#I just realized that Espresso is the tallest | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nikethestatue · 3 years

Text

La Dolce Vita

Summary: Elain Archeron and Azriel - in love, in lust, in Italy

Modern AU *slight TOG crossover. If you read my stuff, you know it’s LONG

Warnings: bad language and THIS IS NSFW (not kidding, this is a story, not just sex, but there is a LOT of explicit material here. You can still read the story, but if you are sensitive or underage, skip the naughty bits)

Comments are always appreciated/wanted/needed. Anon or not, just do it! Obviously, reblogs are appreciated.

Part I (Flowers)

La Vie En Rose

De l'homme auquel j'appartiens (Of the man to whom I belong) Quand il me prend dans ses bras Il me parle l'a tout bas (He speaks to me softly) Je vois la vie en rose (And I see life in pink) Il me dit des mots d'amour (He speaks words of love to me) Des mots de tous les jours (They are every day words) Et ça m' fait quelque chose (And they do something to me) Il est entré dans mon coeur (He has entered into my heart) Une part de bonheur (A bit of happiness) Dont je connais la cause (That I know the cause of) C'est lui pour moi (It's only him for me) Moi pour lui dans la vie (And me for him, for life)

Now

Riding in a Ferrari, being enveloped in its supple, buttery leather, gulping in the cypress and cedar-scented air of Tuscany was everything that Elain Archeron had ever wanted. She never knew that this is what she wanted, because riding in very fast, very expensive, sleek Italian cars wasn’t on her ‘fantasy radar’, but now that she was in one, she suddenly came to the realization that this was perhaps one of the best experiences of her life.

The whole thing, so far, has been the best experience of her life.

Well…maybe not the best-best.

Her happiness was deeply intertwined with and caused by the man in the driver seat of the said Ferrari—Azriel. Azriel Archeron, as he loved calling himself. Even if this wasn’t his last name, he preferred using it over his family name, for a variety of personal reasons. There was nothing better, more sublime, more beautiful and more loving than Azriel. The perfect male specimen, if she could say so herself. No one would argue with her assessment either.

Elain

They were introduced by her sister’s then-boyfriend Cass, who was giving her a lift one afternoon, and then suggested that they stop by Azriel’s car atelier, because he needed to pick something up.

Elain’s heard of the mysterious Azriel from her sisters, both of whom had claimed that he was the most handsome man that either one of them had ever seen. Elain chuckled at the exuberant praise, doubting its truthfulness. There was no such thing as the ‘most handsome’ man. Beauty was in the eyes of the beholder.

She wasn’t sure what a car atelier was, and when Cassian pulled up to a modern-looking building, she said that she’d stay in the car and wait.

“Come on, petal, don’t be shy,” Cassian urged her, holding the car door open for her in a way that indicated that she’d have to get out and follow him.

They entered the foyer, a vast space with racing stripes painted on the polished cement floor, and a sea of model cars dropping from the ceiling. Behind a wall of glass, Elain spied a row of gorgeous cars, none of which were familiar to her. Some unique European models, fit for James Bond’s consumption. There were also neat antique cars, probably from the 50s. She immediately had visions of Grace Kelly and Cary Grant riding in one of these along the Riviera coast.

“What’s this place?” she inquired, looking around at the mid-century modern building that resembled a spaceship.

“This is Az’s baby,” Cass explained vaguely. “Conceived, conceptualized, restored, outfitted—all by the brilliant mind of one Azriel Bagarat.”

“Are you bragging?”

A deep, sensual voice, that could only be called ‘midnight’ sounded behind them, and Cassian’s handsome, tanned face broke in a mischievous smile. “Only about you, brother!”

When Elain turned around, her breath was knocked out from her lungs.

She didn’t know that it was possible, to be actually stunned by someone’s beauty, but there she stood, gaping, feeling the world slow and move in a different manner for a few moments.

Standing at a towering 6”4 or so, the man was at least as tall as Cassian, and Cassian was the tallest man Elain’d ever met. She was just as muscular, but not as bulky. Clad in all black, from expensive, well-tailored Diesel jeans, to a soft t-shirt that stretched over his sharply cut torso, emphasizing the thick muscles of his arms and shoulders, and the narrow waist, true to her sisters’ word, this Azriel was simply exquisite.

Cassian draped his heavy arm around her shoulders and nudged her forward, just a bit, and said,

“Petal, say hello! This is my brother, Azriel. Az, this is my soon-to-be-sister-in-law, the one and only Elain Archeron.”

At the words ‘sister-in-law’ Elain whipped her head to Cassian, who grinned maniacally at her, nodding and answering her silent question.

“When? What are you talking about?” she exclaimed, Azriel momentarily forgotten. “What do you mean? You’ve only been seeing each other for like three months?!?”

“Baby girl, I don’t need three years to decide…Nes is Nes and she is the one for me.”

He shrugged with his usual ease, acting like they were discussing the weather or a good burger that he just ate.

“If Nes hears even a whiff of this, I will know it’s you, petal, and well, I am not sure what I will do,” he decided upon reflection, but then pleaded, “please, don’t tell her. This one,” he nodded towards Azriel, who was standing still, green eyes peeled to Elain, “I can trust. He hardly ever talks,”

“That’s because you talk for all of us,” noted Azriel with a smirk.

Elain chuckled, and turned back to face him.

He extended his hand to her, with an odd, tentative movement, and when she looked down, she saw old, mottled scars that covered his palm and part of his wrist and forearm. A vintage Patek Phillipe on his wrist.

“Beautiful,” she murmured, and he gave her a surprised look, unsure of what she was referring to.

“It’s always a pleasure to meet another Archeron sister,” he said with a soft smile, which made Elain lose her ability to speak for a good few moments, because she was finally able to take in that face that defied description. The sharp cheekbones and the mesmerizing amber and emerald eyes, almond-shaped and slanted hinted at a varied heritage, and unfairly, the man also possessed a perfect nose, and a full, sensuous mouth. He was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome, with skin of burnished bronze, which was so in contrast to his bright eyes and raven-black hair, cut in a fashionable undercut. The physique, as she already noted, quickly skimming over the body, matched the face.

“Yes, me too,” she said stupidly.

Graceful, like a courtier, he offered her his arm and said,

“Would you like me to show you around?”

She didn’t want to be impolite, though she suddenly felt sweaty and nervous, and completely out of her league. But she threaded her hand through his arm and lightly squeezed the firm, alarmingly thick bicep.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

She wasn’t sure what she was thinking him for, so she added, “yes, I’d love to see it.”

“Why haven’t we met?” he inquired, those green eyes watching her with such intensity that she felt almost undressed, bared under the gaze. It wasn’t unpleasant, because it wasn’t lascivious, and he didn’t strike her as someone who’d be disrespectful to women.

“I’ve been busy for the past half a year,” she explained.

“Doing what?”

They walked down the wide passage, past all the cars, which Azriel pointed out with a wave of his scarred hand, and dropped names like Pagani, BMW I8, Bugatti Divo, Bugatti Centodieci, Lamborghini Veneto, Koenigsegg CCXR Trevita and so forth. Elain might not have known a ton about cars, but she was not so unaware not to know that a Bugatti and a Lambo were expensive cars.

Cassian fell behind, gawking at the display.

“I was opening my own business,” Elain said, her head thrown back, looking at an entire toy racetrack mounted to the ceiling, with cars zooming by, and somehow, not falling on patrons’ heads.

“What sort of business?”

“Flowers,” she said absently, once they reached another space—a two story-restaurant, bar, and a patio outside as well.

“Flowers?”

“Oh, a flower shop,” she explained at last. Then muttered, awed, “this is really incredible!”

“A car enthusiast?” he smirked.

She didn’t know how it happened, but somehow, her hand migrated from the crook of his arm to his hand, and now, they walked along the walls lined with Ferrari posters, memorabilia and expensive everything. Walking and holding hands.

“I wouldn’t call myself one,” she admitted, “but I find cars aesthetically pleasing…Never got to ride in anything fancier than a Mercedes or a Lexus,”

“Well, we should remedy that at once!” he decided easily and then said, “pick you up on Friday at seven?”

That sobered her up a bit and she turned to face him. They stopped at the long, chrome-lined bar, and he said, “An espresso?”

“Um,”

But before she could respond, he was behind the counter, playing with a very fancy coffee machine that required a PhD to operate with all the levers and hooks and buttons, and in a few minutes, he poured her a tiny cup of coffee, thick with natural foam, and heady with its enticing scent.

He chugged his own in one go and she followed him, gulping her espresso in two sips. It was better than anything she’d ever drunk in her life.

“Like a date?” she finally asked, truly confused by the offer.

“Would you like it to be a date?” he leaned on the bar, biceps flexing, his arms covered in tattoo sleeves that reached all the way to his fingers. They were quite beautiful, the tattoos, the placement and the design, and Elain recognized the style, since Cassian and Rhysand wore the same kinds of tattoos, if not so extensive.

“Did you draw these?” she asked bluntly, touching her finger to a thick snaking black line, which was shaded with cobalt.

He looked down, at her hand and his arm and nodded, following her finger with his eyes.

“I did. For the three of us. When we made Navy Seals,”

“You are a Seal, too?” she exclaimed.

He smiled and nodded, “Well, we all grew up in foster care—not all, Cass and I,”

“I heard,”

“Until Rhys’s parents adopted us. But we weren’t the…best of boys,” he chortled, “so to get our heads straight, we were sent to the Navy after school. We figured we’d only stay a bit, but we stayed for a while.”

“So, you are retired?”

“We are vets,”

“How old are you?” she blurted. Then blushed and said, “I am sorry. I am usually not so impolite,”

He laughed, “I figured. But that’s alright. I’ll tell you on Friday, though. If you don’t mind?”

“I mean, I don’t mind,” she murmured, her eyes dropping to her espresso cup, “but,”

“How about this—I take you on a drive in one of these fancy cars—and then you can brag to everyone that you’d driven in a,”

He paused and rubbed his chin,

“Any preference?”

“For what?”

“What car you’d like to go in?”

“I don’t know,”

“Throw something at me,” he urged, eyes glinting with feral delight.

Elain, blush deepening, finally said, “Do you have a Ferrari? I’ve always wanted to drive in a Ferrari.”

“Ahhh, a Ferrarista at heart!” he nodded with approval, folding his arms on his chest, “stick with the classic and the best. And yes, gorgeous, I do have a Ferrari or two.”

Gorgeous.

Azriel

The girl who’d arrived with Cassian, was not Nesta, but there was something vaguely familiar about her. The girl who’d arrived with Cassian was the most gorgeous creature that Azriel had ever seen. Gorgeous and completely unaware.

Women like her, if they were smart and cunning and ambitious, used their beauty for all things good and terrible. But this exquisite creature that Cassian was so blatantly hugging and teasing wasn’t one of those women. Azriel was all too familiar with the types—the maneaters, who hounded him like sharks. He was wealthy, and good-looking, and a decent person, if not exactly a saint. He hobnobbed with celebrities who came to order his cars, which he designed and outfitted based on their specifications and desires.

He was finnicky when it came to taste though. No matter how much rappers asked him to clad their Maybach in gold or some vapid Gucci print, no matter how many heiresses pouted and asked for a bubblegum or Barbie-pink Ferraris, he did not betray the essence and soul of the vehicle. Modify, define, sharpen, stylize—he did it all with precision and skill which was unparalleled. But Azriel Bagarat was known for rejecting even the juiciest of offers, if the request did not coincide with his aesthetic or the history of the car.

He was at his shop—that’s what he called it, though atelier sounded infinitely better and more expensive—that afternoon, knowing that Cassian was going to drop by and select a car for his grandiose proposal to Nesta. There was some concern that Cassian would not fit his 6”5 form into an Aston Martin or a Bentley, so they needed to make sure that the car was appropriate for the occasion and the occupant. Cass insisted on a British vehicle, feeling that Nesta would like something classic and timeless. So be it.

What Azriel did not expect to see that Tuesday afternoon was a girl--because he hesitated to call her a ‘woman’, since she looked so lovely and perfect and innocent--who took his breath away.

His breath had been taken away only once before, by Rhys’s cousin, who strolled like a ray of sunshine into their broken lives.

However, Morrigan chose Cassian. And then Cassian promptly impregnated her, causing a great discontent and strife between everyone. Morrigan, or rather Morgana d’Adda, though she anglicized her name, even if Morrigan d’Adda sounded funny, was just about disavowed by her family for tumbling, and being so stupid and blind as to get knocked up by a hulking nobody mulatto, as her father Keir called Cassian. Rather, sneered, at Cassian.

Even if Azriel didn’t impregnate anybody, he somehow got looped into the family bullshit and once he and Cassian turned 18, they were both shipped off to the navy. To the dismay of the entire Darling clan, Rhys followed them, tossing away his guaranteed admittance to Brown. An Ivy League school for rich stupid heirs. Only Rhys wasn’t stupid. Neither was Cassian a hulking nobody mulatto. And Azriel wasn’t just the ‘fucking weird kid, who might be a serial killer’. They served and they passed the insane Navy Seal training, and they proved themselves.

Nowadays, Cassian now ran security for the Darling conglomerate, while Rhys took over the reins when his father was killed in a car accident. Azriel found his own path, though the association with the Darling name certainly helped his exposure and in building relationships and meeting all the right people. And meeting all the women. The three brothers had gone through their share of wild times, but in the past 3 years, things began to calm down for them.

It began with Rhys meeting Feyre Archeron at an art gallery, where she was exhibiting some of her pieces. Azriel had tugged along with Rhys to see the exhibit, because Rhys was looking for some art for his new office, and he trusted Azriel’s taste and knowledge, and wanted a second pair of eyes.

Rhys followed Feyre like a dog throughout the evening—Azriel was there to witness the pathetic display—and then they ended up at a bar, doing shots and feeding Feyre virgin Cosmos, since she wasn’t even 21 yet. They went to some dance club, Azriel playing the third-wheel and ‘chaperone’, though by the end of the night, Rhys and Feyre disappeared together and weren’t heard from for the next three days.

… “What if he killed her?” proposed Cassian for 100th time, pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his long black hair. “Or what if she killed him?”

“I thought that I was the serial killer among the three of us,” drawled Azriel, sprawled on a sofa, watching a game. He wasn’t as concerned, having seen Rhys dripping with intense lust at the sight of the brown-haired teen. It was unusual, since at that time Rhys was almost 25, and Feyre only 19, and the three of them typically tried to avoid teenagers like the plague. But Rhysand Darling seemed genuinely enthralled.

“No, you are the guy with the sex dungeon,” corrected Cassian.

Azriel rolled his eyes, “serial killer with a sex dungeon, huh? Sounds like an interesting story. Alas, much as I’d like to, I don’t have a sex dungeon.”

“Aren’t you building one? In that new garage of yours?” Cassian shrugged.

“Only cars. No sex toys,” sighed Azriel, looking like that might have been an omission on his part.

“Gents, I think I am in love!” the door burst open and a wild-eyed Rhys appeared, his normally pristine hair in disarray, his cheeks flushed, wearing only a white t-shirt and jeans.

“Where the fuck were you for three days?” growled Cassian, showing considerable relief at the sight of his brother.

“Falling in love,” crooned Rhys, falling into a chair, a stupid, dazed look on his face.

“You look like Audrey Hepburn in ‘Sabrina’,” noted Azriel.

“I feel like Audrey Hepburn!” exclaimed Rhys. “She is perfect. Feyre is perfect.”

What the fuck? Mouthed Cassian in confusion.

“Feyre Darling,” whispered Rhys with delight, eyes closed, tasting the sound of the name on his tongue. “Feyre Archeron Darling. Or Feyre Darling Archeron?”

“You alright there, buddy?” Cassian frowned. “A little early to be talking last names?”

“She’ll be my wife,” announced Rhysand with his usually unwavering confidence.

And that was that.

Now, the ‘society wedding of the year’ was coming up in three months. Rhysand Darling and Feyre Archeron, the toast of the town, the power couple, the young and beautiful billionaires.

Now, Azriel stood in front of the most stunning female he’d ever seen and for once, he felt like Rhys. His brain turned into a soupy mess, and he found himself tongue-tied and concentrating was suddenly difficult. He wanted to be a gracious host and a confident, formidable man, who had a reputation to uphold—though he wasn��t sure if Elain was aware of his reputation—but inside, he was a mess. All his insecurities, doubts and self-hate rose to the surface at once, and he hesitated to extend his hand in greeting to her. His mangled, horrible, revolting hand, which was sullied beyond its extensive scars. A hand that killed, and touched way too women, some of whom he probably shouldn’t have been touching at all.

“Beautiful,” she murmured softly, that gorgeous blush spreading over her rose-petal cheeks.

He was so taken aback by the comment, he was nearly flabbergasted when she didn’t pull away, didn’t frown or grimace in disgust, didn’t display any of the usual signs of revulsion that most women did when they saw his hands. Perhaps it was the Patek Phillipe, he tried to convince himself, but deep down he knew—she called his scars ‘beautiful’.

And then she took his arm, her hand strong, surprisingly calloused, if light, and small.

And from that moment on, Azriel became obsessed with that touch.

His body heated and as he led her to the bar, and showed her around his pride and joy, watching for the subtle reactions, for the gleam of wonder and appreciation in her eyes, he couldn’t release…wouldn’t release her hand from his. She asked questions, took in all the memorabilia and gawked at the cars, and then the guest area, and finally, when he sat her down at the bar and made her a coffee, he stepped closer. Trying not to scare her, or seem obnoxious, he couldn’t help invading her personal space, and stood next to her, pretending to take interest in his drink, while hoping that her arm would brush against his own. Skin to skin.

She didn’t pull away. Didn’t shy away.

He didn’t expect himself to ask her on what amounted to a date, because he wasn’t even sure how dates worked. His usual ammo consisted of a brief introduction, an even quicker seduction and then a hook up. That’s how he liked it. He preferred no-strings-attached approach to his involvement with women, and it’s been working rather well for him. He never had to sleep with anyone in the same bed, he never had to make anyone breakfast, there was no room for idle chitchat, and usually no second or third dates. It was so easy.

This fucking girl, with her caramel-brown eyes, her golden-amber curls, her soft lips and that damn blush on her cheeks—she was driving him veritably insane with her unique mix of immaculate beauty and a friendly, almost naïve, strangely innocent disposition. And he wanted to go on a date with her. Without an ulterior motive, because at it stood right now, he didn’t care to even get her in bed. That would come later. He was absolutely determined to have this happen later. But…later.

Cassian

“Alrighty, I think I am going with the Bentley,” Cassian sidled to the bar, and interrupted.

If Azriel was annoyed, he didn’t show it.

Cassian spied them at last, making his way through the cavernous entrails of the garage, with all its gleaming cars, the beautiful patrons who were discussing options with no-less beautiful sales people, and even on-premises tattoo shop, which specialized in Azriel’s sketches and catered to those who didn’t have money to actually outfit their Bugatti to their heart’s desire, but could at least claim that they got a Bagarat tattoo inked on their skin.

Elain and Azriel were standing side by side, somehow melding together nicely, her pretty dress and high-heeled sandals and piles of loose hair in drastic contrast with Azriel’s all-black ensemble, his massive height and the span of his shoulders. But she did not balk from him. Cassian also noticed that she didn’t react to the scars, which Azriel was very self-conscious about, and seemed genuinely interested in the garage.

It was inevitable that the two would eventually meet, especially with the wedding coming up and all the wedding related brouhaha. However, Cassian wanted to have the dibs on gloating down the line, and reminding the two of them, forever, about how it was he who introduced them. Yes, Azriel fucked a lot of models and rich girls, for whom he, strangely, was a riff on a ‘bit of rough’, while being hardly ‘rough’ at all. Azriel was elegant and possessed excellent taste in everything, and he probably had the best manners out of the lot of them. But the tattoos, the cars, the aura of brooding mystery about him, and his generally quiet ways were like honey to the throngs of women who lusted after him.

About Azriel, Cassian had no doubts.

Cassian knew Azriel probably better than anyone alive, and even that wasn’t saying much, but he was very aware of Azriel’s ‘secret type’ of woman. Basically, it was Elain. Everything about Elain Azriel would like—of that Cassian was certain. Elain was the elusive ‘ideal woman’ of whom Azriel dreamt, but never actually pursued. Slightly unconventional, soft, kind, generous—lovely, would be a good word—Elain was everything that Azriel never had with any other women.

Cassian could already see the hunger and flicker of completely besotted adoration in Azriel’s normally cold eyes.

He was less certain about Elain, having never seen her with a boyfriend. When he had asked Nesta about Elain’s situation, Nesta shrugged and said that Elain was beautiful, but naïve, dreamy and rarely dated.

“A Bentley it is then,” Azriel turned around, though his elbow still touched Elain’s arm. “You’ll fit, big boy?”

Elain giggled.

“I am not Rowan,” Cassian muttered. “I am human sized.”

“Only just.”

“You are the same height,” Cassian reminded him coolly.

“I am a little more human-shaped too.”

Cassian rolled his eyes and said, “Come on, petal. While I love to stand here and listen to his insults, we gotta go.”

Elain’s face dropped into a sad frown only for a second, but she recovered immediately. Cassian noticed it, nevertheless. His petal of a girl didn’t want to leave his brother’s side.

“Bye Azriel,” she said, taking his hand in hers again, of her own volition, and squeezing it lightly. “It was very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he said. His fingers wrapped over her palm, and he said, “I’ll walk you two out.”

So, his brooding brother didn’t want to release the newfound petal of a girl.

How interesting.

Once they were in Cassian’s Jeep, Elain looked out the window, a dreamy look on her face.

“Oh-oh,” Cassian chuckled, as he navigated the narrow NYC streets.

“What?”

“I know that look,” he winked.

“What look?” she frowned.

“The ‘oh gods, Azriel is so handsome!’ look. Oh, he is so gorgeous look. Oh, he is so sexy look.”

“He is handsome,” she agreed blandly, knowing that arguing would be silly.

“I hope that you gave him your number,” he said. “Because if you didn’t, I will.”

“It’s none of your business,” she crossed her arms on her chest, and Cass howled loudly.

“You are welcome, by the way,”

“You are ridiculous,” she muttered. “I don’t know how Nesta tolerates you!”

“Oh, Nes tolerates me and then some,” and winked again.

Now

“My love, slow down a bit,” Elain requested, as the road zigzagged among rows of cypresses.

“I thought that you wanted to make it to Florence before traffic hit?” Azriel squeezed her fingers and brought her hand to his lips.

“Seeing that we are already running late, we might as well enjoy the drive,” she shrugged.

A honey-coloured strand of her hair fell out from under the gauzy wrap that she wore around her head a-la Grace Kelley.

“Good.”

“Good what?” she turned her face to him and knocked him out all over again. By the Mother she was superb in every way, and she was his. He couldn’t believe his absurd luck. Things like these didn’t happen to him. Elain was not meant to be his. Yet, here she was, his lovely gentle girl, who loved him with incomprehensible passion and devotion. His.

The hefty, borderline outlandish ring on her finger was proof of that.

He’d worked hard on that ring, designing it himself, wanting to incorporate everything that he loved about her and about the two of them into the design. The result was this stunner that glittered madly in the Italian sun, sitting on her manicured finger, the skin of her arm kissed by a golden tan.

His beautiful girl loved flowers, and she loved him, so her ring, in its platinum setting was a remarkable rose, reflecting Elain’s green thumb and life’s work. He selected the diamond himself, and the amethysts that comprised the petals, even the tiny onyx inserts, to signify him and the black ink of his tattoos. The ring was both extravagant—especially in carats—but intimate as well, a flower that spoke of his eternal love for this woman.

“I am going to take you somewhere, which I think you’d like,” he teased.

“Where?”

“How does lots of flowers sound?”

She smiled.

Azriel

For gods’ sake, he was nervous. Azriel was not prone to nervousness or panic or discomfort, but this date, or whatever it was, filled him with dread.

He shouldn’t have asked her.

He was stupid and blinded by her beauty, by her deliciously voluptuous body, by the long, slender legs, by her shy, sweet smile. Those blushes. For the love of everything, those fine, adorable, sexy blushes.

She was part of the family network—both of his brothers were now in love with her sisters. It was cliché and unrealistic and unbelievable that she and he would end up in the same boat. Besides, he wasn’t so lucky as to have someone like her accept him. So, he was making a huge fucking mistake. If this was all going to go sour—which inevitably it would, of that he had no doubt—he’d mess up the delicate balance that existed between the Darling, Bagarat and Cavalhe brothers and the Archeron sisters. She’d reject him and then it would be awkward. Awkward for the upcoming wedding, in which he and Elain were supposed to couple up and be together in the wedding party. Rhys said, ‘fuck it’ and asked both him and Cassian to be best men, while Feyre had both of her sisters as maids-on-honour. There was no escaping it. Therefore, it would be awkward for the wedding, and then for Christmas and all the summer BBQs and pool parties and…well, he might just have to find excuses to never attend anything, ever.

But here he was, standing in front of an old-fashioned, cute corner storefront in the Village. Flower displays spilled on the sidewalk, and the windows, along with the marble edifice reminded him of Paris. This was exactly how he’d picture Elain’ store—slightly whimsical, elegant, classic, but modern. Au Nom de la Rose – The Name of the Rose—perfectly appropriate for Elain’s store name.

She wasn’t waiting for him outside, and he circled the block three times before, by some miracle, finding a parking space and leaving the silver Ferrari, and then made his way back to the store, arriving 4 minutes late, which was completely unacceptable. The store was technically closed at this hour, but he knocked and heard Elain’s voice telling him to come in. Some internal pressure inside of him released at the sound of her voice.

He entered and whistled,

“That’s a lot of flowers!”

Yep, definitely a glamourized 50’s Paris vibe.

“Azriel, I am so sorry, I am not ready,” Elain came from behind the counter, looking a bit frazzled.

“It’s alright I will wait,” he assured her, but she shook her head and said,

“No…I just received a huge order. An emergency order for an anniversary party. Azriel, it’s my biggest order ever!”

“That’s excellent!” he found himself feeling genuinely happy for her, if not for her concerned expression. “What’s up?”

“I…I,” she stumbled. “Feyre or Nesta would usually come and help out if I need them, but Feyre is in LA, and Nesta…” she swallowed, “Nesta is indisposed.”

Nes is on her period and is feeling like crap, read Cassian’s text from earlier today. I am going fishing. Care to join? Or are you busy romancing a certain Archeron sister?

Nesta was indisposed indeed, though Azriel didn’t feel like he needed to know the details.

“It’s a 25th Anniversary, and I have to make 25 bouquets and 15 centerpieces. The couple’s original florist fell through and they contacted me, in a panic, and I agreed,” she babbled, tugging on her long braid nervously. “And it’s for tomorrow,”

“Alright then,” he shrugged, “what’s the problem then? I am here.”

She looked up at him, her gaze both hopeful and confused.

