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write-it-good-imagines · 10 months ago

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Nothing More(M) - Four

~5k words; hi everyone! I am so happy to see this story is still growing wings after so much time, and that you still take some time to read it. Thank you for that! In exchange, I'll give you some crazy action. Enjoy~

I’ve learnt my lesson now… I shouldn’t have had sex with you because I knew, I knew that I’d fall in love with you. You are the person someone would be lucky to be in love with.

“So? What are you guys doing tonight? I’m sure there must be something!”

Leena’s cheerful demeanor put a smile on the barista’s face as well. Not intentionally trying, but she attracted everyone to herself like a magnet.

“Ah, I don’t know. We didn’t plan anything, I mean I am at my cousin’s club tonight,” said Samantha, dipping her head in a silent thank you for her double cappuccino. The little coffee spot by the hospital was just perfect to savor an early august morning, on a Friday that started slower and lazier than all other days.

Leena was not pleased with Samantha’s answer. “Really? Did not plan anything? You tell me, for once in forever, you open your soul up to a guy, after which you two talk non-stop, like a married couple, only to tell me you are taking a shift at the club the day he’s coming back?”

“Well, we don’t talk non-stop, I mean he’s got shows to do and I am taking consults—”

“Outrageous.” Concluded Leena and seated herself at a secluded table. Samantha followed soon enough. “It is exactly because you are taking consults again that I can’t comprehend why you’re running away from him. For God’s sake, you had a surgery.”

Samantha’s eyes fell to the milky foam of her coffee cup. “I had a surgery.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

The woman nodded her head. “Like it was the first time. Thrilling, exciting. But knowing exactly what to do.”

“Just allow yourself to love the guy.”

Samantha scoffed as if Leena had just told her she won the lottery. Highly unlikely, but a possibility even so. “Oh please, I don’t love Mark.”

Leena arched her eyebrows and took a sip of her espresso. “No shit you don’t.”

“No, really. You don’t love a guy who goes up on a stage every night to rip his shirt off and has thousands of girls lining up to get a piece.”

“And does he?” Leena inched closer to Samantha. “Give a piece? Do tell.”

“Well,” Samantha crossed her arms over her chest. ”Says he doesn’t.”

“Yeah, cause when you assumed he was out whoring he was sleeping.”

“He was sleeping. I think I know a thing of two about him sleeping.”

Leena urged the other to go on. “What else? Ripping his shirt off on the stage you mentioned.”

“Aren’t these kind of guys players? If I look up a photo of last night’s concert, I’ll bet my entire salary that I find one with those tattooed abs of his shoved in my face.” Samantha said, and Leena could not detect even an ounce of regret or sadness in her voice. More like intrigued jealousy.

“You asked him to be your fuck buddy,” with the hand holding the cap, Leena extended an index to point to the other. “Don’t call him a player. Because he was anything but.”

Just as Samantha was opening her mouth to protest, the screen of her phone lit up with a couple of messages. Her actions were stopped to scan the texts with her eyes and a smile tugged at her lips.

“Mhm,” Leena said, tilting her head towards the direction of the phone. “What did he say?”

“Ah, that he’s preparing to go to the airport.”

“The exact words?”

She knew she did not have any chance to escape Leena at that point. “Quote: good morning beautiful. I hope you have an amazing day today. We’re gathering our stuff to fly out. Can’t wait to see you again. End of quotation.”

“Such a player, no?” Leena mocked surprise then laughed at Samantha, who had nothing to contest about what her friend outlined so harshly. In the days following their late-night conversation when Mark was in New Delhi, they kept closely in touch, each texting one another when they found a moment of quiet in their busy schedules. Their discussions did not delve into much depth but were more like quick check-ups to strengthen the connection. Samantha would tell Mark about her days and her patients, and he would ask questions to clarify topics, or would give compliments to praise her work. Mark in turn would talk about the concerts, and the cities he’d fly to, and it took Samantha’s breath away every time he’d say he would take her with him to see what he saw.

Samantha grabbed the phone from the table surface to text Mark back. “What am I even doing, Leena?”

[To: Mark] good morning to you too, Mark 😊

[To: Mark] always aiming to put a smile on my face huh?

[To: Mark] safe travels!! I missed you too

[To: Mark] having a shift at the club tonight, meet me there? I’ll talk to my cousin to leave earlier

“What you are doing,” Leena started, twirling the cup around to play with the dark brown liquid “is not acknowledging your feelings. I can understand you’re still scarred because of Henry but Mark is not him. And I think he’ll help you heal.”

A short ding came from Samantha’s phone almost instantly.

[From: Mark] took you long enough to tell me you missed me

[From: Mark] thanks, flights back home are always tougher

[From: Mark] I’ll be there. there’s a cool skate rink nearby that’s open till late

[From: Mark] if you wanna go, ofc

A sigh escaped Samantha’s lips as her eyes scanned the mobile screen. “I know,” Samantha lifted the phone for Leena to see the texts and the other gave a small gesture, indicating she was on Mark’s side. “I guess I never allowed myself to get over Henry entirely. Not fair to Mark.”

“You said you’d talk to him, right? Besides, you’ve already fucked each other, it’s not like you don’t know intimacy.”

Both Leena and Samantha laughed. Then a lingering expression followed on Samantha’s features. “Mark said he couldn’t make love to me and leave the following day like the next guy.”

Leena’s eyes widened in clear surprise. “Mark said he’s making love to you.”

“It’s just sex, I know. That was an exaggeration.”

“Sam,” Leena adjusted the empty cup on the table and took Samantha’s hands into her own, and, albeit a dramatic gesture, she meant all the seriousness she could muster. “Talk to him. Tell him how you truly feel. He’s not seeing you as a simple fuck buddy anymore. Mark will prove this to you, most likely sooner rather than later.”

During the rest of the day, Samantha felt restless, restless with Leena’s words echoing in her mind, restless with Mark’s words flooding over, time after time. Samantha’s life was growing busier by the day, word of her returning to practice bringing more patients which required her knowledgeable care. She returned to observing surgeries, involving herself in helping whenever necessary, and taking upon other surgeries. Ultimately, she couldn’t make sense of why she allowed herself to be so consumed of Henry’s mistakes and treatment. Why she pulled away from the thing that made the most sense. It was so long ago that she couldn’t remember what prompted her to tug away. It should have been a sign to start anew.

And then life was growing busier by the day with Mark intoxicating her thoughts. A wicked game, chasing away feelings which only returned stronger, more vivid. Samantha did miss Mark, in his entirety. She missed the cozy scent of his Tom Ford cologne when he embraced her, she missed the coarse gentle tone of his voice when he made jokes, and she missed his passionate way of making love.

Samantha decided she would give Mark a chance, beyond just being her fuck buddy.

With that conviction in mind, Samantha left the hospital and rode straight home to prepare herself for the night, in both mental and physical terms. All her makeup products and brushes felt so unfamiliar she found herself wondering when the last time was when she took the time to pamper herself. She dressed herself with a burgundy low-shoulder crop top, with flowy butterfly long sleeves, and a plain black pair of jeans to hug her curves. Samantha gave her hair the freedom to bounce with the wind to complete her look. A quick text exchange with her cousin gave her the green light to leave the club as soon as Mark showed up.

At around 9:30, Samantha arrived at the club, shortly before it opened to the public. Changwook was there as well, an all hands on deck kind of night.

“Hey stranger,” Changwook lifted his head from the bar sink and was thrown off guard by Samantha’s looks. He had to clear his throat to regain his composure. “You’re beautiful.”

“Today only?” Samantha retorted and approached the bar counter, shoving a small backpack under it. She ran a strand of hair behind her ear and Changwook looked away.

“Guess I wasn’t the chosen one.” He stated and threw Samantha an apron. She looked at him with an apologetic look but couldn’t find anything right to say. “It’s cool, really, least I tried.”

“Changwook, it’s not your fault. I’m just…”

Changwook smiled and waved his hand in dismissal. “Not interested. Let’s get to business, we’re opening soon.”

As the night grew deeper, the club welcomed many eager customers to announce yet another successful night for Samantha’s cousin. From behind the bar counter, Samantha noticed a good number of celebrities intertwined in the crowd and her eyes couldn’t help but wander around in search for Mark. In the serving haste, her apron became drenched with water and alcohol, so she whispered to Changwook’s ear that she would go to the back room to get another. Mingling through the crowd, Samantha arrived quickly at the changing room and closed the door behind her. She opened her locker to grab a fresh apron and was just finishing untying the dirty one, when the door clicked open.

Samantha’s lips couldn’t contain an enthusiastic yet nervous smile. She straightened her body, fixing her hair quickly with a swift motion of the hand before turning to the direction of the sound.

She could never have been prepared for the stature towering in front of the closed door.

A white half-transparent shirt which wrapped a chiseled body, with a silver bracelet at the hand lingering in one of the fabric pockets of the trousers, in a stance Samantha knew like the back of her hand. His hair was sleeked back, only a rebel strand playing at his thick eyelashes.

“Henry.” Samantha breathed, the delight of her expression faltering all too soon. She felt her throat choking.

“It’s too bad that happiness on your face was not for me. And saddening you look so bitter instead.” Henry spoke, maintaining a velvety smile. “I’m happy to see you.”

Henry took a couple steps closer to Samantha. She kept her ground. “I’m not. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be so rude.” With each step he took forward, Samantha took one back, until her back was pressed against the cold metal of the lockers. She was looking at him sharply in the eye. “It’s been almost two years, I missed you.”

Samantha pushed a hand to his chest to warn him not to get any closer. Henry complied, keeping at a distance that was still not comfortable for her. “Don’t get any closer. Don’t give me the speech on how you missed me after you humiliated me in front of the entire hospital. I want you to leave.”

It took every ounce of Samantha’s strength an effort to confront Henry at a time like that. If there was anything he was good at, it was taking people by surprise at the wrong moments. The first time in a long while Henry was not residing in the back of her head appeared to be the magic trick to summon him into her life again. When he still had a lot of control over her feelings and her reactions.

Henry drew in closer, his tall stature hovering over her. He kept carrying the same smile, trying to ease the tension between them. When he raised a hand to cup Samantha’s cheek, her body quivered and froze all at once.

“But I’ve heard so many great things about you, darling. Management position, and once again operating. When we see each other tomorrow morning at the hospital, I’d really like to know why you stopped taking surgeries.”

There was not enough time for Samantha to process Henry’s words because the door clicked open to interrupt the scene.

There he was, the reason for Samantha’s happiness, even more handsome with a brown short-sleeved shirt and straight grey trousers, which indicated he took the effort to care for his looks. In his hand, he held a breathtaking bouquet arrangement with delicate snapdragons, elegant red roses, fragrant dianthus, and vibrant alstroemeria. A bouquet of a Parisian romance.

There was Mark, with a smile that lit up Samantha’s whole world, now evaporated into oblivion. At a closer look, you could still distinguish a faint trace of a smile, probably in excitement to see you again. Samantha would never come to know whether that was true. The thing she would know and would remember was Mark’s sadness unskillfully hidden behind a bleak smile.

Mark was not supposed to see that. Had the Universe been kind for once, he should have never seen what he just had. Panic was outlined all over Samantha’s features as soon as her eyes locked with Mark’s desolated ones. With the way he carried himself, even more masculine and so sure of himself, Henry would never guess Mark took a hefty blow.

“Thanks for the chat.” He stated simply and threw a brief look in Henry’s direction before backing away from the room. The murmur of a phrase that became so intimate to her was now the reason the tense air of the room strangled her out.

Samantha slapped Henry’s hand away from her cheek, tears crippling at her eyes. Henry’s gaze grew curious. “So he was the one your happiness was for. Maybe I should thank him.”

“Leave me the fuck alone.” Grunted Samantha and unpeeled herself from the lockers to chase after Mark. She swam through the crowd to get to the bar counter and reached for her backpack in a hurried motion. Changwook’s attention was diverted to her, and he had to look twice when he noticed her tears in his peripheral vision.

“Samantha—”

Samantha lifted her hand in the air to keep the distance and she dashed away, reaching the outside of the club a tad too late. The only sighting of Mark was the bouquet of flowers left desolately on a nearby bench. Samantha stretched her arms to lift it from the bleak wood and a card fell to the ground. She picked it up and a tear fell on the black ink inside the ceramic envelope. Mark’s handwriting lived inside, just for her.

Would you like to be my date?

The fifth call ended to voicemail. Samantha paced back and forth in her living room, fingers covering her mouth while the other hand was clenched on the phone. The moon hung high in the sky yet the translucent gleam painting over the flowers altered them to cast a painful sadness throughout Samantha’s house. She sat down on the couch, an inhibited tiny stream of tears flowing down her cheek. Samantha paid no attention to Murphy whose paws were patting all over her legs, in an attempt to soothe her sorrow. Poor thing couldn’t know why she was so sad, and she didn’t allow him to ease her mind. Murphy settled on curling himself against her feet, waiting patiently for her to let him in.

After some time spent in silence, she chuckled. The whole situation was, in fact, hilarious. Samantha leaned her back onto the couch, eyes fixated on the nothingness of the ceiling. At one point, she thought about going to Mark’s house. The impediment was that she did not know where he lived. And another impediment would be that he made himself clear he would not be happy with her company.

It was funny how things decided to play out the way they did. The perfume of the fresh flowers made her wonder if Mark picked them by himself. Mark was supposed to find out everything, she was supposed to tell him about Henry being the reason she so adamantly pushed him away. Mark was not supposed to see Henry so close in her proximity, touching her so familiarly and playing all the right cards to have her frozen in place.

Now Mark was everywhere, a permanent resident in her mind, a permanent resident in her soul, he was everything Samantha wanted and everything that was sliding away.

The rest of the night passed at an agonizingly slow speed. Samantha spent much of it on the couch, brown orbs dashing back and forth between the flowers on the coffee table and the dark screen of her phone. She managed to doze off for a little while, still aware of her surroundings, and the only scene that replayed in her mind was the handsome image of Mark, with the spending smile on his lips and the ruffle in his hairstyle. It stopped there, and it then replayed from the top. It was like nothing else existed.

It was then she took the decision to go and visit him directly at his studio. At the crack of dawn, Samantha gently awoke Murphy from her feet and took the opportunity to grab some fresh air while walking him. By the time she realized she hadn’t taken off her make-up, she could only hope the mascara was not smeared too much. Feeling a tad more refreshed after the walk, Samantha fed her little man and reassured him, with loving snuggles and pats in his fur, that he was loved and appreciated. With a little bark he must have understood the message.

Samantha took a shower to cleanse off the events of the previous night and went to put on her office outfit for the day. Having early consultations and a surgery check-up scheduled for the second part of the day, she texted her attending that she would join them some time after the rounds. Then, she texted Leena.

[To: Leena] morning Leena, will be late today for rounds, don’t wait up

[From: Leena] oh? Mark kept you up all night?

[To: Leena] something happened last night and we couldn’t be with each other

[To: Leena] I’ll tell you when we meet

[From: Leena] ok, I’ll cover for you

[From: Leena] I’m still good to go on OBGYN.

Mark’s group’s studio was not too far away from the hospital, and Samantha parked her motorcycle outside of the tall building. The sudden visit was not planned ahead by Samantha who let her feelings take the lead. Not the one to usually lose composure, it rarely happened for her to give her heart the reins. Samantha tied her helmet to the bike and strengthened her white coat under the leather motorcycle jacket.

Inside the building, the modern lobby was guarded by three security guards, with subtle movements but ever so vigilant. They cocked their eyebrows as the clicks of her heels echoed against the black marble, her hospital badge dangling by the pocket.

Samantha approached the receptionist’s desk. “Hi, my name is Doctor Samantha Stoss, I am looking for Mark Tuan.”

“Hello. I am sorry but the group is not expecting any visitors today. Should I say you dropped by?”

At the nearby elevator, Samantha heard two other dancers discussing choreography for Mark’s group and that they’d get breakfast before joining them. Which meant that Mark was there, at that exact moment. Samantha’s heart picked up a beat in her chest.

“Yes, thank you, I’ll wait in the visitor’s area for when he’ll be available.”

Samantha was guided by security to the floor where the group was at, and was instructed to wait in the lobby area, where a couple of other people were sitting. All the other people were too busy to notice the moment she left the lobby, to walk towards the hall with the practice studios. Most of the rooms were still devoid of light, except for a singular one at the far end of the hall, where muffled laughter animated the atmosphere. The echo of her heeled steps was reverberating in her ears, enough to stifle the emotions in her chest.

The door to the studio was open and Samantha stopped in the frame.

“Mark.”

Collectively, all the sounds dissolved into thin air, and all the other members stopped dead in their various stretching positions. Mark was sitting on the floor as he tilted his head backwards to look at Samantha. It seemed that, initially, he couldn’t believe Samantha was standing in their doorframe.

“Oh, so you are Mark’s girlfriend? You are astonishing.” Bambam tweedled and Jackson had to muffle his mouth to prevent him from saying anything further, notwithstanding with his own lips parted in blatant shock. One had to give it to him, he was good at breaking a brutal silence. A couple of paces nearby, Samantha noticed Jinyoung smiling at her and if she didn’t know any better, she’d say his greeting smile was razor-sharp. All of a sudden, Samantha wondered how Mark spoke of her to the guys. If he did, at all.

“Excuse us a moment, guys.” Mark straightened his body from the floor, his eyes never leaving Samantha’s silhouette. Samantha stepped aside, allowing Mark to walk by and guide them both to an empty studio nearby. He closed the door behind them with a powerful motion, which tied a knot in Samantha’s stomach.

She was searching for any sentiment in Mark’s posture, be it anger, sadness, excitement, anything it could have been. She was met with stoicism instead.

“You didn’t return my calls.” Began Samantha. Mark simply nodded. “And you haven’t texted back, either.”

“Yeah, I didn’t. Figured you’d be busy.”

The harshness of his words made Samantha wince. “Don’t do this Mark.”

“I’m not doing anything. We’re leaving again day after tomorrow and…”

He stopped for a moment and it took her breath away. Mark’s mask was slowly starting to fade away. It was then Samantha noticed his eyes were tired. They had so few moments together and an entire night out of those was ruined, because of Henry. Because of her.

“…we’re rehearsing a new set. So, I really have just a moment. Why are you here?”

Samantha wanted to inch closer to him, to hug him, to get lost in his presence. She refrained from doing so. “I’m here because I missed you, Mark. Because last night was a huge misunderstanding and because you didn’t allow me to explain.”

“Explain?” Mark called out in an even voice, but his hand threw the hood of his sweatshirt to rake his hair in a precipitous movement. “You told me no one touched you since I left. That you don’t think anyone will. We were supposed to go out on a date, and I come pick you up to what?”

“Mark, listen to me—”

“Sam, he touched you like he knew you inside out, like he did that a thousand times before. “

“Mark, stop—”

“I don’t know you inside out.”

Samantha’s eyes narrowed to prevent another set of tears from forming behind her eyelids. Mark’s hands dropped to his sides as he took a deep, fatigued breath. “I know I’m just the sex but at least don’t lead me on if you have no other plans for us.”

“Mark, Henry is the more I needed to tell you about!”

Samantha raised her voice, and she didn’t realize a tear escaped away from its enclosure. At its sight, Mark’s features instantly soothed. “I took the flowers home Mark, thank you for not throwing them away. They were beautiful. Yes, I want to be your date, and yes, I am sad you are leaving so soon and I’m throwing us away. I want you to understand Henry has no place in my present, or in my future.”

“Henry,” Mark started, checking his smartwatch as it vibrated, “has a place in your present if he gets to touch you and halt your every move like he seemed to do last night. I gotta go. I’ll call.”

“Will you really?” Samantha exhaled, watching Mark’s back as he turned to walk away. He looked at her over his shoulder.

“Yes. I’ll call.”

The ride back to the hospital was agonizing, even if fast. There were seeds of doubt and uneasiness planted into her mind. Part of her wanted to believe that Mark would call, and he’d grant her the chance to set the record straight, but the better part of herself pushed her to believe he would pack his bags and get out of her life. Samantha barely had time to gather herself together, just as she got ambushed right at the entrance by both Jonathan and Leena. And they were far from being happy.

“Would you care to tell us why Henry is back and why he’s so boastfully claiming to having you back?”

Jonathan’s voice woke Samantha from her trance. Without any warning, the events of the previous night stretched farther than Mark looking handsome and ready to sweep her off her feet.

When we see each other tomorrow morning at the hospital, I’d really like to know why you stopped taking surgeries. Samantha felt like she was going to throw up.

“So, it was true.” she said quietly, arming herself with the realest impassivity she was able to forge.

“What do you mean it was true? Why is the bastard here?”

“Jonathan, I have no idea, okay?” Samantha turned to him, and Jonathan’s eyes noticed the anger blended with the heartache in her hazel irises. “He barged into the club last night, surprised me into the changing room and touched my cheek and it made my body tighten. Just as Mark opened the door and looked at me like I was the most disgusting whore on the planet. So, don’t fucking ask me.”

Leena reached to Samantha to envelop her in an embrace. “Sweetie, are you okay? Why didn’t you call me, either of us? Did you get any sleep?”

Samantha shook her head as she tightened the hug. “Not much, no. I went to see Mark this morning. Needless to say, it went badly.”

Jonathan was boiling with displeasure but if anyone saw him from outside, they’d never guess he was ire. Only by his glassy emerald eyes.

“What did he tell you, guys?”

“Certainly, didn’t speak much,” Jonathan concluded, and Leena had to slide her fingers over his knuckles to untighten his hand from the pressure. “He joined the rounds this morning, my neuro rounds. When chief asked for you, he said you’d had a rough night. Gosh, Sam, you should have called us because I was about to smash his head in, thinking he’d forced himself upon you.”

“I’m fine, Jonathan,” at least physically, she was. Mentally, Samantha was only just juggling the tumult. “Henry joined your rounds because there’s only one attending spot in neuro, we all knew.”

Samantha locked her eyes with Jonathan’s. “We’re not waging wars. I am going to walk in there, with my head held high, and I am going to confront him.”

“How can you be so calm? Why are you so calm? Henry’s got no place here, with none of us.”

In the distance, Samantha’s gaze fell upon Henry, absentmindedly flirting with a nurse, while his awareness was invested in her. If she allowed herself to give into her emotions, they would consume her entirely.

“That’s not for any of us to decide. It’s for you to decide if you’re better than him as attending.”

Jonathan couldn’t believe his ears. He was watching Samantha as she walked into the building, in a straight path to the devil. Within himself, he acknowledged she was not in the same spot Henry left her, two years ago. Jonathan was afraid that one wrong move would make her crumble.

“Good morning to you, my fair lady.” Henry shifted his position on the elbow leaning against the nurse’s station, to face Samantha with an inviting smirk. “Can I interest you with a coffee?”

“Doctor Carter,” Samantha acknowledged him, waiting for her charts to be delivered to the nurse’s station. Henry allowed his gaze to observe Samantha’s leather motorcycle jacket, over a tight crayon olive dress, and her doctor’s coat matching the white stilettos on her feet. Samantha was very aware of his charade. It was the same he used to win her from Jonathan, years ago. “No thank you, I’m drinking tea now.”

Henry chuckled, clasping his hands together. “Are you comfortable riding the bike on those gorgeous heels? Jimmy Choos?”

“Look, doctor Carter,” Samantha took the charts from the station, a silent smile directed to the nurse. At that point, not only did she realize she could not compare with Samantha, but she couldn’t keep up with Henry. “Let me set things straight. One, stop claiming me as if I’m some object. Two, I prefer not to intersect paths with you.”

“Oh? So why did you ditch lovely doctor Williams there to talk to me?”

At any given point, Samantha would have succumbed to Henry’s charms. But she took a good look at him, and he was not Mark, and he would never be. Henry had the element of surprise when his fingers brushed against her skin. Samantha was not completely sure her body would fight back should there be another intentional touch of his, but her mind was.

“You see, Henry,” Samantha looked up at him to counter the lingering smirk on his lips. Admittedly, Henry was surprised. “First time, it was on purpose. Second time, I want to set the record straight. Don’t touch me, ever again. I don’t know what your intentions are, but I want nothing to do with you.”

“Is that so?” Henry challenged and lowered his head to match Samantha’s gaze. She gulped, a gesture that did not go unnoticed. “Something tells me you’re not telling the truth.”

“Doctor Carter.” Jonathan’s even tone broke Henry’s stance. The latter fixed the collar of his coat.

“Doctor Williams! Let’s have a healthy competition, shall we? Rumor has it you’re racing for attending this year. And, of course,” he gestured to Samantha “you must have the support of most of the residents of this hospital.”

“What I can say to you is good luck. If you still have that nice camera, you can take a picture of me when I become attending.”

Henry laughed and waved a hand in a dismissive manner in the air, before walking away at his pager pinged. “Didn’t you choose neurosurgery just to try and steal Samantha from me? That’s a bit of wishful thinking on your side.”

Leena’s eyes widened at Henry’s claims, even more at Jonathan’s irritated lack of response. She then looked at Samantha who seemed familiar enough with the remark. Leena’s pager beeped soon after and followed in Henry’s steps, azure orbs lingering on Jonathan’s jaded ones. He was apologetic to her and the last time he saw Leena that day was bitter, with her disappointed expression.

Samantha’s phone started ringing in her pocket. She walked away towards her neo-natal ward and slid a hand to her pocket, answering before checking the number.

“Doctor Samantha Stoss, what can I help you with?”

“Didn’t know you recommended yourself like that when speaking, doctor Stoss.”

Samantha had to recompose herself, exhaling in relief. “Mark, hey. Sorry, morning was just crazy.”

Mark chuckled on the other line. “Doesn’t give you the chance to get bored. You can tell me all about your day tonight, if you wanna watch a movie at my place.”

Samantha giggled, allowing Mark to register her contentment. “Sounds… sounds very nice. Thank you, Mark.”

“Of course,” Mark’s voice adopted a sliver of a commanding tone, “I cannot guarantee we’re not going to have angsty sex before, or after. Or both.”

Samantha gasped. As much as Mark’s words provoked her womanhood, they also provoked anxiety. Anxiety that he’d end their hopes before they grew wings. “I’ll be there.”

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house-of-slayterr · 2 years ago

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A Dinner to Die For:

Tag: @iloveslasher @myers-meadow-selfship

Meadow’s POV:

My schedule was packed to the brim today. I had an early morning meeting with the school board over coffee. I had three classes to teach. And then I had to be home for Hannibal’s dinner party. I was sort of excited for it, Frances helped me pick out a fancy new dress that would knock his socks off.

Sure, maybe my focus should be on actually trying to impress his friends. But I am a woman with needs, and what this woman needs is to be roughly manhandled by her fiancé after teasing him all night. It was the perfect plan, truly. Hannibal was a strong man, but even he couldn’t resist such a simple tactic.

I flatted out my dress as I got out of the car, walking into the coffee shops to see my boss already seated.

“Ahhh, miss Meadow, early as always.”

“Early is on time, on time is late.” I laughed.

“And that’s exactly what I love about you as an employee. Please, sit, I’ve already ordered us some cinnamon cappuccinos.”

“Sound delicious.”

“So, I know you’re wondering why I had to meet with you today. I’ve, there’s no real easy way to approach this subject I guess.”

“Whatever you have to say to me sir, I will be civil as always. There’s no stress here.” I offered.

He seemed a bit high strung. More so than usual. I suppose it wouldn’t be easy it be the head of the board or directors at a university.

“Truly, it’s not a big deal, but you know how these things go.”

I nodded as the barista set our cups at the table, thanking her and handing her a tip as she left to serve someone else.

“A few of the female students have had some complaints?”

“Oh? I was not aware of this.”

“It’s seems, despite me thinking your attire is completely appropriate, they aren’t on the same page. It’s petty, high school nonsense, but they’ve had some complaints about their boyfriends not paying attention during your lectures because there too busy staring at your um…” he cleared his throat, trailing off the sentence.

“Oh, alright. I guess I’ll wear cardigans to class now.”

“Thanks, you know I never would have said anything if-“

“It’s ok Herb, you’re just doing your job. It’s not my fault I have a nice figure, but if it’s genuinely distracting to my students I will try my best to combat that.”

“We’ll that was the extent of business, sorry I set so much time aside for the meeting, you know how it is.”

“Yeah. It’s fine we can just relax and enjoy our coffee for a minuet. It’s peaceful. How are you doing, how are the kids?”

“Oh they’re kids.”

I laughed lightly.

“That and huh?”

“Lacy is suffering from ‘daddy’s girl’ syndrome and Blake doesn’t like it. But how am I meant to stay mad at this face? I hate making my wife the bad guy, but I just can’t do it!”

He showed me a picture of his daughter. She was positively adorable. I didn’t much care for kids, which is why I taught in college. But I could appreciate them for what they were.

“Yeah, I bet with those eyes she gets out of a lot.” I chuckled.

“Don’t you know it. She’s learned the dreaded ‘please’ coupled with the puppy dog eyes. I crack every time. But Blake’s been doing good, he’s starting middle school this year.”

“Is that so? Already! I swear he was just born yesterday.”

“Time flies I guess. Lacy starts kindergarten too, so my wife will have some time alone finally. I feel bad leaving her with the kids all day, but she gets to go out at night with her girls. So we compromise.”

“You have to appreciate a father who actually watches his children. Do you know how many of the male professors I’ve talked to during our monthly mixers that refer to watching their kids as ‘babysitting’? It’s appalling.”

Herb groaned.

“God I know! I could never disconnect myself form my family like that. They’re my everything, no matter how much of a pain in the ass they are. Oh, I’m vo graduations on your engagement by the way. You seem happy, if any deserves it it’s you.”

“Thank you. Honestly it’s so strange, I never really thought I’d be the Marrying type.”

“Have any ideas for the wedding yet?”

“Umm no, we’re taking our time with engagement. Who’s to say just because he put a ring on my finger we gotta get married next month, or even in the next year. I sort of like the title finance.”

Herb laughed lightly.

“I was the opposite. Me and Henrietta eloped, my mother was furious! But we’re thinking this year we’ll have a proper event. That way the kids can be involved in the ceremony when we renew our vows.”

“Oh gosh, that sounds wonderful!”

“You’re invited of course. You’re the best person on my pay roll, I would be honoured to have you there.”

“And I would be honoured to be there for you. You’re one of the best bosses I’ve ever had.”

“You can bring the fiancé.”

“Oh, umm I didn’t tell you did I?”

He shook his head.

“Two fiancés actually. Doctor Lecter and I are polyamorous. I’m afraid my dear Frances would have a fit if they weren’t invited as well. They keep asking to meet my work friends, would it still be ok if I had two plus ones?”

“Oh, gosh, of course. I would love to finally meet this Doctor of yours, and Frances sounds lovely. Consider them invited.”

“Thank Herb, I’m glad things are working out for the both of us. This meeting was nice, you know, other than discovering a bunch of 20 something are apparently getting turned on in my Entomology course.” I laughed.

He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

“Yeah, wasn’t exactly the type of thing I ever wanted to have to call a meeting about. I really do feel for all the nonsense all the women on my staff have to deal with. Please let me know if there’s anything I can ever actively do to combat stuff like this. Telling you to cover up just doesn’t feel right.”

“Will do boss. You’re one of the good ones Herb, remember that.”

I went to leave some money at the table to pay for my coffee but he stopped me.

“Please, it’s on me.”

I gave him a smile before sending a friendly wave to the barista that had served us. As I made it to the car, I pulled out my phone to check my messages. One from Frances.

Frances:

Don’t tell Hannibal yet, but I had a job interview today and I think it went really well.

Also, I hope your morning meeting went well, have a good day at work.

Also, Also, I can’t wait to see you tonight, or the look on Hannibal’s face ;)

I rolled my eyes at the last message. But I couldn’t help but smile down at my screen. I was used to them texting me everyday, but lately they’ve been more into it. It was sort of adorable, every morning I’d get some sort of good morning text. Around my lunch time, they would sneak little sticky notes into the lunched Hannibal packed that had some sort of corny joke on them. And a “drive safe <3” text when they knew I was about to drive home.

I think they grew bored with sitting around the house all day. After much convincing from both Hannibal and I, the finally agreed to take it easy. Take the time to fully recover from everything they’ve gone through. They hated to admit it, but there was still a lot of physical pain to heal from. And more importantly, mental. But they assured me sessions had been going well with Alana. And I could see the fruits of fruit hard work. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them this happy. Other than when they were on the stage.

Meadow:

My lips are sealed. Meeting went well, Herb wants to meet you. I’ll give more details when you tell me all about this mystery interview later.

I’m off to work, today we’ll be discussing the Giraffe Weevils! Did you know they have them on display in the San Fransisco zoo? Perhaps we can convince Hannibal to take us one day.

Have a good day Darling, I’ll be home soon <3

I didn’t usually like to send emoticons in my messages, but Frances had difficulty reading tone. And besides, it was nice to reciprocate their energy, it made everything feel more casual. They always said I should stop writing my texts as if they were emails. And I think now I understood what they meant. I waited another moment before starting my car, and heard the familiar ding of my phone.

Frances:

Zoo!!!!

I chuckled. Of course that was the only part of that conversation they focused on. I set my phone down and drive to work. I was annoyed with my class for sure. It was entirely embarrassing to be called to your bosses office over something so trivial. But life goes on.

