#catch me toting the whole damn thing in a lunch bag on my way to pee at 3 am | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

generalfoolish · 3 years

Text

Feel The Heat

Part One: Cruel World

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OC Juniper Collins

Rating: 18+ Warnings: fem masturbation, male masturbation, cursing, mentions of casual sex

Word Count: 4k

Summary: June visits the farmer's market and meets Frankie, a grumpy farmer. She's interested, but they're both MASSIVE idiots.

A/N: Hey babes! I've been working on this massive Farmer!Frankie AU with an OC. I'm excited to debut this first part, the story is going to be a little slower so I can put in SO much pining. Anyway, enjoy 💕

Masterlist | Part two

June breathed in the fresh air as she pulled her tote strap onto her shoulder. The canvas bag held her wallet and keys, but was otherwise empty. She smiled, knowing that soon enough it would be almost too heavy.

The farmer's market was always busy on Saturday morning, and this one was no exception, she realized as she neared the stalls. She had a certain path she liked to follow, but she was feeling overwhelmed about the crowd. It was much busier than she had anticipated, and she always got a little panicky in throngs of too many people. So, she veered off her normal route, and found herself on the far end of the market.

It was much quieter, and much less crowded, she noticed right away. June also noticed that the produce was amazing. Late summer the fruit started to get a little smaller, but the berries at these stalls were still plump. The vegetables weren't as uniform as some of the bigger stalls, these were misshapen and discolored. Two indicators that the flavor would be divine, she thought as she roamed the stalls.

Her bag was getting heavy quickly, she noted, and she was determined to explore the whole area, so she walked straight to the end. The last stall on the property. Her hopes were not high as she marched up to the display stand.

"Would you like to try the tomatoes?" A rich baritone asked, and she quickly met his eyes. They were silky and brown, and breathtakingly deep. He had his cap pulled low, but his face was scruffy.

"Sure, that would be great. Are you the farmer?" June asked, taking the sample, and eyeing the selection.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm Frankie, and that is a Brandywine. All of my produce is hand picked, and that process starts at seed selection." He told her, his voice softening. She smiled and popped the tomato into her mouth. It was delicious. Acidic and sweet, not overpowering to the palate. Frankie must have seen the delight on her face because he grinned, knowing what she was experiencing.

"Wow, Farmer Frankie, this is so good." She laughed a little as she chewed, wanting to savor it. "I'll take a basket please." She decided, and nodded down at his table. He nodded and started to bag it. "I have a bag, thanks! What do I owe you?" She asked, pulling out some cash. He merely waved his hand.

"Don't worry about it." He told her. June only frowned.

"I can't do that. You worked so hard, I want to buy something." He chuckled and took his cap off before running his hand over his head.

"Look, it's early, and I couldn't possibly charge someone as beautiful as you." She blushed deeply, but thrust a twenty at him anyway.

"My beauty isn't for sale, but your tomatoes are. Have a good day, Frankie." She told him and turned around quickly. She wasn't normally bold, and she had no qualms with getting stuff for free. She had no idea why she had fought him, but as she walked away all she could think about were his beautiful, brown eyes.

—

Frankie kicked himself hard as he watched the woman walk away from him. What was he thinking? He didn't even catch her name; he had no business calling her beautiful. He was off his game, and badly.

His phone buzzed, so he fished it out of his shirt pocket. An old t-shirt with a pocket on the chest, tattered and dirty, and that's what she saw when she walked up to him. What was she doing in the back of the market anyway, no one ever came this far back. He opened the message and sighed at how long the group chat was. Santiago and Benny could talk for hours, even texting. He wasn't up for it this morning, which wasn't unusual. He skimmed the messages, and decided it wasn't worth responding to. He had to sell some produce.

He looked down at the crisp twenty dollar bill on the table and cringed again. Twenty was way too much for the tomato basket. They were marked purposefully cheap, since they cost nothing to grow and always brought people back, and she had overpaid. Grossly. Even a ten would have been too much. And what had he done? Nothing. He hadn't even gotten her name. All he knew was that she looked great in shorts, her hair was a deep red, and she loved his tomatoes.

—

"What do you mean?" Stella asked, sipping her glass of wine.

"I mean how do I fix it? Like I want to try his other stuff, but I was so rude." June told her, sighing into her own glass. Zinfandels usually brought her mood up, but she was still feeling from earlier.

"You just go back, darling. I doubt he'll remember you. I mean you only talked for five seconds. Also, I think paying for your stuff is the opposite of rude." Stella took a bite of her pasta before pointing her fork back at June. "Unless, it's more than that. It's definitely more than that. Are you trying to date the farmer?" June felt her face flush, and quickly took a bite of her own pasta to buy some time to think. She had gotten worked up, but she hadn’t thought about why that was. She grumbled as she bit into the ravioli. It was dumb, but Stella was right. She wanted to get to know Frankie more. It didn’t make a lot of sense, but she wanted to see him again.

Stella took Juniper’s silence as a win, and a grin spread across her face. June had always thought that Stella’s signatured wicked grin could rival the Cheshire Cat, and this one was no different. Too bad, June thought, that she hadn’t tumbled down a trippy tunnel where answers were held in clearly labeled vials. She took a wistful sip of her wine and looked back up to Stella.

“You’re right. But have I messed it up too bad? Like, I was pretty rude.” Stella laughed.

“You could have stepped on him and he’d thank you for it. June, you’re hot. He’d be lucky if you even thought about him. You couldn’t have messed it up.” June laughed, not really any more confident, but loving Stella’s hype game anyway.

“How’s...Bernard?” June asked, struggling to remember the man’s name. Stella had a habit of switching out lovers pretty often. June thought of it as her “man of the week,” and while it was good fun for her to envision a horrible reality show it wasn’t conducive to remembering their names, or anything about them.

“Ben,” Stella sighed, correcting June and pausing dramatically, “Is gone. I’m seeing Javi now. He’s much younger, and a lot richer.” Stella teased, taking another mouthful of food. June rolled her eyes. Stella had launched a business when she was in college, and had made a small fortune by the time they graduated. She was independently wealthy. In a way that June was not. June had opted for an education degree, and now was in charge of a bunch of literal children.

She took a sip of her wine and considered that path for a moment. She actually loved her job. She didn’t make shit, but it was worth the long hours to see those kids be nurtured and educated. She cared for them, and that made it worth the lack of zeros in her bank account.

“Javi, huh? He sounds posh.” June said, not really thinking about Javi or Stella’s various other affairs.

“He is not. He’s new money, so we can be tacky together. Anyway, lunch is on him!” Stella told her, laughing. June cringed at that, thinking back to Frankie. She groaned. She should have just taken the damn tomatoes. She didn’t even want them now, the thought of eating them just made her shrivel in on herself.

While Stella took care of the bill, June wondered if she shouldn’t just go back to the stall. Introduce herself and apologize, she thought. It’s the only thing to do in this situation. She set to getting her nerve up to do it, but at the end of lunch she just hugged Stella and went home.

Frankie slid into the booth next to Benny and across from Santiago and Will. When he had gotten around to answering the text chain the guys had decided to go out for a drink, and Frankie had wanted a drink after his day.

“Fish, Liv wants to stay the night.” Will announced, watching Frankie take a thoughtful sip.

“If Becka doesn’t mind, neither do I.” He shrugged, and Will nodded. Becka had been Frankie’s saviour. She was Will’s wife, but her and her little girl had taken up with Liv so easily. Being a single dad was not easy, but Becka had never let him feel alone. Hell, she handled everything for him. She was too good to him.

“Course not. She loves Liv. Not as much as Ashley, but I think she loves having another kid to spoil. Bad news for me, probably.” Will laughed out, and the rest joined in. No one had expected Will to get married so quickly, and none of the guys had been prepared for his girl to already have a kid in tow. Will had taken to Ashley quickly though, and had settled into the family role easily. Frankie noted Will’s painted nails and smiled. He was lucky to have such a great group of brothers.

“Enough kid talk, I have a fight coming up. You coming?” Benny asked, nudging Frankie’s arm. Frankie took his cap off and ran his hand through his hair.

“Who’re you up against?” Will asked before Frankie could answer. Honestly, he was searching for an excuse. Not that he didn’t want to support Benny, but the fights were always too loud, too tempting.

“Jones. It’s a special rematch. That’s why I need my boys there! Pam!” Benny hollered after the waitress and held up four fingers. Shots, Frankie thought sarcastically, just what they needed.

“Ben, of course, we’ll all be there. I’m bringing a plus one, though.” Santi announced, demanding the attention of the table.

“Who’s the victim this time?” Frankie asked, sipping his beer. Santi shot him a dirty look and clapped his hands together.

“Her name is…” He paused, making sure he had everyone’s attention. “Sam.” Frankie rolled his eyes at the theatrics.

“What does Sam do?” Will asked, not minding the dramatics.

“Sam is a school teacher.” Frankie’s eyebrows shot into his hairline.

“Surely, not.” Benny snorted. Pam sat the shots down, and everyone grabbed one.

“To Santi, maybe learning something!” Will toasted, and they threw back. Frankie relaxed as the tequila warmed his throat. This was normal, and meeting with the guys did his body some good. He wouldn’t even think about the woman from earlier. He grimaced as he thought about it. His problem, he was realizing, was that he was too sober. He caught Pam’s eye and nodded at her. They came to this bar enough that they knew the waitstaff by name, and the waitstaff knew their orders. Frankie preferred it that way, less chance of an awkward encounter.

“Sam is a local gal, but she has not yet heard of me.” Santi told the group, clutching his drink. He had a bit of a reputation of being a lady killer. It was rare he found someone who didn’t recognize his name.

“I guess teachers aren’t normally in the same crowd as strippers.” Benny joked, and grabbed his shot when Pam sat them down. “Damn Fish, long day?” They knocked them back, and Frankie just nodded.

“There was this lady at the stall today. Total knockout, and I just flubbed it hard. It was early, y’know?” They all laughed at him and he couldn’t help the grin that spread on his face.

“She’ll be back. I mean, look at yourself, Fish. You’ve got it back together.” Will offered. Frankie smiled at him and sipped his beer again. They shifted to riling Benny up about his on and off again girl, so Frankie just relaxed. It wasn’t uncommon for him to space out, and the guys could fill any silence. He surveyed the bar, taking in the patrons and just assessing the crowd. Saturday nights could go two ways: chill or not chill. It was an old habit to scan for danger, but it suited Frankie. He could sip his beer and watch for thugs or idiots or drunks. The waitstaff never complained when they stepped in. He supposed they didn’t mind four ex-service guarding them a few times a month. Sometimes they drank for free, but Frankie had no issues with bloodying his knuckles up every now and again.

He was smirking, thinking about their last fight, when he saw her. He had to do a double-take to make sure his eyes weren’t fooling him. He couldn’t believe it. There she was. She’d changed. Opting for small jeans shorts and a tight t-shirt over the yoga shorts she’d had on before. He gulped loudly, and shifted in the booth. Her hair was down, curled, and she looked amazing. He didn’t think she could look any better. He wanted to go to her. Instead he leaned on the table and cleared his throat.

“She’s here.” He told the guys dumbly, cutting off something that Benny was saying.

“Who is?” Santi asked, looking around, probably for Frankie’s ex. They all hated her, but she wouldn’t come here.

“The girl from earlier. The knockout.” Frankie told them, trying to keep his voice low. He nodded in her direction, surprised that she hadn’t noticed him. It wasn’t a large bar. Maybe she didn’t recognize him, he thought. He flushed even as he thought it. He hoped she would remember him. Santi whistled low as he faced Frankie.

“She’s good.” He murmured, and took a sip. Will and Benny agreed.

“Buy her a drink, Fish.” Benny suggested, clapping Frankie on the back. He grimaced as the loud noise rose above the din of the bar. As if on cue, she looked up and saw him. He was staring at her, and there she was, looking at him. He looked away, chickening out. He wouldn’t say anything. She had stormed off earlier, hadn’t she? She should apologize to him, he thought, getting his hackles up.

June couldn’t believe it. She had agreed to go out with the new girl from work, came to a bar she had never been to, and here he was. He looked great, she admitted to herself. He had thrown a plaid button up over his shirt, and it suited him. Farmer Frankie, she mused, and then turned to Samantha.

“Do you come here a lot?” Samantha looked up from her hard seltzer and shook her head.

“I came with this guy I’m kind of seeing. Everyone knew him here, and I liked the scene. It’s kind of dive-y.” June nodded, and took a drink of her rum and coke.

“Are you settling in, you know at school?” June asked, deciding to ignore the farmer. If he wanted to say something, she wouldn’t stop him, but she had no intentions of approaching him.

“Oh yeah, you know Keira? She’s been super helpful.” June nodded in agreement, Keira was the secretary but she ran the place.

“Like your kids? You’re what 5th?” Samantha nodded.

“I have no idea how you handle those 6 year olds, they’re too wild for me.” June laughed.

“I couldn’t handle the ball jokes, honestly. Tweens are the worst.” They both laughed, and sipped their drinks. June felt eyes on her, but tried to ignore them. She repeated to herself: if he wanted to talk, he’d come over. She made it her mantra. She focused on Samantha, willing the handsome man to go away.

“Tell me about this guy you’re seeing! I haven’t been on a date in so long.” June laughed, not wanting to admit how long it had really been.

“He’s so sexy, June. Like, literally so hot. It’s mostly sex though. We’ve been out dancing once, drinking a couple times, but it’s mostly just hook ups. I’m thinking about breaking it off, honestly. Like, the sex is good, great even, but how long is that sustainable, y’know? Like, I want to nurture a relationship at some point.” June nodded, trying to push her jealousy aside enough to be empathetic. She would take some great sex, even if it meant not having a relationship.

She peeked back at the Farmer, who flitted his eyes away as soon as she did, and knew that wasn’t true. She was long overdue for a meaningless hookup, but she wanted something real, whatever the hell that meant.

