#no breakfast only a cup of cappuccino

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

DEAR SPRING, STAY FOREVER ; SATORU GOJO, SUGURU GETO, SHOKO IEIRI

synopsis; just another mellow breakfast shared between you and your partners. (you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of them.)

word count; 3.8k

contents; sashisu/reader (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, all of u are whipped, lots of petnames, literally just breakfast fluff, it ended up kinda sugucentric on accident (not my fault btw he just really loves making breakfast for u that’s on him), also ended up kinda sappy at the end (that’s on me), implied no curses au, they’re in their twenties but it isn’t specified, everyone is eepy and in love <33

a/n; a little breakfast fic bc i love mornings and i love them :33 (tagging my beloved sashisu soldiers @catchuuu @staryukis i am making breakfast for both of u btw ☕️🥞) pls listen to spring thief by yorushika it’s the most sashisu song ever

as always, suguru is the first of you to make it into the kitchen.

he’s humming. it’s soft, a low lull of his voice, beckoning you closer like the call of a siren. sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, fiddling with a pan, sizzling and simmering and breathing in the scent of pancakes; it pairs well with the espresso steam from the coffee pot to his right, the vase of hydrangeas by the windowsill.

it’s a sunny morning. the perfect setting for the start of your day, an atmosphere you can savour, like the gradual sipping of your soon-to-be morning cup of coffee. somewhere outside your vision comes a morning symphony, chirps and songs by cicadas and robins. splotches of sunlight splatter against the windows, the kitchen table, the floorboards — illuminating the man in front of the stove.

something in your chest constricts, when you look at him. a tenderness uprooted, a fondness watered and trimmed, a hungry plant only satiated at the sight of this; the back of his head, raven locks cascading down his broad shoulders in obsidian waves, hair put up into a lazy half-down bun. a little messy, a little too breathtaking for words. wearing a black turtleneck that hugs his waist just right.

you should be used to it, by now. suguru has always been an early bird, always the first to rouse from his slumber, only ever contended by shoko and her occasional bouts of sleep-deprivation. he’s always waiting for the three of you, just like this — in front of a sizzling pan, adjusting his glasses by the kitchen table, cooking or reading or simply reminiscing. content to stir in the peace and quiet of the morning hours, before the world wakes up. 

and he’s always taken to preparing breakfast for the four of you, always ready to greet you with a smile and a cup of freshly made cappuccino. he enjoys taking care of you, all three of you. always has.

(it wasn’t any different back when you were kids. suguru was always the first one in the dormitory’s kitchen, messing with the rusty french press or making a grossly bitter smoothie for himself. he was snarkier, more roundabout — but no less thoughtful. grumpy little shoko would always get the last bitter pumps of espresso, and sleepy little satoru would get a french toast if he asked nicely enough. and you? 

you got to see them, be with them. that alone would’ve been enough. the steaming cup of cappuccino left on the kitchen counter — a little too tailored to your taste to be a mere coincidence — was always nothing more than an added bonus.)

the soft humming falters, for no more than a beat or two. suguru shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and suddenly you can’t resist the temptation.

with clumsy steps, heavy feet weighed down by a sleepy sense of numbness, you stumble towards your target. it’s a familiar waltz, five steps to reach him, a warmth that spreads throughout your body in tandem with the curl of your arms around his waist. slumped against him, cheek squished against his upper back, you hold your breath.

silently, you wait. one, two, until you hear the familiar roll of his breath; a delighted little sigh that slips from his parted lips.

when suguru cranes his head to get a glimpse of you, his amber eyes are leaking adoration. a sense of liveliness, a joyous spark — like a firefly, the flicker of a rusty lighter. he looks well-rested, dark circles long faded, only the dimmest remnant of them still visible beneath his eyes. 

he holds your gaze, steady and kind, and then he’s leaning forward; eager to press his lips against your waiting forehead. glasses slipping ever so slightly down the bridge of his nose. the kiss is chaste, familiar. warm, warm, a faint heat that simmers in your chest, a tiny firework of a feeling. even the metal of his piercing feels warm on your skin. 

you melt into his spine, fingers searching for a pair of hands that find yours first — his thumb rubbing tender circles over your forearm. practiced, memorized, that familiar waltz of motions. he lingers against your skin, breathing in satoru’s favorite strawberry shampoo. you’ve been stealing it for weeks now. 

suguru’s lips curl up into something amused, still not quite willing to part from you. 

but then he does. turning towards the stove, reaching for the coffee pot with one hand, the other securing your own and lacing your fingers together. he gives them an affectionate squeeze, still resting on his lower stomach. a silent greeting that he always ends up voicing anyway.

”g’morning, love,” he croons, a little raspy, but sweet and nice. honeyed and deep, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. you hear him pour something into a cup. ”how did you sleep?”

all you can give him is a tired grunt, stretching your limbs out, blinking sluggishly to shoo away the drowsiness. suguru knows what to expect; he simply smiles, endeared, pouring steamed milk into your favorite cup. with a clink of his spoon against the ceramic, he adds the foam, stirring it carefully.

then he’s shifting his weight, angling his face towards yours, and pressing the rim of the cup against your lips — not before blowing on it gently. he watches as your eyelids flutter, waiting for the hum of contentment he’ll hear once you have your first sip. and he gets it. the rich aroma stirs you into a more awakened state, and a single taste of the creamy foam has you standing up a little straighter, humming in sleepy delight. suguru smiles, crow’s feet hidden behind his glasses. 

you accept the cup with a grateful squeeze of his palm, and he makes sure it’s steady in your hold before he faces forward again. another sip, and your throat feels a little less dry, your mind a lot less sluggish. so you answer his previous question. 

”… slept well,” another tiny sip. it’s hot, warming you up from the inside. ”i would’ve preferred waking up to you, though...”

a low chuckle bubbles up in your boyfriend’s throat. it makes you want to pout, but you smile instead. traitorous lips. 

he’s looking at you again, unable to help himself, reaching over to brush some loose strands of hair away from your face. ”aw, ’m sorry,” he coos, teasingly, sickeningly sweet. ”but then you wouldn’t have woken up to a fresh cup of coffee, hm?” 

now you really are pouting. he shifts, until you're standing chest to chest, and kisses it away. twice, for good measure. he must be in a good mood.

he usually is, at this time of year. when the air starts smelling of honeydew and snowdrops, and he’s awoken by barking dogs, luscious sunbeams splattered on soft bedsheets, the pitter patter of sudden spring rain. when the apricot trees outside your apartment complex begin to bloom; a flurry of sickly-white kisses pressed against your windows, sticking to the locks of your hair. it gives him an excuse to run his fingers through it. even when shoko whines for him to cut it out, and satoru purposefully shakes the branches to make the tiny white petals even harder to find. he must like having his hair ruffled like a misbehaving dog. 

they make suguru sigh and sigh, exasperated, but there’s always a smile waiting somewhere out of view. he’s not very good at hiding it.

(he likes the apricot trees. likes watching them change shape, colour, likes waiting for them to wither and blossom and turn into fruit.

once they’re ripe enough to pick, i’ll make marmalade for us.)

the morning waltz continues. while suguru continues to flip his pancakes, you sleepily decide to set the table. fondness erupts behind his eyelids at the gesture, small as it is. you stand on your tiptoes to reach the highest shelf, just to grab satoru’s favorite mug; one you all got him for his 19th birthday, a heartfelt message of world’s okayest boyfriend etched into the front. it was meant to make him pout and whine, but you’ve never seen him drink out of anything else at home.

you place the cup on the table with a soft thunk, along with plates and cutlery. suguru has already brought down a cup for shoko, seated on the kitchen counter next to him, soon to be filled with the same rich espresso he always drinks. he’s waiting until she joins you both, so it doesn’t end up going lukewarm. there’s nothing shoko hates more. you can practically hear that grumpy scoff, see her cute little frown.

your sleep schedules differ from day to day. suguru is always up early, satoru always sleeps in. shoko fluctuates between the two. you usually end up rousing from your slumber whenever the bed starts feeling a little too empty — a fact you doubt they’ll ever quit teasing you about.

that differs from day to day, too. sometimes you sleep with suguru, sometimes the other two, sometimes all three. you have your separate rooms, but always end up with your limbs intertwined one way or another; even if one of you comes home late or falls asleep on the couch watching tv. satoru can’t sleep without hugging someone, and suguru can’t fall asleep unless he knows you’re all sleeping well. shoko isn’t picky, but you know she feels safest when she’s linking elbows with you, or touching pinkies with suguru, or snoozing on top of satoru’s chest like a weighted blanket. as for you… 

you’ve gotten way too used to their touch to ever go without it. last night, you ended up in suguru’s room, tucked underneath his chin, while satoru snuck into shoko’s bed to convince her not to pull another all-nighter. you’re assuming it worked.

”mm, smells good. you makin’ pancakes?”

a bubbly, groggy voice spills into the air, just as a light breeze flits in through the window. soothing, refreshing. you turn your gaze towards its source.

and there they are. sleepy satoru, and grumpy shoko, the former clinging to the latter like an overgrown koala. satoru seems to be in high spirits, calling out to you with a smile, blue eyes glimmering like a sunny sky; but you can tell he’s tired by the way he’s stretching out his limbs, only wearing a pair of pyjama pants. and shoko is silent, blinking drowsily, twitching when his loud voice buzzes in her ear. she makes no move to push him away. 

suguru gazes at them with a smile, in tandem with you, nothing but fond. loving, in the way the amber of his eyes gleams and swirls with promises of something everlasting. he’s a little intense, honestly. but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

and, admittedly, your sleepy little partners are a sight for sore eyes. 

shoko meets your gaze, and finally decides to shake off the man with an arm over her shoulder. said man huffs, but makes no move to follow her when she stumbles into your arms. 

her limbs find their way around your midriff, her chin to the curve of your shoulder. her hair is loose, almost as long as suguru’s, messy and brushing against your cheek. your hand goes to smooth down her back, the fabric of her oversized shirt, soft and laced with the scent of laundry detergent. she yawns, right by your ear, lips jutted out into a small pout, and something in your chest returns. a hungry plant, drinking up her raspy voice, the glimpse you get of that mole beneath her eye. her stretch marks, when she pulls away and her shirt rides up enough to expose her thighs. little lightning bolts.

”morning,” you chirp. she presses a tiny kiss against your cheek, dangerously close to your lips; sometimes you think she does it just to tease you.

”hey, how come i didn’t get a morning kiss?”

shoko turns her head, finding satoru’s accusing stare. he’s pouting, tilting his head, already making his way over to suguru. but she only rolls her eyes.

”you’re such a baby.”

”you know you love me!”

suguru stifles a puff of laughter, leaning back against the kitchen counter, elbows resting on the marble. watching his partners with barely contained delight. satoru notices, grinning softly, throwing his arms around his boyfriend’s neck.

satoru’s kisses are always sloppy. you hear that drawn out mwah! even without looking at the pair, even without seeing his lips against suguru’s jaw. a phantom warmth sprouts on your skin. 

”good morning, handsome,” he purrs, low and rumbling through his chest, pressed flush against suguru’s — their heartbeats mingling together. soft skin against smooth fabric. there’s mischief in those aquamarine eyes, something teasing, and it makes suguru want to return the favour. 

”good morning, baby,” he presses his lips against satoru’s cheek. voice muffled against his soft skin, silky and deep. ”you kinda smell.”

a moment passes. the calm before the storm.

satoru blinks, barely registering shoko’s dry chuckle from behind him — and then furrows his eyebrows together like an irritated cat. a scandalized noise builds up at the base of his throat, and he glares at the man in front of him, frustration only growing when he notices that suguru isn’t returning the favour. his gaze is still fond, like an artist admiring a marble statue, drinking in his pouty boyfriend’s fluffy hair and droopy eyes and rosy lips. flattering, but the damage has been done.

”oh, i see how it is,” he withdraws his arms and takes a step back, crossing them with a hmph. ”bullying your sweet boyfriend first thing in the morning, huh? have you no shame?”

”sorry. you just look really bulliable today.”

another offended little noise. he turns on his heel, messy strands of hair swaying with the movement, glaring at shoko instead. ”unbelievable. i feel neglected in this household.”

you huff out a breathy laugh, taking a seat by the kitchen table while your lovers bicker. sipping from your cappuccino in silence, soaking up the mellow morning mood. until you feel satoru staring at you; eyes like marbles, big and bright, rich with mirth. his pout fades away, and he closes in on you with a smile. troubles forgotten. 

before you can greet him, he’s leaning down to leave a fat kiss on your forehead — messy, uncoordinated, but loving. a coo on the tip of his tongue. when he’s this close you can see his dimples, those tiny freckles that only come out in the light of the sun. 

you feel him smile against your skin, pulling back to speak. parting his pretty, glossy lips. ”and good morning to you, my dearest.”

he’s silly.

your lips bloom into a sweet grin, honeyed nectar on your teeth. he’s illuminated by the light streaming in through the window, a little disheveled, with his cute bedhead and bare chest exposed. a giggle slips from your lips, and your voice carries a melodic lilt, coming out as a soft croon. ”good morning, sunshine.”

satoru blinks. just once, before the telltale signs of his excitement start to show; his face brightening, breaking out into a cheshire grin, something sweet in the way his eyes crinkle. like folded origami, like messily cut fruit. citrusy and smooth.

before you can protest, those strong arms are reaching around your waist — hoisting you up into his arms with a coo of c’mere. he spins you around, just once or twice, and chuckles at the way you let out a sleepy yelp. even after stilling, he doesn’t put you down, only guiding your legs to wrap around his middle; his naked chest and muscles pressed flush against you. he’s warm, one large palm on your back and the other on your thigh. he touches you like it’s muscle memory, every ridge and dip, every part of you he’s already long mapped out. honestly, you don’t understand how he can get so excited this early in the morning.

but who are you to complain, when it means getting smothered like this? 

”oh, and i smell great, by the way,” he suddenly huffs, directed at the partners behind him. he’s quick to smile down at you, tilting his head and searching for approval. ”don’t i, baby?”

for a second, you’re tempted to join in on the teasing. some part of you wants to. unfortunately, it loses against the parts of you still mesmerized by the splotches of white inside his pretty eyes, those cute little freckles. so you nod.

”yeah,” you breathe. inhaling, taking him in, sunlight and strawberries and laundry detergent. ”you smell like spring.”

his smile continues to blossom, turning sweeter by the minute. brighter than the sun. he throws a victorious glance behind him, delighting in the simultaneous roll of their eyes — before finally putting you back down. he wastes no time in plopping down on the seat to your right, dragging your chair closer to his, until they’re pressed against each other. curling a leg around yours. so clingy in the morning. 

suguru and shoko are quick to join you. they blink slowly, sipping on their cups of espresso, a rich aroma spreading throughout the kitchen. it blends well with the plates of pancakes suguru scoots towards you, drizzled with the syrup satoru likes. he’s attentive, making sure you’re all comfortable, rising to his feet when shoko asks for a single cube of sugar. she’s started to mellow out a bit, no longer as grumpy, soothed by the bitter taste on her tongue. and satoru keeps your leg locked in place beneath the table.

it’s hard not to feel nostalgic, like this. when spring is blooming just outside your window, when all three of them are just the same as you remember. some things have changed, sure, but they’re still so unapologetically them. loud voices, rude eye-rolls, teasing comments and all.

they munch on their pancakes, sip on their coffee, and you chat about what to do when you all get home. what movie to watch, what food to order, what food to make because suguru doesn’t think you’ve been eating enough homemade meals lately. bickering and bantering. smiling.

(it feels like high school every day.)

shoko is the first to leave. she glances at the clock on the wall and stutters out a string of curse words, a mutter about being late. suguru plays dumb when she accuses him of not reminding her on purpose. she kisses you again, right under your jaw, and lets her clingy boyfriends give her one kiss each on the lips — despite her protests that they’ll mess up her lipstick. then she’s heading out.

”goodbye, doctor!” satoru calls, cheery even as your girlfriend rolls her pretty eyes.

”don’t call me that yet,” she snorts, adjusting her scarf. ”there’s still a good chance i’ll drop out. or cheat my way to a doctorate.”

so she says, but you all know her. you catch that glimmer of amusement in her eyes, something smug in the way she straightens her back. a little embarrassed, maybe. but the faith you have in her makes her glow.

then it’s satoru’s turn. he’s whinier, about it, ignoring the alarms on his phone on purpose. suguru has to bribe him, promising him kikufuku and take-out and an extra tight hug when he gets home. only then does he get up from his seat, untangling his leg with yours.

”do i have to?”

”yes, you do,” suguru tuts. ”the kids have an exam today. be responsible.”

another pout. but he listens, slipping on his sunglasses, putting on a coat and stealing a sip of your coffee that only makes him grimace. he has you both kiss the taste away, and you indulge him, because he’s silly and stupid and yours. 

and then it’s just you and suguru. he has a day off, and you don’t have to leave until later. the kitchen falls silent, back to a mellow morning rhythm, that quiet waltz of motions and sunshine. suguru pours you more coffee, gazing at you from across the table, and you thank him with a smile. he adjusts his glasses and flips through the morning newspaper; absently, you wonder if shoko and satoru would’ve teased him for it.

what the four of you have is an odd arrangement. but that’s what all of you are, anyway; a little odd. 

and as you sit there, serenaded by cicadas and morning birds, senses caressed by cappuccino foam and apricot blossoms and a hand holding yours over the table… you think to yourself that even if everything shattered around you — if the earth stopped spinning or the stars crashed through the roof of your apartment — you’d probably still keep on living. you’d do it, if only to continue chewing on these memories, these mornings, like savouring the faded flavour of an old piece of gum. over and over again, until you can’t tell where your teeth end and where the gum begins, so that you’ll always be able to taste it on your tongue. for the rest of your life.

it’s melodramatic, yes, but they are too. you’re sure suguru is pondering a sentiment even more dramatic, right now, even heavier with devotion. something so sappy you’d have to hide your face in your hands and beg him to stop talking. 

and, lo and behold, he suddenly speaks up. 

“are you happy?”

the question breaks you out of your silent stupor. you look up from your plate, his amber eyes already taking you in, drowning you in fondness. he’s smiling, and he’s looking at you like you’re spring personified. the silver of his lip piercing catches the light of the sun. a couple apricot petals are stuck in his hair, woven between his raven locks. 

you blink. inside your chest, something unfurls, twists and turns, grows and withers all at once. a whole garden of love, just for them.

you lean forward, elbows on the table, and brush through his bangs. petal caught between your fingertips. when you lean back, you’re smiling.

“yeah,” you answer, truthfully. inhaling the scent of spring. “i’m always happy when i’m with you.”

a breeze caresses your cheek, your hands, and the whole apartment smells of apricots. suguru seems pleased, returning to his cup of lukewarm coffee, a little clink of ceramic against porcelain that strikes you as distinctly heavenly.

soon, you’ll have to leave. you’ll have to manage without their jokes and banter and touches, without them, for a grueling number of hours, one tortuous lecture after another. but they’ll be waiting once you get back — and tomorrow, you’ll have breakfast again, just like this. forever and ever. you never want the coffee to run out, never want the apricot trees to wither. you want to stay greedy for a long time to come. 

and you’re sure they feel the same.

the sun lets her golden hair flow throughout the city, melting rivers and warming benches. she falls across shoko’s lecture hall, sneaks into satoru’s classroom, kisses her way up suguru’s neck. you let a sigh slip past your lips, and the sun breathes it in again — a vein of joy awoken, slumbering inside your veins.

and you smile.

(it’s springtime, now. a little warmer. 

here’s to another year together.)

[kamaluhkhan]

YOUR SWEETHEART PSYCHOPATHIC CRUSH !

pairing: levi ackerman x fem!reader word count: 5.7k chapter summary: while spending your summer at the ackerman's estate, you and levi become slightly obsessed with each other despite mikasa being very clear she doesn't want you to fuck her cousin. warnings: alcohol, smoking, slight enemies to lovers dynamic, kinda rough smut (18+!!), oral (f+m receiving), unprotected period sex, mentions of blood, yearning, religious imagery/references, morally ambiguous protagonist with unclear motivations, eat the rich vibes....essentially very saltburn inspired so...yeah author's note: been having levi brainrot all summer and this is the result hope y'all enjoy ♡

♪: the louvre by lorde

you weren’t in love with him. 

picture levi ackerman on a gilded summer day. shimmering, sweaty skin. designer sunglasses and overpriced flip flops. mouth red and sticky from the popsicle melting in his hand. sharp jawline. sharper tongue.

you understood why people loved him, of course — and so many did. 

he saw through them, and they wanted to be seen by him. 

picture levi ackerman at a busy pub on a friday night, the most expensive whiskey in front of him. one eyebrow quirked, silver piercing disappearing beneath his hairline. grey-blue eyes watching carefully. interested. suspicious.

he was dangerous;

picture levi ackerman on a hot, midsummer night. on his knees, canines sparkling in the moonlight. blood on his chin, between his fingers. he’s wearing pristine silk pyjamas that will soon become stained with grass and dirt and other unspeakable things. 

beautiful, of course;

picture levi ackerman in a marble bathtub, skin wet and soapy. defined muscles and intricate tendons that could have been carved from marble, too. smelling of citrus and bergamot.

and compassionate, somehow. 

picture levi ackerman handing someone a cigarette, heart beating fast after a heated argument. long, slender fingers and a silver crested ring. black stars etched across the skin of his hand, similar to his cousin’s. 

you loved him. 

picture levi ackerman across a bountiful breakfast table. he pries open a ripe fig, reaches over for some tea. as always, he holds his cup from the top. burgundy bruises in the shape of someone’s lips decorate his neck, disappear under the collar of his shirt. 

you loved him.

picture levi ackerman, preening as if for a portrait they’d hang in an art gallery. taking a slow drag of his cigarette, backlit by the sun shining in from grand windows, framing him like a halo. 

but, were you in love with him?

it’s a sticky, sultry summer — the summer mikasa first brings you to paradis. 

with each day that passes, slow and sweltering, june gradually melts away in the blistering heat, but july lingers. 

time passes differently when your life is filled with luxurious nothing. 

mikasa always had friends over, all of whom had their own summer houses nearby. you recognized them from school. work, actually — they were frequent customers at scout’s coffee.

there was historia reiss (oat vanilla latte), who was family friend to the ackermans and twice as rich; annie leonhart (double shot of espresso), who grew up next door; eren jager (black coffee) whom mikasa had gotten back together with at the end of year banquet; and, jean kirstein (cappuccino with extra foam), one of eren’s frat brothers who seemed to notice you more now that you were out of your emerald green uniform and instead squeezed into a very revealing bathing suit mikasa had given you to wear. 

she’d been doing that a lot since you arrived to paradis: giving you last year’s dress to wear at dinner, a blouse that didn’t fit her right, a skirt she wore once that she thought you would look so good in, trust her.

you’re sure it was a coincidence that jean only took interest in you now. 

