#went to the regular grocery store hoping to find the same but ALSO NO. my option was veggie burgers (not what I want even though they'regood | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

secretlittlerandezvous · 4 years

Text

A Day With The Benns - Jamie Benn

Summary: A look into the Benns household and a day spent with the family.

To the angel who requested this: From the bottom of my heart THANK YOU. I don't know who you are but I love you - for this request and for the beautiful words that came with it. It keeps making me feel like my heart will burst from happiness. I also thank you for giving me a reason to write about how I see my future life and what I hope for (this is basically me writing about my dream life) 💘🕊💫

Note: D/n means “daughter’s name”. The bedtime story is an excerpt from the book “Goodnight, hockey fans” by Andrew Larsen.

Words: 2487

“The truest, best love had nothing to do with luck. Luck was faithless, and worth little. True love wasn’t fancy, and it wasn’t magical, but simply true in every sense: honest, loyal and sure.” — Sonja Yoerg

It was that kind of a morning when you wake up and you know summer finally arrived. The sun was nicely warm and comforting unlike the stinging and cold winter sun, the birds were chirping in the trees from early in the morning and the air was fresh and warm. Y/n was woken up by the streaks of sunlight creeping into the bedroom through the window. She opened her eyes for a second and then closed them again and enjoyed the peace she felt which was quite unusual in the past few weeks. She didn’t hear a baby crying or the older kids running around the house wildly, she wasn’t woken up by them jumping on the bed to wake her up or by her husband leaving early for work. She loved her life and the chaos of it but it felt so nice to have a calm morning for once. After she fully enjoyed the silence, she opened her eyes, stretched her arms, and with a smile already present on her face she turned around to see her husband. Jamie had his back to her, but she certainly enjoyed the view at her husband’s muscular back and arms and she even blushed at the sight of him. But what warmed her heart, what couldn’t be beaten by his tattoos or muscles was the way he talked to their four months old baby girl. He had his arm protectively around her and Y/n found the contrast of his strong tattooed arm and her tiny little hand and fingers covered in a pink onesie absolutely adorable. He tickled her on her belly, and she smiled at him or watched him with her bright eyes with pure love. Y/n and the kids wished he could spend a little more time with them but they all understood why he couldn’t and whenever he was home he made the most of it and he dedicated his time to help his wife and to entertain the kids.

“Good morning my loves,” Y/n said happily as she looked over Jamie’s shoulder, kissed his cheek, and then smiled at their daughter who got even more excited when she noticed her.

“See? I told you mommy will wake up soon to give you a breakfast,” Jamie said to the little one. “Unfortunately, that’s the only thing I can’t do honey.” He said to Y/n and kissed her back.

“Not sure if anyone would want you to breastfeed babe,” she joked and took their daughter into her arms to feed her. “Are the kiddos awake?”

“Don’t think so,” Jamie mumbled. “I’ll go wake them up in a bit.” But first, he wanted to enjoy his wife’s company.

She was beautiful. He found her so beautiful. And he adored everything about her. Her kindness, the way she always loved him even though he could get a little grumpy sometimes. The way she handled everything with such ease. How smart she was. How supportive and understanding she was of him and his career. How she raised the kids, took care of them and their household on her own when he was away, and never used that against him. How good she was at her own job. How she created such a loving atmosphere in their family. Everything.

Jamie soon left to wake up the two older boys who even despite the complaints got out of the bed pretty quick and happily ran downstairs to help their dad in the kitchen. Y/n stayed behind a little to take care of D/n and to put herself together before she headed to the kitchen to join the rest of the pack. She heard laughter and giggles coming from there and she stopped and listened to the conversation they were having, she smiled to herself and enjoyed everything that was said.

Y/n often felt that she didn’t have enough time to pause and enjoy the present moment, but she was slowly learning to do so. The kids were growing up way too fast for her liking, life kept moving forward without a chance of it ever slowing down and she got sad at times when she realized how fast the kids will turn into adults. Y/n wanted to stay stuck in time, stay this old for a little longer and have the kids stay little longer, and have more time to process it all. But mostly she wanted a little more time off for Jamie who even though never said it out loud regretted not being there for them all the time. But they knew he loved them more than anything or anyone else in the world and that was enough.

“Can we go skating with you dad?” Their oldest son asked with hope, but he knew what answer was coming. He asked the same question, every morning when Jamie was home and about to go to practice. Each time the answer was no but he never gave up. The positive attitude towards everything and how he was never losing hope was Jamie’s favorite trait of their oldest son. It reminded him of Y/n.

“You know you can’t come with me buddy,” Jamie said with a sad voice. He hated saying no to him and he even wished he could bring the boys with him, but it was never convenient. “But I can ask the boys and we can go skating together on the weekend. What do you think?”

“I think we should hurry up,” Y/n joined the conversation, but no one heard her because the boys started screaming in excitement. She then sat down at the table and enjoyed the pancakes Jamie and the boys made for her and she helped their younger son with eating because he preferred to play with it rather than eating it. “Did you guys tell daddy where you’re going today?”

“No,” the older boy said. “We’re going to the zoo with the kindergarten.”

“And you wanted to miss the zoo to go skating? The zoo’s more fun for sure.” Jamie answered.

After the tasty breakfast, everyone headed to the bathroom to get ready for kindergarten and the day. Jamie helped them brush their teeth and hair, he even let them use a tiny little amount of his deodorant because both boys adored their dad and wanted to be just like him. It wasn’t rare for the boys to draw on their hands and pretend the drawings were real tattoos or them putting on Jamie’s hockey gear and playing hockey around the house. Y/n in the meantime prepared their outfits, soothed the crying baby, and managed to get dressed up without being disturbed.

“I’ll drop the kids at the kindergarten,” Jamie whispered as he wrapped his hands around Y/n’s waist from behind and hugged her tightly. “And I’ll try to get back home sooner than usual, and we can then do something fun.”

“Aren’t you amazing?” Y/n said happily, turning around to face Jamie, wrapping her hands around his neck, and kissing him before he got to answer. She expected a cocky answer from him, and she wanted to avoid it.

A few minutes later the whole family was outside their house, all of them about to head in different directions to different places. The boys were going to the kindergarten, Jamie to the arena and Y/n and D/n were going for a regular check-up at the doctor. “I love you boys,” said with a proud face and kissed all three boys goodbye.

“And we love you girls,” Jamie said, kissed Y/N and their daughter and the boys repeated after him before they all jumped into the car.

Later that day after Y/n returned home from the doctors and the grocery store, she cooked lunch for herself and then picked up the boys from the kindergarten. They then went for a walk around the neighborhood to put D/n to sleep in her stroller and the boys being the amazing brothers argued about who was gonna push the stroller. Y/n felt joy in her heart she couldn’t describe. She was simply proud of how loving the boys were.

When Jamie returned home, 2 hours earlier than usual, he expected to find his pack in the living room and he secretly hoped they would greet him, but the house was empty. He went to the living room and that’s when he finally found Y/n and the kids. They were in the garden enjoying the warm weather and the sunshine, eating some fruit, and playing with way too many things but they seemed to be enjoying. Jamie watched them from behind the glass door and adored Y/n once again. She was smiling widely, she glowed and looked even prettier than usual at that moment. She was showing D/n some flowers they probably picked in their garden and D/n was from what Jamie saw laughing at it. The boys were sitting on the blankets around the girls, their younger son was drawing something (and judging from the dozens of papers lying around it wasn’t his first artwork that day) and the older son was playing the puzzles while telling Y/n some exciting story. She listened carefully to every word and looked at the kids with so much love and adoration that Jamie wondered how he could get so lucky.

“Dad!” The younger boy screamed when Jamie came to the garden and both boys happily ran towards him to hug him.

“When you said you were gonna come home earlier I didn’t expect it would be this early,” Y/n said to Jamie as he sat down next to her. “But I’m not complaining. I missed you.”

“Missed you too love,” Jamie whispered as he leaned closer to kiss her and he then picked up D/n and took her in his arms to cuddle with her. Jamie was such a great dad and Y/n always knew he would be even though Jamie used to call himself a boy dad and say that he wouldn’t know what to do with a girl. But the moment they found out their next baby was going to be a girl he changed his mind completely and couldn’t wait to have a daughter. And from the second she was born she had him wrapped around her finger. “If you want you can go take a nap, I’ll stay there with the kids. I know you didn’t get much sleep.” Jamie offered.

At the first moment, she wanted to accept the offer and go to bed but when she looked around, she changed her mind. The sky was still blue, the sun was still shining, and the kids were having way too much fun and there was no way she was gonna miss this moment with her whole family. “I think I’ll stay right here.” She said with a smile.

The family stayed in the garden until the sun disappeared from the sky and just when the air got significantly colder, they all realized it was time to head home and have dinner. Neither one of them wanted to move because they were having so much fun but all of them were hungry and tired after a long day. The boys happily helped Y/n with dinner and although it took a little longer and the kitchen was a little messier than if Y/n did it on her own she enjoyed it as any other activity with her loves. Dinner was a favorite time of the day in the Benn family because it was usually the time when they all gathered and spent time together. For Y/n it was a time where she finally had everyone home and that was when she felt best even if it meant Jamie would leave for a game later. Jamie loved it because he was finally home with the ones most important to him and nothing could ever compare to the warmth of being home with his family. The kids loved dinner just as any other time they would get to eat but even they knew it meant they would most likely be all together.

“Dad? Can you read to us tonight?” One of the boys asked Jamie after the dinner.

“Of course!” Jamie answered with excitement. “Go brush your teeth and I’ll be there in a second okay?”

The boys listened and ran upstairs to their bathroom to brush their teeth and put on their pajamas and quickly jumped to bed and waited for Jamie. Jamie soon left Y/n alone in the living room so she could feed the baby in peace and went to the boys’ room.

“Alright, boys, ready?” Jamie asked the boys as he sat down with the book the boys picked. It was their favorite book about hockey that Jamie got them when they were younger and both Jamie and Y/n lost track of the number of times they read it to them. “A young boy doesn't want to go to bed. The hockey game is on! ‘What if I can't fall asleep?’ the boy says. ‘Don't worry,�� says his dad. ‘You will.’ After his parents have tucked him in and turned out the light, he shines a flashlight on his prized hockey possessions around his room: the posters of his favorite players, the pennant for his favorite team, the puck.” Jamie read. Not for too long though, the boys well asleep after a few minutes. “Good night boys,” Jamie said quietly as he left the room.

Y/n just finished putting D/n to sleep when Jamie walked into their bedroom. “That was quick,” Y/n noted.

“Told you I have a talent at putting the kids to sleep.” He said with a grin. “Abd good night to my little princess.” He whispered and kissed his little girl gently on her forehead before Y/n put her into her crib.

“You’re just lucky,” Y/n answered.

“I am,” Jamie said with a proud smile as he looked at his wife. He knew he was lucky. He hardly ever told this to his family, but he knew they knew he loved them more than anything. “And now I can finally focus purely on you.” He announced when he got out of the shower and went to Y/n.

“This was one of the nicest days in a while Jamie,” Y/n snuggled to Jamie and traced Jamie’s tattoos mindlessly. “Oh, and you better don’t forget to take the kids skating on the weekend. They were talking about it all day.” She laughed.

“I told the team and they all agreed to hang out,” he said. “And now give me a big kiss.” He said seriously.

“You’re horrible,” Y/n laughed before she kissed him. No matter how annoying and cocky he could get she loved him with all her heart.

#jamie benn #jamie benn imagine #jamie benn one shot #jamie benn writing #jamie benn imagines #dallas stars #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars writing #dallas stars one shot #dallas stars imagines #nhl players imagine #nhl imagine #nhl one shot #nhl writing #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey one shot #hockey writing #hockey imagines

182 notes · View notes

wormstacheangel · 4 years

Text

Smiles with a Christmas Kiss

Merry Christmas @professorerudite

Summary: Dean and Cas are left behind in the bunker on Christmas Eve. A regular movie day is planned but it slowly becomes a lot more.

It’s Christmas Eve and the bunker was quiet. It was just him and his best friend in this big place, their footsteps echoed the halls like no other time before. When it was just him and Sam the place always felt okay. It was home and it was nice but with Cas - finally human and finally staying - the place felt warm. It was a damn home again.

Jack followed Sam and Eileen on a holiday trip to Ireland. Of course, Dean had to refuse. Thinking of the long plane ride alone was making him feel sick. Though he insisted Cas should tag along with them - go see the world and all that jazz - he didn’t budge. Insisting he just wants to stay in the bunker.

Dean didn’t argue. It was nice not to be alone during the holiday season but at the same time, he hoped Cas didn’t stay behind just for him. Dean would have done what he always did for Christmas. Go to a bar full of lonely people and find someone, or someone’s, to have some fun holiday party on a motel bed.

Well, that’s what he would like to think he would have done, heck maybe a long time ago he would have done just that, but now it’s different. He hasn’t gone to a bar looking to hook up with anyone in years and he wasn’t going to start now. After throwing excuse after excuse at himself about why his libido just went into a downward spiral, fighting God and all that shit really wasn’t a good excuse for him apparently, it all came down to one angel. Well, person now.

“Good morning, Dean.” Cas walked into the kitchen, dragging his bunny slippers across the cold floor and towards the coffee machine.

Dean watched as Cas poured himself a big mug full and then sat across from him on the kitchen table to join him. Dean already had the sugar and creamer on the table, prepared for Cas who always gets up a few minutes after him.

As soon as he took a sip he smiled into his mug and Dean rested his chin on the palm of his hand as he watched. Enjoying the way Cas’s eyes crinkle at the side when he smiled with his eyes closed. He even shivered just a little as the hot drink ran down his body, holding the hot mug in between both his hands and close to his face.

“Morning, Sunshine.” Dean finally tells him as Cas placed his mug down on the table to smile back at him.

He could live like this for the rest of his life. As much as Dean wanted more, he was okay with this. Having Cas like this. Seeing him like this. Shaggy hair that curls up at the tips and stubble that was already too long but must feel so good against Dean’s skin. Cas’s baggy sweatpants that fall too low on his hips and Dean’s old band tees that were exclusively worn for sleep cling to his muscled frame.

Cas was just art that he could enjoy looking at but not touch. At least not the way he dreams to touch.

A happy sigh escapes Cas’s lips as he rolls his shoulders back and reaches for the untouched toast on Dean’s plate. “Merry Christmas Eve by the way.” He took a bite of the toast with butter and then made a face before he reached for the jam. Sweet tooth. He took another bite before he started talking with his mouth full. “I know you don’t celebrate but I still hope we can watch that movie you wanted to show me.”

Dean hummed in response as he sat up straighter, reaching for his coffee to have his hands do something. “We can do that.”

“Which reminds me we also need to go grocery shopping. We’re running low on supplies.”

“Cookies?”

“Exactly.” Cas winked at him.

Dean laughed and it always felt like he was floating when it was Cas who made him laugh. Yeah, he can live like this. If he can have these mornings everyday then he can live with Cas as his friend.

Grocery shopping took a while even though the place was mostly empty. Dean had a list and Cas kept ignoring it to add random junk he wanted to taste. Some of the stuff Dean hasn’t even tasted himself, “Then we can experience it together.” Was all Cas said and Dean couldn’t argue with him on that.

“What do people do on Christmas Eve?” Cas asked when they walked back to the car to load the groceries. “That child looked at us with pity when we told him we didn’t have any plans for today.”

“Dude, how am I supposed to know?”

“You know more than me.”

“The last real Christmas I had - I was three, Cas.” Dean opened the trunk of the Impala to start stuffing the bags. “Plus, I’m pretty sure that I imagine all those happy memories I had with my Mom and Dad.”

“I’m sure some were real, Dean.” Cas placed the last of the bags in the trunk as he looked at him with a small smile. Pity smile. “You’re Mother loved you so I’m sure she would have done her best to give you-”

“Cas,” Dean sighed as he closed the trunk with a loud thud. “I just want to watch some movies and sit on the couch with you and a tray full of nachos. I don’t want to psychoanalyze my childhood.”

“Ah.” Cas nodded, another smile. This one was softer and warmer. A smile that felt reserved for just Dean. Cas’s cheeks were even rosy from the cold wind piercing through their many layers. “Understood. I’ll take the cart back and you start the car then.”

Dean watched Cas walk away, scratching the back of his head when he saw him walk back into the grocery store. He was going to go after him but decided to do what he was told and just start the car. Maybe they needed a quick getaway.

Cas returned a few moments later with nothing in his hands.

“Dude, what the hell?”

Cas just shrugged and put his hands up to the heater. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

That was the only response he knew he was going to get from his angel - oh wow! Not his. Not even a damn angel anymore.

Dean drove them home while Cas turned on the radio. Tapping his fingers on his knee to the beat of the music. Dean wondered how Cas would react if he just reached over and twined their hands together but instead he gripped the steering wheel tighter.

It was already late when Dean called Cas over to watch the movie. He was going to go with Die Hard, his childhood Christmas movie he watched with Dad, but Dean had a feeling that Cas wanted a movie where it was actually about Christmas. So he picked his other childhood Christmas movie. A Christmas Story.

Cas walked in, his blanket already in tow, and took a seat on one end of the couch. Dean sat on the other with the nachos tray right in between them. Cas sat with his legs crossed and tucked into a corner, almost facing Dean, while he reached into the food before the movie even began to play.

“So you watched this as a kid?” Cas said, mouth full and head tilted as Dean settled on his side of the couch.

“Yup.” Was all Dean said as he handed Cas a beer and pressed play.

It was only the first few minutes when Ralph walked in with a full cowboy getup that Cas laughed and when he met Dean’s curious eyes, enjoying every second of that rare laugh. Cas pointed at Ralph and then him. “Dean that’s you.” He laughed harder as soon as the words left his mouth and Dean hit him with a pillow.

The nachos were moved to the table in front of them, where Dean had his feet propped up.

Cas continued to make little comments as the movie went on.

“Ah, reminds me of that whoopee cushion prank you did on me.” Cas noted as he took a sip of beer.

“All of that for a damn tongue on a pole?” Cas sounded so annoyed that Dean spits out his beer laughing.

They somehow moved closer on the couch with every little comment Cas made. From the mention of yellow eyes. To ask what was put in Ralph’s mouth after he said fudge. (“Dude he said fuck.” “So? You say it all the time.” “I’m a grown man.” “Oh. Children can’t say it?”)

As soon as Ralph said son of a bitch Cas was somehow already shoulder to shoulder with Dean. He laughed, his shoulders shaking, before turning to look at Dean with that big smile again. Dean never thought anybody could look as beautiful as Cas did when he grinned at him like that.

“Dean, I told you that’s you.” He smiled and Dean didn’t have it in him to argue, even as a joke. Instead, he nodded, smiling back at Cas, while his grinch heart grew three sizes.

This was supposed to be a safe nonromantic movie but Dean hasn’t watched it in a while. He forgot the ending when the parents sat in the dark, just like they were in now, and enjoyed the snow falling. With only the Christmas lights shining.

A few years ago he wouldn’t have thought it was romantic - there was no kissing or grunting in this scene what so ever- but the soft touches is what he craves now. He was already so close to Cas as it is. Feeling the warmth radiate off his best friend while his blanket was now over both their laps, he doesn’t even remember when that happened.

He was already so close. Dean could turn his head and his nose could be buried in Cas’s hair, the smell of nature still follows Cas around, and he could hold him. Hold him like he has always wanted to hold Cas, with no immediate danger or death hanging over them. He just wanted to hold Cas because he wanted to hold him. No reason.

Cas leaned into him a little more, untucking his feet from underneath him so he could lay them flat on the ground. Dean noticed every fidget of Cas’s fingers and he wondered if Cas was uncomfortable with the closeness but then in a sudden move Cas had an arm around Dean’s shoulders. Cas cleared his throat as he squeezed Dean’s shoulder closer to him - trying to act like this was a normal thing for them- while Dean stared at him with wide eyes.

Dean couldn’t find the words. He wanted to say some dumb joke or push Cas off but he stopped himself. Instead, he relaxed under the touch and leaned into it.

“Oh, um, the movie ended.” Cas cleared his throat while he started to pull his hand away.

“I’ll, um, I’ll just - let me pick another one.” Dean reached for the remote and picked a random movie in the Christmas category and pressed play. Then he leaned back into the couch again and Cas’s arm was around him again.

