#It drove me absolutely up the wall that they switched the characters hair colors like that

[aussied]

I'm cosplaying as Book!Percy Jackson at a con I'm going to soon and if people come up to me and call me Luke I'm gonna launch myself into the sun

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Touch it for Real, Part 9

Genre: Humor / Fluff / Angst / (Eventual) Smut 18+

Warnings: OMG they were roommates / slice of life / slow burn / mutual pining / crude humor / cursing / virgin!baek / idiots to lovers / unresolved sexual tension

Characters: Baekhyun X You/Female Reader

Description: You teach Baekhyun how to date. (Basically the Get You Alone M/V)

A/N: DO NOT YELL AT ME! It is going to be okay. 

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8  , Part 9 , Part 10

You had a secret.

For such an abstract and shapeless thing you could sure feel it sitting in there.

It was pulsing.

Your secret felt like a splinter lodged just under a single taste bud that sat in the center of your tongue. You could feel your white blood cells attacking it, trying their best to push it up and push it out, but still it clung tight with its sharp barbs lodged within your cell walls. You brushed your tongue against your teeth.

The secret did not budge.

What you knew about them though, was that secrets did not like to stay hidden forever.

Your fork slipped and clanked noisily against the ceramic plate and the bright orange carrot ball rolled across the smooth white surface nearly sliding over the edge onto the white linen. Whoever decided that your steamed vegetables needed to be shaped into spheres simply for aesthetics should be forced to come out here and explain how you were supposed to spear one of these things while also avoiding the risk of it shooting across the table and hitting your date in the face.

Ben turned out to be very nice. If you were into tall, handsome, clean-looking, and responsible guys who drove their own cars and also had things like health insurance and retirement plans. When you first saw him, you were struck by the firmness you felt when he shook your hand and smiled brightly at you. He had all of his teeth and a head full of hair. He was definitely walking around on his real legs too. He looked like the kind of guy who didn’t let the clean laundry sit in the dryer for longer than a day and changed out his toothbrush every three months. You couldn't see a single fault.

You were trying your best to make a good first impression.

Really, you were.

Well, while also keeping an eye on Baekhyun who sat beside you with his focus down on his plate as he sliced his food into bite sized bits. His control of the fork and knife felt so careful and so exacting, it neared obsession. He had not ordered the steamed vegetables. None of his food rolled.

Across from him, looking just as cute in person as her online dating profile pictures conveyed, was Mia.

Mia was fine.

She was fine.

You didn't want to get into it.

Her clothes were fine. They were exactly the kinds of clothes you had expected she would wear.

Her hair was fine.

She actually had a hairstyle that reminded you of one of the characters in an anime you watched with Baekhyun once and you wondered about the upkeep costs of that particular shade of blue that streaked through her hair. You wondered if she had to switch to blue towels and blue pillow cases or if everything in her house was just stained forever.

Baekhyun’s cheeks blushed when he shook her hand and his smile was bashful, if not a bit tight when she complimented his glasses. Your mind briefly considered the plush, expensive white towels you both owned at home and a flash of horror overcame you for a split second when you imagined those towels streaked with a blue stain from the shower.

He bought those glasses at a store. Anyone can go to the store and buy glasses. Did such a superficial compliment really warrant such a deep shade of pink on his cheeks?

You took a sip of your glass of wine and the sweet, cool liquid had a tart aftertaste that lingered on your taste buds long after you swallowed and you stabbed roughly at the runaway carrot again, impaling it with the prongs of your fork.

Finally.

“I got it,” you said out loud to yourself with a wide smile and you held your prize up in front of your face for a second. Long enough for your eyes to drift across your table to meet Ben’s and you caught the soft amused chuckle that puffed from his nose.

You’d already gotten through the backstory. Starting with the curious question from Mia about how you and Baekhyun got to know each other and you took a quick glance toward Ben as Baekhyun explained that you and he had been roommates for a couple of years. You caught the slight smile on Ben’s lips as he looked down into his water glass and you wondered if he was pleased that he already knew the answer to this question as you had been quick to tell him this important detail about your life as you chatted with him during the last week or so.

Mia on the other hand simply let her eyes drift over from Baekhyun’s face to land on yours for a moment and you offered a disarming smile by way of explanation. Not that either of you had any explaining to do. You could live with whoever you wanted to live with. It took her ten seconds to return your smile, although you didn't quite believe it, or believe that she was done with her curiosities about this topic.

You couldn't really blame her although you’d given her nothing to be suspicious about. Not in the last 20 minutes since you’d all arrived and nibbled on shared appetizers, at least.

Hell, you hadn’t even touched him all day. From before you both arrived at this fancy restaurant and just relinquished your coats to some stranger simply because she held a hand out and sported a severe enough hairdo and manic look in her eyes that was too frightening to question. From the morning when you woke up and wandered into your kitchen to make toast for one and you ignored the sound of his feet shuffling in, half-asleep to grab a yogurt from the fridge. You hadn’t even helped him style his hair; which looked stunning, by the way, with the waves and the faded brown color that absolutely looked like something the perfect boyfriend would let you play with as he laid on your lap. He hadn’t even asked for your help picking out his outfit. He’d simply done it all on his own and waited for you by the front door wearing those jeans and smelling like that familiar scent that he bought for your date with him weeks back.

When had this all become so awkward? You’d never been afraid to touch Baekhyun before but now, well, the touches hadn’t ever concealed quite so much meaning before.

By the time the entrees arrived the conversations had moved on to hobbies and interests.

Ben was a movie buff, and his favorites were mostly mainstream blockbusters of the Marvel Superhero variety. He enjoyed many of the genres of films you’d mostly seen just the previews of. His top ten contained a bit more horror than you were comfortable with. One in particular, a prolific film based on a Steven King novel, had been the kind of psychologically terrifying film that made your chest rattle and you had spent most of the second half of that movie with your face buried in Baekhyun’s arm begging him to just describe to you what was happening and to tell you when the scary parts were over.

When he asked you what your favorite movie was you hesitated for a moment before pulling the movie Forrest Gump out of basically thin air. Yes you had enjoyed the movie. Yes it was something you’d seen more than once and if it was on television right now you would sit down and watch it from start to finish and you would enjoy it. It was a respectable favorite to have. It was the kind of favorite movie you would not be embarrassed to show to your grandmother.

But it wasn’t actually your favorite and you could feel the burden of Baekhyun’s eyes as he turned his head to look at your face when you said it.

Something about naming, out loud with your own lips — the light and fun, mindless guilty pleasure of the film that was actually your favorite movie that you’d watched hundreds of times and returned to watch again and again every time you felt even a little bit upset; something about saying it out loud to this table of people with countless of hours of media consumption under their belts and opinions about things like prolific directors, production companies, hefty CGI budgets, and overused, tired tropes that absolutely should be dropped in 2021, well it just felt too vulnerable for you to say out loud.

You swallowed a sip of your wine and refused to turn your head to look at Baekhyun until you heard the sound of his throat swallowing the ice water he sipped.

When Mia changed the topic to Anime you felt Baekhyun come alive beside you and Ben slinked back in his seat a little as the two of them got to talking about something that was highly anticipated and was slated to be released next year. Rumors about artists and directors with names you could not know flew easily from their lips and Mia mentioned the name of one previous work that you recognized.

In fact you had watched the entire thing last year with Baekhyun and you remembered talking excitedly about it with Mia during one of your early text conversations.

Your face lit up and you happily joined in, excited to finally know what in the world they were talking about when you accidentally let something slip when you reminded her of what she had said about the anime before. Luckily you stopped yourself before you could admit that you had actually been the one she had been chatting with at the time.

Still, she caught it. She was very quick and sharp and you watched her face as she registered that you’d referenced something that only Baekhyun should know about. Had you just fucked up?

“Ahh, we,” you raised your index finger and waved it lightly toward where Baekhyun had stiffened up in his seat beside you, “he told me about what you said.”

There was a moment when her eyes widened and she looked at Baekhyun briefly before returning her focus to you.

“He...told you about me?” She lifted a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, straightened her back and leaned forward with her forearms rested in front of her plate on the table. Her off-the-shoulders number dipped when she leaned in and you caught a bit of black lace and the bunch up of her impressive bosom.

She smiled a coy smile aimed across the table.

You followed the smile and your eyes reached Baekhyun. He’d been hit with the smile and had been too stunned to return it. Instead, he lifted a hand and rubbed it over the back of his neck twice before reaching the same hand forward to grab the ice water he’d been sipping all night as he pulled in a mouthful and puffed his cheeks before covering his lips with his flattened palm and swallowing noisily.

“I also mentioned you to my friend,” Mia said not quietly enough for it to be just for him and you dropped your eyes down to the half finished chicken on your plate.

She was fine. Mia was fine. She’d done absolutely nothing wrong. She was nice and she was probably a good person, but you kind of wanted her to die.

“So,” Ben interjected suddenly and you looked across the table at him as you tried to conceal the surprise on your face to find him sitting there.

You noticed he was done with his food and his plate had already been cleared away by the super attentive waitstaff.

The negligence of your own date weighed heavily on you and you angled your chest forward to face him directly for whatever questions he had for you.

He was pointing toward Baekhyun and Mia with his extended finger and raised eyebrows.

“You two work in computers?” It was a work question. He’d gathered this much from the brief introductions everyone had given and while you had failed to offer any insight as to what you did for a living, Baekhyun and Mia had both mentioned computers.

“He’s a software engineer, and I’m a programmer. Similar but not the same,” Mia explained. You weren't sure of any of the details or of how they were different. You hadn’t really put much thought into it. You knew Baekhyun worked the magic with the keyboard and could fix anything that you happened to break.

“I’m in advertising. Just got scouted by Comma Entertainment and I’ve accepted.” Ben had a hand raised to his chest and his eyebrows were up. This seemed important to him and you let your lips form into an impressed O shape as you raised your eyebrows. His tone and the way he said the name of his new employer seemed to warrant the excited reaction.

You weren't familiar at all with his industry but you knew how to react like you knew what he was talking about. He certainly seemed impressed by himself. Who were you to discourage his enthusiasm.

“You’ve heard of it?” You sold it too well. Baekhyun had leaned close to you and whispered an aside question and you shot him a tense look with your eyes as a warning, but you quickly pushed your smile wide for Ben who was, deservedly, very excited about his new position.

“Of course, who doesn’t know Comma for advertising. That’s a very big deal. Is that why you were so busy last week? We hardly got to talk.”

Your subject change was so slick. If you hadn’t been the one to do it, you’d have been impressed by it. The disappointed pout on your face sold it well.

“Actually I was at the bank a lot last week. It was so weird. I had a few accounts that seemed to be hacked but then it turned out to be nothing. Had to change all my passwords though, so that was annoying.”

“That sucks. They didn't take anything did they?” Mia spoke up from beside Ben; concern written all over her face.

“No. Whoever did it just seemed to access purchase histories mostly. Some loser of a hacker. Didn't even get any money.” Ben’s lips pulled wide and he was laughing with his head thrown back at his perceived victory over the hacker that had been messing around in his bank records.

“You can learn a remarkable amount of information about a person’s bad habits from their bank history, Ben. Sure utilities and rent; that’s boring. You can find out how often someone gets hammered at bars. How many of those bars are also strip clubs. How many maxed out credit cards they make minimum payments on each month just to keep their head above water. Their gambling losses and the motel rooms they book in the bad part of town…”

Baekhyun was speaking up beside you. You turned and you looked at his profile as he spoke so candidly and with what you could only describe as a certain smugness on his voice.

The only reason he’d stopped talking was to catch his breath. It was the most he had spoken all night and you honestly felt taken aback by the suddenness of his words and more, the topic he spoke on. It felt weirdly pointed. It just felt so detailed; almost accusatory.

“What?” You hissed the question; focused it hard and as under your breath as possible to the man seated beside you.

His lips closed up before his eyes turned to look at you and you caught a quick blink of his eyes that preceded a softening of his features that had no business looking that confrontational in the first place.

