#Contemplating making a third bean for this AU

[solar-nightengale]

So This guy? Accidentally became a proper character one year later.

So Introducing Pinocchio Guercini, alongside his own Candlewick, Lucignolo Zoppetto! (Kudos to my mutual on here for helping with the names 🫶🫶)

More random sketches for these fools under the read more (Though this won't be the last time they show up around here)

[moonctzeny]

Baby

au+trope+prompt game: college!au Jaehyun + fake dating + it’s just so hard not to fall in love with you

pairing: jung jaehyun x fem!reader x asshole!yuta

other members as background characters: yuta, mark, johnny, jungwoo

genre: angst, smut

word count: 9,124

warnings: abusive relationship, toxic behaviour

summary: “When Yuta breaks your heart for the millionth time, you meet Jaehyun, freshly broken up and looking for revenge. You decide to start fake dating to get back on your exes, but your plan takes an unexpected turn. You fall in love.”

a/n: I really don’t like putting yuta in a negative light like that it’s just for the fic’s sake! also I literally used the name Naeun as Jaehyun’s ex because I think it’s SUCH a pretty name, NO correlation whatsoever to any korean celebrity named naeun!

_____________________________________

You knew it was wrong.

Looking through your boyfriend’s, Yuta’s, phone while he took a shower, was the arguably the tackiest thing you have ever done.

He was always distant lately, only seeming to make time for a booty call, and at first, you blamed your hectic schedule. Your major was demanding, to say the least, so when Yuta suggested that you replace your dates with some “quality time” at his dorm, you had no objections. You didn’t know that he also meant ignoring your calls, canceling on you at the last minute to meet up with his frat brothers, and keeping your relationship strictly between four walls and two naked bodies.

The thought of him meaning more to you than you meant for him ate you away. It creeped in your mind while you heard the water running from your shower, and lead your fingertips to tap in the password of his phone.

Opening his messaging app, you recognize his best friends’ icons in a group chat consisting of his frat members. You scrolled up, ignoring the latest massages regarding a party that the frat would be throwing in two weeks. You started to feel guilty, not exactly sure what you were looking for, when you saw your name at the screen.

m0rklee[00:10]: @yutassanhyung, i saw your girl today at the supermarket! why didn’t you tell her about the party next Sunday?

you[00:12]: what girl lol  

m0rklee[00:13]: y/n?? i thought you guys were together?

you[00:12]: nahh

fairyteil[00:15]: eyy @yutassan if you’re done with her i know a couple guys who wanna hit it too

you[00:16]: be my guest haha

you[00:16]: don’t get me wrong she was bad when we met but shit is getting kinda stale

tenoutoften[00:17]: aren’t you on your way to her place lol

you[00:17]: hey hey pussy is pussy

Was that all you were to him? Pussy?

Yuta called you special, he called you yours. He didn’t like it when you were talking to other guys. He ripped your lingerie set because he didn’t want anyone else to ever see you in it but him. And then he dared to go around and call you a fling?

You heard the water stop running and knew you didn’t have much time until you had to face him, the thought alone making you sick.

You didn’t bother to lock his phone again, leaving the chat that made you so upset open. Grabbing your keys and a jacket, you left your place and hoped that Yuta would get the message and get the fuck out of there before you came back.

Your legs walked on their own accord, your memory leading you to the only place where you knew you’d find any sort of comfort. When Johnny opened his door, tears were already streaming down your face. He took the open tequila bottle you were holding and pulled you in for a hug. He smelled like weed and beer, and after hearing the “Is that the pizzas?”, you realized that your best friend wasn’t alone.

You quickly wiped your cheeks and fixed your sex hair that Yuta messed up, trying your best to look presentable. Johnny put a hand on your back and lead you to his living room. Jungwoo, your and Johnny’s friend from high school, was sprawled out on the couch, a little disappointed after seeing that you were, in fact, not the pizzas. Next to him, drowning in a bean bag, was Jaehyun. You didn’t really know him very well other than the fact that he took the same major as Johnny, so you felt a little insecure looking as messy as you did right now. His eyes were red, just like the other men’s, but you could swear his eyelashes looked a little damp.

Jungwoo’s words were muffled by the barbecue chips he was munching away.

“Yoo y/n, I didn’t know you were coming!”

You placed the tequila bottle on the table,

“Yeah, Woo, figured you wanted something to drink”

“Move” Johnny murmured to him, but he only stretched and sighed dramatically, shoving a handful of chips in his mouth.

“I don’t need a drink I need food. I’m hungry and I got the munchies”

Johnny grabbed his ankle and with impressive ease, dragged Jungwoo to the floor. The taller man sat on the couch, on the side next to Jaehyun and you followed his lead, letting a grumpy Jungwoo lean his head on your knees. Taking the lit joint from Jaehyun’s fingers, Johnny turned his attention back on you.

“So tell me chica” he said and took a hit, “who do I have to beat up?”

“Yuta”, you grumbled, “I’m ghosting this motherfucker”

You felt the vibrations on your lap when Jungwoo started talking.

“What did he do this time? Didn’t I tell you not to get involved with stupid frat boys?”

You started petting his hair, the softness comforting under your fingers.

“Apparently I’m not ‘bad’ enough for him anymore” you replied, throwing air quotes and rolling your eyes.

“Whaaaaat” Johnny drew out with a cough after taking a particularly deep inhale from the blunt, “you’re like the baddest bitch I know. Even now, that you’re all puffy from crying and smell like his dick”

You hit his shoulder, almost dropping the joint he was passing to Jungwoo, embarrassed that he would say something like that in front of Jaehyun, an almost stranger to you.

“I don’t know, man” Jungwoo started, and you could hear the smile on his face, “when girls cry it’s kinda hot”

You were contemplating how many hairs of his you should rip out of his scalp when the telecom rang, assumably by the pizza delivery man.

“Saved by the bell”, Jungwoo muttered to himself and got up quickly to open the door. While the youngest paid for the pizzas, Johnny held your hand, a bit guilty for his words earlier. He had a mischievous smirk and kept shifting his gaze between you and Jaehyun, who had been sitting in silence ever since you got here, occasionally smiling at your friends’ teasing.

“Fuck Yuta, man. You should find a nice guy to treat you well and fuck you even better y’know?” he started, and patted his buddy roughly on the back, “Like Jae over here”

Your eyes widened and you instinctively glanced at Jaehyun, ears a deep red and a matching shocked look on his face.

You cleared your throat, “No offense, but, like, aren’t you practically married to this girl-uhhh what’s her name again? Naeun?”

To someone who wasn’t listening to your conversation, it must have seemed like you tased him, or brought up a painful childhood memory, or asked him if he’d be willing to lick a lemon after washing his teeth. He looked away from you, and turned his attention to his nails, ripping a cuticle off in deep concentration. His voice was so quiet when he finally spoke, that you barely heard him. “I broke up with her, actually.. Like, three hours ago”

Guilt washed over you in an instant, not knowing that you scratched a wound so fresh. You wanted to apologize and even ask if you should leave the three alone, when Jungwoo grabbed the Tequila bottle and crashed on the couch clumsily between you and Johnny.

“Fuck love!”, he yelled, “let’s get wasted”

_______________________________________

You stared at the empty José Cuervo bottle rising up and down Johnny’s chest with every one of his snores. He was laid out on his couch, his tall height taking up all of its entirety, leaving Jungwoo passed out on the floor. Jaehyun followed your eyes and smiled at Johnny’s sleeping face, mouth open and tongue spilling out.

After the 4th shot, you found out that Jae was a pretty decent guy. He let you rant about Yuta while your friends were busy trying to see who could eat a large pizza by himself the fastest. You told him all about how you never went on dates anymore, how you looked through his phone after having sex, and the text conversation you found earlier tonight. He listened carefully, without judgment, and after smoking some more of Johnny’s staff, he opened up to you about his relationship with Naeun.

Or rather, how he found her fucking his roommate on his own bed.

You always thought of these two as what they call a ‘power couple’. Valedictorian meets basketball all-star, they graduate and have beautiful babies, while all the rest of us mortals can do is admire from afar. You would have never guessed the toxicity, constant cheating and manipulation that Jaehyun was recounting. You bonded over stories about cancelled dates, emotional distancing and feeling like you’re always the one giving but never receiving. If you were being honest, you would have never expected such emotional depth from a college point guard. He drew you in with his gentleness, and you noticed how different he was from Yuta, who engulfed you with his intensity. You also hated how even now, you were still thinking of him.

Just then, you got his third message for the night:

asshole [03:35]:come on baby don’t ignore mee, me and the guys were just messing around

you [03:36]:stop texting me

you [03:38]:we’re done

You locked your phone, upset and angry, and felt Jaehyun sigh.

“I know I’m falling for her stupid games, but I just want to get back at her y’know? Show her what she’s missing, that type of thing”

You knew exactly what he was talking about. During the past hours, you weighted all the possible ways you could make Yuta regret ever taking you for granted.

He was so charming that he could get laid with anyone he wanted (and probably did, even when you were ‘dating’), but even after what he said to Taeil, you knew that he hated the thought of anyone else fucking you. He wanted your body to be his, without having to deal with the commitment that came with that privilege.

You thought about fucking one of his frat buddies, but that would get you from being called ‘Yuta’s girl’ to ‘ΘΨΩ’s cumslut’, and your self esteem couldn’t take that blow.

Jaehyun’s deep voice interrupted your train of thoughts.

“Maybe Johnny’s right”

“Huh? ”

“You should date me”

You blinked at him twice, not knowing what to reply when you saw him wave his hands frantically in front of his face.

“Fake date me! I mean, you should fake date me. Sorry, the weed’s got me a little fucked up”

At first, the idea seemed crazy. Yes, it would make Yuta furious that you were supposedly fucking one of the hottest guys on campus. Yes, Naeun would get mad that she didn’t have Jaehyun’s constant attention that she so craved anymore. Yes, you two might have revealed your deepest insecurities, opened up your hearts to each other all while sharing a bottle of alcohol, but you had never hanged out together without Johnny being present. You had barely hanged out together, period. But wouldn’t that make it even more believable? Two of Johnny’s best friends break up at the same time, meet up at his house and inevitably end up together. You didn’t share the same major, so you wouldn’t have to put up the act too much at college. And with social media, making a fake relationship believable was easier than ever.

asshole [03:42]: fuck you. you think you can find someone better than me?

Drunk and lacking logic, you agreed on the plan, and gave him your number. You had just finished creating the contact on his phone when he suddenly got up and rushed to the bathroom, facing the consequences of the tequila and weed combo.

You passed out on Johnny’s bean bag and when you woke up on Sunday afternoon, Jaehyun was gone.

———————————————————

You didn’t expect him to text you on Monday, thinking that it was intoxication that gave him the idea of fake dating and made it look brilliant. So when he gave you the address to his dorm, to further discuss your ‘operation’ you were surprised, but determined to succeed.

The plan was simple. You would start tagging each other on your instagram stories, to show people that you were spending time alone. He agreed to pick you up from your lecture on Wednesday, your classes coinciding on neighboring buildings. And for you final act, he’d come with you as your plus one for the frat’s party next Sunday. Mark was nice enough to invite you, after Yuta ‘forgot’ to do it instead, and Naeun, being Taeil’s sister, wouldn’t miss it for the world. It was the perfect opportunity to flaunt your new relationship, all while being on the opponent’s part of the field.

You started off innocently enough. After you and Jaehyun finished brainstorming ideas about the ‘operation’ as he insisted on calling it, he suggested you stay for a movie and some Chinese food. His dorm was cozy, a little messy, maybe, but it fitted his boyish charm. He had a nice collection of vinyls, stating that his favorite one was I. by Cigarettes After Sex. You were a bit taken aback by his love for dreampop and rnb, but the more you got to know him, the more it seemed to fit him nicely. On the wall next to his bed hung a display full of all of his sport trophies. He was known for his basketball skills, but you also saw medals for soccer, track, volleyball. Amongst them all was an English certificate and a spelling bee award. You wondered if he ever felt pressure trying to be so perfect all the time.

The movie was terrible, but Jaehyun managed to entertain you by making silly jokes throughout and mocking the actors’ bad acting. It was the first time you ever saw him crack a joke like that and be willing to contort his handsome features. So much better than the dream boy image he was feigning for everyone, but you didn’t know him well enough to tell him. The movie was halfway done when he picked up his phone and opened a camera app through his Instagram.

“Shouldn’t we take a story? Since we’re together anyways?”

You nodded and scooted closer to him. He was a bit hesitant as he positioned the camera to capture your legs that were touching, a scene from the movie playing in the background. It was a cute picture but nothing indicated that the two of you were more than friends. You pressed the X at the top of the screen to discard the picture, and placed his hand on top of your thigh. You turned around just in time to witness his ears turning into a fuschia pink.

“Is that okay?”

He nodded and regained his cool, taking the picture and tagging you with a red heart next to your username.

A couple hours after leaving his place you texted him, asking if Naeun had replied to his story. He said that unfortunately, the only person who batted an eye was Johnny, replying with a “ 👀 👀 👀 “ .

———————————————————

You met up again the next day, at your apartment this time.

He looked nervous being in a place so foreign to him yet so personal to you, so you decided to turn the lights down to help him relax, insisting that you weren’t trying to seduce him or anything. He laughed at your joke but still looked tense, and you thought that maybe he needed some liquid courage to open up.

“Hey Jae. Want a drink?”

It took him 3 beers to finally loosen up and show you his dimpled grin again. You were sitting on the floor, facing each other and feeling comfortable in the ambience of the room. A Spotify playlist was playing in the background so it would fill up the awkward silence but wouldn’t distract you from your conversation.

“Wait wait wait. So you sleep without a pillowcase?”

“Yeah, didn’t you notice it when you came to my place yesterday?”

“I thought you forgot to do your laundry!”

His laugh was resonating and deep and manly. It made his eyes disappear and his face light up, not that it didn’t anyway - the guy could easily be a skin care ambassador, and you made a mental note to ask him about his moisturizer later.

You followed his gaze to one of your walls. Pictures were filling it up, memories of yourself and your siblings, of your friends from home that you missed, of Johnny and Jungwoo. You felt a little insecure then, comparing them to Jaehyun’s countless medals and awards.

“I’m not good at sports like you, so I have nothing else to hang on my wall”, you laughed awkwardly but he shook his head.

“No, I’m actually jealous of you. Everyone always seems to want to be around you”

“Except Yuta”

“Yuta’s an idiot, then. You are way out of his league anyways.”

You felt yourself turning into a blushing mess and looked for a way to break the awkward silence that followed his comment.

“Wanna share another one?” you asked him, shaking the empty beer bottle on your hand and he nodded. You started getting up when you felt him put a hand on your shoulder and pick up the bottles you had finished up from the table himself. He rinsed them off and put them away to the recycling bag next to your sink, the domesticity of the action making you melt. You watched as he stood on his tiptoes to reach a lager from the top drawer of your fridge, revealing a defined set of abs and two cute dimples on his lower back. You ripped your eyes away immediately, like you were caught doing something illegal, and he walked back to his spot next to you. As soon as he sat down, he groaned and threw his head back.

“The bottle opener was on the kitchen counter. I forgot to bring it”

Without saying a word, you took the beer from his hand and placed the cap in your mouth. It was a party trick that your older brother had taught you when you were 15. After finding a stable indentation on your teeth, you manipulate the rough edges of the cap and pop the beer open. You return the glass bottle to Jaehyun, who’s looking at you incredulously.

“Fuck me, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen”, he breaths out and you feel your whole face burning up. You opened and closed your mouth a couple times, trying to register that someone like him thought you were hot, when you felt your phone vibrating, saving you from further embarrassing yourself.

Johnny’s picture lit up on the screen and you mentally prepared yourself for the following conversation. You and Jaehyun decided against telling anyone about your relationship being fake. It’s not that your best friend wasn’t reliable, but if you told Johnny you had to tell Jungwoo, and Jungwoo doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut to save his life.

“John, what’s up”

“Eyy chica what took you so long?”

You looked at Jaehyun who had leaned back against the pillow of your couch and sipped on the beer you would share.

“Yeah sorry I was a little busy”

“Busy.. with Jaehyun?”

You tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, but you were still trying to recover from the previous incident.