Dean doesn’t remember how many movies they watched that night or how he ended up falling asleep on a couch too small to hold two grown men. But he didn’t care because now he had Cas’s fingers making small circles on his back and the touch was so gentle.

“Merry Christmas, Dean.” Cas must have known he woke up.

So Dean folded his arms over Cas’s chest and looked down at him. He could feel the dumb smile on his mouth. “Merry Christmas, Cas.”

“I know it’s customary to give gifts now.” Cas started reaching for something on the floor while Dean opened his mouth to argue but Cas looked at him with those just-shut-up-Dean raised eyebrows so he listened. “It’s something small I got at the grocery store so I’m sorry it’s not something you may want but I believe you deserve a Christmas gift, Dean.”

They both sat up when Cas pulled out a small shiny gift bag with a Christmas tree right out front. Dean wondered when Cas even had time to get this or sneak it in as he sat crisscross back on the couch while Cas copied him. Handing over the present with a wry smile.

“I didn’t even get you anything, Cas.” Dean started saying, hesitant to get the present.

Cas shrugged. “You can make it up to me later. Now take it.”

Dean took it and it didn’t even have tissue paper to hide what was inside. Dean laughed as he pulled out a few Reese’s shaped like a Christmas tree, some DVD of a movie he hasn’t even heard of so it must be new, and a gift card for Dominos pizza.

“These are great, Cas.” Dean laughed looking down at his gifts. “Looks like you already planned our next date night.”

“I did?” Cas looked down at his presents before looking back at Dean with wide eyes. “Date night?”

“I mean, only if you want to-”

“I want to!” Cas quickly leaned into Dean’s space again and he probably didn’t mean to lean in so close but Dean was also not thinking as he met him halfway to press their lips together. It was just a quick kiss before they pulled apart.

Dean didn’t say anything as they sat back on their seats. Staring at anything but each other.

Cas cleared his throat. “Was that my Christmas gift?”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, I’m cheap.”

“Can I have another gift then?” Cas asked, leaning his head down so he could catch Dean’s downward gaze. He was blushing -fuck he was blushing- as he smiled at him again and Dean was taken back to that morning. Where he thought that he could live with just having that smile in his life but now he knows how that smile felt against his own.

Dean only nodded once before Cas fell back into him. Their lips smashing together into a grinning kiss, teeth smacking together, as Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’s waist to pull him closer. Then he pulled away just enough to kiss Cas again, slowly as he took everything in. Cas’s weight on his lap. Cas’s fingers on his face while he held the back of his neck. The soft noises Cas kept making at the back of his throat as they moved against each other that was making Dean crazy.

He can have this. Can have Cas and it was a damn Christmas miracle that Cas was dumb enough to want Dean the same way. And fuck his stubble did feel great against his skin.

“Merry Christmas, Cas.” Dean said when they pulled apart to breathe, their foreheads touching.

Cas grinned, a small laugh shook his body and Dean felt every shake that was in his arms. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

Thanks @destielsecretsanta2020 for this fun project!

#Destiel #Deancas #Supernatural #SPN #A More Profound OTP #My Writing #Christmas Fic #destiel christmas #spn christmas fic #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #destiel frist kiss #destiel ficlet #first kiss #fluff #sorry had to post early just in case I can't tomorrow #hope you don't mind!#WormstacheWrites

214 notes · View notes

starsstruck · 4 years

Text

cloudbusting; part two.

a classic coffee shop story. harry is a painter that quickly becomes a regular at his neighbourhood cafe, and it just might have something to do with a certain barista. rushed closing shifts, late night grocery shopping, and stolen looks.

pairing: harry x reader warnings: language words: 10.9k

art by holly warburton. (i have no vision for the mc of the fic, people in the images of paintings i use are purely because this is how i envision harry’s art to be !)

series masterlist |

a/n: part 2 babyy ! i’m so excited to share this story you have no idea, i really hope everyone enjoys this chapter ! as always i love to hear your thoughts, please share and let me know what you think ! ❣️

Life apparently was one long grocery run.

When you weren’t heading to and from work, you were going to the grocery store. Somehow never able to do one big trip with enough groceries to last you over a week. Even when you tried, you always found yourself heading back a couple nights later for something that was forgotten.

So here you found yourself, after a shift on a Wednesday night, walking through the brightly lit aisles of a nearby supermarket. With a quick stop home to change out of your jeans, to dress in something a bit more fitting for the hot July evening.

Sound of Mitski filling your ears, stopping in the produce section as you filled a cloth bag with a few heads of broccoli.

Harry spotted you nearly immediately. You were observing a zucchini like it was the last vegetable on the planet, eyebrows furrowed and full attention focused on it before you placed it in the basket that was perched in the crook of your arm.

Slowly walking towards you; not wanting to seem like he had been following you through the store, but also wanting to get the chance to talk to you.

His lips twitched as he took in your outfit, some cutoff shorts with a big beige teeshirt loosely tucked into the waistband. He squinted a bit, making out the face of Cher on the back of the shirt.

You had moved from the vegetables to the fruits, picking up a couple of peaches at random to place in your basket. He skirted around the few people in the supermarket, heading to the fruit section as well.

Grabbing a bag of green grapes that were directly across from you, he tried not to look at you.

It took a few seconds, but as you walked over to his side of the section you finally glanced at him. Not fully realizing it was Harry right away, having to whip your head back up again as you found his eyes were already on you.

There was a moment of silent staring, neither saying a word, before you gave him a tentative smile and a small wave.

It wasn’t uncommon that you saw regulars out and about outside of the café. Since you lived closed by, and a lot of regulars were patrons that lived in the neighbourhood. More times than you could count you’d had odd encounters and run-ins.

Sometimes they would recognize you and you wouldn’t know who they were, sometimes they would try and strike up a conversation. The most you usually gave them was a polite smile and maybe a little wave.

But as Harry grinned at you, you found yourself taking out your earphones.

“Hey,” he spoke first, shifting the basket in his hands. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You laughed lightly at his words. “Seem to be seeing a lot of you lately…”

Harry felt his cheeks warm. “I mean –” he stumbled over his words. “Not that much. Considering it’s usually at your work.”

“That’s true,” you mumbled, glancing down at your shopping basket, nearly embarrassed by how much snack food you had rather than food to cook with.

“You didn’t come to the show.”

Looking back up to meet his gaze again, you bit your lips together. “Yeah I – sorry.”

There were a lot of reasons you didn’t go. When he had invited you last week, you told him that you were going to be closing that day so you might not be able to go. Which was fully the truth.

The night of, you had briefly considered it. But you also didn’t really know him at all, and found it maybe a bit weird if you went? Even though he invited you.

“Closing took a while and well – anyway, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he chuckled. “It was a small show, there’s sure to be more.”

“Why do you need to have your art in a small coffee shop?” Asking after a second. “I mean – if you have shows and everything.”

“Just always looking for something new,” he shrugged. “And the gallery is tiny. I technically work there actually, with a few friends.”

“How do you technically work somewhere?”

“I help out as an art prep,” he explained, propping his grocery basket down on the ground by his feet. “It’s probably the least glamorous job you could have at a gallery. It’s just putting up and taking down exhibitions. Measuring where screws go, that kind of thing.”

You only nodded, still a bit unsure of how he fully didn’t work there.

“They don’t usually need the extra help, so more times than most I’m not needed.” He shrugged, likely reading your confusion.

“Okay,” you nodded again. “You know, there might be other cafés around that could help you out as well.”

You watched his eyebrows rise, smile growing. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No,” laughing, feeling nearly nervous. “Just trying to help out a local artist.”

“Well,” he bent down, picking up his basket. “Thank you. And I guess you’ll have to see my work another time.”

Watching the hint of a sly smile grow on his lips, mirroring it in your own expression. “I guess so.”

There was a pause in conversation. “Are you –” he motioned to the basket perched on your arm. “Are you all done? I was just heading to pay.”

“I – uh,” having the bad habit of never making a list when you shopped, you didn’t really know when to stop with your groceries.

“Yeah I’m all done. I just want to grab a few more fruits.” Mumbling as you glanced around, eyes widening at the prices of the berries.

Harry nodded, as he took as small step back. Not moving from where he stood, waiting as you grabbed a small bunch of bananas. You silently wandered past the sections of citrus fruits, picking up some lemons before deciding that should be enough for your shop today.

Harry followed patiently; at first you hadn’t realized that he was staying back for you so the both of you could head out to checkout together.

“All done,” you smiled at him, feeling oddly endeared that he had waited for you.

Walking side by side to the register, placing your items on the conveyor belt with a divider between you and Harry. After paying and bagging your groceries, you were both strolling out into the heavy evening air, moving your sunglasses from the top of your head down to cover your eyes.

“I’m going this way, where are you headed?” He pointed down the street. The sun was casting an orange glow over the building, making them shine golden.

Turning to Harry, letting your eyes skim over him just the slightest bit. He was wearing loose blue jeans that looked worn, a wide hole on the right knee. A white shirt with light blue writing you didn’t get a chance to read, was loosely tucked in. He always seemed to be nicely dressed, even though all the outfits were seemingly casual.

He also had what looked like a hair clip holding some of his hair out from his face, sitting on the top of his head. You had never seen anyone wear their hair like that, and you were finding yourself a bit curious to how he even thought of doing that in the first place.

“I’m headed that way as well, for a bit.” You replied, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder. “I live like fifteen minutes away.”

“We’re close to your work,” Harry glanced at you from the corner of his eye, as you both started walking down the street together.

“Yeah,” you grinned. “It’s nice, living so close to work. It’s only a little walk, no need for a drive or transit.”

“That’s good,” he nodded from next to you. “You’re lucky. I’ve had to lug my paintings on the train a few times, it isn’t the most graceful thing.”

“I know you said you wouldn’t show me a picture of your art,” you started, curiosity getting the best of you. “But can you tell me what kind of paintings?”

He was quiet for a second. “Big ones.”

That was all he said for a moment, and you thought that he was done speaking until he cleared his throat again. “With big colours. I like to uh – I get inspired by just almost, anything that catches my eye, if that makes sense. It comes out in like, big colours and shapes.”

You couldn’t really picture what he meant, but you nodded anyway.

“Like,” he continued. “Think of anything you enjoy, or find nice or just have any feeling towards.”

“I –” you weren’t sure what he was asking of you. “I don’t know.”

He laughed, glancing over at you with a wide smile. “It could be anything. Just, first thing that comes to mind.”

Pausing again, before answering. “I like walking along the water. I just – uh, I don’t know, by the docks. I like the smell of the air. Its like, the diesel mixed with something, I don’t know, it’s probably bad for you but. I like it.”

“What colours does it make you think of?”

That oddly made sense. “Blue. Like –” looking around for a blue that properly described the one you had in mind. Finding nearly the same colour on an awning across the street, stopping to point at it. “Like that blue.”

It was a deep but bright colour, darker than a royal blue. It made you think of the way the sky met the water, on a bright sunny day. It made you think of boats that lined the docks, and the smell of the old wood under your feet as you walked along.

You turned back to face Harry. “Is that too obvious of an answer?”

Laughing again, he shook his head. “Its whatever you feel, there are no wrong answers.”

“So what about it?” You asked, once you started walking again. “What about the blue –like, what about the colour that you think of have to do with your art practice?”

“Well,” he paused, eyes facing forward. “I take inspiration from that; I take whatever shape or colour or person or just, whatever. And then I paint it.”

“Okay,” you drew you the word. “Still would help to see your actual paintings though.”

“You could’ve,” he teased. “Missed out on that.”

“Sorry – oh,” you paused, stopping at the corner of the street where you were turning right. “I’m going this way.”

“Okay,” he stopped next to you. “Oh! Are you working tomorrow?”

You bit back your smile. “No, I have two days off in a row actually. I’ll be back on Saturday.”

He smiled, sun beaming behind him. “I’ll see you then. And hey have a good time off.”

“Thank you,” you hummed, waving by to him with your free hand as you turned in the street.

You didn’t know what it was about Harry. He had an energy, if you will, around him that for some reason set you in a good mood. You had also never really struck up any kind of conversation with a customer outside of work like that, other than the few times you had run into Dani, but that didn’t really count.

Turning around to glance at him, seeing him walk in the opposite direction from you. Unable to help feeling slightly curious about the customer who you were quickly getting to know.

Here !

Reading Mae’s text, buzzing her in and unlocking your front door as well, sending her a quick text to come up.

You had spent the entire day doing laundry and tidying up, grabbing the errands that you had forgotten last night. Your apartment had gotten messy over the past couple of weeks, clothes littering the floor of your room as your ever-growing problem of lacking proper storage continued.

So happy that you had two days off in a row, a luxury. You could spend the first day tidying and getting everything done, and the second day doing something fun.

And now after a day of getting your life together, you had your best friend since college, Mae, coming over to make some dinner.

“Hi!”

Hearing her voice call through your small third floor studio, as she let herself in and locked the door behind her. You followed the sound of her voice, watching as she emerged from around the wall and into the kitchen where you were searching for a bottle of wine.

“It’s so clean in here.” She was glancing around, looking at your empty-of-dishes sink and the put away pile of books that usually sat on your table.

“It’s always clean in here,” you smiled at her, finding the wine you were looking for.

“Sure,” she smiled, keeping her laugh at bay as she knew that really wasn’t the truth.

“How was work?”

“Good,” she sighed, dropping her bag on the table, eyeing the bottle of wine you carried. “I think I’m finally getting Jules to like me. Or at least not hate me.”

“I told you, I doubt she ever hated you,” you replied, knowing all about the partner at the firm that was giving her a tough time.

Having met Mae your first year of college; although the two of you didn’t really get to know each other and get close until the second year. She majored in political science, along with you, except that she now just finished up law school and started working at a law firm.

You had always envied those who knew exactly what they wanted their path to be. Whether that path changed or not, you still wanted to have something to work towards.

Mae had always wanted to go into law, with a specialty in environmental policy and that was exactly what she was doing. You, on the other hand, had no idea what to do after getting your degree. Not applying for grad school unlike the majority of your friends, knowing that you would just be wasting your time and money with more school.

You just never really figured out what it was you wanted to do after. It wasn’t so much that you found yourself stuck; it was just that you knew that there was something missing –that life had to have more to it.

“I know,” she sighed, following you to your couch as you carried two glasses in one hand and the wine in the other. “I just feel like she’s been giving me a tough time – a tougher time than the other associates.”

“I mean,” you paused, opening the bottle. “She’s got to know how smart you are. I doubt that she makes anyone work as hard as you, if she doesn’t think you could handle it.”

“I know, you’re right,” she watched as you poured a generous amount of wine into both glasses, before passing her one of them. “And she did tell me that I was her favourite associate to go to.”

“Oh my god,” Mae was always selling herself short. “She very much never hated you.”

“Mm, I know,” Mae repeated, taking a sip of her wine, a smile now on her face. “Anyway, how about you? How’s work?”

“Same,” you shrugged.

There were never big things to report from work, especially to someone who didn’t particularly understand what it meant when a customer would order something ridiculous, or would return their drink because they thought it would be different. “I’m trying to remember crazy customer’s… oh!”

“I had a woman get mad at me yesterday because a man cut in front of her in line – she said that I should’ve been watching the door to see the order of who was coming in.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Mae laughed. “God I really don’t miss working customer service, and having to deal with entitled people like that.”

“It’s the heat,” you pointed to your open window. “Makes people dumber. I know I say this every year, but I swear every summer customers get worse.”

“And oh God,” you continued. “I was also closing with Erinne and she just is the slowest when she cleans the outside. I hate to be too pushy but like – I mean technically I’m her boss, right? I just feel like everything I say to her goes out her head.”

“That’s annoying,” Mae nodded, nearly halfway through her wine. “I know you don’t want to be that manager but you have every right to tell her off.”

“I know,” you took your own sip of wine, smacking your lips together at the slightly sweet flavour. “But I just remember at my old job, when my coworker became the manager and I never really took him seriously.”

“Okay but you’ve been manager ever since you started – and have been there way longer than she has.”

“I just feel almost if I got harsh with her? I’ve never really really gotten mad at anyone.” You thought it over. “But honestly, work is good. It really is the best café I’ve ever worked at.”

It had been too long since the two of you had got a whole evening just the two of you. It was lovely, to say the least.

“Oh! Didn’t you have a date last weekend? How was it?”

You shook your head. “It wasn’t anything, I ended up cancelling.”

“What?” Mae shifted, her legs up on the couch as she turned to face you. “Why?”

Biting your lips together, not really having any true reason for cancelling the date. “I don’t know – I wasn’t that excited in the first place, and he just kind of had an off-putting vibe. We were supposed to go out after my shift was over but it was also just an exhausting day.”

The date would have been with a coworker of Mae’s, one who she had briefly introduced you to but that she didn’t know well herself, as they didn’t directly work together.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have …?”

“Don’t be,” you shook your head, voice light. “Not your fault at all, I just really wasn’t feeling it.”

Your mind drifted, having nearly forgotten about the date that you cancelled over the weekend. You had no energy for it, and no energy to force yourself to like someone you already were sure you wouldn’t hit it off with.

“I get that,” she nodded. “If you don’t feel it you don’t. No use in wasting everyone’s time with someone you’re not excited about.”

“Mm,” you hummed, finishing off your wine. “Though. There is this guy…”

You tried to stop your lips from turning into a smile, hiding half your face in your glass. Mae shifted next to you, waiting for you to continue your story as she knew that look on your face. “Yeah?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed, placing down your glass on the coffee table in front of the couch. “It’s not really anything. He’s been coming into my work a lot lately, flirting with me – or at least I’m pretty sure he is.”

“Oh I’m sure he is,” she nodded. “All your customers are in love with you.”

“They are not,” you laughed. “I’m just good at my job.”

“Has he ever been there when I’ve been in?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I don’t think so. He started coming in a few weeks ago – maybe like a month ago? He wanted to know how he could get his art up on the walls.”

“His art?”

Mae placed her now emptied glass next to yours on the coffee table, as you nodded. “He’s an artist.”

“How old is he?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, around our age, I think. Like 25, 26?”

“What’s his name? I want to see if I can find his Instagram.” She briefly stood, going to grab her phone that was sitting next to her bag on your kitchen counter. Soon returning to sit next to you, unlocking her phone.

“Harry – I don’t know his last name.” You told her. “I don’t know, he kind of seems like he wouldn’t have one.”

Mae glanced up at you as you repositioned yourself next to her so that you could peer over her shoulder. “He’s an artist and it’s 2020. I’m sure he has one. Plus, I’m sure it’s on public.”

You watched her type in ‘Harry’ into the Instagram explore search bar, the simplest of tasks that of course brought her results inconclusive as he didn’t know people she knew.

“Do you know anything else?” She asked, after looking at the profiles of the first ‘Harry’s’ that the search result brought up.

“No,” you thought for a second. “Oh! One second.”

You remembered the small slip of paper he had given you, with the name of the gallery that he had art up at. It might be another dead end, but it was all you had.

“Here,” you called, after finding the small crumpled slip at the bottom of your bag. “He had some art at this gallery.”

Watching over Mae’s shoulder as she grabbed the slip from you, typing in the name of the gallery. Easily finding their Instagram page, scrolling through the first few pictures for anything that would help her search.

“Is this him?” She spoke after a moment, calling your attention away from the wine that you were searching for again and back to her phone.

You squinted at her screen, watching her thumb swipe over a series of photos, one of which had an image of Harry. He was standing next to two paintings, ones you assumed were his. His hands were behind his back, small smile on his face with some baggy white pants and a loose shirt tucked into the waistband, and the same scuffed Vans he always wore.

“Yeah, that’s him,” you hummed, watching as Mae tapped the picture to see if he was tagged in it.

Success in seeing that he was, going over to his page. Mae was right, it was public.

She scrolled for a bit, going past rows of what you assumed was his art. Some fully finished paintings, some close ups, some sketches in pencil crayon. She stopped once she found a picture, three rows down, of him standing in the sunshine with yellow tinted sunglasses on, an open sketchbook held up in his hands.

Tapping on the picture, enlarging it on her screen as she scrolled down a bit to read the caption. “This is him?”

You nodded again. “Yes.”

