#sorry these are messy but like whatever I doodled these from the heart and I cannot be bothered to do more than two layers

[zeb-z]

pro backrooms move is to accidentally kill your friends to be the last one standing - then they have to listen to you talk about Star Wars

[happysparklingshadows]

𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚢 𝚀𝚞𝚒𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚢 + 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙰𝚕𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚝 (’96)

Warnings: Misty Quigley lol, drugging, smut, mature themes. 

Notes: I fucking love Misty and I think she needs to have more love! @zhivaxo @g1rlsriot @h-doodles

                            *.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Misty is very affectionate and shows it in all the ways of the five love languages. She kidnaps you, gives you quality time, touches you, praises you, gives you gifts of whatever you want, and even cooks your food (with or without drugs inside of them). She is intense and will tell you she is the only person to love you this way, and you can’t disagree. No one would treat you like their whole world and mean it. 

Blood: How messy are they willing to get regarding their darling?

Misty Quigley is not ashamed of how she can be. She will protect you and never feel guilty for something so simple. Protecting you; keeping you is all Misty cares about. She would fucking burn someone alive if it meant she could keep you. 

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Misty will abduct you, it’s just a matter of time and money to keep you somewhere safe, but she is not cruel about it. She would tease you, “Oh baby, is that too much for you? I know it’s stressful, baby.” But she doesn’t mock your fear or anger; she wants you to love her again. 

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

A lot of things. She will make you wear things like her to match, she will force you to kiss her even when you don’t want to, Misty will make you hang out with her, Misty will overwhelm you, and she will not go away. She is overbearing but doesn’t force herself too much because she doesn’t want to scare you off. 

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Funny enough, Misty is a really guarded and not very vulnerable person. She has only been rejected and ridiculed for how she was and couldn’t change. She doesn’t let people in, even close to her. The wilderness experience was the only time Misty felt a part of a community; even then, she was still seen as an outcast. She wants to be accepted and loved but has grown her walls so high that she doesn’t know how to lower them. She lets you peek into her inner self by crying and coming to you after a mean comment. I feel like the Krystal situation would happen with you there, and Misty would make you quiet, and you just would because she is the only one to accept you. 

Misty cries quietly beside you at night, the other girls asleep, and finally gives Misty a moment just to feel her feelings. Misty doesn’t allow herself to cry too much; she is always told to hold her feelings in out of “Babies only cry, Misty. Don’t be a baby.” being told to her since she was 5 years old. 

Misty was never allowed to show those feelings in her house, and she never got to see her parents, so when she saw them, she just got used to acting like she was okay. Her breath hitches, and the smallest whimper falls from her lips. 

You stir beside her, your hand resting on her small chest and feeling the frantic heartbeats of your girlfriend. You open your eyes to Misty, wiping the waterfall of tears. 

“Misty-” 

“I’m okay-I’m okay, honey. Go back to bed, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” Misty quivered, her lip jetting in and out as she held her sobs. She quietly cuddles closer to you, and her smaller hand wraps in your hand. 

“Misty, it’s okay. I’m right here. Let it out; let's cry together.” You coo to her and pet her nest of blonde curls. Your fingers comb through her strains to calm her down. 

Misty whimpers and buries her face in your chest as she cries into it. She doesn’t want to talk about why or what she thinks; she just needs to cry. And you let her with open arms. You are the only person to ever do that for her, and she can never tell you how much she loves you for it. 

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Misty would be desperate to return it or make it as before the fight. They would double down and force with everything they had, which is a lot because you are everything to them; they would just try to tell you they are right. They just want to love you and do right by you, and the world is just cruel to you two. They reject you two, but you two are the only ones to accept each other, at least in her mind. 

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Yeah, she just would try and fail to hide it. She likes how you think you can escape her and that she couldn’t follow you with your scent alone. Misty knows everything about you and will do anything to get you back, and she wins every time.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Oh, I think Misty would have a lot of uncomfortable moments out in public and private with you. I think the worst event would be if she hurt you and she did do something harmful to you physically. I think Misty would break your legs to keep you with her so you can’t physically leave her (kind of like killing stalking, sorry 😭)

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Misty wants to spend every day with you until she dies. She always gives off an old soul, saying things like “I hope I go first because I couldn’t-“ and crying. The idea that you could leave her and have your own life without her is unsettling and would cause her to split. Misty would want to be married, but she doesn’t want to be pregnant or wants you to be impregnated with someone else’s baby. She WOULD NOT have it. Misty is lowkey a bottom in the relationship. Even if she plays this white knight figure for you, she would want you to propose. When she is longer in the wilderness, she will come to the idea that you two could propose together, making her so happy. 

You kiss Misty as she giggles, trying to be quiet as the other girls settle in for the night, “(Y/n), They’ll notice we’re gone!” 

You kiss her soft pink lips again and look into her brown eyes, smiling sweetly, “Let them notice that me and my girl are gone. I don’t care about what they think.” 

Misty blushed and smiled wildly, she didn’t know what to do with this good news and this reassurance. “I want to be with you forever!” She blurted, blushing. She immediately regretted it as she watched your face intensely to see your reaction. 

“I do too!” You say back and kiss her, wrapping your arms around her neck. 

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Very. Misty gets very jealous and territorial about you and will confront them in her very Misty way.  She would push them away and remind you that you are hers with a pout and a thousand kisses to your face. She says, “I love you”s over and over as she pecks your cheeks. 

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Misty is very loving as she is weird and possessive. Misty loves you and listens to you with no judgment. Misty would completely change her mind if you talked about something with passion. Misty doesn’t like friends because it kind of is weird, but because you talked about it like onto her, she would watch every fucking episode like it was a ticket into your heart. She is so invested in you and so loving about it. She has never met someone so wonderful and pure before. 

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Oh, Misty approaches you like a knight in shining armor! She is a weird kid, and she accepts anyone who wants to be her friend, so you two become friends. I see Misty not speaking about her feelings for you at all and maybe even holding onto them for years. Misty and you met in freshmen year, and for three years, Misty would just stalk you from afar if she wasn’t trying to be your friend. Misty never really had that many friends, so for her to change your title in her brain from a friend to more took until you showed some interest back. The second you do, though, Misty will pounce on you. 

Misty’s eyes widen when she sees you lean into her. She feels like she is out of her body as she heard you liked her, and now as you sit on her bed at her sleepover without her parents, leaning into her to finally kiss her. 

Misty quickly kisses you back and closes her eyes. She is hungry for you, and her hands grab all over your back, with sharp grips with her fingers. She claws on your clothes, and you do her. You were losers all going through middle and high school, never having anyone to explore with or date; you two were each other’s only friends. You were the only person ever to accept Misty’s oddness that seemed to make her unlovable to the world. 

“Fuck, Misty-” You moan as Misty pulls your shirt over your head and litters your neck and chest with kisses. Kisses, bites, licks. She wants to devour you and have you inside of her forever. Her knee comes up to your pussy as she humps up to you. 

“Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyou-ah” She stammers and moans as she rubs against your thigh and you fall apart from her knee. Your hands rub and touch her body, worshiping her body and letting her feel the love she has never had. 

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from how they act around everyone else?

I don’t believe Misty can really mask her feelings or motives. People in the show mention that she has an unsettling presence and that you can always tell when she is around. Misty has an aura about her that spells out all her darker ways before she can even speak. It’s her fatal curse never to be able to mask. 

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Misty would punish you in many ways. Misty usually uses her angry face to punish most of the time, but she can get physical by spanking you. Misty would get a tight lip, and she would just be wound up until she could explode onto you. 

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Who told you that you have rights? Who said Misty had rights? To Misty and your relationship, almost no boundaries or things are entirely your own. Misty completely encompasses your life and is in every part of it. It is completely consuming being together, and it’s addictive to both of you, addicted to finally feeling accepted by someone. Misty doesn’t try to make you uncomfortable or like you can’t have things, but she has some serious control issues. 

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Misty is very patient with her love because she wants it in return. She doesn’t force too much at once and knows with some experience with you when to push and when to hold back information. 

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Misty would simply kill herself. Misty couldn’t handle the idea or the feeling that the only person to accept her and let her be herself completely was gone. Gone forever, Misty couldn’t handle it. Misty would have broken the black box to stay close to you without the world's judgment of being gay or just being able to keep you close. 

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Misty would never understand the feeling of guilt. I don’t think Misty has much, if any, empathy and guilt because I believe Misty has some sort of anti-personality disorder. Misty doesn’t like making you feel bad because she can’t handle seeing you upset WITH her. But she doesn’t know much about what she did to make you mad. 

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Childhood. These tendencies developed by being labeled weird at a young age and neglected by her family; Misty never felt good enough to have anyone care about her. She wanted to be unique like everyone else who got asked how they were, and people would care about the answer. Misty is bullied throughout elementary, middle, and high school. She would hold onto the person who loves her like it’s her only way to breathe. 

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Misty hates seeing you cry or distressed because she doesn’t know what to do. It’s like being left with an emotional child that isn’t yours, and Misty doesn’t know how to comfort you when you are crying. Misty is your girl if you need to vent or have comfort and are not crying. Misty will do ANYTHING for you to feel better. She sneaks you ibuprofen when you are in pain and doesn’t tell the others, gives you her servings when you are hungry, and combs your hair out of your face as you rage about someone being a dick to you. 

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic Yandere?

I think Misty fits the Yandere trope very very well. But she is unique in the way that she is Misty. She is so odd and off-putting that it would be hard for her beloved not to notice those moments.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit to escape?

Her need to please you. She is a people pleaser broken by years of bullying and neglect. She just wants you to love her and to be loved. Just act like you love her and leave. She will follow you, though. 

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

I think the worst thing Misty would do to you is drug you to calm you down. She seems like she would not handle you rejecting her and being distressed. She would just give you something to knock you out. 

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Misty worships you, but it is not the same as how Lottie worships you. Misty worships the ground you walk on for having the charity for letting her be around you, let alone being able to love you. Misty finds you to be like gold dust in a pan. She finally found what she has been working hard for and living a hard life. 

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Misty would take years because her insecurities would stop her. Misty is somewhat slow to show that she is attracted to you and in love because you are her only friend. Misty would snap when the reader shows interest in her, and she wouldn’t even think more about it. 

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Misty would be clumsy and awkward in her attempt to break you. When Misty is just being herself and loving you the way she does with all of her being, you would just accept it because she is the only person in your life. She worships the ground you walk on. 

Yandere Level

10/10 (Misty is the most classic Yandere character I have seen in a Western show so far in my lifelong guilty pleasure of yanderes) 

Freedom Level

2/10 (You are not free because Misty knows your every move and will not let you out of her sight, but you can do something behind her back, and she wouldn’t be super angry about it.)

Vanessa ✿  Natalie

[yellowflowerbub]

you? card making?

♡ Feb. 13th ♡

♡ Day 4 of 5 ♡

꒷︶ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ︶꒷

summary. you’re situated at your desk when megumi and his art supplies take a seat in front of you

wordcount. 0.8k+ (kind of unfinished)

pairing(s). megumi x reader

tag(s). newstudent! reader, megumi is a little shit, fluff, card making, flirting, teasing (?)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The classroom is small. So small you wouldn't have believed it to be one if not for four desks seemingly arbitrary scattered around the dust spotted floor. The rest of the room itself is undecorated; standard pearly white walls partnered with a bare bulletin board were really the only things that occupy the room. No teacher's desk. No chalk board. No individuality from any of the other insanitary rooms in the building.

The full bag of binders and an array of colored led pencils dangle from your shoulder as you sit in the desk furthest from the front of the room. You wish to draw as little attention to yourself as possible. Having a bad reputation in a four student classroom would have you socially exiled from everyone within a mile of the classroom. A seemingly impossible task but do-able enough that you’d avoid it at all costs, even if that meant squinting to see if something was put on the board.

You pull paper from your bag and plant it on your desk, deciding to sketch whatever comes to mind in the margins to pass time after being early to class by a few minutes. Before you can finish any form of art, the classroom door knob rattles and twists forcibly. A boy who you imagine is another student emerges from the now open door and trudges through the frame. He has on a uniform similar to your own, the same deep navy blue long-sleeve shirt with a pair of cream colored buttons to support its quaint collar. To your surprise he sat himself down on the desk in front of you. If not for the desks being diagonal from each other, his messy and near pointy bed head hair would've blocked your view of the bulletin board.

You almost felt a bit offended that he hadn't spoken to you upon his arrival yet you hadn't said anything to him either. You were new, it would’ve been expected of you to announce your presence or greet him first, no matter the severity of the frown he wears. Or how hard he glares.

Curious, your torso falls over the side of your desk, barely enough to catch a glimpse of his collection of school supplies which consists of a few sheets of lined paper, an accordion style folder, and a clear cased, blue ink filled pen. His pen is loud, it scratches the paper rather than drags along it prompting an irritable dry noise. It seems he doesn’t mind as much as you do for his eyes are affixed to the characters he writes along his paper, however he’s definitely noticed you staring.

“What are you doing?” His voice is like silk however the tone in which he speaks is commanding enough to overpower the satiny of his words. 

“Sorry,” you were really but he looked doubtful, “I was just wondering.”

With his back still facing yours, he grumbles.

A sigh, "I'm working on cards." Megumi's not sure what internal loose screws made his mouth fix to respond to you but he’d already spit out his answer before he realized he spoke. 

Cards? You think. 

Right. Valentines day.

A look at the assortment of pre-folded cardstock paper showed a few small doodles hiding by its corner. They look like they'd been drawn by a child no older than eight. 

“That’s cute.”

His head whips back to his own creations, in a few quiet deep breaths he utters, “Thank.. you.”

“Who are they for?” You're not sure why but you suddenly yearn for a conversation with him. To intake his soft voice for another moment, even a brief one. He’s alluring in a fashion that makes your heart and thoughts race, his presence makes your cheeks sear, and the passionate and intimate way he rants on about his cards he’ll soon give away is incomparable.

“It’s really sweet that you’re spending so much time making this stuff. Like, the card making in itself is thoughtful but I think it’s admirable to actually try.”

“Are you hitting on me or something?”

“No,” you weren’t entirely sure if you were or not. Maybe your mouth kept running out of desperation but it hadn’t felt that way absolutely, “I just want to give you a compliment on your art and crafts stuff here.”

He scoffs, “This is barely ‘arts and crafts.’”

“Card making is definitely arts and crafts. You’re crafting a card.”

“All I did was fold it.” 

Yes but, “That still qualifies as arts and crafts.”

“Take a shot everytime you say crafts.”

You honestly laugh, he’s funny, “You’re funny, y’know.”

“I’ve been told.” You hear the smile in his tone. You wish you could see it.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

a/n: i wasn’t sure how to end this so this is the best i’ve got. Ill be back if i think of something

Feedback and Reblogs Are Appreciated!!

[eoieopda]

Hihi, Jade! Hope you’ve been well and are doing good hehe

I started learning the pre-chorus + chorus to Like Crazy and when I tell you it’s groovy as shit. Like damn. Though, if this doesn’t improve my hip-control, I genuinely have no idea what will 🤡

On another note, I’m meeting up with one of my friends on Monday! We’re going out for coffee and window shopping and I’m pretty excited because I haven’t seen her since the beginning of February of this year, and I’m excited to talk to her face to face (hah see what I did there ;))

I also did a little brainstorming for a story I’ve wanted to write since August of 2020, and I’m hoping it’s gonna help with my immense writers block concerning the idea itself lmfao

I was also wondering, but do you bake? I know it’s a pretty random question but a lot of my friends bake, and I’ve only ever baked once with one of said friends. We made chocolate muffins and, despite them being relatively messy, they actually tasted pretty good! I’m a bit sad we didn’t have chocolate chips though, I would’ve loved to take the famous(?) “you measure that shit with your heart” post as inspiration to make a mostly choc-chip choco muffin hehe.

Do you draw at all, either? I don’t draw much, and when I do I almost always draw exclusively doodles, but I’ve had a couple which came out pretty well. I drew this really tiny dragon a while ago (probably a few years back) which I thought came out pretty well hehet.

By the way, on a less random and softer note, I’ve been meaning to tell you but kept getting shy and insecure about how to say it, but I really appreciate you, you know? I know we don’t know each other super personally and everything, but our exchanges have been a consistent highlight to my everyday life since I’ve become your mutual.

Like, I can’t even begin to say how big of an impact you’ve had on me as a person just with a couple of our (admittedly short) interactions. Your posts brighten up my day, and I really love how full of love you are, and how you’re so unapologetically yourself. It’s really pushed me to become more comfortable in my own skin, which I couldn’t thank you enough for.

I know that probably went from zero (0) to one-hundred (100) real quick, lol, but I thought it was about time, you know? Sorry for putting something like this in an ask, I probably should’ve sent it in a PM but I thought, “I’m here, I might as well do it while I have the courage” 🥹

Anyway, sorry for all the blabbering xd.

I hope you have a wonderful day (or night, I’m not 100% what time of day you’re at rn)!

I hope this isn’t coming off as creepy as it’s starting to sound in my head 🥹 I admire you a lot is all; sorry if this makes you uncomfortable if it does lemme know pls. Okay bye ily 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

this is quite possibly the sweetest thing i anyone has told me in a very very very long time, and i am — OOF — misty in the damn eyeballs. like, i don’t even know how to thank you for that 😭🫠 i’m a whole mess omg. YOU ARE SO SPECIAL, LIL BABY HAN 😭💓💕💗🫶🏻

now i’m gonna stop wheezing and answer your actual questions and pretend i did not just fully tear up, lmao.

i do bake, but not as often as i used to? i kind of only do it when i’m home with my mom which is rare but will resume soon when i move back to my home state to be close again!! def prefer baking to cooking because there is some ridiculous disconnect in which i can do one fairly well but will burn the shit out of whatever meal i’m attempting and/or burn myself. i do not know why i am like this!!

i draw, but also not as often as i used to 🤪 like, i drew/designed all of my tattoos and used to be really into art, but my brain only lets me have 1-2 hobbies at a time, and this one fell by the wayside 🥲 rip art-phase jade.

and good luck with your wip!!! seriously, tag me in anything you post because i love FFF so much that i would surely love whatever else you write 💕🥹

[enhalite]

SOULMATE LINKS !

please reblog my work! it’s best with tumblr’s algorithm <3

LEE HEESEUNG

the last words you say to each other are written in your wrist. i believe this would be a lovers to strangers connection, maybe long distance? you had to move away for uni, and heesung is busy being an idol… texting becomes rare, nevermind calling. you tell him, once, “i hope you know i truly, genuinely loved you,” and that’s when he knows — he knows he should’ve fought harder to keep you, he should’ve done everything in his power. but the words on his wrist are enough proof to tell him you’re gone from his life, just as he is from yours.

PARK JAY

you get each other’s injuries and feel each other’s pain. it’s not rare that you’re limping because god, your legs are cramping again. he probably wakes up with burning hands because — oh, papercut! oh, knife cut from cooking! oh, why is my soulmate so accident prone! you often feel bad that he has to deal with you, especially because he seems to take care of himself and his physical health, but at the end of the day it’s the pain that brings you two together: if you hadn’t bumped into each other and scraped your hand on the pavement so badly it burned when trying to catch yourself, you wouldn’t have know you’re each other’s soulmates.

JAKE SIM

it’s impossible to lie to your soulmate, and you managed to land yourself jake sim as your soulmate! it makes for a funny story. you’re not one to lie in the first place, but when you meet this guy who’s so kind and loving and just… a dreamboat, you start doing everything in your power to keep the growing crush from him. for some reason, the universe is against you, because the more you try to hide it, the more obvious it becomes. until he asks one day, confidence faux yet convincing: you like me, right? and your mind screams at you to say no, no, no — you find yourself telling the truth as if it were being pulled out of you like a game of tug the rope. he sighs in relief and says: “good, because i think we’re soulmates.”

PARK SUNGHOON

whatever you write on your skin, it shows up on your soulmate’s skin too. you remember you used to wake up to little doodles on your hand and good morning messages, and go to sleep with the same. your soulmate — PSH, as he wrote once — had liked leaving little hints as to who he is on your skin: ice skates, a microphone, etc. you never really understood, but you tried your best to reciprocate. the messages started disappearing day by day, becoming rare until they simply… stopped. you never stop, though, always a good morning, good night, have a good day! until one day, you wake up to the message: sorry i was gone, have a lot to tell you :) and a phone number scribbled in messy black ink.

KIM SUNOO

i think it would be funny if you and sunoo could taste what the other is eating. it leads to silly situations, like the fact that you used to hate mint choco but tasting it so often made you start craving it yourself. you don’t understand why your soulmate likes mint choco so much, but you do like mint, so you’re not complaining. sometimes you’re afraid of eating things and having your soulmate dislike them, because it’s happened to you before that you get a horrible taste in your mouth and you just have your dumb, nameless soulmate to blame. when you meet him, you’ll tell him to quit it with the sweet things.