Class went by without any particular problems. It was nice that everything was easy today. No mess, no emergencies, just normal people stuff. And now I got to go home and see my beautiful fiancé and my best friend. And eat dinner and drink wine and not have a single cafe in the world. The perfect end to a mediocre day.

Hannibal greeted me at the door with a swift kiss.

“How was your day my love?”

“Good, it was nice Hannibal. We now have a wedding to go to though.”

“Oh?” He asked, leading me to the kitchen were he was finishing up the feast for his dinner party.

“My boss, he wants to have a proper wedding this time with his kids involved. He invited the three of us.”

“Sounds lovely My Dear.”

He kissed my forehead as I made my way around the counter to sit on the seat. He’d always playfully glare at Frances when they would forgo proper etiquette and hoist themselves up onto the counter top. I would always laugh because it never took him long to drop his frown. I didn’t realise a small chuckle passed my lips.

“And what are you so happy about over there?” He asked.

Oh he was definitely in a good mood today. Hannibal had what I would describe as pleasant moods. Almost as if he detail time in his schedule to have a nice moment. They were careful and calculated, and while sometimes organic, they still felt meticulously planned. Like he only allowed himself to be happy for so long, before he returned to being neutral. And don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed those moments. But this was so much better, to be privy to Hannibal’s natural and blinding smile was something I thanked god for. It was special.

“Just thinking about how lucky I am to see this side of you. You have a gift for making me feel loved and warm.” I said.

“Well I would hope my soon to be wife felt loved by me. I would be miserable at my job if I couldn’t even do that.”

A joke. A rare tease from the mouth of a man who was so stoic and apathetic. I couldn’t stop a grin from taking over my features, and frankly I didn’t want to.

“Oh, so I’m a job to you now hmmm?” I teased.

He made his was across the kitchen, leaning over the counter.

“I don’t hear you complaining whenever I say yes ma’am. And your heart skips a beat and you get that pathetic little look of admiration in those pretty eyes of yours.”

I could feel his breath on my cheek now. And I was certain they were as red as an apple by now.

“Doctor Lecter! Our guest will be here any minute.” I scolded.

“I could always send them away.” He said smoothly.

I had to bite my tongue to strangle the noise bubbling in my throat. Just then the door bell rang.

“You’re unbelievable.” I laughed.

It wasn’t Frances, they have a key. And I couldn’t help but wonder why they weren’t home yet. I sighed, putting on a smile and opening the door for our first guest. Jack and Alana, both always on time.

“Welcome you guys, please come in.” I greeted.

“Whatever Hannibal is cooking smells lovely.” Alana complimented.

“Doesn’t it always?” Jack added.

I let out a short laugh, leading them to the dinning room. One by one our guest for the evening rolled in, but still no Frances. I frowned, checking my phone under the table. Hannibal gently squeezed my hand and whispered in my ear.

“Where is Frances, Darling?” He gently asked.

I sighed.

“I’m sure they be here soon.”

Frances POV:

I raked a forceful hand through my hair. I was pissed, no I was beyond pissed. The audacity of that man, inviting me to an interview under false pretences. And now I was going to be late to dinner. This was bad. I felt awful, Hannibal hated it when people were late. And I was never late to anything. I chuckled at the joke I usually told about even being early to my own birth.

I adjusted my suit jacket in the bathroom and cleaned myself up before heading to my car. I used to just walk everywhere but Hannibal insisted upon buying me the thing. He even got it custom painted in my favourite colour as a surprise. I smiled fondly at the memory. As I wrapped my fingers around the wheel I noticed the faintest hint of a bruise blooming on my knuckles. Shit. Hannibal would definitely notice that.

I drove as quickly as possible to the house, fixing my hair and collecting myself before going in. The soft murmur of voicing was surprisingly calming. At least everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. I quickly made my way to the head of the table to greet Hannibal and apologise for my absence. I didn’t want him to be upset with me.

“Je suis terriblement désolé d'être en retard, Mon Amour, le temps m'a échappé.”

I placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. I knew Hannibal wasn’t much for public displays of affection but it felt appropriate. And I’m as certain he’d think the same.

“Suis-je pardonné?”

I placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in to give Meadow a kiss on her forehead as well as a silently apology for my tardiness. I noticed Hannibal’s eyes lingering on my hand and cursed under my breath. But quickly replaced a smile on my face. I swiftly moved to take my seat between Meadow and Will.

“Nous parlerons plus tard.” Hannibal offered.

“Of course, Darling.”

“You ok?” Will asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Just tried to get here as quick as I could.”

“I’m glad you could make it, Hannibal wouldn’t let us start without you.” Jack commented.

There was no malice in his words, just a playful dribble of banter. I sent him a small smile and rolled my eyes.

“We’ll please, don’t starve on my account.” I laughed.

The food Hannibal prepared was delicious as always. I didn’t realise how hungry I was until I took the first bite.

“So, Meadow, Hannibal tells me you’re a professor at the local university.” A man I’d never met before asked her.

I glanced over his appearance, it was clear he was trying to impress his host. But the smug look that never seemed to leave his face annoyed me. His body was tense, but not overly so. Like he was straining to make polite conversation.

“Oh, yes. I quite enjoy my job. I’m an Entomology professor.”

“Entomology?” He asked.

“They study bugs.” Will offered an answer.

“Wasn’t aware there was much to study there.” He commented flippantly.

My fork was firmly planted on my plate as I clenched my fists under the table and took a deep breath. How dare this stranger come into our house and be rude to my Meadow. But I had to remain civil, I’d already lost my cool once today. And being late didn’t put me in any favour with my beloved. I couldn’t mess this up, it was one dinner.

“Most scientific studies are actually quite impressive and require a great level of intellect, don’t you think?” I asked.

“I suppose so, I don’t believe we’ve been introduce yet. Frederick Chilton.” He offered.

“Frances.”

“Just Frances?” He challenged.

“Just Frances.”

Will gave a confused look from beside me. Probably thrown off by my unusual behaviour.

“I didn’t mean anything by my earlier statement Miss Meadow, I hope you take no offence. I was simply unaware of that branch of science.”

“It’s alright Mr. Chilton.” She shot me a warning look, “most people don’t put much thought into insects. They’re quite exquisite creatures, very important to our ecosystem.”

“I believe you.”

“Mosquitos cannot possibly be important.” Jack laughed.

“And that’s where you’re wrong Mr Crawford. They’re very important in the fertilisation of plants. Though I do suppose we could survive without them, no species relies solely on them for substance.”

“Like I said, not important.”

She laughed as his joke.

“I guess not.”

“Did you know the females only seek blood after they’ve laid their eggs? They require protein to recover.” I added to the conversation.

Meadow looked pleasantly surprised. I chuckled lightly.

“I do listen when you talk, Mon Coeur.”

“Are you from France?” Frederick asked.

I raised my eyebrow at him.

“Oui monsieur, I was moved to America by my previous dance company when I turned fifteen. Maintained my citizenship shortly after that. The United States immigration system is far more forgiving to children.”

“And what was that like?” Alana asked.

“What, moving?” I asked confused.

“No, living in France. Do you miss it?”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“Sometimes. I don’t remember most of it, stages look the same everywhere, you know?”

“Perhaps I should take you back to France again someday.”

Hannibal spoke up for the first time in a long time that night. He was often content with just listening, a side effect of his job I guess. His words were soft and sincere, at least he was content to be mad at me all evening.

“I would enjoy that very much.” I smiled at him.

“You’ve been to France before right Hannibal?” Alana asked him.

“Yes, a few times now actually. It’s nice there, very quiet.”

He was right, it was quiet. But I couldn’t really bring myself to miss it. What did I have there? Nothing. No one. And quiet got boring. But here, I was never bored. I had friends, and a family. The best partners I could ever have asked for, and I wasn’t even looking. I’m the grand scheme of all the bullshit in my life, they were more than worth it. They made me whole, the way I never thought I could be. I didn’t notice a small tear escape and roll down my cheek.

“You alright Frances?” Will asked once more that evening.

“Huh?”

I quickly wiped the tear from my cheek.

“Yeah, I think I just need a moment. Excuse me.”

I pushed my chair out from under than me and quickly sauntered over to one of our guest rooms. I felt stupid for crying. I hated crying. It was the absolute worst feeling in the world. Even if they were mostly happy tears. So then, why did I feel so awful right now? I heard a gentle knock on the door and was surprised to see Will. He peaked his head in through the door and when he saw no hesitation from me he entered, closing the door behind him.

“What, Hannibal couldn’t even leave his own dinner party?” I joked.

But it didn’t seem to land as his frown deepened.

“I’m worried about you.” He said.

“Don’t be.”

“I’m serious Frances.” He sat beside me on the bed. “You’re my best friend, and you deserve to be happy.”

“And how many times have I said that same thing to you, Mon Ami?”

“Une fois de trop.” He laughed.

It was nice that he and Hannibal could understand me. Meadow didn’t know much French yet but she was learning, and it meant everything to me. She was so cute when she stumbled over her words, and got all flustered after. William placed his hand on mine, making me turn to look at him.

“I’m just-“ I sighed, “I just love them so much, and I know it’s stupid-“

“That’s not stupid.”

“I’ve never loved anybody before William. And I guess I’m scared. We don’t exactly have the most traditional relationship.”

“You hate traditions.” He pointed out.

I laughed softly. He always knew how to make me feel better.

“What happened to your hand?”

“Punched some dumb asshole.”

The look of shock on his face was something to savour. It was hilarious.

“I gotta tell Hannibal but I’m afraid he’ll be upset with me. I was already late, and I keep thinking, what if this is it? What if he realises I’m too much to deal with and leaves me. I mean, why wouldn’t he? He has Meadow and she’s perfect. God, she’s so fucking perfect Will!”

I exasperatedly threw my hands up and fell backwards onto the bed. I hadn’t expected him to start laughing. Why the hell was he laughing? I shot back up and looked at him bewildered.

“Frances I swear, sometimes you are the dumbest person I know.”

“Gee, thanks.” I deadpanned.

“They fucking love you, everyone can see it. The way Meadow’s face lights up every-time you walk into a room. The way she leans in with a smile when you’re talking. And Hannibal, he keeps your favourite flowers in his office because he knows you’re allergic, but they make him smile every-time he looks at them. And he has a photo of the three of you proudly displayed in his desk. It’s the only piece of personal decor in that clinical room.”

“Really?”

“Yes! Frances nobodies leaving you. You think after everything we’ve all been through, you punching some idiot is gonna be the straw that breaks the camels back?”

“I guess that does sound kinda silly.” I sighed. “And Hannibal’s therapy is wearing off on you, you’re starting to sound like him.” I joked, nudging his shoulder.

“Don’t ever say that again.”

I raised my hands in mock surrender.

“Now, I know Frederick is another dumb asshole, but you think you can go back out there and not punch him in the face?”

“I don’t know, will be a pretty difficult task.”

“You’ve never met a task you couldn’t accomplish.”

I smiled.

“What would I do without you Will?”

“Oh you’d definitely be a total disaster.” He grinned.

“You’re lucky I love you.” I squinted.

I head him softly mutter a “yeah I am.”

The rest of the dinner went by smoothly. At least I knew if nobody had my back, Will did. Well him and Winston, that dog was the cutest thing on the damn planet. Will was the last to leave, lingering to make sure I was ok. I walked him to the door and bid him goodnight.

“You better give Winston and the others some love for me or else.”

“You spoil them too much.”

I scoffed.

“Says Mr I keep treats in my coat pocket in case I come across a new stray. Goodnight William.”

“Goodnight Frances.”

I slowly shuffled into the kitchen, knowing I had to get this over with. Hannibal was busy scrubbing dishes while Meadow dried them.

“I’m sorry I was late.” I started.

“It’s ok, we were just a little worried about you. You didn’t send me a text or anything.” Meadow said.

“Yeah sorry, got a bit caught up.”

“So you said.”

Shit, he sounded angry. I hated when he was angry.

“What happened to your hand?”

Of course there was concern, but his approach wasn’t nearly as gentle as Will’s. I fidgeted with my hands, but looked up when I heard the sink turn off. They were both looking at me now and I felt like a little kid.

“Does it hurt?” Meadow asked softly, breaking the tension a little.

I shook my head no.

“Ummm, I was at that job interview I was telling you about earlier.” I started.

Hannibal raised a brow, having never heard it mentioned until now. And I felt bad for that too. But I wanted to surprise him, I wanted it to be a good surprise. And now it just wasn’t.

“Oh, yeah, how did that go?” Her tone was a bit more cheerful.

“I got the job.” I said.

“That’s great, Frances, I’m so proud of you.”

“That doesn’t explain my question.”

I frowned. I knew he was upset but I figured if I delivered the good news first he’d at least be happy.

“Turns out, the interview wasn’t really meant to be an interview and now I feel stupid.” I mumbled.

All hardness dropped from his face and Meadow looked concerned. She came over to me, silently asking for permission if she could touch me, which I gratefully gave to her. She gently grabbed my hand, running her hands over the bruise.

“I’m sorry.” She stated simply.

It was sincere, earnest, now fluff to distract from its meaning. Which was something I loved so much about her. She didn’t surround herself with filler words with worthless meaning. If Meadow said something, you couldn’t help but believe it.

“What happened?”

It was still angry, but not at me. Which eased my nerves a little. I just stood there staring at my feet. I didn’t know how to explain what happened. I should have realised something was up.

“Frances, please.” He said softly.

I finally looked up at him and he looked defeated. It made my heart break.

“Umm, yeah.” God I cringed.

I sounded so weak and disoriented when I was upset. It’s like every word I ever knew flew from my head to fast for me to catch them.

“I was really excited when I got the phone call saying they were interested. But a few questions into the interview I realised he wasn’t really interested in an interview. You know I’m really bad about telling when people are flirting with me.”

“The interview was flirting with you?” And there was that anger again.

“But I promise I shut it down right away. I kept trying to dodge him until the interview was over but he kept pushing. He tried to kiss me when I went to leave, and I just sorta froze again. But then he started saying something about me not getting the job unless I gave him what he wanted and I lost it. So I punched him, god I’m so sorry Hannibal.”

I watched him take a shaky breath and prepared for him to yell at me, squeezing Meadow’s hand, but it never came.

“That’s awful, I’m so sorry you had to experience that.” Meadow said kindly.

She pulled me in for a hug.

“Why would you be sorry, Love?”

Hannibal said in a shaky breath.

“Did he hurt you?” He asked more evenly.

“No. After I punched him he called me a bitch. But I um, I told him that what he did was assault. And I may have mentioned that my best friend was in the FBI. So I guess I may or may not be blacking mailing my boss. But yay, new job right!” I tried to put on a smile.

“Absolutely not.” Hannibal seethed. “You’re not going anywhere near that man ever again.”

“Hannibal-“ Meadow tried.

“I said no. Frances there are other jobs, if I ever made you feel pressured to start working again that was not my intention.” He said honestly.

“Not jobs that I want. Hannibal I really really want this job. And I think it will be good for me. I can handle some perverted asshole. If I turned down a job every time someone tried to touch me I’d never have a job again.” I said dismissively.

Not of his feelings of course, more of my own. He had every right to be upset about the situation. We were engaged, I love him and somebody made me feel worthless and gross.

“Then you’re not getting a job.” He said.

“Darling, just please listen to them ok. You can be a little headstrong sometimes.”

“He tried to kiss them Meadow, does that not matter to you?”

I flinched a little at his tone. It was hard to remind myself that he wasn’t actually angry with either of us.

“Of course it does! How could you ask me that?”

Fuck, this isn’t what I wanted. I didn’t want to start a fight. Maybe Will was wrong, maybe I shouldn’t be here. It was my fault they were arguing and I felt helpless against it.

“I want to go down there and kick this man where the sun doesn’t shine, but Frances is trying to talk to us. The least we can do is listen to their reasoning.”

He sighed and turned back to see me now shaking. The panic in his eyes didn’t make me feel any better. He took a step toward me, but I stepped back, hugging my arms around myself.

“Frances?” He tried.

“Please don’t fight because of me. I don’t want you to fight.” I said frantically.

“I’m sorry I raised my voice. Everything ok My Love, just breath for me alright?”

I nodded, taking a shaky deep breath. He waited for me to calm myself a little before stepping near me again. This time I didn’t move and he swiftly swept me into a bone crushing hug. He gentle caressed my head.

“Tell me about this job, yeah?” He asked softly.

“It’s a teaching position. I’ll be teaching a few different style of dance to children a couple days a week. And one adult class on Friday evenings.” I explained.

Meadow stayed back, just watching.

“And you’ll be happy doing this.”

“I really will.”

He sighed once more.

“Fine, but I’m dropping you off on your first day. I want to meet him.”

“No!” Meadow and I said in sync.

“Relax my loves, I’m not going to do anything. I just want him to know he can’t touch what’s mine.”

I giggled lightly at that. Meadow rolled her eyes.

“So jealous.” She teased playful.

“I’m not jealous Darling, that would mean I’m envious of something that man has, which is highly unlikely. Jealousy is beneath me.”

“You keep telling yourself that buddy.”

I gently tapped on his chest twice, and he raised a brow looking down at me.

“You two are going to be the death of me, you know that right?” He asked.

Meadow joined in on the hug, crushing me between them.

“Oh no, dying surrounded by love and adoration, I feel so sorry for you.”

Her sarcasm was contagious. Hannibal rolled his eyes.

“Do me a favour,” Hannibal started.

“Yes, anything.” I said, smiling up at him.

“Next time you feel like you have to punch something, call me. I don’t want you damaging that pretty skin of yours.” He said smoothly.

He placed a gentle kiss on my knuckle and I giggled once more.

“Always the gentleman.” I teased.

“Are you alright from earlier?” He asked, referring to dinner.

“Yeah, William and I had a good chat. He’s good people Hannibal, please don’t ruin him.”

“I’m not ruining anybody, Darling, at least not anyone who didn’t deserve it. William is my friend.”

Such a simple answer. But I could tell he meant it.

“Thank you.”

I leaned up and kissed his cheek.

“I don’t know about the two of you, but all this arguing made me tired.” Meadow grinned, before sprinting off to the bedroom.

I followed quickly after her, trying to beat her to the bed. It was chidlinsh, but maybe that what we needed at a time like this. By the time Hannibal made it to the room, the two of us were nearly in a pillow fight. He chuckled softly leaning against the door frame. He cleared his throat, gaining our attention.

“Oh, and Frances… if your boss ever so much as looks at you wrong again, we’re having him for dinner.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that.

An: This all takes place before they were ever married still. Also I picked one of my special interests for Meadow’s career so then I can write more accurately about it. Can’t get in the mindset of a super smart college professor if you don’t know anything about the subject they’re supposed to be an expert in.

#Hannibal spouses #Hannibal #hannibal imagine #Hannibal x oc #Hannibal x reader #Hannibal lecter #meadow lecter #Frances lecter #alana bloom #Freddie Lounds #frederick chilton

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ragingbookdragon · 4 years ago

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I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 4

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language, ALL THE ANGST Tags!: @itsnottilly @cloudyskylines @starflyer-104 @justine-en @iwillstaywiththemforever @weirdgirlfromtx @edlothia-baby @soul-end @notsostraightweeb @candlestudy

Author's Note: Some of y'all didn't tag so see if that's something on your end. Enjoy the angst and cliffhanger! -Thorne

Wally didn’t come into the coffee shop for almost two whole months after their fight—not that she blamed him—she was still vaguely upset with his harsh words. But she had to admit that she’d gotten used to his warm presence every morning, and not seeing him messed her up more than she thought it would. More often than not, she found herself absentmindedly staring at the door, waiting for him to walk in with that stupid grin on his face and proceed to boast and recall whatever exciting exploits he and his friends had accomplished earlier. It hurt not to see or hear him, and she realized that Wally had become the greatest friend she’d ever had.

Barry still came in though, and if he knew who she really was, he didn’t say anything because he still acted like he always did. So, even if Wally were still angry with her, at least he’d kept his word and not said anything to anyone about her identity. Which if she were honest, tasted bitter when she thought about the price she paid for his silence—his friendship.

It was getting colder again, which meant a lot more people were coming and going from the shop, so at least she could take her mind off her feelings for at least a few hours. Until she got home, and all she was left with were them and a whole lot of silence to think about them with. Sometimes she thought about calling Wally, at least to hear his voice. Hell, even if their last words to one another were frigid, she missed the interaction. She’d give anything to hear him, even taking another round of cold snipes and trades.

She heaved a sigh and wiped down the last few tables of the evening rush, smiling politely at the people who were still sitting at tables or so across. Today had been hectic and there’d been no let up of customers until the last hour of the shift. She’d never thought they’d run out of coffee, but it came close to that a couple hours ago.

The bell above the door chimed and with her back turned to the entrance, she didn’t see who came in, but with another barista at the counter ready to take the final orders of the evening, she didn’t particularly care. All she wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed. Sleep until hell froze over. That, or until her feet stopped hurting—whichever came first. She let out a quiet laugh that made her chest ache—Wally would’ve found that absolutely hilarious and probably shot back about how if anyone had the right to complain about their feet hurting, it would be him. God, she really missed Wally.

“Melisandre,” someone called quietly, and she glanced over her shoulder, eyes widening when she saw the familiar red head behind her.

Speak and the Devil will appear.

“Wally,” she breathed, voice thick with shock, and before she could stop herself, she was throwing her arms around his waist, squeezing him tightly.

He returned her hug in fold. “I guess I wasn’t the only one who missed this,” he quipped.

She huffed a laugh and pulled away. “Believe it or not, it doesn’t feel right when you don’t come around.” Her eyes narrowed almost sadly. “I’ve missed seeing you, Wally.”

“Same here,” he replied, then glanced at the clock above the espresso machines. “Are you almost off? I want to take you somewhere.”

Nodding, she took a look at her watch. “I get off in about ten minutes. Can you wait that long, or will you perish from boredom?”

“I think I can survive ten minutes, Melisandre,” he retorted and collapsed into one of the booths. “Hurry though, I don’t want to be late.”

She rolled her eyes and deadpanned, “Wally, I can’t speed time up. That’s not how that works.”

“Works for me.” He proudly stated.

“I wonder why?” she retorted sarcastically, then gave him a smile before wandering off to clean the last tables.

***

Despite the fact that Wally could run anywhere he wanted in less than a second, he still owned a vehicle and that was downright baffling in her opinion.

“Dick got it for me.” He suddenly said, shifting the car into drive and she blinked internally wincing at the mention of her brother.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know you didn’t, (Y/N). But you were thinking it.”

“Uh huh,” she doubted and crossed her arms over her chest. “What am I thinking about right now?”

“Knowing you? Probably food, I know you like to ea—” he dissolved into laughter when she reached over and shoved at his side.

“No, I don’t you ass.”

“Really? Because I distinctly remember the time I took a fry off your basket and you looked at me like I’d killed your favorite dog.” (Y/N) glared at him and he pointed at her. “Yeah, that’s the look right there.”

“I don’t like sharing my food,” she said. “You should’ve known better.” Her eyes drifted to the windshield. “So, where are we going?”

“S.T.A.R. labs.”

(Y/N) cocked a brow and stared at him. “Really? S.T.A.R. labs? What’s there?”

Wally shrugged. “Wanted to show you a bit of what it’s like to be me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You mean you came to see me after all this time and the first thing we’re doing is going to a lab so you can show my what you do?”

His gaze momentarily darted to hers. “Is that a problem?”

“I dunno, I just figured we’d go eat a diner somewhere and apologize to each other.”

“Are you sorry?”

“Beg pardon?”

“Are you sorry? For all of the last three years?”

“Not particularly,” she griped, and he shrugged again.

“Then I’m not sorry for what we said to each other that night.” he let out a sigh. “But I’m willing to let it go, because I’d rather us just have a disagreement than lose what our friendship over it.” he looked at her. “What do you say?”

(Y/N) stared at him for a long moment, then she sighed and nodded. “…Yeah, I agree.”

Wally smiled. “Good.” He turned the wheel and pulled into the parking lot of the lab. “But there is food there for us, so you’ll be satiated anyways.”

“Hardy har har. Shut up, Wallace West,” she shot back, climbing out of the car. Her eyes traveled up the tall building. “Wow, this place is huge, isn’t it?”

She felt him stand next to her. “Yeah. Did you know they had to replace the glass windows a whole bunch of times because Barry and I kept shattering them when we’d run up ‘em?”

(Y/N) blinked, unsurprisingly stating, “No, I did not. But I can see that happening.”

He started towards the doors, leaving her to follow and soon they were stepping into an elevator. She watched him hit the rooftop button and she looked at him.

“If you’re showing me what you do, why are we going to the roof? Shouldn’t we be going to some laboratory inside?”

Wally chuckled. “Patience, young padawan.” He ignored her rolling eyes. “Food first.”

“Oh, dinner in the moonlight? Well, aren’t you just the romantic.” (Y/N) cocked her elbow on his shoulder and grinned. “Don’t tell me you fell in love with me all that time we spent away from each other?”

This time, he was rolling his eyes. “Hardly, (Y/N). I just figured you’d want a nice evening where you weren’t staring at your bland kitchen walls.”

She scoffed and pulled away from him. “Look, I’d paint and hang shit up but the landlord wouldn’t be happy.”

“Since when do you care about making people happy? You’re typically a ‘I’m going to make someone unhappy’ type of person.” Her eyes shifted to his and he waved a hand. “Not what you’re thinking about—I was talking about the coffee shop.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything, then she hummed. “There’s nothing more fun than telling someone I’m going to get the manager and then do my magic little spin and cheerfully greet, ‘Hi, I’m the manager’.” She grinned. “Does wonders to see Karen’s little head explode.”

Wally chuckled and the elevator dinged. The doors split open, and they walked out onto the rooftop. Surprisingly, the roof was enclosed and lighted, giving her perfect vision and when her eyes fell on them, her heart seemed to stop in her chest, and her feet to a halt.

They stood from the table they’d been sitting at and with her heart hammering against her ribcage, she immediately spun on her heel, intent to flee back into the elevator, only to come chest to chest with Wally, who wrapped his arms around her waist—effectively keeping her in place.

Her feet were still moving on their own accord and she shoved against his chest, trying to get back to the lift. “Wally, move.”

“No, (Y/N),” he murmured, and she could feel her breath starting to come in and out in panicked spurts.

“Wally, please, I’m begging you, move.” She stared up at him and plead, “Please don’t make me do this. I’ll do anything, just please let me leave.”

His evergreen eyes were narrowed in pity, but there was a firmness that rested within that pity and he shook his head. “I can’t let you leave, (Y/N).”

“Wally, please,” she begged, arms starting to go limp against his chest, the tears flooding her vision. “Don’t make me do this.”

“You’ve gotta stop running, (Y/N).”

She couldn’t help the sob that escaped her, and she rested her cheek against his chest. “I hate you…so much.”

“I know,” he murmured.

“You’re a liar and I hate you.”

Wally sighed. “I know you do.”

(Y/N)’s face contorted in anger despite her pain. “I should’ve left the night we fought. I knew you wouldn’t be capable of keeping it from him. From any of them,” she sneered and suddenly pulled away from his grip, eyes flashing with rage.

“This wasn’t your right to tell!” she shouted at him and shoved him in the chest. Wally didn’t budge an inch and she shoved him again. “God, I was so naïve to assume you’d keep your fucking mouth shut! That’s one thing you’re not capable of doing!”

She growled and turned from him, running her hands over her face. “Three years of relative peace shot straight down the fucking drain,” she shot him a teary glower. “All because of you and your big bleeding heart for your best friend.”

Wally frowned. “I’m doing what I think is best, (Y/N).”

“Forcing me to meet them isn’t what’s best, Wally! I didn’t want to be found! I didn’t want to be associated with them again!” she snarled and in an instance her anger cooled, her shoulders drooping as she lamented, “…This wasn’t a decision you should’ve made. This was never your right to decide. For me…or for them.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t,” he agreed. “But if you weren’t going to draw the line in the sand, I was.”

(Y/N) met his gaze and held it for a long moment, then she turned her attention to the four men who were standing in front of the table, their expressions a mixture of regret, anger, and relief.

She let out a long sigh and reached up to rub at her temples. “Let me guess, I’m not allowed to leave until we’ve had our picture-perfect reunion scene?”

Wally nodded. “The elevator is sadly,” his hand shot backwards and with a sharp crackle of lightning, the light went out. “out of order.”

(Y/N) shook her head in disappointment at him then declared, “The next time I run, I’m settling in a city that has no superheroes.”

“Good plan,” he quipped. “But I don’t think there’ll be anymore running.”

She got up in his face and hissed, “Then you underestimate my feelings regarding the brothers and father before me.”

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years ago

Text

Learn to Fly

CW: Self-loathing, some internalized victim-blaming, references to parental death and grief, VERY vague reference to past noncon once or twice

Note: I made a decision to switch a little of the timeline around, so Laken and Chris’s breakup at this point happens after the original conversations about the Speak Out Arc start happening but before the Olympics themselves. I’m folding this bit into the larger Speak Out Arc.

Follows Time Apart and It Doesn’t Work As Well As You’d Hoped

He curls up on the couch in the coffeeshop, sipping something warm he barely tastes. It might have coffee in it - he feels a little drowsy, and that usually happens when there’s just a little caffeine.

Maybe that’s just because he hasn’t slept since Jake was hurt, not really. And he’s slept even less since... since he and Laken broke up.

Outside, there's unseasonable heavy rain. The clouds are low and heavy, a deep gunmetal gray that blocks out the light and has the streetlights on at 9:30 in the morning. The raindrops seem less to fall than to slam into the ground with terrible violence.

The baristas talk in low voices about how grateful they are for the rain, burying the wildfires outside the city in a deluge the heat can’t overcome. Chris likes the rain, too, if only because it reflects the inside of him, suggests that the world can tell he is a storm within himself and reflects it to him.

He takes another sip.

He hasn’t showered in three days. His hair is dulled with it, like a penny left too long in the dirt. He’s dressed himself like he used to, back before when he was still learning he was a person and not a pet - in one of Jake’s hooded sweatshirts over his compression shirt, so oversized on him it’s nearly a tunic, and a pair of mesh basketball shorts. His knees still look knobby, he thinks.

He can see the ghosts of the bruises there that used to never quite heal before his Sir sent him to his knees and made new ones to lay over them. He can see a couple of scars, some from training when the baton would crack into the backs of his legs and send him dropping like a stone, some from gymnastics, some from just being a kid.

Chris’s eyes lower, to look at his own hands holding his coffee cup. He put star stickers on his nails last night, and a few of them have already peeled off. Those that remain glitter, just a little.

Something about the sight of it - the memory of when he put star stickers on Laken’s cheekbones at a concert until they sparkled under the starlight, laughing, a blur of bright eyes and dark hair - makes his throat nearly close, sends a new rush of tears to burn hot behind his eyes.

He has to close them to hold them back.

“You’ve had a hard time of late, have you, then?”

The voice is a rumble, cracked with decades of cigarettes and too much liquor, but Chris remembers it, anyway. At least, he remembers it now.

He turns to look up at the old man, in his shirt and slacks, a bit bent with age. There’s a merry twinkle in his slightly rheumy eyes, though, that shows that a young man is still there, under an old man’s experiences. There’s a slight smile on his face, warm and welcoming.

Chris swallows, struggling to find the words. They flit away from him, he has to chase them down, but eventually he manages to clear his throat and says, “I, I, um. I know you. You, you, you knew my dad.”

“I did, at that. Worked with him for years.” The old man settles onto the other end of the couch, giving Chris plenty of space, a nice wide berth for safety. “What’s got you looking like a television commercial for depression, hm, Tristan?”

No one calls him that.

Chris feels his heart twist, a little.

By the time they saw the meteor, Tris, it was already too late for anything but a blink or two. When it touched down into land, it was so big the end of it was still in space. Can you imagine anything so big? Can you?

No, Dad.

The earthquakes alone would have been immense thousands of miles away. Imagine, you’re eating leaves, living your life, and you see a shadow - and then in an instant, the world is shaking and you’re breathing glass. How does life go on after that?

I, I, I don’t know, um, um... how how does it?

It just does. That’s what’s amazing, Tris. It just goes on.

“Nothing. I, I, I broke up with my, my partner is all.”

“Hm, that nice young person who comes with you to the shops?” The old man nods, slowly. He’s got his own cup of coffee, plain black, steaming gently into the air-conditioning. Outside, the rain creates a curtain that walls them off from everything else. Chris can’t even see all the way across the street. He can barely see a woman with an umbrella racing from her car into the nail salon place off to the side.

“Yeah, them. I’m, um. It wasn’t anything they they they did.”

It’s something I did.

It’s something I am.

It’s something I’ll never stop being.

“Well, breakups do happen now and again. Usually the one who does the leaving isn’t the one who does the moping about and staring at rain, though.”

“I didn’t want to.” Chris sits back, keeping his coffee cup in one hand. The other drops to his stomach, to tap, soothing his nerves at being so close to a man he knows and doesn’t-know. His memories are there, fuzzy and hazy from being overwritten by fear and pain, but they’re there. He knows this man, Mr. Malley, who would watch him sometimes when his parents went out, or when his father needed to stop by work.

The memories are there, but they still hurt.

