#but also i was recently in a bookstore where someone in the aisle next to me Loudly and Proudly confused Odysseus and Oedipus

[intheorangebedroom]

Pleased to meet you, chapter 10

Summary: it's Will's birthday, and everyone gathers at his place for a nice Sunday barbecue. You choose a particular -sensible- outfit, and some decisions are made in the heat of the moment.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x French fem!Reader.

Rating: Explicit 🔞

A/N: it occurred to me recently (thank you Fanna) that some of you had subscribed to the taglist without my knowledge... I'm an unworthy idiot and thought I'd get a notif of some sort, so I never thought to check the form out. I'm very sorry. I'm insanely grateful to anyone who interacts with this story. I will never tire of thanking you.

Word Count: 7.1k (I'm very sorry, I don't know what happened, I'm blaming the Millers on this one)

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Chapter 10: The Deal

(👆🏻 as per usual, from @nicolethered 's treasure trove)

-

Catfish, noun [C] (FISH) : a fish with a flat head and long hairs around its mouth that lives in rivers or lakes.

Catfish, noun [C] (FAKE), informal: someone who pretends on social media to be someone different, in order to trick or attract other people.

Padding out of the steamy bathroom into the adjacent bedroom, you press the home screen button to close the Cambridge Dictionary app and tap open your Larousse translator.

Catfish [‘kætfiʃ] (pl catfish or catfishes), noun : poisson-chat.

None of it makes any sense to you, not in any language you know. Perhaps you should try Spanish? Putain de merde.

Benny’s resounding voice echoes from the living-room, the velvety tones brushing against your naked skin. He’s strumming his guitar to a song you recognise as Creedence Clearwater Revival’s Fortunate Son. The hand holding your phone lowers slowly, your tense shoulders dropping in slow motion as you listen.

Ben’s voice is what you like best about him. It’s the very first thing you noticed, in the hardware store aisle, and also the first that charmed you after your first couple of dates. It trickles down your spine like honey, keeps your inside warm and your mind snug, and when he sings… well, when he sings, on a normal day, it’s plenty enough to turn you on like an electrical wire, and he never gets to play very long when you’re staying at his place.

Only nothing’s normal anymore.

You stood up Rosie at the last minute on Tuesday, unable to face her in the wake of this new reality, instead showing up at work on your day off without an explanation and unilaterally deciding to undertake a thorough inventory of the bookstore. Your boss, Suzanne, was pleasantly surprised, and if something seemed off to her, she didn’t say.

When Benny told you he would see the guys again on Friday night, you attempted to talk him out of it, as subtly as you could despite your nervousness, feeling as though he could see right through you. Which he didn’t.

After closing up that evening, you walked straight to your usual deli, just around the block corner from the bookstore, where the cashier is a Moroccan grandpa with whom you chat in French, much to your delight, and who calls you “cousine”, and bought your first pack of smokes since college.

Back at your apartment, you smoked all 20 cigarettes sitting by the windowsill of your living-room, waiting for a text or a phone call from Benny that never came. He’s not in the habit of texting nor calling you, on Friday nights. He has taught himself to respect your chosen moments of aloneness, with a childlike willingness, eager to please you.

What were you so nervous about, anyway? How likely is it that Frankie would walk up to his friend to tell him, “Hey, I fucked your girlfriend fifteen years ago, and she let me do things to her that she has denied you repeatedly. Want another beer?”

Your manic brain won’t let go about it, however, no matter how sternly you reason with yourself, no matter what logic you employ. Would that eventuality be so far-fetched? You don’t know what these men share. You know nothing of the strength and nature of their bond. Only that they’re like brothers. You’re foreign to that. You’re an outsider. How can you be sure that Benny wouldn’t cut you loose without a second look if his friend told him about what happened between you? Besides, if Catfish looked at you with such unabated anger, he might very well consider it his brotherly duty to warn his friend. “She’s a liar. She’ll never call you.”

The worst being that you can’t make up your mind about what would hurt most. Benny’s abandon. Or Frankie’s betrayal.

If only you knew what the fuck “Catfish” means. If you had this one clue, you might get an understanding of the man he has become. Or so you think.

You put down your phone and retrieve a cotton t-shirt from your travel bag, laying it flat on the bed next to your jeans, smoothing over the fabric with a frown. You brought another choice of outfit, more suitable to attend a birthday party, a cute little white cotton short-sleeves button-up with a red lining around the collar, a yellow one along the button placket and a dark green one on the breast pocket.

Picking up your phone again, you briefly consider running a Google image search, for the hundredth time or so, but instead angrily toss it on the bed, where it bounces off and ends up on the wooden floor with an ominous noise.

“Et merde!”

“Ooooh she’s naked!” Benny appears on the bedroom threshold, dirty blue jeans and shabby Kiss T-shirt, his massive silhouette dwarfing the doorway.

“Sorry, I’m dressing up, I’ll be ready in a minute,” you quickly shuffle back to the bag and crouch down, rummaging through it in search of your underwear. Benny offered weeks, no, months ago, to clear a drawer for you. And a shelf in his wardrobe. You’ve really mastered the art of deflecting, if anything else.

“That’s not what I meant,” he croons, joining you in two long strides, tugging at your arm until you stand up and face him.

“Stop it, we’re bringing the drinks, we can’t be late,” you tilt your head up with a raised eyebrow, your frustration visible.

“I do not care… Come on, I’ll be quick,” he promises with a cocky smile, wrapping both arms around your waist and pulling you flush against him.

“Oh, you’ll be quick? What about me?” you exclaim in mock offence.

It systematically takes you by surprise, every single time, the ease with which this man manages to lift up your mood. No matter how reluctant you are, he just drags the joy out of you.

“I can get you off fast. Three minutes—”

“Three minutes?!” you cry indignantly.

“I like a challenge, come on,” he chuckles, splaying his large hands across your cheeks, drifting toward the cleft of your ass as you try to wiggle out of his embrace.

“Benjamin, it’s late, stop it,” you giggle, but the drag of his lips along the line of your neck is making you weak in the knees already, a small heat flaring up in your belly.

His voice drops another octave and your entire body shudders against his rumbling chest, “Three minutes. Bend over the bed, baby.”

—

Three minutes turned out to be twenty, after what you had to take another shower, and now you’re definitely running late. You’re not cross, however, if anything you feel more relaxed than you have since the beginning of the week. More than quick, he’s been rough, pounding you ruthlessly into the mattress from behind while you frantically rubbed your clit, and perhaps it was just what you needed to straighten your head. To remind yourself that you’re precisely where -and with whom- you’re supposed to be. Because you are. Right?

As you apply mascara in the bathroom, Benny calls in from the living-room, announcing he’s going to start the car. You acknowledge the information for what it means: that gives you five extra minutes, it being the amount of time he likes to run the engine for, before pulling the Mustang out of the garage.

You briskly walk into the bedroom and slip into your sensible underwear and your jeans. The t-shirt you pulled out of your bag earlier slipped on the floor while Benny was fucking you, and you pick it up without looking at it, shoving it back unceremoniously inside the bag. You make a face at the rumpled cotton as you pull out your blouse and lay it on the mattress. As you vainly repeat your earlier motion, trying to smooth the shirt under your palm, you decide that you’re going to ask Benny again about the shelf and drawer, after all, nodding to yourself.

You put on the blouse and start buttoning it up, circling the bed to retrieve your phone from the corner of the room where it fell earlier, and as you pick up the device, the screen unlocks and lights up.

Catfish [‘kætfiʃ] (pl catfish or catfishes), noun : poisson-chat.

You pause for the briefest moment, clenching your jaw and about to rub your eyelids before remembering you’ve got makeup on. Sliding the phone in the back pocket of your jeans, you hurry back to your bag and choose the yellow t-shirt for the second time today.

—

Will is getting a grill for his birthday. An insanely expensive beast of a machine with more knobs than a sci-fi villain’s aircraft. Something he has no use for, since he’s had the same simple, basic charcoal grill since he moved in alone after splitting from Jean. Something Frankie’s dead sure he won’t even like. Pope and Redfly’s idea.

He tried objecting, but he’s no match for the two of them together, and Benny, typically, sided with the two men. So everyone chipped in, Yovanna and you included, he was informed, and Frankie was handed the money in cash and asked to take care of everything, from buying the damn thing, to storing it in his garage and bringing it over to Will’s house on Sunday morning. Everyone else too busy with their respective jobs, kids, girlfriends. He’s the one with the suspension and the big truck parked outside all year round. He’s the one with the empty garage and the empty bed.

When Will opens his front door, bare-chest and his hair still wet, Frankie gives him an eloquent glance from under the brim of his cap, as he moves to the side of the doorway to let his friend see what is hauled up at the back of the red truck.

“Fuck, man, you kidding me?” Will exclaims in his slow drawl. “Why did you let them do that?”

“I tried, brother, I tried. Happy birthday, anyway,” Frankie pats him on the shoulder before walking back to his truck to unload the monster with the help of a trolley.

It takes the two of them to carry it across the soft soil of the backyard, on which the trolley refuses to budge, and position it against the fence at the rear of the garden.

Yovanna and Pope come in soon after with the meats and side dishes, Pope’s winning argument to convince Will to throw a party being that he wouldn’t have to do a thing. While they help set everything on the large picnic table, Frankie starts the grill.

He had flipped through the thick manual the night before, shaking his head and occasionally chuckling at the convoluted instructions. He’d be damned if Will was going to use this thing once, and when he asked his friend whether he wanted him to take away the old grill, Will shot him a “don’t you dare” glance that got him wheezing.

Redfly arrives next with his two daughters, Tess, the eldest, looking like she’d rather stick a fork in her leg than be here with a bunch of old men, her headphones riveted to her head. Frankie notices for the first time, with a pang of sadness, how much she resembles her father, her defeated look reflected on his friend’s face.

The doorbell keeps ringing for a while, more guests pouring into the small backyard, arms full of drinks and food, and gathering around the table. First, the couple from across the street and their two toddlers, and Frankie inquires if they want the kids to eat first, the exhausted father gratefully agreeing to the suggestion. Then the next door neighbour, a cute redhead of indiscernible age named Clare who, Frankie observes, melts on her chair every time Will addresses her, and finally two of Will’s coworkers from the VA.

The table is quickly buried under heaps of food, egg salad, bowls of chips, biscuits and corn on the cob, three different salads, bags of buns and a large plate of homemade arepas brought by Yovanna… So Will neighbour’s suggests to lend him two plastic folding tables to accommodate everyone, that they install after retrieving them from his garage.

Pope plays some music through his Bluetooth speaker and everyone starts loosening up, happily chatting against the sizzling noises of grilling meat.

At which point, Frankie gets fidgety, his carefully crafted composure eroding slowly.

It’s not out of character for Benny to be late, quite the contrary. Even though he’s been tasked with providing the refreshments.

Only, he knows you too will be here. And he came prepared, deciding early on that this day would be a run test for future interactions. Specifically, is he capable of entertaining a polite and distant relationship with you, without feeling like his blood had been turned into lava. Without the need to take the anger out on himself afterward. Without wanting more than just that.

Judging from his increasingly shaky hand clasped around the fancy grill’s spatula, he might have to skip the next couple of happy family gatherings.

—

Will’s house is smaller than his brother’s, although it counts one more room. But being considerably tidier, you’ve always thought it to be much larger.

The front door opens directly into a wide but shallow room, arbitrarily divided into a living-room on the right and a dining area on the left. Beyond this first room, a corridor serves a bathroom and a kitchen to the left, and two small bedrooms to the right, and leads to the well-kept backyard, closed off by a neatly lined white fence.

You’ve been here once or twice before, but when you hang out with the Miller brothers, it’s usually at Ben’s place, or in a downtown bar. It’s not that Will’s house is uncomfortable, the couch is brand new, the fridge well stocked, the TV set modern. But everything about it is spartan, bordering impersonal.

Today, as Will greets you with one of his heartfelt, marked embrace, you can’t help but ponder one more time the contrast between the austere interior and what you know to be the man’s rich, limitless inner world.

“You’re late,” he shoots gruffly at his baby brother.

Ben shrugs carelessly and retorts, “It’s her fault,” tilting his head toward you, before making a beeline to the backyard, carrying a giant beer keg and a cooler filled with beverages with the same ease as if they were fluffy pillows.

Will throws you a skeptical glance and you answer silently with a shake of your head.

“Happy birthday, Will,” you say with a soft smile, and as he moves to follow Ben into the garden, you hold him back, tugging at his plaid shirt. “I’ve got something for you.”

“You mean you weren’t in on the present?” he asks as if it makes more sense, returning your smile.

“Oh no, I am, I wasn’t given a choice, but I got you something else.”

For some reason, you don’t feel comfortable handing him the rectangular, carefully wrapped package you extract from your tote bag in front of everyone, and he senses your hesitancy. He gives you a short nod and you follow him in silence towards the corridor. Somehow, his massive frame looks even more impressive as you walk sheepishly behind him, tall figure, wide shoulders, strong arms. You know him to be slightly smaller in height than his younger brother, but he’s all quiet strength and raw power. You wonder for a brief moment what it must feel like to be facing a man like him in battle, to find yourself on the wrong side of William Ironhead Miller.

He opens the door to the spare bedroom, where you’ve never been before, and before you have the time to withhold it, a faint gasp escapes you.

It’s an office, of sorts, and a cluttered one, with a desk positioned under the single window, covered in notebooks and scattered notes written on loose sheets, an old sofa bed, foam coming out of the thread-bare armrests, and so many bookshelves it looks as though they’re holding the ceilings, the walls barely visible. Rows of non-fiction, philosophical essays, geography textbooks and some exhibition catalogs, several framed military decorations, and framed photos. Dozens of photos.

You’re standing inside William’s brain.

You gape at him in bewilderment, your eyes asking a silent question, to which he replies, “It’s ok, you can take a look,” a knowing smile on his face, and you dart toward the nearest shelf without hesitation.

The picture of the two of them next to the golden retriever is the first one that holds your attention, but there are many more family portraits, some of them with a couple you easily identify as their parents, the boys bearing a striking resemblance to them, and one with a toddler, a girl, holding a very young William’s hand. Everything’s there, a colourful and assorted retrospective of their entire childhood: picnics, mountain hikes, birthdays, first bikes, fishing trips to the lake, graduations… Ben and Will at a variety of stages of their military carriers, lined up in chronological order, as far as you can tell, and because your mind so often works in the same ways as your friend’s.

A growing lump invades your throat, and you begin to blink wildly. You stand here, motionless, numb, unable to pull away from the images, fully aware of the privilege he’s granting you, admitting you into this sanctuary, tucked away from everyone else’s prying gaze.

And then you see it. A group picture of the five of them, siting around a camp fire in front of a large camouflage tent, in what looks like a Middle Eastern scenery. Pope, Redfly, Ironhead, Benny, and Catfish. All of them looking considerably younger. All of them grinning widely. Your heart sinks at the sight of his dimple. How old can he be? Thirty, thirty-five, you assume, his hair short, a soft caramel brown, his face clean-shaven, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes shallow, still, but the crease between his brows deep, already.

You missed out on so much of him. You missed everything.

It takes all of your willpower to turn away and hand Will the package, without a word, not trusting your voice to be steady enough to speak.

He doesn’t tear the wrapping, instead tugging the adhesive open, until the busy book cover is revealed. It’s an exhibition catalog, Bauhaus 1919-1933: Workshops in Modernity, held at the MoMa in 2010, long before you met each other. The first time the two of you visited the museum together, you swung by the bookstore, and you observed him discreetly as he flipped through the catalog’s pages with covetous eyes, eventually replacing it on its pile, with evident regret. It took you a while, several weeks of getting to know him better, before you could understand why. Priced at $75, the book was an unaffordable luxury to him.

You see the surprise play across his handsome features, and you can tell the exact moment when he registers, the memory resurfacing, that milestone in your friendship, the fact that you remembered. You see this solid, pragmatic man, rarely surprised, always prepared, clearly shaken; and as you finally stir to leave the room, wanting to allow him the space you know he needs, he pulls you into his arms, hugging you so tightly it hurts, and he whispers, “Thanks, sister.”

—

“Alright, who wants some alcohol?” Ben shouts into the backyard, his question greeted by a collective and cheerful holler.

Frankie’s knuckles crack in his grip of the cooking utensil, and he has to make a conscious effort to stop gritting his teeth. Ok, he got this, he reminds himself. If he made it through Monday night, he can make it through Sunday afternoon. He turns around to face the house, and his front collides with Ben’s chest, who pats his back with a resounding grunt. You’re nowhere in sight.

“Hey man, wanna beer?” Ben asks brightly.

One of them had a good morning, at least.

“Yea, is it fresh?” Frankie’s voice comes out a bit tense, but he can work on it, he knows he can.

“It sure is,” Ben answers, cracking a can open and handing it to his friend.

Frankie takes a swig of the cool beverage and feels it flowing down his burning throat, scanning the door to the house. You’re still nowhere to be seen.

“You’re alone?” he asks, and immediately winces.

Off to a great start.

“Nah, she’s in there with Will, scheming.”

Ben tries to pick up a wiener from the grill and burns his fingers, swearing under his breath and mumbling something about the size of the machine. Something that Frankie doesn’t hear. His ears are filled with the frenetic thumping of his blood, even though his heart has stopped beating.

Will’s bulky silhouette appeared in the doorway, and as he stepped into the garden, you materialised behind him, pausing there for a moment to let your eyes adjust to the midday light. You’re wearing these jeans again, the ones that are way too tight on your hips, they’re Benny’s favourite, but Frankie doesn’t know that, and it’s not what he sees. What he sees is your t-shirt. A pale shade of yellow, and the print of a book cover. A black cat in a white bow tie, holding a gun in its clawed paw, winking straight at him, and the title in red, bold letters, etched over your breasts, that spell:

The Master and Margarita.

—

You find yourself behind Will again, walking down the narrow hallway to the backyard, but you have to stop on the threshold, blinded by the sudden daylight. It’s early in April, and you recall a Gainsbourg song about April inspiring love. There’s a stereo playing Jefferson Airplane and the smell of grilled meat fills the air. When your eyes adjust to the luminosity, you’re slightly taken aback. You didn’t expect that big of a crowd, and anxiety immediately kicks in at the thought of having to meet new people and make small talk. Something catches your eyes on your right, Yovanna is waving at you, standing next to Pope.

You smile back, relieved, about to step in and join her, when you see him.

A blue and brown plaid shirt pulled taut over his broad frame, the top two, no, three buttons undone, the dip of his collarbones exposed, rolled up sleeves revealing his forearms, locks of hair curling around his ears and on his nape.

When your eyes lock, a faint, wistful smile tugs at the corner of his lips and oh god, you want to crawl under his skin and forever live there.

—

The guests are all seated, now, divided into groups around the three tables in the cramped backyard, except for the neighbours’ kids, who are running around under the playful supervision of Tom’s youngest, Sue.

You’re sitting between Will and Benny, across from Yovanna and Pope, but more often than not, Will’s up and around, refilling people’s glasses, making sure everyone has everything they need. You know him to be more comfortable in quiet settings, but he makes for a very charming host, nonetheless.

Grilling food and preparing the burgers take up most of Frankie’s time, who has yet to sit down and enjoy his own plate. You’ve never seen so much meat, and you don’t think you’ll be able to swallow any for the next two weeks at least.

When Frankie comes over to your table to ask what your party would like to eat, you notice for the first time that he addresses Yovanna almost exclusively in Spanish, whereas Pope and him mostly use English. He’d told you he was born in Argentina, but you’d never heard him use his mother tongue, and it’s invading all your senses. His voice sounds different, softer, rounder, less gruff around the edges.

You won’t let it carry you back to the orange bedroom, not here, not like that, not with your boyfriend’s hand resting on your lap, his thumb rubbing your inner thigh. If you could just effectively control your goddamn breathing every time he lifts that cap and combs through his hair…

“What about you?” his husky voice jolts you out of your reverie. He’s looking straight at you, hands propped on his hips, “What do you want?”

You stare at him blankly, dumbstruck, an instantaneous acceleration in the rhythm of your heartbeat as you feel crimson creeping up your neck and cheeks. Will’s steely gaze is on you as you shift nervously on your hard plastic seat.

Meat. He’s asking about the meat.

“Burger. Rare. Please,” you answer without thinking, before adding hastily, “Wait! Can I have some extra cheese? Please?”

Pope bursts out laughing and Yovanna shoves her elbow in his ribs. A slow, devastating smile appears on Frankie’s face, so broad, so spontaneous, so sincere, all dimple and teeth, and for the first time in this life you’re facing your Frankie, despite the deep creases at the corner of his eyes, despite the cap hiding away his curls, despite the whiskered cheeks stranded with grey, and it’s more, much more than you can stand, you have to lower your eyes onto your egg salad.

The rest of the meal is a game of avoidance, played knowingly and with unexpected skill by the two of you. Every once in a while, you throw each other sideways glances, facing away mere milliseconds before your eyes can actually meet, holding your stare until the last possible moment. But for the most part, you concentrate on Yovanna, exchanging ideas on topics as diverse as politics or cinema, making plans for a girl’s night out with Rosie and some of her friends.

Frankie cooked the food you’re eating right now. You try not to linger on the thought. And he gave you extra cheese, alright, your burger disintegrating in your hands, nearly impossible to handle with the amount he managed to melt on top of the patty.

He loves the way you eat, grabbing the burger with both hands and unceremoniously pushing it into your mouth until you realise there are people around who might be watching.

Memories are resurfacing now, flowing into the gaping abyss vacated by his receding anger, flooding his brain, and his senses.

And if he can’t recall what the two of you ate during the single meal you shared over the course of the weekend, he remembers your voracity. To this day, you remain his best kiss. Like that first one on the balcony, no, not a balcony, a fire escape, when he hung on for dear life to your hips with a bruising grip as you pulled him in, a minute ago shy and self-conscious, all he had to do was show you the attraction was reciprocal.

And that other kiss you gave him after that meal, only it hadn’t been on his lips.

It was already Sunday, in the early afternoon, when you too had first thought of eating. You were together on that bed where you spent most of the weekend. Lying on his back, eyes closed and a smile dancing on his lips, he was focused on the sensation of the tip of your fingers tracing patterns along his torso.

Your stomach let out a very loud, very angry growl. Your eyebrows shot up and you rolled onto your side to cover your face in embarrassment, both of you bursting into a laughing fit. He wrestled you for a bit, trying to pull your arms away from your face, and he finally carried you out of bed. He couldn’t understand why he found the idea of feeding you so satisfactory, even then, as he still does today.

You slipped on his plaid shirt, the act so natural and familiar, you looked so fucking lovely. He felt a pang of possessiveness, a foreign feeling to him, one he’d never experienced until then. You followed him into the kitchen where you ate together in content silence, exchanging cheerful looks, like two happy puppies.

After eating, however, the atmosphere shifted. He felt your gaze on his bare skin and when he looked up, your hooded eyes told him everything he needed to know. You got up slowly, purposefully, and slowly, purposefully took off his shirt, draping it neatly over the back of the Formica chair. Fuck, he loved your tits, so damn much.

He found himself unable to move, mesmerised by your demeanour, confident and full of intent. It was new, and it was something else. You were not quite the same girl anymore, and he wasn’t sure if “girl” was still the fitting term.

Closing the distance between you in one stride, you kneeled in front of him, gently parting his legs with your hands, and you moved closer, holding his gaze. He felt dumbstruck, at your mercy, like he had when you first backed him against that same kitchen chair two nights ago, and he licked his bottom lips in a futile attempt to snap out of it.

You lowered your eyes to the growing bulge in his black briefs and his cock twitched. With parted lips, you leaned in to kiss him through the warm fabric, eyes closed in rapture under your raised brow. Softly, you nuzzled your cheek against the cottony material, and inhaled. He froze, eyes locked on you, his chest heaving, his mouth gone slack. You rested your cheek on the inside of his thigh for a short while.

Then, flicking your eyes open, you started quietly, “I really want to–” and paused, and it occurred to him you might not even know how to say it in English.

“You don’t have to, if you’re–”, he trailed off, hardly recognising his own breathy, shaky voice. What the fuck was he talking about? He might die if you stopped now.

“Please? Please let me. It’s just that… I know I’m not too good at it.”

He was already fully erect when you took him out of his briefs, hard and heavy, and when you hesitantly bit your bottom lip, his eyes squeezed shut. He felt the curled up tip of your tongue collecting the bead of precome from the head of his cock, heard your satisfied exhale, felt your cold mouth enveloping him -cereal, he remembers it now, you had cold milk with cereal-, felt the contrast of your warm hand wrapping around his base.

If you were fairly inexperienced, your eagerness more than made up for it, and he let out a muffled curse when you began licking up broad stripes, before dipping as far down on him as you could.

He wanted to bury his hands in your hair and thrust deeply into your mouth, fill you entirely, the thought of fucking your throat threatening to tip him over too soon, but a part of his brain somehow still functioning remained in control; instead he gripped the sides of his seat until his knuckles turned white.

Your mouth closed around him, you settled in a steady rhythm, tongue swirling around his fat tip, hand stroking up and down with a maddening twist of your wrist, but you were far too gentle. With his cock still in your mouth, your eyes flicked up to his with a question, to which he gave a short, rapid nod, yes, yes, do whatever the fuck you want with me and you withdrew your lips with a popping sound, your timid smile in complete contradiction with the filth of your actions, before spitting tenderly on the head of his cock.

You were going to be the death of him.

Spreading your spit down his length, you stroked harder, wrapping your lips around him again, this time sucking firmly up and down with hollowed cheeks. He saw you squirming, pressing your thighs together, he heard your moans, you were enjoying this. That realisation, combined with your ministrations, was overwhelming.

His hips locked into place, the muscles in his belly strained, his balls drew tighter, he was too fucking close; he reached for the soft hair on your nape and tried pulling you back before it was too late, but you resisted, sucking harder, looking at him from under your eyelashes with an expression that mirrored his when you had straddled him on that same chair. “Do it, use me.”

He came at once. His head rolled back, an obscene grunt echoing in the room, heavy ropes of spend hitting the back of your throat that you bravely tried to swallow, flooding past your closed lips and dribbling down your chin. You kept suckling him delicately through it and when he came around after a minute, or five, or ten, he noticed he was still holding your hair.

You looked dazed, dazed and pleased with yourself, holding him in your right hand, sitting back on your heels like a proud student waiting to be graded, and he laughed breathlessly.

He’s hoping now, looking at you as you wipe your chin clean of the dripping sauce from the burger he cooked especially for you, that he told you then how well you did for him. More women than he’d care to count have sucked his dick ever since, some of them professionals, none made him feel the way you did. All he can remember is that he had been eager to get you cleaned up.

And what happened then in the bathroom had been the beginning of the end for him.

—

When the neighbours bring their kids back home for nap time, the place becomes considerably quieter. Tom takes his leave shortly after, having to drive his daughters back to his ex-wife, and you’re slightly alarmed that his friends are letting him take the wheel, considering how much alcohol he’s had. Then it’s Will’s colleagues’ turn to go. There’s a pleasant, sated lull in the conversations, as the remaining guests stretch their limbs in the afternoon sun.

When Frankie joins your table, Benny sits up as if remembering something.

“Hey baby, I’ve been thinking,’ he starts, looking at you both, “Fish could help you with the car. He used to be a mechanic, right Fish?”

All the food you’ve ingested makes your body slow and heavy, but you think you could start shaking with the way Frankie’s eyes flick up to you, alight with an alarming gleam.

The car. Benny’s big project, getting you out of public transportation. You didn’t need one in Paris and you haven’t bought one here yet, you like the bus rides, you can read and listen to music and daydream. A real luxury. And you’re more than fine with Benny driving you around in the Mustang.

“We’ve talked about this, Ben, I’m not comfortable driving, here,” you remind him tentatively.

Frankie leans back in his chair, arms crossed on his broad chest, and you avoid the sight of his lean muscles rippling underneath the tanned skin of his forearms.

“Look, I don’t like you riding them buses alone at night. She won’t even take a cab,” he adds for his friend’s benefit. “Fish knows a lot about cars and engines and shit, he could help you choose a good one. I think that’s a good idea, that’s all I’m saying.”

Nothing about this is a good idea.

“Cheers, but I’m a big girl from a big city,” you answer with a hint of aggressiveness. “I mean I’m fine,” you try again, softer, “and I’m used to driving a stick, I would want a manual gear, anyway.”

A manual gear. Nice touch, very European, that was convincing.

“Yea I can help you with that, too,” Frankie lifts his head and you get a better view of his face under the brim of the cap, but you’ll be damned if you can decipher his expression.