“I’m not saying any of that stuff applies to Ben.” Baekhyun lifted a slim dismissive hand to wave toward your date. “It’s just an example. For all we know Ben’s only weakness is eating fried chicken every day.”

Ben’s lips were pulled into a thin line on his face and his jaw unclenched when you looked back at him. Then he was smiling at you and it was bright and convincing. You smiled back at him and shook your head at your wacky roommate’s antics.

“Actually it’s pizza. You caught me buddy, I’m a hardcore pizza addict. Every night.”

“Well, not tonight.” Baekhyun shrugged with an odd smile landing on his lips.

Ben’s tight smile flattened and the two men seemed to be staring at each other for longer than you thought was polite for a shared first double-date.

“So what is it that you do?” It was Mia who ultimately broke the tension and you looked across the table into her eyes. She had a pleasant smile on her face and was still chewing on a piece of bread, clearly unbothered by the strange standoff that had just been going on between the two men at this table.

Surely you weren't the only one to notice how odd it had been. Had you just imagined the tightness in Baekhyun’s fist that laid over his thigh and the hard glare in Ben’s eyes?

With Mia’s question though, you felt your own lips pull closed and your eyes danced around the table to the other curious parties who also were now looking at you to answer the question.

You’d prepared well for this date. You’d made sure Baekhyun had the detailed first date topics, questions and answers for perfect small talk, even the section on table etiquette. You’d made sure he knew you’d be here to steer the conversations toward topics he was comfortable discussing and you’d even set up a safety signal he would use if he wanted to bail and just go home.

You’d planned it all out, down to the detailed progression of the evening and how at the end someone might even suggest going together for drinks. And should one of the dates wish to split off, it would be completely okay as long as the corresponding person felt comfortable. You’d even promised that under no circumstances would you abandon Baekhyun to do this on his own if he didn't want to. Not even at the behest of Ben, your date.

They were looking at you and you'd gone quiet. You’d been so busy preparing for this date that it never occurred to you that you were also actively involved and that someone might possibly ask a question about you and your work.

Your work. Well…

“Uhh...I don't really do anything worth mentioning.”

You felt it. It was a warmth that had pooled in the skin around your nose. Your cheeks felt warm and you felt just insignificant enough for it to take your undeserved confidence and throw it out the window.

Ben and Mia were watching you. You pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth and bit down on the dry chapped skin on the surface.

“Nothing?” Ben said and his eyes were wide with a look of confusion on his face.

“Well, not nothing.” You were not completely unemployed. You had been quite impressive before. You’d been working with the best publicists of an entertainment company and had been in charge of crafting and perfecting the asset sheets of many of your company's highest profile artists. You’d been the best at it and at one time had been highly sought out for your expertise. You had a way with it. You could work some real magic. You could make a dud of a raw potato sound like a five star course in a Michelin star restaurant. Losing your position in the spring of 2020 had really been a huge blow to your confidence. You looked back at how far you had fallen. Boring data entry jobs to make ends meet. Taking on weird side gigs so you could afford tiny luxuries like your favorite scented lotion or the name brand tampons instead of the store brand.

“I do have a job.” You added lamely. “It’s just not at all interesting.”

Ben dropped his eyes from yours and Mia shrugged her shoulders and stabbed a carrot ball expertly on the first try.

“Yeah but what is it?” Mia said as she chewed daintily. The heat in your cheeks spread and you let your eyes wander away from hers over the various dinner items that covered this table.

Beside you, Baekhyun’s movement caught your eye and you turned to see him place an elbow on the table in front of him and he leaned forward.

“She’s a dating coach. She’s really good at it, but much too modest when she talks about herself.”

Oh no. He wasn't about to spill the beans was he? This was definitely not something in the approved list of first date dinner topics. Wasn't this topic too incriminating? Wouldn't Mia put two and two together and figure out that you had been coaching Baekhyun all along? Also, wasn't this new profession of yours too brand new to start talking about so freely like this? What the hell was he doing?

“A dating coach? What’s that?”

Strangely, Mia didn't seem to be looking at Baekhyun with wheels turning and sirens blaring. She was looking at you with her mouth empty and hung open with a look of genuine interest in her eyes.

“Do you like, feed them what to say in an earpiece?” Ben was speaking up from the other side of Mia and you laughed at the absurdity of such a silly rom-com movie cliche.

“Well no. I’m not a pickup artist. I am a dating coach. Think about it like a sports coach. I am teaching my clients the skills to play the game. Skills to overcome dating anxiety, or I’m teaching them to identity and move away from self-sabotaging behaviors, limiting beliefs, or preconceptions that are detrimental to a healthy relationship.

I have clients that don't even know where to begin. My goal is to strategize with them and place them effectively within the dating scene so they stand the best chance. It’s incredibly hard to be objective about your own love life, but I provide an outside viewpoint. I step in and intervene when I see something that isn't in line with their relationship goals or the vision they have for dating.

I’m not teaching manipulation or just telling them what to say. There are no love spells to make someone fall in love with you. I’m changing the way they believe in themselves so they can present themselves to someone else in the absolute best way to begin a real relationship with someone.”

You’d been leaning in as you spoke animatedly with your hands. You felt the genuine excitement building with your words. You were surprised at how much of your previous profession’s language applied to this new exciting endeavor you were embarking on, but there really were tons of overlapping similarities between the two fields. The explanations just poured out of you.

You hadn’t said any of this out loud before to anyone but the more you talked about it, the more elated you felt about what you were doing with your life. With how much you had been helping Baekhyun and how much progress you had seen in just one day of helping your clients — Baekhyun’s friends Minseok and Sehun. Sehun had finally, finally sent you his first selfie that wasn’t taken from his lap after you’d sent him many examples of good selfies taken from different angles. Minseok was already halfway through the materials you’d sent him to study and had been working hard on identifying and changing the self-defeating language he’d used in his rough draft dating profile.

“She has an app.” Baekhyun piped up from beside you. He’d leaned back in his chair as you spoke.

Both Ben and Mia’s faces mirrored each other’s. Their eyes were wide and their mouths hung in amazement and you quickly closed up your own mouth and grabbed anxiously at your wine glass, feeling a little bit embarrassed about having talked so much. You couldn't resist the chance to smash their misconceptions about what your goals actually were with helping your clients. None of these people were unlovable. They were all worthy of finding someone and you were going to give it your all to help them see their own value.

“Not at all interesting?” Mia spoke up, “that’s super interesting. That’s really, really cool. Can—Can I have your contact info? I have a friend that would be interested in your services.”

“You have an app too? This is something we could advertise online. It would do extremely well on certain kinds of reddit forums and definitely in most online gaming communities.” Even Ben sounded excited, if not a bit overly judgmental, and you heard a quiet, but hostile scoff next to you.

You ticked your head toward the sound but did not turn to look at him. You knew that scoff well enough to hear the annoyance in his voice at whatever he thought Ben might be insinuating about online gamers and the connection to the incels that haunted the forums of reddit.

“I think it’s a bit premature to think about online advertising. I’m still only one person.”

Ben smiled and shrugged off your quick dismissal of his idea to partner up and advertise your business to the desperately lonely and pathetic gamers of the world. Hell, the more you thought about it, the less inappropriate Baekhyun’s annoyance was. Ben could use some coaching on choosing less insulting words.

Thankfully the dinner was over and the check had been taken care of. You looked away from the palpable awkwardness that slapped you across the face when Baekhyun waved away Ben’s card and paid for the entire bill with his own.

“You can get me next time, buddy.” He definitely said this word sarcastically. It was out of line and you simply could not find the right moment to pinch his leg under the table to get him to behave himself in a discrete enough way that would not get you caught by the other two people at this table.

You let it slide simply because you had no way to stop it. He was ignoring the way you waved your finger frantically at him down by your calf. You knew he could see you in his peripherals.

No, Baekhyun. Stop that. Be nice. Your hand was saying. He wouldn't even look at it.

The dinner was over and the movie was starting soon. You’d picked a restaurant that was close enough to the theatre that you could walk.

You paired off. It was far from natural. You actually caught Baekhyun’s eyes as you stepped quickly and walked ahead of him, falling into step beside Ben and you left behind Baekhyun and Mia to bring up the rear. It took every ounce of self control not to turn around and look behind you to see how closely they walked to each other. To see if Baekhyun kept his hands shoved securely in his pockets or if he swung his arms at his side as he walked, inching a hand closer and closer to Mia’s swinging hand in the hopes of a back of the hand brush of his warm skin against hers.

Your steps must have stalled. You’d reached the theatre and you looked up to locate Ben, only to find him at the box office purchasing four tickets for the movie you’d all agreed to watch days ago. For the life of you, you couldn't remember what you were seeing. You merely followed where you were led and found yourself seated in a center row of a movie house sandwiched between Ben and Baekhyun. You noticed the center armrests had been lifted when you arrived and simply did not bother to lower them since everyone was too full from dinner for any movie snacks or drinks.

The house was mostly empty and then lights dimmed as the movie began. You searched your brain and nearly pulled out your phone to check your chat logs for the name of the film but decided against shining a tiny bright light in a dark room.

The movie began and you were quickly drawn into the narrative. It was a dark film and as the soundtrack began to take on more sinister sounding tones you recognized that your heart was racing and you were feeling the tension all over your body. It was not a gorey horror film, but it was leaning more toward the psychological suspense thriller genre. Not really something you watched much of.

To your left, Ben sat completely still; focused only on the movie screen. He looked so calm and nearly unaffected by the terrifying things happening on the screen. He occasionally shifted in his seat but did not react to the jump scare that flashed before your eyes and made you flinch hard in your seat. You’d reached the point in the film when the main characters were in genuine danger and you began to wonder if anyone would make it out of this movie alive. Was this one of those films where everyone was doomed?

It happened again, another jump, another loud shocking sound and another noise startled you and you dove to your right, hiding your face in the warm shoulder of the man sitting beside you.

The realization was instantaneous. The second you felt the warmth of his arm, and the smell of him hit your nose, you pulled your head up and you straightened out your spine, mumbling a quiet apology to Baekhyun for using his arm to hide behind as you removed any and all contact points you had with his body. You angled your hips and your knees away from him and even went so far as to stick your hands well under your own thighs and keep them there so you didn't grab for him again. You had been doing so well by not touching him at all today. Why did it have to be a scary movie?

Things grew more frantic on the screen. You held your breath and tried your best to keep from reacting as much as you could. How long was this movie? How much longer did you have to endure this? You should have paid more attention to the details of this part of the date. This was your own fault. You were acting like a big baby because you couldn't handle a little frightening scenes in a movie.

It was coming again. You could feel it building. You closed your eyes and terrible sounds were erupting all over. You would just not look. You could make it through if you just didn't look. With your eyes closed the sounds felt louder than ever and when you thought you couldn't take it anymore you considered committing the enormous sin of getting up during the climax of the movie to use the bathroom just so you didn't have to sit through this anymore.

There was a shift beside you then. You felt warm fingers inching down your forearm, traveling the path your hand took that led below your thigh and someone was reaching for your hand and pulling it out from where you’d been sitting on it. Someone to your right was gripping your hand with his own warm hand and you opened your eyes to look down between the hidden space between your hip and Baekhyun’s hip. There, you saw the grip of his hand that wrapped securely around yours.

He squeezed down once and you followed the length of him up to catch a glimpse of the side of his face. He was looking up at the screen. His eyes were open and he did not flinch at all. He was so still aside from the occasional movement of his lips when he moistened them with his tongue.

You could handle this if he lent you a little bit of his strength like this. Your eyes returned to the screen but your mind wandered back down to the secure comfort you felt in his hand.

You felt your own secret throb.

It made you flinch just a little bit and Baekhyun’s hand shifted then. He moved, lifting the tight grip for a moment and you wondered if he was done, would he take his hand back and leave you cold and afraid again? The lift was for the shift of his fingers and you felt the push of each digit between yours. He pushed his fingers between yours; interlocking your hands together with his and his thumb moved lightly over your own thumb, brushing comforting strokes again and again through the loud and scary and shocking scenes that played over that screen.

