#actually i should just make a brand new au for her to woo him in LOL or just contrive some more situations in k2

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph! reading your blog has become a sort of guilty pleasure for me. Thanks for everything, it’s so clear that you put a lot of time and energy into your content. I was wondering if you have any johnlock fics that feature a particularly well-written or memorable original character? I always love to see how authors integrate their own character creations into johnlock stories!

Hey Nonny!

Ahhhh!! This is a GREAT request, because I like well-written OC’s in fics, so yeah, this is a great list to make. Here’s what I recall from my bookmarks. Please add your own faves, friends!

MEMORABLE ORIGINAL CHARACTERS

Ex by Itsallfine (T, 1,248 w., 1 Ch. || Angsty Fluff, Love Confessions, Coming Out, Exes, First Kiss, Fake Relationship, Getting Outed) – One night, in the midst of their post-case high and on the cusp of something more, John and Sherlock run into John’s ex. His ex-boyfriend.

The Prize We Sought Is Won by deathfrisbees (E, 4,610 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Mild D/S, Oral, Military Kink, Bottomlock) – Sherlock's in love, or in lust, or both--unfortunately, the object of his affections is not only his completely oblivious flatmate, but said flatmate would probably run screaming into the hills should he find out. John's been invited to a wedding--unfortunately, the groom used to serve under him back in Afghanistan, and requests that John wear a uniform he's honestly not sure he fits into. Unfortunately for both flatmates, Sherlock's got a military kink the size of Kandahar and John wants to know if he actually can fit into this uniform or if his eyes are deceiving him. It goes from there.

Time on my hands by Mildredandbobbin (M, 7,179 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-S3, One Night Stands, Mutual Pining, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Sexual Exploration / Discovery, Desperation, Body Worship) – Virginity’s a construct, a concept—what does losing one’s virginity entail for a gay man anyway? Sherlock wants to fill that particular gap in his knowledge but John won’t, can’t, never will assist and there’s only so much desperately unspoken pining even Sherlock can take.

High and Tight, Soft and Loose by cwb (E, 7,429 w., 1 Ch. || Jealous John, Miscommunications / Misunderstandings, First Kiss / Time, BAMF John, Insecure Sherlock, Clueless Sherlock, POV John, Embarrassed John, Adorable Sherlock, Junk Size, UST / RST) – John pressed the knuckle of his index finger against his mouth and sighed. “So, you're coiled like a spring and ready to be ... sprung?” “If you want to be pedestrian about it, yes.” “Like I said, you should do something about that.” “And like I said, pedestrian. What would you have me do? Take up jogging? Yoga? Oh! Unless you mean –” “I don't mean anything. Let’s drop it.”

Matters of National Security by mistyzeo (E, 8,465 w., 1 Ch. || BAMF John, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Dating, Bisexuality, Arguing, Stupidity, Teasing, First Kiss/Time, Hand Jobs, Frottage, RST, Idiots in Love) – John starts dating a male client of Sherlock's, and Sherlock can't figure out why he's so incensed about it.

High Tide by stardust_made (T, 8,540 w., 1 Ch. || Jealousy, Angst, First Kiss) – A little favour Sherlock stupidly agrees to do for Mycroft leads to John meeting a handsome, affluent man, who is going out of his way to woo him. Sherlock struggles with the situation and with his own reactions to it. Part 1 of The High Tide Series

Iris by slashscribe (E, 11,948 w., 1 Ch. || Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Post-S3) – Sherlock does his best to make John happy when John comes back to 221B with his new baby after the events of Season 3, but Sherlock has a track record of getting things wrong in this area. This story is an exploration of their gradual shift from friends to lovers, told from Sherlock's perspective, full of a lot of pining and lack of emotional awareness.

A Brand of Gold by aquabelacqua (M, 12,757 w., 1 Ch. || Mutual Pining, POV John, Phone Sex, Texting, Masturbation, Long Distance, Drunk Texting) – What am I doing? he wondered. The answer came back at once: Flirting. He let the vital, missing piece snap into place as surely and as cleanly as if it had always been there. He was flirting with Sherlock Holmes.

Twelfth Night by yourdykeinshiningarmor (E, 15,139 w., 5 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Christmas, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Angst & Fluff, BJ’s, Anal) – John is invited to his aunt's Twelfth Night ball. Sherlock offers to attend with him as a friendly face among strangers, but John's family force him to address his true feelings for Sherlock.

Vessel by Rhuia (E, 15,695 w., 1 Ch. || Cancer, Medfic) – That was the surprising bit – the way his doctor said it, eyes shining with sympathy but breathing it out, shifting it off her shoulders and thrusting it onto his, making him take it like an unwanted gift.

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (E, 20,121 w., 1 Ch. || Original Male Character, Sherlock Woos John, Jealous Sherlock, Reluctant Bi-John, Past Abuse, Insecure John, Reassuring / Caring Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Understanding Sherlock) – John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.

Winter's Delights by Kate_Lear (E, 21,173 w., 1 Ch. || Holmes Family, Christmas, Fake Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Bed Sharing, Domestics) – Sherlock takes John home for Christmas to meet the extended Holmes family. Part 1 of Winter's Delights

A Shipless Ocean by myswordfishmind (M, 22,135 w., 4 Ch. || Post-TRF, John has a Kid, Angst, Reunion, Falling in Love, Open Ending) – Ten years after the fall Sherlock goes back to London to find that John no longer lives there. Instead, he resides in a seaside town, a widower, and the father of a seven year old son. Now, Sherlock must struggle with the fact that there may no longer be a place for him in this new world.

Maintaining A Personal Life by Gingerhermit (E, 24,284 w., 6 Ch. || Alternating POV’s, Bisexuality, BAMF!John, Jealous Sherlock, Romance / Drama, Sort-of Case Fic, Peril & Angst, Love Confessions, Toplock, Soft Idiots in Love, Post S3) – Sherlock and John discover some interesting revelations about each other’s sexuality, which lead them both to question the assumptions they've made about one another for years. In the midst of their mutual discoveries, a dangerous psychopath looms on the side-lines who threatens to destroy their new beginning.

26 Pieces by Lanning (E, 28,236 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Torture, First Time, Happy Ending, Schmoop, Past Abuse) – Mycroft gives Sherlock the apparently simple task of solving a puzzle box containing a stolen microchip. It isn't simple.

Where Else Would I Be? by cwb (E, 34,910 w., 10 Ch. || Retirementlock, Domestic Fluff, Falling in Love, Parentlock, Fluff and Smut, Reminiscing) – John and Sherlock's five-year-old granddaughter spends the weekend with them in Sussex. Sherlock happily indulges her whims, and John takes care of them while quietly revisiting the past thirty years of their lives together.

Classified(s) by blueink3 (E, 36,153 w., 4 Ch. || Wedding Date AU || Fake Relationship, Jealous, PIning, H/C, Idiots in Love, Happy Ending, Mary is not Nice, Escort Service) – Clara's American father is the ambassador to some such territory that Great Britain probably used to own, but she (and Harry’s undying love for her) is the reason John is getting on a flight at 12:30pm, flying across the second largest ocean in the world, and pretending to be in a perfectly happy, healthy relationship with an undoubtedly perfectly coiffed stranger. See, Clara is not only American (and wealthy to boot), she's also best friends with John’s ex-fiancée. Whom she's placed in the wedding party. As Maid of Honor. And John just happens to be Best Man. Bloody brilliant.

Nothing to Make a Song About by emmagrant01 (E, 36,833 w., 10 Ch. || Post-TRF, First Time, Reunion, Jealous John, Pining Sherlock, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, Sherlock Has a Boyfriend) – When Sherlock returned from his faked death, John could not forgive him for the deception and broke off their friendship. Ten years later, John returns to London in search of yet another new beginning. Sherlock, not surprisingly, is waiting.

Set in Stone by SilentAuror (E, 39,309 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Wedding, Therapy, Fluff and Angst) – Sherlock and John are back from Ravine Valley and planning their wedding. However, as they move past the trial of the human traffickers, Sherlock can't help but wonder if he's imagining that John is becoming a little distant. Surely he isn't getting cold feet about the wedding... Part 2 of The Ravine Valley series

Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst, Promise of Forever) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

Corpus Hominis by mycapeisplaid (E, 47,709 w., 12 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Case Fic, Fluff, Romance, Frottage, Angst, Anal, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Spas / Massages, Shampoo, Jealousy, Fake Relationship) - John knows the human body intimately. He’s had plenty of opportunity for study as a doctor, soldier, and lover. There’s one particular body, however, he knows very little about. When Sherlock launches himself head-first into a new obsession and they get sent on a case in an unlikely location, the pair discovers each other’s bodies with confusing yet delightful (and sometimes hilarious) results.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Coventry by standbygo (E, 52,020 w., 26 Ch. || Dollhouse AU || Case Fic, Slow Burn, Sci-Fi / Fantasy, First Kiss / Time, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF John, Falling in Love) – “Let me get this straight,” John said, wondering when his life had become a science fiction film. “Some guy orders up a personality, a person, to his specifications, and they program this into a real live person, who has consented to do this, and she goes to this person and acts as his wife, or lawyer, or Royal Marine, or Navy Seal or what have you, and she has all the skills, all the knowledge, everything? Then you say the magic words, and she follows you back to The House, and they erase it all until her next appointment?”

Albion and the Woodsman by Glenmore (NR [E], 54,437 w., 50 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post S3, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst, Family, Drug Use, Depression, Sherlock POV, Light Humour, Reconnecting, Declarations of Love) – Sherlock and John are devastated after Mary Morstan makes her final moves. Sherlock relapses at the crack house, John walks around the world … and a lot happens in between. Parentlock, in the good way.

Wars We Fought, Things We're Not by blueink3 (M, 55,204 w., 10 Ch. || Post S3 / Post TAB, Parentlock, Fluff & Angst, Kidnapping, Whump, Post-TAB, UST/URT, 3G, Mild Peril, Slow Burn, Couple for a Case, Protective Mycroft, Infant Death Pre-Story, Friends to Lovers) –  Five months after John's world has fallen apart, Mycroft sends the consulting detective and his doctor on a case that neither is prepared for.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

The Great Sex Olympics of 221B by XistentialAngst (E, 58,611 w., 10 Ch. || First Time/Kiss, Experiments / Sexual Experimentations, Multi Pairings, Voyeurism) – John Watson thinks Sherlock Holmes should admit that he, Watson, is more of an expert on sex than Sherlock is. But Sherlock refuses to concede the point. He comes up with an experiment plan that will resolve the issue. The results will determine who wins the prize. But sometimes even the best thought-out scientific study has unexpected consequences.

Bridging the Ravine by SilentAuror (E, 58,887 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Couple For a Case, Bed-Sharing, First Times, Confessions, Awkwardness, Sex Trafficking, Massages, Wet T-Shirt Contest, Group Therapy, Past Loss of Child) – Sherlock and John go undercover at Ravine Valley, a therapy centre for same-sex male couples in an investigation into a possible human trafficking ring. As they pose as a couple and fake their way through the therapy sessions for the sake of the case, it quickly becomes difficult to avoid discussing their very real issues. Set roughly six nine months after series 4.

The Bells of King's College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst with Happy Ending, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays, Virgin Sherlock, Wedding Proposals) – It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...

Summit Fever by J_Baillier (M, 78,802 w., 18 Ch. || Mountain Climber AU || POV John, Angst, Tragedy, Suicidal Ideation, The Himalayas, Mountain Guide / Doctor John, Mount Climber Sherlock, Loneliness, Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Injured Sherlock / Sherlock Whump, Pining John) – After graduating from medical school, John Watson followed his heart to the Himalayas. Ten years later, he's a haunted cynic working for his ex-lover's trekking and mountaineering company. Will leading an expedition to Annapurna I—the most lethal of all the world's highest mountains—shake John out of his reverie, and who is the mystery client added to the group at the last minute?

Secrets and Revelations by Hisstah (E, 83,535 w., 9 Ch. || Sentinel / Guides Omegaverse AU || Adventure, Violence, Anal / Oral, Omega!John / Alpha!Sherlock, Case Fic, Politics, Mild DubCon) – Dr John Watson has some major secrets that he's kept from his flatmate, Alpha Sentinel Sherlock Holmes. Now the Sentinel Tower is after him. Can John stay out of their hands until he can reveal his secrets to Sherlock? Part 1 of Secrets and Revelations

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater /  Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

Maintenance and Repair by patternofdefiance (E, 106,650 w., 71 Ch. || Future AU, Augmentation || Augmented John, Depression, Body Modification, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Sci-Fi, Self-Care, Body Dysmorphia) – John wants to explain the rush of sensation and data, which is just another form of sensation (or is it the other way around?). John wants to say: Augmentation circuits report temperature, pressure, various forms of quantitative input. Sudden changes are reported as pain, since sudden changes are dangerous, and pain is the quickest way to encourage reflexive extraction. But all John can manage is, “Nng.” Because this sudden touch is not reporting as pain. Part 2 of STATIC

The Burning Heart by May_Shepard (M, 119,150 w., 21 Ch. || Canon Divergence, Post-TRF, John’s Sexuality, S3 Rewrite, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV John Watson, John’s Gay) – When Sherlock dies, John Watson feels like his life is over too. He’s completely shut down, until Mark Morstan, a new nurse at John’s medical clinic, catches his attention, and helps him uncover the long buried truth of his attraction to men. Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own.

The Swan Triad Series by Pennin_Ink (T, 121,660 w. across 3 works || Swan Lake AU || Magical / Fairy Tale AU, Romance, Falling in Love, Pining, Psychological Torture, Transformation) – Sherlock and John grow up spending every summer together. Their mothers' attempts to play matchmaker only fuel their mutual resentment and scorn. But then, one summer.

Colors by Quesarasara (E, 140,537 w., 17 Ch. || Pleasantville-Inspired AU || Soulmates, Colour Bonds, Alternating POV, Angst, Fluff, Pining, Case Fic, Medical Procedures) – Everyone on earth is born with eyes that see in black, white, and an endless series of greys. When you meet your soulmate, you finally see the world in color. We're all searching for the person who brings color to our lives. John and Sherlock are no exception. Part 1 of The Colors 'Verse

The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton  (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending) – Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own. (SC’s version of Sherrinford may as well be an OC; he’s well written and different from Canon)

Sketchy by serpentynka (E, 184,053 w., 83 Ch. || Post-TRF, Post-Mary, John Whump, Slow Burn Love Story, Case Fic, Art, Porn With Feelings, Switchlock, Travelling, Career Change, Family Secrets, Illness / Health) – What (and who) will be left when nobody cares about your Work? A slow-burn fic with cases, places, mistaken identities, unfair choices, essential changes, violent feels, blatant lies, fearless portraiture, family secrets, high-risk bespoke gifts, durable friendships, bedtime stories, foreign travel and tongues, sickness (and health), and the significance of things which are slow to unfurl -- but cannot be ignored. Oh, and...porn. Part 1: Sherlock takes on an obvious case (barely a 4) and meets someone who will force him to re-examine what it means to see. Part 1 of Sketchy

The Gilded Cage by BeautifulFiction (E, 326,887 w., 31 Ch. || Omegaverse || Omega Sherlock / Alpha John, Friends to Lovers, Dub Con, Reproductive Rights) – In a world where Omegas are the property of the elite Alphas, locked away and treasured by those wealthy enough to buy them, John never questioned his flatmate's secondary gender. Sherlock Holmes was an Alpha through-and through. Wasn't he? A chance discovery turns the world on its head, and John is left grappling to come to terms with Sherlock's past as events conspire to threaten their future.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #original characters #my fic recs #Anonymous #long post

[shesawriter39049]

|Breakdowns & Bugatti’s| M|

     *****  Headcanon’s for my OT7 AU*****

Genre: Rich Kid AU/ Drama/ Suspense/ Smut/ Angst

AU SUMMARY : The story of 8 heirs, who also happen to be the children of some of the most powerful, and well known political figures in The Big Apple! This is a candid look at all of the sex, lies, drama, scandals, couture and boujee affairs that are caught both on, but more importantly off camera!

OR: Gossip girl meet’s HTGAWM? Essentially if GG was on HBO, darker, and had more depth within it’s plot! Which is no shade, I love me some Gossip Girl, but realistically looking back a lot of the “Drama” wasn’t that...deep lol! But we still loved it all the same!

Note:  The first chapter is called “The Kim’s of New York” So these headcanon’s are solely the Kim boys & the OC! ALSO, I just tried to find the most discrete gif for the Y/N there is NO ethnicity for ANY of my OC’s! Also, it’s set to be a OT7 intertwined plot but the smut with the OC will prob only be 3/4 members deep!