YANG JUNGWON

this one’s kinda fun: your heart beat is morse code for your soulmate’s name. you remember learning about soulmates and finding yourself surrounded by your best friends, one hand on your chest and the other writting down morse code from a guide on website you found that had looked a little sketchy. yang jungwon, your heartbeat spells over and over. you wonder if your soulmate — your jungwon — knows your name too, and if he’s looking for you like you’re looking for him. i think the most shocking news would be a phone call from a friend, screaming in your ear: “your soulmate is an idol?” and, well… that surely changes things.

NISHIMURA RIKI

with niki, you get the same emotions he’s feeling. if he’s sad, you’re randomly sad and vise versa. it kinda sucks, cause you often feel discouraged and annoyed for no reason, but you also love it because you’re a sap for moments when you can practically feel the giggles bubbling from your soulmate’s throat out of pure happiness, and the urge to just… scream out of joy. niki feels intensely, and you drown in his feelings. sometimes you wonder what it’s like for him; when you get a bad grade, when you cry over a movie, etc. does he feel the need to run to you whenever he feels the tug of sadness from your end? does he feel the joy you feel and smiles like it’s the best thing in the world?

stray kids ver. | if you want to do this with another group, feel free to do so! credit is very much appreciated ^^

[prodbyblush]

college roomies au oneshot with twitch streamer arisu, med student chishiya, and possibly engineer niragi? i feel bad for not knowing what area of study niragi should be so if that doesn't suit him i trust u to find him a better major! y/n is also a roomie but the guys have never seen them face to face before, only little traces of them living there like a pair of fluffy bunny slippers thrown by the door, leaving out coffee mugs one morning but cleaning all the dishes at night, random sticky notes with doodles here and there, until one day the guys enter the apartment/dorm and see y/n sleeping on the couch mascara running, lip tint smudged, but in the most gorgeous fit ever (y/n is never caught slipping). scared to wake up the attractive "stranger" until they wake up from an alarm bc theyll run late to class. reason why they hardly show themselves? theyre a ballet student studying physics to do the best pretty twirls and invites the guys over to their rehearsal :) sorry if this is a long request but feel free to change anything bc i want u to have full creative liberty blush!!!

fairy tale - arisu ryohei, shuntaro chishiya & suguru niragi

ｎｏｗ ｌｏａｄｉｎｇ . . .

▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 100%

ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

・❥・ requested

AN: OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS REQUEST MY HEART IS HAVING SOFT CONTRAPTIONS this legit reminds me of Voltage's otome games and also it sounds like im watching a jdrama jhfwhf

ps. will be written in 7 parts

Word Count: 1k

Tags: twitchstreamer!arisu, medtechstudent!chishiya, entertainmentandmultimediastudent!niragi, balletstudent!femreader and physicsstudent!femreader

Taglist: @ahahawowwwwww @chishiyaslosthoodie @jnrenner @dorizone @bangtannie7

Lifting her head up, a bright smile paints her luscious red lips while holding onto a box, staring at the dark red apartment building before Y/N.

Born and raised outside of Tokyo, it felt like a dream come true for Y/N when she came home from school and received calls that would change her life, forever.

The first call came from University of Tokyo, informing her that she passed the entrance exams with top marks, therefore guaranteeing her a place among the sixty accepted students under the Physics course.

And the second call came from ABC Tokyo Ballet, the mentors were impressed with the video piece she had sent them last week and are very much looking forward to house her under them.

Before boarding the bus bound to Tokyo, Y/N's mother tearily accompanied her, lowkey tried to talk her out of it and said that there are universities near home, told Y/N that she could try and take the entrance exams again, she wouldn't mind, she said. But Y/N remained firm with her decision and before the bus left, she looked at the window and waved her hand goodbye to her mother.

Now here she is, standing at the front of the apartment building Y/N found on the internet that had a good deal. On the description, it said that in a room, there are four rooms, each having a bathroom and personal internet connection, along came with a spacious kitchen and living room, a laundry room and a free parking space in the parking lot. Everything sounded too good to be true until Y/N opened the door of Room 080.

The first to greet her are the messy shoes on the shoe rack. Rubber shoes and slippers lazily placed on each rack, some were on the floor that caused dirt to go everywhere. Letting out a small annoyed huff, Y/N proceeded to enter and lo and behold - it looked like a typhoon happened inside.

On the left was the living room, video game cases scattered around the floor, the cushions of the couch all messed up and small traces of what seemed to look like potato chips cluttered on the grey carpet. And on the right side is the kitchen - stacks of plates, utensils and cups placed on the sink, looking at Y/N as if they were begging her to have them cleaned already, a trash bin overflowing with ramen cups and whatever else she dare not to know, and when she opened the fridge, there was nothing but bottles of water and cans of beers inside.

It's only her first day of moving in and Y/N already felt stressed with her roommates. Wanting to pull her hair, she took a deep breath instead and decided to take the farthest room, decorating and organizing her items in a way she wanted it to look like. To which afterwards, she tie her hair up in a neat high ponytail, determined to clean up their mess.

Putting on the dishwashing pink gloves, a certain memory floated and she were reminded that her roommates were all boys. Y/N didn't know if they knew each other or not, saw or talked to each other or not.

'Though they are all guys, they could at least clean up here' She thought to herself, putting away all the now clean dishes into their respective places before fixing all the shoes in the shoe rack and sweeping away the dirt on the floor. There were still spaces on the bottom rack and used it by putting her shoes after.

The living room was the hardest, Y/N didn't know where the vacuum is and had to resort it by dusting it off outside the window, neatly stacking up all the video games and even wiping the light wooden table that is being used with streaming equipment.

If she weren't their roommate, she would charge them big time. But since Y/N felt nice and is still in her good mood, she cleaned up their mess and is now back in the kitchen, cooking katsu curry. Her three roommates were probably busy with their lives and figured that they were probably living off take outs and instant meals.

Y/N's back and arms felt sore after dinner and it was already two hours before midnight and her roommates were still nowhere to be seen. As much as she loved to get to know them, she finally entered her room, did her night skincare beauty ritual before slipping onto her pink and white bunny pajamas. Laying down on her bed, Y/N finally closed her eyes and called it a day.

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   . ♡

The three of them, somewhat met up in a corner near the building and walked home together. One wore all black, had piercings on his face and smoked while walking, the other one wearing his scrub suit uniform, hoodie covering his head and ear phones covering his ears while the third one wore a loose shirt and board shorts, one hand on his phone assembling the rubix cube.

Neither of them said a word, only silence hung between the three of them. But the chime of the elevator broke their silence and one by one did they leave the elevator.

Arisu was the first to enter the room, absentmindedly kicking his slippers to the side and walking to his space in the living room. Chishiya and Niragi were both silent, immediately seeing the sudden neatness of their apartement.

The pink heels besides Chishiya's white shoes, the cooked dinner that was being covered and is still warm for them to eat placed on top of the dining table and came along a pink post it taped on the fridge with the words:

" Felt sleepy already. Enjoy the dinner I cooked! ♡(ᐢ ᴥ ᐢし) "

Chishiya sat down on the chair, not bothering to change and just eat the food their new roommate cooked for them. Cutting up a katsu in piece and dipping it in curry, Chishiya brought the bite size into his mouth, chewing it softly.

The food warmed his stomach.

(gif not mine. credits to the rightful owner!)

[reidsnose]

spilled coffee

overview: spencer mistakenly spills his coffee all over reader's stuff on a case, but it turns into a happy accident (based on this request)

genre: fluff :)

a/n: ok so i think this is so cute and ive been meaning to write something ab coffee art for so long im so hapoy i got sent this request! as always lmk what u guys think of it :)

masterlist

-

-

you sat at a raggedy table, spitballing with the team in a run down police station in the absolute middle of nowhere. your notebook was open wide in front of you, the blank page taunting your inability to make a good assessment of this unsub.

"hey guys, i think i've got something," Spencer announced, walking into the room.

"thank God," you murmured under your breath.

he began walking over to the board, setting down his coffee next to you. except he accidentally bumped the corner of the table as he crossed the room, consequently knocking over his cup and spilling coffee all over your paper.

he gasped, profusely apologizing and you assured him that it was ok as you wiped it off as best you could, urging him to say what he came to say about the case.

you left your notebook out to dry and the next couple of days went by very quickly, and you nearly forgot about it. it wasn't until you were all packing up that Spencer handed it to you.

"im so sorry again, ill buy you a knew one." he offered.

"no its ok! it just has some character now!" you explained, thumbing through the pages, now stiff and various shades of brown, "mmm and it smells like coffee."

"i'm gonna find a way to make it up to you." he stated as the two of you walked out of the room.

the jet ride was going to be long, and everyone was schlumped, meaning it would be void of fun commentary and be even more long and unbearable.

you sighed, flipping through your stained notebook before getting to the exact page the coffee had been spilled onto. it might have been the lighting on the jet, or maybe the sleepiness on your eyes, but the longer you stared at the blob, the more it looked like a person.

a person you knew... someone with wavy hair that stuck up in all directions, someone who had a cute button nose, someone with kind eyes and a bright smile. someone with an iq of 187 and a particular interest in halloween and chocolate frosted donuts with sprinkles.

the coffee stain looked just like Spencer.

you rubbed your eyes a couple of times but nope, he was still there, in the coffee stain.

you couldn't help but think you were going a little crazy. you had liked him for quite some time, maybe you were just seeing him in everything now. maybe to everyone else it just looked like a coffee blob?

regardless, you took out your pen and started sketching. outlining his perfectly messy hair. and his defined jaw and cheek bones. and his puckered up, oval, kissable lips, curled up in a smile. and his little boop-able nose. and his off center tie.

you weren't sure how long you had been drawing, or how many times you had looked over at Reid to make sure you were getting him down correctly. and yes you were.

all the other times you had secretly sketched him it never turned out right. there was always something that made it like someone looks like Spencer. but never quite him.

until now.

because somehow, this spilled coffee sketch had perfectly captured his essence. maybe because he was the one that spilled it? maybe it had to be done together to look right?

whatever it was you just couldn't stop staring at the wonderful accident that you and him had created.

you looked up again to see him walking over and quickly flipped your notebook to the other side, trying hard to hide your drawing.

"hey," he smiled sitting down across from you.

"hey," you replied, voices low to avoid waking up the team.

"what were you drawing?" he asked innocently.

"oh..uh nothing," you denied quickly.

"oh come on you know how much i love your doodles, show me!"

"you've seen my doodles," you face palmed.

"yes! and i love them! especially the little flower chains you border your paper with sometimes," he giggled.

"well this one..it um didn't turn out right, you wont like it."

"i doubt that."

you sighed, giving into his pleading eyes, "here."

he flipped it over, eyes going wide and mouth hanging open, "WOAH!"

"shhh!! they're sleeping!" you whispered, pointing at the rest of the team.

"y/n! this is absolutely incredible! how did you- out of a coffee spill- and it looks so- wow. i-" he looked up at you, a huge smile stretching across his face, "i'm honored that you chose to draw me. thank you."

"you're welcome, i've tried to draw you before but i could never get it right until now," you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up.

his eyes softened.

"nothing says Spencer Reid like spilled coffee," he joked, making you smile. "but how come you didn't add yourself?"

"what?" you chuckled.

"theres a second blob here. right next to me," he pointed.

"yeah but that just looks like... a blob."

"no! that looks exactly like you! look theres your hair, and your eyes, and even the height difference is right!" he explained excitedly, grabbing your pen, "may i?"

you nodded and watched him get to work, sticking his tongue out as he focused. his approach was much different then yours, he drew connected, long shaky lines, and even though it didn't match the style you drew him in it was still perfect. and it still looked just like you.

he finished up, adding his last touches before pushing the paper back towards you.

"spence, i love it!" you breathed, holding it up in-front of you as you felt your heart begin to swell. "look at us. Spencer and y/n"

"Spencer and y/n." he echoed, liking the way your name felt in his mouth.

you smiled, "we forgot to sign."

"oh, right," he stammered, taking the pen and signing at the bottom corner before passing it to you and watching you do the same.

"something is off," you frowned.

"no! i think we look good together." he countered, wondering if you would catch the hint.

"no.." you sighed, taking the paper and holding it close as you scrawled something else.

his heart sank. rejection. you were probably scribbling out his face. or drawing a line between the two of you. this was gonna hurt.

you dropped the notebook back in front of him with a happy sigh. he brought his eyes up, wishing you'd at least had the decency to not show him.

but when he looked he was surprised. pleasantly surprised.

a large heart floated above your heads in the picture.

he grinned at you, his heart making its way back up to his chest from inside his stomach.

"i think we look great together." you grinned back.

his fingers grazed yours on top of the table.

"i agree." he breathed, looking like the physical embodiment of heart eyes.

"hey lovebirds," morgan groaned, "i'm so happy for you but please shut up and let me sleep."

you two chuckled, both whispering an apology, grinning ear to ear.

-

-

ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @takeyourleap-of-faith @vampire-overlord @spenxerslut @violetspoetic @aperrywilliams @b-a-utiful @eevee0722 @srhxpci @reidemandweep @imdefinitelyfloating @random-human-person @gurkiloni

[alixdelcourt]

Hello hello againnn, tysm for yesterday’s request, I love your writing!<3 I have a new idea I just thought of, tamaki + mha guys/girls (of your choice and if you write fruity fics too) with a reader who draws a lot? And maybe they get caught or they see a sketch of them? If it isn’t so much to ask for- ty!!!

MHA boys x reader who draws a lot

Some fluff and sweetness to brighten your day (I hope so)

Ft : Tamaki, Izuku and Denki

(First pic credits : Peachimis on TikTok)

It’s a beautiful day. The weather is fine: clear blue sky and warm sun. You and Tamaki are strolling in a parc, admiring the nature around and the ambient calm. Your boyfriend carries a wicker basket for you, holding your lunch and stuff in. When you two got hungry, you just settle under a big tree, unwrapping a blanket and having lunch in the branches’ shade. This was the kind of perfect dates that makes you so in love with Tamaki. He’s quiet, and like peaceful time, just like you. Birds of a feather flock together, isn’t it ?

Tamaki’s reading, comfortably leaning against the trunk, and you are scribbling some sketches in your sketchbook. Drawing is a passion, and you can’t help but try to picture whatever’s near you. This sketchbook is your private garden, and Tamaki respects it. He never presses you to show him what you had drawn, he just knows that if you want to, you would come up to him, asking for his opinion about it.

And today, you want to show him the picture of a cute bird who was perched just above your head. You wanted to know if it’s resembling to the model or not. You need an outside look.

“Tamaki ?”

He raised his nose from his book to look at you.

“Yes, (y/n) ?”

“Could you take a look at something ?”

“Of course, honey”

You hand you sketchbook to him, but when he took it from you, a wind blow turned the pages, loosing the small bird’s sketch. And Tamaki came face to face with… himself. It was him, on the drawing. His purple hair, his elf ears, his thin hands… But he was pictured as an angel. It was… really well done, and absolutely lovely.

You quickly shut and take back your sketchbook, brick red colored cheeks. But it was too late. He saw it. And he was hard blushing as well. You were embarrassed. You felt obligated to apologize:

“ I am sorry… Just forget about this… You should never have seen that. It’s bum, anyway… I am sor-”

You can’t continue, because Tamaki arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you to his embrace. He’s still blushing, and can’t hold your gaze, but he wasn’t mad. Not at all. He was softly smiling, burying his nose in your hair. This drawing was the most precious confession you made for him. Even if it wasn’t on purpose.

“It’s not bum. It’s perfect. I love it.”

And before you could add anything else,

“I love you, (y/n).”

Izuku Midoriya is sick again, and stuck in the infirmary. He had a hard time training when he did push too much on himself, and he needs to rest for a few days. You went to check on him with some friends, and poor baby was so anxious about skipping school and having trouble caching up what he missed.

You have a huge crush on Izuku, and in order to help him, and maybe score some points to him, you decided to take double notes in class, writing down in a new notebook, just like those used by Izuku himself. You’ll give to him after school, so you’re not obliged to lend him your messy notes, and he’ll be able to catch up studying in the infirmary. It was a bit hard to order and organize your note taking, but you want it to be well presented for him.

You struggle at the beginning, but get used quickly to write faster in order to double note on your book and his. Even Aizawa noticed and asked what were you doing. He lowkey congrats you for your “team spirit”. You did it all day long, in every class. You can be pride of yourself, it was a great idea.

But you didn’t notice. You didn’t pay attention to your bad habits. You’re an airhead, having trouble concentrating, and you need to focus your mind on something and keep your hands busy with some repetitive moves. Like fold and unfold the corner of the pages, clicking your pen, or just randomly scribbling on your pages’ edges. Little doodles that you don’t even look at. Oblivious drawings of what’s in your head.

Shiny smiling on, you head to the infirmary immediately after the bell ringing. Recovery Girl let you visit Izuku, who was better than yesterday.

“Izuku-kun ! How are you today ? Better ?”

“Yes, thank you for caring, (y/n)”

You took the notebook out of your bag, and give it to him. His name was beautifully calligraphed on it. He blushed a bit, looking at you for some explanations.

“I did this for you ! So you can study like us, even if you are not taking classes. It’s yours, you can keep it ! But since you’re not coming back tomorrow, Recovery Girl told me, I’ll come in the morning to get it back and to take note for you again. Does it sound okay for you ?”

After long minutes of embarrassed and grateful thanks from Izuku, you left him alone to study and rest.

The next day, as promised, you picked his notebook from his nightstand, since he was asleep, and nearly arrived late to your class. You sit at your desk and prepare yourself to take notes. When you open Izuku’s notebook, a fold paper drops from it. Your name was on it, so you unfold it. You freeze, eyes and mouth wide open, skin turning to a scarlet tone. Matching the redness of the heart that was drawn on the paper. A big bright red heart. With Izuku signature. A few moments later, still red, you have to concentrate if you don’t want to miss what Ectoplasm was explaining. Mathematics always give you headache, so you need to concentrate. It was then that you noticed what Izuku probably noticed as well. Little sketches of him. Everywhere. Him in his hero costume, in his school uniform, in school sportswear, smiling, winking, sticking his tongue out, with random little stars and tiny hearts everywhere.

RIP you. And RIP him as well. He wasn’t asleep this morning, he was all flustered and shy. Was your sketches some kind of flirting ? Even if he likes you as well, he just doesn’t know how to deal with this. But nor do you. Poor crushing babies. Good luck.

Denki is playful. No doubt on that. He’s such a flirt with everyone. It’s his personality. He can’t help it. But when he is in love, it gets worse. You won’t say that he was embarrassing you, but you were confused every  time he smiles or winks at you when you two are in class. In the dorms, he would randomly touch your hair, compliment your food, want to sit next to you on the couch… More than with the other girls. You like all those small attentions, but it makes you feel… insecure. Maybe paranoid. Definitely awkward. He gets flirtier and flirtier every day. Like he was waiting for something. But what ?

He was waiting for you to fall in love, and maybe confess to him afterwards. Even if it seems strange, he’s too shy to do it himself. Everyone is used to him being a tease, but how would you react if he started being romantic ? He’s afraid that you may reject him. Poor baby, don’t please, you would break his heart.

But he’s done waiting. You divert all his attention, he can’t think about anything else than you. So he decided to do something. He’ll let you know about his feelings, but not directly , so you none of you would be embarrassed if it doesn’t work. If you don’t like him, you will just ignore it, and he will be fixed. At least, he has to give it a try.

So, an evening, while everyone was in the common space of the dorm, he sneaked in your room, with a little chocolate box and a letter. A long letter explaining everything. His feelings, the fact that he can’t face you and would die collapsing if he ever tries to, and that you’re not obliged to answer. His heart was speed racing in his chest, and it nearly stopped when he noticed your desk board. There was plenty of little drawings pinned on it, from memo’s notes to random papers full of sketches.

Dozens of little Pikachus staring and smiling at him, or at everyone who would sit on the chair. So you. You were surrounded by drawings of the little electric mouse. He approached in order to ogle the details, and he saw it. Some mention of his name. Little “Denki” written here and there. He imagined you, daydreaming and nibbling the tip of your pencil, like you do in class or when you study, and thinking of him. This thought filled him with the courage he was lacking to tell you about his feelings. He just dropped what he was holding, before running to the common space. No time to waste. He already waited too long.

You were sitting on a high stool near the counter, chatting with others and watching Bakugou cooking. Like everyone, you turned your head when you heard quick footsteps arriving. Why was Denki running ?

“(Y/N) !”

You raised an eyebrow, and before you could answer, he pressed his lips against yours and kissed you with all the love he feels towards you. You don’t remember what happened next because your mind just… stopped working.

“What was that for ?”

“The pikachus”

Mina and Denki voices brought you back, before fainting again when you heard the word Pikachu.

_________________________________________

Heeeere :) Hope you'll enjoy it. Let me know if you want me to change or to fix anything, and feel free to request anything else.

