#why does no one else see the tired starbucks barista in him that i see in him

[ceratedfish24]

“Scott is manipulative because-“ manipulative is implying a level of effort that is. Not. There. Do you think that poor man has the energy to be manipulative. He is just trying to stay on everyone’s good list. He is just trying not to pick a fight. I don’t understand why you don’t trust his intentions of simply getting through this day without having to raise his sword to one of his friends. I would do the exact same thing. Sometimes you don’t want to fight. Sometimes you just want to let them fight each other. And that’s normal.

“But it’s for the lore-“ Scott’s lore is that he actively rebels against the watchers. Do you think being manipulative to his friends makes the watchers sad. No. They feed on that. Scott’s lore is not being manipulative. Scott’s lore is being angry and tired and over it all and grieving and so earnest it hurts. Scott’s whole thing is honor. He honors his allies and his enemies and his promises and all of his dead friends. I’m not saying he doesn’t have faults, but being “manipulative” is NOT one of them. Scott is kind because he doesn’t see the point in being anything else anymore.

[mxnkeydo]

so scarlet (it was maroon) ✧ sokeefe

✧ ship: Sophie x Keefe

✧ what to expect: it all went down went a book went soaring across the classroom but sophie never expects it to end the way it does. acrylic smeared on cheeks, pigment-stained clothes, and a whole keefe sencen later, maybe she never despised him as much as she thought she did.

✧ genre: romance, fluff, humor, sarcasm - enemies to lovers trope, human au, and a love triangle to torment you guys 😈

✧ word count: 2.1k

✧ warnings: swearing, verbal and physical abuse

✧ link to masterlist

✧ link to chapter seven

✧ A/N: This chapter might seem random but I promise it's headed somewhere just hang in with me! also, this chapter killed me to write but it was sm fun I hope ya'll like it!!

✧ taglist: @swans-chirping-in-the-distance @somerandomhuman080 @foxglove-and-foxfire-lover @carolineforbae

reblogs would be most appreciated! :)))

***

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Hi,” Sophie said breathlessly as Fitz looked up from his phone. Immediately, he broke into a smile and tucked it into the pocket of his jeans.

“Hey, Sophie,” he greeted her. As she sat down in the seat across from him, he pressed a kiss to her cheek. Normally, it would feel romantic, but for some reason…she didn’t enjoy it like she usually did. Sophie pushed that thought far behind everything else and looked around the cafe. The hustle was lesser and calmer than usual, just the way she liked it.

“Let’s order, yeah?”

“Oh…I already did. I got a black coffee, and for you, a venti caramel apple frappuccino. I thought you’d like it.”

“Oh. That’s–that’s nice.”

Sophie forced a grin, inwardly cringing. She hated anything apple flavored, and she had hoped Fitz would know what she liked by now, but–oh well. Everyone makes mistakes, right?

But then she thought about the times she and Keefe had gone to Starbucks, how he’d memorized her favorite drink word for word.

“I’ll have a java chip frappuccino,” he’d said once to the barista. “And for the lady, a triple venti, half-sweet, non-fat–”

“-Caramel macchiato,” Sophie had finished. “You remember?”

“Of course I do.”

And then she thought of the incident right before, caught in Keefe’s arms, making a fool of herself. Sophie always knew she was a klutz, but she never made it a big deal. So why was it a big deal in front of Keefe Sencen? And what exactly had happened in that moment? She swore something had been there between them, something in the way he looked at her, like– like she was truly someone worth noticing. 

“-Sophie? Sophie!”

Sophie startled, only to see her caramel apple frappuccino sitting in front of her, along with a steaming cup of coffee. She chuckled and gingerly took it in her hands, pretending to take a sip and then consequently tugging at an eyelash. “Sorry, I think I’m a little tired today.”

“No, it’s alright. I get it.” Fitz slurped his coffee loudly, gazing at her. “Sophie, do you love me?”

The question caught her so off guard, she almost dropped her drink. 

“What?”

“I said, do you love me?”

Sophie stuttered, searching for an answer that she liked and didn’t offend Fitz. An uncomfortable beat of silence passed before he sighed disappointedly and said, “Forget it.”

Love. Teenage romance was something else entirely, and in the movies it always turned out well. Reality, on the other hand, was a whole different story. Sophie liked Fitz – she liked him a lot. But she couldn’t say she loved him. Telling him that would mean lying to both him and herself, and that wasn’t fair to either of them.

“It’s just…I'm not ready yet. I need time.” Sophie set her drink on the table. “But I do enjoy spending time with you, Fitz.” Fitz smiled gently, but she knew it was forced. She gave him one back as she took another pretend-sip of the frappuccino

“So…how are you?’ Fitz asked to break the silence.

“I’m doing good,” she replied. “School’s been fine, the tutoring sessions from Keefe are really helping. What about you? I know the final exams are soon.” 

Was it just her, or did he stiffen up when she mentioned Keefe? Glancing up at him she noticed the tension in his shoulders, his clenched jaw. What was up with that? She made a mental note to ask Keefe about it later.

Sophie glanced at the wall clock in the cafe when Fitz wasn’t looking; the space between them was sensitive, and it was best if she got out of the situation as soon as possible. She waited through seven awkward minutes before saying, “Hey, could you excuse me? My family wants me at dinner tonight and I’m supposed to help make it, so…”

“Yeah. Of course.” Sophie waved and stood up, weaving her way through the round little tables until she burst out into open air. The first thing she did was drop that frappucino in the trash bin, breathing a sigh of relief as she walked to the park across the street that bordered a small reservoir. There was so much going on inside her brain, problems popping up one after another; her relationship with Fitz, whatever was going on with Keefe, not failing her art elective. If she thought hard enough, she could come up with multiple issues from every aspect of her life. But for now, she wanted to forget.

The park was empty, with only an elderly couple fishing near the water's edge. Sophie heard the old man laugh heartily as the woman tried operating the fishing rod to no avail, and the sound warmed her heart right to the core. She settled on a bench in the open sun, basking in its warmth. It cast its rays over her body, making her feel like she was wrapped in a blanket. It settled her restless thoughts, soothed her racing mind. Sophie looked out to the trees in the distance, the mountains far beyond it, and the sun slowly retreating behind them as the moon rose to its full glory. Sophie had always been fond of the crescent moon; it reminded her that even if she wasn’t whole and perfect, she was still beautiful. She was still enough. 

All that was going on with Fitz faded into the back of her mind while she counted the stars one by one. When that got boring, she made her way down to the calm waters and stepped out of her shoes to feel the sand settle between her toes. Cold, gentle waves splashed her feet, and the steady beat of it lulled her to sleep. Sophie thought about her curfew, how Grady would be so upset that she was out past eight with no special occasion, but she’d deal with that later. For now, she savored the calmness of her mind. It was just her and the universe, and everything else ceased to exist. For now, everything was okay.

***

The rose bushes surrounding the house were dead. They had wilted, their hue a deep, squeamish, reddish-black. Keefe crushed one of them in his hands, ignoring the sharp thorns that pierced the sensitive skin of his wrist.

He’d been pacing the backyard, waiting until his father went to sleep so he could sneak in, peacefully. Already, three hours had passed; he could probably grow a beard in the time Cassius took to go to bed. What was he doing anyway, a skincare routine? Keefe snorted softly at the image of his father carefully applying creams and serums to his face. 

Keefe let out a long breath as he crouched next to the rotten bed of bell peppers. His mother had tended to them when she was alive; he could vaguely picture her slim figure in the garden, watering the little plants she’d worked so hard to plant. She, too, wasn’t  the best mother – often, she’d forget he existed and act as if she never heard him, and she also believed he was a waste of space – but at least his father wasn’t as abusive when she was still there. It was her passing that had him falling into a pit of insanity. But whenever he used to try bringing up her name, Cassius would shut him down and lock himself in his room. Whether it was out of love for Gisela or out of frustration on Keefe, he never understood.

A chilly breeze danced across his bare arms, making a shiver run through his spine. The sun had already sunk three-fourths of the way below the horizon, and it really was starting to get cold. Keefe hugged himself, but it was no match for the winds. It may have been mid-spring, but it sure didn’t feel like it. The cold, paired with his racing thoughts, were enough to make him feel chilled to the bone.

He had no other choice. Keefe made his way to the front door and opened it with his spare keys, tip toeing inside with almost no sound.

Almost.

It was dark in the main hall, and he could barely see anything. Keefe patted the wall next to him, searching for the light switch. He felt his fingers brush against something cold and immediately pushed it, expecting the chandelier to light up, but instead all he heard was a deafening crash. Keefe grimaced and released a string of curses under his breath as he heard footsteps from upstairs. Even he didn’t know what was in store for him today. Cassius would probably go ballistic at the mess he had made. Keefe grimaced as he heard thundering footsteps approach him at a rapid speed.

“What the fuck?” Cassius growled as he switched on the light, eyes blazing as he eyed the broken vase at the house entrance. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, boy?”

“I- sorry,” Keefe whispered, locking his eyes on his feet. There was a tense silence before Cassius walked down the steps and walked towards him, grabbing the front of his t-shirt.

“Being the useless son you are, letting you live in this house was a mercy,” Keefe’s father managed to grit out. Keefe could basically see the steam rising from his ears as he continued, “I could have kicked you out long ago, boy, leave you out on the streets with the rats.”

“I’m your son,” Keefe whispered, his voice impossible hoarse but steady at the same time. “You would do that to your son?”

“You’re no son of mine!” Cassius slammed him into the wall behind him with great force, more than Keefe had anticipated. He groaned as he sank to the floor, thinking Cassius was off his back, but he yanked him up to his feet again. “You think you’re so smart,” he hissed. “When you’re nothing but a waste. You aren’t good for anything, are you? Useless bitch.” Cassius slapped him, jerking Keefe’s head to the side. He cupped his cheek as the sting reverberated through his bones. Instinctively, she shied away, leaning against the wall for support so his back wouldn’t hurt as much.

“Why are you doing this?” Keefe asked desperately, his voice ragged. “Is it because of Mom? Are you high?”

“Are you talking back, boy?” Cassius breathed, his eyes practically glowing his barely restrained fury. 

“Yes I’m talking back! Why do you hate me so much?” Keefe’s carefully built walls threatened to break, but he swallowed the tears and summoned his years’ worth of anger. “I have done nothing to you!”

“You’re a nuisance, that’s what! You’re nothing but a waste of space, and you’d be a fool to believe otherwise.” 

“I haven’t bothered you for anything. Anything. It’s like you hate me for existing!” Keefe yelled, raising his voice. His words echoed throughout the empty house. “And I’m tired of the shit you’ve put me through.” Keefe shut his mouth, waiting for a response - physically or verbally, or both. 

“You’re an ungrateful kid, you know that?” Cassius snarled. “I give you food, a place to live, and you’re complaining?”

“A real father would love me for who I am,” Keefe said firmly. “All I’ve ever wanted is your approval, for you to appreciate me and love me.” Keefe’s voice broke halfway, and he let out a strangled sob before saying, “Why is that so hard for you? Why can’t you just accept me?”

“Because who you are is a lazy, good for nothing bitch,” Cassius barked. “Other parents would do what I do too, if they had you for a son.”

“You’re only gaslighting yourself if you keep believing that.”

In a rage, his father kicked him in the shoulder with a grunt, smirking as he crumpled to the floor. “All I’ve given you, and you still want more. I advise you to shut your mouth if you don’t want any more trouble than you’ve already created.” And with that, Cassius marched up the stairs like he hadn’t just abused his only son. He was far beyond saving, Keefe realized. Nothing could change him now.

Even after his father walked away, Keefe sat on the ground in the exact same spot, panting and gulping for air. His back hurt, his arm hurt, his cheek hurt – hell, everything hurt. 

But most of all, his heart. It already had a few cracks in it, but now, Keefe felt like someone had ripped it out of his chest. He felt like it was being smashed into shards recklessly until it was so broken no one could ever put it together again. 

Its shattering was the loudest quiet he had ever heard.

[idy-ll-ique]

His Lovely Girl.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x F!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Requested: nope

Warnings: insecurity

Summary: Sebastian spoils her all the time. What has she ever done for him? When someone leaves a rude comment under her Instagram post, she can't help but rethink her entire relationship with the handsome actor.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! We're back to Marvel lol, enjoy!

---

"I'll see you later, dove, have fun!" Y/N grinned when her boyfriend leaned over, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Bye, Seb, I'll miss you," she whispered and he looked down at her, his heart swelling in his chest, full of appreciation for her. He loved her so much. "I'll miss you too, Y/N, but I'll only be gone for around 6 hours." Y/N pouted and he couldn't help it.

He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss. "I know. Go now, I don't want to be the reason you're late." He laughed heartily when she pushed him away with a smile. "Oh, doll, everyone knows about us, they'll know anyway." With that, he waved at her and left the apartment they shared. Y/N had moved in with him 2 years into dating.

Sebastian Stan; let's just say, he was a busy man. Y/N sighed and got up from the bed, feeling hungry. They had started dating 4 years ago, and what years those were; the most blissful ones in both their lives. They loved each other to death, and they knew that. Y/N waddled into the kitchen and looked around the various cabinets, finding a box of Mac and Cheese.

It was a funny story, actually, how they met. Y/N, at the time, was working as a barista at Starbucks. One day, Sebastian had walked into the Starbucks where she worked, and she was the one who took his order. He was extremely polite, funny and a bit awkward and just like that, she fell in love with him all over again. Y/N was a Marvel geek and Sebastian had noticed.

"I really like your hoodie, doll, where'd you get it?" he had asked her after telling her his order. And she had looked down, seeing the custom-made hoodie she wore. It was black in colour, but one of the sleeves was silver and had a red star on the bicep, just like his arm from the movie Captain America: Winter Soldier.

Bucky's trigger words were printed on the front of the hoodie. She had blushed furiously, simultaneously cursing and thanking her fate and coincidence. "I had it custom made," she had told him at the time and he had grinned so wide he thought his mouth would tear open. That was the moment where he, too, realized that he was getting a crush on the pretty barista.

And he hadn't hesitated to ask her for her number. He had taken a tissue paper, scribbled his number down and had written what's yours? ;) underneath. When he went to pay for his coffee, he purposely made sure that he wasn't giving her any change. With his notes, he slid her the tissue and she took it, giving him a confused look.

When she read it, her breath hitched. While pulling out his change, she had discreetly written her number down on the tissue, saved his on her phone and had given the tissue back to him with the coins. Both of them had grinned widely at each other when he left. While walking home, he had taken out the tissue and had seen her number written neatly under his. And his heart raced, Y/N is worth it.

---

*@yn_yln posted a photo*

4,583 likes

yn_yln Mac and Cheese, anyone? :D

Y/N smiled and logged out of her Instagram account after posting the photo. She just couldn't resist; she looked good that day, one of those days where she felt confident enough to post a picture. She kept her phone away and sauntered into the sitting room to watch something on the television. An hour passed before she yawned, feeling tired.

2:05 pm, her watch displayed. Well, there's no harm in an afternoon nap, am I right? Sebastian wasn't home anyway, and it's not like she had anything to do. Grabbing her phone off the dining table, she walked into hers and Sebastian's shared bedroom, plopping down on the bed. She decided to check her Instagram before falling asleep and opened the said app.

She went through the page that displayed all the likes and comments, pausing at one comment. Her heart dropped as she clicked on the comment, her entire being filling with an uneasy feeling. You're only dating him for the money, admit it. Until then, she had never even thought… about that. Throwing her phone to the side she sat up, breathing heavily.

Y/N was currently jobless. After they started going out, she continued working at Starbucks until last year; Sebastian had suggested that she leave the job and work somewhere better, earn a higher salary. Y/N had discarded the idea at first, since the job paid enough for her to go about her daily things and where would she even find another job?

Starbucks was okay. But Sebastian wouldn't hear it. So she left the job, now jobless. She had applied to a few places but hadn't received any news as of yet. They're right. I'm living off of him. I don't even have a job. What does it look like? A broke woman dating a rich, handsome guy? Oh my God, am I leeching off his hard work? All those thoughts rushed through her head in a span of a few seconds.

The more she thought about it, the more she teared up. Blinking the tears away, she lay back down and curled up under the comfortable blankets. His blankets. She closed her eyes, trying her hardest to fall asleep but the tears were proving it to be difficult. Fortunately, she drifted off into an uneasy slumber 15 minutes later.

---

"Baby, I'm home!"

Silence. Sebastian frowned, carefully walking into the house. "Y/N?" he called out but there was no answer. Keeping the bag he was holding away, he walked further into the apartment, stopping at the doorway of their bedroom. "Aw," he whispered under his breath, smiling, stepping into the bedroom. He gently sat next to his sleeping girlfriend.

His knuckles traced her cheeks but he froze. Why is she so cold? His soft touch was enough to wake her up, because she stirred and blinked up at him. "Seb, hi, welcome back." Her voice was hoarse. "Y/N? Did you fall sick?" he asked worriedly as she sat up, distancing herself from him. "I'm not sick," she muttered but Sebastian wouldn't buy it.

He reached out to cup her cheek, feeling like he had been stabbed multiple times when she leaned away from his touch. "Y/N?" She shook her head and looked out of the window, bringing her knees to her chest. "Just wanna be alone right now." She didn't want to send him away. She wanted to sit in his lap, listen to him rambling about his day…

But she also didn't want to be near him. Do I even deserve him? "What happened?" he insisted, his eyes going wide when she glared at him. "Go. Away." He scrambled off the bed without another word, softly closing the door behind him as he walked into the sitting room, running a hand through his hair. He sat down on the couch and looked around.

What happened in those 6 hours that he was away? Sebastian knew she wasn't on her cycle, it still had another week to come. So it wasn't mood swings. His eyes landed on the empty bowl of Mac and Cheese sitting on the dining table but they skimmed right past it, not knowing that that bowl was the reason for Y/N's sadness. Then he stared at the designer handbag on the opposite couch.

Picking up the bag, he strode back to their room, knocking on the door. Maybe seeing a pretty purse would lighten her mood? "What?" Y/N called out from inside and he opened the door, holding the purse up. "I brought you a gift." Y/N's heart started thudding in her chest and tears glistened in her eyes anew as she stared at the bag with utmost resentment.

"I don't want it."

Sebastian went rigid. She never rejects my gifts. "Y/N—" She started shaking her head. "No. Return it. I'm not taking it. I don't want it," she repeated, her glare now directed at him. "But doll…" he tried, freezing when her jaw clenched. "Get out." Disheartened, he walked out once more, more confused than anything. Now I have to know what happened.

Inside the room, Y/N sobbed silently. The bag was so pretty, her favorite color, the sleek design… she wanted to keep it so bad, but she knew she wasn't worthy of it. Sebastian brought her gifts all the time. Most of them expensive as shit; he had the money to blow off. What had she done for him? Nothing, really. He spoiled her heartily, never once allowing her to do the same.

"You're mine, baby girl, mine to love, mine to cherish, mine to spoil."

She was definitely leeching off him. Outside the room, Sebastian took out his phone and texted Y/F/N, who was Y/N's closest friend. They rarely spoke, but Y/N told Y/F/N everything and he knew she'd have answers.

hey, do you know what's up with y/n

why what happened

she's in a really bad mood

she's angry at me and I brought her a gift but she won't take it

she usually loves them but today…

OH WAIT

I know what happened

she texted me in the afternoon

something about a comment on Instagram or something

ig that's why she's in a bad mood

oh

thanks

I'll check it out

He ended the conversation and opened Instagram, seeing a new post from his dear girlfriend. Sebastian couldn't help but smile as he liked the photo, commenting a heart emoji. There were only around 22 comments on the post, so he decided to go through them. Which comment had triggered her? He found it instantly and his nostrils flared.

Replying to the fairly rude comment, he typed, how about you fuck off and mind your own damn business? If you don't like her, unfollow and leave. There's literally nothing else you need to do. After hitting send, he kept his phone away and, determination shining in his eyes, ran back to the bedroom.

He threw open the door and a sob escaped the lips of the startled woman. He started taking off the annoying clothes he was wearing until he was just in his boxers, sliding into the bed next to her. She attempted to push him away but the strong man didn't budge, holding her on his lap as she thrashed. Soon, she gave up the fight and melted against him, crying her eyes out.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again and again, her breath hitching. "Hush, baby, it's okay, I'm not mad," he whispered, rubbing her back, helping her calm down. She rested her head on his shoulder, her arms tight around him. "Tell me the truth. What happened?" he asked even though he knew the answer. Tiredly, Y/N narrated everything; from the comment to all her insecurities.

Sebastian gently cupped her cheeks, wiping her tears off. "Y/N, you're mine. I love taking care of you, I love spoiling you, and I don't do it because I expect something in return, I do it because I love you. Don't listen to strangers on the internet, what better work do they have? Nothing but lowlifes. You don't have to do anything for me. I don't want you to do anything for me."

"But Seb…"

"No. No, you're my girlfriend and only the best for my girl. I love all the gifts you get me. I cherish them wholeheartedly. Just you being my girl is a gift better than anything else in the world, to be honest. But I'm going to continue looking after you whether you like it or not. You don't even have to go to work, I'm here for you. I love you." Y/N teared up again.

They were happy tears.

"I love you so much," she cried weakly and Sebastian pulled her to him, cradling her head, breathing her in. "I love you too, doll. Now will you take my gift, please?" She nodded against him and he gently lowered her on the bed, going outside to get the bag. Once back in their room he handed the bag to her, smiling at the way her eager hands reached up to accept the gift.

As he watched her admiring the bag, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, till death do them part.

His girl, his lovely girl.

---

A/N: Leave a like if you enjoyed, thanks for reading!

[wolfstarlibrarian]

Morning my lovely! I was wondering if you knew of any fics where one of our gorgeous boys thinks he’s straight until he meets the other and has a gay crisis? :)

Thank you so much friend for using the term "gay crisis" over "gay panic" which has quite a terrible history for the queer community. It's taken a while to pick some favorites, so if anyone else has different ones that they love, please feel free to reblog with your recs too!

