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myearts-uwu · 3 years

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Bakery AU!

Pairing: Claude x Felix

Featured characters: Claude, Athanasia, Felix, Lily (at the very end of it)

Genre: Fluff. Just... it’s pure fluff in here.

This was supposed to be a single one-shot but I somehow decided to turn it into a short fic that has... two or three parts?

It’s just an adorable AU!

"York's Bakery...," Claude read out the sign displayed above the front door of the cozy-looking bakery. He hummed in disinterest. He was not exactly a huge fan of going out to buy bread or random pastries at a random bakery, let alone a bakery that had been opened for less than three months.

However, since his daughter was the one who asked if they could visit this new bakery together one day during the weekend, he had no choice but to say yes to her favour. It warmed his cold heart when her eyes lit up before smiling at him after he said that.

Why must he be such a softie for his daughter?

"Waa..."

Upon hearing the shaky breath of awe, Claude looked down and noticed the seven-year-old girl staring at the bakery with awe. Her small and chubby hand was holding onto the pinky finger of his left hand loosely.

"You seem to be excited to come here, Athanasia," he commented nonchalantly with a stoic face. He was not the best at showing his true emotions. However, his daughter knew that he was being entertained by her. "I still don't know how you've heard about this bakery, though."

Athanasia just giggled. "Oh, I always see it every day when the driver drives me to school, papa!" she answered. Of course, he wouldn't know about that small fact considering that he had never personally driven her to school. As the CEO of Obelia's Enterprises, he had to go to his office early in the morning. "And since the driver has been to this bakery before, he told me that this bakery's pastries are to die for! Es... Especially the chocolate muffins!" she exclaimed.

"Hm, I see...," Claude mumbled before ruffling Athanasia's soft blonde hair. Compared to the colour of his hair which was a more golden colour, her's leaned more on the lighter side. "Well, let's see if what Mister Han said is true and the pastries here are indeed 'to die for'. Let's go, Athanasia. We don't want to keep standing here, do we?"

Athanasia nodded and skipped towards the front door, tugging her father by his hand. Some random passersby noticed the father-daughter duo and either smiled or chuckled at the adorable scene in front of them.

Claude was about to push the door open but his own daughter had beaten him to it. She had let go of the blond's hand for a few seconds just so she could both of her hands around the door handle. As soon as she pushed the front door open, there was the sound of a small bell ringing.

Ding!

"Welcome to York's Bakery!"

The person standing behind the counter greeted the two newcomers with enthusiasm. Claude stole a small glance at the worker and the only thing he took note of was the messy bright red hair. As well as that large grin on his face that could make anyone's heart melt.

Besides that? He didn't look all that interesting to him.

All he could give the man was a curt nod for he was not someone who enjoyed talking to people.

"Hello!" Unlike him, Athanasia was a total ball of sunshine. She smiled back at the worker and waved at him. The man just chuckled and waved back.

"Why, Hello there, young lady," the man behind the counter said. "How may I help you on this wonderful afternoon?"

Claude gave the man a warning glance and he immediately tensed up. A sign for him to not act so close around the little girl. Times like these made Claude grateful that he had a natural resting bitch face. After that, he acted as if nothing had happened and picked up a tray to put the baked goods he planned on getting on.

Besides the one worker available in the bakery, Claude noticed upon entering the building the strong aromatic scent of freshly baked bread. It tingled his nose slightly due to how heavenly the smell inside the bakery was.

"Uhh... I heard that the chocolate muffins here are to die for! And I wanted to try one!" Athanasia told the man. She walked towards the front counter and pressed her face against the glass of the display case. "Whoa... you have a lot of delicious-looking desserts here."

"Hmm... they do cater a lot of baked goods here," Claude mumbled to himself as he picked out random bread he and his daughter would eat as light snacks. Sausage rolls, croissants, baguettes, buns, egg tarts, cookies... They were really selling a wide variety of baked goods. He grabbed the pair of tongs and started to do his own business.

The worker laughed at Athanasia's adorableness. "They're all freshly made, you know? Well, except for the cakes since we usually have them chilling in the refrigerator overnight." He looked around before winking at her. "But that's a secret between us, alright?" he said in a whisper.

'Someone seems to like that counter worker,' Claude thought when he heard his daughter laughing out loud. He stood in front of a tall basket made from rattan that had baguettes in it. 'Hmm... Athanasia would most definitely eat an entire long baguette as a snack in one sitting... I'm just going to get it for her.'

"You're funny, Mister!" Athanasia exclaimed while taking her hand out towards him. "My name is Athy and that grumpy man who's picking out the baked goods there is my papa!"

"... Grumpy?" Claude turned around and looked absolutely offended by how Athanasia introduced him to a random stranger. Him? Grumpy? Sure, he was not a huge fan of social interaction but that did not mean that he was entirely grumpy.

It only made him even more annoyed when the guy was laughing with her.

"Now, Miss Athy. It's rude to call your own father grumpy," he told her before gently holding her small hand to shake it. "My name is Felix, by the way. If you were wondering about my name, that is."

"Oh, I already knew what your name is," she said before pointing on the nametag that was pinned to the beige apron Felix wore. "It's written on that nametag thingy."

"... Oh, I actually forgot that I had my nametag on me," Felix stated in slight embarrassment. He scratched the back of his head. "You have good eyes, Miss Athy."

"Athanasia."

The girl turned around to look at her father. "Yes, papa?"

"Have you picked out everything you want yet?" Claude asked while smirking. After placing the tongs in their original place, he put his free hand on his waist. "You don't want to return home without those muffins and cupcakes and cookies you were talking about before coming here now, do you?"

"Eh?! But papa, there's just so many things that I wanna try here!" Athanasia cried out. Her eyes darted around the baked goods inside the display case. "Ahh, I really wanna try those chocolate muffins... but the chocolate chip cookies look so good... Oh, but... but look at those macarons! And- And those chocolate bars with dried up fruits..."

Felix looked down at the indecisive girl and looked up at Claude. He laughed weakly. "I assume that your daughter has a strong liking to chocolate?" he asked.

"She's addicted actually," Claude answered before placing the tray on the front counter. He was going to have to pay for all these twice if Athanasia was still deciding on what she should get. "She actually had one of her teeth pulled out at the dentist last year because of a bad cavity. She kept denying that her tooth wasn't aching... but she always teared up whenever she ate anything."

Felix snorted while Athanasia looked at her father as if he had betrayed her. Which, in a way, he did.

"Papa, you promised you won't talk about that to anyone," Athanasia whined with a cute pout. She humphed. "I'm not going to talk to papa anymore!"

"Is that so?" With a calm expression on his face, Claude pulled out his wallet. "Well, good luck paying for all those desserts, then."

"Papa!" she whined again, earning more laughter from the man behind the counter.

He may not look it, but Claude knew how to be humourous... occasionally.

"M-My, you two are quite a hilarious duo," Felix commented while wiping away a tear from laughing too much. He went to the cash register to collect the blond's payment. The girl would eventually tell them what she wanted soon enough.

Claude looked around the bakery while Felix placed the baked goods he paid for into a large paper bag. "Are you the only one working here?" he asked, trying to make some light conversation even though he was not the best when it came to starting one.

"Oh, heaven's no. I'm way too inexperienced to be left working at a bakery all alone," Felix answered with a smile. "There are more people working here, believe it or not. The owner of the bakery, Lilian, is usually working behind the scenes in the kitchen. The same goes for the other ladies working here. Since I'm not that good at baking anything, I'm in charge of the front counter. Greeting customers, making sure everyone is content with the bakery's atmosphere, making sure no one steals anything from here... the usual stuff."

Felix was indeed a talker.

"... Uh-huh," was Claude's awkward response.

"Mister Felix! Mister Felix!" Athanasia called out.

Felix and Claude looked at the little girl. "Hm? Found something you like, Miss Athy?"

"... Can I get a chocolate muffin and those chocolate chip cookies? They look really tasty?"

"Of course. Oh, one moment, Sir."

"Take your time."

Claude looked at Felix who knelt down to grab a muffin as well as scooping out the cookies before putting them in separate smaller paper bags. When Athanasia approached him, he petted her head. "I thought you'd buy the whole bakery because of how indecisive you are when it comes to food."

"But papa, if I do that, then what will they sell afterwards? I don't wanna ruin their business!" Athanasia grinned innocently.

"... Well, isn't that nice of you?" Claude responded sarcastically.

Felix couldn't help but chuckle at them. "Here're your cookies and muffin, Miss," he said as he leaned forward to give the small bags to the girl after calculating the whole price of everything with the cash register.

"Yay!" Athanasia snatched the paper bags from Felix's hand. She immediately opened the bag with the cookies and pulled one out before munching on it.

Claude sighed. "Athanasia, can't you just wait for a few more minutes?" he asked her sternly. "At least eat the cookies once I'm done paying for everything."

"But... But papa. These cookies are amazing!" Her jewel blue eyes sparkled. There were a few cookie crumbs on her lips and her chubby cheeks were puffed out after eating more of the tasty snack.

Claude's shoulders dropped. "Athanasia... You're dirtying the floor with those cookie crumbs."

Felix had to stifle his own laughter. "That's okay, Sir. I can clean that up afterwards. Besides, your daughter here is obviously enjoying those cookies immensely, right Miss Athy?"

"Mhm!" Athanasia nodded her head, mouth still full with cookies inside.

Well, it was painfully clear to Claude that this worker was already smitten with his daughter... Which he couldn't really blame him for that. Even he had to admit that his daughter was a complete natural at manipulating people with her cute looks and personality.

Claude sighed and was preparing to pull out his money. "How much does everything cost... Felix?"

"That will be... exactly 13000 won."

Claude widened his eyes slightly. "... That's a pretty low price for this much we're getting," he muttered. "Especially for how high-quality everything looks."

Felix thought he had misheard something. "Low price? I... don't mean to be rude but that is a pretty high price. Not to mention that you're buying this many baked goods at once..."

"Papa could have bought everything inside this bakery if he wants to!" Athanasia chimed in. "Because papa is a big boss at a big company! A CEO!"

... Claude had to make a mental note for himself to remind him to teach Athanasia that she should not give out random personal information about either of them to strangers once they return home.

He was expecting Felix to pry more information about him being a CEO out of either him or Athanasia.

But instead, he just acted as if he didn't hear anything.

"Well, even if your father is a CEO of a large company, if he's able to sell out the entire bakery, I'm sure my boss would pass out from shock," Felix joked before pushing the large paper bag with everything Claude bought inside. "Funny story, she actually did end up passing up from shock after we were given our first ever large cake order for a wealthy child's birthday party."

"Well, I sincerely hope she won't end up passing out if more people end up ordering cakes and other pastries from this bakery," Claude responded. "She might have to go to a hospital if that happens a lot."

... Was that supposed to be a joke or something?

Claude cleared his throat from how awkward he suddenly felt and looked down at his wallet to pull out the exact amount of money he needed to pay for everything. "I'm... not that good when it comes to making jokes," he admitted.

"... Oh, that was a joke?" Felix asked.

Athanasia shook her head in disapproval. "Papa, you're terrible at making jokes. This is why people either think you're a serious grumpy man or a socially awkward man."

'When and where did she learn to be so sassy to her own father?' Claude wondered, trying to act calm.

"... Here's the money." He tried to ignore the quiet stare from Athanasia and gave the money to Felix. When he looked at him did he realise that this was the first time they made proper eye contact with each other.

For the first time since coming here, Jewel blue eyes met up with warm grey ones face to face.

Felix froze up all of a sudden, confusing Claude. He tilted his head. "Felix, are you alright?"

A few seconds later, Felix blinked multiple times before realising that he was still at work. There was a faint blush on his face and he smiled nervously. "A-Ah! My apologies," he apologised as he accepted the money. "I was... genuinely stunned at your eyes. I'm sorry if that sounds weird."

Ah, his eyes. It was considered a rare condition and the only people who had it were people in his family. The jewel blue eyes were always associated with the people within the Obelia family. His ancestors, his father, his older brother, his niece, his daughter...

Basically, they all had jewel blue eyes. The reason why? No one had any idea.

"It's alright," Claude reassured Felix. "I'm used to people being surprised by my eye colour."

"Oh, I see... Well...," Felix's words trailed off before putting the money inside the cash register. He then gave him the receipt with a warm smile. "Well, I just thought that your eyes remind me of sapphires somehow. It's nice."

"... Okay then?"

Well, this was a bit awkward.

"Papa, papa!"

"Hm?" After noticing the hem of his shirt being tugged down, Claude looked down and saw his daughter holding out a singular chocolate cookie in front of him. "... Athanasia, you know that I don't like desserts."

"But you might like it! You never know if you hate it unless you try it, papa," Athanasia told him in an as-a-matter-of-fact voice. That sort of statement sounded really weird when it's coming from a seven-year-old child. "The cookies are so delicious! Please, papa? Just one..."

Claude stared at her blankly before looking at Felix who shrugged his shoulders.

'... At least be glad that there are no customers inside other than us,' he thought begrudgingly before going down on one knee so he could be at the same eye level as Athanasia. He opened his mouth and his daughter happily fed him the single cookie. He then stood up and slowly munched on the sickeningly sweet and crunchy snack.

...

"It tastes... alright, I guess," Claude mumbled, his voice slightly muffled by the cookie in his mouth.

"See? What did I tell you? I knew you'd like it!" Athanasia said proudly with her arms folded across her chest.

Felix smiled at the girl's energetic demeanour. It seemed to Claude that he was wondering how such a small ball of energy came from someone who looked like he'd rather stay at home all day.

"Your relationship with your daughter is adorable, sir," Felix commented.

"It's Claude."

"Pardon?"

"My name. What? Since you did give my daughter your name and my daughter gave hers to you, might as well join in to not feel so left out, right?"

"O-Oh... Mister Claude?" Felix tried to say his name.

"Just drop the 'Mister'. Judging by your appearance, I wouldn't be surprised if we're around the same age," Claude told him.

"... As you wish... Claude... Ah, I'm sorry but it does feel a bit embarrassing for me to call you so casually like that when this is our first time meeting, haha!"

'... Hm. That's weird," Claude thought while he silently stared at the red-haired man who was running his fingers through his hair. For a moment he thought his heart skipped a beat. It was most likely his own mind playing tricks on him.

"If that's the case, then feel free to add in 'Sir' before saying my name," Claude said casually. He looked at his wristwatch and knew that it was time for him and Athanasia to leave this bakery. Annoyingly for him, his older brother Anastacius and his daughter Jennette were coming over soon in the evening and he had to... mentally prepare himself in order to deal with his brother.

"Well, Felix. We'll be taking our leave for today," he said before calling out Athanasia who was looking at the desserts in the display case. "Athanasia, it's time to go. Remember, your cousin is coming over."

"Okay!" Athanasia exclaimed before rushing towards him. She almost tripped but fortunately, she managed to grab Claude's shirt in time to prevent herself from falling. Giggling, she turned around and waved at Felix. "Goodbye, Mister Felix! It was nice talking to you!"

"Bye-bye, Miss Athy." Felix waved back.

Claude pulled the front door open and was about to leave the bakery but he stopped in his tracks when he heard Felix calling him.

"Sir Claude?"

"Hm?"

Claude turned his head around and looked at Felix with a surprised expression when he smiled warmly at him. A smile that would make anyone feel comforted just by looking at it.

"I hope you have a wonderful day. And please come again!" Felix said. It was something he'd say to every single customer who'd leave the bakery.

But there was something about the way he said that made it sound like he was actually looking forward to seeing Claude again.

And for some reason, Claude felt a bit... flattered by that.

"... Of course," was all he could say before leaving the bakery with his daughter. After the door closed behind them, the father-daughter made their way to his Mercedes-Benz.

The trip to the car was quiet. Athanasia was happily munching on her chocolate muffin while Claude was deep in thought about something.

"... I suppose we can make time to visit the bakery from time to time every Saturday...," Claude mumbled, still deep in thought. 'That Felix guy is quite an amusing fellow to be around.'

"Eh?!" Athanasia looked up at her father in complete shock.

That was obviously wonderful news for the girl because she really loved the snacks there.

***

Ten minutes had passed since Claude and Athanasia left the building.

"I heard a lot of laughter coming from here," Lily said as she came out of the kitchen to check up on her employee and close friend. Felix was busy sweeping the floor with a broom to get rid of the cookie crumbs on the floor. The brunette smiled and placed her hands on her hips. "You're whistling. Did something good happen to you just now?"

Felix slowly turned his head around to look at Lily. There was a goofy smile present on his handsome face. "If you consider a pretty man coming in here with his cute daughter and he's like... really pretty that you can't stop staring at him as a good thing? Then yes, something good did happen."

"... Ah, so you're in love with a customer. That's a first."

Felix chuckled to himself. "Ahh... I really do hope that they come here more often soon."

#who made me a princess #suddenly i became a princess #suddenly became a princess #suddenly became a princess one day #i suddenly became a princess #wmmap #sbapod #claude de alger obelia #athanasia de alger obelia #felix robane #wmmap claude #wmmap felix #wmmap athanasia #felix x claude #fluff #you won't be seeing any angst or smut here #It's just cute and wholesome stuff

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cherripeach · 3 years

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Chapter 14

Little Match Maker

Summary: Your life motto is “I have the power of god and anime on my side, don’t mess with me,” and you stand by that with your life. No human, magician, or random creature could ever stop your firm belief in it.

However, getting transported to this world that seemed to turn your already bad luck worse was not what you wanted to be in your life story, but you made the most of it. Making friends, enemies, and disasters, you were in your prime in this world, and so you decided to help as many people as you could flourish, at least what you believed to be.

Chapter 1:11-12 good credit, bad credit, you dead: ghost credit

Running to the store on campus, so cute.

Warnings: Curse words, implied violence

Words: 3.1k

Relationships: developing but future twstxreader

Ace groaned while face planting on the counter, “We finally finished peeling them all!”

Deuce moaned in pain, “My arms hurt…” He, then, stretched his arms and popped some of his knuckles while rolling his neck.

You agreed with the two boys, “Yeah, I don’t wanna move for the next decade.” You made your seat on one of the stools next to the counter to take a break after standing for what felt like hours.

Trey chuckled at your reactions, “Great work. I’m sure that your hard work will all be worth it.” While you three were sulking, Trey began cleaning up as much as possible by putting things away and putting things in the dishwasher.