“oy!” jean whistles your name from across the water. “enjoying the view?” 

you stop your task to look at him, but your eyes quickly wander.

you are, in fact, enjoying the view. on the other side of the pool, levi ackerman (no coffee, just earl grey tea) lounges on a pool chair. his pale skin shimmers under the afternoon sun. levi’s mouth is stained, red and sticky from the popsicle melting in his hand. 

levi, whom mikasa had already deemed off limits. he was family, she said, and you were her friend. it wouldn't be right, she said.

she might not be too thrilled to find out how much you wanted to run your tongue over levi’s lips and underneath his jawline, chase the sweet popsicle stains with the salty sweat on his skin.

“instead of painting mikasa’s nails, you should paint me like one of your french girls sometime,” jean continues, lifting his prada sunglasses just to wink at you. he then goes back to his conversation with eren, the two of them talking animatedly in the shallow end while sipping their beers.

oblivious or not to your staring, levi seems too busy devouring another gothic novel — last week was frankenstein by mary shelley. this week is oscar wilde’s the picture of dorian gray. he’s shirtless, wearing designer sunglasses, overpriced flip flops and board shorts. in his day-to-day summer outfit, an entirely new expanse of skin is on display: a sword tucked into his forearm; angel wings sprouting from his shoulders, almost golden under the sun’s rays; flowers and thorns blooming between his ribs; a snake slithering across his hip bone. 

mikasa clicks her tongue, a telltale sign that she’s impatient for you to get back to work, so you do.

“so, here’s the thing: eren told me than jean likes you,” mikasa says once you finish with her left hand and start on her right.

annie snorts. she’s one chair over, clad in a light blue bikini, suntanning with her eyes closed yet very much engaged with the gossip at hand. “you think? he’s been drooling over her since the start of summer. i’m surprised he hasn’t made a move yet.” 

“well, apparently, he’s been waiting for you to make the first move.”

you bite back a scoff. “why?”

“he likes to be chased, sometimes,” mikasa explains. “it’s a game to him.” 

“i don’t know. i’m not really looking to play any games,” you lie, thankful that she let you borrow one of her many pairs of vintage sunglasses as they hide how your eyes instinctively flick over to levi. 

“come on!” mikasa pouts. “jean would be, like, the hottest summer fling. he’s smart and sexy and definitely knows how to show someone a good time.” a sober mikasa would have never said that — eren would hate his girlfriend talking about another guy like that — but she reaches over to grab her second margarita, smudging the fresh polish on her thumb, and takes a long gulp before adding: “you should go for it. right, guys?”

“you should totally go for it!” historia encourages, leaning over the other side of annie to nod at you enthusiastically. “jean is such a catch.”

“heard he’s good in bed, too,” annie adds. “so, yeah. go for it.”

“right,” mikasa smiles, satisfied. “it’ll be good for you.”

it’ll be good for you. 

you didn’t even want to think about what mikasa meant by that, however well-intentioned. 

the truth is that you had arrived to the ackerman’s sprawling estate with a hand-me-down suitcase, one old swimsuit, and a bitterness buried in your throat. 

mikasa had invited you because she pitied you, the poor scholarship student working at the cafe she and the others frequented. all you had to do was comfort her after another argument with her flighty boyfriend eren jaeger, and suddenly the two of you were the best of friends. inseparable, even when spring finals bled into summer break.

friends is a generous word, really. she was your golden ticket, you were her charity case.

what’s that saying about the road to hell?

it’s paved with good intentions.

you wonder what that means for the road to paradise, then. 

“just promise me you’ll consider it? at least give it a chance? please?” mikasa looks at you with those naive, hopeless romantic eyes. she wants this for you, and you have to keep her happy if you want to stay in this paradise for a little longer. 

“okay,” you concede. “i’ll think about it.” 

when you glance across the pool once more, levi is gone. 

SPRING SEMESTER. 

amid the chaos of students rushing across campus, all you could focus on was useless clicking. 

click.

click.

nothing. not even a goddamn spark.

served you right, buying a lighter from the dollar store. 

“need a light?”

levi’s voice had a deep baritone, one that might have been calming if the two of you hadn’t spent the past hour bickering. he argued that caravaggio’s painting of judith beheading holofernes was more sophisticated than any other rendition; you challenged him, stating that artemisia gentileschi’s work was more powerful — cathartic, even — and therefore a better representation of the story.

erwin smith, the professor leading your art history seminar, urged the two of you to stay focused on the class material, but between you and levi — it always got personal. 

you couldn’t afford the textbook, so how could you know anything about art? 

his family bought his way into the university, so how could he know anything about anything? 

so on and so forth. razor-sharp insults and sarcasm that dripped from your tongues like honey, the other always eager to lap it up like a starving dog. 

if there was one thing you could count on from then on, it was levi providing a snarky comment or underhanded joke meant to remind you that you were only a guest in the aristocratic world mikasa pulled you into, and for you to defend yourself as best you could through equally cutting remarks.

it was like that ever since mikasa dragged you into the group earlier in the semester.

everyone was already a few drinks in at the pub when you walked in behind her. the most expensive whiskey was sitting in a crystal glass in front of levi. he quirked one eyebrow at you, silver piercing disappearing beneath his hairline. grey-blue eyes watching carefully — interested, suspicious — as mikasa introduced you.

it was exhausting. a little exhilarating, too, but not enough to keep you from sliding down to the ground, back against the cold limestone wall, knees pressed to your chest.

“not from you,” you told him. you expected him to leave you alone, grant you a minute to compose yourself.

instead, levi sat down next to you, legs stretched out because he knew the crowd would bend around him. you listened as he lit his own cigarette on the first try, handing it to you without taking a drag. 

long, slender fingers and a silver crested ackerman ring. black stars etched on the skin of his hand, similar to the ones mikasa has.

you couldn’t help but stare; levi ackerman had that effect on people. 

it was almost unfair how attractive he was. all he had to do was lounge against an old building, dark hair with a sharp undercut and eyebrow piercing glinting in the late afternoon sun, to give michaelangelo’s david a run for his money. 

you dug your nails into your palm to keep yourself from accepting his offer. there was always a price to kindness, especially with people like him. 

after a few moments, levi rolled his eyes. he brought the cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply, just for show.

“it’s not poisoned or anything. i wouldn’t do that. not to you, at least.” 

you weren’t convinced, but smoke curled around his words. when it hit your nostrils, you had to give in.

“god,” you practically moaned as warmth filled your lungs; your heart rate eased as you finally got your vice. levi let out something of a choke. his cheeks became slightly flushed.

it must have been your imagination. levi ackerman did not get flustered.

he cleared his throat, your fingers brushing against each other when he accepted the cigarette you handed back to him.

“mika says i’ve projected certain….insecurities onto you.” 

mikasa had changed her major three times already, and the one she’d settled on then was psychology. her new pastime was psychoanalysing the people around her, depending on which chapter was being covered that week. 

“she says i should apologize for —”

“being a dick?”

“yeah, i guess.” 

it wasn’t an apology. he just looked at you with his signature, disinterested gaze. 

“okay.” you wouldn’t give him forgiveness, anyways. 

“can i ask you something, then? without you biting my head off?”

a pause.

“fine,” levi responded. 

“what insecurities?”

another pause. he twisted the ring on his finger, almost nervously. 

levi ackerman did not get nervous, but maybe he wasn’t used to letting his guard down. 

the silence stretched between you.

“let’s just say that i’m not as blue-blooded as i try to seem,” he finally said.

you turned your head to examine levi ackerman: ironed button-down rolled up to his elbows, showing off elaborate tattoos that must have cost a fortune. brown leather satchel engraved with his initials. shiny new rolex.

“oh. could’ve fooled me.”

levi laughed, stiff and hollow. you could taste the bitterness from his lips when it was your turn with the cigarette, and instinctively licked your own. 

“you more than anyone should know: that’s kind of the point.” 

it was the way he said it that got you. his voice just above a whisper. protecting his secret — and, by proxy, yours. 

you gnawed the inside of your cheek, hard enough to taste copper. 

it never occurred to you that you might not have been the only outsider. 

there might have been reasons why levi remained on the edge of the group, a brooding mystery to most of them, why you were the only one levi bothered to argue with. there were reasons why he didn’t skip class or get blackout drunk on weekdays like the others, why he was always so pristine, so perfect, so composed. 

“look, i’m not a bad person. it’s just —”

“sometimes you have to bite,” you finished his sentence. “you’re angry at the world, and you know that the wrong person might take everything away if you step out of line and let that anger slip through.”

it was a coping mechanism; one wired within you, too, even if it sometimes manifested in different ways. you didn’t need a textbook to recognize that. 

“yeah.” 

you could tell he was trying his best to hide his reaction, but you knew — by the sudden glint in his eye, the slight relaxing of his jaw. 

levi ackerman did not let his guard down, but there you were, recognizing the hunger inside him as your own.

“well, i don’t care if you bite,” you promised. “just don’t be surprised if i bite back.” 

the corners of his lips curled into a smirk, matching your own.

“i’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

you let the time pass, let ash fall from the smouldering cigarette you shared until it was down to the quick. the sun was hidden behind the lecture hall by then, and the quad was quiet. only you and levi remained.

“i should get to my next class,” levi informed, breaking the comfortable silence you had unexpectedly built. he got up swiftly, although he was likely already late. 

“see you around.” you caught a flash of silver where he was just sitting. you grabbed it, and held it up. “don’t forget your lighter.”

he flicked his eyes towards the object in your hand, and he frowned. 

“keep it.”

“i – i can’t.”

“it’s fine. just take it.”

“i don’t need your handouts, levi,” you snapped. you remembered the time he had teased you for wearing one of mikasa’s blouses, warning you that her handouts aren’t enough to make you pass as one of them.

levi winced, clearly remembering too. “consider it a gift for being — what did you call me before?”

“a dick.”

“right. anyways, you’d be doing me a favour,” levi continued. “i’ve been wanting to get rid of this one; got a better one waiting for me at home.”

you would’ve continued pushing back, but it was too late. levi was already walking away. 

levi looked back once and winked at you. you let the cool metal lighter burn through your skin.

apparently, trust fund kids suck at monopoly. especially after a few bottles of wine taken from their parents’ cellar.

they don’t really have a strategy, and those who did…well, it can’t beat yours.

you secure property left and right, make deals, and, yeah, screw people over until you’re the only one remaining with any candy-colored bills. by the end, you’re drunk off pinot noir and a high on the euphoria of winning this little, insignificant game. 

“no fair!” jean whines. “how’d you do that?”

“a magician never reveals her secret,” you hum. 

“what if i asked nicely?” 

you shake your head with a slight smile, leaning over to grab the last of the pretzels as a cover for getting jean’s hand off your thigh. he’d become bolder in the past few days in his flirtations; you, in all fairness, gave as well as you got — lingering eyes, purposeful touching, flirty banter. 

levi, sitting across from you, sips his drink calmly. 

“maybe you just underestimated her,” he suggests. 

“hell yeah, he did.” historia gives you an enthusiastic high five.

“i did not underestimate her.” jean rolls his eyes. “it’s just, i didn’t expect her to —”

“ — have a strategy that might outwit you, of all people?” levi mocks.

“put your teeth away, ackerman,” jean huffs. “i’m just saying — i’m a business major.”

“you did fail econ 200 twice, jean,” eren points out. 

“you’re lucky daddy kirstein payed off the professor so you didn’t have to take it a third time,” levi quips, earning a scowl from jean. 

“don’t get me started, you underground piece of — ” 

“okay, good game everyone!” mikasa interjects, so loud her words bounced off the walls. the ackerman’s ‘cozy’ den is just as grand as any other room, large with signature tiled floors and marble columns. she turns to you and jean, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “why don’t the two of you go get more snacks, and the rest of us will decide on a movie?”

as everyone else follows mikasa to the home theatre, the board game now forgotten, you and jean head to the kitchen.

“my dad didn’t pay the professor off, for the record,” jean says as you start refilling bowls. he leans against the counter, watching you. “he paid for a tutor. i mean, i had to pass the class, right? if i’m going to take over my dad’s real estate company. there’s nothing wrong with a little help.”

you smile like you mean it. 

“of course not.” 

and that seems to pacify jean, until he bluntly asks: 

“is something happening between you and levi?” 

you freeze. “why would you say that?”

jean walks around the large kitchen island, stopping in front of you. 

“he just seems…protective over you.”

“nothing’s happening,” you swallow the lump in your throat, unable to say more. “nothing’s happening between me and levi.” 

if you keep saying it, maybe it will become true. maybe the tension will evaporate, and the fire in the pit of your stomach will die out, and you will be able to give mikasa what she wants.

jean watches you through thick lashes, hands creeping over your hips. playing the part, you throw your arms around his neck, fingers threading through auburn hair.

“good. because this dress is incredible.”

it’s mikasa’s dress. gucci, spring collection from the year before.

“jean,” you whisper his name like you want him. 

jean kisses you then, and you kiss back. he slides his tongue in your mouth, slides a hand underneath the dress you wore. whispers again how incredible the dress was, how good you would look on your knees for him later.

you feel nothing. it’s fine.

you squeeze your eyes shut and, ignoring your guilty conscience, imagine a certain raven-haired boy in jean’s place. it works fine, allowing you to deepen the kiss, but then jean presses his thigh between your legs, and his stubble itches against your cheek.

fuck. you don’t want this. 

lightheaded, you rip away from jean’s grip and place a hand on the counter next to you to steady yourself. you swallow as much air as you can, but still feel terribly breathless.

“everything okay?”

of course, it’s levi. he came to inform the two of you that cruel intentions was decided on (a message from mikasa), and to tell you to hurry the fuck up with the snacks (a message from eren).

jean smirks as he walks past your raven-haired boy and winks at you before he leaves the room.

levi is the one who helps you bring everything to the home theatre. he doesn’t say another word to you all night.

the only time you can truly be at peace in paradis is late at night, looking out into the dark green nothing. 

it became a habit of yours, going out to smoke when you figured everyone was asleep. you’d formed an attachment to a particular stone bench next to a statue of some melancholy mythological woman (persephone, maybe?), and parked yourself there every night to look up at the stars. 

quiet. limitless. alone.

even then, there’s always someone watching.

“nice lighter.”

those are the first words levi has spoken to you in the past week that aren’t delivered like he’s getting his teeth pulled. 

“nice shirt, too.”

you look down, remembering that you’re not wearing the nightgown mikasa had given you when she saw your actual pyjamas: a pair of old boxers and an oversized marvin the martian t-shirt. 

that’s one thing you can’t bring yourself to give up in all this, apparently: the soft, worn cotton that feels like home. 

the other, unfortunately, takes a seat next to you. you should tell him to leave you alone, but you find yourself wanting him to stay.

he reaches out for the cigarette. you pass it to him like a moth to a flame, body betraying mind, knowing deep down that it might cause you to burn in the end. you watch as he inhales deeply, then tilts his head up as if sending the smoke as an offering to the full moon.

the quiet, formerly comforting, now makes your skin crawl. 

“so….what’d you get on the final?” that’s the best you can do in terms of small talk with levi ackerman. your heart stops, when you realize your mistake — 

the reality of what happened the last time you studied together.

levi, for his part, doesn’t bring that up. he hands the cigarette back to you.

“97. you?”

“98.”

levi whistles. “better go celebrate with your new boyfriend.”

“he’s not my — ” 

you bite your tongue. 

careful. 

you want to bite that smirk off his lips.

it’s been a while, but he’s trying to rile you up.

you wonder what levi saw in you that made him think this was how to understand you: by throwing a punch and seeing if you could match his fight. 

the truth is that jean isn’t anything to you. nothing had happened after that moment in the kitchen, and you wanted to keep it that way. you know that levi is perceptive enough to notice how you subtly distance yourself from jean, despite mikasa’s efforts and jean’s once again one-sided flirtations. 

(you have a clear image of levi at breakfast a few days ago, prying open a ripe fig and holding his cup of tea from the top, burgundy bruises in the shape of someone’s lips decorating his neck and disappearing under the collar of his shirt. historia had thrown a party next door, and you had the profound displeasure of watching levi make out with someone who wasn’t you. as soon as your eyes met his from across the room, levi removed himself from the person sucking on his collarbone. you weren’t sure it was a coincidence.)

“so kirstein isn’t your boyfriend?” 

“what does it matter to you?”

“are you just hooking up, then?”

“why do you care, levi?” you snap.

it was dark, and you felt levi shuffle closer to you. you turned your head away, refusing to acknowledge the weight of his gaze on your body. 

“i think you know why.” his voice nothing but a burning whisper in your ear.

levi, the clever brat, after giving you the cold shoulder, is not only trying to rile you up — he’s teasing you.

god, you were losing your mind, playing levi’s game, when he should have been losing yours.  

you felt a fresh kind of heat spread through your body.

“whatever.”

you rip the cigarette from levi’s fingers, careful to avoid skin touching skin, snuff it out, and make all the moves to leave.

“wait.” he commands, grabbing your wrist before you can get too far. “let’s start again. i know you heard me earlier tonight.” 

you clench your jaw, still standing. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

(your bedroom is the closest to his, with only a bathroom with thin walls separating the two. earlier, you swore he was pleasuring himself to the rhythm of your name, but when you entered the bathroom to check, all you found was water swirling down the bathtub drain.) 

“i saw you.”

“what do you want, levi?” his name like poison on your tongue, fire in your throat.

levi doesn’t say anything for a bit. 

crickets chirp in the distance. 

neither of you move. 

“i think about that night all the time.” levi swallows, hard. “that night in the library.”

(during finals season, late night at the library, when you were both frustrated and bone-tired and in need of release, levi fucked you in a secluded corner. two fingers in, knuckle deep. you returned the favour after reaching your high, kneeling down on the carpet to taste him. he was wiping away his own cum from the corner of your mouth just as someone walked over to examine the shelves for a book on the italian renaissance. it was careless, and dangerous, and neither of you spoke of it again.) 

mikasa made her expectations for you clear, and you need to please her, so you bit back your desire, swallowed whatever spark might have been between you and levi, and carried on as acquaintances because you couldn’t really afford to let it catch.

except, levi’s looking at you like he did then, hooded eyes, dark blue with desire. 

he lets go of your wrist and you already miss his touch. 

so, the reckless part of you stays, sits closer to him, tries not to melt when his silk pyjamas brush against your naked thigh. 

“i think about your mouth.” he brings a tentative hand to cup your cheek, thumb tracing your bottom lip. “those pretty little moans, the way you said my name….” 

you can’t help it; you brush your fingers in the junction between his neck and shoulder, and find his pulse strong, but steady. 

“levi,” you sigh, and he shudders.

“fuck, just like that.” 

you and levi are so close now, you aren’t sure the air you’re breathing is your own. 

“it kills me, that you’re only a room away —” 

“i think about your fingers,” you finally confess. you lick your lips, grazing levi’s thumb in the process. “i think about the way you taste, how full you made me feel.”

levi sucks in a sharp breath. by now, he’s snaked his other hand underneath your shirt, fingers tracing shapes onto your stomach.

“kirstein might murder me.”

you nod slowly. 

“mikasa might never speak to me again.”

“you’ve been driving me insane all year,” levi justifies. “all fucking year. when mika brought you to paradis, i thought we’d have all summer….”

he scrapes his nails against your ribcage, wandering further into dangerous territory.

“i guess we better make up for lost time, then.” you suggest. his hand stills, eyes locked on yours. “don’t you think, levi?”

levi answers by surging forward, and kissing you with such ferocity, he might as well be a man starved. teeth on teeth on tongue. you tangle your hands into his hair, pull on some strands just to see what he'd do. he groans, and retaliates by biting down on your bottom lip, hard enough that you taste the metallic tang of blood mixed with the remnants of minty toothpaste on his lips. you whimper and pull away slightly. he holds your face firmly between his two hands, so you can’t go too far.

"sorry." levi smirks, and you know he doesn't really mean it. 

you don’t care. you tug his hair some more and crash your mouth back to his, let your tongue trace every one of his teeth as if committing to memory.

you’re jolted back to reality when his hand dips beneath the waistband of your underwear. 

“shit. wait.” you push levi away and need a second to appreciate the state he’s in: raven hair a mess of your own making, pupils blown wide as he watches you with greedy impatience. 

“what is it?” he presses when you take a second too long to explain.

“oh. it’s just,” a nervous laugh bubbles from your chest. you’ve craved this, craved him for so long, and it seems cosmically unfair that something else prevents you from satisfying your hunger. “i’m on my period.”

levi blinks at you. “so?”

you’re flustered, having to spell this out for him. “well, i guess we can’t really have sex, then?” you pause, watching as levi tilts his head. “i can suck you off if you want —

“what i want is to taste you,” levi states. “it’s lucky for you, i’m a vampire.” 

you would have bet all your money that levi was just fucking with you, ready to leave you to tend to yourself for the night. 

it’s a bet you would have promptly lost, seeing as levi slides to his knees and lodges himself between your legs.

“if you’re not comfortable with it, i don’t have to.” 

your teeth catch your bottom lip, heart almost beating out of your chest.

you could back out now, suck it up and get on your knees for jean instead, gush to mikasa about it later and keep making her believe that you’re following her word like scripture. 

but — it’s just so sincere. sweet, almost, how levi tilts his head up at you, waiting for your command like you’re a deity he’s dedicated his life to, willing to do anything and everything to prove his devotion. 

the final transgression, the nail in the coffin: 

you reach down to brush your fingers underneath his jawline and tell him it’s okay — that you want him.

levi sinks his teeth into the flesh of your thigh, soothing his tongue over the sting before removing your shorts and underwear.

he has his way with you, bringing you over the edge not once, but twice with his sharp tongue and skilled fingers. you bite your bottom lip to prevent yourself from screaming, until it’s just too damn much and you have to push levi’s head away. 

levi looks up at you again, this time with a devilish grin, canines sparkling in the moonlight. crimson on his chin, between his fingers. once spotless silk pyjamas are probably stained with grass and dirt and whatever wetness he’s gathered from you. 

maybe you should be on your knees, too, repent for the sin of crossing a line that was very clearly drawn, but you don’t care. 

you’re hot and sticky and overstimulated, and fuck if you aren’t entirely blissed out. 

levi confesses that wants, needs, to be inside you, so he carries you to his bedroom. you claw at the angel wings engraved on levi’s shoulder blades as he thrusts into you and sucks at your pulse point, your collarbone and chest.

“knew you’d feel like bliss, all tight and wrapped around me,” levi exhales, moving up to press his sweaty forehead to yours. “i’d call you angel, but we both know our friends would sentence us to hell for this. worth it though, right, baby?”

“fuck, levi,” you moan at the nickname, which encourages him to go faster. one of his hands moves to grip the pillow beside your head; you take the opportunity to angle your chin and run your tongue over the tattooed sword on his forearm, tasting salt. “so fucking worth it.”

you reach your climax when levi starts rubbing harsh circles onto your clit. he lets you ride out your high before pulling out of you, stroking himself a few times, and painting your stomach with his release. 

lingering in a post-orgasm haze, you take a few moments to look around. levi’s room is pristine, save for the dirty clothes you practically tore from each other’s bodies and the now ruined sheets. you’re about to close your eyes, but levi taps your cheek. 

“hey. you okay?”