“You? What are you going to do? I am sorry, Azriel, I am so sorry, we’d have to postpone,”

“We’d have to postpone our drive, but I am here. Use me.”

“Use you?”

“Use my body,” he chuckled, and she giggled an amused laugh.

“I appreciate the offer,” and when he thought that she’d continue rejecting his offer of help, she did the right thing and was a smart girl, nodding at last, and said, “will you truly help?”

“I am not a flower expert,”

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” she grinned.

He removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and said, “Teach me, Archeron. I am an apt pupil.”

He was. Elain showed him model bouquets and thankfully, he wasn’t dumb or clumsy enough to screw them up, once he began copying the originals.

Night fell, and they ordered pizza and he went to get a bottle of wine from the store across the street.

Sitting on the floor of the store, surrounded by piles of flowers, vases, ribbons and twine, they ate pizza, laughing throughout the evening. She stretched her long, bare legs in front of her, crossing them at the ankles, and he couldn’t get enough—the pretty toes, the pale golden skin and the sexy pink nail polish. He didn’t want to seem like a creep, but he snuck more than a few glances at her feet when she wasn’t looking.

It was well past midnight when they were finally done.

He stretched on the floor and tucked his arm behind his head.

She kneeled above him, at his side, and said, “Azriel, thank you. I can’t, honestly, thank you enough. You saved me. Maybe my business too!”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he retorted gently, “but this was fun…and educational.”

“How can I repay you?” she asked.

“Well, well,” he drummed his fingers on the floor, pretending to think. “So many possibilities,”

At that, she flushed, and he licked his lips, loving the sight of that pink on her cheeks.

“Let’s make a bargain,” he proposed at last.

“A bargain?” her brow furrowed.

He nodded.

“For my exceptional assistance during your time of trouble and despair, you will agree to an outing with me, of my choosing. To do whatever I want.”

Elain stared at him, biting her plump lower lip.

“Are we going to do something bad?” she finally asked uncertainly.

He grinned and without thinking, cupped her cheek.

She didn’t recoil.

He drew his thumb over her soft skin and she leaned into his palm just a little bit. Gods it felt good. So good. So good to have her so near, so receptive, so unafraid. But he dropped his hand.

“You think I will take you to knock off a couple of 7-11s?”

“Well, if I am entering this death bargain with you, then who the hell knows?” she shrugged.

He laughed, “Death bargain? A little dramatic, are we?”

She was still sitting there, biting her lip, and all he wanted to do was drag his tongue over it. Kiss her large, brown eyes. Fist his hand around the thick mass of her hair, tilt her head and kiss her until she was breathless.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He never acted like this!

He never thought like this.

He was a rational, controlled, some said, cold man.

Not to say that he wasn’t able to find a woman immediately attractive, or want to fuck her, but this was different. This was unknown.

“Fine,” she shrugged.

“Fine?” he repeated, smiling.

“Don’t make me do anything bad,” she warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” he promised. “I wouldn’t lead you astray. But,” he sat up, draping his forearms over his knees, “where do you live? Let me take you home,”

“I can take an Uber,”

He gave her an incredulous look and she nodded without further arguments.

“Where do you live?” he asked, once they were outside, somehow internally thrilled that perhaps, she’d invite him inside. He wouldn’t expect anything, obviously, but it would be nice see where she lived, what her private space looked like. So far, he couldn’t pinpoint her style with any accuracy, an interesting mixture of vintage and modern, of flowers and thorns.

“Just two blocks down,” she said, as she locked up the shop.

He gave her his arm, and it seemed like she almost expected it, because she immediately thrust her hand into the loop and he smiled softly.

The little white shorts and the flowery top did things to him, and he was glad to walk side by side, so to prevent himself from staring at her long legs and her neat, lush ass. He was already a mess over her legs, over her bending and squatting in front of him for the past four-five hours.

It was dark and quiet on the street, and they walked in a comfortable silence, each thinking of something of their own.

And then,

Elain sprawled face down on the pavement.

She cried out, landing on her knees on the asphalt, just barely having the time to brace herself on her hand, and ripping the skin of her palm.

Azriel was instantly on his knees in front of her.

Tears glistened in her eyes. Possibly from pain, because as she flipped on her butt, they saw that her knees were torn and bleeding, as was her palm, or maybe from shock, as well as embarrassment.

“Shhh,” he cooed gently to her, “are you okay?”

She shook her head. A lonely tear spilled from her eyes.

“Tissues?” he asked quickly, surveying the damage. Bruises were already blossoming on her scuffed kneecaps, all around the wounds.

She wordlessly handed him her bag, allowing him to rummage through it and he found a packet of old tissues, which he gingerly pressed to her bleeding knees.

“My ankle hurts,” she muttered, reaching down to inspect it.

“Let me,” he took her legs and looked over her ankle. She glared questioningly at him, still in some sort of stupor, not understanding what had occurred, and why she was now sitting on the ground, bleeding.

“You broke your heel,” he nodded to her foot and she glanced down, finally realizing that her heel caught in a crack in the pavement. The impact was so strong, it actually fully detached from the sole of the shoe.

“I am sorry,” she mumbled.

“You should be,” he chuckled, “you gave me quite a scare. I thought you were shot; you went down so quickly!”

She pushed at his arm, half laughing, and have crying.

“Stop making me laugh!” she ordered, sniffling and giggling. “Auuu, it hurts...”

He was lightly pressing on her ankle, and then said, “it’s just twisted. You’ll need ice, but it should be okay…”

“Ok, Doctor Azriel,” she even rolled her eyes slightly and he laughed, flicking her nose.

“I am trained on how to treat combat wounds and catastrophic field injuries, I’ll have you know,” he said and then gave her his hand. “On your feet, soldier! Let me see if you can stand.”

Moaning and groaning, she managed to stand up, but putting any weight on her foot caused a yelp to escape her lips.

“Alright, come on now,” he stepped and opened his arms, “jump in.”

“Jump in where?”

“Jump into my arms, of course.”

“What are you planning to do? Swing me around?”

“I could swing you around, but I was planning on carrying you home, and then making you an ice pack and disinfecting all your cuts.”

Without waiting for her to decide, he scooped her off the ground and she gasped, and he wasn’t sure what the little huff meant.

“But it’s like two blocks!” she protested feebly, and unconvincingly, “I am heavy.”

“Ooohhh,” he groaned dramatically, hefting her to his chest, as they started off. “Sooo, so heavy!”

“I am the fattest of my sisters,” she argued, and even in the darkness he saw that she was blushing realizing how silly her comment was.

“Well, considering that Nesta is like 90 lbs. and Feyre 110 lbs., that’s not saying much,” he assured her.

She was soft and warm in his arms, and when, without prompting, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, he felt utterly at peace. Because the pieces of them fit. She fit him.

Blood still dripping, and her arms thrown over his neck, Azriel walked steadily, cradling her to his chest, until they finally reached a pre-War building, and she said, “There is no elevator.”

“Don’t tell me you are on the 6th floor!” he laughed, looking up.

“The third.”

“Guess I will have to haul the fattest of the Archeron sisters to the 3rd floor!” he sighed, and she smacked his arm, protesting,

“You can’t say that!”

He was laughing and she began to laugh as well.

“You said it first,” he reminded her.

Her apartment was small, but she’d arranged the furniture in such a way that everything seemed more spacious, and orderly, without unnecessary frills. Mostly grays, turquoise, cobalt and creamy-white. For some reason, he thought that there would be much more pink and general fluff. This though, this he liked.

He sat her down on the sofa and went to the bathroom to find bandages and plasters and other items. She called out from her spot, telling him where to find things and he finally emerged and began working on all her wounds.

“Haven’t lost a soldier yet,” he told her with a chuckle. He kneeled in front of her, and his touch was firm, but surprisingly gentle, as he thoroughly washed every scuff and tear, and then disinfected and decided what needed bandages and what didn’t.

Elain remained mostly silent throughout the procedure, watching him from under her lashes.

“You are nice,” she said suddenly.

He looked at her and smirked.

“Not with anyone.”

“Everyone just says how handsome you are,” she lay her head on the back cushion, watching him. He gave her a painkiller, and it was making her drowsy. It was also late. She rarely stayed up this late. “But you are also very nice,” she added.

Elain

She woke up that morning, and was struck by the unfamiliar environment. And pain.

Her knees ached and screamed and hurt, as did her palm.

Light poured through the windows; the curtains still open.

She found herself on her sofa, haphazardly covered by a throw, and with her legs resting on Azriel’s lap.

Fuck.

He was here. With her.

He never left after last night’s debacle.

She was a clumsy cow, as always, but the incident was unusually embarrassing, even for her. She always spilled or dropped stuff on herself, tripped, stumbled, and fell on her ass at inopportune times, but last night…By the Mother!

The man was gosh darn saint. Not only did she screw up their evening plans, made him work and make bouquets with her, which, probably wasn’t the most exciting thing for him to spend the evening on, but she also almost ate the pavement, and then he carried her for half a mile! And cared for her when they came here. And spent, what must have been a horribly uncomfortable night in a half-seated position, with her, no doubt, pushing at him with her feet.

Yep, she was never going to see him again.

Good going, Elain. Fine job you did of this ‘relationship’. Now, for the rest of her life, she’d be forced to see him at family gatherings, probably with some stunning model of a wife, and he’d always remember her as the girl who tore her heel on the pavement.

She wanted to cry.

Not that she ever, even for a second, believed that this would go anywhere. Her and Azriel. That wasn’t possible. Things like these didn’t happen to her. She was strange and solitary and even if others claimed that she was pretty, going so far as to call her ‘beautiful’, she never felt like that. When Nesta got mad at her, she’d call her a ‘petty idiot’ and Elain felt like that more frequently than she cared to admit. And Azriel…he was cut from a different cloth. He was…

She looked at his face, still perfect, but ever so slightly relaxed and softened in sleep, his eyelids heavy and enviably long, thick lashes fanned over his golden-brown cheeks. He was funny, with a quick, dry sense of humour, intelligent and interesting, and when they talked last night, she couldn’t get enough! He told her fascinating stories from his time in the Navy, about his dream, which resulted in the creation of his beloved garage. It took him three years to open the place—conceptualize what he wanted, how to deliver it, the items to showcase. The result was not just the ‘garage’, but also the popular bar, and recently, a restaurant as well.

Scarred fingers touched her hand and he opened his eyes.

“Good morning,” he whispered, squinting at her. “How are you? How’s the pain?”

“Azriel,” she murmured, not even knowing how to thank him, but she attempted, “I want to,”

“Pancakes?” he asked eagerly.

She glanced at him with incomprehension.

“May I make you, or us, pancakes?” he proposed. “I’ve been sort of thinking about this all night. How I’d like to make you pancakes,”

“I want to thank,”

He lifted his finger and shook his head,

“No, no. My Italian mother would tell you that you should never thank anyone for providing medical help,”

“Why?”

“According to my psychotically superstitious Italian side of the family, the remedy or healing won’t take, if you offer thanks. Imagine, I was forbidden from ever saying ‘thank you’ to a doctor,”

She chuckled.

“So, you are Italian?”

“Mom’s side is half Neapolitan and half from Lazio—near Rome.”

He sat up and rolled his neck.

“Can I at least say that I am sorry that you had to be so uncomfortable and sleep on the couch?” she asked.

“It’s alright. Not the best night I’ve ever had, but not the worst one either. The company was nice too,” and he patted her legs.

A tiny flare of hope lit in her belly.

But she didn’t allow herself to have it take root.

Maybe not until he gathered her legs together on his lap and drew his fingers up and down her calf.

“But really, how is the pain?” he asked at last, watching her with his intense, warm eyes. The eyes didn’t warm frequently, it seemed, but when they looked at her—

He was different somehow.

Kind. Approachable.

“It’s fine,” she waved her hand, not wanting to burden him any longer with her dumb injuries.

Those long, scarred fingers glided over her skin, and a small smirk touched his lips, “May I kiss it better?”

She blinked at him.

“I hear that I am very good at making pain go away,” he added proudly, and then, his lips descended on her scuffed and bruised knees. She kissed each one, tenderly, and then took her hand and brought it to his lips, and pressed his mouth to the inside of her palm. Her breath hitched and she stared at him, wide-eyed, as he watched her, unblinking, gaging every minute reaction. He kissed her hand, inside and then out, and then kissed the other, even though it wasn’t injured, and then returned to her knees and kissed them again.

At last, “Better?” he asked.

She only mooed incoherently.

…Azriel, by the stove, flipping pancakes was the sexiest thing Elain had ever seen in her life.

Clad in dark slacks, in his white shirt from last night, with sleeves rolled up and the tattoo sleeves on full display, he stood in her kitchen, barefoot and flipped pancakes like a pro.

“You cook too?” she asked incredulously.

He laughed.

“Too? In addition to what?”

“I don’t know,” she was still perched on the sofa, like an invalid, but after she washed her face and brushed her hair, he ordered her to sit and not make unnecessary moves. “Everything?”

“My repertoire is limited, when it comes to the kitchen, but what I know how to make, I make well. Cassian is a better cook.”

“Cass?” she smiled.

“Nesta is lucky to have him,” Azriel added, somewhat wistfully.

Elain looked at him and nodded. “I think so too.”

“He is a good man. Maybe the best man I’ve ever known. Where my own family failed, he stepped in, though he is a year younger than me. But he taught me…how to be. Accepted me. Unconditionally. Taught me how to swim, how to ride a bike, how to fight.”

“And you?”

“I? I helped him with his reading,” Azriel rubbed his chin, his stance a little tense.

She didn’t say anything, waiting to see if he felt like sharing more.

“It was neglected,” he said at last. “His reading and writing. So, we sat together, late at night, at our foster parents’ house and read.”

He then asked, “coffee?”

The moment of reminiscing was over, and Elain did not press.

She nodded to one of the cupboards and he pulled out a tub of coffee and grimaced.

“This is what you drink?”

“Hey, it’s good coffee! I buy it at Trader Joe’s!” she laughed defensively.

“Baby, we are drinking Italian coffee in this house,” he decided, and there was no arguing with that logic.

That’s how Elain became Azriel’s ‘baby’.

In their house, they always drank Italian coffee.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

“Thanks Nu,” Azriel greeted a lanky, very thin, very tall girl, who handed him two packages and then winked at him and disappeared wordlessly.

“My assistant, Nuala,” he explained, showing Elain two packages of Lavazza coffee. “This will do for now.”

Elain hobbled to the small butcher block island that she’d restored from a console that she found at a flea market. “You text someone and they just appear?”

He grinned and shrugged innocently.

“I know a guy.”

“Of course you do. Are you in the mafia?”

“First of all, rude,” he placed a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of her and then poured her coffee, “second of all, I just know a guy.”

“Who knows where to buy Lavazza on a Saturday morning?” she wondered, tucking into the pancakes.

“I have a network of spies,” he winked at her.

She sipped on the coffee, perhaps not as good a cup as he’d made her at his garage, but glorious nevertheless. “Are you in the CIA?”

“Not in the mafia or the CIA. Just a lowly car guy.”

“Uh-uh.”

They toasted with their coffee cups and Azriel said, “not bad for a first date. Blood and flowers. Very romantic.”

It was that morning, that sunny Saturday morning, over a plate of pancakes and some Italian coffee that Elain Archeron fell in love.

She fell in love completely.

Utterly.

Irreversibly.

And forever.

Now

Azriel turned off to some side road and how he knew where to go, Elain had no idea, but she just enjoyed the scents and warmth of the day.

“You know,” she laughed. “We are literally under the Tuscan sun right now!”

“All your dreams are coming true,” he ran a loving hand over her bare arm and she tore her gaze from the scenery around her.

“My dreams came true when I met you,” she confessed. “That was the day.”

“So easily impressed!” he teased, but she saw that her words touched something in him. His face softened with happiness.

“Az, slow down,” she whispered, an almost painful pull to kiss him spreading over her. “I want to kiss you.”

He looked at her, eyes hidden behind his Aviator shades, but slowed down and she leaned towards him and planted her mouth on his cheek.

“Lips,” she murmured with audible desperation.

“Baby, I don’t want to bust up this nice Ferrari,” he laughed. “And you, who is riding in it.”

Pouting, she ordered, “Then pull over so I can kiss you!”

He laughed louder, throwing his head back, his gorgeous tanned neck annoyingly desirable.

She wanted to bite his vein, lick the salty skin of his neck, and then sink her teeth into his shoulder. Elain was a biter. And a scratcher. Good thing that Azriel was a benevolent lover, who didn’t care if she left his body marked with her love, and didn’t mind the pain. In fact, he encouraged it.

His heavy brown hand lay on her knee, under the hem of her summer dress and he said,

“Why don’t I do something nice for you… then you can kiss me…”

“But I want to kiss you now,” she frowned playfully.

His hand slid a little higher, up her bare thigh, and he pressed his scarred palm into her thin, tender skin, rubbing slowly, indulgently. This was just as much for her as it was for him.

She threw her head into the back of the seat, eyes closed.

Until she yelped softly, when his wicked hand slipped higher and higher, pushing her dress up as well.

“Azriel Bagarat,” she murmured, “what am I going to do with you? And your love for public nudity and lovemaking…”

He shrugged oh so innocently and said, “firstly, it’s Archeron to you, and,”

“Not just yet,” she wiggled her ring-clad hand in front of him, “not until we got the paper and all, to make us official,”

They rolled their eyes at the same time and then laughed.

“And secondly, who can blame me?” he leaned and kissed her shoulder. “You are very hot. And I sort of want to fuck you all the time.”

His long, very experienced fingers made their way even higher, until he drew them along the cotton of her underwear, lightly pressing into the cleft, teasing ever so lightly. She shifted against the fingertips, her thighs falling apart in silent encouragement.

Elain was a giving and a receptive lover, innately knowing what he wanted and accommodating both of their needs thoughtfully, and easily.

“What do you want, baby?” he murmured.

“To kiss you,” she insisted stubbornly.

He huffed his amusement, and then pushed his finger deeper, firmer against the cotton, whispering,

“How about this?”

“This is nice, I suppose,”

“Only nice?” he withdrew his finger in warning and she grabbed his wrist, and thrust it back in place.

“Maybe a little better than ‘nice’, huh?” he teased.

“A little,” she agreed, gasping when he cupped her fully, swiping his heel of his palm against the length of her folds, feeling the dampness against his skin. Bold, as he always was, he moved the strip of cotton to the side, and hiked up her dress ever higher, exposing her to his exploration.

He snuck a glance at her perfectly peachy, pink pussy, bare and succulent, like a ripe fruit dripping with its sweet juices.

He groaned and then hissed, “I am stopping, right now. I want you coming on my tongue in the next four minutes,”

“So confident, ombre?”

She took to calling him ombre or ‘shadow’, when, early in their relationship, he kept materializing in front of her out of nowhere, stepping out of the shadows. He laughed, but didn’t mind the endearment. What’s more, it became a private thing between the two of them—he’d call her ‘rose’ and she’d call him ‘ombre’. It wasn’t nauseatingly sugary sweet and could be used in public without making people gag. Unlike, for example, the Darlings, who, for whatever reason called each other ‘my darkness’. Or Cassian, who sometimes went with ‘schmoopie’, braving Nesta’s wrath.

Azriel laughed, while incessantly dragging his finger back and forth over the wet slit, without doing much else, and making her gasp and squirm.

“That I can make you come on my tongue in 4 minutes? Fuck yeah! Want me to prove it?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she shook her head, “you don’t get to just do whatever the hell you want, when you want it. If I don’t get my kiss, you don’t get to,”

“What? Lick your pussy? I feel like the punishment is unreasonable,” he protested.

She gave him a sultry look, a look that only he was privy to, and then murmured, spreading her legs a little wider for him,

“Maybe I want to lick something of yours?” she proposed, her voice husky, pouring like honey over his ear.

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” he choked out, finally parting the soft cushions of her folds and dragging his knuckles over the wet spread of her. The intoxicating scent of her arousal, mixed with the Italian sunshine and the smell of grass, flowers and cypresses was so heady, he almost swerved, stopping only quick enough to grip the steering wheel tightly in his left hand.

Gods, if he was going to make it to their next destination, he would be impressed with himself. But it was close.

Azriel

Elain loved getting fingered. That was the first thing he learned about her sexually—kissing and fingering.

In the privacy of their world, he fingered her constantly.

It was almost an obligation on his part by now, to have her wake up, tucked into his side, while gently, but thoroughly pumping her soft, indescribably tight center. No matter how many times he’d been inside of her, she remained tight, as tight as the first time. That was a blessing, but a curse as well, for all he could typically think about throughout the day, was sinking into that glorious tightness.

When she was finally semi-awake, she rolled on her back and spread her legs in front of him, so he could finger her in earnest. Two fingers first, nice and deep inside of her, as he knelt in front of her and watched her come undone before him. And then, there was always a moment when her eyes flew open, and her back arched, and he slipped the third one in. The plush, warm walls of her sex stretched and pulled to accommodate him, but he went slow and deep, only grazing the sensitive spot in her, making her moan low and begging, the pressure of his hand steady and firm.

She cried and cried into the pillow, head thrown back in utter extasy, her hair a tangled halo about her. She wasn’t permitted to move her hips, his only order in that early-morning game of theirs, therefore she was wholly dependent on him for her pleasure. If she ever did begin a sensual undulation of her hips around his hand, he’d allow her to continue for a few moments, aware that she was lost in her own pleasure, before cruelly yanking his hand out of her.

“Was my girl allowed to do that?” he’d ask simply, and amidst her disappointed panting, her pleading for more, her sweet, innocent “sorry. I am sorry,” she’d beg him to fill her again.

Then she’d lay still, eyes wide and pleading, her little opening vibrating at the loss, before he placed her feet on his shoulders and thrust in her anew. This time, his scarred, rough, brown, inked fingers disappeared in her completely. She buckled and let out a wild moan that reverberated from the very depth of her, because all four fingers were inside, and his thumb finally, finally began a gorgeously slow torment around her clit. She just lay there, tense and unmoving, watching him, the slurping, obscene sounds of his hand inside of her filling the sleepy morning air around them.

Elain came quietly. She moaned and twisted and gasped as he rubbed her clit, but when the waves finally descended upon her, when he felt the tight, silky flesh grip and pump all four of his fingers, which were now pressing up into her perfect spot, the exhale was soft and intimate. Only for him.

Now

“Don’t wreck the car,” Elain muttered, eyes barely open.

“Will this be the second one?” Azriel asked, while Elain wrapped her hand around his wrist and forcefully jammed his hand inside of her.

Four.

Four orgasms daily. That was his promise.

He’d provide her with at least four daily orgasms. So far, he typically exceeded expectations. It wasn’t particularly difficult, because he often played with her at odd times—when they were watching TV, he’d slip a finger onto her clitty and rub her slowly and leisurely, until she melted from the stimulation. She enjoyed it when he bent her over counters or sinks, and sunk his fingers deep and hard into her perpetually ready hole.

Elain, to his complete delight and fascination, was always just a bit aroused. Always, always just a bit wet, just a little damp for him. He’d make an unscheduled stop at her shop and if it was empty, he’d step behind the counter with her, and soon, she’d be splayed over the counter, his hand between her legs. Yes, they’ve been almost caught plenty of times, but Azriel had the ability to disappear into shadows as soon as he sensed someone coming. Sometimes, when someone would walk in the store, Azriel even pretended that he was a customer, buying flowers, watching her patiently, while she got his bouquet ready for him. Never mind that his hand might have been soaked with her slick, or that he smirked, watching her press her thighs together, while she wrapped the flowers, as she avoided eye contact with him, and handed him the bouquet which he’d inevitably bring home for her.

When he was around her, she jokingly complained that she was of constant need for him, and it was his very enviable and pleasant task to soothe the ache inside of her.

Azriel

Their friends, family, found their relationship perplexing. But Elain kept her sisters firmly at an arm’s length when it came to the discussion of their sex life. No matter how they tried to pry, she gently, but firmly rebuffed them. Nesta complained and said that they were too obsessed with each other. That Elain was too in love and that Azriel was too dependent on Elain’s love for this to be normal. Elain only shrugged and didn’t argue.

“It’s not normal!” seethed Nesta, watching Elain and Azriel wrapped around each other on the dance floor, Elain’s body shimmying and swaying around her, arms raised in the air, her hips swooshing to the beat, bumping into his pelvis.

“You think they are gonna do it right on the dancefloor?” Cassian contemplated quietly, not sure if this was outside the realm of possibilities.

“He would!” she spat and gulped down her Aperol spritz aggressively. “I am surprised he is not bending her over…more surprised she isn’t agreeing!”

“They never argue,” Cassian nodded.

“They never—never—argue. It’s not normal!”

The way Cassian saw it, as long as the two were happy, he had no right to judge.

Nesta was a hot pepper. Feyre, an apple—solid, tasty, dependable. Elain—whipped cream—a delicious topping over anything, but especially Azriel.

Nevertheless, the word got around.

One day, Azriel, Rowan and Cassian were sitting in Elain’s flower shop, toiling diligently over a huge order of flowers.

They wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not to each other, or their women, but they quite enjoyed hiding in that flower shop and arranging flowers. They claimed that they were doing it for Elain’s sake, to help her out, so she didn’t have to hire additional help just yet, but,

Well, they liked it.

At first, Elain wasn’t sure if Cassian was cut out for the task, because the very first try was a little rough.

“Cass, these are not your enemies that you are about to smite,” Elain instructed gently, prying his fingers from the stems of irises, which he was clutching like he was about to throw a lance.

“Pfff, you look like you are about to choke a chicken,” Nesta teased. And promptly realised her mistake, biting her lip.

Cassian cocked his brow and murmured seductively,

“What chicken am I choking, sweetheart? My own,”

“Oh no,” Elain stepped in between them, hands on her hips. “No. No. No. Absolutely not.”

“Lainey, don’t allow Cass to choke his chicken in front of us,” begged Azriel, working quickly and deftly, and soliciting an envious look from Cassian, whose flowers were in complete disarray, compared to Azriel’s neat piles and methodical assembly line.

“Yes, no one is choking chickens, penises or each other in here,” ordered Elain sternly, while Nesta and Azriel were laughing silently.

“Hehe,” smirked Cassian, “Elain said ‘penis’!”

“Take your dirty talk and deeds,”

Dirty deeds done dirt cheap, dirty deeds done dirt cheap

Cassian began rocking to his own singing, imitating the gravel of Brian Johnson’s voice rather successfully, headbanging over his babybreath, bluebells and irises.

Chicken choking forgotten for a moment.

As Cassian fussed over a vase, working on each stem and arranging them just so, wearing a little white apron no less, he asked casually, “So, brother, four?”

Azriel was in his own headspace, and he didn’t even hear Cassian, as he was busy with his own flower arrangement.

There was, expectedly, a competition going on—who’d complete the most arrangements in an hour. Rowan, a veritable giant, and Cassian’s best friend, also wore an apron, but a long one, like a butcher, and was significantly ahead of the pack. That bothered Azriel more than he cared to admit. So, he was re-strategizing his strategy.