“Yeah, he’s here”

“Ohh I see, little y/n can’t get enough of Jae’s slam dunks.. I bet he’s teaching you the bank shot, the opening tip, the double dribble, the fast break, the palming.. he sure is great for a rebound-”

You interrupted him, growing tired of his nonstop basketball innuendos.

“Why did you call me Johnny?”

“Damn, sorry, I just wanted to ask you what you wanted for your birthday”

Shit, you forgot about that.

“Just get me whatever, I don’t care, you know how much I hate celebrating anyways. I’ll get the cake myself, so no surprises”

Jaehyun lifted his brows and waited patiently for your call to end before asking:

“What are we celebrating?”

“It’s my birthday on Friday. I’m going to invite a couple people over and Johnny’s already stressing over it. Don’t worry, though, you don’t have to come”

“How can your boyfriend not come to your birthday party?”

You laugh bitterly.

“Well, it’s not like Yuta came last year. To any of my parties for that matter”

“Well, he must have made up to you somehow? Got you a very special gift or something?”

“If you count eating me out as a gift then yes. It was very rare indeed.”

You took the beer from him and took a sip yourself. You noticed he had his eyes glued on his phone, his expression gloomy.

“Is everything okay?”

He snapped out of it at the sound of your voice and turned his phone screen towards you.

It was Naeun, or rather a post on her instagram account. She had her tongue out in the picture, hugging two guys that were unfamiliar to you. You read the caption.

“One day the loser will realize that the diamond he thinks he’s playing with is actually a rock”

Jaehyun mumbled an apology. I guess he thought that you’d be a bit offended being called a ‘rock’ but you were actually feeling satisfied. Your fake relationship had managed to get her attention, and for Jaehyun’s sake, you wanted to rub it in her face even more.

You opened your camera app and placed your phone on the table next to you. He figured what you wanted to do so he sat up straighter and motioned to his lap. You’d normally be a bit hesitant to sit on him if it wasn’t for the two beers and your determination, that had fired up again due to Naeun’s words. Leaning back a bit, you set up the self-timer and he put his hands on your hips to stabilize you.

You had agreed on turning up the boldness of your pics, so you placed your hands on his neck, right under his jawline. He snaked his hands upwards and wrapped them around your waist, bringing you even closer. His eyes were glossy from the alcohol and he looked at you with an impressive calmness, considering the intimacy of your position. It seemed like he was waiting for something, the ticking of the timer urging you to take things a bit further and he nodded, as if giving you permission. You leaned in, and pressed your lips on the corner of his mouth, like you couldn’t decide on kissing his dimple or his lips.

After hearing the click you climbed down from his lap, and prayed that the photo came out in focus. Your heart couldn’t handle another retake. From the angle of the camera, it seemed like you were a couple in love, sharing a sweet kiss on the lips. You added a cute caption and tagged him, so he could repost it later on his own account.

It hadn’t been 5 minutes before your phone lit up.

yutassan replied to your story: what the fuck?

You smiled triumphantly and showed the message to Jaehyun, who laughed at Yuta’s reaction. He gave you an excuse about some forgotten homework and how it was late and he has to go.

“Remember, I’ll pick you up tomorrow from class, so wait for me”

After he left, you thought about your almost kiss and the dimples of his back for way too long.

——————————————————

You exited the classroom with a growing headache. The lesson today seemed extra boring, and all you could think about was that you had to convince Johnny that it really took just three days for Jaehyun and you to officially start dating.

As promised, the pair waited for you at the end of the hallway, your best friend looking at the two of you expectantly. Jaehyun was a good actor, you thought, as he approached you before you got to reach them, meeting you halfway.

“Hey baby”, he smiled at you, the nickname turning your legs into jelly. He wrapped one arm around your shoulder, and kissed your cheek sweetly, making Johnny coo at the two of you.

“I can’t believe that I hadn’t thought about pairing the two of you together earlier”

He must have thought that the awkward body language and the silence that fell was a sign from you and Jae to leave you alone. He excused himself, saying something about “letting the young lovers swim in the pool of their love”, or something along those lines.

The two of you walked together, following the road to your next class that was just a few buildings away.

“So how has class, baby

You rolled your eyes at the insistent nickname, “you know that Johnny left us, like, 5 minutes ago, right?”

“Let me enjoy itttt”, he whined, “Naeun never let me call her anything like that”

“Why is that?”

He looked at his feet moving and frowned in thought.

“She said I was embarrassing her in front of her friends. I think she just didn’t want other guys to know that we were together”

You felt a pang of sadness and you realized that it always followed any conversation you two had about his and Naeun’s relationship.

“Well then if you call me baby, I can will you honey. Or sugarplum. Or pumpkin pie. Or-“

It was startling how fast Jaehyun pressed you up against the wall. In just a moment, he had put his hands on your waist, burying his face in your hair. You shivered when you felt his breath as he spoke against your neck.

“Yuta’s watching us”

All you could do was stay frozen in place, and listen with wide eyes.

“Huh?”

He chuckled at your response, but he replied patiently.

“Yuta? Your ex? He’s right over there. Figured we should give him a show”

And with that, he kissed you. Everything was happening so fast, that you could barely comprehend that Jaehyun, that was a stranger in the past weekend, was now making out with you at the hall, for everyone to see.

And that included Yuta.

You opened your eyes in the kiss and searched for him, spotting him with his frat buddies. His eyes were piercing through the two of you, and you saw Mark holding him back by the shoulder. The look on his face was priceless.

Jaehyun pulled back and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Thank you”, you whispered, “but I need one more favor”

“Anything baby”

“Slap my ass as we walk away”

Sure enough, Jaehyun took your hand and you continue your walk, momentarily stopping to make eye contact with Yuta and give you a little spank. It was something your ex loved doing on the rare occasion you two met up outside of your dorms, no matter how public the setting. You heard Mark yelling something at his ‘Yuta hyung’ and that’s when you thought, your plan just might work.

———————————————————

You didn’t see Jaehyun until your birthday. It was just a small get together, but your place was starting to get a bit crowded as time went by. Johnny had been suffocating you with hugs ever since he got there, reminiscing the time you met as teenagers and calling you an old lady. Jungwoo on the other hand couldn’t stop asking about Jaehyun. You kept making excuses about how he didn’t feel so good today and might not make it. You didn’t expect him to come, of course. Just because you had agreed on fake dating, it didn’t mean that he had any obligation to be present in all your social events. The loving message he left on your Facebook wall was enough to fulfill the purpose of your current relationship.

That is why, when you heard a knock on your door, the last thing you thought you’d see was Jaehyun holding a dozen of red roses.

“Happy birthday baby!”, he exclaimed and gave you a kiss on your cheek,

“I asked Johnny about your favorite flowers, hope we got it right”

Feeling speechless, you took the roses from his hands and inhaled their sweet scent. You were dumbfounded that he actually came, and even brought you a present. You thanked him for coming, and he repeated the same thing he said back at your place, “how could your boyfriend miss your birthday?”

And even you were fooled, momentarily, when he held you by the waist later that night and sang you happy birthday. You blew your candles and all you could wish for was a love like the one Jaehyun was faking for you. He helped you clean up, and was more than willing to socialize with all of your friends. You admired how well he fitted in your social circle, already friends with Johnny and Jungwoo, yet so nice that even people he met for the first time came to love him.

You were sitting on one of your dining chairs, your two best friends already passed out on your couch. They had brought two bottles of vodka and your favorite tequila, but you weren’t in the mood to drink. You couldn’t help but remember the time when you practically begged Yuta to be there on your special day and he still missed it. You were scared that if you got a little drunk you would text him, or worse, call him, his sweet talk bringing you back to him all over again.

The only sounds resonating through your apartment were Jungwoo’s light snoring and a chill Spotify playlist playing from your laptop. A familiar tune came on, and you recognized it being ‘Nothing’s gonna hurt you baby’ by Cigarettes After Sex. You immediately looked at Jaehyun, the only conscious person still at the party other than you. He threw his head back and sighed contently at the sound of his favorite song. You saw him get up and walk over to you, reaching his hand out.

“Will the birthday girl spare me a dance?”

You slow danced in the middle of your living room, ending the night in the sweetest note. Jaehyun always felt so stable, so safe. You wondered how he got himself tangled up in that mess of a relationship with Naeun. Maybe it was the way he treated people with such kindness, void of any prejudice. Maybe he was a little bit like you, and didn’t think he deserved much.

“She’s crazy” you mumble against his chest, his confused hum making you feel the vibration on your face.

“Naeun. She’s crazy for ever cheating on someone like you. You’re perfect”

“I have my flaws”

You thought about how competitive he got when you played beer pong earlier, how his ears get red when he gets embarrassed, how he shows his dimpled smile in apology when he’s late. His love for drinking and how it makes him more honest, his trust in people that must have gotten him hurt many, many times. You liked them all, you loved them all.

“It’s just so hard for someone not to fall in love with you”

———————————————————

And that’s how the days went by with Jaehyun. You met up almost every day, in restaurants for a nice dinner, or hanging out in each other’s dorm. It was so much fun getting to spend time with him, that you sometimes forgot to make your meetup public on social media. You helped him with his math homework, and he helped you dye your hair. You even went to his basketball game, and he dedicated one of his goals to you, following every teen movie cliche.

You felt a little sad how it was all falling to an end. The plan was successful, for the most part. Naeun had asked Jaehyun to meet up later tonight, talk things through. You wished he wouldn’t go back to her, but you knew you had no real say in his love life. Yuta saw that he didn’t own you, that there were people like Jaehyun that were willing to give you what your ex had promised you, but wasn’t able to give. Well, not really, you reminded yourself. Jaehyun was faking it. You shouldn’t let yourself get lost in the fairytale, even if the past two weeks were some of the best of your life. He had proposed that you claim that the reason for your upcoming ‘breakup’ was differences in character, but you decided to stay friends. You were happy that at least, in the midst of all this mess, you met someone like him.

It was Saturday, a day before the frat party. You had invited him over, celebrate the end of your relationship with some pizza and a movie.

The movie was boring, but Jaehyun made you laugh. It reminded you of the first time the two of you met up alone. You had gotten comfy on your couch, sharing popcorn when you noticed. A huge bruise was peeking out from Jaehyun’s tank top, the dark color contrasting against his porcelain skin.

“What the hell?!” you exclaimed and scooted closer to him. You rushed your hands on his chest, your fingers pushing the fabric aside to examine the bruise. You found even more bruises scattered around it, accompanied with scratches that stretched longer than his top could.

“It was from the game the other day”, he tried to excuse, but you weren’t buying it.

“Jae, I was there. You played basketball, not WWE. Now who did this to you?”

He sighed and fidgeted with a loose string on his jeans, clearly uncomfortable.

“When I caught Naeun with my roommate, and broke up with her, she didn’t take it very well”

You kept staring at him, urging him to continue.

“She started calling me names, saying that she’s the best I’ll ever have. That I’m worthless without her, just a social climber trying to mooch off of her popularity”

He motioned on his torso, “When I kicked her out of my place, this happened”

“Is that the first time she acted violent?”

He shook his head. “Pretty much every time she didn’t get her way”

“Jae”, you started, placing your hands on top of his “this is abuse. Have you ever talked to anyone about it?”

“It’s- it’s nothing. It’s embarrassing”

“No it’s not! Abuse is not exclusive to any gender! Guys get affected by it too!”

“It’s embarrassing because I know I can physically stop her but I don’t”

His eyes were starting to water, the sight was heartbreaking. “I sit there frozen and just take it”

“Why?”

“Because part of me believes her. That I’m hopeless without someone like her, dictating what I can and cannot do. I don’t need a shrink to tell me that it’s sick. I have these bruises to remind me”

You were starting to get angry. Angry at that bitch for hurting him, angry at Jaehyun who puts up with it, angry at you, for not seeing past the obvious like everyone else.

“I’m not letting you go see her tonight”

He laughs at you, putting up an invisible barrier between you.

“Not letting me? Wake up y/n! We’re not a real couple, remember? We’re just faking it to satisfy our selfish needs. This whole thing is pointless”

He stormed to the door and you tried to stop him, but he was too riled up for that.

“You’re going to forget about me as soon as this whole circus is over, just like everyone else”

“How can you accuse me like that when you haven’t even let me be a part of your life for real?”

“Because now you’ve met me. Me. With all my ugly, all my fucking bruises. Is it still so hard not to fall in love with me?”

With that, he closed your door with a bang, not even letting you answer that yes, it was impossible not to fall in love with Jung Jaehyun.

———————————————————

History seemed to repeat itself, as you got a text from him the next morning, that you didn’t expect.

jaehyunnie: let’s meet outside of the frat at 10:30, i’ll bring the booze.

And that’s what you did, showing up with your shortest skirt, spotting Jaehyun sitting a few meters from the frat’s entrance. He was laying against the wall, his eyes red, and he gave you the same smile he always did when he saw you, as if your fight yesterday never happened.

“Hey baby” he said and pulled you in for a hug. You couldn’t resist the invitation, and felt yourself melting in his embrace. He smelled like weed and shower gel.

It was nice, how he proclaimed your truce, but you still had to get something off your chest.

“Listen, Jae, about last night, you were right. This whole thing is pointless. We can go home, if you want”

“No baby”, he started and pulled away just enough to look at you. His eyes were droopy but glancing back at you with such care as he moved a strand of hair out of your face, “we’re here to have fun”

You wondered why he was still willing to come to the party with you as your boyfriend. Maybe he wanted to do you one last favor with Yuta, or maybe he wasn’t done indulging in Naeun’s petty games. You looked at his forearms, noticing a few scratches that weren’t there yesterday.

“I’m guessing you and Naeun didn’t make up last night”

He shook his head, and rubbed his hands on your back, keeping your temper down.

“Did you get in a fight?”

“Something like that”

You didn’t know what came over you. It was anger and protectiveness, possessiveness even. You laced your fingers in his locks, letting his head rest against the wall. If Naeun wanted you to speak in her language, then so be it.

You started kissing his neck, on that part on the side that is tender and sensitive. You heard passerbys whistling at the two of you, seemingly getting it on in public. Your licks and sucks weren’t meant for pleasure though, you had a goal and that was to leave a bruise. A statement for Naeun.

You walked in the building hand in hand and followed Jae to the kitchen, where he poured you a drink out of the bottle he brought along. Looking around, you sensed a couple familiar faces staring back at you from the crowd. Taeyong from class, Mark and Ten, and last but not least, Naeun. You downed the drink in one shot and lead Jaehyun to the dance floor.

He put his hands on your hips, and swayed you at the sound of some club song you weren’t familiar with. You ground your ass against him and he hissed, keeping you close against him. A little voice in your head was screaming how this isn’t real, to him this is all pretend, but you ignored it. You wanted her to think that he was yours, that she couldn’t hurt him anymore.

“Why are you doing this to me y/n? Yuta’s not even around”

Jae turned you around, and you put your hands on his shoulders. He looked absolutely breathtaking tonight. You searched his face for a flaw, yet couldn’t find any. You wouldn’t change a single thing on him.

“She’s here” you said venomously.

He buried his face in your neck, inhaling the smell of your hair and trying to ground himself from his high. “I don’t give a fuck about Naeun”

He kissed your ear and your mind fogged up even more.

“She didn’t ask me to meet up yesterday, I did. I wanted to tell her that she and I were done, for good. I thought she wouldn’t be here tonight, but I guess she changed her mind”

What?

“Then why are you here? And why did you let me give you that big ass hickey?”

He stopped nibbling on your ear, and whispered to it instead.

“I’d never miss up on a chance to feel yours”

The bodies dancing next to you, the liquer you had downed a few minutes ago and Jaehyun’s words were getting too much to handle. You felt suffocated, unable to distinguish where reality ended and pretending began with you two.

“Jae, I need a moment, excuse me”

Releasing yourself from his grasp, you made your way to the kitchen. There wasn’t any fresh air, but there was plenty of booze. You poured yourself a shot and as you downed it, you felt another liquid trickling down your top.

You looked up to find out who managed to make this night even worse for you, only to come across the last person you needed to see tonight. Yuta.

“Shit I’m sorry”, he muttered and you avoided eye contact, thinking you’d manage to get away without him realizing it was you. Luck wasn’t on your side tonight.