Gay Awakening with Wolfstar

Unknown Pleasures by @kattlupin

With the war intensifying around him Sirius starts to question what the point of all of this is. It just takes an Order mandated shelter-in-place with Remus and his kind words, magical plants, and good home cooked meals for Sirius to finally realize where his heart lies and that there are reasons to continue to fight.

Now I Wanna Be Your Dog by @remus-john-lupin

Sirius clunks about in his Doc Martens and listens to The Stooges and smokes cigarettes and wears his hair much too long and spends more time serving detention than not. And is way too forward about his sudden feelings for Remus. (A story about teenagers and summer love in the 70s.)

Domestic Creatures by @veeagainsttheday

Growing up is hard to do -- but the journey is better if you take someone with you.

Reeled by @quoththethestral

Remus decides to finally spend a summer day with his childhood best friend, Sirius, after not seeing him for three years. But when old feelings quickly start to resurface, Remus is left feeling like no time has passed at all.

Shackle Me by @elixirsoflife

Soulmates aren't nearly as romantic as you think they are. Sirius knows.

Let Nothing You Dismay by @montpahrnah

There are a few things Sirius really didn't count on for Christmas of 1979. The extreme sexual confusion is one of them; Remus Lupin is approximately seventy-eight of the rest.

Sweet Nuthin' by @kattlupin

When the summer between third and fourth year begins, Sirius expects it to be nothing but lazy days, harmless pranks with James, and the occasional meet-up with the rest of his friends from Hogwarts. Those plans go out the window rather quickly when he gets a sudden glimpse of Remus Lupin, a mysterious boy who changes everything about Sirius Black's life and shows him that love will always win in the end.

A Safe Place by @remuslives23

Someone is determined to see Remus Lupin, Head of the Dark Creature Legislation and Control Department, dead. Auror Sirius Black is assigned to protect him and in the process, both men find something they never expected.

Heat the Winter Floods (part of The Flatmates series) by @daphnaea

It was funny, Sirius thought, the things you could fail to learn about your best mate despite sharing a dormitory for seven years.

The Boy in the Bordello by @yumenouveau

Regency Era - London- Sirius has spent the last five years starting a new life for himself as a brothel worker until late one night a stranger enters his room wanting only to talk.

The Hot Barista + Sequel by @tonftyhw

Remus is a tired, hardworking Starbucks barista, and Sirius is a Hot Topic cashier. Slowly, but surely, the two find themselves falling for each other.

A Dance Move Too Complex by @comrades-in-barnes

“He’s trying to find me a girlfriend,” Remus admits. Lily immediately snorts at the prospect, but then, when turning to say something, she sees his face. What he looks like he can’t be sure, but it’s bad enough that she stops herself and says, “No, you're serious? He’s really… Wow, boys are stupid.” “Lily.” “Right, no, sorry. Just. Why does he-?” “It’s a long story.”

This is You and Me by Children_of_the_Shadows The first time Charlus Potter met Remus Lupin, he was reminded of a past he was trying to forget. The first time Dorea Potter met Remus Lupin, she was reminded of her own limitation. The first time James Potter met Remus Lupin, he was indifferent. The first time Sirius Black met Remus Lupin, he threw a punch to his face.

Highland Fling [+podfic] by @picascribit

2004: The summer before college, Sirius goes backpacking through Scotland in order to escape his family's expectations. In a small village in the Highlands, an unexpected flirtation turns his whole world upside down. Alternately, the story of how Scotland loves Remus and wants him to be happy.

take me as I am by Judeyjude, Shira_a

Sirius is a sleep demon who gives nightmares to humans. Remus is an insomniac with hallucinations. Unstoppable force, meet Immovable object.

[ginkgomoon]

I Like You A Latte- Gavin ☕️

Happy blog birthday to @cheri-cheri. Another gift would like to present itself to you! 💙

“The exam is officially over,” you sigh.

All those years of studying and recurring late nights pouring the blood, sweat and tears for you push towards the finish line were all worth it.

You are now free.

Kind of… but not really.

For once, you were outside not catching the train to go university, heading off into another library or exam room. You had thought to savour this rare time to yourself before heading off to find a job. Thankfully, public transport is convenient enough to take you just about anywhere in Loveland City.

With only your phone, wallet and keys in hand, you stroll along the all too familiar building blocks near your home, pondering on where to go for the long awaited first day out by yourself. Should you go for some udon? Bingsoo? Pudding, perhaps?

While breathing in the sweet air of freedom, you admire the city that you grew up in, absorbing the view from down below and up at the infrastructure that the city was so renowned for.

The height, distance and those buildings haven't changed. But you- the stages of your life, experiences and perspectives have. The city almost seemed a little bit more… brighter. More alive. Or maybe… would it be for just this once?

This, you fear.

The glare of the sun continues beating down, its light reflecting off the glass buildings passing its judgement on the entire city. The heat is suffocating and you long for a cool drink or nice air-con to rely on to keep you sane.

A vision suddenly intrudes, presenting the clean pastel coloured store-front of the café that had just opened up nearby. You remember that you had power-walked right past the “WE ARE OPEN” sign on your way home from a past exam to prepare for the final one a few days ago.

You know you rarely enter any cafés at all, but your love for coffee and urge to explore someplace new begin to steer your legs into the walking direction of where you had remembered it to be.

As you soon reach the entrance, the sign you saw from the peripheral of your memory greets you.

“BRUNCH CAFE. WE ARE OPEN.”

You push open the heavy glass door, instantly entering a world of relief. Still in between the two opposing temperatures, you hastily swing the door back and encase yourself in paradise.

You take a moment to briefly scan your surroundings. The café, although it claims to be open, has everything but the barista. It wasn’t as big as the Starbucks down at the shopping centres, but it was humble enough for its size and able to fit all the requirements a café needs.

Soft instrumental music starts to reel you in further, like a siren hypnotising a sailor. You feel... peaceful. Though you wonder if you were hearing the non-diegetic music of the film occurring right in front of your eyes instead of your almost-dream café.

The minimalist designs, the ambience, and the extremely posh and elegant windows that you didn’t admire enough the first time strikes your appeal. You also confirm with yourself that this was the café that you would choose to break the cycle of drinking instant coffees everyday.

Just this once.

On the left side, those posh windows were flaunting on display, and to the right had little cubicles laid out perfect for providing spacious privacy. You marvel at what a genius idea the store owner had to create such a comforting and unique interior for a café. There was not a thing out of place.

Except of course, the barista.

You head over to where the cubicles were waiting and as you turn into the corner, you almost trip over something that looks like… a foot?

Following the coffee-stained sport shoes, your eyes slowly drift up on its owner, locking on a sleeping figure on the seats of the cubicle.

A young man with a soft aura.

You squint in confusion.

The poor cubicle clearly wasn’t big enough to fit his entire body. His hair seems to have fallen into place like dominos having slightly covering his eyelids, and appears to be breathing in a gentle rhythm with his chest following in sync. Your eyes also end up emphasising his jawline as you continue to stare.

His chest- wait.

A little badge on the right corner of his shirt immediately becomes the salient object.

So, he is the barista.

Barista… Gabin?

You lean closer at the words printed out on it.

No, it’s Ga-vin.

Apart from how attractive he looks, you question yourself- why is the barista sleeping during opening hours?

The man’s eyes slowly crack open, like a shell opening to display the pearl from inside, and you finally see his eyes of beautiful amber squinting back at you. Though, you can’t tell if it was because of the bright lights inside the cafe, or if he was solely observing you- and why you were so close to him at this very moment.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” you cry, instantly retracting from your forward-leaning position. Your brain tries to racks up reasons why you two were in this situation incase he asks.

“There was something on your face” or “your foot was in the way” could work. No- “sorry, I’ve never seen another human being before” sounds a lot more believable.

Gavin, the barista, furrows his eyebrows in confusion then seemingly in frustration.

Your body tenses.

It’s coming.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep…” he sighs softly.

You do another quick scan and take that only the two of you were in the cafe now, unless there was another sleeping barista somewhere else you didn’t notice.

“If you're here for coffee, it’s on the house. An apology for what you saw just now…. Just don’t tell the boss if he’s here,” Gavin lightly coughs.

“Oh okay... Thank you. A latte please,” you say, rather not wanting to question it further. For now. But free coffee made by this gorgeous barista? How could anyone refuse this offer? All you did was stare. In that case, you would gladly do it again.

You settle your belongings on the table and catch Gavin rolling up his sleeves, putting on the display of his toned forearms. Luckily, your cubicle entrance was facing the direction of the workbench allowing yourself to watch him set up.

You start to wish for your coffee to be as hot as him.

Scalding hot.

Gavin steadily handles the jug and effortlessly pours the milk into the latte glass with the espresso already inside. Despite your sight of his expertise, he still can’t hide the subtle droopiness of his eyes and the slight furrow of his eyebrows again.

You figure it would be better if you come up to him instead so he wouldn’t have to travel the whole way to your cubicle with his current state being like this.

You gingerly make your way to his workbench while fumbling for a topic to break the awkward silence in your head.

“Is it just you working here today or…?” you ask.

“Is there another hot sleeping barista I should know about?” you continued in your head.

Gavin hands you the transparent cup accompanied by the saucer, a little spoon, a packet of sugar and a complimentary ginkgo-shaped cookie on the side.

The art displayed formed a symmetrical heart with perfect one centimetre foam to present the perfect latte.

“There’s the chef who’s actually the boss of this place but sometimes he dashes in and out. Especially when there’s no customers as of late. I have no idea where he goes, actually. Right now is no exception,” he replies, sweeping the remains of the coffee grounds into the knock box.

“And you do all the work for him? That doesn’t seem fair. Does he allow you to make your own cup of coffee at least?”

“Well, not exactly. I just work over-time till late. Plus, I think my body is practically immune to caffeine by now,” Gavin laughs.

"Me too," you comment.

As tired as he looks, he still has the energy to light up a smile, even with a stranger. His mouth forms an effortlessly handsome arc and you feel something emerging from within your heart, so subtle that you almost think that you could have mistaken yourself as the protagonist in a romance novel.

Though working overtime till late… at a brunch cafe?

You don’t question him any further. You take a whiff at the single delicate-looking plain ginkgo cookie and have a bite. This moment of peace and serenity was offering the much needed break from all that tension and pressure you were under- apart from Gavin being here, though he didn’t seem to mind your presence.

You lean forward to place your elbows on the counter and stare at the coffee in front, frowning a little at the reality of ruining the beautiful heart. You rip open the sugar and pour in half, then give it a stir with the spoon. The foam is perfectly silky and frothy, fusing with the crema like a starry galaxy.

You remind yourself that "it was okay" because this moment would forever remain in your own heart instead. Delicious, creamy arabica coffee.

Like those ginkgo leaves dancing in the wind that autumn day.

You smile at the memory before multiple begin to overlap with another. Ones where you had passed by the senior classrooms catching a glimpse of a boy staring out of the window or down in a random alleyway on your bicycle.

You didn’t think much of it back then either, but he had always looked familiar and seemed to be everywhere you were too. Crossing paths in hallways and even at the library, reading. That upperclassman boy named-

“-Gavin?”

He looks up.

“From school?”

You wonder why you hadn’t realised.

His facial features are now more defined, sharper, and still a head taller than you. Who would have thought the hot barista was actually an old schoolmate. You put your coffee down and internally scream.

“You remember me?” he softly asks.

“Just a little bit. Wait, do you know who I am?”

“Just a little bit.”

Gavin smiles.

You break eye contact and continue drinking, not wanting the coffee to get cold during this exchange. But even now it tastes different than before.

“So, what brings you here?” he asks.

“Taking a break before I find a job. See if any place will accept me…”

“Of course they will. You’re brilliant at what you do. I have no doubts that you will be successful.”

You smile in response, taking in the last of the remaining coffee.

“How do you know? We haven’t seen each other in so long. And I don’t think we’ve ever interacted this much in the past."

“I just do… Trust me.”

You look back up. His eyes light up with so much sincerity that could power a whole entire city’s electricity.

"I never thought I'd see you again," you say.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. You seemed like... you were just so difficult to figure out, especially for people like me who don't know you that well. So I never gave it a second thought either. And now here you are, making my coffee. Anyway, this is probably not making any sense..."

"No, I understand," Gavin states. "In your opinion... what kind of man am I?"

Before you could formulate a proper response, hot heat suddenly finds its way in, corroding with its cooler counterpart and signalling the entrance of another person.

Your eyes catch sight of a tall and handsome man, his aura so dominating that the heat you feel could just be from him instead.

“That’s the boss,” Gavin whispers.

The boss saunters his way in straight towards you two. His black hair matches his suit and tie, making him appear more like a CEO than of a chef.

“Don’t worry, I’m just going to the back to restock some things, I’ll be right back,” Gavin says, shooting you a comforting smile.

While trying to process all of this, your eyebrows are the ones to furrow now instead. How could this boss treat an employee like this? Working overtime without proper breaks? This to you was appalling and certainly see this as an act of injustice. Being the good and lawful citizen that you are, you decide to treat this like one.

“Excuse me.”

Before he enters the kitchen, he turns, offering his full attention to you. You thought you had a good grasp on what you wanted to say, but it seems that your head had disconnected from your voice box.

“Your employee…” you begin, “he seems very fatigued. I think you should be sharing the workload equally instead of leaving the cafe. Haven’t you ever heard of a collegial workplace before?”

His eyebrow lifts- in amusement, mockery or consideration, you don’t know. After all, your words carrying the “sense of justice” did sound a lot better in your head.

“I don’t interfere with anyone’s personal lives,” he said, his deep voice shattering your “prosecution”. But before you could have another go at him, he retreats into the kitchen.

Gavin returns with takeaway cups and lids and sees you standing flabbergasted at your interaction with the boss.

“You okay?”

You reply back with a little “humph” at the direction of the kitchen then turn to Gavin restocking the items on the cup warmer of the coffee machine.

"I-it’s nothing."

After all, this was your first and last time here, and maybe you shouldn't have acted so impulsively on a situation like this. Plus, how would Gavin react if you push the topic further?

You sigh. Hopefully the plan to have a drink and catch up with an old friend later in the night will settle the agitation you feel.

A soft ding is heard from your phone reminding you to get ready to leave.

Perfect timing.

As you reluctantly pack your things, you glance at Gavin’s way, who looks like he’s about to end his shift for the day as well.

You don’t want to be supporting a business owner who treats his employees like this, but yet seeing Gavin this way made you feel helpless. It’s a shame that you won’t see another handsome barista like this again. Or see him again. Or probably enter another cafe at all after this.

“I have to go.”

Your voice interrupts his workflow, and he frowns.

“Now?”

“I have somewhere to be, unfortunately.”

Gavin takes a moment to process this.

“Why don’t you wait till I leave? That way, I can see you off. It will only be a minute.”

More like a minute's time to sob about this man who could have been your boyfriend in a parallel universe. But as long as you won’t be late to meet up with your friend, you agree to wait for Gavin to finish up.

You linger by the entrance, not wanting to intrude his workspace again and steer clear from the awkwardness that could arise from watching him up close.

But after that literal minute, he steps outside with you and the heaviness in your heart starting to simmer back up again. The air already seems to have to cooled down, providing a thankful comfort to your surroundings.

Looking at him now, you almost change your mind. You could maybe see him again when you have time in the future. To... catch up.

Just maybe.

“Thank you for today," you say. You remind yourself to not get too attached, having really not know if you would be ready for all of that, especially for what was to come in the future.

You slowly walk backwards into the direction of your home, back where you need to get ready for the night out again.

“Thanks for coming. It was nice meeting you again,” he replies.

As you turn to leave, in your peripheral vision Gavin tracks forward to cover every step you took away from him, pulling a hesitant arm up to say something more.

But by then, you were already turning the corner and out of sight.

-And after all this time, your thoughts keep returning to those moments.

A couple of hours pass and your mind still orbits Gavin and that café. You wonder if there was something more you could have done or said. Hopefully he didn’t mistake your hurried steps for something else.

You soon arrive at the venue that you and your friend unanimously agreed on, though as you tippy-toe your way through the crowd to spot her, it seems that she hasn't arrived at the agreed time yet.

As you wait, you fiddle with the side of your dress. You decided to go with the classy minimalist look- a black dress and simple ginkgo drop earrings you bought recently. You didn't want to draw any attention to yourself, but you were satisfied that you were well-dressed enough to feel glamorous for the night. However, wanting to avoid the additional heat of the weather sticking on your body like a tattoo, you decide to head in first.

The music gradually becomes clearer and definitely louder as you weave your way through the hallway entrance towards the heart of the club, with the lights dimly lit and its walls enclosed for the darkness to rule.

You haven’t been in a place like this for so long, especially when you got used to the quiet and calm environment of libraries, the home, and the café earlier…

You could feel everyone’s body heat from a good healthy distance away, even at the seat of the bar. You don’t plan on getting drunk tonight, but you know your alcohol tolerance is so low that you figure it would be best if you should order a little fruity mocktail first instead then perhaps have a real drink with your friend when she arrives later.

You give a quick text notifying her of your location and place your phone back into your purse, ready to order.

Darkness continues to stir as you struggle to locate the bartender.

What kind of bartender is this person if they’re not at the bar?

Lights rotate and blind its way in every direction. For a fleeting second, it lands on the person across from you, illuminating those unforgettable eyes and smile of its owner.

His eyes are just as wide as yours.

"It's you."

The barista- no, bartender, was Gavin.

[pixiegrl]

I’ve Got The Recipe

Michael keeps going back to the same coffee shop and no, it has nothing to do with the cute barista.

Or 3 times Michael went to Luke's coffee shop to see him and 1 time Luke visited Michael at his job

This is for @redrattlers! Happy birthday darling! You're a sweetheart and lovely, fellow Luke fan and Muke lover. It's been a pleasure getting to know you and getting to hang out with you in The Club. I wish you the happiest of birthdays and the happiest of years! Enjoy your day you deserve it!

On ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29146482/

It starts on a Wednesday. Michael’s bored, scrolling through his phone at the front desk, trying to avoid doing work. He knows he should go shelve some books, or do a lap around the library to check on things, but he can’t focus on anything. He’s trying to kill time until it’s acceptable for him to go on his lunch break and grab something to eat or drink.

“Oh god, I found the perfect drink for you,” Calum whispers next to him, tugging lightly on Michael’s sleeve. Michael frowns, glancing over at Calum, getting a phone shoved into his face in response. Michael pulls his head back, grabbing onto Calum’s wrist and trying to adjust it so he can see the screen better. It’s an instagram post on Calum’s feed, advertising a coffee from the local coffee shop. The caption claims that it’s a vanilla rose latte. Michael hates that Calum knows him well enough to know that Michael will 100% drink anything with floral flavors in it.

“Don’t act so disgusted,” Michael mumbles, shoving Calum’s phone back to him. Calum laughs.

“It’s just weird that you want to put florals in your coffee. It tastes like soap.”

“It does not. Stop insulting my taste,” Michael says, voice rising a little bit at the end of the sentence. He ducks his head when one of the reference librarians looks over at them. Calum raises his hand in apology, turning to face Michael.

“You like weird coffee. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Just thought you might be interested. It’s that new place too. Down the road.”

“Is this your way of trying to bribe me into getting us sandwiches from the Vietnamese place for lunch?”

“Pretty please?” Calum says. Michael sighs, pretending to be put out.

“Fine. Text me your order. I’ll swing by. You owe me dinner though,” Michael says, standing up. Calum brightens up, smiling. Michael heads into the back, clocking out for his break and telling his supervisor he’s going to grab lunch. They nod, waving him out when Michael grabs his bag from his little station and heads out to his car. Michael calls in their lunch order from his car and decides to stop and grab coffee first on his way there.

Luckily, the coffee shop is a quick drive. Their town is small enough that everything sits within a ten minute drive of each other. It makes it easier to pop out and grab lunch on the days he’s too lazy to make it. Michael knows where the coffee shop is, even if he hasn’t been yet. It’s only been open for a few weeks and everytime he and Calum mean to go, they get distracted and go somewhere else or forget. Today though, Michael is determined to get his rose coffee from this place. 

Michael parks in the lot, grabbing his wallet from his backpack and leaving his car, locking it behind him. He pushes open the coffee shop door, relieved to see it’s still empty and quiet inside, little bell over the door jingling. 

A tall blonde man, pops his head out from behind the back area, grinning widely when he sees Michael.

“Hi! What can I get you today?” he asks, coming up to the counter, beaming. Michael’s offended that the barista is pretty and therefore, Michael has completely forgotten his order. It’s not his fault the guy is tall and blonde, with blue eyes and dimples, curls pulled back into a messy bun. His name tag reads Luke. Michael doesn’t stand a chance.

“Um, I saw your post. About the vanilla rose latte. Do you still have it? I know it’s been a few days.”

“Yes! You’re the first person to order it. I got these little sample bottles of different flavors, but so far no one has asked for it,” Luke says, beaming widely as he grabs the bottle and holds it up. Michael blushes.

“Well, I’m your guy. My friend teases me endlessly about the fact that I like adding weird flavors into my coffee.”

“You’re just the kind of guy I need then,” Luke says, winking. Michael blushes. He’s never going to be able to come back here.

���Can I get a small?”

“Sure. Regular milk fine?”

“Yeah,” Michael says. Luke rings him up, rattling off the price. Michael swipes his card, signing on the screen as Luke starts to make his drink.

“So, do you work around here?”

“Yeah, I work down the block at the local library at the front desk. Wanted to stop in on my lunch break.” 

“Well, I’m glad you stopped in. I can finally tell Ashton someone likes my drink, ” Luke says, moving around behind the counter. 

“Ashton?” 

“My partner. Business partner. I am very single,” Luke rushes out, blushing red and turning his attention to the coffee. Michael blushes too, worried he’s been caught out staring at Luke. Just because he's a pretty guy and Michael never gets the chance to see anyone under the age of 60 who isn’t a child doesn’t give him the right to stare at Luke. 

