#and then a yellow coffee cup with tan foam on a brown table

[queen-mabs-revenge]

i set up a photo in an artwork using the spot pantones that i'm using in the rest of the artwork for flexo printing, just to avoid having to buy cmyk plates in addition to the spots, and the plate makers rang me like 'um....what?' cause apparently that's very much freak behaviour? idk it just made sense to me to make the image up out of the spots instead of cmyk? lmao but apparently they were really intrigued, but they've never seen that before so bohhh

i said lmao this is what you get when you get a self-taught weirdo setting up your graphics

[earpdearp]

just the beginning

Wherein Waverly shares a favorite spot with her favorite friend, Nicole.

A beautiful sunrise, a cup of coffee, a good conversation… what else do you need?

Also on AO3. Approximately 4,840 words.

Other WayHaught “just friends” fics: just blowing off steam  |  just coffee  |  just another tuesday

It was less the doorbell that woke Nicole Haught and more the launching of her terrified cat off her thigh. Alarmed mewling accompanied sharp pinpricks of hind claws as the ginger cat disappeared down the hall (presumably to the hall closet: Calamity Jane’s favorite hiding place).

Nicole started to swear after the damn cat, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort it as she sat up in bed. Exhaling in a slow hiss, Nicole ran her fingertips over the clusters of scratches on her thigh. (If only this was the first time this had happened… or if only it was to be the last.)

Perfect. Just perfect.

The doorbell chimed again. Reaching for her phone, Nicole noted the time: 5:36AM. The darkness outside her bedroom curtains confirmed the early hour.

What the hell?

Nicole padded down the hall in socks, flannel pajama bottoms and a light long-sleeve shirt, shivering slightly against the settled chill of the rest of her house (her bedroom had the luxury of a small heater). She vaguely thought about grabbing her gun, but dismissed that idea (considering burglars don’t usually ring first).

Approaching the front door, Nicole stepped into a pair of tan, hard-soled house slippers. She clicked on the porch light before throwing open the door, revealing…

Waverly Earp?

“Good morning!” Waverly chirped, jostling a pair of travel coffee cups enticingly.

The old porch lamp threw harsh yellows across a Waverly Earp dressed in warm-up pants, a dark crop top and her usual heavy leopard-print coat. Her hair was tied in a side ponytail, a light dusting of make-up accented her eyes and lips, and a range of gold bracelets jangled down both wrists.

Of course it would be Waverly. And as “Waverly” as ever, even this early.

Stepping onto her door mat, Nicole rubbed her arms against the cold (and resisted the temptation to smooth down her hair). “Uh, morning? I thought—“ Nicole paused and looked at her phone again. “—I thought we were meeting before my shift at 9.”

A sunshine-sweet reply. “We are!”

“Oh…” Nicole blinked blearily, trying to wrap her mind around what was happening. The distant sky was starting to purple slightly with the dawn, but stars still twinkled in the (very early) morning twilight.

Waverly’s smile faltered. “It’s not too early, is it? I was afraid it would be…” She took a step back, eyes apologetic. “I—I wanted it to be a surprise. I’m not great with surprises but I thought it was a good plan and I…“ A line appeared between her eyebrows.

Nicole interrupted her with a hand wave. “Waves.”

Snapping her mouth shut, Waverly tilted her head.

“Sorry. It’s not too early. I just wasn’t expecting you. Neither was CJ.” Nicole smiled at Waverly as warmly as she could before shooting a mock-glare over her shoulder and raising her voice. “Who is a worthless protector, by the way!” Through her pajama pants, she rubbed at the small burning scratches down her right thigh.

The worry line smoothed from Waverly’s brow. “Cats usually are! …the protectee rather than the protector, is what I meant. Not that Calamity Jane is worthless.”

“Oh, but she is worthless,” Nicole corrected with a good-natured smile.

Stepping forward, Waverly offered Nicole one of the coffees. She made a nodding head motion. “Check it out!”

Confused, Nicole slowly accepted the cup. At another enthusiastic head nod from Waverly, she moved a hand to the plastic lid. And with a final confirmation nod, Nicole popped off the lid. Inside appeared to be a delicious Shorty’s cappuccino with one difference: mixed with the espresso was milk-foam drizzled into a picture-perfect heart shape.

Waverly’s smile was broad and proud. “I’ve been practicing! Just for you!”

That smile was infectious. Nicole found herself more pleased at the gesture than she should have been. “You have! It came out awesome! …wait.” She looked at her phone again, then the coffee, then up and down at Waverly. “…how long have you been up?”

With a sheepish shrug, Waverly mumbled, “Like 5… 4… 3…AM?” Her eyes didn’t quite meet Nicole’s as she took a long sip of her own coffee.

“Waverly…” Nicole warned.

“…Okay, so I haven’t technically gone to sleep yet.” 

“Waverly!”

Waving a dismissive hand, Waverly stole another sip of her coffee. “Remember I work at a bar, Nicole. Not my first rodeo this week, even. …Plus, Wynonna came in crazy late then by the time she passed out I would have had to get up to get everything, so…” She trailed off as she threw a thumb behind her at the still-running Jeep. Vapor clouded around the rumbling vehicle.

Nicole took a step back and opened the screen door on the porch to welcome the woman inside. Waverly shook her head and pointed behind her again. “Up for a little road trip?” She grinned, eyes glittering in the low light.

“Absolutely.” Hesitation didn’t even cross Nicole’s mind. It didn’t matter that it was 5:30 in the morning or that it was Goddamn cold out. Nicole did pause to pull at the bottom of her shirt, though. “…Uh, can I change first?”

“No need! I have blankets!” Waverly reached out and snagged the cuff of Nicole’s shirt and tugged. “And if it makes you feel any better, we probably won’t leave the car.”

At Nicole’s raised eyebrow, Waverly hastily added, “I just… want to show you something.” There was a quiet shyness to her words, a soft gaze that she dropped after a second too long.

Without even thinking twice, Nicole replied, “…Let me get my keys.” She pulled out of Waverly’s grasp, but not before running fingertips down the woman’s wrist. Possibly on accident.

She didn’t run so much as fly over to the side table near the kitchen to scoop up her keyring. Nicole then detoured around the pantry to grab a handful of dry cat food from the open bag (after looping the keys over her coffee-hand index finger). She dropped the pellets with a loud clattering into Calamity Jane’s bowl. An excited meow could be heard from the ajar closet. Ginger fur was a blur in Nicole’s vision as she smoothly exited the house and locked the door behind her.

Waverly was still on her front porch, drinking coffee and staring off into the brightening eastern sky. At the creaking screen door, she turned to Nicole with a wide smile.

“Ready,” Nicole affirmed with a playful twirl of her keys.

Gesturing at her car with her head, Waverly’s long ponytail snapped behind her shoulder. Both women climbed into the small Jeep and buckled in (though Nicole did spare a moment outside to rake fingers through her messy hair).

Nicole was struck by how warm it was inside the car. There was a soft brown blanket folded up and waiting on her seat, which Nicole draped over her long legs. In between their seats was a large brown paper bag with some visible grease stains. A heavy scent of egg drifted up from it, making Nicole’s stomach rumble.

At Nicole’s intrigued glance downward, Waverly tsked before shifting gears to back out of the gravel driveway. “Not ‘til we get there.” She smiled widely at Nicole’s attempt at a sad-but-hopefully-endearing face. “…it’s not a long drive. Promise.”