This whole situation is throwing you off-balance, you can’t process what’s happening, but you know that you don’t like it, not in the least, what do you want, what does he want, what is he playing at?

He wants you safe. He wants you off the buses at night, is what he wants. Nothing else. Nothing more. Aside perhaps from the opportunity to ask you one question.

Clare provides you with a much welcome way out when she joins the discussion.

“I’ve been to Paris, like fifteen years ago? I loved it! What neighbourhood are you from, exactly?”

The topic seems forgotten and you carry out the conversation for as long as you can before excusing yourself and stepping inside for a glass of water. Talking about your hometown has cooled down your nerves, but you still need a moment to yourself.

Will’s kitchen is cleaner than an operating room. It’s disconcerting, and you wonder if he ever eats in. The hob is pristine, so is the oven, and you hardly resist the urge to open the fridge just to have a peek, refraining out of respect for your friend.

The first cabinet you open contains different sorts of coffee, teas and herbal infusions, canned soups and chocolate, something you didn’t expect. You find the glasses behind the second door you open, but your hand freezes on the handle as you hear someone coming into the kitchen behind you.

It’s him. The understanding instinctual. You recognize his gait, measured, calm, assertive, and before you can decide how to react, you’re surrounded by the scent of him. You were right, of course you were right, you do remember it vividly, only now it’s more potent, and it’s so close, too close, it’s there, you feel dizzy, he’s drawing nearer and you brace yourself for an impact that doesn’t come.

He stops half an inch short of your back, and it’s as if your very skin is reaching out for him.

He leans over you, his mouth to your ear, the thin hair on your nape standing, and his breath fans over your throat when he whispers, “Let me get that car with you.” It’s not a request. It’s not a question.

You feel the heat rolling off of him once it’s no longer there. You stand alone in the empty kitchen, eyes clenched, cold and perfectly still, your hand gripped onto the cabinet handle.

It’s a moment before you can walk out of the kitchen on shaky legs. You’re going to do this. You are really going to do this. You can’t pause to think.

You get to the garden and the sun blinds you, they’re all staring in your direction, if only in your head. You go back to your seat next to Benny and you put on a broad smile, willing your voice to sound perfectly casual.

“Ok you win. I’ll get that car. But a small one.”

Oh god he looks so fucking happy, like a child, and he kisses you deep, you hate yourself already when you notice Frankie’s watching, he hasn’t missed a thing. You recognise the sadness in his eyes, it’s the same that’s pinching your heart.

Everything happens too fast afterwards. Benny signals him to come over, and you exchange phone numbers, an ordinary social interaction that is anything but. The irony of the situation drops like an anvil in your stomach and you fear for a moment that you’re going to be sick. Neither Frankie nor you can look at each other as you tap the digits on the screens.

Your entire body shudders at the sound of Benny’s voice.

“Alright, then, Fish, I guess she’ll give you a call!”

—

Why you didn’t call is all he needs to know. He’ll back off once he knows. And he can’t stand the thought of you travelling by bus, alone at night. Two birds, one stone.

He didn’t recognise your scent. Standing so close to you in that clinically clean kitchen, he breathed in your hair, your neck, and it was intoxicating, but it wasn’t like it used to be. Not that he can remember your old scent. He’s forgotten about that, along with your taste, a long time ago, he just knows it’s not it. New shampoo, new perfume, maybe. New boyfriend.

The only thing he remembers after all these years, apart from your eyes and your face, is your skin. The feel of it under the pads of his fingers, under the palm of his hand, under his tongue, between his lips. How it shivered under his touch. The way it caught at his calloused digits. And your cool back against his burning chest. And your breasts, and your own hands as you ceaselessly caressed him.

Is it better to remember?

Around three years ago, he met a girl from Mexico, much younger than him, dark and beautiful, and she made him feel good for a while, he liked the sensation of her soft body underneath his, and he thought he might be in love until he realised it was nothing but a reminiscence of you. Of your skin. Over and over and over again. Always you. Only you. A life spent seeking you through all these stranger, distant bodies.

He got so close to your skin, earlier. He knows that’s how close he’s ever going to get, now. Benny’s never been this happy. Benny’s in love, it’s all over his face, on display for everyone else to see.

But it’s real. He’s got that. Everything that happened between you and him, has been real. That’s what you gave him, today, you clever, clever girl. He can be content with that, he thinks. If only…

If only he didn’t feel your skin reaching out for him.

—

In the orange bedroom, he’d fallen asleep first and you had fought through your own tiredness to stay awake just a little while longer. Looking at him, committing to memory all his singular details. The size of his hands, the shape of his nails, the colour of his eyelashes, the tattoo behind his ear and the one on his thumb, the curve of his nose, the line of his neck, the pattern of his freckles, the dip between his collarbones, the ones over his hips, the flawless shape of his length, the build of his thighs, the sharpness of his jawline, the breadth of his shoulders, the curls of his hair…

You couldn’t ever be satisfied but you didn’t want to disturb his slumber, so you got up for a glass of water and got reminded of the books piled up by the chair.

Kneeling down on the floor, you looked through a first column of physics and algebra textbooks. A few others, smaller, with eye-catching covers, were fiction. Mostly second-hand, judging by the yellowed paper. Some were in Spanish, from authors unknown to you yet, but some you knew and loved, Hemingway, O'Connor, Remarque, Capote… You picked up a beaten copy of Franny and Zooey, inhaling the old paper scent, and flipped through the pages. Here, some sentences were underlined, there, entire paragraphs. His bold handwriting sprawled in all caps in the margin, his thoughts laid down in ink, something you would never dare do.

You put down the book, resuming your browsing, you couldn’t figure out what you were looking for, only that you would know when you’d find it, and oh! there.

You held the book with both hands and murmured the title like one does a binding spell.

“Le Maître et Marguerite”

****

Taglist (Thank you 💕): @nicolethered @elegantduckturtle @mashomasho @lola766 @flowersandpotplantsandsunshine @littleone65 @bands-tv-movies-is-me @the-rambling-nerd @saintbedelia @pedrostories @trickstersp8

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Author/Writer!Phil Masterlist

7 Years - neutralhowell

Summary: Loosely based on the song ‘7 years’ so I’d recommend listening to that when reading this. Phil is a writer and Dan is a singer, they grew up together and both made it big, usually, time tears childhood people apart however for Dan and Phil, this wasn’t the case.

A Comma After Dearest (ao3) - niennaerso

Summary: Phil writes as a hobby. Dan has a favorite writer, and it happens to be Phil, but he doesn't know, yet.

and we're out here in plain sight (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Phil's an optimistic author whose science fiction novel is well on its way to becoming a film. Dan's an actor whose cynism toward love is nothing short of infuriating. It takes a while, but they find something to agree on.

Broken Like You (ao3) - TearDrop1234

Summary: Dan and Phil meet at a theater in a nowhere town. Their friendship is instant, but the rest not so much.

Cerebrate - dantiloquent

Summary: An ace and aroflux!phan fic in which they are both writers and the lines of their relationship blur but they’re always happy with how they are.

Coffee and Calligraphy (ao3) - brookwrites

Summary: (TW) Dan’s a barista at the local cafe where writer!Phil decides to sit with his journal. Dan likes Phil. A lot. But things change when Dan finds something out about Phil that breaks his heart.

Dear Dan, (ao3) - archangelgaybriel, kazimpala

Summary: Phil Lester is a writer-slash-barista who works ridiculous hours in a small coffee shop just around the corner. Dan Howell is an aspiring pianist with a keen interest - it’s not a crush - on a certain cute barista working at a coffee shop just around the corner, who also turns out to be the hottest one-night stand that he never intends to see again except in his fantasies. But then again Fate is cruel and the million dollar question is whether love can transcend Dan’s past into something much bigger.

Essential Meet-Cute (ao3) - husbants

Summary: Audiobook narrator Dan Howell finds himself embarrassed when he encounters a handsome man named Phil in the romance aisle of his local bookstore. Luckily, he and Phil get along quickly and both enjoy a certain queer romance author named Zack Striker. Still, Dan can’t help but think that Phil might be hiding something…

Every Saturday Morning (ao3) - croissantbleu (orphan_account)

Summary: Dan's life was uneventful, working at a law firm, trying (and failing) to stay on top of his work despite his ADHD getting in the way, and playing the piano on Saturdays. But things changed when he found a phone number in a book, and finds someone who makes him want to follow his dreams.

friday night placebo (ao3) - kishere

Summary: Phil Lester never thought that he was going to be here in his life: successful, healthy, a little lonely, and helping produce his own Netflix show. Dan Howell, YouTube fanboy and food aficionado, just wants to get a job in television acting. One audition could help both of their problems.

I Can Feel Your Pulse in the Pages (ao3) - coldtea (orphan_account)

Summary: Phil is a writer who can’t seem to stop including Dan in everything he writes.

Of Written Feelings and Words With Meaning - likhaless

Summary: Recently, Dan’s become addicted to this writing blog. He’s so addicted to it in fact, that he might as well be in love with it. The writer seems to say exactly how it feels and he finds himself wishing he had someone who was so deeply in love with him to write for him like that. Little does he know that there is already someone doing that and he’s closer than he thought.Phil, on the other hand, has his own feelings and secrets to keep.

On Skin - grooveyle

Summary: Phil is a writer. Dan, his muse. 

Out of this skin (ao3)- serconstance

Summary: Phil Lester breaks up with his boyfriend Charlie and moves to London to start a new life, hoping that this change will allow him to finally get rid of the ghosts he carries on his shoulder. What he didn't expect was for the boy he sat next to on the train to keep popping up into his life – at Starbucks, on the bus, at the movie theatre and, mostly, in his thoughts.

Paperback Writer - auroraphilealis

Summary: Phil Lester’s novel is still riddled with errors and mistakes, but he hates the whole editing process because it results in nothing more than re-written scenes and a bad taste in his mouth, because he’s never quite satisfied with what he’s written. And then he meets Dan, the cute guy at the coffee shop who makes sure Phil knows he could help him edit his novel.

Pretty Guy (ao3) - Archive (Curlylinguist)

Summary: Phil stumbles across a Pride rally and a certain curly-haired queer activist catches his eye.

Scripts And Stars - lovebuglester

Summary: Dan is an actor, auditioning for a new role in a film written by a revolutionary young writer by the name of Phil Lester.

Seven days of sushi (ao3) - Portia331

Summary: Phil Lester is a well-regarded sci-fi author. Well, post-apocalyptic sci-fi zombie survival horror, if you're being technical about it. After an epiphany-inducing series of life events, he decides he wants a break from robots and gore and to step into the non-fiction world. His agent and publisher are on board, but there's a catch - he has to give up his artistic integrity and make his work * scholarly * ... within the next week. Is Phil up for the challenge?

song and story (ao3) - kay_okay 

Summary: In this universe, Dan, a music composition grad student working on his thesis, and Phil, a novelist trying his best to get over his sophomore slump, book the week before Christmas in a bed and breakfast nestled against snow-covered mountains in France. They're tapped out creatively and need the week to work on their projects.

In this universe, Dan and Phil don't know each other. At least, that's how it starts.

The Brown-Eyed Barista (ao3) - tahliaisnotonfire

Summary: Dan Howell worked as a barista at a small corner coffee shop where he meets an author called Phil Lester; and he’s begun working on a new book.

What I Wouldn't Do (ao3) - wordsofphandom (KathleenCaitlyn)

Summary: At a book signing, Phil, a succesful author of children’s books, meets the five-year-old Dylan and his gorgeous single father Dan. Though they are instantly drawn to each other, certain issues, let alone a lively five-year-old complicate things for Dan and Phil, and they have to find out just what they would - or wouldn’t do, to be together.

[joonkorre]

(love) is a heartache

@drarrymicrofic prompt: hope is a heartache - léon

let it be known that harry goes through life purely on vibes. half of his reasons why for every decision at his big age are “idk imma just hope for the best”

ao3

People’s hearts twinge sometimes. For Draco, he can barely remember the last time he doesn’t have these twinges. It’s pretty normal at this point.

“No, it’s not,” Pansy says. She’s a Healer, so she’s probably right. But Draco prefers to ignore that.

“Leave it be,” Draco murmurs, lips against her scalp, “I’m fine. Say, are you free tomorrow?”

“Yeah. You want to go somewhere?”

“Mm. Sleep.”

They go out the next morning, Pansy in thick makeup and Draco practically drunk under nine layers of Charms. The air is a bit humid, which seems to get worse when the bustling street intensifies in volume into a roaring din. Pansy pulls him under an awning, yanking at his sleeve a bit to try out her disgusting sugary coffee. She always does this whenever she wants to take his attention away from something, which means he just has to look at exactly where she’s doesn’t want him to. As his lips wrap around her lipstick-stained straw, he glances up.

Across the street, a couple strolls through a gushing crowd. Fiery red hair, airy laughter, a pale arm wrapped around her fiancé’s waist. Curls of black, sleek spectacles, a protective palm on his fiancee’s shoulder. They make the perfect picture, a vibrant oil painting. Their existence is formed from bold strokes of sunlight and starburst kisses, with the focal point being a shock of phthalo green and cadmium lemon, two minute specks that make all the difference. As all good paintings do, they pin the viewer on the spot, as if the viewer himself is a thing to behold. Then they shift away.

The exhibit moves forward and out of sight. It’s closing time, the viewer has overstayed his welcome.

Something leaps in Draco’s chest and splatters on the floor of his stomach. Placing her hand over his heart, Pansy frowns at him. She doesn’t ask why Potter stared at someone who looked like a stranger to him. Only tells him to start finding answers.

Months later, on the most awaited day in recent Wizarding history, there’s a knock on Draco’s door.

He throws on a sweater, and a throw, too, for good measure. Ambling to the door, he checks the mail slot before peeking through the peephole. Nobody but a package is outside. Draco hums and unlocks his door, crouching down the moment it opens. What feels like soft satin brushes against his cheek, cool and smooth. With a flash, a pair of shiny dress shoes appear before him.

“Draco.”

Draco peers up as he rises, hands around the package. Potter has his maddening Invisibility Cloak slung over his arm, his roguish charm heightened by a perfectly fitted three-piece suit. A tiny posy is pinned on his left lapel, muted green hellebores with a few sprigs of privet berries. He’s dressed like a man in love.

Draco feels something he hasn’t felt in months at the sight. He’s trained himself to suppress it the moment it showed itself and has been relatively successful until now. The sting, without warning, bursts from within his chest, calling forth a slight wince. Potter’s brows furrow.

"How do you know where I live?"

“How long has this been going on?”

Draco frowns. “Pardon?”

“That,” Potter gestures at Draco’s chest. “The heartache.”

He rears back. What the hell is he supposed to say to that? At Potter’s unchanging expression, Draco shoves his hair out of his face with a quiet huff and puts a hand on the doorknob.

“It’s none of your business. Please leave.”

“It is, actually,” Potter stops the closing door with one arm.

“Excuse me? We haven't had a proper conversation in more than a decade and suddenly you want to act like we're friends? Leave, now.”

“Listen to me. How can it not be my business when I feel it, too?”

“Check with a Healer, then. If you can put past grudges aside, I can hand you Pansy Parkinson’s business card,” Draco grits through his teeth, pushing against the door with his entire body, his throw slipping to the ground.

“Draco, stop, I already know, stop.”

“Know what? No, I don't care. Leave at once, else I’d alert the Aurors.”

A rough slam sends Draco staggering back. Potter pants, hard lines on his face. His chest heaves under his crisp white shirt, its top two buttons unclasped, and he steps over the threshold, closing the door.

“You think they’d believe you?”

The pain shoots from his chest to the rest of his body, and for several seconds, his lungs wouldn’t work. He whips his head away from Potter, who groans and sags against the wall.

“I told you to leave.”

“I’m sorry, that was a shitty thing to say,” Potter says immediately, sweat dotting his temples.

After an uncomfortable pause, clearing his throat, he picks up the near-forgotten package from the carpet. His hand feels around the outline of the object within, rectangular and heavy. Glancing at Draco, he says hoarsely. “I know why you bought this book.”

“Know this, know that, you know nothing,” Draco lunges forward, only for Potter to twist out of the way and raise the package out of his reach.

“The Life-long Burden of Dark Curses: A Caution by Elise Arrowlane, limited edition,” he says, unbothered by Draco’s slackened jaw. “You ordered it from the new bookstore on Diagon months ago. You were small and old and grey, but I recognized you. I always could.”

“Okay,” Draco sneers, “so you’re a stalker. Old news. Anything else?”

“There’s no need to order one. I would’ve borrowed it from Hermione if you had only asked,” Potter says. “Instead, I got curious and read it for myself. That’s how I connected the dots about the heartache, how I realized we’ve both had it since that day years ago.”

“Oh, the day you slashed me into ribbons and almost cut through my heart?” Draco clenches his jaw.

Being able to shout this ugly kind of truth into the perpetrator’s face feels oddly liberating. That is, if liberation also comes with a specific kind of agony that makes Draco want to fall to his knees.

“Dark Magic leaves a mark on both the wizard and their victim, doesn’t it? No need for a book to tell us that,” Potter says, the harsh afternoon glow of him gentled by the soft lamplight in Draco’s hallway. “In certain cases, it even leaves a link. A connection.”

Draco bites the inside of his cheek and looks away. The only consequence from that horrid night was his fucked up heart and nothing else, nothing at all. Whatever Potter is insinuating, he hates it. He hates this. He hates him.

“How are you so sure there’s a connection.”

“I wasn’t,” Potter says. “The Healers said it’s a health thing I developed after the War and I just needed to avoid strenuous activity. I didn’t think much of it, but then I read the book and realized that it usually flared up whenever you watched me.”

Scoffing, Draco turns and stalks into the kitchen. Walking past the boiling kettle, he throws a cabinet door open and grabs a mug, his hand trembling.

“Interesting how my health suffers when I see the bastard who quite literally carved me open.”

“I was eating dinner when I thought I was going to die of a heart attack at 23,” Potter continues. Draco pulls the drawers out, unable to find a single bag of tea for several excruciating moments. “The next day, I was reading about your mother’s death on the Daily Prophet. That was the first sign.”

Grabbing a rag and wetting it, Draco wipes the countertop even as he’s just done so last night.

“When Ginny saw you on the street during our date and extended her hand toward you, you shook it. But your heart ached.

“I saw you looking at the picture of Ginny and I kissing on the front page of Witch Weekly. Your hair was brown and your back was curved, but I saw you. Your heart ached.

“When I announced my engagement to her on the Battle of Hogwarts’s 10th Anniversary, you were clapping along with everyone else. But your heart ached.”

Draco throws the rag on the counter. The kettle whistles, a piercing sound. “What’s your point? Are you here purely to flaunt your relationship and imply that I’m in love with Ginevra Weasley? If so, I got it. Thank you so very much, it’s been enlightening. Now get out.”

“The point is,” Potter says, lifting the kettle off the burner to pour it into Draco’s mug, placing his tea bag in, “unless the article about you being gay was wrong, Ginny isn’t the one you’re in love with.”

“What arti—” Draco stops. “That was years ago.”

His sexuality was leaked to some irrelevant gossip rag, not even making the front page. Nobody noticed, nothing changed, and it hasn’t entered his mind in what feels like forever until Potter reminds him.

“I remember.”

“You—” Draco frowns. His eyes strain on the cup of tea until they hurt. He squeezes them shut, sighing. “It doesn’t prove anything. Perhaps I’m jealous of my childhood nemesis having a better life than me, ever thought of that?”

“Yeah,” Potter says, “I’ve thought about this a lot. Which is why I’m here. To make sure.”

Draco takes it in, then, unable to help himself, curls his lips at Potter and his attire. At his artfully gelled hair, his hanging bow tie, the elegant boutonniere on the lapel of his dark blue suit. His empty ring finger.

“Couldn’t you have chosen a better date to make sure? Preferably before your wedding day?”

Potter steps closer. A respectable distance away, but closer.

“I could’ve, but I spent most of those days in denial. Then the dots connected and I couldn’t deny it anymore, so I decided to just go through with the wedding regardless, be with the woman I loved. Hoped that maybe the odd emotions I had would go away,” he shrugs, raising his eyes to meet Draco’s. “Saw Ginny at the end of the aisle and, well, I couldn’t stop thinking that it should’ve been someone else. All this time, I’ve thought that she didn’t feel… right in my arms, but I pushed it down. And there she was in that white dress.

“Seeing that today was the last straw. I had to leave.”

Draco’s breath catches in his throat. Swallowing it down, he grabs his mug, scooping out the tea bag just to have something to do. He takes a sip without blowing, ignoring its scalding heat.

“That was stupid.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Draco can feel a headache building. “That was a horrible decision. I never imagined you—you!—out of all people, could be this irresponsible. What the fuck.”

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am. Merlin, that poor fucking woman. If your purpose here is to make me feel bad for Ginevra and all 300 of her relatives for once in my life, you’ve succeeded, congratulations.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say that to me, say that to—oh, you’d do what you want no matter what I say, wouldn’t you?”

“Depends on the situation.”

“‘Depends on the situation,’ he says,” Draco mocks, getting a carton of milk from the fridge to save his bitter, bitter tea. Potter doesn’t reply. Stirring the milk in, Draco lets out a heavy sigh.

“What do you want me to do about this?” He says. “I didn’t make you run out of your own wedding. If you expect me to take the blame for your inane decisions, the first person I Floo wouldn’t be the Aurors, but Ginevra Weasley herself.”

A small smile graces Potter’s lips. “I don’t expect anything from you but honesty.”

Draco squints.

“And how will you know if what I say is a lie? Will you reject my genuine answer if it’s not what you want to hear?”

“That won’t be a problem,” Potter says. “I trust your heart will speak the truth for us both.”

There’s a pang in Draco’s chest, and judging from the twitch of Potter’s brow, he can feel it too. Not another word is said, the two men merely facing each other from across a tiny kitchen, considering. Draco can feel the warmth of sunlight beaming through the little window and coating his nape as he leans against the sink, earl grey on his tongue. Lovely citric notes of bergamot drift up his nose. He closes his eyes. What to do, what to do.

Weightless oxfords clack against the yellowed tiles, clear and bright in Draco’s ears. Fabric rustles as Potter slips a hand into his pocket only to retrieve it a second later. Draco lets himself be cornered, barely glancing at the wool-clad arms caging either side of his waist. A clink catches his attention, however, and he tilts his head to the left.

Millimeters beside Draco’s hand on the counter, glinting in the sun, is a wedding band. Draco knows Potter and Ginevra’s in and out, has examined the picture on that day’s issue of the Daily Prophet more times than he should have. He knows the marquise droplets of Ginevra’s gems and the chevron curve of her ring, the blankness of Potter’s own band a dream and a question in his mind.

The band that’s resting on the counter is different. Rustic gold and a fissure in the middle, the fertile earth splitting open to reveal a stream of diamonds, a sparkling river. Draco sets his mug to the side and holds the ring up close, his finger smoothing over the grooves of its texture.

“Did you make a stop at a jewelry store before breaking into my home?” He asks.

“No,” Harry murmurs. Draco looks at him in surprise. “I’ve had this with me for months.”

A pause.

“I thought you said you were in denial.”

“I was, but I knew, somewhat, that I wanted someone else,” Harry’s head lowers, slow and careful, until his forehead rests against Draco’s shoulder. “I told myself that I just liked the way it looked, had to get it in case I didn’t want the other ring anymore. But I got it a size smaller. Been carrying it in my pocket ever since.”

Draco’s heart throbs and throbs. Large hands circle his waist, bunching up the back of his sweater and pressing him close, chest to chest. A blanket of pure heat envelops his body as he breathes in the timeless saffron and neroli of cologne, half-lidded eyes pinned on the band he’s given. Oh, dear, he thinks, and again when it settles at the base of his ring finger with ease, as if it belongs there and never left. Oh, dear.

[tinyarmedtrex]

18+4+7 Reddie? 💖

“Omg is that Richie Tozier?”

“Is it?!!?”

“Omg it is!” 

“RICHIE!” 

Richie cringed as he heard the chorus of voices behind him. He knew that leaving his hotel was risky and he’d been spotted within the first five minutes. He heard more voices calling for him but ignored them, instead pulling his collar high and walking faster. Normally he would stop and sign autographs but he was supposed to be incognito. He was on location for filming a small cameo for a film, one that people weren’t supposed to know he was in, so stopping for selfies and autographs wasn’t a good idea.

Too bad the growing crowd didn’t get the memo. They continued to follow him as he hurried down the busy street. Damn his determined fans. For years, Richie had flown under the radar until recently when he’d had a starring role in a streaming show where he played a flamboyant demon who was clearly in love with a disgruntled angel. The show had been a runaway hit and he hadn’t had a moment’s peace since. Mostly it was fun, he loved the excitement and hearing how much people loved the show but there were times like this he missed being unknown.

Trying to think quickly he turned a corner and ducked into a bookstore, hoping that they wouldn’t see him. Barely looking up he hurried to the back of the store, intent on hiding in the historicals. At least until he turned a corner and ran face first into something.

“What the hell!”

Or someone. 

Richie looked down, seeing a man sprawled on the ground, a smashed mug next to him and coffee already staining his shirt. 

Shit.

“Ah man, I’m sorry I-” Richie reached down to help him but the guy just glowered at him, getting up on his own. Despite the death glare he was getting Richie couldn’t look away. He was cute, like ‘holy crap are you a figment of my sleep deprived imagination?’ cute. And also angry, very angry. Somehow that only made him more attractive. Richie tucked that fact away to discuss with his therapist at a later date. 

“You broke my favorite mug. And ruined my favorite shirt.” The guy said, frowning as the coffee dripped off him.

“I’ll buy you a new one. Or ten.” Richie quickly offered. “Or get it cleaned? Just take it off, I’ll bring it to the cleaners right now.”

The man looked up at him and Richie waited for the recognition, for him to act differently like everyone always did.

“I’m not stripping in front of a stranger.” The man said, shaking his head. Richie breathed a sign of relief, maybe the guy wasn’t a fan of fantasy streaming shows. “You can clean up the spill while I change though.” He waited for Richie to nod then disappeared, returning a minute later with a rag. 

“It’s the least I can do.” Richie said. 

The man’s face said, ‘yes, exactly.’ 

“I’ll be right back.” He said as Richie bent down, sopping up the coffee and picking up the broken pieces. 

True to his word the man returned quickly, wearing a new shirt but still looking annoyed. “I hope that didn’t ruin any books.” He said, bending near Richie and inspecting the spines.

“I’ll pay for it.” Richie said, lifting his head to stare at the man again. His fingers traced the spines with obvious love and Richie’s stomach fell. This was a terrible start.  “Anything that’s ruined.” He promised. 

The guy met Richie’s eyes, looking skeptical. “Did you bother to pay attention to what aisle you were in?”

Richie had to admit he hadn’t, he’d been focused on escaping the crowd. The guy pointed up to a small sign- First Editions and Signed copies. Of course. 

“It doesn’t matter. It was still my fault. I didn’t look. And I’ve been meaning to grow my book collection. This is as good a reason as any.”

The guy bit his bottom lip, making him even more attractive. God Richie had managed to piss off the cutest guy in the bay area. 

Finally he nodded. “Fine, let’s get this cleaned up and then we’ll assess the damage.” 

Richie nodded, relieved, and reached for a piece of mug at the same time the guy did, their hands brushing. Richie hoped he wasn’t imagining the blush that crept up the man’s neck. 

“What’s your name?” He asked, deciding that he probably couldn’t make this worse. “For when I write out that big check.” 

For the first time in their short interaction the guy smiled. “I don’t take checks.” Richie shrugged and he continued. “You really didn’t pay attention.” Richie shook his head and the man pointed behind him. There was a big sign that read ‘Eddie’s Eclectic & Rare Books- now open!’

“Eddie?” Richie confirmed and the guy nodded. “I’m Richie.” 

“Nice to meet you.” Eddie stood, taking the dirty rags and broken mugs with him. Together they grabbed all the books that may have been stained, taking them to the front desk.

“Did you just open?” Richie asked, leaning on the desk while Eddie examined the books, carefully thumbing through the pages.

He nodded. “A post divorce gift to myself. I left the stock market and opened this place.” He smiled as he looked around the shop. Richie could see the obvious pride in his eyes and he fell even more for the guy. 

“How’s business?”

Eddie shrugged. “My first customer of the day is only buying things because he’s a klutz.” Eddie replied, glancing at Richie and smiling softly. “No one buys books anymore.” 

Richie wanted to buy the whole store, just to see Eddie smile again. 