“Well, it’s a good thing you have him,” Michael piped up, blushing harder when Luke glances at him over the espresso machine, smiling. 

“Yeah. He’s a wonderful friend. Terrible coworker,” Luke says. Michael laughs, earning him a wide grin from Luke. 

“Well, here you go! One vanilla rose latte! You’ll have to let me know how it is,” Luke says, sliding the drink across the counter. Michael takes it, sipping from it. 

“Good. The rose isn’t too overpowering. Just the right blend,” Michael says. Luke beams and it fills Michael’s chest with a flare of something. He checks his phone, swearing when he sees the time. 

“I gotta go, break’s gonna be up before I know it. Thanks for the drink Luke,” he says, turning to the door. Luke calls out a goodbye behind him as Michael rushes out so he can get their sandwiches on time and make it back to work. 

Michael manages to make it back to work on time with enough time to finish his sandwich. The coffee sits with him the rest of the afternoon, keeping him warm and reminding him of Luke’s smile. Maybe Michael will have to go back more often for coffee from the shop. 

***

Michael lasts about three days before he goes back. It’s late Saturday morning and Michael’s finally dragged himself from his bed and his apartment to run errands on his day off. Well, run errands once he gets some coffee, which has nothing to do with wanting to see cute barista Luke again. Even if Michael’s foregoing Starbucks and Dunkin’ just to go out of his way for Luke’s little coffee shop. 

Calum has teased him endlessly for the last few days about it. All it had taken was Michael mentioning that maybe the barista was cute and Calum had lost it. He keeps teasing Michael about going back just to see Luke or making dumb coffee puns for flirting. Michael’s relieved that Calum’s working today, so he can go to the coffee shop without being teased for it.

The shop is empty when Michael shows up. Granted, it's mid-morning but it’s still a Saturday. Michael was expecting a least a bit of a crowd. Not that he’s complaining. More personal time with Luke. Which, maybe Michael shouldn’t be thinking like that about the barista.

Luke’s behind the counter already this time, head popping up when he hears the bell ring. He beams widely when he sees Michael, bouncing on his heels.

“Hi! Vanilla rose guy!” He says brightly, waving as he does so. Michael blushes. 

“Michael. It’s Michael. Only fair since I know yours,” Michael says, embarrassed immediately. Luke smiles, dimples popping on his cheeks. 

“Nice name. Now I don’t have to call you vanilla rose guy. Ashton was starting to think I made you up just to prove my drink idea was good.” 

“All real. Just back for more coffee,” Michael says. Luke’s got his hair down today, curled around the base of his neck as he grins. He has butterfly wing eyeshadow on today, orange and blacks swirled together and drawn on. It’s so enchanting, Michael can’t take his eyes off of Luke. It’s distracted him completely from placing his order, going red when he realizes he’s been standing here for a few minutes in silence, staring at Luke. Luke giggles, tucking a curl behind his ear.

“So, coffee?”

“Yes. Coffee. The thing I am here for. What flavors do you have today?”

“Vanilla, hazelnut, mocha, raspberry, caramel, and the rose one. A few other floral flavors. Nothing too exciting.” 

“Will you combine something?” 

“Oh?”

“The mocha and the raspberry. In a small iced coffee.”

“Oh! Yes! That sounds really good actually. Why didn’t I think of that?” Luke says, grabbing a cup and spinning around to start making it. 

“I just like weird flavors is all.” 

“Not that weird. Sounds pretty good. Maybe you should work in the coffee shop, not me.” 

“Nah. They need me too much at the library. Who else is going to help stressed parents find the last copy of Frozen or show someone’s grandma how to use the computer?” Michael says. Luke laughs, pouring coffee from a pitcher into the cup. 

“Well, I’m sure you’ve saved many a tired parent whose daughter wants to hear Let It Go for the 100th time. Are you on break today?” 

“Day off. Wanted to run some errands while I’m alone, but figured coffee would be a good place to start. Library can survive without me for two days.” 

“What if someone needs the last copy of Frozen?”

“Calum can help them for a day,” Michael says. Michael likes working and living with Calum, but he likes the misalignment of their off days. Michael usually gets Friday and Saturdays off and Calum usually gets Sundays and Mondays. It gives them a few days to breathe without each other and it means that for a couple days, they get to alternate who cooks instead of them rushing to finish cooking one meal together. Michael has to go to the grocery store after this to get the ingredients for cheese quesadillas, his promised meal for the night.

“Calum?”

“Co-worker. Roommate. Pain in my ass.”

Luke giggles, shaking his head and sliding the coffee across the bar, “Well, I’m glad you get the day off, so you can come visit me and get coffee. You certainly keep my day interesting and exciting.”

“You’ve met me twice,” Michael says, taking the coffee and biting at the straw. 

“Yeah, but you have the most interesting coffee orders. Who else would think to combine chocolate and raspberry? I didn’t.”

“I’m just a librarian with terrible taste.”

“Hey, no mean talking about yourself. You have interesting and exciting taste. How’s the coffee?” Luke asks. Michael takes a sip. It’s good, rich without being overpowering, the raspberry a subtle aftertaste in it. 

“It’s good,” Michael says. Luke beams, smile lighting up his whole face with cheer.

“Good! I’m going to put it on my February drink list. It’ll be a good drink for Valentine's Day.”

Michael checks the time on his watch, frowning when he realizes how late it is, how much time he’s spent here with Luke chatting. He really needs to get to the store so he can buy food and start cooking. He was supposed to clean the apartment too today. Calum’s gonna chew him out if he doesn’t at least get something done because he’ll certainly realize Michael went to get coffee and he’ll mention Luke again.

“Do you have to go?” Luke asks, voice sad. 

“Yeah. Gotta go buy dinner and then cook it. My turn to cook for the evening. Perks of having the day off.”

“Well, thanks for coming in again. You should come back when you have more time.”

“Don’t you have to work?”

“I’m co-owner. I can take a break to talk to my favorite customer,” Luke says, resting his elbows on the counter and grinning, leaning forward just a bit. It gives Michael a good view of his collarbones where the collar of his shirt dips low. Michael swallows, mouth dry.

“I have Fridays off. Maybe I’ll come in next week.”

“Please. I’ll try to come up with a drink for you to try,” Luke says. He smiles, biting the corner of his lip as Michael walks towards the door. He walks into a table nearby, stumbling when he’s distracted by Luke and blushes as he darts out the door. God, maybe one day Michael will stop making a fool of himself in front of the cute barista.

***

It’s been almost a week since Michael went to the coffee shop on his day off and he’s been psyching himself up to go back. He’d gone a couple other days during the week on his lunch break again, but Luke hadn’t been there. Instead, Michael met Ashton who had raised his eyebrows and gone “Oh you’re Michael,” causing Michael to blush and avoid the coffee shop for a few days to get over his embarrassment. 

It’s Friday though and Michael can’t deny that he wants coffee. He wants coffee and he misses Luke and he wants to go in anyway. So, Michael sucks it up, puts on his best jeans and nice t-shirt and brushes his hair before going on his mission for coffee. He brings a book with him this time, promising himself that he’ll sit around and actually spend time at the store.

He gets lucky today, pushing the door open and seeing Luke behind the counter, humming along to the pop song on the radio as he dances around behind the counter. He brightens up when he sees Michael, grinning and waving, curls falling into his eyes.

“Hi Michael! It’s been a few days. Ashton mentioned you came in a couple times.”

“Yeah, I needed my coffee fix. Kept missing you though.”

“Yeah, it was a weird week for me, but I’m here now. I know it’s your day off and I couldn’t risk missing you,” Luke says, earnest. Michael blushes.

“Well, I brought my book with me, so I can hang around for a bit today,” Michael says, holding the book up.

“Lovely. I’m here all day for coffee while reading needs. What can I get you?”

“Caramel vanilla iced coffee. The larger size,” he says. Luke nods, going about making the drink.

“You must know some good books, being a librarian. You get to see all the new releases.”

“Most of them are those cheesy romance novels. So if you like reading about running away with a duke, I’m not sure what I can recommend. Unless you like horror novels.”

“I like fantasy. And mystery novels.”

“You should read A Cosmology of Monsters. It’s mystery and fantasy with a dash of horror. A good twist. I read it in one night,” Michael says. Luke hums, snapping the lid onto the cup.

“I’ll have to give it a look. What are you reading now?”

“If We Were Villains. Murder mystery novel, very who done it. But they’re theater students, so it’s an interesting read. Even though it’s very predictable.”

“Well, don’t tell me! What if I decide to read it?”

“Hey, I’m just giving you the plot summary. I just think it’s a little predictable,” Michael says, taking his coffee. Luke rolls his eyes.

“Well, take your coffee and your spoilers and go read your book. Don’t give it all away.”

“Aw, you’re no fun,” Michael says, teasing. He takes his cup, finding a table in the corner and sitting down so he’s facing Luke. Usually, Michael wears headphones and listens to music while he’s reading, but this time he doesn’t, preferring to keep them in his bag, so he can talk to Luke. It works, Luke commenting on the music playing over the coffee shop speakers or asking Michael for his opinions on muffins. Eventually, he takes his break, coming to sit across from Michael with two muffins, blueberry and chocolate, and his own cup of coffee to share with Michael. They exchange stories about their families and their jobs, until Luke has to go back to work and Michael realizes he has to head back home to finish cleaning and start on dinner. Luke looks a little sad to see Michael go, but he waves him goodbye as always, sends him off with a couple of chocolate chip cookies he’s made for Michael to take back to his place. Michael tries not to read into it too much, that the cute barista is giving him baked goods and hanging out with him and that Michael has spent a whole afternoon with Luke. He knows Calum is going to tease him when he goes home with the cookies, that he spent the whole day with Luke, to the point he’s running behind on his chores, but Michael thinks it was worth it to get to spend some more time with Luke and his curls and his laugh and his dimples. It’s always worth it to spend time with Luke and getting to see his smile.

***

It’s Tuesday and it’s boring. Nothing ever happens on a Tuesday. Which, sometimes is nice at the library. Yesterday, Michael had to deal with telling someone who was watching porn to get off the computers and arguing with a mom that no they didn’t have a movie in stock and no, Michael can’t go to another library to get it for her. It had taken Michael’s supervisor to step in and take over before the woman finally got it and left. Michael likes his job but god, does he hate people sometimes.

Calum’s been put on shelving today, leaving Michael alone at the front desk. He’s resisting the urge to spend the chair around in circles to combat his boredom. He could probably read a book or do something else productive, but Michael can’t get away with reading at the front some days and if he pulls his phone out, someone will probably walk by and comment on it.

Michael’s in the middle of making faces at Calum across the way when the doors to the library slide open and it pulls Michael’s attention over. He’s startled to see that it’s Luke coming through the doors, cheeks pink from the wind, and carrying a cup of coffee in his hands. He looks nice today, now that Michael can see his whole outfit. He looks nicer than he should, wearing leather trousers, heeled boots, and a leather jacket over a plain black shirt. He has no right looking this nice at a public library. Michael can’t physically take it.

Luke spots Michael, eyes lighting up and face breaking into a grin when they make eye contact. He makes a beeline for Michael. Michael looks over at Calum, frantic. Calum raises his eyebrows, mouth forming an “o” as he watches it all unfold.

“Hi. So this is your natural habit,” Luke whispers when he gets to the front desk.

“Here it is. Me and all the grandparents and small children.”

“Should I leave and come back so I can watch your heroics in action?”

“Could be awhile. Slow day today it seems like.”

“Too bad. You sold me on you being the big librarian hero.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Never,” Luke says, grinning. 

“Can I help you find something today?” Michael asks, figuring he should redirect them back to the fact that Luke’s at his place of work and eventually his boss will ask if he’s goofing off.

“Actually, I wanted to bring you a treat. You keep coming by my place of work, so I wanted to come visit you. Return the favor.”

“I come to your place of work to buy coffee. My work is pretty boring.”

“All I do is make coffee. You get to help people all day and see all the kids. I’d call that exciting.”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” Michael mumbles. Luke stands there, cocking his head to the side watching Michael. It reminds Michael of a puppy dog staring at him. Michael glances at the clock on his computer, figures it’s close enough now for him to take his break and talk to Luke outside.

“Let me punch out for lunch. We can sit outside on the bench and talk,” he whispers. Luke nods, heading off to the outside to wait for him. Michael darts to the back, letting his boss know so someone else can go sit at the front. Michael makes a point to avoid looking at Calum as he leaves.

Luke’s sitting on the bench by the door, ankles crossed and coffee sitting next to him. Michael crosses over, taking a seat next to Luke, who beams when he notices Michael. 

“I was worried about coming to see you at work, but I thought it might be nice to bring you an afternoon pick me up. Mid week blues are always the worst.”

“Thanks. I need this. What’d you make me today?”

“Mocha with caramel sauce and coconut milk. I remember you ordered it last time. Thought you might like the sweet and warmth today.”

“I do. How do you know me so well?”

“Perks of being a barista. Good at reading people,” Luke teases. Michael huffs, closing his eyes as he takes a sip of the drink, humming his appreciation when he gets a taste of it.

“Good?”

“Just what I needed. The best yet.”

Luke claps in excitement, curls bouncing with him. Michael takes another sip, closing his eyes again to savor the taste.

“How much time do you have?”

“Can probably get away with 15 minutes before I should head in and actually eat my lunch.”

“Tell me how your day’s been going,” Luke says, turning to face Michael. His face is earnest and open. Michael blushes, launching into a story about trying to run the children’s reading group this morning. Michael would take any kid over their parents anyday. The parents are the kicker, always trying to one up each other to prove their kid is better. Michael gets so lost in the story, caught up in Luke’s laughter and snorting that he doesn’t realize how much time has passed until he catches sight of Calum waving at him through the door.

“Shit I gotta go. Breaks almost up,” Michael says, rushing to stand. Luke looks crestfallen and a little sad.

“Oh really? I didn’t realize how much time had passed. I’m sorry.”

“No, no it’s not your fault. I need to get better at time management. You always distract me,” Michael confesses, blushing a little at the admission. Luke blushes too, cheeks and nose a little red.

“Well good. I like being a distraction. I mean...hmmm...you know what I mean,” Luke says, blushing harder.

“I do. Thanks for the coffee. I’ll come by the shop tomorrow?”

“Yes! I’ll be there. Enjoy the coffee Michael,” Luke says, waving as Michael rushes back in. 

“Have fun with Lukey?”

“Shut up. Which of us got free coffee?” Michael says, sticking his tongue out and holding out the cup for Calum to see. Calum squints, leaning in to look at the cup.

“Oh shit,” Calum whispers, pointing at the side of the cup. Michael turns it around, eyes going wide when he notices the handwriting on the side.

“You really grind my beans. Text me- Luke,” the handwriting says, a number written out next to it.

“You have to text him,” Calum hisses.

“I cannot.”

“Do it! The cute barista came to visit you at work and gave you his number! He wants you to visit,” Calum says urgently. Michael looks at the writing, brow furrowed. It’s impossible for Luke to like Michael, but this says otherwise. Maybe Michael should take his chances and text Luke. See what happens.

(It gets him a date on Friday with the prettiest blonde barista in town. It gets him breakfast on Saturday with the same boy. It gets him a cheeky grin from Calum when he goes home Saturday night, covered in hickies. It gets him a boyfriend, who brings him coffee on his lunch breaks with silly little coffee puns. It gets Michael happiness.)

[melyaliz]

Remember me pt 6

Master List

Fandom: My Hero Academia 

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x OC 

Notes: No idea what to say sooooo.... Enjoy? 

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive​

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

DONATE or REQUEST

-0-0-0-0-0--Bakugou--0-0-0-0-0-

During the last of their three-day stint, Kirishima had joined Bakugou to finish up a few things in their office away from home. After spending the morning in briefings both heroes were grabbing some lunch before heading back to the hotel.  

  The 100-degree weather that had graced the October sky had finally broken and many of the employees of the large building were outside enjoying their lunch in the shade. Just glad to get out of the cramped offices to enjoy some pleasant weather. 

  One of them was the Starbucks girl. 

  “Dude, isn’t that band you like?” Kirishima asked elbowing his best friend in the side, making Bakugou grunt with annoyance. 

He had noticed her when she had come out. Holding a bag and talking to that same guy she had done the presentation with. Today she was dressed in a cute leopard print skirt and a black band tee. The words Gojira sprawled across the front, below it was a black and white image of a large whale leaping up from an ocean. 

  “Yeah” was the simple response as he dug into his chicken burger.  

  “So do you need me to go over and say hi or are you going to actually go over there and talk to her?” Kirishima asked nonchalantly as he took a bite of his food. “Or are you just going to keep checking her out like you have been all week?” 

  Bakugou coughed slightly, eyes wide as a rush of anger came over him. First off, there was no possible way he could have been checking at her all week seeing most of the week he had been miles away dealing with earthquake relief. And second, he was NOT checking her out! 

  “I don’t need your help asking a girl out!” he snapped before grabbing his plate standing up. Sometimes Kirishima’s pushy personality was so annoying. Walking over to the table the young woman was sitting at he sat down

  “Nice shirt” 

  “Do you like Gojira?” she lit up as he spoke to her as she put her phone away. That was a good sign. 

  “Yes.” 

  “Have you seen them in concert?” 

  “Yes.” 

  She nodded, “Me too, it was probably one of the best. It was Knotfest and some guy broke his nose in the mosh pit.” she paused stumbling over her words slightly before looking at him, obviously unsure what the Japanese word would be.

  “Moshpit,” he said nodding 

  “Oh ok, it was a lot of fun.” 

  “You don’t look like the kind of girl to like Metal,” Bakugou said studying her. While he had only seen her around a few times she always seemed very put together. Dressed in bright colors normally very girly looking with her purple ombre and perfect makeup.  She chuckled awkwardly, putting some hair behind her ear. 

  “I don’t listen to it on the regular but the best concerts I have been to are Metal ones. What bands do you like?” 

  “The classes are a good go-to, Metallica, Iron Maiden, even Slayer, but I like Meshugah and Lamb of God too,” he said sandwich forgotten. At the time he hadn’t noticed it but he found talking to her so easy. Her questions always open-ended, giving him a reason to tell her about himself. Something later on he learned to really appreciate. She had a way of really listening to people and asking just the right questions to get what information she wanted. 

  “Oh Lamb of God is insane. They aren’t really as heavy but I have a soft spot for Mastodon.” 

  “Their drummer is pretty good.”

  “Do you play drums?” she asked, cocking her head to one side, catching his comment. 

  “No, I just like songs with good drummers.” 

  “I’m here for a good drum solo” she nodded, “I always wanted to play but I’m also super uncoordinated.” 

  “It’s not that hard,” Bakugou said picking up his sandwich again taking a bite as if he was making some sort of point. 

  “How are you enjoying San Diego?” she asked following his social que and taking a bite of her salad. 

  “Well, I spent most of it in a pit.” 

  “Oh true, well at least you have a few days off, anything planned?” 

   He shook his head trying not to think about the fact that she had noticed him around too. Well, they did have that conversation two days ago at Starbucks.

  “Well I recommend trying a California Burrito or any Mexican because you are here. Beaches are pretty, OH! Actually you and your friend should go to Hodad's, it's kind of a San Diego staple. What do you like to do?” her words coming out in a rush of excitement.  

  He shrugged, “I mostly work and train at home.”

  “There are some nice hikes by the beaches.”

  “You like the beach?” 

  “Yeah why?” she blinked, confused by the sharp question. Trying to think why he would be asking her that. 

  “You keep bringing it up.”

  She giggled shrugging, “The ocean cleanses you. It’s calming. And I’m sure you need to relax after saving the world.”

  “I’m not saving the world just your border.” 

  “Well, it's some people’s worlds you are saving.”   

  “I guess” he shrugged unsure what to say. She was right of course. That was his job. To save people’s lives and in a way their worlds. 

  Another lull and she poked at her salad taking a few bites. It was then he realized he didn’t know her name. Assuming it wasn’t Grape. But he had no idea how to ask.

  “Ground Zero,” she said slowly, “Do you prefer that, or your name?” 

  “You can call me Bakugou.” 

  “Thank you” she paused for a moment, “You can call me Olive.” 

  “I thought it was Grape,” Bakugou said, deciding now that he knew it wasn’t Grape, he could poke a bit of fun at her name and their last encounter. However Olive seemed unphased. 

  “Oh yeah!” she burst out laughing shaking her head, “It’s kind of a joke between me and the Starbucks barista. Every time I go in she comes up with a new food name for me.” 

  “That’s stupid, why not just use your name?” 

  “ Why else does anyone do anything? Because it makes us laugh.” 

     -0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  Olive had fallen asleep hours ago but Bakugou couldn’t seem to drift off. With her body curled up next to his was just too much. After everything they had been through, knowing how much farther they had to go. All he wanted to do was pull her to him. Kiss her. Feel her around him. Remind her how much he loved her. How he could make her feel. Show her just how much he loved her. 

  It was like his body on was on fire having her that close. 

  He couldn’t take it. 

  Getting up he slowly disappeared from the bedroom going into the personal gym that was on the far right end of the hallway. If he couldn’t sleep at least he could work out. Starting with a low run on the treadmill he placed his headphones in letting the music pound through his ears. Angel of Death by Slayer blasted in his ears as he took to a fast run letting his feet rush forward. Pushing, fighting through whatever burning frustration that was trying to consume him.  

  Control, he just wanted something he could control. 

  He was lifting weights when he felt her presence. Turning he saw her standing in the doorway watching him rubbing her eyes. Arms wrapped around herself, her dark hair messy from sleep. It made his heart skip at the sight. Like some stupid highschool girl. 

  “Why are you up?” she asked blinking owlishly at him.

  “Couldn’t sleep, just go back to bed.” 

  Guilt was written all over her face. She was biting her top lip studying him unsure what to do. He had seen that look before. The one where she was trying to decide to just leave it or force him to open up to her. 