Grim grumbled, “I’m getting hungry just by the smell, yanno.” The cat had tried to take as much of the ingredients as possible while you were preparing, but barely managed to get any.

Trey took a sheet of paper out from a binder and sorted some of the ingredients next to some cooking utensils, “The marron base uses butter and sugar. And then, I also added some oyster sauce as a secret ingredient.”

Ace and Deuce jumped up from their positions of dread in shock, “Oyster sauce?!”

Trey placed the sheet down and grabbed a bottle of the sauce, “Exactly. The savory flavor of the chestnuts gives the cream a rich flavor. And then, to make it better, I use this,” He motioned to the sauce in his hand, “‘Walrus-brand young oyster sauce’. There’s no famous pâtissière who doesn’t use this for their tarts, you know?” He ended it all with a closed eyed smile.

Deuce mumbled, “Really…? It’s a pretty salty sauce, isn’t it?”

“You know how they put chocolate in curry, too?” Ace gave an example, “It kinda makes sense…”

You were, on the other hand, not having it, “Naw, dude. It doesn't; sweet can't just nullify salt or reverse. It’s practically impossible.” You shook your head while the two idiots were just pouting in their confusion.

Trey chuckled while clutching his stomach, “You're right! I was just joking! There’s no way I’d put oyster sauce in a dessert, you know? How’d you know?”

The two idiots never would have guessed that.

Ace’s hand’s shot up in his defense, pointing at his senior, “What the heck!? Are you making fun of us!?”

“It’s obviously impossible if you think about it a little.” Trey’s lighthearted giggle switched to a more wise old lecture, “The moral lesson here is that you shouldn’t believe anything you’re told. Learn to doubt a bit, okay?”

You nodded your head, “See, Ace. I don’t gotta learn that because I knew right away.”

You were a genius. In all eyes besides Ace’s, that is.

Ace snorted, “I bet it was a lucky guess.”

You fought back, “Pshhhh. No way.” You knew this was just the start of one of your many squabbles.

Grim whispered to you behind his hand, “This guy looks nice, but he’s the type who can tell lies with no problem, huh…”

“I guess so.” Your eyes widened at Grim’s statement.

Trey rallied you all together to begin the next step, “Next is the fresh cream!”

A shrill scream ran through the air.

Ace bounced up and questioned Trey, “What’s wrong?”

You joined Ace with your question, “Are you okay?”

“I got carried away with the chestnuts you picked that I went overboard with making the marron base.” Trey laughed at himself and rubbed the back of his head, “We’re a little short on fresh cream.”

Deuce offered, “I’ll go buy some. Do they sell it in the school store?”

Trey explained, “That shop sells pretty much anything, so I’m sure it should be there. Can I ask you to buy some other stuff while you’re at it? Two packs of milk, two cartons of eggs, silicon cups, and five canned fruits…” He writes down the list of items and hands them to Deuce.

Deuce reads the list before commenting, “I don’t think I can carry all of that alone…”

This was your chance, “I’ll come! I need to see if they have uniforms there, anyway.” Maybe you could find some uniforms or even some other clothes for a nice price as if you had any money.

Grim interjected, “I’m going, too! I don’t wanna mix more dough!” He raised his little paw as far as his body would allow it.

“Understandable.” You did not need to lose your arms over baking.

The three of you began your walk to the grocery store on campus with only some light chatter about how excited you all were to taste the finished product and how Grim shouldn’t steal it all.

The grocery store was the size of a drug store, but apparently from what Trey said it had everything anyone at this school needed. It’s gotta be a magic store.

“We sure this is it?” You questioned Deuce because he was sure to know more than you, right?

Deuce pointed out, “I haven’t heard of any other shops here.”

Grim quickly agreed, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let’s get a move on!”

While still warry, you approached the place behind the two overexcited shoppers, both who had stars in their eyes as someone from a novel would say.

Deuce gazed around the place with wide eyes after opening the door where a little bell rang, “Pardon us! Whoa, what an amazing shop… Crystal skulls, magical texts, and… wh-what sort of animal is this…?” Deuce motioned to an animal’s skeleton that was just laying out on one of the shelves. Grim and Deuce took two steps closer to inspect the animal while you took two steps back.

Grim, who began to travel by himself around the store, questioned Deuce and you, “Can we really find some fresh cream here?”

“I’d be surprised if we couldn't find it.” You opened a box that was filled with dusty books while nodding to Grim.

Out of nowhere came a voice near the counter, “Hey! Little lost lambs, what can I help you with? Welcome to Mr. S’s Mystery Shop.” The man had one of the oddest outfits with a bright pink shirt but then a black and dark purple jacket. His fashion sense was certainly new, but his vibe was what shocked you the most. Almost like he knew too much. What is it that you wish for today? A charm against cheating?” He pulled out a slip of paper from his chest pocket, “ An ancient king’s mirror?” a small mirror from his sleeve, “Or maybe, some cursed tarot cards?” He even pulled a box out of thin air.

Grim was frozen in shock for a moment and joined the conversation with a breath, “Ah, you startled me!”

You added on, “He reminds me of those characters from video games and movies that are just normal store owners or vendors that have some of the oddest items.” Looking at his shop, you believed yourself for a moment.

The three of you made your way to the little counter at the back of the store.

Deuce took out the list from his pocket and handed it to the man, “Um… We would like to buy the things written on this note.”

Grim used his arms to pull his face onto the counter as to be seen and begged, “And I also want some canned tuna!”

“With what money?” You waved at him in disbelief, “And I have a question for you, Mystery man.”

Deuce pushed Grim off of the counter, “No! We will not buy any canned tuna!” which only caused Grim to growl at Deuce.

The male scanned the note while tapping his finger in his chin, “Mhmm. What do we have here? Fresh cream and eggs… Oh, my! What a pretty sweet line-up” He gave Deuce a thumbs up, “OK! I shall bring them out now. And I’ll get back to you in just a minute.” The male nodded at you with a small wink at the end of his sentence.

Totally an odd vibe.

Deuce gasped in disbelief letting go of Grim’s fur, “Whoa… Will he really have some here?”

You voiced your thoughts, “Maybe the back is just really big?”

The man returned with five bags full of items on your list, “Here, thank you for the wait. It is rather heavy, so are you sure you can carry them all?” The male, then gestured to a sign right next to the cash register about a special bag to carry all the items, “If you act now, I can throw in a special bag to carry all of those things for 30% off of its original price!” Deuce took out the money Trey gave him and handed it to the shopkeeper.

Grim blurted out, “What did you say? Hey, that sounds interesting!” The cat grabbed your clothes as he normally does pointing at the sign to get your attention focused on it.

Deuce shook his head while grabbing three of the five bags, “We. We will have to decline! Let’s go, Grim!”

“But why?! I wanna play more!” A pointing Grim was not resulting in a good day for anyone, but at this rate you couldn’t spend money on any food.

“About that question,” You brought it up to the shopkeeper.

The off-vibe man nodded, “Ok, what's the problem, little lost lamb?”

You asked, “Do you sell uniforms or at least know where I can find one?”

“I should have some, but they're all used ones. I’ll even cut the price because of how damaged they are.” He then told you the price which was great for uniforms but as someone who owned no cash, not the best.

You thanked the male as you picked up the last two bags while the other two began to walk out, “Thanks! I’m gonna come back once I have the money, but please save them for me.”

“Ok! of course, little lost lamb. I’ll have them in stock just for you.” He winked at you again, and at this point and time you’re just gonna assume it’s normal for him.

“Thank you so much!!” You responded while finally walking out of the shop.

Once outside, Deuce began a new conversation, “That was a very amazing shop, in a way…”

Grim was still pouting at the two of you for not giving him free food, “Boo, you two are so stingy.” His arms were snuggly crossed over one another and even his ears were flattened against his head.

Deuce swung around to ask Grim, “Who are you calling stingy?!” This, however, almost resulted with Grim getting a concussion because of how the bag of canned fruits and heavy cream knocked Grim to the ground.

Deuce quickly apologized, “Sorry!”

You placed your bag to check on Grim by feeling on his head for any bumps or any scrapes from the bag, “Well, no one would give a brat what they want now would they? I know you want some tuna, but money is tight right now and I can’t get you any for a while. Once I save up enough, I promise I’ll get you some.” You brushed back his hair before flicking at his forehead, “Just remember to keep that ego in check. Soon, who knows, maybe I can even buy a hairbrush and maybe even a phone.”

Deuce coughed before fixing the bags in his hold to reach his hand out to you, “The bag with the milks is heavy, isn’t it? I’ll hold it for you. I’m experienced with carrying heavy loads.”

You shook your head, “No way, lover boy, I can handle myself just so you know. And besides that's an odd area of expertise. Any reason why?” You kept walking to distract the male from taking your bag.

Deuce flushed red before starting his explanation, “Yeah, Mother always takes me with her during timed sales. She buys a lot, so I end up helping her with the bags. I’m the only man in the family, so I’m used to helping a lot with hard labor. Ah, I’m sorry… I keep talking about myself.” His face flushed even darker.

You rolled your eyes, “That is incredibly sweet of you, Deuce. Don’t be scared to talk to me about anything. We’re friends. You must care for your mother a lot with how you talk about her.”

Deuce stuttered, “No… That’s not true at all. I… Mother was…” Deuce flies back onto the ground after connecting with someone’s chest, “Ouch!”

All of the materials that Deuce was holding fell to the ground, but the biggest problem was that the eggs were now completely broken and leaking everywhere on the sidewalk.

Grim gasped and fell to his knees to try and save the groceries, “Ah, the eggs!!”

“Hey, you ok?” You reached out your hand to Deuce who grabbed it so that you could pull him up onto both of his feet.

Deuce locked eyes on the bag of now broken eggs and cursed, “Damn it!” He picked up the bag of eggs and began to check to see if any of the eggs were not broken and could be used, “All the eggs in the carton broke! The plastic bag’s now reeking with eggs…!” Deuce tossed them in the trash while Grim squirmed to grab the bag from him.

A white haired familiar looking male scoffed at the three of you, “That hurt! Where the hell’re ya lookin’ at,” His eyes darted to each member of your little group before continuing, “Wha? You’re the guys who ruined my carbonara’s soft-boiled egg during lunch today!”

Another familiar red haired student was right on his side, “Damn, it’s you guys again. Ya better give us a break.”

You grabbed as many bags as you could carry that Deuce had before, and you snorted, “And I thought I already crushed your egos, but I should have known you can't break a brick for a brain.”

The white haired boy snickered at the three of you, “Well it seems the little supervisor can’t even get us in trouble so no need for fear. You can’t harm us.”

Deuce had been standing in place for the last couple of seconds with his eyes on his feet, “…Aren’t you the ones at fault for bumping into me?” His sharp gaze met that of the duo of delinquents, “Even during lunch. The egg wasn’t really that badly harmed, but you made a huge scene out of it. Our carton of eggs is totally ruined, though.” Deuce rolled up the sleeves to his jacket.

Grim agreed standing as tall as he could across from the two upperclassmen, “He’s totally right!”

You walked over to where Deuce and Grim had made their little fighting stance, “Let’s just leave. They’re not gonna listen and we shouldn't get into a fight with idiots.” To further get Deuce’s attention, you pulled into the shoulder of his jacket to motion toward the bags, “We can always replace them. Let’s just get what we have back.”

The white haired boy swore, “The hell? You sayin’ it’s my fault, then? And idiots? I’m much smarter than any of you. Respect your elders!”

Deuce paid no mind to you or your constant poking on his shoulder, “Yes, please pay us back for the eggs. And also, please apologize to the chickens.”

“Hah?” The red haired boy quipped at Deuce, “Makin’ a ruckus over eggs, are we?”

Deuce grunts, “Hah?” before turning to you, “Remember the promise right?”

You nodded at him.

“Then, back up.” He lightly pushed you to make you back up, “And don’t get involved.” You locked eyes with the male only to see his eyebrows furrowed and a large scowl on your face. And as much as you wanted to help him and get him out of this situation, there’s nothing you can do against magic users. At least not yet.

The two other students did not realize how ready Deuce was to make this physical or how personal this was.

The whit haired boy groaned, “It didn’t hit the ground so you can still eat it. Stop makin’ a fuss over little things.” The boy slapped his friend before whispering something to him.

The other boy snickered before adding, “Ya better be thankful they broke inside the plastic bag!”

“Not only are they dumb, but blind too,” You mumbled to yourself which Grim could hear from his small chortle.

Deuce still had not lost his eye contact with the other two boys, seemingly eyeing them down to wait for the perfect moment.

Both of the boys let out the largest giggles possible that a teenage boy could without sounding like girls gossiping with their heads thrown back and their hands clutching their stomachs.

“Laughing at something that is surely your fault.” You rolled your eyes while trying to get the boy’s attention on Deuce who was in your eyes about to murder a bitch, “I think you should just pay us back for it. Maybe some extra too for having to deal with your terrible attitude to even it out.”

Neither student responded to you only grunting out stiffles of laughter for the next couple of seconds.

Deuce muttered to himself breaking eye contact with the two to gaze down at his hand which was clenched like in one of those TV shows when a character is going to do something he regrets, “... Mess with me, will you…”

White haired kid raises his eyebrows in confusion as Deuce looks to be slowly going insane, “Huh?”

Deuce exploded at the two, “I told you to stop laughing, damn it!!” His feet began to move closer and closer to the two who just stood in horror for the boy who was once silent, “You ain’t got no choice but to apologize for something that’s your fault! These eggs will be used to make a delicious tart in place of turning into chicks, bastard!! Do you understand me, huh!?”

“Wh-what’s with him all of a sudden…?!” The red haired boy was backing away from the approaching student and had a look of disbelief on his face.

Deuce grabbed his fist in one hand and cracked the knuckles of the other one, “If you’re not gonna pay me back for the 6 eggs, I got no choice but to beat the hell out of you six times.”

The white haired male faltered, “Huh!?” before seeing the blue haired male coming straight for him with his fists in a fighting position.

“Grit your teeth, you little bastards!!” And with that Deuce began his little fight by pulling at the kid’s clothes and punching them a little too hard.

“Where does that phrase even come from?” But what could you do besides stand there and wait even if you didn’t want the two to get hurt going into the fight now would be harmful.

You really need to stop getting involved in fights.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #twst grim #deuce spade #trey clover #ace trappola

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gravelyhumerus · 3 years

Text

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter 8

Title: “I may just take your breath away” / Sweater Weather AU

Relationship: Jemily

Word count: 35,604

Summary:

Penelope hacks the college. JJ pets a cat. There are three blowjobs. Need I say more?

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

JJ adjusted the textbook in her hands, rolling onto her side to get comfortable with it. Behind her, was the calming sounds of Penelope’s pop music and her dancing fingertips as she typed code into her computer.

She had only a few pages left to read, but she was having a hard time focusing. JJ’s brain kept drifting to the events of that weekend. On Halloween, they played spin the bottle. JJ’s spin landed right on Emily, meaning that they had to kiss.

But it was not chaste. As Penelope most eloquently put it: “you two were seconds from ripping each other’s clothes off in front of us.”

JJ couldn’t wrap her head around it.

Emily had really kissed her. There was tongue. It was not a peck to play the game; they had gone at it like teenagers in the backseat of a car at a lovers’ lane.

It made reading her textbook difficult when she knew what Emily’s tongue felt like against hers. It made doing her essay challenging when she could remember the taste of her lips. It made doing just about anything next to impossible when JJ was desperate to kiss Emily again.

“Did you know that it’s Hotch’s birthday tomorrow?” Penelope asked, spinning in her chair to look at JJ.

“Wait, what?” JJ asked. She looked up from her textbook.

“So... I’ve hacked into the college database,” Penelope said, turning back to her computer, her hands were once again typing a mile a minute. “Because of the whole thing with Reid not telling us about his birthday, the poor thing, and I didn’t want to miss anyone else’s.”

“Maybe we could do a co-birthday?” JJ mused, thinking about the logistics of that.

“You read my mind, my beautiful sporty friend,” Penelope replied. “I’ve almost got everyone’s, just a minute.”

JJ stood up, walked over to Garcia’s side of the room. Somehow, her side of the room was cleaner than JJ’s, despite the sheer amount of things. Her desk was covered in trinkets, decorations and her wall covered in posters, art prints and photographs. JJ’s, on the other hand, had significantly less stuff, and way more mess. She was a busy girl and her desk was basically useless with all of her books and loose paper and miscellaneous things she needed to deal with ages ago.

“Did you know that Morgan is a gemini?” Penelope asked.

“Figures,” JJ replied, hoping that was the right response.

Garcia had two monitors on her light, wooden desk, and a large desktop computer that she had built herself tucked underneath. On one monitor, was a file that she was slowly adding to, of birthdays written in white text on a grey background. Her own was there, alongside Spencer, Hotch, Derek….

JJ then watched as Garcia typed out Emily’s birthday: October 12. They had missed it too!

“Oh my god,” Penelope said, “why don’t they tell us these things?! How did we befriend such secretive people.”

“Wait, when was that?” JJ murmured, grabbing her wall calendar and flipping through the pages. “Oh my god I saw her that day. She was baking cookies, alone.”

“Alone?” Penelope whimpered.

JJ thought back to that night. She had barged into the kitchen, talked all about her impending break up with Will, and ate Emily’s cookies. She felt awful. Obviously they didn’t know each other as well then, but why was she alone?

“She didn’t even tell Derek,” Penelope said, “oh that sweet summer child. Who hurt her?”

JJ always celebrated her birthday. Be it a family dinner or a full on birthday party when she was a kid, JJ was used to a fuss made about her each year. It was harder after Ros, but her parents refused to let the day pass without at least a cake and a present.

As she befriended Penelope last year, their birthdays were filled with presents and friendship and alcohol, both girls making sure to give the other a thoughtful gift and make a fuss for the day.

Her heart was breaking that three of her new friends were about to let theirs pass without anything to show for it.

“We should have a party,” JJ blurted.

“You read my mind.”

JJ frankly welcomed the distraction from her circular thoughts about her kiss with Emily.

———

JJ left another store empty handed. She had first placed an order at a store downtown for a birthday cake, with three names on it which confused the baker, then began to wander downtown searching for presents.

She had another half hour before she was supposed to meet back up with Derek and Penelope, who were at the dollar store buying decorations, and she had hoped to find something for Emily by then.

The three of them were quite efficient at party planning, and they had to be with such a quick turnaround time. JJ had been tasked with finding a present for Emily.