She glanced away from her phone, up to meet your eyes. Saying your name quickly, with a little laugh. “He’s so cute. I thought you said all the guys who hit on you at work were old and gross.”

“I mean,” you slid in to sit next to her. “They are. He’s not really hitting on me though. I just kind of have the feeling he’s into me, you know how it is? I don’t know.”

She nodded. “Usually when you suspect it, it’s true though, isn’t it? Flirt with him, see what happens.”

You nodded, lip between your teeth, knowing that she was right. Mae glanced back at her phone, before handing it over to you so that you could further inspect his Instagram. “And seriously, he’s really fucking cute.”

She got up from next to you, tapping your thigh with her now free hand. “I’m going to chop veggies for dinner, you keep looking.”

You only laughed absentmindedly at her comment, although not protesting as she moved to start making dinner for the night. Swiping away from the picture of Harry, scrolling through his feed. Most pictures were of his art, some single pictures, some had multiple one’s together in the post.

Reading over his username, harrystylesart. You briefly wondered if that was his real name or just one he used.

Looking at recent posts first, seeing images of pages out of a sketchbook, orange and red shapes drawn across a white page. Swiping through the post, you saw another image of the same book, this time the picture taken from a bit further away. You immediately recognized the slightly worn wooden table, and corner of the familiar little blue mug.

The drawing itself was of something nondescript, the same oranges and reds, this time with blue outlined as well. You tried to make out what it was, but assumed it was just mindless sketching. Your recalled what Harry had told you, about how he liked to use a lot of colour – this must be his process.

Still, you felt oddly happy that he had taken these pictures at your work.

You kept up with your snooping, looking through pictures of his paintings. He was right, about them being big and colourful. Some seemed to have just odd shapes, some had people, some seemed to include places or buildings.

You kind of wished that you understood them, that you knew why he was making these. All his captions were of very few words, most with no captions at all.

That being said, you found yourself genuinely really liking them. Some in particular, just held a specific feeling that you really enjoyed. You didn’t know anymore than that, you just liked to look at them.

“Find anything else?” Mae asked you, once you had shut off her phone and joined her in the kitchen.

“Nothing big,” you hummed, grabbing a pan from under the counter. “I don’t know, I’ll see. Like I said, it’s just a suspicion. Maybe I’m also a bit bored, it has been a while since I’ve been excited about someone.”

Mae nodded along with you, waving her knife in the air as if to point to you. “That’s true too, it is really fun when you start to have a little thing – I almost miss that.”

She had been in a relationship for nearly three years now. “You do not,” you scoffed.

“Okay,” she paused. “Maybe not. Dating is fun but also kind of awful. But seriously, it is nice to be excited about someone.”

“Never said I was excited,” you hummed, though you knew she saw right through you.

“Okay,” she drew out the word, clearly unconvinced. “But remember that last guy you dated? He was no fun. What was his name?”

“Ross,” you wrinkled your nose at the memory. “Yeah he wasn’t great.”

Mae nodded. “You never even told me about him until the end.”

You had a habit of not always telling your friends about your dating life. Sometimes you would fill them in on every gory detail, and other time you would briefly mention that you started seeing someone but it had fizzled.

It was also very telling about how the dates had been – one’s you were excited about were usually heard of right away.

To Mae, it seemed like you dated a lot, but that was also because she had mostly been in longer term relationships. You thought you dated a normal amount -- you often found yourself saying yes, when people were interested because you told yourself that you never knew what could come of it.

“I’ll come in to your work soon,” Mae continued, changing the subject. “I haven’t been in a while, like to properly sit down. Plus, I want to see this guy.”

“I’m back on Saturday, working right through until Thursday.”

Mae thought over he own schedule. “I have Monday off, and it’s usually calmer then too right?”

“Yeah, it should be quiet. Monday,” you paused, remembering there was something particular about that day. “Oh, I’m closing alone then. Everyone has been taking their vacation at once. But you can stay with me for closing if you want, we could get dinner afterwards.”

“Perfect! I’ll bring all my work to get done, and yes dinner sounds lovely.”

The bliss of your days off ended, and the chaos of the weekend shifts followed. The weekend was always a bit crazy – sometimes you lucked out and it was oddly empty but this was no lucky weekend.

By the time Monday rolled around, you were already tired. And it was only the third day in a stretch of a full week of work with no days off.

At least you were working the closing, offering you a small chance to sleep in as you didn’t have to get into work until the early afternoon, although the downside of today’s shift however, was that you were going to be closing alone.

Mae came into work with you, bringing stacks of paperwork with her to the café to work on.

It was about an hour after Mae had arrived, that you saw Harry coming through the side window. He was just reaching to open up the door, and you were trying to catch Mae’s attention to subtly tell her that the guy she had helped you find online was about to come in.

When Harry walked in, he saw you walking over to the front corner and sit yourself on a chair across from someone else.

He kept walking, seeing your attention pulled away as it was obvious you really knew the person you were chatting with. He heard your laugh ring out through the café from behind him, as he spotted his open table in the back and situated himself there.

Not going up to the counter until he saw you behind it again, waiting a couple minutes as you seemed to be taking a tiny break with who he assumed was your friend. Eventually though, he slowly walked to the front until he was standing across from you at the counter.

“Hi,” you called, from where you stood a bit further back, rearranging clean cups under the counter. “What can I get for you today?”

“Over ice, thank you.”

He watched you pause with a little nod, as you didn’t bother to put the order into the system right away and instead moved further back to the espresso machine to make his drink. He left some change on the counter by the till, sliding it far enough in so that you couldn’t miss it.

He walked around the counter until he was on the other side of the espresso machine, seeing half of you hidden to him as you prepared his drink.

“Sorry if that was weird, in the grocery store the other day.”

He watched you peek out from around the machine. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Must be kind of odd to see a regular from your work outside of that setting.”

“A bit,” you smiled. “But not that much. You’d be surprised by how often I run into customers.”

“Really?” His eyebrows rose. “What’s the worst place you’ve even seen a regular?”

“Nothing really that bad. Sometimes it is a bit weird when I’m at their place of work. Like there’s a woman who bartends at Corner Stone, who also comes here a lot – its like we’re each other’s regulars.”

He saw your eyebrows furrow slightly, as if trying to think of some other occurrences you had had outside of work. “Oh! This doesn’t really count as seeing someone, but I’ve found customers on Tinder before.”

“Really? Ever match with any of them?” He bit his lips together, feeling the hint of a smirk on his lips.

“God no. I never used it that much anyway.” You said, laughing lightly. He briefly wondered if you had done it on purpose, mentioning something like that to him. But he had to tell himself that you were really just answering his question.

You had just finished up making his drink, placing it on the counter in front of him and tapping it lightly against the marble as you usually did.

“Why do you always do that?”

“What?” You blinked back at him.

“You always tap the cup on the counter like that.”

“Oh,” you smiled, small shrug in your shoulders. “It’s a habit. It’s to knock out any little air bubbles from when the espresso pours. If the pour is really smooth, there shouldn’t really be any. It doesn’t matter as much when it’s over ice though, since the ice gets in the way.”

“You do this with all drinks?”

“No,” you replied. “I mean with hot milk drinks you need to smooth out the air from the milk bubbles. And before preparing them you also tap out the milk, and the espresso – again if there are bubbles.”

“All about presentation, isn’t it?”

“Exactly,” he warmed at the laugh that shook your chest. “When it looks nice it tastes nice too.”

He took a small sip of the cold drink. “I don’t think you’ve ever made me a bad cup of coffee.”

“Glad to hear that.”

The two of you both turned your heads at the same time, at the sound of the door closing shut. A group of three women had just come in, chatting loudly as they all made their way to the front counter.

“I got to –” you pointed your thumb in their direction.

“Of course,” he nodded, watching as you turned away from him. Your hand moved down to your back pocket, tapping over your bum lightly as if searching for something in your pocket. He saw you pull out that red pen you always carried, twirling it between your index and middle finger as you went to stand by the till.

Coffee in hand, Harry walked around the counter and back to his to the table where he had left his things.

You eyed Mae while the group wanting to order continued to read the menu, watching her mouth something you could barely make out. She tilted her chin up, nodding her head towards where Harry had gone to sit.

Shaking your head with a light laugh, not sure what she was trying to tell you. You didn’t have time to find you either, as the woman standing closest to the till interrupted you silent conversation. “We’re ready to order.”

Not getting the change to talk to Harry again until a few hours later, right before closing. You saw him standing by the counter, empty cup in hand that he gently placed into the nearly overflowing buss bin.

“Thank you,” you hummed, walking past him on the opposite side of the counter as you started sweeping the inside. There seemed to be more grounds on the floor today than usual.

“Not a problem,” he grinned. “You seem to be everywhere tonight, I swear I just saw you going back to the washrooms.”

“A lot more to do tonight, since it’s just me closing.” You emptied out the dustbin into the garbage can, deciding that you were done sweeping for the day – hoping that the muck left over on the floor would come out with the mop.

“What do you mean it’s just you?”

You glanced around, as if you hadn’t been alone this entire time. Grabbing the dish bin that was sitting between the two of you, walking to grab whatever was left to be cleaned. Harry followed your motions, from the other side of the counter.

“I’m working alone…” you started slowly. “Usually we have two people close together, but we’re short staffed right now. Today and next week it’s just me.”

“That’s no fun,” he said, looking around and seeing nearly all empty tables now.

“Closing isn’t usually that fun,” you laughed, gathering everything that could be sent through the dishwasher. “It just takes a lot longer when I’m alone.”

“I can imagine cleaning must take a while.” He glanced around, looking at all the floor space that needed to be swept then mopped.

“It’s okay,” you shrugged, grabbing your buss bin. “I get paid by the hour, not on salary so I’ll get a bit of overtime in there.”

He only nodded, and your eyes flicked over to the clock hanging on the wall across from you. “I mean this in the nicest way possible but we are now closed.”

Harry followed your eyes to look up at the clock as well, before glancing back at you. “Are you kicking me out?”

“Yes, I am,” nodding with a chuckle, watching him walk over to where his things still sat on a table, gathering them up. Moving the dish bin to the back to fill up the dishwasher, wiping your wet hands on your jeans to go lock the door after Harry leaves.

“You know I’m not the last one here,” he said to you from where he stood, after your reappeared from the back room. He pointed over to where Mae sat at a front table, bent over an array of papers. She didn’t really seem like she was reading them though, her eyes briefly landing on yours when you looked over.

“She gets to stay with me,” you grinned, walking out from behind the counter. “We’re grabbing dinner after.”

“Nice of you to not make her wait outside.”

You laughed, walking to the front door to hold it open as the last thing to do before ushering Harry outside.

You hadn’t noticed he had come up behind you, arm brushing past you. His hand wrapped around yours on the door handle, taking you by surprise the slightest bit, as he was suddenly so close behind you.

“Oh –” muttered under your breath, taking a step back to move away, but your back only hit Harry’s chest as he had you more or less boxed in. “Sorry.”

Your hand slipped away from between the metal of the handle and the warmth of Harry’s hand, trying to slip out from your closeness to the door to give him space to walk out. Slightly propping it open, deciding to move outside and hold it open from the outside.

Glancing up at him, feeling warmth creep up your skin at the awkwardness of the moment, meeting his eyes with your lips bit between your teeth.

“Sorry,” Harry repeated to you, pushing the door all the way open to walk out. You didn’t miss the red tint on his cheeks, and the way his eyes flicked away from yours so quickly you barely got to hold his gaze.

“Have a good rest of your day,” you smiled, giving him a small wave as you decided to quickly move past whatever moment you had found yourself stuck in.

“I’ll see you,” he flashed that wide smile of his, showing off the dimples that appeared as he brought a hand up to move his sunglasses from the top of his head to lay perched on his nose.

You waved when he turned away, walking down the street away from where you were now closing the door and locking it shut.

Mae who had risen from where she was sitting was now slowly walking over to the counter, leaning her elbows on top of it while she waited for you to join her side.

She had a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth, bottom lip lodged between her teeth as if it was nearly impossible for her to keep her mouth shut.

You only laughed at her expression, shaking your head slightly when you walked past her, giving her a little swat with the back of your hand.

“What?” She calls out after you’ve left her alone again, heading to the back to load the last bit of dishes into the dishwasher. “I didn’t say a word.”

“I know what you’re thinking!” You called as you rinsed off old mugs, the traces of coffee now dried to the ceramic.

Double checking that there was nothing left to be sent through, closing the door and pressing the button for the hot water and soap to start cleaning the dishes for the last time of the day.

Emerging out in the open again, on the opposite side of the counter from Mae. You knew there was still mopping left to do outside, but you wanted to get the cash out done first and out of the way.

Mae was silent again, unmoving from her spot as she watched you dump out the coins from the tip jar as you began to lay them out to easily count them. You concentrated for a bit, making small piles of four with your quarters.

“He’s really into you,” she finally said, waiting for you to look back up at her.

You kept your head dipped down, eyes on the counter where all the coins and bills sat to be counted. Biting your lips together as you again found yourself unable to help the slight smile building.

“I know,” you finally uttered, sending her a quick glance with a laugh at her expression.

“He’s even better looking in person.”

“I know,” you repeated, eyes focused downwards at the coins that you were quickly counting. “Now shush! I don’t want to lose count.”

It was the same thing the following week, as it always was. You had your days off, got groceries, ran errands. The weekend was crazy, that was again to be expected especially with the particularly nice weather. Dani had been away, so you hadn’t seen him in about a week.

The week had been just as busy as the previous one, the hot days of late July making more and more people come in for some nice cooled iced drinks. It was a bit crazy to you, how quickly your weeks went by when all you would do was look forward to your days off.

The following Monday, it was nice to have your slow and steady shift again. You had to close alone once more, but this would be the last time as some staff were going to be back from their summer vacation so you would be fully staffed once again.

The afternoon had gone by very slowly, nearly too slow, that you had just been mindlessly cleaning all day. It was good, in a way, because it meant that there would be less cleaning to be done later that evening once the doors were locked and you would be left to finish up alone.

Another commonality with your Monday shift is that Harry was routinely there. Situated in that back corner table he always seemed to get, bag on the chair across from him and things spread out in front of him. You had been too preoccupied with all your reorganizing and cleaning to properly chat with him today. But a small part of you also wanted to see if he would come to you.

Nothing really interesting happened, though, until you were getting ready to start even more closing cleaning and you were passing by his table with a broom in hand.

Sweeping under the empty table across from him first, before moving closer to where he was sitting and letting your eyes wander from the floor to the table, catching a glance at his sketchbook.

It was similar to what you had seen on his Instagram, only this time he had several drawings that were distinctly people.

“Hey,” he suddenly spoke, pulling your attention away from his book and over to where he was now looking at you. “I can see you snooping.”

“Oops,” you shrugged, feigning sheepishness. “I told you, I like to try and figure out the lives of customers. That comes with looking over their shoulder at what they do.”

“Have you figured out the lives of everyone sitting here now?” You didn’t miss how he changed the subject.

“Of course.”

“I think I have too,” he hummed, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest as he gazed up at you.

“I see most of these people a few times a week – I think I have a bit more dirt on them than you.” Placing your broom to lean against the wall behind you, making sure it didn’t fall before crossing your arms over your chest.

The shop was nearly empty by this point, but you knew that almost every customer currently sitting at a table had been in here at least once a week.

“What about those two?” He pointed with his chin, nodding his head in the direction of the couple sitting in the back, across from where Harry was. “Do you think its a date, like a new relationship? Or a longer term thing.”

“Oh,” you hummed, having seen those two at least twice a week for the past couple months. “They’ve been dating for at least a year. Minimum.”

“Okay,” he drew out the word, nodding as he agreed with you. “What about those two?” The only other couple was across the shop on the other side, sitting on the big plushy chairs that Dani always sat at. You had never seen them before.

“I would say,” you paused, trying to observe their body language as you stood back with your hands in the back pockets of your jeans. “Second or third date. They’re still sitting across from each other and have nothing else with them to work on – but they seem just touchy enough. Coffee was probably a last-minute idea, but for sure not the first date.”

Looking back at Harry, finding him still watching you. “You really thought about that one, huh.”

“I told you –” eyes flicking back to the couple in question. “I like to figure out people’s lives. Seeing people on coffee dates is always fun. They’re usually always first or new dates, or in long-term relationships.”

“Coffee dates are easy first dates,” Harry murmured, nodding his head. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you saw a lot of them.”

You thought it over for a second. “I guess I do, yeah. Easy for nervous couples.”

“Can’t imagine you like getting coffee on a first date.”

“Not really,” you said, not missing a beat. Eyes slightly narrowing on him, lips curving, as you silently wondered where he was going with this conversation. “Unless they don’t know what my job is.”

“What about just getting coffee – like not as a first date – is that okay?”

You bit your lips together, eyes briefly leaving his. “Of course.”

He smiled. “Done that recently?”

Was he trying to see if you were single? “No, not recently,” you hummed, eyes flicking back to his.

You only broke his gaze for a second as you watched him pull his bottom lip between his teeth, grin breaking the corners of his mouth. Neither of you spoke for a moment, eyes locked in a little staring contest.

He was the first to look away, clearing his throat as he angled his head towards the front door. “I think I’m keeping you from customers.”

Your attention was pulled away from him, watching a group of four walk in through the door, glancing up at the menu hanging behind the register.

Shooting him one more quick look, before sauntering off to go slid in behind the counter. Hands still placed in the back pocket of your jeans, grabbing the pen that was in one of them as you went to take their order.

After that group there seemed to be another, and another. It wasn’t busy, per se, just steady. And since you were alone, it gave the feeling of being a bit busier since there was no one else there to help you pull shots, or take orders.

Still, slowly customers petered out and there were only a few people left sitting around the café. You had already cleaned the majority of the espresso machine, cleaning out the portafilters and clearing the grounds that collected at the bottom.

Dishes had been constantly running, and you just grabbed the broom to start sweeping the emptier half of the café so that once you were closed, the cleaning wouldn’t take long.

“Closing soon,” you hummed, as you passed by Harry’s table with the broom in hand once more.

“I know, I know, don’t worry.” He put down his pencil, his pause in movement causing you to stop by his table for a second. “You’re closing alone again today, aren’t you?”

“I am,” you breathed, eyes flicking to the clock.

“And you don’t have you friend here to keep you company like last time.”

“I don’t,” you bit your lips together.

He shifted a bit in his chair, feet flat on the ground with one arm placed over the back of the chair as he twisted his body to face you. “Do you, uh –” he paused, flipping his pencil between his fingers. “Do you need any company?”

“What are you suggesting?” You felt the corner of your lips perk to a sly smile.

“If you want,” he quickly started, sitting up straighter. “I could keep you company.”

There was another pause, neither of you speaking for a moment.

But you found yourself nodding to his request. “It’s not that interesting, just me running around cleaning, and counting coins. But I mean – if you want to.”

He nodded along with you. “’Course I do. Plus. I really like this space to work in, it’s inspiring and all that.”

“Okay,” you slowly spoke the word. “But you’re going to have to lift your feet later so I can sweep under your table.”

“Will do.”

You moved past him after that, head still lowered as you swept under the tables across from where Harry sat, moving your little pile of dust and dirt into the dustbin. Busying yourself, since you actually were busy, trying not to smile after your conversation with Harry.

Soon you were ushering the rest of the customers out, the clock hitting seven and the doors being locked. You brought in the patio furniture after fully sweeping and mopping one side of the café, the side that Harry was not sitting at.

The inside cleaning was all nearly done, beans put away, espresso machine fully cleaned and counter wiped down. You were just starting to sweep the second half of the shop, nearly done with the cleaning before you could cash out.

“I can help, if you need.”

Harry had remained fairly quiet after the doors were locked with the two of you still inside. Just as he said, he was still perched over his table with pencils in hand and book open in front of him. You were too busy to really stop by and see what he was doing, assuming he was working on those sketches you had seen when you were spying on his Instagram.

“I’m not paying you,” you teased, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “But seriously, you don’t have to.”

“I can – if you want. I’m bugging you enough, may as well help.”

“I thought you wanted to feel the space, or something? Getting inspired? But really – it’s okay. I’m nearly done here and just need to cash out.”

He paused for a second, before nodding. “Okay, okay. Well I’m here if you need me.”