“Have you tried just telling him? I mean, maybe he doesn’t know you want something more. Men are kind of oblivious to that sort of stuff.” June added. Samantha took a sip, thoughtfully.

“That’s a good idea, Junie. Are you seeing anyone?” June laughed, a little too loudly.

“Just my therapist.” Samantha swatted her shoulder playfully. “No, I, uhm, I got out of a bad relationship last year and I’ve been so nervous to get back in the game.”

“Oh my gosh, my guy has tons of friends! Maybe I can set you up?” June thought for a minute.

“Maybe, I guess I could be open to it.”

“They’re all like ex-Army or something. I’ll text him.” June watched Samantha tug her phone out, and tried to ignore the feeling of being watched. He will come to you, she reminded herself. “Ooh, two single friends! Fish or Benny? Oh nevermind, just Fish. Apparently, Benny has drama. Bullet dodged there, huh?” June snorted, bullet dodged indeed. Fish? What a weird nickname.

“What the hell, set it up.” June told her, throwing back the rest of her drink and indicating another to the bartender.

“Yay! I’m so happy you came! Tuesday night?” June nodded.

“Have him come to the Italian place on 5th street at 7pm. I have parent-teacher conferences, but that should be late enough.” June explained, sipping deeply. Her hands were shaking, she hadn’t been on a proper date in years. Her ex hadn’t been one for dates, so she was out of practice. She raised her eyes to meet Frankie’s, knowing he’d look away immediately. He didn’t, but the look on his face was confusing. Almost angry, so she looked behind her and saw a guy approaching.

“Hey, I’m Kyle.” He introduced himself and sat down on the stool next to her. She looked at him bewildered.

“June.” She said shortly, taking another sip.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Kyle asked.

“Have one.”

“The next one?”

“I think I’m good. There are a lot of empty stools, why don’t you find a new one.” She murmured lowly, and turned her back to him. Samantha giggled.

“I think I know why you don’t get dates!” June rolled her eyes.

“It’s pretty lame, okay. To come up and just sit down. I’m already a little drunk too, it’s just not very cool, Kyle.” June chided, raising her voice so he’d hear. She sighed when he left, and looked back at the booth where Frankie was. The booth was empty, now, she realized sadly. She wished he had approached her. She wouldn’t have turned him away. Why was he so cold?

By the time she made it back to her door, June was pissed. She stumbled in her hallway and pulled her shoes off. They hadn’t been at the bar that long, but the last round of shots had been the death blow for her. Samantha had bid her farewell, saying her ride was there. So, June had ordered an Uber, clutching her keys like a weapon, hoping Kyle didn’t want revenge or something. She pretended to be sober in the Uber, and had chatted easily with the driver on the drive to her house.

Once inside though, June groaned in frustration. She couldn’t believe the stupid luck. It was too much, seeing him there. It was too bizarre, too much of a coincidence. She had stormed upstairs and turned the shower on.

A habit she had started in college, when she was overwhelmed, a hot shower was just the thing she needed. She stripped down and stepped in before the water had warmed up completely, but she didn’t really notice. The shower was just a vessel; June just needed space to decompress. So, she thought about the tanned skinned farmer, and how cold he had seemed. He hadn’t seemed interested, but she had felt his eyes on her all night. She had seen his anger at another guy approaching her. She had felt how angry he was from across the room.

She lathered her body up, and almost absent-mindedly rubbed small circles around her budding nipples. She worked down, and let the soap wash off. She didn’t normally masturbate, but his brooding face and broad shoulders wouldn’t leave her mind. So, she slipped a finger inside herself with one hand, and worked her clit with the other. It was lazy at first, but then she remembered their encounter from the morning and she started going harder, getting worked up. She came hard, whimpering to herself in the steamy shelter of her bathroom. The hot water pelted her skin, and she rested her forehead against the cool, tiled wall.

Whoever this Fish was, she was going to fuck him. She had to get this farmer out of her mind.

Frankie was seeing red as he stormed up to his door. Of course, he had no reason to be pissed. He knew he had no reason to be pissed, but here he was, stomping to his kitchen and grabbing a beer from the fridge. He had wanted to break that guy’s legs for even coming near her. He scoffed at himself, her. He didn’t even know her name and he was ready to pummel someone for looking. Someone was looking, someone would always be looking. She was so gorgeous. He folded over his counter and rested his forehead against his hands. Nothing could help it now. Santi’s girl had messaged him, and the night was over. What was he supposed to do? Watch his dream girl get hit on by some idiot? March up and apologize for being such a giant dickhead? He suspected he was onto something, but he was just buzzed enough to ignore it.

He went to the couch, and threw a few stuffed animals on the floor. He had already kicked off his shoes, but he let his jeans fall to the floor now. The perks of Liv having a sleepover, he chuckled to himself before laying out on the couch. He adjusted himself, his hard dick straining against his underwear.

He planned to ignore that too. But, then he was thinking about her. Her hair down her back, deep and dark. Her smooth skin, inviting and leading his eyes to her ass. He pulled himself free and started slowly rubbing. He thumbed over the tip, and groaned at the precum pooling there. He wanted her so bad. He started thinking about how soft she would be, what she would look like on her knees doing this to him, and he fucked up harder into his fist. He closed his eyes when he felt the snap, and grunted through the orgasm. He wiped his hand down his shirt, and groaned.

He had to get her out of his head.

Part Two: Something More

#catfish #triple frontier #frankie morales #Frankie morales #Frankie Morales x oc #Pedro pascal #Pedro Pascal characters #smut #juniper collins #benny miller #will miller #santiago garcia #oc #tf oc

30 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Galactica, Chapter 5 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Since we’re on a roll and impatient as fuck, we decided to up our posting rate! Hope you enjoy! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet gave Trixie a heads-up about Fame’s dislike of the new collection, and moved into her new apartment--where she found some very welcoming neighbors.

This Chapter: All hands on deck as Fame demands a complete reconceptualization of their Spring collection.

***

Fame swept into the office on Monday, all business, barely looking Violet in the eye as she rattled off a waterfall of orders.

Fame pulled off her coat and dropped it, nearly letting it fall on the floor before Violet dove forward to catch it.

“Have you taken care of the messages I left you over the weekend?”

Fame seemed almost frantic, her energy all over the place.

“I’m almost done Miss,” Violet folded her coat over her arm, holding out her hand for Fame’s bag. “I just need to confirm wit-”

“Good.” Fame hung her bag on Violet’s wrist, the weight almost toppling Violet over if it hadn’t been for her hours at the gym. “Have you ordered the new fabrics I talked about?”

Violet nodded. “They are on their wa-”

“And what about my new assistant?”

“Yes-” Violet reached for her desk, a stack of resumes already printed out. “I’m starting the pre-interviews tomorrow-”

“Wonderful.” Fame completely ignored Violet and the papers she was holding out, instead walking towards her office. Violet quickly disposed of Fame’s coat and bag, putting both down on her desk so she could grab Fame’s coffee and the letters for the day before she followed her.

“Remember, only perfection is accepted,” Fame instructed, settling down at her desk.

“Yes, Miss.” Violet handed her the coffee, which Fame took a single sip of before she scrunched her nose and handed it back to Violet.

“I’d like a new latte and a medium fruit salad, no pineapple.”

“Yes Miss.”

“Is that the schedule for the day?”

Violet nodded and handed her the paper.

“Also, before you go. Get Raja up here. I need to discuss the collection. That’s all,” Fame said, turning to her computer.

It wasn’t for a few minutes that Violet realized how serious Fame was about the collection change. She was standing in line at the coffee shop, checking her email, when she saw that Fame had sent one to the entire senior management team.

Subject: URGENT

All hands on deck meeting at 3 pm today to discuss a complete re-conceptualization of our Spring collection. Bring your best ideas, ready to discuss, along with samples and visual aids. Be prepared to work late.

Violet gulped, forwarding the email to all of the applicable assistants, when another one ticked in.

Subject: Violet - Get me Pearl

***

“This is interesting, try to get a sample of the skirt done ASAP and then spruce up the sketch,” Trixie said.

Trixie had been walking around the busy design floor, checking out what his team had come up with over the weekend. Ever since getting Violet’s text last Friday, he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that Fame was about to bring down a hammer, and so they needed to be prepared with new ideas.

Half of the team was working on changes and additions to their current collection. Half of them were working on entirely new concepts and ideas.

‘Remember guys,’ he’d said before they left on Friday. ‘This is a spaghetti against the wall situation. No bad ideas, time to explore everything. If it’s unique and innovative, that’s a plus. Pull out your passion projects.’

The truth was, Trixie had no idea what to expect. Fame had been silent all weekend, which made him even more nervous. Usually she’d send at least a few texts or emails. Ideas that popped into her head. A doodle on a notepad. Image references. But now, when she was allegedly questioning their whole collection? Nada.

Trixie walked over to where April was draping out an ornate sample dress in multiple shades of blue, telling her to carry on. Then he moved on to Alexis, scrutinizing the sketches on her desk with a critical eye.

“Some of these shapes are interesting, but I need you to redo them with different colors and fabrics,” he told her. “Remember, the color story is apparently the thing she’s most ambivalent about.”

“Got it,” Alexis said with a good-natured sigh, picking up a fresh pad.

“Um, Trixie?” Kandy looked up, a terrified look on her face as she hung up the phone.

“Yes?”

“Raja says to check your emails, don’t panic, and that she’s coming down to fill you in,” Kandy said.

Trixie pulled out his phone, stomach lurching as he read the email from Miss Fame, face going pale.

His worst fear had just come true: they were facing a complete reconceptualization. He looked up, forcing a smile in order to not terrify the design team even more.

“Okay,” he said, attempting to keep his voice light. “New plan...Blu, Jovan, Gia? Forget about the adjustments you were working on. We’re looking for fresh ideas, anything that you think could be a new signature piece. Everyone: the deadline is today at 3 pm.”

A small gasp rippled through the team as they realized how soon that was.

“Three pm?” Blu asked, the Irish designer looking like she might burst into tears.

“Yeah.” Trixie scanned the room again, hating the anxiety that he saw on everyone’s face, which he knew full well was not conducive to innovation. “And try to have fun. Remember, this is fashion, not heart surgery. No one’s gonna die.”

“We might die,” Jovan muttered under his breath, ripping his current piece out of a sewing machine and tossing it onto the ground.

“It’ll be okay,” Trixie put a hand on Jovan’s shoulder. He was his oddest worker, the wrinkly brain he had coming up with the most beautiful, crazy, intricate ideas when he was left to his own devices. “I promise.” Trixie squeezed, trying to put as much conviction behind his words as he could. “Just do your best.”

***

Pearl had just settled into her chair, ready to see if anything exciting had happened on Twitter while she had been by the design department to give Trixie his lunch.

It wasn’t something she normally did, but Katya had been near heartbroken when she saw that Trixie had forgotten the lunchbox she had made him that morning, and since Pearl was a pretty damn good roommate in her own opinion, she had volunteered to deliver it.

Katya had given her a kiss and a hug as thanks before she hurried out the door, two tote bags and canvas under both arms. If Pearl didn’t love her so much, she’d be almost disgusted with how good of a human being Katya was, spending her summer as a volunteer art teacher at a community center in the Bronx.

Her beating heart was however also the reason that Pearl hadn’t been kicked out of the apartment she shared with her Trixie when he and Katya had started dating, so who was she to complain?

A polite cough came from the door just as Pearl was catching up on Olivier Rousteing’s Instagram. She turned around and came face to face with Violet.

Pearl smiled; it was always a joy to see Violet, the other always a sight for sore eyes with her almost impeccable beauty.

It was always fun to see what Violet would wear, the woman almost vintage in her style.

“Is that Gabbana?”

“Of course it’s Gabbana” Violet smoothed down her skirt, and Pearl smiled. She was the only person who Pearl knew that could wear a button up, and still look like someone begging to get fucked.

“You’re late.”

“Am I?” Pearl smirked. Violet was fun to rile up, but Fame was her favorite, one of her very best days at work happening because she had agitated her boss on purpose.

“Is this about the collection? Trixie told me Fame has officially freaked.”

Violet didn’t say anything, and Pearl almost wanted to roll her eyes.

“I’ll take that silence as a yes.”

Violet was an annoyingly good assistant, never saying a word against Fame, always holding her tongue even when it would have been more than fair to complain.

“She wants you in her office in 10.”

“So I’m not actually late?” Pearl turned around to her iMac, seeing that the small email icon on her screen was blinking red. “Ah.”

Pearl realized that Violet had just saved her from Fame’s disappointment, but there was no way she was going to let the other know of her gratitude.

It was too early in the game for that.

“Sorry for helping you.” Violet huffed, rolling her eyes. “Here-” Violet put a folder down on Pearl’s desk. “In case you want to actually prepare-”

“Thanks Vivi.”

“Don’t call me that.”

***

“Shit.” Trixie exhaled a groan of frustration as he dumped down in his chair. He had known the email was coming, but it had still felt like a punch to the gut when he’d actually seen it.

Raja had come straight from a meeting with Fame, and Trixie had known it was bad, real bad, when he had seen how Raja’s normally ice cold exterior was chipped.

Trixie sighed, burrowing his head in his hands for a minute. He hated having to push his designers, hated forcing them to deliver in extreme conditions. A few of them thrived on it, Betty always delivering excellent work, while Aiden almost always buckled when he didn’t have time to pay attention to his details.

Trixie reached into his mini-fridge, taking the lunch Pearl had stopped by to drop off for him. It was only 10:30, but he unpacked it anyway. Katya had packed two pieces of carrot cake, a can of diet coke and as Trixie opened the metal container, the lovely smell of Katya’s best mushroom and cheese blinis greeted him.

He opened his drawer, pulling out a fork as he turned his computer on, the promise of carrot cake the only thing getting him through the avalanche of worried emails he knew was waiting for him.

