#I’ll look up the chords but I refuse to look up sheet music for the actual notes. I like to figure it out myself

[asurrogateblog]

finally figured out how to play both of the comfortably numb guitar solos on my keyboard and I’ve concluded that if I had actual musical talent I would for sure go mad with power

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 8

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language? Warnings: None? I think? Please let me know if I missed something Notes: Bit of fluff with some anxiety/update on primary conflict. Next chapter will be a cute date with Dani, the one after that will be maximum h*rny, and then what will likely be the finale. Music for this chapter here. PS this one is a bit on the shorter side, but I hope y'all still enjoy it. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony

Chapter 8: Obbligato

(Obbligato: An instrumental part which is essential in a piece of music)

“Okay, okay, serious this time, please? I’ll give you a kiss if you try hard enough,” you promised, grinning up at Daniela as you did. A week had passed since your talk in the library, with the two of you spending most days together, and you were progressing nicely with the musical lessons. Still, your girlfriend (you would never get tired of saying that word) was prone to getting a tad ‘distracted’. By you, usually. Not that it was intentional by any means. There was only so much you could do to keep her focused when the two of you were this close together.

“I could just kiss you anyway,” Daniela teased, leaning in with familiar intent. Right before your lips touch, however, she pulls back and smirks. “But if you insist, I can handle the challenge.” Then she’s turning back towards the piano, carefully finding the starting position. Even with her prior experience, you were impressed with how much she had already learned, and couldn’t help but be immensely proud of her. If anyone could meet Lady Dimitrescu’s expectations within a three month timeframe, it was the two of you. Except, of course, you still had to double-check just what her expectations were.

In the meantime, you were excited to hear your girlfriend play through the sheet music you had written up. Most of what you were working with had come from the family’s storage room, but you had also found some blank sheets, and figured it couldn’t hurt to create songs of your own. This particular one was relatively simple. It had been based on a song from a game you had played years ago, and only posed a moderate challenge due to its interesting rhythm. Daniela had seemed to enjoy playing it, with you even hearing her practice the song outside of your lessons, but had so far today refused to play it seriously.

Finally that was going to change. Once she found the starting notes, she nodded to herself, then started playing. For the first time today her expression is stern, focused. Seeing her like this was nice. She was always cute, you just thought that she was extra cute like this. But you tried not to let yourself get too distracted, knowing that you couldn’t give her feedback if you didn’t pay attention. In your head you “play along”, fingers miming the movements, knowing that it would help you catch any possible mistakes. Throughout the piece there are only a couple that you catch, none of them being severe enough to ruin the experience. Finishing with a little flourish, Daniela returns her gaze to you, grinning expectantly.

“Well? I seem to recall you promising me a reward,” she said, perking a brow. Laughing a little, you roll your eyes, before moving in to give her exactly what she wanted. Both of you are smiling into the kiss, enjoying every moment of it. Soon enough Daniela is running a hand through your hair, and pressing against you more, tilting her head just enough to deepen the kiss. You’re blushing hard now, thoughts going everywhere other than music. It’s not until you pull back for air that you remember what you’re supposed to be doing right now.

“As wonderful as this is… we still have a few more songs to go over,” you murmured, despite how much you wanted to keep kissing Daniela. By the way she groaned in frustration, you figured she felt the same way, more or less. “Hey, don’t fret too much. Think of this as an opportunity to earn a few more rewards,” you teased, gently patting her on the shoulder. For a moment she simply pouts, but eventually she sighs and gets ready to play another song…

------------------------------------

Rushing up the steps, practically two at a time, you desperately hoped that you wouldn’t be late. This was your third “update meeting” with Lady Dimitrescu, which by itself was enough to make you a nervous wreck. Add in the fact that this was the first time you’d be meeting alone? And in her personal study, no less? Well, it was safe to say that you were terrified. You hadn’t even been told why things were different this time. No, you were about as clueless as could be, given the circumstances.

By the time you make it your Lady’s study, you cannot tell whether your heart is racing due to stress or physical exertion. Regardless, you make it there in short time, arriving precisely at the scheduled hour. After taking a moment to settle your nerves, you briefly knock on the chamber door. There’s the sound of movement from inside before the way opens. Lady Dimitrescu has to bend a little to see out, but quickly smiles when she meets your gaze. Which was rather unexpected. The last time you had met with her she had been distanced, although still polite. Then again, Daniela had also been with you, and the focus was, as always, on her.

“Lady Dimitrescu,” you greeted, giving a short bow per customs. Then you were being waved in, brought over to a small sitting area, where you waited for permission to sit down. Once it was given, you relaxed a little. Maybe I don’t have as much reason to be nervous as I thought, you muse.

“Please, make yourself comfortable. There are no reasons for you to be unsettled, as far as I am aware,” Lady Dimitrescu said, smile disappearing for a moment at the end. But it’s back as quickly as it had vanished. Did she suspect something? Perhaps she had seen the way Daniela looked at you, or even overheard the whisperings of your roommates. Both thoughts do little other than renew your anxiety. Noticing this, Alcina frowns and shakes her head. “I was merely joking. Now, let us get to the reason for our meeting: How are Daniela’s lessons fairing? There is only so much I can glean from listening.” Glad to have something to think about other than your secret relationship with your boss’ daughter, you nodded and began explaining.

“Lady Daniela is making outstanding progress, in my opinion. Even with her occasional… lapses in attention, once she puts her mind to something, she’s quick to master it. At this point she can sight read nearly as fast and accurately as myself. However, we’re still going over vocabulary, as well as keys and their corresponding chords,” you answered, barely able to maintain eye contact with your employer. Thankfully, she seems to have accepted the inevitability of your nervousness. You were especially thankful now that you prepared to ask her a question. “My Lady, may I inquire about what specifically you expect from my teachings? If there are certain genres you wish for Daniela to be familiar with, or techniques-... I must admit I am unsure as to how to best meet your requirements.”

Slowly reclining in her chair, Alcina appears to ponder your question. In the meantime she sips at her beverage, holding the cup as if it were a fragile heirloom (which it could very well be), eyes looking into the middle distance. Then she gives a soft hum, setting her cup down and returning her attention to you.

“I suppose I can understand your concern. In some ways you have already exceeded my expectations,” she said, expression oddly plain in comparison to her positive phrasing. “My daughter has rarely invested herself in anything as much as she has in your lessons. For this, I am left wondering what she finds so captivating- the music, or the one who pulls the strings?... But that is not the answer to your inquiry, is it?” In that moment, you are incredibly still, willing yourself to keep a straight face, despite the racing of your heart. At your silence, Alcina perks a brow, expecting you to respond. You can’t, your mouth suddenly dry. “What I expect is a passion to educate, a drive to see my daughter flourish. I expect you to teach her exactly as much as she wants you to, focusing on whatever brings her the most joy. But I expect professionalism. Your duties come first, above your health, happiness, and all other desires. Am I understood?”

“Yes, my Lady. Of course, my Lady,” you replied, stuttering, eyes wide. Did she know? Or merely suspect?... There’s another thought, one you try desperately not to voice, only to hear the words fill the room before you can stop yourself. “May I ask where Lady Daniela’s desires fit into this?” Silence hangs heavy over the room for several seconds. Your employer has narrowed her eyes, lips curled downwards into a sharp scowl, watching you with thinly-veiled anger. All you can do is gulp and wait for her response. When it comes, you are surprised by the stability of her tone. It was almost as if she respected your gall.

“She is young still, with the mind of a lovesick maiden. Daniela does not know what she wants, not really, nor does she understand what she needs. If her… flirtatious nature begins to interrupt your instruction, then your response must be swift, and uninterested. Regardless of how unkindly she takes your rejection, I will ensure that she does not harm you,” Lady Dimitrescu said, giving a stern nod at the end. Though her tone was reassuring, you hardly felt better, considering you were far past the point of turning Daniela down (if anything, you had only turned her on). “Now, with that settled, I believe I should let you return to your duties. Oh, and do tell Cynthia that the tea she brewed was perfect, should you happen to see her.”

Then she looked away, practically ignoring your continued existence. So you rose to your feet, gave another bow, and left before your panic could devolve into a breakdown. Daniela is not going to be happy about this.

[fallingappleshurt]

Project Pink

Sorry Y’all this one got away from me again and I wrote it while tired, again. Anyways here is some badly written shit and have a good period of existence in the universe!

Oh god my brain is going brrrrrrrr

Techno and Wilbur.

It had always been Techno and Wilbur Soode against the world.

Some would make jokes about how it was because they were identical twins, they got ridiculous questions like ‘If I pinch him will you feel it?’ or ‘Can you guys mentally speak- like through your minds?’ They would roll their eyes and say no, sometimes they’d joke around acting like they could read each other's mind or something stupid but it was rare.

They went through multiple foster homes, refusing to be separated from each other, if they ever were they’d find a way back to the other, because it was them against the world.

Then they got placed with Phil Wingraft.

He was different.

They had been through a few foster homes, some were good, some were okay, and one was really bad but Phil was different.

He treated them like they were normal, he was gentle but not patronizing or condescending, he would joke around with them but also became a person they could trust.

He took the time to learn about their interests, he got Wilbur a guitar and took Techno to the library every week. He took the time to recognize the difference between Wilbur’s crazy fluffy hair and Techno more tame but still wavy curls. Wilbur was taller then Techno by half a head but from a distance it was hard to tell. They both had the same shaped face and the same cinnamon colored eyes, the main difference was Techno had glasses.

They stayed with Phil for a year before they were officially adopted and became a family. A two years later he asked them how they would feel if he started fostering another kid, named Tommy.

“I’d be okay with that,” Techno said, shrugging, he hadn’t really processed it but he’d go along with it. Wilbur agreed too, nodding along, it seemed like it would make Phil happy so why not?

“That’s great, it’ll take a few days for the paperwork to go through, then he’ll be with us!” Phil was grinning, this was making Phil happy so this could make Wilbur happy.

Later they were in their room when Techno kicked the top bunk Wilbur was laying on.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, rolling his head halfway off the bed, trying to look at his brother.

“What?” Wilbur asked, looking over the railing.

“Don’t be like that, I know that look, you look like you just ate a suspicious lemonhead,”

“I don’t have a look like that!”

“Stop avoiding the question!” His face softened, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just worried about the new kid, Tommy, I-I don’t know, it just makes me worried, what if it changes things?”

Techno was quiet, he bit his lip.

“I get that, it makes sense but I don’t think anything bad will happen. Phil is great and I don’t think he would push us away, he’s not like that. Who knows, maybe we can have a little brother,”

Wilbur huffed out a small laugh, smiling softly, “Yeah, a little brother, that would be nice.”

Techno sighed contently, shifting back onto his bed. They laid in silence for a moment when Wilbur laughed.

“I mean, it’ll be nice for you, I already have one.”

“Two minutes Wilbur! Two minutes!”

Tommy joined them 4 days later, a little blonde dweeb with baby blue eyes. He was loud, annoying, and hyper. He would talk loudly when Techno was trying to do homework, he untuned Wilbur’s guitar, he said it was an accident but they weren’t really sure, and was overall like a bull in a china shop.

Techno was gonna pull his own hair out, Wilbur had come very close to locking him out of the apartment, they were both going to kill him.

It took them two weeks to fall in change completely.

It started when Tommy asked Techno for some help in his homework, it actually shocked Techno, the kid who was so loud and proud of his accomplishments shyly asking if Techno could help him with his math work was interesting, to say the least.

Techno almost said no, almost teased him, ‘What? The Great TommyInnit needs help? I thought you knew everything!’

Almost.

Tommy looked different, fingers nervously tapping on the packet, trying not to crickle it, eyes darting around, even his voice was shaky.

It reminded Techno when he’d ask an old foster parent for help, only they’d turn him away, telling him to figure it out, that they were too busy.

He didn’t want to be like that.

“Sure, what are you learning?” He pushed some of his papers aside, making room for Tommy’s. Tommy grabbed a chair and sat next to him.

“Algebra,” He said, frowning, “I don’t get it- it’s just so weird,” He put his chin in his hands.

“Don’t worry, Algebra is super confusing-”

“Yeah right, you get everything, you’re really smart!”

“You’re smart too,” Techno offered, not sure what to say.

“Then name a time I’ve been smart!”

Techno short circuited.

“See!” Tommy gestured wildly.

“Tommy I’ve known you for two weeks, I’m sure you’ve done plenty of-”

Tommy groaned, “Nevermind, forget it-” He slid off the chair only for Techno to reach over and grab his arm.

“No, I’m sorry, just let me help,”

Tommy made a face but sat back down, “Fine.”

It had been 2 hours.

“This is useless! I’ll never get it!” Tommy stuck his hands in his hair.

“Just try this last problem, you’re so close!”

“No! I’ll just mess it up again!”

“You don’t know that, just try again!”

Reluctantly, Tommy picked his pencil back up and started on the equation. Techno turned back to his paper, finishing up a definition sheet, Tommy’s mumbles drifting in the background.

“Then add the two to get 16?” He looked up at Techno, who closed his textbook and looked over Tommy’s worksheet, covered in half erased scribbles, doodles, and pencil shavings.

“That’s right,” He grinned, reading over Tommy’s work again, “You did it,”

“Wait seriously? I got it right?”

“Yeah!”

“Yes! I did it!” Tommy pumped a fist in the air, cheering. “Thanks Techno!”

“Anytime nerd,”

Wilbur had been messing around with his guitar, sitting on his bunk, scribbling down music notes on a scrap of paper. He’d write a few phrases down and sing them softly to himself, strumming a few chords.

Scowling, he erased half the page, grumbling to himself; “It doesn’t sound right, why can’t I get it-”

“I thought it sounded nice,” Someone said from the bunk beneath him. Wilbur jumped, yelping, he hit his head on the ceiling. He leaned over the railing to see Tommy sitting on Techno’s bunk, limbs tangled around the latter.

“What are you doing? I thought you were out with Techno and Phil!” Wilbur said, sounding harsher and more shrill then he meant to, Tommy shrugged, “I didn’t want to go to the library today.”

“Wish I knew that beforehand,” He grumbled, going back to his music sheet.

“You seem mad,” Tommy observed, twisting his arm around the metal.

“Yeah I’m mad,”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I can’t get these stupid lyrics to sound right and you just scared the shit- I mean crap- out of me.”

Tommy cackled, “I’m telling Phil you swore!”

“Shut up,” Wilbur grumbled, gripping his pencil tighter. Tommy tipped his head to the side, “I don’t get why you’re angry, those lyrics sounded really nice.”

Wilbur paused, “You think so?”

“Yeah! It was really cool!” Tommy said, starting to come up the latter, he climbed onto the bed with Wilbur, “I liked it a lot!”

Wilbur smiled softly, “Thanks,”

“Can you play it again?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Wilbur sat up straighter, putting the guitar in a better position , “I don’t remember all the lyrics though,”

He started playing, slowly his nerves of playing in front of someone else started to slip away as he fell into the rhythm and flow of the music. He looked up briefly a few times seeing Tommy, smiling widely, eyes filled with admiration. He finished the song and looked at Tommy, who immediately leaned forwards.

“That was so good! Write it down so you don’t forget! Wilbur that was epic!”

“Really?”

“Definitely!” Tommy leaned back, then quietly added, “And I’m sorry I messed up your guitar the other week, it wasn’t on purpose,” He trailed off.

Wilbur shrugged, “It’s fine, you didn’t do any real damage, just messed up the tuning,”

“I was messing with it cause I wanna learn how to play, could you maybe show me sometime?”

“Maybe, I’m still considered an amateur on most standards,”

“Seriously?!”

Tommy went to the same school as them, he was in the sixth grade while Techno and Wilbur were in 8th, so they saw each other in the halls every once and awhile. The one thing Tommy hadn’t been able to learn, despite the fact he had learned algebra, basketball, and some of the guitar, was how to tell Techno and Wilbur apart when they weren’t standing directly next to each other.

They had tried everything, Tommy would try to memorize the different clothes they wore each morning, the small differences in their hair, how they walked or moved around but nothing worked.

One day when they were in the car on the way home from school, Tommy was pouting, or ‘stewing’, as Phil would say. He barely talked the whole ride home.

“Alright I’ll bite,” Wilbur said, turning around in the front seat, “What’s wrong?”

Tommy frowned at him, “You both completely ignored me all day! I tried to get your attention so many times!”

Techno raised an eyebrow, “I never once heard you call my name,”

“Me either,” Wilbur confirmed, Tommy looked skeptical.

“How do I know that you guys aren’t messing with me?”

“He’s got you guys there,” Phil said from the driver's seat.

“We weren’t ignoring him! I swear, you must have gotten us mixed up again!” Wilbur insisted, waving his hand.

Tommy groaned, “Why is it so hard to tell you guys apart! Hey, could you just make it easier and not be identical twins?”

Phil cackled in the front, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

“It-It doesn’t work like that Tommy,” Techno snorted, half covering his mouth with his hand.

“Oh come on! Just try it!”

Tommy was trying, he really was, but it was so hard to tell them apart. He knew Wilbur’s hair was crazier and he was Taller then Techno and that Techno had glasses but it didn’t help at all.

He’d go to ask Techno for help with homework only to find Wilbur, who also didn’t know jackshit about algerbra, or if he wanted to do something stupid he’d end up accidentally telling his plan to Techno who would immediately veto the idea.

After awhile he just decided to just try and slow down and see if one of the clones had glasses or not and that worked for him, sort of.

A few months later and they officially adopted Tommy into the family, he was an official Wingraft.

They went out and celebrated, laughing and making stupid jokes, it was nice. Then the next day Techno went to the store by himself, taking some of the money he had saved up from chores and searched a bottle of pink hair dye.

Picking out a color was surprisingly difficult, there were so many choices, taffy, bubblegum, creamy, carnation, but he eventually decided on ‘Rose Pink’. He bought a bottle then hid it under his bed, he needed to wait for the right time to do it because the dye had to sit for at least 30 minutes before he could rinse it out.

Phil was working late on Wednesday and Wilbur was going to see a movie with friends after school so he just had to lock Tommy out of the bathroom for like 45 minutes, which he would have no problem doing, and everything would be set.

The day rolled around and he found out that dying your hair is easier said then done, so much easier.

Techno set down so many paper towels in hopes to catch anything that might drip, then there was the process of making sure he got it all and wearing the plastic gloves made everything much harder to handle but eventually he was able to get the dye in place.

He set a timer on his phone then pulled out a book, hoping Tommy wouldn’t try to bust down the door, it didn’t lock but Techno had taken a rubber band from the door handle and wrapped it around the facut to try and give some semblance of a lock. All he had to do was wait.

Tommy was sitting on the couch watching TV when Phil arrived home, Wilbur in tow.

“Hey Tommy, how was your day?”

“Pretty good, nothing really interesting happened though,” He responded, “But Techno has been in the bathroom for like an hour,”

Wilbur raised an eyebrow and Phil asked, “Is he okay?”

“I guess so, I heard the shower running just a minute ago,”

Phil walked over to the bathroom door and knocked, “Tech? You okay in there?”

Tommy heard the door swing open and Techno say, “Yeah I’m fine,” Phil didn’t say anything but Wilbur started laughing loudly, throwing his head back. Tommy turned around on the couch and saw Techno standing there, towel around his shoulders to stop water from dripping onto his shirt, hair the brightest shade of pink Tommy had ever seen.

He froze, much like Phil did, before he broke out into a grin, then a laugh, “Techno what-”

“Now you should be able to tell us apart,”

[nationalharryleague]

Dance it Out

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: FLUFF

Word count: 1.7K

A/N: I decided to write a self indulgent fluffy fic after I had a bad day! It’s not my favorite thing I’ve ever written but I like it and I hope you do too :) let me know what you think! Any feedback is appreciated!! More of my work can be found in my masterlist!

Today was terrible.

You had woken up on the wrong side of the bed and everything afterwards was downhill. The zipper on your favorite pair of pants broke, then your car wouldn’t start, you got yelled at by your boss at work, and when you decided to treat yourself to a latte on the way home, it was made with spoiled milk. It just wasn’t your day.

Walking in your house, you immediately kicked off your heels and began ripping off your uncomfortable work clothes, stomping past Harry on the couch and up the stairs towards your shared bedroom. You heard him sarcastically call ‘Welcome home, honey,’ behind you but you were just too angry at the world to answer. And unfortunately for Harry, he happened to be in the world. 

Once in your room, your eyes narrowed on the spot where you left your favorite t-shirt of Harry’s that you changed out of this morning, only to find it empty. A whiny pout found its way to your lips and you searched around the room until you noticed it in a pile of freshly washed and folded clothes on the dresser. While you understood your loving boyfriend was just trying to stay on top of the household chores, he had washed the smell of his cologne out of the fabric and you wondered if it would ever smell the same again.

After raiding Harry’s closet to find something else comfy enough to wear, you crawled into your bed. You didn’t even realize you were crying, only noticing when you felt the fabric of your pillowcase get soggy.