***The sneak peek for part 1 which is Namjoon X Reader will be linked***

~~~~~~~

Name: Namjoon Kim

Age: 21 Birth place: New York, New York

Current Residence: West Village, New York/ Songpa-Gu, Seoul Korea

Profession: Heir, College student, Entrepreneur, Art lover, Smartass, Heartbreaker (Closet fuck boi) 

College: NYU (Incoming Junior)

Degree: Aiming for a Master’s in Journalism & Political communication. Endgame :Political Journalism

Preferred Degree: Opinion, Trade, or Art Journalism, or a Museum Curator   (Namjoon actually anonymously runs a pretty popular art based travel blog)Namjoon also dabbles in that Soundcloud life making beats under an undisclosed name...however that’s just a hobby....so he says...

Business Type:....Co-owner/founder of an exclusive, invite only, dating service....do with that information what you will!

(Bonus Question ) Licensed Business?: LMAO….sure

Net Worth : 10 Figures

Dating Status : Closet Fuck Boi! Wait, is that not an option? Okay fine. He’s single...ish…Kinda? Well to be fair it depends on the time of day honestly! Is it a Sunday? Are we going to Brunch at Society Café? Or, is it Friday night and he’s going to the “Press Lounge”? More importantly is it election season and and does his father need him to not look like a hoe!? This is all crucial information, I need meticulousdetails honestly! So for the time being I guess I’ll have to pass on the question!

Aesthetic : Tom Ford X Hugo Boss X Valentino X Dior X Tommy Hilfiger = Couture Business Casual! I.E Namjoon always looks like he’s going to some business meeting with Elon Musk, and Jeff Bezos! Even if it’s like...noon on a Saturday and your going on a day trip to Nappa...He’s still in calfskin loafers and a disrespectfully tight button up. Namjoon’s giving like...hot college professor PornHub realness...Yup His whole “Scholar Student” Aesthetic is a whole ass kink and baby boy knows it! 

Political Tie: Father, Joshua Kim, New York Senator

Parents : Father : Joshua Kim, (New York Senator, son of Billionaire tech Tycoon Sang Woo Kim) Mother: Christine Kim : Luxury Event planner

Siblings : Only child

Political Party: Democratic

Actual Political Party: Liberal Daily : Matte Black Porsche 911/ Satin Red Ferrari 458/ Bugatti Veyron Matte red

Name: Seokjin Kim (Jin Kim)

Age: 23

Birth place: London, England

Current Residence: Upper Eastside, New York/ Chelsea London

Profession: Existing, Retired Editorial Model, Entrepreneur, Occasional influencer (When he feels like it) IE, the influencer that never really asked for the titile...he’s just rich and living his life! I mean let’s be real who isn't curious to see how the -1% lives?!

College: University of Oxford

Degree: Maybe he has a Master’s in Business...maybe he dropped out!

Preferred Degree: Culinary Arts...or honestly...just chillin...maybe eventually open his own modeling firm or something down the line!

Business Type:....Jin casually runs high stakes poker matches...and that’s all you need to know for right now….

(Bonus Question ) Licensed Business?:...Again...that’s all you need to know right now…

Net Worth : 10 Figures

Dating Status : Single, and not in the mood to entertain….unless you’ll like...walk yourself out after then maybe...Oh also it’s a requirement that you’re aware there’s more luxury brands than Gucci and Louis Vuitton. Show up in anything straight monogram and Jin’s going flaccid on command!

Aesthetic : Chanel  X  Dior X Cavalli X Dolce X Fendi  = On Duty Runway Model! It truly doesn’t matter if he’s going to brunch, the movies, or sitting front row at Galliano! Jin always looks like he should be front row at Galliano! Whilst also effortlessly looking 10x’S pretter than half of the bitches in Manhattan even on his worst day! Androgyny at its finest, well Jin and Judge Parks son are kinda tied in that department!

Political Tie: Father, David Kim, Mayor’s Chief of Staff/ “Ghost” press secretary

Parents : Father : David Kim, (Retired Corporate Attorney, son of Billionaire Oil Tycoon Hyun-Son Kim) Mother: Lisa Kim, Co- owner of Hotel Shailla, daughter of Michael Lee, Millionaire Entrepreneur )

Siblings : Taehyung Kim (20), Hae Jin Kim (29) Deceased...( Allegedly)  

Political Party: Democratic

Actual Political Party: Honestly, Jin could give less than a damn

Daily : Matte Pink Aston Martin One, White Bugatti Chiron

Name: Taehyung Kim (Tae Kim)

Age: 20

Birth place: Rome, Italy

Current Residence: Cobble Hill, New York/ Pairs, France (When he’s not in school...or just on the weekends)

Profession: College student, Painter, Podcast Host, unwarranted fashion critique/ Stylist! Tae lowkey thinks his IG feed is the reprise of “Fashion  Police” Joan Rivers bless rest her soul..she would’ve loved him!

College: Bernard (Sophomore)

Degree:  Fine Arts (Painting/ Sculpture)

Preferred Degree: Exactly...what he’s doing...he enrolled at NYU for business. Lasted all of like...5 months before he dropped out!

Business Type:....Tae run’s a very...controversial late night Podcast  appropriately titled “Tae unfiltered”! It wasn’t supposed to be a job, lord knows he doesn't need one...However due to the steady increase in his audience the youngest Kim is on track to ending up on Forbes without his inheritance.

(Bonus Question ) Licensed Business?:...Yup!

Net Worth: 10 Figures

Dating Status : Single, and more than ready to mingle, Tae essentially had the same girlfriend all throughout high school! The pair broke up maybe 7 months ago when she opted to go to college in London. So let’s just say he has a lot of making up to do and he’s very much….open to new experiences…

Aesthetic : Guicci  X  Gucci X Gucci X  Gucci X Gucci = Gucci!? Nah, actually Tae, is fond of anything that doesn't...blend in...so Moschino, GCDS, Vetements, Kenzo, Balmain= If it lowkey looks like it could've been homemade...but it cost like bare minimum 4k! Or he just highkey looks exactly like you’d expect, like a very rich, art student who loves funky. abstract, unethical, clothing! Is he going to Coachella or to the farmers market? We may never know but that’s fine! He’s also young, and well aware that he’s fine as fuck, and that’s a whole ass problem! Tae may not have a ton of experience but he’s far from shy and more than down to learn...

Political Tie: Father, David Kim, Mayor’s Chief of Staff (Ghost press secretary)

Parents : Father : David Kim, (Retired Corporate Attorney, son of Billionaire Oil Tycoon Sang Tae Won Kim) Mother: Lisa Kim, Co- owner of Hotel Shailla, daughter of Michael Lee, Millionaire, Entrepreneur )

Siblings : Seokjin Kim (23), Hae Jin Kim (29) Deceased ( Allegedly)

Political Party: Democratic

Actual Political Party: Liberal AFFFFFFFFFFFFF

Daily : Lime Green Lamborghini Huracan/ Matte Grey Ferrari F60

Name: Yn/Ln

Age: 21

Birth Place: Paris, France

Current Residence: Upper East Side, New York/ Dubai

Profession:...Taking pictures, of both herself and other people, ugh...looking attractive? Does that count? Oh being well dressed...Self taught photographer, Fashion Blogger, Creative Director,Entrepreneur...

College: N/A ...Possible freshman at NYU or Bernard or, FIT for Photography & or Fashion

Degree: N/A... IF, she went it would be for Fine Arts/ Fashion degree for Creative Direction

Preferred Degree: Honestly, none, she lives and breathes fashion and due to her lifestyle Y/n already has the type of connections that up and coming photographers would die for! BUT...said college degree would shut her father up...so it’s a possibility! However, it’s not like he considers photography or being a fashion influencer a real job anyway...sooo she mideswell just not even bother!

Business Type:....Existing? Her main job is essentially...breathing...and occasionally taking pictures of other people! Oh, and herself as well, she get’s paid to post daily content! She runs a website called “MyJobIsToBeWellDressed” Co-owner of an exclusive invite only dating service!

(Bonus Question ) Licensed Business?: Yes and...(lmao)...for the first part, where her blog and all of that is concerned, yes...she’s 1099 the full nine! The other job however...................mmm... next question?

Net Worth: 10 Figures

Dating Status :YOLO

Aesthetic : 90’s Couture meet’s “House of Yes” @ 3 AM ( Back when luxury brands weren’t afraid to have fun and be a little risque)  Chanel X Versace X Dolce X Prada X Gucci X Galliano = Well kept sugar baby??? Or every time you see her your literally like “Dude where the fuck are you even going!!??” Baby girl is always overdressed, she showed up to go on a doggy date through central park with Yoongi and Holly in 7 inch Louboutin’s sooo..we love that! Owns literally every vintage 90′s runway archive you can think of...If you’ve gagged over it on Pinterest it’s in Y/n’s closet. She’s smooth as all fuck...that’s for damn sure, radiating the perfect blend of BD and WAP energy....she’s a bad bitch and she knows it! Fuck the entire upper Eastside knows it!

Political Tie: Father, Christopher L/N, New York Senator

Parents: Father : Christopher L/N, (New York Senator, son of Billionaire Automotive Tycoon/ Real Estate Mogul Gregory L/N/ ) Mother: Ashley L/N, (luxury) Interior Designer & Daughter of Hotel Mogul Michael L/N

Siblings: Only child...maybe

Political Party: Democratic

Actual Political Party: Liberal

Daily : Matte Black Bugatti Divo / Satin Purple Lamborghini Murcielago/ Any car that any of her friends are driving because...fuck that, ridding shotty all day!

~~~~~~~~

There they are!!

The sneak peek is linked below...part 1 is Namjoon X Reader

However Jin and Tae are briefly introduced...and they will eventually have induvial chapters as well!

SNEAK PEEK

#namjoon #namjoon smut #namjoon x you #namjoon x reader #taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #jin #jin smut #jin x reader #jin x you #seokjin #kim seokjin #bts #bts au #bts smut #bts x reader #kpop #kpop smut

[thebluestbluewords]

9 for the OTP questions? Choose any ship you’d like!

Thank you nonnie! Sorry for taking almost a week to get to this, hope you enjoy :)

Number 9-- Pirate AU: Who is the pirate? Who is the member of the royal family who did not sign up for this?

(There are two not-fics below-- rotten four as is my brand, and mal/audrey)

There’s two ways I could go with this:

either THIS is the Maldry rivals-to-friends-to-lovers fic, where Mal is a dashing pirate who is young and rebellious and was kicked off of her ship by her mother, who wants her to attend the young lady's academy on the mainland and educate herself in the ways of “proper” society so that they can infiltrate the rich ships better and get the reputation as the gentlewoman pirates that they deserve. Of course, in this fic Mal meets Audrey along the way, and hates her immediately. Seriously, this girl likes PINK and PRINCESSES but also NOT PRINCESSES because she is NOT INTO GIRLS and it’s INFURIATING.

“Mal,” says Evie, who is Mal’s best friend from the pirate ship who is actually delighted to be attending the princess academy and is learning new ways to hide knives in her fancy dresses every day “Babe.”

“Fuck off,” says Mal, who has known Evie since they were six and had a falling-out so dramatic that they sailed on separate ships next to each other for four years afterwards.

“You’re so gay for her.” says Evie, who is already hooking up with Mal in their free time because it’s easy and comfortable and they both enjoy it well enough. “I know that look, Mal Bertha.”

“There’s no look,” says Mal, sulking.

“Just ask her out with all of your dashing pirate charm.” Evie says. She has not stopped applying her lipgloss throughout this conversation, and it’s not as distracting as it should be for either girl.

So Mal goes out and picks up a new pair of boots with less bloodstains than her old ones, and rents a boat (renting is like stealing, except it’s only for a while. It’s practically borrowing, really, except for how Evie has drilling it into Mal’s mind after a few too many incidents with lost books that BORROWING happens when you’ve ASKED FIRST) and decides to turn on the full pirate charm

Audrey is not impressed, and does not break up with her boyfriend, Chad Charming, over this attempt at wooing. She is a princess, and in NO HECKING WAY did she sign up to be….harassed!! By a pirate no less!! Everyone knows who her mother really is, no matter if she’s here under an “education decree” from the “crown prince” for the “children” of the exiled *former* smuggler’s community by the coast.

….Mal steals a boat, and tries again. Only this time with kidnapping.

Audrey is impressed with the dedication, if nothing else. She may not like a pirate, but she can appreciate a girl who will dedicate at least six hours of her life to plotting and stealing a whole finishing vessel from the coast. And cook her a lobster dinner on it.

Mal is delighted by this turn of events. Evie is thrilled that she finally has time without her best friend where she can FINALLY decorate their room the way she wants. Audrey is reluctant at first, but eventually comes around to the idea of dating a bad girl.

….and also there’s a bit where Mal gets dumped in the water and Audrey, despite Not Signing Up For This Bull Crap, has to jump in and save her. From about two feet of water. Because Audrey was being a reasonable person and taking her shirt off so that she could get the full benefits of the sun. Make that vitamin D.

Mal is so gay that she walked off the side of the boat when it happened.

The OTHER answer is that it’s a rotten ot4 story, and Mal is an evil princess who gets sent away to live on a pirate ship for a year by her mother, who wants her to become more evil and also learn some leadership skills. The other three are the pirates who are supposed to teach her their wicked ways of stealing and drinking and cruelty.

Unfortunately for Maleficent’s plans, the shipping journey doesn’t go exactly according to plan.

Mal does not fall overboard this time, but what DOES happen is that the OTHER wicked princess on board the ship is too perfect for words, and when it’s revealed that actually, Evie is the famous pirate princesa espelho and NOT another wicked boarding school member, Mal has a full blown gay crisis.

“Well YEAH,” says Jay, who is also dating essentially pirate royalty. “She’s like, basically the coolest person you’ll ever meet, aside from me. What, did you think she was one of us regular wicked school brats?”

“I don’t know what I expected,” Mal tells her pillow, which she is burying her face in during said Gay Crisis. “She’s too good to be true.”

“Nah.” Jay says, mouth full of ye olde cheetos or something. “She’s pretty lame sometimes. You should ask her about what her room looked like when she first got her own ship. All dark and gloomy.”

“WHAT” shrieks Mal, who has been working on changing her bunk to the darkest, deepest corner since she first arrived. “She THREW OUT a room that was dark AND gloomy in favor of what?”

“Better lighting for her makeup tutorials, mostly.” Jay says, not paying attention anymore. “I think she might also have a full journalism setup there too. She won’t tell me anymore, not after what happened with the caustic tar.

Mal is horrifically curious about the caustic tar now. “What was it made from,do you know?” she asks, because she’s still working on how to cohabitate with other people peacefully despite growing up running around an evil academy since she was a child.

“Nothing important,” says Jay casually, throwing a ball at the ceiling.. “She had some boards replaced, scrubbed off all the skin on her palms fixing the parts of the door she didn’t want to replace, and then made a very cool liquid version of the tar for spraying on fabric to get natural wear and tear patterns on new garments.

“Sick.” Mal says, and before she can make any other comments:

“There was the matter of the handprints though,” Jay say, still extremely fake-casually. .”they were weird, you know, because Evie had them on her back for weeks, with the tar and all, and they were definitely dainty. Almost like some girl kissed her around the neck while there was still tar on her hands.”

Mal throws a shoe at him, knocking both the ball and the boy out of the way, and shoves past to find Evie.

Because the roles are already a mess for this (I am very small and very tired place just roll with it as I am not editing this before I post) Mal runs into exactly the pirate royalty she doesn’t want to see.

“What the fuck are you doing in my room?” asks Carlos, who is basically a tiny perfect decoy in this world. His mother had a monopoly on the exotics trade for a good few years when he was a child, and would tie him to the mast and make him cry for mercy as a way of luring other ships hoping to rescue a nobleman’s child closer. It worked disturbingly well, and now at sixteen, Carlos is both a pirate elite and terrified of falling into the water.

Mal pushes past, because she is as always a little bit of an asshole, and goes off to find her OWN pirate princess to date. She doesn’t need any stupid boys who just look at her like she’s dumb when she doesn’t know an anchor form a bowline. She doesn’t need to know. She’s going to be managing her own crew eventually, and they’ll do all of the heavy lifting aspects of it all. Mal is simply going to chill out and wait for the princess to come to her.

Of course, because this is a pirate story, this is when another ship sees the school experience boat, and decides that the best experience for the young baddies to have is explosions. Lots of them.

First hand, even.

The pirates (Evie and Jay and Carlos included) get to stations.

Mal, confused and distressed by this turn of events, is about halfway from transforming her whole shit and dealing with the dragon claw marks later, decides to wait in the hold. She is not getting paid for this experience, and it’s so beyond her ability to control what other ships do, mom.

Mal might have a few mommy issues in addition to the princess issues. A balance there.

“Fuck” Mal says, instead of dictating a letter to her mother like she should when entering a potentially life-threatening situation. “Now I’m never going to be able to talk to her.”

Mal does not die, Evie does not die, neither of them actually manage to steal anything in this story except for each other’s hearts, and then they talk at length about their feelings and how they should become a mean fighting team.

The next pirate raid (intentional), they’re ready. They’ve practiced all of their cool two-person moves together, and they’re ready for this.

Two minutes into the battle, Jay gets taken by the unwitting second team and disappears. Mal, predictably, flips her shit when this happens.

Aaaaand now it is late and I’ve written up enough of a piece of a fic I won’t write for this hour. Hope you enjoyed one or both of these ideas, nonny.

(the second one ends with Evie and Carlos dragging Mal along on an adventure to get Jay back, where Mal learns how not to be useless on a ship anymore and she and Evie bond as people and they keep Carlos and Mal in turns from having a nervous breakdown as they get their boyfriend/BFF back and then they all realize that ACTUALLY they work best as a foursome and do that)

#my fic #descendants fanfiction #disney descendants #mal bertha #maldry #malvie #rotten four #I'm just....writing all over the place tonight #I did not proofread this and I did almost fall asleep writing it hope it doesn;t show

[trulycertain]

fic writer interview

Tagged by @skogrr Thank you very much! It's a while since I've done one of these, and I've missed them.

Name: Tru/"Oi you" Fandoms (that I write for): Dragon Age, mostly. Still the fandom of my heart. Mass Effect, Deus Ex... uh, accidentally GreedFall? I don't know how or when that happened. Two-shot: Hmm... The actual last two-shot I wrote was Terms & Conditions, a very silly Dorian/Inquisitor modern AU where Gal is the guy Dorian hires to stop his late father's house falling apart. Recently? I suspect that's going to be Driftwood, which can stand on its own as a sort of weird post-canon first-meeting AU, but is trying to tempt me to continue it. (Vasco ends up going looking for Tír Fradí, which has disappeared - and finds it. He also finds De Sardet as a highly avoidant tree god of the island, post-Bad Ending, who transformed against her will. And he ends up falling in love with her anyway.) Weird tree gods! Pining by literal pine! An eventual happy ending! More grumpy commentary by Vasco!

Most popular multi-chapter: Either An Unquenchable Flame or Distraction, probably - both juggernaut pairings, the former close to the game's release and the latter with some fancy forbidden romance, so not so surprising. But surprisingly, Prague, 10:42 PM has done really well, considering it's for a small fandom (Deus Ex) and a rarepair age/rank-difference pairing that I thought would be a one-off experiment? I get it, guys. I like sad repressed stoics too.

Actual worst part of writing: Editing - which can be fun, but that "over and over" stage when you're about to post, especially in a longfic if you fear you've lost the spirit of the thing and the character voices and you can't see the wood for the trees. And when I have to remove a whole scene which Jenga-unbalances the fic, and then I have to redux from the top. Basically, most things to do with pacing. How you choose your titles: I like double-meanings and one word titles. If that fails: quote from a song. If that fails: quote from poetry, but very rarely. Do you outline: Only a little. A bulletpointed list of events or noted-down major lines of dialogue, that's usually it.

Ideas I probably won’t get around to but wouldn’t it be nice: Uh... oh god. I blame so many people for some of these.

