#I do not have any chai content I can give because my brain is empty. but I thought of this while using this same meme template for hsr

[myfriendthedictionary]

hello WATT fandom happy new year

[katieurah]

Screening Hearts (Part 6)

Alrighty, lovelies! Here it is. The last part! Enjoy the fluff!

........................................................

The rest of the week passed in a whirlwind of conference calls, meetings, paperwork, and pointless emails to “touch base” on things. Elide figured her boss just wanted to look competent at interpersonal skills. Before she was ready for it, Thursday morning dawned. She woke up that morning and went through a routine, taking comfort in everyday things that steadied her, grounded her, wrapping the only things she was sure of around herself like armor.

What if we can’t work together? What if he tries to talk to me again? I do not need a reason for my boss to think I’m not competent.

Thoughts and worries swirled around in Elide’s mind. She stopped by her favorite coffee shop before work, ordering an extra shot in her dirty chai that morning, a cheesey, buttery croissant to comfort herself. She hadn’t been able to forget the fact that he never apologized for asking her out. She cleared her mind of those thoughts and went to work.

She walked into the conference room, the first face-to-face meeting of the department heads and Whitethorn Security Services. She spotted Rowan listening to her boss ramble on. Man, he’s good, Elide thought, admiring the way he still looked like he was invested in what was being said. His only tell was the set of his jaw. She wondered how long until the muscles started jumping and his teeth started to grind.

Finding an empty seat, Elide startled as two giant arms swept around her shoulders.

“Ferys, I swear if you spill my coffee, I’ll hack every single account you have,” she threatened as the golden man pecked a kiss on her cheek.

“Oh, come on, El. I’d never waste good chai like that,” he teased back. He noticed her quirked eyebrow. “You’re a creature of habit. We all know that’s one of your favorites.”

Just then, Lorcan entered the room.

“As long as there’s plenty of vanilla and cinnamon and not too much cardamom,” Lorcan added. He looked unsure, as if saying those words would spark World War III.

“See, Elle-belle, we all know you,” Fenrys said with a wink. He added emphasis on the all part.

She glared at him through the corner of her eyes.He just smirked, settling in for the meeting.

Great. Everyone’s got an opinion.

…..

It took all of Lorcan’s concentration, but he managed to be flawlessly professional through the meeting, then that day as they broke out into their teams. Working with Elide went like a dream. She was so clever and you could just see how she loved using that brain to make services better. She thought out of the box, about how to make things easier for clients and customers.

We make a good team, he thought. Then immediately tamped down that line of thinking. Elide would come to him when she was ready, if she ever was. Meanwhile, he would be content with their working partnership. He had to be.

That line of thinking was challenged by lunch on Friday, though, much to his irritation. They were eating a catered lunch in the conference room and Rowan was showing off a video of Elspeth playing with Connall.

“Yeah, well we all know I’m the favorite uncle. She just knows Con’s a push over and will give herice cream,” Fenrys boasted.

“You? No way, pup. Ellie and Uncle Lorcan are best of friends,” Lorcan said, scoffing and puffing up his chest.

Just then, Elide walked in and rolled her eyes.

“Got something to say, Lochan?” asked Lorcan, a challenging and teasing tone coming through. His pulse quickened. Ellie and work were their only safe zones right now, but he still didn’t know if she’d let him tease her.

“We all know that I’m Ellie’s favorite, period. We even have a secret handshake now. Besides, we share names. It’s not like she can mess up saying ‘El,’” Elide sassed back. Then with a smirk, she added, “Isn’t that right, Wortie?”

Lorcan blushed furiously, but held his chin up high and pointed a finger. “I will allow that sweet, little princess to mess up my name as long as she pleases. It’s not her fault that two-year olds can’t do L very well. And, Fenrys, I swear to Hellas that she’s the only one who gets to call me that.”

“Hey! Why does everyone assume that I’ll do something? El calling me out over coffee yesterday and now you, Wortie? Rude!”

He barely missed the condiment packages flying at his head from multiple directions.

This, Lorcan thought, pleading to Anneith and Hellas both, this is what I missed. Please, let this last.

….

Elide’s chest tightened as they all bantered back and forth. She missed her friend. She missed their banter. She missed him. It made for a very long afternoon. It passed too slow and too fast at the same time. Before she knew it, computers were being turned off, systems powered down, security measures booted off.

She was shouldering her bag and grabbing her jacket to head to the door when Fenrys grabbed the handle and slipped his arm through hers.