They chatted while Eddie cleaned the books, separating them into two piles. When he was done Eddie ran a finger down the spines. “I can’t ask you to buy all these. One is a limited edition print of Hellraiser. It’s too expensive.” 

“I want it. I need more Clive Barker in my life.” Richie said, taking out his credit card. Eddie hesitated only a second before taking it, ringing up the books and putting them in a box for Richie. 

“You’ll need to sign this. And maybe leave your number, in case I see that others have damage.” Eddie said, the tips of his ears turning pink. 

Richie scrawled his name and number down, handing back the receipt. Then he looked at Eddie, reluctant to leave. He couldn’t believe that he’d made it through this interaction unrecognized.  “You really had no idea, did you?” 

“About what?” Eddie asked. 

Richie debated telling him, wondering if he was being dishonest if he didn’t. But he didn’t want to risk ruining this, not yet.

He decided to shoot his shot. “What if I tell you tonight? I can pick you up at seven.” 

The small smile grew on Eddie’s face and he nodded. “I’d love that.” 

Richie could barely contain his own smile as he grabbed the box of books, leaving with one final look back at Eddie. The man was already bent over the counter, chewing on his bottom lip as he look at his books. Richie couldn’t wait for 7pm. 

@trashmouthtozierr  @wheezyeds  @constantreaderfool  @jem-carstairs-is-perfection  @moonlightrichie @lifesucksheres20bucks @thorn-harvester-ven @eddiefuckinkaspbrak @andaleduardo @xandertheundead @s-s-georgie @s-onora @spirited-marvel  @roobarrtrashmouth @njess04 @gczebos @kasp-brakz @sourmoist @playing-jim @princesass-theresa @theandrewhurley @mimiharu @kaspbrak-tozier-reddie @no-she-wasnt-reddie  @oldguybones @sloppybitxch   @lumiereandcogsworth @sedanleystanley @kaspbrak-king @ticomat @hadererer @da-damned @purplepoisonedgem @sparklingrainbowdragon @richietoaster @sxndythinkstoomuch @overcastedhills

[katahnisharma]

the bookworm | t.h.

Summary: Tom keeps seeing this girl on the train, and he may or may not have found out where she works.

Warnings: it’s very soft my guys and i’ve had a rough week with bad news so I hope you guys like it let me know what you think :)

A/N: Sorry I’ve been so MIA recently, life has been tough but I'm trying to get through the asks in my inbox (no promises) and the Press Tour which has felt a little forced so I'm taking it slow thanks for being patient. Also Tumblr apparently won’t let me link things so if you’re looking for my masterlist, playlist, taglist, or writing challenge it’s in my bio ♡

Tom had been watching you for weeks.

He was fascinated by you, the cute girl on the subway. Your routes crossed in the afternoons, when Tom came back from his walk and you went for your part time shift at the bookstore across town. It was a small independent bookstore, the kind that remind you of cozy libraries and cups of hot tea. Tom had passed by it numerous times, but he hadn’t ever been interested in it until you came along.

God, you were so pretty.

The first time he saw you, you were wearing an oversized sweater, light washed jeans, a pair of brown ankle boots, and your hair was in a messy bun. A few strands escaped the hair tie and they fell around your face, framing it perfectly. Tom tried not to stare, but he couldn’t look away. It was like he was in the presence of an angel, the most perfect human being he’d ever seen. You were such a contrast, a soft warm aura in the midst of stuffy crowds of commuters.

And then there were the books. 

Everytime Tom saw you, you were reading a new book. He had no idea how you did it, managing to finish a whole book in a day. But there you’d be the next day, your nose stuck in a new book. Tom smiled like an idiot when he saw you pull out another book, it made you so intriguing. Sometimes, he’d go home and look up the titles to find out what you liked to read. His brothers found out and teased him mercilessly, laughing at how whipped their older brother was for a girl who didn’t even know he existed.

So here he was, standing outside the bookstore with his heart in his hands.

There were so many things that could go wrong with this. You could have a boyfriend, you could think he was a creepy stalker, you could throw a book at him and tell him to get out. The worst fear of them all was that you’d recognize him as a famous actor and want nothing to do with him. But Tom knew that if he didn’t do this, he’d regret it for the rest of his life.

Because what if you were the one?

The door jingled as Tom stepped inside, the warm air hitting him in the face. It wasn’t as big as he’d imagined, but it was beautiful. The bookcases lined the floor, dark brown oak structures filled with multi-colored books. There were fairy lights strung across the ceiling and pictures of beautiful landscapes across the walls. In one corner was a chair next to a fireplace and a cup of tea next to it. The store looked empty, the front desk littered with books but no one behind it.

Tom ventured forward a little, smelling tea from behind the desk. It looked fresh, so someone must be about. He noticed a book on the desk and smiled to himself. The Bell Jar, the book you were reading this afternoon when he last saw you. It was a little worn, so Tom assumed it was one of your favorites. He ran the pages through his fingers and chuckled when he noticed you’d written things in the margins. Little lines of poetry or annotations to yourself. Tom had no idea how someone could be as cute as you, and he didn’t even know your name.

A noise brought his attention to the middle aisle, a bookcase with a plaque that read Romance. Tom walked over and his breath hitched. There you were, atop one of those slidey ladders he’d seen in Beauty and the Beast, looking like an angel. Your hair was loose and cascaded down your back in messy waves. You wore a pair of black overalls with embroidered flowers, a light purple shirt, and a pair of pale pink converse. A stack of books was located by your feet, which you were currently trying to shelf. Tom tried to speak, but he didn’t know what to say.

I love you, I’m in love with you and we’ve never even met.

Suddenly, you lost your footing. Your right foot caught on the last rung and you gasped as you felt yourself fall backward. Tom broke out of his daydreaming and sprung into action, catching you in his arms. You yelped, not sure where the young man had come from. And yet here he was, holding you in his arms. Your face flushed.

“Oh my god, thank you.” You said, your breath coming back to normal. Tom set you down shakily, making sure you could stand. Then you turned to face him, and you almost died then and there. You clamped a hand over your mouth to stop from screaming.

“Y-you’re Tom. Tom Holland, Spiderman. What are you... what?” You stuttered, nervous as hell. One of your favorite actors of all time was standing in front of you, and he’d just caught you from a fall. Tom stood there, trying to think of something funny or clever to say. But he took one look at your beautiful face and his senses left him.

“Yeah, I’m Spiderman. I mean Tom! Tom Holland, that’s me.” Tom said, trying to shake off how stupid he sounded. He put a hand on the bookcase behind him, trying to get some leverage. You picked up a book to hold to your chest, anything to calm you down. Out of habit, you crossed and uncrossed your ankles, just something to do.

“Wow, I can’t believe...thank you. That could have been pretty bad, it’s high up there.” You squeaked, running a hand through your hair. You were well aware you looked ridiculous, but there wasn’t much to do about it now. Tom finally managed a smile, though it was a shy one.

“Of course, no problem. Glad you’re okay.” He said, taking a small step forward. You blushed as Tom’s eyes met yours, something in them could turn you to mush. You took a step forward, still clutching the book to your chest. The smell of the books and the tea you’d left on the desk was intoxicating.

“I’ve, uh, seen you before. On the train.” Tom said, watching your eyebrows furrow. Crap, he shouldn’t have said that. Now it was all ruined, you would think he was a stalker and run him out of the store. What possible explanation could he give for knowing where you work? Could God just strike him down already?

“Me? You’ve seen me on the train? When?” You asked, not sure whether he’d seen someone else and confused it with you. After all, why would a famous actor have taken notice in you? He must have meant someone else, there was no way it was you.

“Everyday, really. You’re always on the train at the same time I am, I see you across the car. Like casually, of course.” Tom said, realizing he was revealing how obsessed he was. You giggled, surprised that someone so smooth could be so nervous around you. It was endearing, honestly.

“Oh, I’m always reading. No wonder I’ve never noticed you before.” You whisper, staring at the shelf behind him. It was so hard to look him in the eyes, you felt like a fraud. Tom should be out with Zendaya or some other celebrity. Not here in your little bookstore with someone like you.

“I know, you’re always reading a different book. Today it was The Bell Jar, right?” He asked, and you smiled at the fact that he had remembered. You walked back to your desk, Tom behind you, and put the stack of books on top to the side.

“Yes, it’s wonderful. Have you read it?” You looked to Tom who gave you a bashful grin. He had not, indeed, read the book. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d opened one. But Tom couldn’t bear to tell you that, so he told a white lie.

“Yeah, one of my favorites. I’ve read it tons of times.” He said, smiling when you did the same. You knew he’d never read The Bell Jar, but you didn’t mind. Tom was kind and that was all that mattered. You’d met plenty of men that were avid readers but unfortunately total jerks. Tom could have stared at you all day, but the little bell broke the two of you out of your trance.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Can I help you?” You asked, as the old woman smiled at the two of you. She shook her head, wandering near the fireplace. After she warmed her hands, the woman turned back and looked at the two of you.

“What a charming couple you two make.” You turned fifty shades of scarlet, Tom doing the same. The old woman walked through the bookshelves, sensing the two of you wanted some time alone. You looked to Tom, giving him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, that was so awkward. I’m sure you have someone waiting for you, I don’t want to keep you.” You checked the cash register, not trusting yourself to look at him. He was like some weakness to you, and you wanted nothing more than to get him out so life could return back to normal. Tom smiled at you, feeling at ease that you were as nervous as he was.

“Actually, that’s why I came here. You see, I’ve been seeing you for weeks and I really like you. Would you maybe want to go on a date with me?” Tom asked, searching your eyes for anything that would indicate a yes. He was so nervous, his heart pounding in his chest. There were so many ways this could go wrong, and it would have killed him to hear you say no.

You nearly fainted when you heard him speak. Tom Holland had been watching you for weeks? And he wanted to take you out on a date?

Was the world coming to an end?

“Um, a date? With me?” You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling, the whole thing was unbelievable. You half expected someone to burst in with a camera saying the whole thing had been a prank. But you waited for a few seconds and nothing happened, Tom waiting for you to answer. Since you couldn’t speak, you just nodded through wide eyes.

“Thank god, I thought you’d refuse me.” Tom laughed, as you bit your lip to stop from smiling. You extended a hand across the desk, your face lit up in happiness. Tom took it, using his other hand to brush a stray hair behind your ear. You shook his hand, smiling when you felt his hand meet yours.

“Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“Tom, nice to meet you too.”

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[heyyyharry]

Chapter 3: Ruby

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Be My Only)

…in which Harry wants to be good enough, and Y/N is confused.

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Word count: 5.5k

Wattpad link

Chapter 2: Castles In The Air - Y/N can’t stop worrying about Harry, but she isn’t the only one.

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.

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The next morning, Y/N showed up at work like nothing was wrong. With a smile plastered on her face, she busied herself by doing all the tasks in the bookstore, including the ones assigned to Alice. She thought if she didn't have time to sit down and rest, she wouldn't think about yesterday, but once in a while, she still got tempted and ended up checking her messages. All she'd received were those annoying phone ads, nothing from her boyfriend, not even a breakup text. She had to prepare herself for the worst.

While lost in thoughts, Y/N heard her boss calling out her name and hopped off the stool to go see what he needed. The man was sitting behind the reception counter, hunching down so his face was nearly in contact with the page as if his thick glasses couldn't do their job. He was writing something and immediately looked up when Y/N said his name.

"Here you are," said Eddie as he pushed his glasses upward as it kept sliding down the bridge of his nose. "Last week you asked me for five days off from the 24th to the 28th, right?"

Y/N furrowed her brows, looking quite confused as the man squinted his gray eyes at her. "You said your best friends were getting married?"

"Right! Yeah, they are...they are getting married!" She chuckled nervously, making that truthful answer sound like one of those excuses she'd used to get away with being lazy. Her two high school best friends, Celine and Amala, were getting married in three weeks in Holmes Chapel. They'd always talked about how they had wanted to say "I do" right by the lake where they'd had their first date. And Y/N had even volunteered to be their maid of honor. She wanted to blame the recent drama for distracting her, but there was no justifiable excuse for being a shit friend.

Eddie closed the notebook as he put down the pen, his lips formed a hard line. "Unfortunately, I won't be here that week and Alice cannot be alone in the store."

"No!" Y/N gripped the edge of the counter, shaking her head so fast it might fall off. "That's my best friends' wedding, Ed! I'm their maid of honor!"

"I'm sorry, Y/N. There's nothing I can do."

"Come on, sweet Eddie! You know I cannot miss the wedding!" The girl pleaded, her hands clasped together as she rested her elbows on the counter, blinking her eyes at him.

Eddie gulped and out of habit adjusted his glasses again. He appeared more like a teenage boy than a thirty-year-old man. It wasn't just his ageless face; it was also the fact that he still lived with his parents and had never kissed a girl. Y/N found out from his mother, who often brought him lunch and embarrassed him as any mother would, as if it wasn't already obvious. No matter how hard Eddie tried to act cool, he still got nervous around Y/N and Alice, which was why they constantly took advantage of his naivety to get what they wanted. This time, however, he stuck to his decision.

"No means no, Y/N." Eddie shook his head, unfazed by how fast her smile dropped. "You've been here for 225 days, and today is the first day you've actually worked. You're lucky I'm still paying you."

"I...worked when you weren't here."

"Nice try, but the answer's still no."

Just like that, he got to his feet and walked back inside. Y/N intended to follow, not wanting to give up so easily, but as soon as she took a step forward, the little bell above the entrance got her full attention. She turned quickly, opening her mouth to say hello only to freeze when she saw who it was.

"I'm here for the pretty girl named Y/N," Harry said with a warm smile that made her stomach go fuzzy. She was speechless for a moment before finally snapping out of it as he came closer.

"The pretty girl named Y/N isn't here. This one is all you've got." She pressed her lips into a grin as color heightened on her sweet oval face.

"This one is enough," Harry replied calmly, leaving Y/N once again tongue-tied, and confused. Since they met again in Holmes Chapel, he'd been acting weird and she'd been wondering a lot. Was it because he still had feelings for her, or was there something else she did not know? It would not make any difference to know the truth now she was with Isaac. Still, she couldn't help but think about it over and over again. And if Isaac was right, that Harry was still in love with Ruby, what was the point of him looking at her this way?

"Uhm...I'm here to return your jacket." Handing it back to her, he pressed his lips into a small grin to ease the awkward tension between them.

"How do you know I work here?" She asked with caution, watching him put the jeans jacket on the countertop.

"I asked Niall." Of course, Y/N thought to herself, taking a deep breath. For a second she had hoped he'd talked to Isaac, but that idea seemed so far-fetched for now Isaac didn't even talk to her.

Biting her lip, she pointed to his injured knee. "Thought you weren't allowed to leave your house."

"I'm not." He chuckled slightly, giving her a shrug. "But I got bored."

Thea rolled her eyes at the playful answer she had expected. With a smile, she thanked him for returning her jacket, but then said, "I really like to chat, but as you can see, I'm on my shift."

"Oh." He gave her half a smile, shaking his head. "Can you give me five minutes? I wanna show you something."

Yes, she could give him five minutes. She had given him many years of her life, so five more minutes wouldn't make a big difference. But what if they did? What if those five minutes drove them down the same dead-end road again? The hug they had shared in the hospital lasted no longer than five minutes, and it had brought them so much trouble with their significant others. So even though that sounded like a simple yes-no question, but to Y/N, it certainly wasn't simple.

Her thought process was cut short by Alice's deafening scream which nearly broke all windows in this place. Eddie had to drop whatever he was doing at the back to see for himself what was happening here. And his reaction when seeing Harry, though not as dramatic as Alice's, was somewhat similar.

"H-Harry Styles!" The man laughed loudly, admiration lit up his face as he threw his hands in the air. "Harry Styles is in my bookstore, everyone!"

Needless to say, Y/N was shocked. It was only then that she remembered Harry wasn't just Harry. He was also that award-winning actor whose face was everywhere on billboards and magazines. She had known him her whole life thus she sometimes forgot how big and famous he'd become. She might have to get used to this at some point.

"Hi! How can we help you, sir?" Alice said as she pushed Y/N aside with her hip to catch Harry's attention. Eddie was even more competitive. He grabbed Alice's elbow, pulling her back to take her place and speak loudly. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Styles! I'm the store owner and whatever you're looking for we—"

"I'm here for Y/N actually," Harry interrupted the man, pointing to his Bambi, and the smiles on Alice's and Eddie's face had never fallen so fast. They looked at each other, then at Y/N, then at each other again. It didn't take too long for them to figure it out.

"Wait, Harry Styles is...your friend?" Y/N could only nod, watching Alice's massive blue eyes grow even bigger as she turned back to Harry. "Y/N is like a sister to me so can I please take a photo with you?!"

"Me too!" Eddie jumped right in, raising his hand. "I...I want a photo too...please?"

It was no surprise that Alice was crazy for Harry, most of the girls her age were. What Y/N could never have guessed was Eddie being obsessed with Harry too. He seemed like one of those hardcore sci-fi nerds, not someone who would go insane for an actor in romantic movies. But she could judge him later, now was a good opportunity to ask for that one-week off.

"Ed." She tapped the man on the shoulder but he brushed her hand right off. So she tried again by raising her voice. "Ed, hey, about my request—"

"Take as many days off as you want," said Eddie as he pushed her out of the way to pose for a selfie with his favorite actor. He seemed so excited, making her wish she could film this and make fun of him later.

As soon as he finished, Alice jumped right in and didn't hesitate to ask for a kiss on the cheek. She said she wanted to make her Instagram followers jealous, and so Harry laughed and asked which cheek she wanted him to kiss.

"Okay, that's enough. Harry must go now," Y/N spoke once they had taken the photo. She managed to free Harry from Alice and pushed him towards the entrance, but he refused to leave and insisted on showing her something first. She couldn't have guessed what it was, yet she knew they could never talk when the other two were here. So while Alice and Eddie were busy sending those photos to everyone, Y/N took Harry to the furthest aisle from the entrance. Now they could have their conversation in peace.

It was so quiet here that even the sound of them breathing became loud, and she was afraid he might hear how hard her heart was thumping. But Harry was just as nervous, his ragged breathing gave himself away. It wasn't their fault that the aisle was so dark and narrow, they both stood with their backs against the shelves, but if either took a step forward, her forehead would touch his chest. That would be very awkward, she imagined.

"Five minutes," she whispered, crossing her arms while holding his stare. And when his dimples appeared, her heart melted fast like ice-cream on a hot summer day.

Y/N remembered this feeling, vividly. In fact, she hadn't felt it with anyone else besides him, and it scared her because she didn't want to fall down that rabbit hole again. Tucking a loose strand behind her ear, she cleared her throat and gathered all the confidence she had left to smile back at him. "So, you were gonna show me something?"

"Oh, yeah...right." He chuckled, scratching the back of his head like a nervous teenage boy as he turned on his phone. Y/N always thought the gesture was endearing, and every time he did that, her heart swelled again. She took a small step closer to look at the screen, muttering a faint "sorry" when her arm slightly bumped against his. Though they had hugged twice, she hadn't noticed until now that he was wearing a different fragrance. She must stop herself from thinking about his new scent, and why she still remembered what he smelt like a year ago to compare.

"Gemma sent me these this morning," Harry said as he showed her the photos of his home in Holmes Chapel. They had finished repairing it, and now the place looked as good as new, perhaps even better. "Robin's youngest daughter is moving abroad, so he and my mum are selling his house and moving back into ours."

"That's great, Harry!"

"Yeah." He chuckled at her excited reaction. "Mum is so obsessed with the garden, I don't think she'll ever want to be away from it for too long."

"She and I both," Y/N said with a soft grin. "When I was little, your mother's garden was like Wonderland to me. I used to envy you for it."

The memories made Harry smile. "But you have Marcy now. I think she did a great job taking care of your house. The flower garden was beautiful before the storm."

"How do you know how it looked before the storm?" Y/N asked in a doubtful little voice and the man in front of her froze to the spot. He wasn't supposed to know about Marcy's flower garden since he had never seen it before. When he came back to Holmes Chapel, that garden had been destroyed, and it was impossible to tell how beautiful it used to be.

Now Harry's good-looking face was taut with angst. He shouldn't have been so careless. If she found out he'd seen the garden when he came back last year, for her, would she start acting distant towards him? He'd lost her as a lover already, he couldn't bear the thought of losing her as a friend too, not again.

While his mind was racing with thoughts, he blurted out the first thing he came up with, "your dad sent me some photos."

"When?"

"After the wedding."

Y/N said nothing else, but judging by that quizzical look, he knew his made-up reason didn't fool her. Harry hoped she would let this go, because if she asked Bradford and found out he was lying, he wouldn't know what to do.

Their private moment was, once again, intruded by Eddie and Alice, who seemed thrilled to know Harry was still here. Eddie immediately showed Harry the online article on his tablet. "You're doing another movie with Ruby Ellis?!" He asked, to the actor's surprise.

"Are you two back together?" Alice jumped right in, both hands clasped in front of her chest. Harry stole a quick glance at Y/N as he prayed she would believe him instead of them.

"We were never together," he said.

"But you should be! You two are the reason I'm bisexual."

"Alice!" Y/N cried out. As harmless as Alice's inappropriate joke sounded, it surely made Y/N and Harry uncomfortable. If only Harry could reassure her she was the only woman he loved. But how would he say those words and make them sincere, when in reality he was still sleeping with Ruby?

"There's more chemistry between you and Ruby than a science lab," Eddie added, seemingly proud of his own joke because Alice was laughing as well. Y/N, on the other hand, could only twitch her lips to show amusement which wasn't even there. Harry's eyes were fixed on her, yet she didn't spare him a single glance. It now began to dawn on him that all effort he exerted to prove that he'd changed, would all go to waste if he kept sneaking around with another woman. It was easy to believe in the obvious, and right now, to Y/N, the obvious was him loving Ruby, and not her.

"Isaac!" Alice shouted, causing Harry to turn his head to the end of the aisle. His brain stuttered for a moment and every part of him paused for his thoughts to catch up. Isaac looked him in the eyes, it wasn't the type of look someone would give their best friend. And Harry felt his limbs go numb for a second there.

"We just found out Y/N knows Harry Styles," Alice said happily, hugging Y/N's arm but the older girl didn't react. Her mind was racing a mile a minute and the big lump in her throat kept her from breaking this awkward silence. Harry already knew it was time for him to go.

"It's nice catching up with you, Y/N," he said and left so fast he forgot about goodbye.

Y/N didn't know which was worse, Isaac and Harry acting like two strangers, or Harry calling her Y/N instead of Bambi. Her limpid eyes stayed on the man she once loved until he was gone, and soon shifted back to the man she was supposed to love. Now that Eddie and Alice had followed Harry to the door, she was left alone with Isaac, surrounded by an overwhelming silence.

She had been expecting a call or a text from him since last night, but now he was here, she felt more afraid than relieved. All the things she had planned to say to him had vanished at once. Her face went pale, and she was picking at her arm as he approached.

"Can we talk?" He asked her.

There were two questions Y/N hated the most: this one, and "do you love me?" She hated to say them but she hated to hear them even more, yet now she was about to face one of them or both. Taking a deep breath, she gave Isaac a small nod, and they stood in the same positions she and Harry had earlier. But instead of ease and contentment, all she could feel now was anxiety and fear.

Looking down to avoid eye-contact, she noticed Isaac tapping his right foot rapidly. She could guess confronting her had really frayed his nerves. He stood with his hands on his hips, thinking for a moment. The tense atmosphere surrounding them didn't help them feel less trapped.

"I'm sorry about last night," he spoke at last. "I could've handled the situation better, but I...uhm...It wasn't right to raise my voice at you and say what I said..."

"You don't have to apologize," she cut him off but he raised both hands to stop her there.

"I do," he asserted, shaking his head fast. "But...I'm not only here to apologize. I think we really need to talk...about us, and Harry."

"Nothing happened between Harry and I. I swear," Y/N blurted. "You have to trust me. I would never do that to you."

"I know. But I wish you had," Isaac muttered, his voice was weak and hoarse. He could tell from the way her face scrunched up that she didn't get it, so he had to explain. "I wish you'd done something wrong, so it wouldn't be so hard to let you go."

"What...what do you mean?" Y/N gulped, her hands were shaking so much she had to hide them behind her back. She didn't want to believe this. She couldn't. "Are you...breaking up with me?"

Isaac's silence was already the answer. Y/N knew that look on his face, and she'd seen it once before when her first love came to tell her they would not work. She had never thought she would see it again, at least not on Isaac, the one person she was sure that would never leave her.

"You know I love you," he lowered his voice to a whisper. Sadness soon transformed her face as she reached out to hold his hand. "And I love you," she breathed. "You know I do."

"Not the same way that you love him, not as much. Never as much." That statement sent Y/N straight to silence. Her heart was pounding out of her chest as he looked into her eyes to make sure she heard every single word he said. "I know you want to believe we're good together and you should be with me. I've been telling myself the same thing, but a part of me always knew we'd been a lost cause from the start. And it's on me because I should've given up when you pushed me away. I should never have taken advantage of when you were most vulnerable to step in."

"No, please don't say that. You did nothing wrong..."

"Hey, hey, it's alright." Isaac held her pouting face as his lips curved into a small smile, but she knew he was far from happy to say these words. "It doesn't matter who's at fault. Maybe we both are..." He exhaled while stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. "But it's time for me to let you go. Not because I don't love you or that I'm angry at you. I love you, I do, and I know you love me too. But there's always gonna be him. And a relationship won't work if we're not each other's one and only."

"We were happy," Y/N blurted as she looked at him with lifeless eyes.

"Yes, we were." Isaac gave her a small nod, not breaking their eye contact. "But we won't be happy forever if we continue lying to ourselves. You believe you should be with me because it's easier than being with him. But let me tell you this, when something's easy, it doesn't always mean that it's also right."

With one last kiss on her forehead, Isaac walked away without saying goodbye. Maybe he was so quick to leave because he couldn't show her how hurt he truly was. But watching him go was definitely heartbreaking. And soon after he had left, Y/N collapsed onto the floor, hugging both knees as the color drained out of her face. There were so many inquiries spinning in circles around her head. What was happening? Was this reality? Was that an official break up? Had she lost Isaac forever? But most importantly, was everything he'd said correct?

In the pit of her despair, Y/N finally came to acceptance. The thing that scared her more than Isaac being right, was the fact that she would always love Harry most of all, even when she wasn't his one and only. And then came the biggest question for herself, what was she going to do about it?

.

.

.

Bitch. Slut. Whore. Cheater. Liar.

Nothing that Ruby hadn't seen.

She logged out of Instagram, secretly cursing herself for even checking the comment section. She had worked in this industry for too long to believe she would get used to the hate. Still, she was glad nobody was blaming Harry for what had happened. Everyone assumed he and her ex-fiancé James were both victims of her 'evil scheme'. They could believe whatever they wanted, she couldn't care less, as long as it didn't affect Harry's reputation.

"Ms. Ellis?" 

The soft voice at Ruby's bedroom door caught her full attention. She rose from the bed and secured the strings of her pink silk robe before turning to her assistant. "So?" Her expression hardened fast. "What did they say, Liv?"

"Mr. Fischer was on the phone with him, and he refused to delete that tweet."

"He said so himself?"

"Yes, Mr. Fischer told me to tell you that—"

"Son of a bitch!" The actress cursed aloud as she quickly grabbed her phone to search for her ex's contact name. She held the device with one hand, shoving the other into her golden locks and asking her assistant to leave her alone.

"You shouldn't call him," Liv spoke, her voice trembled with concern. "Mr. Fischer said—"

"Mike is my manager, not my boss. I don't have to do everything he tells me to do," Ruby grumbled, her glare frightened the young girl, giving her no other choice but to hurry out of the room. Soon after the door had fallen shut, James picked up the phone. He barely finished half of the word "hello" when Ruby raised her voice with anger. "Delete that fucking tweet, asshole!" 

"That's not the way you speak to your ex-fiancé, love." His scornful laugh drove her up the walls, but she let it go and head straight to the point.

"You can go on the Internet and say whatever you want about me, play your victim card, I don't fucking care. But leave Harry out of this."

"You worry about that kid or your new movie with him? But judging from how your so-called fans react to the cast announcement, I think the movie will flop anyway."

"He's more a man than you are. Because only a kid would go on social media to spread lies and beg for people's sympathy," she spoke through gritted teeth. "I told you the truth, and you asked me to marry you anyway. But now you're telling the world you didn't know about me and Harry, that he convinced me to break off our engagement? I knew you were an asshole, but this is just pathetic...Maybe leaving you was the right thing after all."