For Hotch, they wrangled a bottle of the nicer whiskey that he liked, because even at the age of 21, he was somehow already an old man in his tastes. Spencer was also easy, because Penelope was working on knitting him a scarf. Apparently it was from the show Dr. Who, but JJ didn’t really know much about that besides that it was British and both he and Penelope were big fans.

Emily was a lot harder to shop for.

What could JJ get for her with the thirty dollars that they all had pitched in to fund her present? Not much. Especially since JJ knows that Emily comes from money. If she wanted something, she could probably just buy it for herself, right?

It was also difficult because it would be from her. It would be a token of her affections. What were her affections? Did she want to simply sleep with her? Date with her? Be her best friend? JJ’s thoughts were a mess.

JJ had been in just about every store downtown, browsing clothes, gift stores, even a plant store in which she contemplated the meaning of getting Emily a cactus. Nothing was quite right.

She had almost given up when she wandered past a used book store. She had never been in before but always meant to. Out front was a stack of old milk crates filled with books, mostly romance novels and thrillers, and inside the window, beautifully bound antique books were resting in the display.

A bell dinged as she walked in, and an elderly man waved at her from the counter before returning to his own book.

Inside, the smell of old books filled her senses, mixed with the smell of apples and cinnamon and the earthy smell of all the old buildings in her college town.

Stacked floor to ceiling were mountains of books, towering over her head.

There were a few other patrons in the shop, some sitting and reading, others wandering the stacks, pulling out the occasional book.

JJ slowly made her way through the maze. It was larger inside than she expected, with thousands of old books surrounding her, no matter where she looked. At times, she had to step over a pile of books in her path.

The books were organized by topic, but within that, JJ couldn’t discern a clear system.

She climbed the creaky staircase and pondered what kind of book Emily would like. Is buying her a romance novel too forward? JJ wondered. She probably wouldn’t be able to find one with two women anyways.

Did Emily like fantasy? Sci-fi? Non Fiction? Should JJ get her something she’s read? JJ realized that she hadn’t read anything that wasn’t for school in ages.

JJ felt overwhelmed. Was she thinking too hard?

She did a double take at the window sill, realizing that the movement that caught her eye was a black cat basking in the sunlight.

JJ reached out her hand tentatively to pet it. The cat nuzzled her hand, and began to purr. JJ smiled, spending a few minutes giving the cat much needed attention.

The cat then stood, apparently growing bored, and ran off to investigate something or chase a mouse or whatever bookstore cats got up to.

Where it lay was a small book. It was old, but not as old as some of the other leather bound texts in this store. Its white cover had a simple drawing of a boy, and written in a looping script: “Le Petit Prince.”

JJ smiled slightly, picking up the thin book. She leaned against the windowsill and carefully flipped through the pages, admiring the illustrations and trying to decipher the premise with her limited understanding of French.

It seemed like it was for children, with whimsical art of a boy on a small planet, a king, a rose and a fox, among other things. She read the first few pages, about a boy falling in love with a flower, and decided it was perfect.

It was a sign, JJ thought, the cat led her to this book.

The cat—which reminded JJ of Emily with its standoffish exterior but affectionate personality—had clearly shown her that this was the perfect present.

There was no price on it, and JJ worried that it would be out of her budget. Holding it to her chest, she descended the steps and brought the book to the clerk.

“Hello sir,” JJ greated him, setting the book down on the table, “How much is this book? ”

He was seated in a comfortable looking chair behind a counter with an old-fashioned cash register. The sign on it read, ‘cash only’ and there was a tip jar in the form of a cat mug.

“Oh this is an excellent choice!” The man lifted the book up, examining the cover. “On ne voit qu’avec le cœur.”

That was French. JJ didn’t know what it meant, only catching the word “heart” at the end. She nodded nonetheless.

“You speak French?” He asked her.

She shrugged. “I’m learning.”

“This book will teach you more than just French,” the man said. “Trust me.”

JJ didn’t know what he meant, but nodded. He still hadn’t told her how much it was.

“It’s a gift,” JJ explained, “for a friend.”

He handed her back the book, smiling at her. He gave it to her for fifteen dollars, seeming to make up the price on the spot. The black cat waited for her near the door, letting her pet him on the ears before she left.

JJ left the door, hugging the book to her chest.

———

Wrangling three of their friends into attending a surprise party was harder than it looked.

With three student athletes, nights during which none of them had games, or practices were scarce, so it took them until the next Friday before they found a free evening. Then, they had to go through the ordeal of convincing them to show up at Derek’s room at the right time.

JJ felt giddy with the secret, greatly enjoying the party planning and doing something special for her new friends. On her Wednesday afternoon study date with Emily, her excitement for the party almost overpowered her nervousness with the girl due to their recent kiss. JJ caught herself looking more at Emily than her notes, alternating between imagining them kissing and imagining the look on Emily’s face when she received her present.

By seven that Friday night, they had fully decorated Derek’s tiny dorm with streamers, balloons, and just about anything Penelope could find at the dollar store. A happy birthday sign was strung over one of the windows, with the addition of their friends' names written in marker on poster boards taped underneath.

Their presents were wrapped messily, as JJ wasn’t particularly good at using wrapping paper. The cake sat on Derek’s desk reading “Happy (belated) birthday Emily, Hotch and Spencer!” in red icing on white cake.

The three of them were frantically blowing up balloons and checking their phones. JJ felt slightly light headed by the time they were done.

Hotch and Emily were coming for a “study date” with Derek, and Spencer was expecting a Dr. Who marathon with Garcia. All were supposed to be there any minute.

There was a knock on the door.

“Get ready!” Garcia squealed, “someone’s here!”

She opened the door, and instead of the birthday kids, it was David Rossi, who JJ had met for the first time a few weeks prior. He was 22, only a few months older than Hotch, in his first year of his masters. He and Hotch were close, and Emily and Derek knew him well since he TA’d one of their classes.

“Rossi?” Derek said, “you came!”

“I never turn down an invitation to a party,” he said.

“I have to admit,” Derek said, “it’s not that much of a party.“

“It’s more of a magical birthday get together,” Penelope said as she ushered him in.

“Good thing I brought enough alcohol to make it a party,” he said.

He pulled a very expensive looking bottle of vodka out of his backpack, and more beers than should fit in a normal sized bag.

“I take it back,” Derek said, “this is definitely a party.”

There was another knock on the door.

“Come in!” Garcia said, picking up a balloon to throw.

Spencer opened the door trailed by Hotch and Emily, all looking confused as they were bombarded by a dozen balloons cascading down from above and a series of hugs from the group. All were looking around with a mix of shock and happiness on their faces.

“It’s technically none of your birthdays today,” Penelope said, “Because you are all such awful private people, BUT I got the goods and figured it out. We thought we would celebrate all of you guys, and our amazing friend group, with this little shindig.”

“It’s wonderful Garcia,” Hotch said, almost smiling, “Thank you.”

“Don’t just thank me!” she said, “It was Miss Jennifer’s idea, and she got the cake. And my beautiful Derek helped me with the decorations and loaned his room, which might I say, is strangely large for a single room.”

Derek chucked, “It was my pleasure, happy birthday you three.”

He pulled Spencer in and ruffled his hair.

“We’ve ordered pizza too!” JJ announced, “It should be here any minute now.”

“You’re too good to us,” Emily finally spoke up, after standing in the doorway with a dazed expression on her face.

Penelope guided them in, and the group exchanged hugs and laughter, and Hotch got a very Italian kiss on the cheek from Rossi. Penelope put silly birthday hats on their heads, and took photos like a proud mother.

After a few minutes of chatter—about the decorations, how they managed to keep it a secret, and most importantly, the illegality of Penelope hacking into their personal data on the university server— JJ’s phone pinged and she ran to the foyer to get the pizzas.

Munching on greasy food, there was a companionable silence with the cheery sounds of the music in the background.

As pizza wrapped up, their chatter resumed and the room filled with overlapping conversations. JJ noticed Rossi had snuck off to fish something out of Derek’s mini fridge, pouring something out into shot glasses. Then she heard the sound of whipped cream.

At that sound, all heads turned towards him. He had three cups filled to the brim with whipped cream and he looked like he was about to burst into laughter at any point.

“BIRTHDAY SHOTS!” Penelope squealed.

“No way,” Hotch said, “I’m not doing one of those.”

“One of what?” Spencer asked nervously.

“It’s not a blowjob is it?” Emily asked with a laugh.

“A blowjob?” Spencer asked even more nervously.

“It’s a shot, kid,” Derek assured him, “you just can’t use your hands and there’s the-“

He gestured at the whipped cream with a laugh.

“White stuff!” Emily said, tying up her hair into a ponytail in preparation.

Rossi had to explain the premise several times, before it sunk in that they had to fish out the small shot and drink it all without using their hands. Reid looked at them suspiciously but he warmed up to the idea after Hotch offered to go first so he could see how it’s done.

The older boy had definitely done a blowjob shot before, efficiently grabbing the plastic shot cup and downing it, his cheeks covered with whipped cream.

Emily was enthusiastically buried in the whipped cream but struggled on the follow through, spilling most of the vodka into the larger cup before she drank it.

Reid seemed nervous to get the whipped cream on his face, reeling back and wiping his cheeks then trying again.

Eventually, Derek reached his hand into the cup, retrieved the shot and held it up to Spencer’s mouth.

“Look ma, no hands!” Morgan quipped before rubbing some leftover whipped cream on the younger boy’s face as the group laughed. Reid was laughing happily, beaming as he wiped his face.

With the celebratory shot in their system, it was time for cake. JJ carefully used Penelope’s bright pink lighter to ignite candles on each piece for her three friends as they sang Happy Birthday to them.

“Happy birthday to you!” They sang, “happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Hotch, Spence and Emily! Happy birthday to you!”

They blew out their candles. All were instructed to make wishes.

As the night progressed, JJ got more and more nervous about the present. What if Emily hated it? Would she ruin the whole night? Penelope and Derek had assured her that it was a good present but what if they were wrong too?

JJ busied herself with cutting the cake, distributing pieces and making sure everyone had forks and napkins.

Rossi, who was their unofficial bartender, was stationed near the mini fridge and passed out fresh beers when called upon.

“Gifts!” Penelope exclaimed once they had made good work of the cake, dragging the presents out from their hiding space under Derek’s desk.

She handed them over to Emily, Hotch and Reid.

“We all pitched in,” Derek said.

All three looked perturbed at the fuss, murmuring “you shouldn’t have” as they looked at the gift. Spencer opened his and laughed, wrapping the incredibly long striped scarf around his neck and thanking Penelope. Aaron actually did smile at his present and expressed his gratitude by pouring them all shots.

Emily held hers for a moment, staring at the wrapped book with an unreadable expression on her face. JJ watched, holding her breath as she turned it over, then placed it back down.

“Will you excuse me for a second?” Emily said, her voice tight and sounding very… formal.

JJ gulped as Emily stood, and exited the dorm, shutting the door behind her. She immediately thought that she had done something wrong.

The group looked back and forth, not quite sure what to do, as the commotion happened mid way through Hotch doling out shots of whiskey and some were already half raised.

A moment passed as JJ thought about whether it would be worse for her to follow or leave her be. Maybe she wanted to be left alone? Maybe JJ was the last person Emily wanted to see?

She knew there was a lot about Emily that she didn’t know. Like JJ, the other girl kept a lot close to her chest. Over time, JJ had learned some details of her childhood, but not all, and what she knew didn’t look good. Maybe all of this was a bad idea? Emily might have had a reason that she didn’t celebrate her birthday. This could have been an awful plan and it would have been all JJ’s fault.

She stood and grabbed the book, deciding to follow Emily. She slipped out the door and walked slowly down the hall, unsure of what she would even say to Emily once she faced her. Hey I just gave you a gift and you all but ran out of the room before you opened it, did I offend you somehow? Or I’m sorry?

JJ wasn’t sure what she was sorry for. She just knew something was upsetting Emily and the last thing JJ wanted to be was the cause of that. In fact, she wanted to make Emily happy and make sure nothing ever bothered her ever again. It would probably be weird for her to say that, right?

She assumed that Emily had gone to the communal bathroom, as she left her lanyard with her room keys behind her in Derek’s room. If she had left the floor she would have been locked out.

JJ took a breath outside the door, then pushed it open.

Emily was standing in the bathroom that all of the girls floor shared, with its small row of stalls, old fashioned sinks and blue tiled floor. A frosted window that looked out into the courtyard. Many mornings JJ found herself brushing her teeth next to the other girl.

Emily had her arms braced on the sides of the sink, leaning forward and looking at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing was coming in quick breaths.

“Em?” JJ said softly.

Startled by the noise, Emily looked away from her, quickly pulling up a corner of her shirt to wipe her eyes.

“You ok?” JJ asked, tucking the present behind her back.

“I’m fine,” Emily said, standing up straight and giving her a half smile. Her posture was stiff, her smile forced.

“You don’t look fine.”

Emily stepped back, leaning against the window sill. She crossed her arms, still avoiding any eye contact.

JJ walked forward, slowly closing the distance.

She leaned on the wall beside Emily, trying not to stare at her and make her feel uncomfortable.

“Did I do something wrong?” JJ asked. Her voice sounded small in her ears. She immediately kicked herself, upset at how this might sound like she was making it all about herself.

“No!” Emily exclaimed, shaking her head. “No. It wasn’t you it’s…”

She trailed off.

“I’ve never had all this before. The friends and the party and the gifts. All this attention… it’s a lot.”

She slid to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. JJ did the same, turning to face the other girl. She didn’t want to push too hard lest Emily flee from her again.

“It’s all so nice,” Emily whispered.

“Then what’s wrong?” JJ asked softly.

Emily sighed and began to bite her nails. Her posture was hunched over, curled up on the cold tile floor.

She began to speak, then stopped herself, gritting her teeth and blinking hard. She looked over at JJ reluctantly, seeming to think hard about how to answer that question.

“I was always the new girl wherever I was,” she said. “I was never anywhere enough to make friends, real friends that is. Or have anything like all this. I would do anything to fit in and it never seemed to work.”

JJ’s heart felt like it was breaking for her friend. She tried to imagine Emily trying to be anyone else other than the Emily she knew and couldn’t. Fitting in is hard, let alone fitting into new countries and learning new languages. JJ knew she wouldn’t have been able to keep it together.

Emily shook her head, picking at the skin around her nails anxiously, JJ could tell that sharing all of this was incredibly difficult.

“I lived in a dozen different countries and was barely there long enough to make friends and when I did…” Emily sighed. “I fucked it up. I make things worse for people.”

Emily buried her face in her hands, her breaths coming harder now. Her voice was shaky and quiet, almost whispering to JJ.

“My mom was never around on my birthdays. She would leave me a present. Maybe. This year she didn’t even call.”

Emily paused.

“And then you guys do all this.”

Emily looked up, staring with unfocused eyes into the bathroom, JJ could tell she was thinking of someone else, some other day. She looked lost.

JJ wanted to hold her hand, wanted to comfort her, keep her close. She was always called the mom friend, it was in her nature to try and make sure her friends were taken care of. Her feelings for Emily complicated things. If she was anyone else, she would grab her hand, no questions asked, but she felt herself second-guessing each move.

Her actions suddenly felt like they had more weight to them. Knowing that she liked Emily made everything strange. If she held her hand, would it be weird? She didn’t know. Normally, she wouldn’t question holding a friend’s hand, hell, she’d already held Emily’s hand.

But that was before she was gay, or bi, or whatever. Before she knew she liked girls. Liked Emily. Now, touching her felt scary, like she was doing something wrong, even if she was simply trying to be nice.

Fighting against her anxious thoughts, JJ reached out, tugging at Emily’s wrist until her hand clasped onto hers. JJ ran a reassuring thumb over her hand. She sighed a breath of relief when Emily leaned into the touch.

“You’re our friend,” JJ said, simply. “And we care about you.”

Emily nodded, still not looking at her.

“When I held your present in my hands,” Emily said, “I just couldn't stop thinking of my friend Matthew. He surprised me on my sixteenth birthday, pulling me out of some stupid event my mother had dragged me to. That was the only time I got a real birthday present before now.”

JJ hadn’t heard about this friend. Emily didn’t really talk about her past, beyond the general facts. JJ had to stop herself from prying, fighting back her curiosity in favour of letting Emily talk.

She squeezed Emily’s hand in a gesture she hoped would be encouraging.

“Your gift just brought back a lot of memories,” Emily said with a whisper. “Matthew basically saved my life. He was the only friend I had before now I guess.”

She looked over at JJ.

“I’m sorry,” Emily said, wiping at her eyes.

“Don’t be.”

JJ pulled Emily into her, wrapping her arms around her and holding her tight. Emily let out a muffled sob and fell into her, with her head tucked under JJ’s chin. They sat like that for a while, JJ listening to Emily’s ragged breathing and JJ running a calming hand over her back. Emily’s face was buried in her shoulder, her soft hair tickled JJ’s face as she held her tight.

She focused on rubbing Emily’s back, making patterns with her hand on top of her soft sweater. Emily’s arms were wrapped around her waist.

For a moment, tears pricked at JJ’s eyes. Watching Emily finally be vulnerable to her, for her to share something, even if she left out details, was a lot. She blinked them back and focused on steadying her breathing, being a calm presence for Emily.

After a moment Emily pulled away, creating some distance between them, wiping her face with her sleeve and sniffling.

“JJ I don’t want you to get hurt,” Emily said, her voice cracking, “I just bring people pain.”

“What happened, Em?” JJ asked.

Emily looked at her with teary eyes and shook her head.

“You don’t have to tell me, Emily. But I need you to know that whatever it is, I’ll still be here. I care so much about you and just… like being your friend. I don’t care what happened in your past or if you think you’re going to hurt me. All I care about is us.”

“I like being your friend,” Emily said with a teary laugh.

JJ smiled at her, pulling her into another hug. Holding her tight feeling like the girl would break into pieces in front of her if she let go.

“Do you want your present?” JJ asked carefully, still hugging Emily. She could feel the other girl nod.

JJ pulled back, taking the wrapped book from the tile floor and placing it in Emily’s lap. Emily carefully began to unwrap it, as if she wasn’t allowed to rip the brightly patterned paper.

“You know you can rip it, right?” JJ said with a kind laugh. “Just tear it open, it’s part of the fun!”