Conversation stopped there again, for a while at least. You cleaned the washroom, finished mopping all floors and dumped out the dirty water. After all the big cleaning was done, you made yourself a nice cold iced tea in a to go cup that you would take home afterwards.

Grabbing a chair from the back room and bringing it up to the till to sit down while you cashed out, dumping out all the coins and bills from the tip jar first. Counting in silence, not having noticed how Harry had moved tables and was now seated across from you instead of in the back.

“It’s different after closing.”

You glanced up from where you had rows of quarters lined on the counter, trying to not loose your count. “I mean,” you spoke, only after writing down the amount you calculated. “It’s the same – but calmer. Or sometimes more stressful, depending on the day, and who I close with. It’s for sure not as nice as being here alone in the morning.”

You saw Harry nod. “I really like the mornings.”

“You mentioned that,” you hummed, beginning the dreaded task of counting up the smaller coins.

He fell quiet again, watching you quickly move the coins from the counter to the register, counting under your breath while you worked. He didn’t want to distract you and have to start all over again, instead deciding to pull his attention back to his sketch book.

Flipping his pencil between his fingers a couple times, listening to the coins clacking overlapped with the soft sounds of whatever song was playing – he didn’t know it. Finding himself drawing small things he saw around the shop; the way the mugs were stacked, the way the leaves on a plant fell to one side, the way there always seemed to be umbrellas shoved in the vase out front even though it hadn’t rained in weeks.

And then he found his eyes falling back to you; the line that formed between your brows as you focused on counting, the way you sat with one leg tucked under the other, the small movement of your lips as you spoke under your breath.

He hadn’t fully realized he was colouring in the curve of your cheeks until he caught himself unable to stop looking up at you. Using the only pencil crayons he brought with him, colouring you in with two shades of blue.

Starting your outline over again and again, each time focusing on a different part of you that he could see. Squinting as he drew the soft curve of your eyelashes, and then the rise of your hairline, and the dip of skin from your neck until the soft green colour of your shirt started below your collarbones.

After a couple minutes in silence, your sudden movement from where you were sitting brought his attention back up to you, watching as you walked away from the till to the back, quickly coming back with a little baggy in hand.

He shut his sketchbook with the pencils still resting between the pages, rising to his feet with a little push back of his chair. The noise brought your attention to him for a second, eyes flicking between him and your task at hand.

“You did that fast,” he hummed, leaning his elbows down on the counter across from you. You were bagging the counted money, writing down the amounts of the day. Harry tried to not let his eyes linger on your hands. Not wanting to seem like he was spying on how much money you had made in a day, when he was really watching the way you were gently gripping the pen that was being swiveled between your fingertips.

“You learn a few tricks over the years to make it go faster,” you murmured, zipping shut your baggies that would be placed in the safe for the night.

Once you were all done, the only thing left was one last load of dishes to run through before you could close for the night.You began to wait for the dishes to clean, you were suddenly aware of how quiet the space was around you and Harry, the soft music of Mazzy Star creating a dreamy atmosphere.

You also realized you had no real reason for letting Harry stay past closing – it wasn’t like the two of you were doing anything afterwards. But you also knew that you were maybe expecting something, and just maybe the two of you would be doing something together once you were off work.

Bringing the dish rack filled with clean steaming dishes to the front counter, letting them drip dry for a bit before you started to put them away.

Harry was tentatively walking over to where you were, not completely crossing the invisible line that separated the inside to the outside of the café, but pushing it enough.

“Sure you don’t need a hand?” He asked, once he was leaning against the counter that the dishes were sitting on.

“I told you, I can’t pay you for any of it,” you joked. “But really, it’s okay. I’m nearly done.”

He only nodded, watching as you looped your fingers through the handles of mugs to carry more of them at once.

You wondered really what Harry had to gain from watching you finish up your closing shift. You knew he said he liked the space of the café, that it inspired him. Whether that was bullshit or not, you didn’t mind his company.

Still slightly curious about how he was spending all his time at your work, and how he didn’t seem to have anything else going on at the moment other than watching you put away still steaming hot dishes.

“I know you said you kind of work at that gallery,” you started. “But I mean – and I don’t mean this in a bad way but, don’t you have another job? Like not a 9 to 5 but, I don’t know. You’re here weekday’s and weekends, sometimes early and sometimes late.”

Pausing, not sure if you were properly vocalizing the small curiosities you had about Harry. “You know I like trying to figure out the lives of customers but – I mean what do you do?”

He was silent for a bit, and a first you thought you had made a bit of an idiot of yourself but you saw the small tug at the corner of his lips, indicating a smile.

“I’ve been telling you,” he finally said, eyes gleaming when he looked at you. “I’m an artist. That is my 9 to 5. I manage to get some small jobs here and there to make some extra money, but so far I’ve been able to make a living. Get’s a bit tough sometimes but lately I’ve been managing to get a slow and steady stream of commissions.”

You felt a bit bad, nearly dumb for asking. “What kind of small jobs?”

“Well,” he leant against the counter across from you. “Some art handling at galleries. I taught a few classes, probably not very well, at a community centre. Just small things to make some money on the side. But like I said, being an artist is my 9 to 5.”

“Oh,” the word sounded so small in response. “That’s really cool. I mean that, that’s just … really cool.”

You didn’t know why you found yourself so lost for words. He had explained it to you so casually, so nonchalant about following what he wanted.

Picking up the now empty dish tray, bringing it to the back. You didn’t pay that close attention to what you were doing, quickly rinsing it out and turning off the dishwasher. Your mind was wandering, Harry’s words running through your head over and over.

Not realizing it at first, but when you dipped your head down to make sure the dishwasher was properly drained, your vision went a bit blurry. There were small tears pricking at your eyes, building at your waterline and threatening to spill over.

Quickly tilting your head back as if the tears would fall back into their ducts, dabbing the skin under your eyes with the back of your hand.

There was no real reason for the sudden tears that appeared, you knew that. It was probably a culmination of too many busy days of not enough rest. But another small voice was telling you something else, and you knew exactly why you were crying.

But for now, you couldn’t indulge your thoughts too much since you knew that would only open the gates for more tears to come. Shaking your head, pulling out your phone from your pocket to use as a makeshift mirror to make sure the whites of your eyes weren’t shining red.

Keeping your head down a bit as you walked out, avoiding Harry’s gaze. Grabbing your cup filled with iced tea you had made for yourself before cashing out, taking a long sip as if more hydration would make you look as if you hadn’t been crying.

Silently checking over that everything was all ready for the opening shift tomorrow morning. Heading to the iPad to clock out, closing the POS for the day.

“I’m all done,” you finally spoke while heading to the back room for the last time, making sure the fridge door was properly shut before grabbing your bag and keys to leave for the day.

Waiting by the alarm system when you gathered all your things, watching over your shoulder as Harry stood by the door with his own bag. Punching in the security code to set the alarm for the night, hearing the paced beeping that started and alerted the time you had to walk out and lock the door.

He propped the front door open for you, holding it open before waiting while you locked it shut, double checking it was properly closed.

“I just have to…” you muttered under your breath, heading in the opposite direction to the other side of the café. There was an emergency exit in the back, that usually remained lock but sometimes someone would unlock it and forget to close it again, so you always made sure to check.

The door didn’t budge when you pulled on it, finding it properly closed. You met up with Harry again, avoiding his gaze as you kept your eyes trained down on the pavement under your feet.

You knew there had been a big and sudden shift in your mood, but you couldn’t think of any reason to explain it so you simply remained silent.

But, you also didn’t want to start explaining why you were suddenly crying.

“Which way are you headed?”

“Uhm,” you had to think for a second, although you took the same path every single day. “This way.”

Pointing ahead in the direction you would walk down before turning over to the block your apartment was on. Harry hummed next to you, beginning the walk by your side.

Remaining quiet for the first couple minutes, keeping your eyes more or less downcast. Knowing you probably didn’t have the best energy to be around right now, and not even wanting to bother with any kind of small talk.

“Are you alright?”

Lost in your own head, you had almost forgotten about Harry walking next to you in the cooling air of the city. You turned to him for a brief moment, eyes flitting over his before looking forward again.

“Yeah I – I’m just tired. Long couple of days.”

Before Harry got a chance to speak, you realized that you need to turn onto your block. “I’m going here – I’ll see you around.”

You turned the block, stopping for barely a second as Harry uttered a small “See you,” before you walked the opposite direction of him.

Pace picking up as you wanted nothing more than to be home at the moment, quickly walking the rest of the way home.

Finally closing your door behind you, not caring where your bag ended up on the floor and going to immediately crack open a window, airing out the stuffy apartment. You busied yourself with lighting a stick of sandalwood incense, letting the smoke slowly blow out the window, the smell starting to fill the room.

It wasn’t until you went to change into a sweatshirt and shorts, catching a glance of your appearance in the mirror when you suddenly felt tears well up again. Reaching for your phone, deciding that if you were going to wallow in your sudden sadness that you should have a soundtrack for it.

Pouring yourself a glass of wine, knowing you should make something to eat as well but not having the energy for it at the moment.

You only took one sip of the drink before placing it back down on the counter, feeling small tears fall from the corner of your eyes. Wiping under your face with the back of your sleeve, knowing more tears were to come.

The sudden cry had come out a bit out of no where. It sometimes was like that, the unexpected surge of tears that suddenly needed to fall from your eyes.

What surprised you, was that it was triggered by what Harry told you. Him telling you that his work as an artist was his 9 to 5 job, that he was following what he always wanted to do and was so far able to get by.

It was similar to the way you felt with Mae, sometimes. The two of you had graduated with the same degrees, but she was following her dream while you had the same job you held all throughout college. Sure, maybe the location of the job was different, and this time you were manager, but it still felt like the same job.

It wasn’t that you felt unfulfilled in life, and you did really like your job. It was just that there was sure to be more – this couldn’t be it for the rest of your life.

And the small, snarky comment from family or even customers didn’t help. You had had customers ask you if you were just working there “for now” and if it was “some place you were trying to get out of.” It was condescending really, and you always politely smiled at them and told them no, but it never helped with feeling not good enough.

So sitting with your wine, and a little cry, was very much what you needed right now.

#please share and let me know what you think <3 #and i hope everyone enjoys !!!! <33 #cb #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic

508 notes · View notes

laurenairay · 4 years

Text

Make Me a Fool - T. Barrie

Summary: Sofia is tired of going on dates with the wrong guys - when a meet-cute with Tyson turns into only friendship, will she ever have anything more than that?

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: meet-cute, fluff, pining, friends to lovers, some bad language