His head starts to throb, a pulsing pain behind his temples.

“I didn’t-... I, I love them, I d-didn’t want to.”

“Well, now, that’s a conundrum, isn’t it? Are you moving, then, Tristan?”

It hurts to hear his name, but it hurts in a way that feels good. He was that person, too, before he was Chris. He hums, low under his breath. “No. I, I, I just… you know, um, I’m just. I’m… hard. Difficult. To, to, to, to be with, to, um, to-... there’s a bunch wrong with-... with me.”

“You sound like your dad.” Mr. Malley laughs, a deep chuckle that rumbles more in his chest than out of his throat. “You know that? You sound just like him.”

Chris ignores the pain in his head and he turns, now, to look fully at Mr. Malley, blinking rapidly. “My, my, my dad?”

“Yep. Paul was a good man, and a good dad, but before he was that he was a scared boy with a baby on the way and a plan that might not work.” Mr. Malley sighs. “A scared boy who’d always had it a little rough, trying to make the world work for him when it did nothing but work against him. You were always his spitting image. He’d probably be tickled to see you still are.”

There is a sense, in Chris’s mind, of a blurry man with short red hair, sitting near him but not quite touching him, speaking with animation about how there are dinosaurs that lived closer to human beings than they did to other dinosaurs.

He remembers a man whose eyes sparkled with animated focus when he talked about the world millions of years ago, who loved him by sharing the information he held within his own mind.

He and his dad had understood each other, in ways that no one else did but his mother, and Chris was beginning to see that it had been her determination to know him that had fueled his mother’s actions, her endless support. The same way Jake and Nat were determined, and stubborn, and kept trying even when they got it wrong.

Everyone gets it wrong sometimes, but that doesn’t… that doesn’t mean they aren’t trying.

Maybe he got it wrong.

“He never broke up with your mom, but oh, he thought about it. You know, when he came to work with us, he had a plan. But plans… they have a way of going off the road and into a ditch. He worried he couldn’t make it work, he worried that it would be too hard for Ronnie to be with him and have a child, too.”

Ronnie.

Chris’s throat closes up, and he closes his eyes.

All right, Tris, I got you these so the noise won’t bother you so much. We’re going to have a good day at the parade, okay?

“Her family never liked him, for one. That’s a rough spot to be in, I think.” Mr. Malley is quiet for a moment, sipping his coffee and watching the rain fall. “Ronnie didn’t see it that way, of course. That woman was a freight train and God help anyone who got in the way. My late wife, God rest her soul, helped Ronnie with some things when her own family wouldn’t. She’d come over big as a house, eyes sparkling. You were a kicker, she used to say, kept her up all hours of the night. Just a girl, still, your mom, but she had a steel spine and she wasn’t going to live any life but the one she wanted. But your dad… he worried, that it would be too hard on her.”

“Having, um, having me would?”

“No. Having him. Paul was a smart man, you know. He knew his job would be trouble. He gave her chance after chance to go, if she wanted. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? She didn’t.”

Chris looks at his phone, lying on the little table in front of the couch. There’s some text messages he hasn’t looked at. Couple of voicemails he hasn’t listened to.

“Maybe he, he, he didn’t want to keep hurting her,” Chris whispers.

“Hurt’s a part of living, lad, take it from someone who’s given out his fair share of it and more.” Mr. Malley hums. Outside, a car pulls up, almost bumping the curb. “Perhaps you’re meant to separate from your young partner, Tristan, perhaps not. It’s like I told your dad, way back in the Stone Age. You choose if you love someone, to be sure, but they choose if they love you back. You can’t decide that for them.”

“But, but I’m-... but, but I’ve been… what I am, it’s-”

“I know what you’ve been made to do,” Mr. Malley says gently. “You don’t have to explain, lad. We knew.”

Chris’s lips tremble. He doesn’t want his coffee any longer. He sets it down next to his phone, on the little table. The baristas talk quietly about a date that one went on the night before, there’s a low sound of machinery. It all filters into Chris’s mind, a cacophony of sound he picks apart or doesn’t. Right now it’s hard for him to think around all the sound, but he tries. “Then, then, then why… if you knew, um, why… didn’t you-”

He can’t finish the question.

Why didn’t you save me from it?

“We couldn’t. It’s shite, is what it is, but we couldn’t. And by the time we could, you were with that nice young man who you live with now. I’m sorry for the time you lost, Tristan, and sorrier still I can’t give it back to you somehow. You’re your dad’s child through and through, but you’ve got your mother in you, too. You know what Ronnie did when there was something she couldn’t get through?”

Chris turns to look at this man, who knew his mother and father in ways he never could have. He swallows. “What?”

“She went over it. Or around it. Or blew it to smithereens and went through the wreckage. Whatever it took. They tried to kick you out of school when you were a wean, she fought them ‘til they realized they’d never win against her. They tried to tell her you wouldn’t read, she told them to go, well, to go sit on a thing or two and not to tell her what her boy could or couldn’t do.”

Chris thinks of Nat sitting next to him on the floor, patiently encouraging him to keep trying to turn the letters into words, despite his headaches, his tears, his certainty he’d never get reading back.

You will, Chris. I know you will. Just keep fighting for it. They won’t take anything from you forever, I won’t let them and you won’t let them either.

Don’t let them keep you from yourself.

“They told her she’d never have a happy life, having a wee one so young, but she built that happy life anyway with her own two hands and dared anyone to try and knock it down.”

“Someone… some, someone did, though.” The gunshots, his mother’s eyes going dull and blank, her whispered I love you so much, Tris…

“Sure. Yes.” Mr. Malley’s expression goes serious, and sad. “But it took breaking into her house at midnight and bullets to stop her. You’ve got plenty of your mom in you, lad. Plenty of your dad, too, he was always a stubborn git himself. Do you love this person you’ve broken up with? Hm?”

“Yes.” The answer comes without hesitation, even though his voice shakes and his heart races. “I, I, I do. That’s, that’s why I don’t want to-to keep hurting them by, by, by by being messed up from what, um, from what happened to me, I don’t… I don’t want to keep h-hurting them-”

“Let them decide how they feel about that,” Mr. Malley says, voice gentle and low. “Plenty of people are hurt and find their way forward together after.”

Jake and Kauri, laughing in the kitchen as Jake spins Kauri around in a circle, dips him backwards, presses a kiss to his nose that has him giggling.

Antoni at the stove, sighing but with a smile on his face, watching them. Being pulled into the hug not quite against his will, all three of them laughing then. Kauri bright and sparkling, Jake a deeper harmony, Antoni soft and genuine.

“Maybe it won’t last, maybe it will - but don’t let a hard past keep you from the people who love you. I’ve seen many ruined by believing you may only be loved if you’ve no pain inside you. We’ve all got pain, lad. Carrying it together’s a sight easier than trying to go it alone.”

From the car parked right outside, an elderly man unfolds himself, opening an umbrella to shield from the driving rain. Mr. Malley looks up and smiles. “Ah, right on time, must be ten sharp. That’ll be Cilly. D’you remember Cilly, lad?”

Chris looks as the man shuffles his way inside, pushing open the door. The little bell over the top jingles and the baristas cut off their conversation, standing up straight to call out a familiar greeting to a regular customer.

He squints.

“Not… not very well,” He confesses, a little ashamed.

“Ah, well, that’s not a problem. He and I’ve known each other a long time. I was an angry man for a while after my wife died, you know. Seemed a crime that I should outlive her, when Christa deserved to live to a hundred and six if she so wished. Cilly helped me carry that anger when I needed to be angry, and he helped me put it down later on.”

He gives a wave to the man - to Cilly - who looks at Chris and then back to Mr. Malley with clear surprise, then heads towards the counter to make his own order.

“Be angry, Tristan,” Mr. Malley says, a little heavily, leaning over to him on the leg as he pushes himself, with a grunt of effort to his feet. “You may need your anger, in the days ahead. But if you’ve a love to help you carry it, who wants to help you carry it and who will be angry right there with you, and you love them back… well… don’t let the wickedness of others keep you from the happiness you could have. You’ll be a poorer person for it.”

Mr. Malley walks away without another word, leaving Chris by himself again on the couch, tapping at his stomach, thinking. He keeps looking at his phone, thinking about all the texts he hasn’t read, the way he’s refused to call them back when Laken kept trying to reach him.

He leans over to reach out.

He stops, hand hovering just above the plastic with its colorful case, the sensory sticker on the back of it that Laken had bought him.

What happened after all the dinosaurs died, Tristan?

I, I, I don’t know, Dad.

Trick question, buddy. They didn’t. Paul’s eyes, bright and vibrant, gesturing to a bird in a tree nearby. Nothing stays the same and lives forever except alligators and sharks.

Right because, because they’re perfect.

Exactly. Dinosaurs died, sure, but they didn’t die, too. They just changed to suit the world after the one they knew how to live in was gone. Imagine, Tris.

Imagine what?

Imagine the world destroyed and in darkness, buried in ash. Everything you know is gone, ruined, wrecked beyond repair. And imagine… imagine that you learn to eat seeds and little mice instead of big animals and leaves. Imagine you become smaller and smaller. Imagine that your arms turn to wings, that your bones hollow out to carry you higher above the piles of ash that turn to grass and to life again.

What? I, I, I don’t, um, I don’t understand-... Dad, um, I don’t, I don’t... know what you mean.

Right, sorry. Just... imagine you’re a dinosaur.

He’d laughed. Okay.

Now imagine your dinosaur family is gone, and you have to become something else. What do you become? Being a dinosaur means dying, right?

Um. Right.

So imagine that you look at death and say, no thanks. No, you’re not going to be over. This isn’t it for you. Even a meteor the size of the entire sky can’t end you. Instead of dying out, no, you look at history, at geological time, and you say…

Paul had trailed off.

Say what? What, what do I say?

Don’t tell your mom but-... you look at the end of the world and you say... fuck this, I’m going to learn to fly.

Chris picks up his phone, finds Laken’s name and photo in his contacts. It’s a photo of the two of them together, Chris and Laken smiling and laughing as he smears whipped cream on their nose and they smear a cross of fluffy white into his forehead.

He dials.

They pick up on the third ring.

“Chris? Oh my God, Chris, are you okay? Are you-... are you okay, baby?” Their voice shakes, and he closes his eyes.

This time, he lets the tears slip out and run down his face. “H-Hey, Laken, um, I, I, I-... I’m… I wondered if you, um, if you could, uh… are you busy?”

“Am I-... Chris, where are you?”

“The, um, the coffeeshop-”

“I’m on my way. Don’t you dare fucking move.”

At their usual table, at their usual time, Cilly and Sean Malley start to talk amicably about the week ahead. But he keeps an eye on Paul’s boy, where he speaks a few sentences and then hangs up the phone, looking out the window at the rain.

It’s twenty minutes before a new car pulls up outside, and umbrella-less, the partner Sean has seen with Tristan before comes racing inside, a blur of black clothes and black hair and brown skin. Paul’s boy stands, and his partner throws themself at him so hard the two of them fall backwards onto the couch.

They start laughing, and shortly after to cry.

Their hands come up to either side of Tristan’s face, and they lean forward to kiss the scar on his forehead. He can’t hear what they say to each other, but he doesn’t need to.

Ronnie, he thinks, would like this spitfire person that Paul’s boy is so in love with.

That’s one wrong put right, at least for the moment.

One more to go.

Sean smiles and sips his cooling coffee.

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears

Just Go On from Kimmy Schmidt

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displacedentities · 4 years ago

Text

Night Out

My quickfic for @doodledrawsthings Coffee Shop AU! In truth I had this in the books for months and just never got around to finish it ;u; Unfortunately only the muse can decide when it’s time to slap me with enough serotonin to work on this, so I rode the high from recent art and wrapped it up! It’s not as clean as I wanted, but you know what, have it anyway.

-Myst -----

Finally. Another shift in the books.

With a heavy sigh, Luka stretches his back as the clock chimes up on the wall over the glass doors. Deft fingers untie the back before he slips the fabric apron over his head. A light snap of magnets punctuates the white noise of steaming coffee machines, and Luka stuffs his nametag into his pants pocket.

Luka was embarrassed to think about how much of a struggle it was to steady on for the entirety of the workday. Stress ate at him all the time, over so many things. Harriet was priority number one - did he remember to prep her meals for the day? Was she still ok, back in the apartment? Was Professor Popcorn in need of more repairs? Luka would happily handle such a task, of course, but...

He wasn't guaranteed to have thumbs when the evening finally came. There was his time limit to think about.

"Hey Luka?"

Damn, but being cursed was such a pain. Chopping vegetables was a particular bane of his existence. How could he trust himself with a knife like that? Ugh. He hated to make Harriet do it - no child should be wielding a knife before the age of 13, for any reason. He'd just have to MacGyver a solution or something.

"Luka..."

And on top of that, he had the upcoming bills to fret over. Rent was due in a few days, and he'd made a decent amount in tips, but they could not afford to have their upstairs neighbor burst a pipe again. He and Harriet had spent the entire afternoon toweling up their poor carpets to avoid getting mildew. Or worse, bugs. Luka was a fan of bugs, but not in his carpets, or sneaking into the mattress where they could bite his daughter.

"HEY!"

This time, the voice manages to pierce the haze of worry writhing in Luka's brain. Jolting to attention, the auburn-haired adult turns around, blinking owlishly at his colleague, Clover.

The braided redhead is giving him a wan smile, her brows furrowed in worry as she sets down a large bag of coffee beans under the counter.

"You spaced out again, buddy. Did you hear a word I said?" the barista asks, folding her arms over her stained apron.

"Uhh... you said my name," Luka replied, feeling a bit awkward as he chuckles once. "Sorry, I probably missed anything you might have asked me."

"I was asking if you ever go out."

"Ah- what?"

That was unexpected. Go out?

"You know-" Clover holds up her hands to gesture to the world in general, and beyond the coffee shop doors "-out! Like, with friends or anybody?"

Ah.

Luka laughs once, rubbing a hand on one side of his face.

"You mean since I moved into town? Nah, not really. Me and my daughter have only been here a few months - can't say we made many friends just yet."

Nor was that a risk they could take. Who knows how long they could stay here, before he was inevitably found out? One could argue it was a risk just- doing what he was doing now. Trying to hold a job, staying in an apartment; a semi-permanent living situation. They'd been on the road so long, old habits were quite hard to break. And if he was entirely honest with himself, Luka didn't know yet if he felt safe, even six months past the first day he arrived in the rural town of Subcon.

Clover's frown deepens, her arms dropping back to her sides. Her dropped guard betrays her worry, before she tries to play it off with another lighthearted smile and upbeat words.

"Oh come on, it can't have been that long since you've just done something fun for the sake of it. When was the last time you went out with friends and enjoyed yourself?" she asks.

"Why is this important?" Luka asks, his own guard slowly rising. He didn't quite see where she was going with this, but he wasn't sure he'd like it.

Oops- maybe not the most polite way to phrase that, as he sees an awkward flinch on Clover's face. Quick, recover! Luka chuckles once, also trying to lighten the mood.

"You and MJ never really asked me that kind of stuff before. I thought I was hired to serve coffee, not tea."

"We serve both, ya doofus," Clover smirks, rubbing one of her well-muscled arms with the other in a self-conscious gesture. "You should know that, since you've been working here almost four months now. And uh- well, MJ just kind of noticed you always seem very tired whenever you leave work."

Luka smiles back, but it's forced. Careful. Don't give any hints that it's anything serious. Don't be suspicious.

"Oh, that? I uh- I'm not used to the retail scene. I'll probably adapt to it soon."

Clover doesn't seem convinced. Still, her expression is sympathetic, rather than judgmental or suspicious. She leans her back on the counter, looking over Luka's exhausted demeanor and baggy eyes with a skeptical smile.

"I'm sure you will." She rests her hands on the counter. "In the meantime, you should go out for bowling with me and MJ! We were planning this outing for about a week, and maybe you'd wanna come with?"

Luka stops mid-folding of his apron. He turns toward Clover with surprise.

"Bowling? As in- knocking over pins in an alley, bowling?"

Clover rolls her eyes, amused. "No, as in rolling cereal bowls. Yes, that kind of bowling, Luka. It'll be fun! Eat some cheap pizza, knock over pins, watch the uncanny valley animations on the TV screen, the whole shebang. You up for joining us?"

"I uh- I didn't know there was a bowling alley here?" Luka says, his voice pitching up as he gives a sheepish laugh. "I- I don't know..."

Shit.

He could already feel the first touches of his curse starting to well up. A quick glance to his hands- okay, no purple yet. But it was coming.

Luka tucks his hands behind his back just in case.

"I'm not sure, I have Harriet to worry about..." he fumbles, rushing to think of excuses. It hurts his heart a little when he sees the disappointed expression Clover wears.

"Are you sure?" she asks, her tone gentle. "It'll only be a for a couple of hours - I could ask Cookie next door if she'd be willing to handle your daughter for the night. She's a fantastic sitter, and your daughter would have Mu to play with."

Luka opened his mouth, preparing to turn it down- then closed it again, brows furrowed as he chews over the thought.

Only a few hours... hm. His curse's current time limit was somewhere a little short of eight hours, he was sure. As long as he didn't have to pick up a shift at work, he would have most of his day free to spend out of the motel. An outing to a bowling alley couldn't possibly last eight hours, though he'd... never actually gone bowling before.

"I.... don't know... I've never been bowling, I'll just hold you back-"

"Nonsense," Clover says, waving off his excuse immediately. "MJ and I aren't professionals or anything, Luka - it's just for fun! You've never been?? That means you've gotta try it, at least once. Please?"

...mmh. Luka would be lying if he said he wasn't very tempted. But he had so much to worry about! His daughter, his curse... keeping his job, being able to support the two of them. Not to mention, getting used to his slow camaraderie with Clover and MJ. That sort of outing would throw their friendship into first gear.

"It's ok," Clover interrupts his thoughts, standing back up straight as she grabs a rag and finishes wiping down the counter. "You don't have to come, we just thought... you know, it might be fun. You look like you need some serious time to unwind, dude. All we ever see of you is showing up to work, dealing with customers, then you leave. And hey, if you change your mind, the offer's still open."

Luka curls his fingers, foot tapping the floor in small fidget.

"Well, I'm gonna start closing up the back," Clover says, tossing the rag into a laundry bin next to the employee break room. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Wait!"

Clover stops, turning around with the laundry basket.

"What day were you planning to do it?"

What am I thinking?? I can't go on an outing with them!

Unaware of Luka's silent stresses, Clover beams, her smile lighting up once again.

"Saturday! Would that work for you?"

"Mnhg- maybe?" Luka concedes, forcing his own sheepish smile despite his brain screaming No nO this is a bad idea! His mouth continues to run away from him. "Saturday is my errand day - me and Harriet go out for groceries in the morning, and eat out at whatever lunch restaurant she picks. I wouldn't be open until the evening, and Sunday's game day for me and my daughter."

Bad idea, what are you doing?!

"That's perfect!" Clover says, delighted and still not privy to Luka's inner struggle. "If we close the shop at five, we can drive to the bowling alley around 5:30, play a game or two and eat. Should go until about... eight-ish? How's that sound?"

Say no, say NO!

"Sure, sounds fun."

AGH!

"Great!" Clover says, a skip in her step as she lopes off to the back room with the laundry basket. "I'll text MJ to let him know - he's already gone back to his apartment."

"Yeah, I'll uh- I'll text him too," Luka chuckles, scratching behind his head with one hand- and immediately putting a stop to that action, as he feels the points of sharp claws dig at his scalp. Both arms are dropped and tucked behind his back, a big smile on his face. "Gotta give him the full details and everything, haha..."

"No problem- see you!" Clover bids Luka goodbye, waving one hand as she cheerily hauls the laundry bin off into the back.

"Bye!" Luka says, his voice cracking from nerves.

Oh thank god she's gone.

Luka pulls his hands back out into view, and sees the telltale purple staining begin to creep up his flesh. Peck. It was already starting- Clover left just in time. He could already feel the sharp ends of his canines starting to poke into his bottom lip. He didn't have much left of the day in human form- he had to get home right now.

Snatching up his belongings from his locker, stuffing his work apron inside, Luka loops his bag over his shoulder and leaps over the service counter. He missed the rack of sugar packets this time, thankfully, his sneakers squeaking on the tile floor as he bolts out the door. The bell rings as the glass entryway opens and shuts, signaling his departure. Car keys are whipped out of his bag, a slowly deforming finger just managing to push the button to unlock the vehicle as he clambers inside. Just five minutes- he could make five minutes.

The engine of the car roars to life, and Luka zips off out of the employee parking space, trying his best to ignore it as his fingers swell and fuse together, and his eyes reflect golden light in the rear view mirror.

------

MJ's car putters up to outside the bowling alley, fixing his blue-dyed hair with a sigh. Clover, in the passenger seat, drums her hand on the door handle with excitement.

"This is gonna be so much fun," she says, turning to look over her shoulder at the stiff and uncomfortable Luka in the backseat. "I'm so glad you decided to come, Luka- we'll show you the ropes of bowling!"

"Great," the young man says, putting up another shaky smile as his fingers tense around his kneecaps. "Can't wait!"

"That's the spirit," MJ speaks up, giving Luka a quick smile of his own before twisting the key in the ignition. The car's engine dies down, the doors unlocking as MJ shifts the gear into park. "Clover told me you were nervous about hanging out, and that's completely fine by me - if you feel uncomfortable and don't want to stay, just let us know, ok? We'll drive you back to the apartment building, no hesitation."

Luka inhaled deeply, letting out a heavy sigh from the back seat of the car. It felt like his nerves were trying to shake him apart. A glance at his watch-

Was he really going forward with this?

...Yes. He was. As much as Luka worried, Clover had been right. It'd been far too long since he'd taken 'me' time.

Luka puts a hand on the door and pulls the handle, stepping out of the car before he has a chance to psyche himself out.

It's just a couple hours. He still had plenty of time, after his midday outings with Harriet.

Stay calm. You can do this.

The sign above the brick building shines with neon lights, saying 'Pins & Cushions' in bright blue and red. The backdrop is a painting that Luka can swear was painted in the 80s, displaying a bowling ball as it barrels into pins and knocking them askew with a cartoony impact mark.

"Pins & Cushions?" he says aloud, smirking a little bit.

"Kind of silly, right?" MJ speaks up, locking the car behind him with a click. "Sounds more like a sewing parlor than a bowling alley."

"It's because they boasted having cushioned chairs," Clover says, snickering. "You've never been, but most bowling alleys have these awful plastic chairs that hurt to sit on for too long."

"You mean like the chairs in high school?"

Luka's joke earns a quick bark of a laugh from Clover.

"Couched seating areas in a bowling alley was, sadly, a craze that never caught on," MJ says, ascending the concrete steps up to the building. "But this one did, and the place is like forty years old and too stubborn to change, so your butt will thank you later."

When the doors open, Luka is immediately washed with a cocktail of smells he didn't think could- nor should- ever go together. First and foremost is the thick smell of plastic and rubber, followed by the chemical odor of cleaning sprays, and the sizzling smell of burning cheese. Air conditioning blasts them from above as the three young adults enter the bowling alley, the doors sliding shut behind their backs. The sounds hit next - a cacophonous mix of rubber soles squeaking on polished floors, heavy objects falling and rolling, and the clatter of pins falling into the trap at the far end of the establishment.

It was loud, smelled strange, and the carpet looked lifted straight out of an arcade.

Luka was torn between anxiety, and a strange sort of excitement he hadn't felt in a long, long time. This was something new, something unfamiliar- he had hours to enjoy himself, and spend time not worrying about stresses of life. Harriet had a sitter, paid in advance with an alarm for when he would return, and he was out with- friends? Had him accepting this invitation solidified their friendship at this point? ...the thought made a happy butterfly flutter in his stomach.

This would be a great evening, he could feel it.

"Earth to Luka." MJ's amused tone causes Luka to jump. "Something on your mind? You're smiling."

"Oh- uh- nothing," Luka says, scratching behind his head sheepishly. "Just- thanks. For inviting me. I think I really did need this a lot."

"YEAH you do!" Clover thumps him on the back with one hand. "Come on! You have to give your shoes to the clerk so they can give you your bowling shoes."

"Ah, what? I have to take off my shoes on this carpet?" Luka complains, lifting a foot with distaste. "I feel like I'm stepping on twenty-year-old candy."

"It's part of the charm!" Clover sings, already removing one of her sneakers. "It's either this, or slip all over the place on the actual alley floor. You're getting the full bowling experience whether you like it or not, coffee boy."

"Ex-CUSE me!" Luka says with a dramatic gasp, hopping on one foot as he works to remove his own shoes. "I think you will find I'm a coffee man, thank you."

"Coffee twink," Clover counters.

"No, that's MJ."

"HEY! I will call lion's share of the tips for that one," MJ shakes a sneaker at them both in a mock scolding gesture.

"YOU'RE BOTH COFFEE TWINKS," Clover declares to the entire establishment as she fights off her last sneaker, racing for the counter before the others can catch up. "HURRY UP, COFFEE TWINKS, WE NEED TO PICK OUT BOWLING BALLS."

"I have dibs on the galaxy patterned one!" MJ yells after Clover.

Clover gives MJ an evil grin as she takes her bowling shoes and pays the rental fee, tying them before sauntering over to the racks of bowling balls. Her hand hovers over the selection, giving a teasing pause over the bowling ball made with swirled star plastic.

"Don't you dare," MJ hisses from the counter, pointing an accusing finger at Clover as he hands over the money for both his and Luka's rental shoes.

"It's either the tips share, or the bowling ball! You decide!" Clover yells back, drumming her fingers on the coveted starry bowling ball.

"Fiiiiine," MJ says with a dramatic tone, though his smile gives away his mirth. "You know I wasn't going to take the tips anyway, Clo."

"I know~" she says, giggling while she moves on to a different rack of bowling balls. "And you know I wouldn't do that to your poor weak arms, either, Moonie."

Luka finishes tying his rental shoes, thanking MJ before he makes his way down the small stairway to the alleys. It's very bright in this section of the building, with cushioned couches surrounding tables and standing consoles. Metal railings and a chute of some kind were positioned at each alleyway, some with bowling balls sitting idle atop the metal racks.

"So, what now?" Luka asks, the excitement of wading into unknown waters welling in his chest again.

"Pick a bowling ball!" Clover says, gesturing to the racks of heavy plastic spheres. "You'll want a heavy one, but not too heavy for you to lift and throw."

"Go easy on us, Clover." MJ shakes his head as he picks up his favorite starry ball. "Ms. Gun Show and her fourteen-pound bowling ball."

The redhead leans over and scoops up a swirled green bowling ball, hefting it on one arm and pumping it like a weight.

"You might get some guns yourself if you helped me landscape and move sod around my garden, Coffee Twink #1," she says, flexing a bicep.

"I refuse to acknowledge that nickname."

"Sorry, it's our team name now," Clover laughs, "the Coffee Twinks!"

"Hey, I thought our team name was the Comets?!"

"That was before Luka joined the team - now it's a 2-to-1 twink majority, I don't make the rules."

Luka just has his face in his hands, laughing through the whole exchange as he leans on the metal racks.

"You're just as bad as Harriet!" Luka laughs, pushing his hair back out of his eyes with one hand. "I don't even know where she learned that word - Cookie's daughter, probably?"

"Definitely," MJ says with a thousand yard stare, earning more laughter from Luka. "Go pick a bowling ball, I'll get the console up and running for our game."

Wiping tears from his eyes, chuckling under his breath, Luka turns to the racks and peruses the selection. The bowling balls come in all colors - most are black or dark brown, but there's a rather delightful mix of brighter hues like pink, blue and yellow. Some are marbled, some have glitter in the plastic, and a few very beat-up bowling balls have graphics of cartoon characters that were popular in the 90s. Well-loved by the children who patronize this establishment, he was sure. Harriet would love the Scooby-Doo ball - oh no wait. The one themed after a Pokeball, for sure was her poison of choice. And clearly the pick of the litter for many other children, as it was covered in scratches and dents from decades of use.

Ah- there was one themed after a jack-o-lantern! How fitting. He loops his fingers into the grip holes of the bowling ball, and heaves it off of the rack- only to almost crush his toes as the weight yanks his arms to the floor.

That was- heavier than expected!

"Oooooh, nice pick," Clover says, spinning her own bowling ball in her hands. "You sure you can carry it, though? That's a 10-pounder."

"I'll be fine-" Luka says, grunting as he lifts it back up with both hands this time. "Just- caught me off guard, is all."

"Alright, game's all set," MJ announces from the console.

Above their heads, a large tube television flashes blue before displaying a score board.

A loud k-chunk k-chunk k-chunk of machinery draws Luka's eye toward the other end of the alley. Metal rigging and machinery descend from the covered roof of the pin trap. Resembling a large soda crate, the rig drops an array of ten white bowling pins, before unclamping and ascending back into the darkness of whatever creation of god resided in that ceiling.

"You're up first, Clo," MJ says, waving a hand to indicate she should move forward.

"Watch and learn," Clover throws Luka a smile, the competitive taunt dampened by her genuinely helpful tone. "You want to throw the ball so it rolls like this-"

Stepping forward onto the squeaky, smooth polished wooden platform, Clover lifts her bowling ball to her chest. With a quick inhale, she lopes forward two steps, swinging her arm back with the bowling ball, before reeling it forward on the last stride and underhand throwing it into the aisle. The heavy green bowling ball lands with a tHDD before skidding its way down the oiled track, rolling in a long, smooth line. The swirled green sphere smacks into the bowling pins with a loud tHWAKK!!, sending all but one of the pins flying into the darkness beyond. The ball disappears into the hole, and Clover puts her hands on her hips with a huff.

"Damn, almost got a strike." Clover snaps her fingers, shrugging. The green bowling ball clatters back up the chute. She grips her fingers into the trio of holes again, and goes for another throw.

The bowling ball rolls down the course, straight as an arrow for the last pin. The pin spins off the wooden platform into the darkness, earning a whoop from Clover.

"Nice, got a spare!" Clover declares, throwing her arms up in triumph. She sashays her way back to the couches. "Who's up next?"

"I'm up," MJ says, standing from the console. Looping his fingers into his own starry bowling ball, MJ rolls his shoulders and steps up onto the oiled wooden planks. "I'm going to get the first strike of the day, just wait."

"Sure you will," Clover snickers as MJ winds up.

When he releases the ball, it rolls at very high speed- before curving halfway down the track, the topspin he put on the ball causing it veer off course and land in the gutter.

Face flushed, MJ coughs into his hand, suddenly very invested in fixing his shirt as Clover grins. The galaxy ball returns to the trough, and MJ pointedly picks it up again, winding up for his second throw. The bowling ball rocks down the course, and knocks over about six pins, leaving a corner of the triangle still standing.

"Woo!" Clover cheers, clapping as MJ returns to the seating. She reaches over and nudges Luka on the shoulder. "You're up, Luke! Show us whatchu got!"

Heart in his throat, Luka stands from his seat and steps up.

The bowling ball grins up at him, daring him to chicken out. It was heavy in his hand. Still, he walked up onto the polished floor, feeling the rubber on the bottom of his shoes as it grips the oiled surface.

Fighting the weight of the heavy bowling ball, Luka takes a step forward, swinging his arm back before bringing it back around like a pendulum. The ball hits the track with a heavy thDD as it’s released, sent rolling off down the track. Around the halfway point, it spins off course and lands in the gutter with a clunk.

“Aww,” Clover says, leaning over the chair cushion. “And you had such good posture, too.”

“It’s ok,” MJ speaks up, seeing Luka’s visible embarrassment. “It’s your first time bowling! Nothing to be ashamed of. You have another shot before we rotate players.”

Disappointed, Luka rubs at his arm. Well, that was a less than encouraging performance. But he noticed the angle of the spin on the ball. Maybe he could fix that.

The ball clatters up the chute back into the return trough. Luka picks it up with a huff of breath, holding it to his chest as he does mental calculations. If he turned his wrist at just the right point...

Stepping forward, Luka swings back and releases the ball, putting a top spin on the ball at the last possible moment-

The jack-o-lantern face rockets down the alley, the path straight until the very last second. It curves to hit the front pin from the side, knocking every single pin into the abyss beyond.

"OHHHHH!" Clover and MJ exclaim, clapping with enthusiasm as Luka looks stunned.

"You got a strike!" Clover says, applauding with a big grin. "You were totally pulling our legs about being a newbie to this, huh??"

"I think I just got lucky," Luka tries to play it off, feeling an uncommon shyness as he smiles.

Clover shakes her head, not having it.

"Luck nothing! That was pure talent, and you got a strike, dude!"

"Technically that was a spare, but still a strike in my book," MJ says as he rotates the turn order on the console, giving Luka a smile and a thumbs up.

"Oh let him have it, Moon Moon," Clover laughs as MJ throws her a pout. "Our new boy's got game!"

Luka hunches his shoulders, an awkward smile curling across his cheeks as he walks back over to the couches. Clover jumps to attention and makes her way to the track, picking up her green bowling ball for another round as he sits down.

