#You could not give up your watered down latte w too much sugar and the fact that the ice in it is already melting which | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

midnight-writ3r · 5 years

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Caramel Latte

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x genderneutral reader

Genre: Fluff, slight angst, love confessions, getting together

Wordcount: 2.5 k

Inspired by: My soft hours for Taeyong and a coffee at 10 p.m.

Summary: Only at ten p.m. in the evening and over a cold Caramel Latte, does Taeyong understand his mistake.

A/N: Y´all first things first, Taeyong is one of my ults and I squealed while writing this, so I hope it´ll turn you super soft and smushy as well <3

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"Night, Y/N, don't forget to close the backdoor, when you're done."

You wave a lazy hand at Yuta, "That happened once and it was years ago. Will you let it go?"

"I was terrified! Imagine someone stole the coffee machine, or worse", Yuta frowns and shoulders his bag, "The curtains."

You laugh, eyeing the dark blue velvet curtains, hung around the coffee shop. They are the most expensive element in the whole establishment and Yuta would most definitely not hesitate to kill a man in favour of keeping them safe. They clash with the cheap, wooden tables and the many, small plants littered around every available surface. Yuta loves it though and, judging from your frequent customers, he's not the only one. Plus, the coffee is good, you know that yourself. You're the one making it after all.

"I get it, I get it." You chuckle, "now get out of here and home. You've been here since 5 am."

Yuta huffs as he looks at the clock in one of the corners, reading almost 9 p.m. now, "Yeah, maybe I'll try to take things easier tomorrow."

You agree with a nod, completely aware that Yuta would never take things easy, as long as the world still allowed it, "Greet Sicheng from me."

Smiling at the mention of his roommate, Yuta says: "He misses you, you know."

"I'll make sure to visit soon." Sticking your tongue out, you cause him to laugh softly, "but you're making the coffee."

"The things you ask of me." He wipes the back of his hand over his forehead in a dramatic fashion. Then, he gives you one of his beaming smiles, "Good night Y/N, get home safely, okay?"

One last time, you give him a nod and then, he is out of the door. The bell that adorns the doorway chimes away and you're enveloped in silence. Outside, the world is already drowned in the calmness of night and you huff, leaning against the wooden counter-top. No problem. You just have one more hour to go, then you can go home as well. The last hour of the day is never immensely busy but Yuta argues that it pays off in the end.

Waking up the coffee grinder, you sit in one of the seats, checking your phone. Some of your chats have a notification bubble next to them, but you ignore most of them for the moment. As you scroll through them, your thumb hovers over Taeyong's name. He changed his profile picture. It's a selfie of him, with a coffee in his free hand and a pleased smile on his face. Cute. Your throat gets tight and your eyes sting a little.

You quickly scroll past the chat, to get to your best friend and roommate's contact. In moods like these and hours like those, you can't imagine talking to anyone else. Unsurprisingly, there's already a message waiting for you:

Johnny: I still have some chocolate pie left over. Do you want it?

You: Duh, who are you talking to.

You: Besides, I still haven't done that thing they do in the movies. When their hearts get broken and they sit in front of the TV, to watch rom-coms and eat a container of ice cream.

You put your phone aside and let it ding away, in favour of making yourself a cup of coffee. People keep telling you that it isn't wise to drink coffee at such a late hour, since you wouldn't be able to sleep. Well, newsflash: you can always sleep. There's nothing that beats the taste, though. You lean over your phone to check Johnny's reply:

Johnny: I can go buy ice cream, too if you want. Plus, they have the Kissing Booth on Netflix now.

You snort.

You: Netflix and chill, who? We're doing Netflix and cry.

Johnny: To each their own.

Johnny: Jokes aside though, how are you feeling?

You take a deep breath, hovering your thumbs over the screen. How are you feeling? That's a good question. It's not quite like in the movies, where you feel like crying your heart out all night. Everything just feels a lot duller. Somehow, you just don't feel very complete. As if someone ripped your heart out and now, there is a tiny hole that lets in the cold air from outside.

You: Idk John, it's all still so fresh.

Johnny: I mean, it happened just a few days ago, so I'm not blaming you.

Johnny: We're worried though. Mark and I. You know we're there to talk if you want to, right?

Your heart warms up a little at the mention of your other best friend. Mark and Johnny had always been able to put a smile on your lips, no matter what. This time around though, you find yourself helpless. Find that not even the silly jokes your friends make are enough to get you out of your head.

And all that thanks to Taeyong.

You want to hate him, but you know that that would be absurd. Just because you had been crushing on him for over a year, doesn't mean he has to automatically reciprocate those very feelings. Sometimes, love is one-sided and that's natural. It doesn't hurt any less though. You can still remember his face, when you finally gathered the guts to tell him; you had never seen him so very terrified. He had barely managed to rasp out a small 'I'm sorry, I can't', before storming out of the room. Ever since then, you hadn't talked at all.

Which is ridiculous, because the two of you always talked. Any hour, any day, any occasion. Despite not knowing him for as long as Johnny, Mark or Yuta, there had never been anyone who made you feel at home as much as he had. You had done your homework together, had shared clothes, had watched movies and broken down plots, characters and everything there was to be criticized. You had read the stories you wrote, to him, while had let you listen to every track he composed, without exception. When he wasn't at your place, you were usually at his. When you fought, both of you would hurry to apologize by the next day, just because being without the other didn't feel right.

The two of you were soul mates, but then you had to destroy everything.

You: Thanks boo, I really appreciate it <3

You: I'll just finish my shift and then come home.

You: There better be some of that pie left.

Sighing again, you shut off your phone and close your hands around the warm coffee mug. There's that ache in your chest again. You had promised Johnny and yourself to stop thinking about him – stop thinking about that day – but that is so way easier said than done. You wonder what he's doing right now. If maybe, he already has someone to complete his heart and he's with them right now. The thought crushes you even more, so you shake your head to get rid of it.

Thankfully, a pair of girls come into the coffee shop at that moment and you're momentarily distracted. They stay for a while, after getting their order and chat a little with you. You put on your best smile, hoping it's enough for now. Another handful of customers come and go and suddenly, the clock reads 9.56 pm. You resist counting the seconds, or running to the entrance to lock up a little sooner, because that chocolate pie is really calling for you by now. Johnny even sent some pictures. Mmmmh.

You're in the middle of cleaning off the last couple of cups, when the doorbell chimes again. Looking up, you check who would dare to walk in last-minute and your breath gets stuck in your throat. Your hands grip the edge of the counter and you try to keep your eyes from watering. What is he doing here?

Taeyong looks as stunning as ever. His hair is styled neatly, brows sharp and a denim jacket slung over his shoulders that you always liked on him. There's a flower in his hand: a delicate white one, which he gently holds between the tips of his fingers. His eyes are the worst though – they look so sad and apologetic that you want to hit your head against the wall. Despite his usual calmness, they're red around the edges and as you don't want to read too much into that, you look away.

"What-" you clear your throat, "what can I get you?"

He hesitates for a second, before sliding into one of the seats at the counter. The flower is placed on the counter-top next to him, patiently waiting, "A caramel latte please."

You nod, "there's still some left, one second."

Pulling the jug from the coffee machine, you empty the remains of the coffee into a clean cup. Adding a little bit of caramel syrup, sugar and milk, you slide the cup across the counter. He thanks you with a strained, little smile and takes a sip. To your surprise he makes a disgusted face. He seems to attempt hiding it, but you still see it.

"What?" You ask, mildly offended.

"Nothing it's just", he huffs a gentle laugh, "it's cold."

You frown, taking the cup and taking a sip of your own. It is cold. And not in a very delicious way.

"I'm so sorry, I'll make a new one-"

"Y/N."

You turn to look at him. As soon as your eyes meet, you feel like looking away again, "W-what?"

"I thought about what happened", he mumbles, playing with the petals of his flower, "About what you said to me and I-... I wanted to apologize."