Post-Destroy ending where John is attempting to build a shed on Rannoch because that's the kind of thing retired people do, right? and Tali is far better at it than him, and it's just... disgusting fluff.

Actually, just reduxing the early John/Tali stuff with a bit more nuance and a stronger style.

Eva and Kaidan, and their mutually wary first meeting. ("Wow, that's a lot of pomade." "Wow, that's a lot of death-glare.")

AU where Gal and Dorian never met in DAI, and after everything went down, Gal tried to fade into the shadows and leave. He ended up working in Tevinter as an occasional informant/odd-jobs guy the way he was pre-Inquisition. He ends up being a gardener for a bitter, wry magister who seems to hate the entire Magisterium, has recently lost his father to political scheming and murder, and wants to take down the entirety of the remaining Venatori with one staff and maybe his teeth if he has to (hi, Dorian). But first, Dorian's going to drink his own body weight in whiskey and be a recluse for a while and start thinking about time magic again. Gal is trying to keep his head down and should definitely not be falling in love with said magister. Who's someday going to end up at one of the more southerly ports, come across a statue of the great Inquisitor, and go, Oh.

Stuff on Jensen's PT and rebuilding himself post-augs. More of Proprioception, basically.

Mer-AU where Marie De Sardet is still a diplomat attempting to make new connections, just not a human one, and it's a disaster. An awkward disaster. Highlights include her being framed as the beast trying to drown their best captain; her attempting to wobble about on brand-new legs and Vasco's coat while everyone assumes the dear captain has had a few too many; her asking Vasco if his "fascinating markings" glow; them getting into a duel, and her (fondly) getting punted off the side of the ship going "Woo-hoo." OK, I wrote a bit of that, but only a 1k doodle I'll probably never return to.

Non-Naut court AU where Marie gets promised to Bastien D'Arcy, because he's a bit of a layabout but he's also rich, popular at court, and amenable to bribe - [cough] suggestion, and the D'Arcys have prominent trading links with the Alliance. Instead she falls for his far less of a social butterfly, tired, worried-numbers-guy brother Léandre, who's pretty damn uncomfortable around Nauts because he's well aware he nearly got sold to them and he is not the favourite.

Straight-up role-reversal AU (another thing where I've put down 1k that I'll probably never return to), where Marie's Naut name is Paz, and she's a fed-up second-mate who's tired of noble idiots and feels a little strange and conflicted about her mark (and has context for it, because they make frequent crossings to Tír Fradí). Also a little more jaded, without the love of her mother, and not nearly as much of a tryhard as Vasco in canon; she ended up here because she had nowhere else to go and the Nauts were like "Ooh, free kid," and she's well aware. She gets stuck escorting the D'Arcy brothers to Tír Fradí for their new venture and is not looking forward to it. Except one of them is intensely bright and wry and keeps asking questions about the ship and noticing shit he is definitely not meant to notice, and they keep ending up in strange conversations, even if he seems really, really wary and uncomfortable about Nauts.

Some vague stuff about Vasco's thoughts on Jonas and that whole side quest, considering he's also a sea-given and implies sea-given take some shit in the Nauts, and also how damn difficult it must be watching a sea-given's parents endeavour to get their kid back when he knows full well his didn't do that for him.

Actually, just more Vasco POV in general, even though he's damn hard to nail down. I've written much pining for him from Marie's perspective, and I'd like to try things from the opposite. This guy's idea of wooing someone perfectly normally is to panic and then recite Baroque poetry. You know he's sappy as hell in the privacy of his own head, even if he's trying not to be.

Jean and Síora having the "I'm a sad healer who just lost my mother and I'm trying so hard not to crumble under the weight of assisting the leader" mutual talk way too late at night around the campfire and maybe him crying on her shoulder a little, with mutual kindness and the beginnings of attraction, and her finally getting past his jokey-smug facade to understand him.

More stuff about Jean's past in general, and how he wanted to be a doctor before he was dragged away from it by looking after Constantin and being nobility.

Síora and Eseld and the ways they changed over the years; something like an exploration of grief and growing her own will and the ways they very differently view the renaigse. Also maybe more about the en ol menawi magic, if I can worldbuild well enough?

I'd also love to do a GreedFall soulmark AU - it's generally not my kind of trope, I'm not into biological determinism type tropes - just because names and aliases and assumed identities are such a mess in GreedFall and it's a repeated plot point. That said, I feel like it's been done so beautifully in this fandom before that I wouldn't have much to add.

Callouts @ me: So. Many. Commas. So much over-explaining everything. If they get out of the car, your readers do not need a five-page manual of "and then he undid his seatbelt and leaned over to grasp the door handle, and then pulled it, and then stepped a foot out before he almost thought better of it - but no, he was going to get out of this car. The other foot joined the first, and he nearly banged his head on the doorframe."

Best writing traits: People say I have a head for finding small-but-important moments. I'm also told I write likeable protags. People have more than once said my writing makes them feel safe or makes them smile, and I really couldn't ask for more than that. I'll take those.

Spicy tangential opinion: I don't think I have any, really? Oh god, that makes me sound so very boring. Oh! Um. There should be more tree body horror in fandom. And body horror in general. *thumbsup*

No pressure tagging: @artemis-crimson, @eridanidreams,@rainypixel, @aphreal42.

#tru talks #memes #long post

[letters-from-eros]

Pairing: Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst To Fluff

Form: Oneshot. Songfic

AU: Hanahaki disease.

A/N: I had to edit this so hard for me to like it at all 😭 I hope you all enjoy.

Thank you.

You laid down, sprawled out on your bed with flower petals surrounding you. You think they're petals from a rose but they could just be stained in blood. You honestly didn't really understand how your condition worked, even though the extensive research you did and the consults with doctors. What you did know is that you're grateful that you haven't started coughing up blood, which is a side effect of progressed Hanahaki; AKA you're conditon/disease. It was obvious you had bigger and better things to worry about than Kirishima (the cause of the suffocating disease) but the petals were a constant reminder of him. You wonder if he thinks about you at least a tenth of how much you think about him.

The only people who know about your... Condition, is Jiro and Mina, your two best friends. Jiro is there to comfort you, though she can't quite understand why you would go through so much pain just to hold feelings for someone, Mina's there to try to make Jiro understand the importance of love and to make you happier about the situation. You couldn't ask for better friends, honestly.

The lump in your throat starts to form and come up and you take a deep breath and let the cough come, sitting upright, expelling the flowers. After the coughing fit is done you're left panting but there was something that didn't have the petals just fall out of your hand. You look at your hand that you coughed into.

Blood. It was laced on the flower making it oddly stick to you're hand.

You quickly went to the bathroom to flush the petals you just coughed up and wash the remainder of blood off your hands before rushing back to your room to call your two support units. You fumble with your phone before you manage to start a group call.

One ring, Mina is in.

"Hey, what's up?!" She asked in a cheery tone

"One second..." You hoarsely respond, waiting for Jiro.

3 rings, Jiro picks up.

"Sorry, couldn't hear my phone over my music, what's up you guys?" Jiro says in her usually monotone voice.

"I... I coughed up blood, guys," You confess to them.

"Y/N..." Jiro sighed, you could practically hear the head shaking and facepalming.

"It's time to confess, hun. And if he doesn't reciprocate it you can go get the procedure," Mina said in a fairly sassy tone, referencing the procedure I could take to make sure I would never cough up flowers again but that would iradicate my feelings for Kirishima.

"Yeah, I know. I'm not a blinded by love idiot," You respond, matter of factly.

"Thank god.." Jiro scoffed and you and Mina chuckled.

"So how am gonna ask him out?" You ask your polar opposite best friends.

Timeskip

You see Kirishima and Bakugo argue over... Something, at Bakugo's desk that was on the other side of the classroom than yours. You watch the clock tick for a few seconds before you start writing your note.

'Meet me at the auditorium,

                                             -Vines'

That was his nickname for you, vines. It referenced your quirk called the same thing. Oh the irony that you can sprout vines from your palms and control plants then you get a disease to cough up flowers.. The doctor who you went to to consult when you first starting coughing up the petals actually said that your quirk had the possibility to make the condition worst.

The bell rang and Bakugo and Eijiro continued arguing. You quickly left class and slipped the note into his prior to hurrying to the Auditorium.

Once you got there you found Mina adjusting her stool for the drums (Bakugo taught her how to play them) and Jiro tuning her bass. They both faked illness at some point of class to go set up the stage.

"Hey there, lover girl," Jiro said into the mic as you threw your backpack into some random chairs on the back row.

"Aren't you supposed to say check one two?" You snarkily replied. Once you got on stage you adjusted the height of your mic stand so that the mic was at your mouth.

The plan was great. You're gonna sing a cool love song that was playing in your earbuds when you first met Kirishima. You hope to god he doesn't have the memory of a goldfish and remembers the fact, especially after already telling him multiple times prior to conceiving the idea to sing to him. It was your favorite song because of that reason..

Two plants were on both sides of the door, you focus your quirk to move the plant vases to the middle of the main aisle, curling the branches into an intricate design that ultimately formed a heart.

"Pretty~" Mina spoke up in awe, staring at it. It was somewhat rare for you to use your quirk for something other than combat and it can be forgotten you can do cool, small things like this.

The door starts to creek open as Jiro and Mina start playing the beginning instrumentals. You start to sing the beginning verse as Eijiro fully comes into the auditorium, already awe struck.

Eijiro Kirishima's POV

"All I wanted was you," Y/N strong yet smooth voice sings, bouncing off the auditorium walls. I've get to hear her sing on rare occassions and I don't think I love anything more, well except for Y/N herself but unlike her singing I have to keep that love to myself...

I take a few steps further down the isle as an instrumental sounds off. Her quirk is so cool to add this beautiful and manly arbor, I doubt anything like this could be bought at a store.

I try to focus solely on her voice, but the thought keeps ringing in the back of my head onto why am I the only one watching? I know this song held significance us, but this seems so sudden. I am a man for spontaneity yet something like this seems random nonetheless. I should just focus on her singing.

Your POV

The ball starts to form in your throat towards the end of the song, you try to surpress it but your voice cracks just slightly, which is so embarrassing.. Which makes you focus on how stupid you're probably looking out of embarrassment which leads to you not focusing on the flowers which make them launch out in coughs. You pull the microphone away as weakening coughs expell the roses.  After your coughing fit theres a bed of rose petals, each one dotted with at least a little blood.

A pair of strong arms make you stand up straight before entrapping you.

"You have Hanahaki?" Kirishima questioms softly, barely above a whisper. Apparently he's heard of the disease. Didn't he do a very botched project on it once..?

"Mhm..." You confirm. He nuzzles his forhead into the crook of your neck as you hug him tighter.

"Because of me?" He questions again, sounding guilty, it took a second to process that if it was him, it meant that you reciprocated his feelings. The question was fueled by his instant assumption to blame himself.

"Mhm..." You respond, a bit to anxious to respond in full words, let alone full sentences.

"I'm so sorry.. I had no idea.. Y/N," He says, drawing away and looking into your eyes, hands moving to either side of your face. "Y/N.. I love you so much, I'm so sorry I didn't show you sooner.. I never meant to hurt you!"

How unmanly was the only word that Kirishima could think of to describe his cowardice to tell you how he feels, only to see that it left you with a painful disease. The supporting grip on your waist tightened, and the man in front of you looked like he was about to shatter into a thousand pieces.

"Its okay! There was no way you could've known!"

"But-"

"It isn't you're fault, please don't blame yourself.." You empathetically started to mirror Kirishima's feeling of guilt and sadness and your smile slowly turned into a dejected one.

Strong arms wrapped completely around you in a tight hug, causing you both to wobble a bit.

"I'm so sorry.. Uh, d-don't I need to kiss you? To get rid of the.. The flowers, I mean," A warm tint that complemented his hair flushed across his cheeks as he thought back to his botched project on Hanahaki. Requited feelings was enough to keep the disease at bay.

"Not if you don't want to, Kiri," You smiled warming at the flustered teen in front of until a rough collision of lips against yours. It was filled with anxiety and awkwardness from the redheads behalf with this being the first time kissing anyone, let alone someone who he loved as much as you.

"Woo!!" Jirou catcalled, exiting the auditorium with a playful smile

"Yaaaasssss!!!" Mina cheered.

They were already gone by the time you both had pulled away from the kiss, leaving you both at a complete and utter loss for words.

You relished in the feeling of breaths unclogged with suffocating flowers, the feeling on Kirishima's soft, lingering hold across your waist that he didn't even know was there. There are no words in the english dialect to describe this moment of blissful clarity. It was hard for you to even come up with words to say.

So many feelings to express, but all that came out was a soft, grateful, "Thank you."

#my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #mha #boku no hero academia x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia songfic #kirishima eijiro #kirishima #kirishima x reader #mha kirishima #kirishima imagine #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijiro fluff

[imacrowcawcaw]

Eyes of Juniper Ch. 1 (A Metallica Fic)

Ao3 Link

Author (as known on Various sites): Lady Lover- Rockfic, Luluthechoosingcrow - AO3, theladylovingcrow - Deviantart and Wattpad, @sammy_bluebells - Instagram, @imacrowcawcaw - main Tumblr, @insannywestan - Sanny shipping Tumblr Pairing: Lars Ulrich/James Hetfield, Kirk Hammett/Cliff Burton, Lars/Female Character (briefly), Lars/Male Character (kinda, more just awkward one sided flirting then Lars gets rescued by his knight in a ratty Motorhead shirt) Fandom: Metallica Tags/warnings: Sex-swap AU, early 80s era 'tallica, smut, gay smut, also het smut since the whole gender switch thing, drinking and alcohol, lots of cussing and profanity, should warn that Lars goes into detail about taking a piss cuz ya know it's new to him, Idk I'll add tags per chapter as I think of shit

Notes: 

1. Okay, so I spent like months thinking about whether to do this or not. On the one hand, yes this has so much potential to be fun (and I've seen some other sex swap stories i like). On the other hand, a lot of the whole sex/Gender swap thing is really stereotypical gender shit and goes against what I personally believe. But, creative juices won out and I'll try to keep true to character as much as possible while also making this funny and not too misogynistic (if that's possible).

2. This is a work in progress! I started it a year and a half ago, and now a friend is helping me continue 

3. This story is inspired by the song 'Jewel of the Summertime' by Audioslave (on their album Revelations) I love this song and it is awesome you should totally go listen to it.

4. The witch-lady is inspired by Aine, Celtic goddess of love, summer, wealth, and sovereignty. I literally just googled 'goddess of love' then scrolled through a list to find someone other than Aphrodite (don't get me wrong I love Greek mythology but it just wasn't right for this fic) and came across this girl. I only did a quick Wikipedia read, I'm not planning on going too heavy into her myth and more just using her for the plot but.... If anybody is more well versed in Celtic mythology and I seem to get something wrong, please feel free to comment and I'll try my best to make it accurate!

5. Woo damn that was a lot of stuff, I don't blame you if you didn't bother reading it. Now, on with the show!

----------

1984 (Lars' POV)

The first thing I felt when I woke up was this odd sense of.... well, just something being fuckin' off. Like I was missing something, but also like I had gained something? I felt like a brand-new person, although in my gut I was still me.... Man, I must have had WAY too much Jager last night, it's fucking with my head.

I slowly peeled the itchy fleece blanket off of my body and rolled onto the floor, which was about a foot from the bare mattress. We really needed to invest in some sheets, especially if we wanted to keep bringing chicks back to the house. Apparently, most girls are not at all impressed by stained, lumpy mattresses with almost no bedding on them.

Speaking of girls and mattresses, didn't I bring one home last night? I raised my head slightly from its position from the threadbare carpet and looked at the bed, trying to see if Anna (Was that her name?) was still there. Yep, there was a naked hippy still passed out in my bed, sweet!

I groaned quietly as I stood and shuffled my way out the door and down the hall to the bathroom. It was then I noticed that I didn't really have the usual alcohol-and-early-morning-and-piss induced erection, but my bladder was still straining. Huh, weird.

Whatever. I just wanted to pee, get rid of that feeling in my gut, and get that dead possum taste out of my mouth. Pushing open the door and wincing as the creaky hinges screeched through my headache, I pulled down my boxers and reached for my dick.... What the fuck?

WHAT THE FUCK?

WHERE WAS MY MOTHERFUCKIN DICK?!

Trying not to panic, I looked down, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment so I wouldn't have to see right away. But, of course, that kind of defeated the purpose of looking down, so I opened them again. No dick. The hell was going on?

Taking a deep, calming breath, I tried to think through this rationally. My dick, for whatever reason, was not where it was supposed to be. But, my bladder was still full and begging to be released, so obviously my system or whatever was still working. That need to pee was turning into a burning pain, so I tried to come up with a solution. If I don't have a cock, then I can piss through....what, exactly? Is there anything down there at all? What is even going on!?

Pulling in another deep breath through my nose, I let it hiss out between clenched teeth as I slowly, so slowly, touched my fingers to my abdomen and moved them downwards, dreading what I would find. Annnnnd....... Yep, there it was.

Velvety soft lips, slick, pungent juices; anatomy I knew so well but never, EVER expected to feel on myself. My crisis would have to wait a minute, though, 'cause my bladder was going to explode and no dick be damned I needed to do something about it.

Gingerly sitting my ass down on the toilet (god, so weird sitting down just to piss) I tried to slowly let it out. The feeling was...well there was certainly relief of the pressure, but it also felt strange in a way I couldn't really describe. I could possibly get used to it, not that I'm planning on staying like this or anything.

Cringing as I wiped, I slowly pulled the boxers back up to my hips that I just now noticed were a little wider than usual. And my hands, were they smaller? Softer? My chest too....HOLY SHIT I HAVE BOOBS! That, I might be able to get used to.

I turned to the mirror, and was quite shocked at what I saw. There was a girl standing there, with large, doe-like green eyes staring back at me from underneath brown bangs. She had a nice tan on her upper body, although her breasts were still pale where she clutched at them, small rosy nipples poking through her fingers. A pair of black cotton boxers stretched tight around the small curve of her hips, but hung loose around her milky thighs that almost touched. And this...this chick was me. ME.

Shaking my head, I splashed some water onto my face and rubbed my eyes, hoping it was just a fucked up dream. No such luck.

