#i also had a double shot latte this morning but it was so bad i couldn’t finish it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gayeroticafiction · 5 months ago

Text

Latte' Lawyer

Since living in the city, it had become a twice-weekly routine to head into the market and get my fresh produce. It had also become routine to get breakfast at the Market Cafe. For over ten years, this was my normal routine. I was part of the furniture at that cafe and had a great relationship with the owner, an amazing lady called Kate. She was getting on in years, but still remembered my usual and loved a good chat and a joke.

Well, this particular Friday morning was not much different. I got to the market around 8am, and headed to the cafe, where Kate acknowledged me with a nod before heading behind the counter to get my usual ready. Only thing was, my regular booth was in use. I indicated this to Kate, jokingly, who shrugged her shoulders at me, laughing.

I didn't mind though. I took a seat at another table, where I could look directly at my usual booth. The table of my regular booth was covered in folders, papers and a laptop. Directly behind all of this was the best dressed...and sexiest...guy I had ever seen. He clearly was not a local. Firstly, he sat at my table. Secondly, I had never seen such a well-tailored outfit on a guy at the market.

I continued to discreetly watch him as I waited for my breakfast. He had the tightest tailored pants, covering some very sexy, muscular legs, which led down to some very expensive RM Williams boots. His shirt appeared to be slim-fit, covered by a perfectly fitted jacket. As I watched, he removed his jacket. To my delight, his shoulders, arms and chest bulged in his shirt. Damn, I was instantly hard!

Kate arrived with my breakfast, and I enquired about the guy in my booth.

"Some top-notch lawyer from interstate, here for a big case...and he's out of your league...married...heard him on the phone to his wife earlier" she told me, sniggering.

"You know me too well, Kate. But he is so gay! What's he drinking?" I asked.

"Almond milk latte, double shot" she replied.

"Can you get him one from me" I asked, as she turned to head back to the coffee machine.

"Good luck" she replied over her shoulder.

I continued to watch him and undress him with my eyes. I imagined him sucking my cock and bending him over the table and pounding, what I could only imagine would be, his hot, firm, extremely tight ass.

Kate delivered the coffee to his table and I was amused by the confused interactions. For a lawyer, he didn't get this one very well! Kate motioned over my way, and he looked inquisitively at me. I lifted my coffee to him, and he returned the gesture.

Once Kate had walked away, I stood up and took my coffee over to his booth and sat down.

"You must be visiting" I suggested, "and have lots of work to do by the looks of things."

"Yeah", he replied. "I'm from inter-state, over here working on a case. Just filling in time, before I am called up. The defense aren't quite ready yet!"

"Ah...a lawyer! I hope you don't mind, but I couldn't help noticing how well-dressed you are...and on such an amazing body" I offered.

"I'm not gay" he replied, almost without hesitation.

"I beg to differ", I replied, again, almost too quickly. "I don't think I have ever seen such a tight fitted outfit on any straight guy" I clarified.

"And I'm married", he snapped back, "with our first child on the way".

"Well, that doesn't mean much these days. I was married once too, and have a couple of kids. I soon realised I had made a very bad decisions and things went downhill in our marriage very quickly. But I am glad to say, I am a very happy man now...and you could be too", I told him as I looked down into his bulging crutch.

"I have lots of work to do. Thanks for the coffee, but I must get things done" he said, trying to divert the conversation.

"You can't brush me off that quickly...Kate might think you are as straight as, but you can't fool me. I don't think you'll be called for a while, and I'm sure they have your number if you're needed. How about we go and find out how straight you think you are" I said, putting the ball in his court.

He paused and just looked at me, contemplating my offer.

After what seemed like an eternity, he shut his laptop, piled up the papers and folders on top of it and stood up. Fuck he was gorgeous...and that bulge was much bigger when he stood. He was probably as hard as a rock inside those tight trousers.

Putting out his hand, he introduced himself.

"I'm Chris" he said.

"My name's Craig...and I am guessing we are heading to your hotel" I queried.

"Come with me, Craig" he said as he walked off, his very muscular arms full of paperwork.

As I walked past Kate, I gave a quick wink and she smiled back.

"Don't worry about the breakfast, eating elsewhere this morning" I said with a smirk.

It was only a short walk to Chris' hotel, but the moment we hit the lift and were alone, he made his move. Making one arm free and balancing his gear, he moved his hand to my neck and pulled me too him. Our lips collided and we began to kiss passionately. Before I knew it, his tongue was so far in my mouth and my cock was so hard and leaking in my pants.

The lift came to a stop, and we instantly stopped what we were doing. We had reached his floor, and we made our way quickly to his suite. We walked down the long corridor, and we came to his door. He opened it to one of the most opulent rooms I had ever been in, with absolutely breathtaking views.

But, the only view I wanted was the sight of his hot, naked body. Chris put his paperwork down on the table and we began to kiss again. This time with much more passion, as his two hands were free. Before we knew it, we were both standing there in our underwear.

"Fuck, you are so hot" I exclaimed. "Love to know your workout routine, because it works for you. Your wife is very lucky"

We continued kissing each other for a while before he pulled away.

"I've never done anything like this before" he said, nervously, walking over to the window.

"It's all good. We can take things slow" I assured him.

I moved up behind him, putting my arms around his smooth, muscular body. Fuck, he felt so good. I gripped the waistband of his Versace briefs and slid them down over his tight, round ass. As I slid them down, I got onto my knees so I could take them off of him altogether. Now at eye level with his ass, I began to kiss it. His skin tasted so good...and he smelt amazing. My trunks were dripping wet by now.

As my tongue slid slowly between his ass cheeks, I felt his body shudder and he moved away from me a bit.

"Sorry, I am just so fuckin' nervous" he said.

I immediately went back to what I was doing, as Chris began to relax. He leaned up against the window, resting his head on both arms. I glanced up at him as I began to smell and taste his man cunt. Damn his body was so gorgeous...and his ass I just could not resist. I put my hand down my trunks and took my cock in my hand, stroking it while reaching around his body and taking his cock in my other hand. He was huge and so hard.

Chris began to moan loudly as I pushed my face into his ass, my tongue getting deeper and his ass getting wetter. As I ran my hand up and down his huge cock, I could feel how wet he was, with pre-cum helping me to slide my hand up and down his shaft.

I felt his body shudder again and instantly knew what was happening.

"Oh fuck" he screamed as a huge wad of cum hit the window. "I am so sorry. I didn't think I would cum that quickly!" he exclaimed.

"It's ok. I did the same thing the first time I was with a guy" I replied. "You get used to it and you start to last longer" I said, looking up at him, smiling.

Chris turned around and I was looking straight at the most amazing cock I had ever seen. His foreskin dripping with cum, I moved in and started to run my tongue on the tip of his cock. He tasted amazing, as I slowly pulled his skin back and licked that amazing knob of his. He leaned back on the window, and I began to take his cock into my mouth. He moaned loudly but did not resist. Gently grabbing the back of my head, he guided me on his cock.

"Oh fuck, I'm cumming" he warned me.

I didn't stop. I just kept on sucking him until I felt this cum machine shoot down my throat.

With a mouthful of cum, I stood up and we started to kiss again, sharing his cum with him.

"I want you to fuck me" he said, looking deeply into my eyes.

Although his request took me by surprise, I could see the longing in his eyes. He really wanted this, and I was going to oblige. I took his hand and moved over to the bed, guiding him onto his back, his legs spread wide. God, he looked so sexy. How could any guy resist this?

Chris sat on the bed and I dropped my trunks, which was received with a nervous smile.

Pushing his legs back, I knelt on the bed and slid my cock, dripping with precum, slowly into his tight ass. He was so tight, but tense too.

"Relax" I instructed. "The more you tense up, the more it will hurt to start with. Slow, deep breaths" I explained.

Chris took some deep breaths, and I could feel him loosen up.

I slowly slid my cock into him. The knob first, just slowly stretching him. As he relaxed more and loosened up, I slowly slid my cock in all the way into him.

"You feel so fucking amazing" I smiled at him.

I could not believe he was letting me fuck him raw. He was pretty trusting of this strange guy who just picked him up in a cafe!

"God, it feels so good" he replied. "I never knew it would feel like this" he exclaimed, as I felt his body shudder every time my cock rubbed against his prostate.

His comment only made me fuck him harder. I continued to fuck him, pushing his legs back and resting them on my shoulders. This position helped me to get deeper into him, as he screamed out in pain and ecstasy, looking into my eyes.

"Fuck, you are so tight. I am not far off" I told him.

"Cum in me, but just keep fucking me" he instructed.

How could I refuse? I continued to fuck him, harder and faster.

"Oh fuck....I'm cumming" I screamed out, as I shot my huge load deep inside his virgin ass.

Chris' eyes rolled back as he enjoyed the sensation of my warm load injecting into his bowel. My thrusting began to intensify, as his now well-lubricated ass allowed me to easily slide back and forward and much deeper. I had never been with a guy who made so much noise, and it was such a turn-on. I also joined in.

After what seemed like an awfully long time, and about four orgasms later, I pulled out and rolled to his side. Our hot, sweaty bodies lay limp on the bed as we sighed and breathed heavily, getting our breath back.

"That was the most amazing thing I have ever felt" Chris said, as he looked over at me. "Fuck my ass hurts, but that was so fuck'n good". He rolled onto his side, running his hand over my chest and fondling my nipple. "And you were right...I am actually gay" he exclaimed.

"There's no fooling me mate. I can pick a gay guy a mile off" I said, laughing. "Does your wife know?"

"Fuck no... she'd kill me...or worse.... cut my dick off, if she knew what I did today", fear settling in his eyes. "I only ever had my cock sucked by a guy back in uni. That's the only experience I have ever had with a guy. I have always wanted more, but being gay in my family would have been frowned upon. We need to stick to the norm, if you know what I mean?" Chris began to open up. "And that is the reason why I am doing law...and fuck, I hate it!! But it does keep everyone happy... my dad...my wife".

"Everyone but you" I suggested.

As he lay there and began to open up more to me, I just wanted to kiss him some more and run my tongue over his absolutely gorgeous body. We kissed for quite a while, all the time just exploring each other's naked bodies.

"Will you fuck me?" I asked him. "I want to feel your amazing cock inside me".

With no reply, he encouraged me onto all fours. I took that as a yes. Moving around behind me, his strong hands started to fondle my ass cheeks, before his thumbs opened my crack. It had been a while since I had been with a guy and I was so keen for this.

"Eat me" I encouraged him, as his face made contact with my ass.

He knew what he was doing and got his tongue right into me. It felt so good, and I moaned uncontrollably.

"Oh fuck...that is so good...oh god!!" I exclaimed, my cock absolutely hard and dripping again. "Oh man...fuck me...fuck me hard!" I screamed, just wanting his massive cock to thrust hard and deep into me.

Chris lifted up and I looked back over my shoulder. Fuck he was huge and damn hot. He guided his wet cock towards my willing ass. I felt his wet knob push between my cheeks, spreading me.

"Oh, fuck you have a hot ass" Chris exclaimed, breathing heavily and nervously.

He slid himself all the way into me and it felt amazing. Possibly one of the biggest cocks I had ever felt. He slowly fucked me, sliding the full length of his rod in and out of me. Chris fucked like a man with years of experience...but reached orgasm very quickly.

"Fuck...I'm gonna cum" He cried out.

"Fuck me hard" I screamed, to which he started pumping my ass hard and fast, his huge balls slapping against my own as they unloaded deep inside me.

Stopping as soon as his orgasm was over, Chris held my hips and gained his breath back.

"Oh fuck that was so good" he said, as he pulled me up toward him, my back pressed firmly against his sweaty chest, my ass tightening around his huge tool.

It was like he did not want to pull out, running his hands all over my body and kissing my neck and shoulder. Reaching around my body, Chris took my cock into his hand and started stroking it firmly. It was not long until I shot my load all over his bed.

Chris pulled out of me, and we both lay back down on the bed. We lay in silence, just taking in each other's sexy bodies and contemplating what we had just done. As we lay there, Chris' phone rang.

"I was hoping it would be longer than that before they rang" he said, picking the phone up. "Fuck, it's my wife"!

He answered the phone. "Hey babe" he said sweetly, behaving as if there was nothing at all wrong, but slightly breathless. They chatted for a while and he was so calm. Typical lawyer - full of shit!

Eventually Chris hung up the phone.

"Fuck...now that makes me feel terrible" he said to me as he put the phone down.

"It's all good Chris. She doesn't know...and won't ever know" I assured him.

"But I will know," he replied.

"And we will keep it our secret...here's my number, you can call me whenever you are in town" I said, picking up his phone and entering my details.

We lay on the bed, in each others' arms for quite a while, just catching our breath again. As I looked longingly into his eye, smiling at each other and knowing exactly what the other really wanted, Chris' phone rang again. It was the courts, requesting him to be there in the next half hour. He got up from the bed and went and had a shower, while I watched. He seemed to enjoy me watching him. I stayed on the bed, naked, while he got dressed in front of me. Watching him, he grabbed my Hilfiger trunks and put them on.

"Now that turns me right on" I told him, laying there and stroking my cock in front of him.

"Feel free to hang around and use the room as much as you want. I will probably be all afternoon, so won't be back 'til later today. There is an extra key card on the side table. Come and go as you please. But I would love to have dinner tonight and maybe, if you were able to, you could stay the night?"

I smiled at him, my eyes clearly letting on that I was so keen.

"I would love that. See you later. Maybe call me when you are heading back to the room".

He bent over me, placing his hand around my waist, kissing me passionately. As we kissed, he slowly caressed my cock, stroking it back and forward. He continued until I reached orgasm. Going from my lips to my cock, his mouth took in all of my rod and the subsequent torrent of cum, swallowing every bit.

"Now that will keep me going all afternoon" he said after swallowing every drop.

He stood up and walked out. As the door shut behind him, I began to stroke my own cock, just trying to fathom the amazing morning I had just had and thinking about what might happen later that night.

I could not wait!

An original fictional, gay erotica story by @soyouthinkimstraight, @gayeroticafiction, NW,2024

All images have been taken from Tumblr and deem to be for public use. If any images belong to you and you want them removed, please message me @soyouthinkimstraight or @gayeroticafiction

#latte lawyer #gay fiction #gayeroticafiction

3 notes · View notes

mangora · 3 years ago

Text

Remake of my TD coffee shop orders post with ALL the characters bc I am bugging rn

GEN ONE:

Ezekiel: He drinks plain coffee, possibly with cream and sugar, just bc it’s how he grew up

Eva: If a protein shake is available, I mean obviously she’s taking that, but under regular coffee shop constraints I think she’d do a black coffee, MAYBE a coffee with milk on special occasions. I don’t think she cares about the taste she just wants the energy boost

Noah: I’m kinda conflicted. Bc I think he’d make fun of high-sugar and froofy drinks, but also I think he’d be too self aware to drink black coffee to look cool and he needs the adhd sugar serotonin boost. Maybe I’d go middle ground, have him drink a latte or a mocha. I think he tries to narrowly avoid coffee discourse but just narrowly

Justin: He loves stupid fancy high-detail drinks. He is the fucking joke about the guy who asks you to heat his milk to a certain degree Celsius. He drinks Virgin Irish coffee with nonfat gelato and splenda. Whipped cream towers and wafer straws. I fucking hate this guy

Katie: She likes PSLs and owns it. Go girlboss. And Frappuccinos, if it’s full of sugar she loves it.

Tyler: He doesn’t like coffee, tries to drink skinny lattes or hot espresso and hates them both. He also hates protein shakes. Medicine teas? So bad but he tries. You know what he likes? He likes fruit smoothies and juices. It’s his secret jam. He’s bisexual

Izzy: Redbull, she will not drink any normal liquid, it’s this or monster or like a cosmopolitan at 9am. You take her to a coffee shop? “Yeah can I get a cup of syrup?” They have a primal urge to just, destroy their body. She’s playing chicken with God. Also, hot dog water

Cody: He likes chocolate milk, I feel like this ones obvious, he would cry and shit his pants if he had to drink real coffee

Beth: Also not a big coffee girl, I think even a frappe would be much for her. She’s a juice drinker. Maybe a smoothie drinker? But I think she’d be happiest with like an orange or apple juice box

Sadie: Obviously a Frappuccino or fancy latte like Katie, twinsies, etc. but I do think she’d be insecure about ordering one without Katie

Courtney: Soy milk macchiato, or like an espresso or red eye with a dash of soy milk. Whatever, lots of coffee and a little soy milk so she can technically claim she’s not a neurotic coffee addict. She would just do crack if she was a little more deranged

Harold: He likes those fucking anime sodas those piss me off for no reason. But fr do I think he’d be a coffee snob and order like a “piccolo latte” at a Dutch Bros. Leshawna almost kills him for it. Duncan does kill him for it

Trent: Hot take: Trent’s a tea guy. He likes white or green, maybe with some nut or oat milk. I would say matcha but honestly i feel like it would be too heavy for him. He’s not a drink girlie he just likes water usually but if he sees a good tea shop, he’s like “ah what the hell”

Bridgette: She would be a refresher or iced fruit tea enjoyer. Especially like cistrusy drinks. Maybe, on like holidays, every other leap year, she would get oat milk or soy milk with like a half shot of espresso

Lindsay: Nonfat caramel macchiato, maybe blended with ice. She likes basic sweet coffee drinks and you know what? She deserves it

DJ: I think he’d be a big juice guy, especially like green juices. I could see him getting a latte or cappuccino with, say it with me everyone, plant milk, but idk. I don’t think he’s super picky

Geoff: Once again I don’t think he’s picky, but I do think he’d be a day drinker, like he’d order a Long Island iced tea in the morning with a fake ID or he’d pour vodka into a latte. I could also see him ordering a frappe or maybe even an egg coffee.

Leshawna: HOT TAKE: I think she’d really like an affogato. It’s creamy, it’s sweet, and she deserves a treat with a bit of a kick

Duncan: This will be a theme in here: he pretends to like black coffee but doesn’t. At least, it’s not his favorite. He’s actually more fond of sweet cold brews.

Heather: I know Duncan had his “double caramel macchiato” line but I personally think Heather would like French Vanilla coffee, AND she’s a bean snob. She needs a rich ass ristretto made from good beans, she can taste bean quality. Like honestly she owns a French press and probably a cezve too. She also likes Turkish coffee most.

Gwen: I do not care what base coffee she gets I do not care what flavor, I do not care what proportion she gets milk to coffee; but I know, with all my heart, she likes OAT MILK. And her coffee is ICED. She thinks the oat milk makes her special. She takes her Prozac with it. But she is not special, she’s just gay.

Owen: Owen likes many things but I do not think coffee is one of them. He likes starbucks vanilla frappuccinos.

GEN TWO:

Staci: She’s definitely a boba girl, but honestly i think she’d be fine with most teas. She likes them with milk and fruit because it makes them look special and makes her look cultured

Dakota: I still hold true to the idea that she’s a seasonal drink enjoyer, but also she loves anything iced coffee. Especially white mochas, sweet = good

B: I still think they’d like plain teas because they’re calming and not too sweet, but I don’t think they’d turn down a plain coffee. I just don’t think they’d get super hyped on it

Dawn: Definitely a matcha liker. Also only drinks plant based milks and creamers, if she uses any at all. I don’t think she’d turn down any other tea though, they might like floral or fruity ones. He and B have tea enjoyer solidarity

Sam: Of course he’d prefer G-Fuel and just general energy drinks over everything, but if he was at a proper drink shop I think he’d take his coffee with milk and sugar. It’s not a big deal if he can’t get them, caffeine’s the priority, but he’d prefer them

Brick: He tries to drink espresso to contend with Jo and his military bros, but I think he’d really like fruit smoothies or fruity teas (maybe one with orange peel or vanilla) if he was allowed to have them

Anne Maria: Caramel Macchiato, easily, she likes it extra and she likes it sweet. I however retract my statement about her liking frappuccinos, I think she’d call them a pussy drink

Mike: He likes a generic vanilla iced coffee because he’s, you know, Mike, but I also wouldn’t be surprised if he put a little shot of whiskey in his morning cup for a little audacity

Chester: Black tea with lemon. He’s a tea guy, said what I said. Bitter, sour, easy. Also he probably couldn’t afford milk and sugar as a kid

Svetlana: Honestly I don’t think she’s a real drink girlie either, considering how she likes to stay in shape and also I don’t think she’d like the taste of coffee/tea. Maybe she’d like juices? Like with strawberries and mangos and greens.

Vito: Ristretto buddy, this guy can take down the nastiest bitterest tasting coffee and not even blink. It does make him bounce off the walls tho

Manitoba: I think he’d like an espresso/doppio, maybe a flat white? He just downs it, doesn’t care about the taste much. He’s eaten worse probably he’s like “hey it’s not dirt! woop woop!” and drinks a whole pot and runs around and picks up a squirrel with his teeth and dies

Mal: Normally I’d say black because “ooo he so edgy” but honestly I think he’d like a brown sugar latte or a cup of chai. He likes the flavors, strong flavors. That or Monster because he’s insane

Jo: Black coffee, but not for any like status reasons. It just tastes good to her

Scott: He only drinks shitty instant coffee, usually without sweetener or cream bc he didn’t have them growing up. It’s always boiling hot. And he hates every other drink.

Zoey: She does like a good iced coffee but I think she much prefers milk teas (esp with boba). Also I think she likes the Starbucks pink drink and Mal bullies her for it

Lightning: He would like a protein shake if it’s available, not a fan of coffee or tea. Maybe he’d drink a juice or smoothie but it would have to be heavily vegetable and/or spice based.

Cameron: The taste of coffee would kill him, and he’s grown up scared of milks and sweet drinks and nuts bc his mom only let him drink water out of fear of him developing diabetes or something. I think maybe Zoey and Mike would slowly warm him up to something lighter like green tea.

GEN THREE:

Beardo: He likes lavender tea with lemon and honey, it soothes his voice

Leonard: I think he’d like herbal teas and fruit juices, they’re like potions

Amy: I don’t know, maybe a white chocolate mocha or frappe? But I do know she screams at the baristas!

Rodney: I hold true to the fact that he memorizes everyone’s orders, rehearses his own order, and will drink whatever to be included— BUT I think his preference is fruit smoothies. He’s just too afraid to order them.

Sammy: Frappucinos, fruit teas, juices, milk teas, anything cold and sweet basically. She doesn’t really like coffee though

Ella: Similar to Sammy, likes strawberry-flavored drinks especially. They make her feel like a princess.

Topher: Latte macchiato. On a technical level he’s a bean snob also and specifies the beans he wants every time he orders, but he can’t taste the difference and honestly likes the cream better than the coffee.

Dave: Makes fun of “basic girl” coffee orders. He gets black coffee and hates it. He truthfully doesn’t like any drinks. Maybe a seltzer water.

Scarlett: A plain tea enjoyer. Peppermint, ginger, black; not a fan of fruity ones though.

Max: Plain milk, and it’s fucking gross

Jasmine: She likes savory or bitter drinks, mostly black coffee with cream but no sugar. I think she’d also like chai.

Sugar: An anti-tea advocate. But she does like instant coffee with sugar, a similar situation to Scott. And maybe she’ll drink straight half-and-half.

Sky: Likes green juices and ginger tea, she needs that health boost but isn’t a fan of protein powder or black coffee.

Shawn: He likes black coffee, but is trying to cut back on it because it makes him neurotic. I don’t think he’d really like any other drinks much.