[peachyysugaa]

(teaser) straight to your heart ➴ an enhypen jay one-shot

❀ to be released: september 9th at 9:09am pst ❀ pairing: archery captain!park jongseong x fem!artist!reader ❀ side pairings: tyunning, one mention of yeonbin ❀ genre: slow-burn fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, angst if you squint ❀ wc (teaser): 496 ❀ warnings (teaser): a japanese high school kind of setting with japanese terms; once i post the actual one-shot, i'll be posting a list of terms i used as well!

send me an ask or reply if you want to be tagged for this release <3

♞──────────────────────────♞

"did you need something?" his voice called from the dojo. breaking from your trance, you looked around to see if the archer was speaking to anyone else. "yes, you. we're the only two people here."

"no, i don't need anything," you responded once you had confirmed his acknowledgment of your presence.

"why are you here then?" he eyed you suspiciously. "this is the kyudo club's dojo. unless you're here to join, i can't—"

"let me join then," you bluntly answered.

line break insurance </3

"huh?" he was clearly taken aback. an eyebrow raised as he proceeded to take in the appearance of the trespasser. "... why should i let you join?" the archer rested his hands on his hips with his bow in one of them, its long length almost as menacing as a sword.

"sorry, should've worded that better," you said as you rubbed the back of your neck. summoning up all your courage as he stared you down with hawklike eyes, you took a deep breath to reveal your intentions. "i want to watch you for inspiration."

you didn't know if that made it worse or not because his eyebrow was yet again raised in a perfect arch, so you scrambled for your school bag and the key item that could get you out of the messy situation. of course, it was within easy reach because you were never without it and never not doodling in it. carefully yanking the sketchbook out, you flipped through the pages to show evidence of your artwork. "i'm a part of the art club here, and i have an important contest coming up. the theme is through another's eyes, and i've been searching for a muse, so look..." you had to intake another breath to steel your nerves and started to speak from your stomach to hopefully convey your conviction. "your kyudo is amazing! i want to see through your eyes! whatever your name is!"

his dark eyes scanned you, looking for some kind of hint of a lie or scheme, but when he saw your own eyes and his form reflected back at him in them, he knew he wouldn't find one. closing his eyes and pinching his nose bridge, the kyudo captain let out his own breath of air and hoped he wouldn't regret his decision as you watched him with hopeful, sparkling eyes. "my name's park jongseong, i'm the captain of the team. you can join—"

"really?!" you interrupted and started hopping up and down like a bunny rabbit with your sketchbook tucked close to your chest.

"on one condition!" he firmly shouted, making you halt and concentrate on his next words. "you become manager for the club and clean the dojo before every practice."

"that's two conditions..." you analyzed with a pout.

"did i make myself clear?" his hard tone made you freeze and straighten up your posture.

"yes, kaichou!" you automatically shouted with a bow. the action made the archer let out an annoyed puff and pinched his nose bridge again.

"i'm already starting to regret this..." jay mumbled under bated breath.

a/n: the long-awaited and overhyped jay one-shot! i've been making good progress on it, and i think it's fine time i dropped a teaser to pressure myself into finishing it! at this moment i have just the final scene left to write and proofreading, so i'm really excited for all of you to read it!

[booksarelife-stuff]

Dancin’ is a Dangerous Thing

James Potter/Lily Evans Potter (jily)

The moments in which James Potter and Lily Evans danced with each other. Pure fluff. 

Word Count: 2,556

Read on AO3

The first time Lily Evans danced with James Potter, it was a complete accident. 

It was fifth year, Gryffindors had not only won the Quidditch Cup, but the House Cup as well. The music is loud and blaring some wizarding band that Lily thinks is trying way too hard to be Queen. 

She’s tipsy, but not drunk. Her fingertips are tingling and she knows her face is flushed. She just finished her second firewhiskey of the night before Mary pulled her to the part of the common room where most of the other Gryffindors were dancing. 

She’s passed from partner to partner. She remembers Sirius at one point, watching him trying to teach Peter how to swing his hips. She laughed hysterically before Marlene pulled her back in.

She was sweaty when she spun right into James’s chest, almost knocking him over. He grabbed on to her to save himself from falling, his hands on her back, Lily’s face in his chest. 

“Oof,” Lily said. 

“A bit drunk there, Evans?” James asked as Lily pulled away.  She was so close he could hear him over the music. 

“Nope,” she said, stumbling. He snorted just as a new song started. This time it was Killer Queen. 

“I love this song!” she yelled. Lily would deny that she was the one to grab James’s hand and pull him in to dance, but all she could remember was the warmth of his hand in hers and how she laughed when he twirled her. 

The second time started with a question. 

“Do wizards even have their own dances?” Mary asked, scrunching her nose. All the sixth year Gryffindor’s had snagged a table in the common room and were quietly doing their work until Sirius asked a question about Muggle traditions for his Muggle studies class. 

“Nah,” James said from beside Peter. His feet were kicked up on the table as he leaned back in his chair. Alice had been doodling on his shoes, which Lily was sure James knew, but didn’t tell her to stop. 

“I mean, we have the same,” Sirius said with a shrug, “Just use them in different places.”

“These pureblood boys had to take dancing lessons,” Marlene said, smugly.  Sirius scoffed. 

“Yeah, so we could dance with whatever cousin Mummy and Daddy picked out for us,” he said. 

Lily blanched at that. 

“Mum made me do it to get out my energy,” James said. “Never worked. I would just waltz around until I broke something.”

The table laughed. 

“Lily, don’t you know how to waltz?” Mary asked. Lily sighed and nodded. 

“We learned in primary school for some reason,” Lily said. “Like anyone one of us in Cokesworth was going to need that knowledge.”

“Show me,” James said, his bright hazel eyes meeting hers. Lily raised an eyebrow at him. 

“What?” she asked, feeling the heat of a challenge from him. He smirked at her, a hand reaching up to his hair to mess it up. 

“You said no one from Cokesworth was going to need that knowledge,” he said. “So I’m asking you to show me.”

She knew what James was doing. It was plain as day. It was either a challenge or an excuse to dance with her, but frankly, she really didn’t care which it was, based on the way the butterflies erupted in her stomach. 

“I need a partner,” she said, sticking her hand out towards him. 

“You’re on,” he said, closing his book and dropping his feet to the ground. 

The warmth of his hand made her whole body tingle and she hoped her face wasn’t bright red as she felt his other hand appear on the small of her back, the starting position. Lily wondered when he got so tall, as she would have to crane her neck up to look at him. She decided to stare at the knot of his tie that was peeking out from his gray jumper. 

Marlene started humming, and they started off clumsily, but it was fine. 

“So, um, bad time to tell you Evans,” James started, glancing down at their first. “I’m bloody rubbish at dancing.”

He stepped on her foot and punched him in the arm. 

~~~

The third time they danced, Lily realized she was in bloody love with the bloke. 

Seventh year had brought a lot of surprises to Lily, including James as the head boy. It seemed since he walked into the prefect compartment on the very first day on the train, he was all she could think about. 

But they were just friends, she reminded herself every time he would playfully knock her shoulder during patrols, or stay up past midnight talking. 

When Petunia’s wedding invitation arrived at breakfast, Lily didn’t want to go, but an accompanying letter from her mother confirmed that Lily had no choice in the matter, but she could bring a date. 

When she asked James to go, her palms were sweating and her heart was jumping in her throat, but he had said yes, like it wasn’t a big deal. 

Petunia's wedding was on New Year’s eve, going into the new year. Lily had been in a bad mood as a result of her family bossing her around to get the wedding all ready. 

But when James arrived, everything seemed to change for Lily. He was dressed in nice muggle clothes and Lily could tell that he had tried to manage his hair. She hugged him tightly. 

He charmed her whole family in minutes, besides Petunia. Whether because he was a freak like Lily or because he had brown skin, Petunia glared at him constantly, her mouth pinched in a sour expression. 

Lily wanted to apologise for even bringing him into the situation but he wouldn’t hear of it. She instead, grabbing his hand, lacing her fingers with his, and didn’t let go of it once. 

During the ceremony, Lily could only focus on James’s hand in hers. He had always been fidgety, normally bouncing his leg, up and down, but he instead used Lily’s hand. Either drawing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb or just playing with her fingers. Lily didn’t mind it one bit and she realized that she let him do it forever. 

At the reception, Petunia and Vernon cut the cake before quickly going to their first dance. James leaned over from his spot next to her. 

“I thought Muggles smashed the cake into each other’s faces,” he whispered. Lily nodded. 

“Yeah, sometimes, but I highly doubt Petunia would go for that. Especially with how much her dress cost,” Lily replied. James pouted a little. 

“I came to see cake smashing,” he said. “I was going to write a whole paper on it for Muggle Studies.”

Lily laughed, causing a few people to give her some nastly looks because Petunia and Vernon were still doing their dance. 

“I’ll gladly smash some cake in your face,” she said. James squeezed her hand. 

“Save it for the wedding, Lils,” he whispered. 

If Lily’s heart could have leaped out of her chest, it would have in that moment. 

When James pulled out to the dance floor, she knew that she was in trouble, especially when a slow dance came on. She couldn’t help herself as she got closer to him, their bodies touching. 

“I don’t want to step on your feet,” he said, his hazel eyes sparkling as he looked down at her. 

“I don’t care, James,” she replied. “I wore closed toe shoes for a reason.”

He chuckled, Lily feeling his chest move. 

“Sorry I’m a horrid dancer,” he replied. “I practiced with Mum yesterday and I about broke her toes.”

“You practiced with your Mum?” Lily asked, feeling like the whole world stopped. 

“Yeah,” he replied. “I didn’t want to make you look like a bloody fool out here.”

She loved him, every doubt leaving her body. She stopped their lazy swaying and pulled away to look up at him, smiling like a fool. James, who had no idea what Lily was thinking, smiled a little confused. 

“Evans?” he asked. “Everything alright?”

“I bloody love you,” she replied. His eyes widened for a second, but they quickly closed as Lily pulled him into the best kiss of both of their lives. 

~~~

James’s hands were sweating profusely the next time they danced. 

Their small little cottage in the village of Godric’s Hollow was slowly becoming more like home to them, despite the random boxes that still linger two weeks after they moved in together. 

It had been a learning experience for both of them, despite the fact that they practically stayed with each other every night since they graduated Hogwarts some six months ago. 

Lily was a bit messy, rivaling James’s need for clear space. Lily walked through the house on light feet, but James seemed to make as much noise as possible, despite his efforts to be quieter. But all in all, they were happy and adjusting to each other. 

James did a once over of their house again, making sure things were in place. He used his mirror to talk to Sirius and Remus, basically nervously rambling until Remus looked James in the eye and told him he needed to calm down. 

But when the fireplace turned bright green, James quickly stuffed the mirror under the couch cushions and waited for Lily to emerge. 

He smiled widely at her when she stepped through. Her robes were covered in stains and she had a smear of something on her face. She immediately sat her bag down and started taking off her robes. 

“You would not believe what happened today!” she said, barely looking at James, who was smiling like a fool. 

“Was it that Cormic fellow?” James asked. Lily gave him a look, expressing her exasperation. 

“I have no idea how he even got this internship!” she said, her robes finding the ground. “He tried to put mercury in a pepper up potion. Literal poison James!”

Lily stepped forward, hugging James tightly. He squeezed her. 

“And when I put a gram of extra valerian root to increase the time of a pain relief potion, I have to write a whole report to justify it so I don’t get fired. I’m sick of it!”

“It’s absolutely not fair love,” James replied as Lily buried her face into his chest. He ran a hand through her hair. “Why don’t you go unwind in a bath, and I’ll take care of dinner, yeah?”

Lily nodded against his chest. Once she was up the stairs, it was go time. 

James quickly went to the kitchen, and lifted the spells that were keeping the smell contained. He knew if Lily smelled his Mum’s special curry when she first got home, she would be suspicious. The treacle tarts, Lily’s favorite, were kept warm in the oven. 

James quietly transformed their living room, dimming the lighting and starting their fireplace instead. He turned their coffee table into a dining room table, and shrunk the couch, placing it on the mantle for it to return to its normal size later. 

Lily was never long for baths, as she hated getting pruney, but he was adjusting the candles on the table when Lily descended down the stairs. 

“James?” she asked, causing him to jump. Lily was standing on the bottom step, nothing but her dressing gown on, which was tied tightly around her waist. 

James felt a lump in his throat as he took her in. She was so gorgeous and even though James had explored every part of her body, he still felt giddy. 

“I thought a romantic evening would be nice,” he said, gesturing around. Lily smiled. 

James went to the stairs and offered her his arm. 

“What is on the menu tonight?” Lily asked, leaning her head on his shoulder for a moment. 

“Euphemia’s special curry and rice, along with a treacle tart dessert,” James said. 

Lily beamed at him as he pulled out her chair. 

It wasn’t until the plates were empty and her dad’s old record player was playing an Elton John record. 

Just as Your Song by Elton John started, James finally mustered up the courage to start speaking. 

“It’s weird how we’ve been together for less than a year,” James said. Lily hummed in question. 

“Why?” she asked, snuggling up to his chest as they swayed back and forth. 

“It feels like we’ve been together forever,” he said. Lily thought quietly for a second. 

“Yeah, I feel that way too,” she said. “It’s weird. How we went from barely standing each other to missing you every second we’re apart.”

“Still can’t believe we thought we could live apart,” he said. Lily laughed again. 

“Won’t happen ever again, that I’m sure of,” she said. James' heart fluttered happily and the weight of the ring in his pocket seemed a thousand times lighter. 

“Living together forever, then?” he asked softly. 

“I plan on it,” she said, confidently. 

James released her. She looked up with questions in her eyes, but they quickly got the answers as James got on one knee. 

“I plan on forever too,” he said, looking at Lily who’s eyes were filled with tears. “We’re not even 19 yet, but Merlin Lily, I can’t wait. I can’t wait to start the rest of our lives together. I just know that you are the only person for me.”

He pulled the ring out of his pocket. It was a family one, but one that his mother had brought from her own family in India. Euphemia had insisted that this was the right for Lily. It was a simple opal ring, with an intricate band.

“Will you marry me?” he asked. 

