#and i feel like the caffeine i had from mocha coffee earlier doesn’t help | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

baepsaesbae · 4 years

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Parang Kape Ko. Bittersweet. || Just Like My Coffee. Bittersweet

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x reader

Genre— Fluff/Romance, Enemies to Lovers au, coffee shop au

Warnings— None

Word Count— 1.8k

Summary— You work at a coffee shop with the most annoying person ever. Kim Taehyung.

A/N— Thank you @kitsutaes for requesting! I hope you like it darling. You can still request drabbles up until the end of the August with this post

You couldn’t quite place it. Something about Taehyung made your skin crawl since the very first day you laid eyes on him. To make matters worse, your manager kept pairing you together for nearly every shift (she couldn’t help it, she thought you guys looked cute together).

You despised the way girls would giggle and try to subtly give him their number after ordering their drink. You rolled your eyes every time he’d wink and flirt back with them. Each shift with just the two of you was unbearable.

Taehyung was naturally a player, anyone could see that. Women would swoon from a mere flash of a smile. They’d be putty in his hands with a simple wink. That being said, Taehyung was so taken aback when his charms didn’t work on you. He couldn’t figure out what he did to tick you off, but it seemed like you didn’t like him from the start. That was a concept he couldn’t fathom.

It was like a never ending game of tag that you didn’t want to play, and you couldn’t risk Taehyung finally catching up to you. The more you showed your disdain for Taehyung, the more intrigued he’d be by you, thus spurring him to pester you even more.

“Hey grumpy grump! How was your weekend?” Taehyung greeted you as you clocked in.

“It was fine. Yours?” you replied with indifference.

“It was chill, kinda lowkey. I actually found a cool hole in the wall restaurant that I thought maybe we could--”

“I’m busy,” you interrupted without looking at him.

“But I didn’t even say when--”

“You don’t need to. I’m very busy all the time,” you walked away to prep the machines before Taehyung could even reply.

“C’mon, just give me a chance! It doesn’t even have to be a date. I genuinely want to get to know you. Why do you hate me so much?” Taehyung pouted as he followed you around like a lost puppy.

“Prep the tables and chairs, please,” you commanded without acknowledging his whining.

“Yes ma’am. See? I’m such a good boy, I always listen to you,” he called out from across the cafe as he unstacked chairs.

You ignored him. This was your normal routine every time you worked with Taehyung. He seemed to get a thrill every time he riled you up, so you’ve learned not to give him the satisfaction. Straight up ignoring him was the best way to go.

Taehyung became preoccupied with taking orders once the customers started piling in. You absentmindedly made the drinks, a task that you could now do with your eyes closed. You thought about what Taehyung said. Sure, he’s an annoying prick who knows he’s too handsome for his own good, but does that really justify your hatred for him?

You hated to admit it, but Taehyung is the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life. Your heart fluttered every time he teased you, and though you gave off the impression that you wouldn’t care if he disappeared off the face of the Earth, you were secretly pleased with the attention he gave you. On occasion, you’ve caught glimpses of random girls glaring at you while Taehyung was messing around with you.

You shook your head as you powered up the blender to make a double mocha frappe with 2 extra shots of espresso. What the hell were you thinking? This is exactly why you don’t like Taehyung. He lives in your mind rent free.

“I think that frappe is blended enough,” Taehyung observed. He appeared out of nowhere, startling you.

“You good?” he asked with a hint of concern.

“I’m fine,” you answered curtly as you handed him the drink.

“Frappe for Tiffany!” Taehyung called out before returning his attention to you, “I was serious earlier by the way. This little game of ours is fun, but I honestly want to get to know you. Plus, you never actually talk to me so I don’t know what I did to make you hate my guts or whatever. Unless you’re like a massive introvert or something. I’d respect that of course, but like I said I literally wouldn’t know that because you never talk to me so--”

“Okay! Fine! I’ll go with you to that stupid restaurant. Will you finally shut up now?” you snapped.

“Aw, so you do listen when I talk to you. It’s a date! Or not, that’s up to you. You free after this shift?” he lifted his eyebrows with excitement.

“Yeah,” you begrudgingly nodded.

The rest of the shift flew by with the nonstop stream of customers. The morning rush is always tough, but Taehyung handled the flow perfectly every time. His demeanor calms even the most irate caffeine addicted customers.

“I’m starving,” Taehyung announced as he clocked out.

“What kind of food does the restaurant serve?” you asked as your stomach rumbled.

“Hamburgers!” Taehyung beamed.

“Cool. Text me the address and I’ll meet you there,” you say as you head towards your car.

“Wait! It’s actually not too far from here. There’s no need to take two vehicles,” Taehyung rubbed the back of his neck.

“Do you wanna ride in my car?” you asked quizzically.

“Actually I wanted to take you for a ride. On my bike,” he quickly added.

“Sure I guess. You got a little basket for me to ride in or something?” you attempted to be friendly.

“Not quite. I don’t have a spare helmet, but I can assure you that I’m a safe driver,” he says as he leads you to his parking spot.

“You have a moped?” you asked in shock. You couldn’t help but smile at the cute little lavender moped that Taehyung probably zips around on every day.

“Yeah, I love this little sucker. It used to be my sister’s, that’s why it’s purple. But it’s badass on the streets,” Taehyung patted the seat.

“So where am I sitting?” you asked even though you already knew the answer.

“You’d be safest sitting behind me. You can hold onto me if you’d like. For safety reasons, of course,” he smiled.

You climbed onto the moped after him. You didn’t want to hold onto him, but you whimpered and quickly wrapped your arms around him as soon as he took off. The tiny moped was surprisingly fast, and since it was so small, you could practically feel every bump on the road.

Taehyung smirked as you hung onto him tightly. “Cute,” he thought.

Taehyung’s scent enveloped you as you leaned into his back. You’ve grown accustomed to his smell since you were always together at work, but being up close and personal with him was a different story. He had a comforting smell that made you want to snuggle up to him even more. You wondered which cologne he was wearing, just in case you wanted to pick it up for yourself.

You felt how solid his torso was as you clung to him. Your thoughts lingered to his earlier question yet again. Why did you hate him so much? He really didn’t seem like a bad guy. In fact, the opposite is true. Sure he could be a bit flirty, but he was also always kind and gentle. You realized that he never flirted with the customers first, he simply returned their energy.

“We’re here!” Taehyung happily announced.

He led you into a small restaurant that appeared to be family owned. The owners greeted Taehyung by his first name, indicating that he’s probably a regular customer.

“Welcome in! And who’s this lovely lady you brought with you?” the man greeted.

“Taehyung! Is this this coffee shop girl? She’s just as gorgeous as you said she wa--” his wife began to ramble until Taehyung cut her off.

“I’ll have two of the usuals please. Oh, and two sodas. Thanks guys,” Taehyung ordered quickly before bringing you over to a small table in the corner.

“How much do I owe you?” you inquired as you took out your wallet.

“Nothing. This is my treat. I’m surprised you finally agreed to hangout with me,” Taehyung smiled as he shifted his weight in his chair.

“What was that lady saying before you ordered?” you tilted your head.

“She uh, was telling me about the daily special,” Taehyung lied.

“No she wasn’t. I was right next to you, Taehyung. Am I the coffee shop girl?” you teased, delighted that the tables have turned.

“I mean you are a girl and you do work in a coffee shop. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re THE coffee shop girl…” Taehyung was flustered.

“Is this a date or are we just hanging out?” you pressed further.

“Which would you like it to be?” Taehyung retorted.

“I asked first,” you countered.

“I guess I can’t argue with that. I would prefer this to be a date. But since you hate me I’d happily settle for us just hanging out,” he admitted.

“I wouldn’t say that I hate you…” you trailed off.

“Oh really? Then why do you always ignore me and only talk to me to boss me around. I find that hot by the way, but we don’t have to get into that right now,” he smirked.

“I...I don’t know. Your face always bothered me I suppose,” you answered thoughtfully.

“My face?” Taehyung burst out into a fit of laughter, “___, am I so ugly that you just can’t stand being around me?”

“The opposite actually. Oh what the hell, we’re here anyway. You’re so goddamn handsome it’s aggravating. You’re so nice it’s unnerving. And when you talk to me it’s like you’ve known me forever. If I didn’t act so cold towards you I would’ve fallen for you so easily,” you finally got everything off of your chest.

An awkward silence filled the room and you began to regret coming clean. The owner came by with the burgers and you noticed the ketchup was done in the shape of a heart.

“Damn,” was all that Taehyung replied after a while.

You silently nodded as you bit into your burger.

“I’m glad I kept bugging you then. I thought you were a cutie during orientation. I knew you weren’t actually a bitch because I’ve seen the way you interact with people who aren’t me. You’re such a sweetheart. Also please don’t think I’m a creep for watching you at work sometimes,” he chuckled.

“I’m sorry for being so cold towards you. I’m not really good with processing emotions and all that,” you blushed, “But now that everything's out in the open, I’d be willing to let my walls down I guess.”

“Sure. We can take it one date at a time. And maybe you could actually talk to me at work?” Taehyung gave you big puppy eyes.

“Maybe. I’ll see what I can do,” you failed to suppress a smile.

Kim Taehyung might not be too shabby after all.

#bts fluff #taehyung fluff #bts drabble #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #taehyung drabble #paralumanplaylist #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic

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works-of-fanfiction · 4 years

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I’m Right Here [Platonic!Bucky Barnes x Reader]

Summary: The reader wakes Bucky up from a nightmare and helps to calm him down, and distract him from it.

Pairing: Platonic!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None.

Word count: 3.3k

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Minutes after falling asleep, you’re awoken by a piercing scream coming from the other end of the hall. You shoot up in bed, your eyes darting around your own room before you hear the scream again. With your eyes quickly adjusting to your surroundings, you push the covers off of you and slide out of the bed.

You’re not sure what to expect as you walk down the hall, trying to approach the situation with a matter of urgency whilst also remaining scarce. There’s a third scream, and you abandon the idea of being cautious as you run down the hall, turning on the lights. “Who’s there?” You call out, only to receive silence as a response. It’s in that silence that you hear the struggled breaths and the whimpers of someone in distress. You only share the floor with one other person, and your heart is pounding by the time you fling his door open.

“Bucky,” your voice can barely reach above a whisper as you rush to his bedside. He’s covered in sweat, writhing around beneath the covers as if they’re smothering him. He mutters something repeatedly but you can’t work out what it is. You kneel by the bed, reaching out to grab his wrist, “Bucky, wake up.” You‘re gentle at first, nudging his arm and tapping the back of his hand. His fingers curl around the sheets and grip them so tightly that his knuckles begin to turn white. That’s when you get on to the bed and grab both of his arms, prising the covers out of his tight grip.

“Bucky, come on!” Your tone is desperate, and you can’t bear the thought of what he could be dreaming about. The man had been through too much, too many horrors that you counted yourself lucky for never having to experience. “Bucky, wake up!” You’re practically yelling as you squeeze his wrists, hoping the tension will bring him out of his nightmare.

He shudders once more before his eyes shoot open, startling you as you instantly let go of his arms and watch them fall back onto the mattress. Bucky looks around the room, out of breath and panting as he runs a hand through his matted hair. “Y/N,” he croaks, his voice hoarse as he studies your concerned expression.

“Are you alright?” You ask softly, reaching out once more and laying your hand on top of his. His skin is hot and his hand shaky. You hush him whilst stroking the back of his hand with your thumb.

“Just uh - Just a bad, a bad dr - a nightmare. Just a nightmare,” he stammers. He doesn’t want you to worry or pity him so he tries to brush it off. He tries to ignore the terror he sees inside his own head, and how he’s forced to relive it when he closes his eyes at night. It’s the main reason he’s a night owl and pushes himself to stay awake as late as possible. The less time he spends asleep, the less he has to endure the sheer torment of his past.

You’re silent as Bucky continues to catch his breath. He pushes himself up in bed and props a pillow behind him, sliding his legs out of the covers and laying them flat like a starfish. “I - I haven’t had one in a while,” he admits, not really looking at you. He’s embarrassed and ashamed of everything he did as the Winter Soldier. He knows it was all against his own will and that he had no control over his actions, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling like a fool for still suffering because of it.

He’s visibly shaken despite his efforts to appear calm and unbothered by the nightmare. You wish to hold him and comfort him properly, but you know he wouldn’t give into that. If there was one thing you knew about Bucky Barnes, it was that he’s stubborn and doesn’t appreciate sympathy.

“I’ll um -“ you start awkwardly, standing up from his bed and clasping your hands behind your back, “I’ll let you rest.”

“No!” Bucky calls over just as you’re reaching for the door. You look back at him and his facial expression is plagued with fear, almost as if he’s scared to go back to sleep. “Stay... please.” Bucky can barely believe it as he hears himself begging for you to stay. He doesn’t want your pity, but he also dreads the idea of laying back down and tuning back into the nightmare. His mind had an awful habit of doing that, picking up dreams right where they’d left off.

“Oh, okay,” you give him a comforting smile as he shuffles to the side to leave you some room on the bed. You sit down beside him and the space he once filled is warm. In fact, the whole room is stifling hot and the extra heat radiating from Bucky’s sweaty, post-nightmare body makes it worse.

“Shall we go for a walk?” You ask suddenly, your eyes flitting to where the clock reads 5:03am. It’s starting to get light outside and you’re certain you won’t be able to fall back to sleep again anytime soon.

“That would be nice,” Bucky offers you a weak smile as he sits up. You agree to meet him in the foyer in ten minutes before heading back to your room to put some more suitable clothes on. You can’t be bothered to get dressed properly, so you throw on a hoodie and some sweats over your pyjamas. You quickly brush your teeth so as to not curse Bucky further with your morning breath, then head down to meet him.

He’s ready and waiting when you get down there and the sun is already peeking through the windows. Your hands slide into your pockets as you both head out of the building, the fresh air hitting you in the face immediately. It had been a long time since you’d been awake and active this early in the day and you compared yourself to a vampire as you winced at the brightness of the sky.

“Where should we go?” Bucky asks casually, seeming a lot calmer than ten minutes prior. You agree to wander into the city with hopes of grabbing breakfast at wherever opens first. The morning is brisk, and you link an arm with your exhausted friend as the two of you stroll down the road.

Bucky can’t help but notice the way you shiver every time the breeze hits you, so he stops in his tracks and shrugs his jacket off. “Bucky, you’ll freeze, I -“

“No I won’t, but you might. Now put it on,” he insists, holding it up for you to slide your arms into. You know there’s no use in arguing with him, so you sigh and slip into the oversized jacket. It’s comfortable and certainly warm, and the extra length in the sleeves serves as makeshift gloves for your cold, reddening fingers.

The walk is peaceful and Bucky is great company. Although he’s quiet, the little pieces of conversation here and there are strangely comforting. You can tell he’s feeling shy about what happened earlier, and you mentally dare yourself to ask about it later, perhaps when you’ve sat down somewhere. You keep your arm linked with his and stay close to him as you cross a final road into the city. It’s already bustling with traffic and pedestrians charging up and down the pavement. The two of you notice the shutters of a nearby breakfast bar opening, so you head over there to become the first customers of the day.

With both yours and Bucky’s eyes still struggling to adjust to the bright morning light, you opt for a table towards the back of the room. It’s closer to the kitchen though, so the wonderfully enticing smell of freshly cooked pastries fills your nostrils. You watch as employees go back and forth, filling the display cases with all manners of delicious items, from buttery croissants to mouth-watering chocolate cream eclairs. You wish you could order one of everything, but Bucky changes your mind as he waves his menu in front of your face and points at the pictures. Now you’re thinking about hash browns, bacon, eggs...

“Can I get you two started off with some drinks?” A waitress comes over to ask. Bucky orders a simple black Americano with an extra shot, and you choose to have a decaf mocha with extra whipped cream. You hope to get a little bit more sleep later so you stay off the caffeine. The waitress returns with your drinks almost immediately, and you wonder how she was so quick before remembering that you were the only customers so far. She places your drinks down on the table along with some complimentary slices of toast that are assembled on a rack, with sachets of butter and various jams. The breakfast bar boasts about its ‘British Inspired Menu’, and you suddenly remember Bucky’s passion for the classic Full English Breakfast. “I’ll give you both a moment to decide what you’d like to order.”

Bucky instantly reaches for the toast, smothering it in marmalade like he often does back at the compound. You’d lost count of how many times you’d found him in the kitchen late at night, a stack of toast in his hand as a ‘midnight snack’. He almost finishes the slice in one bite, and you’re tempted to scold him for eating so fast like a greedy child. Instead you just sit back giggling to yourself as he digs into a second slice, groaning with satisfaction.

“Do you always eat like you haven’t touched food in years?” You mock. Bucky opens his eyes and pretends to frown at you, only to smile at you within seconds.

“I’m just a big fan of breakfast,” he grins, taking another bite and letting crumbs settle all over his face and down his front. You grab your napkin and dust at his chest, sending crumbs flying everywhere.

“You’re such a messy eater.”

“Chill out, Mom,” he sends you a wink and you shake your head.

“Might I remind you, you’re old enough to be my Grandfather.”

“Sweetheart, I may be old, but I can still kick some ass.”

“But you can’t eat toast properly?”

“Shut up,” he jokingly huffs before taking a drink of his coffee. The waitress returns and you both order a full breakfast with all the trimmings. After all, you were out and about before 7am - you deserved the reward.

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence, sipping on your drinks and listening to the faint music coming from behind the counter. There’s more customers appearing now, and you’re glad to be sat away from the entrance so you’re not in the midst of a draught every time somebody opens the door.

You study Bucky’s facial expression as he stares out of the window behind you. You can see that he’s thinking deeply about something, but you’re not sure how to ask without potentially making it worse or upsetting him. He lifts his hand to his mouth and picks at the skin on his thumb, causing you to reach over and yank his hand away.

His gaze snaps back to you as if he’s been brought back to reality and his lips press into a tight line. “You’ll make your fingers sore,” you state, taking another drink of your coffee.

“Sorry, just thinking,” he mumbles, unable to stop fidgeting as his body shakes a little from the bouncing of his knee under the table.

“About the dream?” You ask cautiously, hoping it doesn’t upset him. His face twitches like he’s relived the entire thing in his head in a millisecond, and you start to regret even saying anything. “Forget I asked Bucky, I didn’t mean to -“

“No it’s okay. You’re bound to be curious.”

Just as you’re about to take the plunge and ask more, your breakfast arrives. Steam rises from the plates and the individual scents of each item make you salivate. You both say your thanks to the waitress before digging in. Bucky remains silent as he eats and you can’t help but wonder if you’ve annoyed him. After all, he’d already shared details of what he could remember to you all. You’d already heard the terrible things he went through. Perhaps he figured that you didn’t need to be told again.

You both finish eating and pay your bill, but not before picking up some of the fresh pastries to take back to the compound with you. You grabbed a large helping in hopes it would be enough for everyone back home, before leaving with Bucky in tow.

“Should we head back?” You ask, the now stronger breeze hitting you so you’re barely able to see behind your messy, windswept hair. Bucky reaches over and parts it down the middle, pushing it out of your eyes. He then reaches behind you and grabs the hood of his jacket, sitting it on your head and tucking your hair neatly beneath it. “Thanks,” you smile.

“We could take the long way, enjoy the walk?” He suggests as he tucks his own unruly locks behind his ears.

“Sounds like a plan.”

You both carry paper bags filled with baked goods and it’s hard to stop yourself from eating something right away. There’s a cinnamon bun in Bucky’s bag with your name on it for later, and you’re not going to let anyone steal it. You look down and notice that Bucky’s grip on his bag is almost as tight as the grip he held on his bedsheets earlier that morning. You want to reach out and take his hand in yours to soothe him, but you remind yourself that Bucky and sympathy don’t go hand-in-hand.

You’re about twenty minutes away from the compound when Bucky finally speaks, “I’m sorry about this morning, for disturbing you.”

“Bucky, you don’t have to apologise, it’s -“

“No, I do. I know how pathetic it must seem. I haven’t been that person for years yet it still haunts me, still torments me when I’m at my most vulnerable.” His gaze is focused on the ground as he concentrates too much on his own feet. He doesn’t want to look at you because he can already envision the look on your face. That pitiful look in your eyes that he can’t handle.

“Bucky, stop,” You reach up and grab his shoulders, halting him in his tracks. The area around you is completely clear as Bucky only now realises how far you’ve walked since leaving the breakfast bar, “let’s sit down.”

You lead him over to a bench which is on a small patch of grass. There’s a group of pigeons picking at some scraps on the ground and you settle on the bench, the cold metal slightly stinging your thighs through your thin layers. Bucky doesn’t relax as he sits on the edge of the bench, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees and his chin resting in his hands. His entire frame is tense as he stares into the distance. You’re unsure of what to say, until the slight click of Bucky opening his mouth catches your attention. You shuffle closer to him to show you’re ready to listen.

“I killed Stark’s parents,” he mutters resting his forehead in his hands as the whole scene plays out in his mind. He wants to scream, to hit himself in the head and rid himself of these awful memories. He doesn’t fully remember killing them, but he remembers the look on Tony’s face as they watched the footage of that night, “in my dr - in my nightmare, I was back there, killing them and just watching the life drain out of their eyes. They weren’t people, they didn’t matter. They were just a mission.” He finally turns to face you and his eyes are red. You can tell he’s fighting back tears as he looks up and sniffles.

You reach out and place a comforting hand on his back, scooting closer to him so you can wrap your arm around his shoulder and pull him in. Bucky tries to fight you off by digging his feet into the grass and refusing to move closer. He eventually gives in and lets his head fall onto your chest, quiet sobs leaving his lips. He hates crying, it’s a sign of weakness. He hates that you’re seeing him like this, that you’re hearing him bawl like a baby. He wishes the ground could open and swallow him up.

With your left arm around his shoulder, your right hand finds its way into his hair. It’s knotted, probably from a mixture of him sweating earlier and the heavy breeze, but you try your best to soothe him by lightly scratching at his scalp with your fingertips. Bucky’s eyes flutter closed as tears run down his cheeks, “what kind of person would kill two innocent people like that? What kind of person would do all of the things I did?”

“A monster would.” Bucky’s head lifts at your words and you really get to see his face in full this time. His eyes are puffy and his cheeks a blushed pink, his lips rosy as his hair sticks to his tear-stained face. He doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t know what you mean.

You clear your throat and grab both of his hands in yours, rubbing the backs of them to warm him up as much as you can. You pull his hands into your lap so he’ll turn and look at you properly, “Only a monster would do those things, Bucky. But you’re not a monster.”

“But, I -“

“You keep forgetting that it wasn’t you. It wasn’t Sergeant. James Barnes that committed those horrific crimes. It was the Winter Soldier, a product of Hydra.”

Bucky’s features soften at your words, and he flips his hands over so he can hold yours in return. His fingers wrap around your own and he squeezes lightly. You want nothing more than to hug him tight and tell him he’s safe, but you’re worried you’ve already overstepped the mark. “Bucky, you’re a good person. I know I’ll never be able to understand the things you’ve gone through, but you must keep telling yourself that you’re not responsible. Yes it was your body, but it certainly wasn’t your mind.”

Before you can say another word, Bucky engulfs you in a hug and pulls you into him so closely that you’re basically sat in his lap. His body is shaky as you wrap your arms around his back, rubbing circles onto his shoulder blade to comfort him. He repeatedly mutters the words ‘thank you’, his voice fading into a whisper. You draw back from the hug and press a gentle kiss to his temple.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” you whisper back, looking into his eyes. They’re still watery, but he’s smiling. He’s grateful for everything you’ve said, even though he doesn’t know how to fully express that gratitude. “Look on the bright side!” You perk up, nudging him with your elbow, “I’m not going anywhere, so if anything like this happens again, I’m always down to sneak out for breakfast.”

He chuckles and the sound simply warms your heart. There he is - the Bucky you know and love. “Thank you, Y/N. For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything,” you clasp your hands together and stand up, holding out your arm for him to link through, “now let’s get these pastries back for the team before I lose control and eat them all.”

“Can I have half of your cinnamon bun?” He dares to ask, batting his eyelashes like a little girl. You scowl at him, squinting your eyes and shaking your head. The audacity!

“Fine. But you have to make me one of those whipped iced coffees you’ve been practising.”

