#that conversation with starr really just made me forget about everything that frustrated me about the blog & left me with this

[melverie]

Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh today I've been constantly experiencing the urge to un-private today-in-the-devildom & start writing for it again

[windywooshes]

Mike x Reader

Mike Morton. One of the shining stars of the Hullabaloo circus. A man with humour, looks and wits. Popular and loved by everyone. Yet here you were. Uncomfortable by his presence.

Being one of the introverted kind, you sat on your spot of the long dinning table., fidgeting with your fingers as you waited for the food to be served. Lately you have been getting more attention from the acrobat as you'd enjoy. Him being today's 'servant' didn't make it any better as he kept on squirming around you. Asking if 'm'homie' needed more water or a softer chair. You barely spoke to him yet he acted so overly friendly, trying to stir up at least a decent conversation with you. It was admirable of him as he always managed to dig up a new small talk topic once your voice quiet down. But it still raised confusion and suspicion up.

You didn't belong into the 'manors favourites' as one would call the characters which received the most attention from the owner of the manor. They'd be giften skins and accessoires more frequently or be asked to join matches more often than the rest.

By all honesty ? You didn't mind that at all. Being in the spotlight made you feel nauseous, so you rather stay undercover and hang out with the less 'popular' members of the patch up family. It made you feel at ease to have just a tiny group of people whose company you enjoy. With them, you open up your small petals and go into full bloom, just like a flower which receives the right amount of sunshine.

Yet you were here, cowering away in your parka. Pulling up your petals closer to your core in hopes to hide. Nodding politely and thanking the blonde for every little thing.

The man himself just smiled in return, yet his smile always looked about to flatter away with every new word of gratitude from your lips. Something was not satisfying him and you could feel it by the shiver which went down your neck as he left back to the kitchen.

A few minutes later the door busted open with Mike juggling some fruits, accompanied by a chuckling José who was on butler duty as well, along with Fiona who just enjoyed the view while they placed down the silver tablets full of delicacies onto the coated wooden surface.

Once everything found their right spot, the acrobat once again stood next to the kitchen door, announcing the chefs of tonight’s feast.

„A round of applause for our amazing kitchen fairies, William and Helena~“

With that, clapping and whistling from Kevin, painted the air once more in a positive colorful atmosphere.

You were about to grab a bit of salad and the dish which caught your attention from the very first moment on, when you felt a hand on your shoulder along with a warm breath tickling your ear, followed by the gentle voice of the acrobat.

„If you need anything, please don't feel shy to ask your personal butler, Hamfrey~“

Motioning to himself, Mike gave you a quick wink and seated himself to the other side of the table. You really started to sweat a bit as you weren't used to such close contact with anyone besides some of your closest friends which were far away from here, waiting for your return.

Through half of the dinner, you had some small and energetic discussions with Lucky who sat next to you. Emma soon joined you as well as you discussed the very painful after-match marks you would get from getting the spiked wire wrapped around your body. Laughs and groans were streaming from your small circle which swirled in with the other heated discussions.

On the other side of the table, a pair of sparkly gold blue eyes watched. A pout visibly formed on his lips. Eyebrows furrowed. What is it that makes you feel so open with the others, yet the goldy-lock himself, couldn't give you ? For a while now, Mike has felt a bit bothered by your refusal to open up to him. You peaked his interest when you arrived at the manor. He can't put a finger on it though, why exactly you have been the center of his attention. He just knew that he wanted to see more than the reserved team member who shyed away from him all the time.

Dinner was filling and delicious. You thanked everyone for the meal and were about to bring your dishes away as well as the ones from your seat neighbours as you had cleaning duty today. Since your other partners had a match to prepare for and the other survivors refused to do duty outside their assigned dates, you just ended up by yourself in the kitchen.

Very soon the laughter and noises died out so you assumed it would be the best time to wipe the table clean. As you walked out with a napkin in your hand, you were surprised to see Mike himself, still sitting on his chair. Balancing his head on his palm, he gazed outside of the window which was drowned by black, by the night's darkness.

„Mr Morton, you are still here ?“

Mike's gaze turned lazily to the source of the words. You were expecting some kind of tantrum for you using his last name again to address him as he would usually do, yet he kept quiet and hummed.