Emily looked at her nervously, and half heartedly tugged at the wrapping paper.

“Harder!” JJ said, demonstrating by pulling on it and making a satisfying tearing noise. JJ assumed that the girl didn’t have the opportunity to tear open presents as a kid, and JJ wanted to make sure she didn’t miss out on that joy anymore.

Emily laughed and tore at it, ripping the paper off and revealing the small book underneath. Le Petit Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.

“I read this as a kid,” Emily breathed, staring at the cover reverently.

She opened the cover and looked through the first few pages.

“L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux,” Emily quoted the novel just as the book shop clerk had done.

“What is essential is invisible to the eyes,” JJ translated. “I don’t really get it. I tried to read it before I gave it to you, but didn’t make much headway.”

“It’s about love,” Emily said as she flipped through the pages.

Emily slowly turned the pages, smiling down at the whimsical illustrations and murmured about it in French that JJ couldn’t quite make out.

“I could translate it for you if you want?” Emily offered.

“Is it as good in English?”

“No,” Emily said with a laugh.

JJ beamed, happy that her gift was no longer making Emily upset. She hoped that whatever bad memories she had about birthdays were being amended with some joy from today.

“Well then I just have to get better at French so that I can understand it,” JJ said. “I’ll need a good tutor.”

“This is an amazing present. Thank you JJ.”

They smiled at each other.

“I’ll read it to you,” Emily said, “And you can stop me and I can explain anything you don’t understand.”

JJ’s heart fluttered at the thought of Emily reading a love story out loud. Though, from what she saw it was about a boy being in love with a flower so it couldn’t be that romantic, could it?

“Sounds like a plan,” JJ said. “Should we get back? I wouldn’t want to worry the others.”

Emily nodded, then the two of them stood up together. JJ’s legs had fallen asleep while sitting on the cold, tiled floor so she dramatically shook them out, making Emily laugh.

God her laugh, she wanted to hear that forever. She’d do anything to keep Emily smiling and happy.

As they walked back to the party, it was Emily who took JJ’s hand.

Maybe they could be friends. Maybe that would be enough.

#criminal minds #cm #criminal minds tv #jemily #emily prentiss x jennifer jareau #prentiss x jj #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #gravelyhumerus cm college au #my post #my writing #after all that i almost forgot to actually post it #hope u all enjoy xoxoox #kennedy is not in this chapter i am sorry to her fans

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bleedinghearthalstead · 4 years

Text

SWAT!Jay / Upstead AU

A/N: Part 11. Post Bruised Ego. Crossposted on AO3, link on my blog.

They've come to realize that they're missing a lot of kitchen essentials and unless Jay is willing to dive into the tinned cans tucked into the back of one the cabinets, they are definitely in need of a grocery run.

It's been a while since they've been grocery shopping together. Since they're both barely home, their fridge rather resembles one of a bachelor than of a married couple, mostly empty except for condiments and random take-out containers and that old bottle of milk that probably went bad last week. But now that Jay is home with a broken hand, they've come to realize that they're missing a lot of kitchen essentials and unless Jay is willing to dive into the tinned cans tucked into the back of one the cabinets, they are definitely in need of a grocery run.

When Jay suggests that they go to Costco, Hailey raises an eyebrow at him. Jay is usually the get in, get what you need and get out type of shopper, so it really is a testament to how bored he is at home and it's only been a week. She doesn’t want to know what else he’s going to come up with in the next five. Hailey quickly makes a list of what they need – wow, they're apparently out of salt – and they're off to what she knows is going to be a much longer shopping trip than she had planned for.

They've barely stepped foot in the warehouse and Jay has already wandered off towards the electronics on sale, leaving Hailey with their cart. She thinks about calling after her husband, but she just rolls her eyes at him and keeps walking towards the food section in the back. He better not be looking at that 70 inch TV that he was talking about with Will the other night. Hailey methodically goes down every aisle – if they're here already, she might as well make the most of it and find some of those hidden sale items. She remembers going shopping with her mother, one of the few things she and her mother did together – just the two of them since her brothers hated it – and they’d make a fun game out of it, doing a treasure hunt for those elusive limited offers. She’d run ahead of her mother, ducking and jumping, running back and forth the aisles, trying to glimpse the highlighted price signs. Both of them would rejoice every time Hailey found a treasure. She marvels at how fondly she looks back at such a mundane thing as buying groceries.

Half an hour later Hailey finds Jay in the cereal aisle, one-handedly pushing his own cart, already filled with all kinds of things. "Jay!" She walks over to him, her eyes widening at what is in his cart. "What in the world…"

"Oh hey, babe." Jay gives her a blinding smile and throws two large boxes of Cinnamon Toast Crunch into his cart.

She rummages through the items he’s gotten so far and they definitely do not need 1,875 q-tips or 200 trash bags or that tub of 115 dishwasher detergent pacs. And is that a 2 pound tin of peanuts? She spots something blue and silver at the bottom of the cart and she scrunches up her nose in disgust. "Oh God, is that a 24-pack of Red Bull?!"

"Leave it," he laughs and slaps his wife’s hands away.

She sees that he’s also already been to the meat section and got two whole chickens, four racks of ribs and what looks like ten pounds of ground beef. "Who’s gonna eat all of that?"

Jay shrugs and scratches the back of his head. "I thought I’d invite the guys over for a barbeque." And now she knows how bored Jay really is, if he’s willing to cater for eight guys who eat like they’re bottomless pits, with a broken hand no less. Hailey sighs, knowing that this is going to happen whether she wants it or not.

"Alright," she huffs and looks through the rest of his cart – there's burger buns, but there's nary a vegetable in sight, and no, she’s not gonna count the massive glass of pickles. "How about some sides and some other drinks?"

Jay’s brilliant smile is back and he leans down to peck her on the lips. "You’re the best."

In the hopes of speeding things up, Hailey types out a list on her phone and Jay’s phone pings a few seconds later. "You get those things and I’ll get the rest. Meet at checkout in twenty?"

He looks at the items she sent him and nods, checking his watch. "Copy that."

"Oh," Hailey stops him with a grin, "and can you get me some tampons when you get the toilet paper?"

"Orange or green?" Jay sticks out his tongue at her. He knows she tries to catch him off-guard sometimes, but honestly, it's not the first time he got her tampons and it's not like he minds.

She winks at him. "Yellow."

"Yes, ma'am." He'll get her some tampons, she'll see.

On her round to get the last few things on her own list (a.k.a. the things that they were actually planning to buy before they got here), she catches Jay stuffing his face with food samples four times, and every time he waves and yells at her to try this or that with his mouth full. And every time she pushes her cart quickly down the next aisle, shaking her head at his antics.

After she gets everything they needed, she gives him the full twenty minutes and another ten afterwards just browsing through the store before she goes to checkout, but her husband is nowhere to be seen. Hailey tries calling him, but it just keeps ringing until it goes to voicemail. Sighing, she guesses that Jay got lost somewhere in the cheese section, looking for the feta cheese that she put on his list. Waiting for another five minutes, Hailey decides to pay and get a sundae from the food court while she waits for him.

"Babe, over here!" She hears his voice as soon as she’s past the cash registers, surprised that he beat her to the food court. He’s holding a half-eaten hot dog in his right hand and balancing another one on his cast, a soda cup tucked into the crook of his elbow. Jay looks like a food spill waiting to happen, so Hailey hurries towards him, saving the hot dog that is precariously perched on his arm.

The toppings are piled high and there’s extra sauerkraut, just the way she likes it. She smiles up at Jay and thumbs away a drop of ketchup from the corner of his mouth before she stands up on her tiptoes and gives him a quick kiss. "Thanks, babe."

He raises an eyebrow at her when she takes her first bite. "Who said that one’s for you?"

His wife giggles and retorts with a raised eyebrow of her own. "Let’s see you try and take this away from me."

"Oh no," Jay laughs, "I'm only gonna make that mistake once." He finishes the rest of his hot dog in one bite – his cheeks comically bulging as he chews – and washes it down with a couple of big gulps of soda. He takes Hailey’s cart and leads her to where he left his while she eats her hot dog.

"Hey, Raymond," he walks up to an employee, "all good?"

"Yeah, man, your carts are over there." The guy points at two carts (he did say carts, as in plural, Hailey thinks) that are pushed against the wall next to him.

"Thanks, buddy." Jay fistbumps the guy and pushes Hailey’s cart over to the others.

Hailey almost chokes on the bite of hot dog in her mouth. The last time she saw him half an hour ago, he had one cart that was already ridiculously full and he walked out with two? She doesn’t even know how Jay did it. It’s hard enough to push two carts by yourself, but he can’t even hold on to the other one properly with his cast? And how did he even get the stuff in the cart? She forces herself to swallow down the bite and blurts out, "What the fuck?"

A woman with two little kids walking by glares at Hailey and Jay snorts loudly. She doesn’t even notice, still staring at Jay’s two overflowing carts. One of them is definitely the one that she saw him with, only now thirty rolls of toilet paper and about 300 tampons stacked on top. The second one is loaded with three 24-pack trays of beer, three big bottles of bourbon, a six pack of Coke bottles and a gallon of orange juice. And it’s all piled on top of a…

"Is that a mini fridge?!" Hailey's voice goes up an octave. She turns to Jay who looks at her like the cat that ate the canary, big grin and all. Jay bought a mini fridge. Hailey pinches the bridge of her nose, but can't help the laugh that escapes her. She knew one of them was going to buy something they didn't need, but this definitely beats the yoga pants and sports bra that she treated herself to.

"It's actually a stainless steel cooler on wheels," Jay explains proudly. "It's got its own bottle opener and cap catcher."

Laughing out loud, she hands her half-eaten hot dog to Jay who gladly takes it and continues to wolf it down. She pats his good arm. "Honey, you get all of that stuff in the car, I don't care how."

"And what are you gonna do?"

"I’m getting a sundae," she announces and walks off. Behind her she hears Jay roping that poor guy Raymond into helping him with the carts. Then she hears him call after her. "Babe! Get me a strawberry sundae too!" She shakes her head with a smile and gets in line.

#upstead #jay halstead #hailey upton #chicago pd #pure fluff and humor #upstead doing mundane things #bhhfic #swat!jay au

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buirbaby · 3 years

Text

The Wardens: Death Is A Cruel Mistress

Summary: Tabitha's time had run out on Earth, consumed by flames. When she wakes up in her new hell, she discovers that not only is it cold, but it's a hell of an entirely different meaning. She is in Westeros, with the knowledge to change the tides of future, but without the ability to speak it aloud. Tabitha must carve her path without fame, fortune, or noble titles in order to save characters from their deaths. All she has is a sword in her hand and the ability to warg.

Rating: M+ Mature themes, language, and violence

Masterlist | Next

The end of the work day was like any other. Tabitha was misting a few plants in the lowlight of the fading afternoon as evening encroached on her small storefront. Jingling jovially, the door tinkled open with just five minutes to spare on the clock before she'd lock it. Lifting her head, her fingers listed up toward her glasses to see who had entered. Originally, she had believed it to be a customer in search of a last minute plant or clippings she sometimes arranged into floral bouquets. However, rather than a customer, her stomach dropped to the floor at the cursed visage of a man in a finely pressed suit.

He wasn't there for a plant, she knew this. Just as she knew many others that had been harassing her and a few other remaining shops on Main Street. A new development wanted to take control of this block and turn it into an impressive condo complex on the rustic street that garnered attention from tourists and locals alike. Wiping her hands off on her apron, which was dusted with dirt and pearlite, Tabitha cleared her throat and approached. If he thought there'd be a mousy garden shop owner, he was sorely mistaken. Tabitha's family had own this storefront for generations and she wasn't about to hand it over, not when she'd fixed it up with her own blood, sweat, and tears. She was a successful business woman, the shop was in stellar condition and thriving despite the pause in society due to COVID.

"Can I help you?" she asked sharply, coming around the polished wooden counter to assert her place.

"Yes, is the owner or manager in?"

The fated question, one that made her blood boil each time the casual, yet scathing glance was set over her, as if a woman in her late twenties couldn't be said person. It happened yet again and Tabitha forced herself not to snort in indignation. "I am her," she replied evenly.

"Wonderful," the man drawled, withdrawing a manila folder from underneath his arm. "As you're likely aware, my company is purchasing property in the vicinity. There are a few stores, this one included, that are refusing to sell. I've come with an offer-" he opened the folder, images of the supposed development and work ushered beneath a contract and a hefty sum with quite a few zeroes.

"Then you would be aware that I, like the other few businesses, are still refusing to sell. Listen, this street prides itself on historical shops and architecture. I know that we're prime water view property, but I'm not selling, and I know for certain that my fellow business owners are just as adamant in our position. I don't need the money," Tabitha didn't touch the paper. He could have added more zeroes and she wouldn't have cared. This was principle, her family's lineage, and she wouldn't be a sell out.

"Please, these prices are negotiable. My company is really eager to develop here and keep to the charming architecture on the street. Won't you consider it? You could always reopen in a much larger shop down the road," the man suggested.

"It wouldn't be on Main Street," Tabitha pointed out. "Look, sir, I've got nothing against you, but I don't appreciate being badgered to sell. I will never sell. Your company should either take what they've got or look elsewhere. Now please, I'm just about to close."

"Nothing is going to change your mind, miss?"

"Nothing," Tabitha assured him, closing the folder and sliding it back over toward him.

Escorting the man to the door, he paused to glance at the fire alarm posted near the entrance. It was a bit old, but the pipes had been updated within the last decade. "Old system here," he commented.

"The shop is as humid as a rainforest, I'm not too worried," Tabitha shrugged, opening the door. Perhaps she should have thought about the oddness of the comment more, but she didn't. A lot of things in the shop were old, considering how long the building had been standing. She had put a lot of money into reinforcing the structure and replacing the old with new so that the beautiful piece of history could be continuously preserved. Shutting the door behind him, she locked the glass door and flipped the sign over to ‘closed’.

There were a few chores to finish up around the shop, to include changing out bug sticky tape and sweeping up dirt. After balancing the register, she locked up the cash, and shut the lights off. Through the back of the store, there was a locked door that led to a staircase, revealing a set of stairs that ascended into her apartment that was situated above the shop.

Her head ached, them pestering at least twice a week to sell her home and livelihood just to relocate. That wasn't it. Aside from the principle of it all, she would also have to find a house and a new store. Who knew if she'd be able to buy it outright or what she'd be getting. Then the stress of moving alongside of wondering if her typical clients would follow her elsewhere. No, it was too much and she wouldn't do it, even if she was the last one on the frontier against this condo company. Maybe if she had some family to help her she would've grudgingly considered it, but already she was spread thin between all her work.

A loud meow greeted her as she pushed open the door to her flat and she smiled, the tension of the day slipping away as a fluffy black cat stood on the arm of her couch and beckoned with his tail to be given attention. Letting out another shouting protest, Tabitha chuckled and brushed her palm over the feline's head, the long hair cat pressing into her hand as she raked down his spine. "I know, I know, I kept you up here all day. I'm sorry Balerion. Bad cat mommy," she hung her smock up and bent down to pick the fluffy monster up, the baby curling into her arms like a babe as he mewed in content. "But you know I'm going to make it up to you. Tomorrow we're going on another trip, aren't we? Hollis is gonna take care of the shop while we're gone."

The plan was to head up to Iceland for the hike and climbing trip that Tabitha had been saving for for years. Balerion was her partner on all escapades, a willing participant in hikes and her little buddy even in rockclimbing as he'd be situated in a special backpack where he'd be fully strapped in. Already the feline had been with her to the Amazon, Alaska and Denali, Scotland, the Azores, and Hawaii. He seemed to love the adventure, which was uncommon for cats, especially given the strenuous conditions they were sometimes subjected to. However, even if Tabitha was miserable, Balerion was always kept warm, dry, and safe. She had friends, but Balerion was her soul mate.

"Let's go through our packing list one more time, we don't want to forget anything," she said, reminding herself more than him as she brought him into the bedroom and plopped him down onto the bed. Balerion flopped down, hanging his meaty paws over the edge as she opened her suitcase and hiking pack to double check the supplies. "Now it'll be summer there, so lots of hours of sunlight, but still quite mild. Want to make certain we're warm enough at night. Shouldn't be as bad as Denali though."

After checking the list thrice more and comparing it to what she had laid out, Tabitha decided that the two of them were ready for the journey tomorrow. Dinner was simple to prevent much to clean before the two of them settled in for the evening, a book on her lap as she re-read through one of her favorite series: A Song of Ice and Fire . The place where she'd gotten Balerion's name from. She barely managed more than a chapter, too excited to board the plane at the crack of dawn to Iceland with her furry companion.

Tugging the blanket up, Balerion curled up by her side, Tabitha set her alarm on her phone and tried to get some shut eye. It was difficult at first, the anticipation clawing at her, but eventually she slipped away from reality. Cascading into a dreamless sleep, she was awoken by the worried yowl of her cat, which roused her. Eyes burning, Tabitha turned over in an attempt to grab her phone to check the time. It wasn't often that Balerion made such an awful noise. Usually when he wasn't feeling well and was going to vomit. However, as she turned on the night lamp, she noticed a thick haze permeating the room. Balerion was no longer beside her, but she could hear his crying, loud and insistent.

Smoke. It was smoke.

"Balerion?" The moment she opened her mouth, she drew in a copious amount of smoke and choked on it. Sputtering, she rolled off the bed and crawled, looking for her pet. "Bale, come here baby. Come here!"

She didn't hear the fire alarms going off. If there was any sort of fire, the alarms should have been ringing. Ducking underneath the bed, she found him cowering in the corner, reaching beneath to drag him out toward her. Fire escape. There wasn't time to think about what had caused the fire, nor where it had originated. Her mind was fully in survival mode. This was the second floor and the ceilings were quite high, her best hope would be utilizing the escape to get as close to the ground as she could before dropping down.

Tabitha made it to the window where the escape was, standing up enough to try and glimpse outside, but was horrified by what she found. There was a glass pane to look through, but a curtain of fire as the flames had consumed the exterior of the structure first. She had replaced a good portion of the interior, but the outside was still the same old shingles. Wherever the fire might have started, it had lanced up around the outside, beginning to eat in through the roof before billeting up through the flooring of her apartment. It was possible that the wet atmosphere of her shop cocooned the apartment temporarily, but in the meanwhile the rest of the older parts of the structure went alight.