  Letting out a long sigh he sat up wiping away the sweat from his face. “Just go back to bed, I’ll be right there.” 

  “I… ok” she said, slowly walking back to the bed. 

  After a quick shower, Bakugou went back to the bedroom to find Olive sitting up fighting sleep worry still etching on her features. “Oh stop it” he chastised, rubbing his still wet hair with a towel. Throwing it into the basket he crawled up into the bed next to her. She watched him as he settled in before finally speaking.  

  “How… how do we normally sleep?” she asked, determination in her voice. A force of nature. He knew that voice. She wasn’t a pushy person but she was a fighter. She was stubborn in her convictions and would do whatever she could to fix something. When they would fight he would scream and yell and she would just sit there arms crossed until he was done and then ask what needed to change. What needed to be fixed. 

  “You are basically on top of me” he admits knowing she will know if he is lying. Not that he ever would. He wasn’t a liar, and even if he was he could never lie to her. 

  She giggled at that nodding. “Eliott used to say I would chase him around the bed.” she was too tired to try and cover up his name. Dance around it. 

  “Yeah,” Bakugou nodded, laying down on his side. “I don’t mind.” it was more of an invitation. A prayer. He wanted to feel her in his arms again. Feel her legs tangled up in his. They used to end up in the strangest positions all twisted up so in the morning he wasn’t sure where she would begin and where he would end. 

  Scooting up Olive curled up into his chest. Her soft smell filled him. Sweet and clean like the color pink and summertime at the beach. Sugar covered fruit and cool water.  Gently he ran his callus fingertips over her arm. Enjoying the feeling of her smooth skin and for a moment he forgot she didn’t know him anymore. That it was just another late-night cuddle session that he was being (not so) begrudgingly forced into. 

  Bakugou woke up to his alarm going off. Letting out a soft moan he stretched, feeling his wife’s body cuddle closer to him. Her arm draped over his chest. Looking down he couldn’t help but smile running his fingers through her hair letting the dark black and rainbow colors play as they fell onto her back. 

  She stirred at the sound of his alarm mumbling as she reached out feeling his body under her fingers. Letting out a content sigh she pulled herself closer only to then have her hand move slowly up his torso feeling his taut stomach and abs. 

  Letting out a squeak she jumped away, eyes adjusting as she fully woke up. Blinking at him as if looking at a stranger in her bed. 

  Which, -he painfully reminded himself- he was. 

  “Morning,” he grumbled slowly pulling himself out of bed. She watched him for a moment pulling herself together trying to piece together reality from whatever dream she had been waking from. She had never been a morning person. Lilly had jokingly called her Zombie Olive, warning Bakugou that she wouldn’t be fully coherent until at least 2 hours after she woke up. 

  “Morning Katsuki,” she said hesitantly, “did you sleep ok?”

  “Yeah, you?” 

  “I made a few mistakes,” she smiled at him, jumping out of the bed almost tripping over the sheets that were tangled around her feet. He turned fighting back a smile. 

  She was still there. Slowly but surely cracking open. 

  After doing their morning routines the couple reconvened in the kitchen. Bakugou whipping up some eggs with furikake. 

  “So what are your plans for today?” Olive asked, taking a bite of her food watching him as he plated his own breakfast.

  “Just work, I’ll be back late” 

  she nodded, “I’ll probably call Lilly and then read my books,” she flashed him a toothy grin, “I need to know what ideas I have written and what I need to get back into.” 

  “Good luck with that,” he said “I think it was a Western.” 

  “Oh really?” 

  “You don’t talk too much about your stories but you did tell me that.” 

  “Do you read them?” she asked her face slightly flushed at the thought. While she was fine with strangers reading her slutty stories she had always found it hard to have people she knew read them. It was just kind of weird. Like her stories were a different person, not really Olive. Which was why she used a pen name, Delilah Flint.” 

  “Not really,” he wanted to add that he had the real thing. The woman behind the stories was always up for an adventure to try new things. Why would he want to read about some dirty cowboy plowing his soulmate - or whatever - when he could just do it himself? 

  Not that there was a lot of that going on right now though. 

  -0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  The office was a bit busier than he remembered. 

  “Morning bro, how’s Olive?” Kirishima asked, holding up some files as Bakugou walked into their agency. Well, it was Bakugou’s agency but Kirishima shared it because they worked well together and figured why not. 

  “Not crying,” Bakugou said, “she seemed excited last night to read her stories since she couldn’t remember them, something about reading them for the first time.” 

  Kirishima chuckled, “Maybe we should have her meet Deku again, start that over again.” 

  Bakugou frowned at the memory. They had met at a UA reunion almost year after Bakugou and Olive had started dating. Olive had been drunk and Deku had found it hilarious to poke fun at Bakugou. Telling the first girl Bakugou had ever been interested in, about Bakugou's very angry childhood. Unfouranity for the previous number one hero he didn’t realize that Olive was a mama bear when it came to the people she loved. And even if they were in the wrong no one spoke poorly about them.

  “Oh by the way.” Kirishima said, handing him some files, “We got statements from the police from the robbers. Apparently that third guy… he only spoke English.”

  “What?” 

  “Yeah, the one who hired them only spoke English. I thought it was weird since…”

  “Olive was the only one who lost her memory?” 

  “Her and the guards but theirs was only for a few moments.” Kirishima paused looking at the files that were slowly starting to smoke in his best friend’s hand. “Hey man… uhhh do you want me to take those?” 

  Bakugou felt a rage wash over him. Was this an attack on Olive? There was no way. How would someone even know she was at the mall? There had been a witness who had told the police she had helped a mother and two kids get out before running back to try to help someone else. But that was it. He had just assumed that she had run into the thieves and since they couldn’t lay their hands on her due to her quirk they used a memory wipe. 

 His phone dinged breaking through his thoughts. Turning he noticed that Kirishima was holding the files waving them, the edges singed slightly.  Glancing down at his phone he noticed it was the very woman he was thinking about. 

  Olive: "Hey do you know what my computer password is?" 

  Bakugou: Doley11 

  Olive: You're the best thank you!!!

  He frowned looking down at the phone then shot back another text realizing something. She didn’t know anything, 

  Bakugou: We have an alarm system in the apartment so don't leave I'll show you how to use it when I get back

  "Ok"

  Bakugou: And the stove can get tricky so call me if you need help. 

  Bakugou: Actually my assistant's name is Kygome. 

  Quickly he texted off his assistant's number 

  Bakugou: If you can't figure something outcall her if you can't reach me 

  Bakugou: But text me first 

  Olive looked down at her phone as the slur of texts came pouring in. From the few days, she had known Katsuki she could tell he was a man of words and less emotions (except for annoyance, he seemed to have that in spades)  but… this was kind of cute. He was worried about her. 

  But also what had she done before to warrant this kind of worry? She was a bit of a dumbass, sure, but also-- he needed to relax. 

  Olive: Thank you, I'm in the computer now and lucky me I still label my password doc the same so I should be good as for everything else I'm tough I got this!

  Settling in she pulled up the document titled “Dragon Dick FINAL” this looked promising. started to read. 

  Meanwhile, Bakugou was working with his team about maybe taking a few days off. The thought of leaving Olive alone not knowing anything starting to get to him. He needed to make sure she was safe first. He could work remotely for a few days. Besides if this guy really was after his wife he needed to make sure he kept her close. 

  He had already failed her once. He wasn’t going to do that again. 

-GET TAGGED-

Master List

Story Tag: @0hmydeku @inumorph @it-jinxed-us @myraticm

[cool-chick-c-c]

prologue: 1-800-DATEME

summary: remus meets a cute boy at a coffee shop. you know how this one ends.

pairing: pre-romantic intruality

word count: 471

cw: intrusive thoughts (mild violence, sexuality)

taglist: @rosesisupposes @acanvasofabillionsuns @art-chive @nobodyw8s4evr

It’s cloudy. It’s the perfect weather for a murder. It's the perfect weather for running around outside without caring about who's looking.

No one's looking anyway, but they don't think about that either. It's eleven p.m., and Remus is bored and not tired at all.

There's a Starbucks on the corner. It's open 24/7. 

That's new, they think.

Remus doesn't like Starbucks (too many choices, none of them fun), but they go in anyway.

It's full, and everyone looks bored. The barista massages their temples when they see Remus, and they're almost about to walk out again when they see someone sitting at a table in the very back.

Remus smiles and walks up to the counter. "One of everything in a grande cup."

The barista blinks at them a few times. "Anything else?"

For you to lick it off me. "No." They raise their eyebrows and smirk.

The barista rolls their eyes but gives them their order without complaint, and Remus locks their eyes on the person they spotted earlier and walk confidently towards them. The person doesn't look up, not until Remus is already seated with them.

Remus puts their elbows on the table and stares at them intently. They tilt their head and blink.

"Hi." The other person smiles. "Is there something on my face?"

"If there were, I would've--" Eaten it. "--said something. I just wanted to talk to you."

“I'm Patton!” The other person laughs. “He/him.”

“Remus." He looks covertly around the room. "Like penis. They/them.”

Patton smiles when he hears it, and Remus’s heart skips a beat. They wonder how many skips it would take for them to die.

“I don’t think a lot, actually.” Patton places his arms on the table.

“Ooh, you’re actually listening to me! That’s new.”

“Aww, you’re giving me too much credit. I just like new people.”

"And you listen to them! And don't screw them over!"

"I might. You don't really know me, Rem."

Remus swings his legs. "I want to."

"Then let's talk." Patton looks at the cup and smiles. "Right?"

"Right!"

And they talk. They talk until it's midnight and they barely remember why they came here, until nothing matters but the two of them. Until Patton glances at his watch. 

“Oh! Looks like we’ll have to cup this one short!” He giggles. “That was fun, Remus. You’re fun.”

He almost trips over the carpet as he rushes out the door, and Remus smiles. Someone actually likes them.

Does he? He didn’t just want to get away?

Remus imagines smashing a hammer on Patton’s face, and they regret it immediately.

“Well, I like him!”

It's twelve hours and five hours of sleep later that they call Jekyll and tell him about it. 

For once in their life, Remus wants to keep a secret.

[queertazsecretsanta]

A gift for @deadbonessinderhellaton, created by @cryptid-cryptonomica!

~~

Aubrey knew perfectly well that she got herself in this situation. She knew exactly why she was jammed in the back of Ned’s Lincoln with Dani and Jake. She knew that she’d be pressed against the window for an entire hour. Now, she was going to have to deal with the consequences.

She didn’t know why Jake had insisted on Dani sitting in the middle. Dani was taller than him, so logically, she should have had a side seat. Aubrey also didn’t know why Jake was wearing a shit-eating grin when he suggested it. Dani was too nice to refuse.

The road to Snowshoe wasn’t in the best shape. There was uneven pavement and potholes everywhere. Ned also seemed to manage to hit every single one. Each time, it would jostle Dani into Aubrey. A few times, Dani had to grab Aubrey’s shoulder in an effort to prevent herself from flying forward.

Aubrey was, in the nicest way possible, dying. Her crush on Dani was something that she was trying to hide, but she felt like she was being incredibly obvious. She hadn’t spoken a word since she entered the car out of fear of stammering or slipping up. She just looked out the window and tried to keep her face from getting red.

Unfortunately, Dani began to talk to Aubrey. She leaned over and whispered, “So, why are we here again?” into Aubrey’s ear.

“I just wanted a pumpkin spice latte,” Aubrey said, trying to not sound miserable. “And then you said you’d never had Starbucks so we had to fix that. Then Jake said he wanted Starbucks as well.”

“Is Starbucks really that good?” Dani said.

“No,” Aubrey said, “I just really wanted a pumpkin spice latte.”

“You convinced Ned to drive for an hour just so you could get a latte,” Dani said.

“I am very persuasive,” Aubrey said.

“And why is Duck here?” Dani said.

“I’d also like to know that,” Duck said from the front seat.

“Because!” Ned said.

“Because what?” Duck demanded.

“Just because!” Ned said.

Duck turned around so he was facing the back of the car. He glared at Aubrey, “This is your fault.”

Aubrey gave him the thumbs up and a sheepish smile, “It is.”

Ned hit a pothole. Aubrey felt like he did it on purpose this time, because Duck hit his head on the roof of the car and Dani nearly collided with Duck. Aubrey reached out, wrapping arms around Dani’s middle and steadying her.

“Thanks,” Dani said, a smile on her face.

“No problem,” Aubrey muttered back.

“Can you fucking learn how to drive?” Duck said, whirling back around.

“I don’t think so!” Ned said cheerily. Duck glared at him. Ned ignored it, and just said, “We’re almost there!”

Aubrey looked out the window, and saw that she could see the Starbucks from here. The parking lot was practically empty. They would most likely be the only customers in the store.

Ned pulled in, and they all filed out of the car. Aubrey stretched as she got out, and then extended her arms to point at the Starbucks sign, “Welcome, my friends, to Starbucks.”

“I expected something fancier,” Jake said.

“Yeah,” Dani said. “Like? Stain-glass windows and gold-leaf.”

“It’s a coffee shop,” Aubrey said, dropping her arms.

“Yeah, an expensive coffee shop,” Dani said.

“Indeed,” Ned said.

“Okay, but it’s also a chain restaurant,” Aubrey said, “It’s not going to be like a five-star cafe.”

“Ahh,” Dani said.

“Can we just get coffee, please?” Duck said.

“Alright,” Ned said.

They filed into the shop. Aubrey immediately bounced over to the counter.

“Hello, welcome to Starbucks, how can I help you?” The barista said.

“Hi!” Aubrey said, “Can I please get a grande pumpkin spice latte?”

“Sure thing,” the barista said. “Anything else?”

Aubrey waved Dani over. Dani nervously shuffled over. She looked up at the menu, clearly intimidated.

“What can I get for you?” the barista asked.

“Um,” Dani looked up at the menu. She turned to Aubrey and whispered, “There’s so much?”

“She’ll have the grande berry hibiscus refresher,” Aubrey said.

“And the names?” the barista said.

Aubrey gave the barista their names. She noticed that they spent more time on Dani’s cup than Aubrey’s. Aubrey didn’t bother commenting on it as she paid.

They stepped over to wait for their drinks. Once they got them, they found a table. Aubrey happily sipped her drink as she watched the rest of her friends order.

Duck just looked tired when he slid into the booth. He took a long drag of his drink before he said, “Why do they have more than one blend of coffee?” He didn’t give them time to answer. “Who needs three different kinds of coffee?”

“I don’t know?” Aubrey said.

“Like? What the fuck is a blond coffee?” Duck said.

“It’s Elle Woods,” Ned said, sitting down next to Duck. Aubrey looked at Ned’s drink. It was an unholy bright pink colour.

“What did you order?” Aubrey asked as Ned swirled the straw around.

“It is a vanilla bean frappe with raspberry syrup and dragon fruit,” Ned said.

“It hurts my eyes to look at,” Dani told him.

“It hurts my soul to conceptualize it,” Aubrey said.

“It tastes quite good, if you were wondering,” Ned said.

Jake finally joined them, also holding a pink drink with a mountain of whipped cream on it. It was less pink than Ned’s.

“Strawberry frappe?” Aubrey asked.

“I like it because it’s pink,” Jake said with a nod. He sat down next to Dani, and then said, “What’s that on your cup?”

“Huh?” Dani said, turning the cup around. “Oh.”

Aubrey looked over. In neat handwriting on the cup was a phone number, with the message call me written next to it. Aubrey tried to suppress her jealousy. It wasn’t Dani’s fault that she was absolutely gorgeous.

“How do I explain that I don’t have a phone?” Dani said.

“Just ignore it,” Aubrey said, a little harsher than she intended.

“It feels rude to just… throw away the cup,” Dani said.

“It’s unprofessional,” Aubrey said.

“Quite,” Ned agreed. “They should have asked you directly for your phone number.”

Dani laughed, “I don’t think that’s professional, either.”

“I suppose so,” Ned said with a shrug.

“Here, Dani,” Aubrey said, changing the subject. She handed over her drink, “Try some.”

“Does it taste like coffee?” Dani asked, wrinkling her nose as she took the cup.

“No, it tastes like sweet,” Aubrey said.

Dani took a sip, and made a face. “It tastes like coffee.”

“Oh,” Aubrey said, taking the cup back. “I don’t think so.”

“I like mine better,” Dani said, “It actually tastes like sweet.”

“Let me try,” Aubrey said. Dani slid the drink to her. Aubrey had a swig of it. Dani was right. It was incredibly sweet.

“What did you get?” Ned asked. He had an expression on his face that made Aubrey a little uncomfortable. She couldn’t exactly place what it was.

“The berry hibiscus,” Dani said, “That’s what you called it, right?”

“Yeah,” Aubrey said.

“Oh?” Ned said, a grin spreading on his face. “Did Aubrey suggest it?”

“Yeah?” Dani said.

“In Victorian times, giving a hibiscus meant that you were acknowledging the receiver’s beauty,” Ned said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Aubrey felt her face flushing. That was why Ned had a shit-eating grin on his face. She tried to subtly flip him off from under the table. Ned gave her a smug wink.

“Neat!” Dani said.

“Why do you know this?” Duck said.

“I’m gay,” Ned said, as if that were an answer enough.

“You certainly are,” Duck said, sounding tired.

“Somebody has to be,” Ned said.

“You’re literally sitting at a table of gays, my dude,” Jake told him, before he took a long sip of his frappe.

Ned rolled his eyes, “I’m the supreme gay.”

Jake looked offended, “No way! You don’t get to claim that title.”

“I do believe that I do,” Ned said.

“Dani, I’m more gay than Ned, right?” Jake said.

“Sure thing,” Dani said, noncommittally.

Jake and Ned continued to bicker. Duck nursed his coffee and tried to mediate.

Dani looked on with a smile. She leaned over to Aubrey, “Starbucks isn’t really that good.”

“Not really,” Aubrey said. “Sorry.”

“Nah,” Dani said, “It was worth it.”

“Yeah?” Aubrey said.

“Yeah,” Dani said. “Definitely worth it.”

“Why?” Aubrey said.

“I got to spend time with you,” Dani mumbled, looking away from Aubrey.

Aubrey smiled. “I feel the same.”

Dani smiled back, and leaned on Aubrey. “Let’s never come back here.”

“Agreed.”

[generallynerdy]

Captain Americano (Steve Rogers X Barista!Reader)

Summary: Steve Rogers is a man of habit-- same place for morning runs, same coffee shop afterwards, same order. Maybe the reason he takes such a habit to his coffee habits is because of the person behind the counter.

Requested by @pearlll09 whom i love: Hey! I hope you're having a good day! I just wanted to request a Steve/Reader where reader works at a Starbucks and Steve keeps coming in after his runs and always ends up ordering from her. You can take that in any direction you want, Idc. Thanks! You're so nice :)

Key: (Y/N) - your name, (L/N) - last name

Warnings: exercise

Word Count: 1,300

Note: pearl i love you and thank u for this request it’s so good!!! have my shitty pun for a title

Steve Rogers was well known for his work as Captain America, but those living and working around the Lincoln Memorial and Capitol Building knew him better for his morning runs. He was up before the sun and only stopped a while after it rose. He ran every morning, except for Sundays and a few days in between, which was when many assumed he was out with the Avengers.

It wasn’t rare for the captain to stop at a Starbucks a few blocks down from the Lincoln Memorial, either. Eventually, it became part of his routine, too. He would order his coffee and sit down to read a newspaper. The cafe was about to get rid of their little newspaper stand by the door, seeing as they had TVs anyway, but decided against it once they noticed the captain was actually using them.

He came in at the same time every morning, which meant that he saw a lot of the same workers. Most of them called him Captain or Cap, but some of the younger ones called him Mr. Rogers out of shyness.

One employee in particular was (Y/N) (L/N), who always happened to be working the front whenever he walked in. They knew each other pretty well, to the point where (Y/N) knew his order by heart. After all, the captain was a man of habit.

Steve Rogers stepped into that Starbucks one morning, by himself as usual, and approached the cash register, pulling out his wallet in preparation.

(Y/N) appeared from the back, cheery as she told a newbie to stop staring.

“Morning, (Y/N),” Steve smiled at her as she approached.

“Good morning, Cap!” She said with equal amount of fondness. “Same as always or are we feeling adventurous today?”

He shook his head. “You know me. I’m sentimental.”

“One Captain Americano coming right up,” she teased. She’d started calling it that after she realised that it was his regular order. “Good run today?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

“You know,” she hummed, leaning onto the countertop. “One of these days you’re gonna get tired of the sunrise.”

He laughed and waved her off. “I’ll never get tired of that view. The sun peeking over before any cars are even out of the driveway? Best thing in the world.”

“I’ll take your word for it. I barely get up early enough to get to my shift on time as it is,” she joked.

The teenage newbie behind her cleared his throat and passed up a steaming cup of coffee. ‘Cap’ was written on the side in messy handwriting, like it always was. The newbie almost shook as he gave the man his coffee, making (Y/N) shoot both he and the captain an apologetic glance. Steve grabbed it, nodding his thanks.

“Hope you don’t mind being a guinea pig,” (Y/N) commented. “Newbie hasn’t made one of these yet.”

Steve shrugged and gave the kid a reassuring grin. He took a sip of the drink and didn’t wipe the smile off his face. “Even better than usual,” he complimented.

The kid walked away with a skip in his step, leaving (Y/N) behind to laugh. “That’s gonna be a story for mom, huh? Captain America said I make great coffee!”

Steve laughed with her before lifting his coffee to thank her. “See you tomorrow.”

“Have a good one,” she said, waving as he left.

“Captain America said I make great coffee!” The newbie fawned the second the captain was gone, practically shaking where he stood.

(Y/N) ruffled his hair fondly. “Yeah, yeah. Still got a few hours to go, so don’t get cocky, kiddo.”

When Sam Wilson came along, Steve didn’t change his routine. He ran the same as he always did, passing Sam repeatedly during morning runs. “On your left,” he would say. He never stopped.