„Would you...be so kind to raise your elbows for a bit ? I just need a quick swipe-„

Without jokes or further questioning, Mike obliged to the request and leaned back on his chair for you. Seeing him so silent was surprising, if not a bit frightening. You could sense something felt off and that he might need a bit of cheering up time himself. So once you were done gathering crumbs, you turned your attention back to him.

„C-could you...lend me a hand in the kitchen ? Washing the piles of dishes by myself will take a bit long and I could really need a helping hand. If you don't mind...“

The blondes eyebrows arched up at your request, not used of you asking him for his help. He just trailed behind you like a puppy into the four walls of the kitchen. Grabbing a sponge, he started to wipe the plates squeaky clean while you dried them off with a cotton fabric, sorting them into their shelves afterwards.

Silence once again fell upon the both of you, so you tried to start a conversation with him as he used to do with you. It caught him off guard but he was not unhappy about the change of events. The topics went from how to make the rocket chair land without hurting the survivors to Jack wearing a tiny top hat which earned some laughs from the pure image of it.

„(Y/N)...why do you keep avoiding me ? Do you hate me ? Is it because of my image ?“

You didn't know what to say for a second. The atmosphere drastically changed from happy to serious which you didn't expect. Mike's eyes drilled holes into you, waiting for an answer.

Scratching your neck you looked to the side.

„Mike...I like you. But I don't like how you always force yourself to smile. It's okay to show your true feelings as well...“

The blonde continued to starre down at you. Yet disbelief clouded his face. He always made sure to keep his act up. To stay the sunshine he was. Smiling, funny, entertaining. The perfect show cast. Yet here you were, looking past all of it. No one dared to say anything or to ask him if he was doing well. Because they saw the smile he presented.

Yet he remembered again why exactly he was so focused on your from the very beginning on.

As you were the only and first one to tell him that it was alright to vent or be sad for a bit after they had a terrible loss against the Geisha. He was clearly not happy with the results and focused the blame on himself.

But you were next to him, rubbing his back when he was not in the mood to smile. Giving him the impression that he was not only an actor but also a human who has other sides to him than the positive ones. That he was allowed to feel frustrated or sad. How could he forget that someone was actually caring for him once.

„Besides. I love your genuine smile the most. It outshines Apollo himself by far.“

And by flashing him that big warm smile of yours which only the luckiest ones got to see, his face flushed up. Since he remembered the second reason why he was so concentrated to see you happy.

Blooming inside of him that night, was a flower of affection and care for someone, which he never expected to experience before. And it soon would be the reason why he could smile with his full heart behind it.

[mithranqueersmusings]

Before This Dance Is Through IX

Chapter: 9/16

Rating: U

Summary: Ringo's being going through a dry spell for the last year or so and when he regretfully tells his best friend John, he insists on taking them to an all-male strip club for some "fun". Ringo isn't sure whether it's the alcohol, his desperation or a mixture of the two but he thinks he might be falling in love with a stripper.

Tags: AU - Strippers, Modern Setting, Smut, Slow Burn

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

"I'll leave you out here to have your little tantrum, alright? I'll be inside when you've calmed down." John spat, quickly storming back into the club without giving a second glance to his friend.

What was his problem? Tonight was supposed to be fun. John always seemed to encounter that problem: whenever he was trying to have a good time, which was almost all of the time, someone had to go and ruin it by getting upset over something or making everything all serious for no real reason. He was sick of it, even if Ringo was his best friend he wasn't going to put up with tonight being derailed.

Ringo's words had stung him deeply, as much as he wasn't willing to admit it, even to himself. John had heard time and time again that he wasn't sympathetic enough, but he didn't view himself that way; more often than not people didn't even tell him what their problems were then would suddenly explode out of nowhere and blame him for not noticing the fuse being lit. Ringo rarely did, this was one of the few occasions he let his emotions get the better of him and John didn't have the patience, not tonight.