“yeah,” you yawn, tracing a finger across the roses decorating his chest. “sorry about the mess.”

levi shakes his head. “don’t worry about that. i’ll do laundry tomorrow,” he assures. “but let’s get you cleaned up now, beautiful.”

it was such a rush at the beginning, between you and levi. now, the result of your… whatever you want to call it — obsession, violence, passion — sees the two of you sharing a bath.  the air thick with steam and smelling of citrus and bergamot. levi ackerman in a marble bathtub, skin wet and soapy after washing away blood and dirt. defined muscles and intricate tendons that could have been carved from marble, too.

he falls asleep in your bed, and you fall asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat.

in the morning, when you wake up, levi is sitting on your windowsill. backlit by the sun shining in, framing him with a halo, he takes a slow drag of his cigarette, preens for no one in particular as if for a portrait they’d hang in an art gallery. 

you’ve tried, multiple times, but could never quite capture his beauty. at least not with a regular hb pencil and flimsy sketchbook paper. you thought he deserved to be immortalised, all shadows and intense angles. maybe the louvre in paris or the uffizi in florence; displayed somewhere for all to admire, like renaissance portraits of italian nobles or ancient gods carved in stone, given sacrifices from starving peasants. 

levi represents everything you want to burn to a crisp.

and, yet.

levi notices you stirring.

he smiles at you (you’d sit in hell just for a glimpse of that rare, precious, levi ackerman smile) and murmurs a good morning, sweetheart (how is it possible that you can taste his words on your tongue, thick like honey and just as sweet?), all while looking at you like you were the work of art.

you feel something twist in your gut. 

you’re so, utterly fucked.

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

Marauders and the hot beverages they like:

James: He doesn't like to drink anything hot. He doesn't have the patience. He is the chocolate milk and smoothie type of guy for his breakfast. He drinks tea only when there's a tea party or he's chatting with someone that enjoys tea. But he waits for it to get cold to drink it.

Sirius: He has always preferred coffee over tea. He loves the taste, the aesthetic of holding the cup and the way it slowly stimulates him and gives him energy. He usually chooses to drink black and very hot coffee. But what very few know is that he drinks it with like 4 or 5 sugar spoons.

Remus: Always tea. And always earl grey. Never changes it for anything. It is his father's favorite and he drinks it just like him: 1 milk, 2 sugars. He loves to enjoy it two times a day. Plus he can drink a cup while reading comfortably.

Peter: Likes better the taste of coffee but always with milk. He thinks the flavor of tea is not that strong with milk. That's why he enjoys cappuccinos, mocaccinos, and lattes. But when at home or Hogwarts, he puts instant coffee to the hot milk. He always adds cinnamon, or vanilla, or any other spice. He likes to experiment and try something knew.

Lily: Doesn't stand the taste of coffee, she only drinks it when she is hangover or had a bad night sleep. But making faces and gagging like with medicine. Usually she drinks tea. Her favorite is always Green Tea. And when there's no green tea, she drinks black tea. She doesn't add milk because she is lactose intolerant. But she likes her tea very sweet.

Marlene: Only drinks coffee in the morning to wake up and have energy for the day. She drinks it black with a bit of milk and only one spoon of sugar. She drinks one cup a day, nothing more. She doesn't need more. Plus she doesn't like tea in general.

Mary: Loves coffee only on coffee shops in shape of lattes and Frappuccinos (usually cold). But daily, she likes to taste all kind of tea flavors. There are times when she drinks digestive teas to keep her figure. Other times, drinks fruit teas, or anti age teas for physical benefits etc. She is always coming up with a benefit about the tea she is currently having. She likes to feel healthy.

Regulus: Coffee addict through and through. Drinks like 4 cups a day, and still doesn't have energy. But starts getting stressed if he hasn't had a cup in a long time. Drinks it black with very little to no sugar. The bitterer, the better. Drinks tea only when he has to.

Dorcas: She likes Black Tea in the morning, after lunch, and after dinner. She has a routine out of drinking it. This calms her down during the day. She drinks it black with no sugar. Doesn't like any other tea and worse coffee. She thinks coffee is very unhealthy and tea shouldn't be superior.

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

MARTHA'S IS PRETTY ROMANTIC - CHAPTER TWO: JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY

summary: a lot can happen over two days, but the stand-out event just had to be that time you went to that restaurant and discovered that you didn't really enjoy seeing tyson flirt with other people. also: who the fuck is jamie?

warnings: awkwardness, mentions of anxiety, swearing, alcohol consumption, meddling, sexual tension, jealousy (both parties), tyson kind of being a dick

word count: 9.9k

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Mat and Toni, respectively, were on a mission. Oddly enough, neither of them had actually discussed their missions, because neither one was aware of the other’s mission. Mat didn’t know what Toni had been chatting about with you, and Toni didn’t know what Mat had been talking about with Tyson on the boat the day before.

But they each had a plan.

Both involved leaving you and Tyson alone at any possible opportunity. Take now, for instance, Toni was completely set on wringing the truth out of Mat about you and Tyson – but only after she’d insisted that she and Mat have a wander around some shops by themselves. That way she could kill two birds with one stone: talk to Mat and leave you and Tyson alone. (She had every intention of talking to Mat after tea, but as soon as the door shut…)

It was how you found yourself sitting at the window of yet another cute cafe, Tyson’s hat askew on your head after he kept complaining about it itching his forehead (he’d patted you rather condescendingly on your cheek when he placed it on you), the man himself at the till ordering your breakfast. There was a gift shop opposite, and it had taken approximately three people to walk out, all bearing paper bags for the idea to come to you.

“A cappuccino with pancakes, milady.” The tray was placed in front of you, as was a glass bottle with am orchid poking out of the top, and you looked up to come face to face with a grinning Tyson, who, after sitting down opposite you, rubbed his hands excitedly, “Fuck me, I’m starving.”

Your eyes wearily scanned over the heads of people in the near vicinity, a little worried that some kid had overheard, but everyone seemed consumed in their own company – no children in sight. You sat up a little straighter.

Martha’s was pretty romantic, wasn’t it?

You swallowed, trying to clear your mind, and almost as soon as your eyes landed on the food in front of you, you felt your stomach rumble loudly, “Me too.”

Tyson nodded, mouth full of his own stack of pancakes, and you stifled a laugh at his impatience, taking a sip of the coffee. 

It had been less awkward than you’d initially expected – waking up next to Tyson – considering the comments you’d so thoughtlessly said. He’d actually not even been in bed when you’d woken up, and it took you getting dressed and wandering downstairs to find him also dressed, sitting on the porch swing with a glass of juice as he watched the water peacefully.

(You would have gone back inside after finding him, had he not spotted you and patted the place next to him – but you decided the extra time with him couldn’t hurt. And anyway, you’d both mostly just sat in silence, not really having anything to say.)

It wasn’t until you’d finished eating your pancakes, both your cups of coffee half-empty that you started talking, his eyes instantly snapping to yours, “I think I’m going to get something for Mat and Toni as a thank you for letting me crash their vacation, d’you want in on it?”

Tyson nodded, “Sounds good. You got any ideas?”

You shook your head, “There’s a gift shop across the street, I thought we could start there?”

“That’s fine by me.” 

You offered a small smile, wondering if you were imagining the tension as Tyson averted his eyes back out of the window. 

And you also didn’t know if he noticed your lingering stares, or if he purposefully chose to ignore it altogether. In fact, you were sure you’d rather it be the former, but you weren’t exactly being subtle. It was always pretty easy to notice when someone had just looked away from you when you looked straight at them – and each time Tyson caught you, you could almost draw the look on his face as he pressed his lips together to muffle a smirk.

“You done?” Tyson leant forwards across the table, peering into your empty coffee mug.

“Yeah.” You nodded, grabbing your bag from the back of your chair, a little distracted by something as your eyes scanned every person sitting at the table.

There were flowers on each table, as well as a few candles, and above the door were more flowers, and everything seemed to be a shade of pastel. The entire cafe seemed…lovey. Ribbons were wrapped around the cakes, and when you thought about it, even your pancake had a heart drawn out in whipped cream.

You hadn’t noticed you weren’t paying full attention to your surroundings until Tyson’s hand shot out to move a chair out of your way, knuckles protecting your leg from an inevitable bruise.

“Are you okay?” He mumbled, and you met his eyes, nodding a little overwhelmed.

His eyes were flickering across your face, no trace of a smile on his lips as he opened his mouth again. You waited for him to say something, but instead he stayed put and silent. It wasn’t until he raised his brows, more out of concern than amusement, that you remembered he’d asked you a question and you hadn’t answered.

“I’m fine.” You said weakly, flashing a tight smile.

He clearly didn’t buy it, but he nodded and continued the winding journey around the tables to get to the door, you at his heels, where he held the door open for you.

It was almost a relief to see the pavement and breathe in non-baked-treat air. It seemed to calm your raging mind – from where that little thing had come from, you didn’t quite know, but it was weird. 

It wasn’t until Tyson was stepping up next to you, a strange look on his face that you realised quite what it was.

It was panic. 

What for?

You didn’t quite know.

“You sure you’re good?” He asked, “You look a bit shaken up.”

“I’m fine, I just didn’t realise how…cutesy everything was here.”

He tilted his head, “What do you mean?”

You swallowed, looking right to avoid his stare. It felt insignificant and a little embarrassing to be admitting it out loud, but this was Tyson.

You’d passed him neon dino undies last night.

“Martha’s is pretty romantic, you were right.” You mumbled, crossing your arms protectively.

His face didn’t waver one bit, and you were glad, “Thought you said you weren’t allergic to romance?”

Your shoulders shrugged before you could stop it, “I wouldn’t really know.”

Tyson swallowed, a little confused by your words. You still looked distracted, eyes bouncing everywhere, cheeks a little red. If he didn’t know better, he’d have assumed you were about to bolt back to the house, but you stayed cemented to the concrete beneath your shoes, completely unmoving. 

And he was about to inquire as to what you meant by that, because his mind was running around pretty quickly.

You wouldn’t know if you were allergic to romance? He had some serious questions, and if his hunch was right, he was about to get pretty pissed with some specific people that you—

Your eyes had settled. They were still moving, but the motion was less hectic and stressed. He followed your gaze, mouth parting at what you were looking at. It was an elderly couple walking down the other side of the street, hands clasped together, and bright smiles plastered on their faces as they conversed with each other.

Oh.

“You…” He started, trailing off. If he was being honest, he wasn’t quite sure where to start that conversation, or if he should start it.

But he knew what you were trying to say.

You turned to him, brow raised and a sigh leaving your mouth, “The gift shop?” 

He just nodded.

***

You and Tyson were the first ones back at the house, feet sore and legs a little achy, immediately seeking out the comfort of the soft sofa cushions, deep sighs of satisfaction released from your very souls. Neither of you said a word to each other as Tyson took one end of the sofa and you took the other, feet stretched and overlapping in the centre, eyes glued to the TV screen.

There were much better views to be had in the house alone; the porch swing you’d both sat at earlier was wonderful, but once you’d walked through the front door, all of that logic had just vanished the moment the sofa was in your eyeline. It was comfy – much too comfy to even consider the thought of having to haul yourself up and walk back outside.

By the time the front door opened and the sound of Mat and Toni’s voices travelled through the corridor, Tyson was asleep, head resting uncomfortably on his shoulder, and you were blinking sleepily, the bags by the side of the sofa just out of reach.

“Oh, they’re here–”

You widened your eyes, a finger pressed to your lips as you pointed at Tyson’s sleeping form. His arms were folded against his chest, and it took Mat to lean over his head to see his closed eyes for him to believe you. He pulled a shocked face, disappearing into the hall where Toni was lining up their own bags at the bottom of the stairs, and dragged her out into the living room to laugh at Tyson.

“He’s gonna be so sore when he wakes up.” Mat whispered, once again eyeing Tyson’s positioning, “What did you do to him?”

You shrugged, “Nothing, we just walked around all day. We actually got you guys something, but I’d wait until he wakes up first.”

Toni silently cooed, a hand over her heart as she rounded the sofa to get a look at Tyson, “How long has he been asleep?”

“About twenty minutes.”

“Can I get a photo of you two?” Toni asked, already pulling out her phone, and you hesitated, eyes drifting to the way Tyson’s curls seemed to hang over his eyes with the low angle of his head. 

He looked kind of adorable, actually. It wasn’t until Toni was encouraging you to look at the camera that you realised it was the first time you’d actually seen him asleep – he’d woken up earlier than you in the morning, and you’d both slept back-to-back in bed, limbs almost hanging off the edges because you were both too conscious of accidentally touching each other.

In fact, now that you were thinking about it, you weren’t sure he even slept a full eight hours. You’d both gone to bed pretty late, and he’d woken up early – you thought at the time the puffy-eyes were because he’d only just woken up, but now you were looking at him so completely out of it, that it had you wondering if he actually got any sleep at all.

You smiled as best as you could, though after Toni had lowered her phone, it dropped instantly. Mat fidgeted from the doorway, bringing bags of groceries through into the kitchen and shooting you a questioning glance.

“Should we wake him up?” He asked, wandering back into the living room, something else hidden in his eyes. It felt like you were missing something, but you weren’t well-versed enough in the ‘looks’ of Mr Barzal to catch onto what he was trying to ask.

You shook your head, “I don’t know if he slept properly last night. He went to sleep after me and he’d been out of bed a while by the time I went downstairs.”

“When did you wake up?”

“Eight-ish.”

Mat nodded, swallowing, before nodding, “Leave him until we’ve done dinner.”

You agreed, your attention going back to the TV until Mat and Toni had left the room. Then you turned to Tyson, where his feet were by your head, him pressed into the back of the sofa and you on the edge. If you moved or got out, you weren’t sure if he’d wake up at the lack of warmth, or if he’d be disturbed by the sofa dipping. 

So you decided to stay put until Mat and Toni started cooking. Then, and very carefully, you peeled yourself off the cushions, cringing everytime Tyson seemed to twitch or move in his sleep – which was more or less successful, especially when you dared to risk putting a cushion between his head and shoulder, attempting to alleviate the inevitable neck cramp he’d experience when he’d wake up later.

And even though none of you were trying to be quiet, pottering around in the kitchen or conversing (the TV was also still on), Tyson still didn’t wake up. In fact, he seemed to slip further from the arm of the sofa until he was laid horizontally on the cushions, rolling over at one point to face the back. 

It would have been endearing if you weren’t so worried about him.

And even after all the food had been cooked, and even after you’d filled him a plate up, not even the smell could wake him up.

“You gonna wake him up? Yeah, thanks.” It was Mat, escaping quickly out of the back door and joining Toni on the patio, leaving you alone in the kitchen, your sole focus still glued on the curly haired brunette curled up.

For some reason you’d expected Tyson to snore.

You stood at the front of the sofa, arms crossed. Waking people up was always a tricky thing to do, especially because it was always strangers you had to rouse; people were fussy and mardy about being woken up, but some people were impossible.

And you had a feeling Tyson belonged in the latter group, with the way he’d slept through the noise and commotion.

“Tys?” You asked, rather awkwardly trying to avoid touching him.

Nothing.

You sighed, reaching down to his jean-clad knee and shaking it. When that didn’t work, you contemplated tickling his feet, but the risk of getting kicked in the face was a little off-putting, and then you found yourself poking his cheek. Judging by the warmth radiating off him, you gathered he was pretty snug.

You threw a cautious glance over your shoulder, checking to ensure no one was watching through the window into the back garden, before kneeling down in front of the sofa, by Tyson’s head, and – rather nervously – reaching a hand into his hair. If nothing else worked, head or back scratches were always a pretty good shot.

“Tyson?” You murmured, nails gently scratching his scalp (his hair was softer than you’d imagined), and getting caught in his curls.

It took you using your other hand to flick his earlobe for a sign of life: he hummed, rolling onto his back and simultaneously forcing your hands off him. His eyes were still shut, face half-screwed up, and you held back a small laugh at his sleepy state.

“Tys,” you started, voice soft, “dinner’s ready.”

He slowly blinked awake, eyes immediately squinting at the lights above, before yawning and rolling his head towards you and scratching the beginnings of his facial hair on his chin, clearly a little confused.

“What?” He mumbled, a crease between his brows as he pushed himself up onto his elbows.

“Dinner. We’re eating outside.” You stood, pointing to the back door, where you knew he’d be able to see the outside lights from where he was laying.

“Already?” He asked, swinging his legs over the side and lifting his bare wrist up to his face, “What time is it?”

“Six.” 

His eyes widened, and he stood up next to you, stretching and groaning at the relief in his joints. A rough palm cupped the side of his neck and he frowned at the dull ache, “How come no one woke me up?”

“We weren’t sure how much sleep you got.” You said, a little uncertain.

He nodded, though, but didn’t say anything else on the matter, “It takes a day or two for me to be able to sleep in a bed that’s not mine.”

You nodded, your gaze sympathetic as you led him to the back door, where Mat and Toni were sitting at the outside table opposite each other, drinks in hand and pasta bowls full, two empty seats next to them. When Tyson followed behind you, Mat cheered and Toni made a joke, but Tyson only shrugged, taking the seat opposite you, immediately digging into his food.

You snuck glances at him throughout the meal, noticing he had a little more colour than earlier – which wasn’t something you immediately noticed – and that the bags under his eyes looked less severe. Letting him sleep had clearly been the right idea.

“Right.” Mat clapped his hands together, before pointing to the conservatory behind Tyson and Toni, “Pool tournament anyone?”

You froze, mid-sip of your G&T, a pebble of dread settling in your stomach. Automatically, your eyes flickered to Tyson opposite, hoping he’d provide you with some reaction, but he was looking straight at Mat, a competitive gleam in his eye as he grinned, “I’m down. What’re the teams?”

And because you were still looking at Tyson over the top of your glass, admiring his almost childlike excitement, you missed the look Toni shared with Mat.

“Me and Tyson?” Toni spoke up, twirling with her earring as her attention focused on you.

In fact, after you’d swallowed another mouthful of your drink, all three pairs of eyes were on you, and you hastily turned to Mat, finding yourself nodding before you could even dare to protest.

You’d expected Mat to go with Toni considering their relationship and all, but you were probably in pretty secure hands if Mat was your teammate too (besides, you got the impression he’d probably be a little more honest with you than Tyson).

It was how you found yourself in the conservatory thirty-seven minutes later, holding a pool cue and dreading your turn. 

You hadn’t played pool in ages, and your skill wasn’t that great then, so you’d prepared yourself for a game of failure and maybe a little embarrassment, but the alcohol would hopefully give you the confidence to embrace that fact.

Only, it seemed you didn’t have to worry too much about your ability, because everyone else was a little too inebriated to concentrate on hitting the ball accurately, and by the time it got to your turn, the only thing you couldn’t play off as the alcohol was actually holding the cue in your hands. You placed a hand on the table, mindful of the nearby balls, and lifted your palm onto your fingertips, slotting the cue between the crevice of your thumb and pointer finger. 

Now for the aim: you looked down the cue, lining it up with the cue ball, which was also straight on and in line with a solid ball. If you slammed the cue ball into the solid ball, you’d knock it against the side and…more or less near a pocket.

In your peripherals you could hear Mat and Toni muttering to each other, shoulder to shoulder – clearly no love lost even despite the competition – and you inhaled, steadying your hands, before pulling the cue back and smacking the cue ball; only your angle was a little off, and the ball landed…just shy of the pocket.

You stood up, unable to help beaming to yourself. It wasn’t as bad as you’d initially predicted. 

“Boom.” Mat stepped forward, knuckles bumping against yours in celebration.

“You can do the next one.” You mumbled, taking a step towards the shelf on the wall and drinking a mouthful of your drink.

When you turned back around, the first thing you saw was Tyson. He was standing on the opposite side of the table, both hands clasping his cue, and his eyes were trained on you. He caught your stare, pointedly glancing back at the table before mouthing ‘you’re going down, fucker’.

You stifled a grin, and if it were months earlier, you’d have probably teased back something along the lines of ‘on who, you?’, but this was now, and something had admittedly changed the entire dynamic of your friendship – probably for the worse, because as much as you tried to deny it, with all the odd tense moments, there was something beginning to nag at the back of your mind that nothing good could come of it, and you were downright petrified of even the thought of not having Tyson in your life.

So you stuck your middle fingers up at him in playful competitiveness, a dead serious look on your face, ‘in your fucking dreams’.

The smirk and adamant shake of his head in response did nothing to change the fact that you and Mat absolutely thrashed Tyson and Toni. So much so that Tyson pushed you into the pool after teasing him too much, though not before you could grab his shirt and pull him in after you.

You both went to bed with aching cheeks after that.

***

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you looked up at the owner of the shadow that had darkened the printed words in your book significantly – not that you needed to look at him; you would have recognised his voice through a fucking whisper – and faced an extremely familiar silhouette, blocking your strip of sun on the lounger. His chest was heaving a little and his entire upper body seemed to be glistening with sweat, even to the edge of his curls as they caught the sunlight, and he stood before you with his hands on his hips, looking undeniably and frustratingly attractive, “where were you this morning?”

You blinked, finding some semblance of safety and solace behind the dark lenses of your sunglasses, eyes secretly roaming…everywhere. You weren’t aware of the phenomenon of someone getting unbearably more attractive by the day, but you were absolutely certain the person standing in front of you was experiencing it in real-time.

Like the day before, you’d woken up by yourself in bed. The sting of disappointment was still there, but you’d managed to get yourself used to it; your expectations were lower and a part of you seemed to acknowledge the fact that his hockey schedule had his internal clock waking up about two hours earlier than you. According to Toni, the same went for Mat, too.

His broad shoulder shrugged, “I went to the gym with Mat and then we both went on a run for a bit. Why, d’you miss me?”

“I just haven’t seen you before ten in the morning, yet.” You excused, moving your hand to shield yourself from the onslaught of the sun – to say it was late morning and the back garden at the house Mat had rented was facing away from the sun, it wasn’t half blazing.

Tyson raised his brows, his cheeks still a little red from the exercise, “You mean you want to see me before ten?”

In truth, somehow you felt as though things between you and Tyson had eased a little – despite the fact this was the first time you were even interacting with the man since last night; something had just been sorted. It felt as though a squeaky joint had been oiled, though you felt partially that it was the buffer of one day separating you from the awkward comment you’d made about dressing him.

Nevertheless, you welcomed the previous ease with a smile and a fluttering heart. After all, he was standing in front of you perfectly tanned and sweaty and with a glorious smile on his face as he looked straight at you. There wasn’t really anything you could complain about.

“I mean,” you started, “I’d like to at least wake up with you in bed.”

He swallowed, “Oh, really?”

“It’d make me feel less like a lazy-ass.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“No.” For some reason, you were gripped by a sense of boldness that had never really shown itself, “I bet you look cute in your PJ’s.”

Even in the ensuing silence you didn’t take your eyes off of him. It felt like a pointless exercise at this point.

Except, what he answered next seemed to just blow your mind into smithereens.

“I only wear boxers.”

The shorts he’d gone jogging in weren’t all that long compared to the usual sports attire you’d seen him in and the tease of imagining him in only boxers – like the night you’d made that god-awful comment – sent your mind spiralling and your cheeks heating in misplaced anticipation. You knew he looked good in boxers; anything that highlighted the bulk of his thighs and the muscles in his chest and abs seemed to do the job, and knowing that each night so far he’d been sleeping in so little couldn’t help but render you into speechlessness.

Still, you feigned indifference, “I stand by what I just said.”

