#We are NOT the kind of people who would casually hang with a millionaire

[alexjcrowley]

New dad lore unlocked, what the fuck do you mean your friend knew Luca di Montezemolo so you did a test drive with a Ferrari once

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

https://www.tumblr.com/seasurfacefullofclouds1/744672247980195840/it-wasnt-a-failure-of-understanding-of-harrys

Not sure if its a good way to start my ask but i was a larrie until couple of months and i still feel very bad that am not able to let it go.. this is not my life until last year and its just i feel too much all the time.. am not able to let it go that louis and harry are not together and seeing your blog and going through stuff that is not said anywhere is making me so angry.. how the truth is twisted and made into a fantasy, i guess its not even people fault who write only about their perception because they think of boys in a certain way rather than what actually happened and what has been happening and how unfair L is being treated.. am angry with myself that why am i bothered when a millionaire white male(H) has turned to be what they usually are.. i did not believe harry relationship with olivia but when i saw pattern of H and his personal trainer i was feeling very bad.. very bad for louis.. i know you don’t believe they are together but i did and i felt so betrayed.. you might think thats its silly to feel such strongly but trust me am unable believe myself.. it could’ve been that louis has broken up with harry or the otherway but i cannot help but feel sad for louis.. he is someone who deserves a better man than H but he also seem to take a lot of time to get into a relationship unlike someone who has relationships with every other random person.. may be that trainer is a good person but harry’s way of parading his girlfriends or boyfriends around the world is disgusting and people actually are doing is it just something else altogether.. i wanna sit with louis and wanna hear all about what he has to say and kick everyone that hurt him so badly..

Hi there!

I can’t say that I know enough about Brad the Trainer, except that sometimes he and Harry are in casual photos together? Honestly, idk anything.

I know when fandom hangs on certain myths (the two-week rule, we-kind-of-share-that, Louis supports Harry at his concerts, Harry is secretly helping Louis’ career), it can feel very personally anxiety-provoking when an event contradicts the mythology, like when they spent months during pandemic obviously thousands of miles apart.

I used to be a Larrie, and I remember those moments of huge doubt, only to have the fandom twist the truth so hard to eliminate the doubters. Then it would always turn to old gifs, jokes, memes, and fanfiction to make everything comfy again.

Here’s the thing. I think once you let go of “they still might be together,” you should try to question every assumption, even something like, “They check up on each other.” Do they though? Do they even have time?

Unlike fans, Louis and Harry know what they are (individually) doing every day, they don’t have to guess. Their days are often filled with work and meetings. They’re with friends. They have to plan months, years into the future. They have to talk to doctors, dentists, stylists, publicists, tour managers, graphic designers, producers… you get the idea.

I promise you they are NOT reading fan tweets or Tumblr posts and sending secret signals or anons. I promise you they aren’t coordinating what they wear, let alone colors. They aren’t checking each other’s lyrics or interviews or gossip pages or haircuts or fanfic-inspired movies or whatever, because their lives are already too busy; they are two separate people.

So I doubt that Louis is sitting at home feeling sad that Harry is dating whomever, because it probably never crosses his mind. Louis is living his own very full, very fulfilling, very fun, and probably at times very stressful life. He has employees he needs to pay, and investments in future projects that aren’t easy and aren’t jokes. Life isn’t just about getting on stage for 90 minutes every few days.

Instead, feel happy for Louis that he has so much going on, and that he is the master of his life. He can choose to settle down with someone or not. He can like whatever he wants to like on Instagram. He can design his 28 clothing campaigns the way he wants it. Louis’ stage design is his creation. He can choose not to perform at an Azoff venue, ever. He can support and listen to whatever artist he wants without worrying about their label or management affiliation. He watches the shows he wants to watch, wears the designers he wants to wear. He can spend money on his band, taking them on outings, and trust them completely. All of this is so much more than what he had before— and his joy shows.

Welcome to your freedom.

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 7/?

Word Count: 3.5k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your Name, A/N Any Name (your best friend’s name), (Name) - your ex’s name !genderneutral (Don’t use a DC character! Y/N hasn’t dated any other DC character!) :)

3.5k words, my god. And they’ve still only known each other for 4 days and we’re on part 7. I do not know how to finish this.

Lol, Enjoy!

Warnings: Swearing, Heated moments, There is French in this one, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Falling asleep in Jason’s arms after that escapade the two of them pulled the night before was something magical to say the least. Of course, they only got like 5 hours of sleep before they had to wake up and get out, at risk of Y/N being caught in the building, although the thrill of it excited the both of them deeply, but that’s obvious. They liked breaking the rules already.

Riding back home seemed a lot less like a journey to her this time, she just wanted to spend more time with Jason, but he had work and she didn’t want to hang out at Wayne Enterprises. She’d probably go to the library today, she didn’t know exactly what she’d do today, but she always thought that was the most exciting thing ever. “I don’t know what I’m even going to do tomorrow,” one of her friends asked when she moved to Gotham, ‘How exciting!’ she answered.

That friend said the next day she ran through the streets of Metropolis with her arms outstretched like a kid, and she did it in Y/N’s honor. “I told you!” she said, “How exciting that sometimes you never know what you’re going to do tomorrow!”.

These thoughts swirled in her head as Jason drove her back home when, like clockwork, like it was out of a movie, he said,

“I have no idea what I’m even going to do today.”

She laughed, “I always say ‘How exciting!’ when someone says that to me.”

“Really?”

“One of my friends back home, when I gave her that advice, she then spent the next day running around the city with her arms outstretched in my honor, it was apparently one of the more fun things she’s ever done, so” she paused, “I really mean it. how exciting! The possibilities are endless, are they not?”

“Well, not really, I have work to do,” he frowned.

“So own it. Make the office your bitch. Take charge, take lead.”

“Why not?” he said in agreement.

“Why the fuck not.”

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

Jason walked her to her door, “Won’t you be late?” she asked,

“Dad knows where I am, I don’t think I’ll have my ass handed to me.”

“You never know,” she laughed.

He laughed too and slightly pecked her lips. He wanted more, he was hungry for more out of that kiss, but work and life gets in the way of their relationship, and he really whined when he had to break away, but she laughed at it.

“Slow your roll Tiger, one day,” she mused.

“You say that like you don’t want more.”

“This isn’t about me,” she retorted, “So, shut up, respectfully.”

He laughed and kissed the back of her hand, “You have a thing for doing that, huh?” she joked.

“I literally don’t know how to answer that, I think I’m losing my touch with flirting,” he joked back.

“Okay, okay, you need to get going now.”

“Fine! You want to get rid of me so badly, I get it,” he joked and walked back to the car and she waved him off. She hated that time he left, a lot. She knew it was healthy to take a day’s break if they’ve been on 3 back-to-back dates, but that didn’t mean she liked it.

She opened her door and walked in, thinking A/N was asleep so she wouldn’t be barraged for her hair being a mess, but, boy oh boy, was this girl waiting for her to get home.

“What happened? Why’s your hair a mess? Oh my god, did you have sex?” she asked.

“No, but we kissed, will you take that as information while I shower or do you want all the details now?”

“You can shower, you can shower. I’m not that needy.”

“Yes you are,” Y/N joked and went to go shower.

And like she always did, she opened her phone and looked at the news before answering her friends,

Millionaire’s Son, Jason Todd's Girlfriend’s Name Revealed!

She laughed, cause it wasn’t her name. She didn’t think he was seeing anyone else, and they used her picture, so she knew they just fucked it. She forwarded the article to Jason with the caption ‘ Fuckin’ idiots’ .

She then answered Artemis, who asked Did you two kiss? Dick’s up my ass about it ‘cause he knows we’re friends.

I want to take that out of context so badly. She joked with Artemis.

I knew this man had a terrible name that would come to haunt me, but did ‘ya kiss?

Yeah we did. Get Dick out of your ass, though, that’s weird, you have a boyfriend and he has a girlfriend.

Shut up, you’re not funny.

I’m pretty funny.

You are but I’m not going to admit that, girl.

And one of her old friends had texted her, it was someone who Y/N had seen off and on the past few years, they were polite, but she didn’t exactly want to speak to her ex.

Hey.

(Name)? What do you want?

Saw you in the news with the rich boy, guess we’re over?

We have been over for like 5 months, my guy. 

Bitch.

Okay!

People from her hometown were noticing her in the articles and recognizing her. Some would think this is the coolest thing that someone they loved met a nice boy, the money a bonus, some would give her the reaction her ex did, but she knew she was days, hours, maybe minutes away from her parents finding out about her love affair with Jason.  

She shuddered at the thought, she loved her parents, a lot, but something told her that maybe they wouldn’t did Jason to be like she found him. She also knew she could be overthinking it entirely and they’d like the Criminal Psych Major that she knew all-too-well.

But overthinking was fun, apparently. And she couldn’t stop thinking the worst of so much.

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

When she got changed and just threw on whatever the fuck she saw, she went out to go talk to A/N.

“Hey, nerd. I’m done,” Y/N said.

“Nerd? You’re the one dating the bookworm and  you’re in criminal psychology,” she joked.

“Ha, ha. So, how are things with your lover? Have you secured him yet or are you just doing your own thing still?”

“Still just doing our own thing, don’t really have the time to date while getting my degree and working.”

“I mean, if it works for you I can’t throw judgment.”

“What about Jason? How’re things with you two?”

“You ever seen the Wayne Enterprises Ballroom before?”

“In pictures, why- Don’t tell me he took you there you lucky bitch?!”

“Then I just wont tell you,” she laughed.

“The Ballroom? Oh my god, that’s crazy, he's really pulling out all the stops to make you smile, huh?”

“I would do the same if I had more to offer, but I have barely anything since I bought that place in the dance competition across the country,” she said.

Y/N had bought a place in this competition before she met Jason, and she was heading to it on Saturday, in two days, and she actually had practiced the routine during downtime between her and Jason. She hadn’t exactly told Jason about this, and Jason had asked why she looked strained and like her muscles hurt, but that just never seemed like something you share with your casual partner, to her. She never seemed like her casual competitions were worth anything. A/N had begged to differ since Y/N had met her.

A/N said that Y/N had talent, that she could go somewhere, Y/N saw it as an extra circular that didn’t affect her much. She wasn’t the type of brag, and all her trophies were back home with her parents, anyway.

“Have you told him about your,” insert A/N’s heavy sarcasm, “’Casual’  competitions, yet?”

Idk what the hell happened with that line ya love to see it

“I’ll send him a quick text about it, I guess,” she sighed and sent just a quick, Hey, can’t have a date on Saturday-Sunday, forgot to tell you but I’m going to Cali for a quick dance competition, lol. My bad, shoulda said something.

“Why are you like this, be proud of your accomplishments, dammnit!”

“It’s a casual competition!”

“And you’re talented! I’m this close to just showing him videos of you going at it,” she said, exasperated.

“He already knows, we danced in the Ballroom.”

“Oh my lord,” she laughed, “You’re an enigma, if I had your amount of trophies I wouldn’t be hiding it.”

“Im’ not hiding it! It just kind of never came up.”

And he texted back, Oh damn, are you at least going to kill it? You better, I want to show the live broadcast to my family and brag.

She laughed, “See!”, she exclaimed, showing A/N the texts, “He doesn’t care like you do, nerd.”

A/N laughed, “Sure he doesn’t. Do you want to go to lunch, by the way? I’m bored off of my ass.”

“Sure, why the fuck not.”

“Go get dressed then, and I’ll do the same.”

“Okay okay, meet up in 10?”

“Yes ma’am.”

And off they went.

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

Y/N texted back Jason for a quick minute before getting dressed, Of course I’m going to kill it, my notes aren’t a representation of my dancing skills.

Well, I hope you win something. And text me. But mainly win something.

Of course I’ll text you, Jay. It gets boring at competitions.

You should go to a Wayne Gala then, god damn, those fuckin bastards are the most boring events this side of America.

Well maybe you’ll invite me one day.

I’ll probably have to if you show up on National TV. The press will finally know your name.

I hope I’m not on National TV then. Fuck the press.

Fuck the press indeed.

Since Y/N didn’t feel the need or want to dress up, she didn’t. Quick shirt and jeans and she was out the door. Sometimes she would dress up for lunch dates with her friends, just because she was bored as fuck and dressing up was fun, but she just didn’t want to do it today. Combat boots, jeans and a shirt were enough most days. You don’t have to be a model just because the press knows your face, she thought, you don’t.

“Who’s driving?” A/N asked.

“I can if you want. I don’t mind,” Y/N said as they walked to the beat up car they loved so much. It was nothing compared to the Porsche she had been in the night before, but it was still running, and you don’t fix something that ain’t broke.

“Maybe your boyfriend will buy you a new car,” A/N joked.

“If anything, he’d buy me a new computer, since mine is getting mailed to me and you’re going to love hearing the sounds that bitch makes,” she retorted.

“Is it bad?”

“Terrible. My sister called it a screaming electronic goat once,” she laughed, “I hate that fucking thing. But if it ain’t broke-”

“Don’t fix it, I know.”

“Exactly.”

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

For some reason, they decided in the car to go to McDonald's, because hey, it’s not like Y/N is on a  dance diet or anything. She wasn’t, because she didn’t want to starve herself for the sake of winning a competition. That was even her thought process as she was younger and more vulnerable to her teachers, she always told them she’d never do that. Years later, she still stuck to that mindset.

They got out of the car and like fucking clockwork, the press was in her face.

“You! The girl with no name, Jason Todd’s girlfriend!”

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!” she whispered under her breath, “How do they always find me!”

“Tell us about yourself! Are you serious with Jason? How do you feel about his family? How-”

But then she had an idea,

“Quoi? Je parle pas l’Anglais? Qu’est-ce-que vous voulez?” she said, using her bilingual skills to her advantage.

“What? No I mean-”

“Pas de l’Anglais! Désolé mes amis!” and she ran off into the McDonald's with A/N.

“Did you just speak French to get them off your ass, you genius?”

“Spoke very broken French because I wasn’t thinking, but yeah, I did that.”

“I forget you’re multi-talented sometimes, you have a lot hidden under your belt and I try to treat you like a normal person but you’re far from it.”

“I appreciate you for trying, but I think with my new love affair, you aren’t going to get far with those attempts anymore, sorry,” she joked.

Jason texted her, Did you just speak French to avoid the press?

How do you know about that?

We were watching the news during a meeting and they said that you spoke French.

You got to do what you got to do to get by.

That is literally the most genius thing I’ve heard of anyone doing in so long. I think you’ve truly bamboozled them for a while and they might hop off of your back for a while.

You think so? ‘Cause I really hope that’s the case.

My siblings think it’s hilarious, and no one’s leaked that you are just joking with the press, so yeah, they might actually leave you alone.

Let’s fucking go. That is the news of the 21st century.

4 days of knowing each other and you’ve flipped off the press twice, outran them with me once, hid in the Wayne Enterprises Building with me and you’ve spoken French to bamboozle the press. That is impressive.

I feel like the press is going to hate me one day.

Probably. But they also hate most of us most days.

You should probably get back to work.

Yeah, talk to you soon.

She put her phone away and went to stand with A/N, who was waiting for their food.

“Talking to your lover?” she joked.

“When am I not doing that?”

“That’s valid.”

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

Going on a lunch date with A/N made a little bit of the harassment just better. They both bonded over how they hated the press before her love affair with Jason, and how their opinions wouldn’t change much unless, knock on wood, one of them went missing. Y/N told her about all the cases where the press and the internet did so much to solve cases around the world, love or hate the press, they did do a lot for solving crime.

She also told A/N that Jason was related to Dr. Barry Allen and Clark Kent, two people the two of them knew well because of the news and the fact that A/N knew Y/N when she wanted to go into forensics and was reading Dr. Barry Allen’s work.

When her mother texted her.

Y/N? Is that you in the press running around with Jason Todd?

Yeah mum, why?

Are you two in a serious relationship?

No mum.

Then why are the vultures so obsessed with you, says your dad.

‘ Cause you two made a pretty girl and he’s high up in the world, I guess, I don’t know. I don’t really like the press.

I can tell. We’re not mad at you honey, but be careful. And your dad says when you two get serious he needs to take Jason fishing.

He doesn’t speak French, mum.

Dad says he’ll work on his English for you.

Well tell everyone I love them, mum.

She panicked a little bit, her parents were nice when they wanted to be, but they were strict, why wouldn’t they be. So this, while being a welcomed surprise. was still a little panicky.

“Your  parents find out?”

“Yeah, they seem chill with it though.”

“Bing in the press sucks when you’re trying to keep your love life out of your parents' eyes, huh?”

“You could say that again,” she joked.

“Being in the press sucks when you’re-”

“I didn’t mean literally!” they laughed.

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

Back at Wayne Enterprises, Jason was betting bombarded by his colleges, friends and family about Y/N and how she was able to get around the press’ constant harassment without flaw. And also because Bruce had seen the two enter the building at around 12am the night before. So Jason was called into Bruce’s office that day.

“1, I know everyone is bombarding you, so you can hide out here, son, 2, you and Y/N didn’t have sex in your office right?”

“God no, dad. We just hid here because security is tight as fuck and unable to get past.”

“I saw you two kissing on the cams and heading into your office, Jay.”

“Okay, okay, but we didn't have sex and the intentions were there, dad!”

“Uh huh, pretty girl in your, my, car.”

“Dad, stop it,” he joked.

“Well, her little shenanigans with the press are very amusing, have you told her that?”

“I have.”

“She’s basically not afraid to tell them what we all think.”

“That’s what I said, dad.”

“Well, hold onto that one and don’t let her go.”

“Do you regret doing that with Talia?” Jason asked.

“God no, she’s insane. The son I got out of her antics is literally her spitting image, so if I need to be reminded of her I can just go talk to Damien for a couple minutes.”

“Dami’s a lot like you too, don’t act like his personality is just Talia, he acts like his dad in every aspect and you know that.”

“Lord help any woman or man that kid goes on to date, my god,” the two of them laughed. It was the small things with Bruce that made Jason happy to be a Wayne, even if he didn’t share the last name. Jason grew up on the streets and even before that, his mum and dad didn’t have a lot of money, so the amounts of money that Bruce could shower on him was a lot, but he was okay with just working for his money. And Bruce knew that.

He spent a lot of his workday in Bruce’s office, hiding from the rest of the office, and texting Will.

She knows about your kid.

Well, she’s a good kid. I’m glad you’re bragging about her, means I raised her right.

Shut up. I love that little girl and I’ve helped raise her, Will.

You’re used to my new name?

I changed your contact to Will when you changed your name, so I could remember that that’s your name now and not Roy. I’m hoping I remember it in person though. It would be awkward if I forgot my best friend’s name.

It would be funny to look back on, though.

Like how your relationship with Jade is funny now?

Never stick your dick in crazy.

I wish you would have listened to that sometimes, but then I remember Lian is amazing.

I’m a cliché of dumb choices, what can I say Jaybird.

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

In Y/N’s house, she would always play loud and sad music when she had the chance, some people thought her mental state was fucked, which sometimes it was, but most of the time the sad music went harder than the happy tunes you would catch from the other side of the house.

But even if music was blasting the loudest it could ever be, somehow she would still find herself lost in her thoughts, whether it was new dance routines or a story she would scribble down in her dream journal. there was something about those little fits of artistic passion she would experience from time-to-time.

It’s hard to put into words how those moments reminded her of the simplier times before sh was thrust into stardom, but also how they reminded her of Jason, and untouched mind she longed to know further. She knew there was so much more to the boy she had gone on dates with.

She would end up ignoring her phone for most of the rest of that day, just because she wanted peace and quiet, when A/N’s lover came over and she had to turn the music up louder so she wouldn’t be disrupted by the obvious.

I just got off of work, how are you? How’s your day been? Jason had texted Y/N while she ws turning up the music.

Well, I just had to turn up my music because my roommate’s lover is over, but other than that I’ve been enjoying peace and quiet in my room, waiting for something to do.

Is texting me something to do?

Yes.

That’s sweet of you. Work was boring though so I hope you don’t expect a story.

I don’t, don’t worry. You don’t always need a story for something to do.

Well, I’m going home with my brothers and dad, and we’re probably going to play office chair racing because I’m a bad boy.

You’re a bad boy?

Was that not funny?

It was pretty funny, isn’t that dangerous though?

Yeah actually, my brother broke his leg playing it and another time my little sister broke her leg playing it.

It seems fun but like, damn, two people have gotten injured playing that game, y’know.

Well if I die it’ll be a fun story!

[min-youngis]

breaking bread - l.dh

it's just me and my banners against the world

~ Pairing : Lee Donghyuck x Reader, non-idol

~ Genre : Fluff, Humour, Crack™

~ Summary : Does somebody want to be fake engaged to me for like two hours to try free wedding cake samples?

Strangers to Lovers

~ Word Count : 3.9k

~ Warnings : swearing, excessive simping over bread

~ A/N: looK AT HIM !!! i started writing this on my period but then my period got over before i could finish it so there's a steady decline in theatrics throughout the story.

i'd love to hear feedback, spread the love!

masterlist in my description.

    The first time you pass the bakery, you’re with Hyejin.

    It’s newly opened, you can tell. There are balloons hanging from the ceiling inside, and all the counters look bright and shiny. But it’s the smell that arrests you, your feet stalling of their own accord as you take a deep breath in; so deep, you’re on your toes by the time you finally decide to exhale.

    Your friend doesn’t even realise you’ve stopped, continuing her story for her non-existent audience until she turns and sees you staring with alarming intensity at the new shop.

    If you could, you’d sleep in the smell.

    You feel a gentle palm on your shoulder, as she worriedly asks, “Y/N? You good?”

    A dopey smile. “I’m perfect, thank you, and you?”

    Slowly, you begin to inch toward the shop, almost creepily, not even looking at Hyejin when she snorts next to you at the fact that you’ve slipped into a food coma without even tasting any food.

    You’re close enough to read the bright board on top of the counter now, nose nearly pressed right up to the glass as you ravenously go through the menu and prices.

    If there were somebody behind the counter, they’d have born witness to all the stages of grief.

    “Hyejin,” you moan lowly, agony apparent in your voice, hands now on the glass even as the smell assaults you more the closer you get. “Hyejin, we can’t afford this.”

    Behind you, a firm hand wraps around your elbow. “I know, sweetie. I could have told you that from the font on the name board.”

    You let out another broken groan, palms sliding down the glass dramatically as you take a last long look at the pastries lined up inside.

    “There, there,” Hyejin comforts, tugging at your arm and rolling her eyes when you stop to inhale deeply one more time, the scent of fresh bread and sweetness filling your lungs. “I’ll buy you an ice-cream at that place next to the apartment, come on.”

    It’s a crappy substitute, but you’ll take it if you don’t have to pay for it. You can’t forget the smell, though. It haunts you until you fall asleep that night; fresh and delectable and sweet.

    The second time you pass the bakery, about a week later, you nearly give in. Nearly enter and order one of the pastries, like some kind of millionaire trust fund baby.

    You’re alone, on the way back from a meeting, and there’s no Hyejin this time to be your voice of reason and to drag you away from your own impulsive decisions.

    Dawdling on the sidewalk, you bend, pretending to tie your non-existent shoelace so the person manning the counter inside doesn’t get suspicious.

    Your fingers still in their exaggerated movements as you let yourself take a deep breath in, sinking into the scent, shoulders actually drooping a bit as the smell of freshly processed dough fills your lungs.

    It’s the sound of shoes slowing down and stopping close to you that snaps you out of it. 

    Too close.

    Hurriedly, you stand up, shaking yourself out of your bread induced reverie. You had expected somebody to be staring at you in judgement, waiting to question you about why you’re pretending to tie shoelaces on sandals on the middle of the pavement; but all you see is a man standing a couple of feet away, speaking into a phone as his hands move dramatically in the air, frustration evident on his face. 

    In the clearing of your haze, you can tell he’s cute. No older than you, messy brown hair and a plain black t-shirt with ripped jeans. Really, your only complaint would be his attitude toward the bakery that you’re slowly beginning to regard as a legitimate place of worship. If he’s intent on swearing at some poor sod on the other end of the line, would it kill him to do it a few paces to the left? Away from this culinary haven?

    He doesn’t seem to have noticed you, apparently comfortable with boring holes into the shop as he stands, and your plan to stall until he leaves so you can continue inhaling rarefied air doesn’t manifest in the next couple of minutes.

    With a disgruntled look in his direction, (he keeps moving closer to the bakery, still shouting into his phone, and it’s beginning to annoy you), you inhale one last time, hope it sustains you until your next visit to this particular patch of pavement, and continue on your way home.

    Day 3 involves a bench, a stranger and a revelation.

    You’ve had a shit day at work, and it’s imperative that you’re reminded of the good things in life. The detour you take to ensure you pass the bakery on your way home is really self-preservation.

    Strengthening your belief that only good things can happen on The Pavement, as you’ve come to fondly refer to it in your brain (and when you’re waxing lyrical to Hyejin, who just doesn’t get it), in a genius marketing move, there’s a bench that wasn’t there previously.

    Right next to the entrance, facing the road, like in McDonald’s but without Ronald.

    You try not to seem too excited at what’s basically an invitation for you to conduct your ritual, and casually slow down your pace as you near the area, trying to set up your subsequent action to seem like a nonchalant afterthought.

    Until you spot the man again, walking in your direction. The same person whom you saw the other day desecrating the shop, and who cut short your...sniffing. And he’s walking toward you, making a beeline for the bench.

    Screw nonchalant.

    Subtly speeding up, you walk closer, noticing that he does the same thing.

    Distantly, you’re amused at how the two of you have come to the same conclusion - that on an empty bench that can easily fit four people, only one of you can sit. Or maybe you’re competing for first, you aren’t sure.

    You both reach at more or less the same time, exchange a stiff, polite smile that speaks volumes (yours says you won, his indicates the opposite), and sit down, leaving enough space in the middle to fit another person.

    The first breath you take feels like being reborn.

    Next to you, the Dude (which is what you christened him when you had ranted about his insensitivity and disrespect to Hyejin), is back to shouting at somebody on his phone.

    You take yours out too, so you don’t seem pathetic. It isn’t like you’re stopping outside a bakery that you can’t afford just to smell bread on your way back from work.

    At that moment, the shop doors open on your left, letting a customer out, and along with her, a strong, delicious waft of chocolate.

    You’ve decided. This is heaven.  This is where you’ll get married, and this is where you’ll ask your friends to bury you.

    You’re soaking in the lingering after effects once the doors have swung closed, trying not to make your deep, quite frankly meditative breathing too obvious, while also trying to tune out the sound of the Dude ranting into his phone next to you, when you hear a mobile ring nearby.

    And it isn’t yours.

    You still. He stills. Marimba repeats one last, sad time and stops.