GEN 4:

Tammy: Same as Leonard, but I also think she’d like boba and even some of the fruity Monsters

Pete: He’s way too proud of drinking pure black coffee because he’s an old man

Gerry: He one-ups Pete by drinking pure vodka because he’s petty

Ellody: She likes kombucha and will tell you all the gut benefits

Mary: Green tea, 100%. She likes how calming it is

Laurie: Chai tea, she thinks it’s like spiritual or some bs, and gets mad when people question her tastes

Miles: Matcha, she says a lot of bs about “extracting the earthy notes”. Has it really together here

Tom: Iced coffee as hell. You know him, pretentious

Jen: Smoothies, so many smoothies, and they taste so strong

Taylor: Has the most detailed coffee order. She tells you the temp, the order to pour it in, the five different syrups she wants, what milks to mix together, and she doesn’t tip you when you make it.

Kelly: Wine. She says wine every time you ask her what she wants to drink. She thinks it’s funny. It’s not

Jay: Has to drink water because he’s allergic to everything else

Mickey: Drinks that gross thick water stuff bc Jay doesn’t want him to aspirate and die or something

Chet: Muscle Milk

Lorenzo: Also Muscle Milk

Rock: Monster, and it makes him nuts

Spud: Monster, and he feels totally normal, and just drinks it for the taste

Dwayne: Says he likes straight black coffee, actually drinks coffee with cream and sugar in a closed cup

Junior: He’s not allowed to drink coffee or tea he just gets apple juice (he pretends it’s beer)

Ennui: Drinks cranberry juice and says it’s blood

Crimson: Drinks cranberry juice also and, get this, says it’s blood

Stephanie: Won’t go to drink shops bc she’s certain she can make her own drinks better than the shops can (she can’t)

Ryan: Protein shake again, if you fuck up his order he won’t say anything he will deal with it himself and drink the whole thing to avoid hurting your feelings

Devin: Tries Red Bull to impress people and throws up; he really likes mint tea

Carrie: Tries to drink tea and coffee for the aesthetic but the only drink she really likes is lemonade

Kitty: She doesn’t even go for frappucinos it’s just milk shakes and Virgin strawberry daiquiris, and she deserves it

Emma: A cortado. Tries not to go overboard and doesn’t like the taste of coffee too much. But she’s definitely had days where shes shoots like ten espressos and disassociates

Josee: French-press ristretto, she takes one cup every morning to remind herself that god is dead and give herself that angry passion for ice dancing

Jacques: Tries to drink a different tea every morning to see if they can calm him down; they do not work

Brody: He tries a new drink every day and usually only likes the fruity ones. Has definitely gotten food poisoning this way. Did drink bath water once

Sanders: Normal iced coffee. She’s…normal. Kind of.

MacArthur: A smoothie with peanut butter in it. Loves her gains, loves her nut butters

HOSTS:

Chris: I mean we all know, hot chocolate and tomato juice. I do think in terms of personality though he is a latte-drinker and bean snob

Chef: He likes himself a nice cold fruit drink. A virgin piña colada maybe. Or that shitty unicorn frappucino. But he also still likes a good shitty espresso

Blaineley: Iced tea. Hot take I think she fears most coffee drinks, which is sad, but accurate.

Josh: Idk does he have a personality? Sparkling juice in a champagne flute (carries it in his pocket everywhere; he has big pockets)

Don: A warm mocha, but tries not to make a big deal out of it (he does not succeed)

Like and follow for more epic content this took me several hours

EDIT I FORGOT ALEJANDRO AND SIERRA HOLD ON

Sierra: Anything super sugary and super caffeinated. I know she loves the pink Monster. But at a coffee shop, probably a caramel macchiato or a mocha Frappuccino

Alejandro: Usually he drinks a really pretentious brand of espresso or ristretto, maybe a chai, but once in a while he has a cheat day and has a caramel or cinnamon latte

#alex’s td rambles #total drama #lost the plot towards the end but what can you do #long post #should have a ‘read more’ but it might not work so #sorry if it doesn’t!

69 notes · View notes

gyeomsweetgyeom · 4 years ago

Text

mr. worst cup

CollegeBarista!Jaemin x Reader

summary: Jaemin messes up your order and in turn messes up any chance at any sort of relationship with you (or so he thinks)

word count: 4.3k

A/N: I really hope you guys like it!

Taglist! @eggbutnotyolk

Mornings, Jaemin hated them. Yes, that was beyond cliche, but it was the truth. Especially right now. At approximately 7 am, Jaemin also hated being awake, Jeno, being cold, people, Jeno again, and work.

Jaemin and Jeno both worked at a cafe near campus where Jeno worked the morning shift, had time for a quick workout, then went to school, all because he enjoyed mornings. On the other hand, Jaemin hated mornings, so he slept in, went to class in the afternoon for a few hours, and then came to work in the evenings. It was a schedule that just worked for the both of them, no downsides- usually.

But Jaemin was not in the comfort of his bed, dreaming, drooling, and snoozing away like he could have been this morning. No, he was working Jeno’s shift because Jaemin was the best friend on the planet and he would do anything for Jeno anytime Jeno wanted- no. Jeno had woken up with a high fever and a sore throat, and it was easier to wake Jaemin, his roommate, to ask for him to cover his shift than to text another coworker. Anything for the health of the general public, gag, Jaemin hated how nice Jeno was sometimes.

So after opening at a bright and early 6:45, helping only one customer in the 45 minutes that he had been open, Jaemin was starting to feel that anger from being up so early. He should have some coffee to give himself energy and help with the anger, but his brain just couldn’t seem to send the signals to his limbs to make him move. His eyes were locked on all the empty tables and chairs of the cafe, tables and chairs that were always filled during his normal evening shift. The emptiness paired with the godforsaken jazz song playing over and over and over again were driving him insane. After a five-minute war between his mind and body, he got to work making a drink for himself. His specialty iced americano with his precious eight shots of espresso. His priceless, liquid gold. He was so concentrated while making his drink that he didn’t even hear the door open to reveal his second customer of the day.

“Oh my god, Jeno! Eight shots?” He heard a voice exclaim. “Oh, you’re not Jeno, I’m so sorry.”

“Just a minute please, I’ll be right with you,” Jaemin replied.

He couldn’t keep you waiting forever, so he set his prepared drink aside and made his way to the customer at the counter. Oh, this cute customer. He quickly turned to the register, asking you for your order with a polite smile.

“Just a medium iced caramel latte with almond milk, double the caramel drizzle, and an extra shot please.” You recited your order.

He nodded, took the money, and began working on your order, but unfortunately, his mind was not on your order. He just wanted a sip of his coffee, for the energy to kick in. His body was craving it, the taste, the energy that would make him feel normal, like a human. He could have gotten a quick sip in if the bell over the door hadn’t distracted him. Another customer, same routine: smile, I’ll be right with you, finish one drink, new drink to make. He distractedly reached for the cup on the counter, calling out your name before turning to the new customer.

You approached the counter hesitantly, this did not look like your drink. The bell over the door sounded again and again as you hesitantly reached for the drink that was supposedly yours. You could just ask him to remake your drink, but the line was getting longer with the morning rush beginning and you had to get to class soon. That and you would feel awful asking him to waste supplies to make a simple drink again.

Okay, you reassured yourself, hopefully, this wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe this barista just makes it differently, much differently, than Jeno does. You grabbed the drink and a straw, calling out a “thank you” as you walked out of the cafe. Stopping beside a trash bin you unwrapped the straw and took a sip of the pitch-black drink. Your face scrunched up in disgust, you could barely fight back the urge to spit out the coffee, no matter how hard your body was screaming at you to get it out.. You could not bring yourself to even look at the poison in hand so you tossed it into the bin, what a sad waste of money and his work.

The next morning you walked in a little later, as your first class of the day had gotten canceled. You joined the line, looking at the menu because you could not and would not order your usual today. Normally you wouldn’t have to look at the menu, Jeno knew how to make your drink perfectly, but Jeno was not there. The take on your drink yesterday had scarred you, perhaps a hot tea today.

“Hello, the caramel latte again today?” The same barista from yesterday asked. Where the hell was this guy getting “again” from?

You smiled almost apologetically with a hint of apprehension, “No thank you, just a mint green tea with honey please.”

He nodded, tapping away on the tablet, taking your money, and getting straight to work. The bell over the door became the background noise as the rush of professionals and early risers came in for their morning caffeine fix. Jaemin looked at the clock quickly, just 10 minutes before another coworker would show up to help him, this rush was too crazy. He quickly stirred the honey into the cup, called your name, and got to the counter to continue taking orders. It was too bad he didn’t get to make more conversation or look at you longer. Not in a weird way, he felt like he had barely had a chance to even get a glance at you today.

You had barely made it on time to class, sliding into your seat just a minute before your professor walked in and began a quick review of your last class. You sat back with a sigh, taking a sip of your warm drink.

Well, this was odd, your tea didn’t taste like tea at all. Maybe it was just the first sip? No, the next sip tasted like nothing but honey. Confused, you took the lid off the cup to take a look, only to be met with the sight of steaming water mixed with honey-no tea in sight.

After class, you sent a quick text to your usual barista and friend, Jeno, to let him know that you had notes for him. Time to carry on with your day, sadly caffeine-free.

Jaemin had had no idea that he had messed your drinks up so badly. When he had given you his americano the rush had just come in so when he went to look for his drink later he had figured that his coworker had just accidentally tossed it. The second day, he could blame the rush again. He had haphazardly tossed a tea bag in the general vicinity of the cup before passing it in your direction. So it came as a surprise to him that for the rest of the week that he covered Jeno’s shift, the cute customer that came in right before the rush, that would be you, had stopped coming in. It was a shame, but he could continue on with his life with little to no regret. Maybe he would see you again or maybe another customer would catch his eye. There was no use in dwelling on something he had no control over or wasting time letting his mind run wild with anxious thoughts of why you hadn’t come back.

That was until he came home one day a week later to find Jeno on a loud call. Jeno smiled and quickly mouthed to Jaemin that he was on the phone with a friend. “Jeno, I’m telling you. That was the worst coffee I have ever tasted. Never in my life have I had a drink that could be used to run a car. I just don’t understand how you could mess up a caramel latte that bad.” He heard.

Caramel latte? The voice sounded familiar but he was hopeful that maybe, just maybe it wasn’t you.

“And the next day, god Jeno, I ordered a tea because I was so nervous to order a coffee and all I got was hot water, then I stopped going until you went back.” It was you, This was the worst-case scenario and it was you, the cute customer that he had developed a tiny, little crush on. He tried to remember how he had made your orders, and he swore he made them the way he asked. But how was he supposed to remember anything correctly when he was up before 10 every day and coming in contact with a hundred people?

“Yeah, I can do Friday morning, see you then.” Had Jaemin missed the rest of the conversation? It seemed so.

“So Mr. Makes the Worst Cup of Coffee, how was your day?” Jeno smirked.

Jaemin scoffed, “We don’t even know if it was me.”

Jeno burst out laughing immediately going to explain that those were the days that he was sick while Jaemin yelled over him stating that perhaps, perhaps, it was another barista you were talking about. But they both knew that no one else that worked in the cafe drank anything nearly as strong as Jaemin’s iced americano. Jaemin sighed having clearly lost the argument, “How do you know them anyway?”

“We’re the same major,” Jeno answered with a simple shrug. Maybe it wasn’t too late for a change in major.

This customer was so close to home and he had somehow ruined one of the things he prided himself on. He was so proud of his barista abilities, it was a passion of his. Customers constantly came back for his drinks specifically, left him tips (for his drinks or looks- he didn’t care), asked when Jaemin would be back on his days off, and he had gotten employee of the month a few times.

After that night, you had not left Jaemin’s mind. It was like all he could think about was you. When he saw Jeno, every day, he wondered if Jeno had seen you. When he woke up every morning he remembered that you were up early, bright-eyed and ready to take on the day. At work, he constantly wondered if maybe you would come in and order something. Walking across campus he wondered if he maybe had a class in the same buildings as you. At this point, it was no longer a little crush on the cute customer that came in twice a couple weeks ago, it was a crush on a friend of a friend, someone that he could actually potentially meet one day.

Maybe he could run into you on campus, leaving the library after studying so hard that he could offer to buy you a cup of coffee. There could be a party soon that the two of you would magically bump into each other at where he could blow you away with his bartending skills. It was such a weird thing for Jaemin to experience, imagining what might be with someone he didn’t know beyond being a customer. He had been in relationships before but never had there been a person that consumed his every thought.

Granted the day after the call, Jaemin did feel a little- or really a lot of anger towards you saying he made the worst cup of coffee that he did actually let his anger fuel his day. He was flipping violently through textbooks, punching away at the keys on his computer, nearly ripping through sheets of paper with the pressure of his pencil. He didn’t like this feeling, he had to remind himself to calm down and take deep breaths. No one had ever made him feel this angry, if it was even anger that he was feeling or maybe just sadness poorly masked as anger. That made much more sense, it really did pay off to have taken that psychology class his first semester.

You had become so involved in every part of Jaemin’s day that he just wondered if in this very moment he was imagining you walking out of Starbucks while he sat at a red light on a sunny Friday morning. Had his mind become so powerful that he could now make things and people appear out of thin air? He hadn’t tried that since he was a kid, but maybe he had just become more powerful. It couldn’t be you though right? He knew there was no way he had super powers, but there was also no way it actually was you, it would be the biggest coincidence. He rolled down the passenger side window, leaning closer to the sidewalk where you were walking towards the parking lot and gasped when he realized that his imagination was in fact, not playing tricks on him, it really was you.

“Are you cheating on us?!” He screeched. Uh oh, he wasn’t supposed to say that out loud. The stupid mermaid was just staring at him mockingly, he couldn’t stop himself from saying it. It was the worst word vomit he had ever experienced.

You stopped and squinted trying to look at who had just yelled at you, lucky for you Jaemin was still in shock from actually yelling that he was frozen still with a hand clasped over his mouth. Yup, that would be the person that yelled. You looked him dead in the eye and took a long sip of the drink in hand. “Tastes better than yours.” You cheekily called back.

Jaemin’s jaw dropped, he was so ready to defend his barista title, his locally-owned cafe, but the car behind him seemed to think the opposite thanks to its incessant honking because the light had been green for more than 10 seconds. Once again, you had plagued his thoughts, not necessarily in a good way though. You had betrayed him-no, you hadn’t but he was dramatic.

He could at least spend some time away from you, it’s not like he saw you out in public very often, ever saw you on campus, or came in during his shift. He was lost in his thoughts as he walked through the door to his apartment. He heard Jeno laugh, then a new voice. Very odd, but he put on a smile and reminded himself to be polite.

“Hi- oh you,” Jaemin said.

“Nice to finally meet you properly, please don’t yell at me again.” You smiled playfully.

Jeno’s eyes widened comically in shock, immediately interrogating Jaemin. Why would Jaemin think it’s okay to yell at someone he doesn't know? Much less one of Jeno’s friends. Jaemin really did try to defend himself, but every time he tried to make a point it just didn’t make sense. He sounded so stupid. “I am so sorry about him.” Jeno apologized, elbowing Jaemin’s rib.

“I’m sorry too, it was inappropriate and rude of me to yell at you.” Jaemin recited. This was not the first time he had had to apologize for yelling at someone in public.

You waved the both of them off, “I was messing around, it’s nice to match a name to a face.”

Jaemin made his way to his room like a scolded child while you and Jeno returned to the screens in front of you, already typing away before the bedroom door even shut. Jaemin made a promise to himself that he would stay in his room until you left. There was no way that he would go out there and risk even more embarrassment in front of you, not just the customer he had a small crush on but the innocent pedestrian he yelled at that very morning. His mind was swirling with regret and thoughts of how badly he had messed up any chance he had with you. He could not go out there and ruin any remaining chance of friendship or even acquaintanceship, or even risk you going to Starbucks every day and never going back to the cafe. Half an hour later he pulled a pillow over his face to muffle his groans, these thoughts were making him crazy, one groan from his throat and a rumble from his stomach. There was no way he could wait until you left now, he had to get food.

Jeno looked up as the door opened, “Right on time, does chicken sound good for dinner?”

Jaemin nodded, ready to turn back and relax on his bed but instead he lingered in his doorway. He ignored the nerves in his stomach and decided that the best decision as a host in his home would be to not leave you alone while Jeno called in the order. Even if he did think you were a little bit of a treacherous snake- from a business standpoint of course.

He cleared his throat, effectively grabbing your attention, “So uh, what are you guys working on?”

“Jeno and I are partners for a project in a communications class so we have to analyze a bunch of sources and then explain why the audience could interpret each source in different ways.” You answered simply with a shrug, as if you had just told him how to make toast.

“Well that’s cool…”

It was now or never. He could talk to you now and clear the air in hopes of perhaps forming a friendship or he could stay quiet and try his best to enjoy the awkward environment. He let out a breathy, nervous laugh, drawing your attention back, “So I think I heard you say I make the, what was it? Oh, the shittiest cup of coffee you’ve ever had.”

Your eyes widened, “No, no, no! I didn’t say that exactly, I did say though, it was the worst coffee I ever had.”

“How badly could I have messed up your order? So badly that you had to go to Starbucks apparently.”

“I had ordered an almond milk caramel latte and received a coffee with not only no milk at all, so it wasn’t even a latte, but also no form of sweetness. On top of that, I had one sip at the beginning of the day that kept me awake and energized until midnight. And! You gave me tea with no tea. Surprisingly though, you are not the worst barista in the cafe.” You responded with a playful roll of your eyes.

Jaemin choked on his spit, “What do you mean? I remember the first day you came in while I was making my coffee… you got my coffee.” He dropped to his knees, “Forgive me, please.”

You threw your head back with a laugh, “Get up, I’ve already forgiven you. Jeno talks about you a lot, so I was actually looking forward to meeting you anyway, even if we did start off on not so great terms.”

“They said about 20 or 30 minutes, you good?” Jeno asked as he reentered the room.

You smiled with a nod, “We’re becoming the best of friends.”

Jaemin blushed, ready to get your attention off of him, “So, you said I don’t carry the title for worst barista.”

“Wait really? Who is it then, best to worst go!” Jeno exclaimed.

“First, is your owner, Johnny, right? Man, he makes a delicious caramel latte, the best I have ever had. Next, I guess would be Ren-”

“Renjun?!” Jeno and Jaemin interrupted.

“Well yeah, he’s super nice and added caramel syrup to the milk I think? Not sure, it was really good, and he added the cutest little drawing on my cup. You guys aren’t last or anything though, Haechan is.” You told them with a shudder.

You all burst out laughing as you recounted the time that Haechan had yelled at you while taking a phone order and ended up sliding a half filled, kids size cup of water across the counter with your name. Another time he was so busy flirting with another customer throughout the whole process of taking and making your order that he had given them your drink too and just given you a pastry instead. Jeno told you guys about a time that Haechan had poured coffee beans on the floor, not once or even twice, but three times in one four hour shift. Jaemin added his own story where Haechan had convinced a handful of customers that they were out of coffee until Johnny came in from the back with a bag of coffee beans.

You all wiped the tears from the corners of your eyes as you tried to catch your breaths from laughing so hard. Jeno sat up when he heard a knock on the door. It was probably the delivery man.

Jaemin looked over at you, a happy smile still on his face. “You know, I would really like it if I could actually make it up to you.”

“Free coffee?” You asked excitedly.

He laughed awkwardly, “Uh no, I uh, um- I think you’re really... cool?”

“This is fucking painful. Jaemin thinks you’re cute and this is his lame attempt at asking you out on a date.” Jeno jumped in, setting the bag of food on the dining table.

You flushed, immediately feeling hot, “I would actually really like that.”

The dinner was clouded with awkwardness, little glances here and there paired with a little conversation. Now that you both knew you at least kind of liked each other, and were interested in one another there was no way he could ruin his chance by saying something embarrassing. All the conversations were basic, surface-level, first day of class icebreaker, boring. What’s your major? What do you want to do with your major? What year are you? How long have you and your best friend since birth lived together?

“Maybe it was better when you hated each other, I can practically feel the tension.” Jeno sighed, reaching his hands forward to “grab” the tension. Maybe Jeno would eat his words when the sparks began flying after the first date, maybe. Yeah, probably.

BONUS

“I’ve had a really good time with you.” Jaemin smiled down at the ground. The blush on his cheeks was hot while your hand in his was warm.

“I’ve had a great time with you too, you really made up for all your little mishaps.” You replied.

Jaemin laughed, “Which reminds me, I have to finally show you that I am in fact the best barista, ever. Would you mind if we stopped by the cafe?”

You shook your head, holding his hand tighter on the walk to the cafe. He held the door open for you and guided you towards an empty seat close to the counter so you could both still talk to one another.

“Welcome! Oh, Jaemin was this your date? I’ve seen you here before right? I’m Johnny, the owner.” Johnny greeted with a smile.

“Nice to meet you too, I love your cafe. Jaemin is making me a replacement drink since he ruined the first couple of drinks. He doesn’t have to, but he practically insisted.”

“And you didn’t call and complain? You must have really liked him.” Johnny laughed.

You couldn’t fight the heat creeping up your neck, so you quickly looked away from the owner standing in front of you to avoid more embarrassment.

“Ah, I’ve never made you this nervous! Here is your iced caramel latte with almond milk.” Jaemin teased as he set the drink in front of you. He looked at you expectantly, awaiting your verdict.

You took a sip, pleasantly surprised with the familiar taste of your favorite drink. “It’s so good! Thank you.”

“Better than Johnny and Renjun?” Jaemin asked.

“Maybe stop the questions while you’re ahead buddy, there’s no way it could be better than mine. Hope to see you soon.” Johnny smirked as you both left.

Jaemin pouted the whole way back to your apartment, you had to reassure him that it was so good that soon he would get sick of seeing your face around the cafe.

He stopped in front of your door, “I don’t think I could ever get sick of your face, so I would really like to take you out again.”

“I would really love that, goodnight Jaemin.” You smiled, pulling him in for a hug before making your way inside.

Jaemin smiled, stepped back from your door and slowly began to make his way home. Walking slowly as his thoughts were filled with date ideas, your face, and just how amazing you truly were. He was so in his head that he didn’t even realize you had come back out to see him again until he felt you tug on his wrist so he could face you.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked breathlessly.

He smiled widely, nodding energetically as he placed a hand on your waist to pull you closer, inviting you to do as you please. Your hands came up to the nape of his neck, nervously playing with his hair before you finally pressed your lips to his own. A short but passionate kiss, it was like your lips were made for one another.

“I’ll see you soon, text me when you get home.” You told him bashfully, holding onto his hand until it eventually fell from the distance between you two. He agreed, locking eyes with you until you were out of his sight and there was no possibility of you ever leaving his mind. Sparks indeed.

#kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop au #kpop reactions #jaemin scenarios #jaemin fic #jaemin imagines #jaemin x reader #jaemin fluff #nct #nct dream #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct au #nct dream au

356 notes · View notes

sif-the-tsunami · 4 years ago

Text

The Caffeine Cleric’s shenanigans

Look, I have 100% been wrong before on someone’s coffee order. But, my favorite game to play at work is guess the person in line’s order. These are the drinks I think HC character’s would order. This is meant to be silly. And this is only the characters I’ve seen. I know that Cold Light of Day is on youtube, but your girl needs to have more time on her hands to watch it.

August Walker:

That dude has a pour over system at his home, he only grinds his beans the morning he makes it, they are sealed in an airtight container. He drinks it black. If they go out, he’ll order a nonfat cappuccino.