“I wear a PJ-based outfit nearly everyday,” he excused, swiping a hand across his face, “I’m gonna go shower and then I’ll come back out. Where’s Mat and Toni?”

“Toni’s wandering around and Mat’s in the shower I think.”

“In that case, I’ll be back down soon.”

“‘Kay.”

And Tyson remained true to his promise, returning not even ten minutes later wearing a pair of swimming trunks and a smile as he plopped down on the empty bed next to you, a bottle of sunscreen in his hand. Your eyes remained loyally on the book in your hands, even as he began lathering himself in sunscreen, his skin almost shimmering in the glint of the sunlight.

At least, you didn’t look until his struggle became a little obvious.

“Do you think you could get my back? Please?” He asked, twisting from where he was sitting, the bottle still in his hand but within reachable distance.

In all honesty, you never even had the thought to say no. Why would you?

“Sure.” You tucked your bookmark into the crease of your book, placing it on the bed before swinging your legs over the side of the lounger, choosing to spray the suncream onto the palms of your hands first instead of straight onto his back.

It was no secret that Tyson, along with the general hockey population, had broad shoulders. It was hard to miss; sometimes the seams on his t-shirts stretched a little too much for comfort, or sometimes the seams just simply weren’t aligned with the angles and joints of his shoulders. It wasn’t something you hadn’t noticed before, but it was a whole other thing to experience when your hands were touching him.

He was warm, and his skin was deliciously soft. 

It was actually the first time you’d ever touched him skin-to-skin, and he seemed to remember that fact entirely when he shivered, bending his head to his feet to hide the planes of his face from your suspicious eyes. Only, once you’d touched him, it seemed to leave an uncomfortable tingling in your palms.

“Hang on, I think I missed a spot.” You mumbled, squirting some more lotion into your hands.

The relief seemed to kick in when your hands were back on his skin once more, and the confusion of that realisation seemed to send your heart hammering so forcefully against your ribs that it was almost painful.

Tyson’s back was so covered in suncream by the end of it, you’d be shocked if he even got any tanning done in the first place. 

He cleared his throat when you clicked the lid back on the bottle, but when he turned back around, there was a little extra something in his eyes when he looked at you. His eyes usually were softer with you, but there was something else hidden in the depths of the dark pools; something you couldn’t quite translate, because you’d never exactly seen that specific kind of look directed at you.

Ever.

You swallowed, trying to ignore the immediate and instantaneous flush of your cheeks as you ducked your head, tucking some hair behind your ear just to give your hands something else to do to distract yourself from the dissatisfaction at not touching him still.

You thought the idea of losing Tyson was the most terrifying thing you’d ever imagined, but it was nothing compared to the devastation you could experience if it meant you’d never be able to do…that. 

And that seemed to send you spiralling a little.

Until, of course, he intervened.

“Do you want me to do your back?” He posed, an empty hand held out.

You nodded, swinging your legs over the other side of the lounger. If anything it gave you time to stall and reorganise your own face so that when you inevitably looked at him again, you’d at least appear somewhat normal.

This is what Tyson had meant when he’d told Mat your relationship was complicated.

His hands were like an antidote to the thoughts swirling in your mind, and for a brief moment, everything went silent. He took his time, hands even smoothing under the strap of your bikini, yet not straying into disrespectful territory. You wondered if he was having the same internal monologue as you, but even though you tried to ignore it, there was a small part of you wondering if this was something he had come to terms with a while ago – especially if he’d told that to Mat so long ago.

Nothing seemed to quieten your mind when, not even five minutes later, you turned back to your book. Your eyes were skimming pointlessly over the words, but nothing was quite registering, the main voice heard being the one in your mind, practically screaming mindless and senseless theories at you whilst Tyson laid peacefully next to you.

***

The rest of the day seemed to go by like someone had held in a fast-forward button: nothing but a blur of light and colours or a cacophony of sound. You knew nothing extensively productive had been done; mostly just relaxing by the beach and pool respectively, trying to recuperate the energy everyone had burnt and spent yesterday.

And naturally, after a full day of lounging around, you’d all pretty much agreed dinner out was the best way to go: you’d yet to go to a local restaurant, and no one could really be bothered actually cooking after the barbeque yesterday (there was also the washing up, and absolutely no one was willing to stick their hands in a scalding tub of water in this hot weather).

It took about ten minutes to decide on which restaurant to choose that’d cater to everyone’s tastes, and you were pretty glad at how it had turned out. The place wasn’t too busy, and by the time you’d all sat down at the table and already managed to work your way through two rounds of drinks, the role of ordering the next round had miraculously fallen to you.

It was how you found yourself leaning against a sticky bartop, forearms aching slightly at the pressure of leaning against the wood. The drinks you’d had so far hadn’t kicked in yet or provided you with some relief to get away from Tyson’s burning gaze and dim the sharp awareness you seemed to have developed in the last twenty-four hours, but even so, you didn’t notice the figure next to you until he’d shuffled close enough for you to smell his cologne and feel the material of his shirt against your bare upper arm.

“Woah.” You muttered, taking a sidestep to avoid getting shoved into.

Luckily, the guy didn’t follow your movements, but when you turned to see what had happened, he was wearing a friendly smile and holding his hand out for you to shake – not only was it a little creepy, probably trouble, but it was entirely inconvenient considering the fact that you could still feel Tyson’s searing stare on you from the other side of the room.

Your skin prickled with it, and you felt kind of glad you’d been told to get the next round because at least it was an excuse to get some fresh air without feeling so on edge all the time (and it wasn’t even like Tyson had done anything – that was all you, which made it all the more difficult to deal with).

“Sorry, I tried getting your attention but I don’t think you heard me.” The man explained politely, his hand still suspended between you both, “I’m Jamie.”

You tilted your head, taking him in. There was something about him that was vaguely familiar, like you’d either met him before or he just had one of those annoying faces that reminded you of someone you couldn’t put your finger on; he had thick blonde hair that curled under his ears and seemed to fall in layers on the top of his head, and very clear sea-green eyes. There was a rugged handsomeness about him, and whilst you pasted a polite smile on your face, you shook his hand.

And almost as soon as you made the move to do so, his face seemed to crumple as his brows furrowed and his lips parted – all attempts at possibly flirting flying right out of his head.

“Do I know you?”

“Have we met before?”

You spoke at the same time, both now wearing equal expressions of confusion, and unable to help laughing a little awkwardly, minds racing.

You introduced yourself, wondering if your name might ring a bell, but he shook his head, the creases on his forehead deepening. 

“Nothing.” He said, “I do know you, though.”

It was a blunt thing to say to a stranger, and if it weren’t for the way your brain seemed to also be spinning you’d have probably run the opposite way, but you felt glued to the spot. It was like your brain wouldn’t let you move until you figured out just what significance Jamie had in your life.

“Where did you grow up?” He asked, tapping his fingers against the bartop, his eyes momentarily leaving you to flicker to the front of the line.

No one had budged: there was only one bartender, and apparently everyone ahead of you in the queue had also been designated to buy the next round and was ordering drinks for their groups, because each person was taking a while to be served. 

“Minnesota.” You answered, “You?”

This was fucking weird.

“Fort Mac. College?”

“Penn State.”

“UBC.” He sighed, scratching the scruff on his chin and letting out a sound that was somewhere between a frustrated huff and a psychotic cackle.

It made you smile a little.

“Where do you live now, if you don’t mind me asking?” You asked, raising a brow.

He could be a friend’s ex? Or an old work colleague? A family friend? A neighbour?

Jamie swung his gaze back to you, and there was a flicker of something that seemed to click in your mind. A fragment of a memory – it was a split second of a frame of something, but the face in it was younger: his cheeks were a little fuller and he didn’t have any facial hair.

But before you could grasp onto it, the flicker of recognition seemed to dissipate completely, leaving you just as clueless as before.

“Fuck.” You groaned, “I thought I had it, then.”

Jamie laughed, it was a deep, gravelly sound that seemed to resonate in your bones, and from where you’d put your hand against your head in frustration, you turned to him.

He was actually quite pretty for a man. It was a realisation, sure, but with that also came the knowledge that when you thought that thought, you felt…nothing. There was nothing. 

Oh no.

You swallowed, risking a glance back at your table to see Tyson chatting to Toni about something, and almost instantly the symptoms seemed to kick in: your hands got clammy and your pulse picked up. Your eyes caught Mat over all the customers, and he flashed a concerned thumbs up, clearly hinting at Jamie, and you offered a smile, repeating his action, before turning back to the man at hand.

You must really like Tyson.

Like a lot.

You cleared your throat, trying to distract yourself from the way your thoughts seemed to take a spiral down and remove you from your present being, but before you could even conjure up something to say, Jamie had gasped – as far as a man of his stature could do such a thing.

“I know.” He stuttered, pointing a finger at you with a wild look in his eyes, “I live in Vancouver right now, but you live in Buffalo, right?” He asked, talking quickly as though he was afraid he’d lose his train of thought mid sentence.

All you could do was nod.

“We met before at a hockey game in Vancouver, it was against Buffalo, and you were in the drinks line with a friend and you guys overheard me tell my buddy about something–”

Tyson felt off – only he knew the sole reason for the off-feeling and also knew what the off-feeling was: it didn’t take much guessing or analysing on his behalf. All he had to do was sneak a glance at you out of the corner of his eye (Toni was still talking to him, but every so often he felt like his eyes were just pulled in your general vicinity), and the reason for the prickle of his jealousy was staring right back at him.

There was a guy talking to you. Tyson wouldn’t have minded at all if it didn’t look like you two knew each other, or the fact that as the line grew shorter your conversation seemed to get more animated. You’d been laughing, the guy had been laughing, and Tyson wasn’t unaware of the fact that he was attractive.

No, that was a fact he was painfully aware of.

And he knew the whole jealous thing wasn’t necessarily a possessive spirit, because instead of feeling the need to walk over and interrupt, all he felt was a vague swell of panic that had been slowly building under his sternum and had spread out across his ribs. He felt his heart rate pick up and his mind disconnect itself from Toni’s conversation (she wa a little tipsier than everyone else, and Mat was involved in the conversation too, so he assumed Toni wouldn’t be able to pick up on his lack of presence), and he had to swallow the rising lump in his throat.

He’d never been affected by you like that before, and a part of him knew it was because whenever you two would see each other outside of hockey fixtures, it’d just be the two of you, which meant he was blissfully unaware of other people’s intentions with you. In fact, when he thought about it, he didn’t think he could ever remember feeling threatened by someone else that could hurt his chances with you – although at the time he hadn’t had any kind of hope that you’d reciprocated his buried feelings, so things were a little different.

Even so, he still wasn’t sure about how you felt, and he was far too much of a chicken to outright ask you.

Something drove against his shin under the table, pulling him out of his thoughts. He turned straight to Mat, who was shooting him a pointed glare and subtly nodding his head in Toni’s direction and Tyson had the horrid feeling as though he’d just been caught ignoring her.

He cleared his throat, turning to Toni with an apologetic smile, “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Toni took a sip of her drink, trying to hide the knowing smile on her face. Tyson might have unintentionally not heard what she’d said, but one glance at his eyeline gave her all the answers she could ever need, and for that, she rather found Tyson getting distracted amusing (even if she repeatedly said his name to get his attention – Tyson could do little wrong in her eyes, ever).

“I was asking if you had any ideas on what we could do tomorrow?” Toni repeated gently.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. Tyson was thinking, but his mind was blank. All he could picture was the word and Toni’s face as she waited patiently for an answer.

He cleared his throat, “I don’t know, what’re you guys thinking?”

“We were thinking we all do our own thing and then have a movie night?” Mat proposed, shrugging as he kept one arm over the back of your empty chair. And like there was some magnetic pull towards you, Tyson flickered his attention over to you.

He wished he hadn’t. 

The guy was scribbling something down on a piece of paper, and you took it from him with a smile.

Tyson ducked his head, staring into the bottom of his empty beer glass, a little despondent, “Yeah, that sounds fine by me.” He mumbled, completely missing the shared look between Mat and Toni.

“You okay, Tys?” Mat asked, and though he was somewhat amused by his friend’s lovesick symptoms, he was equally as concerned for his quietness. Tyson wasn’t usually so silent; most of the time he was always engaged in some kind of enthusiastic conversation – and it was pretty rare that he wasn’t smiling.

He just nodded, changing the subject, “Why don’t you guys use those spa vouchers we got you for tomorrow?”

“Oh,” Toni hummed, looking at Mat, “That sounds like a nice idea.”

“Yeah, we can do that.” Mat agreed.

“Sorry it took so long, the queue was pretty slow.” You retook your seat, the previous conversation coming to an abrupt end – causing you to raise a curious brow.

Your eyes swept right over Mat and Toni, both of whom eagerly took their drinks off the tray muttering their thank you’s, and came to rest on Tyson. He took his drink all the same, but there was a weight and heaviness on his face – it looked like concentration with the way his mouth had twisted to one side, but he hadn’t even acknowledged your presence.

“Is everything okay?” You directed the question to the group, but your eyes slipped unintentionally to Tyson, who shrugged.

“Yeah, we were just talking about tomorrow. Mat and I are gonna use those spa vouchers you got us.” Toni explained, and you nodded.

“Sounds like a plan.” 

And with that, the conversation started flowing again – but your attention was still somewhat tied to Tyson, who still hadn’t said anything.

You tried to get his attention by sneaking unsubtle glances at him in the hopes he’d look back, but it worked to no avail. 

“I need the bathroom.” He excused himself quickly, not making eye contact with anyone at the table before he’d turned on his heel to make his way to the bathroom. There was a patterned divider screen paving the short corridor before his figure completely disappeared from view as the door shut behind him.

When you turned back to Toni and Mat, the question of whether he was alright or not died on your tongue at the way they were both looking at you.

“What?” You questioned, your hand immediately going to rest against the cool glass of your drink. 

They were both looking at you with identical expressions of something on their faces, but you couldn’t quite place the meaning of it.

It was Mat who took the liberty of answering your question, “He saw you talking to that guy at the bar.”

Oh.

“So?”

Toni laughed softly, “So he got jealous.”

You felt yourself pull a face at her words, almost scoffing in disbelief, but no words came to mind. 

“You two did look pretty cosy.” Toni continued, arching a brow in your direction as she elegantly took a sip of wine, peering at you over the top of her glass.

“We weren’t flirting.” You excused, shaking your head as your eyes went back to the divider near the bathroom.

“Josty didn’t know that.” Mat said, “But he did see you guys laughing–”

“And he saw the piece of paper he gave you.”

“There was a piece of paper?” Mat’s eyes widened, before he winced, “Ouch.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes, “His name is Jamie and we met a few months ago at a Buffalo-Vancouver game and he gave me his number, yeah, but it was because he mentioned his company had a position in his Buffalo office–”

“He offered you a job?” Mat tilted his head in your direction, shock clearly written across his features.

You shook your head, “He told me about a job; it pays better than my current one and it doesn’t involve a fifty-minute commute. I think I’d be pretty crazy not to consider it.”

They were both silent.

“So he really wasn’t flirting?” Mat double-checked, and you sighed, a little frustrated.

“He tried to, but I told him I wasn’t interested.”

“Why?” Toni shot back, interest in her eyes.

You huffed, and maybe if you weren’t already a little tipsy, you’d have said something about not knowing why, but the alcohol currently in your system as well as the sips you’d taken from your new round made you a little less self-conscious of being honest…at least to a certain extent, “Because he’s not my type.” You shrugged.

“And your type is what, exactly?”

And then you went silent. The hand clasped around your glass seemed to react before you could register what you were doing, but you raised the glass and took a mouthful.

Mat, however, seemed to have the opposite reaction. He slumped comfortably in his chair, a lazy smirk on his lips, “Your type is Tyson.” 

And if you were being honest, the thing that stung you most wasn’t necessarily the truth: that perhaps the pinnacle of ‘your type’ was Tyson after all, but the fact that other people had caught on. You weren’t entirely aware your recent not-so-subtle crush on Tyson had been obvious – mostly considering it was a realisation that you’d come to within the last few days.

“Come on, you guys have liked each other for months–”

What. The. Fuck.

“What the fuck.” You breathed, unable to help the comment slip out of your mouth in shock, “No.”

Mat frowned, his brows knitting together as he shook his head in your direction, an adamant expression on his face as he seeked out Toni for reassurance, “Yes.”

You inhaled sharply, hand now pressed against the table, “No, I didn’t figure that out until literally two days ago. I’m only now realising that I’ve been crushing on him this entire time. Some fucking denial…”

Once more, a shroud of silence seemed to envelope the entire table. Mat remained frozen, crazy eyes fixated on you (not that you blamed him, you weren’t entirely sure you weren’t making this entire conversation up in your own head at this point), and Toni’s mouth had dropped in shock.

Then, something seemed to crawl across your skin. It was a prickle of foreboding, something that could have been easily mistaken for anxiety had you not had the displeasure of experiencing said emotion firsthad, but this kind was unfamiliar.

Again, like your body was trying to tell you something, your eyes circled back to the divide near the bathroom.

Something sour immediately seemed to collect in your stomach, and you swallowed harshly, tearing your eyes away from the scene with a curl of displeasure fogging your brain, “Looks like you were wrong on his behalf, though.”

In his defence, Tyson was ambushed. He was wholly and honestly ambushed right from the second he stepped out of the bathroom door. He hadn’t seen it coming; though who could? She’d been blocking his path back to the table completely and he couldn’t even say he’d ever seen her before, and the second she introduced herself with that sultry smile he knew what was about to happen. It was something that had happened numerous times before, and not something he could say was exactly convenient in that exact moment – especially if you were to look straight over, because from your seat he knew you had a pretty solid view of the doors, kind of like how he’d had a pretty solid view of the bar not even ten minutes ago.

Perhaps it was karma. Maybe it was a coincidence. Or maybe it was an opportunity to get back at you, to see just how you’d act when he sat back down at the table. If you were completely normal, he’d know for certain you weren’t even the slightest bit interested, but if you weren’t? Well, he’d definitely take note and then have to ask Mat how to proceed because he wasn’t that good at stuff like that.

Though, he tended to be good at it when you were involved, but that was riding on a major ‘if’.

It was why he (rather cruelly) entertained himself in the conversation with the lady clearly waiting for him. She was bold, he’d give her that, but she wasn’t you – could never be you.

“Are you liking Martha’s so far?” She asked, tilting her head seductively in his direction, and Tyson physically restrained himself from sneaking a glance in your direction.

“Yeah, it’s pretty incredible. Good views, and all. What about you, you having fun?” He couldn’t ever say he was good at talking to people he didn’t know, because if he did he was sure he’d be branded some kind of world-class liar, but he attempted it, at least for appearance’s sake.

“I mean,” She laughed, placing an unwanted hand on his bicep that he’d luckily kept covered with a blazer, “I could be having more fun, if you get my drift.” She raised an eyebrow, and to be polite, Tyson shuffled out of her grip subtly, and although she dropped her hand, the smirk on her face remained pretty steady.

He laughed a little awkwardly, something between a grimace and a smile on his face, “I do, but I’m taken.” He lied easily, this time momentarily making direct eye contact with you for a brief second. He couldn’t decide if his heart simply stuttered or actually stopped beating, but he swore when you looked away he’d never felt so aware of what he was doing.

He was being a dick just to get a reaction out of you.

“Oh.” The girl’s expression dropped and she took a respectful step back, “I apologise.”

“No need, I...” Tyson shrugged, trailing off pathetically.

Then she turned around, clearly able to focus on exactly who had stolen his attention for that brief moment, and when she looked back at Tyson there was a gleam of understanding on her face, “She’s beautiful.”

“I know.” There wasn’t even a debate about it, the words had just flown so freely out of his mouth that he couldn’t ever really imagine saying anything with such confidence in his entire life.

The girl flashed a soft smile, the kind that had Tyson wondering if she ever really had the true intention of really flirting with him, and simply wandered into the ladies bathroom next to him.

He remained rooted to the spot, his mind reeling. Really, he was flattered, but other women flirting with him had never felt so uncomfortable. He felt the awkward desire to apologise to you for some reason; it wasn’t as though there was anything tying him to you on any kind of level. There’d only been a  few moments but not enough for him to hate it when it wasn’t you flirting with him. Surely?

He cleared his throat, hand over his chest as he looked up. Straight in your direction. The food had arrived, the plate in his empty place steaming, but it was the look on your face that had him moving. You’d bitten the inside of your cheek and there was a thoughtful, vacant look in your eyes – something was up.

Only, when he’d returned to his seat, you ignored his questioning glance and instead offered a tight, clearly irritated smile.

And something dropped in his stomach: it felt an awful lot like guilt.

***

Somewhere along the lines it was decided a walk back to the house would be a good way to end the night. Mat and Toni were walking ahead of you and Tyson, hands intertwined and hushed conversation flowing easily. It couldn't have been more opposite than yours and Tyson’s current situation.

There was at least an arm’s length between you both, and neither of you had spoken a single word since the restaurant. 

It was awkward.

He had still given you his jacket, though – but even that went without words other than your concerned glance to his bare arms (he shrugged), and a muttered thank you.

You wanted to ask if he was okay, there was just something nagging you in the back of your mind, but you pushed it down. It wasn’t even fair of you to be a little pissed at him, but you were. In fact, you were more pissed at yourself. Perhaps if it hadn’t looked as though you were flirting with Jamie, Tyson wouldn’t have flirted with the gorgeous girl outside the bathroom.

Then again, you had learnt a lesson from tonight, so you’d chosen to take that presumption with a pinch of salt, because if you didn’t, you’d be a whole hypocrite.

You just needed a breather, and the only way you could process everything in your head and everything your body was telling you about the man next to you, was to process it in silence. In your own head and on your own terms. 

Hopefully the processing wouldn’t last too long, though.

“Excuse me.” You stopped, twirling around at the sound of a soft, delicate voice. Your arms immediately uncrossed from against your chest, coming to rest at your sides as you flashed a polite smile at the elderly couple that had stopped you.

Your eyes automatically flickered down to their chained arms, and that slow sense of panic from yesterday began to tease at your insides again.

“Is everything alright?” You asked.

The sound of footsteps getting closer registered somewhere in the back of your mind, and your skin seemed to erupt in goosebumps when a subconscious part of your mind registered it was Tyson that had pressed himself closer to you. Again, he wasn’t touching you, but you could still feel his presence and warmth.

You’d never really been this in-tune with him before.

The man smiled back up at you, and you ignored the way his wife’s curious eyes slipped to Tyson behind you, “It is, but we’re just a little bit lost, and we were wondering if you could point us in the right direction?”

You nodded instantly, automatically turning to Tyson, who’d already read your mind and was pulling up maps on his phone, “Where do you need to be?”

The man – Eric – answered, and you nodded in understanding, curling your head to look down at Tyson’s phone. You felt your heart start to race at the closeness: he was still standing a little behind you, but he’d placed his phone in a position you could also see his screen, so all you had to do was turn your head a little to the right, his curls ticking the top of your head. 

Neither one of you made a move to inch away.

“I’m really sorry if I’m overstepping here, but you two make a lovely couple.” The lady – Freda – said a little sheepishly.