    The thought forms through no conscious decision or effort of your own, slowly becoming more and more concrete.

    You can feel him looking at you, as if waiting for you to call him out, and he opens his mouth to start talking at the same time as you do.

    And then the door opens again, releasing another delectable whiff of sweet pastry, making the words stop at the tip of your tongue.

    The two of you exchange a look, silent and full of gravitas, only breaking contact when he takes a deep breath and mutters, “Oh, shit, that’s so good.”

    “Are you here for the smell as well?” Never in a million years did you think you’d say that.

    He nods, sheepish smile on his face. “Yeah. I’ve been coming nearly every day for the last week.”

    You can swear, in that moment, with his bucket hat and his baggy jeans and his now more obvious small sniffs, that you’ve never met a man so attractive in your life.

    “This is my third time,” you reply, nodding in understanding even as a grin makes its way to your face unbidden.

    His eyes twinkle, and you aren’t prepared for his next words. “I remember you from that evening when you were pretending to tie your shoelaces.”

    “Were you faking the phone call then, too?”

    “I was hoping you wouldn’t bring it up.”

    Emboldened, you offer him your hand, weirdly endeared by the way his mouth curls up in a half-laugh. As he puts his palm in yours, you shrug, “No judgement. You gotta do what you gotta do, yeah?”

    “Absolutely. I’m Donghyuck.”

    “Y/N. Lovely to meet a fellow bread enthusiast.”

    When you spend twenty minutes talking about the bakery that night to Hyejin over dinner (she’s come to expect it at this point), the Dude has a name, and isn't so much of a dick as you had initially thought.

    "Y/N, no."

    "Y/N, yes."

    She huffs, exasperated, random wisp of hair on her face flying upwards before settling freakishly perfectly. "I am not pretending to be engaged to you for free cake."

    You're equal parts pleading and frustrated as you tug at her arm again, curling up as close to her on the couch as possible and batting your eyelashes as enticingly as you can. "Please? Am I not your very favourite person in the world?"

    "No."

    "Top ten at the very least?" you ask, undeterred.

    She gives you an unimpressed look, pries your hand off of her elbow and turns back to the television, pressing play on the sitcom.

    You don't even know what you're watching. You've been too busy concocting your master plan the entire evening, ever since you had passed the bakery and seen the newly installed sign outside that said FREE WEDDING CAKE SAMPLES!

    You didn't even linger on the pavement as long as you usually do.

    (Okay, maybe you lingered a little bit, hoping to run into your new acquaintance, but you had a plan, goddammit, and you had to convince Hyejin of it as soon as possible.)

    "Give it up, Y/N. It's wrong and deceitful, I'm not going to do it."

    You move away like you've been burnt, offense writ large on your face.

    "Wrong? It's for a good cause!"

    You admit, you probably deserve the eye roll for your theatrics. Recognising a lost case when you see one, you sigh slowly, settling back against the couch and resigning yourself to a cake-less existence.

    "Why don't you ask your new friend? Mr. Fellow Weirdo."

    "His name is Donghyuck. And I've only spoken to him once."

    She shrugs unsympathetically, letting it go; but in your brain, the gears are turning again.

    What about Donghyuck?

    It's come to a point where you're willing to start saving specifically for the express purpose of buying cake.

    Every time you pass the shop, your resolve weakens and your fingers inch closer to your wallet. The only thing that stops you is the fact that the end of the month is nearing, and expenses will hit you like a ton of bricks.

    But you've come up with the perfect routine now. Every Monday and Thursday, at exactly 6 PM, on your way back from work, you sit on the bench outside the bakery for fifteen minutes. You haven't met Donghyuck again, but paradoxically enough, the more you don't see him, the more inviting Hyejin's suggestion seems. Twice already, while conducting your ritual, you had decided that if he showed up that day before you left, you would propose the idea to him.

    You're in a similar headspace this evening, already planning out a conversation in your head and how you can bring it up if you meet him without sounding completely creepy, when you hear the devil himself, interrupting your monologue.

    "Hey! Been a while, huh?"

    You smile as he sits down next to you, a bit startled at seeing him in person after having fake conversations with him in your head, but nod happily. "How have you been?"

    "Good, yeah. A bit busy, so I haven't come around much. But man, it's good to be back."

    And there, as you watch his eyes close briefly in satisfaction and his shoulders rise and fall slowly as he takes a deep breath in, content smile spreading on his face when the smell hits him, you decide that Hyejin is one smart cookie.

    "Do you want to be fake engaged to me?"

    Granted, it isn't your smoothest work. And it completely derails any and all pointers you had come up with in your head for this exact scenario, but he doesn't get scared off.

    His eyelids do snap open, though, and his serene expression morphs into one of confusion, but with remarkable calmness, he asks, "Uh, excuse me?"

    Without a word, you point at the blackboard standing outside the shop on the other side of the doors. They've added balloons with green chalk now, as decoration. You hope they're better at baking than they are at drawing.

    You watch his face clear up, realisation dawning as his lips curve into a wicked grin, one you haven't had the absolute pleasure of witnessing before.

    Somehow, you don't think Ms. It's-Wrong-And-Deceitful would approve of this Donghyuck.

    "I like the way you think," he says approvingly, glint of mischief in his eyes.

    You can't stop your own excited smile from appearing, as the possibility of actually being able to have a taste of what you've been dreaming about becomes more of a certainty.

    "Okay, but we've got to figure some stuff out, though."

    "Agreed," he replies, all business. "Gotta make it believable. Which is your favourite Shrek film?"

    You barely manage to restrain yourself from snorting, but from the twinkle in his eye, you're certain that you're about as good of an actress as the bakery owners are artists.

    Calming down, you clear your head. "Okay, but for real, though. Basic things. What's your last name?"

    "Lee. Your favourite ice cream flavour?"

    "Mint chocolate. No, I don't take constructive criticism."

    He shuts his mouth abruptly, his obedient nod making you giggle. "What do you do, job-wise?"

    "I work at a record store."

    You can't hide the impressed look on your face, eyebrow cocking up. "Dude, that's super cool. I do freelance journalism."

    He nods, filing away all the information to whip out later. “What’s our proposal story?”

    “Uh, something simple so they don’t have too many questions. Just say one of us asked over dinner?”

    “Cool, yeah, makes sense. Summer wedding?”

    “Summer wedding,” you agree, nodding.

    Really, it shouldn’t be so easy to come up with fake wedding planning details with a veritable stranger.

    He straightens up, standing and offering you his upturned palm, mischievous grin making a reappearance. “Ready?”

    “Yes, yes, a million times yes.”

    His laughter at your exaggerated tone dissipates some of the nerves, as you feel his cool hand wrap loosely around your fingers. It’s time for the performance of a lifetime.

    "Let's get this bread," he mumbles, pushing the door open.

    You nearly slump at the first proper breath you take. As lovely as the air outside is, everything is so much more intense here. Your fake fiancé's hand flexes in yours slightly, and you know he's going through some kind of spiritual awakening as well.

    If the man behind the counter hadn't spoken, you're sure the two of you could stand there forever, just breathing.

    "Hi, how can I help you?"

    You snap out of your haze, slowly squeezing Donghyuck's fingers to get him back. It's show time.

    You plaster on the brightest smile you've got (it isn't hard), and walk with him to the counter.

    "Hey! We saw your board outside, about the wedding cakes."

    He nods before replying to Donghyuck's non-question question, smiling enough for you to feel a pang of guilt; but not enough to abort mission. "That's right. Are the two of you engaged?"

    You nod enthusiastically, impatient to start tasting. Maybe you overdo a bit when you giggle and say, "Yes!" with the brightest, most in-love laugh that you can manage.

    You hear a muted chuckle from next to you, and you hope Mark behind the counter (according to his name tag) passes it off as joy and excitement.

    "The bakery smelt so good from the outside, that we just had to come in and see if we could get our cake and desserts for the ceremony from here."

    With a fond smile, he says, "Why don't you take a seat there, and I'll bring out the samples. Are you looking for any particular flavour?"

    If you weren't nearly vibrating at the fact that you're this close to finally tasting what you've been dreaming of for weeks, you would have snorted at Donghyuck's very enthusiastic 'No preference whatsoever, bring them all!'

    "Is this really happening?"

    He squeezes your hand, excited grin and devilish smirk fighting for prominence on his face as he sits down next to you, whispering back, "Fuck, yeah."

    He comes back bearing a tray with two spoons and a bunch of plates, each one having a small slice of different coloured pastry on it. In the other hand, a pamphlet with options for customisation and tiers. You don't know how to tell him that you couldn't care less about how many levels a wedding cake should have.

    The moment he sets the tray down on the table, right in between you and Donghyuck, and the smell of the mixture of flavours and bread assaults your senses, you have to do everything in your power to not begin inhaling everything, to not grab a spoon and dig into whatever you can get your hands on. From the stiffness of his shoulders next to you, you know that your fake-fiancé is having the same problem in self-restraint.

    "If you're going for a summer wedding, I'd suggest the berry based flavours-" Mark points out one delectable section of the tray, "-and for winter, our customers prefer chocolate or coffee varieties."

    Donghyuck throws a subtle wink in your direction (and looks damn good doing it), before he asks, anticipation clear on his face, "Where would you like to start, baby?"

    The pet name throws you off for a second, and from his grin, you have a sneaking suspicion that he knows exactly what he's doing, but there's no time to analyse it now. There's a slice of red velvet directly under your nose that's practically begging to be eaten.

    You're thankful for the customer that walks in at that moment, making Mark move away; you aren't sure how convincingly you can pretend to be a normal, engaged couple that hasn't been camping outside the shop for weeks once you've actually tasted the goods.

    "Together?" Donghyuck asks, once you both have a spoon full of cake.

    Nodding firmly with a grin, you count down from three.

    The first bite renders you blank. The literal definition of no thoughts, head empty as the flavour bursts in your mouth, your eyes closed and spoon stuck inside. Next to you, you hear a borderline pornographic moan, but you'll be the last person to call him out on it. 

    Before you know it, you’ve dug your spoon into the cake again, right as he does the same, and you’re chewing another bite, practically floating in serenity. 

    It’s mostly silence as the two of you make your way through the ten odd pieces of pastry on the table, only punctuated by satisfied sighs and muttered ‘Oh, fuck’s, and you feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience, here in this expensive shop with your fake-fiancé who has the same (perfectly normal) enthusiasm for bread as you.

    “I can’t believe we thought sitting outside was good enough when this exists,” Donghyuck says after swallowing a large bite of chocolate raspberry truffle. His eyes shine in satiated glee, fingers tapping a steady, restless staccato beat against the surface of the table as he chooses the next slice to taste.

    Tucking your spoon into the strawberries and cream flavour that’s quickly become your personal favourite, you nod enthusiastically. “Very glad I met you. Who knows how long I would’ve sat outside otherwise, living unfulfilled, believing my life was complete?”

    His chuckle makes the cake in your mouth taste sweeter.

    You lick off your spoon once you’re finally done a few minutes later, audibly huffing as you settle against the back of the chair, satisfied. Next to you, Donghyuck does the same.

    “You’ve got some icing on your face,” he observes, settling his spoon down and handing you a tissue.

    “Here?” 

    “A little to the left.” 

    “Here?”

    Wordlessly, you watch as he brings his hand up and lightly taps the left corner of your mouth, pad of his index finger gently grazing your commissure, heat from his hand lingering for a just a second before he pulls away, his gaze suddenly holding a little less mischief and a little more intensity, and his knee briefly knocking into yours under the table as he tilts his body toward you. 

    You almost don’t want to wipe off the icing, but you make sure not to break eye contact when you do, the faint sugar rush making you bolder.

    “Oh, you guys are cute! Were you able to pick a flavour?”

    You’re startled at Mark’s sudden reappearance, uncharacteristically flustered as Donghyuck smiles brightly and smoothly replies, “They were all incredible, thank you. We’d like to try some other places and then decide. We’ll let you know!”

    You think you see a faint air of suspicion around Mark when you follow Donghyuck’s lead and stand up, and for good measure, you make sure to grab his hand while walking out, fingers easily tangling together. To his credit, he shows no surprise, playing along unceremoniously and even going so far as to lightly swing his arm as you open the door and step out.

    Leading the way a few steps away from the shop, once you’ve ensured that Mark won’t be able to see you, you let go. 

    It’s all a little awkward. What do you say to break up a fake engagement?

    “We can never go back in there without disguises again, that’s for sure.”

    That should do it.

    “Think he’ll notice it’s me if I wear a fake mustache?”

    The shared laughter at his comment lasts for maybe ten seconds before it’s back to a vaguely uncomfortable silence. You know this is it. You know you both probably won’t meet again because you’re done with this bakery. Why are you finding it so challenging to say goodbye?

    He opens his mouth slightly, looking a bit unsure even as he begins to talk, that same intense look in his eyes making a return.

    “There’s a small restaurant they’ve just opened near my apartment with a Valentine’s day two-for-one offer. Do you want to maybe see if we can get away with it again?”

    His voice pitches up hesitantly towards the end of it, as if mimicking your subtly quickening heartbeat. 

    “Or,” you start, shy smile creeping onto your face as you slowly take your phone out and hand it over to him to enter his number. “We could make it a real date, and have a meal with no moral repercussions.”

    That night, when you tell Hyejin your story (which is decidedly more interesting than all your previous stories combined, according to her), the Dude has a name, a cute face and a discount lunch with you next week.

[straightlikewetspaghetti]

Demons of the Past

Pairings: Poppy x MC (Bea Hughes)

Warnings: Mature language

Word count: 3074

Ch.1 Stranger Danger

Poppy Min Sinclair had to arch her slender neck to see her reflection from over the shoulder of Chloe, who had been testing her new artistic vision on her for a good few minutes. For some time now, Poppy had become a canvas for Chloe's magical hands as she tried her luck at running a beauty salon, along with Veronica, who was doing her best advertising.

"What do you think V?"

Veronica tore her gaze away from her phone and looked towards Poppy wrinkling her nose slightly. She usually did that when she was seriously considering something. "As far as I'm concerned she could use some plastic surgery."

"Asshole," Poppy laughed hurling a pillow at her friend, which missed and knocked over a decorative vase standing nearby. Three girls looked in that direction and soon the three of them burst out laughing loudly, curling up on the floor.

"Enough, enough!", Chloe began to shout when she noticed that Poppy wanted to wipe her eyes from crying, and she caught her hands, looking at her with a chastising gaze. She wouldn't let her hard work be destroyed so easily. Poppy rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face remained constant as she silently teased the shorter girl along with Veronica. "Why am I hanging out with you guys..."

"You love us," whined Veronica hugging a reddened Chloe with one arm, who lowered her gaze quickly to her hands nervously playing with the hem of her skirt.

Poppy made the sound of displeasure she made whenever the two girls started acting too cute. She was glad for their happiness, but deep down she felt an incredible jealousy, because she herself would like to share her life with someone too.

The couple sort of understood the blonde, pulled away from each other and looked at her docilely.

"Don't worry Poppy, I'm sure you'll meet someone at the party tonight. From what I heard Zoey invited some cutie from the old days...", Chloe smiled as she tried to convey positive energy with her words. "Besides, you're wearing my makeup, no one will be able to resist you!"

"Cutie you say..."

Ch.2 Party Fever

She was the most beautiful girl in the whole room.

No.

She was the most beautiful girl in the entire world.

Bea watched from a dark corner of the room as Poppy twirled effortlessly to the beat of the music, attracting the stares of drooling people with her movements. Her tiny skirt didn't leave much to the imagination either, but that was Poppy Min Sinclair's style; if she wasn't the main attraction, what was the point of her presence?

"You're acting like a creep," she was snapped out of her observation by Zoey who magically appeared next to her, making her almost gasp.

"You should have some kind of bell around your neck, Wade," Bea rolled her eyes at her friend's laughter.

"Wow, she has nice ass... Ets, yeah, nice assets," Zoey smiled innocently seeing her friend's murderous gaze. "You'd better come over to her eventually,"

Her gaze went back to the dancing blonde. "It's been five years, what should I say to her?"

"Maybe something like; Heya Pops I already have money, maybe you want to come with me for a little Macarena?", the black-haired squirmed as Bea's fist landed right in her stomach, almost knocking the air out of her lungs. The slight pain she felt didn't stop her from laughing at the tomato-like look that appeared on her friend's face. "Come on babe, she's at the bar now, this is your opportunity."

Bea nodded and straightened up, ready to attack. "You finally said something with sense."

Ch.3 Deja-vu

"One Old Fashioned and Sex On The Beach."

Poppy turned behind her with a ready biting remark, but her voice froze in her throat when she saw the person standing behind her. And it was none other than Bea Hughes herself, her first drink, crush, kiss, sex, love, but also her first heartbreak. She stood before her as casually as if those five years of separation between them had never existed. Her short brown hair, now shoulder-length, was whiter than snow itself. Her childlike facial features had sharpened and she could see tiny wrinkles appearing from the overworked late nights. Her style had also changed, from boyishly sporty and bad girl to formal and important. She looked like a millionaire ripped straight from the cover of Forbes. She no longer resembled the person she once was.

"You remembered what I drink," the blonde choked out as the first wave of shock left her and the lump in her throat loosened. Talking to her seemed so unreal that she felt like she had lost consciousness and was now dreaming.

Bea smiled in response, though it was more of a tired smile than the beaming howl with which she had greeted Poppy daily in their school years. "There are some things that are hard to forget Pops," the white-haired girl shrugged her shoulders sheepishly as she slid the hundred across the counter towards the bartender, who with renewed vigor reached over and ran to prepare the drinks, nearly tipping over his own feet.

"Feeling generous tonight?", Poppy chuckled as she watched Bea tuck a rather thick bundle of bills into her pocket. In their teenage years, the white-haired girl had barely been able to make ends meet, but Poppy had always admired her ability to live from day to day and enjoy herself, even when an eviction order from her home hung over her head.

Bea laughed a throaty laugh that sounded almost like a cough. She nodded and tilted her head to one side, the way she did every time she got into a thoughtful mood. "There's nothing wrong with supporting the littles." Poppy's insides tightened to ask where she'd gotten all that money, but by some miracle her strong will managed to curb the urge and nip it in the bud. That would be tactless, and lack of tact is a trait that should not be associated with Min Sinclair.

"You can ask me anything you want," Bea looked her straight in the eye, making Poppy stop seeing anyone else but her. It was as if she had cast a spell on her and moved them far away, enclosing them in a safe bubble illusion. Even the music became just a distant rumble as the white-haired woman looked at her that way. The same way she had looked at her five years ago.

"I don't understand," the blonde cursed herself when she heard her own words, which sounded more idiotic than some of Chloe's wisdom. Bea seemed unmoved, by her clumsy attempt at pretending, in fact, a cocky grin appeared on her lips that she, oh so much, felt like tearing off now.

" Don't play games Poppy, we're not kids anymore," Bea reached for the drinks that had finally been brought in and handed one to Poppy, completely casually, fingertips brushing against the skin of her palm. "Drink up, it'll help you relax, and I know you have a lot of questions."

The blonde lowered her gaze to the drink and took a moment to look at the colors that danced on the surface of her liquor. How was Bea able to read her like an open book after all these years. Everyone said she had changed, but could it be that the change wasn't so great after all? And why was she always questioning herself in her company?

She was pulled out of her reverie by Bea, who unnoticeably slipped her finger under her chin and lifted her face so that they were looking at each other again. This time, however, she was closer, much, much closer. Poppy could without much difficulty smell the expensive perfume that didn't match the Bea of her memories, but did match the woman who sat before her. Just as in years past, Bea's thumb involuntarily stroked her cheek.

For a brief moment, the blonde let her selfish thoughts consume her and savor the touch, but it didn't last as long as she wanted it to. "N-no," she whispered and using all of her strong willpower she moved a safe distance away from the white-haired woman, who didn't object to her reaction. "I can't do it like this," she said as she walked away, escaping as quickly as possible from this cursed place, from this cursed past.

Ch.4 When It Rains, It Pours

When she left the building, it was already dark and chilly outside, and a light rain was drizzling from the heavy clouds hanging in the sky. At this point, however, she didn't care about ruining her expensive and designer clothes and makeup that Chloe had sat on for dozens of minutes. She needed to get some fresh air, cool down, and let her thoughts flow.

Why had she come back just now? Now that Poppy had put her life back together, without her and without thoughts of her.

"Sinclair!"

"You've got to be kidding me," she snorted under her breath hearing Bea's loud voice behind her, who as usual wasn't giving up. At least that hadn't changed. "What do you want Farmsville?"

Bea squirmed at that old nickname, but quickly imposed a stoic expression on her face and shoved her hands into her pockets. Even in this gentle rain and illuminated only by the slightly penetrating moonlight, she continued to look like a goddess, which annoyed Poppy immensely.

"You ran out so suddenly, I thought something happened and I thought..."

"Oooh now you thought?" snapped the blonde, who nervously shifted from foot to foot, almost ready to throw herself at the white-haired woman's throat. Years of pent up rage bubbled through her veins, making her skin almost burn with living fire. "Forgive my surprise, but I would never judge Bea Hughes for her ability to think!"

The white-haired woman watched her in silent contemplation, answering nothing. Her silence irritated the blonde a hundred times more than anything she could say. The atmosphere between them was becoming strained to the limit and all it took was one wrong move, one misspoken word, and the catastrophe was certain. The rain intensifying around them wasn't helping either.

"I don't understand what happened. We were talking calmly like we used to, and suddenly you run out and do one of your tantrums..."

"Ha! Like we used to...," she interrupted her again in mid-sentence, mimicking her and almost bursting into maniacal laughter, but her mood had nothing to do with amusement. "I guess you've already forgotten that you left me for five whole years and now you're back and you expect us to talk like old friends?", her voice wavered between anger and tears. "Someone paid you to come back here? That's where you got the money from, right? You were hired to get revenge on me..."

"What," the astonishment in Bea's voice was almost palpable as she stared at the blonde shaking with anger with her eyes wide open. It was Poppy's nature to explode and make arguments for any reason, but what she was saying now sounded irrational, even for her. "I'm the CEO of my uncle's company, that's where I get my money from," she corrected.

"What," this time it was Poppy's turn to be surprised and her face even softened. "What do you mean, what about your dreams of becoming a music star?"

Bea scratched the back of her neck nervously and lifted her face up, letting the raindrops wash her face of any negativity that had accumulated. When she felt ready enough not to explode, she looked back at the blonde and sighed, her face looking more tired than before. "Those were childhood daydreams. A music career would never make me the kind of money an accounting firm would."

"Childish daydreams? You spent your first earned money on a guitar and an amplifier, how can you call that childish daydreams...", the concern in Poppy's voice was sincere, probably one of the more sincere feelings she had felt in recent times.

"I needed real options and real money," Bea replied dryly, ignoring any emotion from the blonde, who was looking at her with a worried expression on her face.

"What for? Why did you need the money?" she asked, not yet knowing that she would light the fuse from the bomb with that question.

"What for? Is that really what you're asking?", Bea's so far calm expression bent into unnatural anger, her eyes misting over from the emotions gripping her. "And isn't that what you wanted? A girl who can fulfill your every whim, with a stable life, a job and a mountain of money?", a realization and simultaneous remorse appeared on Poppy's face, but it did not satisfy Bea. "Yes Poppy, I heard your conversation with Veronica the other night when you thought I was sleeping."

Poppy blinked several times, unable to formulate a response. She replayed that conversation in her mind, all the words she'd said then that she hadn't really meant, but under the onslaught of people around her, her perception was distorted. "It's not like that..."

Bea raised a hand to silence any explanation from the blonde. She didn't want to hear it. "No Pops" she shook her head, her hair wet from the downpour sticking to her face, masking any tears falling. "It at least gave me the motivation to change my life, for that I will be grateful."

Ch.5 Irreplaceable

"You understand that she still had the nerve to be mad at me? Like it's my fault for changing for her," Bea had been lamenting to Zoey for about an hour, who, like any patient friend, silently let her rant.

"And she's telling me that she changed for me... After all, I didn't ask her to!", Poppy nervously walked around the living room almost already trampling a path in the tiles. A worried Veronica and Chloe watched her in silence, letting her get all the negative emotions out.

"I know she didn't ask me to do this, but I wanted to finally be worthy of her, you know? I wanted to give her the future she deserved, and she wouldn't have it with me if I continued to follow my dreams," the white-haired girl slumped helplessly on the couch next to her friend, dipping her face into her hands. "After all, to a gorgeous girl like Poppy, it wouldn't be enough that I...”

"After all, she knew full well that she suited me the way she was, why did she take away the one person I..."

"Love."

"I wish I could be mad at her...", Bea muttered lifting her face and looking straight at Zoey who seemed to be in deep thought.

"But I can't," groaned Poppy leaning against Veronica's shoulder, who reflexively began to stroke the blonde's back, which slowly began to twitch from her silent crying. Chloe moved to the other side and snuggled into Poppy to give her her full support, knowing that no words could heal these wounds.

Zoey nodded and patted the white-haired girl's shoulder giving her silent support. Bea relaxed from her friend's touch. "Haven't you thought maybe it's about time..."

"To move on and find someone new? It's been five years," Veronica felt Poppy's whole body tense up and prepared for a burst of anger, from the blonde, but the blonde only raised her head and furrowed her eyebrows."

"No. She's irreplaceable."

Ch.6 Where Something Ends, Something Begins

It had been a week since the memorable meeting.

Since then, Poppy hadn't seen or heard from Bea who had sunk like a stone into water. Such disappearing without a word wasn't her style, but the blonde wasn't sure what her style was anymore. The days she lived as she always did, and the nights she sat curled up on the couch with a glass of wine and reminisced about old times while talking to herself.

"Thank you for coming Poppy."

Poppy slipped her sunglasses off her nose and looked over at Zoey who was warming her hands with a mug of hot coffee. "Believe it, I was surprised myself that I agreed," she lied. She agreed without hesitation because she knew it was about Bea, and inside she was dying to know what was happening to her.

Zoey giggled at the blonde's nudge and shook her head. Although her words were biting, there wasn't an ounce of incivility in them. Such a habit between them. "You can probably guess why I met with you."

"Is it about Bea?", Poppy tried to sound as formal as possible and not show that she was thinking about it day in and day out, almost unable to focus on anything else. How pathetic it would be if someone found out she couldn't control her feelings.

The black-haired woman sighed grimly and nodded her head. For a moment she began to search through her backpack and pulled out a strange little bundle. Poppy tilted her head and looked at the colorful paper that only her Bea could choose. She smiled at the surge of positive memories.