Lily nodded, words failing her. She practically tackled him to the ground with kisses. 

~~~

Lily’s eyes opened up. She couldn’t identify the source of what woke her up, but as she turned over on her other side, there was no James besides her. It took a second before she heard the creak in the floorboard, coming from Harry’s room. 

She got up, knowing that Harry normally slept through the night with no problem at his age of a year and a half. The last time he woke up in the middle of the night, he was sick. Lily slipped on her slippers and walked down the hallway. 

Standing in front of the window was James’s silhouette, swaying back and forth. She could see Harry on his hip.

“You just wanted someone to cuddle, did you Harry?” she heard James whisper. Lily smiled widely.

James started humming as he rocked Harry back and forth. He pressed kisses to the top of Harry’s head.

Lily stepped forward, the wood creaking beneath her. James turned around. 

“Did we wake you?” James whispered to her as she crossed the room to him. 

“Probably,” she whispered, a smile on her lips. “But it’s fine.”

She wrapped her arms around the side of James that wasn’t holding Harry. She rested her head against his chest, coming face to face with wide green eyes. She joined in on their swaying. 

“Hi Harry,” she whispered, taking the hand that wasn’t wrapped around James to pat Harry’s back. His eyes started to flutter close. 

“He really just wanted to snuggle, huh?” she asked. 

She felt James chuckled. 

“And dance with us,” he said.

[emsvegetables]

27th: you come across something at terushima’s house.

- you’re here to study and chill with him but you spot a little...something on his study table.

no. of words: 1.2k++

okay. i’ve never written much for terushima but i LOVE terushima so much i think he’s actually got much more than meets the eye!!! i hope this made sense and i hope that it’s okay pls forgive me if it isn’t!!!!!!!!!!!! well. this is the last one!!!! yay!

“i swear, your room only gets messier every single time i visit your house,” you wrinkle your nose in distaste when you enter terushima’s room, and you laugh when you spot something on his bed, “is that a hello kitty soft toy?”

terushima laughs from beside you, and shrugs nonchalantly, “my sister gave it to me, so i might as well keep it.”

“cute,” you smile, and nearly slap yourself when the word comes out of your mouth. maybe you were a bit too obvious in your feelings for him.

“thanks, i know,” terushima grins, before picking up some clothes strewn over his bed and throwing them into the laundry basket, and pulling a pillow and patting the bed, “you can sit here.”

“very comfortable,” you comment when you lower yourself onto the bed, and terushima grins at you, “you’re very welcome, only the best for my queen.”

“that’s gross,” you grimace, “and i’m not your queen.”

“of course, ma’am!” he laughs, saluting to you, “ you can scroll through netflix and choose whatever you want to watch. i’m going to get a drink. you want the one that you always get from the vending machine?”

you nod, smiling at him, “yeah, thank you.”

“no problem,” he winks at you, and even though your heart beats a little too fast at that, you stick out your tongue at him and pretend to vomit.

you settle on a studio ghibli movie, and set it to play as you look around the room.

the room was really like terushima.

random posters were pasted everywhere, clothes were strewn on one side of the room, his study table was messy as hell, and no one would’ve guessed that he was one of the top students in the school, but you know that all the assessment books stacked up on the table amount to it.

“i’m back! oh, we’re watching this? cool,” terushima grins at you and passes you the drink, before settling down beside you and resting his head comfortably on your shoulders.

you try to ignore the way your cheeks burn when he does that.

-

“i need to go to the toilet,” terushima announces, standing up to stretch after a while, “i need to shit.”

you scrunch your nose, “gross.”

terushima grins, and flicks your forehead lightly, “be right back!”

you pause the movie when he leaves, and stand up to stretch as well.

when you eye his study table, you wrinkle your nose again.

“i’m packing your study table!” you yell, and you hear terushima muffled “ok!”, and you smile.

you laugh when you see the doodles of the volleyball team on his math textbook, and you snort when you see how he drew your chemistry teacher on a random post-it pad. you’re almost done sorting out the books when something falls out of the biology journal.

you blink when you read what it says.

steps to get (Y/N) to like me / date me:

win her heart with my jokes (search for funny jokes online)

pickup lines? nevermind they don’t actually work i tried it once and (Y/N) laughed at me. it was a pity laugh. not funny. never trying that again.

help her carry things! (okay she smacked me for helping her carry her clipboard but thanked me and smiled at me for helping her carry the waterbottles. so there are certain things i can carry and certain things i cannot.)

tell her she’s beautiful! (she really is!!!! her smile is the prettiest i’ve ever seen and her laugh is the cutest and she’s just so nice to everyone fuck i like her so much)

ask her out? then admit my feelings to her? (i asked her out for lunch and she said sure!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but i chickened out and i didn’t confess in the end. i’m such a loser fml)

FIND A WAY TO GET OUT OF THE FRIENDZONE!!! (search how to get out of the friendzone online)

just tell (Y/N) i like her alot, that i’ve liked her for a very long time. she’s just so nice and pretty and i think i love her. (and then she’ll slap me and reject me and hate me for life.)

think of more ideas!!!!!!!!

“hey! i’m back--”

you turn to look at terushima, who falls silent when he sees the note in your hands.

“fuck,” he swears, “okay, you weren’t supposed to see that. can we pretend you didn’t see that? but that probably made you uncomfortable. did that make you uncomfortable? do you hate me? it’s okay if you want to slap me. it’s really okay. do you hate me now? i understand if you hate me, it’s okay if you don’t want to speak to me ever again--”

“terushima,” you say, and he quietens instantly, “sorry, (Y/N).”

“is this true?” you bring up the note in your hands and wave it, and he winces and nods.

“you like me? why?” you ask, and you’re so confused, and terushima instantly straightens up and stares at you.

“what do you mean why?” he asks, sounding offended, “why would i not like you?”

“because i’m...this,” you gesture to yourself, and terushima narrows his eyes.

“what do you mean? (Y/N) you’re literally the sweetest person i know. you always offer to help other people even when you have things to do. you always check on everyone in the team to make sure they’re okay after practice. you always try your best to be nice to other people even when they talk shit about you. you’re literally so sweet, and you’re so pretty, and you’re this amazing person. what do you mean this? why would anyone not like you?” terushima says, and he frowns at you.

“oh,” you say, and terushima turns away from you and exhales out a deep breath.

“it’s okay if you don’t like me back, (Y/N), i just hope i didn’t destroy our friendship,” he finally says after a short pause, and you blink.

“no!” you exclaim, and terushima looks up, “no, yuuji—i like you too.”

terushima lets out a noise of surprise, “are you serious?”

“yeah,” you say, and a smile breaks out on his face immediately, and he runs forward to pull you into a hug.

“can i kiss you?” he asks, and you laugh, “why are you even asking? just do it.”

“i’m just making sure,” he says, and you laugh again, before leaning in to meet his lips.

-

“by the way, yuuji?” you say, while his head is resting on your shoulders and your fingers are laced with his.

“hmm?”

“i’m keeping the note.”

“why?” he looks at you, affronted, “is that for future blackmail purposes?”

you laugh, “that, and it’s cute.”

terushima pouts, “i don’t like you anymore.”

“you’re lying.”

“i’m lying,” he agrees, and grins at you as he presses a kiss to your cheek.

back to my fluffvember masterlist!

general taglist :)

send an ask to be added in :D

@mrs-kuroojinguji @galacticstxrdust @h0rny-m3ss @strawberriimilkshake @lexysclubhouse @alluringeternity @newfriendjen @aam1na @simpinghrs @boosyboo9206 @earl-mint-tea @sachirou-senpai @kuboyasuuu @cotton-hashira @kellesvt @mochipk @ohbois-biggay-bnha @deadontheinsidebut @atsumubabe @wisepandaslimeland @doodleniella @tttournesolll @millie-mint @the-moons-raes @chaosamu @flairlust @l3v1achan @bellesowl @wheeshllumi @karasimpno @sodasketches @dai-tsukki-desu @isentsworld @lavearchives

fluffvember taglist:

send an ask if you only want to be added to this instead of the general taglist!

@omigogames @unicorngluttony @thesecondapplepienation @tsukisemi @tamaguchi @omibaby @psycopath-satan @shibayamasbae @churochuu @crazyrichashea @let-me-have-my-own-name @fo-love @heykoutarou @lovelyrynn @neomuxuxi @haikyuuhopes @bluntkingkuroo @abswrites @ne-kuroo @yadane-bakabaka @song-of-storms162 @lady-snavely @hawksnumberoneuwu @rkives-keiji @llamakenma @mrslordexplosionmurder

i’ll tag those that i couldn’t tag later! this is a scheduled post.

[fanmoose12]

ansgty hc inspired by your recent post where hange and levi were sending each other letters: let's say that levi lived until the end of the finale and as he finished helping armin settle in the commander's office, an eccentric-looking box catches his attention. it turns out to be full of hange's old journals she kept as a trainee until she became a commander. some of these write-ups would be yeaaars old. research notes, grocery lists (that had stuff he liked written down, like his favorite brand of black tea and cleaning supplies 🥺) aaaand of course, for a dash of extra pain -- letters she never gave to him (she probably wrote a scratched-out love confession somewhere). imagine a post-war recovering levi clutching hange's journals and reading her entries way baaaack before and during the no regrets ova timeline until the marley vs paradis arc TIME TO SOB :((((((

"Captain, you don't have to do this," Armin spoke softly. "I can clear it all myself."

"No," Levi harshly refused. "I'll do it. It's- it's the least I can do."

"Captain..." there was an infinite sadness in Armin's voice and in his eyes. Some of it, Levi knew, wasn't caused by the need to clean Hange's office. They all had their fair share of tragedies.

"I'm not your Captain anymore," he answered wearily. "And don't bother yourself with worrying about me. Just-"

"I'll give you some time," Armin nodded. He gave Levi one last cautious look and then turned, slowly walking away.

Levi watched him go for a second and then looked at the door, grasping the handle. He opened that door hundreds, if not thousands of times. There shouldn't be anything hard about it. Yet his heart was in his throat as he stared at the wooden surface.

It was the second time he was clearing that particular room. It was the second time he couldn't protect what was important to him.

He let out a shaky breath and turned the handle.

The room was dusty. It was messy, with stacks of papers littering every possible surface. It was... just as Hange left it.

Levi gulped and stepped inside.

His knees grew weaker with every step. He tried to pretend it was from exhaustion. He tried to keep his composure for as long as it was possible.

He decided to start with a desk, gathering all the papers, quills and books. Most of it held no importance - simple reports, accounts and official letters. Levi held each paper with utmost care, laying it inside the card box he had brought with him.

Most of the stuff there was meaningless, useless. But not for him.

For him, it was a proof, an evidence of Hange's existence, a testimony of her work and life, of everything she had accomplished. For Levi, it was the most precious thing in the world.

Slowly and methodically he looked through every paper and journal. Hours went until he moved from the desk to the bookshelf, from the bookshelf to the closet.

His hand trembled, as he opened it and saw Hange's jacket still hanging inside. His fingers touched the soft fabric. It wasn't washed in a long time, Hange's smell still clinged to it. Levi took it off the rack and draped it around his shoulders.

He pulled the jacket tighter around himself and continued with his work. At the back of the closet he saw a small box, and, curious Levi took it in his hands.

Inside lay even more papers, but those were different. They still were written by Hange, but the handwriting was different, a lot messier. They were written before Erwin's death, Levi guessed. They were written back when Hange was still allowed to be a messy, crazy scientist, not an strict and experienced leader.

The box contained her scribblings and doodles, drafts of new weapons and outlines for the next experiments. There were a few of drawings, and the quality of them told Levi that they were most likely done by Moblit.

At the very bottom of it all, Levi found an envelope. 'For Levi' was written on it.

Levi's breath hitched. Carefully he opened the envelope. Inside there was a letter.

Feeling his legs buckle, Levi sat down on chair beside the table and started reading.

If you're reading this, then one of those things happened: you went through my stuff again, probably during your cleaning spree; I was too much of a chicken to tell you everything myself and left it by your door; or... I'm not with you anymore. If the latter is true, than I'm sorry and I hope you can go on without me. Also I hope that in my last moments, I looked as awesome as possible. If not, then please pretend I did.

Either way, I'm writing you this letter because there is so much I want to tell you and so little time to actually talk with you. Life has been hectic in those last years, don't you think? Sometimes I wish we could go back to the way it was. I wish we could go back to the times, where it was just us - you, me, Erwin, Mike, Nanaba and Moblit fighting a hopeless fight against giant monsters. No shifters, no Marley, just our shitty little world inside the walls. Don't you think it'd be nice?

You probably don't, and you probably are rolling your eyes at my naivety. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you how much you mean to me, Levi. You are the closest friend I ever have. You're the last friend that I have, and I... I can not thank you enough for this. For sticking by my side through thick and thin, for tolerating my quirks and weird habits, for being my rock in this sea of uncertainties. I lov... Ah, well, you probably know exactly how I feel about you, subtlety was never my strong forte.

We live in a terrible world, but if there is one thing I'm grateful for, if there is one thing that almost makes it all worth is the fact that I've met you. You make me so happy, Levi, and I'm so happy to have an honor of calling you my friend.

You know, sometimes I wonder - would we still get along if not for our circumstances? Would you still like me if not for the duty that bound us together?

Sometimes I try to imagine a different life, a life where we could be allowed to be happy. To be together - safe and alive. Maybe, I'd still be living with my parents, up in a big mansion in the middle of the capital. Maybe, you'd be a notorious criminal from th Underground I'd have a scandalous affair with! You would sneak into my room in the middle of the night, getting past my father's guards and climbing inside though the window.

Or, maybe, I'd be a student and you'd work at the bar I frequent. I'd be trying to flirt with you to get free drinks for me and my friends, and you'd grumble and roll your eyes at me, waving me off like an annoying fly.

Maybe, we could be simple soldiers, without high ranks and important tasks. We'd be allowed to retire and run away to a small village, where we could live together and raise some cattle.

Wouldn't it be nice?

It would, and I'm sure you think the same. But life is what it is, and, for better or worse, we can't do nothing to change it.

Despite all the shit we've been through, there is one thing I would never think of changing, and it's meeting and befriending you. Whatever happens when you read this letter, I hope you remember this. And remember me.

Forever yours, Hange

There was a dark, old stain at the end of the letter. As he finished reading it, another one appeared.

Levi let the tears flow, rereading the letter again and again. He could almost hear Hange's voice as he read her words. He could almost see her smile and her bright eyes.

He wished Hange told him sooner. He wished he confessed to her before the world had torn them apart. But he knew it wouldn't have changed anything.

They were soldiers, nothing more than tools of war. Their hearts weren't their own, they belonged to humanity.

But with no squad to lead and no battle to fight, Levi turned into an old and broken man. His heart still wasn't his own, as he had given it away, sacrificing it along with his hope for a happy future with the one he loved.

He could still dream, though. Dream of another life, dream of those scenarios Hange described.

He could still dream and hope that it wasn't their last meeting, that in another life, much kinder than this one, they'd be allowed to be happy.

[moonscarsandstars]

happy birthday @sirrriusblack!! you’re an absolutely amazing person and deserve the worldd :)) i hope you have a super lovely day and a very very wonderful year ahead (or i mean just wonderful life in general you deserve it love), and hope you like this fic!

~~~

The bustle of the coffee shop may have been what Sirius loved most about it.

Something about the atmosphere seemed to be noisy yet all too calming at the same time. With the ecstatic chatter of people from Sirius’s classes coming in after school, the hum of the espresso machines at the counter, and the tinkling of the bell that was just above the door. 

In fact, it was that sudden tinkling of the bell that brought Sirius’s attention from whatever chaotic conversation he’d been having with James.

“Oh fuck.”

“What-” started James, before looking at the entrance and grinning. “I think I’ll let you take this shift.”

“Absolutely not,” muttered Sirius before ducking under the counter. There was absolutely no way he was going to tend to Remus Lupin- the exact same seventh year he’d been head over heels with for years now. Not if he didn’t want to embarrass himself by probably spilling coffee and forgetting his own name.

“Pads,” said James, trying to pull Sirius’s wrist. “Get up, you’re breaking at least fifteen rules here. It’s just going to be a few seconds of talking.”

“It’ll be the longest few seconds ever.”

“But it’ll be the best few seconds, won’t it?” Asked James with a smirk.

Sirius stuck his tongue out.

“I’m not wrong, am I?” 

Grabbing the counter, Sirius gave one last scowl at James before pulling himself up.

“Sorry about that,” he said, staring pointedly down at a pair of worn converse. “How may I help you?”

If the scraping of chairs in the background wasn’t so loud, the entire floor would probably be able to hear Sirius’s heart rapidly beating against his chest.

“As many double shot espressos as this can get, please,” said Remus flatly, slamming a crumpled ten pound note onto the counter.

Blinking, Sirius’s eyes widened.

“Exams.” Holding up a history textbook, Remus managed to drop at least a dozen loose papers.

“Ah, I see,” quipped Sirius with a grin. “On the house in that case. Name?”

“Moony,” replied Remus distractedly, trying to pick up all the papers and meet Sirius’s gaze.

God, his eyes were fucking beautiful.

“Moony?”

“Yes, M- oh, uh-”

“Moony it is.”

“I- okay, yes, okay.”

“Are you okay?”

Looking at the dark circles under his eyes and the constant yawning, Remus looked either like he hadn’t slept in days, or just woken up from sleeping for days. The irony was, Sirius couldn’t tell which.

“I’ll be good, thanks,” said Remus, wandering off after Sirius’s smile. But Sirius could here him vaguely mumble something along the lines of “even my textbooks aren’t okay” and couldn’t stop himself from chuckling out loud.

~~~

Maybe if Remus had any logic, he wouldn’t have deleted the exam timetable. 

Or had to cram in his ten hours of history content into two hours of revision. Or have stumbled into the exact coffee place he pointedly avoided everyday. Or be sitting here with five shots of strong coffee trying to read the same line over and over again.

Sipping on an extremely bitter glass, Remus glared at his illegible notes with an even more bitter look.

“Need any help?”

Remus’s heart skipped a beat.

“I think I’m good, thanks,” said Remus, proceeding to curse under his breath as he knocked over a glass.

“Oh, I should-” started Sirius, before running off and returning with a cloth and a spray as Remus quietly wished he could sink into the ground.

“Sorry about this. I- well- didn’t get the timetable,” he muttered sheepishly.

“You didn’t? Why not?”

“Well I did,” Remus looked away, before continuing. “But I deleted it.”

Sirius stopped what he was doing to look Remus dead in the eye. “You deleted it? The mocks timetable?”

“Accidentally! No- stop laughing!”

But Remus couldn’t stop himself from catching Sirius’s laugh, holding his aching stomach no matter how much he should’ve been worrying.

God, he had such a contagious fucking laugh.

“What’re you studying?” Managed Sirius, after an intense few seconds of holding his stomach and trying not to burst into laughter again.

“History.”

“I thought you loved it though, I mean, you’re always reading it in the-” Sirius stopped himself, as an almost invisible blush rushed up his cheeks.

“You noticed?”

“I- that was much creepier than it was meant to be.”

Remus chuckled, but there was no hint of discomfort, much to Sirius’s relief. “Love history. Hate history exams.”

“Makes sense I suppose.”

“As for being creepy, I suppose it makes up for me finishing your espresso stock,” said Remus, vaguely gesturing at his messy, half-finished collection of espresso shots.

“Oh please, don’t bother. We stock up for exam season.”

“You’re kidding.”

“And you’re not alone. I’ve a nice collection of coffee at my flat, actually. And history textbooks. Well, art history, but still.”

Raising his eyebrows, Remus quipped, “Careful, that might sound like an invitation.”

“Maybe it is,” said Sirius with what Remus could have sworn was a wink that sent the childish butterflies in his stomach crazy.

“Sirius? Where the hell are you?”

Jumping in surprise, Sirius yelled back “I’m coming!” before turning to Remus. “I’m very sorry, but I’m also very much in trouble.”

And with that, he rushed off leaving Remus flustered, confused and in realisation of just how much he’d put off. 

~~~

Reluctantly, after a few minutes of mindless doodling and giddy smiling, Remus came to the conclusion that he’d never finish anything in this particular coffee shop- not the studying, nor the coffee. Definitely not with all the distractions. 

Yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave, not with the memory of Sirius’s wide grin and sparkling eyes. That is, until a voice from behind managed to scared the living daylights out of him.

“This place does close unfortunately.”

Jumping out of his skin, Remus whipped his head around with a start. There Sirius was, grinning like an idiot, trademark apron folded on a shelf revealing his shirt- top two buttons undone, Remus noticed with a start- and black jeans. Suddenly, he felt a wave of consciousness in his overflowing jumper that rolled up at his wrists.

“That- really is tragic. I was planning to sleep here, you see.”

“Well,” started Sirius, a smile playing on his lips. “What if I offered you another place to sleep?” 

Remus silently cursed as his heartbeat raced. He thoroughly hoped that the heat travelling up his cheeks wasn’t as visible as Sirius’s knowing grin made it out to be. Sirius was going to be the death of him.

“But really,” started Sirius, giving a look at his watch. “It’s getting late.”

“Sorry,” said Remus, not at all sorry for every second he spent stalling and spending time with Sirius. “Just give me a second to pack up, yeah?”

“Of course. And my offer still stands.”

“Does it come with benefits?”

Now it was Sirius’s turn to blush, eyes widening and parting his lips in a split second of surprise that turned into that same, ear-to-ear grin. Pointing to the counter awkwardly, Sirius chuckled, “I’ll- I’ll meet you there.”

The way Sirius’s blushed seemed to travel to his neck brought a smile to Remus’s lips, filled partly with some sort of satisfaction and partly fluster in its own way. Heading up to the counter, he dragged his feet in a pathetic attempt to take as long as he could.

“I’ll be heading out now,” said Remus, slapping a pathetic two dollars onto the counter as some form of tip. But his tired expression turned into confusion as Sirius produced another order of coffee, fixing the lid on before handing it to Remus.

“I- I really appreciate this, but the ten pounds was all I had-”

“Oh please, this is complimentary. On me, if you will.”

“I couldn’t,” insisted Remus, finding it increasingly difficult to refuse something from Sirius.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll want it anyway. Really, consider it a gift?”

Sirius had that earnest look in his eyes- the one that reminded Remus almost of a puppy that you just couldn’t refuse. It was infuriating, he told himself as he accepted it. “Thank you so much, I owe you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” said Sirius, leaving the counter and twisting the “open” sign to display the word “closed”. “I’ll see you soon if I’m lucky.”

And with that, he disappeared, leaving Remus confused and heart hammering against his chest. 

But that grin returned to his face as Remus turned to the cup, recognising that familiar scrawl spelling out the words scrawled on the cup read “To moony,” with an address.

[hushedhands]

Challenge 83

@cecilia02 @everbeenminee Astra watching Andrew's coronation.

Astra Orders set an alarm for three o’clock in the morning, but she didn't need it. She didn't sleep at all.

Her mom had invited her to watch the once-in-a-generation event with her little cousins in Illéa Palace, but Astra had refused. Kile had offered to stay the night and keep her company, but that hadn't felt right either. Her dad had suggested not watching at all, which was cute but not really a solution. It would be weeks before footage of this faded from the news, and even then there would be anniversary specials forever. Astra might as well bite the bullet and watch the coronation that had almost been hers.

She wished her parents and her boyfriend weren’t making such a fuss about this. History was full of women who'd almost married princes and then gone home to watch them become kings. Her Uncle Maxon had left dozens of such women in his wake when he’d chosen to marry Aunt Ames, though Astra didn't have the telephone numbers of any of them. She wished Andrew had enough ex-girlfriends to make a proper club like the former Selected. It might have been nice to have someone who could understand this indescribable feeling without the need for words to name it.

It wasn't that she wanted to be married to Andy. She had no doubt at all that she'd made the right decision in calling off their relationship, and that was totally separate from the fact that she was now wildly in love with Kile.

But there was something aching in her chest as she watched the aerial shots of the city of London on the little television in her apartment in Angeles, curled up in her warmest fuzzy pajamas, hair in a messy version of her ballet bun, hands clinging to her mug of tea for dear life. Today was the day that standing by Andrew's side for his coronation went from something she wouldn’t do to something she couldn't do. She'd chosen to walk away, but this was the day that the door locked behind her.

Never was a hard word to give to Andrew, even if Kile had her Always.

The camera above the crowd panned past the palace Astra had stayed in that summer, and her chest squeezed hard. Whatever else had happened there, it had been a refuge for her at a time in her life when she’d needed it most.

It all started when she had been offered an incredible opportunity to dance for the Waverly ballet company in the summer, and an opportunity to attend an elite seminar with London’s royal ballet company in the spring, and Kile, realizing that he and Astra wouldn’t see each other for over six months, had broken up with her very suddenly.

Well, technically it had been a mutual decision. She hadn’t seen him much during his first year at school, and now she was off on her own adventures, and it seemed like a terrible time to try to make a relationship work. What if he met someone amazing at university? What if she met someone in Waverly or London? Was it fair to deny themselves new relationships and experiences just because they’d always been together? Weren’t they technically together by default, anyway?

It was a reasonable question. If you married someone you’d had playdates with for as long as you could remember, and you never even tried to date someone else, it was probably a relationship by default… right?

As she got on the plane for London, it had hit her hard that she wouldn’t have a hope of seeing Kile again, maybe for an entire year. The earliest she’d be back in Angeles was the next fall, and that’s exactly when he’d be leaving to go back to school again. And this time they wouldn’t talk to each other on the telephone almost every single day, and she wouldn’t slip secret notes in the care packages his parents sent him from home, and he wouldn’t surprise her by sitting in the audience during a matinee performance after sneaking back into town without telling her...

And maybe he never would again.

It was possible she’d cried the whole flight overseas, it was hard to remember. She must have rehydrated somehow, or she’d have shriveled up and died of the heartbreak. That time was all a blur now.

But what Astra remembered clearly, sitting on her sofa four years later, was the way she’d felt walking into that little old palace on the north side of the city and realizing that it was essentially hers for the season. It really paid to have a paranoid king for an uncle sometimes, because Maxon had pulled a dozen favors with the English royal family to get Astra somewhere safe and comfortable to live for a few months. She was technically an Illéan princess by title, so he wouldn’t hear of letting her rent a crumby apartment somewhere in the city, and besides, wherever she stayed needed to have enough room for a security detail. Still, even for a small palace, it was a palace and it was hers.

The old place had plenty of full-time staff that kept it in good shape as an estate of historical significance to the English monarchy, but Astra herself didn’t have maids or butlers, or a chef to keep her fed. At night, everyone who worked to keep the palace maintained went home, so it was only her and the security detail.

But she was allowed to order takeout from restaurants around town, so on her very first night alone she ordered enough food to live off of for a while, until she could get to a grocery store. She sprawled on a sofa in the downstairs sitting room, doodling in the notebook her Aunt May had given her for her last birthday, until there was a surprise knock on the archway in the entrance of the sitting room.

“Hello.” Andrew stood there, still in his business suit from the day, though with no tie, and with the top button undone. He looked ruffled, and in his hands he carried a large bottle of red wine. “Sorry to barge in… there isn’t exactly a doorbell in this place, and without staff to handle arrivals and departures… well, I did knock.” he awkwardly concluded.

Astra, still in her tank top and stretchy pants from the plane, would have felt severely underdressed to received a prince at a palace, except this was one of her oldest and best friends, and some of the ache in her heart from leaving Kile on the other side of the world eased away just from looking at him. She hugged him, “You don’t need to knock. It’s good to see you.”

“And you.” he hugged her back. “Ah, and here. A housewarming gift.” he offered her the wine.