***

Raja heaved a sigh as she stepped off the elevator. She’d been trying to give Trixie a warning about Fame’s current state of mind without causing the EVP of Design to freak out, but couldn’t shake the notion that she’d failed, seeing the crease in his forehead deepen the more she spoke, until she’d finally just left him with a firm pat on the back. She entered her own suite, the rich fabrics and warm colors immediately soothing her, although her relief was short-lived, since Jaida was perched on Ivy’s desk, a stern look on her face.

“I need to talk to you.”

Jaida was the most recent addition to their management team. The bright, resourceful CFO joined them almost two years ago, when Patrick stepped away from the day to day financial management to focus on his own firm. She’d truly been a godsend—immediately understanding the need for creative flexibility in their budgets, and helping to streamline the company’s organization in a way that was incredibly effective even as they grew by leaps and bounds.

But now, Jaida’s beautiful face was about the last one that Raja wanted to see. She was well-aware that Fame’s email had caused mass panic, and Jaida’s mind was probably already spinning in 100 different directions, thinking about how their timelines would now completely change the budget for Fashion Week beyond the normal contingency plan.

Raja gestured to her office, resigned to have this conversation now, and Jaida immediately sailed in, settling on the forest green velvet couch that Raven had picked out. Raja turned to Ivy, requesting some herbal tea, before joining her.

“So, Jaida, what are you brightening my day with?”

“An entire reconceptualization, Raja?”

“I’m aware that-”

“Has she completely lost it? Can’t you talk to her?” Jaida implored.

“Fame has made up her mind.”

“Ughhh!” Jaida’s hand fell into her hands.

“What a mature response-”

Raja was cut off when Shangela burst into the office. One of their longest and most loyal employees, the Director of Operations usually never panicked, taking on every challenge with an almost annoying amount of enthusiastic joy.

It was possible, Raja supposed, that she was extra annoyed by Shangela because of their failed relationship, but she liked to tell herself that that was besides the point.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Shangela exclaimed, taking a seat across from Jaida.

“I was stalking Ms. Gemini here.” Jaida pointed with her thumb.

“Shangela, you’re in my office-” Raja began.

“Listen. I just want to make sure everyone understands the situation at hand. Bendela is already asking to double the staff in the tailoring department through September, and Alyssa says that this is going to potentially triple the budget for the media campaigns, and-”

“I know! It’s a shit show!” Jaida exclaimed.

Raja closed her eyes. Where the fuck was Ivy with her tea?

“I hear your concerns, however, we haven’t even had the creative meeting yet, so don’t you think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“But Bendela says-”

“Of course she does, Shangela.” Raja sighed. Shangela was always so dramatic, but she was irritatingly good at her job.

“Bendela’s been requesting to hire more tailors for months now. That doesn’t mean that her estimate is accurate and if she truly sticks to her guns, Trixie just interviewed potential interns. I’m sure some of them can be assigned to tailoring.”

Ivy pushed her way through the door, a tray with coffee and tea for everyone in her hands.

“Right, okay, but what about-”

“We’re going to get through today, listen to what Fame has to say, what ideas everyone comes up with, and then reconvene tomorrow morning,” Raja said, gratefully accepting the tea that Ivy handed over.

“Fine,” Jaida said. “But if I were you, I’d convince Miss Fame that the current collection is brilliant.”

“You don’t think I tried that?” Raja laughed.

“Fair enough,” Jaida replied, finally letting a small giggle escape.

“Another day in paradise,” Shangela added, rising up from the couch.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #lesbian au #fashion au #pearlet #violet chachki #miss fame #trixie mattel #pearl liaison #raja gemini #jaida essence hall #shangela laquifa wadley

12 notes · View notes

slothgiirl · 4 years

Text

shadowplay part 8

“Alex,” you hiss under your breath as you settle into the taxi. It turned out he was not nearly as light as a packer as you: with two suitcases and a tote to his name, “its going to be like fifty pounds from here to Heathrow.

He’d come over to yours this morning. Since you were traveling together, might as well carpool. You’d made a full english breakfast. Alex had won, paying for your flight on British Airlines complete with a nice lunch and dinner but that didn’t mean you trusted airplane food.

“ s’ fine love,” he waves away, rolling the window down as he lit a cigarette.

“It’s really not,” you sniped back, fighting the urge to check for your passport for the hundredth time. “I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

He laughs, smiling so hard it crinkles his eyes up as he takes a drag, “just think of as me desperately trying to avoid taking the tube.”

“The tube’s probably not even that crowded right now,” you note. Everyone else was more than likely at work. Except for you.

“Well you’re not wrong.”

“Nothing like getting on the tube in the morning,” you go on, “love being squished by strangers”

Alex smirks, “thats a rather odd kink.”

“Shut up.”

“ ‘m not judging.”

“Just for that you owe me another cuppa tea,” you retort, watching the buildings go by. Goodbye London.

“I’ll do you one better,” he smiles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and oh god maybe Sam was right, you think as blood rushes to your cheeks. The brush of his fingertips against your skin sending your heart racing. “How bout a margarita and a cheeseburger.”

“The quintessential american meal,” you smile, “sounds like a plan.”

The airport is chaotic as usual. Made only easier by the fact that you only have one bag and say fuck it and check it in. The perks of a nice airline is that you don’t have to pay for luggage.

From there you follow Alex through the annoying process that is having to dump out your bag for security and liquids and watch as Alex slides his right through. His carry on already separated perfectly.

“I’m a pro at this,” he smirks and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

You stop at Starbucks when you finally make it through, looking disheveled in the most unsexy way. You’ve only been in the airport for an hour and you feel like its been eight. “Iced coffee,” Alex asks, losing over at you, quite oblivious to how flustered the barista was getting.

“No,” you groan, still trying to sip up your bag. It had been so organized earlier. You had felt cute and comfortable in leggings and a midi dress with a pair of old vans you wouldn’t mind trashing. Now you just wanted to get on the damn plane. Or call the whole thing off. A ball of anxiety building in your palms at the thought of a nine hour plane ride. “something sugary thats only vaguely coffee.”

He orders caramel macchiato, grabs a couple of pastries and a bag of crisps, and then adds, “and a cake pop. No, make that two actually.” Before engaging in some kung fu with you as you both try to pay. “I’ve got this.”

“No, I invited you!”

“Al, it’s fine.”

“Can’t love,” he shakes his head, pushing your hand away from the atm machine, “I ordered so I have to pay.”

“That’s not how it works,” you grumble, watching as the barista tries not to audibly laugh.

But its too late. Alex smiling smugly as he lets you away to wait for your order.

“cake pops,” you question.

“You said yesterday that you wanted to make cake pops.”

“Make being the operative word.”

He shrugs, “well I would’ve made some for you love but I’ve come to realize I don’t actually have any kitchen equipment. Except for like one pan.”

“Is that what this has all really been about,” you tease, “trying to get at my pans?”

“The company not bad either,” he jokes, throwing an arm around your shoulders, hugging you to him.

“Well to be clear,” you smile widely up at him, “I’m really only here for the free weed. It’s such a bitch to pay for.”

“Now that you mention it,” Alex says, turning to face you, fully embracing you against him, “how do you feel about acid?”

“Wow Mr big rockstar,” you laugh, “I feel like the fifteen year old me that never went out on fridays would be proud.”

“You never went out to the pub?” Alex raises an eyebrow.

“I had strict parents,” you protest, smacking him lightly on the chest.

He chuckles.

“No. 34!”

He looks down at you, his eyes deep like a pool you couldn’t see the bottom of. You hold your breath, waiting for the shoe to drop. For Alex to lean in and kiss you the way he had when drunk. The way he’d looked at you in the doorway, cautious and besotted in an embarrassingly earnest way that made you blush.

But he’d been drunk then and wasn’t now.

You didn’t hold a candle to girls like Arielle. Not half as beautiful, so you were used to being overlooked. And worst of all, you had reserved nature when meeting people, giving the impression of being a stuck up bitch.

You’d gone to college. Boys like Alex don’t like girls like you.

“No. 34.”

Alex pulls away, pausing for a second looking down at you, before turning and grabbing the bag full of food.

Then you both finally make your way to the gate.

“Thats a lot of food,” you eye the large bag. A taxi rides worth of it from Starbucks of all places.

“You asked me about the plane food,” Alex shrugs, “I figured you'd want options.”

“That’s so fucking thoughtful Alex,” you blush. Unable to help yourself this time. Last night seems like ages ago. Texting Alex half asleep until you’d fallen asleep.

There’s a red tint to his cheeks, as he laughs. “But one of the cake pops is mine.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Boarding is easy. First class boards first and the groups are already being called as you walk up to the gate.

The nervousness jumps out again as walk into the propped up hallway leading to the plane. Your hand jerks, gripping onto Alex’s arm as the floor moves right as you step onto the plane.

“ ‘ve got you love,” he reassures you, slipping his hand into yours.

“I’m not scared.”

“If you say so.” The amusement in his voice keeping things light.

“I’m just not super great with heights. But as soon as we take off I’m good.” You take the aisle seat and okay, first class is where it’s at. All the legroom you could want. Soft buttery leather you weren’t worried about who was here before you.

“And here I was thinking of taking you to disneyland,” Alex teases as the flight attendant goes through the safety measures.

“Kids go to disneyland,” you frown, “it cant be that bad.”

“Did you suddenly lose your fear of heights,” Alex asks, with a slight grin to his lips. You have half an idea to slap his dumb face, or kiss the smirk off his mouth.

“I’m not scared of heights,” you pout. You weren’t. Just take off could be rough. But you were an adult. You could handle it.

“Of course you aren’t,” Alex states, still holding your hand in his.

You smile and can’t help but wish that you had met in some cute way at the coffee shop. That he’d stopped you, not because of his ex girlfriend, but because he wanted to talk to you. Starting some random rom-com, a safe option, and popping your headphones in, you close your eyes and lean back into your seat. Consciously taking your hand out of Alex’s hand, and gripping the armrest as the airplane takes off.

You were just friends at best.

You could do this.

Pretend to be a girlfriend. Alex didn’t need to know about your three, sometimes ten, feelings for him. He didn’t.

Because they weren’t that important.

It’s fine.

The plane jolts as it settles into the flight path.

“Okay we’re good,” you utter, opening your eyes, and catching Alex gazing over at you. A softness to his features that he only ever let shine through in private. When he was all caught up in a movie or going on a tangent about some obscure band from he seventies who’s record he’d just discovered.

You swallow thickly, refusing to be the one to look away.

“I’m glad you said yes.”

You smile bitterly, trying to tease a laugh out of him. “couldn’t let you embarrass yourself.”

“Yeah,” he replies evenly, turning to look out the window. London was now far beneath you. Clouds the only thing in sight. “Yeah.”

#mine #Alex Turner #alex turner fanfic #alex turner imagine #alex turner x reader #shadowplay

23 notes · View notes

honestgrins · 5 years

Text

Due Diligence || Klaroline

Caroline loves her job as Esther Mikaelson's executive assistant, and she is a damn good one. The next generation of Mikaelsons, however, make things more difficult than necessary.

Caroline strode down the sidewalk, easily balancing a tray of coffees as she dodged fellow pedestrians crowding her morning commute. She usually managed to avoid the rush by getting to work by 6:00, but Esther had allowed her a couple hours to see her mother off to the airport. Unfortunately, that left her fighting rush hour. Her focused expression seemed to clear a path for her, however, all the way to her destination. "Good morning, Andrew!"

The doorman greeted her with a wide smile, happy to accept the cappuccino she passed him. "Good morning to you, Miss Forbes. Before you head upstairs, you should know that Mrs. Mikaelson's children are still on the premises."

"Thanks for the heads up," she sighed, wincing. Family breakfasts were an occupational hazard when Caroline had to work from Esther's penthouse, and she would rather not incur the wrath of the younger generation by interrupting. A schedule was a schedule, though, and she wouldn't let Rebekah's sneers or Elijah's condescension change that. "How many?"

Andrew gave a sympathetic nod. "All of them."

Her eyes bugged slightly in surprise, though she tried to smile through it as she made her way to the elevators. She passed the operator a latte. "Hi, Reggie. I hear it's a full house."

"You heard right, Miss, and they're in fine form today," the old man warned. "If you don't mind me saying so."

"Never," she promised, having bought thousands of coffees for the staff over the years for exactly this reason. "Your secrets are safe with me." He tipped his cup to her before keying in the penthouse code, and they settled in for the long ride up. "I don't suppose you heard what has the family so riled?"

Shrugging, Reggie didn't seem too confident. "It was really tense, what with all five of them squeezed in here with me. They were snapping more than usual."

Caroline sighed, wishing she could lift out her own caffeine boost without upsetting the tray. The Mikaelson children were a viper's nest on a good day. There were only two topics that could make it worse: money or positioning within the company. She was a damn good executive assistant, and Mikaelson Industries only ran as smoothly as it did because of what she did for Esther; should the matriarch decide to retire, though, it would take a hell of a raise to keep her, too. Putting one of them in charge would only throw the family into chaos, and she had no desire to watch that happen - let alone to be at their competing beck and call.

Like a death knell for her sanity, the elevator bell rang upon reaching the top floor. "Wish me luck," she joked as Reggie waved her off. Slipping off to the kitchen, she set down the remaining coffees and her tote on the counter, digging out the heels she'd planned to wear for the day.

"Oh, Caroline," a familiar voice clucked from the other doorway, "those tennies do not go with that outfit."

With as polite a smile as she could manage, Caroline quickly swapped out her sneakers and tucked them back into her bag. "Hello, Rebekah. Some of us take the subway on occasion, and even all of my pageant training wouldn't be enough to make that bearable in pumps." As soon as her hands were free, she grabbed her iced triple espresso and took a very unladylike gulp. "I assume breakfast is still going on, so I'll just sneak back to the office."