The breath in your chest seemed to still, and you felt your mouth form a shape, but no sound came out. Luckily, Tyson seemed to take the lead, his media training and prep for keeping a straight face and calm demeanour (all of which you were failing ridiculously in) being used to–

“Thank you.” 

You inhaled sharply, head snapping back to him in surprise. Of all things you’d expected him to say, a simple thank you was most definitely not on the cards – at all. In fact, you’d fully prepared for him to shoot it down with a smile, but here he was, accepting it with a smile.

And you misjudged exactly where he was, because in all the heart-stopping seconds you’d just experienced, it hadn’t even occurred to you that he’d also turned to face the couple. So when you turned back to him, chest aching with something that had recently come into fruition, you turned into him.

The proximity of your faces was so close that even with a small breath you could feel it fan across your cheeks. His nudged your cheek, and almost as though it was rehearsed, both of your gazes instantly went to the other’s mouth.

Before flicking back up to the eyes, and when you did, something seemed to crack. Or click. You couldn’t quite determine which, but there was a heavy vulnerability written there clear as day: he was just as taken aback by the sudden closeness as you were, though he seemed to have mastered the ability to hide the rest of his emotions pretty well.

As for you, you were sure he could see just about everything on your face.

Before the moment could be ruined, you took one daring look back at his lips, suddenly struck with the strength of the magnetism between you both. You felt compelled to kiss him then. The thought had the corner of your mouth twitching up fractionally and your breath hitching in your chest, because that idea wasn’t at all as petrifying as you thought it would be.

You wanted to kiss Tyson in a way that if you did, it’d just screw you both up.

He must have been on a similar wavelength, however, because his cheeks seemed to colour and his tongue darted out to wet his lips, almost testing you, a hungry glint in his eyes.

And then it was over as quickly as it had happened.

The couple got their directions and you and Tyson all but speed-walked home in the exact same situation as before the interruption: maintaining a safe distance and in an awkward silence, though this time for a slightly different reason.

“I’m going to bed.” You announced immediately after walking through the front door, needing to sit in silence in the dark for a while longer.

Tyson.

Your brain just seemed to scream his name, and although you knew exactly what it meant, it didn’t mean you weren’t a little intimidated by the prospect of it. Only, when he came upstairs twenty-minutes later, you were laid on your side facing the window, and he didn’t bother to be quiet, probably assuming you weren’t asleep anyway, and threw a piece of screwed up paper onto your bedside table with an audible, resigned sigh.

You felt him hesitate, and you cracked your eyes open a little to see him with his hands over his face before they fell down to his sides in resignation. There was a hardness to his jaw and he looked…devastated.

It wasn’t until he’d gone into the bathroom that you unfurled the piece of paper, nerves haywire at what exactly could have caused such a dramatic change in demeanour.

Fuck.

Jamie’s number.

You placed the paper back where he put it, anxiety crushing through your system when there was a muted sigh from inside the bathroom, followed by a muffled bang.

[mysticbeaver]

I wrote another short silly KevRolf fic cause inspiration struck me again after so long... They are 20-something here. Warning: couple of swears... (courtesy of Kevin) and yummy food (courtesy of Rolf)

You know what they call "cheese" in Paris?

Sunlight bathed Rolf's room.

It must have been the third time he woke up and dozed off again - typical of Saturday mornings. This time he finally felt like opening his squinty eyes, running his hands through his thick hair before stretching his limbs.

He only managed to relish the satisfying sensation for a brief moment, when he suddenly felt his left calf tense up, hard, of its own accord. The pain startled him - a cramp. Moaning and groaning, he curled his leg up and started massaging the offended muscle, trying to make the contraction loosen up.

“Good awakening, Kevin…”

Rolf appeared at the doorway, leaning against it with a hand on his hip - the "master of the house" (as he liked to call himself) was already dressed for the day, wearing one of his cozy sweaters - his somewhat disheveled look, adorned by an unkempt stubble and an attractive smile was almost enough of a picture to distract Kevin from his ailment.

The farmer’s serene expression was perturbed by the sight of his boyfriend writhing on the bed.

“What is wrong?” He quickly approached the bedside.

“Ugh, nothing… cramp… I just stretched my leg and it went all taught, like… what the fuck. Second time it happens.”

Rolf instinctively went to touch his calf, which made him jolt.

“Shall Rolf give a helping rub?”

“Nah, I’m fine. And don’t touch me there like that, that’s gay.”

Rolf’s quizzed expression made him laugh briefly before wincing again, making Rolf himself snicker under his breath.

“Sportsman-Kevin is down on the field again…”

Kevin snorted. “Fuck off.”

“Oh! Is that how you show respect to Rolf?" He feigned outrage, crossing his arms with a scowl. "Well then, no surprise for you!”

“What surprise?

“Ha-ha! Now you ask Rolf, yes?”

“Hmph, what time is it, anyway,” he mumbled groggily, reaching for his phone on the nightstand.

“It is time for the fast-breaking… and you have woken just at the right time.”

He gave a soft pat on the other’s chest.

“Do not leave the bed, dumpling!” He scurried away and out of the room.

Dumpling… that’s a new one.

Kevin was left to wonder what he was up to this time, as he rubbed and squeezed his calf to soothe the last traces of discomfort. The vague aroma of coffee in the air made him hungry for breakfast, but just as he was about to disregard Rolf’s order and leave the bed, the farmer walked back into the room, carefully holding a bed tray.

“There you go, Kevin!”

“Huh? Is that… what I think…”

Rolf gently set the tray down right in front of him. He pulled back with a toothy smile, hands clasped together with glee.

The first two things that caught Kevin’s attention were a generous cup of foamy cappuccino with a sprinkling of cocoa on top, but most importantly, a plump-looking, mouth-watering croissant.

He guessed it was a leftover from those Rolf’s mother had apparently baked for him the day before - Rolf had told him about it and he'd completely forgotten. A couple of small tea cookies and a glass of orange juice completed the lovely picture in front of him.

He was flabbergasted - he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had bed breakfast, if ever. The contents were certainly a fancy upgrade from what he was used to - a mug of straight coffee-and-milk accompanied by the usual generic cookies dunked into it.

“Dude… you didn’t have to…”

“Oh, do not yap nonsense like Rolf’s papa when he lifts the elbow! This is for your favor of getting Rolf the part for the tractor, yes?”

“But… you already payed dinner yester-”

“Does Kevin want this or not?”

“Oh, hell yea-uh?"

His eager hands were blocked from the tray’s contents.

“Ah-ah-ah…” Rolf scolded him playfully.

“No little thank-you kiss for Rolf?” He leaned in with his head turned away, pointing at his cheek.

“Alright…” Kevin gave him a quick peck. As his boyfriend retreated satisfied, he picked up the croissant and was pleasantly surprised upon feeling the heat in his fingers.

“Aw, dude, you warmed it up too! That’s sooo choice…”

He did not hesitate to take a bite - the rustling and crumbling of the puff pastry was the most satisfying sensation in the world at that moment. He hummed in approval.

“Just like having breakfast out in a bakery or something.”

“Mama’s horns of cream are always delicious, even the next day!” Rolf declared proudly.

“Cream horns?” He licked his lips and wiped his mouth. “Nah, that’s another thing, this…” He waved the confectionery in his hand. “...is a croissant.”

Rolf smiled at him smugly. “Of course, smart-pants-Kevin…you think Rolf does not know how they say in France? Le croissant… eh… est très bon!”

Kevin stared at him dumbfounded. “Dude, you know french?”

He nodded. “The cousin of Rolf’s cousin dwells in La France.” He sat on the bed and his eyes drifted off in recollection.

“Rolf was taught a little of the tongue when uncle Harvik visited in the Old Country.”

“Right…”

Kevin put down his food and showed a suggestive smirk.

“Why don’tcha show me some of this french tongue… oui? Omelette du fromage…” He chuckled.

“Mmm…” Rolf leaned closer with half-lidded eyes.

“You pronounce français very well, Kevin… romantique.”

He brushed a hand softly under his boyfriend’s chin, his own face now only inches away.

“Can you repeat for Rolf… s’il vous plâit?”

His smooth caress was already making Kevin melt, a goofy grin plastered on his face.

“Oui…” he purred, closing his eyes. “Omelette… du fromaaage…”

His puckering lips were abruptly stopped by a finger.

“Ho-ho-ho, silly baguette-et-fromage Kevin… this is not the time for mouth-meetings!”

“Wuh…”

“Do not let the breakfast spoil like …” He tugged a confused Kevin’s nose teasingly before pulling away.

“Enjoy your croissant.” He stood up and left the room with a soft laugh.

Kevin was left alone with his tray. He let out a grunt of annoyance. Whatever… I’ll show him later…

Glancing at the nightstand, he grabbed his vintage dirtbike magazine and started browsing through it as he had a sip from his wonderful cappuccino… it was already making him forget about that awful tease. He took another bite of the pastry and hummed again, this time in sheer bliss as the cream filling met his taste buds. Kisses could wait.

[artsybridgerton]

Hello there! I read that you wanted to write a Benedict Bridgerton x reader so I want to request that for you :)

you can write anything but I wanted that they meet for pure case and that reader is a really cheerful, happy and clumsy person lol

idk if regency/modern, feel comfortable to choose!

thank you in anticipation and have a good day/night! 💟

Hi @shoyooss! Thank you for the request! So I tried my best but i think it came out a little cringy.

Could be the fact that i couldn't think of how a cheerful/happy person is, probably cause i've never been that myself but hey, i gave it a shot :D

I hope you like it even a little and i apologize for everything you will read on my blog :D

Thanks for trusting me tho <3

with love, Essy<3

p.s. the pigeon part is actually based on true events in yours truly's life :)

_______________________________________________

warnings: my mediocre writing lol

modern au

Pieces of paper

You’ve been looking for a job with no luck but recently you started working in this bar as a waitress, with no experience at all. You may or may not have lied on your resumé with having years of experience.

It was a busy morning and you were told to stay outside of the bar to welcome in the customers other than that you were also in charge of keeping the pigeons away from the people eating and the plates that were yet to be taken inside to be washed.

As you were fighting off the pigeons your coworker came to you.  “Hey, when you’re done with that, help this man with his order ok?”

“No problem!” You smiled at her as you quickly ran inside leaving the customers fend for themselves. “At Least they didn’t poop on me!” you thought to yourself.

Taking a tray you approached the counter to bring the order to the customer: a cappuccino, a glass of orange juice and avocado on toast. As you turned around to accidentally bump into a tall man spilling the customer’s coffee on him.

He yelped slightly. “Wow, that coffee was hot!”

“I am so sorry sir, I didn’t see you!” You reach for your rag wanting to try and clean the stain on his shirt but by doing so you accidentally let go of the tray you were holding with both hands making everything fall on his feet. 

“Great heavens!” you immediately crouch to clean up. “Sir I will personally hand wash your clothes if you let me, I'm deeply sorry!”

“It’s fine miss” He smiled and also crouched to help you clean. 

“Well you could always say it’s a fashion statement!” You say trying to make the situation less awkward. At that he chuckled a little. “Really sir, let me at least offer you some coffee, i mean it! The whole breakfast perhaps? Lunch? Is dinner more of your liking?”

“Well that escalated quickly, I might just assume you want to ask me out” He joked and slightly moved closer to you while you were looking down putting the food back on the tray.

“Wou-would you want me to?” Panic-flirting was an ability you developed recently but now you directly head-butted him when you looked back up to him so he lost his balance.

“Sir! I didn’t mean to do that! Would you like an ambulance?” You panicked.

You help him back up. Only now you got a good look at his face and thought he was actually very handsome.

He let out a laugh in confusion. “Miss, really everything is fine, don’t worry” He cleaned himself off. 

“I’m y/n, this is my number, i will gladly pay whatever damage i caused to your person sir” you say as you write down your contact on a piece of paper. 

“Benedict” He offered you his hand to shake. 

You shaked his hand, keeping eye contact, almost mesmerized by his eyes.

“Miss, I'm still waiting for my order!” The other customer yelled.

“Oh shit right!” You were woken up from the trance and went back to the counter to retake the order.

In the meantime, Benedict ordered a cup of tea and sat down to enjoy it.

Some time has passed and you were now cleaning up the tables.

As you passed near Benedict’s table he stopped you and handed you a piece of paper. “My number.” You look at him confused. “You still have to offer me a meal, dinner? was it?” He winked. 

You couldn’t help but smile at him as you accepted the paper.

[abiiors]

meet cute 🧡 // ross macdonald x reader

promptober '23 - day 1

a/n: full disclosure, i wrote this for alex a long time ago based on a story he told. anyway i'm so excited to do this eeeee!!! cw: bad flirting and even worse puns i am so sorry wc: 800

“next please,” the cashier announces as you walk up to the till. 

this has been a lazy morning for you as you stand there, bundled up against the chilly october air. your plan for today is a simple one; wake up at a semi-respectable time, get breakfast at your favourite bakery, wander around, and maybe go to the new bookstore that’s just opened up. just take it slow for the day. it isn’t often you get to have these slow days to yourself anyway. 

“good morning,” you smile at the cashier, handing her the breakfast sandwich and asking for a cappuccino. 

“that would be £5.49, is there anything else i can get you?” she asks.

you look around to see if anything else catches your eye and right there, behind the till are the most adorable cookies you have ever seen! little pumpkins and zombies and witches, you name it. 

you point at them, “can i also have one of those ghost cookies, please?” 

the voice that comes out, however, is not yours. instead, it’s deep, masculine and rather attractive. you turn to look at the man only to find him already looking at you. just as you suspected—he is gorgeous and has a charming dimple-y smile that is now directed at you. the leather jacket he’s wearing is the perfect kind of vintage that fits him just right. his hair is tied up in a bun, a few strands escaping. it dawns on you then, you have indeed also asked for the cookies—perfectly in sync with this handsome stranger. 

he turns back to the cashier in front of him, “wow, you could say they’re selling like ghost cookies,” he finishes with a shit-eating grin, clearly proud of himself.

the poor cashier just looks so confused that you can’t help the laugh that escapes you. it’s such a bad joke really, the fact that you laughed at it says more about you than him. but you can’t help yourself. 

“glad to see someone appreciates my humour,” he smiles widely at you again. 

“well…i wouldn’t exactly call it humour,” you tease back as you finish paying for your food. 

“well, got you to laugh though, didn’t i?” he flirts back. 

just as you are about to leave the store, he hurries after you. on the one hand, you could forget about this cheeky little interaction with a hot stranger or you could see where it goes. before you have the chance to overthink that, he stops in front of you. 

“i’m ross,” he smiles, a hint of shyness quite clear on his face even when he properly towers over you.

you bite your lip to keep your grin under control, coyly letting your name slip. if it were even possible, ross smiles wider.

“and just so you know,” you continue, “i was laughing at the poor cashier’s face.” your tone is light enough that he knows you’re teasing. you laugh when he responds with an over-exaggerated sad face. 

you both step outside the bakery, the chilly october air nipping at your cheeks. the warmth of the cappuccino cup in your hand is a comforting contrast. ross looks around, a little pink from the cold air, a little hesitant just like you are. 

“so i guess i—”

“i was just planning on wandering around town by myself,” you look away, a bit mortified when you realise you’ve interrupted him. he was probably about to say goodbye and go on his own way. a little voice in your head groans at you, reminding you that not everyone is as free as you are today. 

“oh my god i’m so sorry. i’m sure you’re busy, sorry, i just assumed. forget i—”

“not a ghost of a chance,” ross interrupts your rambling, face splitting into a shit-eating grin one again—clearly proud of his terrible pun. 

it’s so bad, you should be groaning at it and rolling your eyes. instead, it makes you giggle. 

“i would love to join you if that’s what you were offering,” he smiles again. it reaches his warm, hazel eyes, making them crinkle at the sides. 

“i don’t know what your plans were… but, yeah, i wanted to check out this bookstore?” 

“a reader,” he nods appreciatively, walking alongside you and sipping from his coffee. you turn to study his profile. he’s tall and handsome and exactly like someone from a romance movie. seems impossible that a day that started out as a casual saturday is turning out into something purely out of fiction. 

“i try,” you hum, taking a bite of your ghost cookies. they’re delicious—sweet and crumbly and buttery. ross laughs when you involuntarily let out a moan. 

“sounds like i made a great decision,” he winks, digging inside the paper bag to fish out his own—a little jack-o-lantern. 

“sounds like you did,” you respond, happily taking a second bite. 

lemme know what you think <33

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[bagopucks]

N. Hischier - Dearest Nico,

✄————————————

Nico Hischier x Fem!reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warning(s): Minor talks of blood and injury, family disagreements, and general sadness.

I wonder what keeps Nico up at night when he lays down and his brain decides to go on a rampage. Is it the spicy photos he took in his hockey pads? Or the mysterious trench coat photos?

I wrote it vague when it comes to the time this all took place. Technically, Nico joined up during Covid, but I know some prefer their media to not reflect reality. So it’s up for interpretation.

—————————————

I adjusted my apron and let out a quiet sigh. Another day in a tiny cafe. Nothing I loved, and nothing I hated.

“No rush, but we’ve got a crowd out there.” My boss came flying through the back, a tension in her tone that I’d known for as long as I had been working there. I mumbled an, ‘okay’ before I stepped through the double doors and out of the kitchen. Sure enough, there was a crowd. The breakfast rushes were always the biggest, and likewise they moved the fastest.

I retrieved the closest notebook and pen from behind the counter before I started sifting my way through people, taking drink orders and food orders. I hated this job, but it did pay the bills and college loans. Which ultimately, was what I needed.

As I made it to the back of the tiny cafe, I found my way over to a man dressed in military greens, my brow furrowed. I met a few throughout my time working in the cafe. Some kinder than others, but I’d had to admit, I had never seen one as- well.. as handsome as he was.

“Good morning, sir. What can I get for you?”

“Can I just have a Cappuccino?” His voice was soft, and his eyes seemed to wander to the floor each time after they met mine. He was shy. Or perhaps distracted.

“Of course you can.” When his eyes met mine again, I offered a smile. The man pursed his lips, his brow furrowed as well. He opened his mouth to speak, which inevitably stopped me from turning away. I gave him an encouraging nod.

“This is.. it’s an odd question but.. are you busy?”

“Do I look busy?” I teased sarcastically. The man’s eyes drifted to the rest of the cafe.

“I guess so. I’m sorry.” He looked defeated, and sad

“I get off in an hour.” My words caught him off guard, and I offered another smile. “Think you can stick around that long?”

“Absolutely.”

I winked at the man before I slipped away.

When I returned at the end of my shift, he was still there, finishing off what I had to assume was now a cold coffee.

“Come on. I’ve got a place nearby we can hang out.” I took the cup and threw it in the nearest trash can before I led the man out of the cafe. I slipped the bright blue bow out of my hair, and ran my fingers through the long strands to smooth it out.

“So,” I began as I walked over to my car. “Got a name?” The gravel crunched in the lot beneath my feet as I walked to my car. I opened my passenger side door and tossed the bow in before shutting it.

“Nico.” I looked back at him, watched as he rolled up the sleeves of his camo coveralls. He was incredibly attractive.

I was quick to inform him of my own name, before I nodded my head toward the woods just across the empty plot of land the restaurant was on. It was a place just outside of town, its location chosen by the owners to avoid large groups of tourists.

“You’re taking me out there?”

“I’m not gonna kill you, I promise.” I assured teasingly, hopeful to ease the concerns of the military man.

The grass was high in the field, but Nico seemed unbothered. He was wearing long pants anyway. And I made due with my jeans.

We walked in silence, both having questions neither really knew how to ask. We were strangers. I was only offering what I assumed to be a bit of company in a time of need.

Still, I was the first to break the silence when we reached the woods.

“So Nico,” I turned around to walk backwards in front of him. His eyes lifted from the ground at the sound of my voice. Being blessed with the sight of his pretty eyes made me smile.

“First year?”

His head tilted.

“In the service? It’s easy to tell.” Nico’s head quickly nodded in understanding as a nervous chuckle fell from his lips. “Can’t really hide it in that outfit. Either you’re a soldier or you have horrible fashion sense.” I teased, though my own giggle silenced when my heel caught on a tree root. I choked on a gasp, my arms flew forward while the rest of my body fell back.

Nico was quick to reach out and catch me, my hero, despite the slight pain in my arm when he pulled me back up. I gained my footing before I could hit his chest, but we were close anyway. He held onto my wrist, his other hand finding it’s way to my back to make sure I was steady. Then he flashed me a smile. His dimples were adorable.

“Are you okay?” He breathed out.

“You’re just gonna be a hit with the ladies, aren’t you?” I masked my embarrassment with humor as I pulled away. Nico flushed and pursed his lips, looking as though he was trying to find the words to protest before I turned around to continue walking.

“I don’t know about that.” Nico seemed both shy and humble. Or maybe he really didn’t see his own beauty.

“Come on now. You’ll be officer pretty boy in no time. Bet you’ll have superiors wishing they weren’t your superiors.” I turned my head to look at him, flashing a smirk and side stepping to bump my shoulder against his arm.

“I hope not,” Nico laughed quietly. “I just want to get in and out.. just get it over with.” I raised a brow.

“Not really a military man?”

“Not at all.” His thick brows rose as he looked down at the ground. Nico looked lost. He sounded like he grew up here, but he didn’t seem like he belonged in that uniform. And truth be told, I couldn’t see him in combat either.

We continued to walk in silence, our arms occasionally brushing and our eyes habitually finding the other’s face. I was enjoying the nature around us. Nico still seemed lost in his own world.

“My mom isn’t very happy about it.”

I slowly looked back at the man.

“She didn’t want me to do this.. made her nervous. But I can’t really come back here if I don’t. It’s required.”

That I knew. I might have been a college exchange student, but I spoke with enough locals and made enough friends to know the laws and customs and expectations of the Swiss people.

“I’m sure she’ll feel better once you’re back.”

“I hope so.. she’s just- she keeps saying she doesn’t want to hear about it. And I don’t really know what I’m supposed to write to her about.. if I can’t talk about boot camp and- well.. everything I’m going through.”

My eyes searched his fallen expression. Nothing hurt worse than an unsupportive parent.

“I don’t know,” Nico was swift to continue when I didn’t answer. “It’s probably nothing to worry about.”

“It’s worth worrying if you want to write to somebody. Being away from your family and friends during a time like that can be real freaky. Especially when you don’t have fast contact like phones and electronics.”

Nico looked down at me, his expression softening with relief. He was understood. That’s all he seemed to have wanted. I wondered how long he’d been waiting for his mother to understand him.

“I know it’s not my place but.. you can always write to me. I have a pretty easy address.” I offered sheepishly. Nico pursed his lips. He considered the idea before shrugging in response. I understood if he wasn’t certain, though that didn’t change the way my heart filled with disappointment when he did shrug.

“I’ll think about it.” I nodded at his words.

“I don’t need an answer for sure until you leave.”

“In four hours?” My brow rose at the new time limit we were put on.

“You didn’t tell me you were leaving so soon.”

“You didn’t ask.” Nico smirked, “we were just having normal conversation.” I glared at him and gave him a gentle shove, which I discovered moved my own body more than it did his. Quiet laughter fell from both our lips.

“Whatever,” I grumbled with lighthearted anger. “We’re almost there anyway.”