Panic consumed her as Tabitha dropped back down to the ground and hoped that maybe the nearby fire department would get inside before either of them perished. Keep low to the ground, try not to breathe in the smoke.

Crawling away from the window and doorway, Tabitha slid next to her bookcase, glancing over at the picture frames and the years of her early twenties depicted in photos of her when she'd left the confines of her small town home to embark on a journey in the military. Those years, while she'd complained a lot about them, had helped put a backbone in her and set up a foundation for schooling and regiment. She still enjoyed rucking-or backpacking as the civilians called it, never quite trading in her boots in.

Her eyes fluttered, a soft hoarse cough parting her lips again as Balerion's yowling quieted and she felt exhausted. Perhaps she could hear the fire trucks in the distance, perhaps she couldn't. Tabitha's eyes shut to the sound of a formation marching and a cadence being called.

#game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #a song of ice and fire fanfic #asoiaf fanfiction #asoiaf fanfic #reincarnation insert #freeform #added lore #the ability to change the future but with a twist #romance is not the main theme #BAMF female OC #buirbaby writes #The Wardens

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iwantthedean · 5 years

Text

A New Fall

Graphic courtesy of @atc74.

Part Five: Empire. Sweet-tart, crisp, juicy.

Summary: Y/N begins to show Jensen the ropes around the farm and town, and a new offer is put on the table. Pairing: None … yet. (But I think we all know where this is going.) Word Count: 2145 Warnings: Set post-Season 15, which I know makes a lot of people sad to think about. Square Filled: This entire series will fill my proposal square for BTZ Bingo.

A/N: Thank you for the continued support! I am loving writing this series :)

Masterlist

Bartholomew Kemp’s office was quickly becoming your least favorite place to visit. Since he had told you that you would have to sell your family’s farm, the bad news had continued to roll your way.

Today, you were visiting after the discussion with your father, letting him know what was going on, that an offer had been made, and that you were likely going to accept it. Your father had cautioned you about accepting the offer, and stated that he would talk to Bartholomew himself. He trusted the old business manager, but he determined that two business minds were better than one. If it meant the slightest possibility that you could keep the place, you were okay with that.

“I’m gathering the paperwork for your father,” Bartholomew informed you, “but in the meantime, you’ve got another, anonymous offer on the property.”

“Another offer?” you frowned. “Why is it anonymous?”

He shrugged. “It came from the bank, and they simply stated that their client wishes to remain anonymous -- they can do that, I suppose.”

You tried for the millionth time not to cry over all of this. “How does it compare to Jensen’s offer?”

“It’s fairly competitive. I’ll send this to your father, and I’ll send copies home for you to look at. How are things going in the meantime?”

“They’re going,” you shrugged. “I -- it’s more personal, I guess, but I made a peace offering to Jensen. He agreed to let me stay through the holidays, although now I guess that depends on which offer we take. In the meantime, I’m going to show him around the place more, how things run and all that. He’s coming over later to help me start prepping for the festival this weekend.”

Bartholomew kept his smile to himself. “Well, that’s a turn of events. Let me make a copy of this, and I’ll send you on your way so you can get ready for company.”

You waited patiently for the necessary documents, wishing with all your might that none of this was actually happening. You were past the stage of believing it had to be a bad dream, but that didn’t stop you from wanting, every now and then, to be past the sale and moving on with your life.

And to add another offer on to the plate? You knew that the land was good, you knew the home was beautiful … you never suspected or expected that there would be more than one offer on the place. As Bartholomew came back with the papers and sent you on your way, you determined that you were going to do some digging and find out who this anonymous buyer was.

* * * * *

Fall Festival preparations started with some simple yard work, Jensen discovered when he arrived at Y/N’s house not long after she had wrapped up her school day. The farmhands would take care of the orchard and the pumpkin patch, for the most part, but she informed Jensen that her family had always done up the house and made it suitable for visitors during the four-day festival.

“There’s half-days at the school Thursday and Friday, since so many families pull their kids out in the afternoon anyway,” Y/N explained while they raked leaves in the front yard. “Friday night is a big chili cook-off, Saturday night is the carnival, and everything wraps up by Sunday afternoon.”

He reached for a sturdy trash bag. Y/N held it open while he started loading in the raked leaves. “Sounds like a good weekend. I’m looking forward to being around for it. Do you get to enjoy much of it?”

Y/N shrugged. “For the most part. I’ll help Kitty at The Farmer’s Stand Thursday and Friday, and Saturday morning, but I always go to the chili cook-off Friday evening. Saturday afternoon we get the most visitors here, so I’ll be around for that. Then the carnival Saturday evening, and puttering around here Sunday.”

Jensen smiled as he dumped more leaves into the bag. He wanted to do things the way she did, wanted to learn how things were done so he wasn’t changing anything if he bought the farm. Maybe part of him wanted to be with her as much as possible, too. He wasn’t sure how to ask to join her without essentially inviting himself, so he kept his mouth shut and helped her finish up with the leaves.

“Now, we bake,” she announced when the bags of leaves were all lined up by the barn. “I took care of the flower beds over the weekend, and I’ll mow when I get home tomorrow.”

Jensen followed her into the house, making sure to wipe his boots on the mat on the back patio. He closed the slider behind him and made a mental note to show up sometime in the morning and do the mowing for her.

He waited patiently while Y/N pulled a myriad of baking supplies down from the cupboards. She was going to make some of everything, she informed him, so that Kitty’s shop could be well-stocked for the weekend.

“Before I go, I’ll type up all these recipes, if you want.” Then, she stopped and frowned. “By the way, have you spoken with Bartholomew recently? Like, today?”

Jensen shook his head and leaned forward on the counter. “No, why?”

“He got another offer on the farm. This person is an anonymous buyer, made their offer through the bank. He said it’s fairly competitive with your offer.”

“I’ll call him in the morning. Which offer do you think you’ll take?”

She looked sadly at her desk and the stack of papers in the middle of it. “I honestly haven’t looked at the new offer yet. For lots of reasons.”

He didn’t have to know her well to know that the subject was upsetting her. Instead of discussing the matter further, he nudged her with his elbow.

“So, what do I have to do to get you to start with those cinnamon rolls for our baking tonight?”

The change in subject succeeded in making Y/N laugh. Jensen grinned too, and listened while she told him how to pick the best apples for baking versus the ones that were better for snacking or salads. They peeled and sliced apples together, then worked on doughs for both the cinnamon rolls and a couple of pies.

By the time their baking endeavors were in the oven, they were both starving. Y/N didn’t feel much like cooking, so Jensen offered to go into town and pick up some takeout. He returned not too much later with a large pizza. He set it on the counter, which Y/N had cleaned up while he was gone.

“How much of a slob would you think I am if I just set the open box on the counter and didn’t bother with plates?” Y/N chuckled.

Jensen smirked. “Wouldn’t bother me any.”

“If you’ll grab us some napkins from the table, I’ll get sodas out of the fridge.”

Within minutes, they were sitting on barstools next to each other, chowing down on the warm, cheesy, meaty pizza. Jensen took the opportunity to look around the house; it was so warm and inviting. The autumn decorations weren’t too much, but they were noticeable and tasteful. While he suspected that much of these traditions had been born of the three generations before her, Y/N had done an excellent job of keeping the house a home.

After they cleaned up the pizza mess and pulled the baked goods from the oven, Jensen decided it was time to go back out to the hotel. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome, as much as he was beginning to love being on the farm.

“Thank you for all of your help,” Y/N offered when she walked him to the front porch.

“I don’t know how much I actually helped, but … well, thanks for teaching me some of the ropes. Same time tomorrow?”

Y/N nodded. “You were help, but the company was nice, too. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jensen lingered for a moment, unsure of what he felt like he was waiting for. Y/N looked at him, waiting for him to say or do something. In the end, he gently squeezed her hand as he placed a kiss on her cheek, then bid her goodnight.

* * * * *

When you recapped the evening for Taylor, her eyes went wide and she looked at you like you were an idiot.

“Y/N! He’s into you!”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. The age difference alone has got to make him out of my league. Not to mention, I’m a schoolteacher from Middle-of-Nowhere, Massachusetts, and he’s an actor.”

“The age difference isn’t really that big, and,” she swallowed the bite of salad that had been stuffed in her cheek, “you are just as eligible as anyone else, Y/N/N. I think you forget that sometimes.”

You pursed your lips. “Maybe with the new offer, he’s trying to sweeten me up so he can buy the place.”

Taylor shook her head, adamant that this newfound epiphany of hers was accurate. “He held your hand in the orchard, he’s hanging out with you all the time, the goodbye last night -- this isn’t about the farm. It’s about you.”

As you took a bite of leftover pizza, you thought over your friend’s theory. You supposed you could see where she would see all of that, but you still weren’t buying it.

“We’ll see, when all is said and done,” Taylor shrugged. She was so confident she was right, but you didn’t even want to hope.

Hell, you didn’t even want to admit that you were into Jensen, too.

* * * * *

Right after school let out and all of the kids had been picked up or sent home on the bus, you drove over to The Farmer’s Stand. A crowd was already starting to gather; you took that as a good sign.

“Where do you want me to start, Ms. Kitty?”

She waved you over to the cash register. “I’d like to get out from behind this counter for a while, if you don’t mind. Mingle with people.”

“No, I don’t mind.”

She gave you a hug before going to walk the floor of the little market. You returned it, then set down on the stool behind the counter, waiting for customers to bring up their goods for purchase. Ms. Kitty had thought ahead and had a price list set out for you; you’d run the register before, so you were pretty set in your job for the afternoon.

Stephen, Ms. Kitty’s son, came in a couple hours after you. He frowned when he saw you sitting behind the counter, but masked the expression quickly.

“I guess I forgot the festival was starting already,” he mumbled.

The man was a few years older than you, but had grown up in town just as you had -- but had still managed to forget the festival? You’d never understand living in a place like this and not taking some pride in the town’s traditions.

“All the way through Sunday,” you commented.

“You going to be here everyday?”

No, your brow knitted into a frown. “Today, tomorrow, and Saturday morning. Just like my family has always done. Is that a problem?”

Before Stephen could reply, someone else spoke up. “I hope it’s not -- and I hope it’s not a problem that I plan to be here with her. Gotta learn somehow.”

Your frown immediately changed to a smile when you saw that Jensen had arrived. He found another stool to set next to you. Stephen disappeared into the back office, not bothering to greet Jensen or converse any further.

“He’s pleasant,” Jensen commented.

“Isn’t he?” you chuckled. “I’ve never understood how a mother like Ms. Kitty could have a son like Stephen. He doesn’t seem to care much about the town at all.”

“Thank goodness for you two women, to balance out people like him then.”

You rewarded his comment with a smile -- one that grew when he smiled back, and the afternoon sun lit up his eyes, making them a brighter shade of green than they already were.

“You okay?”

You hadn’t realized you’d been staring until Jensen waved a hand in front of your face. “Yeah, I’m good. Sorry.”

A customer coming to the counter to make a purchase provided a timely rescue. You showed Jensen the price list and how to work the register while you rang up the young family.

The distraction was brief, however, and as soon as Jensen struck conversation up with you again, your heart was pitter-pattering in your chest. You wanted to blame it on Taylor and the conversation you’d had with her earlier in the day, but you knew that these feelings were all your own.

* * * * * * * * * *

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prorevenge · 5 years

Text

My wannabe fashionista coworker always threw shade at me for being frumpy. She looked frumpier, unemployed!

TL;DR at the bottom

*******

I worked at a popular, high end clothing store while I was in graduate school (I'm an engineer). I won't name the brand, but it's the sort that charged $50 for a pair of male boxer briefs, $200 for a lady's fancy bra, or $400 or more for a pair of jeans, $1,000 or more for those skinny suits that hip guys wear to their job, where the hems of their pants reveal that they're wearing loafers without socks.

The clothes there weren't really my style but the starting pay was two dollars higher than minimum wage, and higher than most of the other, surrounding stores. This was at a rich people shopping center, where lots of people who shop there are wannabe celebrities and constant selfie-takers.

I was surprised to get hired there, but was relieved that I wouldn't have to really do customer service, as I worked only in the stock room. I'd put out clothes on the shelves and racks before and after closing, and also arrange everything in the back to make it organized. I was also trained so that in emergency situations I could cover register if we were short handed, so that the regular associates could go on break.

I was hardly seen by customers, but I still had to wear the clothes the store sold, to promote the image of the company. I didn't, thankfully, have to wear the dainty little suits, but I did sport the jeans and other casual things we sold.

It was a job. I didn't love it and I didn't hate it. I just worked, took my pay, went to school, and went home.

At least that's the way it was for two months.

After those two months, "Jessica" began to work during the same hours as me. She was about my age (I was 22), maybe twenty five, tops. She didn't work in the stock room (it was just me back there, with one or two other college guys), but worked the front. She wasn't the manager, or even a supervisor, but she SWORE she was in charge of me.

She made it known to everyone, even customers, that she graduated with an associates degree in fashion marketing from FIDM. I suppose it's a big deal but I was thinking girl if you're a college graduate why are you bragging about it as if it has something to do with you folding jeans and ringing people up at the register? She talked like she was fashion expert and in the "fashion industry," and would talk about the New York or Paris fashion weeks in a familiar way that implied that she just got of the plane after attending these events personally. You know the type, the kind that talks about famous fashion designers by their first name, as if they knew them.

Well she always criticized the way I wore the jeans because I didn't tuck in my T-shirt like the mannequin, or that I work Chuck Taylors on my feet instead of the little leather Sperry Topsiders knockoffs we sold for $300.

We were given a clothing allowance as employees. As a stockperson, I was allowed three complete outfits for free, everything from tops, to underear, to socks, and pants (but not shoes). If I wanted more and it was specifically for wearing at the store, I could mark it as a "uniform purchase" and have the price deducted from my check a little at a time. This was advantageous because they wouldn't charge you tax for them, and charge you only a third of the retail price.

Uniform Purchase was distinctly separate from "Store Discount," for which we also received a percentage off, but it wasn't the incredible 66% discount we got for uniform purchases.

Jessica would snicker at me when I took over register for someone, shake her head or roll her eyes at me as if I looked really ugly. I'm always thinking, whatever girl, you wannabe model you aren't even hot and you're not the boss, who are you? But I held my tongue.

She'd also complain if I was supposedly not fast enough in grabbing a size medium from the back because a customer is requesting the dress and all we have on the floor are smalls and larges. She'd trash me to the customer and when I showed up would sarcastically say "finally!" and turn to the customer with a "see what I have to put up with?" expression.

She was especially mean if any customers got chatty with me and treated me with respect. And if those customers were female and were getting flirty with me, Jessica would be a total cockblock.

The real manager, Paula, had their own issues to deal with beyond petty bickering between a stockboy and an entry level sales associate with delusions of "Project Runway" grandeur. The assistant manager, another fashion industry wannabe named "Heather," was just like Jessica, but thankfully I hardly interacted with her. According to my coworkers, Heather was just as bad as Jessica.

Even though I didn't plan on making this store my career, and even though Jessica didn't bother me THAT much, I thought it won't hurt to get this bitch fired.

To her face, I'd just smile and act like I was following her orders happily, or didn't mind when she would point at me rudely, or snap her fingers at me like she was calling a dog.

Jessica would always hear a directive from one of the managers, and then go around telling the other employees what to do, as if they didn't have ears. She'd try to act as if it was HER directive. LOL.

Her coworkers who were the same "rank" as her would sometimes vent to me about how Jessica acted like she was in charge, when in some cases she had even less time in the company than other employees on the floor.

I noticed that when I arranged clothes in back, especially big ticket, desirable clothes that were seen in magazines in our company's advertisement campaigns, she'd "order" me to set aside things in her size.

I'd do it, because it's my job to set aside things if employees want to buy them outright at a discount or put it as a uniform purchase.

Whenever an employee was on register (really, a big Ipad with a cash drawer beneath), you could tap in a code and the register would show a rundown of every non-customer transaction that employees performed that day, and with a few more keystrokes, their transactions over MANY days. The managers knew this code, of course, and I'll assume Jessica knew the code too because Heather shared the code with her.

I WASN'T supposed to know the code, but I did, because there's a mirror in the wall behind the register, and I was re-stocking paper handbags behind Heather when I saw her tap in her four digit code. She assumed I was stupid and didn't understand the incredibly complex wizardry that is a two year old, low-end spec Ipad.

I knew Jessica was getting rung up for "uniform purchases" when she should have been getting rung up for regular employee discount.

She assumed that when I set aside all those expensive items for her, that I was too dumb to know what she was doing, just because I might have something of a mouth breather countenance.

Even if I look on the surface like a fugitive from the trailer park, something told me Jessica wasn't going to be using $800 heels, a $500 dress, and $1200 motorcycle jacket while working at the store.

And anyway, I asked around. No one saw Jessica wearing any of the truly fancy clothes she bought at our store at what the other employees assumed was simply a regular employee discount.

I thought maybe she was being honest, too. It WAS possible, after all, because I didn't always work with her. Maybe she wore evening dresses to work on her other shifts? Whatever, I decided to make sure.

One time when everyone was busy doing other stuff and the store had to resort to putting me on the register, I typed in Heather's code and pulled up Jessica's purchases. As I suspected, she had bought thousands of dollars worth of our store's best items, but put them all as "uniform purchases" and not at her regular discount.

So I swiped "print" and the register switches from the regular tape to the 8.5"x11" printer beneath the counter, and a complete rundown of all of Jessica's purchases come out.

I highlight all the most expensive items that she was charged for "uniform purchase" (such as, her $1200 jacket would only be $300, and even that was tax free and she got to pay it little by little).

I knew that my manager, Paula, wasn't exactly a nuclear physicist and she was more interested in moving up the chain of command to be working at a job higher than store manager in the company, so as long as her store's sales numbers looked good she didn't care what her assistant Heather did.

Except, if it was a violation of company policy that might reflect badly on her.

I knew Heather was in on Jessica's scam because you're not allowed to ring yourself up at the store, you have to have someone else do it, and none of the other associates would want to conspire with her for fear of getting fired or worse.

To make sure, I printed HEATHER's purchase history too. I didn't see Heather as often as I saw Jessica, but I could also see really glaring red flags on her purchase report. Like, she bought a $900 nightclub dress as a uniform purchase, which I'm quite sure she never wore to work. I did the same highlighting on suspicious items as I did with Jessica's.