Captain Syverson

In the field, they will get little packets of dehydrated coffee crystals. They fucking suck. He drinks them though because if you have any idea what MRE’s do to your gut, you need all the help you can get. When he came home from deployment, his girlfriend got him hooked on iced coffee. Now that they’ve split he started drinking cold brewed iced coffee, with a dairy alternative. No one on the fort is stupid enough to give Syverson grief about ordering coconut milk. One of the baristas taught him how to make it himself, so he now has a set up in his fridge. He will let it sit in his fridge for 48 hours before he removes the coffee grounds. He will also drink it without cutting it. If he has too much he feels like he can hear colors, but that just might be the tinnitus in his ears.

The girls that work at the coffee house all want him. The barista that brags about banging definitely hasn’t though. In fact, she kind of scares him.

Napoleon Solo

This man orders an espresso con panna, upside down, blonde espresso, with a little caramel drizzle and there is nothing you can do to convince me otherwise.

oh Mike... Mikey McMike Mike...

This fuckboi orders a Mocha Frappuccino, extra caramel drizzle, two extra shots. He doesn’t tip. He also wonders if the barista with hot pink hair also has hot pink hair down stairs.

Walter Marshall

When he’s not drinking the swill they serve at the precinct, he likes a double tall latte, with almond milk. One raw sugar and nutmeg steamed in the milk.

On his birthday, though, one year the girl behind the counter convinced him to order a steamed apple juice with two bags of chai tea brewed in it for six minutes. She put in two packets of honey and a little vanilla powder. He now orders this when ever he has had a bad day.

Geralt of Rivia

The fuck is a latte?

Jokes aside, I have a drink I make whenever I want to sit down with a warm beverage and play The Witcher 3, it is a tall blonde flat white, with one pump of vanilla, cinnamon and nutmeg steamed in with the milk.

Clark Kent

He drinks his coffee back, but Lois has brought him a double chocolatey chip Frappuccino before. He’ll drink it with the metal straw that Aquaman bought him. #savetheseaturtles

Charles Brandon

Historically speaking, they didn’t have coffee or even hot chocolate in Europe until the end the Elizabethan Era. I haven’t watched the show enough to give him a proper assessment otherwise.

Thomas

This sweet little cinnamon bun orders a salter caramel hot chocolate. The girl at the shop flirts with the boy but he only has eyes for the girl WHO KEEPS HURTING HIM!!!! This poor puppy, I want to love on him and keep him safe forever, never letting anyone hurt him.

#henry cavill fanfic #head canon #henry cavill #drabble

23 notes · View notes

homeformyheart · 4 years ago

Text

until now - m!raleigh carrera x mc (plat)

author’s note: trying my hand at a shorter piece and for platinum – there will probably be at least one follow-up to this but both will stay as one-shots.

copyright: all characters owned by pixelberry studios. songs and lyrics owned by their respective creators. series/pairing: platinum – raleigh carrera x mc (cadence dorian); mentions of jessica clark (red carpet diaries mc) rating/warnings: 13+; swearing, infidelity, angst word count: 1.7k based on/prompt: “should’ve said no” by taylor swift summary: raleigh gets too drunk and too close to a fan and the only real relationship he’s ever had falls apart.

until now

cadence could recall exactly where she was the moment r&b’s timebomb blew up the internet. she couldn’t recall with detail how she felt or how she reacted in that immediate moment but she could describe the exact shade of brown from her morning latte that stained the open page of her notebook because she stared at it for a solid five minutes after the headlines broke. she was working on a new single for her upcoming album that needed an angsty, heartbreak vibe to balance the upbeat, love-focused songs she had already written. she had a few lines written (it’s strange to think the songs we used to sing / the smiles, the flowers, everything) but had been struggling with motivation to come up with anything more – after all, she hadn’t been heartbroken in a while.

she was happy in her relationship with raleigh and where she was in her career. her first world tour had been a huge success, with raleigh joining her on tour as often as he could. after her tour was over, he insisted he didn’t want to wake up in his apartment without her and it didn’t take long before cadence moved into his penthouse. a few months later, she was able to join raleigh for the beginning of his transformation world tour, his first album since deciding he could embrace the things he enjoyed from his sunset skatepark days, making it his most personal project to date. of course, whenever the music and obligations to the studio called her back to new york, they facetimed as much as they could.

dating cadence had given raleigh some of the “good boyfriend” brownie points with the public related to loyalty and affection. it helped that cadence defended him against unfair accusations and doubled down on how well he treated her to the media and their fans. and no matter what part of his reputation was theme-of-the-week over at the tabloids – shameless flirt, heartbreaker, wild card, adrenaline junkie, to name the popular ones – raleigh never gave anyone a reason to label him as a cheater and more importantly, never gave cadence any reason not to trust him. even in his fake relationships, raleigh made sure that that part of his reputation was sterling. until now.

her phone had buzzed non-stop when the news broke – to the point where she thought she was getting phone calls that sounded like a ticking time bomb but they were mostly texts and social media notifications. the headlines filled her feed one after another – “raleigh carerra cheats on cadence dorian!” “did ralence break-up?” “was cadence too boring for raleigh?” “cadence drives raleigh into arms of another woman!” – along with hundreds of theories painted by devastated and thirsty fans alike who picked apart every public appearance, interaction, social media post, and song lyric associated with the two of them for the past six months as if they could find incriminating clues and signs of a slowly fizzling relationship like amateur sleuths. cadence had to give them props – it’s not like she wouldn’t eventually do the same once she was ready to process the relationship; in some ways, the fans gave her a head start.

how was she supposed to react to this right now? the photos and videos definitely highlighted that sabrina simmons, who cadence vaguely recognized as a media-hungry and wannabe actress from one of raleigh’s older music videos, cozying up to and grinding on raleigh at a club in london, presumably the afterparty for the closing night of his tour. cadence could also point out every tell-tale sign that raleigh was drunk out of his mind; he was relishing in the attention from sabrina and being inappropriately handsy for someone in a well-known, committed relationship. what most people didn’t know, was that cadence could forgive that – raleigh was normally flirty and handsy and alcohol always exacerbated it. what she didn’t think she could forgive was the next thing she saw – or rather heard.

if cadence felt like she was close to either having a raging smash-everything-breakable-in-raleigh’s-apartment spree or an emotional-because-her-heart-was-actually-breaking meltdown, the audio clip that hit her inbox pushed her to the teetering edge of both. the recording was barely 15 seconds long but it was damning. given the circumstances, it was probably planted or planned by sabrina who wanted to catapult herself into internet fame by taking advantage of raleigh’s reputation. her voice could be heard asking him if he wanted to come back to her hotel room. the question didn’t matter to cadence though, because raleigh’s response – “fuck yes” – was clear as day and cadence knew it would haunt her for months to come.

[jessica: just saw the videos – u ok? i’m heading home to iowa for a break from work, come stay with me, no one will find you there]

cadence quickly typed out a text reply, grateful for the close friendship she had with jessica clarke, the actress-turned-director who directed the music video for her last single. there was only one call she needed to make. if anyone was already putting things in motion, it was fiona. right on cue, she picked up and before cadence could say two words, said, “i’m so sorry cadence. i’ve already got movers on the other line and hank’s on his way.”

“thanks fiona. i’m going to stay with jessica in iowa and lay low for a bit. raleigh is not allowed to find out where i am; i will get a new phone if i need to,” cadence said, calmly starting to pull out and sort her things from raleigh’s closet so the movers would know exactly what to pack while she ironed out a few more details with fiona.

raleigh was still way too drunk when his manager barged into his hotel room and forced him into the shower. he was very drunk when his security team had to half-drag him all the way to where the private jet was waiting at the airport. he was mostly drunk throughout the eight-hour flight back to new york and progressed to staggeringly hungover by the time he was in a private car heading back to his penthouse apartment. once raleigh felt like he was only massively hungover, he pulled out his phone to text cadence. he became only mostly hungover after seeing that his texts weren’t going through. in a matter of seconds, his now slightly hungover state took a backseat to the anxiety filling his stomach as he tried calling to no avail. he frowned as he opened his news feed. the headlines alone made his eyes widen but the videos were what sobered him up the rest of the way.

a new email in his inbox from cadence caught his eye. it was an audio clip and a straightforward message: just so we’re clear, our relationship is over.

cadence was halfway to the airport when she saw the incoming call from an unknown number. she knew it was probably raleigh since she had blocked his number, but she answered the call anyway. she knew she was going to need the closure, may as well get it out of the way.

“cadence? it’s me, please don’t hang up. i’m so sorry, babe. i have no idea what happened, believe me. i woke up in my own hotel room alone, i promise,” raleigh begged, the pit in his stomach had lodged itself in his throat, threatening to turn into tears.

she chose to ignore what he just said. if she let herself pull at that thread and dig into it further to see if it was the truth, she’d never be able to end things cleanly. “tell me this – was she worth it? was she worth this?” she asked, her voice hardened as a reminder to both herself and raleigh that he couldn’t sweet talk his way out of this one.

“of course not. i was black out drunk and don’t remember anything, i swear. all of the stuff in the videos and photos, it was all just—” raleigh’s voice softened, “a moment of weakness.”

“that’s convenient since i’m pretty sure this wasn’t an isolated moment,” cadence said in a clipped tone, examining her worn nail beds. she made a mental note to ask jessica for salon recommendations in her hometown. “do you honestly expect me to believe we could ever be the same?”

“i love you, cadence. i would never cheat on you, babe – you have to believe me,” raleigh pleaded, swallowing his pride at the fact that he was begging right now.

cadence let out a dry, humorless laugh. “i don’t have to do anything, those recordings speak for themselves. you should’ve known that what you did with her would get back to me. and you know what i think? you knew what you were doing. you actually had everything you could’ve ever wanted – the fame, fortune, and creative freedom that comes with success in this industry and something real with someone who cares about the real you, not the curated, fake version of you.”

she paused to take a deep breath and blink back the tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. keep it together, cadence, she told herself. “and it scared the shit out of you, didn’t it? it got too real for you because having something real and precious as love in your life also means you could lose it too. and even the thought of that happening made you feel so vulnerable that instead of treasuring and protecting it you decided to utterly destroy the only real relationship you’ve ever had. congratulations – you’ve perfected your bad boy reputation and collected the last trophy you needed, cheater.”

her words cut right through him. “i— i’m so sorry, cadence,” raleigh whispered into the phone. “i swear, i don’t remember saying yes to her or even doing anything with her. please just, tell me what i need to do to fix this.”

the audio recording replayed on loop in cadence’s mind. after a long pause, she whispered back, “you should’ve said no.” the finality of cadence’s tone was punctuated by the beep from his phone indicating she had hung up.

raleigh stood up from the couch where he had sat while on the phone with cadence. as he walked toward the bathroom, he finally looked around his apartment and realized that all of her stuff was gone. the apartment was empty, quiet, almost sterile with its clear surface areas and shiny, clean floors. it was like she had never lived here; his closet didn’t have the hint of jasmine from the perfume on her clothes, his sink counter was devoid of her jewelry and makeup, his music room wasn’t drowning in loose sheets of paper covered in her handwriting, and worst of all, the clothes she always borrowed of his, including his oversized tour shirts and sweatpants, were folded neatly on his bed.

he reached into the back corner of his closet, the side closest to the door, where no one ever stored or looked for anything until he found his gym bag. his felt around the old shirts in the bag until his fingers wrapped around a small, velvet box. he didn’t have to open it to recall the vivid five-carat emerald-cut diamond ring he had planned on proposing to cadence with. he held the box against his forehead, hand clenched around it, before throwing it as hard as he could out the bedroom door into the living room, twisting and turning his body from a crouching to an upright position in one smooth motion. maybe he should’ve been a baseball pitcher instead. it hit the far wall with a resounding thud.

the echo reverberated throughout his living room until it was met with silence, once again reminding him that he was utterly alone. and for the first time in a very long time, he cried. raleigh carrera had never been heartbroken before. until now.

* * * * * mentions: @raleigh-edward; @dulceghernandez; @thegreentwin; @kat-tia801; @otherworldlypresents; @brycesgirl; @robintora;

#reposting for new blog #choices #pb choices #playchoices #raleigh carrera #raleigh x mc #raleigh carrera x mc #cadence dorian #raleigh x cadence #choices fanfic #choices fanfics #playchoices fanfiction #my writing #not twc #choices platinum #choices fic writers creations #raleigh carrera x cadence dorian #my choices fics

19 notes · View notes

e-milieeee · 5 years ago

Text

i love you a latte—adrienette

Summary: Running on 5 cups of coffee and the extra boost her transformation gives her, Marinette’s determined to finish her project before the sun rises.

(Adrien’s just here to distract her, and honestly, it’s working.)

Notes: honestly i labelled it adrienette but it has a mix of ladynoir, ladrien and adrienette but its post reveal so it doesn’t actually matter LOLOLOL

Or read on AO3!

Marinette was stressed.

Her desk was a testament of that: it was littered with papers, candy wrappers, string, fabric and the coffee stain from two hours ago that she hadn’t bothered wiping up. The flat wasn’t any better. Like a risky game of jenga, the sink was piled high with dirty dishes. Takeout boxes were stacked just as precariously in the trash. Her closet, a complete and utter nightmare, fared no better. Marinette had a headache just looking at the mess, and thinking about having to clean it made her nauseous. So she just didn’t clean it.

As Adrien often told her, she was awful at dealing with stress.

It didn’t help that the project was due in three days. Marinette had been slaving through it for weeks on end, but the last design was particularly difficult. There was always something that didn’t seem right, but she could never pinpoint it. Now, as the end product was slowly but surely beginning to assemble, and Marinette didn’t have time for distractions. And tidying and doing dishes and sleeping were all distractions.

The clock read two thirty in the morning. If she worked hard enough, she could be finished by dawn. Then, she could sleep all through the morning, wake up in the afternoon, and start the revisions. It was a relatively foolproof plan if she didn’t count the fact that she might not be able to make it until morning.

The fifth cup of coffee just wasn’t doing it. Marinette needed something stronger.

For a moment, she sat still in her chair, contemplating her options. Then a burst of sleep deprived brilliance struck Marinette.

“Tikki,” she called.

Her kwami had dozed off on Marinette’s desk rather early in the night, but she startled awake quickly with a, “Yes?”

“I’m going to transform,” Marinette decided. “It’ll fight off the sleep better.”

“Don’t you think sleeping would be a better option? Then you can work on it in the morning!”

“Sleeping is not an option.” Especially not when she was in the final run, and all she needed to do was finish…

Tikki gave her a look that Marinette was well accustomed to: bad idea, but your choice. Given that there was no verbal or physical resistance, she took it as an agreement, no matter how reluctant. Tikki had witnessed firsthand how wonderfully terrible Marinette was with deadlines and always did her best to accommodate.

“Tikki, spots on!”

A flash of pink later, Marinette was suited and ready to work again. She downed the coffee for good measure, fought back a yawn, and positioned herself in front of the sewing machine.

“I’m Ladybug,” she said aloud, turning to her sewing machine. “I’m Ladybug, and I’m going to finish this—”

A tapping sound interrupted her. Ladybug whirled around. Even her muddled brain could comprehend that if somebody were to see Ladybug sitting in Marinette’s apartment, the dots wouldn’t be so hard to connect.

To her relief, it was a familiar pair of green eyes that blinked at her through the window. Chat Noir was crouching on the ledge, mouthing something that Ladybug couldn’t hear. She scrambled from her chair, nearly knocking her cup down in the process, and slid open the window.

A gust of cool, night breeze swept inside. For a moment, she wondered if leaving the window would help her stay more awake… then a particularly strong gust sent the papers on her desk flying out of order, and she slammed it shut behind Chat.

“What are you doing here?” Ladybug asked when a semblance of order had been restored.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied simply. “What about you?”

She winced. “Final project.”

He eyed the room contemplatively, and it hit Ladybug just how messy everything was. She let out a mortified squeak of shock, but the dirty dishes and takeout boxes and unfolded laundry weren’t going anywhere. “Out!” she shrieked. “Oh my God, out!”

“Plagg, claws in!”

Before Ladybug could shove him back through the window out of embarrassment, it was no longer Chat but Adrien that stood there, hands raised in a placating gesture. She froze. She couldn’t send him tumbling down thirteen stories like she could with Chat Noir.

He was donning the Ladybug pajamas he was so unabashedly proud of, hair loose and messy—his Chat hair. He definitely looked like he had rolled right out of bed.

Slowly, Ladybug backed down with a groan. “Don’t you dare comment about the state of the apartment. I know it’s bad.”

“Wasn’t going to, m’lady.”

“As long as you have food in your fridge,” a grumpy voice interrupted, “I don’t mind how messy it is either.”

Ladybug raised an eyebrow at Plagg as he zipped out from Adrien’s hair. “This idiot here couldn’t sleep, so he dragged me up, and for what? Oh, Plagg, I just want some fresh air! Plagg, please? I’ll buy you extra camembert. Plagg, you know how my insomnia acts up sometimes.” Plagg retched. “Fresh air my ass. I wouldn’t have agreed if I knew he was just going to be sticking his tongue down your throat.”

Adrien’s face went pink. “Plagg!”

“Shut up and feed me.”

“Glutton,” Adrien shot back, sticking his tongue out petulantly at his kwami. “Marinette, do you have food? And why are you transformed?”

“Uh,” she managed. She tried to think what was left in her fridge, but her brain wasn’t functioning enough for it. “I think I can focus better as Ladybug? Anyway, there’s cookies in the cabinets for Tikki. Plagg can either eat that or the raw meat in the freezer.”

Plagg, bemoaning how he hated Adrien, floated off to the cabinets in search of sweets.

Meanwhile, Adrien rounded her desk to lean on the other (slightly cleaner) side. “How many cups of coffee?”

Ladybug returned to the sewing machine. “Five. I think it stopped working.”

“I think it’s because you’ve drank so much coffee these past couple years that you’ve slowly built up immunity to the caffeine. Did you sleep last night?”

“Yes.” She paused, counting the time. “Two and a half hours.”

Adrien looked horrified. “Marinette!” he exclaimed. “You still have three days to finish. You need to take a break.”

He was right, but while she did need the break, the project also needed to be finished. Sure, there were three more days, but Ladybug needed to have the wiggle room for revisions and checking and double-checking for perfection.

“If I finish tonight, I have time to relax and revise without stressing about it,” she explained, although Adrien looked less convinced after each word. “I’m already behind schedule, since I’ve been working on the last dress forever and this is the fourth try.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you look like you’re about to pass out.” He gave her desk another scan as if to prove the point. “Seriously, Marinette, you’ll produce better work if you’re well rested and not running on caffeine.”

Once again, Adrien was right. She could barely go ten minutes without scrubbing her face with water or rubbing her eyes and yawning. Then a wave of panic rushed over her. The dress she had been working on had been made when she was not well rested, which meant it wasn’t under the category of better work, which meant she should redo it all from scratch so she could submit her best quality work—

“Marinette,” Adrien interrupted like he knew exactly what she was going to say. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t do anything you’ll regret. Just sleep.”

“But—”

Before she could formulate the rest of the protest, Adrien had scooped her out of the chair. Ladybug was too tired to put up a struggle. “Have you eaten any fruits or vegetables in the past couple of days?” he demanded as he carried her towards the bedroom. “Wait, have you even been eating three meals? Have you been eating two meals?”

Ladybug scrunched her nose. “What are you, my mom?”

“Your mom would ask you the same,” he shot back immediately. “Seriously, Mari, you need to take care of yourself more.”

Too tired to argue with him, she shut her eyes and curled up against his chest. Sleep was a dangerous thing; once she gave into it, there was no way out. “S’okay,” she mumbled. “You’ll take care of me.”

“Then you better let me do my job.”

She giggled. “You are like my mom.”

“And as your mother, I’m putting you to bed.”

Bed. The word sounded comforting and lovely and warm ( Adrien was all that as well). The last thing she felt was Adrien setting her gently down on the mattress, pulling the duvet over her, and then the rest was oblivion.

***

Marinette woke up to the smell of breakfast wafting into her room. Which was a rare commodity because breakfast was her favourite meal to skip.

The bed was comfortable and warm, blankets tucked all around her. Given her penchant for kicking her covers off in the middle of the night, that meant she had been recently tucked in, and—

Adrien. Everything came flooding back. Adrien was here in her apartment—her unpresentable, messy apartment—and he had somehow coaxed her to sleep last night when she could’ve spent the time finishing up her project. He had also managed to get her to detransform, because she was once again wearing the same clothes she had been wearing for at least two days.

Marinette shot out of bed, now properly horrified. She scrambled. She flailed. She stubbed her toe on the drawer and fled into the living room, where the delightful smell of breakfast was the strongest.

Adrien was standing at the stove, wearing her pink apron, still in his Ladybug pajamas. That wasn’t the most surprising part, though: every mess in the kitchen and living room had been straightened, cleaned, or disposed of.

Marinette gaped.

Having noticed her presence, he turned around and waved, spatula still in hand. Sunlight slanted through the windows and onto the couch—the couch that just last night was so full of clothing and papers that no one could sit on—which was now clear. Only cushions sat in their rightful place. It looked like he had performed a full-on exorcism on the mess.

“Adrien,” Marinette managed aloud, “what happened here?”

He flipped an egg. “I tidied up a little when I woke up this morning,” he replied. “And, uh, restocked a bit of your groceries. You were running low.” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “In full honesty, I only got up because Plagg was yelling at me about having no proper sustenance, so I decided to clean to pass the time.”

The little black kwami floated out as if summoned. “Just because Tikki likes cookies,” he sniffed, “doesn’t mean I do.” As if to prove his point, he waved a whole wheel of camembert. Marinette stuck out her tongue at Plagg before turning back to Adrien.

“You had time to clean and get groceries?” she asked. “There was… a lot of stuff around here. Like, a lot. It would’ve taken me at least hours to tidy.”

Adrien transferred the eggs from the pan to the two plates. He gestured at the counter, where the digital clock sat. “It’s eleven, so I had three hours to do all of that.”

Eleven. The realization dropped like a bomb and Marinette nearly screamed. “Eleven?” she yelped, whirling on Adrien. “Why did you let me sleep for so long? Why didn’t you wake me up? I wasn’t even supposed to sleep last night and I’m not finished and this means—”

“Marinette, relax!”

She slowed to a halt. “You still have time,” Adrien continued soothingly, in the specific tone he used every time he needed to calm her down. “I let you sleep in because you need to be well-rested to put out your best work, and you need to eat a healthy, balanced meal in order to focus later. You can work all day afterwards. But right now, we’re going to have brunch together, and you’re not going to think of your project until we finish.”

Marinette didn’t want to wait. The fact that she was so close yet not quite made her uncomfortably jittery and the only remedy would be to work work work so she could just get it done with, but that wasn’t rational or reasonable. Besides, the meal Adrien had cooked smelled delicious and it would be rude to not eat it with him…

Relax, she told herself. I’ll finish in time. It’ll be okay.

Marinette breathed in a full body inhale, then let it out slowly. “Okay,” she said. “Okay, let’s eat.”

Adrien’s eyes crinkled and she felt herself relax slightly. “Just sit,” he told her. “I’m supposed to pamper you today.”