You felt like a child throwing a temper tantrum and you hated it. You should be able to roll with the punches of daily life like an adult and get over yourself, but today just got to you more than you expected. You felt defeated and down and wished you could start again.

“My love,” you heard sing-songed in your direction from down the hallway, “where are ya?” He rounded the corner to find you under a pile of blankets and with mascara beginning to run down your face. He stopped in his tracks, concern flashing across his eyes. “What’s going on?” he asked, worry and care clear in his voice.

“I’ve just had a very bad day,” you whimpered to the man sitting on the edge of the bed. You held the sheets tight to your chest, making you only visible from the nose up, and sank into the bed in an attempt to hide from the world. Harry reached out and smoothed a hand over your forehead, combing a few stray strands away from your face. His warm hands were welcome.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly, met with the shake of your head. He scanned the small amount of your face he could see and was met with tired eyes. “Do you want to cuddle?” Once again, he was met with a small shake to your head. This worried him; you were not known to deny an opportunity to be the little spoon. “I’m going to make us some tea and then we’re going to figure out what we can do to make today better, okay?” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and pushed himself off the bed.

As you watched Harry leave the room, your deliriously exhausted eyes welled with tears thinking about how good he was to you. He was a dream. You had met by chance in a bar several years ago when you were far too intoxicated for your own good. You had made a complete fool out of yourself and yet somehow he thought it was charming, eventually asking for your number. You were still shocked that you didn’t scare him off when you slurred ‘Harry fucking Styles, I had a blog about you, ya know?’ in his face. You had been a massive One Direction fan in your teens and you still couldn’t believe he was yours most days. Your teenage dreams had come true and you loved every second of it.

Please come downstairs. We both know you’ll spill tea in the bed., your phone read. When you took a moment to respond, it was followed by a gif of Kermit the Frog sipping tea. You appreciated his attempt at a meme reference, even if it was years old.  While you were slightly offended that he thought you’d spill, you knew he was right and mustered all your strength to drag yourself from your warm pile of blankets. You crossed your arms in front of you and made your way down the stairs into the living room, grabbing a new blanket off the back of the couch and creating another cocoon.

You watched as he walked out of the kitchen, his eyebrows furrowed, focusing on carefully balancing your two mugs before setting them on the coffee table. He murmured ‘I’ll be right back’ against your forehead and exited the room once again. You wondered where he was going and pouted that you didn’t get a hug yet. As soon as you heard it, you immediately knew what he was doing.

The first few chords played over the speakers in your living room were immediately recognizable and brought you back to your childhood bedroom, twirling around the room shouting One Direction at the top of your lungs. As the introduction to 18 began, your cheeky boyfriend appeared back in the room, wearing his best grin. You rolled your eyes at him as he pranced around the house, putting on a living room performance for you. You had watched him so many times at concerts, but they had all been on his own, singing his own solo music.

He didn’t really ever talk about One Direction much. When you asked questions, he answered them, but he never brought it up on his own. He regarded it as a chapter of his life that he was thankful for, but that had ended. But he also knew that One Direction was your comfort music, and it usually could get you out of a bad mood.

“I have loved you since we were 18,” he sang, standing on top of the new and expensive coffee table. While you wanted to scold him and get off, you also didn’t want to stop watching how he wiggled his hips too soon.

“You’re older than me and we met when I was 24.”

“Okay Miss Buzzkill,” he put his hands up in surrender, feigning offence. “I guess I need the big guns,” he laughed, taking out his phone and switching to another song you knew by heart.

The guitar riff of Clouds started, balring over the stereo, and so did Harry’s dancing. You watched him as he jumped off the coffee table, almost fell, and then began hip trusting to the beat. You couldn’t help but laugh at the man before you, trying to disguise your joy, too stubborn to give into his tactics so easily.

“I see that smile!” he pointed at you accusingly as he continued to jump around the room, dodging furniture as he went. “I know this is working!”

“No it’s not,” you smirked defiantly. “Everything is awful and I refuse to be happy,” you said crossing your arms in front of you.

With a dramatic eye roll, Harry pulled his phone out to change the song once again, this time to Where Do Broken Hearts Go, your ultimate favorite song. He knew this and he knew exactly what he was doing by the look of the smirk that found its way onto his face. He peered up at you from the device in his hands, eyebrows raised looking for your response. An exasperated ‘fine’ left your lips as you lifted yourself off of the couch to join him in his dance party.

You made your way over to him and fell into his strong arms, laying your head on his chest as you two began an awkward slow dance to the high energy music. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple and started to speak softly, just audible above the music, in your ear.

“Angel, I know you’ve had a tough day,” he began, lips still brushing over your skin, nose buried in your hair, “but we can still make tonight a good night.” You bodies rocked back and forth in sync together, swaying to another beat only you two could feel, completely disregarding the music playing around you. You looked up into this soft and questioning eyes, and nodded, hoping to turn your day around.

This was a Harry only you knew; his hair held back by one of your hair clips, dressed in a tattered old t-shirt he refused to replace and running shorts, the stubble of a few days at home found on his chin. The rest of the world got the rockstar in head-to-toe Gucci and glamour, and sometimes you did too, but this was Harry. This was who your man really was.

Taking you hand, he twirled you in a circle, a small grin breaking onto your face. It felt like it was the first time you had really smiled that day, a feeling of peace finally taking over you. With a deep breath, you decided to start anew.

“I need you to play Treat People With Kindness and dance it out with me,” you told him, ready to get out of your funk.

“There’s my girl,” he lit up, pressing kisses around your face as he changed the song.

Hearing the angelic voices of the chorus envelop you, you began to dance, Harry mirroring your movement. You closed your eyes and let your head fall back, letting go, and moving your body however felt good. Arms swung in whatever direction they felt like and you bounced up and down the rhythm.  And you both just danced; singing along with the music you both knew by heart and experiencing every emotion Harry intended listeners to feel.

By the final beats, a big cheesy grin stretched across your lips and you let out a few breathless giggles as the song ended. You both collapsed on the couch in a fit of laughter and you rolled into his slightly sweaty body, finding yourself right at home within his arms.

“Thank you,” you told him as you rested your head on his chest, “I needed to get it all out.”

“I figured my angelic voice would help.”

Thank you for reading!! My ask box is open for any feedback you have :)

[yugirl]

Day 7: “Ojama Delta Thunder!!”

That’s right! You know what today is! Today we celebrate The Chazz, the one and only Manjoume Thunder! Give sparky boi a hug!

((ok, context!! Bastion has been possessed by the light of destruction and is the villain of season 2. Anyway, it’s Chazz’s time to be a hero!))

@gxmonth

Chazz couldn’t accept this… He knew it was true, but he refused to acknowledge it.

Bastion had become the new leader of the Society of Light! and it was all his fault!

Brainwashed or not, he was the one who duelled Bastion into submission… he had to make amends somehow, but how.

Jaden stood before him, getting ready to duel the self-proclaimed “King of the Light”, a wounded Aster and Syrus watching helplessly.

Hassleberry had gone to find a way to stop the satellite, and Chazz was stuck like a deer in the headlights.

“Chazz… I don’t know what to do… there’s no way Bastion will listen to me anymore!”

Chazz agreed. Bastion had stopped listening to both of them long ago.

“You’ve taken everything from me, Jaden Yuki! And now I’m going to do the same….”

Wait! Bastion was not listening to them, but there was someone he would ALWAYS listen to…

“Jaden!” Chazz shouted, causing the Slifer Slacker to jump. “I have a plan! But I need your help!”

Jaden looked at the duel and back at him. “Um, I’m kinda busy right now!”

“That’s exactly what I mean! Keep duelling! Keep him busy! I have an idea of what to do! Can you keep this up?”

Jaden paused to think but nodded. “I can! Do what you have to, Chazz! I trust you!”

Chazz nodded solemnly before bolting off. He needed two players for his plan.

Conveniently they were outside helping Chancellor Shepherd and the Pilot out of the crashed helicopter.

“Alexis! Atticus!!” Chazz gasped as he ran towards them. “I need your help!!”

“Chazz!?” Alexis asked, confused. “I thought you were helping Jaden stop Bastion!”

“I am, but I can’t do this alone!!” He huffed as he managed to get some air. “I need to know! Can either of you play the piano?”

“I prefer my guitar, but I can” Atticus shrugged.

“Clair de Lune?”

“Oddly specific, but yeah, I can!” Atticus nods.

“Ok, and Alexis, how well do you know how to use the PA system?” knowing full well as a member of the student council, she was in charge of morning announcements.

“Pretty well, honestly. What’s going on, Chazz.”

“There’s only one person who can stop Bastion, and I need you to help me get her here!” Chazz huffed before getting up. “Alexis, head to the Broadcast room. I’ll meet you there! Atticus, I need you to break into the Obelisk White dorms and get to the piano. When you hear a woman’s voice over the PA system, start playing Clair De Lune.”

“I don’t know what you’re planning, but sure!” Atticus nods and makes his way to the white dorms, Chazz running elsewhere.

“Wait, where are you going, Chazz?” Alexis called out.

“I need to grab something from my room! You have to trust me!!”

Alexis hesitated, but if it would help Jaden and stop Bastion, she would do what was asked.

Atticus managed to get into the white dorms quite quickly. Clearly, the Light of Destruction had no more use for his little cult.

The musician grabbed some sheet music from his old dorm room and headed to the piano, waiting for the signal.

Chazz had finally made it to the Slifer dorms. Gasping for breath, he staggered to his room and opened the draw to his bedside table, where an old VHS tape was waiting for him.

He remembered when Bastion tossed the VHS tape to him. It was old and worn with “For Bastion” written in excellent handwriting.

“Keep it! I have no further use for it. I’m done mourning the past.” He muttered.

“Sorry Bastion…. But the past isn’t done with you….”

Getting his strength back, he ran back to the academy. He just had to make it to the broadcast room. Just hold on, Jaden! I’m almost there!

Once he got to the broadcast room, he was exhausted. His head and heart were pounding, and he could barely speak.

“Chazz, are you ok?” Alexis asked in a panic.

“I-I’m fine! Don’t worry about me! We need to broadcast the audio on this tape!”

“Oh geez, I haven’t hooked up a VHS tape in a while!” Alexis muttered. “Give me a minute I’ll work it out!”

She took some time unplugging and replugging chords, but after the test, it was ready. “Ok, Chazz! Do what you need to.”

Chazz had just put the VHS in when all of a sudden, the power went out.

“No! No! No! NO!!” Chazz shouted in panic. He had to get this plan to work!! Otherwise, he failed everyone! Especially the Ra student he saw as his best friend.

He shook his head. No, he can’t give up yet! He had to do something….

That’s it!

He trembles with rage, charging up, building energy.

“You think you can foil my plans at the last minute? Huh? You stupid alien lightbulb!? Well, guess again!! You messed with my friends!! And you messed with me!! You’re going to regret ever meeting Chazz Princeton…. BECAUSE I’M GONNA CHAZZ YOU UP!!!”

The lightning bolts struck the school, and like that, the power was restored.

“Alexis now!!”

Alexis hit the play button on the tape.

“Let’s end this pathetic duel once and for all, Jaden! I s-“

“Bastion…”

That’s when he heard her voice…. And then Clair de Lune started playing, echoing through the obelisk white dorms.

Jaden had no idea what was going on. It was an audio of some woman talking to Bastion.

Syrus was confused too.

“What’s going on?”

“Hey, look over there!” Aster pointed. The small Ra student looked over to where the King of Light stood… while his posture hadn’t changed drastically… this voice made him falter.

“Talk to your son, Ms Misawa….” Chazz whispered. “I know he’ll listen to you….”

[browniefox]

Poker Playing Family Time

@wrightfamilyweek day 6 - Routine.

The Wrights enjoy some bonding time at the Borscht Bowl Club. Can also be read on AO3 right here :)

oOo

It’s kind of a miracle that, despite it all - despite Daddy working five days a week at the Borscht Bowl Club and the other two with his Secret Project, and then Trucy (once again, in the new school year) trying to do a single show every-other weekend and then school on the weekdays - that there’s still ever a chance for Trucy to help Daddy out with his poker games.

Daddy has made some kind of deal with the Borscht Bowl Club over the years so that he’ll only take on the more serious poker players once a month; a saturday evening, the last of the month, when Trucy didn’t have a show. Trucy was more than willing to move around her schedule at the Wonder Bar as she needed to go with Daddy on those days. Daddy had told the staff he just liked bringing his daughter with him, his good luck charm. It was normal, after all these years, and none of the staff nor the usuals so much as blinked anymore at her trailing after him.

Usually, Daddy drives places now, but on Big Poker Nights, when he’s with Trucy, they walk from the office to the club. They leave right after Trucy gets home from school, walking down the street, chatting about Trucy’s school day and the bits and pieces of Daddy’s Secret Mission he’s willing or able to tell her. She rattles off the countries in the North American continent with Daddy checking her answers on the practice sheet. When she’s done, Daddy complains about annoying people he’s had to meet with or talk to - never by name - and practices a heavily-edited version of some speech with each recital of it getting goofier and goofier until they’re both laughing as they walk through the club doors, out of the warm sun and into the cold.

“Evening Phoenix, Truce,” Ms. Vanessa greets them, and Daddy makes a token effort to quiet down his laughter, “There’s an early competitor tonight. I know you don’t like other challengers on the big-shot nights, but he’s dumb and paid top dollar, so how could we say no?”

“Well, I suppose a warm-up can’t hurt,” Daddy shrugs. He looks over at Trucy, eyes half-lidded, his performance appearance in place since they left home. He nods over to the Hydeout, “You want to watch this one too, or stay up here and work on homework?”

“I’ll come along, Daddy!” Trucy chirps.

“Alright then, right this way, Wrights.” Vanessa bows comically low and leads them to the poker room. They pass by the piano on the way, and Trucy’s backpack is place on top of it. She waves to the staff and they all wave back, most of them smiling at seeing her. Daddy has said they like her more than they like him, and he’s right.

After all the times she’s been down there, Trucy could find her way to the Hydeout in the dark, which she kind of always does every time, considering the dim lighting on the stairs.

“He talked a big game when he showed up earlier today.” Vanessa says to Daddy, and he nods.

“So you’re throwing me a soft ball to start with tonight, huh?”

“Now, you of all people should know better than to assume anything about an opponent before you see them.” Vanessa half-heartedly reprimands.

“But Daddy’s gonna blow him out of the water, huh?” Trucy says and gets a chuckle from Vanessa.

“Yeah, he probably will.”

The dealer stands during the poker games, but Trucy’s extra chair is already down here. Like the other two, it’s a swivel chair, and she hops into it and twirls around a few times.

“I thought I was going up against Phoenix Wright, unbeaten Poker Champion, not some kid.” The man who’s already sitting at the table sniffs, and Daddy finally comes in through the door.

“Sorry, but these days Phoenix Wright’s also a full-time dad, I hope you can pardon my little darling being here.” It’s worded like an apology, but it’s clear that Daddy is absolutely not at all sorry about it. Trucy smiles innocently, like a perfect angel, and the man turns up his nose with a sniff and a ‘hmph’. Ah, so he’s going to be one of those guys.

“Really, letting a kid in here? Your own daughter? Well, ‘darling’, I hope you like watching your dear old dad’s reputation come to an end.” The man brags. Daddy just blinks slowly at the man, unimpressed, while Vanessa rolls her eyes and takes her place at the side of the table. Trucy rolls her chair to be next to Daddy and he ruffles her hair.

“Mr. Allen, Mr. Wright, are you both ready?” Vanessa asks, and the game starts after they both nod.

Trucy mostly keeps her eyes closed. Slipping into her tell-catching ‘mode’ comes so easily at this poker table, but she needs to be on her top form for the real competitor later tonight. She listens as the cards are shuffled, as soothing and familiar as the sound of rain, and then are dealt out. She half-listens to the match as she leans against her daddy. She opens her eyes every-so-often, mostly to see where the chips are standing at the moment. Trucy catches some of Mr. Allen’s tells, big and noticeable movements most of the time that there’s absolutely no way Daddy misses.

It ends with Mr. Allen angrily flipping the table over and spitting vulgarities at Daddy while he cover’s Trucy’s ears, even though they both know she’/ already heard all those words.

“Well he seemed nice,” Daddy jokes and Trucy giggles, “Alright, let’s get some borscht, yeah?”

They spend the next four hours on the piano. Trucy is allowed - encouraged, even - to plunk around on the instrument whenever and however it suits her fancy. A small stack of extra cash grows next to him from people who refuse to listen to her daddy’s terrible music while eating. Trucy gets some homework done, taking up nearly the entire table next to Daddy that they’d used to eat dinner. As Trucy makes her way through worksheet after worksheet, the staff member on the other side of the table cycles through whoever is best at the subject. Math homework is always fun, because it always creates a whole crew of people ignoring the tables they’re supposed to be waiting and the jobs they’re supposed to be doing as they try to solve the equations. Not that Trucy usually needs all that help, but they seem to like to try either way.

You can always tell the moment when the big, important player enters the building. The staff suddenly stand up straight, all eyes on the person, ready to wait on that person like a king. Daddy gets tense, but that kind of tension nobody but Trucy ever seems to notice.

This time, it’s a large woman with a long braid of colored hair. She looks around the club with a sort of honest curiosity that’s hard to come by with people like her, and when she spots Daddy at the piano, the woman smiles and comes right over.

“Oh, Phoenix Wright! Oh my, the legend himself, in the flesh! Well, I thought I’d never be here, but here I am, and there you are! Oh, right at the piano, just like they said you’d be! You can’t play, right? Or is it ‘Wright’? Hehe, do you get it?” The woman chuckles at her own pun. Daddy gives a shrug.

“I hope you didn’t come with too many expectations. Rumors have a way of getting a little out of hand.” Daddy says. Daddy never tells his challengers how true the undefeated poker champion title really is.

“Well, I mean, six years undefeated? It’s a little much to try and sell, huh?” The woman winks at Daddy and laughs again.

“Has it really been six years already. Ah, time, you cruel cruel mistress,” Daddy mourns, playing a chord on the piano. By now Vanessa has come over, and Daddy stands up, slouching with his hands in his hoodie pocket, “Well, Ms. Jackie, shall we get this show on the road?”

“Oh, of course, of course. I mean, I’ll probably stay around and try the food afterwards - do they really only have borscht here? I’ve never had it. Is it any good? What does it taste like? - but I mean, why stall? I’m so excited to see the legendary Wright in action.” Ms. Jackie rambles on as Daddy and Vanessa slowly start to head towards the Hydeout for the second time that night. Ms. Jackie walks right next to Daddy, talking about how she’s from out of state and so very excited when she heard the rumors - undefeated! Six years! How remarkable! How insane! How intriguing! - and now she was here and she was so very very excited.

It isn’t until both Daddy and Ms. Jackie have taken their seats that Ms. Jackie seems to even notice Trucy as she takes her own, the chair already right next to Daddy.

“Oh, and who is this little angel?! Oh my, isn’t she just precious with her little cape!” Ms. Jackie coos to Trucy.

“I’m Trucy Wright. I like watching my daddy play poker. I hope that’s okay.” Trucy tilts her head and smiles sweetly. Ms. Jackie practically melts.

“Ooooh, how sweeeeet! Well, I’m Jackie Blackerly, sweetie.” Jackie reaches across the table and Trucy shakes her hand kindly. She likes Jackie, she decides. But liking the opponent has nothing to do with the poker match itself, unfortunately, and Trucy doesn’t tell Jackie that she’s well out of her league. Maybe Daddy holds the champion title, but they both know that it’s really Trucy who never loses against the high-ranking opponents.

“Is it okay if I sit here? I’m Daddy’s good luck charm, you know.” Trucy tilts her head.

“Oh of course, of course! Oh my, nobody ever mentioned Mr. Wright has such an adorable daughter!”

“Are you both ready to start?” Vanessa asks. The cards are beyond well shuffled by now. Daddy nods, and then just like that, the warm and pleasant emotions disappear from Jackie’s face, like they’ve just been shut off, a blank mask over them.

“I’m ready.”

The cards are dealt, Trucy’s hand wraps around her Daddy’s arm, and just like that, the game, the tells, the truth, everything just slips into focus. She’s done this hundreds of times now, the world almost moving at a crawl to watch the little twitches and microexpressions. The code for telling Daddy what to do, a squeezing of his arm for different amount of times, is simple enough, and basically muscle-memory. Part of Trucy thinks she’d actually struggle a bit to do poker on her own and forget that she’s the one who’s supposed to actually be making the decisions and playing the round, not just delivering the information. She’s played this team version of the game many many more times than she’s ever played it ‘normally’.

Their winning the game is practically inevitable, but to be fair to Jackie, she clearly knows what she’s doing as well. Her tells are subtle, small, and take Trucy a lot of focus to find.