“Deal.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #platonic!bucky barnes x reader #oneshot #fluff #fanfiction #marvel #mcu #the winter soldier #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #the avengers

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grapefruitsketches · 4 years

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I’ve Been Waiting On You

Rated G, 2,560 Words. Songxiao, Modern AU - Coffee Shop/Cafe, Fluff, First Meetings/Meet-Cute, POV Song Lan (Wen Qing, A-Qing, and - briefly - Wen Ning are here too!)

My third (and likely final!) fill for the Songxiao Reverse Itty Bitty Bang 2020

Inspired by @transgirlsqx’s art on twitter at transgirlsqx/status/1305923577707806720?s=21 (link in reblog to make sure this shows up in the tags; please do yourself the favour of taking a look - the expressions are priceless!)

Event hosted by @touchmycoat

Also for fytheuntamed’s Untamed Fall Fest Day 7: Reunion

Also Available on AO3 (See link in reblog)

He was back again.

He was back, and he had a high schooler with him this time.

How did having a high schooler with him not make him any less…

“-chen! Song Lan! Hello?” Wen Qing’s voice drew him back to the present.

“Mmn?” He said, looking around to his manager, her arms were crossed as she flipped one wrist out to point to the table he was supposed to be serving. Wen Qing ran a tight operation, but her smirk betrayed her: she was not angry. Song Lan would not get off so easy. Instead, she was amused.

He would hear about this again later.

The tips of ears burned, even as he couldn’t help stealing one more glance the man’s way.

He was leaning in close to the laptop, squinting at something. The teen frowned peering similarly at the screen. Then the man said something and the girl’s eyes and mouth widened. She nodded eagerly and began typing rapidly. The man chuckled and leaned back in his seat, smiling approvingly. Song Lan watched him breathe deep and look up from the table. Song Lan gulped and couldn’t help but grin at the kind, smiling eyes behind the thick-paned glasses.

Too late, Song Lan’s mind caught up with reality.

If he could see the man’s eyes then the man could see…

Song Lan’s chest tightened and his breath caught in his throat. He turned his face quickly away and hurried towards the table patiently awaiting the coffees and tea on his tray. He felt his cheeks redden, but he kept his focus on the customers and tried to ignore Wen Qing’s unconcealed chuckling from behind the counter as he said, far too rapid and breathless for the short walk he’d taken, “Sorry-for-the-wait-here-is-the-latte-the-green-tea-and-the-wulang.” He nodded and retreated quickly back to the counter.

He wondered if there was a professional way to sink to the floor and hide until an entirely new batch of customers had rotated into the shop. Not seeing one, he settled for grabbing a bag of coffee beans and slowly running them through the grinder, one of the few tasks he could do when there were no orders to work on that would require turning his back to the café.

“So… should I give you his table, or would that be tantamount to manslaughter?”

“Are you offering to serve him instead?” Song Lan replied skeptically. They both knew that Song Lan was the only server in the small café right then, Wen Ning busy with a stream of people grabbing last minute sandwiches to go before whatever mid-afternoon meeting they were going to, Wen Qing usually keeping herself free to answer a phone call, keep the store well-stocked, address a customer complaint, or to have a discussion anyone who thought that just because Wen Ning was too polite to call out a customer when they deserved it, no one would.

She shrugged, “Maybe. It would really be a pain to have to hire someone else. And what kind of press would that bring us? We just reopened, we can’t afford to have anyone think I’m working my staff to death. Not yet at least.”

But Song Lan still lingered, eyes darting towards the table then back to Wen Qing.

“Come on,” she said, “You had a-Ning serve him last time and Zizhen seemed perfectly capable the time before that. I’m sure he can’t be that scary, no matter what he said to you the one time you served him.”

“You know it’s not—" she raised her eyebrows at his protests, daring him to explain what it was, “Fine,” he said, finally. He took a deep breath, pulled his shoulders back in a vague attempt to seem put together, readied his pen and notepad, and turned towards the table.

Where only the teenager sat, typing fiercely at her keyboard.

He breathed out. This, he could deal with.

He made his way to the table.

“Welcome to Sleepless Café. May I take your order?”

The keys didn’t stop clicking as the teen grumbled, “Took you long enough. I’ll take a mocha, and I guess a white tea for my tutor because he’s boring like that.”

“Your tutor.” Song Lan repeated, replaying the earlier interaction he’d observed which had somehow become even more endearing.

“Yes? My tutor. Sort of also my brother if you really want to know. Is there something wrong with—“ apparently Song Lan’s dumbfounded repetition had finally been what made her look up from her computer screen, “Oh.” And to Song Lan’s absolute horror, a mischievous, gleeful grin that would give even Zizhen a run for his money lit up her face. She leaned a cheek in her hand, “It’s you,” she said, tilting her head to the side, “So, was there something you wanted to say to my brother, or do you just stare at every person who walks in here like that? Because if you do,” she said, matter-of-factly, “That is both creepy and bad for business.”

“I—“ Maybe Wen Qing was right and the girl’s tutor wouldn’t have been scary, but the student herself absolutely was. “I’m sorry I just—“

“He’ll forgive you, you know. Probably doesn’t even think anything of it, to be honest. Maybe didn’t even notice. Wants you to talk to him actually.” Her speech became more blunt as she returned to peering at her screen, which, now that Song Lan looked at it, was zoomed in to something like 150% percent.

What she said sunk in slowly, though, “What, really?” Song Lan felt a little pinprick of hope light up in his chest.

“Mmmhmm. I’d be willing to bet it’s the reason he keeps coming here.” She looked up at him, “It’s very far from where we live.” She smirked as she revealed this.

“What—“ Song Lan was trying to figure out how to ask just how far without seeming like he was trying to figure out where they lived or something, already apparently one strike in on the “creepy” scale, but his voice involuntarily cut off as he approached again.

“Sorry a-Qing, there was a bit of a wait…” he sat back down and his eyes swiveled around slowly, landing on Song Lan. He frowned and looked slowly upwards, pupils moving back and forth a couple of times before, “Ah! Sorry. It sometimes takes me a moment to…” he shook his head quickly, “Hi,” he said, and… was that a faint bit of pink Song Lan saw on his cheeks?

Song Lan found himself completely speechless. Luckily (or unluckily) the girl, a-Qing, apparently, was there and ready to fill the silence. “I already ordered. Mocha for me. White tea for you. Is there anything else you’d like to order, gege?” She ended in a childish, playful singsong, a significant switch from the dry tone she had taken with Song Lan.

“A-Qing… so much caffeine and sugar so late in the day…” the man shook his head, but smiled affectionately, chastising, but not stepping in to overrule her order, “I’m sorry, was she pestering you at all?”

Yes. “No,” Song Lan said quickly.

The man smiled, “That’s good to hear,” he sighed.

“Sorry for lingering so long,” Song Lan said, suddenly feeling very awkward and aware of just how long he’d been standing there, long after the simple order had been neatly noted on the notepad, “I’ll leave you two to—“

“Wait.” The man said, and Song Lan froze. The man took a deep breath, and Song Lan couldn’t help but let his eyes be drawn to his lips, before the man spoke, “I’ll… I’ll kick myself later if I don’t ask but… We’ve spoken before, right?”

Song Lan blinked, “Uh…”

They had. They absolutely had. And Song Lan absolutely knew this. It had been a couple months ago, and Song Lan had assumed the other man had completely forgotten it.

“Sorry… I know you probably get a lot of customers here, don’t worry about it…”

“No… no I do remember!” Song Lan answered, “I just… I assumed you wouldn’t remember.”

Something about that must have struck the other man as hilarious, and he hid his mouth behind a closed fist as he giggled. A-Qing made a show of tossing her head back, groaning, and placing a set of headphones firmly over her ears. But she was smiling.

“Sorry,” the man said, wiping the beginnings of tears out of his eyes, “So. I hope school is still going well?”

It was an abrupt transition, but a welcome one.

Their one and only previous conversation had been short — Song Lan had said that he thought the other man’s earrings had looked cool, purportedly as part of his usual customer service approach, but the light stutter that interrupted his usual cool tone betrayed him. The other man hadn’t seemed to notice or mind, but had thanked him and asked how Song Lan liked working at the café.

For some reason, though he usually tried to get in and out of exchanges with customers as quickly as possible, Song Lan had found himself telling the man that he did like it. He explained that he expected it would only be for now, as he put himself through law school, that he was lucky he had old friends who managed this place, who were willing to work flexibly around his school schedule. The other man had thought that that was amazing, seeming embarrassed to admit that his mothers had almost insisted they pay for his own schooling, to let him focus exclusively on his studies. Song Lan had found out that he studied computer sciences, with a focus on accessible technology.

And then a customer had dropped a cup, and by the time Song Lan was done dealing with that, the man had been gone, only the empty teacup, a generous tip, and a “Thanks J” scrawled on the receipt to confirm that Song Lan hadn’t imagined him.

Song Lan was still reeling from the man’s admission that he remembered the conversation at all. Song Lan had thought was only a strange personal fixation of his own. But he was finding it hard to handle the knowledge that the other man not only remembered, but remembered in this kind of detail. Remembered that he was in school, and as they continued to talk now, remembered things Song Lan had forgotten he’d even said.

“It seems like a pretty nice team here. It’s nice to finally see the manager’s brother here… you mentioned him last time, but he’s never been here when I’ve visited,” the man smiled, “But you mentioned before he usually only works afternoon shifts? I guess that was my fault then…”

At some point in the conversation, Song Lan felt the notepad and pen he was holding slowly leave his hands. He blinked and turned his head, to see Wen Qing give him a small wink and look at the page now in her hand, getting to work on the teas these two customers had ordered a long while ago now.

“So is…a-Qing also studying computer science?”

“Yes!” the other man seemed similarly surprised that Song Lan had remembered this detail, “She ended up getting a co-op job at the same place I’ve been interning at. She’s got the same kind of accessibility needs as me,” he waved vaguely at his own eyes, “So she’s been a great second set of hands on this project.”

The sound of a scraping chair. A bump of metal against the back of his legs. Wen Qing clearly was giving him permission to, no, insisting he sit down.

He sat, shuffling the chair forward, and soon she was back, a mocha, a white tea, and a green tea — Song Lan’s standard order — in hand. She set them down, patted Song Lan on the shoulder and walked away.

“Oh am I keeping you from…?” the man’s eyes widened as he watched Wen Qing walk away.

Song Lan chuckled, “No. That was her telling me I’m on a break for now.”

The other man puffed out an appreciative breath of laughter, “Like I said, this seems like a nice team to work with.”

Song Lan nodded, and gently lifted the cup of tea to his lips.

They sat in silence for a while, the whole situation bizarre. Song Lan was rarely so social, and never so impromptu about it. But it still felt right. Peaceful. Like this is something they hadn’t planned to do, but had always expected, somehow. Song Lan kept his eyes mostly to his tea, but each time he chanced a glance up, he caught the other man’s smiling eye and had to look back at his tea as he felt his face flush.

The sound of a laptop snapping shut was what finally shook him out of the gentle trance.

“Time to go, Xingchen-ge.” She looked to Song Lan (whose only thought at that moment was now His name is Xingchen. His name is Xingchen on loop), “We’ll see you again. And…” she picked up the phone lying face down on the table, the one with the frost-covered case lying closer to her brother, not the green one featuring what was obviously some pop culture reference Song Lan didn’t understand pasted all over the back. She tapped at the screen quickly, unlocking it before turning it to Song Lan, “Name and number, please.”

“A-Qing—!” the man exclaimed, and Song Lan was charmed, and a bit relieved, by the faint pink tinting the other man’s ears. But he still wasn’t sure whether he should take the phone being forcefully shoved into his hand.

He turned to the man — to Xingchen — and asked, “Do you… want me to?”

Xingchen’s eager, if still subdued, still gentle, nods were all he needed to see. He entered his contact information quickly, only having to backspace a few times to account for the typos he kept making.

“Thank you, Song Lan,” Xingchen said, smiling a smile that Song Lan couldn’t peel his eyes away from as he took the phone back.

“Ah, you can call me Zichen, that’s what my family calls me,” Song Lan said before he really thought about it, before he could consider whether it might be too forward to ask Xingchen to call him by a name even the Wens didn’t yet use for him. But Xingchen didn’t know that, and only smiled more widely.

“Then thank you, Zichen,” Xingchen said. And any doubt Song Lan had had washed away — that name just sounded so right coming from this man, “I hope we’ll meet again soon?”

“Yes. Definitely.” Song Lan nodded eagerly.

The two left together, a-Qing saying something inaudible that was making Xingchen giggle. Song Lan watched as he tapped her affectionately on the nose, the perfect image of an older brother.

He sighed, but soon felt a wet rag dumped into his hands and was forced to tear his eyes away from the now empty store front, “You’re on cleaning duty,” Wen Qing said, smirking, “You absolutely owe me.”

Song Lan nodded, taking the rag and proceeding to wipe down the tables, still half in a daze.

He went over to deal with the counters, where Wen Ning, enjoying a brief pause from the busy hours, asked, “So, do you think you’ll see him again?”

“I certainly hope so,” was Song Lan’s simple reply.

#sxreverseibb #untamed fall fest #songxiao #song lan #xiao xingchen #a qing #wen qing #cql #the untamed #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #my writing

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andtheyweredeskmates · 4 years

Text

Of Latte’s and Lingerie- Chapter 6

I’m delirious, sleep deprived and high on caffeine but I did the the thing so who’s really winning here? Anyways, if you haven’t already, here’s the previous chapters 1 2 3 4 5 or a link to AO3. Also, if you wanna be added to the taglist please tell me, I’m a whore for praise. Hope this doesn’t suck. Rock and Roll.

Taglist: @catsssmeow

Marinette woke up feeling like someone had shoved a wad of cotton balls in her mouth. God she hated wine. One would think that after years of “wine nights” with Alya, she’d realize she should never participate in them on work nights. Marinette glanced halfheartedly at her phone, searching for the time.

7:00

“FUCK!”

Marinette jumped up like she’d been prodded with a hot poker. She ran to her little chest of drawers and frantically grabbed the first pair of pants she saw. As she attempted to put them on, she simultaneously hopped toward her closet. After a quick analysis she grabbed a blouse that she only hoped complimented her pants. Marinette shimmied her way into her blouse and made her way into the bathroom. Tikki sat on the countertop glaring at her

“Meow.”

Marinette grabbed her toothbrush and squirted a generous amount of toothpaste on the bristles.

“I know Tikki but I have to be at work in an hour and god knows what traffic’s gonna be like.” Marinette brushed her teeth with purpose, contemplating the agenda of the day. She was never drinking with Alya on a Tuesday night ever again.

Marinette groaned at herself. She hated going to work without makeup. Because every single time without fail, Audrey had a passive aggressive comment to make.

Mari I know a good makeup artist if you ever need any tips.

Did someone die? You look awful.

Audrey was right. She was a bitch.

Marinette briskly walked into the kitchen and started the coffee pot, grumbling to herself about bitchy bosses. She checked the time on the oven.

7:05

Marinette began calculating. If she left by 7:15, she would be fine. That gave her 45 minutes to make a half hour drive. She’d make it with time to spare.

Audrey put up with a lot more from Marinette than she did from most people (for the sake of art, as she would say) but Marinette was not looking to push the limits. While she waited for the coffee to brew, she grabbed Tikki’s food from the pantry and poured it in the bowl. Tikki didn’t so much as glance at Marinette as she strolled into the kitchen and began eating her food. Marinette grabbed her brush from the counter of the bar and started brushing her hair wildly. When the coffee pot beeped impatiently at her, she quickly filled up her mug and one to go coffee for the road. It was gonna be one of those days.

Marinette put her hair in a quick sloppy French braid that fell down to just the center of her shoulder blades and gulped down her first coffee. When she glanced back up at the oven clock she sighed harshly.

7:10

Marinette grabbed her purse, chugged the last bit of coffee from her mug and slipped on some flats she kept near the door.

“Bye Tikki, I love you!”

…

When Adrien woke up he was more than a little disoriented. He couldn’t see a thing and he couldn’t breathe but he could feel fur buried in his face.

“Phlghhh.” His voice was muffled by the cat laying peacefully across his face. Adrien picked the cat up and held him up above his head.

“Is this what we’re doing now?” Plagg stared back with disinterest. Once Adrien set Plagg down on the empty side of the bed, he glanced at his beeping alarm clock.

7:00

Adrien sighed contentedly and strolled into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. His favorite part of his job was the late start. He had three hours of peace before he had to be at work so Adrien relished in it.

“Plagg, what do we want for breakfast?” Plagg elected not to dignify Adrien with a response.

“Yeah, I was thinking cereal too.”

…

No. nO. NO. NOOOO.

That’s what went through Marinette’s head when she got about 15 minutes down the road and realized she left the to go coffee sitting on the counter. It was at this point that Marinette began bargaining with herself.

If I drive five miles per hour over the speed limit for the next five miles and stop lightly but maybe not all the way at Dupont Circle, then I’ll have time to pick up an order from Dunn’s. Maybe I could call the store? God I hope Tim is there.

…

“Alright Plagg. I’m gonna go to Dunn’s. I’ll see you after work.”

“Meow.” Plagg didn’t so much as lift his head from the couch

“Don’t judge me! It’s perfectly normal for people to have multiple cups of coffee a day. Good day to you sir.”

“Meow.” Adrien scowled as he stepped in to the hall.

“I SAID GOOD DAY!”

Adrien probably would’ve laughed to himself if he didn’t happen to walk into the hall at the same time as three other residents in his apartment complex. He had to trudge his way to the elevator, avoiding eye contact with every living thing in his periphery. Is this what his father meant when he asked Adrien not to make a fool of himself?

…

“Thank you, Tim. You’re a lifesaver, I’ll be there in 5!” Marinette hung up the phone and glanced at the clock.

7:30

Marinette did the math. She was at the light just in front of Dunn’s and she did the math faster than she’d ever done any math in her life.

Her job was only 15 minutes away from Dunn’s. If it took 5 minutes to get in, pay and get out, the light would probably be about 3 minutes long to turn in and out of Dunn’s. If you add all that together, plus the walk from the work parking lot to the door (which Marinette estimated to be about 5 more minutes), and if she was lucky, so very lucky, Audrey wouldn’t notice her being 1 minute late.

The things Marinette does for coffee.

…

Adrien was able to find his usual spot. He was able to order his usual mocha frappe and he was a little disappointed (but unsurprised) to see Marinette was not in her usual spot. Adrien had noticed after weeks of people watching that Marinette didn’t come to Dunn’s until after 5 pm, at which point she was usually frantically working on something. Adrien had also noticed that when he came in at about 7:30 every morning, he was the only person who would actually come in and sit down. Now, Adrien didn’t always go to Dunn’s twice a day… but he did it more often than he cared to admit.

“You know I give you all my money. I feel like you should at least take me out to dinner,” Adrien had joked.

“Nice try sweet cheeks,” Tim had said as he handed Adrien his change.

Adrien loved Dunn’s. What a peacefully, predictable and wonderful place.

…

“Yes. yES YES! YEEEEES!”

Marinette was right on schedule. She was screeching into Dunn’s at exactly 7:33 and she’d never been more proud of herself in her life.

…

Just as Adrien was beginning to settle in, the door busted open. Marinette arrived in the most ridiculous fashion Adrien had ever seen. She had a debit card in one hand, a shoe in another and she was breathing incredibly hard, as though she’d run a marathon. Her purse slipped from her shoulder to her elbow and it seemed like what had once been a French braid, was now a French mess because while the top of her head seemed to present her hair in a beautiful plait, as you moved down you could see that her hair was falling, falling ,falling until it was sprawled across her back.

“Tim, please tell me it’s already made?” Tim looked at her with wide eyes and a cautious expression.

“Um, I think I’ll add another shot of espresso while you pay, just uh, swipe.”

…

“Fuck me,” Marinette muttered. She dropped her shoe to the ground and tried to wriggle her foot back into it as she swiped her debit card.

“Are you okay Marinette?”

Now at this moment, Marinette froze in horror and a series of realizations hit her all at once. Number one, she’d forgot to put a hair tie in after braiding her hair that morning. Number two, she had walked into Dunn’s with only one shoe. Number three, when Tim said on the phone about 6 minutes earlier that the shop had been dead, he hadn’t meant empty. And finally, number four, the hot boy was sitting in his table in the corner.

“Oh, um yes! Just late! But I need coffee, and I left mine at home so I’m late and I stopped for coffee… Stress.” Marinette could practically see the word vomit coming from her mouth. This really was one of those days.

…

Adrien could physically see the stress on Marinette’s face before the word even came out of her mouth. He could tell she was nervous before her other words stumbled out too and Adrien felt awful for her.

“Well, maybe I can help! Here, I always keep an extra hair tie in my wallet for one of my friends. She’s kind of obsessive about her hair. Do you want to borrow it?” He could see a touch of relief in Marinette’s face.

“Oh my gosh. That’s really sweet, thank you!” Adrien glanced in the back and saw Tim give him a wink before busying himself with Marinette’s coffee.

“You know, we keep running into each other, but it’d be nice to actually plan a time to meet up. Why don’t I give you my number?”

…

Marinette was hyperventilating just a bit. There was a lot going on and it was very overwhelming. And that was the excuse she would give Alya when she explained the events that transpired there in that coffee shop.

She had handed the hot boy her phone and just as he’d handed it back, Tim had come back with the coffee. Without so much as a sideways glance at her phone, she snatched the coffee and turned briefly to face the hot boy.

“Thank you! Late. Really late. Gotta go. Lext you tater.” And with that, she gave Tim an appreciative nod, and ran out the door.

When she glanced at the clock in her car, Marinette was happy to see that she had a minute to spare before she needed to peel out of the parking lot. She chose this minute to take a look at the new contact in her phone. Finally Alya could stop bugging Marinette about not knowing his name.

When Marinette unlocked her phone and looked at her newest contact she had to take a full 3 minutes (that she didn’t have) to recover. There was screaming, maybe some crying, thrashing. It was a big ball of Why is this happening to me? She reread the contact name about 30 times before it really sunk in that this was really just one of those days.

Coffee Buddy.

The risk of going to Dunn’s that morning was calculated but boy was Marinette bad at math.

Next Chapter

#miraculous ladybug #coffee shop au #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrienette #adrinette #mlb fanfic #my fic #my fanfic #miraculous fanfic

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split-n-splice · 4 years

Photo

[Chapter Guide]

22. Welfare Check – 4

Maybe he should have followed Team Go’s example and left. It was in his best interest to honor his accomplice’s wishes after all, and maybe that was Drakken’s first impulse when he reached for the key in the ignition. So why he didn’t listen to the voice of reason was anyone’s guess.

He was really pushing his luck by being perhaps the first customer of the day to set foot in Buckley’s Brew. As the door swung shut behind him, he began to question the severity of his recent gambling habit.

A stocky henchwoman-to-be in a witch costume was hissing something unfriendly to Shilo, who looked close to socking the fellow barista for whatever snide things that fell out of her mouth. The witchy blonde’s eyes cut to Drakken, and she curled her lip and turned away to tend to an espresso machine or some such. Through the window to the kitchen, Drakken could see Buckley at work preparing more confections, blessedly indifferent to his entry. Shilo, however, was not.

Her glare seared through him as she planted her palms on the countertop.

The little shop was decorated for the holiday with paper garlands of bats and ghosts and tiny pumpkins at the center of each table. On the counter stood a figurine of an ugly little green witch hunched over a little cauldron of Halloween candy. Drakken helped himself to a chocolate drop, popping it in his mouth as he feigned interest in the chalkboard of specialty coffee, seasonal delights, and made-to-order dishes. He refused to search for strudels in the display case.

His accomplice did not offer a greeting. If this was how she treated the average customer, he wouldn’t feel too bad if she was soon sacked, but he knew he was just a special case.

Her scowl didn’t relent even when her fellow barista swept by behind her, depositing a witch hat adorned with long sickle feathers atop her head. Somehow Drakken doubted mentioning her hair had the same uncanny iridescent sheen as rooster’s back end would come off as a compliment, so he kept the thought to himself.

The jingle of the bell behind him urged him to hurry up, and Shilo grinding out, “What do you want?” helped him decide.

“Waffles and a mocha, please,” Drakken answered politely. He’d never gotten a chance to have his breakfast earlier as he’d forgotten it to get cold in the wagon. She didn’t budge when he pulled out his wallet and held out a note. He raised his brow at her, wondering quietly, “Am I banned?” He should hope not.