“We’re going down to Maclearen’s for a drink. Join, yeah?”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“Ro, Lorcan, me… Aelin’s joining us there,” Fen replied. He saw her hesitate and pulled out the bribery. “I’ll buy you the first round and give you a shoulder rub.”

“Deal. Who could say no to those hands?” Elide quipped back.

“Right? That’s what my dates always say at least.”

Elide threw her head back and cackled, letting him lead her outside. ….

The crowd at the pub was surprisingly thin for a Friday night. The group quickly found a table and ordered their first round of drinks. Aelin soon joined them, immediately pulling attention to a story of Elspeth’s latest escapades.

“Sorry I’m late. Ellie decided it was the most important thing in the world to discover what surfaces makeup looks best on and which colors are the best base.”

Rowan looked amused and horrified all at once. “She didn’t? And what’s her expert opinion?”

“Her favorite seems to be bright blue and green eyeshadow over cream texture walls in the den. Which is why I’m late and I need a drink.”

“Brand new Johnny Walker on the rocks, love,” Fenrys said, sliding his drink over to her. “It’s my second and I need a reason to go talk to that bartender up there. She didn’t laugh at my last joke, so obviously I need to convince her of quality humor.”

Aelin raised her glass. “Here’s to smarter-than-average bartenders who know better.”

Rowan and Lorcan snickered.

“I think I’ll go get a second round, too. I can play wingman and play witness to this disaster at the same time,” Rowan said, clapping Fenrys on the back, standing and dragging the protesting man up to the bar.

“I think I’ll join in on this,” Aelin said, eyes glittering. “Either of you need anything?”

Lorcan glanced down at his glass, more than half full still, then looked to Elide’s drink. The bottle was barely at half.

“I’m good,” he told Aelin, clearing his throat.

Aelin sauntered away, but then threw a glance over her shoulder at the two of them. She reached the bar, leaning on Rowan’s shoulder.

“What are you doing, Fireheart?”

“Moi? What ever are you talking about?” Aelin asked innocently. She batted her eyelashes for effect.

Fenrys snorted. “A, you are incorrigible. And scheming. You seriously gonna push them into talking?”

“If you haven’t noticed, neither one of them are drinking much and I swear they’re purposely not looking at each other. I’m just creating the moment for some conversation. Now, would you two shut up so I can spy in peace?”

...

Elide was a little surprised Lorcan wasn’t on his second drink yet. He wasn’t an alcoholic by any means, but he appreciated good liquor. He also was not a lightweight, so she couldn’t understand why he was still on his first bourbon. She said as much to him, no bite in her words, just curiosity.

“Seems like a better idea to go slow and light tonight,” he replied, huffing a laugh. “Apparently, I can be as stupid as the next guy when I’m in too deep.”

Elide studied him then. Before she could think of what she was saying, she blurted, “Salvaterre, how come you didn’t apologize for asking me out? You’ve said you were sorry for being drunk and high on benadryl, you’ve apologized for hurting me, for the words you said, for not paying attention. But, you’ve never apologized for asking me on a date. Why?”

“Because I’m not sorry for that. I always intended to ask you,” Lorcan replied, seriously. He frowned, hesitation crossing his brow. “Should I be sorry for it?”

Before she could reply, he rushed on. “You said something the other night, on the phone. You said you believed in me, believed that I’d make a good partner. Did you mean it?”

She looked up at his eyes, saw hesitation there. A vulnerability there that never came out. “Yes,” she breathed.

“In general?... Or, for you?”

“Can it be both?” she asked, a bite in her voice to cover up her nervousness. She drew herself up to her full height, faking a courage she didn’t feel. “Can’t I think that if you ever pulled your head out of your ass and let down your walls, you’d be great to some girl out there and she’d be the luckiest one alive? And is it a problem if I had wished that girl was me?”

She barely got the words out before his lips crashed into hers.

….

He moved before he thought it, had moved around the table and taken the seat next to her. As he pressed his lips to hers, his hand slipped around her neck, the other cupping her cheek. Too soon, he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers.

“And now?” He asked breathlessly, quietly.

Time had stopped. He waited for her reply.

“I want to say yes, because it’s the truth,” Elide whispered against his lips. “I want to tell you I still wish I was that girl. But if I do, I give you the power to hurt me again, to let me down again. And as much as I doubt you will, it scared the hell out of me.”