A/N: this is my first OC in a published fic! (I have another in a WIP). Thank you to @danglesnipecelly and @itsbadgerbadgermushroom for their encouragement in trying this 😘 and also tagging @texanstarslove and @broadstbroskis for just genuinely being sweethearts 💚

~~~

The Dating World hadn’t exactly been an easy ride for Sofia. No matter where she met guys – whether it was through dating apps, blind date recommendations from mutual friends, or even that cute guy she met at the coffee shop – every single one had turned out to be no good. They were all wrong for so many reasons, whether that was a playboy with multiple girls on the go, a guy who was only actually after sex, someone that was so self-centered that she barely got a word in edgeways, or there was simply no spark.

And it wasn’t like she didn’t want these dates to work – Sofia loved love. Her parents had met in high school and had been together happily in love ever since. Sure, she knew that was rare, but to her they were absolute couple goals. All she wanted was to love someone and be loved in return, just like her parents loved each other. Was that really so much to ask for?

Sofia certainly didn’t think so.

Another Friday night alone rolled around, and the only thing Sofia wanted was to get a pint of ice-cream and watch some sappy movies. Maybe while giving herself a pedicure and wearing a facemask. Who didn’t love a pamper night? So with her wavy brown hair piled on top of her head, blue eyes scrubbed free of make-up, and wearing her glasses instead of her usual contact lenses, Sofia headed out for her ice-cream. There were a fair few people in the grocery store when she arrived including one guy by the ice-cream freezer. Huh, a very cute guy. Luckily she was still wearing a bra. No, not the time. She was here for ice-cream, and ice-cream only.

As she walked up to him though, Sofia noticed that he seemed to be desperately looking for something – a specific flavour? – but with no luck. Yep, there was the desperate whimper of frustration. Time to step in; this was her territory.

“You okay there bud?” Sofia asked, frowning.

The guy flinched slightly but turned to face her with a frustrated expression. Oh wow he was beautiful – square jaw, gorgeous brown eyes, big broad shoulders, thick arms…and those curls! Wait, no, focus.

“No, I’m not. I just moved here for work and everything is shit and I just wanted my favourite flavour ice-cream but they don’t have it and I just…ugh!”

The guy trailed off, running a shaky hand through his messy curls. Oh wow, she hadn’t been expecting that. Nevertheless…

“Sorry, you didn’t need to know all that. It’s just been a really bad week,” he grimaced, trying to force a smile.

Poor guy. Well, she could definitely relate to comfort eating after a bad week, that was for sure. So Sofia smiled kindly back, shaking her head. “Please don’t apologise! We all have shitty weeks,”

The guy laughed, but it still sounded a little broken. Time to step up her game.

“Maybe I can suggest an alternative? I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m a regular at this particular freezer,” she said, wearing a hopeful smile.

This seemed to crack a genuine smile. “Sure, be my guest,” he nodded, “I’m Tyson, by the way,”

Well it was a start. “I’m Sofia. Nice to meet you!”

Tyson smiled shyly at her, seeming a little hesitant.

Sofia dramatically rolled her head from side to side, stretched her arms over her head and bounced a few times on the spot as if warming up, earning an outright giggle from Tyson, making her grin at him. Much better.

“Okay, cherry vanilla sweetheart is okay, banana toffee treat is a weirdly interesting combination, I’m a huge fan of the fudgy chocolate brownie, and the caramel swirl is to die for. But my absolute favourite is the peanut butter chocolate heaven. If you like Reese’s chocolate, then you’ll love this one,” she listed, pointing to the different shelves.

What? Sofia took her ice-cream seriously – there was nothing wrong with that.

Tyson looked a little stunned, but that quickly turned into a brilliant smile, making Sofia’s breath catch in her throat. “The peanut butter chocolate one sounds pretty good actually. Exactly what I need,”

“Happy to help,” Sofia shrugged, trying to play it cool as she passed him a carton of it, as well as grabbing one for herself.

“Hey, um….”

Sofia looked up at Tyson as he trailed off, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. What?

“This is a kinda weird to ask, and I swear I’m not a creep, but I’m new in town and I really don’t know the best places in town to get ice-cream from so-”

“Would you like my number?” Sofia asked, trying not to giggle at his rambling, “for ice-cream related emergencies?”

Tyson’s smile seemed to dim slightly, but he nodded so Sofia figured that was what he wanted to ask her. That was what he wanted, right?

“Yeah, exactly,” he murmured, “I could really use a friend,”

Sofia hoped her smile hadn’t dimmed as well when she passed her phone to him. Friend. Why did that feel weird?

When he passed her phone back with his saved number in it, Sofia sent him a quick message of ‘Hey, it’s Sofia :)’, earning a smile from him as his phone lit up.

“I’ll see you again soon, ice-cream friend?” he asked, voice full of hope.

She couldn’t help but to giggle, nodding her agreement. “Yeah I’d like that Tyson,” she said, smiling at him.

If he wanted friendship, then she could and would give it to him.

The friendship that blossomed between Tyson and Sofia was genuine and sweet. He’d texted her the next morning, just a picture of the empty carton and a thumbs up – and she laughed as she sent back the exact same thing. And from there they were texting pretty much every day, Sofia getting to know exactly how sweet and kind and caring Tyson was. They started hanging out in person too, coffee runs and lunches and late-night dinners, to the point where they had a standing movie night (with ice-cream!) every Friday when Tyson didn’t have a game – and hadn’t that been a surprise, finding out that he played in the NHL. He had admitted that ice-cream wasn’t even remotely in his diet plan at all, but Sofia obviously wasn’t going to tell anyone – and besides, Tyson deserved a cheat treat every now and again, especially with how hard he was working and playing.

Over less than two months, Tyson quickly became one of her best friends. He was just so easy to talk to, and he knew exactly how to make her smile when she was having a bad day – not to mention how amazing his hugs were. And she knew that she was a huge support for him in his new city. She always answered the phone while he was on roadtrips so he could hear a friendly voice, never judging for anything. Sofia knew that she gave him a break from the intensity of his hockey life. She just…liked him, okay? He was such a good person, and really quite her ideal guy – but he only wanted and needed a friend, so that’s what she was determined to be for him. He deserved that much at least.

A few more months passed into their friendship, and it was a week into the New Year where their Fridays lined up perfectly, so Sofia was on her way over to Tyson’s with a couple of bottles of decent white wine. He was supplying the ice-cream this time, but damn it she needed the wine too. Yesterday night she went on her third date with a cute guy she’d been really hopeful about, but, well…

“He said what?” Tyson gasped, his jaw dropping.

“That he wanted to fool around before we went any further, and if I didn’t want to then he couldn’t see a future for us,” Sofia groaned.

“Please tell me you kicked his ass to the curb,” Tyson scowled.

“You’re damn right I did,” Sofia grumbled, taking a big gulp of her wine.

Tyson took a big gulp of wine in solidarity, staring at her with his big brown eyes wide with disbelief. But then Sofia couldn’t help but sigh.

“Why do my dates always end up going so badly? Is there something wrong with me?” Sofia asked, pouting.

Was there? Had she been the problem all along? But Tyson immediately shook his head.

“No, absolutely not,” he said firmly

As much as the conviction in his words made her heart skip a beat, she sighed again.

“Tyson…”

“Nope, I won’t have you talk about yourself like that,” Tyson interrupted, frowning at her, “These guys you try to date are the problem, not you. Ethan…Easton…Evan…whatever his name was, you are worth so much more than that. You’re kind, funny, smart, caring and beautiful, and any guy would be lucky to have you in their life,”

Any guy, huh? Sofia felt tears spring to her blue eyes, so she quickly wiped them away, but not before Tyson saw.

“Hey, c’mere,” he murmured, beckoning her towards him.

Sofia shuffled down the sofa willingly, curling into Tyson’s side and slumping her head against his chest. She immediately relaxed as his arm wound around her waist.

“It’s okay to be a romantic, yeah? It’s not a bad thing that you want to genuinely fall in love. I know I do,” Tyson said softly.

Of course he wanted to fall in love as well. Of course.

“Thanks Tys. I don’t know what I would do without you in my life,” Sofia sighed, squeezing his hand where it rested on her hip.

Tyson just hummed his agreement, pressing a kiss to her wavy hair, making Sofia smile sadly. Of all the guys she couldn’t have, why did Tyson have to be one of them? She couldn’t see Tyson’s sad smile in return though.

“Ice-cream and 10 Things I Hate About You?” Tyson asked.

“Yes please, I need Heath Ledger in my life,” Sofia nodded, sniffing as she sat upright.

Tyson laughed, wiping her cheeks dry of the tears she didn’t know had fallen. “There, still beautiful,”

Why did he have to make things so difficult?

Love was a funny thing. It could be fleeting, passing like a ship in the night, or even all-consuming, like a wildfire with no hope until it burned out on its own. The more time that Sofia spent with Tyson, the harder she fell for him, and the harder it was for her to pretend that she was okay just being friends. No matter how many first dates she went on, how many guys she hoped to move on from him with, nothing worked. The very first moment they’d met when she’d gone out of her way to make him laugh as she recommended him ice-cream, she knew she was done for. But how could she tell him how she felt? He’d literally asked for her phone number to be his new friend in a new city, nothing more. And there was no way she was ruining the incredible friendship that they’d built between them, not a chance. There was no way she could feel anything but empty if he was no longer in her life, and she couldn’t risk losing him. She wouldn’t.

But she didn’t know what to do.

What Sofia didn’t know was that Tyson felt exactly the same. The moment he’d met her, he was gone. She was beautiful – that much was obvious as soon as he saw her – sparkling blue eyes, that amazing wavy brown hair he always wanted to run his fingers through, and the warmest most genuine smile he’d ever seen. But it was her heart that dazzled him on that first night – instead of walking away from his crazy mid-breakdown frantic self, she’d offered to help him and made him laugh. She’d gone above and beyond to make him feel better, and he’d never met anyone like her before. Like an idiot though, he’d completely messed up asking her out on a date, and instead she’d given him her number to be his friend in this new city. Only his friend.

Hell, he knew she wasn’t interested in him romantically – she went on enough dates to show him that he didn’t stand a chance. How could he? He knew he was nowhere near good enough for her as a life partner. Even though he’d told Nate (wonderful oblivious emotionally-useless Nate) how hopeless he felt in their weekly phonecalls, Nate kept telling him to take a chance on Sofia, that Sofia would feel the same as him, Tyson knew Nate was wrong. But there was no way he could give up having her in his life, no matter how much it hurt him to be second to those stupid guys she dated. So he did his best to be the absolute best friend she could possibly need, no matter how hard it was.

Tyson only wished she could see him as more.

“Oh god, why did I drink so much?” Sofia groaned.

Tyson giggled as she slumped against his front door as he closed it, just about able to kick her heels off her feet. “I told you not to do shots with the Swedes, but you didn’t listen,”

Sofia whined, not wanting to admit that he was right. Even though he was right. Tyson smiled fondly at her, shaking his head as he kicked off his own shoes.

“I just wanted your teammates to like me,” she grumbled.

“They already do, sweetheart. They love you as much as I do,”

Tyson froze at the words that spilled from his lips, his heart skipping a beat at the smile that spread across her lips.

“Sweetheart?” Sofia grinned.

Tyson let out a shaky breath. The deep blush that spread across his face made Sofia laugh, a little giddiness rushing through her body along with the alcohol.

“Let’s get you some water,” Tyson grumbled.

Sofia just laughed again, skipping along behind him to the kitchen. It had been a last minute invite to drinks with his team this Friday night (she’d initially hoped to save the Friday night for a second date with a guy from Hinge that she had been hopeful about, but their first date on Tuesday had been so dry and dull), but Sofia had still had a brilliant time. She knew that Tyson knew that she had been disappointed with her date this week, so it had been really sweet of him to invite her out to cheer her up. And he’d even called her sweetheart! A girl could dream, right? Tyson kept his back to her as he reached for a glass in the cupboard and pulled out a jug of filtered water from the fridge, but Sofia just hopped up on the island counter to watch him, happily swinging her legs.

She’d had a great evening with one of her favourite people and now she was still hanging out with him – what more could she want?

“Here, why don’t you drink this while I get you something comfy to wear?” Tyson murmured, breaking her out of her thoughts as he pressed the cold glass of water into her hand.

“Thanks Tys,” she said, smiling, “you’re the best,”

He smiled shyly at her, still blushing slightly, before he left the room to get her some clothes. Sofia sipped on the water as she waited to Tyson to return, still swinging her legs with a smile on her face. She knew she probably shouldn’t have had so many shots tonight, but it had just been such a fun atmosphere. Sofia definitely wasn’t the only one drinking that much (at least, she wasn’t the guy that had to be carried out to an uber) – and she knew that Tyson was watching out for her, so she knew she was able to relax and just have fun. He made her feel safe, that she could just be herself without worrying, and tonight at the bar she’d had an amazing time.

The hangover tomorrow would be worth it.

“Okay, some comfy shorts and a tshirt for you,” Tyson announced, walking back in the room, dressed in sweatpants and an old tshirt now instead of his nice shirt and jeans.

“Ooh gimme,” Sofia grinned, hopping off the counter.

Tyson smiled fondly at her, taking the glass from her hand in exchange for the clothing. Then she frowned at him, earning a frown back. “What’s wrong?”

“The zipper on this dress always sticks and all the vodka will not help – will you unzip me?” Sofia asked, eyes wide and pleading.

Something inside her was telling her that this was a stupid idea, such a stupid thing to ask, but the remaining alcohol coursing through her veins drowned that out. But when Tyson just stood there in silence, his mouth slightly open and his eyes glazed, she felt a niggle of doubt start to creep in. What was she doing, asking him to unzip her? Stupid.

“Forget it, I’ll just stay in this dress,” Sofia mumbled.

“No!”

Sofia flinched at his shout, making him wince.

“I’ll unzip you, it’s fine,” Tyson insisted, “turn around?”

Sofia nodded, biting her lip as soon as her back was facing him, swallowing heavily as she heard him take a shaky breath. She jumped slightly as his fingers brushed the top of her spine, unable to stop her heart beating faster as he slowly unzipped her dress. What had she been thinking, asking him to unzip her? Now she’d never forget the feeling of him standing so close, the touch of his fingers on the small of her back, no matter that she was still a little tipsy.

“There, all done,” Tyson said, voice a little shaky, “I’ll go put a movie on, yeah?”

Sofia just nodded, watching in silence as he walked away. Damn it. She took a deep breath, letting her dress drop to the floor with her eyes briefly closed, before shaking herself out of it and quickly unhooking her bra, dropping that to the floor too. Once she’d pulled on his clothes over her panties (even his laundry detergent smelled amazing), she dumped her discarded clothes onto the kitchen counter and headed into the living room to join him. He’d turned off all but one floor lamp, leaving the room with a low glow, nice and cosy. Tyson looked up at her with a smile, settling her nerves. Whatever, it had just been a weird moment, that was all.

“Pretty Woman?” he suggested.

“Sounds good to me,” she nodded.

He lifted his arm, making her grin and sit down, snuggling into his side, kicking her legs up next to his on the ottoman.

“Comfy?” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Yeah, press play,” she nodded, settling into his hold.

It can’t have been more than 30 minutes before Sofia felt a little heavier in his arms, so Tyson looked down – sure enough, Sofia was fast asleep in his arms. He swallowed heavily as he watched her peaceful face, mind flashing back to the kitchen moment earlier. Unzipping her dress had felt so intimate, especially when his fingers touched the small of her back, and now she was lying in his arms? How was his heart supposed to cope with this? This was everything he wanted…and it wasn’t real. It wasn’t going to last. But…surely it wasn’t a bad thing if he just let her continue sleeping? She looked so sweet, so cosy, and he didn’t want to disturb her. So instead, he just switched the movie off, tossing the remote onto the coffee table before snagging the blanket off the back of the sofa and gently throwing it over the two of them. Their legs were already kicked up on the ottoman after all; he could sleep like this. Luckily she’d already been wearing her glasses tonight rather than her contacts, so at least he didn’t have to worry about waking her up to take them out – he just gently pulled them off her face and tossed them to the other end of the sofa. No point in waking her up. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, relaxing back into the cushions, and closed his eyes.

He could pretend for one night, right?

Sofia blinked her eyes open slowly, groaning as she (blurrily) saw that it was 5am from the clock on the wall. They hadn’t even turned off the floor lamp…but the tv was off and there was a blanket over her. Over them. And Tyson had even taken off her glasses for her. Oh wow. She’d fallen asleep on Tyson, and he hadn’t moved her? She lifted her head from Tyson’s chest, looking at his sleeping face with a soft smile. He was so handsome, wasn’t he? Her heart ached a little at the gentle expression on his face, soft and kind even in sleep. Wow. And it was so nice being held in his arms, the two of them having shifted a little to curl around each other in their sleep, her arm over his waist with both of his around her. She could stay like this for a little longer, right? He was so warm, and it just felt so right…

She could pretend for one night, right?

The next few weeks following the sofa-sleepover weren’t quite as smooth and easy as Sofia had hoped. It’s not that it was particularly awkward, oh no, and there definitely wasn’t a bad vibe between her and Tyson…it was just different. Something felt different between them – she didn’t know if it was because she knew what it felt like to sleep wrapped up in his arms, or the fact that he had demonstrated (even more so than usual) just how kind and caring he truly was, but it was something. And she knew Tyson was the same, because every now and again he would get a strange expression on his face before he shook it off and carried on as usual with a smile.

She couldn’t put her finger on it, and it was frustrating as hell. It was almost like being in limbo, that weird stage that wasn’t quite friendship anymore, but definitely wasn’t anything more. And Sofia was getting so tired of it. She knew she was going to have to tell him sooner rather than later – things were too off for her not to. Because at this rate, she was just going to make herself devastatingly miserable, and she had more respect for herself than that. She wasn’t a fool, and she wasn’t going to start acting like one now.

It was going to have to be all or nothing. But damn if that wasn’t the scariest thing Sofia had ever felt. And she had put it off every time she’d seen him since that night, unable to speak the words that would change everything. It was just so hard, faced with the potential of losing him for good. She hadn’t even been on any dates at all over the past few weeks, unable to even think of anyone that wasn’t him, which was so outside of her usual self that even her colleagues had noticed.

Speaking of…

Tonight she was out at a bar with some of her friends from work. It wasn’t a big weekend booze-up, just a casual couple of drinks after work mid-week – Sofia was only planning on having a couple of glasses of wine as she was heading out to dinner with Tyson afterwards. All she knew was that he had a phone call scheduled for something to do with his work, so they’d decided to meet at the bar first before heading out for food. Sofia was all glammed up though, contact lenses in and blue eyes surrounded by a subtle smoky-eye, with a cute new little black lace dress hugging her curves. She’d gotten ready in the bathrooms at work with a couple of the other ladies she worked with (they were staying out for drinks after she left) so at least she wasn’t the only one. She felt beautiful, the confidence shining through in her smile, and she knew she’d turned heads as she walked into the bar with her colleagues.

Maybe tonight was the night. Hah. Maybe not.

“And another glass of Sauvignon Blanc for you, Sofia!”

Sofia smiled as her friend passed her the new wine glass, nodding her head in thanks. She needed to stay out of her thoughts, wary of being lost in them, especially as she was seeing Tyson tonight. Clear, focused and confident. That’s what she needed to be. Not pining and mopey. No, that wasn’t good at all.

“Oh, hey, isn’t that your boy?”

Your boy. Hah. If only.

She spun around to where her colleague was indicating, unable to stop the smile that spread over her lips as she saw Tyson. Waving to get his attention, Tyson did a dorky wave back before he walked over.

“Hey, sorry I’m a little late. You look amazing,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her in a hug.

She blushed slightly as she hugged him back, squeezing his waist even with her wine in her hand, before letting go.

“Thank you, you’re too sweet! And it’s really not a problem. I did just get a new glass of wine though,” she said, lifting it in indication.

Tyson laughed, shrugging. “I’ll get myself a beer too then, and we can head out after?”

“Sounds good to me!” she grinned.

Tyson grinned back, walking over to the bar in question. Sofia turned back to her colleagues, several of whom were grinning widely at her, but she just rolled her eyes, shaking her head and earning a few pouts.

“Don’t you dare say anything,” she warned.

A couple of them held up their hands in surrender, making her laugh, but another frowned over at something over Sofia’s shoulder.

“Maybe you should say something,” her friend said, jutting her chin in the direction of the bar.

Sofia turned around again, to see what the hell her friend was talking about, before she froze, her breath catching in her throat. Tyson was at the bar…talking with a pretty blonde woman. That, that didn’t mean anything, right? It wasn’t like they were…oh, there it was, the woman brushed her hand up against Tyson’s arm, giggling at something Tyson said while he smiled down at her. Of course a beautiful woman was flirting with him, and why wouldn’t he flirt back? It wasn’t like he had anything or anyone tying him down. It wasn’t like she had any claim to him herself. It wasn’t like Sofia had ever told him how she felt.

And now she was paying for it. Was she really too late? After all this time? Feeling her smile slip, Sofia turned her back on Tyson, forcing her smile back on her face for her colleagues, who were all just staring at her in pity.

“Please don’t,” she begged, taking a deep breath, “clearly I lost my chance,”

“He’s already walking back over, that was just flirting!” one of the girls insisted.

But Sofia just shook her head, taking a big gulp of wine. She was going to need it. That woman was beautiful, blonde and buxom just like every hockey WAG stereotype. And she was definitely not – so maybe this wake-up call was what she needed. No matter how much it hurt.

“Hey, sorry I took so long, service was slow,” Tyson said, apologising as he slipped back in next to her.

Lie. But it was okay, it wasn’t like she wasn’t aware.

“No worries. Cheers!” Sofia said, raising her glass.

Tyson frowned slightly at the fakeness of her smile, but lifted his pint glass to clink with hers anyway. Sofia just took another big gulp of wine.

After that, as hard as she tried, she couldn’t break herself out of that edge of sadness. The evening was tinged with it now, like an ice grip over her heart. Seeing him flirting with that woman was the kick up the ass that she needed – there was a reason that she and Tyson were just friends.

But even though she tried to keep up a happy façade, she knew that Tyson saw through it, even when they’d left and were eating in the restaurant he wanted to try. He would pause every now and again, a little confused expression on his face, which only broke Sofia’s heart a little more. He knew her so well, but he still didn’t know this. And now she didn’t even know if it was worth saying anything – she looked nothing like the woman he’d been flirting with, so what was the point?

Soon enough, their dinner was over (not that Sofia could say what she’d eaten or what they’d talked about, only that neither of them drank anything alcoholic), and Tyson was driving them home.

Oh, he was driving them to his apartment. Not what she’d expected, but she would roll with it. Nothing they hadn’t done several dozen times before. She could hold herself together a little longer.

“So, the food there was really nice. I’ll have to recommend it to some of the guys,” Tyson said, smiling as he unlocked the door.

“Definitely!” she nodded, shutting the door behind them, “although I’m pretty sure none of them will be going for dessert like we did,”

Tyson made a shushing noise, pressing her finger dramatically to his lips, making her laugh as they walked into the kitchen, sitting down on the stools at his kitchen island. Her laugh trailed off slightly as her heart clenched again, realising how comfortable and how right this felt between them. Why couldn’t this be easy? Why couldn’t things just be easy for her for once?