“No, but you aren’t welcomed,” she grumbled. She snatched the cash from him. “It’s your head.” She nodded curtly toward the table in the furthest corner where they’d sat the day he’d introduced her to Buckley a month ago. It was a good spot, Drakken decided. Just out of sight of the window to the back, therefore out of sight of the owner.

He’d hoped it would be his accomplice to serve him, but he didn’t complain out loud when it was the blonde witch. At least he had something hot to eat and something sweet to sip. He watched the storefront for good measure, ready to jump up and hide in the restroom should Team Go reappear with reinforcements.

Another customer came and went, ordering joe to go and a devil’s food muffin that made Drakken seethe, but he kept his mouth shut and ate his breakfast.

A sudden grip on his shoulder startled him, but he whipped his head around to see raven hair and jaded eyes and he breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn’t Buckley. “What did I tell you?” Shilo scolded under her breath. “You’re going to get yourself caught.”

“Oh, you know me,” Drakken tried to chuckle as he sat back to peer innocently up at her. “I’m not very good at following rules.”

“Well, work on it.”

He winced back from the bite in her voice and the weight of her glare. Villains broke rules – didn’t she know that? He eyed her, and the hand still gripping his shoulder in particular, and decided that maybe her rules were best not broken if he could help it. “I just want to make sure you’re—,” he began, but she cut him off with a snort.

“I can handle myself,” she reminded, and let go of his shoulder with a small shove. “You need to stay out of my way. Worry about yourself, will ya? Honestly – you’ve got a lot of nerve to get on my case and then do something this stupid. I thought you were supposed to be a genius?”

Drakken shrank a little more. “I know you’re capable,” he muttered, poking at his half-eaten breakfast. He grunted crossly and stabbed at a side of sausage. “What do they want with you anyway?” That was a dumb question to ask. Maybe he wasn’t such a genius after all.

“They’re not taking me back,” grumbled his partner in crime, crossing her arms.

“Not without a fight,” he agreed, and her frown lightened just a little while.

She glanced toward the door before plopping herself down in the seat across from him, yanking off the ridiculous feathered witch hat and slumping over the table with her face buried in her arms. He almost called her name after a minute, but she heaved a weary sigh and pulled her head up a little to glower over to the other barista before glaring back up at him. “I blame you.”

Drakken scoffed. “For?”

Her jaded eyes narrowed on him, and she shook her head, refusing to explain with more than a simple, “Everything.” She reached across to steal a sip of his mocha then, and he kept his complaint trapped behind zipped lips. She could probably use the caffeine more than him – but for heaven’s sake – she could go get her own.

“They do want me to come back,” she confirmed. “But if they were going to force me to go, they wouldn’t be wasting time seeing how I’m doing. I must be up to snuff so far. They haven’t drugged or cuffed me yet. Anyway.” She took another sip and surrendered his mug. “If they planned on taking me, they wouldn’t have brought Dad. All the seats are taken. I guess this was my last chance to change my mind before big brother wraps it up on damage control and sweeps me under the rug to pretend I was never their mistake.”

“What?” Drakken uttered around a mouthful, tilting his head. There was something sad in her eyes, and he pulled his stare away to frown at the smudge of black lipstick on his mug. He turned it away from him to sip from a clean edge.

“Big brother doesn’t want a bad apple like me spoiling their reputation,” she explained. “Big brother…you know. Glo—I’m not gonna say it.” She shook her head and sighed grimly. “They’ll probably keep an eye on me through my brothers for a bit, but if I can fool them too that I’m just… this. Some ordinary girl in a small town. Then they might let their guard down and take their eyes off me. We might be okay.”

We. He liked the sound of that more than he ought to. “You sound optimistic,” Drakken noted.

“They have bigger fish to fry than lil ol’ me,” she assured.

“That’s a relief.” He watched the swirling remains of his mocha before knocking it back.

“They’ll never know what hit them,” she agreed with a smile. A genuine smile, one that met her eyes and lifted some of the bleak exhaustion there, if only for a moment. She stood then, making a motion for him to pass her the mug. As she was offering to fetch him a refill, he shook his head and stood as well.

“I think I’ve pushed my luck enough for one morning,” he sighed and looked out toward the storefront. There were still no superheroes in sight, but he wasn’t so gullible as to believe they had given up so easily. They’d be back. It was only a matter of time. “When does your family leave?”

“Dunno,” she admitted. “I guess the twins wanted me to take them trick-or-treating tonight, so they’re bound to turn up eventually to make me spend quality time with the family.” She shrugged and rolled her eyes.

“Try the north end of town,” advised Drakken offhandedly. “It’s the rich neighborhood.” He didn’t know why he bothered sparing that information. Let the little brats get paperclips and tasteless candy – what did he care?

A new early-bird customer was just coming in then. Shilo’s idle time was up. Drakken sidestepped out of her way as his accomplice donned her witch hat and cleared the table.

“Thanks for the tip,” she chirped flippantly, and as Drakken turned back to utter something confused in reflex, she smirked and pushed his wallet into his chest while pocketing a bill from it. “See ya around, hon.”

The last bit didn’t sit well with him, but Drakken let it slide before it could trip him up. She was smiling and bubbly and sweet now despite her exhaustion and bottled bitterness. It wasn’t a show of endearment – it was all just a show she put on for customers, right down to the smile she flashed him as he took his leave.

Drakken grit his teeth and forced himself to return to the lair, despite how compelled he was to keep a watchful eye out for the superheroes, anxious his irreplaceable accomplice might be taken away at any moment, against her will or otherwise.

He tried to bear in mind there was certain protocol he ought to be following anyway. He had more important things to do than loiter around town, trying to stalk agents of Global Justice decked out in outlandish harlequin suits – things like barking orders at the henchmen to put the lair under lockdown starting with the garage, and ordering the whole lot of them into the depths of the subterranean hideaway and out of sight from probing spies, and to be on guard for a raid just in case. If Global Justice by any chance had followed Team Go to the oasis, there was the risk he’d caught their eye. Peculiar complexions like his had a way of acting as a red flag for illicit activities gone awry, after all.

But as Drakken sat down in front of the CCTV system, hands folded under his chin as he vigilantly watched the perimeter in grainy black and white feed, an inkling of doubt trickled in, watering a wry seed as he stewed. After some time, his nerves began to settle, and he sat back, weighing the likelihood of Global Justice considering a blue individual a threat or even a suspicious character on Halloween of all days.

He shook his head. He had too much idle time to think.

So he summoned a henchman to the chair to watch the security feed and left to occupy his buzzing mind with something more productive than staring at bulbous screens which only served to make his eyes burn. Let them be the watchdogs and watch the monotonous feedback – what else was he paying them for?

Though he was on the verge of scrapping it for parts in his frustration, Drakken returned to the cannon. It didn’t distract him for long, but it kept him busy long enough to finish it. He got as far as pulling on a mask and giving it a quick coat of spraypaint to emulate the warning stripes of a yellowjacket.

The mask didn’t do him a whole lot of good when the ventilation system in the lair left a lot to be desired, and he abandoned the project before the paint could finish dripping.

Dizzy from fumes, Drakken quickly retreated to his personal quarters and tugged off the mask, gasping for a breath of air yet to be polluted by the aerosol, though it still lingered on his clothes. He tossed his coat over the back of the couch to shed some of it, turning his attention to the kitchen next as he staved off the phantom sensation of standing on the roof of the van with a heavy weight on his shoulders—

It was only noon, he noticed. That was fine. Enough time had elapsed and there’d yet to be an alarm tripped. It was safe to relax a little and call it lunchtime, though his stomach was still knotted up with nerves. He made himself a grilled cheese sandwich, reminding himself he lived alone. Mostly alone. He only unthinkingly made a second because he was hungry, even if it was cold by the time he forced it down.

Neither were satisfying. No amount of butter or cheese could fix that.

He sat hunched over his kitchen island, frowning into a new cookbook that had yet to offer anything that tickled his fancy. Chocolate was an infallible go-to, but chocolate alone wasn’t festive enough. Devil’s food still left a sour taste in his mouth anyway. Pumpkin pie, maybe? No. While he could bake a mean pumpkin pie, the art passed down to him from his grandmother, it was too mundane. It wasn’t like he had anyone to impress – it was just that he must have made a hundred in his twenty-odd years of baking them.

He flicked on the television and melted into the couch, hopeful the leading cooking channel would inspire him, but it was droning on and on about decorative icing on sugar cookies in the shapes of bats and witches and pumpkins. Bored to sleep, he nodded off until a change of pace signified the start of some competitive whimsical cakes designed like graveyards or brains.

Drakken sat up with a groan at the sight of strawberry glaze drizzled over the brain-cake and flicked off the television. It was just a touch too realistic for his taste. He wasn’t in the mood to see desserts disguised as organs.

Pieces floated together as he watched the stars behind his lids as he rubbed his stinging eyes. A moment later, he dove across the couch to fish his notebook from his jacket to jot down three words most certain to be delectable, just in case something came up and he got complacent. It sounded good in his head. It was certain to be leagues better than any revolting red velvet cerebrum.

He didn’t need the worthless cookbook. The itch to toss it in the garbage didn’t feel too unlike disregarding a map on a road trip, but he couldn’t pry his fingers from the spine to drop it. He knew exactly how to make what he craved though – he didn’t need someone else’s instructions to guide him. Still, he grudgingly returned it to the shelf with half a dozen other useless cookbooks like it. His thoughtful mother had bought it for him anyway. He couldn’t just throw out a gift.

As deliberately as he tried to keep his eyes down, he still caught a glimpse of the clock on the wall. It was half-past two.

If they weren’t already, those rotten superheroes were bound to be on her any moment now. The lair was in lockdown – but he needed ingredients if he was going to concoct anything to cure a sweet tooth.

He felt his breath leave him and with it his resolve to stay safely holed up in his hideout.

Drakken shrugged on his coat – it had aired out enough – and stuffed his notebook back in the pocket. He knew exactly what he needed. He didn’t need to make a list.

He still stood before the mainframe in the lab to write it out anyway, giving himself an extra minute to change his mind before lowering the lair’s defenses and ordering the henchman at the surveillance desk to keep a sharp eye out or he’d have his head served on a platter.

Drakken was soon coasting through town yet again in the restored station wagon, as the van was still too eye-catching with its damaged side – not to mention it was suspicious enough to the average civilian on a good day. He was minding his own business anyway – just popping into the Smarty Mart. He didn’t need to be secretive.

How he found himself on the wrong side of town – well. He couldn’t play stupid. He was compulsive. He could hardly help that. It was a villain thing.

Knowing he was playing with fire, Drakken kept his eye out as he cruised down Main Street, spotting his lone accomplice soon enough. Given the direction she was heading, she wasn’t heading home. He had to guess she was on her way to the library, her usual respite from the weather, only this time she was likely avoiding the family he happened to know still had a jet parked on the front lawn at her address.

He was bound to be on edge for as long as Team Go was still in town. Paranoia grew by the second as he waited for the dreaded heroes to jump her. She wasn’t far from Buckley’s yet. Her brothers could be lurking anywhere, lying in wait.

She was confronted, but it wasn’t by lousy do-gooders.

Drakken recognized the brown dog from a block away, and he pulled to the curb as Shilo was cut off by the traitorous deadbeat with the leash. He narrowed his eyes and drummed his fingers on the wheel, muttering under his breath his hopes for karma to catch the dog boy once and for all, especially once the steaming punk advanced on her. Granted, the temper might have been justified if Shilo had in fact let his dog out to run away, plus she’d nearly pushed him from the second story earlier.

It didn’t change the fact that Dr. Drakken rooted for her at a distance.

Ignoring the urge to intervene against his better judgment, he watched a dispute unfold. It started with some indiscernible shouting and flailing arms, the boy shaking the leash at her. And then Shego – Shilo – was shoved. She pushed back with twice the force, the boy stumbling over his own shoelaces, which lead to the dog being hastily tied to a tree as Shego goaded him on. To Drakken’s disappointment, the sucker was lead around the nearest building, out of sight.

He almost envied the canine’s front-row seat. The dog barked furiously, lunging and straining at the stifling leash tethering it to the tree. A minute or so passed, and Drakken almost put the car back on the road to go investigate for himself.

A weight lifted from his chest then and he exhaled his relief as Shilo strolled out unscathed, her hair only slightly out of place. She chucked something into the air – a pair of shoes – and smoothed out her hair as the sneakers swung on the powerline above. She rubbed her knuckles, patted the mutt happily wagging its tail, and continued on her way.

The backstabber limped into sight toward his dog a moment later, his arm hanging limp and possibly dislocated. If he wasn’t too caught up grieving over it, he might have continued shouting at Shilo’s back.

Drakken couldn’t help smirking. “Attagirl,” he muttered, giddily pleased she’d served payback herself. Proud as he was, the mugging reinforced a healthy respect. His own combat skill wasn’t his sharpest asset – she’d proved that to him not long ago in an enlightening lesson he wouldn’t soon forget – and he knew she could easily do just the same to him.

Hell, she could do worse to Drakken than dislocate an arm or steal his shoes if she wished. He put a lot on the line, trusting the bad apple as he did. She could rob him blind, turn everything of his for her own profit, bend him to her will for her own gain – well, maybe she was already doing that.

He grimaced and tried not to consider he was being taken for a fool, even as he felt incredibly foolish heading for Smarty Mart with the idle curiosity if she fancied cheesecake. He shook his head. So what if she didn’t? He baked for himself. He wasn’t obligated to share his personal provisions, and he didn’t have to impress her with desserts that put Buckley’s to shame either.

It was a good thing he’d made a list, because he found himself distracted with each new aisle. He tried contemplating a meal plan, but his attention was stolen time and time again by enticing arrangements of candy and decorations. He grit his teeth and tried his damndest to turn a blind eye to the festive merchandise, but his willpower caved eventually, and he was soon perusing holiday goods while staving off the fear of his accomplice alone at the mercy of her brothers.

Before he knew where his feet were taking him, he stood in the costume aisle. This late in the game, pickings were slim. It had to be luck he even found a cape.

He didn’t mean to inspect the silky black garment lined in red, and he especially didn’t mean to drop it in the handbasket – though he justified it knowing someone was bound to come up behind him and pluck it from the rack for themselves if he didn’t. He wondered, as he tossed a pair of overpriced fangs in the basket as well, if he could pull off a satin cape on a regular basis, but he halted the thought in its tracks before he could contemplate how many caped villains had been made a laughingstock. A cape was a ridiculous addition to his wardrobe – he was only wearing it for tonight, and then it was going in the office fireplace.

Thanks to his dillydallying and candy inspection in Smarty Mart, what should have taken him no more than twenty minutes from entry to checkout had taken him an hour or more. Still, he was compelled to blame a heavy overcast for the gloomy evening.

He was out of his mind, Drakken soon concluded as he made a beeline for his accomplice’s neighborhood. He couldn’t convince himself he was only passing through on the way out of town, not when he had to drive so far out of the way to do so. He didn’t even make it to her street before spotting Shego in her gear along with the whole gaggle of harlequin-clad boys.

Gripping the wheel, Drakken fixed his glare dead ahead, away from the superheroes toting bags and buckets like all the other kids swarming the streets. He made for home, back to his lair.

He had sightseeing to do tonight, but first he had to get changed.

#The Company You Keep fic #Drakgo #Drakken #Shego

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lostborderline · 4 years

Text

7/16/20

Yeah I know, another entry. I have no life. I mean I do, it’s just that I love to write and document it. I successfully went over my grandma’s. My boyfriend was literally over an hour late. Once he got home, I headed off to Starbucks for happy hour. Since I had nobody to give the second drink to, I decided to order two drinks for myself. I ordered a grande iced peppermint mocha (my favorite), and then a grande iced caramel cloud macchiato. Usually, they make the cloud macchiatos terrible. This time, it was AMAZING. Perfect foam, perfect taste, strong, sweet, everything it was supposed to be. I chugged it. My other drink, I took my time to drink. I waited in line for 20 minutes, yeah I was determined. After, I headed off to Norwich to pick up my cousin, which is 20 minutes away roughly. I was feeling extremely hungry, and the coffee did not really do well for my stomach, it just made me hungrier. As I was driving, I started to get a headache. Not a big one, just a minor one, barely there. I also felt sort of sick. I still can’t understand why I am so sensitive to caffeine lately, usually it doesn’t affect me at all. Still have to look into it. I got to his place and picked him up, I couldn’t stand the hunger anymore so I decided to make a stop to get a snack. Originally I was going to go to McDonald's to get a mcChicken, I only had $2 cash on me. The line was fucking atrocious, and it had TWO LANES. I was like fuck this and went to Subway. I had to use my credit card, but whatever. The grinder I got wasn’t even that good but it did fill me up a bit. My stomach still felt empty but I knew I wasn’t all that hungry so I didn’t understand why it felt like that. We talked the whole way back. When we got there, they had dinner all ready. Homemade mashed potatoes, and a store-bought stuffed peppers tray. It was alright, not the best but I ate it. We talked about life, and after that my grandma showed me how to make a pie crust because the other day I tried making a pie and I fucking sucked ass at it. We made the pie together, we made a blueberry, raspberry and strawberry pie with stevia, because she's diabetic. I just now had a slice and it tastes good, and the crust is so much better than the one I made. It was also fairy quick to make. The oven time took the longest, 40 minutes just about. We walked around outside as she cut some rhubarb from her garden to give to me to make a pie. Strawberry rhubarb pie is my favorite. I also took pictures of the outside, and noticed a few things I hadn’t before, like the fact that she grows bamboo. She also grows strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, lemons, peaches, green beans, rhubarb, squash, tomatoes, pumpkins, cucumbers, cherries, catnip, mint, green onions, oranges, apples, nectarines, you name it, she grows it. She gave me a whole bag of rhubarb, and she also gave me some cardboard pots and a window thing to put them in because I mentioned I wanted to try to grow things again (attempt). It was really peaceful and stress relieving to be over there, and I took my time. My cousin and I took a picture together, and her dog jumped in my car twice haha. He also ran around the yard as fast as he possibly could, basically wearing himself out. When it was time to go, my boyfriend mentioned really wanting a drink because he was super thirsty so I was like okay whatever fine. I stop at Dunkin (the one I work at) to get him a refresher. When I get home, I text him to ask if he can help me carry in everything because I had a lot to carry. He says “no I’m tired” so I’m like what the fuck dude. Whenever I ask for help he never gives it to me. I decided to refuse him the drink I bought him like fuck you man. I didn’t even drink it, it tastes bad anyway. I said to him to not expect help from me ever again because what he did was selfish. The least he could have done was throw on shorts and just help me for 3 minutes. But nope, he refused, as always. He also said that I am selfish, and that nobody is on my side. I said fuck you, find your own help when you need it because I really don’t give a fuck. My legs were literally hurting from running to therapy earlier. Not ache, but like the muscle is stressed. It still hurts. Right now, I’m drinking milk and still eating that pie slice. I’m planning on making a necklace before I go to bed, my eyes are hurting now, like burning aching. Exhausted, if you will. I’ve been up since like 11 PM last night. So, 24 hours. I’d better get kickstarted on that.

#bpd #borderline #borderline personality disorder #mental illness #mental health #journal #journal entry #diary

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sanchoyo · 4 years

Note

sksksk coffee shop au + roommate au for shigaraki and spinner bc i know u lov them

WHY WAS REPLACING THEIR HATRED FOR HEROES TO A HATRED FOR CUSTOMERS SO EASY. ilu thank you I do lov them

_________________

Shuichi was so goddamn tired of his backwater town, full of small-minded people, so when he realized he’d finally saved enough to move to the city, the relief was so overwhelming he started crying.

The City! Full of opportunities, and no one- or at least, not as many people, would look twice at him! He’d saved enough for two months of rent, plus utilities and food!

…For the small town rates. In his excitement, he might have forgotten how much pricier The City was; shattered were his dreams of lofty penthouses. But..he could look for roommates! The idea made him nervous, but this was The City! He could reinvent himself as someone who liked to be social!

…And his money was running lower every day he squatted at the shitty motel, and every day his mom called, and he still didn’t have an answer to soothe her endless worries. He wasn’t going back home, he was too damn stubborn.

But by the weeks end, his hope had nearly gone out. As he got more desperate, shitty places started looking better- he could ignore a little mold! A terrible draft, leaking roof and no heat? Well, better than rats!

There was a wanted ad on craigslist (yes, shady drug deal craigslist- he’d gotten some cheap, cool stuff (like swords!) in the past though, so don’t knock it!) for a roommate. The listing showed a nice apartment- it was no penthouse, but..it didn’t have mold, or visible cracks in the wall. It was short and to the point:

-Roommate wanted. No heroes, No cops. 20000 Yen / mo. Utilities included. Reply to set up interview.

…And why was it so cheap? The no cops and no heroes part threw him off for only a second; but he wasn’t exactly a fan of either, so no big deal. He replied, asking for the interview, and only got an address and date back, for tomorrow. Thank god. This was it! He was going to get a roommate, and get started in The City, and not get any organs harvested, probably!

——————-

He had the jitters; the potential roommate, (potential organ harvester), wanted to meet at an ungodly hour, so he decided to fill his day with caffeine. Because more jitters was what he needed, and it was cold out so it was totally justified, and looked like a more adult choice than an energy drink, even if that’s what he was craving. He needed something huge, with too much sugary shit on it.

“Uh..large..mocha..?”

The menu was practically hieroglyphic to him.

“A venti?” The man behind the counter asked. Shuichi floundered. He’d never been in a real coffee shop like this; he was a total fast food junkie, his old town only having a single McDonalds.

“Uh, is that the big one?”

The man was enjoying this. Where other people might have been helpful, he was just grinning, leaning on the counter. Shuichi was even more flustered when he got a good look, because powder blue hair tied up into a ponytail framed sharp red eyes: this wasn’t an average barista, this was a Hot Barista. And his gaze wasn’t letting up, not even a little.

“Yeah, it’s the big one. This is your first time ordering here, isn’t it?”

“You don’t have to be rude about it.” He fumbled. “Yeah, a venti.”

“Wasn’t trying to be rude. Actually, how about this. I throw in a few espresso shots for free.”

“Really?! Sure!” He had no idea what that meant, but the man’s sweet smile convinced him.

“Okay, what’s the name for that?”

“Sh..Spinner!” It was a snap decision; Being in The City, he needed to totally reinvent himself! Shuichi Iguichi was a socially anxious mess, depressed from a small town’s small ideas; Spinner was a cool, brave, outgoing guy who wasn’t afraid to try new things in his coffee or talk to new people!

It only took a minute; at this hour, not a lot of people were waiting around.

______

He was shaking so bad when he got to the apartment and couldn’t actually feel his sky-rocking heart anymore.

“Fuckin’ asshole poisoned me, stupid city-” His teeth were chattering, and he pulled his thin jacket around himself tighter. He’d downed the massive cup of coffee in one go because it tasted good! But something was definitely wrong, his heart had never raced this fast in his whole life. Even after several energy drinks on a serious gaming night!

The place looked normal, maybe a sketchy neighborhood, but nothing too bad.

A single knock on the door was all it took before it nearly flung off it’s hinges.

“Omigosh hiii! You must be the new roommate!” A blonde girl was grinning up at him with fangs bared. “What’s your name? I’m Toga!”

“Uh- I haven’t- I’m not really a roommate yet, I just g-”

“Toga, give the guy some space! I’m Jin, don’t even think about coming in my room or I’ll kill you! Haha, but actually come in whenever you want, don’t listen to me!”

“Uh-”

“Honestly, you’re both crowding him. Give the boy some space.” A..magician..? Said. Yes. A Magician. Right.

The City was wild. More people kept popping out of rooms…

“Hey.” A man sitting on the couch waved. “Dabi.”

A woman beside him waved a hand too, grinning behind stylish glasses. “Magne, but everybody calls me big sis, so don’t be formal~”

“Uh. Sh..Spinner. Am I at the right place?”

“Rents cheap ‘cause we all live here! Pretty cushy, right?” Toga spun her arms, as if to show him the living room. It..was nice enough, but for this many people? “Not that all of us hafta pay, but it’s good for people in need! Tomura’s so nice like that-”

“Kurogiri does the renting out for the landlord because he’s usually busy.” The magician informed him. “But he’s out this evening running errands, so you’ll have to talk to Tomura.”

“S-Sure. Where-”

“Over at the end of the hall.” Magne informed him. Everyone had gone oddly quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos earlier.