This was... much more fun than he had expected it to be. The background noise of the bowling alley was surprisingly pleasant. He found he could get used to the dull odor of plastic and cleaner- and honestly, that hot cheese smell from what must be the pizzeria was tempting his stomach. But best of all was the camaraderie he could feel sparking between him, Clover, and MJ. Were they officially friends now? Or had they been already, and he was just- in denial? If Luka was entirely honest with himself, probably the latter. MJ and Clover had been nothing but kind and understanding, to him. His sporadic hours and excuses had done nothing to faze them with regards to their treatment of him at work. They still offered him drinks and invited him on this outing, offering even to pay for his expenses, didn't they?

"Hey Luka!" A call from MJ breaks him out of the small reverie. "You're up, again."

"And after this round, we can hit the arcade! I bet I can out-dance you on DDR, Coffee Twinks," Clover smirks.

"No betting. I know you can."

Maybe- maybe he had nothing to worry about.

---

The evening is going fantastic.

The first bowling game had been a pretty close match between Luka and Clover. Clover had the arm strength to pull off some mean and fast throws, but Luka had developed a system. Figuring out how to spin the bowling ball just the right amount had made up for his noodle arms and less weighty bowling ball. It wasn't long before he figured out how to roll a pretty straight record of spares and strikes, with the occasional 7-10 split. After bowling around, they went into the arcade section, with an entire paper roll of quarters to blow on games. A vicious Ms. Pacman multiplayer match had led to MJ smoking all three of them, and as predicted, Clover out-danced both of the boys on the DDR and Stepmania machines. Luka had to collapse over a nearby chair with exhaustion after his matches. He'd finished off the arcade run with a very lucky pull from a claw machine, winning a black cat plush with big yellow eyes that he was definitely going to enjoy giving to Harriet.

The three of them sat around their table at the bowling console again, laughing over a hot cheese and pepperoni pizza.

"No way, you didn't!" Luka gasps, wheezing for air.

"I did! I punched his goddamn lights out!" Clover laughs, slapping one knee. "The guy was being a huge creep, so I introduced him to my fist."

"I hope you didn't get in trouble with the cops or something for that." Luka tilts his head, giving her an impressed and worried look.

"Can't get in trouble if nobody reports it," MJ chimes in, smirking past his soda cup. "He complained to me, but I had the security tapes AND plausible deniability because I wasn't on the floor. Corporate took our side on this."

"Nobody from the city wants to drive all the way out to podunk Subcon for a random dudebro's complaint." Clover sits back on her cushioned seat, chomping into her pizza happily. "Mmmmm- delicious melty cheese."

Luka chomps into his own pizza, exhaling and blowing on it as it nearly burns his mouth.

"Easy, tiger!" MJ smirks around his own mouthful of pizza.

"I know, it's just so good," Luka says, laughing into his hand as he sips some of his cola. "But in like- the way you know it's not that great? Does that make sense?"

"Night in the Woods taught me the Pizza Scale, and I stick by that," Clover says, crunching through her crust to grab up another slice, washing down the bread with some soda. When she reaches for another piece of the pie, she pauses, and lets out a huff. "Oh, that sucks. I guess they didn't clean the bowling balls that well this time. Gross."

"Hm?" Luka says through a mouthful of pizza.

"Your fingers are all oil-stained from the finger holes on the bowling ball, Luka. Big Al needs to wash the bowling balls properly."

Confused, the law student shifts his attention down.

The ends of his fingertips are discolored with ebony purple.

Luka can feel as his brain zeroes in on the first sign of his impending transformation, and begins to shift into emergency mode as it relays the steps he must take in order to avoid further exposure. He'd gone over this information with himself many times over the past five years. It was ingrained in his mind, what he had to do, the information practically screaming at him. But he can't hear it. His ears are filled with buzzing as reality breaks into the facade he'd slowly built up over the course of hours.

No-

No no no-

His pizza slice drops to the paper plate as he fumbles with his bag, pulling out the cell phone from the liner pocket. Shaking fingers tap the screen with frantic speed, trying to turn the damn thing on-

9:17?

They'd been here nearly four hours?!

He'd spent the morning out with Harriet, doing their grocery shopping and walking around the town's outdoor mall as much needed father-daughter time. Eight hours of being in disguise had long since passed.

His time limit was up.

This couldn't be happening. Yet the numbers stare back at him from the glare of his cell phone screen. They even have the nerve to tick over to 9:18 right before his eyes.

This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening! It wasn't fair!

"Luka, you ok? You're turning pale..."

Clover's question just barely manages to pierce the haze, causing Luka to jolt in his seat. Posture stiff and breath shallow, he lifts his head to meet Clover's questioning eyes. She's staring at him with building concern, her smile becoming a frown of worry.

The tension is palpable in the air as Luka struggles to find words. Finally, he manages to say something.

"It's- it's a quarter past nine-"

"Oh shoot-" Clover says, sitting up abruptly as she grabs her own phone.

MJ checks his watch, wincing. "Oof. Sorry, Luka. I guess we lost track of time passing. I'll apologize to Cookie for the overtime, we can finish this round and go-"

"Don't feel good- going to the bathroom-" Luka wheezes, scrambling to his feet as he scoops all of his belongings into his bag and races past MJ's seat.

"Luka!" Clover yells after him, her heightened concern audible in her voice. "Ok, we'll- we'll start cleaning up! Let us know if you need-!"

Her words are cut off by the slam of the bathroom door. Luka's bowling shoes slip over the slick tile floor, his hands gripping onto the cold porcelain of the bathroom sink to steady himself. He brings his shaking hands up to view in the mirror. The blackening purple skin was spreading up his finger joints, reaching his palms.

No- not now! Why now?

Luka clenches his fists and his jaw, focusing every ounce of his will on making the purple go away. He can almost feel a vein pop on his forehead- if he still had veins, anymore- as he strains to make his unwilling body follow his desires. The purple starts to recede at a caterpillar crawl... but it slows. And the harder he tries, the more he can feel his arms struggle to hold their shape - becoming less solid.

"No- no!" he whimpers, clenching his hands into the sink again. The action splatters small droplets of purple sludge against the porcelain, which vanish moments later as the purple staining once more consumes his fingers - and now his palms. "Stop it! Just- let me be human! Please!"

He lifts his head to the mirror. Despair fills his gut as he sees amber eyes staring back at him in the reflection, and the beginnings of an inner glow fighting to come out from the back of his throat.

Luka lets out a wordless sound of sorrow, lifting an arm to pound one fist against the mirror in vain. The reflection is unfazed in its destitution, tears beginning to gather at the edges of its eyes and mouth set into a sob of clenched teeth. The reflection's canine's lengthen several inches as the eyes stare back, accusingly. The purple was starting to spread up its neck, just poking out the collar of the shirt.

"No..."

This wasn't him. But it had been, years ago. This was SUPPOSED to be him.

He curls his fist, watching as the fingers start losing their shape. Fusing together, becoming single digits and his thumbs vanish back into the purple sludge of the limb.

"I was finally-..." Luka whimpers, "...I finally felt human again."

-bang bang bang-

The sound of a fist knocking on the bathroom door causes Luka to yelp and jump back from the mirror.

"Luka? You ok in there?"

It was MJ.

Peck!

Grabbing his bag, Luka books it into the furthest stall of the bathroom. He slams the metal door behind him, fumbling to lock it with his swelling mitten fingers. Alarm shot through his gut as his shirt felt tight around his torso. Already?? This was faster than usual! Had he really pushed it that much?

"Hey man, are you sick? Clover and I are really concerned. Do you need any help in there?"

"NO! NO I'M GOOD!" Luka yells from the bathroom stall, clapping a two-fingered hand over his mouth as he hears the slight reverb echo to his own voice. Dammit! "I'M JUST- I'LL BE FINE!"

He was not fine, he would most certainly not be fine!

"Luka, you sound croaky." It was Clover this time, probably a short distance behind MJ. "Dude, are you sure? MJ, maybe you should go in and check on him-"

"NO!"

No, the reverb was stronger!

"Luka, I'm coming in."

"MJ it's fine!"

Luka could hear the seams of his shirt starting to stretch and strain. The seconds were ticking by as strings started to pop at the neck.

Shit, shit!

Luka turned left and right, the stall cramped and uncomfortable as the ruff of fur around his neck thickens and threatens to burst his shirt open. He needed a way out!

Aha! A small window, to the outside! Wow, that was probably the worst location for a window. And it was so small-

The door creaked as MJ started to turn the handle.

NO TIME!

Luka makes a dive for the window. His fingers catch on the sill, and he hauls his body up onto the tiny ledge, his head pushing up the glass and emerging out into the open air. Squeezing through the narrow space, he struggles to pull his feet through, kicking off the bowling shoes and hearing them clatter to the tiles below.

The door comes unlatched, and MJ enters the bathroom, looking around with a frown.

Luka was gone. And for some reason, his bowling shoes were abandoned on the questionably cleaned bathroom floor.

Just outside the window, tucked next to the wall of the alleyway outside the bowling alley, Luka is panting with adrenaline. He can feel his chest expand further with each breath, the fur mane around his neck already splitting apart his shirt. His fingers had fully lost their human shape by now, coalescing back into the familiar mitts he hated so much. A reminder that, no, he wasn't human. No matter what those people in the bowling alley thought of him, and what he thought of them in return... no matter how much he wanted to be human, again.

"Luka?"

His entire torso now fully drenched in purple, Luka hangs his head, listening as he fights to strip off the shirt suffocating him.

Footsteps, in the bathroom.

"...Luka? What the-... Clover, he's not here?"

"What?? But he- went into the bathroom! He was just-!"

"His shoes are here..."

"His shoes??"

Luka forces himself to stand, wobbling a bit further away from the window as he focuses all of his efforts on keeping his legs. He can't lose his ability to walk, not in the middle of town!

God dammit... god dammit! Why couldn't he just enjoy his night? Now he was wandering alleyways, half transformed, and MJ and Clover were no doubt worried to hell and back. What could he even say? 'Sorry, had to take a break to wolf out in the bathroom'?

-brrring brrring-

The buzz of the phone in his pants pocket- which was getting tight against his waist, he noticed. Luka quickly extracts the phone before it can be damaged by the fabric.

MJ's caller ID stares back at him from the screen.

The decision to trust these two with his information was biting him in his rapidly purpling behind. He'd been so careful not to slip up, and the ONE TIME he makes a mistake... He had another decision to make. He could not respond, and just be a complete asshole, but he could protect his secret a little safer, for just a little bit longer. Or he could pick up, and... he didn't know. Bullshit something? Would they even believe whatever malarkey he could cook up in seven seconds for bailing out of a bowling alley restroom? God, he was terrible at improvised excuses! He was a lawyer, not an actor! But if he answered the phone call, maybe- maybe he could hold on to that feeling again. The warmth of companionship of peers his age, that he hadn't felt since law school. Since... Vanessa. But he couldn't think about her right now. What mattered was his safety- his daughter's safety.

Peck. He didn't even think about that part. Could he really rip Harriet out of a somewhat stable home life, again? She was just starting to get along with Cookie's daughter, and he didn't want to take that precious first friendship from her.

Luka was only pulled out of the downward spiral by the vibration of the phone, which he only now realized had registered a missed call, and was now on the second call. It was still MJ, the picture of him in his Horizon employee cap still smiling from the bright phone screen.

He had to do something. He could feel his legs protest the form they was struggling to hold.

Survival instinct set in. First, he had to get away from the scene.

Stumbling to his malforming feet, Luka jogs away from the alley, ducking away from the Pins & Cushions and avoiding the bright neon sign on the side of the building.

As he walks, a headache hits, and Luka just knows his face was losing more of his familiar features. Didn't need a mirror to know that he was definitely the shade of a bruised plum, and that his eyes were glowing like gold beacons. The sharp teeth at the edges of his mouth were digging into his bottom lip as he dodges and weaves to avoid line of sight from storefront apartment windows.

The woods were so close by, just a few more blocks.

Faster. He had to run faster. But his legs- were fighting him! Already he could feel his steps become lighter, movement more fluid. It was a struggle to keep a walking stride, rather than just- leap into the air. No way was he going to fly a block from pecking main street.

His phone continues to vibrate, threatening the call to drop.

Right when he reaches the sidewalk, Luka pants for breath, collapsing beside the pole for a street lamp while avoiding the amber spotlight. Taking one last rueful look at his phone, he sighs, and presses the answer button with a doughy purple finger.

"Luka?" MJ's voice patches through. The reception isn't great, but it's sufficient. Maybe that was a lucky break, considering what his voice was going to sound like in a second.

"Hey," Luka answers. Yep. He sounded like a toad that swallowed a brass tube. "Sorry- about that."

"Dude, are you ok?? Where did you go?" MJ spoke so quickly it almost interrupted Luka, concern clear and evident in his voice. "You ran or something and- you left your shoes at the counter, and the cat plush for your daughter. Clover got them for you-"

"It's ok," Luka says, wincing. "I can pick them up tomorrow. I- don't feel well, and I have to go get Harriet."

"Luka, we could have driven you home for that," MJ responds, a hint of hurt and confusion. "You know you can tell us if you're uncomfortable, and want to leave, right?"

"No- this- I was having fun," Luka responds, cupping a hand over his mouth to try to muffle the echo. He had to wrap this up. His voice was getting less natural by the second. He really hoped the poor reception would mask it. "Look- I'm sorry MJ. But I really had to go."

"You're not getting kidnapped or something are you?" Clover's distant voice suddenly patches through in the phone. MJ must have his phone on speaker. "Because if you are, I'll hunt them down! Just yell where the car is taking you!"

"I'm not- look, I'm sorry, but I just had to go, ok?" Luka says. "Harriet needs me."

"I thought you were feeling sick?" Clover says, her worried tone now tinted with... suspicion. "You ran to the bathroom, and we were all worried about you, dude." Her voice becomes just a bit distant, as she turns to speak to MJ, but the phone picks it up. “Actually, did we ever hear anything from Cookie...?”

"No- I am-" Luka can feel his lies crumbling, nearly becoming true as he experiences a sensation similar to his stomach heaving from the anxiety. "Thanks for the wonderful evening, I'll pick up my stuff later- bye!"

"Wait-!!"

-click-

MJ's protest is cut off, and Luka set the phone down on the grass, putting his head in the other hand. That was terrible. But he couldn't back out on it now. He would just have to deal with the consequences of that phone call tomorrow.

Not like having shoes or not bothered him, anyway.

Exhausted and resigned, Luka slides away from the lamp post into the chaparral, and begins rapidly pulling his shirt over his head. No way was he going to lose another shirt, not after the last one. This was his last nice shirt, and he intended to keep it as long as possible!

A quiet gasp jolts him out of his frantic folding.

Luka whips around, shirtless, half de-pantsed, and his body a full shade of deep shadow purple. His golden eyes glow in the reflected street light as he freezes on the spot, making eye contact with another human being across the road. It was the stocky mustachioed man from the coffee shop- the regular who came by and sketched quietly in a corner. Pinstriped suit- which seemed to be the only outfit anyone ever saw him wore- an apron, and grey khaki pants. The thick glasses would make it difficult to tell where he was looking, if the man wasn't standing with his square jaw hanging down at his chest, head angled directly toward Luka. Everyone dismissed him as a paranoiac, a hermit who stopped by for his morning caffeine fix and quiet atmosphere to indulge in his imagination. Rumors flew that he used to work for some sort of tabloid magazine, and was fired- or promoted?- for how crazy his stories were.

Whatever the reason, this man was now standing, groceries dropped to the pavement, and staring at Luka. A very half-naked, absolutely not human-looking Luka.

Face suddenly burning hot with embarrassment and fear, Luka grabs his belt loops and bolts into the trees.

The movement causes the man to only gape more, making a wordless noise of astonishment before the forest breaks their line of sight and Luka retreats into the safety of the woods. Luka just barely remembers to grab his shirt and belt from the bushes. Vanishing entirely from sight, stumbling over debris as his transformation takes full hold of his body, Luka wheezes as his heart beats in his chest. After all that, he was seen! Peck! Did he just ruin everything because he wasn’t paying attention? But- but it was just the local hermit, the resident conspiracy nut. That wouldn’t be so bad, right? This wasn’t as catastrophic as being spotted by a teen with a cell phone open. Surely, this was the safest possible person in town to accidentally spot him mid-transformation. Repercussions would be minimal.

Thank god the man didn't have a camera.

#Coffee Shop Au #AHIT #A Hat In Time #doodledrawsthings #Snatcher #Hat Kid #Moonjumper #Clover #noticed a couple mistakes and it's too late to fix em wHOOPS #OH WELL

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pressedinthepages · 4 years ago

Text

Family Business

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Eskel/Jaskier

Rating: T

Masterlist

a/n: Another day, another collab with Maragret @sometimesiwrite cause we just cannot stop. And this one will have cHaPtErS!!!!!!

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Modern Coffee Shop AU. Eskel and his brothers run a coffee shop. Jaskier pops in one morning. Neither can anticipate what is to come.

The bell above the door of Happy Goat Coffee and Snacks tinkled quaintly as Eskel returned from the corner store, carton of almond milk in-hand. He slipped the receipt into the till and opened the milk fridge, taking stock to see if there was anything else that couldn’t wait for Wednesday’s delivery. All seemed to be in order—Barista Blend soy and oat milks, a few bags of regular milk. He didn’t like carrying almond (bad for bees), but it was the only thing some customers could drink so… here it was.

He turned to make himself another coffee, taking stock of their baked goods: chocolate zucchini muffins, banana bread, blueberry muffins (a few missing, Geralt’s been here…), and an assortment of granola-based snacks. The overall business plan was plant-based and/or sustainably sourced in the hopes of filling a void left by the larger chains that were the only other options in the neighbourhood. It wasn’t a bad plan, and with the increasing number of conscious-consumer parents, they were establishing a strong and loyal customer base.

Lambert carried a tray of sourdough paninis around the counter and began transferring them into the display case, arranging them as neatly as his energetic hands would allow. It had been hell working with him for the first little bit. Lambert took after their sainted mother only in being a morning person. His general pissy attitude skipped a generation and came directly from their grandmother. But the prickly bastard knew what he was talking about, and after some… heated negotiations, they managed to agree on finding a local butcher who could provide pork belly which Lambert would turn into proper bacon in the back. They barely had the space, but he somehow made it work, and it sold very well as an add-on. I mean, he wasn’t wrong. It did taste better.

Of course, this didn’t stop the young brother’s grumbling. He simply did it while chewing. “Lambert, could you please, please, stop eating the bacon?”

“I’m sorry, I must be doing this wrong. Do I look like I give a fuck???”

“No, you don’t. That’s why I’m doing it for you. Just...” he sighed “don’t eat us into bankruptcy.”

“What, so Geralt can drink all the fuckin organic ass lemonade he wants but I can’t have a piece of gods-be-damned bacon???”

“Geralt drinks the—oh my God you guys are killing me—look, I will talk to Geralt about the lemonade, you can have some, some bacon, and I’m going to try my hardest not to put my head through the fucking wall. Capiche?”

Lambert watched over Eskel’s shoulder as Geralt chugged the remainder of the lemonade from his cup through narrowed eyes in his direction.

“Fine.” Lambert growled, turning back to the kitchen. “You’ve got a fucking customer, by the way, boss.”

“Don’t call—oh never mind. Hello, sorry, welcome to the Exasperated Goat. I’ve changed the name.”

“I love it,” the young man on the other side of the counter crooned, cocking his hip with a smile. “Think it’ll really capture the true essence of the neighbourhood.” Eskel was struck dumb immediately, his words falling flat on his tongue. He was trapped in a pair of dazzling blue eyes and the brightest, most open face he’d seen in a—well, a depressingly long time, if he was honest. The young man was eccentrically stylish with bright splashy colours and patterns that had no business going together as well as they did.

Eskel wasn’t the only one transfixed. His vivacious new customer was too busy marvelling at something inexplicable behind the proprietor’s hazel-green eyes and his… aura? Was that even a thing? How long have I been standing here? Oh God, am I staring? Shit.

Geralt swaggered behind the counter and bumped into Eskel's shoulder pointedly.

“What can I get you?” He fumbled, working hard to regain his senses.

The young man recovered more smoothly, “Cappuccino, dry please. And a chocolate zucchini muffin. Please,” he added with a cheeky grin, holding out a twenty.

Eskel took the money and their fingers brushed, just the tiniest bit—was that a linger?—but he felt the sparks fly under his skin nonetheless, and as he got to work steaming milk, he desperately tried to remember how small talk worked. The young man beat him to it.

“How’s the morning so far?”

Eskel sighed, glancing up at him. “Not...terrible,” he said, peering over his shoulder to find Lambert now munching on a mini quiche. “Lambert keeps eating the merchandise, but I suppose it could be worse.”

Eskel was caught up in the man’s smile again until the rapidly rising temperature of the milk that brought him back to himself. He tapped the pitcher to settle the foam and wiped the steam wand, “How’s your day been...?”

“Can’t complain,” the man shrugged, taking a sizeable bite out of the side of his muffin—an act that Lambert would have seen as a criminal offense. Eskel disguised an amused grimace. “Had a gig last night, decent turnout. One or two people I didn’t know actually showed up on purpose.” Eskel knocked a portafilter empty, cleaning it with a well-practiced twist of the wrist. The man’s eyes drifted to the espresso-stained microfibre cloth that was currently being handled so expertly and found his mind wandering, jarred back to reality as the grinder kicked on. He jumped a little.

“Ah, you’re a musician, then?” Eskel asked over the noise.

He nodded, swallowing thickly as he took in the breadth of Eskel’s shoulders. “I like telling stories,” he called back.

“Ah, you write your own stuff, then.” Eskel knocked the edge of the portafilter against the palm of his hand to settle the espresso and Jaskier was lost again, watching large, graceful hands working with strength and precision, all in the name of a decent cup of coffee. Eskel looked at his mesmerized conversation companion, “Or do you prefer to cover?”

“Hm? Oh, well, a bit of both. I like to cover because it gives people a sense of familiarity, like they can trust you with their evening. It sets the tone. Then I do my own stuff once I’ve got them on my side.”

Eskel cut the shot as the rich caramel colour of the dark espresso began to run lighter, and he gave it a sniff, ensuring the extraction was good before pouring in a little milk, and dolling out large quantities of foam. He passed the drink to the young man. “Extra dry.”

“Ah, my hero,” the young man wrapped his hands around the cup and brought it to his lips. “Mmm, delicious as always.”

“Always?” Eskel asked, tearing his eyes away from the young musician’s long, slender fingers. “Y-you’ve been in here? I don’t—I’d’ve thought I’d remember you.”

“Mhm, I usually pop in in the afternoons though, it’s typically Geralt over there who’s working.” He waggled his fingers over Eskel’s shoulder and he heard Geralt grunt in acknowledgment.

“Ah, yes. He takes over from me so I can go home and sleep. Well, rather forces me to. It’s hard to remember there’s a home when you spend most of your time at your own business. You hear people talk about self-care? Mine’s Geralt.”

And the young man, who Eskel thought was incapable of being any more charming, laughed so brightly and earnestly that Eskel could’t stop the grin that spread to his own face—not that he’d’ve wanted to.

"I suppose that's what partners are for, isn't it?" he said flippantly, adding a dash of nutmeg to the foam in his cup and stirring in a little honey.

"Pardon?"

"To remind you there's something other than work, you know, house and family and—"

"Oh, uh, no—business partner. Geralt's just a—well not just. He's my brother."

"Ah! I'm so sorry, I just assumed... You know, urban cafe, tasteful decore, and then you mentioned he’s your self-care. Most people aren't that close with their siblings is all."

Eskel nodded, "Our other brother's in charge of the kitchen. It's... a long story, but, here we are!"

Eskel watched as the young man took a deep breath through his nose, seemingly steeling himself. He was then met with those striking eyes again as a napkin was slid across the counter, just barely brushing his fingertips. “In that case...would you like to get dinner sometime?”

"I—what?" Eskel shook his head, not quite believing what he was hearing.

The young man smiled again,"It's alright. I'm just giving you a napkin with my number on it. You can use it to communicate with me. You know, texting? Call me? Maybe eat some food?"

"But I—I don't understand, why?"

The young man playfully rolled his eyes, "If you're not interested, you can just say so."

“No! No, I absolutely am, I’m ju-“ Eskel stammered, trying desperately to keep from sticking his foot in his mouth and driving the young man away,“I’m just not sure why you are.”

The young man just laughed brightly, his blue eyes flashing beneath dark lashes, "Because you're handsome, hard-working, and the way we've connected just now gives me a hunch. Besides, how long has it been since you had a chance to get away and go to dinner with someone?"

Eskel eyed his customer, thought for a moment, and tapped the napkin before picking it up. "Walk first, then dinner. I hate starting dates like a third-degree."

The young man set down his coffee and held out his hand, beckoning to Eskel over the counter. As he came around, he offered his hand in return, and was shocked by the—could he call it intimacy?—of the musician’s hand gently closing around his. It may as well have been an embrace. “I-“ and of course his voice cracked. Eskel cleared his throat with a chuckle, finding those beautiful baby blues once more. “I’m Eskel.”

"Julian. Stage name is Jaskier. You can call me either, it doesn't really matter."

Eskel smiled warmly, "It's nice to meet you, Julian."

"Likewise, Eskel. I, uh, I should get going. But. Text me, we'll make plans."

Eskel watched as Julian left, his stride long and confident. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, staring into empty space, but at some point Geralt once again appeared to nudge against his shoulder. “Better save that napkin, brother.”

Eskel nodded at the flimsy paper in his hand, looking at the digits like they were an ancient cipher that needed decoding. "Better yet..." Geralt said, surreptitiously grabbing Eskel's phone from off the counter, unlocking it, and texting, Hope you have a good day.

"Here you go," Geralt said, handing the phone back to Eskel before pouring himself a drip.

Eskel’s stomach simultaneously lept into his throat and fell onto the floor. “Geralt,” he breathed, watching the *read* message pop up, “well now what? By the way,” Eskel suddenly turned, wagging his finger at the end of Geralt’s nose, “quit drinking all of the merchandise!”

“First off, now he can actually text you back instead of waiting to hear from you all day, which is exactly what would happen if left to your own devices. Secondly... Lambert said he wouldn’t tell you.”

Eskel shook his head, mouth agape, “Unbelievable.”

Eskel’s fingers itched as he continued about his morning business, his phone silent in his pocket. He had nearly given it up as a lost cause when it finally chimed, and then he almost sent the phone flying across the store in his haste.

So sorry for the late reply, Eskel. I was on the metro and then I had to run off downtown and then, alas, my phone died. I should really get one of those portable battery things. Ah well. Thank you for the well wishes!! It really brightened my day once I finally got them 😍😍😍

Eskel exhaled deeply. Okay, this was okay, this was good. He typed and deleted. Retyped. Deleted. Geralt reappeared over his shoulder, glancing at the text no worries, wanted to make sure you had my number. Geralt shook his head and took a sip of coffee before grabbing Eskel’s phone and typing, no worries, glad you got it sorted. Hope the metro wasn’t too much of a disaster. Geralt handed Eskel his phone to peruse the message.

“When did you get good at texting?” Eskel murmured as he pressed ‘send.’ Geralt merely shrugged as he ambled away, clearly in search of something to snack on as he finished inventory and ordering. Eskel called over his shoulder, “Would you please make more lemonade since you drank it all?!?!”

As Geralt’s hum in the affirmative hit his ears so did the chime of his phone.

Not bad at all! Only one shouty person, and he didn't even hurl obscenities after me :D Although a mother with a very large stroller gave me a rather impressive side-eye as I sat down with my guitar tucked between my feet and mumbled something about manspreading. Some days it's the little things that get you through 🙃

Eskel replied, That sounds about right for 2 in the afternoon. Too bad you didn't see the Singing Man, he'll really give your day a kick you didn't know it needed.

You know what would give my day a good kick? A lovely walk with a lovely man ;)

And Eskel blushed. Full on blushed. Lambert snorted from where he hovered in the doorway.

“Go on, lover boy,” Lambert smirked, taking a bite out of another goddam slice of bacon. “We’ve got it covered.”

He rubbed his face. It was hard to think straight. He'd been up since 4:30, and part of him just wanted to go home and sleep, but it was also the first sunny day they'd seen in what felt like over a month, and the idea of a nice walk with some light conversation wasn't unappealing in the least. He frowned at Lambert, "How do you even know it's him that texted?"

"Because you just turned three shades of pink and stared at your phone like it's a piece of alien technology."

Eskel grumbled and turned back to his phone. Would be nice to get some company and fresh air. What part of town are you in? Meet in the middle?

Meanwhile, Julian was on the metro. Again. His leg bounced where he was sitting, reading the same paragraph of some random book over and over again. He knew it was a long shot coming all the way back to the coffee shop—Eskel might be done for the day and gone home or out doing shopping or—but it could be worth it. He lept off at his stop and bounded up the stairs, and his phone dinged with a delayed notification. He smiled at his phone and stowed it away, walking as fast as he possibly could until he saw the familiar sign of the coffee shop. Julian slowed down so that he didn’t cross the line from ‘windswept’ into ‘desperate’ and peered into the little window. He spotted Eskel immediately, his back to the door and speaking with another man behind the counter, presumably Lambert. Julian smiled and pushed open the door.

"Whoa-ho-ho, Pretty Boy at twelve o'clock."

Eskel looked up from Jaskier's Spotify account and quickly closed his phone. "I suggested halfway, I hope you didn't come all the way across town."

Now it was Julian’s turn to stammer a bit, his tongue feeling too large for his mouth as his eyes swept across Eskel’s form. Since this morning, it had clearly been a busy day. His cheeks were flushed and his hair curling at the nape of his neck, and he had even caught a glimpse of luscious chest hair peeking out from the sharp v-neck that pulled across his chest. “I-“ Julian grinned to himself, come on, keep it together, “I was already on the metro when you texted back, so I figured I’d just...come here!”

Eskel narrowed his eyes and hummed. "Want a drink before we head out?"

"Oh sure, we can't eat the merchandise but you can give away free drinks to anyone who flirts with you?"

"I—You—would you just..."

Jaskier cut in, "I think you'll find that actually exactly how it works. Bit of an unspoken code. People have started taking advantage of it to get free coffee, though. Makes it hard for those of us who mean it..." Julian's eyes met Eskel's for a lingering second and Eskel had to remind himself to breathe. "London Fog, please, Eskel. But I'm happy to pay. I know tea is less expendable."

"Hm. See, Lambert? It's a barista thing."

Lambert rolled his eyes as Eskel steeped the Earl Gray in a bit of hot water, added vanilla, and steamed some milk. He carefully slid the finished beverage over the counter, one of his hands finding the tie at the back of his apron. “So...” he said, trying to decide between meeting or avoiding Julian’s intense gaze, “would you like that for here, or to go?”

"I think you'll find it's already in a to-go cup," Julian said, raising an eyebrow.

"That's because we're getting the hell out of here," Eskel said, and—much to Julian's instant pleasure and amusement—fluidly traversed the service counter, landing deftly on the other side. "I just need to change my shoes, and I'll be up in a second." Julian looked down to see Eskel's black work shoes covered with espresso and nodded, blowing on his tea as he watched, leaving him with the Prickly Brother, staring at him as he chewed his bacon.

Julian sipped his tea and peered over the rim at Lambert, who had been scowling at him the entire time. Though he didn’t take it personally, it was likely that was just his face. “So,” Julian started, thrumming his fingers on the side of the paper cup, “you’re the one who’s been eating all of the merchandise?”

Lambert scoffed and scowled sideways, the last piece of bacon sticking out from the corner of his mouth. He nudged himself off the back counter and swaggered close to Julian. "Listen. I don't know what your deal is. But if you fuck him over, you will have two very big, very pissed off brothers to deal with. Got it?"

"Fuck him over what?"

"'Scuse me?" Lambert said, scowling harder.

"You said not to fuck him over, but didn't specify what."

It took Lambert a moment, but he granted himself one singular chuckle for the little shit. “Alright, kid. Just- be careful with him.”

Julian smiled gently, peering over Lambert’s shoulder to where Eskel was striding back into the shop. “He seems like the kind of guy that I will certainly be trying my best to keep around.”

“Better believe it. You can spend your whole life looking, you won’t find a better guy than Eskel. He’s a fucking goldmine. But he’s our goldmine. Take his shine, you answer to us.”

“Yes, sir,” Julian mock saluted as Eskel handed something to Lambert. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was a piece of bacon.

“Geralt’s in charge,” Eskel rumbled (which Julian found enticing) and with that, he turned on his heel and pulled open the door. He held it open and Julian smiled as the two of them stepped into the evening sun.

Eskel took a deep breath as soon as they stepped into the fresh air, letting the warm sunlight spill across his face. It was beautiful to look at. His hair glinted with little chestnut highlights and his arching eyebrows became even more pronounced in contrast with the brightness of his skin in the evening glow. Julian watched the muscles of his face relax, the pressure of greeting people slowly dissolving. His shoulders dropped, and he looked truly exhausted for a moment before opening his eyes and smiling softly. “So, Julian. Do you like dog parks?”

Julian braced an excited hand on the swell of Eskel’s arm (and my gods it was firm), “I would love to go to the dog park...but will it be odd if we just show up, without a dog?”