Then, because none of this was REALLY my business, I was just a part time asshole who worked in the stockroom, I waited for the most fun opportunity to lower the boom.

Jessica got on her little bluetooth earpiece that she wears on he sales floor that she thinks makes her look like a VIP, and says, "OP, I'm going to need XXX in a size small, customer waiting, get the lead out." So I bring the item, and Jessica says I'm "not passing muster." I thought wow Jessica you sounded really 1940s there, you wannabe pinup girl LOL.

After the customer leaves, Jessica says, "I'm going to need you to go on a trash run and sweep out the receiving bay. And I need you to cover Annie's lunch."

I laugh and tell her, "who died and made you supervisor, you fucking headass burnout?"

She looks like she was the fucking Crypt Keeper for a second and that she wanted to punch me, before she remembered that I'm 6'2" and outweigh her by a hundred pounds.

She hisses, "You are SO fired, you fucking geek. Heather's going to hear about this."

I tell her, "Fuck you, I'm going to lunch."

And I clock out and leave.

When I come back, I see Jessica immediately get on her little earpiece.

Before I even reach the stock room, Heather is there, and the manager Paula intercept me.

"Annie, can you cover register? We have an urgent matter to deal with."

I know I'm supposed to be fired.

Which is why, during my lunch, I went to the copy place and made PDF scans of the printouts I made for Jessica and Heather. I had all the corporate bigshots' emails. They were in the new hire handbook all of us get when we start working. I saved a draft to each but didn't hit SEND yet. I had the printouts as attachements. In the BODY of my email, I described exactly what had been going on. I did send ONE email. And that was to Paula the manager, herself.

But I didn't press SEND until we were on our way to the employee break room.

Paula tells me, "OP, Heather sent me a text that says you were verbally abusive to Jessica. Heather herself says that Jessica has complained to her on numerous occasions that you are a substandard employee, and only her own, personal kindness has presented her from firing you. I came in myself to see if you have anything to say in order to save your job."

It's been a couple of years so of course that can't be exactly what she said, but it was something typical and rehearsed and faux-professional that any low-level boss would say when trying to sound important.

I said I didn't have anything to say in my defense, and that in fact I quit.

Jessica and Heather looked surprised, but then Jessica started smiling.

Paula looked disappointed, and said, "I'm very sorry to hear you say that. You may collect your last..."

"Oh, but before I go, I think you should look at these printouts. I know you don't spend a lot of time studying this stuff, but I thought you might find it interesting. It's the last three months of Jessica's and Heather's employee purchases. Notice how they always ring each other up, and notice all that stuff they're claiming to use as uniforms. If you're having trouble understanding it, I explained it in an email I sent to your cellphone. You should have it already, if you check.

I have the same email ready to go to Dan and Pam and Kimberly and Victor and Kevin but I haven't sent it in yet. I was hoping you could look it over and email me back when you're ready, I mean if you want me to edit anything."

Then I got up and left.

Later that afternoon, my phone was ringing.

It was Paula.

She was practically crying, telling me, please don't send those emails, "I've fired Heather and Jessica. They're GONE. And please don't quit. Please don't tell anyone about--"

I tell her to relax.

I already quit. And I'm keeping my mouth shut.

A few days later, I showed up for my final check. I learned from one of the sales associates that corporate Loss Prevention was called in (our corporate office is only a few miles from the retail location) to interview both Heather and Jessica about their fraud.

In lieu of arrest and heavy fines for what amounted to outright theft and fraud, they were simply fired and unable to use the company as a reference, and due to being fired for cause, could not file for unemployment.

Paula was actually in the store that day, and practically ran to me to thank me for "keeping this scandal at a store level. It's been handled."

I told her no problem. What I didn't tell her was that I never did delete those drafts.

She offered me a reward of free merchandise.

No thanks.

I'm going to look awfully silly in those dainty little suits at my super cool new job of working at Sizzler.

It all ended okay.

A year later I finished my degree, and now I'm doing what I really want to do. Except now at my job, guess what we have to wear. Yeah. Dainty little suits.

I wear socks, though.

I would have never torpedoed Heather and Jessica if they just left me alone to do my job in peace, and didn't try to feel big and important at my expense.

I would have left them to live in their self-medicating lies, live and let live.

Other than some difficult customers, people like Heather and Jessica are what make working retail such a nightmare for so many.

And that's why I feel no guilt about destroying them.

I'm sure Jessica had lots to talk about at that year's Milan Fashion Week.

Hold this L, bitch.

****************

TL;DR: I was stockboy at a fancy clothes store. A low level associate would always boss me around and call me stupid even though she wasn't in charge. I found out she was stealing from the store. I was mean to her on purpose so that I'd be called in to a manager meeting to be fired. I quit, and presented proof to the manager that the associate and the assistant manager were both thieves. They both got fired. I began work at Sizzler.

(source) story by (/u/SaggingSkinnyJeans)

#prorevenge #by /u/SaggingSkinnyJeans #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

380 notes · View notes

for-ests · 5 years

Text

The Tulips That Nobody Asked For- Stefan Butler Imagine

[Your parents own the local flower shop, and you work these almost everyday. Stefan comes in only to visit you and finally gains the courage to ask you out after his intentions become clear]

Word count: 1,485

Warnings: none, just a lot of fluff (and cheese)

___________________

At the sound of the warning chime, you lifted your head from the cash register. It was growing late in the day, almost time to close up shop completely. It had been a long Sunday afternoon. Oddly enough, that was your business’s busiest day.

Now that you were 19, your mother trusted you enough to close up at night. The evening was always slower than her day shifts, but regardless, you were happy to help and serve the community. Working alone in the corner side shop might seem dull to others, but to you, it was therapeutic. It was nice to focus on the well-being of the plants, to arrange certain species and make them presentable. It was your mother’s passion to convey emotions from the plants that people were too afraid to admit. You only hoped to inherit such an adoration.

The shop was everything you had ever wanted to own someday. It was in the perfect location, already decorated from head to toe with plants that were older than you. It was peaceful to sit and work on your homework everyday after college, casually watering them when they were dry, and arranging the ordered bouquets for the upcoming day.

But the customers that greeted you everyday was your favorite perk.

You heard footsteps sound against the old hardwood floors. They creaked under the lone person’s weight. “Good Evening!” You chirped in acknowledgement, lifting your head as their shadow cast across the store. The sun was setting at a low angle, the entire store lighting up from the reflection of the storefront glass windows.

Most times, you knew the people purchasing gardening equipment or plants from the store. It was lovely to have so many locals supporting your family’s business, and you always tried to remember friendly faces.

Yet of course, one particular face always caused you to blush. A local boy named Stefan Butler, one that you had known since high school.

“Hi, Y/N.” Stefan’s voice sounded quietly from the potted plant section.

“Stefan?” You lifted your head in surprise. What could he possibly need? You had checked him out only the day before. He claimed his grandmother was obsessed with tulips, and had been in town for the past couple days. Even you knew she couldn’t possible want another bouquet, bu nevertheless, you would not turn down more business. “I’m about to close up, what can I get you?”

The brunette came into view with a shy smile upon his lips. He looked as handsome as always. “Um..” He looked around, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “That pot.” He pointed to the one behind you on the shelf.

You glanced at the item, almost rolling your eyes. From all the conversations you had shared with Stefan, you knew he did not own any potted plants. “Does your Grandma want to plant the tulips?”

Stefan met your eyes cautiously, biting his lip to keep himself from smiling. He knew you had caught him in a lie, because the Tulips he purchased from you were not meant to be planted. “Y-yeah.” he said, trying to not be too obvious that he could tell you were not buying his story any longer.

“Cute.” You chuckled, turning away from the boy to grab the red painted pot he supposedly wanted. “How are you? How’s the game?” You asked, knowing he had come from the direction of the Tuckersoft building.

“I’m good.” Stefan rocked back and forth on his feet. “The game is going pretty smoothly. “It’s taking up most of my free time.”

“I bet your grandma’s quite jealous.” You laid out wrapping paper on the counter. “Is that why you keep coming? To make up for it?”

Stefan blushed, averting his gaze. “Yeah. My dad keeps sending me.”

“Mhm.” You nodded, bending the paper so its crackling filled the silence the radio couldn’t reach. You thought the situation was funny, and you were genuinely flattered that he had to make up an excuse to come and see you. You enjoyed his presence, even if he was quiet and reserved.

“I’m gonna see if there’s anything else... that my grandmother wants.” Stefan smiled, leaving the counter to take a look around the store. You watched him inspect the flowers for sale, his posture relaxing when he took a sniff of the display. Thinking about how adorable he looked, you tried your best to make the present look as wonderful as it could. But you were having trouble with it. You knew Stefan wasn’t intending to make you flustered, yet there was an unspoken tension between the two of you.

“Did you make these bouquets?” He asked. A blush crept along your cheeks as you felt his eyes on you.

“Yeah, this morning.” You chuckled, delighted that Stefan was interested in them. Even if he was pretending.

“Cool.” The boy looked at the price tags of the daisies and sighed.

You were fond of him, undeniably so. You wanted to see him outside of your workplace even if it was just as friends. That would have been enough for you, but something in the way Stefan moved told you there was an underlying intention with his visits. Letting that thought cross your mind, you gained the courage to confront him.

Once he came back into view, you lifted your head. “You know Stefan, you don’t need to buy something to come visit me.”

Stefan withdrew his hand from the displayed daisies at your words. He looked over at you cautiously, trying to meet your stare with equal confidence. “Is it that obvious?” He chuckled nervously, fiddling with his hands as he stepped back towards the counter.

“Maybe not, if your excuse was more plausible.” You grinned, trying to reassure him that you had accepted his unspoken advances. Stefan was trying, and that was all that really mattered.

You thought it was sweet that he was working up the courage to talk with you. He had been coming more often in past two weeks than your mother’s regular customers. By now, you thought it was reasonable to give him a push to finally confront it.

You had your own problems with confidence. You were too shy to make your own moves, and you were relieved to finally have this conversation. You secretly had the biggest crush on him. Even your mother knew about it.

“I’m sorry.” Stefan sighed, eyes flickering to the half wrapped gift on the counter. “You are… just so out of my league that I didn’t know how…” He gestured frantically, losing his breath when he locked eyes with you.

Stefan was surprised to see you blushing. You giggled at his wide eyes, your heart swelling with affection. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

A smile of pure relief cracked across his face. “Oh, good.” He breathed as a comfortable silence fell between the two of you. You rolled your eyes at his stunted conversation skills. Was he still not getting the hint?

“Well?” You tilted your head. “Is there anything you’d like to ask me?”

Stefan stood up straighter. “Yeah, um yes.” He cleared his throat, grateful that you were being patient with him. “I’ve been meaning to ask… for the last two weeks…” He faltered slightly as he looked back at your expecting smile. “If you would like to go on a date with me.”

You opened your mouth to reply-

“And of course I’ll be paying.” He interrupted. “For the both of us.”

“Sounds wonderful.” You studied his expression as he replied. Stefan’s whole face beamed with a newfound confidence. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” The boy began, unsure of how to properly weave together the complexity of his feelings. “Also...you look pretty. I’ve been meaning to tell you that.”

The slightest compliment from his caused you to blush madly. “T-thank you, Stefan.” You said, glancing back down at the item he intended to purchase. You were trying your hardest to not blush like crazy. Everything he did was so charming, even if he was struggling to get the confessions out.

“Anyways,” You tittered to relive the nerves that had built up in your chest. “Would you like to take some tulips home to your non-existent grandmother?”

“She does exist!” Stefan defended sheepishly. “She’s just not in town.”

“Knew it all along.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“Well, I know I caught you at a bad time.” He apologized.

You waved his comment away. You were closing up shop but it was not a bother. You were overjoyed to be having this conversation. One that you had been wishing for.

“Come back tomorrow and we can plan it better, yeah?” You finished cleaning up the counter, setting the pot back on the shelf.

“Or…” Stefan turned to look outside at the setting sun. “I could walk you home?”

You blushed. “I would like that very much.”

#stefan butler x reader #stefan butler imagine #bandersnatch #fionn whitehead #fionn whitehead x reader

294 notes · View notes

vminni · 5 years

Text

Coffee Shops and Clichés

“What do you think is a bigger fanfic cliché?” Jisung burst into Woojin’s room, ignoring his friend’s groan of protest at his loud voice. “Falling in love with a barista at a coffee shop or a florist?”

“I think I told you not to come into my room without knocking,” Woojin spun around in his desk chair and threw a pen at Jisung’s head, which the younger boy easily avoided. “Barista. Why?”

“It’s for my final paper for my research writing class.” Jisung dramatically spread his hands, “Fanfic Cliché: Possibility or Pure Fantasy?”

“I don’t think that’s the kind of research you’re supposed to be doing.”

Jisung waved him off with a flick of his wrist, “I talked to my professor already. She said it sounded interesting and told me it was fine. I just need to find a test subject. Hyunjin would probably know someone.”

“Great,” Woojin got out of his chair and crossed the room to his friend, nudging him towards the door. “Go bother him and leave me alone.”

“Rude,” Jisung huffed, but he allowed himself to be ushered out of Woojin’s room. He fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed Hyunjin, flopping down on the couch as it rang.

“Sup?”

“What coffee shop near campus has the hottest barista?”

“The Beanery,” Hyunjin answered immediately. “It’s two blocks off campus. Right by the record store Chan works at.” “Thank you so much for your contribution to my project. I’m citing you as a source in the final paper.”

“What are you talki…” Jisung hung up the phone in the middle of Hyunjin’s sentence, choosing instead of pull up ao3. Time to do some more research.

Jisung had decided that this paper was more important than anything else currently going on in his life, and therefore had made the decision to skip all of his classes and go sit in the coffee shop that Hyunjin had recommended for the entire day.

“I need you to know that I don’t support this,” Woojin muttered, rolling his eyes as Jisung preened in front of the mirror. “I also don’t think it’s going to work.”

Jisung ignored him, “How do I look? Leather jacket is super cliché, right?”

The younger boy was sporting torn black skinny jeans, a low cut white v neck and a distressed leather jacket paired with high top black Converse. Two chains dangled from his left ear and a hoop from his right, his hair mussed just enough to look sexy without looking like any effort had been wasted.

“Do you think I should put on some eyeliner?”

“I think you should go to class and not be an idiot, but you’re not going to listen to me anyway. You look fine, don’t bother with the eyeliner.”

“If I bring you back a pastry from the coffee shop, will that help your attitude?” Jisung huffed, opening the door to their shared apartment and letting Woojin step out first. “As my best friend, you should be more supportive.”

“I’m not your best friend,” Woojin rolled his eyes. “Felix is.”

“Well, Felix went back to Australia for a few months, so you are my stand-in best friend and I need you to be nicer to me.”

“You’re gorgeous, the barista is going to take one look at you and instantly fall in love. He’ll write his number and a cliché little message on your coffee cup and not only will your paper be a huge success, but you’ll also have a hot boyfriend,” Woojin deadpanned. “How’s that?”

“Better, thank you,” Jisung pulled up the directions to the coffee shop on his phone as they stepped outside. “I’ll keep you updated.”

Woojin sighed as they parted ways, “For the love of god, please don’t.”

When Jisung arrived at the small coffee shop, he took a peek in through the window and noted that the barista behind the counter was a girl. A pretty girl, but not what he was looking for.

“It’s eight in the morning, why are you calling me?” Hyunjin’s groggy voice crackled through the phone. “You know I don’t have class until two on Mondays.”

“The hot barista. Boy or girl?” “Boy. I know you’re gay, Jisung. I wouldn’t have sent you to stare at a girl.”

“Just making sure,” Jisung hitched a foot up against the wall of the building and leaned back. “Do you happen to know if he’s single? And likes boys?” “I don’t know anything about him.” Jisung could practically hear Hyunjin scrubbing his face in frustration, “I just know he’s hot. I thought that’s all you wanted.”

“Well, I’m trying to fall in love. So I do kinda need him to be hot, single and ready to mingle. With me.”

“I would ask what’s going on, but it’s too early to deal with you. Please call me back at a more reasonable hour and explain.”

“Useless,” Jisung muttered as Hyunjin hung up. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and wandered away from the coffee shop’s storefront, stopping when he reached the record shop where Chan worked.

It didn’t open until nine, but he could see his friend inside, a stack of records in his arms. Jisung banged on the door until Chan stomped over and cracked it.

“We aren’t open.”

“I know,” Jisung tried to slip inside anyway, but Chan was too strong. He couldn’t get the door open enough to pass through. He let his lips droop down into a pout, “Fine, if you won’t let me in, can you at least answer a question for me?”

“What’s up?” “The coffee shop over there,” Jisung gestured vaguely behind him. “Do you know anything about the baristas that work there? Specifically a hot male barista?” Chan rolled his eyes, “Dude, you know I don’t drink coffee.”

“Coffee shops don’t just sell coffee,” Jisung huffed. “I don’t know, maybe you’ve bought a scone from them or something? Or maybe the baristas shop here?” “Fine, there’s one guy that works there that comes over here a lot. I imagine that’s who you’re asking about. His name is Minho. He occasionally buys some Lady Gaga stuff.”

“This is why you’re my favorite,” Jisung chirped, pressing up onto his toes so he could smack a loud kiss off Chan’s cheek. “Thank you!”

Chan scrubbed at his cheek, his grip on the door relaxing, “Was that helpful information?” “Very helpful!” Jisung bounced in place, throwing a glance over his shoulder at the coffee shop. “One more question, do you know when he normally works?”

“Not until later. He usually comes over here on his break, around two. He probably starts at eleven or twelve.”

Jisung grinned and took advantage of Chan’s relaxed state to push inside, ducking under the other boy’s outstretched arm, “Looks like you’re stuck with me until then.”

Jisung entered the coffee shop at a quarter after twelve, running a hand through his hair as he casually sauntered his way up to the counter. He offered a smirk to the pretty boy stationed there, a smirk that said ‘yes, I am hot and yes, I do know it.’

The barista just rolled his eyes, “Hi, what can I get for you today?”

Jisung tilted his head to the side as he surveyed the menu, feeling the chains that dangled from his ear graze his jawline. He’d spent the last half hour practicing that move in the bathroom of the record shop after Chan had locked him in there for being too annoying. He had it down to an art.

“I’ll take a medium caramel macchiato and your number.”

Minho huffed out a laugh and keyed the order into the register, “The coffee will be 2.50. My number is gonna cost you a lot more than that.”