“Good luck, Spinner!” Jin saluted. “We won’t forget you!”

“He isn’t dead yet.” Dabi deadpanned. He wanted to think they were joking; but could he be sure?

He knocked on the door labeled ‘KEEP OUT’, and slowly twisted the knob. The room was pitch black except a game pause screen from a computer, illuminating crushed soda cans and powder blue hair.

No fucking way.

“You’re the coffee guy!”

“How are you still standing?” Gone was the clean uniform with too many buttons and the messy cute ponytail; the guy was in black pajamas and looked like he’d slammed hard drugs or something; his eyebags looked pretty serious in this lighting.

“Do you get off on trying to give customers heart attacks?! Seriously-”

“I gave you a free product, why are you complaining?”

“Dude!”

The guy, Tomura? Had enough decency to look a little embarrassed.

“…I thought you were a newbie hero or something.”

“What?! So you spiked my coffee?” He remembered the ‘no hero’ bit from the ad; this guy clearly wasn’t a fan. But… “Why would you think that?”

“…” He idly scratched his neck, and his eyes drifted to Shuichi’s well-defined arms. “I dunno.”

“…Sure. So you work at a cafe during the day and rent out apartments by night. I, uh..wanted to ask about that- the apartment!”

“Yeah, so this is it. The landlord is a regional manager for all the AFOffee’s Coffees around here; pretty much everyone here works at one- Toga doesn’t because she’s still in school, Mr. C adopted her so they live here…you can live here if you have a criminal record or whatever, bad credit, the landlord isn’t strict, but he’s got two rules.”

“Uh-no heroes or cops, right?”

“That’s one of them. The other is that if you’re able to work, you have to work at one of his shops. He’s gotta pretty fierce competition with All Might’s Express Marts. The pay’s good.”

A place to live and a job? He’d never heard of such a law- was it even legal to force your tenants to work for you? He didn’t know enough about the laws to know, and the place was shady, so were the people; but..but he’d come this far! He’d already decided he could handle shady! If he had to throw away his morals to make it here, so be it! He’d work for them!

“O-Okay! Yeah, let’s do it!”

“Okay, ‘Spinner’. I’m Tomura. Shigaraki.” He shuffled some papers around; they were crumpled up under the cans of soda, something spilt and stained on them. “Just fill it out. Also, if you quit the job before you move out, the manager will kill you.”

He laughed, and Spinner hoped he was joking.

But he kinda doubted it.

——–

So the first day was rough- by the end of the week he was ready to give up and die. He’d entered a pseudo-coffee-cult living situation. When Tomura had said the ‘manager’, he’d meant himself. His landlord- (who, apparently adopted him? Toga and Jin told him in late-night gossip-y talks that it was ‘complicated’ and that Kurogiri, who lived in the apartment above theirs basically raised Tomura for the landlord. The man seemed like the only one who ever brought food over that wasn’t junk.) Anyway, the landlord? Was also the district manager of all the AFOffee’s- and the founder, so kinda also the CEO- and Shigaraki was in line to inherit the whole business, so he got an easy ride into managerial status at a young age.

And he for sure did get off on fucking up orders, putting way too much sugar or caffeine in them and watching people try the vile concoctions. He was a sadist for sure. Maybe even the devil. Spinner had watched him down a cup that was half espresso shots and half ‘LOV energy drink XTREME ENERGY’ topped with whipped cream without flinching.

Also, that might have been the moment Spinner decided he felt strongly towards him; which way was debatable,it was always rapidly oscillating between a serious crush and seriously wanting to crush him. Because he got the absolute ass jobs, like scrubbing toilets and cleaning stuff around the bar instead of doing anything important or cool!

…As cool as you could get in a cafe, like, doing those cool patterns in coffee cream!

So he’d hit his limit, and stormed up to Shigaraki, crossing his arms and trying to look stern.

“Oi, Shigaraki! Why do you keep giving me the worst jobs?”

Red eyes blinked slowly at him, like Shuichi was stupid. Which made him more mad.

“Seriously! I want to be up here making the stuff!”

“…Sure, if you feel so strongly about it, I’ll train you up here.” He was surprised by how easily that was resolved, and almost felt bad for being so snappy.

“Uh. Okay! Thanks!”

“Yeah. So let’s start with sizes, since I know you don’t know them.”

It dawned on him, sometime later, that Shigaraki had been giving him the easy jobs, one hundred percent, absolutely. Customer service was a huge bitch, customers were all evil, and he was seriously considering doing some very mean, villainous things to them. He was only human! It wasn’t his fault if he wasn’t going as fast as they wanted, or if he messed up sometimes!

(Also, the coffee machine itself was distracting. It had googly eyes, and Tomura called it ‘Noumu’ affectionately. And he was totally distracted and spilling shit all the time because of that, not because of how cute his boss slash housemate was- yeah.)

__________

“I hate people,” He seethed. Shigaraki nodded. They were in the break room, about to open. “How do you even deal with that?”

“I hate them too. I deal with it because I’m the manager.” It was a shockingly mature answer. “Also, I get to tell them ‘no’ and tell them how stupid they are without being fired.”

Ah.

“But if they give you too much of a hard time, let me know.”

“Sure,” He said, noncommittally, because he didn’t really feel too comfortable relying on his boss too much; even if they lived together and kinda had gaming nights and stuff, it was like Shigaraki had a ‘day’ and ‘night’ mode; by night he was the kinda creepy, but fun gaming buddy roommate among several in their weird, kind of sweet clique, but during the day he put on a brave face and marched into the warzone that was fronting as a quaint coffee shop on the corner. It was admirable; Spinner really liked that about the guy.

No matter what, he never bullshitted either. Which was why Spinner was so conflicted about telling him how he’d been feeling, because while Shigaraki seemed to carefully consider how all of them felt, what if he was so honest that he’d laugh in his face? He could barely imagine it, but what if? The thought killed him, so he pushed it back.

——-

Opening the door was like opening the gates of hell; a businessman marched up to the counter, toting a Very Important Business Briefcase, and sunglasses indoors- but of course still made time to glare at Spinner with a tilt of his head.

“Two tall, iced, sugar-free, vanilla latte with half whole and half soy milk. And one non-fat frappuccino, tall, with two pumps vanilla.”

It was Friday, opening hour, and there was already a line, and this jerkoff wanted some really extra shit.

“Sure, can I get a name?” He got the name, and even made the drinks perfectly in record time! Not only were they perfect, but they were pretty as hell, and his handwriting had gotten a lot less shaky since starting this job.

He’d been so pleased when handing the drinks over that he had held them a little too tightly and one of his claws slipped into the plastic, making it go everywhere on the counter.

“Oh- I’m so sorry!” He gasped, pulling it back. Luckily, it hadn’t gotten on the guy, and it was iced, not hot, so- “I’ll make you another-”

“This is unbelievable. I’m going to be late to a meeting with the CEO- do you have any idea who I am? I’m about to be a business partner with this company you work for- I can get you fired over this.”

“What? I can make you another-” He gritted his teeth. “There’s no need to-”

“I want to speak to the manager, now,” The man had the audacity to snap his gloved fingers. Spinner was reaching his breaking point.

Then, deathly calm, Tomura cleared his throat from behind Spinner.

“I’m the manager.”

The man looked far too smug, and Tomura looked composed, but there was something wild in his eyes. Spinner took a step back unconsciously to get distance from the shitshow that was about to go down.

“Your employee spilled my drink everywhere. I think I should get something for that, and I think you should discipline him for that. If my subordinates messed up that badly, there’d be worse than a firing.”

“Is that so? What would you have me give you?”

“Upgrade my drink for free- no, the whole order free, make it a grande. That seems fair for my time.”

“A grande is smaller than a venti, dipshit.” He actually reached across the counter and ripped the man forward by his tie, halfway across the counter. Other customers yelped and flinched back, but Spinner just stared, wide-eyed in awe. “You have some nerve, coming in here asking my employee if he knows who you are when you don’t know who I am. He’s worth a hundred of you, and I’m going to call right now and make sure that you don’t only never get that business deal, but that you never step foot in an AFOffee again.”

“You can’t do that- I’m- I’m in the yakuza, I’ll-”

Tomrua slammed his head on the table so hard he made the man black out.

“Dude,” Spinner whispered. “That was so badass. Where-”

“The landlord used to be into crime, but decided to open up chain restaurants instead. Turns out ruling through capitalism is easier than villainy, but I picked up some tricks in the transition.”

“Uh,” Spinner’s mouth felt like cotton. That..explained a lot, actually. “Cool.”

“Yeah, we’re going to have to close for the day and clean this up; we can’t have anyone putting this on social media. Maybe I was too hasty?” He scratched his neck. “When I saw him berating you like that I got angry.”

So Spinner was certain those strong feelings were admiration, and kinda love? Because he’d never had someone fuck a guy up like that for him, and something about that was so…

So violently sweet.

—————–

“How do you do it?” He found himself asking while they were sweeping up; Kurogiri had stopped by and portalled the concussed yakuza away a while ago, and only the two of them were left in the shop. “Don’t you get fed up with that all the time?”

“Of course I do. I feel like I have so much pressure on me all the time, being next in line for this. I want to crush everything; I want to make those damn customers feel the despair they try to put on us.”

“I do too!” spinner gripped his broom tighter. “I want to see you destroy them all! So-!”

“Spinner.” Tomura interrupted him. “Kurogiri wants to reno one of the rooms into an activity room since there’s so many of us now.”

“What?” His heart practically stopped beating. He had been in the middle of a confession here!

“So..move into my room.”

“…There’s one bed.”

“And?” Tomura shrugged. “Kurogiri and Compress sleep together. I think Dabi and Magne-”

“I- What the hell. Of course I want to sleep with you, you don’t need to ask in such a roundabout way!” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he could feel his cheeks burning. “There’s so much I like about you, but you’re the most frustrating guy ever! Seriously, you-”

“Jeez, I wasn’t being roundabout, stop yelling-” Tomura had gotten up in his face, but instead of squabbling more, he brushed his lips against Spinner’s briefly, effectively shutting down all of his major brain functions. “-Oh, and relationships with employees is against the rules, so you’re fired.”

“What?!”

————-

“Those two seem cozy.” Magne commented.

“Please, we’re all a little cozy with each other. How long have we been living together?” Jin waved a hand. “They’re basically married!”

“I heard Tomura fired Spinner! Like, fired him!” Toga pouted. “He made up some weird rule that we had to work for him or something to spend time with him at work ‘cause he thought he was all pretty, but then cut it short! I don’t get it!”

“Ah, isn’t it obvious? It’s young love,” Compress sipped his tea. “They were making eyes since Spinner came in here, and then they were coworkers, and now…”

“And they were roommates.” Dabi said, smirking.

“Oh my god!” Toga shrieked with laughter. “They were roommates!”

#I had to add the Roomates Vine Im So Sorry #also. Noumu Coffee Machine.#bnhafic #spinnaraki #spinaraki #which is the tag ppl use idk jsdkfh #spinner is a precious baby and also the most relateable lov member 4 me so writing him was interesting!! ilu for asking for Them shfkcnjk #sanchoyowrites #sanchoyoanswersasks #fuschiaghosts #spinner canonly buys swords from craigslist thats a canon fact you can all deal with

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jennifersylvesters · 5 years

Text

ring ring ( part one )

Pairing: flower shop owner!Chris Evans x coffee shop manager!reader Word Count: ~3.2k A/N: an update after four months?? can you believe?? sorry for the wait on this! hopefully it doesn’t disappoint. thanks to fay for helping me edit this. feedback is always appreciated/loved aka it’d be real swell if you did

There was a certain rhythm in your life that you became used to. Certain sounds were easily recognizable as you became used to hearing them daily.

The gentle chimes indicated someone was either entering or exiting the shop. During busier hours, the chimes clanged violently with people bustling in and out.

The frantic beeping from the small timer reminded whoever was on “drip duty” to make a fresh batch of coffee.

These peculiar yet distinct sounds even helped you perfect shorter times when making drinks.

Three seconds of the hissing sound from the steam wand would shrill throughout the store before moving into a low rumble. You’d pour the milk into the cup before placing any necessary garnishes. Into the sink the used container would go, clunking as it fell. With a quick click of the lid snapping into place, you would call out the customer's name on the completed beverage. Warm water would quickly slosh through the barista cup and once clean, it was set aside, signaling you were finished with one order. And then it was onto the next one.

Sometimes these sounds blended together so effortlessly that you were unaware of how quickly time slipped away in the cafe.

When the morning rush dwindled down, you often took your lunch break. Before heading to the break room you always reminded the crew to tidy up, earning you eye rolls. Of course they would do so. They appreciated their dedicated leader too much than to let you down.

Silence lingered in the break room, often driving you crazy and forcing you to turn on the radio. While you ate, you ran through tasks you needed to complete. You’d scribble down everything swarming in your mind from the supply order that week to the notes you wanted to discuss with the owner. Lucky for you the monthly meeting with the big boss usually went fairly smooth seeing as he had complete faith in you.

When you finally finished creating tasks, your thoughts would roam to more pleasant and lighthearted topics. More often than not you wondered about what surprises your favorite day might bring.

Wednesday rolled around and you were mildly disappointed when Tommy swung open the door instead of Chris. Tommy was one of Chris’s workers who often did deliveries despite rarely delivering to you. That, of course, didn’t stop Tommy from frequenting the shop.

At this point you knew Tommy fairly well. He was a sweet kid with high energy, sometimes bouncing off the walls; the iced mochas you provided him never seemed necessary but who were you to deprive him of caffeine?

You greeted Tommy with a wave as you stepped from behind the counter. The bouquet in his arms was stunning, causing you to bite down on your lip; they were marigolds wrapped in brown wrapping paper with gold ribbon tying them altogether. You saw your name on the note written in gold ink and a small heart doodled at the end.

It made you wonder if your secret admirer had that good of handwriting or if he got someone else to write your name with such elaborate calligraphy. Either way, you couldn’t believe someone would gift you something as marvelous as this.

“Sorry to have your hopes dashed like that” Tom apologized, pulling you out of thoughts.

You turned your head up gazing at him questionably.

“Must’ve been expecting Chris, but you got me instead.”

“Oh, Tommy. That’s not true!” you replied, feeling guilt swell up. “I like when you drop by too! I think you’re great company! Really!”

He just smiled knowingly as he handed you the flowers. You took it into your arms cradling it delicately.

Gently tugging the note intertwined with the flowers, your face lit up seeing the words neatly sprawled on the paper.

Y/N,

Sometimes it's difficult choosing the right flowers. I want them to encapsulate your beauty yet I know that would never be possible. How could they ever compare to you? I hope these marigolds can express how much you light up my day.

-Your Secret Admirer

“These are lovely” you gushed. Tommy nodded his head watching your enamored state.

“He wanted to come, y’know.” Tommy mentioned as you reread the note, words always sweeter than the last. “He’s just, erm, tied up at the moment.”

You glanced up to see the young man fidgeting. He seemed slightly nervous, almost as if he said too much. Looking across the street, you saw Chris and his beau.

Scarlett’s hands were on her waist with a scowl upon her face while Chris’s brows pinched together. He tried taking her hand in his, but she yanked away. He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his temples. Despite being unable to hear the conversation, you could tell how she was shouting at him in the empty shop.

“It’s fine,” you managed out before turning away from the scene.

Something about the commotion you witnessed troubled you. Just the sight of Chris looking distressed made you wish there was something - anything - you could do to lift his spirits.

You hesitantly asked Tommy to wait a minute to which he nodded compliantly. As he drummed his fingers on the counter you made two cups of coffee, adding a sprinkle of vanilla and a dash of cinnamon. You slid the cups his way, announcing they were on the house.

“Thanks. He’ll appreciate it.” You ignored his latter comment and the scampish grin he wore walking out the door. He could think whatever he wanted about your feelings for the flower shop owner; it didn’t mean they were true. At least nothing you would ever admit out loud.

Work days had a defined rhythm, something you paced yourself to. Days off played differently with no distinctive beat. They left you with a desire to do something enjoyable outside rather than keeping yourself cooped up. Yet you often struggled to think of leisurely activities, asking friends for advice on what to do.

This week’s day off was no exception. You simply wandered around a recommended outdoor market, picking up a couple of items while conversing with friendly faces. By the time your evening rolled around, you settled on the plan of going to the movies.

Despite an invitation to go out to the bar with friends, tonight you wanted to relax and wind down; it would be a nice moment to simply breathe.

As you entered the multiplex’s lobby, you noticed a couple arguing near the napkin station. To your surprise, you recognized the pair as Scarlett and Chris.This felt like deja vu witnessing her lash out at him as he ran his hand through his hair frustratedly.

“Scarlett, please” he pleaded, taking her hand in his.

“Go watch the movie by yourself” she snapped as she yanked her hand away and stormed out of the theater.

As Chris stood there dejected, it nearly broke your heart. His slumped posture made him look so small and weak despite his tall stature. How someone could treat him so roughly was beyond your understanding.

“Hey, Y/N.” Shoot. You had been so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed his head turn and spot you nearby. You wanted to scurry off in hope he might believe he mistook you for the wrong person. But after seeing that terrible display, you weren’t sure you could muster that.

“Are you watching ‘Roman Holiday’ as well?” It made you wonder if Scarlett got upset because it wasn’t her first choice of film.

Still, you nodded your head at him, telling him how you planned on finding a good seat in the middle.

“Aw, c’mon. The middle? Where’s the fun in that?” he teased you. “You should sit with me.”

You knew it wasn’t a good plan. After all, you just watched him get into a fight with his girlfriend. But the way he looked at you - almost pleading for you to join his company - made you eventually agree to sit with him.

Despite the previous fight, he acted as if nothing happened between him and Scarlett. He walked in and scanned the auditorium before gesturing you to follow him. “The second to last row is the best option” he confirmed as he plopped down in the center of said row. You weren’t sure you agreed, but you took a seat to his right.

While waiting for the movie to begin, he apologized for not showing up on Wednesday to which you easily waved off. He informed you how his dog got sick and that he needed to attend to him. It made you wonder if this was an excuse to cover up the argument or if this was what set off the argument that day in the flower shop.

Still, you didn’t pry. You told yourself it wasn’t your business. If he could respect your privacy, you could extend the same courtesy. Instead, you switched subjects, talking about how earlier you spent time at the outdoor market he recommended you visit. He beamed as you told him how much you enjoyed the vendors there before proudly announcing that most of them were good friends of his.

As the lights dimmed, you realized that there were only four other people in the theater. Apparently no one wanted to pay to see a classic when they could watch it at home. But there was something more enjoyable about seeing it in a theatre with the huge screen; it was a completely different experience than your apartment’s small television.

Apparently Chris must’ve felt the say way as he leaned over and whispered “The movie theater’s really the only way to experience a classic, isn’t it?” You nodded, glad that someone understood your thoughts.

He asked if you wanted candy, holding out a bag of M&Ms for you to enjoy. You politely declined, stating that you bought Skittles. The two of you began to quietly argue about which candy was best only stopping when you became entranced by the film stars on the screen.

As the movie played, Chris repeatedly offered his popcorn to you. “It’s not like I can finish a whole tub by myself,” he insisted. You found yourself scooping up handfuls of popcorn as the movie progressed, leaning closer to him as he whispered fun facts about the movie.

By the time the credits rolled, you couldn’t believe how quickly the two hours flew by. You could’ve stayed longer if that meant you got to hang with Chris. He let out a low grunt as he stretched his arms up, inadvertently pulling his shirt up and exposing some skin. You turned away feeling shy by this view. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to have your nerves on end.

“That’s probably one of my favorite movies” he admitted as he stood up. As you both walked back to the lobby, you thanked him for his company. “Honestly, I should be the one thanking you” he replied flashing you a bright smile.

Why was it that he could get you so flustered with just a simple glance? You told yourself that he was off limits, yet your heart couldn’t help but beat faster for him.

He offered to walk you home and despite your initial protests, you were weak to his insistence. You were grateful for the good weather as the two of you walked side by side. Despite having longer legs, he took his time so that you never needed to catch up with his pace.

Normally silence bothered you, begging for something to fill the emptiness. Yet this moment being with Chris - arms gently swinging next to one another and just enjoy one another’s presence - was pleasant in a way that you couldn’t particularly define.

“Am I difficult?” he asked out of the blue. You paused, unsure of what to say. Where had that thought come from?

“No. I don’t think so. You’re really amazing” you assured him.

“Sometimes I feel-” he sighed, pausing as he attempted to construct his thoughts properly. “-It feels like I can’t do things right sometimes. Do y’know what I mean?”

Was this about Scarlett? His shop? Either way, this felt personal. You wondered if it was your place to even say anything. One look at his face and your heart ached at his visible frustration.

“I get it. But you’re not difficult, Chris. Maybe you’re going through something hard that I can’t understand, but I mean it. You’re not a difficult person. You’ve always been very nice to me, and I’m just...I guess I’m thankful for that.” You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks hearing those words slip out. It wasn’t a confession yet it felt oddly revealing.

Looking up at Chris, he seemed to be in higher spirits. With a lopsided grin on his face, he pulled you in for a hug, catching you by surprise. “Thanks” he murmured, holding you in his arms for longer than you expected. When he finally pulled away, all you could do was nod.

The rest of the walk was filled with Chris discussing his favorite movies with you. You couldn’t help but giggle as he proclaimed how much he loved Disney movies, admitting that he always cried at Mufasa dying. “I weep like a big ol’ baby! Just tears everywhere” he laughed, moving his hands around animatedly.

When you finally reached your apartment, he insisted you two should hang out again. It was a nice thought, something you wished could happen. Yet you knew it wouldn’t.

There was the factor of Scarlett being a part of his life. You highly doubted she would approve of him hanging out with you. In fact you could imagine the sharp glares she’d send your way, making your mornings even more difficult.

Not to mention the tiny detail that the more time you spent around Chris, the more you liked him. He wasn’t your secret admirer, yet his words constantly rung in your head. The minuscule facts that he told you stayed on your mind making you wish you could know him better. But he wasn’t yours to love or even dream about in a romantic way.

“Yeah, maybe” you shrugged, knowing that nothing would escalate. You wouldn’t let it.

“See you around, Y/N” he waved as you entered your complex. Despite repeating that you wouldn’t fall for Chris, you found yourself already looking forward to Wednesday.

Monday rolled around and you found yourself falling back into your normal routine once more. The repeated sounds comforted you as your workday flew by. As one of your workers went on their lunch, you found yourself reorganizing espresso bags until the chimes rang.

Peeking your head out of the stock room, you were surprised to see Anthony coming into the shop by himself. Normally he got coffee with Sebastian, but his upbeat presence was always welcomed.

“Hey, Anthony” you smiled, already grabbing a medium cup to get his usual dark roast. He grinned widely pulling out his wallet.

“You’re not even going to ask what I want?”

“Don’t tell me you plan on switching up on me now” you joked as you poured the coffee three fourths of the way. You ducked down to the fridge grabbing the whole milk and filling the rest of his order.

“Course not. But this sorta feels like you're trying to kick me out. You would kick this pretty face out just like that? ‘Cause that’s cold. I think I'm pretty good company to be done dirty like that.” You rolled your eyes at his joking nature.

“If you say so.” Ringing up his order, you slid the coffee his way as he handed you a couple bills insisting you keep the change. Tossing the change into your tip jar, you started back towards the stock room when you realized he still stood in front.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” he asked nervously.

You nodded, curious what had him so serious and perplexed. “Go for it.”

“What are your thoughts on Sebastian?”

You paused trying to think of what to say. It wouldn’t be professional to talk about any of your customers in such an impolite manner, but how could one even explain the feelings you had towards Sebastian?

“I don’t mean to be intrusive” he apologized. “It’s just...Seb isn’t particularly mindful about how he’s perceived.”

“He’s” - you paused, selecting your words carefully - “very thoughtful in his own specific manner.”

This notion seemed to relieve Anthony, who took a deep breath before scratching his eyebrow. “Yes, that’s one way to view him.”

The door chimed and both of you turned spotting Sebastian at the front. Speak of the Devil. He paused, letting the door swing shut behind him. The bartender seemed confused by his friend’s presence, quirking his eyebrow up as he stared at Anthony. His friend just returned the glance with a tight lipped smile.

Despite this strange energy, you warmly welcomed Sebastian into the shop.