“Well well well. Long time no see.”

Confidence was dripping from his smile, to his stance, to the way he looked at you. He had dyed his hair your favorite color, his white locks begging to be tugged and played with. To top it all off, he smelled good, so, so good. He smelled dangerous. Comfortable.

You immediately realized that you didn’t have the self control needed to resist him. Turning on your heel, you started to get the hell out of there when he held your wrist, keeping you in place.

“Wait, I’m sorry, you can’t stay like this, you’ll catch a cold”

“Since when are you worried about me?”

“C’mon y/n, please. Come upstairs, I’ll give you a clean shirt. No funny business, I promise”

You hated yourself for this, but you followed him upstairs to his room, like a pray falling right into the hunter’s trap. He closed the door behind him, muting the loud music and you sat on his bed that you were so familiar with. Looking through his closet, he passed you one of his t-shirts, and turned around to let you change with some privacy. It was comical how chivalrous he was acting, considering the unspeakable things you’ve done in here.

“Not like you’ll see something you haven’t seen already”, you murmured and he chuckled, raising his hands.

“Hey, I’m a gentleman. It’s my fault, after all. I have a habit of getting you wet.”

Blushing at his comment, you quickly changed into the clean shirt and felt the bed dip next to you. You thanked him under your breath and started getting up, when you felt him hold you back once again.

“Stay, just a moment. I’ve missed you”

“What do you want?”

“You, baby”

Yuta was the one who said it, but you swore you felt Jaehyun’s voice reverberating through the nickname. Suddenly, it felt like there was no air for you to breathe.

“That’s not happening, Yuta. I’m with Jaehyun now”

He scoffed, “Jaehyun? Naeun’s puppy? Come on now, we both know you can do better than that”

“Don’t talk about him like that”, you bite back, but he doesn’t budge.

“What kind of boyfriend leaves his girl alone in a party like this?” He grips your chin, making you stare at him face to face, impossibly close. “Look at you. Every single guy in this party wants to fuck you. You expect me to be ok with this?”

Yuta lets his other hand glide on your knee, moving up to your thigh slowly. He smiled at how easy it was to focus on him.

“Do you remember how I made you feel? How I reminded you that you’re mine? You were moaning so loud, Mark thought you’d pass out. You loved it.”

You wanted to scream, tell him that this was the past you, that you couldn’t take going back to him once again and get your heart broken one more time, but you felt helpless around him. The warm feeling was only temporary, it would soon evaporate when you face the fact that to him, you are nothing but a play toy, a possession.

And that’s when Jaehyun barged in through the door. His eyes moved frantically from Yuta’s hands on your thighs, to his band tee you wore, to your discarded top on the floor. He quickly turned red, the color spreading from his neck to his face, then landing on his ears.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing with my girlfriend?”

You instantly got up, following his thought sequence.

“It’s not what it looks like! He spilled his drink on me and gave me a clean shirt and..and..”

“And you decided to sit on his lap to thank him?”, he mocked you and Yuta laughed.

“Calm down, dude. I didn’t make her do anything. Besides, it’s not the first time y/n found her way over here after some disappointing dick”

Jaehyun grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up from the bed, forcing him to stand and face him. You moved between the two, trying to stop the catastrophe that was about to happen. Jae might have more muscle power than Yuta, but if the whole frat ganged up on him he would have to leave this place in a stretcher.

“Jaehyun please, let’s just go. Baby, please”

The nickname was the only thing that brought him out of his rage and made him listen to you. He let go of Yuta and took your hand, dragging you out of the room.

You were two hallways down when you pulled away, forcing him to stop.

“Why did you have to get so mad?”

“Why the fuck did you go back to him?”

“I didn’t! It was just.. so hard for me to tell him no”

You felt your eyes water with how pathetic you sounded. Jaehyun rubbed his hands over his face, groaning in frustration.

“Don’t you understand how much it fucking hurts? To see you with that guy that treats you like shit when I’m right here, willing to give you everything? When I’m in love with you?”

You couldn’t process what he said because in a moment, his mouth was on yours. The kiss was so different than the one you shared at the hallway of your campus. It was passionate, it was rough, and this time, he monopolized your attention. His lips were determined to bruise into yours, leaving you breathless and causing your back to fall against a wall. It was crowded around you, eyes prying into your intimate moment but to you, the only person around was Jaehyun.

“You smell like him”, he growled, sucking on the tender spot under your ear, “makes me wanna fuck his scent off of you”

That was all you needed to hear. You led him to the frat’s guest room, knowing that Taeil always kept a spare key in the lamp next to the door. Unlocking the door seemed like a tour de force with Jaehyun leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck, but you finally managed to stumble inside. You locked the door behind you, continuing your heated kiss, hands roaming around each other’s body.

He was taller than you, so when you felt him grab your ass with such eagerness, you almost lifted off the ground. You palmed him through his jeans, the roughness of his hard on making your panties stick from wetness just a bit more.

“I want to taste you” you managed through kisses, but he just unzipped your skirt as a response, pulling it to the floor in one hasty move. Petting your clit through your underwear, a shiver ran down your spine, spreading goosebumps all over your arms and legs.

“I don’t think I have the patience for that”

He walked you backwards towards the guest bed, taking his pants and shirt off along the way. You sat on the edge of it and admired his godly proportions, when you took notice of the bruises and scratches that led to your fight on Saturday. Suddenly feeling the need to slow down, you started leaving kisses over each and every one of them. You wanted him to trust you, give in to you completely. He had his flaws just like he said, but you wanted all of him. And you wanted him now.

“I need you, now”, you voiced your thoughts and helped him take off his boxers, revealing his hard cock. He was thick and decently long, making your mouth water and your pussy clench.

Towering on top of you, he removed your panties that were embarrassingly damp at this point, and by his smirk, you knew he noticed.

Jaehyun bent your legs next to your torso, making you expose all of you. He licked his lips as he dove into your lower ones, muttering praises about your “pretty pussy”, turning you impossibly wet.

Jung Jaehyun never disappoints, you thought, because the moment you felt the first lap over your sensitive bud, you got a taste of heaven. He alternated between licking and sucking over the spot that turned you into putty against him. You were already unbearably turned on at this point, and the changing pace of his tongue made you lose your mind.

Your pants and moans only seemed to urge him on, and after a few minutes of his careful treatment you felt yourself getting close. He must have sensed it, because when you grabbed the bedpost in an effort to stop shaking, he stood on his knees, and reached for a condom in his wallet.

You didn’t have time to complain about the denial of your orgasm, and started taking Yuta’s shirt off, when he grabbed your hands and placed them back on their previous position on the headboard.

“Don’t”, he said sternly as he lined himself up your entrance, “I want to fuck you in his shirt”

There was no time to think about whether his request was healthy or not, because when you felt him stretch you out, the only thing on your mind was him and his dick.

You let out a deep moan and he took it as a sign to screw himself deeper inside you. Your pussy gushed uncontrollably, filling the room with the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin. You unlaced your fingers and ran them down his back, ghosting them over the dimples that had affected you so much.

Jaehyun lowered himself, letting his chest touch yours, and you could feel his abs contracting over the fabric of Yuta’s shirt.

“I bet he’s never eaten you out like that, yeah?”

“N-no, never, ahh”

He sat up again, putting your legs over his shoulders and lifted your butt off the mattress, gripping your hips to steady himself before continuing his incredible pace.

“You’re mine, aren’t you baby? Mine to give you everything.”

The position felt divine. He was hitting it incredibly deep, reaching the spot that had you moaning so loud you were thankful for the unbearably loud music of the party. You were sure his fingers would leave a mark over your hipbones but you didn’t care, the pain only accentuating the warm feeling in your belly.

“J-Jae don’t stop - fuck don’t stop I’m gonna cum”

He leaned over, grabbing your face that was contorting in pleasure.

“Look at me when you cum for me”, he demanded, and when you rolled your eyes behind your head, letting go, he let out his first moan for the night.

He kissed your lips sweetly, helping you ride out your high.

“You’re so beautiful, my baby. So, so beautiful”, he praised and you submitted fully to him. He turned your body around, positioning you in all fours, and you wondered where the gentle boy you met at Johnny’s house went. His dick buried in you once again, spreading your juices around and the sensitivity of your previous orgasm made you aware of every single inch.

“So fucking tight”

Jaehyun didn’t go easy on you. He saw how much you liked it, how you were pushing your ass against his cock. He pounded in and out of you with the intention of fucking your thoughts out, and that’s just what he did. When the feeling got too much, and making any sort of noise seemed like a feat, you felt him push your hair back, and start biting on your neck, most definitely leaving a mark.

“I’m gonna cum. Fuck, I’m gonna cum”, he muttered, his voice wavering and you felt him release in the condom inside you.

It took a while for the both of you to regain your breaths. Jaehyun’s chest was heaving up and down as you rest your head on top of it, not brave enough to break the silence.

“I’m sorry”, he finally said and started petting your hair lovingly.

“About what?”

The bed was foreign and small but you both stayed still, wanting to bask a little more in the peacefulness of the moment.

“About getting so possessive, and saying all these things out of jealousy. I acted just like him..”

You kissed his left peck, listening to his heart that was starting to beat in a faster pace.

“Jaehyun, you’re nothing like Yuta. I get how you felt, I feel the same way when I think about you with Naeun”

He took your hand that was resting on his abs and planted a kiss on your palm. Your heart did a flip and you were pressed so close together, he sure must have felt it.

“I should have told you about her sooner. About the fights and how I let her go because of you. I was in denial about my feelings for you because-“

He stopped mid sentence, wary of the way his words would come off to you. Jaehyun was a proud man, but he opened up his heart tonight, admitting he was in love with you. He had already exposed so much of himself that you gave him the time he needed to organize his thoughts.

“Because I was insecure. That you would never like someone like me. That Naeun was right. That you were only interested in playing pretend with me and didn’t mean any of the things you said, and I let myself get carried away in a lie”

You and Jaehyun were two lost souls, trying to break free from the constraints your insecurities built up for you. You didn’t have to succumb to your masochistic tendencies anymore, wasting your time in heartless lovers because now you found him and he found you. Both unable to see any value in themselves, but more that willing to treasure the other. And that was enough for you.

“I’d be honored to be loved by someone like you. Baby.”

[lvlyhao]

「PART ONE: HOPE」

Humanity series; Q.K

A/N: this truthfully is a basic ass apocalypse!au but i couldn’t care less so that’s that on that. come talk to me if you wanna tell me your thoughts i’d literally cry out of joy other chapters coming soon!!

important: i know i put minor character death as a warning but it’s not, i repeat, NOT one of the nct members. jesus, i’m not that cruel. having said that, please enjoy it.

word count: 1.3K

pairing: none (yet).

disclaimer: the characters in the story below do not reflect real people or present real facts. this is purely fictional, and you may not copy, change, translate or repost my work in any way. all rights reserved © cherry-hyejin 2021.

next chapter

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When the world you know is going through an apocalypse, many things become outdated, antiquated, old, or useless. Call it as you will. They no longer serve their purpose. At least, not when one-third of the world population is dead, and you fight zombies daily.

You could probably go over 100 items that fit the description—cellphones, high heels, short skirts, televisions; really, nearly anything that you were once happy or proud to own. 

The one thing that stuck to you the most, though, was a heart.

Of course, no two hearts are the same, but you mean yours. People that naturally don’t care about others probably have an easier time, but, gods, look at you! How could you keep that golden heart of yours safe from the claws of despair? How did you plan on picking up its pieces every time it fell apart?

Well, you reasoned to yourself, the week after the virus began spreading. Maybe I just shouldn't. 

At that moment, your brain told you it was the right decision. No one has the time to deal with these sentiments when their life is always on the line, right?

You sure hoped so, because that one, fateful night, you blinked back the tears, swallowed hard, and killed every bit of fear that still lived in you, killing, as well, part of your humanity.

Looking back now, contemplating the night sky, you can admit it had been scary. Very scary. 

Rumours about a new virus, different from anything the world had ever seen, got out pretty fast. People talked about it everywhere, and even more at the hospital where your parents worked. But, you know, people always talk. A disease that could turn someone into an actual zombie, with no conscience and the need for human flesh? There was just no way in hell that was true.

“Sure, Hendery”, you used to mutter to your friend, not paying attention to his absurd theories.

Not too long later, you came to regret it. Did it take both of your parents dying for you to believe it?

Your lips twisted into a scowl. Life can be an unfortunate thing.

After you had gazed into the eyes of your mother's colleague when he told you the news, nothing was ever that frightening again. Sure, the undead, boo-hoo. Glassy, unblinking eyes, a putrid smell and a keen sense of hearing. Thousands of them slowly crawl across probably every city in the world, hunting for their next meal. Simply terrifying, you snigger bitterly. 

To be fair with the people you have come to know, that always seemed scared out of their wits, they were in a lot more danger than you. Why, do you ask? 

That is quite simple. You are immune.

You did not waste your time trying to understand the words your father had told you the night before he died. It was something about a specific section of your DNA that stopped that virus from spreading to your brain, or, whatever. You thought he was kidding, laughed it off and headed to bed. You remember having bad dreams that night.

Not being capable of turning into one of them did come in handy later, when you had already found a group of students from the university you used to attend. While you couldn't say they looked well back then, being alive was the most they could do. They were all mostly younger than you—not at all smaller, per se, but more naive, more fearful. 

More reluctant to go looking for food when they were running out of it. 

The minute they told you about the problem, you took it in your hands to care for them. Chuckling at their protests, you had said someone had to look out for the children, and so you did.

The morning you left to scavenge for food didn’t go half as bad as you expected. Having nothing but a bow and some arrows, and some short knives on you, only getting chewed on one shoulder was way more than you had hoped for. During the fight at the crumbling supermarket building, you thought maybe you were going to lose a finger or two, possibly break a leg. But a bitten shoulder? That was pretty cool.

You were almost pleased with yourself when you marched back to the campus dorms, dragging behind you a cart filled with everything you could get your hands on. Among more essential items like rice, you had even managed to smuggle some jelly beans, dropping them quietly by Chenle’s side with a secretive smirk. However, the lighthearted atmosphere didn’t last for too long—just until Taeyong’s eyes landed on you. 

You can almost hear his loud gasp and choked shriek again, yanking at your jacket with rubber gloves to get a closer look. As he visibly paled and grimaced, you could tell it was worse than you thought. 

Maybe it was the adrenaline still pumping through your veins, or the small feeling of achievement as you saw your boys eating again, but getting the wound treated did not hurt that much. The weight on your shoulders did not lessen, and you were still very aware of the smell of death that clung to your clothes, but… you were satisfied. As satisfied as a ruthless fighter such as you could be, anyway.

That night, lying close to each other and talking in whispers, you told them about everything that had happened before you found them: the death of your parents, how you found your weapons, and your decision to free yourself from fear. You might have left out the part about the mild numbness that came along, but did it matter? They listened like you were describing to them all of the secrets in the universe, and barely even blinked. It would have been endearing if thoughts about them being on their own for so long had not made you set your jaw forcefully.

About two days later, while you sharpened your knives on the corner of one of the rooms, Taeyong had sat down beside you. His once blond hair had turned ashy, and black, where his roots had grown. His clothes were ripped at strange places and were not at all fashionable. He no longer was the model-like nursing major you used to know, but the caring gleam in his eyes was as evident as ever. His heart was still whole.

He quietly spoke to you about the change you had inspired in his friends. Knowing about your fearlessness had done something to them. 

Donghyuck had not cried himself to sleep ever since. Doyoung was not shaking as badly when he had to help Tyong at the med bay. Renjun no longer paced in circles like a lost boy, and Jaehyun was definitely more appreciative of the throwing knives you gifted him. Small but important things had changed, and you could see it in their smiles as they passed by, wishing you a good morning. 

Your speech, as improvised and adrenaline-driven as it had been, had given them something not even Johnny's jokes could bring—and that was saying a lot. It gave them hope, sewing together the small pieces of the people they used to be.

Maybe it was not the kind of hope to go back to their old lives, studying their asses off for finals one day and attending 3 frat parties the other. No, going back to those times was ahead of what anyone could wish for, but, maybe, just maybe, they could finally dream of a new future. Things in this future would be entirely anew, most likely different from what they know, but perhaps not all bad. 