You bite the inside of your cheek and shake your head, "No Tae, you did nothing wrong. I should be the one to apologize. I just threw you off guard with all my dumb feelings, even though I should have known-"

"Please Y/N", he hurries, his eyes a little panicked now, "Don't take it back."

Your eyebrows furrow, "Huh?"

"I-" he gulps and looks down at his hands, "I made a mistake. It's true, I was taken aback by your confession, but that doesn't mean it was unwanted." You watch him closely, as he takes a few deep breaths, to collect himself, "The truth is, I'd never considered anything like this. With you, everything seemed to go so easy – so natural. The idea of a relationship was so strange, because I just didn't feel like we could get any closer.

I was scared of having to change the way we were, because I've never had a friend like you. I didn't want to loose you." running a hand through his hair, he gives a frustrated groan, "but then, the last days I started to think – really think – what it would be like. You know, having you as- as a partner and uhm- being your boyfriend."

He's getting all flustered now and your confused heart can't do anything but flutter at how cute it is. It's thumping so loudly, you're barely able to make sense of the words he says.

"In retrospect, to be honest I think that we already were a couple." he laughs nervously, "I realized that if I were to share every aspect of my life with someone else, there never was another option apart from you. You understand me, never judge me, you make me smile – make me feel like I don't want to be anywhere else. W-what I want to say is", he makes sure to look at you and from the corner of your vision, you see his hands shake, "that I like you too. And refusing you was the biggest mistake I've ever made."

You're frozen, staring at him, as he waits for you to say something, "Tae... I..."

"I've broken your heart and I- I could never apologize enough for that, but-"

"Tae, hold up a second." you stop him, before he can start rambling, "You-you're not mad at me?"

"Mad?" Taeyong's eyes widen as if that was the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard, "Are you kidding? I could never- I miss you. More than anything else. I want things to turn back to the way they were but... different. Maybe with a bit more couple-stuff, you know?" he shrugs awkwardly.

You can't help but laugh at him and his big, pleading eyes, "Couple-stuff, eh?" you lean against the counter, feeling your heart flutter as he leans in as well, "and what would that be?"

"We could start out small." he proposes, his hand creeping towards yours. With a smile, you intertwine your fingers.

"And how?"

Taeyong leans in even further, his eyes flickering to your lips every other second, "With a kiss, maybe? That's very couple-ish."

You stifle a grin, "Yeah okay, sounds good.

The distance between the two of you closes in a heartbeat, lips connecting like rain-drenched rose petals. Taeyong tastes of the cold coffee and something so distinctly Taeyong that you can't help put press a little closer. His hand wanders to your neck, as you continue to kiss, supporting you and guiding you at the same time. The two of you move slow, taking as long as you need, for time is on your side tonight. All the feelings you had already hoarded for each other flow between your connected mouths and it's something, you thought you could never have. Everything feels like a dream. But Taeyong is right there, and he holds you, even as you finally pull apart.

"Wow", Taeyong mumbles, his nose still grazing yours, "Yeah, that was all that was missing, I admit it."

You chuckle softly, leaning in a second time, to steal another kiss that he willingly gifts to you, "I want to get used to this."

"Me too." he admits and then his eyebrows shoot up, as he remembers something. The next thing you feel kissing you aren't Taeyong's lips, but something equally soft, "I brought you this. Johnny said, if you want to win someone over you have to bring them something that reminds you of them."

You eye the flower lovingly, as you twirl it between your fingertips, "You talked to Johnny, huh? Traitor."

"Yeah, I owe him a grande Pizza Pepperoni now." Taeyong huffs.

"Good, because I'm definitely in the mood for Pizza." You declare, starting to clean up the coffee shop. He watches you with his well-known, little kitten-smile. Once you locked up the front door, you step back towards him, standing between his legs and pressing your foreheads together, "And I bet it tastes a lot better, if I share it with you."

–*– FIN –*–

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chaoticvisual · 6 years

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I Like Me Better When I’m With You

Kim Seokjin x Min Yoongi College AU!

AN: Hi everyone! This is my first fanfic in a long time so bear with me. I really like the song “I Like Me Better” by Lauv and it always makes me think of Yoongi and Jin. So I hope you guys like it and feel free to leave feedback. I think I’m going to make this into multiple parts. Also my asks are open so feel free to submit fanfic ideas or other one shot prompts! Enjoy!

Living in New York is a challenge all on its own, growing up in New York is a whole other story. Min Yoongi knows this challenge all too well. Growing up in Brooklyn, New York had its ups and downs, but Yoongi loved it all the same. He loved getting to travel to the many other big cities and growing up he loved going to Coney Island every year with his family.

This year was different though.

Since starting college at Brooklyn University, majoring in the performing arts, takes a lot out of his day. Working all day and sometimes all night on homework assignments and his own music doesn’t give him a lot of time for family or friends, hell he barely has time to go to the bathroom let alone go out to the bar with his best friend Namjoon.

Yoongi woke up Saturday morning with the bright glare of the sun peeking in from his studio apartment window. He groaned in irritation and turned over in his bed. He knew he shouldn’t have let Namjoon talk him into going out last night. He should’ve just stayed home and worked on his music, but no he went and got shitfaced and now he feels like shit. You did this to yourself, he thought as he began to get up out of bed. He decided the thing he needed to get his hangover get out of the way was a fresh cup of coffee. Walking out of his room and towards the kitchen, he passed quietly by a passed out Namjoon. He filled the coffee maker with water and went to grab a Keurig cup from the box, when he realized he was out.

“Fuck.” He angrily whispered as to not wake his friend. Good thing the schools coffee shop is across the street, he thought. Tiptoeing back over to his room to change out of last nights clothes and into something more casual and comfy. He threw on some black torn jeans, a white t-shirt, and his favorite red flannel, threw on a black beanie and headed out the door.

The day was nice and there wasn’t too many students out and about since it was 10am on Saturday. After a late night of partying, Yoongi was surprised he was awake. As he walked into the university’s cafe, a little bell went off, signaling his entrance. He was a bit surprised by the amount of people in line to get coffee, there had to be at least 5 people ahead of him and there were plenty more people sitting around tables chatting about last nights parties.

Yoongi got in line behind a short girl who didn’t look like a college student at all. She turned towards Yoongi as he got up behind her, she gave him a small smile but he just continued to stare ahead. As he continued waiting, a tall, blonde male came up in line behind him. Yoongi noticed he was carrying a map and scanning it like his life depended on it. The man noticed Yoongi looking at him and gave him a warm smile, “Hi.”

Yoongi wasn’t much of a people person, so when a stranger says hi to him, he normally would just shrug it off. But there was something about this stranger that Yoongi couldn’t help but notice. He was very handsome, tall, blonde, Yoongi’s type if he was being honest. “Hey.” He replied, a small blush creeping up his neck.

They moved up in the line.

“I’m Kim Seokjin,” the tall man said placing a hand out to Yoongi. He was a little hesitant at first but shook his hand anyway, “Min Yoongi.”

“Nice to meet you. Do you go to school here Yoongi?” Seokjin asked the shorter male. “Umm, yeah. I just finished my first year. You?” Yoongi replied. He couldn’t help but look at the handsome man standing in front of him. I wonder if he likes guys, Yoongi thought, but quickly tried to not get his hopes up. A guy like him probably has women falling all over him 24/7.

“This is my first year, my first day actually. I’m still trying to figure out where I am half of the time.” Seokjin chuckled. “Hey, do you think you could show me around campus?”

Yoongi was finally at the front of the line. “Umm, just one second.” He said to Seokjin. Turning towards the barista he ordered one large black coffee. “Okay, sir that will be $3.25.” She replied writing down his drink on the cup. Yoongi reached for his wallet in his back pocket but didn’t feel it. He began patting the rest of his pockets, until he realized he didn’t grab it when he left the apartment.

“Everything okay?” Seokjin asked. Yoongi sighed, “I forgot my wallet.” He turned around and saw the line didn’t shrink since he’s been in it. “I can get it for you,” Seokjin said. Yoongi looked at him and shook his head, “You don’t have to-”

“In return, you can show me around campus.”