This time the racing you felt in your chest had nothing to do with the scary movie. He was touching you. He was holding your hand in secret. It felt forbidden with his date sitting right beside him like she was and with your date seated right beside you like he was. All of your attention was down on the slow pressure you felt from his thumb as it traced the shape of your own thumb down from the very bottom up to the tip, around again. The simple up and down had a slow and sensual rhythm to it. When he lifted his hand his thumb moved and you held your breath to feel that same very slow touching trace the outline of the palm of your hand again and again. He drew absentminded shapes into your skin with the pointed tip of his thumb and your eyes drifted closed as the longing grew within you. He followed the paths of the creases in your skin like a palm reader. He did not even need light to see them, he simply felt them and traced along the paths.

You let him.

You felt bewitched.

You loved him.

The credits rolled on the screen and the lights switched on. The change was abrupt. You were taken by surprise and shocked by it like you were from the jump scares in the film.

His warmth left you. His wandering light touch, his deliberate and careful exploration of the lines that made up the palm of your hand vanished.

Everyone was standing and everyone was walking out of the theatre house and your mind felt clouded and dazed but you followed where their steps led and you found yourself standing outside of the exit doors with the three other people who you entered with.

Baekhyun stood beside Mia and Ben occupied the space of the sidewalk square that you also stood inside.

It was the end of a night. You felt an overwhelming urge for this evening to be done so you could go home and shower and maybe eat something sweet and distracting and maybe made out of chocolate.

“Well this was fun,” it was your own voice that ultimately called it.

Mia had been looking at Baekhyun who had been looking down at his own feet as he lightly tapped his foot on the concrete below. Three taps.

Tap, tap, tap.

You felt a jolt of realization. Baekhyun had just tapped his foot thrice on the floor below him well within your sight and you recognized what that meant. He was feeling done. He was done with all of this exhausting socializing and being out in public with so many people around and he wanted to go home now. This was him asking you for help now as he wasn't sure how to end the date but wanted it to be over.

“What about...grabbing some drinks, maybe...” Mia was talking only to Baekhyun as she looked at him, “if you aren't too tired.”

“Hey Baek, isn’t your grandmother coming over early tomorrow? Do you still have to get ready for that?” You interjected suddenly and Baekhyun looked up into your face with his mouth open and you watched his eyes move slowly over your face as he recognized what you were doing. You were giving him an out. Mia had asked him to go for drinks and you were giving him an excuse, should he need it.

You both knew his grandma came every other Sunday. You both vividly remembered the wonderful visit you had at the beginning of the week with her and she wasn’t due to arrive again until next Sunday.

He could simply correct you if he really did want to go with her. He could call you a dummy and tell you that you had the wrong week again and playfully tap you on the head to jog your brain back into functioning the right way as he often did when you got something mixed up.

“Oh, yeah she is,” Baekhyun grabbed your convenient reminder from the air and smiled a rueful smile directed at Mia. His smile widened with the wince on his face, “that’s too bad.” He added and Mia took it well.

She smiled and nodded her head and there were well wishes for a safe trip home all around as you all parted ways.

Ben said he would text you later. Baekhyun told Mia the same and you waited until they both walked away to follow Baekhyun back to his car for the quiet ride home.

The silence was heavy, but it was comfortable.

Baekhyun didn't speak at all and you could tell by the way he carried himself that he was tired. He wasn’t normally an extroverted person and found it very draining to carry on a full conversation with friends he knew well. Strangers like he had been with tonight, well, you could see the fatigue in his movements and you knew he needed something warm to drink and maybe some comfort with a familiar favorite tv show to zone out in front of.

You handled it better. You were used to having to go out of your home occasionally and you even enjoyed socializing with your coworkers on the few days you went in to the office for work. You felt a bit drained but mostly you were preoccupied with watching how he was handling it and you were also burning with curiosity to know how Baekhyun felt about the whole thing.

He’d wandered into the living room and he found the sofa. You followed him close behind and grabbed the remote, flipping to a familiar and funny cartoon that you often saw him playing in the background as he worked on things. He didn't usually watch it that closely but it was comforting enough to stay on and keep his mind occupied for a while.

You didn't speak. Everything you had to ask him could wait. Even the scolding you had for him about how he acted toward Ben could also wait. You’d let the man breathe a little first.

You busied yourself in the kitchen making two cups of hot tea and when you returned you found his head leaning against the back of the couch with his eyes still glued to the screen. He had a passive smile on his face and he reacted positively to the wacky scenarios the characters found themselves in. He would occasionally speak out loud, speaking along with a funny line he knew by heart and you found it impossible to resist saying the follow up joke. You knew this show as well as he did.

He accepted the tea with a smile and had a few sips and you set your mug on the coffee table in favorable of the comfortable side of the sofa, the side with the pillows that allowed you to rest your head comfortably as you watched the big tv.

You were feeling pretty good. Baekhyun had now officially gone on his first date with a real girl who wasn’t you and he’d had a nice time. You could see from where you laid your head down how relaxed his face was as he giggled at the show.

You stretched and you felt his warm thigh with your foot. This sofa was long enough for you to stretch out completely and you only barely reached where he sat at the other side. You wiggled your toes, unable to resist the light messing with him that you often gave in to and his hand reached down to grab ahold of your foot, which he held in place as he paid attention to the tv.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you sat up a little bit to pull it out.

You saw a text message from Ben.

From the preview you got the idea of what kind of text message the man would be sending you an hour after your first, and apparently your last date with him.

-Hey you seem like a super cool girl, but...

The preview showed you enough to know that he was dumping you before you’d even gotten anything started with him.

You opened the text. Your curiosity outweighed your sense of self preservation.

-...but whatever’s going on between you and your roommate, well it doesn’t really seem like there’s much room for me. I just don't think I can start something knowing I’ve already lost. Thanks for inviting me tonight. The movie was fun. Good luck with everything. - Ben

You felt the sting.

You couldn't help it. You’d spent all evening watching Baekhyun interact with Mia with every ounce of your self control devoted to not letting your jealousy show at all. At one point you’d been so damn engrossed in them that you forgot Ben was even there. What an unfair and shitty situation to have put him in. You quickly keyed out an apology for your crappy date etiquette and thanked him for going out with you tonight.

You couldn't even blame him for anything. He had been sweet and he had tried his best to be the perfect gentleman. What had you expected?

You sent the last message you would ever send to Ben and tossed your phone roughly toward the coffee table. It bounced but landed in the middle.

The racket called Baekhyun’s attention and he turned to look at you with his eyebrows raised in question.

“Ben just rejected me.”

Somehow saying this out loud to Baekhyun felt better than hiding it from him. It felt less miserable than keeping it inside of yourself and letting yourself suffer the sting of the rejection alone.

Baekhyun’s lips pulled into a small frown and he took out his cell phone from his pocket and tossed it roughly on the coffee table beside yours. It took a similar bounce and your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden gesture.

“No way, not Mia too,” you said in genuine fear and Baekhyun shook his head with his shrug still well in place.

“Nah, I just can't lay down with my phone in my pocket,” he said as he wiggled on the sofa trying to get comfortable, “though in hindsight I can see how you would think that, sorry. Mia hasn’t texted yet.”

He was wiggling, finding no comfort in all the positions he tried and you caught his wandering eyes for a second as you lightly tapped a hand over your belly.

This…

This would be fine. This was something you both did sometimes. Baekhyun said your belly was warm and comfy and made the best noises and he liked to use you as a pillow when he was just too tired to go to his own bed.

He moved right away at your invitation and you let your legs part around his chest as he laid his head down right on top of you. He turned his head to face the tv and didn't even squirm too much before he sighed out loud. His arms laid on either side of your waist and you felt the constriction as he lightly squeezed around you.

You really hadn’t gotten to touch him all day. Your fingers found their way into his hair and you felt a low moan from the back of his throat travel though your body as you raked your nails down the back of his head to his nape.

“Peanut,” you said softly, feeling every little bit of the annoying little tickle of that stupid secret sitting inside of you.

You could feel the heaviness of his body as he gave in and relaxed his muscles on you. You felt every breath he took and they seemed to be changing as you played with his hair and he gave in to the relaxing comfort you offered him.

“Hmm?” He replied after a long while. You angled your face and could see that his eyes were closed.

“How was the date? Was it nice?”

You had so many hopes for him. You were trying your best to ignore the pangs of your own selfish jealousy and get past it all to get to something good for him. Something that would make him understand how incredible he was. How beautiful he was inside and out and how precious of a human being he was.

“Mhmm, I liked it.” He said softly and he shifted and you felt him tighten his hold around your waist briefly before he relaxed again.

“Did you really? Do you think you liked Mia?” You kept your voice strong. You did not allow your fears to overcome your voice. You were okay with this if he was okay.

He did not answer right away. You’d stopped playing with his hair and you kept your hand rested over his head. He was so warm. He was so lovely.

“Do you want me to like Mia?”

No.

Mia would be so good to him.

You did not answer. Your answer would have been no. It would have been selfish. You’d just been dumped by your date, how dare his date have gone so well. You’d both been on the same date. You could still see the way she looked at him. She found him just as lovely as you did.

You felt a thickness at the back of your throat and you swallowed it down.

“I’m trying, Bug. She’s very nice to talk to. Do you think I should like her?”

Was this because of his mistrust of people? Was this his shyness about letting someone he didn't know very well in close?

You couldn't respond. You did not trust yourself to do the right thing.

“You should go rest if you’re sleepy,” you said, you know, like a coward.

It took him a few minutes of laying on top of you before he realized that you were right and he would be much more comfortable in his own bed. He nodded and pushed up with his arms, and his eyes stayed closed and his head stayed hung down as his feet shuffled and he made his way into his bedroom, leaving his door open you merely heard the loud sound of him plopping down on his bed.

You were stuck where he left you.

Stuck in about as crappy a mood as you’d ever found yourself.

You hated everything about this. You hated how much you loved him and you hated how receptive he was to the idea of dating Mia. You hated how she looked at him and giggled at his small jokes and you hated HATED the way his cheeks blushed and the shy smiles he gave her when she talked to him.

You laid there and you stewed in your mood for longer than was good for you and the only thing that made your it up was the simultaneous buzzing that brought both of your cell phones to life on the coffee table.

You reached for yours. It’s as your dating coach app. Baekhyun had received a new message from Mia. The feelings that surged through you were taking over your sense of what was good and what was right and what was proper behavior for someone like you to participate in.

You swiped to read the message.

-Hi Baekhyun. Sorry I couldn't wait until tomorrow to text you. I had an amazing time tonight and I was wondering if you would like to meet up tomorrow after your Grandmother’s visit for coffee? I have something I’d like to ask you.

You felt as if your body was on fire.

You could feel it deep inside your chest, deeper still inside your belly where his head had been resting moments before. You felt it in the palm of your hand where his thumb had traced the patterns of lines there. You felt it in your lips that he had kissed and in your tongue ached inside of your mouth from your stupid secret.

You reached for your phone. You opened the app for the power he’d given only to you and you responded to her message as if you were Baekhyun.

-Hi, Yeah, that sounds fine. I’ll meet you at 1pm.

Your hands moved on their own. You moved to the internal commands of your app and you deleted both of the messages from the chat history. When you picked up his phone you saw the notification for Mia’s message vanish before your eyes and when you unlocked it and accessed his chat log, there was no sign of the unimaginable and unforgivable sin you had just committed against him.

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8  , Part 9 , Part 10

Tag list: @j-pping  @blahblahblah-boo  @his-mochi-cheeks  @amyeonzing@littleflowercrown13  @baekinmylife  @insta1010  @nana-banana  @f4ncyvelvet@bbhbeth  @totallynerdstuff  @byunbabybaek @maijinki @bbyunz@theclawofaraven @kingkushdealer  @uhobob @baekswifey​ @punchmebaekhyun @xlxbaekhyuneex

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

promise me that you’ll start where i end

A/N: 3rd Life SMP but i make it more dramatic. also i made the mistake of listening to drivers license by olivia rodrigo while writing this and cried. i'd say enjoy but i don't think that's the correct emotion to experience while reading this. (title is from Boreas by The Oh Hellos)

Summary: An argument before Scott's world- one of color, light, and love- falls to pieces and turns dark. And the friend who tries to collect those pieces and bring back a little light to him.