It’s a shame, really. Trucy had been hoping to maybe talk some more with Jackie after the game, but tonight is not going to be one of those. Already, Trucy’s head is pounding like the beating of a drum, feeling drained from the hard work. She curls up in her chair as the results are called, pretending she’s a little girl who is just tired and sleepy instead of someone trying to block out the sound of Jackie congratulating Daddy. Her chattiness, something Trucy had found fun and endearing, is now the last thing Trucy needs. Jackie heads up while Vanessa cleans up the cards and Daddy gently rubs Trucy’s back.

“How you doing, kiddo?” Daddy whispers. Trucy shakes her head. She feels him shift next to her, and then him saying, “Vanessa, think Trucy and I are gonna head out now.”

“Poor kids all tired again, huh?” Vanessa says. With her eyes closed, Trucy can’t see any tells or anything, but sometimes she wonders if Vanessa has caught on to their little trick here, “I’ll finish up here, get the kid back home and in bed.”

“Thank you, Ms. Vanessa.” Trucy says, making an effort to open her eyes up, the dim lighting of the Hydeout not yet searing with the migraine still in its early stages.  Daddy slips his hand into Trucy’s, and together they go back up to the bar.

Trucy makes a token effort to help Daddy get her homework together from where it’s strewn out all over the table. Ms. Jackie comes over and is saying something, a lot of ‘Oh, are you leaving already? Oh my I was just amazed, you were amazing down there! Have you always been a poker player? Now that I’m thinking, you look sort of familiar. Have I seen you somewhere?’ And Daddy says ‘Haha, yeah, gotta get my little Trucy to bed, you know. You clearly know what you’re doing. Nah, but I’ve always been great at bluffing. Must be your imagination, I’m nobody important.’

She sneaks a peak at Daddy at that moment and sees his little tell, looking down with his eyes shielded by his hat, a sort of melancholy smirk marring his face, a little twitch of his fingers. He’s lying. He was somebody important; maybe not in the big grand scheme, maybe not a world-famous magician, but he was important to some people. Trucy wants to say “you’re my Daddy, you’re important to me,” but the pain in her head spikes and she squeezes her eyes shut again.

After a moment, Daddy grabs her hand again, and she keeps her eyes closed as he leads her out of the white and annoying noise of the bar and out onto the street. It’s still warm, even at night, and she realizes she forgot to grab a grape-juice bottle. Daddy seems to notice the same thing, letting go and telling her to wait there as he runs back inside.

He’s back in a second, the cold bottle pressed into Trucy’s hand, and she puts it against her forehead as they walk. It’s beautifully numbing to the pain there, and she zones out, focusing on the feeling as they walk down the street, completely silently this time, back to the office.

Recently, after so much practice, Trucy’s been getting better. She doesn’t always have a migraine after games, especially against the easier players. But Ms. Jackie had been good, and so Trucy is tired again. She wonders if her grandpa would’ve been able to teach her how to do this without getting a headache if he was still alive, he always seemed to understand Trucy’s little trick, but there is no way to know now.

When they get to the office, Trucy goes right to her room. The blinds were already closed earlier, before they left, just in case, and the curtains are closed to further block out any of the last beams of light. Her room is almost pitch-black. Daddy takes the bottle from her and hands her the little rice-filled frog they keep in the freezer, and the froggy friend rests on her forehead. Some medicine and a glass of water is placed in her bedside table, and she makes an effort to take it. It doesn’t always help, but sometimes it does something.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Truce.” Daddy whispers. Trucy cracks her eyes open, and from the light of the open door just barely catches Daddy blowing her a kiss.

She’s happy she’s able to help Daddy. She doesn’t care if she gets a terrible headache from it, because he’ll take care of her until it’s over, and even through the pain, she can’t wait to spend time with him again next month.

[kairoscelrosis]

Ocean Eyes - A Leonard “Bones” McCoy x Reader Fic

Series: Star Trek TOS

Pairings: Leonard “Bones” McCoy x Reader, Implied Spirk

Characters: Reader, Leonard “Bones” McCoy, James T Kirk, Spock, Montgomery Scotty, Nyota Uhura

Trigger Warnings: No triggers apply. 

Word Count: 5,202 words

Author’s Note:

This is my first fic! It has a small amount of fluff, but its mainly full of a plot revolving around the two mentioned relationships. 

You can also find this fic on Wattpad. 

Summary:

Y/N is confused about her feelings for Dr. McCoy. When Spock and Kirk come to know, they devise a fantabulous plan to bring both of them together. 

I was lying down on my bed in a darkened room. Thoughts wandered, but always stopped on one thing. Rather, on one person. It’s weird. I had always liked him a lot – platonically, of course. This was different. “What the hell?”, I said out loud. But that didn’t help the storm raging in my mind. My alarm beeped. 1530 hours. “Damn.” I huffed, got changed, and left for the Bridge. My eight-hour shift was about to begin.

______________________________________________________________

On the bridge

“Captain.”, I said in a confident, but tired voice. “Lieutenant Y/L/N reporting for Beta Shift.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” Kirk replied without looking towards me. “Please report to Mr. Spock for this shift’s agenda. You will be taking over from him for the Beta shift.”

I walked over to Mr. Spock’s science station. “Commander Spock. Lieutenant Y/L/N reporting.” His head bobbed in a small greeting.

Spock and I had known each other since my academy days when he was my professor for most subjects. He was my role model and mentor, and I wanted to follow in his footsteps. He was also my closest friend on the ship.

After briefing me with the progress he had made on the current star charting assignment and about his inferences on the nearby nebula, Spock walked over to Kirk, and whispered something. Kirk nodded and said, “Please continue with our research assignments. Mr. Sulu, you have the conn. I’ll be in my quarters.”

  ______________________________________________________________  

Spock’s POV

After filling in Y/N, I walked over to the Captain and quietly said, “Captain, I would like to speak with you.” He nodded, gave his usual orders, and both of us left the bridge for his quarters.

Once in the sanctuary of his quarters, the Captain turned to me, and asked, “What is it, Mr. Spock? You seem concerned.”

I replied in the affirmative, and said, “My concern is for Lieutenant Y/L/N, sir. She seems to be ‘out of her elements’, as would be expressed in Terran colloquial.”

The Captain offered a small, though rueful smile at this. “I agree with you Mr. Spock. She is not one of the outspoken ones, but she does seem a bit… subdued. Perhaps we should ask her what the problem is?”

“Perhaps. Though I have another suggestion sir. We are going to take a short shore leave on Star Base 12 in a few hours. Why not relieve Lieutenant Y/L/N early from her Beta shift so that she can recuperate and make the most out of this shore leave?”

“Yes Mr. Spock. An excellent idea. Anyhow, we take shore leaves only once in a blue moon, so why not allow her to rest a bit before going back out into the dark. I believe we will establish orbit around Star Base 12 by 1800 hours. I myself will relieve her at 1830 hours. Thank you for bringing this to my notice Mr. Spock.”

“My pleasure.”

______________________________________________________________

A few hours later…

Y/N’s POV

After several attempts to refuse an early shore leave and in complete denial of any need of this favour, I had finally beamed down onto Star Base 12.

Along with Scotty.

You might wonder why I was accompanied by the Chief Engineer. That was because of my resistance to go down. Kirk had asked Scotty to accompany me so that I did not sneak back onto the ship. I sighed inwardly.

Wanting to make the most of this time, I asked Scotty to come along with me to a street market. I loved the vibe of street markets – the dim lights, the muffled voices, walking around – it was the perfect ambience to relax.

“Hey Scotty! Come on!” I turned and called to Scotty, who was dragging his feet like a bored teenager. “Ach lass! I didn’t know that I’d have to babysit ya today. I wanted to go to the bar.” He moaned.

“Okay, okay, Lieutenant Commander Scott. Lieutenant Y/L/N will not hold you for long. Come, roam around with me for a while, and then we’ll both go to the bar.”

His face lit up like that of a child on Christmas morning. After that, there was a certain bounce in his step, not stalling anymore.

While scanning the stalls, I saw a small, wooden stringed instrument which piqued my interest. Picking it up gingerly, I held it in my hands. It felt right.

“Ah lass! What are ya doing with a ukulele?”

“You know the name of this instrument?” The shopkeeper asked, visibly surprised.

“Yes of course! My gran used to play this really well. She got it as an heirloom from her mother, who got it from her mother.”

I strummed the strings of the ukulele tentatively. A beautiful sound, though not very melodious, emerged.

“Can I buy this? It’s beautiful.”

The shopkeeper smiled, “You have really good taste. I can see you play this beautifully. That will be ten credits. If you want, I can teach this to you as well.” Her offer seemed genuine.

“Thank you so much!”

  ______________________________________________________________

At the bar

I let an evil grin emerge. Scotty had his head down. I had known his weakness, and now I had the chance to escape.

Well, escape is a strong word, but I had been forced to come down – so it was justified.

I had just drunk a glass of iced tea, not preferring to be hungover the next morning. I had never really liked drinking anyway.

As I was sneaking out of the bar, I saw HIM coming in. My heart immediately jumped into my mouth, beating like crazy. I hid behind the table where an employee was granting entry to the guests. He gave me a weird look but did nothing about me being there.

Once certain that HE was gone, I brushed my clothes, held my head high and started to walk towards the door, when I heard someone call me, and I froze.

“Y/N? Whatcha doin’ here? I thought ya didn’t drink.” The southern drawl rolling smoothly off his tongue.

“H-Hey Doc. Yeah, I don’t drink. I was just giving Scotty some company. I’m going back to my room now.”

“’Kay, great! Have a nice evening.” He sauntered away to where Scotty lay knocked out.

This was getting harder day by day.

______________________________________________________________

The next morning

I was back in my quarters on the Enterprise. Last night had been great, though I won’t admit this to anyone.

After encountering Bones at the bar, I had gone to the shopkeeper who had sold me the ukulele, and I sat there till late at night, learning the basics. I picked up the chords pretty quickly and was onto my first song by midnight. The street shops were open till 2 in the morning, and the shopkeeper seemed keen on teaching me, so I figured why not learn as much as I could.

She told me she had many copies (yes, actual paper copies!) of songs. She called them scores or sheet music. She gave me all the copies of scores she possessed, and I was so grateful!

Rand smuggled me back onto the ship by manning the transporter. She was going down in a while and didn’t mind disobeying Kirk.

The clock flashed 0800 hours as I was snapped out of my thoughts about the previous night. I wanted to utilize the rest of my shore leave efficiently. I got up, showered, and walked to the replicator. When nothing came out even after swiping the card multiple times, I let a sigh out and decided that I’d have to go to the mess.

I swaggered along the deserted decks and corridors of the ship, making no effort to conceal myself. Most people were down on the planet, including the two I wanted to avoid.

Walking into the mess, I ordered popcorn (weird choice, I know) and sat down. Spock, who had entered the mess just after me, slid into the seat opposite me, both of us falling into a comfortable silence. We often had our breakfast together. I was one of the people closest to Spock.

Putting down the Vulcan equivalent of an apple, Spock looked at me and asked, “How are you Y/N? You seemed extremely sombre yesterday. That is unlike you.”

The corner of my mouth lifted slightly at his concern. “I am fine.” I replied. “I guess the work got to me. Yesterday was a nice break.” So much for not telling anyone, I thought, amused. “I don’t think Kirk thought of relieving me early yesterday. Someone else was behind that move.” I gave a teasing grin. Spock’s eyes crinkled in a semblance of a grin.

Once done with our respective meals, I said, “Come to my quarters tonight, Spock. I’ll tell you about my evening and you can tell me about yours. Maybe I’ll even play you something. Bring your lyre as well. I wanna hear you play it.”

Spock bobbed his head, confirming that he’d be there.

  ______________________________________________________________

That evening

I heard knocking at the door. “Come in.” Spock walked in with his Vulcan lyre in hand. I gave him a smile.

Though my quarters were small, I had made enough space for us to sit comfortably, without invading each other’s space. He sat down on the straight backed, cushioned seat which he preferred, and I pulled my desk chair to sit on.

We talked about the events of last night, me reciting everything other than the event when I ran into the Doc (that incident was kept to myself for the time being). Spock told how he had done some work in the science lab, read a book, and practiced playing the lyre (though he didn’t need any).  

“You said that you were going to play for me?” It was more a request than a question. “Yeah.”, I replied. “I bought this old Terran stringed instrument called the ukulele yesterday, and the lady who sold it to me taught me how to read sheet music and also helped me play my first song. It’s “Ocean Eyes” by Billie Eilish from 2016. I’ve heard it before. You wanna hear it?”

Spock lifted his eyebrows in classic Spock fashion, essaying his agreement.

I rarely sang, but when I did, it was only in the privacy of my own quarters. Spock had heard me sing, though not very often.

I started strumming, trying to pick the beat from where I had to start the vocal.

I've been watchin' you for some time Can't stop starin' at those ocean eyes Burning cities and napalm skies Fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes Your ocean eyes.

No fair You really know how to make me cry When you gimme those ocean eyes I'm scared I've never fallen fro…

 I faltered. Spock nodded, his eyes intently watching, eyebrow perked. I could see something glint in his eyes but didn’t understand what it was. I resumed the strumming.

I've never fallen from quite this high                                                                Fallin' into your ocean eyes Those ocean eyes.

I've been walkin' through a world gone blind Can't stop thinkin' of your diamond mind Careful creature made friends with time He left her lonely with a diamond mind And those ocean eyes.

No fair You really know how to make me cry When you gimme those ocean eyes I'm scared I've never fallen from quite this high Fallin' into your ocean eyes Those ocean eyes.

I had been nervous, not because it was my first time playing this song in front of somebody (because I knew Spock would never disregard the importance of beginning, and subsequently growing as a person), but because this song reminded me of a certain someone. If Spock connected the dots, I don’t know what his reaction would be, and whether he would tell McCoy or Jim.

There was silence for a moment. Spock opened his mouth to say something, but then, his communicator beeped. Flipping it open, he said, “Spock here.”

Kirk’s voice cracked through. “Mr. Spock. I request you to please report to my quarters. I have an urgent matter to discuss with you.”

Spock looked at me, that glint still there. I nodded my assent and picked up his lyre from my bed and handed it to him, as he stood from his chair to leave.

I mouthed, “See you later”, and then the door shut.

Lying down on my bed, I decided that it would be best to go to sleep.

But sleep just wouldn’t come.

______________________________________________________________

Spock’s POV

I had had a nice evening with Y/N, though the lyrics of her song still perplexed me. I was reminded of someone by those lyrics, but I can’t seem to determine whom. My brain was “short-circuiting”, as Jim would say, but I was not able to put a finger on who the song pointed to. I had known Y/N long enough to know that this wasn’t just “nothing”, though that’s what she wanted me to believe.

I didn’t know what to make of Jim’s call either. He had planned to stay ashore for at least 12 more hours, but he now was aboard the ship. Though Jim’s words had been authoritative, his tone was friendly and indicated that this had nothing to do with the ship.

I knocked on the door of Jim’s quarters, and heard a small “Come in”. When I walked in, Jim was seated at his desk, his hands intertwined into a tent. “A ‘deep in thought’ position” I thought.

“Jim. Is something troubling you?” Jim looked up and gestured me to sit down. I complied. “No Spock, nothing is troubling me. It’s just, I think I know now why Y/N has been so quiet.”

I gave him a quizzical look.

“Spock, I believe you were with Y/N when I called you?” I nodded. I couldn’t understand where this was going.

“What were you doing?” One of my eyebrows lifted in confusion. Why was Jim asking that?

“Jim, I don’t think you should ask that. I think, on Earth, this is called snooping. Though you are a good friend of Y/N’s, it is my moral responsibility not to tell you anything about what she told or did in confidence.”

Jim’s eyes expressed the same warmth as his smile when I said that. “True gentleman you are, Mr. Spock. Okay, I’ll tell you why I asked that question.” My eyebrows perched higher, indicating my interest.

“I was going to Y/N’s chamber to admonish her for not following her Captain’s orders.”

My expression moved from interested to inquiring.

“I had ordered Y/N to stay on the planet for the entirety of the shore leave. However, when I went to her room at the lodging, she wasn’t there. She had told McCoy that she would be in her room. I knew where she would be – in her quarters, aboard the Enterprise. I walked to her quarters, mock-fuming, and was about to knock, when I heard her start singing.”

I opened my mouth to rebuke Jim for eavesdropping, when he interrupted, “I know Spock, but I had no intention to eavesdrop. I was just drawn to her voice and that song. I love that song.”

“Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish?”

“Yeah, that one. I was surprised that you didn’t hear me standing outside, what with your enhanced hearing.”

I paused for a moment before I spoke, staring past Jim’s shoulder, my eyes resting on his laurels. “I had been thinking about something.”

______________________________________________________________

Jim’s POV

Spock had apparently zoned out. That was a first.

“I think I can guess what you were thinking about.”

Spock’s eyebrows flew up. “Do you?” he enquired.

“Yes Spock, I think I do. And I think you do too, now. You have arrived at a conclusion, and I would like you to share it with me.”

Spock seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then turned to face me. “I think this has something to do with Dr. McCoy.” My smile turned into a grin. Spock was REALLY smart with this stuff for a person who swore by logic. Spock took this as a confirmation that he was correct.

“I assume I am correct. However, I do not fully understand.”, he remarked.

“My dear Spock, I was surprised that you inferred this much.” If Spock’s brows could go higher, they would have. “It is my hypothesis that Y/N likes Dr. McCoy, but she is in denial.” Spock’s face expressed a mixture of distaste and bewilderment. I chuckled.

“I have known Y/N since our academy days. She is slightly younger than me, but she was always a prodigy. Always top of the class. Not just with marks or grades, but with her work ethic as well. She has never been in a relationship; she never felt the need to be in one. Now, she reminds me a lot of someone I know. Maybe that’s why both of them are such good friends.” I looked at Spock. His face radiated a hint of pride.

I continued. “And now, she is faced by this overwhelming feeling, one I doubt she ever felt before. And she is uncertain, how to act on this feeling, or whether to act at all.”

Realization dawned on Spock’s visage. Then, it was replaced by dubiousness and even a hint of distaste. “But why Dr. McCoy?” he asked. I let out a hearty laugh. Everyone knew of the friendly banter between him and McCoy.

“No Jim, I am serious. I care for Y/N deeply, though not in a romantic sense. If the doctor did anything to hurt her, I would disapprove.”

By “disapprove” I knew Spock would go on a killing spree. And the first would be Bones. I grinned inwardly. This was starting to get interesting, and I now had a chance to tease Spock.

“Isn’t disapproval a human emotion?” I tried (and failed) to keep the smirk off my face.

Spock looked at me dead in the eyes. My stomach suddenly became a bottomless pit. With an intense gaze, he whispered, “Yes.”

______________________________________________________________

Bones’ POV

I was on my way to the Transporter Room when Uhura said that she had a message from Joanna. Her messages really made my day. I asked her to transfer the message to the intercom in the Transporter Room.

I walked into the transporter room, which seemed to be deserted. “Never mind”, I thought. I would have preferred to listen to the message alone, so I didn’t mind. I switched on the intercom and confirmed that I had reached the Transporter Room.

Immediately, Joanna’s message started playing.

“Hey Papa!”, her sweet voice chirped. I smiled. “I was a few light years away from Earth, so decided that why not spend my holiday on our home planet. I went to Georgia and checked on our house and the farm. Everything is in place. I am off to India to spend a week or two. I have a month before I join the Farragut as their nurse trainee. I am really excited! Tell me if the Enterprise’s schedule matches with the Farragut’s, so that we can meet soon. Love you and meet you soon!”

“Wow”, I breathed. “What an exciting young lady.” I thanked Uhura, and then typed up my message on my PADD and sent it to her. I still like sending her emails, though they were considered ancient. “Hmm.” I hummed. “Forever the sensualist.”

______________________________________________________________  

Later that evening

I was trying to find the bar where Scotty had asked me to join him, when I caught a glimpse of Y/N coming out of a bar. I had heard that she had been accompanied by Scotty onto the surface, so I started walking towards her. I heard some laughter and turned to look in the direction of the commotion. Seeing nothing of significance, I faced again towards my destination, searching for Y/N, but she had disappeared. “Weird”, I mumbled.

I stepped into the foyer and was about to enter the bar when I turned around, wondering where Y/N had gone. And there she was! I called out her name and made small talk. Then we both went our separate ways.

I spotted Scotty and hurried towards his seat. “Got started without me, huh?”, I teased. Scotty, who had had is head down, lifted it and slurred, “Why are yer cheeks red, eh McCoy? Had a swig on the ship, huh?” I knitted my eyebrows together. I hadn’t been drinking. I dismissed it to be the cold.

______________________________________________________________

A few hours later

A blinding light flashed in my eyes. “Who’s it? What’re you doin’?” I caught a glimpse of a blue shirt. It reminded me of someone.

“Y/N?”