After a week or so of the two men running together, Sam finally asked where he went after he was done for the morning. Steve couldn’t wait to show him. He didn’t know why he was so excited about showing him a little Starbucks on the corner of a narrow street, but he realised it the second they walked in.

He spotted (Y/N) behind the corner, passing a little old lady her tea and wishing her a good day.

“This is it, man? A coffee shop?” Sam scoffed. “I thought you went somewhere super secret or something.”

“Nope,” Steve grinned.

They approached the counter and at the sight of Steve, (Y/N) instantly brightened. “Morning, Cap,” she said before noticing Sam. “Oh, hey, you brought a friend.”

“Sam, this is (Y/N),” Steve gestured. “(Y/N), Sam Wilson.”

“Pleasure,” she grinned. “It’s about time you brought one of your avenging friends around, if you ask me.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. So she did know who he was. He couldn’t help feeling a surge of pride. Not many people recognised the Falcon on sight.

“Oh, hey,” (Y/N) suddenly said. She reached around the counter and grabbed a hot coffee from atop it, passing it to Cap. “One Captain Americano.”

Steve tilted his head. “Pre-made, huh?”

She shrugged, unable to hide a smile. “Newbie’s idea. You’re here every morning, same time, same order. Might as well be ready.” She turned to Sam. “What can I get you?”

When they got their orders respectively, they situated themselves in a booth by the window. Sam raised his eyebrows when Steve got a newspaper and skimmed through it. The younger man pulled out his phone and read the news. They started talking after a while, having worn off the exhaustion from their morning run.

“Nat says you refuse any blind dates,” Sam teased. “C’mon, man. You still got game, don’t you?”

“I’ve got game, or whatever,” Steve huffed. “Just don’t like the idea of blind dates.”

“What about that girl downstairs in the compound? She’s cute,” Sam suggested.

Steve shook his head, glancing at the counter, where (Y/N) rushed back and forth, passing six coffee cups to a sleep-deprived high schooler. “I’ve got somebody else in mind.”

Sam followed his gaze and chuckled. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” he hummed, taking another sip of his drink.

“Dude, ten bucks says it takes you a week to get up the courage.”

At his challenge, Steve tilted his coffee further, chugging the whole thing. He put it down on the table afterwards, rubbed his hands together, and stood, starting toward the now nonexistent line.

(Y/N) turned at his approach and smiled. “Something else you guys need?”

“Just a quick question,” he said as sweetly as he could. “When does your shift end?”

Instantly, she turned red, but couldn’t wipe that familiar grin off her face. It made Steve’s heart flip in his chest. “Ten-ish,” she stammered.

The captain had never seen her this flustered-- he thought it was adorable. “Do you wanna get brunch? Maybe take a walk?”

“I’d love that,” she said.

Steve said his goodbyes and sauntered back over to Sam, who was already pulling out ten bucks. He passed it to him slyly, not wanting to give (Y/N) the wrong idea of why they were exchanging money.

Meanwhile, the newbie in the back was teasing her.

“You have a date with Captain America! Captain America!” He cried. “Boss is gonna kill you if you break his heart!”

She shoved him. “I won’t, genius. Now shut up and earn your salary, would you? I can’t be the only one working around here.”

But (Y/N) couldn’t help one last glance at the captain as he left. He turned and waved at her briefly, a silly smile painting his expression. It sent butterflies into her stomach and she had to glance away, face flushed.

“Now who’s not working!?”

Masterlist

[missjanjie]

When We’re Alone Together | BVK

Title: When We’re Alone Together Summary:   In the wake of the public end of their relationship, Brooke Lynn and Vanessa swore they weren't going to let 'branjie' happen at DragCon. Instead, they choose to indulge with Kameron and start to realize it's a lot more than just an alternative. Word Count: ~1.4k Relationship: BVK (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo/Kameron Michaels Rating: E

Read on AO3

“I thought we weren’t doing this,” Brooke Lynn gestured between the two of them, “Anymore.”

Vanessa shrugged, swinging their interlocked hands with a distinctly casual flair as they walked down the nearly empty hall. “It doesn’t count if it’s a threesome.”

“Says who?”

“Says me, bitch. Now shut up, he gon’ meet us in five.” The two of them sat in the dining area of the convention center, their only company a few tired Starbucks baristas and some stragglers from an adjacent convention. Perhaps on any other day, two drag queens--especially these two in particular--sitting at a table would garner some attention, but anyone left couldn’t have cared less, much to their relief.

Five minutes had barely passed when Kameron plopped himself down in a free seat. “Oh shit, you guys are still in drag? Do y’all wanna butch up before we go?” Ironically enough, he was the odd one out.

“Yo, I’m untucked so I’m good to go. Rest of this shit can come off at the hotel.” Vanessa scrolled through his phone, liking the tagged meet and greet pictures on Instagram.

The fact that the three of them were in the same hotel was no accident, but they weren’t exactly going to call attention to it. If they flew under the radar, they could have more fun – that was their train of thought. Besides, it was so rare for the three of them to be in the same city, let alone the same building. It would have been the missed opportunity of the century to not have one of their sporadic ménage-a-trois.

After another brief waiting period, they loaded up in a van for the relatively short ride. “You know,” Kameron remarked, “You guys were remarkably well behaved. Guess being on the opposite sides of the room helped though, huh?”

Both of them looked away, pushing out awkward laughs. “It didn’t hurt,” Brooke admitted. They were painfully aware of how everyone saw them – how they struggled to hide the fact that they couldn’t keep their hands off each other whenever one entered the other’s field of vision. Initially they didn’t mind, but it had made sorting out their feelings all the more difficult.

But that wasn’t what they were here for. No, they had the single intention of reigniting the sparks they both had with Kameron. It often felt that their chemistry with him almost matched the one with each other. And as far as they were concerned, it was perfect. That was what led to the three of them in Brooke’s hotel room, taking a moment to decompress before the real fun began.

“God, I’ve missed you guys.” Kameron chuckled, he and Vanessa both half-dressed and making out while Brooke finished getting out of drag. Something of a near-perfect synchronicity developed whenever the three of them got together. Kameron and Vanessa were kissing and groping like high schoolers, and Brooke Lynn was able to seamlessly slip into the action – it wasn’t long until the three of them were at each other like rabbits.

“We missed you too, baby.” Vanessa hummed, kissing up his neck while his hand wiggled its way into Brooke’s sweatpants, wrapping it around his length and starting steady strokes that matched the speed of the languid kissing the three of them shared. “And I’mma have you to myself on tour,” he added with a smirk.

Brooke Lynn’s brow quirked. It wasn’t jealousy in his expression – if anything there was intrigue. It hadn’t occurred to him that the two of them could, and quite possibly would, hook up while on tour. But it made sense – he and Vanessa certainly took advantage of the time they had together on tour, and there was something to be said about familiarity when bouncing from one city to the next. “Gonna need someone to keep you satisfied without me,” he teased.

“He’ll be in good hands.” Kameron promised, cupping Vanessa’s chin to plant a pointed kiss on his lips. As much as he loved being the filling in this sandwich of theirs, some one-on-one time did seem appealing. His gaze drifted to Brooke, then back to Vanessa. “Why don’t you start sucking your totally platonic buddy off while I prep you?” he suggested with a light laugh.

Vanessa’s cheeks flushed red. “Bitch.” He clicked his tongue, though he did follow the suggestion, kicking his shorts off and getting on his hand and knees.

Brooke, helpfully, had already tossed his sweats aside and sat up with his legs apart, guiding his part-time lover’s head down without applying any pressure, his head tilting back and a soft moan escaping when he felt the familiar mouth around his cock. “There we go, baby.” He praised.

And Kameron took up his task promptly, slicking up two fingers with lube that came from a travel-sized bottle and gingerly worked in one, then another, listening to the stifled moans his actions caused with a smirk. He slowly worked up to the pace Vanessa was bobbing his head at, eventually adding a third finger as well.

“I know how much you missed being the center of attention,” Brooke teased gently, carding his fingers through Vanessa’s hair. “Got a taste of it with those long meet and greet lines, made you need it where it counts.” He had always been so fond of the way Vanessa soaked up attention and praise in the bedroom. He supposed he enjoyed the way it made him feel needed, and it tended to work both ways. Eventually, he let his gaze drift back towards Kameron. “You think he’s ready?”

Kameron nodded, using his free hand to roll the condom down his length. He pulled his fingers out and waited just until he heard Vanessa start to whine before getting up on his knees behind him and steadily eased himself in, stilling for a moment when he bottomed out, then began thrusting at an even pace. He looked down, watching the way Vanessa’s ass bounced each time their bodies met, listening to the sound it made. “Isn’t he pretty?”

“Beautiful,” Brooke Lynn agreed. The two of them leaned in and shared several deep kisses, trying not to disrupt the rhythm they’d developed. “It’s also the quietest you’ll ever get him, that’s a plus,” he laughed, only to suddenly wince. “Hey! No pinching!”

“Don’t be rude, baby.” Kameron scolded, smacking Vanessa’s ass between thrusts. Even though there was no verbal response, Kameron and Brooke exchanged smug grins, knowing Vanessa was doing what he was told.

Brooke tilted his head back, letting out a guttural moan. “Fuck, fuck I’m close,” he warned, but he knew Vanessa well enough to know he didn’t need to calm down or pull out. He knew that as he arched his hips and rode out his orgasm that his ex would readily swallow as much as he could. After being proven right, he pulled out and leaned down to kiss him. It was somewhere in between the heated, sloppy kisses during sex and the soft, languid ones they shared back when cuddling was ‘allowed’.

It didn’t take long for Vanessa’s moans to fill the room. Brooke watched with a smirk as he made his way to Kameron’s side. One hand rest on his cheek to pull him into a kiss while he angled his other hand to jerk Vanessa off in tandem with Kameron’s thrusts, both of them getting off one after another.

Silence--relative silence, at least--followed, panting and heavy breathing still lingering as the three of them came down from the post-coital high. And still wordlessly, they made their way under the covers to share the warmth in each other’s company – cuddling was allowed in threesomes according to their inconsistent rulebook. Very little about these arrangements were consistent, but that seemed to be the way they all liked it.

“Y’all spoil me. Bet no one else ending they DragCon getting dicked down by the show’s top trade,” Vanessa was bathing in the afterglow, comfortably nestled between the two taller men.

“Are we the top trade? Or do you just have a type?” Brooke teased and kissed his forehead.

“Does it matter?”

Brooke Lynn looked from Vanessa to Kameron and shrugged. “Guess not, I’m not complaining.”

“Hey, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” Kameron chimed in. “We better organize our schedules, see if we can get this happening a little more frequently.”

Brooke and Vanessa nodded in agreement, the three of them already wondering if Brooke could ‘run into them’ during the tour.

[the-canary]

Wednesdays - L.T (10/10)

Summary: Only you had the balls to deal with his outrageous order on that day. You just didn’t know how bad it would get. (Barista!Reader/Lance Tucker).

A/N: Thank you to @stanclub for inadvertently inspiriting this with her earlier writing challenge and @polaroid-idiocity for her support. Thank you for taking time to read this story all the way to the end! And yes, there will be an epilogue, hopefully out soon. 

Feedback is always appreciated.

“And the most important question,” Katherine and the rest of the girls' giggles while scrolling down the questions, “ Is Coach Tucker dating someone, or even interested in that sort of thing ?”

The iPad is aimed in his direction, as blue eyes move for a second to meet with someone else’s, though she just shakes her head and moves away. The girls look at him with expectant eyes and Lance Tucker can’t help but chuckle.

“What?” Lance can’t help but start as a rueful smile blooms onto his face, though he was just as surprised and nervous as hell as you were. He was just better at hiding it in performance than you were, “ Cat got your tongue ?”

All you do is frown as Lance takes the seat across from you with Norma sitting next to him. Claire is sitting on your side next to her father, as you can’t help but feel that someone is watching you like a hawk as you put the napkin off your lap and proceed to get something from each dish set in front of you while helping the little girl as well. You had been expecting someone of a similar demeanor to Claire’s father, not the one person you had been inadvertently avoiding this entire time --Lance had always bothered you in some way, but now you were sure he was out to mock you.

I mean, why else would he be here? The man didn’t seem to do the dating scene, you were sure that he had been ready to wine and dine whoever he had met for a quick lay, regardless of what they were to little Claire. Outside himself, his gym, and a few people you doubted Lance cared for anything else -- much less you.

In all your inner turmoil, you didn’t notice the lovestruck look the man was giving you, as you helped Claire cut her chicken nuggets into smaller pieces so she could count them before eating them. Everyone was eating their meals in silence, as Claire then looked at her mom confused as to why this wasn’t working.

“So,” Norma draws out, “What do you do besides teach ballet?”

Lance already knew how hard you worked, but at the confused look of having to talk about yourself, he can’t help but chuckle. You take that laughter in a different way though. You’re sure that you aren’t normally this insecure, but Lance and all the overthinking you had done at this point made you feel all sorts of inadequate.

“I’m getting my masters in public relations,” you start off while staring at your food, “I teach ballet on the weekends, work at a Starbucks, and am doing my internship when I can.”  

“Wow,” Norma sounds out, “That sounds like a lot on your plate. How do you manage?”

You blink in confusion, not understanding the question though it was something Lance often wondered about as well, not that he ever told you.

“I don’t know,” you answer with an awkward laugh, “I guess, I don’t have much time for a social life or annoying things like love and dating.”

The room silences like crickets are the only things in the air.  

Lance frowns as Norma glances at him for a moment, not quite understanding the shift in her brother’s personality but he can feel it. Claire is playing with her green beans, as Richard tries to stop her, obviously trying to ignore whatever might be going on between the two of you.

“And why would you say that,” Lance’s question spills before he can stop to think, as everyone turns to look at him with a variety of emotions, “Maybe, you’re just not trying hard enough.

“Maybe,” you let out mournfully, as Lance can’t help but wonder just what exactly had made you feel such a way about the world, before taking a bite out of your salad, “There isn’t that strong worth fighting for.”

Lance gets up and excuses himself, as you keep looking at your plate a bit unsure of what had just happened. Norma gives you a shrug and exasperated look on her face before going back to eating her own meal, and you couldn’t help but wonder how often she bothered with setting up Lance -- it seemed like he had never dated, to begin with, even less with the Townsend scandal.    

Why would he want to do anything with that now? Why with you of all people?

“Just once.”

You were sure he meant it in an “only once” sort of way, and you planned on keeping it that way.  

Lance really doesn’t say a word to you after that, as Claire decides to take you to her room and show you around the house. The former Olympic gymnast sits on the couch, watching you and his favorite niece move from room to room while nursing a drink. Richard and Norma sitting on the larger couch at his right, unsure of why the man is suddenly so dark and brooding.

“Lance,” his sister questions as he hears you and Claire laugh, sending a chill down his spine in memory, “Are you all right?”

She laughs like that with the girls, Lance thinks bitterly. You had laughed like that with him only once and it had sent his heart racing, but outside of the drinking there really wasn’t anything connecting you and him. You had been avoiding him like the plague after your kiss, had been willing to go out with someone else after what had happened between the two of you, even if it turned out to be him at the end as well.

It was a little funny, but your attitude had been more infuriating than anything else. Lance wasn’t sure what he would do if you just kept pushing back.

Was it really all worth it?

“I’m fine, sis,” he gives her a toothy smile and Norma does her best to believe him.

It’s close to nine when you finally decide that it’s time to go, especially since it’s close to Claire’s bedtime. You thank them all for the lovely time, as to get to her level and give her one last big hug. Lance had planned on staying a while longer and soaking in his misery once more, but blue eyes look his way and he knows that he is done for.

“You should walk her to her car,” Claire lets out in a yawn as Norma tries to stop her. It doesn’t work out maybe the little girl just doesn’t read the air in the room, “Just to say goodnight.”

You want to stop and say that you don’t need help getting back to your car, but Lance steps in with that glorious smile, “That’s a great idea, peanut. Wouldn’t want anything happening to your ballet teacher.”

Claire grins at Lance and then at you, making you realize that you really can’t say no. Norma ends up giving you a to-go plate of extra food and sends you on your way with a silent Lance Tucker, which can’t be a good thing. He doesn’t say anything a good ten steps in and you’re thinking you’re in the clear, that he got tired and won’t bother with whatever is going on between you anymore. You speak too soon when you hear his voice.

“--Then, why did you come?” you don’t hear the first part of the question, as you look straight ahead for a moment. However, Lance has always been one to command whatever area he was in as he steps in front of you and you stop walking.

“Because I wanted to forget,” you state, throwing him a bone as you sidestep and continue walking towards your car.

“Forget what?” you can hear his voice behind you and you choose to ignore this question.

“This is my car,” you state, pointing at the vehicle with a weary smile, “Thank you and good night, Lance.”

“ Forget what? ” Lance yells as he comes up to stand in front of the driver’s door. He puffs out like a child throwing a tantrum, as you stand there waiting for him to continue his stupid little speech.

“You want to know why I came,” Lance explains softer than before as your eyes widen, “So maybe, I could forget that stupid smile I see every weekend, that laugh that always seems to bubble whenever someone is talking with the girls. So, I could maybe stop thinking about that stupid drunken kiss and those little noises that just frustrate me to no ends.”

You aren’t sure what to say as he keeps going, filter completely gone.

“You’re the only thing in my fuckin’ head all damn day,” Lance lets out miserably, “But, when you blatantly ignore me, it just kills me.”

“Shut up ,” you seethe out as Lance asks you to repeat it again. Now, that you’re paying attention to him after weeks and weeks of ignoring him, he’s just going to keep riling you up, “ Shut up! You don’t want me.”

“I’m pretty sure I do,” Lance lets out in a weary attempt of a laugh, unsure of what to do to make you believe him.

“No,” you breathe back in an almost heartbroken way as you push him back, “You don’t want me. You just want the chase, the conquest and then what ? Just throw me away when you’re done having your fuckin’ fun.”

“I---”

“Lance Tucker doesn’t date,” you let out hoarsely with tears ready to spill from your eyes, “Lance Tucker fucks and leaves, just like any other man.”

Lance stands there shocked for a moment, but both of you know that you aren’t lying instead you ask him to move and he does so numbly, as you fight with your bag and the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes to open the damn door and leave. You don’t say anything else as you shut the door and proceed to drive off.

Lance stands there a good while even after you’re gone before getting into his own car.

 “I do.”

It’s all Lance says before the feed goes off and the girls are screaming, asking a million questions. Blue eyes go back to glancing at where you were standing, but you had already moved away having decided to start putting the equipment away instead.

In the two weeks since that disastrous dinner date, you had slowly distanced yourself even more from Lance Tucker. After the Q&A, you had put in your resignation with Madison, stating that the improved numbers within the social media needed to now be tracked by someone who was full-time staff, not just someone who came in on the weekends.

It was basically your two weeks notice, but you weren’t sure how Lance had taken it -- you hadn’t asked. You had also asked for a transfer in days at Starbucks, anything but Wednesdays, though that took a little longer to happen depending on other people’s schedules.

It was the coward’s way out, but you were okay with that. It was better than getting hurt than coming up with false delusions whenever you saw him. You were sure that he would find someone else eventually, there was always another video girl waiting in the wings.

You just didn’t know that Lance Tucker was getting tired of that as well and he was going to do something about it.   

“What do you mean she’s leaving?” Katherine exclaims for the rest of the girls as Lance explains that you had turned in your tw0-weeks notice. Some are frowning and some are just livid.

“Her time with us is coming to an end, that’s all,” Lance explains as his star pupil shakes her head.

“And you’re just gonna let her leave like that,” she fires back, “Without a fight, without telling her that you’re obviously feeling something for her.”

“Girls, I-- what ?”

“We’re not blind, Coach,” Katherine answers back as most of the girls nod, “We’ve seen you guys make googly eyes at each other all the time.”

Lance stays silent, as she huffs a breath of air: “So what are you going to do about it?”

Lance Tucker isn’t sure when he became so whipped, but he knew that hi s students were right and that he had to do something about the situation before he regretted it.

He decides to do so on the last Wednesday that you are supposed to be working at Starbucks, Micah had told him you had changed your schedule and while she didn’t know exactly what was going on -- she could sense the sexual tension in the air since the last time he had shown up. You were showing the new guy how to take inventory when he had shown up -- Lance Tucker and the girls with very large bouquets of flowers.  

Micah blinks at the sight before he grins at her: “I would like to order one very frustrating barista up and center, please.”

She grins and tells them all to wait. The girls take a while to look around, only just now realizing that you worked here, though it wasn’t usually when they came in. They all looked at each other in anticipation and silently vowing to make your life a living hell if you didn’t come back.

“Hello. I- -” you freeze when you see all of them there, a lost look in your eyes over the fact that the girls were glaring at you, you since had kept them in the dark about everything until Lance had told them everything, well almost everything.

“What are you guys doing here?” you manage to find your voice without breaking, as you try to ignore the soft look in Lance’s eyes.

He had realized a lot of things since talking with the girls.

“You can’t honestly think you could leave without telling us,” Katherine frowns as all the girls agree in unison, as your eyes widen. You really hadn’t told them anything because you were afraid of how they were going to react, you just didn’t expect them to go this far.

“Even if you aren’t our social media person anymore,” Katherine goes on, “I hope you keep visiting us. We all really like you there, even---”

Katherine turns around to look at Lance, as you do as well. You let out a sigh before taking all the flowers they are giving you. You smile and try not to cry, as you hear Lance softly call out to them to order something for themselves, as he pulls you to where he always sits to wait for his order -- how ironic that this is the first place where you started to annoy him and now he couldn’t let you go.

“Before you say anything,” Lance starts off, “I didn’t put them up to this. I told them about you leaving and they went all off on their own.”

You look at the bouquet in your hands and let out a tired sigh, “I know that you aren’t that type of person.”

“Then you can see it, right?” Lance asks, as blue eyes stare straight in yours and you know what he means.