"The day she left, she told me to give this to her. I honestly thought about it for a long time, against all odds I wouldn't want you to suffer any more than you already have," Zoey's gaze drifted somewhere behind Poppy's back as she couldn't stand the pain in the blonde's eyes that grew with every word she said. "But I think this will help both you and her close a chapter in your life" Zoey pulled money out of her pocket and placed it next to the empty cup. Without a word, she placed a hand on the blonde's shoulder, who stared at the package as if mesmerized. She squeezed it tightly and walked away, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

With trembling hands, she reached for the bundle and prepared to open it. Somewhere deep inside she knew exactly what she would find, but she hoped that it was only an illusion and that it would not really contain what she had in mind. Unfortunately, hope is the mother of fools and when she opened the package, a velvet box appeared before her eyes.

She opened it with tears in her eyes.

"Maybe in another life and another time we would have had a chance, but I will love you always."

[kannra21]

Daisuzu shopping 💗

I thought about Daisuke's night at Kato's place and wondered if he'd ever consider repeating "the same mistake" again. Living a life of a commoner is strange for a millionaire, but he'll get the hang of it.

~o0o~

It was yet another busy day at the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. The crew managed to catch the criminals responsible for the robbery of the "Space Jewelry" shop in Ginza, the Tokyo's most famous upmarket shopping district. After he filled the report and got himself patched from a fight with one of the resisters, Daisuke returned to his mansion with bandages and sterile gauze wrapped around his upper arm. It wasn't that deep but the cut on his maroon dress shirt wouldn't be fixed so easily.

Suzue had enough of constantly throwing away beautiful garments of clothes and Daisuke's closet was becoming emptier by each day. Therefore, she decided to do him a favor and buy the suits by herself. She got dressed in her beige trenchcoat after their meal and before she left the residence, Daisuke stopped her and asked if he could join her in whatever she needed help with. This surprised Suzue because he was never interested in these kinds of things, she was usually in charge of the purchases. Daisuke insisted because, after he spent his time at Haru’s place, he realized just how important it was for him to get involved in the everyday life of a simple man and learn how things around him work. And Suzue was never happier to comply.

Daisuke felt a little odd that he had to blend in with the large crowd of simple commoners, the busy traffic, and the constant commotion. Does Suzue really have to deal with this every single day? He suddenly felt self-aware and didn't know where to put his hands. He saw a couple holding hands and felt a little awkward because he didn’t know how Suzue would react if he performed the same thing. Therefore he extended his elbow in a gentleman-like fashion and offered her to take it. She smiled the sweetest smile and accepted it, he didn't even know what he found so compelling in this situation but it made him content as well.

They arrived at Aoyama boutique in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods around. And although it has a great reputation in fashion industry, they offered casual designs with hight quality and inexpensive prices. The moment they walked in, Daisuke was instantly drawn to the expensive section of the shop but Suzue needed to drag him away to the part they were looking for.

"But Suzue, these suits aren't as good as the ones on display."

"That's because every store has a simple costumer tactic they're using for psychological reasons. For them, it is important that they have strong in-store visuals and display their best products in front of the complex. Our current task is to buy a bunch of suits with high quality and lower price. Remember, we're buying you work clothes which are easily expendable but made of quality materials to make them last longer. Besides, you already have suits for special occasions at home."

"I know but.." Daisuke felt discouraged.

Suzue could see his uneasiness and eyes averting in thought "What's wrong?"

"The day I bought Abura Emirate's seventh prince's car-"

"You did what?"

"It's true. We needed the car to catch two young people responsible for the robbery of the chocolate store."

Suzue laughed softly "This is silly."

"I know. And the prince was looking down on my clothes for some reason. I lost my nerve and made a quick purchase."

"You were rough again?"

"Yes I was."

Suzue approached him and put her hand on his cheek "Maybe the prince was boisterous but you are old money, Daisuke-sama, and a person like him won't survive long enough in the royal district. You're the real deal, so I advise you not to bother with such people if that's what you really want."

Daisuke looked surprised and somewhat flustered. Suzue panicked a little when she realized what she just did and nervously told them to continue looking for his clothes.

After they finished with the shopping, Suzue couldn't help it but to head towards the Aoyama Farmer's Market with fresh homemade products.

"I thought we were going home?"

"I know but these products are healthier than those from the supermarket. I'm only thinking about your health, you'll thank me later."

Daisuke just watched her walking enthusiastically towards one of the stands and he was shaking his head while smiling. He found it cute when she gets so carried away. Suzue spotted the jam of her choice stacked on a high shelf, she tried to reach it but even her high heels couldn't help her. In vain attempts to get it, she didn't notice Daisuke standing next to her and taking what she wanted. Their hands barely brushed against each other and they nervously looked at different directions. He handed it to her and she thanked him.

Noticing her tension, Daisuke wanted to relax her so they wouldn’t find themselves in similar situations and not to make her nervous anymore. He could only guess why this was happening but, being clumsy the way he was, he couldn't fully establish the reason of her behavior. However, he tried and proposed to take her to Cheery Blossoms at Aoyama Cemetery. Suzue instead, became so flustered upon hearing his suggestion that he got worried and asked her if he should take her somewhere else which she refused because she didn't want to disappoint him if he really wanted to go there.

And that's where they were, sitting on a bench and watching the peaceful sight of the beautiful cherry blossoms. Suzue was so thrilled to be there that she took pictures of the place and made selfies. She looked at them and commented how she couldn't wait to show them to Mrs. Kikuko. Now that she mentoned her, she wondered whether they should buy something for her as well and she went through all the possibilities of what they could bring her once they arrive home. Daisuke watched her with a soft smile on his face.

"Suzue is really amazing.. wait what am I thinking?"

Well, it's not true that Suzue wasn't amazing. of course she is. God she's incredible even, for the way she always took care of everything. Being surrounded by cherry trees just added to her unquestionable beauty. Her cheerful spirit and curious nature reminded him of someone close to his heart. Someone he loved dearly, a woman who left him a long time ago and not by her own fault. But looking at Suzue now, he realized that he wasn't unfortunate because he had her and that was everything he could ever ask for.

God was he in love with her? He couldn't tell. It's not that he didn't know, he was more worried about Suzue's reaction. How will she take it? Is it too risky to start off this soon? Is she still nervous being by his side? Why did she act this way? Why is she nervous when there's no reason for her to be nervous in the first place? They lived in the same mansion for so long. Why is he nervous upon thinking about her and her feelings? Oh. He thought he got his answers but he needed to check them first. He just hoped that he won't mess everything up.

While Suzue watched her photos and talked about plans for the dinner, Daisuke carefully tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her cheek. They looked at each other and what Daisuke wasn't expecting was Suzue taking his cheeks in both of her hands and locking his lips with hers. Daisuke was still somewhat hazy and Suzue smiled a little.

"Cherry flowers are really doing it for you, aren't they?"

"This doesn't minimize the fact that you’re beautiful the way you are."

Daisuke realized what he just said and he blushed. Suzue gave him a peck on the lips and stroked the back of his neck which sent shivers through his back. They looked at each other so lovingly that they didn't notice other people's presence until recently and not to attract too much attention, they decided to visit Pierre Herme's café where they shared ispahan- a delightful mélange of lychee, rose and raspberry. Daisuke insisted on feeding her with the excuse that she always spoiled him and that he needed to make up for it in a way, to which she let him. They had a great time together and they took a cake for grandma as well.

When they arrived home, Daisuke opened her the doors like a gentleman he was. Suzue took a couple of his bags to help him carrying them and grandma Kikuko saw them in the hallway.

"Hello children, how was your date?"

Suzue just blushed in embarrassment "W-what do you mean?"

"Haven't you spent half a day outside? Sounds like a date to me."

Suzue just took her things, excused herself and headed to the room to put Daisuke's suits in the closet.

Grandma smiled and Daisuke averted his eyes in amusement.

"How do you notice such this?"

"I had a hunch. So, how did it go?"

"It was fine. Without any complications or embarrassments for that matter. I.. needed some time to figure things out but in the end everything sat in its rightful place."

Grandma looked relieved and said "Sayuri was always shy about expressing her feelings but when she did, she showed it in the most genuine of ways. And every day you keep resembling her more. I'm glad you turned out the way you did, even if we have our own disagreements."

He smiled a little "Thank you, grandma."

And went upstairs to help Suzue with the stuff they bought. Maybe he couldn't see his mother again, but Suzue brought a positive change in his life. A change he'd always be grateful for and cherish.

@daisuzuship @innovativestruggles @narcopharmacist @unholysoggytea @riaymei @ieatcrumbs @cow-goes-oof @matchabucks @bluegleeful @levi-is-heicho @kakooshi @kokorokai @darknessrxse @fluffyyagiza @geniusmeemee @sungmnnnn @koalarin @alstroemerie @petiamaximoff38 @hellohellokookie @marialenikiforov

Here ya go, hope you like it! 💞 Like I mentioned before, if you don't want me to tag you in this post you can tell me and I'll remove the tag. 👍

[networkpersonal534]

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[artificialqueens]

Tree House Kisses, Chapter 19 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica

A/N: Click here for previous chapters. xoxo!

Chapter Summary: Romance is in season. And as Courtney’s big day approaches, Adore continues to spoil her. Some people appreciate this more than others...

Chapter 19: We Go Together

As the recording of “Greased Lightning” finished for the second time, the boys all sighed and sat down. “Can we please take a break?” Bob asked.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” Roy agreed. “Besides, I could really use some advice.”

“I already taught your girlfriend everything I know, Del Rio,” Willam offered, settling against the wall and stretching out his legs.

“Not like that. It’s just that Adore is doing this whole ‘ten presents for ten years of friendship’ thing. You just know they are all gonna be super deep and meaningful and Courtney cried at the first one and I have to think of something better. I cannot let Adore Delano beat me here.”

Bob laughed. “Okay, well, how about diamonds?”

“I’m also not a fucking millionaire, you idiot.”

“Okay, then how about a real sexy thong and some condoms?” Bod suggested with a wink.

“Yeah, great idea, Bob. I’m gonna give her condoms and a thong in front of her mother. You’re a genius.”

“You’re the genius that asked me for advice!”

“Anyone else? Jamin? Please?” Roy begged.

“Don’t ask me,” Jamin said. “My ex is a cunt who broke my heart.”

“Well, actually, you cheated on her, but potato potahto, I guess.”

Jamin scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Will? Come on, you hang out with all girls, you must have an idea.”

“I saw these really killer thigh high boots the other day. You should get those for her. Size 12.” He fluttered his lashes up at Roy, pursing his lips seductively.

“I hate all of you,” Roy moaned, resting his head against the wall. ��Fucking Adore, she’s totally gonna win. I hate her too.”

Bob scoffed. “Roy, you’ve known Courtney longer than Adore has. You should be using that to your advantage.”

“That’s...true…” Roy considered this. “You know what, you’re right, Bob. Thank you!”

-

Courtney sat beside Roy in the front row of the theatre, watching the girls do the sleepover scene. They were working on Adore’s solo, “Freddy My Love,” and she was enjoying watching her friend ham it up. Mrs. Maguire was encouraging her to play around, going into the audience to “flirt” with people.

Adore pranced over to where she and Roy were sitting and shimmied her shoulders, then leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Courtney giggled.

“Yes, we know Courtney’s cute. Now try it with Roy,” Mrs. Maguire urged.

“You want me to give Roy a lap dance? Um, first of all, VOMIT--” Adore began.

“Thanks,” said Roy.

Adore rolled her eyes. “And second, I’m gay, so I’m pretty sure you asking me to do that is like, a crime against nature?”

Mrs. Maguire laughed. “I said flirt with him, Adore, not give him a lap dance. Like blow him a kiss or wink at him when you walk by. No touching required.”

“Oh.”

“Also, I am aware that you’re gay. And we’re all very proud. But your character is straight.”

Adore smirked. “See, I’m not so sure about that.”

“You’re telling me that you think Marty is gay? The character with 40 boyfriends?” Mrs. Maguire raised her eyebrows.

“Well that’s exactly it! She has forty boyfriends! So she’s obviously not very romantically minded with these boys, is she? I mean, she’s just using them for like, presents and money. She’s just kind of...using the assets she has at her disposal.”

Courtney laughed. “She’s an ingenious business person, actually.”

“Exactly!”

Mrs. Maguire tapped her foot. “So we’re playing Marty as a lesbian?”

“I mean, her name is Marty. Come on.”

“Alright, alright.” Mrs. Maguire laughed. “You’ve convinced me. Proceed.”

Adore raised her fists in triumph and then looked down at Courtney. “Get ready for a lap dance,” she said with a wink.

“I was born ready!” Courtney giggled.

Roy shot her a dirty look.

“What?!” she leaned her head on his shoulder, batting her eyelashes. “Like you’d say no to a lap dance?”

As rehearsal wrapped up, and the kids gathered their things, Adore sidled up to Courtney, slipping a wrapped package into her hands. Courtney looked up at her with a beaming smile, happiness filling her chest.

Adore grinned, knowing she was scoring extra points by giving her the gift in front of everyone, as the blonde excitedly unwrapped the slim box, emblazoned with the numbers “1997” in glitter. Inside, it contained a simple slip of paper, a rubbing of their names from the wall of Adore’s tree house.

-

“Come on!” Adore shrieked, dragging Courtney by the wrist, not even letting her swallow the cereal she’d just shoveled into her mouth.

“Alright, alright,” Courtney giggled, stumbling after her into the bright morning light and following her into her backyard, where she proudly showed off what had to be the most beautiful tree house Courtney had ever seen. “WOW!”

“I know, right!” Adore ran up to the ladder, pulling Courtney along.

They both scrambled up the ladder excitedly. Inside was even cooler than outside. Beanbag chairs, built-in cupboards, art supplies all ready to decorate it and make it their own...Courtney would be 100% jealous if it wasn’t for the next words that left Adore’s mouth.

“And I mean, I know it’s in my backyard, but it’s basically OUR tree house, ya know? I mean, ‘cause you’re my best friend. It wouldn’t be any fun without you.”

Courtney lunged forward, wrapping her arms around Adore’s shoulders happily. “It’s the best house ever and you’re the best friend ever.”

Without any warning, two heads popped up through the trapdoor. Roy and Bob. Ugh. Adore shrieked and slammed the door shut, nearly hitting them. “NO BOYS ALLOWED!”

“OW! ADORE!!” Bob yelled. “YOU POOP HEAD!”

“Jesus CHRIST, Adore, we just wanted to see it! What the FUCK!” Roy bellowed.

Adore stuck her head out the window. “Next week maybe, this week is girls only. Sorry!”

Courtney giggled and pulled her down onto one of the bean bags, cuddling together.

-

Courtney gazed at the rubbing, eyes misty. “Remember how we wanted to carve our names but no one would give us a knife so we had to steal the screwdriver from your mom’s toolbox?”

Adore nodded, giggling, and kissed her on the forehead. “And no one lost any fingers.”

Roy huffed. “Dude, you're making me look bad with this sentimental stuff,” he whined.

“Sorry, bro,” Adore replied with a smirk.

Courtney giggled. “I guess you’ll just have to try harder, babe.”

He crossed his arms. “And I’m still a little peeved about that ‘no boys allowed’ stuff.”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t bathe in Old Spice, I’d have let you in,” Adore commented, flipping her hair.

“Old Spice smells good,” Roy defended, then turned to Courtney. “You like it, right babe?”

“Totally,” Courtney assured him, cutting her eyes at Adore slightly, both of them laughing.

-

“Hey, Shea. Glad you took my advice.” Pearl pulled a chair next to her sewing machine and leaned casually on the table.

“Hey, Pearl,” Shea flashed her signature coy smile before going back to her work.

“Whatcha makin’?”

“A dress.”

“What kind of dress, Shea?”

“The kind that requires concentration, Pearl,” Shea quipped, with a hair toss and some side eye, trying to hide the mischievous glimmer in her eyes that told Pearl how much she was enjoying their interaction.

“Oh, well in that case...see you later, Shea.”

“Bye, Pearl.” Shea continued to concentrate on the sewing machine, not looking up until the last second, when Pearl paused in the doorway, tossing a wink over her shoulder. She quickly looked back down, cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

-

“Okay, everyone, please settle. We’ve just heard that there were no fatalities and all injuries were superficial, but we need to remain on lockdown while the police finish casing the school. So just sit tight, alright?” Mr. Harris was trying to maintain a semblance of order in the classroom after a shooting in the parking lot had led to a lockdown.

“Ughhh, this suuucks,” April whined. “I just finally heard from my brother, of course the asshole didn’t respond for like 30 minutes so I thought he was dead for the last half hour.” She shook her head. “He said it’s between the Cambodians and the South Americans.”

“Great, I guess I should call my brother,” said Violet, “Hopefully he’s not headed to Juvie.”

Pearl looked at Courtney, shaking her head. “It’s so awkward to be white in these situations, huh?”

“Actually, I’m a quarter Brazilian,” Courtney replied.

Adore’s head snapped up from her phone, where she’d been texting her cousins. “Courtney, there is serious gang violence going on. Shut the fuck up with that Brazil bullshit.”

Courtney slouched a little, whispering, “Sorry.”

“Oh, leave her alone, Adore. No one’s dead.”

“Yeah, this time,” Adore said.

“I said I’m sorry! I know it’s serious. I’m sorry.” Courtney reached for Adore’s hand. “Are your cousins okay?”

Adore sighed. “Yeah. Luckily they barely come to class, so…” Adore reached down into her bag, pulling out a box. “While we’re trapped here, might as well make the most of it…”

Courtney took the box, which had “1998” written on it, and opened it, smiling.

“Thanks, Dory.” Inside, it was filled with candy - Fun Dip, Sour Patch Kids, Tootsie Roll Pops, Pixie Stix, Pop Rocks. She clapped her hands, squealing. “Alright, who wants a sugar rush?!”

-

“Be quiet,” Adore shushed a giggly Courtney as they crawled past Bonnie, who was napping on the couch, and into the kitchen.

“Sorry,” Courtney smiled, as they stood up, Adore flicking on the kitchen light.

Adore lead Courtney to the cupboard, trying to quietly opened the door in hopes that the squeaky bolts wouldn't wake Bonnie.

“We went to the store yesterday and bought so much candies and cookies and chips.” Adore said excitedly.

Adore looked back at the kitchen entrance before climbing up the shelves. Courtney watched, mouth agape, before spinning around, the thrill of sneaking candy making it hard for her to stand still.

“Here,” Adore tried to whisper-yell as she threw the candy down from the bucket.

Courtney laughed in delight as she tried and failed to catch the candy. Adore jumped down landing with a loud thump.

“Adore?” Bonnie's voice caused both the girls to freeze in place, “Is that you in the kitchen, Dory?”

Courtney covered her mouth, scared that they’d been caught.

“Uh… Yes. I’m getting water,” Adore tried her best to sound like she wasn’t stealing candy.

“Okay, baby… Just keep it down.” Bonnie replied, sleepily.

“Yes ma’am.”

-

Candy wrappers were scattered across the tree house. Adore was splayed across a bean bag listening to the crackling of pop rocks in her mouth and Courtney’s leg shook as she dipped the stick into the sugary powder, mouth stained blue.

“This is soooo good!” Courtney said, wiggling in her spot.

Adore smiled as her best friend continued to do a little dance, “Did you try this? It pops in your mouth.”

Courtney’s expression turned into one of confusion and shock, “Pops!?”

“Yeah,” Adore nodded, scooting over to Courtney, “say ahh.” Adore said as she poured a few pop rocks into Courtney’s mouth.

She burst into laughter as Courtney let out a squeak of delight, green eyes going wide. “More more more!”

-

“Omigod, you were such a little hyperactive crackass when you ate all that sugar. You know what, this was a terrible idea, give me that candy back…” Adore said, reaching for the box.

“NO!” Courtney shrieked, holding it out of her reach. “It’s my birthday and I WANT CANDY!”

“Nope, I changed my mind…” Adore lunged forward, and the two girls laughed as they started play wrestling, Courtney holding fistfuls of the candy in her hands, trying to shove a lollipop into Adore’s mouth. “It’s mine, you bitch!” she laughed.

Pearl glanced up with a grin on her face, and caught Violet’s eye, the brunette looking as irritated as ever by Courtney and Adore’s weird dynamic. She suppressed a small laugh, reaching over to the open box and taking a package of candy, then walking over to Violet’s seat.

“Hey, Vies. Found some candy with your name on it. Wanna share?” She held up the package of Sour Patch Kids.

“Hilarious,” Violet said drily.

Pearl opened the candy and perched on Violet’s desk. “Would you lighten up? Come on…” she held out the open package.

“You know, you’re not nearly as cute as you think you are,” Violet commented, taking a few of the sour candies with an eyeroll.

“Oh yeah? And how cute am I?” Pearl asked, fluttering her lashes.

“Go fuck yourself…” Violet pushed her off the desk.

Pearl laughed and blew her a kiss. “See you later, muffin. Always a pleasure.”

-

“Hey, Adore what’s up?” Raja asked as Adore slid into the booth across from her, grabbing the plate of pizza that Raja pushed towards her. Adore loved that Raja worked at Cici’s Pizza because it meant free pizza for Adore and she was not one to turn down free pizza.

“Hey. I was wondering if you had any plans for next weekend?” Adore asked, picking at the cheese of her pizza a bit nervous.

“Nothing concrete. What’s up?��� Raja shrugged, biting into her slice of pizza.

“Well, Courtney’s having a party on Saturday...”

“Who’s Courtney?” Raja asked, nose scrunched up in confusion.

“My best friend,” Adore was slightly taken aback that Raja wasn’t familiar with her, “The blonde, she’s doing the Radio Voice part...” Adore tried to jog Raja’s memory, but she only shook her head. “I gave a birthday present to at rehearsal the other day.”

“Oh, she’s the one dating that Roy dude?”

“Yeah… she’s dating Roy.” The tone in Adore’s voice changed. Maybe inviting Raja wasn’t the smartest idea.

“Mmm, nah. I think I might be busy, but if you want to hang out after then just text me and let me know, okay?” Raja smiled, looking at Adore with those hypnotizing brown eyes.

The butterflies fluttered in her stomach and Adore nodded. She figured that Courtney’s party wasn’t exactly Raja’s style, but it hadn’t hurt to ask.

-

Trinity and Fame laid spread across Violet’s bed, staring down at the dark-haired girl as she stretched her legs; complaining about school and school related things.

“When is your next recital?” Trinity asked, changing the subject, fingers drumming against the frame of Violet’s bed.

“In May.” Violet said, switching to the other leg.

“We're all going again?”

“Maybe,” Violet shrugged, “If I want to get you all tickets.”

Trinity rolled her eyes, before looking over to Fame, raising an eyebrow posing a silent question. Fame shrugged and nodded at Trinity.

“So, can we talk about the elephant in the room,” Fame said twirling her hair around her fingers.

“You shouldn’t talk about yourself like that,” Violet sat back on her hands a smirk on her lips.

“Fuck you!” Fame laughed, throwing a pillow at Violet.

“I’m kidding. You’re incredibly beautiful.” She smiled sweetly at Fame.

“Well, I wasn’t going to bring it up but since Fame did… let’s talk about it.” Trinity sat up, folding her legs under herself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Violet said, moving into a split and stretching forward.

“You and-”

“Adore,” Fame finished for Trinity.

“Who?” Violet asked, staying in her position to avoid looking at either of the girls.

Trinity and Fame glance at each other, concern apparent on both their faces.

“Don't play dumb, just tell us what happened.”

“You were there, Trin. She told us, nothing happened.” Violet stood up, grabbing the stray pillow and tossing it back onto the bed.

“That’s what Adore said, but from the way that you’re acting it was more than just nothing.” Trinity rolled her eyes at Violet’s stubbornness.

“I’m not acting like anything,” Violet shot back. “Nothing's wrong.”

“We’re just trying to solve whatever this is between you two, because lunch is starting to get a bit awkward for everyone,” Trinity snapped back.

“Yeah…” Fame nodded.

Violet crossed her arms, looking down at her carpet with sudden interest, before finally sighing, “Fine whatever, it won’t be awkward at lunch anymore.”

“Good, as long as you and Adore are still friends, the group--” Fame started.

“I didn’t say we were friends.” Violet said pointedly, gaining groans of frustration from both the girls.

-

Courtney sat at her desk, half-heartedly working on her English essay while exchanging pictures of possible ideas for the centerpieces via AIM with Darienne, who was the queen of crafting. She’d already helped her with the invitations and was turning out to be a real lifesaver.

Courtney turned her head when she heard knocking on the window, puzzled to see Adore’s face pressed up against the glass. “Let me in!”

Courtney walked over to the window and opened it, giggling. “What are you doing?” She helped her wiggle through the window.

“I was trying to--OW! Be like, cute and it sort of relates to the present, but it would have been a lot more dramatic if you weren’t on the ground floor.”

Courtney laughed and helped her up off the carpet, taking the offered present, labeled “1999.” She opened it to reveal a DVD of Dawson’s Creek, and burst out laughing. “Okay, I get the window thing now. Thank you.”

They moved to sit on the bed. Adore grinned. “Remember how our parents found out that they like, talked about masturbation in the first episode and so they thought it was inappropriate and didn’t let us watch, and so we had to secretly tape it and watch in your sister’s room?”

“Yes! Which was totally hypocritical because like, masturbation was a frequent dinner table conversation in my house. I think my mom was just trying to make the same rules as Bonnie or something dumb like that.”

“Does your mom still try to talk to you about--”

“No, thank goodness, but she did ask me if I thought she should wax her vagina last week. Like I’m supposed to know what’s trendy in vagina grooming.”

“Oh my GOD, Karen.”

“I was like ‘I’m pretty sure that’s a personal decision, mom, and I support whatever choice you make.’”

“I’d have probably left the room and not talked to her for a month.”

“Well she accosted me in the dressing room while we were buying my outfit for the party! But at least she let me get the dress I wanted.” Courtney grinned.

“Was it really worth it?” Adore grimaced.

“You’ll have to tell me.” Courtney rolled over, laughing, chin resting on her arms. “So what are you up to tonight?”

“Uhh...I’m supposed to be hanging out with Raja later, when she gets off work.”

“Has anything...happened with her?” Courtney asked tentatively.

Adore groaned, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to her chest. “Ugh, no, and it’s driving me nuts. Like...I like her so much, and I think she likes me too, but then...sometimes I think it’s all in my head. I feel so stupid.”

Courtney swallowed, ignoring the strange feeling in her stomach whenever she thought about her best friend with the beautiful senior. “It’s not all in your head,” she said softly. “She definitely likes you.”

“Then what is TAKING SO LONG?!” Adore whined. “I mean, it’s not like I wanted a fucking Valentine, but why isn’t she making any moves?”

Courtney tilted her head. “Why does she have to make the moves?”

Adore looked at her. “Well...I mean…I don't know. Cause she's the grown up.”

Courtney raised an eyebrow. “Dude.”