There was only one person left who'd give him the time of day right now, and that was Paul. John shoved his way through the crowds more aggressively than he needed to, but it at least felt good to exert the anger somehow, and asked the first dancer he saw if they'd seen Paul. His name was Stuart, he'd been working at the club the longest therefore he knew John the longest; when he'd first started coming here Stuart had been his favourite, but that all changed when Paul came along. It had gotten past the point of John even needing to ask where Paul was, if any of the workers saw him approaching they immediately knew what question was going to fall from of his lips. That didn't stop John from asking though, just because it was a strip club didn't mean he'd forget his manners. Stuart had given an unsure answer, John always thought he was a little bothered about being replaced by Paul but that might have been his ego talking.

John continued his search, trying to ignore how sticky the carpet was as he tried to move around - whose idea was it to put a carpet in a strip club? It didn't take long to find Paul, he usually always had a crowd of a few people around him and tonight was no exception. As soon as Paul noticed John he politely ended whatever conversation he was having and headed over to him, as he always did. The spat with Ringo had made John forget the reason they were even here tonight, or at least why he was here: to see Paul like this. He looked absolutely breathtaking, if John didn't know any better he would've thought Paul was biologically female. Makeup sculpted his already feminine face, his long eyelashes even longer and darker, his plump lips even plumper. He was wearing the highest heels John had seen so far, a black platform boot which went all the way to his thigh. Over his body was a dusty pink chiffon robe, loosely flowing over his bare arms, which he hadn't shaved much to John's approval. This sight was exactly what he'd been waiting for, and now that he'd seen it all the frustration about what had just happened seemed to melt away.

"You alright, love?" Paul asked, he stepped away from the group he'd been talking to and brushed John's elbow to turn his body to face away from them "Fancy some privacy?"

John let out a weak laugh "I don't have any money." He admitted "I was kinda hoping Ringo was gonna bail me out."

Paul chuckled and John couldn't help watching his coloured lips curl "Is that why you brought him here, so he could pay for your dances?"

"Well it wasn't not the reason." John felt himself easing up already, Paul's hand was still brushing against his arm.

"I can take my break and we can sit in the back, if you want to." Paul quietened his voice a little.

"Sounds like a plan." John never wanted to seem too enthusiastic when Paul suggested this, but he didn't think he did a great job of hiding it.

Paul nodded and started walking around the edge of the stage until he came to a door marked only for staff, he had to punch in a combination on the wall before the door unlocked. This was far from the first time that John had sat with Paul in the back room, in fact he struggled to even remember the first time it'd happened.

As much as John had wanted Ringo to believe he'd only been coming to the club recently, it was a gargantuan lie. John had been coming here for years and the majority of that time had been spent with Paul. The first time they 'met' unfolded with Paul approaching John who had been sulking in a booth surrounded by empty beer bottles. Paul had later explained that he went over to him because he had looked eccentric, with his multicoloured striped trousers and brown fur coat - not to forget the pin.

"Eccentric means one of two things: money or trouble." Paul had explained much later "I don't need to say which one I got from you."

John had been immediately taken with Paul, though he'd never tell that to anyone, with his doe eyes and honeyed voice. When it had gotten to the point that John couldn't afford any dances, Paul had offered a couple for free; the exact wording had been that it'd be put onto John's tab, but so much time had passed since then and no such tab had been paid off. Eventually though, Paul made it clear that this imaginary tab wasn't limitless and that he couldn't make a living off of charity. John had been determined to find a way around it but money hadn't been easy to come by for him at the time, no publisher was interested in his poems and he had no clue what to write his next book about. Paul had caught wind of this, namely because John had gotten drunk and complained about the abysmal condition of his life, and thus a strange new transaction began. Paul loved poetry, and there was no joy greater than discovering a work that nobody else had read before and through John he was able to experience this joy over and over again.

When Paul had suggested to John that he could pay him in poetry, he burst into a fit of laughter that didn't subside for several minutes at least. Once he realised Paul was being serious, the most productive writing period of his life began. The two of them never discussed the poems themselves, it all transpired like an illegal art deal as John would hand over the shabby piece of paper and Paul would accept it with a smile, slipping it into his pocket - or wherever he could fit it - then would lead John away to a private space. Unfortunately, the love Paul had for John's poems wasn't going to pay the bills either and even this had to come to a halt. Yet all was not lost, for Paul had discovered very quickly that when John was craving to see him, he wasn't really desperate for a lapdance, rather he just wanted some intimacy with someone, someone who couldn't express any judgement. This realisation led Paul to inviting John into the staff room, it wasn't completely unheard of for dancers to do this but it was mostly reserved for friends rather than customers, where the two of them would sit and chat over a drink or two.