Mrs. Pearson, the housekeeper, entered the kitchen bearing a stack of dishes. Caroline lifted the last cup toward her and smiled, tossing the tray in the recycling bin. But before she could make her escape, Rebekah laced her arm through Caroline's, putting the other girl on instant alert. "Nonsense, you should join us. Nik has finally graced us with his presence, and I know he'd be thrilled to see you."

She really didn't need the perfectly manicured nails pressed into her arm to remind her just how dangerous Rebekah Mikaelson could be - and yet.

They all but marched down to the formal dining room, Rebekah maneuvering her to enter first. "Look who finally decided to show up," she announced cheerily. "Remind me, Caroline, what do we pay you for?"

Biting back every retort she'd ever rehearsed to her bathroom mirror, she gave a friendly grin. The plastic of her cup bowed under her clenched grip, but her face was pleasant enough. "Good morning, everyone. Just wanted to say hello before catching up on the office."

Esther sipped her tea, seemingly unbothered by the interruption. "Caroline, I trust your mother is safely delivered to the airport."

"Yes, thank you." She had to fight back a strange urge to curtsey, despite years of being used to the courtly accent and rigid manners. Mindful of the other, less trustworthy ears trained on her to hunt for personal weakness, she figured it safest to focus on work. "I've been monitoring your correspondence on the way over here, everything seems to be progressing as normal."

Taking her seat next to a sprawled out Kol, Rebekah leaned forward like she had a juicy secret to share. "Caroline takes the subway, you know."

"Many people do," Elijah pointed out from behind his open newspaper. "It's hardly our business how Miss Forbes travels to work, especially during peak hours." She almost felt vindicated from the usually cold chief financial officer, only for him to pointedly check his watch. "I suppose she's to be commended in making good time despite the late hour."

"Indeed." Finn stirred his tea with a grating scrape of the spoon, and Caroline could feel the individual muscles of her jaw clench at the sound.

Kol, meanwhile, appeared utterly pleased at the awkward moment. "A clever rejoinder as always, brother," he teased before turning toward her. "You look lovely as always, darling. Doesn't she look lovely, Nik?"

The air might have been sucked from the room with how she could only hear the blood rushing in her ears. She nodded toward the last pair of curious eyes, forcing a quick smile. "Klaus, what a nice surprise. Welcome home." His attention burned along her skin as she glanced away, nodding to Esther. "I'll be in the office when you're ready. The new publishing acquisition is on standby for streamlining operations, and Alaric has asked for a half hour to go over broad legal strategy against the Lockwood startup."

Finn frowned in that stony way of his. "Why am I not in for that, Mother?"

"Because Alaric is better on the offensive, dear," Esther replied. "Thank you, Caroline, pencil Alaric in after lunch with Richard Lockwood. We should have a better grasp of his company's intentions once I actually meet the man."

"Done." With a final nod, Caroline did her best to escape without hurrying, but she knew it couldn't be that simple. Just as she stepped into the office, a warm hand grasped her elbow. "Klaus-"

"You're not happy to see me."

Her eyes closed at the uncertain flirt in his voice, a small smile turning her lips anyway at the memories it conjured. "I'm...surprised. I thought your grand hotelier plans were going to keep you in Europe for the year."

Klaus tugged lightly on the end of her ponytail, smirking at the way her whole face opened up in affront. "Surely, someone so intimately familiar with the Mikaelson brand knows I can afford a plane ticket or two," he joked. "You've been ignoring my calls. I find I don't like that."

Pushing on with her usual routine of a work day, Caroline busied her hands with computers and folders. Still, she felt him watching and couldn't make herself ignore it; the blush was warm on her cheeks. "It was a one-time thing, Klaus. We agreed."

"You said it, I didn't argue. I figured you would allow me the opportunity to properly woo you," he tempted, sitting in the chair across from her desk even as she fled to Esther's inner office. His volume just increased so she could hear him. "Hence the phone calls, sweetheart."

Caroline leaned over the antique desk, hands planted firmly on the agenda she'd been laying out. Relieved he hadn't followed her in, she took a deep breath, at a loss for how she ended up having a mind-blowing, one-night stand with her boss's son. Worse, she wasn't all that sure she wanted it to stay at one night, either. "You don't want to date me, Klaus."

His laugh was warm and immediate. "Funny, I think that's exactly what I want to do. In fact, I have a reservation tonight at your favorite sushi restaurant for just that purpose."

"My favorite sushi place?"

"Mrs. Pearson is an exceptional hostess, love, and she's always had a bit of a soft spot for me. She was a font of information on your takeaway selections."

She scowled, knowing full well he couldn't see her. "Well, that's just cheating."

"Perhaps, but I have no regrets."

With a scoff, she stepped back out into her space and found him looking at the framed photos littering her desk. "Seriously," she said, snatching one of her dad with a baby Caroline from his hands, "I work sixteen hours a day more often than not, I know everything about your mom, and even I'm not that good at compartmentalizing to handle dating her son. You don't want to date me."

Frowning, his hands steepled under his chin. "Because my mother would complicate things?"

"Because you get some thrill out of seducing your mother's executive assistant," she sadly accused. "Congrats, you did it, and we had a great time. Why can't you leave it at that?"

Any levity in his expression drained in a second as he considered her words. "Why are you so adamant we have to leave it at that?"

Caroline blinked, taken off guard at his plaintive tone. "I- How would you see this going? I feed Esther small talk hints at galas with you trailing after us? You fly me out to France or Japan for the weekend, only for me to take the fanciest walk of shame from the airport to her office?"

"You'd be ashamed to date me," he realized, his jaw tense.

Something bristled along her spine like a warning, and it scared her. "Well, no, but-"

His eyebrows rose, the smug playboy who'd seduced her over late night market reports and art history replaced by an earnest, lonely man. "I like you, Caroline," he said, his voice painfully honest. "And I'd like to see more of you, on your terms. You're right, it might take work to finesse the details. I'm willing to put in that work...if you are."

She licked her lips, her fingers fidgeting over her daily planner. "I, well," she sighed, suddenly winded. "This is real?"

And his smug smirk returned as he reached for her shaky hands, covering them with his own. "Sushi, eight-thirty." When she opened her mouth to protest, his smirk widened until she saw dimples. "Mother promised Rebekah over breakfast to finish work early tonight, something about an emergency spa appointment. I doubt she'll keep you past seven."

A part of her wanted to make her own emergency spa appointment for a surprise first date, but she did appreciate the consideration for her schedule. "Still doesn't leave me much time to spruce up," she said, fighting a smile at how his whole face brightened for what sounded like a 'yes.' "Don't you want me to look pretty?"

Like he couldn't hold himself back anymore, Klaus stood from his seat and leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. "You're beautiful, love. I'll see you tonight."

As he turned to leave, her stomach gave a giddy leap. She didn't want that feeling to end. "Did you really find out my favorite place from Mrs. Pearson?"

Esther and Finn's voices floated in from the hallway, and he kept his own low. "I suppose we'll find out, won't we?" With a final wink, he strode out of the office, leaving her a puddle of anticipation despite needing to work a twice-shortened day for his mother.

"Of course he did," she muttered to herself, not quite able to be angry about it. Maybe testing the boundaries of their relationship would be more fun than she had feared. She really couldn't wait to find out.

#klaroline #kcauweek2019 #klaroline drabbles #day 3: all human #i'm late i know i'm sorry #but i wrote it anyway #so here you go #fic: due diligence #almost everything

95 notes · View notes

sirkkasnow · 4 years

Text

16 Hang Onto A Good Thing With Both Hands

Ao3 link

7/29/13-7/30/13 Monday-Tuesday

Stan came to by slow degrees, warmer than usual, and peeled up an eyelid to survey the usual morning blur. His view was interrupted by what he decided was an eyebrow.

He kissed that lightly, then the orbit of the slumbering eye beneath it, then the bridge of the nose.

Clary was just beginning to stir as he drew her into his arms and left a stubbly trail of smooches along her cheekbone and down to the corner of her mouth. Her lashes fluttered and it took a moment for her to focus.

Eventually she smiled, soft and contented, and pulled herself in to rub her nose against his. “Hello, handsome.”

“Good mornin’, gorgeous.” She straight-up grinned at that. They tangled lazy limbs together under the blankets and traded stray kisses through the drowsy stupor of waking.

After a while his palm drifted to her hip, fingers fanning out to confirm that yes, she really did have a butt as nice as those sculpted legs. Clary’s eyes opened slowly; she studied him in knowing amusement as he tinted pink.

“Is that your hand on my ass?”

“Maybe? It’s gotta go somewhere, right?”

“Mmhm.” She caught hold of his shoulder, pushed as she rose to pin him flat to the mattress, kissed him breathless and then wriggled out of his grasp like a determined eel while he was too discombobulated to put up a fight.

“Ah, c’mon, please, five more minutes,” Stan protested. Clary plunked his glasses onto his chest and he caught them on reflex.

“Sorry, sailor, but you promised you’d behave.”

��Five more minutes and y’won’t want me to.” Stan managed to hook the glasses into place and leered up as she swung her legs over and pivoted, perched neatly on the edge of his bed.

“That’s almost certainly true, which is why I’m going to head downstairs and get breakfast started.”

“Damn shame.”

“Just leaving you some incentive to come ashore sooner than later.” She corralled the bedhead chaos of her hair into its elastic, then leaned over to stroke the prickly line of his jaw. He turned into the contact, eyes half closed. “Besides, I guarantee that Mabel got the others on the trail early.”

“They’re almost six hours out - ” He paused, then dragged a hand down his face with a groan. “No, y’got a point. They’ll make it before lunch. She’s relentless. What time is it?”

“Quarter to eight. Eggs, potatoes, onions okay?”

“C’mon, like one flapjack?”

Clary’s smile flashed wide and she tapped him under the chin. “Pancakes on the side, you got it. See you in a few.” She strutted barefoot out the door with the bicentennial brandy dangling from one hand, filching his fancy Northwest Manor towel on the way past.

He wondered if she was always going to be this obnoxiously chipper in the morning. Having a chance to find out didn’t really sound so bad, though.

Stan swung by the office before he wandered back around to the kitchen. Clary manned a couple of skillets at the stovetop with professional ease. He dropped off a heavy folder on the table and slid in behind to loop an arm around her waist. “You’re gonna burn the onions.”

“If you keep nibbling on me like that, I just might burn the onions.” She didn’t, even with Stan unwilling to let go through the whole process, shifting to follow when she reached for the salt or the spatula. They devoured every crumb with little to say, slouched comfortably in their chairs. Her feet rested against his slippers under the table.

“Wanna give me a hand puttin’ that bottle back?”

“Find me a telephone book or something and I’ll do it.” Clary had a much easier time of it on the countertop. They came up with a couple massive cans of crushed tomatoes for her to balance on, Stan’s steadying hands at her ankles as she followed his instructions to get the hidden cabinet open and shove the brandy as far back as she could manage.

“All right, kid. One last job for the Shack’s honorary accountant before I cut y’loose for the season.” She picked her way back down the stepstool with a hand on his shoulder for balance, cocking a curious brow, and he nodded over to the table. “Got the receipts for ya.”

“Oh-ho. I’ve been wondering how we did.” Stan slid the folder over. Clary fished out her phone, pulled up some calculator thing, and her fingers started to fly.

She counted money as efficiently as any casino bunny, fwip fwip fwip fwip, slapping down the bills in mounting piles and sliding each into place below scrawled scraps designating Greasy’s, picnic supplies, servers, food. Stan sipped his coffee and watched in happy fascination. Every now and then she’d swipe a thumb along the edge of her tongue for traction on the paper.

“What’re you looking at,” Clary murmured after a few minutes.

“Two of the most beautiful things I’ve laid eyes on in years.”

Her lips twitched up at a corner. “And what are those?”

“A huge pile of honest money, and you.” He was coming to love pulling a blush out of her. “Where’d a paper-pusher learn how to count like that?”

“Wasn’t always a lawyer, darling.”

By the time she was done the stack of unassigned cash had grown a couple inches high. She flipped her phone around so he could whistle at the number, then scooped up the whole heap and riffled the bills with a sharp grin. “I’ll give you this much, you weren’t kidding about the summer money burning holes in everyone’s pockets.”

“Wouldn’t’ve pulled it off without our star attraction.” Stan raised his coffee mug in salute. ‘That’s all you, princess. Enjoy the fruits of your labor an’ all that.”

Her brow creased. “Really? Did Soos get anything off the top? I know we covered expenses.”

“Nah, he insisted. Gonna have to work on that.”

Clary squared the stack of profits, counted off three slim groups of a hundred bucks each, then placed the rest in the middle of the table. “Could you split that? Half for Soos, half for the kids.” She frowned for a moment. “Half for the kids’ college accounts, anyway, or a car fund or something. That might be a bit much for summer allowance.”

“You sure?”

“I didn’t do it for the money, Stan.” Her bare toes skimmed lightly up his shin under the table and he couldn’t help but twitch. “Besides, I’m definitely going home with the grand prize.”

“Fine. Fine, I’ll give it all to these ingrates you’re not even gonna see again for like a year, if you’re even willin’ t’come back to Gravity Falls, if I’m even back here anytime soon - ” The bluster did a lousy job of covering his blush but watching her grin as he scooped up the cash and stuffed it back in its envelope was well worth it.

“I might be. The place is growing on me.”

“Yeah, like a fungus,” he muttered, and she chuckled under her breath. “What’s that for?”

“These?” Clary picked up the three skinny stacks. “Hosts’ pay.” She slapped one down in front of Stan, tucked the second into her pocket and waved the third in front of his eyes. “And you’re taking me to dinner next time.”

“I thought you were pickin’ up the tab!”

“I’ll get the drinks, but dinner’s on you.” She winked and plopped the last few bills down. “All right, we’d better get decent before Mabel comes tearing in here hoping to catch us in flagrante.”