James seemed unbothered by everything she had said. If anything, he sounded amused. "Don't be so mean, sweetheart. Without me, you would still be a nameless waitress and have men grope you for some extra cash." He chuckled lowly. "I built you up and I can cast you down easily. You should be thankful I don't intend to ruin your life for good."

Ruby shook her head as she released a wry laugh. "You insecure asshole, you've always been intimidated by me. All you've ever done from the start was putting me down and making sure I wouldn't outshine you. I can't believe I used to love you."

"Neither can I." His answer froze her to the spot. "Because, darling, I never loved you."

She tried to hold it in as she exhaled, yet her lips trembled and her eyes teared up. She thought she might lose it any minute now. That wasn't enough for James though, the asshole made sure he wrecked her completely as he went on. "You're just another talentless dumb blonde. Why would I be intimidated by you? Without that pretty face, you are nothing. You can't even act, the only movie scenes that people will remember you from, are the ones of you spreading your legs."

"You fucking cunt..." Her voice was full of breath as her eyes squeezed shut. "If you think I'm afraid of you, you're fucking wrong."

"Because you're afraid of everything, is that right? I don't blame you, sweetheart. It's not your fault that no man takes you seriously. No one will love you for real, Ruby. Not even that boy."

When James hung up, Ruby stood in that same position like a statue. She tried to steady her breath until her assistant burst into the room and told her James had deleted his tweet.

"Ms. Ellis?" Asked Liv as she saw the vacant look on her boss' face. The actress laid down her phone without saying a word and put on a smile as if nothing was wrong.

"Told ya I could deal with that son of a bitch," she said, laughing slightly.

She knew James was wrong, at least about one thing, she might not be the best actress, but she knew she was a good one. Her fake beam had fooled Liv into believing her happiness was genuine. But as the girl left, so did the smile on Ruby's pretty face. Sometimes she forgot not everywhere she went was a movie set, and now it felt terrifying to even be true to herself.

Thinking for a moment, she took her phone and searched for 'Love' in her contact list. Harry had set that name for himself and she'd never changed it, even when they had ended a long time ago. 

⌲ Have you gone on Twitter?

She waited patiently, and her heart sighed in relief when the reply came.

⌲ Love: No, why?

⌲ Nothing :)

⌲ Just wanna ask if you saw the article.

⌲ Love: The cast announcement right? They used a TERRIBLE photo of me.

⌲ Love: But yours looks great.

Ruby was beaming now. That sentence was enough to erase the previous phone call from her mind. Just as she thought she couldn't be any happier, his next message arrived.

⌲ Love: I'm right outside your door. Are you home?

⌲ Yes, give me a sec.

She tossed her phone aside, wasting no time to run downstairs and greeted Harry at the door with the tightest hug. Her happiness probably confused him, but she wouldn’t tell him anything, not James’ tweet, not even the horrible things the bastard had said to her. Now he was here, and she was no longer afraid.

Maybe her elation had prevented her from seeing his reluctance. She shut the door and grabbed his hand. “Sit, I’m gonna make you a cup of tea!”

“Actually, I’m only here to talk,” he mumbled as his fingers slipped right through hers, leaving her confused for a second. Laughing nervously, she said, “we can talk while having tea.”

“It’s gonna be quick.”

Ruby ignored that statement and turned to walk back inside. Something seemed wrong, but as usual, she hoped if she kept on pretending, everything would turn out fine. This, however, wasn’t the case.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Those five words stopped her dead in her tracks. Simple as they were, their weight could crush her numb body to dust in an instant. Her arms fell slack to her sides as she looked back, her deep-set eyes widened at him. “You can’t do what anymore?”

“Us...” He confessed, nodding slightly to confirm whatever she thought was right. “I’m so sorry, but...I can’t.”

She took a deep breath, hoping, with a crooked smile, she could cover up the fact that her heart was speed-racing. “Do I deserve to know the reason?” She wished he had hesitated but it seemed like he already had an answer.

“I’m in love with someone else,” he said without pause. Ruby’s golden brown eyes fell shut as she took a deep breath then let it all out. She was even surprised by how she remained this calm, or she was so hurt that her brain couldn’t function anymore.

“Y/N.” The name made Harry flinch as he met her eyes once again. “That’s the girl, right?”

He didn’t have to answer, she already knew it was a yes.

“You know,” she began again, glancing at the ceiling as she chuckled softly. “When she first said her name, I could‘ve sworn I’d heard it somewhere else. Then I got home and kept replaying it in my head. Y/N...Y/N...Y/N...” She paused, pressing her lips into a lopsided grin as her eyes fell back on him. “And then it hit me, I’d spoken to her on the phone before.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it was two or three years ago I think,” she recalled, looking so indifferent to the way he furrowed his eyebrows. “It was when we called it quit the first time. We didn’t talk for a week and you went to Holmes Chapel for a funeral. Do you remember that?”

“Yeah.” His voice was barely audible.

She exhaled and continued. “The first night you were back in London, someone called you on the phone when you were in the shower. The girl said that her name was Y/N, and asked me to tell you to call her back. But you’d never mentioned a Y/N to me, so I assumed she was just a fan that somehow got your number, and I didn’t say a word to you about that. Never had I expected that...Y/N would be the one you chose over me today.”

She stopped to study his face, letting silence take over for a moment before she asked, “do you hate me for not telling you that she’d called?” Slowly, he shook his head. “Why?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Because she’s dating Isaac?” She emphasized the name as if to make a statement. With tears in her eyes and her jaw tightened, she knew he expected her to yell at him, but instead, her voice trembled. “She’s dating your best friend...Why are you still in love with her?”

His answer was nothing she could have foreseen. “You don’t have to be with someone to be in love with them.”

Ruby had prepared herself for the worst, but she hadn’t thought it would hurt this bad. Her mouth set in a hard line, she couldn’t even face him now that her eyes had flooded with tears. Her elbows pressed into her sides as she hugged herself, making her body look so small. Then she pointed her shaky finger to the door and told him, “please leave.”

Harry only nodded as she turned away so he wouldn’t see her cry. In that instant, she wished he had said he was wrong, and he never wanted to hurt her feelings. But all that she received was “see you at the table read.” And just like that, he walked out.

Alone, and again, afraid, Ruby dragged her heavy feet to the sofa and sat there with her face in her hands. Her eyes shut tight as she tried to drown out James’ voice. But it kept growing louder and echoing through her ears as if he was living inside her head.

“No one will love you for real, Ruby. Not even that boy.”

[sunshine-pup-fics]

V O O D O O // Shinso x Reader

So I actually really like this quirk idea and want to develop it more and make an actual character out of it- but we’ll see how it goes!

Also, this idea just hit me and I really like it... But idk if I managed to write it well... also Shinso feels a little OOC? :p

(Y/n) frowned, gazing down at her supplies before her. There were a plentiful amount of small glass bottles littering her desk, each with a label with something scrawled on it.  She traced her fingers across them, scanning the names for what she was searching for. She finally picked out one of the bottles, holding it up to the light. There was a small amount of liquid, perhaps enough for a few drops. She sighed, putting the bottle back as she quickly packed them all roughly away. She fled to her bedside table, grabbing her phone and purse, before slipping them into a messenger bag. She slung it over her shoulder, heading for her bedroom door. She skidded down the halls, sliding on her socks as she searched for her parents, which she finally found in the kitchen. “I’m going to the store super quick, do we need anything for dinner?” Her mother glanced at her, smiling as she hummed softly. “Ah, if you could grab some snacks for your lunches that would be great. There should be some money on the counter.” She gestured vaguely toward the other side of the kitchen before returning to her cooking. (Y/n) swipes the few notes from the counter, then headed toward the front door. She slipped on her shoes then hurried out the door.

(Y/n) dawdled down the sidewalk, eyeing the colourful storefronts. There were bookstores and clothing stores, with the local grocer just down the road. However, she turned into one of the stores, a small one that was painted a deep blue. A little bell jingled as she pushed the door open, and the scent of lavender seemed to smack her in the face as she headed in. There was a small portion of the wall covered in plants, beside it was a small couch. The rest of the room had shelves lining the walls, with a variety of different sized and different colours bottles sitting atop them. (Y/n) headed for one of the shelves, plucking a bottle from it and heading straight for the counter, which was nestled in the back corner. It was decorated with more plants, as well as some different crystals ranging in size and colour. There was an elderly lady behind the counter, who smiled warmly. “Another bottle of lavender? Is it for your newest little friend?” She expertly scanned it, slipping it into a small paper bag. “Thank you!” (Y/n) chirped. She handed over a few yen notes, taking the light paper bag and bidding farewell before heading back out to the street. She turned to her left, continuing down toward the grocery store. There was a dull chime as she entered, but no one paid her any mind. She began down each aisle, picking a few items each time. Arms full, she headed quickly toward the counter. There were a few people already standing in line, so she joined the queue. A few moments passed before she caught sight of a flash of purple in the corner of her eye. She casually turned to glance at it, only to be staring at none other than her classmate, Shinso. “O-oh. Good afternoon, Shinso.” She timidly bowed, averting her gaze away from him. The boy cleared his throat, keeping his gaze off her as well. “You’re... (Y/n), right?” The girl bobbed her head. “General studies, class 1-C.” They fell to silence. Shinso idly glanced around the store, while (Y/n) resorted to staring down at the food in her arms. Her head suddenly jumped to look at him, and she opened her mouth as if to speak.  Shinso brought his gaze to hers, quirking a brow. (Y/n) closed her mouth, lightly shaking her head as whispered a “sorry, it’s nothing.” 

Shinso seemed to notice her more the next day. They were in the same class, yet he’d never really seemed to notice her. She sat near back, on the furthest row from the door. He wasn’t sure why he was suddenly curious about her. He pinned to the fact that he just wanted to know what she was going to say in the supermarket. He kept seeing her in the corner of his eye. Talking to someone or grabbing a book, or even just passing him in the hall. He kept noticing her, but she seemed totally oblivious to him. Not once did he catch her gaze. It even occurred to him that he didn’t have an inkling of an idea to what her quirk was. The final bell rang and there was a flurry of scraping chairs as the students hurried out of the classroom. Shinso stacked his books, slipping them into his bag before slinging it over his shoulder. He turned to leave, before hearing a small voice call his name. “Excuse me, Shinso.” He glanced over his shoulder, seeing none other than (Y/n) weaving around the tables toward him. She paused before him, gripping her bag strap as she gazed over his shoulder. “I just... wanted to ask if you were feeling okay? I-uh. The rest of the class-Uhm- noticed that you seemed less agitated.” She chewed her lip. Shinso furrowed his brow, before lightly nodding. “I don’t know why you need to know, but yeah. I’ve been feeling... better, than usual.” Shinso couldn’t describe it. As soon as she said that, (Y/n) seemed to glow. Her eyes lit up, and a soft smile graced her lips. She tried to play it off, scuffing the floor with her shoe and pretending to not be too interested. “Oh, that’s nice then! I uh- I have to get going. A few people in the class were just curious.” She bowed her head before ducking around him. He turned to watch her, only catching her (h/c) hair disappear past the door. If he was already curious, he was surely infatuated now. He felt drawn to her. He felt as if he was already comfortable with her like she calmed him down. And he was going to figure out why.

For the next few days, he tried to coincidentally ‘bump’ into her. In the hallways, during lunch, he even headed back to the convenience store a few times in hopes he might catch her again. She hadn’t seemed to change her behaviour, she either didn’t notice his glances or she didn’t care. Yet he had caught her stealing glances at himself a few times. Today had produced futile attempts, as usual. He’d wandered around the store after school, eyeing different foods and drinks in order to at least pretend like he was shopping. However, it didn’t seem she was coming today either. He picked up a bottle of water, quickly heading to the register and paying before shuffling out the door. He turned to continue down the street, only casually throwing a glance over his shoulder. And then he spotted her. Her unmistakable (h/c) (h/s) hair bouncing with each of her steps as she hurried up the sidewalk. She was heading the other direction, but he scrambled to follow her, weaving through the few people wandering the street. He slowed when he passed the store she has come out of. His gaze flickered between the two, before he came to a stop, watching her disappear around a corner. He hesitantly turned toward the store. It was painted dark blue, with a worn-out awning bolted to the wall. He craned his neck, peering in through the tinted window. After a few moments of deliberation, he headed for the door. He nearly jumped when a small bell rung as he pushed the door open. The first thing he noticed was the distinct smell of lavender. He felt as if all his jittering nerves seemed to settle almost immediately. He gazed around, simply taking in the small store. “Do you need anything, dear?” Shinso spun on his heel, realising the middle-aged woman seated at the counter at the back of the room. She was smiling politely. He glanced toward the door. He was too far in to back out now. He sheepishly wandered toward her, coming to a halt as he gazed at the nearest bottles, trying to read their labels. “What can I... hmm.” The woman trailed off, glancing him up and down, brows furrowed. “May I ask what you sell here?” Shinso inquired. The lady seemed to snap from her trance. “Oh, we sell natural oils and extracts. They’re mostly used for things like incense and natural remedies.” Shinso picked up one of the bottles, frowning when he noticed the price. “If you don’t mind, could you tell me about that girl that was just in here?” Shinso tensed as the women sent a stern look his way. “Dear (Y/n)? She’s one of my best customers. Very polite and so dedicated to her craft.” She seemingly smiled to herself. “She’s been buying a lot more lavender than usual recently... must be for someone...” she paused. Her gaze then shot to Shinso and she grinned. “You! That’s where I recognise you from! Ah, of course! You’re her newest victim.” She chimed. “Excuse me?” The woman quickly waved him closer. “Oh, I shouldn’t say it quite like that. You’re a classmate of hers, correct?” Shinso nodded. “(Y/n) has a quirk fit for the hero course, yet it apparently did no good against the machines they set you lot against in the entrance exam. She’s absolutely wonderful. I can’t remember exactly what it’s called, but she uses voodoo dolls! Like in the movies! Bless the girl, she makes dolls for her family and friends and bathes them in oils and showers them with love. Of course, her quirk is involved and whatever she does to those dolls actually does affect the person.” “Wait, are you saying she-“ “Oh! I’ve gone and said too much already! Here, take this lavender oil and give it to her next time you see her, alright? Now shoo! I can’t go blabbering again!” Shinso couldn’t even get another word in. A small bottle was shoved into his hands and he was ushered out the door. 

Shinso was nervous the next morning. He wasn’t sure why. All he had to do was talk to (Y/n). It’s not like he hadn’t done that before... but before he hadn’t know anything about (Y/n)... he trailed the school halls, paying no mind to the other students that killed around. Every step toward the classroom felt a little heavier than the last. He felt as if he had become hypersensitive. He could hear her beautiful laugh from the classroom down the hall. He was in so deep now. He tried to act inconspicuous, simply walking into class. (Y/n) was by her desk, talking to one of her classmates. All he had to do was act natural. He shuffled over, pausing a few feet away as they quickly finished their conversation. He cleared his throat, quickly gaining their attention. “Excuse me, I need to speak to (Y/n). Would lunch be alright?” The girl in question looked surprised, stuttering for a moment before nodding. “O-okay. Yeah. See you then.” She kept her gaze locked on her books, and if Shinso wasn’t mistaken, a faint pink flushed her cheeks. (Y/n) stood quietly by the cafeteria door, watching the few stragglers make their way into the lunchroom. She rocked on her heels, gaze trailing up and down the halls in search of the purple-haired boy. She slipped her hand into her pocket, absent-mindedness beginning to fiddle with the little doll she kept in her pocket. Shinso finally appeared, coming to a halt a few steps away. “So... what is it you want to talk about?” (Y/n) asked. Shinso pulled something from his pocket. Held between his thumb and forefinger was a small bottle. (Y/n) knee instantly what it was. “A-Ah... right... Shinso- I-I don’t mean any harm by what I do! I swear I don’t do anything bad! I know it sounds bad you include voodoo dolls but-“ Shinso cut her of with a frown. “Look, that old lady said some stuff, but I want to know from the source. What’s your quirk?” (Y/n) tensed, a knot tying itself in her stomach. She hesitantly opened her mouth. “My quirk involves what’s commonly known as voodoo dolls. I make them all myself... essentially, like the movies, whatever I do to the doll happens to the person... in a sense. So I... I've made dolls of my friends and family and I take care of them. I use essential oils like lavender-“ She gestured to the bottle he was holding, “to help them feel calm.” She smiled sheepishly. “And uh...” she pulled her hand from her pocket, revealing a small doll in her hand. It had a mess of purple wool hair and matching button eyes. It even had a small u.a blazer. Shinso started at, mouth left hanging open. “Sorry if it’s been to invasive or anything...” Shinso shook his head, earning a surprised gaze. “Why? Why would you care about some classmate?” He took s step forward. “You just... you always looked tired, stressed, overworked. I could see it. So I figured I could help. Even just a little bit...” Shinso watched as her gaze fell to the floor, tracing the tiles. “There’s something else, isn’t there?” He pushed. “I guess once I heard about your quirk... I felt like maybe we were already closer... i... i got shunned by my old classmates for having such an evil quirk. They always said that I’d always be capable of more harm than good. Whispered about how at any moment, I could kill someone...” she sniffled, keenly aware of the wet streak down her cheek. There was silence. Shinso wordlessly shuffled closer. He gently took (Y/n)s spare hand, and pressed the bottle into her palm. “I’ve felt the best I have been in a long time. I’ve actually been able to have a good nights sleep... could you... please, keep doing whatever it is you do.” He fell silent, quickly looking away, pink encroaching on his ears. (Y/n) let a smile grace her lips. “Gladly.” Shinso stepped back, shoving his hands into his pockets. His stoic expression returned. “However I’ll buy any of the oils you need. I’m not allowing you to spend so much money on me.” “What-“ Shinso sharpened his gaze. “Okay. Okay... would you like to accompany me to the store after school then?” “Sure.” “See you then, Hitoshi” (Y/n) turned on her heel and disappeared through the cafeteria doors, leaving behind a stuttering Shinso.

[hereticpriest]

Sparks Part 1

John Wick Post Chapter 2 AU

John was made excommunicado but without the bounty on his head. He moves away and lives a normal life for once.

Warnings: None for this chapter. Future chapters may become NSFW. Canon-typical violence and swearing may occur in later chapters. Will be tagged.

@lvngdvns

It took a while for John to feel comfortable after his expulsion from the world he’d lived in most of his life. Unlike when he got out the first time, he felt quite certain that someone would come after him just for the prestige of having killed John Wick. He wasn’t protected in the same way he was the first time. He didn’t have a contract out for his head, but he was no longer welcome at the Continental, and he had plenty of enemies around the world.

His new home was outside of the city, up in a less inhabited region of upstate New York. The town closest to his new home was quaint, with only a bookstore, a pet store/groomer home business, a grocery store, a bank, a family restaurant, a hardware store and a gas station. The neighbouring town had a Target and a couple of chain fast food places, but anything beyond that would require a longer drive into the city. He had everything he needed close by, he had his dog, and he finally had the time to grieve.

Peace didn’t necessarily come easy to John. It took him months to stop looking over his shoulder and pulling his gun over random noises at night. He stopped wearing his tactical vest suit every day after a couple of months, though he didn’t get rid of it. It took him a while to become comfortable going out, but after a couple of months, he became a regular at the local bookstore. It was a small business owned by a young local woman, and it contained the only decent coffee in town. The Nestled Nook was in the old bank, so it had a very old school aesthetic and a reading area in the back which was once a vault. It was also one of the few places in town that had free wifi, and the download speed was faster there than it was at his house.

Which is how he met Natalia.

Natalia owned and operated The Nestled Nook with only minor assistance from her sole employee, Courtney Holland. Where Courtney was loud and boisterous in her efforts to sell product, Natalia was calm and disarming. Where Courtney was the epitome of youthful optimism, Natalia was what one would think of when hearing the phrase ‘an old woman in a young woman’s body’. They were opposites in almost every way, including in appearance.

Courtney had a sunkissed tan, pin-straight brown hair, and brown eyes that were so light they looked like the colour of honey. She was younger than Natalia by only four years, but her youth shone in a way that made the age gap so much more pronounced. She was not so average in height, but extraordinarily average in weight, and carried both off quite well. Tall as a beanpole with a slight pear shape and thighs that she claimed could snap a man’s neck, Courtney was one hell of a woman.

John couldn’t claim to be very fond of interacting with Courtney at length, as she had a tendency to push boundaries and ask probing questions. That being said, she had also married the owner of the local pet store and had helped him quite a bit when he was choosing things for Dog. He liked her well enough but kept her at arms-length in order to avoid her prying.

Natalia, on the other hand, was as white as a porcelain doll if not for the freckles dotted across her skin. Her hair fell in red curls around her face when she let it down, but she generally kept it in a loose bun held with hair needles and a whole lot of luck. Her eyes were such a light shade of blue that they were nearly grey, framed by long, pale lashes and crow’s feet at the corners that she was far too young to have. Natalia was average in height at about 5’6, but her shape was closer to a typical hourglass figure. She was toned where Courtney was soft, but she always made the excuse that it was from carrying books all the time.

John didn’t believe her when she waved off Courtney’s questions with that excuse, but he wasn’t supposed to be listening from his place in the stacks. He was waiting for Courtney to head back into the coffee bar area so that he could speak to Natalia and get her latest recommendations. She always knew what to suggest, and she always seemed to know when he needed a distraction. Despite his best efforts, he found her to be a rather tempting distraction. Natalia was just over half his age, a gentle soul, and most certainly not his wife. That being said, he had spent quite a bit of time adjusting to his new life and thinking about Helen’s note to him. She had made her wishes quite clear before that as well. She didn’t want him to dwell and close himself off completely. She told him he needed something to love. It had been just over a year since Helen passed away, and he finally felt some measure of peace.

Courtney batted at Natalia playfully, then glanced in his direction and smiled. She leaned in to Natalia’s ear, whispering something he couldn’t make out right before tweaking Natalia’s ear. Natalia’s cheeks turned pink, the blush showing easily on her light skin, and she tried to punch Courtney on the arm but missed. Courtney danced out of her reach and laughed full and loud.

“Even just one good one would last you for a while, Nat. You’re not as old as you act; you can’t use being too busy as an excuse forever.” Courtney practically sang, moving past him through the aisles towards the coffee bar. As she passed him, the brunette winked playfully and threw out a quick “Evening, Mr. Wick.”

Natalia had turned away from him, fanning herself and muttering something about nosy employees sticking their noses into her business. She wore her typical uniform: a black skirt that flared out around her stocking covered thighs and a white button-up topped with a cozy cardigan. If she wasn’t wearing a button up, she usually wore a sweater or a book-themed t-shirt.

“Natalia.” John greeted her quietly, a bit of a smirk tugging at his lips when she jumped in response.

“Oh! John, sorry, you startled me.” Natalia turned to face him, offering him a warm smile that caused the corners of her eyes to crinkle and emphasized her dimples.

“Sorry, my fault. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I’ve finished the last couple of books. I was wondering if you had any more suggestions?” John murmured, rubbing his short beard. He certainly didn’t look as intimidating as he usually did, considering his suit had been replaced by plain blue jeans and a white crew neck. That being said, his posture had only softened a bit and he was still just as quiet as he used to be.

Natalia laughed quietly, offering him her arm as a joke. Her laughter grew louder when he actually took her arm, large hand closing around her bicep to feel out her muscle tone.

“Of course, Mr. Wick. What are you looking for today?”

“Fiction. I’m interested in something different today…” John trailed off, starting to over-think his choice.

“And what would that be, John?” Natalia asked, leading him in the direction of the fiction novels.

“… Romance, I think.” John said before he could worry too much and talk himself out of it.

“Oh, I see. What sort of romance were you thinking? Are you looking for something mixed-genre where the romance is only part of the story, or flat-out romance? Serious, or light-hearted?”

Well, apparently that had flown right over her silly ginger head. John thought briefly of what Helen would tell him in this moment, oddly enough. She wanted him to be happy. She would be upset with him if he wasted away by himself. She was his best friend, and she knew him better than he knew himself some days.

“Would you like to get dinner with me tonight?” John asked after using his grip on Natalia’s bicep to guide her to stop walking. Wide blue eyes caught his gaze, and he offered her a small, reassuring smile. The young woman was silent for a moment, and he started to worry for a second before the corners of her lips turned up.

“Oh, of course John. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging there, I apologize. I just… wasn’t expecting that.” Natalia’s smile was brighter than usual, and there was a humour to her voice that usually wasn’t there. He took that as a good sign, considering the redhead was usually quite reserved. He nodded briefly, stepping just a tiny bit closer so she would have to look up at him.

“Do you want to eat at the Old Chelsea, go out of town, or would you like me to cook?” He asked, releasing his hold on her bicep, though he couldn’t help a small smile when Natalia caught and squeezed his hand.

“If we eat at the Old Chelsea, we will not get a single moment of peace. If you want to cook, I’d be happy to help?” Natalia offered, then giggled softly, “And what you’re thinking is completely correct – I am most certainly using you for your adorable dog.”

John snorted, and Natalia’s smile widened in response. She led him through the stacks to the romance section, pulling out a book before he could catch the title. Three stacks over, she grabbed another book, and lastly, she led him over to a ‘New Releases’ stack to pick up the sequel to one of the books he had read recently. She stacked up the three and put them in his hands, then scribbled her cellphone number onto a piece of paper which topped off the stack of books. John smirked at the sight of the number and the heart drawn next to it.

“Here are my suggestions. Take a look, and then come see me if you need more help. Text me what time you want me to come over. And your address.” Natalia leaned up to kiss his cheek, then headed up to the front of the store, leaving a smiling John Wick with the slightest hint of a pink kiss on his cheek from Natalia’s lip balm.

Twenty minutes later, he purchased all three suggested books from a smirking Courtney. She didn’t say anything, but it was clear she knew, approved, and thought she was very smart for predicting this.

“Bye Mr. Wick. Have a good night.” Courtney sang cheekily after him.

“I intend on it.” He retorted, waving at her over his shoulder, then letting out a short laugh when he heard a thump followed by Courtney yelping.

913 Bois-Franc Ave. Any time after 4, dinner will be at 5:30. Dog is excited to see you again. – JW

Be there with bells on. I’m excited to see him too. What should I wear? – NJ

You just said you would be wearing bells. – JW

Dress comfortably. It’s just me. – JW

I need to wear something under the bells, John. – NJ

Don’t even. I realized it as I hit send. I will be there just after 4. PS Courtney says you have lipstick on your cheek. – NJ

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @NikoleStilinski24!

Dear @nikolestilinski24,

You asked for Online Dating and Misunderstandings or Alive Hale Family Christmas with kids. I chose to do Alive Hale Family Christmas and Kids since I absolutely suck at writing the kind of witty dialogues you need to create a credible online persona lol. I don’t know if this is as fun as you wanted it to be but I hope you like it! Merry Christmas!

*****

5 times Stiles started a Christmas tradition with the Hales + 1 time he didn’t have to

One: Movie and Hot Chocolate

Stiles had known about the Hales. It was impossible not to when you lived in Beacon Hills. Cora had been his classmate, Laura had babysitted him a few times when his mother was ill, Daniel had been a the top scorer at his favourite game at the arcade and 18 year old Derek Hale had been the one that made 12 year old Stiles realise he liked boys too but this was the first time he had seen so many of them together.

A few months back Derek had returned from New York after completing his Masters and opened a bookstore. Stiles had not thought Derek could get any more attractive but the sweater wearing, tea drinking, bespectacled Derek that had greeted him had been way more attractive than the kind but cocky jock young Stiles had had a crush on. A few deliriously happy months and some wonderful dates later and Stiles was attending his first Hale family Christmas.

It was kind of intimidating to see Derek’s immediate family, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents and what seemed like dozens of kids under one roof but the house was warm and smelled like gingerbread cookies and he could feel Derek's arms around him as they cuddled on the couch.

Derek kissed him on top of his head and whispered, “You okay?”

“I’m great. So how long have you been doing this for?”

“Oh forever. Granma Hale started it when Mom was born. I think the gingerbread cookies started when Cora was born though.”

“Dad and I watch Die Hard on Christmas.”

Stiles knew Derek’s stance on Die Hard not being a Christmas movie and enjoyed the way his nose scrunched. “We can do that tomorrow if you want.” Derek said finally.

“No need to get so excited about it honey.”

Derek kissed him again, “I don’t care what we watch as long as it’s together”

Cora who had been silent until now despite sitting next to them gave them a dirty look and said, “Not all of us are lucky enough to have someone to cuddle with this Christmas. Maybe you should shut up before I barf all over you.”