Purgatory was always dark at night. Small town, not a lot of wasted energy for street lamps outside of the main town areas (or ambitious neighbors with fancier automatic gates). The headlamps ahead only picked up the passing dirt/snow-covered road. Nicole was tempted to look at her phone for a map, but instead drank her coffee and savored the suspense.

“Ever seen a Purgatory sunrise?” Waverly asked, eyes intent on the windshield. Her palms rolled with the steering wheel from instinct and practice.

Nicole stopped to think. “Twice. So far.” A sad smile twitched at the corner of her mouth, which she hid behind her coffee.

“When was the first?”

“End of my third night shift. Nedley kicked me off early. He showed up at the station, hat back on his head with a giant cup of coffee. He told me ‘Dismissed, rookie. ‘Bout time you appreciate why you’re here.’” Nicole thought her gruff Sheriff Nedley impression was pretty good.

Success: Waverly chuckled. “What happened?”

“I was dog-ass tired from logging drunks in the tank… That was the night of that big brawl at Pussywillows. Like eight arrests, most of whose wives’ were not keen on picking them up.”

Nicole smiled as she looked down at that vague heart shape in her cup, the foam half gone. It made the memory all the sweeter. “So I walk outside, tired and irritated… and there’s that big sunrise lighting up the street. It was right after the first snowfall which hadn’t gotten a chance to melt, plus no one was out in town yet to disturb it. Just beautiful… the way the light hit the buildings and street. I didn’t want to take a picture, I just wanted to remember it, y’know?”

Nodding, Waverly glanced over at her. “What was the second?”

An awkward swallow. “Uh… when—when I woke up in that ditch… After that ‘Jack the Ripper’ or whoever…” She trailed off, wincing when she saw the pained expression on Waverly’s face. Nicole tried to salvage the story. “When I woke up, I was looking straight up and it was so quiet and I wasn’t cold anymore. I saw the light change so quickly and I turned my head and there it was. Filtering through the trees and so so bright. And a second later, I saw Nedley step out of the sun and tell me I was ‘gonna be okay, kid.’” No mocking impression this time, just a soft drop in pitch for imitation.

It was strange to think of the stern Sheriff as her guardian angel, but in that moment: he definitely was. Nicole had passed out immediately after and woken up in the hospital, just aching all over.

She felt fingertips on the hand in her lap and looked down. It was Waverly. A few of her bracelets tickled Nicole’s thigh as the woman gripped her hand.

“…Nicole. I’m so sorry.”

Why?

“It’s not your fault, Waves. It just happened. And I’m so glad Wynonna got away. I hope that sonofabitch got what was coming to him.” Nicole didn’t like to advocate violence, but deep down she had a few exceptions.

“He did.” The sad, knowing way Waverly said that made Nicole’s head jerk up. Nicole studied her, but her expression was neutral other than a tightening in her jaw.

Nicole had to bite her tongue against the sea of questions that sprang to mind. She just knew it had to have been Wynonna… but how?

Did it matter?

Clearing her throat, Nicole squeezed Waverly’s hand back. “When was your first sunrise, Waverly?”

A sad smile through that tight jaw. “It’s not a good story.”

“I’d like to hear it,” Nicole said softly. “But I understand if you don’t want to tell it.”

There was about 10 seconds of silence. Nicole felt Waverly’s hand start to slip out of hers, but then suddenly grip harder.

Staring hard at the road, Waverly’s voice was soft and stuttering. “I was—I was six. On the Homestead. The night Willa was taken and… and Wynonna shot Daddy to try and—try and stop them. I remember just standing there. Aunt Gus kept asking me to come in the house, but I just couldn’t move. I was still staring at where they—the cops—had driven off with Wynonna. And that little point on the horizon I was staring at… suddenly there was a little spark of light. And it just grew and grew and I stared until I couldn’t see anymore.”

“Oh God… I’m so sorry, Waverly.”

“Not your fault either,” Waverly echoed. She pulled her hand out of Nicole’s finally to wipe at the single tear that had stained her cheek. Smiling at Nicole, Waverly shrugged. “I’ve seen happy ones, too. Some good ones on the MacCready farm between the hills. On the roof of Shorty’s. Even on the Homestead with Wynonna.”

She nodded ahead of them at a curve in the road. “This should be a good one, too.”

“I’m sure it will be,” Nicole agreed.

A few minutes later, the fat Jeep tires crunched as the road angle steepened. Nicole thought she saw a small white sign, but it passed too quickly for her to read. The dark purple had started to lighten and gave Nicole just the barest hint of surroundings: scrubby trees and a rock face to their right.

They meandered up the trail with the occasional errant swerve, but Waverly steered into any skids with practiced calm. Nicole pressed her body into her seat in alarm when she saw the Jeep heading directly for a close grove of bushes that appeared to dead-end into the cliffside.

“…Waverly.”

The woman only smiled back wickedly and tapped the gas. Nicole braced herself as they crashed through the underbrush into a secret clearing just at the edge of a cliff. There, Waverly jerked the wheel into a small circle to point them directly at the edge and slow to a stop.

Shifting into park, Waverly leaned over and pulled up the paper bag to show Nicole. Inside, Nicole saw stacks of aluminum foil-wrapped mounds. A few had scribbles of letters on them with permanent marker.

“Ta da! Breakfast tacos! Courtesy of JD’s Restaurant—well, courtesy of Debbie who owed me a favor,” Waverly announced and crinkled the bag at Nicole (whose stomach rumbled again). She peeked inside and started listing, “The P’s are for potato and egg, B’s are for bean and egg, anything else is bacon. You like bacon, right?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh shit! Sorry!” Waverly gave an awkward laugh. “I wasn’t trying to make a cop joke!”

It took a second for Nicole to register those rapid-fire words. Mostly because she was staring at Waverly’s lips.

Unh? Cop joke?

Oh right. Bacon. Pig. “Cops are pigs.” Right.

Nicole laughed as selected an unmarked bacon and egg taco. “Purgatory must be a rare exception, cuz I actually haven’t heard many cop jokes. Well… from people who aren’t cops, anyway.” She mock-glared at Waverly before covering it with a warm smile.

Waverly pulled out a cylindrical piece of foil with a distinct “P” indention on top for herself and set the bag back down. Nicole started to unwrap the taco, but a hand on her wrist stopped her from taking a bite.

Glancing at the dashboard, Waverly pulled on Nicole’s wrist as she nodded straight ahead. “Wait for it.”

Ever the polite guest, Nicole waited (and definitely did not jerk her hand out of Waverly’s grasp).

The almost clear sky blossomed into warm pinks, then reds, then oranges. Ahead of them, the spectrum of color was mirrored across the smooth water of the Purgatory Reservoir. Bands of light trickled between the ridges of the reservoir cliffs. Steam billowing from the hot car engine refracted the light through a haze. And a few seconds later, a familiar bright orb crested the horizon. Ripples in the water sparkled with white light.

Turning to Waverly, Nicole was surprised to see the woman was already looking at her. Her hazel eyes caught the light and brightened to an almost-green. Waverly’s soft smile suddenly turned to a more broad, smug one. “See? Told you.”

Waverly “toasted” with a tap of her foil-wrapped taco against Nicole’s as she let go of Nicole’s hand. “Welcome to my spot, Nicole Haught.” Manicured nails peeled back the aluminum within seconds.

“I’m honored.” It was supposed to sound light and sarcastic. But instead, Nicole found herself smiling and sincere. “It’s a good spot, Waverly Earp.”

Nicole bit into her own taco, savoring the crunch of bacon and the still-warm egg. There was finally enough light to look around.