“Four what?” Rowan inquired, not taking his eyes off the flowers, working like a machine.

“Ask Az here,” Cassian suggested. He was catching up to Azriel with an alarming speed.

Azriel had never lost, so far. He wasn’t going to lose today.

“Stop speaking in riddles. What are you talking about?”

“Word on the street is that our Az here provides the flower girl with a minimum of four orgasms on the daily,”

Azriel started and finally tore his eyes from the flowers.

Both Rowan and Cassian were watching him, smirking.

“I guess it’s true then,”

“Fuck off.”

“If that’s true,” Rowan drawled, “good for you, man. Though you are putting us to shame with this ridiculous offer of yours. How do you keep up?”

“Easily,” Azriel shrugged. “But it’s freaking me out that you two are talking about my sex life so casually.”

“But fucking four? Daily?” repeated Cassian, shaking his head.

“Yeah, Elain, man,” Rowan rubbed the back of his head, mussing his silver hair, “who would’ve thought?”

Cassian nodded, “No offense, brother, but Elain doesn’t strike anyone as particularly adventurous in the bedroom,”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Azriel said simply.

“Very beautiful,” offered Rowan pacifically, “but…you know…Kind of like Elide, I guess. You wouldn’t know it, looking at her,”

Cassian was nodding. “Yeah, she looks like she eats macaroons and reads Jane Austen,”

“Macarons,” said Azriel.

“What?”

“It’s macaron. Not macaroon.”

“What the hell is the difference?”

“One is a French biscuit, made with almond flour and filled with a creamy filling. The other, is a coconut concoction that one usually eats at Passover.”

Rowan was chuckling. Cassian was shaking his head, grunting, “you would know. So, does she? Eat maca--,”

“No, she doesn’t even like macarons. And she doesn’t read Jane Austen. She reads espionage novels. She likes Daniel Silva. Any more stupid questions?”

Elide. Of course. He should’ve guessed.

Elain and Elide met through Rowan and it was friendship at first sight.

Azriel couldn’t argue—the two women were similar in many ways. Both were on a quiet side, polite, well-mannered. Elain—a ray of sunshine, tall, slender and curvaceous, smiling and affable, with piles of golden-brown locks and warm brown eyes. Elide—the opposite—small, pale, with perfectly straight, silky black hair and dark, midnight eyes. Both—crafty in the ways of the world, charming, when needed, capable of getting into everyone’s good graces, and therefore, getting what they wanted.

“No, no more stupid questions,” said Cassian. “Just don’t know how you two grumps attracted such lively girls,”

“Lorcan and I aren’t ‘grumps’. We just talk when we need to and don’t have the need for instant gratification or to be the center of attention. Something I can’t say about you,”

“It’s not about me,” Cassian protested, but Azriel stopped him, by raising his finger,

“Now, if you are not going to shut the fuck up about my woman and me, I will spread a rumour amongst your women, that it’s not four, but six. Daily. Let’s see how you measure up then.”

Silence fell.

Azriel won.

His 36th win.

Now

“Yes, the second,” Elain nodded with a satisfied smile.

Azriel

Naturally, today, he woke her up properly, as he always did.

They stayed in an adorable little villa, near Montepulciano. It was everything a Tuscan villa was supposed to be…

including the dust that settled in its 800-year-old walls. And Elain coughed and coughed and coughed, surprisingly not coughing up a lung.

“We can’t stay here,” Azriel said, frowning.

“Where are going to go? We are in the middle of Tuscany and it’s 10 pm,” she reminded him.

Ever resourceful, he dragged the mattress off the antique bed and plopped it down on the floor of their small balcony.

“We sleep here. Under the night Tuscan sky.”

It was a lovely, if chilly night, and Elain would’ve enjoyed it if she didn’t fall asleep almost immediately and slept through the night.

She was still asleep, when the birds began their morning song and Azriel positioned her on her hands and knees, and carefully removed her nightgown, baring her to the dry, cool morning air.

“Someone will see us,” she murmured sleepily.

She tucked her hands under her cheek, and followed the direction of Azriel’s hand on her hip, rising her butt high up, and arching her back for him.

Azriel loved having sex out in the open. Especially if she was completely naked. He wasn’t overt about it, but the thrill of being found out, the titillating desire to be watched was always present. She knew it. She indulged his fantasies.

“I don’t think anyone would mind watching you,” he whispered hotly in her ear and lightly bit the apple of her cheek. “But it’s also like 4:15 in the morning. So maybe they are still sleeping.”

He settled behind her and she felt his hands on her back, smoothing over the sharp cut of her tight waist and then the soft curve of her hips.

“Spread your legs for me, my love, I want to play with you a little bit,” he guided her, and she followed his direction, squatting inelegantly on her knees, thighs wide apart for him. He cupped her fully in his palm and then pinched her clit, hard, twisting it and rubbing it between his two fingers, until she bit her forearm, trying to stifle her cries of instant pleasure. He pinched again, then again, rubbing tightly, while he bit her buttock playfully, but hard enough to leave a pink mark.

“Mmmm,” she groaned, when he nibbled on her flesh again, tugging on the swollen clit with relentless dedication. She managed to twist enough to kiss his knee and whispered, eyes still closed, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my beautiful girl,” he leaned forward and kissed her wet, stretched opening, dragging his tongue around and around the rim, “and you are so nice and wet for me in the morning. My good girl, what do you want?”

“Only you,” she vowed. “Only you, my Az.”

“Let’s fill your pretty little hole then,” he licked on it again, and then slid one strong, long finger inside. As he began to pump her slowly, he proposed, “When I fill you with my cock later on,”

“Uh oh,” she moaned dreamily, smiling a loving smile, enjoying his finger to the fullest.

“I think I’d like to add a finger or two as well. What do you think?”

“I’d like that, I think,” she complied easily.

Elain was not a particularly imaginative lover, but Azriel was the opposite—he had too much imagination when it came to everything. Especially Elain, and what he liked to do with her sexually. What was absolutely fantastic, and he thanked all the gods for this phenomenon, was that Elain was willing to try anything. She was an absolutely willing and eager lover, who learned from him and learned of her body with readiness and joy. He dominated her completely, but that was the nature of their relationship, and they easily fell into their roles, from the very beginning. She was submissive, loved praise, and loved being guided and told what to do. More than anything else, she loved pleasing him. There was never any pull and push, no competition, no power struggles. Elain was made for him, created and carved from something that was innately his, whether it was his body or his mind, and they lived and loved harmoniously. He complimented her perfectly: her temperament, her needs, her wants. He treated her with admiration, gentleness, adoration and respect, and while his own expectations were high, she met them all with ease. She took control when she needed to. Received what she wanted from him, however she needed to. And he gave and gave.

Some, or many, called them soulmates.

Perhaps that’s what they were. Or maybe, they were even more than that.

Azriel stretched his legs on either side of her curved body and then added another finger inside of her sopping, slippery opening, reaching deep into her and pumping her firmly.

“Auuuu, babe, it’s good…” she squealed, “it’s so good.”

Unable to wait any longer, he pulled her buttocks apart with his available hand and swept his tongue over the tiny opening, causing her to seize with surprise and pleasure. Instinctively, she moved her hips against his tongue, pushing her backside into his lips. He licked the little hole in earnest, dragging his tongue back and forth between both of her openings, making her tremble and shudder every time his tongue reached one or the other.

As he sat to the task of licking and sucking her tight hole, he thrust a third finger into her dripping passage, feeling her shift against his face to accommodate the stretch. It was a lot, and she whimpered and moaned from the pressure, but he knew that she could take four, though he wasn’t in a hurry, and worked her diligently and steadily, his tongue laving the other hole just as eagerly.

She was shaking between his legs, her toes curling beneath her, rapid pants escaping into the morning mists, her hair draping the tiled floor in front of her, even spilling through the balcony rails.

Somewhere they heard sheep bleating and Elain laughed softly, before arching her back even further, not caring how splayed she looked. There wasn’t a part of her that he hasn’t seen, hasn’t touched or licked or kissed, not an inch of her that wasn’t caressed by his rough hands, not an orifice that he hasn’t penetrated with his magnificent cock. He’d burrowed inside of her so deeply, so wholly, he possessed all of her and she knew what it’s like to truly be part of another person, to be loved with egregious passion.

He fed another finger inside of her and she cried out, trembling and grunting, as she grabbed and squeezed his foot with mighty strength.

He tore his lips away from her bottom and grinned,

“Love, when you are in labour with our baby, I am fully prepared for the fact that you will break my fingers, maybe even my hand.”

“I am sorry,” she laughed, and kissed his foot, dragging her tongue over his toes.

There wasn’t a part of him that she did not love, did not worship with everything she had. No part of his body remained un-kissed, un-touched, un-caressed. A lazy Sunday, especially if the weather was crap and they had no plans to go out, was her favourite time—she could spend the day loving her Azriel. On those days, she pleasured him. And if she spent hours with his cock buried in her throat, or his balls between her lips, or her tongue in his ass, she was only too happy.

The tips of his fingers crawled into that hidden spot inside of her, curling just so, so he could massage and rub her into a frenzy. He stilled for a moment, to allow her to adjust to the fullness and the stretch, as she bit his foot, trying to stifle her screams. She leaked slowly over his hand, as most of it was situated in her clutching, hungry tightness.

“Very good, my baby,” he praised, kissing her buttocks and then giving her anus a few approving licks, “taking all four inside of you,”

“Oh my god, oh,” she groaned, “it’s so tight…Az, my love, I am so full,”

“I know, love,” he coaxed evenly, his hand beginning a steady, firm barrage of deep, pounding thrusts, “but it’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeess,” she only managed, voice thin, pleading. She could barely hold herself up, so he wrapped his arm around her hips, keeping her ass up. She grabbed the balcony wrought-iron spindles, squeezing them tightly, forehead pressed into the mattress, as he pumped her harshly, keeping her on the verge of constant climax, but pulling back just so, for her to moan and beg him in a never ending litany.

“Baby, you want to come?” he teased, still busy with her butthole, which softened under his furious sucking and if they had more time and privacy, Elain would be ready to take him anally soon enough.

“Yes,” she grunted, “yes,”

“Ask nicely, and maybe,”

“Ugh, you are such a horrible tease,” she complained, biting his foot in spite, and he laughed, before slapping her firm, soft buttock.

“Biting a person who is making you come so nicely?” he slapped her again, and she yelped with pleasure, wiggling her ass, silently asking for more.

The walls of her passage clenched desperately over his fingers, and she made a choking, frantic sound in her chest, now beyond pleading or even moaning. He sucked, and slapped, and bit, and thrust, pumping her open, the sounds of the wet and the skin inside of her completely obscene, and music to both of their ears.

Azriel noticed a man, either a delivery guy or a grounds keeper, watching them wide eyed and shocked from a distance. Probably not something he expected to see at 4:40 in the morning. Not that he made a move to leave.

Azriel opted not to alarm Elain, who was coming violently on his hand, her body trembling and jerking, her beautiful, quiet orgasm sweeping everything in its path. His girl deserved a proper wake up, deserved and needed her climaxes, and deserved to be watched, because she was so beautiful. Her teeth and tongue clamped tightly on his foot, his toes, as she bit and licked, completely undone, turned inside out by his expert hand.

He still worked her hand in her, his thrusts shallow and not as strong, when she collapsed on the mattress at last, eyes closed, panting.

He smiled and finally slipped on the mattress alongside her, though he kept a finger between her folds, rubbing soothingly. She’d bite his head off if he removed his hand from her this quickly.

“Good morning my love,” he whispered at last, kissing her cheek.

“Mmmm, good morning,” she sighed with satiated pleasure.

“Some guy caught an eyeful,” he whispered, but she only snuggled to his chest.

“I don’t care…As long as you were watching me, that’s all that matters.”

“I wouldn’t mind sliding into your little bum right now,” he confessed, stroking her hip and her curvy backside.

“Do you want to take me?” she offered sweetly, eyes fluttering open.

He kissed her head and smiled, “So tempting, but not here and not now. Let’s jump in the shower and then be on our way. We’ve got a decent amount of driving to do today.”

She nodded.

“Did I tell you that I love you?” she stroked his cheek, the sharp, angular cut of it, the dark bronze skin.

“You did, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

“I love you, Azriel.”

“I love you, Elain.”

Elain

Their day was long.

They had their cappuccino and cornetti at some café on the road.

Their trip had a purpose—they were actually driving to Maranello, to the Ferrari headquarters where Azriel had 3 days of business meetings.

When Az told her that he was thinking of going to Italy, it was no brainer to say ‘yes’.

It was the first time she was going to leave her business, her shop, for an extended period of time, but Feyre promised to oversee the operations, while Cerridwen, whom Elain recently hired as a full-time employee and who was Nuala’s sister, was going to be responsible for the day-to-day.

The last time Elain’s been to Italy was when she was barely 10 years old. A few years before everything’s went to shit. Back then, her father completed a very lucrative business deal and there was a lot of disposable cash, so the family decided to take a grand trip to Italy.

Little Feyre who was only seven screeched and begged to go to Disneyland, while Nesta and their mother voted for Italy. No one asked Elain, assuming that she’d go wherever she was told.

The trip was extensive, almost four weeks, and they hit all the glamorous Southern parts—the Amalfi coast, with their headquarters in a rented villa near Positano. Then they went to Portofino, and their father rented a yacht for a few days, the trip culminating in Capri. It was a whirlwind on sun and the sea, of lemons, eating grilled squid, at which Feyre stared in horror, though she liked the taste, amazing fruit, endless pastries and gelato. Even their mother yanking a few pastries away from Elain, hissing that she ‘grow fat and not find a husband’ didn’t mar the experience. Elain, always the plumper of the sisters, was used to the warning by then.

This time around, Elain could eat as much pastry as she wanted.

They landed in Rome, spent four days there, since she insisted on going to the Vatican Museum twice, hear Mass at St. Peter’s, and she didn’t know if she annoyed Azriel with her endless excitement and tales of art, artists, and biblical stories, but she couldn’t help herself.

She was an Art History major in NYU, receiving a full scholarship to attend. She loved it. Didn’t like college all that much as a whole, but loves studying. When everyone was partying, drinking, fucking and skipping classes, she went to the Met and to MOMA and learned and enjoyed herself. She loved history of religion, of other cultures and though not at all religious herself, none of them were, her knowledge on the subject was thorough.

Azriel, it seemed, liked her passion, her excitement, and listened attentively when she went on long explanation of what this or that Saint did and what grizzly death they’d suffered. And what was the significance of the painting or sculpture of the said Saint. Obviously, he was very artistically inclined as well, though his preference lay in design and industrial art, but he enjoyed listening and discussing. They spent hours and hours meandering the halls of the museum, and of the cathedral, and both spent a good half an hour in front of the Pieta, staring in silence and quiet contemplation at the sculpture, holding hands.

It was when they were sitting at a café, sipping some bitter Campari cocktails and watched the sprawling vistas of Rome that Azriel confided to her. Told her of his childhood. She knew some of the details, but he never talked about his childhood, and she opted not to pressure him. It was clear enough that it was horrific in many ways, and bringing up all those memories didn’t make sense to Elain.

Told her how his father, who was rich and vicious, won custody of him from his mother, not because he wanted his son, but out of spite, to torment the mother. And then it was years of solitude and loneliness and emotional and physical abuse. Azriel’s only reprieve was drawing, making designs, sometimes with chalk on the pavement, sometimes on scraps of paper. His stepmother threw everything out as soon as he made it. He languished in his father’s world for 8 years, until a catastrophic event took place—his stepbrothers doused him, his hands, in gasoline and lit him up. They didn’t call the paramedics either, and simply stood there, watching, as he burned. Finally, the neighbors heard his screams and police and ambulance came at last.

Because he was young, he recovered most of the sensations and feeling in his hands, but the skin was permanently scarred and his father refused skin grafts.

He’d met Cassian at the hospital, who came there having been beaten so badly by his foster father, that he had a concussion, broken ribs and a punctured eye socket.

Mrs. Darling, Rhys’s mother, who was one of the biggest benefactors of the children’s hospital where they were recovering, heard their stories and thankfully, her wealth opened every door. Her influence and wealth were no match for Azriel’s father. Hence when she decided that she wanted to adopt the two boys, little could be done to dissuade her. Azriel and Cassian still spent some time in foster care, while the documents were being processed and all the formalities legalized, but at the end, they ended up with the Darlings, as their adopted sons.

Elain wanted to cry for him, for his destroyed childhood, for his tormented youth, for his injuries, for the lack of love in his life. For his sake, though, she didn’t.

Sensing that he needed her support, she didn’t release his hand for the remainder of the day.

And she told him how much she loved him and how happy he made her.

They left Montepulciano, and then drove for a few hours and stopped at Orvieto, and explored its unnecessary enormous Duomo, which was situated on the hill, amidst the Umbrian lushness. The tiny town did offer spectacular views and great wine, which they enjoyed with lunch.

Now

Azriel worked his fingers into the supple warmth of her damp pussy and looked down, before ordering, “wider, Lainey”.

She spread her legs wider, her knit dress folded haphazardly over the belly.

“Wider,” he said and she placed one foot on the seat, exposing herself completely to him.

It was never wide enough for him, for he liked to see everything, liked to spread and open and pull her wide apart for his eyes, for his exploration.

He pressed his thumb to her plump pink clit and began to rub.

She whined impatiently and he smiled,

“We are almost there…”

“I need you,” she moaned, kissing his shoulder through his shirt.

“I need you too, my beauty,” he nodded, “but I think once we get there, you’ll forget all about me.”

She tsked and announced, “I don’t know if anything will impress me as much as your cock in my mouth,”

He started at the blunt words, her amused grin and then burst out laughing.

“Naughty.”

In a few minutes, he rounded a small green hill and Elain’s breath caught in her throat.

“Oh, gods…Az…”

He was smiling.

He’d never been here before, but he’d done his research, finally finding the right spot.

A tiny hidden valley, nestled between a few rolling Tuscan hills, with a small turquoise lake sparkling in the late afternoon sun. In the distance, a mandatory Tuscan villa.

And poppies. Fields of poppies, stretching as far as the eye can see. A blanket of ruby-red poppies, gently swaying in the pine-scented air.

This place was a damn Walmart painting come true, and Azriel loved it for its kitsch, its predictability.

“It’s gorgeous!” she gasped. Then chuckled, adding, “Like one of those mass-produced paintings,”

At that, Azriel roared with laughter, killed the engine and they got out of the car.

“My thoughts exactly!” he nodded vigorously.

She ran into the poppies, brushing her palm over the petals, “But it’s worth it! No painting can ever do this justice! Az…it’s so beautiful!” she twirled in the field of red, her white dress a stark contrast to the vibrancy of the colours around her—the cobalt of the cloudless sky, the emerald green of the hills, the blood-red of the poppies.

He folded his arms and said, “I am glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it!”

She inspected all the wildflowers that bloomed among the poppies, picking a few purple ones and a daisy and tucking them behind her ear. Another daisy she brought to him and tucked it into his hair.

“There is a blanket in the trunk,” he jerked his head towards the car, and unbuttoned his shirt almost to the navel, “if you want to picnic,”

“I want to picnic!” she squealed and ran to the car to get what she needed.

Soon there was a blanket on the grass and a few bottles of wine in a basket.

He slid down, stretching on the blanket, toeing off his shoes, rolling his shoulders. This was nice. He also relished her happiness, how her high ponytail bounced about as she ran through the field barefoot, and then began twirling, arms outstretched and singing loudly,

The hills are alive with the sound of

Griswold, he helped out.

“Are you coming here?” he called out, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“No,” she yelled, “I am picking flowers!”

“They’ll wilt,” he muttered reasonably, but she didn’t hear him.

Azriel dozed off, surprising himself. But the pleasant heat, the sunshine, the breeze, the birds—all lulled him into sleep. He stirred only when he sensed Elain near, and when he opened his eyes, he was treated by a lovely surprise. He propped himself on his elbows and watched his beautiful girl walk towards him completely naked, with a heap of flowers in the crook of her arm. What she did with her dress he didn’t know and didn’t care. But he drunk in the slim, curvy silhouette of her body, the long, slender legs and the toned thighs. Her smooth, pink sex glistened just a bit with her usual arousal, and full breasts bounced with every step. Her hair flowed behind her, unbound.

“I got hot,” she announced.

He grinned.

“I can see that. I like it when you get hot like this.”

She stood over him, her delicious slit taunting him and he made to touch it, but she dumped all the flowers on him instead and said, “get up”.

“Why?!” he frowned. “I am so comfortable.”

“I can make you a little more comfortable,” she promised, “but for that, you have to get up.”

With a groan, he got on his feet, only to have her slide on her knees in front of him. She looked up and murmured, “by the time you are done with me, I only want to have gelato to soothe my throat.”

He swallowed audibly, watching her unbutton his trousers and then his shirt. She removed the pants completely, but left the white shirt on, before placing a few soft, loving kisses on the thick slabs of muscles on his stomach. The well-defined outline of his Adonis Belt she traced with her tongue, inevitably making her way from his hip towards the final destination.

“And I want my knees bruised,” she added with a wicked smirk.

He flicked her nose and shook his head, “such filthy words coming from this pretty little mouth.”

She licked her lips with impatience, hungrily watching him fist his member and give it a few rough, preliminary strokes.

“Gods, your cock is gorgeous,” she gasped with admiration, watching him work himself with practiced determination.

“You like my cock?” he drew the thick, smooth head of it over her full lips and she whimpered with anticipation, nodding, kissing it affectionately, with slow, open mouth kisses, as he continued to pump it lazily.

She admitted, “more than anything. Az, Az,” she begged impatiently, as he smeared a trickle of liquid that dribbled from the tip over her lips, “please,”

“Please what?”

She rested her hands on his thighs, kneeling close enough so that her breasts brushed against them, “I want it in my mouth. Please.”

He lightly smacked the thick girth of his shaft over her half-opened mouth, making her shake with anticipation, smiling down at her. Her eyes burned with raw, overwhelming desire.

“But I like it when you ask me, baby. Tell me more,”

“That your cock is gorgeous and ridiculously huge?” she chuckled, relishing in his rubbing the tip insistently over her lips, as she licked the little slit.

“Keep going,” he encouraged.

“That I love you and can’t wait to suck it?”

“Alright, babe,” she nodded at last, “I guess you’ll just have to suck my huge dick,” and with that, he slid between her lips.

She smiled around him and pulled on it deeper, dragging her tongue over and under the thick shaft. It was always just a little too big for her, so she gasped, as he filled her mouth more and more, sliding in steadily. She eased her throat as much as she could, accepting the thrust and feeling the smooth head dip down, brushing the back of her throat. He was watching her intently, every bob and swallow of her throat, making sure that she was comfortable enough to hold him in. “Big?” he murmured. Her eyes teared up, but she managed a small nod. Her hands squeezed his thighs nervously, tightly, stroking the backs of them, while he began to pull out slowly, before sliding back in.

Nothing was more exciting than Elain’s ability to mould her throat around his shaft, while those big brown eyes blinked at him, seeking approval. He put his hand over her head, stroking it, then caressing her face, her hollowed cheeks, while giving her mouth a few exploratory thrusts.

She readied herself and pulled back, releasing the cock with an audible pop, and then licking the underside, from the balls to the tip.

“Just like that, my love,” he nodded, watching her tuck her face in the crease of his hip and slide her tongue up and down the sides of his cock. “Is that good?”

“It’s the best,” she vowed, “I love licking!” she added enthusiastically, proceeding to do just that.

He always remembered that she was very innocent and whatever she knew, no matter how sensual, erotic or even perverse, it all came from him. He taught her—gently, firmly and thoroughly the art of the bedroom and whatever they did, he was completely assured that she enjoyed and wanted every moment of it. Thankfully, she was so innocent that she didn’t know how to pretend or fake anything, especially when it came to sex, and didn’t know how to play games. She was eager and loving and excitable because what they did together, with each other, pleased her, and for no other reason. Azriel cherished this level of honesty more than anything.

Therefore, when she said that she loved licking, she showed him just how much she enjoyed it, licking up and down voraciously, over the sides, watching him unblinking. He cupped the pouch of his balls in one hand and carefully eased it into her mouth.

“You are so good to me,” he groaned, as she wrapped her lips around the ball and began to suck eagerly, not caring if she was loud, smacking her lips, tongue working non-stop, caressing the flesh. She hummed appreciatively around the balls, sending a pleasant shiver down his thighs, her mouth completely filled with him. “That’s good, my girl,” he stroked her head, “just like that. Keep going,” his head fell back with satisfaction, and she swallowed hard around his balls, almost moaning at the sight of his neck, the expression of pleasure written on his face.

“Can I tell you a story?” he muttered huskily, looking back down at her, his eyes dark and his face tense. Elain nodded. He gripped his cock and then slid it back in her mouth, almost to the hilt, making her choke and gag at once, watching her eyes widen.

She was drooling, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the pressure of her member in her throat, or from the visual display of his stunning body above her. The thick pectorals, adorned with black and blue ink twitched as he began to pump in and out of her mouth, hard and steady. He held the back of her head, but the clutch of his hand was light and casual, only keeping her in place, as his narrow hips flexed with each deep push. A delicious bead of sweat ran down the cobbled network of his abdominal muscles, slowly making its way to the deep V etched into his hips, towards the thick cock that he was currently ramming into her mouth.

She drooled. She licked and laved and lapped. She didn’t care how messy or ridiculous she looked, because her man loved her and loved her on her knees in front of him.

“I couldn’t stop watching you talk,” he grumbled, “the first time I saw you. Your plump lips…Oh fuck, baby, you feel so, so good,” he rode her smoothly, with deep, expert strokes, “you wore that rose-tinted lipstick…and all I could think of afterward was those lips wrapped around my dick.”

She smiled over his member, lightly shaking her head, as much as her current position would allow.

“I am sorry, honey,” he smiled at her, “this pervy mind couldn’t think of anything else but getting my dick down your throat.”

And demonstrating just that, and the resolution of his dream, he pushed further.

“Alright?” he asked, carefully holding her jaw. She blinked her approval. He was unable to take his eyes off her, her lush lips wrapped tightly around the dark mass of him, her beautiful eyes tearing from pressure. He wiped the tears with his thumbs and then gave a brief nod, “give me those flowers, baby.”

Obviously, she couldn’t glance down, so she blindly grabbed a handful of flowers and handed them to him, her expression amused, a little surprised.

“What’s more romantic,” he murmured, stroking her hollowed cheeks and then pulling out a little, before pushing back in, “than putting pretty flowers into my Lainey’s hair,” and he plucked a small poppy from the heap, and pushed in into her hair, “while she deepthroats me?”

He was heavy and thick in her mouth, salty, delicious and familiar, and as he began thrusting firmly, the thick head hitting the back of her throat, Elain settled in for a ride. She wasn’t kidding when she asked for her throat to be raw by the end of it—she liked being sore somewhere in her body from him, at all times. Between her legs, inside her rectum, in her throat—it didn’t matter, though it was nice if it was everywhere, but she loved being marked by him in some way.