It was policy to keep a bottle of alcohol in the staff room at all times, just in case of emergencies. But as the manager wouldn't allow anything to be taken from the bar, it meant an array of cheap and often obscure liqours being brought into the room.

"What have we got tonight?" John asked as they took seats by the mirror - luckily Paul was always here to distract John's gaze so he could avoid looking at himself.

Paul stuck his head under the countertop and returned clutching a bottle "Amaretto, it looks like." He read.

"That's barely alcohol." John scoffed as Paul set up two glasses in front of them "Well, at least I can drink it straight."

"Think we need to make a rule that if it's not at least 30% it shouldn't be under the counter." Paul suggested as he poured a healthy amount for the both of them.

John was already drunk enough, but he was never one to turn down free alcohol. They cheersed one another and drank a fair bit before slamming the glasses back down. There was nobody else in the room, as was often the case on a busy night like tonight. Before John had laid eyes on it, he'd expected the changing room to be some kind of kinky sex dungeon with whips and chains on the wall, so naturally he'd been very disappointed to see it was like any other changing room, except with a lot more glitter and a better smell.

"So, do you wanna talk about it?" Paul asked, looking at John through the reflection of the mirror.

Their chats almost always started this way, John had noticed that very early on. Whatever answer he gave, Paul would always respect it. He never understood why Paul just let him ramble on about his problems, or expect Paul to ramble on to distract him from said problems. In the end he supposed it was cheaper than therapy, he could only suppose since he'd never actually been.

"I'd love to, but I can't really. Ringo would kill me." John explained with a sullen look.

"I understand." Paul smiled softly "Whatever's happened I'm sure it'll be fine, you've been friends forever after all."

"For sure." John mumbled, and that was Paul's cue to begin the distractions.

"Tonight's been a right ballache, no pun intended." Paul began inspecting himself in the mirror "When I suggested it, everyone was all for it and now it's all 'Paul, my feet hurt' or 'Paul, this bra makes me look fat'."

"I think it was a great idea." John took another swig of his drink, his eyes were focused on Paul's reflection.

"Oh yeah? And how would you rate the illusion out of ten?" Paul smirked.

"Ten." John answered bluntly "If I was straight, I'd be having a right crisis after seeing you."

"It's a good thing you're not then." Paul rummaged around in a bag that was on the counter, eventually pulling out some mascara and touching up his makeup "I've just had the best idea."

"You'll never charge me for a dance again?" John suggested with a grin.

"You wish, love." Paul winked "No, what I actually had in mind was trying some of this makeup on your lovely face."

John paused "And why would you wanna do that?"

"It'll be fun! Don't you want to see what you'll look like properly done up? I bet you'd make a pretty girl." Paul urged, he was already laying out his makeup out.

"I've worn makeup before, Paul." John stated somewhat defensively.

"Eyeliner and tinted lipbalm doesn't count." Paul retorted, gesturing with the tube of mascara.

John sighed in resignation, scooting his chair a little closer to Paul's, who beamed in excitement. It was moments like this that made John want to question exactly what this dynamic was, he wanted to avoid the word relationship at all costs. On the one hand they saw one another every week or so, always dropped whatever they were doing to speak to the other and had spent hours of time doing nothing in particular besides chatting and laughing. Yet they'd never exchanged numbers, they didn't even know each other's last names and neither of them had explicitly expressed that they enjoyed spending time with one another. Sometimes John thought Paul did it merely to keep him as a loyal customer, and once he realised he wasn't going to be getting any money from him in the future he'd drop him in an instant. But here Paul was spending his only break trying to cheer John up, he didn't even need John to tell him that something was wrong, he just knew. Perhaps John had gotten so angry with Ringo because he'd been able to admit what John had never been able to. Perhaps.

The two of them continued talking and joking with one another as Paul delicately painted John's face. He'd almost finished John's second eye when his phone suddenly vibrated. John didn't need to check it to know it was Ringo, most likely apologising, and so he paid no notice to it. All of this would've blown over by the morning, he saw no point in dealing with it now.