“Bones why do you have to drink so much? You always get hungover and start hallucinating. Then I have to take care of you. Dammit, I’m a Starship captain, not a doctor.”

“Ah Jimmy boy. Take me home now, will ya?”

______________________________________________________________

The next morning

I woke up with a splitting headache. When I opened my eyes and looked around that I realized I was not in my quarters. Hell, I wasn’t even on the Enterprise.

“Shit.” I cursed softly.

“Finally, you are up, huh? I really think you could’ve given Sleeping Beauty a run for the money.”

I huffed. I knew that voice well. Maybe too well. And I knew what that meant. “I’m sorry Jim. Just got flown away with the drinking last night. I don’t even remember you picking me up.”

“I think we should stop booking an extra room for you. You always end up crashing in mine during shore leaves.”, Jim remarked sarcastically, getting up from the reading chair and putting down his PADD.

“Drink this. You’ll feel better.” He handed me a glass of lemonade.

“What, you’re gonna use my own hacks against me?”

“Shut up and drink it.”

I accepted the glass and started taking sips from it.

“You know, you said something last night which made me think a lot.”

“Well, that’s new.” I remarked with a smirk.

Jim feigned annoyance, then continued. “You know, when I came to pick you up last night, I was wearing a blue shirt.”

“Mh-hm”

“And when you saw me, you said, ‘Y/N?’. Were you expecting her or something?”

“Hmm. I don’t remember saying that actually. Maybe that was because I saw her last night before going into the bar. She was hiding from somebody, I guess. And I was surprised to even see her at a bar – she doesn’t drink, you know.”

Jim nodded. “Do you know where she went?”

“She said she was going to her room.” I said, matter-of-factly.

“’Kay.”

______________________________________________________________

That evening

Jim had left for the Enterprise – he had some work onboard. I decided that I’d roam around the markets for a while. I never was a fan of shopping, but Christine always asked me to take small memorabilia from each planet I visited for Joanna. She seemed to like it – so I didn’t mind too much.

Hands tucked behind my back, I strolled through the stalls. I came across a shop selling ancient art prints. There were abstract paintings, movie poster recreations and the like. I picked up a print of warm toned abstract art and a recreation of the Titanic poster for Joanna. Suddenly, a small necklace and bracelet caught my eye. It didn’t seem to have any lustre, but it had an aura that I was drawn to. Entranced, I asked what it was.

“It is Vokaya – a rare Vulcan jewel.” The shopkeeper said. He was Vulcan as well. So much for being in a green-hobgoblin-free zone. But really, I was mesmerised by this ornament, and ended up buying it.

Walking back to my room, I huffed. I had never been an impulsive buyer. Thinking about the peculiar feeling that had filled me, I walked down the corridor and entered my room.

And collided with someone standing straight like a rod.

I groaned. I knew who this was.

______________________________________________________________

Y/N’s POV

The next morning

I finally got out of my bed – I had barely gotten any sleep. I kept tossing and turning, thinking about my encounter with Bones last night and Spock’s reaction to me singing that song. He must have figured it out by now.

“Well – how bad can the situation get?” I murmured.

Before I could go into the washroom to get ready for the day, I heard a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

In stormed Jim Kirk – his expression unreadable.

“Captain? What happened? Is everything alright?”

“Jim, please; I’m off duty.” Sitting down on the chair where Spock had sat last night, he said, “Calm down Y/N. Nothing’s wrong. Can’t a friend come to talk to another friend when everyone else is on shore leave?” He flashed that “I am charming” smile. I rolled my eyes.

“Sit down Jim. Let me get dressed. Then we can have breakfast together in the mess.”

Jim shook his head. “I think we should eat in my quarters.”

That was new. Why did Jim want to have breakfast alone? “Okay…” I said, sounding hesitant.

Jim gave me a smile, a genuine one. “Don’t worry, Y/N. Really. It’s nothing.”

Knowing Jim for so many years had made one thing clear:

When he said, “It’s nothing.”, there really WAS something.

______________________________________________________________

Jim’s POV

When I entered Y/N’s quarters, she looked a mess. She had always been an extremely graceful and likeable person – after all, we both were nerds. But today, there was something off. She had eyebags beneath her eyes, and her tired demeanour indicated that she hadn’t gotten much sleep.

But I could not bail out on Spock’s plan. So, it would have to do.

Spock had come up with something which was very unlike Spock – but the man never failed to surprise me. We had done what we had to do with McCoy. It hadn’t been easy, because he would not sleep at night, and kept protesting when he woke up. But we had managed.

He was in his quarters, unaware what was happening. We had brought him aboard forcefully. He won’t sit there for long. We had to hurry.

“Hey, Jim. Let’s go.”

I snapped my head in the direction of the voice.

“After you”

As the door slid open, a small voice came through.

“I am sorry Y/N.”

And then, Y/N slumped unconscious.

______________________________________________________________

A few hours later

Bones POV

Spock and Jim had been acting weird. Like, they have always been slightly off their hooks, but today, there was an air of urgency about them.

That is extremely discomforting with Spock, because usually he is the patient one preventing Jim from running around like a headless chicken.

I was pacing around my quarters. I had been asked to stay inside until called. “Captain’s orders.”, Jim had said.

I huffed. Did he really think I was going to listen to him? It had been a while since they had left, and I decided to get some work done.

Before I could decide what was the agenda for today, my intercom whistled. “McCoy here.”

“Uhura here.” Her voice was strained. “Doctor, please hurry to the Bridge. There is an emergency. Y/N has fainted.” Cursing under my breath, I picked up my medical kit and rushed out of the door.

The doors of the turbolift slid open and I walked out, worried what had happened. I looked around but there was no one. Perplexed, I scanned the bridge for any signs of hastened evacuation. My eyes landed on a head poking from the Captain’s chair.

I walked to the chair and turned it around. Y/N was slumped unconscious in it. I took her pulse, but it was really faint. I took out a hypo and filled it with cordrazine. This was risky material, but it would wake Y/N up for sure. The hypo hissed as it pressed it into her forearm, and she stirred.

______________________________________________________________

Y/N’s POV

My head was throbbing. My eyes fluttered, but they won’t open. “Too bright”, I mumbled. Someone standing next to me said, “Computer, dim the lights.” The voice mumbled something, then stopped. My eyes opened, and then focussed on the person kneeling beside me. “Doctor?” I said, voice cracking.

“Yeah Y/N. What happened? Why did you faint? Why are you sitting in the Captain’s chair? Do you remember anything?”

I looked around, a bewildered look covering my face. I didn’t remember coming to the bridge. “I don’t know Doc… I don’t even remember coming to the bridge…” McCoy got up quickly and started examining me with his tricorder.

“No signs of mental trauma. Are you sure you don’t remember coming here?” I nodded. Looking around, I now noticed that the lighting was pinkish. “Hey Doc… why is the lighting here pink?” I failed to keep the smile off my face.

He chuckled. “I don’t know. When you woke up, I ordered the computer to dim the lights. It did, but the lights also became pink.”

Suddenly, it hit me. “Oh my God. I just remembered. This has something to do with Jim. And Spock. Jim had come to my quarters to invite me for breakfast. When I was about to walk out, somebody said, ‘I am sorry Y/N.’, and then I fainted.”

McCoy’s eyes had grown wide. He seemed angry. “Come on. Let’s find the two devils.”

I tried getting up but stumbled. McCoy held my forearm and held me up. Then he stopped. “Y/N. There’s a piece of paper stuck to your back.” Confused, I asked him to remove it. “It won’t come off.”

“What does it say?”

“Um… It says, ‘I’ve been watching you for some time; Can’t stop staring at those ocean eyes.’”

I froze. I turned around to face McCoy and opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

I couldn’t decipher the expression on his face, but I could see the gears turning in his mind. Would he be angry? Or upset? I half expected him to just shrug and walk away, when surprisingly he held my hand and kissed it.

I tilted my head like a confused squirrel, giving him a look of *almost* disbelief.

He chuckled, “Yeah I get it now. But before we get all sweet, I really wanna hunt down both the red-blooded and the green-blooded devils. They are not going to get away with this.”

I looked into his eyes, for the first time today.

And I felt myself sinking deep into the ocean of his eyes.

______________________________________________________________

Epilogue

Spock’s POV

We had watched the events on the bridge as they took place trough the security cameras. By we, I mean Jim, I and Uhura.

Uhura was laughing so hard that she was on the verge of choking. Jim was bursting with laughter and happiness, his cheeks red. The sight made me want to smile broadly.

“Oh my God Spock, you really are a genius. This was the cleverest shipping of two people ever!”

I tilted my head, asking him what “shipping” meant.

“Never mind. Let’s go now. Otherwise, Bones will hypo the lives out of us. And Y/N adding to the party is not going to be beneficial.”

He gripped my hand and lead the way, running through the corridors of our beloved ship.

And I didn’t mind being by his side one bit.

[wizardouxie]

Evil Douxie AU Ash Dispersal Pattern is something I Have Not been able to stop thinking about. Just, whoever the leader is, seeing this moping emo kid working in a cafe and being like “ah. New recruit.” Douxie gets dragged along to a meeting somehow (cough Archie gently bullies him into going cough) and he picks up the guitar. For the first little while he’s grouchy and adamantly refuses to be pleasant or even civil. After he meets the old lady, his jabs start to get more friendly and 1/2

teasing and the band notices and responds in turn, until you eventually get an exchange like this: “aw, you know you love us” “...” “YOU DIDNT DENY IT” “waIT NO SHUT UP” “YOU LOVE US” etc etc and just,,, this group of college kids forcibly adopting Douxie makes me soft. How accurate would you say this is to your AU?? -M.H. Anon 2/2

VERY ACCURATE.

[ DISCLAIMER: This is... very very long. That’s all. ]

Ash Dispersal Pattern took a hard hit this year, losing their guitarist in a nasty fight after a gig. Because of that, they were forced to opt out from the Battle of the Bands. Of course then the end of the world happened three times, which also sucked.

But you know, life is too short so might as well say ‘screw it’ and find a new member right? The member that left can eat dirt for all they cared now. And so they put up flyers calling for auditions as a guitarist.

...no one shows up.

Okay so they gotta figure out a new plan. And what better place to do so than in a cafe? So here they are trying to figure out how to get a guitarist. Douxie shows up with their drinks and one of them goes “ayo what’s up!” only to receive a “tch” in response. They’re confused.

“Yo what’s his problem?”

“He’s probably having a rough day, maybe family issues?”

“I dunno man, but his hair looks sick as hell,”

And then it clicks to them. Maybe... him?

And now Douxie is surrounded by strangers that vaguely look around his age, well roughly give or take a few centuries, and he’s biting his tongue.

“I said no.” he replies firmly, backing away. He slings his jacket over his shoulder and eyes a stray black cat curled up nearby before heading on his way. Weirdos. A discussion immediately blows up among the members.

“Are you sure you wanna go with this guy? We’ve had our share of jerk guitarists,”

“Okay but can we talk about his hair? It’s so cool, I bet he has tattoos too,”

“Enough about the hair! Look this kid’s tryna play tough guy with us, but I think we can soften him up, it’ll just take some time.”

“Aight you’re the boss here, but if he screws us over, you’re taking responsibility,”

Archie overhears the conversation and smiles. These children seemed kind, and Douxie could use some normal friends. Nothing against the Arcadia gang, but they have more than enough on their plate and he can’t exactly force them to integrate the ex sorcerer into their friend group.

Douxie hates the idea. It’s stupid.

“You’ve already signed me up for two jobs and school. I don’t even need school! I have centuries worth of knowledge these mortals can’t even dream of knowing,”

“Yes, but we are trying to blend in, Douxie. And besides, I remember you used to play the lute. The guitar is quite similar I believe,”

“Arch I haven’t touched that instrument for god knows how long,”

“Have you forgotten how to play it then?”

Douxie goes quiet. Archie smiles. Well that makes his job much, much easier. He readjusts his glasses.

“I overheard their next meeting is this Thursday, and you’re going. Isn’t that convenient? You don’t work any shifts on that day. It’ll be good for you,”

“That’s what you say about everything!”

“Have I ever been wrong?”

Silence again. So Archie may have developed a talent for shutting up his familiar. He doesn’t really know if that’s a good thing, but it’s definitely frequent.

Thursday rolls in and Douxie shows up to rehearsal grudgingly. The members are surprised. He tells them not to get cozy; just wanted to try something new out. Luckily for him, the members had a backup guitar. The strings feel strange against his calloused hands but also familiar in a way. He strums a chord and a chorus of “ooooo”s fill the room.

“What? I’m competent,” he snaps. The leader raises her hand.

“Didn’t imply you weren’t.”

And so the first few weeks pass by without much conversation. Rehearsals weren’t so bad on the musical aspect; Douxie could play the guitar pretty effortlessly, much to their astonishment. They regularly complimented him even when he did things his own way rather than follow the sheet music. They rarely ever got a response though. Maybe a “hm” if they’re lucky.

Stage presence on the other hand... he was too stiff and lacked energy. Not to mention he constantly looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. This was where the others started to get slightly ticked off.

“He’s sucking the life out of us dude, like we’re Ash Dispersal Pattern and he’s the freaking vacuum!” the drummer complained

“He doesn’t even sing with us! It’s supposed to be a group effort,” the bass player added.

“Yeah... honestly playing without a guitarist seems better than this,” the vocalist muttered quietly. Everyone looked at them and then the leader.

The leader pinches her nose. So that’s what they all thought huh? And as much as majority would usually win, this wasn’t what she wanted, to lose someone at such an early stage. What they’ve got going is not bad; it just could be better.

“Look, I get it, we’ve had a hard year and him being difficult doesn’t help us. But don’t you think he’s having it hard too? And we’ve all been there before. We’ve had our fights with parents, schools, society and he’s clearly going through it. Right now our best course of action is to just let it pass and let him approach us instead of coming on too strong.”

“Ah so that’s why we chose you as the leader,” the bass player jokes. The leader rolls her eyes.

“Can it, buttsnack.”

Miracles start occurring after the introduction of the little old lady. Douxie no longer keeps on a straight face. Rather, his eyes wonder curiously, mouth forming expressions that he’s not even conscious of. One day the drummer catches him... pouting. Now that’s an expression he didn’t think he’d get to see. 

“You okay there, Hisirdoux? Something get you down?”

“The stairs,” he jokes halfheartedly. 

He gets startled when he hears the drumsticks rattle against the floor. The drummer is running upstairs, yelling. And then he comes back dragging the leader who’s looking at him with concern.

“Yo Hisirdoux my dude, tell her what you told me!” 

“He asked me if something got me down. I said the stairs. Thought it was funny,” the guitarist shrugs. The leader snorts.

“That’s the best you can do?” she comments smiling. Douxie returns the smile much to her surprise.

“Of course not, but do you deserve my best?” The drummer’s jaw drops. Oh snap. The leader on the other hand is very pleased. This is what she’s looking for.

Suddenly Douxie’s phone rings. He picks up while the others listen curiously. His face breaks out into a huge grin. It’s the little old lady.

“Hello love, I’ll pick you up in ten minutes, sound good? Just finishing up rehearsal,” he says softly.

The drummer wiggled his eyebrows at the leader.

“Ooooo we got a lovebird in the band!”

Douxie chokes. 

“Are you okay Douxie?”

“Yeah, yeah, something came up but I’ll be there okay!” He ends the call promptly and shakes his head furiously.

“Aww Douxie’s such a cute name, why can’t we call you that?”

“FIRST OF ALL SHE IS NOT, ahem, she is not my girlfriend. That would be awkward because she is um, sixty to seventy years old,” 

He doesn’t tell them that technically he is 919. The leader meanwhile, looks pointedly at the drummer who is slowly shrinking in his spot. Whoops. Bad call. Douxie looks at the clock. 5:20 pm. He starts packing up, slinging the guitar backpack over his shoulder.

But before he leaves, he surprises them one more time.

“You guys can call me Douxie or Doux too, by the way. The name is growing on me.”

Rehearsals are so much better after that. Douxie’s smiling and talking to them, performing much more animatedly and giving it his all. He still kinda jabs at them, but there’s no tension behind it.

Nowadays he practices at home instead of waiting for rehearsal. It’s a little hard to fit time what with schoolwork and shifts, but he makes it happen. Archie stares at him fondly. This was the life that Douxie needed. One with a balance between honest work and fun.

One day, Douxie brings in some takeout from the bistro. A little celebratory gift because Ash Dispersal Pattern finally got a successful gig after so long. They open up all the boxes, set out plates, napkins flying all over the place. It’s loud, chaotic, a little dirty, but it doesn’t matter to Douxie because he’s with his friends.

Wait.

“Dang Doux, you didn’t have to do all this but you did anyways. I bet you love us. don’t you?” the vocalist teased.

Douxie remains quiet. Friends. As in, people he really cares about and looks forward to spending time with. People who he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life with. People who he --

“--LOVES US SHUT UP OH MY GOD!” the drummer yells, taking him back to reality. He looks at them with a smile and a shrug and suddenly he’s being attacked with hugs. They’re all screaming about how he’s always been soft and loved them from the start.

And then he’s crying. Everyone starts to panic and they’re scrambling off of him, asking him if he’s okay, if what they did was too much or anything like that. He shakes his head, trying to wipe his tears. It’s just... he’s never been held like this by so many people and for so long. He was so touch starved that he didn’t know what to do with this much love and appreciation. Quite frankly it’s been so long since it felt like he was truly wanted. 

He tells them it’s okay, really, he was just a little overwhelmed. But now the craving for their touch is so much stronger.

“Can you hold me again like that? Just for a bit? It was nice,” he asks timidly and they nod eagerly. Within ten minutes, they fall asleep in each other’s arms. Archie quietly pulls a blanket over them and sleeps on Douxie’s lap.

His work here is done.

[grimseywrites]

Chloé Bourgeois in Lockdown

Chloé and Adrien are stuck together in lockdown, and she learns a lot about herself in the process. 

Word Count: 1572

So this turned out super duper long. I legit wrote most of this in a chat (lol) with my sister, and came up with the plot, then added almost 500 words trying to make it coherent. 

Lockdown. Due to her father’s position in government, Mayor Bourgeois arranged for Chloé to stay with the Agreste family, the estate big enough and secure enough that she would certainly be safe. At first, she's as prissy as ever, ordering her butler and Adrien’s bodyguard around as though it were her own home. What more could you expect?

There’s barely anything for her to do. Whenever she is around Adrien his tablet inevitably alerts him to a new message from someone in the class. And yet Sabrina is the only one who dares check in with her. Every buzz, every video chat, every message that Adrien relays to her with a smile only serves to make her loneliness worse. She’s isolated in more ways than one. Of course they message Adrien. He’s friendly and sweet, to the point where he even tries to include her on the video chats, but she knows she isn't welcome. How could she be, when she has spent every waking hour making their lives more difficult.

At least Sabrina is making use of quarantine. Without Chloé there to boss her around, she is using her spare time to learn anything she can. Maybe I could learn something new? Chloé thinks. Then I’ll have something no-one will ever be able to take away.

But what? What could she learn?

She considers fashion design; she has always idolised her mother. Adrien clears her head of that idea quickly, reminding her that she doesn't want her mother's life, she just wants her to be proud. So then, she thinks of her father, but he is easily swayed, and while Mayor, his duties are not exactly 'skilled'.

Sabrina suggests she learn needlework, but Chloé quickly finds she lacks the desire to sit still, and keeps pricking her fingers.

She looks to Adrien, who suggests baking, but she doesn't like the feel of the ingredients on her hands, and doesn't know how to infuse it with love like Marinette does. No way am I going to ask her for help.

Before she knows it, Adrien is pulling her onto the group chat, and asks them for ideas on her behalf. Kim is the first, he remembers that the Agreste Manor has a pool, and says that she should try swimming. She gives it a try, but hates getting her hair wet, and refuses to wear a swimming cap. On seeing her genuine effort, the class all begin to offer new options based on their own hobbies. Nino suggests dancing, Max offers to tutor her in coding, Alix says to get roller-skates. Even Marinette put forward the idea of video games.

Chloé takes suggestions from everyone who will offer one, and Adrien is happy to facilitate however he can. The class are actually getting into it now, and she tries incredibly hard, but just can't find a skill that she connects with. Everything has something wrong with it.

Until one day.

She and Adrien are having lunch together, as usual, and they are peacefully discussing anything they can think of that isn’t to do with the virus or their failed attempts.

And Adrien mentions that he has piano practice after lunch.

She thinks about the piano. About the baby grand in the hotel. About how Adrien would play for her when they were kids, to show her what he'd learned that day.

She considers it carefully, and sheepishly, she asks if he would mind showing her how to play. She's never really been sheepish around Adrien before, but given how he's seen her try and fail at new hobbies for the last few weeks, she tries to not let it stop her from asking. He smiles wide at her, and says ‘of course’.