Maybe it was not the kind of hope to get back what they had lost, but simply hope, and when the world you know is going through an apocalypse, that's enough.

-------

final notes: i??? really like this fic??? soon enough i’ll make a definitive masterlist so you can find the chapters easily tho, so look forward to it~

[seungminity]

Cold Lips | Kim Seungmin

↠ Pairing: Kim Seungmin x Reader (Gender Neutral)

↠ Word Count: 1.8k

↠ Genre: Fluff, Suggestive, Established Relationship Au, hints of College Seungmin

↠ Warnings: Suggestive. Cursing. Mentions of shoving an ice cube down someone's throat, but like, lovingly? There’s a boner in there somewhere.

↠ A/N: i honestly don’t even know what the fonk this is. this is literally just an excuse to write making out with seungmin bc uhmmmmmm, making out with seungmin??? yeah u get it.

The clock reads 2:34 a.m. the third time you glance at it, which gets under your nerves because time seems to move too quickly considering you’re not yet even halfway done with the 6th out of 10 paragraphs you need to write for this philosophy paper. It’s still due two days from now, but you wanted to finish it by tonight (morning) because when in college, you’ve learned that putting aside an assignment will only lead to piles and piles of paperwork, which will lead to nights and nights of breakdowns and acne. Fun.

Your spine cracks when you lean back to stretch, relieving a bit of the tension, but the stingy pain doesn’t fade away when you retreat back to your original position. Your neck and back hurt, and your bum feels numb from how long you’ve been sitting down.

The words glaring back at you seem to blur together, and a wave of sleepiness washes over you. You mentally scold yourself for putting this off, but at the time, you were too busy binging another k-drama series that your boyfriend, Seungmin, pulled you into. Letting out a big yawn, you reach across the piles of notes for your mug.

It seems to be mysteriously empty, which isn’t all that mysterious considering you’ve been chugging its contents like water for the past 3 hours, but you digress.

“Min-ah, I’m out of coffee!” The e’s drag out, and despite all your huffing and puffing, your boyfriend doesn’t look up from his own laptop. He too procrastinated writing this essay and has decided to spend the night at your apartment so the two of you could work on it together.

“Minnie,” You coo, resting your head on his leg from your spot on the floor. Seungmin instinctively runs his fingers through your hair lovingly before he resumes his typing, not once looking away from his screen.

You call out to him again in hopes that he’ll get the message and walk to the kitchen to make you some more of your precious—what he calls—hot bean water, but he ignores you and continues typing. How dare he?

“I need coffee.” You huff, but he still doesn’t move from his position. You’re feeling cranky and sleepy, and this stupid paper is not magically writing itself, which is just offensive, really. Flopping down on the table, you release a drawn-out whine of coffeeeeeeeeee.

“Baby, just get up and make some,” He seems to contemplate before reaching over for his own mug and placing it in front of you. “Make me some too.”

Technically, it’s his turn to refill your mugs since you both have been alternating back and forth to the kitchen for your coffee fills, so what gives? You voice this to him as a complaint, and his answer does nothing to relieve the dull ache in your eyes. God, do you need coffee.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

Its silent while you wait for him to elaborate. Because, because what? You slap his outstretched thigh in annoyance and he yelps out, finally looking up from his essay to frown at you.

“What was that for?” He complains.

“It’s your turn, Minnie!”

“I’ll go twice in the next rounds.” He proposes, before leaning over and pressing a kiss to your head. He resumes his typing, which is a good thing because then, he can’t see the heat that spreads across your face.

You get up with both of your mugs, giving up on arguing because you’re whipped for Kim Seungmin and will probably do anything he asks of you as long as he repays it with a forehead kiss.

“Seungmin, we’re fucked.”

The boy looks up from his laptop to see you pouting and holding the two mugs like shopping bags, both empty of his hot bean water—he learned the term from Jisung—which concludes that you either broke the coffee machine again, or you really just wanted him to be the one to fill your coffee mugs, which would make no sense because he already said he’d go twice so-

“Were out of coffee!” You announce it like it’s the most horrible thing, and it startles him a bit. Regaining composure, Seungmin assures you that you guys don’t need coffee anyway, you’ve both already consumed about 4 mugs separately.

“It’s easy for you to stay awake without coffee Minnie, you already stay up late playing with Felix, its why your eye bags have grown—hey don’t look at me like that—but I need coffee! My body isn’t used to staying up without caffeine!”

He decides to ignore your comment about his eye bags, you’ll probably force him to wear some kind of face mask anyway, and proceeds to take the mugs out of your hands before you start crankily swinging them around and breaking all of your furniture.

“Just do what you can tonight and finish up tomorrow morning, babe.” He advises, leading you back to your seat on the floor. He never really understood why you preferred doing all your work on the cold tiles rather than the couch, but you once said something about the coldness keeping you awake.

“But I need to finish this essay.” You whine.

Seungmin only smiles knowingly at you before placing another kiss on the space between your eyebrows.

“Google how to stay awake then.”

This prompts you to do just that, and you scroll through different websites of 5 tips on how to stay awake to even a wikiHow guide with pictures.

You finally stumble on a trick that you think might work, and move to venture back into the kitchen.

When you return to your seat, it’s with a cup that holds bits of crushed ice. Piece by piece, you put a small shard in your mouth and chew. Immediately, you feel more awake than when you were just drinking coffee. With this newfound energy, you continue working on your paper, stopping occasionally to plop another piece into your mouth.

crunch crunch crunch

And it is because of this spec-

crunch crunch crunch

specific factor in Kant’s-

crunch crunch crunch

theory are we able to conclude that-

crunch crunch crunch

oh my fhckign god iuwech fvoiumacxiahscmv

Seungmin stares at the keyboard smash on his screen. It’s been about fifteen minutes since you’ve realized this new hack of yours, and now every five seconds, you loudly chew another ice cube.

He doesn’t usually mind loud chewing, and it doesn’t annoy him as much as it annoys you, but ironically, the situation seems to have switched because now all he wants to do is grab another ice cube and shove it down your throat—lovingly of course, because you are the love of his life, but still-

crunch crunch crunch

Oh my god, he cannot do this anymore. Seungmin rips his laptop off of him, scrambling to get up. It’s almost 3 a.m. at this point, and he just wants to finish this stupid essay without the sound of your obnoxious chewing.

He freezes when his eyes settle on you.

Pouring another cube into your mouth from the cup, Seungmin watches as the ice has formed a permanent layer of sheen over your lips. You don’t notice him staring, which is a good thing because now he can’t seem to take his eyes off your mouth. Over time, the hue of your lips has changed into a brighter shade of red due to the coldness of the ice.

Seungmin knows you don’t have sensitive teeth, because you bite your ice cream and he always judges you for it, but the lack of feeling you have in response to the cold in your mouth has enabled you to eat ice cube after ice cube.

With your impatience, he watches as you reach for the cup and put two more pieces into your mouth, and the sight of your cheeks full and the small drips of water spilling from the corner of your lips has Seungmin shifting in his seat to fix the sudden southwards rush of his blood.

Shit.

You don’t notice the predicament you’ve unknowingly placed your boyfriend in. You’re too busy scanning over the ninth paragraph of your essay and looking for any spelling or grammar mistakes. The ice has worked wonders with keeping you awake.

You pour another ice from the cup and start chewing. From the corner of your eyes, you see Seungmin scramble off his seat and settle beside you, but you don’t think too much of it. 

Which is why it comes as a surprise when you feel his hand snake around your jaw and turn your head towards him.

There are no words that can accurately describe the sudden rush of butterflies in your stomach at the sight of your boyfriend staring at your mouth with extreme concentration. The only fitting words seem to be oh fuck, but that doesn't seem romantic enough.

You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when he tilts your head the slightest bit and slants his lips against your own. There’s an overwhelming sensation of warmth that floods your mouth in contrast to the cold bits of chewed up ice. Seungmins hands snake across your jaw to angle your head, while the other one wraps around your thigh and tugs one leg over his lap.

His teeth nip against your lips, causing you to release a sudden whimper that he just swallows. Your hands smooth over his chest before finding home at the nape of his neck, tugging and pulling at the hairs. His tongue maneuvers into the crevices of your mouth, and you seem to forget the melted ice that gathered below your tongue because before you know you it, drips of water spill from the corners of your lips.

Seungmin grunts at the feeling of water dripping out of your mouth and into his, before pressing you closer, chest to chest and thighs wrapped around him. The pressure of your hips against the stiffness in his sweats makes him grip your jaw tighter.

He lets out a low moan that has your stomach twisting at the sound, and just like every other time you’ve made out with your boyfriend, you conclude that Kim Seungmin will definitely be the death of you.

When he pulls away, his eyes are dark and filled with lust. You’re guessing it mirrors your own.

“Fuck.” He groans.

Your lips are dark and bruised, and confusion of where the hell this all came from fly out the window when he grips your hips down to grind on him. The whine that you let out would embarrass you if you weren’t so preoccupied with the way your nails dig into his shoulders.

Seungmin reaches behind you to take another ice cube. The shuffle of movement allows you to breathe, which isn’t enough (it’s never enough when it comes to him) before he’s back in his original place with you straddling him, centered over his hips. He wipes his thumb over your lips with one hand, and he pulls your mouth apart to shove the ice cube in.

“Bite, baby.”

His voice is low and raspy, and it does things to your insides. You chew a few times, enough for the ice to shatter into tiny bits across your mouth. And then he’s angling your head to roughly connect your lips again.

You never do finish your essay that night.

notes♡: ahah so uhmm... yeah 👉👈 also im pretty sure chewing ice is actually bad for your health so probably ᵈᵒⁿᵗ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵃʰᵃʰ

[thundercakes22]

Fireman AU

Steve loves Career Day. He always wins.

His mother would scold him for thinking about it that way, but it’s the truth. While often rewarding, being a firefighter is dangerous, exhausting and gut-wrenching. He works long hours, sees a myriad of things he'll never speak of, and spends too much time away from his daughter. His job is hard. But today? Today he gets to stand at the front of Thea’s class, look across the sea of giddy six year old faces and make his little girl proud.

Sitting in the back of the classroom, Steve glances around at the competition, er, other parents. He knows Mrs. Danvers works on the Hill, and the Carters are music producers. Yolanda is an accountant. Garrison is a contractor. And he’s pretty sure little Halle’s parent, who’s name Steve can never remember, owns a little boutique downtown.

Suckers, he thinks. Steve came ready with his helmet, an extra set of bunker gear for the kids to try on and a few classic “cat stuck in a tree” anecdotes. He has this in the bag.

Thea’s teacher is thanking Yolanda for her riveting  summation of tax code, when someone new comes scuttering into the room. Wincing in apology, the broad shouldered man ducks his head and slinks to the back of the room, pausing only to wink and wave a finger at a child in the third row. Steve barely notices him (busy contemplating his impending victory) until the man catches his eye, almost tripping over an empty chair in the process.

It’s him. Steve’s never seen him without the cowl but he would know that jawline anywhere. He feels a smile break over his face, eyes roaming over the figure, familiar even without the wings strapped to his back.

Captain freaking America smiles back, revealing that signature gap and confirming Steve’s intuition. The same Captain America who Steve has been flirting with on the job for the last six months. The two literally bumped into each other on the 10th floor of a collapsing building, and have been running into each other ever since. Just last week, Steve bandaged his ribs after a hard fall during a fight against some notably hostile aliens.

“Thank you,” the Captain had smirked. “I’m always glad to see my favorite first responder, but getting your hands on me has been a treat.” Steve had all but giggled, lightly shoving him away from the ambulance.

“You’re lucky this is all you need from me today, Cap. Watch your left flank,” he’d scolded with a smile. If Steve’s fingers rest a bit too long on his shoulders, neither of them mention it.

The jet pack roared to life, and the wings sprouted from his back. “Mmm, why would I when I have you to patch me up?” And he was gone.  

And now he was back. Standing next to Steve, in Thea’s classroom of all places.

“Lieutenant.” If Steve needed any more confirmation, his voice is it. Low, as if trying to avoid distracting the children or drawing more of the teachers ire. Amused, like he knows exactly what Steve is thinking. Definitely him.

“Captain,” Steve murmurs, lips trembling with the urge to grin.

“Call me Sam.”

“Steve.”

They don’t shake hands, but the way their eyes linger mean more to Steve than so casual a touch could.

The end of another parent presentation breaks the moment, the two looking away to clap with the rest of the room.

“Are you…” Steve starts, unsure how to ask the question. He glances down at the thick circular case Sam has placed at their feet.

“Yeah,” Sam ducks his head and Steve’s heart stutters over how charming it is. “I promised my daughter, Akilah, she could be the one to spill the beans.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. As if revealing his secret identity for his child’s Career Day isn’t just about the sweetest thing Steve’s ever heard.

“Besides, who’s gonna top superhero?” he adds with that damn smirk. Steve’s heart sets off again, faster than before.

Steve openly beams at him, unable to hold it in. It only grows when Sam responds with a radiant smile of his own.

Steve doesn’t stand a chance. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so thrilled to lose.

Samtember prompt fill

--15 of 30

[moonlightalpha666]

IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: DID I SAY THAT I WAS GOING TO DIGITALIZE AND POST MY GORETOBER ENTRIES DURING SEPTEMBER!? WHOOPS, I ACTUALLY MEANT NOVEMBER, SKSKSK, MY APOLOGIES, I'M ACTUALLY STUPID, LMAO-

So, here's the sixth batch of Goretober entries! GUESS WHO SAID THEY WOULD BE POSTING THEIR TRADITIONAL GORETOBER ENTRIES BUT FORGOT TO DO SO UNTIL NOW!? ME!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

Goretober Day 27: Peice By Peice: This posts first entry is about my crossover AU, FNaFTale!! In this one, Mike and Frisk are just standing in judgement hall, waiting with eachother by the others side, contemplating if trying to meet up with Chara and PG was a good idea, both souls are being corrupted slowly and painfully, peice by peice, but whose will break and die first?

Goretober Day 28: Extra Parts: This posts second entry is again about my crossover AU, FNaFTale!! In this one, Pacifist, the fusion of Frisk and Mike, is finally giving up on mercy and shooting Genocide, the fusion of Chara and PG, in the crotch, haha! That might knock some sense into them, or just make them angrier. Probably just make them angrier tbh.

Goretober Day 29: All These Scars: In this posts third and last entry, is about one of my original stories, TMOD(The Multiverse Of Danger)!! In this one, it shows the main protagonists, the cop brothers, Twist (on the right) and Swirl (on the left), contemplating their past. Twist seems pretty angry and annoyed about it, while Swirl just seems uncomfortable and upset. Poor beans!

#fnaf #undertale #au #oc #originalstory #myart #traditionalart #gore #goretober

[pixiealtaira]

I was tagged by @chocoholicannanymous to post the first lines of the last ten fics I wrote...on. They all were WIPs..all of them.  It might be a bit embarrassing to admit that this doesn’t even make a dent in the WIPs in progress.  Nope...not a dent.

I realize I tend to long first paragraphs often, so I went with between 3 and 6 lines...

Pretty much nothing as a name...so I’ll refer to it by the title of the doc.

So, with our further fluffiery...from what I worked on latest to ten back....

1) Modeling AU ---glee WIP

Santana, Rachel and Kurt were filling the condiment bottles and chatting as they watched while the group of 4 singing wait staff finished their last song. Or rather Rachel and Santana were chatting and Kurt was trying to ignore them while not letting them know he was ignoring them, or at least not letting Rachel know he was ignoring them.   He wasn’t incredibly happy with anyone that moment, although he was at a better place with Santana than with Rachel.  It could have been because he and Santana had had it out a bit earlier so the air was partially cleared, but not cleared enough for him to be helping her chat with Rachel.

2) NaNoWriMo 2017 ---- glee wip, also second part to the story above but nano wants new works...so I made it one (this year nano was a failure...ended up with too much family drama going on and the son was a senior in highschool)

Kurt Hummel trudged into the costume workshop attached to the theater department at NYU.  He wasn’t sure Rosie, who he was supposed to meet up with was even there yet, as it was ridiculous o’clock in the morning, but the back entrance door was open so he figured someone responsible was inside.