The table was already set, so Marinette slid into the chair as Adrien set down her plate in front of her. On it were the eggs he had been frying, a scallion pancake, strawberries, and a generous serving of hash browns. Ever since his father had been defeated, Adrien started dropping by their family’s bakery more and more, and her mother had taken to both feeding him and teaching him how to properly cook. It turned out that Adrien had what Sabine called the Culinary Touch, because once he started learning, everything he made was heavenly.

Her mug was set down before her, and Marinette let out a squeak of delight. “You learned how to do this?” she asked, beaming at the cream heart decorated perfectly on top.

Adrien gave her a cheeky grin. “I love you a latte,” he announced proudly.

Marinette moaned. “You ruined it.”

“Nah, you love my puns.”

“I love a lot of things about you, but your internet-stolen puns aren’t one of them.”

He feigned hurt, clutching his chest. “All of this,” he cried, gesturing grandly, “was for that pun. I only ask for a minuscule amount of appreciation, Bugaboo, yet you wound me with your insults—”

“Shut up, drama queen,” Marinette laughed, picking up her utensils. “Ugh, I’ve been craving scallion pancakes for so long. And you make these exactly like my mom.”

Adrien preened. “We established that I am your mother last night,” he reminded her.

“I don’t claim responsibility for anything I said, agreed to, or didn’t agree to last night. Also, how did you get my transformation off?”

It was Adrien’s turn to groan. “I had to bribe you into saying Tikki, spots off, ” he grumbled. “You don’t know how hard it was. For someone who put up such a struggle about not wanting to sleep, as soon as you touched the bed, you were out like a light.”

Marinette, not remembering anything that happened last night, was more than happy not to recall. “But you managed it in the end, didn’t you?”

“But at what cost?” Adrien speared a hashbrown. “What would Paris think to know that their beloved Ladybug was actually such a bratty menace?”

Torn between curious and mortified, Marinette asked, “What did I do?”

Adrien gave her a wicked little grin. “I’m not telling,” he sang.

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her beg for the answer, Marinette dug back into her breakfast and tried to appear disinterested. Apparent lack of interest was always the easiest way for Adrien to crack.

It only took a minute or so before he spoke up again. “Do you want to know what you did?”

Marinette arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re asking, not me.”

“C’mon, humour me, buginette.”

“Only because you said so, chaton. What deal with the devil did you strike last night?”

He grinned. “I think I’ll save that for another time. You need to get to work soon.”

Marinette glared at him, mentally filing away the fact that she was going to wiggle the information out of him one way or another. Stuffing the last piece of scallion pancake into her mouth, she sat back with a content sigh. “This was good.”

“And it was a well balanced meal,” Adrien added drily, also cleaning his plate. “Which you should be eating despite the fact that you have a final project due. I saw at least three Chinese take-outs in your trash can.”

“One was from last week!”

Adrien wrinkled his nose. “Is that supposed to be better or worse?”

Shaking her head, she smiled at him instead. “Thank you,” Marinette told Adrien, and she meant it. “You’re the best.”

He returned the smile, green eyes crinkling. Back in lycée, her heart would’ve turned to mush if he smiled at her in such a way. Now, five years later, Marinette was no closer to stopping the butterflies in her stomach. It wasn’t her fault he had such a lovely smile.

Adrien was the first to look away, sweeping her empty plate from in front of her in one smooth movement. “I’ll do the dishes,” he offered. “Finish your project, and maybe we can cook dinner together.”

Before Marinette could agree, he leaned down and planted a quick kiss against her cheek in one fluid movement. “Good luck. I’m sure it’ll be amazing.”

She stared at him for a couple seconds longer as he headed towards the kitchen. She didn’t deserve Adrien. Amazing, kindhearted, hardworking, considerate Adrien who was everything anybody could ever ask for.

“Marinette?” he stuck his head out. “I love you a latte.”

She groaned. Of course he had to pun.

"I also love you a latte," she replied reluctantly.

(All the embarrassment was worth the grin that spread across his face.)

Notes: This is part 3 of my lovesquare drabbles, although they’re all loosely interconnected and each work as a standalone. If you’re interested, here’s part one, and here’s part two!

Here’s my fic masterlist.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette #adrien agreste #chat noir #ladybug #my writing #mlb fic #stressed marinette LOL whoops

112 notes · View notes

bloodieorchid · 5 years ago

Text

Cafe Rouge - Part 3

Cafe Rouge - Chapter Three: Cappuchino

Next ->

<- Last

<- First

A college student finds a job at an elusive coffee and book shop after the disappearance of the past barista. Only after the interview and many confidentiality agreements do you begin to learn the secrecy behind Café Rouge.

YANDERE MALE x READER, YANDERE FEMALE X READER, YANDERE NB X READER

CW: This story will contain dark subject matter regarding stalking, abuse, violence, the yandere tag in general, and more to be added as this story is written and updated. I, as a writer, do NOT condone any of the activities in this story and only seek to write a horror romance. All pronouns are gender neutral so everyone can read and imagine themselves in the story.

You could hardly sleep with the stress of the nightmare you were living. Someone was watching you, was trying to learn your name and could very possibly be behind the disappearance of Laura. Early mornings gave way into even later nights full of fear of what was to come, but it was only getting worse because you also had to work again.

“You look like shit, Rook,” Knight called out as he prepared the espresso machine for the day. He wasn’t wrong. You had bags underneath your eyes from the lack of sleep and you were lethargic from the anxiety soaking into your bones. You nodded, rolling your sleeves as you set down your belongings to prepare for the long shift at work. You also had to prepare for an exam the following day. “Long night, Shane. Long night,” you whispered as you prepared the bar for the day at work, clocking in. He sighed, “I understand that it would be a lot of stress to try and sleep during this. I’ll take the majority of the stuff this shift, you just run the register,” Shane called, rubbing your shoulder.

“I don’t want to make you have to carry for me not being able to sleep,” you called out as you frowned. You counted the cash for the register, pulling the ones and counting them from one to the other until there was enough change. “I’ve handled worse shifts. I might ask for your help, but it isn’t your fault that someone’s come after you,” he frowned as he poured the coffee beans into the grinder. The beans clattered against the class and metal of the grinder, causing you to wince.

You didn’t know if they were already listening to you, trying to find out your name and where you lived. It was a weight that would never let yourself forget. You had to find out who it was though, could it be any of the customers or your coworkers? Could it be one of your schoolmates who had watched you start a new job? You honestly didn’t know and it only made you feel more helpless in comparison. Shane stepped over, rubbing your shoulders with a sigh. “I’ve been there, (Y/N). It’ll work out, I promise,” he spoke quietly, yet reassuringly. “You speak this as if you know,” you whispered to him. He sighed, “Because I do,” he whispered.

You looked at him confused. “You wondered why Mr. Arnold always gets his drinks from me, tips me well, and honestly will ignore whoever else works here unless I’m here. He was my stalker for a while, but he realized how anxious his affection made me. He and I made an agreement and he and I get dinner once a week,” he explained as he wiped the counter. “H... He stalked you?” you asked concerned. “Not necessarily. He would watch me as I got off work, would tip me much more, and he even tried to stop one of my friends from talking to me,” he explained as he tossed you your apron for work. “What did you do?” you asked in return. He frowned. “I had to find out it was him, but then I sat down and refused to let him ruin my life. He understood that, but he felt he had to protect me? So I let him do that, but he gave me more freedom to live,” he explained as he cleaned the silver milk pitchers. “You just have to find out who and try to protect yourself, that’s all I can say,” he explained.

You sighed and nodded with a frown as you continued setting up the counter, moving to go dust off the numerous shelves of books throughout the shop. You knew that this would be the hardest, but most important day in trying to find out who you’re stalker was. Unfortunately, you hadn’t even been there for a month yet to try and find which of your regular customers was your stalker wasn’t a great way to start this new job to be completely honest.

You, by process of association, had presumed that Mr. Arnold wasn’t going to be your stalker if he was already interested in Shane or rather, Knight. However, Cafe Rouge had regulars in the double digits and it was impossible to find out who would dare stalk someone under Mr. Bishop’s protection when it was obvious he was determined to protect his employees.

It became even more confusing when the shop opened that day. Mr. Arnold came into the shop to get his usual Mexican Chiapas on espresso. “Good morning, Mr. Arnold,” you called out with a smile. He nodded with a small smile, before nodding at Knight to brew his morning espresso. “I hate to say it, Rook. But you aren’t looking so red hot.” he apologized as he was given his morning espresso. “Just a bad night’s rest, Mr. Bishop. No harm,” you gave a small smile. He sipped his espresso with a sigh. “Maybe it would be best to have your own coffee, Rook. It seems like you’re going to have a long day as well,” he explained and you chuckled, “I’ll consider it sir,” you explained. He pulled out another set of bills. “A shot of espresso for Rook as well, Knight,” he sighed as he set the money on the counter.

You glanced at Knight as he brewed the espresso. He had a confused look in his brow as he brewed the small cup of espresso, setting it next to you. You pulled out a single sugar packet to add to the espresso, but Mr. Arnold reached his hand out. “As much as sugar make things sweeter, don’t disguise the true flavor of the espresso. You have to taste the espresso, or you’re merely wearing rose-colored glasses,” he explained as he took an sip of his espresso. You nodded, taking a gulp of the bitter espresso. He finished his mug and he gave a small smile to you, before turning to Knight. “We’re still on for tomorrow, Knight?” he asked as he returned the mug. Knight nodded with a small smile. “I’ll meet you as soon as I get off,” Knight smiled as Mr. Arnold added money to the tip jars before turning and leaving.

There wasn’t enough time to discuss this, as customers continued to flood the shop. Willow entered the shop, smiling gently to you as they ordered their usual flavored latte. When you brought it over to their table, Willow looked up from their book. “What do you study?” Willow asked. You glanced at them, slightly confused. “Huh?” you asked, confused. “I-I’m sorry, I-I saw you we-were tired and assumed you were a s-student?” they stuttered nervously, wringing their hands in their shirt reminding you of you in your interview. “O-Oh, I’m in college. I just haven’t figured out my major yet,” you explained as they smiled. “You are a student too? I assume you’re going to the university up the hill?” they asked and you nodded. They smiled. “That’s my alma mater. I hope you’re enjoying it,” they smiled as they took their latte to sip it.

You returned to the counter and hoped that you would just have to find out between the two, only for more people to come into the shop. Mona returned, although significantly less frazzled but with a much longer list. “The mayor has a bunch of guests over for an early morning meeting. Luckily, they called in advance with their coffee order so we all can join the meeting,” she smiled as you rang her up. “Here’s hoping you get some rest today, Mona! It seems like you’re going to need it,” you explained as you handed her the receipt for City Hall’s records. She smiled. “Don’t worry, I have a pretty nice after work routine of self-care,” she explained before taking the drink carriers.

The shift continued on and on as more and more people came to study, drink coffee, buy books, and your suspicions only increased as you were staying through the shop and even stayed for a double shift to better get an idea of who your stalker was. Knight merely looked as you concerned as his replacement arrived.

Queen had been as beautiful as you heard, with long black hair tied into a long braid and her eyes piercing like an ancient empress. She smiled gently. “So you’re the infamous Rook. I’m Queen, it’s a pleasure. Let’s see what you have today,” she smiled, before asking for a latte while she prepared for the shift. Knight moved over, hands resting on your shoulders. “It’ll be okay, Rook. Don’t worry,” he explained as he smiled. He grabbed his jacket as Queen joined him behind the counter. Luckily for you, the afternoon shift was much slower than the morning.

Queen had brought a couple of journals to allow you to write hypotheses of who your stalker was and why: was it the young secretary at the Mayor’s office? The medical student? The realtor? Knight? Many questions lingered on your mind as sunset arrived and the shop closed. Queen glanced over, “Head home, Rook. I can close early. If you want, Mr. Bishop can drive you home?” she asked. You shook your head. You didn’t want to pull anyone else into your problems. You thanked her, before grabbing your jacket and heading out of the shop early for once.

You hurried home, not lingering in the windows as you had before. You pulled your jacket taut from the evening chill and attempting to hurry home, but you were stopped again by another alleyway clatter. You paused, glancing down the alleyway. You were desperately hoping for no sign of your stalker, no box with a creepy tarot message and a chance to be able to sleep without the feeling of being watched.

Instead, you had found two people in the dark of the alleyway. One of them, a large burly man looked dazed and confused on the ground of the alleyway. His clothing was messy and had been partially removed by the second person, a young woman with silver hair tied back in a braid. Her face was concealed by a mask and her gloves by black, latex gloves. However, you could easily see the black hilted dagger being used to separate the man’s hands from his body. You glanced on the ground to the large pile of blood to see another one of his hands already separated and his arm was tied taught with a piece of his shirt to prevent bleeding. The girl was in black clothing, however she glanced over to see bright silver eyes meet yours. A name snapped to the focus of your mind.

“Mona?”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere male x reader #yandere female x reader #female yandere x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere x you #coffee shop fic #yandere coffee shop #original work #stalker #stalker fic #gw violence #remember that oc i posted last week?#here we go again

64 notes · View notes

secondhand-trash · 5 years ago

Text

The Usual

@shinsoubowl Week Day 3 (Prompt: coffee shop)

A/N: I’m so excited for this prompt uwu

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi x reader

Description: Shinsou was by no means a coffe drinker. But if it meant that he could see the cute barrista who worked at the coffe shop by the corner, he would gladly pour that disgusting cup of liquid down his throat every day.

(guest starring the pikachu boy uwu)

Word count: 2131

Playlist:

Earth Angel(Will You Be Mine)//The Penguins

Coffee Breath//Sofia Mills

Cherry Wine//Hozier

The small bell hanging on the door frame chimed as Shinsou pushed the glass door open, the strong aroma of coffee immediately filled his sense as he walked in.

He first came to this small coffee shop by the corner of the agency he was working at a few months ago when he was asked to get a cup of coffee for his boss on his way to work. It was a cozy shop, the light shining in through the tall windows and plants sitting by every corner. There was only one barista by the counter when he walked in and the barista immediately greeted him with a bright smile as he walked up.

“Good morning! What can I get for you?”

“Er...” Shinsou looked at the message his boss sent him and winced at how specific the order was, “Can I have a tall caramel latte with double shots of espresso, one extra pump of hazelnut syrup, skim milk and a thin layer of foam for takeout please?”

He felt bad for all the extra requirements and was fully expecting the barista to gave him a look but instead of that, they laughed and the sound made his heart skip a beat. “Would you happen to be working in that pro-hero agency down the block?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “Yeah, I suppose very few customers would give such a long order except from our boss so it must be quite obvious.”

“Oh, trust me, his regular orders are far from being the most complicated ones we’ve gotten.” the barista said with a smile, “Anything for you?”

“Well...”

“We have a new blend of roast that just came in yesterday, would you like to try that?”

Shinsou had no intention to get anything for himself originally but something about that barista’s lovely smile clouded his judgment and before he knew it, he was walking out of the shop with two cups in head. Since that day, he had quickly become a regular at the coffee shop, stopping by each morning before work.

For the record, Shinsou hated the taste of coffee.

Perhaps it was the unhealthy habit of drinking black coffee as an energy drink back when he was studying in UA, but Shinsou could not help but scrunched in disgust at the bitter hue of that dark liquid. He tried adding heaps of sugar and milk to it but it did not make the drink any more appealing to him. How some people genuinely like the taste of it, he could never understand.

But something about that coffee shop made him want to go back day after day and it did not take him long to see just why that was the case.

“Morning!” you perked up from the counter as you caught the vivid shade of purple at the door from the corner of your eye.

Shinsou smiled. You were always so energetic each morning and seeing you made it just a bit easier for him to get through another day of hectic work. “Morning.”

“Should I get you your usual or do you want to try something new?”

“The usual would be fine,” he yawned before continuing, “I would be down if there’s something you recommend though.”

You quirked a brow upwards at the hero’s tired expression, “You look exhausted, even more so than usual. How much sleep did you get last night?”

“None.”

You gasped and sent him an exaggerated glare, he grinned apologetically in response. You picked up on Shinsou’s sleep deprivation very quickly since he started showing up, seeing as how he had drifted off to sleep several times while waiting for his order. “What have I said about-”

“Getting more rest. I know, I know.” he sighed, “I really tried, I swear. But villains don’t wait till you got 8 hours of sleep per day to start crimes.”

“I swear, you’re gonna get a sudden cardiac death one day at this rate.” you rolled your eyes as he laughed.

“Aw, you’re worried about me. That’s cute.”

“Don’t laugh, I’m being serious.” you glared at him before resorting to a soft sigh, “Can I get you a double shot to wake you up?”

Just the faint memory of the bitterness was enough to send him war flashbacks to when he used to stay up all night for catching up to school work after training. In all honesty, he would really much rather stick to the more tolerable taste of latte that he normally get but you were suggesting that to help him, how was he supposed to say no to that concerned look in your eyes?

“Of course.”

Shinsou cursed himself for not having a back bone as he squeezed his eyes tight the moment he tasted the strong coffee on his tongue.

“Are you planning to make a move on that cute guy who looked like he haven’t slept in ten years at all? Because I swear he is only here for you and I can tell that you are always being extra nice to him. It infuriates me that none of you are doing anything about it.”

You looked at your colleague as you tied the knot of the apron on your back. “What? I treat every customer the same!”

She clicked her tongue as she slammed her locker shut, “I don’t hear you gushing about other customers.”

You blushed and tried to brush her off, “I do not gush about him.”

“Oh, so not only were you gushing, you were also doing it without any awareness.”

“Just stop it,” you pretended to fix your hair in front of the mirror instead of looking at your friend as she snickered, “the coffee is not gonna brew itself if we stay here at the back.”

“Keep denying it, it’s not gonna change the truth.” she smirked as she yelled after you escaped to the store front.

You were still thinking about what she said to you when you were setting up the register. Were you being extra nice to Shinsou? Well, he was one of the nicer customers around. Literally every person who worked at the shop had their own favourite customer so it wasn’t that abnormal for you to act just a little bit differently in front of him. Right? Right?

“Daydreaming at work? That’s unlike you.”

You let out a soft yelp as the sudden voice startled you. You looked up with wide eyes as Shinsou stared at you with a crooked grin. He was one of the nicer customers you had here, and it didn’t hurt that he was also one of the more good-looking ones either. You felt warmth spreading from the tip of your ears to your cheeks at the realization that he was standing there while you thought of him. “You’re here earlier than usual.”

Despite not knowing the true cause, he did picked up on the faint blush on your face. Assuming that you were embarrassed from being startled, he couldn’t help but widening his grin at how adorable you looked.

“Got some work I have to finish before the day starts so I need to get back to the agency earlier.” he sighed as he felt the rumbling in his stomach, “I regret skipping breakfast for it though.”

“Oh,” you frowned at his lack of care for his body, “your usual?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Sitting on a bar stool as he waited for his order, Shinsou was scrolling through his phone when he saw you put a brown paper bag in front of him.

“What is this?” he asked and picked it up. The bag was hot under his touch and he could smell a faint sweetness as he held it.

“A muffin.”

He tilted his head in confusion, “I did not order that?”

“It’s on me,” you smiled as you watched him peeking into the bag curiously, “no way in hell am I going to let you go to work with an empty stomach.”

Part of him wanted to tell you that he could not take it but the way you cared about his well-being filled him with joy and the pastry smelled so good. “You’re a god-sent.” he said as he hummed in content after biting into the warm muffin.

“Anything for my favourite customer.”

He wasn’t sure if the sweetness of the cake could compare to your words, the idea that he was at least somewhat special to you sent his heart pounding furiously in his chest.

You waved at him before he left and watched as Shinsou’s frame disappeared from your sight. You pressed your cold hand to your face and shivered as your heated face came in contact with the icy fingers. Your friend who was talking to you in the back room earlier leaned against the counter, “You looked flushed, what happened?”

“That man had no business looking that good in the early morning-” you paused as you realized what you just said and your friend gave you a cheeky grin, “oh my god, I do gush about him.”

She snorted as your eyes widened, “I told you so.”

“Let me repeat myself,” Shinsou stared at the blonde who was having the widest grin on his face, “why are you here?”

“Since our agencies are working on the same case together, I think it’d be nice if we catch up!” Kaminari said through his toothy smile. Shinsou was aware that he would be working with his UA school mate for the coming days since he got a heads up from his boss but he was not expecting to find Chargebolt waiting outside his apartment as he made way to work this morning.

“And waiting outside someone’s house is definitely a normal way to do that.” Shinsou said dryly but his friend didn’t seem to pick up on the sarcasm as he continued babbling on about the time they spent in UA as they walked.

“Hey!” you were wiping the counter when Shinsou walked in with someone by his side, “You brought a friend!”

“He’s not my-”

“Kaminari Denki, or Chargebolt as you will. It’s a pleasure.” you reached out and shook his extended hand as Shinsou clenched his jaw. “Is this the one you were-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Shinsou quickly cut him off before he kept running that large mouth of his, “I’ll have the usual.”

You smiled as you marked down his order and handed him the change, “One tall latte, coming right up.”

“What?” Kaminari looked at his friend and furrowed his eyebrows, “But you-”

“Don’t say it.”

“-hate coffee.”

Shinsou wanted nothing more than to slap the blonde for saying what he had been trying to hide in front of you for so long. He was filled with dread and embarassment as your eye widened in shock, “What?”

“It’s nothing-”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you nearly screamed at how bad you felt for basically assuming that he would want coffee, “I just thought you like coffee since it’s what you get the first time you were here and you actually hated it?”

“It’s fine! I’m the one who asked for-”

“No you did not! I thought you could not make your mind up so I took you not refusing my recommendation as a ‘yes’-”

“I could have said something-”

“We also have tea, you know? I could have gotten you tea!”

“It’s fine! Really, I’m here to see you anyways-” Shinsou stopped mid scream as he realized what he just said. You flailing hands froze mid-air as his words settled in your mind.

“Oh.” your voice softened as you finally got what he was implying, “Oh.”

“Yeah, so it’s ok. Really.” Shinsou said as heat spread all across his face and he sent a sharp glare towards Kaminari who just avoided his accusing gaze.

“Well, I still feel bad. Can I make it up to you?” you shyly looked away as he looked at your face that was as flushed as his own, “I know this really nice cat cafe, we can go there? You do like cats, right?”

“Love them, actually.” Shinsou smiled and it made your heart flutter, “That sounds great. Pick you up when you get off?”

“Sure. Tonight at 6?”

“Tonight at 6.”

Kaminari’s eyes flicked between the two of you as you just stood there and sheepishly glance at each other occasionally in silence. “So... Technically, I did a good thing right?”

“Shut up.”

“Ok. Sorry.”

#bnha imagines #shinsou x reader #shinsoubowl #shinsoubowl week 2019 #shinsou hitoshi #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #shinsou imagine #boku no hero academia

306 notes · View notes

lonelypond · 4 years ago

Text

Soldier Game: Operation LA Smile, Ch. 4

NicoMaki, Love Live, 3.4K, 4/?

Summary: Early morning post party, pre airport encounters.

Morning After

Umi had fallen silent and was staring out the window at the Tokyo skyscape as the rising sun made the metallic towers sparkle; Kotori preferred her view, leaning forward on the sofa, her arm behind Umi, enchanted as Umi couldn’t keep back the cutest yawn, then shaking her night blue hair with a little laugh.

A staff member appeared suddenly, distracting Kotori.

“Minami-sensei?”

“Mmmm.” Kotori acknowledged the presence, but did not go so far as to offer charm.

“The chefs are preparing for breakfast so we thought you might enjoy some coffee and pastries.”