“You’re just in time for dinner.”

“Am I?”

“It should be here soon. The finest spicy noodles and sautéed vegetables in the land. Although, if there’s no doorbell…”

“The guard at the gate will take it from the delivery driver and have someone bring it in.” he grinned.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go hunt down something to open that bottle.” she said.

A new city, a change of scenery, some delicious New Asian food, a bottle of old wine, a dear old friend… this was the recipe to get over a breakup. Astra knew it, because she already felt worlds better, just struggling to find a way into the wine bottle. There wasn’t a corkscrew in the kitchens that they could find, and this palace didn’t have its own wine cellar, which was the only other place they could think to find wine accessories. In the end, Andrew took an impressive, ancient sword off of a display rack on a wall at the top of the grand staircase and carefully poked the sharp end down until it was lodged into the cork.

Astra laughed so hard her sides hurt as she twisted the bottle out in front of her and Andrew slowly stepped backward. After a couple of tries, the cork loosened up enough that he could use brute force to pull the rest of it out.

When the food arrived, they carried it up to the top floor, to a balcony that overlooked the city, and they had a picnic of sorts.

“Where’s Lucas? You two are usually a package set.” Astra asked between bites of spicy noodles.

“Still finishing up his first year at university.”

“Oh, of course! Kile— “ She stopped abruptly, her chest squeezed tightly, her tongue fell heavy in her mouth, and she drowned the bitter taste of his name on her lips with expensive wine.

“Oh dear. That won’t do.” Andrew leant over and brushed away an errant tear from her cheek. “You mean to tell me… well, he’s safe isn’t he? He’s not unwell?”

“No, no he’s fine. He’s at school… and I’m here.”

Andrew studied her face carefully. He’d met Kile and Astra on the same day, at the same moment, so they’d been friends for exactly the same amount of time. He knew that they’d been together romantically for almost seven years now, the teenage equivalent of a sixty-year marriage. “So you’re… taking time apart?”

“We’ve decided to go our separate ways.” Astra said, the words soft and wispy in her throat. “We’re not… we’re not headed in the same direction anymore. We might never head in the same direction again. After university, he wants to see the world. And I… I might travel around for a while as a dancer, but I can’t imagine not being there for Addy once she becomes Queen… Even if that wasn’t true, we won’t have a good chance to be in the same city for at least a year… and a lot can happen in a year.”

Andrew took a large sip from his glass and then refilled hers.

“That’s really difficult, Astra… I’m so sorry. I know how much you love each other. It must be hell, knowing that you’re growing apart from the person you’re closest to in the world.”

Astra choked a sob in her wineglass and Andrew’s eyes widened, “God, I’m sorry! What a terrible thing to say—“ he sat both of their glasses safely aside and wrapped her in a warm hug.

Astra got his suit all wet from her tears, but she felt comfortable in his arms. “I’m not crying because of you, stupid.” She explained when she had the breath to do so. “It’s definitely because of him. I just… I didn’t think anyone would understand. But you do.”

“I don’t.” Andy rushed to correct her. “Not really. I’ve never experienced anything like that. The closest I can imagine is if… if I lost touch with someone in the Palace kid gang. You’re my best friends, apart from Luke, and I’ve known you forever. If I had to say goodbye to one of you, to lose you forever… it’s not even close to what you’re feeling, but just the thought hurts enough for me to know that you’re going through hell.”

Astra sniffled and collected her wineglass again, ready for more sips, content to allow herself to be comforted by her friend. “Hell has better wine than I expected, I’ll give it that much.”

“Not a bad view, either.” Andrew agreed with a small chuckle, looking out at the city.

“Didn’t expect one of my very best friends to come with me to hell.” Astra timidly admitted.

“And I’m not leaving until I get you out of it.” he’d promised.

Andrew always did have words as sweet as honey.

They drank the whole bottle that night, between the two of them. They had as good an excuse as two teenagers needed: they couldn’t find a wine stopper. Andrew offered to stay the night with her so that she wouldn’t be alone, but now that the world was blurry and warm from the wine, Astra felt delightfully sleepy. She was going to get her first good night’s sleep since losing Kile. So Andrew left, promising to bring breakfast the next morning to check on her.

He checked on her a lot.

He brought her breakfast and dinner every day, and he’d probably have brought her lunch too, except that she was always at her dance seminar during the daytime. Astra ended every night with her body pleasantly tired from dancing, a new half a bottle of wine in her stomach, and her mind full of whatever nice, easy conversation she’d had with Andrew just before bed. Her first week in England flew by.

That Friday night, Andrew appeared in the doorway to the sitting room right on schedule, two bottles of wine in hand.

“You’re mad.” Astra giggled.

“It’s the weekend.” he argued. “You don’t have to dance tomorrow, and I don’t have any public appearances to make until next Tuesday.”

“You’re off work until Tuesday? You English royals really know how to take it easy.” she laughed. She didn’t think her cousins had taken a three day weekend in their lives.

“We’ll keep the second bottle on standby, just in case we decide we want to try it.”

But of course, they were young and it was a Friday night, they definitely wanted to try it. Somewhere after the first glass of the second bottle, refilling glasses got too risky and they started drinking straight from the bottle, passing it back and forth. There was a television show on, showing a concert happening on the other side of the city in a stadium Astra could just see if she stood tall enough on the balcony.

Andrew watched her going almost en pointe to try to spy the stadium, mesmerized by her strength and balance and grace. “Can we dance?”

Astra smiled brightly. Dancing was her favorite in the world, of course they could dance! They danced in their socks to the music on the television until Andrew collapsed, out of breath, on the sofa. Astra joined him, blood pumping pleasantly fast through her veins.

“I’m out of shape!” he bemoaned.

“I’m a professional athlete, don’t compare yourself to me. You did just fine.”

“I did? Do you think I could join the ballet?” He laughed giddily.

She’d never seen him giddy like this.

Andy carried the weight of his country on his shoulders, he always had. Addy hadn’t really started bearing Illéa on her back until she was eleven or twelve, old enough to understand what was coming for her, but Andrew had always been a future king, even when he was tiny. Seeing him now, not a care in the world, laughing about joining the ballet… Astra’s heart twisted in her chest and for the first time since breaking up with Kile, it had absolutely nothing to do with him.

He had no part of this.

Astra leant forward and kissed Andrew on the warm, red cheek.

He looked at her, stunned, smile falling off his face. “What was that for?”

“I don’t know… just because. Just for you.”

“Just for me…” he’d mused.

“For being good to me. For taking care of me while I’m here. For… for being you. Yeah… just for you.” Astra nodded, this time more certain that the words made sense outside of her wine-fogged mind.

“I should be me more often.” he chuckled.

Astra blinked.

Should he?

***

There was a version of Astra’s stay in London where she pined away for her ex-boyfriend every moment she got, and maybe poured that pain into her dancing because it was overflowing from her heart and needed somewhere to go. That’s what she’d been expecting deep down. But what really happened was, she found a favorite market to buy groceries from, she found a bakery between her palace and the dance studio that kept her in much-needed carbs, she found a park with a pond where lots of locals liked to walk their dogs, which meant she got to pet a lot of dogs, and she started falling in love with the city.

And then there was Andrew.

He knew her so well, and they’d loved each other as friends for so long, and spending those mornings and nights with him felt so easy, so smooth.

And he was handsome and kind and… ugh, handsome. Astra didn’t regret kissing him on the cheek. Not even when he stood with her on the balcony a week later, watching the sunset, and she laced her hand with his.

“Are you quite alright?” he’d asked, not because she’d grabbed his hand, but just because he was still so worried about her.

“When I got here, I thought the answer to that question would be no forever.” Astra confessed. “And listen… I don’t really know who I am without Kile, he’s been a part of me for my whole life… but these past two weeks I’ve started to find out… and I like it. I like getting to know me.”

Andrew smiled down at her and squeezed her hand.

“And I like you too, Andrew.”

His smile became pained, “Astra—“

“It’s okay. You’re the next king and blah blah blah.” he laughed, because there were so few people in the world who could blah blah blah being an heir to a throne, but Astra was certainly one of them.

“It isn’t that.” he corrected her with a shake of his head. “It’s… you’re getting out of a serious relationship. You can’t like anyone yet—“

“Yes I can.” Astra scoffed, a challenging glint in her eyes, “Watch me.”

“But we’ve been friends our whole lives, too. Wouldn’t you like to like someone different? A stranger, maybe?”

“Where would I find one of those?” Astra lamented, only half-joking. Having a king for an uncle really limited one’s opportunities to meet strangers.

Andrew peered at her closely, then seemingly made up his mind all at once, saying, “Put on a dress.”

“What?”

“Put on a dress, I’ve got a surprise for you!”

Just like that, Andrew was downstairs talking to his security team and Astra was upstairs trying to figure out what dress to wear. There was a sweet springtime yellow thing… and then there was the red thing.

Astra made up her mind quickly. She chose the red thing. She chose everything that the red thing implied.

She appeared at the bottom of the stairs and Andrew’s eyes widened.

“Is this alright? I have other dresses—“

“S’perfect—“ he muttered and then cleared his throat, “Ahem, that is perfect Astra. Let us be off.”

He formally offered her his arm and she accepted with a proud smirk at the flush in his cheeks, then they ducked into his car and his driver whisked them off across town.

“What are we doing?” Astra asked after they took a turn to a part of town she’d never been to before.

“Did I not say it is a surprise?”

“Yes, but—“

“We’ve got guards, and I’ve gone to this place before. There’s no need to worry.”

“Andrew—“

“It’s where I go when I need to meet strangers.”

Astra blinked, dumbfounded.“You? Meet strangers?”

“How else am I supposed to find a queen? ” he muttered mutinously.

Astra stared over at him for a long moment, never having given it a second thought. Addy would be free to date whomever she chose, but if all else failed she could always have a Selection to find her husband. Andrew had nothing like that to choose from.

Astra was surprised when the car pulled to a stop at the backdoor to a nightclub. Could princes of England really go clubbing? But this place looked like it had tight security, and there were signs posted prominently that there were no cameras allowed on the premises. Andrew’s and Astra’s bodyguards stayed close by as they entered the club and Astra’s ears were assaulted by music so loud she could no longer hear it. All she could hear was the beat.

Andrew took her to the bar and bought her whatever drink she wanted, and then leant in close to her ear so that she could hear him say, “What do you think?”

“It’s a little loud!”

He chuckled, “About the strangers.”

“Oh!” Astra looked around as she spun the little umbrella from her pink drink between her fingers. There were all kinds of men here. Some older than her, some younger, some looked athletic and some looked bookish, and they were all having fun, losing themselves to the same beat. “What do you think?!” she yelled at him.

He looked around at the women in the room, sizing them up, and then shrugged, “Hard to say.”

“How do we meet them?!” Astra was yelling, while somehow he was able to keep his voice low and still be heard when he leaned close to her ear.

“Honestly? They usually just come up to me…” he confessed.

Astra rolled her eyes. Royals.

Sure enough, several women came up to Andrew and threw themselves at him while he and Astra waited for even one man to make a pass at her.

“Maybe you’re intimidating them away!” Astra suggested.

“Maybe so. Do you want me to go dance?”

Did she want him to go dance with one of the strange women in the club so that a strange man might come up to her and hit on her?

Not really, no. She wanted to dance with him. She liked dancing with him. More than that, she didn’t want to dance with anyone else. And she didn’t want him to dance with anyone else. She took his hand and dragged him out to the dance floor, their bodyguards hilariously close by, and they started moving.

It wasn’t dancing the way Astra was trained to think of it. There was no choreography, no gentle swell of melody to carry her movements, this was something far more basic than that. The best part was how quickly she was able to stop thinking about anything but her own breath, the sweat on her brow, and the man in front of her.

There was nothing else in the world. For as long as they could stay with the beat, there was only the beat. Endorphins that she associated with a long hard workout flooded her body, and Astra felt good. And beyond feeling good, she did not feel sad. She did not miss anybody. Not her family on the other side of the world, and not Kile. She was complete right here. All she had to do was make this last forever.

“I am not a professional dancer.” Andrew reminded her, breath coming far too fast to get that whole sentence out without gasping for air several times in the middle.

Astra giggled at him, then hugged him close, “This place is magical!” she yelled in his ear.

“Magical?”

And just to prove the point, and to express her gratitude, she pecked his lips with a kiss.

That was it, right? A kiss of gratitude?

As first kisses went, it was silly. They were both too out of breath to do more than mash their lips together for a second and then go back to gasping for air. Andrew led them away for water and after a few minutes to recover, he was ready to try again.

Astra helped him find a way to move to every other beat instead of every beat, essentially cutting the speed of his dancing in half for him. That helped tremendously. But to help him do this, she had to wrap her arms around his neck to guide him, and once he had the beat it was all much less frantic and much more sensual. This time when they kissed, it was not a silly peck on the lips.

Astra had only ever kissed Kile before, but since that was never happening again, she didn’t allow herself to think about that. She didn’t think about how Andrew was taller than Kile, and his cheeks were softer because he shaved every single morning without fail. She didn’t think about anything except how nice it was not to feel pain. When she was with Andrew, especially when she was kissing Andrew, she felt nothing but joy.

Was she using him to feel better?

If someone made you feel better and wanted to be around you, was that even using them?

They stayed at the club until Andrew was too tired to go on (and even Astra was ready to admit she was tired), and then they climbed back into Andrew’s car and rode off into the night.

Astra’s ears were ringing with the sudden silence, and they were both flushed and dripping with sweat. Astra was ready to bet her face matched the red of her dress and her hair, and was ready to feel embarrassed about that somewhere beneath her exhaustion, when Andrew slid his hand over to hers and squeezed.

She looked over at him and smiled.

It was past 2 in the morning when they got back to Astra’s palace, and Astra couldn’t believe they’d spent so many hours getting swept away like that.

“I’d do that every night if I thought my hearing could survive it.” Astra admitted as they struggled to get up the stairs, feeling distinctly like they had overcooked pasta for legs.

Astra took an ice-cold bath and then rolled her legs out to try to avert any soreness the next morning, and then she found Andrew in one of the guest bedrooms. “Thanks for the dancing… sorry we didn’t meet any strangers.” she grinned.

“I’m not.” he admitted, with complete candor.

“Well then, no future queen for you and no non-childhood friend to date for me.”

“Perhaps you could find a childhood enemy?” he suggested, and she laughed at the dryness of voice as he made the joke.

“Yes, I’ll have to make do.” she agreed.

***

The kisses felt stolen for the first week, like they were getting away with something they weren’t supposed to, but then one day Andrew showed up with Astra’s favorite breakfast, and two paper travel cups of tea, and he pecked her on the lips in greeting and it didn’t feel stolen at all. It felt as comfortable as an old sweater, and made her feel just as warm inside.

To celebrate the end of her first month in London, Astra ordered dinner for them from the same restaurant they’d eaten at on her very first night in town. He showed up looking frazzled after a long day of talking with members of parliament, but all the more pleased to see her because that stress was over now. And, of course, he brought her the same kind of wine they’d shared that first night.

Astra had bought a corkscrew weeks ago now, so they didn’t need to resort to using ancient swords to open their alcohol, which made it slightly less interesting. Astra curled up against him on the balcony overlooking the city and kissed him every chance she got.

“You’re certainly in a mood.” he noted with a smile down at her, after their fourth surprise kiss.

“I’m just glad to be here.”

“Are you?” he seemed surprised. She didn’t blame him. It was quite a turn from her first weepy night a month ago.

“Yes. I think London’s been good for me.”

And maybe she meant the city, with her new favorite local spots and the friends she was making at the seminar, but maybe she meant Andrew. Maybe she couldn’t really tell the difference, and it was all just good for her.

“I am very glad to hear that.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go to Waverly in two months.” Astra admitted. “It’s an amazing opportunity for my career, not to mention I’ll get to visit my grandparents in Carolina all the time, but… I like London.”

This time she was blatantly talking about him.

“Well… London’s not going anywhere anytime soon, I suppose.” he pointed out, fully onto her game.

She hmm-ed into her wineglass, “I suppose not.”

“And you’re always welcome in London, you know.”

Astra giggled and shook her head, surprising him with another kiss as a reward for playing along with her silly euphemism.

Later that night, when the food was stashed away in the kitchen and the wine was mostly empty, Andrew joined Astra again on the balcony as she stood there with the springtime breeze blowing through her loose, curly hair. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“I meant it, you know.” he said. “You could stay as long as you like. There’s a tremendous ballet company in London, perhaps you’ve heard of it.”

Astra laughed, pressing a hand to his over her stomach and turning to look up at him. “Maybe someday.”

“You’re dead-set on going to Waverly, then?”

“Well, I’ve signed a contract.” she explained.

“Ah. They shall imprison you if you break it. I understand.”

His voice was always so serious when he joked, never giving away the game. She laughed at the thought and said, “Yes, there’s a special prison for ballet dancers who break their contracts, it’s especially brutal. I hear they make you dance to jazz all day.”

This time his lips brushed the placed where her shoulders met her neck, and her breath hitched at the sensation. “I shan’t extradite you.” he concluded, his warm lips brushing her skin. “I shall keep you here, safe and sound, far away from the ballet constables.”

Astra laced her fingers with his over her stomach and said, “They’re relentless, the ballet constables. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

His lips trailed up her neck and stopped at her ear where he said softly, “I think I can manage.”

Astra’s entire body erupted in chills, and suddenly she didn’t want to continue their elaborate, jokey banter about the consequences of her actions. She turned in his arms and pressed her lips roughly to his, knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that all she really wanted was to lose herself in the taste and the feel and the smell of him. Andrew was the only person in the world who made her not care about the future, and when his lips were on her skin that was doubly true.

It wasn’t exactly real happiness she felt when she was lying in bed with him, his sandy brown hair all ruffled, his arm slung across her like he was afraid she’d disappear in the night. True, meaningful, lasting happiness was something that required a lot of factors: feeling good about the present and hopeful about the future, and at peace with the past. Astra wasn’t at peace with her past, and she didn’t even want to think about the future, but the present… the present was so good. It was one out of three. One out of three wasn’t bad.

***

If Andrew’s parents noticed that he was essentially living with Astra that spring, they didn’t say anything about it. Maybe they just assumed that, since they were close friends, he was keeping her company and enjoying a nice, extended visit. And that was perfectly true, except that they were sharing a bed and occasionally a shower, and they shared a cup of coffee in the morning and a bottle of wine at night.

They didn’t go back to that club, but they found other ways to go out together without being photographed. There were secret tables in the kitchens of restaurants, special royal boxes in theaters, private trains to private estates, and one time there was a royal yacht. Astra was surprised that Andy had so much freedom, as the heir to the throne. Addy couldn’t have dreamed of roaming around Illéa the way that Andrew was gallivanting across his future kingdom. Sure, part of it was Andrew making sure Astra was having the time of her life— he probably didn’t usually venture away from home so much— but even so.

“Will you be able to keep this up once you’re king?” she’d asked him as they sat curled up together on a train ride returning from the south. “All this rambling.” she explained at his questioning look.

“Ah. No, there will certainly be less. But my job will be nothing nearly so intense as King Maxon’s, if that is what you’re thinking. For one thing, I’ve got parliament.”

Astra wasn't exactly sure how England’s parliament worked. She knew King Eoan set the legislative agenda, but he couldn’t pass any kind of law on his own. “I can’t believe they let you have a whole train to yourself, and you barely have to work.” she teased.

His arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and his thumb began tracing her upper arm as he said, “If you think my future job’s a scandal, you should see what our queen has to do. Host parties, go shopping, appear at events…” his voice sounded as if it was a strain to remain light and carefree. As if his words were more important than he wanted them to be.

Astra leaned her head on his shoulder. Those were all things she already did for Illéa. Well, she didn’t host many parties, but she sometimes helped her Aunt Ames out when things were especially overwhelming. It was strange to think that she had experience doing the same job as the Queen of England.

“All that, and she gets to retire young?”

“Assuming that whole heir business is sorted out sufficiently early.” he admitted.

“Oh, that.” Astra giggled.

“On the whole, it’s not a terrible job.” he said.

“No, not when you factor in the jewelry.” Astra agreed, still joking.

“Precisely.” Andrew nodded with a small smile against the top of her head.

Astra wasn’t sure why he didn’t return her joke with one of his own.

***

Though Astra very much enjoyed being swept off her feet by the prince, it was the quiet nights at the palace that meant the most to her. Sometimes, after dinner and a long, hot bath, her joints would feel well enough to practice some choreography in one of the drawing rooms. Andrew would play the piano for her, putting years of lessons to use for the first time. Sometimes her joints would not feel well enough for more dancing after a long day at the seminar, and he’d rub her battered feet and ankles until she melted into a puddle at the other end of the sofa or bed, or wherever they happened to be.