“hello?” Kurt called out.

“In the room with the sewing machines, back right hand door.” Kurt heard yelled back to him.

3) NaNoWriMo 2016 ------glee wip...again this year of nano was a failure...but that was because I was sick for most of it

The summer after Blaine’s massive meltdown and tantrum and the subsequent break-up was looking to be…difficult. Horrid. Soul crushing. Kurt saw no relief from it. There was no one to ease the feeling that somehow he was solely to blame. He had no one to talk to, really.  Artie blamed Kurt and wouldn’t give him the time of day.  He was the only one still in New York City. He hadn’t heard from Elliot or Dani since before he was bashed back in February…he remembered asking about why he hadn’t and getting a vague brushing off and then the bashing happened and then every moment was focused on Blaine again…making sure he wasn’t feeling inadequate or ignored. And no body at work spoke with him, at least not at the diner. 

4) CM-Glee cross --------Criminal minds Glee crossover WIP...I am determined to finish this and it’s companion fic...I will...at some point

If one had asked, which of course no one ever did, Spencer Reid would have actually told that anyone who’d asked that he would have rather been anywhere else than where he was.  He’d have liked to have had the opportunity to give some input, to have some options! Yes, he’d had some …issues, especially when things were dealing with teens, but it wasn’t like everyone else he worked with had always done everything exactly right each and every time either.  (Morgan and any pretty women they worked with in any way shape or form…for example. Hotch stopped Spencer from talking before he got that pointed out though.)  These weren’t even really teens, for the most part…at least not high school students. Out of the six deaths, only one was a student.  Spencer did not see the reason Hotch had stared at him the whole time he gave his lecture on not letting themselves get too emotionally involved.  Nor did he see why HE and HE alone had been left at the police station when they arrived. He was actually an agent, for Pete’s sake.

5)nanowrimo 2013 ------glee and criminal minds crossover WIP...yes you read that date right,however this ficis over 80000 words and I think could be finished quickly if I could just get past one fricking scene

After Kurt’s summer from hell, Kurt Hummel had hoped that things would be better for the school year, or at least the same things wouldn’t be bad.  He was really tired of the repetition of misery that was his life lately. However, when it came down to it, school had been going just like it had the year before.   Granted, he’d only been tossed into the dumpster once so far. (He suspected it was because he was harder to toss this year after putting on a few inches in height.)  However, the locker slams had become brutal again and slushies were still a routine.

6) why Kurt speaks fluent french ----I suck at titles. Glee WIP.  Somehow half what was written for this got lost...on some hard drive or flash drive was another 5000 to 10000 words, but I have not been able to find it so we spent a bit over the summer rewriting.

Elizabeth Hummel looked around the parking lot of Hill Side Elementary School, and wondered once again where the hill that she’d figured it was named after actually was.  It certainly wasn’t anywhere near the school.  False advertising…that ought to be a good reason not to have Kurt go to there, although she was pretty certain her husband would disagree.  Elizabeth hated the school.  She had hated it from the start, really…from the moment they got the letter in the mail that told them that due to the schools nearest them being under construction still and the next closest school being under renovation and so only being able to house half the students it generally did…her child was slated to go to Hill Side.

7) Kurtoberfest day 16 holiday recipes --- WIP, almost done, maybe, au where Finn is alive

Kurt remembers the day Finn Hudson’s career path was chosen.  Finn had come to New York to ‘hang’ with his brother and sneer at Rachel and torment Santana.  (Ok, Finn said he’d come to hang with Kurt, but he spent more time sneering at Rachel and tormenting Santana than hanging with Kurt, to the point of refusing to go site seeing to places Finn had wanted to see in favor of bugging the girls.) Kurt and Finn had been watching old comedies waiting for Rachel to get back so Finn could bug her when Kurt switched from Sister Act to Kindergarten Cop.  Finn had never seen Kindergarten Cop. Kurt was frankly dumbfounded about that fact, seriously.  Kindergarten Cop was like a staple of movie viewing.  Finn watched Kindergarten Cop with an intensity that Kurt had only ever seen him give to 45 buck steaks and a basketball ball game on TV once that Finn had bet 300 dollars on.  Finn didn’t even notice when Rachel came stomping into the loft and then left again.

8)Kurtoberfest prompt 17 harry potter au ---glee and HP crossover

When Harry Potter left Britain, and the wizarding world, he decided to run to someplace he could get lost in.  He beat dear old Voldie, he’d won the damned war for them, and all he got from it was fits from people who didn’t like how he did it…he should have used magic, not non-magical means and he certainly shouldn’t have used a snake to help…and proof of just how manipulative certain people had been in his life, which thankfully the goblins had helped him with after he proved to them he did not sign anything giving anyone means to form marriage and partnership contracts with anyone. Half the Weasley’s weren’t talking to him, and he was fine with that after finding out that Ginny had been feeding him love potions because he wasn’t responding the way she wanted and that Dumbledore had sold him off to her mom, essentially in trade for her pledging the aid of all her children to Dumbledore’s cause.   He also didn’t appreciate that Dumbledore had promised Harry’s magic to the ministry in exchange for the ministry turning a blind eye to certain things Dumbledore had done…like sealing his parents wills with no authority to do so.

9)  Severus Snape meets a Small Harry What If ----Harry PotterWIP one of like 8 with this name in my WIP folder.  This one has a big harry and a small harry and is a bit dark

As Severus Snape watched over Flitwick’s classroom, full of Gryffindor third years, he cursed the fact that the quarantine of a house also included their head of house.  He cursed the outbreak of – what was it…ah, yes… the Chicken Pox – some silly Muggle disease a first year had brought back with them after a family gathering during the short spring break which had spread through the Ravenclaws like a wildfire.

10) T and T Kurt....Glee WIP  Just how did Kurt’s tiara collection get started?

Elizabeth Hummel looked around the dressing room area of the pageant and briefly contemplated her sanity…or lack of…in getting involved with it all.  She was tired of the tantrums and whining and screaming done by both mothers and children.  Luckily her child wasn’t involved in any of that.  Her child was seated off to the side.

“Katerina Bates, please come stand by mummy.” Elizabeth called.

The child slid off the chair they were seated on and hopped over.

“Elli. Not Katerina.”

“Katerina today. You can be Elli tomorrow.”

Yeah....there were six other in that Kurtoberfest bunch being worked on, three other HP and three other CM fics..because I told myself I would finish a WIP this summer and my mind said NOPE, Will no concentrate on One. Nope Nope Nope.

Also wrote lines for beans  for Clever Jack and the Magic Beanstalk because of course the magic beans needed a whole mini scene song and dance number to themselves...of course they did.

[mrsbenedictbridgerton]

Fandom Crescendo: Not Quite A Coffee Shop AU

She needs a second job and The Library needs a barista. Who knew she would end up with more than free coffee?

Some fluff for your Saturday!

*ps spot the dumb plot mistake I made for a big thumbs up from me!

One Shot/4k-ish/also on ao3

The first time Emma Swan tastes coffee, she is six. Her foster mom leaves a cup unattended as she goes to answer the phone (one of those old kinds with the long, twirling cords that is attached to the wall). It’s bitter. And hot. It burns her tongue and she hates it.

***

When she is 14 it becomes cool to hang out at the coffee shop, drinking beverages that are more milk than anything else. She has a crush on the barista with the blue streak in his hair. He kisses her behind the store. He tastes like cigarettes. He asks her out on a date but doesn’t turn up at the fair.

She hates coffee again.

***

At 16, she meets Neal. He takes her to an empty fairground and buys her coffee. (The irony is not lost on her.) She sips and listens as he talks of home and wanting; she falls for him a little after only knowing him for a few hours. He’s real and vital and understands what it’s like: being alone. Feeling lost.

***

(She should have known it wouldn’t last. Then she’s alone again.)

***

Years later and it’s become her drug of choice on those cold nights where she needs to stay awake. Bail bonds isn’t glamorous, but it can be lucrative. It’s just unpredictable. Coffee… well, it isn’t. Even the instant kind that clings to the back of your throat has a strange kind of comfort when it’s 4 am and you’ve stared at the same door for six hours.

---------

In fairness, it wasn’t the worst second job. And the extra income meant no need to get a roommate.

(Less said about her foray into that, the better.)

And she is pretty good at it. Making coffee, that is.

For the past two weeks, three mornings a week and all day Sunday, she has worked the Electro, a beautiful retro-style piece of machinery, all glossy cream enamel and gleaming chrome. In the quiet moments she polishes the surfaces to a mirror-shine. She has a weird kinda pride in her work. Crafting the drinks is a skill, she’s learned, proportions and temperatures mingle with creative flair and ( she admits ) a passion. It helps that Belle is such a good boss, so encouraging and kind. Almost a friend, she’d hesitate to say.

(Not that Emma Swan really does friends, but that’s another story.)

***

It isn’t like he’s easy to miss. Tall, dark, handsome.

Easy on the eyes.

He must be a regular, she thinks, as she watches the man nod at Belle behind the counter, the owner of The Library scribbling down an order with only a smile passing between them.

Emma glances at him over the coffee machine; he’s brushing his hair back with his right hand, she can hear the soft crinkle of the leather of his jacket. She looks away as she takes the order from Belle. Large Americano. Easy. Quick.

(She’s a little disappointed. He’s gorgeous and she likes looking at his glossy dark hair and the pleasing line of his jaw.)

(The job has to have some perks. Beyond the free coffee.)

She carefully heats the water, monitoring the temperature so as not to scald the blend. Freshly ground beans fill the air with their thick aroma as she prepares one of the shop’s paper cups. As she reaches for a lid, she looks over again- sees that he is perusing one of the small stacks of books that Belle always kept about the place, his fingers running across the cloth cover of a particularly old volume.

(She tries not to imagine those fingers running over her bare skin.)

“Americano,” she calls out. Pointlessly, as he is the only customer waiting.

But the smile he gives her is worth it, warm, bright and wide; he nods as he picks up the cup and her heart beats just a little faster.

“Thanks love,” he murmurs, the hint of an accent coating his words

She wishes he would stay: that he was one of those who would sit for hours, reading the books, nursing their coffee.

Of course he isn’t, and a moment later he leaves.

***

She sees him again. And again.

There is no pattern to his visits. Different times and days. She wonders what he does. He always wears the black leather jacket that she saw him in the first time. Jeans, just the right side of tight, hug his hips. Sometimes he wears a shirt, sometimes a henley. Always orders the same. Americano. Black.

It’s on his third visit she sees he is missing his left hand, the prosthesis in its place is cleverly lifelike. She tries not to stare as her mind burns with curiosity.

She wants to know him.

The ninth time she sees him ( not that she is counting... ), she learns his name.

Killian, Belle chirps as he walks into the store. Emma watches him smile. She’s begun to live for that smile. The dimples that punctuate his cheeks and the even spread of this teeth. The way his lips stretch and curve. The little crinkles around his eyes.

It’s been a long time since she has had a crush.

(Crushes lead to feelings and situations that she has sworn to avoid.)

But she can’t deny it any more, this is a crush. A big one.

He gives her her own special smile when she slides the paper cup across the counter. A little smaller- more intimate. A soft thank you on his lips that makes her cheeks redden as she watches him leave.

Oh she loves to watch him leave.

The slight swagger in his walk, the confident bearing of his shoulders.

With a sigh, she files away that thought.

***

She knows little more than his name.

But she likes that. She can indulge herself in her attraction. He can be whoever she wants: a lover, a cad, a thinker. In those moments, where she is staking out a skip, sitting in her car until her fingers and toes turn to ice, she warms herself with fantasies of him.

Killian: her knight in shining armour. A bold, romantic hero who sweeps her off her feet. A man who offers her everything and more.

It’s a silly little fantasy, but she enjoys it all the same.

***

With a barely stifled yawn, she enters the shop. It’s just past 6:30 am and the Sunday streets are quiet and contemplative. Inside, it is silent as she pulls her apron from the cotton bag over her shoulder and slips off her jacket. Belle will be in the office, getting today’s till ready and it is Emma’s job to fire up the coffee machine and get the supplies for the day in order. She’s opening a fresh carton of milk when she hears footsteps.

“Hey Belle,” she calls.

“Hello.”

What...

She whips around, the milk splattering out of the carton and onto the floor.

His brow is raised, looking at her with amusement as her mouth falls open.

It’s him. Killian. With a standard issue Library apron around his waist and a bag of coins and bills in his hand.

It takes her a second to compose herself (and fight back the urge to blush- damn, he’s even more handsome with sleepy eyes and untamed hair).

“You’re not Belle,” she says, her words cautious as she sets down the carton and folds her arms.

“Observant,” he nods, placing the bag on the counter next to the milk, getting closer to her than he has even been without the oak barrier between them. She sucks in a breath that is painfully scented with a scent of soap and gentleman’s cologne. Then he shrugs. “She’s sick.”

Emma nods, taking in his words, forcing her attraction to the back of her mind as he goes about filling the till, still confused as fuck about what is happening.

“Right…” she hums while she tucks her hair behind her ears. She clears her throat. “And you…”

He looks up and something seems to click in his head. He wipes his hand on his apron and holds it out to her. “Killian Jones, partner in this business. Usually the silent one, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

She took his hand and shook it. It was large, engulfing hers and making her feel pathetically feminine while she digested the information. She’s always assumed Belle owned the place in full. Not that she’d ever asked.

While he finishes his task, she tidies up the floor, mopping up the milk in silence. The little glances his way are perhaps inappropriate, but she can’t help it. She’s taken by the way he uses his prosthesis with such finesse and ease and the sharp contrast between the flesh, real and artificial. Her eyes linger on the fine dark hairs of his forearms and the curve of his biceps that hints of hidden strength. The attraction burns brighter the longer she is near.

He’s finishing up as seven am - opening time - approaches.

“Emma, can you man the fort for a little, I have a few things to attend to.”

“You know my name?” she whispers, before she can think better off it.

( She is wearing a name badge… )

He gives her that same little smile he has before, his bottom lip briefly slipping between his teeth as he nods.

“Of course I do, love,” he replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

***

It’s not a one time thing.

A week later, he’s there again.

(“Belle needed the day off,” he explained.)

And then some days later, once more he is behind the counter. “I thought you were the silent partner?” she teases.

He just smiles.

Before she knows it, it’s a regular occurrence. At least once a week she works with him.

A friendship slowly forms.

She learns he works as deputy harbourmaster.

(Some days he smells like the sea, salty and fresh.)

He’s English by birth, but has lived in Boston for almost fifteen years.

He hates peas.

She tells him a little about her other job, working bail bonds. He seems impressed, making quips about making sure he stays in line.

He learns her favorite drink is cocoa. He starts making her one each time they work together, with fresh whipped cream and cinnamon on top just like she prefers. He has one ready for her when she arrives for work one morning…

(Her heart stutters…)

She tells him she was in foster care. He quietly tells her of his own losses.

Mostly, though, they work quietly side by side. With ease and harmony that just seems to click.  The shop never gets super busy, but the steady stream of customers make every shift speed by, leaving her with an unfamiliar sensation of longing and want when she takes off her apron and leaves for the short walk to her apartment.

Maybe she imagines the way his eyes follow her as she leaves, or the hint of melancholy as he says, “Goodbye Swan.”

(He’s insisted on calling her that since he learned her last name. Said it suited her. She doesn’t mind.)

Actually, she likes it. It is a thing: their thing.

She calls him Jones in reply.)

If she likes him, what’s the harm?

It’s a crush.

***

She’s an hour out of the city when she notices.

Her phone: gone, missing for she isn’t even sure how long. And she needs her goddamn phone.

Of course it isn’t in her apartment, which leaves only the coffee shop. She texts Belle.

Belle:

Oh Em, I’m out at the Cape right now. But Killian could swing by and open up for you.

Emma:

You sure?

Belle:

He won’t mind. Trust me. ;)

She’s dancing around from foot to foot outside The Library when she hears his clipped footsteps.

She shivers.

(Because it’s cold.)

“Evening Swan,” he says as he reaches her.

“Jones,” she nods, smiling despite herself. “Thanks for this,” she adds as he digs a bunch of keys from his pocket.