Yoongi just stared at him, who is this guy? Who just buys coffee for a total stranger and then asks that stranger to be his tour guide. “Umm, sure, I guess.”

“Great!” He smiled, “I’ll have a large, sugar free Vanilla Latte with almond milk and no whip cream, please.”

“Alright,” the barista says, “your total today will be $8.75.” Seokjin hands her his card, while Yoongi steps to the side to wait for their drinks. As he walks over, Seokjin follows behind him. “You didn’t have to do that, you know?” Yoongi says to the taller man. “But I wanted to. You seem nice, and I don’t really know a lot of people. So you get a free coffee and a new friend. It’s a win-win.” He says smiling at him.

Yoongi sighs, “You’re something Seokjin.” “You can call me Jin,” he states, “all my friends do.” He gave Yoongi another one of his award winning smiles, “So I was thinking if you can show me...” Jin continued talking about the buildings he wanted to see, but Yoongi just continued watching the taller man. He wasn’t just handsome but he was sweet and kind, much different fro people Yoongi has dated in the past. Yoongi wasn’t sure if he wanted something to come out of this with Jin, whatever this was, but if something were to happen, would it be so bad.

Seokjin finally stopped talking once their orders rang out. He brought the coffee’s back over to Yoongi, who looked more than relived to finally have his coffee. Taking a big sip of his black coffee, he pointed to the map in Jin’s hand, “So where to first?”

#bts ships #kim seokjin #min yoongi #lots of fluff #asks are open #feedback appreciated #college au

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fortunesrevolver · 7 years

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Commission: Hot & Cold (Or Maybe Hot!)

Series: Tales of Symphonia Request: Lloyd and Sheena as baristas. Kratos as the boss man. Shenanigans commence. For: @lloyd-irving This one was a lot of fun to write. =w= I haven’t played Symphonia in a long time, so I was a little paranoid I’d get everyone wrong, but my beta assures me I did well. It was really fun writing Kratos again, but I was surprised to see how nice it was to write Lloyd and Sheena too. A nice throwback to the game that brought me into the Tales fandom.

Thank you very much for the commission, and I hope you enjoy it!

There were many things Lloyd had discovered in life that he liked, and one of them was coffee. It was one of the main reasons he’d leapt at the chance to work at his father’s coffee shop. While he still had the sneaking suspicion part of the reason he’d been offered the position was to keep him out of trouble after the totally-not-his-fault incident involving a children’s chemistry set and his uncle’s not-so-long-now hair, there was coffee. Free coffee. And free coffee was an incredible motivator.

However, as incredible as the motivation of free coffee -- and often times leftover baked goods and sandwiches -- was, sometimes he came just for the clientele. Especially one of the rare and brave few who was willing to talk back to Sheena when she started using what Zelos affectionately called her ‘pre-banshee screech.’

“Look, sir...” Lloyd leaned against the counter and took a sip of his drink, raising an eyebrow as he watched Sheena balance her weight on her palms to go nose-to-nose with a middle-aged businessman. “We don’t have pumpkin spice loaf cake. We’ve got bread and muffins and enough drinks to clog your arteries. So if that’s not what you want, then you’re gonna have to go somewhere else.”

The man, with the bushiest mustache Lloyd had ever seen, didn’t seem to find Sheena’s tone intimidating by any means -- one of the few he’d ever seen. Somehow he’d managed to look haughtier than before as he tapped the counter impatiently and scoffed. “Well then, sweetheart, I suggest you get in back and make some.”

“Uh-oh.” Frowning, Lloyd set his drink aside stood up. Sheena’s eyebrow was beginning to twitch, and that was always the first sign that someone was about to go through a window if they weren’t separated soon. As funny as the thought might be, trying to explain to management why the window was broken (again) would be hard. “Uh, Sheena…”

“Listen here, buddy…”

“Is there a problem, sir?” A hush fell over the coffee shop as a third voice joined the conversation and Lloyd watched as his boss approached the counter, arms crossed and mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the store manager,” Kratos replied, his tone flat and even, an eyebrow raising in a silent gesture for the man to challenge him again. “If there’s a problem here--”

Silence settled over the small group for a second time as the businessman looked Kratos up and down, the irritated red of his face slowly melting away into a panicked pale. “No. No, I… suppose there isn’t. I’ll just have a coffee. Sweetened.”

“Fine. $2.15, and I’m sure Ms. Fujibayashi would be happy to bring that to you once it’s finished.”

The man didn’t linger at the counter any longer than he had to after he paid and quickly scurried away to a table. Once he was sitting down, Kratos made easy work of filling a medium sized cup and offered it to Sheena with a neutral expression. “Salt and sugar have very unfortunate similarities at first glance.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess s--oh.”

“Hmph.”

“...damn, dad.” Lloyd muttered, only to get a soft tap to his forehead and a disapproving stare.

“Language, Lloyden.”

“Aw, come on, don’t--”

“I’ll be in the back if you require my help again.”

As silently as he’d come, Kratos vanished into the back once more. Almost immediately, Sheena dove toward the salt-shaker sitting on the counter at the same time Lloyd grabbed the sugar.

“Sheena!”

“Lloyden.”

“Not you too…” He grimaced and made an attempt to grab the salt. “Come on, we can’t just--”

“Boss’ blessing.” Sheena grinned and danced out of Lloyd’s grasp, giving the salt several hard shakes. “Whoops. Too late.”

“Sheena!” Lloyd gasped, stumbling to the edge of the counter to watch as Sheena approached the formally displeased man with the utmost glee. It would be a lie to say he didn’t want to laugh, but he also didn’t want to get yelled at. Still, they did have a pretty good shield if he tried. Kratos was a force to be reckoned with and as much as Lloyd might have enjoyed pushing his father’s buttons, he knew when to back off. Truly, his father could be terrifying.

“--ahem. Is there anyone at the register?”

“Oh, crap!” Forcing his gaze away from the spectacle about to unfold, Lloyd flew back to the register with a practiced grin. “Welcome to Hot & Cold -- Or Maybe Hot! What can I get for you--oh! Hey, uncle.”

“Lloyd.” Across the counter, Yuan regarded Lloyd with a small frown, his eyebrows -- one still unfortunately thinner than the other -- drawn together and jerked his head behind him. “She looks happy. What happened?”

“Uh, well…” Lloyd’s grin turned sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. “He was a total ass and Sheena was angry, but then dad--”

The rest of Lloyd’s explanation was cut off as the businessman retched, spitting his coffee across the table as he coughed several times, much to Sheena’s poorly veiled delight.

“I’m so sorry, sir! Was it too hot?” She grinned, and Lloyd was vaguely reminded of a tiger he’d seen in his old picture books. Maybe Zelos really was onto something about Sheena.

“T-this is--” The man stopped, his gaze darting nervously toward the back before he began to shake his head rapidly. “Yes--just a tad warm. I’ll… go and fetch myself some creamer then. Excuse me.”

“Oh my god…” Lloyd murmured, ducking behind the counter as he tried to conceal his own laughter, the task only growing harder as Sheena all but sprinted to the back and her guffaw could be heard even through the closed door.

“...I see Kratos got involved in another customer incident,” Yuan sighed. “What was it this time? Too many beans? Not enough beans?”

“S-salt,” Lloyd choked out, dragging his weight up to fumble clumsily with the register. “That guy’s face…”

“Of course it was. I daresay he has enough of it to season the sea.” Yuan snorted and motioned with his hand. “Green tea, same as always.”

“Green tea!” Lloyd chirped back, “Uh, large, two bags, three sugars and, uh…”

“Venti,” Yuan corrected, “I’d expect you would have learned these by now.”

“H-hey, I knew that. I just… I just forgot.”

“Hm… Between you and your father, I sometimes wonder how this place hasn’t had more accidents.”

“Hey…!”

“A pastry.”

“...huh?”

“Three sugars and one of your chocolate pastries. My usual order.”

“Oh, right. Okay, that’ll be--” Lloyd stopped, the proper amount already being held out to him with a sigh. “...it’ll be right out?”