“Where?”

I spared Nico a brief glance.

“You’ll see.”

——————

“So? What do you think?”

All of his inner turmoil seemed to completely wash away at the sight. When we reached the opposite end of the woods, the trees opened up at the edges of the banks of a beautiful lake. The sun reflected in the water, and captivated the way the surface rippled in the breeze. I spared a hopeful look up at Nico.

“It’s pretty.” He answered quietly. I reached for his hand, and guided him down toward the lake, before sitting in the grass, just at the edge of the beautiful area. Nico looked down at me before he sat by my side.

“How many hours do we have left?”

“Three.”

I nodded and ran my hands through my hair, slowly kicking my flats off and rolling up my jeans. Nico watched me with curiosity in his eyes before I dipped my feet in the water. It was chilly, but perfect considering the long walk we just took.

“Three hours.. to do anything we want.” I muttered as I leaned back to lay down in the grass. “Why’d you leave home so early?”

“Just to.. I guess get away.”

“Felt trapped?”

“I’m really nervous.”

I hummed softly at his words, then slowly reached out to place a hand on his knee.

“I think you’ll be fine. It’s probably not as scary as you think.” I spoke reassuringly, but truthfully I had no clue.

“My dad said it wasn’t that bad.. but my dad was built a little better than I was.”

I looked up at him, and with the insinuation of the conversation, I felt it appropriate to look him over. His uniform wasn’t exactly helpful in accentuating his physique, but after the walk we just took, I figured he would fair better than he let on.

“You’ll be okay.” I repeated again, in a softer tone. I slipped my hand to his thigh and gave a gentle squeeze.

“A little cooling off might help.” I added after a moment of silence.

“You want to go swimming?”

“Absolutely, I do.” I smirked, slowly sitting up.

“I can’t get this wet.”

“What do you have on under it?”

“Stuff I also can’t get wet.”

“We can just hang it up to dry, yeah?”

“On what?” Nico asked through amused giggles.

“A tree branch? We have a shit-load to choose from.” I wildly gestured to the forest behind us. Nico looked back toward the trees in contemplation.

“Last chance to feel a bit of freedom before you go,” I spoke as if I was waving a piece of candy in front of his face. Nico bit his bottom lip.

“Live a little.” His eyes met mine. “Nothing to hide here. We might never even see each other again.”

“We shouldn’t.”

“Nobody’s watching you.” I couldn’t understand his paranoia. It’s not like he had cameras on him 24/7. What was the issue?

“Fine.. fine.” He sighed, quickly standing up. “But only ‘cause you talked me into it.”

“I’ll take credit for that,” I shrugged, unbothered by his need to play the blame game.

“Turn around.” His words made me laugh softly, but I stood and turned away nonetheless.

“You too, pretty boy.”

“Okay.. I’m turned.”

I broke into a fit of chuckles at his terminology. I pulled my polo and jeans off quickly before I slipped down the bank and into the lake. As trustworthy as Nico seemed, I was not skinny dipping with a stranger.

I remained facing away until I was startled by a loud splash. I was swift to get myself turned in his direction, just in time to see Nico surface with soaked hair and a bright smile on his lips.

“You little shit!” I laughed out, splashing water in his direction. “You scared me!” He turned his head away to avoid all the water before reaching up to push his hair back and wipe the droplets from his eyes.

“Sorry.” It was no genuine apology. Not with those little chuckles I heard.

“This is what I get for trying to help somebody.” I muttered. His brow shot up, and I wondered if I’d hit a nerve.

“You’re really gonna be like that?”

“Maybe I am.” I would have crossed my arms over my chest if I wasn’t using them to stay afloat.

Nico’s body lunged forward at me, and I shrieked before turning my back to him and trying to swim away. I wasn’t a professional swimmer, and I knew he’d catch me. Soon enough, I felt a hand quickly wrap around my ankle.

“No!” I shouted through my own strained laughter. Nico pulled me back to him, twisting me around to face him as I tried to push against his chest.

“Now you’re not talking such a big game, huh?” Nico taunted. That wide smile still on his lips.

“Nico, let me go.” Despite my pleas to be released, I truly didn’t mind being in his arms.

“Maybe I tricked you out here so I could kill you.” He was flipping the script on me, and for a moment real fear struck my chest. My expression dropped. My laughter ceased. The serious look on his face remained.

Then I saw his lips twitch, and a laugh quickly broke from his lips. It took me a moment to realize he was joking. Then I grew a bit frustrated with myself that I’d let that fly right over my head.

“You suck!” I tried to slap his chest, finally wiggling out of his loose grip as he was still recovering from his own laughter.

I played into theatrics when I turned my head away from him, and tilted my nose up at his antics.

“Oh come on! It was funny!” Nico reached out to nudge my arm with his fingers. “Come on!”

When I side eyed him, I found myself shocked at his beauty. Caught in that perfect ray of sun. It illuminated half of his face while casting a shadow on the other half. One brown eye looking like a pool of honey while the other looked like a dark chocolate. And his hair- the way his bangs fell forward over his forehead, and hung just beside his eyes. Framed his beautiful face. And his lips-

“You can’t stay mad at me forever.” Nico tried.

“I can if I never hear from you again.” I countered. He narrowed his eyes at me.

“Then I suppose I’ll just have to write to you until you do forgive me.”

My heart began to beat twice as fast.

——————

I saw Nico off that day with a kind wave and a gift made of my bow. He clipped it onto his duffel and promised he’d keep it somewhere by his bed. He left me with one of his bracelets. A bit too big for my wrist, but I found it was easier to slip around my ankle. So that’s how I wore it.

His first letter was one informing me of the way the mailing system works. He said:

I can send up to two a week, but I’d probably only have time to write one. I’m thinking Fridays.

I had no issue with doing Fridays. I’d be able to hear about his whole week, and then I could write back that night or on Saturday when I had time. And mail it to him.

Fridays became my favorite days. If I wasn’t working, and if I didn’t have classes, I was often waiting by my mailbox to receive the long awaited letter.

The second, but first official update of his time there, was the first time I realized how nervous I was for Nico.

Hello,

Can we establish a good greeting? I hate Hello, but I didn’t know what else to put down. I thought ‘sup.’ My Buddy would definitely suggest ‘sup,’ but that seemed too informal. And I don’t even say that, to be honest. We need a good greeting. We can try some out.

How have you been? How’s work? This week hasn’t been too hard. A lot of walking and running.. and push-ups. I realized this week that I need to include more upper body in my workouts at home. I always did a lot of cardio. They let me keep my hair, too. I had to get it trimmed a bit, but they said as long as I can see, it can stay. I am happy about that.

And please don’t be mad, but there’s a bit of dirt on your bow. I came back into the barracks on Wednesday and it was on the floor with some dirt in the corner I can’t get out of it. Somebody must have bumped it or hit it on accident. I’ll keep trying to clean it though.

It was short but sweet, which seemed pretty on-brand for Nico. Shy even in his letters. I wrote him back telling him of my own week. How I got a raise and met a group of local kids my age that were pretty nice. Then I asked if he had told his sister about me, because there had been a girl in the cafe asking to see me on a day I didn’t work, and I was only curious. I told him the dirt on my bow was okay, and that I’d gotten a new one anyway to continue wearing.

The next letter that came in was a bit lengthier.

Hey,

I don’t like this one either. I’m not good at this. Maybe we should skip the greeting line. We can just get right into our weeks? If you want to keep it we can, but I really don’t like it. It makes me uncomfortable. Hey is for texts.. like if I said hey, and waited for you to respond. But now I’m just saying hey, and going on.. like you don’t even get a chance to text back. I’m not making much sense.

Anyways, I wear gloves for work back in the U.S. I never really thought my hands were smooth until this week. We had all these obstacle courses to go through. It really messed them up. I have marks and bruises everywhere. And I grabbed barbed wire on accident. I got sixteen stitches in the palm of my hand. It still hurts.

I accidentally got blood on your bow. I’m really sorry. I just wanted to hold it. And now it’s got red spots from my hand. I tried to wash it, but it’s still faint in the fabric.

I think the people I’m here with really like me though. We don’t talk a lot but they’re always making jokes and super kind. If I’m honest, I do miss you. I miss my friends back at home too.

And yes, I did tell my sister about you. I just let her know who you were, and that I was writing to you too. She asked if I planned on writing to my mother, but I told her I wasn’t sure if she wanted me to. She hasn’t written to me yet. I told my sister I can’t write three letters in a week. I said I’d just write to her and my mom in the same letter. I don’t want to stop having these little back and forth’s with you.

I read this one when I got home from work in the midnight hours, underneath the warm glow of a tall lamp I had in the kitchen, with a bowl of warm oatmeal on the table. I felt bad for his hand, but I was glad to know he was making friends.

When I sat down the next day to write my own letter, I promised him that I was not particular about the greetings. I wished him luck on his recovery with his hand, and I told him I hoped it wouldn’t interfere too much with his push-ups. I assured him once again that my bow would be fine. That he was only giving it a few memories. I promised I had enough Tide sticks to hopefully get the stains out if it mattered that much. And if not he could keep it or throw it away.

I told Nico I was happy he was making friends. That they’d be shoulders to lean on when he needed it. And I especially assured him that I wouldn’t be too hurt if he dropped me to write to his mother. The last thing I wanted was to be the cause of tension amongst his family. I also told him I would be happy to meet his sister if he informed her of the days I worked and the hours, and I made sure to provide a well written example of my schedule.

What about Heyo,

Is Heyo weird? It still seems weird. I know you said you didn’t care, but now I’m hung up on it. Maybe I’ll give it a break next time.

I hope it’s not bothersome if I complain a little. I don’t want to rain on your sunny day. It’s been a really bad week though. It was hot as hell on Monday, and I got sick in the evening because of dehydration. It was my fault, but it was pretty embarrassing. On Tuesday I lost your bow. I don’t know where it went. I looked everywhere. Tore my bed apart, looked through the small dresser by my stuff. I even looked in my bags and under the bed. Nobody else knows where it went either.

I didn’t realize how much I liked to rely on it until it was gone. Now I just lay down and close my eyes. If I think real hard, I can see you in the lake. I can feel you. Sometimes it makes me tear up. I really miss you. I didn’t expect to you this much. I miss my mom too. I want to hear from her. Sometimes I feel like I just need her. Can I call you next week? Friday around five?

I felt oh so excited to see his offer to call. It seemed like he really needed it, and I missed the sound of his voice. His accent and his Swiss-English as I liked to call it. The way his ‘th’s’ sounded like F’s, and the drawl in his A’s.

I told Nico to stay strong. That I’d love to talk to him more about it if he had time when we called. But if he didn’t, then I promised he would be okay. That it was only boot camp, nothing permanent. He’d be able to see his family and his friends soon. And go back to his normal life and normal job. I also suggested he call his mother. That it may be easier for him to talk to her that way as opposed to writing letters. He seemed so close with his family, that I couldn’t imagine this tiff with his mother lasting as long as it did, but I could only assume her pulling away was a way to protect herself from the thought of her child going through something he never had before. Knowing he’d face new challenges and sustain new injuries. I wondered if she knew about his stitches.

I told Nico for what felt like the thousandth time, that the bow was not the end of the world. I told him I thought about him too, and that I hoped he would spare a minute to see me before he went wherever he did go after his time at boot camp ended.

Then I gave him my phone number and swore I’d be waiting by the phone when he called.

And I was. When the ring ran through my little Swiss home, I snatched my phone off the table and immediately picked up.

“Hey!” I was too excited to even wait for Nico to ask who I was.

“Oh thank god.” I heard relief in his tone. I raised a brow. “You’re the third person I called. Your number got smudged.. musta rained when it was delivered.”

His voice was such a relief to hear. I smiled at knowing he didn’t give up at the sight of the messy phone number. That he’d put in effort to contact me.

“It’s so great to hear from you Nico. How’d your week go?”

“I wanna hear about yours first.”

This was a change, but I welcomed it nonetheless.

“I met your sister the other day.” I began. “She’s really sweet. She said she was happy to know you were talking to someone else. She said you talk about me sometimes when you write to her too.”

“She did?” Nico sounded surprised.

“She says good things about you, I promise. She also told me you called your mom?”

“Yeah.. I did. I think we figured things out. She felt pretty bad when she heard I got hurt.”

“The hand thing?”

“No.” Nico’s tone shifted.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. It’s not really important.”

“I guess.. but I hope you’re okay.”

“Nothing I haven’t been through before.”

I raised a brow. What did that even mean?

“Keep telling me about your week.”

“Well… I went out to eat the other night at this cheese and wine place. I don’t know if you’re much into either of those things but it was quiet and warm. Felt like someplace you’d like to be.”

“I don’t mind a bottle of wine here and there.”

“Maybe I’ll take you out to celebrate when you get back.” I suggested cautiously.

“I wouldn’t mind that.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Just promise you’ll let me pay for the wine.”

“We’ll see.”

He coaxed me into discussing my week until I was quite literally out of things to say, then Nico told me he had to hang up because his free time was up. I felt bad for taking up so much time, but I also worried that he had asked me to do it. I hoped he wasn’t shutting down on me. Or hiding things.

The last thing he told me was, “I think I’m really starting to like you.” Before he hung up.

When the next Friday came, and I received no letter, I decided to continue to write one to him. I had new information from his sister, and I wanted to bring it up.

Dearest Nico,

Nina said you got into a fight? Nico is that the injury you were telling me about? That didn’t matter? You said you’d been in them before. How frequent is that? Where are you getting into fights? That’s not good, hun.

The pen slipped… I didn’t mean to call him ‘hun.’

I haven’t heard from you. Are you okay? I’m worried. I’m really sorry for taking up our time on the phone. If you want to call again we can. I’ll listen to you talk the whole time. I won’t even say a word. Please get back to me when you can. I worry about you.

I had to wait a whole extra week to hear from him.

I’m gonna give up on the whole greeting thing. But yeah, the injury was that. It was no big deal. Just some guys trying to rile me up. I happens. I should have kept my cool, it’s probably my fault anyway. I’m used to having a little more protection where I work. I promise it’s not a frequent occurrence, and it’s nothing to worry about. I just had a busted lip for a couple days. And I had to get a piece of my hand re-stitched from falling in gravel. I’m okay though, hun.

I got your bow back though. So I guess the fight was kinda worth it. A piece of the fabric’s ripped, from said gravel. I know you said you don’t mind, but I really hate to know I keep ruining something that’s yours. I’ll try to learn how to make you a new one when I get home. After we go out for wine and cheese. We should do desserts too. Forget dinner. It’s not important. I haven’t had sweets in forever.

I’m sorry I missed last week, I hope you can forgive me. I promise I won’t miss another week. And I’d love to call again, but I kinda had that privilege revoked after punching a guy in the face. So.. rain check on the phone call?

Oh.. and I like the way you call me dearest.

I found some comfort in knowing he was okay, but not in knowing people were giving him a hard time. What had Nico ever done to anybody? Unless he had an alter ego I didn’t know of, then there was no reason for anybody to be pushing him around. It seemed like whatever job he had was pretty rough and tumble too. So what could possibly make someone think they could harass and hurt him? And take his things? My worries melted into the subtle flutter of butterflies in my stomach at the small section of Nico’s writing near the bottom of the page. He liked the new greeting. So I decided to keep it.

Our letters continued, and Nico remained true to his word in not missing another week. He stopped talking about the other people there with him, and I found it easy to stop asking. It didn’t seem like he had as many friends as he first thought anyway, and Nico told me he started clipping my bow to the bottom hem of the shirt he wore underneath his coveralls. He said it was safer there. Our conversations began to flow much easier, and I even attached occasional photos to my letters. Some of myself with good food, backgrounds, landscapes included. I loved his little comments.

“You look beautiful there.”

“My mother makes Tarts like that.. did you get that from Nina?”

“I miss the scenery.”

“I’ll have to show you my favorite spots.”

“I can’t tell if my heart is beating fast at the sight of that sunset, or the way it lights up your eyes.”

Our greetings shifted from awkward, ‘hey’s’ to teasing, ‘hello Hun’s.’ Something we both found easier to write and make jokes about. Nico called the first week he could, and we alternated between writing letters and making phone calls as the weeks went by. Our conversations ebbed and flowed. There were weeks when he wrote his heart out, said how much he missed me repeatedly, and said he was miserable. Then there were other weeks when he told me he was finding a good routine. That he was doing well, and that he thought he’d be fine. The closer he got to the end of his time at bootcamp, the more we spoke about our upcoming night together. And the closer we got to calling it a date, until we finally agreed that’s what it would be.

Our last call before Nico came home, I was telling him about his poor bracelet. That had finally been worn through too much and the string had snapped. I told him how embarrassed I had been kneeling on the cafe floor trying to pick up all the pieces. Nico laughed and told me he knew the feeling. I asked why he wore them if they broke so easily, and he informed me it was just a style choice. And through time it became a superstition thing.

He wasn’t a crystal guy, but he did know the minerals in every bracelet, and he said he liked to buy the ones that brought good luck or good fortune, because he felt it helped his ‘game.’ I didn’t really get that. I assumed it had to do with girls.

Nico and I also got into the conversation of his homecoming on that call. He told me he planned on seeing his family first, then he’d call from his own phone and talk to me about our little wine and cheese date.

It ended up being the second day that he was home, when he called early in the morning to see if I was free that evening. He told me to dress up a bit. Something nice, but not too nice.

When he showed up on my front doorstep, looking just the same as months ago, dressed up fancy and hair slicked back. I was on top of the world. He held my bow in his hands, but I ran into his arms nonetheless.

Nico hugged over the shoulders. I didn’t know why, but he was the baby sibling. I assumed it was something he probably did from a young age. And I had no issue wrapping my arms around his torso while he tried not to squeeze the life out of my upper body. There were quiet giggles shared, huge smiles, whispers of ‘I missed you’s’ and, I even voiced my disbelief on him being in front of me again.

When I pulled away, Nico finally presented me with my old blue bow. It looked rough. It looked like what I could only assume Nico looked like on his hardest days.

“I tried really hard to get the stains out. I even sat over the sink in the laundry room one night, and scrubbed with as much detergent as I could. It’s not perfect.”

I shrugged my shoulders as if to say, ‘oh well.’

“Better compared to the state your bracelet is in.” I teased. “I have all the pieces in a jar somewhere, I just don’t know how to fix it.”

“I don’t need it back,” Nico tried.

“Yeah, but I’d like to keep wearing it.”

“Well.. then I’d like to keep your bow if you wouldn’t mind.”

I smiled from ear to ear. “I don’t mind at all.”

I reached out to gently pry the bow from Nico’s hands. I tucked it into his front pocket before my focus shifted back to his hands, turning them over to see his palms. My thumb ran over the line of healing marks from what I assumed was the barbed wire. And that gravel. When I turned them back over, his knuckles still had healing bruises, and small cuts barely noticeable. I looked back up at Nico, and examined his lip. I released his less injured hand to bring my own to his cheek. I brushed my thumb across his bottom lip. Across the cheek I knew had previously held a bruise from another incident he told me of. All the while, his eyes flickered and looked over every part of my face, admiring, searching for some kind of emotion he wasn’t certain if I was giving off or not.

“Happy to be home?” I asked as his head tilted into my hand.

“Home, sure. I’m happy.” Nico shrugged and agreed. “With you? I’m- well.. I’m feeling words I can’t even describe.”

My gaze lifted from his cheek to his eyes.

“It’s good to have you back, hun.” I whispered, affection in my tone as opposed to humor.

“It’s good to be back, dearest.” Nico responded, moving his hands to gently grasp my hips. I knew wherever we went from here, it was going to be good. And not in a physical sense. In an emotional sense. I wasn’t oblivious to my feelings, and I certainly wasn’t oblivious to Nico’s. Not when he was standing before me, professing his love in his own quiet and guarded way.

“You can stay tonight.” My offer had his brow furrowing. “At my place.” I clarified, and Nico nodded. Maybe we were moving a little fast, but it had been months since we first saw each other. Months of writing and getting to know one another.

“I’d love to. But let’s do the date first.. yeah?” I laughed softly.

“Good idea.”

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

[scarlet-traveler]

Every time Eijirou arrived at the little coffee shop a couple blocks from campus, the cute blond would be there.

That in and of itself wasn’t strange—it was a coffee shop, Eijirou was bound to see other fellow college students there, looking dead to the world as they got their caffeine fix for the day. What was strange was that the guy was always there when Eijirou got there not long after the cafe opened, when the scent of fresh-baked goods still hung heavy in the air and the rest of the world was still trying to get another hour of sleep.

He’d become part of Eijirou’s morning routine by this point: he’d arrive around 6:30 AM, greet whatever tired-looking college-aged kid was working the counter that day, order a french vanilla cappuccino and whatever pastry caught his eye, and settle at his favorite booth near the back of the shop where he would have peace to draw and a perfect view of the pretty blond as he did his own work.

The other guy always stuck close to the exit, sipping from a travel coffee cup rather than one of the shop’s mugs as he worked on his laptop and the assorted papers scattered across the tabletop, completely in the zone of…whatever he was doing. Something super complicated if the graphs and equations Eijirou had spotted on some of the pages as he came in were anything to go by. He must’ve been majoring in the sciences or something. Pretty and smart.

Eijirou hadn’t initially planned on watching the blond every morning. He hadn’t! Curiosity at the other early-riser had just grown into a few glances as he drew in his sketchbook between bites of breakfast, and soon it had become open (albeit sneaky) staring as he tried to learn as much about him as he could without actually interacting with him.

Pretty Blond (the name Eijirou had decided to give him for the time being) never really paid attention to his surroundings, earbuds in and blocking out everything around him. He also made a lot of faces as he worked. Most of the time he had a concentrated pout on his lips, but sometimes it would scrunch up into a frustrated scowl, his eyebrows angled downward and the barest hint of teeth showing past his lips as he angrily typed, or he’d have a wide triumphant smirk after puzzling through a hard problem that made Eijirou’s heart flutter in his chest the slightest bit. He liked seeing that face.

There was one morning as he’d been sketching that that smirk had grown on the blond’s face, the guy even lightly pumping his fist in triumph, and Eijirou suddenly had the thought to immortalize that look forever.

He stopped the still-life drawing of his croissant he’d been working on, and he flipped to the next page of his sketchbook and started drawing as fast as he could, determined to get as many details down as he could before that smile left his memory. It wasn’t his best work, the face slightly lopsided without his usual guidelines, and he hadn’t bothered erasing where he’d made mistakes, but that proud smirk shined up at him out of the page so he couldn’t hate it.

It became a thing after that, to use Pretty Blond as a drawing model every morning. Eijirou had been wanting to practice drawing people more, so what better way than to reference the guy that had so thoroughly grabbed his attention over the last few weeks?

Which brought him to today.

Eijirou hunched over his sketchbook, taking peeks at the blond every few seconds as he drew. He’d arrived a little later than usual, but the blond was still there at his usual table, and Eijirou had internally breathed a sigh of relief of not missing him.

The blond wasn’t making any faces today, and he wasn’t working on the multitude of papers he usually had either. Only his travel mug and a book sat on the table, and the guy had his head propped up on his elbow, a fist smushed into his cheek as he read. Early morning sunlight filtered in through the window behind him, casting his face in slight shadows while seeming to make his ash blond hair appear like it was on fire.