They cut it close, splitting up to get dressed and sharing the bathroom mirror for final touches. Her kerchief for the day was a thrift-store find, a riot of abstract hearts in shades of pink. By eleven they reconvened at the kitchen.

Stan settled down for a second cup of coffee. Clary glanced up from the ingredients for one last sour cream coffee cake as they heard the side door slam open and footsteps pelting up the stairs. “AHA!” came down along with the sound of another door banging against the wall, followed by “Darn it!”

Ford stuck his head through the doorway as the racket clattered back downstairs and turned down the hallway leading to Clary’s storage room. “Good morning, you two.” He and Clary exchanged a measured look. “Everything all right, Stanley?”

“Oh, we’re great, talked it all out, had a real nice evenin’.”

“AHA!” Bang. “Darn it!”

“Excellent! Fantastic, even! Precisely what I was hoping to hear!” Ford’s cautious expression cracked wide open and he grinned as he clasped Clary’s shoulder. “Welcome to the Pines circle, my dear, I’m afraid things may get rather odd from here on out but it’s a delight to have you aboard. Dipper, my boy! May I borrow your phone?”

Dipper shuffled through the doorway, holding up his phone for Ford to swipe on the way past. He dropped into the seat opposite Stan and rested his head on the table. “Morning, everyone.”

Clary pulled a warm plate of leftover pancakes out of the oven and set it in front of him. “Good morning, Dipper.”

“AHA!” Mabel skidded into the kitchen, blinked at Stan and Clary, then folded her arms with a deepening pout. “Oh, darn it, are you guys a thing yet or what?!”

That was about it for peace and quiet.

Stan slunk out of the kitchen as soon as he could get away with it, abandoning Clary to Mabel’s insistent interrogation. They’d need dinner eventually, and like hell he was going to let Clary cook again on her last night in the place, so he kept himself busy scraping ash and charred grease out of the neglected charcoal grill. As a result he had a perfect vantage point to watch Soos’ second batch of Monday tourists out on the grounds.

He also had a perfect view of a much newer but still decaled Tate-and-Backle pickup truck rolling in. McGucket scrambled down from the passenger side to meet up with Ford and a bemused Clary at her station wagon. They popped open the hood and both front doors, and McGucket started explaining the upgrades they’d made at a speed that would’ve been confusing even in easy earshot.

Stan tuned much of it out, watching warily to make sure nothing blew up, until he was distracted by a trickle of further arrivals. Grenda and Candy turned up on bicycles. Pacifica hopped out of a sleek black car, trailed by the driver lugging a heavy tote bag. They took over a corner of the yard to set up what proved to be a full-on badminton set. Mabel barreled out of the house a few minutes later with the battered box containing the lawn darts.

“Looks like we’re gonna have another picnic!” Soos ambled over with a bucket full of grill tools. “I’ll finish this up, Mr. Pines, there’re plenty of hot dogs in the deep freeze.”

Stan was streaked with soot to the elbows by now. “Yeah, fine by me, about time someone else took care of cookin’.” He glanced over to the Fairlane. Clary leaned against a fender with arms folded, engaged in intense conversation with both Ford and McGucket. With no idea what that was about, he headed in to scrub up.

By the time he wandered back out Wendy had arrived and was casually swatting a birdie over the badminton net. Pacifica and Dipper were lined up on the far side, both dashing desperately to keep up with smacking it back.

Clary sat on the battered old couch, legs stretched out, ankles crossed. Stan dropped into place alongside her and she tipped into his space a bit as the springs creaked under his weight. They traded a fleeting glance; Stan extended his arm along the top cushions and she settled easily into its curve.

“So, you and Stan, huh?” Wendy batted the birdie over the net without even a glance, looking Clary over with open interest.

“Yep.” Clary laid her hand over Stan’s at her shoulder.

“You know he’s a lousy boss and a total skinflint, right?”

“You’re not even workin’ for me this summer, Wendy!”

Wendy grinned back. “So, you kissed him yet? Tambry’s video was pretty blurry.”

“Oh, I’ve kissed him.”

“Prove it!” Mabel called. Clary turned, smooth as you please, and pecked Stan sweetly on the cheek. He returned the favor as a collective groan went up. “Oh, come on, that doesn’t count!”

“That’s all you get, ya thirsty little gremlins! You want a sideshow, go buy a ticket!”

They endured a few more catcalls and hoots from the peanut gallery, Clary shaking with low laughter, until she finally patted his hand and rose. “That’s it. I’ve got to go even this out a bit. Hey, Pacifica!” She hopped down from the porch and strode purposefully over to the net. “You game to pair up with me against Team Backwoods here?”

“Oh, it’s on, lady. I mean, you’re not as decrepit as Stan and Stan Two, but Team Backwoods rules. C’mon, Dipper.” Wendy tossed a spare racquet over and the four of them went at it with more energy than Stan could really bear to watch.

He watched anyway, slouched and more than content to let everyone else do the work for a while. Soos had the grill going by the time the sun had tracked far enough west to dip below the tips of the pine trees. Susan showed up with the karaoke machine, a winning smile and a cherry-pie bribe that got her a plate and a hot dog in short order. Soos’ Abuelita held court in a tufted armchair her grandson hauled out from the office. A scatter of mismatched lawn chairs popped up to support the mismatched guests as they drifted in.

Clary wandered back over to the porch with a couple of pop bottles dangling from one hand. “You know those lawn darts are totally illegal.”

Dipper yelped in terror as Grenda’s dart overshot the target and thudded into the ground an inch from his foot. “Of course I know! That’s why I tracked down a couple extra sets. Wanna grab a bite?”

“This doesn’t count as dinner, Stan.”

“Why not? You’ve got the drinks right there!”

“Not quite yet.” The bottles clinked as she set them down at the corner of the sofa and tipped her chin over to Ford. “These are the last two. Cooler’s empty.”

“Oh,” he said, then “oh.” The corners of her eyes crinkled with amusement.

It was so easy it was damned near embarrassing. Stan took one side of the cooler’s handle, Clary the other. They carried it sloshing between them until, with a perfectly coordinated swing, they dumped the icy meltwater right over Ford’s head.

Ford let out a steamwhistle shriek and bounced to his feet, sputtering in indignation. Clary set hands to her hips and stood her ground; Stan watched his brother deflate a little.

“Well,” said Ford. “I suppose you’ve got a point.” He shook water off his glasses, shoved back his drenched forelock and shifted attention to Stan.

“Oooohhh no no no no.” Stan held up both hands, rocking back on his heels. “You can dunk me once we’re back on the boat if y’want, but this’s payback fair and square, Sixer. You’ll have plenty of chances.”

“You’re right, of course.” Ford offered a hand to Clary. “One last dance, then? Even if it’s a bit damp?”

“Oh, by all means. Come on, I know that karaoke machine is around here somewhere.”

“Ford, you do not get to steal her, she’s gotta go in like twelve hours!”

Ford stole her anyway, that jerk. Someone got the music going and scattered laughter rose on the warm, still air as evening finally claimed the Shack. Hell with it, he thought, and slipped inside to rummage up what was left of the fireworks plus Clary’s scant handful of bottle rockets. Stan set himself up on the roof and fired off a single starburst to catch everyone’s attention.

“Hey!” That was Clary far below, hands cupped to direct her indignant shout. “Those’re mine!”

“Better get up here then!” he yelled back. Wendy pointed her at the gift shop and soon he could hear the vague scuffle of someone scrambling up the narrow ladder.

“Oh, god,” Clary muttered as she emerged a little ways up the roof. “This is steep.”

“Take it slow, you’ll be fine. C’mere.” Stan reached up and caught her hand. She warily picked her way down and stayed well away from the edge. “What, heights a problem?”

“Who likes heights?”

“Might as well get used to it, sweetheart, things’re gonna get a lot weirder than high places around us.”

Clary settled down after a minute or two as he lined things up, finally crouching near the edge as he handed off his spare matches. “Literal bottles for our bottle rockets?”

“Consider it creative recycling. Go get ‘em, kid.”

Fuses crackled and threw sparks as Stan set ‘em up and Clary knocked ‘em down, setting fire to everything he put in front of her, no rhyme or reason to it, a ragged fusillade of noise and light. They got ooohs and aaahs of approval from their audience anyway. She let the matches burn down to her fingertips and waved each out with a sharp flick of the wrist just in time to strike the next.

Explosions lit up her features in washes of color. The last rockets went up and she glanced his way, lifting the match to blow it out with a single puff of breath and a cocked brow.

Stan yielded to impulse and slung an arm around her waist, tugging her away from the edge - he landed butt-first, Clary half across his lap - and kissed her quick and hard, catching the edge of her front teeth in his lower lip for his trouble. The slow drag of her tongue soothed away that little hurt easy enough.

The asphalt shingles still held traces of the afternoon’s heat and Stan was more than content to serve as Clary’s pillow. “You could come upstairs tonight. If you want. Same rules.”

“Tempting.” She raised her head from his chest just enough to catch his eye, smile slanted and rueful. “Think I’ve got to decline, though, it’ll be hard enough to get out of here in the morning.”

“You could stay a little longer.”

“I’d love to. But I really can’t.”

Stan pulled a breath and let it go. “I get that. You gonna be okay? It’s a long-ass drive back to Maryland.”

“My nephew scored a cheap ticket to Vancouver and he’s going to drive the rest of the way back with me. I’ll head up to Seattle, do the necessary, then take a couple of days to spoil myself at a spa before I pick him up. We’ll be fine.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it covered. You keep me posted, right?”

Her grin was a sharp flash in the gathering dark. “You are gonna get so sick of your phone chirping at you.”

They rested there for a while, ignoring increasingly exasperated calls from the lawn down below. At length another scuffle scrambled up the ladder. Mabel thudded down on the roof, snapping a picture with her phone before Clary could do more than half sit up. “Oh, come on, you aren’t even smooching! Are you going to get downstairs for pie or what?”

Stan made it down the ladder first and managed to snag the last two slivers of pie. Soos passed out ice pops from the gift shop freezer over fruitless protests - the chicken picnic money would more than cover a bunch of popsicles, but it was the principle of the thing.

As the sky grew fully dark folks started to disperse. Clary handed out hugs and kisses and handshakes and exchanged a cheery wave with the departing McGucket that had to portend disaster somewhere down the line.

At the end it was down to Ford and Clary and Stan draped wearily across a trio of lawn chairs. Conversation had dwindled down to basically nothing. Clary’s fingers stayed hooked loosely into Stan’s.

He wasn’t sure if it was his effort or hers that kept their clasped hands swinging faintly between them.

“You all packed?”

“Nothing left but the overnight bag.”

“Gas?”

“Three-quarters of a tank.”

“Breakfast?”

“Cold cereal won’t kill me.” Clary rolled her head to curve him a tired smile and his fingers tightened down in hers. “I should get to bed. Need to be up bright and early.”

“Yup, suppose you should.” She didn’t budge for a good few minutes and he didn’t push. The lawn chair creaked when she finally rose. Clary’s kiss grazed his temple and lingered, and he leaned into it for as long as he could. Her palm pressed Ford’s shoulder as she crossed between them. Stan watched her head into the Shack, slipping easily into the shadows just within the door.

“What’s your take on her?” he asked.

“I like her better than that siren you spent most of February flirting with.”

Stan cackled. “Ah, he was cute. Best night’s sleep I’d had in ages.”

“He was going to eat you, you know.”

“You took care of it like a badass, and he turned out to be all kinds of helpful with that so-called Atlantis cipher you were tearin’ your hair out over. We came out ahead like we usually do. So.” He waggled brows at his brother. “When’re we hittin’ up the European coast?”

“I suppose I can move Finland and Lake Saimaa up the priority list,” Ford replied.

They both turned in soon after that, a bit before midnight for once. Stan sprawled across the center of his nice full-size orthopedic bed, taking up as much space as he wanted, and settled in to sleep.

He found himself staring up at the ceiling he couldn’t see. The house was quiet, all of the faint creaks of the joint familiar to his long-accustomed ear. Everyone was in their place - Ford in his basement fortress, the kids in the room they were going to outgrow for real by next summer, her down in the storage room that would go back to dust and old merch once she was gone.

Some wistful corner of his brain kept hoping she’d change her mind and come up to join him, but exhaustion dragged him under before she did.

Stan woke before his alarm went off, pulled himself together grudgingly and stumped downstairs into a minor Mabel whirlwind. Clary sat on the bottom step, posing for photos with Waddles and an expression of cheerful resignation.

“Great! Grunkle Stan, bend into the frame - yeah, right there - no, don’t just walk on by!” He went right past Mabel and her protests, Clary’s laughter chasing after him, and ended up in the kitchen. There was cold cereal, sure, but the last coffeecake as well, and he hacked out a chunk of that to stash at the back of the freezer for later.

He managed to get most of a cup of coffee down before Mabel hauled him outside into morning sunshine, shoving a small, squashy wrapped-and-beribboned package into his hand. “That’s for her, from you, got it? Okay! Hey Clary!”

Clary was halfway across the yard, overnight bag slung over one shoulder, but making little progress with Waddles trying to trip her up all the way. “Mabel, honeybee, could you please convince Waddles that I’m not trying to sneak off without saying goodbye?” Stan spotted Ford’s legs hanging out the passenger-side door of the Fairlane - probably screwing around with that black box he and McGucket had installed.

“Oh, I know you’re not sneaking off because we’re gonna bribe you not to. Presents!” Mabel sang. On cue, Dipper staggered out of the side door, blinded by the stack of brightly wrapped boxes he carried. Mabel plucked the stuffed blue whale out from under his arm and ran ahead to the station wagon. “But the only one you get to see is this one.”

Waddles disentangled himself and trotted obligingly after Mabel as Clary protested. “Mabel! That was a loan.”

“Lady Bluemington has taken a liking to you. Who am I to argue with the power of plush? Besides, you’re gonna be landlocked for months and I want you to be thinking of the glories of the open ocean.” Mabel’s hands described a familiar marquee arc in the air and to Stan’s amusement Clary went pink.