“Good point.” Adore giggled. “I guess I better put up or shut up.”

“Guess so.” Courtney bit her lip.

Adore sat up. “I should probably get going.”

“Wanna use the door?”

“Well, that depends. What are the odds that Karen’s gonna ask me about pussy waxing on my way out?”

“Well. You’re a lesbian, so she’ll probably really value your opinion in this area. Thirty percent?” Courtney grinned.

“I’ll risk the window.”

Courtney laughed and stood up. “I’ll give you a boost.”

-

Courtney paced around her room with a clipboard, talking to Darienne on the phone.

“Yeah, so Thorgy and I finished the video yesterday and he’s gonna film the party and edit that together too. He’s a real lifesaver, actually. My mom did thankfully cave on the still photographer, but she’s making me hire this guy that’s like her friend’s son in film school so hopefully he doesn’t fuck it up...Yeah, I know.”

Roy reached for her hand as she passed him, but she shook him off.

“No, Todd is taking care of that. My mom’s boyfriend. He’s proving very useful.” Courtney laughed. “I know, it’s really helpful that she’s dating a guy 15 years younger than her right now. Can you come over tomorrow to finish the place cards and centerpieces and stuff? I’m finally done with the seating chart. That took FOREVER.”

Roy attempted contact again, this time crawling towards her when she sat down on the bed, trailing his fingers up her back.

“Thanks, Dari. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.” Courtney hung up the phone, then consulted her clipboard with a furrowed brow.

“Hey, babe…”

“Yeah?” Courtney pulled a pen out of her hair and wrote a note down on the clipboard.

“Maybe you could like, take a break from the party stuff for a little bit?” He flashed his dimples at her.

Courtney looked up at him with an irritated expression, sighing.

“Roy, I really don’t think you understand how many details there are to worry about. I still have to finish the song list for Tomas, and make all the centerpieces, and make the shopping lists for Costco for the drinks and supplies and I know I’m gonna forget something and what if something goes wrong--”

Roy held up his hands. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry. I just thought we could relax for like, a minute.” He leaned forward to kiss her shoulder and she swatted him away. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Do you want to leave?” Courtney asked.

He looked up at the ceiling, muttering a silent prayer, and then said, “I am trying to be here for you, but it feels like I’m just annoying you.”

Courtney bit her lip. “Maybe you could be here for me without making me feel like I’m neglecting you because I’m not making out with you every second.”

“Well...but you are neglecting me,” he said, attempting another charming smile, hands sliding around her waist.

“Roy!” Courtney threw up her hands.

“One kiss…”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re so irritating.”

“I know, my persistence is my best quality.”

Courtney leaned over and kissed him quickly. “There, happy now?”

“No, because I’m an addict and you’re my drug…”

Courtney crossed her arms and glared at him, looking at his pouty lips and finally breaking into a smile, tossing her clipboard down and climbing on top of him.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I know, but that’s why you love me, right?”

She rolled her eyes again. “I guess…” He tickled her ribs and she laughed, squirming, until she was gasping for breath and begging for him to stop.

“Hey…”

“What?”

Roy took her face in his hands. “Happy almost birthday.”

Courtney smiled and pulled him in for a deep kiss.

-

COURTNEY: Are you home? Just got out of practice.

ADORE: Nope, at Raja’s. Srry

COURTNEY: I was really hoping we could hang out today : (

COURTNEY: Could use your help with last minute planning for my birthday party.

ADORE: Thought you’d have everything together by now.

COURTNEY: K

ADORE: Look under your bed.

Courtney couldn’t help the smile that stretched across her face as she dropped to the ground, looking under her bed. She pulled out a decorated box, “2000” written across it in gold glitter. Courtney tore the top off, eager to see what her present was. A mixed of emotions flowed through her, but she couldn’t help but laugh with joy as she pulled out a silver plastic necklace, the word “BABY” in sparkly block letters. The note simply said:

Darienne was right. You should have been Baby. And I should have been Ginger. You’re a cunt.

She laughed and sat the box on her bed, grabbing her phone.

COURTNEY: FUCK YOU I’M NOT BABY! I’M GINGER 4 LYYYYYYFE

ADORE: so when you said I would be Ginger next time, that was a lie?

COURTNEY: duh

ADORE: CUNT

COURTNEY: lolz

COURTNEY: Although...this does give me a perfectly wonderful idea for the party…

ADORE: I’m afraid to ask.

COURTNEY: MWAHAHAHA

ADORE: See you tomorrow?

COURTNEY: Of course! Love you

-

ADORE: Outside

A minute later, the door flung open and Manila Luzon was smiling at her.

“Hey, girl! We’re upstairs,” the older girl turned, leading her into Raja’s house. Adore’s brows furrowed as she closed the door behind her. When Raja invited her over to watch a movie she thought it would just be the two of them. Adore had yet to properly meet any of Raja’s friends, other than Manila who came over once while they were hanging out to take back a dress that she’d left over.

Adore followed Manila up the stairs, the girl complaining about how they’d yet to choose a movie to watch because Raven was being difficult.

“She’s always bitching and it’s makes things a lot harder than it should be,” Manila groaned pushing open Raja’s bedroom door.

“Fuck you!” Raven said, “I’m not watching Mean Girls for the billionth time,” Raven rolled her bright blue contact eyes before shuffling through the stack of DVDs in her lap. Raven sat on the floor in front of Raja’s bed, where she was joined by Manila. A plumper girl with bleached hair and dark eyebrows sat in the chair at Raja’s desk clicking through her phone. Adore hovered in the doorway when she saw Raja laying on her bed--head in Carmen’s lap. Adore was somewhat familiar with the dark-eyed junior, since she’d dated Roy back when they were all in Junior High. Although she’d gotten a lot taller and more beautiful since then. Damn.

“Hey,” Adore said with a small wave of her hand. Manila looked up at her with a smile, Carmen gave a small wave back, the girl at Raja's desk only glanced up from her phone and Raven continued looking for a movie, completely ignoring Adore.

Raja raised up from Carmen's lap, “Hey,” she smiled. “Come sit by me.” Raja patted the bed, maneuvering so Adore could have some room.

“Don’t you think it’s a little crowded with all three of us?” Carmen's nose wrinkled.

“Be a doll and move over, or I’ll make you sit on the floor!” When Carmen crossed her arms, turning up her nose, Raja started to tickle Carmen's side, causing her to yelp and burst into a fit of laughter.

Adore made her way to sit on the end of Raja's bed, trying to ignore the burning jealousy in her chest. Even though she was ninety-six point five seven percent sure that Carmen was straight, watching Raja be so physical with the pretty girl made the wheels turn in Adore’s head. They've been hanging out for a few weeks now and nothing had happened. Nothing. The most Adore had gotten were a few lingering touches on her shoulder or arm that didn’t seem to mean much when all added up. Adore had really thought that Raja was interested in her, the same way she was in Raja.

Apparently, she was wrong. She tore her eyes away from the giggling girls, situating herself on the edge of the bed. Her phone then lit up with a text from Courtney, wanting her to come over. Adore tried to block out the two girls behind her, focusing on texting Courtney.

“Hey, Adore.” Manila called, and Adore looked up to see Manila holding one DVD case and Raven another. “Bring It On or Scream?”

“Uh…” Adore thought for a moment.

“I don't even know why you asked her, she’s a plus one. She gets no vote,” Raven sneered, before calling on the girl in the chair to choose. “Delta?”

Adore frowned. She’d heard Raven was a bitch through rumors, but she didn’t expect her to be such a bitch. She made Violet look like a teddy bear.

“Um, I think I’d rather watch Bring It On,” she said.

“Yay!” Manila clapped.

“Really? You have awful taste,” Raven groaned.

“I would vote for Scream,” Adore butted in, not wanting Raven to think that she got the best of her.

“Okay, well at least your taste in movies isn't as bad as your taste in clothes,” Raven said, snickering to herself.  

“The fuck--” Adore started, completely forgetting where she was for a moment. Manila elbowed Raven and Raja shot up from where she had been wrestling with Carmen.

“Woah! So first of all: We're not watching a scary movie--”

“It's not even scary.” Raven defended.

“Whatever,” Raja rolled her eyes at Raven, “Out of the question and second: Adore is my guest, so… don't fucking insult her.”

“Whatever.”

-

Adore couldn’t focus on the movie. Her mind was racing and her eyes kept glancing over at Raja who was mindlessly playing with Carmen’s hair. Adore already felt out of place amongst the older girls, but seeing the way Raja interacted with Carmen really made her feel like an idiot. This entire time she thought or hoped that Raja was interested in her romantically to some degree, but it seemed that Raja just wanted to be friends.

Adore tried to put together where she should have taken the hint or might have misinterpreted any signs, but she couldn’t find any.

Soon, the movie was over and Delta stood, stretching.

“I need to head out. If I'm late for dinner my ma will kill me. Plus tonight she's making tamales and my Tio acts like he doesn't understand the difference between a family dinner and a buffet,” Delta grabbed her bag. “Carmen, need me to take you home?”

“Yeah, let me grab my stuff,” she scurried to put on her shoes.

A warm hand on Adore’s arm grabbed her attention, “I'll take you home,” Raja said in a low voice as she leaned in; face inches from Adore’s. Adore only nodded.

“I’ll walk you guys out,” Raja stood at her door as the girls gathered their things.

“Bye Adore,” Manila waved as she left the room.

“Yeah, bye Adore. Tell Roy I said ‘hey’. You guys still hang out, right?” Carmen asked as she finished putting her shoes on.

Adore had to stop herself from making a face. As all eyes were suddenly on her.

“Roy? Del Rio? Your ex?” Delta asked, surprised.

“Mhm,” Carmen nodded and Adore avoided looking at Raja, as she felt the older girl’s eyes on hers.

“Yeah, uh, we grew up together. Live on the same street,” Adore nodded, running her fingers through her hair.

“Don’t he date... Uh what’s her name,” Carmen pondered, and Adore had a suspicion that she hadn’t really let Courtney’s name slip. She had all night to think about it.

“Courtney,” Adore said, sitting up.

“The cute blonde?” Raja asked, her dark eyes never leaving Adore and Adore couldn’t help feeling cornered, as if this had been planned.

“Yeah. Um, I’ll tell him you said ‘hey’ next time I see him,” Adore said, desperate for the conversation to end.

“Cool,” Carmen gave a sly smile and Raven mumbled something under her breath, causing Delta to cackle, before turning to leave, followed by Manila and the rest of the girls.

Adore put on her shoes as she waited for Raja to come back up and take her home, but she couldn’t stop thinking about her conversation with Courtney the other day. Maybe she should be the one to make the first move. She wouldn’t know how Raja felt until she asked her.

“Ready to go?” Raja startled Adore, who stood up quickly.

“Yeah... well, actually I wanted to uh… ask you something,” Adore’s heart thumped in her chest as Raja raised a brow.

“Shoot,” she said, leaning back against her dresser.

“Do you actually like me? I mean, like like me, because at first I thought maybe there was... Um something between us. But now I’m kind of confused. I mean if you don’t its cool. I don’t want to make things weird or anything, but I just thought-” Adore’s rambling was cut off by Raja pushing herself off her dresser.

“You’re too cute, you know that,” Raja’s husky voice rang through Adore’s ears as she approached.

Once Raja reached Adore, all she could focus on was the older girl’s long arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer. Adore leaned forward on her toes, eyes fluttering shut; the feeling of Raja’s warm breath on her face was hypnotizing. She smelled of weed and something else intoxicating, almost floral.

“Can I kiss you?” Raja asked and Adore made a noise of agreement that she’d let herself be embarrassed about later.

But all thoughts were lost as Raja pressed her lips to hers. She tangled her fingers into Raja’s hair, a giddy smile spreading across her face as she melted against the older girl’s body.

“Fuck,” she whispered, giggling slightly.

Raja smiled and pulled her head back, tilting her chin up. “What?”

“You’re just...really hot.”

“I know,” Raja replied with a wink, letting go and sashaying to the door. “Come on, let’s go make out in the car, where my mom won’t walk in.”

“Deal!” Adore exclaimed, running after her, cheeks pink with happiness.

[revisitingstoneybrook]

#8 Boy-Crazy Stacey: Chapter 1

Here we go with chapter 1! Check it all out under the cut:

We open with Stacey asking her mom how she's supposed to behave in a MANSION. She's concerned, as she remembers how they helped Kristy give her dog Louie a makeover so he would fit in with the wealthy dogs (which apparently happened in #7 Claudia and Mean Janine...I don't remember that part but I also haven’t read that one in years). Stacey's mom (who’s got it going on) tells her that Kristy is nuts sometimes gets carried away, but she'll always be a dictatorial bitch with a Napoleon complex the same. She then reminds Stacey to be careful about what she eats. Stacey gives her an *eyeroll*, as this is when her parents were still in paranoia mode regarding her diabeetus.

Being that this is an early book, Stacey starts in with the Chapter 2 crap now, when she describes the BSC and all the members. I love how the first few books were in real time and the events are all perfectly sequential. Elizabeth and Watson the Millionaire are newlyweds, the BSC held a play group last month, and they're now going on vacation (separately!) before starting 8th grade for the first of 910 times. Whatever went wrong along the way?

Stacey runs to her bedroom and tries to decide what to wear. She's looking for casual, yet sophisticated, “to look impressive in case any rich neighbors dropped by.” I'm guessing “sultry” is thrown in as well, so she can show off in front of Sam. Was anyone else weirded out by Stacey and Sam being an on-again, off-again couple? I forget if Kristy ever made any mention that she was grossed out by her friend dating her older brother.

Anyway, I wouldn't call the outfit she decides on "sophisticated," even though she says she bought the pink shirt in NYC:

“Big, bright green and yellow birds were splashed all over it. It was gigantic, so it would be cool. I put it on with a pair of baggy shorts, looped a wide green belt around my middle, and hunted up some jewelry - silver bangle bracelets and a pair of silver earrings shaped like bells that actually ring when they dangle back and forth.”

*Checks date of publication* 1987. Mind you, I was barely a year old when this book was written, but even going on what I know about 80s fashion, I am not getting a sophisticated vibe from Stacey's ensemble. More like "I'm going to the mall in August!" or "I'm on vacation in Disney World and it's luau time!"

Stacey whines a bit about how her parents won't let her get two holes pierced in each ear (they say it'll make her look like a pirate), then a car horn beeps outside. Mr. Kishi is driving Stacey, Mary Anne, and Claudia to Kristy's! Unfortunately, we're spared the details of Claudia's outfit.

Stacey runs downstairs to meet them, but her mom stops her to present her with some apple slices. Oh come on, Maureen. Stacey already said Kristy would have some diabetes-approved food for her! She also describes her diabetes and uses the word "kerflooey" to describe what would happen to her blood sugar if she ate a single jelly bean (and not one of those yucky sugar-free kinds). 

Stacey's dad (who’s also got it going on, I guess) is outside gardening, so this is obviously pre-divorce. And do the Stoneybrook dads have any other hobbies besides gardening? Well, I guess John Pike has baby-making. Ed waves goodbye and warns his daughter to be careful. Stacey mentally *eyerolls* again, and reassures herself that they aren't as bad as they used to be. And I think he added the "be careful" in there as a reminder in case she gets near Sam, if you know what I mean. Safety first!

They arrive at the MANSION, and everyone is in awe. Because, you know, it's a real, live MANSION! And they're brought back to reality when they see Kristy hanging out front, in shorts and a t-shirt, eating a Popsicle and reading People. It's a crazy concept, but yes, girls: "normal" people do live in MANSIONS. And People? I could see Stacey or Claudia reading that. Something like Sports Illustrated would be more Kristy’s thing.

Dawn arrives, and the girls head upstairs, with Stacey marveling at how big the MANSION is. She compares it to her apartment in NYC, which was considered big because it had four bedrooms, though Stacey doesn't seem convinced that's big. Um, a four-bedroom apartment in NYC? That's fucking HUGE. And if the McGills could afford an apartment that big, I think Watson the Millionaire has some competition...

They get to Kristy's room and Stacey asks Kristy where her brothers are. Clever way of disguising your interest in knowing where Sam is, Stacey! Unfortunately, getting to third base will have to wait, as Kristy says Sam and Charlie are at their neighbor's house, using the pool. Kristy adds that she and her mom made a ton of sandwiches for dinner, including some plain tuna fish ones for Stacey. What's wrong with the others if Stacey can't have them? Are they chocolate frosting and peanut butter M&M sandwiches? Actually, that sounds like a Claudia creation.

Stacey says she and Mary Anne are spending the next two weeks together and she's nervous about it. Mind, meet gutter. No, they're going to be joining the Pike Army for two weeks as mother's helpers, and Stacey's nervous because they're oh-so different. Stacey brags about her sophistication and "couple of boyfriends," while calling Mary Anne young (you two are the same age! Geez!) with no interest in boys (this is obviously pre-Logan). Well, aren't you so worldy and grown-up, Miss McGill! Do you want to join me for cocktails later?

The other girls express their envy at spending two weeks at the beach; I laugh because Stacey says they'll be chasing after the Pike kids and lists them, including everyone's favorite red-headed, glasses-wearing dweeb. Oh, the days when Mallory was still a babysitting charge. No wonder they still kind of look down on her.

Also, are the Pikes paying for Stacey and Mary Anne to come along, therefore giving them a free vacation apart from the babysitting? If so, pretty sweet deal, even if it means having to endure Mallory for two weeks. Like I asked before, how loaded are the Pikes? 

And if anyone cares, Dawn and Jeff are going to California to visit their dad (leaving Sharon alone to throw the pot party to end all pot parties), and Claudia's going with her family to a mountain resort in New Hampshire. Elizabeth and Watson the Millionaire, however, want to get some family bonding time in with everyone, so they're staying in Stoneybrook. More like Watson the Millionaire's a cheapass, so they're staying in Stoneybrook.

Elizabeth brings the sandwiches and some sodas to Kristy's room and the girls scarf down their dinner. Stacey later tries on some of Kristy's clip-on earrings to see how she'd look with extra piercings, and I'm left wondering what the hell Kristy Thomas is doing with clip-on earrings.

Later, Mary Anne gets a Great Idea (don't tell Kri-, oh wait) for everyone to exchange addresses so they can send postcards. Then Kristy tops that idea with one of her own. She asks Stacey and Mary Anne on penalty of death to write her daily postcards as notebook entries so they can keep the BSC notebook up-to-date. Creepy. And what a wonderful way to waste a ton of stamps! Dawn says she might babysit for her old clients while in California, so she'll send some notebook entries too. Um, WHY?!? Does the BSC honestly give a shit about Stephie, or Clover and Daffodil?

David Michael calls up to them that everyone's parents have arrived. Then Kristy starts to cry, followed by everyone else. So not only is Kristy crying, she's the first one, even before Mary Anne, who cries at everything. WHAT?!? I have a feeling the moon isn't in the seventh house, and Jupiter is not aligning with Mars here. The girls sob into tissues and hug because they're going to be separated for OMG two whole weeks! Geez, the way they're carrying on, you'd think they were going to be apart for two years and heading to opposite ends of the earth. Drama queens. The girls head home and Stacey's still all emo about being separated from everyone for two whole weeks until she looks at her new bikini, which makes her think of the beach and cute boys and she gets excited. Of course she would.

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

Behave For Me

Sub!Charles Blackwood X Dom!Reader Dom!Steve Rogers Charles couldn’t really figure out how he’d found himself in this new predicament, all he’d meant to do was go to the bar, and yet here he was.

a/n:this is entirely porn, no actual plot, enjoy ;)

Charles couldn’t really figure out how he’d found himself in this new predicament, all he’d meant to do was go to the bar, and yet here he was.

The cuffs were digging into his wrists, hands bound behind his back as he whined behind the gag, cock hanging heavy between his legs.  There were two other people in the room, he wasn’t allowed to look at them though, not unless he was told to.  God, this shouldn’t of been as hot as it was.

A Few Hours Before. Charles scanned the club, looking for anyone who would be as interested in him as he was of them.  It seemed a little scarce for a saturday night, the club wasn’t as packed as he’d expected for once.  Sure, there were a few girls who’d been ogling him since he walked in, but they weren’t what he was looking for.  He wanted someone that would be able to truly handle him, not someone weak like he’s been dealt in the past.

A couple had walked in about an hour after he’d arrived, the man’s arm wrapped tightly around his girlfriend’s(?)waist.  His grip was tight, Charles could practically see the muscles that were underneath of the jacket he wore.  The woman’s dress left little to the imagination, hugging closely to her curves as she wrapped herself around his waist.

Her heels looked almost painful, how could she possibly be comfortable wearing something so high?  Then again, it made her legs look nearly a mile long, and it helped accentuate just how utterly gorgeous she was.

“Shit, maybe going over won’t be such a bad idea.” Charles ran a nervous hand through his hair, fixing the leather jacket he’d pulled on.

He’d forgone shaving for the last few days, mainly because he didn’t have time and people usually liked his stubble.  The other man though, once Charles had gotten close enough to truly get a better look at the two, was stunned into silence.

Christ they were hotter up close, his jaw was covered in a beard that was much thicker than Charles would ever expect to see out of someone in this club.  The woman on the other hand, she could easily knock Charles over with just a smile.  How the hell was he supposed to casually talk to them without stuttering?  

“Hi.” Wow, how smooth Charles, you sound like an idiot right now.

The gentleman glanced over, perfect eyebrow raised as he took Charles in slowly, the woman by his side paid no mind.

“Who are you?” Charles didn’t see the man’s mouth move, was he talking?

His eyes landed on the woman who stood beside the man he was now referring to as lumberjack in his head, god she was gorgeous.  Why the hell was he over here again?  Oh yeah, trying to talk to the couple before him.

“Charles, can I buy you two a drink?” He was struggling to keep his calm, the man’s stare was burning a hole right through his chest.

“Martini, extra olives for myself, and whatever beer you’re drinking will be fine for him.” She patted the man’s chest, a smirk playing at her lips.

Charles’ brow furrowed as he glanced down at the bottle he was holding, when had he ordered a beer?  Wasn’t he drinking whiskey over at the bar?

“Who the fuck took my beer?!” Charles felt his blood run cold at that voice, it was one he’d only heard a couple of times before.

He was ready to throw the bottle as far away as he physically could, hide the fact that he’d accidentally picked up the other man’s drink.  The couple he’d been trying to impress noticed his discomfort immediately, pulling him over into their space.

“Set the bottle down onto the table behind you, and come around to my right side.” Gorgeous, as Charles had come to calling her, set the bottle down while the other man’s back was turned, stepping around Gorgeous so that he could keep himself hidden.

He wrapped his left arm around her waist, fingers gliding against Lumberjack’s suit coat as he made himself comfortable.  Jack was angrily searching the club, pushing passed people as he muttered about his stolen beer.  The moment he laid eyes on the still full bottle he stormed over to where Charles was trying to hide in plain sight.

Lumberjack tightened his arm, reaching over to grab onto Charles’ coat as he yanked him further into her side.  Gorgeous barely even so much as blinked as Jack picked up the bottle, spinning around to glare at Charles.

He was only a couple inches shorter than the other man, but Jack had a good twenty pounds of muscle on him.  Lumberjack on the other hand was bigger than both of them, as much was obvious from the size of his thighs.

“Why don’t we head home, it’s getting late.” Gorgeous rested her head against Charles’ shoulder, sliding a hand along the inseam of his thigh.

“Sounds good to me hun, you coming babe?” Lumberjack glanced over, mouth quirked up into a smirk as he laced his fingers with Charles’.

“Yeah.” He felt breathless, shocked that they were continuing this charade to keep him from getting his ass kicked.

They lead him out to the parking lot, Lumberjack never loosening his fingers as Gorgeous stepped around to his other side, letting his hand rest against the swell of her ass.  Oh god, was he about to die?  Be taken to some secret place where they’d sacrifice him?  They just simply seemed too good to be true!

“Thank you for your help back there, Jack would’ve ripped me apart for taking his beer by mistake, guys kind of a hot head.” Charles frowned as Lumberjacks hand tightened for a brief moment, keeping him close to his side.

“Why don’t we let you thank us properly?” Gorgeous stepped around Lumberjack, arms wrapping around Charles’ neck slowly.

He opened his mouth to protest, to say that they’d already done enough for him, before he could utter a single word she’d pressed her lips against his.  Charles wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling their bodies flush together.

“Y/N, why don’t we move it somewhere a little more private?” Lumberjacks voice caught Charles off guard for a moment, realizing that they were still in public, he couldn’t very well do as he pleased.

“Read my mind Steve, coming?” Y/N glanced over to Charles, hands sliding down until she was gripping his right hand.

“Yeah.” Charles would follow them anywhere at this rate, nothing was going to be able to stop him.

He sat in the backseat, watching street lights go by as Steve drove down the long road.  God, where the hell were they even driving to?  There weren’t a lot of houses down this way, not that Charles had even driven this way either.

Charles always stuck to the roads he recognized, in fear of getting lost whenever it was too dark for him to see what the street signs said at night.  It wasn’t that he had bad eyesight, he just didn’t trust people who lived out in the middle of nowhere. 

Then again, he was currently on his way to a couple’s house he’d met a mere hour prior, what if they ended up murdering him?  Find his body stashed somewhere in the woods where he’d already become decomposed?  Oh shit, he needed to get out of this car and back to his apartment before the worst could happen.

“Charles, do you prefer whiskey or scotch?” Steve’s voice floats throughout the car, encompassing Charles as he struggles not to freak out.

“Usually scotch, depends on the occasion I guess.” Charles took a deep breath, composing himself as he glanced up at Steve in the rearview mirror.

Steve hummed softly, pulling onto a road he didn’t recognize in the slightest.  Y/N was relaxing calmly in the passenger seat, legs crossed as she typed a message out on her phone.  Where they hell did they even live?  He’s only been out towards this way once, and that was nearly ten years ago when he was visiting a family member, and even they didn’t live so far.

“Greta told us to have a nice night.” Y/N’s words were quiet, and if Charles hadn’t been paying attention he’d of missed them.

“Let her know she can have the weekend off, she’s been working too much lately.” Steve finally pulled up to what had to be the biggest house he’d seen in actual years.

Hell even his uncles house wasn’t this big, how the hell did they afford something like this?  Were they secret millionaires or something?

“She says thanks, and to have a fun weekend.” Y/N giggles softly, a hidden joke somewhere in her words.

“Shall we?” Steve glanced up at Charles in the mirror, slipping out of the car without another word.

Y/N stepped out, pulling down the bottom of her dress so that her ass was just barely covered.  God, Charles wouldn’t be able to compose himself if he was going to be surrounded by those two constantly.  How would he even be able to please them?  He’d only ever been in monogamous relationships before, how does this even work?