Eskel laughed and Julian felt his knees go a bit wobbly and he tucked his arm around Eskel’s for support. He noticed Eskel glance down. Ah, right, a bit forward. Easy Jaskier. Julian smoothly transitioned to holding his cup with both hands and Eskel smirked privately, appreciating the non-verbal understanding. “No, not really. We can find a bench if it’s not too cold, lots of people come by and watch. Not everyone in the city can have an animal, people are pretty understanding of onlookers.” Julian still looked skeptical, “c’mon, it’s not like going to a playground. I promise we won’t be creepy.”

“Well...” Jaskier smiled, flipping his hair out of his eyes, “lead the way.”

Eskel walked slowly, stretching their time (and his legs) as much as he could. They made polite, easy small talk, finding little details about each other as they walked.

It turned out that they had surprisingly similar tastes in music, and Jaskier was both pleased and intimidated to learn that Lambert doubled as a DJ on weekends at one of the more popular clubs downtown. He was further surprised to learn that their father owned and operated one of the oldest Italian restaurants in the city and was quite famous because of it—he’d opened it as an homage to his Italian wife when she passed away unexpectedly—and while Papa Vesemir himself was Polish, he’d learned to cook from the best.

It seemed they were a culinary family, in fact. Both Lambert and Geralt had trained in professional settings—Geralt had a background in baking, while Lambert had trained on the line with his father. Eskel, it turned out, preferred to be behind the bar. He liked people. Enjoyed making drinks. His father always joked that he had the “magic touch.” Every drink he made always came out tasting better, even if he followed the recipe to a T.

“So, why the coffee shop?” Julien asked as they rounded the corner of the dog park. They both smiled as they saw fluffballs of all shapes and sizes bounding around, and Eskel led them to a small bench.

He kicked his feet out in front of him and sipped his own coffee thoughtfully. “It was something we all knew how to do, and we saw a niche missing in the neighborhood. We had originally wanted to make it a bit more of a hub for artists and public resources—you know, host workshops, put up fliers, put artists’ work on the walls to sell. It isn’t quite where we want it yet, but it’s our old neighborhood. Wanted to give something back to the community. Plus, we like having regulars. You don’t get the same thing with restaurants. Cafes, though, you can get to know people better. Build loyalty.”

Julian sat for a moment, looking at Eskel with a deeper appreciation than he already had. “You’re amazing,” he breathed, the words spilling from his lips without so much as a second thought.

Eskel flushed even deeper, his neck a very pretty shade of pink. “I wouldn’t say all that...”

“But I would,” Julian nodded, downing the remainder of his tea. “You’ve created something beautiful in a place that’s meaningful to you with your family, that’s amazing. And I’m allowed to say that, because I personally decide what is and is not amazing.”

“Fair enough,” Eskel raised an eyebrow and hid a smirk behind another sip of coffee. “It’s just... well everyone’s gone and opened up a coffee shop now, and it’s getting harder to see where our niche still sits. It’s a diverse neighborhood, we don’t want to alienate anyone, but we have to stay open... ah, I dunno. I suppose anything seems unremarkable if you’ve been waist-deep in the logistics for long enough.”

“Do you have open mic nights?”

“What?”

“Open mic nights, you know, local artists bring their instruments, read poetry, play music, promote new albums while people buy alcohol and food?”

Eskel tilted his head, “Huh...”

“Yeah. Huh.” Julian nudged Eskel’s shoulder playfully.

“The only issue with that is hours. We’d have to hire more staff and/or open later in the day so we can stay open.”

“You could man a proper bar again,” Julian sang, jiggling his foot at the end of his crossed leg.

Eskel reached an arm up and over and around Julian’s shoulder, “Julian, either you’re a remarkable person and I don’t know what on earth you could possibly want with me... or you’ve been sent by one of our competitors to play a long con and put us out of business.”

Julian tried valiantly to hide the shiver that ran down his spine just with the proximity, the weight of Eskel’s arm resting comfortably on his shoulders. “Well, if I told you that, then I’d have to kill you,” Julian smirked. Eskel threw his head back and laughed, reveling in the rejuvenating aura of the delight of a human that had deposited himself at his side.

“Hmmm, shall we keep walking? Or—I don’t want to keep you if you’ve got things to do,” his gaze on Julian was sincere and unassuming and the young musician was certain he’d never had less sense of any ulterior motives than he did in this moment.

“I should drop my things home before work, actually. But we can walk for a bit in the same direction if you like.”

Eskel shrugged, “Sure! Which way are we headed?”

“I’m an Eastender,” Julian smirked. “Off we go!” He offered his elbow for Eskel to take, which he did—a little tentatively and far more gently than Julian would ever have expected from someone so... physically imposing.

Eskel could feel the persistent thrum of blood under his skin, but not in a way that signalled any particular desire. He felt comfortable, more content than he had been in a very long time, and he felt like he could easily waste an entire day doing exactly what they’d been doing for the last hour. Walking, talking, laughing...

“What are you thinking about?” Julian asked, looking up at Eskel and stealing his breath in the same movement.

“I’m—uh—“ he cleared his throat again, “I’m thinking about how pleasant this has been and... also how comfortable I feel. I—well, I get the jitters, usually. With this kind of thing Which is not to say I haven’t still got them but,” they stopped walking for a moment, and Eskel turned to face his date, “what I’m trying to say is you’re very comfortable to be around. And that’s new.”

“Wow... honesty. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I’m sorry did-did I...?”

“Just make me more impressed?” That damn smile, “yes, I’m afraid you did. How tragic.”

Just like that, Eskel was lost again, caught up in those eyes that shone with an enigmatic innocence and penetrating observation that kept him looking and left him speechless. And Julian... well Julian was uncharacteristically at a loss for words in front of this stunningly kind, unbearably-gentle man he'd impulsively taken a chance on just a few hours ago because of a hunch.

Eskel wondered whether Julian had leaned a bit closer during their few seconds of silence and countered, leaning forward a little himself. But he didn't want to make the young man think he was in it for the wrong reasons. The fact that he was older and larger wasn't lost on him, and the last thing he wanted was for Julian to feel any pressure. Those bright blue eyes flitted to Eskel's lips, and he swallowed, waiting. But Julian's intuition was too strong—Eskel was hesitating. Instead of following his eyes to the full, soft-looking lips in front of him, Julian placed his hands on Eskel's chest and dispersed the tension.

“If we don’t keep walking I’m going to freeze my ass off,” Julian finally said.

Eskel huffed a small laugh. “Come on then,” he jutted his chin, and the two started walking again.

After a brief silence, Julian spoke, suddenly worried that Eskel felt rejected in some way, “For what it’s worth, I also feel quite comfortable. With you, I mean.”

“Yeah?”

“I find I’m starting to move away from the Village scene. It’s always nice to have a community, of course, be able to go to a bar and know you’re in good company but... in the city, everyone’s trying on identities and—it’s all well and good, they should, but it’s just... well, it was fun for a while. I just want to play music and make people happy.”

“Hm. I can relate to that.”

Julian stopped at the top of the street that would lead him to his apartment, not really wanting the evening to end, wondering whether Eskel was aware exactly how much he’d brightened Julian’s day.

“C-would you...I mean, if I- or-“ Eskel stuttered, his fingers fiddling at his sides.

“Go on...” Julian crooked his head with a gentle smile.

“Would you mind if I came to one of your shows?”

Julian closed his hands around Eskel’s shoulders and looked directly into his eyes. “Good God, please come to one of my shows so I can look at a face that wants to be there instead of my bored friends.”

“Well, I’m sorry it has to be my face,” Eskel fumbled in his self-consciousness, hearing the sound of his own distasteful insecurity. He grimaced inwardly. bad form, Eskel.

“Hm. Clearly, you haven’t met my pimply weak-chinned-not-at-all-utterly-dashing friends.” It was so easy. Ludicrously easy, the way Julian made Eskel smile in that moment. It truly was a remarkable feat, one that none of Eskel’s former failed romances had ever navigated as easily, or as quickly.

“Thank you,” Eskel said quietly, only for Julian’s ears.

“Whatever for?” Julian’s brow crinkled adorably and Eskel wanted to smooth the creases away with his thumbs.

“For...for being bold. Because I know I wouldn’t have.”

“Oh please. This is all stage presence and bravado. I’ve been on the verge of a nervous breakdown since I wrote my number on that napkin. Listen, I’ve—ahh I hate to do this but I really have got to run. We can text later or I’ll pop by the cafe tomorrow and—“

“Absolutely, do your thing, I don’t want to make you late. Let me know when you’re free and we’ll grab dinner.”

“I’ll check my schedule tonight. Should be free in the next few days. Have a good night, Eskel. I mean that.” Julian turned to go, but turned back, quickly pecking a kiss to Eskel’s right cheek, leaving the man standing with a half-smile of surprise on his face as he watched his new love interest scurry into his apartment.

Eskel walked back to the coffee shop, his cheeks pained from the smile that still hadn’t faded. The little bell above the door chimed and Geralt looked up from where was wiping down the counter, and Eskel heard a loud clang as Lambert dropped a metal pan and came running to the front of the now-empty cafe.

Eskel stood in front of his brothers. Geralt’s hand stopped where it was mid-wipe and Lambert fidgeted where he stood, hands on his hips. “So??”

Eskel hadn’t seen Lambert this energetic in a long time, and stood silently, drinking in his little brother’s excitement. Geralt came out from behind the counter, “Eskel. I don’t want to beat it out of you, but you’re leaving me with very few options.”

“Nah, Geralt, you gotta use smaller words. He’s clearly having a stroke. Eskel!” Lambert clapped loudly, “How did. It go. With Pretty Boy. C’mon, we’re tryna close up here!”

Eskel finally spoke, “I—yeah, it was great. I, uh, I really like him.”

“Fucking finALLY, BROTHER, THAT’S FUCKIN’ AMAZING!” Lambert practically jumped on Eskel, and Geralt sauntered over to put an arm around his shoulder. “You call Dad yet?”

“No, I want to wait. I want to make sure this time. Don’t wanna get his hopes up. Plus he’s... well, he’s a bit younger—“

Lambert cut him off, “Whoa, I’m gonna stop you right there. What do you always do?”

“Self-sabotage.”

“Exactly. So shut up with that shit. You like him, yes?”

“Yes. Definitely, very much.”

“And he likes you.”

“Well I mean—“

“That wasn’t a question. He likes you. End of discussion. He’s an adult, let him decide what he wants. Geralt?”

“Surprisingly sound logic, coming from you. Frightening, actually.”

Eskel nodded along as his brothers bickered back and forth. He felt like he was floating on air, without a tether to the ground.

“Oh, fuck, he’s really gone for him isn’t he?” Lambert muttered, watching Eskel’s eyes glaze over once more.

Eskel smirked and shook his head, “Fuck off, Lambert.” He playfully shoved his brother’s head to the side and went to count out the till and take it downstairs. He just sat down by the safe when his phone pinged.

Free for dinner day-after-tomorrow, playing a gig tomorrow night and Friday. Which would you prefer first?

Eskel smiled and typed out a response of his own, sending it before he could rethink it. Could I come to tomorrow’s gig and take you to dinner Thursday? I really want to see you again.

He felt his breath immediately quicken, but his hand was steady as he waited for a reply.

*...*

Oh Jesus God please just reply...

Gig tomorrow is at 8:30, Gibson’s Pub in Corktown. $5 cover and also $5 Mill St. on tap. Dinner on Thursday it is. Not fussy, but nothing too spicy. Your choice 😊

Not quite sure what we should do for dinner, but I’m sure I’ll think of something. I won’t miss it for the world. Meanwhile, Eskel knew exactly where he’d be going for dinner. He shot off a text to his father and requested a quiet table for 2 at his restaurant. Papa Vesemir never asked too many questions, but he knew he’d have to explain later.

If you have the opportunity to save the world rather than listen to me play Wonderwall at someone’s request, please do. You can hear that literally any time you want.

For my favorite son, what wouldn’t I do?

Eskel replied to both: That’s a tall order. Watching you begrudgingly play Wonderwall could let me die a happy man.

Thanks, Pops. I know you’re not working that night, just tell Giulio nothing fancy, okay? Just a normal two-top.

Eskel’s phone dinged twice more: Oh my gods, you really are trying to kill me aren't you? You’re too sweet ;)

Mhm.

Eskel continued on with Julian, content with leaving Vesemir to finish his night. Don’t get me wrong, there would be a deep amusement in knowing how much you definitely hate that song by now.

Oh, I absolutely despise it and it needs to go die horribly in a dumpster somewhere. At least now I’ll have a confidante tomorrow evening. You know, someone to really share my suffering with.

Will you play any of your originals?

Would you like me to?

Only if you want. I understand if you’d rather not share them right away.

Julian was quickly realizing the extent to which he had, very much, struck a gold mine. Part of him couldn’t help but wonder what was waiting around the corner to make things not work out This Time. But he shoved those thoughts back. I share my music every week with people who’ve either heard it all before, or are too distracted to really care. Mostly Tinder dates trying to gain hipster points. Please. I would be so happy to know you’re there and actually wanting to listen.

Eskel felt his heart flutter in his chest as he rested his elbows on the desk with a crooked smile.

I can’t wait, I’m sure they’re wonderful :) Eskel wasn’t really one to use emojis, but this one just kinda...slipped out.

He was whistling by the time he got to the top of the stairs and his brothers were already waiting for him, jackets on, lights out, floors mopped, door ready to be locked.

“Dinner? Eskel said, trying to wipe what he knew was a stupid grin off his face.

“Where to, lover boy?”

Eskel deferred to Geralt, “Hmmm. China down?”

“Mother Dumpling?” Eskel offered, pulling his collar up as they headed out, Geralt and Lambert sounding their agreement. With the cafe door closed and locked, the three brothers headed out into the evening.

#eskel/jaskier #jaskel #fluff #coffeeshop au #modern au

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gothamstodd · 3 years ago

Note

would you be willing to write some bonding between tim and dick? maybe outside of bat duties?

OKAY UM I'm sorry I've been dead.. but eighty years later I got an idea for this and wrote it in like an hour haha. So anon I hope you stumble upon this and like it!!

also sorry if the formating is whack I'm on my phoneeeee.

When Dick arrives at the small coffee shop in the heart of Old Gotham, just a few blocks down from WE, Tim is already waiting in line. Dick's only known Tim for a few weeks now, a month- tops- but somehow it makes absolute sense for him to arrive exactly on time, or even a few minutes early.

"Hey." He greets cheerily, sidling up the kid and ruffling his hair. Tim doesn't shove him off or duck away, only straightens his hair once Dick lets his hand drop. The older makes note of that, he's going to enjoy ruffling the kids hair until Tim inevitably gets annoyed with him for it. "How's it going?"

[[MORE]]

"Hi." Tim answers, stepping forward as someone orders their coffee and slips out of the line.

There's still one more person between the two of them and the cash register, so Dick asks again, "How's it going?"

Tim looks shocked for a moment, "Oh, you actually want to know?"

Dick chuckles, "Yeah, why else would I ask?"

Tim flushes, "I don't know, usually it's just like, an off-hand greeting, yaknow?" He scratches at the back of his neck, "But, good, I guess. How about you?"

Dick shrugs, "Good." He says, "I guess." He adds with a teasing smile. Tim rolls his eyes fondly and Dick's heart all but swells at the sight.

The person in front of them steps out of the way and they arrive at the register. Dick orders an iced vanilla latte since it's hot out and Tim asks for an iced black coffee.

Dick's a little shocked and raises his eyebrows, nudging Tim, "You can get whatever you want. On me."

Tim only shrugs, "Thanks. That is what I want, though."

The barista, who had paused to see if Tim's choice changed, picks up the cups and asks for Dick's name. When he gives it, she snorts, but scribbles it on the cups with a sharpie anyway. Dick pays and they move aside to wait for their drinks.

"I guess you get that a lot, huh?" Tim asks.

"People making fun of my name?" Dick raises his eyebrows, Tim nods. "Oh, all the time," He chuckles, "Middle school was hell."

Tim lets out a laugh, "I bet. Why don't you go by something else? Like Rick or something?"

Dick shudders, lip curling in distaste, "Doesn't feel right."

Tim nods, "I guess."

Within a minute, another barista is sliding two plastic cups onto the counter and calling out Dick's name. They pick up their respective drinks and step through the door to sit at one of the tables outside, the bell hung at the top of the door frame jingling with their exit.

"So… like… what are we doing?" Tim asks once they sit down.

Dick tilts his head, frowning, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, like, what am I supposed to be practicing? Are we waiting for someone? What should I be looking for? Just memorizing details again?" Tim says, rattling off the possibilities as his eyes scan the crowd rolling over the sidewalks.

Dick starts, "Shit, Tim this wasn't meant to be, like, a training session. I just- I wanted to try to get to know you."

Tim's frown deepens, "Get to know me?" He parrots, leaning forward in his seat and downing some coffee.

"Yeah, like; what are your interests? What's your favorite subject in school? What do you like to do for fun?" Dick supplies, drinking some of his own latte and eyeing how quickly Tim's coffee is disappearing with a spark of concern.

"Oh." Tim says simply, "Why?"

It should be an easy question, but for some reason, the answer feels loaded. Dick shrugs, "Well, I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other if, you know, you and Bruce decide you're going to be… trying on my old suit, and I don't want to be strangers."

Tim nods, "Fair enough. But we'll get to know each other through training, right?"

Dick shrugs again, "I guess so, but I don't want to just be partners in combat, I- I want us to be able to be friends, I guess. But if you don't want to hang out, I totally understand-"

Tim interrupts him, "No, I do!" He insists, "Want to hang out." He clarifies, "I just- I guess I wasn't expecting it."

Dick frowns into his latte. He'd taken too long with Jason, too wrapped up in his own jealousy and anger and abandonment issues, and they'd both paid for that mistake. Maybe if Dick had done this with Jason, if Jason had trusted him a little more, if Dick had let him be his little brother and made sure he knew Dick was someone he could count on, then- then maybe he wouldn't have-

Dick shakes himself away from that thought. He's already wallowed in that grief and guilt for longer than he thinks is healthy.

"You're thinking about him, aren't you?" Tim pulls Dick's gaze away from his coffee and back to attentive blue eyes.

"Who?" Dick hums.

"Jason." Tim says the name like it's a secret, like it's a curse word he's too young to know.

Dick sighs, leans back in his seat, and nods solemnly, "Yeah." He admits, "I- I was supposed to be his friend, maybe even his brother, I don't know. But- I was so jealous and bitter. I never really got close to him until a few months before-" Dick's voice breaks, but he forces out the words anyways, ignores the weakness and the shudder in his voice, "Before he died."

Tim reaches out and places a comforting hand on Dick's arm, which is resting on the table. Dick gives him a wobbly smile before looking away, avoiding his gaze.

Dick takes a second to gather himself, he chokes back the tears that are welling up in his eyes before turning back to Tim, "But I don't want to be your friend just because I have some guilt complex I need to address. How I reacted to Jason- that's something I learned from but it's not something I want to, I don't know, use you to make up for. I just- I want to do better, and genuinely, you seem like a great kid, really nice, smart. Jesus Tim, you're smart."

At that, Tim beams, honest to God, beams.

"Anyone ever told you that?"

Dick means it as part of the compliment, an expression to tack onto the end, but Tim answers anyway, "Not really." He says, blushing, "I mean, teachers, I guess. Nannies, sometimes."

Dick frowns, "Not your parents?"

Tim shrugs, making an expression like that's a strange thing to ask, as though wondering why in the world his parents would compliment him, "Not really." He answers in a questioning tone.

At that, Dick's heart aches and constricts in his chest, but he schools his expression and nods, "You should hear it more often."

Tim's grin doesn't fall, "Thanks, Dick." He takes another sip of his coffee, "For what it's worth, I think you'd make a great big brother."

And he does.

let me know what you thought! I hope you liked it! I don't usually write in present tense but it just came out that way haha

#dont tag as ship #ill tell ur mom #dick grayson and tim drake #dick grayson & tim drake #dick grayson #tim drake #batfam #bat family #bat brothers #bat boys #nightwing #red robin #robin #batman and robin #writing #answer #text #original

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jonah-aesthetic · 4 years ago

Text

That One Pt.1 I Jonah Marais

Jonah Marais X Reader / Ivette X Daniel Seavey

Plot: Since high school Jonah had a thing for y/n but never thought it was time for them. Now in college after a failed dare Jonah can’t help but throw himself into her life.

Word count: 6.4K

Author’s Note: This is nowhere near to finish so I’ve decided put them into parts. It’s has a lot of best friend content. A few POC characters, links to photos, and not much Jonah as I wanted there to be.

Rating: 16+

Part 2

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

The city was bursting with life and colour outside your favourite coffee shop. Vehicles slowly worked through the downtown traffic, many people weaved through the crowed sidewalks. The smell of coffee beans and baked goods was one of your calming scents, like honey or lavender.

Turning your head. The tall barista clad in a black shirt and a green apron made hos way to you. Holding your iced coffee and cookie in his hands, it was almost like you had a six sense for the beverage. You could feel the happiness start to spread to from your veins as if you could already taste it. You easy got bored on tastes if consumes often enough, but you know you could never get bored of this beverage.

“One Iced coffee, and a gingerbread cookie.” The barista’s soft brown eyes reached yours as he set both items on the table. “Thank you,” you said clutching both forms of happiness in my grasp. “Can I get you anything?” His question towards your Hispanic best friend sitting across from you. Ivette politely shook her head. “No, one coffee was enough for me. Thank you.” At her response I started at my third coffee.

“No problem, just give me a shout if you want another one.” you didn’t dare look at him, but you knew his eyes were on you as he said those words. “Don’t worry, she will. This one is a coffee whore.” the words were a playful attack.

“Ivette!” you warned,

“Those ones are a good flavour, aren’t they?” The barista, Trey as you read from his black name tag. Says before walking away.you threw a glare at her, “You know I’m studying for the up coming finals. asshole!”

“Oh come on! It was the perfect time to tease your tense ass. You’ve had that nose of yours in that text book all week end.” She shrugs her shoulders like she did you a favour.

“I know you don’t understand with that hefty trust fund of yours. But I can’t fail this, my entire future depends on it.” your voice soft when you explained it to her.

Her dark eyes shifted from yours to the table, her features softening. Silence washed over her bright laughable personality and you could felt the guilt rise. “I-I’m-you could always ask for financial help, we’ve been friends since Kinder.” Her voice softer now, she knew your dad always struggled with his work for years now. Yet sometimes she forgot, it was easy for her.

“I don’t wan’t to feel like a burden and you to feel like I’m only friends with you because of your family name.”

“why would I? especially when you’ve only asked for iced coffee and you always paid me back. Not to mention you still wear that apple watch I got you three years ago.” Glancing down at the smart watch circling your left wrist with a clean white band. She was right, Ivette just got you the newest version on your last birthday.

“This one holds valuable memories, like a relic.”

Ivette laughs “I’m sure it does, dork.”

Before you could say something you caught her eyes flick to something behind you. With a small twinkle in her eyes and a twitched of her lips you knew it was rather a somebody. “predator coming this way.” was all she whispered.

His Cologne wafted over you as you sense a masculine presence loom over you. almost Alpha male like, straight out of a fucking wattpad book you read last night. Finally looking up, your breath caught in your throat. You knew the male who was already staring down at you, a wolfish grin set to you like you were his next prey, his next target.

“Jonah” You acknowledged him,

“Y/N? Is it?” his voice deep as he slides in next to Ivette, letting out a yelp as he pushed her with his hip aside. Folded hands setting on the table top, fingers decorated with a couple rings. A leather jacket cover his squared shoulders, silk button down underneath. one or two buttons undone, caramel chest exposed. Bright determined green eyes locked on you, light brown curls framed his face perfectly.

“We have classes together.” The comment monotone.

“Right how could I forget.” The smile sly,

“You asked Marais, now continue.” Not a change in your tone as you stared back at him. Ivette choked out a cough and Jonah sent her an un-pleased glance.

“Anyways, my boys put a bet down.” His eyes switched behind you, following his gaze you say all four of them watching intensely. Sipping coffee as if this was their only entertainment.

“Not surprised.” you murmured under your breath, taking a sipping out of your coffee. Most of the sugar and cream washed out the original bitter taste of it. It was definitely an addiction, one you weren’t getting rid of soon as it calmed your nerves in the presence of him.

“For your number. a little immature if I do say so myself.” This one knew how to play his games, you’ll give me that. But you weren’t naive, never had been.

“No, thanks for the offer.” You voice condescending towards him. His expression slightly less predatory, You were getting to him.

“Interesting.” His eyes searching for any faltered emotion,

“The only thing that’s interesting is that you think you’re worth my time.” His wolfish smirk faltered, shock showed with surprised eyebrows.

“You don’t think I am?” His voice didn’t change.

“The only reason you interrupted us was because your little boys over there, dared you to get my number. But Knowing your reputation, that’s a waste of my time. Now will you excuse us we should be heading back.” Your voice sharp as you jabbed at him with each word.

“Damn your bite is brutal.” Jonah was amazed at the dish you served him.

“Only to the ones who deserve it.”

“I’ll see you around Y/N.” He winked , watching him get up you spoke again. “Oh and tell Jack I want his number.” You didn’t want it but you knew that would get under his skin. he only answered his a vicious glare and a growl.

Your eyes flicked back to Ivette, a proud smile upon her red lips. “That’s my girl, but dang that one is hot as hell. I would’ve caved, even if it’s just a quick fuck.” You laughed, she wasn’t entirely wrong.

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

Your focus set on the lecture in front of you, taking in all the information your professor was giving you. Tapping in notes on your beloved laptop, another gift from Ivette. Another one you had tried giving back multiple times, yet she had avoid you like the damn plague. Only making you fall into current and take yet another generous gift

Advanced English was one of your top classes, you’d let yourself lack every now and again. Not for too long but a big enough break to let yourself relax and light a candle.

The creaking sound boomed through the room as someone pushed open the door. Mr. Delton was use to the average late comer, not giving his attention as he taught the lecture in depth details on the subject at hand.

focus. focus.

Yet your eye caught a glimpse of milk chocolate curls, bouncing as he half jogged up the steps, light shift inside them making them lighter. He held his jet black mac book and an English text book in his arm. Wearing a white t-shirt rolled up at the sleeves a few inches. Revealing all the ink that scattered across his skin. Black jeans and browning converse at his feet. He was perfect save the acceptation of a purple bruise blossoming on his cheek right below his eye. And a red split through his bottom lip, Both going to get worse as the week continued.

Bruises that hadn’t been before.

Staring for a little too long he felt your prying eyes, his wolfish green eyes connected with yours. a flash of a smirk, you swore you saw him tear his cut before you forced your attention back on Mr. Delton.

You heard his every step from behind you, coming closer and closer. Now right behind you, hearing him take a seat. Dread entered your blood stream and you wished your heart to stop thumbing so fucking loud. Feeling embarrassed as if the student next to you could hear it.

a small hum from your phone arouse, you debated on it. The hovering presence of Jonah lurked stronger, yet you still fished it out.

Trey:Hey! was wondering if you wanted to get coffee after class?

Trey the barista from the cafe, the image of him popped into your mind. Dark chestnut skin, a beautiful contrast against your own skin tone. Mahogany coils framed his face, chocolate brown eyes. And those god blessed features.

You remembered how abruptly he stopped you as you and Ivette started for the exit. Giggling as he walked straight into a table and shattered a coffee mug in the process. He asked for your number, with a pink blush upon his cheeks. Genuinely surprised at the offer you gave it too him while you gave Jonah a glance. Green eyes threatening.

“The barista boy?” his breath fanning against your neck, making goosebumps rises and a shiver run down your spine. You’ve forgotten about that one with the slight distraction of Trey. Your phone slipped from your finger tips as you let out a loud yelp. Mr. Delton halts his lecture and the thud of your phone echos through the entire lecture hall.

Embarrassment flows through you again, sinking into your chair as every single person glares down at you. Swallowing hard as you felt your throat began to tighten. You knew you looked like a deer in headlight.

“She’s not feeling good, I told you to stay in your dorm today, Babe.” His voice loud enough for others to pry in. Bound to talk about you and Jonah later on, torturous gossip. you could already here it. You’d bite back and decline his words if you weren’t for this unfortunate situation.

Jumping over the chairs he helps you gather your things ushering you out. Everything in his arms both your belongings and his. You were beyond grateful that lecture was the reaching the end. As soon as the heavy door clicked your spun towards him, “What. The. Fuck!” Anger rippled from you in waves.

“What no thank you Jonah for saving me from embarrassment?” His tone mocking towards you, God! you swore you could slap that dumb smirking of his fucking face. Adding to his bruising face, he deserved it.

“You are so infuriating!” You yell, feeling it vibrate harshly against your throat.

“What can I say. I like playing with my food.” Fuck those green eyes. Fuck that stupid smirk.

“Fuck you!” was all you managed to say as if you could feel the stream burning off you. whirling away from him you continued down the wide hall of the university. If you stared at his taunting expression any longer you’d hit him.

“Come on! I’m not that bad.” Fake pouting like a child. Remembering he had a hold on your notes. You sighed whirling back around, heading back for him. Glaring Jonah down as you dragged the fire behind you, not a flicker in his demeanour. You swore his smirk grew as if he found amusement in your anger.

“You are, not to mention you put a target on my back. So thanks.” You say with a humorous smile on your lips. head slightly tilting as he furrowed his eyebrows, perplexed. You rolled your eyes at him, “You called me ‘babe’ as if we’re together..” you mimicking the motion of puking your breakfast out. He shook his head and chuckles. “..And if you haven’t notice you’re Jonah Marais, girls fall at your feet. Now they’re be slicing my head off.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Yet you don’t” His eyes trailing from you head to toe trying to read your body language. The anger stopped abruptly as if his words were like a bucket of water.

“You’re hot..” His green eyes darken at the confession, his teeth biting his bottom lip. “.. but you treat girls like conquests and you just a waste of my time, Jonah.” Dark green becoming dull green, He watched as you reached from your laptop, supplies, and phone. Letting them slip from his grip as they fall into yours.

“If that’s what you think,” Were wrong about him? Or was he trying to bait you? Honesty with the genuine expression you didn’t know what you believed now.

“Bye, Jonah.” You say softly before leaving him there,

“I’ll see you around, babe.” Taunting again,

“Fuck you.” You raise your left are and flip him off,

“Only if you want too.” You roll your eyes at his response.

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

With the pass few days your mind was drowning in piles of work. Still studying for those finals, they were coming faster then you had the time for. You were comfortable with the the amount of information cramped inside. Yet you still felt the need to be confident with the facts, as if you could teach the damn course yourself. There was no time for mistakes, not now.

Jonah Marais

There you were in the quad, sitting at a table far from everyone else. textbooks and random pages with notes on them splayed over the top. Not an inch on blue table insight. Phone on air plane mode as you listened to your trusted early 2000s playlist. vaguely bopping your head to the beat of the songs, mouthing the words, your foot tapping the cement.

Jack nudged Jonah with a tatted elbow, head whipped down to him. a noticeable scowl written on his face, not too happy to have his thought wonder from you. “What do you think shes listening to?” Words catching in his throat as he coughed “Who are you talking about?”

“The girl you’ve been staring at for the last ten minutes, I’m kinda shocked she hasn't felt you stalking her.” Jack’s brown eyes gleamed honey in the sunlight, a joking smirk upon his lips as he watched Jonah stutter, “I-I wasn’t.” He tried sounding convincing, but the taunting look on his best friend’s face told him otherwise.

“I’ve never seen a girl get under his skin the way Y/L/N does,” Daniel pipes in taking a seat in the grass with his beloved guitar.

“I’ve never seen him get humiliated like that. Was a treat watching you get rejected in a cafe.” Little Zach chimed in, cackling like a hyena.

“Enough!” Jonah barked out, turning a few prying eyes.

“Awe is Jonah getting mad that we’re teasing him about the girl he’s been pining after of years? Poor thing.” Corbyn’s voice is very condescending towards him. Sending All the guys into a full blown laughing fit. Jonah only glared at his band mates, of course they knew about y/n. The only girl who has never fell at his feet.

They went to high school together, never colliding groups through the years. Back then Jonah had every girl he wanted. Until one day in junior year he saw her, Actually saw her. At the time he didn’t know your name, she wasn’t one who cheered at band gigs. Wasn’t one to catch him in the halls and ask if he had any plans for the night. Jonah would remember a face like that, trust me.

He admired you through the art room’s door, open ajar. An old paint brush in your hand, chipping black paint on the handle of it, years of use wearing down on it. A palette of colours resting in your other as your focus was deeply upon the canvas. A lion roaring with immense detail laid upon it. Anyone looking at it could tell that lion wasn’t roaring out of fear or grief, but pride. The roar of the king, he was memorised by how in depth her detailing was.

Sliding through the door like a mouse, his attention went to the board. Spirit animal was written for this weeks assignment. Jonah was intrigued by you and your spirit animal. You had to think of yourself as a lion for a reason and he wanted to find it.That lion.

Glancing towards you he drank you in, from your soft hair to your wore in vans. Lost in the painting, you never felt his hovering presence. Taking a step towards you he halting, this wasn’t the time for her. he could feel himself saying deep down. She’s a lion, you’re not ready for her not yet. With that he slipped back out into the hallway.

He started noticing her more as if she was a ghost before spotting the lion. Never talking to her but watching from afar.