Warnings: minor violence, talk of death, arguing, hugs, crying, canonical character death, grief/mourning, bittersweet ending

-

Scott leaned against the potions table with a sigh. There were too many close calls today. Each brush with Dogwarts nearly cost either him or Jimmy their lives, not to mention that Cleo lost one of her lives trying to escape the Red King and his men. Then there was the whole issue with Joel, his attempt on Scott’s life, and their wall- he wasn’t looking forward to rebuilding it, especially just out of cobblestone or some other stone. A small smile was brought to his face as he remembered how Jimmy instantly wanted to go after Joel, even though the other man was already long gone. It should have been concerning, how fast Jimmy could seemingly switch between being a lost puppy or a feral wolf on his red life. Instead, it was actually sort of endearing. It would be more endearing if it didn’t give Scott a near heart attack every time his husband tried to rush forward into danger. Scott squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden onslaught of memories- Jimmy running through lava for a prize, his eagerness to pick up a piece of tnt and the resulting destruction it caused, Jimmy staring Ren down as he burned the Dogwarts flag (and then himself), Jimmy drawing his bow when Scott was trying to de-escalate a situation and just ask if Dogwarts had anything to do with their wall burning- Scott wasn’t sure if he was proud of or angry at Jimmy’s recklessness. There was one thing Scott knew for certain- he would never be able to erase the memories of Jimmy’s deaths from his mind, and everything he did was to make sure that Jimmy would survive. And himself too, of course, but Jimmy was the one with no lives left.

“Scott?” a voice asked, causing his eyes to snap open. He looked over to see Jimmy stepping through the nether portal. He looked a little shy, and Scott smiled in spite of himself at his husband being in his “lost puppy” mode.

“I’m just working on some potions. Y’know, for future encounters. What’s up?” Scott asked. Jimmy fidgeted for a moment or two, not quite meeting Scott’s gaze.

“Just wanted to check in on you, after uh… everything,” he asked sheepishly, finally looking up at Scott’s eyes.

“Could be better, could be worse. There were a couple of close calls, but that’s why I’m working on potions,” he replied with a shrug. Jimmy’s brow knit in concern, and he reached out to Scott for half a moment, but quickly dropped his hands with a frown.

“It was too close today,” Jimmy muttered under his breath. Scott huffed out a laugh, shaking his head.

“It was, you’re on your last life- you’ve gotta be more careful,” he reprimanded. Jimmy’s sheepish gaze snapped defiantly to Scott’s, and he jumped a bit in surprise at the fire in his husband’s eyes.

“I was talking about you! Martyn’s arrows nearly took you out!” Jimmy shouted, hands gesturing wildly.

“Jimmy, my armor’s better than yours, and I have all my lives left. I would have been fine- you wouldn’t have,” Scott said, a little taken aback at Jimmy’s sudden ferocity.

“Just because you have all your lives doesn’t mean you can throw them away, Scott!” Jimmy protested. Scott gave Jimmy an incredulous look.

“I’m not throwing my lives away, Jimmy. I have good gear, I negotiate and build alliances with other factions, I’m making potions- if anyone’s throwing away their lives around here, it’s you!” Scott shot back, voice coming out more frustrated than he meant it to. A hurt expression crossed Jimmy’s face, and part of Scott wanted to take back what he said, but most of him didn’t regret it at all. Didn’t Jimmy understand what was at stake here? Scott tried his best to look out for him, but each and every time he rushed forward into things he shouldn’t have.

“Scott, I know I’ve messed up. You don’t need to keep reminding me. But I can’t just stay put and do nothing like you!” Jimmy shouted.

“What do you mean, doing nothing?! I’m trying to build up our defences-”

“Going on the offensive is the only thing Dogwarts will understand-”

“I’m just trying to protect you!” both Scott and Jimmy exclaimed at the same time. Both of them blinked in surprise, and all at once things started clicking into place.

“Scott, I’m no strategist like you. I’m not even as good in combat. But I’m on red- I’m the fighter here. So let me fight for you,” Jimmy said softly. Scott made a sound that was half laugh, half scoff.

“Jimmy-”

“I can’t stand the thought of letting you die, Scott,” Jimmy said, refusing to meet his gaze. A bittersweet smile came to Scott’s face, and he took a step closer to Jimmy, tilting his head to try and meet Jimmy’s eyes.

“Jimmy, I’ve seen you die twice. Don’t you think that I can’t stand the thought of letting you die either?” Scott asked. Jimmy finally looked up at Scott, eyes watering. Scott let out a fond little scoff, reaching out to wipe at Jimmy’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy said wetly. Scott didn’t answer at first, instead reaching out to pull Jimmy into a hug.

“Don’t be. And don’t cry you idiot, you’ll just disintegrate faster,” Scott teased fondly, relieved when Jimmy let out a laugh in response. Jimmy pulled away, wiping at his eyes and smiling. Scott couldn’t help but smile back, happy to see his husband in a marginally better mood.

“We’ll be okay, right Scott?” Jimmy asked, still soft and as timid as before. 

“I’m working on potions, we’ve got allies, and we’ve got each other. We’ll be alright,” Scott said, voice soft but no less determined. Jimmy gave his usual dazzling smile, filling Scott with warmth and light at the sight of it.

-

It was dark when Scott made his way down the hill from Jimmy’s grave. He wasn’t even there when Jimmy had died, he had told Jimmy that they would be alright and they both weren’t. Scott was on yellow now, the gleam in his eyes and the gold shimmering in his hair making that absolutely certain. Scott’s preparedness hadn’t even saved either of them! His potions certainly didn’t do much good as Scott died early on in the battle. Maybe he and Jimmy shouldn’t have allied with anyone. Maybe they should have stayed within their walls and retired, like Scott wanted to. Maybe Jimmy would be alive now. But there was no use dwelling on the “what-ifs”- all Scott had was the now. And the now was crushingly lonely and dim.

Scott jumped at the cackle of a witch, narrowly avoiding a thrown potion. He drew his sword and cut her down without a second thought. She poofed into ash, leaving Scott to stumble forward into the dirt. He drove his sword into the ground with a cry of rage and sorrow.

“I can’t even mourn?!” he cried, shouting at the universe for what he had lost and what he had endured. Scott wasn’t sure how long he had knelt there in the grass, a white-knuckled grip on the hilt of his sword and a hand over his mouth to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. It wasn’t until the growls and skittering of other mobs approaching that Scott finally picked himself up, yanking his sword from the ground and feet moving on autopilot. 

He soon stumbled through the nether portal to the cave behind it, shaking hands reaching for a book tucked away on one of the shelves. He opened it carefully despite his trembling hands, not wanting to damage what was inside. Between the pages laid a collection of pressed flowers, one of them being the poppy that Jimmy had given him when they first met. Scott finally allowed himself to crumble, falling to the floor and sobbing with the book of pressed flowers cradled in his arms.

“Scott?” a voice asked. His head snapped up and he looked to the cave entrance, heart skipping a beat at a flash of blond and red- but then saw the brightly colored wings and deflated at the realization that it was just Grian. Scott quickly wiped at his eyes, gently closing the book before holding it tight against his chest and standing up.

“Um. Hi,” Scott said, unsure of what to say. Grian didn’t look like he knew what to say either, feathers rustling slightly before he cleared his throat.

“I just wanted to uh. Check in on you,” Grian said. Scott let out a shaky sigh. How many times had Jimmy come in, asking the same thing? Checking in on Scott, making sure he wasn’t overworking himself- sometimes checking in on him wasn’t even for Scott’s own benefit. Jimmy would need reassurance, and Scott would joke and tease to cheer him up. What Scott wouldn’t give to hear Jimmy’s laugh one last time.

“I think you can see how well I’m doing,” Scott said, tone coming off a bit more brusquely than he meant it to. Scott winced as soon as the words escaped his mouth. Grian didn’t deserve to have his grief taken out on him, but frankly Scott wasn’t sure how else he was supposed to respond to that. His friend’s expression twisted in sympathy.

“Sorry. We did avenge him, at least,” Grian said softly. Scott let out a humorless laugh.

“Yeah. I just thought I’d feel some sort of satisfaction from it, or that it would make losing Jimmy hurt less,” Scott replied, voice as hollow as he felt. Silence hung between them for a few moments, before Grian stepped a bit closer. He cautiously reached out to put a hand on Scott’s shoulder, and Scott peered up slightly at the touch.

“It probably won’t help much, in fact not at all, but what if we put a stop to Dogwarts? For all the things we’ve lost- and for Jimmy,” Grian offered. A small, weak smile crept onto Scott’s face. He wouldn’t let Jimmy’s death be in vain- he believed in a world without Dogwarts, a world where he and Scott could live out their days in peace. And even if Jimmy wasn’t able to live it with him, Scott knew that Jimmy would want him to move forward, to the life they had wanted.

“For Jimmy,” Scott said, warmth in his tone for the first time since Jimmy had died. For a brief moment, he thought he felt a hand ghost across his, paired with a reassuring touch on his back and a breath at his ear. The moment was there and gone, and Scott desperately wanted to curl his fingers around familiar ones he swore he had just felt- but it left Scott’s smile a bit brighter all the same.

-

MCYT Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @space-ace123

[chwrpg]

Murray, I have asked you repeatedly not to call me "woman".

A NOTE FROM ADMIN R: Oh, oh, oh ! Y’all don’t know how happy I am to be accepting this application. Dylan is truly one of my CHW faves and to have her taken up by you, Cailin... that’s just an honor. I can not wait to see what you do with her, but I know one thing... this dash ain’t ready fro the looks Dylan is about to serve us. Thank you so much for applying and welcome back, love !

OOC NAME/ALIAS, PREFERRED PRONOUNS, AGE & TIMEZONE:

cailin, (she/her), 25, est

DESIRED CHARACTER:

queen mother, dylan davenport

HOW ACTIVE WILL YOU BE?

8-10

SECONDARY CHOICE:

taylor flick

DESCRIBE THE CHARACTER:

Dylan is shrouded in beauty, bold fashion choices, witty comebacks, and her daddy’s debit card. But the woman wearing the Amina Muaddi heels to 7/11 is much more interesting than her out of this world clothes. If Chanel’s head is in the clouds, Dylan’s feet are planted on the ground. She’s the fuel to the fire, the one who gets shit done. Things don’t move without her — and that includes the fashion scene in Rosewood. Dylan could’ve been a surgeon, she has the brains and attention to detail for it, but, you see, what Dylan says or doesn’t say goes. She predicted high waist jeans making a comeback before Vogue did, telling the girls one day during first period. So she’s a bit of a culture oracle. It’s why people care about what she’s thinking, who she’s endorsing, what designers she’s buying. They even want to know what she’s watching on a monday night. Her confidence and sincerity is inspiring. When she’s not taste making though, she’s the loyalest, most straightforward friend you can find in her tax bracket. Balancing the thin line between being no-nonsense and fun to be around. She does it well, though. In fact, she does most things well (driving not included.)‌ Her peers boast about her style and charisma, her professors brag about her work ethic and creativity, her boyfriend….well, her love life is a tumultuous roller coaster but every icon needs a fixer upper. Plus she gets diamonds every time he fumbles.

SAMPLE WRITING:

( Alexa, play Daddy )

The day Dylan was born she became a daddy’s girl. Stevie Wonder could see it. Dada was her first word much to her mother’s chagrin. He never raised his voice at her, never got impatient with her when she spilled her juice or threw her food. He got up in the middle of the night so his wife wouldn’t have to even though he had meetings at 7 in the morning. It didn’t stop there, though. Mr. Davenport didn’t put her down at parties. He carried her around on his hip as he mingled and held court, demanding on no one use baby talk for his brilliant baby girl. “She’s smart like her mom.” He would say to his captivated audience. For her third birthday he rented out an entire amusement park. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t yet tall enough to ride the rides, she had asked for it so he made it happen. He was a doer and a fixer, but he wasn’t perfect. Mr. Davenport had always been a better father and provider than a husband.