The hum and rumble in Azriel’s throat, that of masculine satisfaction and some kind of primal dominance made her so wet, she leaked down her thighs. But he didn’t tell her to touch herself, so she didn’t. He just fucked her throat steadily, the audible sound of her choking and sputtering around his cock and the satisfied snarls emanating from him, the only sounds around them. His hips rocked hard, pumping deep, as he garbled endearments and praise to her, “is that so good, honey? You feel amazing…”

She squeezed his thighs in affirmation. As he worked on her, he kept putting flowers in her hair, admiring her sucking and his work, “so gorgeous, baby. My beautiful girl…Good cock?”

“Mmmm,” she only managed, saliva bathing her chin and chest, her eyes rolling back with pleasure and exhaustion.

“Can you handle a little more?” he begged, “I don’t want to come yet, my love,” another flower in her hair. “I love you on your knees with my cock in her mouth.”

He set a brutal rhythm, muttered, “choke, baby…” and she did, gagging and panting over his member, the lack of oxygen making her pliant and obliging, her mouth existing for his pleasure. When they played a little rougher, he could request to squeeze her throat a little with his hand, while he choked her with his cock, but today, he was feeling romantic, as was she.

Her hair dripped with flowers of all kinds, as he fashioned her into some kind of Summer Lady. Or maybe a Dusk Lady, since the sun began its descent and shadows spread over the pretty little valley.

“Fuck me, you are so beautiful,” he grunted, looking down at her. “My flower girl, with my cock in her mouth. Bob a little, love, show me how much you like it,” he encouraged and she immediately began to bob her head up and down on him, drool sliding down his shaft, her eyes pleading for his approval, which he gave generously.

He gently, kindly stroked her face, her throat, feeling his cock deep inside it, moving in her, rubbing at the indentation with his thumb. Then, he cupped her face between his large hands and murmured, “open up”, thumbs brushing over her damp cheeks, as tears slid down when he started to thrust intently, battering her throat. “My girl is sucking so well,” he was relentless now, pounding and pounding, an Elain thought that she might just pass out from the sensation, feeling lightheaded. Azriel had inhuman stamina when he was between her legs, but that also translated to when he was in her mouth, which meant he could ravage her completely. “I’ll feed you all the gelato myself, if you can suck a little more,” he promised with a smirk, pulling out completely. “Breathe,” he ordered, and she gulped in some air, before he thrust back inside, “are you tired?”

She shook her head ‘no’. She was never tired for him. She moaned, though his cock pushed down all sound with brutal, excited enthusiasm, as he cupped his balls tightly in his hand, readying to finally come. “Fuck, baby, you suck so well,” he squeezed her shoulder, stooping over her, the muscled of his abdomen twitching and tensing, his balls tight against her chin. Grabbing her shoulder with one hand, he cupped her under the jaw and kept her head still, as he exploded in her mouth. He poured down her throat with a pleased, blissful moan, throwing his head back, pumping harshly and erratically, filling her mouth over and over. She sucked and drank, swallowing quickly, gluttonously. Azriel always tasted heavenly, but perhaps it was something about being in Italy and all the fruit and wine that they’ve been consuming, but she couldn’t get enough of him now. He shot rope after rope down her throat and she lapped it all with pleasure. He dropped on his knees, exhausted, his cock still in her mouth, and she stroked and caressed his body soothingly, swallowing the last of him.

“Gods, Elain,” was all he managed, as he finally withdrew in an endlessly long pull from her lips.

She gasped, and licked her lips, before placing a loving, playful kiss on the pink, wet head of the shaft.

“Did you have fun, my love?” she cooed tenderly, as Azriel slumped on the blanket, head her on her lap.

“Baby, why do you spoil me like this?” he moaned, reaching for her bare plump breast and cupping lightly.

“Probably because I love you more than it’s prudent,” she smiled, her voice hoarse. “More than anything. Love you like I didn’t know I could love anybody. Also,”

“Yes?”

His chest constricted from her simple admissions, from the pure earnestness of her words, from the love that was shining in her brown eyes. He was undeserving of this woman, of her overwhelming love for him, of everything that she gave him so selflessly. But he listened and listened, because everything she told him was like a balm on all the wounds of his soul, and music to his heart.

Her lips were gorgeously, obscenely swollen, and he dragged his thumb over their plumpness. She added, “you are very hot.”

“Ahhh,” he chuckled. “So you are using me for my body?”

“I’d be stupid not to use you for your body. You got one hell of a body, my mysterious, shadowy Azriel.”

“Well, flower girl, you go ahead and use my body as much as you want, for anything you desire. It’s yours.”

He kissed her hand. Then, reached up and kissed her pretty pink nipple.

“As is my heart,” he added softly. “Anything you want. It’s all yours.”

She lay next to him, both of them sprawled in the blanket of flowers. She picked a poppy and stuck it behind his ear.

“Pretty boy Azriel.”

He propped his cheek and turned to face her. She was still covered in flowers, from all his handiwork.

“We are good together, aren’t we?” she murmured, laying her hand on his neck.

“We are. We are very good together, Lainey.”

She bit her swollen lip and then said, voice quiet, a little uncertain,

“Maybe you want to marry me?” she proposed.

He stilled, waiting for more.

She squeezed the back of his neck a little tighter and continued, no stopping her now, “I know we were thinking later, maybe next y-,”

“Yes,” he nodded, “yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Elain, I want to marry you now.”

She gasped, tears of joy moistening her eyes, “In Florence?” she begged.

“Yes. In Florence,” he cupped her face in his. “Let’s go get married!”

173 notes · View notes

dreamerstreamer · 3 years

Text

Like You A Latte

Pairing: barista!Sapnap x gn!reader

Summary: [Coffee Shop!AU] Sapnap usually hates the closing shift, but when one crazy storm sends you barreling into his life, he might just change his mind.

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: this was requested by a sweet anon who wanted something in a real life setting! i took some creative liberty with the au, but i hope you all enjoy nonetheless!

Sapnap grimaced as he stared out at the café window, his lips curling downward into a frown at the sight of the pouring rain. Driving home is gonna suck, he thought.

With a sigh, he turned back to wiping down the table in front of him, trying to ignore the incessant pitter patter on the roof above him. Screw Clay for ditching him with the closing shift. Sure, he might have that presentation tomorrow morning and Sapnap might have let him leave early, but he still sucked. The closing shift sucked.

It didn’t help that it was pouring buckets outside. No wonder the café was empty—there wasn’t a single soul in their right mind who would be outside at this hour and in this weather.

Except for him, apparently.

He sighed, eyeing the clock on the wall. There was an hour left until he had to close up shop, and he was bored out of his mind. He had already scrolled through all of his feeds and was sick of the music they were playing over the speakers. Usually he had at least one or two customers to chat with if they were in the café, but today there was none.

Looks like I’ll be alone for an hour, then, he thought to himself bitterly, leaning his forehead against the wall. Fun.

It was at that moment that the unmistakable sound of the door chimes echoed through the air, and Sapnap’s eyes went wide.

No way.

He lifted his head, turning to see a silhouetted figure standing in the doorway, their clothes sopping wet as they painted. He winced at the sight. Not even an umbrella would have been able to shield yourself from this kind of rain, but it was still painful to see just how soaked to the bone you would get.

Just then, the figure stepped inside, and his mouth went try at the sight.

One thing stuck out about you, and it wasn’t the fact that you were dripping water on the floor he had just mopped.

You were cute.

He just barely remembered to stop gaping as you approached the counter, brushing back some hair that was stuck to the side of your face. You opened your mouth to speak, but what came out of your mouth startled him.

“How many shots of espresso can you fit into an extra large latte?”

He blinked at you, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, what?”

You cleared your throat. “How many shots of espre—?”

“No, no, uh,” he stammered, waving his hand in front of him, “I heard you, it’s just that...” He paused, trying to find the right words. “...why do you want that much caffeine?”

You let out a deep sigh, dragging a hand across your weary face. “Look,” you said, “this paper is due at the crack of dawn, the wifi at my place is out, the library just closed, and I’m either handing it on time or I am going to die trying.”

He raised his eyebrows at you and sucked in a deep breath. “Okay,” he began, “um, an extra large latte, was it?”

You nodded. He turned, grabbing the tallest of the paper cups he had stacked behind him, eyeing it. “Alright,” he mumbled, “that’ll probably fit around... thirty shots of espresso?”

You paused, blinking, and he could practically see the gears turning in your head. “Okay. Okay, cool.” There was a beat of silence, a look of contemplation crossing your features, then you nodded again. “Can you give me like twenty shots, then?”

The words flew from his lips before he could stop them. “What the hell.”

When you only stared at him, he coughed. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to even give someone more than four at once.”

You sighed for what must have been the millionth time as you shoved a hand into your pocket, digging around for a moment before fishing out a wallet. Opening it up, you pulled out a ten dollar bill. “This,” you said, waving the bill in front of him, “will be your tip.”

His jaw dropped, but no sound came out. After a few seconds of tense silence, something desperate shot across your face. “Please,” you said quietly, “for the sake of my paper. I need it.”

Sympathy welled up inside of him at the look on your face. Every college student knew the struggle of handing something in last minute. What kind of person would he be to say no?

“Okay,” he said, grabbing a sharpie from his apron pocket and uncapping it with his thumb, “this is gonna take a bit. Please, take a seat...?” He trailed off, expectantly waiting for your name, his eyes locking onto you.

Your lips curled into a small smile, and he felt something jump in his chest. “[Y/N].” You raised your brows at him. “You do realize I’m the only one in the store, right?”

His cheeks flushed, and he tore his gaze away from yours, fumbling to scribble your name on the cup. “Oh. Um, right. Sorry.” He offered you a sheepish smile. “Force of habit.”

You laughed while you slid your backpack off your shoulder and it sent a tingle up his spine. “Nah, I get it.” As you plopped onto the bar stool seat, your eyes darted to his chest, flashing with recognition. “Thanks, Sapnap.”

He nearly dropped his sharpie, his heart doing a backflip in his rib cage. How did you—? He glanced down, nearly shriveling with relief. Right. I’m wearing a name tag.

Sending one more glance in your direction as you pulled out your laptop, he turned, cracking his knuckles. Twenty shots was going to take more than just a few minutes to brew, and he’d be damned if he didn’t stick to his guns and deliver this absolute monstrosity of an order to you.

A good fifteen minutes later, Sapnap found himself staring down into a pitch black cup. Where the smell of coffee beans was usually even distributed throughout the store, it was now almost entirely concentrated in one cup. With a delicate hand, he oh-so slowly poured in some frothed milk, carefully moving it as a design began to form on the coffee’s surface. A few moments passed in devoted silence, and he pulled away to reveal a perfect milk heart staring back at him.

Indeed, he was holding an extra large latte with twenty shots of espresso. He was half impressed and half horrified by his own creation.

With a small smile, he picked the cup up, sliding it over the counter toward you. “Voilà,” he said, bowing dramatically, “your order is served.”

You looked up from where you were typing on your laptop, blinking blearily at him before recognition set in. A grin tugged at your lips as you picked the cup up. “Oh my god,” you breathed, taking a heavenly sip, “you are such a lifesaver. You have no idea how close I was to passing out just now.”

Sapnap chuckled at your enthusiasm, picking up a rag and walking over to the sink. “I don’t know how you’re going to enjoy drinking that, but I hope you stay conscious.”

You raised your cup up toward him in a silent toast, the mirth in your eyes sending something light and warm dancing across his bones. As you turned back to your paper, he began cleaning up the mess he had made while brewing twenty shots of espresso.

Time passed in a blur as he shifted cups around and wiped down machinery, only sped along by the sound of your frantic typing. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he saw as you raised your now empty coffee cup in your hand and tossed it across the room. In an elegant arc, it landed squarely in the trash can a few feet away.

“Nice throw,” he said, smiling at the satisfied look on your face.

You sent him a thumbs up with a hum, your face looking delightfully warm and much more awake. “Thank you.”

Another moment passed in silence when a realization suddenly hit him. “Wait a second. You finished it? All twenty shots?”

You didn’t even look away from your screen. “Yep.”

His look was one of complete and utter disbelief. “That quickly?”

You deadpanned. “I think the most I’ve slept in the past three days is something like three hours. I’m kind of dying.”

He chuckled. “Understandable.” His lips curled downward as his expression grew serious. “For real though, once this caffeine wears off, I want you to sleep for like, half a day, okay?”

Your fingers faltered in their typing for a moment, and your eyes briefly met his. “You don’t even know me.”

Something in his stomach churned. But I would like to, he wanted to say.

Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest with a teasing look. “Can you really blame me for being concerned? Twenty shots is more than a lot.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but he didn’t miss the way your lips twitched. “Ugh, fine.”

He bit back a laugh. “Fine is good enough for me.”

You returned back to typing, squinting harshly at the glare from your screen as you mouthed some of the words you had written. His eyes darted to the clock once more and blinked in surprise. Was there really only fifteen minutes left until closing? He hoped you could finish in time.

Sapnap turned and bit the inside of his cheek, the cogs in his head churning. I feel like I’m forgetting to do something. An image of the water you had tracked into the café flashed through his mind, and he found himself eyeing the mop and bucket sitting by the corner where he had left it nearly an hour prior.

Do I really want to wipe the floor again? He paused for a long moment. Not really. He thought of the streaky puddle left in your wake one last time, then shook his head. Ah, whatever. George has the opening shift tomorrow—it’s a him problem, now.

A soft yell broke him out of his thoughts. “Hell yeah!”

He lifted his head in time to see you close your laptop screen, a wide grin stretched across your face. “Did you finish?”

You flopped onto the table, letting out a relieved groan. “Yes, finally. I thought I was never going to be done.”

He opened his mouth to respond when your face suddenly scrunched up. Before he could ask if you were okay, you ducked your face into the bend of your elbow, a sneeze escaping your lips. Sapnap’s heart leapt at the sound.

Cute—your sneeze was cute.

His lips quirked up at you as he sent you a worried glance. “You cold?”

You wiped at your nose, shivering a little. “A bit, yeah.” You offered him a lopsided smile. “The rain kind of did a number on me.”

He fiddled with his keys in his pocket, gulping. “I’m, uh, gonna close up in a few minutes. Did you want me to give you a ride back to your place?” He paused for a moment, then quickly added, “I promise I’m not a creep.”

Your laugh made him want to dance. “Oh, yes please.” Suddenly, your smile dimmed, and you curled back a bit. “You—you won’t mind if I get your car a little wet, will you?”

Sapnap stared at you and your dripping clothes, something tugging inside his chest. If it was Clay or George asking, he’d probably kill them if they even attempted to get into his car while soaking wet.

But for some reason, the way you looked at him with your wet hair sticking to your face and a hopeful glimmer in your eyes made his heart skip a beat.

“Not at all.”

“George wanted me to tell you that you suck.”

He turned, feigning an innocent look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Clay sent him an amused look. “Something about a puddle? And that you’re a huge prick for not wiping it up for him.”

Sapnap rolled his eyes. “He’s just being whiny. I was stuck by myself yesterday because you bailed on me.”

Clay gaped at him. “I had a presentation and you literally let me go! That’s a valid reason!”

When Sapnap only gave him a levelled stare in response, he sighed. “I’m here now, okay? I’ll even man cash for you so you can just do the easy clean-up stuff, too.”

Sapnap grumbled but didn’t protest. “C’mon, man.” Clay leaned over to gently prod his shoulder. “I bet you today’s closing shift is better than last night’s!”

He waved a hand dismissively, focusing his attention back on the order he was working on. “Sure, sure.”

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Clay was right about one thing—today’s shift was better already. It wasn’t raining like crazy again, and the café wasn’t completely deserted. Well, you were there yesterday, but he had already accepted that the two of you probably wouldn’t interact again. It’s not like you were a regular or something.

He was vaguely aware of the door opening, the chimes tinkling like bells as it swung open and shut. Footsteps approached the counter as he pushed some stray trash into the garbage can, not particularly paying any attention. That was when a familiar voice spoke up.

“Can I get an extra large latte, please?”

Sapnap froze then whipped around, eyes wide as he took in the sight of you standing in front of the cash register. Before Clay could even confirm your order, he blurted out, “[Y/N]? You’re back?”

You grinned at him from the other side of the counter, your wallet in hand. “I like coffee, okay? And you’re not too shabby of a barista.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “‘Not too shabby’? Rude.”

You giggled, tapping your credit card on the PIN machine. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I did mostly want to say thanks for the other night, since you are pretty great, Sapnap.” Your eyes flashed. “But...”

“...but?” he prompted.

“But,” you said, grinning teasingly, “you might cement yourself as my favourite barista if I maybe got a free snack.”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “A free snack, you say?”

Your smile widened. “Yes, sir.”

Sapnap paused, cocking his head. “I’ll... keep that in mind. Go ahead and grab a seat for the time being though, alright?”

You nodded in assent and slid into the bar stool you had sat in the night prior, pulling out your laptop once more. Once you were out of earshot, Clay leaned over to Sapnap. “You know ‘em?” he asked.

Sapnap couldn’t help but smile a little. “Yeah—[Y/N] is kind of the reason why George thinks I’m a prick, right now.”

“Nah,” he said, “George knows you’re a prick. He just thinks you’re being particularly prick-y today.”

Sapnap playfully pushed him away with a shove. “Screw off.”

Clay didn’t even flinch, only wheezing under his breath as he greeted the next person in line. Sapnap rolled his eyes again as he grabbed an extra large cup from the stack, his hands moving like clockwork as he poured in some freshly brewed espresso and frothed milk. Making a regular latte was infinitely faster than making one with twenty shots, to say the least, and practically no time had passed before he was walking over to your seat.

“One extra large latte for [Y/N],” he said, sliding the cup onto the space next to your laptop with ease, one hand tucked behind his back.

Your face lit up. “Thank y—”

“And,” he suddenly added, pulling his other arm out to reveal a pastry, “one chocolate croissant.” He gave you a sly wink as he held it in front of you. “On the house, as requested.”

Your smile fell. “Oh, wait, no. I was joking. You don’t actually have to—”

“Shh,” he whispered, dangling the croissant in front of your face, “just take it. No one else is going to buy it anyway. Consider this thanks for yesterday’s tip.”

You gingerly took the croissant from his hands, your cheeks growing warm. “Okay, fine.” You held the pastry up to your lips, sinking your teeth in and beginning to chew. Your eyes widened in shock as you swallowed. “Oh, wow. This is really good.”

He placed his hands on his hips triumphantly. “Aren’t you glad you took it, now?”

Sticking your tongue out at him, you took another bite. “Thanks, Sapnap. Seriously, what would I do without you?”

He shrugged. “I dunno, actually be well-rested instead of chugging caffeine?”

“For the record,” you pointed out with a slight glare, “I did sleep for like half the day like you asked me to, but now I’m behind on everything.”

He cocked his brows at you. “So, you’re just sticking around to finish some stuff, again?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah—the wifi at my place sucks and my roommate hogs all the bandwidth, plus you guys are open later than the library, soooo.....”

You gestured vaguely, and he nodded in sympathy, crossing his arms over his chest. “Makes sense.”

He could have let the conversation die there, could have just gone back to wiping down the tables and cleaning up after Clay. But instead, he found himself slipping into the seat next to you, curiosity nibbling away at his restraint.

“I don’t think I ever asked,” he said, resting his hand on his chin, “but what are you studying?”

You grinned at him, his ears growing warm as you began telling him about your major. You asked him about his and what he wanted to do after graduation, and it didn’t take long before the two of you slipped into casual conversation, almost as if you were old friends. While he did have to go take some orders every once in a while, he was mostly able to chat with you while the both of you worked. It was nice—spending time with you was nice.

And it seemed like his heart agreed, too.

The ringing of the door chimes made Sapnap raise his head. He opened his mouth to give the official café greeting before closing it, a fond smile overtaking his features. “Hey, cutie.”

You grinned back at him as you strode up to the counter. “Hey, loser.”

He pretended to wince at your words, clutching his chest in mock hurt. “Ouch.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, your lips curling up as you dug a hand into your bag. “Kidding. Can I get a—”

“Extra large latte with a normal number of espresso shots,” he finished expertly, reaching around to push a cup onto the space in front of you. When you didn’t say anything, your wallet balanced delicately in the palm of your hand, he coughed awkwardly. “I know your order.”

You stared at him in utter shock. “You do?”

He pretended that his lungs didn’t feel like they were on fire. “Y-Yeah.”

A smile tugged at your lips, and you opened up your wallet. “I wish I had a memory as good as yours, Sapnap.” You pulled at out a ten dollar bill and slapped it onto the counter, grabbing your coffee with the other. “Thank you so much, and keep the change, okay?” You took a step back, sending him an apologetic look. “I have to get going, but you’re the best.”

He picked up the bill, waggling it in front of his face. “I know.”

You paused, tastefully adding as you turned, “...loser.”

“Hey!”

You laughed at him while you bounded out of the café, and he felt his irritation die in his chest, something blossoming in its stead. “Kidding!”

As the door swung shut behind you, he sighed, a dreamy haze filling his mind. Weeks had passed since you two had first met, and he could feel himself falling harder and harder. He always knew that he wanted to get to know you better, but now that feeling had grown tenfold. There was something so subtle and real about everything you did—about the way you talked and laughed, about the way you pointed and smiled.

He wondered how much more of you he hadn’t seen, and he wondered if you’d show him.

A voice ripped him out of his thoughts. “Are you gonna snap out of it anytime soon?”

He turned, blinking back to reality. “What?”

George stared back at him with paused lips. “Sapnap, you’ve been spaced out for two minutes.”

Clay turned to look at them both. “You look like you just had some big revelation or something. Are you good?”

Sapnap opened his mouth, then closed it, feeling a lump forming in his throat. As much as he ragged on them for being reckless and stupid, Clay and George were his best friends, and they deserved to know what was going on.

Was this going to go poorly? Probably.

But was he going to do it anyways?

Unfortunately, yes.

“Guys.” He sucked in a deep breath, squeezing his fists by his side as he looked up. “I like [Y/N].”

There was a beat of silence, and Sapnap felt the anxiety well up inside him. They were totally about to flame him, weren’t they?

The two of them shared a look, then Clay turned to him. “We know.”

Sapnap blinked. “You knew?” he said slowly. “Both of you?”

George bobbed his head, cocking a brow at him. “Um, yeah? It’s kind of obvious.”

Sapnap gaped, sputtering. “H-How? In what way?”

George opened his mouth when Clay raised a hand, silencing him as a wide grin stretched across his face. His green eyes brimming with mischief, he sidled up to Sapnap’s side, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Hey, George,” he said, “watch this.”

He leaned close to Sapnap’s ear, and whispered just loud enough for all three of them to hear. “[Y/N].”

Almost instantaneously, Sapnap felt his heartbeat speed up as George’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god. Look at his ears.”

While Clay pulled away and let out a loud wheeze, clutching at his chest, Sapnap’s hands slammed over his ears, hiding them from view. “Do not look at my ears.”

Gasping for air, Clay managed to choke out between shaky breaths, “He’s blushing!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Are—” Wheeze. “—Are too!”

“No—”

“You totally are.”

“George, shut the fu—”

“Alright, ladies, you’re both pretty,” Clay suddenly cut in, clapping his hands. “If you two would stop bickering, then we can actually address the issue at hand, here.”

“Which is that Sapnap is a hopeless simp?” George prompted.

Clay nodded. “Which is that Sapnap is a hopeless simp.”

Sapnap scowled. “I am not hopeless, and I am also not a simp.”

Clay tucked a hand under his chin. “Well, we’re going to make sure you’re not hopeless.” A devilish glint shined in his gaze. “Not for much longer, that is.”

Sapnap swallowed. This couldn’t be good.

“Wait,” George said, furrowing his brows, “what about the simp part?”

Clay blinked. “Oh, no. He can stay that. We’re just going to make him confess.”

Sapnap, who had been staring in stunned silence up until this point, blinked for a moment, then frowned. “Wait a second, you’re going to what?”

Clay leaned forward, patting his shoulder reassuringly. “Trust me, buddy. Everything is going to be just fine.”

With that, Sapnap’s frown only deepened.

Everything was going to be just awful.

Sapnap swallowed anxiously as he slid another cup across the counter toward the pick-up station, George dutifully picking it up as he read out another name. Sapnap had half the mind to realize that they really shouldn’t have let George be the one to read the names, especially when he was so garbage at it, but the other half didn’t particularly care. It was far too preoccupied thinking about one thing and one thing only.

Well, two things actually.

You and his confession.

The plan was simple in theory, at least, but in practice? He had no clue. He’d had it prepared for days now, but he had yet to see you, and he was pretty sure he was slowly going insane.

“Just calm down,” Clay had told him. “Like I said, you’re going to be fine.”

As much as he trusted him, Sapnap didn’t believe him for one second, and he was pretty sure Clay knew it. If he did, he didn’t say anything, but oh boy, could Sapnap see it in his eyes.

Just then, the familiar sound of chimes and footsteps filled the air, and Sapnap felt his anxiety spike.

You were here.

Taking a moment to breathe and calm himself, he casually began to wipe down the counter before him, dragging damp rag across the countertop. At the same time, he felt his heart hopelessly trying not to and failing to skip a beat at the sight of your weary face. “Mornin’, [Y/N],” he greeted.

You didn’t bother to say a greeting back before you flopped into your usual seat, letting out one long groan. “Uuuggghhhh.”

A flicker of fondness filled his heart. “Rough week?” he prompted, his hand slowing down as he wiped away a small stain.

You groaned again in reply, rubbing at your temples. “Oh, you have no idea. My profs have just been unbelievably infuriating, and I feel like I’m constantly on the verge of a mental breakdown.”

He reached over to pat your shoulder, nodding sympathetically. “I get that—sometimes it’s like they forget you have other classes.”

Your head shot up, your face twisted into a pout. “I know right? Like, give me a break!” You slumped forward, your cheek pressed against the table. “I just want to take a nap.”

He smiled fondly at you. God, you are so cute. “Did you want a latte?” he offered. “The usual?”

You paused for a moment, thinking, then shook your head. “Caffeine is only going to make me even more stressed, and I don’t think I can handle anymore.”

He hummed in understanding, then turned. He quickly grabbed something off the shelf behind him before sliding it over the counter to you. “I know it won’t make your week any easier,” he said, “but here. It might make you feel a little better.”

You perked up at that, raising your head to eye the napkin-wrapped item in front of you. Pulling back the soft tissue, your eyes lit up. “A chocolate croissant!”

He turned away with a soft smile. “Your favourite, right?”

You sunk forward, your gaze dazzling in the midday sun. “Because of you.”

He nearly choked on his spit as he whirled, only to see you pulling back the napkin to take a bite. Sometimes, you really spoke without thinking, and it sent his head absolutely spinning.