It's slow going. Chloé's hands are smaller than Adrien's, and he has been playing for many years, so they’re both expecting frustration. And yet…She listens carefully to his instructions, and it's so much easier now that she's given up on calling him her boyfriend. He can position her hands without her trying to kiss him or posting a picture on social media.

Together they learn a four handed piece, him playing the intricate right, and her learning the bass chords on the left. Every day they work at it together, Adrien is patient and helpful, and Chloé does her best to not get frustrated. There are days when she feels as though she'll never learn, but there are days when they play the piece in perfect synchronicity. Slowly, the duet becomes a genuine partnership, and her dexterity improves.

And then, lockdown restrictions are eased. Chloé has to go back to the hotel, now that she can be around her father again. I’m not ready. How could she just leave the piano and her tutor behind?

Adrien assures her that he'll come over and teach her still, but it's not her only concern. In quarantine, alone with Adrien, she realised that she didn't have to create a persona for herself. That she could figure things out, without her parents screeching at each other in the background, without her own raised voice trying to incite fear and obedience in her classmates.

Together with Adrien, she realised that she never wanted to be hated, she just had no other way to keep people close.

And the day comes, when she has to say goodbye.

Adrien pulls her in for a hug, something she's gotten used to over the lockdown. She never realised how touch starved either of them were, not until this moment when it was going to happen again. Her butler's throat clears. He's trying to get her attention, but she knows what he's going to say. 'What if I forget?' She asks Adrien quietly. They both know she doesn't mean the piano. 'Then I'll remind you' he answers. The hug eventually ends. Chloé moves to leave, but can’t help glancing back at her oldest friend. He smiles reassuringly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

She gets into her suite, and immediately gets a sour taste in her mouth. It's not her room, not anymore. She asks her father for a piano and he's stunned that she didn’t simply order him, but acquiesces immediately.

She plays her half of the duet, but it isn't the same. It feels emptier. She tries to recreate some of Adrien's part, but it doesn't work, and she just ends up crying.

Adrien visits her twice weekly, and they continue the lessons, but she still feels alone.

Noticing this, Adrien gives her piano exercises, and over video chat teaches her to read sheet music. Suddenly, she seems to be picking it up quicker than ever, finding an escape in the world of music that Adrien had never truly considered. The piano had stopped being a source of joy for him, since he only ever played on his father's orders before lockdown.

And Chloé begins to improvise. Staying inside by choice, away from the eyes of Paris, she starts to compose. She lays her emotions bare; some songs are joyful and bright, but most are heart-achingly mournful.

The compositions aren't masterpieces. The old Chloé would have pretended so, but now they're just for her. She keeps them to herself, locked away in the pages of her diary. She stopped writing in that long ago, but now, these pieces, they feel as personal as any diary could ever be.

Days later, she's trying to find a specific sheet, and it all collapses onto the floor. She thinks how heavy-handed the metaphor is, but starts to pick it all up anyway. And then she sees two sheets from separate compositions, side by side. As she stares, she plays the notes in her mind. It's not perfect, but it's enough for her to know.

It's a duet.

She writes it out as a duet, mixing and matching her pages of already written music. It's not several small pieces, it's one long one, a musical epic, a story combined of all these small moments, traversing her emotional turmoil.

Adrien comes in, and sees what she's done. Of course he offers to play it with her. And she's terrified, terrified of showing her innermost feelings to anyone, and yet if anyone will understand, it's him.

They sit together, and start to play. It's easy to see Chloé getting lost in her own work. Adrien is used to it by now, she's processing, and that's okay.

It takes some time for them to get it right, sight reading only goes so far, however they both practice, and eventually it's as Chloé intended. They finish simultaneously with a major chord, victorious and happy.

And Chloé looks at Adrien, both of them breathing heavily.

‘I’m gay’ she tells him, the words spilling out of her before she knows what’s happening, but she needs to tell someone and he’s witnessed her every weak moment during this ordeal.

Adrien is now a very confused boy. So he stares, trying to work it through his head.

It's the longest minute of Chloé's life. She pictures a hundred reactions before Adrien realises he doesn't need to understand why she spent so long chasing him, or why she’s only saying so now.

He hugs her tight, and tells her that he's happy she could trust him with this.

She starts to cry.

They wait it out, and begin to play again, both wishing for an end as happy as Chloé's song.

[bytheangell]

Grow as We Go

Flufftober Day 26: Garden (Read on AO3)

“I’ll kill whoever did this to you,” Raphael says, walking out of the small tarp-covered area of his yard by the fence along the property line. He’s holding a long section of vine he had to cut from one of the tomato plants inside, now dying and riddled with holes from being eaten through. “I’m going to kill them for you, don’t worry. I’m going to find every son of a bitch who ever hurt you, and their parents, and their children, and I’m going to end each of their lives individually until--”

“Oh thank god,” comes a relieved voice from the fence. Raphael startles, looking up to see the figure of his next-door neighbor peering over the top of the fence. “Sorry, I just, uh, overheard your increasingly horrifying threats and thought you might secretly be a mob boss someone crossed or something. But you’re just talking to a plant.”

Raphael glares down at the tomato plant again, buying himself enough time to neutralize whatever expression he might have on his face over his mortification of the first encounter with the guy next door (outside of exchanging names and a few courteous ‘good morning’s in passing) being this.

“Sorry,” Raphael says, but in a ‘sorry you overheard’ and not a ‘sorry I said it’ way. He has to vent his frustrations in some way that isn’t snapping and ripping up the tomato plant entirely, after all. He’ll be the first to say he never gets embarrassed, but if he did this would come pretty damn close.

“It’s all good. I’m just glad you aren’t trying to wipe out generations of human beings over there,” Jace says. “Bug problem?”

“Yes,” Raphael grumbles. “I don’t even like tomatoes, but Simon loves them, and I’m trying to grow him a garden for his birthday and failing miserably.”

“I’m actually really good with plants, and I had a little greenhouse at my last place. I could come over and see if I can help?” Jace offers.

Raphael immediately shakes his head. Not only does he not want to take advantage of his neighbor’s kindness, but he also very vividly recalls the conversations with Simon about how Simon may have … other interests regarding Jace for them. Once they all get to know each other a little better, of course. Raphael doesn’t want to ruin that potential by abusing Jace’s kindness now… and he was actually hoping Simon would be the first of them to make any actual connection with Jace. Raphael is, to say the least, not great at winning people over.

“No. That’s way too much work, I couldn’t-” Raphael starts, but Jace is already waving his refusal off.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure one day I’ll need help with something and you can pay me back, isn’t that how neighbors work?” Jace smiles. “Anyway, I actually kinda miss it, it’d be nice to make sure I haven’t lost my touch.”

“Alright,” Raphael agrees finally, hoping Simon will forgive him for taking a chance on this, and praying he doesn’t mess it up. “Maybe you can start by figuring out what keeps eating the goddamn tomato plant?”

---

Jace wasn’t just lying to get invited over, he’s actually very good at gardens and plants in general. He starts to go over in the early mornings while Simon is sleeping in to help Raphael with natural bug repellant tips, homemade fertilizer tricks, and even pruning and general upkeep techniques that Raphael never saw on any of the websites he looked into.

And yeah, okay, maybe Jace is helping in large part because of his ridiculous crush on Simon. And yeah, okay, maybe this is an increasingly terrible idea, because the more time he spends around Raphael and his particular dark, sarcastic humor, the more he realizes that he and Raphael get along really well. Like, really well - they’re similar in a lot of ways, which normally doesn’t work out for him, but in this case, Jace finds himself completely enamored with the guy who can match his sarcasm with dry wit and clever comebacks without missing a beat.

This is extra unfortunate because this all started because Jace wanted to help do something nice for Simon, who seems like a really nice guy from the few times he met him, one of those ‘you just want to see him happy because he deserves it’ sort of people. Now Jace has to admit his crushes on his neighbors have now quickly evened out from Simon-heavy to a solid 50/50 split between them… not that it matters.

Because Simon and Raphael are very much in love, that much is obvious from everything Raphael says about them, and Jace is not a homewrecker.

Jace is, however, apparently a gardener now. He settles for being happy to help with a gift for Simon and ease Raphael’s frustrations in the process, even if his relationship with his neighbors will never be anything more than casual, neighborly friendship.

Going over once a day (“Just to keep an eye on things, look out for signs of other invasive bugs before they get out of hand, you know.”) is absolutely not necessary, but Raphael doesn’t call him out on it. In fact, Raphael’s been giving him a lot of compliments lately, from the new set of suits he’s been wearing to work to the piano playing he heard through Jace’s open window the other night. There’s also the fact that Raphael is often already there waiting for him in the morning, and if Jace didn’t know any better he’d think Raphael almost seemed eager for their daily interactions. Jace just chalks it up to being eager for the garden to work out - for Simon and all.

Speaking of Simon - it doesn’t take long for Simon to figure out when Jace is normally outside, either to meet with Raphael or to go to and from work. At first, it’s just casual greetings and small talk, but soon he’s prying for information, and Jace smirks.

“Oh no you don’t. If you think a little eyelash batting and puppy dog eyes is going to get me to spill Raphael’s secrets, you’re sorely mistaken,” Jace says, shaking his head.

Simon pouts, and it’s infuriatingly adorable. Jace has to admit to himself that under any other circumstance the look would be more than enough to get Jace to tell Simon anything. Then Jace catches his eyes lingering a bit too long on those pouting lips - and he’s pretty sure Simon does, too.

“I have to go,” he says, tearing his gaze away quickly and turning to go back inside without another word.

The next day Jace catches Simon trying to sneak around to Jace’s side of the fence in the hopes that he could see anything inside the tarp-covered area of Raphael’s makeshift greenhouse. Jace goes outside quietly, moving silently up behind him.

“Isn’t this trespassing?” Jace asks, causing Simon to jump a foot into the air.

“It, uh, isn’t what it-” Simon starts guiltily.

Jace shakes his head. “Your birthday isn’t too far away. I promise the surprise is going to be well worth the wait. Also, I think Raphael might actually murder you if you peek now, and then murder me if he finds out I let you.”

Simon laughs at that, but to his credit, he also backs away from the fence and towards Jace. “Wow, you already know him so well,” Simon jokes, but Jace can’t tell if the hint of jealousy he thinks he hears there is real or imagined.

“Not really,” Jace is quick to insist, and now he can’t read the expression on Simon’s face at all. In a moment of panic, Jace decides the best course of action is to try and spend more time getting to know Simon, too, instead of just spending less time with Raphael. “Hey, do you want to come in and grab a drink?”

Simon looks surprised by the sudden turn in the conversation, but he nods finally, a small smile spreading across his face as he accepts the offer.

---

The inside of Jace’s house has a sort of classic elegance to it that Simon hadn’t been expecting - but maybe it was influenced by the baby grand piano in the living area that Simon knows, even if it looks older and probably refurbished, had to run Jace a couple grand at least.

“May I?” Simon asks, motioning to it, and Jace nods.

“Go ahead,” Jace says as Simon takes a seat, and messes around with a few simple chord progressions just to test it out. “Raphael told me you play - that and guitar, right?”

Simon nods, playing a small portion of a song he knows from memory. “Yeah. Nothing like what you can do, though,” Simon admits, glancing at the sheet music in front of him that he can only barely begin to process.

Jace shrugs, wandering off to the kitchen to make drinks, raising his voice to continue talking as he does. “My dad was kind of a hardass about learning. I almost gave it up a little while back, actually. But I decided to pick it back up recently.”

Simon can tell there’s a story there, but he doesn’t pry when Jace keeps the details vague.

“Well, for the sake of my frequent dinner serenades, I for one am glad you did,” Simon says, getting off the piano bench and joining Jace in the kitchen.

They talk for a while, and Simon doesn’t tell him that Raphael’s already told him a lot of this, not sure how Jace would react to the idea of the two of them talking about him as much as they do sometimes. They talk about new things, too, like music and how they both came from growing up in cities, and Simon’s pop culture references often go right over Jace’s head but by the end of the night Jace has a small notepad page filled with bands and movies to check out.

“Seriously, I have so many DVDs, if you ever want to borrow something just come over and ask,” Simon insists for the 3rd time as he leaves. “We can even have movie nights!”

“I will,” Jace promises, and Simon sincerely hopes he’ll follow through on that.

It isn’t the last time they have drinks together. In fact, ever since that first invitation Simon has been strategically placing himself outside when he knows Jace is around at night, striking up a casual conversation, and getting an invitation to come in for a drink if he wants that’s turned into just a standard nightly nightcap. Each time he sits closer to Jace on the sofa as they talk, each time his lingering touches on Jace’s back, or arm, or somewhere more or less harmless, linger a little bit longer.

Two nights before his birthday, Simon practically sat in Jace’s lap while they talked, and he’s pretty sure his hand rested on Jace’s thigh for a solid 20 minutes without either of them acknowledging it around their easy conversation about the first Star Wars movie which Jace just watched, at Simon’s insistence.

“Raphael, he’s wonderful,” Simon whines, throwing himself down on the bed dramatically after he gets home. “He watched Star Wars for me,” Simon adds as if that fact alone proves his point.

“I know, Si. And we haven’t exactly been subtle, but every time I think he’s finally leaning into the idea he pulls back twice as far. But I’m positive he feels something there, you should see how red his ears get when I compliment him,” Raphael says, laughing a little.

“Raph! Be nice!” Simon says, smiling.

“I’m just afraid asking him now will make him double-down on pulling away,” Raphael admits. Simon sighs and the conversation drops for the night.

When Simon’s birthday rolls around the reveal of the thriving garden is better than he ever expected. It’s beautiful, he’s already excited to get to help take care of it now, and he’s wanted to grow his own cooking ingredients for ages! It’s perfect, not that he expected his gift from Raphael to be anything but perfect, but the garden really is above and beyond.

But there’s one thing that would set the night over the top, and Simon decides to risk everything for the chance of it. He heads over to Jace’s house to knock on his door.

---

The last person Jace expects at his door is Simon. He’d resigned himself to a night in alone, perhaps flicking through Tinder for a hookup to distract himself from the fact he’s missing his daily interactions with Raphael and Simon way more than he should be now that it’s Simon’s birthday and the gardening project is over.

“Simon? What are you doing here?” Jace asks, surprised. “It’s your-- I mean, Happy Birthday! But also shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

Simon nods. “I should. I am! But we wanted to know if you’d like to come over and celebrate with us?” Simon asks. “We’re cooking with veggies from the garden, and you can stay for drinks… or the night if you wanted.”

The night? There’s absolutely no way that means what he thinks it means, but they live next door to each other, why would Jace spend the night otherwise?

Jace shakes his head. They probably just feel bad for him being over here alone again, but he’d been alone plenty before they became friends, he’s used to it.

“I couldn’t impose-”

“You aren’t. We want you there. Both of us,” Simon emphasizes, glancing to where Raphael leans against the front door of his own house, waiting. Simon appears to brace himself before reaching out and taking Jace’s hand in his, giving it a small squeeze, and then very quickly shifting up onto his toes to give Jace a quick kiss.

Dozens of moments replay in Jace’s head during the split-second of that kiss - casually flirty comments and lingering touches he wrote off as just being overly-friendly as they happened because he’d mentally tossed Simon and Raphael in an ‘unavailable’ box. But now…

“Oh,” Jace says, the realization dawning on him. He can feel his heartbeat quicken in his chest. Chancing a quick glance over at Raphael Jace sees him unmoved, watching expectantly and entirely unbothered by the fact that Simon just kissed him.

“You don’t have to, obviously. You could just come for dinner? Or-” Simon is starting to ramble in Jace’s prolonged silence.

“I could,” Jace starts, his brain still racing to process everything that just clicked into place but not wanting Simon to think his silence is a ‘no’ because it definitely isn’t. “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting… yeah, that sounds good. That sounds great, actually,” Jace finally manages and watches Simon practically melt with relief.

“See, I knew asking you now wouldn’t scare you away!” Simon says victoriously. Jace is still too shocked to do anything other than laugh at that before Simon continues. “You can come over now if you want! We picked so many great things from the garden, and Raphael picked up some things from the market, and...”

Jace closes his door and follows an eagerly chatting Simon across their lawns to where Raphael waits, excited for whatever tonight - and hopefully the days that follow - might bring for the three of them.

[upthenorthmountain]

Heartwood - Chapter 3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter Three

It was warm for April. The sun shone through the trees, making patches of light and shade and falling in thick beams between the branches. All around Anna was green, an almost alarmingly bright green of new shoots and buds of leaves. There were tiny wildflowers in the grass, pink and purple and blue and yellow. And from every direction there was birdsong.

The footpath was longer than she remembered. Anna moved the tent from arm to arm but it was too heavy with her rucksack as well; in the end she put the tent at the side of the path and hid it a little behind the bottom of a bush. She’d have to come back for it. The day was dry so it didn’t matter. 

It was mid-afternoon by now. It had taken a little while at the outdoors shop to make sure she had everything she needed, but not more than she could carry (although that hadn’t worked out completely successfully). And she’d had to go next door into a clothes shop to buy some sensible shoes, and some sensible clothes, for that matter. And then home again to pack a few personal items. And now, finally, she’d had a taxi drop her off on the road at the end of the footpath - it seemed silly to bring the car when she didn’t know how long she’d be leaving it for - and was almost at the camp.

Anna slowed a little when she reached the stile into the field. From here she could see the little clusters of tents. It was true Lillian had invited her, but did she actually expect her to come? How would everyone react when she told them all to move over to the corner of the field? Maybe they didn’t care. Maybe they’d laugh at her and send her away.

She thought about what expression Elsa would have on her face, if Anna came back home without even staying away one night.

That was more than enough to drive her on, over the stile and into the field. 

There were five tents, all pitched in a rough circle around a central area that had a cooking fire in it. A few people were sitting around on camping chairs or log stumps. Anna walked slowly over. Her new shoes were rubbing already.

“Hi,” she said, looking around. She saw Lillian over to one side and smiled at her. “I think I can help you.”

“Help how?”

That wasn’t Lilian, it was a male voice, behind her. Anna turned and saw Kristoff standing there, frowning. “We’re managing, thank you,” he said, and turned away again. 

“Wouldn’t you be managing a bit better if you had permission from the landowner to be here?” Anna asked.

He was frowning even more now. Anna dropped her rucksack and crouched next to it to unzip a side pocket and pull out the map Mr Owens had given her.

“Not here, exactly,” she said.

“Oh, well -”

“Just over there.” She waved the map at him and pointed. Lillian came over.

“Anna, hello! So glad you’re here, so good to see you,” and she hugged her.

“And you,” Anna said. “Look at this.”

She showed them both - and a couple of the other campers, who joined them - her map. Lillian was excited and pulled Anna over to pace out the boundary of her land. “We won’t have to move far,” she called to the others. “And we’ll have plenty of room to put up the equipment. Anna, this is incredible, thank you!”

“The point is to be occupying the field,” one of the other women said doubtfully.

“Well, if we see anyone coming with bulldozers, we’ll still be well placed to lie down in front of them.” Lillian was almost bouncing up and down on her heels. “Right, everyone, our friend Anna has invited us to camp on her field, let’s get everything over there before dark.”

“We’ll have to move all the recorders,” Kristoff said, “But we won’t manage it before dusk. They’ll have to live dangerously for another night.”

“You play the recorder?” Anna said.

Kristoff gave her a look that was just a shade short of rolling his eyes. “For the bats. They hang in the trees. But the bats are most active at dusk and we don’t want to miss a day of observations.”

“He plays the guitar,” a young woman said. “He’s really good. I’m Rebecca, by the way. Where’s your tent? Or do you need to share with someone?”

“It’s back along the lane,” Anna said, “I didn’t have enough hands. I’ll go and get it.”

Anna left her bag as out of the way as she could, and scurried back to where she had left her tent. It was a bit covered in grass but fine; she hugged it to her chest as she walked back to the others.  People were already moving belongings and arguing about the best way to move tents; Lillian was holding Anna’s map and calling to people and pointing. Anna had to throw the tent over the stile then climb over herself, but before she could pick it up, Kristoff had appeared, and was taking it and carrying it away.

“Hey!” She chased after him. “I can manage.”

He looked slightly abashed. “Sorry. You said it was heavy.”

“I said I didn’t have enough hands, with my bag and everything as well. I can manage. And I know how to put it up, thank you, before you ask.” She held out her arms and he hesitated, then pushed the tent at her. She took it and started walking back over to the camp; he walked along with her.

“I’m sorry I made everyone move,” Anna said, to fill the silence.

“It’s fine. We would have had to move the tents in a day or two anyway. To save the grass.”

Anna shifted the tent to her other arm. “What happens with food? I mean, do we all eat together?”

“Yes, Lillian has a kitty, she’ll tell you what to put in. Are you vegetarian?”

“No.”

“Well, you are now.” 

“That’s fine.” They were in Anna’s corner of the field; she looked around, and put down the tent in a likely-looking place. “Thank you.”