Charles stepped out of the car, following the other two inside what looked like a goddamn mansion from the outside.  It was confirmed, they were secretly millionaires, and if Charles went missing there was nothing anyone would be able to do.

“Scotch?” Steve held out a glass filled with the amber liquid towards Charles, waiting for a response that seemed to be lodged in his throat.

“Thank you.” He took the glass, downing it much quicker than he should’ve.

The liquor burned his throat, though he didn’t mind very much seeing as he was currently standing inside a house with two extraordinarily gorgeous people.

“You offered to thank us for helping you out, is that offer still on the table?” Y/N stepped back into the kitchen.  Her dress from earlier was gone, leaving behind nothing on her skin but lingerie, and the heels she’d had on.

“Yes.” Charles felt his throat tighten, setting down the now empty glass onto the counter.

Steve hummed softly, glancing over to where Y/N was slowly stalking towards Charles.  She reminded him of a panther, deadly, and yet stunningly gorgeous.  A woman on a mission to break the man that stood before her, leather jacket pulled across broad shoulders, hair styled just messily enough.

“Charles, why don’t you be a good boy for me and get yourself undressed, lay your clothes on the counter by Steve.” Y/N kept her posture straight, her tone demanding rather than asking Charles to do as she asked.

He knew better than to rush, to ruin the clothes he’d spent nearly an hour painstakingly putting together so everything looked good.  His jacket was laid down onto the counter, followed by his shirt, jeans, boxers, and lastly socks.

Charles stood naked as the day he was born, standing before two people that were either going to kill him, or bring him to the point of death by orgasm.

Y/N preened happily, stepping closer once more, placing a gentle hand against his chest.  Steve didn’t dare move, watching them like a hungry predator.  Charles had seen that look on other people’s faces before, but something about the brunette terrified him.

So why the hell was his cock harder than a rock at the moment?

“Head down to the bedroom hun, second door on the right, on your knees beside the bed.” Y/N patted his chest once more, heading over to Steve.

Charles knew better than to ignore her orders, walking quickly to where she’d indicated the bedroom was located.  Jesus, the bedroom was bigger than the apartment he was currently living in.  Then again, if their home was this luxurious on the outside, it was really no surprise that it also translated well into the interior.

Taking a slow, deliberate breath, Charles dropped down onto the floor.  The hardwood was cold beneath his skin, warming quickly as he leant his head down, hands clasped behind his back.

The hall was quiet for a while, or at least Charles could only assume was a while, until the sound of laughter floated down like a sweet melody.  Keep your breaths even, they need to know that you can behave.

“What did I tell you?  He’s perfect for us darlin’.” Y/N giggled, stepping over to the closet on the farthest side of the room.

Steve sauntered over to a chair that was placed nearby, it looked worn, the leather brown and supple, upholstered onto thick wooden legs that were covered with black fabric.  There was a clear reason that Steve had plopped down into it, Charles wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to know why.

“Baby boy, have you ever been handcuffed before?” A direct question, that was the only time he’d be able to respond.

“No miss.” He kept his hands tightly behind his back, waiting for the cold bite of metal against his wrists.

“This will be fun.” Y/N’s heels were loud against the dark wood, stopping beside him.

She gestured towards the bed, watching as Charles climbed quickly, being careful not to hurry too much and irritate his muscles.  The bed felt like heaven, was this what being rich felt like?  Sleeping on clouds and drinking scotch that costs thousands of dollars.

“Place your hands up against the headboard for me baby boy, just like that.” Y/N crawled onto the bed after him, straddling his waist as she cuffed each wrist to the sturdy wood.

Charles could feel his cock aching where Y/N had perched herself, wetness pooled between her legs as she checked to make sure the cuffs weren’t cutting off circulation. 

His mind was a mantra of don’t buck up, whatever you do, don’t buck up.  It wouldn’t show them how well behaved he could be, and what good would that be?

“Y/N, the poor boy clearly needs something, don’t leave him hanging anymore.” Steve sounded bored, which floored Charles, how the hell could anyone be bored around a woman like her?

“If you think I’m not doing my job well enough, what did you have in mind?” Y/N had barely turned her head to look at the brunette.

Steve smirked slowly, his grin looked devilish in the best way possible.

“Has he earned the right to be buried deep in your cunt doll?  Cause I don’t think he has just yet.” Charles balled his hands into fists, breath catching in his throat as he watched Steve’s eyes darken.

Y/N sighed softly, running her fingers down Charles’ chest as she pressed more of her weight down onto his cock. “I guess you’re right, but I just needed a cock to fill me up for a little while while I thought about what we could do with him.” Steve was mere inches behind Y/N, hands tracing along the lace that adorned her skin.

“If you needed a fat cock to get you off doll, why didn’t you just ask me?” It was obvious who was truly in control in the relationship, and god it made Charles even harder.

Y/N slid her hands down until they were resting overtop of Steve’s, whispering too low for Charles to pick up what they were saying.  He watched as Y/N and Steve began to pull off the lingerie she’d been wearing, heels clattering to the floor.

Steves clothes were haphazardly thrown down onto the floor, wrinkling as he pulled her back flush to his chest.  Charles could see his cock where it rubbed between her legs, and goddamnit that cock was beautiful.

“Steve, if you don’t give me what I want, I have someone whose more than willing right here.” Y/N sounded somewhat breathless, hands gripping onto his arms that were wrapped around her waist.

“As you wish hun.” Steve pushed his cock into her slowly, grunting as she threw her head back onto his shoulder, a loud moan echoing into the room.

Steve’s thrusts were relentless, cock slamming into her body as she moaned out loudly for more, as if this was the only way to feed her insatiable appetite.

“Maybe we should let him have a taste afterwards, see what all the fuss is about.” Steve’s thrusts didn’t falter, even as Y/N screamed through her orgasm.

Charles whined low in his throat, watching the way Y/N shivered from the pleasure coursing through her body.

“I think someone’s getting jealous.” Steve stilled his hips, buried deep inside of Y/N as he stared down at Charles.

Charles couldn’t accurately describe the emotion that was flowing through the other man’s eyes, pupils blown wide as he began to slowly rock his hips.

“Are you getting jealous of us baby boy?” Y/N pulled off of Steve’s cock slowly, thighs quivering as she laid down against the bound man.

Charles whimpered, wanting desperately to get his hands onto Y/N’s body.  That wasn’t what a good boy did though, not unless he wanted to get punished.

“I think you’re making too much noise, Steven could you please get me a gag for him?” Y/N’s lips were pulled into a smirk, Charles’ jaw dropping open as he watched Steve head over to search for a gag.

Steve had grabbed what looked more like a simple piece of leather rather than an actual gag he’d seen before.  His hands were surprisingly gentle, fastening against the back of his neck as the leather sat between his teeth.  It effectively shut him up, leaving him at the power of the two people before him.

Y/N had been slowly rocking her hips against his aching cock the entire time, ensuring he wouldn’t soften, as if that would be an issue at all.

“Oh, why don’t we put a cock ring on him?  Pretty him up a little more.” Y/N bounced up and off the bed, digging through one of the drawers in a dresser nearby.

The cock ring looked like something even Charles himself owned, a standard black silicone that would keep his cock hard, but keep him from being able to cum.  Unfortunately he couldn’t hold in the loud whine that slipped through as she slipped the ring into place.

“I assumed you could behave better, maybe you need to be punished.” Steve had perched himself in the chair from earlier, legs spread as she lazily stroked his cock.

Y/N pulled the gag back from his mouth, lips pulled into a pout.

“I’m sorry miss, I didn’t mean to speak up.” Shit, he’d done exactly what he hadn’t meant to do.

“I’m going to cuff your hands together and you’re going to lay across Steve’s lap, you deserve the spanking he’s about to give you.” Y/N made quick work of the cuffs, slipping the gag back into place, the sound startling Charles for a moment before he scooted off the bed.

Steve’s eyes were dark, watching him as if he were prey as he laid across the other man’s thick thighs.  Charles could easily rest his bound hands on the floor, the tips of his toes barely grazing the wood on the opposite side.

“I think we should start with five and see if you’ve learned your lesson after that, does that sound alright?” Charles could only nod, afraid if he’d used his voice how high pitch he would sound.

The resounding crack from Steve’s hand echoed through the room before the pain hit Charles like a freight train.  Spanking was one of his all time favorite things, and being able to get it from a man like Steve while Y/N watched?  He wasn’t so sure the cock ring would be able to keep him in check anymore.

Steve was relentless, each smack hitting harder until he hit five, humming lowly for a brief moment.

“I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet, I think you need at least fifteen before you figure out how misbehaved you were.” Charles could feel tears well up, slipping down his cheeks as Steve’s spanks became harsher.

The skin was a bright cherry red, skin flaming hot when Steve landed the last and final smack.  Charles was fully sobbing now, hands tightened into fists as he struggled to support himself on the other man’s lap.  Y/N was still sitting on the bed, legs crossed as she watched Steve lift the weeping man gently.

“Took your punishment so well for us, if you need to stop at all, tap my arm.” Charles didn’t do anything except for cry, hands staying pressed together as he glanced up at Steve.

Stormy depths stared into crystal blue, conveying words he couldn’t announce properly due to the gag between his teeth.  It gave Steve a new sense of pride, chest puffing as he carried Charles over to the plush bed.

“I think our baby boy deserves a treat, since he behaved so well while I was so, rough.” Steve wrapped a hand around Charles’ aching cock, stroking a few times as precome spread along his belly.

Charles threw his head back into the pillows, holding in the moments he wanted so desperately to let out, to let them know how good this felt.  He’d been too focused on the hand that he failed to notice Y/N climbing onto the bed, the hand disappearing as she straddled his cock and sank down slowly.

He couldn’t hold back after that, loud moans muffled behind the gag as she began to bounce her hips, slick coating his cock.  Charles could feel the way she tightened around his cock, orgasm washing over her as she continued her movements.  He couldn’t cum though, not with the cock ring digging in harsher than before.

“Doll.” Y/N’s hips stopped immediately, eyes flitting over to Steve who’d crawled onto the bed beside them.

The word sounded innocent enough, if it weren’t for how Steve was watching the pair, eyes hungry as he held his cock in hand.  The tip was an angry red, almost purple in the right light if he looked close enough.

“He’s all yours.” Y/N continued her movements though, much to Charles’ confusion.

Steve unclasped the gag, slipping it from his teeth and tossing it somewhere behind himself.  That was a problem for later, right now Steve was hard enough to cut glass and there was only one person he wanted to help deal with that.  Y/N threw her head back, slick gushing over Charles’ cock as he pulled harshly on the cuffs.  He hadn’t been told he could touch either of them, and he was going to be a good boy.

“On your stomach, now.” Charles watched Y/N ease off of him, helping flip him over so he was laid flat on the bed.

Steve gripped his hair roughly, pulling his head up so his mouth was level with the tip of his cock.

“You’re gonna be good and take my cock, aren’t you?” Charles could barely nod with the hand held roughly in his hair, eyes flicking up to catch Steve’s.

So he did the next best thing, took Steve’s cock into his mouth as if he’d done it a thousand times before.  The brunette moaned loudly, pushing further into his mouth until the other man was gagging, choking practically.

Steve was relentless with his thrusts, keeping Charles’ head down as he began to fuck the other man’s throat with earnest.  His moans though, Charles could get off hearing those alone, deep and husky as he chased his release.  Y/N must’ve slipped off the bed to grab a jar of salve while Charles was deep in his own little world, the cold sensation causing a guttural moan to slip through.

Steve couldn’t hold back from that, cumming deep in his throat as his hips stuttered for a brief moment.  Charles swallowed every last drop, licking his cock clean as Steve slowly pulled out.  He knew he’d done good, from the way his mind drifted off to a space that always comforted him after intense sessions.

The cuffs were taken off, body shifted so he was laid in the middle instead of the side, Steve gently pulled the cock ring off him, cum coating his stomach as he whined softly.  He could sleep for a year after that, sated and happy.

“C’mon, don’t fall asleep on us just yet.” Y/N draped herself along his side, running gentle fingers over his back.

“Mmm not asleep.” Charles cuddled into the pillows, humming at the softness.

Steve chuckled somewhere far off, he could barely lift his head to figure out where.  The other man joined the bed after a few moments, cleaning Charles’ thighs and stomach before heading off again.

“You did so good for us, even if we had to leave early ‘cause you managed to piss off someone at the club.” Y/N giggled softly, fingers gliding over the salve she’d put on his burning skin.

“Thought it was mine, forgot.” Charles was sinking further, mind drifting off before Steve could join them once more.

He was well behaved, and that was what mattered to his two doms.

[katedrakeohd]

Personal Shopper

A Choices : Save the Date Fanfiction

Pairing: MC Stella Jennings and Martin Mercado (Justin)

Rated: PG for language.

Word count: approx. 2800

Context: Martin calls Stella and asks for a favor.

Author's note: Stella's personal thoughts appear in italics

Tagging:

@dailydoseofchoices @sanvivrma @samihatuli @gardeningourmet @lovealexhunt @princess-geek @loveofafangirl @storyofmychoices @msjpuddleduck @perriewinklenerdie @thepotatobleh @shrinkthisviolet @griselda1121 @iamnotjesha @desiree-0816

*************

I'm standing in the bridal boutique with Lindsay finalizing our plans to attend the Wedding convention in Niagara Falls, when my phone starts ringing. Without looking at the caller ID I answer, “Hello, Jennings Wedding Planners. We make weddings spectacular, how may I help you?”

After the words leave my lips there's a pause, giving me just enough time to feel awkward about using the word ‘spectacular' .

“Stella, Hi. It's Martin.”

It's been a while since we've spoken, and I can't help but feel a tingle of excitement at hearing his voice. When I don't say anything he continues,

“Nora's wedding is coming up soon, and I was wondering if I could ask a favor?”

Oh so now he needs me for something. Is this a test?

“What kind of favor?”, I ask.

“Well as wedding planner I value your opinion on what to wear, and as Best Man I need a tuxedo. Could you help me pick one out?”

Well I've already overseen the picking out of wedding dresses. And this would give me another chance to show Martin that I can be professional and take my job seriously. So why not?

“Ok Martin, are we picking something out of your closet or are we going shopping?”

I can hear the smile in his voice when he answers, “I want something fresh and new for Nora's wedding, so let's go shopping. Are you free this evening?”

When he's not mad at me for something his voice does carry a certain charm. I wish it didn't affect me so much.

“I'm free, where are we going?”

“I'll text you the address. Meet me there at 7?”

I can't help but smile, “It’s a date.”

I hear him laugh on the other end, “Don't be late.”

As I look out the window of my taxi I can't help but shake my head. Given that the address Martin gave me borders on the south end of Central Park, it couldn't have said more “fancy rich guy” if it tried. When the taxi stops outside of the Ritz-Carlton hotel, I see Martin standing talking to the doorman. When the doorman steps over to get my door, Martin waves him off and opens it for me.

“Wow, aren't we being a gentleman?” I tease as I climb out of the taxi.

“Well you're here to do me a favor, so it's only right.”

Martin knocks on the passenger window and the driver rolls it down to accept his credit card.

I stand on the sidewalk and wait. The Ritz-Carlton doorman tips his hat to me in greeting and I blush. As the taxi drives away Martin comes back over to me.

“So this is a hotel. I thought we were going shopping?” I ask, eyeing Martin warily.

Martin's usual stern facade shifts and he smiles, “Oh we are, the store isn't far from here. So I figured we could walk.”

I shrug, falling in step beside him as we join the flow of pedestrians. “Don't tell me you're taking me to shop on 5th Avenue.” I joke.

Martin glances at me all serious, “Well yes, I always shop on 5th Avenue.

Of course you do.

As we walk by the other hotels on the street the crowd on the sidewalk gets more dense, and it's tough not to bump into people. A group of people come at us from the other direction and I have to step closer to Martin to avoid being trampled. Without warning I feel him take my hand, he leans in close to whisper. “Don't worry, I've got you.”

I give his hand a grateful squeeze, “Thanks, remind me again why walking is better than taking a taxi?”

As he guides me around a woman pushing a stroller, he smiles. “I like walking with you Stella. Remember how I walked you home after Nora's bridal shower?”

“I remember wanting to learn more about the real Martin that hides behind the façade of CEO event planner guy.”

We navigate the maze of cross walks and find ourselves on 5th Avenue.

“Well consider this as an another insight into who I am. I love this city, I live this city. The excitement, the people, the living breathing organism that is the exchange of commerce and business. I feel so energized to be a part of it.”

As I look down at his expensive shoes and the designer clothes he's wearing it reminds me of the divide between our economic classes. We might live on the same island, but he's all high-rise Penthouse and I'm Hell's Kitchen. I don’t belong in his social scene at all, yet here I am planning his sister's wedding and holding his hand. It's terrifying and exciting at the same time, like I'm on a carousel ride and if I dare let go it will all disappear and be just a dream.

He holds the door open for me as we enter the men's wear store at Bergdorf Goodman and as we step inside he looks like he's right at home. I feel like an ugly duckling in my basic cotton dress and sandals. He leads the way to the escalator and we go up to the second floor formal wear department.

The mannequins are all sharply dressed in suits of various colors and designer brands. As the only feminine thing in the whole room it feels very intense, almost erotic to be surrounded by such powerful masculinity.

The way that Martin just casually walks by the expensive price tags on display is mindboggling. But then this is his world, and money is no object. As we approach the clerk behind the counter the man smiles at us and greets Martin like an old friend.

“Martin! Back so soon! And with a pretty girl on your arm. How can I help you two today?”

Martin smiles back, “Good evening, Eric. My sister's getting married next month and I need a tux.”

Eric eyes me appraisingly as if I'm Martin's date. He seems to approve, but I don't know for sure because he quickly averts his attention back to Martin.

“Nora, right? Well tell her congrats for me. So for this extra special occasion are we going for something equally as special? Perhaps a tail coat this time?”

Martin shrugs and then looks at me, “That's not quite what I had in mind as Best Man, but let's ask the wedding planner. What do you think Stella?”

I hold my hand up, needing to clarify something first, “Hang on, I'm still trying to get over the fact that the staff know you by name. Just how many suits have you bought here?”

Martin grins at Eric, “Well this will be the fifth. There was Prom, two award shows, and of course Sam and Ali's wedding. I like shopping here because they carry the styles and brands that I like. Plus they have my size and measurements on file which helps.”

Eric laughs and smacks Martin on the arm, “Besides Martin and I go way back because we used to work here together.”

“So you weren't always part of your Dad's event planning business?” I ask, trying to imagine Martin working behind the counter at a clothing store.

“I was in highschool and Eric was in college. We worked in the backroom more so than directly with customers. It was my first taste of the business world at the ground level.”

Eric smiles, “One of the best, most down-to-earth guys I’ve ever worked with.”

Wait, what? Bossy pants, rich guy Martin is actually a nice guy under all of that expensive cologne? I knew it.

“Stop it Eric, you’re going to ruin the hard ass millionaire persona I’ve been trying so hard to uphold,” Martin jokes.

The air between us gets a little more awkward as Martin looks at me and smiles. What game are you playing Mister? You like me, then hate me, then you look at me like that and my knees go weak. Stop teasing me.

Eric claps his hands to dispell the moment and bring me back to reality, “Ok then, enough reminiscing, let’s get you a tux.”

He leads us to the racks and starts pulling things. “Let’s try this, and…this, oh and this one.”

Eric’s confidence as he chooses designer looks just at a glance is so different to Lindsay’s timid nature at the bridal boutique. He knows his niche market so well and obviously excels at it. I wish I could get the two of them in the same room, and just maybe some of his confident optimism would rub off on her.

He hands Martin a bunch of hangers as he leads us to a changing room, “I’m sure you two will be just fine with these, I’ll check back on you later.”

I feel a sudden panic take over at the idea of being left alone with Martin in a changing room. “Wait, you’re not going to help advise him about fit and stuff like that?”

Eric smiles, “I think in this matter that Martin would value your opinion more than mine. I’ll give you some privacy.”

Did he just wink at Martin before he left?

I suddenly feel hot all over when Martin hands me the hangers and then starts to unbutton his shirt, This is so not in my job description. What is going on?

I feel myself blush and look away, “Um, Martin should I wait outside?”

As he unbuttons the cuffs on his sleeves he looks down briefly as he slips off his shoes. “Only if you really want to Stella, I’m not too shy to ask for your help if I need you.”

If he needs me? What if I want to help now?

My eyes are drawn to the open neck of his shirt and the little bit of chest he’s revealed. I hang up the suits I’m holding and step toward him. “Let me help you with that.”

Martin doesn’t argue as I gently lay my hands on his chest, smoothing the fabric under my palms and running my thumb up over the buttons. His hands hang at his sides as he watches mine work to undo the buttons. I can feel his warm breath on my neck, and I boldly let my thumb graze against his skin as I reach the bottom button. Biting my lip I tug the shirt up out of his waistband. As I undo the last button I look up and meet the dark intensity of his eyes with my own. Our lips are only inches apart and I see him gasp as I run my hands up his bare chest and slide the shirt off of his shoulders and then it drops to the floor.

“Stella,” he whispers, catching my hands in his. “That's enough, thanks for the help.”

I step back and let my eyes wander down his toned and muscled arms and chest, ending at his abs, trying not to focus on anything below the belt. He clears his throat and then I look back up at his eyes.

“Are you sure you don't need help with anything else?” I ask, bending down to pick up his shirt. It's still warm and smells like him.

He pushes his shoes off to the side, and undoes his belt. I can't help but watch his hands.

“Yes Stella, I think I can manage the rest from here. I'm quite capable of dressing and undressing myself.”

I feel warm all over as I back out of the changing room, “I..I understand. I'll be outside if you need me.”

I lean against the wall and try to catch my breath. My mind, nerves and sexual desire are buzzing in overdrive.

Holy hell what the heck was that? He had no reservations about taking his shirt off in front of me. What the fuck is this twisted game he's playing? Was he just testing me to see if the attraction is mutual? Because it definitely is.

My eyes are closed, when I hear the door open.

“Okay, what do you think?”

My head snaps round to the sound of his voice. Damn he looks good in black. The crisp white of his shirt pops against the caramel color of his skin, and the bowtie draws attention to his handsome face and brilliant smile.

“Wow, Martin. Just wow.” I can't hide my smile of admiration.

“I know right? Eric really knows what looks good on me.”

He certainly does.

“You bet I do!” Eric says, grinning from ear to ear with pride.

After a quick visual assessment Eric nods. “And it's a perfect fit.”

Martin catches me staring and makes a show of adjusting his shirt cuffs and smoothing the lapels of his jacket. I can feel myself blush when he lays a smoldering look on me. He knows he looks good and that I'm checking him out. He undoes the button on the jacket and casually stuffs his hands in the pockets of the trousers as if he already owns them.

“Great then. I'll get changed and then you can ring me up.”

Eric smirks at me when Martin disappears to go change, “You like him don't you? You know you're just his type. Please tell me that you two are a thing.”

I'm caught off guard by his observation, but I can't help but tell him the truth.

“Not yet, but I'm working on it.”

Eric laughs, “I knew it! The two of you have been setting off serious sparks ever since you walked in.”

Well whatever is going on it's seriously something volatile.

“You're his friend, any advice for me?” I ask nervously.

I can't believe I'm really asking someone how to pursue a relationship with Martin.

“Be patient, he knows what he's got going on, but under it all he has a good heart and a good head.”

“And a good face.”

He grins and points at me, “You, Stella. I like you. Got spunk for days.”

Martin comes back out, “What are you two grinning about?”

“Oh nothing. Stella and I were just talking about cute boys that's all.”

He laughs, “I bet your husband wouldn't like that.”

Eric laughs, “Nah he'd just be jealous about missing out on the details.”

I blush and look down at my shoes, praying for the floor to open me up and swallow me whole. “Um, can we go now?”

Eric winks and collects the tuxedo and accessories from Martin, “But of course Madame et Monsieur, right this way.”

Standing next to Martin at the counter I try not to peek at the price of everything as Eric rings them up. Martin hands over his black Visa card. “So I'm assuming the hemming of the trousers to the proper inseam is included. And that everything will be delivered to my address?”

Eric smiles and nods as he makes a note on the receipt. “Yes Mr. Mercado, and as always it's been a pleasure doing business with you.”

“Thanks Eric, we'll be back.”

We? What's this we all of a sudden?

“Nice to meet you Stella.” Eric says as we turn to go.

I smile and wave and then Martin leads me back out of the store. Out on the street I turn on him.

“Ok Martin, out with it. Why did you really invite me out to go shopping with you?”

Martin runs his hand over the side of his face, and looks down at his shoes with a sigh. “Honestly?”

I fold my arms across my chest, “I'd like the truth, yes.”

Martin looks up and the expression on his face is open and sincere. “The truth is…that..that I like you Stella. I was looking for an excuse to see you again.”

Well holy shit. I don't know what to say.

“Stella?” he says, as he catches me staring at him again. “Say something.”

I blink and then look down and reach for his hand. When I look back up at him again he's smiling. “I think I'd like that Mr. Mercado.”

He steps closer, “And what exactly would you like Stella?”

“For you to find more excuses to see me. Because I like spending time with you too.”

He brings his hand up to brush the hair back from my face, his thumb grazes my cheek and sends a thrilling sensation traveling down my neck. He leans in close and my eyes drop down to focus on his lips, now just a breath away from touching mine. I suck in a breath in anticipation and then he draws himself back.

With a sigh he steps back from me. “Can I call you sometime?”

I feel like all the air has been squeezed out of my lungs so I just nod.

“Yes, anytime.” I manage to whisper.

"Okay good, but for now let me call you a cab."

[writeyourownlifestory]

Lights Up

Chapters: 5/20 Fandom: IT Rating: M Warnings: No warnings at this time Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh/Ben Hanscom Additional Tags: PunkRocker!Eddie, Writer!Richie, Beveddie!Friendship, No Clown Written by: myself & @ahardlife​ Tag list: @richietoaster, @beproudtozier, @that-weird-girls-blog, @s-onora, @s-s-georgie, @bellarosewrites, @iamcupcakefrosting, @reddieonwheels, @ghostnebula, @madidraw @madi-main, @gazebobullshit, @thoughtfullyyoungduck​, @airbenderking

Puff piece writer Richie Tozier is given the chance of a lifetime to interview his celebrity crush: Dr. K, the lead singer of punk rock band, Trashmouth. Dr. K is about to release his first solo album and Richie wants to get all the dirty details. But all is not what it appears to be and the two realize they know each other from a different time, in a different place, when they were both very different people.

Chapters one, two, three, four

Still Into You - Paramore 

I should be over all the butterflies but I'm into you, I'm into you And even baby our worst nights I'm into you, I'm into you Let 'em wonder how we got this far, 'Cause I don't really need to wonder at all Yeah, after all this time I'm still into you

Richie went back home with more than half of his questions unasked but full of hope. Hope that Eddie wanted to see him again. Hope that Eddie wanted to answer his questions. It felt weird, but good, to have him back.