You sighed as you sunk your teeth into the flaky dough, your eyes fluttering shut. Chewing away as you leisurely swung your legs, you glanced up at him. “Hey,” you murmured, “what time is it, right now?”

“It’s, uh—” His gaze darted to the clock on the other side of the wall. “—ten to eleven.”

Your eyes shot wide open, swallowing the bite you took as your jaw dropped. “Oh, shoot. I’m gonna be late. I have a class at eleven and it’s on the other side of campus.”

Sapnap’s expression mirrored yours. “Oh, shoot,” he parroted.

You nodded as you slid off the seat, scrambling to slid your bag onto your shoulders as you spoke in a hurried frenzy. “Okay I have to get going but thanks so much for the snack Sapnap you’re the best and um I really appreciate it but I, um, I have t—”

“[Y/N],” he said abruptly, and you fell silent, your voice dying in your mouth. His gaze was soft as he gestured to the front of the café. “You’re gonna be late.”

You didn’t waste another second to turn on your heel and scramble to the front. “Thank you!” you called out behind you one last time as you pushed past the entrance and rushed down the busy street.

The moment the door fell shut once more, Sapnap nearly collapsed against the counter, gripping onto the granite for dear life. “Clay,” he said, turning his head to send his best friend a shaky smile full of nothing but anxiety, “I’m gonna die.”

“You are not going to die,” Clay said immediately, walking over to pull Sapnap up from the counter. He clapped him on the shoulder, looking him dead in the eyes. “Like I said, you are going to be just fine. Don’t lose your head over it.”

Sapnap whipped his head up, grabbing his shoulders. “This is probably the worst confession I have ever tried to make in my life,” he said bluntly, his tone clipped with anxiety. “No, wait—this is the worst confession I have ever tried to make in my life.”

Just then, the back room door swung open to reveal a very tired-looking George who sighed with a bag of coffee beans tucked securely in his arms. “Okay, pack it up, lover boy,” he muttered, tilting his head at Sapnap. “You’re on break, now.”

Sapnap didn’t even bother to come up with a witty retort, simply letting go of Clay’s shoulders with a quiet whine before sliding into the back room, his shoulders slumped over. As he walked past, Clay leaned back against the countertop, a curious grin dancing on his lips. “You think [Y/N] will even see it?”

George grimaced, setting the bag down on the table. “I hope so. Otherwise Sapnap here is going to die of embarrassment, and I am never going hear the end of it.”

From the back, a muffled groan rang out. Clay and George’s eyes met once more as they let out another sigh.

They really, really hoped so.

How you made it to class on time with two whole minutes to spare, you’d never know.

You collapsed into the nearest available seat with a massive sigh, the air rushing out of your lungs all at once. Maybe you should try out for the track team like your roommate keeps telling you to.

With a tired smile, you sat up, pulling out your laptop from your bag and setting your half eaten croissant on the table in front of you. You were just about to open your laptop when a smudge of black on the pristine white of your napkin caught your attention. You narrowed your eyes, lifting up the croissant to see even more of it.

There’s something written on it...?

Curiously, you found yourself unfolding the napkin, gasping at what you saw. A sprawling string of text littered the thin paper, all written in a familiar sharpie ink.

hey, [y/n]—if you’re reading this then thank god that means you actually kept the napkin and didn’t throw it out or something. super long story short, i like hanging out with you and would love to get to know you better, so here’s my number XXX-XXX-XXXX and also i like you a latte and also i like you a lot :)

You snorted, your cheeks burning up with bashful glee. Even though he crossed it out, you could still read the pick-up line he had jotted down. It was so very like him to get embarrassed and scrap it last minute. There was something endearing about it, really.

Cute, you thought to yourself, something warm and hazy wrapping around your heart. You dug your hand into your pocket, slipping out your phone. Very, very cute.

A few minutes later, a notification lit up Sapnap’s phone. Swiping his finger across the screen, he found himself stating at a message from an unknown number. His eyes darted over the words on his screen, widening. A yell suddenly flew from his lips, and George yelped as he nearly poured some espresso on his hand.

“Sapnap,” he hissed, whipping around with a glare, slamming the cup down on the counter, “what the he—”

He fell silent as he saw the wide grin stretched across Sapnap’s face, his eyes practically glowing with joy. Before he could even ask, Sapnap shoved the phone in his face, six words printed across the screen in black text.

i like you a latte, too :)

645 notes · View notes

mr-lancers-english-class · 3 years

Text

Second and last part of Phic Phight 2021!

Full text below the cut. Warnings for swearing and some drinking mentions.

Mary Baker had a list. She kept it in the back of her calculus notebook. It had started as a joke, something to amuse herself with any time differential equations or taylor series got to be a bit too much. In her three years at uni, it had evolved into a full-on conspiracy theory.

Somehow, despite the multiple thousands of people who went to her school, Mary had had a class with one Daniel Fenton every semester of her college experience. They weren’t even in the same major, but there was quite a lot of overlap between astrophysics and biochemical engineering, weirdly enough, and so every September and every January, Mary found herself walking into at least one class to find Fenton already there.

The list at the back of her calculus notebook was, in theory, very simple. In practice, it was the bane of her existence, and she was sure if she could figure out what it all meant, she’d be the youngest Nobel Prize winner in history.

THAT FENTON KID: WTF IS HIS DEAL???

Doesn’t sleep??? Ever???

Frosh roomie Jake says he always went to bed first and by the time he woke up, Fenton would already be awake

Jake is an avid partyer, joined the frat with the highest DUI rate

Jake goes to bed at 2am on a good day

Got an on-campus single soph + junior year

RA 1 Beth, says he never caused any issues

RA 2 Mac, Fenton brought them fudge a lot but only late at night

Espresso dealer knows Fenton by name and order

I have never once seen Fenton in that coffee shop when the sun is shining

LIBRARY!!!

Al says Fenton is in the library studying until like 4am when they close

Al also doesn’t sleep, testimony should be taken with caution

Climber/Boulderer/Parkour

Once twice thrice Came to class through 3rd+ story window

Calc 1: 12

History of Ghanian Art: 6

Intro bagpiping: 1 (carrying bagpipes in one arm and bag on back)

Chem 1: 4

Calc 3: 10

Phys 1: 8

Espresso dealer says Fenton chills on the roof of Smith Hall

No roof access to Smith Hall per janitors + admin

Smith Hall is in the middle of a field w/ no trees

Captain of Parkour Club

Also, founded Parkour Club

There’s like two other members and they’re both from the same tiny town in the middle-of-bumfuck-nowhere Illinois

Where tf is Fenton from???

Only does work in Spooky von Haunted Library

Racist pos can go die in a hole, I will only ever refer to that hellscape by the actual fun shit that happens there

But yeah Fenton never works anywhere else

Per Al, who works the night shift there three days a week

Checked with Greg @ SP Lib and Wren @ 28th St Lib, they’ve never seen him at their libraries

Talks to ghosts?

Per Al, has convos w/ legit nothing

Finally broke down? Wish it were me

Seems to get inspired by said convos w/ nothing

No sense of danger? There’s a better way to word that but idk man

Took 20 cr first semester, 3.8 gpa

SEE?!?!? DOESN’T SLEEP!!!

Took calc 3 with Smith

Which is the dumbest move possible, Smith grades way too hard

Also, somehow pulled an A

Parkour club

Dude ends up on top of tallest buildings on campus every week

And then fucking leans over the side to figure out how to get down wtf???

HazMat

I wrote this down like a year ago and then forgot fuck

I REMEMBERED!!!

Hazmat spill in chem lab, Fenton legit didn’t realize

Finished the lab, turned it in, walked out none the wiser

Might have drank hydrochloric acid once????

Nani says so

Normally I’d trust her, but there’s no fucking way

Def downed a whole bottle of ammonia

What, cocaine not enough for you???

But yeah chem 1

So yeah actually I believe Nani he totally drank hydrochloric acid

Bear

Oh lol yeah a bear got on quad

Fucking Fenton chased it away allll bu self

Also some jakcass had paintted it fucking brught green

lol frat boys amiright?

i’m too fucking drunk for thsi rn later mary can deal wtih the bear

Walked through a wall

Okay what the unmitigated fucking hell????

Fenton just fucking walked through a wall in the middle of the math building I swear to god

I am dead sober right now, it’s fucking noon on a fucking tuesday and he just walked through a fucking wall

Dude flies

I don’t think i was suppsed to see tihs one boys

Its kinda late lol like 4am but not toooooooo late

And i mean yeah mayeb i’m a teeny weeny bit itnoxcaded

But i stg fenton jst fckng flew

Jumped oof the top of Smtih Haal

And then jst knda hovred for a hot mnt or 2

then f*cking uh flew away

look i derw a baby star

No curses in ym bok, nope!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

im gona go to slep now

he fcuking flies i cant deal rn

#i posted this to ao3 on time i swear #i just kinda forgot i have a tumblr #danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 21 #phic phight 2021

50 notes · View notes

jisungsjheekies · 4 years

Text

The Night We Met

Genre: Soulmate, fluff, a little angst

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Swearing, anxiety

Requested: Yes

Soulmate connection: born with a tattoo of the date you first meet your soulmate - Y/N’s is 22/09/19

A/N: I originally had this idea for the group TXT but decided it would fit well with Jisung. Inspired by Lord Huron’s The Night We Met. Enjoy!

Y/N’S POV

Beep Beep Beep Be—

You slammed your hand to the side of your bed, putting an end to the dreadful noise. Sunlight peeked through the window blinds, beaming straight into your eyes. You groaned, pulling a pillow over your eyes. You had almost fallen back asleep when your alarm started going off again. Grabbing the phone, you saw “Minhoe” flash across the screen. You answered, holding it up to your ear as you closed your eyes again.

“Hel-“

“Where the fuck are you?? You were supposed to be here 15 minutes ago!” your best friend whisper-yelled through the phone. Your eyes widened as you pulled the phone from your ear to see the time. 10:15 am.

“SHIT,” you yelled, bringing the phone back to your ear, “I’m on my way!!”

In full panic mode, you ended the call, jumping out of bed and running to your closet to grab your uniform. Looking somewhat presentable, you grabbed your bag and rushed out of your apartment. The coffee shop was only a few blocks away from your apartment, so it should only take you ten minutes to get there if you ran. Your feet moved faster than you could process as you bolted down the streets to work. You silently prayed to yourself that your boss wouldn’t be too mad. You were always on time for every shift. Maybe he would like this one slip-up go for the sake of you. Minho would no doubt be mad at you, considering he would have to pick up your slack and work twice as hard. You rounded the street corner, just down the road from the coffee shop.

Consumed with your own thoughts, you collided with another person as you collapsed to the ground. Disoriented, you reached to collect the items that had spilled from your bag, a hand reaching out in front of your face to grab your attention. You looked up at the person--a guy who wore a grey hoodie and black mask, the only visible part of his face was his eyes. The most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen. Dark like chocolate, you could stare into his eyes for hours. You swore you could see stars within them.

“Miss?” The guy waved a hand in front of your face, bringing you back to reality.

“What?” You asked.

“I asked if you were okay,” he said, hand still extended out to you. He gestured for you to grab it so he could help you from the ground. Placing your smaller hand in his, he lifted you from the ground.

“I’m okay, thank you. I’m so sorry for running into you, I’m kinda in a hurry” You rambled, giving the guy an apologetic look.

“It’s okay.” He just smiled down at you before looking down at your hands. You blushed, realizing you still hadn’t let go as you quickly withdrew your hand.

“I should get going. I’m already late” You announced, slowly backing away from him, “I’m sorry again for running into you!”

“I didn’t catch your--” He started to say but you were already halfway down the street, “name.”

You burst through the door of the coffee shop, startling a few of the customers. Most of them were regulars so once they recognized you, they smiled before continuing on with whatever they were doing. You made eye contact with Minho behind the counter as he stared at you impatiently. You gave him an apologetic look as you rushed to the back to put away your things, wrapping an apron around your waist. You joined Minho behind the counter.

“What took you so long?” Minho grumbled.

“I ran into someone on the street. Literally” You explained to your best friend. Part of him wanted to laugh at you but he was already annoyed so he rolled his eyes instead.

“I’m sorry, I owe you one” You apologized, not wanting him to be upset with you.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re on register,” Minho informed you as he resumed his position by the espresso machine. Getting straight to work, you made the extra effort to work even harder to make Minho’s job a little easier, especially after he covered for you. You were tidying up your workspace when a customer approached the counter. Looking up with a smile, you nearly choked.

“Hey, it’s you!” The same guy from earlier on the street pointed at you. You smiled awkwardly, nodding your head. He was accompanied by two of his friends, all of them wearing masks to cover their faces.

“What can I get for you?” you asked politely.

The tallest of the three stepped forward first, “Large iced americano please.”

“Make that two,” the next one said. You noticed he had a different accent compared to the other two.

“Correction: make that three,” the guy from the street said, making you let out a small laugh. Putting their orders in, you told them the total, watching as the dreamy-eyed guy handed you twenty dollar bill. You put the money in the register before handing him back his change. Extending your hand out, you noticed the one with the accent staring at the mark on your arm. You pulled your hand back quickly, hiding the mark from view.

“Your order will be out shortly,” you told them before turning to give the order to Minho, who was staring at you with wide eyes. Dismissing his gaze, you helped Minho prepare the guys’ drinks. You could hear hushed whispers from the other side of the counter as you poured each drink. Turning around, you passed the drinks to the guys with a smile as they bowed in thanks. For a moment they lingered, staring at you. You avoided their watchful gaze as you tended to another customer. Stealing a glance from the corner of your eye, you noticed the guys’ hesitation before they turned to leave the coffee shop.

Once all customers had been tended to, Minho hurriedly pulled you to the side.

“Oh my god Y/N did you see it?” Minho asked you excitedly. You stared at him, furrowing your brows in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” Minho--literally--facepalmed at your obliviousness.

“Are you kidding me? You didn’t see that guy’s mark?” He deadpanned at you.

“No I’m not kidding! What guy? What mark?” You asked, still confused.

“The one in the grey hoodie! He had a mark on his wrist!” Minho shouted loudly, you shushed him when he gained some unwanted attention from the customers.

“The guy has a mark, so what?” You said uninterested.

Minho groaned, placing his hands on your shoulders as he leaned in close, “The same mark as you dumbass!” Your eyes went wide as panic filled your body.

“What? How do you know that?” You questioned your best friend.

“When he handed you the money, his sleeve slid up and I saw it.”

“How are you so sure that it was the same as mine?” You didn’t want to get your hopes up if Minho was wrong about this.

“How stupid can you be? Our marks tell us the day we’ll meet our soulmate right?” Minho said, waiting for you to nod along. “Y/N are you aware of what today is?”

You shook your head no, pulling the phone from your pocket to glance at the date. Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head as you glanced up at Minho in a panic, “I was in such a hurry from being late this morning that the date slipped from my mind.”

“We’ve done nothing but stare down every person possible for either of our marks since the day we became friends. I’m well aware of what to look for at this point and because I knew what today was, I made sure to be on the lookout for you. Y/N that guy had YOUR mark!”

It made sense if you thought about it--today was the day you would meet your soulmate and you’d had two different encounters with him. Was it a sign? Was that guy really your soulmate?

“Minho, what if I never see him again? I didn’t even get his name,” you cried to your best friend, but he just reassured you with a smile.

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.”

“How can you be so sure of that?” You asked, slightly more hopeful than you were before.

“Because his friends were looking at your mark. I saw them whispering to each other before they left.” Minho patted you on the shoulder before pulling you back to your stations, “You’ll see him again.” A smile adorned your face at the thought. How were you supposed to stay sane in the meantime? Every time the bell sounded above the door, you head would dart up in hopes of seeing him walk through but your smile deflated more and more each time. You tried to busy yourself with simple tasks when you weren’t tending to customers--wiping the counters and tables, refilling customer’s drinks, sweeping the floors--but how were you supposed to do that until the end of your shift at 8pm? Eventually you’d run out of things to do and be left alone with your thoughts.

JISUNG’S POV

Inside the studio, Jisung and Chan sat hunched over the desk, working on some tracks as Hyunjin sat behind them in a chair, phone in hand as he scrolled through social media. He’d only tagged along to get out of the dorms--the rest of the members staying back to sleep or play video games on their day off. He began to regret coming with the members as they’d been at it for hours, wanting to get as much done for this album, even though they should be resting instead. Hyunjin had fallen asleep for a bit before waking up and offering to go grab them all something to eat.

“Speed up the bass just slightly,” Jisung told Chan. He did what Jisung said, leaning back in his chair as they listened along. Nodding his head in approval, Chan nudged Jisung with his elbow.

“Good thinking. I think it’s ready now,” Chan announced just as Hyunjin returned, bag of food in one hand and a tray of drinks in the other. They decided it was a good time for a break as Hyunjin passed out the food, Chan grabbing a drink for each of them. With a tray of food on his lap, Chan turned in his chair to face Jisung. “Are we going to talk about it now?” he asked, grabbing Hyunjin’s attention rather quickly.

“I’d rather we didn’t,” Jisung mumbled, scrolling through his phone to avoid his members’ stares.

“We have to at some point--might as well do it now” Hyunjin said. Jisung knew they’d have this conversation whether he wanted to or not. Sighing, he put his phone away and looked up, giving them his attention.

“Are you going to go see her?” Chan asked. Jisung shook his head no as Chan and Hyunjin shared a look of confusion.

“Why not?” Hyunjin questioned him.

“Why should I?” Jisung shrugged his shoulders.

“Why should you?” Chan asked, “Because that girl is your soulmate, that’s why!”

“You’re scared aren’t you?” Hyunjin narrowed his eyes at Jisung, seeing the way his member grew anxious the more they talked about you.

“What? Scared? Of course not!” Jisung rambled nervously. Hyunjin raised a brow at him. “Okay yes I’m scared!”

“Why?” Chan asked curiously.

“What if she doesn’t want anything to do with me?” Jisung admitted.

“Because you’re an idol? That’s what you’re worried about?” Jisung nodded, Hyunjin sighed in understanding.

“Jisung, you do remember I was once in your position right?” Hyunjin began, “When I met my soulmate, I was scared too. And, I had every reason to be, considering she hated me, but I did whatever I could to change that. Now look at us.”

He has a point, Jisung thought. You were destined to be together, so maybe you’d give him a chance if he tried. Worse case scenario, you’d hate him and never speak to him again. But he wouldn’t know that until he went to see you. Glancing at his members, Jisung stood from his chair.

“Where are you going?” Chan asked him.

“To see her,” Jisung said, peeking at the time on his phone, 7:39pm, before running out of the studio, praying to the gods that you were still at work.

Y/N’S POV

The last hour of your shift seemed to drag on forever, as only a few college students were scattered around the shop, each drowning down multiple cups of coffee as they studied. Minho had left about two hours ago, leaving you alone in the shop until the next employee came to take over for you. Peering up at the clock on the wall, you sighed in defeat, giving up all hope of seeing the guy ever again. You only had twenty more minutes until you could go home. You wanted nothing more than to be able to crawl under your covers, watch Netflix, and cry until the ache in your heart had subsided.

For the remaining twenty minutes, you wiped down the espresso machine for the third time that day, taking your time as your coworker arrived to relieve you for the day.

“Hey, Y/N! Busy day?” your coworker, Woojin asked, wrapping an apron around his waist. You smiled, removing your own.

“Hey, Woo. Eh not really, college students have been filtering in and out for most of the afternoon. It should be an easy shift for you,” you informed him. He nodded, bidding you goodbye as you collected your things, pulling on your jacket. You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to leave the coffee shop just yet. Something was holding you back, the potential chance of seeing him again, but you knew better. If he wanted to see you again, he probably would have come several hours ago. You felt foolish for thinking he’d come back for you. What if he was disappointed when he saw you? Maybe that’s why he never came. Sighing, you exited the coffee shop, giving the building one final look before tucking your head down and starting on your walk home.

Or maybe he wasn’t the one you hoped he was. Minho could’ve been wrong, too caught up in the excitement of finding your soulmate for you. You tried to think of all the people you’d encountered throughout the day that could’ve been possible soulmates, but only one stood out from the rest. Even if he didn’t want you, you at least wanted to know your soulmate’s name. You prayed that you’d encounter him at least one more time. You didn’t care how.

It happened before you could even process the situation. Your back hit the ground as a figure knocked you down, landing on top of you.

“Miss I’m so sor-”

“It’s you!” you gasped, looking into the eyes of the one you’d waited all day for. At the sound of your voice, the guy’s head snapped to look you dead in the eyes.

“You,” the guy whispered. For a moment, the two of you stared at each other before the guy shook his head.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” he laughed, causing you to laugh as well, before he lifted himself off you, realizing the two of you were still on the ground. He reached a hand out to help you up as you both brushed off your clothes.

“I was actually on my way to the coffee shop to find you,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You were?” you asked, surprise evident in your voice.

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you,” he smiled before biting his lip. “Actually, I needed to ask you something, too.” He rocked back and forth on his heels, tucking his hands in his pockets to hide the fact that they were shaking. You could feel the nervousness radiating off of him, his eyes darting between yours and the ground.

“Okay.” You offered him a warm smile in hopes of easing his nerves.

“Can I see your mark?” He closed his eyes as soon as he asked the question. He waited for you to reject him and walk away, but it never came. Instead, you lifted your sleeve, revealing your mark to him. When he opened his eyes, they immediately fell upon the mark.

“So it’s true,” he whispered. After a moment, you broke his stare.

“May I see yours?” you asked calmly, but on the inside you were freaking out. You felt as if your heart would burst out of your chest from the anticipation. You knew, deep down, that he was the one but you needed to see it to confirm your thoughts. He slowly pulled his sleeve up, revealing his own mark--an exact match to yours. It felt as if all air had escaped your lungs as you looked up at him, too many emotions swimming through your eyes.

“Can I see your face?” you asked. He still wore the same mask from earlier, hiding everything but his eyes. You’d been dying to know what he looked like all day. Again he hesitated, looking at you nervously before he sighed.

“No. Not here at least,” he told you. Your smile faltered for a second before an idea popped into your head.

“What if we went somewhere else?” you offered. You refused to give up now, not when you were so close.

“Like where?” he asked. You could suggest your apartment but you weren’t sure you were comfortable with that, considering you didn’t know anything about him yet. There weren’t many secluded places that stayed open late on a Sunday night.

“The coffee shop stays open 24/7, so how about there?” you suggested. The guy nodded his head as the two of you walked the short distance back to the coffee shop in a comfortable silence. When you entered the building, Woojin gave you a confused look but you just gave him a smile. You found an empty table secluded at the side of the building, the two of you sitting down across from one another. You patiently waited for him to remove the mask from his face, not wanting to overwhelm him with demands. Holding his breath, he reached up to pull the mask off as well as his hood, giving you a full view of him. He looked up at you nervously, holding his hands in a tight fist on top of the table.

“You look familiar,” you said, tilting your head to the side as you stare at him, “Have you ever been in the coffee shop before?” He shook his head no. “Then where have I seen you before?” you wondered out loud.

“Probably on TV,” the guy admitted. Your eyes went wide as you remembered something.

“Wait--you’re that guy from that group! Stray Kids, right? I’ve played your songs in here before,” you told him excitedly. A small smile crossed his face at your comment before he nodded in agreement.

“That would be me,” he said. “I’m Jisung.”

Jisung--now you finally had a name to match the face.

“What’s your name?” Jisung asked you.

“Y/N.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” He smiled, his compliment causing your cheeks to flush. You mumbled ‘shut up’ under your breath, causing him to laugh. You swore that it was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. Everything about him was perfect: his eyes, his voice, his smile, his laugh. You thanked the gods above for giving you this beautiful human being.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again” You told him sadly. Jisung could feel his heart drop at the sadness in your voice. The two of you had barely met and he’d already caused you pain. Guilty was an understatement.

“I was scared you would reject me,” Jisung admitted, lowering his head to avoid your gaze.

“Because you’re famous?” you asked, watching as he nodded. “Why should that matter?”

“Dating an idol isn’t easy. I’m sure you’re aware of the way people tend to react--they can be really cruel.”

“I’m well aware of that, but again, why should that matter?” Jisung was at a loss for words, unable to answer your question. “Tell me Jisung, would you treat me well? Would you be there to hold me when I feel like everything’s falling apart? Would you do everything you could to keep me safe and happy?”

“Yes, of course I would,” Jisung answered wholeheartedly.

“I will be there for you when being an idol becomes too stressful. I will be there for you to make sure you eat and rest properly. I will be there for you to make sure you are always happy and safe. That, Jisung, is the only thing that matters,” you finished your speech with a smile. Jisung returned your smile, releasing a breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding in.

“I feel so stupid,” he laughed. You looked at him in confusion.

“Why?”

“Because I was worried about nothing. You’re practically perfect,” he said, giggling when you became all flustered. “Let me take you out.”

“When?” You asked, excited to spend more time with him.

“Now,” Jisung answered immediately.

Well, he’s persistent, you thought.

“Okay,” You agreed, causing a bright smile to flash across his face. Whatever he had in mind for the night, you knew it would be one that you’d never forget. Jisung reached for your hand across the table, lacing your fingers with his.

“It’s a date.”

1K notes · View notes

shes-an-oddbird · 3 years

Text

Christmas at River’s End Mall

Summary - A Christmas AU in which everyone navigates their seasonal jobs, relationships and Christmas spirit, or lack there of, through woven together tales inspired by holiday prompts.

Chapter 8 - Letters to Santa

Summary - Daniel and Daisy discuss what they would ask for if they were to write letters to Santa.

Prompt - Letters to Santa Relationship - Daniel x Daisy (More Dousy!) POV - Daniel

Daniel was good with words and tactful answers. He could come up with kind replies that were reassuring but vague about what kids might get for Christmas. So who better to write replies from Santa?

Maybe the guy with an old typewriter that gives the letters from Santa an authentic look and feel?

But that was still him.

Daniel had quickly been promoted from Elf who didn’t have a clue what was going on, to Elf in charge of answering all of Santa’s mail. It’s not such a bad assignment, Daniel thinks, deciphering the scribbled requests for ponies and play stations. It certainly beats reading half-assed essays from his students. And the company wasn’t bad either. Although it was a solo gig most of the time, every slow moment she had, when the lines had dwindled and the chairs sat empty, Daisy would plop down in the seat next to him, ready to help with her laptop open and a software program that replicated the look of a typewriter.

While she knocked out two or three letters, she would tease him about his lack of Christmas knowledge. His library of holiday music had already received an overhaul. Daisy programmed the radio this time of year for the best mix of old and new and anytime he didn’t recognize one she would give him the title and artist and request a rating in return. He liked the jazzy ones best. And he still hummed along to the classics, but he would admit some of the remakes were good too.

Movies were still on hold.

Though not said in so many words it had been agreed they would watch the ever-growing list of Christmas flicks together. She warned him of her snack hogging and commentary but he assured her that was part of the reason he preferred to watch with others. The only problem was, she simply didn’t have the time.