So, when she was five, her parents went through a nasty divorce. The papers their lawyers drew up cited irreconcilable differences but she’d come to realize, many years later, that was just how rich people skirted around the truth in hopes of keeping people out of their business. In truth, Mr. Davenport had spent the better part of his career sleeping with secretaries, temps, and clients. Basically anything that was of age and not nailed down. Mrs. Davenport had only grown tired of it after watching Halle Berry cry over Eric Benet  on Oprah. But like she’d taught  Dylan, Mrs. Davenport thought three steps ahead, and had arranged to have a cheating clause in their prenup. She saw the board before she’d even stepped foot on it. And, Sure, they’d been in love when they got married at twenty three, but a cheater never changed its spots, just his lies. In an instant, she got half of everything. Twenty percent of his future earnings, and 360 lipo for a girls trip to Maui to celebrate her emancipation.

All Dylan got out of the deal was two houses, two birthdays, two Christmases, two cars she still couldn’t drive when she turned sixteen. The court awarded them joint custody, ruling they both had enough sense to figure out the schedule on their own. But since that was the year her mom went back to school for her PhD, Dylan spent the majority of her time with her dad and a nanny. Those double holidays also served as a good distraction from the heartbreak she couldn’t explain. Though she was sharp as a whip and actually funny, not laugh because it’s a kid funny, but really funny, she still couldn’t wrap her little mind around why her parents drove to separate houses at the end of the night now. At all those parties, what stuck out the most was everyone saying what a handsome couple they were, how lucky they were to have another. They danced and laughed. They seemed so happy. But looks are deceiving and lucky for her, the loneliest year of her young life was also the year she met her best friend.

( Alexa, play Wannabe )

Dylan and Chanel became an instant package deal, and she thanked her father for not being able to keep his dick out of seedy holes because she wouldn’t have went to school in another district if her mom hadn’t won the house in the divorce, and she wouldn’t have sat down next to Chanel at show and tell, and they wouldn’t have bonded over their pretty dresses, or shared their organic apple juice. God worked in mysterious ways like that. She had a partner for life, and nothing came between them. Not even boys. And, despite having the power to date any eligible bachelor in her grade, she really liked one in particular.

The day she brought Paxton home her took one look at him and chuckled. Dylan figured it was because of the grill he hadn’t learned to talk without slurring with yet, but her mother had other ideas. “He reminds me of your father.” She said, long after he’d gone home, but not before Dylan spent fifteen minutes walking him to his car. The driveway was super long but her lipstick was nonexistent when she returned. That didn’t matter though, because Dylan knew what that meant. Her mom thought Paxton was charming, likable, handsome — but she also knew he was a liar and a dog. They argued for well over an hour, and she said some things she regretted but that’s what teenage girls did, they rebelled against becoming their mother all while doing so. She didn’t realize just how much he was like her father until she caught him DMing other girls on instagram and got a diamond necklace out of the deal. Still, it was clear that he could shoot a man in broad daylight and she would always be daddy’s little girl, nothing could change that.

“Daddy!” Dylan whined, clinging to her dad’s arm as they traipsed through another commercial property with their real estate agent. Today was the day she was finally going to buck up and switch locations from her dad’s pool house to an office space in scenic, downtown Rosewood. Being interviewed by magazines had been life changing, sitting front row of the hottest runways next to A-listers had its perks, doing a skincare routine video for vogue was dope, but expanding her business because the calls wouldn’t stop coming in to be styled be Dylan and her associates? That was something she’d done herself from the ground up. She’d started with styling her friends and now she was going to style the world.

( Alexa, play Successful )

Her heels were tall enough to greet God but she still only reached his shoulder. “I hope this one has vaulted ceilings.” Her tone was way past passive aggressive. She would’ve dialed it back had their agent not been set to make serious bank off of this, but had only been showing them office spaces with disgusting lighting and rude doormen. For all of their sakes, she hoped this one was better. “I need two sessions of hot yoga after the last mess you showed us, at least. My chakras are all out of wack now. Thanks a lot, A.” She was being dramatic but her dad didn’t stop her. He just smiled that infamous smile at the agent and excused himself to the back of the elevator to take a call. Dylan rolled her eyes when she caught their real estate agent, Angela, fawning. She was a slender woman with the proportion of a fashion model who only modeled in theory, never practice. With cropped hair and full lips. She’d been their families real estate agent for decades, found the house her mom had one in the divorce, but Dylan couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d slept with her dad while he was married to her mom, and for that she hated her.

The light dinged to signal they were at their floor, and the elevator doors slid open. When she bothered lifting them from a lengthy text she was typing to her beau, her eyes lit up like when her dad gifted her a patek for her eighteenth, or the G-Wagon that was still collecting dust in the garage for her sixteenth. Whatever the occasion was, she was aglow just like then. The floors were European oak, all the walls were white sans a charcoal accent wall that would be the space of her future desk, and yes, the ceilings were vaulted with windows to match. It was beyond.

“Daddy!” She squealed, running around the space and dreaming up renovation ideas. “This is the one. It’s, like, perfect.” Dylan ignored the real estate agent when she repeated the price tag. 1.2 million may have been a lot for some people, but some people weren’t his little girl and Angela should have known that by now. “Wait. I need to call Chanel!”‌ Dylan could bet she’d be calling Chanel the day Play got down on one knee ( What?‌ A girl could dream ) before she even said yes. She was greeted with a selfie when she unlocked her phone, tapping her chanel platform sneaker clad foot against the wood while the facetime call connected, “What do you think about staining the floor another color?” She asked before absolutely beaming when Chanel’s face appeared on the screen.

“I found it! I found the perfect space.”‌ Without another word, she flipped the camera and did a little dance when Chanel’s excitement nearly exceeded hers. She knew a squeal of absolute glee when she heard one, “I know! Ok, so Just imagine a chaise here, we can install some shelves here. Do you think we can get a Prosecco fountain?…” She walked her through the office like Angela had done moments before, moving out of earshot so her dad could handle business, while they discussed all the possibilities. “Today an office with a view, tomorrow Dylan Davenport’s Fashion Academy,” she beamed.

All her daddy had to do was sign on the dotted line, and she knew he would. He was, after all, her doer. He wouldn’t dare break that illusion…right? The journey from the bathroom back to the main area of the office space was a short one, and she was all smiles until she rounded the corner only for her dream to turn into a nightmare. Her face cracked along with the screen of her phone as it hit the ground and shattered, “DADDY!” She screamed. The sight of her dad and Angela kissing over paperwork causing her to gag instantly.

“Honey, let me explain…..”

There was nothing to explain. Horrible step parents was Jasper’s lane, not hers.

( Alexa, play Ring Off )

ANYTHING ELSE?

1985.

[xanthiccircuitry]

Physical

Word count: 1,462

Chapter: 1/?

Characters: Thor (Marvel), Loki (Marvel), minor OCs

Summary: A poisoned relationship leaves Thor and Loki in a different world; the journey has them different than they were before. The two of them will have to sort out their differences and build their relationship if they ever hope to return to normal. The antidote? Well, they might have to get physical.

Warnings: This fic will have nsfw content in later chapters, there will be heavy conversation between the two and violence of a non-serious sort (this is explained within)

Translations provided at the end of the chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel, it's characters, or entities.

Fic under the cut

This wasn't a fun experience, in fact, it was so incredibly bad that he'd run out of things to call it. First they get transported to some strange alter dimension with different gods, rules, and temperatures and now this?! Someone knocked on the door and he flung it open, glaring down at the green-and-black clad figure standing there. Sparks literally flew from around him, lightning drawing up within him - which, he decided, wasn't a bad feeling, if a little unwanted.

“Hello, brother…”

It was weird hearing his own voice from the perspective of another, “So help me, Thor, the next words out of your mouth better be 'Sorry’ and 'Here’s the antidote.’ Understand?”

The figure that was not Thor but also was Thor looked down for a moment and then back up, “I'm not happy about it either!”

Loki growled loudly and turned away from the door, pinching the brow of his (well, not his) nose. Ysmir this was confusing!

“Huir vin?” A small voice spoke up, light but full of regal authority. Loki turned back, eyes locking on the figure of an ellith, that's what they called themselves, the females. These weren't the elves of their Alfheim, they were different elves with different names and much different customs. The queen had long hair of copper fire, she was shapely and beautiful, but all elves of this world were fair, he supposed. Her dress was finely made, a light gown with a cloak made to look like the night sky, full of stars; the contrast of the dark sky and her white skin complimented her well. Her eyes sparkled mischievously and were he not currently inhabiting the body of his (adoptive) brother, he might have appreciated it more.

“You brought a guest.” Thor gave him a cutting look that Loki did appreciate, glad to know that his face did look good when he did that.

“This is Queen Laerwen, daughter of the spring. She can help us.” Loki raised a brow, almost positive that something between their language and Allspeak was lost.

“How do you know she can help us?”

“Don't be rude.”

Loki placed a hand on his chest in offense, “Me? I'm never rude!”

Thor did the firm stance he was known for in Loki's body and it very much did not have the same effect, “Quiet!”

Laerwen waited for them to finish before speaking, “I see a bit of ill luck has befallen the two of you, your feär appear to be in the wrong places.”

Loki resisted the urge the say something snarky, “And can you replace them?”

Laerwen smiled softly, shaking her head, “Oh no, I cannot place your feär back in their right places. Only you can do that. I can help you facilitate the transaction.”

Normally Thor was the one who was quick to jump to rash decisions, but it was Loki who quickly and firmly said, “Now.”

Thor looked genuinely concerned for a moment but brushed it aside, “Ahem, how will this be done, exactly?”

“To understand that, you will need to understand the nature of the feä and how it works. You may wish to take a seat.”

Loki took a breath to calm himself, something about Thor's body really irritated him. Maybe it was his big hands, or his golden hair, or the way lightning seemed to rush through every vein and he could hear thunder in his chest, ready to do his bidding. Thor's body was so attuned with strength and absolutely all of it drove him nuts. He wasn't used to being thrown off his guard like this, normally he'd be the one in charge of his form change and this was decidedly not that. Thor, however, didn't seem to be having any trouble with his body and that made him a little more irritable than he already was.

Laerwen kindly gestured to an adjacent room that he hadn't had the time or obligation to explore thusly and walked into herself. With no choice, the brothers followed and took seats in the well-made, comfy chairs that did nothing to put Loki at ease. Thor put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, squeezing a little as if he could sense Loki's turmoil.

Loki brushed the hand away, “It's your fault we're in this mess.” He hissed softly.

“Are you ready?” Laerwen asked, eyes alight with amusement.

Thor responded, “Yes.” at the same time, Loki responded, “Get on with it.” Thor threw a glare that Loki missed.

Graciously, the queen ignored the rude remark, “Feär are your starlight. They are you, they have existed for far longer than the shells they house themselves in, and will exist after those shells are broken. Feä exist as much on a physical level as a magical and spiritual one. Feä are not known to make mistakes, nor “switch” as yours have, but things happen. I believe your brother said--.”

“That he was a massive idiot? That he intentionally threw us into an unknown portal with no inkling of where it might take us?!” Loki snapped.

“Brother, enough! It was better than letting us get killed! Let her speak. You are disrespecting a Queen! One who has not only taken us in but is also going to help us fix our problem!” Thor said harshly,

Loki snarled at him, getting up. “I have never been known to be very respectful of royalty, brother.” Venom was poured into his words and were it not for an extreme cold rush that ran over the both of them, they might have continued to argue.

“What did I miss?” The form of a man appeared in the window, eyes still glowing from blowing a wash of icy flame into the room.

“Merely the bickering of feä, melethron.” Laerwen replied easily, “This is my King, Calenguard, son of the leaves, not that the title means anything to you, Loki of Jotunheim.” She smirked and Loki straightened his back, smoothed his tunic, and sat down.