“Hey, what’s going on?”

She looked over to Tyson as his soft question brought her out of her thoughts.

“What do you mean?” she asked, forcing a smile onto her lips.

“There,” he frowned, “That. That fake smile, you’ve been doing it all night,”

Ouch.

“Have not,” she muttered.

“Yes, you have! You were fine when I first met you but as soon as I came back with a drink, something had changed. What’s wrong?”

Why did he have to be so perceptive? He was a hockey player for fuck’s sake. Why did he have to notice this now?

“It’s nothing Tys. I’m fine,” she said firmly.

Tyson rolled his eyes, making her purse her lips together. “I can tell when you’re lying, Sof. You’re clearly not fine. What happened? Was it something I said?”

“No, it wasn’t something you said,” she said sharply.

“Then what’s wrong? Because it’s clearly something!” he asked, his voice raising louder in frustration.

Ugh, for fuck’s sake.

“Why can’t you just drop it?” she snapped.

“Why won’t you just tell me?” he shot back.

Sofia groaned, throwing her head back. “Maybe it’s personal and maybe I don’t want to tell you,”

“What did I do to make you not trust me? We tell each other everything and now there’s something you can’t say? Won’t say? What the hell Sof-”

“I like you!”

Oh god.

Oh no.

As Sofia tried to breathe, there was one thing she noticed more than anything. Tyson was frozen, his mouth open in shock – and he hadn’t said a word. Sofia laughed at his silence, a little wet with imminent tears, a lot broken, and shook her head. What was a little more heartbreak, right? It’s not like she could take it back now.

“No, you know what? I’m pretty sure I love you. But that doesn’t matter, right? Because you haven’t said a damn thing a-and I knew this was going to be the reaction you gave me, which is exactly why I haven’t said anything before. So now you know – I have feelings for you, and…and you clearly don’t have feelings for me. I think I’m just going to go,”

She still hesitated though, as she pulled her phone out to order an uber. 2 minutes away. But Tyson opened and closed his mouth, eyes frantic but voice silent. And that was all she needed to know. Uber booked. Goodbye Tyson. Sofia left his apartment with a heavy heart, slamming the door closed behind her, tears prickling at her eyes as she ran to the elevator, but she pressed her lips together in an attempt to control herself. She’d told him how she felt, and he hadn’t returned her feelings. She’d put herself out there, all for nothing. And that’s all there is to it.

She could wait until she was home to cry.

If nothing else, she was lucky enough that by the time she reached the bottom of his apartment building, her uber had arrived, so she hurried in quietly, resting her head against the window. The driver seemed to realise that she wasn’t in the mood to chat and just put on some soft music, making her heart clench even more as her mind replayed the last 10 minutes.

She’d finally told Tyson how she felt.

Tyson hadn’t said anything.

Nothing at all.

And he definitely hadn’t tried to stop her leaving.

What more of an answer did she need?

Sofia woke up with a heavy heart, feeling like every part of her body was aching. She felt empty, completely drained, just as she feared she would if...no, when she lost Tyson. There was no going back now. There was nothing else she could do. Her friendship with Tyson was over, and fuck that hurt so much. He was such a big part of her life…what was she supposed to do without him?

She barely managed to shuffle from her bed to her kitchen before she started crying, hands shaky as she made her morning coffee. This was her own fault, she knew that. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. So she just let the tears fall, the pain of her heart breaking flooding through her body. It couldn’t have been more than 20 minutes until she finished her coffee, but it felt like hours, her head throbbing and her eyes stinging, her cheeks tacky with tears. She couldn’t carry on like this. She couldn’t waste her day, her life, like this. What was the point in that?

Sofia hated feeling pathetic, feeling weak, especially over a guy (even if that guy was Tyson), so she took a deep breath, wiping her cheeks dry with her fingers. “No more. Suck it up,” she muttered to herself.

Her breath shook as she left her coffee mug in the sink for later, her hands still shaking a little too, but she stood a little taller, trying to convince herself that everything was going to be okay. Because it had to be okay. It had to. There wasn’t any other option.

But as she went to walk towards the bathroom to take a shower, the door buzzer rang. What the hell?

“Who is it?”

“It’s me,”

Holy shit. Oh god. Tyson?!

“What are you doing here?” she asked shakily, her voice cracking.

“Please will you just buzz me up?”

Oh god. Should she? She couldn’t just leave him outside, right? This couldn’t be happening. What the hell was he doing here, after last night?

“Please Sof? We need to talk,”

Well, fuck.

She bit her lip, before pressing the buzzer, allowing the building’s front door to open. She knew she had less than minute before he would climb all the stairs and knock on her front door, so she quickly ran to her bedroom, scrubbing her face with a make-up wipe and running a brush through her hair. That was better than nothing. She whipped off her ratty old pyjamas and quickly pulled on some clean panties, some sweatpants and a baggy sweater, at least making herself look casual rather than like a slob.

Then she heard three knocks on the door. Damn it.

Sofia quickly shoved her glasses on her face, taking one last glance at herself in the mirror before walking as calmly as she could to open the front door. Sure enough, Tyson was standing there, looking the most nervous she’d ever seen him. Well, at least she wasn’t the only one feeling affected.

“Can I come in?” he asked softly.

She just nodded, letting him walk past her before shutting the door behind him. Sofia bit her bottom lip, wringing her hands together, before she took a deep breath. This was her home. She was in control here.

“So, you didn’t answer my question,” she said simply, “what are you doing here?”

Tyson let out a whoosh of breath, running a hand through his messy curls. He looked…well, he looked exhausted, if nothing else. Like he’d barely slept. Much like her. Wow. What was he…

“I came here to apologise, Sofia,” he finally admitted.

“Apologise? For what?” she asked, forcing a smile.

“Stop. Please stop,” Tyson said, his eyes full of sadness as he stared her down, “you know you don’t have to pretend with me,”

Well, fuck.

“What do you want me to say, Tys? I’m trying to patch together a broken heart here,” she said, her smile now wobbly. Damn it. She wasn’t going to cry again. She wasn’t!

“But I don’t want you to patch up a broken heart!” he blurted.

Sofia’s breath caught in her throat, her mouth going dry. What was he saying?

Tyson swallowed heavily, looking down at the ground before looking back at her, his eyes shiny but steady.

“You make me a fool, Sofia,” Tyson murmured, “every time I think I’ve got my head on straight, you spin me around. I always feel like such an idiot around you, always messing up. Just like last night, when I just froze up like a fucking statue instead of telling you how I feel. The thought of you not being in my life, even just overnight, is too much to bear. I can’t be without you,”

What?

He…what?

Tyson saw her hesitation, but didn’t dare stop talking now that he’d started. And Sofia couldn’t find any words to say at all. So Tyson licked his bottom lip nervously, before taking a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

“I should never have let you walk out of my front door last night. I should never have let you go without telling you that I love you too,”

Sofia whimpered, hand flying up to cover her mouth as tears filled her eyes. He loves her too? He…loves her? Tyson bit his bottom lip, stepping forward to rest his hands on her shoulders, desperate for the contact.

“Please tell me you still love me? Even though I acted like a fool? Even though I hurt you?” he said softly.

She immediately nodded, tears finally trickling down her cheeks. “Of course I still love you. These feelings aren’t just going to disappear overnight,”

Tyson smiled, his eyes a little watery too, but he leant down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, making Sofia whimper again before slumping into his arms. He slid his hands from her shoulders to wrap his arms fully around her, her hands rising up his back to clutch at his t-shirt.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry,” Tyson whispered.

“It’s okay,” Sofia said, her voice muffled into his chest.

“No, it isn’t. You weren’t okay last night and I pushed you and pushed you, and then acted like a complete asshole,” Tyson muttered.

“You weren’t an asshole! I…I was so sad last night, before we left the bar for dinner. It killed me to see you flirting with her, that beautiful blonde woman while you ordered your drink,”

There. There it was.

But Tyson just huffed a laugh.

“That was nothing. She meant nothing. And now you know how I feel every time you went out on a date with one of those stupid guys,” Tyson mused, “you go out on so many dates!”

Sofia blushed slightly, thunking her head down on Tyson’s collarbone, making him laugh.

“I haven’t been out on any dates at all since we fell asleep on the sofa,” she grumbled.

“Yeah,” Tyson said, his voice much more serious now, “I noticed that. And it gave me hope,”

“Hope?” she asked softly, looking up at him.

“Hope that maybe it wasn’t just me that had feelings,” he explained, smiling.

Sofia smiled shyly back at him, before biting her bottom lip. Tyson noticed her hesitation, and unwrapped his arms from her, leaving one hand linked with hers. Sofia blushed slightly at the contact, as silly and simple as it was, making Tyson smile again.

“C’mon,” he urged, tugging her towards him lightly.

She followed Tyson through her own apartment until they reached the sofa in the living room, the two of them sitting down next to each other. Her heart beat a little faster as he turned to face her properly, but she tucked up her legs to face him too, her knees brushing his thighs. This felt different. This felt so different.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Hey,” she laughed.

Sofia looked down at where there hands were still joined, Tyson just running his thumb over her knuckles in response. Why were they being so weird about this? No, she needed to know what he wanted. It couldn’t be any worse than last night, that was certain. She could do this.

“So what do you want here, Tys?” she asked softly.

Tyson smiled. She was so much braver than him, twice now. “I want to call you mine, Sofia. And I want you to call me yours,”

Sofia’s breath caught in her throat, but her lips spread into a brilliant smile. Yes. That was…that was everything she wanted. And he was just offering it to her on a silver platter? Really? Well, she wasn’t turning this done, no way in hell.

“I think I could get used to calling you my boyfriend,” she said, not hiding an ounce of her happiness.

Boyfriend. Wow.

Tyson’s smile spread into a grin, the giddiness spreading through his face, making her laugh. “I can’t wait to tell Nate that you’re finally my girlfriend,”

Sofia snorted. Of course Nate would come first before his family. “Is there going to be an I-told-you-so in there?” she mused. She wouldn’t put it past Nate to do so.

“Oh yeah he’s never going to let me live this down,” Tyson nodded, “especially with how I treated you last night,”

Hey, no.

“Water under the bridge, Tys. We’re sorted now, right?” she said firmly.

“Yeah, of course we are,” Tyson grinned, giving her hand a squeeze.

He was finally hers. And she was finally his. Fuck that felt so good.

“There is one thing though,” Tyson said, breaking her out of her thoughts.

“Oh yeah?” she said, frowning.

What?

“Can I kiss you?” he asked shyly.

Her frown melted into a smile, earning a smile back. Instead of answering, Sofia leant her head up, Tyson meeting her in the middle to press their lips together in a gentle kiss. Oh wow. Oh wow oh wow oh wow. She pulled away with her lips tingling, Tyson looking just as dazed as her.

“Kiss me again?” Sofia asked breathlessly.

Tyson grinned.

#my writing #tyson barrie #tyson barrie fic #meet cute to just friends to lovers #all the pining you could ever want #tyson barrie x reader #tyson barrie imagine #tyson barrie fanfiction #hockey writing #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl writing #nhl imagine

206 notes · View notes

hybridfanfiction · 4 years

Text

Owner Training - 8

- YOONGI POV -

He knows exactly how long he’d lived on the streets. Seven hundred and fifteen days. Almost two years. Not long compared to many of the other hybrids that had roamed the area, but long enough for him. It had been cold and miserable, and he’d always had to fight for a spot under the park bridge when it rained. He’d been hungry and constantly sick, but it was still better than it had been living in any of his other previous homes.

He’d been smart when he left the last one, taking along his keyboard that a social worker had given him. Playing on that had allowed him to make enough money to keep himself fed, thanks to the guy that ran the convenience store and didn’t mind hybrids buying things for themselves. There was also the little old lady that ran a hostel nearby that let him pay for a shower and a nap, slipping him soup and sandwiches sometimes.

And then there’d been her.

The first couple of times he saw her hadn’t been some sort of love at first sight story. She’d simply been another face in the crowd that would stop by when he played, clapping and throwing some change in his bucket. It wasn’t until she’d asked if he could play Il Lamento by Liszt that he’d bothered to take a good look at her. Then once he’d looked, he couldn’t stop. Suddenly he noticed how pretty she was, how she always smelled sweet and clean with a hint of the same lemon and ginger tea every single day. How she never talked down to him.

Before long, he’d begun to look forward to her visits. Sometimes she’d bring him breakfast and chat for a while ( meaning he’d let her ramble on while he set up his spot for the day) before she left for work. Sometimes she’d stop by after a hard day at work and simply sit on a bench with her eyes closed, listening to him play. He always made sure to play something soothing on those days.

Occasionally she’d throw him way too much money which made him feel really awkward, so he’d offer to do something more to earn it. Usually, she just had him carry groceries or something else equally small just to humor him.

It was every time that she was too busy to show up that he realized he was growing alarmingly attached to this human. That was not a clever thing to do, and he’d always prided himself on being a smart and realistic guy. Humans weren’t to be trusted. They would pretend to be loving and caring, then the moment no one was watching they’d turn their hybrids into slaves and sex toys.

But then there was her, Ginger. That wasn’t her real name, of course, just what he’d taken to calling her in his head. She always smelled like the lemon and ginger tea she obviously drank often. He got so used to smelling it as soon as she arrived that he’d begun to equate that scent with...comfort? Home? He didn’t know. It’s not like she was his owner or anything, but his hind-brain was certainly attached to her.

The point was that he trusted this woman for some reason that he couldn’t quite figure out. She seemed genuine and caring, but so had others in his past. She seemed a little ditsy sometimes, but that wasn’t a bad thing exactly. It was kinda cute, to be honest.

So yeah, there were a few times he’d daydreamed about what life would be like if someone like her was his owner. Sure, he’d like to be able to not have to have an owner at all, but that wasn’t the reality of his life. Somehow, however, he thought if it was Ginger maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. She was nice, really pretty, and seemed to like him just as much.

So maybe when the most horrible storm of the year had happened and he’d been shit out of luck getting a spot under the bridge, he decided to take a shot. Worst case scenario, she called Hybrid Control. Best, she’d let him stay for the night. So he’d run towards the familiar apartment building only to find that she was still at work. All the lights were off and the door was locked. He could have slept on the porch, and he’d had every intention of doing so until he’d seen the wide-open window.

He’d sighed in exasperation at her forgetfulness. Really, anyone could just jump inside the first-floor apartment and steal her shit. He’d been racked by shivers, the cold rain firming his resolve. Better to ask for forgiveness than die of pneumonia.

He’d climbed into the bedroom window, cringing at the muddy prints he made on the floor. He’d clean it up before she got home. He sniffed, nearly moaning in happiness. It smelled so great in her apartment. He could smell her everywhere. There were occasional scents here and there that weren’t hers, but they were so faint that they obviously belonged to visitors.

He’d been terrified, honestly, but he’d been so desperate and lonely and just emotionally drained that he’d decided fuck it. If she freaked out and kicked him out on his ass, well, better to get it over with now before he got even more attached.

So he’d turned on the heat, showered, and grabbed some sweat pants from her dresser. At first, he hadn’t meant to fall asleep in her bed. He’d planned on just sitting there and waiting for his doom, but then the heat was so nice and the covers looked so soft and smelled so much like her that he figured just for a minute. He’d just try it out for a minute because it had been so long since he’d slept in such a nice bed.

When she’d woken him up after she came home, he’d been terrified. Of course, he’d long mastered the art of seeming nonchalant even while his heart was pounding so hard he was afraid it would burst. So he’d bluffed his way through, hoping that she was really as much of a bleeding heart as she’d always seemed.

Thank fuck she was, because she simply allowed him to stay with minimal fuss. In fact, he’d even gotten her to go along with him living there instead of just for the night. Of course, she’d obviously been too confused by what was happening to protest anything, but once again her ditziness was part of her charm.

That first night in her bed would live in his memory forever. It wasn’t like much had happened, but it was something to him. He’d felt...safe. Probably the last time he’d genuinely felt that way had been when he was a kitten and didn’t know any better. But laying next to her wrapped in warmth and her scent, their legs tangled together and his tail pulling her close...he’d been safe.

The days that had followed were like a dream. Every time he thought it was time for her to show her true colors, she’d surprise him instead by showing that her heart was bigger than her brain. Despite the way he forced himself into her life, she made every attempt to make him feel like he belonged there. She took him shopping, tried to cook for him despite being horrible at it, bought him a cell phone so that she could text him while she was at work. She went out of her way to find his favorite foods and shows and anything else she could spoil him with. She took care of him when he was sick and always let him sleep in the bed with her.

After a while, he began to forget that there was a time before her. There were still times where he’d call himself a fool for trusting a human, but she just had to smile at him like he was her whole world for him to think that she was the exception. She was the real deal and he wanted to be good enough for her.

When he realized that his feelings were veering into the forbidden territory of maybe actually loving this dumb human, he’d been terrified once again. Would it be better to keep it to himself and learn to live with it when she eventually got into a relationship someday, or tell her and risk losing her completely? Because, while she’d never treated him like a pet he was still a hybrid. Hybrid and human relationships were still viewed as “kinky,” something he didn’t think she was...well, not without a bit of training in the future anyway.

Learning that her own brother was in an actual committed relationship with his hybrid had been an eyeopener. She’d never expressed a single bit of disgust or disdain towards the relationship at all. They simply were a regular couple in her mind. Despite the small bump with the way she introduced him to people, he thought maybe that meant she would be okay starting something with him. Honestly, he sometimes got the feeling that she did have feelings for him already and just didn’t realize what that meant yet. He’d learned that Ginger needed to have things pointed out to her plainly in order to understand, so maybe even this was that sort of situation.

So, when his heat suddenly snuck up on him after years of being completely irregular, he’d figured what could be plainer than waving your dick around?

Truthfully, he’d been a little worried that she’d freak out, but at the same time when you’re overcome with loving someone and extreme horniness you don’t make the best decisions. Thankfully, what had followed had been the best sex of his life. And even more amazing, she’d admitted that she loved him back. Him! She actually loved him even though he was a grumpy asshole most of the time and he knew it. But luckily for her, she always brought out his softer side and he’d do anything for her.

He wanted to stay with her forever. To love her, mate her, see her belly swell with their children. To wipe her tears when she’s sad or comfort her when she’s worried. He wants to be there when she’s old and grey to remind her every day that she’s still beautiful.

He still had a long way to go to be worthy of her, but he’d spend his whole life trying.

****

It's a little short, I apologize. I've been working like crazy, but I am working on many more chapters for this as well as my other stuff. Lots of things in store for these kids. I just felt like we needed a peek into Yoongi's brain real quick.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #hybrid!bts #hybrid #hybrid fanfiction #hybrid!yoongi #cat hybrid!yoongi #owner training #hybrids #ungnyeo

358 notes · View notes

tae-cup · 4 years

Text

Have a Merry Christmas :) - Yoongi

For: @yoongi-sugaglider, Eommaaaaaaa

From: Marria

Pairing: Musician!Yoongi x Author!Reader

Summary: The littlest of gestures have the biggest impact <3

Genre: Neighbors to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

Warnings: Your heart may burst from the fluff, like a little language here and there.

Rating: PG

Word Count: 3.8k Words

A/N: I am not Christian, but I have a lot of holiday spirit, okay? Also, Eomma I loved writing this for you. Honestly, it’s so cute and I love you and everything you do. You’re doing great and I hope this is what you were hoping for! Alexa, play All I Want For Christmas is You by Mariah Carey

Other: Masterlist

Moving was a long and laborious task. Your arms felt like jelly as you clutched the heavy box of dishes. You kicked open the door of your new apartment as it began to close behind the line of movers going in and out.

“Need some help?” A low voice grumbled. Assuming it was your father, you just groaned and nodded.

“God, I didn’t even know I had so many dishes! I’m pretty sure I just use the same ones. I should give some back to you and mom.” You complained.

“That’s great, but I’m not your dad.” Ah, shit.

In your defense, the box blocked a majority of your line of sight and you were a bit preoccupied. What you didn’t expect was to see a handsome man staring at you through narrowed eyes. A small smile tugged at his lips.

He wordlessly held open the door for you to get into the apartment and you didn’t say anything out of embarrassment. You set down the box and when you turned around to say thank you and apologize, he was already gone. The door next to yours clicked shut.

Great. It wasn’t the first impression you had wanted out of your next door neighbor. You pulled your hair into a ponytail and swiped at the building sweat. You needed to do something to get on better terms with your neighbor. Or maybe you were overthinking things way too much. You began to unpack the dishes while the movers brought in the couch.

After the dishes were put away, you went back out to help the movers. On your way out, you glanced at the heavy oak door that was close beside yours. You bit at your lip and turned back to head downstairs. You had wanted to knock, to apologize or just say something.

Something something something. You were always doing something. They called you quite the ‘fixer’ in your house. Being an author was not usually a great career choice, but one thing did stand out about you; when something was wrong, you fixed it.

Min Yoongi ended up being quite the enigma, as you were soon to find out. Ever since your first meeting, he had been cordial with you. In all honesty, though, he rarely left his apartment. You did figure out that he was a musician and studying in the music department at the local college. How did you find out? Well, you weren’t a stalker, okay, but you did overhear conversations from time to time. The walls were thin.

You had noticed how he rarely had any visitors, even during holidays, and a few times you had wanted to ask if he wished to join you for celebrations like New Years or Christmas, but you never did. You found out why he was alone about a year into living in the building. You didn’t speak to him, but there was some attraction to the unknown.

It had been Christmas. You were packing and preparing to leave your monotonous life to spend time with your family. It was your favorite time of the year. Warm fairy lights were hung all around your apartment and the smell of cinnamon candles was in the air.

You shoved the last of your clothing into the bag. You were decked out with ugly Christmas sweaters, beanies, and boots. Just as you were about to leave, you heard the shouting of muffled voices from next door.

Neither of those were Yoongi. You knew because, well, he just never seemed like the type to yell in an argument. In all your interactions with him, leaving in the morning, riding the elevator, you knew him to be a quiet and introverted man.

The shouting grew louder and you wondered if you should go knock on the door and check in. You exited your apartment and walked the few steps to stand in front of his door. Hesitation filled your mind and you bit at your lip. After a few more moments, you decided against it. You turned and started walking down the hall to the elevator.