The words you had spoken in the aftermath of the dinner had swirled in your mind for a long time afterward because while you knew that Lance was always going to be Lance Tucker -- he was a completely different person than the one you had researched all those months ago. He cared about his students and his family. Yes, he was still harsh and mean around the edges, but it came with the life he lived and what he was trying to make up for it for the rest of his days.

He was different and people changed all the time, but whatever he felt and had told you back at dinner felt like the god honest truth -- you just had to give him a chance to show you that you were either wrong or right. Yes, it was about your past traumas, but Lance wasn’t going to know anything about them and how you felt if you didn’t open up...even just a little.

You had to be willing to get hurt and even if Lance did break your heart, it has been an experience -- a thing that you had denied yourself for a long time because of work and school. It wasn’t the proper way to live, and maybe Lance and the girls were trying to show you that.

You look at the flowers all varying sizes and colors and then back at those blue eyes before you speak in a whisper: “One date.”

“What?”

“I am offering to go on one date with you, Lance Tucker,” you state as his eyes widen, “We can see how it goes from there.”

Confusion blooms onto his face for a second before a grin overtakes. He grabs you by the waist and whoops as he has just won the Gold all over again, as you just shake your head with laughter and not really caring who might be watching. He grabs your cheek and drags you into a quick kiss, crushing the flowers just a bit before moving away. A grin on his face, when you blink at the shortness of it all.  

“You know, maybe Claire was right about us,” Lance laughs as he leans in a little.

“I’m thinking everyone was except for us,” you let out with a pout, as you are sure that everyone in the front of the store is watching your little display in some type of smug glee.

“Guess we gotta live to their expectations, huh?” Lance teases, “Go for the gold.”

“That was a horrible joke,” is all you manage to say before he grabs you by the waist once more and pulls you in for another, much longer kisses -- a much sweeter one than the first one you had shared.

The girls rejoice and Micah shakes her head before getting started on their orders. And while you weren’t sure what the future had for you -- for now you could say that Wednesdays were certainly your favorite day of the week.

You were sure that Lance would agree as well.

[let-it-raines]

Emma sends her friend Killian a text, not noticing the horrible autocorrect mistake and Killian gets the wrong idea.

All she needs is for finals to be over in two weeks. She needs them to be over, and then she’ll be free to do whatever the hell she wants for three months. Yeah, she’ll probably end up getting a job down at the Sheriff’s station, something she does with her dad every year since she’s been old enough to legally work there as an intern…which is definitely a bit of a stretch. She’s not exactly sure how her dad gets the approval from town council to pay her for answering phones and fiddling around on her computer for three months out of the year, but he somehow does. Whatever. It works for her. She gets to help out on the occasional interesting case that happens in Storybrooke and spend time with her dad.

It’s kind of like the dream for a twenty-two year old who’s a semester behind in college but can’t finish over the summer because her classes aren’t offered then. That sucks, a lot, but she’s a bit thankful for the extra six months to figure out what the hell it is she’s going to be doing for the rest of her life, which is terrifying in and of itself.

The fifty minutes of her advanced corporate finance class (she’d like to have words with whoever the hell decided this was necessary for a criminal justice major) tick by at a snail’s pace, Dr. Jitka’s monotone voice nearly lulling her into sleep until there’s an elbow hitting into her ribs at such a force that she almost falls back in her chair, having to grab onto the table in front of her to keep her from falling backward.

She knows exactly who just elbowed her, her eyes quickly glancing to her right where Killian is diligently taking down notes in his neat handwriting looking as if he didn’t just knock the breath out of her and nearly knock her over.

Asshole.

But then she sees the smallest of smiles on his face, his pink lips stretching out under the black of his scruff and the shade of his baseball cap. Yeah, that’s what she thought. It’s not like there’s anyone else who could have possibly elbowed her in the ribs.

Dr. Jitka finally finishes talking, their allotted time ending, and she scurries to pack up all of her stuff and make it to the Starbucks in the building, caffeine calling her name. Killian follows behind her, his longer strides allowing him to keep up with her hurried pace, even managing to pass her and sneak in front of her in line, the asshole.

“I need my coffee, Jones.”

“You are not the only person who’s tired, love. Do you even have any money left on your card?”“Ahh,” she groans, bringing her bottom lip between her teeth, “no, no I don’t. I was just going to pay with cash.”

He reaches up to scratch behind his ear, something she’s noticed him do a lot in their four months of knowing each other. She thinks it’s a nervous tick. He does it before he asks a question in class, which she’s decided is his weakness. He’s this really confident guy, seemingly never lacking in it, except when he doesn’t know what’s going on, which isn’t often. He’s freakishly smart, is only in this class as his minor since his major is in mechanical engineering, and she kind of thinks he gets down on himself when he doesn’t know what’s going on.

But who is she to know the inner workings of Killian Jones? They’re friends, they talk, they study together a lot, but he’s still teetering on one of those people where she’s got a fifty-fifty shot of talking to him after graduation. Because, really, what do they have in common besides being in a torturous advanced corporate finance class?

(The same taste in movies, television shows, books, a liking for black coffee, the ability to stay up past four in the morning with no issue, the same biting sarcasm, a penchant for innuendos…maybe a few other things.)

But who knows? She, who doesn’t like making new friends, likes being his friend, even if she does call him an asshole more than she calls him by his actual name. So maybe she’ll put in the effort so that they can be friends outside of this class. He’s got an entire year left compared to her one semester, so it’s not like he’s going anywhere.

“I’ve got money I’m not going to use. I can pay.”

Her lips gape open, the act of kindness shocking her considering he never pays for her stuff when she forgets her food card. “Really?”

“Aye, it’s not like it transfers over to next semester anyway. You want something to eat?”

“A cake pop.”

“Love, it’s not even noon.”

“You offered. Don’t knock on what I’m getting. And I want my coffee – ”

“ – black but you’ll add two sugars to it, I know.”

“Good man,” she sighs, patting him on the back. “I’m going to go get that table in the corner before someone else does.

She walks out of line, dodging people and hoping and praying that no one takes the spot. It doesn’t seem like that big of a deal, but an open table is pretty much buried treasure, so when you see one, you have to take it and claim it as your own. It’s a tough competition to not be sitting outside in the rain, which has been a constant for the past few days. She manages to snag the table, plopping her backpack down in Killian’s chair so that no one takes it before pulling out her laptop and opening up her notes, trying to understand what the hell Dr. Jitka was even talking about.

Killian joins her ten minutes later, placing her coffee and cake pop down on the table while he settles across from her, his legs kicking hers and shaking the table when he crosses them underneath the wood. When she goes to grab her cup, she sees a number written in sharpie right under Killian’s name. She rolls her eyes. Of course the barista gave Killian her number. She didn’t even know people did that, but apparently they do.

“So how did you charm the barista for her to give you her number on my cup?”

“Oh I didn’t.”“Then why is this number on my cup?”

“Amy, up there, is my ex. I have her number blocked, and every time I’m in here she writes her number on my cup. I hate to say an ex is crazy because, well, that’s kind of a sucky thing to do, but Amy is crazy.”

“You’re telling me that your ex-girlfriend works in here, and not only do you still come in here but you also trust that she’s not going to spit into your food?”

He puts his cup down on the table, his lips twisting up and his forehead wrinkling. “Never thought about that second thing. Bloody hell.” She laughs, reaching over and taking a sip of her drink. “Ah, ah, ah, love, if she’s spitting in my drink, what’s she going to do to yours?”

“Nothing? I’m your friend.”

“Amy doesn’t know that.”

“Oh gross,” she groans, putting her coffee down on the table and looking over at the counter, where, sure enough, Amy is staring them down. “Why’d you guys break up?”

“She thought I was cheating on her so she cheated on me.”

“Were you?”

“Nope. I like to consider myself a one woman type of guy. I’m not quite sure how she got the idea that I was cheating.”

“Well, Amy seems like a gem.”

“You want to know the kicker of it all?”

“Sure, Jones.” She leans forward, closing her laptop so she can prop her elbows up on the table. “Tell me all of your dirty little secrets.”

“She cheated on me with my best friend.”

“Shit. Really?”

“Aye. Obviously he’s no longer my best mate, but that was a fun time.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but at least you’re not with someone who’d cheat on you. No one deserves that.”

“So,” Killian whistles, picking up his cup again and eyeing it for a few seconds before seemingly deciding to screw it and drink his coffee, “you going home to your weird little town of Storybrooke for the summer?”

Changing the subject. Got it.

“It’s not weird. It’s just got an interesting name.”

“You guys have, like, one market, a diner, and a library. It’s like every small town you’d see in a movie.”

“Well, not all of us live full time in Portland, but yeah, I think I’ll go home and work for my dad. It’s easy cash, I get to spend time with him, watch all of the tourists roll in, and buy a ridiculous amount of ice cream.”

“Sounds like a dream. I’ve got to do my last semester of co-op.”“That sucks.”

“Eh, since it’s my last semester I get a pay raise, and I get paid double overtime. So obviously I’m going to be chomping at the bit for that so I can graduate with some actual money in my bank account.”

Her phone buzzes then, a text from Ruby, and that’s when she sees that she’s ten minutes late for her next class which is in another building. “Shit, I’ve got to go. I’m late for class.”

“Don’t forget about the assignment.”

“I won’t,” she promises, picking up her backpack and running out of the door, leaving her possibly poisoned coffee sitting on the table, her entire purpose for coming into Starbucks pointless now.

-/-

Emma: Joooooooonesssss.

Killian: Swan.

Emma: Oh come on, you’re supposed to be just as dramatic as me.

Killian: Oh my Swan, my Swan, whatever is wrong with the fair maiden that she calls out my name like that, since I do assume that it’s not in pleasure.

Emma: Okay, well I didn’t mean to be that dramatic.

Emma: I don’t understand our last homework assignment.

Emma: I need a B on it.

Emma: Can you help?

Killian: Of course. My place or the library?

Emma: Your place. I’m so frustrated.

Killian: What time?

Ruby calls out her name then, something about the two of them forgetting to pay a bill, and she groans as she gets up from the comfort of her bed (which is likely another reason she wasn’t getting anything done) to go see what’s happening. Ruby is scrolling through their apartment’s portal, showing her their last statement, so she doesn’t really look when she replies to Killian’s text.

Emma: How about sex tonight?

Emma: I don’t think I can finish without you.

Killian: Yeah, okay, that’s perfect ;)

She puts away her phone in her back pocket, forgetting about it and not seeing Killian’s next text as she deals with them not paying the electrical bill, which was definitely Ruby’s fault because she was in charge of paying their bills due on the first this month.

Killian: But what time are you coming over?

-/-

She pulls up to Killian’s apartment around five forty-five, but it takes a solid ten minutes to find parking. He lives close to campus, which blows her mind that he can simply walk to class, but those are the kinds of perks that she guesses you get when you’re on scholarship and literally only have to pay for somewhere to live. Seriously, even his textbooks are paid for.

It pays to be smart, apparently.

But once she finds parking a good half a mile away, she grabs her backpack and starts walking toward his place. She’s a little sweaty by the time she gets there, the rain stopping and humidity starting, but that’s fine. She’s just in her gym clothes anyways. When she knocks on his door, it takes no more than ten seconds for it to swing open.

Was he waiting for her?

Weird, but he is a stickler for time.

She doesn’t think anything of it until she gets a good look at Killian…and of the apartment. He’s wearing jeans and a light blue button down, the elbows rolled up to show his forearms. It’s a normal outfit, sure, but Killian rolls into class in sweatpants and a Henley or t-shirt, his hair usually tucked under a baseball cap. But right now it’s artfully tossed, the kind where you know the guy spent time on it but won’t admit to it. And is he…he’s wearing cologne. It smells damn good, but she’s confused.

Really confused.

Because he’s got soft music playing in the background, and she swears that she sees candles flickering in his kitchen.

“Hello, love,” he greets, bending down and kissing her cheek. When he pulls back, she can still feel where his lips touched her skin, the bristle of his scruff…she doesn’t hate it. She just doesn’t know what’s going on. “Why don’t you come in? Make yourself at home.”

“Was planning on it.” She makes her way into his apartment, passing his living area and heading toward the kitchen table only for him to grab her wrist, lightly tugging until she turns around.

“I feel like the living room would be better, or even the bedroom.”

“Weird but okay.” She’s definitely not going into his bedroom to do homework. That would be a disaster and uncomfortable on so many levels, so she settles down onto his couch, immediately pulling out her stuff while Killian sits down next to her, close enough that their thighs touch.

Her skin sparks the slightest bit, gooseflesh rising on her arms, but she ignores it, pulling open her notebook to where she’d been working out some of the more complex questions so she can get him to figure out where the hell she went wrong. But when she turns to ask him how to do the weighted average cost of capital, his face is freakishly close to hers the heat of his breath ghosting over her lips. And then before she knows it, his lips are on hers.

It’s nice, and she leans into it, returning the kiss and sliding her lips over his while his scruff brushes into her skin and his hands lightly thread into her hair. She gets lost in it, forgetting about who she’s kissing or why she’s here until he groans and his fingers grasp into her hair. That’s when it all comes back to her and she yanks back, separating the two of them and falling back on the couch, her notebook crashing to the ground while Killian blinks down at her.

“What the…” she stutters, hear heart beating quickly within her chest, “…what the hell was that?”

“What the hell was that?”

“I asked you first.”

“Are you five?”

“No, but I’m confused.”

“So am I.”

“You kissed me.”

“You kissed me back.”

“Well, I don’t despise you, and you’re a good kisser surprisingly enough. But I don’t…I don’t know where that came from.”

“What do you mean you don’t know where that came from?”

“Because I don’t? We’re supposed to be doing the damn assignment.”

“You literally sent me a text asking to sleep with me.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” she cries, backing up further on the couch until she’s sitting on the arm and curling into herself while her face heats. She’s probably red enough to pass as a tomato. “I did what now? Because I would literally never  ask anyone to sleep with me through text.”

If she’s red, Killian is worse. He keeps running his hands through his hair, making it stand up in a million different ways, while his lips open and close over and over again. What the hell is going on?

This is WACK and it has nothing to do with the Weighted Average Cost of Capital.

Oh wow, she just made a finance joke in her head. Maybe she really is losing it.

“But you did,” Killian says, reaching into his back pocket for his phone. “Here, you sent one text that says ‘how about sex tonight?’ And then right after you said ‘I can’t finish without you.’ I thought it was strange and pretty unconventional, but I don’t know. We get along. I think you’re gorgeous, but there’s obviously been some kind of misunderstanding, and I’m just going to never show my face in our class again.”

“You’d miss the final.”

“Thanks for the obvious, Swan.”

She waves her hand toward him, scooting down on the couch and sitting cross legged so that she’s closer to him. “Let me see the messages.” He hands the phone over, the messages still open, and she reads through them right up until…”How about sex tonight? I can’t finish without you. And oh my God, I said I was frustrated earlier.”

Her laugh begins low in her belly, making her entire body shake until she’s dry heaving, basically hiccupping into the laugh, and she can’t breathe. She’s laughing so hard that she can’t breathe. Killian’s phone falls to the couch, landing in between her legs while she covers her mouth with her hands to try to stop the appalling sound that’s coming out of her mouth. This is hysterical, and she has never been so glad to misspell a text.

“I’m glad you find this so funny, Swan.”

“Oh c-come on,” she gasps, wiping the tears that are falling from her eyes, “this is fantastic. I meant six, you know? I did not mean sex.”

“Aye,” Killian gruffs, rubbing his hands up and down his face until he’s practically pulling his hair out, “I realize that now. I’m sorry that I…I’m sorry that I misunderstood, that I pushed myself on you. I’m also sorry that I’m a bloody idiot.”

She shakes her head back in forth, disbelief over this whole thing settling in while she tries to stifle her laughter. She leans over and pats Killian’s knee, which only makes him groan more. “I’ve always heard the jokes about engineers not having social skills, but I really didn’t expect you to fall into that category.”

“Are you trying to torture me?”

“Absolutely not. I still need your help with my homework, and you can’t do that if you’re both emotionally and sexually frustrated.”

“Oi,” he protests, his lips finally ticking up into the smallest of smiles, atta boy, “I am not sexually frustrated.”

“Maybe you are. Maybe you’re not. Also,” she begins, getting up from the couch and wandering around the room, turning the music up on his Bluetooth stereo and blowing out the candles, “now I know what Killian Jones does when seducing a woman, and this is something I’m going to remember forever.”

“Can you knock me out so I forget?”

“No. Then I’d mess up your perfectly styled hair that I know you spent a lot of time on, not that you haven’t already done a number on it with all of that tugging.”

“I hate you.”

“Oh, I think that’s a lie.” She walks back over to him, settling down on the couch next to him and propping her head up on her palm before she sing-songs, “You think I’m gorgeous. You want to kiss me. You want to hug me. You want to love me.”

Killian rolls his eyes, a more genuine smile on his face now. “Okay, Sandra Bullock.”

“I like that you get the reference.”

“I’ve seen the movie.”

She laughs again, bending down to pick up her stuff, flipping back to her notebook page with her homework. “Killian, I promise you don’t have anything to worry about or be embarrassed with. I will never bring it up again if you want. We’ll just finish this homework and study, okay?”

“Aye, that sounds like a plan, though I don’t think I can truly forget.”

So they eventually get around to her homework. She’s still confused, doesn’t think she’ll ever understand it, but Killian talks her through it enough that she might get partial credit on the final. Possibly. She’s not really sure. But she does know she’ll at least get an A on the homework. It helps to have a genius friend who may or may not want to have sex with you but who can definitely help you with your assignments when you feel like pulling your hair out.

After they’re finished with their assignment, everything submitted through the online portal, Killian orders a pizza, grabbing two beers out of his fridge and handing one to her while a baseball game plays on the television. She doesn’t mean to, but she watches him as he takes a sip, his jaw ticking while he tilts the bottle against his lips.

It’s…attractive.

And it’s not exactly news to her. She’s always known Killian was attractive. It’d be hard to miss. His eyes…well, damn, he’s got some of the prettiest eyes she’s ever seen, and his smile is just a bright. The fact that she knows he works out regularly helps. A little. Or a lot.

His personality helps more than a lot.

Does she…like him? Maybe. Probably. Definitely.

Oh God, feelings are the worst, and she’s not sure that she wants them.  

Okay, she kind of wants them.

She kind of wants him.

“Killian?”

“Yeah, love?” he asks, not looking away from the game on the TV.

“Did you really want to sleep with me?”

He groans, falling back into the couch so that his head falls against the cushion and his hair flops in his face. “I thought you said we could forget about it.”

“I did…I just – I’m curious.”

He points over at her, seemingly circling her entire being. “Of course I wanted to sleep with you. I mean, I’d prefer that we were both on the same page and that maybe, you know, you’d let me take you out on a date first.”

“Killian Jones,” she gasps, reaching over and squeezing his shoulder, “are you asking me out on a date?”

“That is not what I said.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t mean to send you a sext, but here we are.” She laughs as he groans again, throwing his arm over his eyes. “My answer would be yes, by the way.”

He lifts his arm, peeking over at her. “Really?”

“Yeah, let’s go with the Friday after finals are over.”

“Why, Swan, are you asking me out on a date?”

She leans over and quickly slides her lips over his. Killian’s the one who takes a moment to react this time, his lips soft when they finally move over hers and his hand gentle as it threads into his hair. She meant for it to be short and sweet, but as she readjusts herself to straddle his lap, her knees on either of his thighs, it intensifies, Killian groaning into her mouth as his tongue traces at the seam of her lips. That’s when she pulls back, resting her forehead against his and loosening her grip in his hair.

“So it’s a date then, Swan?”

“Yeah, you can pick me up at sex.”

[sloaneisalone]

The Barista Boy(2/?)

TW: homophobic slurs, and some bi erosia (I think I fucked up the spelling for that)

I open my door to see what’s going on and there I see the boy from Starbucks—John. He’s sitting on the floor crying, the contents of his duffel bag strewn across the floor. There was visible bruising on his face and neck, and his nose was dripping with blood, but he still managed to look gorgeous(a/n: sorry that’s morbid as hell).

“What the hell happened?” I turned to face Eliza,

“Shouldn’t we help him?” She asked,

“What would we do?” Laf asked, Hercules was the first to move, he approached John and placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched away. I was the next to move, I walked over and helped him up, he leaned into my shoulder as I walked him into my dorm, and sat him on the couch. Laf and Herc put his things back into his bag, and brought that inside. I asked Eliza to make some tea, as I looked at him with worried eyes.

After a few hours he spoke,

“I-I’m sorry for barging in—” I interrupted,

“No, you didn’t barge in at all,” he looked scared shitless, “Do you wanna talk about what happened?” He shook his head, but still spoke,

“H-h-he—” Eliza started stroking his hair with one hand, holding an ice pack with the other.

“Shhh, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” He nodded, but kept going,

“H-He f-found out I w-was...g-gay..t-then, h-he called me a f-fag and s-started hitting m-me.” I was shocked. Someone did this to him because he was gay? What the actual fuck is wrong with the world.

“Who did this to you?” I asked, my eyes filled with rage. This I wanted to kill whoever beat up John.

“T-Thomas J-Jeffers-son.” That stupid macaroni-dick-face was gonna pay. I ran out of the dorm, Eliza warning me to calm down before I did something stupid. I went down the hall, to the place John had been thrown out of; banging on the doors until my knuckle were raw. Eventually a very tired looking Jefferson opened the door and kindly asked me to “shut the fuck up,”because he needed his ‘beauty rest.’ The tall man was dressed in a short violet , silk bathrobe with flowers and dragonflies on it, his dark hair puffed out in a perfect afro.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I shout,

“Excuse me?” Anger rises in his voice,

“You know what you did, how could you do that to John?”

“The fag got what he deserved,” I couldn’t take his rudeness anymore, I slapped Thomas directly across the face, I could see the hurt in his eyes for a , before he covered the pain with more anger.

“How can you of all people say that? After everything?”