The Purgatory Reservoir was a pretty standard carved hole in the ground to create an artificial lake. Rusty piping scaled up the northern end before disappearing towards the town itself. There were definite paths cut into the rock with a small, empty dock on the eastern end. Otherwise, they were alone at this oddly serene little perch overlooking a distinct hiking trail.

Small town indeed.

“How did you find this place?” Nicole asked through another bite.

“By accident.”

“Like most good things,” Nicole nodded.

Waverly took a long sip of her coffee. “I was 16 and mad about something. I don’t remember what. Curtis had just fixed up this Jeep so I just wanted to get away. I wanted to go down to the lake and just… I dunno, skip rocks or something. I was going too fast and a pair of hikers were coming up the trail. I had to turn hard and went through this little underbrush and ended up here. The hikers were drunk and didn’t even notice. I sat here for hours, but no one came looking.”

“Well that’s… dangerous.” Nicole offered a cringe-smile at Waverly’s glare. “Hey, you could have just careened into the lake.”

Then who would I be in lo—having breakfast with? Nicole wanted to say but held her tongue.

“But I didn’t!” Waverly squawked defensively. She grumbled into her coffee. “…you sound just like Uncle Curtis.”

“I will assume that’s a compliment.”

Waverly wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “Depends.” But she did smile. “I used to come up here to practice cheerleading… lots of space plus privacy to shout at the top of my lungs. I was trying to make varsity. It was hard to practice at home when Wynonna was still there and always fighting with Gus and Curtis… or running off.” Waverly balled up her fist and mock-punched her other open palm. “I love Wynonna to death… but she could be a shit. …Still is, sometimes.”

“I can see that,” Nicole calmly agreed, though she was still internally digesting the “cheerleader” factoid. It was… not an unpleasant path for her mind to go down.

Balling up the foil and chucking the trash into her back seat, Waverly drummed her fingers on her steering wheel. “I think everyone here has Their Spot, y’know? Which is so weird to think about. We live in a small town to get away from people… And yet with all this space, we still need more space to get away from everyone… usually the people we love.” That sad smile was back.

Nicole leaned back in her seat to appreciate the view once more, though she did have to flip down the sun visor to shield her eyes. “I guess I’ll be a true Purgatorian when I find my own Spot, yea?” She shot a grin at Waverly.

The return smile from Waverly was soft and sweet. “You can—you can borrow mine if you want. Until you find your own.”

“When and if I do: you’ll be the first person I tell,” Nicole promised. She started to say something, but instead opted for a teasing retort. “It’ll be hard to top this spot, though. You set the bar pretty high, Earp.”

In more ways than one.

Waverly gave a humble bow of the head. “It’s what I do, Haught.”

Suddenly, they both picked this moment to go for the bag of tacos at the same time. Leaning over, they accidentally smacked their foreheads together. They both jerked back, Waverly swearing “Dammit!” while Nicole’s vision was flooded with sparks of light. A second passed before they both burst out laughing and rubbed their heads.

Leaning back in carefully this time, Nicole reached her hand out to put it on Waverly’s neck. She guided their foreheads into a gentle touch as she smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I’ll forgive you if you forgive me.”

A bright, familiar chirp. “Deal!”

It was supposed to just be nice. Simple. But Nicole’s hand stayed too long, their foreheads touched too long, Waverly smiled too long. Clearing her throat, Nicole dropped her gaze (and that hand) to select another taco while Waverly pulled back.

“What—what does the ‘N’ stand for?” Nicole asked, pulling a particularly large one out.

“Huh?” Waverly was still staring before she registered what Nicole had said. Her eyes blinked quickly. “Oh! That’s the Nedley Special.”

“The what?”

“Don’t ask me what’s in it. Debbie knows. Probably full of red meat and cheese. Chrissy and I keep telling him he needs to watch his cholesterol.”

Nicole still stared, not quite understanding.

That ponytail at Waverly’s shoulder bounced with her head tilt. “For the station? I figured you could look like a hero showing up for work with breakfast for everybody. Well…” Waverly amended with a sweet smile. “More of a hero than usual.”

A melodic ping sounded in the car. Nicole’s phone was silent in her blanketed lap, so it must be Waverly’s. Ignoring it, Waverly reached in to snag the last potato and egg taco. “There you go. Take as much as you want, and the boys can have the rest… or pull a Wynonna and just eat it all in front of them.” She wrinkled her nose in mock-disgust.

“Thank you, Waverly. I really apprecia—“ Nicole started before another text sound.

Waverly’s jaw tightened, but not before she placed the large sack on Nicole’s lap. And another ping.

“Goddammit! She always does this!” Waverly’s voice was almost a breathless shriek from the high pitch.

“Waverly…”

A few seconds later the phone rang, which Waverly angrily tapped to send to voicemail.

“So, what time do you—?“ Waverly started to ask before the phone in her hand buzzed again. A vein twitched at her temple.

Nicole had to try very hard not to laugh. “Waverly. It’s okay. It might be important.”

The phone rang for a third time. Wynonna was being persistent. Exhaling loudly through her nose, Waverly stabbed a finger at the phone. “I’m here I’m here! Jesus! What’s going on?”

Nicole could hear Wynonna’s voice through the phone, loud and breathless.

[“What the hell, Waverly? You scare the shit out of me when you don’t answer! Where are you?”]

Waverly shot a significant glance at Nicole before her eyes returned to the dashboard. “I was—I’m just running an—I’m out with—none of your business! What’s going on?” She repeated, cheeks reddeningly slightly.

Ah.

Nicole remained thoughtfully silent, though a little ember of hope was kindled.

Rekindled, if she was being 100% honest.

Maybe… If—If it didn’t mean anything, it would be easy to just say “I’m hanging out with Nicole.” …but she didn’t. So… maybe…?

Wynonna’s muffled voice was accusing. [“You’re running errands?! At seven in the morning?!”]

“I have a life, Wynonna. A job, too,” Waverly hissed back defensively. “Plus, what are you doing up this early? You didn’t even make it to bed last night. I had to leave you on the couch.”

[“Hey, I just needed a power nap! A little Red Bull and this little lady will be firing on all cylinders in no time!”]

Nicole reflexively made a silent retching noise at the thought of Red Bull. No thank you, ma’am.

Sighing, Waverly pinched the bridge of her nose. “Uh huh…”

[“Anyway, Dolls is up my ass about some new case. And he very specifically asked for you to show up. You know how he loves his pep-talk briefings. Whole new meaning to ‘fire and brimstone’ with that guy.”]

“Right,” Waverly sighed again. “…right.”

[“See you at the office in 30?”]

Checking her watch, Waverly shook her head. “Gonna take me a little longer than that. But yea. I’ll be there.”

[“Thanks, babygirl. …where are you anyway?”]

“I said none of your damn business, Wynonna.”

[“You better not have gotten back together with that idiot Champ. Or his pair of ‘braincells.’”]

Waverly’s eyes flicked to Nicole’s again and her nose wrinkled in awkward—but suppressed—anger. “No, I am not with Champ. Just… see you at the office. Bye.”

Nicole would be lying if her ears didn’t perk up every time she heard about a case falling into BBD’s lap, especially when she heard Waverly was consulting on it. But Nicole simply sat politely and kept a sympathetic smile on her face.

Something a friend would do, right?

Apologetic, Waverly asked if they could head back. Nicole obliged with a nod; she had to get ready for her shift. And there was still time to squeeze in a shower. A run was out of the question now.

Totally worth it, though.

The warm, idled Jeep growled to life and Waverly shifted gears before turning back down the road they came. The gravel crunched under fat tires as they bounced back towards Purgatory proper in silence.