-Now he was positive something was lost in translation.-

The cold had brought him back to his senses, the only way to fix this was to get the antidote from these(?) Elves(?). He wasn't so sure what the male was, he didn't look like any dragon he'd ever seen. He was tall, taller than Thor most likely, broad but not quite as thickly muscled. His face held the same fine features that elves possessed but his eyes were neither one color nor another, sometimes turning to slits when the light hit just right. His waterline was ringed in black, and there seemed to be pale silver-green scales around his eyes, more visible around his ears which, while pointed, had a different angle than the other elves. His hair was long and silver blond melting into a soft forest green, his eyebrows following suit.

“Bickering feä, you say? That reminds me of us, Mîr nin.” The dragon elf breathed, his throat glowing silver as tiny snowflakes came out of his mouth.

“As I was going to say, your brother told me you two have been in a bit of a disagreement. In which case the two of you are having a very special moment with your feär.” Laerwen continued, the king at her side bringing the temperature in the room down several degrees simply by being there.

“Because of our disagreement, the feär have made a special mistake?” Loki asked, hoping this wasn't going where he thought it was going.

“It's not a mistake at all. The two of you have poisoned yourselves with malcontent, your “antidote” must be the resolution of these emotions.”

Loki facepalmed, “We've tried, for centuries…”

“Then might I suggest a different tactic?” Calenguard spoke up, continuing when he was met with silence, “Your feär have forced you into each other's shoes. This would be an excellent time to get to know each other's strengths and weaknesses. Train against one another, let your emotions out physically until your bare the root of your problem.”

“You might find it smaller than you know.” Laerwen finished, standing to join her king. “There is a doorway here, and beyond it, a small clearing with walls and some trees. Use it for your training, it is private.”

She gestured to the door, partially hidden in the design of the wall, and then said goodbye to each of them along with a sincere gesture that she hoped they worked it out.

~

Privately, in their own rooms, the king and queen shared a glass of wine. “Do you think the problem is..îr?” Laerwen asked with a knowing look.

Calenguard openly laughed, “Almost entirely. As was our own.”

Laerwen frowned a bit, “I was never so difficult.”

“Mmhmmm.”

~

“Did they just...tell us to fight it out?” Loki looked at Thor, then at the door, then back at Thor.

“...maybe?”

To be continued

Translations

Huir vin- My lord(s)

Melethron- My love (male)

Mîr nin- My treasure

Îr- Desire

[sunriserose1023]

Music, Black Coffee, and Lemon Blueberry Scones

Here’s my entry for Mimi’s Trope Challenge!

PROMPT: Coffee Shop AU CHARACTERS: Female reader, John Winchester, Charlie Bradbury, Castiel, Chuck Shurley, Meg Masters, Krissy, Claire Novak, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mary Winchester (these last 7 are just mentioned) RATING: Mature WORD COUNT: 6413 WARNINGS: THIS IS AN AU; language, angst, moment of suspense, fluff, flashbacks are in italics

TAGS: @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog, @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash, @mrs-squirrel-chester, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @crzcorgi, @winchesterswoonathon, @winchesterenthusiast, @kittenofdoomage

Charlie’s eyes were wide when you walked into the shop. She looked to the big clock on the wall, confusion coloring her features. You walked behind the counter, and she leaned on the register.

“Morning, boss.” “Don’t call me that.”

Charlie smiled, glancing towards the door, and when she didn’t see a customer, she spoke again.

“Long night?” “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Charlie winced.

“That bad?” “Can we not do this?”

Charlie watched as you fixed yourself a white chocolate mocha, expertly going through the steps to create the drink without even thinking. When you placed the lid on the coffee cup, you turned to her.

“On the off-chance he comes in, don’t tell him I’m here. And you know what, don’t tell me if he comes by either.” “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” “Absolutely sure. I’m going to the office. Don’t bother me.”

Charlie watched you walk away, flinching when your office door slammed. She nodded, glancing at the clock again, then going to fix Mrs. Greene’s morning hot chocolate.

John could tell what kind of mood she was in by the music playing in the coffee shop. There were all but no customers during the night shift, and John had asked her many times why she even bothered to stay open so late. She was a night owl, she said. She liked staying up late, and she might as well use the time to work—or better yet, to prepare for the next day. Plus, no customers meant she could turn the music up as loud as she wanted.

Showtunes were the best nights. When he walked in to hear her singing “Defying Gravity” at the top of her lungs, he couldn’t help but burst into applause. When she finished laughing at him, she took a bow. He was almost brought to tears when she softly sang “Bring Him Home” while she was kneading dough for some of her homemade cinnamon bread. And the night she tried to teach him the words to “The Surrey with the Fringe on Top,” they both laughed until they cried.

He knew to be quiet when she played James Taylor. The songs reminded her of her mother, of easier times, and sometimes, she told him, she just needed to feel sad. The first time he saw her cry was during “Fire and Rain,” and that was also the first time he held her, until she stopped crying and they both realized they were swaying to the music.

Sometimes she felt like dancing, and that was an eclectic mix of songs. Everything from “I’m So Excited” to “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go.” She loved to clean while blasting John Mellancamp, and when she felt like cooking a ton, Billy Joel filled the speakers.

The first night he ever stepped foot into the shop, she was blaring “Crocodile Rock.”

It took him a moment to recognize the song, but when he did, he smiled.

“Excuse me.”

Her eyes were big as saucers when she stepped out from the tiny kitchen. She blinked, showcasing pretty eyelashes to go along with her pretty eyes, and she stuttered for a moment before she got her bearings.

“We—we don’t usually ha—have customers this late.” “Didn’t you just open?”

She blinked, then nodded.

“Well, y—yes, but in the past week, we haven’t had any customers this late.”

John couldn’t help but smile, and he stepped forward, extending his hand.

“John Winchester. I’m a detective with the police force.”

He could see the relief color her features as she set her hand in his.

“Y/N. I just moved here to open this shop.”

John nodded as he shook her hand, then let it go. He moved to put his hands in his pockets, and she smoothed her hands down the apron she wore. As “Levon” began to sound through the speakers, he smiled again.

“You a big Elton John fan?”

She blushed as she nodded.

“I’m a big fan of the oldies. My parents raised me on classic rock.” “Sound like my kind of people.”

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and gave him a smile.

“Can I interest you in a cup of coffee?”

From that night on, as soon as John clocked in and did as little paperwork as he could get away with, he got in his car and drove to the coffee shop. He’d call it patrolling if the captain or anyone tried to give him shit about it, but the town was usually quiet, so no one really cared that much. There were four detectives that worked his shift, plus a ton of policemen, so no one really noticed that John kept disappearing.

And on nights that he wasn’t working but managed to go to the shop anyway, he just chalked it up to leftover PTSD from his Marine days. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since Vietnam, but that was par for the course.

He let out a sigh and realized he’d been standing at the door to the coffee shop for … well, he didn’t even know how long. He huffed out a breath, laying his hand on the handle, giving it a push.

The door didn’t budge, and John immediately moved one hand to his back, fingers itching to go for the gun he kept in his waistband. He stopped, though, when he heard the music suddenly stop, switching to a different song. John closed his eyes, letting his head fall against the door when he recognized Carly Simon’s voice, the lyrics burning into his brain as the song skipped to the second verse.

“You had me several years ago, When I was still quite naïve. When you said we made such a pretty pair, And that you would never leave.

But you gave away the things you loved, And one of them was me.”

The music abruptly stopped, and John rapped his knuckles against the door.

“We’re closed!” “Y/N, please. Open the door and let me explain.”

John lifted his head, only to see her standing in the empty coffee shop, arms crossed over her chest and a hurt look on her face.

“You don’t have to explain anything, John.” “Open the door.” “We’re closed.” “You never close.” “Well, it’s a new thing I just started up. You understand that, right?”

John hung his head, letting out a breath.

“Come on, sweetheart.”

She scoffed, shaking her head.

“Go away, John. There’s nothing you can say that I want to hear.”

John nodded, watching as she turned away from him, walking back into the shop, turning the music back on. Carly Simon was gone, and in her place was a voice John wasn’t familiar with. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard this artist before. The music was gentle, easy listening for sure, but the voice was … hauntingly beautiful. It didn’t matter what she sang; it sounded sad, melancholy even, but beautiful.

John stuck his hands in his pockets, leaving the door to the shop, walking to his car, opening the door and sitting in the driver’s seat. He didn’t start the car but just sat there, watching the shop all night long.

You walked back into the kitchen, doing your best to hold back the tears. God, sometimes you really hated being as sensitive as you were. You sniffled, running your sleeve under your nose, then walked to the sink, washing your hands before grabbing bowls from the cabinet. You set them down harshly, then grabbed the different ingredients you needed.

You measured out flour and sugar, dropping them into different bowls, absentmindedly singing along with Lana del Rey whenever you knew a lyric. You loved her music, only because no matter what she was singing, it held a melancholy tone. It wasn’t until you’d put the pans into the ovens that you realized what you’d made.

You stomped your foot, then crouched down, putting your head in your hands and your elbows on your knees.

Damn John Winchester and his stupid penchant for lemon blueberry scones.

“Here. Try this.” “What is it?” “Lemon blueberry scone.” “What the hell is a scone?”

You laughed, holding the pastry towards him.

“This is a scone.”

He made a face, and you couldn’t help but laugh again.

“Just try it. You might like it.”

He sighed, but took a bite, chewing slowly before catching your eye.

“Wow.” “Good?”

The big bite he took answered your question. You grinned as he finished off the scone, nodding at you when you refilled his coffee cup.

“You made that from scratch?”

You pursed your lips as you nodded.

“My mom taught me how to bake. We spent almost all of our time in the kitchen.”

You closed your eyes, a smile on your lips as John gently rubbed his big hand over your back.

“Detective! Back so soon?”

John smiled as he stepped inside the door, immediately shrugging his coat off.

“Trust me, sweetheart, you are much better company than those jerks down at the station.” “Yet you always leave here with your arms full of coffee for them.”

John shrugged his shoulders and you laughed. He walked over and sat down at the bar and you grabbed a pot of coffee in one hand, a mug in the other and sat them down in front of him.

“Let me guess. You want your usual.” “Have I come in here often enough to have a usual?”

You nodded, picking up the pot and pouring steaming coffee into his mug.

“Black coffee, no sugar, no cream.”

You wrinkled your nose as you filled the mug, and John smiled. You set the pot aside and lifted your eyes to his, leaning forward and setting your forearms on the counter.

“You know, you don’t have to prove to me what a man you are. If you want a splash of hazelnut or mocha or even a cappuccino, I’ll fix it for you and take your secret to my grave.”

John threw his head back and laughed, then reached over and patted your hand.

“I’m not trying to prove anything, sweetheart. I just like my coffee to taste like coffee.” “That’s like diesel fuel, though.” “That’s how I like it.”

He winked at you, picking up the cup and taking a sip. He let out a throaty groan, then gave you a smile.

“Perfect.”

You pressed your lips together, then stared at the counter, a soft smile on your face.

“Can I ask you something?” “Anything you want, sweetheart.”

You smiled as you stopped pushing the mop and blew your bangs out of your face. You looked over to find John sprawled in one of the booths, back against the wall and long legs up on the bench in front of him, instead of your clean floor. He had a newspaper that he was reading while you cleaned, and he set it down after you asked your question. You snorted and shook your head, and John smiled at you. You licked your lips, then leaned against the mop as you spoke.

“Why do you come here every night?”

He raised one eyebrow, and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I get coming here while you’re working. And I really do appreciate you buying coffee for the other guys on your shift. But you didn’t work tonight, did you?” “What gave it away?”

You smiled, taking in his dark blue jeans and black button-up shirt, just enough buttons undone to give a view of the hair on his muscular chest. You cleared your throat.

“If it wasn’t the relaxed dress code, it sure as hell was the motorcycle.”

John laughed, sitting up more in the booth.

“You like my bike?” “You kidding? That thing is gorgeous. I’m way too scared to ride one, but I like to look.” “Oh, there’s nothing to it. I could give you a ride some time.”