Kotori smiled. This wasn’t invasive, this was a gift to cap off a long night of conversation. “Yes, Umi-chan and I would appreciate that.”

Umi heard her name and turned away from Tokyo. “Kotori?”

“We are getting a breakfast treat.”

“Oh good. I can sleep on the plane, but I do have some last minute packing. Coffee will keep me awake for that.”

“Espressos, quad shots, lots of sugary things in mine,” Kotori giggled.

“”And your guest?”

“Caffe latte. And something on the healthier side.”

“What, no sweets, Umi?” Kotori pouted, ‘but they have the tastiest here.”

Umi’s smile was gentle, “I have already had the sweetest indulgence of tucking the night into dawn in the loveliest company. Coffee and something sturdier than a macaron would be preferred.”

“I will see to it.” Helpful staff bowed out.

“Thank you.” Umi stretched. “That was an indulgence. I have not told so many school stories in years.”

Kotori leaned in a little further, her fingers resting lightly on Umi’s shoulder, still impressed by the texture of the dress, but even more impressed by the feel of the muscle underneath. “I would have loved to see you in your blazer and uniform.” Kotori leaned back and closed her eyes, “I imagine you were so serious.”

Umi shrugged, “I still am. And now I have to get back to work.”

“This wasn’t work?” Kotori asked.

“No.” Umi shook her head. “It was too comfortable. I showed too much of my true self.”

Kotori’s hand covered Umi’s as they stared into different memories of Tokyo, “Thank you.”

###

Maki heard the noises. Kitchen noises. Adding to the headache twinges inside her sinuses and skull. Not her place, she didn’t have a roommate. Unless she’d…Maki bolted up, the white floral sheet falling away, her clothes from last night still on. She recognized the family pictures lined up neatly on the dresser. Eli’s place. Maki relaxed, which only made her head throb worse. But at least if Eli had taken her home, Maki had probably not done anything stupider than what she could remember. She really had to take tequila off her Self Dare list. That would be the adult thing to do.

She managed to stand and head for the kitchen. Eli was putting together breakfast from what looked like leftovers.

“Sorry if I woke you. Figured I might as well use what’s in the refrigerator. We’ll be in LA for a month.”

“Why are you up so early?”

“Yazawa needs to go somewhere and we’re officially on bodyguard duty.”

“Where the hell does she need to go this early?”

“I don’t ask, I just drive. I was supposed to stop by the office and meet Nozomi to double check all the arrangements but now...” Eli near pouted.

Maki winced. The sun was bright and Eli’s idea of flirting as bonding over paperwork was just nutso. “I’ll drive Nico. Just hand me the food.” Maki stretched out a hand.

“Are you all right to drive?”

“I sweated out all the tequila on the dance floor. Now I’m just a shell over throbbing pain. And I intend to be in a bad mood so someone who deserves it might as well suffer with me.”

Eli laughed, “What did Nico do to deserve you?”

Maki blushed, growled, and grabbed the plate, nearly running for Eli’s couch.

“Civilized people eat at tables.” Eli teased.

Maki had shoved enough food in her mouth to prevent conversation and just pointed to her chipmunk cheeks with the fork.

“You have to pick Nico up in 40 minutes. She’s at the hotel.”

Maki froze. Nico was at the hotel. Still. In the FeatherSmile suite. With…? Images of Nico leaning over to kiss her signature over and over again, on lacy black, pink, blue, brown, gold, and sheer bras, on giggling women with no shirts and no shame, each offering Nico a lingering view, inviting more attention, shoved into the back of Maki’s eyes with more force than the hangover.

“Maki? Change your mind?”

Maki swallowed and shook her head, “No, I’ll do it.

“Thanks. US Customs twists everything up in petty. Plus, one office doesn’t know what another is doing. Nozomi sounded so frustrated about it.”

Maki frowned, “Are FeatherSmile handling their own baggage? Have they been complaining.”

“Yes.” Eli answered slowly, “And no. Maybe they know tricks. They’ve done trunk shows all over North and South America.”

“It’s an odd business setup.”

Eli considered, “Not really. They’ve been trying to break into the big fashion events, Milan, London, Toronto, New York, Miami...and even if their events were virtual only, they insisted on using local locations and vendors. Very detailed planning to support a solid strategy.”

“They’re thinking bigger than Tokyo.”

“World domination.” Eli chuckled, “I suppose you were asleep on a sofa when Nico gave her Number One Designer In the Universe toast. She’s bold.”

“Yeah.” Maki muttered, too wired to filter memories that proved Eli’s statement. Then the practical part of her brain kicked in. Nico had seen her last night, in these clothes. “I have to borrow clothes.”

Eli shook her head, “You know where my closet is. And remember,” Eli glanced at her swellegant vintage watch, “You have to be there in 37 minutes. So pick your outfit faster than…”

“Shut up, Eli.” Maki growled and headed into Eli’s bedroom. Pants and a shirt should work. Maki should just keep a change of clothes here. She crashed on the couch often enough. Umi’s morning routine, which began at dawn, was designed to deter lingerers.

###

Loose light blue linen shirt, navy pants, braided belt, Maki kept her own shoes, Eli had driven her car so Maki had an embroidered bomber jacket tossed in the trunk. Sliding it on was like sliding into armor. Whatever Yazawa had to throw in her direction, charm, orgy partners, anger, Maki would just let it slide off the nylon shoulders, to be eaten by the tiger snarling on the back.

Eli had Nico’s number so Maki texted her when she arrived at the hotel. Sooner than seemingly possible, the door opened. Nico. In a trench coat, mask, and sunglasses.

“You’re not my ride.”

“You look ridiculous.”

“Nico managed to get through the lobby without signing lingerie so discreet is the adjective you want to use. And why is it you? Can’t stand to be away from Nico?” Nico slid into the seat, blowing a kiss as she buckled in and Maki scowled. Nico pointed up. “Can’t you afford a roof?.”

“It’s a classic Porsche.” Maki hissed.

“It’s a disaster for Nico’s hair.”

Maki ignored that, “Where do you need to go?”

Nico mentioned a street Maki didn’t recognize. Maki started to type it into her phone’s mapping app.

“Nico will tell you. The turns are quick.”

“Is it your apartment?”

“My mom’s. I’m making my siblings breakfast.”

Surprised by the answer, Maki forgot to engage the clutch. She winced at the chattering noise; Nico giggled.

Maki snapped, “Do you have the time? This is important.”

Nico’s voice chilled, “Nico will be out of the country or quarantining for at least two months. I’m making my siblings breakfast before I go. The sooner you start the car, the more time Nico gets to spend with them.”

Maki’s cheeks flushed as she merged with traffic. “Which way?”

“Take a left. How fast does this thing go?”

Maki grinned. That was a question she would enjoy answering,

###

“Just park the car and come up for breakfast. You haven’t eaten, have you?”

“Not much.”

“Nico’s making pancakes. It’ll be amazing. Mama keeps a spot for Nico’s car so you can take it.”

“I’ll be intruding.”

“If you stay in your roofless car Nico will feel guilty. Plus,” Nico leaned over, staring intensely at Maki’s face, “You look hungover.”

“I do not.” Maki snapped.

“Nico knows what hungover looks like and last night, it was too much tequila on the dance floor.”

Maki flared red. “Were you watching me?”

“Everyone was watching you. Tokyo was watching you.”

Maki wondered if that meant binoculars or something. Nico’s continuing grumble explained, “Half the crowd was livestreaming you, the other half was undressing you in their heads. If we were actually dating Nico would shut down the party and throw them all out…”

Maki couldn’t help what she said next or the meek squeak that accompanied it, “Not me?”

“Nico would have thrown you off the roof. That kind of stupid, useless behavior as a mad attention grab…”

“What about having women strip right in front of everyone as a mad attention grab.”

“Nico is a professional, a lingerie artist. There are expectations, it is art.”

“It’s bull. You just like seeing…”

“Sexy women?” Nico snorted, “Yes, I do. I also like touching them, and I do it very well, if you remember just two days ago when you couldn’t resist Nico’s…”

Suddenly desperate to change the subject, Maki blurted. “I’m parking here right?”

Nico shook her head, Maki thought she might be angry, but her voice was as vapidly bright as ever, “Perfect, Ms. Perfect Ass.”

Maki slammed the door so she could pretend not to have heard.

###

“Hey Eli! Good morning! We got donuts in the office.” Nozomi’s cheerful assistant with unspecified duties waved as Eli turned down the corridor leading to Nozomi’s office. She was glad she’d taken the time to eat a quick, substantial breakfast. Sugar crash was no way to start out a day that would involve a transoceanic flight.

“Thanks, Rin. I already ate.” Eli paused to adjust her rolling luggage as Rin disappeared into the office.

“Eli’s here.”

“Right on time.” Eli heard approval in Nozomi’s voice.

“Of course.” Eli entered the office, closing the door behind her, “Punctuality is the cornerstone of professionalism.

Nozomi raised an eyebrow. She was once again dressed in a dark, formal business suit, the multicolored pattern scattered over her collarless blouse the only hint of personality. “So how’s your go go dancer colleague today?”

Eli paused, taken aback, “Maki?”

Nozomi nodded. Eli couldn’t help it. Nozomi’s implied criticism shocked the friendly out of Eli’s reply. “She’s fine. She and Nico should be wherever Nico needed to be by now.” Eli left her luggage standing by the door, “What is it you needed from me?”

“You said you might be able to help me figure out the paperwork we need for customs.”

Rin didn’t hide her boredom, “I’m gonna load up our ride, Nozomi.”

“Good idea, Rin.” Nozomi was glancing at two open folders, then decided to push one in Eli’s direction, “Take a look at this. Highlight everywhere someone has to initial.”

Eli leaned forward to grab a pen, “Will do.”

Nozomi smiled, “Thank you. Paperwork wasn’t listed as one of your talents.”

Eli winked, “Always keep a few secrets.”

Nozomi nodded back. That’s what she was afraid of.

###

“Nico!!!!!” Nico heard her sister, Cocoa, whining from the living room. But Nico was at the delicate part of the making of pancakes, whisking them full of fluffy and delicious airiness.

“Nico’s busy.”

“Your friend’s cheating.”

“MAKI!”

Nico’s other sister, Cocoro, appeared in the doorway, “I don’t think Maki’s cheating. She just seems to be really good at MarioKart. She hasn’t lost a race yet.”

“Get Cocoa to play another game, one of the party ones where random things happen.”

“Your friend won’t play anything else.”

“Tell her Nico says you get to choose.”

Cocoro nodded and returned to the couch, where Maki was fighting off a last minute surge by Nico’s teenage brother, Cotarou.

“Ha!” Maki raised the controller in a triumphant gesture, “I RULE.”

“Cheater…” Cocoa muttered.

Cocoro stood in front of Maki, who was still getting used to so many people in the same room who looked like Nico, were all younger than her, and all at least slightly taller than Nico. It made her think maybe some tequila was still lingering in her system, in the veins that made her forehead throb slightly if she paused to think about it at all.

“Nico says I get to pick the next game. And I want to play Dance Party.”

Maki sighed and handed over her controller, “I’m taking a break.”

“Rematch.” Cotarou demanded.

“You got it, buddy.” Maki whirled with finger guns and a wink, turning back to hide the wince that came with the spin of disorientation.

“Cool.”

Maki headed Nicoward, drawn partly by the smell of a cinnamony breakfast. She was starting to feel ravenous. Had she eaten anything at the party.

“Did I eat anything at the party?”

Nico turned, tilting her head quizzically, “Nico might have been too busy to monitor your calorie intake.”

Maki sat at the table, “I don’t remember eating much.”

“Did wherever you woke up feed you breakfast?”

“Eli’s spare futon and some kind of leftovers.”

Nico couldn’t get grumpy about a coworker’s spare futon. “Nico’s pancakes require appreciation. This is not an eat and run.”

“Smells good.”

Nico stopped and stared. Maki was sitting at the table, oxford sleeves rolled up, too many buttons undone for a breakfast with Nico’s siblings, long, delicate fingers sorting out tussles in red locks as Maki stretched her head back and carried on a conversation like they had some kind of a normal relationship.

“Had to borrow Eli’s clothes.” Maki frowned, unrolling a sleeve, “they don’t fit.”

“Not designer huh?”

“Oh, no, they’re designer, they’re just tailored for Eli.”

“DIdn’t seem like much difference to me,” Nico decided to test the mood, “Nico hasn’t had a chance to measure your partner yet.”

“Shirt’s too loose.” Maki grumped, pulling on the placket. Apparently there was no mood. Just breakfast. Nico sighed.

“Here. Eat your pancakes.” Nico dropped a plate in front of Maki.

Instead of instantly wolfing them down like Nico expected, Maki shuffled them around with her fork, crumb clumping the syrup Nico had so evenly poured.

“Is something wrong?”

Amethyst eyes examined Nico, and with a pout, Maki decided on a teasing tone, “Your cooking’s not the only thing I’d like to …”

Oh my god. Nico almost swatted Maki with the spatula. “My siblings are in the next room. What is wrong with you?”.

A huge blush flared all over Maki’s face and most of her chest, which the unbuttoned looseness of Eli’s shirt allowed Nico a nearly full view of.

And then Nico smelled the burning. She hadn’t factored bizzaro conversation with crazy sexy really bad at flirty but so so hot...burning hot...burning...Nico jumped as Maki said, “You should flip those.”

“I should flip you.” Nico muttered.

“What?”

Nico scraped the pancakes off the grill. Total loss.

“These are great, Nico.” said the only person in the house with food.

“Of course they are.” Nico kept her voice even, “Now leave Nico alone so no one starves.”

“Okay.” Maki actually sounded contrite so Nico sneaked a peek. Maki was looking glumly at her pancakes.”

“What is it now?”

“You came to cook breakfast for your siblings, not me.”

“Just eat the pancakes, Maki. Nico owes you breakfast. Everyone will get their pancakes. Cute guests always come first.” Nico groaned at her own phrasing, but Maki didn’t react to the subtext, she just bit into her breakfast with another, shyer, blush. Adorable. Nico knew she shouldn’t be enjoying this. Because Nico was on the job. No distractions allowed. A swimsuit shoot with...Nico shook her head, knocking out memories of panting, moaning, fingers sliding down soft, sleek skin, solid, sexy muscles alert to every touch. Nico sighed, barely stopping herself from slamming her head forward, which would have been into the grill. This was going to kill her, wasn’t it?

“Are you all right?” Maki sounded sweet. Like syrup.

Nico straightened up, shaking her head slowly, “Nico’s just dandy. If you keep eating and stop talking, we might get everyone fed.”

“Okay.” Maki grinned, “Then I’m going to win again.”

“Ha! Didn’t anybody tell you Nico is the reigning champ.”

“You’re going down.” Maki continued to calmly, obviously eat pancakes while Nico screamed inside her head, so many pictures rushing across her innervision.

“Pancakes.” Cotarou demanded from the doorway.

Nico said a prayer of thanks to the gods for teenage appetites and waved a spatula at her brother, “Sit next to Maki. Nico’s almost done with this batch.”

“You play pretty well. Is that your favorite game?” Maki asked.

Cotarou shook his head.

“What is?”

“Golf.”

“Oh, I love golf.”

“It’s very silly golf.” Nico relaxed now that the conversation had been diverted, “Full of weird things for golf haters.”

“Sounds like I might like it.” Maki chuckled.

Nico smiled as Cotarou did.

###

Kotori’s calm place was Marie Kondo style laundry folding while a charming samurai of a more ancient vintage than currently available napped soundly on her hotel suite’s couch. Umi didn’t snore, her breaths slow and even, the blanket Kotori had covered her with not moving even a centimeter. Sonoda Umi was as solid as a granite stone in a rushing river and with so many unknowns on this trip, Kotori found that a comfort. Plus, there would be Umi in a swimsuit, eventually, showcasing those muscular curves. Kotori couldn’t wait to get to the fabric draping part of design work once they got to LA. As rapidly as Kotori wanted to dress Umi, she had learned Umi’s pace to anything personal would be more measured. But Kotori would be content to stare at the dreamfuel profile, framed by glossy hair, for as long as Umi needed.

###

Maki felt more awake. Great (not that she’d tell Nico) food, fun with Nico and Nico siblings, laughter...she stretched out her arms. Next would be the drive to the airport. That would only make this mood better. And then she felt the hand on her waist, spinning her, Yazawa Nico staring up with what might be a lethal intensity if Maki hadn’t just casually bumped hips with her on the way out the door in a comradely fashion.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” Nico pulled Maki close while pushing them both forward, Maki feeling the car against her back, suddenly breathless.

“What?” Squeaked out.

“EVERYTHING!” Nico flicked the placket of Maki’s shirt, undoing another button. “Buttons flirting being great with my siblings biting your lip fingers hair breathing…”

Nico ran out of words at Maki’s wide eyed look of...surprise, it really was surprise wasn’t it? Damn. This was new level of want, a new surge of must have, must hear, must share this sensation...and suddenly Nico had Maki against the car, lips working up her throat, needing to feel the moan that was about to slip out of Maki’s perfect lips. Nico knew this was crazy, a hormonal teenage level of crazy, in her mama’s garage, with her siblings upstairs, but then Maki dug her fingers in Nico’s back and the only word Nico could think of was the only thing she always wanted to do with Maki.

###

Maki felt the movement and sat up, an oversized coat falling off her torso, her shirt unbuttoned. She hadn’t been wearing a bra. Nico had taken instant advantage of that. And...

“Better cover up.” Nico raised the coat up to Maki’s neck. “We’re almost there.”

“Who said you could drive?”

Nico snorted, “You said yes to everything else.”

“This is my car. It requires handling.”

Nico stared at Maki, oblivious to traffic for a moment, “Did you seriously just say that? To Nico?”

Maki looked away.

“Maybe stay awake next time, Princess. Or be less distracting. Nico has a plane to catch.”

“You’re a nightmare.” Maki wrapped her arms around her torso, too embarrassed to temper her tone.

“That’s not what she...wait...you said…” Nico did a drum roll on the steering wheel.

“Just shut up.” Maki glared out the window at all of Tokyo, missing Nico’s wink.

Nico just laughed as she expertly shifted gears. Maki pulled sunglasses out of her glove compartment. They were staying on until this mission was over.

A/N: Hi. Had a request for another chapter of this, so here we are.

#NicoMaki #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #Ayase Eli #Tojo Nozomi #Sonoda Umi #Minami Kotori #KotoUmi #NozoEli #OPeration Soldier Game #LA Smile

4 notes · View notes

amelink66world · 5 years ago

Text

Love of my Life

Hey guys! It's been long. Anyway, enjoy the seventh part!

Awestruck

Amelia told her sisters all about New York, leaving some parts of course. She couldn't risk the sisters knowing about her and Link, there would be relentless teasing and of course Meredith would have some thoughts about her moving on so fast. She didn't want to deal with that. No one knew about them. It was fairly early. She wanted to test the waters first with him. She was pretty confident it would work out between them. Still she was a neurosurgeon, she liked cross checking her work.

It's been three days since New York. They couldn't seem to get enough of each other. Amelia was really impressed by his bravery and courage but what struck out for was the way he accepted her with open arms. There was no judgement. Only adoration. Admiration. She was developed some really strong feelings for him now. Keep yourself in check Amelia, you're not the same TUMOR AMELIA anymore. Behave like an adult and give it some time.

Link was feeling nothing different from Amelia. He was just like Amelia in this aspect, though both the parties didn't know this similarity of theirs. Both of them loved fiercely. Both fell in love quickly and wholly. They loved their partners with their whole mind and body. They gave them everything they had without losing their dignity. They were just the same.

Link couldn't keep that beautiful brunette put of his mind. He always found himself seeking her company, be it in the hospital hallways or the coffee cart. Whenever he paged neuro, he prayed to God like hell that it was Amelia who answered the page. His hopes weren't crushed either. She always seemed to be there when he tried to search for her. It was like she was seeking him out too!

They didn't go on many dates yet but every time they spent with each other, it felt like bliss. Link didn't need dates to conclude that he had met the woman of his dreams. He realised that he was falling madly in love with her. He wanted her all to himself. Link knew her routine by heart.

Today she had a morning shift. She's always late by fifteen or twenty minutes because, no kidding she's Amelia Shepherd. Also, probably she was as usual helping out with the kids at Mer's place. Her shift starts at 8 a.m. and she's always in line at the coffee cart by 8:25 after changing into her scrubs. Link waits for almost daily. Today was no different. He was saving a spot for her but it was already 8:40 and there was no sign of Amelia. Where is she ?!

Link was getting worried. He was passing the first spot and allowing others to move up the line, waiting for her. Suddenly she comes running, her lab coat hanging from one arm, the other trying to fit into that contraption. She smiled her million watt smile at Link and leaned in for a quick kiss. She was desperately trying to fit her left hand into the coat, wiggling continuously. Link laughed at her antics. She's just too adorable.

" Here, let me." Link stopped her fidgeting and leaned in close to her face. His arms moved around her back helping her hand into the coat, all the looking deeply into her eyes. Amelia lost all train of thought and froze. She didn't even realise when the coat was on but he didn't seem to move. He leaned his face close to her and kissed her cheek, making her breathless. She was yearning for a kiss. She expected him to kiss her lips not her cheek!! That stupid stupid man. He always leaves me hanging, wanting more! Game on, buddy.

Eyebrows furrowed, still breathless, Amelia whispered, " I see what you did there. Oh you'll so pay for this. Just wait and watch. You don't know how competitive I get. " Still close to her face, Link breathed, " Oh I completely intend to find that out. "

He loved toying with her like this. She was just so easy to rile up. Link loved seeing that inpatient amd sexually frustrated look on her adorably face. It was always made him want to kiss her. But he held back, she was not that much into PDA.

They were standing there, looking into each other's eyes when a loud clearing of throat brought them out of their trance. It was Jo. Alex was too busy grimacing at them to say anything. Jo said, " Get a room people. We don't want to see a porno movie here in front of everybody. The guys won't mind of course," she said looking pointedly at Alex and Link, who quickly got flushed making Amelia guffaw, " but I for one don't want to see you people tear each other's clothes just with your eyes. Cool it, man. Now move over, I need coffee ", she laughed.

Amelia and Link laughed and somewhat separated. Link still had his arm around her waist though. They were talking animatedly with Jo and Alex about the possible treatment plan for Gus, the golden blood boy when it was their turn to order. Link ordered a double latte and Amelia was about to order her very difficult drink order which no one seemed to get right when Link interrupted her, " And a decaf, no foam latte with an extra shot and cream for Dr. Shepherd here, please." Amelia whipped her head in his direction but he was too busy paying the bill. NO ONE EVER got my coffee order right. Not even Owen after so many years together and here look at Link!! He has no trouble getting my order right. I just don't believe this man. No one had paid so much attention to small details about her before like this.

Amelia was awestruck. Link smiled down at her and tightened his arm around her waist when he looked at her beaming face. Her heart fluttered at his gesture and she was feeling those butterflies in her stomach. I'm not in high school anymore! But it sure feels like it. They got their orders, chatted some more with Jo and Alex and headed for the surgical floor.

When the elevator arrived, it was empty. They were the only ones on the elevator. They stepped into it and were soon fell under the enchanting spell of the infamous elevators of Grey - Sloan. Amelia could feel heart rise to her cheeks. Link seemed to be oblivious somewhat but he could feel Amelia tensing. Hurriedly, she pushed the STOP button and pushed Link on the wall of the elevator. She captured his lips with hers, kissing him passionately.