"Aaaand done." Paul announced proudly, he leaned back in his chair to get a better look at his work and his smile only grew.

"This better not inflate my ego any further, I've already got enough issues because of that." John prefaced before he turned to look at himself in the mirror.

The sight absolutely stunned him. Naturally he had to move a little closer to the mirror so that he could get a proper look, a strip club was the last place he'd ever wear his glasses. Most interesting was how Paul had almost painted his own face onto John's, it was like looking at some strange feminine hybrid of the two of them. What John loved most was the eyes, how smoky and alluring Paul had made them.

"After all these years of people telling me to go fuck myself, I can safely say that I would." John turned his face from side to side to get a full view.

"You look gorgeous, John. But that's nothing new." Paul's eyes were filled with joy as he watched John's reaction.

"You're proper good at this, maybe when you get too old for stripping you could be a make up artist." John suggested jokingly which earned him a glare from Paul.

"The day I get too old for stripping is the day you earn a steady wage." Paul quipped back, the two of them began laughing before the door suddenly opened dramatically.

Behind the door was Stuart looking fairly alarmed, it was no surprise that he knew to find the two of them back here. He didn't even question why John was currently covered in makeup, it wasn't the strangest thing he'd caught them doing.

"Bloody fight's just broken out." Stuart explained as he walked into the room, Paul immediately rose up from his seat.

"What happened?" Paul asked desperately.

"I dunno. Two lads just started going at it, think Spike might've been involved." Stuart explained "They've both been kicked out now, it's all fine. Just thought you'd like to know."

"Nothing worse than missing a good fight." John added, he thought that Stuart had been speaking more to him than to Paul.

Just as Stuart opened his mouth to speak, the door opened again, and Spike walked in. He paused when confronted with the sight of everyone looking at him, as though they'd been expecting for him to show up.

"If you stare any longer I'll have to charge." Spike made his way over to his locker and began to change, he didn't seem phased by John being able to see him.

"What happened? Are you alright?" Paul walked over to him, inspecting his face and arms for any damage.

"I'm fine. Some prick just got a little too big for his boots and someone stepped in to help." Spike turned to look at John "It was your friend, actually."

"Not very bloody likely." John gaped "Are you sure?"

"Short guy with a beard. Wears a lot of rings." Spike detailed "That's him isn't it?"

"Shit." John sat back in his chair and let out a heavy sigh "Didn't think he'd go that mental."

"Someone's gonna have to cover my last dance cause I'm not going out there again tonight." Spike ignored John's words and focused on Paul and Stuart "I'm sick of these creeps, I tell you."

"I'll cover for you." Stuart responded almost immediately "Are you gonna be alright?"

"I can get you an Uber home." Paul chimed in, looking around for his phone.

"No, no, it's fine." Spike paused and took in a deep breath "I just need to get out of here."

He'd changed out of his previous outfit, it couldn't really be described as clothing, then headed back over to the door. With a quiet muttering of goodbye, he was gone. Stuart soon followed after him, he didn't tend to stick around too long when Paul and John were on their own. Paul sighed as he sunk back down in his seat, any time anything like this happened it always took a toll on him; it just brought up memories of all the times something similar had happened to him. Now wasn't the time to dwell, not when he was meant to be making John feel better, who was currently gazing off into space.

"Are you gonna go looking for him?" Paul asked, more of a suggestion than a mere question.

"Nah." John sighed, picking up his recently refilled glass "Sounds like he's in a right state, I'd probably only make him worse."

"You should text him at least, it'll make him feel better." Paul pressed his hand onto John's knee.

John paused "You're right." He breathed then pulled his phone from out of his pocket.

Ringo responded almost immediately which was a good sign, it meant he wasn't completely pissed off with John. As much as he knew Ringo wasn't going to take him up on his offer to head home with him if he'd been refused entry, he offered it all the same. All this was very much rehearsed, up until the next message Ringo sent. He was going out for drinks? With who? Wait.

"No fucking way." John almost gasped which alarmed Paul.

"What? What?" Paul leaned forward to try and get a view of the phone.

"He's going for drinks with Spike." A huge smile spread across John's face "Ringo, you bastard."

Paul didn't respond immediately, he took a moment to process exactly what John had revealed with those words and how in retrospect everything then made sense. Instead he picked up the rapidly emptying bottle and topped up their glasses.