“Why—” Nicole started, before clearing her throat and clutching the bag of tacos tighter. “—Why didn’t you tell Wynonna you were hanging out with me?” Thankfully, it didn’t come out emotional or accusing, but just politely curious.

Waverly was silent. She offered a small shrug which pushed her side ponytail over her shoulder.

Part of Nicole wanted to press the matter. Get an answer once and for all. Get whatever this was—this silent, unspoken thing—out in the open.

Or end it once and for all?

But that was Nicole’s impatience talking. She was only half the equation. The other half was Waverly, who obviously wasn’t ready for… whatever this was. That wasn’t fair to put everything on Waverly to decide right this second… Especially after she was up all night dealing with Wynonna and God-Only-Knows what else.

Granted, not every discussion was going to have the luxury of a right-place, right-time. But at the very least, Nicole could give her the space to decide when she was ready.

Which clearly was not this moment.

Instead, Nicole leaned over and clicked on the radio. The dial was set to the local pop station, the signal crisp this close to the radio tower (which visibly crested the hill north of the reservoir). A heady beat accompanied female vocals that Nicole didn’t recognize, but she did notice a small rhythmic bobbing of Waverly’s head to the beat. The uncomfortable silence was only interrupted by the radio DJ cracking bad jokes between Top 40 tracks.

It wasn’t until they pulled into Nicole’s driveway did Waverly finally answer. “I just…”

The sound of Waverly’s voice stopped Nicole from folding up the blanket over her knees. She looked up to see a very intense, brow-crinkled look from Waverly.

“…I’m not like, ashamed of hanging out with you. I hope you know that, Nicole.”

Nicole gave a cheek-pulling smile of acknowledgement. “I know. I’m not ashamed of hanging out with you either, Waverly.” She waited, running her fingertips down the now-cold bag of tacos.

“I just… I want something separate from Wynonna, you know? I just… I always feel like I’m working around her. Or Gus. Or this town. …Or being an Earp. And I… I don’t know what I’m trying to say.” Waverly trailed off, collapsing into her seat with an angry sigh.

“Okay.”

“’Okay?’” A high-pitched mimic of Nicole. Waverly frowned at her. “What do you mean: ‘okay?’”

Nicole offered Waverly the folded blanket as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “I mean okay.” She turned to face Waverly and looked her dead in the eye. “It’s okay for Wynonna to not know everything. It’s okay to feel like you’re always doing things for everyone else and not yourself and be frustrated by it. It’s okay that you don’t know what to say. And I’m okay with all of that.”

“Nicole, I…” Waverly bit her lip.

“Thank you for breakfast, Waverly,” Nicole said warmly. She reached out and touched Waverly’s wrist. “I’ll see you at the station later?”

Waverly nodded, confused. She looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t.

“Okay,” Nicole repeated, though with a slight teasing twinkle this time. “Have a good morning. I know I did.” And with that, she turned and headed for her front door.

Excited scratching could be heard as Nicole put her key in the lock after balancing the large bag under her armpit. When she got the door open to a waiting Calamity Jane, Nicole turned to wave at Waverly, who was still staring back at her. Eventually, the woman gave Nicole a small nod and smile before turning over her shoulder to back out of the driveway.

Nicole watched the small red Jeep disappear down the road with a flurry of snow and dust.

Her phone pinged a few minutes later as she turned on the knobs for a hot shower.

[Waverly says: “I’ve never told anyone about my spot”]

[Nicole says: “I’m honored”]

[Waverly says: “I’m glad I could show you”]

[Nicole says: “Me too. It was worth the trip”]

A series of “…” appeared and reappeared for close to 60 seconds. Just as Nicole gave up and put the phone down to hop in the shower, the device pinged again.

[Waverly says: “So are you”]

[theolddarkmachine]

Kingdom- Chapter Four

Gajeel has had the dream about dying for the blue haired girl for as long as he can remember. Which is weird, since he’s never met anyone with blue hair in his life.

Levy has always loved myths and legends. So much so, in fact, that she was currently getting her master’s in mythological studies.

What neither of them realized was that they were living a legend all their own.

AKA the one with a knight, a princess, and a curse that keeps bringing them together just to pull them apart.

GOOD MORNING Y’ALL! YAY CHAPTER FOUR! Almost right on schedule? The big ol’ italicized portion is Levy reading the story from the book. Yeah. Anyway, not much too say about this one lol The whole beginning is probably one of my favorite things I’ve written, so needless to say, I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT! THANK YOU GUYS AS ALWAYS FOR READING!

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

The cup of coffee tucked comfortably in her hands warmed her palms as she stared down into the swirling foam that formed a minuscule milky way in the brown liquid. Sitting against her arm was the aged book of myths, the feel of the solid tome against her skin giving her some comfort. Levy wasn’t normally one to need something to ground her but sitting across from her wild haired, crimson eyed savior, she felt light enough to float away. As soon as he’d agreed to going to the coffee shop with her as a thanks for saving her life, a bubble of elation had drifted upwards into her chest. The buoyant feeling had fizzled through her body, invading her limbs and her senses until her nerves crackled and popped with it. Gajeel being there was as sudden and jarring as the accident he had prevented. Just ten minutes prior she hadn’t even known who he was, and now it felt as if everything around her was touched by his very existence. His presence alone was enough to leave jagged lines of familiar fascination etched across her skin much like the inevitable scars she would have received if she’d been hit by that delivery truck. A phantom memory danced just outside her grasp, taunting her as it filled her with deep yearning as if her body knew the man sitting confidently across from her. She couldn’t even manage to look up at his garnet colored gaze without feeling as if she was being burnt from the inside by heated desire.

It was, for lack of a better term, annoying.

Levy didn’t like not knowing things, and in that moment she really didn’t know why she felt the desperate need to reach across the two and a half feet of coffee shop table and stroke the handsome man’s face. The pleasant hum of his voice as he answered what he did for a living caressed her sense of sound as she continued to stare into the coffee as if it would bring her the answers she needed. No matter how hard she willed for them to come, they never did. Figures. She lifted the cup to her lips to take a sip, effectively disbanding the foamy galaxy that had decorated her coffee.

“So do you come here often?” Gajeel asked, breaking her concentration. He stifled a laugh as she spluttered into her cup, pink coloring her cheeks and making the golden hazel of her eyes stand out. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

“It depends, if I say yes will you think I have a caffeine dependency?” Levy fixed him with her molten gold stare. If he didn’t know better, Gajeel would have sworn she stared straight through to his heart that was beating wildly against his ribcage.

“Not at all, just curious.” An underlying tone colored his voice, almost as if it were an inside joke that she wasn’t a part of. She watched as he dragged his finger along the Kiwi Tree Cafe logo on his cup with a small smile touching the corners of his lips. A small part of Gajeel wondered where Lily was on this day. A larger part didn’t care.

“Well then I’d have to tell you you’re a bad judge of character, because I do have a bit of a caffeine problem,” she laughed as she took another drag from her own cup. It sounded more like a nervous laugh to her, but if her companion noticed, he didn’t seem to pay it any mind. “You need one to apply to graduate school.” The joke elicited a barking laugh from the man on the opposite end of the table, which caused her pop rock nerves to crackle all over again. With his head thrown back in raucous laughter, she couldn’t help but noticed the way the tan of his skin popped against the grey of the henley he’d revealed when he’d taken his leather jacket off. Her eyes traced the line of his Adam’s apple thoughtfully, drinking him in before his crimson stare landed on her again and burnt down to her bones. The feeling of annoyance continued to combat the feeling of desire that was making a home low in her gut.