Link was astonished initially but quickly recovered and kissed her back with equal vigour. He tightly wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her body as close to hers as physically possible. She moaned into his mouth and tilted his head backwards to deepen the kiss. Link growled and switched their positions, pinning her with his body. Amelia moaned loudly this time, arousing Link further. She tangled her fingers in his soft hair and he moved to her neck. She moved her head to give him more room and he moved his arms down her back lower and lower until they reached their prize. He squeezed her cheeks, bringing her body much much closer and Amelia groaned, tugging at his hair tips. He pulled his face up and kissed him again.

She ran her hands down his chest, caressing his abs till she reached his..." I think we should stop. We should not strt something we won't be able to finish," he whispered breathlessly, leaning his forehead against hers. Amelia hummed disapprovingly and kissed him again, this time softly. She gave a defeated sigh, " Okay. Yeah, you're right." She panted before kissing him again and caressing his skull. Link's control was slipping. She knew how much he liked it when she did THAT. If she didn't stop doing that right now, he wouldn't be able to stop the consequences. " Okay, okay, okay. Now stop." He loosened his hold on her and leaned back to look at her face properly.

Her eyes were closed and she was panting. Her face was completely flushed red. She looked breathtaking to him. He leaned in one last time to kiss her swollen lips. She had that effect on him, he had no self control around her. Amelia gently opened her eyes and smiled toothily. She was beaming. She didn't know what came over her. She just knew that she needed him right there on the elevator. After all, he did deserve a prize! They freed themselves from their arms amd Link pressed the STOP button again to put the elevator in motion.

They had content smiles in their faces when they got out of the elevator. They looked at the faces of the people waiting. They did not look happy. Obviously they had been waiting a long time. They pointedly looked at the couple, knowing what they were up to. Amelia and Link acted innocent and rapidly left. They burst into laughter when they were out of earshot. Link recovered from his laughter before her and stared at her laughing face. He was awestruck. He was captivated. He could look at her all day. He could hear that soft laugh all day. He would do anything to hear that laugh.

They went over to the OR board to see that they had no surgeries till 11 a.m. Alao, their fist surgery was together. So they had the morning free. Amelia looked at him mischievously, wiggling her eyes suggestively. Link took the hint and captured her gleaming eyes with the camera in his mind. They hurried towards the on-call room without anyone noticing. No one dared to ho near that room for the next hour. They came out one by one completely flushed. Amelia's face was totally red and she was still panting when she reached the nurse's station. Link came out moments later. He brushed his fingers against hers before asking the nurse for his tablet.

Alex was there, finishing his charts. He furrowed his brows and scowled at them. " Not again, dude. What is the matter with you people? Didn't know you had so much in you, huh Shepherd." He laughed making the couple blush. " Shut it, Alex. Don't make me remind your on-call romps with Jo." Directed towards Link, she said, " I once caught this filthy man and Jo doing it on my couch! I used to sleep on that couch before Alex moved out and I got his room. Couldn't sleep for days." Link his gagged. " Ugghh, bad mental image. I don't need to imagine my best friend with her husband like that. Ughh", he covered his ears, leaving swiftly, making Amelia laugh.

Alex grew serious in seconds and inquired, " No, but seriously Shepherd. Are you happy with him? " He looked at her with concern deep in his eyes. He was the only person who knew the whole story about Christopher. He was looking out for her. She was like a little sister to him. He felt weirdly protective of her. It was nice for Amelia to see the worry for her on Alex's otherwise chilled out face. He always acted like a brother towards her. She smiled at him, " Yes, Alex. Thanks for looking out for me," she smiled at him before teasing, " Awww Alex, are you worried for meeee? Sooo sweet of you," she nudged him playfully.

Alex flushed and said, " Whatever ", before leaving. In all this commotion, she missed to notice Owen standing a few feet away from her. He witnessed the whole interaction of hers with Link and Alex. He had a very weird look on his face and his fist clenched. Amelia turned to check on her patients when she finally noticed him.

He slowly approached her, " So you and Link, huh? " He had an edge to his voice and tried to fish out information from her. " It's none of your business, Owen. You don't get an opinion here, so just back off." He quickly pulled her in direction of the stairwell and hit the subject again.

" I'm just asking, Amelia."

" No, you lost that right. You don't get an opinion here. So please just..."

He interrupted her, " No, Amelia just let me finish. I just wanted to say that I've been doing some therapy. I realise my mistakes now and I wanted to apologize for the things that I said to you. You didn't deserve that. "

Amelia was turning to leave before he tried apologized. She halted in her tracks hearing his words. Her gaze softened. She could not believe what he said next, "...It was wrong of me to say what I said to you in the lawyer's office. I guess I was talking about me, not you. You deserve love. Your love is very, very valuable. You are a beautiful and kind woman, Amelia. You deserve someone who loves you selflessly. I was never that man. And if you have found that man in Link, he's really lucky. I wish you all the happiness in the world, Amelia. Please don't get me wrong." He spoke with utmost sincerity. His words knocked the wind out her. They brought tears to her eyes. Owen swiftly took Amelia in his arms, comforting her. She finally had clarity, some much needed closure.

They hugged each other tightly for a few more seconds before releasing each other. Amelia gratefully looked at him and whispered, " Thabk you, Owen. I really needed to hear that. " He softly gazed at her and nodded. " Link is a good man, Amelia. I'm always here for you if you need me. Never forget that. And of he ever hurts you, I promise you I'll kick his ass." Amelia laughed at this and hugged him one last time before bidding him farewell.

She was much relaxed and at ease now. This was day was going awfully and indescribably well. She finally got what she needed all along. She awaited for some alone time with Link. She wanted to share her happiness with him. She suddenly felt like sharing with him her everything. She was looking forward to the surgery she had with him at 11:00.

The surger was successful with flying colours. They updated the family and had some free time in their hands. Amelia was dragging Link to God knows where. " Ameliaaa, please tell me where we're going. I'm really confused. "

" Just wait. We reached. "

She opened the door and led him inside. " Which room is this? I've never been here." Link looked around with inquisition. He turned towards but she was just staring at him, smiling from ear to ear. Now, he was definitely curious. What is happening?

Suddenly he heard a soft bark, " Woof woof "

Link sharply turned towards the voice and with great enthusiasm saw three nurses walking with quite a lot of puppies towards them. They were surrounded with some small bars to contain the puppies inside so that they don't run away. They say down and were welcomed by those sweet puppies with open arms. Link was ecstatic. He absolutely adored dogs. He looked at Amelia with a cheerful and delighted expression. " Wow. I'm really happy, Amelia. But I'm curious. What is it for? And how are there puppies in this hospital? Why did I not know that before? You knew it and you didn't tell me?! ", he fired at her with his questions.

" I'm so happy too. To answer you questions, the hospital arranges this thing once a week for the kids. It's what we call a rejuvenating exercise. Kids adore pets, so we bring in different ki ds of pets every week. This week was Puppies Week. I have no clue how you didn't know about this ", she laughed. She longingly stared at him for a few seconds before lunging at him, he easily caught her and her close. She buried her face in his neck and he inhaled her scent. Both content in each other's arms. She whispered in his ear, " I was really happy today. I felt this need to share my joy with you. I know how much you love dogs. So here we are! ", she gladly exclaimed.

She drew back to look into his eyes. Both had silly little grins on their faces when they kissed. They were interrupted by a small creature crawling in each of their laps. " Aww you want a hug, buddy? Here we gooo." Both had puppies jumping on them. They were exultant. They couldn't have been happier. Amelia was awestruck at how much happiness this man was capable of bringing into her life. She felt at home with him. She realised with a start what Link had long ago realised, sometimes home can be another person.

Author's Note:

Here is a brand new chapter!! Sorry for the delay guys. I was a bit busy. I totally enjoyed writing this chapter. I hope you people shower it with as much love as you have in the past.

Anyway, the next two chapters will be a bit on the gloomy side. ( * Please don't kill me XD * ) I promise I won't take such a long time to update. Next chapters will be up soon. Until then.

#amelia-shepherd-fanfic #amelia shepherd #atticus lincoln #amelia and link #amelink #greys antony #romance

19 notes · View notes

wordsandshawn · 5 years ago

Text

Before Now - chapter 12

previous chapters

Warnings: descriptions of anxiety

12.

The next morning, I wake up feeling exhausted. Shawn has a full day of press scheduled, and I’m supposed to follow him around all day to film some behind the scenes and fan interactions. I’m still really practicing my filming and editing skills, so a lot of what I do doesn’t get released, but I’m just glad to be doing it. I head down to the coffee shop in the lobby before its time to meet up with the rest of the team to head over to the studio. I get a large latte with an extra shot of espresso because I know I won’t make it through the day without a lot of help after the night I had. Generally, I try to avoid caffeine, but today, I just know I need it. I’m supposed to be filming all day, and Shawn has a show tonight, so there’s no way I’ll make through the entire day and night without some help.

When we arrive at the studio, I get out of the van first because I’m seated closest to the door. There are crowds of girls and paparazzi outside of the building. Luckily there is a whole security team already there to manage the crowd, and Jake is with us. I focus on holding tight to my camera, directing all of my attention and effort into holding it steady, on getting the shot in order to block out the noise of the crowd that immediately increases tenfold when Shawn steps out of the van behind Jake.

I pour all of my energy into keeping my hands steady as the chaos causes my anxiety to spike. Once we’re inside, I drop my camera, letting it dangle from the strap around my neck. I feel disoriented. We’re immediately ushered into an elevator and the whole crew piles inside. I’m two steps into the elevator when I realize this might not be the best idea, but it’s too late because people are following me in and I can’t just turn around and walk back out without people questioning me, so I swallow hard and try to focus on something, anything that will get me to stop my mind from screaming, anything that will help me feel less trapped and surrounded and helpless.

A hand on my shoulder jerks me back to reality and I instinctively shy away from the physical contact. I look up, realizing the hand belongs to Josiah. He pulls his hand back, clearly noticing the way I moved away from him, and he asks, “Are you okay?”

I just nod, even though I’m not. When the elevator finally opens, I have to wait for the people in front of me to exit, and they seem to be taking their time. All I want to do is run, but I force that urge down and move along with the crowd, still trying to calm my racing heart and slow my breathing. I think I tell Josiah I need to use the restroom, but everything is a little foggy, so I’m not sure I get the words out. I don’t double-check with him or anyone before rushing off in a direction I’m just praying will have some privacy and space for me to calm down.

I finally locate the bathroom, not caring if I’m now lost in this building and I don’t even know where the interview is taking place. At this point, I can’t bring myself to care. I’ve fought these crowds several times now over the past three weeks, but I’ve never experienced it like this before. It’s never felt like this before.

I take my time in the bathroom, treasuring the sound of silence. I splash water on my face and force myself to take my breaths slow, trying to count and breathe like I remember hearing somewhere, but it’s not working. I finally compose myself enough to leave the bathroom, wandering off in search of everyone. Luckily this office space has large glass windows, allowing me to just glance as I’m walking by each room. When I finally find people I recognize, I linger outside the door because it looks like they’re finishing up. I must have been gone for longer than I realized.

I don’t want to interrupt, so I wait until they all start leaving and follow along, hoping no one noticed that I didn’t get any footage. Josiah falls into step next to me as we head back out. “You okay?” He asks the same question he asked earlier in the elevator.

“Yeah,” I say, brushing him just like I did earlier. When he stares at me with a look that says he doesn’t believe me, I add, “I don’t know what happened.”

“We all get overwhelmed sometimes with the crowds. It's normal.” He reassures me, and I try to believe him. I want to believe him. I’m more prepared this time as we make our way out of the building and through the crowd again. I only film a small section before I step outside. Once I’m out in the crowd I’m not focused on filming Shawn, I’m focused on getting myself to the car as quickly as possible. That helps a little bit, and I don’t feel as bad as I did when I walked into the building. I console myself with that fact as I climb into the very back seat. The van is big enough that no one needed to sit in the very back on the ride over, so luckily everyone else files into the seats in front of me, and they’re all too busy with their own conversations to even glance back at me. That’s for the better since I’m still freaking out inside.

When we get to the venue, there’s a little time to eat, and then Shawn has his meet and greet and Q&A session, then he’s going straight into warm ups. For every show so far, I’ve been a big part of the afternoon routine. I’m always busy scoping out the venue during the meet and greet, trying to figure out where I want to be for the show and what shots I want to take. I’ve also been helping to set up the Q&A room, making sure there will be enough space for everyone and setting up some things to keep it from being just a plain boring room. That’s not really part of my job description, but I’ve liked finding other ways to help out and learn about tour beyond just the photography, even though there is more than enough to keep me busy with photography alone.

Upon arriving, everyone files straight into the venue, but I decide to go onto the bus instead because I am still feeling anxious, way more than normal and I’ve been unable to shake these feelings. I know I have a lot to do, but I find myself climbing into my bunk and trying to get my thoughts to stop racing so my breathing can return to normal.

After giving myself around thirty minutes alone in my bunk, I force myself out and off the bus. Everyone will probably be finished eating now, and I really need to get started on setting up the Q&A room. Every step takes energy and determination just to force myself inside and push through these feelings of anxiety.

When I get inside, I set up the Q&A room quickly while Shawn is doing his meet and greet. I’m rushing around, trying to make sure that everything is okay with the room, and I manage to keep busy enough that I think I might be feeling a little better.

The Q&A has become one of my favorite things about tour. I always sit in the back, but I love watching the girls squirm and squeal in excitement as they wait for Shawn to enter the room. I also love watching the interaction between Shawn and his fans. There’s something special about it, even though I can’t explain it.

When the room fills up, I’m unexpectedly hit again by those feelings of anxiety that I can’t explain. I stay in the back of the room, my camera hanging from the strap around my neck as I try to get myself to focus on the task at hand. After sitting at the back of the room for a while, I realize that I can’t even remember a single question a person asked, and I have no idea what kind of footage I got or if I got any at all.

I push my way out of the room before the Q&A ends because I can’t stand the thought of having to be present in the chaos as everyone tries to leave the room.

I find myself alone in a bathroom struggling to breathe for the second time today. I don’t know what’s wrong with me and maybe that’s what makes it all worse. I stay there for well over thirty minutes, and I realize that the openers are about to go on, which means the arena is already around half full and I haven’t even walked out to the front to see where I’ll want to be later. That thought stresses me out, and I take a few more minutes before exiting the bathroom.

I start walking down the hall, not exactly sure where I want to go right now since my thoughts are so scattered. Andrew sees me in the hall and he says, “Hey, Skylar, Shawn was looking for you. He wanted to talk to you. He’s in his dressing room.”

I tell him that I’ll go there now, and my thoughts start racing even faster, which I didn’t think was even possible. Shawn probably realized that I’ve barely filmed today and he’s looking for me to tell me that I’ve been slacking, and I really need to get it together. All things I know, but I’m not looking forward to him telling me that.

I find Shawn’s dressing room easily and knock lightly. I still always knock because I’m not comfortable with just entering despite how many times they told me to just go in. Dave opens the door, “Hey Skylar, come on in.” He says with a smile.

I can see Shawn seated on the couch playing guitar. He looks up when he hears my name. Putting the guitar down, he walks over to the door where I’m standing. “Hey, you wanted to talk to me?” I question, and he nods. My heart is still beating in a way that’s become familiar to me today.

“Yeah, let’s talk in the hall.”

At least he’s opting not to embarrass me in front of his whole band, I can be grateful for that at the very least. I follow him out into the hallway, my heart beating wildly in my chest. Once we’re outside, he studies me for a few seconds, not speaking right away, which only makes me nervous. Why is he staring at me like that? It makes me want to say something, but I don’t know what to say, so I stay silent.

When he finally speaks, a jolt of surprise runs through me because he says, “Are you okay?”

He was looking for me, and he brought me out into the hallway to ask me this?

“What?” I say impulsively before realizing there is no need for clarification. It’s a simple question, and I heard it loud and clear. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He’s still staring at me, so I drop my eyes to the floor, still so confused. I’ll just apologize, that’s almost always the best option anyway. “I’m sorry I haven’t been filming much today. I’ll do better.” I say, still not making eye contact because I can still feel his stare on me, and I don’t like it. I don’t know what he’s thinking or what he wants right now.

“What?” Now he’s the one that sounds confused and I still don’t know what’s even going on. “No, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. You’ve just seemed…” He pauses, unsure of what to say next. “Distant today, so I wanted to check in with you.”

“I’m fine.” I insist quickly.

He’s still staring at me, and I want to tell him to stop. To stop caring and stop staring, but I don’t.

He doesn’t argue, and I know it doesn’t take a genius to realize that I’m lying, so I’m grateful he doesn’t call me out. He nods, “Okay,” He pauses, then says, “Well maybe you should take the night off. You’ve worked really hard this week.”

Part of me wants to argue, to tell him that I’m fine again and that he doesn’t need to go easy on me or anything like that just because of our history, whatever history that we have. But the larger part of me realizes that I don’t know if I’ll actually make it through the night if I work.

I’m about to agree with him when I remember my promise to myself, my promise that I’d work hard, and earn my place around here. I’m not here for charity. No one else is taking the night off, so why should I? I don’t want Shawn to keep me around as a favor to my mom and his mom. It isn’t about whether or not I feel like I can do this. The truth is, I have to.

“I’m fine, Shawn. You don’t have to worry about me.” It comes off colder than I intended, but I don’t apologize. “I can work tonight.”

He seems taken aback by my cold tone, and I don’t blame him. Finally, he nods, “Okay.”

“So, is that it?” I ask, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but here with him.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” He responds running his fingers through his hair while watching me closer than I’d. I don’t say anything else. Instead, I just turn around and walk away.

I head back to double-check all of my equipment and try to distract myself from everything that has happened throughout the day. By the time the show is about to start, I still don’t feel much better, but I’m determined to film the show, just like I have every show so far this tour. Just like I’m paid to do.

I try to remind myself that everything is fine, that I’ve done this before and tonight is no different. But no matter how much I try to convince myself there’s nothing different about tonight, I know that I feel different. Everything feels a little bit off, and I can’t exactly put my finger on it, but I have a bad feeling about it.

Chapter 13

#Shawn Mendes #Shawn Peter Raul Mendes #Shawn Mendes imagine #Shawn Peter Raul Mendes imagine #Shawn Mendes story #Before Now

30 notes · View notes

rhetoricalrogue · 4 years ago

Text

31 Days of Wayhaven, Day 17

Prompt: AU Rating: PG for Nicky’s language Words: 2,222 Characters: Unit Charlie, brief mention of Units Alpha and Bravo, as well as Detective Aubrey Miller. Summary: What happens when the coffee shop co-worker and the University co-worker get tired of their partners sighing over the other and decide to take matters into their own hands.

For the @31daysofwayhaven event.

Penny rolled her eyes as she came into work, hanging her coat on the nearby staff coat rack. Nicky had gotten there earlier than she had, which meant that he got to pick the music for the day, which also meant that she was going to be in for a day of listening to him sing along with Dean Martin. Not that it was a bad thing, but they’d done an entire shift of the Rat Pack the other day already.

“You’re late.”

She grimaced as she pulled on a dark brown apron and quickly pulled the strings around her waist to make a tidy bow at her hip. “Yeah, car trouble.”

Nicky shook his head. “You really ought to sell that thing, get you a new one.”

“With what money? No, the car trouble was because my brother decided to borrow it without asking me. I woke up to a note and had to grab the bus. Then the bus wasn’t on time, so I walked the rest of the way.”

He poured her a drink, a smooth hazelnut latte with a dusting of chocolate on top that he made perfectly to her tastes. At least that was something to cheer her up on a rainy morning, especially since he was practicing his foam art and made her a graceful looking swan on top. She caught a glimpse of herself in the stainless steel overhead countertops and winced. The soft, drizzling rain wasn’t enough to soak her or anything, but it had played hell with her long, silvery blonde hair. The sleek braided bun she had put it in earlier was now a frizzed out mess and her cheeks were unnaturally red from practically running to the cafe in order to be there on time.

Penny hated being late to anything.

“You’re too soft on Lars,” Nicky told her, pushing half a toasted bagel loaded with cream cheese her way while eating the other half. “He needs to have some responsibility, especially if he’s couch surfing at your place.”

Penny chewed on her bagel. “You don’t understand, he’s my baby brother. It’s my job to look out for him. Besides,” she took a sip of her drink. “He was going out for a job interview. Hopefully this one takes.” She adored her youngest brother to pieces, and she understood that he was in a rough patch, but at the same time, she was quietly frustrated that he showed up at her doorstep without calling first, ate all her food without shopping for replacements, and left his dirty laundry on the bathroom floor. She was going to have to have a talk with him once they were home to set some boundaries down. If not, then she would happily call their eldest brother Andreas to see if he could help out before calling the big guns in and contacting their mother.

She hated to jump around in the family pecking order, but enough was enough.

“I can relate, seeing as I have a little sister, but I still say you’re being too soft on him. There’s a fine line between older sibling responsibility and being a doormat.”

“I know, and you’re right. Taking my car without my permission and making me late for work is definitely something I’m going to talk with him about.”

Nicky made a mmhm noise as if he didn’t quite believe her. “Don’t worry, Pen.” Nicky told her, changing the subject as he made his own cortado and leaned against the counter to sip on it. “You didn’t miss him.”

She was glad that her red cheeks could hide the sudden blush that she felt rush up from her throat to her face. “Miss who?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me, donna forte!” He elbowed her in the side. “The Tall London Fog with the soft Scottish accent. The one who looks like a golden retriever if a golden retriever was over six feet tall and had dimples when he smiled.”

“Careful, you make me think you’re the one with the crush on him,” Penny muttered as she sipped on her drink.

“Please, I know I’m handsome and charming, but I’m not an asshole. I wouldn’t steal anyone from my dearest friend and co-worker.”

“You’re not stealing anyone from anybody,” she grumped.

“Maybe if you actually got off your ass and asked him out.”

“He’s a customer!”

“Like that’s ever stopped anyone that works here! I mean, have you seen what the Bravo shift is up to lately? There’s good money on when Adam’ll get the courage up to ask Miss Grande Half-Caff Nonfat Latte with Caramel Drizzle out before the end of the month.”

Penny rolled her eyes. “Adam? Admitting he has feelings for anyone? I give him a year, minimum.”

“Hello, Pot. I’d like to introduce you to Kettle.” He turned to wash out the things he’d used to make their drinks and kicked at her calf. “Speaking of not admitting feelings, here comes London Fog and Dirty Chai.”

Penny masked the sudden lurch in her pulse by twirling around and grabbing the loose leaf tea from an overhead shelf and measured enough into a French Press, adding a spice mix and a little bit of fresh ginger before pouring in hot water to steep. She grabbed the canister of lavender Earl Grey she knew he liked and did the same in a separate French Press while Nicky called out a greeting, confirming that they both wanted their usuals.

“Actually,” London Fog said, coming up to the counter. “Could I add something a little more substantial? Perhaps one of those sausage rolls and a slice of pumpkin loaf? I fear today is going to be a long one, seeing as it’s grading season.”

“Oh? You’re a teacher then?”

“He’s a professor,” Dirty Chai interjected, already setting up her laptop. She’d moved from their usual two-person table to a larger four-person one so the both of them could spread out. “Don’t let him get modest; he’s brilliant in his field.”

Penny looked over her shoulder as she brewed a double shot espresso to add to the chai. “Where do you lecture at?”