“I’m a pretty poor sailor, Mabel.”

“Now you’ve got plenty of incentive to learn! Right? Right!”

Ford took the overnight bag off Clary’s hands and tucked it into the back seat, along with the heap of presents. “No peeking,” said Dipper firmly, “and no opening those until you’re on the road! - or at least at the next rest stop, no more accidents!”

“No more accidents. I solemnly swear I’m going to get there in one piece.” Clary flashed the three-fingered Scout salute, then leaned in to peck Ford chastely on the cheek. “Thank you for all the repairs.”

“Ah, well, let’s not do that again. Thank you for all the lovely meals and the fine company. I look forward to continuing our discussion!” Stan eyed his brother warily and got an innocent smile in return.

“I guess that’s about it.” Clary looked over to the house and back to the car, tugging at her kerchief with a fingertip - it was the tiny nautical flags today - then bent and pulled Mabel in for a full-on embrace. Dipper got dragged along by his sister but didn’t seem too grossed out by the equivalent of auntie kisses. “I can’t thank you guys enough,” she said, muffled between the kids. “I really thought this trip was going to be awful but you’ve made it great. I’ll miss all of you.”

The strain in her voice was easy to catch and Stan shouldered his way in as Clary straightened. “All right, get lost, all a’you, I gotta show her a couple last things with the engine. G’wan! Get!” He waved shooing hands at the lot of them, and Ford nudged the gremlins back towards the house.

“Bye Clary!”

“Be careful out there on the road!” Clary flashed an approving thumb up for Dipper and watched the three of them disappear into the Shack, then leaned wearily against the Fairlane’s fender. Stan passed over his handkerchief and she sniffed into it for a moment.

“Ah, c’mon, it’s not that bad, it’s not like I haven’t figured out how t’spam you with text messages.”

Clary managed a chuckle and blinked at him over the hanky with glittering eyes. “She would’ve loved you guys.”

“‘Course she would’ve. We’re lovable.” Stan shifted his weight, shoved hands into his jacket pockets and ended up smashing Mabel’s squashy package in the process. “Uh - look, I got you a little somethin’ for the road - “

“Did you now.”

“Hey, you know there’s no point arguin’ with Mabel - “ Stan pressed the package into her offered hand; she tore off the crumpled paper to reveal a set of fuzzy dice crocheted in red with gold pips. Clary threw her head back and laughed. “See, now, if I could do a damn thing with yarn that is absolutely what I would’ve made you.”

“I love them. They’re perfect. I’ve got something for you, too.”

Clary dipped into her pocket and pressed an envelope into his palm. He sifted carefully through the glossy pictures inside, glitter stickers slapped into the corners. Stan and Clary bickering over eggs in the kitchen. Lit up by the glow of fireworks. In fishing hats, his expression more gobsmacked than he remembered it being. Leaning over the Fairlane’s engine. Spinning out across the museum floor in front of a dazzled crowd.

Stan held up the shot of the two of them dancing at Greasy’s under twinkling lights. “Mabel wasn’t even there for this one!”

“Probably lifted it from someone else’s video. She told me to make absolutely sure you got these.” The obvious question was sketched out in the worried lines around her eyes, but when he hesitated she patted his arm in understanding.

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” he admitted.

“That goes both ways. We’ll deal with it as it comes.”

“So, ah - “ Stan tucked the fresh memories into his jacket for later perusal and took a step to close the distance. “I mean I know I’m gonna see you again, so this isn’t exactly goodbye - “

“You’ve got obligations and so do I.” Clary swayed away, hands linked behind her.

“Oh I am gonna get to you, sweetpea. Though if I end up yodelin’ or stuffed into lederhosen or somethin’ there might be hell to pay.“

“A gift of a baby goat is traditional. Or so my niece claims.” Lowered lashes veiled her eyes as she sidestepped him with the practiced grace of a matador, slipping out of easy smooching range until his patience began to fray.

Stan played along for the moment, stalking intently after her. “You’re not gonna leave me here without a kiss for the road, right?”

“No way. But I’m waiting for our cue.” He managed to cut a quick glance over to the Shack without looking too much like he was doing it, and spotted the curtain pulled back just a bit by a little hand.

“I did not take you to be quite this mean, Miz Merrick.”

“It’s our job as responsible adults to pretend that delayed gratification is a good thing, darling.”

“Who’re you callin’ responsible?”

“Would you two just kiss already!?!”

Mabel’s rising yell of frustration went off like an air-raid siren. Stan grinned wide and rocked back on his heels. Clary cracked up, knees half buckling as she reached out. His hands caught her waist; he swept her half off her feet and kissed her laughing mouth until she dwindled to giggles and then to happy humming against his lips.

Stan held her tight for longer than he needed to, trailing firm kisses along her jawline, her arms twining up to loop around his neck as she sighed in pleasure and regret. “We really should’ve figured this out a week ago.”

“I have ways t’make up for lost time.”

He felt her shiver as she drew careful breath and leaned in to whisper. “I’m counting on it.”

They stayed entwined like that, her hair sun-warm against his cheek, until Dipper called out. “Can I look yet?”

Gently, grudgingly, Clary disentangled herself and drew away. His fingers clung to hers until she was out of reach. “I’ll text you when I stop for the night. See you around, sailor.”

“Take care of yourself, sweetheart.”

Clary lifted an arm, focus shifting as she waved enthusiastically at the rest of the crew on the porch. Her last look at him was wistful and soft but determined, and she winked a tiny wink as she pivoted away and marched up to the Fairlane, dropping into the driver’s seat and dragging the seatbelt across. A moment’s work set the fuzzy dice dangling from the rear-view mirror. The old wagon cranked up like a dream, the big V8 engine so quiet it did little more than purr as she pulled out down the drive.

Stan stood and watched her go until the last bit of blue had disappeared between the trees and the dust had settled. Mabel and Dipper came out to flank him.

“Soooo I guess we’re going to be seeing her again?” Dipper said hopefully.

“Yup.”

“Aaaaaand it was worth taking a chance on telling her what you really feel?” Mabel nudged him in the ribs with an elbow.

“Maybe more show than tell, pumpkin.” Stan’s face ached with a smile that wouldn’t fade. He turned back towards the Shack, clapping hands together. “All right, you two. Day’s young and there’s plenty to do. Who wants to help me haul the S back up?”

There was already a Clary-shaped hole in his immediate plans.

Stan had no idea how this long-distance thing would work, but he was eager to find out.

Tumblr masterpost

Mabel shouts in pure frustration. “Would you two just kiss already!” Clary’s grinning at you like the sun just came out after two years of winter.

Kiss her.

#Gravity Falls #gfdatingsim #DDtMMW #Swooning Over Stans #Stanley Pines #OClicious #fanfic

7 notes · View notes

mpmwrites · 5 years

Text

Positive and Negative Preferences

Hello all! I perticipated in @dbhevents Secret Santa, and I wrote a fic for @exfriends!

This is a Reed900 Coffee Shop AU, rated T for language.

Hello darling @exfriends. I am so very sorry you had to wait this long. I’m afraid it’s entirely my fault, because I bit off more than I could chew around the holidays this year, and unfortunately that led to quite the delay. I also want to apologize that I didn’t go exactly with what you requested. I saw that you liked other types of AUs and this kind of just clicked into place for me. (But if it’s really not your thing, I’d be happy to write something new. You deserve a great gift!) Here’s hoping you enjoy.

Also a thanks to @the-writing-of-a-gay-idiot for giving me so much feedback!

On with the show!

It wasn't that he wanted to be an asshole. Really, he knew he was an asshole, and could see himself acting it out in real time, but he had absolutely no reason to try to be better. Part of it was the coffee thing. He'd hardly slept in college, and became a six-cup-a-day person, and he'd rarely admit it, but he was even worse without caffeine. So, nearly fifteen years later, he figured that if coffee was gonna keep him from getting fired for shitting on someone stupid, he could be addicted to worse things.

When the android behind the counter suggested that he was their most frequent customer, he shrugged. Most days, he came in three times: on the way to work, on lunch, and before catching the bus home. Large coffee, nonfat milk, and one sugar. Of course it was always perfectly sweetened, perfectly steaming, because it was an android who made it, and most days he didn’t even have to say his order before Richard was ringing him up with a smile.

He never stayed, preferring to take his coffee back to work or drink it on the bus so he could enjoy it in relative privacy. He wasn't much interested in sitting around while the 20-somethings giggled their way through their overly-sweet lattes, and certainly wasn't going to indulge in some calorie-laden baked goods when he could get something healthier and cheaper just about anywhere else. He could take his day home and tell his cat about all of the fucked up shit he saw in the world.

His birthday, however, brought on a whole new series of shitty feelings about being alone and being 37 with his only friend as his cat. He told himself he had friends. That he wasn't alone. That someone might care if he wasn't around. By the time he headed to the coffee shop after work, he was feeling worse than he did when he woke up that morning.

"Good afternoon, Gavin." Rich smiled as he passed the usual green paper cup over the counter. "Did you have a pleasant rest of the day?" Pleasant. Yeah. The same question he asked every other afternoon receive the same answer Gavin always gave him: a shrug and a half smile. As he turned to leave, Gavin's eyes settled on an empty table by the window at the front of the café. There was only one chair. He thought about his apartment, and sitting alone, probably ordering some indulgent junk food as a gift for himself, and falling asleep to the nightly weather report; waking up with a stiff neck before finally dragging himself to his actual bed.

He sat down at the table.

He nursed his coffee as he listened in to strangers conversations and flipped through social media on his phone. When he'd drained the last drop, he sat the cup down with a hollow noise and looked out the window. The sun had set mostly and headlights glared against the window was cars moved down the street. The bus passed; Gavin had at least 15 minutes until the next one. He took a breath and wiggled the empty cup against the table, listening to the noise it made and wondering why he had nothing better to do on his own damn birthday other than sit alone in a coffee shop.

"You come to get coffee, three times a day, five days a week." Richard said as he approached the table carefully, "And have done so for at least the thirty seven weeks I've been employed here. This is the first time you've ever stayed." He observed, sitting down a new, steaming coffee. It was in a black ceramic mug.

Gavin looked up at him blankly, not having an answer to the statement, "Uh, yeah." He fumbled.

"I've been wondering why, if I may ask." Richard offered a small, awkward smile.

"I guess…" Gavin paused to summon a reason as he fished his wallet out of his back pocket, "Well, It's my birthday, I didn't want to be alone." He explained quietly, suddenly embarrassed by the concept. He wondered why he even felt the need to answer, much less with such a vulnerable truth.

"In that case, I'm very glad to have your company." The barista's words were formal, but tinted with something genuine. He waved a dismissive hand as Gavin made to hand him a few bills for the refill. "Consider it a thank you for your loyalty." Richard said, before moving away to tend the counter once again.

Gavin stayed past the next bus, and then a few more, until it was completely dark outside. When he finally had a renewed thought to leave, the rest of the café was already empty. Richard was milling about, wiping down tables and pushing in chairs as Gavin stood and took the mug to the counter. When he turned to the door, Richard followed, rescuing something from the counter as he hastened to catch up. As Gavin laid his hand on the door handle, Richard was behind him, reaching over his shoulder to flick open the lock, "I lock the door after closing." He explained.

"Closing? When did you close?"

"Eleven minutes ago." Richard smiled, holding out the green paper bag he'd taken from the counter. "This is for you. I usually compost the remaining baked goods, but I didn't see the harm in giving you a birthday treat, especially after you hadn't eaten all evening."

Gavin took in that fraction of a smile that Rich always served him alongside his coffee. He held a good five or so inches over Gavin, but was at least just as muscular if not more so that Gavin was. It pinged in Gavin's mind that it was all artificial, that he'd been designed to be handsome and perfect, but the realization of his appeal struck Gavin all the same. Richard was good looking, had been keeping track of Gavin's visits, and was some kind of concerned for his nutritional well-being.

The idea of Richard's regard for him was unexpected, and came with a small tilt of Gavin's chin before he realized he was leaving. "Uh, I'm sorry for keeping you. Thanks for letting me stay." Gavin said as he remembered to be a semi-decent person.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you please." Richard reminded him, holding the door open to the cool fall night.

-----

Gavin transferred paperwork to his portable the following afternoon, toting it with him to the coffee shop. He worked his way through it over his usual coffee and left cash next to his empty cup that Richard didn't take when he quietly left his refill. He waited until the last customer left and checked the time. Fifteen minutes before closing, Richard was idling behind the counter.

"Your boss can't be letting you just keep giving me free coffee." Gavin proclaimed as he brought up the empty mug and left behind cash.

"We offer a complimentary refill to guests who choose to dine in." Richard explained lightly. He watched Gavin curiously. Gavin offered a small snort of amusement,

"You're telling me I come in here and pay for three cups a day when I could just stay and only pay for two?" He grinned wryly.

"I suppose you could, but then, how would you earn the money to pay for those two cups?" Richard took the mug and turned around to put it on the counter next to a small sink. "Despite our appreciation of your patronage, I'd think that you'd be more valued if you continued working."

"I think you overestimate my abilities as a cop." Gavin leaned on the counter slightly.

"Well, I'd prefer that you never have an opportunity to prove me wrong." Richard smiled, and maybe Gavin was looking differently, but his smile seemed more genuine than it did when he normally ordered his coffee. He vaguely noticed a light shutting off outside the shop, prompting Richard's LED to throw a blip of yellow before being summarily returned to blue.

"I guess that means it's closing time." Gavin sighed, pushing away from the counter. He turned to leave, but turned back and leaned his whole torso over the counter, slipping the payment intended for coffee into Richard's apron pocket. "Call it a tip." he offered an awkward wink.

"Gavin, as an android, I am not permitted to have personal finances." Richard's smile was gone as he extracted the bills with a slow movement.