“I promise, Elide Lochan, to spend as much time as possible proving to you that I’m sorry and would never, ever, hurt you or let you down again. But I’m not stupid. I’m a man and I’m human. I probably will do dumb shit many more times. But I swear to never break your trust like that again. I will spend however long it takes proving it to you. And I’ll wait, Elide Lochan. I will let you be the one to decide the next step. Because I want you to feel safe with me, not scared.” The words left Lorcan in a rush, his face impossibly close to hers, his hands still on her neck and cheek, his eyes sincere and searching.

“Ask me on a date,” she said.

“What?” Lorcan asked, startled.

“Ask me on a date, Salvaterre.” “Go on a date with me, Lochan.”

“Now ask me to go home with you tonight.”

“So soon?” He teased, eyes sparkling. “Come home with me tonight, Lochan.”

“Now ask me to be yours.”

Lorcan swallowed hard. “Be mine, Elide Lochan.”

“I’ll think about it, Salvaterre. I mean, we haven’t been on that date or even-ahh!” Elide squealed as Lorcan stood up, pulling her up in his arms and crashed his mouth over hers again. His arms swept around her waist and he dipped her, right there in that pub.

“I’m yours, Lorcan Salvaterre,” Elide told him, her eyes sincere and open.

In the background, they heard Fenrys whistle, Rowan clap, and Aelin shout, “Told ya! Now pay up, Buzzard.”

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” Lorcan asked.

“Please,” Elide said, laughing as they stood up. She slipped her hand through his, feeling safe and calm for the first time in weeks.

...............................................................

@nalgenewhore @hizqueen4life @whyyoumakemesadstahp @the-dark-swan

[moonbeammuses-a]

@gentlegently cont. from an ask

                                              A bar. It’s a bar. A human bar, for perfectly ordinary humans in need of a bit of uneventful watering or, more likely,beering; a place that could not be any MORE mundane or any LESSadventurous, utterly unbeaten in its normality. Dirk could kiss it. Because here’s the thing: all day, from the first cacophonous bleep of his alarm clock to the last blister-footed step that brought him into this part of town, he’s been completely DYING dying for a drink.

        Annoyingly enough, being the universe’s favourite plaything does not always result in instant wish-fulfilment. Quite the opposite: over the years, the detective has often found that the simpler his urges, the more viciously complicated the world’s efforts to keep him on his toes. Honestly, he would be hard-pressed to imagine anything less spectacular than the much-needed discovery of a quiet place to have a bit of a sit-down and a container, any kind of container, from which to sip a drinkable liquid, any kind of drinkable liquid. When he startled awake this morning, a whole eighteen hours younger and more naive, he was still fool enough to hope for a park bench and a hot cup of cocoa. Around midday ( his hair a mess and his shirt stained with ghostly ectoplasm, the sight of which is destined to evoke exceedingly wrong connotations ), he would have gladly contented himself with any old folding chair and a bottle of stale apple juice. But by now? Good grief, he’sdesperate. Not that it’s much of a surprise, after a whole day of having been bulleted across town in the most feverish zigzagging pattern by whatever forces of nature still seem to be suffering from intense onslaughts of galactic boredom. Nothing else could explain their pesky tendency to deem him such an excellent bouncy ball. Before chance, fate, or simply his malnourished instincts made him happen across the bar, he was just about ready to curl up on a mould-covered spot of pavement behind a leaky rubbish skip and slurp mouthfuls of rainbow-oiled puddle water. And now this! He’s positive he has never seen a more inviting establishment in his entire life: the door is just a door, just a normal human-sized door without sanity-threatening riddles or insane mechanisms designed to catapult unsuspecting visitors into a far-away dimension populated by, oh, blood-thirsty paperclips, if he knows his luck. The walls are just walls, the windows are exactly that, warm and glowy with a hospitality that sends several full-body shivers of hope racing all the way from Dirk’s singed hair to his exhausted toes.

                                                                              When he finally stumbles into the room, it’s with an exhale of relief loud enough to shake the entire building. And — and perhaps it’s mainly the pure delight of being welcome, the unbridled joy of, just for once, NOT finding himself on the short and definitely far-too panicky end of a life-or-death chase — perhaps it’s just all of that, but when he spots the barkeeper behind the meticulously polished counter, it appears to him that he’s never seen a more handsome face, never entrusted himself into the care of two hands more expertly kiss-worthy than those.