I’m holding my boyfriend’s hand. Boyfriend. That sounds nice. We sit in an empty classroom, our legs hanging off the desks,

“Tommy?” I ask in a sing songy voice, while playing with his hair, “Why do you like me?” I had, had a crush on Thomas since the seventh grade. We’d never really been close, we just had a few mutual friends, so I was shocked when I learned he felt the same way. Thomas turned his head towards me and smiled, “Well for starters, you’re a pretty great kisser,” I giggled slightly as he placed his soft hand on mine, intertwining our fingers. He continued,“you’re handsome, and kind-”he stopped and moved his hand away from mine as he noticed someone walking into the room. My smile faded. Yes, Thomas was my boyfriend, but he wouldn’t let me tell a soul we were together. I waited for the intruder to leave, before I asked,

“Thomas, when can we tell people we’re together?” He looked at me with a serious look,

“I-I don’t know…” he trailed off, “I’m just not ready yet.” This was an excuse, we’d been seeing each other in secret for almost a year. I was fully out at that point, and I understood that it takes some people longer...but it hurt me to have to hide my feelings whenever we were out in public.

“Do you know when you will be ready?” I asked, trying my hardest to sound understanding.

“N-No I don’t know when I’ll be ready, but Alex, I do know that I love you.” He cupped my face in his hands, and closed the space between us. We broke apart after a while and I smiled,

“I love you too Tommy.”

“I swear to God, Alex. If you tell anyone about what happened that year I will fucking kill you.” I wasn’t scared of Thomas, he was all talk, or at least that’s what I thought.

“I will tell everyone our little secret, if you don’t go and apologize.” This was an empty threat, I wasn’t cruel.

“You wouldn’t dare.” I could see he was scared, he wasn’t the best at hiding his emotions.

“Fucking watch me,” with that I turned on my heel and started to walk away, but he grabbed, my hand with a sigh.

“Fine.”

————————Mini time skip back to Alex’s dorm, brought to you by Jefferson's perfect hair, cuz honestly fucking how? I’m jealous.

“Sorry I called you a f-” I shot him a death glare, “a slur and sorry I beat the shit out of you.” John still looked a bit scared, like Thomas would snap any second and hit him again; but it was a bit difficult to take him seriously in the bathrobe, I could see both Lafayette and Herc practically shitting themselves with laughter.

“O-Okay, I forgive you.” We could all tell he was lying, but no one said anything. When I felt Thomas had said enough, I escorted him out of the room, and walked him back to his own dorm,

“Fuck you, Alex,”

“I would, but I thought you were too busy fucking Madison.” His face turned bright red, I leaned near his ear and whispered with a smirk, “don’t worry, your secret’s safe with meeee.” I walked back to my room and pulled out all the board games we owned and gestured for John to pick one. His face lit up, with a childish joy. Damn that boy was cute. (A/n: if you don’t know the premise of the life game this will probably make no fucking sense, so sorry whoooops)

We ended up playing Life, and finishing the Chinese food we had leftover. We kind of just accepted John into our group without a hitch, he just seemed to fit with everyone but Eliza. They both pretended to like each other for everyone else’s sake, but it was still obvious. I’d never met someone Eliza didn’t like.

I landed on the “you got married,” square and I had trouble deciding whether to marry a dude or a chick in the game. I had never told Eliza I was bi and I wasn’t quite sure how she’d react, but at the same time I didn’t want John to think I was straight. Wait, shit. I’m with Eliza. I’m with Eliza. I’m with Eliza. But what if I wasn’t? What if I could just kiss John. I bet his lips are soft. His eyes are nice. He’s really just hot overall, like dammmmmnnnnnn. I shake my head and snap out of my funk as I grab a random person and put it in my little car piece.

“That’s a boy Alexander.” Eliza says, Jesus Christ.

“Oh, I guess it is.”

“Are you gonna change it?” There’s a slight edge to her voice.

“I mean I could, I guess I’ve never mentioned this but I’m...bisexual.” I mumbled the last part, I didn’t see why it was a big deal but some people lose their shit when I tell them. Lafayette decided to help me out when Eliza asked what I said.

“He’s bi.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I couldn’t decide if she was confused or angry.

“It means he likes chicks and dicks,” John spoke, his first time without stuttering, his words earning a chuckle from Laf and Herc. Then things got a bit intense.

“I’m not stupid. I know what it means. Alex, honey you’re not bisexual. You’re just confused.”

“Nope, pretty sure I’m bi,”

“No. You’re not.” The anger was now clear in her voice.

“It’s not even a big dea-” she cut off John,

“How can you tell me this isn’t a big deal? God, nothing ever works out for me! This is just a load of bullshit, first my sister ssays she’s a lesbian, and now I find out you’re a fag. I can’t fucking believe this.”

“Get out.” Herc said. She didn’t move.

“Get out!” I yelled. She walked out of the dorm and slammed the door. That’s when I started to cry.

[boogiewrites]

A Girl Walks Into A Bar

Chapter 1

Characters: Declan Harp x Bella (OFC)

Word Count: 6400+

Summary: Frontier Modern AU. Declan is a bar owner and local urban legend with a reputation he’d like to leave in the past. Bella is a rough around the edges, low key sweetheart that isn’t from his part of town. After meeting with the help of some bad luck and perhaps a touch of fate, how far will their undeniable chemistry take them until their histories catch up with them?

Warnings/Tags: Language

A/N: Currently watching Frontier, love it, felt a burst of creative ideas and I just went with it. First time writing for this character. As always, shout out to @jaegeeeeer who told me to watch the show and enables my bad behavior. <3 

Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reblogs, likes, asks and comments feed me to write more! Let me know if you’d like tagged in my work.

My Masterlist. 

You'd had a bad day. Murphy's Law was created for the sole purpose of explaining the day you'd had. Your car is fucked, sitting in a shop currently as you just have to wait for a phone call about the state it's in and what limb you'll have to sell to afford the work. The bus was late, the coffee machine at work wasn't working and you'd dealt with assholes pretty much everywhere you'd went.

The bratty 16-year-old and her father that were in the studio that day had certainly earned the not affectionate in the least title. The Rolex wearing father, not attentive, blue tooth headset and nose stuck to a phone screen for the entirety of any communication you had with. He'd first insulted you, telling you to go fetch them coffee, tossing you a twenty while his clearly in need a smack and a therapist daughter barked a nonsensical order to you. You didn't go to Starbucks, you didn't know what the fuck any of this meant. You eat it anyway, as your boss is sighing and trying to keep the situation under control, seeing your known temper rising to the surface. You turn with an annoyed nod to leave, the father then smacking you on the ass on the way out. If your boss hadn't grabbed your arm, he would've been dealing with a broken pair of glasses and hopefully a cracked eye socket to accompany it.

You return from your errand, where of course, the barista was a dick. Still feeling insulted, seething as you see every switch and knob has been messed with in your absence. You hear the pterodactyl screech of this spoiled child from the booth, ignoring her while you fix what she's fucked up. Her father rushing you and claiming he was paying for this time and you were milking it.

After fixing others mistakes, you have to deal with the voice of the girl. You play it back over and over for her, she screams it sounds wrong, that you've fucked it up and it's your fault and you don't expect anything less from her at this point.

"Well it sounds wrong because you can't sing." you finally state matter of factly. You see your bosses hand go to her forehead, mouthing the word fuck.

The pterodactyl screeching does not falter, you are unphased despite the father now being tugged by his sleeve to you in the booth by his tantrum-throwing daughter, your boss walking in behind them.

"This is fucking insulting and I'm not doing it. This is a fucking studio for artists, not the next god damned Rebecca Black and her absentee fucking father! This is a place where we make MUSIC, we make ART here! Don't fucking insult my work here with this bullshit! I'm not here to cater to this fuckin' blue tool wearin' mother fucker and his piss baby of a kid!" you shout and you do not care. You started as an intern here, you worked your way up and you knew your value. No one else knew the technical side of things AND knew how to play instruments. Your boss knows this and knows she needs you as you both ignore the shouting from the two fuck heads who are still crying about things being unfair and unprofessional.

"I know. We need the money, I'm sorry. Why don't yo-"

"NEED THE MONEY?! BULLSHIT!" you shout, "If you needed the money so bad maybe don't go indulge your post-divorce crisis with plastic surgery and a new car CeeCee!" you grab your coat and angrily put it on.

"Just take the rest of the day off, Bella. This is clearly out of hand and no one can work like this." she says, not even mad at your words, you were never known to hold back your thoughts and knowing each other for years now your comments didn't phase her. You were a very passionate woman and it was all part of your process she'd quickly learned. Can't be as knowledgeable about music and art as you are without having a burning passion inside you for it. Unfortunately for you, this fire extended outside of your work and hobbies sometimes and made you a bit of a hot head. But at this point in your fuming, you were growing tired, so you cut it short.

"You're fucking right!" you shout as you slam the door behind you. "Take the rest of the day off," you mumble and mock her in an immature way but man, you were pissed. It was already after 5pm what rest of the fucking day was left! You're reminded of your car being gone as you stand in your reserved spot, staring at the freshly fallen snow that lay where it should. "Fuck." you groan, pulling on your gloves and tugging your hat over your wavy dark auburn hair. You had to walk to the bus stop and all you wanted was to go home and get drunk, so you in your winter wear, jeans and big black boots over them, a fleece lined leather jacket over your hoodie, all tied up cozy with a bow and a beanie. At least you'd checked the weather before you left the house so you were prepared for the walk.

You hear the sound of music as you walk down a street you'd driven past mindlessly, countless times. You're on the outskirts of the small community, outlying the city where you lived in a duplex, and much to your delight, you had no upstairs neighbors currently. No one to bitch about your music being played too loud or your guitar playing well into the night. As you round the corner, just a few blocks away from the, you're assuming, still shouting assholes, you let out a sigh as you recognize a guitar riff. It immediately sends the impulses you need to your muscles, your shoulders lowering finally from their tension. You've reached the source of the sound, you look up to the sign above the dark stone and wood front of the...bar...it would seem. You'd been past this place so many times and never stopped to look.  "The Trading Post." you say to yourself, biting your blushed from the cold lips. You see the welcome neon advertising beer and you sigh. You stand there for a few moments, considering just stopping in here, they were playing Zeppelin after all...how bad could it be?

You must've been wearing your foul mood all over your face because one of the men standing in a circle of other men, all wearing biker vests turns to watch you go in.

"You ain't lookin' for trouble are ya?" he asks, eyebrow raised.

You show no sign of intimidation. "I'm going in to drink to make myself forget about the fuckin' trouble." you say, moving your gloved hand to the door.

"I ain't never seen you here before."

"That'd be because I've never been here before."

"Yeah..." he looks you up and down in judgment and not in a sexual way, which you're relieved by. "But I've been told to keep out the riff-raff."

"Well no offense but one might think you guys are that riff-raff." you say with a stare and an attitude. One of the other men laughs.

"What's your name?" his eyes narrow.

"What's yours?" you ask with the same swing of your chin.

"They call me Southie." he answers.

"They call me Bella." you nod back, extending your hand and he looks at it in a surprised way but takes it, a gentle shake.

"Well don't go in there to fuck with no one, especially not Declan now, you hear? He doesn't take too kindly to folks running their mouths much."

"Who the fuck is Declan?" you ask. All the men laugh.

"You must not be from around here." he grins.

"I work a few blocks back, but I don't live in this neighborhood, no." you explain.

"Ah. Well..." he huffs out a laugh. "If you've not heard of him, you'll still recognize him when you see him." he nods and the other guys chuckle again.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" you ask with a shake of your head.

"Just let the girl go get a fuckin' drink, man, she's clearly in a bad mood, just let the little firecracker go." he laughs. You narrow your eyes at him, not sure if that was a compliment or not.

"Alright." he shrugs. "Go on, get in there baditude." he says with a nod of his head towards the door.

You pull it open, your eyes don't have to adjust much because the lighting is dim, just as a bar should be in your opinion. There are multi-colored lights in strings across the corners of the ceiling, neon signs placed with no rhyme or reason on wood paneled and brick walls. You look down the line of booths along the wall, all an old green color that only existed in the 70's you're pretty sure, worn and patched up with duct tape below the table tops with carved words of love and hate on top. To your right, there is a long wooden bar, a beautiful old monster of a thing. Looked like it'd been there longer than the building and the building looked very old itself. There's a faint smell of mildew, smoke and cheap cologne in the air. Had you just by chance walked into the dive bar you'd always wanted to call your local? When you catch sight of the man behind the counter, you know you have.

His back is turned to you, even from the doorway you can tell he's tall. As you walk forward, pulling your gloves off and stuffing them into your pockets he just gets bigger and broader the closer you get. A clearly well loved, thin t-shirt is all he's wearing in the dead of winter. You suppose maybe the past the shoulders mess of waves and curls that fade from almost black to a lighter brown towards the ends is keeping him warm. Or perhaps the lights that dotted the line of the bar were, some covered with colored gels, some broken, but you found it very charming nonetheless.

You're reaching for your zipper as he turns, guessing he's heard the door shut behind you. He turns as if he's expecting someone else, his head tilting just slightly as you continue walking. An intimidating face to match his stature greets you. His thick beard, just left of unkempt sits course, a full lip buried in the midst of it peaks out at you. His complimentary to his olive skin and dark coloration of the brown with yellow coloring eyes look over you under a heavy brow and hooded lids.  His almost Disney villain like naturally arched brows raise at your appearance in the bar. The act of unzipping your jacket while his eyes are on you makes your face flush. Or perhaps it was the heat in here. Hell, it could be both.

"What can I get ya?" he says in a deep but friendly voice.

"Uhhh..." you mumble for a moment, eyes looking over the bar back full of a plethora of bottles, some you've never heard of and for your Irish half, this was surprising as you'd known your fair share of alcohol in your life. "You have any real ale?" you ask with a wrinkle of your nose as he's looking to throw a towel somewhere out of sight to you.

His handsome face looks back up at you, this time a big grin appears, which you respond to with a few slow blinks. "We certainly do, babe." he says with a nod of his head, clearly supportive of your choice. Your eyes narrow as he turns at the use of the pet name. But you weren't getting a creepy vibe off this guy, but you were still withholding judgment. And as if your questions were meant to be answered, a man and woman walk into the bar, you feel the cold air move down and brush past your face.

"Oh hey, babydoll! Wasn't sure you'd show." he says, grabbing a box and walking it around the bar towards the man with the small woman.

"Hey Declan." he greets him, he picks her feet up off the floor with the entrapping hug he gives her. It makes the corner of your mouth want to pull back at the kindness behind the gesture. Looks like baby was just a word to him and part of you is grateful. "I'm running late sorry. I can't stay but I know I needed to get this before the morning."

"Otherwise you'd have me up at dawn waiting for you tomorrow to come to pick these up." he grins.

"It's like you know me sweetie." she grins up at him. He gives a hearty slap to shoulder of the man with her in greeting.

"You kids have fun then. That spots great for camping out up there. Just keep a lookout for bears." he says with a point of his finger at them both.

"Yes I know." she nods. "I googled everything, we'll be fine. Food up off the ground and everything, Got it."

"Good girl." he says patting her head, something she frowns insincerely at.

He returns to behind the bar, reaching back into a standing fridge and popping the top off a bottle before he slides it to you. "This one's my favorite." he says with a nod and a smile, your fingertips examine the green glass in your hands. He moves to shut the door to the room he'd retrieved the box from for the now gone, girl. You settle in on the stool, taking your jacket and hat off, fluffing your hair with one hand as he comes back. Your lips to the mouth of the bottle as his eyebrows raise at you in question.

"Shit man, that's good." your eyebrows raise as you look at the bottle. You hear a small grunt of laugh from him. "This looks like what those people just walked out with."

"Nah. Same people brew it, same label, different brew."

"Tastes like...fuckin' cherries or something." you say smacking your lips. "They must ferment it differently." you say, basically to yourself but it catches his attention. You knew your ale.

"Yeah they ferment it at a higher temperature, makes it have that fruity taste to it." he educates you further.

"This local?" your voice inflects with curiosity, meeting his eyes with yours.

"Yeah. But you aren't are you?" he says with that same warm expression.

You shake your head. "No." you take another drink. "I live closer to the city but I work just a few blocks over at the little studio on the corner." you explain.

"That sounds cool. I didn't think I'd seen you around before." his eyes narrow in thought.

"It can be but not today." you shake your head. "I've driven by this place every day on my way to work and never stopped before. With my car in the shop and after the shit day I've had the appeal of alcohol and Zeppelin I heard from outside earlier I just couldn't resist." you shrug and take another bigger drink.

"Well, I'm glad you did. I'm Declan." he extends his hand, you're struck with the size of his arms as one swings closer to you.

"Thanks. Bella." you say with a more friendly tone. Now you weren't strangers. "This your bar?" you ask.

"She's mine alright." he nods proudly. Your eyes wander down the long thin space of the booths and bar, as he walks to the end, and to your surprise he walks over to you, pulling a stool from between his legs and sitting next to you, elbow propped up on the bar. You see a larger room lies past, it remains dark and you can't tell much. But the warmth you feel coming off of his large body, now daunting next to yours pulls your attention from your curiosity of it. He scratches his head, scrunching his face, you look up at him from under your brow as his biceps appearance throws you more off than you'd like to admit. You see he's in light washed, slightly baggy jeans, holes, and scuffs galore, just as you'd expect from what you'd seen of his upper half. His boots have much the same appearance as him, sturdy and worn. "What's brought you to me and my humble second home tonight, Bell?" he asks, head tilted, eyes matched to yours, the laid-back vibe he had put you at ease and you welcomed it as it and the ale warmed you up from the inside out.

"Oh I've had myself a fucking DAY, Declan." you say with a roll of your eyes. He seems to like the use of his name. He likes the way it sounds, seeming to come from you so easily and without any loaded backstory attached.

"Sounds like it." he says with a lazy smile.

"I don't want to just sit here and bitch at you while you're working." you say shaking your head, not wanting to take the entirety of the man's attention.

"It's a weeknight sweetheart, do I look busy?" he asks with a smirk. Your big green eyes move around the bar.

"You've got a point," you say with a nod, taking another drink. "If you want to hear me bitch I mean...I'll sure as hell oblige." you say with a shrug, and he smiles, chin raised to show he's listening.

"Well, it all started..." you begin.  You're about to get into the girl touching the recording equipment when a seemingly harmless middle-aged balding man bops around the corner of the back room you can't see.

"Gimmie a loooooong neck!" he shouts, drunk but not angry.

He turns with a frown of apology to you, which was needless but you appreciated it. "Get it yourself Gary, you've been drinking the same thing for 20 years." he shouts back, looking back at you will an animated roll of his eyes. When his eyes fall back on you, you're smiling. The first smile he'd seen since you came in. He knew he wanted to see more of them from you. "Don't mind him. You were saying something about a rejected sweet sixteen applicant?" he grins.

He listens, and intently, eyes always on you every time you look up from the bartop or from your bottle. He raises and slaps the bar top. "That's it girly." he says, moving back behind the bar again, "On the house." he states, putting another bottle in front of you.

"Wha-?" you ask with a wrinkled nose he finds charming.

"Your drinks tonight. On the house." he says as if it's obvious.

"Uh..." you stutter and show your surprise. "That's very kind of you but-"

"Nope. I see a dollar of your money and I'm not giving you any more of that." he grins, pointing to the bottle.

Damn, he was nice, you thought, a subtle frown on your face as he turns to reach for a bottle with a stopper in the top, sitting two shot glasses in front of you. Damn, he was really fucking nice.

"Christ, dude you giving me Jameson too?" your eyes are wide and you take a deep breath as he takes the glass in his hand, you mirror the action. "My ancestors applaud the choice." you say with a chuckle that he returns.

"Oh you're Irish?" his chin lowers and one eyebrow raises.

"Half yeah." you give a quick nod.

"Oh well then get the fuck outta here." he manages to get out without sputtering with laughter.

Your face scrunches up and you let out a louder laugh, your shoulders moving with it. "To..." you pause to think for a moment. "To this hangover not killing me tomorrow." you say with a wide smile he's thankful to see as proof that your mood is improving.

He nods, you tap your glasses on the bar top and shoot them back. "Won't think less of me for drinking on the job will ya?" he says with a smack of his lips.

"It's your fucking bar, man do whatever you want, who am I gonna tell?" you smirk.

So time passes and the drinks pass with it. People come in and out of the bar, you switch from stool to booth to pool table and back. You playfully argue about White vs Rob Zombie, as per the shirt you're wearing.

"At least I'm not Mr. Dad Rock over here, I bet you put on the B side of IV and give a girl a six pack and the panties just go FLYING don't they?" you say with a loud laugh he matches, both smacking at each other.

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," he says with a sigh, wiping his face as his eyes started watering from the goofiness of your banter through the night. "Sound a bit salty about it, to be honest." he teases.

You snort and smack his knee, "I might be speaking from both." you admit, a laugh that grows and you shut your eyes with it. "Who says you can't learn from your mistakes?" you say with a goofy shrug.”Even if it takes it a few times to stick.”

At this point in the night there are only two other people, as you're wiping the laughing tears from your eyes you notice this, then your phone lights up and you see the time. How the fuck was it past 10 already. You pick it up and look at it. "Fuck it's later than I thought." you say, pushing your hands on the countertop. You stand and feel his arm around you before you even realize your knees are knocking.

"Woah there, hun." he says, hands on your sides, eyes clearer than yours and concerned.

"Oh you went and got me fuckin' druuuunnnnnnnnk." you say in a deep scolding voice.

"In my defense, you did the drinkin' yourself there babe." he chuckles, still holding you steady as he stands.

"Never rode the bus wasted before. This'll be a fuckin' story to tell you next time I come in here for sure." Although he didn't think you wouldn't come back, he's glad to hear you were already thinking about it.

"You are not riding the bus like this, sweetheart. Not at this time of night." he says, shaking his head. "Not anytime actually. You baby foal. I thought you could handle your liquor."