Stiles snickered and cuddled closer to Derek. He was feeling pretty lucky tonight. It wasn’t something he had done before but he was sure he’d enjoy watching It’s a wonderful life and drinking hot chocolate every Christmas Eve with the Hales.

Two: Full Moon Run

The Hale house was a flurry of activity when Stiles got there. He waved at Talia who was standing outside directing the people putting decorations all over the lawn.

“Hey Talia” Stiles said and hugged her. She kissed his cheek and smiled at him fondly.

“Hi honey. I’m glad you’re here. Laura and Derek are trying to bake a cake.”

“Together?” Stiles said suddenly feeling a little scared. Laura and Derek while decent bakers on their own, were an absolute disaster when they tried to do it together. Both of them had a pretty mean competitive streak and were never satisfied with each other’s process while baking.

Talia shuddered a little. “Yes. James is keeping a watch but maybe you should be there too.”

“I will. Dad is coming over to help out with the grill after his shift.”

“That’s great. I haven’t seen the Sheriff in so long!”

Stiles walked into the kitchen and could feel how tense the atmosphere was. James, Laura’s husband winked at him and mimed slicing his neck. Stiles stifled a chuckle and went and wrapped his arms around Derek. “Happy Christmas Full Moon” He said and kissed Derek’s cheek.

He could feel the tension drain out of Derek as he laughed and gave himself an imaginary pat on the back. “It’s not called that.”

“Why not? The only reason you have a party along with a run this full moon is because it’s Christmas time. That’s the perfect name” Stiles said exaggeratedly.

“Whatever you say babe. Laura, I’m not baking anymore. I need to show Stiles around.”

“At least come up with a believable lie DerBear. Stiles has been coming to the house for years, I’m pretty sure he knows where everything is.” Laura said as she made a face at Derek.

“Okay then. I missed my fiancé because he’s been working a lot the past few days and I’d like to go and make out with him now.”

“Fiancé” Stiles sighed, “I don’t think I’m getting tired of hearing that anytime soon.”

“Wait till I start calling you husband.” Derek said and kissed him. Stiles kissed him back and moved his fingers to Derek’s hair.

“Hey! Take that out of my kitchen. You’re contaminating the cake.” Laura shouted.

Stiles laughed and followed Derek out into the yard. Hours later they were lying next to the bonfire watching the kids run around. “I could get used to this” Stiles said as he ran his fingers through Derek who was currently a wolf. Derek woofed and licked his cheek.

Three: Our own tree

One of the things Stiles loved most about Derek was how he could always surprise Stiles. If anyone had told him that Derek Hale who hated crowds and preferred staying at home and watching a movie instead of going out for dinner would navigate him expertly through the crowds in Target two weeks before Christmas he never would have believed them.

They’d gotten married this summer and giving presents together or signing Stilinski-Hale on cards was a novelty he didn’t want to get used to anytime soon. Derek was holding his hand and scanning the aisles for items from the gift list they’d made together. Stiles was pretty sure he had a sappy smile on his face as he looked at his husband but he couldn’t help himself.

It took him a moment to realise they weren’t walking anymore and he saw that Derek was standing in front of an aisle full of ornaments.

“Hey” Stiles said as he nudged Derek. “I thought we weren’t getting a tree of our own”

“Maybe we should.” Derek looked a little nervous when he turned towards him. “I know we go to my parents house for the holidays but I want one with you. A tree we can add ornaments to every year. Something to decorate with the kids.”

“Kids? Getting a little too excited aren’t you Mr. Hale?” Stiles said teasingly.

“Mr. Stilinski-Hale” Derek corrected him and pinched his nose. “So? What do you think? Do you want to?”

“I think I hit the lottery when I walked into that book store years ago.” He said smiling softly. “Let’s get the tree and the ornaments but I’d like some more time to keep you to myself. Maybe we’ll have a kid when we come shopping in a few years”

“Maybe we will” Derek said and kissed him.

Four: Matching Pajamas

The past two years had been one of the hardest of Stiles life. He had always known he wanted kids but with the high probability of transferring his mom’s disease genetically he had also been pretty sure he would adopt. With Derek being a werewolf and looking forward to teaching his kids all the wolfy things he knew it was a surprise to everyone but the two of them when it took them no time to decide to go for surrogacy using Derek’s sperm.

Finding a woman in the know who would keep the kid safe was a different game altogether but after months of searching they’d found a werewolf from Satomi’s pack who was willing to be their surrogate. The months that followed that decision had been exhilarating and terrifying and the only reason Stiles hadn’t had a nervous breakdown was because Talia had been with them every step of the way.

As Stiles sat next to the Christmas Tree with six month old Jasper Hale in his arms he knew all of it had been worth it. Jasper had been born with a strong set of lungs and a dense sets of eyebrows that left no doubt as to who his father was.

He felt more than saw Derek sit next to him and leaned into his husband of 5 years. “John came to the store today.”

“Did he need something?”

“No, he left a package. Said he saw in the store last weekend and thought of us.”

Stiles wiggled excitedly, “Open it then!”

Derek laughed and started opening the package carefully. Stiles knew from past experiences that no amount of needling would get him to just tear the wrapper off so he settled for showing his impatience through his body language.

“Matching pajamas?” He said when he saw the opened box.

“There’s one for Jasper too” Derek said and then started laughing, “Here look at this”. There were two pajama sets and a onesie. All three of them had bear motifs over them with a patch saying ‘Bear Bottom’ on the butt.

“This looks nice. I wonder if we can find any wolf themed ones.”

“We’ll look for some next year.” Derek said and hugged him and Jasper tightly.

Five: Missing loved ones

For as long as he could remember Stiles had been reading the Polar Express every Christmas Eve. It happened when his dad was working nights and only his mom was there to read to him, when his mom died and his dad made sure he took some time out every 24th to read it with him, when he started dating Derek and they spent an hour cuddled together before bed as Stiles read to him and it kept happening even when Jasper was born.

Stiles was pretty sure he cried every time he read it ever since his mom had died but neither his Dad or Derek called him out on it and until now Jasper had been too young to notice how bittersweet it was to continue something even when the one who started it was not there.

This was their first Christmas with Sophie, a ten year old werewolf that had come into the Hale territory when on the run from hunters. Her pack was dead and her mother had asked her to hide and run as fought the hunters alone to buy her some time. It had taken months for her to feel safe but Stiles was glad to see her coming out of her shell recently. It was good for Jasper too who had recently turned six.

They’d had dinner and were sitting in the lounge when Jasper came in running with the book and thrust it in Stiles hand. “Read it, Papa.” He demanded with the trademark Hale pout on his face.

Stiles knew his heart had done something weird when his three wolves looked at him with concerned expressions. He opened the book and was about to start reading when Sophie said. “You have to read the message at the beginning too.”

Stiles felt Derek squeeze his hand and gave him a small smile. “Dear Mischief, You’re the most magical thing that happened to me. Remember to keep believing if you want to hear the bells. Love, Mama.”

By the time he finished the book Stiles could feel the tears running down his face. “It’s nice that your mommy left you a story to read every year”, he heard Sophie say and felt like crying all over again. He cleared his throat and put his arms around Sophie, “Why don’t you tell me a story about your mommy?”

“And then you’ll tell me about yours? And Daddy too.”

“You’ve met my mom honey. But I’ll tell you about my Dad.” Derek said as he ran his fingers through Jasper’s hair.

“I don’t have a mommy. But I have two daddies so it’s okay.” Jasper said suddenly. They had talked to him about different types of families before he’d started school, Stiles was glad the lesson was sticking.

“I’ll start. So you know grandma’s name was Claudia. She was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen…”

“Better than Lydia Martin?” Derek smiled teasingly and raised his eyebrow.

Stiles gasped and then laughed. “Of course. But don’t tell her that! Now shh, I’m talking.”

And every year since just after Polar Express they talk about the people they wish they were sharing Christmas with.

+ (plus) One time he didn’t have to

Stiles woke up feeling overheated. He was pretty sure the sun hadn’t risen and his face was smushed into Derek’s chest. Opening his eyes he saw Sean lying next to Derek and Jasper and Sophie cuddled next to Stiles. All of them were fast asleep.

He had no idea when it had started but for the past few years he had been waking up with his whole family next to him on the bed. Derek believed it was because they were werewolves but Stiles was pretty sure it started because Sophie was quite attached to them and where she went, her brothers followed.

It felt nice, Stiles decided as he walked to the bathroom. With two of the pups being teenagers now, tempers were high more often than not in the house but it was a comfort knowing the kids would be there on Christmas mornings even if they had been arguing the night before. At least they would be until Sophie went to college in two years, something Stiles didn’t want to think about right now.

He freshened up and stared at his family. They had been pretty content with 2 kids but one day Isaac who worked for child services had found a werepup who had been left outside the fire station and a few weeks and favours later, Sean Stilinski-Hale was the newest member of their family.

Derek who now a bit of grey in his beard and hair still made Stiles just as giddy as he had when he was a young werewolf running around playing basketball. Some days Stiles couldn’t believe what a wonderful life this man had given him. He placed a soft kiss on the pups and Derek and climbed back into bed. Derek pulled him closer and kissed his forehead.

“If I didn’t know you I’d think the way you were staring at us was creepy.” Derek said in a deep sleepy voice that sent tingles down Stiles’ spine.

“I’m feeling very content right now so I won’t react to that comment” Stiles said and heard his voice catch a little.

Derek immediately looked concerned. “Hey, you okay?”

“I’m great” Stiles said. “I couldn’t be better. Merry Christmas baby.”

Derek smiled and kissed him deeply. “Merry Christmas. Love you.

[redditnosleep]

Man Up

by Pippinacious

When the bookstore at the mall put up its help wanted posters, I jumped at the chance to put in my application. Between being an avid reader who had practically lived amongst the store’s shelves in high school and a broke community college student taking a semester off to save money, it seemed still customer service.

I got used to people coming in and asking for “That popular book, the one made into a movie” and the edgy teens who moved the Bible from the religion section to fiction. Finding half eaten pastries from our cafe hidden in all sorts of creative places that weren't the conveniently placed garbage cans was an everyday activity and gently reminding parents that we weren't babysitters was a frequent thing.

It was far from all bad, though.

A lot of our customers were quiet and pleasant, it was clean (for the most part), management was nice, my co-workers friendly, and I got a tidy little discount on my own purchases. After a few months of employment, I even had some regulars that I was on a first name basis with.

One of them was Eddie.

He was a polite kid, a few years younger than me, maybe sixteen, and he loved fantasy. It wasn't unusual to go down to that section and find a tall, lanky guy all in black kneeling in the middle of the aisle with a book opened in front of him. The first few times I came across him, he'd look up with this guilty expression, like I'd found him doing something wrong, and quickly put the book he'd been reading away and get up to leave.

He was always alone and often had headphones on; I imagined they were blaring one of the bands whose t-shirts he frequently wore, Iron Maiden or Metallica or something hard and heavy like that. At first, he struck me as the intentional outsider type, rebelling against The Man, an embittered youth who thought of himself as a lone wolf who didn't need anyone else.

When I finally spoke to him, though, I found that I'd been very wrong.

I found him in his usual spot one afternoon and, as usual, he started to pack up the minute I came around the corner. Instead of just letting him go, I decided to try reaching out with a smile and pointed to the book he was putting back.

“R.A. Salvatore’s a good author, huh?” I asked while I reorganized the shelf next to him.

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and answered with a tight lipped nod.

“I was a big fan of Drizzt when I was in high school,” I said.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “I like Wulfgar.”

“He's pretty cool, too.”

We chatted for a bit longer about the series and I was surprised by how he lit up; he had such enthusiasm for the books that it almost made me want to go out and re-read them. We traded names before Eddie had to go and I went back to work, amused at how wrong I'd been about him. Instead of being the angry, closed off guy I'd expected, he was a huge, but shy, geek.

Whenever I saw Eddie after that first conversation, we'd exchange pleasantries and talk about the new releases that had just come in. I wasn't the fantasy buff that I'd once been so sometimes it could be hard to keep up, but Eddie just seemed to like having someone to talk to and he kept me company while I stocked and straightened shelves.

I didn't comment on the fact that he was in almost every afternoon and often stayed until it was just about closing time. I figured he wasn't causing trouble so it wasn't my business.

One afternoon, after I'd just finished helping a nice older lady find her way to the recently popular 50 Shades, my co-worker, Janelle, came up to me.

“Hey, Danielle, you know that kid who follows you around? The goth one?” She asked, like I had more than one.

“Eddie.”

“I guess. He's, like...over in the back corner crying. It's weirding people out. Could you talk to him and get him to leave?”

I told her I'd check on him and hurried to find Eddie, who was sitting against the wall in the farthest corner of the store between the cooking and self-help aisles. When he saw me, he quickly wiped his eyes and sat up a bit.

“Hey,” I said softly. “You ok?”

He shrugged and clenched his jaw to keep any more tears from escaping. I noticed that his hair and clothes looked damp.

“What happened?”

“Just dickheads,” he mumbled.

“Where? Here?”

“School.”

I frowned and crouched down. “Are people bullying you, Eddie?”

He let out a short laugh, sad and cynical. “It's nothing. They were just having fun, right? It was just water balloons.”

“Do you want me to call someone? Your parents or-”

“No,” he said quickly, getting to his feet. “I'm leaving.”

“Wait, if you need to talk-”

“I just need to man up, right? Bye, Danielle.”

He walked away with his hands shoved in his pockets and his shoulders hunched and my heart broke a little for him. I shouldn't have been surprised he was bullied, but I'd gotten so used to him that his dark appearance didn't even phase me anymore. I doubted the other high schoolers were quite so blind to it.

Eddie stayed on my mind well after I'd finished working. From the defeat in his voice and the way he'd dismissed my concern, I knew this was far from the first brush he'd had with these bullies and that nothing had been done about them. I didn't know if he'd tried to tell anyone and I doubted such a sweet kid would fight back, but I hoped he'd find a way to make them leave him alone. He deserved better.

My dreams that night were filled with screaming. With gunfire. With an image of Eddie in his black clothes, blood upon his hands.

I woke with a start. Sweat trickled down my forehead in chilly little beads and uneasiness slithered in my stomach and it took me a few long moments to tell myself it had just been a dream. A very vivid dream that had left the smell of iron in my nose. I shook it away and flopped over, determined to forget it and get back to sleep.

The water balloon incident seemed to be a turning point for Eddie, and not a good one. He'd started avoiding me, but I still saw him around the store, reading and minding his business as he always had, except now I couldn't help but notice that he sometimes had tears in his clothes or that his belongings looked wet and abused. He trudged about like someone carrying a too-heavy load.

And every night, the same dream. Gunfire in the distance, somewhere in the mall. Screaming. Panicked footsteps stampeding towards exits. Eddie in the entrance to the bookstore with red hands and splatter across his face.

It was hard to tell myself that something I saw so clearly wasn't real and it was even harder not to watch Eddie with a new, heightened sense of caution. Whenever I caught sight of him, I'd find myself unconsciously searching him for the blood that marked him in my dreams.

The only blood I saw was his own, when he came in at his usual time one afternoon with a black eye and one of his nostrils coated in crusty, dried red. He disappeared into the bathroom to clean up, I assumed, and, when he came out, I was waiting.

“Who did that?” I asked sternly and he looked surprised to see me.

“Nobody,” he grumbled, turning away.

“Eddie, if someone is hurting you, you should tell someone.”

“Why? I know what I need to do.”

“What?”

“Man up,” he snorted to try and hide that his voice had cracked just slightly.

He'd said that once before, I remembered. “You need to get help, talk to someone.”

“Only pussies tattle.”

It was obvious he was repeating someone and I felt such a rush of anger towards them for putting that bull in his head. I followed him down the aisles to the fantasy section, where he pointedly tried to ignore me, but I was persistent.

“Eddie, come on. You can talk to me!”

After minutes of not responding, he finally sighed and looked at me. There was anger in his face, sharp and deep, but it was clouded heavily by the sadness I saw there, too.

“It doesn't matter. I just have to get through two more years and then I'm out.”

“But you shouldn't have to put up with this!”

Tears had welled in his eyes and he shrugged. “Nobody cares.”

“I'm sure that's not true; I do. We're friends.”

The phone in his pocket went off loudly and he scrambled to grab it. Before he'd had a chance to get it out, the call dropped and a man I'd not seen before came around the end of the aisle with a scowl.

“I should have known you'd be here looking at this bullshit. I've been waiting in the car,” he said.

“Excuse me?” I started to say at the same time Eddie said, ‘Sorry, Dad.”

Eddie’s dad took a step towards us without so much as a glance towards me. “Are you crying, Edward?”

“No!” Eddie said.

“God, when are you going to man the fuck up, huh? No wonder you get your ass kicked,” he shook his head in obvious disgust. “Get moving, Mom’s got dinner waiting.”

I was in too much shock to say anything as Eddie, head hung low, followed his father out of the store. I wished immediately that I'd said or done something, that I'd stuck up for poor Eddie, but I'd just stood there, gaping like an idiot, and then they were gone.

That night, I had the same dream again. Gunfire, screaming, running, panic, and Eddie. Bloody hands, blood splattered face, coming towards the store. All I could do was watch him get closer, until he was reaching for the handle so that he could pull it open and come inside. His dad’s rough voice, so withering and filled with contempt, rose around us.

“Man the fuck up!”

I shot upright in bed, grasping at my pounding chest and trying to calm my breathing.

“Eddie wouldn't hurt anyone,” I whispered, “he's a good kid.”

I wondered how many people thought the same thing about others right before they lashed out.

Usually by morning I'd managed to shake off most of the unpleasantness of the dream, but that day, it stayed with me, following me like some kind of terrible spectre. I'd never been one to put much stock into dreams, but I'd also never had one that had been so real or that recurred every night.

I went into work for my evening shift feeling shaky, but silly. I just had to get through six hours and then I'd realize how dumb I was being.

It was six o’clock, three hours into my shift when I heard the first loud pop from off in the distance. The screams that followed were exactly the same as they'd been in my dream. The store had gone very still all of the sudden, and all eyes had turned towards the glass front doors that led into the mall.

“Was that a-” someone started to ask, but another series of shots rang out. It was all the answer they needed.

Chaos erupted. People were diving between book shelves, overturning chairs to duck behind, a few even clamored behind the counter with me and a couple coworkers. There was screaming and crying, the occasional plea for others to be quiet, but nothing seemed so loud as the gunshots echoing throughout.

It was all too familiar.

Automatically, without thinking, I turned towards the doors.

There he was, dressed all in black, coming towards us, reaching for the handles with his red hand. There were drops of blood splashed across his face and one trickled down his cheek like a dark tear.

He stood in the doorway for a moment and our eyes met.

“Help me,” Eddie said.

I blinked stupidly.

“Danielle! Please!” He turned and waved a hand behind him, “This way, come on, we'll hide in here! Hurry!”

A man half-carrying a woman came into view behind Eddie. Eddie held the door open with his foot and slipped one of the his arms around the woman's waist. He pressed his other hand, already wet and red, over a bloody wound in her stomach. Together, he and the man dragged the woman into the store.

“There's another out there. I saw him,” Eddie said as he passed the desk. “Can you hold the door, Danielle? I'm going to get him.”

I stammered at him, too terrified to form words.

“When you see me coming back, get the door. Please.”

I saw the same fear in him that I was feeling as he ran back out of the store and into the mall, where the gunfire continued.

I crouched behind the counter, barely able to breathe, shaking, half afraid that I wouldn't be able to move when he came back, if he came back, but I stared at those doors and I waited like a rabbit waits for the wolf to pass. So still, but every inch of me burning with a tense electricity that screamed, “Run!”

Amidst the rush of people desperately trying to escape, a tall, lanky boy dressed all in black dragged a wounded elderly man away from the madness back into the book store.

I made sure I was there to open the door for them.

He would go out twice more when he saw others staggering towards us, in dire need of assistance.

When it sounded like the shooter was getting closer, we huddled together in the fantasy section with a few others and we listened to the rapid POP POP POP coming from just outside our doors.

We got lucky, though. The gunman never made it into the bookstore. With police starting to pour in, he turned his pistol on himself and put a bullet into his brain.

The all clear was given moments later.

I had to help Eddie to his feet; he was trembling and sobbing and staring down at his blood stained hands. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, the reality of what we'd been through, what he'd risked, were sinking in.

“I'm sorry,” he kept saying, trying unsuccessfully to stem his tears in shame. “I need to man up. I'm sorry.”

I wanted to tell him that that was stupid. That crying and being afraid didn't make him less of a man. That “manning up” was a stupid, bullshit concept and his dad and his bullies were stupid, bullshit people for making him feel bad for being different, for feeling. I wanted to tell him that he was a hero.

And I would, eventually, but in that moment, all I could do was hug him.

[tricksterbane]

Belly Laughs: The Naked Truth About Pregnancy and Childbirth

summary: Garroway Books is Alec Lightwood’s favorite hangout spot, but ever since Magnus Bane got a job there, he has trouble concentrating on his books. Magnus catches him checking him out one day and, in a panic, Alec picks up a book– an embarrassing one– and pretends to read it. (based on a prompt here) words: 2k warnings: sex reference (i guess??)

The owner of Garroway Books was a tall, dark skinned man named Luke. He was a NYPD detective until a suspect’s dog attacked him and tore up his leg. He decided to give up his career in favor of opening a bookstore with his fiancée, Jocelyn Fairchild. Luke still entertained his customers with stories about the force, some of which were almost too crazy to believe. Jocelyn’s daughter, Clary, was there every afternoon after school. She would sit in an isolated corner with her paint set and her best friend, Simon Lewis. Luke recently hired Maia Roberts, a foster girl with a scrappy attitude and fierce loyalty towards her friends.

To Alec Lightwood, who would often spend hours at the bookstore while his siblings were out being social, the staff was almost like family. They all knew him by name and let him read in silence for as long as he wanted. None of them really bothered him (with the exception of Simon, who didn’t seem to know the definition of the word silence and bugged him relentlessly about his sister Isabelle). The bookstore provided a quiet, stress free environment for when Alec needed a break from his life.

That is, until Luke hired Magnus Bane and the bookstore’s atmosphere completely changed.

None of this was directly Magnus’s fault, of course. Magnus was a friend of Maia’s through the foster care system and Alec had never met anyone quite like him. The system had long ago gifted Maia with a hardened exterior, but Magnus was different. He was a fearless free spirit who refused to let anything stop him from being himself. He shared Alec’s taste in literature and he would always put books aside that he thought he would enjoy when new shipments came in. His instincts were always dead on and Alec’s list of favorite books had grown steadily since Magnus’s arrival.

Even with a whole collection of new books to read through every month, Alec often spent more time focusing on the man himself than actually reading. He’d hear Magnus’ musical laughter as he talked with another customer in the next aisle and he’d have to bite his lip to keep a ridiculous smile at bay. It was even worse when he was actually in his line of vision. Then Alec would get distracted by his brown eyes lined with kohl and his kind smile and the way that his jeans hugged his legs.

Today, Magnus’s spiked black hair was tipped blonde and his eyes were also lined with glitter, which made his eyes flash yellow when the light hit them at just the right angle. Alec had finished his book that Magnus had picked out for him and he really should’ve gone home hours ago, but he didn’t want to leave without discussing it with him.

Magnus was currently helping a perpetually grumpy regular and he climbed up a step ladder with a cat-like grace to grab a book from the top shelf. Maia always flat out refused to deal with this particular man, but Magnus was an expert at defusing tricky situations without bloodshed.

“You’re right, it’s cruel to put books out of reach like that,” Magnus reassured him. “But sadly, sometimes it’s a necessity. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have room for all of our new books.”

“I suppose,” the customer gave him a quick once over. “Thank you, Magnus.”

“Of course,” Magnus hopped off the stool and handed the book to the customer. “I hope your daughter enjoys that book. It’s a thrilling read.” Everyone who met Magnus was seemingly enchanted, which was something that he knew how to use to his advantage. It was truly a wonder that Magnus paid Alec any attention at all, let alone took the time every week to make a reading list for him.

“I’m sure she will,” the customer actually smiled and patted Magnus’s arm gently before departing. Magnus smiled back, the type of smile that seemed to suck the rest of the light out of the room before reaching down to grab the stool. Alec knew that he should look away, but he couldn’t tear his gaze to the way that his pants grabbed at him as he bent over. Magnus straightened up and turned before catching his gaze with a furrowed brow. Alec felt his jaw drop and his heart pound painfully in his chest.

Without thinking, he grabbed the nearest book and opened it to a random page.

“Can I help you with anything?” Magnus asked slowly and he was right in front of Alec before he could process the situation. Alec chanced a look at him and saw that the corners of his lips were upturned in a small smirk. “Belly Laughs? That’s an… interesting choice.”

“Yes,” Alec managed to spit out, even though he felt like his entire mouth had gone dry as soon as Magnus made eye contact with him. “I needed some… lighthearted comedy to break up all the heavy stuff you always give me.” Magnus actually laughed at that, a small giggle that made Alec’s stomach flip.

“Well, I hope you enjoy it,” Magnus reached over and traced a gentle finger over the spine of the book. “Although if you’re looking for a new book to read here, I might not have as much of a chance as I thought.”

“Chance at what?” Alec asked softly. Magnus just gave him an amused smile and shrugged before organizing more books at a nearby table.

“Oh, just some silly idea I had to ask you out on a date,” Magnus stated so casually that Alec felt his jaw drop to the ground.

“A date,” Alec repeated, since there had to be some mistake. Someone like Magnus Bane, so beautiful and intelligent and effortlessly charming, would never dream of asking him out. He would think Magnus was joking, but he had never known him to be malicious.

“Yes,” Magnus met his gaze and Alec could see that he was biting back a smile. If making fun of Alec’s crush was so funny to him, maybe he wasn’t as wonderful as he thought. “But I’m just far too young to get caught up in teen pregnancy drama. Still, I wish you luck.”

“What?” Alec asked with a short laugh. Because his crushing disappointment was quickly being replaced with confusion.

“You’ll have to let me know what you think of the book,” Magnus took the book from Alec and flipped it over so that he could read the page that Alec had turned to. Alec got a glimpse of the title and had never wished to vanish into thin air more in his life.

“Belly Laughs: The Naked Truth About Pregnancy and Childbirth,” he read out loud, his cheeks flaming up in humiliation. He was completely screwed. How would he ever explain to Magnus that he was in the maternity section without mentioning that he had been watching him restock? Not to mention that Magnus now thought pregnancy books were Alec’s idea of “lighthearted comedy”. If he didn’t think he was a freak before, he definitely would now.

“You really should’ve just let me catch you checking me out, this book is very… explicit,” Magnus stated nonchalantly as he scanned through the book.

“Oh god,” Alec blanched. “Can the floor swallow me up yet?”

“Shh, I’m enthralled,” Magnus held up a hand to silence Alec as he leaned against the nearest bookshelf. “Listen to this. ’Finally, his sperm have been put to good use. His poor little fish didn’t have to die in a cold rubber, drown in spermicide, or get scrubbed out of your hair’. She has a point, that’s never fun.”

“It doesn’t really say that,” Alec scrambled to Magnus’s side, choosing to completely ignore his offhanded comment. He flipped the page and widened his eyes as the author went into more detail about her child’s conception than he ever needed to know. “I really hope that her kid’s illiterate.”

“But then he couldn’t ever get a job at a bookstore and spend way too much time trying to seduce an adorable but frustratingly clueless customer with book lists,” Magnus sighed morosely as he met Alec’s gaze. “And it would be truly tragic to deny him of that, wouldn’t it?”

“I guess,” Alec couldn’t help but grin. Magnus stepped closer and placed a quick kiss to Alec’s lips. It was over before Alec could react at all or even process that he tasted vaguely of strawberries or that he raised that horrid book to shield their faces from the rest of the store.

“I’m sorry,” Magnus raked his teeth over his lower lip gently, his eyes shining with amusement and something else that Alec couldn’t quite place. Alec just stared dumbly back, his heart racing and his own lips tingling with an urge for more. “You just have an incredibly beautiful smile. I know we haven’t had a proper date, but I was overcome with the urge to kiss you.”

“I- um,” Alec rubbed the back of his neck gently. “That wasn’t a real kiss.” Magnus’s eyebrows shot up and he opened his mouth in a quirked smile, seeming to already have a quip prepared, but Alec had already gone for a second kiss before he got to hear it. He took his time in getting to know how Magnus kissed, from the slight pressure of his chin pressing up against his own to how damn soft his lips were to him raising the book back up again (and now their first two kisses were hidden behind the pages of a horrifyingly detailed pregnancy book) to the smile that hadn’t quite disappeared. Alec could feel Magnus surrender control, seemingly deciding to eagerly follow Alec’s lead instead of fighting for power. He was beginning to remember that he was kissing Magnus at his place of work and how, while Luke would never fire him for that, it could still land him in a bit of trouble. Magnus broke the kiss before he could concern himself too much and looked back at him, his eyes glimmering with happiness.