They’re conversation continued, bouncing back and forth between them much like a verbal tennis match. When one didn’t think the other was looking, they’d steal glances of them like thieves, only lingering long enough to take what they wanted.

“So ya mentioned graduate school, what’re you studying?” Levy was taken aback by the question. She’d just been in the middle of asking him about his family when he’d shot out the question instead of giving her an answer. A beat passed by as she considered how to answer his question. Most people didn’t care to hear about her major, and when they did ask what it was, they normally didn’t care enough to continue listening about it. Not that it was a boring topic by any means, it’s just that most people had lost their love for the words that Levy held so dear.

“Mythological studies,” she fired back, sitting taller in her seat as she switched into her academic mindset. Gajeel quirked an eyebrow, inviting her to continue her explanation. “I have a theory that myths and legends are all true, they’ve just been twisted in the way their original storytellers were able to explain the things they’d seen.” Levy couldn’t help the excitement that started to creep into her voice. If there was anything that got her blood pumping, it was talking about her studies.

“I’m not sure I follow.” His eyebrows were knit together as he tried to keep up with her enthusiastic chatter.

“Like disease and how it could be explained away as magic,” she said matter-of-factly. “Or,” she paused as she looked down at the book next to her, a spark dancing in her eyes. “Can I show you the subject of my next paper?” All he needed to do was nod for her to grab the book and start leafing through it in search of the tale.

Gajeel marveled at the excitement that was written across Levy’s face as her delicate hands flipped through the pages of the leather bound book she had with her. Pictures flashed by as the pages fell one-by-one as she searched for the myth she wished to show him, some of landscapes, others of animals, one of a particularly familiar black suit of armor. He shook his head to push the image of the armor from this morning out of his mind. Finally, she stopped once she’d found what she’d been looking for, eyes practically glowing as she stared down at the words scrawled across the yellowing paper. A smile parted her lips as she started to speak, reading the words aloud for him to hear. Levy’s voice carried the words like a song he could listen to on repeat.

There once was a fearsome dragon made of iron that was said to wreak havoc on towns bordering the kingdom and killing all that opposed him. It was said his scales were made of black, twisted metal and his eyes were fiery rubies that could paralyze a man with a single glare. There was also once a lonely prince who wanted nothing more than to find a friend that wasn’t blinded but what he could offer as the future king.

The lonely prince was known for disappearing from his kingdom to explore the land, wanting nothing more than to escape the world of responsibility he’d been born into. He told his father it was his duty as the future ruler to know more about the lands that would once be his, but really he had hoped he would meet someone who would befriend him for who he was, and not who he would eventually be.

One rainy day, as luck would have it, he met the iron dragon.

It came as a shock for the prince to find that the cruel iron dragon was nothing but kind as he offered him shelter in his cave away from the storm. The hulking creature wasn’t covered in sickeningly twisted iron like the stories had said, but black steel scales that glittered like the night sky. As the prince entered the cave, the dragon created a small fire for him so that he may dry off and stay warm. Though the dragon kept to himself, the prince felt a kindred spirit within the creature. Once the rain had let up, the prince left with a small thank you and a promise to visit again.

He returned the next day to find the dragon still there, a small fire already burning for him. They sat together in silence again, the prince enjoying the company that the dragon had to offer. As time past, they continued the ritual. Everyday the prince would come to visit, and each day the dragon would wait faithfully with a fire already burning. He would listen as the prince told him of his fears of becoming his father, a man who ruled with fear and anger. Though he never said anything after that first day when he’d invited the prince in from the rain, the iron dragon never gave the prince any cause to fear him or feel as if he passed any judgement on him.

Then one day as the prince was visiting, a band of thieves came upon the cave in search of a treasure that they’d heard the dragon had been hiding. Upon recognizing the prince, they attacked him.

“Imagine how much we could get for the crown prince,” one of the thieves mused as he had rushed towards the young man. Blinded by his lust for riches, the thief didn’t see as the iron dragon launched an attack of his, not noticing until he’d already been enclosed within the dragon’s mouth. As he protected the prince, the young man looked on in awe. It was the only time he’d truly seen the iron dragon live up to the stories, and yet he was not scared. Even with blood staining his shimmering scales, he still saw nothing but his friend. While his friend continued his attack, neither noticed as one of the thieves slipped away and ran to the nearest town.

Once at the town, the thief wove the grandest lie of them all and told the inhabitants that the iron dragon had taken the crown prince. It wasn’t long before the townspeople gathered up weapons and took towards the forest, heading for the dragon’s cave. There they were met with the gore from the thieves attack, and the sight of the prince with blood on his hands as he tried to wipe the muck from the dragon’s scales. The townspeople descended on them, the prince’s cries to stop falling on deaf ears as they overcame the dragon and his friend. Their spears pierced the dragon’s scales, cut deep beneath the protective armor, causing his cries of pain to echo through the cave.

It wasn’t until the dragon lay motionless on the ground that they finally stopped their attack. The prince lashed out, pushing the townspeople away as he ran to his friend. His hand brushed against the dragon’s head, his eyes shut to the world as he laid in his own blood. A fury rose within him unlike any emotion he’d ever felt. The prince flew into a rage, his cry more animal than human as he grabbed a spear that had fallen to the ground before turning his anger towards the villagers. Fear filled cries erupted from the group as he he came down upon them, the light of his madness glowing in his eyes. To them, he looked like a demon; the true personification of death itself.

“My dear friend,” the deep rumbling voice of the dragon echoed through the cave, halting the prince’s assault on the townspeople. It was the first time the dragon had spoken to him since that fateful day.

“Do not punish these people for fearing the unknown.” His breathing came in rasps as he struggled to get air into his lungs. Tears welled up within the prince’s eyes as he approached the dying dragon and placed a trembling hand against his head. “Do not let their prejudices and your anger defeat you. You will be a great king, my dear friend.”

It was the last the iron dragon spoke. With a deep, shuddering breath, his friend died. The villagers watched as the prince cried over the dragon, unsure of how to react to his grief. It wasn’t until the king showed up that the prince stopped, allowing himself to be silently taken back home.

Time passed, and the throne was passed to the prince after his father’s death. Though no one mentioned the iron dragon to the now king again, he carried his friend’s memory with him. The prince became known as a just king and was loved by all in his kingdom, yet he never did find another friend like the iron dragon.

Many years later, the king decided to visit the cave he had spent so much time in with his friend. It looked very much the same, if a bit overgrown with earth and moss. As he stood outside the cave, a glint from inside caught his eye. Very carefully, his picked his way through the vines and moss that had stretched across the opening.

There, within the cave, the king found a sleeping, iron dragon.

Gajeel had let himself become lost in the tale of the iron dragon and the prince. Something in the way Levy’s voice had wrapped around the words had drawn him in. As she had spoken, he could see the very forest the prince had been in when he’d met the dragon in the cave. He could smell the bark on the trees, and could feel the warmth of the burning fire that the prince had felt. Gajeel could even feel the pain of the dragon he had been attacked for protecting his friend. As the story had come to a close, the vivid imagery was replaced by the vision of his other self and the black armor he’d worn. Something about the dragon etched into the armor seemed so befitting of the tale.

Levy shut the book with a light pat to the cover, the sound causing him to jump slightly in his seat. A triumphant smile pulled the corner of her mouth up as she took in the look of awe that was etched across his face.

“You’re very good at story telling.” The compliment won him another smile, this one brighter as she kept the book within her hands.

“I get it from my mother,” she replied simply, her voice soft as she stared lovingly down at the leather cover of the tome. A beat passed between them as he waited for her to speak again.