I was considering hiding in the bathroom forever, because no way in hell could I let the guys see me like this, let alone figure out how to explain, when I heard a scream. It sounded a lot like Kirk's voice, so I pushed my problems to the back of my head and ran into the hallway, stopping dead in my tracks at what I saw.

Anna, or whatever her name was, stood at the top of the stairs, dressed in flowing black robes with green Celtic designs all over them. She had jewels and charms hanging from her waist, wrists, neck, and ears, each tinkling as she tossed some sort of... Powder onto a very shocked looking Kirk. Or at least, I was pretty sure it was Kirk. He (she?) seemed to be in the same boat as me as far as bodies were concerned at the moment.

With a final dusting of powder, witchy-chick turned to me and smirked. "I hope you learn your lesson, I'll be back in a week. And as for you...." She turned to Kirk, "Well, you're just too damn cute! I couldn't resist seeing what a pretty girl you'd make!"

"This is your fault? You bitch! " I yelled. "Why the hell did you do this to us? Who are you? Change us back, then get the fuck out! I don't wanna be a damn girl, and neither does Kirk!" God this was fucking insane, that chick was crazy!

She hissed at me, eyes flashing in a way that could not be human. "Now you listen, GIRL. You'll stay like this for as long as I deem fit. You need to learn some respect for women, and being one is the best way to do that. I suppose you don't remember what you did last night?" She asked, looking bored and ready lo go fuck up someone else's life.

I thought hard, then it came creeping back to me. The bar, the Jager, the flirting with a group of girls, copping a feel and getting slapped, then her changing her mind and coming home with me, talking dirty in her ear, then unworldly sex, her whispering what sounded like a spell in my ear as I came... Holy shit.

"Is this about me grabbing your ass? I'm sorry! Please don't do this!" I begged, finally starting to let the situation sink in and desperation set. This could not be happening.

"Hmph," she snorted, "Begging isn't going to get you anywhere. I've seen humans beg for much less, and they still didn't get it. No, you'll love your life as a woman for a week, both of you, and hopefully you'll come to realize the struggles and terror that comes with it. If you've learned your lessons and are truly sorry, then you will be turned back. If not... Well you'll just have to stay like this until you do."

And just like that, she turned with a flourish and disappeared into thin air. My morning could not get any crazier, I was sure if it. But, because I wasn't actually sure and was suddenly doubting all logical occurrences in the world, I knocked on the wooden railing. That done, I turned towards Kirk.

He (seriously, do I call us he's or she's now? This is so fucked up) was shaking like a leaf, looking like he'd fall over any moment. I went over to grab him, calm him down, something.

"Shh shh, it's all right, Kirk," I muttered in his ear, awkwardly patting his back. I never thought I'd need to, but it really fucking sucks I can't comfort him any better than this. It was like this sour feeling in my chest that nestled in right next to my heart, whispering how awful I was at this and how he's probably mad at me for getting him into this situation.

Before I could ask him if he wanted to punt me out of a window, though, I heard some shuffling and talking coming from downstairs. James and Cliff were headed up here. As much as I wanted to hide for a week until my fuckin' "lesson" was up, I couldn't exactly drag Kirk into the hall closet in his current state, so I stood my ground.

"Hey, ladies, we do appreciate the service you've done our ugly ass friends, but could you keep the cat fight down until you've left the house?"

Ah, James, the man still didn't know how to talk to women after all this time. He was either too shy to form a sentence, or he put on this macho bravado that turned him into a drink asshole. Either way, this lady was not pleased.

By now I guess the guys had reached the landing Kirk and I were at and saw me hugging him, because Cliff chimed in, "Aww, they've made up! Good! Now, can I ask what exactly you two were telling about so loudly that it woke me and my boy James up? Did Lars do something?"

My back straightened at that, and I turned my head to him indignantly. "I did fucking not!" I retorted, even though apparently this whole situation was my fault. No need for them to know that, though.

"Holy shit, Lars!?!" James screamed.

I sighed. "Hi, Jamie."

----------

Chapter 2

#metallica #metallica fanfic #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #lars ulrich #kirk hammett #james hetfield #cliff burton #cliff my man #kirky wooi #jlars #kliff #papa het #little lars #babytallica #early metallica #1980s #alternate universe #sex swap #sex swap au #james x lars #kirk x cliff #my writing #lulucrowproductions #fluff #crack #humor #slow burn #alcoholica

[minah-delacroix]

At any price (Part II)

Universe: Dynasty AU

Characters: Minah, Sungjae, Tyler, Jane, Tara, Ashleigh

Word count: 3,7k

The ambush

“Your office is coming together” Tara took an appreciative look around as she walked through the transparent double doors into Minah’s and Tyler’s new office. The room was a spacious and very luxurious penthouse Tyler had picked with Minah’s demands and taste in mind. 

So far it was decorated in white, all clean lines that contrasted with the dramatic floor-to-ceiling French windows offering a magnificent view of the Thames. Across the room, there was a well-stocked bar and a golden cart with empty buckets of ice. Tara inspected the shelves and a smirk came across her lips when she noticed her brother’s favorite brand of scotch and Minah’s rosé of preference on them. “But I have to say it, Minah,” Tara said “I thought you’d work from home, this office still has a lot of work to go through”  she raised a suspicious brow as she sat across her friend

“What can I say?” Minah shrugged giving her a strained smile. “I love this place already” There was no need for Tara to know Minah had been spending most of her time in that office simply because she couldn’t stand to see Sungjae at the manor. Not the mention that Christmas season was fast approaching and horribly enough every tradition in the Delacroix household reminded Minah of him, the comforting sandalwood smell of his home and-

“Only you would plan a party in 24 hours to prove a point” Jane Durand’s voice resounded in the almost empty room, forcing Minah to push the memories of Sungjae away and refocus on the present day and the reason why she’d called her friends in the first place.

“Well, it’s a launch party, it’s supposed to be fast,” Minah said matter of factly, pulling a list in meticulously neat handwriting from her leather journal. It was a list of people she’d carefully curated, keeping in mind that her company was supposed to be leading a whole new generation of fashion pioneers.

“Why are you really doing this?” Jane suddenly asked, throwing a quick glance at Minah before letting her eyes wander around the place and eventually land on a picture of Tyler and Tara that rested on top of his desk.

“To get the company the attention it deserves?”  MInah’s mouth twisted into a lopsided smile as she distractedly scrolled down her tablet “To woo new clients?” She spoke as though the answers to Jane’s questions were obvious, but her friends were still looking at her, eyebrows furrowed, concern evident on their faces.

“Hmmmm” Jane lips pursed as she eyed her best friend with disbelief.

“Why are you always hmmm-ing me?” Minah questioned defensively. The last thing she deserved was to be ambushed by her own friends or get interrogated for something as harmless as a party. 

Truth be told, the party had a lot to do with the fact she needed a distraction from Sungjae and very little with her business advancements, but no one needed to know that and especially not the people in front of her. Jane would tease her mercilessly about pining over an “insignificant assistant” and Tara would probably get offended on behalf of her brother. After all, it was Minah who chased Tyler for business. Tara’s next words proved her point.

“I just think it’s a strange coincidence that you’ve openly rejected my brother more than once, but the moment Ashleigh hooks up with that assistant you’re totally not having sex with, you’re back to focusing on Tyler” Tara bit down on her lower lip.

“Minah just goes where the attention is” Jane attempted to help her friend out, but Tara only grimaced, eyes widening in disapproval.

“That’s so off”

“Hmmmm”

Whatever the humming was meant to mean, Minah rolled eyes at her friends. “Ok, are you gonna help me plan this party or not?” 

Tara sighed, shaking her head half amused, half irritated as she took the tablet from Minah’s hands “Is this the guest list?”

“Where’s Ethan Smith or Lennox?” Jane questioned, craning her neck to check the list.

“Or any of Tyler’s contacts?” Tara peered at Minah questioningly.

“I need to introduce him to bigwigs we can make business with” Minah began explaining although it didn’t seem like she was making a good job at convincing Tara because the young woman was still frowning at her “Tyler’s taken a lot of loses with that tech startup fiasco, which makes a lot of his old contacts losers”

“That is tech, Minah” Tara shifted on the chair, looking at Jane briefly as if asking for her support on this one.

“Losers turn into winners with one idea” Jane shrugged casually.

Minah shut her eyes and took a deep breath “Fine, I’ll invite Tyler’s contacts”

“See? You can be a team player” Tara patted Minah’s hand, smiling at her like a proud mother who’d just successfully taught her child an important life lesson.

“Hmmmm” Minah let out a noise that barely expressed any feelings, but her friends took as a first victory.

The guest list

Minah had lunch with Tara and their friend Enzo in the trendiest and most exclusive restaurant in London, but there was no two hundred pounds unsatisfying dish or company good enough to stop Minah’s mind from diverting to that last conversation with Sungjae and the pain streaking through every now and then. Everywhere she went, she felt haunted by memories of Sungjae that just wouldn’t leave her alone. Minah was willing to admit she missed him desperately, but that wouldn’t stop her from simultaneously hating his guts and wishing she had the determination to leave Delacroix Manor. Or at least close the chapter of her life where Sungjae was a main character.

“I’ve been getting texts all day” Minah’s thoughts were interrupted by Tyler walking into the office, mouth easing into a bright smile that contrasted with the frowns Minah had been on the receiving end of, for the last couple of days. She’d been busy enough to wonder or actually care about Tyler’s mood swings, but she couldn’t deny she felt somewhat relieved to know Tyler was back on his good side “People are actually excited to come” He was so plased that he didn’t even called Minah out on the fact she’d cancelled their weekly strategy with the lukewarm excuse of “not feeling good”.

“And here’s the menu.” Minah pushed a piece of paper across the table when Tyler sat in front of her “The chef is a good friend of mine and I got the mixologist from the Home House”

“Nice” He nodded in approval, but his face suddenly fell into something more like what Minah had been getting over the last couple of days —silent judgment, sadness?, maybe a bit of resentment even—.  “And the guest list?”

Minah offered her tablet silently and Tyler scrolled down for a few minutes, nodding in approval every once in a while.

“You know what? Maybe we should add Harry Cheng and Henry Shanks” Tyler suggested casually —maybe too casually. “I just heard they’re in town” At Minah’s lack of response or at least a sign of recognition of their names Tyler went on “They founded the whole-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know who they are” Minah said with an eye roll “I tried to poach them when I was at DG“ she explained with a strange gleam in the eyes “I took them to Jean-Georges at The Connaught and then in the middle of dinner they turned me down. Of course I went ballistic and-“ Before she could tell the whole story, Tyler chimed in looking unexpectedly amused.

“I might’ve heard that story” He smirked “Wait, no I read it on Forbes when they landed on the cover.” Tyler said, putting emphasis on the words Forbes and cover. “Something about you threatening to crush them into nerd sauce”

“Ok, well, I’m not wrong” Minah watched Tyler press his lips together, a vague sign of disapproval . “Look, these guys think pocket protectors are high fashion”

“All I know is they developed a body heat adjusting textile we need desperately for the next collection” Tyler stared at Minah for what it felt like forever and she refused to look away, their interaction fraught with tension until Minah spoke

“Well, I try not to operate from desperation” she replied naturally, a slightly forced smile on her face.

“Yeah?” Tyler’s voice turned grave “Well, I want them there”

The pair exchanged looks. Minah’s eyes searched his in an attempt to find out if he was just putting a façade, but at the lack of evidence she just gave in with a deep weary breath.

“Minah, what’s more important?” Tyler’s expression softened, reaching to grab her hand across the desk “Your pride or this company?”

Minah didn’t think such an obvious question deserved an answer.

The baby

The Lee siblings’ residence looked like another mansion with white walls and glass front, but once people made it through the main iron gates, there was a domineering and intimidating aura that made everybody realize how utterly powerful the their family was. Even for people like Minah who’d grown up basking in luxury, their residence resulted praise worthy. However —quite predictably— the grand lengths Tyler had gone to decorate the venue of Envoûté’s launch party had people gasping and ‘ooh-ing’ once they began filtering into the gardens of the manor.

Although it was nearly winter, the place looked as though time had frozen in spring, with gigantic spirals of pink and purple lysianthus and stargazer lilies flanking the patio and flowers suspending from the fake ceiling Tyler had installed just in case rain poured. The crystal chandeliers emitted a slight coral glow that offered a romantic and enchanting ambiance.

Music flowed capriciously across the gardens as the last rays of the sun filtered through the ceiling, giving an angelic glow to even the most unwelcome guests, like Maude Olivier who was talking to someone Minah thought looked awfully familiar.

“You liked it?” A voice behind Minah spoke. She turned around to see Tyler, clad in a black velvet suit —with the huge embellishment of a dragon on the side—, offering her a glass of champagne.

“Every major player under 40 in fashion joined” Minah smiled genuinely for what it appeared to be first time in weeks. “I can’t believe I am saying this, but you outdid yourself, Lee” She added, looking at the music ensemble, eyes focused on the masterful and magical execution of the electric violin. 

“And you even got me my fashion tech geeks” Tyler commented proudly, referring to Harry Cheng and Henry Shanks, who looked like a couple of lost puppies at the bar, awkwardly holding glasses of floral gin “They look like they could use an apology” He said teasingly, moving dangerously close to speak into MInah’s ear.

Minah blamed the shivers down her spine on the backless Marchesa dress she was wearing and the cold weather outside the garden structure, so she only shook her head, both as a response to Tyler’s question and as a reminder that she’d been rejecting his advances for nearly a decade. There was no reason to change that now.

“I guess they’ll have to wait for that” she shrugged with a smirk “It’d be rude not to greet the guests first”

Tyler gave Minah a judgmental look, but she ignored it, climbing up on stage, making the music stop and the attention to immediately turn on her.

“Hello everybody” From that position Minah could recognize some familiar faces among the very chic crowd, Tara, Jane, Jaehyun, Mark, Adela Kim, the Deveraux brothers, even some of the old clients of Delacroix Group and a few celebrities. “I would like to be the first welcoming you to Tyler’s house” Applause broke out. Though Minah felt all eyes were on her and Tyler, she joined in clapping politely. “I have a very important announcement to make….” It was just then when Minah recognized who the woman talking to Maude Olivier was: Ashleigh, who now had Sungjae’s arms wrapped around her. “Tyler and I are having a baby” she blurted out of the blue, causing the crowd to lapse into silence and Sungjae to look over in her direction, expression unreadable  “Well, technically we already did, Maison Envoûté” Everybody automatically relaxed, laughing and clapping. “And while it’s not a literal baby, this new step means just as much to me” This, Minah said it sincerely, eyes moving to find Tyler leaning against a cocktail table, his sister patting him in the back. “I am proud to introduce you to my new family, starting with my brilliant partner, a man who trusted me with his money, brand and the only man I’d trust with my baby, Tyler Lee”.

The faux-job

“So you’re telling me you’re not upset that Ashleigh showed up?” Tara asked, her perfectly plucked eyebrows raised in concern.

“Or that she brought the guy you’re not sleeping with?” An equally concerned Jane handed Minah a glass of chilled rosé and looked at her closely, as though she were expecting her to show symptoms of a disease at any moment.

“It's fine they’re here” Minah said unconvincingly. She downed the glass —the fifth of the day— and clung tightly to the Marie Antoinette coupe, so much she was surprised the glass didn’t crack in her hands. Minah’s mind wandered a bit at that, the image of a deep cut and her hands bleeding non stop suddenly invading her brain. It was almost like a scene from some horror thriller, one of those she was so fond of and Sungjae considered morbid. “I didn’t even noticed they were here” she shrugged.

“But-“

“Just drop it, girls” Minah said sternly., acutely aware of the way her friends were looking at her —a mixture of pity and exasperation. “I said I’m ok” Minah waved to one of the waiters dressed in Tiffany-blue frac coats and picked another drink from the tray he offered. She downed it without hesitation, the bubbles pickling on her tongue.

“For god’s sake, Min, slow down” Tara whispered scandalized.

“I think I actually need something stronger” Minah looked around just on time to catch Sungjae kissing Ashleigh’s forehead. “Do you want anything from the bar?” She asked. Not waiting for her friends to reply, join or stop her, Minah turned on her heels and walked away. She waved and smiled at the people greeting her and politely dismissed some others who attempted to start a conversation, until she bumped into Harry Cheng and Henry Shanks.

“Oh, you two made it” Minah forced what might have been the millionth smile of the day.

“Yeap”, Henry replied with a grin. “And we brought a bottle to celebrate that our stocks are selling at 20 dollars today” he bragged, showing off a bottle of something Minah couldn’t even recognize. Some tacky drink she supposed.

“You said we’d never get over 10 without the Delacroix Group behind us” Harry remarked, smiling viciously at Minah.

“Yeah, I remember what I said, Harry, or Henry whichever one of the two you are” She said peering at the bar just behind them “I have no time to reminisce about the past. Today is supposed to be about the future.”

When Minah made it back to where she left Tara and Jane, holding two glasses of mojitos that were practically 90%tequila, none of her friends was to be found and Tyler seemed engrossed in a conversation with Leo Dyson, someone important enough for their business, but a jerk who didn’t how to accept no for an answer.

Minah leaned on a cocktail table checking her phone, waiting for anyone to rescue her from standing around uselessly.

“Nice party, Minah” The incarnation of Minah’s worst nightmare spoke coming from behind her. Ashleigh Hastings materialized, her skinny frame clad in a tacky champagne silk slip dress that Minah would’ve probably used as pajamas in the worst of her days. “I didn’t expect you to invite me”

“And I didn’t expect you to show up” Minah deadpanned. “Especially not with a date” She added wondering where Sungjae was “Cling much?”

“Obsessed much?” Ashleigh sniggered “Why can’t you just accept Sungjae dumped you? Can't you recognize a healthy relationship when you see one?”

“I don’t care the slightest bit about your relationship” Minah said slowly, trying her best to remain collected.

“Good” Ashleigh grinned “You won’t mind Sungjae is taking me on a little vacation along with his family, then” She announced, lips twisting into a snarl. “We’re going to Bristol this weekend"

Minah remained unimpressed although disturbing images of a bleeding heart were now assaulting her mind, “Well, if you even last that long”

“Don’t be bitter” Ashleigh laughed “You must have know that the whole assistant with benefits situation had no future”

“And you think yours it’s fated love?” Minah chuckled, free from any real amusement. “I doubt he recognizes you in broad daylight” Even Minah had to admit that she was surprised at how calm her own voice sounded. She mentally patted herself in the back.