He approached the pair of you slowly, hands shoved in his pockets as his eyes flicked from you to his friend. There seemed to be a mental communication between the men as Anthony quickly dismissed himself, thanking you before giving a brief nod towards Sebastian.

“He wasn’t…” Seb started, watching his friend rush out the door. “He didn’t say anything inappropriate, did he?”

You shook your head as Seb seemed to be relieved at your response.

Grabbing a cup, you began working on a latte as Sebastian watched you with a puzzled expression. “Decaf latte with skim milk and two shots, one pack of raw sugar, and a sprinkle of cinnamon, right?” He blinked, taken back by your recital of his usual order. Normally you simply made his drink while he finished the rest of the minor details at the milk and sugar bar. Then again he never spoke much besides his order and a gruff thanks; so perhaps he had good reason to be surprised.

Watching your brisk movements, he blinked a couple times before he nodding his head. “You can always ask us to put the sugar and cinnamon in for you, y’know? We don’t mind.” Seb said nothing, only listening to the sound of the espresso machine whirring as you hummed to the song that bustled throughout the shop.

Placing the coffee in front of him, you held up a hand indicating for him to stop rummaging for his wallet. “Wait one sec. Just...Try it first.” There it was again; the hesitant glance he gave you made you laugh. The more he resisted, the more you wanted this man to trust and understand you. “I wanna know that I did it right,” you reassured him.

His brow creased almost unnerved at how lighthearted you were in this matter. Sebastian took a sip before nodding his head. “Good” he grunted, which caused you to beam. It wasn’t much, but you could deal with baby steps.

“Glad to know that I can do something right” you smiled as you watched him stare down at his drink.

He slid a ten dollar bill your way. As you opened up the register to make change, he was already close to breezing out the door. He paused before leaving, turning and looking at you. “You’re a lot more amazing than you give yourself credit for” he stated, leaving the words to linger in your mind while a pink tinge lingered on your face.

tags list: @sleepybesson, @tomhaz, @supernatural-girl97, @sophiatomlinson23 | @allynalemons | @achishisha, @bibliophilicwit, @brastrangled, @calwitch, @iwonder-womani, @marvelellie, @mustbeaweasleyginger, @nicholasbich, @sillydecoy, @thinkin-bout-queue, @theonelittleone

bolded means tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #my writing #fic: ring ring #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastians stan fanfic

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vampiricalthorns · 6 years

Text

Piercings and Pastels pt 2

Yo, so it’s finally here! Just ... 17 months too late. This is a continuation of Piercings and Pastels one-shot that I posted ages ago. There will maybe be a part 3 to this if I can be bothered to write it. I really do spend a lot of time on creating content, and even though I don’t post original stuff as often as I probably should... anyway, there’s a link to my ko-fi in my blog description if you want to support my content.

“And therefore, the sum of this equation will be …”

Will sighed, looking down at the notes he had so nicely drawn in red and black. Math class had never been of his favourites, but he was well aware that it was a subject he wanted to be good at. He did care a lot about school, even if he happened to be punk as fuck and wasn’t hesitant to have slightly questionable style choices. Will knew that his sister Kayla wanted him to have the best shot at life possible, and that was why she kept criticising his clothing.

“Mr Solace, are you paying attention?”

Will looked up sheepishly. “What?”

“I asked you if you could be so nice to tell us the answer on the blackboard.” The teacher was glaring down on him, and Will could have a fair guess that he was not too happy with Will’s inattention.

Will looked at him, and then to the board. Realising he had not solved the equation, he caught Nico’s look and peeked into his notebook for the answer. “X is 8, and Y is 4.5.”

The teacher looked at him for a minute before nodding. “That’s correct Mr Solace, but please refrain from spacing out in my classes in the future.”

Will ruffled his hair and looked up at the big Starbucks symbol hanging over the entrance door. He took a deep breath and walked inside, being ambushed by the warm, coffee-scented air as opposed to the slightly chillier outside weather that did not smell like coffee. He had agreed earlier that week to meet Nico at the Starbucks so that they could work through their ridiculous amounts of math homework. Will was taking a fair guess that their teacher was not terribly happy with how inattentive his class actually was to his teaching.

“Hi, Will! Over here!” Will heard someone call from further inside the store. He looked around for the black mop of wavy hair that belonged to his now best friend. Today, Nico was dressed in pastel galaxy leggings, the same brown boots as he had worn the last couple weeks and an oversized pink knit sweater.

He slung himself into the chair opposite Nico. “What’s up?”

Nico smiled- the type of smile where he closed his eyes and held his hands up to his chest as if he was about to flap them. Will thought that was oddly cute. “Not much. Work’s drowning us as usual, but at least that’s an excuse to be productive.”

Will nodded. “Should I go get something to drink while you figure out exactly what we should do today and what we can wait with for later in the week?”

Having Nico’s nod of approval, Will put his bag down and got up. Placing himself at the back of the line, he looked over at where Nico was reading in his planner while pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. The purple hair clips didn’t look like they were there for anything than decoration. Cute.

He had only known Nico for a little under two weeks now, but it felt like they had been friends for way longer than that. He was like a missing childhood friend Will had only just met again, but he knew that was impossible. Will let a small smile slip as he looked up at the menu for what to get. Nico seemed like a hot chocolate person. Or maybe a Frappuccino.

“One Coffee Mocha and one Hot Chocolate please,” he told the barista, who nodded and then told him the sum of what he had to pay. After paying, he stepped to the side and looked out of the window.

They were just a couple weeks into the school year, but Will didn’t feel overworked like he usually did. Will had easily fallen into the routine of working along with Nico, who had surprisingly good control of schoolwork and when stuff was due.

“What did you get me?” Nico asked curiously when Will came back to the table and put down two cups. Will looked at him, suddenly slightly anxious that he had gotten the wrong thing for his friend. “You didn’t specify what you wanted, so I just got you hot chocolate. Was that okay?”

Nico looked surprised for the fraction of a second before grabbing the cup with both of his hands and smiling up at Will- the same adorable scrunched-up eyes smile that made Will’s legs just the tiniest bit weaker. No, we will not fall for this person now, William, even though you already did, you dumb fuck.

“Thank you, Will,” Nico said earnestly. “I thought you were going to get me coffee, but hot chocolate is just as okay. Really. I enjoy hot chocolate too.”

Will sat down again and thought for a moment before pushing his cup of coffee over to where Nico was sitting. “You can have a sip or two if you need caffeine. That’s really okay. I don’t mind sharing at all.”

“It’s a nice apartment you got,” Nico commented after Will had locked himself into his and Kayla’s apartment. It was later in the day, and Will had invited Nico over for food and video games- if Nico was up to video games of course. In the back of his mind, Will was very well aware of all the boxes still unpacked in their apartment.

“Thanks,” Will replied, throwing his keys into the bowl on the small table they kept in the hallway. It was filled with what looked like Kayla’s asthma medication (Will knew she kept one in her bag too, so she was good, a pack of chewing gum and what looked like post:it notes and pens. “It’s a bit messy since we only moved in here like three weeks ago.”

Nico shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me. It’s not like my home is pristine at all times too. We’re all human, Will.”

Will snorted and flashed Nico a creepy grin, one that made his lip piercing glint in the hallway light. “Are you sure about that, di Angelo? For all you know, I could be a demon preparing to steal and devour your soul.”

Feeling accomplished that he had made Nico laugh, Will made his way into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He hadn’t had enough to drink that day, and to be entirely honest, he was aware that his head was not too happy about that. “Do you want a glass of water too, Nico?”

He turned around when he heard the sound of soft socks moving over the laminate floor. There was Nico, hands hidden inside the oversized sweater and dragging his feet across the floor. His feet- clad with soft purple socks. What an adorable person.

He didn’t hear Nico’s answer. “What did you say again?”

Nico laughed again. “No, it’s okay, Will. Yes, I would like a glass of water, thank you.”

Will turned around again and grabbed a glass, filling it with water from the tap, trying his best to hide his blush. He was sure that the water was safe to drink.

“Thank you for helping me out with homework today,” Will mentioned as he handed Nico the glass. “I’m a horrible procrastinator unless someone kicks my butt the entire time I’m working.”

He put down his glass next to the sink and looked at Nico. “I need to go to the bathroom, but I will be right back. If you want, you can wait in my room. Second to the right down the hallway.”

Having Nico’s nod of approval, he left the kitchen, walked down the hallway and into the bathroom, sinking down against the wall with a sigh. He was falling. Hard.

Why am I doing this to myself? Will thought desperately, staring at himself in the mirror. Staring back at him was a teenager with faded red-dyed hair, piercings and a black band merch hoodie. It had been through the wash so many times that it was impossible to read exactly which band it was. He knew though, and somehow Nico had too. My Chemical Romance was always recognisable.

Deciding that he had stayed long enough in the bathroom for it to be convincing that he hadn’t just contemplated 666 ways of isolating himself from the world because he was an emotional little shit, Will flushed the toilet and left the room. He took yet another deep breath before walking into his bedroom, where Nico was sitting on his office chair. “You look like a child when you swing your legs back and forth like that.”

Nico rummaged through his pockets and dug out a lollipop, ripping off the wrapper before sticking it into his mouth. “Do you mind that?” The look he sent Will made Will’s heart skip a beat. How dare you be so adorable you little shit. This is unfair because I really want to kiss you but what if you don’t want to kiss me. This is kinda awkward.

“Not really no,” Will admitted, slumping down on his bed, shielding his eyes from the harsh bedroom ceiling light. “I can’t handle all the light. Nico, protect me!”

Nico sighed, kicking Will’s shin with one of his floofy-socks-clad feet. “Oi, you’ll survive. Get over it. It’s not like the ceiling light will give you a sunburn or anything like that.”

Will looked at him through the curly dark red fringe. “Are you honestly sure about that? Don’t test me here, I can manage everything if I try hard enough.”

“Sure, because you can fly. I’ll believe it when I see it, Solace,” Nico said, not quite able to hide the smile and giggles.

Will didn’t even reply to that as he stared at Nico, wondering what he was supposed to do with himself if Nico continued to act like the cutest person alive. God damn it, he wasn’t supposed to deal with complicated feelings like this. Love really was a weird thing.

He coughed, trying to clear his throat, although there was nothing to clear. “Is there anything, in particular, you want to eat? I can order pizza.”

Nico nodded. “No, pizza sounds good. I don’t eat it a lot, but pizza is always good.”

After discussing back and forth for a couple minutes trying to find something they both liked, they settled for something along the lines of ham and mushrooms (neither of them liked the mushrooms, but they were always peel-off-able so it wasn’t an issue.)

They ate the pizza discussing different tv shows they had watched recently, but it quickly turned into a heavy debate and rant about the shitty teachers at school.

“The English teacher, Mr Reynolds, is shit,” Nico argued. “He’s always mean to me because my English isn’t perfect and he hates Italians for a reason I don’t even understand. I think his life goal is to see me fail, although I wish him good luck with that since I manage to score well on every single test.”

“He’s not the best, no,” Will agreed. “But the history teacher is worse. Or, the worst, Blackwell, math. He’s the nightmare of nightmares. I don’t like him at all. Especially with the amount of homework he sent us home with this week.”

Nico nodded, a piece of cheese hanging out from the side of his mouth. Will had to fight the urge to remove it. “That was ridiculous. He can’t expect that much of us this early in the term.”

“Well, apparently he doesn’t care that we have to sit an hour longer every night solving equations and trig questions,” Will muttered, staring towards his backpack that was on the couch, containing the damned math homework they had barely made a dent in. “I need to go buy more paper Monday afternoon. I’m out of grid loose leaf paper after all the homework.”

“I can give you some if you remind me tomorrow night to put some more in my backpack,” Nico offered around a giant piece of pizza. “Should last you through Monday at least so that you can go after school and get more. I can come with you if you want to. I need to get more whiteout anyways so I might as well get it done then so I can stop borrowing yours all the time.”

Secretly, Will hadn’t minded that Nico had borrowed his whiteout, even though he was running low too. It wasn’t like both of them wrote everything perfectly on the first try.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Will! We-el! I’m here! Behind you!” Nico shoved his way through the school corridor calling for Will. “Will! You big emo oaf, stop so I can catch up to you!”

Will turned and looked down, where he saw a pastel figure fight his way through the sea of navy and beige trying to get to him. He motioned towards the door in the gesture of “I will meet you outside so I don’t get killed by the rest of year 10 for causing a clot in the school circulatory system.

Will quickly got out of the door and closed the flap on his bag while waiting for Nico. He had barely lasted through the day, being out of whiteout (he had given the very rest to Nico and resorted to writing with pencil most of the day which he typically didn’t like but it was worth it), but he had somehow managed. He had remembered to bring his wallet (a personal achievement in his opinion, considering how forgetful he usually was) and his crush on Nico was (as always) very present.

He looked at Nico fighting his way out of the mob of students either getting to a new class or leaving and smirked.

“Are you okay there, Nic?” Will said, teasingly bending down to the same height as Nico’s offended face. He knew that Nico was sensitive about his height, and truth be told, Will loved teasing him about it.

Nico scoffed and crossed his arms. “Don’t call me that.”

Will just laughed and ran his hand through his hair before staring in the general direction of the bus stop. “So, do you wanna go to the tiny bookstore around here somewhere and get paper and whiteout or do you wanna go to the city and get what we need and some coffee afterwards?”

Nico smiled up at him. “That sounds nice.”

And Will melted slightly inside.

#solangelo #nico di angelo #will solace #pjo #hoo #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #percy jackson #riordanverse #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #pastel punk au #pastel!nico #punk!will

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acabecca · 6 years

Text

Endless list of OCs // Calen Myers - Tangled Up [The Originals AU]

Notes: AU. AU AU AU AU AU. I cannot stress enough how AU this is. Very AU.

Pregnant.

She was pregnant.

She was 18 years old, she was pregnant, and she was pretty sure she was going to be homeless when her parents found out about the whole sorry mess she had managed to get into.

She was probably about to be friendless as well - Kol was going to hit the roof when he found out.

He was probably going to disown her, Bekah would obviously side with her big brother and she couldn’t imagine Esther going against her two babies just to help her out, which meant Calen was going to be completely alone.

Not completely, she thought as her hand subconsciously made its way to her tummy.

Oh God, she was going to give up coffee. She remembered when her cousin was pregnant a few years earlier, she had given up every form of caffeine after deeming it bad for the baby.

Calen couldn’t function without caffeine – especially on very little sleep, which was what she was going to get once the tiny human in her belly started using her bladder as a squeeze toy. Actually, she had been surviving on no more than four hours sleep per night for the past week and a half since first suspecting she might be pregnant.

She hadn’t given up coffee then, of course. Nothing was definite yet and it had taken her that long to pluck up the courage to take a pregnancy test, but she had done and now that it was confirmed, she felt guilty for craving a white chocolate mocha from the local coffee shop she was headed to.

All she wanted to do was go back home, get in bed and hide under her covers for the next year, but she knew she had to tell Kol before anyone else did. She needed to explain what had happened, needed to know if she was going to lose him because of it.

She felt sick as she pushed open the door to the coffee shop, the familiar, homely smell that was usually so comforting to her doing little to settle her churning stomach or her hands that had started to shake with nerves.

“Hey Callie, he’s upstairs pretending to study,” Rebekah told her immediately, swinging her legs round on the stool as she sipped on her tea. “He told me to send you right up.”

“H-he knew I was coming?” Calen stuttered, afraid that somehow, someone has already told him the news, but the younger girl frowned at her in confusion.

“You always come round, Callie.”

“Oh,” she let out a breath of relief. “Of-of course. Of course I do, sorry Bekah,” she shook her head, making her way behind the counter and past the kitchen so she could walk upstairs to the flat that had always been empty and had somehow turned into her and Kol’s hangout spot, Rebekah tagging along with them for the last year or so (ever since her friends had realised just how hot her big brother was, Rebekah had deemed him cool enough to hang out with because it made her just that little bit more popular, much to Kol’s dismay and Calen’s amusement).

The little flat had been her escape from her home life and her overbearing parents. It had been a place to relax on her breaks when she was working at Esther’s coffee shop and a place she and Kol could study in peace (although studying usually turned into them binge watching a show on Netflix).

Jesus, she was probably going to lose her job as well. Not that she could blame Esther for firing her – Calen had betrayed Kol, her best friend in the whole entire world and Esther’s baby boy. The Mikaelson’s had been so good to her (well, most of them had), Esther had given her a job to get her out of the house and help her save a bit for college, Kol had given her sanity when her parents were driving her mad, and this is how she repays them.

She was going to end up homeless, jobless, and alone. There was no hope for her or for her little baby.

“I can feel you lurking in the hallway, Callie!”

She squeezed her eyes shut, her hand wrapped around the doorknob as she heard Kol’s voice drifting through. She loved his voice… His accent. It was the whole reason they were friends – little eleven year old Calen had been fascinated with the new British boy in her class and he had quickly become part of her little group of friends.

Of course, some of those friends had drifted away over the years, some of them had come back, but Kol had always been there from the very first day she met him right up until now.

There had been an awkward phase when they were 15 and they'd tried the whole dating thing because they felt like they had to, it was what everyone was expecting, but ultimately they (and everyone else) had realised they were better off as friends than anything more.

And now she was going to lose him.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside the flat, the plan she had formed to gently break the news to him running through her head. Ease him into it, explain what had happened, try and make him understand… Then drop the bombshell of who the father was.

“Hey,” she smiled weakly, seeing him lying on his stomach on the floor, his school books spread out in front of him. She was surprised to find him actually studying for once, but then she saw the laptop in front of him and realised he was just, as usual, watching Netflix.

“Hey, want one?” he asked, holding out a plate full of cookies he had undoubtedly swiped from his mother’s coffee shop.

“No thanks, I’m good,” she waved her hand at him, inwardly cursing her voice for shaking as he turned to look at her curiously, his mouth full and his eyes narrowed as he tilted his head to the side.

“What’s up?” he asked slowly. “You look like shit. You’ve not got that bug that was going round, have you? Because Rebekah only recovered a few days ago and I am not taking care of you like I had to take care of her - there’s only so much vomit a guy can deal with, y’know? Especially when I get little to no thanks for being such a good big brother and making sure she didn't die from-”

“I’m pregnant!” she squeaked, interrupting him and immediately screwing her eyes shut.

Good one, Calen. So much for easing him into it. There goes that plan.

“You’re… Sorry, what?” Kol shook his head, pushing his laptop to the side and sitting cross-legged on the floor. “You’re what?”

“I-I’m pregnant,” Calen stuttered.

“...Pregnant? With like… a baby?” he asked dumbly, and Calen raised her eyebrows. “What a silly question. Of course you’re pregnant with a baby. What else are you going to be pregnant with? You’re pregnant. With a baby. Shit.”

“Yeah,” she muttered quietly, collapsing into the armchair that Kol had managed to sneak upstairs and which Esther still hadn't noticed was missing (or was pretending she hadn't noticed was missing) for the last two months. “Shit.”

“Shit, Callie,” Kol’s eyes went wide as he ran a hand through his hair. “Are you- I didn’t even- I mean… You’re seeing someone? Obviously, you’ve been seeing someone unless this is the second coming of Christ which I highly doubt. I don’t- you didn’t even tell me you liked anyone, let alone that you were seeing someone!”

“Because that’s the important thing in this scenario? Who I’ve been seeing?” she asked incredulously. “Because I think the fact that I am going to have an actual human person completely reliant on me in a few months is a little more pressing than who I like or don’t like!”

Kol stared at her in disbelief as he shuffled across the floor until he was kneeling in front of her. “I’d say it’s pretty important, Calen, considering he’s gotten my best friend pregnant.”

“I’m- I’m not even seeing him, anyway,” she whispered, shrugging her shoulders weakly and tearing her gaze away from Kol’s. “I thought I was, I thought we were… y’know. I thought he liked me and stuff, that we could maybe make a go of things eventually? It was complicated and we… We just wanted to keep things quiet for a bit because his- because there are people that wouldn’t really approve of it?”

“Jesus Christ Calen please tell me he isn’t married.”

“Of course he’s not married, what do you take me for?!” she cried. “It’s just that… It’s complicated. But it doesn’t matter anymore anyway, because he wants nothing to do with me anymore. I spoke to him a few hours ago and… Well, whatever it was is over. He made it pretty clear that he isn’t interested in me or the baby, so I guess that’s it.”

Kol’s eyes seemed to darken and Calen gulped as his jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. She rarely ever saw Kol angry, he was normally so happy and full of light, making her happy and making her laugh, that it always shocked her on the few occasions she saw him begin to lose his temper.

“What?” he growled.

“It doesn’t even matter-”

“Of course it matters! He’s just going to knock you up and leave you?”

“Kol honestly-”

“I’ll kill him-”

“Kol!” Calen leaned forward, grabbing one of his hands and uncurling his finger. “Please. It’s not worth it, I can… I can do this. I can have a baby.”

He swallowed, looking up at her carefully. “Calen your parents are going to kill you.”

She groaned loudly. “I know. But it’s okay, I don’t need them. I’ll… I can ask Esther for more shifts, right? And I can- maybe I can even move in here! Yeah, there’s plenty of room for me and a baby here! I can do this. I have to do this, I don’t have any other choice. Well- I do have other choices but- this is what I want to do, Kol. I can do this by myself.”

“No,” he shook his head. “No, you can’t, and you’re not going to. You don't have to do it alone. I’ll help you.”

“…Kol-”

“I’m going to help you, Callie.”

“Kol you’re going off to college-”

“Forget that,” he waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t have to go to college, I’ll get a job. We can move in here, I’m sure my mother would let us rent it for less than she would anyone else. You can’t keep working in the coffee shop all the time, not when you’re pregnant and certainly not when the baby gets here, you’re going to need time off and your parents aren’t going to be much help, are they? I’ll easily get a job, I can help you, and I can be the cool uncle, right?”

Calen’s heart jumped in her chest as she looked at the small, hopeful smile on Kol’s face and she knew she was going to absolutely shatter him with the next words that left her mouth.

“I can’t, Kol,” she told him hoarsely, tears clouding her vision as she quickly reached up and wiped her eyes. “I can’t, because you’re going to hate me.”

“What?” he frowned in confusion, his fingers curling round hers. “Calen, I could never hate you. You’re my best friend, I love-”

“The baby,” she interrupted quickly. “It’s… The father.”

“…Yeah?”

Taking a deep breath, Calen pulled her hand out of Kol’s grasp and bit down on her bottom lip, ignoring the sickly feeling swimming round in her stomach as she looked into Kol’s eyes which were full of concern.

“It’s Klaus.”

#ocappreciation #allaboutocs #toalltheocsivelovedbefore #the originals fanfiction #calen myers #fic: tu

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aj-the-psycho · 5 years

Text

The Hour: A Sanders Sides Story - Chapter 3

COFFEE SHOP, MORNING CLASS AND AN OPPORTUNITY

TW: None

Summary: Logan and Patton finally met for the first time. Roman was given an opportunity.

AO3 Link

As soon as he entered the coffee shop, Damien made a beeline to the counter, eager to get his daily dose of caffeine. He ordered vanilla mocha latte for Patton and a classic cappuccino for himself, along with two soft-baked chocolate chip cookies to share. Since his class only started at two p.m. and it was still the beginning of the school year, meaning there weren’t a lot of assignments yet, he soak the memory of quiet moments such as this. He let himself enjoy the peaceful times that he gets to spend with his brother, knowing that these moments will get rare in the future, especially with both of them already in their third year. He looked over his shoulder to see Patton following behind him, scanning the coffee shop to find a sitting spot. A small smile bloomed in his lips. He loves his brother very much, he just doesn’t know how to show it. Between the twins though, it’s an understood thing.

Upon closing the door behind him, Patton scanned the shop to find a sitting spot for them. Preferably near the big floor-to-ceiling window, so they can bask in the morning sunlight. The coffee shop was still quite empty, with only some lone patrons sitting here and there. Patton saw a nice spot in the corner at the back near the two customers who looked like they were having an argument.

‘Huh, he looks familiar.’ But didn’t think about it too much. Patton was about to inform Damien of the sitting spot that he wanted before he heard it;

“Roman! Stop it!” Patton looked back to the duo he saw just a second ago. And then it dawned on him. ‘Oh…’ He let out a loud gasp. Of course it was him. It was his match, that’s why he looked familiar.