"Good thing we've got our own drinks here." Paul said somewhat quietly, then picked up his glass to cheers with John once more.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be." John mocked, but both of them knew all to well that he wasn't joking, it was probably the most genuine thing he'd said all night.

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: A Wish Your Heart Makes (Keanu x Reader) 3/3

Author's notes: cinderella AU requested by @ringa-starr​ Check it out part 1 and part 2 Thank you everyone for all the feedback and loving words on this. Hope you all enjoy this wrap up!

Word count: 2584

Warnings: a tiny bit of angst, but still so fluffy

As an employee of the hotel, you had could have all of your meals at the restaurant. Not the entire menu, of course, but enough so that you barely ever ate at your own place anymore. Especially not breakfast, that in your opinion was the time of the day the restaurant served their best meals. It was just easier to have it here before heading home after a night shift.

So as usual, you took your table a little after seven. It was still pretty empty at that time of the morning so as soon as you were seated, one of the waiters came to see you, a friendly smile on his face as he took your order.

You took out your book and managed half a page before someone dropped on the seat across from you. When you lowered your book to see, you felt your cheeks warm at the sight of a freshly showered Keanu in front of you.

“Morning, Christie,” he greeted you. His dark hair was still wet and combed back, the tips curling by his nape. His skin had a slightly flushed tone and the scent of his aftershave was wafting in your direction.

“Good morning, Mr.-Keanu,” you caught yourself, earning a wide smile from him, that made you smile too, your heart speeding up in your chest.

Your plan had been to put the entire masquerade ball behind you, forget it had even happened, but apparently, fate was very keen on making that impossible.

Keanu seemed to be everywhere you went and you were starting to see a side of him that was completely different from what the tabloids and gossip suggested. He was kind and funny and understanding that if you hadn’t been already infatuated with him after the ball, you would certainly by now.

And you know it was so stupid to fall for your boss, but it was hard not to when Keanu kept smiling at you like that, searching you out and giving you stupid nicknames.

“Sam’s already in,” you said, remembering what he had asked you yesterday. “If you still want to talk to him.”

“No need,” he grinned as he placed his order. “What I needed from him I ended finding out on my own.”

You set your book aside and watched him with expectation, your stomach suddenly heavy because you had a feeling it was about the masquerade ball.

After a moment of silence, Keanu told her everything, the gala, his mystery woman, finding her dress by chance at the laundry and discovering the woman’s room. He searched for her and she admitted everything.

“Long story short, Aubrey and I have a date tonight,” he finished, his eyes glinting with excitement as he sipped his coffee.

You wanted to scream that he found the wrong woman, that she was lying to him and had never set foot at the masquerade ball. But if you did that, how were you going to explain it? You couldn’t exactly confess everything to him, could you?

“I’m happy,” he declared, his smile taking a softer note. “I haven’t really been able to open up to anyone in a while. Maybe I’m finally ready to move on.”

“That’s good,” you managed, nearly choking on your words. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks… Rowling,” Keanu flashed you a teasing smile and all you felt like throwing up.

“I have to get going,” you said, standing up. “Good luck on your date tonight, Keanu.”

“Wait. You haven’t even finished…”

You didn’t stay to hear the rest. You were dangerously close to crying and you didn’t want him to see you like that. Not again.

Why did those things keep happening to you? Why couldn’t you just catch a break?

---

His heart was thundering in his chest, his palms were sweating and there was a knot in his throat. Keanu hadn’t felt like this in ages. Not even when he broke ground on his first hotel, but tonight he was a pile of nerves. He just wanted for this to go well between him and Aubrey, as well as it had gone at the party.

He tried to fix his tie again, but it stubbornly sat crooked around his neck. With a frustrated sigh, Keanu combed his fingers through his hair one last time, before grabbing his jacket and pocketing his phone. If he didn’t leave now, he would be late.

The elevator’s ride felt like it was taking forever and when it finally opened in the lobby, Keanu felt his stomach twisting into knots. He looked around, before checking his watch, but Aubrey still hadn’t come down.

“Your tie is crooked,” she said, and he looked up to see Y/N behind him.

“Never been great with bow ties.”