“Well, I’d better go and move my stuff.”

“You had, yes.” Anna crouched down and pulled the tent bag open. “See you later.”

He nodded, hesitated, then left.

Anna slid the tent out of the bags and spread out the pieces. It had been a few years since she’d put one up, but she could remember the basics - peg out the ground sheet with the inner on it. Then poles. Then the fly sheet. This was only a small tent, and it looked quite simple. Oh, rats, she didn’t have a mallet.

Fortunately, the woman setting up her tent next to her did. Sue was another retired teacher, though not from Anna’s old school, and Anna was able to copy her tent-building and manage very well.

“I see you’ve already got a follower,” Sue said cheerfully, waving the mallet at Kristoff. He was setting up his tent on the opposite side of the circle and Anna felt like she caught his eye every time she looked up.

“Oh, goodness,” Anna said, flushing a little. “He was just helping.”

“Pretty young thing like you, bound to happen. Let me know if he bothers you, though,” she said, her tone changing. “Can soon send him packing.”

“No, it’s fine,” Anna said. Sue raised her eyebrows.

“I mean - I only just met him,” Anna added quickly. “I’m sure he’s fine. Does he work for the conservation group, or something?”

“Oh, no, that’s all Lil - I think he’s a neighbour of hers. Loves the countryside, nature, all of that. Not sure what he does for a living but he’s been hanging around in this field for a week so it can’t be very high-powered. Nice lad. Very earnest.”

“He went to my school, I think,” Anna said.

She stood back and looked at her tent. It was only very slightly wonky, and it was definitely up. “I’d better find my bag,” she said, just as Kristoff walked by, dropping it at her feet. He didn’t say a word, just kept walking. Sue snorted.

-----

Dinner was vegetable curry, with naan cooked on metal sheets over the fire. Then hot drinks were made, and everyone sat around in a circle, relaxing and chatting. Anna kept wanting to pinch herself. She was maybe five miles from her home, but she felt so far away. She stared dreamily into the flames and wished she’d brought some marshmallows.

“We need some music,” someone said. 

“Yes, music!” someone else agreed.

“Come on, Kristoff,” Rebecca said on Anna’s left. “Get your guitar.”

Anna expected him to refuse, but instead Kristoff stood, walked away for a moment and returned with guitar in hand. He sat and tuned it, and played a few chords. Anna gasped. He gave her a quizzical look.

“Thistle Harvest,” she said. “I love that song! John Foster, he’s my favourite singer.”

Kristoff pulled a face. “If it was, it’s a coincidence.”

“He doesn’t play John Foster,” Rebecca said. “He has this weird dislike of him. Ask him to play something else before he starts ranting about ‘twee pap for the masses’ and so forth.”

“It was exactly the same,” Anna insisted.

“Coincidence,” Kristoff said again, firmly, and started playing Scarborough Fair.

[casper-writes-stuff]

Coffee Breath

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20694812

Summary: Patton owns a coffee shop, and his favorite regular, a college kid named Virgil, always shows up an hour after the shop opens, early in the morning.

Today he shows up half an hour earlier, and has something to share.

This is literally the softest thing I've ever written, and I've written some super soft shit guys.

I dunno, I heard the song Coffee Breath by Sofia Mills and I fell in love and also got moxiety vibes so I sat down and wrote.

Patton hummed softly to the song playing softly in the shop, wiping down a counter while he waited for the cute regular that usually came in right as the store opened, smiling softly at the thought of the purple hair, dark jacket, and tired eyes that were trademark for this particular customer.

Virgil came in, making Patton perk up brightly, tossing the towel beneath the counter on top of the buckets used to keep the towels in a place out of sight but reachable.

“Hey, kiddo! You’re a little early today, needed your caffeine fix more than usual?”

Virgil smiled at him, flipping his bangs out of his eyes before puffing out a breath of air to dislodge a few strands that stubbornly stayed in place.

“Nah, Pat, just wanted to see you before anyone else got here.”

Patton couldn’t help the soft blush dusting his cheeks as his grin turned beaming.

“Aw, kiddo! But you’re usually the only one who shows up for at least an hour before the next regular comes in.”

Virgil looked away, making Patton tilt his head because really, Virgil was a whole half hour early and he was a creature of habit. Always came in, grabbed a small hot mocha with only one shot of espresso, chatted with Patton until other customers started showing up, when he’d pull out his headphones and scroll through his phone until around nine, when he’d wave Patton goodbye.

Patton wondered what could be different today.

“Is something wrong?”

Virgil looked back at Patton, blinking as a bewildered expression settled on his face, as if he hadn’t expected Patton to come to the conclusion that something was wrong.

“Nothing, I uh… had something I wanted to talk to you about, actually? And I wanted to make sure we wouldn’t be interrupted.”

Patton glanced behind him at the kitchen, wondering if he could get away with sitting down with Virgil to talk for a bit.

He wasn’t worried about getting in trouble, really, he was the owner of the coffee shop, but he wanted to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything that needed to be turned off.

“Alright! Let’s sit down then, I’d love to hear what you have to say!”

A corner of Virgil’s mouth lifted, a soft huff of laughter escaping his nose as he moved to sit in his usual booth while Patton untied his apron and set it on the counter before settling opposite the other.

Virgil seemed to hesitate at starting this conversation, but Patton only smiled patiently, waiting to see what his friend wanted to say.

“Okay let me just… I have this song I want to show you? I heard it the other day, scrolling through this uh… this app and wanted to check it out ya know? Made me think of you.”

Patton nodded eagerly. “Lay it on me, Vee! I love hearing new music.”

Virgil cleared his throat, cheeks dusting red as he pulled his phone out of his hoodie pocket. He messed with it for a moment before soft chords started playing from the speakers. Patton listened intently, smiling softly when the words started.

He didn’t say anything as the song played, wanting to really listen to the lyrics and understand why it had made Virgil think of him.

And then…

You got those big blue eyes, drive me crazy. Make me fantasize about you baby.

Patton’s eyes widened, looking at Virgil who was now a full tomato refusing to look in Patton’s direction, a sleeve covered hand hiding his mouth and eyes face firmly towards the wall.

And you smell so sweet, like fresh picked daisies, call me dahmer cause, your hearts so tasty.

Patton’s face started heating up to match Virgil’s as the song continued, but he refused to look away from the emo sitting in front of him.

For once, Patton wished the shop was silent so he could hear the song Virgil was playing for him more clearly.

Now my bed sheets smell like, your cologne, and in separate worlds we, sleep alone.

Patton finally had to cover his own face, though he left his eyes open and clear of obstacles to continue staring at Virgil, wanting to watch his face for any change in expression.

The song faded into silence, and neither man spoke for a long time. The quiet was only disturbed by the soft music playing in the coffee shop and the cars occasionally passing by outside.

Patton finally cleared his throat, face still burning as he gently took Virgil’s phone out of his hands, Virgil’s head snapping in his direction as Patton gently slipped his hands in the other’s now free one.

“I--” he cleared his throat again when his voice cracked, “I… Virgil, honey, are you trying to tell me you have feelings for me?”

Virgil tensed, eyes darting back towards the wall as his face grew red again and his shoulders scrunched up towards his ears.

Patton couldn’t resist the endeared giggle that escaped him. He reached for Virgil’s other hand so he could press them together and kiss his knuckles.

“I like you too.”

Virgil inhaled sharply, watching Patton’s lips intently as he lowered their hands just slightly.

“I uh… I’ve liked you for a while now? I just… Roman finally told me that if I didn’t, and I quote, ‘live out my very own coffee shop au’ then he’d kick me out of the dorm until I said something to you.”

Patton huffed out a laugh, having heard of Roman and his many shenanigans from Virgil before.

“You’re honestly my cutest customer, and sweetest, since you actually take the time to talk to me. I enjoy your company a ton, Virgil. I’d love to be able to go on dates with you, it’d be fun and spending more time with you when I’m not on the clock sounds lovely.”

Virgil smiled, eyes shining in a type of happiness that Patton hadn’t really seen before, not nearly as muted as he usually saw. His heart soared, and impulsively he leaned forward to rub his nose against Virgil’s, evoking a surprised laugh from him.

“Okay, okay that’s enough Pat, you’ve got work, and I need my mocha.”

Patton huffed, pouting slightly as he gave Virgil his space.

“Alright, fine. But I expect your company when I get off tonight, mister.”

Virgil breathed out a laugh, shaking his head in amusement.

“Yeah, alright Pat. I’ll pick you up.”

Patton beamed at him, tying his apron behind his waist.

“I look forward to it.”

[timextoxhajima]

Chapter poster by @/lovehyuck on Instagram

NCT One Shot Collection

Member: Taeil

Genre: Fluff, alot of it 

Word Count: 3.2k 

A/N: I’m not an avid writer of fluff, so when I worked on this awhile back, I was extremely skeptical about how it would turn out. Do hit me with feedback if you’ve given it a read!

“Honey, he’s here, get up and change into something else,“ Your mother shook you awake and gently pushed your hair out of your face. You frowned and sniffled, stretching your mouth and realised you had dried drool lining from your bottom lip to your chin.  

“Ugh–” Groaning, you sat up in your bed, a simple peach shade blanket twisted about your legs and your shorts pulling up way higher than your thighs. “What? Who’s here?” You closed your eyes and refused to get out of bed. 

"Your boyfriend, who else?” Your mother snickered and picked up a pillow from the ground you most likely kicked off. Frowning and completely in confusion, you instinctively looked at the clock next to your bed. It was 9am on a Saturday, and he was here? 

“What the– what for?! Yah! Moon Taeil!” You screamed from your bed, annoyed that his presence had woken you up. Your mother shot you an inappropriate look when the sound of some heavy footsteps ran up the stairs of your home. Soon enough, the brown haired 25 year old gently pushed through your door and blinked at your mother, then at you. He awkwardly scanned you, noticing that you were in a fitting long sleeved top and shorts that were rolled up near your butt. Taeil instantaneously shifted his eyes away and looked at your mother instead.

“I left the muffins in the oven, so just heat ‘em up when you’re hungry,” Taeil grinned and placed his hands over each other infront of him.

“Aw,” Your mother melted as she turned to you. “Thank you. Such a thoughtful young man,” She chuckled and headed out. The man knew your mother was a sucker for muffins. Toasted, hot, muffins.

“9am on a Sunday? Really?” You rubbed your eyes and fell back into your bed, pulling the sheets up and covering your face. 

"Awh, come on, sugar. It’s our 6th anniversary. Don’t you want to do something fun? I mean, other than university, we’re both working and we barely have the time,“ You felt the side of your bed next to your legs sink. 

"Exactly. We should just stay home and watch movies or something,” You mumbled through your lips, your eyes groggy and slowly closing back up. 

"No, we did that the last two years. Come on, sugar. Six is a lucky number,“ He leaned over and lied down on your legs. You snorted and pushed the blanket off your face, looking down at those familiar pair of puppy eyes.

"Yeah? Says who? Satan?” You raise a brow.

“No, me.” Taeil sat up and quickly kissed your forehead. “I have a whole day planned out, sugar. You’ll have fun, trust me.” He got off the bed and headed for the wardrobe.

“Last I checked, sweet pea, we rarely enjoy the same things,” You sat up and watched him rummage through your wardrobe. “You like karaoke and chill days in the park and I’m… well, sports and the hot sun," 

"Well, news flash, we are doing both today,” Taeil smiled as he pulled out a sundress in one hand and held up a pair of your favourite black converse sneakers. 

"What about the red one–”

"No, it shows your back.”

“But–”

“No.”

Sometimes, being Taeil’s girlfriend means being a daughter a second round. Every single thing in her bag had been packed for her, a bottle, an umbrella, some mosquito repellent patches and plasters. Everything else you needed to survive on mars was in a separate backpack that Taeil would be carrying the rest of the day. 

“Enjoy yourself today, honey,” Your mom kissed you goodbye as Taeil threw his bag in the backseat of his car and got round to the passenger’s seat. Your mother let you go after a hug, gently pushing you towards the man who awkwardly leaned over the hood of the car to clean a patch of bird poop strategically located in a spot where it was tough for him to reach.

“He’s not what we both expected, but he’s a truckload better than any guy I’ve seen on the street,” Your mother whispered under her breath, loud enough for you to hear. You whirl around and watched him wince as he stretch for the spot. The corners of your lips curled upwards, nodding unconsciously as you realised both how long and how short 6 years was. 

Dating him was like dating another mother. Nights passed in his arms that were never rock hard, but soft and gentle. He could sing until you fell asleep, and you’d wake up to the same voice. Though he was the moon who loved music and soothing winds and you were the sun who loved the heat on your skin and the sound of yelling when you scored a point and nobody could see the two of you dating, it still happened. Every single time you fought, he was the first to apologise but he’d have the patience to walk through the entire period of argument with you so that it wouldn’t happen again in the future. 

"Hold on to him. He’ll be quickly fished up by someone else if you don’t,“ Your mother said again as you continued watching him finish up the cleaning job. He whirled around in about 3 or 4 circles, looking for a bin, before throwing the tissue away in a bin a considerable distance away from the car.

"I will,” Giving your mom a peck on the cheek, you head off into your boyfriend’s arms. He waved to her and opened the car door for you.

“So, event-planner,” You pulled the seat belt across your chest. “What’s today’s itinerary?” 

Taeil gave a small laugh and started up the engine, refusing to say anything as he pressed a finger to his lips. You opened your mouth in feigned shock, honestly not the least bit surprised. 

Taeil was one for planning small surprises, ranging from a single flower stalk to a grand dinner overlooking the city’s skyline. Of course, you didn’t mind the scale – being with him was enough. 

As you predicted, the first stop was an amusement park. You loved everything there, the rollercoasters, the aggressive viking ride, walk-through horror houses, but you were a little taken-aback. Why? Because none of it was Taeil’s cup of tea. 

You could tell from the way he nervously fiddled with the straps from his backpack and constantly shoving his hair out of his face that he was uncomfortable, almost like he was forcing himself through the ordeal.

“Pea, you don’t need to do this for me, you know? I know you’re scared of roller coasters and you don’t do horror walkthroughs, we can always come back another day whenever you’re ready,” He had his arms wrapped around your neck and you were leaning back onto him, waiting for the line to enter the amusement park to shift forward. He shook his head again, pressing his lips onto your temple and gently brushed the small, isolated strands of hair out of your face.

“I’ll have to get it over with, someday. Especially if it’s going to be with you for the rest of my life,” Taeil smiled and pecked your head. 

You swore Taeil’s vocal chords would’ve been destroyed by the amount of screaming he did through all the rides. For awhile, you worried if you were ever going to be able to listen to his sweet, honey-like voice that sent you to dreamland or woke you up into a beautiful reality, but him being the person he was, he had small packets of honey and throat soothing sweets packed in his backpack to make sure his voice wasn’t going to be damaged. But what did get damaged were your eardrums when you walked through the horror house with him standing right behind you. He insisted on hugging you from behind and going through the horror house, and to make things even worse, the amusement park was rather empty for a Saturday. So the only target the scare actors had were the two of you, and who else to scare but the one who reacts the most and the loudest?

“You know, for a 25 year old who’s terrified of horror houses, I think you were pretty brave in there,” You sipped on your drink and reached for the burger.

“Oh, come on. He came at me from behind! Be prepared for that!” Taeil pressed out the remaining chilli sauce into a small sauce tray and placed it next to your fries.

“I was definitely not prepared for that note you belched out because of him,” You snickered with a full mouth. Taeil rolled his eyes and unwrapped his burger. 

“Keep quiet and eat your food,”

Lunch went past with fries nearly being hurled at one another and people staring at you, and the next stop was at a dog cafe. The only things the both of you wanted if you guys ever got married were dogs, because children seemed too tiresome and too expensive. Unlike normal people who loved Pomeranians and golden retrievers, you were trash for German Sheppards. And there was a particular chocolate coated one with still folded ears and seemed reluctant to leave his spot in the corner of the room, it drawn you towards him more. The puppy nuzzled against your finger before carefully crawling into your lap, licking your fingertips as you fed him some dog treats Taeil had gotten you. 

Taeil wasn’t interested in any other the other dogs, all his eyes could focus on were you, your patience with the puppy and how much you were obviously in love with him. 

The puppy began licking the metal ring on your finger, then began trying to bite on it. 

“Oh, no, no,” You removed your hand from the puppy’s reach, wiping the ring and finger on the side of your dress. The ring was given to you for your 3rd anniversary, from Taeil. A promise ring, and on it embedded the date of which he asked you to go out with him and it became official. On yours had a carving of the word “Moon” and his, “Stars”. 

Oh, how fun it would be if I could bring you home. You smile at the puppy.

"How come we’re back at my house? The sun’s not even beginning to set yet–“ You looked over to Taeil as he slowed to a halt. He reached to the back and grabbed your purse, handing it to you and stroking your hand, along with the ring on it.

"I got us a nice table at that restaurant you always wanted to go to. So, you’re gonna go back in, change and dress up into something you make look pretty, and I’ll see you back out here at 7pm.” Taeil’s eyes folded into little crescents as he spoke.

“Awh, really?” Your heart died on the spot. “Doesn’t that mean I’m going to get to see you in a suit?” You raised a brow. 

Taeil wasn’t one for suits, but he sure as Hell looked good in them. He laughed and sucked on his upper row of teeth.“Yes, yes you will,” Taeil nodded and looked at you straight in the eye. 

“I’ll see you tonight, sugar. I love you so much. I just want you to be happy, especially with me,” Taeil leaned towards you and kissed your forehead, staying there for a few seconds. 

"I am. I always am,” You pulled his chin down and kissed him on the lips. "I’ll see you later,” You pushed yourself out the car and dashed for the door, not even bothering to wave goodbye to him since you were going to see him again in less than 3 hours.

“Mom! Help me pick out a dress, please. Taeil got a table that amazing place we had for dad’s dinner a few years back and I want to look my best for him,” You kicked off your converse shoes and bolted up the stairs, yelling at your mom who was in the kitchen. 

"What? He’s got a table there? That’s amazing!“ She laughed from the kitchen.

"I know! And I need help with picking out a dress!” You were already pulling out the pins from your hair and taking off the light makeup you had on. Your mother had come into your room. 

"Calm down, honey,” Your mom pulled you away from the mirror, one eye cleaned and the other not. "You go into the bath and freshen yourself, and I will pull out all your good dresses and your color pallets,”

You were the luckiest daughter on earth. 

“Oh my God, thank you mom. I love you to bits,” You kissed her on the cheek and gave her a tight hug before being pushed into the bathroom by her.

The dress was laid flat and pressed for you on your bed, with the most beautiful pair of silver heels to match the silver details on your dress. 

You don’t remember getting that dress. 

Nonetheless, on your skin it went and so did some makeup, definitely not forgetting your favourite ring. A silver purse along with the outfit and you felt excited, not only because it was at the best restaurant with the best food you had ever had in your entire life overlooking the city, but it was also with Taeil, the only person you’d rather be with besides your family.

“Mom?” You walked down the stairs and headed for the door. “Where did you get the dress from? I seriously don’t remember–”

“You look beautiful, my baby girl,” She appeared from the living room, a bright smile plastered on her face. 

“Oh my, it’s like 5 minutes past 7, he’s already outside waiting for you, better not be late,” She opened the door for you. “Have fun,” Pulling you into the tightest hug in awhile, she brushed away the small strands that framed your face prettily, looking at the gorgeous earrings and necklace you had put on as well.

Taeil was looking like the most gorgeous man on earth, and for a moment, you refused to believe the man in a bow tie and a suit, leaning back on his car with his hands in his pockets was the same man who had trouble looking for a dustbin this morning.

A smile spread across your face unknowingly, carefully walking down the steps of the porch and towards him. His hair was done up and as he straightened himself, you saw the glitter from the ring he had on his finger as well. 

"Well, you look handsome,“ You teased, walking up to him and realising that the heels brought your eyes up to his nose. 

"And you made the dress look really pretty. Come on, we could flirt the rest of the night but our table would be given up if we don’t get there by 8,” Taeil wrapped his arm around your shoulders and turned you around to the passenger’s seat, opening the door for you. 

As your mother watched from the window of her room, she couldn’t help but to tear up and smile to herself. 

She knew.

A table by the window with the city lights as your view? Unbelievable. 

But this moment with Taeil? This was everything.

It felt like it had been 6 seconds, the entire 6 years you had been with him. His heart was made of gold and he was more clumsy than careful, but he was patient and had the most considerate soul you had ever met. You must’ve saved a country in your past life, because you were sure you hadn’t done anything in this life to deserve him. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he laughed, his pretty teeth that made his smile the most handsome one out of all the other guys you had dated before him, his calm and gentle voice when he spoke… he was perfect for you, and nothing could ever change it. 

"Sugar,“ He called. 

"Mmm?” You hummed in response, realising that your eyes were starting to notice the couple at the table behind him was now gone, the dessert in your plate was no longer and the wine glass was only filled with about a spoon’s worth of champagne. 