“Let’s rehearse, that’s what we came her for.” Jack says, Jonah felt relieved at that taking his seat in the grass. He was playing a dangerous game with his heart. Jonah knew that but he wanted her, but he didn't know how to make y/n his. A struggle he wasn’t familiar with, she was something else entirely.

“Let’s start with Lotus In.” Daniel says, starting with one of their newer songs. Attention on the guitar in his lap he began, fingers dancing with strings like they belonged there. Jack took in a breath before letting the lyrics flow from his lips.

Y/N

Jonah glanced over towards to you again, wondering when Ivette and her pack of Richies swarmed you. A ghost of a smile on your lips as you continued your conversation with her.

“Tell me you’re coming to the party this weekend.” Ivette’s voice drowning in sugar, knowing there was a high chance you were going to decline. “I just have a lot of things to do, like study and cram in some sleep.” You whined at her as if you were a injured puppy.

“Come on girl! you’ve been studying your soul away.” Julie, one of Ivette’s friends spoke up. Her voice soft as silk when talking to you like you were some seven year old. you fought the urge to roll your eyes an sigh at her, all of Ivette’s more fortunate friend treated you in this manner. You never brought it up because you knew she loved the company of them.

“There’s this dress in my closet I don’t wear anyone, it’s last season.” Julie offers, Irritating boils in your blood as you saw the pity ooze out of her like you were some charity case.

“ I was thinking about going shopping for one instead.” The words spill out of your mouth before you could think. You didn’t have the money to splurge on a dress at the moment. But you felt the need to prove yourself to her, to prove you were one of them. One who could spent a grand or two in a day without trouble. But you Weren’t one of them.

“I got you a gift, Actually.” Ivette cuts through the conversation like a knife. Placing a chunky box atop the table over your textbooks and notes. You look at her seeing a knowing glint in her eyes, she knew. She knew that you struggled in her world with her parents and her friends.

“You didn’t have to.” You say to her,

“Stop being so modest, open it.” Julie urges you, it took everything in you to not reach over the table and smack her. Engaging in a conversation with her was like talking to a chihuahua. A Beverly Hills Chihuahua.

A small reassurance from Ivette you began to remove the lid of the black box. Revealing crisp white tissue paper, spotting a vague green colour underneath. Picking various pieces out your eyes gazed upon a gorgeous forest green silk dress. Grasping it in your fingers you were mesmerised by it, lifting it up you saw it in all it’s glory.

“Wow, I think I’m in love with it.” You spoke,

“Me too, where did you get it?” Julie pipes in, gazing at the dress as if it was hers. It was a split between casual and formal, short and body-con-like. an open back with the straps criss crossing over and tying in the front.

“You wouldn’t of heard of it, it’s main stream.” Was all Ivette said watching you adore the dress in your hands,

“Are you coming to the party now?” Julie’s voice still sickly sweet,

“With a gift like this? yes absolutely.” A smirk etched onto your lips still in love with the dress. Ivette scanned Julie’s expression an noticeable sneer reaching towards you. She tried covering it with a grim smile, attempting to keep the jealousy at bay.

“Jonah is going to love that dress.” Ivette squeals, you drop it at the mention of his name. You praised to the gods you kept your emotions in check. Wanting to play along with Ivette and her game with Julie, “I’m sure he will. It’ll match his eyes perfectly.” you chime in finally, glancing over at Julie who could no longer keep her expressions at bay.

---------

Ivette began to slid the key into her door. Click. Turning the knob she opened the door revealing her generous apartment. Guiding you in, your hands holding the box that contained the dress she gifted you. A life saver against Julie and her lifestyle.

She throw her keys on the counter and they landed on the floor with a clang. “I saw the way Julie got under your skin, you had this uncomfortable look settle in your face.” Ivette says, jumping onto her couch with an exaggerated sigh. Taking it in like she hasn’t been there in five whole days.

“I’m-it’s just Julie talks to me like I’m some little kid, or your younger sister.” I say sitting on her wooden coffee to face her, connecting eyes she looks lost. Like you said your dog ran away. You don’t have a dog.

“Where’s all this coming from?” Propping herself on her elbow, concern etching her features. You shrug looking away at your feet, “Forget it, um. Where did you actually get the dress?” You ask not ready to say what you wanted to, knowing Ivette she’d run to the ends of the earth for you. God knows what she’d do to Julie and Julie was her friend.

“Okay, we’ll set it aside.Talk about it late.” Her voice soft and calming. you were grateful for her understanding, she never pushed and waited till you were ready.

Looking at her with gratitude, reaching her hand for yours she squeezed. Comforting warm pressure against your skin. Growing up with no siblings and only having Ivette as your best friend almost felt like having a sister.

“It’s thrifted fifteen dollars,” Ivette beams,

“Okay I’ll take it.” You say in return,

“I know how you hate my expensive gifts. Even though I’ve been giving them for years. I love gifting them to you because you appreciate everything I give you, you even try to give them back.” Ivette lets a giggle slip past her lips,

You hug her, arms wrapping around her neck like your life depended on it. Instantly she did the same taking you into her embrace. “I Just don’t want to feel like a burden.” You whisper into her shoulder,

“You’re not and you’ll never be, You’re my best friend.” She hugs you tighter to her body.

“I love you Ivette.” A warm smile spreads across your lips,

“I love you too, now lets get you into that dress before you make me cry.” Her voice strained knowing she felt the same, “Okay.” You say before both of you started giggling.

Letting go you hopped off the couch grasping the box in your hands. “I’m really grateful for the dress.” You say looking down at her, smiles reaching your ears.

“Stop, just stop. Go put on the dress and I’ll pick out a pair of heels.” She shushes your constant, pushing you towards her bathroom.

The dress was gorgeous by itself, but on you it was phenomenal. Silky green fabric pooling around your upper thighs, hugging your body in all the right places.The lacing in the back was complicated but you eventually got the hang of it. Tying it in the front, at least that’s how you thought it was suppose to go. If it wasn’t it still managed to look better this way.

Walking out of the bathroom you heard an intake of breath. “God that dress is a girls dream.” Ivette beamed at you with the brightest smile. Feeling a blush creep up your neck you spotted a pair of heels in her hand. As well as a gold necklace dangle between her finger tips.

“I’m in love with it.” You admit with a dreamy sigh.

“Jonah will love it as well.” She teases, handing me the shoes and a few pieces of jewellery. Grasping them you sigh, “Can you just let that go, it happened almost a week ago. Plus I asked Trey to meet me at the party.” You inform her, taking a seat on her bed and began to fasten the heels’ strap onto your ankle.

The heels were black and velvet with a chunky heel, barely having any foot coverage. Only having a thick band over your black toe nails and a strap around your ankle. You didn’t dare ask where they were from in risk of giving them back. You were working on that right now.

“The hot barista with Delicious chocolate skin?” Ivette basically melted speaking about him, letting out a giggle you nodded. “God you’re so lucky, he’s fine as fuck.”

“I know I saw him,” you said pride embedded in my tone, collecting the dainty butterfly necklace in my hands. Struggling to get in to clasp, a few tries before I got it. Matching dangle gold earrings, which were easy enough to not mess up.

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

Ivette’s car was wrapped in rose gold crome and was apparently a bitch to keep crisp and clean. Pulling open the passenger’s door you slid in, wasn't too long before the vehicle roar to life. Music pounding into your back with the windows rolled down. This was a party not a wedding so you both never bothered with intense makeup, leaving your hair like it was.

“I told Julie we weren’t going cause you came down with the chicken pox.” Ivette said turning the music down, you whipped your head towards her. “You do realised we just saw her less then five hours ago right?” A laugh vibrates in your throat.

“She fucked with my best friend, you think I’m just going to stand by? Absolutely not!”

“She’ll be there.” I stated looking at her, raven black hair tangling in her silver hoops. A devious smirk spreads on her red lips, “Oh I know,” You shake your head and roll your eyes playfully at her. She only laughs in response.

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

The stench of alcohol, nicotine and sweat has entered your nose almost making you sneeze. Party in full swing, music so loud you swore you saw the floor boards lift up. Taking a step back you thought of hailing a cab and studying for the night. Hand grabbing your arm, you look to Ivette. “It’s time you enjoy yourself, those books aren’t going anywhere.” She speaks into your ear making sure you heard every word. You sigh in defeat she was right, you let her drag you into the night you will definitely regret.

Dragging you through sweaty an intoxicated people, mustering up apologies along the way. Reaching one colossal of a kitchen, a massive house like this was mostly definitely a fraternity house. There was always this pristine a polished look of them, but this one was familiar. One you’ve been to many times before for weekend parties.

It belonged to Jonah’s band, they liked to call themselves Why Don’t We. As in why don’t we just start a band, you’ve heard the story many times. Ivette had an on and off relationship with their drummer Daniel Seavey. You had nothing against him, Daniel was a rare stallion with the heart of a golden retriever. Ivette was always the one to pull away from him scared of giving her entire self to him. He was a drummer after all.

“Babes what beverage is to your calling tonight?” Her voice soft against the shell of your ear. Glancing at the island prepared with every alcoholic drink you could think of. “Surprise me.” You respond with a soft smile on your lips, “The moment I’ve waiting for.” She teases separating from you to craft your drinks. Giving you the prefect opportunity to check if you received a text from Trey.

You hadn’t.

Anxiety starting to arise, where was he?

“Where’s your boy at?” Ivette brushed into you holding that playfulness towards you. Shrugging you shoved your phone into your dainty purse, “I don’t think he’s coming.” voice crumbling, well you didn’t know for sure if he was coming or not. But it was well over an hour when you were suppose to meet. And there was not a single message from him.

“Here mama drink up.” Ivette places a lime green cup into your hand, the colour coding for single. Tapping cups together in a cheers she counted down “1..2...10″ you rolled my eyes as Ivette skipped eight full numbers. Pulling the pink cup to her lips, taken. Which usually meant she was talking to Daniel again. She chugged the contents.

You followed, it was bitter. Burning along your throat as you gulped every last drop of it. The percentage was most likely 60 vodka and 40 coca cola. Your alcohol tolerance wasn’t weak but it definitely wasn't strong either. Taking the cup from your lips you coughed. “How was it?” Ivette asks with hopeful puppy dog eyes. You shook your head at her, “I’m never letting you pick again.”

“Perfect! now it’s time to dance.”

You barely had time to put the plastic cup down, before she was yanking you to the massive den. Into the heart of the party where the music was the loudest and most of the people had been. Cluttering together as if there wasn’t enough space for everyone.

Your mindset switched as soon you had a taste of the liquor, enjoying every moment as if you did this often. Hand in hand with Ivette as you danced together, bodies close together Feeling the music flow through you as if it was in your blood. Singing the lyrics of an older 2000s song that you knew like the back of your hand.

Jonah Marais

Music vibrated the walls almost shaking the frames off. Jonah leaned against the railing on the upper level of the house. Having full view of y/n tangled in Ivette Daniel’s girl. Sweat gleamed over her chest as red, blue, purple. yellow, and green lights flashed throughout the house. A blissful smile on her lips and hair plastering her skin. Unquestionably intoxicated by the alcohol she was given. He rarely got to see her like this and began to enjoy the sight of such a gorgeous girl.

Feeling the presence of a feminine shadow he never took his eye off her. Pressing into him he sighed looking at her, hazel eyes sizing him up. “Hey Jo.” She purred, “Jasmine.” He greeted her in a bored tone she never detected.

Jasmine was one of the many girls he got lost in through his time here. Jonah knew her body as if he saw it every day. He knew what pleased her and what didn’t, her save words and breaking points. But he didn’t know Jasmine not the way he wanted to know y/n. All Jonah knew was her body and he was getting bored of it.

“You said you’d be mine for the night.” He voice seductive and slightly pleading,

“I say a lot of things.” Tone still bored hoping to brush her off.

“Yes you do.” She hums and begins to press her body into his, feeling every curve of her. Breasts, stomach, hips, and the pulse of her core. Didn’t take too long before her kiss reached his neck. Soft and slow thinking this would release the beast within. Hold her against the wall, bodies pressed together. Instead Jonah shivered in disgust as her hands reached for his belt teasingly.

“Jasmine, this is a party not your sex chamber.” Daniel’s voice dripping in authority causing her pull away as if Jonah burned her. Relieve washed over him, eyes still on y/n as she grinds against Ivette. Her hands firmly holding her waist, acrylic nails embedded in the green dress. He began to wonder what that view would look like on him instead.

“Cock block often?” Jasmine scowled at Daniel,

“Think of it more as a rescue.” Daniel’s voice plain also bored with the girl in front of him.

“It’s okay to be jealous.” Jasmine purrs again. Can this chick take a hint? Or do I have to form words to make her leave?

“Not tonight, if you’ll excuse us we have some band issues to discuss.” It was a quick excuse to get rid of her. It worked as she said a quick bye to Jonah who ignored Jasmine. Hearing her storm down the hall in her heels that clicked behind her.

“I have no idea why you keep that one around.” Daniel sighs taking the abandoned spot beside Jonah. Elbow leaning against the banister supporting the rest of his body. “I don’t, she crawls back like a wounded deer.” Jonah replies not caring the way he talked about her.

“Yet here you are still fucking her.” Daniel bites at him not liking the way Jonah drowned himself when things got hard.

“On occasion.”

“That’s even worse,”

Jonah looked at his drummer, between the twinkle in his icy blue eyes and Ivette’s blush pink cup. He knew they were talking again, she had this effect on him that no other girl did. “I have a plan and I need your help.” I devious smirk plays onto Jonah’s lips.

Y/N

Your skin glistening with sweat, the adrenaline in your veins overlapping the pain in the core of your feet. Friction of the straps began to form open wounds, yet you didn’t notice in the bliss of the night. Smiling like an idiot as your body danced with Ivette’s, your best friend.

“We should take a break.” Her voice strained,

You nod, not wanting to sound like a dying cat with your sore throat.

“Okay good, because i’m exhausted, I don’t know how you do it!” She shouts taking your hand in hers, guiding you away from the crowed bunch.

“The alcohol seeping through my bloodstream.” Your tone in a duh manner like it was the most obvious thing in the worlds. Feeling the way the liquor took effect on your mindset, little hazy yet blissful and happy.

“Lets get some water in you. okay?” Ivette’s voice holding concern, brushing your hair back like an older sister. “Yes mom.” you sigh sarcastically, with that both of you are off to the kitchen.

Littering with a couple people not as much as the den. Talking and laughing, enjoying each other’s company. Making the memories they’ll have keep until they don’t want to.

Again Ivette hands you a lime green cup, but this time the substance in side wasn’t brown. But transparent with no wrenched stench this time, water. “Drink up, babes.” Ivette says, bringing her own pink cup to her lips. Hers contain the fizz sound of her favourite pop, Root Beer.

“What would I do without you?” You ask feeling the adrenaline fade from your body. The feeling of complete blissful ecstasy drain to a more content happiness.

“You’d most def--”

“Ivette.” Her name rolled off his tongue like a purr, like it was meant for his lips. Cutting or conversation quick she whirled around at the sound of his voice. Her breath shuttering at the sight of him.

Daniel stood in from of her in all his proud glory, his blue eyes fixed on her and only her. They smiled at one another, his cupid’s bow extending. “Daniel.” She acknowledged him. Glancing at me she widened her eyes for quick second trying to keep herself together. Blue eyes shifting he tilted his head at you, “Hope you were having a good time.”

“I was, thank you Daniel.” you say to him before finally taking a sip of your water. Cold sliding down your throat the perfect refreshment after the hour in the den.

“Always, y/n.” his voice smooth as he averts his attention back on Ivette. “Got time to spare me a dance?” Daniel extends his hand towards her, waiting for the acceptation.

“Sorry, Daniel but I’m y/n’s ride.” Both flicked to you at the excuse she put on the table. You gave he a tight lipped smile not saying a word but you knew she got the message you wanted to get across.

“I know that’s why I have Jonah, he’ll drive y/n when she’s ready.” Daniel threw a thumb behind him. Looking past Daniel you spotted him, Jonah leaned against the counter across the kitchen. Wolfish grin on his lips as he was sipping out of a lime green cup. It couldn’t of been Corbyn could it? No, cause that would be to much to ask for.

Connecting eyes with Ivette, you saw pleased in the browns of her eyes. Not for you to let Daniel take her but to say you didn’t feel comfortable with Jonah. You remembered the times she was completely and utterly happy with him. Saying that he was it, he was home. He was this amazing person for her but she was fucking scared.

You mentally apologised to her before saying anything, “She’s yours, I’ll be fine. Daniel trusts him, I trust him.” You forced the words to sound normal for his sake. Deep down you wanted to puke for saying those words, but it was for Ivette. “He’s a good person, he’ll get you home in one piece.” Daniel says before whisking your best friend from sight.

“I’ll get you back of this.” You swore you heard Ivette seethe, nonetheless you smiled after them. Wasn’t too long before you felt his presence loom behind you. Great here we go, it was a risk worth taking at least that’s what you told yourself.

“Hey, Babe.”

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

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed this piece.

Which was your favourite part?

Don’t be afraid to message me if anything offended you with my POC characters. This is a safe space for everyone and I want to make it right!

Taglist: @jonahlovescoffee

#jonah aesthetic #Jonah marais #Jonah marais imagines #Jonah marais fics #wdw #wdw imagines #wdw fics #why don’t we #why don’t we imagines #why don’t we fic #Daniel seavey #corbyn besson #zach herron #jack avery #wdw x reader #why don’t we x reader #Jonah marais x reader #🐆

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gukooky · 5 years ago

Text

☕️ ardent

previous //part 22// next

☕️ ardent masterlist ☕️

“Okay, I’m worried now,” Jungkook greets you with a frown when you pull open the door. You shyly move out of the way and motion for him to come in.

“Sorry about not answering you,” you mumble, closing the door behind him. Settling down on your couch, he grabs a pillow and hugs it on his lap.

“S’okay,” Jungkook shrugs, letting out a sigh of relief. “To be honest, the worst thought came to mind.”

“Oh?” You raise a curious brow, taking a seat on the other end of the couch. Putting your foot up, you lean your cheek against your bent knee and ponder aloud, “Like what? I ran away with Jaehyun to France?”

“Pfft, more like he kidnapped you or something!”

“Oh, bubs,” you frown, resembling the pouty emoji. “Glad to know you worry, though.”

“Of course I do,” he says as if it were obvious, his face contorting into one showing confusion. The room went silent for a minute; it wasn’t an awkward silence, however, it was more of a comfortable silence.

“Where are your roommates?” Jungkook broke the silence, looking around for your two friends.

“Hoseok is visiting family and Taehyung got stuck at work.”

“So you’ve been here alone?”

“For a few hours, that’s all,” you shrug.

“If I knew you were alone I’d have come over sooner to help you confront Jaehyun if you needed me to!”

Half-smiling and half-pouting, you lean over and pinch Jungkook’s cheek lovingly. “You truly are a cutie patootie, aren’t you?”

“I guess I am,” Jungkook rolls his eyes and looks away to hide the smile growing on his face. But you noticed.

“Aha! I saw that smile! You enjoy being called that now!”

“It grew on me, sue me!” Jungkook fires back, not bothering to hide the grin on his face this time. You scrunch your nose up, wondering if you were more amused when he didn’t like the nickname a few months back versus now, accepting it. “So what did you wanna talk about?” Jungkook reminds you of what you were worried about and you widen your eyes.

“Uh, well…” you stammer, scratching behind your ear nervously.

“What?” Jungkook furrows his eyebrows at your odd expression. Never did you cower like you were doing now.

“So, I spoke to Jaehyun, right?” You begin, trying to find a smooth way to change the subject.

“Uh huh, how was that, by the way? You haven’t told me anything,” Jungkook frowns, readjusting his position to be facing you. The two of you were both sitting on opposite ends of your couch, backs against the armrest.

“Oh, right!” You completely forgot you haven’t spilled all the details about your conversation. “I basically told him it was unfair to just ask me to come back into my life after abruptly telling me…” You trail off, realizing WHY you didn’t tell Jungkook in the first place.

“Telling you what?” Jungkook leans forward a bit, looking interested.

“He uh…he told me he was still in love with me,” you stammer quietly, looking down.

“He what!?” It was almost comical how Jungkook jolted upright, crying out like it was the most bizarre thing he’d ever heard.

“Yup,” you confirm, blinking slowly.

“And, what’d you say? Are you-no, you’d be with him right now if you-right?” Jungkook blurts.

“I told him the truth. I just don’t love him anymore,” you answered, feeling heat rise up your neck. “And then he asks why. Why, of all questions! And I just tell him I’m in love with someone else.”

“I see, I see,” Jungkook grabs his chin and imagines your interaction before freezing. “You-you’re in love with someone?”

“Yeah, and it took a while to figure out, too. If anything, Jaehyun was part of the reason I realized I was in love with this person. My friends were convinced I’ve been crushing for weeks but I was too stubborn to admit it.”

“Hold on a minute. You’re in love love with someone?” Jungkook repeats carefully, still trying to wrap his head around it.

“And how is in love love different from in love?” You tease, a smile growing on your face.

“W-Who!? You haven’t hung out with anybody the past few weeks but me and your roommates. Have you been keeping secrets from me-”

“Repeat what you just said,” you cut him off, waiting for him to understanding.

“You haven’t hung out with anyone but me and your roommates,” he spoke quietly to himself, focusing on the ground, wracking his brain. He looked up as if a light bulb went off before his face grew sour, “you’re in love with one of your roommates? Hate to tell you this, but don’t you know they’re-”

“Oh my god, you idiot,” you smack your forehead with your palm, shaking your head profusely. “It you, you dummy! I’m in love with you!”

“Oh,” Jungkook relaxes back on the couch, before sitting up again. “Wait, me!?”

Sighing, you could only grin and nod. Seeing the realization spread across your face was probably one of the purest reactions you could’ve ever witnessed. His face was so lost at first, wondering who on earth you were talking to. Then from the once lost look, came the wary one, assuming it was either Taehyung or Hoseok you’d be in love with. And finally, probably the cutest expression of all, the tomato-faced, pursed lipped Jungkook who was trying to do everything in his power to not look embarrassed. It wasn’t every day he was confessed to by his high school crush, after all.

“Um, Jungkook? Are you okay?” You ask with caution, waving your hand in his face. He’d been sitting frozen for seconds and it began to worry you. “I’m sorry if this ruins anything between us but I had to tell you because...well, I couldn’t keep it in.”

“You mean to tell me,” he begins slowly, “that when I said I was going to get you to eventually fall in love with me as a stupid freshman in high school, I was actually right!?”

You let out a sigh of relief, grinning, “Maybe freshman you isn’t as stupid as you originally thought.”

“I guess not,” he blows out a puff of air from his mouth, looking up to look at you in the eyes for the first time since you confessed.

“Uh,” you rub the back of your neck, bashfully, “now’s usually the time when you reject me or accept my feelings so if you could-”

“Oh right!” He snaps his fingers, lips curling upward. “Y/N, do you even have to ask? I think it’s obvious I’m utterly and completely enamored by you. I’ve never been so close or allowed to be so close with a girl before. That’s part of why I was so awkward around you in the beginning. Sure, we were friends, but I never really had girl friends?”

“What was the other part?” You ask softly,

“That I liked you in high school,” Jungkook ruffles his hair, looking as shy as ever. “Every time I saw you walk into the cafe, I felt like the same guy who used to hide behind his locker door, trying to get a glimpse of you with your friends. And then you’d walk right up to me so I could take your order and half of the time, I’d just stare dumbfounded because it was still hard to believe I was seeing you face to face even after high school. Not that you noticed anyway…”

“Hey!” You frown, crossing your arms, “I’m horrible with faces so forgive me for not realizing it was you! Trust me, if I had better memory, I’d never forget a face like yours.”

“I don’t blame you. I wasn’t on your radar much in high school either and I don’t blame you for that. I never made an effort to know you. I was just hoping for that moment when you’d notice me.”

“I’m sorry it took a few years but hey, i’m here now,” you wince by the end of your statement, hoping that could make up for high school.

Jungkook leans forward and puts your face between his hands, squeezing gently. “Now, who’s the cutie patootie?”

“Still you,” your voice was distorted from the way your cheeks were squished together. Jungkook smirks at you, finding your expression amusing. You stay still, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Warmth spread within you when you noticed his grip loosen and his face was now only centimeters away. The gap between you was nearly nonexistent when-

RRRING!!

Jungkook pauses but decides to ignore it. Again when he tries leaning in again-

RRINGGG!!!

Jungkook groans, pulling away. He fishes for his phone in his pocket and annoyedly pressed the answer button. “Yes?” You watch his expressions in amusement. “I’m at Y/N’s. You’re kind of interrupting something...Not like that!...I hate you...I’ll be back later...Bye.”

“Who was it?” You ask when he ended the call.

“Jimin,” Jungkook frowned, making a mental note to smack Jimin next time he saw him for ruining your moment. “Anyway…” Jungkook took advantage of your distraction and pulled your wrist so you were the one who leaned forward. You gulp, never expecting his boldness. Your lips barely brush against each other’s until a loud knock from the front door makes you spring apart in fear.

“Y/N! I left my key inside!! Hobi’s back and downstairs in the lobby!! Can you open the door!” Taehyung’s loud voice sounded muffled behind the door.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” You mutter to yourself in frustration.

“Y/N? Are you there?”

You jump to your feet and march over to the door. Opening the door only a crack, your angry eyes bore into Taehyung gleeful ones.

“What’s with the face? Is it the Jaehyun thing because darling, men ain’t shi-”

Jungkook clears his throat from behind you, causing Taehyung to furrow his eyebrows in confusion. “Is someone there with you?” He looks over your shoulder to see Jungkook sitting impatiently on your couch before a look of realization crosses his face. “Oh my god,” he whispers to himself. Grabbing the doorknob he send you an apologetic smile before shutting the door. You could hear his screams as he ran down the hall.

‘Hobi!! Our ship is in our apartment! Let’s go get some sushi!’

You turn around and send Jungkook a flat look. He stands up and swiftly walks over to you. “Now, before we get any other interruptions,” he cuts himself off and finally smashes his lips against yours. His long awaited kiss was actually being written in history and he was elated. You felt like mush in his arms, allowing him to hold you as you melted in his grip.

Never did you think that the wary barista would actually accept being your friend but willingly in love with you? That was something you couldn’t even imagine but you couldn’t be more grateful.

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fanfictionfansmiction · 4 years ago

Text

Interruptions

George reader insert modern au. Basically George has been your barista for months and you bump into him at the club but something gets in the way. Word count: 2533

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“Admit it! You’re in love,” Lavender extended the vowels like chewing gum, “don’t look at me like that! You haven’t stopped talking about him all week!” She buzzed with excitement, that finally her loveless roommate had a crush. She could barely contain the gasp that too anyone else would seem completely over dramatic but for Lavender this was tame. She eyed me knowingly as she reapplied her burgundy lipstick. Just as I was about to break and admit my crush Luna floated in draping her paper white arms delicately over Lavenders deep brown exposed shoulders. Luna planted a kiss on her cheek leaving a shiny residue of her sparkling lip gloss and then she gave me one to. In her hand she had a large glass of shimmering champagne that she somehow managed not to spill a drop of.

“What’s the crack girls?” She asked looking at Lavender. All Lavender gave her was a look. Unsurprisingly that was all it took. A wild grin grew on her face. The excitement of love! They would say and start giggling. I loved all of it really, but I had to keep my cool.

“I have absolutely no idea what she’s told you Luna but it’s not true! You know what she’s like,” I side eye Lavender who had resumed her knowing look, “I don’t even know the guys name! Yes, he gave me a free coffee one time but that was it! A gesture of goodwill, please can we drop it.” I plead dramatically.

“A free coffee! When’s the wedding?” Luna started.

“I was thinking a winter wedding.” Lavender finished.

My cheeks were burning, and I couldn’t stop myself from throwing my head into my hands. Shaking my head. God why are feelings so embarrassing.

“Right young lady,” Lavender said sternly, “I can’t have you feeling sorry for yourself. We are going out and we are going to have fun. So, for the moment you’re just going to have to get over the mortifying ordeal of feeling fuzzy feelings for someone you barely know! Here take this.” Lavender hands me a plastic shot glass of a green liquid that smelt like apple. I peered up and looked at my friends. A smile gave me away and then we drank.

We had made it from the flat, to the pub and now we were in line for the club. All of us dressed up and feeling very much like the most beautiful, funny, intelligent and wonderful people to ever grace the earth. Luna brought along some old school friends who had names I probably had been told but I was shooting blanks. She had her arm slung around the waist of a strong looking girl, face splattered with freckles and fiery ginger hair. Nattering with Lavender a girl with wild curly hair and hands somehow still covered in ink. We weren’t too far from being let in, each of us clinging to our ID’s and laughing about something stupid that happened earlier in the night. I kept fidgeting. Looking around and chewing on my fingernail.

“What’s up your arse?” The ginger girl asked me.

“Oh, she’s just in love.” Lavender said stretching the vowels a little further this time.

I slapped her bare arm, shooting her a look that I hoped would put this conversation to bed. She was about to open her mouth again.

“If you drop this conversation right now and for the rest of the night, I will buy everyone a shot.” They considered it and then all of them nodded and quickly changed the subject.

“Ginny why are you complaining?” I heard Luna whine.

“Because my brothers are out tonight and I’m pretty sure they’re already in the club.” She stamped her foot like a younger sibling does. I had to stifle my laugh because I could see my younger sister doing the same thing.

When we got inside, we weren’t cold and shivering anymore. The air was thick and the wooden floor disgustingly sticking. The girl with the large hair whose name I learned (Hermione) checks in her wool coat and Ginny’s denim jacket.

I make a bee line to the long bar that stands away from the crowded dance floor. The line was almost too long for me to care but I did promise shots and I am a girl of my word. I was quickly wishing I were more covered up. All the crowds pushing and shoving me. Being jabbed by sequins and zips. Not incredibly fun.

I found myself pushed up against someone much taller than me. Wearing faded jeans and a strange graphic t shirt. That’s all I could see from my restricted viewpoint. But then he looks down at me. A face full of freckles and orange hair illuminated by the changing lights. My barista. His brown eyes look down at me and I almost expect him to recognise me, but he doesn’t. His smile is wrong, not enough teeth and he’s missing a dimple. Not my barista. My face must show my disappointment because he starts to stay something. Which I can’t hear so he leans down. Hot breathe on my already sweaty neck.

“Don’t look so disappointed love, you aren’t my type either.” He chuckles. Then I look at him and feel the urge to explain. So, I plant a hand on his neck that must still be cold because he shivers and I talk in his ear.

“Sorry, you look like someone I know. But you aren’t the right one.” I say shrugging. Before he can respond I’m called forward to the front of the line. I’ve upped my order to two shots a person. They give me a silly circular tray that I am determined to defend. When I reach my friends, I have successfully kept everything together.

A chorus of yay and yeahs squeal over the thudding music. The shots are gone before I know it and Hermione only took one, so I have her other one and I’m ready to dance. That’s when I see the guy who’s not my barista again, it seems like he’s about to approach me until he looks beyond me and I can’t help but turn to see at who he’s poking his tongue out. He must be Ginny’s brother. He decides that whatever he was going say is worth it because he saunters over. Definitely not my barista. A wild look in his eyes and a wide grin.

“Hello again love.” He mouths. “I think you might know my brother.” He says. “Do you go to his coffee shop?” He asks. I nod. Then somehow his grin grows wider. Before I could ask if his brother is here, he disappears into the crowd dancing. I shake it off because I’m here to dance. I take Lavender by the hand and spin her around. We dance like an old married couple in a kitchen singing songs to each other. I’m having fun and I feel light. Someone catches Lavenders eye, and she sways over to them. She is going to have a fun night.

So, I go to dance with Luna, but I see that her and Ginny are closer than I knew so I decide to let them have their fun. I notice Hermione having fun and I decide to join her. We jump around in a circle and laugh together. She says she’s spotted her boyfriend and they need to have a conversation. I follow her eyeline to see someone who looks like Ginny and my barista. How many of them are there? I shrug again. Must be time for another drink. This time at the bar I see my barista. Black jeans instead of blue and a mustard colour crew neck. I look up at him to see if he sees me too. He’s not but his face is flushed pink and he’s chewing on his lip like his life depends on it. Why didn’t I read his name tag? I’m in that coffee shop every morning and evening why haven’t I learned his name? He quickly looks down at me like he’s checking I’m looking at him. Now the pink is a little darker. He looks down at me now smiling. That’s my barista. All teeth and a single dimple that casts a little shadow on his face. Now my cheeks are burning red. It’s my turn to look away. He bumps into me purposely and I look up at him. He bends down slightly to talk into my ear. The hair stands up on the back of my neck.

“Caramel latte with almond milk, right?” He asks, he voice deep and struggling to be heard over the music. It’s my turn to talk in her ear. I place my hand on his neck to steady myself.

“And you’re my barista.” I say.

He pulls away to look at me but keeps my hand there. He asks, “Your barista?”

I take a shaky breath in deciding how to play this. I’ll be someone I never am, someone who says what she means.

I tilt my head, “Yes. My barista.” He chokes on something and coughs a little.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks but he doesn’t wait for me to answer. He orders me a drink and leads me to smoking area where we share one chair. It’s still cold outside and my body heat seems to be running out of me. He drapes his arm around my shoulder rubbing his red hands up and down my arm. I turn to look at him and I realise I’m basically sat in his lap. I look up and we’re basically nose to nose. Looking away I down my drink which makes him laugh. A low rumble that I can feel in his chest.