----------

Roman heard a loud gasp an looked over his shoulder. He saw that Logan was staring at something behind him, so he followed Logan’s gaze and looked over his shoulder. He saw a man with wavy brown hair and glasses standing between the door and the counter, mouth slightly open. Roman concluded in his head that this man was the source of the noise he heard earlier. What’s most noticeable from this man however, the mismatched colors of his eyes. Remembering from Logan’s story about his hour, this man with mismatched eyes is probably Logan’s soulmate. Understanding the situation—meaning he noticed how long they’ve stared at each other—Roman nudged Logan’s foot with his own.

Feeling the Roman lightly pushed his foot, Logan averted his gaze back to Roman. He understood what Roman meant: “Talk.” However, he couldn’t bring himself to let out even the smallest noises. He silently thanked Roman when he decided to talk instead. He does like being the center of attention anyway.

“Well hello there, is there anything we could help you with? Oh, sorry. I’m Roman Cascales and this is…” Roman started speaking and trailed off, urging Logan to introduce himself.

“Ah, yes, pardon my rude behavior. I’m Logan Sharp. I assume you know who I am?” Logan phrased the last sentence like a question.

“Um, you’re my—” Before he could finish the sentence, an identical copy of the man appeared, albeit without glasses.

“What’s happening?” Damien interrupted, looking cautious and ready if anything is threatening his brother.

Damien raised a brow at his brother in a silent question, “soulmate?” Patton responded with an enthusiastic nod.

“You’re my soulmate,” Patton said again.

Even though he knew he was looking at Patton's soulmate, Damien’s eyes soften a little after hearing how Patton said those words with so much hope and emotion. Who could blame him though? He had been waiting for this moment for almost a year. Even Damien himself would very like to meet his own soulmate. Damien was still cautious, however and did not let his guard down. Nothing is going to do anything to Patton on his watch. Damien gave Roman a short nod and then focused on Logan. He knew which one of the two was Patton’s soulmate without having to ask. He’d heard enough of this man from Patton to know that the other guy was too buff to be Patton’s soulmate.

Patton quickly walked to Logan’s side and gave Logan a brief hug. “Oh wow, it’s real! I’m not dreaming! Well, it’s nice to finally meet you in person. Looks like the universe wants us to meet two days earlier than planned!”

“Pat…” Damien said softly. Patton understood what he meant.

“Oh, whoops. Sorry. I’m Patton Harvey, I think you know that. And this is my brother, Damien.” Damien nodded to both Roman and Logan, then went to the counter to get their coffee and cookies. Meanwhile, Logan who was still surprised by the unexpected encounter was even more surprised when Patton hugged him.

“Well, this is nice and all, but I would have to go now. I have class in twenty minutes.” Roman said suddenly, looking a little offended at being ignored.

On one side, Logan was okay with Roman leaving because he would have some time alone with his soulmate. However, Roman leaving also means that he would have to deal all of this alone. He’s going to die.

----------

Roman left the coffee shop, a little relieved that he can get out of that awkward situation. Usually he was always the one to diffuse awkward situations, but this time he didn’t feel like it and preferred to escape the whole scene altogether.

‘Why can’t people just see that soulmates are just not a good concept. Logan and this Patton guy didn’t even seem compatible. It’s all just gonna fail and lead to all sorts of unwanted mess. Soulmates just make people feel obligated to date each other just because they were a match and then they’re trapped in a loveless relationship. Well, that’s not important to me right now. Class is fifteen more minutes and I’m going to be late if I don’t hurry.’

Roman walked faster to his class in the arts department. He chose to study fine arts, because he would like to dwell in his big imaginative brain while still making money. He has always been fascinated with art since he was young. Especially paintings and performing arts. Roman have always dreamed of becoming an actor and maybe making it big in Broadway someday. Although he didn’t believe in ideas of soulmates and chose to ignore them, he couldn’t help but wonder, ‘What’s my soulmate even like?’

----------

“I hate morning classes!” Virgil sulked, venting out his frustrations at his cousin who was walking next to him. It was a warm morning in campus. Though in Florida, good weather don’t always last. It could always rain later. Virgil half dragged his feet on the ground, a travel-mug full of coffee in one hand, not feeling to great at the moment. “Seriously, I have to wake up early and I have to use my brain early. Why can’t the universe just leave me in peace?”

“Well, I totally relate to you, brateyek.” Remy said, looking to be in a similar state as his cousin. Remy and Virgil were both Russian. Like his uncle, Remy grew up in Russia but moved because his match is from the United States. His uncle eventually stayed in the states and married his soulmate, making Virgil half Russian. Even though Remy and Virgil grew up far away from each other, they were still very close. That’s why Remy refer to Virgil as his little brother even though they were the same age. Remy is just five months older.

“Ugghhhh… I wish a meteor struck me right about now. It sounds better than having to do literature in the morning.”

“Better that, I will have to face Roman in the morning.” Remy said, scrunching his face even more when he realized what he just said. “He’s a great guy! I like him a lot. But I’m going to die if I have to see him in the morning.”

“I bet he’s a morning person. Please, never introduce me to this guy.”

“Mmm… okay, see you later brateyek.” Remy said without energy and walked to the arts department.

“Magnificent morning to you, Russian guy.” Roman greeted with his usual booming voice.

“Please, whisper would you? And, excuse me sestra, I have a name."

“Eh, no one can pronounce your name.”

The campus bell rang and Roman sat himself down next to Remy. “You can just call me Remy instead of my Russian name.”

The professor, already standing in front, started the class. About an hour later the class closed to an end.

“Before you leave,” The professor said, “I have a rather interesting announcement.” The class started to discuss and speculate among themselves about what was happening. “We are going to have a theater production, with a twist.” The class listened intently. “The production is going to be an original from one of you and only one of you. You are not obligated to participate, but if you are interested, the due date is three months from now. If your idea is accepted, the university will sponsor you.”

Roman immediately perked up at the mention of a theater production. He began to bounce even more excitedly in his seat—irritating a sleepy Remy in the process—when the professor informed that an original idea for the production was going to be used. This is his chance. His brain already bursting with ideas. Images, scenes and scenarios exploding in his mind. He can’t wait for it to happen.

**********

Hi again!! Thanks for reading. Please give some feedback in the comment section.

Russian vocabs (tell me if I made any mistakes):

Brateyek Братик [brother (in diminutive form)]

Sestra Сестра [Sister]

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themockingcrows · 6 years

Text

Whisper Just For Me Ch. 14: Rescue

THIS CHAPTER IS SFW AO3 Mirror- [X]

When you and Jade were finally given a direction as to where Dave might be, you had hopes it would be a quick and easy process to get him back. Obviously you were an idealistic idiot who was already desperate after so long apart from a loved one, but there's still hope that the lead won't be full of false directions. How can you get your ghost home and talking to you?

Eating wasn't always the answer, but it was the answer often enough that Jade felt it was a safe idea as anything else to grab some to go food to nibble on while driving or after arriving home. While you hung to your phone to listen to Rose explain things, buying some extra time in case it turned out there was somewhere aside from your apartment that needed to be driven to on short notice, she had approached a McDonald's drive through and started to place an order for the two of you.

“Hmm... Give me twenty nuggets. Uhhhh two large fries” she said, humming. How much caffeine did she feel like having at this time of day? A lot. “A large mocha frappe.”

“Rose, what the fuck do you MEAN you think Dave was typing to you?” you say into the receiver, trying to wrap your mind around what you were hearing. “He's a ghost! An old ghost! He doesn't know how computers work yet!”

“Aaaaaand a large coke,” Jade added, trying to decide what else. Might as well stock up now while they were somewhere cheap, nibble at things later or have a midnight snack. Ooh, maybe some other dollar menu things.

“John,” Rose said in your ear. “I know. Believe me, I know. This is sort of my specialty, if you've already forgotten the amount of help I've given you directly up until this point.”

“No, no, I know,” you promise.

“Maybe two apple pies?”

“Would you like to try our new strawberry and crème pie?” came the crackling voice through the speaker outside the driver's side window.

“Good. I'm glad you know,” she said. “Now we can skip the subtleties and get back to the part where I was telling you I may know where Dave is, or at least have a hint on where he might be.”

“Ah, no,” said Jade.

“YES, THAT!” you shout, too jumpy for your own good. “Sorry, jus-”

“Okay so that's twenty nuggets, two large fries, a large mocha frappe, a large coke, two apple pies and a strawberry crème pie.”

“No!” Jade hurriedly said, shooting a look your way in frustration. “No, not the last pie.”

“So no pies?”

“No, no, I want the apple pies, not the strawberry please!”

You rub the bridge of your nose and turn slightly in your seat to hold your phone closer to your ear, plugging the far ear to ignore the back and forth out the window. “Rose. Sorry, we're at the McDonald's still, can you go back to the telling me things wisely part?”

“How forward thinking of you,” she said. You can hear a soft tinkling sound, a spoon in a cup of some kind. Maybe some tea or cocoa. ...Then again, Rose is a gremlin, it's probably coffee of some kind being mixed up that you hear. “Like I said earlier, I received communication that I'm quite sure was Dave, and that I'm also quite sure was sent from the location he's at instead of by some interception of a signal. I've no idea how a thing like that would actually work otherwise, nor do I believe he's capable of that.”

“How are you so sure it's Dave though? You never said.”

“He mentioned you by name,” she said. “Was asking for help, said he was lost. Kept saying Home and John. If that's not Dave trying to get assistance from someone, then I don't know who else you've managed to attract from the spiritual realm but you need to tell me your secret.”

“You make it sound like I'm some kind of ghost gigolo and I dunno how I feel about that.”

You could practically hear Rose smile.

“Would you like the address where I'm fairly sure he's at? Perhaps you could grab him. She's not answering texts or any online pings, something's likely happened or she's just plain not home if there's no answer or no reaching out to me,” Rose said. “...Though, I don't know how open she'd be to two people barging in talking about ghosts.”

“How did he even get to wherever this place is?” you ask as the vehicle slowly starts to move forward, adjusting your weight to avoid the awkward slide when it stopped again at the first window to pay the person who'd apparently taken the initial order if the voice you heard earlier was the one you thought it was now.

“Well, unless you evicted him from his pendant, I assume Roxy found it and brought it home one way or another. Perhaps it changed hands a few times before coming to rest there. I really don't know, but I'm not sure he could have detached himself on his own for any reason. It takes a lot of effort to manage something like that.”

“Roxy?” you ask. The name's familiar from somewhere but you can't immediately place it after the long day of ups and down's you'd been having.

“She's family,” explained Rose patiently. “She's heard me discuss ghosts before, and I believe I've even mentioned your haunting to her before, but I've got no idea how much she may have retained from those talks. Ghosts were never really her thing.”

“Family of yours and not into ghosts?” Hard to imagine. The second window was approached and Jade was soon setting the crinkly bag inside on the floor for later nibbling at, and the drinks into their holders before she coasted over to a parking spot. Still no directions, and she didn't want to get on the highway and need to turn around and go the other way.

“Shocking, right? At least she likes wizards as much as I do. Shows we're still actually related. If she didn't enjoy a good wizard stroking his beard while pondering something vast and unknowing I'd be forced to disown her entirely to save myself from the shame.”

“Where's she at, though? Where's Dave at?” you ask, probing for answers. Jade has fished out a few french fries and popped them in her mouth to munch at, but she soon leaned to take her phone out as well, ready to type up the address for some proper directions. “And would she be alright with us just... dropping in? Like. As soon as we can get there? I don't want to leave him all on his own any longer than we have to.”

“Well, he's not alone I assume. Roxy does live there. She has a precious little cat too, I wonder how he gets on wi-”

“Rose. Address. ...Uh. Please,” you hurriedly add. Adrenaline was starting up in your bloodstream again, enough that you wondered if you'd been leeching it from the coke and coffee by osmosis, caffeine leaking into the air somehow like a delicious junky miasma.

“Right, right,” she said with a clearing of her throat. She paused once more and turned away from the phone to take a sip of whatever was in her mug from earlier, the slurping noise soft but too loud in your ears.

“I've not been able to hold of her, as I said, so there's a chance you may not even be able to get inside. But, perhaps, Dave will be able to respond to you in some way if you get close enough and try reaching out.”

“A hallway séance will make us so popular with whatever neighbors she has,” you can't help but mutter. The complaints died when Rose started to read off numbers and words for directions which you dutifully repeated aloud, giving Jade enough time to type in everything and get an idea of their plotted course.

“Well. It's not the moon but it'll take a little bit to get over there,” said Jade. “It seems to be a crowded area, parking might be kind of iffy too. I can just.. drop you off and we can get close as possible, or I'll put on my hazards for a bit.”

“It's not a locked down area,” Rose offered as a bit of hope. “You should, theoretically, be able to get right up to the outside of her door at the very least. I hope you can get her to answer, though, and get Dave back. Or at least verify Dave is there or not. If he's not, I'll likely need to do a bit of writing, see if this can develop into a full case study of ghosts interfering wi-”

“Hold off the thesis till we get him back, Rose,” Jade said as she got the engine purring again and backed up, already knowing the route to take to make it the quickest route possible. “We could probably ask him to do all kinds of experiments specifically to your qualifications once he's safe and sound again so we can be sure this doesn't happen again.”

Experiments. That's right. You were already going to be talking to him about what you'd found out of his history, his family, his death. ...Perhaps holding off on that for a little while would be the better idea. The thought made you feel funny in your stomach and drew your attention away from what Rose was saying in your ear. Was that the better option, or the worst one? Which was cruel? Potentially sending Dave away from something that made him happy the second he got it back, with the idea being he'd be going to the light and paradise of some kind? Or hiding all of that information and the option as long as possible to let him stay around, denying him an afterlife?

This wasn't an afterlife at all, this world. It was some awkward limbo, stress and exhaustion and threats and being completely alone aside from those who could see him or hear him and wanted to know more. In the end it should be Dave's decision.

...Yet that didn't feel better either, with how attached you'd grown. What was even the long term goal here? Stay with your ghost boyfriend till you got old and died, and hoped you could join him or both cross over or whatever? Would joining him even be a good idea? Then YOU'D be trapped forever too! And another thing, wh-

“John, you might want to set your phone down, Rose already ended the call,” you heard from your left, just loud enough to catch your attention before the sounds of the radio filled your ears, filtering into reality along with the sound of the tires on the highway rolling along at a steady pace. Sure enough, the phone's screen had gone black, though how long ago it had happened you couldn't be sure. It was kind of impossible to track getting lost in your own thoughts for a reason.

“Yeah,” you murmur, setting the phone on your lap instead as if coming out of a nap daze, looking around to orient yourself again. It was really happening. If all went well, Dave would be not only found but brought home. Safe and home again with you, just like before. Just like always. You almost didn't want to let yourself get excited in case something else happened by surprise and ruined it.

“Don't worry, John. I'm pretty sure traffic'll be on our side for this,” Jade said, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. “But hey, give me a hand. Or, actually no, loan me a hand for a second for real and fish me out a nugget.”

“We didn't eat super long ago,” you said, fishing out the chicken and a cup of sweet and sour sauce, cracking it open carefully and giving it a dunk. Jade took the offer while leaning cautiously in her seat, letting you guide the food to her lips.

“Chicken nuggets are serious business, John, and wait for no man,” she said. “Besides, what if we need to muscle and use brute force to get Dave back?” she asked after giving a few chews and swallowing. “I'd definitely need protein for that!”

“You've got a point,” you agreed, dunking a second nugget and munching on it yourself, at peace with your temporary role of food deliverer. “I just hope this goes smoothly.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Things were not going smoothly at all. When you'd arrived at the destination, it had been to a dark apartment and no answer at the door when you knocked. Though you heard the sound of a cat inside, meowing a few times plaintively in response to your knocks, there were no sounds of footsteps or thumps of someone hiding, no glow of a telltale laptop screen from behind the blinds that otherwise obscured your view from the street. It had been a struggle to heft yourself up the stairs, you felt the burn under your arms and down your back and against your palms, and yet there seemed to be no payoff.

Jade wasn't taking silence for an answer, and she thumped the door solidly with the side of her fist a few times. Perhaps she was taking the brute force comment more seriously than you'd believed at first.

“Roxy?” she called. “Roxy, Rose sent us. We're friends of hers, we're here to ask a few questions and collect something that belongs to us!”

You hissed softly. “Jade you sound like a mobster, and we don't own Dave, that's weird!”

“Well, what the fuck do you want me to say?”

“Something that doesn't make it sound like we turned up to break her kneecaps for drugs!” you said, urgency clear as you looked around to the other doors. “We already look out of place as it is, what if someone calls the cops?”

Jade rolled her eyes and tried knocking again, making the cat meow once more. “Well, then we can tell the police the exact same thing we're telling her. We're here to ask questions about if she's seen your pendant, and if so, to give it back. ...Can you tell if Dave's here?” she asked suddenly.

“OH. Oh, right! Rose said I might be able to,” you realized, staring at the door before closing your eyes and trying to focus. You treated it like when you were trying to help Dave go to the pendant before, like when you were trying to get better at seeing him, when you were learning to be patient when he was still just brief flickers and obnoxious noises just out of hearing. Tried to imagine his face, so much clearer now that you'd seen what he looked like in the flesh, and since you'd met Bro. Dave felt so much more real now.

“...Mmmm maybe she's not home after all,” Jade said softly, concerned. “Even if he's not here, we'd need to be able to ask her about if she'd been in contact with the pendant or anything. It's the only clue we've got so far for him.”

You didn't think you felt anything. There was no instant tug, no reach, no call of your name or flicker at the edge of your mind. Nothing. Nothing tangible enough to count as interaction at least, and yet you couldn't shake the feeling that something was here. Whether it was instinct or just the strong pangs of desperation steering those feelings, you didn't want to risk it. Giving yourself no time to second guess the feeling, you walked closer to the door before hammering on it with your own fist several times, hard enough that your joints ached and the door seemed to jump a little on its hinges.

If you'd been able to kick safely, you might have even kicked at it.

“Roxy. Roxy if you're home, open the door!” you cried. “OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR, ROXY, THIS IS AN EMERGENCY AND I'LL EXPLAIN LATER.”

“Oh yeah, look at you go, now you're into it,” Jade said delightedly, leaving you to your knocking till your hand hurt enough that you stopped to avoid adding another broken bone to your stack of problems. Those chicken nuggets had done a world of good! She was so proud as she took her phone out, preparing to call Rose to see if she had any ideas on what to do. Or, perhaps, where a spare key of some kind might be. Did hiding apartment keys even work if everyone lived in the same building but different parts? If so, every inch of the front lawn must be thick with false rocks full of different keys.

“I don't know how to explain it, Jade, but we need to get in there. We can't go home even if she's not here.”

“Am I hearing you right, Mr. I Don't Want To Sound Like We're Here To Kneecap Someone himself?”

You sulked and looked over your shoulder at her.

“Look. Kicking in a door is different from threatening someone,” you reasoned. “I'm sure Roxy is great and I wish her many happy days, and will be more than happy to pay for the door replacement if it comes to that, but I'm not leaving till we get inside.”

The door opened a crack before you even realized anyone was approaching it from the inside, but it wasn't a face that greeted you. Instead it was a baseball bat, pointed as if signaling a home run was imminent and your head would be the ball. The woman on the other end was in her pajamas, hair mussed, fatigue clear. She looked stressed, she looked a bit scared, and most of all she looked a hell of a lot like Rose.

“....Roxy?” you asked cautiously, lowering your hands to hold your ground and keep your balance. Startled? You? Pssh.

“Who's askin'?”

“Uh. ….Us? Thought that was kinda obvious,” Jade said, lowering her phone. Success! Person located! “There's no way you're not Roxy, you look exactly like Rose! LaLonde genetics do not disappoint.”

Roxy makes a face, confused, uncertain if she should be flattered by a compliment or skeeved out. It was not the right time of night for this, maybe if she'd gotten a full night's sleep and gotten rid of that... that thing that was lurking in the salt ring in her kitchen.

“Wait. Rose?” she said, realization lighting her eyes. The bat remains raised threateningly, but her grip looks less certain now as she hesitated, assessing the situation best she could on the fly.

“Yes, Rose told us to come, you can call her to verify if you want! She's been unable to call you,” you hurriedly reply.

“My phone's toast, no wonder she couldn't reach me. I've been havin' a bitch of a day. A week, even,” Roxy said with a shake of her head, finally slowly beginning to lower the tip of the bat to the ground. “But, what, she send her.... friends?” she said, guessing as Jade nodded a bit, “to check up on me just 'cause I couldn't get online for a night? Overkill.”

“Why couldn't you get online?” you asked.

“Laptop was in a state when I got home from work and stuff finally, the battery was all bloated out and lookin' like it was fit to explode any time,” she grimaced. Your heart lifted once more, the trail warm, but Roxy didn't miss the look you tried to give her apartment over her shoulder or the hungry hopeful look in your eye. “So. Why're you here? Spill, I wanna go back to bed.”

“We're here abo-”

“Can we come in to talk?” Jade intervened suddenly, moving forward to gesture and make friendly. “He's still recovering, and on top of it the matter's a little private and we already made enough of a scene trying to get you to the door.”

“I'm blamin' ya'll if the cops turn up, that was a hell of a racket,” she groused, flipping the light switch inside the door on and stepping back to allow entrance to the two of you. “Thought I was getting mobbed by Yakuza or something.”

You sigh and look at Jade before making your way into the living room, looking around more directly for any hint of Dave. Roxy beckons you to the sofa, offering you the space as she sat in another spot and crossed her legs, setting the bag entirely on the ground. Jade stayed on her feet, idly looking around as well. While she wasn't as sensitive as you were to the presence of Dave, she definitely knew what the pendant looked like and hoped she'd spot some kind of trace of it. You sat your crutches down on the ground and leaned forward, searching for the sweet spot of comfort for your body to rest in while hurriedly trying to think of something normal to say.

Yes hello we're here to take back my ghost boyfriend you accidentally might have kidnapped, he lives in a pretty pendant I was given by Jade here, and we got separated after he possessed my body and we got into a car wreck! Please don't call the cops! We are perfectly normal and not crazy robbers at all, promise!

This was a disaster and nothing had even happened yet.

“Hah!” Wow, that laugh was way too loud wasn't it, more bark than giggle. Shit. Be cool, be cool! “We were.. uh. Well. I mean, we were just.”

Roxy was staring now, eyes narrowing a bit at your baffling display. You stopped, took a breath, and slowly exhaled.

“Have you gotten any new jewelry recently?” you finally asked, starting to gesture with your hands. “About yea big, green toned?”

She flinched subtly and took a breath, but didn't immediately say anything. Instead, her eyes flickered up and past you before focusing on your face.

“Green toned?”

“Yeah, it's a rock that looks kind of like jade does, and it's set into a pendant? Has whorls of lines on it..?” you asked hopefully. “I got into an accident recently, and I haven't seen it since.”

Roxy wet her lips, fingers curling loosely into fists as she seemed to think something over. Finally, she nodded a bit.

“Yeah. I might have something like that. Found it not too long ago. Was going with a co-worker to a quick on-site call for a client we deal with, they'd gotten some new computers they wanted set up and linked to the rest of their system in a new way,” she said, then shook her head briefly to focus herself. “Their car made some funny noises, we pulled over so they could check under the hood, I got out to stretch my legs. Saw somethin' shiny. ...Took it home.”

You tried to stand for a brief stupid moment, lurched, fell back, and then threw yourself Roxy's direction along the sofa faster than you thought you could move. Your leg thumped downward, hard, and bounced the cast off the ground with a solid thump that ached through your nerves like sick lightning. It took your breath away, forcing you to lower your head despite the frantic lunge, gritting your teeth hard enough your jaw ached. Jade, bless her, ignored your pained reaction in favor of lunging as well.

“Where is it! The pendant I mean, you still have it right? Is it here? Is it damaged?”

Roxy, uncomfortable with two strangers lunging at her in her own living room in such quick succession picked her bat back up and sidestepped around Jade to feel less cornered. She glanced towards a darkened doorway before looking back to the pair of you.

“You're gonna think I'm a nut. No, it's not damaged I don't think but it's. ..Something's weird with it.”

“Weird how?” Jade asked, following to Roxy's new location without hesitation. She was never the best at picking up things like personal space, but in cases like this it was all for the best. You started to recover from the dizzyingly painful jolt, running a hand through your hair.

“It's. ...I don't know, okay! All I know is weird shit's been happenin' since I brought that thing home, and I think it might be haunted or some shit,” she hurriedly said, clenching her eyes shut to avoid your gaze. She tightened her grip on the baseball bat, lifting it to rest against her own shoulder and tap there a few times. “Don't laugh, alright?”