She’d ask him about his work, but he wouldn’t tell her much. Maybe he was worried about protecting state secrets, or maybe he didn’t want to worry her. Maybe he didn’t want her to see him in less than a good mood, because he was only there to make her happy. And how could she not be happy?

One night, in the middle of her second month in England, as she laid awake in their bed and brushed her fingers through his unruly hair (a sight so few had ever seen: the Heir to England with unruly hair), she pressed a kiss to the shell of his ear and said softly, “What are we going to do when I have to leave for Waverly?”

Sleepily, he’d pried his eyes open, his eyelashes fluttering against her skin. “What would you like to do?”

“Freeze this moment in amber. Live in it forever.”

“Be young, in love, and carefree forever?” he’d smirked.

“In love?” she’d hesitated, surprised. They’d only been attached at the lips for six weeks now, as impossible as it seemed. Hadn’t they enjoyed half a lifetime together already?

“Oh dear.” He’d lifted his head up so that he could look in her eyes, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Astra shook her head, “It’s okay. I do love you Andrew.”

“Do you?” he sounded amazed.

And she did. She’d always loved him, just as he’d always loved her. They’d grown up together, perfect friends, how could she not love him?

“I’m sorry you didn’t know that already.” she let her hand fall from his hair down his spine, coming to rest on his bare lower back. She traced the shape of a heart there with her finger and he shuddered. “You’re one of the best friends I’ll ever have, and I love you.”

He smiled and returned his cheek to her chest, listening for her heartbeat. “Yes. This moment would do just fine.”

“We could freeze this moment and allow archaeologists to discover it in a few thousand years.”

“And if we don’t like the future, we could simply freeze this moment again.” he agreed.

“You don’t think you’d be bored after a few thousand years?”

He grinned, one hand tracing her ribcage lazily, “I could find a few ways to keep myself occupied.”

***

Astra didn’t notice the first time there was a photographer waiting outside of the dance studio after her rehearsals. And then, a couple of days later, when a rumor sourced to a local food delivery driver was printed in a Sunday paper saying that he delivered Prince Andrew’s favorite kind of curry to the Palace where Astra was staying a couple of times per week. She didn’t mind when Andrew suggested they stop sneaking out to exclusive clubs or restaurants around the city, because staying in was extremely entertaining.

But it was hard to miss when Andrew nervously appeared in her doorway one evening and said, instead of ‘hello’ or ‘how was your day’, “Grandmother has asked to meet you.”

Astra gaped. Queen Cerridwen, King Eoan’s mother, had never met any of the Illéan royals in-person. Maybe she’d met Uncle Maxon back before he was King, when she was still the active queen, but maybe not even then. “Me? Wh…why?”

Andrew ran a hand through his hair and ruffled it in a way that would have been funny if he hadn’t look so stressed. He sank to his knees to sit next to Astra, who’d been sitting on the floor, using the coffee table to hold her nail polish bottles as she painted her toes. “The rumors got to her.”

“Rumors… about us?”

Andrew nodded, “I’ve had the press department squashing everything the second they hear about it, and it’s bought us some time, but the rumors have been consistent for long enough now—“

“The rumors that we’re spending time together?” Astra asked.

“Yes.” Andrew looked faintly nauseous.

Astra smiled and traced his cheekbone with her thumb soothingly, “We are spending time together. We’re not being falsely accused.”

“No, I know… I think, just… I think we need to talk.”

Those were heavy words.

Kile had been the last one to say those words to her, and the outcome had been really unpleasant.

“You didn’t bring wine?” Astra noticed for the first time.

“I wanted us to keep our heads clear.”

“Are you ending this?” Astra asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“No.” Andrew promised. “But we’ve never talked about what this is before. I’ve been able to buy us a little slice of time to ourselves, but I’ve reached the end of my tricks.”

Astra looked into his eyes carefully, noticing the strain there for the first time, “You never said you had to use tricks…”

“I didn’t want you to have to worry about it. I wanted to be… uncomplicated. Simple. After everything you’ve been through, I thought that you needed simplicity.”

“I did.” she admitted, chest suddenly aching at the thought that the simple times might be gone.

He brushed an errant curl behind her ear and smiled bracingly, “I am not here to tell you that the world is ending. Merely that people have found us out. They’re asking questions that I do not have the answers to, and in lieu of my answers, they are coming to their own conclusions. Grandmother amongst the rest.”

“She wants to meet me because she knows we’ve been dating?”

Andrew huffed a breath, “It’s her way of forcing the matter at hand. When it comes to me, to dating the English Heir, there is dating and there is Dating. Courting. Something official, not just between you and I, but between us and all of England.”

Astra looked a little creeped out at the thought, “They… want in on our dates?”

Andrew rubbed his brow, “In a manner of speaking… there comes a point when I’m meant to introduce anyone I am seeing to the people of England as a potential future queen.”

“Why? It’s not like they get to vote on who stays in your bed, or in our case, my bed.”

“No, but it’s…” he seemed so uncomfortable at having to explain this to her. Probably any English girl he dated would have seen this coming a mile away and known what to expect. Astra blushed a little, feeling inadequate for the first time all spring. “It’s a bit like a small Selection, perhaps. They get to know the person their prince is dating and they get to watch me court their future queen.”

“Oh, and your gramma wants you to do that with me?” What a relief to know she was just a confused old woman who’d misunderstood.

“Precisely. Meeting Grandmother at her estate in Scotland would signal the official start to our official courtship.”

Astra felt all the tension leave her body and she smirked at him, “Your gramma is proposing marriage to me on your behalf.”

“Basically.”

“What’s she in such a hurry for? We’re teenagers.”

Andrew let out an exasperated sigh, relieved now that he could see Astra wasn’t panicking and throwing everything she owned into a bag to haul back to Illéa on the first flight out the next morning. “I don’t know. You’re a good match, obviously. My father is close with your uncle, but it would be smart to solidify that alliance with some kind of marriage.”

“Very sexy and romantic.” Astra giggled.

“Isn’t it just?” he agreed wryly. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, “I suppose she’s worried because I’ll be king in a few more years. She doesn’t want me to have to go through that enormous transition of responsibility by myself. I suppose finding a queen would be much harder as king than as prince, too. Father’s even asked me if I want to take a few months next year and devote myself to dating full time before he begins handing off responsibilities to me in earnest. As part of a formal ascension plan.”

“What a conversation.”

“You can’t begin to imagine.”

Astra collapsed into giggles, doing her best to imagine it anyway. King Eoan asking his son if he wanted to be a full-time, 40-hours-per-week dater as part of his obligations to the crown.

“It’s good you think this is funny.” he sulked, but he only partially meant it. He was genuinely glad she was laughing instead of crying.

Fairly certain her toes were dry now, Astra stood and screwed the caps on her polish, stashing the bottles in a drawer next to her vanity. She stretched, fingers reached for the ceiling, going up on her toes, and as she came down she whisked her loose t-shirt over her head.

“Astra.” Andrew cleared his throat, forcing his eyes away from her lacy, pale blue and white bra, “Clear heads, remember?”

“I’m just getting comfortable.” she said in a voice that clearly told him she was not just getting comfortable.

He stood and she came over and loosened his tie for him. He placed a hand over hers when she made for his shirt’s buttons and said, “Do you want this to last past April?”

Astra gulped, “I wish April was forever.”

He stared at her, the only flicker of doubt coming from the small twitch of his eyebrow. “That’s not the same thing.”

“… I know.”

“You don’t have to answer me tonight, but we should talk about it. If we keep going past April, I suspect it will make the most sense for you… for you to meet grandmother.”

This time, when Astra continued with his buttons, it was a genuine effort to help him get comfortable, and not a ploy to see his bare chest. Seeing his bare chest was an undeniable bonus, though. She linked her fingers with his and dragged him towards her bed, and then she flopped down on her back and stared up at the top of her four poster canopy. “So what would happen after I met your grandmother?”

“You’d get some secret service protection.” Andrew laid on his stomach and used his finger to draw doodles on the smooth, soft skin above her navel. His breath felt warm as it puffed against her ribs, but her skin erupted in goosebumps anyway, and he pressed a chaste kiss to them. He knew the effect he had on her, and it only made him want to cherish her more.

“I’d go back to Illéa, though. To Waverly.”

“Yes. We’d coordinate that. It would probably be a less hectic place for you than in England.”

“You think England will be hectic if you announce we’re officially dating?”

Andrew huffed one dry, humorless laugh. “When they find out I’m thinking of making you their princess… sweetheart, it’s going to be a nightmare of a circus.”

“Terrifying clowns?”

“The most terrifying.” he agreed.

Astra sighed, “Then what? How long would we get to date before they’d expect you to decide whether you want to marry me or not?”

“Given the time you’d be spending in Illéa, we could get a year.”

“A year.” Astra liked the sound of that. Sure, she’d dance until her contract was up in Waverly, but then she’d come back and get to do this with Andrew for months and months. His dad might even let him date her full-time. Morning, noon, and night cuddles.

“Yes, and then…”

“And then a fairytale proposal. Would it have to be public?”

“Gosh, no.” Andrew promised. “But it would need to have a good story behind it. Take you somewhere meaningful—“

“Like the club where we first kissed.” Astra teased, running her hands through his hair.

“No, not at all.” he chuckled.

“And would I get to wear one of the crown jewels or something?”

Andrew lifted his head to look at her. “Would you want one?”

Astra laughed. It was all so completely silly. She was an eighteen year old girl! A boy was offering her a crown jewel! She laughed some more.

“Our engagement would be six months, eight at most.” he said. “That’s going to be the hardest time for you. You won’t be royal yet, but you’ll have all the expectations. Of course, you’d have everything you’d need from us. Security, education, an allowance for your clothes.”

“Mmm, clothes.”

“And then—“

“A royal wedding?”

“Yes.”

“And a royal honeymoon?”

“Of course.” he pressed another kiss to her skin, this one not so chaste.

“And then I’m your princess?”

“Until we take our oaths to become king and queen.”

“You really think I could be queen?”

“You think you couldn’t?”

“I know how hard it is on my Aunt Ames. It’s not really the life I saw for myself.”

“It’s different in England, you know. We’re smaller than most Illéan provinces, and we’ve got parliament.”

She couldn’t continue to fantasize about marrying him without understanding what he meant when he said that. “Andy, how does parliament help you?”

“Eh… help is not the word.” Andrew admitted. “It’s more that they take certain responsibilities off the monarch’s plate. Whether they do so in a manner that helps is an entirely different question. But unlike Queen America, who assists on many matters of policy and diplomacy, my mother’s job is almost entirely ceremonial, supporting my father’s efforts.”

“So do you think I could dance if we were married?”

Andrew fell quiet, wracking his brain for a way. “Not once we were engaged… I just can’t imagine that you would have time. And you’d quickly become one of the most famous women in the world… not that you’re anonymous now, just that we’re talking about a whole different stratosphere of public interest… even if we found time for you to dance in the royal ballet, it might not be safe.”

Astra hated that answer, but it made perfect sense to her. Addy had never regularly commuted into the city for any reason. Keeping her safe during recurring, publicly open performances would have been a nightmare, and Astra supposed that would be true for her too.

Astra also knew she wasn’t going to dance forever. She probably had a good ten or twelve years before retirement, and that was only if she avoided any major injuries. In Astra’s experience, injuries and pregnancies were two of the most common reasons dancers retired younger than thirty and they were both to be avoided.

“How long do you think we could put all of this off? I don’t want to stop dancing.”

“I know. I want you to dance! You’re bloody magnificent when you dance.”

“Just when I dance?” she teased suggestively.

“Other times too.” he smirked up at her. He let his face fall gently on her stomach, breathing in the smell of her body wash and then lifting his head again, “I could tell Grandmother we’re not yet ready. You could go to Waverly and come back for visits now and again.”

“Sounds like I’d miss you.”

“I’d miss you too.”

“Sounds better to me, though.”

“I suppose it must. The people mightn’t be fooled, they’ll still expect something is happening between us.”

“They’d be right.”

“But Astra… No matter what, I’ll be King four years from now. There’s no delaying that. ”

“That’s a long time, Andy.”

“I can’t… you must understand, I’d need to know for certain by then.”

“Of course!”

“Ideally… Ideally I would be married by then so that we could share the coronation ceremony.”

“So we could have a wedding earlier that fall? You’d propose that spring? That gives us a few years. That gives me time to dance.”

“But would it be enough?”

“Three years is forever, Andy.” Astra grinned down at him.

“And you’d really consider being my queen?”

“I’d consider a lot of things for blue eyes like yours.”

“They are an important part of the benefits package.” he agreed, placing an arm on either side of her and bringing himself up so that they were eye to eye. “Along with lots of travel to exotic locations. The finest champagne money can buy. Famous designers tripping over themselves to clothe you. A handful of palaces. Lots of diamonds.” he punctuated each of these offers with a deep, heated kiss and by the end Astra was absolutely dizzy and in no state to negotiate her future job benefits.

***

By the end of the week it was not just one photographer waiting outside of the ballet studio anymore, there were dozens. They were aggressive and pushy, yelling her name and constantly demanding she tell them if she was seeing Andrew. Her Illéan security detail was not pleased. The theater that housed the ballet was difficult to secure against so many persistent intruders, and there was serious discussion about whether they could even let her finish the seminar. They also discussed calling King Maxon and asking him for reinforcements, which made Astra’s stomach feel sick. She didn’t want her uncle to have to pay money and spare resources to send across the world to her all because of her love life.

It was a tense day and a half before Andrew was able to come through with security of his own to supplement her detail. It had been a tough thing to organize, given she wasn’t officially his girlfriend, but he’d found a way for her.

If Astra knew anything in those days, it was that he would always find a way for her. That had never been the problem.

There were reporters outside of Astra’s palace now, night and day, and they marked each time Andrew came or went. Instead of lounging together on the balcony overlooking the city, Astra and Andrew had to draw the curtains closed for the sake of their privacy.

“We should just tell them we’re not really dating.” Astra said. “I can’t outright lie to them.” Andrew insisted. “I can’t break trust with my people. I don’t have to confirm we’re together, but I can’t just tell them we’re not.”

“There’s got to be a way… tell them we have no intention of courting right now. That’s not a lie, is it?”

“It’s a bit transparent.” Andrew pointed out.

“Well, I’d love to hear your better idea!”

Andrew sighed into her hair. They were dancing to the music on the television, its glow the only light in her bedroom. “Maybe we break up. And I tell them we broke up.”

“You’re breaking up with me?” Astra suddenly sounded so small and vulnerable, he squeezed her tighter, “No! Not really. Not in that way. It’s just a way we can… buy you some more time before we have to fess up to anything.”

Astra didn’t want to fake-break up with Andrew. She wanted the entire world to leave them to their peace and quiet in their little palace of domestic bliss forever. What was so complicated about that?

Andrew had the idea of staying away one night to try to relieve some of the heat, but all it did was leave Astra pacing the floor alone, listening to the rumble of dozens of people camped out on the street in front of her palace all night.

Astra and Andrew were summoned by Queen Waverly the next day and sat down together on the sofa in her office.

Everything about it was embarrassing. Andy’s mother needed to know how long they had been romantic, how far their romance had gone, how serious they were about their future together, and why Andrew had turned down his grandmother’s invitation.

“Lovey, she wasn’t trying to force your hand.” Waverly told Andrew sympathetically. “What’s happening now out there… it’s going to get worse, the longer we let the media spin itself up into a frenzy.”

Astra said, “I only have a week and a half left, your Majesty—“

“Astra.” Waverly reproached the use of her title. “We’re having this discussion as family. Call me Aunt Waverly… if you’re marrying my son, call me Mum.”

Astra gulped, looking at Andrew, lost.

“We’ve only been together a few months, we don’t know—“ Andrew spoke up, until Waverly nodded and held up her hand to silence him.

“I understand entirely.” She turned her head to the side to study a giant portrait of one of Andy’s female ancestors. “Listen you two, I know that this is a complicated situation. The only thing that will help is being forthright with the people.”

“If Astra meets grandmother, the people will be demanding a proposal by Christmas.”

“Perhaps so.”

“We’re not ready for that.” Andrew was keeping a lid on his princely composure, but Astra could tell he felt hopelessly trapped by his mother and the palace and his people beyond its walls. He was ready to rattle the cages.

Waverly nodded, “Your father and I will do everything we possibly can for you, you know that. We only want your happiness. But things are getting very intense, very fast out there. That’s happening because you’re choosing not to do things the conventional way. You must understand that.”

Very intense, very fast. That was Astra’s whole relationship with Andrew in a nutshell.

“It’s just a week and a half.” Astra reiterated. “Then I’ll be back in Illéa and the press can calm down for a while.”

“The speculation won’t stop until it is addressed by us, and it might even turn ugly.” Waverly warned. “When you stop giving them fresh photograph opportunities every day at your ballet house, when there aren’t rumors flying about sightings of the two of you all over London—“

“Not true, by the way.” Andrew said.

“Some of them could be.” Astra reminded him.

“Only the very old ones. We’ve not been out in a fortnight.”

Astra nodded.

“My point is, in a vacuum of real news, someone will invent rumors to splash on their tabloids. It will be anything and everything. Abuse, affairs, pregnancy out of wedlock, Astra will be a gold digger who broke Andy’s heart one week, the next week Andy will be a womanizing fiend who took advantage of a childhood friend. Relations between England and Illéa will be on the brink—“

“They won’t!” Astra objected.

“Only in the magazines.” Waverly replied. “But we wouldn't want any hostile nations thinking the rumors were true and attempting to take advantage of the supposed rift. You see how this could spiral?”

The room fell to silence for the first time. Astra shivered just a little, “I feel like I’ve been tossed into a tornado.”

“It gets better." Waverly promised. “Once you’re proactive about telling your own story, it gets harder for the media to frenzy over half-credible unattributed rumors.”

Astra buried her face in her hands. She’d thought she’d have years before she had to tell the media a story about her relationship with Andrew. It felt wrong that the people of England were forcing an eighteen year old girl to move so quickly.

“I just need time.” Astra said into her hands.

“Right.” Waverly made up her mind and stood, “In that case, Eoan and I are inviting you to stay here with us for the rest of your visit, Astra. We’ll tell the media that we’re very much looking forward to spending time with you before the end of your trip.”

“No, wait…” Astra looked up, heartbroken that she was losing her private little palace. Would she even get to go back and say goodbye to it?

“This isn’t a punishment, sweetheart.” Waverly sighed and then tugged Astra up to standing, pulling her into a tight hug. “You’re not in trouble. Not one little bit. You’ll have more privacy here, behind our gates and with all of our guards. You’ll have one of our cars to drive you to and from the ballet, and Andy won’t be caught coming and going at all hours of the night because he already lives here… or he did before you came to town.” she said the last part teasingly to her oldest son, who had the temerity to blush at his shamelessness.

Astra felt her eyes sting with tears, “I love that palace… it’s been a good home for me.”

Waverly smiled sweetly, “You’ll be welcome to stay there the next time you come back. If you and Andrew announce an engagement, we’ll fully staff the place for you so that it’s safer. Perhaps you and Andrew could use it as your home for the time between your marriage and his assumption of the crown.”

“Really?” Andrew looked enticed by the offer.

“You’ll need to live somewhere, dear. You couldn’t live with your parents as newlyweds, it would be unbearable.” Waverly teased. “England would never get an heir that way.”

Heirs.

Hearing the queen say that word in this palace, next to the crown prince made it feel very real and very scary. Did Astra want her kids to be heirs? She thought again of Addy and Jamesy… she loved them more than anything in the world, but she couldn’t imagine raising her children for such an incredible responsibility.

Waverly continued softly, “The main thing is, we need to be very delicate here, my loves. When Andrew becomes king, he will become the head of the church. Please understand, I do not mind what you the two of you do or don’t do, so long as you are safe and consenting.”

“Mother.” Andy squirmed.

“But it would put Andrew in a difficult position, becoming head of the church, if he was seen to have a… well a marriage-style relationship with a woman who was not his wife for too long.”

“Yes, heaven forbid I have a healthy, long-term girlfriend.” Andy scowled.

“It’s the vows to God that are the issue at hand, not heaven, and you know it.” Waverly scolded his sass quietly, but efficiently.

“So we break up.” Astra concluded. “We officially break up when I go back to Illéa, and then when it’s time, I come back to England and we publicly reunite… you don’t have any church issues, and I have time to dance.”

Waverly looked between them quietly. “It might be the only option, short of scheduling dinner with your grandmother.”

Andrew looked almost as sad as if the breakup was real. Maybe he was scared it would become real once Astra was out of the whirlwind. She laced her fingers with his and squeezed, “We’ll figure this out.”

He squeezed back twice, gently.

***

That night Astra slept in Andrew’s bedroom for the first time in their entire affair.

“The maids are gonna know.”

“Everyone knows.” he snorted into her hair. “That’s why we’re here and not across town in our own palace.”

“Your parents are in the building.” she complained when his hands began wandering her body.

“Not close enough to hear anything.”