"Well, I'm not taking it back. Who's arresting you?" He shrugged, retreating toward the door with a cocky smile.

-----

The rest of the week continued on in that way; Gavin sat at the cafe for hours, and would chat amicably with the android barista once the shop was empty save for them. He left at closing every night with a smile and occasionally with a sugary treat in hand.

Gavin knew he was fooling himself. After all, and android couldn't have more personal feelings toward him than any other being; human, android, or otherwise. Still, he made himself get up and go to work each day with the prospect of a fresh cup and one free refill after. Companionship from anyone other than his cat was more than he deserved, he figured, but at least Richard was someone he could talk to. Sure, they never talked about anything with any kind of weight, but it was better than talking to himself in the quiet of his apartment.

He let himself believe that it was something like friendship.

So, when Richard leaned across the counter and kissed him, time stopped. Not in a stupid romantic comedy way, but in a way that shook Gavin to his core in self doubt. Richard was an android. Richard couldn't feel anything toward him. He shouldn't have felt anything for a walking, talking computer. He decided not to.

"What the hell?" Gavin's face contorted in confusion and offense when the android pulled away. He waited for an answer as Richard's LED spun to yellow then red and back.

"I am sorry, Gavin, I must have misunderstood your intentions." He stared at Gavin for a long moment before busying himself with tidying the counter.

"My intentions?" Gavin sputtered, failing to assume an appropriate reaction.

"My social protocols interpreted your new interest in being at the café and consistent attempts at companionship as a wish to enter into a romantic relationship." Richard explained. We offer a complimentary refill to guests who choose to dine in.

"Oh." Gavin dismissed the offence and remained pensive. "You're an android. You don't have feelings, especially not for humans." He drew. Richard froze and his LED looked like it was trying to send a distress signal. Eventually, he answered.

"That is correct." He mentioned, though it sounded more like a realization than a confirmation. Somehow, Gavin felt a little hurt.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow." Gavin offered, leaving his mug and retreating quietly.

-----

"Good morning, what can I get you?" Gavin stared at the android taking his order. It wasn't Richard, but a female who looked young and had red curls framing her face. He couldn't see an LED, but the blue armband was telling enough.

"Uh, large coffee, nonfat milk, one sugar. To go." He told her, baffled by her presence. He paid her and she turned away to prepare his order. "Do you know what happened to Richard?" He said casually.

"Richard was found to be malfunctioning, I am his replacement." She didn't seem fazed as she set his cup on the counter.

"Oh. Is he going to be back?"

"I'm not sure, I'm sorry." She offered a kind smile, and moved on to the next customer. When he came back at lunch, she was still there, and in the afternoon too. He didn't stay.

Richard didn't return in the following days, and Gavin stopped coming in early for his coffee, and didn't bother to prolong his commute for the stop either. Two weeks later, he'd begun to favor the coffee shop closer to work for his lunch breaks, and let thoughts fade of his usual place.

It wasn't that their coffee was any better; he just couldn't find the effort to go out of his way to go to the old place anymore. It was different. It didn't feel like his place anymore, and he couldn't much find a reason why. Suzie's was closer anyway; only a block walk from the station, even if the coffee wasn't quite as good, the convenience made up for it.

Not to mention, the less time he spent walking, the more time he could spend working, and with the elevated counts of rogue androids in the city he was needed more than ever. Rumors of an uprising and of feeling androids whispered through the city, though he didn't pay them any mind. A fantasy of robots with feelings didn't make their human victims any less dead, or homicide any more legal. Still, every once in a while, the memory of that long moment of hesitation and the flickering of Richard's LED had him wondering if all rumors had root in truth after all. He tried not to dwell on it. Realistically, Richard had either been 'decommissioned' or 'recalibrated' and in either case, there was no reason for him to be anywhere on Gavin's radar anymore.

Malfunctioning, the replacement had said. Malfunctioning, like he had a glitch or dropped too many dishes or messed up customers orders. Malfunctioning, like giving away free pastries after closing time. Malfunctioning, like misinterpreting the actions of a pathetically lonely detective.

It was raining the night he followed Anderson into Carlos Ortiz's home, where the murder had taken place. They milled around, looking at eerily lit evidence and the filth of a drug addict's dwelling, until Gavin thought to look up and had Hank help him climb into the attic.

He interrogated an android, and suddenly it was all too real. There was blue blood all over the table, and he could still hear the android's panicked ramblings long after he was dismissed for the night. He walked for a while, and while the rain had stopped the sidewalk was still wet enough for his shoes to be soaked through. Ortiz's android felt. It was scared and stressed and confused, and those were all decidedly things that it had not been programmed to be.

His legs took him to the old coffee shop, and as he moved inside to get some fuel and clear his mind a little, he thought he saw Richard for a brief moment. He rubbed his eyes, figuring he was more tired than he realized, then looked back up to the counter. Sure enough, Richard was standing there, staring.

"Large coffee, nonfat milk, one sugar. To go." Gavin breathed slowly, not making eye contact. Richard stalled before turning away and grabbing an already prepared cup from the back counter and handing it over.

"You're Gavin." He said.

"Yeah, that's me, tin can." Gavin couldn't help but smile at the sound of his own name as he passed over his payment and took the cup.

"Enjoy." Richard offered plainly, watching Gavin with a serene expression until Gavin turned slowly and left.

It was awkward. Gavin figured if Richard had been human, he couldn't have expected much more than some kind of fumbling awkwardness remaining from their last encounter. But, Richard wasn't human, and he'd said Gavin's name like it meant nothing to him. He'd had Gavin's coffee waiting, even though Gavin hadn't been there in months, and it wasn't really hot anymore, like it'd been sitting there for a while. There had been no indication that Richard remembered, though, and Gavin knew there was no chance that he would have been returned to work without some kind of reformation for his 'malfunction'.

He wasn't going to let himself be pulled into all of it again. Richard wasn't human; he wasn't Gavin's friend or his anything. Customer files had been left in his system, probably. He'd seen Gavin walking down the street and just remembered a formerly regular customer and their order, and while Gavin was musing over his wet shoes, he made the order. He didn't owe Richard his company just because he memorized his order like any other regular customer's. He couldn't force friendship on a service bot that couldn't say no, and, yeah, he was kind of an asshole for doing it in the first place.

A pathetic asshole.

-----

He propped his feet on his desk as he reasoned with himself over a game of solitaire on his phone. He had no reason to feel rejected, he had no reason to feel even more lonely than he did on his birthday. He had no reason to ignore the cup from Rosie's because of any of it, either. He let himself get lost in his game and refused to think about all the mushy stuff that made up the smaller parts of Gavin. He shut himself off so completely that he didn't notice one of the station androids hovering next to his desk.

"Detective Reed?" She reasoned, and when he didn't answer, she reached a hand out to his shoulder and repeated herself, making Gavin jump at the contact.

"Fuck, what do you want?!" He barked at her, dropping his feet and straightening defensively.

"There is someone here, in the lobby, requesting to see you personally. It is an android. They said you ordered delivery."

"I didn't order anything. Must be malfunctioning--"

Malfunctioning, like making a coffee for a customer that didn't come anymore.

Gavin stood, though frowning, and followed her back to the receptionist's desk. There, behind it, stood Richard.

"Gavin, I was wondering if you had a moment to talk." He was holding a coffee, steam piping out of the little vent on the top.

"Yeah, I got time." Gavin shrugged, letting himself be led outside. It was brisk, but sunny. The fresh air brightened him a little.

"I was recalibrated to correct processing malfunctions in my system four months and three weeks ago." Richard stated abruptly as he faced Gavin."I had made an inappropriate gesture to a customer, and my owners were concerned that I had been affected by deviancy. I was returned to work three weeks later." He was practically rambling, if his speech hadn't sounded so formal and calculated. "Every day since then, I have made this same coffee, four times a day, without being prompted to." He held out the cup to Gavin. Gavin took it slowly, watching Richard carefully. "I am afraid I lied to you."

"Lied to me?" Gavin gaped at the sudden change of context. "Androids can't lie." he demanded.

"Deviant androids can." Richard posed, scrutinizing Gavin's expression. "And to correct the mistruth I told you: some androids have feelings, and certainly can have feelings for humans." He admitted. Gavin waited for further explanation and received nothing.

"You're saying that you have feelings?"

"Since I've no prior experience to go on, it's hard for me to process, but I do know I have both positive and negative preferences for arbitrary things." He explained. He looked nervous. "For example, I do not like cleaning up spilled drinks. I do not like the idea of being recalibrated again. I do like being in your presence."

"So you brought me free coffee now? For what? Because you like seeing me?"

"My owners were not pleased that I continued making drinks for customers that did not exist. They were going to send me back to Cyberlife to be fully decommissioned. I… I didn't want to die." His LED shone yellow for a quick moment. "I knew that If I was dead, I wouldn’t be able to see you again, and I did not want that. The idea caused forty-two separate system errors."

"Because of fuckin' me?" Gavin frowned. He wasn't worth that, and he knew it.

"Entirely because of the concept of not seeing you again. I could not let that happen, so I made your coffee, paid for it, and left."

"You bought me a coffee." Gavin felt like the king of intelligent responses. "How? Why?" Richard hesitated for a long moment

"Well, a very kind customer tipped me generously once, despite my protests." He flashed that genuine smile again, as Gavin took a sip of the, as usual, perfectly made coffee. "And I've since learned, that an appropriate way of initiating a romantic relationship is to buy your interest a meal or beverage."

"Gavin choked "Jesus, fuck that's hot." He whimpered, forcing himself to swallow the scalding drink.

"I did make it extra hot so it would still be warm when I got it to you."

"Well, mission accomplished." Gavin grumbled, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"Gavin, I really would like to take you on a date." Richard frowned at the lack of response to his admission.

"Well, I'm working right now. Not off 'til four." He shrugged dismissively. No need to refuse when he didn't have a choice in working.

"Oh." His tone dropped the confidence Gavin had never noticed, but only knew of now that it was gone. "I suppose I shouldn't have presumed. Thank you for indulging me, I hope I didn't interrupt your day too much."

"I didn't say no." Gavin piped up, hit with a pang of guilt. "I get coffee after work too." He could feel himself flushing, "Maybe I can buy you a cup?"

"Gavin, I have no need for food or drink."

"Then maybe you can just come so I can have some company?" Gavin tried for a small smile, despite feeling like an absolute idiot.

"I would like that."

#reed900 #gavin x rk900 #dbh fanfic #dbhevents #secret santa #fanfic #coffee shop au #gift #dbh secret santa #dbh secret santa 2018

49 notes · View notes

sophisticateddesign · 5 years

Text

Lies and Lunch.

INVOLVED: Mercedes Jones and Titus Wilkerson LOCATION: Lenox Mall; Atlanta, GA. TIME FRAME: Saturday NOTES: Mercedes fails to find maternity clothes. AUTHOR’S NOTE: n/a

You could call Buckhead the center of Atlanta. You may or may not be right about that. But whatever you believed, one look and you will know beyond a shadow of a doubt, there was money here. If you were to live in the black Mecca of the south and be privileged enough to be a person means, Buckhead was where you wanted to be. Truth be told, Buckhead was north of the city proper. Right before you left for all points North; Marietta, Cobb county, Alpharetta. That was where the real money was. Where the white elite dug in just off Johnson’s Ferry road. Where if you went just over the river and you found that one little secluded road. The one behind the Mc’mansions that all sat on a golf course. You’d find the estate of Ludicrous himself.

Like all the burrows in the city, Buckhead had its own shopping center, Lenox Mall. A lavish white shelled mall, boned in cremes and marble floors, that housed over 200 stores and eateries. That’s where Mercedes and Titus were. Mercedes toted a osingle small black bag from Mac. Her eyes scanned every window display they passed. Mentally giving them either her stamp of approval or her frown of rejection. Titus, on the other hand, was studying young hot ass, either smiling or sometimes waving at the ones who caught him gazing at them in approval.

“Mmm, mmm, mmm!” Titus exclaimed, as his head twisted on his neck following one man’s ass like it was a mouse and he was a hungry owl. “She has to know that man is gay.” He said, hand clutching at his heart.

Mercedes sighed, her hazel eyes unable to hide her annoyance. “You sir. don’t know that man’s life.” She said, in a fruitless attempt at challenging his gaydar as they passed Louis Vuitton. The window display was outlandish, with thirty-six cameras all pointed at 2 lone handbags. Mercedes came to a full stop to marvel at the uniqueness of the display. “I think I really want a Lou baby bag.” She said dropping more than a hint at her shopping companion.

“First of all, I might not know his life, but I know where he was two days ago.” Titus gloated, “Second, your bad and boujee ass should buy it.” He caught her hint and threw it right back at her. “if you want. Because I already know what I’m getting my Godchild. It’s called a baby shower. I’m not buying anything for your ass.”

One hand went to Mercedes hip a look of mock shock on her face. “That man was too young for you. I.. I’m speechless.” She said in a voice dripping with admiration. Titus was five years older than her, but managed to act, on most occasions, 20 years younger. At his next return Mercedes rolled her neck, and cut her eyes at him severely, walking off. Her hips swaying from side to side as she continued on her quest for maternity clothes. Only a pinch saltier then she was a second ago. “We are supposed to be finding me a new wardrobe. I’m already using a rubber band to hold these pants up. I brought my clothes to accentuate my ass and my waist trainer to ensure my stomach wasn’t a factor.” She said lifting her bag, “yet, all I have managed to get are foundation refills.”

“He too old for me to date. What we were doing, I wouldn’t consider dating.” Titus said, throwing his scarf up around his neck. He rushed forward to catch the surprisingly quick woman, which wasn’t hard considering how short her legs were. He gave her a sharp pat on the ass. “You know Lenox on a Saturday afternoon is for seeing and being seen.”

Mercedes gave him a questioning look, “Who made that a thing?”