You had to bite your tongue to keep from blurting out “I bet you would.” Thinking about “riding” and John in the same sentence was … you could feel your cheeks heating up, and you cleared your throat. You heard John’s soft chuckle, heard the rustle of the newspaper as he folded it.

“I come here because I like it here. I like talking to you.”

You blinked, leaning against the mop.

“Really?”

It came out quieter than you meant it to, but John heard it. He nodded, eyes darkening just a bit. You licked your lips, turning your back to him and pushing the mop forward, then back, setting up a slow rhythm. You jumped when a warm hand took hold of your elbow.

“Y/N.”

You swallowed, then turned and looked up, meeting John’s eyes. You blinked, then spoke in a whisper.

“What is this?”

John smiled.

“What do you want it to be?”

You blinked again.

“What do you want it to be?”

John smiled again, and you sucked in a breath when his hand came to rest on the side of your neck. Your eyes stayed locked on his as he lowered his head, and your eyes fluttered closed the second his lips pressed to yours.

It took everything in you not to throw the mop on the floor and wrap your arms around his neck. Instead, you managed to stay still, your lips moving against his, letting out a soft whimper of discontent when he pulled away from you.

“That answer your question?”

You stood there, frozen in shock as he turned away from you, gathering his coat and whistling under his breath as he walked out the door. You watched him go, and it was only when the door closed behind him that you let out a rush of breath, moving one hand to press against your chest.

You blew out a breath, standing up and wiping your hands over your face. You sniffled and walked to the sink, carrying your dirty dishes there and filling the sink with warm, soapy water. You sighed, starting to wash the dishes slowly. You pulled the scones out of the oven, wrapped them up for tomorrow, and baked a few more batches of muffins, brownies, and cupcakes.

You glanced around the kitchen at three in the morning, letting out a sigh. You were usually occupied until the sun came up, hours spent just sitting and talking with John. You hung your head, letting out a sigh, then cleaned up the kitchen. You turned off the lights and walked through the shop, unlocking the front door, locking it behind you, walking down the steps and coming to a hard stop.

“John?”

You watched as he took a drag from a cigarette, exhaling a stream of smoke before dropping the cigarette and crushing it beneath the heel of his boot. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked forward, stopping near you. You blinked, tightening your hold on your purse.

“What are you doing here?”

He glanced back at the nondescript car, then to you.

“I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” “You’ve been sitting out here all night?” “Well, I did go down to the 7-11 for a cup of coffee.” “Are you kidding me?” “My favorite shop was closed.”

You closed your eyes, letting out a sigh.

“I’m sorry.” “Hey.”

He reached out, taking your hand, and you looked down before you met his eyes. He gave you a soft smile, murmuring as he looked at you.

“I know I fucked up here.” “Understatement.”

He nodded.

“Okay. Just … let me know what to do to fix it.”

You sighed.

“John, we—“ “Y/N, please.”

You licked your lips as you looked up at him.

“I’m just busy for the next few days. Meg had to fly to California for some reason, so I’m working the lunch shift tomorrow.” “So you’re up until four A.M. why?”

You pushed his shoulder, making him smile. You shook your head.

“Someone has to make the muffins we sell, you know.” “And scones?”

You rolled your eyes, looking down at your hand, still intertwined with his.

“Just give me a few days, please.”

John nodded.

“Just a few?”

You nodded, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to your cheek.

“If you change your mind, give me a call.”

You nodded again, and smiled to yourself as John walked you to your car.

You yawned as you fixed yet another cup of espresso, gritting your teeth when you heard the customer pronounce it like “expresso.” You shook your head, pouring the hot liquid into a cup, then setting up for another shot for an iced … something.

God, you hated the day shift. And you were the boss.

You yawned again, ears perking up when you noticed the music abruptly stop. The shop went quiet, and you leaned forward, resting your head on the corner wall before standing up and heading towards the stereo. You stopped when the music started back up, different than the song that had been playing, and halfway through the current song.

Realization hit you like a fist to the gut, and you couldn’t move as you listened to John Denver’s words.

“Our friends all ask about you, And I say you’re doing fine, And I expect to hear from you almost any time. But they all know I’m crying And I can’t sleep at night. They all know I’m dying down deep inside.

I’m sorry for all the lies I told you. I’m sorry for the things I didn’t say. More than anything else, I’m sorry for myself.”

The music cut off and you blinked back tears as you stepped around the corner. John was standing in the middle of the shop, wearing a grey shirt with his leather jacket over it. He held a white mug in his hand, and he took a sip from it before setting it on a table near him, nodding to Chuck behind the bar. He looked to you and gave you a soft smile, taking his phone back from Chuck and turning on his heel, leaving the shop.

The bell above the door jingled like a crash of thunder, and you turned to see Krissy and Claire exchanging looks and Charlie starting to come around the register for you. You shook your head and ran from them all, straight to your office in the back of the shop.

You were worthless the rest of that day. After you (thought you’d) gained control of your emotions and subsequently burned an entire pot of coffee, Charlie banished you to your office. You decided to close up the shop at seven, because no one deserved coffee after that.

Well … not today, anyway.

You shook your head, closing the payroll book you’d been working on and gathering your purse. You kept your head down as you locked up the store and went to your car, and you didn’t even check to see if John was keeping watch outside. You didn’t check your phone either, on the off-chance that he might have texted you.

You just couldn’t deal with anything right then.

You looked up after you put your car in park, wondering how in the hell you’d made it home. You ran a hand down your face, wanting nothing more than a long soak in a bubble bath, a glass or six of wine, and twelve or more uninterrupted hours of sleep.

Hey, a girl can dream.

You walked up the stairs to your apartment, tilting your neck from side-to-side, wincing at the popping sound you heard. You dug your keys out of your purse—why you always drop them back in your purse after taking them out of the ignition in your car, you still can’t figure out. You went to put the key in the lock and stopped, noticing that your door wasn’t shut.

A chill rolled down your spine as you glanced through the sliver of your open door, and you backed away, heading back to the stairs and walking down until you could see through the front door in the lobby. You dug your phone out of your purse and dialed a number closing your eyes until that deep, raspy voice filled your ear.

“Y/N?” “I need your help.” “What’s wrong?” “Someone’s in my apartment.”

Less than ten minutes later, you heard the screech of tires. You watched John’s long body unfold from the car, and you watched him ignore the people behind him as he jogged to your complex’s front door, pulling it open.

You’d launched yourself off the steps before you realized what you were doing, and he held you tightly as you cried into his chest. Men shuffled past you, going up the stairs, and it wasn’t until you were alone that John spoke.

“Are you okay?”

You sniffled and nodded.

“I—I just noticed that the—the door was cracked. I did—didn’t go in.” “Good. Good girl. Come on, let’s go sit down.”

He led you to one of the couches in the lobby, and you put your head in your hands. John gently rubbed your back, until you lifted your head and looked at him.

“I’m sorry.” “Hey. What are you apologizing for?”

You shook your head, looking down at your hands.

“I didn’t know who else to call.”

John leaned down to where you were face-to-face.

“I don’t give a fuck what kind of shit we’ve got going on. Always call me.”

Tears filled your eyes, and you nodded. He leaned in and kissed your forehead, then stood up.

“I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, watching as he walked to an officer, both of them talking softly. John used his hands when he talked, and you couldn’t help but smile. John walked to the stairs, speaking to a different person there, and the officer walked over, crouching down in front of you, his blue eyes bright and kind.

“It’s going to take a while for them to finishing taking prints and stuff. Is there someone you can call, someone you can stay with?”

You blinked, mind going blank. You nodded, pushing a hand through your hair.

“I, uh … I can—I can call and see. Maybe I can stay with Meg. Or—no, she’s out of town.”

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your eyes.

“She can stay with me.”

You looked over, watching as John walked back over, extending a hand to you. You laid your hand in his, standing to your feet, and John looped your hand through his arm. You shook your head.

“John, I can’t ask you to—“ “You didn’t. But I’m not leaving you alone tonight.” “I can call Meg.” “Meg’s gone, remember?”

You groaned, putting a hand to your head. John patted your hand, looking up to the officer.

“Call me with any news, Novak.”

The officer nodded and John started walking, forcing you to walk beside him. He opened the door for you and you sat in his classic car, letting your head fall back on the seat. John sat down and started up the car, one hand immediately reaching over to turn the radio up just a bit. You smiled, closing your eyes as Led Zeppelin came thumping quietly through the speakers.

You opened your eyes when John pulled up to his house, and a smile came over your face. You’d driven by the farmhouse a few times, but you never imagined John was the one who lived there. You knew he had kids—he’d talked about them a few times before, but they were both moved out. One was a military policeman (because apples don’t fall far from trees), the other in law school.

You opened your door and climbed out before John could get to you, stretching your arms above your head. You let out a yawn, then followed John inside. Inside was homey, and it smelled like a man lived there, but in the most delicious way.

“Can I get you anything?”

You smiled, following him into the kitchen. You immediately spotted the coffeepot and went for it, expertly measuring out the grounds you’d convinced him to buy from you at the shop, then scooping it into the filter.

“I should have known.”

You let out a laugh, turning and resting your back against the counter as the coffeemaker went to work. You crossed your arms over your chest as John sat in one of the tall barstools, giving a quiet groan as he did. You took in a breath, then let it out.

“Do you have any Tylenol? I’m getting a headache.”

John smiled softly.

“Cabinet above the microwave.”

You walked there and opened the door, finding the industrial-size bottle and letting out a laugh. John shrugged his shoulders and smiled, and you shook two pills from the bottle and popped them into your mouth. John handed you a glass of water and you nodded as you took a sip, sighing when you swallowed the pills.

“Thanks.” “No problem.”

The aroma of coffee filled the air and you inhaled, closing your eyes.

“This seems eerily familiar.”

You snorted, stepping away from him and opening cabinets until you found the one that held the cups. You pulled two down and set them up, expertly pouring the coffee and setting John’s cup on the counter, then walking to his refrigerator and pulling out the milk for yours.

“I like this.”

You lifted your eyes from your cup, seeing his smile as he lifted the cup to his lips.

“What?” “You making yourself at home in my kitchen.”

You blinked, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry.” “No, I … did you just hear me? I said I liked it.”

You set your cup aside, rubbing a hand over your eyes.

“I’m so tired.”

You shook your head, lifting your eyes to meet his.

“I can’t deal with anything else tonight. Not us or the fact that there isn’t an us or … anything.”

John nodded, taking another sip of his coffee. He stood up, motioning for you to follow him. The two of you walked up the stairs, and you stopped outside of a room with a huge four-poster bed. John went to the dresser and dug out a pair of plaid pajama pants.

“The boys’ rooms haven’t really been touched since they left. I’m kind of scared of what I might find in there, to be honest.”

You couldn’t help the laugh, and he continued.

“There’s a bathroom right through there if you want to shower or anything. I’ll be downstairs on the couch if you need anything.” “John, I don’t want to kick you out of your bed.” “It’s comfortable. You need rest. Just yell if you need me.” “John.”

He went to walk by you and you reached out, grabbing hold of his arm. You shook your head, speaking softly.

“I’m sorry.” “Stop apologizing. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

He leaned in, placing his lips against your forehead, and you closed your eyes.

“Get some rest.”

You tightened your hold on his arm, making him stop again, and you went up on your toes, softly pressing your lips to his. You went back to your flat feet and sighed.

“Thank you. For everything.”

He nodded, then turned and walked down the stairs. You watched him go, then went to the bathroom, undressing and going for the shower. It took you a moment to figure out the faucets and how the water would work, but you finally got it, groaning as you stepped under the warm spray. You washed your hair with his shampoo, taking a long smell of his body wash before using it, too. You wrapped yourself in a fluffy, comfortable towel, leaving the bathroom and realizing you didn’t have anything to wear but what you’d arrived in.

You dug around in the dresser until you found John’s undershirts, and you slid the white t-shirt over your head, closing your eyes when the smell of him surrounded you. You sighed and climbed into the big bed, snuggling down under the covers and closing your eyes.

You woke gasping for breath, eyes darting around the dark room, fingers clutching the blankets you were wrapped in. You pushed them off, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. You rocked back and forth for a few moments, letting out shaky breaths.