A nod was his only response, and he immediately set back to work as Sheena finally reemerged from the back, wiping her eyes.

“Feeling better?” Lloyd asked as he began to pour hot water into his newest order.

“Oh, much, that was--” Sheena nodded, glancing at the door as the bell rang out again. Her expression faltered and a scowl took place of her once amused grin. “...and there goes the mood.”

“Sheena! Hello there, my beauty. I’ve been thinking about you a latte.”

“Ugh, don’t even start…”

“Aw come on, now. I know you turn me down a lot, I’m just asking for an extra shot today.”

Shuffling over to where Yuan was waiting, Lloyd grabbed a sharpie and scribbled out ‘sry about ur hair, uncl’ on the cup and slid it over with a pastry. His attention fluttered over to the register, where Sheena was flexing her fingers in warning as a mass of red hair Lloyd could only assume was Zelos backed away.

“Hey now, babe, don’t be mad. Can’t you feel what’s brewing between us?”

“If you don’t knock it off with the lines--”

“...charming as always,” Yuan muttered, taking an immediate sip from his hot tea without so much as a flinch. “You’ve learned to stay away from them, I see.”

“The last time I tried to save Zelos, I woke up in the back and dad was having an episode,” Lloyd shuddered. He really didn’t need to repeat that incident. It had been a disaster in at least seven ways. Maybe even twelve.

“...I won’t ask.” Lloyd smiled, lop-sided and grateful, it was probably better that he didn’t. Kratos has only just crushed his habit of fluttering near Lloyd whenever he was on shift with Sheena. It had been an accident, after all. “Good luck, then. It seems like you will need it.”

A cup of coffee obscured his vision before Lloyd could respond and he jumped, turning to meet the eyes of a very irritated Sheena. Her eyebrow was twitching dangerously as she gave the cup a small shake and thrust it into Lloyd’s hands. “Finish his drink before I pour it on his stupid face.”

Lloyd gulped, taking the cup as quickly as he dared to look over the order label. Coffee; extra sugar x3, and creamer for… “Nononever-at-stoptrying-dot-jerk?”

Sheena growled and Lloyd took a step back. The door rang again and he was all too happy for an excuse to dart away. At least dealing with Zelos didn’t usually risk life or limb. Usually.

“You know…” Lloyd began as he finally approached the table and offered Zelos his coffee. “If you keep up those weird names, one day she’s really going to throw you through a window.”

“Bud!” Zelos grinned, waving his hand in an exaggerated hello. “You wouldn’t let her do that to me, would you? We’re best buds! You don’t want to see me in pain.”

“No,” Lloyd admitted, “but I don’t want to be hurt either. I kinda think she’d throw me too if I tried to stop her.”

“...hot,” Zelos hummed, nodding. “Gotta love a hunnie that strong.”

“Uh,” Lloyd shrugged, “I mean, I can turn up the AC. The dial isn’t that hard to turn.”

Zelos choked, staring at Lloyd as if he couldn’t decide if he was purposefully being oblivious or truly missed what he’d meant. “...that’s okay,” Zelos pouted. “One of these days I’m gonna have to drag you out on a proper babe hunt. Then we can--”

“LLOYD!” They both jump as Sheena calls across the cafe and waves him over. “We need more Pum-Spice from the back. Mind helping me out?”

“Looks like we got caught,” Zelos sighed and waved Lloyd off. “Hurry up, before she goes full banshee.”

“...you know, sometimes I think you do it on purpose,” Lloyd shook his head and jogged into the back. Inventory was a mess after a late and overstocked shipment. Finding what he wanted could take a while. “Pumpkin… pumpkin… uhhh...”

“...Lloyd.”

Lloyd jumped, knocking a box down that fell neatly at his feet. “Dad! You scared me!”

“Lloyd.” Kratos repeated, an empty cup clasped in one of his hands. “Would you care to explain this to me?”

“Uh, it’s a cup?” Lloyd asked, slow and careful. It was, indeed, a cup. Maybe Kratos wanted more coffee?

“Very astute,” Kratos replied, holding it out. “This was just returned to me by a customer.”

Lloyd blinked and took the cup. “Uh, do they want a refill?”

“No.”

“Bad coffee?”

“No, Lloyd.”

“Err… salt?”

“...no.”

“So….” Lloyd shrugged, turning it over in his hands. “What’s the probl…”

Written on the side of the cup in his own messy script: Lord of the Tight Pants.

“Um…”

Kratos frowned, the look on his face the one Lloyd always knew was a sign of trouble. “Would you care to explain?”

Lloyd hesitated. There was really only one right answer when his father looked like this and a ‘girly guy with tight pants came in and ordered a fruity drink’ didn’t really seem to be the right answer. But it was the only one he had… and thus the answer he gave.

“Lloyd.” Kratos sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “As much as I want to encourage your… creative spirit, if you could avoid insulting customers, especially important ones, on their beverages, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Seriously?” Lloyd could only stare. The man had come in early that morning with an attitude that was both horrifying and entirely too friendly all at once. His clothes had been tighter than Professor Sage’s classroom rules and blindingly bright in their sheer… whiteness. He’d looked like something that had walked right out of the sixties. Or maybe it was the seventies. History wasn’t Lloyd’s strong point, but the man had looked ridiculous. “But he was…”

“My boss.” Kratos explained evenly, eyes narrowed. “I may be the store manager, but I still have someone I answer to.”

Was that why he’d asked so many weird questions? Or why he’d interrogated Sheena? Oh man, he hadn’t even answered them truthfully. He’d sort of been a troll. And maybe made a small amount of an ass of himself. Crap. “Disco Fever is your boss?”

Kratos’ mouth twitched, a clear sign he was trying not to show laughter, and Lloyd felt himself relax. Good. He hadn’t ruined everything ever. “...yes,” he nodded, “and I would appreciate it if you were to write his proper name down on the cup. No matter how… true those nicknames may be.”

Lloyd flinched, his smile apologetic as he nodded. “Uh, sorry… about that.”

“Write whatever you please on the cups of your friends. But for strangers… behave.”

“...right.”

“Now,” Kratos bent down, scooping up Lloyd’s fallen box to place it in his hands. “The lunch rush is about to start.”

A yelp, followed by a small crash sounded from the front. “Whoa, whoa! Babe!”

“I’ll take care of the back,” he sighed, pushing Lloyd forward. “Just… please make sure they do not break anything important.”

“Calm down! I just asked for a little extra sugar--”

“I’ll show you sugar, pervert…!”

#Commission Fics #Tales of Symphonia #coffeeshop au #Fun with baristas #lloyd-irving #Nao writes stuff

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lolainblue · 7 years

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Presque Vu Chapter 13

T/w: Anxiety/panic attack --- which starts this chapter off, so everything under the cut

Raina couldn't breathe, couldn't move. There was something heavy lying across her, holding her limbs down, pressing on her chest. She fought down the rising panic, trying to kick her legs loose or free her arms. As she tossed her head from side to side she began to orient herself a bit and realized she had been dreaming, that the only thing she was pinned under was her blanket and Jared, who had wrapped himself around her like the kudzu around her grandfather's farm. The panic wouldn't leave though, and she dragged herself out from underneath him, falling on the floor in her effort not to wake him. He merely groaned and rolled over as Raina fled to the bathroom, locking the door and starting the shower to cover the sounds of her sobs. This couldn't be happening again. She didn't think she could fight her way back if the darkness and fear came for her again.

She sat on the bathroom floor clutching her knees, trying to talk herself back down from the proverbial ledge she was on. She focused on controlling her breathing, ignoring the way her limbs were shaking, the nausea, the ringing in her ears and the sick sweat on her skin. After what felt like an eternity her chest began to loosen and the shaking stopped, but she was drained, and she let herself dissolve into a puddle on the cold tile floor.