The soft question had him looking up at her with an equally soft smile before he quickly looked down, suddenly very interested in the counter’s bakery display. “Wayhaven University. I’m one of the Professors in the Folklore and Ethnomusicology department.”

Nicky took over building their order when another person came in and distracted Penny. “What a coincidence,” he all but purred. “Our dearest Penelope is studying on that campus!” He caught the sudden interest London Fog gave and leaned conspiratorially against the counter. “She’s going back for her master’s degree, if I remember correctly.”

“Oh? What study?”

“You know, for the life of me, I can’t recall. Sounds like an interesting question to ask her though, Professor…?” Nicky trailed off, realizing that neither he or Penny knew their regulars by name, only by order.

“Buchanan. Cameron.”

“Call him Cam,” Dirty Chai said, taking her order and sipping with a happy sigh. “I’m Winona.”

“Nice to finally meet you both. I’ll go warm up that sausage roll for you.” On his way to the back kitchen, Nicky nudged Penny with his shoulder, silently winking at her. She turned her face so Cam and Winona wouldn’t be able to see her expression and narrowed her eyes at her partner before going back to helping the short line of customers that had already started to form for the morning, shaking her head as the first heartfelt strings of Come Back to Sorrento could be heard coming out of the kitchen, Nicky’s smooth baritone making one of the ladies in line sigh dreamily.

Penny transitioned from building orders to taking payment while Nicky bustled in behind her on cleanup and prep duty, the two of them working well. Every so often, her eyes would stray to Cameron and Winona’s table, the two of them with their heads down and fingers clacking over their laptops. Two hours later, Cameron was looking at his watch and cursing under his breath while quickly packing his things away.

“Thanks for letting us stay so long,” he said, sticking money in the tip jar.

“It was nothing,” she told him, fiercely hoping he didn’t catch the way the tips of her ears were a bright pink. “I’m glad you could stay with me - us long enough to get some grading done.”

He smiled and she couldn’t help but mirror the same smile back. “I’d have loved to spend more time, but my office hours are going to be starting soon and I usually have a few students wanting to talk around this time of the year.”

“We’re always here in the mornings!” Oh, smooth one, Fisher, she thought, mentally kicking herself for forgetting how to talk to people when the person in question was one she had a silly crush on. Don’t flirt with customers, it’s just an awkward experience for everyone involved!

Cameron nodded. “And stopping by is always a great start to my day. Your partner mentioned you were studying at the university?”

“I am.”

Cameron shouldered his laptop bag and smiled again. “Maybe we’ll run into the other on campus then.”

“I’d like that.”

“I would too.” He blinked, as if he had been reluctant to break eye contact. “Well, I’d better get going, or else I’m going to miss some student appointments. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Bright and early!” Or so she hoped. She really was going to have to speak with Lars about him getting his own transportation. Penny sighed as the bell over the door chimed and tried - and failed - to not watch as Cameron walked down the street.

“He’s not that old.”

Penny jumped at the sudden appearance of Winona at the counter. “Pardon?”

“Cam. He’s not that old, just in case you were worried he was some stuffy professor with a really good skin regimen.”

She let out a nervous laugh. “I wasn’t…” Penny nervously tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear. “I mean, I didn’t want to presume…”

“Like I said, Cam’s brilliant in his field and made career moves way before the usual timeline. I’m guessing he’s around your age.” She put more money in the tip jar. “You know, if that was a deal-breaker for you.” Before Penny could say anything in response, Winona waved and left.

Penny ran a hand down her face before frowning. There was something other than money in the tip jar. Curiosity getting the best of her, she fished it out, finding it was a business card with all of Cameron’s information on it.

FYI, a woman’s loopy handwriting in bright red ink read at the bottom, your partner wrote down your phone number on a napkin when he gave Cam his order. Thought I should even the playing field and give you his too.

Penny’s eyes widened as she flipped the card over. And BTW, he thinks you’re cute too.

“Whatcha got?” Penny all but jumped out of her skin at the sound of Nicky’s voice unexpectedly at her ear as he tried to look at the card in her hands.

“Nothing!” she yelped, clutching it close to her chest before sticking it into her apron’s pocket. Turning around, she grabbed Nicky by the ear. “And what are you doing, giving strange men my phone number!”

Nicky winced, leaning down as he tried to wiggle away from her grasp. “He’s not strange, Pen! He’s a regular! Practically family! Ow, fuck!”

She let his ear go. “You could have asked me if it was okay first!”

Nicky rubbed at his ear and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and at the glacier pace that either of you were moving, you may have gone out for drinks when you were both eighty.”

She washed her hands at the prep sink and started making sure that everything they’d used was washed and ready for a new order. Lunchtime was a sort of quiet lull, they got a few regular orders in, but it wasn’t anywhere near the morning rush. She checked the schedule. The Alpha shift was coming in for the afternoon to evening times, which meant that she needed to come in a little earlier tomorrow morning to make sure that things had been properly cleaned and organized and that the morning breakfast items were fully stocked. She loved them to pieces, but Tane and Maaka weren’t the most organized of duos. She made a mental note to check the to-go cups as well: Tane had a habit of using a marker to black out the Warning, your contents are extremely hot and make it read Warning, you are extremely hot instead.

The good thing is that on dead nights, the brothers would come up with some interesting off the menu recipes and leave notes for her and Nicky to try in the morning.�� Maaka was more organized than his brother and the notes were always fun to read, especially when he added his own commentary.

“You never know,” she told Nicky, the business card in her pocket weighing far heavier than it ought to. “I just may surprise you.”

Cha cha cha d'amour

Take this song to my lover

Shoo shoo little bird

Go and find my love

#31daysofwayhaven #Unit Charlie #fell into a hole today regarding my writing #AU #when coffeeshop au meets college au

6 notes · View notes

thelioncourts · 4 years ago

Text

title: the mannequin gallery fandom: captive prince pairing: damen/laurent rating: mature words: 5366 for chapter six (6/?); 35387 all together

Damen was almost certain that his dream had been a pleasant one. There wasn’t anything all that concrete he could hold on to in memory of it, but he recalled lots of sunlight and the smell of freshly baked bread. He would have liked to have continued in that dreamworld for a few more hours, but it had been interrupted by a sudden –

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The person at the door, Damen first thought upon hazily waking up to the sound, must have a death wish.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Still too asleep and too caught up in trying to remember if the warmth from his dream had been from the sun on his skin or the warmth of an oven, Damen couldn’t even process a second coherent thought yet. Instead, he groaned. It was that overly loud kind of groan someone might do after not having used their voice for a few hours. Then he turned his face into the pillow, willing the person on the other side to magically disappear.

Knock knock knock.

“Damen.” Nik groaned too, his groan somehow sounding more frustrated in its tone than Damen’s own. “If you don’t answer that right now, I will not be responsible for the murder I commit.”

Damen ignored Nik for a moment, flipping over onto his stomach and bringing the pillow up and over his head so it muffled the sounds from outside.

Knock knock knock.

With yet one last groan, Damen threw his legs over the bed and stared blearily at the red lights of the alarm clock on the joint nightstand between the two beds. 5:47. When there was again another knock knock knock, he finally stood up and shuffled his way across the room.

Damen really was normally hard to frustrate or anger, but exceptions could be made for ridiculousness such as incessant knocking before six in the morning. It’s why, as he crossed the floor and flung open the door whilst rubbing sleepily at his eyes, he didn’t even have anything particular he planned on saying to the person on the other side, he was just going to say whatever came to mind. And, if he had actually stopped to think about that before he did it, he would have probably tried to stop himself because he was (rightfully) pissed off and nothing good ever came from greeting anyone while (rightfully) pissed off and –

After he pulled the door open, it took his sight a moment to adjust and come to the realization that it was Laurent DeVere standing outside his hotel room.

Laurent, very much unlike Damen, appeared to have been up for some time already. He looked impeccably put together, a black peacoat falling just below his waist and leading down to black pants and black shoes similar to what he had been wearing the other evening, and his eyes – blue and bright – looked perfectly awake.

“Hi,” Damen said dumbly, a total one-eighty in his voice from what he had intended.

“Were you planning on sleeping the day away?”

It took Damen a moment to react, but when he did, he squinted as though trying to make sense of conversation. “It’s not even six in the morning.”

He realized they were talking too loudly, and he began to whisper in courtesy for the old woman staying in the room next to their own. Damen and Nik had run into her once or twice as she gallivanted from party to party, and she was quite a firecracker.

“I thought I was giving you two a grand tour of my city today. So unless you plan on wasting my time, I suggest you put on whatever you consider clothing and come get a coffee so we can begin,” Laurent said, already turning and walking back down the hotel hallway.

“But what about –” Damen began to call out after him, but Laurent didn’t turn around and Damen didn’t want to yell anymore. With a heaving sigh, he closed the door and went back into the room where Nik was sitting up on his own bed, his hair a mess of darkness and his mouth pulled in a sleepy frown. Then he flopped back onto his pillow and gritted out, “Please tell me I didn’t hear who I think I heard.”

[Continue on AO3]

“Laurent asks that we go downstairs and meet him for coffee immediately,” Damen said, already rummaging through his bag and pulling out some clothes.

“Well Laurent,” Nik started, “can begin to learn that not everything has to be done on his pompous self-regulated schedule. I’m going to need at least half an hour.”

“I’ll buy you whatever you want if you say that to his face,” Damen said with a laugh. “How about I go right now so he doesn’t go on some kind of diva-freakout, you order a cappuccino from room service, and he and I meet you back here?” Damen offered. He flicked on the bathroom light and Nik groaned again.

“A cappuccino sounds really nice right now.”

Damen’s morning routine was simple enough. He jumped in the shower for no more than five minutes, and then he was out and brushing his teeth, combing through his hair, and drying off best he could before pulling his clothes on. It didn’t matter to him if his hair was still wet before walking out the door because he never did much to it anyway; his curls had a mind of their own.

Laurent was waiting for him. Well, actually, Laurent was waiting for them. Watching the door for a moment, Laurent turned to Damen with a delicately quirked eyebrow.

“Your friend not coming?”

It hit Damen, suddenly in that moment, just how odd this situation was.

Not even a month ago, Damen had been entirely in the dark about Nik’s attempt to begin something professional with his photography and now Damen was grabbing coffee, alone, with a model he had met sporadically over the course of three days so said-model could show them around Paris.

But if Laurent found it odd, he didn’t show it. Instead, he waited for a response.

“He’s just waking up,” Damen said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “He’s going to order a cappuccino from room service and then we can all meet up.”

Not missing a beat, Laurent didn’t say anything else, but began to walk, his demeanor full of an arrogance that Damen would simply follow. Damen did.

The streets were relatively empty of people and it allowed Damen to pay attention to the things one missed while dodging foot traffic, like the intricate designs on buildings, on the flowers just beginning to bloom, on the way the wind snuck through the gaps between buildings and rustled his hair. But with such a leisurely walk at hand, Damen found his attention wavering to the stranger at his side.

It was a confirmation to Damen that Laurent was a thousand times more beautiful without anything on his face. His outfit wasn’t attention-getting, his hair was simplistically done, and yet he was impossible to look away from. In fact, without anything deterring one from looking at only him, Damen found that there had never been anyone he’d ever seen with such effortless allure. (Nik would tell him right now he was biased and always weak when blond hair was involved. Actually, Nik would probably tell him just that at some point today.)

Realizing he was staring (a horrid habit he seemed to have mastered since arriving in France), Damen asked, “Do you go get coffee this early every day?”

“Nearly,” Laurent answered, not looking in Damen’s direction. “Mornings are often quiet. I try to enjoy them unhurried.”

Before Damen could comment back, something about how his and Nik’s mornings were often hurried in trying to visit entire cities in a week or less, or how the only time they got coffee this early was when they were already at the airport for a before-sunrise flight, Laurent was turning and walking through the doors of a cafe.

It was a small place, unsuspecting with its glass doors with gold handles and a handful of tables both outside and inside. The tables were black, as were the chairs, with only the smallest of gold decorations on them. The counter to order was also black, and very tall, and it was all so very much like how Laurent dressed himself, so very much opposite of how Etoile did anything Damen had seen yet. Damen couldn’t help but smile.

The baristas here seemed to know Laurent too, reacting warmly to Laurent’s ‘Bonjour.’ Without even needing to order, Laurent paid for whatever they were already preparing. After his own ‘Bonjour’ and weathering the curious gazes of the two baristas as they looked between him and Laurent, Damen ordered un petit café. Laurent grimaced visibly.

“What?” Damen asked after paying.

“It tastes like what I would guess gasoline tastes like going down your throat,” Laurent said. He motioned to where the barista was pulling the singular shot of espresso into an espresso glass, the crema on top sleek and shiny.

“It’s not that bad,” Damen said. Just then, the second barista handed Laurent his drink. It looked to be un café crème, a latte-like drink of espresso and steamed milk. Damen couldn’t help but notice the pile of sugar cubes next to the glass.

They took a seat outside, per Laurent’s lead, and Damen watched as Laurent took one of the sugar cubes and dipped it into his café crème just long enough for the sugar cube to take on a light brown color before popping it in his mouth.

“You like sweet coffees, I take it?” Damen asked. His espresso was warm in his hands.

Laurent hummed and took a drink. Damen wondered, briefly, if he was using the coffee to wash down the graininess of the sugar cube or if he was using the sugar cube to continue to sweeten the coffee he was drinking. “I was in New York for fashion week a few years back and tried this horrid sugary concoction they tried to pass off as coffee. It was a double-shot of espresso in a pool of chocolate and caramel, shaken with milk and ice, and topped with whipped cream. It was delightful. We don’t have anything quite like that here.”

“I’m pretty sure something like that would be considered blasphemy.”

“Very un-Parisian in every way,” Laurent agreed. He popped another sugar cube into his coffee, then his mouth.

It got quiet for a moment. Damen sipped his espresso and his mouth puckered at the taste. He had heard that Parisian coffee wasn’t up to par with expectations, but having spent as much time in Italy as Damen had in his life, he had a coffee-tuned palette that was displeased greatly with the drink in his hand. Across from him, Laurent was looking out at nothing in particular. This close, and with the newly shining sun facing them, Damen could make out the length of his eyelashes.

“So,” Damen began after it started to feel awkward, after he couldn’t help but shift around just to do something that wasn’t sip on espresso and stare at Laurent, “why are you doing this?”

“This?”

“Showing me and Nik around.” Damen paused as though thinking about what he was going to say. In reality he was waiting for Laurent to respond. When Laurent didn’t, Damen continued. “I’m not trying to sound rude, but you don’t exactly seem the type.”

That got a smile, however small, out of Laurent. “You don’t say.”

This time Damen did wait while Laurent, unhurriedly, took a drink of his coffee.

“I hadn’t been lying when I said that this would keep my uncle off of my back. Every year I spend weeks enduring his demands that I participate with his Paris’ Got Talent search photographers and every year that I don’t, his patience wears thinner. Over time I’ve chosen at least one photographer to,” he did air-quotations with the hand not holding his cup, “‘get to know’ for a day so that I can’t be lectured when I abandon the Friday luncheon early.”

“You’ve done this a few years?”

“Of course. It didn’t take me that long to figure out what to do to appease him.”

“And what made you choose Nik? Why not choose Guillame or someone else?”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself,” Laurent began, leaning back in his seat and crossing one leg over the other. “Guillame is a mumbling and weak little thing. Had I approached him about anything he would have pissed himself before he could find words. Hendric had other matters to attend to. Those matters, of course, being one of our makeup artists, Genevot. Talik and I would have had more conversation with a brick wall than each other, and Jeurre is a friend of my uncle’s and I am tired of old French men who are friends with my uncle. That, you barbarian, is how I found myself stuck with your friend and, in turn, you.” He paused to take another drink. “You two may be social media celebrities, but nothing could be easier for me than giving you a tour of the city I’ve spent my entire life living in.”

Damen ignored the jab about being a social media celebrity. “Alright, that’s fair enough.”

After running their dishes back indoors, Damen waited for Laurent to get off of his phone so they could go back to meet Nik. While walking, Damen found himself saying, “I don’t understand why you want your uncle off of your back so badly though,” before he could stop himself. He might as well have not said anything at all though. Laurent didn’t react.

Nik was ready and outside by the time they arrived. He had his camera in hand and was taking advantage of the emptier streets like Damen had, only he was using the opportunity to snap photos of Paris in the soft morning light. There was no acknowledgement from him that Damen and Laurent had gotten there but instead, like it was instinct, he turned the camera to Damen and Damen simply talked.

They fell into their normal routine.

“Routine” was probably an extravagant word for what they did. The reality of it was this: Nik occasionally had Damen move around and they chatted while Nik took photograph after photograph after photograph. Damen had learned a long time ago he couldn’t just stand there, it was too awkward, too forced. This “routine” allowed for Damen to not feel like he was doing something fake while also allowing Nik experience with a moving subject. It’s what had built Damen’s Instagram, these candid photos taken while Damen sometimes talked about the most mundane of things, like what he wanted for dinner or that tomorrow was leg day.

They chatted about nothing in particular at this moment. Damen asked how the cappuccino was, Nik said it was shit. Nik asked how the espresso was, Damen said it was shit. They discussed how shit French coffee was and how the next time they were in Italy they were going to drink espresso by the gallon. It wasn’t until the sun had completely risen over the horizon that they both remembered Laurent.

Laurent had been completely silent as they had gone on about like the day was any other day in a new city. When they both turned to him, he was leaning against one of the many columns of the hotel awning, his expression almost amused. Then, with a bored tone, he asked, “Are we done here? Or are you planning on standing outside of your own hotel the entirety of the day?”

On foot, they were able to witness how the streets gradually became busier with bustling herds of people off to work and tourists wandering in every direction. Despite the growing population around them, they could have easily gotten to wherever Laurent was leading them in a short amount of time, but Nik was stopping every five steps to take a photograph of something new. After about twenty minutes of this, Laurent finally let out a huff of annoyance. Damen was pretty surprised he held himself back that long.

“If you would stop taking pictures of every godforsaken lamppost in the city, you would find we are but a street away from something actually worthy of attention.”

In front of them was a building that looked to be made from the mind of Lewis Carroll. It was the polar opposite of everything else along the walk of the now very familiar Rue de Rivoli street, namely for the faces from a Steampunk world that stared out at every passing Parisian and tourist, beckoning them to come inside its bright yellow front door.

Laurent didn’t say anything. He waited while both Damen and Nik walked the outside of this odd building to take in the colors and the signs and the flowers made of metal hanging off of its railings and when he decided they had had enough time, he wandered inside. Upon entrance was a spiral staircase littered with hundreds of writings in mostly French, but there was also English, Arabic, Spanish, German, Mandarin, and Korean that Damen could spy along the way down.

Nik found a painting on the wall to their left, a painting of realistic gemstones glittering between the bones of a stark white skeleton. Next to it was a painting from the election in 2010. Next to that was a drawing of a school desk covered in various graffiti.

“What is this place?” Damen asked, his head tilted up to take in the paper airplanes hanging from the ceiling.

“59 Rue de Rivoli. Otherwise known as the Aftersquat,” Laurent said. He began descending the spiral staircase. “In the late nineties, three artists broke into this building. It had lain abandoned for nearly fifteen years and they had decided it could be put to much better use. Thus, it began to become what it is today, a set of artists’ studios.”

Damen and Nik followed, their eyes trained on the walls. There was every kind of art style imaginable along the way. Damen wasn’t an expert, but he recognized pop art and realistic art and abstract art. There was art that looked like it could have belonged in an old church, its style Renaissance-esque and Biblical. There was traditional and modern Japanese art as well as minimalistic art. It was overwhelming to the senses and yet entirely captivating.

“This place is insane,” Nik breathed, his eyes caught on a painting of a woman staring into a lake at her own reflection.

“It is French counter-culture at its finest,” Laurent said.

They were walking by a room that they realized quite quickly wasn’t a room at all, but an open artist studio. Laurent continued on, but Damen and Nik both stopped to peer inside when a man who had been staring at the doorway stood up from a desk and came out to the hallway far too excitedly.

“Laurent!”

Laurent turned to face the man, his face unreadable. “Torveld. I didn’t know you were still here.”

“I took a two-year sabbatical from the studio to return home for some time, but I couldn’t stay away. Paris has too much beauty to leave behind,” the man, Torveld, said. His face, unlike Laurent’s, was entirely readable, full of adoration and awe at Laurent’s presence in this place. “It is wonderful to see you again.”

“You as well,” Laurent said. “I assume since you’re back you’ll be meeting with Charls soon. He still adores your work.”

“I very much hope so. He’s great to work with and he does work with the most beautiful of models in all of Paris.”

Damen and Nik were standing somewhat to the side, quietly taking in Torveld’s blatant flirting. Nik gave Damen a look that said he was making a silent prayer in Torveld’s honor.

“Charls is wonderful, I’m sure you two will create something just as stunning as the last time,” Laurent smiled. “I’m sorry to rush off, but I did promise these two a tour and we’re already horribly limited on time.”

“I apologize,” Torveld said with surprise in his voice and even a little bit of laughter. “I’m being rude. I am Torveld Patran, one of the artists here in the Aftersquat. This is my third year of residency.”

“Damianos Vallis.”

“Nikandros Kyroi.”

Torveld motioned to the camera in Nik’s hands. “Are you one of the photographers for Etoile’s show this year?”

“Yes. Rehearsals start next week.”

“What an exciting time. Etoile truly houses the best Paris has to offer.”

“So you’ve said,” Damen chimed in.

Laurent was already down four steps toward the next level, and he threw a dismissive wave in Torveld’s direction as an end to the conversation and Damen and Nik did the same, their curious eyes focused on Laurent’s retreating form.

“This is the level that, I believe, will interest you the most,” Laurent said. Around them were photographs layered upon one another like they were pages in a book instead of art on the walls. There were black and white photos to the left and colored photos to the right, all of a variety of subjects. Nik, nearly in a trance, immediately wandered to the photos of a desert near the top of the right wall.

“You seem familiar with this place,” Damen said in reference to the building and its inhabitants as he watched Nik with a smile.

Laurent hummed. “Charls, Etoile’s designer, loves this place. A few years back he was here looking for inspiration for Paris Fashion Week and met Torveld. Torveld’s art is painted on fabric. Charls adored him and had me come meet Torveld as well and to compare Torveld’s art with my skin and my hair and so on. That year, it was no surprise the designs were based upon Torveld’s own. But I came to enjoy this place more than most.”

“Why?” Damen asked. Laurent turned to look at him, his expression unreadable once more.

“My uncle despises this place.”

Damen was going to respond, but just then Nik called him over to point out a photograph of Pulpit Pit. They both brought their phones out to pull up their own photos from that trip which had, of course, involved some very fun rock climbing at a different and less touris-filled area of the Rogaland region. While they talked, Nik began to take pictures of the room, of Damen, of the view down the rest of the open spiral staircase. Like at the hotel, they fell into what was natural for them and only when they remembered they weren’t alone did they stop to face Laurent who was leaning against one of the photograph-covered walls.

“I’m not used to not being in front of the camera,” Laurent said.

“Sorry,” Nik began, fumbling with the camera as if trying to figure out if he should put it down or turn its lens toward Laurent.

“It’s quite more relaxing on this end. Perhaps you can fill in for me during Fashion Week,” Laurent said, angling his head in Damen’s direction.

‘I could fill in a lot if you’d like,’ Damen found himself thinking before he could help it, but, luckily, he bit his tongue. Nik threw him a glare as if he knew what was running through Damen’s mind.