“I should get back to work,” Magnus said softly as he lowered the book back to his side. Alec wanted to kiss him again and give him the same control that Magnus had given him just to see where it would lead. “But my shift ends in about an hour and a half. We could go to that cute little bakery across the street and pick up a snack?”

“I would love that,” Alec stated quickly. For the first time, he heard a flicker of hesitation in the always confident Magnus Bane’s tone. “A lot, actually. I can’t wait, Magnus.”

“Wonderful,” Magnus placed a quick kiss on Alec’s cheek before putting Belly Laughs back on the shelf where it rightfully belonged.

Magnus spent the rest of his shift sneaking winks in Alec’s direction and bringing him increasingly ridiculous books when the crowds lulled. Alec spent the rest of it avoiding the parenting aisle like the plague and flipping through the books when Magnus started to take up too much of his thoughts.

After Magnus got off of work, he found Alec and they left Garroway Books together. They weren’t quite hand in hand, since Alec wasn’t a huge fan of PDA, but they walked close enough together so that their arms would brush together as they swung at their sides. Magnus spent their date listing the books that were coming in the next shipment to give Alec a heads up on what to expect with his next book list and breaking off pieces of his cupcake to give to Alec. Alec had always enjoyed listening to Magnus talk and watched him with a fond smile as he moved his fingers animatedly while describing a Stephen King novel that was expected to be delivered.

They sneaked many quick kisses in between conversation points, but neither of the boys felt compelled to hide them anymore.

[looselucy]

Bloom

70 I’d decided to book a week off work, with no ulterior motive than to just have some time off. Just giving myself a little room to breathe, some time to clear my head, to relax and immerse myself in having no worries and doing absolutely nothing; to be blissfully un-busy. By the Monday afternoon I was bored.

I was stood looking around my flat in silence, arms folded, bottom lip extended, and it was only in that moment that I realised being un-busy didn’t really suit me. Not anymore. Maybe when I was younger, it was fine, but having a full-time job and living on my own had awoken this need in me to actually keep myself busy. “Well fuck.” I mumbled to myself. “This is rubbish.” I’d made such a fuss about taking the time off. Dave had once again been reluctant, but I’d fought another battle and he’d finally caved. I couldn’t ring up and just be like I’ve changed my mind because he’d laugh and get smug, and I’d spend the rest of the week sat at that desk being utterly miserable. I needed to try and make the most of this time off. I picked up my phone and clicked on my recent calls, finding Harry’s name within seconds and then pressing it, holding the phone up to my ear and praying he’d be free. The rest of the gang were at work, Mo was working, and Harry was one of my final hopes. He answered pretty quickly. “Hey, you.” His tender voice called. “Hi! You okay?” “I’m great, how are you?” “I’m alright, but I’m bored. I booked a week off work and I have no idea why. I’m like… four hours in and I’m bored out of my mind.” He released a low chuckle, a slight shuffling sound pushing through my speakers, and I could picture his dimpled smile perfectly. “You regretting it?” He asked. “Well, that depends. Are you working?” “No, um, I’m working the weekend so I have today and tomorrow off. You wanna do something?” “I need to do something.” “So you’re using me for entertainment?” “Are you complaining?” I raised my brows. “Not at all.” I smiled down to the floor, blushing somewhat, pleased that he didn’t mind that he was now on my list of people who I wanted to spend my time with. Harry was happy that I was choosing him to keep me occupied; to extinguish my boredom. “Good. You better not be.” I cooed. “So, what can we do?” “I was thinking the other day, about the book you got me for Christmas. I was looking through it. I still love it, by the way.” “Good, I’m glad.” “But I was also thinking… you never took me down to that bookstore. Where you got it from. You said you would.” “I did.” I giggled. “So let’s go, and we’ll take the day from there.” 71 I was looking at Harry rather than looking at the literature. His eyes were glistening as he glanced over the words of a giant book he’d picked out, something historical that looked ridiculously complicated and ridiculously heavy. But he looked so happy. Stood among the poetry and wonder of the written word, Harry Styles looked exquisitely blissful, his smile affectionate, his curls defined, eyes alight and heart heavy. He looked wonderful. Truly beautiful. I concentrated on his large hands as he flicked through a few more pages, running his hands down the paper and inhaling the scent of the book in his hands and those that surrounded him. The bookstore was tiny, and every single shelf looked like it could fall apart at any second under the weight of the books they’d homed. Every single inch of the place needed painting, or at least dusting, but it was perfect. It felt like home whenever I walked in. Dodging down those tiny little aisles and searching for hidden treasures was one of my favourite things to do. Harry seemed to be enjoying it too. “I need this book.” He sighed wistfully. “But we have entire day planned, and it’s just gunna weigh me down, isn’t it?” “It looks heavy.” “It’s pretty fucking heavy.” He nodded, placing it back on the shelf. “I’ll have to come back another day. I hope it’s not gone.” “It won’t be. I’m pretty sure Arthur only has about ten people who come in here. He knows everyone by name. He’s great.” “Well, I need to meet him.” “You do. C’mon.” I instinctively took his hand in mine, pulling him towards the back of the store, whispering a timid curse to myself when I noticed Harry tightened his fingers around my hand. I thought back to when we’d shared a taxi just over a week ago, and found our fingers intertwining, and it had felt like the most normal thing in the world. It didn’t feel normal in the light of day without a drink in me. I could tell that it was weird that I’d just naturally take his hand in mine and think barely anything of it. I found that my fingers wove through his like silk, our touches easing together. And even though I was silently cringing as I dragged him in the right direction, wondering how we’d ended up being that way together, I still didn’t want to pull my hand from his. I liked that I could feel his thumb rubbing against my skin, like a silent comfort. I liked that my hand was stretched to suit the size of his grasp. I liked everything about it. “Arthur!” I yelled gently. We stood behind the tiny counter at the back, our hands still linked, and a few moments later he pottered through the back door, his glasses falling off the end of his nose before he pushed them back up, bringing the two of us into focus. “Florence!” His smile grew with the word. “Where’ve you been?” “I’ve been busy, but I’ve still been raving about this place, don’t worry.” I giggled. “I brought a friend of mine. This is Harry.” Harry automatically reached his hand across the counter to the frail man, who reached back, and his smile warmed my soul. “Nice to meet you, sir.” Harry greeted. “I can’t remember the last time someone called me sir.” Arthur chuckled, gently shaking his hand. “I told Harry all about this place. He’s been very eager to visit.” “You have a lovely store.” Harry returned his hand to his side, squeezing my own hand with his other. “It’s a great collection.” “Thank you. I’m very glad you like it. What’s your name again, sorry?” “Harry.” “And are you Florence’s boyfriend?” “No!” He replied quickly, the two of us speedily tearing our touch apart. “We’re just um… We’re good friends.” Arthur let out a soft snigger, shaking his head at the two of us. I glanced up to Harry, seeing the quizzical look in his eyes, and the sweet smile on his lips. “Yeah, I’ve read enough novels to know how that turns out.” Arthur finally said. “You must have been reading some cheesy novels.” I tried to diminish the weight of the words he’d just said. “All the great novels are.” He concluded. Freckles of pink were blooming in Harry’s cheeks, a meadow of flushed roses crafting upon his soft skin as he looked towards his feet, bashful and giddy over just a few words. My stomach bounced watching him. My head ached watching him. I’d told myself that I wanted to enter this new stage of our friendship with an open mind and an open heart, but it still felt completely bizarre when my stomach would flip over such minor tremors in his body, how sometimes even just a few words from his lovely lips could make my heart beat a little harder. It wasn’t a feeling I was accustom to. Watching him often felt like watching the sunset. This feeling that was overwhelming, consuming, magnificent and warm, like his splendid glow could illuminate every single person within reach of his light. No one else had that effect on me. I knew that. “Uh, I… It was lovely to meet you.” Harry choked, snapping me back to reality as I turned to look away from him. “I’m sure I’ll see you very soon.” “Have a lovely day.” He wished. “Thanks again, Arthur.” I said, gradually turning on my heel. It was like I felt like being outdoors would clear my head, like I could just forget Arthurs knowing snigger and that Harry would no longer feel like a warm sunset, but just like every other person in my life. I thought being outside would wash away those couple of minutes that had made me feel so weird and flustered. I felt like I’d gotten lost in a world I wasn’t familiar with, maybe one of the worlds from one of the surrounding novels. But when I finally got outside, I turned to watch Harry quickly following, his cheeks still pink. It was my universe. They were my feelings. Accompanied by the sound of seagulls, and the boats that were pulled into the docks on my left hand side, I began marching down the street, thinking I was moving with speed, but it took no effort for Harry to keep up with me. Harry and his stupid, long legs. “You alright?” He asked me. I knew he’d pick up on something, because Harry was used to slowing his pace down to accommodate for me. I was running away again, like I always did, but I was trying to keep it discrete. “I’m fine.” I shuddered, not turning to face him. “You sure?” Suddenly, I stopped, halting abruptly and taking a few deep breaths, forcing myself to just take a moment and calm down, because I was getting worked up. Harry came and stood ahead of me, his brows creased as he looked down to me. “My sisters having an engagement party next month.” I gasped. “Right?” “I don’t think I’m gunna go.” I focused my gaze on the ground. “Why?” “What the fuck has she ever done for me?” I was taking one emotion and twisting it into another. I had been completely dumbfounded by those unfamiliar thoughts of Harry, and I couldn’t deal with them. So, I altered where my thoughts were, turning his potion into poison and conjuring up the thought of my sister. “What?” Harry was completely thrown off course by my tone. “She hasn’t ever done anything for me.” I was shaking. “And-and we’re not even close. I want her to feel fucking miserable when I don’t show, because she’s never done anything for me.” I was working myself into a frenzy, barely pausing to breathe as I rushed through my words, barely even noting what I was saying. I just felt like I needed to say something; anything to take my mind to somewhere new. “I think she’d be upset, if you didn’t show, Ren.” Harry spoke gently. “Good!” I cried. “I want her to be upset!” “Is that the type of person you’re gunna be? Really? The type of person who repeats hurtful actions rather than loving ones?” I raised my head and looked at him, noticing that my bitter words had clearly left a bad taste in his mouth. The girl stood in front of him wasn’t the girl he knew. She wasn’t someone I knew, either. Throughout all the years of being beaten down by my family, I’d never let it grow into a resentment. I’d never let it develop into something where I felt the need to beat them down, too. “I… I dunno.” I finally breathed. “You shouldn’t want to stoop to her level, Ren. You’ve always made a conscious effort to rise above that bullshit. Don’t change now! Don’t mimic her! Your only intention here is to hurt her, and that’s not you! I know it’s not.” He was desperately trying to get through to me, trying to push out this weird anger that had just forced itself upon me. “I… I don’t want to hurt anyone.” I muttered. “Then don’t hurt her. You… You should go. Do what you’ve always done and rise above it. I know it must be easy, for me to say that,” He sighed. “But you… You’re an amazing person, Ren. I admire you, genuinely. Stay true to yourself, please. You’ve come so far.” I nodded, swallowing harshly, feeling sad that I’d let an anger fall over me and be the most prominent feeling I had. I knew I’d never been good at handling my emotions, but in that moment, I completely lost myself, just in an attempt not to deal with something that I was feeling. “Will you come with me?” I asked him. “Huh?” “To-to her engagement-do? It’s okay if you don’t want to, but, you made things easier over Christmas. And I’m guessing it’ll be the first time I see my mum and dad since. So, I dunno. I think I’d just like it if you were there.” He was silent for a while, rubbing the back of his hand over one of his tired eyes. Suddenly, all I could think about was if he’d had another tough night, another evening of restless sleep, and no one there to comfort him. “Do you think that’s a good idea?” He huffed. “I mean, they think we’ve broke up. Wouldn’t it be weird?” My eyes went wide, my fingers finding the material of my coat and pulling on it, mumbling to myself a little before I managed to blurt out a sentence. “Uh… Well… The thing is… I actually never told my parents we broke up.” His head whipped to me as soon as I said that. “I just… I never got round to it… Or… Fuck it, I just didn’t want to tell them. I wanted them to think we were still together.” I watched a smile force itself upon his lips, and a few seconds later he just burst out laughing, turning on his heel and marching in the other direction, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. “What?” I cried, doing a little jog to catch up with him. “What?” I looked up to the side of his face, his dimple digging into his cheek and his nose beginning to crinkle, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s just funny.” He shrugged. “Because I never told my parents we split up either.” 72 I could tell that Harry was smug about the fact that he was sat on the opposite side of the bar than he usually was, Louis shaking his head at the two of us as he made us a second lot of cocktails, once again, free of charge. Harry had a smirk etched into his face the entire time. “I’m gunna slap you!” Louis scalded. “Why?” Harry played innocent. “You’re very pleased with yourself, aren’t you? That you’re not working and I am.” “It’s just fun! I never come into work unless I’m actually working. I like it.” “I fucking don’t.” Louis and Harry could have been mean to each other all night, and it would still be painfully obvious how much they cared for each other. Louis had been one of the few people that Harry trusted when it came to his dreams, and that made me like him automatically. I had met Louis a few times, and of course I liked him anyway, but that fact merely increased how highly I thought of him. He gave Harry the middle finger, but it was still ridiculously endearing. “How’ve you been, Ren?” He turned to me, lifting his eyebrows, very suggestive. It was a little strange, knowing that whenever our friends saw us spending time together, they would automatically predict we were getting back together. Whenever one of them gave me a look, like the one Louis just had, I really wanted to burst and tell them that we’d never been together. I was trying to figure out how I felt about Harry, and I could have really done with being able to do that without my friends and his friends eyeing our every move. It seemed to put all of our movements under a magnifying glass, and when I was trying to keep things realistic and simple, I didn’t like my feelings and my actions being amplified by others. “I’ve been good. How have you been, Louis?” “Other than having to work with this horrible bastard,” He gestured towards Harry. “I’ve been pretty good.” “And you’re not feeling even just a little bit sad that you’re not on this side, drinking with us?” I smirked, batting my eyelashes. “You’re as bad as each other you two!” He slammed our drinks in front of us. “I gotta go serve. I’ll be back in a minute. And you both better start being nice to me!” He scurried off to his left, attending to a woman who was leaning across the bar, probably just in the hope of being a little closer to him, squishing her breasts together and smiling dumbly. It didn’t surprise me when I saw Louis pass over his card to her after preparing her order. “Today was good.” Harry smiled, drawing my eyes back to him. “Will you be bored tomorrow, too? We could do something.” “You not bored of me?” I raised my brows. “That’s never gunna happen.” Once again, I found my head dropping, unable to look him in the eye as I giggled to myself, overcome by his aura once again. I just wasn’t used to boys looking at me in the way that Harry did. I wasn’t used to having a boy watch me with low eyes and a huge smile, or the way he always sat close to me, held himself as close as possible. I was used to either being a temporary interest to a charmless male, or a despondent sidepiece to a boy who didn’t really care about me. When Harry looked at me and said certain things, sometimes it felt otherworldly. I looked back up, finally thinking up a suitable comeback which could get a laugh out of him and make it easier to ignore how flustered I’d become, but the words died in my mouth. I watched as a girl came and tapped Harry on the shoulder, inviting him to turn and see her, and she was quite the sight. “Sorry for interrupting, but don’t you work here?” She asked him. “Uh… Yeah. Yeah, I do.” “I’ve seen you before.” She took it upon herself to sit in the seat beside him. “You look different with your hair down.” “I hope that’s a compliment.” Harry turned so he wasn’t just facing me, accepting the girls company. She had these beautiful, giant blue eyes, long blonde hair that reached almost down to her hips, and the friendliest smile in the world. Even I felt a little captivated by her. I wouldn’t have blamed Harry if he’d opted to completely turn away from me. “It’s definitely a compliment. Even though, you look good with your hair up, too.” I could feel that my hands were forming into a fist, a large intake of air pushing into my nostrils, and I turned away from the interaction. I almost felt sick. “Uh, thank you.” Harry nodded. “So, I saw you hand one of those cards out the other night,” She continued, leaning a little closer. “Does that mean you’re single?” I glanced to her again, annoyed because she was being ridiculously polite and she seemed frustratingly lovely and yet I still felt like telling her to fuck off. I couldn’t even understand what was happening, other than the fact that I hated the thought of him handing his number out, and I hated the thought of this girl speaking to him in the way she was. And I hated the thought of Harry sleeping with some girl that he didn’t even care about. Because this was how I imagined it had gone. He’d been in a bar, maybe he’d even been working, and some random girl had approached him and flirted with him, and put her body on his, and he’d accepted her affections. He’d accepted them so openly that he’d lost his virginity to her, probably without her knowledge that it wasn’t a meaningless one night stand to him. He’d lost something within a woman who wasn’t aware of what she was taking, and I hated that. I really fucking hated it. “Uh, yeah.” Harry eventually answered, seemingly slightly uncomfortable as he cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m single.” “Then, can I have one of those cards?” She questioned. I looked away again, raising my glass upward and putting the tip of the straw in my mouth, noticing from the corner of my eyes as Harry leant forward slightly, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve a card for her. My hands started to shake. I completely looked away, glancing down to the other side of the bar, seeing the faces of happy drinkers who weren’t fazed by this girl. Fuck, I shouldn’t have been fazed by her, but I was. I didn’t want to think about all the reasons I was bothered by her, because it was too overwhelming for me to handle, but she was really fucking bothering me, and if I thought for a second that I had a single leg to stand on, I would have asked her to leave him alone. “I’ll call you.” I heard her say. “What’s your name?” “Harry.” “I’m Genevieve.” “Nice to meet you.” He mumbled. “I hope to see more of you soon.” I plucked up the courage to look again, watching as she walked away, checking back over her shoulder to shoot him one last friendly smile, and then she went to join her friends again. Harry ran a hand through his hair before twisting on his chair again to face me, and he seemed a little stuck for something to say. “She was pretty.” I squeaked, my voice unnaturally high, my eyes on my drink. “Ren-” “But I’m sure you’re used to it. Handing out your card. Must be a nice confidence boost.” “Look at me.” “You must really-” “Ren, look at me!” He almost yelled. I turned to face him, biting my tongue and trying not to scrunch my nose, watching him look at my face and figure out my exact emotion. “What?” I asked. “Are you jealous?” “No.” I didn’t know I was lying, but I was. “If I had known you were going to get jealous, I wouldn’t have done that.” “I’m not jealous.” “Then what’s wrong?” “Nothing’s wrong!” I squawked. “I’m fine!” “You’re a terrible liar!” He half laughed. “Are you jealous? Just tell me!” “I don’t know!” I yelped. “I don’t know how I feel!” I could feel myself getting worked up and frustrated, but then I saw him smiling, this huge grin popping his lips upwards, the feeling began to wash away. “You’re jealous.” “Why is that funny to you?” “Just… You. You’re jealous about me with someone else. I… I didn’t think I’d ever see the day.” “It doesn’t mean anything!” I argued. “It means something.” He fought back. “I don’t know what, exactly. Not yet. But it means something.” “It’s just rude to flirt like that when you have company.” I shrugged, still reluctant to accept that I’d felt a large dosage of jealousy. “Then I won’t do it again.” He was still grinning like a fool. “I’ll focus all my flirting on you, if that’s what you want.” “Don’t be stupid, Harry.” “Okay.” He held his hand up in surrender. “Whatever you say.” I’d given Harry another reason to be smug, because as much as I was denying it, not just to him but to myself, I was exceptionally jealous about that girl, and how she’d spoke to him, and how she’d acted with him, and the fact that he’d willingly handed over his number in the way he had. I stirred my drink with my straw, whispering my next statement, because maybe I didn’t fully want him to hear it. “I don’t think I have any right to be jealous.” He reached out to me, taking my hand and wrapping his own around it, and his touch managed to sooth the shakes that I’d had since she approached him. “Don’t let anyone, or anything, convince you that the way you feel isn’t justified.” He soothed. With a deep inhale, I nodded, wondering why everyone in my life was having to teach me how I should deal with my emotions. I’d become so accustom to running from them, so used to looking the other way and simplifying intricate things. But the main thing was that I was taking all those lessons on board, and even if my progress was slow, things were finally starting to sink in. That was what mattered the most to me. 73 “How many days until Christmas?” Harry asked me as we turned onto my street. “What?” I laughed, buttoning up my coat now that the wind was crashing into us directly. “How many days until Christmas?” “I don’t bloody know!” I laughed. “Loads. Why?” “I wanna sing Fairytale of New York to you.” “Oh god. I don’t wanna hear it.” “Yes you do!” He objected. “Don’t lie! I know you loved it.” I had loved it, though I didn’t really want to tell him that, and it was only the 20th of March for crying out loud. I wasn’t ready to hear that bloody song yet. Even if it was Harry drunkenly trying to sing the words again. Neither of us were too drunk, but I knew Harry had consumed enough that he would be able to get a decent night’s sleep, and I liked that. He deserved to have a lovely night’s sleep. I felt like maybe Harry deserved a lot of things he didn’t have. “You’re a fool.” I told him. “What are we doing tomorrow?” He asked next. “Who said we’re doing anything?” I cried. “Me. I demand that we spend the day together.” “You demand?” I cried. “Yes. I demand.” I laughed to myself as I held the door open for him, letting him inside my building again. I’d told him I’d be fine getting home on my own, but once again, Harry had been pretty insistent that he got me home and made sure I was safe. I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t fight it, just asked if we could walk. Maybe I just wanted a bit of extra time with him. We took the few flights of stairs, and suddenly we’d ran out of words. It must have been one of the first times all day that I’d struggled for something to say. Even when I’d been overwhelmed by my feelings and even when I’d gotten jealous of that girl, I’d still managed to blurt something out, because speaking to Harry was incredibly easy for me. Even though we weren’t speaking, I noticed as we wandered up the stairs, that he was still smiling, and I smiled in return. We reached my floor too quickly, our wonderful day together coming to an end, and even though I hadn’t actually said I’d spend the next day with him, I couldn’t help but think that as soon as I awoke, I would call him and make some kind of plan with him. “Thank you, for today.” I spoke quietly as we walked down the corridor. “Ren, can you just… stop… for a minute? Please?” Suddenly his tone had dropped, and his smile was gone. The seriousness in his voice made my stomach churn, but I did as he asked. I stopped, standing still and turning to face him, seeing the way he closed the gap between us, his eyes down to his feet, moving his body closer to mine. I took a few steps back, shuddering under the intense atmosphere, almost collapsing as he lifted his head and focused his eyes against mine. “What’s wrong?” I whispered. “I need to know how you feel.” “Wh-what?” “Ren, if you feel anything for me, please let me know.” “Har-” “Because if you feel something for me, then I want to do this differently.” I distanced even more, my back crashing against the wall behind me, but Harry pushed ever closer, the front of his body almost greeting mine as I looked up into his olive eyes, his face sombre. “Do what differently?” “If you feel something for me, then I want to do this properly. I want to… take you out on a date. I want to… know that I can hold your hand when we walk down the street together. Fuck, I want to hold your hand all the time.” “You do?” I trembled. “If this is just a friendship, that’s fine… But, it feels like it’s not. It really fucking feels like there’s something here, and if there is then I want to do this properly. I need to know how you feel. Please tell me how you feel.” My breathing was coming out in harsh pants, desperate to run again, but I think that’s why he cornered me. He knew me well enough that if I could just walk away from it, I would. So he didn’t let me. He raised his hand, cupping my cheek with his large hand, running his thumb under my eye and waiting for me to say something to him, to open up and tell him how I felt. “I-I’m confused.” I nudged my cheek further into his touch. “I feel like the only reason you’re confused about this, is because you’re still convinced that I don’t want you. Well, I’m here, now, and I’m telling you I do. I do want you.” I told him that I would do this, that I would accept this new stage of our friendship, but I think one of the reasons I was still in confused, and hesitant, was because I had convinced myself that Harry wouldn’t feel anything towards me. As much as I was trying to grow, it still didn’t seem right to me that a boy like Harry could want a girl like me. I hadn’t let myself truly see that as an option. Not until that very moment. He was there, edging closer and closer to me, so close I could feel his breath against my lips. He was rubbing soothing circles over the skin on my face, and he was telling me he wanted me. He didn’t want a fake relationship with me, he didn’t just want the girl who comforted him in the middle of the night when he was scared. He wanted me. “Can… Can we go inside, please?” I quaked. “Can we go inside and talk about this? Just… sit down and talk about everything?” “Fuck, Ren… I don’t want you to think I’m trying to rush you. I’m not trying to rush you, fuck. I just want… fuck.” “You’re not rushing me.” I moved my hand, lacing my fingers through the hair on the back of his head. “It’s fine. Let’s… Let’s just go and talk.” He nodded, biting his bottom lip before he finally pulled away from me, distancing our lips once more, and I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about it. I smashed my head back against the wall, trying to find the stamina to move and follow him as he made his way towards the door to my flat, running his hand through his hair. I stayed in my spot and watched him, clearly trying to soothe his racing mind, rolling his shoulders before he reached out for my door handle. “Ren, you didn’t fucking lock it again.” He managed to chuckle. That made me laugh too, finally feeling normal enough to distance from the wall and walk the small distance down towards him. “Woops.” I giggled. “You’re such-” I watched his face drop as soon as he pushed the door fully open, standing on the outside and looking into my flat with dead eyes. I stopped myself still, just seeing his reaction. “What’s wrong?” I gasped. “Ren… I… Fuck.” I quickly ran to his side, panicked as I approached him and turned, looking into my flat in the same way he was. It wasn’t hard to miss what had made him react that way. It was easier to see how trashed the place was at first, how things were strewn all over the hall, my TV shattered on the floor beside my door. I took a step inside, slowly turning to look into my living room. That’s when it became clear that most of my possessions, the ones that were easy enough to carry, were missing. That’s when it became clear that my complete ineptness had resulted in my flat being burgled.

[dulcetdelrey-blog]

Sunday’s Book Girl

Summary:You, being a lover of books, go to the quaint little bookstore you have gone to most Sundays of your life. It’s a place of comfort for you as you seek refuge in the pages of a book or two.However, this time it’s different when the last thing you expect is to bump into a gorgeous guy by the name of Jeon Jeongguk 

Characters: Jeongguk x Reader

Word Count: 2256

Genre: Fluff and Angst (?)

Just a quick little disclaimer that this was one of the first bts stories I ever wrote so please be kind.

 How odd to think it so, that love could sprout from a pile of books…

           You walked down the cobblestone street. The faint tapping sound of your combat boots filling your ears. It had just stopped raining a moment ago, the sun slowly starting to peak through the fluff of the clouds. You always thought it odd that it could come out after such dreary type of weather. That musky scent that only came after it poured was very strong in the cool air. It was a scent you had come to love. The sidewalks were still damp and so you made sure you were extra careful where you stepped, being the klutz you unfortunately were. Your spirits were bright as your father had given you a little sum of money this morning. It was just enough for a book. This was such a small gesture, but you were grateful. After he had lost his job recently, your situation wasn’t currently the nicest and money was tight. Of course, you didn’t need more books. He was just glad that you had gotten that trait from your mother so he wholeheartedly supported your addiction. The book shelves in your room are already collapsing due to the habit of you forcing as much as you could in them. You quickly get dressed in your casual clothes and make your way to the bookstore like you normally do on Sundays. Going had become a special sort of tradition that isn’t intended to be broken anytime soon.

        You walk pass all of the pathways leading to those various little shops. You are convinced they could only exist in such small towns like this one. Perhaps they are the only good things here. The bookstore included. You walk and walk, enjoying the scenery when you finally stop at your destination. 

          In front of you is an ancient looking building. It is green and holds a certain charm. It is the town’s only bookstore and your second home. Your mother had brought you here with her since you were a little girl. A bag in hand, you fix your coat and open the French doors. The bell rings above you, signaling a new customer. The middle-aged man behind the massive counter greets you. His name is Johnny and you consider him family. He is the owner and has known your mother since she was young. “Hello, Y/N. The usual?” he asks you, stroking his small beard. “Umm…not today Johnny. Thank you. “You aren’t really in the mood for anything to drink at the moment. The perks of coming here your whole life are the unlimited, free drinks. “I’ll be up there if you need me,” you point to your usual spot on the second floor. He nods and smiles

           You ascend the windy, iron staircase into your own slice of heaven. It’s crazy how you know almost every book lined up on these walls, every crevice by memory. Your fingers smoothly glide over the spines and pages of the books. If someone was to ask you what or where your happy place is, it is here without a doubt. Here you have a paradise of words to save you from a life that hasn’t seemed to be meant as a fairy tale. The gigantic oak shelves promise to keep you for hours if you let them, and you do. You are always wondering what attracts you here after all these years. It takes you some time to realize that it is because it reminds you of her. Her memories are still here even when she isn’t. If you close your eyes for a little bit, you can hear the mad giggle of a little girl as her mother chases her through the aisles with anger and amusement. The little girl is so lovely, and you. It slowly fades and then it is gone, taking the warmth with it. 