Raina didn't know what had brought this on. It had been almost a year now since she'd had an attack, and she truly thought she'd left them behind her. The only thing that had changed recently was the addition of her two lovers, and her pathetic little attempts to open up to them. Was she really this constitutionally incapable of any kind of emotional intimacy anymore? Was this all she was? IF came to choosing between anxiety and loneliness, she was going to have to choose loneliness. She couldn't make this trip again.

She stayed in the bath until she had composed herself and the shower was no longer giving off steam. When she went back into the bedroom Jared was more or less as she had left him, rolled to his side but still sleeping, unaware of her little crisis. She watched him for a minute but couldn't bring herself to get back into bed next to him, so instead made her way into the kitchen to start the kettle.

Once she had a mug of tea in her hand, she sat down with the pieces of her presentation that was scheduled for tomorrow. She had taken the day off work to prepare but really there wasn't much left to do but obsess. Maybe it's just the stress of finals, she thought, maybe it's not Jared and Shannon at all.

Still trying to quiet her mind she found a book and settled herself under a quilt on the sofa. She wasn't sure how long she was out there before she drifted off to sleep but the next thing she knew Jared was shaking her arm gently.

“Raina? Are you okay? What are you doing out here? I didn't chase you off did I?” He was standing over her, peering at her with those bright blue eyes as his brow creased in concern. Raina blinked and sat up quickly, her haste sending the book tumbling from her lap and to the floor. Jared scooped it up and handed back to her.

“No, I'm sorry. I have my final presentation due tomorrow and I just came out to go over some things again. Too jittery to sleep properly I suppose,” she lied.

Jared sat down on the sofa next to her. “When do you have to go into work? A decent breakfast would probably help settle your nerves.”

Raina shook her head. “I'm off until Monday so I can finish up with school but I'm too nervous to eat, really. “

Jared sighed. “Look, I know it's not really any of my business but you have to take care of yourself.” He tucked a curl behind one ear and kissed her forehead.

Raina felt the butterflies start their unwelcome migration from her sex to her heart and gritted her teeth. I'm not going to do this, she told herself. I am not going to fall into his arms just because he shows me the smallest kindness. She got up from her seat. “You're right, it's not any of your business,” she told him, her arms folded defensively in front of her.

Jared regarded her from his spot on the sofa and frowned but said nothing. Raina dropped her gaze and shifted from foot to foot but held her silence as well. When she still failed to acknowledge him Jared cleared his throat, got up and went back into the bedroom.

Raina had just finished refolding the quilt when Jared emerged from the bedroom, fully dressed, keys in hand. This wasn't how she had planned for this morning to go but at least if he was leaving she could maybe get her emotions back under control.

“So you're going to be spending the day working on your project I suppose?” he asked. She nodded. Jared bobbed his head in return and let himself out.

Raina let out the breath she had been holding and fell back onto the sofa. She had been so sure when Jared asked her to dinner that night that he was just another shallow pretty boy, out for whatever he could get, and would be gone before the sun came up and she had to endure a vapid conversation. He had turned out to be anything but: charming, interesting, and actually trying to make some sort of connection with her. She had been the slutty, emotionally unavailable one in the end, unable to sort her life to accommodate anything beyond a one night stand. The problem was she liked him more than she cared to admit, not just for what he did to her but for the little glimpses of the actual person that he was that kept peeking through all the bossiness and attitude. And now she had run him off.

She put her tea mug in the sink and went to get dressed. She paused in front of the bathroom mirror longer than was necessary, trying to see herself past the tension in her jaw and the circles under her eyes. No wonder he was concerned. She looked miserable and exhausted, her wee hours panic attack having taken it's toll on her. With a sigh, she turned out the bathroom light and went to make the bed.

Once she had finished tidying the little apartment back up she found her book again and tried to settle down and quiet the thoughts in her head. She was only a few pages in when the doorbell rang. Raina was surprised to have a visitor at this hour. She was even more surprised when she found Jared on the other side of the door, a big smile on his face and hands full of bags and a drink carrier.

“Sorry it took so long,” he said, stepping past her and into the apartment. “I wasn't sure what you actually eat since there was nothing in that kitchen to judge by. So I just got you what I eat. ” He sat everything down on the kitchen counter and started opening bags. After a minute he handed her a Styrofoam container and coffee mug. “Here. That's a tofu scramble and some toast. If you haven't had it before I think you'll be surprised, they're very good. Lots of good veggies in there. Oh, and the cup is just a basic vanilla latte with almond milk. I hope you don't have an allergy, I don't remember you mentioning anything when I took you to dinner.”

Stunned, Raina shook her head and opened the little container. The food smelled amazing and her stomach grumbled at the sight of it. She actually couldn't remember the last time she had eaten. She looked at all the other bags he had carted in with him. “What's all that?”

“Fruit, veggies, some almond milk and coconut water, cereal that isn't 80 percent sugar, you know... food.” He started putting the groceries away while Raina looked on, dumbstruck. Seeing the expression on her face Jared stopped. “What? I told you last night I'd go grocery shopping for you today. If I say I'm going to do something I do it.”

Raina was rapidly figuring that out. “Don't you have an assistant or something that does that for you?”

Jared laughed. “I think I can handle an early morning grocery run and take out on my own, thanks.” He quickly stowed away the produce and other refrigerated items. “I'll let you show me where the rest goes after we eat.”

He grabbed the other Styrofoam container and sat down at the counter next to her. She saw he had the same thing he had ordered for her. Picking up a small forkful Raina gave it a tentative taste. She was surprised how much she liked it, it was very much like scrambled eggs with a ton of vegetables in it. With a smile, she took a bigger bite. Jared smiled back in approval.

“I told you it's good,” he said, quickly devouring his own portion. “Now, tell me about this presentation that has you so stressed out,.”

Raina tried to explain the project was about establishing continuity between web presence and brick and mortar storefronts but ended up having to explain the entire Visual Communications program to him. He seemed genuinely interested though and let her go on through the whole meal and until the coffee was gone. “I'm sorry,” she ended up apologizing, “I've just rambled on and on and you asked me a simple question.”

Jared shook his head. “No, that was the first time I really felt like you talked to me. You're so passionate about what you're doing.” Raina felt the frown slip out before she could stop it. “What? What did I say?” he asked, puzzled.

She was supposed to be reigning her emotions in, not jumping further down this rabbit hole. Quickly she started clearing up their containers. “Nothing. It's not you.” It was the truth anyway. She opened the remaining bag and started putting away the remainder of the groceries.

Jared shook his head. “You are quite the minefield,” he said sadly. Raina didn't acknowledge him, just kept stowing away packages of crackers and rice. She didn't notice him stepping up behind her until he had flattened himself against her back, one hand on her waist, the other closing over her own as she put a box of muesli on the shelf. As soon as she set the box down, he drew her back against him, arms crossed over her chest as he rested he his head on her shoulder. She hated the way she tensed up at the intimate contact but she was becoming increasingly wary of his intentions this morning.

“I have to go. I have things to do today,” he told her, his voice soft against her ear. “My schedule is pretty full for the next few days but would you call or text me after your presentation tomorrow and let me know how it went? Maybe let me know the next time we can get together?”

He wasn't pushing. There was that at least. She turned around and slipped her arms around his neck, allowing herself a moment to enjoy him now that she knew he was going to be giving her the space she was craving. “I will,” she said, pressing her lips to his for a goodbye kiss. He lingered for only a moment before picking his keys back up off the counter.

“Remember that you promised. I don't want to have to explain to you about keeping promises again,” he said with a wink.

Raina smiled. “I will remember. Tomorrow.”

@msroxyblog @nikkitasevoli @fyeahproudglambert @meghan12151977 @snewsome756 @maliciousalishious

#jared leto fanfiction #shannon leto fanfiction #presque vu

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chelseyroseblog · 6 years

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HOW I'M GETTING READY FOR HAWAII IN TWO WEEKS

I just celebrated my birthday HARD for the last week and I'm not mad at it, but I'm also feeling way less in shape than I was a week ago and totally unprepared for Hawaii haha.

BUT not to fear, I know how to get things back together over the course of two weeks and then we can all just pretend that the alcohol, burgers, chocolate, chips, dips, beer, pad thai, cake, ice cream and bread nevvver happened this week. ALLLRIGHHHHT!