Fuck, his therapist would surely have a stroke right now if he knew that the progress they had made went right down the drain. Oh fuck it, he paid him big time so he could do with what he learned whatever he liked.

And what did he do to distract himself from Eddie? Well, edit Dr. K’s interview all night. It was still weird, not separating Dr. K from Eddie. They were so different but at the same time, he couldn’t deny it. Under the eyeliner and dark clothes, there was still that guy with a soft smile he thought he would never see again. The boy that haunted his dreams night after night.

Fuck.

He was spiraling down again, wasn’t he? Maybe he needed to call his therapist and book an appointment after all these years. First thing in the morning.

He fell asleep around four on top of his computer, without even realizing it, so when he heard the doorbell rang, he was surprised he wasn’t in his bed. Confused and still half asleep, he went to answer. Whoever it was, he was going to have to bear with his bad breath, messy hair and pajamas, which consisted of a pair pickle rick pajama bottoms -yes, he was a thirty-year-old man, thank you-  and an old Trashmouth shirt, his first one (and he was proud that it still fits.) Thank god Eddie wasn’t there to see that.

But Richie’s life was a mess and he left his luck forgotten in his mother’s womb, so when he opened the door, there he was, dressed as simply as the day before, but with a cap and glasses on, Eddie, a.k.a. Dr. K, in all his glory.

“I was in the neighborhood.” The man said with a smirk, lowering his glasses down to squint at the wrinkled shirt Richie was wearing. “Is that mine?”

“What? No, it’s mine.” Richie told him outright.

“I meant my band, dumbass.” Eddie chuckled.

Richie had halfway forgotten he was even wearing the thing, mostly because he had so many graphic tees and band shirts that they all got mixed up whenever he’d pull something on to sleep in. He shook his head, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. “What’s up, dude?” He asked, his voice heavy as he tried to come off as casual as possible.

“Told you. I was in the neighborhood.” Eddie mentioned with a shrug. “Mind if I come in?”

Richie always imagined this sort of thing. Well, kind of. He didn’t expect a rockstar to just show up on his doorstep. If anything, they’d meet at a stage door or a bar and he’d go back to the millionaires home, but instead, he was here. Wanting to come into his shitty apartment. It felt like something that came right out of a fanfic site.

Except this wasn’t just some rockstar. This was fucking Eddie.

Eddie who used to babble on and on about how dirty Richie’s carpet was, and how he never made his bed, and always left his clothes on the food. And honestly, it was the same shit except Richie had hardwood floors that could honestly use a polishing.

Regardless though, it wasn’t like Richie could tell him no.

So he stepped aside and allowed him to enter his apartment, wishing he had been given a heads up so he could have gotten dressed and clean up. However, Richie didn’t always get what he wanted in life. If he did, he wouldn’t be the miserable bastard he was today.

Eddie entered the home, looking around casually before turning back to Richie, finally removing the cap and sunglasses.

“If you wanted to blend in, you should have worn the polo and track shorts. Could have looked like every other dad in Whole Foods.” Richie mentioned to him, going to lean against the island, once again hoping to pull off the casual look.

“You shop at Whole Foods?” Eddie asked with a raised brow.

Richie didn’t reply. He shopped. Sometimes. Mostly ate out, because he could afford it, and anything he had at home was microwavable. And there was nothing wrong with that, at least to him.

“So um, what’s with the haircut?” He asked instead.

Eddie laughed shortly, caught off guard. “What?”

“You cut your hair. You used to have like, all the flowy locks and shit,” Richie gestured to his hair, which wasn’t that long or flowy but was a lot longer Eddie’s newest hair cut. It was similar to what he used to wear when they were kids, back when Eddie’s mom was in charge of how he wore his style.

“Oh. Just wanted something different.” He admitted. “New album. New me, right?” Eddie paused, raising a brow to Richie. “Is it bad?”

“What? No! No, no.” Richie shook his head quickly. “It looks great! Amazing, honestly. I mean, you went from looking like a seventies twink to like, a modern twunk.”

“What the actual fuck is a twunk?”

“A twinky hunk. Or hunky twink. You’re small but strong. Like . . . a bossy bottom.”

“Did you just call me a bottom?” Eddie asked, sounding more amused than offended.

“Are you? Wait, are you...are you still into...you know.”

“Richie, I write songs about fucking men, are you seriously asking me if I’m still gay?”

Richie paused, shifting from one leg to the other. He rubbed his hands together nervously, unable to what to say. He didn’t want to put his foot in his mouth or anything else. “I mean. I don’t know. Still trying to find out the difference between Dr. K and Edward Kaspbrak.”

“I think I’m trying to find out the differences too,” Eddie admitted somberly, going to lean across from Richie. “But, for a starter, whether it’s Eddie or Dr. K. We’re both gay. You of all people should know that.”

“Kids do stupid things when they’re, well, kids.” Richie shrugged.

“Hiding inside the standpipe was stupid,” Eddie told him carefully. “Going down to the quarry or jumping off the edge into that disgusting water was stupid. What we did wasn’t stupid, Rich.”

Richie didn’t know if he wanted to talk about it. They should. They had to. How could they not? They went from strangers to friends, to best friends, to boyfriends, and then to strangers again so quickly that even after all these years Richie was still dealing with the whiplash.

They didn’t do anything more than a kiss. Fuck, they didn’t even fully makeout. They were fucking thirteen years old. The first time Richie even talked about touching his dick, Eddie called him gross and made him double wash his hands before hanging out.

They were young, but they knew what they wanted and they knew the world wouldn’t fully understand them. They were alone together in this big, dark, scary place, but that was fine. Richie was okay because he knew he wasn’t suffering in silence. He had Eddie and Eddie had him.

And then they have pulled apart and Richie didn’t know how to cope. He had to pay hundreds upon hundreds of dollars for a therapist just to be able to say ‘I’m gay’ out loud.

And now here he was, talking about the sexuality of his favorite rockstar, with his favorite rockstar, who also happens to be or at least was, his favorite person too.

What a clusterfuck. People should write a book about it. Maybe make it a soap opera.

“What about you?” Eddie asked with a raised brow. “Did you switch sides in the past few years?”

“I met a girl at one of your concerts and threw up on her when she touched my dick,” Richie admitted in a blunt ramble. “Safe to say, I’m into dudes.”

It wasn’t the worst night of his life. Close, but he’d give that to any time in High school, but overall, the night he attempted to hook up with a girl wasn’t the most shining moment in Richie’s existence. He already knew that he enjoyed guys, but he thought if he could convince himself that he also liked girls that he’d be okay. That he could get away with not having to pretend.

College-Richie wasn’t the brightest, all right?

He drank and got turned on by watching the lead singer of this new punk rock band and let some girl flirt with him. They made their way into the bathroom and made out, which wasn’t terrible despite the stickiness of her lip gloss and the sweet smell of her perfume giving him a headache.

Her breasts were soft and that was pretty off-putting, but he ignored it cause his dick was hard. And then she pushed her skinny fingers into his jeans and wrapped them around his dick and suddenly Richie turned into Linda Blair all over her.

She wasn’t horrible about it. Like, she didn’t scream or anything. She just walked away from him and that was fine. It was better that way.

Richie went back to his dorm and screamed into his pillow, falling asleep to the first Trashmouth album.

“Oh buddy,” Eddie whispered. The way that you’d say when you realize how pathetic something is, but you don’t want to make the person feel even worse about themselves.

“It’s fine,” Richie said, squinting his eyes shut. He hadn’t grabbed his glasses and the world was just a bit fuzzy. “I’m fine now. Gay as a three dollar bill and all that shit.”

“I think it’s ‘queer as a three dollar bill.’” Eddie mentioned to him.

“Regardless, it’s what I am. In and out of Maine.”

“I won’t tour there,” Eddie said suddenly. “Wasn’t exactly ideal. The label tried to make me go but I refused to go on. I guess I got a rep for being a diva or whatever, but I won’t go back to that place.”

“You never told me how you go out,” Richie mentioned.

“Right.” Eddie sighed. “I guess you’ve earned my tragic backstory.”

“I was there for it asshole. At least partly.” He straightened and stretched, scratching at his five o'clock shadows. “Lemme get dressed. Get my glasses. We can talk.”

“You should keep the shirt on. It looks good on you.”

“Glad to know you still like being on top of me, Eds.” Richie fired back, making his way into his bedroom.

He returned not long after; actual clothes on this time around. Jeans and a plain tee shirt. Nothing fancy or anything with Eddie’s face on it. He had his glasses on this time around, though he partially wished he didn’t.

When he walked back out, Eddie was standing in the corner, looking at the shrine that Richie had made to all the celebrities that had changed his life. Dr. K, of course, was at the forefront and now he was here, staring at it.

“Oh fuck.”

“It’s nice,” Eddie told him, his eyes remaining on the picture. “I’m honored.”

“Listen. Lemme just get this out right now. I went through some dark shit and your music, I don’t know if it’s just you or the whole band, but it helped me a lot, okay?” Richie rushed to explain; he just wanted Eddie to stay and not run out scared that he was just another crazed fan who wanted to keep a lock of his hair in a book or something.

“You don’t have to explain anything, Rich.” Eddie interrupted him carefully. “It’s . . . well, the band is good. They’re great guys, but I did the writing. I . . . I ended up becoming a star by accident, I guess.” Eddie admitted, moving deeper into the room and going to sit on the couch. “I was at school and took up music as an elective. I took up the guitar because it always seemed interesting. A buddy of mine had a band. I invited me to go and play with them for a while. After one show he got too drunk to go on and I ended up being the lead singer and guitarist. Some big wig for the music industry ended up being there. He likes my style and asked me to play with this group of guys who needed a singer and that’s that.”

“I always thought you had a nice voice,” Richie mentioned going to sit across from him, knees bent as he leaned against the arm of the couch. “Then again, singing along to Whitney in your bedroom and selling out Madison Square Garden isn't the same thing.”

“This break up. It’s not a breakup, with Trashmouth.” Eddie admitted gently. “Those guys are like brothers to me. But they have wives and families and shit. We’ve been doing this for almost ten years nonstop. They’ve missed a lot. They wanna take a break and I respect that.”

“You don’t wanna take a break?”

Eddie shrugged easily. “I’m not married. I don’t have kids. Shit, I don’t even have a dog. I think if I took a break I might lose my mind with boredom.”

“You could get a dog,” Richie suggested.

“I’d love to but seeing as I am homeless at the moment.”

“ Homeless! ?” Richie spits out. “Dude, you’re worth millions, how the fuck are you homeless?”

“My place is being worked on. Being demolished. Hated the way it looked so I’m having it remade, though the contractor I am dealing with is a real dickhead.”

“Is that why you’re at the fancy-schmancy hotel?” Richie asked with a raised brow.

“Beverly’s place is too small and I still have a penthouse in New York, but we’re recording here in LA so it’s not like I can go back and forth.”

“We have a guy that we featured in the magazine a year ago that might be able to help you out. He’s an architect and we sort of put his name on the map so he owes us one. I could give him a call for you.”

“You don’t have to do that Rich,” Eddie waved him off.

“Well call it even after that time you stole that comic book from Keenes for me,” Richie mentioned, digging into his pocket for his cell phone.

He texted Bill, requesting the number of Ben Hanscom as well as mentioning he needed an extension on the expośe on Dr. K, going to snap a pic of him on the couch to send to Bill as proof that he wasn’t lazing off.

“You sure you don’t want me to sign that for you?” Eddie asked with a playful smirk, gesturing to the picture of him on the wall.

“Of fuck off,” Richie scoffed as he finished writing the text.

“You could sell it! Make good money out of it,” Eddie suggested with a shrug.

“Okay, keep talking, Eds,” Richie smirked. “But no. It was your first magazine spread and now it has a hell of a lot more value knowing it’s you. My little Eddie Spaghetti.”

Eddie groaned and threw his head back in fake frustration. “Jesus, I was enjoying living without those annoying nicknames of yours, Trashmouth.”

“You know, every time I remember you named your band after me, I get reminded that you owe me royalties. How curious, huh?” Richie teased him with a slight smirk. “No, but really, I wouldn’t sell it for anything.”

“I’m glad you like it. The shoot was a nightmare. I didn’t know what to do with myself.” Eddie admitted with a shrug. “That was when I first got into the whole Dr. K persona and I was trying to work out the kinks of it all.”

“Oooh, Dr. K has kinks, huh? Sexy.”

Eddie hummed, saying no more. “I should probably get going.” He mentioned, at last, making a movement that seemed like he was forcing himself up.

Richie followed him to the door, going to lean against the frame after he opened it. “It’s so surreal, you know? Having you back here.”

He never imagined having Eddie back into his life, let alone having him in his life in the form of his idol.

“Well, I don’t plan on going anywhere,” Eddie told him, that boyish smile and the glimmer in his eyes doing wonderful things to Richie’s heart, stomach, and well, dick.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Richie mentioned, watching as Eddie pulled the baseball cap back onto his head and shoved the sunglasses back onto his face. Back to the disguise to keep him from the people on the street.

Richie didn’t live in a super busy neighborhood, though it was better to be safe than sorry. Richie offered a lame wave as Eddie walked off, leaving him alone in his apartment again.

[punkscowardschampions]

Jimmy & Janis

Jimmy: [a picture of the lil card thingy on the bulletin board or wherever] Jimmy: Oi Jimmy: you still doing that? Janis: Yeah Janis: 10 euro Mon-Fri for a 20 min walk Jimmy: You do longer or what? Janis: Yeah, that's on lunch break but after School hours I can put it on an hour group walk Janis: between 4-10, pick any hour you want Jimmy: Alright Jimmy: depends what shift I'm on Jimmy: don't have to sign in blood or owt, do I? Janis: won't give you a discount if you do Jimmy: gutted Janis: 'course Janis: if you need weekends and all, I can give you a tenner off but that's it Jimmy: might do Jimmy: sounds like you're cheaper than my sister Janis: weird flex Janis: you know dogs like routine, yeah? Jimmy: 🐕 'll be 💔 on your time Janis: when do you want me to start? Jimmy: tomorrow do you? Janis: Fine by me Janis: get me a key cut, [park name] work for you? Jimmy: 👍 Janis: oh, is there anything I need to know about it Janis: actual like it can't be let off the lead, or bullshit like all the 'allergies' it has Jimmy: up to you that, she won't come back if you do Janis: if you're planning on no-showing Janis: or you ain't got a dog Janis: 1. you won't be the first Janis: 2. i will smack the shit out of you Jimmy: 1. love a park, me Jimmy: 2. [a picture of Twix] Janis: 1. i'm not walking you, btw Janis: 2. put a paper with today's date in it so i know it's real Jimmy: 1. 💔 Jimmy: 2. [does and has doodled on the paper like a nerd] Janis: 1. and I don't babysit humans so leave your sister at home as well Janis: 2. 👍 Janis: give a fuck if you've nicked it, long as you've cut the microchip out Jimmy: 1. only 'cause she'd smack the shit outta you, mate, there's another weird flex for you Jimmy: 2. wouldn't nick nowt that looked like that, tah Janis: 1. not my business that you wanna fuck your sister Janis: 2. and i don't nick nothing so you can trust me with your house key 👌 Jimmy: 1. it ain't that grim up north, but alright Jimmy: 2. crack on, nowt worth having any road Janis: anyone with shit to take has cameras all over the gaff, you're alright Jimmy: only got the one in the 🧸's 👀 Jimmy: stay out my little brother's room and you're alright an' all Janis: not the nonce, new boy Jimmy: 💔 for you Janis: euro, not sympathy Janis: take pound, if that's all you got but no credit either Jimmy: lived here long enough to do the change over Jimmy: nowt but the accent sticks Janis: either way, not gonna be on the BBC any time soon with the latest headlines Janis: 💔 Jimmy: hang on, I'll get my 🎻out Jimmy: earn the 💰 while I'm there Janis: give a fuck how you get it, long as you can afford me Jimmy: you ain't that expensive, girl Jimmy: we've done that bit Janis: competitively priced Jimmy: 🏆👏 Janis: definitely not getting paid in applause Janis: we're done here, yeah? Jimmy: What if I'm REALLY good at it? Janis: HIGHLY doubt it Jimmy: whatever you've heard is bollocks Jimmy: can go and on when I get going 👏 Janis: no need to tell me Janis: this is really dragging Jimmy: dry your eyes, mate Janis: what's it called? Jimmy: Twix Janis: 😏 Janis: How sweet Jimmy: funny Janis: not the crappest name I've heard Jimmy: rather it were Jimmy: 🥇 is better than nowt Janis: I fake that I like theirs to their faces Janis: no reason I can't fake the opposite to yours Janis: all part of the service Jimmy: 👍 Janis: you can pay each day or weekly Jimmy: how does every other dickhead do it? Janis: depends on the dickhead Janis: the ones that never wanna see the help just drop bank in my account monthly Janis: most people do weekly though, then you only have to 👀 me once every Janis: unless you're a lonely 👵 or letchy 👴 then get the pleasure of seeing you every single day for a chat, obvs Jimmy: there you go then Jimmy: busted 👴 Janis: Hooray Janis: be easy, give it me at school, right? Jimmy: Long as Mr Lucas ain't about Jimmy: don't need no ideas, him Janis: ugh 🙄 he's one computer sweep away from mysteriously fucking off one day and none of the others having anything to say about it Jimmy: makes nonce look well fit though Jimmy: better hit him up for tips before he goes Janis: you had Janis: busy boy Jimmy: in a bit then Janis: Later Jimmy: [later] Jimmy: if I ain't got a 🔑 for you, that the whole thing off? Janis: just saves time, which is typically why people hire me Janis: but if you're in or can drop the dog to me, don't matter, I guess Jimmy: alright Janis: not have time or not trust us? Jimmy: take your pick Jimmy: well generous like that, me Janis: long as you're paying, give a fuck Janis: you've still got that, yeah? Jimmy: I heard, don't 👏 throw 💰 Janis: that's where the parallels between this and the club end Jimmy: earning it for you now, my dear Jimmy: keep calm and crack on Janis: 💘 Janis: try keep your burns 2nd degree n below Jimmy: spoilsport Janis: fine Janis: just aim the steam thing away from your face Janis: if you get sacked, so do I now Jimmy: disability'll pay Jimmy: be alright Janis: go for your life then, new boy Jimmy: tah Janis: anytime Jimmy: 4-10 Janis: oddly people don't want me taking their dogs in the middle of the night Janis: who'd've thought it Jimmy: bit rude that Jimmy: no trust nowadays 👴 Janis: they just wanna be the ones to murder me Janis: 🙄 Jimmy: whatever floats your ⛵ lads Janis: oh, cheers Jimmy: can't be the only 🐕🗨 about, you Janis: only one you could afford Janis: reason you found the ad Jimmy: I might be a secret millionaire Jimmy: wouldn't be the most bollocks rumour going about Janis: give me more money and I'll spread that one instead Jimmy: piss off Janis: worth a shot Jimmy: miss all them you don't take, girl Janis: they got that on a poster near the maths block, don't they Jimmy: probably Jimmy: got shot right into the bin though, didn't it? Janis: 🗑 Janis: only I'm that good a shot, 2nd attempt, I'll believe Jimmy: still 🎯 Janis: you like 👏 or what Jimmy: don't have to like something to be good at it Jimmy: told you I were Janis: that's about the ☕ init? Jimmy: told you to take your pick an' all so Jimmy: whatever floats your ⛵ lass Janis: not info we need to share for this to still be on Jimmy: be a bit weird if it were Janis: fake 👴 Jimmy: in my day if the 🗨 weren't over a fence it didn't count for nowt Janis: get some 🌳 to lurk in Jimmy: have a row about cutting 'em an' all Jimmy: win win Janis: hot Jimmy: I know Jimmy: 💔 the 🐕 ain't gonna get stuck up a tree but a 😭 story for another day, that Jimmy: I'll save it til you're on the clock Janis: ❌ animal abuse, even casual, cost way more than you got Jimmy: well sure of the contents of my pockets, you Jimmy: can have a full wallet AND be pleased to see you Janis: God Janis: maybe you are 👴 alright, don't need to go that hard to prove it Jimmy: but you're just THAT 🥇 Jimmy: 💕 Janis: yeah yeah Janis: you're on the clock, I get it Janis: ain't a customer though Jimmy: 💔🎻💔 for you Janis: if that's how your chat goes, I'm alright for it Janis: and the shit coffee Jimmy: nowt an overpriced latte can't cure Jimmy: my chat included Janis: wrong twin Jimmy: nah Jimmy: she don't need the hard sell Jimmy: nowt I can do to be rid of her Janis: don't claim her Janis: or her slag behaviour Jimmy: me either Janis: pleased for you, honestly Jimmy: no need to 👏 Jimmy: leave it to the pros Janis: not 👏 for either of you Janis: have to pay you damages if you was part of her body count Janis: cba Jimmy: your apathy is 🤤🤤🤤 Janis: clearly Jimmy: warn us next time Jimmy: trying to keep this professional here Janis: you're doing SO good Janis: 🤤🤤🤤 Jimmy: leave that for the 🐕 Janis: SO weird, new kid Jimmy: been said Janis: bears repeating Jimmy: all 👂 Janis: not now Jimmy: part-timer Janis: I wish Jimmy: you're alright, got Asia in my DMs, bound to be what she's saying Janis: save me the summary Janis: I've heard all 2 thoughts she has already Jimmy: me an' all Jimmy: soz if you reckoned you were special Janis: 💔💔💔 Jimmy: #relatable Janis: she must be telling you why she ain't in today Janis: hair or nails, that's the question Jimmy: hang on Jimmy: 💅 DUH Janis: how else do you show off how little you do with your hands Janis: silly me Jimmy: have a word with yourself, honestly Janis: I would Janis: but you're so chatty, can't get a word in Jimmy: 🤐 Jimmy: there you go Janis: so generous, I heard Jimmy: 👍 Janis: what time you coming today Janis: you not said Jimmy: [a time] Janis: alright Jimmy: can do a bit later if you need Jimmy: but no earlier Janis: can make that time Janis: loads of my usuals are either off to walk their dogs or their kids are so Jimmy: unlucky Janis: yeah Janis: least it's not the only way of making money I got Jimmy: the club, I heard Jimmy: and the theft Jimmy: bet you get written into loads of 👴 wills an' all Janis: those the rumours? Jimmy: just what you said Janis: no bother, if I needed shit spreading, I'd go to your punters well before you Jimmy: would be a good shout Janis: not stupid Jimmy: nor northern 💔🎻😭 Jimmy: can't win 'em all, Judith Janis: says you Jimmy: it were me who typed that yeah Janis: soz, so many 🐶🗨 Jimmy: loads of bitches here an' all Jimmy: funny that Janis: not special, I remember Jimmy: none of us are, mate Janis: deep, barista boy Jimmy: be about right Janis: print that one on the cups or is that an original thought? Jimmy: SUCH a deep cut Janis: nah Janis: we ain't having that much fun Jimmy: no need to tell me, had my 😭 about it Janis: Poor baby Jimmy: loads of them here an' all if you want one Janis: 👶? Jimmy: I get it, you're thinking what'll I do Jimmy: don't worry I'll live, keep a few spare out the back Janis: yes, I'm well concerned about you Jimmy: you heard, no need Janis: can't help being nice, boy Jimmy: it's your blessing and/or curse, Jasmine Jimmy: nowt to do with me Janis: who brings a baby to a coffee shop Jimmy: what kind of question is that? Janis: serious one Janis: what kind of selfish dickhead Jimmy: the kind who'd call themselves a yummy mummy or whatever bollocks else Jimmy: massive group of 'em are having a sesh Janis: ew Janis: least there'll be less in the park Jimmy: tah @ the CG Jimmy: job done Janis: if only you could lock 'em in and turn the gas on Janis: 😍 Jimmy: could Janis: don't be a tease Jimmy: or what? Janis: Something bad must happen Janis: or they wouldn't say it Jimmy: ask Mr Lucas Jimmy: he knows Janis: what doesn't he Janis: galaxy brain to teach R.E. Jimmy: 😍😍😍 Janis: when you go postal, make sure my sister is in there and I'll make it worth your while anyway Jimmy: hot Janis: 'course Jimmy: ain't the rumour Janis: ? Jimmy: 🥶🧊👑 Janis: 🙄 Jimmy: weren't a denial Janis: What's to deny? Janis: the lads that spread that look like 🐁 Janis: not claiming them in a hurry tah Jimmy: you can just say every lad about, it's alright Jimmy: won't dob you in to your paddy ancestors or owt Janis: you said it, not me Jimmy: I did do Janis: you think you're well 😍 then, yeah? Jimmy: don't think about bollocks like that, too #deep Janis: 🤓 Janis: got it Jimmy: leave that one out of the rumour pile Jimmy: just ain't believable Jimmy: *😎 Janis: answered my question there Janis: smug Jimmy: 💔 Janis: 😘 Jimmy: 🥶🧊👑 Janis: 🐁 Jimmy: bollocks Janis: and? Janis: so's that for all you know Jimmy: never said it weren't Janis: you've said it twice, don't need to Jimmy: I've took the piss twice Jimmy: not taken it as gospel Janis: whatever Jimmy: 🙄 Janis: don't need the truth on 😎 or 🥵🔥👑 for this either Janis: just bring the 🐶 when you're done Jimmy: weren't offering it but alright Janis: then I can save you as 🐁🤓 and move on with my day Jimmy: don't need to save me as nowt, my dear Janis: easier than talking to a load of numbers Jimmy: what do we need to talk about? Janis: the 🐶 and the 💰 Jimmy: you'll get both Jimmy: 🗨 done Janis: you're the one who's shifts change, apparently Janis: so you'll need to tell me when Janis: it's no deeper than that Jimmy: @ my manager then, dickhead Janis: I'm being practical Janis: not a mindreader as well as a dogwalker, so you don't need to get aggro, dickhead Jimmy: you're being a dickhead 'cause I said you were 🥶🧊👑 Janis: No need is there Janis: just drop it Jimmy: 👏 Jimmy: peacemaker and 🐕🗨 Janis: Go be a twat somewhere else Jimmy: you wanna get 💰 or what? Jimmy: no tips if you've got a mard on Janis: don't see 🙂 anywhere in my job description Janis: work with animals not basic bitches Jimmy: ain't a massive difference Janis: less 🔊 Jimmy: depends on the 🐕 Jimmy: mine never shuts up Janis: I can wear 🎧 'cos don't need to hear their order Janis: un🍀 Jimmy: I can lip read Jimmy: and our menu ain't that grand Janis: obvs coming back for all your talents Jimmy: it were you who called the coffee shit Jimmy: what else could it be? Janis: dunno Janis: not as if I've ever had any Janis: hoping they were at least partially in it for their caffeine addiction Jimmy: for the #aesthetic Janis: 🙄 Janis: 'course Jimmy: if you need a selfie for your ad the lighting is 🔥🔥🔥 Janis: if ever I wanna put 'em in a phonebox Jimmy: kill off a couple of the 👴💕 Janis: only once I'm in the will, obvs Janis: counterintuitive otherwise Jimmy: duh babes Janis: can you not Jimmy: obvs Janis: then don't Jimmy: 👍 Janis: 🖕 Jimmy: 👌 Janis: 👋 Jimmy: 😘

[violetsmoak]

Pieces of April [10/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Warning(s): Past Jason/Isabel, kidfic, minor canon character death (pretty sure you can guess who), I’ll add more warnings/tags as I think of them.