“That’s a price I’m willing to pay, baby,” Jisung winked, handing over the cash and making sure his fingers brushed against Minho’s as he did so.

The older boy just rolled his eyes again and grabbed a cup, marker hovering over the cardboard, “And what’s your name?”

“Just describe me,” Jisung dropped a few bills into the tip jar on the counter and winked for a second time. “I”ll know who you mean.”

Jisung wandered over to the front window as he waited for his order, making sure to stand at an angle that offered Minho the best view of his profile. Just in case he was looking. “I have one caramel macchiato for ‘the baby playing dress up in his dad’s leather jacket.’”

Jisung stomped back up to the front of the shop and glared at Minho as he took the coffee from his hand, “Rude.”

Minho laughed, a bright happy sound that shot straight to Jisung’s heart, “You said to describe you. I’m just calling it like I see it.”

Jisung was sitting on the counter of the record shop, sucking on a lollipop that Chan had given him to shut him up, when Minho entered a few hours later.

Jisung smirked around the stick in his mouth and quirked an eyebrow at the older boy, “Fancy seeing you here, babe.”

Minho ignored him, choosing instead to flip through a bin of records as if Jisung hadn’t spoken. Jisung pouted slightly, then hopped off the counter and crossed over to the other boy. He draped an arm over Minho’s shoulder and leaned in, looking at the records the boy was browsing, “Looking for anything in particular?”

Minho pinched the sleeve of Jisung’s jacket with two fingers and lifted his arm off him, as if it was a dirty tissue, “Don’t you have a kindergarten class to be attending? Or is it bring your five year old to work day today?” Chan poked his head out of the back room, “Jisung, stop harassing customers. Minho, be nice to Jisung, he’s sensitive.”

“I am not sensitive,” Jisung huffed, stepping away from the barista so he could flip Chan off.

Minho stifled a laugh in the sleeve of his shirt, turning away from the bin, “Definitely sensitive.”

“I’d be less sensitive if you’d give me your number,” Jisung swirled the lollipop around his mouth before pulling it out with a loud pop and drawing Minho’s eyes to his lips. “What do you say?” “I say you aren’t my type,” Minho’s gaze dropped to Jisung’s chest and he reached out to poke him lightly. “Prefer a little more something there, if you get what I mean.”

Jisung’s eyes widened in horror and he stepped back, red creeping its way into his cheeks, “I’m really sorry. Chan said you liked Lady Gaga and I just thought…”

“Stereotyping me, huh?” Minho grinned, “I’m just messing with you. I am gay. But you still aren’t my type.”

Jisung’s pout returned, “Why not?” Minho backed towards the door and offered the younger boy a wink and a teasing grin, “I don’t date boys who are prettier than me.”

Now that he knew Minho’s schedule, Jisung was able to attend his classes and still work on winning over the other boy. He showed up at the coffee shop a little after noon, once again rocking the leather jacket Minho had made fun of. He figured that could be their thing, Minho’s joking and his jacket.

After gathering opinions from all his friends on Minho’s parting words from the day before Jisung had decided that Minho was most definitely flirting with him and would be delighted to see him again.

Jisung bit down on his bottom lip a few times as he pushed into the coffee shop, hoping to make his mouth look that much more kissable. Minho was leaning on the counter when he entered, and the older boy straightened for a second before recognizing Jisung and relaxing once again.

“Afternoon, babe,” Jisung drawled, snatching a coffee stirrer from the basket on the counter and perching it between his lips. “Same as yesterday please.”

“What makes you think I remember what you got yesterday?” Minho reached over and grabbed the stirrer from Jisung’s mouth, tossing it in the trash behind him. “Also stop trying to be sexy, it’s not working.”

“Medium caramel macchiato,” Jisung drummed his ring covered fingers on top of the counter as Minho punched it into the register. “So if you don’t like pretty boys, what kind of boys do you like? Because I can totally be that.”

“Boys who aren’t using me as a test subject for a school paper, for starters.”

A flush spread up Jisung’s cheeks from his neck and he avoided Minho’s gaze, flicking at a few stray grains of sugar that littered the countertop, “Who told you that?”

“Chan.”

“But I didn’t even tell Chan about the paper.” A look of realization crossed his face, “Woojin probably told him. But I can’t believe he told you. What a traitor. Why did he tell you anyway?”

It was Minho’s turn to blush and he averted his attention back to the register, randomly punching at some keys, “No reason.”

“You went back and asked him about me,” Jisung crooned, leaning over so he could poke a finger to Minho’s flushed cheeks. “You are interested.”

Minho slapped his hand away, “Not anymore, I’m not. You were just going to use me.”

“Forget the paper. The paper is in the trash. I’ll fail research writing, it’s fine.”

Minho laughed softly, his fingers falling to play with the hem of his shirt. He looked up a Jisung from under lowered lashes, his cheeks still dusted a pretty pink, “You’re actually interested in me?” “Well, yeah,” Jisung furrowed his brow, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I’d like to,” Jisung fished his phone out of his pocket and held it out to Minho with puppy dog eyes. “May I please have your phone number?”

Minho took it with a sigh, “You’re lucky you’re so cute.”

“So what did you end up writing your paper on anyway?” Minho asked, carding his fingers through Jisung’s dark hair. They were lying tangled on Jisung’s couch, a movie playing softly in the background.

“What paper?” Jisung twisted around to brush a few kisses along the underside of his boyfriend’s jaw, enjoying the way the older boy’s skin heated under his touch.

“You know, the fanfic paper. For your researching writing class. The reason we met a month ago.”

Jisung bolted up, detangling himself from Minho and dropping unceremoniously to the ground, “Oh my god, I totally forgot about it. Shit, that’s due tomorrow.” “You’re an absolute idiot,” Minho sighed fondly as Jisung snatched his laptop off the table and flipped it open, panic written all over his face. “Write it about me, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Jisung gnawed on his bottom lip and opened word, fingers hovering over the keys. “I promised you I wouldn’t.” “Yeah, well, that was before. It’s fine.”

“Before what?” Jisung had already begun to type, but he turned back to look at his boyfriend with a question in his eyes.

“Before we proved it true,” Minho wrapped his arms around the younger boy’s shoulder and planted a kiss on the top of his head. “It is possible to fall in love in a coffee shop.”

#minsung #stray kids #han jisung #lee know #hoping to write consistently enough to be able to post twice a week #but i usually get carried away and write too much all at once and burn myself out and avoiding writing for years

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mgppapermillcompany · 2 years

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Mondi Rotatrim Paper Manufacturer Thailand:-https://bit.ly/3zTTP6q

#buy cash register paper rolls at best prices #sack kraft paper roll supplier Thailand

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stylesgalaxy · 5 years

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mastermind; chapter 3

A car zips past me as I run across the street. I ignore it's angry honk and push through the doors to the art shop. It was a bit far from the campus and in the side of town I wasn't very familiar with. Julia and I lived in the opposite side. But I heard from a classmate that this one has the best prices.

A chime rings when I open the door but no one is at the counter to greet me. I don't mind, I start looking for what I need quickly. My calligraphy prints were not satisfactory, apparently, but the professor was letting me resubmit them. I look down the shelf against the wall but it's all canvases. I walk further into the store to check out the other aisles.

"Can I help you?" a voice startles me. I scream and turn around, holding my hand to my chest. The boy in front of me has a very handsome, very familiar face. His dark hair falls in strands over his light brown eyes, almost making me swoon.

"Hi," I say uncertainly. Zayn happened to be an art major as well, I've seen him a few times in big lectures but we've never had any classes together.

"I know you..." he says with a light smile. "You're that hot girl's friend. Julia?"

"Yes," I sigh. I'm the hot girl's friend.

"I'm Zayn, what's your name again?"

I didn't expect him to remember my name, he was very drunk and we only spoke once before I gave Julia the green light. I don't remember why I liked him so much.

"I'm Aria," I answer.

"Ah, nice name. What is it your looking for? I can help you," he says with a polite smile.

"You work here?" I ask in surprise.

He nods.

"I'm looking for ink, silver if you have."

"RIght this way."

Zayn leads me through the store to where they keep the calligraphy supplies and the Windsor & Newton inks. I'm pleasantly surprised to find that it's $2.50 for a bottle and immediately begin hoarding every colour I like. Zayn finds this hilarious, I make him show me the pens. I choose a thin-tipped one that he says is better quality than the other brands. I'm completely immersed in this shop and every thing they have because for once, I can afford these things.

It's been a good two hours before I walk up to the register to cash out. I didn't even notice how much time had gone by because Zayn was so easy to talk to and actually quite funny.

"And your total is... $84.76," he says after ringing up every thing. I happily pull out my credit card to pay. I couldn't believe how much I got for $84. "I trust I'll be seeing you soon?" he chuckles. "I mean if there's anything left for you to buy."

"Don't be silly, of course there is!" I answer. "I have to build a sculpture for one of my assignments, I'm going to be back."

"For Lennard's class?"

"Yeah, you have him too?"

"Wednesday afternoon," he smiles. "Odd guy, isn't he?"

"Oh, no doubt. What are you building for your sculpture?"

"My Patronus," he says after some hesitation.

"What's your Patronus?"

"You can find out when I finish it," he chuckles and starts moving things around his table. I take this as a sign that he doesn't want to talk about it so I leave.

"Whatever, weirdo, let me know if the Tombows go on sale," I say walking towards the door with my big bags.

"Will do! Do you need help?"

"I'm good, thanks. Bye!" I shout through my arms, struggling to open the door.

The buses hate me, as usual, so it takes me about an hour to travel back home. I have one bag in my left hand, and I'm holding my other bag with the huge papers to my chest with my right hand, all while my purse starts slipping off my shoulder. I knock hoping Julia is home and can open the door for me because I can't be bothered to fish out my keys right now.

I hear sounds of scrambling coming from inside and then Harry opens the door for me. I'm confused before I take in his messed up hair and shirt thats inside out. Behind him I see Julia on the couch, hastily arranging her hair to appear normal. I try not to make it obvious that I've noticed Harry's very apparent bulge and fly undone because I can see how discreet he's trying to be about it.

"Hey," Harry croaks. "Do you want me to help you with those?" he nods to the bag I'm carrying. I give him a tight smile.

"No, thanks," I say. I walk around him, careful to keep to not touch him and take my shoes off. "Hey, Jules," I greet her, without making eye contact, as I walk straight to my room. "I'm gonna be working on my assignment, don't mind me. You guys can... carry on or whatever... I don't know." My face heats up in embarrassment. Why am I so awkward?

I shut my door tightly and hope it didn't seem like I slammed it. Because if it looks like I slammed it then it looks like I'm mad, and if it looks like I'm mad that they were getting frisky, it's obvious that I have a thing for Harry. And if either of them realize that, it wouldn't be hard to understand why I act the way I do around Harry. I don't want to destroy the good progress we've made in our friendship this past week.

I sigh deeply and then grab a more comfortable change of clothes from my closet. My desk is already cleared up, ready for me to make my prints. Obviously, I practise on normal paper with my new pens and inks before pulling out the fancy sheets and cutting them in a neatly so they're letter sized. I'm nervous to start the first print but I get over it quickly. If I mess up this sheet, I have more but if I mess those up too, then I'm fucked because I have to submit eight prints tomorrow morning, and I'm not submitting them on two types of paper.

I think about Zayn for a few minutes while I work. Over the past two years I'd seen him around a few times because we were in the same program, but the mysterious and broody vibes that he gave off intimidated me from ever speaking to him. He was also very quiet. That has to be why Julia lost interest in him, because with a face like his there is no other reason I can imagine why she wouldn't want him. He spoke a lot to me today though. I figured that's because he was in a place he was familiar in and he sort of knew me. I can see us being friends in the future.

I didn't make any new friends during orientation in first year, so when Julia started dating Harry several weeks later, we both became acquainted with Louis and Niall and they're now my only other friends. I'm grateful for them since they let me go bar-hopping with them when Julia refused to because her and Harry preferred to just stay home together. And they were really fun too. They liked to make fun of Harry and Julia as if they're an old married couple, and their impressions are really funny when I'm drunk.

However, it'd also be nice to have an artist friend. I already wish I had gotten Zayn's number. Not to go out with him, but to have someone to talk to about my art.

I'm nearly done one print when a knock sounds at my door a couple hours later.

"Come in," I say, surprised that for once Julia learned how to knock.

"Hey," she says slowly. She shuts the door and cautiously sits on my bed. I don't turn my chair around to face her, I just keep working. "Harry just left and I wanted to say sorry about what you saw earlier."

My face heats up again.

"Don't worry about it. It's cool," I assure her.

"Okay, good, I just felt bad because I know you don't like it when—"

"Did you have sex on the couch?"

"We-what?"

"Did you have sex on the couch?" I repeat calmly.

"No, we didn't. We-uh... no. Not on the couch."

"Good, just remember the couch is off limits for sex. I don't care about whatever else you do," I say nonchalantly. "Wait, the entire living room and kitchen as well. Though I'm sure you knew that already."

"Okay," she whispers. I'm not sure why Julia is talking about this with me so delicately when she's never hesitated to go into very descriptive details about their sex life before. But then again, Julia conjures many strange explanations in that brain of hers, so she's probably labelled me off as a scared prude or something.

"Um, this isn't going to change how you act around Harry, is it?" she mumbles.

I look at her in confusion.

"What? No. Why would it? I knew you two were having sex," I roll my eyes at her. Honestly, just because I haven't done the deed doesn't mean I don't know about it. And like I said, she went into very descriptive details about their sex before.

"I know, but you've never seen us like that before. I just hope nothing traumatized you."

Harry's bulge flashes in my mind and I curse Julia for bringing it up.

"I don't know what your talking about, I didn't see anything," I lie.

"You didn't?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Really. And besides, it was clothed so it wasn't like I actually saw his dick."

"Wait what?" Julia exclaims.

"What?" I respond trying to pretend like I didn't just say what I said.

"You saw his clothed dick?" Julia stares at me, wide-eyed.

"What? No, I didn't. He has a dick?"

Julia and I stare at each other for a few seconds, before we both burst into laughter.

"Oh, God, never tell him that! He was trying to hide it so bad!" she giggles.

"I wasn't planning on it!" I wave my arms around like it was obvious. She falls into another fit of giggles.

"Moving on," I say, "you'll never guess who I met today."

"Who?"

"Remember that guy I approved of for you at that party during orientation in first year? Zayn?"

"Oh my God, I remember him! He was so hot!"

"Was? He still is!"

"Get it, Aria!" she chirps. I roll my eyes.

"He works at the art shop on the other side of the town."

"That's hot."

"Tell me about it," I smirk. "I think I'm gonna go see him again soon."

Julia and I ended up talking for an hour about Zayn and other guys she's dated. For the first time in ages, my mind was completely off Harry and it felt nice to talk to my best friend about boys. We were like young teenagers again, scheming ways to lure Zayn in and planning potential future dates. I hadn't even thought about him like that until I started speaking to Julia.

It was time I moved on from Harry.

---

I accidentally tip my travel mug over trying to pour hot coffee in it and nearly burn myself. Oh fuck. Now there was coffee all over the kitchen counter and floor and none in my mug.

I quickly throw a bunch of paper towels on the tile floor to mop it up and then inspect the counter. My eyes widen when I notice the coffee seeping into the coffee machine. I shut it off immediately and unplug it from power before it explodes or something. I'm not sure how easily electrical appliances catch fire, but I didn't want to risk burning my apartment down today.

I know I can't leave this mess like this, Julia will have my head. Quickly throwing paper towels on the tile floor and the counter, I decide that if I leave right now and run, I can make it to Starbucks to grab a coffee before my class starts. So I messily mop up the mess, wash my hands and run out with my purse. I put my jacket on in the elevator and hold the folder with my new prints in my mouth.

I was up all night last night after Julia and I were finished talking about Zayn. Hence why the coffee is so important. I woke up thirty minutes ago after I fell asleep for an hour and took the fastest shower then failed to make coffee. At least my calligraphy prints were all done and ready. I'm really glad Zayn sold me the fancy paper because it makes the calligraphy look so much more elegant and old fashioned, and the silver ink enhanced it as well. All in all, I'm pretty proud of them.

It was twenty to nine which meant the campus was full of students milling around and slowly making their way to class. There were a few maniacs running around like headless chickens (me) while also texting their roommates to warn them not to use the coffee machine. I was dodging people like a bullet and nearly made it to the Starbucks when I remembered I should have mobile ordered because the line up looks so long. Just as I was about to pull to a stop in front of the store, someone bumps into me harshly and a coffee drops to the ground and my folder slips from my hand.

"Shit!" Niall yells and the same time I let out a horrified scream. Three of my prints landed in Niall's spilled coffee.

"My prints!" I shout, dropping to my knees.

"Aria, shit, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you, oh fuck are they ruined?" Niall starts blabbering.

My hands shake and as I reach out to grab one. It was then I noticed that thankfully I had enough functioning braincells before I slept to remember to put them in individual sheet protectors. The coffee touched the plastic on the outside but the prints themselves were safe.

"They're in sheet protectors, they're okay!" I hear Harry's voice. I look up meeting his gaze. I hadn't even noticed him standing next to Niall with a Starbucks coffee of his own. He bends down in front of me, pulling out napkins from his pocket and starts to gently wipe at the coffee. It comes off clean and leaves my assignment looking just as it had before. "See? Completely fine," he confirms gently. I let out a sigh of relief. I was so scared for a moment.

"You were so smart for putting them in plastic sheet protectors," Niall comments.

"Thank fuck," I grunt. I grab a napkin from Harry and help him. He stops and stares at the print he was holding.

"You made this?" he asks, as if it just occurred to him. I nod. "Shit, this is so good, Aria."

I blush and thank him. I'd love to hear him compliment my work, but I'm sad because I have to go to class coffee-less now.

"'No legacy is so rich as honesty'," he reads. "Is that Rupi Kaur?"

"No!" I scoff. "It's Shakespeare."

"Shakespeare is shite," Niall says.

"Shakespeare is one of the greatest writers in history!" I argue defensively.

"This is beautiful," Harry continues, ignoring Niall and I. I gather the prints in my folder and stand up, the boys follow suit. "'If music be the food of love, play on' I know that one!"

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. Niall and Harry were pouring over my prints and to be honest, after staying up all night to make them perfect, it felt nice to have them say it was good.