"I can I've just been sitting for 12 hours straight haven't I? Makes the legs no worky." you explain with a frown and he laughs at you again.

"Whatever you gotta tell yourself." he pats your head, as you steady yourself with one hand.

"If I were shorter I'd be mad about that." you say. You hear him huff out a laugh as he moves behind the bar and retrieves a huge fur and leather coat. Guess he was human after all, he could be part sun god for all you knew. Maybe that's why those dudes warned you, a mere weak mortal walking into the den of god. Oh wow, you were drunk.

"You want a ride home hun?" he asks very politely with a hand on your shoulder. He was going to beg if he had to, he wasn't letting a nice girl like you alone whether you were drunk or not.

"Ugh," you say, putting your arms in your jacket in a fussy way. "It's like 20 minutes away Declan, I can't put you out like that I'll call an uber or somethin'."

"I close soon anyway, you aren't putting me out. Mike's here to lock up anyway." He didn't trust anyone else to make sure you got where you needed to go, feeling protective over you. Not many nice women came into his bar, he didn’t want you running away so soon. And of course he felt partially responsible for the amount of alcohol you'd consumed. He'd given you some shit over being drunk but damn did you hold it well. You weren't wobbly as you step away from the bar, bending at the knees and stretching your sides.

"Seeing as I've been seen here I don't think you'll murder me...Would you? Promise me you won't murder me and I'll let you take me home." you say with a nod, a smirk on your face as you shove one of your gloves into your mouth and pull the other on.

"I solemnly swear I will not murder you, Bell." he nods in a charming serious way.

You playfully narrow your eyes at him. "Cross your heart?" you say before a silly smile spreads across your face.

"And hope to die." he chuckles, moving his finger over his chest.

"Only a real fucking asshole would break one of those promises." you narrow your eyes again, tugging your hat on and moving towards the door. "And don't tell anyone but I don't think you're an asshole."

"Oh she's got compliments." he says with a fan of his face in jest at your words.

"Nah she's just drunk on Jameson." you laugh as he stands right behind you, reaching down to open the door. "Oh fuck." you whisper as the ice hits you immediately. It was snowing. And hard.

"Looks like you wouldn't be getting that bus tonight anyway." he says, pursing his lips, hand on your back as you make your way out the warm, sepia-toned confines of his bar and out into the crisp, cold biting air of the cool-toned night.

You make it a few steps before you slip, which for the state of the sidewalk, was not something that was to blame on your sobriety.

"Ya gotta be careful there babe." he says, catching you for the second time that night in his over sized hands, feeling their grip past the layers you wore.

"That isn't from being drunk, I promise. There's ice." you whine with wide, honest eyes looking up into his.

"I'm inclined to believe you." he says with another warm, whiskey toned softly spoken words.

"Wait. Can you drive? Are you drunk?" you suddenly recall. He laughs and puts a hand around your elbow, the other around your waist as you head down the sidewalk slowly.

"I am not." he says with a reassuring smile. "Takes a bit more to get me drunk than it does a little thing like you." he explains, no teasing in his voice. You suppose to him, everyone was little in comparison so you take no offense. ----- The weather's worse by the time he pulls into the small driveway you're extremely lucky to have in this part of town. The usual 20ish minute drive you'd promised had turned into almost an hour. You felt bad about him doing this. But then again you weren't used to the level of attention and thoughtfulness he seemed to naturally exude. He did drive slow but an untreated road no matter the speed was an obstacle in an of itself, even in a four-wheel drive.

"You...uhhh..." you start, your hand on the handle of the door of the truck. You purse your lips, brow furrowed as you force your eyes to meet him. "It's really shitty outside, do you want to come in for some coffee or tea or something before you try to get out in this?" your tone isn't suggestive, and he never took it that way.

"I-uh..." he begins the same as you. He didn't want you to think that him going inside had been part of this plan originally. Didn't want you to think he was that kind of guy. But you weren't being seductive, your face reading as more concerned than anything.  "Yeah." he nods. "At least wait to see if the salt trucks start running through anytime soon." he says, corner of his mouth pulled back.

"Alright. Good." you say, a half smile at him before you move to hop out of the truck. You're taking your time making your way up the walk as he comes up behind you, hand hovering behind you just in case. You dig into your pockets inside your jacket.

You switch a lamp on in a narrow hallway, he takes in the hardwood floors, a colorful long rug lays down the hallway that leads to a darkened archway.  You throw your keys on a hook, taking off your layers. "Lock the door behind you please," you say, toeing off your boots. "Hang that cool ass coat up before I try to steal it." you say with a pleasant smile.

"Oh thanks." he says with a proud little grin, following instructions. 

You lean across a doorway, slapping a wall and hitting a switch, multiple lamps come on in the living room. "Go ahead and make yourself comfy." you say, moving your face back to him before turning to walk down the hall. "And don't mind Robert, he won't bother you."

"Robert?" he asks, eyes looking over the aesthetically pleasing room, walls decorated in paintings, framed records, and hanging guitars.  You were getting more and more appealing the longer he stayed around which enticed him to see where the night would go. He opens his phone to the weather, to see just how bad it's supposed to get.

"Yeah my cat." you call from the kitchen. A light switches on, another doorway illuminated to him as he looks up to see you moving around an exposed brick and steel filled kitchen.

"You named your cat Robert?" he laughs, looking up, his eyes landing on a small bookcase, filled with vinyl. His lips form an excited O as he moves and kneels in front of the records.

"Yeah, he's a little weird. He likes to sit in the flower pot in the window all and do nothing like a plant." you explain, he hears a tap turn on, a fridge open and close.

"So you named him Robert?" he asks with a questioning laugh.

Your head appears are the corner. "Yeah. Robert Plant." you say with a straight face as his head tilts with an exasperated expression of 'really?' at you. A huge smart assed grin appears on your face.

"Clever girl." he says, looking back to the shelves.

"I'm starving Declan, you want something?" your hand rests on your rounded out hip.

"What ya got?" he asks, raising and moving to lean in the doorway as you stand before an open fridge.

"Well. I was thinking some grilled cheese and bacon or something."

"Fuck yes." he says in a drawn-out deep way that makes you immediately turn and laugh at him.

"My sentiments exactly." you say, moving to retrieve the ingredients and plant yourself in front of the stove. He's planted himself in front of the records, you hear noises of approval so you think his review of your taste will be good.

"Oh hey little man!" you hear him exclaim. Robert must've decided to appear. You hear the familiar meow. "Oh you're a cute, big-eyed thing aren't you?" you hear him coo, the sweet tone making you smile. Robert did have a bit of a mushed face, bless him, with big orange eyes that were a touch too googly for his fluffy calico body, but you loved him just the same. "What a funky little dude." you hear him praise the meowing ball of fluff. You laugh out loud at the comment.

"No one wanted to adopt him because he is a little disproportioned, the poor baby." you explain. "But I saw him and his scruffy little face and I just fell in love with him."

He smiles contently at the cat, your words just giving him more reason to like you, you were a low key sweetheart, he could tell that much in all the...six or so hours he'd known you. How was it only that much time? You felt like old friends already. The cat quickly loses interest and goes towards the delicious smell coming from the kitchen. He moves back to inspecting your musical compatibility, you were doing very well so far. Rock and Roll in general, a touch of harder, a touch of softer. Good bit of Motown and disco, some newer looking records that he didn't know of and this intrigued him.

You walk into the room, a plate in each hand, each holding two grilled cheese sandwiches, multicolored cheese and bacon chunks oozing out the side. "C'mon." you motion your head towards the couch.

"I knew that smell was making my mouth water but they look even better than they smell somehow." he says, licking his lips at the sight. So he was motivated by food it seemed, and who could blame him. It wasn't like you learned how to cook because you hated food.

You set yours down on the coffee table before retreating into the kitchen and returning with bottled water, two cups, and a small teapot. You pour him a cup, your hands steady as the liquid steamed.

"They could taste like shit." you say with a straight face and he laughs, taking the plate from you as you sit cross-legged on the sofa next to him.

"There's no way in hell." he says, both hands on the sandwich already. You place the plate in your lap and move to take a bite. You both moan on contact.

"Fuck." you groan.

"Shit." he exclaims. "Bell, these are amazing." he says, another bite taken before the first is even swallowed. You can't help but feel proud. When the only other person you cook for, your friend Charlotte, is super picky it's harder to enjoy cooking because you so rarely got an enthusiastic reaction like his was without any coaxing.

"Thanks." you say after swallowing, not inhaling yours in the same manner, you sip your tea and watch him happily devour the plate of food quickly. You aren't even finished with your first sandwich and you give him a closed mouth, happy smile.

"These representative of your taste in music?" he asks, cutting the silence, hand motioning towards the bookcase.

"Oh yeah. I mean, I usually just listen to one of the music apps but I'm still a sucker for vinyl for things I really like." you nod in explanation. "Also just stuff I find at flea markets that strikes me as interesting, so it's a mixed bag. I just like some of the old album art."

"Oh yeah I get that." he says with a nod, eyes moving to the walls. "Like these?" he asks, the framed series of records on the wall to your right.

"Yeah, except that one." you point to one in the corner. "That's the first one I ever played on that we did at the studio."

"Guitar I'm assuming?" he nods to the two hanging on the wall, one a worn acoustic and one a matte black axe. What an interesting combination, he thought.

"Assuming right." you say after chewing another bite. "I went through a real big 80's metal phase and bought the axe on a whim." you chuckle while you chew.

"Looks cool as hell." he says with an impressed pursing of his lips.

"Agreed." you grin smugly before sipping your tea.

"You get to play a lot on the stuff you record down there?" he's leaned back on the couch now, phone left on the coffee table by yours, eyes intently watching you.

"Sometimes. I do rhythm and the technical aspects the most. But on that one I had to stand in for their guitarist after he got in a fight and broke some fingers...so I stepped in." you elaborate, finishing off your sandwiches.

"That sounds really cool. Seriously." he gives an enthusiastic series of nods.

"Well I think being a bar owner sounds cool." you say with a shrug.

"Sometimes." he says with a nod, withholding his usual enthusiasm so you change the subject.

"What's the verdict on the weather?" you ask, taking the plates to the kitchen.

"Mmmm..." he hums, looking it up on his phone, you walk from the kitchen, switching off the light and moving to the big window in the living room.

By the noise you make he knows the verdict of your judgment on the aggression of the storm to not be favorable. "I'm afraid it's not good, dude." you say, still looking out the window and shaking your head.

"This says much the same." he grumbles, raising to stand behind you and get a look himself. The roads still untouched, his truck already covered in a layer of snow.

"Uhhh...Declan?" you say hesitantly.

"Yeah Bells?" he asks, you both look to each other.

"You're gonna have to stay. You realize that right?" the corner of mouth draws up in thought.

"Is that..." he starts, pausing to shift his eyes for a moment. "Is that okay?" he hesitantly asks. "I don't want you to think that's what this was about."

"Don’t worry,  we're on the same page. I didn't want you to think I was getting fresh with you. You're just...you're nice and I don't want you putting yourself in danger in this." you admit.

"Well aren't you sweet." he smiles down at you.

"Eh. Wait till you deal with me in the morning and then see if you want to say that." you laugh, shutting the curtains. "I'm gonna grab some blankets." you say, moving into the closed door off a small hallway near the corner of the living room.

You appear again, a stack of comforters and pillows that tower over your head. As soon as he see's you with them he moves to take them from you.

"Couch is a pull-out, by the way. No way your tall ass is gonna be comfy otherwise." you laugh as you move pillows.

"You don't have to move stuff on my account." he hurriedly says, setting down the pillows into an empty chair.

"Hush, you brought me home and didn't have to, I can move some metal a few feet for you," you say with the shake of your head. "You can pull the coffee table over there though." you point to the far side of the room. 

So you've got it all out, blankets, pillows, space heater, all boxes checked.

"Alright. Remotes are there if you can't sleep, phone chargers on the side table, get whatever you want out of the kitchen. I'm the door on the left if you need me." you motion to the dark wooden door in the small hallway he'd seen you retreat to earlier. "You good?" you inquire, eyebrows high at him.

"More than, sweetheart, you talk about me being nice." he says with a smirk.

"Like I said. Just wait." you nod and chuckle. You move to switch off the lights, the glow of the space heater now the main source of illumination. "Night Declan." you lilt as you round the corner.

"Night Bella." he says in a soft, sweet tone that you let make your face form into a girlish smile since he can no longer see it.

CHAPTER 2

[spine-buster]

I Thought You Might Be Mine (Ricochet) - Part II

January 3, 2016 Tokyo, Japan

Iris was jetlagged.  After going home for the holidays and boarding a plane on New Year’s Day still a little bit drunk from the night before (naturally), it had taken her longer than usual to catch up with the time difference in Tokyo.  Today, she was struggling.  She was struggling to stay awake.  She was struggling to be on time to things.  She was struggling to get her life back on track after her vacation.  Especially since Wrestle Kingdom – the show of all wrestling shows in Japan – was tomorrow.  She knew she should have booked the earlier flight and been in the air during New Year’s.

Despite her fatigue, when Trevor asked her to go shopping with him, she couldn’t say no.  He’d taken a flight at the same time she did, out of Chicago, but because he was some sort of superhuman Spiderman, jetlag wasn’t affecting him as badly as it was for her.  He wanted to go shopping for some new clothes.  He wanted to go to the New Japan store to buy some shirts.  He wanted to buy some cool Japanese stuff for Cameron.  

Iris trudged along with him, holding the bags of shirts from the New Japan store and the stuff he got for Cameron.  She felt like a mule.  Trevor was so chipper she wanted to hit him.  In Uniqlo, he purposely kept giving her clothes to hold for him, even though they were too small, just so the load would get heavier and heavier.  When he finally went into the change room to try everything on, it was the first time she was able to sit since she woke up that morning.  She would have fallen asleep if it wasn’t for Trevor’s quick turnaround time.

“What do you think about these?” Trevor asked as he stepped out of the change room, displaying a pair of perfect fitting jeans.  

“For the last time Trev, it looks good.  They all look good,” she said.

“Why you so cranky?”

“Because I need sleep!” she exclaimed.  “Or a coffee!  Or both!  Why you continue to torture me with this fashion show is beyond me.”

“You could have said something,” Trevor grumbled.  “How am I supposed to know you’re tired?”

Iris facepalmed.  Boys were literally oblivious to everything.  Everything.  Unless you put a cone around their head to shield their eyes from distractions and yelled your point in their face, they understood nothing.  It was exhausting.  “Does the fact I’m practically falling asleep in this chair not warrant anything?”

Trevor rolled his eyes.  He was lucky they were practically best friends or else Iris would have gotten annoyed.  “Let me buy this stuff, then we’ll go get some coffee.  Maybe that’ll wake you up.”

“Thank you.”

True to his word, Trevor changed back into his clothes and bought everything he wanted to as quickly as he could.  They walked along the street for about ten minutes, finding a Starbucks to sit in and grab a coffee, as promised.  After lamenting about getting a sweet snack (maybe an extra dose of sugar would really wake her up), Iris settled against it.  As per usual, she ordered for the both of them.  

“Go sit, I’ll wait for the coffee,” he said, motioning to one of the few empty tables left in the store.  

“Nah, it’s alright.  I gotta add --”

“It’s two sugars, right?” he winked.

“Um, it’s only one.”

“Girl, please,” Trevor smiled.  “You sneak two sugars in there all the time.  Don’t think I don’t know your coffee order or else I’ll get offended.”

Iris couldn’t formulate words.  He knew her coffee order?  He knew she snuck extra sugar into her already sugary order?  She tried hard not to smile.  She knew they were close, and that they hung out all the time, and that he was considerate, and loyal, and caring, so knowing her coffee order shouldn’t have been such a surprise, but she couldn’t believe he knew.  It was hard to keep the smile off her face the more she realized.  “You’re the bee’s knees, Trev.”

“Go sit.”

Iris managed to get a table by the window, which was nice because she liked to people watch.  Not long after she sat down, Trevor arrived with their coffees.  She took her first sip and smiled.  Coffee was the nectar of the gods and she had no problem admitting she was addicted.

“Is it good?” he asked.  “Enough sugar?”

Iris nodded her head.  It was perfect.  “Hopefully it kicks my ass into gear.”

“I can always give you a Monster if you want,” he offered.

Iris shuddered.  “Those things are horrible for you heart.  I don’t know how you guys drink them regularly.  They’re fucking gross.”

Trevor laughed at her statement but decided not to say anything.  Instead, he took in the sight of her as the natural light from the window illuminated one side of her face.  She did look tired, now that he really looked at her.  It just occurred to him that despite how tired she was, she still followed him all over Tokyo to go shopping.  He wondered if any of the guys he knew who traveled in for Wrestle Kingdom tomorrow would have done the same thing.  He didn’t think any of them would.

“How’s Tessa doing?” Iris asked suddenly, stirring her latte casually.  

Trevor shrugged his shoulders.  “She’s fine.  Still at home with her family.”

“You didn’t want her to come?”

Trevor shook his head.  “I didn’t see the need.”

Iris was a little taken aback by his statement, but she tried not to show it.  Tessa was his girlfriend, after all, regardless of how short they had been dating.  If she recalled correctly, their official anniversary was sometime in September.  “Really?  You didn’t want your girlfriend here as you wrestle at Wrestle Kingdom?” she asked.

“Listen, I know I’m gonna sound like a dick, but I didn’t want to have to babysit her if she was here,” he explained.  “I would have had to take her places, show her things…you know what I mean.  I wouldn’t have been able to focus.  I wouldn’t have been able to hang out with you…or, uh, you know, the guys…cause I would have been to preoccupied with making sure she was having a good time.”

“She’s a big girl, Trev.  I think she would have been able to take care of herself,” Iris commented.

“You’ve never met Tessa,” he said.  “I mean, she’s amazing, but she’s a bit needy.”

Iris didn’t exactly want to hear Trevor complain about his new girlfriend.  Despite how close they were, she felt awkward hearing his lamentations about Tessa, especially since Iris had never met her yet.  She didn’t want to form an opinion about the girl before she even met her.  “Well, you’re here now,” she said in an attempt to change the subject.  “You nervous for tomorrow?”

Trevor perked up a bit at the mention of tomorrow.  “More excited than nervous.  We’re all gonna make that tag match awesome.”

“Have they called it yet?”

“No.  But I think it’s going to the Bucks.”

“Excuse me sir?  This is for you and your date,” a barista suddenly approached their table.  Her voice was soft as she spoke Japanese, looking between Trevor and Iris with a smile on her face, holding a plate with a double chocolate brownie.  

“Trev, what did you --”

“Arigato,” Trevor bowed his head slightly as he took the plate from the barista.  

“Trevor,” Iris deadpanned.  “You’re unbelievable.”

“We can share,” he winked at her again, and it was only when he said that did Iris notice two forks on the plate set in the middle of the table.  “Might have to spend an extra ten minutes in the gym tomorrow though.  Can’t be wreckin’ this flawless physique.”

“Get out of here,” Iris mumbled, grabbing her fork.

The coffee hadn’t helped.  The brownie hadn’t given Iris a sugar rush.  When this was noted to Trevor, he offered for her to take a nap at his hotel a few blocks away instead of having to take the Tokyo metro back to her place.  She didn’t think she said yes to something so quickly since she got back to Japan.

“I’m sorry I’m being such an old lady,” Iris said as Trevor flashed his keycard to open the door.  “What are you gonna do while I nap?”

“I could use a nap too.”

Iris didn’t want to protest.  She knew he was doing it only so she wouldn’t feel embarrassed, so she didn’t say anything, instead only shrugging her shoulders.  After walking in and taking off her purse, she watched as Trevor threw an extra pillow onto the side she would inevitably now sleep on.  God, he even knew she liked to sleep with two pillows.  

She collapsed onto the bed, Trevor plugging in his phone.  “I’ll sent an alarm for an hour?” he asked.

“Sure,” she mumbled, her eyelids already closing on her.  

She could feel Trevor’s weight on the bed as he moved closer towards her body, curling up against her body perfectly.  Truth be told, this wasn’t the first time they had been in this position, or this physically…close.  There had been countless times during tours or bullet train journeys were her legs would be on his lap, or his head would rest on her shoulder.  The good thing about Trevor was that he knew his boundaries.  In that way, he was always respectful to Ryder.  Iris assumed he wouldn’t want any guy hanging out with a girlfriend of his to be too touchy, either.

His body heat made up for the fact that they were napping on top of the covers.  His body was always so warm; it was one of the things she loved about him.  It’s what made his hugs some of the best in the world.  “You alright?” he mumbled.  

As she nodded her head, his phone began to ring.  He took his sweet time moving away from her to check it on the nightstand, grumbling before setting it back down and curling back against her body.  

The phone rang longer than normal, which made Iris assume the person had hung up and called again right after the first call.  “Who is it?”

“Tessa.”

Iris didn’t say anything.  She knew she should, but she couldn’t bring herself to.  When the ringing stopped, she finally started to lull into sleep.

Until the phone rang again three minutes later.

“Fuck sakes,” Trevor grumbled angrily.  He moved quickly, putting his ringer on silent before curling back against her body a second time.  

“Maybe you should phone her back,” Iris mumbled.  Trevor’s arm draped over her body as she did, letting her know he wasn’t planning to anytime soon.  

“She’ll live.”

“Trev.”

“I just want to lay here with you for a while.  Is that too much to ask?”

She didn’t want to argue with him.  Again.  She was too tired and perhaps too selfish as she lay in his bed, in his hotel room, with his body pressed against hers, with his hand draped over her.  It wasn’t the best decision she ever made, but it wasn’t the worst either.  

“You know you’re still my number one, right?” Trevor whispered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Remember when I saved you that piece of ahi tuna the first night we met and you said you liked me best?”

“Mhm.”

“Same thing.  I like you best.  You’re still my number one.”

A chill ran up Iris’s spine.  “Shouldn’t Tessa be your number one?”

“You’re still it, baby.”

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