He looks over at her through his lashes and she swears he’s never looked sexier as he smirks. “As if I would turn down the chance to rescue a damsel in distress.”

“Please,” she pants, rolling her eyes even as her stomach contracts.

The door swings open and he allows her to move ahead. It’s dark inside, the blinds drawn, but there is enough light peeking through from the street lamps to allow her to find her way into the break room and locate her phone where it had slipped from her purse and between the cushions of the tiny couch there.

With a grimace, she sees the skip she was chasing has been apprehended. She shoves the phone into her pocket in frustration. A whole wasted evening.

“Alright love?” Killian asks as she enters the main area again.

She huffs out a sigh. “Just a job that didn’t work out. Happens a lot.”

Stuffing her hands in the pocket of her jacket, she pauses a moment. He’s staring at her, but she can’t find herself to mind. The sparse light provided by the optics cast a warm glow on his face. He seems deep in thought.

“Well,” she begins, already planning an evening of take out and crappy tv.

He steps forward, placing his hands on the countertop. “Fancy a drink? I find it always soothes a disappointment.”

Her shoulders lightly rise. “Coffee makes me wired.”

She watches as he raises a brow before reaching behind the counter and pulling out an almost full bottle of whiskey.

“How about I sweeten it?” he offers.

She bites her lip, a half second of doubt before she tosses back her head so her chin raises. “You get the glasses and I’ll make the coffee.”

Disappointment about the lost job fades as she heats up the Electro, grinding the beans and frothing up a pot of milk. The ritual is soothing. It occurs to her how important it has became in the past few months; providing order in her chaotic life. The hours of waiting for jobs and chasing down skips contrasting strongly with the regimen of grind, steam, pour .

It’s only when she sits down that she realizes that he has turned on the jukebox that Belle had installed in the shop: it’s a gentle stream of jazz. Easy. Soft. Killian pours a generous measure of whiskey into each glass.

“To the shit life brings,” he announces as he raises his drink.

Emma can’t help but smile as she tips her cup towards his.

“I hear ya.”

The whiskey gives the coffee a strange sweetness.

For a minute, she listens to the music as the liquor warms her belly. She writes off the lost skip. There will be another tomorrow. Always is.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

She offers him a crooked smile.

“Isn’t that cliche?”

He leans back a little. “Perhaps.”

She runs her tongue over her lips. Bitterness and sweetness mingle.

Pressed up against the front of her boots, her toes begin to cramp. She uses each opposite foot to ease them forward as she rests on her forearms. “I guess I’m just musing on the old ‘easy come, easy go’.”

“I take it your line of work isn’t always the simplest?”

She shrugs. “Well I’m working here aren’t I?” He doesn’t speak and she takes another sip. The drink settles pleasantly in her stomach. “It’s famine or feast. Some months I do great, others not. This job means at least I can pay for the basics when things get tough.”

Thoughtfully, he nods. She shrinks back a little when she realizes she has revealed a lot more about her circumstances.

Wracking her brain, she thinks of a change of topic.

“Um, but you. A coffee shop? What made you do… this?”

His eyes flicker closed and she feels she has hit a nerve. She wants to back track but his hands are circling his mug and he is drawing closer to her across the table before she can react.

“Long story?”

He wordlessly shrugs. Then he pours another measure of whiskey into each glass.

“I was a Navy lad, as was my older brother. Mother encouraged it, thought it would help us feel more American.” He rolls his eyes. He takes a sip.”Anyway, long story short, my brother died during a training exercise. Same time I did this.” He raises his left arm.

Emma reaches out a soothing hand but pauses before she reaches him. “He made me sole beneficiary of his life insurance. I used some of the money to buy an apartment when I left the service and then some time later Belle wanted to do this,” he gestures to the space around them, “And I offered to help.”

She raises her brows as her fingers find the sleeve of his shirt. “Wow, that’s. Wow. I take it you’re good friends?”

Nodding, he sighs softly. “Very. She helped me out when I left the service and was a little… lost? She volunteers at the Veterans Association, helping sods like me learn to be civilians. We just clicked.”

Oh , Emma thinks, her stomach crashing to the floor.

Clicked.

Like, they had something-

“So you two..?” she asks, her fingers curling back into her palm, her back straightening a little as she just feels foolish and silly and-

His eyes narrow. She can see he is thinking, until his eyes widen. “Belle and I?” He laughs warmly and while the sound softens the twist of her gut, it also reddens her cheeks-

(Or maybe that is the liquor.)

“She’s like a younger sister to me,” he explains, leaning forward a little. A lock of hair falls across his forehead. She wants to brush it back.

(Is it as soft as it seems? Would his eyes flicker closed at her touch? Would he lean into it, letting her palm press against his cheek?)

“Oh,” she says aloud.

“My dearest friend,” he adds, before frowning, “My only friend really.”

She sees the way he presses his eyes closed, like he wishes he hadn’t revealed that nugget of information. Emma softens. She sees herself in him, in a little lost.

“I’m a little low on the friend count too,” she admits. “Work, you know…”

Then she thinks better of that.

“Actually, that’s not strictly true. I guess I just take a while to warm up to people. To trust them.”

He quickly licks his lips and her heart jumps a little in her chest.

“I hope you can consider me a friend,” he whispers.

It only takes her a second to nod.

With that, Killian tilts his head, his eyes fixed on her. He picks up his cup and raises it.

“To new friends.”

She echoes the sentiment and tips her cup against his and then takes a sip.

They descend into silence, listening to the soothing music, the quiet comfortable and easy.

Without asking, Emma replenishes the coffees. He smiles in thanks.

Then they talk. And talk.

About everything and nothings. It’s easy and gentle and Emma feels herself clinging to every moment, lingering on every word he speaks, spellbound by his eloquence and wit.

Then she looks at the clock, and notices it’s almost ten pm.

“Wow, it’s getting late,” she reluctantly announces.

He simply nods, picking up their cups and taking them to the dishwasher as she shuts down the Electro and tidies up the work area.

It’s so cliche: they both make to leave through the small gap in the counter at the same time. Their hips clash. She blushes. He turns and then they are both caught in the small space. Her head falling back so she can look in his eyes.

God, she wants him to kiss her. She wants to feel that hand in her hair, for his other arm to pull her close.

And she’s sure she feels it from him, the pull, the tug-

But he hesitates. His eyes slipping between her eyes and her lips.

“Emma…” he says, his voice thick. “I’m your boss… This is…”

His words trail off. Her chin falls.

She gets it. He is (technically) her employer. This would probably break a rule or a law, right?

But then her reaches for that chin, and tips it up and her heart swells again with hope.

“But that’s not really it,” he added. “I’ve just been alone for so long.”

Emma hums in understanding. She’s lost track of just how long it’s been since her last (bad) relationship. “Me too,” she whispers.

His hand slips to her shoulder. “When I lost my first love, I was so sure no one could ever compare. But then I met you.”

Her heart began to stutter, a tingling in her limbs that made her body feel foreign. “You barely know me…”

“Perhaps,” he nods, “But to me you are an open book. A kindred spirit if you will.”

The comfort and ease she had felt with him: it was a mutual feeling. Like they were meant to know each other (as corny as that sounded).

“I know what you mean,” she smiles, tentatively placing her palms on his chest, letting them draw closer to each other. “I like you, Killian.”

And damn she feels like she is in sixth grade again telling Billy Cooper she has a crush on him-

But Billy Cooper didn’t smile at her the way Killian is, like she is the source of everything that is good with the world. A smile of happiness and hope and possibility.

“I like you too,” he drawls, his mouth falling to hers as the last word slips between his lips.

Soft lips. Softer than she could have imagined, gentle and tender at first, probing and a little unsure. An arm slips behind her back, fingers thread through her hair. His hips lock against hers, her ass pressing against the countertop. Her arms loop around his neck as she reaches up on her toes, chasing his kiss, her heart soaring as it turns more passionate. His tongue slides past her lips. His grip on her tightens. She’s breathless and lightheaded and it’s wonderful and crazy and unexpected-

Finally, he presses a small (reluctant) kiss against her lips. They both take deep breaths.

“That was…”

She grins.

(It’s definitely more than a crush.)

“Something we should explore elsewhere?” she suggests.

He raises a brow and she’s pretty sure it’s the sexiest thing she’s seen in forever.

“I like your thinking, Swan.”

And with that, he links their hands and they leave the cafe.

***

He wakes her with fresh coffee. She smiles at the taste of the familiar Library blend.

They spend the next day in bed, talking, laughing, exploring each other.

She likes him.

She likes him, a lot.

***

Soon, she sees him every day.

She’s as much at his place as hers.

Belle thinks it’s wonderful .

(Emma thinks he is wonderful.)

***

He tells her he’s in love with her one cold winter morning as they open up the cafe.

She echoes the sentiment with a promise-filled kiss and they seal their new feelings with an Americano and a cocoa. (Saving more for later-)

She’d never dreamed that needing to take on a second job could have led to this.

***

She definitely likes coffee again.

(Especially tasting it on his lips.)

[omgkatsudonplease]

The BtDS coffeeshop au, sing, goddess, where yuuri and yuuko do run a beachside seal cafe with views of the rookery, cafe of which viktor becomes a frequent patron! ♥

so robbie and nica and i were joking about cafes dedicated to the things we like and a concept for a seal cafe came up and…

The Katsudon Cafe is lit in shades of nautical blue, with wide bay windows stretching out towards the sea. Its deck has access to a small beach via a handsome silver-wood staircase, crusted with sand and aged with salt spray.

This beach is currently closed off for pupping season, so Viktor can only watch from a distance as the tide rolls in just short of the flippers of several large harbour seals and their pups, all of them sunning themselves in the sparse afternoon sunlight. His pen taps idly against the empty Moleskine on the table next to him; a light breeze stirs the pages as he contemplates the seals below.

Someone clears their throat next to him, and Viktor turns and looks up. Immediately his breath is stolen by the way the sunlight hits the soft features of the young man looking down at him. He smiles, and the young man returns it with a quirk of his rosebud lips as he sets a latte mug down in front of Viktor, his cheeks burning bright pink. 

“Thanks,” Viktor says, noticing the way the man’s seem to warm like the coffee in the mug in front of him. There’s a little Makkachin drawn into the foam; he can’t help but take a picture. “This is so cute!”

The man flushes harder, bobbing a little in thanks. His hands work for a moment before he seems to realise that Viktor can’t understand him, and he flushes harder before beating a hasty retreat across the deck into the cafe. Viktor watches him slip through the French doors with some semblance of regret, as it was probably due to his own cluelessness that the man can’t linger a little longer.

He turns his attention back to the latte. It is warm and smooth on his tongue.

Viktor returns to the cafe several times. It’s not far from his own cottage on Dean, after all, given its proximity to the little beach. The sheltered nature of the beach naturally makes it an excellent rookery for Torvill’s seal population, and so the Katsudon Cafe has earned a reputation on TripAdvisor as ‘the seal cafe’. 

All the proceeds from the cafe go to rescue and rehabilitation efforts for the Harbour Watch, so Viktor is all too glad to give them his money in return for Japanese-style pastries and coffee. The main proprietor of the shop, Yuuko Nishigori, has memorised his name by the second time he shows up, and the way he likes his coffee by the third. 

“Who’s the cute guy who helps you out?” Viktor asks after his fifth visit. Yuuko looks over at the young man, who’s got earbuds in as he wipes down some empty tables, and smiles. 

“Yuuri,” she says. “His family own the Yu-Topia resort. You know, he’s sort of a budding writer himself.”

“Really.” Viktor drums his fingers on the counter. Yuuko presses a button on the coffee grinder. The smell of fresh-ground beans fills the air. “What does he like to write?”

“I don’t really know. We bought some copies of the literary magazines he wrote for in uni, though? He had some short stories and poems in them.” She gestures towards the little reading corner with the soft armchairs and the book and magazine racks. “They’re in there somewhere.”

His latte comes, this time accompanied by a slice of tiramisu. Viktor takes a seat by the big bay window, looking out at the whitecaps and the wheeling gulls overhead, and thinks about the best ways to describe how the light caresses Yuuri’s back as he dances from table to table. 

On Viktor’s seventh visit, there’s a seal he hasn’t seen before on the beach, sunning himself a couple meters away from all the others. 

“That’s the Katsudon this cafe is named after,” one of Yuuko’s daughters tells him. Axel Nishigori is doodling with chunky crayons on the table next to his, while her sisters pore over something on a camera. 

“Yeah, he’s Torvill’s resident seal!” agrees Lutz, marking something on a piece of paper. Viktor has to marvel at today’s youth – when he was six, he barely knew how to write, let alone fill out a tide chart. “Momma says he’s twenty-three years old.”

“That’s really old for a seal,” says Viktor. 

“Yeah, he’s an old man.” Loop grins toothily at him. Viktor looks out over the deck railing again, at the seal who is now sprawled out supine against the sand, wriggling to try and get into a comfortable position. There’s a momentary pause as the seal seems to notice him watching, and then it turns on its side, wiggles a flipper, and flops back onto its back. 

Viktor’s not sure if the seal had intended to do that, but he’s fascinated all the same.

Yuuri’s there the next time Viktor visits, dutifully working behind the counter. “You’re not much of a talker, are you?” he asks, for lack of a better conversation starter. Yuuri flips the switch on the espresso machine before he shakes his head. 

“He’s mute,” Yuuko explains from where she’s rearranging the cute little seal-themed merchandising. A storm of tourists had come through earlier; Viktor had seen them crowding the deck to take pictures as he passed by the cafe with Makkachin. They’ve probably moved on into the town proper, and are tearing up the boardwalk now. Viktor’s glad he doesn’t have to deal with them. 

“Oh,” he says. “Is it a…”

“He’s been signing since childhood,” replies Yuuko. There’s a sudden loud hissing of the steam wand as Yuuri foams up the milk; Viktor can’t blame him for not wanting to hear any more talk about himself. 

He dredges up the very little knowledge he has about British Sign, and thanks Yuuri in it when the man brings it to his table. Yuuri flushes, and Viktor wishes he were an artist instead so he could capture the roses in Yuuri’s cheeks.

Viktor’s not stupid. He knows better than to flirt with someone on the job.

But he’s never seen Yuuri off the job, either. The man seems to be a ghost in this town, simultaneously everywhere, on everyone’s tongues, but not quite there.

Katsudon the seal, too, is also an engima like that.

(It takes Viktor a stupid amount of time to notice that neither Yuuri nor Katsudon have ever been seen alongside one another.)

“So, how’s Torvill treating you, Viktor?” Phichit Chulanont asks him as he comes by the cottage with boxes full of delivered groceries. Viktor helps him carry them into the kitchen, setting them on the table with a grin. Phichit snaps a picture of Makkachin lazing on the tile, and Viktor gins. 

“It’s been good,” he says. “I’ve been spending most of my time at the Katsudon Cafe, though.”

“I know,” says Phichit, because of course he does; Viktor’s only been in the town for three weeks and he already knows that Phichit Chulanont knows everything about everyone. “My best friend works there, actually! Yuuri Katsuki? Dark, brooding, and handsome?”

Viktor laughs at that. “You can say that again,” he says. Phichit giggles. 

“He and I both loved your book, The King and the Skater. Well, I mean, I liked it more than he did – he’s more of a fan of your poems, I think. Or was it one of the earlier novels? I don’t know, he’s bought like all of them.”

Viktor feels his ears heating up. “I heard he’s a writer?” he asks, mostly to deflect the attention. Phichit grins.

“Yeah, he’s really good! I first met him because he wrote my favourite Stuchai fanfic. But his original stuff is also amazing. He performed some sonnets of his at the arts festival last year, and everyone agreed that he was robbed when JJ Leroy won instead.”

Viktor looks out at the late afternoon sun glinting off the distant waves, at the distant shape of the cafe and its deck swarming with people clamouring for photos of Katsudon. Phichit seems to notice that too, as he clears his throat and grins at Viktor.

“Are you going to the dance on the boardwalk tonight?” Phichit asks suddenly. “I’m going to make sure Yuuri goes – he’s not a party person, but he’s also been locked in his room angsting about you for weeks, so –”

“Angsting about me?” echoes Viktor, wondering why his heart suddenly feels like it’s taken up too much room in his chest. Phichit laughs.