It was a beautiful sight, and Eijirou was doing his best to capture it in simple graphite.

Glance up, adjust the blond spikes—

Glance up, deepen the shading across soft cheekbones—

Glance up, add the tiny mole on the left side of his mouth he’d just noticed—

Glance up—

Eijirou breath hitched, his pencil freezing.

Pretty Blond was looking back at him.

Time was frozen as they stared at each other across the coffee shop, Eijirou’s eyes wide and the blond’s own unreadable, but it kickstarted back into action when the blond flicked his eyes downward toward Eijirou’s sketchbook before going back to his face, an eyebrow cocking.

Even with several feet between them, Eijirou felt his blood run cold from that gaze. Shit, had he noticed him staring? Did he know Eijirou was drawing him? He had to if his gaze had found the sketchbook so quickly.

Unable to hide it, Eijirou shakily lifted the sketchbook and flipped it around so the half-finished sketch was facing Pretty Blond.

Immediately the blond’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and he even sat up straighter as he looked at the drawing. But…he didn’t look mad. He was just staring, but his intense gaze darting across the page still made Eijirou fidget nervously in his seat.

It’s not until the blond’s gaze met Eijirou’s again that he finally set the journal back down. The eye contact lingered, the other’s gaze scrutinizing, and Eijirou was trying to figure out how to beg for forgiveness for this huge overstep in boundaries when the blond propped his head on his fist again, almost identically to how he was before, and he waved lazily at Eijirou in a ‘go on’ gesture.

Eijirou blinked. He…he was letting him finish the drawing?

As if hearing the question out loud, Pretty Blond glared as if Eijirou had said something stupid before nodding at the sketchbook.

Eijirou scrambled to grab his pencil then, and he could feel heat rising to his cheeks as he got back to work. The light had shifted some as the sun continued to rise, but he could make this work.

As he glanced over at the blond again, he had that smirk on his lips as he watched Eijirou. He quickly dropped his gaze to the sketchbook, his entire face burning.

Damn that smirk.

It was maybe half an hour later when Eijirou finally finished, and he still had another twenty minutes or so before he needed to be at the art studio on campus. Before he could leave though he tore the finished sketch from his journal and stood, crossing the invisible barrier across the coffee shop to approach Pretty Blond’s table. He looked just as surprised to see Eijirou coming, pausing where he had been putting his book back into his backpack.

Eijirou stopped on the other side of the table, and before he could chicken out he thrust the drawing into the other’s hands. “Here. It’s only right that you keep it.” His now free hand then went to the back of his neck, scratching it awkwardly as a sheepish grin pulled at his lips. “I’m really sorry for just drawing you like that, that was probably super creepy and I should’ve asked first.”

Fortunately the blond didn’t look too creeped out, instead taking the drawing and examining it further. Eventually he shrugged, and he dug out a pen from his bag, scribbled something on the corner of the page, and pushed it back across the table toward Eijirou. “Keep it. Just buy me a coffee next time and we’re even.”

Eijirou picked up the sheet to see what he wrote: in a neat scrawl was the name Bakugou Katsuki—Pretty Blond’s name? He liked it—and below it was—

Eijirou’s heart skipped a beat. Was that his phone number?

His eyes jumped up to Bakugou, who was watching him expectantly. Instantly, a wide smile spread across Eijirou’s lips. “Yeah, sure man! Same time tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Bakugou finished putting away his things before standing and slinging his bag over his shoulder, and with a wave over his shoulder he headed for the door. “Later, Shitty Hair.”

“It’s Kirishima, actually!” he called after Bakugou, but he only received a middle finger in response before he was out the door, the little bell over it ringing as it swung closed.

The next morning saw the same schedule: french vanilla cappuccino, a blueberry scone today, and heading to his booth in the back. Only this time, he wasn’t alone.

Bakugou was already sitting in the booth, his laptop and papers out, but there was still room on the tabletop for Eijirou’s own things. He looked up as the redhead approached, and Eijirou had the pleasure of seeing a real smile grace his lips. It was small, but it was there.

“Hey man!” Eijirou returned the smile with a wide one of his own. “Still want that coffee?”

Bakugou nodded and handed over his travel cup. “Black, no cream, two sugars.”

“Got it!” The order was made in less than a minute, and he slid the cup across the table as he slid into the other side of the booth. “So, would you be cool with being my muse again?”

Bakugou smirked over the lid of his cup as he took a sip. “You’re asking this time?”

Eijirou’s face burned. Bakugou may still be pretty, but he was sassier than he expected. “C’mon man, I’m trying to make it right! It wasn’t manly of me to do that and-“

Bakugou was waving him off before he could finish, the smirk still playing at his lips. “I’m just fucking with you. Do what you want. You want me a certain way?”

“Nope!” Eijirou grabbed his sketchbook and flipped it open to the next blank page. “Just stay how you are.”

~

Fic written for @krbkevents KRBK Month 2023 Day 21: Coffee Shop! Also on AO3, let me know what you think!

[undercover-ballerina]

Trailblazing & Stargazing - Chapter 25

On Monday morning, Hermione woke up in the arms of Draco Malfoy, for the second time in as many days. In the faint light that came from the streetlamp outside, she looked at his face. His features were relaxed, his lips slightly parted, his cupid bow was deliciously tempting. She decided to get up, not wanting to mess up her routine. And definitely needing to clear her head. She slithered out of the bed, making sure not to wake him, and headed to the living room closing the bedroom door behind her. She put on her yoga clothes and began her sun salutations.

She was halfway through her practice when Draco rushed out of her bedroom, stark naked, wand in hand and with a slightly panicked look, only to find her stretching her back and legs in downward dog. He took a deep breath and his posture relaxed.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what on earth are you doing with your arse in the air at 5AM?” He asked, tilting his head sideways looking at her with a raised brow and the hint of a smirk.

“It’s my yoga routine. I do this every morning. Helps me focus and keeps my muscles strong and flexible.” She explained, still upside down.

“If I may, I might have a suggestion to improve this routine. Flexibility and all.” He grinned as he approached her.

“You may not!” She said as she transitioned into warrior one pose. “Since you are up, you can start making breakfast.” She blew him a kiss and he huffed in protest as he went back into her room to get dressed, A few minutes later he walked by her, heading towards the kitchen.

When she was done with her routine, Hermione went into the kitchen where Draco was waiting for her. He kissed her the moment she was through the door.

“Good morning to you too.” She chuckled when they broke the kiss.

The table was set for breakfast with two steaming cups of tea, warm and buttery pain au chocolat in a small woven basket with an embroidered napkin, creamy scrambled eggs and crisp stir-fried vegetables in fine bone-china plates with gilded rim, foamy cappuccinos in cups that matched the plates, a fresh flower arrangement in a tall crystal vase.

Hermione looked at him sideways. “I’m pretty sure none of this came from my pantry.” She said.

“Granger, your pantry was a post-atomic wasteland. I had Carson bring provisions. Enjoy a decent breakfast for once. You’re welcome.” He scoffed but still pulled out the chair for her.

[tagsecretsanta]

From @janetm74

From @janetm74 to @thedryswan

Scott Tracy/Jane Carter and Virgil Tracy/Zoey Kwark

Prompt chosen: Disastrous Double Date

Note: There is no canon name for Professor Kwark so I have chosen to use the name that is most often used fanon, thanks to The Dry Swan - Zoey

~

Getting time off as the Commander of iR and the CEO of TI was difficult at the best of times. Getting time off with his brother, Virgil, as the second most used operative on rescues, was even more difficult.

Throw in two girlfriends, one of which was a pilot and the other the owner of her own successful aeronautics company, who also had very busy and demanding schedules, and getting such time off together was almost impossible.

Thank goodness John was such a great multitasker. Somehow he had managed to not only arrange for Scott and Virgil to have time off but to ensure it coincided with Jane and Zoey too.

John had gone one step further. He’d arranged a double date for them. There had been much good-natured ribbing over this, but it was water off a duck’s back. And when the two brothers saw where John had booked they soon were thanking John and cuffing their younger brothers for the ribbing.

Borgo Santandrea was stunning, both in location and in looks. The hotel was built into a cliff face, a beautiful white building atop supports dug directly out of the cliff and surrounded by scrubland and trees with the cliff continuing to tower over it while also having a private beach and a direct path down into the crystal blue waters.

John had booked them a suite for the night, with some spa treatments if they wanted to partake of them and dinner in the Marinella Restaurant, on the balcony with views over the Tyrrhenian Sea and the gulf of Salerno.

It also helped that this was one area that International Rescue had not attended for any rescues, despite it being near quite an active earthquake zone and near several inactive volcanos and one semi-active one.

They flew out in Tracy One, timing their arrival to coincide with breakfast, which started with them mixing with the chefs while they cooked whatever the guests desired. There were crepes, French toast, pastries, omelettes, charcuterie and cheeses as well as salads, oils and tiny piles of salts.

They chose a wide selection of miniature pastries and the local Roman Breakfast Cakes, and took them to the beach bar along with small cups of cappuccino. The sweet cakes were delicious.

Afterwards they strolled along the white sands and kicked up the surf for quite a while before returning to the hotel for spa treatments and rest. While Jane and Zoey relaxed with full-body massages Scott and Virgil propped at the bar, helping themselves to the complimentary Biscotteria with freshly made lemonade that used the locally grown Amalfi lemons.

It didn’t take Virgil long to migrate to the piano and soon Scott was drifting to the soft sounds of gentle jazz. Jane slipping into the seat beside him barely woke him, but he pulled her close and buried his face in her hair. It smelt so good. Zoey sat on the other side of Scott, and a waiter brought over more lemonade and a selection from the Biscotteria.

The afternoon passed so pleasantly that none of them wanted to move upstairs and get ready for dinner, but eventually the four made their way up to the suite John had booked for them.

The suite was luxurious even by their standards, with its own private garden and infinity pool with views over the sea, and Scott made a mental note to recommend this place to Gordon. He was sure Penny would love it here too.

Scott and Virgil’s suits were Liverano & Liverano, an Italian bespoke tailor that had been going for 500 years. Their suits were designed with them in mind, Scott’s being the darkest blue fabric and Virgil’s a green a few shades lighter than Scott’s. While Virgil favoured the traditional white shirt and a matching bow tie and waistcoat, Scott had decided to eschew tradition for a pale blue silk polo neck.

They elicited gasps of admiration from Jane and Zoey. Those gasps were reciprocated when Scott and Virgil saw the outfits that the girls were wearing.

Jane had dressed in blue to complement Scott. She wore an ankle-length pale blue georgette dress with a slight cowl neckline, fitted throughout and with a side slit that reached almost to the top of her thigh. It was sleeveless and whispered slightly as she moved, and the skirt swished over a pair of dangerously high gold strappy sandals. A fine gold lace shawl covered her bare arms.

Zoey had gone with a yukata. The traditional dress was a dark green close to Virgil’s suit, with the typical white and pale green hydrangea and minute sprays of pale pink cherry blossoms. The outfit was completed with a sash of the palest green and wooden sandals. Her short, bobbed hair was held back with a green band to match the base layer.

It was one of the few times Scott and Virgil didn’t mind wearing suits. They held out their elbows and their girlfriends took the proffered support and they made their way downstairs to the restaurant.

They were shown to their balcony seats. The sun was low on the horizon, painting the sky with hues of gold and pinks, reflecting off their drinks. The food was superb. There was some light music playing.

Scott leaned over and kissed Jane soundly. So soundly it felt like the Earth moved. And then he snorted. What a cheesy thing to think. He turned to say that to Jane when the Earth moved again.

Literally.

‘Scott! Virgil!’

‘John?’

‘We’re picking up tremors in your area. Are you guys alright?’

‘We’re…’

But Scott couldn’t finish what he was saying as this time the Earth moved so violently that people were screaming and he was scrabbling to stay on his feet. Scott took one look at Virgil and they hurried both girls and the other diners into the hotel for safety.

And then, with a roar of noise so loud they couldn’t hear John screaming from their watches, the cliff behind the hotel came rushing down on them.

John kept trying Scott and Virgil while sounding the emergency alarm. Gordon and Alan raced into the lounge closely followed by Kayo and Penny, who was visiting while iR were two operatives down.

‘John? What it is?’

‘It’s Scott and Virgil. There’s been an earthquake and a landslide over the hotel and I can’t raise them!’

They didn’t waste any time getting into Two and flying out. As they flew Gordon asked John if there was any news, but there wasn’t, there hadn’t been any contact.

From base to Italy was around 11,600 miles. Even at Two’s top airspeed it would still take them an hour and half to get there. It was the longest journey of their lives. Gordon was hard put not to push Two harder. Virgil might have been able to coax more out of his ‘bird, but Gordon didn’t have the confidence to do so and guarantee Two would stay safe.

They were twenty minutes out when they finally got some good news.

Getting people off the balcony didn’t prove to be too difficult once the floor buckled, and everyone rushed into the main restaurant. As people milled around Scott realised that the majority didn’t have a clue and he knew there was very little time. So, supported by Virgil, he climbed onto a table and bellowed.

‘STOP!’

Miraculously everyone stopped and looked at him.

‘Under the tables, NOW! You – get your staff out of the kitchen, it’s going to be too dangerous in there.’

Scott had one of those voices that people just listened to, and everyone hurried to do as they had been told. It wasn’t a moment too soon as seconds later the hotel was hit by rocks, and the four of them, hugging around the base of a large round table, watched as boulders of all sizes decimated the balcony they had been on less than a minute earlier.

It wasn’t long before the rocks and the earth quaking tore the place apart, and pretty soon the restaurant was buried.

Virgil wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious but he was the first to wake up. He could barely move, but at least there was an air bubble that they could breathe in, even if there was lots of dust in the air.

He blinked dust out of his eyes while he took stock. The large tabletop had saved their lives, there was no doubt about that, the lump he could feel on the back of his head was testimony to that.

Zoey groaned in his arms and he looked her over as best as he could in the limited space. There was a small trickle of blood down the side of her head but that was all he could see. Beside her was Jane, still unconscious and with her head on Zoey’s shoulder.

Of Scott there was no sign. Virgil attempted to twist so he could find his brother, but they were packed in tight, with rubble all around them. Of course, Scott would have been on the outside, making sure everyone was safe. Virgil took a closer look at Jane and could see Scott’s hand on her shoulder.

Virgil set to wriggling his arm free in the hope that he could still contact John. It took some time, but eventually he pulled it out with a minimum of skin loss. His shirt and suit were ruined anyway but his watch was theoretically earthquake proof. But there was nothing. He gave it a shake and suddenly there was a grainy picture of John.

Even though John’s holo wasn’t as clear as usual Virgil could see the relief on his brother’s face. As he smiled Zoey decided to wake up, blinking in confusion before laying her head back on Virgil’s shoulder.

‘Virgil! Are you all ok?’

‘Stuck but I’m ok. Zoey’s just waking up, Jane’s still out of it. I don’t know about Scott, I can only see his hand on Jane’s shoulder. I can’t move enough to check further than that.’

‘The guys are on their way, Virgil. They’ll be there in around 20 minutes. Sit tight.’

‘FAB, John.’

Virgil chuckled quietly at John’s parting words. That was a Gordon-worthy pun if ever he’d heard one.

‘Hey, Virgil?’

‘Zoey! How are you feeling?’

‘Like I just got trampled all over.’

‘You took a knock to the head, hun. Probably got a bit of concussion.’

‘Oh. Well, that explains a lot. Jane? Scott?’

‘Jane’s leaning on your other shoulder. I’m not sure about Scott.’

‘Rescue on its way?’

‘Yeah. The boys will be here soon.’

‘Oh good. Coz this date started so well but now it’s a disaster.’

‘Literally!’

They both laughed, grimacing when the dust caught their throats and they ended up coughing. The movements jostled Jane awake, much to their relief.

‘Can you girls stay awake?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘I – I think so. Virgil? Where’s Scott?’

‘I haven’t been able to rouse him. Jane, his hand is still on your shoulder. Can you feel him around you?’

Jane felt for the hand and slid her fingers up to the wrist. She sighed when she found a pulse before moving her hand to be holding Scott’s loosely. She gave his fingers a light squeeze but got no response.

‘I got a pulse but no reaction. He’s still out of it.’

‘That’s great. Keep squeezing his hand periodically. Judging from the amount of debris around us that whole cliff must have collapsed on top of the hotel. John?’

‘I’m here, Virgil.’

‘We’re pretty packed in here. I’m gonna see if there’s anyone else conscious and if we can start clearing a way out. Let us know if there are any more aftershocks.’

‘FAB, Virgil. Be careful and please keep the comm open.’

‘Of course.’

John relayed the news that he’d been in contact with Virgil and immediately everyone relaxed a fraction. Only a fraction though. Earthquakes were the worst of the disasters International Rescue attended. None of them liked earthquakes due to the unpredictable nature, but up until now they had never had any of their own caught in one.

By the time Two arrived there was no sign there had ever been a hotel in the cliff face. All there was was a wide path of rubble stretching down into the sea. The previously 300-foot-tall cliff was around half that, with a gap where the hotel was that was almost as wide.

The earthquake had its epicentre at nearby Tovere. Reports had placed it at a 5.7 on the Richter scale, almost double the strength that the area’s previous earthquakes had been, but with the centre in the sparsely populated area above the Amalfi coast the hotel had taken the brunt of the land movement.

Nearby Naples had also felt the quake, but the damage there was far less, and local services along with the local branches of the GDF declaring that they could deal with that damage and those areas around Tovere so International Rescue was free to concentrate on the hotel and the surrounding areas along the coast.

Alan gasped at the devastation, but Gordon was made of sterner stuff and kept his thoughts to himself. He felt Penny’s hand tighten on his shoulder and he smiled grimly at her.

‘John? We’re here. Directions? Is there anywhere safe to land Two?’

‘I have a landing site in mind a little further down the coast at Conca dei Marini. You should land on route SS163. It’s not ideal but there’s little around that is big enough that hasn’t been damaged by the quake.’

‘It’s great, John. Wouldn’t want Virgil to have cause to complain about me scratching his ‘bird.’

‘Alan, Penny, I suggest you take the mole pods. I know that there are usually only two chassis in Module 2 but Brains has packed a spare one for this mission so Kayo you can take the dozer and Gordon, someone needs to stay with Two and keep the infirmary ready.’

‘FAB, John. Alan, Penny, you want to go get your pods configured while I land.’

‘FAB, Gordon.’

As soon as Gordon had landed John showed a map of the surrounding coastline. Borgo Santandrea wasn’t the only place hit by the landslide although it was by far the worst. They were thankful that there was only a couple of places around the hotel that had buildings, the majority of the area was trees all the way down to the coast.

There were a couple of beach coves to the left of the hotel that had buildings, but the landslide seemed to have missed them. But there was the beach club house directly below the hotel and a large restaurant to the right of the hotel.

‘John? Any life signs in the club house and restaurant on the beach below the hotel?’

‘The beach house was closed; I’m reading no life signs there. The restaurant had not long opened but they had only a few customers and it appears they managed to make it to safety as there is radio chatter from the local ambulance saying they have picked them up.’

‘That’s great, John! So we can concentrate on the hotel?’

‘Yeah. Hotel registration and restaurant lists state there were 45 people in the building plus about 80 staff.’

‘Do – do the life signs agree with that number?’

‘Negative. EOS is currently reading 96 life signs, mostly registering around where the restaurant was.’

‘Well, that sucks but at least we have a point to start. Tell Virgil we’re on our way.’

‘FAB, Gordon. I have the local ambulance service on their way They’re sending three ambulances. Good luck.’

Meanwhile, Virgil was making inroads into moving the debris around them. He’d shouted for anyone else awake and received some groans in reply. He’d needed to twist awkwardly but the debris was thankfully not very compacted and with a little effort Virgil managed to get some space to move. It wasn’t easy, and judging from the grunts and swearing from other parts of the restaurant other people were also trying to dig themselves free.

As soon as there was space for Virgil to back out enough Zoey followed suit, and between them they shifted dirt and rocks so that they could get to Scott. As Virgil had feared Scott had placed himself on the outside of their group and a larger boulder had landed on Scott’s upper back and head, pushing him off of Virgil and Zoey. The angle of his shoulder and other arm told Virgil that at least that shoulder had been dislocated. But his pulse was strong, and they dug out an area that would be big enough to lay Scott down carefully.

By the time they had achieved that Jane had become more conscious, and she sat beside her boyfriend while Virgil and Zoey began to make their way to the next nearest table. They had barely reached it when the welcome sounds of a mole pod began to be heard.

Alan took the most direct route down to the restaurant while Penny and Kayo made sure that there were no life signs higher up. By the time Alan had cleared through enough to exit the mole Virgil had reached the other table and Penny and Kayo were just breaking through.

The first thing that Alan did was to give Virgil a quick hug before his older brother directed him to look after Scott while the rest of them set to rescuing everyone else.

Before attempting to move him Alan ran the Medscanner over Scott. As expected there were several yellow alerts for severe bruising and cuts and red alerts for concussion and a skull fracture as well as a fractured shoulder and two breaks in that arm. But his back and neck were in the clear and Alan sighed in relief. He and Jane carefully rolled him onto a hover stretcher and, using the hole the mole had made, the pair took Scott to the surface.

Jane took over Scott’s stretcher, giving the ambulance that had arrived a rundown of his injuries, and they were both whisked away despite Jane’s protests. But then the paramedic wiped blood from her face and Jane realised that she was also hurt.

‘Gordon, Scott and Jane are on their way to the hospital. Virgil’s sending the injured out and they’ll need Two’s infirmary. The three buses are not going to be enough, almost everyone is injured in some way.’

‘FAB, John. I’m ready.’

‘Penny’s heading back to you to help. She’ll bring Zoey with her.’

‘Is Zoey hurt?’

‘Yeah, slight concussion but she’ll be okay.’

‘FAB, John.’

Then began a steady stream of rescuees. It took Gordon, Penny and Zoey to keep up with treating everyone. No one was surprised to see Virgil as the last person in. By that time Virgil stumbled into Two there was standing room only, so Gordon ushered his brother into the cockpit. It took a firm hand to push him into the co-pilot seat but Virgil understood he was in no fit state to fly.

Gordon saw to his head wound while Kayo flew them to the nearby hospital De Luca and Rossano as it was the closest unaffected one. They were inundated with patients and those with lesser injuries were transferred further up the coast to San Leonardo in Naples.

Deciding that keeping Scott, Jane, Zoey and Virgil together would be the best bet, the three lesser injured had already been treated and they were moved into one small Visitor’s Room and they began the wait for news of Scott and how the rescue was going.

John kept one eye on the rescue as the elevator dropped him close to the hospital. They’d worked through the night and in the early dawn light the rescue was wrapping up. Gordon would drop home and pick up Grandma. The GDF and local services were also finishing up the surrounding towns.

Joining Virgil, Zoey and Jane, John kept himself busy with making sure everyone injured was being treated, setting up a fund that made sure of that. He only stopped doing that when the rest of their family joined them.

There were careful hugs all round and they had only just begun to settle down into the chairs when the door opened again and a doctor appeared. Those able to immediately jumped up, and Grandma took the lead.