“I mean. Funny story,” Jade said, smile quirking to life on one side of her mouth.

“It's haunted,” you say, getting up on your crutches and wobbling before stabilizing yourself. “It's haunted by someone very important to me, and we need him back safe and sound. His name is Dave, please, where is he?”

“...Shit, are you two like Rose then? Ghost talking and stuff?”

“Yes,” Jade said. “Please, though, it's terribly important that we get him back as soon as possible to ensure everything is okay. Where is he?”

Roxy fiddled with the bat again, and slowly looked over her shoulder to the dark doorway of her kitchen once more. “Uhm. ...It's in the kitchen. Under the colander, with the salt and stuff. Rose said salt stops ghosts or something before so I just. ...You're sure it's not something evil and bad?”

Jade was already on the case again, flicking on the light and rustling the colander off of the much missed necklace. “It's the right one!” she cried. You almost felt bad for Roxy's neighbors at this point, you hoped she didn't get in trouble with the management because of you and Jade being so loud. Hurrying quick as you could, you made it into the kitchen right as she lifted the pendant up on display for you.

“DAVE. Dave, shit, you were here for real. It's okay now, we're here. Are you okay? Nothing went wrong, right?” you asked, leaning more of your weight to one crutch so you could reach out for the pendant, holding it tightly in your hand as if it would disappear if the proper pressure wasn't maintained on its entire surface.

There was no response, no flicker of light.

“.....Dave?” you asked, voice an anxious chuckle. You jiggled the pendant a bit, rubbed it with your thumb and tried to focus in on it over the hammering heartbeat in your ears from the amount of adrenaline rushing through your bloodstream right then. “Come out come out wherever you are.”

Roxy remained cautiously outside of the kitchen, but stood there watching with the same confused expression from earlier. She stooped down to stroke the head of a dark cat who had slithered around her ankles, finally unphased enough by the strange human guests now that it was safe to wander among them. When Roxy straightened up next, the cat was in her arms and being pressed over her shoulder, his sturdy hind limbs hanging limp as a doll.

“Is it broken? Or did that Dave guy like. Leave my house.”

“No, no, it doesn't look broken,” you promised, wetting your lips reflexively. “Uh. ...Uhh... shit. Okay. When did you last see activity in your house? He loves knocking things off shelves and rattling papers and books and anything he can vibrate or flip around easily.”

“Earlier I think, I don't believe for a second my laptop fucked up on its own or because of my cat here. Battery all puffed out and fucked, entire setup I was working with toast. Thank fuck for the cloud or my project'd prolly be long gone too.”

“So he was just active earlier at some point... nothing else?”

“There was a red light.. before I shoved it in there,” explained Roxy, jiggling Mutini on her shoulder briefly. “I'd picked it up and it went all red and bright and intense, but I think it's been quiet since then. I kinda went in to try sleeping, till you two turned up.”

The pendant didn't feel warm, and you saw no light, but there was no denying that sense that Dave was there. Salt was apparently more scary than you'd realized, if it had been able to block even your feelings of him so intensely till lifted out of it. You rubbed at the pendant again with your thumb before carefully bringing it closer to your face, pressing your lips to it instinctively. A kiss hello? A kiss as a welcome back? It felt important, offering a direct link like that, a reaching out as physical as you were trying to do mentally with your energy.

Maybe he was just very tired, the things Roxy was describing must have been absolutely exhausting for the poor spirit, let alone being trapped in such a confining way for a while.

“...Any luck?” Jade asked softly. “Is he still in there?”

“He is, I can feel it, but uh. ..No. No, not yet,” you admitted. Not everything was instant in life, but fuck did you wish it was.

“Maybe we should go home, then, and see about waking Dave up,” Jade offered quietly. “Let Roxy sleep, get your leg propped up, get Dave back somewhere familiar. Maybe if you literally sleep on it it'll help.”

You looked uncertain, but Jade's sincere tone made you reconsider your reservations and nod, tucking Dave carefully into your pocket and folding the top edge down to ensure there was no slipping loose and dropping by accident. There would be no more leaving Dave behind, accident or none.

Mutini wiggled on Roxy's shoulder and trilled till she put him down to avoid catching the business end of his busy claws, and made a beeline over to your crutches, rubbing against them fondly.

“He's been on edge for a while,” Roxy said. “...I was worried he was getting sick or something lately, but I think that thing was spooking him. I guess he knows you're taking it away now?”

“Him. His name is Dave,” you say, adjusting your grip on the grips of your crutches and bow your head to her. “I'm sorry for all this, Roxy, really I am. For the laptop and everything else he must have done, for scaring your cat, for waking you up and making such a ruckus. I'm really sorry.”

“Oh! No, no it's okay,” she said. It wasn't, but you understood what Roxy was trying to get across, more or less. “I mean. It's a- he. He's a ghost, right? Must be confusing and stuff.”

“You've got no idea,” you sigh.

Jade touched your shoulder, firm and steadying and wonderfully solid. Right. You needed to focus on getting back to the parking spot and getting home and up to bed.

“Let's go, John.”

“We'll be in contact, if that's okay,” you added as you turned. “Through Rose. Try to get hold of her when you can, let her know how you're doing. We'll let her know you're okay when we get home though,” you promised.

You and Jade left Roxy in her living room with an affectionate cat and her baseball bat, locking the door behind you with the intention of somehow going back to bed if at all possible. Jade drove silently, following the more familiar highway paths once she'd gotten back on track, the radio low and gentle in the background. You mulled your time over with your hand in your pocket, fingers curled tightly around the pendant, willing and willing with all of your might that you'd feel Dave's push or hear his voice again.

He was there. He was definitely there, the feeling was staying with you the entire drive. There, but maybe sleeping. Still dead but not entirely gone.

Bed was a welcome reprieve after such a long day of wandering around and being upright, Jade retiring to the couch after making sure you were set up and comfortable. Your hands were bruised and painful, as were the spaces beneath your arms and along your shoulders and neck. Your leg was throbbing even through some painkiller and being propped up, and you were tired enough to not fucking care about brushing your teeth or dealing with changing clothes. The pants came off and that was the best you were going to get done. The pendant was placed on a new cord, firm and comfortable on your neck when you put it into place, tucking the stone portion beneath your shirt so you could feel it on your skin as you went to sleep.

You gave in to unconsciousness hoping against hope that you wouldn't be alone in your dreams that night.

#Homestuck #JohnDave #John Egbert #Jade Harley #Roxy LaLonde #my fic

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katie-dub · 7 years

Text

Never Forget You

Emma Swan needs a break - and to stop crashing into a mysterious stranger who she just can’t get out of her head. Unfortunately the universe has other plans.

Happy birthday @phiralovesloki! I’m sure you have all heard of this fabulous lady, but she is the sweetest. Not only does she write awesome fics, but also she’s massively supportive - her tireless cheerleading of The Masks We Wear has kept me writing though many a bad time. And she is even amazing enough to devote her time to running the @captainswanbigbang like a champion, and to step in and help with betaing Heathens for @mahstatins when I was struggling with Life Stuff.

Basically, Phira, Mothy, my dear, have a fantastic birthday and enjoy a little *cough* nearly 9k *cough* trope mash up for your special day.

Huge thanks to @sambethe @mahstatins and @killiancygnus for beta reading this for me.

AO3

Emma Swan is many things: sheriff, orphan, loving mother, junk food aficionado and - as of two minutes ago - killer.

Well, potentially.

She leaps out of her car to see what has become of the man she just hit with her car. He’s sitting on the curb, clutching at his ribs. He looks up as she approaches and fuck, he’s gorgeous, all messy dark hair, piercing blue eyes and chiseled jaw.

“Hey beautiful,” he wheezes out, trying to throw a winning smile her way. His honeyed voice and British accent are as beautiful as he is. “You know, there are better ways to get a man’s attention than attempted murder.”

Her automatic response is to roll her eyes at the blatant flirting. She ignores the charm and drops down beside him with concern. “Shit, I’m so sorry. Are you OK? Do you need a doctor?”

“You just knocked the wind out of my sails, love. I’ll be fine.”

She cocks an eyebrow in disbelief at his blasé attitude. He chuckles at her and waves his prosthetic at her. “I’ve had worse, believe me. Although, should you want to kiss it better…” He trails off, licking his lips suggestively.

“Seriously? Does that sort of thing ever work for you?”

“A devilishly handsome face, exotic accent and charming personality can work wonders.”

“And so modest too.” Emma can’t quite decide if this guy is for real, enjoying his company in spite of herself.

“All part of my charm.”

“Right.” Emma checks her watch, she has to go if she’s going to have time to grab a mocha before work. She looks back at the stranger. He certainly looks fine, his flirting muscles are definitely completely functional and he did say that he’s fine. “I’ve got to go, if you’re sure you’re OK?”

He nods and waves his hand at her to leave. It doesn’t feel quite right leaving the man she just ran over sitting on the side of the road, but he did say he was OK, so with a nod of thanks she jumps back into her car.

She’s so caffeine-deprived that the first sip of her cinnamon-topped mocha tastes like ambrosia - an actual gift from the gods.

She breathes a deep sigh of relief and lets the chocolatey goodness wash away her woes. Nearly killing a man was pre-coffee Emma, practically a whole different person. Post-coffee Emma can forget all about it and look forward to a day of superior sheriffing.

It’s with this thought in mind that she strides to the door, happy and confident that today will be a good day after all.

So of course she’s startled by someone shoving hard on the door just as she gets to it. She takes a step back, jerking her drink out of range of the fast-approaching obstacle. She manages to avoid getting hit in the face, and while that’s definitely a win, her mocha ended up all over the unsuspecting stranger’s hand in the process. Her scalding hot mocha. Shit shit shit.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Emma shrieks in distress, grabs a stack of napkins she spots at a nearby table and thrusts them towards him. “You’ll need to run that under cold water so that you’ll keep some of your skin.”

“It’ll be fine, love,” a familiar voice wheezes. Emma freezes. No. It can’t be the guy she hit with her car. It just can’t. She looks up into the same blue eyes from earlier. Right, it’s going to be that kind of day.

He grins at her and takes the proffered napkins. “Throwing a drink over someone is certainly an improvement on your last flirting tactic, but next time you should try simply throwing yourself at the object of your desire.”

The sentiment is punctuated with a poorly formed wink. She smirks in spite of herself and quirks a brow at him. “If you think that you’re the object of my desire, buddy, you’re going to be seriously disappointed.”

“If what you’re telling me is that you aren’t trying to get my attention, I find that hard to believe.”

Emma shakes her head at the cockiness of a man whose hand is covered in boiling liquid yet stops to flirt. Fuck. His hand is covered in boiling liquid! “Think what you want, but you really should see to your hand.”

“It’s really alright, love. Not a whole lot of feeling in it anyway.” Emma frowns and looks down and is reminded that it’s a prosthetic.

She winces, feeling like that’s something she should’ve remembered. “I’m sorry anyway, can I buy you a drink to apologise for this and the other thing?”

“Hitting me with your car you mean?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “I knew this was all a ploy to get me on a date.”

“It’s not a date, it’s coffee. I need a new one and buying yours is the least I can do.”

She starts walking back to the counter wearily. “If I can have the pleasure of your company, we can call it whatever you want.” He’s close to her and she feels his words murmured into her ear. She shivers slightly, then curses her body’s involuntary reaction to the stranger.

“Oh no -” she turns to glare at him “- I’m just buying the coffee, then I have to get to work.”

“Whatever you say,” he says with a smirk. She ignores him and the strange attraction she has to him as she orders and pays for their coffee. She doesn’t exactly mean to be rude. She just wants to be clear that this is an apology and nothing else, so that he doesn’t get the wrong idea. It’s not that she needs reminding of that too, because his handsome face and ridiculous flirting does absolutely nothing for her. God, she couldn’t even believe her own lies.

He surprises her by following her lead: he doesn’t say a word until the barista hands her her coffee and she’s heading out the door. “Next time don’t feel you need to injure me to get my attention, love!” he calls after her. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

It’s a surprisingly busy day for Emma. Her brother and deputy, David, is busy at the hospital with his wife who’s gone into labour, and while things are usually a bit slow with him there, there’s just too much work for one person.

That’s how it gets to 3pm before she’s had any lunch. She doesn’t actually feel all that hungry, but she can hear Mary Margaret’s voice in her head tutting about “proper nutrition” and she could use a break.

She’s strolling down the main street when she notices the new florist that’s just opened. On a whim she decides to pick up some flowers for Mary Margaret and heads inside.

She’s staring at the dizzying array of choice when she’s startled by a familiar voice behind her. “Need any help, love?”

She whirls around and her mouth drops open at the sight of scruffy hair and piercing blue eyes. “You’re a stalker!” she exclaims and he quirks his brow at her in amusement.

“You came into my shop.” He steps closer. “And it’s you who molested me on our last two meetings.”

Emma blushes at the memory. “I said I was sorry! And I got you that coffee…”

“I’m only teasing. You can make attempts on my life anytime.” Emma narrows her eyes at his words, but he barrels on, suddenly all business, before she can speak. “Now I’m assuming that you aren’t here just to see my devilishly handsome face, so what are you looking for?”

“My sister-in-law is having her first baby, so I wanted to get her some flowers.”

“Do you know what she likes?”

“Pretty ones?” Killian chuckles and Emma shrugs. “Sorry, I don’t know anything about flowers.”

“No problem, love, that’s my job. Do you know what she’s having?”

“A baby..?”

“We’ll steer clear of pinks and blues then?” Emma nods and the florist rubs his chin thoughtfully. “What’s her style? And how much do you want to pay?”

“40 bucks?” Killian nods approvingly. Emma squints, picturing the Nolans’ loft. “Her things are kind of vintage and cutesy. Although she’s kind of feisty, like if Snow White were a bad ass bandit?”

“I can work with that. Do you want me to talk you through it or do you want to trust me to work my magic?”

“Knock yourself out.” She half expects him to make a comment about earlier, but he contents himself with a meaningful look and sets to work.

She finds herself mesmerised as he twirls about gathering up flowers and leaves and all forms of decorative things to create Mary Margaret’s bouquet. She half wonders if he actually can wield magic - she’s sure that she couldn’t create anything half as beautiful with twice the time and 6 extra hands. And that’s before she considers the hypnotic effect his graceful dance has on her. She never would’ve considered flower arranging a turn on, but damn if her insides aren’t melting at the sight. It’s definitely some form of witchcraft. In no time at all, he’s completed a relaxed, stylish arrangement of white flowers and forest foliage. He carefully wrapped it into a special bag with water inside to keep it fresh and that bag is inside a cute but sturdy brown paper bag with lace handles. “What do you think, lass?” He asks, presenting it to her and watching her reaction carefully. “A nice gender-neutral bouquet for your feisty fairytale friend?” “It’s perfect -” she falters, realising that she hasn’t yet found out his name. “Killian,” he supplies, “it must be because I had such a stunning muse.” He grins at her and yep, she has totally turned to goo, like some starry-eyed teenager who doesn’t know better. Pull yourself together, she chides herself.

“Yeah, well, it’s great.” She brushes off the compliment and hands over her credit card. She makes a point of focusing on her card to avoid embarrassing herself further by looking at his pretty face.

“Thanks, Swan.” She looks up startled by his use of her name. She’s almost flustered enough to ask how he could possibly know that, when she remembers it’s printed on her card.

Deciding that she can’t trust herself to talk - or act - normally around this man, she bites her lip and keeps quiet as she signs her name and he hands her the receipt.

She mumbles her thanks and heads for the door. She thinks she’s got away without further flirting, but he calls out as she goes.

“Goodbye, Swan.” And because she’s a glutton for punishment, she turns back to him. “Feel free to stop by to make use of my services anytime.” He licks his lips and dammit if she hasn’t seen porn that’s had less of an effect on her.

She blushes hard. “I might do. You’re very good at handling flowers.” She winces at her poor word choice. She’d been aiming for breezy, but that was anything but.

“Oh I assure you, they’re not the only thing I’m good at handling.”

She’s glad he’s still behind the counter. It means she can tell herself that he is far enough away to not notice the lust in her eyes. Of course, that also means she can’t tell if their little exchange has left him feeling as hard up as she is.

Oh God, she groans internally, unable to stop herself from wondering if he’s stayed behind the counter so that she can’t see how hard to handle he’s found their encounter. She hopes he has, she wants to take a look.

“Please, you couldn’t handle it.” The flirtatious words are out of her mouth before she can even think. What are you doing? she shrieks at herself.

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it,” he returns and fuck she needs to get a grip. And not on him. She has a clear image in her mind’s eye of grabbing him and kissing until they’re both panting and flushed. And the way he’s looking at her, she almost thinks that he’s seeing it too.

But that’s not possible. It’s only soulmates who share dreams and fantasies, and all that fairytale bullshit isn’t for her. It’s for good people like David and Mary Margaret. (And frankly while the shared dream of being Snow White and Prince Charming was cute - if a little saccharine for Emma’s taste - the whole concept of sharing nightmares alongside dreams was downright terrifying.)

“Bye then,” she throws out, before she can do something dumb like act out her fantasy. She leaves the florist as fast as she can, ignoring his goodbye and trying not to think about why she’s so drawn to him.

She’s still trying not to think about Killian as she gets ready for her monthly night out later that day. Mary Margaret’s stepsister, Regina, had taken to Henry when he was still a baby and had kind of adopted him as her own, offering to take care of him at least one night a month so Emma could just be herself. To a young, single mother it was like a dream come true, and even now that she was 29 and Henry was 11, she cherished this time.

Normally when she was feeling keyed up like she was from meeting Killian she’d go to a bar in the next town over and find someone to help her scratch that itch. This month though, Zelena had been very insistent that they had to go to The Rabbit Hole. She couldn’t remember why, but thinks that a hot guitarist had been mentioned. As it was, she didn’t hook up with men in Storybrooke, she just couldn’t face the town gossip. It was hard to have any respect as sheriff when the folks you’re trying to arrest know that you like to wear red silk underwear when you’re out to get laid. (Or worse, they know first hand what your O face looks like.)

Still, a few shots and some girl talk with her friends would be fun. And with any luck the hot guitarist would help get Killian out of her fantasies.

The universe is laughing at me. That’s all Emma could think as Killian stepped up to the mic. If she wasn’t fuckstruck before, she definitely was now.

He uses his right hand to pick out the chords and strummed with the prosthetic on his left. His fingers are so nimble that she can’t help but imagine how they’d feel on her body, working her up. He locks eyes with her as soon as the thought crosses her mind. He bites his lip and tilts his head to study her. She’s left with the uncomfortable feeling that he knows exactly what she is thinking about. Overcome with embarrassment, she turns her attention to her friends.

“See? Isn’t he luscious?” Zelena whispers to them all, with a pointed wink at Emma.

“I’d eat him,” Ruby growls softly, dreamy-eyed.

“I’d get him to eat me,” Tink exclaims. “Look at how he uses that tongue, he definitely knows what he’s doing.”

And of course Emma pictures him between her thighs. It’s enough to make her blush deeply and study the floor, sure that he’ll somehow be able to read her dirty thoughts all over her face.

He starts playing Summer of ‘69 and as he does she has a vivid fantasy of them in the sexual position of the same name. It’s enough to make her gasp and her head snaps up to look at him. He’s looking straight at her, eyebrows raised in what looks like a challenge and he deliberately licks his lips.

What is she saying? The only way that could have been deliberate would be that he knew what she’d just seen. And the only way for him to know that would be…

“Bathroom,” she announces, abruptly leaping to her feet and running for the facilities. She thinks she hears Zelena calling something like “don’t worry, Emma, we’re all that wet!” but she can’t be sure - and really doesn’t want to be.

She hides in the bathroom for long enough to calm her impending panic attack. While going home is tempting, she decides that she couldn’t cope with all the jokes about taking care of herself she’d face if she did. Besides, a stiff drink would really help right now. In fact she may need several, she’d quite like a dreamless sleep. Just because her imagination sucks right now, she’s not at all concerned that she might be sharing wet dreams with a certain handsome, guitar-playing, British florist.

She gives herself a hard look in the mirror. Stop this bullshit, you’re not the soulmate type, you’re just horny and he’s hot. Perhaps not the best pep talk, but it did the job.

She orders a round of tequila then goes back to her friends with a tray of shots.

It’s much later and she’s much drunker when she hears his voice in her ear. “Been thinking about me, Swan?” She can’t help the sudden vision she has of being on her knees before him, licking and sucking as he moans. She realises that he’s actually moaned out loud into her ear and she automatically jumps away from him.

Deciding that she really needs to regain her cool, she retorts, “in your dreams.” She tries to lean nonchalantly against the bar, but she’s lost all coordination and misses, her elbow slipping and causing her to stumble.

Killian catches her and murmurs, “oh no, Swan, in yours.”

She shoves him backwards and fixes him with her best glare. “Whatever,” she mutters.

“You’re something of an open book to me.” As he says it, he reaches up to scratch behind his ear and subconsciously she moves to push her hair behind her own ears when she sees it: His soul mark. The one right below his right ear that is a perfect match for the one she sports.

She stills her hands in shock but whimpers, “fuck no.” She half-knew already, but she really didn’t want actual proof.

“Everything OK, love?”

“You’re my fucking soulmate?” she blurts out.

“I thought that was obvious already? Let me tell you, you can get on your knees for me anytime you like…” His eyes are shining with pure sin and she’s equally aroused, humiliated, and anxious at the unavoidable truth.

“This is bullshit,” Emma declares, feeling furious at the world for this strange twist of fate. “My life isn’t some rom com and nobody chooses who I fuck but me.” Through the haze of alcohol she notices how crestfallen he looks. She ignores it. She’s not going to have sex with someone just because fate tells her to. It’s ridiculous to even entertain the thought.

She turns to leave and Killian grabs her arm. “Will you let me walk you home?” Her eyes dart down to where he’s holding her arm. He instantly drops it. “I don’t mean anything by it. You’re just quite intoxicated…”

“That’s none of your concern, Killian. Just forget about this whole -” she can’t even say the word soulmates, just gestures wildly “- thing. I don’t do relationships. Stay out of my dreams and don’t even think about playing the hero and following me.”

As she stalks off, she hears him softly reply, “as you wish.”

***

Emma wakes up to the sight of her Hot Roommate™ (as Ruby insists on calling Killian) standing over her looking guilty.

“Sorry, Swan, I didn’t mean to wake you, you looked cold so I was just…” He gestures to the blanket that’s now draped over her.

“Oh, that’s OK.” She sits up and rubs her neck. How long was she asleep for that it now hurts so much? “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep on the couch. But, thanks for this.”

Killian rubs behind his ear awkwardly, gives her a little nod and strides towards his bedroom.

She has a vague memory of her dream, meeting Killian over and over again, eventually learning he was her soulmate… with all that entailed. She blushes at the thought of the racier parts of the soulmate deal. She may need to get laid. And while she’s thinking about it, she makes a mental note to ban all rom coms from her next movie night with Mary Margaret. She doesn’t care how pregnant and hormonal the woman is, Emma needs to protect her subconscious from the onslaught of Hollywood meet-cutes.

She sits up, stretches lazily and reaches for her phone.

Ruby’s sent her a photo of herself dressed to kill in a little black dress to their group chat with the caption “hot af, amirite?” Zelena’s replied with the winking kiss emoji. Tink offered up heart eyes. Mary Margaret said “I’d do you… and not just because the hormones are making me horny.”

Emma laughs uneasily, trying to scrub the information from her brain. Something about jokes like that from Mary Margaret always made her feel uncomfortable - like she’d imagine it’d be to hear your mom make sex jokes.

“What’s everyone else wearing? You know I’m too pregnant for girls’ night, so I have to live vicariously through your pics.”

Oh God, girls’ night. Emma checks the time - she’s only got half an hour to get ready.

She speeds through her routine and manages to stroll back into the living room exactly 29 minutes later with only her shoes to pull on. Killian’s hovering near their front door, with his back to her. Her eyes slide over his form - his fitted jeans do such wonders for his ass that it feels rude not to check him out. (Just because she has a policy against dating, fucking, or getting romantically involved with a roommate in anyway doesn’t mean she can’t appreciate the goods. She knows Ruby calls him Hot Roommate™ for good reason.)

As if he feels her eyes on him, he turns around, looking dejected. His eyes light up as soon as he sees her.