I feel like I get asked this a lot though so I wanted to break down everything I'm doing so you guys know exactly how to prep for a vacation.

1. WORKOUTS ARE A PRIORITY

I mean, it is quite literally, CRUNCH TIME. NO EXCUSES. When you have a short time period to get ready to vaca or for an event, you need to schedule your workouts like you schedule your blow drys. Here's what my workout schedule will look like for the next 2 weeks:

WORKOUT GOALS

M - Full Body

T - Upper Body

W - Lower Body

TH - Upper Body

F - Full Body

Sa - Hike/Something Outdoors

Su - Lower Body

One of my biggest areas of focus is my lower body. I want to lift and round out my booty, tone my inner thighs, and tone my hamstrings SO a good rule of thumb when you really want to focus on an area is to get 30-40 total sets per week. WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN. I'll tell ya.

So say on Wednesday I do 3 sets of hip thrusts, then I do 3 sets of back squats and then I do 3 sets of dead lifts...that means I've done 9 sets. So by the end of the week I want to try to hit at least 30. (Again this is for areas that you're REALLY wanting to work on).

If I do that again on Sunday then I will have done 18 sets. This means in order to hit 30 sets, I need to incorporate 12 more sets throughout the week for legs. So I could do this by 3 sets of squats and 3 sets of bulgarians on one full body day, then 6 more sets of lower body exercises on another full body day.

That would put my total sets for lower body at 30 for the week which is wooorrrrkk girl! This is how you'll start getting those results you're looking for.

To give you perspective, a beginner usually gets 18 total sets a week, meaning that they might do 9 sets one day, cardio a few days that week, and then one more strength day with 9 sets for the day. This is not ideal for big changes so just something to keep in mind :)

Another thing to keep in mind when creating your work out plan is to make sure you're hitting each muscle group 2 times a week.

So those are my workouts...Now let's figure out how much I should be eating with those workouts!

CALORIE GOALS:

So if I wanted to maintain my current weight and not work out, then I would have to consume 1,206 calories a day, but since I'll be working out, I can give myself some more calories YAY. (There's a system to figuring this out so if you want this done for yourself - email me at [email protected] and tell me you're interested in the NUTRITIONAL CONSULTATION).

There's a whole number and percentage thing that happens here depending on how often you're working out and how hard the workouts are so for me we will multiply my calories by 1.55, so my daily intake of calories on work out days if I wanted to maintain my weight would be 1,869...

BUT

I want to lose a bit of weight right? So what I would need to do is create a caloric deficit so my calorie goal on work out days would be maybe something like 1,600. This means that by the end of a workout day, I will have burned about 250 more calories that day than I consumed which = WEIGHT LOSS. I think what a lot of people tend to do is work out and then reward themselves with a huge meal so your most likely not in a caloric deficit by the end of the day which is why you're not seeing the results you want! (Don't worry, I did that for a long time too).

MACROS GOAL:

Let's start with protein. If I want to maintain lean muscle that I'm putting on then I want to aim to get my body weight in grams of protein. So I would want to aim for about 130 grams of protein, this means that 520 of my calories would be coming from protein. (There's 4 calories per gram of protein so you just multiply 130 by 4). The cool thing about protein is that when consumed, you burn MORE CALORIES simply by eating it. This is called the thermogenic effect of food. Protein burns roughly 30% of calories consumed so if I eat 520 calories of protein, 156 of those calories will be burned off simply by my body trying to break it down and digest it. WOO!

OKAY - from here I can make my CARB goal intake. I know that a VERY low carb diet is 50 grams a day or less and a LOW CARB diet is 100 grams of protein a day or less. When I'm getting ready for a event or a vacation I like to hover at a "low carb diet". Carbs are made of water so when we eat less carbs we start to lose a lot of water weight and look leaner so it really helps when you don't have a ton of time to get ready for something.

Carbs also have 4 calories per gram so if I want to have 100 grams of carbs a day, then that means that 400 of my calories will come from carbs.

400 calorie in carbs + 520 calories in protein = 920 calories. If I'm shooting for 1,600 calories on a work out day then this means that I have 680 calories left to use innnnn fat..or alch haha, but seriously.

one gram of alch = 7 calories

one gram of fat = 9 calories

So depending on what my day looks like I can play around with these remaining calories.

And that's the lesson on MACROS.

EATING GOALS

Alrighty - now that we know how much I can eat, I'll talk to you guys about WHAT I'll be eating. I can eat the same thing for months which is nice because then I don't have to think that much about cooking, prepping, blah blah blah.

Breakfast 6:30am : 1 piece of medium/large fruit like an apple, pear, or banana or two pieces of small fruit like plums...mainly lol. I'm in love with plumcots right now AND a medium almond milk latte.

Snack 11:00am: This is where I like to get in some protein so I will pretty much always have a ONE BRAND Birthday Protein Bar.

Lunch 2:00pm: Protein bowl. If we have rice in the fridge then I'll add a 1/3 cup of that to the mix with 4 ounces of turkey, 1/4 an avocado, and 2 over medium eggs. Then I top it with some sea salt, goat cheese, and tajin. This is a super easy way for me to get in a lot of protein without feeling stuffed or losing any energy, and it keeps me full for like 4-5 hours.

Snack 5:00pm: This is usually a point in the day that I'm on my way to work and I'm not super hungry but I need to get in more protein and I never know when I'm going to be able to break at work so I like to go in without any vibes of feeling hungry SO i'll do a cold brew with a scoop of protein powder and almond milk or I'll do a ONE BRAND birthday protein bar if I didn't have on earlier in the day. If I don't have to go to work then I skip this snack and just have dinner when I get hungry.

Dinner 7:00 - 8:30ish: Nothing big. I'll usually have turkey with vegetables and 1/3 cup of carbs whether it's sweet potato, brown rice, pasta etc. Although since I'm keeping my carbs between 50 and 100 for the day it really just depends on what I've had already.

SLEEPING GOALS

It's impossible to look and feel good without proper sleep and with my stupid ass schedule, sleep can be really hard sometimes. But I've gotten better at setting myself up for the best sleep possible and making sure that I take a nap the next day if I feel like I need one instead of trying to power through.

When we're on minimal sleep, we LOOK it and our stress levels typically go up and we end up getting sugar cravings so sleep is meggaaa babe important.

So to get the best sleep I'm going to make sure that I de stress before going to bed. I work at a lounge until midnight so when I come home from there I need to make sure that I try to relax and unwind before getting in bed or else I feel a little stressed in the morning still because it's like I didn't give myself a break.

I also spray aromatherapy around me when I get home because it just helps with the relaxation aspect of the night and then I make sure that I do my face routine with all my favorite skin care products.

An eye mask is essential for sleep as well and my phone always goes on the ground on airplane mode. Rest up bitches.

FINAL DO'S AND DONT'S

Do:

+ Drink a lot of water throughout the day

+ Have a celery juice for breakfast a few times to help reduce bloat

+ Drink a detox tea before bed 4-5 nights a week (I like slim master from Ralph's. Super Cheap)

+ Do hit up a sauna and get a colonic if you have time (MAJJJOOORRR)

Don't:

+ Drink if possible. If you do, go for 1 glass of wine or 1 clear liquor on the rocks. Try to avoid super sweet cocktails and beers FOR SURE.

+ STRESS. This is so counter productive to what you're trying to do. Stressing will make you hang on to weight and crave sweets.

ANYYYWAAAYY I hope you guys found this helpful! I am officially on day one of the count down and made sure to hit the gym this morning, had an apple and a coffee for breakfast, had a turkey bowl for lunch, a ONE bar as a snack and right after this I'll be going on a hike before I figure out what I'm making for dinner!

Thank you guys so much for popping in to read this. Comment below if you have any other tips, suggestions, or questions!

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originaldetectivesheep · 6 years

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Tales of the Missing 9 - I Never Thought It Would Happen To Me

Of all the marks in the world, there's no one easier to deceive than he who is sure he isn't deceiving himself.