She snorted and gestured him to come closer and lift his chin as she undid the tie. Her nimble fingers brushing against his Adam’s apple and making him swallow hard.

“There. That’s better,” she said, taking a step away from him. “You look very handsome, Keanu.”

“Thanks.” He smiled as she held his gaze, the knots in his stomach shifting into butterflies. “Brontë.” Her lips quirked into a grin.

“You’ve used that one before.”

“There are four of them, so I still have two more.”

Her chuckle made him laugh too, his heart slowing down in a way like only familiarity and comfort could do. But before she could answer, someone cleared their throat beside them and Keanu turned to see at Aubrey. She looked stunning in blue, though he still preferred the red.

“Hey. You look amazing,” he greeted, moving to take her hand in his elbow and press a kiss on her cheek. “Shall we?”

Aubrey nodded, and Keanu took a step towards the restaurant. He looked over his shoulder at Y/N one last time, smiling at the way she mouthed good luck to him, before heading back to the front desk.

“I thought the restaurant was that way,” Aubrey gestured when Keanu took a left instead of the usual right.

“It is, but I have a surprise.”

She smiled wide at him and let him lead her across the ballroom and to the balcony where he had asked for a table to be set.

“What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful.” Aubrey kissed his cheek before taking her seat, one of the waiters pulling the chair out for her.

Keanu expected a better reaction if he was being honest. This was the balcony they had spent their first night after all. He did his best to shake his disappointment as he watched her sip her wine, nose wrinkling in distaste.

“Can I get a rosé?” she asked, snapping her fingers at the waiter. He hurried to exchange her glass, while Aubrey turned her focus back on Keanu as they lapsed in a long, awkward silence.

“So, uh, you never told me what you do,” he asked, trying to break strangeness of all.

Aubrey smiled and launched herself in a long explanation about her career as a digital influencer, her several contracts with different brands that she advertised on her Instagram and YouTube channel. Everything she described felt so jarringly opposed to what Keanu had thought he had seen when they first met that he didn’t know what to think. Could he have been that wrong?

“…and that was how I got a contract with Dior at Paris Fashion Week, last year.” she completed with a smug grin, pulling Keanu back from his musings.

“I’m sorry, did you say Paris?” he asked, and Aubrey just nodded, distractedly checking her phone as the waiter came over with the menus.

“I think I’m going with the seabass a provençal,” Aubrey said, glancing up at Keanu when he chuckled humorlessly.

“It was never you, was it?” he asked, partly disappointed, partly relieved. “The other night.” Aubrey froze, surprise shining in her eyes. “Why did you lie?”

“Keanu Reeves shows up at your door thinking you two hooked up at a party? Who would be crazy enough to say no to that?”

There was a derisive tone in her voice and that’s what sealed the deal. Keanu stood up, setting his napkin on the table.

­“Have a good night, Aubrey.”

He didn’t wait for her protest or reply. Keanu just needed to get out of there, forget this entire mess had happened to begin with. Preferably over some whiskey and Lawrence’s company.

Keanu headed straight for his friend’s office, pausing outside the door as he heard muffled voices arguing. One male, two females. Before he could reach for the handle, the door was pushed open and Y/N ran straight onto his chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, noticing the angsted expression in her face.

Her eyes went wide when she recognized him and she pulled back from his embrace, her eyes welling up. Keanu could see she was fighting tears as she shook her head and ran off.

Keanu watched her go in confusion, before stepping inside the room to find Lawrence sitting behind his desk, looking tired and disappointed and Adrianne with a smug smirk on her lips.

“What just happened? Why was she crying?”

“I had to let her go,” Lawrence replied with a sigh. “Weren’t supposed to be on a date?”

“She wasn’t the one,” Keanu said with a frown, noticing the cashmere scarf Lawrence was holding. His scarf. “Where did you get that?”

Lawrence looked at the garment and sighed again.

“It was found in her bag,” Adrianne declared almost preening and Keanu just knew she had gone through Y/N’s things to find it. “It’s probably from one of the guests and she stole it. I’ve always known she was a bad fit for this hotel.”

“It’s mine,” Keanu said, taking the scarf, his heart hitting his throat as the puzzle was finally complete.