“Look who’s talking” Ashleigh scoffed “Did you ever think that maybe you two never were official because Sungjae didn’t want to be seen with you in public?” That one was a low blow. Not even the alcohol in her system helped deaden the pain crushing Minah’s heart. Suddenly overtaken by the curiosity and doubt, Minah allowed her eyes to scan the place desperately, looking for Sungjae until she found his silhouette —she would’ve recognized Sungjae in a football stadium— inside the house, phone pressed to his ear.

“You know, normally I like to get the last word, but tonight it’s not about personal grudges. It is about business” Minah threw a quick disgusted glance at Ashleigh dress “And despite it all, I hope you’re mature enough to recognize where the future of fashion is” She then turned her back on her, adrenaline going through her veins when she noticed Sungjae moving to another room of the house and with the satisfaction of knowing —without even looking— that Ashleigh was fuming.

“You look like you could use some company” MInah closed the door of one of Tyler’s guest rooms behind her, briefly startling Sungjae who was still on the phone and quickly made an excuse to cut the call.

“What are you doing here?” Sungjae asked, unsure of what was going on and clearly confused by Minah’s presence.

“I could ask the same question” Minah said, expression hardening “I didn’t think you could be this petty, coming to my launch party with Ashleigh”

Sungjae looked down. If Minah knew him as much as she believed she did, he seemed ashamed.

“You’re doing a great job at making me jealous if that’s what you’re trying to” Minah smirked viciously.

“I’m on a date with my girlfriend, this has nothing to do with you, Minah” Sungjae didn’t even look at her, and Minah chose to believe that he didn’t want to risk giving into her. Minah knew exactly how to taunt him and the way she was standing, back against the wall, the straps of her dress barely in place were just too much for him. She knew it.  Not even Sungjae’s rock-solid resolve would be enough to resist her.

“No, you’re doing this to get back at me” Minah insisted, her hands moving to grab Sungjae’s, to which he didn’t refuse. “I know you’re upset about the other day and I’m sorry about it. I really am.”

“I don’t want your apologies” Sungjae muttered, voice hardening although his eyes were fixed on Minah’s body.

“Tell me what do you want, I know whatever it is, I can give it to you” Minah made Sungjae’s hands hold her by the waist and she leaned in to kiss him. They were so close that Minah momentarily worried Sungjae might hear the beating of her heart against her ribs.

But Sungjae pulled away from Minah suddenly, looking angered.

“Stop it, Minah” He shook his head “You’re being ridiculous, sex is not gonna get you out of this one”

“That’s what you’re saying, but your body says otherwise” Minah attempted to draw close to him, but Sungjae gave a step backward.

“Minah, whatever you’re under the impression you’re doing, it’s not gonna happen,” He said firmly “It’s over between us. You didn’t even want a relationship in the first place.” Sungjae pulled the door open.

“You never invited me to spend time with your family” MInah pouted, not even understanding where all those accusations and resentment were coming from.

“And you never introduced me to your family as your boyfriend” Sungjae countered back.

“Because they would’ve fired you” She replied as though it was beyond obvious.

“I could’ve got another job!” Sungjae raised his voice, startling Minah and sending her a sharp eye before turning around to leave.

“Sungjae-“

“Don’t pretend you care now, Minah” cut her off “You didn’t catch feelings overnight”

Minah’s eyes burned but she just dug her nails into her own palms. Somehow hurting herself seemed like a better idea than letting Sungjae see her broke down. “You seriously think I never cared about you?” Minah scoffed offended, pushing past him to leave the room and get back to the party.

Minah bumped into Ashleigh as soon as she stepped into the living room and it was clear that she was looking for Sungjae. That’s exactly why Minah licked her lips and pretended to fix her dress, smirking at the woman when Sungjae walked out of the same room.

Once Minah joins Tara and Jane back in the party, she watches amused how Ashleigh crosses the garden, tears streaming down her face, but the satisfaction is short-lived as she realizes Sungjae is chasing after her. Minah takes another swing of champagne and drags Tara and Jane with her to the dancefloor. The crowd parts for them, leaving the space in the middle of the room.

“I thought you forgot this was meant to be our party” Tyler yells over the music, pressing yet another flute of champagne into her hand.

“I would never, Ty” Minah drinks from the glass without even realizing what it is until she swallows. She stumbles forward into Tyler’s arms and smiles seductively at him, raising her arms and wrapping them around his neck. Then she closes her eyes letting all the haunting memories and hurtful comments from the day wash down with the rain that starts to pang against the fake ceiling, coating the transparent glass with thick raindrops.

...

#oc #story #dynasty au #minah #tyler #jane #tara #sungjae #ashleigh

[wittyy-name]

June’s Seventh Patreon Oneshot is Now Available

As part of the Special Offer I hosted in June, every patron of the $35 tier got to give me a prompt for a oneshot. These oneshots will then be patreon exclusive and available for all patrons for $3 and up. Three more to go.

Prompt: The gang goes camping, Keith and Lance get lost, romance buds between them.

Klance - Camping au - 9,481 words Keith and Lance have a rocky history, and Lance is willing to admit it’s probably his fault. But he’s changed his ways, seen the light, developed a consuming crush, and is now totally ready to woo the pants off of Keith. 

He’s been steadily inching closer over the past few months, but what better time to really buckle down and kiss the boy than a romantic camping trip out in the woods? Granted, their friends are all there, but that’s besides the point. Lance is great at camping, he’s totally going to impress Keith, and Keith will undoubtably swoon into his arms. 

What could possibly go wrong?

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[ EXCERPT... ]

Lance > I hope you’re ready to lose mullet > You’re going down

Keith > What are you talking about?

Lance > CAMPING keith, keep up > I’m gonna beat you at camping so hard

Keith > Camping isn’t a competition, Lance

Lance > Au contraire mon ami > Camping is a TOURNAMENT of competitions

Keith > Did you have to google how to spell that?

Lance > …… > Shut UP KeITH > I’m trying to set the stage here

Keith > Set the stage for what?

Lance > For the camping competition!!

Keith > IF this is a competition, which it isn’t, what makes you so sure you’ll win?

Lance > Because I have YEARS of family camping experience behind me and YEARS of beating my siblings

Keith > Dad and I used to go camping every other weekend

Lance > Oh ho ho > I spy a worthy opponent >:)

Keith > Stop

Lance > >:))))))))

Keith > I’m going to stop replying

Lance > We both know you can’t resist me > ….. > Keith > KEEEEEITH > Buddy stop ignoring me

Lance stares at his phone for a moment longer before huffing, lifting his head to glare at the black car ahead of them. He can just make out the shape of Keith’s messy hair in the backseat of the car. He knows for a fact that Keith is ignoring him just for the hell of it right now. Just to prove a point. Just to get under Lance’s skin.

Well, it’s working.

Two can play this game.

Lance > Keith I s2g > If you keep ignoring me I’m gonna have to do something drastic > Drastic times and drastic measures and all that > This is your last warning > I’ll give you something you can’t ignore >:)

He gives Keith a courteous thirty seconds before slapping his phone down and turning to Hunk, who had been blissfully mouthing along to their patented Best Friend Road Trip Playlist as he drove. “Hunk, speed up.”

He blinks, brows furrowing as he sneaks a sidelong glance at Lance. “What?”

“You heard me. Speed up.”

“Lance, there’s a car in front of me—“

“I know. I need you to pass them. But like, pause right beside them for a second.”

Hunk groans, head falling back against the headrest, it’s a noise that’s long suffering and exasperated, but Lance swears there’s some fondness and acceptance in there, too. He may not know where Lance is going with this, but he sure as hell knows the direction. “What’re you going to do this time?”

Lance doesn’t even try to hide his grin, wide and shameless, alight with mischief. “You’ll see.”

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” he says, but he’s already looking over his shoulder, waiting for the car next to them to pass so he can merge over.

“Hunk, buddy, my man, what’s the fun in road tripping with friends in a caravan if you can’t antagonize the other car when you pass?”

“But I wasn’t planning on passing them.”

“Please?” He asks, eyes wide and lip sticking out in a perfected youngest sibling pout. He leans over the center console, pressing his cheek up against Hunk’s arm. “Pretty please? You know I’d do it for you in a heart beat.”

Hunk glances down at him, a small smile on his lips even as he sighs. “I don’t antagonize our friends like you do.”

“It’s all part of my charm.”

“I say we do it,” Pidge says from the backseat. Matt’s passed out beside her, head flopped back and a thin line of drool sliding down his chin. She’s been lost in playing her Switch, but she sets it aside with the possibility of shenanigans.

“Why do you want to, anyway?” Hunk asks, and Lance huffs, indignant and overly bitter.

“Keith is ignoring me, so I wanna give him something he can’t ignore.”

“Mature,” Pidge says dryly, laced with amusement.

“Shut up, Pidge.”

“Weren’t you going to use this weekend to, and I quote, woo Keith?”

“Yes, and this is all part of my plan.”

“To annoy him?”

“I’m not annoying him!”

“I’m with Lance on this one,” Hunk says, shaking his head with a fond smile. “Keith is pretty blunt about things, and if Lance was actually annoying him, he’d say something about it. Instead he always keeps Lance going, and only ignores him to rile him up.”

“See?” Lance gestures to Hunk, twisting in his seat to scowl at Pidge. “It’s not annoying if Keith finds it endearing.”

“So what’re you gonna do that’s totally not annoying?”

Lance grins at that, and he sees the answering spark of curiosity in Pidge. “You’ll see.”

“Do it, Hunk. I wanna see what Lance has planned.”

And while he doesn’t admit it, Hunk does, too. It’s in the way his smile curls just a fraction wider, eyes glinting with his own brand of mischief and rampant curiosity. “Alright, hold on.”

“Hell yeah!”

As Hunk pulls out into the next Lane, Lance quickly unbuckles his seatbelt. “Whoa, what are you— Lance!” Hunk sneaks quick side long glances at him, eyes wide with shock and mouth hanging open. Behind them, Pidge cackles.

“Just keep going.” He waves a hand at Hunk as he gets up on his knees, turning in his seat to put his back tot he window, crouched on the seat like some sort of gargoyle. “Don’t forget to pause next to them for a second before passing them.”

“Oh my god,” Hunk mutters, gasping as Lance unbuttons his jeans. “Oh my god, Lance! You are not— oh, you so are. I can’t believe this.”

“You can, and you’re encouraging me because you’re still driving.”

“This is amazing,” Pidge gasps through laughter, scrambling to pull her phone out. “Hold on, I’m filming this.”

Hunk speeds up, muttering to himself the whole time but never once indicating that he’s not a hundred percent on board. As they pull up next to Shiro’s car, on the side where Keith is sitting, Lance shoves his thumbs into the waistband of both jeans and underwear, pulling them down and leaning back to press his ass against the window.

He’ll admit, it’s an awkward position. But judging from Pidge’s cackling and declarations of Oh my god, you should see their faces! and Hunk’s own startled laughter, it’s totally worth it.

Then Hunk puts the petal to the metal and speeds past them, merging back into the other lane ahead of Shiro. Only then does Lance pull his pants back up, settling back into his seat and re-buckling his seatbelt.

Pidge leans forward immediately to show him the video, and he relishes the horrified look on Shiro’s face, Adam’s startled laugh from the passenger seat, and Keith’s surprised face from the backseat. Eyes wide. Mouth hanging open. Completely in shock.

Beautiful.

His phone vibrates, and he reaches for it, grinning from ear to ear.

Keith > What the FUCK

Lance > Told you I’d give you something you can’t ignore ;)

Keith > If you think your skinny ass is enough to hold my attention, I’ve got some bad news for you

Lance > >:O !!!!! > RUDE!!!!

Just then, a car pulls past them, and he glances over in time to register that it’s Shiro’s car, and Keith is definitely flipping him off from the backseat.

He can’t help it. He laughs.

“Brilliant woo’ing technique,” Pidge says dryly.

“Thank you.” His chest flutters and squeezes, stomach doing these annoying flips. “I’m gonna get that boy to kiss me during this trip. Mark my words. Operation Impress Keith and Make Him Fall For Me is a go.”

Pidge scoffs, and Hunk reaches out, patting him on the arm. “Good luck, buddy.”

#klance #klance fanfiction #klance fanfic #voltron fanfiction #patreon #wittyywrites #camping au #vld keith #vld lance #lance mcclain #keith kogane

[myfearless-love]

In honor of the Devil himself, 69 for the prompt!

Here you go, Nonnie! 

69. “I know this song.”

(au, kind of, set sometime in s2).

.

Saturday nights are always the busiest in the club, and Hugo Reyes knows that better than almost anyone. Even if he’s the newest employee in Lux, he’s aware how fast his hands need to work in order to successfully serve everyone during the evening.

People are breezing in from all over town, eager to escape their monotonous everyday lives and leave their inhibitions behind. And last but not least, to catch a glimpse of the infamous owner of Lux, Lucifer Morningstar.

Not that it would be that difficult of a job, considering he spends almost every night down in the club, gracing the dance floor with his presence. Once in a while, he pops into the role of the entertainer and hypnotizes the crowd with his exceptional musical skills, and sometimes he just simply wants to loosen up and mingle with people. But even then, not everyone can enjoy and hold his attention for a long time.

Except for the Detective.

Who apparently decided to drop by.

Hugo’s hands are already holding the right ingredients to prepare her favorite drink, but when he sees her steps falter slightly and her hands reach out to balance herself against the wall, his movement stills and he puts down the shaker. Looks like the detective already had a Manhattan. And quite a few of it it seems.

It’s not like the Boss has a rule to stop serving alcohol to the heavily inebriated patrons, but the detective is a lightweight (or so he has been informed) and he’s sure Mr. Morningstar wouldn’t be happy with him if she comes down with alcohol poisoning.

She stumbles to the bar and plops down on one of the stools in front of him, greeting him with a lazy smile before looking over her shoulder, squinting at the dance floor, no doubt trying to locate his boss among the many people moving their bodies to the beat of the music.

Mr. Morningstar spots her before she sees him in one of the booths near the entrance, sandwiched between two scantily clad women who seem rather unhappy that his attention shifted away from them all of a sudden, ignoring their advances in favor of training his eyes on Ms. Decker.

“Detective!” he greets her, shouting over the loud music, lips pulling into a joyful smile and glee sparkling in his eyes.

It always amazes Hugo how spectacularly his demeanor changes when said detective swims into his sight - from fake smiles that don’t quite reach his eyes to full-on white teeth grin.

True happiness, as they say.

Mr. Morningstar weaves his way through the swaying bodies that try to accost him, men and women are drawn to him like a moth to a flame, hands reach after him as he passes by them. But he gives them no mind like he usually does when Ms. Decker is here and Hugo suppresses a knowing smile.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Detective?” he asks when he reaches her by the bar, gesturing to Hugo for another drink. The bartender turns away to prepare his favorite, though he continues to pay attention to the pair.

“Girls' night out,” she replies, her words slightly slurred. “But Maze had a bounty to catch and Linda and Ella exhausted themselves with endless karaoke songs and I had a few cocktails and I just…” she rambles on.

“Didn’t want the party to end? You’ve certainly come to the right place.” Hugo catches his grin as he hands the boss his drink.

“Oh, I know. Apparently, you throw the best parties. I guess I wanted to see what the fuss is about,” she teases, her eyes skimming over the crowded nightclub.

“Ooh, did you know?” Mr. Morningstar quickly hides his stunned expression, replacing it with an impressed one as he looks the detective over with a raised brow. “I’m really enjoying this side of you, Detective! You should let loose more often, it suits you,” he beams at her and downs the rest of his Bourbon.

The detective only smiles, and Hugo swears he can see a slight blush gracing her cheeks. He averts his eyes and turns to a red-head on the other side of the bar who orders a Cosmopolitan. He’s happy for the interruption because he feels, for some reason, that he’s intruding on a very intimate moment.

“I know this song!” he suddenly hears Ms. Decker exclaiming loudly, the excitement in her high-pitched voice is evident as The Bangles starts blaring from the massive speakers.

Which is quite odd, because the Boss usually doesn’t let the appointed DJ play anything from the past millennium. The only times Hugo actually hears any classical or retro music is if Mr. Morningstar is playing them himself on the piano. It’s kind of the only rule they have at Lux.

(And that they must treat Det. Chloe Jane Decker with the utmost respect. Hugo is sure it’s even written in their employment contract somewhere.)

Hugo turns to the pair just in time to see the detective hop off the bar stool and the Boss steadying her by the arms as she slightly loses balance upon landing. Mr. Morningstar gives her a satisfied grin as her eyes sparkle with elation.

Hugo guesses it’s probably one of her favorite songs.

Ms.Decker grabs Mr. Morningstar's shirt sleeves and practically drags him to the dance floor, excited bounce in her steps. His boss seems all too happy to be led by her, though.

When they arrive at her desired spot, she lets go of his arm and starts swaying her body to the music, singing the lyrics into the warm air of the club. Her moves can’t exactly be called graceful and she’s quite overdressed in her black spaghetti strap tank top and skinny jeans, not to mention that her singing is rather off-pitch, but still, Mr. Morningstar is gazing at her as if she just hang the moon and all of the stars known to mankind.

When the Boss eventually rouses from his momentary stupor, he takes her hand and gently yanks her to him, his other arm going over her waist, their bodies flush against one another as they continue to move to the beat. The detective seemingly doesn’t mind the sudden proximity, her mouth pulls into a huge grin, letting out a guffaw as they bounce together to the refrain.

A little crowd has accumulated around them, some of the patrons regarding the pair with an amused smile on their faces, some of them (especially the ladies) are giving the detective daggers with their eyes, jealousy and frustration are their main setting whenever the Boss is ignoring them in favor of entertaining Ms. Decker.

He truly only has eyes for her.

They would really make a cute couple, Hugo thinks.

As another nineties jam comes on and the two carry on with their carefree dancing, the bar is starting to queue up and Hugo has to use those special bartender skills to serve everyone with precision and as fast as possible. His boss is maybe easy-going and probably the best employer he ever had, but he still expects professionalism from his employees, and gawking at him and his love interest probably doesn’t count as such.

When he eventually turns back to the dance floor, he can no longer detect Mr. Morningstar and the Detective among the crowd. The DJ is back on with brand new hit songs and the woo girls have taken over the club again. He finally spots the two near the entrance, Ms. Decker is wearing the Boss’ suit jacket, her arm looped over his as they make their way outside.