They wandered through every floor of 59 Rue de Ravoli with wide eyes and a camera ready for anything. Damen’s favorite art was a section of one of the walls on the fifth floor that was made like an ancient Greek creation, all inlaid with gold and people with straight noses. Nik kept wandering back to the floor with all the photography and even had a good chat with an artist that showed up around nine in the morning. Eventually, after they had seen a lot and not even a quarter of what was there, they exited out of the multicolored side of the door to leave.

The streets were busier at this time, but in the earliest days of March it wasn’t near as busy as it could have been such as in the summer. Laurent didn’t miss a beat in walking out of the door and onto the streets, and he began walking toward wherever he had set his mind to go. Like before, they would have gotten there earlier if it hadn’t been for Nik only, this time, it wasn’t really Nik’s fault. A group of (assumed) friends across the street were struggling in getting a group photo and when they saw Nik’s camera in hand they yelled across the way, causing quite a scene, to ask for a few pictures of them together.

“We’ve never been to Paris,” one girl stammered out, looking stressed.

“And we don’t know if we’ll ever get to come back!” another girl said.

“And selfie sticks can really only do so much,” one of the boys said too.

After a shove on the shoulder from Damen, Nik obliged and thus began an actual friendly photoshoot in the middle of a Parisian street just after breakfast. Eventually, after everyone seemed content with at least one photo each, Nik was freed and turned a slightly worried look to Laurent who must have been horribly irritated. But Laurent was on the phone, listening, not talking, and after it became evident he wasn’t going to get off of the phone with whoever he was on the phone with, Damen and Nik wandered up and down the street, taking pictures with beautiful and colorful doors, with script written signs and tiny alleyways, with clothing store fronts and bakery food items.

“What are you doing?” came Laurent’s voice out of the blue. Now he looked impatient. His right foot was angled out in front of him, the heel firmly planted on the ground almost as though he would begin tapping his toe against it at any moment.

“Waiting for you,” Damen said. Nik burned a hole into the side of Damen’s head with his stare. If Damen noticed it though, or cared, there was no sign. He looked at Laurent, meeting Laurent’s gaze without any kind of challenge. Laurent didn’t react. After a moment he said, “Let’s go,” and began walking as though all of this had been his plan the entire time.

Damen and Nik followed, or tried to anyway. It seemed as though Laurent was determined to have them tour the entire city on foot in a handful of hours with the pace he was walking. It was exhausting, Damen thought, as he tried to look up and around at the blur of buildings.

Damen spent a lot of time looking up. Whenever they travelled, which was always, he walked with his head and eyes up, taking in the way the sky set against unique skylines, taking in the way locals casually went around to their familiar spots, taking in the way that atmosphere felt around them. Right now, all of that was impossible with the worry he had of listing Laurent in the crowd or tripping over unknown grounds.

It was Nik, unsurprisingly, who finally forced them to come to a halt. There was something on a wall that caught his attention, and it was as though his camera gravitated to it without his own action.

It was impossible to miss, truly. It was exceedingly large, especially for its placement not but three-quarters of the way up on a wall, and it protruded from the wall at least a meter, casting large shadows all around. Its gold and black coloring shined on the plain beige of the wall it was on, but most striking were the gold figures. A man with a sword, a dragon, a crab, and a rooster, all made of hammered gold, stood under the watch of a round and golden clock. The hands of the clock were still, stuck, and people rushed by it without a glance.

“What is this?” Nik asked, already taking pictures.

“The Defender of Time,” Laurent said. He was staring up at it with something almost sad in his eyes. “It’s a clock. It hasn’t worked in years.”

Nik was moving so he was facing away from the sun, allowing his camera to pick up on the glint of the gold, on the shadows on the ground. “Why hasn’t it worked in years?” Damen asked.

“The funding for it ran dry. It’s expensive to keep a mechanical clock of this magnitude working.” He paused, his eyes scanning over the craggy landscape, over the gaunt face of the man with the sword. “It hasn’t worked since 2003. I never got to see it running, but my brother had apparently loved it.”

“What did it do exactly?”

“On the hour, the man would fight one of the three animals. Each animal is representative of something, those somethings being the ground, the sky, and the sea. It would depend on which animal the man was fighting, but each fight was accompanied by sounds, like the earth moving, the wind howling, or the waves crashing. But then three times a day the man would have to fight all three creatures at the same time.”

“You said it was a funding issue that turned it into this?” Nik asked. He was scrolling through the photos on his camera already. Laurent nodded. “Why not just fund it yourself then? You seem to enjoy it.”

“I’ve never seen it, how on earth could I enjoy it enough to spend money on it?” Laurent asked back. Then he was walking again, not sparing a glance for the Defender of Time.

Nik kept lagging behind, eyes catching on statues, on buildings, on people, and on light, and Laurent looked as though he wanted to be anywhere but here. Damen, picking up on that, did what he did best: talked.

He watched Nik change his angle around an extravagant statue of a man on a horse before asking Laurent, “How exactly did you get into modeling?”

“I was thrown into it,” Laurent said.

“Thrown into it? I thought you wanted to do it,” Damen said, recalling a conversation with Laurent’s uncle from days earlier.

“I did ask to do it, yes. But I never intended on it being my life.”

“But –”

“The wants of a thirteen-year-old are far different than the needs of one. I was too young to know what I needed.”

Damen knew there was a furrow between his brows, knew that whatever was about to come out of his mouth was going to probably piss Laurent off, and yet he asked, “Then why do you do it?”

Laurent finally looked at him, eyes scanning the expression on Damen’s face as though looking for something. “It’s what I know.”

He said it so simply, as though it made perfect sense, as though there was no other option at all and Damen was stupid for even asking such a question.

Damen was struggling with what to say, or ask, next. There were so many things running through his head, namely things that seemed to contradict one another, and he didn’t know where to start. Luckily, or unluckily, for him, Laurent had the next question already sorted out.

“You don’t know about my family, do you?”

For once there was no maliciousness or superiority in the tone of his voice. He sounded curious, his eyes trained on Damen’s face as though still looking for something, though Damen had no idea what.

Damen didn’t want Laurent knowing about his midnight-Googling, of the way his brain couldn’t put together that Laurent was the son of the slumped over bodies of Aleron and Hennike Devere.

“No.”

The word sounded strange coming out of his mouth. Laurent huffed, the sound almost a laugh. “Well you’re not from France so I suppose you wouldn’t.”

Content to keep adventuring, Nik joined them and broke the heavy tension. They began walking again, this time at a more leisurely pace, but eventually the need for food after a coffee-only breakfast made Damen’s stomach rumble in the middle of an alleyway where the sound almost reverberated off of the walls.

“We’ll want to get him food,” Nik said, still shuffling through photos. “He’s insufferable when he’s hungry.”

Damen didn’t argue. “Any recommendations?” he asked Laurent instead.

“Café de Flore is just around the corner.”

To say Café de Flore was busy would be an understatement. Damen was about to suggest something more casual so they wouldn’t have to spend most of their time awaiting their seats, but Laurent was known by the hosts who saw him and said something in French too quiet for Damen to hear. Before he knew it, they were being shown their table.

Nik asked for Damen to get him water before following signs to the restroom in the back. He took his camera and Damen rolled his eyes; it might be a few minutes before Nik was finished photographing every window and light fixture in the cafe.

“Do you come to this café often?” Damen asked Laurent who hadn’t even picked up his menu yet.

“I haven’t in a few months, but, yes, usually I’m here at least once a month or so.” His eyes were trained on the tablecloth, almost as if he was remembering something, before he said, “This was my mother’s favorite cafe in Paris. She said she used to come here almost every day when she first moved to the city.”

“Where was she from?

Laurent actually smiled, though Damen couldn’t for the life of him figure out what he was smiling at. “She was from Sweden.”

“My entire family is from Greece. Mostly from the same city and everything. It must have been nice having two different cultures to grow up within.”

Laurent hummed. “I suppose. Being in Paris, having a French father, and having him immersed in French politics made it oftentimes feel like a singular, all-consuming culture. But my mother did her best to take away some of the seriousness at times.”

“I wish I would have had something like that growing up,” Damen said, but he didn’t sound bitter.

“Was your mother as serious as my father?” Laurent asked. The corner of Damen’s mouth quirked.

“My mother died giving birth to me, so I never met her,” Damen said. There wasn’t any sadness there, feeling and being as removed from it as he was, but it changed the atmosphere in the room. “And my dad was quite serious. But,” he started, trying to change the atmosphere back to what it had been, “my brother’s mother was always kind to me and I feel lucky enough to have had her.”

“How old were you when your father remarried?” Laurent asked.

“Very young. Maybe two? But my brother, Kastor, was already around, had been since before I was born. And his mother had always been in the picture as well. So nothing really changed when my father remarried.”

This time, it was Laurent who had a furrow between his brows. He was just about to say something, ask something for clarification, when Nik came back to the table, just catching the tail-end of the conversation.

“Are you talking about Kastor?” Nik asked with blatant dislike in his voice.

“Yes, Nik,” Damen said with a sigh.

“Damen’s family has more drama than any show you’ll watch on television,” Nik said as he slid into the seat next to Damen. “His dad got Kastor’s mother pregnant back in 1984. Mind you, he got her pregnant while married to Damen’s mother, Egeria. Egeria stayed. Theomedes, Damen’s dad, was part of Kastor’s life and, in turn, Kastor’s mother’s life during all of that. A decade later, Egeria became pregnant and died. Then Theomedes deemed it okay to marry Kastor’s mother.” Nik stopped to take a sip of the water the waiter had left on their table silently. “You would think with Kastor being a whole ten years older he would be more mature than he is, but –”

“Nik, I don’t think Laurent needs or wants to hear about my family drama,” Damen said, doing his very best to change the topic. But Laurent was resting with his chin on his hand, face void of any judgement or emotion.

“Oh no, do tell. I feel as though there’s a story there and it’s only fair. I have been showing you around my city, it’s the least you could do.”

Damen wanted to argue, wanted to say that Laurent wasn’t showing them around out of the goodness of his heart, but instead he found himself saying, “Nik has always hated my brother so you’ll have to take that into consideration.”

“Damen,” Nik started with a sigh. “You –”

“Here, how about I tell it instead,” Damen interrupted. “My brother slept with my girlfriend while knowing of my plans to propose to her. She initiated it, but that doesn’t make it…” He trailed off at the end.

Both of Laurent’s eyebrows were raised, not in disbelief but moreso in fascination, when Nik said, “And sleeping with Damen’s girlfriend was just the final straw of things Kastor has said and done over the years.”

“But it doesn’t matter,” Damen started off just a degree louder so as to speak over Nik, “because I forgave them both, I moved on, and now they’re getting married. Clearly it was the right move on their part.”

“We are not doing this again, Damen,” Nik said.

“I may have to flag the waiter over for a drink,” Laurent said. “Do continue.”

Nik, predominantly, did continue until their food came. He rambled about Kastor’s jealousy, about Theomedes’ unwillingness to come across as having favorites, about Damen’s horrid inability to not immediately trust those he was expected to trust. Damen waved it all off with a dismissive hand, having a reason for everything, and Laurent listened silently but with rapt attention. Damen swore he saw something new in Laurent’s eyes, a kind of understanding of something Damen didn’t know.

Eventually they were off and walking, but not before a very heartfelt goodbye from the host to Laurent. There was something different in the way Laurent was acting now though. He was talking more, pointing out more landmarks and telling their histories with a less guarded facade up and surrounding him. He still wasn’t talking a lot, by no means a chatterbox, but it was as though the things that were necessary, like explaining the meaning behind a building’s title or the reason a gargoyle on top of one of the buildings was missing a bat-like wing came out of his mouth without thought.

He once even laughed – not a long and loud laugh mind you, but a small and quiet yet genuine laugh – as they walked by Jules Lavirotte’s 29 Avenue Rapp and Damen said, “That reminds me of Etoile.”

“I’m not sure if that’s intended to be a compliment or not,” Laurent had said, more amused by that than Damen knew to make sense of.

Eventually, Nik’s instincts had him minding traffic as he crossed the street to ask a woman if he could take her picture. It made perfect sense; she was an older woman, probably in her sixties, maybe even seventies, and she was dressed like the model she most definitely was at one point. The black jumpsuit she was wearing was accentuated by the leopard print scarf that was tossed carelessly over one shoulder. Her red lipstick left a perfect ring on the cup she was drinking out of. She, unsurprisingly, relished in a photography session. It was obvious how stunning the photos would look, her backdropped against the cafe with its swirls in its name and its red curtains in the window.

Laurent seemed to be looking at nothing in particular whilst Nik when about doing his thing. Still standing in front of Damen from the position he had been leading them on their tour, Damen could take in the way the wind played with the end of the braid down his back.

“Can you explain this photographer thing to me?”

The question had left Damen’s mouth suddenly, but he knew why he had asked it immediately. It had been something that had been nagging him since this whole thing started, a thing Vannes had mentioned condescendingly almost (“...one of our photographer experimentees,” she had said with a laugh), a thing that, the longer Damen dwelled on it, seemed odd.

“What do you mean?” Laurent asked, not turning all the way around to face Damen, but turning enough so he could see Nik in his line of sight.

“The whole,” Damen paused to find the words, “competition of it. It’s not normal, is it? This isn’t a thing commonly done, having photographers send in applications and having them participate in a week of photoshoots and events in order to decide who should be at the show?” Damen waited for an answer, but when it never came, he kept talking, asked, “Is it a thing your uncle came up with to give unknown photographers a chance? He was a photographer when he first started, right?”

Laurent still didn’t answer right away, but now Damen had nothing else to say or ask. He continued to wait, trying to figure out why it was taking Laurent so long to answer, and when he couldn’t read Laurent’s face, he turned to watch Nik again. The woman was directing Nik around now and Nik did what she said without complaint.

“Etoile used to have its own photographers. Many of them were older, friends of my uncle’s from his photography days. Some of them are still around. But four years ago one of the photographers made an accusation toward my uncle. As you might expect, my uncle was quite displeased. From then on out he decided that finding new people who wouldn’t get the chance to become familiar with Etoile’s ins and outs.”

The explanation came as the last thing Damen expected to hear. He had perhaps expected a heartwarming tale of using one’s position to provide opportunity. He had expected a story of desire to find the best the world had to offer before anyone else. He had even expected a story of corporate desire to save money by hiring more unknowns. And all Damen could think as his brain tried to comprehend what Laurent had just said was what he had heard that first day of the photoshoots:

“Jeurre over there has worked with him before. Jeurre says that at a photoshoot two years ago, Laurent made one of the newer designers cry so hard that he quit on the spot. I’ve heard one of the current designers talking about how Laurent refused to let one of the newest models, one of the newest signees, be part of this show at all and put down his foot until his uncle gave him his way. I also heard another one of the models say that Laurent gets to lead all the shoots because of his name.”

“He’s a spoiled and entitled brat,” Vannes said matter of fact. “Over the years, he’s gotten mouthier, refused to listen to his uncle or the Etoile board on what he needs to do to represent us. He won’t re-sign because he doesn’t want to be told what to do.”

“Oh, yes, appearance-wise he is. But, as I said, the world of fashion is cruel and it made him cruel. I’m sure you witnessed some of his callous behavior.” Neither Damen or Nik confirmed, but they didn’t deny it either. Laurent’s uncle flashed them a sad smile. “It pains me that I couldn’t protect his innocence. I had thought I was doing the right thing in allowing him to choose his path in life but…” he trailed.

“What were the accusations?” Damen asked.

Now, Laurent turned to look directly at Damen and Damen felt horribly assessed as though he had done something wrong.

“Is there anywhere else you two would like to go before I leave you two to your own devices? I’m afraid I have dinner plans I’d like to not be late for.”

Damen looked at his phone. It was just after two in the afternoon.

Nik was joining them again, ruining the chance for Damen to figure out how to push for Laurent’s answer, and somehow took over the conversation. They ended up walking alongside the Seine once more, Nik stopping every now and then to take photos of peoples’ reflections on the water, all while Laurent led them to wherever Nik had negotiated as a final sight.

Eventually they came across a park with closely cropped grass and artfully trimmed bushes. It was the Parc André Citroën. It was fairly busy with people lying out on the grass, with people and their children admiring the water features. But what was most eye-catching was the enormous and unmissable balloon that read Balloon Generali in beautiful red writing.

Laurent was walking toward it, allowing his words to trail behind him with the wind. “This is the Balloon Generali, a hot air balloon that will get you to the second highest point in Paris.”

Damen could tell Nik was excited. Things like this were familiar territory for them, views and cityscapes. Sometimes they got there by climbing mountains and sometimes they got there by ski slope, but it was what they did, what they always wanted to do. Even Damen was dragged into the excitement, momentarily forgetting the uncomfortableness he had felt in that last conversation with Laurent.

They didn’t have to wait long to get on the balloon. Each ride was only ten minutes long and the ride before them had been up for at least half of that when they arrived.

The place to stand in the balloon was essentially like a donut. There was a hole in the center where people couldn’t go as the cable controlled by the hydroelectric winch was there to raise and lower the balloon. Damen and Nik filed in behind Laurent. There wasn’t a lot of room to move forward or back, but there were only a few other people on with them so there was plenty of space to go around.

They weren’t given much warning before the cable began to turn and Damen felt the ground fall out beneath them.

Nik was shoving Damen with friendly and familiar hands to stand where he could get pictures of him. Damen laughed, relishing in the feeling of the wind picking up around them, and ignored Nik in favor of staring out at the sights coming into view. They could see everything and could see more the higher they got. Right near them was the Seine which got longer and longer the higher up they got. Turning, Damen could see the maze of rooftops come into view around them, could see the Eiffel Tower across the way, a beacon for Paris, could see people walking streets and sitting on benches.

The camera was clicking in Damen’s ears as he turned and looked at Laurent. There was a strand of blond hair out of his braid and he was looking out at the city with a kind of contemplation. Damen wondered what it was like to live here, to have been here as long as one could remember, and Damen wondered what Laurent was thinking.

Nik found something else to garner his own attention which was a group of people on a rooftop across the river. He quickly changed a few settings before finding them. Damen knew the photos would be clear they’d be able to see the color of the men’s ties.

Too soon they were landing, the ground finding its stability under their feet once more, and they exited with windswept hair and Nik’s camera still clicking.

“I found something just over there,” Nik said, pointing in a vague direction. “I’ll be right back.”

He was off without waiting for Damen, or even Laurent’s, reply. And as he walked away Laurent shook his head physically. Damen didn’t like it.

“What?”

Laurent turned his cool gaze on Damen.

“Is this truly all you do? Take a million photos in a city and leave just to do the same thing in another?”

The huff left Damen’s mouth, but he heard Nik in his head saying, “He’s a spoiled, entitled, and, again, raging bitch. If he doesn’t like someone, he can and will make their life a living hell. And in this case, that means that if he doesn’t like me, it’s me whose life will be made a living hell.”

“We do actually work,” Damen said. “There’s a lot of planning, a lot of days we stay up until dawn making sure things are the way they need to be.”

“But you simply travel. Anyone with a camera phone and some money could do what you do,” Laurent pushed.

“Then why don’t they?” When Laurent’s gaze didn’t budge, Damen continued. “It wasn’t always like this either. We worked hard for our first year of travelling. And our hard work was enough to get us tickets to places, but not enough to get us in nice hotels or houses. We stayed in hostels, we ate cheap street food to save money, but we were happy getting to do this. Then it gained traction and we realized we would be stupid to not take an opportunity when it was presented to us.” There was a boiling feeling underneath Damen’s skin, one that had been there since the day he had taken in the extravagance of Etoile, since the day he had realized his joke about Nik having to deal with stuck-up high-fashion snobs was a reality and not just a joke.

“Besides,” Damen said, “I don’t have to explain my life to you, and I definitely don’t have to justify it. How is what we do any different than what you do? You stand there and look beautiful. Other people choose your clothes, other people do your hair, your makeup. Hell, you didn’t even have to work for where you are because your uncle owns the place and gifted you with an opportunity some people work years for and never get to have.”

Nik was calling out Damen’s name from somewhere behind, but Damen couldn’t not watch the way Laurent’s face transformed. It was the small things that changed; the subtle raising of plucked brows, the clenching of his jaw, the squaring of his shoulders.

“There’s a restaurant called La Grenouille Bleue around the corner,” he said, voice hard, just as Nik joined.

Without so much as a goodbye or even a snide comment, Laurent turned and left, his head high and his hair moving with each step.

“What was that?” Nik asked.

It took Damen a second to tear his look away from where Laurent had been, where he had just disappeared around a corner with a flash of gold. When he did, he found Nik’s look a mixture of genuine curiosity and What the fuck did you do now, Damen?

“High maintenance models,” Damen said, hoping that would be enough. It wasn’t.

“What did he say?”

That night, Nik fell asleep fairly early. As he had yawned for the seventh time in but a few minutes, he blamed it on Laurent’s early wakeup call and the fact that they probably walked twenty miles. Damen envied him now, watching for a moment as Nik shifted onto his left side. Tomorrow was the luncheon event and it was going to be a long day, but Damen couldn’t get his brain to stop thinking of Laurent. Infuriating and cold and everything his uncle had said.

Unbiddenly, his fingers were typing Laurent DeVere into the search bar on his computer again, almost as if trying to justify his current feelings. The images were all modeling photos, most of them runway shows, and Damen couldn’t help but curse that someone with Laurent’s disposition was so unbelievably beautiful.

The images went on and on, all professionally taken with but a few paparazzi photos outside of the now-known apartment building, and soon Damen found himself adding something to the search bar. He didn’t really know why. Laurent DeVere young.

The photos here were entirely different than the ones he had just seen. In the first picture was a beautiful blonde woman with perfectly styled hair and a small smile on her face. She was holding a bundle in her arms, a bundle wrapped in blue, and when Damen clicked on the image the caption said Hennike DeVere with her newborn son (2000). There was another picture, the one right next to the one of Hennike, of a child that was unmistakably Laurent at the age of seven or so with an older boy ruffling his hair. The older boy was nearly a man actually, probably nearing the age of twenty in the photo and he was looking at Laurent with unbridled affection. Auguste and Laurent DeVere at the UN Council Meeting (2008). There were more photos like those, ones of Laurent hiding from the cameras behind his brother’s broadening shoulders, ones of Laurent holding hands with his mother, and just a handful of ones of Laurent watching his father.

Not long down the list, however, there was a change. Damen saw Laurent’s uncle sitting in a velvet-lined chair, a tiny body in his lap leaving his dress shirt tearstained. Funeral of Auguste DeVere (2013) is what the caption said. There were a series of funeral photos next to that, ones with captions reading for Auguste DeVere (2013) and Aleron and Hennike DeVere (2013).

There was yet another shift, the only photos of it on the first page of results just at the bottom. Damen was sure they continued and were probably the entire content of page two. They must have been some of Laurent’s earliest modeling photos for he looked exceedingly young. His blue eyes were startling and large, trained on the person behind the camera as he clutched the sheer red fabric over his bare chest. Behind him were roses dripping with water and the water must have been on Laurent as well for the ends of his hair were curled and a shade darker than the rest of him. It was clinging to his eyelashes the same way it clung to the petals of the roses.

Laurent DeVere’s first magazine cover, February 2014.

#the mannequin gallery #mannequin gallery 'verse #captive prince #laurent of vere #damen of akielos #nikandros #my writing

10 notes · View notes