Suddenly, the door to his apartment opened and closed with a loud slam. You felt yourself jump at the loud noise and you twisted your head to look at the door. Yoongi, with his faded blonde hair, you had noticed he was into dyeing his hair a different color every month, was exiting his room. He took brisk steps, mumbling something about getting some fresh air.

You glanced at him as he strode into the elevator with you. He was running his hands madly through his hair in a constant rhythm. Then he took in a deep breath. The elevator already held winter’s frigid air and you could see the lightest of breaths puffing out from his mouth.

“My parents.” He said simply. You nodded in understanding, connecting the dots.

“I’m sorry about that.” You said softly. He finally looked at you. You remained still, watching as the numbers ticked downward.

After a few moments of his eyes roaming your face, he turned back to look at the metal doors.

“It can’t be helped. Most parents wouldn’t want their child throwing away their life on trivial pursuits.”

“Trivial pursuits, hm?” Your heart thumped quietly in your chest. You remembered the look your parents gave you when you told them about your wishes to pursue writing.

“I want to be in the music industry. You know, like those kpop producers?”

“I see.” You hummed in acknowledgement.

The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors slowly creaked open. You hurried out, shouldering your duffle bag. The lobby was cold, the doors opening and letting a cold breeze in every time a resident entered or exited. Yoongi stepped out with you. This was the longest conversation you’d had with him for a year, it was oddly calming.

Yoongi was a listener and he took his time with his words. You reflected this in a way, but your support system was stronger. When you looked at his tired face, the way his lips pulled into a natural frown, you felt concerned. How was he holding up?

“I think you should do what you want, Yoongi.” You said, walking to the entrance for the underground parking. He watched you go.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, I am.” He said simply and turned on his heel, leaving for the regular entrance.

A few years passed like seconds. Your life was just flashing by your eyes. Schoolwork, your job, everything was the same. Each year you led a comfortable lifestyle, you even managed to get your book into the editing phase. More and more, your life and fascination with your neighbor had intertwined.

The words you wrote in your book became based on the intrigue of your mysterious neighbor. Who was he really? What did he do besides schoolwork? To you, it seemed he just sat inside and played piano until the early morning hours, just like he was doing now.

Christmas Eve was around once again and you were packing, once more, to go see your family. You wanted to leave extra early in order to spend more time with your grandma, whose health had been shaky lately.

The sweet melody of silent night echoed through the quiet building. You glanced to your far left wall, trying to imagine him sitting at his piano, playing such a melancholic song such a happy day.

That’s when it really began; the notes. It started with a simple message scrawled messily on a sticky note.

Have a Merry Christmas, yoongi. :) - Y/N

You kept at it. Notes upon notes, everyday, 365 days. It gave you something to do and it was always a nice routine. You were sure he threw away each note and he never mentioned them when you stood in the elevator together either. It wasn’t anything bad.

They always just said simple things like Hope you had a good day today. Or Are you alright? Or, your personal favorite, Have you had anything to eat? The questions always ranged based on how you heard him enter his apartment. You tried your best to plan ahead, so you kept at least two in your pocket in case you forgot sticky notes.

You often thought over your feelings for him. He was nice, sweet, and on top of it, extremely handsome. You lazily wrote I like you one day on a sticky note and then crumpled it up, stuffing it into one of your pockets. Someday, someday. You told yourself.

“Whatcha got there?” You asked, eyeing the white grocery bag in his hand.

He stood next to you, as per usual, on the elevator. The elevator itself was old and slow.

“Just some dried squid.” He said.

You were quiet, which prompted him to continue.

“They’re taking them out of stock this week and I don’t know how long until I can get them again. I don’t have time to go anywhere else. So I guess I’ve just got to stock up.” He explained quickly. You nodded, logging the information away into your brain.

“Personally, I like Kyoho Jelly.” You said.

“Ah, that’s good too.”

The next week, you went to another grocery store, and even though you weren’t a particularly big fan of dried squid, you bought several packages. For the next few weeks, you delivered your notes with a bag of dried squid.

Both you and Yoongi had rather...solitary ways of life. He spent his time holed up playing piano and you spent your time hiding in your room writing. In fact, you mostly had the same schedule as each other. It felt nice to have a companion on your short trips to and from school. Even if you didn’t say much, it was enough.

You ran into him on the elevator once more. He gave you a nod of acknowledgement and even managed a smile. You felt your cheeks heat up slightly. Who wouldn’t be flustered to speak to him?

Yeah, he had that nerdy, introvert, kind of look to him, but he had this mystery in his eyes, a coldness that could only be found through years of immense strength and resilience. You knew him to be dedicated. Your way of supporting him was by not knocking on his door when it was 1 A.M. and he was practicing the same piece for the hundredth time.

Yoongi held a folder of sheet music in his arms and you held your manuscript. The blonde looked at your arms.

“You’re a writer?” He asked.

“You could say that.” You shrugged and hit your floor number. You stayed still as he stepped in after you.

“That’s...really cool.” He said awkwardly.

You were a bit surprised. You had expected him to be cool as a cucumber, very put together, but he seemed almost nervous as he stood beside you. He fidgeted quite a bit and averted his eyes away from you.

“I guess.” You said softly, a warm feeling growing in your stomach. Then you bit your lip to keep from smiling.

“I wanted to apologize about uh, the way we met.” You chuckled. “I didn’t know you weren’t, achem, my father.”

He looked away and you saw his shoulders shake with a silent laugh. Then he turned back to you. You saw a ghost of a smile left on his lips and he slowly let his face fall back into a neutral position.

“It’s no problem.” He said stoically, then he broke character, “I found it quite...humorous and you’re cute so it’s no big deal.”

Then he flushed bright red and stumbled over his next words.

“I mean, I-nevermind, this is awkward.” He rushed and took a deep breath. He released a sigh and you smiled at him.

“Thanks.” You said gently.

The elevator dinged and you stepped out, waiting for him. Did he know about the notes? Why hadn’t he said anything? You glanced at his flustered face and decided against questioning him. He stepped out and began to walk with you in silence to your door.

You finally made your move.

“Hey, I know I usually leave these on your door, but since you’re right here...I’ll just give it to you, okay?” You reached into your pocket and picked up the first crumpled piece you found. You handed it to him sheepishly and he took it, holding it carefully in his soft hands.

“Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.”

He opened his door. “See you around.”

“See you-” the door shut. “-around.” You finished quietly.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the other piece of paper. How’s your day? It read. Your face paled. Oh god, no. The only other paper in your pocket had been...I like you.

Your book had been slipping away from you. The editing process was tedious and time felt like it was getting away from you. Yoongi didn’t know about your book, he didn’t know how you wondered if he was alright, like some weird infatuation. It was normal to be worried about your neighbor, right?

On the subject of notes, you had gotten a rather harsh wake up call from your publisher. He had explained, in simple terms, that your book wouldn’t be successful.

“The writing is okay, I guess, but what happened halfway through? I was sure the main character was going to end up with Brandon, so why does it so suddenly change? I think this will throw off readers looking for a cute romance novel.” He said, as if reading off a script.

“But it’s realistic. You can’t fall in love and expect to be with the first man you lay eyes on.” You argued.

“Look, Y/N, this is just supposed to be a ditzy romance novel. Don’t get into your head with metaphors and realism. That’s not what you’re good at and not what we signed up for. Thanks.”

And the call had ended just like that. Distressed was an understatement. You set your phone down on the counter and collapsed on the couch that lay next to the wall that connected Yoongi and your apartment.

He was playing Nuvole Bianche, a rather sad song, and it pushed you to the edge. Everything was going wrong. Yoongi hadn’t even looked at you since you got the notes mixed up and you were sure he was purposefully avoiding you.

The tears began to stream down your face, painting your cheeks. The piano rose in intensity and a sob tore out. Years of work, and for what?

The disappointed looks on your parents’ faces, the raised eyebrows of your professors, all the words they had said to you in subtle jabs at your character, your career choice...were they true? Were they right? You curled in on yourself, sobbing loudly. You didn’t even notice the piano music halt.

The only sound were your sobs, the hopelessness that settled in your bones. Maybe you should just stop. Then, there was a melody. A soft tune that had waited for a quiet moment. You’ve got a friend in me.

The joyful piano contrasted that of your own despair. You lifted your head. Had he heard? Did he know? You swiped at your eyes as the tune grew louder.

You got troubles, and I got 'em too. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you. We stick together and we see it through. 'Cause you've got a friend in me. You've got a friend in me. The melody swept you up and carried you away.

You could breathe again.

The TV was turned up loud, blaring the message that had you sitting on the couch this Christmas instead of with your parents.

“A large avalanche occurred late last night, blocking a major roadway from Seoul to Busan. Officials say no one was injured in this disaster, however this will prevent hundreds of people from returning home this Christmas.” The reporter said.

You watched the screen, mind blank and eyes open. The screen itself was blurred to your vision and you were currently pushing away the harsh reality that threw a wrench in the happiest day of the year for you. You had no one. Still, in your misery, you blinked and stood. You had to do the one thing you knew how to do; write.

So you wrote. You wrote well into the afternoon. You wrote until your fingers cramped and your stomach growled with hunger. You wrote until you could hear Yoongi slamming his apartment door at the end of the day.

Your misery was on display on this blank white page. Wasn’t this supposed to be a good day? You bit your lip and looked to the far wall. Yoongi was silent. No piano music was heard.

In a split second decision, before your inspiration vanished and your mind became numb from writing all day, you jotted a few words down onto a sticky note. You surveyed the yellow paper. It was such a small square, but the words on it meant something. It was weird how words can mean so much.

You left your apartment, stretching out your back which had been hunched over your computer. You swallowed thickly and stuck the note down on the ground. You knocked and waited. No response.

You sighed and left, opening your door and slamming it shut behind you. You felt angry tears pricking at your eyes. It was stupid, trying to understand your handsome neighbor, trying to connect to such an obviously closed off person.

The sound of his door opening softly and closing made you stop. You checked the time. You had three hours to midnight, three hours to Christmas.

Yoongi hesitated, staring down at the little note. Have a Merry Christmas :) - Y/N

He bent down and picked it up, the note reminding him of the first note last year. Of course he noticed the notes everyday, of course he felt grateful, happy that someone cared. It had been a long time since that happened. He flipped over the note. Nothing on the backside, yet the simple words seemed to taunt him.

The notes had made him feel...funny inside. Yoongi wasn’t all too great at figuring out what was going on in his head, he just plowed through life as fast as possible. He spent his time lost in work, piano, or sleeping.

Your notes felt like a time when he could calm down and stop for a bit. How are you? I hope your day was good. Little things that made the biggest of impacts on his world.

He needed to do something. The blonde, now mint haired, couldn’t understand how he felt about you. All he knew was that he very desperately wanted to make you happy. He had gone radio silent for a while, unsure of what to do when he discovered your note; I like you. What was he supposed to do with that information?

Maybe you like her back? His conscience said.

He thought of the crumpled notes in his desk, the replies never sent. He knew what he needed to do next.

30 minutes to midnight. You were sprawled on your bed like you were making a snow angel. A soft rapping on your door made you sit up. You glanced at the time and then you stood. You made your way to your closet in an attempt to throw on something other than your pajamas.

In the end, you just chose leggings and a random christmas sweater in your half packed bag. Looking at the open bag made you frown and your mood dampened. The knocking sounded again.

“Coming!” You shouted, pulling on socks and walking to your door.

Upon opening the heavy wood, you saw no one. Then, on the ground, was a sticky note.

Have a merry Christmas :) - Yoongi.

You picked up the note, heart thumping wildly. You turned to look at his door. It creaked open slightly and All I Want For Christmas is You began its lilting melody.

You folded the paper up and stepped towards his door. You gripped the note tightly, hope blooming in your chest. He sees you. The little voice in your head pushed you to continue you into the apartment.

“Yoongi?” You called. The piano continued playing. Your heart thudded in your ears and you glanced down the short hall.

A board was propped up at the end, illuminated by hazy yellow Christmas lights. You stepped quietly and quickly towards it. You noted the similar layouts of your apartments.

It was like all the pieces of an apartment (a hallway, a room, a bathroom, etc) but in a different order with the same dimensions. As you walked closer to the board, you could finally make out what was on it. Your breath caught in your throat.

Notes. Little sticky notes were pressed all over the board. You leaned closer and the familiar scrawl of your handwriting came into focus. All of your notes. Every. Single. Note. You had ever sent him, was on this board.

You felt tears spring to your eyes. He had kept them. You managed to hold back the flood as you read over each note with fascination, because beside every note, was another note in Yoongi’s handwriting.

How are you? I’m okay, how are you?

Did you eat today? Yes, there’s no need to worry.

They were in various conditions. Notes, you realized, that he had intended to respond to you with. Each one was crumpled slightly, as if he’d thrown them out and then decided against it.

A bag of dried squid sat next to a bag of Kyoho Jelly. You smiled a little, remembering your gesture of goodwill. In the very middle, however, you caught the note you were sure he had thrown away.

I like you. I like you too.

Time froze. The tears were down your cheeks in an instant, the overwhelming emotions flooding you. The note’s words played over in your brain, like his soft breath in your ear.

I like you. I like you too. The music came to a stop and you were pulled from your thoughts, twisting around to face the mint haired man. His eyes were soft, a gummy smile on his face.

“You didn’t think I would let you spend Christmas alone after all of this, hm?” He teased.

You let out a little chuckle and walked towards him. He stood from his piano and met you in the middle of the room. He took your hands in his and squeezed softly.

“Thank you, Yoongi.”

“No, I should thank you.” He glanced at the board of notes. “You didn’t need to do all of this.”

“It was just a silly infatuation.”

“There’s nothing silly about it, Y/N.” He pulled you closer ever so slightly. Then he looked up pointedly and you followed his line of sight. Mistletoe.

Without a second thought, without a doubt, which was a surprise since you had many, you tilted your head and met his lips with yours.

He pressed into you, wrapping an arm around your waist and moving his lips in time to yours. Yoongi had an aloof and cold demeanor oftentimes, but he found he was only ever warm when he was with you.

You pulled away, breathing a little harder than before. His cheeks were tinged pink and yours were as well. You were flustered, captivated by his chocolate eyes. The clock on the wall chimed midnight.

“Merry Christmas, Yoongi.” You breathed.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” Then he leaned in once more and gave you a soft kiss on the lips.

#bts #bts x reader #Min Yoongi #Castlebangtan #castlebangtan friends #ily eomma #yoongi x reader #Secret Santa #fluff #strangers to lovers #stl #neighbors to lovers #bangtanuniversity #bangtanarmynet #kpopuniversenet #PG #Marria is in the holiday spirit

112 notes · View notes

ladylynse · 3 years

Text

Chapter 6 [FFN | AO3] of Forewarning

All Dipper knew was that there was something buried in some special thermos behind the shack; all Danny knew was that he had no idea how he'd gotten here.

Based off this artwork by @hashtag-art. Happy birthday, @bibliophilea!

(beginning | previous)

-|-

Once safely back at the Mystery Shack, Wendy turned off the golf cart and grabbed her supplies from the rack in the back. It had been a bumpy ride, but she’d only needed to sacrifice one bag of marshmallows to the forest. That wasn’t bad, considering how many creatures she was fairly sure lived there.

And, fine, maybe it made her a little paranoid to think that some of the bumps she’d hit had been deliberate, a growth of tree roots just so or deep holes suspiciously covered with leaf litter, but it wasn’t like she voiced her thoughts to anyone else.

Besides, whatever lived in the forest seemed happy with the occasional sacrifice of candy. At the very least, she’d never been stopped by something yet, and she took a lot of shortcuts through here by herself. That wasn’t exactly recommended, even for those who knew the territory well. When her family went out for apocalypse training, they were supposed to pair off. They didn’t always, but they did more often than not.

It’s easier to survive if there’s someone you trust around to watch your back, but you have to know how to fight if there isn’t.

Whatever had stopped by the Mystery Shack wasn’t bringing the apocalypse with it—she was pretty sure about that—but she didn’t want this to turn into that. Taking the twins to see the haunted grocery store? Sure. She still hadn’t been sure they’d actually see ghosts despite the stories—no one had been until it had happened—but that was different. That was contained. That was very much not in the Mystery Shack. Where the kids slept. With only the oblivious skeptic Stan around to fight the things that went bump in the night.

Now, if those things were corporeal, she wouldn’t be concerned. The man knew how to punch, and he’d punch before asking questions. But whatever had turned up this time clearly had the option to not be corporeal. Like a ghost.

She remembered the footprints appearing in the scattered baking soda a split second before the boy who’d visited earlier appeared. The same boy who had flashed a careless grin and flipped through postcards and keychains and magnets in the gift shop before taking a tour with Mabel.

Whatever he was, he wasn’t a ghost, but he was entirely too much like a ghost for comfort.

There was no sign of Stan yet—not a surprise; she hadn’t heard his car—but chances were good he wasn’t far behind her.

She saw Soos walking in from the lane and raised her hand in a wave. He spotted her and held a finger to his lips before pointing, and something cold and heavy settled in her gut as she spotted three figures by the woodshed: Mabel, Dipper, and the not-a-ghost boy who’d called himself Danny.

She cursed under her breath as she hurried to meet Soos. “That’s him,” she hissed. “We need to get him away from the twins.”

“Did you find anything in town that we can use?”

“I bought a couple more boxes of salt.” Silver was expensive—too expensive for her, anyway—and she wasn’t exactly guaranteed to find holy water even if she tried breaking into a church, mostly because she didn’t know where she’d look for it. She could’ve bought a cast iron frying pan, but she might as well grab one from the kitchen. The ideas of what they might be able to do had quickly fallen apart when she’d realized what was actually feasible. “It’s better than nothing.”

“What about garlic?”

“For a ghost?”

“You said he wasn’t a ghost.”

“Close enough to a ghost. And, anyway, there should be some in the kitchen. We can always chop up a couple of cloves and see if it does anything.” If it didn’t, and they didn’t waste it, they could always throw it into hamburger meat or make garlic bread. “How long has he been here? The kid?”

“Just a couple of minutes,” Soos allowed, “but this isn’t the first time the kids have met him.”

Wendy closed her eyes. “I know, I just…. I’d hoped they wouldn’t realize he wasn’t normal.” More to the point, she’d hoped that he wouldn’t come back. What the hell did he want, anyway? Sure, he’d said something about fixing whatever was wrong, but their ideas about what needed fixing weren’t likely the same.

“They might not. He was pretending to be normal when he talked to me.”

“He talked to you?”

“Just to ask after Dipper and Mabel.”

Wendy frowned. Soos didn’t sound too optimistic that Mabel and Dipper wouldn’t realize there was something weird about the kid, and frankly, she thought he was right. Mabel might be more forgiving, but Dipper…. “We’ll play it cool. Keep doing whatever you were doing. Try to keep an eye on them without being too obvious about it. I’ll prepare the fire pit.”

“The wood, campfire forks, hot dogs, marshmallows—?”

His gaze had wandered pointedly down to the box of salt pressing against the white plastic bag she carried, its blue label clearly visible. “Yeah. I won’t ring it thickly enough that it’s noticeable, especially since it’ll have to be in the gravel where nothing’s growing anyway, but if he’s going to pretend to be normal, then we’ll see how long he can keep that up.”

“And if he’s not affected by the salt?”

“We cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“And if we’re wrong and he is normal after all?”

Wendy snorted. “If he’s normal, he’s only normal for here.” She saw Soos shift uncomfortably and added, “If Stan comes back before I’m finished, give him the pitch about taking measures to ghost-proof the Mystery Shack and advertising doing that because it’s haunted. He’ll know how to get more of what we need, even if he doesn’t think it’ll do anything.”

“What if he’s not bad? The kid, I mean. Not everything is bad. Not everyone is bad.”

The kid had claimed he wasn’t a threat. He’d said he was stuck, that he just wanted to go home, that he had to fix something, not break it. What if it hadn’t been a lie? She didn’t see how his sneaking around could mean his intentions were honourable, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t missing something.

On the other hand, if he were simply determined to show a friendly face to the twins to get them to lower their guard, only to strike once he’d fooled them—

Wendy wasn’t sure if she wanted to take that risk. Having a healthy amount of suspicion now and apologizing later sounded much better to her than being overly trusting and being burned—especially if she wouldn’t be the only one caught in that fire. She and Soos had lived their entire lives here. Mabel and Dipper had not. They might not yet appreciate the degree to which not everything was as it appeared.

“You don’t need to be ready to attack,” Wendy finally said. “You just need to be ready to defend.” Soos nodded, maybe thinking her words were for both of them, but they weren’t. She had no intentions of simply being ready to defend. She wasn’t about to attack unprovoked, but if this kid did anything that set off alarm bells for her, she’d act on her gut. She trusted her gut more than her head. It was reliable in these sorts of situations.

The trouble was, her gut should have made a call on this already. Instead, she was still conflicted, and more time to mull it over on her trip into town hadn’t helped. Part of her still wanted to take the kid’s words at face value, but the little she’d seen of what he could do backed up the part of her that insisted he was far too dangerous to blindly trust. Soos wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but there was so much that could seem innocuous at first….

The knowledge that Soos was right and they had no idea if salt would actually help defend them didn’t make this any easier—especially when Danny was clearly interested in Mabel and Dipper. Soos had mentioned Dipper having a book, and she remembered seeing glimpses of it before. If that’s what the kid was interested in, how was she supposed to help Dipper and Mabel protect it while still protecting them?

Salt first. Purifying fire and questions later, if the kid decided to stick around for it. As long as he wasn’t hurting her friends, she was willing to give him a shovel and see how deep he dug.

XXXXXXX

Danny didn’t see the journal around, but Dipper apparently didn’t need it to draw his magic circle thing in the dirt. To be fair, Danny didn’t know if it was the same one as before, but he also didn’t want to find out. Which meant taking the initiative and trying to explain before they decided to pull more magic stuff on him.

“Please don’t do whatever you’re planning on doing,” he said, keeping his voice low in the hope that the guy he’d been talking to earlier wouldn’t hear it. “I just want to talk, I swear.”

“Are you ready to explain now?”

That was Dipper, with a bite in his voice that reminded Danny a bit of Valerie. Dipper might not sound even half as malicious as Valerie could when she was spitting curses at Phantom, but he was appropriately wary. “Yeah. But you have to promise you won’t try any magic stuff.”

“No. You’re not defenseless, and I’m not swearing away my ability to protect anyone.”