“So, my theory,” her voice brightened as she changed the subject. “Is that the iron dragon wasn’t a dragon at all, but a person.” She continued as she pushed the book to the side, returning it to its home nestled against her arm.

“It would be so easy for his alias of ‘Iron Dragon’ to be miscommunicated as an iron dragon. Do you know how much could be learned about forgotten history if we could just prove that myths and legends were true stories that had been told incorrectly?”

Without anything in her hands to occupy them, Levy started gesticulating excitedly. Gajeel propped his elbow onto the table and balanced his chin on the palm of his hand as he listened to her wax poetic about mythology and the topic for her paper. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone so passionate about anything before, except maybe Lily over kiwis and coffee. To be honest, he wasn’t sure it was really the same. The air around her practically vibrated with her excitement, and she glowed with the very exuberance that ran through her veins. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch that light. A dull ache settled deep within his bones as he continued to listen to the excited hum of her words.

It wasn’t until the sun sat low in the sky, casting shadows across their long forgotten coffee cups through the large window of the shop, that either of them realized how long they’d been sitting in the cafe. Time had slipped away from them as they had been wrapped up within the easiness of the conversation and the strange familiarity that tugged at both of them. Silence settled over them as the words dried up and they were left appraising each other. A spark of electricity popped between them as their eyes met in a duel of honey and ruby.

“Well, I should probably get going.” Levy broke the eye contact as she tucked her blue hair behind her ear. “Thank you. For saving me.” Her breath hitched as he unleashed his dangerous smile on her.

“It was my pleasure,” he rumbled as he watched her pull her jacket on and wind her scarf around her neck. His heart sank as she stood and picked the book. A small voice in the back of his head screamed at him to keep her there, if only for a moment longer. He pushed the voice down as she smiled at him in response before walking away.

As Levy left, book in hand and scarf pooled around her neck to batter the chill in the outside air, she didn’t notice the way Gajeel’s eyes followed her until she disappeared past the window’s view. As he sat at the table, fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of his cup, he didn’t notice the purple eyes that watched him from the back of the coffee shop.

[failaise]

like real people do p.2 | jungkook

summary: the feelings for your friends with benefits are changing. months pass, and you feel your gut telling you that you want more. you’re just not sure if he feels the same.

college student!reader, friends with benefits!jungkook

piece 1, piece 2, piece 3

this component is based off russ’s cherry hill

“Earth to _____?” 

The vibrating chatter of Sunrise patrons hummed against your skin, lulling you into some state of hypnosis as you pressed a cup of coffee down into the machine. Your eyes were stuck open, staring blankly across at the posters on the brick-styled wall. Fatigue weighed heavily down on your shoulders, a stark reminder that for the past weeks you’d spent your time during the night doing the opposite of sleeping- a bad choice on your part, and you knew it. With heavy eyelids, you forced a long, drawn out blink, tethering yourself back down to the present. 

“Sorry,” you pushed out a laugh and foamed the top of the drink, sheepishly gazing sideways at a coworker. Taehyung stared at you curiously and took the drink from your shaking fingers, which he too eyed suspiciously, then called out the customer’s name. 

“You sure you’re alright?” Taehyung muttered as he walked around your back, letting his sights travel over your rolled jeans and loose-fitting t-shirt. There were no signs of you being hurt anywhere, and he pursed his lips in part worry, part confusion. 

You moved to look at the next given order, forcing yourself to look him in the eye. “Yeah, Tae,” you reassured him, “I think I did too much coke last night, though.” 

Taehyung snorted. You grinned sneakily at him, and began to press another cup of coffee down once again. 

“You can tell me,” Taehyung announced sideways at you as he handed a customer back her cash. The woman smiled softly at him and dropped change into one of the two jars: one reading ‘Mario’ and the other reading ‘Luigi’. The cups changed tip names once a day, depending on whoever was working. Sometimes it was Hamlet vs. Caesar, Jackson vs. Jefferson, etcetera. 

You slid the next mug onto the counter and called out the name. The first syllable rolled off your tongue before it hit you-  who the name belonged to. Raising your eyebrows, you felt your stomach clench with nervousness, eyes wide and surprised as you looked across the room. 

Seated by the decorative board with lists of ads probably decades old was none other than Jungkook. He was still wearing that God forsaken boyfriend-esque outfit, but now there was a beanie pulling his hair back from his face, allowing those curious brown eyes to roam over the posters. The midday sunlight was streaming in through the glass wall, illuminating his tan skin with an angelic haze that made you want to choke the life out of him. And although your fingers twitched to punch his stupidly handsome face, his profile struck a chord within you, reminding you of a time much simpler than this one.

The living room was cold and smelt of pizza and wings, both of which had occupied ample space on the coffee table by your chest. Cross-legged and dressed in only a lengthy, long t-shirt, you chewed at your third slice of pizza ravenously. Beside you, Jungkook watched you out of the corner of his eye, smiling softly to himself when he spotted the smear of barbeque sauce on your cheek. 

“That’sh sho dumb,” you huffed, angrily staring at the television. Jungkook felt his smile turn into an amused grin. You swallowed, and for a moment he thought you would (for once) speak with your mouth empty- at least, until, you tore another piece of chicken off and continued. “Why can’t Leshlie mm Ben jusht dade?” 

Jungkook glanced at the show, where two characters sadly stared at each other across a table, then back to you. He couldn’t help but admire you like this- no makeup, hair a mess and tied back so you could eat easily, his shirt and underwear on. You were a vision with or without looking like this, but he always had a thing for unknown beauty. And while you were confident, you couldn’t have possibly known the things your smile did to him. 

You felt his stare burning a hole into your cheek. Glancing at him oddly out of the corner of your eye, you turned to look at him, finally swallowing. “What?” You demanded, confused. “Something on my face?” 

Jungkook tilted his head to the side, smiling. You furrowed your eyebrows and reached up to wipe your face clean, but his hand shot outwards and caught your wrist before you could. “Yeah,” he lowered your hand, though his other one came around to wipe the sauce off. Your cheek pushed against his fingers, soft and warm and brightening at his touch. 

He stared at your wide, surprised eyes. Although the two of you had been messing around for a month now (he was counting), you still were always delightfully shocked at his actions. Your blush and that bashful look you got was his favorite of your expressions- well, that and your happy one… and your mad one… actually, all of them were his favorite. 

You blinked, gulping. Jungkook leaned forwards on natural instinct, unable to stop himself from feathering his lips against your cheek. Your chest expanded with something indescribable at the gentle gesture, a stark difference from how he’d been only just an hour ago. You remembered the way he looked at you from above you, how he held onto your waist tightly and roughly and panted your name into your shoulder. 

Something warm and soft found your lips. You melted into Jungkook’s touch as you always had, hands moving up to cup his jaw, feeling the structure beneath your palm. Your mouth felt as if it had lit up, eyes closed and everything dark, but your lips were neon red, pulsing in the absence of light like a beacon. Wherever he touched you was vibrant yellow, glowing against the color of your skin, a mental map outlining the dance of his fingers. 

And oh, his fingers….

You blinked, jerking yourself back to the then and now. 

Jungkook jumped to his feet. For a moment, you felt excited- here he was, the boy you tended to obsess over, walking towards you, about to speak to you- but that feeling shattered at the now visible sight of a blonde sitting across from him. Disappointment felt onto your chest, weighing you down against the tile floors. She looked too perfect seated there, with her hair immaculately straight and her eyes a dazzling hue of emerald. If you were Jungkook, you’d probably be with her instead of you, too. 