"'You have witchcraft in your lips'," Harry drawls out slowly. He bits his lip. "Can I have this? I quite like this one," he says.

"No," I quip and pull it away, gently placing them back in the folder. "I have to submit them in..." I check my phone for the time. 8:51. "Nine minutes."

I pull my purse back over my shoulder and try not to meet his gaze.

"What's the drink you got there?" I ask nodding at his coffee cup.

"Uh, a Blonde Hazelnut latte—"

"Great, thanks," I say grabbing his coffee and walking away with it. "Bye, guys, see you later!" I wave at them and smirk at Harry's indignant expression. I bring his coffee to my lips and take a sip.

---

It's been a couple weeks since I sort of walked in on Harry and Julia. They're more cautious about getting horny when I'm in the room now. And because of what I promised, I'm with them a lot. They love to watch TV together, which I don't understand. I mean I understand watching TV or binge-watching Netflix, but it seems like it's all they do. When they're not in the bedroom, or eating, they're in front of the television. How they get their work done is beyond me.

"We're watching Say Yes to the Dress, wanna join?" Julia asks me one night after I get back from work.

"Don't you guys have homework?" I question.

"We've done it already."

Probably forgot to mention that they're also both business majors, so they have some classes together.

"We have a four hour break on Fridays together, that's when we do all of our schoolwork."

They must be some next-level geniuses, because it takes me ten hours to do one assignment. I couldn't help but also feel like I lacked the security they had regarding their future jobs. Both of their father's were rich businessmen, and both of them were extremely smart. Whether they passed with a 4.0 GPA or a 2.8, they were still going to get a job with their parents and do really well. I had no idea what I was going to do when I graduated.

What did one do with a degree in Fine Arts?

These are the thoughts that plagued me some nights. What was I going to do with my degree? It cost a lot of money to even come here to this university, it was only going to double up after I graduate and try to pay it off. I'm going to spend my whole life looking for temporary jobs to pay me enough so I can pay off my student debts. I could sell paintings, but it would take years to make a name for myself that will make me successful. I could try getting my work into a gallery, but the people who get their works in galleries spend years pouring their heart and soul into their pieces. That's going to take time, and time is money—which I don't have.

I remember being just as lost in high school. Julia applied to this university and convinced me to apply as well. She dragged me to uni fairs to learn more about my program and forced pamphlets in my hands until I was in love with the campus and program enough to apply for it. And I do love it, I got to meet great people and I'm learning amazing things. I was also good enough to get in so that has to count for something, right?

"What are you going to do after you graduate?" I asked Zayn one day. He was showing me sculpting supplies when I randomly blurt this out.

"Uh," he drags out for a few seconds. His eyebrows scrunch in deep thought, but I know he thinks about this a lot too. "I guess, I'm just gonna see where life takes me."

"And that helps you sleep at night?"

"Well, no," he chuckles. "I mean... I kind of like tattooing... I thought I might work at a tattoo parlour. Or do comic book illustrations."

Tattoo parlour. Comic book illustrations.

That's a good answer. That's the perfect answer for Zayn. He has an idea, he has his himself figured out.

"What do you want to do?" he inquires.

"I don't know," I mumble.

"How about I open up my own tattoo shop and you can draw my designs for me while I draw comic books?" he suggests.

I grin at his attempt to cheer me up, and nod.

"Sure, sound's brilliant."

---

Satisfactory work on the prototype. Visually, it's pleasing. Conceptually, it doesn't really make sense. Ask yourself: what is the meaning behind this piece? How do the elements you use embody that? Why did you choose the medium you chose? And remember you don't only have to use one. It would help you to open your mind more.

I growl in frustration and slam my laptop shut. I thought this week couldn't get any worse but the feedback from my sculpture prototype was the cherry on top of the cake. I knew my idea of a dancing ballerina was sub par but I hoped that if I made it look pretty, the professor would just accept it.

Stupid art teachers. They always have to get to deep and meaningful.

I can't help but compare myself to Zayn. Zayn knows what he's making for his sculpture—his Patronus, his spirit animal. That's meaningful. He knows what he wants to do in the future, he's talented, he can get there. He isn't lacking anything.

Angry tears prick my eyes and my fingers close into fists. I lost my touch. I know it. When I came into this university, I was full of fresh ideas. Now I was just drained. All my work was being handed back to me because it wasn't good enough and I had enough. I stared at the stupid cardboard ballerina model then threw it against my wall. It bounced back which gave me no satisfaction, so I picked it up and tore it to pieces, screaming.

The door to my room burst open suddenly, and Harry barged in.

"Aria?!" he took in my state, then the torn cardboard in my hands. "What happened, what did you do?" He walks into my room, completely ignoring the death glare I'm sending him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" I scream. He was the last person I wanted to see me like this, and I had no energy to be careful around him.

Harry's eyes widen and he stares at me in shock, then apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I-I came to see Julia, but she's not here yet," he explains. I roll my eyes and turn away from him. Of fucking course. I forgot Julia had given Harry keys to our apartment. Ever since he got them, he'd been visiting more often.

"She went out with her father," my voice comes out scratchy and monotone.

"Her father—?"

"Yes. His personal assistant came to pick her up an hour ago."

"Oh okay," he says quietly, still standing in my room. I turn to look at him expectantly, but he just stares back at me like a doe with green eyes. "I'm not leaving you like this."

"Like what?" Fury drips from my voice. I don't know why it angers me so much. Who is he to know what I'm like?

"Like-like this! All crying and stuff."

"Well, I want you to leave!"

"No," he says quietly and shakes his head.

"Leave!"

He stays rooted and even has the audacity to fold his arms across his chest.

"This is my house and I demand that you leave!"

He bends down to pick up the torn pieces of cardboard. I huff and sit down on my bed, my face in my hands. I can see Harry trying to arranged the pieces back together like a puzzle to fix it. My heart strings pull at his actions. He's trying to be helpful and here I am, being a bitch to him again.

"Leave it, it's not important anymore. I already got my mark and feedback," I mutter. He gently sets the pieces down then moves up closer on the ground so he's kneeling in front of me.

"What happened? Did they say there was something wrong with it?" he asks.

"Yeah, it's useless, it's not good enough," I scoff. Harry immediately shakes his head.

"Don't say that—"

"It's true, Harry! It looks pretty but-but that's not good enough."

"What is 'good enough'?"

My throat constricts and my eyes well up in tears again. I shake my head, not being about to speak of my failure. Harry carefully grabs my hands and looks into my eyes. My heart beats faster at the feel of his soft hands over mine.

"Come, I'll make you some tea. Relax a bit, and we'll figure something out," he suggests.

"Harry, no," I say weakly. Despite my distressed state, I know I probably shouldn't be spending time with Harry like this, especially with Julia not here. But when he insists and pulls me up to my feet, I am unable to refuse him.

Harry sits me down at the small table in the kitchen and swiftly moves around to make tea.

"You've never had my tea before, no?" he inquires. I shake my head not even realizing that his back is to me so he won't see. "You're going to love it, everyone loves my tea. It's probably the best in the country."

A small laugh escapes my mouth. Harry whips his head back, an accomplished smile on his face.

"I doubt that," I say eventually. His face brightens even more at my response.

"Don't knock it 'til you try it."

He gives it a final stir, sets the spoon down on the counter, then places the steaming mug carefully in front of me. I look at the light brown liquid expressionless.

"It's Earl Grey," he says quickly. When I still make no move to pick it up he says, "that's all you guys have here, I assumed you like Earl Grey."

"Oh, I love Earl Grey," I start. Harry smiles in relief. "I hate milk, though."

His smile drops.

"Fuck," he says under his breath. He slowly drags the mug to his side. "Well... this was mine actually," he reasons, "all along." He turns around to grab a new mug.

"Oh," I play along. "See, I thought it was for me, 'cause you put right in front of me."

"No, no," he wags a finger. "That was a trick, and you fell for it. I made you think that was for you, to throw you off. I knew you hated milk all along."

I try to contain my laughter because I know he wins if I do, but I can't help it. His endearing behaviour is making me smile. His eyes sparkle at the sound of my laughter, and I am in awe at how quickly he was able to brighten my mood.

"I take sugar in my tea sometimes," he says. "I know that you..." he narrows his eyes at me and I give a small shake of my head, "don't take sugar in yours... which is why I'm not putting any in here." He places the second mug of plain black tea in front of me. I blow on it a bit to cool it then take a sip, it tastes just as ordinary as I always take my tea.

"Mmm, this truly is the best tea I've ever had," I say sarcastically.

"Told you," he grins.

Harry sits across from me and tells jokes and a few anecdotes to help me relax. Within a half hour, I'm in stitches and I've completely forgotten about my breakdown.

He finishes another story and I'm laughing harder than I have in a while. Tears of mirth slip down my face, and I wipe them away with my sleeve. I've quietened down and look to see Harry staring at me with a content smile.

"I think that's the first time I've seen you really, truly laughing around me," he says. I catch the happy glint in his eye that makes me long for endless moments like this.

"Well, I'm not like this with everyone, considered yourself special," I joke. His forehead furrows and he turns the tiniest bit serious.

"Of course, I consider it an honour to even call you my friend, Aria Collins," he declares. I search for any hint of teasing in his eyes, but I find none. I gulp and smile shakily.

His hand moves up a bit on the table and for a moment my heart stops, but his hand doesn't come any closer to mine.

"Do you wanna talk about your feedback now?" he asks gently. I sigh deeply. I know there's no escaping it so might as well get it over with now.

"My prof doesn't think it's good enough. He said it's lacking conceptually and I need to be more open minded."

He looks at me blankly. I know Harry is at a loss when it comes to art because it's not his forte, but I'm pleasantly surprised when he pushes himself to keep trying.

"What was the idea you had for the ballerina?" he asks.

"It was just a ballerina. I was fascinated with ballet when I first came up with the idea. I just thought they were cool."

He nods and thinks.

"You should make something related to you," he offers.

"But what? And how?"

"You know... and before I start, forgive me, 'cause I don't know much about art and things—"

"It's okay."

"Um, I'm taking a Greek Mythology elective this semester." I tilt my head, not expect this. "D'you know who you remind me of a lot?"

"Who?"

"Artemis."

My jaw drops.

"You're very independent like she is," he continues. "It's hard to impress Artemis, and it's hard to impress you. She's sworn to never marry—and I know you haven't but you've obviously prioritized other things before relationships. She's very, like, determined and dedicated to her work which you clearly are as well..."

Harry begins to falter and trails off awkwardly. Eager for him to feel just as comfortable as he's always made sure I felt, I'm quick to answer.

"Artemis is my favourite goddess," I tell him. His eyes meet mine.

"Really?"

I nod.

"Who's your favourite god?" he follows up.

"Apollo," I smile. Harry laughs.

"No way! He's my favourite, too!" He blinks owlishly at me. "Why don't you do something Artemis-like for your sculpture. Or Apollo-like."

I try to think of how I could twist this Artemis idea and make my sculpture about me. I absent-mindedly tug at my sleeves and bite my lip in concentration.

"You know..." Harry starts again and I inwardly smile because I know he had an idea from the beginning but he doesn't want to be too forward. "Every god and goddess has a sacred animal."

I vaguely remember reading something like that.

"What's Artemis'?" I ask.

"A deer."

A deer. Huh.

"Deer symbolize things like adventure, cautiousness, individuality..." Harry continues. I raise my eyebrows. He nods, "Sounds like someone in this room."

I crack a smile.

"I like that idea," I say truthfully. "I think I can work with that."

"What else did your prof say?"

"He told me to be more open-minded and not use only one medium or something like that..."

"What's your medium?"

"Well a medium is the physical thing you use to show your art. I was going to use clay for my sculpture."

"So he wants you to use more than clay?"

I nod. Harry looks at me like he has an idea but he doesn't share.

"How about we let this idea cook for a bit, and with time you'll think of a something."

"Okay," I agree, feeling the exhaustion of the night. I got pretty far with the deer idea anyway. "Sounds good." I get up to put away our mugs, and when I turn around Harry put his shoes on.

"I should probably leave now," he mumbles, slipping his arms through his jacket. I nod.

"Thanks, Harry," I say sincerely. "I'm glad you didn't leave, you... you helped me a lot today. I'm sorry I was such a bitch to you."

He smiles wide.

"It's no problem," he says, his hands tucked into his pockets. I surprise both of us by moving forward and wrapping my arms around his torso. He stands shocked for a moment, and then slowly rests his arms around me too. I hug him tightly, trying and failing to not pour all my emotions out. His hand rubs up and down my back. I inhale his scent. I don't want this moment to end.

Eventually, I pull away before it gets awkward. Though I don't think Harry would ever allow me to feel awkward in his presence. I fold my arms together, determined to not look shy but Harry sees right through me and snickers. He opens the door and steps out, waving goodbye.

***

There’s chapter 3! Let me know what you thought :) Also I probably should mention Aria rolls her eyes a lot. Like A LOT alot, it’s gonna get annoying I know but that’s how she is. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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#mastermind

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squirrelly831 · 5 years

Photo

Minseok!Barista AU

Masterlist

Redid it, so it’s longer now.

Every morning was the same routine for Valeria. Out of bed, dressed for work, and a stop to her favorite cafe, The Break Room. It’d be a lie if she said she went for the coffee. Sure, the coffee was better than most coffee shops she entered, but there was something beyond that to lead her back time and again.

Today’s the day! She took a deep breath and with a sweaty palm, she touched the bar on the door. She pushed open the cafe door and the familiar ring of the bell. The smell of fresh coffee beans was the first thing to greet her. She saw the young cafe store owner look over the espresso machine.

When his lips curved to the familiar smile, his eyes formed crescents. There it was. The reason behind her constant appearance. The man behind the espresso machine. Kim Minseok.

She sucked in a breath and made her way to the cashier who was also her best friend, Byun Baekhyun.

Baekhyun was playing with his apron that was disheveled and twisted. He looked up from his apron and grinned, “Ayeee, Val! You’re here early.” His eyes held an all too knowing glint in them. He looked over at his boss who stared at Valeria in a daze. “Hey boss, I think we’re almost out of whip.”

Valeria met Minseok’s eyes, but in a flash, he turned away. “I’ll get some.” He replies before he walked away.

Valeria let out a sigh as he disappeared through the staff only door. “I hate you.” She looked back at her snickering friend who was inserting the order she always got. Caramel macchiato with extra caramel.

“How is this? I’ll buy your drink for you today in apology.” He took out his card and swiped it.

“Today was supposed to be the day, Baek.”

“The day for what?” Minseok asked as he walked up behind Baekhyun with whip cream and a roll of receipt paper in hand.

Valeria’s voice caught in her throat. All you have to do was talk to him. Come on, girl! Just open your mouth and don’t say anything--

“I think you’re really good looking”.

Stupid. She froze as she replayed the words she said. Minseok’s wide eyes reflected the shock she felt. Her brain was on full alert. Run! She backed away from the counter. Baekhyun’s mouth moved, but the words didn’t reach her brain. Next thing she knew, she was out the door and a block closer to work.

When she made her way into work, her head was down. She maneuvered her way through the crowd of people that lead to the elevators and headed up the stairs. When the stair doors shut, she leaned against the concrete wall and let out a breath. Not only had she said something stupid, but she up and ran. She pressed her fingers to her temple as she squeezed her eyes shut. Great going idiot. Now how are you supposed to go to his store again. Her phone vibrated in her dress pocket. She reached for it to see Baekhyun’s name on the screen. When she opened the message, she rolled her eyes.

Baekhyun: I think you’re really good looking! Shit, I’m dyin’🤣🤣🤣🤣

She exited the message and straightened up. She was at work. She needed to forget her awkward encounter and just focus on work. Yea… That would work.

Two weeks passed and Valeria didn’t step into the cafe. It was the weekend and Valeria was up early due to her internal clock. She got herself motivated and dressed into a simple white tank top with a jean jacket over it and a pair of denim skinny jeans. She made her way out the door of her apartment and to the cafe she had avoided for so long.

When the bell chimed, she noticed no one greeted her. She looked around and no one was around. She looked at her watch and noticed it wasn’t even time for the coffee shop to be open.

Valeria went to sneak out the door, “Long time no see.” She looked up to see Minseok appear from the staff only door. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his button down shirt collar was neatly fixed and the first button was undone. “You want the usual?” He gave his familiar smile.

She shook her head, “It’s okay. You’re not even open.” Whatever nervousness she once held were nonexistent.

His eyes lit up when she spoke to him. “It’s fine. Take a seat. I’ll make you the usual.”

“Can I get something hot? It’s kind of chilly to have a caramel macchiato.”

Minseok paused for a moment, “Would a white chocolate mocha work?”

Valeria bit her lip and nodded. She had never even heard of the drink before, but she wasn’t going to tell him no. He headed to get her drink together and she sought out a chair with a good view of him. She watched him make her coffee as she always did. The tiny smiles he wore as he got the espresso. How he got the ingredients together. His eyes always met hers as he made her drink. He walked over, mug in hand. He gave her a smile as he placed the mug in front of her, “Enjoy.” He lingered beside the table.

Today was the first day they had exchanged words other than just her order and the price. She felt like she was floating on air and she really didn’t want it to end. Looking at the heart shaped design, she gave a quick reply, “I always do” she raised the mug to her lip to conceal the smile that crept to her face. The drink was sweet and she loved it. It just added to the greatness that was this day.

He started to walk away, but stopped and looked back at her, “Tonight–”

She cut him off, “I’m free after 4. I have to run some errands.”

“4?” He smiled. His eyes lit up and he chuckled, “Stop by at 5 and I’ll close up shop.” A customer walked in and he turned to greet and assist the new customer. “Maybe we can go out for a drink or two.

Valeria bit her lip, “I’d like that.”

He scratched the back of his head, “Great. I’ll see you here.” He replied just as guest began to trickle in. He walked back to the cash register and he pulled back his fist in a small victory motion that he didn’t know Valeria had saw.

She couldn’t wait for 5 o’clock to come. She took another sip of the mocha as she watched him prepare other customer’s drinks.

-Moodboard and writing by: Squirrelly831

This was my first moodboard. Thanks to @foreverhamkke for giving me some creative advice!!

If you like my work please like and share it!

#exo #exo scenarios #exo mood board #exo moodboard #xiumin #xiumin scenario #xiumin moodboard #Minseok #minseok scenario #minseok moodboard #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop scenario #kpop mood board #kpop moodboard

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