“Swan! You are looking stunning this evening. What terrible miscreant are you sending back to jail tonight?”

“This isn’t for a perp, I am going out with friends.” She feels awkward under his appreciative gaze. “What about you, dressed up all fancy, got a hot date?”

His grin twists into a frown. He opens his mouth to speak, but sighs instead, shaking his head.

“I did, but it seems that she has reunited with her ex and has decided it would be bad form to allow another man to take her to dinner.” His hand flies to the back of his neck and Emma feels sorry for him.

“You should come out with us.” Killian looks up in surprise, with a tiny hint of delight in his eye. “Come on, you’re all ready to go out, we can find you your next hot date.”

“I don’t want to intrude -” he blusters, sounding terribly British in a way that makes Emma think of Hugh Grant. A loud knock on the door interrupts him before he can say anymore.

Emma opens it and Ruby, Tink and Zelena burst into the apartment. She slings her arms over her Ruby’s shoulders and looks at Killian mischievously. “Ladies, Killian here has been stood up, don’t you think he should join us and find himself a better date for tomorrow night?”

Their eyes fill with glee, their smiles seductive and wicked. “Oh absolutely!” says Zelena.

“You’re far too hot to stay home and sulk,” continues Ruby. “We’ll find someone to keep you warm tonight, Killian.” She winks at him and Emma feels a flash of jealousy. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

It definitely wasn’t a good idea.

There’s a brunette at the bar running her hand along Killian’s arm while he murmurs in her ear. Emma imagines forcibly removing the woman’s perfectly manicured fingers and replacing them with her own. She really needs more rum.

“You know, if you want it to be you caressing your pretty roommate, you’ll have to go stake your claim on him.” Zelena practically purrs the words into Emma’s ear.

“I don’t - I wasn’t - it’s not like that.”

“Why not, Emma? If I had a genuine Hot Roommate™, you know I would ride them like a train.” Emma rolls her eyes at Ruby but doesn’t reply.

“You should definitely ride his pretty face. That man knows how to use his tongue.”

All the girls turn to stare at Tink. Emma’s jaw drops in shock.

“Are you telling me that you have hooked up with Killian and we are only just hearing about it?” Ruby damn near shrieks.

Tink just shrugs. “It was years ago. You know we’ve been friends for a long time. He lives with Emma because I introduced them when he moved to town, remember?”

“But you didn’t say that he’s your ex!” Emma’s glad that Ruby is saying all of this. She’s been struck dumb by the conversation and if she thought seeing Killian flirt was bad, this is a million times worse.

“He’s not my ex, we were more like friends with benefits back in college. We were barely even that to be honest. There was this bar, Neverland, we went to occasionally and we’d go home together after a night there. Or there was one memorable time when we just got down to it right in the bar -”

“We don’t need to hear about this,” Emma cuts Tink off. This is torture. (And not just because she’s got a bit of a thing for fucking in unconventional places and her very vivid imagination is showing her porn-worthy imagery right now.)

“Yes we do!” Ruby protests, but goes quiet at the look on Emma’s face.

Emma’s decides then and there to say screw it to her no roommates policy and go fuck that beautiful man. It would be a crime not to.

She stalks her way to the bar, ignoring the wolf whistles from her friends and the soundtrack of fantasy moans in her head.

Halfway there, Killian notices her. He catches her eye and smiles. His smile quickly turns sinful as he sees the look in her eyes and the sway of her hips. The brunette who previously had his attention looks pissed, but as he licks his lips Emma knows that girl is forgotten.

Tonight Killian is hers.

She falters at the thought. Can they have just one night? Will that be enough? Is it too much?

And as if her insecurities aren’t enough to ruin a night of fantastic fucking on their own, that’s when she sees him. Her last roommate - and almost fiancé - Walsh. The cheating asshole has a pretty girl on his arm and Emma’s paralysed by the sight.

She’s trying to calculate the best way to escape when he spots her and saunters over. She tries to smile and prepares for the worst.

“Emma! Long time no see!” She opens her mouth, but before she can say a word, there’s an arm sliding around her waist and a rum being pressed into her hand.

“Just play along, love,” Killian murmurs quietly into her ear. His voice sends shivers down her spine. She has to force herself not to imagine him whispering nasty things into her ear while they fuck in the corridor. “Here’s your drink, love,” he continues at a normal volume. “Who’s your friend?” He looks at Walsh expectantly.

“Thanks, darling, this is Walsh, my ex roommate.” Emma deliberately stresses the “ex” so that Killian’s in no doubt as to who she means. (She silently thanks whatever God will listen for that drunken night of sharing sob stories. Sure it was embarrassing at the time - they’d only been living together a few weeks - but it means that he knows exactly how much of a prick Walsh is.)

“Walsh?” Killian tilts his head as if trying to remember why the name sounds familiar. He has a twinkle in his eye that tells her that he knows exactly who she means. “Ah yes, he’s the one you found fucking his boss in your bed, before you could tell him whether you’d accepted his marriage proposal or not.” He looks at Walsh innocently. “Right?”

Emma tries to hide how stunned she is. She never would have dared to say the same, but she is thrilled that Killian did it for her.

“He did what?” Walsh’s date gives him a look of utter contempt and storms off.

“What did you do that for?” Walsh demands.

Killian shrugs, a falsely sheepish look on his face. “Sorry?” Walsh narrows his eyes but huffs and chases after his date.

“Was that OK?” Killian asks, pulling away from her. She snuggles back into him.

“You better stay close in case he comes back. I want it to be clear that I won the break up.”

“And no better way than by letting him think you upgraded to a roguishly handsome devil like me.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Let’s just dance, OK?”

She’s forgotten all about Walsh and is just enjoying dancing with Killian when he pulls her close. “Walsh is watching,” he explains in a whisper. She bites her lip and nods. No need to tell him that he really doesn’t need an excuse.

“Swan, was he always this creepy? He won’t stop staring.”

She doesn’t want to answer, knowing that the truth is that yes, he was. She was just too in love with the whole idea of their relationship to see it then.

Killian saves her from having to answer by murmuring, “why don’t we really give him a show?” She looks at him curiously, and he waggles his eyebrows and taps his lips playfully.

“Please, you couldn’t handle it.” She’s not sure where the words came from, she’s been wanting to kiss him all night (since they met really), but they feel right.

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it,” Killian shoots back. Emma never could resist a challenge, so she grabs his shirt -

And feels something cold and sticky spread across her back as someone crashes into her. She looks over her shoulder and sees the brunette that previously had Killian’s attentions giving her an evil grin. “Oh sorry, I didn’t see you there!” she says, not the least hint of remorse in her voice.

Emma wishes she could be one of those people with a perfect witty put down for every scenario. But she’s not and the moment’s passed with Killian and she feels awkward as hell.

She starts for the exit, ignoring Killian’s concerned “Swan?” and the strange green mist that swirls around her as she leaves.

***

She wakes up and struggles to shake off her strange dreams.

“Swan?” Her best friend Killian saunters into her bedroom, and stops short at the sight of her under the covers. “Aren’t you having a party, love? Not the best sign if the host can’t be bothered to get up… Unless the ‘party’ was all a trick to finally get me into bed after all these years?” His eyes wiggle suggestively and Emma rolls her eyes at him.

“Please, you couldn’t handle it.” As soon as she says that she remembers her dream. She blushes to think how she was about to pounce on Killian and kiss him. Admittedly, it’s not the first time she had a dream like that. (Although usually they got to the more enjoyable activities before she woke up, but this really it isn’t the time to think about such things.)

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

Emma stares at Killian, confused. How is he quoting lines from her dream? He blushes and scratches at his ear.

“Huh. You said that to me in my dream.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, you were a pirate… No wait, my roommate. Or maybe my soulmate?”

Killian smirks. “You’re dreaming that I’m your soulmate?”

“I’m having some kind of crazy inception style dreams within dreams. I think soulmates was the first level. I called bullshit on it.”

Killian throws back his head and laughs. “You called bullshit on your dream?”

“It wasn’t realistic!”

“That I might be the one for you, your soulmate, your ‘True Love’?” He looks deeply offended for all of 5 seconds before he cracks a wide grin.

“You forget that I have witnessed your Jack Sparrow impression and know it comes from a deep-seated love of all things pirate. You’ve dragged me to far-flung places in search for new additions to your collection of rare rum bottles. And I know that you speak ancient Greek.”

“You say that like you expect me to be ashamed of any of those things.”

“All I’m saying is that you can’t fool me with your leather jackets and your moves, I know that you’re a total nerd.”

“Nerds are cool, Swan.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Jones.”

“I don’t have to help you get your flat ready for your party, you know?”

Emma leaps out of bed and throws an arm around his shoulder. “Oh but you will, because I’m your very best friend and you love me.” She gives him her best puppy dog eyes and he shakes his head at her, laughing. She heads out of her room to start getting her apartment ready, not noticing the longing look Killian sends her way.

It’s much later and the party’s in full flow when Zelena announces that they should play spin the bottle. Emma’s buzzed, but not quite enough to not think that that’s a good idea.

“What are we, 12?” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. Zelena’s eyes flash with fury leaving Emma wondering if she had inadvertently interrupted a scheme for the redhead to hook up with someone.

“How about truth or dare?” Killian suggests and Zelena grins wickedly. Emma’s relieved that she’s pleased, her demeanour is so deranged when she’s in a bad mood that it’s mildly terrifying. (So much so that Killian jokingly calls her the Wicked Witch.)

Emma’s not sure how it turned into some kind of excuse for all their friends to make out, but it has. And most of them seem to be intent on making out with (or rather forcing other people to make out with) Killian. It’s not that she’s jealous, but it was all just so awkward.

She had enough of the Tink/Killian drama back when they were hooking up and who’s to say the nostalgic kiss wasn’t going to restart that train wreck? (She’ll never forget asking Killian how they could stand to be in the same room for long enough to fuck. Apparently constant fucking had replaced constant bickering as “she’s less irritating when her mouth is otherwise engaged”. She really wished she hadn’t asked and didn’t want a repeat of it all.) Ruby got overly handsy in a way that didn’t feel quite decent in a room full of people and if it made her uncomfortable, she’s sure Killian felt the same (however into it he seemed). And seeing him lock lips with David felt weirdly like watching him with her dad - it was just wrong.

Really she should have seen it coming. Of course someone would dare Killian to suck face with her. Everyone was always asking why they weren’t a couple anyway, meddling and trying to push them together. What she couldn’t have predicted is that he would forfeit the dare in favour of a truth. And of course Zelena shoots back with the obvious question: “you’ve kissed half the room already, why not Emma too?”

Emma runs out of the room before he can reply. She really doesn’t want to hear this. She’s already been humiliated enough.

“Swan! Swan! Bloody hell, stop. Emma!”

“Save it, Killian. I don’t want to know.” He gently catches her arm with the hook of his prosthetic.

“But I need to tell you. You think I wouldn’t kiss you because I don’t want you? It’s because I want you too much.” His eyes are so beautiful and desperate, searching her face for some sign of understanding. Emma feels her cheeks wet with tears, surely he can’t mean it like that? That the most secret wish of her heart has come true - he wants to be with her? “You’re worth more than some drunken kiss in front of all our friends. When I kiss you, Emma,” he steps closer, “and I will kiss you, it won’t be because of any stupid dare. It will be because you want me.”

Emma’s breathless with the sincerity of his words. She sways closer, but he steps back.

“Not today,” he says with a small smile and boops her nose. “Let’s wait until I know for sure that this isn’t just some rum-soaked spell, aye? Come, let’s get back to your party, I believe I need to wreak my revenge on the Wicked Witch. Now, what shall I dare her to do?”

He slings an arm over her shoulder and leads her back to her apartment. Neither one of them noticing the green mist that creeps down the corridor behind them.

***

“Jesus,” Zelena mutters, rolling her eyes. “What have they got against happiness? Surely it shouldn’t be so hard to get two people to kiss?” She grins as an idea comes to her. “Maybe I’ve been going wrong trying to give them romance. All I need is a setup where they have to kiss after all.”

She waves her hand and, unbeknownst to them, Emma Swan and Killian Jones’ lives change again.

***

A hammering on her front door interrupts Emma’s breakfast. She stomps to answer it, unimpressed by the distraction from her morning pancakes.

She opens the door to a pirate decked out in leather complete with a hook. She’d call him handsome, if he didn’t look so ridiculous.

“Emma Swan?”

Her eyes narrow in confusion. “Do I know you?”

“I’m Captain Hook, here to deliver a message of deepest affection from good Sir Walsh to his lady love, Swan.” Emma’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I’m a kissogram,” he explains with what Emma assumes is meant to be a wink, although it’s really a lopsided blink. His tongue runs along his lips, and he moves forward.

Emma moves on pure instinct, kneeing the man in the groin and shoving him back with one hand. He staggers backwards, doubling over in pain. Emma almost feels guilty, but he did just try to force his lips on hers. Kissogram or not, that’s assault in her books.

She shuts the door behind her and shakes her head. She really needs to have words with Walsh about acceptable displays of affection. Single roses and dinner dates, good, kissograms and oversized helium balloon bouquets, bad.

God, he’s probably the type to present her with an engagement ring in her dessert. She should probably end it before they get to that stage. She saunters back to her pancakes, forgetting all about the pirate outside her door.

***

“Oh for God’s sake, what is it going to take to get these two to kiss?!” wails Zelena. “Anyone would think that they don’t want to be happy!”

“You know, there are simpler ways to get rid of the pirate and the Saviour than playing matchmaker,” Gold mutters darkly. It’s not that he actually wants Zelena to succeed, but this is getting tiresome.

He watches her warily as a wicked smile unfurls across her lips. “I’ve had an excellent idea. Use their past against them.” She conjures up her crystal ball, and sees what she needs at once. “Ah yes, Neverland.”

***

Emma’s in a leafy grotto, skin damp from the sweat caused by the oppressive heat. Neverland. Her skin prickles. Why is she here again - and, more importantly, how?

“I thought he deserved a little credit.” She jumps, startled by the sound of her father’s voice. She watches as a scene from her memory plays out before her. Killian’s looking away from her, not wanting to meet anyone’s eyes. How had she never noticed before how bashful and uncomfortable their praise had made him?

Her mother toasts Hook, Regina refuses to, and now it’s her turn and she almost forgets herself. Manages to take the flask just before she drops it.

“To Hook.” That’s what she says, right? That’s what she’s meant to say. She’ll thank him for saving David, he’ll taunt her to deflect from how he feels, and they’ll kiss and everything will change.

(God, how had she not seen it at the time? It’s so clear now. When she kisses him, he’ll realise that he’s opened his heart up to her, that he’s let go of his first love. It’s all too much pressure for a simple kiss.)

“Did you really save his life?” she hears the words coming out of her mouth, but she feels detached from it all.

“Does that surprise you?”

“Well, you aren’t exactly, how do you say it? Mates.” She cringes at the way she impersonates his accent. She isn’t very good at revealing her emotions, so here she is, undercutting the sentiment she’s trying to convey.

Gratitude.

Oh God, gratitude is in order… She has to change the script and fast. Dimly she’s aware that he’s stopped speaking and she should reply. It’s time for her to show her thanks. She’ll try to be sincere and Hook will feel as uncomfortable as she does. So she’ll kiss him. It’ll save them both from the awkwardness of the moment, but cause a whole lot more.

Until I met you…

She stares at him, silent, unsure what to say or do. His face morphs from sincerity to discomfort under her steely gaze, finally settling on concern.

“Is everything alright, love?”

“I don’t know, I -” There’s a gust of wind and a fine dust fills the air. It clings to her body and she inhales it, coughing as its sticky sweetness fills her nose and her lungs.

“Bloody hell.” He sighs out the words. The horror and frustration she hears in his breathy tone confuses her - so they’ve got a little dusty, it’s no big… She looks at him and it hits her. She’s never felt more aroused in her life and she needs to touch him, to kiss him, to feel his skin against hers…

“Stay away from me!” he moans, “run away, tie yourself to a bloody tree, just don’t come near me!”

“But I - I need - fuck -” She gasps and realises the truth of the words at once. I need to fuck him. The thought consumes her, overwhelms her. She tears at her clothes.

His hand and hook seize her wrists, forcing them behind her as she’s shoved against a tree. For one blessed moment his body is pressed against hers then he’s moving away, tying her to the tree.

“I should’ve known you’d like it rough, Captain.”

He stares at her then, half crazed with lust. He looks so delicious, she just needs a taste -

She leans closer to him and he must have mimicked her actions, because his lips are so close. “Not like this,” he pants and runs from her.

“Fuck.” She hears Zelena’s voice crying out through the trees as a swirl of green mist surrounds them.

***

Emma blinks around her in confusion. Her lust fades as she realises that she is back outside the Wicked Witch’s house with Killian by her side.

She glances at him out of the corner of her eye, biting her lip in embarrassment at the memory of what she had just said and done. His stance is defiant, but she can see the traces of a blush on his cheeks that let her know that he feels it too.

“I was being nice to you,” Zelena huffs, “offering you a world where you could just kiss your pirate all day long. Considering how desperate you are to leave Storybrooke, I thought that would make you happy, but you seem to want this miserable existence as the Saviour.”

“All of that was you?” Emma doesn’t understand Zelena. Of all the crazy schemes she’s come up against since coming to Storybrooke, this has got to be the strangest.

“Well, you two are so adorable, I assumed that you just needed a little romance to get you to kiss him, but you are so very stubborn. What’s the matter?” Zelena tilts her head to the side with an expression of mock concern. “Is he not very good at it?”

She remembers Neverland and how good it felt to kiss him. She stamps down the thought as soon as it occurs to her, focussing instead on the rage she feels over the whole situation.

“The next time you want to take my powers, why don’t you try cursing the lips of someone I’ll actually kiss?” Emma side eyes Killian, trying to ignore the lingering throbbing between her legs that proves her words a lie. He is studying his feet and whether it’s the shame of his curse or hurt at Emma’s words, she can’t be sure.

“I did try doing this the easy way, Emma, but I guess we’re stuck with the hard way. So Emma, you’ve got a choice: you can keep your magic that makes you oh-so-sad. Or you can save the man that you can’t wait to run away from.”

Gold flicks his wrist and Killian flies through the air. He lands face down in a watering trough, which of course is full.

Emma has whiplash from all the conflicting thoughts in her head. Anger at Zelena. Confusion as to how someone goes from inventing fantasy rom com lives for their enemies to straight up drowning them. Wondering what all the feelings she had in all those fantasies meant. And above it all absolute terror that she might be about to lose Killian.

She runs to his side and tries to pull him free from the water. Zelena’s monologuing at her but she tunes her out; she’s got a pirate to save.

He thrashes wildly, but she can’t free him until he goes limp. It’s then, after he’s already stopped breathing, that she yanks him out. His face is pale and she curses herself for not just kissing him before, when it would have been perfect. Even if it wasn’t real, she wouldn’t have to live with the memory of him looking like this, so close to death.

She shakes him, shouts at him. “Hook! Hook! Hook, wake up! Killian. Come back to me, Killian.” She doesn’t want to let everyone down by losing her power to save him, but what will her life be without him?

“Oh God, son of a bitch!” she yells out, swearing that she will find a way to hurt Zelena for what she’s done.

She leans down to breathe life back into him. She feels her magic drain out of her, and she hopes that it is enough. She’d give almost anything to save him.

“Hook, come back to me,” she whispers, stroking his face. He coughs, spitting out water and gasps for breath.

“Swan?” He raises his hand to his lips and looks at her in horror. “What did you do? What did you do?!”

It’s tempting to taunt him, point out that a little gratitude is in order, but she’s so relieved that he’s OK that she’ll let it slide just this once. She stares at him, feeling awkward now that she knows he’s safe. She gets to her feet and offers her hand to help him up. She manages to resist the urge to pull him in for a hug, but she squeezes his hand tight for just a moment before dropping it.

“Come on, let’s get back to the hospital,” she mutters, staring at the ground and trying not to think about everything that just happened.

***

Emma’s lying on her pillows, gloriously sated. She’s finally had sex with Captain Hook after they time travelled because the Wicked Witch opened a portal and they almost stopped her parents Snow White and Prince Charming from meeting. Some days she wants to claw her own eyes out about how ridiculous her life is, but today? Today, she just got laid and all she can do is giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Killian asks her sleepily.

“I just fucked Captain Hook.”

“Aye.”

She turns to him, and props her head up on her arm so she can look at him properly. “And it was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

He grins and kisses her deeply. “It may have been the greatest moment of my long existence.”

He says it sincerely, but she can’t help but giggle again: she’s just so happy. “In all my fantasies, I never thought to account for your centuries of experience. How did the woman you slept with ever let you out of bed?”

“There was this one woman who tied me up. I thought it was all just kinky fun, but then she didn’t want to release me afterwards.”

“Oh yeah?” Emma arches her brow. She isn’t exactly jealous, she’s reaping the benefit of all his precious encounters and she is the one who brought it up. But still, it’s kind of odd to think of this man who is now - maybe, hopefully - hers with someone else. She’s just not quite ready to hear the intimate details.

“Luckily for you, I’m a hard man to keep tied down.” He seems to sense that it’s not wise to dwell on the subject so he turns to her with a devilish grin. “So tell me more about these fantasies of yours.”

“You already know some of them.”

He cocks an eyebrow at her. “I do?”

“Remember when Zelena went all rom com happy on us?” She stops short of mentioning why; it’s still something of a sore point. “Well when we were soulmates, I gathered that you got some of the highlights?”

“Oh yes.” He slowly and deliberately licks his lips. “You thought a lot about my oral skills as I recall. Were they everything you hoped for?”

“I don’t think you need the ego boost.”

“Oh I see, they were better, weren’t they?” Emma just smiles, honestly she didn’t know oral sex could feel that good, but she wasn’t kidding when she said he didn’t need the ego boost.

“It was kind of nice though wasn’t it?”

Killian looks offended and exclaims, “nice? I clearly did something wrong if all you can say is nice. Should I try again?”

Emma rolls her eyes. “I’m not going to say no to more oral, but I actually meant the whole soulmates thing. Being so connected? It felt good to be a part of something.”

“Oh, Swan.” He gently reaches out and pulls her towards him. She settles her head against his chest, and it feels perfect. “I preferred being your best friend.”

“Hmm?” She’d been lost in running her fingers through his chest hair and had temporarily lost track of their conversation.

“I liked the version of us where we’d been friends for years more.”

Emma thinks for a moment, oh right, the party with truth or dare.. She pushes up to glare at him. “Is that because you got to kiss everyone?” She tries to forget the memory of Hook and her dad passionately making out. She really, really does not want to think about it.

“I can remember vividly that I only had eyes for one person that night and if I had my way, my lips would have touched none other.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Emma says awkwardly, brushing off the compliment, even though she loves it. She drops her head back to his chest. “So if it wasn’t all the making out, why did you like that best?”

She feels him shrug. “It just felt more like us. We just understood and accepted each other, it was lovely.”

She considers that, it really was nice to already know each other inside out, but the closeness? That was all them. She looks up at him. “They were all us though, weren’t they? I always felt like me and we kept doing the same things over and over?”

“Aye. I can’t say that I appreciated all of that. I could’ve done without a repeat of you kicking me in the crown jewels because I tried to kiss you.”

“Zelena really was insane, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah.” Killian shakes his head. “I don’t understand why she didn’t just dose us with sex pollen from the start.”

“Sex pollen?”

“The dust that coated us in Neverland? I had to tie you to a tree and run away.”

Even the memory of that feeling is intense. Emma wonders how Killian managed to resist. “How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Fight that lust?”

“It wasn’t my first experience. I knew that it would fade with time and I couldn’t bear to take you like that. I may be a pirate, but I believe in good form, and that is not how one treats any lady, let alone the woman you love.”

Emma’s heart melts a little at this and she reaches up to kiss him softly. The kiss soon deepens, becomes wilder and more passionate. She pulls back from him, breathless. “Perhaps sometime we could try it together?”

“Sex pollen?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

She nods, biting her lip. “If that’s OK?”

He grins. “As you wish.”

She kisses him again hard, happy to be here, with him and thinking of all the thousands of ways their love story could have played out. One thing she’s sure of - whoever they are, whatever they’re doing, and however long they take to get there - they will always find each other.

#cs ff #cs ff au #cs fanfics #ouat ff #katie dub writes #never forget you #phira birthday extravaganza #katie dub arts

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