You finally climbed off the bed, walking down the stairs and seeing John sprawled on the sofa, blanket tangled around his legs, no shirt on his bare chest, one arm propped behind his head. He was snoring softly, and you sat on the steps, just watching him for a moment.

You sniffled and stood up, making your way down the rest of the steps, noticing that the third to last one gave a creak when you stepped on it. John was blinking his eyes open when you rounded the couch, and he went to sit up, confusion evident on his face. You shook your head, taking hold of the blanket around his legs and pulling it free, wrapping it over your shoulders and lying on the couch beside him. He shifted, until you were lying on top of him, and he fixed the blanket, then wrapped you in his arms.

“You okay?”

His voice was thick with sleep, somehow deeper than normal. You shook your head, then readjusted, resting your head on his chest.

“Nightmare.”

John’s arm tightened around you, and you burrowed closer to him.

“What can I do?”

You sighed, moving to lay a hand over his chest, feeling his heart thump under your hand.

“You’re doing it.”

John nodded, pushing his fingers through your hair. He took in a deep breath, exhaling a yawn. You smiled, closing your eyes, exhaling softly as you drifted to sleep.

You woke up alone, wrapped up in the blanket, the sun shining in through the windows. You blinked as you sat up, rubbing your eyes and yawning.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

You felt your cheeks flush as you glanced back, to see John standing in the doorway. He must have just gotten up, because his hair was still ruffled from sleep, and he didn’t have a shirt on. He walked over and sat on the coffee table before you, handing you a cup of coffee. You smiled and took a sip. John sighed.

“It’s awful, isn’t it?”

You swallowed, then covered your mouth with a hand.

“Oh dear God. No wonder you’re in the shop all the time.”

John laughed, taking another sip from his mug, grimacing as he swallowed. You shook your head, standing up and keeping the blanket wrapped around you, taking the cup from his hand and going to the kitchen, emptying the coffee he’d made and starting a new pot.

“I’m sorry.”

You glanced over your shoulder, seeing John sitting where he’d been the night before, in the tall barstool. You shook your head.

“For what?”

John sighed, and you took in a breath, glancing out the window over the sink, seeing the overcast sky.

“We’re doing this now.” “Good a time as any, right?”

You pushed a hand through your hair, rolling your eyes at the wavy mess, since you didn’t blow dry it … or brush it the night before. You walked to the sink and began rinsing out the mugs from the night before and this morning. It was quiet for a moment, until John broke the silence.

“I shouldn’t have done it.”

You snorted.

“Which part?” “Y/N—“ “No, I’d like an answer. You shouldn’t have stood me up, or you shouldn’t have brought another woman into my coffee shop on a date?”

John blinked, then spoke again.

“It wasn’t a date.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you picked up a rag and began drying the mugs.

“Two people having coffee, talking and clearly enjoying each other’s company. God, what was I thinking? Doesn’t sound like a date to me.” “You’re bitey when you’re mad.”

You closed your eyes, taking in a deep breath, breathing in the aroma of the coffee that was dripping into the pot. You turned around, meeting John’s eyes.

“You come to the shop every night, whether you’re working or not. We have a good time together, or I thought that we had a good time together. I guess I was just stupid enough to think that we might could have fun together away from the shop.” “You’re not—you weren’t stupid to think that. I was the stupid one.”

You shook your head.

“I was so humiliated, sitting in that restaurant by myself. And the best part was the pity faces from all the people around me. I told them that I was just early, that you’d show up soon. An hour and a half later, I drove through Dairy Queen with mascara running down my face for a large cookie dough blizzard.”

John shut his eyes, pushing a hand through his hair.

“God, I’m sorry.” “And, just in case my life wasn’t a major suckfest, here you come sauntering into the café the next day with the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life on your arm. It took everything in me not to go full-on petty and pour coffee over her white dress. Or all over you.” “You wanted to pour hot coffee on me?” “I can go pretty dark.”

John couldn’t help the laugh, and you glared at him before you moved to pour two cups of freshly brewed coffee. You set his on the counter in front of him—black, just how he liked it—and moved to the fridge to doctor yours. You slowly moved a spoon around your mug, and John sighed before he spoke softly.

“I didn’t mean for all that to happen. I never meant to stand you up. I wish I could say I got called in to work, but … it was just me.” “Why, John? Why even ask me if you weren’t going to show?” “I showed.”

You shook your head.

“I waited an hour and a half for you. I left because the restaurant was closing.”

John nodded.

“I know. I … I sat in the car outside.”

You set your cup on his granite countertop.

“Are you kidding me?” “I wish I was.” “You let me sit there and stew in my humiliation while you watched from the parking lot?” “No. No, it … it wasn’t like that.”

You rubbed your eyes, walking back to his cabinet and fishing out two more Tylenols, trying to combat the headache you could feel brewing behind your eyes. After you’d swallowed the pills, you looked back to the counter, seeing John staring down at his hands.

“The last time I felt that way about a date … was the first time I ate dinner with my wife.”

You didn’t say anything, and he quietly went on.

“I was so nervous. My hands were shaking when I opened the car door for her, when I pulled out her chair. She laughed at me all night long. I fell in love with her while I watched her sip her chocolate milkshake.”

You couldn’t help but smile, wondering if the blonde woman you’d seen in a few pictures around the house was the wife he was talking about. He cleared his throat, still staring at his hands as he spoke.

“She died when my youngest son was a baby, and I … I haven’t dated. It’s been twenty-four years since she died. I had to raise my boys, then I had to make detective. There were more important things than dating.”

He lifted his head, dark eyes locked on you.

“Then you moved here and fucked my world up.”

You blinked, and he smiled as he spoke.

“You’re funny, and you don’t try to be. You’ve got excellent taste in music, and you make a kick-ass cup of coffee. You’re kind, but you’ve got a sharp tongue when you’re angry. You’re tender-hearted, a great singer, an incredible baker. Not to mention the fact that you’re beautiful.”

You blinked again, and John shook his head.

“I didn’t want to mess that up. You deserve better than me.”

You slowly nodded.

“So you sat in your car and watched me, and convinced yourself of that?”

John nodded.

“You’re an idiot.”

He blinked, and you shook your head, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Seeing you is the highlight of my day. I love it when you come in with that badge shining. I love seeing you relaxed when it’s your day off, wearing those ripped jeans and riding your Harley. The look in your eyes whenever I pull out a tray of scones or when Black Sabbath somehow appears in the shuffle of my music on my phone makes me happy. I love hearing you talk about your boys. And when I’m in a mood and you come in and just sit … you don’t try to talk to me, but you listen to me ramble, or you offer a shoulder if I need it … that’s what cemented it for me.” “Cemented what?”

You set your cup on the counter, pulling the blanket closer around you as you met his eyes.

“That I love you.”

John blinked, and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Being stood up sucked, but seeing you walk into the café the next day made it all go away. I felt like nothing had even happened. Until I saw that woman behind you.” “She’s the new A.D.A. in town.”

You narrowed your eyes, and John sighed.

“She’s new to town, and I was showing her around. Literally a work thing. I just … didn’t make it seem that way.” “Because you were trying to push me away.”

John pursed his lips, then nodded. You snorted, shaking your head.

“You’re an idiot.” “I know.”

You walked over to him, leaning against the counter beside him as he looked into your eyes. You spoke softly, barely above a murmur.

“Don’t do that to me again.” “I won’t.” “You get one strike, and you already wasted it.” “Noted.”

You glanced down at his hands, reaching over to link your fingers with his. He moved his other hand to your face, holding it to your cheek, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.

[tkd505]

Chapter I

Mountain View was a breath of fresh air within a country holding her breath in apprehensive anticipation for the impending war. A study in balance: Google’s futuristic Waymo cars countered by their technicolored community bikes, the technologically advanced techies of the city stopping to eat at dingy holes in the wall filled with traditional fare. Such dichotomy of high-tech discovery and small-town culture was further manifested in the variegated  Businessmen dressed like stay-at-home dads: cheesy t-shirts and denim jeans, lots of cas-u-al, except Barbecue Dad of Indiana (or some other equally suburban American town) would never be jabbering away about the newest Google Glass advancements on the bus to Hacker Dojo, nor would the briefcase being unpacked in Red Rock be filled with blueprints for a Hyperloop dream.

Furthermore, Barbecue Dad of Indiana would probably be absolutely scandalized to be sitting next to people of all ages, sexualities, and skin colors. Diversity? Sorry, “diversity” is a feature only available in the Bay Area. Check back in a few years, or join our mailing list for updates on the social politics of America!

When Lia was little, she would find comfort in the certainty of unchanging things: there was a small maple tree in front of her  cream-colored house on Franklin Street, where her  mother and father would be sitting on a couch in front of the fireplace, watching Law & Order, probably.

“Mom, can we move the couch to the side?” Lia asked one Christmas in kindergarten.

“And why on earth would we do that?” Back then, Lia had thought her quite slow on the uptake. Lately, it had been getting clearer that she simply did not understand her daughter very well.

“So that Santa can go through the Floo, obviously,” Lia replied.

“Alan, have you been reading her Harry Potter again?” Maybe she was slow on the uptake, after all. Lia tugged on her mother’s hand.

“Mom, I told you, they’re real,” Lia insisted, “I’ve met them- they’re Fritz and Percy at school!”

“Lia, just because they look like characters from a book doesn’t mean the story is real,” her mother smiled, a bit condescendingly.

She jutted her  chin out in stubbornness, about to retort, when her  dad jumped in.

“Lia, sweetie,” he knelt down next to me, “Hush up and go to bed.” He leaned in to whisper into her  ear, “I promise I’ll move the couch at midnight for Santa, alright? Just go to sleep for now.”

He carried her to her room and Lia crawled into her pile fluffy red comforters.

“Daddy?” He paused, halfway out the door, light-switch flickering at a middle.

“Yes?”

“Do wizards have Santa?” Lia mumbled, half asleep. He chuckled, but she spoke again before he could respond.

“Do you and mommy love each other?” she heard a sharp inhale of breath, and braced herself.

“Some questions can’t be answered,” he said softly. “I think… wizards don’t have Santa. Magic is a good enough gift, and no one needs to deliver that.”

He closed the door, and Lia nodded despite the fact no one could see her. She understood what he meant, and for the first time in her life, she felt wholly unsure of everything she knew.

Spring of third grade, Law & Order stopped airing, and the summer before fourth grade, her parents got divorced. Her mother moved out of the house, and the first thing her father did was move the couch to the side of the fireplace. Lia didn’t believe in Santa anymore, but recognized the action for what it was.

“Thank you,” she said. He hugged her tight.

After her mom left, surprisingly, little changed. Lia supposed her parents were very un-stereotypical- her mother had always at work, running off on business trips, while her dad had always been the one to stay home and cook dinner and tuck her into bed, as he was a freelance photographer. “More time to spend with my angel,” he said. He gave her her first Polaroid camera on her fourth birthday, a clunky white OneStep with the rainbow stripe. Her mother had been in Dubai on another business trip, and he drove her up to the city and we walked all over, snapping photos.

“Daddy, are cameras magic?” Lia’s four-year-old self had been absolutely giddy with the power she wielded within the instant pictures.

“A bit,” he responded thoughtfully. “It’s magical how you can capture the meaning of a moment in time.”

“Mhm!” she nodded earnestly, not really understanding what she was agreeing with, “Cameras must be mind-readers!”

“What?” he paused to look down at her on the sidewalk of Market.

“They read your mind,” Lia insisted, “And record what you see. In your mind, obviously. See?” She pointed at the Polaroid her father was clutching in his palm she had just taken earlier. “That’s happiness. The camera read my mind!”

“That’s brilliant!” her father chuckled. The photograph really did seem to be happiness: the sunshine

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Lia?”

“Can I be like you and read minds every day for fun?”

“Of course you can,” he laughed, ruffling her hair, “Anyone can be a photographer. All you need,” he said seriously, “is a good pair of shoes and to fall in love.” He smiled wistfully.