Canon-Compliance: Takes place in between the two RHATO series, so after Roy and Kori and before Artemis and Bizarro. Jason and Isabel Ardila

First Chapter

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If Tam is uneasy conversing with a legally dead man, she hides it well. She doesn’t ask him how he’s involved in Gotham’s nightlife, and he doesn’t volunteer. Instead, for a few hours, she distracts him with stories of Tim’s more paranoid and dramatic antics, including but not limited to her having the chase him halfway across Europe while he was searching for Batman.

“Of course, I didn’t know that’s what he was doing,” she tells him, sitting cross-legged on the sofa across from the bed. “I thought he was just trying to find himself or whatever rich playboys do when their dad dies. And then I walk into my hotel room one night, and there he is on my bed, dressed in bright red Kevlar and bleeding out next to a woman with a slit throat.”

“Hell of a way to discover your boss is a vigilante,” Jason snorts.

“Well, I already knew there was something weird about him considering all the trouble I went through trying to track him down, but honestly the worst I thought was him owing someone money.”  

“You thought the millionaire wunderkind owed people money?”

“It could happen,” Tam defends herself. “I almost wish it had been that. We have lawyers for that kind of thing. But no, it’s all ‘League of Assassins’ and ‘cults of death’.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m surprised he hasn’t lost more than his spleen.”

That Jason didn’t know.

Of course, it’s not like he peruses the mainframe for an up-to-date list of injuries everyone has. At least, not since he stopped trying to take any of them out. But losing an organ was a hell of a sacrifice to make for the sake of tracking down Bruce.

Hope the old man was grateful at least.

Tam goes on to talk about a ploy by the League to kill all the Bats and their allies (which Jason probably only missed out on due to being in space at the time), which somehow devolves into a rant about Tim’s increasingly extra cold war with Vicki Vale that involved their fake engagement and him spending a year in crutches to prove a point (Jason thinks he remembers Kory pointing that out to him in one of her gossip magazines once), and at last a full-on tirade about lying to her about her father’s death.

“You’re at least gettin' hazard pay, right?” he asks. “It’s not like he can’t afford it.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” she replies with a hard smile that wouldn’t be out of place on one of Gotham’s rogues.

Their conversation finally comes to an end around two o’clock in the morning when Tim returns, hair slicked with sweat and bruises on his face.

“What happened?” Tam asks, getting to her feet. “I thought you said you were only going out to keep an eye on things.”

“I ran into Robin while I was out, and we exchanged certain words. And certain fists.”

“Why?” Jason wants to know, immediately tense at any kind of Bat attention, even if it’s not on him.

“The demon brat wants me back to San Francisco as soon as possible because Gotham’s “his city”,” Tim replies, making air quotes.

“Jesus, the apple really didn’t fall far with that one, did it?”

“I actually think it’s his way of checking up on me. If he intended to hurt me, there’d have been sharp objects involved, or he’d have cut my line while I was in midair again.”

“He did what?”

Damn, Jason’s tried to kill Tim before, but he at least had the stones to do it to his face. That sneaky shit is straight-up League tactics.

“Misunderstanding,” Tim dismisses. “But this is good. If he thinks I’m just staying here to stick it to him, he’s not about to go asking questions or dig deeper. He’ll just take it as a challenge to go out on patrol more and try to one-up me that way.”

“And if he complains to anyone at the manor, they’ll shrug it off as his usual gripin' about you,” Jason catches on.

“Exactly.”

It’s kind of genius, actually.

“And that’s my cue to leave. One of us needs to not fall asleep in the boardroom,” Tam announces, eyes wide and somewhat bemused at their conversation.

She might be in the know, but clearly doesn’t quite understand the dynamic between Tim and the youngest Bat. Jason’s not sure he fully understands it himself. He’d wager it’s something like the way he and Dick were when they were younger, only with more actual attempts at murder.

(And Damian might be a lethal little monster, but Jason knows if Tim one day decides to abandon Bruce’s golden rule and really start trying, the little demon will be taken out before he even knows what hit him.)

“That was once,” Tim is grousing. “And we’d just stopped a secret order of owls from taking over Gotham. I earned that nap.”

Tam gives a groaning sigh—clearly, it’s an old argument—and turns to Jason.

“Don’t look at me, I’m actually on his side for this one,” he shrugs.

Tim blinks. “Really?”

“Don’t make it weird, Drake.”

That night was a pain in the ass. Freeze and an undead owl acrobat at the same time? Not fun.

Tam’s brow furrows.

“I have questions,” she says slowly, “but they can wait. I really do need to sleep.” She digs into her pocket and presses something into Jason’s hand—a business card with her name on it. “If you need anything and Tim’s not around—or if Tim is around but glued to a computer screen or something—give me a call.”

Jason stares at the card, not entirely sure what to say to that.

“See you, Tam. Want me to walk you to your car?”

“I know the way out. Besides, I ordered an Uber, I’m fine. Go shower and get some sleep, mister.”

She leaves.

“Did she just...decide that we’re friends?” Jason asks Tim after she’s left.

The younger man huffs. “I think she’s just happy to find someone who she can complain to about me and my nighttime shenanigans who actually gets it.”

“Yeah, except I get the other side of it.”

“She doesn’t know that.”

Jason shakes his head, shoving the card in his jacket pocket.

Criminally insane villains I get; people are weird.

“So other than bondin' with the kid, what’d you get into tonight?” Jason asks, not really interested but wanting to gloss over the puzzling interaction.

“Murder at a construction site near Newtown,” Tim replies, clearly picking up on Jason’s unease. “Someone called in a tip and the police found a boy encased in concrete.”

“Mob hit?”

“Most likely. And a weighty one. Giancarlo Gazzo’s kid.”

Jason raises his eyebrows. “Shit.”

“Exactly. Could be just the usual competition for contracts, but it’s more likely a prelude to an all-out mob war. It’ll definitely justify me sticking around here for a while.”

“Unless B decides to take over.”

“He won’t. Selina’s in town, so he’s going through one of his trusting periods where he respects us all doing our own thing. I give it another month or so before he starts up with the micromanaging.”

“You have two much faith in him. I give it two weeks.”

Tim looks like he has something he wants to say to that, but chooses not to. Instead, he jerks his head toward the hallway. “I’m going to shower. Do you need anything? I don’t think I said so before, but you can help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”

“Nah. Go take a shower, Bruce 2.0. You stink like grotty socks.”

“I’m sure you smell like a rose at the end of a patrol.”

“And don’t you forget it,” he quips back as Tim leaves.

As soon as he’s gone, Jason’s irreverent façade vanishes and he falls back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling blankly.

What am I doing?

This morning seems so far away, almost like it happened weeks ago. Waking up ignorant of the possibility of having a kid and intending to do nothing more in his near future than get completely shit-faced. Tomorrow (today?) things were supposed to go back to normal, to Jason’s usual routine of patrolling his neighborhood and avoiding people like Tim.

And now he’s staying in Tim’s apartment.

Because in a few days he’s going to bring home his daughter.

His stomach twists again at that thought, still having trouble with the word.

Did Roy ever feel like this?

Sure, he was shocked at the big reveal, but then he threw himself into being a dad. He wanted it. Hell, Bruce had wanted to be a father. He wanted Jason once, had even adopted him after all the crap Jason put him through in the beginning. Having a kid was never a burden to him, even if he’d gotten a lot wrong, and he took to the idea much faster than Jason’s doing now.

Maybe it’s because he had practice with Dick. Or the fact we were all older and not babies. Made it less terrifying.

Though Jason’s not sure he would be any less messed up if it were ten years from now and Isabel was introducing him to a preteen daughter.

Different sort of terrifying, I guess. Even Bruce would be better at adapting to that than me.

And Jason would really like to know why his thoughts keep circling back to Bruce.

“Because he’s your dad, moron,” Roy’s voice echoes in his head. “Now grow a pair and start thinking like an adult.”

Jason privately maintains he’s been having to think like an adult all his life, why can’t he have a day off for once?

An awareness hits him of being watched and he sits up, noticing that Tim has returned and is standing framed in his door. His shower-damp hair hangs past his chin and he’s dressed in a T-shirt and flannel pants, but he still manages to look as stiff and business-like as if he’s about to walk into a meeting. Of course, he always kind of looks like that to Jason, mostly because he can’t recall ever seeing him dressed casually before today.

Or yesterday.

Whatever.

“Can I come in?” Tim asks.

Jason shrugs. “It’s your place.”

“And it’s your room as long as you’re here.”

“Just get your ass in here,” he groans. He’s not sure what’s more annoying: when Tim’s managing him or trying to be considerate.  

The younger man settles on the sofa where Tam was before, brow furrowed like he’s trying to decide what he wants to say. At last, he settles on, “I know you don’t want to, but the sooner we get out in front of this the better. We can’t just keep reacting.”

Jason glares. “It isn’t a PR problem, asswipe, it’s a kid.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed while I was feeding and holding her and you were running away to have a freak-out,” Tim snaps. Before Jason can snarl back at him, he groans and rakes his hand through too-long bangs. Taking a deep breath, he makes a calming gesture. “Sorry. Anyone would be freaking out. The point I’m trying to make is that we need to know what we’re doing so we can plan properly. We can’t just sit here pretending like it’s going to go away.”

“You keep sayin' ‘we’, but the last time I checked, this is all on me.”

“No, it isn’t.” Tim’s borderline frustrated expression softens. “It takes two people, Jason. And it’s just as much on Isabel as on you. It’s sad she died—of course it is—but she also didn’t tell you something that was of vital importance. Especially considering who you are.”

“It’s because of who I am she didn’t tell me,” Jason replies quietly, trying not to show how much the other man’s words caught him off-guard. “And that’s on me.”

“And you say I sound like Bruce,” Tim mutters, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Whatever. Stick a pin in that argument, it’ll keep.” He lowers his hands, staring at Jason with bleary eyes that are trying for serious. “Before we make any kind of arrangements, I need to know: are you absolutely sure you don’t want to keep her?”

“I can’t,” Jason croaks, a sharp pang hitting him in the gut. “I’d ruin her.”

Tim’s mouth thins. “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, but okay.”

“Excuse me if I don’t buy that from the guy whose throat I literally cut.”

“And if you wanted me dead, I would be,” Tim dismisses. “You weren’t exactly you at the time.”

“I was me enough.”

“Would you stop trying to pick a fight with me?” Tim snaps then. “I’m trying to help you. I don’t need reminders of what a colossal asshole you’ve been to me in the past, I was there. This is about a kid. Your kid. And if you’re not going to keep her, then we need to know the best options for her.”

Jason feels a tiny prick of shame at that, but he tells himself it’s only because Roy offered him the same advice earlier.

“You and Safiya both said she was dating,” Tim goes on.

“And apparently it ended badly.”

“We don’t know for sure it ended because Isabel was pregnant,” Tim reasons. “It might have been for some other reason. Maybe we can appeal to the guy’s better nature.”

“You believe in the Tooth-Fairy too?”

“It’s an option.”

“It’s barely an option.”

“Still an avenue we can explore,” Tim insists. “Maybe after we’ve talked to her friends. She’s got to have someone other than Safiya who might take Luisa.” Jason startles a bit at the name, having temporarily forgotten about it. “Assuming you don’t want to keep her in Gotham?”

Jason isn’t entirely sure what he wants. On the one hand, Gotham is a cesspool, his home only because his blood is literally all over this city. There’s nowhere else he can imagine living. But if he’d had a choice? If as a child, his parents packed him in a car and drove him to anywhere the hell else? Things would have been very different.

And on the other hand, every kid deserves to know their parents, in some way. If they can find someone who knew Isabel better than Jason did, she won’t grow up completely separated from the woman who gave birth to her.

Tim appears to take his silence for disagreement because he goes on, “Then there’s adoption, of course. We keep it private, find and vet a family using our parameters—no need to even go through the system if that’s what you want—and it can be open or closed or whatever you want it to be.”

Jason nods mechanically.

“And you realize that to do any of this, you’re going to have to exist? Officially?” Tim points out. “No one asked for your information tonight because I caught them off-guard when I showed up. But that was a one-time thing.”

“Aw, come on, you tryin’ to tell me money doesn’t buy privacy? We both know that ain’t true.”

“Not about this. Not in the eyes of the government. You’re going to need to exist on paper, at least—and it won’t be the basic false identities you’ve been using the past few years,” Tim goes on. “Which is going to cause a whole slew of other problems, because once you’re a legal entity, it’s going to take a hell of a lot to make it go away when this is all over.”

“I’ll just fake my death.”

“Which might just make the wrong people start paying attention—not only to you but the rest of the family. It would be easier if you just stayed alive.”

Jason’s not entirely convinced. “Easier for who?”

“For everyone. The family. You. Even Luisa. What if 20 years from now she develops a hidden genetic condition, or gets into an accident, and you’re the only biological relative she has who can help? Or are you just going to completely wash your hands of her once you hand her off?”

The phrasing grates. “This isn’t me handin' her off. I’m tryin' to make sure she’s got a life, which is somethin' I can’t give her!”

“I’m not criticizing you,” Tim shoots back. “I’m just trying to make a point. Every option has pros and cons. You need to decide which ones you can live with. And which ones will still affect you even when she’s not here anymore.”

Jason folds his arms and scowls, trying to come up with an argument even though he knows the younger man has a point. It would be stupid not to prepare for every eventuality, especially given the way everyone in the Family has had something from their past spring up and bite them in the ass.

But bringing me back to life? It’s not something I ever considered when I got back to Gotham.

Jason Todd-Wayne was dead and would stay dead by his own choice. It was safer for everyone that way, surprise baby included. But then…this could also be a chance for him to start over, even if he didn’t keep her.

And having a name of his own—one that wasn’t tied to the record of a stupid Alley kid that jacked tires, or to Bruce Wayne’s dead son—might be kind of liberating.

And if it offers even a modicum of protection for Isabel’s kid…for his kid…

Jason took a deep breath, ruminating on it a further few seconds, and then nodded. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

Tim blinks as if he had been expecting much more argument than that.

“I’ll get started on that for you tomorrow then,” he says, almost hesitant.

"Great. Now get out of here," Jason snaps. "I've got a few hours of not-sleepin' ahead of me, and I can do that without someone to hold my hand, thanks."

The other man sighs and gets up. "Good night, Jason.

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Your feedback matters! I want to know what you think of my story, so feel free to leave kudos, a comment or as many of these emojis as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels 🤯mind blown 🤬god damn cliffhanger 😫 whyyyyyyy?!?!?

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Next Chapter

[daddywarbats]

I know you’ve kinda hung up the cape and cowl on the Batman fandom, but would you mind contributing your opinion and/or Headcanons on a Old West (with cowboys and all that) Batfam AU?

It’s not so much a hanging up of the cape and cowl, but more of a… shall we say, temporarily placing it aside so I can deal with my chronic illnesses. Fandom takes a lot of energy and I’m just… so tired, all the time, from the meds and pain.

So, enough of that, anyway, OLD WEST AU:

Gotham wasn’t much to speak about - no, if you were to point it out on a map, most people would say “who in their right mind would want to live out there? There ain’t nothing!”

Still some brave industrialists thought the location might be worth something, being halfway between Metropolis and Star. Surely, at least, they could use the local water supply for the trains.

And so, Gotham slowly built itself around the railway, as these towns often did. It was a waystation, unimportant and sort of casually neglected.

…until they found the land held far more valuable treasures.

With the increase in profits, Gotham explodes with growth, good and bad: crime and lawlessness follow the money, after all.

It is generally considered that the Wayne and the Kane families, though rivals, are good to work for. They treat their workers well and they spread their fortunes to better the town.

Other families, like the Maroni, the Sullivans and the Li, are definitely not the kind of people you cross and everyone knows it.

When good Thomas and Martha were gunned down by one of the thugs working for one of those less-that-savory folk, the good people of Gotham were very worried indeed, but young Bruce turns out to be an honor to his parents, if a little eccentric, absent-minded and accident prone.

The Black Bat rides out of the hills, a phantom on a black horse. He does not use a gun, but he quickly establishes a habit of leaving bruised troublemakers on Sheriff Gordon’s doorstop.

Sheriff Gordon is, at first, not amused, but he and his deputies are spread thin as it is and he decides to let the vigilante be. After all, it ain’t like he’s killed anyone, just roughed them up a little.

Dick Grayson is happily part of Haley’s circus. It’s a small circus, traveling the railway from small town to small town. They charge 5 cents for admission.

Pop Haley pays protection money. He is unaware there is Drama™ between Gotham’s shady families.

Dick Grayson finds himself suddenly an orphan. He also finds himself suddenly afoul of the Concerned Citizens™ of Gotham, who are not sure a child should be growing up in a circus anyway.

Enter Bruce Wayne, well-known local eccentric millionaire, who just so happens to kindly offer a home for Dick (and a permanent place for the circus, which is unexpected - they’re not usually treated with such kindness from townies and this does a lot to thaw the ice between Dick and his new guardian because who does that in this day and age - Bruce Wayne, apparently)

Dick then finds the Most Awesome Secret of Local Eccentric Millionaire

The first time Robin is spotted riding with the Black Bat, it’s a surprise to everyone.

Sheriff Gordon would very much like to have words with this Black Bat about bringing a kid into vigilantism, but he’s more concerned about the weirdo maniacs that Local Crime Bosses are bringing in to fight said Black Bat and the fact his daughter wants to be sheriff.

The town has nearly been burned down several times. This is ridiculous. (The Wayne Carpentry Holdings are never out of work.)

Jason Todd is minding his own business when he sees this Awesome Horse. He is small and doesn’t have any money, so you can imagine the kind of stress he’s under.

Jason Todd steals the Bat Horse.

Dick Grayson, bless his heart, will never let Bruce live this down in a million years.

Jason Todd is surprised to find out he is not going to die, be eaten, or hanged for horse theft. He is also surprised to find out he is now no longer homeless and now has a big brother.

Incidentally, the neighbors, the Drakes, have a very lonely son who has noticed some Very Suspicious Goings On. He is a fan of Sherlock Holmes and is determined to investigate.

Cass Cain did not have a happy home with her dad working for nefarious types. When Black Bat defeats her dad, she takes the opportunity to wander off.

Bruce Wayne is apparently fond of picking up stray waifs and giving them homes. He’s apparently got a case of the Dad. Everyone laughs about this, but he’s dad serious.

Jason Todd now has a big brother, a sister, and cousins in the circus and with the Kanes. He is living his best life. He wants to be Robin. Cass wants to be Batman.

Kate Kane watches her cousin Bruce run around in his disguises and is slightly concerned. She is also bored. There is only one thing she can do: be gay and fight crime.

Tim Drake is having the biggest crisis of his young life: Bruce Wayne is the Bat and vigilantism is illegal, but the police need help.

Barbara Gordon, meanwhile, has decided that if she can’t be sheriff because it’s “not a lady’s profession,” then she’s just going to deputize herself into the Bat’s cause.

Sheriff Gordon is honestly so done with all these vigilantes popping up.

Damian Wayne is possibly the biggest surprise to everyone in Gotham and the gossips are busy for weeks, speculating about his origins.

He is certainly a huge surprise to Bruce and family.

Damian is also very surprised to learn that he has two brothers, a sister and cousins. This was not in his briefing.

He immediately falls in love with the circus though.

(Bruce draws the line at learning how to swallow swords. Jason says he’s no fun.)

Kate honestly thinks that her cousin is kind of a mess.

Stephanie Brown catches Tim Drake snooping. This is how she is recruited into Tim’s wild Sherlockian adventure, busts a crime ring, and they both accidentally become vigilantes.

Tim is so stressed that he accidentally outs them both to the Waynes.

Sheriff Gordon is so very tempted to retire. There are just too many vigilantes running around.

The whole town jokes that Bruce Wayne is going to start a home for children. Bruce shrugs and says why not.

The Wayne Home For Children is established under the care of Nurse Leslie Thomas, an old friend of the family. She scolds Bruce constantly about his nightlife.

There are so many vigilantes in Gotham. Their neighbors are concerned, but that’s Gotham™ for you.

So yeah, idk if this is headcanons or basically a lazy fic, but here you go anon, have fun dwelling in this mess I’ve written. xD

[carmenlire]

Off the Record Chapter IV

read chapter one

read on ao3

Looking up at the knock on his office door, Alec raises a brow at this floor’s administrative assistant.

“What’s up?”

Maia steps into his office and it’s then that he notices the garment bag slung over her shoulder. “Special delivery from a courtier downstairs. I was told to give this to you immediately.”

Taking the bag, she hangs it up on a hook on the back of his door. Looking over her shoulder, she adds, “Are you ready for tonight?”

Alec looks back at his computer at his half-finished email to CNN’s publicist informing him of his next assignment that will start in two days. Most of his mind’s still on that whenever he replies, “Of course. It’s a press dinner. I’ve been to a million of these things. It’s a few hours of reviewing the biggest stories of the past year while waiters in white tie serve lukewarm chicken and undercooked carrots.”

He’s rewarded with Maia cracking a smile that’s more of a grin as she dryly offers, “No need to sound so excited, Lightwood. Aren’t you up for an award?”

Leaning back in his chair, Alec nods. “Yeah,” he confirms. “There are a lot of other great journalists covering a lot of important topics too, though. Competition is stiff.” He flashes a self-deprecating grin. “Better to keep my expectations low.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” She jerks her head to the nondescript garment bag. “A Magnus Bane original, though? That’s something worth celebrating.”

Alec doesn’t say anything, merely sends her a blank look. Maia rolls her eyes before shrugging defensively.

“What,” she asks. “I might’ve taken a peak inside. It's very classic for Bane.”

“Iz made an appointment with him. I liked him. He was very professional,” Alec says, almost to himself.

Taking a step or two back until she can lean her shoulder against the door jamb, Maia crosses her arms over her front as she replies, “I’ve heard that he’s pretty no nonsense. Everyone respects him and most fear him, at least a little. Did you know he started his company in high school? He was a millionaire by the time he graduated fashion design school.”

“I didn’t peg you as someone who kept up with that kind of thing.”

Maia shrugs. “What can I say? Bane’s cute and he’s built his empire from nothing. It’s attractive, all that passion and drive. So, I might skim the occasional article about him in People Magazine.”

“We all have our guilty pleasures.”

Glaring at him--though with little heat-- Maia turns on her heel and leaves Alec’s office. Thankful that the interruption is over, Alec turns back to his computer and looks over his proposed itinerary. He’ll be going to China for a few weeks. Part of his assignment is a character profile on the President, Xi Jinping, but he’ll also be reporting about a variety of problems coming out of China, including the Hong Kong protests and their increasing tensions with Russia.

It’s nothing out of the ordinary and Alec feels a familiar tension seep into his shoulders. He loves what he does but goddamn if it isn’t stressful. No matter how many times he puts himself in untenable positions, there’s always a little voice in his head that whispers that this is the last time, this is his last chance.

Still, Alec finds himself preoccupied this afternoon. He has to start getting ready for the awards ceremony in a couple of hours and he’d wanted to get as much work done as possible before then. Instead, he finds his eyes drawn to the garment back hanging on his door.

Telling himself that he’ll just take a peak at the finished product-- make sure that Magnus delivered what he ordered-- Alec stands and tosses the pen he’d been holding in a negligent grip onto his crowded desk. Taking the few steps over to the suit, Alec unzips the bag and takes a cursory look at the clothing.

It’s a lot of black.

Alec laughs a little as he shuts the door and takes the suit out. He sweeps a thumb over the front of the black linen jacket, along the silk stripe down the pant leg. Deciding to make sure it fits alright now instead of fifteen minutes before he’s set to leave, Alec quickly undresses and puts on the suit.

He doesn’t have a mirror in his office but even he can tell that it fits like a dream and must look the same. Extending his arms out, he doesn’t feel the tightness in the shoulders he had during the fitting last week and he’s gratified by his range of motion when he leans over his desk and reaches for the top drawer where he’d stashed his cuff links this morning when he’d first came in to the office.

Sliding the understated gold and silver cuff links into his sleeves, Alec shoots the cuffs, readjusts the jacket.

It’s a wonderful suit, he thinks, and makes a mental note to tell Magnus.

He doesn’t know how he’ll do that but it’s on his to-do list. As Alec snags the belt he’d also brought from home earlier, he replays over the fitting from a week ago.

What a mess he’d been, Alec chides himself. Never hearing about the man before, Alec had pictured a middle-aged designer whose excesses had started to betray him. Instead, he’d been treated to the sight of the most beautiful man he’d ever met. He’d been awestruck and unpardonably rude for it.

Magnus had introduced himself and Alec had reciprocated his easy friendliness for a heartbeat. For two or three seconds, Alec had forgotten himself.

He’d seen an attractive man and been enthralled. It had been just a moment, though, before he’d remembered who he was and what was at stake.

Alec didn’t have the luxury of guileless interest.

Still, Magnus had been everything magnanimous and Alec likes to think that he’d fixed the foot he’d stuffed into his mouth.

Damn but it had been hard to concentrate on the conversation. While he appreciated quality, Alec was mostly unfussy about his wardrobe. Magnus just kept asking questions, though, about formality and bow tie versus open throat and when the designer had thrown his little notebook to the ground in a careless gesture and gone to his knees to fiddle with his pants, Alec had grown alarmingly lightheaded.

Looking over Magnus to see his sister positively grinning hadn’t helped matters.

Lost in thought, Alec’s mouth tips up in a small smile as he thinks about how their fitting had ended. While Alec has no doubt that Magnus was just being polite, ever the friendly businessman, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like to get to know him more.

And not with a business deal hanging over their heads but as acquaintances, maybe even friends.

Reaching into his coat pocket, Alec takes out a business card with edges soft from wear. It’s sturdy white cardstock and with elegant script engraved in bold black font. It’s simple for all its finery and Alec has an insatiable urge to learn more about the man behind the card.

Alec sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. He’s too damn busy to let himself become preoccupied with a man who is certainly not thinking twice about him.