“Hey,” Jungkook’s pink lips curved into that annoying smile of his. His eyes scrunched up as he reached for the drink, fingers curling around the handle of the mug. He glanced down at the foam design you made out of boredom- a generic, tiny little emblem of a flower. His heart grew warm at the sight of it. 

You reminded yourself to breathe and forced your gaze away, “Hi.” 

He wasn’t an idiot, and you knew that he knew you were avoiding him. The disappointed look on his face said it all, but you had to remind yourself that to him, you were a quick lay and the person he could text when he didn’t do the study packets. “Um, _____, do you think we could maybe-” 

“I can’t tonight,” you looked back over at him with cold eyes. You couldn’t do that- not anymore, not knowing that he’d been with other girls- in other girls. And you knew it was ridiculous of you to feel this way, to even act this way. Jungkook wasn’t yours, he never said he was yours, and vice versa. Yet, your heart had already given itself away, knocking on the closed door of Jungkook’s chest. 

Jungkook blinked. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t going to say-” 

You laughed lightly, bitterly, to yourself, knowing very well that people were watching and Taehyung was nearby to sweep you away whenever he pleased. “You don’t have to talk to me,” you shot back bitingly, “you don’t owe me that.” 

Jungkook wasn’t sure where this was all coming from, but he knew that it hurt. He knew that he didn’t like when you smiled at him like that- not the smile he kept as his hidden wallpaper, but a smile that was all business, that wasn’t his smile, not the one reserved just for him. It wasn’t the sleepy morning smile you gave him. 

Frowning, he glanced backwards to see that Minjoo was watching him now, her head cocked to the side and confusion written all over her face. 

“Hey,” Taehyung’s suddenly comforting voice interjected. Your head swiveled  around in his direction, eyes silently thanking him for pulling you from that delightful conversation. “Can you cover the register?” 

Without so much as a goodbye, or even a glance, you wiped your gloved hands down on your apron and nodded. As you passed by him, you muttered Taehyung a soft “God bless your grandparents” and hurried to punch in your sign-in code. 

Jungkook’s mouth felt dry. The mug in his hand, that tiny little flower, no longer felt warm, but cold. He swallowed, trudging back to his seat, and plopped down in defeat, staring longingly at the dissipating flower as if your face might pop up, all smiles and kind, loving words. He wasn’t sure what he meant to you, now. Maybe he was just a fuck to you. Maybe all that you cared about was his dick and now that you’d gotten what you wanted on more than one occasion, you were done. 

But your smile used to be so warm. 

Now it was so cold. 

“Long day?” Somi wandered into your bedroom. You were unashamed, laid out in nothing but a robe scrolling through Twitter posts. You flashed her a grin and flipped over. 

“Do we have any bleach in the dorm?” You wondered, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m thinking of adding it to the menu.” 

“Bleach frap?” Somi toed over to your bed and fell onto her chest, sighing long and dramatically against the comforter. “I’ll gladly take buy it.” 

There was silence as you counted scuff marks of the popcorn ceiling. You could feel the question on Somi’s tongue, though she never asked it. The tension in the room was tight and high strung, so much so that you were tempted to get up and perform an impromptu rendition of PPAP.

“What?” You finally rolled over, glaring at your roommate suspiciously. 

Somi blinked. “What?” 

“Ask your question,” you huffed, shaking your head in disbelief. Somi glanced away and pursed her lips comically, muttering to herself before she finally sat up. 

“I don’t have a question,” Somi announced with a shoulder shrug. 

You stared at her, “Seriously?” 

Somi casually looked out the window and nodded, “Seriously.” 

“Well,” you scooted closer to her, chewing on the inside of your cheek with squinted eyes, “then what do you wanna tell me?” 

She shook her head, “Nothing, you weirdo.” 

“Somi,” you tilted your chin and folded your arms, as if you were scolding a child. 

“____,” Somi returned. 

“Somi,” you looked at her through the tops of her eyes, hoping that you looked somewhat threatening. 

“I-” 

“Just tell me you fuckhead,” you pushed yourself up to your feet, glaring at her. Somi rolled onto her back and sighed, squeezing her eyes shut and rubbing her face dramatically. You watched as she mumbled to herself, debating over something of which you had no idea about, before she finally came to what seemed like a decision. She dug through her back pocket for her phone and curled her lips into a thin, unamused line. 

Without warning she was tossing her phone in your direction. You quickly caught it, fumbled for a moment, then turned it over to take a look at whatever had been bothering her. 

The picture was of Jungkook- of course, it had to be. You couldn’t have one day where he wasn’t intruding in some way or another, though if you were being honest with yourself you weren’t too torn in seeing his face on your timeline. 

The twitter handle was @minjoowinchmajor, a name you weren’t familiar with, but you were with the picture. It was taken at your job, in your cafe, in the same chair you remembered seeing him sitting at. You assumed the person who had taken the picture was the girl he was with, the immaculate blonde one, judging by the angle. Jungkook wasn’t even looking at the camera, he was staring down into his coffee cup, and you had to wonder if he knew she posted this of him.

The caption read “everyone look at how handsome my man is”, paired perfectly with a cute little pink heart emoji. The fond term coiled your stomach into knots, suddenly turning it into a pro-gymnast on crack. On top of your fatigue now was anxiety, bubbling in the very core of your chest, making it feel tight, like you couldn’t breathe. 

That was his girlfriend? Jungkook had a girlfriend? Since when? Had he been cheating on her with you? You, of all people he could cheat on her with? 

“I know,” Somi sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “They’re such little snakes-”  

“It’s fine.” You locked her phone and handed it to her calmly. 

Somi closed her eyes tight and shook her head, “____, it’s not. He’s an asshole, okay? He doesn’t deserve you.” 

While your insides sparked with an intensity you hadn’t felt in years, with such an anger that your head spun, you moved slowly towards your phone. Somi watched in confusion as you typed out a message, fingers moving carefully and precisely. “What’re you doing?” 

Your thumb hovered over the ‘send’ button. It was such a petty, simple move to send the message. You knew everything you could’ve wanted, could’ve had, would be gone with a simple press of a button. You knew you’d ruin it, whatever you had with Jungkook. But an image formed in your mind- an image that spoke volumes, an image of him and a beautiful blonde girl curled up in bed together, watching movies and listening to music and doing everything you’d ever wanted with him. 

Jungkook made his choice. 

And now you were making yours. 

A mile away, locked inside the boy’s dorm with a brown-haired boy seated on the couch in the living room, Jungkook returned with a bucket of popcorn and a pretend smile. He plopped down besides his roommate, Park Jimin, and was about to press play on the Vine compilation meant to lift his spirits when his phone buzzed in his pocket. 

Jungkook’s heart skipped when he saw the name- one of the only names in his phone, since he never took the time of day to put other people’s names in. 

Jimin watched as Jungkook’s raised, spritely eyebrows fell, how his eager smile faltered and twitched into a straight, blank line. He couldn’t tell what expression Jungkook was wearing, but the boy’s eyes were… were they shining? In the dark, they looked like they were sparkling, and after a beat of confusion he realized they were watering. 

Jimin looked up, concerned. “Dude,” he began, rising to his feet as Jungkook pushed the bowl off his lap and onto the floor. The popcorn spilled like a splatter across the rug. His first instinct was to scold his younger friend, but the curse died on his tongue when the twenty year-old rushed out the front door. 