It was there all along, staring him in the face. No wonder he felt such a connection to her from the second they met. How he felt so comfortable with her without knowing why. How the banter and conversation with her felt so natural to him like he already knew her. It was her. She was the one.

“She didn’t steal this. I gave it to her.”

---

You were still battling your tears when you got home after clearing your locker. This was really it. You had lost everything you ever cared about in only four months.

You lost your family, you lost your writing, you lost your job, you lost your friends. You even lost Keanu. Not that you ever had him, in the first place, but your heart didn’t seem to care with such details. It just hurt.

You dropped your backpack by the door, moving to the couch and curling into a fetal. You knew you should probably start to make a plan, figure out what you were gonna do from now on, but your brain seemed unable to focus enough for you to gather your thoughts. All you managed was to relive everything that had happened in the last hour.

The knock on your door made you jump startled, finally breaking through your depressed musings. You knew it was probably Trina, having learned of what happened. Or maybe Sam. Part of you wanted to ignore it. Seeing them would make everything worse.

But another part of you knew you needed someone tonight, otherwise, you’d drive yourself crazy thinking on what-ifs or dwelling on everything. So you dragged yourself from the couch and pulled the door open, coming face to face with Keanu.

“Wha…?” it was all you managed before Keanu sidestepped you and moved into the apartment.

“It was you. At the ball. It was you.” It wasn’t a question and panic squeezed your lungs, making you unable to talk. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid,” you said, hugging yourself as you looked away from him. “I borrowed a dress from a guest of the hotel without their knowledge, crashed a party during my work shift... Lawrence was right in firing me.”

“I don’t care about any of that!” Keanu exclaimed. “I can’t believe you watched me go out with another woman, thinking it was you.” A hint of anger bled into his tone. “And you just stood there and wished me good luck.”

“What was I supposed to do?” you shouted back, fear shifting into anger. “Just come around and say: hey, I know you’re my boss, but we shared the best kiss of my life the other night and I think I might be in love with you?”

“What did you say?” Keanu asked and you could see the shock in his eyes.

“Nothing. Forget it.”

You shook her head, turning away from him. What the hell were you thinking? Did you really blurt that out?

“Say it again,” Keanu asked, hand resting on your arm, warm and comforting as he slowly made you turn around again to face him. “Please.”

He was towering over you and your heart thundered against your chest as you looked up at him. There it was it again, the intense gaze you had seen at the ball, but there was also hope and hesitation.

“I think I’m in love with you,” you whispered.

Keanu smiled, hand moving from your arm to wrap around your back and pull you flush against his body as his lips met yours.

There weren’t any fireworks or sparks or any of the other clichés. There was instead a certain sense of belonging. Like this was something you were supposed to be doing all along. It felt almost like coming home.

“I’m in love with you too,” Keanu whispered against your lips as the two of your part, forehead resting against yours.

“Really?” You smiled at him, arms coming around his neck.

“Really.” Keanu smiled too before catching your lips in a new kiss.

---

Your throat felt dry and a little sore as you finished reading the manuscript and as soon as the words ‘the end’ passed your lips, a cool glass of lemonade appeared in front of you as Keanu brushed a kiss against the top of your head.

“So what do you think?” you asked, after taking a long sip of the drink and looking up at him from where you laid resting against his chest, legs stretched over the couch.

“I love it,” he said with a big grin. “Though I don’t remember being that clueless.”

“Honey, please!” you snorted. “You went on a date with the wrong girl.”

“You could’ve stopped me!” he complained with a pout that never failed to make you laugh and kiss him.

“It doesn’t matter now, does it?” you asked settling the glass and your manuscript on the coffee table, before climbing on his lap. “It worked out in the end.”

“Yeah, it did,” Keanu smiled softly and kissed the tip of your nose. “It’s a great book, babe. And it deserves to be published.”

You grinned at him before kissing him, his lips parting under yours almost immediately, welcoming you in.

“You know what that means, right?” you said as you broke away from the kiss. “I’ll be a published author so you’re gonna have to find other nicknames for me.”

“You’re right,” Keanu said with a small frown, that quickly broke into a smile as he took your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing over the golden band around your ring finger. “How does Mrs. Reeves, sound?”

“It sounds really, really good.”

xxx

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