“Yeah he couldn’t work up the courage to ask if you’d be going, yourself. You know, because he knows you don’t know sign. So…”

“I’ll try my best,” says Viktor. “And I’ll be at the dance.”

Phichit’s grin widens. “I’ll be sure to let him know!”

When the sun begins to set, Viktor heads out for the boardwalk in a button down and light trousers, and comfortable shoes for dancing.

He passes by the cafe on his way down, though, and decides to stop in for some coffee. Yuuko’s husband Takeshi is manning the counter; neither Yuuko nor Yuuri are anywhere to be seen.

But when Viktor decides to go out to the deck, he notices a familiar mop of dark curls heading up the beach with something black clutched in their arms. Yuuri is clad in his swimming trunks with a towel draped over his shoulders, and even from here Viktor can make out the planes of his stomach and the sparkle of the sunlight against the water droplets coursing down his body.

Yuuri’s feet hit the staircase of the deck, and then he freezes almost comically at the sight of Viktor, a deep crimson blush staining his cheeks and moving downwards. The black thing drops out of his hands, slipping to the floor. It’s a seal pelt.

“Did you…?” Viktor asks. Yuuri hastily shakes his head. He bends down to pick it up; Viktor is greeted with the sight of a sinfully perky ass. “I thought the beach was closed to swimmers.”

Yuuri grimaces, makes a gesture Viktor interprets as ‘long story’, and starts to mount the staircase. Viktor’s stomach drops in anticipation, as his gloriously shirtless form draws closer and closer to him. 

“Are you going to the dance tonight?” he asks, stupidly, as Yuuri reaches him. The pelt sparkles in Yuuri’s grasp; the sunlight sparkles, too, in the water glistening in his hair. 

Yuuri nods. Viktor steps just a little closer. 

“Could we… maybe go together?” he asks, adding the sign for dance and pointing between the two of them for good measure.

Yuuri contemplates it, and then nods enthusiastically. the sealskin nearly dropping out of his hands in his eager assent. He clutches it harder then, and darts past him into the cafe. Viktor has to follow him quickly.

“I’ll wait for you, then?”

He gets a pause, a quick nod. The door swings as Yuuri vanishes behind the counter; moments later there’s the sound of water running from the back. Takeshi Nishgori chuckles at him.

“So, has Yuuri finally made a move?” he asks. Viktor blinks at him. 

“Sorry, finally?” he asks.

Takeshi laughs, shakes his head. “Well, it was about time,” he says. Viktor decides that the man’s being unhelpful, and orders a latte for the night. 

Yuuri comes back down just as he’s finishing up the cup, clad in a button-down with dark trousers and a set of braces, and Viktor swallows as he watches Yuuri examine his gelled-back hair in the mirror. 

“Ready to go?” he asks. Yuuri nods at him, taking his arm with a small smile. Viktor feels twenty times lighter, as he tosses a wave back at Takeshi and leads Yuuri out of the cafe, towards the boardwalk.

(It takes him a stupid amount of time to realise exactly why Yuuri would be swimming with a sealskin in his hands. But when he does, he groans in realisation, and the selkie lying next to him giggles quietly before raising himself on his elbows and kissing him.

“What the fuck,” Viktor declares. “I’m so fucking blind.”

‘I think you were distracted by other things at the time,’ Yuuri points out. 

“Don’t call me out like this,” Viktor whines, putting his face in his hands. 

Yuuri giggles, and kisses him again. The sealskin hangs on its hook by the kitchen door, next to Makkachin’s leash and Viktor’s mackintosh.)

[7aiguanlin]

flat white.

character: yoon jisung.

genre: fluff, café!au.

word count: 1408w.

summary: yoon jisung isn’t quite ready to be teased by his ten children about his relationship. (part 1/11 of the café series).

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for a good one and a half months, and surprisingly, this isn’t the piece that’s been rotting in my drafts the longest.

♡

“i just don’t understand why i can’t even go into my boyfriend’s café that he owns and say hi to him,” she says with a pout as he runs his fingers through the end of her hair at the end of the day.

it’s become routine to unwind at the end of the day– her with a novel and him with a manga. she often questions the lack of intellectual content in his reading choices, but she leaves his choices be nonetheless, because he runs his fingers through her hair as he reads and that’s enough to quell any of her concerns.

except for the concern that she and jisung have been dating for six months and he still hasn’t allowed her to visit him in his own café.

it’s not really a big deal– she just wants to get to know the boys beyond jisung’s stories.

jisung smacks his tongue against his teeth and lets out a sigh past pouted lips, setting down his book by his bedside table and opting to prop his chin on her shoulder. 

“i promise you, that you don’t want to walk into that mess,” jisung says, but in reality, he just doesn’t want his kids– excuse, employees– to tease him (just like he’s teased them countless times before over their crushes).

she looks at him pointedly, indicating that yes, because she thinks he’s over-exaggerating and even if he wasn’t, yes, she’s still willing to walk into that mess.

he chuckles, moving a hand down to intertwine with hers. his thumb rubs small circles into the junction between her thumb and pointer finger to distract her. “here, how about this? we can café hop tomorrow and at the end of the day, i’ll take you to my café and we can talk over your favorite cup of coffee.” 

when she takes two seconds contemplate, she sighs, because she knows he’s already won again.

♡

they leave that afternoon at promptly two, after jisung visits the café to make sure things are running smoothly. 

of course, he can’t leave until things are running smoothly and they almost never are when the kids aren’t under his supervision, so he has to take the time to help dust off seongwoo who had ground coffee bean dumped on him by guanlin. after that, he has to soften the red tint of mixed embarrassment, fluster, and anger on guanlin’s cheeks, telling seongwoo to leave guanlin and his crush on the university noona alone. he leaves them for minhyun to chastise, and then he leaves them on account of a family emergency.

as minhyun chastises guanlin and seongwoo, sungwoon discreetly pulls out his phone to text the boys on their off days.

♡

jisung swears he’s going crazy by the third café. at the first café, he swears he see someone with hair the exact same shade of red as woojin’s, but that’s impossible, because who has red hair in korea other than woojin? 

at the second café, he swears he sees daniel and his pink head of hair walk into the shoe store across the café they go to. 

by the third café, jisung’s having nightmares that the table they’re sitting at will begin to shake, and then, one by one, all ten kids that he takes care of and pays will slowly crawl out from underneath and pop into their date one by one.

“are you okay?” a melodic voice snaps jisung out of the horrendous scenario his imagination has just induced, and he offers her an assuring smile.

“of course i am! why wouldn’t i be?” he takes an extremely large bite of his muffin as she stares at him peculiarly, not buying his words at all but letting him slide because she knows he’ll cave into whatever is on his mind soon. he never lasts, so she just smiles as he offers her a bite of his muffin.

“do you want to just walk around after this? i’m getting full,” she says, and suddenly jisung remembers that she doesn’t have as bottomless of a stomach as the boys at the café do. those boys? they will gladly fight over the leftovers at the café at the end of the day as if they didn’t sneak croissants and coffee cake into the break room whenever the shop was busy. 

jisung smiles, and says okay, ignoring the nagging feeling in his gut that something is definitely off.

♡

after walking the streets of hongdae, spoiling his girlfriend plenty, and eating street dukkbokki for dinner, jisung leads her towards the final destination of their date night: zero degrees café. 

as the name states, the café provides a minimalistic ambience centered around the colors white and blue– various shades of it. yet, despite that, the café radiated a sense of comfort and serenity to those who entered it. 

he sits her down at the bar that he recently had installed, giving customers an all-access view of the handsome boys that worked at the café. in her case, her handsome boyfriend who owned the café. she props her chin atop the palm of her hand, watching as jisung made two cups of flat white coffee, peering on curiously as he’d gently tilt the cup in all directions while pouring the microfoam.

when the door bell chimes signaling an entrance, jisung barely looks up when he politely says, “we’re closed, sorry!” 

however, the only response he gets is, “so hyung! this is the girlfriend you’ve been hiding from us for six months!” she turns just in time to notice that it’s the shortest one that proclaims so.

a boy with actor like visuals that has her jaw nearly drop high-fives the pink-haired boy, with a smirk on his lips. “i told you that he lied about why he had to leave early.”

“yeah, jisung hyung! you left me all day to be ridiculed by seongwoo hyung about– about–” the tallest boy suddenly stops mid-sentence and looks off to his side, right cheek burying into his left shoulder. 

“i can’t believe you’ve been teasing all of us about our existent or non-existent love lives only to hide yours from us,” a boy with a small face and sharp features remarks, lips twisted in disamusement. 

jisung lets out a long sigh as he walks around the table to serve her her coffee, which is decorated with a graceful swan. she can see the slightly smudged tip of the tail that jisung must’ve been working on when he heard the voice of his employees, and she chuckles as she snaps a picture. 

“i knew my horrible feeling was right when i saw daniel’s pink head walk into the shoe store across dugeun café,” he sits down beside her with a slight pout on his face, before headdesking onto her shoulder in grievance. 

“wahhh, hyung, noona is pretty!” a cheerful boy bounds up to take a seat beside her, smiling brightly as he holds out his hand. “i’m lee daehwi!” 

his bright smile is contagious as she finds one making its way on her own lips, and she shakes his hand whilst introducing herself. his shake is enthusiastic, and his smile never fades from his face. 

“nice to meet you! the one with pink hair is daniel hyung, red hair is woojin hyung, tall one is guanlin, short one is sungwoon–”

“hey!”

“we can introduce ourselves, daehwi,” another boy with the eyes of a fox chuckles, before introducing himself. “i’m minhyun.”

“and i’m jisung, i’m on a date with my girlfriend, can you all please leave now?” jisung mumbles from the comforts of her shoulder, finally rising and looking at the boys with a joking motherly disapproval.

“no way!” woojin says, going to sit next to jisung and taking a sip of his coffee. “this isn’t your usual order, hyung–”

“let them stay, jisung! they’re cute,” she laughs as the rest of the boys surround the car on both sides. “and i can’t believe they had to stalk us on our date to find out about my existence,” she continues, flicking his head.

jisung lets out a small whine, swiping his coffee back from woojin and sulking as his girlfriend engages in conversation with the rest of his employees. yet, as he drinks his warm coffee, there’s another warmth at the pit of his stomach, coming from the way his girlfriend had easily assimilated herself into the group of employees that he had found a family in.

[calamity-bean]

I already posted a few TURN recs, but as I was making those, I realized there are just SO MANY I wanted to rec that — although each story is deserving of its own post — perhaps it would be more useful to readers and allow me to cover more bases if I simply made a list. This does not include those that got their own posts, so if you didn’t see those, check them out, too!

To be honest, I’ve always been hesitant to put together a rec list for TURN because I worry that I’m going to forget something or someone who deserves to be included. But I reckon that shouldn’t stop me from trying, so I’ve done my best to think back and collect some of my all-time favorite works in this fandom — some recent, some going all the way back to season 2. I hope y’all find some new gems to enjoy and show the authors some love. ❤

Probably should have called this the Annlett Rec List, though, because ... pretty much every one at least has background radiation of Annlett. Surprise, surprise.

The following by idiotequed ( @deflect​​ ):

Tidal Equations — If memory serves, this was like the very first TURN fic I ever read, back in the mid-season 2 days when I was just getting obsessed and there were only like five fics in the Annlett tag. It is still dear to my heart. There’s science and nature and horseshoe crabs and it is just so cute and in-character and good!

Dearest Mother — Also one of the first I read, and it still kills me. Epistolary fic narrated in Edmund’s head during his imprisonment.

The Third Sphere of Heaven — Alas, only the first chapter, but that first chapter is still worth a read!

The following by khlassique ( @capetian​ ):

binary stars — “It is just them, and the water, and the stars” — a chance run-in between Anna and Edmund at night.

show me the way to heaven’s gate — Mary contemplates Abe and marriage and Anna and it’s so lovely and sad and good!!!

The following by @mercurygray​​:

Yankee Doodle Doughboy — aka, the Turn WWI AUs! TURN. PLUS WWI. ENOUGH SAID. Some adorable Annlett interludes in Paris, and lots of good wartime Ben.

A Heavy Inheritance — Anna and Edmund raising a gaggle of children (named after astronomical phenomena) in Scotland, like they still SHOULD, dammit.

Teach Me to Fall by @conchord​​ Anna + Edmund + harpsichord = ROMANCE. It is known. A beautifully written and sensual encounter between Anna and Edmund while the rest of Whitehall is asleep.

no sense in hiding from the front lines by simplyprologue ( @ofhouseadama​ ) A series of stories, all lovely, following Edmund and Anna after a reunion on the battlefield, featuring hurt/comfort and rekindled love and SWORDFIGHTING ANNA. Need I say more??

Bliss, Joy, and Happiness by dreamcager A series about Anna and Edmund falling in love again via letter and arranging to reunite years after their parting. The first is an epistolary fic, the second prose, and both forms suit the content really well.

Carried by Pail and Back by @itsclydebitches​ Papa Hewlett!! Papa Hewlett and Mama Anna and HAPPINESS. 

Adrift by Oblivion_Wanderer ( @brittleskyblue​ ) Not strictly Annlett, but if there’s one thing I love almost as much as Edmund with Anna, it’s Edmund having an awkward road-trip with Caleb and Ben!

In this Palace of dim night by Le_Creationist ( @le-petit-creationist​ ) This beautifully written WIP follows Anna’s life from childhood onward, to her marriage with Selah and aiming toward Annlett, and it is so sad and sweet and lovely all at once. Unfinished, but what’s up is definitely worth a read!

Law & Order & Authori[tea] by @calamity-bean Yes, I’m being gross and adding my own fic to this list, cause hey, if I’m gonna make a list of Annlett fics, I may as well. Modern coffeeshop (well, tea shop) AU in which Anna and Edmund make a pretty bad first impression on each other but slowly come together as each tries to figure out what they want from life and what they’re willing to give for it.

[mrsbenedictbridgerton]

Not Quite a Coffee Shop AU

From a suggestion from @wordsmith-storyweaver

3.8k words of something

Also on AO3

She needs a second job and The Library needs a barista. Who knew she would end up with more than free coffee...

The first time Emma Swan tastes coffee, she is six. Her foster mom leaves a cup unattended as she goes to answer the phone (one of those old kinds with the long, twirling cords that is attached to the wall). It’s bitter. And hot. It burns her tongue and she hates it.

***

When she is 14 it becomes cool to hang out at the coffee shop, drinking beverages that are more milk than anything else. She has a crush on the barista with the blue streak in his hair. He kisses her behind the store. He tastes like cigarettes. He asks her out on a date but doesn’t turn up at the fair.

She hates coffee again.

***

At 16, she meets Neal. He takes her to an empty fairground and buys her coffee. (The irony is not lost on her.) She sips and listens as he talks of home and wanting; she falls for him a little after only knowing him for a few hours. He’s real and vital and understands what it’s like: being alone. Feeling lost.

***

(She should have known it wouldn’t last. Then she’s alone again.)

***

Years later and it’s become her drug of choice on those cold nights where she needs to stay awake. Bail bonds isn’t glamorous, but it can be lucrative. It’s just unpredictable. Coffee… well, it isn’t. Even the instant kind that clings to the back of your throat has a strange kind of comfort when it’s 4 am and you’ve stared at the same door for six hours.

***

In fairness, it wasn’t the worst second job. And the extra income meant no need to get a roommate.

(Less said about her foray into that, the better.)

And she is pretty good at it. Making coffee, that is.

For the past two weeks, three mornings a week and all day Sunday, she has worked the Electro, a beautiful retro-style piece of machinery, all glossy cream enamel and gleaming chrome. In the quiet moments she polishes the surfaces to a mirror-shine. She has a weird kinda pride in her work. Crafting the drinks is a skill, she’s learned, proportions and temperatures mingle with creative flair and (she admits) a passion. It helps that Belle is such a good boss, so encouraging and kind. Almost a friend, she’d hesitate to say.

(Not that Emma Swan really does friends, but that’s another story.)

***

It isn’t like he’s easy to miss. Tall, dark, handsome.

Easy on the eyes.

He must be a regular, she thinks, as she watches the man nod at Belle behind the counter, the owner of The Library scribbling down an order with only a smile passing between them.