               Unmistakably re-energised, the detective hurries toward the counter and seats himself, regrettably leaving little smudges of doubtful origin on whatever surface he touches, but glossing it all over with a radiant smile. His belief in the world and humanity at large has been rekindled, all is well again! “ Good evening, my good-looking, drinks-pouring barkeeper man, ” he enthuses vocally, thoroughly basking in the wonderful experience of acquainting his behind with something as outlandishly comfortable as a seat. “ If you’d be kind enough bless me with a cup of tea and perhaps a biscuit or two, I swear I will love and cherish you FOREVER! ” Remarkably, it doesn’t feel like an exaggeration. Nothing but floaty dandelion fluff remains in the tingly hollow that was, up until a second ago, Dirk’s brain. The enamoured grin is quick to drip from his lips, however, when he shoves his hands into all and any pockets he encounters in his clothing and finds not coins, not banknotes, but an empty packet of crisps, a rubber duck, a cracked-open geode, six identical pink glitter gel pens, a miniature flowerpot, a palmful of what he can only assume were once fruit loops, the lower half of a toothbrush and a huge rumpled-up ball of leaflets advertising a never-heard-before brand of turtle food.

                               “ Oh — Oh, God. Do you — p-please tell me you accept payment in the form of case-solving! I’m a detective, you see, a fairly good one, if fairly is understood to mean almost and good, uhm, adequate-in-all-regards-except-likelihoods-of-success. I … I have connections to the CIA!I could give you a get-out-of-prison-for-free gift voucher, o-or … oh! I could find that one object you’ve lowkey been looking for all those weeks!, the one you don’t really NEED, but would quite like to see back in your possession because its disappearance feels like a vague gnawing at the back of your mind, complete with cerebral little chomp-chomp noises! Those are destined to drive you insane in NO TIME at all. Your mental health should be WORTH a mug of hot plant water or two! ” He’s going off a hunch here, frankly, but — everyone has an object like that, and he really, really, really needs that cuppa!

Well, that certainly was an entrance. Jimmy had only just finished clearing away several glasses and their subsequent condensation marks from the group that had occupied that particular barstool, and the three on either side of it. He was setting out new coasters when the undeniably odd man  plopped down before him, cheerful demeanor clashing horribly with the state of his clothes and hair. Whatever this man had been through, his attitude seemed undeterred, and really, something about that eagerness was utterly charming. Jimmy found himself smiling at this new customer even before he’d really heard the request, too caught up in the bright yellow of his.. slightly damaged jacket, and the almost manic gleam in those blue eyes. 

The eager request for tea was met with a chuckle, once it actually processed. “I just might hold you to that,” he joked. 

“You’ve got good timing, I only just finished boiling some water,” Jimmy continued, turning to the kettle behind him. Indeed, the machine had clicked off at nearly the same moment this new man came in through the door. Jimmy spooned out a portion of tea leaves, a rather lovely fall-themed blend, spicy chai with a hint of ginger, sure to help fight against the chill that clung to the wind today. When he was readying to pour the water, he heard the unmistakable sounds of his new patron frantically pocket-checking. Ah. Seemed his day had left him with more concerns than mussed hair and a dirtied coat. 

Jimmy had barely opened his mouth to offer the cup of tea on the house when the man began to offer his services as a detective, of all things, and Jimmy turned to face him curiously, kettle still in hand and all-but-forgotten as he listened to the explanation. It was all a bit strange, really, but something about the fervent energy in the way h spoke left Jimmy smiling all over again. It was adorable, truth be told. He could see how the flurry of words might bother some, but it was, honestly, quite endearing. Still.. the emphasis on something lost nagged at his mind. Well, maybe he was being a bit silly. After all, this was a stranger. 

“Not to worry,” he said calmly. “I’ll let you have this one on the house. You seem to have had quite a day, and I imagine a nice cup of tea will do its own small part in making your day a bit better. But in exchange, you’ll have to tell me more about your detective work, okay?” he asked, and turned his attention to filling the teapot so that the leaves could steep. “Not many people ask for tea in a bar, you know,” he commented. “I usually just make it for myself.” With that comment established, he turned and dug around in a cabinet beneath where the kettle sat, pulling a half-emptied package of Tesco’s malted milk biscuits. Tucking that beneath one arm, he also retrieved an unopened pack of Chocolate-coated Digestives, ad he set both before the stranger, soon followed by a cup and saucer, and, of course, the teapot. 

“That’ll need a good two minutes to steep,” Jimmy noted, nodding at the teapot. “Goes great with honey, if you like.” A scan around the bar revealed it was nearly empty, aside from a couple of regulars in the booths, nursing their drinks and looking quite content for the moment. So Jimmy pulled his own stool up, sitting across from his colorful customer, and setting his own teacup on the bartop. “So, you’re a detective?” he asked. “Do you work with the police?” A pause, then.. “You mentioned finding objects. ...Do you maybe help find people who’ve gone missing?”