Oh. Right. He might think that particular promise carried more weight than a regular promise. He seemed to think giving his word would make it impossible to break. Danny didn’t know of any ghosts with that power, and frankly he didn’t want to meet one who had it. “You don’t have to. I just…. I promise I’m not here to hurt you or anyone else. I only want to talk. And not, y’know, risk being exorcised if you don’t believe me.”

Mabel looked from Danny to her brother and raised an eyebrow. He scowled at her but said, “Fine. If you don’t do anything except tell us the truth right now, I won’t try to exorcise you.”

Not ideal, but it wasn’t like Danny was planning on lying through his teeth to them, anyway—or that he couldn’t still attempt a lie if he felt he needed to. He had a feeling it wouldn’t work, though. He hadn’t had a whole lot of luck earlier. Maybe seeing through that thing was a kind of survival instinct around here, just like Secret Lab Guy had said.

Come to that, though— How had he had an entire conversation with someone, spilled half his life story to that someone, and not actually gotten their name?

Whatever. He’d ask later if he didn’t figure it out before then. It just proved the point, though. These people were good. Sharper than he was used to, unless almost everyone in Amity Park had already figured out his secret and was just being nice and waiting for him to make some kind of grand announcement.

Yeah, right. If Amity Park’s continued obliviousness wasn’t natural, then Vlad had done something. Not something Danny would thank him for, exactly, but something he wouldn’t fault him for, either.

“Thanks. Can I sit?” There weren’t chairs. There weren’t even logs. Dipper would be able to tell that he was staring at the circle drawn in the dirt, though, and know the question for what it was.

Mabel reached out one foot and drew a line through it with the toe of her shoe. “Yup!” she said, dropping down in place. “Pull up some grass.”

Dipper glared at her as Danny sat down on a patch that was more gravel than grass, but the other boy didn’t say anything; he just settled down and looked like he’d be ready to grab the axe beside him at a moment’s notice. Danny didn’t really want to find out if he knew how to use it. Then again, going by the assorted sizes of split logs nearby, he wasn’t overly skilled; even if it wasn’t a normal axe that Danny could avoid with intangibility, there was a good chance that Dipper was clumsy enough with it that he’d be easy enough to avoid.

“I’m sorry about not being entirely straight with you earlier when I said I would be.” Danny didn’t know where to begin, but an apology seemed smart when he still wanted their help.

“Which time, Phantom?”

Well, at least there wasn’t any lingering doubt. Danny sucked in a breath and let it out slowly to give himself a bit of time to think. Mabel looked ready to listen, but Dipper…. He still wasn’t sure about Dipper. “This isn’t exactly something I tend to tell strangers,” Danny said slowly, “but you’re right. I’m Phantom. I’m the one you let out of the thermos.”

Dipper was still practicing his glare, but Mabel asked, “So what are you? You’re not a ghost. We’ve seen ghosts.”

“I’m still a ghost,” Danny said, since as far as he knew, that was true. “Just…part ghost. Part human.” He rubbed the back of his neck and offered them a smile. “Remember when I joked about being the poster boy for interdimensional safety?”

“You expect us to believe you were in some sort of accident,” Dipper said flatly.

They didn’t need to know all the details, but— “Yeah. Lab accident. It didn’t kill me, or at least I don’t think it did, but I did get ghost powers, so that’s cool. Not something I’d recommend to anyone, but cool.”

Okay, Dipper definitely didn’t believe that, but Mabel nodded as if Danny had said something normal and not what probably sounded insane. “Why were you in the thermos?”

“Clockwork, I think. He’s the one who gave me the message to warn you in the first place, remember? Also the one who likes to pretend he doesn’t interfere but interferes like this. I thought it was Vlad, until I…until I realized how long it had been. And, no, before you ask, I don’t know who wrote that journal. I wasn’t lying about that. The only important bit I lied about was ‘Danny Fenton’ being a friend.”

“Why fess up now?” Dipper’s question was a challenge, sure, but Danny could hear the genuine curiosity behind it. Chance were, he wasn’t a great liar, either.

“Because I might need your help to get home. Especially if that help involves you trusting me enough to let me help you and you not trying to kill me first.”

“What were you looking for earlier?” Danny blinked, trying to figure out what that meant, and Dipper must have read that confusion on his face because he elaborated, “Mabel heard you. We know you were back before you showed yourself now.”

Right. She had been in the gift shop area, hadn’t she? “I was trying to find some clue about what else I’m supposed to do here.”

“And?”

That meant did you find it? Danny might’ve promised them the truth, but he’d also promised the other guy that he wouldn’t blow that secret, either. More or less. Hopefully that wasn’t what he was supposed to do here? “There’s something weird about this place,” he said instead. “It’s got this…feeling. I don’t know how to describe it.” It was something unnerving, like the feeling the Fright Knight could give you, but with more…. More I’m-watching-you vibes. Vlad times a hundred. If he didn’t need to stick around to get home, he’d be gone by now. Whatever Clockwork was trying to warn these guys away from, it felt like a danger on par with Pariah Dark.

Not that he’d be able to explain that to them.

Mabel reached over to poke Dipper in the arm. “Show him the journal.”

That would make things a lot easier for him. “I could tell you what it has wrong about ghosts. Or at least about me,” he offered. He wanted to do that regardless, but if he could give them more reason to show him, well….

“It seems to be right about you,” Dipper said, “unless you want to pretend that you’ve never been affected by anything we’ve done.”

Danny blew out a breath. “Look. Being part ghost doesn’t mean I’m exempt from everything that works on ghosts. It also means that I need to be careful around hunters, including you guys. But I’m not here to fight you or steal something or whatever your book says about me. I’m the good guy, I swear.”

“The good guy. Who needs his own little dedicated section in the journal.”

“Dedicated section?” That sounded worrisome. How much info did these guys have on him? Some of it had to be accurate, but if it was just full of things he’d done as a ghost with no context, like the stealing—

“More like a paragraph,” Mabel interrupted, “and it’s not even in the same language as the rest of it.”

Wait.

“Not the same language? What language is it?”

“See for yourself,” Mabel said. She elbowed Dipper when he didn’t immediately produce the journal and offer it up and then hissed a few things in his ear for good measure, which finally seemed to convince him. He pulled the journal out from beneath the vest he’d been wearing earlier, flipped through to the right page, and turned it around to show Danny.

Danny leaned closer, but he didn’t recognize the language, either. If it was something ghosts spoke, he’d never seen it written down, but aside from Wulf, most of the ghosts he’d met spoke English. He didn’t know how many other languages they spoke, though. He’d never asked. If this was some common language he had yet to learn….

“It might be the way it’s coded,” Dipper admitted, “instead of actually being in a different language. Some passages in the journal are coded, but they’re all the same code, except for this. I haven’t had any luck cracking it.”

Danny frowned, reading the page over before Dipper could take it away. He couldn’t see anything about a thermos or anything else that would have led them to him in the first place, but there was a bit of gibberish above that section written in green ink that might be the first code—

Wait. Green ink? Everything else in here was black or blue or some kind of brown that Danny really hoped wasn’t blood. “What else is written in this colour?” he asked, pointing to the passage.

“That’s it.”

“In the entire book?” That didn’t make sense. “But…why?”

“When I find the author of the journals,” Dipper said bluntly, “that won’t be one of the first questions I ask.”

“It won’t even be one of the first hundred,” Mabel added. “Dipper’s never understood the importance of colour.”

To be fair, it wasn’t typically high on Danny’s list of priorities, either, but this colour thing was definitely strange. How many other weird things were in that book if this didn’t make the list?

“Does it mean something to you?” Mabel asked.

Danny hesitated. The fact that it happened to be the same colour as his eyes—or his ectoplasm—in ghost mode could be a coincidence, but things tended to be a lot less coincidental when Clockwork was involved. Danny wasn’t really ready to bet that whoever had written this journal had simply run out of every other colour of pen that day. “Maybe,” he admitted, “but only in that it might point toward me.” Or another ghost like him. Hopefully not Danielle.

“So do you know who wrote it?” she prompted.

He shook his head. “I don’t know the handwriting. That’s not saying much, though. There are a lot of people—and ghosts—I know whose handwriting I’d never recognize.” He wasn’t even sure he’d recognize the Ghost Writer’s handwriting. “What does the other part say about me?”

“That something was stuck in a thermos behind the shack,” Mabel answered immediately, ignoring her brother’s glare. “Which it was.”

“It’s a Fenton Thermos, something specifically designed to contain ghosts. My parents build them.” If he wasn’t trying to keep his secret anymore, there was no harm in admitting that. “They’re paranormal scientists and inventors.”

“Like the author of the journal is,” Mabel said, shooting Dipper a pointed look. “That must be why the bit about the thermos is in there.”

“Not— I mean, I’m not thirty years old. Seriously. Do I look that old to you? I just turned fifteen last week.” Well. Last week for him. Not for whenever this was, five years in his future. “Me being in the thermos is Clockwork’s fault.” Probably. Except Clockwork wouldn’t have needed to catch him in a thermos to force him back here; he could’ve simply asked and called in a favour if Danny had complained, which he would’ve. More likely, Clockwork had merely taken advantage of someone else capturing him in a thermos, and that list of possibilities was long—and included more than one ally, even when the capturing was intentional.

“I don’t know all the details, okay? I just…. I haven’t met a ghost besides Clockwork that messes with time.” His evil future self didn’t count, not when Clockwork’s power had still been the vehicle for everything he’d done.

…Danny really hoped this had nothing to do with him. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t appreciate the thermos parallels.

Of course, now that he thought about it, the fact that he’d been stuck in a thermos had to be deliberate. Sure, it was a way to skirt the notice of the Observants, but Clockwork had messed with the timeline before without doing anything sneaky like that. If the thermos was important…. Coupled with the fact that there was a portal being built beneath a place called the Mystery Shack….

“That’s why I’m here.”

“You care to share with the class?” Dipper asked.

“The thermos, the portal—”

“What portal?”

Oops. “The, y’know, whatever, it doesn’t matter, the point is, you said the author of the journals was a paranormal scientist? Maybe an inventor, too?”

“No, no, don’t change the subject. What portal?”

“Like a portal to another dimension?” Mabel queried. “Is that why you talked about interdimensional safety earlier?”

Oh, crud. They weren’t going to let his slip about the portal go. So much for that secret. “Just…never mind that right now. Paranormal scientist. Inventor. Like my parents. He probably didn’t know them, it would’ve been too early on for them to have made a name for themselves, they might not even have been together yet, but…. Okay. This is gonna sound crazy—”

“Crazier than everything else you’ve said?” Dipper asked dryly.

“—but just go with me on this. Please. I know what happened when my parents messed stuff up, and—”

“And you’re warning us so we’re prepared and more careful,” Mabel finished. “So I don’t get impatient and Dipper doesn’t get complacent.”

Danny frowned. “What?”

“Your warning,” she repeated. “You’re not trying to get us to stop what we’re doing. It’s a terrible warning for that. That kind of thing just makes you wanna do it more, whatever it is. So you’re actually warning us to be more careful than you think we would be otherwise.”

Danny opened his mouth to tell her that warning someone not to do something obviously meant they shouldn’t do it, and then he remembered all the times his parents had warned him not to touch stuff in the lab.

Right.

Maybe she wasn’t wrong.

Just because that was what a warning meant, didn’t mean it would always have the desired effect.

Moreover, Clockwork would know exactly what to have Danny say to get the desired effect.

He’d thought he’d come to help with the portal, but he still didn’t know the blueprints of his parents’ portal as well as Tucker did. If this were just about helping them build or fix the portal in the basement without bad consequences, Tucker was a better choice than he was, and Clockwork could most definitely have arranged that.

But Danny had joked about being the poster boy for interdimensional safety, and he could still disassemble and reassemble most of his parents’ weapons in order to tweak them, even if he wasn’t as good at it as Tucker, and he’d be an idiot to keep ignoring the fact that Clockwork had made sure he had a thermos here.

The thermos wasn’t for him. It had never been for him. It had contained him, sure, but Clockwork must’ve made sure he was stuck in one so that he’d think of this. So that he’d think of what they’d done with his evil future self. And so he’d have it when he needed it.

There was a portal in a secret lab in the basement of the Mystery Shack, and the thermos written about in Dipper’s journal was for whatever was coming out of it.

(see more fics | next)

#gravity falls #danny phantom #phantom falls #crossover #fanfiction #gf fanfiction #dp fanfiction #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #crossover snippet #gf snippet #dp snippet

39 notes · View notes

waywardnerd67 · 4 years

Text

Sweet Slice

Title: Sweet Slice Summary: (Y/N) is new to Lebanon escaping the big city life when she gets a job at a local bakery. Things get complicated when her past returns and her boss gets in the middle. Pairing: Dean x Reader Rating: E - Everyone Warnings: Angst/Fluff Word Count: 2173 Squared Filled: Baker!Dean Bingo Card: @spnaubingo A/N: The sandwiches described are from the grocery store my mom works at. They can be found at http://www.straubs.com/category/sandwiches

Check Out: SPN AU Bingo Masterlist

Staring out over the horizon, (Y/N) watched as the sun peeked over rising into the dark sky. Black and navy faded into beautiful pinks and reds as a sign of a new day. Breathing in the cool morning air, she threw up a few silent thank yous to whatever higher being was listening to her. Grateful for a new day, a new start and a new life for her. Carefully standing on the rooftop, she climbed back in through her single window and started mapping out her day.

(Y/N) had only lived in Lebanon, Kansas for three weeks. Finding a studio apartment above the only bakery in town that was owned by the handsome Dean Winchester. She gave him almost all her savings for the first month's rent and went in search of work. In a town of only two hundred-fifty people finding a job was harder than she expected. Until last week, when she approached Dean about the next month’s rent and offered her a job on the spot.

Now, as she pulled the hair out of her face and wrapped a red bandana over it (Y/N) headed downstairs for her first day at Sweet Slice. Approaching the kitchen entrance she could hear Led Zeppelin playing through the store speakers and pans clanging against one another.

“Morning boss.”

He looked over his shoulder a wide smile spreading across his face, “Good morning, let me get this pie in the oven and then I will give you your mission for the day.”

(Y/N) chuckled watching as he finished the pie he was working on. No one would ever believe from looking at Dean that he was a baker. His broad shoulders, muscular arms gave off the impression he was a tough guy. There were a few scars on his forearms she could see from the sleeves of his flannel being rolled up to his elbows. His large hands and thick fingers were the most deceiving as they gently and delicately handled creating the lattice pie crust on top.

“Ready?”

His husky voice brought her out of her daydream as she nodded following him to the other side of the kitchen. On the long table were various deli meats and cheeses along with a variety of breads then seemed to be freshly baked.

“I’ve always had this idea of not only offering specialty pies and baked goods but also to have a lunch hour with sandwiches on some of our breads. Today, I was you to just come up with some sandwiches for the menu and I’m going to taste test them for lunch.”

She smirked, “So basically you want me to make you a sammich?”

His laughter was infectious filling her body with a joy she hadn’t felt in a long time, “Yeah, I guess so. One of the perks for being the boss. If you need anything just holler at me.”

(Y/N) grabbed the pencil and paper on the table and started writing down some ideas she had. Sandwiches were something she knew all about being from New York. As a teenager she had worked at her local deli making sandwiches and giving the old mob men trouble as they flirted with her. The memory sent a chill down her spine. It was in that deli shop she had met Wyatt and her life changed forever.

Shaking her head, she went back to her list of sandwiches and began constructing them. A few of them, she had to have Dean bake up a few hoagie rolls because regular bread would not be right for them. By noon, she had assembled six different sandwiches for them to enjoy. She waited to garnish them until right before they sat down to eat. Dean had taken his flannel off wiping the sweat from his face from being near the oven.

His eyes widened as they glanced over the sandwiches plated in front of him, “These look awesome and I’m starving. Let’s dive in.”

The first sandwich was an Italian Sub that was on a fresh hoagie roll, spread with a mayo mustard blend and topped with salami, top round roast beef, baked and glazed ham, provel, dill pickle, onion, pepperoncinis and shredded lettuce. The noises coming from Dean as he devoured his half made her cheeks burn.

The next couple of sandwiches were simple ones with meat, cheese and simple lettuce, tomato, pickle toppings that could be offered cold or warm. The fifth sandwich was one her grandmother made for her every Sunday. Layers of baked and glazed ham, hard salami, mortadella, and provel topped with an olive Italian dressing blend on fresh baked focaccia bread.

“Now that sandwich sent my taste buds on an adventure. Whew!” He chuckled, finishing the last bite.

The final sandwich was her take on a grilled cheese sandwich. She had called it The Cure All making it whenever she had a particularly bad time of the month or a wicked hangover. On sourdough she placed two slices of cheddar, a layer of jalapenos, two slices of american, a layer of bacon, topped with caramelized onions.

Dean admired the sandwich for a moment before taking a large bite from it. His olive eyes rolled back as he closed them chewing slowly. She watched as he swallowed the bite and his full lips pursed together blowing out a gush of air.

“Wow, I think that may be the perfect sandwich and our signature sandwich to kick off a lunch special.”

Her cheeks were aching from smiling, “I guess I can add sandwich creator to my severely lacking resume.”

“If I have my way, you will never need a resume again and stay with me forever.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth a few things happened all at once. Their eyes snapped up connecting immediately. Her heart leaped within her chest with a bright, burning hope she has not felt in a long time. While Dean’s cheeks flushed crimson.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean… not that I wouldn’t want to be with… um. Crap.” He put his head in his hands, “All I’m saying is you’re amazing and wonderful for what I have gotten to know of you these last few weeks. I think we would work great with one another.”

There was something deep within urging for her to reach out to him and after five years of being with someone who only pretended to care for her and use her she had kept herself guarded. Looking into Dean’s eyes, she could see the kind of man he was. The kind of man to sacrifice himself for the ones he loves. The kind of man to go out of his way to care for someone. The kind of man that would protect those closest to him fiercely and without regard to his own well being.

(Y/N) reached across the table placing her hand on top of his, “There is nowhere else I’d rather be than right here with you.”

It was in that moment that everything changed for them. They became partners in every way they could in their lives. Sharing the business together, his home together, building a life together over the next year. Until her past caught up to her in the little bakery in Lebanon.

It was a normal Tuesday as Dean and (Y/N) prepared for their normal lunch hour. Their business doubled from them adding a sandwich and slice combo. Some of their normal morning customers had picked up a pie or two for that evening so when the bell rang signaling another customer, (Y/N) thought nothing of it walking to the front counter.

“There you are my sweetness. I’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

She froze in her spot, the familiar raspy voice knocking the wind out of her. Looking up, standing in the middle of the empty bakery and locking the front door was the man of her nightmares. Standing nearly a foot taller than her, his jet black hair was slicked back and dark brown eyes narrowing in on her.

“H-How did you…” The words would not come out as fear struck her mind instinctively backing up towards the door leading into the kitchen.

His menacing smile spread wider, “You know I have my ways. You know when I want something I get it. No matter what.” He took two steps towards her as he spoke.

The same desperate fight or flight feeling kicked in pushing her feet towards the kitchen yelling, “DEAN!”

Before she made it two feet through the door a pair of thick, leather covered arms wrapped around her waist. She let out a piercing scream before Wyatt clamp his hand over her mouth. He walked them back through the door holding her tightly against his body where she could not kick or push herself away.

“You’ve always been weak and pathetic, but that’s how I like my women. You can’t fight me.” He snarled into her ear.

“But I can.”

She looked up wide eyed as Dean appeared in front of them stepping through the door. He was holding up a large iron skillet never once taking his eyes off of Wyatt.

“Put (Y/N) down now.” His jaw clenched as he spun the skillet in his hand.

Wyatt laughed pushing her into the front case. She cried out as shards of thick glass sliced and embedded themselves into her skin. She glanced up just in time to roll herself over the glass that had shattered as Wyatt’s large body flew back towards her. Crimson filled her vision as she looked down to the floor. Bile burned up her throat as the sickening cracking of breaking bones echoed throughout the room. Her vision darkened as the last thing she saw was the door crashing open.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Every inch of (Y/N)’s body throbbed. She could hardly lift her eyelids, her vision blurry from exhaustion and her glasses missing. Trying to speak, she coughed and a large hand engulfed hers. Instinctively, she flinched pulling it away. Squeezing her eyes shut terrified she would see Wyatt sitting beside her.

“(Y/N), you’re okay. You’re safe.”

Her eyes snapped open tears freely flowing down her face, “D-Dean…” she croaked.

“Shhh. Don’t try to speak until you’ve had some ice chips.” He stood grabbing a cup and feeding her some ice, “After Sam and I took care of Wyatt, we had to rush you to the hospital. You lost a lot of blood and one large piece of glass embedded itself into your back.”

Dean became quiet looking down at their hands clasped together, “W-What hap-pen?” she whispered, eating some more ice and the cold soothing her burning throat.

She was surprised to see his eyes shining with tears, “We almost lost you and…” he looked away from her wiping his eyes.

“And what, Dean?” Her stomach churned and knotted a thousand thoughts running through her mind.

“And it wrecked me. I didn’t want to imagine life without you and when I did it gutted me.”

(Y/N) reached up wiping the few wayward tears from his cheek, “I’m right here because of you. Thank you.”

Her hand slipped down to his chest gripping his shirt and pulling him towards her. Every move she made was agonizing but worth it as his lips pressed against hers.

“I will always be here for you.” He whispered as she nodded her forehead resting against his.

Lying back she asked, “What happened to Wyatt?”

A low growl escaped Dean’s lips, “He and his buddy are currently in a cell hopefully getting to know their new roommates intimately.”

She wanted to know everything, but exhaustion was consuming her. Her eyes closing as Dean sat beside her on the bed humming her favorite Zeppelin song and lulling her to sleep.

Over the next several months, between her physical recovery and mental anguish as she relive her life with Wyatt to detectives and lawyers. (Y/N) slowly started getting her life back to normal. Dean accompanied her to New York where Wyatt and his goons were all put on trial for what they had done to her. After the guilty verdict was read, (Y/N) felt a great weight lift from her shoulders finally feeling free to live her life in peace.

When they arrived back in Lebanon, they noticed the vacant building across from the bakery had been sold and a new sign was being lifted into the air to attach to the store front. As the tarp fell to the ground, they both stared up completely stunned at what they saw.

The sign had a cake with a halo above it that read Angel Cakes Bakery. A tall, dark hair man stood admiring the sign before glancing over to them. He gave a small wave walking back into the building while (Y/N) looked over to Dean.

His jaw set in a strong line before muttering, “Son of a bitch…”

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

For updates please follow #waywardnerd67fics

#spnaubingo #waywardnerd67fics #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #au #fluff #angst

43 notes · View notes