Emma glances at him over the coffee machine; he’s brushing his hair back with his right hand, she can hear the soft crinkle of the leather of his jacket. She looks away as she takes the order from Belle. Large Americano. Easy. Quick.

(She’s a little disappointed. He’s gorgeous and she likes looking at his glossy dark hair and the pleasing line of his jaw.)

(The job has to have some perks. Beyond the free coffee.)

She carefully heats the water, monitoring the temperature so as not to scald the blend. Freshly ground beans fill the air with their thick aroma as she prepares one of the shop’s paper cups. As she reaches for a lid, she looks over again- sees that he is perusing one of the small stacks of books that Belle always kept about the place, his fingers running across the cloth cover of a particularly old volume.

(She tries not to imagine those fingers running over her bare skin.)

“Americano,” she calls out. Pointlessly, as he is the only customer waiting.

But the smile he gives her is worth it, warm, bright and wide; he nods as he picks up the cup and her heart beats just a little faster.

“Thanks love,” he murmurs, the hint of an accent coating his words

She wishes he would stay: that he was one of those who would sit for hours, reading the books, nursing their coffee.

Of course he isn’t, and a moment later he leaves.

***

She sees him again. And again.

There is no pattern to his visits. Different times and days. She wonders what he does. He always wears the black leather jacket that she saw him in the first time. Jeans, just the right side of tight, hug his hips. Sometimes he wears a shirt, sometimes a henley. Always orders the same. Americano. Black.

It’s on his third visit she sees he is missing his left hand, the prosthesis in its place is cleverly lifelike. She tries not to stare as her mind burns with curiosity.

She wants to know him.

The ninth time she sees him (not that she is counting...), she learns his name.

Killian, Belle chirps as he walks into the store. Emma watches him smile. She’s begun to live for that smile. The dimples that punctuate his cheeks and the even spread of this teeth. The way his lips stretch and curve. The little crinkles around his eyes.

It’s been a long time since she has had a crush.

(Crushes lead to feelings and situations that she has sworn to avoid.)

But she can’t deny it any more, this is a crush. A big one.

He gives her her own special smile when she slides the paper cup across the counter. A little smaller- more intimate. A soft thank you on his lips that makes her cheeks redden as she watches him leave.

Oh she loves to watch him leave.

The slight swagger in his walk, the confident bearing of his shoulders.

With a sigh, she files away that thought.

***

She knows little more than his name.

But she likes that. She can indulge herself in her attraction. He can be whoever she wants: a lover, a cad, a thinker. In those moments, where she is staking out a skip, sitting in her car until her fingers and toes turn to ice, she warms herself with fantasies of him.

Killian: her knight in shining armour. A bold, romantic hero who sweeps her off her feet. A man who offers her everything and more.

It’s a silly little fantasy, but she enjoys it all the same.

***

With a barely stifled yawn, she enters the shop. It’s just past 6:30 am and the Sunday streets are quiet and contemplative. Inside, it is silent as she pulls her apron from the cotton bag over her shoulder and slips off her jacket. Belle will be in the office, getting today’s till ready and it is Emma’s job to fire up the coffee machine and get the supplies for the day in order. She’s opening a fresh carton of milk when she hears footsteps.

“Hey Belle,” she calls.

“Hello.”

What...

She whips around, the milk splattering out of the carton and onto the floor.

His brow is raised, looking at her with amusement as her mouth falls open.

It’s him. Killian. With a standard issue Library apron around his waist and a bag of coins and bills in his hand.

It takes her a second to compose herself (and fight back the urge to blush- damn, he’s even more handsome with sleepy eyes and untamed hair).

“You’re not Belle,” she says, her words cautious as she sets down the carton and folds her arms.

“Observant,” he nods, placing the bag on the counter next to the milk, getting closer to her than he has even been without the oak barrier between them. She sucks in a breath that is painfully scented with a scent of soap and gentleman’s cologne. Then he shrugs. “She’s sick.”

Emma nods, taking in his words, forcing her attraction to the back of her mind as he goes about filling the till, still confused as fuck about what is happening.

“Right…” she hums while she tucks her hair behind her ears. She clears her throat. “And you…”

He looks up and something seems to click in his head. He wipes his hand on his apron and holds it out to her. “Killian Jones, partner in this business. Usually the silent one, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

She took his hand and shook it. It was large, engulfing hers and making her feel pathetically feminine while she digested the information. She’s always assumed Belle owned the place in full. Not that she’d ever asked.

While he finishes his task, she tidies up the floor, mopping up the milk in silence. The little glances his way are perhaps inappropriate, but she can’t help it. She’s taken by the way he uses his prosthesis with such finesse and ease and the sharp contrast between the flesh, real and artificial. Her eyes linger on the fine dark hairs of his forearms and the curve of his biceps that hints of hidden strength. The attraction burns brighter the longer she is near.

He’s finishing up as seven am - opening time - approaches.

“Emma, can you man the fort for a little, I have a few things to attend to.”

“You know my name?” she whispers, before she can think better off it.

(She is wearing a name badge…)

He gives her that same little smile he has before, his bottom lip briefly slipping between his teeth as he nods.

“Of course I do, love,” he replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

***

It’s not a one time thing.

A week later, he’s there again.

(“Belle needed the day off,” he explained.)

And then some days later, once more he is behind the counter. “I thought you were the silent partner?” she teases.

He just smiles.

Before she knows it, it’s a regular occurrence. At least once a week she works with him.

A friendship slowly forms.

She learns he works as deputy harbourmaster.

(Some days he smells like the sea, salty and fresh.)

He’s English by birth, but has lived in Boston for almost fifteen years.

He hates peas.

She tells him a little about her other job, working bail bonds. He seems impressed, making quips about making sure he stays in line.

He learns her favorite drink is cocoa. He starts making her one each time they work together, with fresh whipped cream and cinnamon on top just like she prefers. He has one ready for her when she arrives for work one morning…

(Her heart stutters…)

She tells him she was in foster care. He quietly tells her of his own losses.

Mostly, though, they work quietly side by side. With ease and harmony that just seems to click.  The shop never gets super busy, but the steady stream of customers make every shift speed by, leaving her with an unfamiliar sensation of longing and want when she takes off her apron and leaves for the short walk to her apartment.

Maybe she imagines the way his eyes follow her as she leaves, or the hint of melancholy as he says, “Goodbye Swan.”

(He’s insisted on calling her that since he learned her last name. Said it suited her. She doesn’t mind.)

Actually, she likes it. It is a thing: their thing.

She calls him Jones in reply.)

If she likes him, what’s the harm?

It’s a crush.

***

She’s an hour out of the city when she notices.

Her phone: gone, missing for she isn’t even sure how long. And she needs her goddamn phone.

Of course it isn’t in her apartment, which leaves only the coffee shop. She texts Belle.

Belle:

Oh Em, I’m out at the Cape right now. But Killian could swing by and open up for you.

Emma:

You sure?

Belle:

He won’t mind. Trust me. ;)

She’s dancing around from foot to foot outside The Library when she hears his clipped footsteps.

She shivers.

(Because it’s cold.)

“Evening Swan,” he says as he reaches her.

“Jones,” she nods, smiling despite herself. “Thanks for this,” she adds as he digs a bunch of keys from his pocket.

He looks over at her through his lashes and she swears he’s never looked sexier as he smirks. “As if I would turn down the chance to rescue a damsel in distress.”

“Please,” she pants, rolling her eyes even as her stomach contracts.

The door swings open and he allows her to move ahead. It’s dark inside, the blinds drawn, but there is enough light peeking through from the street lamps to allow her to find her way into the break room and locate her phone where it had slipped from her purse and between the cushions of the tiny couch there.

With a grimace, she sees the skip she was chasing has been apprehended. She shoves the phone into her pocket in frustration. A whole wasted evening.

“Alright love?” Killian asks as she enters the main area again.

She huffs out a sigh. “Just a job that didn’t work out. Happens a lot.”

Stuffing her hands in the pocket of her jacket, she pauses a moment. He’s staring at her, but she can’t find herself to mind. The sparse light provided by the optics cast a warm glow on his face. He seems deep in thought.

“Well,” she begins, already planning an evening of take out and crappy tv.

He steps forward, placing his hands on the countertop. “Fancy a drink? I find it always soothes a disappointment.”

Her shoulders lightly rise. “Coffee makes me wired.”

She watches as he raises a brow before reaching behind the counter and pulling out an almost full bottle of whiskey.

“How about I sweeten it?” he offers.

She bites her lip, a half second of doubt before she tosses back her head so her chin raises. “You get the glasses and I’ll make the coffee.”

Disappointment about the lost job fades as she heats up the Electro, grinding the beans and frothing up a pot of milk. The ritual is soothing. It occurs to her how important it has became in the past few months; providing order in her chaotic life. The hours of waiting for jobs and chasing down skips contrasting strongly with the regimen of grind, steam, pour.

It’s only when she sits down that she realizes that he has turned on the jukebox that Belle had installed in the shop: it’s a gentle stream of jazz. Easy. Soft. Killian pours a generous measure of whiskey into each glass.

“To the shit life brings,” he announces as he raises his drink.

Emma can’t help but smile as she tips her cup towards his.

“I hear ya.”

The whiskey gives the coffee a strange sweetness.

For a minute, she listens to the music as the liquor warms her belly. She writes off the lost skip. There will be another tomorrow. Always is.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

She offers him a crooked smile.

“Isn’t that cliche?”

He leans back a little. “Perhaps.”

She runs her tongue over her lips. Bitterness and sweetness mingle.

Pressed up against the front of her boots, her toes begin to cramp. She uses each opposite foot to ease them forward as she rests on her forearms. “I guess I’m just musing on the old ‘easy come, easy go’.”

“I take it your line of work isn’t always the simplest?”

She shrugs. “Well I’m working here aren’t I?” He doesn’t speak and she takes another sip. The drink settles pleasantly in her stomach. “It’s famine or feast. Some months I do great, others not. This job means at least I can pay for the basics when things get tough.”

Thoughtfully, he nods. She shrinks back a little when she realizes she has revealed a lot more about her circumstances.

Wracking her brain, she thinks of a change of topic.

“Um, but you. A coffee shop? What made you do… this?”

His eyes flicker closed and she feels she has hit a nerve. She wants to back track but his hands are circling his mug and he is drawing closer to her across the table before she can react.

“Long story?”

He wordlessly shrugs. Then he pours another measure of whiskey into each glass.

“I was a Navy lad, as was my older brother. Mother encouraged it, thought it would help us feel more American.” He rolls his eyes. He takes a sip.”Anyway, long story short, my brother died during a training exercise. Same time I did this.” He raises his left arm.

Emma reaches out a soothing hand but pauses before she reaches him. “He made me sole beneficiary of his life insurance. I used some of the money to buy an apartment when I left the service and then some time later Belle wanted to do this,” he gestures to the space around them, “And I offered to help.”

She raises her brows as her fingers find the sleeve of his shirt. “Wow, that’s. Wow. I take it you’re good friends?”

Nodding, he sighs softly. “Very. She helped me out when I left the service and was a little… lost? She volunteers at the Veterans Association, helping sods like me learn to be civilians. We just clicked.”

Oh, Emma thinks, her stomach crashing to the floor.

Clicked.

Like, they had something-

“So you two..?” she asks, her fingers curling back into her palm, her back straightening a little as she just feels foolish and silly and-

His eyes narrow. She can see he is thinking, until his eyes widen. “Belle and I?” He laughs warmly and while the sound softens the twist of her gut, it also reddens her cheeks-

(Or maybe that is the liquor.)

“She’s like a younger sister to me,” he explains, leaning forward a little. A lock of hair falls across his forehead. She wants to brush it back.

(Is it as soft as it seems? Would his eyes flicker closed at her touch? Would he lean into it, letting her palm press against his cheek?)

“Oh,” she says aloud.

“My dearest friend,” he adds, before frowning, “My only friend really.”

She sees the way he presses his eyes closed, like he wishes he hadn’t revealed that nugget of information. Emma softens. She sees herself in him, in a little lost.

“I’m a little low on the friend count too,” she admits. “Work, you know…”

Then she thinks better of that.

“Actually, that’s not strictly true. I guess I just take a while to warm up to people. To trust them.”

He quickly licks his lips and her heart jumps a little in her chest.

“I hope you can consider me a friend,” he whispers.

It only takes her a second to nod.

With that, Killian tilts his head, his eyes fixed on her. He picks up his cup and raises it.

“To new friends.”

She echoes the sentiment and tips her cup against his and then takes a sip.

They descend into silence, listening to the soothing music, the quiet comfortable and easy.

Without asking, Emma replenishes the coffees. He smiles in thanks.

Then they talk. And talk.

About everything and nothings. It’s easy and gentle and Emma feels herself clinging to every moment, lingering on every word he speaks, spellbound by his eloquence and wit.

Then she looks at the clock, and notices it’s almost ten pm.

“Wow, it’s getting late,” she reluctantly announces.

He simply nods, picking up their cups and taking them to the dishwasher as she shuts down the Electro and tidies up the work area.

It’s so cliche: they both make to leave through the small gap in the counter at the same time. Their hips clash. She blushes. He turns and then they are both caught in the small space. Her head falling back so she can look in his eyes.

God, she wants him to kiss her. She wants to feel that hand in her hair, for his other arm to pull her close.

And she’s sure she feels it from him, the pull, the tug-

But he hesitates. His eyes slipping between her eyes and her lips.

“Emma…” he says, his voice thick. “I’m your boss… This is…”

His words trail off. Her chin falls.

She gets it. He is (technically) her employer. This would probably break a rule or a law, right?

But then her reaches for that chin, and tips it up and her heart swells again with hope.

“But that’s not really it,” he added. “I’ve just been alone for so long.”

Emma hums in understanding. She’s lost track of just how long it’s been since her last (bad) relationship. “Me too,” she whispers.

His hand slips to her shoulder. “When I lost my first love, I was so sure no one could ever compare. But then I met you.”

Her heart began to stutter, a tingling in her limbs that made her body feel foreign. “You barely know me…”

“Perhaps,” he nods, “But to me you are an open book. A kindred spirit if you will.”

The comfort and ease she had felt with him: it was a mutual feeling. Like they were meant to know each other (as corny as that sounded).

“I know what you mean,” she smiles, tentatively placing her palms on his chest, letting them draw closer to each other. “I like you, Killian.”

And damn she feels like she is in sixth grade again telling Billy Cooper she has a crush on him-

But Billy Cooper didn’t smile at her the way Killian is, like she is the source of everything that is good with the world. A smile of happiness and hope and possibility.

“I like you too,” he drawls, his mouth falling to hers as the last word slips between his lips.

Soft lips. Softer than she could have imagined, gentle and tender at first, probing and a little unsure. An arm slips behind her back, fingers thread through her hair. His hips lock against hers, her ass pressing against the countertop. Her arms loop around his neck as she reaches up on her toes, chasing his kiss, her heart soaring as it turns more passionate. His tongue slides past her lips. His grip on her tightens. She’s breathless and lightheaded and it’s wonderful and crazy and unexpected-

Finally, he presses a small (reluctant) kiss against her lips. They both take deep breaths.

“That was…”

She grins.

(It’s definitely more than a crush.)

“Something we should explore elsewhere?” she suggests.

He raises a brow and she’s pretty sure it’s the sexiest thing she’s seen in forever.

“I like your thinking, Swan.”

And with that, he links their hands and they leave the cafe.

***

He wakes her with fresh coffee. She smiles at the taste of the familiar Library blend.

They spend the next day in bed, talking, laughing, exploring each other.

She likes him.

She likes him, a lot.

***

Soon, she sees him every day.

She’s as much at his place as hers.

Belle thinks it’s wonderful.

(Emma thinks he is wonderful.)

***

He tells her he’s in love with her one cold winter morning as they open up the cafe.

She echoes the sentiment with a promise-filled kiss and they seal their new feelings with an Americano and a cocoa. (Saving more for later-)

She’d never dreamed that needing to take on a second job could have led to this.

***

She definitely likes coffee again.

(Especially tasting it on his lips.)

 For @nickillian as she loves coffee shop aus and @villains-happy-ending as it’s the day of her birth and I’ve included almost zero angst for her!