‘Good morning. I’m Doctor Marino and I’ve been treating Scott.’

‘Good morning, Dr. I’m Dr Tracy, Scott’s Grandmother. How is he?’

‘Well, he has a linear skull fracture, a broken shoulder blade and his humerus is broken in two places – a simple proximal fracture and shaft fracture around the middle part of the bone. None of his injuries require surgery, but we kept him under close observation for a couple of hours just to make sure there was no build-up of intracranial pressure or any blood clots forming. He’s being wheeled into a room and we will continue to monitor both these potential issues for another six hours.’

The doctor beamed as everyone sighed in relief before continuing.

‘The skull fracture will not need further treatment. Scott’s arm has been put into a light-weight plaster cast and tightly strapped to facilitate healing of both arm and shoulder, but with no further complications he’ll be free to go home once the monitoring is done.’

‘Prognosis?’

‘Six to eight weeks for the fractures to heal as is common. Only once they are healed will we know what kind of physio he’ll need.’

‘Thank you, Doctor.’

Sally shook hands with the doctor and a few minutes after they had left a nurse came to show them all to Scott’s room. The man himself was asleep, but despite how quiet everyone was trying to be he woke up, groggy and confused. Wisely they all retreated, leaving Virgil, Zoey and Jane to explain what had happened.

Once Scott understood he was going to be out of action for a minimum of six weeks Scott groaned loudly and began to try to get out of bed, but Jane’s hand on his good shoulder stopped him quicker than words could.

‘Love, this double date may have disastrous, but you’re good, I’m good. Virgil and Zoey are good. And we are all injured and not going anywhere. Maybe, once you’re given the all-clear to fly, we can go home and crash and have a normal double date with a takeaway and crappy movies and rest.’

Scott looked at his lover and his family and sat back in the bed.

‘Takeaway and crappy movie double date? I’m up for that. Virgil? Zoey? You up for that too?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Sounds good.’

Scott kissed Jane’s hand, his eyes twinkling.

‘Only if we can have a Top Gun marathon.’

[themeatpit37]

Stardew Valley Bachelor/Bachelorette Headcanons; Coffee Shop Order

Honestly I needed something to do to take a break from the grind of college and AU nonsense that I am for some reason trying to use to stress myself out. So here’s orders a friend of mine and I talked about! Made this after I was supposed to be sleeping so sorry for errors in characterization, grammar, or spelling.

Leah- Chai lover at heart! May enjoy a cup of cider in fall occasionally as well. She usually will go with Elliott.

Elliott- Macchiato. Besides that, he is known for his very complicated and annoying orders but he tips well so it evens out. But his tummy hurts after :(

Harvey- Either espresso or plain coffee. He thinks creamer makes it too sweet and he mostly needs it for the energy boost.

Maru- Prefers fruity refresher drinks, Especially if it’s strawberry!

Alex- Mocks guys who drink fancy coffees at coffee shops but he secretly orders a chocolate and caramel Frappuccino with extra whipped cream. He orders one of the breakfast sandwiches with it too so he can say “The drink is for Haley, I just wanted breakfast!” and obviously for the protein.

Haley- She is That Bitch who orders pumpkin spice every time fall comes around and we have no choice but to Stan. Go girl, enjoy your drink!

Shane- He doesn’t go to coffee shops often but when he does, it’s usually for someone else. He’ll get a muffin or cookie for Jas and then order himself a coffee with only creamer.

Emily- Secret menu girlie.

Sebastian- Says he drinks black coffee because it’s “Black like my soul” but actually enjoys mocha.

Abigail- Most people may think she’d just want rocks in a cup, but actually she enjoys actual foods. She mostly is there to order the bakery goods so she can eat while chatting with Sam and Sebastian. More than likely coffee cake or a muffin with her drink of choice (If she has to choose) being a cappuccino

Sam- Hot chocolate! He naturally has a sweet tooth and doesn’t like bitter drinks at all.

Penny- Tea. She dislikes coffee but likes to sit in the shop to read and enjoy the atmosphere. To her, it’s more for the relaxing environment to distract her from her home life and less about the drink.

BONUS! Krobus- Whipped cream in a cup for the beloved shadow.

[noturprobiem]

Thank you @frostedlemonwriter for tagging me in this tag game!

Rules: just share any writing snippet

I'm leaving an open tag and if you are fine with me tagging you in writing games the future, please tell me

This is the beginning of my new wip (it doesn't have a title yet)

Damien Bailey found out he was engaged a few weeks after the wedding preparations had started. It was a quiet morning. Warm summer wind was calm enough for a small breakfast on the balcony. The garden underneath looked especially fresh after the rain, the coffee smelled great, and his parents brought quite a few of his favorite desserts with them. His mother was sitting across from him with her back straight, her baby blue dress and white scarf ironed to perfection, only the tight grip on the clutch bag showing her true emotions. His father seemed pretty apologetic, too, his usual white suit making him look a bit pale. Damian let the silence linger for a bit, took a sip of his warm cappuccino, then finally asked: “Who is it?” His mom shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “It's… I know it might sound like an odd choice, but it's the oldest boy from the Grant family.” Damien took a few seconds to process, then smiled to himself and brought the cup to his lips again to hide it. That was a curious choice, indeed. And a great one if you ask him. “If that's what you want, I'm fine with it,” Damien said. “I'm choosing the outfit for the wedding, though.” His parents breathed a sigh of relief in unison. Damien was never prone to throwing tantrums but his older brothers were famous for their horrible temper and everyone, although they would never admit it, was waiting for Damien to reveal that part of himself. “He knows the marriage isn't real, too, and he is a respectful and polite young man. I'm sure you will figure out a way to be happy with or without him,” his mom said. “He is a bit odd,” Damien remarked, if only to look at the way his parent's brows got furrowed in response. “Isn't he religious?” “I figure anyone would be in his line of work. But the rumors say… Well, it's not important what the rumors say, exactly, just trust me that he isn't opposed to same-sex marriages.” “We'll see how that goes,” Damien mused, more to himself than as a reply.

[teddybeartoji]

mickey !! crawling out of my blanket fort for the ask game u just rbd…… for the questions, maybeee 1 + 26 + 41?? :3 am making a cup of coffee for u in preparation ☕️

OMG OMG OMGGGGG ARIIII MY SWEET LITTLE IRIS IT'S SO GOOD TO SEE YOU HEREEE<333333

1. who is/are your comfort character(s)?

satoru................................ nobody is surprised lmao but he's my little itty bitty honey bunny blue eyed princess and i just feel like smiling whenever i think about him okay:(( i love him so much wahh:(( and also yuuji and hinata<33333 btw are we.. are we seeing a theme here i am not immune to big smiles alright????

i wish i could also say like abby or ellie from tlou but... i get no fucking comfort from them only pain and suffering idk why i like them in the first place smhh jkjk little angry lesbians oh how i love you so

okay now that i'm really thinking about it, thee most obscure little guy popped into my head - schmidt from new girl. i've only seen like the first three seasons but every time i see this guy i'm like yes. thank you schmidt. you are funny.

tried to go 2 minutes without talking about him but.... it is toji too. i keep seeing thee softest fanart of him on twt and i just melt every time. like pics of him in big jackets n coats with a massive scarf:(( or with him n mamagumi:(((((((((( idk i think about getting a hug from him and i'm fixed for a while what more could i ask from a comfort character🐱🐱

26. a scenario that you've replayed multiple times?

ok this is the first thing that first came to mind and i think it's so funny so that's the one i'm gonna go with

cue little eight year old mickey right. my family and our relatives were all at our family home, eating breakfast in the big room. there are multiple windows and when you look out you can see the front door right.... remember that. anyway, there's like 15 people in the room bla bla and i was sent to go fetch the fucking newspaper or smth.

so i go outside. and there's Three big steps there. okay another very important fact that i was a very. very very clumsy kid. let's continue. i fall down the three massive steps. of course. bare knees and all, fly right into the asphalt underneath but the thing is... i was clumsy but i wasn't a crier. like i always fell off trees and there literally wasn't a single summer until i was like 16 where my knees were NOT bruised and bloody lmao.

so i'm fine. i just thought it was funny bc c'mon how the fuck do you fall down three steps you know. but then i felt it... the glare........

still sitting on the ground with bloody knees and palms, i slooooowly turn around and find my dad just staring right at me. NOBODY else was looking, only him. he's looking at me and then he just slowly shakes his head......................................... omfggggg brooo don't act like you never did thattt😒😒😒😒 anyway idk why this one is so stuck in my head but i do still think it's so funny it's so stupid like why was he staring??? go help your kidd?????? i mean i was fine i didn't want his help buT IT'S ABOUT THE POINTTT

41. how do you take your coffee?

with milk and sugar hihihii!!! when i go out i usually order a cappuccino or if they have a frappe in the selection i'm getting that!!!

i'm good with it being hot, i'm good with it being lukewarm, i'm good with it being cold - i am not picky!!!!! i'm also not picky over the quality lmao i drink those capsule coffees at home and but i'm super used to the 3in1 drinks too just bc i was drinking a lot of those at work yk

[nochuelinha]

Your Eyes - Chapter 2: Caffeine and Classes

I woke up the next morning with the sun on my face. I had forgotten to close the curtains, so I groggily got out of bed, picked out an outfit for the day, and opened the door. I headed toward the bathroom and checked if it was empty. After confirming that the bathroom was unoccupied, I stepped inside and began my morning routine. The warm water from the shower helped awaken my senses, and I could hear the sounds of the city outside as I prepared for the day. Once I finished, I returned to my room to complete getting ready.

The apartment was quiet, and I assumed both Dina and Ellie were still asleep. I decided to go downstairs to the kitchen and prepare breakfast for all of us. I managed to find everything I needed and whipped up a meal. Dina was the first to appear, and her expression was one of surprise.

“Did you make all of this?” Her voice held disbelief as she sat down. Her hair was tousled, and her pajamas were wrinkled—a comical sight. I grabbed a cup of coffee and sat next to her.

Dina started eating, clearly enjoying the meal, and I felt satisfied seeing her relax and feel comfortable. Starting the day with this moment of togetherness was nice—it helped us bond and strengthen our friendship. I asked about Ellie, and Dina looked at me and chuckled.“Ellie doesn’t live here. She has her own apartment. She used to live with Cat, but since their relationship ended, the apartment is all hers now.” I nodded understandingly as I listened to Dina explain Ellie’s situation.

“I see. Dealing with a breakup like that must be tough,” I commented, empathizing with Ellie’s situation. “I hope she’s doing okay.”

Finishing my breakfast, I got up to start tidying up the kitchen. Walking to campus with Dina was a great way to begin the day. As we headed to our first classes, our lively conversation continued. Upon arriving at campus, I felt a mix of nervousness and excitement.

As we arrived on campus, I felt a mix of nervousness and excitement. Looking around, I was impressed by the architecture and the bustling movement of students coming and going. Dina and I split up to head to our respective classes.

After classes, Dina messaged me: “Meet me at the café near campus. I’ll send you the location.” I followed the location to the café close by. When I arrived, I spotted Dina at a table in the back, waving at me with a smile. I approached her and sat down, greeting her with an enthusiastic nod. The café was busy, filled with students taking a break between classes. To my surprise, Ellie was the one taking orders.

“Look at the formidable customers I found here,” she playfully remarked. Dina seemed quite accustomed to the situation. I decided to check the menu, ordering a cappuccino and a pastry. Ellie left and soon returned with our orders. A few minutes later, she joined us without her apron, announcing, “15-minute break.” She joined our conversation, looking beautiful today. I noticed a tattoo on her arm and asked, “Do you like it?”

“Yes, it’s very beautiful,” I agreed, feeling a slight blush on my face. Ellie smiled, seemingly pleased with my response. We continued chatting, and I learned that Dina had a boyfriend named Jesse but wasn’t ready to move in with him yet—they had only been together for a few months.

The days passed quickly, each bringing new experiences and challenges. I became a regular at the café, seeking the necessary energy to tackle afternoon studies. As classes grew more demanding, coffee became my ally on this learning journey. Dina and Ellie became constants in my university life, sharing laughter, conversations, and moments of relaxation during our breaks between classes. 

The days passed quickly, each bringing new experiences and challenges. I also became a regular at the café, seeking the necessary energy to tackle afternoon studies. As classes grew more demanding, I needed to focus even harder, and coffee became my ally on this learning journey. Dina and Ellie became constants in my university life, sharing laughter, conversations, and moments of relaxation during our breaks between classes.

“So, have you tried all the different drinks here? What’ll be your order today? I’ve already noted that you don’t like decaf,” Ellie’s tone was casual and relaxed.

“Today, I think I’ll go for a good espresso. I need an extra dose of energy to face the afternoon readings.” She smiled and went to prepare my order.

“I think you should take a break now and then, relax. Classes have just started,” she advised, handing me the coffee cup. I looked at her, raising my eyebrows. “I’ll try,” I replied, and she smiled. I waved to her and headed back to campus for some extra classes. I discovered that Ellie studies astrophysics, works at the café for a few hours, and has another type of job during her free time, although she remained enigmatic about the details. 

[magdasabs]

Nathalie Björn about the football World Cup, the girlfriend and the dream of becoming a pathologist

As a warm-up for the soccer World Cup in Australia and New Zealand, we meet national team star Nathalie Björn, who talks about the blue-yellow golden chances, everyday life in Liverpool with teammate and life partner Aurora Galli - as well as the secret dream of becoming obducent.

It's a homecoming hero settling down with a cappuccino in the flourishing Josef Frank armchair. We'll meet at Soho House in Stockholm, the international members' club housed in a top-renovated old Methodist church on a discreet back street in Östermalm. Nathalie Björn is on a temporary visit to Sweden to forge golden plans with the rest of the Swedish national team squad.

- I want a gold medal. That's just the way it is, says the 26-year-old defender with a smile.

Nathalie Björn in a jacket from Tiger of Sweden. Necklace, Enamel Copenhagen

Nathalie has just been named Player of the Year after her second season at Everton, an award that feels extra honorable as it is her teammates who have voted for her. The big club finished in sixth place in the English Women's Super League, but instead of a long well-deserved holiday, it was just a matter of changing the Everton jersey for the blue-yellow national team uniform and heading home to Sweden for the preparations for the World Cup in New Zealand and Australia.

- It still feels good to get a short breather at home before we go on to the WC. I have a few days now where I can disconnect from football and feel normal before I recharge mentally for New Zealand and Australia.

Easy to forget that I'm actually living the dream

The Swedish national team has been among the top in the world since the end of the 90s and continues to be at the forefront even when the general development in women's football has caught up and more national teams have become increasingly better. In last year's European Championships, Nathalie and the rest of Blågult made it to the semi-finals where they went out against the host nation England. In this summer's world championships, they are hungry for revenge and have great chances for a medal.

- You are so strict with yourself and just want to move on all the time. It's easy to forget that I'm actually living the dream. I represent Sweden in front of packed stadiums, which I dreamed of when I was little. Stepping out of the players' tunnel in front of all the blue and yellow supporters and singing the national anthem together with the best players in Sweden is the best feeling in the world. Nothing beats the pride you feel then.

Playing against the roommate in the football World Cup

The fact that the football World Cup is played down under means that we in Sweden get to follow many of the matches for breakfast, sometimes with kick-off as early as seven o'clock Swedish time. The fact that Sweden ended up in the same group as Italy also means that Nathalie is face to face with her partner Aurora Galli , the Italian midfielder with whom she plays everyday at Everton.

Nathalie Björn and partner Aurora Galli. "It was love at first sight."

Photo: Nathalie Björn/Private

- She signed for Everton at the same time as me, but came to the club earlier because I played in the Olympics in Tokyo. It sounds so corny, but it was love at first sight. I had never had a girlfriend before. I knew I was drawn to personalities whether they were boys or girls, but I had only had boyfriends before. When I came to England I had just broken up with a guy and suddenly I met Aurora and felt it was more than just friendship. It was just such a strong feeling and so it became us. Now we have been together for a year and a half.

Everton FC is based in Liverpool, the classic working-class city in the north of England that gave us both The Beatles and the latest Eurovision Song Contest with Loreen as the winner.

- I like Liverpool. It is an old harbor town, so it is always close to the water, which creates a nice atmosphere. It is a nice town with many good restaurants and shops.

Nathalie and Aurora live in the Liverpool suburb of Huyton in a typical British two-storey red brick house.

- It looks exactly as you imagine. A British terraced house with carpet everywhere except in the bathroom, and a small scrub under the stairs like in Harry Potter where we threw in shoes and bags and all sorts of crap. Outside there is a small garden with artificial grass and a fence.

Nathalie Björn in a dress from Dagmar. Earrings, Pilgrim. Photo: Sanna Dahlén

British suburban life is set in stone, not least for an elite level footballer.

- I won't say it's boring, but it's the same thing all the time. The alarm clock rings just after eight, then we register the day's form via an app on the phones. There you enter how much you have slept or if you have calf pain. When it's finished and sent to the club, we fall asleep again and sleep for another hour or so. At ten o'clock there is breakfast at the training facility, which is ten minutes from home. Classic English breakfast with white beans in tomato sauce, toast, eggs, fried tomato and mushrooms. Afterwards, we warm up with various exercises before going out and practicing football for an hour and a half. Then we shower, eat lunch, work out in the gym, shower again and go home at two. We have a match on Sundays, then it could be the bus down to London and stay there one night in a hotel. We are closed on Mondays and Tuesdays. That's what life looks like.

Dreaming of a big house in Sweden

Nathalie and Aurora are, to say the least, a high-achieving couple who represent their respective home countries in football when they are not playing side by side in one of England's most storied clubs. Despite that, or maybe because of that, they talk about everything but football when they get home.

- It happens that we discuss football in the car on the way home from training, but when we get home we want to talk about other things. It's really nice.

In addition to the house in Liverpool, which the couple rents from the football club, Nathalie has just bought an apartment in her childhood city of Uppsala.

- I want to have my own home in Sweden. A fixed point. I'm so tired of living in a suitcase or in a guest room with mom or dad, especially when you're used to living on your own.

Nathalie grew up in the district of Årsta in Uppsala. Mother worked in elderly care and father was a plumber. The parents divorced early and Nathalie was an only child for a long time, but today she has younger siblings on both her mother's and father's side. It was her father who got her to start playing football at the age of four.

Nathalie Björn in a sweater from Adnym Atelier. Trousers, Baum und Pferdgarten. Earrings, Pilgrim and Glitter. Loafers, Vagabond. Photo: Sanna Dahlén

- He was an old footballer himself and made me invest in football instead of dancing, even though I still love to dance. Dad often visits England and has been to all the championships, except the Olympics in Tokyo when we played without an audience due to the pandemic. Mother doesn't have time to come as often, but she is there as often as she can. Both mum and dad are very proud of me. I really feel that.

In the future, Nathalie dreams of a big house in Sweden and another one in Italy.

- I'm not so much in favor of burning money on sports cars, but I want to save up and build my own house near my family and friends. The dream is to have a house in Uppsala and a house in Italy. Maybe in Tromello where the girl is from, it's a small village in northern Italy, an hour outside of Milan. The girl says you can't have two houses because it costs too much money, but we'll see.

Any plans for children lie further ahead and are not as straightforward as for the colleagues on the men's side who can let wives, girlfriends and nannies do the grunt work. Nathalie glances at how her older national team mates solve that part.

- Right now I don't want children, but one day. I have no idea how long I will play football. Caroline Seger is 38 and Hedvig Lindahl 40, so there is a lot of time left. It can be difficult to start a family during your career. If you could do like Elin Rubensson and have children and then come back to the national team, it would be awesome. Also, I'm with a girl, which can also prolong the process, so I have no idea. Regardless, it's marriage that counts first and foremost, my girl jokes. She is Italian and traditional. But there is no stress.

Nathalie Björn lives in a terraced house in Liverpool with her girlfriend and teammate Aurora Galli. Photo: Sanna Dahlén / Sanna Dahlén

Expected to have an opinion like a football player

The football world is more politically charged than ever. Last year's controversial men's World Cup in Qatar was more about politics than football and was marred by protests, boycotts and wild debates. When it became clear earlier this year that rainbow colored captain's armbands will also be banned during the women's soccer World Cup this summer, just like for the men in Qatar, the debate flared up again. Although the discussions make sense and it's never wrong to use your platform to highlight important issues, the idea of ​​football as a non-political arena can feel more attractive than ever. As a player, it is not enough to spend all your waking hours pushing your body and psyche to the limit in order to be the best, but you also have to have an opinion about rainbow bandages and the gender pay gap, and be fully educated about how small desert nations stand on human rights.

Nathalie Björn in the national team jersey. Photo: FREDRIK JONASSON / STELLA PICTURES

- You are always expected to have an opinion, especially as a female footballer, but sometimes you don't. Most recently, it was the rainbow ties and the prize money in the World Cup that people were talking about. Often you haven't even reflected on these political things and try to answer as best you can. Then it looks as if you are whining in the media.

Managing the media is difficult. British tabloid press is notorious and Nathalie steeled herself before moving to a country as football-crazy as England, but today she feels that British media are far more stimulating than the Swedish ones.

- You always hear that the British press is so terrible, but I feel that they are much nicer than the Swedish media. Even if we win, there will often be complaints afterwards, critical questions asked and negative views. Perhaps it is typically Swedish. We are celebrated in a completely different way in England.

Nathalie Björn in top from Viktoria Chan. Pants, Teurn Studios. Jewelry, Nootka. Slippers, Birkenstock.

Nathalie Björn in top from Viktoria Chan. Pants, Teurn Studios. Jewelry, Nootka. Slippers, Birkenstock. Photo: Sanna Dahlén

When Nathalie is not playing soccer, she wallows in blood and murder. Crime series such as Criminal minds , True detective and Mindhunter replace each other in front of the TV sofa at home in Liverpool and the interest in murder mysteries does not stop there.

- I studied forensic psychology to learn how the brain of a serial killer works. It was part of the course to attend a trial, so I brought Caroline Seger with me when we both played in Rosengård. It was a drug case where a guy had been smoking weed and we happened to be late. All eyes turned to us as we stepped into the minimal courtroom. The perpetrator and the prosecutors understood nothing: What the hell is the Swedish national team doing here? It was so stiff.

Dreaming of becoming a pathologist

The 26-year-old has a secret plan B for the day it's time to put the football boots on the shelf.

- I have a strange dream and it is to become a pathologist. I want to be able to say: Okay, this is the cause of death. I don't know if I want to be a pathologist, but I definitely could have been a nurse and then an assistant medical examiner. I've looked that up a bit, and it's only a three-year degree.

Nathalie Björn looks out over the grand hall at Soho House, bathed in the kaleidoscopic summer light of the church windows.

- But first I have to win the WC.

The Swedish national soccer team showed its support for Iran's women at an international match against France last fall. Back row from left: Nathalie Björn, Amanda Ilestedt, Zećira Mušović, Stina Blackstenius, Lina Hurtig and Magdalena Eriksson. Front row from left: Filippa Angeldahl, Elin Rubensson, Kosovare Asllani, Olivia Schough and Jonna Andersson. Photo: BJÖRN LARSSON ROSVALL/TT / TT NEWS AGENCY