It often seemed like just as quickly as she would sit down, Daisy would have to jump back up. She kept the kids in line to meet Santa happy, ran around fetching supplies for the craft tables, he had even watched anxiously as she eyed an altercation at a nearby clothing store but before she could react, mall security had arrived.

They’d gotten faster in the last few days.

“How are you holding up?” Daisy asks, not even bothering to sit this time, just leaning against the table he worked at.

Daniel shook his head in disbelief. “You haven’t sat down since you got here and you’re asking me?”

“My coffee is wearing off, if I sit I might not get back up again.” He understands, his students walked around in the same caffeine driven frenzy around finals. Daisy managed to look more put together but he could see the exhaustion in her eyes. “Seriously though, I’ve been on this job before, how many kids asked for cell phones?”

Its like she read his mind. “Fifteen just today and some of them were very specific, not to sound like an old man but I looked up this smart watch and it cost more than my first car.”

She grins back at him, “You’re not wrong, but you definitely sound like a ‘back in my day’ old man.”

“Daisy! We need help!”

Across the North Pole a group of teen volunteers were working on a banner for their parade float, the tallest of them is waving her over.

“I’m coming!” She calls back and quickly turns to him. “Coffee break in a little while?”

“Sure.”

As she goes, she crosses paths with Elena who is making her way towards the table. “The brilliant honor students over there spelled Christmas wrong and are arguing about how to fix it.”

“I’m on it.”

Daniel prepares the small pile of Santa’s Letters that had been written in Spanish and slides them over to her as she takes a seat.

“Does she ever slow down?” Daniel asks, nodding at Daisy’s retreating back.

Elena laughs clearly amused by the suggestion. “This time of year, no, and that’s saying something coming from me.”

“Why do you say this time of year?”

“Daisy already throws her whole self into whatever she’s doing, but in case you haven’t noticed she’s a little loco about Christmas.”

“No kidding.” Her knowledge of all things Christmas was extensive and he joked that she should teach a class on it. She didn't look like a typical Christmas crazy person, with a wardrobe of ugly Christmas sweaters and headbands with reindeer ears. Although she did dutifully wear the elf hat that distinguished the volunteers. She was the first to arrive and the the last to leave and always had a smile on her face when working with guests.

“She met May here,” Elena tells him, “when she was still just a kid at the orphanage and they bonded, I should probably let her tell you but that’s why she so invested in this event and in Christmas.”

That did explain her dedication.

***

Daisy places her coffee down on the table in between them and he is so distracted by the way she has pulled her sweater sleeves down over her hands that he almost misses her question.

“So what would be on your list for Santa?”

“What?”

“Your list?” She asks again, “If you wrote one today, what would be on it?”

He has to take a moment to think about it. He hadn’t asked Santa for anything since he was a little kid and his parents hadn’t asked him what he wanted in at least a decade. He tended to be very practical and, aside from purchasing books he didn’t have time to read, he didn’t have frivolous wants. There were always things to ask for of course but the number one thing would certainly bring down the mood. “Do you want the honest answer or the one that can go under the tree?”

Her smile softens. “Either.”

He laughs quietly. One of the jazzy Christmas songs he enjoys comes on over the radio and it hits him what he’d really like to do. “When I was a kid my parents taught me and my sisters how to dance, like really dance, my mom is an instructor and my dad learned how so he could impress her, used to be a lot of fun.”

Daisy looks back at him in surprise, “I wasn’t expecting that, but also I’m not completely shocked.” Her expression becomes curious, “can’t you? you seem to get around okay but I guess dancing is a little different?”

He shifts his leg, stretching it out under the table. “I haven’t since, I’m guessing I’m a bit clumsier than I used to be, might be tricky to find a partner.”

Daisy rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah, I'm sure it would be a real struggle being all handsome and funny and smart.”

“So what about you?” He asks quickly, to redirect their conversation off of him.

“Sorry?”

“What would you put on your list?” He clarifies.

“Oh,” she leans back in her chair, “I don’t know, everyone usually gives me Christmas ornaments, which I love but I don’t have to ask for them.”

“But from Santa? the magical being who can grant any request, be honest.” He encourages because he really wants to know, even if its not something that you can just stick a bow on.

“Honestly?" She paused and then lets out a little laugh. "I want, like eight more hours in my day.”

“Elena did say you’re always on the go this time of year.”

“I don’t want to miss a second of it.”

“No but are you really enjoying it?” He asks because as busy as she is he can't imagine she has time to actually time to relish in the time of year that means so much to her. She sighs heavily and he watches her shoulders sag slightly in uncertainty. She glances down at the coffee cup that’s probably empty by now.

“Do you still want to see the lights from the roof?” She asks suddenly.

“If you’re not busy.”

“I mean you’re right, the lights are my favorite part of Christmas and I haven’t even been up to see them, I'll just have to make the time, tonight?” He thinks maybe there is a way he can help with that. “Let’s get some refills and get back.”

They step up to the counter and Bobbi grabs the pot of coffee off the machine. “What do you want for Christmas?” Daisy asks and Bobbi rolls her eyes.

“That’s not how secret santa works.”

“No one said I got you.”

“Dais – “

“Seriously, we were just talking about Christmas lists, Bobbi, Elena, Jemma and I do a gift exchange every year.” Daisy explains.

“Unavoidable, we started the year I opened the coffee shop, it was that or everyone was getting coupons.”

“That reminds me, my friend, the one who can get you the part for your espresso machine, he’ll be here tomorrow for the parade, I asked him to come by if you’ve got the time?”

“You’re serious?” Bobbi lights up.

“His name’s Antoine Triplett, should be by around three.”

“Great, I’ll be here.”

***

Daniel spends the rest of the day trying to save Daisy as much time as possible. He finishes up the last of Santa’s letters and proceeds to help her with every mundane task assigned to her. Supply runs, glitter spills, crying kids, anything that can be considered more work than fun, he’s there to lighten the load.

He thinks it startles her a few times, when she goes to collect the broom and he’s already there with it in his hands.

At the end of the day they get everything cleaned up in record time. They’re just pulling on their coats and she’s explaining the back stairs they have to take up to the roof when Daisy’s best friend Jemma comes running up to them.

“Daisy, you’re here still here,” she chokes out, trying to catch her breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need your help, I took this huge order, I’m wrapping all of this woman’s Christmas gifts, there are at least a hundred of them.”

“That’s great!” But Jemma’s already shaking her head, still holding a stitch in her side.

“I might have accidently used a bit of paper with some writing on it to wrap one of the gifts.”

“Writing?” Daniel asks.

Jemma's blushes. “I use the scrap paper to write notes to Fitz and when I was cleaning up and I realized one of the notes was gone, I think I used it on one of the smaller gifts.”

“Okay, okay calm down, we can fix this, we’ll just unwrap the gifts and rewrap them.”

This doesn't calm her down. "She’s picking them up tomorrow after the parade, I’ve spent all day on them, she requested very specific papers and I have to be at the lab in less than an hour!”

Daniel watches as the gears turn in Daisy's mind, searching for a solution. She looks from the stairwell, to him and back to Jemma. “Okay, you go to your lab, I’ll get started unwrapping them, find the damn note and just come back when you done and help me finish rewrapping them.”

Jemma looks near tears. She throws her arms around Daisy in a tight hug before backing away. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, look for all the gifts under the name Samuels”

Daisy turns back to him. “I’m sorry, I guess this postpones our plans again.”

“Its okay, do you want some help?”

“You don’t have to.”

“We’ll get it done in half the time with two of us, just until Jemma gets back and she can take over.”

“Alright, um, the parade, its in the morning, were you going to come watch?”

“I was probably just going to watch it on the TV but I can make a change of plans.”

“Its not the same as the lights, but we can watch it from the roof, you can see it go on for miles.”

“Sounds great.”

#dousy #sousy #Daniel Sousa #Daisy Johnson #daisy x sousa #aos #aos fic #christmas at river's end mall #25 days of christmas

8 notes · View notes

ongfreestyle · 5 years

Text

Coffee and College

A Jaehyun college coffee bullet au that ZERO people asked for

So anyway, you're in your second year of college and you're in the groove of things (kinda) and all is well

You're on your way to your 9am French I class on the first day and you feel your phone vibrating

It's your bf and you smile thinking "aaww it's our 3yr anniversary n he's calling already to say good morning"

More like... goodbye

Yep. 8:45am he calls you to dump you in the driest most uncool way

"listen. I just ... I know this is random, but....I don't wanna do this anymore."

"oh. Uh. What? Sorry I didn't hear you?"

"I'm sorry, I just can't do this anymore I want to break up with you. I'm sorry."

"oh. Ok. Fine. Sure. Umm...if you wanna talk about it later. Then...yeah..I have French class now bye."

End of call and start of class

Yep you're third row from the back and you plan to pay attention to the syllabus talk and following lesson but

You're definitely tearing up

Like literally WHO DOES THAT?? Just dumps you at 8am no explanation??

So anyways there are teardrops on your notes now and ink isn't tear proof so...rip

Anyways thirty minutes in and your head in kinda just down and you're kinda just crying quietly

And then this kid slides into the seat next to you

He's v late

And v cute even through the tears

And he's smiling really big even though the teacher just scolded him

He sets his coffee down and looks at you wiping snot and tears away and he hands you a napkin from his bag

You take it and mutter a "thanks"

And a moment later he slides his coffee to you too

"I didn't drink it yet"

"it's an espresso, extra caffeine"

"I made it myself"

And he's back to taking notes

And you're still kinda pouting, but it's been 45+ mins so you try to at least write down the homework assignment

And you decide to sip the stupid espresso it's actually pretty good

The next day you find yourself at the school cafeteria and guess who it is??

Espresso boy!!

And it turns out that he's even cuter in uniform!

You go to order some food and he greets you with a big smile

"feeling better today?"

"kinda"

"rough day yesterday, huh?"

"yeah. Can I have a breakfast burrito?"

"no coffee?"

"no, but thanks for the free coffee yesterday. It helped. I owe you one"

"no you don't, it's on the house. And so the one I'm about to make you next. It's today's special!"

Who are you to deny another free coffee? So you take his offer and a few minutes later you're at your table eating your breakfast and doing your French homework

And the special coffee is really good

Then one of your friends comes by and is giving you a weird look

"are you drinking the nasty coffee from the cafeteria??"

"yep. Its actually really good"

And your friend's like ??? "It's usually bitter and gross tho ?? Like 10 times outta 10"

And you shrug and get back to work and your friend grabs some food and starts doing their work too

The day goes on and finally you get some time to yourself to think about yesterday

Your ex hasn't called or texted. Nothing. And it just hits you like wow. I'm. Single.

Cool.

Except not cool because you got no closure or explanation and ouch.

So you hate it but just like yesterday, you're crying again. Just. Uglier crying.

And your roommate comes back and is like "awww sweetie, fuck him"

And she says if you wipe your face she'll take you out for ice cream

So fuck the snot and tears, you want some damn ice cream

And out you go!!

Free ice cream you two stop at a park on campus and there's a basket game going on

And your roommate is like SKSSKDJS "LOOK IT'S JOHNNY SKSJDJ"

English??

"that means holy shit it's the hottest tallest nicest guy in school and he's playing basketball look at his ARMS BITCH"

So guess who's watching a pickup game of bball while eating ice cream?

You two!

Oh and guess who else is playing and is red and sweaty and had a nice jump shot?

Coffee boy.

Yup and you might not be interested in the Score, but dammit the view was nice

The game ends and Johnny is the first to come over to the side lines n greet your roommate

She's batting her eyelashes and telling him he did amazing even tho they lost

And he's smiling and chugging water as he goes on talking and coffee boy and a few of his friends are on the sidelines now looking at you

Coffee Boy is the first to say hi and all you can do is say hi back

And thank him for the coffee again

He shrugs, "no problem. Coffee fixes almost everything in college"

Almost everything. And there's an awkward silence

"see you around." He says and he walks away

Like that you never find out his name and life moves on

French class is going well and you sit in the front now and coffee boy is always late and sits in the back

You really don't do anything except exchange glances

Then midterms are coming up and you are a bit panicked bc u definitely neglected French studies

So like any good college student you cram like hell

In the library at midnight you're trying to learn vocabulary, conjugations, grammar points

You look insane by 1am bit you can't stop then you hear someone coming I'm the library

It's (literally if you can guess by now) coffee boy

And he's got 4 coffee cups in a holder with him and a huge backpack

He spots you and waves

"mind if I sit with you?"

"mind if I claim two of the coffees?"

"there all yours" and he sits next to you and slides the holder to you just like when you first met

"I made them myself"

"so you make these awesome brews?"

"yeah the schools coffee recipe is shitty."

"well maybe you should major in business and open a coffee shop. They're really good."

"maybe I will"

And you two study quietly and you peek over to see him going over French vocab

"let's quiz each other?"

"sure"

And it's 2am and you guys realize you're both fukced

Like. No vocab is sticking and the coffee had you two literally SHAKING

And by 3am you guys are just cracking up

"I never learned your name coffee boy"

"Jaehyun. Jung Jaehyun."

"well. Good luck with the test tomorrow because I. Give. Up."

And you get up to leave and he offers to walk you home and you accept for safety reasons

"I'm glad to see you so happy. You're pretty like that."

"I'm an ugly crier, huh"

"kinda."

"okay, not the gentleman answer, but I admire your honesty"

"thanks. I hope you have a good night"

Yeah the walk back was not long at all. Too bad because you really were enjoying your time

But 9am French !!!

Midterms are over after a week and it's back to the daily grind

But days are way better when you have French now bc Jaehyun sits next to you (when he's on time and the seats open) and you guys joke around alot during speaking practice

He's brings you a new coffee everyday and asks you how it tastes and what he should add or take away

And you kinda hang out at the cafeteria now so you can talk to him while he's working

Ooppsss you have developed a small™ crush on Jaehyun and it's not going away anytime soon

You even open up to him about why you crying the day you met (tho u vowed to NVR speak of it again)

Yeah now the crush is nvr dying :)))

Bc your friends notice that you always go watch him play b-ball even tho it's not a REAL game

And he always has a coffee for you

And you two are always studying French

But like...you guys are making questionable grades...so...what's up??

NOTHING

French I finals are coming and you and Jaehyun are at your usual spot in the library, except this time YOU bought HIM coffee

"what brand ?"

"gross school brand that you didn't make, but is LOADED with caffeine"

"gross. Hand me one"

"cheers!"

And it's study time

But he's not focused

Like he never is and neither are you, but it's really off now

"is it that bad?"

"the coffee? Yeah. And my French grade? It's even worse. I won't make French 2."

And you're like WTF WTF NO FRENCH 2 WITH JAEHYUN YOUR CRUSH WHO LITERALLY GOT YOU THRU THIS SEMESTER ????

"Jaehyun. We are going to fix your grade with this final. I SWEAR."

You're like REAL STUDY MODE: ON

And he has this small smile on his face.

Sly....

"what?"

"you WANT me in your French 2 class don't you?"

"uuhhh-duhh free coffee to keep me up during le snooze fest"

"you know it's not free. It comes outta my pay check"

"okay, then I owe it to you to get you to pass this class and get to French 2"

"I guess."

Yeah. You're DRILLING info into ur heads ,,,, but Jaehyun is like ____ blank.

So you kinda snap

"yo do u wanna fail??? At least TRY!"

"I can't focus. I'm confused about something."

"past tense conjugations?"

"you."

Pause.

"I can't tell if you're over your ex. You took it hard and I'm trying to wait, but..."

???????????

"my ex? My ex is my ex...I'm over that"

"you never really brought it up much. I wouldn't know."

"Past tense."

"and also. The coffee."

"your coffee is good! I'm serious, Jaehyun!"

"yeah, but do like me...? Or my coffee?"

"both?"

Jaehyun is not making this easy for you okay

"I mean, if I didn't bring you coffee, would you still hang with me? Teach me French n stuff?"

"of course."

"so you...........like......me?"

HELL YES, but you settle for a simple yep

Then he just looks at you seriously

"you LIKE me LIKE me..like....LIKE LIKE?"

"uuhh...if I understood all of the likes right, then....yeah. I do like you."

OH AND THAT DOES IT

He is so reeeeeedddd

Like this boy GONE

You. His crush. Likes. Him. Wtf

Yeah he cannot quit grinning

And when you move on from the topic he can't focus on a single word you're saying

Finals day comes and you feel okay about your score and Jaehyun said he wants to leave it in the past

And you two go hang out at the cafeteria

And he's looking at you across the table

Randomly he just smiles at you

"I..wanna be your boyfriend...."

bc y'all nvr because s/o's officially soooo

Your heart rate

Lemme draw it

/\/\/\/\_______💀

Wow

He said it so cutely

Damn that's crazy bc you would love if he was your bf

And when you say that!!

Reference to drawing

After becoming official you two are like the cutest couple ever

And you go to French 2 and he's back in French 1

He got a 58 on the final :/

But OH WELL you're his tutor now

And you guys actually study

And he doesn't feel like he has to bribe you with coffee to make you like him

So with some hard work you both kick your caffeine addictions

And you guys spend the days making stupid jokes and playing basketball together

Cramming for French while high on 4 coffees each

(old habits die hard)

And you two tease each other so much

It's a miracle you get any work done really

Jaehyun passes his French 1 class with an A+ and he literally runs to your dorm to tell you

You crash into each other

He holds you to steady you

And hes like "babe I passed"

"that's great!"

"it's all thanks to you I could kiss you, but I have coffee breath and-"

"that's nothing new"

Okay and cue the totally cheesy kiss

Where Jaehyun's like "you're right, but our first kiss should be special"

Valentine Boy is a ROMANTIC okay

But it doesn't matter

You can't resist leaning in

And he lets out a fake groan like he hasn't been dying to kiss you since he first saw u snotting all over your notes

Yep he liked you then.

And the lean in was so slow, but when your lips met it was worth it

And the coffee taste.... wasn't so bad anyway

#nct #jaehyun #jaehyun scenario #nct scenario #its 3am #wowo #no proof resd #yikes

43 notes · View notes

wildefiction · 5 years

Text

Of Course...Mr. Collins

TWENTY-THREE

The rest of the week passed quickly as you finalized plans for the southern California convention taking place the first weekend of December. When you'd asked what would happen once the convention circuit finished for the year, Misha had reminded you that he was in the middle of filming season thirteen, and that it was likely the two of you would be spending a substantial part of the next several months in Vancouver. Although since he lived so close he often came home on the weekends, so he assured you would have some down time. Not that you minded, spending a bunch of time with your prohibitively sexy boss who you also happened to be sleeping with? It was a no-brainer.

Thursday morning dawned chilly, a cold wind and drizzling rain pelted the worn shingles of your roof. Drawing the Venetian blinds open filled the living room with a grey light and you smiled as your cats appointed themselves door guardians, keeping a wary eye on the crows who enjoyed taunting them from the deck.

Padding into the kitchen you set to work gathering the materials to make cheesecake. It was your favorite dessert, and you saved the lengthy process for the holidays. Reaching up to the top shelf of your cupboards required a step stool, as even on tiptoes the mixing bowls eluded you. Whoever had designed the kitchen failed to realize that putting cupboards above the dishwasher made them out of reach for all but the tallest people.

Straining for the stack of glass bowls occupied your attention. Just as you got a good grip on the lip of one your phone rang. Looking around you in search of the source quickly revealed that you'd left the device on the couch. By the sounds of the muffled tone, it had slid between the cushions. Setting the bowls on the counter you ran into the adjacent room, just catching the call before it went to voicemail.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Mr. Collins.” Groaning, Misha sighed on the other end of the call. “You're lucky I need you Ms. [Y/L/N], otherwise you'd be in serious need of an attitude adjustment.”

The gravelly admonishment made you flush, a crimson heat pooling through your belly. Clearing his throat, your boss quickly changed the subject.

“So, ahh, I hate to do this but..do you think you could come help us in the kitchen? I may have bitten off more than I could chew with this menu.”

You were about to tell him you'd be happy to, but he continued, hastily adding that you could bring your sister if you wanted to and that he'd give you a bonus if you'd save his ass. Laughing through the line, you agreed - on the condition that you could bring dessert. “Thanks [Y/F/N], you really are a lifesaver.”

You weren't about to turn down more time with Misha, the salary boost was just an added bonus. He need never know that you had planned on spending the day stuffing your face with cheesecake; deciding to forego the big spread when you realized you'd be spending the holiday alone had saved you a lot of time and money.

Gathering all of the ingredients into a grocery tote along with several mixing bowls, your biggest springform pan and the fresh fruit used for garnish, you moved into your room to change. The bright blue fleece pajama pants littered with sheep that you currently wore didn't exactly feel right.

Not wanting to overdo things, you decided on a pair of soft, plum colored leggings and a form-fitting black tunic top, the hem falling just a few inches past the curve of your thighs. Pulling knee-high, oatmeal colored wool socks on before lacing up your pair of soft leather boots completed the outfit. Spreading a thick layer of dark eyeliner on to accompany the purple and black smokey-eye was just enough to tie everything together, your [Y/E/C] irises framed by the heavier makeup.

Pulling a brush through your long [Y/H/C] hair was enough, you knew if you were cooking that a fancier hairstyle wouldn't last long anyhow.

The highway held few cars, making the drive pass quickly. Pulling into Misha’s neighborhood, you were surprised by the number of cars parked both in his driveway and lining the street. Knocking on the heavy front door left you standing on the porch for a few minutes. After several tries, you squeezed the handle, and finding it unlocked, let yourself in.

The maelstrom that greeted you was intense. West chased Tom and Shep through the house while JJ sat on the plush rug of the living room and stacked blocks with Maison. Gen and Daneel reclined together on the overstuffed sofa, glasses of red wine clutched in their hands, chatting as they kept a watchful eye on the girls. Rather than being overwhelmed, you felt like part of the family, a smile passing over your face as you took in your surroundings and made your way to the kitchen.

Vicki stood behind the cool marble covered island that dominated the center of the room. The sharp knife in her hand sliced through vegetables with ease. Seeing you walk in, she lowered the blade, and, wiping her hands on the half apron tied around her waist; enveloped you in a bone crushing hug.

“[Y/F/N]! Thank you so much for coming to help with dinner...you know how Misha can be.” Thinking back to the first night you’d met the Collins’, you rolled your eyes and laughed. “So, what scheme has he thought of this time?”

Lifting your bags up onto the counter, your [Y/E/C] eyes widened in shock at the thick piece of cardstock Vicki handed across her work station.

“He..he actually made a menu?” “Where is our host anyhow?” Vicki snorted under her breath in mild amusement, motioning vaguely over her shoulder with the knife she’d taken up to finish her task.

Turning your attention to the set of double french doors behind her, you wandered across the cool wooden floor and looked through the glass. Misha, Jared and Jensen were all huddled around a large grill, where two twenty-pound turkeys were trussed and stuffed with herbs; slowly turning over the open flame. Jared noticed you first as you leaned against the oak door frame, impressed at their dedication.

“Why am I not surprised that you are actually roasting turkeys over an open fire?” Jensen held up his hands and backed away from the heat, shaking his head while he tilted an amber bottle to his lips.

“Not me, Jared and I are giving him shit. There’s no way Misha can do this and have them finish before next year. We’re taking bets on how long it’ll take until we get to eat.”

“Supervising, you might say..” Jared quipped as he moved to wrap his arms around you in greeting.

Misha’s attention finally rose from the spit and his eyes met [Y/F/N], a slow smile twisting over his face at the woman standing in his doorway. She looked amazing; a glass of wine in her hand as she smiled back at him, an amused expression on her face.

“Well boys, have fun out here in the cold. I’m going back inside to surround myself with beautiful women...and cheesecake.” A torrent of wind off of the bay swirled around you as you stepped back into the warmth of the house.

There was a great deal of work to be done for the two desserts you had promised. Melting white chocolate over a double boiler while simultaneously reducing fresh raspberries into a puree forced you to abandon the glass of merlot Vicki had poured you. With those tasks complete you began assembling the base recipe for the cheesecakes themselves, the onyx monster of a stand mixer working overtime to whip the ingredients together. Crossing the kitchen to pour freshly ground coffee beans into the espresso machine for the tiramisu cheesecake took only a moment, the compelling smell warming you from the inside out.

Two hours later, you pulled the hot desserts from the double ovens set into the wall. Lowering the cakes to cooling racks well out of reach of small hands, you sighed; content. The smell of roasting turkey wafted through the open door when you poked your head outside to check how things were going. Rosemary, thyme and orange married together beautifully, a hint of sage rounding out the bouquet. The smug look on Misha’s face at his success caught your eye, his piercing blue eyes lit with satisfaction, that damning smile of his adding to the heat that burned through you.

Setting the expansive table distracted you well enough. A smaller, square oak table had been set aside just for the kids and you found your mind wandering to how it would feel to have your own child joining the others as they clambered up into their chairs. Shaking your head, you huffed at the thought. You didn’t like children. Mentally berating the biological clock that occasionally screamed at you to procreate, you shoved the idea away from your conscience. You could barely take care of yourself, adding a two-legged little gremlin to the mix wasn’t even a somewhat good idea. Pouring yourself a second glass of wine, you settled into one of the twelve heavy chairs that flocked the stretch of dark wood quickly filling with a myriad of dishes.

Dinner played out as if it were the scene in a hallmark movie. The food was delicious, Misha spending twenty minutes carving up both turkeys before setting large, oval platters of meat at each end of the table. Tureens filled with mashed potatoes, both sweet and gold sat nestled amongst casseroles of stuffing, whole cranberries lending their beautiful color to the tablescape. Massive biscuits rested in napkin lined baskets; an old recipe handed down to Gen from her grandparents. Misha’s homemade wine flowing freely while the kids enjoyed fresh squeezed lemonade, West excitedly telling anyone who would listen that he’d help make it.

“[Y/F/N], where’s your sister? Did she not want to join us?” Jared’s hazel eyes were warm as they turned to you, his fingers laced with Gen’s.

“She’s decided to stay in Hawaii for another week, actually.” Vicki’s eyes widened as she realized that you’d planned to be home alone today and she grimaced.

“If Misha hadn’t called you to help, what exactly would you be doing right now?” Shrugging, you swallowed another drink of the fruity liquid in your glass before answering.

“Probably stuffing myself full of cheesecake and watching movies in my pajamas.”

“What?! There are at least three food groups in cheesecake, it’s a nice, balanced meal.”

“I’m not complaining though, this turkey is a-maaaazing Misha.”

After hours spent shopping, prepping and cooking the veritable feast laid out before you, everyone was overfull within thirty minutes. Jared and Jensen herded the children upstairs to change into pajamas and get cleaned up while Daneel, Gen and Vicki cleared the table. Back in the kitchen you pulled the fresh raspberry puree and heavy whipping cream from the refrigerator, spreading the fruit topping evenly across the surface of one of the cheesecakes. White chocolate curls and whole berries decorated the outer ring and sides of the confection.