"You okay? You’re zoning out,“ He laughed and finished his champagne.

"Oh, no, I’m good. Really good. Food’s amazing as ever, the city is beautiful and my view is to die for,” You smirked and raised a brow at him. He scoffed and shook his head, dabbing the corners of his mouth with the napkin.

“Isn’t the guy supposed to do most of the pick up lines? Why are you stealing my role?”

“Well, modern times call for… unconventional roles,” You shrugged and finish your drink. Taeil smiled and looked at you.

“Come on, we’ve done everything you love today, time to head to somewhere I love," 

Thank the gods your heels were surprisingly comfortable, though you also couldn’t remember how you got them. Taeil had brought you to his favourite park, one where you could see the river and the city lights on the opposite side. 

The wind was chilly, but comfortable after he had wrapped his blazer around you and hugged your waist under the coat. There were two or three joggers every few minutes, but otherwise, a rather peaceful and quiet night, unlike the amusement park this morning. 

"Sugar,” He said, only loud enough for you to hear.

“Yeah,” You put your forehead on his shoulder. 

"Give me your hand,” He slowly pulled away and stretched out his palm. You looked at him weird, smiling a bit in confusion. 

"The one with our ring on it,” Taeil nodded his head toward your right hand. You looked down at both his hands and noticed he wasn’t wearing the ring anymore. 

You frowned, genuinely confused. 

Why was he not wearing the ring anymore? Was it over? Did you piss this angel off? 

He gently took your hand and pulled off the ring, and before you could process the action, he had knelt down and pulled out a velvet blue box.

“You’ve worn that ring for three years now, I thought it’ll be nice to have it… upgraded,” Taeil’s eyes were sparkling as he looked up at you. He pulled open the box and in it sat the prettiest thing you had ever seen in your life. 

"I know it’s not the most common wedding ring you’d expect to see but–“ You knelt down and kissed him, shutting him up and feeling your nose turn sour and your eyes burn a little.

"You can fulfill your role now. The guy and his pick up lines,” You whisper, barely pulling away.

“Will you marry me?” Taeil smiled, already pulling out the ring from the box.

“Yes,” You nod aggressively and hugged him tightly, before he slid the ring on your finger again after 3 years.

“You’re welcome for the shoes and dress,” He smiled, admiring the ring on that fateful finger. “And also the puppy you’ll find at home later.”

[lonelypond]

A Coffeeshop Christmas Carol, Ch. 4

NicoMaki, Love Live, 3.1K, 4/6

Summary: Maki and Nico struggle with their working relationship, Eli continues overthinking, and Umi saves the afternoon.

Read The Darn Script

Nico enjoyed working on sets. A ever changing group of students keeping up a steady bustle. And progress. Every action made a show one step closer to opening night. Right now, Nico thought, sitting in the back row, staring at the half built unpainted framework of the Christmas Carol backdrop, it could be any show, any era, anywhere, just waiting for actors to step onstage, the lights to come up and the audience to be brought into a world created from imagination. Amazing.

“Umi said you’d be here. You weren’t answering texts.” Maki’s voice announced as the door slammed against the wall.

So much for the theatre being a hushed, hallowed space. Nico giggled, refusing to look at the redhead who slumped into a seat one away from Nico and held out several pages. “Here’s your duet.”

“Duet?” The play was full of them. Nico thought it had been a clever touch. Scrooge gets a solo at the start, then duets, then a finale full of everyone’s voices.

“Marley-Scrooge. Didn’t you say it was the heart of the play?”

Had Nico said that? Probably. “What did you think of Nico’s play?”

“Haven’t read it.”

Nico spun in her seat, “Haven’t read it?”

Maki shrugged, “Not in the mood.”

Nico didn’t know she could grind her teeth, “How can you write music without knowing anything about the play?”

“Scrooge hates people, loves money, ghosts scare the love of money out of him so he reconsiders loving people. It’s the basic Dickens one, right?” The arched eyebrow had enough attitude to out diva a theatre full of leads. Nico had been enjoying the quiet, but she wasn’t going to back down.

“There” and Nico drew out every word, “are character nuances specific to Nico’s script.”

Maki blinked, “You do know composing is different from writing an essay about your writing choices. Just take a look.” Maki poked Nico’s nose with the score sheets.

Nico batted them away, “Play it for Nico..”

“I’m busy.”

“Nico is also busy.”

“I’m doing you a favor.”

That was too much for Nico, “You’re doing your job. Composer in residence. Assigned to provide music for Nico’s lyrics so that Nico can showcase her A Christmas Carol adaptation during the Christmas pageant.” Nico stood, stepping into the gap between them, “Nico spent years working on this. Show some respect.” Nico ripped the pages out of Maki’s hand, turned and stormed out of the theatre.

That hadn’t gone any of the ways Maki had anticipated.

###

Eli shuffled the cards, sitting cross legged on the floor of her studio. Let them pick? Would random be fairer? Was she overthinking? Why had Nozomi perked up so much when Nico had mentioned Umi singing? Shaking herself, Eli glanced at herself in the mirror, took out the scrunchie holding her ponytail together and let her hair fall. She was doing her students no favors getting so distracted. It had been so nice to flirt, to have someone NOTICING her. It had also been nice having someone concerned about simple things like if she was eating. It was too easy to get into the dance masochist mindset, pushing everything aside to spend all available time and energy on art. Eli had grown up in that environment, scrambling for attention and parts, obsessing over form and appearance, seeing every other dancer as a rival. It had brought out all her worst traits and when the opportunity to teach at an advanced level here had opened up, Eli had packed up her life as soon as she opened the job offer email. But it had still been lonely. The students were respectful, but responded to Eli’s professionalism by stepping back. And while there had been a whirl of introducing the faculty events, Eli’s commitment to the barre didn’t allow for much socializing.

And if she didn’t decide which students got which dances soon, she would have even less time for socializing.

###

Maki was in the undecorated, anti holiday booth, now labelled Professor Scrooge’s corner, facing the side wall, perpendicular to the entrance. In front of her, Nico’s script, a seemingly innocuous pile of paper. Her coffee was cold. It was obviously a slow afternoon because Nozomi had seemingly limitless time to stare at her. And was now approaching with a cup of fresh coffee. Nozomi sat down, dipped a finger in Maki’s old cup, and winced, “Missed opportunity there. Was a good pot. Brought you new.”

Maki sighed. “Thanks.”

Nozomi pushed the script with a finger, “Want me to read it to ya? We could make it a bedtime story kinda thing.”

Maki actually recoiled, her chair colliding with the wall, her face pale. Nozomi giggled.

Nozomi picked up a couple of pages, scanning them, “Hey, this is cute.”

Maki frowned. Cutesy Christmas had been her ongoing nightmare for the past two years.

“You’re going to hate it.” Nozomi winked, “There’s decorations everywhere.”

“Scrooge wouldn’t.”

“No, but Cratchitt does. A little oasis of merry. And then there’s Fred.”

Maki found herself willing an influx of student customers, noisy and boisterous and thirsty. Freds. They refused to appear on cue.

“What did Christmas do to you?” Nozomi wondered, this time out loud.

This had been a mistake, Maki realized. Too public. But if Maki had tried reading in her studio with the piano right there, the script would have had no chance at all. Maybe she could sneak into an empty classroom or the back of the theatre when Nico was finished with today’s building activity.

“Thank you for the coffee.” Maki put the script back in her bag, stood, picked up the coffee and fled. It was in a ceramic mug.

Nozomi leaned back, thoughtful. She wasn’t having much recent success with keeping an audience.

###

Nico sat at the rehearsal piano, the music Maki had written propped up. Inhale. Find the keys, play through once slowly to make sure she remembered which keys...there were a lot, this would be slow going. After a tangle mid keyboard over a question of chording, Nico closed her eyes, groaned, inhaled, and began again…

“Nico?” Umi Sonoda’s voice rolled in from the back of the theatre Nico had reclaimed after a quick walk along the Riverside trail to vent some anger.

“Hi, Umi. Nico will be with you in a minute. Or an hour.”

Umi had quickly reached the piano at her usual pace and now leaned over Nico’s shoulder. “Would you like me to play for you?”

“Do you have your violin?”

Umi shook her head, “Not with me and I won’t do it justice with my skill on the piano, but if you’ll forgive me sightreading, I can play it for you. If that would help.”

“Nico could have managed, but if you really want to do Nico a favor.”

Umi smiled as Nico vacated the bench at high speed, “If that is your wish.”

“Nico’s wish was for Maki to play it when she dropped it off and to have read Nico’s play but at least now Nico has something to audition actors with so Nico…

“Is Maki a problem?” Umi read through the pages once, returned them to the stand and began the sprightly lament.

Nico had one hand on Umi’s shoulder and was tapping along on the piano, shook her head, “Nico’s got it. Nothing a little more communication can’t fix. Nico likes to let artists find their stride.”

“Wise. Maki is dedicated, but new to collaborations.”

“Nico could tell.”

“How is she doing with the choreographer, Ms. Ayase?” Umi continued the conversation without interfering with the smooth flow of music. “I heard there was some friction over Maki’s decision to highlight the works of Duke Ellington.”

“Something which Nico supports. And I’ve been talking to Eli. She’s nervous about trusting her students so Nico’s been encouraging her. Newbie teacher nerves.”

“Ah.” Umi had played through twice, “You really do have things under control.”

“Of course, Nico is always on top.” Nico’s casual tone matched her lean against the piano, half paying attention, half planning duet combinations for the students who’d signed up to audition.

Umi choked on saliva.

That caught Nico’s attention and she quickly reviewed what she’d said, then grinned. “Nico is always on top of any…situation, Professor Sonoda. The Conservatory is a family institution, what else could Nico mean?”

Umi could feel the wink in the air and knew she deserved it.

“We will be avoiding the works of Cole Porter at the next gathering.”

Nico giggled, “Play the song again, please. Nico wants to sing.”

“Scrooge or Marley? I’ll take the other part.”

This was going to be a memorable afternoon. The prim Umi Sonoda in an almost playful mood, willing to duet with Nico on a Yazawa-Nishikino original.

“Marley.” The trickier part, especially as Nishikino had written it, surprising Nico who thought the lead would be the obvious stronger part. But no, Marley had a much wider range and so many emotional layers.

“Bah Humbug.” Umi declared in a ringing, stentorian tone that Nico would have never let pass from an actor on stage and the duet began.

###

A single dorm room had seemed like an ideal sanctuary for an only child like Shizuku, but right now, a passel of roommates would have been a welcome distraction from worrying about tomorrow’s audition for Professor Yazawa. Shizuku’s phone went off, she grabbed it like a lariat around the neck of a bucking bronco. Text. Kasumi.

K: Kasumin has dessert, let me up.

S: Trying to fatten me up before auditions.

K: ; )

S: I’ll be right down.

###

Maki had been staring at the text for half of Yo Yo Ma’s Bach Cello concerto, so an hour. Send or erase. But do it now. Closing her eyes, she pictured Nico storming out of the theatre, anger in her ruby eyes. As she kept reviewing the scene in her head, Maki realized she’d recognized hurt too. Auditions were tomorrow. Maki didn’t know much about the practicalities of theatre, but the day before anything was usually stressful. Biting the inside of her lip, Maki sent the message.

M: Christmas is still hard, but your script deserves my full attention. I’m sorry. I have another song ready for you. Are you still on campus? I can run it over.

Instant ping.

N: Nico is at home, could you please bring it by? A second song for auditions would be a big help to Nico.

Drop and run. Maki could do that. She didn’t want to spend another night in her studio, falling asleep at the piano. She could pick up a pizza to take home and then read the rest of Nico’s script.

M: Sure.

N: Nico appreciates it. My apartment is the upper floor of 2525 Cherry Blossom Lane.

N: if you haven’t eaten, Nico has leftovers.

M: I was going to pick up a pizza.

N: Save it for another night. Home cooked is better.

Maki grabbed her long coat, pulling a black beanie over her hair. Couldn’t hurt to be polite, could it?

###

Nico opened the door. There was warmth. And no holiday decorations, which was a relief. Maki had walked over, taking her time, which was a more than leisurely enough journey to be chilled. Nico still looked professorial, with a pink, wool cowl neck sweater and a ruffle skirt. Maki felt like an undergrad in her jeans and t-shirt, although her long gray cashmere coat could crash Carnegie Hall and fit into an opening night crowd.

“Hi, Maki! Thanks for running the music over.”

Maki nodded, glancing around the small apartment. The decorating scheme leaned cozy cute and pink, with pictures of Nico and people who looked a lot like Nico artfully placed around the room. A red framed black and white print was over the fireplace. A cute, gamine woman in black capri pants, a white turtleneck, and a wide belt with a star in the center, slinking playfully forward.

“Who’s that?” Maki asked.

“You don’t know?” Nico clucked as she shut the door, “Rita Moreno, Nico’s hero.”

Maki tilted her head, “Why?”

“EGOT.”

“Egret?”

Nico sighed, “Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony...only 15 people have won all of them.”

“Impressive.”

Nico shrugged, not really interested in things she already knew. “Sit on the couch, Nico will cook food, if you feel like playing what you’ve composed for Nico, the keyboard’s right there. Nico was working on the duet.”

“Do you want to win awards?” Maki was curious.

“Well, the Pulitzer will look nice in front of that print. They’ll probably give us each one.”

Such confidence. Maki had no response to it so continued the find out more about Nico quest.

“Have you always wanted to be a playwright?”

Maki heard Nico turn something and then Nico was standing in the archway of the kitchen. She’d added an apron with patchwork pink hearts scattered over it and was holding a whisk, “If you’re interviewing Nico, can it wait ‘til after the cooking? Nico is a master chef but omelettes take concentration.”

“Sorry.” Maki grabbed a pink pillow, also ruffled, and propped her chin on it.

###

Not an omelette, but omurice.

“Itadakimasu. Nico said and Maki muttered the same, pleasantly surprised by the Japanese custom.

“Childhood comfort food.” Nico smiled as Maki dug into her serving ravenously, “It reminded my mom of Tokyo.”

“When did she move here?”

“She and my dad did when I was a baby, before my siblings were born. Her job transferred her.”

“My family goes back and forth. My Dad is still on the board of the hospital we own there, but actually practices medicine here. I was born in Chicago though, he teaches at Northwestern.”

“Chicago is a great theatre town. Nico has visited once or twice.”

“Yeah, I always tried to see what the Goodman was staging, when I wasn’t studying.” Medical school and the accelerated undergrad program that had gotten her into medical school had left Maki almost no free time.

“Nico applied to Northwestern’s theatre department but got the job here instead.”

Natural pause in the conversation, both women eating and remembering separate experiences in Chicago.

Before things got awkward again, Maki decided to brave the thing she needed to address. Scraping her fork over the plate, she dove. “I didn’t mean to disrespect the work you put into A Christmas Carol.”

A pause. Nico leaned back on her couch, her legs underneath her, observing the woman fidgeting three feet down the couch from her, “Nico is listening.”

Maki scrubbed her hands through her hair in a manic burst, then sped through her next sentences, “I’ve just been trying so hard to avoid anything Christmas related and that’s nearly impossible this time of year and every time I open up your script, there’s Scrooge feeling the same way that I do about decorations and Fred being impossibly cheerful and…”

“You want Scrooge to take his cane and tear through decorations.”

Maki nodded, looking a little sheepish.

“Read the script. Maybe he does.” Nico grabbed both their plates and hustled to the kitchen, scraping them off. Maki heard the sound of the sink being filled. Nico wasn’t coming back right away. Maki decided to lean in the kitchen doorway and watch as Nico filled the dishwasher.

“Always stay ahead of chores.” Nico said in her best NPR announcer voice.

“Not looking for life advice.”

Nico chuckled, “That’s the polite way to say ‘you’re not my mother.’”

Maki laughed.

“Nico needs to get ahead before auditions. There’s a freezer full of meals, two months worth of instant coffee, every kind of medicinal tea Nico might need, and emergency brownie batter.”

“Are shows that complicated?”

Nico turned, eyes narrowed, “Have you never been part of a play or opera or…”

Maki shook her head.

Nico grimaced, “Oh, this will be fun for Nico.”

Maki was surprised by the sarcasm, and hastened to reassure Nico. “I’ll be fine. I’m very flexible.”

Nico raised an eyebrow. “Nico doesn’t need flexible; Nico needs prepared.”

Maki couldn’t imagine a situation involving music she couldn’t resolve, prepared or not. “Like I said, I’ll be fine. It’s a small ensemble.”

“Students are relying on us.” Suddenly Nico was right under Maki’s nose, eyes glowing like laser sights, “Nico doesn’t need “fine” or emo Christmas pity parties, Nico needs polished and professional. We have to put together a show over four weeks that contain several holidays. Fine is not what Nico wants to hear.”

“Don’t worry.” Maki stepped away from Nico.

Nico turned back to the sink, “Nico will worry less when you’ve read the script and finished the songs.”

###

Maki finished the song with a flourish. Nico had been unable to fight off a smile while listening so Maki thought she might have earned some points back.

“That was funnier than Nico expected.”

“Scrooge creeping up the stairs afraid of the dark should be funny.” Maki put the keyboard back on the low table and flopped back on Nico’s couch. “Plus, it’s a perfect moment for Scrooge’s charm to show through.”

“Scrooge isn’t charming. Scrooge is snarling.”

“And charming.”

“You’re going to make this gay again.”

“I didn’t see a song for the 20 questions type game at Fred’s party.”

“That’s because that scene gets the fun, flirty Blindman’s bluff song, which you would know if…”

“Maki read Nico’s script.”They said in unison. And laughed. Maki relaxed, just slightly.

Nico flopped back, turning her head and meeting Maki’s gaze. “I know it’s a lot and I appreciate what you’ve done so far.”

“It’s my job.” A soft, calm light in brilliant amethyst eyes, a satisfied private smile..

“It is.” A peaceful moment, quiet enough to hear the wall clock ticking, and then Nico’s face became a mask of horror, “And Nico’s job starts extra early tomorrow.” Nico stood, “C’mon, Nico will drive you home.”

Maki glanced at the time, past midnight. “I can walk home.”

“No one walks home alone on Nico’s watch, especially not in that neighborhood you live in.” As quickly as she said that, Nico had her coat on, keys in hand. “And the faster you get home, the faster songs get written.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Maki grabbed her coat, feeling an odd flutter as Nico held the door open.

“If you finish the Christmas Present duet by breakfast, Nico will give you a 24 hour pass about the script thing.”

“Don’t I get to sleep?”

“Nico will sleep for you.”

“You’re a tyrant, aren’t you.”

There was a wink and an arm slipped through hers and Maki was being skillfully guided down the stairs.

“Nico is a winner.”

Maki was beginning to believe it.

A/N: It's been a week. Or three. But I finished a chapter. Hope your Spring has something bright in it.

[authenticcadence18]

“The Start of Something New” Love Square Fluff Week Day 4: “Your Voice”/Day 6: “AU”

It’s AU Day for Fluff Week....WHICH MEANS IT’S TIME FOR A HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL AU, WOOO!!!

(this fic also counts as my contribution for Day 4, since it is all about singing...lol. Hope you enjoy!! And thanks to @lovesquarefluffweek for organizing this amazing event!!) 

AO3

-

“Any last minute sign ups?”

Ms. Bustier glanced around the auditorium over horn-rimmed glasses.

Marinette and Adrien both flinched from their position huddled at the door of the auditorium.

“....we should go…” Marinette whispered tersely, looking back at the boy behind her. His gaze remained fixed on the stage.

What had she been thinking, wanting to participate in Francois Dupont High’s winter musical as anything other than a costume designer?? Any lingering desires to do so had been squashed by Chloe Bourgeois’ RIVETING performance of the musical’s climactic emotional duet….by herself. Marinette definitely didn’t want to be witness to that every day for the next few months.

Even if it meant saying goodbye to Adrien as he drifted away to join the fencing team...right?

“No? Good? Done.”

Ms. Bustier flicked off her lamp and set about gathering her things.

As the light dimmed, Adrien’s desire to grace the stage and participate in theater swelled. Against his better judgement, he burst from the door frame and blurted out, “I’d like to audition, Ms. Bustier!!!”

Ms. Bustier whirled around and eyed Adrien incredulously before launching into a spiel about the importance of punctuality and being intentional in the theatre. Adrien’s face went red, and he cowered before her, the sharpness of her tone reminding him a little too much of his father.

Meanwhile, Marinette’s eyes practically bulged out of her head, her arms gesturing about wildly to convey thoughts she couldn’t articulate. What was Adrien THINKING??? Did he seriously want to audition for the musical NOW, after they’d spent the last half hour gathering their nerves to do so but chickening out at the last second??? She groaned, burying her head in her hands and hiding behind the door frame in an attempt to escape the awkwardness of it all...even though a tiny part of her wanted to join her new friend.