“Still… what if they have to walk by for a glass of water or something?”

“You want me to keep my hands to myself tonight?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, so shall we see who can be quietest?” he brushed his fingers across her ribs and she quietly shrieked a giggle. “You are so bad at this, darling.”

“Oh yeah?” she got her revenge with vicious tickles, exploiting every sensitive spot she’d found on his body the last few months.

***

Living in the English palace was an easy adjustment for Astra. She'd grown up in Illéa Palace which, as the functioning capital building of one of the largest nations in the world, was larger and had a much bigger staff. The English palace was certainly ancient and stately, but Astra had grown up visiting the place, so at least she wasn’t too dazzled to see this for what it was.

There was no more delivery from local restaurants once those palace gates were closed, but the royal chef made sure that Andy and Astra had everything they wanted delivered to one of their rooms each night, so that wasn’t actually too much of a change. Not only that, but the maids were discrete and only came onto their floor when Andrew was at work and Astra was at the ballet for the day, so it was almost like their bedrooms magically tidied themselves up each day.

Really, the biggest change for Astra had been weeks before, when rumors had started flying and she and Andrew had stopped venturing out into London. Andrew still appeared in her doorway just in time for dinner, looking handsome and happy to see her. They still shared good meals and long baths, and a warm bed each night. But now the illusion that time didn't exist and that they could continue peacefully, blissfully existing in their little bubble forever was burst.

Since the royal palace hadn't released a statement about the gorgeous young foreign princess living in the same palace as their handsome young future king, salacious headlines were beginning to trickle from tabloids to increasingly reputable news sources. Astra and Andrew's private affair wasn’t so private anymore.

Some part of Astra had been hoping that the rumors would die down once she and Andrew had retreated into the palace, even though she knew better. But on her second-to-final rehearsal before her big seminar performance, photographers started camping out overnight at the stage door to the ballet, not just hounding Astra but harassing her fellow dancers, too. It was humiliating to think that these world-class performers, some of whom Astra had idolized for years, were getting manhandled on their way to and from work every day because of Astra’s love life. She wasn’t sure her reputation in the industry would ever recover from this. Who would want to work with her when her very presence could cause such a disruption?

She cried in the backseat of the car on her way back to the royal palace that day, but she had big sunglasses on, and at least no photographers caught her moment of weakness.

“I don’t want to be the girl who’s dating the future king. I want to be a damn good dancer.” Astra said that night, her cheek pressed to Andrew’s chest as he drew swirling designs on her bare back with his fingers.

“You are both.”

“You don’t understand… you literally can’t.”

“What?” Andrew wasn’t insulted, which was the great thing about him. He was always humble about his own limitations. “Why can I not understand?”

“Have you ever looked up to someone who was truly excellent at the very thing that you wanted to be truly excellent at?”

“Of course.”

“Who?”

“King Maxon.”

Astra rolled her eyes and lifted her head so he could see her at it. “You met him when you could still count your age on one hand.”

“So?”

“So most people never get to meet their idols, and if they do it’s because they’ve worked extremely hard to become very good at something. There are choreographers and dancers at this seminar that I’ve admired for a decade. And now my presence is turning their workplace, a place I consider to be sacred, into a hostile circus.”

Andrew frowned down at her and said softly, “Did I not promise you terrifying clowns?”

“I don’t want to bring chaos to every stage I cross.” Astra pouted.

Andrew nodded and said, “So we should announce our breakup immediately. I’ll release a statement tomorrow, and ask a friend of mine to appear in public with me tomorrow night… a woman. It won’t cure everything overnight, but it would surely alleviate some of the pressure.”

Astra stared into his eyes, then studied the line of his nose, the cut of his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw. “That’s a lot of trouble to go through just for me.”

“Astra, are you joking? You’re the one going through trouble for me.”

Astra nodded, but she dropped a kiss onto his lips anyway. “Okay, but the breakup is fake.” her lips danced over his.

His teeth gently teased her lower lip as he replied, “Yeah. I noticed.”

***

As warm and inviting as the arms holding her were, Astra had a difficult time staying asleep that night. She was nervous about returning to rehearsals the next morning, nervous about their final performance, now only a couple of days away, nervous about her new relationship with Andrew, and nervous about being nervous about her new relationship with Andrew.

At around four in the morning she slipped out of bed and tiptoed back to her suite, where she found a pitcher of water and a tray of snacks waiting for her. She spent so many hours of her day exercising that sometimes she woke up in the middle of the night ravenously, painfully hungry, so she’d requested that she be left some snacks just in case. She picked at a scone, lost in her anxieties, and her stress about not being able to sleep, until the telephone next to her bed rang so loudly and shrilly that it caused her to jump and splash some of her glass of water onto her night shirt.

“Hello?” Astra picked up the phone, hoping to hear an Illéan voice on the other end of the line. She hadn’t spoken to Addy in a few days, and it had been almost a week since her Aunt Ames or Uncle Maxon had phoned. She hadn’t spoken to her parents in longer than that, but they’d be arriving in London in less that twenty-four hours so that they could watch her final performance, so she wasn’t too desperate to speak to them.

And while the voice on the other line was Illéan, it definitely wasn’t one she had been expecting.

“Hey.”

Astra’s stomach clenched and her body flooded with adrenaline. She reminded herself to behave like a normal person and not like a lunatic when, as casually as she could, she replied, “Kile? Is that you?” like she didn’t know. Like she wouldn’t know his voice anywhere, anytime, under any circumstance. She knew his voice better than she knew her own.

“Sorry, I know it’s the middle of the night over there. …You don’t sound like you were sleeping, though.”

He would know.

Astra gulped hard, “I needed a snack.” It was a lie, but it was close enough to the truth.

“Hm. Is he there then?”

Astra felt defensive anger flare up in her chest, and only later realized that the anger was covering a sense of guilt. “So what if he is? You broke up with me—“

“Astra—“

“No, it’s okay. I’m not saying that in a mean way. I’m stating a fact. We are not together because you broke up with me, so why do you care if he’s here?”

There was a long pause and then a low groan on the other end of the phone. Astra heard a brush of fabric over his microphone, as if he’d been rubbing his face and his sleeve caught on the receiver.

“I want to know if he’s there, because I want to talk to you when you’re alone. It’s why I’m calling so late… or early, I guess.” Kile said.

Astra’s traitor heart beat faster. What did he want to talk to her about when she was alone? Was he going to apologize? Was he going to ask for her back?

It was too late, obviously. Astra had obviously moved on. Obviously. “He’s not here.”

Kile sounded relieved when he said, “Good.” and that annoyed Astra. He had no right to be relieved that she wasn’t in bed with another man. He’d hurt her in a way she’d never known she could hurt before.

She lashed out, “I didn’t want to wake him up with my snacking. But he’ll probably notice I’m gone soon, so you should hurry up and say what you want to say.”

The pained sound that snuck out of his throat with his next exhale was not as satisfying as Astra had hoped it would be. She regretted her words already. Maybe now he wouldn’t ask for her back… not that she wanted him to.

Kile said, “Let me ask you something…”

This was it. He was going to ask for forgiveness. He was going to ask her to come back to Illéa and be with him.

“What do you want more than anything in the world?” Kile said.

What was he expecting her to say? That she wanted him? She was dating the Crown Prince of England!

“Astra?”

“What do you mean, Kile?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? For our whole lives you’ve always wanted one thing more than anything in the world. What is it?”

Oh. Astra replied almost mechanically, her voice barely above a mumble, “I want to be the Prima Ballerina for the Angeles Ballet for at least a season, maybe two.”

“And you wanted that enough that you didn’t even think about moving closer to my university, because it would have taken you away from the Angeles ballet. And not for a good reason, like that invitation you got to dance in Waverly. For no reason. For me.”

“You’re not no reason—“

“No, I’m just not a good enough reason.”

“Kile—“

“You can’t argue with that.”

“You said you wouldn’t promise to look for apprenticeships and internships in the cities where I was dancing. You said you don’t want to live in Angeles when you grow up!”

“I don’t. I’m going to go where I can do my best work.” he said plainly. “I still think you and I made a good choice to split up.”

Hearing him say that was hard. She wanted him to regret it. She wanted him to miss her like she had missed him before Andrew had swept her off her feet. Losing him had changed her and she would never be the same as she was before, and he wasn’t even sorry.

Kile continued, “I’m just saying… what was the point of drawing a line in the sand about you and me if you were just going to walk all over it for Andy?”

“What?”

“We both know that you’ll never be prima anything if you marry Andy. You told me yourself, every waking hour of a prima’s life is devoted to dancing or preparing to dance. There are no hobbies, no vacations, no date nights. There definitely isn't time to be somebody’s princess.”

“I’m already an Illéan Prin—“

“Cut the shit, Astra, you know what I mean.” Kile sounded exasperated, and she knew why. She was trying to miss his point, but he wasn’t exactly being subtle about it so dodging it was proving impossible.

“Maybe I want something else now. Maybe I want to marry Andrew.”

“Look… Andy’s not a bad guy—“ Kile admitted through gritted teeth, “But there will be plenty of not bad guys waiting for you after you retire. So if you pick him, do it because you want the life he’ll give you more than the life you can earn for yourself. And be ready to bury your dreams of being a prima ballerina forever, if you do. I know you, and I know you’re getting swept up in this—“

“Don’t talk about me like I’m some helpless little… little damsel, Kile.” Astra snapped.

“Think about it logistically. Do you want to move to the other side of the world from your parents and your little brothers? They’ll visit you as often as they can, but your visits to Illéa will always be to the Palace, to King Maxon and Addy. You won’t be able to go home again. Do you want to have to keep a royal schedule, planned months and years in advance? And you can forget being around from Addy once she becomes queen, you’ll be trapped on the far side of an ocean.”

“Kile—“ Astra tried to interrupt him because she wanted him to stop making sense.

“What about the little things? What about the weather? You’re an Angeles girl, are you going to miss the sun? You know they use different numbers for temperature over there, right? How’s it going to feel to wake up in the morning and have some maid tell you that it’s twenty-five degrees outside, so you’d better stay in the shade to keep cool?”

“Kile.” Astra laughed.

“I’m serious. You’re not just choosing a career here, Astra, you’re choosing a life: from the moment you wake up to the moment you fall asleep.” Kile paused and let out a tired sigh. “I just don’t want you to make a big mistake that you can’t undo. I know how badly you want to dance. You’re not ready for this, and even if you were, this wouldn’t be the right choice for you.”

“I’ve changed, Kile.” she wanted to add that he’d changed her. That losing him had made her someone new, someone she didn’t even know yet, but she kept that part to herself. Listening to his voice for so long that night… suddenly she found that she didn’t want to hurt him anymore.

“It’s barely been three months, Astra. You haven’t changed that much.” he promised.

Astra wasn’t sure. Sometimes change was gradual, sure, but sometimes change was all at once. Traumatic change was a sudden shattering of what came before, such that one could never go back again. That was what losing Kile had been like.

But did that mean she wanted to give up dancing and become Andrew’s princess? His queen? His wife and the mother of his heirs? Did she want to leave Illéa forever and eventually move into this palace?

She wanted all of that when she was wrapped up in Andrew’s arms.

But here, alone in the middle of the night when she had her wits about her…

She climbed back into bed and woke Andrew up with steady, gentle kisses. Everything about the love they made that morning was slow and desperate, and even though she hadn’t meant it to, in the end it felt like goodbye.

***

Astra was gone to her final rehearsals before dawn, but later that morning Andrew was true to his word and made a big announcement that he and Astra had both been secretly dating, and were now publicly broken up. He made a good show of wandering around London looking sad that day, and that night he went out to dinner with a fashion model friend, who did not mind the publicity one little bit.

There were still plenty of photographers salivating at the chance to photograph Astra looking dismal at having lost the chance to become an English princess, but at least they were leaving the rest of the dancers, and everyone else associated with the ballet, in peace.

Astra’s parents arrived at the royal palace in time for dinner that night, and Astra had a lot of explaining to do to them. King Eoan and Queen Waverly seemed to find Astra’s discomfort at explaining her affair with Andrew to her parents over roasted asparagus incredibly amusing, and possibly reminiscent of the beginning of their own relationship. It wasn’t fair, though. Andrew missed all the “fun”, making sure it looked like he was rebounding with that gorgeous model.

That night, Astra was too nervous about her impending final performance to wait up for Andrew to get back to the Palace. She could go to bed early or never at all. She drank some tea laced with a little bit of melatonin and fell asleep soon after dinner.

She woke up in Andrew’s arms, her cheek pressed to the side of his bare chest. She listened to him breathe deeply and evenly for a little while and tried one last time.

She could quit dancing.

She could leave Illéa forever.

She could raise her children to be heirs.

Her children could raise their children to be heirs.

When she died, her bones could be interred in a big old church.

Her whole life could be that easy.

God, it would be so easy.

“Andy?” she whispered.

He didn’t stir.

“Andrew?” she tried again, this time pulling away from him and sitting up in bed.

He didn’t hear her, but he reacted to the loss of her warmth, and eventually his heavy eyelids fluttered open. “Astra?”

“What time did you get in last night?”

“This morning.” He admitted, yawning widely. “I expect the tabloids will be plastered with headlines about their debaucherous future king today.”

“Was it any fun?”

“Yeah. Ellie’s great; she’s always happy to be photographed on my arm. Missed you, though.” he added, as if suddenly awake enough to worry that she was jealous.

She wasn’t the slightest bit jealous. Well, the slightest bit, but not for the reasons he would assume. Astra was jealous because Ellie could keep being photographed on Andrew’s arm for as long as she pleased, with no consequences.

“Maybe you should marry Ellie.” Astra suggested.

Andrew laughed, and it turned into a yawn. Then he explained, “Ellie’s too focused on her career right now. And anyway, she’d be far more interested in you.”

“Now that would be a tabloid headline.” Astra joked weakly.

“What’s the matter? Are you nervous for your performance? Is it because you’re leaving England this time tomorrow? Is it because you told your parents what’s been happening between us—“

“I’m not nervous.” Astra said, even though her stomach was in knots. Those weren’t nerves. That was grief. “Andy… I want to be a ballet dancer.”

Andrew sat up in bed now and rubbed the sleep from his eyes so he could focus on her. The words were familiar, but her tone was alarming. “Of course you do. You are a ballet dancer, and you’re bloody brilliant.”

“I want to be a prima ballerina.”

“Okay.”

“That sort of excellence takes years to achieve.”

“Good job you’ve been dancing since you were four years old, then.”

“Shh.” she pressed a finger to his lips so that he would stop talking back and listen to her. He complied. “I won’t be ready to be a prima for seven or eight years. I have a lot to learn. And when I’m ready, I want to be a Prima Ballerina for at least one season, maybe two. That’s every waking hour devoted to dance for two years straight. Then I want to live in Angeles and stay close to Addy in the first few years of her reign. I want to be there when she gets married and has babies, because she is great at putting on a brave face and absolutely terrible at processing the emotions that are scaring her into needing to be brave. She’s going to need me, and I’m excited to be there for her. I can’t live on a different continent than my dad. There can’t such a huge time difference between me and my mom. I can’t be a foreign queen. I don’t want to be foreign at all. Andrew… I can’t marry you.” Her cheeks were wet and her voice cracked, but she didn’t know when, in that little breathless tirade, she’d started crying.

Andrew stared blankly ahead, hugging his knees to his chest around their blanket. He didn’t look surprised. He’d known she was too good to be true all along. Finding his queen could never have been so easy, so perfect. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.

“Andy, none of those reasons I gave have anything to do with you. I love you. You’re a good man, and a great partner, and you have no business being such a talented kisser when you’re so handsome. It’s overkill.” she waited for him to smile. She waited for him to do anything. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Andrew. I just can’t marry you. I’m eighteen years old, I just got control of my life. I’m not ready to sign it over to a monarchy. I would love to be your wife, Andy, but I would hate to be your queen.”

Andrew blinked hard, then looked over at her. His voice was too casual, his words were too easy when he said, “I understand entirely. I can wait.”

Astra furrowed her brow, trying to hold his far off gaze. “Wait? What do you mean, wait?”

“You want to be a prima ballerina, and you said it would take you nine or ten years to accomplish your goal. Fine. I will wait, and when you’re ready I’ll ask to marry you.”

“No, Andy—“

“I don’t mind ruling on my own for a while.”

“That’s more than a while! You’ll be king in four years—“

“It isn’t a problem.” he insisted.

“Did you hear the part about what I want to do after I retire? About living in Illéa, about staying close to my family?”

“Astra, once we’re married, you can do whatever you like.”

“But queens have responsibilities.”

“We can redefine the role to mean whatever you’d like it to mean. I don’t care. I love you, Astra, and you’re the best future queen I could ever hope for.”

Astra paused, blinking hard against the tears in her eyes. It hurt to hear him say that. It hurt to realize that he didn’t believe he deserved any better. “Andy, that’s not true. You deserve a wife who will stay by your side. You deserve a wife who adores you and would be willing to sacrifice her own ambitions to serve England. I’m not good enough to be your queen.”

“Then no one ever will be.”

“Andrew—“

“Let me wait for you, Astra, please.” His voice broke on that last work, his eyes finally meeting hers and betraying his anguish. “Let me hope. It’s all that I have left.”

Astra couldn’t figure out what would be crueler, to let him hope when she’d made up her mind, or to take that hopeless hope away from him.

So she wrapped him up in her arms and they laid down. She combed her fingers through his hair and he brushed his thumb against her ribs until her alarm clock rang and her last day in London began.

***

In retrospect, Astra should have chosen a happy, upbeat, peppy song for her exhibition. She could have flounced all over the stage and spun a ridiculous number of times on her toes, and allowed her partner to toss her all over the place with an enormous smile on her face.

Instead, she’d chosen an exhibition from a ballet about a woman mourning her dead lover, dancing with his ghost. She’d been thinking of Kile when she’d chosen it, hoping it would help her work out her feelings about their doomed childhood romance. Now she was about to take the stage of the royal ballet, with Andrew and his parents in the royal box, watching her close enough that she could see the pained look on Andrew’s face as clear as anything.

Astra and her dance partner, Geoffrey, took their place while the stage was lit in nothing but the darkest of blue lights. He laid down across on their only set piece, an enormous fake rock, and Astra settled over him in a dramatic pose of despair, arm flung over her forehead.

The first part of the dance was hers alone. Her grief, her agony, her desperation. None of it was fake. When Geoffrey arose, as a ghost, and began dancing with her, the bittersweet mixture of joy and sorrow was easy to tap into. Nothing brought her more joy than dancing, and nothing brought her more sorrow in that moment than Andrew watching her live the life she’d chosen over him.

When Geoffrey faded back into the fog upstage and left Astra alone again in the center of the stage, all the passion and desperation fled with him. The rest of the dance was small and slow, painfully precise movements timed with the orchestra just so that if she made the slightest misstep, it would be immediately, embarrassingly obvious.

But Astra did not have to fake the exhaustion and resignation her character was feeling. If she allowed herself to second guess her decision to break away from Andrew now, she’d second guess it forever. The roar of the audience as the last tremulous notes from the string section died away seemed to make a deafening contrast.

Astra was surprised to find tears had started pouring down her cheeks somewhere during that performance. Geoffrey returned and took her hand, and they bowed. As was customary for this exhibition, several members of the audience threw flowers onto the stage. From the third row, Astra’s dad threw a whole bouquet, and a little teddy bear. Astra laughed as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. Then she turned to the royal box to curtsey, perfectly observing royal protocol, and was startled to find that Andrew had been crying, too.

He tossed her a single white rose with a beautiful red satin ribbon tied around the stem, but the look on his face was resignation. He could love her with all of his heart for all of his life and still never be able to give her the kind of affirmation she got from a packed theater full of an adoring audience. He’d seen her dance dozens of times in her room at her little palace, and hell, he’d even danced with her himself. But seeing her like this in front of them…

He could wait until the oceans ran dry and the mountains fell flat, and every single star in the sky flickered into darkness… Astra was never coming back to him.

Astra spent that night with her parents, letting them gush over her and spoil her with presents, and help her pack up the life she’d made in London for the last few months. She hoped Andrew would come and say goodbye once her parents went back to the suite they were staying in, but he never appeared, and Astra didn’t chase him down because she thought he deserved to set the terms. That dance had been her goodbye to him. It was up to him whether he wanted to say goodbye in return.

The next morning, Queen Waverly was the only one in the entrance hall waiting to see the Orders family off as they left. The English Royal jet would take them as far as Carolina, where they would visit James’ family for a little while.

Astra imagined Andrew’s private car speeding out onto the tarmac to stop them. She imagined him dashing from the backseat and waving his arms to alert the pilots that they couldn’t leave until he’d said his farewells.

He didn’t come. It was easier this way.

Kenna and James stayed with Astra’s grandparents for a few days, but James had to go back to work and Kenna needed to get back to the Palace. Aunt Ames had five children, two of them under the age of six, and though they had plenty of help in that Palace, Kenna was their primary nanny, their aunt, and she missed them like crazy.