            You are aware that you are strange for a sixteen year-old girl in the way that you prefer your books and make believe stories to people. It will hurt less. Yes, maybe deep down you are also scared to live life to its full potential. Denying yourself, thinking that something else would go wrong. You are the type to keep to themselves and if it wasn’t for your best friend Justine, who is the opposite, you would have closed off a long time ago. While others your age are going to parties and caving into their temptations, you are here. In your mind, you think it is better to overdose over books rather than drugs or alcohol any day.  Justine hates libraries so you most often go alone, not wanting to torture her. You would have dragged her here today if you knew what was going to happen next.

           You are mindlessly scanning the aisles, a pile of books in your hand as you bite your lip in concentration. It is a habit you had developed not too long ago. You are about to turn around when you crash into a boy. Other people are staring. As if this can’t get any worse. The books come toppling to the ground. You mentally curse yourself as you immediately drop to your knees, trying to pick all of them up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even see you there…” you mumble. “It’s fine. Here let me help you.” He laughs and crouches next to you helping you with the last of the fallen ones. He has beautiful hands and you immediately look up to see his face inches from yours. My oh my, what a gorgeous face it is. Time seems to stand still as he looks into your eyes with his deep, brown ones. You both stand up.  “I’m Jeongguk. Jeon Jeongguk.” he states with a grin. Out of all the times, your mouth has to get dry in this very moment. You pause and try to regain your thoughts. He is obviously waiting for an answer. “I’m Y/N.” you state quietly, your earlier confidence gone. “Beautiful name,” his voice filling with sincerity. His eyes never leaving your face.

             Somehow, you end up walking with him through the tiny aisles. This allows you to finally take in his appearance. Jeongguk is a good head taller than you. His raven black hair is slightly disheveled and his lips are rosy. His cream colored skin sticks out from his basic, black t-shirt. He wears skinny, leather pants that are quite snug on him. Maybe too snug because it sparks your curiosity. You blush at the thought. Every time he smiles, his little bunny teeth can be seen. It makes his smile even more dazzling. He’s wearing white, high top converse.  

             It is noticeable of how out of place he looks. His dark clothes are a great contrast to his surroundings. He would be a better fit at a club somewhere. He looks like a dashing character from a book. One made entirely of your own imagination. The whole situation has you tense because you aren’t used to guys like him talking to a girl like you. No, his type left your type of girls for the air headed ones who were nothing but self-centered. You prided yourself in thinking they didn’t deserve your time in return. The guy in front of you seems different though and you have no clue he is thinking the same of you. He mentions how he is only here because of his friends, Namjoon and Taehyung, who were the “bookworms.” You couldn’t have been more right when you had thought that he wasn’t here by choice.

            You notice two guys walking towards you and guess that that is them. They stand in front of you with friendly smiles on their faces. You introduce yourselves. Taehyung is on the left and Namjoon is on the right, facing you. Why do he and all of his friends just have to be attractive? Is it like some unspoken rule? Because that’s how it just always seems to be. At least to you it does. “We have to go, Jeongguk. It was very nice meeting you, Y/N.” Namjoon gives you a very friendly smile that could be mistaken for something else. Jeongguk gives him a look you have seen too many times before. It screams ‘back off’. He then turns to you. Yep, this guy definitely seems like the jealous type. “Promise I’ll see you here again. I won’t take no for an answer.” You hesitate and are a little surprised at his sudden forwardness. It made the butterflies in your stomach go into a whirlwind. This time it’s Taehyung who speaks up. “Finally you have a reason to come here without complaining. Yah, leave the poor girl alone already, Kookie.” What a funny, but cute nickname. “Please shut up, Tae.” Jeongguk responds irritably. “I promise,” you quickly add before he smiles at you for the millionth time that hour or day. Who is really counting? Not you. And then they are dragging him away. Leaving you with your jumble of emotions as you watch them leave into the night air.

           That night you go home on a cloud and you don’t remember ever coming off of it. That night and each one after that would be filled with thoughts of him. They make you even more excited for the weekends ahead. You aren’t dumb and you know what type of boy he really is. They are the ones who promise you pain and a broken heart as they leave you behind. Never helping you pick up the pieces in the end. He is dangerous, but you choose to not acknowledge the warning signs that pop up at every corner in your mind. You are so close to feeling nothing again and something told you he will make you feel it all, if you are willing.

            Nonetheless, he comes that Sunday with a stack of books. When you notice they are the classics, you raise your eyebrow and look at him. “I didn’t think you liked to read.”  “Um yeah…but if I don’t, Namjoon gets on my case for it. Of course, you can change that,” he challenges with a smirk. “And how do I do that? “You are a little scared at what he has in mind. “Well, you could read to me?” he slowly suggests. You didn’t exactly expect that, but it is no less terrifying. You hate reading in front of people, especially ones that look like him. It is a really, super weird request. Your look must say it all because then his expression too changes. “I’m sorry. It’s kind of a weird...thing to ask so-so you don’t have to if you don’t want too...” he grabs the back of his neck in nervousness. This time it is his turn to blush. “No, it’s fine. I can read this one first. It’s one of my favorites.” You pick up Pride and Prejudice and begin to read. It takes all of your courage to do so

           It is hard to concentrate at first, with his strong gaze on you, but you eventually get used to it. He is utterly fascinated with you. He takes every opportunity he can get to drink in the sight of you under the dim light of the little lamp when you two stayed until it was dark outside. You look like a delicate angel, the same one who has bewitched him. Every word, every sentence you read puts him deeper under some sort of spell. This becomes a sort of routine for the both of you. You order the drinks. He likes his coffee and you your tea. It isn’t long before Jeongguk makes the effort of getting to know the real you each time you meet.

           You secretly are in awe of him. It is enough to bring down the walls you have unconsciously built around yourself. No other guy has ever cared to read beyond the first chapter of your life without deciding it just isn’t for them. He did. You open up your mind for him as well as you heart, to read them freely. He reads in between the lines, never skipping, desperate for more on the girl in front of him. With the little hints given, he has learned of your mom who had passed away when you were younger and how you love animals. You hate the pizza crust and sports or how you love the smell of rain and would rather stay in on the weekends than go to a party. He learns of your insecurities and darkest thoughts. It is these that make him fall in love with you. It is how opposite you two are that attracted him. You both learn of each other’s dreams and aspirations. You talk for hours on end. He can make you laugh and make you forget the tribulations in your life, just for a little while. You ramble and he did about how he wants to become a tattoo artist and you a worker in a publishing house. You want to get out of this dead end town as much as he does. To see what this big world has to offer.

           One Sunday, you are reading when you look up to see his gaze already on you. A look of curiosity crossing his features as he tilts his head in thought. “What’s wrong, Kookie?” you asked him concerned. He had recently told to call him by his nickname. It was still so foreign on your tongue. “You’re too vibrant to be stuck in a place like this, Y/N. To be surrounded old books and dust. You deserve better. Let me show you what the world out that window has to offer.” With his hands, he dramatically gestures towards the large window. You roll your eyes and try to suppress a giggle. A light seemed to flicker in the back of his eyes accompanied by his mischievous grin                         

          It is the certainty in his voice and look that will make you remember those exact words and trust him. You repeat them like a motto, something to live by. They reassure you in times when you are scared to do something you want the most. He stands by his statement because pretty soon you will taste the first sips of beer and the adrenaline of sneaking out to look at the stars on a grassy field as Jeongguk kisses you for the time. His taste of mint and something sweet wouldn’t leave your mouth until the morning. He is always gentle, making sure not to scare you off before he gets the chance to love you properly. You need it.He leaves special little, cheesy notes in your books asking you to go on dates with him and such. This romantic side and notions of his surprise you, considering how wild and reckless he is. For the first time, you wonder how many other secrets he had. It is a mission you have given yourself to uncover them all. After all, mystery books are always your favorite….

           And so the tale goes of a wild boy who had knocked down the walls of a girl who was too scared to live beyond the covers of a book. He had written his own words of love with ink on her heart. They were there for her to come back to when she had grown out of fantasy stories…because now she had her own.            

[lifeasitis21]

Ivory Black

Pairing: Pietro x Reader

Summary: The reader meets an unlikely stranger.

A/N: This is my newest fic to date! (May 2017) And I’m so excited for you to read it! Enjoy and as always, feedback is welcome!

“This could be crazy, but...”

   The words ran through your head on repeat. You could still remember the crinkle in his brow and the way his lip pulled slightly. Nothing safe ever in history followed those words but you still took his hand anyway. 

Had it even been 4 hours since you met? Your head spun ever so slightly from the alcohol but it was the perfect buzz. Just enough to give you the courage to leave the bar with him, and god are you glad you did.

You’d been at the bar with a few friends but a few drinks in and two of them were already failing to comfort Paul, who’d had just enough to remember his recent breakup. You tried your hand at helping him move on earlier in the week but now you sat at the bar at a loss. You figured it wouldn’t be long until someone called him a cab, but you didn’t mind drinking alone. 

15 minutes of silent sobbing later and he was on his way out with both friends on his arm.

“See you tomorrow. Call if you need me.” You sent a soft smile his way that he returned to the best of his ability. 

Now that you were alone at the end of the bar with a drink half full you saw two decisions before you. Either order a few more until you have to call a cab for yourself, or wait patiently for the next brave soul to buy them for you.

You sided with the second, accepting that you would regret waking up with a hangover and short of cash.

You surveyed the room waiting for someone to catch your eye when you landed on a man who you noticed walk in around the same time as you did an hour earlier. He sat by himself, eyes cast down at the drink in his hand. He didn’t look  troubled, just content, like you were. You waited to see if he would “accidentally” catch you watching him but he didn’t make it so easy. 

You moved on just as a man approached from behind you. He leaned both arms down on to the bar beside you and ordered himself a drink. Bravely looking over at you he motioned towards your drink. “..and, whatever she’s having.” 

You looked up and began the routine: Smile. Don’t forget the eyes. Convincing laugh. “Oh, thank you! So sweet of you.”

He looked down with his trade marked Gosling-eyes and leaned closer to you. “Anything for you beautiful. I’m Brent.” (maybe. you weren’t paying much attention) “...it’s just, amazing, to meet someone like you.” 

Someone like you...he had never layed eyes on you before tonight, what could ‘someone like you’ possibly mean? 

The conversation you preferred and honestly expected began shortly after his lavish introduction. You know, the one where he does all the talking for the both of you, even while somehow asking you questions he wouldn’t know the answer to.

“...are you from here? You have to be. I mean I’ve been to this bar a few times it’s probably one of my favorites but it’s not like thee bar. You know? Like, I feel like people just visiting would ask Siri like ‘Best bar in New York’ and this wouldn’t be one to come up right away you know? It’s like low key but it’s still totally amazing. Somewhere for true Yorkers right...”

He really liked that word. Your eyes feigned interest as they wandered his face. He was cute, probably, but on this occasion you were truly just in it for the drink.

Knowing he most likely wouldn’t notice, you pulled out your phone and went into the ‘Sound’ section of your settings. The default ringtone rang out just loud enough to pull him from his monologue.

“Oh! I should really take this, it’s work.” (at 11:34 on a Saturday night.) You weren’t worried he would notice, and he didn’t.

“Of course! I’ll be here next Friday again! Lets meet up.”

You tightly smiled and put your phone to your ear as you headed towards the door. 

As soon as you were out you slid your phone into your bag and started towards your apartment. You were a little over half a mile away but you didn’t mind walking. There was a small crowd outside the bar and as you maneuvered through them a hand gently grabbed your forearm. You quickly turned expecting Brad (maybe) but it was far from him. 

“Maybe this is a bad move on my part but I didn’t have very many options left.” He looked down at you with midnight blue eyes, and seemingly waited for you to respond, so you did.

“Okay. Are you talking about something specifically or...”

He laughed shortly and gathered himself. “Yes, and no. As weird as this sounds, I saw you at the bar and meant to approach you but your friend beat me to it.” 

“Oh, you mean Brian.” You smiled and he mirrored you. “Well he wasn’t really a friend, and if you're offering to buy me a drink I have to decline. I’ve hit my limit...”

His smile faltered slightly before you continued. “...but, if you’re offering to walk me home, then the answer is yes. I’m Y/n.”

His eyes seemed to swallow you up, when you realized they were the same eyes that stared down a drink in the corner.

He reached out and took your hand in his.“I’m Pietro. It’s nice to meet you Y/n.” 

You only now noticed his slight accent, but you didn’t recognize it. Not your favorite conversation starter, but you were intrigued. Before you even asked the question he seemed to know what you were going to say. 

“I’m from a place called Sokovia. I’ve been here in the city for a few years now though. I have to assume though, that you are also from here.” 

You looked up in question.

“I mean, I've only ever seen locals in that bar.” He knowingly smiled and you burst in laughter.

“So you heard that?”

“I’m pretty sure the entire bar heard Ben’s life story.” 

You’d been walking for a few blocks and only now noticed he still had your hand. You didn’t pull it away. 

The conversation grew more comfortable with every block. It ranged from jobs, to childhood, to favorite restaurants with ease; like you knew each others answers before they were spoken. 

Every step closer to your apartment felt like one more weight added to your shoulders. The connection felt natural and ending it was the last thing you wanted. 

“How much farther is it?” He asked. His voice told you he was hoping it was miles away and you smiled.

“It’s a block up.”

Without a complaint he continued to walk but you took note when his pace slowed ever so slightly. 

You could see your door now but this was life, and all your life you’d told yourself to just live it, so that’s what you were going to do. 

The two of you walked hand in hand right up to your door, and then you continued to walk. You could feel his eyes on you as you passed the door and you just smiled.

“You know how I told you I work part time at that book store on 5th?”

“I do.” He said, interest in his voice.

“Well I have keys, coffee in the back room, and I also have that book you mentioned wanting to finally read.” 

“Well, to the bookstore then.” He laughed as you excitedly pulled him faster.

The store was a 10 minute walk from your apartment but time flew by as the two of you talked about any and everything.

Even though it was the middle of June, a chill ran down your back as you opened the door to the bookstore.

It was one of those stores with frayed book covers and that slightly old book smell. It made you feel at home when you walked in which is why you jumped at the opportunity to work there for the summer.

“Make yourself comfortable.” You smiled as you made your way to the backroom to start the coffee you’d promised. The steam from the machine filled the room with a beautiful aroma. 

Instantly you were warm again and missing Pietro’s presence. The close proximity of the bookshelves to one another made the store cozy but useful. There was never a time when a customer didn’t find what they were looking for.

You saw Pietro pass by at the end of one of the aisles for just a second before he was gone again.

“You were right Y/n. It’s beautiful.” His voice bounced off the walls, making it seem like he was all around you. 

“I’m glad you like it. ‘A store for all your book-centered needs.’”

He chuckled at that. “That’s good. I like that.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“His was a great sin...” He began.

You could hear his light steps as he approached you. He came around the corner and rested his shoulder against the nearest shelf. “...’His was a great sin who first invented consciousness. Let us lose it for a few hours.’ Fitzgerald said that.”

You took a few steps towards him and waited for him to explain.

“It sounds so profound. Almost like he’s begging for those around him to forget themselves for awhile; like he’s waiting for that person who will willing lose themselves with him. Forget everything but each other.” His words flowed like velvet. Only now did you notice the way his eyes fluttered from your eyes down to your lips. Not lustfully but almost as if he was watching as an invisible artist sculpted a masterpiece.

“..All of those interpretations are possible, but it’s most likely he was talking about sleep. Which I can still relate to.”

“Insightful.” You said with a smirk.

He took cautioned steps towards you, eyes still fluttering. Just as he reached you his eyes drifted behind you and he took a deep breath. “Is that coffee?”

He looked back at you and without missing a beat you turned and lead him to the office. “Right this way for the best coffee you’ve ever had in your entire life.”

With steaming cups in hand Pietro now lead the way to one of the reading nooks towards the back of the store. this particular one was on the second floor  next to a window.

“Oh this is just, too romantic right? Are we supposed to fall in love in that window seal? I mean come on.”

You burst into laughter and took a seat on the bench. It was big enough to fit the both of you comfortably but he took the chair next to the window and turned it towards you.

“You wouldn’t believe how many couples I find back here just going at it. It gets way intense.”

His eyes went wide. “Wait, really?” 

You kept a straight face for a few beats, “No. it’s a bookstore. Our demographic is single, 20 to 35 year olds and then 60 and above.”

“That sounds perfect though.” Pietro chimed in. “No one comes in to waste your time which must be nice. And it’s guaranteed to always be quiet no matter the time of day, which, how can you turn that down?”

Time drifted on with conversation until your cups were nearly empty. The most recent topic was astrology which had Pietro next to you on the bench while you looked up at the visible stars. He went on about his sign and its correlating constellation and then almost lost his mind when he found out the two of you matched up for ‘deepest connections’ according to a book he’d read once.

A comfortable silence spread between the two of you. You barely noticed when stood up but when you did you stood as well. 

“I guess it’s getting late isn’t it.” 

You thought this was it but he looked down at you with something else in his eyes. 

“Would you like to go somewhere with me?” he asked vaguely.

“Somewhere like where?”

Excitement bubbled up inside you as he placed his hand at your waist gently. 

“This could be crazy. in fact, I know it is, but I’m expected in Florence the day after tomorrow for business--”

“Pietro I--”

“I want you to come with me Y/n.”

You were almost speechless. “Wait, Pietro--I mean--I don’t even know what to say.”

His eyes lit up. “Say you’ll come.”

You could barely comprehend what was happening; it all felt like a dream, but you never woke up.

Hours later you were sat next to him on a jet with the word Stark across the side of it. When you questioned the legality of it all his only response was “He’s a friend. He won't mind.”

You watched the clouds sail by below you as your hand rested comfortably in his. He pulled it up to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the back. You looked over and watched as his eyes fluttered closed in content.

“This is absolutely crazy.”

He glanced up when you spoke and locked eyes with you. “What are the odds I would meet you today, and that you would say yes to this?”

“It was very unlikely. It almost seems like fate.” You laughed and he ran his thumb over your hand.

“What are the odds of me kissing you right now?”

In this moment you wanted nothing more than to forget everything, and lose yourself with him.

“Now that seems far more likely.” 

[finn-nelson-for-the-win]

Changing Priority- Chapter 14

So I meant to post this yesterday, that way I would spread posting 3 new chapters over the span of 3 days…but after work and whatnot yesterday, I was way too tired to edit and post this. So yeah…I hope you enjoy this chapter and as always, thanks for reading/reblogging/liking/following/etc. and just basically boosting my ego and inspiring me to keep writing and posting for you all.

Chapters 1-13 can all be found right here!

Unfamiliar Territory

 Rae had spent all of Friday after she got off work trying to recover from her hangover and catch up on sleep, cleaning, and Netflix binge watching that she had been neglecting for the past week; however, this left Saturday as Rae’s only free day to run some necessary errands prior to the new semester of Uni beginning on Monday.

 After spending a couple hours tending to the plants in her garden on campus, Rae walked to the Campus Bookstore to purchase all of the necessary textbooks that she needed for the upcoming semester, at least according to her professors.

 Nine books…nine FUCKING BOOKS!?! ALL FOR ONE CLASS?

 “Ugh, you have to be shitting me…” Rae mumbled, earning a chuckle from one of the student workers at the bookstore that was restocking the books on a shelf a short distance from Rae.

 “Do you need help finding any of your books? I see you’ve amassed quite a collection already…” asked the short, lanky boy as he took a short break from placing books on the nearby shelf.

 “Uhm, yes, actually! This book right here, ‘Art Across Time: Volume B’…I know you guys have it brand new to purchase or rent, but do you have any used copies to purchase or rent? This one book costs more than I was planning to spend an all my books this semester, combined!” Rae replied incredulously.

 “Yikes, yeah, that book is a pricey one…unfortunately, if it isn’t on the shelves, we don’t have it. If you don’t wanna pay this much you might be able to find it online for cheaper, but I wouldn’t bet on it…”

 “Ah, I see…well, thank you anyways.” Rae said politely as she debated purchasing the book now or taking the risk of being unable to find it online.

 “Sorry I couldn’t really help, but let me know if you need any further help…”

 “Don’t worry about it and yeah, okay. Thank you!” Rae added, giving the worker a friendly smile, before deciding it best to get the textbook now regardless of the price.

 Rae walked out of the aisle of alphabetized books sorted by course titles AIS through ART and found an unattended counter to set down the growing pile of books she had been carrying to give her arms a rest before pulling her cell phone from her purse.

 Rae opened up her mobile banking app to ensure that she had enough money in her account to purchase all the textbooks she would be needing and gasped audibly when she noticed her account balance.

 Holy shit! It looks like the direct deposit from my tuition refund finally hit my account!

 Rae breathed a sigh of relief because her hard work the previous semester had paid off and she had not only received a high enough GPA to maintain her academic scholarship, but also to qualify for the tuition assistance her job offered. Between the two scholarships, Rae had more than enough money to cover all her expenses for this semester while still having a decent amount of money left over.

 Rae knew that it was already getting late and the bookstore would be closing soon, so she sighed and picked up the stack of books she was going to be purchasing before walking to the opposite side of the store.

 Well…so much for that tuition refund I got…

 Rae waited in line for the next available cashier to ring up her purchase and tried to mentally prepare herself to spend roughly three paychecks worth of money on a total of twelve textbooks.

 ***

 Rae had been putting off thinking about the current situation between her and Finn with some success over the past day and a half, but as she began the nearly hour long walk back to her apartment with her recently purchased textbooks, her thoughts began to wander.

 In a much more sober state of mind, Rae was not nearly as affected by what she had discovered while browsing Finn’s Instagram as she had been Thursday evening on the floor of Izzie’s kitchen, but she was still confused.

 As much as I love Izz and Archie, they’re too emotionally invested in Finn and me becoming a thing to give me a straight answer about all of the questions holding me back from making the first move with Finn.

 I need an unbiased opinion in the matter…

 As the sun continued setting, the chilly January evening air began to set in and Rae found that she was less than halfway to her apartment and her fingertips and the tip of her nose had nearly lost all feeling.

 I suppose I have nowhere else to be tonight, so I have some time to spare…

 Rae crossed the street a short distance up the road and walked towards the café that she had been frequenting for the past couple months. When she walked inside, she skipped the line that she would normally stand in and decided to grab a table and warm up a bit more before putting in her order.

 Shit! What if I see Eric the Barista today…will it be awkward?

 Rae pushed the thought to the back of her mind after a quick look toward the counter where the only employees she could see were a number of girls around Rae’s age and the man in his mid-forties that Rae has always assumed to be the owner or manager of the café.

 The warmth was slowly returning to Rae’s fingertips and rosy cheeks as she skimmed through the various required readings she had purchased or rented for all her classes. When Rae began to feel bad about loitering at the small table in the far corner of the café as she people-watched and took advantage of the coffee-scented warm atmosphere that had a vague familiarity to Rae, she decided that if she wanted to stay any longer, she needed to order something.

 Rae stood from the table and left all of her belongings behind to save her spot as she walked up to the counter with her credit card and cellphone in-hand.

 “Hello! Can I have a hot chai latte with soy milk?” Rae said to one of the female baristas behind the counter that she often saw when she came in before work most days.

 “Sure thing! For here, I’m assuming, since you have all your stuff over there, huh?” Rae chuckled and nodded as the barista entered Rae’s order into the machine in front of her, “And your name is…wait, I know it…don’t tell me…”

 “Rae!”

 “Seriously, Eric? I was just about to guess that!” the Barista jokingly complained as she wrote Rae’s name on the order.

 “Hey, Jessie, this drink is on me today…” Eric said to the barista that had taken Rae’s order as he walked up to the counter and gave Rae a toothy smile that made his simple steel lip ring stand out against his impossibly perfect, white teeth.

 “Ah, you’re too late, buddy!” Jessie replied as she handed Rae the receipt and her credit card back, “You’re all set, Rae. We’ll call your name at the other counter when your order is ready!”

 Rae thanked Jessie and gave Eric a small smile before walking back to her table in the far corner of the café.

 Almost as soon as Rae had sat back down and put her card back into her purse, she heard her phone buzz a few times against the table where she had set it down and she pressed the home button to unlock her phone.

Chloe: So guess who I just finished FaceTiming that is apparently much more up-to-date on the situation with your sexy coworker than me, your best friend for nearly a decade…

Chloe: No guesses?

Chloe: Abbie! I feel so out of the loop…is this punishment because my family went to Italy for Christmas and I couldn’t come visit you like we had considered back in August?

Rae: No, that’s not it at all. It’s just a lot to tell you about via text and I’ve been really busy with work lately. Plus, last I heard, you didn’t have internet access, so I didn’t know that FaceTiming or video chatting was an option for you.

Chloe: I was dying without internet and I felt so dead to the world, so I caved and paid a fucking insane amount of money to get wi-fi at our hotel for the rest of the week.

Chloe: We leave tomorrow, but maybe we can FaceTime tomorrow? Or once I’m back home if there’s a day we are both free? I want to know everything!

Rae: Yeah, I don’t know when I’ll be free since my classes start on Monday, but I’ll let you know.

Rae locked her phone and dropped it into her purse before sighing and covering her face with her hands.

 Chloe is probably the last person I want to discuss the whole situation with Finn with until I figure a few more things out.

 Rae was brought back from her thoughts by the sound of someone politely clearing their throat to get Rae’s attention. She lifted her head from where she had been resting on her hands to see Eric the Barista standing behind the chair opposite of her with her latte on a small plate in one hand and a small platter of various pastries in the other.

 “Oh! Were you calling my name? I didn’t even hear you, I’m so sorry…” Rae replied with an embarrassed smile as she removed her elbows from the small table to allow Eric to set down her drink.

 “Don’t worry about it! When I finished making your drink I saw that you were busy on your phone and I had a spare moment, so I decided to just bring your drink directly to you and greet you properly,” he replied with a shrug after setting her latte down before continuing, “I also wanted to drop these off for you…”

 Eric placed the small rectangular platter down on the table as well and Rae soon realized that the platter had a small slice of coffee cake, banana nut bread, and lemon poppy seed cake.

 “Oh, I didn’t order those…” Rae mumbled.

 Though they DO look really good…

 “I know, but I thought you seemed a little out of it today and thought you might like a little snack if you plan to stick around here sipping your latte for a while. I didn’t know what you liked, hence the variety, but they’re all fresh and I can assure you that they’re halfway decent!”

 “Thank you, Eric. That was really nice of you…completely unnecessary, but still nice,” Rae replied as she turned the plate to examine the different pastries, earning a chuckle and smile from Eric.

 “Eric, wait…” Rae found herself calling as Eric slowly turned to walk away from her table.

 What the fuck are you about to do, Rae…?

 Is this a good idea? Probably not. Will it make things any worse than they already are? Probably not…

 “Yes, Rae? Do you need anything else?” Eric asked, slipping back into customer service mode so fluidly it was clear to Rae that he had a lot of practice with this.

 “You mentioned that you had a spare moment…I don’t know if you had something else you needed to do or whatever, but uh…I could use the company, if you want to that is…these pastries are best when shared with a friend, right?”

 “I suppose I could stay and chat for a few minutes…” Eric said with a wide grin as he untied his apron and hung it over the back of the chair opposite Rae before taking a seat.

 “So Rae…if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were keeping tabs on me to ‘accidentally’ cross paths with me while I’m at work, since Saturday evenings aren’t your usual time for coffee…”

 “My ‘usual time’? Who is keeping tabs on who, now?” Eric laughed at how Rae had turned the tables on him, but she quickly continued, “I honestly didn’t even see you when I came in and then you just show up out of nowhere…”

 “Yeah, I actually spend most of my shifts in the back where the kitchen is. All these fresh baked pastries don’t bake themselves, you know!” Eric replied as he tore off a small piece of banana nut bread that Rae offered him on the plate and popped it into his mouth.

 “Huh, I never would have taken you for the baking type…they’re quite good though, so my compliments to the chef,” Rae added as she used a fork to cut off a small piece of the coffee cake and brought it into her mouth.