“So do I get to know you name?” I ask.

“George.” He smiles at me, the light from the club dancing over his face. I go to ask if he needs mine but then he says it. As though he’s been waiting to say for months. It makes me blush like he said something inappropriate. It sounded like he did. So, I begin to question if it was my name he said.

“You know my name?” I ask a little breathless and beginning to feel the heat re-enter my body.

“Of course,” he brushes a strand of hair out of my eyes, “prettiest girl to come into the shop and the best tipper I’ve noticed. My brother said he ran into you at the bar. He sent me there to wait for you. I was beginning to feel a little ridiculous. Until I saw you staring at me.” He laughs quietly like we’re alone.

“I was making sure it was you.” I say in a hushed tone reserved for museums.

“How’d you know?” He asks edging closer so our noses bump.

“Well you’re the prettiest barista in town. Your brother doesn’t compare.” I say. Just as I feel us edging closer and his lips brushing mine someone clears their throat in front of us. I slump my head onto his shoulder and George looks at the person.

“What Gin?” He asks in a huff.

“There’s a girl emergency and she is needed.” Ginny says strongly like she’s asking for her toys back. George groans like he’s not done with me. I sigh because I know I’m needed but I’m also not finished with him.

“I have to go. If I don’t see you tonight, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I say kissing his cheek and push his hair out of his eyes.

“I hope you know you don’t have to pay for coffee anymore.” He shouts after me.

After finding Lavender weeping in the toilets I do my best to carry her back to our flat. Where I take her makeup off, brush her teeth and carry her to bed.

“Night Lav.” She whines in response. I switch off her light and close the door.

I wake up before Lavender and as I wander out the door in clothes, I’ve thrown on I see the rest of the girls laying across the sofa and the floor. The plan is to get everyone coffee. I don’t expect to see George in the shop but he’s not working. He’s in the queue looking as bad as I feel. When he sees me, he flushes red and doesn’t know where to look. Suddenly I feel just as shy, but I go next to him anyway. He looks down at me and then wraps an arm around me and kisses the top of my head.

“What are we getting?” He asks.

He pays for the drinks and brings them back to the flat me, not letting go of my hand as we walk. Ginny groans when she sees her brother causing Lavender to peak out of her door wrapped up in her duvet.

I give everyone their orders and make toast for them all. George and I laugh when Luna makes a quick exit to the bathroom. I cover his ears and he cover’s mine. So we don’t hear her bring up last night in the toilet. Slowly all the girls shower and collect their stuff to begin the walk home. Lavender manages to cry through the full story of what happened last night, blowing her nose dramatically as she does. I rub her leg and tell her men are stupid. George agrees making us another hot drink.

Lavender’s phone rings and she scurries back to her room. For the second time in twenty-four hours me and George and alone together again. Standing in the kitchen. Closer than you would stand to a friend. I don’t know what to say. So, I just look at him. He looks at me. I hug him, holding him close. Close enough to smell the coffee beans and to feel his heart racing. The TV still on the music channel begins to play a mushy love song I never learned. I move my arm to rest on his lower back and take his hand with the other. We sway in the small poorly lit kitchen. Laughing as we stand on each other’s feet. Still we dance together in the kitchen like an old married couple. Until the song changes to something I didn’t know you could slow dance to.

The TV goes on standby and now we’re just holding each other in the kitchen. His hand brushes through my knotted hair which makes us laugh. I rest my hand on his neck which makes his face soften. He says my name again like a wish I know will come true. I wait for him to kiss me or to say something to acknowledge how strangely familiar this all feels. Then his phone dings. He groans again. Cursing under his breath.

“It’s Fred, Mum’s expecting me for dinner.” He looks at me with pained eyes, “I have to go.” I whine. This time Fred kisses me delicately like he knows if he kissed me harder, he wouldn’t be able to leave. I give him my number before he leaves, promising that next time we won’t get interrupted.

#george imagine #george weasley x reader #george x reader #george weasley reader insert #harry potter imagine #george wealsey imagine #george reader insert #reader insert #george x y/n #george wealsey x you #george weasley x y/n #harry potter reader insert

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redqueen-hypothesis · 4 years ago

Text

maybe, home ➳ shaw (mlqc)

➳ PAIRING: reader x shaw (mlqc)

➳ WORD COUNT: 5191

➳ GENRE: sick!shaw, fluff

➳ SYNOPSIS: shaw falls ill and tries to hide it. you won’t stand his lies.

➳ REMARKS: happy yeeshaw day!! here’s to furthering the shaw agenda!!

He feels like shit.

Groaning, Shaw raises a hand to block out the sunlight currently assaulting his face, eyes squinting. His head is pounding like crazy, throat as dry as sandpaper. He wants to get out of bed and shut the damned curtains, but nearly retches the second he tries to stand, stomach heaving and the taste of bile bitter at the back of his throat.

Collapsing back onto his bed, he lets out a soft grunt, limbs aching. A cold? “Fuck.”

The ringing of his phone makes his ears hurt. A pained huff leaves his mouth, and he reaches for it, swiping the call button without a second look at the contact. “Who the fuck is it-”

“Shaw?”

At the sound of his name coming from your lips, Shaw pauses for a moment, mildly surprised, before realization catches up with him. He throws his head back to the pillows in flat out exasperation.

How could he have forgotten? He was supposed to meet you today at the train station at eleven, so that he could bring you over to the antique shop to choose prop materials for one of your shows.

Shaw glances at the clock sitting at his bedside table. Ten-fifty, he can still make it if he hurries. He’ll be late, of course, but you’ll forgive him after a light scolding, he knows-

“Shaw, are you still in bed?” He knows what expression you’re making, tongue pushed into your cheek with a pout on your lips. He can read you like an open book, every face you make etched into his memory. “You said to meet at eleven!”

“Heh, sorry. I overslept.” Shaw makes sure to keep his voice flippant, one hand bracing against the edge of the mattress as he waits for the nausea to subside. It doesn’t. “Ten minutes, am I right?”

He’s cold. Light shivers run up and down his body, although when he presses the back of his free hand to his forehead, his skin burns hot against his palm. No doubt about it, definitely sick.

“Hurry up! I knew you were going to be late as usual so I left later, but it seems like I’ll still be too early.” You complain, and Shaw lets out a quiet laugh at your words, fingers digging into the covers. He can hear the tinkle of a shop’s bell and quiet chattering, surmises that you must be buying your usual coffee at your favourite cafe now. You’re not too far from the train station.

He needs to hurry up. He wants to see you.

“I got you muffins, so you can skip breakfast and come right over.” You continue speaking, pausing for a moment when the barista calls your name to hand you your order. “I baked them myself, so you have to be my willing test subject and taste all of them, alright?”

You baked muffins for him. Goddamnit.

Shaw tries to get out of bed, he really does, but the second he gets to his feet, the room starts spinning in dizzying circles and he’s forced to stumble back to the bed, collapsing on the sweat soaked covers. A bitter chuckle leaves the back of his throat, one arm thrown over his face. What would you think if you saw him like this?

“About today,” Shaw swallows, throat scratching painfully with each word he speaks. “Something just cropped up, so I won’t be able to come. You know where the key is, just go ahead and take whatever you want.”

It’s a flimsy excuse, he knows, so patchy and full of holes he almost does laugh at himself. But he doesn’t want you seeing him like this, sick and weak and pathetic. That would be laughable, wouldn’t it? Him, weak?

“...Alright. The muffins will have to wait another day, then.” Shaw hates how disappointed you sound, even over the phone. He runs a hand through his hair, damp with sweat, trying to keep his voice steady. “Rain check?”

You finally let out a little giggle at his joke, and the corners of Shaw’s lips involuntarily pull up at the bright sound. “Okay. I’ll see you on another day?” You sound so excited to see him again that his chest clenches in response - he blames the fever.

“Yeah-” He starts to say, but is cut off by a sudden coughing fit. Shaw holds the phone away from him as he thumps on his chest in an attempt to quell the hacking, but it’s too late, and he can already hear the concern in your voice over the call.

“Shaw! Shaw, are you alright?”

“I’ve got stuff to do, I’ll reschedule with you next time.” He interrupts, trying to stop himself from dissolving into another bout of coughing. “Gotta go.”

He hangs up before you can say otherwise.

Switching his phone to silent and tossing it to the side, Shaw slumps back onto the mattress, bare skin breaking out in goosebumps as shivers run up and down through his body. He feels fucking awful. His gaze falls on the shark plushie you’d given him as a birthday present on the bed next to him, its jagged teeth bared in a big, dumb smile.

Apparently, it reminded you of him. He still can’t see the resemblance.

“She doesn’t have to know.” Shaw tells the shark. It stares back at him with beady eyes, as if firmly disapproving of his lies. “Don’t look at me like that.”

The plushie isn’t cowed in the least by the threat in his voice. It just continues to look at him, eyes unblinking. It reminds him of you.

Shaw grumbles, and tugs the shark to his chest. It’s soft, the fuzzy material of the felt slightly ticklish against his bare skin. “You’re no help at all, you useless fish.”

He falls asleep curled around it, fingers clutching one of the fins tightly.

He kind of wishes it was your hand instead.

>>>

You can’t find it.

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you search about in your bag, brows furrowed. Shaw had decided to bail on you today, telling you that something had suddenly come up; and while you aren’t quite convinced, you’re sure he had his own reasons for cancelling on you so suddenly. You could go to the antique shop on your own (the key is under the flowerpot outside the entrance), but you don’t want to be there without Shaw. It just wouldn’t be the same.

Earlier, just before he’d hung up on you, you’d heard him coughing heavily and had been instantly worried for him. Shaw always seems so strong, so casual even in the most dire of situations, so you can’t quite imagine him sick. The thought is almost unimaginable, although you knew he’s human too, just like the rest of you.

If by any chance he is sick, well... you want to be the one to take care of him.

Hence, here you are - outside a warehouse (you’d almost thought you’d gotten the wrong address by accident at first), rummaging about in your bag for the spare key he’d given you for emergencies. You don’t know if this constitutes as one, but you’ve called him several times after he hung up - only to get sent straight to dial tone.

Worry tugs at you, urging your hands to move faster. You reach all the way down into the bottom of your bag, past the box of assorted muffins, and your fingertips touch cool metal.

“Yes!” You let out a little victory cheer, sliding the key into the lock, teeth clicking smoothly against grooves. A turn, a twist, and the door to Shaw’s home swings open, revealing a dark space beyond. You’ve never actually been to his home, but now that you’re here, you can’t help the sense of anticipation that fills you. What does his home look like?

The door opens into a huge warehouse turned studio apartment, industrial lighting and cables dangling from the ceiling and half finished graffiti covering the walls. The odd skylight punched into the roof here and there allows the late morning light to shine into the room, brightening up dark corners and illuminating a surprisingly well kept kitchen area.

Shoved against a wall at the far side of the studio are two mismatched mattresses pushed together, and there’s a pair of bare legs sticking out from beneath the blanket. Curious, you shift closer as if in a trance, and your mouth slowly falls open at the sight exposed to your eyes.

It’s Shaw, sprawled horizontally across both mattresses, fast asleep. Peeking out under the blanket with him is a familiar smile full of white felt teeth, and you find yourself grinning at the sight of Sharky practically being suffocated in Shaw’s arms.

“So cute.” You whisper to yourself, pulling out your phone to snap a picture. At that moment, Shaw mumbles in his sleep and rolls over onto his back, causing the blanket around his torso to slip down and reveal bare skin-

Oh my god.

Your scream must have broken the glass of the windows. At the sound of your voice, Shaw makes a confused snort in his sleep drunken state, his golden eyes flickering open blearily before they come to land on you.

He’s still naked.

You let out a squeak and immediately duck into a crouch, hands over your eyes. Your cheeks are on fire.

You don’t know how red you are right now.

“I didn’t see your... your...” Your mouth moves soundlessly, unable to form the word that is far too prominent in our mind right now. Your eyes are still squeezed tightly shut. “Your... dong.”

A second of awkward silence hangs between the two of you.

Suddenly, you hear a quiet laugh break out from above you. It’s soft, scratchy with sleep, and then two hands are at your wrists, tugging your hands away from your face. “Just say it as it is.” Shaw’s voice is teasing, and you can’t bear to open your eyes. You desperately just want the entire ground to open up and swallow you whole. His breath is hot against the shell of your ear. “D, I, C, K-”

“Stop!” You squeal in embarrassment, and he pulls you over until you’re barely holding yourself over him by the arms. You’re sure you’re about to spontaneously combust. “Shaw! Go! And! Put! On! Something! Right Now!”

He chuckles. “I’m wearing boxers.”

“That’s not clothes!” You squeak, beating at his chest with your fist, frantic. Your heart is hammering in your ears. “Boxers are underwear, not-”

A sudden, loud noise interrupts you in the middle of your sentence, and your eyes fly open to see him with both hands clamped over his mouth, trying to suppress his coughs. “Shaw?” It’s only then that you notice the dark shadows under his eyes, how pallid his complexion is. “You’re sick!”

“Just a little under the weather.” His voice is raspy, and he shudders a little as he takes a breath. Frowning in concern, you pull his head close to yours - missing the look of surprise that flits across his face - and touch his forehead to yours, brow furrowed.

He’s unbearably warm, and you can see a thin sheen of cold sweat on his skin. Definitely sick.

“You’re burning up!” You exclaim in concern, hurrying to tuck Shaw back under the blankets. He’s still wearing his usual casual, carefree grin, golden eyes glazed over with fever as he stares up at you. “Are you saying I’m hot?”

“Now is not the time for your jokes.” You scold, moving over to the kitchen area, pulling out a handkerchief from your bag and running it under cold water from the tap. Should you get him a glass of water too? “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? You could have just cancelled today.”

Shaw lets out a defeated sigh as you turn around to eye him, one hand on your hip. His cheeks are flushed from the fever. “’m sorry.”

“Here, drink some water.” You step over to him, lifting the cup to his lips and he swallows greedily without protest, fingers latching around your wrist to keep your hand steady. You don’t know whether it’s from the fever, but your skin burns at his touch. “Why didn’t you keep yourself hydrated? You need to drink water to cool off.”

“Couldn’t get out of bed earlier.” Shaw answers matter of factly, slumping back on the mattress as if it’s no big deal to him. Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest as you wonder how long he’s had to deal with these sorts of situations alone.

Part of you wants to scold him for not relying on you more, but another part understands - he’s been independent since he was a child, and it’s hard for him to break old habits. Pressing your lips together, you place the wet towel on his forehead with renewed determination - you’re going to show him that he can rely on you.

“I’m going to take your temperature, do you have a thermometer? You could be running quite a high fever.” You ask, brushing his hair out of his eyes. Seemingly unconcerned, Shaw lets out an exaggerated sigh, cracking open one eye to look at you. “Ahh, and they said you could only see pretty nurses in a hospital. Think you could get a uniform to go with it?”

Your face goes flat. This little bastard... “How about I break something of yours and send you to the hospital in an ambulance right now?”

“Ooh, feisty. I like that.” Shaw chuckles, eyes slipping shut again. You stare at him for a moment longer and shake your head, moving over to the kitchen area once more. Now, if you were Shaw, where would you hide medicine?

“There’s no point looking for medicine, I don’t have anything but painkillers.” Shaw’s lazy voice shatters your contemplation over his cupboards. You glance at him, mouth pulled into a frown. “What do you mean, you don’t have anything but painkillers?”

Shaw raises an eyebrow from the bed, easing up so that he can watch you. You don’t think he knows how vulnerable he looks right now, a faint, half smile tugging at his lips and eyes hazy from the sickness. “I mean it. There’s nothing.”

“What about paracetamol?”

“Nope.”

“Cough syrup?”

“Expired a few years back.” Shaw shrugs, as if it’s completely normal. You stare at him for a moment longer, before you lift your own fingers to your temples, rubbing them in an attempt to ward off the headache you can already feel coming. How can one person be so bad at taking care of themselves? “Shaw, you have nothing.”

A laugh leaves him. “That’s what I said.”

That’s it. “You’re hopeless,” you declare, rooting about your bag for your purse. “I’m going to the pharmacist before you die from a cold-”

“You’re leaving?” The words are said so quickly that you’re a little startled, and when you look over at him, he’s staring at you with an oddly vulnerable expression that you’ve never seen on him before.

“Yeah, to the pharmacist.” You say, moving over to sit at his side, running your fingers through his bleached hair. His eyes slip shut at your touch, and perhaps subconsciously, takes your hand with his own to press it to his heated cheek. “Ahh, this feels good. Don’t go.”

You’ve never quite seen him like this before, so much more demanding with your affections that he almost reminds you of a child wanting to be spoiled rotten with attention. A tiny smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, bottled emotion swirling in your chest. “I need to get medicine because a certain idiot man doesn’t know how to take care himself.”

“Forget about him.” Shaw mutters, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your side. You gasp, a little ticklish at his feverish heat, and feel Shaw’s grin against your skin. “Just stay here. The pharmacist is too damned far.”

“It’s a fifteen minute walk, Shaw.”

“Exactly. Too long.” Shaw complains, sucking at a spot a little over your hip and giving you a tiny nip. You yelp, tugging at his ear and he laughs. His lips are so chapped. “We can have so much more fun in that time-”

You stuff a pillow over his face. “No. You need rest.”

Shaw grumbles, but gives up when he sees the unyielding stare you’re leveling at him. “Fine, fine. Abandon this poor, sick man or whatever, you heartless woman.” You laugh at the put out expression on his face.

“I’ll be back soon enough. You need to sleep, however.” You try to pry his hands away from your waist, but sick Shaw is still miles stronger than you will ever be. “Oh, come on, you’re not going to get better if you don’t rest!”

“I want to rest like this.” Shaw fires back, plaintively locking his arms around and pillowing his head in your lap. His golden eyes squint up at you from below, a weak grin pulling at the side of his lips. “You’re supposed to be making me feel better, right?”

You eye him for a good second before a fond, exasperated sigh escapes your lips. “Fine, if you insist.” You begin combing through his hair, bleached strands slipping between your fingers

A mischievous glint sparkles in his eyes. “So, does that mean that we can-”

“Another word from you and I’m going,” you warn, a chuckle pulling itself from the back of his throat in response. Surprisingly, he doesn’t say another word and instead closes his eyes, tucking his face against your side, each breath coming out uneven and labored.

Just how sick is he, you wonder, tugging your lip between your teeth as you look down at his head in your lap. It doesn’t take long for Shaw to slip back into sleep’s hold, breathing evening out slightly and mouth slipping open slightly. You down at him for a moment, tracing his features with a finger, and finally pressing your thumb against his bottom lip gently. He doesn’t stir in the least, well and truly asleep.

Fondness tugs at your heartstrings. You lean down to press a kiss to his brow, smoothing his hair back.

“I’ll be back soon.” You mouth tenderly into his hair. Cradling his head in your hands, you gently shift it off your lap and onto a pillow instead, making to rise to your feet. Before you can, however, something latches around your wrist, and you look back to see Shaw grasping your hand tight with his own.

“I thought you were asleep-” You begin to protest, but when you look at Shaw’s face, you realise that he’s still completely lost to dreamland. His fingers curl around your hand involuntarily, an incoherent mumble leaving his lips.

It sounds like ‘don’t go’.

Looking up, you see Sharky tossed to the side of the mattress, awkwardly balancing on the tip of its nose and its tail propped up on a pillow. From this angle, the smile it usually wears has been upturned into a frown. Look at how he’s treating me, it seems to be protesting. A little laugh leaves your lips, and you reach over to rescue it. “I know you love him, Sharky, so don’t give me that look. Both of you have the same smiles, after all.”

You put the shark plush in his arms and Shaw finally shifts a little, wrapping his arms around the toy and letting go of your hand. Free at last, you rise to your feet and poke Sharky on the tip of the nose. “Take care of him until I get back, okay?”

Sharky doesn’t reply as usual, but you know he’s reluctantly agreeing. You cast your glance on Shaw, a gentle smile tugging at your mouth.

“Don’t worry.” You say, dropping a kiss to his temple. He doesn’t stir. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

>>>

There’s the sound of humming.

Shaw stirs slightly, half dangling between a shadowy world of dreams and reality, feeling more well rested than he has in ages. Strained notes of the familiar song drift past his ears, along with the sound of steam escaping a pot. His limbs and eyelids are heavy with sleep, tempting to draw him under once again, but he forces his eyes open, turning onto his side where the noise is coming from.

You’re standing at the stove, dressed in one of his old band tees and shorts, both far too big for you and hair thrown up in a quick bun, tendrils and wisps escaping to frame your face. There’s a pot sitting on the fire, and you stir it with a wooden spoon a few times before lifting it to your lips to taste it.

Shaw watches as a small smile of satisfaction spreads across your face, and you cover the pot with a lid once more, turning to wash up in the sink.

For some reason, he can’t take his eyes off your back as you continue humming to yourself. There’s a lump in his throat, a throbbing in his chest that he can’t blame on the fever - it aches, burns. Shaw feels full, so damned full, as if a gaping hole in him that’s been around since forever has finally been filled.

You look like you’re comfortable in his clothes, standing barefoot in his home and messing around in his kitchen. You fit seamlessly into his house, as if you were meant to be there from the very beginning.

Your name leaves his lips before he knows what he’s doing.

You whirl around and he sees varying stages of surprise playing over your face, expressions he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of. Then, almost in strikingly slow motion, your eyes brighten when you see him, your lips pull up in a smile, and your entire face takes on a vibrant air - as if you’re happy just seeing him awake.

“Shaw!” You say his name, hurrying over with a wet towel, wiping your hands on the shirt you’re wearing, his shirt. He can’t help but throw a hand over his face at the sight, an emotion too dangerously close to happiness bubbling at the back of his throat. He must still be out of it from the fever. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just-” He runs a tongue over his lips, feeling cracked and dry skin there. “Just need some water.”

“Wait a second.” Holding out the fresh towel, you gently dab at his face and mouth, before moving to wipe down his torso. He shivers a little at the chill, but then you cover him with the blanket once again, tucking him in. “I’ll get you a cup of water and some porridge, okay? You should eat something since you’ve been sleeping the entire day without any food. That can’t be good for you. After you’ve eaten that, you can take the medicine.”

Shaw groans as he looks up through the skylights, rubbing at his eyes. “... what time is it?”

“Early evening! You slept through most of the afternoon, but I managed to get some water and paracetamol into you when I got back from the pharmacist’s.” You call from the kitchen, ladling porridge into a small bowl for him. Shaw fixes his eyes on the sight, trying to commit it into memory. “You were quite out of it, so you might not remember anything. Do you feel better now?”

“Yeah.” Shaw cranes his head, stretching out his arms. When he sits up, his head isn’t spinning any more, and the nausea in his stomach seems to have subsided. “When did you put on my shirt? More importantly, why wasn’t I awake to see it?”

“My dress was getting uncomfortable, so I stole some of your clothes that were lying around. I hope you don’t mind.” You step over with a tray of porridge and a glass of clear water, sitting at his bedside and holding out a spoon to him. He doesn’t mind, quite the opposite, in fact. “Here, eat up. I’m no cook like Victor, but-”

“Feed me.”

Your eyes widen near comically at his words and Shaw lets out a short bark of laughter. And then you’re stuttering, a pink blush high on your cheeks as you try to find the words to deny him.

“Shaw!”

“What, you won’t help an ill person out? My arms are so weak they won’t even stay up, look.” He dramatically tosses his arms into the air before they fall back into his lap. “I’ll drop the spoon and make a mess all over the bed, so you need to feed me.”

You shake your head once, clearly aware that he’s teasing you. “You’re so annoying.” Still, you lift a spoon of porridge to his lips, turning your face away, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. “Here.”

Shaw does his best to restrain his laughter, leaning back against the wall to take in your expression, the shade of pink staining your face deepening into a rosy blush. “It’s too hot to eat. Blow on it for me.”

This time, you do gape at his shamelessness for a full five seconds before you regain your senses, sputtering furiously. “Shaw!”

The chuckles finally spill forth from his chest, nearly bringing tears to his eyes. Your face turns even redder at his clear amusement, and you reach out to pull at his ear painfully. “Stop laughing at me!”

“Ow, ow, okay.” Shaw can’t seem to stop snickering, and you puff out your cheeks at him. He lifts a hand to flick your nose. “When you react like that, who can resist teasing you a little?”

You scowl at him, but raise the spoon to your lips anyway to cool it down before holding it to his mouth. “Say ahh.” You still sound like you’re sulking.

Shaw opens his mouth obediently this time, amber eyes fixed on you with each bite he takes. The porridge is a little bland since he can’t smell it, but the fact that you’re feeding him makes each bite far more enjoyable than if he were alone eating alone.

He finishes the entire bowl in a matter of minutes, and doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up when he asks for seconds. Stomach finally satiated, he lies back down and watches peacefully as you clean up the kitchen, the light of the setting sun casting you in its soft, orange glow.

Shaw turns to the side to see Sharky lying on its side, looking at him. See? That wasn’t so scary, was it now? She’s going to accept you no matter what, and she isn’t going to leave. You can stop being so cautious now.

He grunts, eyes narrowing as he stares suspiciously at the toy shark. “I didn’t ask for your opinion. Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Your voice comes from behind him, and Shaw rolls over to see you walking over. You press the back of your hand to his forehead, your skin cool to the touch. “Still a little feverish, but you should feel better soon.”

“If I stay sick longer, will you take care of me then?” The words leave his mouth before he can think them through, and you still at his bedside, eyes widening. Ah fuck, too emotional. He tries to play it off, donning his usual casual grin and raising a hand to ruffle your hair. “You know you love me too much to watch me languish in pain alone, yeah?”

Your answer is something he doesn’t see coming.

“Of course.” You bite down on your bottom lip, looking fairly upset and Shaw is caught off guard in an instant. Earnestly, you grab his hands, squeezing them gently. They’re so small and smooth compared to his. “Next time you get sick, just tell me. I want to be there with you, I want to take care of you, and I want to do it for a long, long time. So don’t be alone anymore, okay?”

Shaw stays silent for a long time, staring up into your eyes. They’re thoughtful and serious, not the slightest hint of humor or playfulness in them. A short bark of laughter leaves him, and he hates how scratchy his voice sounds. It’s all the sickness’ fault. “Damn, I could kiss you right now.” The warmth of your hands around his is something he never wants to let go.

“You can’t.” You scold instantly, moving to pull away from him. “You’re sick, and if you kiss me all those germs will definitely get into me, then I’ll get sick and you’ll have to take care of me-”

Shaw pulls you forward by the arm, and you tumble into his lap, faces dangerously close to each other. He can count every eyelash brushing your cheeks, see the way your pupils waver and dilate as they struggle between meeting his eyes and looking away. “Shaw, this is not what a sick person should be doing-”

“You’re so noisy.” Shaw comments, putting one hand over your mouth. You make muffled noises of complaint against his palm, but then Shaw leans in, so close that he can feel stray strands of your hair tickling his face, and presses his lips against the back of his hand.

The distance of a few centimetres suddenly feels all too far, and Shaw lets out a disappointed sigh, knocking your foreheads together. He hears your yelp, and stifles a chuckle in his throat.

With mild amusement, he watches as your eyes flicker open, stunned, before he pulls away. “That’ll have to do for now.” Shaw loves, no, lives, for your reactions to his teasing. He could watch them for hours and never get bored.

You sulk, pressing your hands against your reddened cheeks. “You’re awful. For a second, I thought you were actually about to kiss me!”

“Oh? You sound disappointed.” Shaw laughs, and you scramble to deny it at once. He watches you as you rant, completely unaware of the small, contented smile he’s wearing on his face.

He can see your dress thrown over the back of one of his chairs. Your heels lie next to his motorcycle boots at the door. You’re dressed in his shirt, scolding him for speaking nonsense, and he’s never felt warmer than he does now.

This sort of life is different, but okay. Shaw likes this kind of different.

A snort leaves his mouth at his own thoughts. He’s tumbling, head over heels, falling face first into the unknown. But it’ll be okay, because he knows you’ll be there with him.

“Are you even listening to me?” You complain, tugging at his arm and eyes clear and honest as they look at him. Maybe one day, he’ll ask you to come move in with him, and then instead of his house, this will become his home. At the thought, Shaw finds himself grinning, and ducks down to drop a playful kiss to your cheek.

It suddenly doesn’t seem so far off, after all.

“Nope.”

#mlqc #mlqc fanfic #mlqc shaw #shaw #mr love queen's choice #mr love queen's choice shaw #ling xiao

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years ago

Text

So Henry, you want to start a YouTube channel? - Chapter 1

Summary: Twenty five year old YouTuber Sandy Choi has no idea that one of her five million subscribers is the one and only Henry Cavill. When he asks her to help him out with starting his own YouTube channel, she falls more and more in love with her. But she should’ve known that dating one of the most desirable bachelors, does come with a prize.

Henry Cavill x Sandy Choi (ofc)

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 3.7k

A/N: If you want to be on the taglist, please let me know xx

Masterlist // Channel introduction // Previous chapter // Next chapter

It is finally done. I somehow finished the final edits of my newest novel. I mean, I love the book with all my heart and I do think that it’s one of the best books I’ve ever written so far, but if I have to read it one more time, I’m going to scream. In about a week, the advanced reader copies will go to the first beta readers. It’s a nerve wrecking part, but it does mean that the moment my book is going to be on the shelves, is one step closer.

To celebrate this glorious event, I decide to go my favorite cafe and edit my next YouTube video. Other people meditate, do yoga or get some exercise in to relax. For me editing is my form of relaxation.

Never in a million years would I have imagined that I would have five million subscribers. Five million people around the globe enjoy watching my vlogs, while I highly doubt I’m that interesting. Sure, I nowadays do photoshoots, some editorials and I still dance quite a lot, but besides that, I’m homebody, who writes a lot and to get out of the house, visits cafes.

I grab my backpack and start packing my laptop, the charger and my AirPods. I’m tempted to bring my Nintendo Switch with me, so I can play some Animal Crossing (I’ve been kind of neglectful of my island, sorry Tom Nook), but I leave my Switch in its charger.

Before I leave my apartment, I take a quick selfie, to upload for my Instagram Stories. It’s just a simple mirror selfie, showing off my outfit. Since it’s pretty hot outside (it’s July tenth and London has been trapped in a very intense heatwave), I opted for some high waisted denim shorts, a simple white crop top and some matching white sneakers. I do bring a white blazer with me, since the cafe usually has its air-conditioning on and I don’t want to freeze to death.

To be honest, before I got famous on YouTube, I never was impressed with my looks, my style or my life really. I had to celebrate my twenty first birthday alone, to realize I was pretty much wasting my life. Because of the weather, my plans to travel back to my family were cancelled and when I was staring at the cupcake with one candle on it, I realized I barely had memories from my time in college and I was already in year two.

I started to document certain moments in my life, but with all the footage I had of one whole week, I could make a two minute video out of it. But everything I filmed, had to be extravagant and then I asked myself: why does it have to be extravagant to be important enough to film? I should live my own life like I’m the main character, not a side character. I should romanticize life more. All of the sudden, I began noticing how beautiful the sky would look when I went outside for a walk, how the flowers start to bloom when it’s spring and how cozy certain cafes are.

When I uploaded my first YouTube video, I barely had subscribers, but all of the sudden more than thousand people thought my life was interesting enough to watch and a whole year later, I had 200k subscribers. I always figured that it would stay around that number, but once I graduated, published a book and moved to London, my subscriber count went up with a rapid speed. My 500k subscriber hit was unbelievable, my one million subscriber hit was beyond me, but hitting five million subscribers… It’s weird and thank God I have now reached a certain plateau, because seeing my subscriber count going up with the speed that it went back in the day, scared the living shit out of me.

Once I’m at my favorite cafe, I order a cappuccino and some vanilla cake, before I sit down and get ready for some editing. I used to spend way too much time on editing my videos, but now I finally have found a way to be more efficient.

Time ticks by. I see multiple people leave, I order some ice tea and another soda to keep hydrated and finally I take my AirPods out and put them in their case. I’ve been here for a few hours now and I maybe should leave. I don’t want to overstay my welcome here.

Before I can get up, my phone rings and I pick up when I see it’s Lacey. We met on the plane to London. She went to UCLA, but moved back to England after she was done with school. She told me about what she was going to do in London—becoming a librarian and honestly, that’s a dream—and somehow we hit it off. She was my first and only friend here in London. Of course, through her I met multiple people that I like, but I’m always a bit awkward around them, just like I’m shy around practically anyone I have never met.

‘Hi La—’

‘I have a new fling and he is having a party tonight,’ she simply interrupts me.

‘So much for a hello,’ I chuckle. ‘What fling was this again?’

‘This is the guy I met at the zoo.’ For someone who is a librarian, she meets an awful lot of guys. When I think of a librarian, I think of an older lady with a pencil skirt and grey hair in an updo, but not Lacey, who rocks short skirts like no other. She usually has a new guy every week, but the guy from the zoo… I don’t know if I remember correctly, but I think he is around for more than a week.

‘Hasn’t he been around for like two weeks?’ I ask her.