Astra stayed with her grandparents for a couple of weeks, until her contract at the Waverly Ballet began. The media frenzy around her got much better in that time, though it was impossible not to notice that things were staying hectic around Andrew as the English tabloids seemed to catch on to how severely he’d had his heart broken.

Astra wished she could take some of that public shame away.

She wished she could take some of his pain away, even as she was mending her own broken heart. Her weeks in Carolina were good for that purpose. Her grandparents spoiled her rotten, and she gave her body a much-needed break from dancing. Instead, she spent her days learning needlepoint from her grandmother, and her nights stargazing out by the pond where her parents used to sneak off on dates before Gramma Magda gave up trying to convince Kenna to marry someone from a higher caste.

When Astra packed her bags to take the short flight up to Waverly to begin yet another new life with another new ballet company, she was still wearing the beautiful red ribbon that Andrew gave her as a parting gift on that rose, tied around her wrist.

And when, years later, she sat on her sofa and watched him become King of England in front of the entire world, her fingers traced that now slightly frayed red ribbon, Andy’s last gift to her, in a familiar, much-practiced gesture.

It would have been so easy to say yes, to give in to the pressure and let herself get swept away by the English people, the royal traditions, the prince’s staggering blue eyes. It would have been a good life, too. A perfectly fine marriage.

But Astra didn’t want to be queen, and now she wouldn’t have to be, and the freedom she felt watching Andrew bear the weight of that crown was all the reminder she needed: she made the right decision. And now, despite the dull ache of longing in her chest for he boy she’d loved and left behind, she was happy. Truly happy. She was at peace with her past, content in her present, and excited for her future.

When the coronation coverage ended, Astra got ready to return to bed. She was surprised when her phone rang, but she knew exactly who it would be.

“Mom?” she said, before the person on the other line could say a word. Her little cousins would have had just enough time to be tucked back into bed by now, if Aunt May was helping. Kenna would have rushed to the phone as soon as she got the chance.

“Sweetie? How are you, little bug?”

“I’m fine, Mom, I don’t need the pet names.” Astra grinned, rolling her eyes.

“Are you sure?” Kenna double-checked.

“Yeah. I wish Andrew wasn’t alone up there. I still love him, I don’t want him to suffer. But I was nothing but relieved when they put that crown on his head and I didn’t have to put one on mine. I made the right choice.”

“I know you did, honey, but just because you did the right thing doesn’t mean you have to feel perfectly fine about it. Especially not on a night like this.”

“Honestly, Mom… my time in London feels like another life. One I’m nothing but grateful for, but not one I want to relive.”

At first, Astra’s spring with Andrew felt like it had never really happened, or like it had happened to someone else, or like it was all a fever dream: too hot, too heady, a surreal hallucination more than a fairytale fantasy. But now, with some time and space, Astra could see it for what it really was: a romantic affair with someone she could have chosen to marry, but who ultimately was not the right fit for her. On the one hand, Astra and Andrew loved each other, and their marriage would have been fine: they’d known each other forever and they each fully understood the challenges of the royal life they would have been embarking on together.

On the other hand, Astra had known what she wanted out of life since she was a very small girl. It was a hard thing to ask an eighteen year old to walk away from a guaranteed royal wedding for a chance to work very hard to one day, possibly, make her dream come true. If Astra hadn’t grown up in Illéa Palace, she might not have made the same choice. But everything she got out of her life from now on was truly hers, she was the captain of her own fate, and even if she failed and never became a prima ballerina, at least this way she’d have had the chance.

“But Mom?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t ever tell Gramma Magda that Andrew proposed to me and I turned him down. I think she would disown me.”

[spookyboywhump]

Hee hoo follow up to This

Not whumpy, just the aftermath of a rescue

CW: Past pet whump, dehumanization, mute whumpee, mentions of branding

***

Elias was nervous about his next case, however, there hadn’t been one so far that didn’t make him nervous. This one, this man had been found in terrible shape, chained up in a pitch black room, shaking and shivering. He was pale and thin, looking as though he hadn’t eaten in some time. He knew he’d been thoroughly examined and given time to rest first, thankfully he’d really just needed some food and water in his system, but now, it was time to actually speak to him and Eli could only hope this would go well.

He’d already talked to one of the people involved in rescuing the man, a person named Lane Thompson. They’d said that he refused to speak to anyone, he seemed scared and distant, which was to be expected of course. So far though, Eli had made good progress with the more reserved ones, Lane even asked him specifically to talk to the man because of that.

He sat across from him now, the man refused to look at him, keeping his dull blue eyes on the table. His auburn hair was messy and unkempt, long enough to fall into his pale freckled face, though he didn’t seem to care to brush it back. He hadn’t said a word, he’d barely even looked at him, but Elias knew he had to at least try to get somewhere with him.

“You… you don’t have to worry about your owner.” He said gently. He knew he wasn’t supposed to refer to them that way, but he also knew it was easier on the victims to use the language they understood- especially one as broken down as this man was. “He can’t hurt you anymore, and I, I want to help you. I know it’s hard but, if you could tell me anything about how you ended up there, or what he did to you, or if there were others, that would be incredibly helpful.”

The man simply shook his head, continuing to stare down at the table. He didn’t even necessarily look scared anymore, he just looked exhausted, defeated even, and it pulled at his heart to see it.

“Can you at least tell me your name…?” He asked. “If- If you can remember your real name that would be great, but, anything I can call you would work…” He said, but once again the man shook his head. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to speak, then thought better of it. He tilted his head up finally, looking Elias in the eye as he gestured to his throat, to a scar resting just above the worn out black collar he wore. He slowly, shakily drew a line across his throat with his finger, and his heart sank as it dawned on him, a threat he’d heard time and time again ringing in the back of his mind. “You… You can’t speak, can you…?” He asked, and the man shook his head.

He almost felt nauseous, but he forced himself to bury that feeling, to focus on the task at hand. He already had a notepad and a pen with him, the latter of which he hesitantly picked up.

“Can you write…?” He asked him, and the man seemed to think about it before nodding, accepting the pen as Eli slid the notepad across the table to him. “Just… write down whatever you can tell me, anything will be fine.” He said, and he nodded in response. He started writing, slow and carefully, like somebody still learning how to write. Elias glanced away while he did so, not wanting to make him feel pressured or anything, his leg bouncing anxiously though.

After some time the man slid the notepad back to him, and Elias took his time to read over the shaky handwriting.

My owner called me mutt. I was given to him when I was 27. I don’t know my age now. First master called me Doll. I don’t remember before that. I can’t speak. I can’t fight. I’m not pretty anymore. I won’t sell for much.

His eyes widened at the last sentence and he quickly glanced up at him, somehow able to stay calm though.

“No, we, we aren’t going to sell you.” He said. “You’re free now, we’re going to help you, okay? We want to get you home, and we want to make sure the people who hurt you can’t do this again to anyone else.” He explained gently, and the man narrowed his eyes, almost suspiciously. Elias saw him glance at the notepad again and he quickly slid it back over to him, watching as he began writing on a new page. It didn’t take long for him to hand it back, that odd look still on his face.

You won’t catch them. They’ll get out of it, they always do. He won’t want me back but his new dog he will. That boy isn’t safe.

“The boy… you mean the other young man that was found there?” He asked. “Do you know his name?” He knew Lane had already spoken with that boy, they were more likely to have gotten answers out of him than Eli would out of this one though- he hated his only options were to calm him “mutt” or “doll”, he sincerely wished he knew his real name.

Owner called him Elle. He said it wasn’t his real name but I don’t know what is. Elias nodded slowly as he read it over, taking a few moments to think about what he should do next. He wanted to ask about their “owner”, he hadn’t been told a lot about him but it was usually difficult to get clear answers out of the victims. After some time, he got to his feet.

“I’ll be right back, I need to talk to someone real quick. If there’s anything you want to tell me just write it down, okay?” He said, and the man nodded, seeming to think about it while he held the pen in hand. Elias left the room, taking a deep breath once he closed the door behind him, before setting off to find Lane.

He didn’t know them particularly well, he didn’t involve himself in the actual rescues just yet, but he knew who they were and the few short interactions they had were pleasant enough he wasn’t too scared to talk to them. After asking around a bit, he found them outside, on a break in the middle of the long day, sitting on a bench and smoking a cigarette. Eli tried to ignore the smell as he approached them.

“Um, Lane, can I talk to you…?” He asked hesitantly. “It’s about that one man you found, the silent one?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” They moved over slightly and Eli sat down next to them, anxiously picking at his fingers. “Has he finally said anything?”

“No, he can’t. He showed me the scar across his throat.” He explained, not even looking up to see their reaction. “He can write though, he seemed worried about the other boy you guys found.”

“Yeah, that kid ain’t doing too great.” They sighed. “He isn’t injured or anything, he just, he wants to go back.” It wasn’t the first time one of the rescues were found that way, it didn’t surprise Eli but it was still odd to think about. “He’s talked up a storm about the guy who had them though, I don’t think he even realizes how much he’s helping.” They laughed softly.

“Has he mentioned any previous owners?” He asked. “This one said he was given to this owner at twenty-seven, but he doesn’t know his age anymore so I’m not sure how old he is now. He doesn’t remember his own name so I’m not sure how well he’ll remember a previous owner…”

“You should try asking anyway. Even if they don’t have a name sometimes they can describe them, might help you figure out something. We’ve been getting enough from the other boy, you should focus on figuring that out, find out the previous owner and maybe you can find out how he got there to begin with.” They said. Eli nodded slowly, they sounded sure of themself and he knew they’d been doing this a bit longer than him anyway.

“Alright, That makes sense… I’ll try that, thank you.” He said, getting to his feet and starting to head back inside, but Lane stopped them after only a few feet.

“Hey, Elias?” They said, and he turned to face them. “If you think you can get away with it, ask him about a brand. Those sick fucks are always branding the poor things.” They said, and Eli had to repress a shiver.

***

The man didn’t look up when Elias entered the room again, he was absentmindedly doodling on the paper. He came and sat down across from him again, thinking over what he wanted to say carefully.

“So… you said that you were given to your owner when you were twenty-seven, right…?” He asked, and he nodded. “Do you remember who did that? Your first owner, do you remember anything about them?” He asked. “If you can, can you describe the way they looked too?” The man seemed to think about it for a moment, before he started writing. This time he wrote for a bit longer, at some points he even seemed to start smiling, something that made Eli nervous, but eventually, he handed the notepad back to Elias.

My master was kinder. He named me Doll, he loved me and I love him. If you can take me back to him I would like that but I don’t think he wants me anymore. He gave me away. He was very handsome, he was tall and he had dark hair and grey eyes. I haven’t seen him in a long time. He lived in a big house and he had a scary dog (not me, a real dog) and he always wore black leather gloves. Please, if you can find him, ask him to take me back.

Elias took his time reading it over, deciding not to tell him he wasn’t going back to an owner again. He had a sick feeling in his stomach, a horrible sense of familiarity, but he forced himself to ignore it.

“Okay… I’m- I’m sorry if this is invasive, you don’t have to answer at all if you don’t want to but did he… did he ever brand you?” He asked slowly, and much to his surprise the man nodded without hesitation. He got to his feet, still shaking noticeably, and gripped the hem of his shirt, pulling it up just enough that Eli could see the F burned into his hip, just above the waistband of the sweatpants he’d been given to replace the ragged clothing he’d been found in. In a way, it was more than enough confirmation for Elias, but he almost hoped it wasn’t true. It was selfish, if it was someone else that would take a longer time to figure out, a longer time to know who was responsible for this, but still, he couldn’t help it.

“Alright, thank you…” He said, and the man sat back down. Elias thought about it before getting his phone out, deciding to give this a shot. It was easy to find a picture of the man, he was well known enough outside of the pet world. He felt sick just looking at him, but he chose to ignore it. “This… this might be a stretch but that description… is that this man…?” He asked, holding out the phone to him so he could see the image of Nicholas Fairfax, and his stomach dropped when the man grinned and nodded.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Elias remembered something Nicholas had said to him before.

You remind me of my last pet.

[honeyheartsandkisses]

Let me Love you

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: None:) Maybe a little heavy kissing

Word count:1.6k

One shot!

You absentmindedly doodle small stars on the corner of your parchment, losing concentration of the lesson. Professor Trelawney had a way of putting you off. Maybe it was the huge googly glasses she wore, or the disheveled messy hair. Whatever it was, you couldn't ever take her seriously. You almost forget you're sitting at a round table with Blaise and of course, the Slytherin Prince, when suddenly, Draco taps your arm with the end of his quill.

“Hm?” you hummed in response, looking up from your parchment. With his silver hair and mischievous grin, Draco lifts the edge of his own parchment for you to take a look. You see three small hearts doodled at the edge of his parchment, making you roll your eyes with a small smile. He always did these things, trying to win you over. You thought that after a year of chasing you, he would’ve given up by now. 

“Everything alright back there Miss y/l/n?” Professor Trelawney inquires, peering suspiciously through her massive glasses. 

“Yes professor. Just fine.” you quickly say, trying not to laugh.

As soon as class was dismissed, the three of you gather your things and descend down the ladder to exit the classroom. “Did you have to do that earlier? You almost earned me detention!” you complain, walking towards the great hall for dinner. 

Blaise laughs, putting and arm around you. “Oh come on, it wasn't that bad. Draco’s just shooting his shot.”

“Blaise.” Draco says, his voice low and threatening. It makes you and Blaise stop walking, turning to look at him. “Arm.” 

With that one word, Blaise quickly moves away from you, holding his hands up as though surrendering. “Sorry It was an accident.” 

You laugh, starting to walk again. “You know you can't do that Malfoy. I don't belong to you.” Draco shrugs, taking your textbook from your arms to carry it for you. “Perhaps. But he listens to me. And I don't like it when he touches you.”

Your heart did a little backflip, but you did your best to conceal it. “Whatever Malfoy.”

After dinner, the three of you head outside to the black lake, sitting under a tree. Here in the warm summer breeze, you felt relief. “You know what this reminds me of?” you say, turning to your side to look at Draco and Blaise. “That day last summer when we went to Draco’s house for a swim.”

Blaise nods. “You mean the first time Draco tried to kiss you and you slapped him- OW!”

Draco had knocked him hard on the head. 

“Hey! For merlin’s sake I've apologised for that a million times!” you laugh.

Draco positions himself nearer to you, making you peer up at him cautiously. “So you have. But what's going to heal me in here?” He takes your hand and places it on his chest. 

“Such a drama queen.” You smile, pushing him away. 

“I think I'm permanently concussed.” Blaise groans, still rubbing the spot on his forehead where Draco hit him. 

You stand up going to him. “Let me see. Is it bad?” 

Blaise pushes his hair out of the way and you see a dark bruise forming on his forehead. “Gosh it doesn't look good. But it’s nothing Madame Pomfrey can't fix. I’ll walk you there.”

“No no it's alright. I’ll get to the hospital wing just fine. You two lovebirds stay. It shouldn't take long.”

You try to protest but he insists you and Draco stay here. Eventually you give up and slump down at the foot of the tree, watching Blaise head off back to the castle.

“You just had to injure him did ya?” you say to Draco.

He simply shrugs. “Wasn't intentional.” 

You shake your head, looking up at him. “Well, it still wasn't nice of you to do that. You need to apologise.”

“Fine. If you want me to, I will when he gets back.”

“Wow that was easier than I thought.” You smile, gathering all your hair to one side, resting over your left shoulder.

“Of course.” he simply says. This earns him a curious look from you. “I'd do anything you tell me to.” 

A shiver went down your spine. This handsome, perfect, smart boy was head over heels for you and you loved him too. But you couldn't let yourself do anything. His pale blue eyes peered down at you, almost staring into your soul, searching for a sign. Anything at all. The sun is now beginning to set, the golden glow illuminating his pale skin. He almost looked angelic. Your eyes travel down his face, landing on his lips. His lips. You've always wondered how it would feel like to kiss him. He must've noticed it because he slowly leans forward, bringing his face closer to yours. You didn't want to move. You wanted to let it happen. For him to kiss you until everything no longer made sense. But at the last second, you quickly turn away.

“Umm lets go for a swim! It’s so warm today.” You quickly say, standing up to remove your uniform. 

“Wait y/n-”

You quickly kick off your shoes and run off, leaping into the water with a big splash. The icy water was a relief, cooling down your red and heated face. That was a close call.

Seconds later, Draco jumped in, causing a huge splash. “There you are!” you exclaimed cheerfully, hoping to ignore the moment from minutes ago. “Doesn't the water feel nice?”

He swims toward you, and you playfully splash him with water. 

“Y/n.” he grabs your hands, pulling you close to him. He holds you tight by the waist, leaving you no escape as your arms go around his neck for stability. 

“Yes what is it?” you smile, praying to Merlin you didn't look nervous. 

He stares deep into your eyes, making you feel unusually self conscious. “You love me... don't you?” 

“Hun, if i did have feelings for you don't you think I would've said something over the past year?” You laugh, looking away. You couldn't lie under his gaze.

He shakes his head. “You're lying.” 

“What makes you think so?”

“Firstly, I saw the way you looked at me. I felt it. And secondly, when you're lying, you can never maintain eye contact.”

“Okay Malfoy, that's insane.” 

“Then look at me and tell me you don't love me.”

You take a deep breath, finally looking at him again. “I don't love you.” you mumble, quickly looking down at the water. 

“Not like that y/l/n. Do it properly. Look into my eyes.”

You look into his eyes this time. The glowing sunset, his wet skin, his drenched hair, you loved everything about him. You couldn't deny it. 

Letting out a sigh, you push a lock of hair away from his face. His eyes once again searching yours for a clue. Anything that gave it away. 

“I love you.” you finally admit. “I love you so much it scares me. When you're not around, I can't breathe. When you're around I just want to kiss you. I-”

He cuts you off, smashing his lips with yours. The kiss is heated and needy. All the pent up sexual tension pouring into this kiss. The water no longer felt cold. All you could feel... was him. Your hands travel from his shoulders up into his silvery blonde hair, earning a soft moan from him. His right hand cupped your cheek while his left held you firm against him around your waist. Your legs wrapped around his torso, a hot needy impulse growing in your lower belly. 

“Wait wait...” you pull away, gasping for air with one hand on his chest. 

Still panting, he looks at you full of concern “Im sorry I didn't mean to-”

“No don't apologise. I loved every second of it.” You manage to say between breaths. 

He loosens his grip, and the two of you swim to the edge of the lake, sitting on the river bank. It took a few more seconds to fully process what happened in the past minute. Everything happened so fast, you couldn't keep up.

“I love you y/n.” Draco suddenly says, taking your hand in his. “You know I love you. Why have you been holding back?”

You look up at him, seeing so much pain and worry behind those blue irises. You owed him an explanation. 

“Remember when Goyle and I were together? He made me feel like I was the most important person in the world. But a month went by and he cheated on me with Pansy.”

He nods. “I’m aware.” You could see a flash of anger in his eyes. “Thats why I took care of it.”

You smile, squeezing his hand. “No Draco, you bullied him so much he transferred out of Hogwarts.”

He kisses the back of your hand. “Yes. I took care of it.” he smiles, a beautiful but rare sight.

“Well, I guess i got scared after that. Someone can make me feel so special and loved, and change their mind in an instant. Either that, or some other girl could always come along and replace me.”

It was silent for a short while before he let out a sigh. “I can't believe that useless git left you feeling so small.” 

“It’s not your job to fix me Draco.” You say, giving him a sad smile. “I can't ask you to wait around for me either.”

“No. I’ll fix this. I’ll show you how beautiful and special you are. I’d never let anyone hurt you, and I'll never let you go. From now on, you’ll be mine and I'll never let anyone lay a finger on you.”

“I’ve always been yours...” you whisper. “But what if that doesn't work?”

He lets go of your hand and holds your face between his palms. “It will y/n. Because I love you. And now that I know you love me, there's nothing I can't do. Just... promise me one thing.”

You feel your legs go weak and your breath catch in your throat. “Anything.” 

“Let me love you.”

You smile, nodding lightly. “Will you kiss me again?”

He smirks, lowering his face closer to yours. “I never wanted to stop.” He lays a soft and sweet kiss on your lips. It was gentle, and full of love. For the first time ever, you feel safe. You know that as long as Draco was by your side, nothing else would matter. Because you had him.

“Actually when did you realise you had feelings for me?” He asks peering curiously at you. “The day you tried to kiss me.” You giggle, seeing the frustrated look on his face.  “So you're telling me, we could've been snogging this whole time?”

You nod, pulling him in for a hug. “You’re not mad are you?”

“Of course not, love. But if I ever lay my eyes on Goyle I might just rip his head off.”

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Author’s note:

HI! Thanks for reading my fanfic:) Let me know what you think and just drop a comment if you have any ideas for Harry Potter fanfics:)