Adding the heavy cream to a stainless steel charger produced beautifully fresh cream for the tiramisu cake and, carrying them out to the table gleaned the interest of everyone in the house. A concerned look fell over Jensen’s face as he warred with the idea of whether or not he could fit additional food in his stomach. Laughing, you assured him there was plenty and that he could eat it later. With a curt nod of his head, he and Jared followed Misha back outside and you turned questioning glances to the women sitting around you.

“It’s become a bit of a tradition when we’re all together to light up the fire pit and disconnect for awhile. C’mon [Y/F/N], you’ll see what we mean.” Vicki’s fingers stretched out to envelope your own as she moved to lift several large blankets from a basket by the door. Tilting her head in invitation, you followed her and the others outside where the boys already sat, the small children clambering up into their father’s laps. As you moved to sit in one of the adirondack chairs huddled near the iron pit of dancing flames, Vicki glared at you.

“Don’t even think about running off by yourself, you come sit with us. You’re family now, whether you like it or not.”

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

TAGS: @jamielea81 @wings-of-a-raven

#WildeFiction #Misha x Reader #Supernatural Fanfiction #SPN x RPF

1 note · View note

antiloquist · 6 years

Text

Caffeinated Hearts

Hello, I’m back again with more self indulgent garbage!

Ignis Scientia/Reader, SFW, 5521 words. Reader’s gender is not specified and no pronouns are used for them.

When the little coffee shop you work at starts serving Ebony products, you start bringing in more customers, including a tall, exceptionally polite man who grabs your attention from the start.

Little do you know, he’s interested too.

Tagging my fellow Ignis lovers: @singergurl91 @hypaalicious @strikecommandher @thirdstreetcettin @misssarahdoll @themissimmortal @tehrevving @roses-and-oceans

Read on AO3 here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12922065

When your coffee shop, a little cozy place nestled in the heart of downtown Insomnia, started serving Ebony products, you expected it would bring in some new clientele. What you weren’t expecting, however, was for one of them to catch your eye.

He was tall and crisply dressed, with piercing green eyes and a stern resting expression that could probably melt stone. He’d caught your attention from the first time he’d walked in there, early on a Monday morning at the tail end of a rush. At first, you’d expected him to be just like many of the Citadel customers you waited on, impatient and condescending, but he took you by surprise.

He’d waited quietly in line for his turn, and when he’d gotten to the front, he’d greeted you with a polite smile that made his eyes light up. You’d been so shocked, actually, that it took you a solid few seconds to realize that you were supposed to answer the greeting he then offered. His voice was smooth, with a lovely accent you couldn’t quite place. If he noticed your little social slip-up, he never said anything. He simply ordered an Ebony and paid in cash. The name he gave was ‘Ignis’.

After he received his order, he swept out of the coffee shop as gracefully as he had entered. You couldn’t get his intense eyes or velvety voice out of your head for the rest of the day. Who was he? He carried himself with the air of someone important; it wouldn’t be out of the question if he were, considering you were located a mere block from the entrance to the Citadel.

You wondered if he would come back, bordering on hoping. Maybe it was strange, but… you wanted to know more about him.

And come back he did, around the same time every weekday. On the third day, you summoned the courage to strike up some small talk with him, leaving the cash register to you coworker as you moved to make his drink yourself. He did indeed work at the Citadel, though he wouldn’t specify where. He seemed more interested in hearing about you, honestly. You were surprised; most people took their coffee and left without a care as to who made it for them.

Before long, it had become a routine. Whenever Ignis came in in the morning, your coworkers somehow knew without saying to man the register after you took his drink order, leaving you to make it yourself while conversing with him. He was always polite, made for good conversation, and was utterly charming without even meaning to. After the second week of this, you couldn’t deny that maybe you had a bit of a crush on the mysterious Ignis.

A crush was all it was going to be, however. You knew you never had a chance with someone like him. He was elegant, graceful, like something out of a movie. Meanwhile, you were just some awkward barista, desperately searching for a purpose in life. There was no way he’d go for it, not to mention the world or trouble you’d be in if he complained. Just because he was nice didn’t mean he was interested.

The weeks passed, and you slowly learned more about Ignis. He was apparently a decent chef, for one thing. You had noticed him scribbling something down in a little notebook after ordering one of your to-go sandwiches; when you asked, he replied that it was his list of recipes, and that he found inspiration just about everywhere he went. You had had to practically bite your tongue to stop yourself from telling him that you definitely wouldn’t mind sampling something he made sometime.

In turn, he surprised you by remembering little details about you that you had told him here and there that you had fully expected him to forget. In contrast to so many other customers you saw on a daily basis, he seemed to remember that you were a person with your own thoughts, feelings, and experiences.

Of course, other people noticed you noticing him. Mainly, it was your best friend there at the coffee shop, who had apparently made it her grand mission in life to see you and the mysterious Ignis together. She never had any shortage of advice for you whenever the two of you were on shift together.

“Just casually drop the fact that you’re single,” she said, turning to you as she cleaned the espresso machine in the middle of a lull. It was a Thursday morning, not long before it would be ‘time’ for Ignis to come in.

“How about I don’t do that?” you shot back.

Your friend rolled her eyes. “Live a little. Ask him if he’s seeing anyone!”

“Yeah, because that isn’t suspicious at all.” You could see it now; a one way ticket to being fired, or at the very least written up for harassing a customer.

“You’ll never know until you try.” She elbowed you in the side, shooting you a cheeky grin.

You shrugged. “Guess I’ll never know.” The bell on top of the door rang and you glanced up to see… Ignis. What uncanny timing, you thought.

Before you could greet him, however, you were interrupted by your manager, who told you to grab some cups and lids from the back. When you’d asked if she’d meant now, she insisted now. Oh well.

“Don’t worry, I got this,” your friend said, shooting you a wink that left you feeling less sure than you had before.

Of course, the damned things were in the top cabinet. You didn’t know whose idea it was to create cabinets so tall even the tallest people in the store had trouble reaching, but you were definitely inclined to disagree with their design choices.

It took you far too long to locate something sturdy enough to boost you up to the top shelf of the cabinet; as if that wasn’t terrible enough, you nearly lost your balance coming down. A hard fought battle, but you emerged victorious nonetheless. Hopefully you didn’t take so long that you missed Ignis.

Unfortunately, it seemed the Astrals were working against you, as you arrived back into the main area of the coffee shop just in time to see Ignis disappear out the front door. You had half a mind to call after him before you remembered that you were at work on the clock.

A giggle to your left caused you to turn your attention to your friend.

“Disappointed?” she teased.

“Shut it,” you said, shoving the box of cups and lids at her while you took over the cash register. She took the box, smile not leaving her face the entire time. The morning rush had yet to rear its ugly head, and you weren’t looking forward to when it did.

The devious grin on your friend’s face persevered between customers, and it was nearing lunch time when your resolve finally broke and you asked her what the hell she was so happy about.

“Nothing…” she replied. “Except for the fact that I totally helped you out with Mr. Tall, Refined and Handsome.”

Your stomach dropped. “... What did you do?” Part of you didn’t even want to know the answer, but you knew if you didn’t push the question, your friend would never fess up.

“So, I may have - don’t kill me, okay? - I may or may not have written your name and phone number on his cup before giving it to him.”

You glanced around you to make sure no customers were in earshot. “You did what?” You pressed a hand to your temples. “I’m dead. There’s no way around it. I’m just dead.” You weren’t even angry at her; you’d skipped mad and gone to mortified.

“Aww, don’t be like that,” your friend said, frown finally winning out against that damned smile. “To be honest, I don’t know if he even noticed. And if he’s mad, I’ll take the heat. I’m just sick of you staring at him like a lovesick puppy every time he comes in here.”

For a moment, all you could do was gape at her. “I-I do not-”

Your friend raised an eyebrow at you. “Hmm?”

“Yeah, I guess I kinda do…” you said, heat rising to your cheeks. “I mean, can you blame me?”

“Honestly? No. If I wasn’t already seeing someone…”

You pouted at her. “Hey, I saw him first.”

She winked. “Just kidding.”

The rest of the day was filled with clandestine peeks to your phone, waiting for a text, a call, anything. It was stupid, and you knew it was stupid, but you couldn’t help but… hope? You sighed; he probably never even saw it, or maybe he saw it and assumed it was your friend making a pass at him instead. For all you knew, it could have been something that happened to him twice a week from different people and he was sick of it.

Your thoughts were still swirling around in your head when you clocked off for the day and headed home. Around 6:30, you had finally gotten home and relaxed… and then your phone rang. You nearly tripped over the coffee table leaping across the room to get it from its perch charging next to the sofa.

The number wasn’t one you recognized, but the area code was downtown Insomnia. Could it be?... You took a deep breath and picked up the phone. Worst case scenario, it was a telemarketer or a robocall and you just hung up, but best case scenario…

You brought the phone up to your ear. “Hello?” you asked, trying to sound steady.

“Ah, hello.” The voice on the other end was unmistakable. “Am I correct in assuming this is the right number?”

“Ignis?” you could only ask, dumbfounded.

A light chuckle; even distorted through the phone it sounded lovely. “The one and only.”

“It’s uh... “ You weren’t sure if he would remember you. You all had nametags at the coffee shop, and he made it a point to refer to you all by name, but chances were you were a pretty insignificant part of his day. “I’m from the coffee shop down near the Citadel?” you offered.

“Yes, but of course. Your friend was quite insistent I call you.”

You groaned. “Oh, by the Six… I am so sorry about her. She’s got this weird notion in her head that putting friend’s numbers on customer’s cups is okay for some reason?”

A moment of silence. “I do hope I’m not bothering you,” he said, a hint of hesitation evident in his voice.

“No!” you exclaimed, perhaps a bit too quickly. “I’m… I’m glad you called. When she told me what she’d done I thought I was toast for sure.”

“Why so?”

You paused for a moment, unsure if you should say what was on your mind. “It’s just… I dunno, I figured it was kinda weird and that you might have complained. I didn’t ask her to do that, I swear. I-I mean, I definitely like talking to you, but I wasn’t gonna just up and… yeah.” You lost your momentum and sat, waiting for some kind of response.

“Your friend said something along the lines of you not being able to work up the courage yourself?” There was a bit of a teasing lilt to his voice, and you dared to hope through the wave of frustration at your friend; had she really told him that?

“She’s… not wrong,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “I-I’m sorry…”

Another soft chuckle; you desperately hoped he wasn’t laughing at you. “There’s nothing to apologize for. The reason I called was…” He cleared his throat. “I was wondering if perhaps I could take you to dinner sometime?”

It took a moment for his words to sink in. Was this a joke? A prank?

“I-I’d love to! Uh… I have Saturday off?”

“Saturday it is. I’m always quite busy, but I’m sure I’ll be allotted time for this.”

You raised an eyebrow, though he knew you couldn’t see it. What did that mean? What kind of crazy job did he have that had him working weekends even with the government? The weekends were when your shop was dead, because the Citadel was closed and all the employees were home.

“Sounds good. Uh, where are we going?”

A moment of silence; perhaps Ignis was thinking. “There’s a nice place a few blocks from your work. I’ll pick you up at 7?”

This was happening. It was actually, really happening; you were going on a date with the cute guy that plagued your idle thoughts. “Y-yeah! That works.” You rattled off your address to him so he knew where to go. “Um… I’ll see you then if I don’t see you at work?”

“Indeed.” There was a clatter on the other line, and another voice shouting. “Ah, I’m afraid I must be going. Be seeing you.”

“L-later,” you said eloquently.

The line clicked and you didn’t know if you wanted to flop onto your couch and squeal or call your best friend and tell her everything. Forget being mad; you wanted to proclaim your undying devotion for her for what she had done.

… She wasn’t ever going to let you hear the end of it, though.

You did indeed see Ignis again before Saturday. He was casual as ever, and honestly you preferred it that way. He didn’t seem like the type for spontaneous PDA, so you weren’t surprised in the slightest. And if he caught you elbowing your friend when she gave you a silly expression in the middle of his order, he didn’t say anything about it.

When Saturday finally came, you must have spent at least an hour agonizing over what to wear. Would dressing fancy make him think that you’re desperate? Would dressing casual come off as you not caring? In the end, you settled for something down the middle; fancy enough for a nice restaurant but casual enough that it didn’t look like you were going to a Citadel ball.

With the minutes ticking down to 7, you paced outside your front door. This was it, this was actually happening. Unless, of course, he decided to cancel or stood you up or something. You shook your head of the negative thoughts; he’d given no indication that he was the sort of person to do those sorts of things to someone, and you were damned if you were going to let your anxiety ruin a nice night out.

At approximately 7:01 PM, someone knocked on your door. You mentally steeled yourself for this, not even bothering to check the peephole before throwing open your door.

There Ignis stood in all of his casually elegant glory; it seemed he too had decided to go for somewhere down the middle line for attire tonight, and you were relieved that you two seemed to be on the same page. At the very least, you both looked okay enough for a decently fancy restaurant, you thought. A pinstriped button-up shirt adorned his lithe frame, paired with a nice pair of slacks and a light jacket. It was frustrating just how nice he looked standing in your doorway.

“Apologies for my tardiness,” he said crisply, checking the time on his phone. “I had prior matters to attend to.”

You blinked. “U-uh, you’re fine, really!” you said eloquently. “I wouldn’t call being a minute late anything to be sorry for.”

Ignis smiled softy. “Still, I said 7 and I am generally a man of my word. Do forgive me.”

“Okay, I guess I can let it go,” you teased, smiling when your jab get a genuine chuckle out of him. “Did you want to come in?”

“No, that’s quite alright. I’ve made reservations for us, and I don’t want to be late twice in the same night.” Though his words were serious, his tone of voice was light.

You grinned. “Perish the thought.”

Ignis offered you his arm as you closed and locked your apartment door behind you. “Shall we, then?” On anyone else, the gesture probably would have come off as silly or facetious, but Ignis had a sort of old-world charm about him that made it work.

“Let’s,” you said, taking his elbow and letting him show you where to go.

The walk was peaceful, the setting sun providing a warm atmosphere. Surprisingly, you found it just as easy to keep up conversation with Ignis as you did when you saw him at work.

“I hope your day off has treated you well?” he asked while the two of you waited for a walk signal to cross a busy intersection.

You nodded. “Yeah, good to not be up at the crack of dawn. Fridays are the worst, because everyone wants their coffee and for the day to be be over.”

“Endless coffee orders? I hope they haven’t bean a downer on your spirits.” You blinked at him for a second. Had he… just made a coffee pun? It caught you off-guard and all you could do was sputter out a laugh in response.

“That was terrible,” you said, though your grin betrayed how you really felt. Intelligent, gorgeous, and a sense of humor? Goodness, this man wasn’t real.

Any potential response from Ignis was cut short by his announcement that you’d arrived at your destination. You had to take a moment to not boggle at the place he’d brought you to. Of course, you’d seen it on your travels through downtown, but it had always seemed way too expensive for your budget. Were you underdressed? You subtly craned your head around to look at the other patrons through the restaurant’s glass windows; they were dressed a touch above what you generally wore on a day to day basis, but it looked like this place wasn’t Citadel Ballroom attire-worthy. Thank the Six for that, you thought.

Your grip on his arm subtly tightened as you entered the establishment, and Ignis answered the gesture with a gentle pat to your arm with his free hand.

The host greeted him with the sort of familiarity a semi-regular customer garnered; warmth, but not overt friendliness, especially not at a posh place like this.

“A reservation for two at 7:15,” Ignis said. “It should be under ‘Scientia’.”

You frowned. Scientia, Scientia… you’d heard that name somewhere. But where?

The host tapped at his register and brought you back from your thoughts by confirmed that there was indeed a reservation under that name. “Right this way, Mr. Scientia,” he said to Ignis, barely giving you more than a cursory glance before turning and leading you two into the restaurant with two menus in hand.

At least you didn’t feel horribly out of place… yet.

You took your seats and the host left you alone for the time being. Before the waiter came and took your order, you took the opportunity to look around. The decor was upscale, but not obnoxiously so. It was refined without being snooty… exactly you how you thought of Ignis. A glance up to the man seated at the other end of the relatively small table reminded you that yes, this was actually happening. You blushed and looked down at your menu, hoping to find something to suit your palate that wouldn’t bankrupt your date.

“You’re quiet,” Ignis remarked. It wasn’t a criticism, but rather an observation.

You fidgeted. “Guess I’m still a little nervous. This is a nice place. And also, I was wondering…”

“Ah,” was the response you got. Perhaps he was waiting for this.

“Your name… it sounds familiar? I dunno why, though.”

Ignis thought for a moment. “Perhaps you’ve seen it in a news article somewhere. I do occasionally get mentioned, being the crown prince’s Chamberlain-to-be, after all.”

You snapped your head up and looked at him, searching his face for any sign of a joke. “Wait, seriously?” you asked when he realized he wasn’t being facetious.

Ignis chuckled. “As serious as a heart attack, my dear.” He frowned slightly. “... perhaps I should have mentioned it beforehand.”

“N-no, it’s okay,” you said. “You probably didn’t want it known because…” You paused for a moment, trying to word your thoughts in a correct and coherent manner. “People pretend to like you to get things, don’t they?”

The slight widening of Ignis’s eyes told you you were right on the money. “Perhaps that has... happened in the past…” he murmured. You had a feeling he didn’t really want to talk about it.

“Well, that’s not fair to you at all!” you said. You then took a deep breath before your next statement. “I… I liked you even when you were just a regular customer.”

Ignis raised an eyebrow at you but said nothing. His silence prompted you to continue onwards.

“Y-you’re always super nice to all of us. Some people… they pretend we’re machines or something, just there to give them what they want.” You sighed, remembering a few of the far too many rude customers you had had over the course of your time working where you did. “You even remembered my name…”

“Is that… not a regular occurance?” Ignis asked, genuine surprise coloring his tone.

You shook your head. “I’m usually ‘hey, you!’ or ‘hey, cashier!’ on a good day,” you said, scowling.

“How dreadful,” Ignis replied.

You snorted. “Dreadful doesn’t even start to cut it,” you said. “One time - Gods, this was ridiculous - one time, this lady told me I was too stupid to even work at the fast food place down the street just because I wasn’t done with her heavily customized order in under a minute.” You chuckled at the memory; once the hurt had passed, you remembered it more as an occasion to roll your eyes over. Some people…

“That’s not fair to you at all,” Ignis shot back, echoing your statement from a moment earlier.

You smiled at him. “It’s… it’s really not, isn’t it?”

The waiter arrived and took your drink orders. Not knowing what was good on the menu, you simply opted to have a glass of whatever Ignis ordered; you trusted his judgment.

“It’s truly a shame that some people are absolutely barbaric,” Ignis said.

“It’s okay,” you said. “A lot of stuff makes it worth it. The pay’s pretty nice, the location’s good, and… some of the regulars are really cute.” You winked at him.

Ignis flushed slightly. “Come now, I’m nothing special…” he murmured, but he looked pleased with the compliment nonetheless.

“I mean it!” you exclaimed. “But I guess you know that, considering... “ You hid your face in your hands. “What did my friend even tell you, anyway?”

“She insisted I absolutely had to call you. Something about how she had to tell me because you never would.”

You blushed, drumming your fingers on the tabletop. “W-well, I… It wouldn’t be professional to ask a customer out while I’m on the clock, right?”

Ignis chuckled. “Your adherence to professionalism is admirable, but… I can’t help but find myself glad protocol was broken somewhat, if I may be so bold.”

“Yeah?” you asked.

“You say I’m one of the good things about your job. What’s not to say I enjoy seeing your smiling face first thing in the morning?”

You sputtered. “I-Ignis!” You clapped a hand to your mouth to muffle the nervous laughter that threatened to escape. “That’s… really sweet of you to say.”

“I speak the truth. I spend so much of my time entrenched in politics that I hardly have the stomach for empty compliments outside of work. Though you work customer service for a living, I find your cheer to be quite genuine.”

“That might be partly because of you,” you admitted. “But… there is something really nice about making someone’s day better however you can… there’s too much negativity in the world, yeah? Why add to it?”

Ignis nodded. “Indeed.”

The waiter arrived with your drink orders and took your food orders. You ordered what looked closest to what you generally enjoyed when you went out to eat, and Ignis ordered something completely different.

You sipped at your drink, a light airy wine that complimented the slowly warming weather in the city quite well. A few moments of oddly comfortable silence passed between you and Ignis.

“Is it… difficult, working for the royal family?” you finally asked. You wondered if questions about this kind of stuff irritated him, but you were honestly curious.

Ignis took a sip of his wine. “Hmm…” he thought. “I’ve held the same position since I was a boy, so I can’t really say there is anything to compare it against. It’s… busy, but I honestly don’t think I would trade it for anything.”

“Since you were a kid? Whoa…”

“Indeed,” Ignis said, nodding. “His Majesty wanted someone to guide His Highness, stand beside him as more than just an employee.”

You smiled. “That’s actually really sweet.”

“I would like to think this is a role I perform well… even if I still cannot get His Highness to eat his vegetables to this day…”

“Sounds like your average teenage boy to me,” you remarked, wondering a touch too late if perhaps what you had said was rude.

Ignis only sighed in response. “It is how he would prefer people see him as… It doesn’t stop me from hiding spinach in his meals, though.” He smirked softly, giving his sharp features a mischievous look to them. Ooh, you liked that.

Before you could respond, the waiter arrived with your food. Yours smelled divine, and whatever Ignis had ordered looked pretty appetizing too. You eagerly dug into your meal, though you took care to not look sloppy in front of your date.

A scratching noise brought your attention to the other side of the table. Ignis had a silver notebook in his hands and was writing something down. “I daresay I can recreate this…” he murmured.

You raised an eyebrow. “Just from tasting it?” you asked.

Ignis nodded. “A learned skill, perfected from many years of trial and error.”

“That’s pretty cool. You’re full of surprises, Ignis.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Ignis asked, a perplexed frown settling on his features.

You shook your head. “No, definitely not. Gosh…” you trailed off, drumming your fingers on the tabletop nervously. Would it be too forward to say what you were thinking? Ah, to hell with it, you thought; if he thought it was weird, his loss. “You’re cute, polite, charming, and you cook? Pinch me, I must be dreaming.”

Ignis laughed, a short genuine sound that made butterflies explode in your stomach. “You flatter me…” he said. At least he didn’t seem offended or creeped out?

“I… I mean it. I, ah, I really do like you, Ignis.”

“Well, I would hope so, since we are out on a date.”

A date. He himself had said it; this was definitely a date date then, not just some casual ambiguous outing between two people.

You smiled at him. “I guess I’m just nervous.”

“About what?”

“W-well, I…” you trailed off, wringing your hands under the table and trying to gather your thoughts. “I’m just worried I’m gonna say something dumb or you’re going to think I’m a huge weirdo or something.”

Ignis chuckled softly. “There’s no need to worry. On the contrary, I find you quite endearing.”

You took a bite of your meal to quell the urge to laugh nervously. You didn’t feel awkward with him, but you weren’t used to such… earnest praise. It was clear that Ignis was a man who said what he meant.

The rest of the evening flowed better than you could have ever hoped. Conversation came easy, and he seemed interested in all of the ‘customer horror stories’ you had to offer. He wasn’t able to offer many anecdotes in return (confidentiality reasons, he’d said) but he managed to paint an image of day to day life at the Citadel that was actually far less stuffy than you expected it to be.

When the bill came, Ignis took it and you let him; hopefully you could return the favor on a future date… if there would be one. You were having a good time, but you didn’t know if Ignis was as well or not.

The sudden chill of the night air broke you from your thoughts as you and Ignis left the restaurant. Though the weather was in it’s warming cycle, the nights could still be rather cold. You let out a noise of surprise at the sudden change of temperature and Ignis reacted immediately, shrugging his light jacket off and placing it around your shoulders.

“Oh, thank you…” you said, blushing. At least getting flustered was warming your face, you thought.

“Of course,” Ignis replied, charming smile lighting up his features once more. This man was a work of art, truly. Had the Astrals themselves chiseled him out of marble?

Ignis offered his arm once more, and you took it. Though the fabric of his button-up shirt, you could feel that his arm muscles were toned, solid. Did he work out? At first glance, he’d seemed to have a more ‘nerdy’ physique, but you were beginning to think he was stronger than he looked. It made sense; if he was in direct service of the royal family, it would make sense if he were trained in combat of some sort. Or maybe it just came from hefting pots and pans around. You chuckled at the mental image, and Ignis turned his head to look at you.

“What kinds of things do you cook?” you asked him, pulling the jacket tighter around you as the wind gusted slightly. It smelled like him; fancy cologne and something faintly musky.

“I have a variety of staples, but I tend to stay with what I know the people around me will enjoy most. For example, I myself am fond of light pastries, whereas His Highness generally enjoys more savory dishes.”

You grinned. “But still no vegetables.”

“Still no vegetables,” Ignis replied with a sigh, though the smile on his face made it clear he held the crown prince in high regard, distaste for vegetables notwithstanding. “Perhaps next time we can dine in, and I can show you what I’m capable of.”

Next time. Next time. He wanted a next time. Those words swirled around in your head and you had to resist the urge to jump up in glee. It was a moment before you realized he probably expected you to say something in response. “That sounds great,” you said, trying to sound eager but not overly enthusiastic; you didn’t want to freak him out by closing in so fast. No, you really liked Ignis, and you wanted to do this right.

Far too soon, you arrived at your apartment. You had half a mind to invite him in, but you had a feeling he would refuse, gentleman that he was. It was honestly… endearing, if you were being honest. Ignis had been nothing but perfectly courteous the whole time you’d known him, and for some reason that well-mannered exterior made your heart flutter like mad.

“Guess this is it,” you said, trying to find something to say that didn’t make you sound needy.

Ignis nodded. “I’ve had a lovely evening, and I do hope you feel the same.”

“Definitely,” you said, nodding enthusiastically.

“Until next time, my dear,” he said, picking up your hand in his and raising it to his lips to kiss it softly. Your heart hammered in your throat. Such an old-world gesture… and yet it worked for him.

He dropped your hand, reluctance twinging his features; at least you weren’t the only one who didn’t want this night to be over.

Before he could go, however, you gripped his arm, prompting him to turn back and face you. Screwing up all of your courage, you surged forward and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. When you pulled away, he was blushing. The sight of his flushed cheeks and surprised expression was absolutely breathtaking, and you had to stomp down the urge to cover him in more kisses.

“Ah, I…” For once, he seemed to be at a loss for words.

“Call me,” you said, winking at him and retreating inside.

There was a moment of silence on the other side of the door before you heard him turn and finally walk away. When you were certain he had gone, you let out a breath and slumped with your back against your front door.

You… you had definitely done that. At least he hadn’t seemed displeased? And he definitely wanted to see you again, right?

Well, if he suddenly stopped showing up at your work, you supposed you’d have an answer to that… But you had a good feeling about this. You were hopeful that this could really be something.