Mr.Morningstar returns much, much later, just after the last of the hardcore party people are breezing out into the dawn. The boss gives them no mind as he glides up the stairs with his jacket slung over his shoulder and a somewhat serene look on his face. He gets into the elevator leading up to his penthouse and disappears as the doors close in front of him.

Hugo feels a finger tap his shoulder from behind.

"You owe me twenty bucks,” Partick, one of the bouncers informs him with a smirk.

Hugo sighs and reaches into his pocket, handing his bet partner the bills with a frown.

Damn.

“Told you the Boss doesn’t sleep with anyone if the Detective drops by,” he pats Hugo on the shoulder in a slightly derogatory manner. “You’re just new. Don’t worry, you’ll get it, eventually.”

Hugo shakes his head and watches as a portion of his hard-earned tips walks away.

Eventually, he will get it.

.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19206229/chapters/46443655

#my fics #lucifer #lucifer fanfic #deckerstar #deckerstar fanfic #prompts #deckerstar drabble #lucifer drabbles #lucifer ff #deckerstar ff

[drawingsanddrabbles]

Scandals Stick Together

ao3

Prompt: No Capes AU - First Kiss

Woo! I did it! All seven days, hell yeah!

~~~

Tim thinks that if the room was any more glittery he'd probably be having a seizure. He can't help but wonder if the many chandeliers in the room are real diamond. Bruce only uses crystal in his. 

Bruce's hand closes on Tim's shoulder and Tim's eyes flutter closed for a moment. He wishes Bruce's hand was his dad's. But his dad is in a coma, he reminds himself. It's not his fault that he can't be here to work Tim through his first professional gala. 

"Hey there, Timmy." Bruce says with a smile just as glittery as the rest of the room. "It's good to see you at one of these!"

"Bruce, good to see you too."

"Have you thought any further about my offer?" 

"To buy Drake Industries?" Or the other offer? Tim wonders. The one where he offered Tim to move in with him and Alfred. To work at Wayne Enterprises. To become Tim's legal guardian while his father is still in a coma.

Social workers are terrified to touch Tim's case, and as long as Tim keeps paying them to push it to the bottom of the pile they never will. But it's getting expensive. He can't push it off forever, and having Bruce Wayne as his legal guardian wouldn't be so bad. His other strays seemed to have done well--well, Dick anyway. 

Tim is losing hold on Drake Industries. Every since the plane crash stock has been going down. It's going to crash soon. News of the buyout could, frankly, make it go either way at this point. If Tim agrees he'll have nothing to lose.

But it's the last thing he has of his parents. Dad.... Dad's probably never going to wake up. 

"I told you, I have no interest in selling. I am going to bring Drake Industries out of the ground, you know I can." It's not totally a lie. Bruce does know how competent Tim is. He knows that Tim, if he dropped out of high school, got emancipated, and managed to convince his company that a fifteen year old CEO is a good idea, could do it. If he really tried. 

But Tim's tired. He's so tired. 

Bruce knows that Lois Lane is watching the two of them too closely for Tim's comfort. One word from her and his stock price plummets, and Tim can lose everything. 

Bruce's eyes slide to Clark Kent who sits next to her. He's only focused on Luthor--as always--so even if he did catch something they're saying he wouldn't care, or he'd be nice enough about it that he might actually tick DI up a few points in the stock market. 

Bruce lets out a big belly laugh (one that Tim can tell is fake) and slaps Tim on the shoulder. Not hard enough to hurt. 

"Well, you know, if you ever need anything, Kid. Come straight to me." He says with an easy smile and he ruffles Tim's (meticulously gelled) hair. But Tim takes that for exactly what he knows Bruce means. They'll talk about this later. Bruce walks backwards away from him with a wave. "Let's do lunch!"

"Yeah," Tim mumbles, a little pink from the way people are now staring at him, "let's." 

Bruce goes off to flirt with Lois and (probably, from the way Mr. Kansas City has turned bright red) Clark, which leaves Tim some reprieve from endless questions about his future for the company. Tim's hair is now sticking up in a non-artful way so he narrowly dodges old white rich folks and their perfectly made up children as he weaves his way to the bathroom.

He's not the only one fixing his hair it seems, as two other men are as well. One is a boy a little older than him and (presumably) his father. Both of whom are trying to hide that they are watching Tim out of the corners of their eyes. 

As Tim turns his back on them to leave (although he can clearly see them in the reflection on the shiny eco-friendly heat dryer) the father leans over to his son and whispers: "That's Tim Drake. He's acting chair of his company and he's going to lose it to that Wayne idiot in a few weeks. Read it in Forbes."

Tim ignores the way his cheeks turn red and rushes out of there as fast as he can. 

Tim hates the way people look at him now. Ives feels sorry for him, but that's because Ives actually cares about him. The fake way these people do, makes him want to snatch a champagne flute from one of the servers and down it. But really the last thing he needs is to get drunk or tipsy, to say the wrong word in a room filled with piranhas who have diamond teeth and lose everything before he ever gets a chance to earn it back. 

Mrs. Powers corners him (old Gotham money, he tells himself) and starts with condolences (as they always do) before moving onto the obligatory "How's your father doing?" ("Well! Doctors just want him to stay a little more for observation but he'll be up and about in no time!" He says,) then to "do you need anything, darling?" ("Fuck you too Mrs. Powers," he doesn't say). 

Tim doesn't know when exactly he gets surrounded by old rich women, but suddenly they're engulfing him. None of them squeeze his cheeks like they used to, or pat his head, or try to straighten his tie (he hopes that one's because it's still straight but he knows that's probably not the case). Instead they keep distance from him. He's no longer a child of a rival but the rival himself (the floundering rival, perhaps). They're not treating him as an equal so much as something diseased to excise. 

He misses the days when he could just blend in next to his father's side or, at least, hang out with the other rich kids. Wow them with his knowledge (and the thrill) of living in Gotham. 

Tim passes the drink counter (under which he's positive Winston Price the Third and Jennifer Wallaby are making out, because last gala, when he was one of them, Winston had told him he planned to do just that next time he saw her) and orders a soder despite what he really wants. The waiter laughs at him but cuts it out with a glare from Tim and gets him what he ordered. 

He wishes that Luthor would just get on with the dinner part of the night. He was too nervous to eat all day and now he's starving. Also, prearranged seating means people will stop coming up to him to show him they care. 

"Tim Drake, I am shocked to see you here," speak of the devil... "shouldn't you be caring for your father?" 

Luthor knows. Luthor has always known, just as Tim has. His father isn't waking up, no matter what Tim manages to fool the rest of the world into thinking. 

Lex Luthor smirks and Tim turns around. He plasters what he hopes is a Bruce Wayne brand smile on his face. "Mr. Luthor!" He covers his eyes and squints, as if the sun is blinding him. "Good to see you!"

Luthor frowns slightly. "Are... you feeling alright, Mr. Drake?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, it's just," Tim lowers his voice and leans closer to Luthor as if he is telling a secret, "with all these lights, your head is just blinding me." Luthor's lips turn into a pale line. "Really, I think you might want to see a doctor about your perspiration, it's so.... shiny. I'm sure my father's doctor would love to offer some... discreet suggestions."

The snicker behind Luthor almost makes Tim drop his hand. Luthor whips around. Ah yes, and there is the boy that made Tim's takeover of DI old news. 

Conner Luthor. Appeared, as if from nowhere, just after everything from Haiti was settled. The de facto heir to Lex Luthor. Being trained to succeed him, but who's training wasn't even close to succeeding. 

Partier, playboy, and very hot. Luthor's polar opposite. Also, the same age as Tim. 

"Conner, maybe you should carry this conversation with Tim, after all you two have more in common than I do with him." A dig at his youth, lovely.

But before Tim can bite anything back, Conner says in a flippant way: "Well, beauty before age. Isn't that the saying?"

So the rumors are true, they don't seem to be able to stand each other. 

Careful, Tim, he warns himself, cute boys with sparkling smiles might be more than they appear. 

"Lex! How wonderful to see you!" A familiar voice hums behind Luthor, snapping the tension building. The singsong voice can only be Bruce. 

Tim wonders if Bruce has been watching him. Tim doesn't need his help. He doesn't want his help. He just wants to go home. 

Luthor grimaces at Bruce. "Wayne."

"Say, is this your son?" Bruce asks, turning his attention on Conner. He sticks out a hand. "Good to meet you, chum!" Bruce flashes a grin at Lex, "And they call me a playboy. Wow, she must have been a looker, huh, Lex?"

Luthor looks as though he might combust. Conner doesn't take the bait or the hand (he's been famously tight-lipped about his other parent and life before he took on the Luthor name). Conner glares at Bruce. Tim notices that Luthor hasn't convinced him to get rid of the earring for tonight (one more scandal to add to the Conner Luthor package) and wishes he hadn't. He doesn't have time to notice these things. He has to network. To try and dig himself back into a good light for the sake of his company. 

But Bruce, in his blundering and self-focused way, has managed to give Tim a way to slip out of this interaction. All eyes are on Bruce. 

Tim used to have a theory that Bruce was smarter than he appeared. His father had told him that was stupid. Sometimes, Tim thought he was right, but ever since he'd gotten to know Bruce he'd understood his mistake. So he gratefully takes the exit Bruce offers. 

He can't hide, but he wants to. He really wants to.

Thankfully, though it seems that it's time for the dinner part of the gala to begin and everyone and their drinks are ushered into the next room. 

Tim is seated at table nineteen with eight other people who only represent five different companies. Tim sits next to the daughter of a mogul on his left and the son of a different one on his right and it's clear to everyone that the artful Mr. Timothy Drake (Drake Industries) on his place card is just a courtesy. Everyone knows where he really belongs. 

Luthor stands and begins his speech which Tim tries really hard to listen to but gets bored. He knows the gist of it, new tech, bringing Metropolis into the future, thank you for coming, etc etc etc. 

Tim's eyes travel to Conner's seat at table number one, and finds that he's not there. Of course not, probably ditching. 

Tim wishes he could ditch. He knows that the teens on either side of him will find one of their go-to excuses after a respectable amount of dinner and go up to one of the balconies or the roof to drink and smoke and play spin the bottle and other things their parents wouldn't approve of, before making their way back down by dessert and leaving completely respectably, none of the parents the wiser. Tim knows this because Tim used to do just that. 

Despite that Tim hasn't eaten all day his salad just doesn't look that appetizing anymore. 

"So, Timothy, I'm so sorry to hear about your parents. Who are you staying with?" The old lady across from him asks. The speech has ended and everyone has begun their first course. He can feel heat rising to his cheeks. None of his family members wanted him. 

"Myself. I have an attorney for general legal issues but I can live on my own until my father can come home."

"What a smart young lad you are!" The father of the girl on his right says. 

"And so well organized too! I can't imagine my Peter running my company at his age." The father of the boy on his left says. The kid himself looks like he would give anything not to be there right then, Tim agrees. 

"Well, I just worry. It's so difficult to be a deciding factor in a company's decisions and for one so young-why, it must bore you to death!"

Don't tell them anything they can use, Tim reminds himself, lie. 

"Really, it's a piece of cake."

"Well then!" The other adults (read: vultures) around the table seem delighted. 

"Well he may not be bored," one of the younger people at the table says, he's the head of some start-up or another, "but I'm sure we don't want to bore the other kids with this table talk. How is your dog, Miranda? I heard she was sick?" And from there the conversation, thankfully, is led away from the topic of Tim and Drake Industries. The girl next to Tim begins going on about how her teacup poodle has cancer or something and Tim fazes out again. 

Just after the soup course is served Miranda explains to her father that she's having some "lady problems" and might be a while. At the end of it Peter tells his father that he thinks he sees Conner Luthor over by that way, would it be alright if he says hi? (Tim glances over, and Conner isn't there). He's excused as well with a chortling: "Already networking! What an entrepreneurial spirit, that one!" 

By the meat course Tim is losing his mind. The Start-Up Guy tries valiantly to steer the conversation away from Tim's parents but eventually even he is overwhelmed by rich old people and Tim has to repeat the same lies he's been saying for days now. 

It's only once Miranda's father says that Tim might have been a good match for her, if only he were a little older that Tim decides to excuse himself with a 'phone call' from work. Something these people will understand. 

Tim makes it all the way out of the ballroom, and then he decides to push his luck and go looking for some people his own age. 

Since breaking down in a bathroom isn't an option (old rich people use bathrooms too), Tim decides that he might be able to find himself a secluded area where the kids are. 

It's not hard to find them. They're in a much smaller ballroom on the second floor of the Luthor Concert Hall. There's a balcony, Tim knows, he's been here before. 

Rock music blares and can be felt outside the room. Tim used to think that them playing music that loudly was a challenge to their parents: catch us. But now Tim understands it for what it is, just loud music. 

Tim opens the door and a son of an African CEO hands him a joint. Tim wants to, but like so many things lately, he can't. He can't risk it. 

The kid just shrugs, and lights it himself. 

The room smells like smoke: all sorts. Tim spies some beers some of them smuggled in, and some wines from the receiving hall downstairs. His eyes snag on the champagne, but it's the cognac that he really wants. 

"Traitor." Someone says to his left. He turns. It's Joseph. His dad is COO for Maxie Zeus. It's good natured, Tim knows, because Joseph is smiling. "I thought we weren't going to turn into our parents." 

"Didn't have much of a choice."

"Bullshit." Lucy says from Joseph's side. "Let them go belly up and cash out."

"My Dad's going to pick the company back up in a bit." This is the last thing Tim wants, he came up here to stop talking about DI. People are starting to watch him. He can see Conner eating Miranda's face in the corner of the room. 

"How'd you even swing it anyway?" Ha Joon asks. 

"Yeah, aren't social services up your ass?"

"Guys, leave him alone." He hears Tam Fox say. She's always had his back. 

"What happens in Gotham stays in Gotham." Preston snipes. 

"Be nice!" Lucy says. 

"What about school?" Peter asks. 

There's enough of a lull in the interrogation that Tim answers with a shrug and scuffs his shoe against the tile floor. "I'm dropping out." This causes more of an uproar than anything else. 

"No way!"

"God, my Mom would kill me if I dropped out."

"Kill you? My Dad would disown me!"

"Only disown? Wow, your parents are uncreative. There's more than one way to skin a kid that's for fucking sure."

It doesn't occur to any of them that Tim wouldn't have to drop out if his father really was doing okay. 

"Seriously?" Tam asks. Clearly Lucius hadn't told her. Because Tim had told Bruce and there was no way that Bruce hadn't told Lucius. 

"Yeah, seriously." Tim says. 

"What's the big deal? I dropped out." Conner Luthor says with a shrug and all eyes turn towards him. 

"Did you really?" Lucy asks. 

"I mean, I basically did. I never go anyway."

"Ah, young grasshopper. We all don't go to school. But it takes some special cajones to drop out." Vido says. 

"What's the difference?" Conner asks. 

"See, don't go to school and your Dad just pays the administration office to keep it quiet. Drop out and he pays the reporters to keep it out of the newspapers." Preston tells him. 

Conner cocks a wicked eyebrow. "And if he pays both?" 

Everyone listening shakes with laughter. "Then you must have done something really bad," Lucy says, eyes traveling up and down Conner as if only now sizing him up. Conner languishes in the attention from her and Miranda who is staring at him like he's a god. Conner winks at Lucy and Tim feels a little sick. The smoke swirls around Tim's head, making it swim.

“What about that girl of yours? What was her name… Ariana?” Peter asks. “Did you ever get that first kiss?” 

“My parents were held hostage and my mom died.” Tim says more harshly than he means to. He needs some fresh air. 

Tim heads to the balcony but before he gets there Tam grabs his arm. "Hey, how are you really doing? Really?"

Tim grimaces. "What happens in Gotham stays in Gotham, right?"

Tam looks disappointed but she doesn't push and Tim opens the balcony doors. 

The night is cool which is good against his burning cheeks. He wants to rip off the monkey suit. The tie itches and the gel is making his hair feel greasy and his feet hurt and he's still a little hungry. All these little things are coming up and bashing him in the face now. 

"You really from Gotham?" Conner Luthor asks from behind him, making Tim jump. 

"Yeah." He says. 

"Rad." He says which makes Tim laugh even though it shouldn't. Conner grins at him. "So, a kid CEO, huh? Didn't know that was possible."

"It's not. Not really. But I'm trying." (And failing, he doesn't say. Again, it doesn't seem to occur to Conner that it wouldn't matter whether he fails or not, if his father is coming back.) 

"No one's given you shit about being bisexual?" Conner asks. 

"What? I'm not-"

"Oh. Sorry, I just assumed since they said about that Ariana chick and the way you look at me so-"

"I don't-Not you-!"

Conner snorts. "Please, I'm scandalous, not blind."

Tim shuts his mouth abruptly. "What do you want?" Tim asks in a low voice. Conner must be spying on him, there's no way Lex would give up this information. 

"Nothing!" Conner frowns. "Why should I want anything?"

So that was how he wanted to play it. Tim frowns. "I should probably head back down-" He says but when he turns around to go back into the room he finds the balcony door is locked. 

Tim tries not to cry. This can't be happening. It can't- He has to be able to get back down to the party, he-! 

"Locked out?" Conner asks. 

Tim leans his forehead on the door. He wants to die. 

Conner leans over him and bangs on the door but the music is loud enough that no one hears him. 

Conner scowls. "Well I guess now you're stuck out here with me."

"I'm screwed." Tim says in disbelief. They'll be locked out here forever, and even if they aren't it doesn't matter. Coming up here in the first place was a stupid thing to do. Ten more minutes is enough to ruin whatever reputation he has left downstairs. 

Maybe he should just accept Bruce's offer. Whatever he'll get for Drake Industries will be more than whatever it's worth. 

Tim feels tears leak from his eyes. He rubs at them angrily. He's going to lose everything. Every part of his parents, of his Dad.... Mom... 

"Hey, it's not so bad! I promise! I'm less annoying than I seem at first impression!" Conner says hastily. Tim wipes at his face but he's sobbing now. 

"I-It's not you. It's not-It's not- I'm not-" but he can't say anything without the words coming out as a garbled mess. 

Conner, confused and worried, tries to comfort him by putting a hand on his back. Tim pushes him away. "Hey, it's okay." Conner says. He pulls Tim into a hug anyway. 

"I'm going to lose everything." Tim tells him, words spilling out of his mouth. He'll accept Bruce's offer tonight. The paperwork will be done before they get home to Gotham and it won't matter what Conner tells Luthor because it'll already be done. "My company... everything my parents worked so hard for... it's going to be gone. I'm going to lose the last of them."

"But... I thought your father was getting better..." Conner says. Then he realizes what Tim's been hiding. "He's not getting better, is he?" 

Tim shakes his head. His shoulders tremble. Conner holds him tight and he cries into Conner's shirt--soaking it. 

Tim tells him everything. From Bruce's offer for the company to his offer of fatherhood. Conner listens silently, rubbing Tim's back and nodding. When Tim finally calms down, Conner presses his lips to the top of Tim's head. The kiss so fleeting Tim wonders if he imagined it. "You're going to be okay. You at least have Bruce Wayne, don't you? And don't lose hope, stranger things have happened. Your father could wake up."

"And if he does, I'll have sold his company away, don't think that he'll be happy about that." 

"He'll be happy enough that he's alive and so are you."

You don't know my father, Tim wants to tell him. But he doesn't. 

Conner wipes his thumb across Tim's tear-streaked face. "I don't even know why I told you all of that."

"I've got a listener's face." He says.

Tim snorts. "Yes, exactly. That's what everyone says about you. Lex's infamously obedient child."

Conner winks. "Only for cute boys. Lex can screw himself." 

Tim raises an eyebrow. "Really?" The mysterious boy, who came from nowhere, heir to a fortune and company whose CEO he looked nothing like. Tim likes mysteries. Always did. 

And then there was the cute boy comment. Tim tries not to think about that one too hard. 

"Isn't that what the tabloids say?" Conner asks. He spreads his hands out in a half-shrug. 

"Guess I never really believed they really knew anything about you. Not that they really know anything about you."

"I'm a man of mystery." Conner shrugs uncomfortably.

"Clearly." Tim raises an eyebrow. "Come on, tell me something about yourself. Anything. I told you my entire life story."

"Uh uh. That's my business to keep." Conner says shaking his head, arms crossed over his chest. Tim sighs, but supposes that is his right.

Of course, without DI on his plate he can go back to his amatur conspiracy theorist detective work. Maybe he'll figure it out on his own. 

Tim sizes Conner up. Yeah, he can figure it out.  Conner's a teenager, and he exists which means he had to come from somewhere. He wasn't just born fifteen. Made in some lab. 

"Yeah," Tim agrees though, "that's fair."

Conner nods. There's a knock on the door and both boys jump as Tam pokes her head out. 

"Tim? Dad's says you better get back downstairs, Mr. Lord is saying some pretty nasty things about your father and Bruce is doing what he can but-"

"Thanks, Tam. I'll head down now." Tim tells her. 

She looks from him to Conner suspiciously. "Gothamites stick together," is her veiled response, her glare at Conner showing what she really wants to say. 

She leans back into the room and Tim just barely catches the door before it locks the two of them out again. 

"Wow. Tell us how you really feel." Conner grumbles at her back. 

Tim turns back to Conner. "Thanks. For... not being weirded out by me sobbing into your silk shirt." (Which is now ruined by the way, he doesn't say.)

"Hey, scandals stick together, right?" Conner offers with a quick grin. 

Tim smiles back and turns to leave when Conner grabs him by the hand. "Hey, wait-!"

Tim turns just as Conner bends down to kiss his lips gently. Tim is too stunned to react as Conner pushes past him into the room. His first kiss and it’s with a Luthor. "Text me next time you want to vent. Listening face." He says, pointing to said face to emphasize his point. "Wayne's got my number. I think." Then he disappears into the party. 

Tim watches him go, shocked. He's standing there so long, mouth open, that Luke walks past him at some point and he says: "I thought Tam told you what Dad said? You going back downstairs?" 

Which restarts Tim and he rushes downstairs, cheeks pink. 