Looking over at a clock, Alec sees he has an hour before he needs to leave for the venue. Deciding not to change, Alec goes back behind his desk. Instead of working, however, he pulls a book from his shelf. It’s an ARC and a promising one at that-- he respected the author and the premise he’d been given sounded intriguing.

It’s the work of a few minutes to put final touches on his look before Maia is buzzing him to let him know his driver is waiting downstairs.

The drive to the Andrew W. Mellon Auditorium is bumper to bumper and he passes the time scrolling through half a dozen news sites.

He’s always on the cutting edge. There’s never really a down moment.

Stepping out of the town car, it’s onto a red carpet that’s been rolled out. There are a few press publications taking pictures and Alec strolls down the carpet, up the handful of stairs. There’s a spot to pose for photos, which he does with grace even if he really rather wouldn’t. Distantly, he recalls Magnus’s coy, “I can’t wait to see how you photograph in my clothes.”

His cheeks heat and he desperately hopes the cameras don’t pick up on it.

The evening progresses much as he’d known it would. The dinner is atrocious, mediocre and not filling in the slightest. It's a little weird to be here without a date, without Lydia in his ear making snide remarks, but Alec powers through and thankfully no one asks about it.

The night is saved, though, when he and his team wins Investigation of the Year for his look into the Assassination of fellow journalist, Jamal Khashoggi. He’s brought up to the stage and talks for a few minutes about freedom of speech and the duty of journalism and how Kashoggi paid the ultimate price for his criticism against Saudi leaders.

As Alec takes his seat again and his eyes catch morosely on a half dozen wilted green beans, he can’t help but wonder if that’s his fate, too.

He plays with fire so often that he wouldn’t know what to do without the heat always licking at his heels.

His thoughts break off from that morbid line of thought when he feels his phone vibrate. Taking it out, unlocking it, Alec opens his texts to see a message from a contact simply labelled J.

Our usual place? I’ve booked room 1406.

Alec stares down at the dim screen of his phone and feels the expression shift on his face, into something anticipatory. Well, he supposes, that settles his plans for the rest of the night.

He’d thought he’d go home to an empty apartment and pour a glass of whiskey while he worked for a few hours. A bit of an insomniac, Alec rarely fell straight to sleep unless travel had exhausted him.

I’m at a work function tonight. I’ll be there at 11?

Alec barely waits half a minute before his phone is vibrating with a reply.

See you then, Lightwood.

Anticipation is a heady mix. While Alec had a strict policy against relationships-- that was a powder keg waiting to happen-- he didn’t have the same issue with casual hookups. There were a few men in a few cities he could rely on for their discretion. Jeremy, in New York, wasn’t out either and last Alec had seen him, had no plans to any time soon. His family was very Catholic-- two of his uncles were priests-- and his mother went to Mass three times a week without fail.

A restaurateur in the East Village, they’d met one night when Alec had joined work friends at his establishment for a retirement party. Now, almost a year later, they met up once or twice a month whenever Alec was in town at the St. Regis.

The rest of the awards pass in dull monotony, though Alec takes note of the Emerging Journalist of the year-- a sophomore at UC Berkeley-- and a few other categories. It’s closer to midnight when his cab pulls up to St. Regis and Alec keeps his head low as he walks past the doorman, not relaxing until he’s in the elevator. Alone, he slouches against the back, raises a hand to tug his tie undone.

He’s unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt and breathes easier for it. Keeping his eye trained on room numbers, Alec finally comes to a stop down the long corridor when he sees 1406 in gold.

Mouth tipping up in an easy grin, Alec leans against the door jamb as he raises an arm, using his knuckles for a careless knock against the door.

He waits just a moment before it’s swinging open. Raising his head, Alec meets Jeremy’s eyes and straightens, stepping into the hotel room without a backwards glance, determined to enjoy these few hours he allows himself.

And later, when Jeremy tentatively offers to take him out some time-- his pick, whenever he’s free-- Alec shuts that down with barely a thought.

“No,” he replies shortly. They’re still breathing harshly from their latest round, staring up at the ceiling and not at each other. “That’s not what we are, Jeremy. What we are is convenience. I’m sure as hell not cut out for a relationship.”

He turns, spares a glance at a man he barely knows but knows just enough. “Are you okay with that? Tell me if you’re not now because I can’t pretend this is something it isn’t. I meet you at a hotel, we fuck, and one of us leaves before the other wakes up. It’s a good system and one I’m not willing to break. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

Alec doesn’t much care one way or another. While it’d be an inconvenience, Alec is firm that he won’t pretend that this is something it’s not.

He’s gratified when Jeremy just sighs and tells him, “You’re a cold son of a bitch, Lightwood. You know that, right,” before he leans over Alec and they both forget about anything as obscene as attachment.

---

Alec wakes up the next morning feeling decidedly gross. His partner is nowhere to be found and when he manages to wake up, he sees all evidence of another person has vanished.

Blowing out a breath, he stays in bed for just a moment more before throwing the sheet away from his body and climbing out of bed.

He makes it home unscathed, heading directly to his shower as soon as he enters his apartment. Scrubbing the night from his skin, Alec feels a hollow sense of satisfaction.

He takes these pieces, sweeps them up into a little pile until he has something resembling enough. It’s far from perfect; the polar opposite from ideal. He couldn’t give a fuck about Jeremy or his other friends. He wasn’t lying.

They really were convenient hookups, ways to blow off steam, release the geyser of stress that’s always roiling just under the surface.

As he reaches for his body wash, Alec’s eyes cool as his mouth downturns. Christ, sometimes he wishes he had more-- that he could have more.

He doesn’t let himself think that too often but once in a while, a thought catches him off guard. Having a relationship, a proper partner.

It’s the antithesis to his life, that much he knows without a doubt.

Still. Alec’s always been more of a romantic than he likes to let on and it’s hard sometimes to see Izzy flirt unabashedly with anyone who catches her eye, with Jace flirting badly with Meliorn whenever the two cross paths at Taki’s.

Resolutely pushing those thoughts away, Alec finishes getting ready. Sliding his watch on, Alec sees he’s just on time to meet his siblings for brunch.

It’s Wednesday morning but both Jace and Izzy had insisted they could go in late. Isabelle, as the senior chemist at Idris Labs, had a pretty flexible schedule. Jace, for his part, owned a food truck and he’d been more than okay with pushing his hours back to see Alec.

Walking into their favorite brunch spot since they were teenagers, Alec sees his siblings already at a table. They perk up when he slides into the booth opposite them.

“Hey, bro,” Jace greets with a grin. “I caught the highlights of that press dinner. Congratulations!”

“Jace says that as if we didn’t watch them live. But, yes, congrats, hermano. We’re so proud of you.”

Shrugging, Alec merely offers, “I only did what was necessary. Koshoggi deserved to be more than front page news for a few weeks and the Saudi regime deserved the microscope I put them under.”

Thankfully, the waitress comes over and grabs their orders, all of which they know by heart so that they don’t even reach for the menus anymore.

Thankful for a breath, Alec looks up, first at Jace and then Isabelle. “So, what’s new with everyone? I feel like I haven’t seen you two in forever.”

“It’s been a week,” Isabelle says with a wry grin.

Nonetheless, they catch each other up on their lives. While they weren’t as close as they’d been before Alec had started travelling for work-- first as a freelance journalist and then signing on full time for CNN-- they liked to keep in touch. As long as Alec was within reach of a phone or laptop, they rarely went more than a few days without talking.

The next hour is a different kind of stress relief for Alec. He listens to Jace talk about his food truck and the cute guy that’s become a regular and listens as Isabelle shares her excitement for her upcoming date. The two of them make plans for dinner and Alec winces as they both look at him expectantly, as though knowing what he’s about to say.

“Actually,” he interjects when both of them have agreed they’re free Sunday night. “I’m leaving tomorrow for three weeks.”

Jace’s mouth tilts up but it’s barely a smile. “What a surprise.”

Stung, Alec snaps, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Isabelle holds out a hand, staving off any argument. “Not today. I’m enjoying my meal and I don’t need you two ruining things. Alec, Jace didn’t mean anything. Jace, you didn’t mean anything by that. Okay?”

Neither Alec nor Jace say anything. They’re staring at each other and Alec’s a little taken aback by Jace’s glare.

A part of him wants to know what the fuck his brother’s problem is but he’s tired and most of his day will be spent with work. Letting it go for now, there’s still an undertone of tension when the bill comes after the three of them have finished their milkshakes.

Jace is the first to leave, citing needing to get to work, and Alec watches him leave, Izzy standing next to him.

“Wanna fill me in on what crawled up his ass since we last saw each other?”

Sighing, Isabelle loops her arm through his and they turn toward uptown where her lab is located. “Not my place,” she says simply.

Her response leaves him more irritated than before he’d asked but Alec bites his tongue, not completely sure that he even wants to open that can of worms.

They walk a few blocks before Isabelle needs to turn and Alec’s path to CNN headquarters takes him straight. She pulls him into a hug before stepping back and putting her hands on his shoulders.

“Be safe and don’t be a hero.” She smiles, just a little, and it’s equal parts resigned and chiding. “I love you, Alec.”

“Love you too, Iz.” Pulling her in for another hug, Alec holds on for a beat or two before finally releasing her and turning his own way.

Afternoon passes into night and Alec catches up on work. He has a dozen balls in the air at any given moment and keeping up with everything is a struggle. He signs off on reports and a few contracts that need final signatures. He makes a guest appearance on all three evening news hours, speaking as a special political commentator and doesn’t get back to his apartment until after midnight.

His flight is slated for five in the morning and Alec has just enough time to pack and make sure everything is in order before he’s being notified that the hired driver is waiting to take him to the airport.

Waiting to board his flight, Alec stops by Starbucks and orders a red eye. It’s strong as hell and exactly what he needs. Finding a seat at his gate, he fucks around on his phone for awhile. He sees a notification in his mentions and when he swipes over, he can’t stop his automatic grin.

It’s a picture from Tuesday’s press gala that a popular tabloid has tweeted. He’s at the photograph station and he knows he looks good. Magnus, however, has quoted that with the addition, “Alec’s wearing a custom Magnus Bane. Doesn’t he look like a million bucks?”

There are a few facetious emojis tagged on at the end and Alec huffs out a laugh as he likes the tweet. Going to Magnus’s profile, his eyes scan over the profile picture that shows him in low light. Scrolling a little, Alec sees Magnus is much more engaged on Twitter than he is and in a moment of weakness, he scrolls back up to the top and taps the follow button.

A little to his surprise, he gets the notification that Magnus has followed him back just a few minutes later. He didn’t think Magnus would be such an early riser, especially considering it’s not even light outside yet.

Alec doesn’t let his mind wander long, though, before he’s turning back to work. He spends what little remaining time he has before boarding begins to read over his notes. He continues that during most of his flight. Managing a few hours sleep, Alec still feels like death warmed over whenever he lands in China.

He has his credentials and passes ready and most of that first day is spent filling out forms with the Chinese government.

This assignment isn’t the longest he’s been on by far. Still, the three weeks seem to fly and drag by at the same time. He meets dozens of officials and uses what little free time he’s allowed to get a feel for the city and interview people on the fringes of his interest piece.

Every night he comes back to his hotel and types up his notes. Still, not all of his time is spent on China. He still has articles due for different newspapers back in the States and he spends a few hours every day keeping on top of things back home.

By the time his assignment is over-- he has all the information he’s going to get, his televised interview with Xi Jinping has been filmed-- Alec’s exhausted.

It’s an exhaustion that runs bone deep and when his car takes him back to the Hong Kong airport, Alec wants nothing more than a shower and his own goddamn bed.

The flight is uneventful and Alec surprises himself by choosing to read a book-- for pleasure even. The flight is uncomfortable no matter that he’s in business class and the first thing he does when he lands back in New York is call headquarters and get updated on what he’s missed and expectations for the next few days.

Thankfully, Jia tells him in no uncertain terms to take a day or two before he shows his face at work and Alec laughs and agrees. She usually insists that he take a bit of a break with longer assignments and luckily, it’s never more than two days.

She doesn’t know he always has work at home and Alec has no intention of telling her.

Most of the first day is spent faceplanted in his bed after the world’s most efficient shower.

The second day, though, Alec decides to pack up his laptop and notes for the book he’s been working on for the past six months. The publisher wanted a tentative first draft by the end of summer and with only four or five months left, Alec was woefully short.

It was a a treatise about America’s current political climate with personal anecdotes thrown in. Alec was slogging through it but it was dense as hell and he had enough research to make a Ph.D candidate wince.

Walking into his favorite little coffee shop in Brooklyn-- he’d discovered it during college and had been a regular ever since-- Alec settles in. Spreading his notes out, he focuses on work.

He works steadily, wrapping up the current chapter he’d been working on when he suddenly feels eyes on him. Sighing a little-- it happened from time to time even at the most inopportune times-- Alec looks up and freezes.

His chest squeezes a little as his gaze meets warm brown eyes.

“Magnus,” he says under his breath, too low for anyone to hear.

Magnus’s mouth kicks up like he heard Alec after all and then he’s grabbing his drink from the barista and making his way over to him.

“Alexander. Fancy meeting you here.”

Nodding toward his sprawled out pile of work, Alec replies, “I just flew back into the city last night. I thought I’d get some work done in a setting that’s a little more casual than the office.”

Blowing across the top of his drink to cool it, Magnus eyes the pile. “What are you working on?”

“A book, if you can believe that. Something political and dire as befitting the current administration.”

Magnus rolls his eyes before grinning. “I can’t wait to read it. I’m sure you’ll do justice to the topic.”

“I’m trying,” Alec says as he jerks a shoulder in a semblance of a shrug. “What are you doing here?”

Magnus’s expression is amused as he nods outside the shop. “This is the closest coffee shop to my apartment. I come in here almost every day. I’ve never seen you here before, though.”

“I found this place in college and have been coming ever since. I don’t come here as often as I might like but when I’m in the city, it’s at least once a week.”

“What a coincidence,” Magnus murmurs before perking up. “You mentioned you just flew back in last night. Were you somewhere devastatingly exotic?”

“China,” Alec replies dryly. “It was painfully mundane.”

Looking intrigued, Alec watches as Magnus hesitates for a bare moment before he gestures toward the chair across from him. Before he can ask, Alec is already waving him toward the empty seat. “Please, sit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you stand forever.”

“Thank you, darling.” Magnus shoots him a smile before taking a seat. It’s oddly graceful, elegant for such an everyday gesture.

“Now,” Magnus says briskly, crossing one leg over the other and staring at Alec with something indefinable in his eye. “How was China, as you put it, painfully mundane?”

Relaxing in his seat, Alec’s look is wry as he says, “It was work, Magnus. I spent an overwhelming majority of my time trying to get the truth from people determined not to give me any. It was exhausting. I have some great content that will start to drop in a few days but these trips are hardly ever pleasure for me.”

“Don’t say you’re a workaholic now. That ruins a fair bit of the image I had of you in my head-- you know what they say about all work and no play, Alexander.”

“My job is demanding,” Alec replies with a short laugh. “Sorry to spoil things, but any image you have of me is probably categorically false. As Isabelle’s always telling me, I’m a bit of a dud.”

Raising a brow, Magnus repeats, “A dud? Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

“I’m focused on my career. As it happens, that career is more high-octane than most. It doesn’t leave a lot of room for anything else.”

“More’s the pity,” Magnus says softly and Alec’s suddenly uncomfortably when he turns sharp eyes to him.

It’s like he sees everything Alec tries to hide, everything he doesn’t say.

And then Magnus is brightening. “Are you one of those people who become horribly distracted if anyone so much breathes in their direction while working?”

Alec sets a deadpan look over Magnus. “I’m a journalist. I can pretty much work through anything. Why?”

“Well,” Magnus draws out and Alec mostly thinks he imagines the tentative look in his eye. “I have a few hours before I have to be in my office but I have some work I could get done before going in. I was thinking a change of scenery might help me too, if you’re willing.”

It takes Alec a moment to understand what he’s trying to say but then he grins when he does, a small, pleased little thing. “Feel free,” he says and shoves some of his stuff away from what’s officially Magnus’s side of the table.

Magnus returns that smile before reaching down to his bag and pulling out a sheaf of papers.

And no matter what Alec might’ve said just a few moments before, he’s definitely distracted as he also pulls out a pair of black framed glasses, slipping them on absently while organizing his little pile of paper.

When he looks up and catches his eye, Magnus is sheepish. “I hate the things,” he says, pointing to the glasses. “But I need them, so. I know it doesn’t exactly fit my own dashing reputation.”

“I like them.” Alec’s reply is out of his mouth before he can think and while he feels heat climb into his cheeks, he’s rewarded by a pleased if surprised smile from Magnus. Swallowing hard, he adds, “They suit you.”

“Thank you, darling.” A teasing light comes into Magnus’s eyes as he continues, “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Alec doesn’t know how to respond to that without getting embarrassingly tongue tied, so he just looks down at his laptop and reads the same sentence seven times without comprehending it.

It’s absurd but Alec is quickly growing familiar with the way Magnus is proving the exception to his most ironclad rules. He’s met people all of the world from all different backgrounds and he rarely has a problem engaging them in conversation. It’s part of his job and one that he’s good at even if those closest to him would be a little surprised to learn just how competent he is at socializing.

In his line of work, that particular skill set is crucial to forming ties and establishing trust.

With Magnus, however, that all goes out the window. The man makes an innocuous enough comment and Alec finds himself tongue-tied. A part of him wishes desperately that he could flirt back but he can’t-- that wouldn’t be fair to either of them-- not to mention that it would be just a little presumptuous.

Alec has a sinking suspicion that Magnus is friendly with everyone. What a faux pas would if be if Alec read more into things.

He shudders at just the thought.

Magnus doesn’t say anything else and Alec manages to turn his focus back to his work. To his surprise, Magnus is an acceptable work partner. He doesn’t click his pen, doesn’t have a need too fill the silence that’s fallen over their little corner of the coffee shop. He scans through documents, signing every so often, and every time Alec looks up, Magnus appears deep in thought. He has the endearing habit of bringing his pen up to his mouth to chew absently on the cap and it’s a little tick that Alec wouldn’t have suspected but enjoys nonetheless.

He’s startled, then, when he’s ass deep in research for a particular law he wants to use-- he needs to get a deep understanding of it before he can even begin explaining what it means and why it’s important-- when Magnus bites back a curse.

He looks up to meet Magnus’s incredulous gaze.

“I’m sorry, but it looks like I’m running late for my afternoon meeting. I hadn’t even realized so much time had passed.”

Looking down at the corner of his laptop, Alec’s brows raise as he sees they’ve been sitting together for over four hours.

“We should’ve set an alarm,” he says with a stunned smile.

Gathering his work, Magnus packs up his things as he returns Alec’s expression. “Yes, that would’ve been good thinking. I didn’t anticipate getting so distracted,” he admits.

“You’re easy to share a table with.”

“Thank you, Alexander. I’m glad I wasn’t a nuisance.” Magnus laughs and a part of Alec leans into the sound, no matter that he stays in place.

Magnus stands, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He takes a single step backward, toward the front door. “How long are you in town for this time around?”

Pausing to think, Alec finally offers, “As long as nothing crops up, I’m in New York for at least a few months. Most of my time needs to be spent working on this damned thing,” he says, nodding toward the evidence of his writing.

“Maybe I’ll see you around then. Bye, darling.”

Alec nods in acknowledgement and watches as Magnus turns on his heel and strides out of the little coffee shop, looking too big for the place, his presence too striking for a regular little coffee shop.

Blowing out a breath, Alec wonders if he’ll see Magnus again and if so, when. Most of him hopes he does and soon.

There’s a little piece, though, that he tries to tamp down on that whispers maybe it’s best if they don’t see each other again.

Something tells him that Magnus is different to everyone else, even if it's in ways he can't quite definite yet.

Shaking his head impatiently, Alec pushes any and all thoughts of Magnus Bane out of his head. The truth is, they probably won’t see each other again for months, if that.

He has bigger things to worry about than an interesting fashion designer who pulls off glasses like he was born for them.

---

Except the next morning, Alec comes back to the little Brooklyn coffee shop and almost immediately, his gaze lands on Magnus.

Magnus, who looks up with a smile that only grows when he sees the book bag over Alec’s shoulder.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he says, just like he had yesterday and Alec laughs, a quick burst, while he tries to recover.

“What are you doing here?” It could come off as rude, short, but Alec’s already nearing the table and bringing his bag down to rest on the floor against the chair that sits across from Magnus.

Magnus shrugs. “I have work to get through and I can do that just as easily here as I can in my office. My office doesn’t have such a view, after all,” he says with a little grin that reads just as coy as it is hesitant.

Alec doesn’t linger over the words. Peering at the table, Alec nods toward the half that has stuff on it; the other half of the table is perfectly cleared off. “Is this seat taken?”

“Yes, by you, darling.” Magnus beams at him and gestures grandly for Alec to take the seat opposite him.

Getting settled in, Alec pops up a few minutes later to order a coffee for himself as well as a refill for Magnus. The morning passes much like the past afternoon had. They both work on their own things but together and it’s odd but it fills Alec with a buzzing energy that itches just under his skin.

He likes the quiet and while he’s loathe to admit something so whimsical-- even to himself-- he likes the quiet with Magnus even more.

They don’t talk much that day, both focused on their work. Alec’s the one that has to leave first that day, off to the studio to shoot a debate between two political leaders of different parties. Magnus nods in acknowledgement, wishes him a productive afternoon, but nothing else.

So it’s pure coincidence when Alec goes right back to the little coffee shop the next morning and sees Magnus for the third day in a row.

It becomes a thing after that-- or really, Alec thinks, since the very beginning. And while the first week or so is filled with comfortable silence and the sounds of typing, the dull thrum of everyone else in the coffee shop nice in the background, Magnus and Alec rarely talk.

They both seem to want to preserve the spell that’s fallen over them but then one day Magnus is obviously distracted. He fidgets with his papers and Alec feels his eyes on him every four seconds it seems until finally, exasperated and fond-- too fond for the duration of their acquaintance, that’s for sure-- Alec looks up and meets Magnus’s eyes.

“What’s with you today?”

Magnus stills and then launches into a rambling rant about best friends who think they know best but really don’t know jack shit. Alec surprises himself when he bursts out laughing when he learns that Magnus’s best friend, Ragnor, has been surprising him with a different treat every day in the hopes that he’ll take the hint and take a break from things.

“He’s gotten me a gift card to a bookstore, a wine box subscription, and he’s started leaving little hints all over the office for me to take a vacation. There are little palm trees on the kitchen counter and Clary has started talking about the weather in a different tropical locale every day for the past two weeks. The man is driving me insane, Alexander.”

Shaking his head a little, the mood lightens considerably over their table as they both abandon any semblance of work. Instead, they order more coffee and talk.

They get to know each other a little better, piece by piece. Alec learns about Ragnor and Raphael and Catarina and he takes his own turn to talk about his siblings and how they drive him crazy but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

After that day, something shifts in their budding friendship. They spend a few minutes every day catching up with the other and it often devolves entirely into meandering conversations that poke and prod at what seems to be laying just under the surface.

There are some topics Alec doesn’t broach and Magnus gently hints before backing away entirely once he realizes the off-limit subjects-- the confidential aspects of his job, his dating history. Though Alec talks a little bit about Lydia-- by all accounts they were together since college-- he’s strangely reticent to share as much as he might’ve with anyone else.

He doesn’t want to lie to Magnus. Not about Lydia and not about what Lydia helped hide.

It’s a month later and Magnus and Alec have seen each other almost every day since that first afternoon at the coffee shop. Alec is dreadfully behind in his projected timeline to complete his book but he finds that he can’t care overmuch, not when he’s having so much fun getting to know Magnus.

He doesn’t look the man up, doesn’t want to learn about the famous designer before either of them are ready. He takes what Magnus shares and becomes just a little more infatuated every day.

He can’t tell if Magnus feels the same, one iota of what Alec’s feeling. It’s all a moot point anyway, he tells himself but. Still. He wonders if it’s as one sided as it seems or if-- in another world, another life-- there could be something more there.

Everything is going well until Alec gets the call from CNN’s headquarters that he’ll be leaving the next afternoon for his next assignment.

He takes the call and as he listens to the proposal, a part of him feels the familiar rush of adrenaline. There’s another part, though, that’s full of the tiniest bit of disappointment.

Four months.

It’s still not the longest assignment he’s been on. Not by far. But his mind skips to Magnus and their routine and even as he agrees immediately to his assignment, he’s dreading telling Magnus.

Magnus, who’s become an unwitting friend over the past month.

When they meet at the coffee shop just a couple of hours later, Magnus takes one look at him and immediately asks, “What’s wrong?”

Alec smiles, just a little, at Magnus reading him so well. It dies on his lips though as he opens his mouth to reply before getting out, “I got my next assignment. I leave tomorrow.”

He watches as Magnus’s smile dims, as he settles back in his seat as he absorbs the news. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

It’s silent for a minute before Magnus looks up and smiles wanly. “How long?”

Wincing, Alec replies, “Four months. Depending on how it all unfolds, though, it could be extended.”

“Well,” Magnus says and it’s clear that it’s trying to be bright but fails spectacularly, “Do you have plans for tonight?”

Alec blinks. “Plans? Tonight?”

Something thaws in Magnus’s expression as he watches Alec’s confusion. “Yes, darling, tonight. If you’re going to be away for half a year, I’d like to see you one more time before you go. If you’re amenable, we could have dinner together.”

“That sounds great, Magnus.” Alec’s voice is soft, just above a whisper.

Magnus’s gaze warms even further at Alec’s easy acquiescence. “Wonderful. I’ll make the arrangements and text you the address-- Oh, we would need to exchange numbers for that, I suppose.”

It takes Alec a spare second to realize that the two of them haven’t even exchanged numbers yet. By tacit agreement, they both had just shown up to the coffee shop ever morning, letting the other know they day before if there would be a change.

“Yeah,” Alec breathes. “Let’s do that.”

The two of them exchange numbers and it’s such a small gesture but it lights Alec up. Though, he tries his damnedest to hide just how effected he is by having Magnus’s cell number.

The two of them don’t even try to turn back to their work after that. They spend the rest of the morning talking and there’s a new energy lingering in the undertones of their conversation. It’s almost frenetic, an impending knowledge that they only have this last day before they’ll be apart for the foreseeable future.

Magnus leaves in the early afternoon after half a dozen progressively more annoyed texts from Ragnor. He leaves with a promise to make the arrangements-- something private, away from prying eyes-- and leaves with his customary flourish.

Alec watches him leave and wonders how he’ll survive dinner with the growing acknowledgement that he’s falling for Magnus and the knowledge that there’s not a damn thing he can do about it.