‘Yes, he is.’

‘And you aren’t tired of him yet?’ I start to pack my bag, while I clutch the phone between my ear and shoulder. ‘What was his name again?’

‘His name is Jackson and he is such a handsome guy, so you want to join us for the party? You can say no, Sandy, because this guy has parties every other week.’

‘I just finished my deadline for the new book,’ I say. ‘I think I just want to chill at home, to be honest.’

‘Totally understand. You are one a hard working woman and I know that parties can be pretty stressful for you.’ I can hear her smile through her voice. ‘I’m really proud of you for finishing that book, always remember that.’

‘Thanks, Lacey. Say hi to Jackson from me and tell him I’ll meet him soon. If he is still around then, of course.’

Lacey starts to laugh. ‘Oh, this one will be still around. I really like this guy and every morning, he sends me a good morning text, including a bad joke.’

‘That is oddly adorable.’ I wave to the barista’s as I leave the cafe. Shit, it’s hot. Like I’m stepping into an oven. Thank God I packed my white bucket hat and I put it on, to prevent my dark hair from frying my brain.

‘It is. Oh, he is calling me. Love you, doll.’

‘Love you too. Have fun tonight.’ I hang up the phone, while I move slowly through the streets of London. I’ve never really been a party type. For me it’s always a chore, never a pleasant event.

Being heavily introverted as I am, I enjoy my time reading on the couch, being by myself. Sometimes I wished I had an animal to keep me company, but my landlord is an asshole and prohibits any sort of pet. Maybe one day I can finally move out here, find myself a better place and become happy there with a nice dog.

Maybe tonight I can film my newly updated evening routine. I haven’t done that in ages and a lot has changed since the last time I did it. For a second I’m doubting my earlier decision of not going to the party with Lacey, but I shake off that thought.

Tonight I’m staying home.

As usual.

⟢⟡⟣

Who needs an alarm, when the sun can wake you up, nearly blinding you in the process? I roll around in my bed and am about to drift away again, continuing the beautiful dream of me being wrapped in Henry Cavill’s thick arms on this Sunday morning, when my phone rings.

Groaning I push myself up, grabbing my phone from the nightstand. I sigh deeply when I see it’s Lacey who video calls me. ‘Why on earth do you want to video chat with me?’ I ask her with a sleepy voice, still groggy from just waking up. I rub my eyes, hoping that that will wake me up. After I filmed my summer night routine, I fell fast asleep and when I look at my alarm clock, I slept a whole nine hours.

Well done, Sandy.

‘I have been trying to call you since five a.m.. Why aren’t you picking up your phone?’ Lacey asks impatiently, looking genuinely annoyed.

‘Sometimes I wonder if you even hear yourself. I was asleep at five a.m., as a normal person does.’

Lacey rolls her big doll like eyes. She actually looks like those porcelain dolls, the same ones that my creepy neighbor back home collected and put on display for the entire neighborhood to see. Blonde curls bounce around her face and for someone who partied the entire night, she actually looks really good and is way too awake. ‘I have a story for you and normally I don’t want to talk you into feeling guilty, but for this occasion I’ll make an exception.’

‘That doesn’t explain why you want to video chat with me.’

‘Just wait.’

I sit up straight in bed, placing a pillow against my back, so I can lean against the headboard. I pull my knees up to my chest, to lean my arm on. ‘Tell me, Lacey, what happened?’

‘So, I arrived at the party around eleven and Jackson was waiting for me at the door. He was being a true gentleman, kissed my cheek and when we walked inside, he kept introducing me to people, saying how at the end of the night, I was going to be his girl. To spoil the end for you: I am his girl now and we had steamy sex back at his place.’

As fantastic as that may sound for her, why does she the need to share this with me? I mean, I am happy for her that this Jackson guy is a nice guy and if she is actually going to date him, that’s great, but I don’t want to hear it. It’ll make me feel even more single.

‘Anyways, while Jackson is introducing me, I feel someone is staring at me. So I look around me, only to find one guy watching me. I try to squint you know, to see who that guy is and I think to myself: wow, that guy looks an awful lot like Henry Cavill.’

I start to chuckle. ‘How much did you have to drink at that moment?’

‘None, totally sober. Jackson pulls me with him and eventually introduces me to his friend Henry Cavill.’

Oh my God, I think I forgot how to breath. ‘You are telling me that the guy who you met at the zoo, who is probably more than just a fling to you and threw a party last night, is friends with the Henry Cavill?’

‘The same Henry Cavill you refuse to follow on Instagram, because you can’t handle that much gorgeousness on your feed.’

No need to attack me like that, I think to myself. I just woke up and was hit with the realization that I could’ve met Henry Cavill last night, but I didn’t want to go to a party. Tip for next time: always say yes when this Jackson guy is throwing a party.

‘Moving on with the story, Henry—yes, I’m on a first name basis with him—kept gawking at me and finally he asked me if we knew each other. I shrugged, telling him how I’m just a simple librarian, that usually doesn’t mingle with hot celebrities. Later on, I don’t know how exactly Jackson, Henry and I got to that topic, but I casually said something along the lines of that I’m friends with the Sandy Choi. Henry nearly loses all the color in his face and Jackson starts to laugh his ass off.’

Where is this story going? What the hell is going on?

Lacey starts to laugh out loud and manages to add: ‘Jackson tells me that mister Henry Cavill is a huge fan of yours and literally drops everything whenever you post a new video and how he had an almost heart attack when you mentioned him in your July first vlog. According to Jackson, he has been questioning your comment saying that you haven’t had your fair share of Henry Cavill today ever since.’

This isn’t happening. This honestly can’t be happening right now. Lacey is totally messing with me. ‘Sure.’

‘I can see you are questioning my fantastic story, so let me show you this then.’ She shares her screen with me and shows me a picture of her, this Jackson fella and Henry fucking Cavill, looking insanely handsome as he usually does. His hair is slightly growing out, revealing some lovely curls of his and he is wearing a white blouse. The buttons are hanging on for dear life. I’m mentally kicking myself. Why didn’t I go to this party? I mean, I would’ve probably embarrassed myself, but still: I could’ve admired him from a far. In real life.

Lacey stops sharing her screen with me and smiles widely in the camera. ‘And Jackson mentioned something about pressuring him into following you on Instagram and sliding into your DM’s, but mister Cavill is petrified of doing such thing, so… I decided to give him your number and I think he already texted you.’

I swipe the video chat away, while I start looking through my Whatsapp chats. I see I have some messages from my manager, my editor, my dad and an unknown number.

‘Did he text you?’

I click on the chat, ignore what it says and press on his profile picture. ‘It’s him,’ I say. ‘It’s really him.’ I admire the photo for a second. His thick and strong arms wrapped around his dog. God, I was dreaming about something like that just minutes ago and now all of the sudden, he has my number?

‘What did he write?’

I check the chat and see that the man wrote a paragraph, instead of multiple tiny texts. That is absolutely adorable.

‘I can see you and your grin,’ Lacey says, reminding me that I might’ve swiped away the video chat, she can indeed still see me. ‘Come on, Sandy, read it to me. I deserve to know what he wrote, since I’m the reason he has your number and texted you in the first place.’

She has a valid point and to be fair, I’d probably share it with her anyways. Best to do it now. ‘Hi Sandy, I swear I’m not a creepy stalker. I’m Henry Cavill and I met your friend Lacey at the party last night. She was kind enough to give me your number. I have no idea what she told you about last night, but I just wanted to let you know that your vlogs really help me to get through my days and that you are truly an inspiration to all young people out there.’

‘This is legit the cutest thing that has ever happened!’ Lacey squeals.

Though I agree, I keep staring at the text. This is what he thinks of me? He thinks I’m an inspiration to all young people out there? My videos help him through his day? ‘I’m going to hang up,’ I say to Lacey, ‘and figure out what to text him back.’

‘Wait,’ she says, ‘you’re not going to tell me what you texted back to Henry fucking Cavill?’

I pull up our video conversation again and shake my head. ‘No, I’m not. Thank you for giving him my number, Lacey, but please don’t make a habit out of it. Thank you. Love you. Bye.’

Before I can hear what she has to say, I hang up on her and look at his text again. My heartbeat is finally normalizing again, though my palms are still sweaty. I need to text him back, because that is a polite thing to do.

But what do I text back to a man like him, especially after he told me such a nice and lovely things? I mean, how do I top that? I can tell him the things I told Lacey whenever we would watch something that he starred in. I could say that I thought he was hot in the Witcher or that they should’ve included shirtless scenes of him in Mission Impossible. I could—

Oh my God, he is online!

I nearly die of panic, throwing my phone away from me on the bed. Maybe hanging up on Lacey was the dumbest thing I could’ve done. I need her help. She knows what she could say to him.

Lord knows how long I’m thinking about a response and I know that I should text him back. I finally wrote something and before I can regret it, I press send.

Sandy: Hi, Lacey indeed told me about last night. I honestly can’t believe that you watch my vlogs and that they help you get through your days. Hearing kind words like these from any subscriber honestly means the world to me 😊

And now we wait. He wasn’t online when I pressed send, so I probably won’t get an answer from him any ti—

Ping.

He already answered? Oh no, no, no, I have to let this moment sink in for a second. He can’t already texted me back. Please, let this be my mother, telling me I need to take my cod liver oil, please let this be her.

Henry Cavill: Do I want to know what she told you?

This sounds cheeky, I can handle cheeky. I can answer to this. I’m an adult woman, who is just texting with someone who is a fan. I can handle fan encounters.

Sort of.

Besides, I can think about the right response, so this is only in my advantage.

Sandy: Just that you are a big fan of my vlogs and drop everything when I post a new video.

Henry Cavill: Right, that’s not too bad, I guess.

Sandy: And that according to your friend Jackson, you almost had a heart attack when I mentioned you in my vlog and you have been questioning my fair share of Henry Cavill of today comment.

Henry Cavill: Great…

Sandy: It’s kind of flattering to be totally honest with you.

Henry Cavill: I’m just dying of embarrassment, give me a minute.

I can’t help but to chuckle. It’s weird, that I’m actually talking to Henry Cavill right now. Who would’ve ever thought that that would happen to me? I decide not to share the Instagram and sliding into my DM’s story that Lacey shared with me.

Sandy: I hope that Lacey haven’t told any embarrassing stories about me.

Henry Cavill: Just that you went to Mission Impossible: Fall Out three times in the cinema and that you commented all those three times that there wasn’t enough of me in it.

Okay, now it’s my turn to die of embarrassment. I feel like he is sparing me the need to fall into a deep hole of embarrassment, since he doesn’t mention Lacey adding to it that there wasn’t enough ass and the lack of shirtlessness on his part, because I said that all those three times as well. I know my friend and I know that she told him that.

Sandy: Right… I’m sorry.

Henry Cavill: It was pretty flattering and good for my ego 😉

⟢⟡⟣

Henry—yes I’m on a first name basis with him now as well, but I have yet to change his name in my phone—and his texts have caused tiny disasters around my apartment.

I burned my pancakes, because he kept distracting me with texts, causing the fire alarm to go off. Because I wanted to shut the thing up, I had to stand on a chair, but my brain was still with those texts, so I nearly broke my neck when I fell off it.

While I was filling the kettle with water, I forgot the tap was still running, causing the thing to overflow with water. I stubbed my toe not once, not twice, but three times on the same table leg.

But despite that, talking to Henry has been such a nice thing all morning and the first half of the afternoon. He keeps on complimenting me on my editing, saying what his favorite moments are in my vlogs, while I on my term share about the favorite moments of his interviews, his movies. It’s obvious that we are fans of one another, so having it out in the open, doesn’t feel weird or uncomfortable.

But nothing prepares me for his latest text.

Henry Cavill: I’m going out for a walk with Kal, since it’s cooling down now. You want to join us?

I know I should answer him and I should answer him now, but I keep pacing around my living room. Going out with him on a walk, means talking to him. Like using my vocal cords to communicate with him, talking to him. Am I ready for that? What if I disappoint? I’m probably going to disappoint.

I take a deep breath. You didn’t went to the party last night, so you should go now, Sandy, I tell myself. You can do it. He is inviting you, meaning he wants to hang out with you. That is a good sign.

Sandy: Sure, I just need to get ready. I think I’m ready in about thirty minutes.

Henry Cavill: I’ll share my location, so you know where to go to, okay?

Taglist: @flhorah // @henrythickcavill // @toomanystoriessolittletime

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #so henry you want to start a youtube channel #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill x sandy choi

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pun-master-logan · 4 years ago

Text

Dukexiety Day 4: Coffee (Shop)

“So, you come here often?”

Virgil stared at the barista dumbly. “Three times a week. You’re usually the one serving me.”

“I know, I meant...” The barista stumbled over his words. “One small black coffee, decaf, no sugar, no cream, or will you be changing it up today?”

“The usual is fine,” Virgil said, pulling exact change from his pocket before the barista had a chance to tell him.

“Your coffee will be ready shortly,” the barista said.

Virgil stood off the the side and waited.

“Virgil,” The barista called out. Virgil looked over at him. “Here’s your co-wah!”

The barista tripped, sending the coffee flying over the counter, spraying Virgil on the way down.

“I am so sorry, I’ll get you another one right away.”

Virgil walked over to the napkins to wipe the coffee off of him. As he dabbed it off his black jeans, a man, who Virgil mistook as the barista at first, walked over.

“On a scale from, he’s kinda annoying, but I don’t really care to I’d love to ruin his day, how do you feel about the barista?”

“What?”

“The name’s Remus,” he said sticking out his hand. Virgil gestured to the fact his hands were full of napkins and Remus dropped the hand. “That barista who spilled coffee on you, he’s my brother, Roman. And, I don’t know how dense you are, but he has a massive crush on you.”

“I’m aware,” Virgil said as he continued to dab his jeans. “Are you here to access the damage or something, because coffee spill or not, I’m not going out with him.”

“Definitely not. I’m here to ruin his day and me getting your number after completely blowing his chances with you would be the pickle on top.”

“Pickle?”

“Yeah, you know, the pickle on top of a sundae, the thing that makes it complete.”

Virgil looked at Remus with disgust, but then he looked over at Roman, who was bringing over the new coffee. He didn’t really want to ruin the guy’s day, but at the same time, he never stopped flirting, which got on Virgil’s nerves. Maybe giving his number to the brother would shut him up.

“I’m won’t give you my real number,” Virgil said.

“I wasn’t planning on calling you anyways,” Remus said.

Virgil pulled a pen out of his backpack and grabbed a napkin. “Here.”

Remus took the napkin with a smile as his brother walked over to them.

“Thanks, I’ll be sure to call you some time,” Remus said.

“What?” Roman said, the new coffee slipping from his hands. He cursed under his breath as it went everywhere.

“You know what, I don’t need coffee today,” Virgil said.

He walked passed the brothers and out the door.

“You didn’t seriously get his number, did you?” Roman said.

Remus flashed the napkin at him. “What can I say, we just hit it off.”

***

“I totally creeped out the dude whose number you gave me,” Remus told Virgil as he walked through the door. He stood next to Virgil as he got in line.

“You called the number?”

“Yeah, why not? Some dude named Thomas answered. He was like where did you get this number and I was like you’ll find out soon enough.” Remus broke out in laughter.

“Remus,” a barista called out.

“Oh yeah, you don’t have to stand in line, I got us drinks,” Remus said.

“How do you know what I like?” Virgil asked.

“My brother told me, he’s told me a lot about you.” Remus grabbed the two coffees from the barista and handed one to Virgil.

“Really?” Virgil said, taking a sip. He spit it out immediately. “Oh my God! That’s disgusting.”

Remus looked at Virgil strangely, taking a sip of his own coffee. “Oh, I gave you mine, my bad.”

He switched the coffees.

“What was that?”

“Black coffee with salt,” Remus said.

“What is wrong with you?” Virgil said, taking a sip of his actual coffee in an attempt to get rid of the taste.

“How long you got?”

***

Virgil and Remus fell into a habit of buying each other coffee whenever they saw each other at the coffee shop, which ended up being often. Remus seemed to be at the coffee shop almost everyday, which was strange because Virgil had never seen him before he had coffee spilled on himself.

“How come you’re here so often?” Virgil asked one day.

“My brother works here, he gives me the family discount,” Remus said, taking a sip of the coffee Virgil bought him.

“Roman has worked here for like two years now, you’ve only been coming here for a couple weeks,” Virgil said.

“I’ve been traveling,” Remus said.

“Really? Where?”

***

“He’s been to like twenty different countries, Pat, and he speaks three languages. Three!” Virgil said, taking one of Patton’s freshly made cookies off the plate between them.

“Sounds like a cool guy,” Patton said.

“He is.” Virgil took a bite of his cookie. “He’s an archaeologist, that’s why he gets to travel so much I guess. He was telling me about some of his digs, you wouldn’t believe some of the stuff he’s seen.”

“So when’s your next date?”

Virgil choked on his cookie. “Date?”

“Yeah.”

“We aren’t dating,” Virgil said.

“Maybe you should, it sounds like you like him a lot,” Patton said.

“I do, but not...I mean...We aren’t...”

“Your nervous, that’s okay. Crushes make a lot of people nervous.”

“I don’t I like him like that, at least, I don’t think...”

Did Virgil have a crush on Remus? They had hung out nearly everyday for the past two months. They had started branching out from the coffee shop, walks in the park, a couple movies, they’d gone out for lunch and dinner a few times, they even went to the beach once.

Virgil had had crushes before, this felt different. Maybe it was because he was older, crushes didn’t affect him the way they use to. Maybe he did have a crush on Remus. No way. Then again...

“I got to go,” Virgil said. He needed air, everything felt strangely confusing.

“Already,” Patton said. “Do you at least want a cookie for the road?”

“See ya,” Virgil said, walking out the door, not processing any of Patton’s words.

***

It was uncomfortable hanging around Remus after that. Every time Virgil saw him, he had to reevaluate his feelings for him, which always ended up leaving him exhausted and more confused.

Virgil brought it up with other friends, they all seemed to think the same thing, he had a crush on Remus. But why was he fighting it so much?

“Earth to Virgil,” Remus said, waving hand in front of Virgil’s face, pulling Virgil back into the here and now. They were at the coffee shop, about ten minutes to closing with plans to go see a movie.

“What?” Virgil asked.

“Lost ya there for a sec, you were staring off,” Remus said. “You’ve been off for a while now, is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said as he nervously tapped his fingers. “No.”

“What’s wrong?” Remus asked.

“I like you.”

“You’re right, that is a problem.”

“Shut up,” Virgil said.

Remus laughed. “Sorry, go on.”

“I like you, and you’re on my mind, a lot. I talked about you to my other friends, a lot. I feel happy being around you-”

“Not hearing the bad part.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “What I’m trying to say is I have a crush on you I guess.”

“No you don’t,” Remus said.

“Why do you say that?” Virgil asked.

“No one says I guess if they really have a crush on you.”

“It’s weird, that’s all. Everyone says it’s a crush, and when I think about it, it does sound like a crush, it just feels different, I don’t know.”

“Different like a squish?” Remus asked.

“A what?”

“A squish, a platonic crush I guess you could say.” Remus took a sip of his coffee. “If we’re talking talking feelings, I should say, I’ve had a squish on you for a while.”

Virgil blushed a bit at Remus’ words. “So we can stay friends, no dating?”

“No dating, however, I did want to ask you something.” Remus looked nervous. “I’ve been wanting to ask and this seems like as good a time as any. Would you maybe want to be partners, like queerplatonic partners?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you can say no, it’s fine-”

“No, I mean yes, I mean...sure, I’ll be your partner.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

***

I take constructive criticism

@dukexietyweek

#sanders sides #dukexiety #remus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #human au #au #coffee shop au #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfic #pun's fic #dukexietyweek2020

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morepeachyogurt · 4 years ago

Text

a sky full of stars (and she was looking at her)

Word Count- 2.8k

Pairing- Penemily

Summary- Penemily highschool au where they are paired up on a English assignment! Based on this post.

Part 1 of my, maybe we’re from the same star, series

Read it here on ao3

Tw’s- very small mentions of substances, minor swearing

A/N- this is the first installment of a series based on my yearning posts, and my first time writing romance/3rd pov, I’d love some feedback!

It’s hard to miss Penelope Garcia. With her bright clothes and brighter personally it seems like the sun shines a spotlight on her. Her golden hair is like a halo around her, she looks like an angel, and perhaps one of these days Emily will get the courage to talk to her beyond small talk and group presentations. She’s pulled out of her thoughts when the shrill bell rings, too loudly for her tastes but this whole building seems to scream at her, so perhaps it’s fitting.

Ms. Blake starts to talk about ancient poetry. The greats from the time periods before everything got so complicated. English is not Emily’s favorite class but somehow Blake’s class is more or less interesting, is it because she’s a milf? Maybe, who’s to say. As the class nears its end, she announces, “Alright, as we close out our poetry unit, we have one last assignment that hopefully at least one of you will enjoy, it’s a group project where-” immediately two hands go up ready to ask the question that always gets asked when a group project is announced. “Before you ask, no, you aren’t picking your partners, I am,” a collective groan comes out of about half the class. Emily isn’t too mad about it though, she doesn’t have many friends, especially in honors English. JJ barely passes English as it is. She’s all alone here, so she’s glad she doesn’t have to suffer through the awkwardness of trying to find a partner before everyone else does and ending up with the one kid who she’s pretty sure has been high the entire year and likes to leer at her in the hallway. “For this assignment, you’ll have to analyze one famous poem, from whatever time period you’d like, and write an essay about the poet’s intentions. If you’d like extra credit, which I know for a fact some of you need, you can do a reading of the poem in front of the class or do a drawing that represents it. Any questions?”

The classroom fills with questions of ‘when is this due?’ And ‘this sucks do we have to do this’. Emily however, is distracted by one very colorful girl in the upper left corner of the room, her spot in the back lets her admire the view without being caught, which tends to make it difficult to pay attention, but well, some things are just more fun than others. Her attention is drawn back to Blake when she hears her name followed by Penelope Garcia.

Oh shit.

On the one hand, this is exactly the opportunity she’d been looking for to ‘make her move’ so to speak, on the other, she’s terrified of making a fool of herself. Emily realizes that she’s been sitting for a bit too long when Blake stops talking and the rest of the class has already paired off. She catches Penelope’s eyes and tries to fight the blush of her cheeks. The sound of her docs hitting the linoleum is a bit too intense for this setting, she prefers their ‘clunk’ when it’s a crowded room, and she can walk like she owns the place. Emily sits down at the desk adjacent to Penelope and gets ready to ruin her chances with her.

“Okay! Hi! I’m Penelope! Which you already knew because Ms. Blake announced it, but it’s polite to introduce yourself to people so I thought I would do that now which I’ve done so I’ll stop talking now!”

Emily can’t help but giggle a little at her rambling, she doesn’t want her to stop talking quite yet, her voice melodic to her ears.

“So, I’m not big in poetry, I’m more of a comic book gal if you catch my drift, so I was hoping that you had some thoughts?” She drags the o in hoping and trails off waiting for Emily to fill in the blanks. It takes her a second too long because her brain is short-circuiting but she manages.

“Yeah okay, um, I’ve read some Sappho back when my mother was stationed in Greece? That could work?” she hopes bringing up Sappho wasn’t too obvious of her intentions, but it was all she could think of. Sappho had a point when she said ‘Sweet mother, I cannot weave – slender Aphrodite has overcome me with longing for a girl’

“Yeah okay! Cool! We’ve got like 3 minutes left of class, would you want to go to Bricks and Beans after school to work on it?”

“Uh yeah, yeah, that, um, that sounds great! I’ll meet you in front of the school?”

“Yep!” She pops the ‘p’ and Emily thinks she can’t possibly get cuter.

Emily’s walk to lunch has never been quite this mix of excitement and anxiety as it is now. Hopefully, JJ will be able to make sense of what’s happening because the wires in Emily’s brain are very much twisted.

“Okay, I’m telling you it’s not a date,”

“Yeah I know it’s not technically a date but come on. I personally have never asked my group project partner to a coffee shop before. She obviously likes you.”

Jennifer Jareau has been blessed with the right combination of looks that ensures she never had to wonder if her crushes liked her back. Emily wishes she had that special brand of confidence, but it’s simply not realistic, the number of openly queer girls at school is small, the number of them that would be interested in her? Even smaller.

“Look I’m not going to be the loser that gets my heart broken all right,” she steals a fry off of JJ’s tray before her hand gets smacked.

“Ugh I’m so bored here, promise me you’ll at least try. I need some new drama around here and you two would be so fucking cute.”

“Fine. On the condition that when* it goes south you’re buying me ice cream.”

Emily’s day goes by slowly and all at once. Hours turn into years turn into seconds and before she knows it she’s awkwardly standing outside the building waiting for Penelope to meet her.

When she does, Emily’s pulse quickens ever so slightly in her presence. It’s annoying as hell.

“I was worried you were standing me up,” a futile attempt on Emily’s behalf of trying to seem calm, cool, and collected.

“What! I would never, I’ve been looking forward to getting a macchiato and hanging out with you and Sappho all day! Coolest ladies from recent history,” she has to try and stop herself from getting too excited at Penelope’s words, they don’t mean anything, she’s just some loser that she has to work with to get a good final grade in the class. A means to an end, disposable.

“I don’t think Sappho counts as recent history but thank you, ma’am,” ma’am? God, what is she doing, this is going to go south faster than the time she tried to wear ripped jeans to one of her mother’s stupid dinner parties. To her surprise, her stupid comment is met with a giggle on Penelope’s part.

“Why thank you darling,” she replies in a phony southern accent that makes them both crack up, “Lead the way.”

Bricks and Beans is the staple coffee shop where all the high schoolers hang out after school or work during college. The owners are a sweet old couple in their 70’s who seem to be reliving the past with the vintage decorations. The pair settle into a table in the back, a window next to them showing off the highway. Emily is tasked with buying the coffees and Penelope rattles off her order filled with things Emily’s never even heard of.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure the barista is laughing at me now but here is your sugar coffee with whipped cream,” she says as she slides into her seat, placing down the coffees on the minimal free space left.

“My savior,” she says, fake swooning, “Okay so, Sappho? That’s the lesbian right?”

Emily answers with a snort before actually replying, “Yeah that’s the lesbian. I’m sure Blake will love it. I’m like, 90% sure she’s gay.”

“Single English teacher who loves Oscar Wilde? Yeah, I get it. My gaydar is spectacular by the way.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nods.

“Um, yeah, okay how about this poem:

‘and in your song most of all she rejoiced.

But now she is conspicuous among Lydian women

as sometimes at sunset

the rosyfingered moon

surpasses all the stars. And her light

stretches over salt sea

equally and flowerdeep fields.

And the beautiful dew is poured out

and roses bloom and frail

chervil and flowering sweetclover.

But she goes back and forth remembering

gentle Atthis and in longing

she bites her tender mind’”

“That’s gorgeous,” Penelope had a dreamy look in her eyes, like seeing a beautiful sunset for the first time. Except, instead of a sunset she was looking at Emily, seeing her, like for the first time, “I love when artists talk about the stars,” she leans back on her chair and looks up as if she’s looking at a constellation and not an off-white popcorn ceiling. Her collarbones are exposed and Emily feels like a 17th-century peasant pining over exposed ankles, “There’s just something about the stars ya know? They’re so far away, but sometimes it feels like we’re there with them. They twinkle at us and at each other,” she pauses to make eye contact, “maybe the greatest love story is in the sky,” there’s a beat too long, Emily doesn’t know how to respond to that comment, it’s hard to follow art without ruining it.

“Or maybe I’m just a sad sap for romance.”

“No!” She gets a of couple heads turned her way, the exclamation too loud for the environment, “I mean no, I get what you mean, they’re beautiful. Sometimes at night I go on my roof just to stargaze. It’s so peaceful there,” it’s now or never, “you should do it with me someday.”

“I’d love that,” it’s almost bashful, the two of them hoping the underlying meanings of their words are being shown, lest their hopes not be conveyed and come shattering down like a falling star.

The sun slowly sets as they work on interpreting the inter-workings of Sappho’s mind. The drinks run out so Emily buys them both hot chocolate, extra whipped cream and chocolate chips for Penelope. When she takes a sip, the whipped cream sticks to the side of her face.

“You got some whipped cream on your face,” she gestures to the offender in question. The blonde tries and fails, to get it off.

“Did I get it?”

“No, it’s more,” after some failed attempts, and the failure of Emily’s common sense, she decides to just get it off herself. It feels too intimate too quick, they both freeze, Emily’s hand inches away from Penelope’s face. Their eyes lock, scared brown eyes met soft blue ones and just for a second, there is peace in between their beating hearts and hands. Emily quickly brings her hand down and mumbles an apology.

After three hours they call it a night, Emily now the proud owner of Penelope’s phone number. On her drive home, she wonders if she’d done right, and she wonders if she’d done wrong. If she was clear about what stargazing meant to her. A branch into her world, her safe space. To share the dark night sky with something is to share your soul with them. Even JJ didn’t know about her nighttime viewings. Did Penelope feel the same way? The shared smiles and small laughs pointed yes. But Penelope was Penelope and Emily was Emily. How could an angel love a human? Why would it sacrifice its virtue for the danger of love? If Penelope was pink and Emily was dark green, could they mix and make something beautiful or would they both end up a ruined brown?

Dinner is tense as always, she does not share anything with her mother, she does not want to. They tiptoe around each other hoping that they won’t step on each other’s toes and crash. Emily retreats to her room the second dinner is over and opens a window. She loves that it gets dark earlier now. The fresh fall air trumps that tacky of scented candles that fill the house in a futile attempt to make it a home. She opens her laptop to finish the concluding paragraph of their essay. She allows herself to be lost in the words of another in order to avoid her own problems of love and belonging. Her phone rings. It’s her problems. They chat with careful conversation about their project and finally, it is finished. It looks good actually, or at least, to Emily it does. It’s not going to win them a Pulitzer, but they’ll get an A.

And then, “Hey.”

“Hey?” They’ve been on the phone for a half an hour, she’s not sure why she’s being greeted all of a sudden.

“Does your offer to stargaze still stand? It’s nice out tonight and, I don’t know, it sounded nice?”

“Yeah of course! Do you, um, do you need a ride or?”

“Nah I got my license and good old Esther. I do need your address though.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll text it to you. Who’s Esther?”

“My car! She’s a lovely thing thought she needed a name. I’ll be there in say, 15 minutes?”

“Sure. Bye Penelope.”

Holy shit.

Okay, she’s got 15 minutes to both have everything ready, but also seem completely casual about the fact that her crush is coming over to stargaze on her roof. The ambassador is long retreated either in bed or into her office, so she shouldn’t be a problem. Emily grabs a couple of blankets for them to sit on to avoid the chilly breeze and a bag of popcorn. She brushes her hair and touches up her eyeliner, not that it’s really visible in the dark, but it helps her feel confident which she’s desperate for at the moment. Her phone buzzes with a text, *im here!!!* It reads. She takes a deep breath before very slowly opening the door.

“Hi,” she whispers, the wind carrying her voice, but it’s just loud enough for its recipient. She closes the door

“Hi! So! Stargazing? That’s fun, I’m like, really excited it’s been a while since I’ve done something like this,” she somehow makes a whisper seem filled with enough energy to power a flashlight that Emily definitely should have brought. They make their way to the intersection where the hill meets the rooftop, and they only trip once, on a stick, but together they stay upright. Emily throws the blankets on the roof and climbs up on the chair before throwing her body on the roof. With her help, Penelope makes her way up after a couple of tries. By the time they lay the blankets out and are sitting down, they’re both practically crying from laughter, her nerves from earlier disappearing slowly.

The laughter fizzles out, and they’re both left staring at the stars. Penelope apparently is an expert of both astronomy and astrology so Emily’s ears are blessed with the sound of her voice. Like sunshine on a sweet summer day. She thinks that Penelope and her are like the sun and the moon, both beautiful, and complementary. Emily’s gaze shifts from the constellations to Penelope’s side profile. The stars shine almost as bright as her, and she can’t help but watch her instead. She can see the stars in her eyes, perhaps they were always there, but they’re more visible now looking in their reflection.

“God they’re beautiful,” Penelope says in awe. Like she can’t believe she’s blessed with the presence of the stars when really it is the stars who should have the honor.

“Yeah, yeah they are,” at this point she’s openly gazing at Penelope. When Penelope turns to meet her gaze she thinks she’s been caught, that it’s over and this night will be one for the ages in terms of beauty and heartbreak. Slowly, a hand makes its way to her cheek, cold like the air around them, but it somehow manages to set her skin on fire.

“May I?”

Emily nods and then they are lips on hers, it is sweet just like her. She’s being kissed under the starlight by a girl who deserves only beauty. Perhaps her dark green can be the field by the sunset of Penelope’s pink in the painting they make together. They do not have to mix, they can simply be combined to create something stunning. They can simply be. They pull apart slowly, and looking into her eyes, Emily thinks that the stars in comparison are simply dull. There is nothing as bright and beautiful in the world as the eyes of your lover.

Tag list- @royalpenelope @scandinavian-punk @kermitsaysgayrights

#penemily #Penelope garcia #emily prentiss #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #let me know what y’all think!!!#lucy’s fics!#mine!

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