I Never Thought It Would Happen To Me

Say, do you remember the old Penthouse Forum? Oh, after you were about fifteen, you never took it serious that those were actual letters – these stories that people would write up, about sex they never had with the babysitter, with the wife from next door, the lady boss pulling a contractor into her office. It was all made up – it had to be, because like they always said right at the beginning, you couldn't think that anything like this could ever happen to you, not in real life. I know – when mine did, I definitely never thought it'd happen to me.

I don't go in for that castles-in-the-air stuff; when Vicki left, after the kids were all through with college and out on their own, I didn't contest it – really, it'd been coming for a while – and I didn't go out and buy myself a Firebird and hair plugs and a sugar-baby girlfriend with implants. I'm just a regular guy: I know who I am and I like who I am, and I live my own life, not a Viagra commercial's. I date now and then, since the divorce, and yeah, there are sometime pay "dates" – a guy's got needs – but all of that's on the level. I'm me. I'm an old guy. I'm not fooling anyone, least of all myself, that I'm a hot number who's going to be getting all kinds of young honeys wet and horny. But, I mean, I'm still alive – so you can't fault me for responding when they do.

Being single and retired means I have a lot of time for hobbies, and one of my favorite hobbies is going out and browsing around at antique and second-hand places all over New England: there's a lot of them, and there's always something different, and you see a lot of really beautiful countryside in these little town that no one goes to any more – and, truth told, there's more than a few single older ladies who're shopping for more than another Shaker chair, if you catch my drift. It's a little bit of adventure that I can do whenever I feel like it for the price of a tank of gas – something new, something interesting, to keep me going.

This particular time was a little shop down by the water in Newburyport; I love these old seaside towns, that've been everything two and three times around in three or four hundred years. You never know what you're going to find: little twisting streets of old wood-shingled houses that've been around since the days of sailing ships, or a nice wide new promenade along the old waterfront. And the antique shops are just as varied; you get a lot of people coming through, tourists, you know, who want to take a little bit of old New England home with them, so nothing sits. There's competition, a lot of competition, but if you're in the right place at the right time, you can find something amazing.

As soon as I saw it, I knew that I had to have it. If I hadn't seen the original in the Tate years and years ago, I'd've been fooled – but you don't get museum-quality English landscape artists in little Massachusetts antique shops, no matter how hard you hope. I like these paintings – I love the peaceful stillness of these landscapes before industry took over everything, and you can make a penny or two flipping them to the right people – and I've made a study of them; this was as good a copy of a J. W. Allen as I'd ever found. I lifted the frame up out of the floor rack, holding it up to check all around for any dings or cuts in the canvas – the frame didn't matter, I could always have it reframed – and turned it to carry up to the counter. This would be it for today; I like to think I'm a sharp bargainer, but I could tell that I wasn't getting out of this deal for less than three figures.

The old lady running the shop (old? bet she thought she had an old man giving her a hard time about this painting) was a sharp bargainer, too, and it was all I could do to get her down to a hundred fifty. As I was counting out the bills from my wallet, I heard a voice over my shoulder – a voice of silver bells and cinnamon spice.

"That's a wonderful painting," she said. "It can't be a Gainsborough? The color balance is just wonderful, but those clouds aren't rough enough for the likes of a Constable."

"Neither," I said, turning around with a smile, "unless I've gone and got senile, I think it's a very good copy of an Allen – Joseph William, a piece that's probably in a vault over at the Tate right now. You're also a connoisseur?"

"I try to keep up," she said, eyelashes fluttering as she came forward, next to me, tracing a hand along the knobs and scallops of the frame. "And yes, you're right, of course – this is an Allen, this light flowing touch blending the clouds into the sunset and the way the trees suggest the heavens." She looked up, straight into my eyes, smiling. "If I didn't know better, I might think it could be the original itself – but one doesn't find miracles like that, even in Newburyport."

Looking at her, I wasn't so sure about that, but by god I wasn't going to say anything. Her classic long, straight black hair set off her flawless porcelain skin perfectly, and her dark brown almond eyes seemed to hold all the secrets of the ages. And those curves – nothing vulgar, but she certainly hadn't grown up on rice and fish heads, no sir. She might be thirty, or she might be fifty – too young for me by a piece but in any case mature, elegant, refined, everything about her face and figure exactly in keeping with her cultured British accent. She was a miracle – an absolute unvarnished miracle.

"No," I said, "I shouldn't hope to have that kind of luck. But it's always good to meet another of the – cognoscenti; someone who can understand and appreciate a passion for this kind of art. I'm John; very pleased to make your acquaintance, Ms –"

"Therese," she said, taking the tips of my fingers on the fold of her hand, like a Regency belle accepting a dance, "likewise. It is so good to meet a fellow admirer of the arts; you collect?"

"A little," I said, "but mostly it's the thrill of the chase. I don't quite have a great room with a picture gallery wrapped around the side, so frequently, when I can find a buyer for a piece, I'll sell it on – I hate the idea of pictures like these just rotting in someone's basement or their bank vault. Some, though," – I nodded at the after-Allen still lying on the counter – "are just so perfect that I'd have quite a hard time letting go."

"Quite," Therese said, settling a hand on her hip as if she meant to thrust her bust that much further forward. "Then, even a picture as wonderful as this – if the right offer came in, you might consider selling?"

"I might," I said, blinking, half-conscious of the frown on the shopkeeper's face as it started to sound like a secondary deal for a lot more money was about to develop right on her own countertop, "but I'd have to think long and hard about any offer, Therese; this is an amazing piece, and I've only just come into it today."

"Then all the more reason," she said, with a click of her heel on the floor, "since you've barely known it and can't be so invested for sentimental reasons. I shall be curt: John, will you sell? I know I'm being frightfully forward, but I have a deep interest in this painting, and I'm sure that I shall be able to meet any terms you choose to set." Therese cocked her head to the side, her bold imperious look gone suddenly sultry, and she lacked only the riding crop and jodhpurs to be the dominatrix of any man's dreams. I couldn't help taking a sudden breath – you couldn't, she just struck you like that – but I wouldn't be mastered quite so easily.

"I can understand that, I think," I started, "since the original of this made a great impression on me when I was younger, and I can claim that kind of sentimental attachment, too. But I'm still, I think, disinclined to sell, especially as a private deal in someone else's shop – which you've got to agree isn't really the done thing." I nicked my head at the proprietress, and Therese nodded slowly; I could feel the shopkeeper's mood softening – with luck, I'd be allowed back in this place sometime. "I don't mind, though, continuing this conversation elsewhere," I said, taking a chance on her eyes and the shadow of a look somewhere back in them. "Might I interest you in a cup of coffee, while we talk further about our interests in this piece? I'm sure that we can come to a mutually agreeable understanding."

Therese immediately smiled, bright and wide, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't caught a little off guard, with how easily she accepted me. "Of course! Certainly. And madam, please ring these through at list – my sincerest apologies for any disruption we've caused." She handed the shopkeeper a small sheaf of watercolors, but even paying the sticker price for them wasn't enough that I didn't feel eyes like knives in my back as Therese slipped her arm through mine going out the door.

We walked like that, arm in arm, around the corner and along to the parking lot where I'd left my car, settling the Allen copy into the back seat, and then on across the lot over to the Cosi. The streets down there are cobbled, but I didn't feel it – like I was floating on air, a foot up over the curbs and paving stones. She made a show of flashing, fluttering eyes and tracing fingers as the barista put our orders together, and I of course gallantly paid it all. Two bowl-full lattes lovingly worked together, hearts and vines floating in the foaming milk, were nothing next to what I had with Therese by my side – what she seemed to be signalling I might have with her or from her in the right conditions.

Therese sat down across the small, square table with just the hint of a wiggle, and slowly lifted her cup, eyes closed, savoring the aroma before taking her first sip. "Wonderful," she said, "marvelous. Thank you, John – thank you for everything."