Eyebrows furrowed, Jimin reached down to grab the phone out of the mess he’d made. 

sunshine: whatever this is, whatever we’re doing, i think it’s better if we end it. im sorry. please dont contact me again. thanks for all the “fun” times. i hope everything goes well for you. 

a/n: also idk why i wrote this all today and why im posting it so soon after the first part but uh…  most likely bc i have two ap tests and an extended essay to write and study for pls pray for me

[melchixr]

Green Eyes and Tea

Anon said:  I love love love your writing!! If it doesn't trouble you, how bout a coffeeshop au prompt?

and then

😅😅😅 forgot to specify that the prompt was for a hernst fic (though feel free to take over with another ship if you'd like I don't mind)

Sorry i’ve been gone forever. Julius Caesar really takes the shit out of me. And i’m applying to California State Summer School of the Arts atm so that’s eating up all my time (if you’re going too HMU but if not just enjoy this fic (finally))

“Okay but, who does he think he is,” Hanschen asked with an annoyed voice.

Melchior looked up from the machine he was cleaning half heartedly and at his coworker. The blond was supposed to be wiping off the counter but his hands had frozen in their place and he was glaring at another man sitting peacefully at a booth. “What?” He asked Hanschen. “Are you talking about me or...?”

“No, I'm talking about HIM,” He glowered, poison in his tone. He pointed at “He comes in here every single Wednesday night at nine and leaves at ten-thirty, thirty minutes before we close. And he just sits in that booth and draws….”

The brunette looked over to the small booth across the room from the counter. He hadn’t even noticed before Hanschen pointed him out. He wasn’t too old, maybe even close to their age, so mid twenties or so. He hadn’t ordered anything, so he was just sitting there in the booth, his eyes cast down at the notepad on the table.

Melchior looked away from the stranger and to the clock, which read 10:20. “Well, I hope he leaves soon…. I have plans tonight.”

“He will, he always does,” Hanschen whispered before going back to work wiping down their workspace.

Hearing the annoyance in his voice, Melchior finished cleaning out the cappuccino machine and slowly walked over to his coworker. “Why does it bug you so much?”

“What do you mean?”

A smirk spread before Melchior continued. “Why does him being here annoy you? He’s not hurting anyone or doing anything.”

Hanschen’s silence and downcast gaze spoke volumes. Melchior just smirked as he put together what was going on. “Oh….so you have a thing for him.”

“Shhh!” He hissed, blue eyes flickering to the stranger to make sure he hadn’t heard. “Shut up, Melchi.”

“I’m just glad he doesn’t come in when we have other actual customers in here. You’d never get anything done.”

The bell at the door sounded, causing both men to look up and notice the stranger just as he was turning to walk down the empty street. The storefront was practically empty now, besides Hanschen and Melchior, who were both watching the man disappear under streetlights.

“You are SO talking to him next week,” Melchior scoffed, I’ll be sure of it. “

The next week was quite possibly the slowest of Hanschen’s life. The wait for Wednesday to come and bring the stranger was almost too much to bear. He thought it would never come. Until he was scrubbing the pastry case at 8:56 on Wednesday night and heard the bell sound.

He didn’t move or look up before Melchior sprung into action, running to a machine and going to work in putting together a drink.

“What are you doing?” Hanschen hissed, now looking over at his curly haired coworker.

But before another word could be exchanged, Melchior slammed a paper cup down onto the counter in front of them.

“Take this to the kid,” He said in a knowing tone. “And try to say something. Anything.”

For a few moments, all Hanschen could do was stare in shock. “What are you-”

“It’s a vanilla latte, because he looks like the vanilla type. It’s also soy just in case he’s vegan or something. And it’s on me.”

Hanschen couldn’t stop to think of what to say to the stranger, he was too ecstatic about the idea of talking to him. He had already imagined what his voice would sound like. Smooth, airy, angelic. But his reply to whatever that voice would say was still sort of fuzzy when he set the drink down in front of him.

The stranger was startled by the movement before pulling out one of his earbuds and looking up at Hanschen with the biggest green eyes he’d ever seen. Now that he was closer, Hanschen could see he must’ve been no older than twenty with freckles covering his entire face and not a single hair on it. Unlike Hanschen, who was now in the early stubble phases of a beard.

And the stranger was thin, with scrawny wrists and a long neck. The thin body just drowned in the sea that was his soft yellow sweater with a few flecks of what seemed to be paint on the sleeves.

He moved a mop of brown waves out of his hair to speak. “Uh...I didn’t order anything.”

“Uh...it's um….on the house,” Hanschen stammered out when he realized he was right. His voice was light and angelic, floating through the air.

He looked up at Hanschen with his mouth upturned into a smile. “Oh….well thanks but….what is it?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” The blond stuttered. “It's a soy vanilla latte….on the house. “

The stranger paused to push a wave of brown hair out of his face. “Wow, this is really really amazing and thank you so much but, I can't drink coffee.”

“What?”

A blush raised to Hanschen's pale face as he continued. “Yeah, I'm allergic.”

Hanschen didn't even know someone could be allergic to coffee. But he didn't ask on. He just felt his cheeks and ears turn pink. “Oh….uh….s-sorry….”

When he came rushing back to the front counter with his gaze cast down and the coffee still in his hand, Melchior looked rightfully confused. “What happened, Hansi?”

“He's fucking allergic!” The older replied in a hushed hiss. “He's allergic to coffee!”

“Who's allergic to coffee?” Melchior scoffed and watched the man stand and hustle out of the store, about twenty minutes earlier than normal.

Hanschen didn't reply, just watched as the stranger walked down the street. His long legs carried him down the street until he was out of view.

Even though Hanschen had only looked at the stranger up close for a few seconds, he felt as though his image was glued to his eyelids. Soft tan skin glowing under the light of the street. Freckles dotted all over his face like comets. He was sure there was something special about that boy.

But why couldn't he think of anything to say.

Not that he could say anything now. Not after he made a complete fool of himself with the vanilla latte. He found himself dreading Wednesdays now, for the first time ever.

8:57. He was staring at his hands like they were foreign objects scrubbing away at the blender. He didn't dare look at the door when he heard it open. He didn't even dare look up after Melchior elbowed him.

“Listen, Melchi, can you close up tonight I think I need to go home earl-”

“Hanschen,  you have a customer.”

When the blond finally looked up, he found himself meeting gaze with the clearest pair of light green eyes he'd ever seen. They were the color of sea foam with flecks of brown around the pupil and they were staring directly at Hanschen.

“Hi,” the stranger muttered. Although his fingers were playing with the lose earbuds hanging from his neck, he kept his gaze locked on Hanschen. All this eye contact was awfully confident for someone that couldn't have been more than 130 pounds. And yet it still made Hanschen's stomach erupt into butterflies. “Is it too late to order?”

After a moment to collect himself and realize that this wasn't a vision or a gaze into an alternate dimension where angels walk on earth, Hanschen replied. “Oh no….of course not! What can I get you?”

“Not for you at least,” he heard Melchior mumble under his break before disappearing into the back room.

“Two medium green teas please.  For here. “

“Anything else?” Hanschen asked as he punched the order into the cashier, knowing full well it was on the house.

“Yeah uh….” The stranger smiled politely before turning what Hanschen almost thought was a shade of pink. “Would you like to come share them with me?”

At first, he had thought he had died and this was possibly all an elaborate dream before his soul left his body. But after a few moments of being alive and fully conscious, he decided that it wasn't.

And the stranger was staring him down waiting for a reply.

“Sure!” He spat out finally. “Let me just uh…make them and….”

“Cool. I'll be in the usual spot,” he almost snickered back. He was just as giddy as Hanschen. Maybe even more. “By the way, call me Ernst. “