You were three steps into your living room before you realized you’d never given him back his jacket. Oh well. It was your jacket now.

(Customer anecdote actually happened to me, except I was bagging groceries instead of making coffee)

#ignis scientia #ffxv #final fantasy xv #fanfiction #reader insert

72 notes · View notes

briemudzinski · 6 years

Text

Unexpected

Frank

When I looked into his case I was an intern at the NYT’s I was there to hand out paper work at meetings, and collect coffee orders. I wasn’t allowed into press conferences or allowed to voice my opinion, the newspaper was constantly face passed and always moving so I stayed on the side and absorbed everything I could. I had just graduated that May and had landed an internship anyone would have dreamed of, however when signing up I did believe it would have been a little bit different. However, I knew one day I wouldn’t just be delivering caramel mochas, and hot espresso shots. I would get my chance to voice my opinion, however who would have guessed I would find my voice on one of the deadliest cases to ever hit New York city. It was mid November 2017, and just about everyone had heard of “the punisher”, a cold stoned killer ravaging his way through New York city, no eyes on him, not a trace of him, just bodies to follow his name. For all we knew the punisher was a woman. The only thing that had been stated about this killer was that he or she didn’t kill for sport, all of these murders had been of people accused of something; murder, man slaughter, stealing, rape, underground mafia. Every kill had an explanation, so were these kills worth it maybe so. Maybe this so-called punisher was a good guy but that was only seen by so many people. Labeled as a terrorist and constantly wanted on every news screen, people were warned not to walk out late at night, not to peruse New York city in the dark however being a true new Yorker myself everyone knows in the city that never sleeps you don’t really get a choice in the matter.

So, leaving my internship to head back to my apartment one late night of sorting through paperwork and filling away old stories, had me kept up late in the office. I left at around 6:30, so it was pitch black out with only the slight ora of a street lamp to guide my way home. I lived in hell’s kitchen, it was close enough to the main areas of the city where I could always find something to do but far away enough where I could get some space. My internship payed me very well, as well as having my trust fund from my grandparents, I was able to live on my own with out so much of a worry other than walking home alone at night. I walked with a usual fast pace, keeping to myself with my headphones in walking to the beat of the music. I was bundled up with my leggings, pea coat, scarf and gloves however the wind was a bitter hold this night that had my exposed skin burning. The air smelled of winter it was crisp and cold which was comforting because it usually smelled of hot cement and perspiration. I was about 10 minutes away from home following a few short cuts down an alley to cut my time in half, I usually never take this way but I thought with this late night it would be in my best interest to get home as soon as I could however in doing this soon I soon realized I should have taken my regular route home. The alley had smelt of garbage and old beer, I kept my head down and watched my footing, this alley was notorious to hold a few homeless men, but they were usually asleep when I would walk though, dropping change every now and then. At the end of the alley were a few men gathered around a fire in one of the old garbage bins, trying to keep warm they huddled together. I saw a few of them swaying back and forth and could hear their laughter through my headphones. I don’t know what it was that made my stomach turn, it might have been the sight of them or maybe the smell of them liquor excreted from there pores and wafted into my face, but I did everything I could to walk by them as quickly as possible without drawing to much attention to myself. I pushed myself to the right grazing the brick wall to keep myself as far away as possible. Out of sight and out of mind however I was in their sight and officially planted into there minds. I heard a few cat calling whistles as I walked past, I smiled trying to be polite but had refused to pay them any mind. However, they took more offense to that, with a abrupt stop I halted myself to stop from running into the tallest mans chest, he made his way to stand in front of me blocking my way of getting to the end of the alley. I took a few steps back and ended up bumping into the larger male with a strong chest. There breathe smelled of bitter tequila and bad breath. The third man stood a few feet behind to watch. “Please excuse me gentleman” I said to them as I kept my head down and tried to move to the side and out of the way. However, the tall gentleman in front had other ideas. “Come on sweetness why don’t you stay a while we don’t bite,” the men behind me laughed at his comment. Once again, I smiled but tried to move out of his way, “please I would like to go home its getting late.” I could feel the gentleman behind me drawing closer to my body, I could feel him trying to smell me, I shiver ran down my spine. I had no idea how I was going to get out of this, what I should do. Scream? Run? All three of them would over power me, but maybe in the state they were in I would be able to outrun them and reach a public area. I was a fool for coming down this alley, I wanted to cry for being such an imbusil but I knew at this moment I had to stay strong. The man behind me walking closer as well as the taller one in front of me drawing closer I wasn’t sure which way I should turn. “What are we not good enough for you?” the man asked with an irritaeted tone “no please”. I whimpered stepping away, “I think we can show you how good we actually are for you, cant we boys?” the leader of the group clearly stood out and was the main one asking all the questions. The boys had agreed with laughter and had, had enough of me not complying as they drew closer. Without any other choice I pushed the taller man in front of me with all the power I had in me, and watched with a shocked expression as he toppled over and hit his head hard against the frozen cement, and with that I had taken my opportunity to run. I ran with all of my might trying to reach the end of the alley, I knew at this point I was already crying but I kept running I knew I was about to make it until I felt a firm grip on my hair wrench me back. It hurt terribly as I was flung against a wall my head taking the brunt of the hit, I let out a high-pitched scream as my head cracked against the brick wall I was dizzy but didn’t pass out. As I slid down the wall I felt a body crawl on top of me, with panic in my heart I started to scream and cry. Hitting with all of my might I felt completely weak underneath this man, he was heavy and sweating even in the cold weather, he smelt of garbage and liquor. I felt him panting on top of me swearing and muttering to himself as the two others behind him coaxed him on. He reached for his belt and that’s what drew me into fight or flight, I tried to buck him off of me, I screamed and spit in his face scratching at his skin. With a hard smack across my face that I knew would bruise, I hoped he would hit me again harder maybe it would knock me out, maybe I wouldn’t feel anything. I tried to regain my strength a little bit more screaming for anyone to help me. I closed my eyes trying to will myself to pass out maybe it would go by fast maybe I wouldn’t feel anything. I quietly whimpered to myself as I felt his greedy hands tear at my clothes, and then I heard something behind him but didn’t dare to open my eyes. With gruphs and yelling going on behind him I heard yells and cracks, something that sounded branches breaking in a harsh storm, like rocks hitting against one another, I heard a few loud yells and then nothing. The man still laid on top of me before he was gone in seconds. The weight lifted off of my body instantaneously, it felt like a dream like he wasn’t even there. I prayed to myself, something I rarely do not being a religious person, but at this moment I needed anyone to talk to. I curled myself up against the wall as I heard more yells a few feet away continuous smashing sounds and cracking’s, whatever it was didn’t sound good in the slightest but I was grateful for whatever it was. I stayed in my ball against the wall the cold cement underneath me causing me to shacking uncontrollably. I squeezed my eyes shut so tightly I felt my eyelids start to cramp but I was too scared to open them. I felt a hand gently wrap itself around my leg however I delt no other choice but to try and scream and pull away again. However, with the hand tightening around me this person spoke to me and he don’t sound like the other men. “Shh shh darling it’s okay, your okay” “Please, please, don’t hurt me” I begged the mysterious man as I tried to crawl away. “No, no, I’m not here to hurt yuh. I took care of it don’t you worry yourself.” “Did they hurt you? Did any of them touch you?” his voice was deep with a certain rasp to it and heavily New Yorker. He sounded concerned, was he the one who had stopped this from going any further. I didn’t know how to answer him. I finally opened my eyes to look around, my vision was blurred and everything was spinning. I took a look at myself covered in dirt and muck some of my clothes ripped, I tried to pull myself together and cover my exposed skin to the stranger who I assumed saved my life. I finally looked up at him, covered head to toe in black and face barely visible through facial hair and covered in a hoodie. His eyes were a deep brown, almost black his face slightly bruised almost as if he was healing from a past confrontation. I tried to answer him, but I couldn’t find the words to speak or the will to move I was losing my breathe everything that had just happened all coming back to me running through my head I felt as if I was going to pass out. I tried to stand up but only found that my legs had gone numb from the cold causing me to fall over, with a firm grasp on me the man has managed to move from my leg to hosting me up on my own two feet. He stood a full foot taller than me, as I looked up at him through my lashes, moving up to fast I got dizzy once again leaning back getting ready to hit the brick wall again. “Hey, hey, hey, you’re alright. You gotta stay with me you hit your head pretty hard.” I heard him say to me with his deep brooding voice which seemed intimidating however at this moment it soothed me. I did try, I tried to keep my eyes open to stare at my savior however the more I tried to keep my eyes open the more the world seemed to spin around me. Within the matter of seconds I felt myself lifted from the ground and wrapped in this stranger’s arms, close to his chest he was warm and full his arms feeling like the closest thing to home at this moment, his scent was warm a mix of mint and vanilla. I didn’t know if I had a concussion but right now all I wanted to do was shut my eyes and forget everything, and so I did.

#thepunisher #the #punisher #frank #frankcastle #castle #oneshot #one shots #one shot #fanfic #fan fic #fanfiction #imagines #imagine #smut

44 notes · View notes

minsazucar-archive · 7 years

Text

Your Number rated pg for uh...cussing i guess lol word count: 3,553 ship: yoonjin desc: You know that cliche scene in dramas, where you write your name on a coffee cup for your crush? Yeah, that doesn't really work in real life. Or does it?

AO3 link

The campus coffee shop was swarming with ragged looking students, caught up in the hell of midterms week. The coffee shop employees had the pleasure of suffering through midterms and working hectic shifts all week. After working at the cafe for almost two years, Seokjin was hardly fazed by the hustle and bustle; the same couldn’t be said for Taehyung who was suffering his first midterm rush.

The poor boy was the only barista on duty for at least ten more minutes until Jungkook clocked in and could take over the register. Seokjin would’ve been better as a barista, but Taehyung didn’t do well at the register under pressure, so here he stood, all smiles and chipper greetings to the endless mob of zombie students.

The mid-morning rush was just beginning to die down when he finally walked in. Seokjin immediately lit up as he watched Jimin walk through the entrance, looking excessively adorable in his sweats and hoodie. For the past few weeks Jimin had become their most frequent customer, partly because his best friend Taehyung started working here. Seokjin also liked to think their light flirting had something to do with it.

“Good morning Jimin, what can I get you today?” He greeted the boy with a smile.

“Morning Jin. I think today an americano will be fine.” Jimin replied somewhat sleepily, but that just made his smile even cuter.

“Stronger than usual. What’s the occasion?” Seokjin asked casually, picking up a cup and writing his name and order before sliding it over to Taehyung’s growing queue of drinks.

“I was up all night cramming for an exam.” Jimin whined a bit, slumping on the counter.

“That’s not the greatest study strategy.” Seokjin laughed, slightly disappointed when another person stepped in line, Jimin straightening up to leave.

“Teach me a better one sometime.” Jimin called over his shoulder with a wink as he walked away and Seokjin smiled.

He took the next order and startled a bit when Jungkook came up behind him. He checked the clock and noted the boy was 5 minutes late but he let it slide when he offered to take over the register. Seokjin let him handle the growing line and went to finally assist Taehyung who was eight drinks behind and starting to break a sweat.

It hardly felt like they were making a dent in the stack, Jungkook adding more drinks as fast as they could brew them. Seokjin grabbed the next two cups, both americanos, and smiled a bit. Making a split decision, he whipped out a pen and scribbled his phone number on Jimin’s order before placing both cups under the espresso drips.

He went about making a complicated frappucino (really, were such specific flavor ratios so important?) but he still noticed when Taehyung capped the finished americanos and took them out to the counter. The younger boy shot Seokjin a smile when he noticed the additional writing and Seokjin just rolled his eyes, back to blending.

“Two americanos, Jimin and Yoongi.” Taehyung called out, walking back to Seokjin’s side.

What happened next felt like something out of a movie, both boys watching the events unfold in almost slow motion. Jimin strolled up to the counter leisurely, ready to pick out his drink, when another person walked up and just snatched the first drink he saw, walking out rather abruptly. Jimin blinked a few times (the guy had literally shoved passed him) before reaching for the remaining drink with a frown. He looked up and caught Seokjin watching with his mouth slightly agape and smiled sweetly.

“This one says ‘Yoongi’ but they’re both americanos, right?” Jimin asked, still smiling.

“Y-yeah. Both americanos.” Seokjin nodded, trying his best to smile back.

“No big deal then. See you guys later.” Jimin replied, picking up the drink and walking out with a friendly wave.

Seokjin looked back around to where Taehyung was staring at him in a similar state of shock. It was Jungkook’s laughter that snapped them out of it, obnoxious and loud as he abandoned the register to finish up drinks. The line had finally dispersed as 10 a.m. classes were drawing close so the trio scrambled to finish the orders to get the students to class on time. In the lull following the rush, Seokjin excused himself to the back room and proceeded to scream into a dish towel for a few minutes.

✷✷✷

“Seokjin, I think you’re overreacting.” Jungkook commented in their dorm room later that night.

“Overreacting? I’m not overreacting, I’m perfectly calm.” He replied in a tight voice, continuing to bustle around the small living room.

Seokjin was not, in fact, perfectly calm. Taehyung and Jungkook sat lazily on his sofa, where they had watched him nervously pace and deep clean the dorm room for the past two hours. But everything was okay, perfectly fine, just real dandy. The two boys finally intervened when he started polishing the wood table so hard it began to creak. He plopped on the couch between his two friends and focused on breathing, Taehyung rubbing soothing circles into his back. After he calmed down a bit Jungkook cleared his throat to grab their attention.

“Listen, the guy isn’t gonna call you or anything. He would clearly see he got the wrong drink, maybe laugh, but that’s about it. It’s all good.” The younger boy reasoned and Seokjin felt himself deflate a bit.

“Yeah, yeah you’re right. Right?” Seokjin sighed, smile wary and in need of reassurance that the others were happy to give.

“Right.” Jungkook said firmly, smiling in a way that he supposed was comforting.

The trio sat on the couch for a bit as Seokjin calmed down before diving into an argument over what to have for dinner. Taehyung was well on his way to explaining why pickled quail eggs would be perfect for tonight when a phone started vibrating on the table. The three looked down and quickly confirmed it was Seokjin’s and he leaned over to check the number before answering. He faltered for a second, hand hovering over the answer button.

“I don’t know this number.” Seokjin stated, staring at the screen blankly. Everyone was silent, a looming feeling of no way, it can’t be floating in the air around them.

“You don’t think…” Taehyung murmured, eyes wide and lips fighting not to smile. Seokjin stood up stiffly and walked a short distance from the amused pair before answering.

“Hello?” He spoke hesitantly trying to ignore his sweaty palms.

“Um, hey. I uh, I’m the guy that took the wrong coffee this morning. It had your number on it?” A voice rasped over the line and Seokjin felt his stomach drop. He really did it, the guy actually called.

“Oh. Yeah, fantastic, I’m sorry I guess.” Seokjin replied, voice clipped.

“If you don’t mind me asking, which one are you?” The guy asked and Seokjin had to clear his throat to fight the nerves.

“Uh, my name is Seokjin. I’m the tallest one? The oldest too.”

“Oh, that one.” The voice said sounding almost relieved, “My name is Yoongi by the way.”

Seokjin didn’t have time to decode the tone of voice, his anxiety rising just slightly now that he’d been identified. He could get in so much trouble for pulling a stunt like writing his number on a patron’s cup. He’d witnessed 3 people get written up for stuff like that in his two years at the shop. He’d be no exception to punishment, even with his seniority and perfect track record.

“Alright, well, Yoongi, sorry about the mix up, please don’t report me to management for harassment or something-” Seokjin’s pleading was cut off by an awkward fake cough from the other line. There was some grumbling and static and Seokjin’s brows knitted in confusion as he waited for the other man to speak.

“You wanna go out sometime?” Yoongi eventually mumbled out and Seokjin halted in his pacing.

“Excuse me?” He replied, a little shell shocked by the proposition.

It seemed he wasn’t the only one taken aback by the question, as the other line went silent as well. Seokjin could almost feel the embarrassment radiating from the receiver and the thought made him smile a bit. Finally a sigh broke through the static, followed by some more grumbling and another fake cough.

“Fuck, this is weird right? But hey, carpe diem, or some shit…” Yoongi’s voice trailed off into grumbles again, static threatening to overtake the sound.

Maybe it was the stress from midterms, maybe it was the light accent in Yoongi’s voice. Maybe it was just meant to be, but whatever the reason Seokjin found himself clutching the phone closer and smiling ruefully as he made up his mind.

“Yeah, uh...sure then. Okay.” Seokjin spoke confidently into the receiver, shocking even himself with his even tone.

“Okay? Like, you’ll go out with me?” The voice sounded a bit incredulous and Seokjin nodded before realizing he couldn’t be seen.

“Yes, yeah sure, why not. Just don’t report me or anything. Even if the date goes bad, please, I don’t want to lose my job over this.” Seokjin practically pleaded into the phone, earning a throaty laugh from Yoongi.

“Alright. Cool. I’ll...text you or something. You free on Friday?”

“Yeah, it’s my day off actually.”

“Nice. Okay. Yeah. Alright, bye Seokjin.”

“Bye Yoongi…”

Seokjin stood there with the phone pressed to his ear until the dial tone blared over the speaker. He lowered the phone slowly and ended the call, staring at the darkening screen for what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes. He took a shallow breath and walked back into the living room, meeting the worried expressions of his roommates.

“So, I have a date on Friday?”

They stared back with matching dumbfounded expressions. The delicate moment was broken with Jungkook’s sputtering.

“Seokjin, what the fuck.”

✷✷✷

Seokjin wasn’t too sure what he was expecting when Friday rolled around. Yoongi had in fact texted him and they’d been engaged in a casual conversation since. He knew that Yoongi was a senior (like him), that he majored in Literature (interesting) and that he worked part-time in an old record shop (pretty cool). Yoongi knew just about as much about him, except he had one slight advantage: Seokjin had absolutely no idea what Yoongi looked like.

Yoongi wasn’t exactly a regular at the coffee shop, at least not during the hours Seokjin worked. The only thing Seokjin could recall from the day Yoongi grabbed the wrong cup was that he was short, maybe shorter than Jimin. Other than that, nothing. Meanwhile it seemed like Yoongi was well aware of who Seokjin was. He felt both a bit apprehensive and a bit excited at the prospect that this was kind of like a blind date.

They decided to meet up Friday for a late lunch at a popular barbecue place not too far from campus. Seokjin arrived a few minutes early and scanned the restaurant for anyone who might be his mystery date. After confirming there were no short, lonesome college men waiting for someone, Seokjin made himself comfortable in the foyer, messing with his phone for lack of anything better to do. It didn’t take maybe another few minutes before the door opened and someone new walked in.

“Uh, Seokjin?” A vaguely familiar voice called from behind and Seokjin spun around to see a new face.

The guy was indeed short and his body petite to match. Or maybe it was just the tight jeans and baggy tee that made him seem even thinner. Bubblegum pink hair was visible from under a black beanie, messy bangs falling just short of sharp eyes and oh no he’s pretty. Yoongi continued to stand there awkwardly and it was then that Seokjin realized he hadn’t answered yet.

“Yes. Me. That’s me. Seokjin.” He announced, face hot and speech a bit jilted as he tried to recover his cool.

“Hey, I’m Yoongi. Nice to finally really meet you I guess.” Yoongi said with a small smile, extending his hand in greeting.

“Definitely.” Seokjin replied breathlessly, shaking his hand (a very pretty hand) maybe a little too enthusiastically.

Yoongi pulled back and coughed awkwardly, just like he’d done countless times over the phone, probably a nervous habit of his. He excused himself to go talk to the hostess, giving Seokjin a quick minute to take a deep breath and recenter his focus. The guy was attractive, but Seokjin had dealt with plenty of attractive people; Seokjin was an attractive people. He could do this, he could totally do this-

“I hope you weren’t waiting here long.” Yoongi stepped back into his line of sight and Seokjin felt his face grow hot again.

“No, not at all. Maybe like 3 minutes top.” He followed the waitress to their table, smiling amicably once they were seated.

“That’s good. Uh, you can order whatever you’d like. It’s my treat today.” Yoongi motioned vaguely over the menu, eyes downcast.

“No way, we can split the check.”

“Really, I insist. It’s uh, I mean I asked you out. It’s dating etiquette or whatever.”

Seokjin hummed disapprovingly but let it slide for now. There was something like determination in Yoongi’s tone and he didn’t want to fight over the check on the first date. So he went ahead and ordered his favorite meat cut combo and only let his heart flutter a little bit at Yoongi’s nod of approval. If there was one thing Seokjin knew, it was food.

While they wait for food, Seokjin takes it upon himself to carry the conversation. He talks a little bit about everything, from his disastrous roommates to the test he probably failed an hour ago. Normally having to drive a conversation so much would be a turnoff, but Seokjin is genuinely enjoying the small ways Yoongi responds to him. It’s in the relaxing of his posture, the slow nodding, the twitch of his lips every now and then; Seokjin would talk forever if it meant Yoongi would be listening.

Alright, that was an awfully cheesy thought and Seokjin might’ve been jumping the gun, but he’d always been a romantic at heart. When the food arrived, Yoongi offered to cook and serve Seokjin first, an offer he reluctantly obliged. While he grilled Seokjin continued talking, pausing every now and then to offer some help, all of which went dismissed. When he started piling the pieces of cooked meat on Seokjin’s plate he did the courteous thing and stuffed his mouth before it got cold. That caused Yoongi to crack a wide smile that showed his gums and Seokjin felt his face flush. Cute. He also noted that Yoongi had the tendency to fake-cough whenever he felt flustered, which totally wasn’t cute.

And then just like that it was like their roles were reversed. Yoongi started chattering away about this and that, in a smooth rumbling tone that was honestly relaxing. He did these subtle hand motions to go along with whatever story he was telling and made eye contact a lot more often. There was this mischievous glint Yoongi would get in his eyes whenever he told a particularly funny story; Seokjin could see himself falling in love with it.

Eventually they trailed off into a comfortable silence while they both ate, Seokjin slipping small compliments about how well the meat was cooked. If he only did this to see Yoongi blush, well, who could blame him really. Seokjin was nothing if not a charmer and he’d decided Yoongi was someone worth charming.

Halfway through their meal, Seokjin paused after a bite and put down his chopsticks. His lack of motion caught Yoongi’s attention and he paused in his eating as well, raising his brow in question. Seokjin hummed and asked the thing that had been plaguing him since he first got Yoongi’s call.

“I’m curious, what made you call the number written on a cup that obviously wasn’t yours?”

The question was bound to come up, surely Yoongi knew this, but it didn’t stop him from flushing as soon as the words left Seokjin’s mouth. Yoongi fake-coughed again as he tried to gather his thoughts. Seokjin started thinking he should keep count next time before he realized he was already thinking of a next time. He snapped out of his little daydream of a second date when Yoongi started speaking, more of a gruff mumble to hide his embarrassment.

“Yeah, so, I wasn’t going to call. But my roommate thought it was fucking hilarious and conned me into calling.”

“Sounds like a keeper.” Seokjin commented jokingly to lighten the mood. It worked and he watched a bit of the tension drain from Yoongi’s shoulders.

“Yeah, he basically held me at gunpoint while I called. And when he found out it was you on the line, he commenced operation ‘make Yoongi ask him out’.”

“Why me? You don’t think the others are cute?” Seokjin joked and Yoongi did another of his flustered fake coughs.

“Uh, you see, I’ve had kind of a small crush on you for a while now. Hoseok always teases the shit out of me because we’ve never actually talked or anything.”

“I swear I’ve never seen you in the coffee shop. Are you a stalker?” Seokjin deadpanned and that got a laugh out of Yoongi.

“Fuck off, no I’m not. We actually had a class together last semester.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah, it was philosophy. With Dr. Kim. You sat like two rows in front of me.” Yoongi tapped his fingers nervously on the table, but laughed when he met Seokjin’s blank expression. “You don’t have to remember me, I was usually asleep in the back.”

“So that lump of gray hoodie in the back was you?” Seokjin asked with a smile, finally remembering the guy that unfailingly fell asleep by the end of every lecture.

Yoongi let out a snort which shouldn’t have been attractive, but it was, and they continued their meal in comfortable silence.

Not for the first time today Seokjin’s mind drifted to thoughts of Jimin. Would a date with Jimin go something like this? Would he get flustered at every flirty word, but the minute a dad joke slipped out, look like he was ready to walk away from the table? Would he have a nervous habit like drumming his fingers or looking down while smiling?

The more Seokjin thought about the possibilities the more he realized he didn’t care. He’d been flirting with the other boy for over a month now; safe to say he missed his shot. Meanwhile, Yoongi took a leap of faith by calling a mystery number in the off-chance that maybe Seokjin would be on the other end.

The thought made him feel all warm and gooey inside, and he couldn’t help the cheesy smile that broke across his face. Yoongi was looking at him quizzically, toying with the edge of his beanie to fix his bangs. Seokjin had always liked the color pink but he possibly loved it more now that he’s witnessed the way it softened the harsh lines of Yoongi’s eyes.

Yoongi’s eyes, which were still watching him like he was a bit worried, and oh yeah he was probably still staring and smiling like a sap. Seokjin cleared his throat and did his best to school his features into something more serious.

“You probably already figured, but I had written my number for somebody else.”

“Yeah…” Yoongi looked down and away, dejection clear in his posture and Seokjin fought back another smile as he continued, tone still grave.

“But I’m really glad you picked it up instead.”

Yoongi looked up at that, surprise clear on his face, and this time it was Seokjin’s turn to look away in embarrassment, gentle smile on his lips. For the first time that day, their silence was tense and slightly charged with...something, Seokjin wasn’t quite sure of what. Just as soon as it came, it was disrupted by the arrival of the waiter. Yoongi snatched the check before Seokjin could even try to protest and slipped his card to the waiter. He seemed rather smug about that and Seokjin just rolled his eyes and laughed.

They continued talking as they left the restaurant, the air turning crisp as it approached evening time. Seokjin didn’t have anywhere to be for the rest of the day and he kind of wished he could just never leave this moment. He couldn’t think of someplace he’d rather be than right here, on the sidewalk, watching Yoongi talk about his weird coworker.

Actually, there was one other place he could think of.

“Hey, Yoongi.” Seokjin touched the man’s shoulder to get his attention, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. “There’s this dessert place down the street I’ve been wanting to try. If you’re not busy right now, want to join me?”

Yoongi blinked a couple times, processing both the hand on his shoulder and the question it seemed. After a few seconds, a shy smile snuck onto his face and he relaxed into the touch.

“Yeah, okay, sure.”

Seokjin didn’t try to fight his wide smile this time, looping his arm fully around Yoongi’s shoulder to lead the way.

“Fantastic. Also, this one is my treat.”

#yoonjin #pg #1-5k #yoongi #seokjin #bts fic #bts fanfic #hello ive returned after a year lol

8 notes · View notes