“The individual auditions are long long over, and there are simply no other pairs!!” Ms. Bustier finished.

Marinette peeked out at Adrien, who’d deflated at Ms. Bustier’s last words. Seeing such a sad expression on his face did something funny to her heart.

And suddenly, her heart was taking over for her brain.

“I’ll sing with him!!!” she called out before clasping her hands in front of her mouth.

HAD SHE REALLY JUST SAID THAT??!?!? Warning sirens went off in Marinette’s head, a precursor to the panic and shame that most certainly awaited her in Ms. Bustier’s response.

...but the way Adrien caught her eye and smiled at her as she timidly emerged from behind the door frame made it worth it.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng!!” Ms. Bustier articulated, eyebrow raised. “I thought you were just a costume designer. Did you bring something for me to look at?”

“No, like I said before, I’m here to….” Marinette hesitated before glancing at Adrien.

“...I’m here to sing with him.”

Ms. Bustier pursed her lips and shook her head. “Yes, well, as sweet as that is, we take shows VERY seriously here at Francois Dupont High. I called for the pairs’ audition, and you didn’t respond.”

“But--” Marinette protested as Ms. Bustier walked towards the door. “He has an amazing voice!!!”

“Perhaps the NEXT musicale,” Ms. Bustier snipped back before leaving the room.

Marinette chanced a glance at Adrien, almost afraid to witness the devastation he must be feeling.

But, to her surprise, he didn’t appear sad at all….in fact, he was looking at her, an awestruck twinkle in his eyes.

“...you think I have an amazing voice?” he whispered shyly.

Marinette flushed, memories of a certain New Year’s Eve party tumbling back into the forefront of her mind.

“Of course I do…” she replied softly. “It’s just a shame that no one else will ever get to hear it….”

Adrien smiled at her, and gently took her hand in his. “Well, for what it’s worth, knowing you like it is all the recognition I need. And...you have an amazing voice too.”

Marinette’s heart thundered in her chest. “...thanks…” she breathed.

A cough and pointed exclamation of, “Are we interrupting something?” snapped Adrien and Marinette out of their reverie. They both jumped and turned in the direction of the stage. One of the show’s writers--a girl with firey red hair and glasses--waved at them with a cheeky grin before gesturing for them to join her onstage. The show’s other writer--a boy wearing glasses and a red baseball cap--awkwardly waved as well.

Adrien and Marinette exchanged a glance before shrugging and walking towards the stage.

“I’m Alya, and this is my boyfriend Nino!!” the girl exclaimed cheerfully. “We wanted to introduce ourselves. It’s too bad Ms. Bustier didn’t let you guys audition...we were hoping more pairs would show up.”

“Oh well, It’s nice to meet you anyway!” Adrien replied. “You guys co-wrote the musical, right?”

“Yup!!!” Nino replied proudly, reaching out to shake Adrien’s hand. “Alya came up with the story, and I composed the music!!!”

“It was going to be so amazing….until CHLOE came along and ruined everything…” Alya grumbled, crossing her arms with a pout. “Our musical is SUPPOSED to be the dramatic story of two heroes whose love for each-other is the only obstacle separating them...but if Chloe has it her way, it’ll end up being about a stuck up superhero showing off for two hours.”

Marinette cocked an eyebrow, not quite understanding Alya’s description of the plot. “Can you tell us more about your story?”

“Of course!!!!” Alya replied, clearly eager to divulge the details of her script. “Our two main characters are Bridgette and Felix. In their everyday lives, they’re classmates. Bridgette loves Felix more than anything, but he never sees her as anything more than a friend because he’s already in love with his superhero partner...who just happens to be Bridgette!!!”

“Wait wait wait,” Adrien replied, brows furrowed. “I’m confused. So….Bridgette and Felix are also superheroes?”

“Yes, they’re secretly the dynamic duo of Ladybug and Chat Noir! One is gifted with the power of creation, the other destruction. Every night, they take to the streets of Paris to protect the world from villainy!! Chat Noir is helplessly in love with Ladybug, but she always refuses him because she’s already in love with another boy...but the other boy IS Chat Noir, she just doesn’t know it!!”

Both Marinette and Adrien blinked.

“So they love each other….but they also don’t? That’s….a bit convoluted….” Marinette pointed out.

“Oh, it totally is,” Nino agreed with a chuckle. “But that’s the beauty of it!!”

“The pining, the longing, the dramatic irony! It’s BRILLIANT!!!” Alya insisted, swooning over her boyfriend’s shoulder.

Marinette and Adrien shared a grin at her dramatics.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir were written to be equals and SOULMATES, but CHLOE doesn’t like that idea at all….she wants the show to be all about Ladybug and get rid of Chat Noir entirely…..and since no one else showed up to audition for the leads, she’s probably going to get her wish...

“Which is a shame, because the duet Nino wrote for them is stunning. It’s all about the conflicted love Bridgette and Felix feel for one another, both in and out of the masks.”

“I’d love to hear it…” Marinette said wistfully, already swept away in the possibilities of the love story that could emerge from such an interesting concept.

“Do you have sheet music?” Adrien asked, gesturing to the instrument on the right side of the stage. “I play piano.”

“WE DO!!!!” Alya replied animatedly, grabbing a folder and flipping through it before extracting a few pages of sheet music and practically throwing them at Adrien.

Adrien smiled and crossed the stage, sitting down and the piano and squinting at the song’s key signature. He played a few scales to warm up the key.

He looked over his shoulder at Marinette. “Shall we?” he asked with an invitational grin and a wink.

Marinette gulped.

Singing a generic karaoke song at a New Year’s Eve party with Adrien was one thing.

But singing an emotional duet? Told from the perspective of two characters who were supposedly soulmates? With Adrien?? Could she do that???

...her brain said no, but her heart screamed yes.

“...let’s do it.”

The first notes of a lilting melody echoed across the stage. Adrien’s fingers floated across the keys, a hint of the main tune emerging in the intro before being echoed in his voice….

“I see her standing at my side….she smiles at me once, then looks away….I think I understand her strange game.”

Marinette took a deep breath before repeating the melody back.

“I see him and then, I’m not myself…my face turns red, my voice goes soft…I can’t breathe but my heart’s beating fast…"

...and suddenly her heart WAS beating fast.

“Run away!!” Adrien sang out, a rawness escaping from his throat as the notes climbed higher. “That’s what I have to do! My heart’s upside down, and yet something pulls me away and beyond this wall between us!”

“But why?” Marinette sang back, gradually losing herself in the story. “Why can’t I talk to him now? …I wish he were mine, ‘cause his light and his smile bring me over this wall that exists between us……”

The song continued, Marinette and Adrien’s voices intertwining as the lyrics became more passionate.

From her position across the stage, Alya pressed “record” on her phone, grinning like crazy.

...

“I’ll wait for you for all my life…because it’s true, I love you madly... Our love will blossom infinitely…..”

Marinette and Adrien’s voices faded away. As the final chord of the song rang out, their eyes left the sheet music and met each other, blue meeting green amidst the notes as they faded away.

For a moment...they forgot about Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Or, for just a moment…maybe they were Ladybug and Chat Noir.

“....I think we’ve found what we’ve been looking for…” Alya excitedly whispered to Nino.

“DUPAIN-CHENG. AGRESTE.”

Ms. Bustier’s voice rang out.

“You have a callback!”

...

Thanks so much for reading!!! If you guys like this AU, maybe I’ll write more for it someday! (I have a few more ideas for it, lol!)

[kclenhartnovels]

Episode Two

[Episode One]

Kate startled awake around midnight as music suddenly blasted in the apartment.

It started with a sensual saxophone solo, cresting with a low, steady back beat and a crooning voice that spoke of cheating lovers and nights of passion. Kate sat up abruptly, clutching the sheets to hold it over her naked chest. “DeWitt!”

“It’s alright,” they called, standing in front of the window and pooled by the neon city lights. They had sent Kate to bed fully clothed, and they had been the same, but now the pair of them were nude, and DeWitt didn’t seem at all surprised. “We were supposed to be having sex by now, that’s all. The music is to cover up the sounds.”

“But where is it coming from?” she asked, twisting her head to try and find the source. She had to shout over the volume of it, but she was sure that her voice was husky for a different reason.

DeWitt shrugged, toying with an unlit cigarette and leaning their forehead against the cool windowpane. “The same place the dramatic chords come from whenever someone dies. Or the trendy pop music whenever there’s a big battle scene.”

“But I’ve never heard that before.”

They lifted their head, and for once their lips cracked in a smile. “Really? This is the first time you’ve heard the sex music?”

She nodded. Her curly hair bounced with enthusiasm. “Yes, and Trent and I have had sex a lot. It seems every time he comes home from a night of danger, I patch him up and scold him, and then we make love all night. I’ve never heard this before.”

“That’s good,” DeWitt enthused. “It means we’re starting to break your narrative, and you can see outside of it. I mean, it’s not great for your eardrums, but it’s a step closer to saving your life.”

“How long is this going to last?” she asked, dropping the blankets in favor of holding a pillow around her ears. A black bar politely appeared to cover her nudity.

DeWitt shrugged. “Usually doesn’t last longer than a few minutes. It’s a story, after all, not an erotica.” Their eyebrows lifted a moment. “God, I hope this isn’t an erotic fanfiction arc. Those always go bizarre directions, and you never know who they throw in as a crossover.”

“What?” Kate yelled around the pillow.

DeWitt offered her a smile. They pushed away from the window at last, pouring two glasses from a bottle of whiskey whose label was politely tilted to hide the brand. “This is how you can tell we have no sponsors,” they remarked, picking up the bottle and turning it. No matter which way it faced the light, the label was crossed with odd shadow, and all that could be made out was WHISKEY in all capital letters.

The music at last faded off with one last triumphant blast of saxophone. Kate dropped the pillow with a sigh of relief. Her hair was attractively rumbled, and she pulled her shirt back on without trying to find her bra. “Why is that whiskey gray?”

They shrugged. Their hat had appeared on again, but no other clothing. The long shadows politely created a deep blackness between hip and thigh. “Some of the things I bring never seem to get colored. There are days my skin is gray, too.”

Kate took the glass with a little smile, the ice rattling too-loud. A bead of condensation rolled over the edge of the glass and skipped across her fingers. “You were saying something about breaking my narrative?”

DeWitt pulled on a pair of pants, and sat across from her. They laced both hands around their glass, and stared into it as if it held all the answers. “It’s the only way to pull you from the story before the writer decides to kill you off. Sometimes keeping you absent will make the writer forget about you, but the artist seems very fond of you.” They glanced up again, watching the way the neon lights caught against her dark skin, a myriad of color that highlighted her cheekbones, the curve of her jaw, the angle of her shoulder, the ice in her glass. “We may need to take more drastic action. You need to break up with Trent.”

She dropped her glass. It shattered. Ice skidded across the floor, landing in a pool of light.

“His villain’s name is Frosticle,” DeWitt muttered, then swore. “Foreshadowing.”

“I can’t break up with Trent,” she said, clasping DeWitt’s hands. “I love him, Agent. He’s--I’m nothing without him. And he needs me.”

“He needs you to further his story.” They squeezed Kate’s hand, then stood to get a broom. “I’ll go with you in the morning, and we will see if we can’t get you quietly written out of this story before you end up in a refrigerator. Or worse.”

“What could be worse than being put in a refrigerator?”

DeWitt swept up the glass. “Oh, Ms. Jackson, I’ve seen so much. Strapped to barrels and blown up while the hero saves a future villain instead. Dropped from a clock tower and and killed inches from the hero’s fingers. Shot with a bullet meant for the hero. Killed as they are confessing their love, killed while pregnant, anything to make the pain worse for the protagonist. Spy movies are even worse--I’ve seen girls encased in gold, attacked by dogs, drowned in oil, poisoned, hit by cars, eaten by piranhas, and shot more times than I can count. It’s a dismal world for the devalued woman.”

“I don’t feel like Trent devalues me.”

“It’s not Trent that I’m worried about. He’s not the one writing this, after all.” They stole a glance towards the window as day broke too quickly, sending lances of red across the floor. Too bright, too red, and DeWitt was sure that the artist was laying the doom on a bit too thick to expect Kate to last until nightfall. They would have to move faster. “Let’s get coffee, and go find your boyfriend.”

****

DeWitt swore that, despite being a city that spanned ninety square miles, Sugar, Honey, Ice, and Tea was the only coffee shop. They couldn’t remember ever seeing another one, but despite that, the line was never longer than it took for them to complete a conversation, and there was always a table available to sit.

“Have you ever noticed, Ms. Jackson, the incongruities of our daily lives?”

Kate fussed with her spoon, stirring her coffee more than necessary, though the swirl of cream and coffee refused to blend. “I’ve noticed that my coffee never cooperates.”

“It’s more satisfying to ink a high contrast swirl like that,” DeWitt said sympathetically. “Look around a moment. Do you ever remember getting coffee from any other cafe? Do you notice anyone familiar, even though you come here every day?”

“How did you know I come here every day?”

“Ms. Jackson. Where else would you go?”

She wasn’t sure what to say, just screwed up her face and stirred her coffee with more force. “I don’t know. I don’t really pay attention to people when I’m in line.”

“What about the workers?”

Her gaze flicked up, settling on the perpetually sullen goth girl manning the register, her colored contacts and lip ring never so much as twitching from the long line of flirtatious regulars and complicated orders. Behind her, a man worked as barista, his shoulders at least twice the width of the machine, the steam billowing in front of his face. His jaw was too square, and his brow too heavy, and DeWitt couldn’t help but think it was extremely lazy henchman design.

“They’re the same as I see every day,” she said mildly. “The barista hardly ever says a word, aside from calling out orders. His name tag says Joe, but everyone behind the counter calls him Steve. The cashier’s name is Demeter, and she hates it. She’s dating a man named Harold, and she hates his name, too.”

“I don’t think I would like the name Harold, either,” DeWitt agreed, still watching the barista fill orders.

“Hey, do you think we should think up a first name for you?” Kate asked brightly. “I mean, something aside from Agent.”

They shrugged. “Truth be told, Ms. Jackson, it doesn’t bother me any longer. Let’s focus on you, first.”

“I think you’re overthinking this, Agent DeWitt. I mean, we’re in the middle of a coffee shop. What could possibly--?”

“Kate?”

She whirled around, her hair flying out behind her to take up at least three panels. Immediately, she smiled, and stood to meet the young man who called from the door. “Trent!”

DeWitt swallowed a groan. Trent Terrigan was precisely what they expected: shapely muscles even in their civilian clothes, a mop of blond hair that they supposed was charmingly messy, and troubled green eyes. A perfect poster boy for a superhero. DeWitt could already see him holding Kate’s body, screaming at the top of his lungs in the middle of a broken building, the light pouring in through the shattered ceiling.

“Kate, where were you last night? You never answered my text. I was so worried.” Trent crossed the distance between them quickly, and pulled his girlfriend into his arms. Kate’s head fit perfectly against his chest, tucked under his chin as she hugged him back. “When I got home and you weren’t there, I thought--oh, I thought something terrible must have happened to you.”

“I had a weird night,” she answered at last, and stepped back. She touched a fresh bruise on his jaw with a frown. “What happened?”

Trent pulled his head away, and looked off into the distance above her head. “It’s nothing.” DeWitt could see the flashback panels appearing behind Trent, showing quick clips of a battle with some great beast made of ice.

DeWitt cleared their throat, and stood at last. “Ms. Jackson.”

“Oh! Yes.” She pulled out of Trent’s arms, though reluctantly. “Trent, this is Agent DeWitt. I was staying with them last night.”

“Agent?” he repeated. “What agency do you work with?”

“The SCPA, Mr. Terrigan, and we’ve placed Ms. Jackson under our protection. And she has something she needs to tell you.”

“ASPCA? She’s not a dog.”

“Wrong acronym, Mr. Terrigan,” DeWitt corrected. “Common mistake.”

Kate tilted her chin, and stood beside DeWitt as if she could draw strength from them. “Trent. I want to break up.”

The lights in the cafe flickered, and the color drained from Trent’s face. “What? Kate, no. Why? Is it this--this Agent? Are you leaving me for them?”

“No. Trent, I love you, but--”

“%#@!,” said DeWitt.

I love you was enough. The espresso machine flew across the room, crashing between Trent and Kate and narrowly missing both of them. DeWitt pulled her back behind them quickly, and Trent turned to face the barista who was already climbing over the counter. Electricity crackled along Trent’s knuckles, and he immediately crouched into a dynamic pose.

“Power Surge,” the barista greeted, rolling up his sleeves as the other customers scattered to the corners of the room. “Frosticle sends her regards.”

DeWitt pushed Kate under the table as the barista picked up a chair and threw it at Trent’s head. The lights flickered overhead, then the bulbs popped one after another, sending shards of glass flying through the cafe. DeWitt drew their gun, standing guard over Kate as the first bolt of electricity from Trent’s hands sent the metal chair flying back at the barista, glowing blue from the charge.

“Please don’t shoot them!” Kate pleaded from under the table, grabbing DeWitt’s pant leg.

“Probably wouldn’t hurt them anyway,” they muttered, then pulled the trigger, firing the gun into the air. A vibrant red and yellow BANG accented the shot.

Both men stopped, staring at DeWitt in surprise.

“I have one question,” they said to the barista, the gun still pointed at the ceiling. “Is your name Joe, or Steve?”

The barista shrugged his massive shoulders. “It depends on the edition.”

DeWitt produced a business card, and offered it to the brute of a man. “Come by my office later on. I think you and I need to have a conversation. Kate,” they added, leaning down to help her back to her feet, “come on, you can come back with me.” They walked her to the door, picking their way through the broken glass and the tangled wreck of an espresso machine. “Gentlemen. As you were.”

The door swung shut. DeWitt heard the fight music swell again, and put their back to the chaotic fight within the cafe. Instead, they took off their coat, and draped it over Kate’s shoulders.

She held it close. “What do we do now?”

“Now, Ms. Jackson, we go back to my apartment and see if we broke your narrative enough.”

****

The rest of the day passed in relative quiet; when they returned, DeWitt’s apartment had at least expanded to a one-bedroom instead of a studio, and the couch and coffee table afforded them the option to play cards and talk. They ordered takeout for dinner, delivered by a tiny Chinese man who spoke only broken English, and DeWitt ate with a fork instead of chopsticks. Kate showered at least three times, and spent most of the afternoon in a towel or lingerie.

As the sun finally began to sink low, Kate stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, pressing her hands against them as she watched the city. The evening light cast long shadows across her face, accenting the arch of her cheekbones and curve of her lips. Somehow, her makeup was still impeccable, even if her hair was still damp from the latest shower. She was about to speak, then gasped, the noise coming with tremor marks in the air around her.

“Agent DeWitt, something is happening!”

Her breath frosted the window. DeWitt swore under their breath as ice crystals crackled up the pane, thin and spidery at first, then cementing to a solid block that completely obscured the view of the waking city. The room dropped in temperature, and their breaths clouded in front of them.

“Frosticle,” DeWitt guessed, pulling down the brim of their hat and pulling the revolver from their belt. Their long black coat flapped in a breeze that wasn’t there. “I guess we’ll have to deal with her first.”

Kate shivered, wrapping a blanket. “Agent DeWitt, I’m frightened.”

“Of course you are, Ms. Jackson. Otherwise you wouldn’t be a damsel in distress.”

She bit her lip. Frost tipped her black curls. “I need to call Trent.”

“Don’t. I’ll take care of it.”

“Are you going to shoot her?”

“Shoot her?” DeWitt looked down at the gun in their hand, then holstered it with an irritated sigh. “Of course not. I’m going to talk with her.”

Before Kate could protest, they crossed the small room (still cursing that their two-bedroom had shrunken. They were sure that their rent wouldn’t reflect the new size.) They unlocked their door, put on what they hoped was a calm and disarming smile, and swung it open. The hall outside was at least ten degrees warmer than their apartment, and also devoid of life.

Behind DeWitt, the iced-over windows shattered inwards.

Kate screamed, throwing the blanket over her head to protect her face. The crunch of heels on glass echoed the smile that curled the corner of Frosticle’s white-painted lips, stark contrast to her dark skin.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

DeWitt closed the door behind them, turning to face Frosticle and sighing through their nose. “Ah, yes, we’ve been expecting you, Miss--?” They paused, and a frown creased between their eyes. Though six-inch heels made her look taller, and her mermaid-cut white rhinestone dress was almost more revealing than anything Kate had worn, her face was unmistakably similar to the one still hiding beneath the blanket.

“Ms. Jackson, why didn’t you tell me that you had an identical sister?” DeWitt sighed.

Kate cowered on the floor, lifting one corner of the blanket carefully. “I don’t. I have an evil twin sister.”

Frosticle smiled, and extended one hand towards DeWitt, curls of ice spiraling up from her palm. “And honey, I’m so good at being bad.”

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