~~~

"Well?" Lex asks as he and Conner sit in the limo back to the penthouse. "Learn anything useful from that Drake boy?"

Conner stares out the black tinted windows, watching as the streetlights zoom past and trying not to think about how Tim's lips had felt pressed against his. "Not a thing. Didn't even show up to the kid party like you said he would." 

Lex narrows his eyes at his son. "I see." 

Conner just shrugs. "Better luck next time."

#diana writes timkon #timkonweek #timkon week #timkon week 2019 #timkon week: day 7 #diana writes dc

[im-fairly-whitty]

The Way You Keep Me Guessing: Coco Teacher!AU

[Part 1: Unexpected Responsibility] [Part 2: La Directora] [Part 3: Skipping Class] [Part 4: An Unannounced Visitor] [Part 5: The Roommate] [Part 6: Día de Muertos (Pt. 1)] [Part 7: Dia de Los Muertos (Pt.2)]

Dating Flashback: Part 1--First Date

“Ernesto please, I’m begging you hermano, you can’t betray me like this!” Héctor said desperately.

“If you can’t learn to tie your own tie then you don’t deserve to wear one.” Ernesto said, tapping shaving cream off his razor against the side of the bathroom sink, unaffected by Héctor’s pleading. “You’re twenty-six Héctor, it’s time you acted like it.”

“Please? It’ll only take you a second, you’re the one that’s always bugging me to buy a new one.” Héctor looked at the brand-new blue and purple strip of cloth in his hands, the stupid thing had been defeating his efforts for nearly half an hour. “Imelda’s going to be at the Christmas party and I want to make a good impression.”

“The ice queen next door?” Ernesto raised his eyebrow, continuing to scrape away at his five o’clock shadow. “I thought I told you to leave that one alone Teto, you’re only going to get frostbite if you go after her.”

“No, no, no, she’s not ice,” Héctor said, leaning against the bathroom wall at the very thought of La Directora. “she’s fire. Looking at her is like being in the glory of the sun.”

“Well, I guess that explains why you’ve gone blind then.” Ernesto scoffed, rinsing his razor in the sink, then wiping his face off with a towel. He sighed as he dried his hands. “Give me the tie.”

“Muchas gracias!” Héctor said, eagerly handing it over.

Héctor stood still, bending a little so Ernesto could loop the tie over his head. In a moment, the piece of fabric had been charmed into place and Ernesto slid the knot up into place.

“Next time you tie it yourself.” Ernesto said, poking Héctor in the chest, “It’s an important part of being a man, and you’ll have to be a man if you’re going to get yourself a woman, claro?”

“Sí, sí, claro.” Héctor said, leaning over Ernesto’s shoulder to look in the small bathroom mirror. “Should I put something in my hair do you think?”

“Who are you and where is Héctor?” Ernesto said, jaw slack in mock surprise, “What has the ice queen done to you? Should I be launching an intervention?”

“She’s so amazing Ernesto,” Héctor said, “she’s just, just, she’s like that feeling when you’re staring up at the night sky, and you suddenly realize how small you are.” Héctor sighed, unconsciously pulling on his tie. “But somehow you’ve still got this thrill going through you at just with how beautiful it all is and you get to be part of it, even if the universe hasn’t noticed yet.”

“You’d better cool it with the astronomy metaphors.” Ernesto chuckled, slapping Héctor’s hand away from the tie, then reaching for his aftershave. “Isn’t that how you lost Isabella?”

“Who? Oh, Isabella? No, no, this is completely different.”

“Yeah, sure. That’s what you always say.” Ernesto rolled his eyes as he rubbed some aftershave across his face. “You sure you don’t want to just come clubbing with me tonight? You’ll have a much better chance of getting some action than at your staff Christmas party.”

“It’ll be fun, it’s at that trendy new karaoke bar that just opened a few blocks away. I’m already planning on showing up late anyway, I’ve got papers to grade. Don’t you have work tonight?”

“Eh, I’m going to call in sick.” Ernesto said, closing the medicine cabinet. “It’s not like the record store really needs me when I only come in once a week anyways.”

“Why do you even work there if you don’t actually work there?” Héctor asked, reaching around Ernesto and grabbing his toothbrush.

“Networking amigo,” Ernesto said grandly, shouldering him aside to get a closer look at his mustache in the mirror. “All the weird indie hipsters need their vinyl, our gig next weekend is from a regular.”

“I’m still not sure how I feel about that.”

“Well you sure weren’t complaining the last time we had groceries.” Ernesto said, “Maybe you can ask your ice queen for a raise when you sweep her off her feet tonight.”

“Hmmmmm, maybe.” Héctor said through a mouthful of toothpaste foam. He could just imagine sweeping Imelda off her feet, her arms around his neck, her beautiful rare smile on her face, her-

“Héctor.” Ernesto said, snapping his fingers in Héctor’s face.

“What?” Héctor said, startled out of his thoughts.

“Just don’t get fired tonight alright?” Ernesto scoffed, a perfectly manicured eyebrow raised as he walked past Héctor and out of the small bathroom, “You getting some action with your boss isn’t going to be worth it if I have to pick up extra shifts because you lost your paycheck.”

“Don’t worry about it, tonight’s just going to be some friendly conversation over some drinks,” Héctor said, waving off Ernesto. “It’s all a part of my long-term plan to woo her. She’s a goddess Ernesto, you can’t win a diosa in an evening.”

“Whatever.” Ernesto called from the kitchen. “Just don’t have too much fun making small talk and singing off-key pop songs with your coworkers.”

But Héctor didn’t pay him any attention, once again becoming lost in thought as he resumed brushing his teeth. He knew it was his wildest of wild dreams, but what if something did happen between him and Imelda tonight? You just never knew with great romances, and he’d already decided that he and Imelda were going to be one of the greatest.

Now if only he could get her to think so too.

***

And you had BETTER have fun tonight, hermana.

Imelda sighed, looking up from Ceci’s text as she pulled the keys out of her car’s ignition.

I’m still their boss Ceci, she typed back, and you know I hate these party things.

Imelda leaned back in her seat, sighing. The dark December evening outside made the gaudy blue neon lights of the karaoke bar seem extra bright. She’d known assigning the staff Christmas party to Señora Rodriguez had been a mistake, By the time Imelda had found out this year’s party wasn’t going to be the usual subdued get-together at someone’s house, it had been too late for her to do anything about it.

Imelda squinted at the bar’s sign: Poco Loco.

Well. At least the place looked clean.

Imelda’s phone buzzed.

WHICH IS WHY YOU NEED TO LOOSEN UP. Ceci text-yelled.

NO, it’s why I should go home right now. Imelda texted back. Of course she would never actually skip an official work event, but it felt good to let out at least some of her anxiety on Ceci. What am I supposed to do, socialize?

This is a direct order to have at least three drinks tonight. Ceci buzzed back. No arguments. Relax and have some fun tonight Imelda, you need this.

Imelda groaned and leaned her head back against the seat, a small whine of despair escaping her in the strict privacy of her car. She knew Ceci was right, she was always right about social things, but it didn't make the fact that parties were completely structureless and unpredictable any easier to bear.

FINE. She texted back, But if anything terrible happens I’m blaming you.

I will gladly accept that responsibility. Now get in there and party, amiga. <3

Imelda grabbed her purse from the passenger’s seat and dropped her phone into it. If this were a board meeting she’d be nothing but confidence. If this were an interview she’d know exactly what to say. So why not a party? She was a grown woman, she could handle this.

She closed the car door behind her a little harder than necessary, but the power of the movement felt good. Imelda held her head high as she approached the bar’s entrance, but paused for just a moment before going in, scanning the parking lot.  

There were three motorcycles parked in the corner of the lot, but none of them looked familiar.

Well, in that case, she was going to knock back the very first shot of alcohol she saw. He hadn’t come last year either, and as long as Imelda didn’t have to be on her guard around him, then she could stand to have the edge taken off her nerves as soon as possible.

***

Héctor huffed as he popped out the kickstand on his motorcycle, tilting it to the side in its parking spot in front of the karaoke bar. Why was he always late to everything? He only lived a couple blocks away, but by the time he’d finished grading his papers and gotten away from Ernesto’s repeated offer to change his plans, the evening was already nearly over.

He pulled off his motorcycle helmet and locked it to his bike, shaking his bangs out of his eyes. Well, being late was fashionable right? He just had to hope Imelda thought the same.

Which he already knew she didn’t, she was always exactly on time to everything. But who knew, maybe she was different about parties?

Héctor popped a mint into his mouth and smiling at his own reflection in the glass entrance doors before swinging them open. Parties like this were his comfort zone, he wouldn’t have to think too hard, just flow with the energy of the group as things wound down and have a good time while doing his best to catch Imelda’s attention. Easy.

He only made it a few steps into the noisy bar before someone slung an arm around his neck.

“Ay, Héctor!” Jose, the seventh-grade biology teacher, said. “Thought you weren’t coming amigo, we’re all getting ready to head out!”

“Jose, what’d I miss?” Héctor smiled, cocking finger guns at him. “Glad to see the party started even without me.”

“Héctor, you have no idea,” Jose grinned, pulling out his phone and swiping through his pictures, “you know how you missed last year’s party when La Directora nearly got tipsy?”

“Sí, how could I not, it’s all you guys talked about for a month.” Héctor scoffed, forcing a smile.

He’d missed his first staff Christmas party for a gig with Ernesto, but had come back to a slew of jokes made about at Imelda’s expense. Mostly good-natured of course, La Directora was still La Directora after all, but somehow Héctor had never quite found them funny. At all.

“Right!” Jose chuckled, holding up a picture on his phone for Héctor to see, “well this year we’ve all gone in on getting her plastered, you know, buying her drinks for being such a great boss, and it’s totally working.”

Héctor reached to take the phone, but before he could take a closer look, someone grabbed his other hand. He looked up, dropping Jose’s phone when he saw who it was.

Hair down, cheeks flushed, and eyes bright, was Imelda. Holding his hand and smiling.

“You weren’t coming!” She exclaimed brightly.

“I, uh.” Héctor said, staring down at her.

Her hand was soft and warm in his, and everything inside him jolted when, with absolutely no warning, Imelda put her other hand on his chest.  

“Your tie,” she said, pulling at the strip of cloth to look at it very closely. “It’s soooo pretty...”

Héctor stiffened in visceral shock as she leaned against him, feeling at least five years instantly shave off his lifespan. She was still staring at his tie like it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen.

“See?” Jose said, sounding like he was close to tears with restrained laughter as he picked up his phone off the floor, “Isn’t this the greatest thing you’ve ever seen?”

“How many drinks has she had?” Héctor said, forcing words through a windpipe that felt like it had entirely closed up.

“At least three for sure, but probably around five.” Jose gasped out, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “This is priceless.”

Héctor had practiced over and over again the smooth conversation he’d start with Imelda, probably at the bar counter, probably as she tried to ignore him. He’d even equipped himself with several suitably cheesy pickup lines in case things went even better than he’d expected.

He had not prepared himself for what to do if Imelda snuggled up to him within two minutes of his arrival. He was sure his brain had been in his head when he’d walked through the door, but now there was only flustered panic between his ears.

“Señor Rivera,” Imelda said seriously, looking up at him, her face dizzyingly close to his. “This is a karreeeeokee bar and you sing right? Sing, okay?”

Héctor gingerly put his hands on her shoulders as he took a step back, praying she wouldn’t fall over. Her words sounded odd, slurring just a bit.

“How about we get you some water, eh Directora?” He said, looking around the bar helplessly, “Some food? That’ll help get the alcohol out of your system.”

“We’ve already tried, she’s wasted Héctor,” Jose said, shaking his head and pulling a jacket off the coat rack near the door. “We didn’t think she’d get this plastered so fast.”

“Ayyyyye, you’re not leaving already?” Héctor said, feeling the rising panic in his chest solidify as he saw several of his coworkers waving and laughing as they made their way out the door.

“Lo siento Héctor, that’s what happens when you come late. My kids have futbol practice in the morning.” Jose shrugged, then glanced at Imelda.

“You’re sooo taaaall.” Imelda crooned, reaching up for Héctor’s hair, but he caught her wrist just in time.

This was it. This was what was going to kill him. He was going to die in a trendy karaoke bar after being abandoned by his co-workers.

“Hey Héctor, you two live nearby right? You mind getting her home safe?” Jose said, his amusement sobering long enough to show his concern.

“Sure, I’ve got it.” Héctor said automatically, kicking himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth. If there was ever a time to say no, this should have been it.

“Muchas gracias.” Jose said, looking relieved as his amusement came back and he ducked out the door. “See you two on Monday!”

A small whine of fear escaped Héctor as he watched the last of his co-workers disappear out the door. The bar was still fairly busy, but Héctor felt as abandoned as if it were empty.

He jolted when he felt fingers sliding up his chest and automatically caught Imelda’s other wrist.

“Ah, Imelda...” Héctor looked down at her, her big brown eyes were so close to his that he found himself desperately wishing he had his glasses on for the first time in months. “Let’s get you home, alright? You look like you could use some sleep. And a lot of Tylenol in the morning.”

“I’mnotired.” She slurred, squinting at her surroundings. “But, okaaaay.”

Héctor released her wrists, but cringed as she fished a set of keys out of her purse, weaving slightly, like she might still fall over.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Héctor gingerly but quickly eased the car keys from her grasp. There was no way he was letting her near a steering wheel in this condition.

“Hey,” Imelda tried and failed to jerk the keys back from him, “don’t! I can fire you you know, I’m your boss.”

“Sí, sí,” Héctor said, stuffing the keys into his back pocket for safekeeping and then holding up his empty hands, “but you’re way too drunk to drive Imelda, why don’t I walk you home instead? Our complex isn’t far, and it’s a lovely night.”

He had no idea what he would do if she refused, in this state he wouldn’t even trust her on the back of his motorcycle.

Imelda considered him for a long moment. Her annoyed stare would have made Héctor think she was sober again if she weren’t also leaning heavily against the back of a nearby chair.

“No.” She declared with finality, giving her head an exaggerated shake. “you’re going to walk me home. I think I....might be a little drunk.”

“That sounds like a great plan,” Héctor sighed in relief. He ever-so-gently put a hand on her shoulder, steering her towards the doors. “I’d be happy to walk you home.”

“I’m just, I just hate parties you know?” Imelda said as they walked out into the cool night air.

“Oh, they aren’t always so bad.” Héctor said.

He let the bar door swing shut behind him, cutting off the rowdy chatter inside. There was a whole universe of a starry sky above them, and the endless night horizon in every direction.