"Oh, it's not that much," I said, feeling a little self-conscious if she was going to push this hard, somewhere this public. "I ought to be apologizing to you, even – that I'm taking your time now, and that I got in on the Allen ahead of you."

"Oh, no, John, never," Therese said, setting down her cup and sliding her hand around the outside of mine. "To find that Allen copy, and then meet a fellow-soul, and to share more time with you, and, perhaps a chance of the Allen again; today has been just marvelous. I'm so glad that I've met you. Won't you tell me, please, of how you came to make a connection with that painting?"

"I'm afraid there's not much to tell," I said, wondering how conscious I ought to be of her slim soft hand, her fingers still tracing over my wrist, "just an old story about an American boy abroad who's not nearly as worldly-wise as he thinks he is. I was in London in, well, the Swinging Sixties, mod suit and all, and of course I wouldn't duck into the stuffy old Tate, even to get out of the rain – double, that I wouldn't manage to get lost inside. But, of course, I did – and because I didn't want to look like I didn't know what I was doing, I wandered and wandered up and down the halls.

"Going along, of course, I couldn't help but look, and in the presence of art, really great art, you can't just pass on by." I gestured off-handedly with my other hand, and moved my thumb on the one she was holding, brushing along the outside of hers with an electric thrill. "I started to not just walk, but see: and I followed what appealed to me, and I found myself at last in a corner, quiet, unbothered, only myself and a wall of Gainsboroughs, this Allen and a few others.

"It was strange – the paintings drew me in, in and on to a time and an England that was lost, and I'd never see. I can remember so clearly thinking that: these tranquil landscapes were now all swallowed up in noise and machinery, and though the little peasants and countrymen at the borders might have lived hard lives, short lives, they were their own lives, free, never a slave to anybody's time-clock. And in my mod suit I yearned for it – a way to get away from this mile-a-minute world and find peace, real peace, in some bit of country that hadn't been totally spoiled.

"It didn't work out that way, of course," I said with a half-smile, settling my other hand onto my coffee cup. "I came back to the States and went right into a corporation, raced the other rats up to management and lived my expected suburban life with a wife on pills and the standard issue 2.5 children who only call on my birthday to make sure they're still in the will, but I never forgot it. No, I never forgot it." I shook my head. "And when I was retired and the kids were out of school and there wasn't any reason to play the game any more, and I was single and free again, I remembered. I like other art, and I buy other art, but what I go around to these places for, in the end, is to find something like this piece – one of those old English landscapes, and remember all over again that feeling of tremendous peace."

Therese wrapped both hands around one of mine, lifting it up over my cup, tears almost standing in her eyes. "Oh, John, that is marvelous – simply perfect – it must be fate that's brought us here like this. It's so like my own story – my own reasons that I'm drawn to this piece." She squeezed tight, smiling with the true love-light, and then slowly drew back, folding her hands before her own coffee.

"You might or might not have noticed, but I'm mixed – Chinese and English; I was born in the old Hong Kong colony. My father was an Englishman, poor gentry – the sort with a name that goes back to the Conqueror, tailor's bills years overdue, and a little country house somewhere taken over by the National Trust. He loved Hong Kong, and he loved my mother, but I could see that he loved England, too, and though his family had been one of those Anglo-wherevers in the Army or the Foreign Service since time out of mind, he longed to return to England, the green country England of his childhood, to stay. He used to tell me stories – doubtless ones that he'd heard as a boy, passed second and third hand from the days when his people could afford to keep their house – of fishing in little shining streams beneath a canopy of willows; of long walks across waving amber fields on long summer days, climbing stiles and resting in the shadow of a woodlot-copse, the sky as clear and blue, the clouds as clean and as daintily-swept as in any Gainsborough. He had books of these pictures – the landscapes of that old England – and that became England for me, in the banyans and neon and concrete of Hong Kong.

"Of course, when the colony was handed over to China, there was no need for colonial administrators; we moved back – and yes, strangely, it was 'back' – to England, and settled near Birmingham. Have you been to Birmingham?" I shook my head. "You've heard, though, that it's much better than it was – that's nearly all one ever hears of Birmingham, how it's much better than it used to be, and it is, but if Birmingham is no longer a city of steel mills and Black Sabbath, it's still definitely not that England. And I looked, as I grew, for those places my father loved so dearly, and even in the Lakes and the Peaks, still couldn't find them. They were entirely gone away, and what remained was different, lesser; I thought, when I first came to America for my work, that in this larger country there might still be places like that, country lanes and green fields where the sense of time, of hurry, might be less, but it's not the same. Even here in New England, in the little towns so close to the old, it's not quite the same: and so I have to look for my England in pictures – the same place, really, in the end from which it came." Therese leaned forward and sighed.

"And this Allen, to this feeling, is really just perfect – but for you, it must be perfect as well, and I couldn't be so selfish as to ask it of you again." She smiled, a deep and gentle smile. "It's enough to have met you – to talk like this and to get to know you. If I might venture a liberty, I should ask that you keep the picture – and think of me when you look at it."

I returned the smile, reaching out a hand to fold over hers. "Therese, that will be the easiest thing in the world. I wouldn't dream of selling this painting, now that it's led me to someone like you, like this – and I don't think I'll ever be able to look at it without seeing you looking back; your eyes, your smile. Even if we part from here, and I never see you again, I don't think I'd ever be able to forget you."

Therese fluttered her eyelashes suggestively. "I do hope there won't be any need for that," she said. "I do hope that I might be able to see you again – and your collection. And certainly, there are… things of mine that I'd like to show you in return. For this beautiful Allen today."

I nodded, throat dry. "Yes," I managed at last, "I'd like that very much." I lifted my coffee for a steadying sip, the bitterness jangling harder than I expected against my jumping nerves, still looking deep into her eyes.

We left the cafe not less than an hour later, arm in arm again, an hour spent with our hands wrapped around each other's like schoolchildren that packed more passion in, I'm sure, than I'd had at once since Vicki and I were just married, before the kids were born. I was flying high, high like a Woodstock's worth of designer endorphins all the way back to the car, where Therese turned me, slipping a napkin with her number into my shirt pocket, and then reaching up to pull me down to her lips.

I could have died in that second and gone to heaven with an empty heart. Her kiss was wonderful, perfect, ideal, exactly as it should be for a great and deep love discovered in a day and promising, insinuating, so many other, deeper, stronger, more passionate things beyond. It was a kiss goodbye, but it was a beginning: this was a first kiss, not a last kiss, and the kisses we would exchange, the love that we'd make, in the time to come would make this kiss nothing but a kid's peck on the cheek. I gave up and lost myself in her as she gave herself to me – barely noticed as she pulled away, still tingling on my lips, her dark eyes still staring straight down into my soul, and left with a smile and a last squeeze of my hands. I opened the door and got into the car, barely conscious, and remember reaching down for the shifter, thinking about what a pickle I'd be in if I got stopped by a cop, and if there was a charge for DWI, Driving While Infatuated.

When I woke up, though, it was dark out, and I had cottonmouth and a stabbing pain in my temple. I looked around, around me in the car, and missed the frame of the painting in the back seat. I immediately stood up and got out, swaying, and opened the back door to see what had happened – if there was any trace of where it'd gone.

The painting was there: cut out of the frame and rolled up neatly on the back seat. If it was her, then maybe some of her story was real, and she knew how important it'd be for me to have it. The frame was broken apart and smashed in pieces: by the shadows of the dome light, I saw that one of the wooden rails was broken in the middle, cracked and fractured around a hole, about the size of the end of my thumb, bored into the back side, under where the canvas had been tacked. Whatever had been in that hole – a film canister, an ampule of something, some other ball of secrets that "Therese" was willing to go to such lengths to get her hands on – was gone, and so was she: all I had was the memory, a bright memory blotchy where the binary drug she'd put me out with – half in the coffee and half in her lipstick – was melting it away. The memory – and the Allen copy – and the story. And what a story! You read these things, in Soldier of Fortune or in the James-Bond fanclub press, but you never think that something like this would ever actually happen to me.

further Tales of the Missing ...

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