 “So how are you, Rae? Like I said earlier, you seem a little off…unless you frequently visit small coffee shops at night and sit with your head in your hands like you’re in the middle of a mental breakdown or an existential crisis..? Which if you do, that’s fine…I’ll only judge you a little bit…” Rae chuckled dryly because Eric was not far off from the truth, but his friendly tone seemed to be all the encouragement Rae needed to open up a bit more about what was on her mind.

 “Well I was walking past here and was really cold, so I came in to warm up. But you’re kind of right, I am a bit off, I suppose. I just have a lot on my mind and I’m trying to process everything but I’m not really making any progress.”

 “Would you care to elaborate at all, Rae? I’m a great listener, or so I’ve been told…”

 Rae looked up from her latte that she had been staring at for some time and saw Eric turned around slightly in his chair and having a silent conversation with Jessie from where she stood behind the counter.

 Less than a minute later, Jessie approached their shared table with a smug smile and placed a cup down in front of Eric before walking away.

 “I could feel a story coming on and I thought a cup of tea would pair nicely with whatever story you were about to tell me…” Eric relied when he noticed Rae’s look of confusion as he dropped the teabag into the cup of hot water to steep.

 “Ah, I see…well almost immediately before coming here I spent nearly a month’s rent on textbooks for the semester that starts on Monday at my Uni’s campus bookstore …which I’m not too thrilled about…”

 Eric nodded to show that he was still paying attention as he removed the teabag from his cup and took a cautious sip to avoid burning himself.

 “But mostly I’m just sort of…confused and maybe a bit…uhm, conflicted about something…”

 “About what?”

“Uh, about a boy…that I work with…”

“Ah, I see,” Eric replied as he took another sip of tea and tore off another small piece of banana nut break, “what is there to be confused or conflicted about?”

“Well I’ve been working with this guy for a few months now and I thought he was a total jerk at first, but slowly we became friends and I got to know him a bit…well long story short, I had a few friends insisting that he was flirting with me for a while before I even grew to like him and see him as more than just a coworker, but now I do like him…a lot…and I don’t know what to make of his feelings, since his actions have more or less remained unchanged and I am always getting mixed signals from this guy…”

 Rae had not intended to go into this much detail when telling Eric about everything that was on her mind, but as she sipped her chai latte and he drank his tea and they both nibbled on the pastries he had brought, the words kept coming and she told him almost every minute detail about the situation as Eric sat listening and reacting quietly when appropriate.

 “And so now there’s my childhood best mate, Chloe, the one I mentioned earlier…well, she wants to chat with me so I can fill her in on everything that is going on with my coworker and I don’t know what to say, you know? I obviously can’t say ‘oh he still flirts with me at work, but after I got shitfaced the other night I found him and his ex on Instagram and gave myself a panic attack because it seems like if he really liked me he would have made a move by now, since he’s had like two months to move on from his ex-girlfriend’ but I mean, that’s the truth…”

 Rae had run out of things to say and she sat in silence for a moment and took another sip of her drink that had cooled down a bit too much and was barely even warm at this point, but Rae was too distracted to notice or care.

 Eric sat in silence, nodding slightly as he drank the last bit of tea in his cup, processing everything that Rae had said and trying to gather his thoughts to say something.

 “Hmm…that’s quite a predicament you’re in, Rae…do you know what you’re planning to do or to tell her? Because it seems to me that before you can tell her what’s going on, it may be best for you to figure it out with yourself.”

 “I have no fucking clue what I should do at this point. This is all unfamiliar territory for me, Eric. I don’t really find myself being the object of men’s affections very often—if that’s even what this whole situation really is—so I’m still struggling to navigate my way through what everyone is telling me and how I feel.”

 “I find that very hard to believe, Rae, but okay…do you mind if I give you my input? A little bit of insight into the mind of a guy from the perspective of a guy…”

 “Not at all! Please, I’d greatly appreciate it actually, since I already know what everyone else I would talk to has to say about this whole thing.”

 “Well, I can’t speak for all guys, of course, but it seems to me like if he is stalling to avoid making the first move, it’s because he’s nervous that he’s going to screw it up. Based on everything you told me, I don’t doubt that this bloke is interested in you. But if he has been interested in you for a couple months now and it has mostly just been flirting, he’s probably in a similar position as you are and he’s trying to decide the best way to go about this that won’t backfire on him if you do not reciprocate his feelings…This coworker of yours seems kind of shy, so as a shy guy myself, I can tell you that it’s fucking nerve wracking when you finally decide to be more obvious with your flirting if you aren’t even sure that the person you’re flirting with will react well…” Eric looked away from Rae and began nervously examining his fingernails as he gently bit the inside of his bottom lip which made his lip ring wiggle in place slightly.

 “I suppose you could be right…it’s kind of reassuring to hear that someone like you who has never met my coworker and is not particularly biased is coming to the same conclusions as all my closest mates and coworkers. So clearly I’m not reading too much into things with him, right?”

 “Right! So if that is the case, he might need a little bit more confirmation from you that you are interested in him…I’m not saying that you need to make the first move or let him, uh, ‘whack it in you’ or, uhm, ‘explore your secret garden’ as some of your friends have suggested,” Eric began with an embarrassed chuckled before continuing, “but I think it could do both of you some good if you can both be more forward with your flirting just so you are both confident that the feelings are mutual.”

 “I think you’re right, Eric. Thank you for letting me vent and complain about the woes of my pathetic excuse of a love life to you.”

 “It’s been my pleasure, really. I really hope all this works out for you, Rae! I know it’s not my place to say this, but I just don’t want you to rush into anything you’re not ready for and I don’t want you to regret not doing anything, so I’d say just take your time figuring things out but let the pieces fall as they will and try not to force anything…If it’s meant to be, then it will be.” Eric gave Rae a smile and stood from his chair before putting his apron back on.

 Rae suddenly realized how long they had been talking for when she saw that the majority of the patrons who had filled the café before had left and they were down to a very small crew of employees who were mostly just talking behind the counter, since there were no new to customers to attend to at the moment.

 “I’m so sorry for keeping you so long! I hope you don’t get in trouble for taking such a long break instead of working!” Rae said with concern as Eric stacked the plates and cups they were now finished with for him to take away from the table.

 “In all honesty, I wasn’t even scheduled to work today, so I can’t imagine I’ll be in any trouble.”

 “If you aren’t supposed to be working, why are you here then?” Rae asked in confusion.

 “It’s kind of hard to say ‘no’ when your family owns the café…” Eric replied with a dramatic eye roll as he started walking away.

 Eric was a short distance from Rae’s table when he slowed to a stop and turned around, a look of hesitation and inner conflict obvious on his face before it was replaced with the toothy smile Rae was used to seeing on his face when he was taking customers’ orders.

 “I’m really glad I got to see you today, Rae. I hope everything works out how you want it to with your coworker, because I could tell how heavily the stress of all of that was weighing on you when you first got here. Be sure to come in and see me again sometime soon, okay Rae?” Eric gave Rae a quick wave with one hand before continuing his path towards the kitchen and disappearing behind a door.

 ***

 Sunday morning Rae had woken up in an unexpectedly good mood that she decided had to be attributed to her conversation with Eric the Barista the prior evening. Their discussion had given Rae a lot to consider, but more than anything, it had given her a new sense of clarity that certainly did not go unnoticed by her coworkers during her shift at work.

 “You certainly seem excited today, Rae. You do realize that the semester starts tomorrow, so what reason do you possibly have to be as happy as you are?” Archie asked with a joking scoff as he took a seat at the table Rae was sitting at in the break room.

 “Ugh, don’t remind me about classes starting. As it is, my bank account is still trying to recover from buying all the textbooks I’m going to need,” Rae said with a cringe.

 “If you truly must know, Archie, I am quite happy today I suppose…I just feel so at-ease with, well, everything.”

 Archie furrowed his eyebrows and gestured with his hand for Rae to continue, so she took a deep breath before continuing the conversation that she had known would be brought up at some point today.

 “So do you remember what I told you Friday at work about me drunk crying on Izzie’s kitchen floor on Thursday evening? Well, I basically gave myself a panic attack because I was overthinking the whole situation with…‘Alphonzo’…after I sort of stalked him and his ex-girlfriends’ Instagram pages…” Rae replied, trying to ignore Archie’s noticeable surprise as she casually told him more about her recent drunken antics.

 “So there’s that…and do you remember the guy from the café across the street that I mentioned had paid for my coffee and was flirting with me a bit…?”

 “Yes, I remember that too. I also remember the look of jealousy on Fi—Alphonzo’s face when you were talking about that, so if your goal was to make him jealous: mission accomplished! Seriously, he did not stop glancing over his shoulder at you for the rest of his shift on Friday and then—ugh, I really shouldn’t be telling you this, so you have to swear that you never heard it from me, okay?—and then yesterday he was asking me a bunch of questions about you and the barista you were talking about…”

 “Are you serious, right now? How did the even come up in conversation!? What kind of questions was he asking?” Rae asked slightly embarrassed that she had been a topic of conversation when she was not even at work.

 “Well someone else came in with a cup from the café and Peter and Melissa were chatting about what you had said and were wondering if ‘Rae’s not-so-secret admirer’ had been working or not and so he was asking me if I had ever seen the barista you were talking about, if I had ever gone to the café with you and seen you interact with this barista…If I thought you were interested in this barista more than you were letting on when you told the story…and he was asking me about whether or not I thought you liked how forward the barista was in terms of giving you free coffee and leaving a note on your coffee…stuff like that mostly. He was trying to be casual about it all, but I know him too well.” Archie replied with a self-satisfied smirk.

 “Wow…that’s kind of a great and crazy coincidence because yesterday evening I went to the café and I ended up talking to that barista, his name is Eric by the way, for like two hours…about Finn…”

 “Wait, so let me get this straight, Rae. You spent two hours last night talking and getting relationship advice about the bloke you like from a guy who two days prior gave you free coffee and flirted with you and professed his love for you in the form of a note on the side of your coffee cup…?”

 “Well, uh, sort of? I mean, he didn’t profess his love to me on my cup on Thursday! He just complimented me and told me how much his day is improved when he sees me come into the café…and…holy shit, I fucking friend-zoned this poor lad, didn’t I!?!”

 “It sort of seems like it, Rae. I mean this guy, Eric, clearly likes you enough that he wanted to give you free coffee and make sure that you knew how much he appreciates you coming into the café when he’s working…and then you pour your heart out to him about another guy…”

 “Aw, now I just feel like a terrible person, Arch! Eric was so supportive and he seemed happy for me because I was happy after talking it all through with him, but like, I’m pretty sure I would react the same way if I just got hardcore friend-zoned and wanted to play it cool…” Archie reached out a hand to pat Rae on the back to help soothe her as she continued, “Eric is like…really attractive, too! And he was so nice about everything and he didn’t even make the situation too weird or anything!”

 “That’s a good thing though, right? That Eric was able to put aside whatever feelings he may or may not have for you and give you genuine advice because he wants the best for you…”

 “Yeah, it was so nice getting the opinion of a guy on the whole situation with Finn…”

 “Uhm, excuse me? What am I if not a guy? A potato!”

 “That’s not what I meant, Arch, and you know it. I just meant a guy that wasn’t wrapped up in the whole situation and a close mutual friend of both people involved…”

 “I guess you have a fair point…” Archie said with a chuckle before realizing how much their conversation had veered off-topic, “Oh, so the reason you’re so happy today is…because you talked to your Barista Buddy and…?”

 “Oh, yeah! I talked to him about the whole situation and I feel like I have a good idea of what I need to do and how I can show ‘Alphonzo’ that I’m interested without putting myself out there too much and then at some point one of us will have to take the chance and make the first move, but I’m not as freaked out about all of this as I was up to that point.”

 By this point, Rae and Archie’s break had already ended, but they had simply continued their conversation back at their desks in hushed whispers to avoid being overheard.

 “So what now?”

 “Well, I guess I just sit back, relax, and wait for—“

 “Finn! Hi, how’s it going?” Archie called in greeting before sharing a nervous smile with Rae.

 “Hey, Archie. How are you this morning, Rae? You look really nice…are you dressed up today for something, or someone, special?” Finn asked as he took a seat at the empty desk on Rae’s left side, opposite of Archie.

 “Hiya Finn! And thank you, but do I really seem like the kind of girl that would dress up and alter my appearance for the benefit of another person?” Rae scoffed, feigning that she was offended at his implications but smiled as she continued, “I’m just giving you a hard time, Finn…I dressed up for myself today, mostly. It just feels nice to get dressed up and look pretty from time to time, I guess!”

 Rae looked down at her outfit as she adjusted the sleeves of her cardigan and plucked off imaginary bits of fluff and debris. Rae had paired one of her favorite dresses that had a very short multi-toned blue flowy skirt and a pale denim bustier top with navy blue tights, a long gray cardigan that was nearly longer than the dress itself, and neutral taupe ankle boots with a small, chunky heel. Rae’s hair, which she had straightened earlier that morning, was beginning to re-curl itself because of the humidity of the chilly January air, but it appeared to be done intentionally leaving Rae’s hair in bouncy, gentle purple waves opposed to her usual mess of ringlets and spiraling waves. She completed her look with very simple makeup, focusing mainly on drawing attention to her eyes and naturally long eyelashes and completing the look with subtle berry-toned lipstick.

 Rae seldom looked in the mirror and felt completely happy with the image staring back; however, Rae felt happy and she could see a uniquely happy glow in her appearance that made her feel truly beautiful today and it felt nice to know that others were beginning to take notice of the change as well.

 ***

Monday morning Rae awoke earlier than she would have liked and began reluctantly getting ready before beginning her hour-long walk from her apartment to campus.

 After taking her first Computer Programming course last semester, Rae’s interest in programming and design had been piqued; however, after sitting through an hour long class this morning in which the professor introduced the Programming for Media Arts course Rae was enrolled in this semester, she had a sinking suspicion that she would likely grow to love or hate this course, but it was entirely too early to tell which.

 Rae walked out of the building and had to stop to allow her eyes to adjust to the bright gray light of this overcast January morning after sitting in almost complete darkness during her programming class.

 When the brightness was more bearable, Rae pulled her phone from her pocket and began to check the time when she could vaguely hear someone calling her name.

 “Rae! Rae-Rae!”

 She looked up to see someone on a bicycle riding towards her that was waving with both hands to get her attention from some ways away. It was not until this person on their bike got much closer and Rae could make out the tattoos on their arms that were peeking out from the sleeves of their jacket and the messy brown hair tousled by the wind that she realized who had been trying to get her attention.

 “Good morning, Finn!” She called when he was only a short distance away from her.

 “Hey Rae! I’m running late but I’ll talk to you later…” Finn replied without slowing his speed, calling over his shoulder and trailing off as he rode his bike further out of earshot of Rae.

 What time is it?   10:09 AM…

 This is great…Finn is already nearly 10 minutes late for his shift to work and yet he still makes a point to say “hi” when he sees me.

 Rae did not even try to wipe the smile off her face as she walked to grab a chai latte from a coffee shop on campus before walking to work.

 Since it was Monday, Rae’s scheduled shift did not begin until noon, but as she walked into the office building that she worked on and it was still a quarter to eleven, Rae decided that it was better for her to be early to work and take the extra time to work on assignments for one of her online courses using the Wi-Fi at work rather than risk being late to work if she went back to her apartment or remained on campus.

 As Rae sat in the break room at work, scrolling through social media on her phone after figuring out which of her online classes would require more immediate attention, Rae began regretting her decision not to grab something to eat before walking to work. Between work and the three hour long Business Marketing class Rae had later that afternoon, she quickly realized that she likely would not have a chance to eat until after she was done with her class that evening.

 Rae was debating buying a snack from the vending machine in the break room when she heard the quiet scraping of a chair next to her being pulled out from under the table where she sat.

 “Hey there, Chop!”

 “How’s it going, Raemundo?” Chop replied as he used a fork he had grabbed from the drawer in the break room to stir the Cup of Noodles he had just pulled from the microwave.

 “It’s going,” Rae said, chuckling as a rogue noodle dangled from Chop’s mouth as he took the first bite of his noodle soup, “how are you today? Did you have any classes yet?”

 “I’m good, thanks!” Chops said before stopping to get another mouthful of noodles, “And nope, no classes today, but I’ve been at work since 8am! Do you have classes today?”

 “Yeah, I had class earlier this morning. And I have a two hour shift at work starting at noon and then class again after that…This semester has me constantly running back and forth between classes and work,” Rae explained with an annoyed eye roll.

 “That’s awful, Rae! I’m so sorry!”

 “It is what it is…”

 “It looks pretty cloudy outside today, I wonder if it’s going to rain,” Chop mused when there was a lull in the conversation as he looked out the window to the parking lot for their office.

 “I hope not! I’m walking back to campus after work,” Rae replied with a small frown after she looked outside the window as well and was fairly certain that it would begin raining within the hour.

 “Well, I can give you a ride! You said you’re working a two hour shift? We get off work at the same time!”

 “Thank you, Chop, but no thank you. You’re done for the day after this and I’d hate to put you out and make you go out of your way just to give me a ride to campus. I don’t think it’ll rain, or if it does, I’m sure it won’t be so much that I can’t walk the twenty minutes or so back to campus.”

 As if right on cue, mere moments after Rae decline Chop’s offer, a sudden boom of thunder followed by a downpour of rain began, making both Rae and Chop jump slightly out of surprise before chuckling at the irony of it all.

 “Uh, I’m sure the rain will stop soon…” Rae mumbled, not even fully believing her own words.

 “It’s no trouble, really. Finn and I live less than a mile from campus, so it’s not even going out of my way, honestly! Just let me know, okay? But if it is still raining after work, I will not take ‘no’ for an answer, Rae! I will be driving you to your next class because I simply cannot have my Raemundo walking in the rain!” Chop said as he pointed a finger at Rae, adding emphasis to the point he was trying to make.

 “Fine, but I’ll let you know if anything changes.” Rae replied as Chop threw away the empty Cup of Noodles container and waved goodbye to Rae before exiting the break room to get back to work.

Rae was still looking out the window at the rain pouring down and collecting in puddles that would undoubtedly flood the parking lot by the time the rain began to let up—if it let up—when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her from behind in a surprise hug.

 “Guess who…” Rae heard this person sing-song and Rae instantly smiled when she realized who it was.

 “Hmm…whoever could it be?” Rae replied with a chuckle as she turned her torso slightly to return the hug Rebecca was giving her.

“Are you on break or are you just coming in at noon?” Rebecca asked as she pulled out the chair Chop previous occupied and took a seat beside Rae.

 “I start at noon, but I’m only working for a couple hours”

 “Yay, we get off work at the same time! That’s perfect!” Rebecca exclaimed, nearly bouncing out of her chair with excitement.

 “Uh, what’s perfect?” Rae asked as she quirked an eye brow up in confusion.

 “I was just realizing how hungry I am and I don’t know if you have class immediately after work or not, but if you don’t…Will you do me the honor of being my lunch date today?”

 “I’d love to!” Rae said with a smile.

 “Splendid! I have to get back to work right now, but I’ll be waiting for you out here in the break room after work and we can go from here!”

 Rae waved goodbye to Rebecca and continued scrolling through social media on her phone until it was close enough to noon that she could justify logging into her computer and getting to work.

 Rae switched her cell phone to silent and walked into the main office area. After scanning her badge at the small machine on the wall, Rae began walking towards the closest open desk when she was very nearly knocked to the ground by someone who had hurriedly stood from their chair and began walking without watching where they were going.

 “Oh shit, my bad, girl! Are you alright?” Finn asked as he placed a hand on each of Rae’s shoulders to steady her after he had inadvertently collided with her.

 “Yeah, all good, Finn!” Rae replied with an embarrassed chuckle.

 “Phew, that’s a relief…I saw you today when I was riding my bike through the middle of campus on my way to work!”

 “I know. I saw you too,” Rae began with a small chuckle, “and said I ‘hi’…and then you said ‘hi’ and that you were running late and would talk to me later”

“Yeah, you didn’t seem to recognize me when I was first trying to catch your attention, so I was almost afraid that you weren’t really you or something!”

 “Nope, it was me, I was just distracted and when you were riding you bike I didn’t recognize you until you got a bit closer,” Rae chuckled nervously as Finn dropped his hands—which she just realized had been resting on her shoulders during their entire conversation—and gave her a quick smile before side-stepping to walk past her.

 Rae noticed that the desk beside Chop was empty, so she set her badge down on the desk and pulled out the chair to take a seat.

 “Long time no see, baby girl!” Chop called, giving Rae a wink as she began logging into her computer and Finn returned to his desk on the opposite side of Chop.

 “I know! I haven’t seen you in so long…how are you?” Rae replied catching on to the joke immediately.

 “I’m good thanks…not much has changed in the last, oh, twenty minutes,” Chop replied with a laugh.

 During this short exchange, Finn kept looking from Chop to Rae in confusion as he waited for them to explain what inside joke he was being left out of before finally Chop clarified.

 “Our Raemundo here was sitting in the break room before her shift and so I sat with her during my break and we were chatting a bit,”

 “Ah, I see.” Finn replied with a nod as he returned to work, only slightly averting his attention away from Chop and Rae’s conversation.

 “Which reminds me! While I appreciate the offer, Chop,” Rae began after quickly glancing over at Chop as she continued checking her email, “I made plans for lunch as soon as I get off work and they can give me a ride back to campus when we’re done. So I won’t be needing a ride after work. Thank you for offering though, Chop. That was really considerate of you!”

 “You, uh, you offered to give Rae a ride home from work today?” Finn asked unable to hide that he had been tuned into their conversation.

 “Well not home, because she has a class after her shift, but yeah! It started to rain really hard during my break and she and I get off work at the same so I just figured…”

 “Oh, no, that makes sense. That was nice of you Chop…The offer stands for me too, Girl. If you ever want me to give you a ride somewhere after work, just let me know!” Finn replied after quickly regaining his composure and shooting her a crooked grin.

 “Uhm, a ride on your bicycle?” Rae asked, raising her eye brows and unsuccessfully containing a smile.

 “No, of course not,” Finn mumbled as a blush spread across his cheeks, “I do have a car…I just didn’t want to drive my car and have to find parking if I only worked for a couple hours today…”

 “No need to justify yourself to me, Finn. I was just having a little fun with you,” Rae replied with a smirk which only caused Finn to blush a deeper shade of red and seem more embarrassed as he nervously bit his lower lip, “I appreciate the offer nonetheless and I’ll be sure to keep it in mind, thanks!”

 The clocks on the wall chimed, signaling that it was officially noon, and Finn stood from his desk chair and began walking toward the exit, turning back to give Chop a nod and Rae a wave and small smile before walking out of the building.

@eveerez @tinakegg @hey1tskat1e @bitchesbecrazy89 @kneekeyta @milllott @protectfinnnelson @arathewallflower @jackiewalsh2013 @pink-royaute @i-dream-of-emus @lurkernolonger @bitchy-broken @nutinanutshell @mallyallyandra @borntosik

A/N: Hello, my darlings! Okay, forreal though: what did you all think of how savagely Rae *accidentally* friend-zoned Eric the Barista by venting about all her boy troubles? (This was certainly not my proudest moment, I must admit...) 😅😬😅 Do you still think Eric poses any threat to Finn's chances with Rae after reading this chapter? 🤔 I know some of you were probably worried about that possibility after I introduced him into the story in Chapter 12...

The end is nigh (just kidding...sort of...) and there's only one more chapter to be posted this week, probably late tonight or early tomorrow morning. Big things are in the works and there's a lot of stuff happening both in this story line and in my real life, but yeah...this should be fun. 😅

I look forward to hearing what you all think of this chapter and the next one to come...14 chapters down, and 1 more to go (for now)...let's do this shit! 😁

[mitchellkuga]

Writing My Love Story at the Strand, New York’s Most Iconic Bookstore

Published by Condé Nast Traveler

A place where fantastical stories have the potential to come true.

When people find out I got married at The Strand Book Store, the typical response is “You got married in a bookstore?!” But the real shock is that I got married at all. Growing up in Hawaii, I never thought about marriage. Like boat shoes and taking IPAs very seriously, marriage was a thing for straight dudes. Plus I was low-key Buddhist, so what does “forever” mean anyway?

But one sleepless night, after four years of dating, Adam turned to me in bed. “I think we deserve the rights and protections that married people are afforded,” he said, looking me in my eyes. “I want to bury you.”

It was a proposal I couldn’t refuse.

Suddenly, we were tasked with planning a wedding, a life event most people are programmed to envision since childhood, and one that neither of us had previously considered. We waded through an infinite sea of scenarios, from a late-night function at a Brooklyn nightclub to a gazebo overlooking a Hawaiian waterfall. We were sure we wanted to spend our lives together. Far less clear was how we wanted to celebrate that decision.

After arguing about our different ideas, we toured the Strand’s rare book room. Located on the third floor, the handsome space sells limited-edition books by day, before transforming into an event space for book launches and private parties at night. On first glance, it managed to feel sacred but not pious, sentimental without being hokey, and utterly New York (aside from the fact that it was somehow reasonably priced). This is where we would get married, we decided, amongst friends and family and an $800 first edition of Ulysses.

Though gigantic—2.5 million books, both used and new, organized neatly across four sprawling floors—the Strand is still an independent, family-owned bookshop. It was founded in 1927 by a 25-year-old Lithuanian immigrant named Ben Bass, who borrowed $300 for a lease on a stretch of Fourth Avenue formerly known as “Book Row.” During the depression, he slept on a cot in the store’s basement. In 1957, Ben’s son moved the Strand to its current location, two blocks south of Union Square on the corner of 12th Street and Broadway. Of the 48 bookstores originally on Book Row, the Strand is the only one left standing. In the age of Amazon, its status as a literary cultural institution in the heart of New York City feels like a feat of magic.

So does finding love in this city, or planning a wedding for that matter. It’s not like there’s a template for a gay wedding in a bookstore between a Japanese writer from Hawaii and a Jewish artist from Toronto, a vastness that left us daunted, but also granted us permission to play. We mostly wanted to throw a party, one that reflected the contours of our relationship. So on the night of our fifth anniversary, in a room full of rare books, a friend sang Puccini’s “O mio babbino caro,” from the opera Gianni Schicchi; another read an original poem that referenced Michelle Branch lyrics, Corinthians, and Yoko Ono’s tweets; and another lip-synched Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You” in full-blown wedding drag, before DJing songs by The Pointer Sisters and TLC. We ditched a dress code, urging guests to come however they felt best, which meant I wore a second-hand Comme des Garçons jacket studded with black pom-poms and a white ginger lei. Dinner was a pile of pickled pineapple, spam musubi, dashi-soaked brisket, and a surprise 10:30 p.m. delivery from Williamsburg Pizza. Our friend Hector, a queer Buddhist with a Rubeus Hagrid-esque beard, officiated. Standing in front of an arch of balloons shaped like a chain, he started the ceremony by asking everyone to tie a red string around someone’s wrist, an imprint of a vow, both yours and ours. In other words, we all tied strands at the Strand. Everything feels fated, mutated into literary metaphor, if you think about it hard enough.

I first wandered into the Strand bookstore seven years before. I was 23, a recent transplant from Hawaii, aimless and alone. Like the glorious odor of a divey gay bar, I found the smell of the used books comforting. You know the one. Musky with notes of soil and discolored paper, fragrant with possibility.

After strolling, wide-eyed, from aisle to aisle—18 miles of books, as the slogan goes—I bought a copy of Michael Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. For the next month, I wrapped myself in the story of two Jewish cousins forging a creative life together in Boerum Hill, the small Brooklyn neighborhood where I happened to be crashing on a friend’s couch. I was thrilled to recognize the street names and guideposts that populated the book, a recognition that made this big new city feel a little bit smaller, and made forging my own creative life in Brooklyn feel a little more possible. As I struggled to piece together a life from that couch, I took the literary coincidence as a sign that I was exactly where I needed to be.

Throughout the years, the Strand became a rest stop, a meeting place, and a guiding light. It’s where I bought my grieving coworker The Year of Magical Thinking after her best friend died. Where I sourced Pema Chodron’s pocketbook during my Saturn return, cheered on friends at their book releases, and discovered queer writers like Jean Genet, James Baldwin, Eileen Myles, and Alexander Chee, who provided roadmaps in the dark. It’s where I purchased that emblem of New York bookishness, a Strand tote bag, which I see nearly every time I take the subway. There’s a reason those ubiquitous totes are such a popular souvenir for both locals and passersby—they are a comforting reminder that even the more improbable stories come true, even the ones about you.

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Illustration by Tomi Um