“Yeah they are,” Imelda said, laughing a little as she tried for the third time to get her purse strap up onto her shoulder. “I only went because your stupid motorcycle was gone and Ceci said it was an order. ”

Héctor nearly asked what she meant, but just shook his head, following close by her side as they set off. Anything she said at this point would be tipsy rambling anyway, he just had to get her down five blocks of sidewalk without stepping into traffic was all, and by Monday this would just be a funny story to tell in the breakroom.

“I’m so tired.” Imelda said, coming to a halt so suddenly he nearly walked into her.

“Which is why we’re getting you home, so you can sleep.” Héctor said reassuringly, gently nudging her forward, “We’re almost there.”

Which was a lie.

“Can you sing the grocery song?” Imelda asked, turning to look at him. A nearby streetlight lit up her hair like a halo from behind, nearly making him forget what she’d just asked.

“The grocery song? I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocking onto his toes, caught between the desire to rush her home as quickly as possible and wanting to memorize exactly how she looked at this moment. “Could you hum a few bars?”

“You do too know it,” Imelda said, then hummed the first few measures of what was unmistakably La Llorna as she continued to walk.

“How is that the “grocery song”?” Héctor asked, starting after her again.

“You sing it when you bring in your groceries.” Imelda said, sighing as if her were being rather slow for missing something so obvious. “I don’t know what it’s actually called, you’ve never sung what it’s called.”

Héctor blinked. He was usually singing or humming or tapping out some kind of tune, but had Imelda really paid him that much attention? When he passed her in the apartment complex parking lot of all places?

He wasn’t sure what to say, so he began to hum instead. Imelda nodded and continued to hum her own made-up harmony alongside his as they continued to walk, making Héctor feel very strongly that he was actually in a very strange dream and that he would probably wake up any moment.

They traveled several blocks this way, Imelda prompting him to start the song again whenever he ended, before she decided to lay down.

“Whoa, Imelda, we’re not there yet!” Héctor said as she curled up on the cold sidewalk at his feet.

“I’m just...one second...” She mumbled, her hair tumbled over her face.

“No, Imelda, come on, just a little further.” Héctor pleaded, crouching down to gently shake her shoulder but getting no response.

He looked up, their apartment complex was in sight, but it didn’t do them much good if Imelda was passed out on the sidewalk. He groaned, pulling at his neck tie until it hung more loosely, letting him think.

“Okay,” He said, straightening and anxiously grabbing a fistful of his own hair and he looked around, “okay, okayokayokay...”

He could wait for her to get up on her own, but honestly that might not be until morning judging by how unsteady she’d been right before lying down. Calling Ernesto for backup not only felt like it would be overkill, but Héctor knew he would never hear the end of it.

Héctor looked down. “Imelda?” He tried, but she didn’t move.

Alright then. He could do this. He could handle this. It was only a short walk to the apartments, he would survive.

Héctor tried to take a deep breath, but ended up holding it instead as he crouched back down and gingerly scooped up Imelda into his arms.

All in one smooth motion he stood, one of her dress shoes fell off, she sighed as she nestled her head against his shoulder, and one of her hands lazily wove her fingers around his loose necktie.

It took Héctor a full minute of overwhelmed silence to recover, but he did not drop her, which was perhaps the biggest miracle of his life. He’d have to come back for her shoe later, there was no way he was going to try picking it up now.

It was tempting to run, but he didn’t dare, instead steadily making his way towards home while cradling the most beautiful woman in Mexico (in the universe undoubtedly) in his arms. She was much lighter than he had expected, and up close she smelled like mint with a hint of something else he didn’t know the name of, but that was messing with his head in a wonderful way.

Luckily the complex parking lot was empty by the time he finally reached it. No one saw him carefully making his way up the stairs with an unconscious woman in his arms. No one saw him nervously glance around as he managed to get Imelda’s keys, still in his back pocket, out and unlocked her apartment door. Most importantly, no one saw him duck in and close the door behind them before her cat had the chance to escape.

The inside of her apartment was surprisingly similar to how he’d imagined it. Uncluttered, tastefully modern furniture, a well-stocked and organized bookshelf against one wall. He hadn’t expected the messy collection of take-out containers on the coffee table though, and he certainly hadn’t known about the small brown tabby cat that was stiffly stalking towards his ankles.

“Shhhhh, buen gato.” Héctor said nervously, taking a step back as the little animal’s fur stood on end. “If you attack me I might drop Imelda and then we’ll both be upset.”

To his surprise the cat’s fur flattened, it was still glaring up at him with its piercing yellow eyes, but it sat on it haunches. Fine, it seemed to be saying, its ears still twitched back.

Okay, so apparently Imelda did indeed have a roommate, and a protective one at that. Good to know.

Héctor looked around, recognizing the apartment layout as being similar to his own. If he had to guess, he figured that her bedroom was probably the second door down the hallway then. He just had to get her safely in bed and then he could escape from this ridiculous fever dream of an evening.

“Pepita?”

Héctor looked down to see Imelda had opened her eyes and was struggling to lift her head off his shoulder.

“Well hey, you’re back.” Héctor said gently.

“Where did I go?” She asked blearily.

“Nowhere, we’re going to get you to bed alright?”

“Gooood, I think, I might be little drunk.” She confided for the second time that evening.

Héctor chuckled as he walked down the hallway and shouldered open the door. He’d guessed right, a perfectly made bed was inside.

“You’re so distracting Rivera,” Imelda said, leaning her head against his shoulder again. “you're lucky I haven't written you up yet for being attractive.”

“What?” Héctor choked.

He nearly dropped her, but instead turned it into setting her on her feet at the last moment. She was really far gone if she was actually complimenting him, it had to be the alcohol talking.

“It’s just, your dumb hair.” Imelda leaned up against him, her fingers combing through his hair before he could stop her again. “Do you know how hard it is not to think about your hair when I’m trying to do important work stuff?”

Keep it together.

Keep it together.

Héctor’s breathing was suddenly unsteady, his brain completely checked out at the feeling of her warm body up against his, her fingers playing with his hair.

This was too specific, it wasn’t alcohol talking.

“Imelda, you are drunk.” Héctor said aloud, reminding himself probably more than her. He commanded his arms to move and took her by the shoulders to steer her away from him and towards her bed instead. “You should get some sleep alright? You’d better get a head start on the hangover you’re going to have in the morning.”

Imelda moved to sit down on the edge of the bed and Héctor yelped in surprise as he was jerked forward, her grip still on his loose tie. He caught himself just in time, an arm on either side of her.

“Imelda you’ve got to let go of my tie.” Héctor said hoarsely.

“Oh.” Imelda said, looking at the strip of cloth in her hand like she’d completely forgotten about it. “Are you going to sleep too?”

“Yep, I’ve got my very own bed back at my own apartment.” Héctor said quickly. He felt a little like he was choking, but it wasn’t the tie, which was slipping out of its knot anyway.

“Alright, good night.” Imelda said.

She yawned, kissed him on the nose, and then slumped back on the bed, unconscious again before she even hit the covers.

Héctor straightened the moment he was free, blushing deeply as he touched his nose. His tie had slipped off from around his neck, and she was still holding it close to her on the bed. He looked down and saw the cat staring up at him, a rather cool expression on its feline face.

“I think she likes me.” Héctor whispered to it.

The car flicked its tail, unimpressed. It padded to the bed, jumped up onto the mattress, and curled up snugly under Imelda’s chin.

Héctor hesitated for a moment, but then carefully tucked Imelda’s legs up into the bed and pulled a comforter over her. He went to the kitchen, rifling through her cupboards until he’d returned to set a glass of water and a bottle ibuprofen on her nightstand. She was definitely going to need it in the morning.

That done, Héctor reached for the light switch in his way out, lingering in the bedroom doorway for a long moment. She’d shifted in her sleep, pulling a pillow close to her chest as she curled up under the covers.

Héctor wasn’t sure how long he stood there, content to gaze at her gentle beauty, before the cat raised its head, looking directly at him with a look that clearly meant move along.

“Alright, alright. No need to shout.” Héctor said quietly, flipping off the bedroom lights.

He paused by her bookshelf on his way out to make a few mental notes for future reference, then ducked out of her apartment.

The moment he was home, as soon as he’d locked his own door behind him, was when the laughing started.

Héctor sagged against the door as a chuckle of stress and disbelief escaped him.

She liked him.

Imelda knew what songs he sang when he brought in his groceries, and thought about his hair while she was working, and wanted to write him up for “being attractive.” Who knew what else was happening in that wonderful brain of hers?

He really had a chance, more than a chance. Now that he knew she liked him, under all that pretended sternness, he had something even stronger than hope to dream with.

“What on earth happened to you?”

Héctor looked up to see Ernesto standing in the hallway, dressed in his blue silk pajamas and wide-eyed as he looked down to where Héctor had slid to the floor.

“Were you mugged?” Ernesto asked.

“No no no, I just,” Héctor gasped between laughs, weak with relief. “I don’t even know what happened, I, I-”

“Are you drunk?” Ernesto folded his arms.

“I wasn’t the drunk one, Imelda-“

“Nooooo!” Ernesto gasped, dropping the book he had been holding. “You got laid?”

“No!” Héctor cried, propping himself up into a better sitting position against the door. “Let me finish!”

“Darn right you’re going to finish!” Ernesto exclaimed, dragging over a kitchen chair and sitting with his arms crossed on the back of it. “Tell me.” He commanded.

Héctor relayed the night’s events as quickly as he could, his brain already drifting to think about what he’d do the next time he saw Imelda.

“Well congratulations amigo,” Ernesto said after he’d finished roaring with laughter, wiping a tear from his eye. “Your idiot dreams came true after all. But I don’t know what you’re doing back here though, you’ve still got plenty of time to go back her apartment.”

“What?” Héctor asked as he stood, then realized what Ernesto was implying. “No! She’s drunk and exhausted, how could even suggest something like that?”

“I was just kidding, honestly, I was kidding,” Ernesto said, waving off Héctor’s indignant look as he stood and carried his chair back to the kitchen. “But,” he called over his shoulder, “drunk Imelda is probably the only Imelda you’re ever going to have a chance with muchacho, you gotta seize your moment.”

“Don’t be a creep Ernesto, it’s not funny.” Héctor said, rolling his eyes.

It wasn’t until Héctor went to kick off his shoes that he remembered Imelda's lost flat was still lying on the sidewalk somewhere. He jammed his foot back into his shoe and dashed out of the apartment as quickly as he could.

***

Imelda’s head hurt so badly.

She forced her eyes open in a tight squint against the blazing light coming through the closed bedroom curtains. Something shifted near her head and she winced at the jab of pain the slight sound made in her head.

What. Had happened.

Everything was jumbled and messy inside her head as she painfully propped herself up on an elbow. She spotted a bottle of painkillers on her nightstand and flailed out an arm, trying three times before she managed to latch onto the bottle. It took her another minute of struggling before she got the cap off and then managed to dry-swallow the largest dose she knew she could reasonably be safe taking.

She lay back heavily on her pillow, groaning. Pepita rubbed up against her face and Imelda absently scratched at the cat’s ears as she closed her eyes against the light in the room.

“What happened girl?” Imelda asked.

She didn’t remember a thing about the night before. She couldn’t remember being this hungover since...gosh, probably her freshman year at university? It must have been some kind of party, but why would she have been at a party?

He went to move Pepita’s tail from were it was caught against her neck, but came away with a strip of purple and blue cloth in her hand instead. She stared at it for a long, confused moment.

Imelda jolted up in bed, a spike of pain shooting through her skull.

There was a man’s necktie in her bed.

Oh no. No no no.

She threw back the covers to find she was in her black v-neck dress, one of her shoes lost among the covers, the other nowhere to be found.

Her head was pounding, but she dived for her purse where it was sitting on the ground. She fished out her phone, there were five missed calls from Ceci and a barrage of texts.

How was the Christmas party?

Did you have fun?

Meldaaaaa, are you avoiding me?

You better text back hermana, I’m calling the police if I don’t hear from you by eleven.

Don’t test me on this one, pick up. I just want to know you’re safe. <3

The Christmas party! That’s what had happened last night, wasn't it. Imelda glanced at the time, ten-thirty. She typed out a response to Ceci as quickly as she could.

I’m fine I think, just woke up, I’m safe. SUPER bad hangover, I’m blaming you.

Imelda bit her lip as she hit send, looking at the mystery tie lying on her bed like it was a snake. No, she’d try to figure it out before telling Ceci about it.

She stood, and had just picked up the tie when there was a knock at the door. Imelda jumped at the noise, her head ringing. Pepita pricked up her ears and jumped off the bed, trotting out of the bedroom to investigate.

Who on earth would be knocking this early on a Saturday?

Imelda followed the cat down the hallway, quietly padding to the front door and then leaning forward to look through the peephole.

Standing on her doorstep was Héctor Rivera, looking over his shoulder as if he were a little nervous. In one hand he seemed to be holding a mug of what looked a lot like suero, and in the other he was holding...a shoe?

No.

That was her shoe. Her black ballet flat with the rose embroidery.

Imelda choked as she reeled back from the door, looking down at the tie in her hand as a scrap of memory from the night before blurrily resurfaced. The memory of her pulling Héctor down by this very tie, which was horrifyingly too much information, but also far too little.

Imelda moaned quietly, pressing the palms of her hands against her aching eyes, her cheeks feeling like they were on fire with blushing. Why had she gone to the party? Why had she gotten drunk? She wouldn’t have touched a bit of alcohol if she’d known Héctor would be there. She knew her own weaknesses, and she knew that the toused-haired teacher which soft eyes and a softer heart was one of them, she would have been smarter than to get drunk around him.

There was another knock at the door behind her. She grimaced in indecision. Héctor knew what had happened last night, if she ignored him it would only be postponing the inevitable.

“Imelda?” Héctor called through the door, “I’m just checking to see if you’re alright, you, uh, you had a bit of an exciting night.”

Imelda desperately wanted to disappear completely, but the last shred of dignity inside her demanded that she settle this now.

She nearly bit through her own lip in almost tearful frustration as she adjusted her dress, glancing in the hallway mirror to quickly run her fingers through her hair and wipe away the mascara smudged under her eyes. It would have to do.

She jerked open the door, making Héctor jump hard enough to drop her shoe.

“Buenos días!” Héctor said, quickly picking it up again and flashing her one of his stupid, distracting smiles.

Imelda opened the door, silently pointing for him to come in, which he did. She was not going to have this discussion in the open.

“I brought you suero.” Héctor said meekly, offering her the mug when the door was shut behind them. “I figured you’d need it.”

“Rivera, I need you to be completely honest with me.” Imelda said, forcing herself to be every inch his boss, despite being barefoot with her hair down. “Did we...last night...did...”

Héctor’s eyes widened, “No! No no no! Nothing happened, I swear, all I did was walk you home, I promise.”

Imelda said several very harsh things to the part of her that had the nerve to want to feel disappointed at that.

She was a professional.

She was also now vaguely remembering playing with Héctor's hair, and it was making her fingers twitch, but she miraculously managed to maintain her composure.

“I, uh, I don’t suppose you’d like to go to breakfast and talk it over?” Héctor rubbed the back of his neck, and the motion pulled at Imelda’s heartstrings for some reason. “You said some interesting things last night I wouldn’t mind getting some clarification on.”

What did that mean?

Imelda wondered what would happen if she said yes. Wondered what would happen if they did have breakfast together, wondered what she had said the night before, wondered if her vague memory of kissing him was real or imagined. Imelda wondered what it might be like to kiss him when she was sober.

She was suddenly wondering a lot of things.

“I think,” Imelda said slowly, “that if you value your employment that it would probably be best if you forgot anything I may have said while under the influence.”

Héctor nodded, “Of course.”

But he didn’t look nearly as crushed as he should have. In fact, she could have sworn there was still a smile hiding in his expression. She had no doubt in her mind that he absolutely was not about to forget about the night before. Which really wasn’t fair since she couldn’t seem to remember most of it.

Although, more bits and pieces were starting to drift back now, the memory of him humming that song she’d often heard him sing before, of him...carrying her?

“Well, this is for you.” He said, offering her the mug of suero. “And here’s your shoe. It fell off on our way home.”

“Here’s your tie, I think.” She said, trading the strip of cloth for the mug. It would have been rude not to take it. “How did I end up with that?”

“It was already loose and you ah, you wouldn’t let it go when I tried to leave.” Héctor said, a crooked grin on his face.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” Imelda said, pretending she didn’t know perfectly well that she was blushing again. “Thank you for getting me home safely.”

“Anytime.” Héctor said, bowing with a smile. He straightened and looked like he wanted to say something else, but just shook his head and let himself out.

As soon as he’d closed the door behind him Imelda rushed to look through the peephole. Héctor was standing on the other side of the door, hands in his pockets, looking out over the parking lot at nothing in particular. Then he shook his head with a smile, and walked out of her sight.

She could hear him humming something cheerful and upbeat as he walked away.

Imelda let out a long breath and leaned heavily against the door. She sipped quietly at her salty drink, listening to Héctor’s song until it was out of earshot.

Pepita meowed and Imelda looked down to see the cat winding around her bare ankles.

“Alright, let’s get you some food, calm down.” Imelda grumbled, settling back into the headache of death now that she wasn’t distracted anymore.

She was going to feed Pepita, take a very long shower, and then probably a nap while she waited for her hangover to wear off. It was going to be a normal, quiet Saturday at home, and she was not going to dwell on the night before.

Everything would be back to normal on Monday.

But she would never be able to tell Ceci that. Ceci was far too good at telling when Imelda was lying.

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

Aaaaaand we’re back! Hope you enjoyed this extra long chapter for Valentine’s Day, it was supposed to be a summary of their entire dating/breakup history, but lucky for you I’m chronically incapable of doing anything by halves. This means you’ll get more of their dating history over the next few weeks.

This AU just keeps expanding, you lucky ducks.

Be sure to check out the teacher!au AO3 page, this is also where @slusheeduck and I will be organizing all the headcanon and backstory one-shots for the AU we’ve written over the past few months for your reading ease.

Happy V-day! <3

- Wit

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[Au started by @scribblrhob and also heavily added to by @upperstories]

#teacher!au #coco #valentines day #chapter 9 #part 1 #hector #imelda #ernesto #pepita