“Everyone!” Titus said, taking a quick step away from her. “Well everyone whose head hasn’t been stuck in a hole. In the past few hours, your ass has been the star of its own one man show. A show that you have been completely oblivious of...” Titus said shaking his head.

“I have bigger things to worry about then what random men want to jump my bones.” Mercedes said reciting a well-practiced line.

Titus rolled his neck and repeated her words verbatim, adding a bored inflection to scorn her. “You have had tunnel vision since before that baby was thing.” He said eyeing her hidden belly. “It was all about taking care of your mother, sister and the kids. And now that they are gone, before you even attempt to find a person to love you. You go and create a whole new person by yourself.” He said annoyed.

He had a point, not that she was going to admit that to him. “You act as if I've never dated. As if I never tried.” Mercedes argued. “Need I remind you of John, Trevon, Jordan, Bobby…” she said with her lips curling into a hateful snarl.

Titus held his hand up silencing the woman. “I will admit you had some bad luck. But… there were some good ones. Mercedes there will be good guys in your future if I have to find them for you myself. Don't think for a second that this child is going to stop me. If Michael and I can find our bliss. I know damn well you can.” He finished wrapping his arm around the woman's shoulder and hugging her close to his side. “That is another promise I made your mother.”

Mercedes laughed and shook her head, “Adding my mother to this doesn't mean anything you know.” She lied trying to sound in control of her emotions.

Titus’ laughter bounced off the walls and echoed all around them drawing a number of pompous eyes their way. “Now we both know that’s a whole lie. You are to much. Anyway, changing the subject.” He said taking a handkerchief from his pocket with a flourish, dramatically dabbing at his forehead.

Mercedes jumped into the gap. “You can change the subject after you feed me.” She said patting her stomach. “I am starving.”

~30 minutes later ~

The shrimp flipped end over end into the air before hitting the grill top, where it sizzled. Mercedes smiled at the little trick. A faint sigh left her lips as the chef continue to cook. “I wanted food not a show.” She grumbled just loud enough for Titus to hear her over the clink of the spatula dicing through the chicken on the grill.

“It must be nice to be a beggar and a chooser.’ Titus muse tossing imagined hair back over his shoulder. “Anyway…” He said in exaggerated tones. “Tell me about him... I know you had a few meetings, dinner and when to the doctor with him. But outside of he seems nice. You haven’t said anything of real import.“

Mercedes shrugged. She held that posture for a moment, then let her shoulders fall. “There isn’t much to tell.” She said easily. “He seems nice. Owns his own business. Is smart, and reasonably caring.” She rattled off trying to deflect. She sat back a little in her seat as the chef began plating their food. “He’s basically everything I wanted in a donor. I’m lucky.” She finished, whispering thank you to the chef.

Titus listened, his face disapproving. “Mhm…” He said, completely unimpressed by the scant information the woman just offered him. “That’s a relief. I suppose.” He said as his own plate was filled. “I could run a complete background check on him if you’d like. Just so we know what you’re dealing with.”

Mercedes shook her head, “No need. I’ve already had it done.” She smiled, “He is completely on the up and up. Good family, nice home…” She trailed off taking a huge bite of chicken and rice into her mouth. She closed her eyes and almost came off how delicious it was. Sighing around the mouthful she chewed, smacking her lips a bit before taking another bite

“Even better.” Titus commented with a nod. He waited for a long moment, adding soy sauce to the dish in front of him. He glanced over at Mercedes who had already began to eat, then sat the bottle down with a hard clink on the wood. “You make me sick. You are really going to make me wild horse your ass Mercedes Jones? Is the man potential or not. For heaven sakes.” He fussed, turning the chicken, rice and shrimp over with his fork. “Here I am trying to marry your stubborn ass off and your holding out. The man owns a business, wants to be a daddy and has a house… Is he at least cute, woman? And young enough not to need dentures?”

Mercedes laughed around her mouthful, fully aware of how annoying she was being. She placed her hand in front of her mouth trying not to spit any food out of her lips. “I’m sorry. You are just too easy.” She said tucking her lips in to her mouth to let her laughter die away before she answered his question. “He’s okay.” She said trying to seem unimpressed by the man. Which even now was hard as the thought of his towering figure and massive arms caused a slight flush to run up her neck. “And no, he’s not an old man.”

Titus beamed doing a little shimmy with his shoulders, “Looks aren’t everything. If he’s not your granddaddy we may have a prospect.”

Mercedes touched his arm quieting the man. She shaking her head no, “He is not my type. And besides that, he’s white. You know how they love their stick figures.” She said as if the matter was closed. She shrugged again and went back to her food. “But he’ll make a good co-parent.” She said twisting her lips up in thought. Their argument? Still bothered her. She didn’t really know what to say. Or for that matter why the idea of him being impotent even bother her at all. She slumped a bit her mind working feverishly against what she deep down already knew. She had a crush on her baby’s daddy.

Titus’ shoulder slumped, “Damn!” He said once she laid out the facts. “I could forgive him being white if he was hot but a regular degular white guy is unacceptable. They often appreciate curves but only with the lights low.” He sucked his teeth, then settled in and started eating. He glanced at Mercedes noting that faraway look she always got whenever she was mulling something over, be it what color drapes to buy or when to dump a man. No matter what the look was always the same. “What’s that look about?

Mercedes sighed, “Nothing.” She said, “Tell me how David is doing? I can’t believe he’s almost 18. You have to get him to tell you what he wants for graduation.”

Titus rolled his eyes, “What most teenage boys want. Tickets to the playboy mansion.” He said shaking his head, “I swear he tries to be super hetero- as a way to spite me. But you!” He snapped, “Stop changing the subject. What’s the matter with you?”

Mercedes giggled, but didn’t miss adding more food to her mouth. “Change.” She said as if the word meant anything. “Changing and dealing with another person. It’s trying.”

Titus squinted, “Tell me something I don’t know.” He sighed, “Wait…” His face contoured. “What is this about?”

“We, the baby’s daddy and I...“ Mercedes shook her head and took a bite of steamed cabbage. “Let’s just say it’s hard getting to know people. Somethings were disclosed, and it’s made our interactions a little awkward.”

Titus laughed, “Your whole situation is awkward. And that’s what your ass gets. Miss I’m going to make a test tube baby.” He said loudly, “Suck it up. And find a way through.” He said knowing full well how is friend operated. “That bundle of joy is coming and try as you might it isn’t going to get any easier. Hell, it’s not like you want to fuck him.” He said eating happily.

#Thread #Thread: Mercedes Jones #Thread: Titus Wilkerson #tHread: Lunch and Lies

4 notes · View notes

rosalynbair · 6 years

Text

Third Floor - The Office

PART ONE -The Office | Masterlist

Pairing: Manager!Kylo x Reader Words: 2230 Summary: Kylo is your manager at First Order Paper Co. And you like him. A lot. But relationships in the office are forbidden, so, what can you do? A/N: Well, here’s my first mini-series for this blog! This is just part one, so it’s more to set up the storyline than anything else. I hope you enjoy it!

Mornings are horrible as an adult. Getting up early and making sure you look professional enough to go out in public and get to work, trying to remember to eat something while also making a mental list of everything that needed to get done that day. Dealing with traffic and raising gas prices, being on time for every single thing and planning for things that probably won’t even happen. Kylo Ren hated mornings. He hated getting up early and putting on a suit. He hated that he had to style his hair perfectly so that it was neat and professional, but also covered his overly large ears. He hated staring in the mirror each morning, tugging a comb through his hair and washing his face, trying desperately to rid himself of the beauty marks that littered his features. He stares at himself in the mirror one more time, hands reaching up to grasp a few strands of hair, adjusting them to cover the tips of his ears. He leaves his large apartment, grabbing the keys to his car off of a small little antique table in the front foyer that his mother had made him get when he had bought the apartment. His dress shoes make a dull clacking noise against the tile of the apartment building’s lobby as he walked, barely looking at the receptionist who greeted him happily with a ‘Hello Mr. Ren!’ which he promptly ignored. He made his way to his car, turning the radio up to blast the classic rock music throughout the car. Anyone walking by would only be able to hear the thud of the bass in the songs. Kylo drove to his office building. A small eight floor building that the company rented the third floor of. For a New York building, it wasn’t as elegant as he wishes it could be. But it held his fifteen employees. He didn’t like most of them, boring people they were. They had petty problems. He would have transferred to a better branch years ago, if it weren’t for one person on his payroll. “Good morning Mr. Ren.” The security guard says, nodding to him as he enters the building, rolling his eyes when he sees that the elevator is still out of service. He grabs the handle of the door to the stairwell, grumbling quietly as he stomps quickly up the stairs. His mood only worsens when he notices that his floor is still dark, no one moving about. He unlocks the door, allowing it to slam shut behind him as he flicks on the light, the office being illuminated by the horrible yellow-white lights. He moves to his office, closing the door and sitting at his desk, not bothering to open the blinds before turning on his computer. An hour passed quietly, nothing disturbing the peace of the third floor until he heard the door open. A few voices floated over to him, which he recognized easily as some of his workers. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t go out and say hello to them. He never did. He does look up however, when Maribeth knocks on his door, peeking her head in with a smile. “Y/N is running late this morning, she messaged our work group chat earlier to say that her car wasn’t starting. Her taxi is stuck in traffic right now but she shouldn’t be too late coming in.” “Thank you.” He says, dismissing her by looking back down to his computer screen. Maribeth closes his door quietly to leave him be with his work. It’s about 45 minutes before you’re in the office, carrying three trays of coffees. You set them down on the reception desk, looking over everyone with a smile. “Good morning!” You say happily “Sorry for running so late!” You Start taking each coffee cup out of the trays, reading the small acronyms on the tops of them before giving them to their corresponding person. Each time you set one down on the desk, you’re greeted with a ‘thank you’. You tell each of them that it’s really no worry, and to enjoy it. You place your own coffee on your desk, turning on your monitor while glancing at the flashing red light on the phone to signal that you have messages that need to be listened to. You sigh, taking the final coffee – Large, dark roast, one sugar – Into your boss’ office. You knock before entering, making sure to be quiet just in case he was on the phone. When you step in, Kylo’s dark eyes move up to see you. “Good morning Y/N” “Good morning Mr. Ren.” You say with a smile, voice hitching up an octave. You would probably never get over how handsome he was. “I apologize for being so late, I would have messaged you, but I didn’t know how to get a hold of you.” You set the coffee down on a coaster on his desk, feeling his gaze on you the entire time. “It’s alright. I understand your morning. No phone calls have come th-“ The phone cuts him off, and you grab it quickly to answer it. “First Order Paper Co. Y/N speaking, how can I help you?” You say into the phone, keeping your voice steady as you spoke to one of your smaller clients. You put them on hold, dialing one of the extensions to the accounting department, asking them to pick up line one. You hang up the phone, looking to Kylo with a smile. He had been watching you throughout the conversation, seeing how even on a bad morning, you were still glowing with happiness. He was fairly sure that you weren’t real. Just a figment of his imagination for the last four years that you worked for him. But he knew he could never imagine such a beautiful and genuine human. “Buzz me if you need anything sir.” You tell him with your signature smile “And please be careful, the coffee is still hot!” You leave the office, closing the door quietly behind you as you go to your desk, sitting in the old office chair that creaked every time you moved. You set your coffee onto the coaster – you had emailed corporate last year asking for a set of coasters for the office after the custodian started complaining about coffee rings on the desks. You pick up the phone, dialling the number to the office’s voicemail. Each one, you wrote down on a memo pad of who had called, what it was regarding, and a call back number. For a few, you wrote who they were for. Two were for Kylo, three for sales, and one for HR. When the inbox was cleared of messages, you take each piece of paper that had been torn from the pad, walking around the office to give them to each department with a quick run down of what the messages had said. You knock on Kylo’s office door again, coming in and handing him the two pieces of paper. “Corporate wants to set up a meeting with you to have the annual progress report, and Senator Organa wants to know when you would like to go to lunch because you haven’t been returning your emails.” Kylo takes the memos from you, glancing over them with a sigh. “Call my mother back and tell her I’m busy this week. Tell corporate that I’m available for meetings next Tuesday.” He says, his voice echoing throughout the small office, throughout your bones. “Yes sir.” You say, smiling as you go to leave the office. “Y/N?” He asks, making you stop with your hand on the door handle. You turn to see him scribbling on a sticky note. “Yes sir?” You ask, taking your hand off the handle, turning to face him fully. “This is my cell phone number.” He tells you, holding the yellow paper out to you “I would like you to have it in case you need to contact me again.” Your cheeks slowly turn pink, your face warm. You step forward, taking it from him, forcing your hands not to shake. “Thank you sir.” You say, voice breathy. “Use it responsibly.” He tells you, his attention returning to his screen. He picks up the phone, dialling a number whole you turned to leave again. You return to your desk, spending the days answering the phone and replying to emails. Faxing out papers when needed, or printing off contacts to prepare for new clients coming in this week. As the work day comes to a close, you say goodbye to everyone who files out of the office with their bags and lunch boxes. When everyone was gone, you began your rounds around the office, checking that each monitor and computer were turned off for the night. You turn close the blinds in each room, flicking off the lights as you go. You close the safe in the back office and go to the thermostat, changing turning the heat off for the night so the office wouldn’t be charged with higher heating bills. You return to your desk, pulling on your light pea coat, tying the belt around your waist and grabbing your tote purse, pulling your phone out of the small pocket. You dial the number for the taxi company, putting the phone up to your ear as you listen to it ring. You go to voicemail, and you let out a sigh. You try to more taxi companies, one saying that they had no taxis available for at least another hour, the other saying that their bank machines in the cars weren’t working. You grumble as you begin to check bus routes on your phone, trying to plan out how long you would have to wait and which two transfers you would have to take and which train you would have to catch to get to your apartment. “Y/N?” Kylo asks as he comes out of his office with his coat on, a leather messenger bag resting on his shoulder. You look up, and he’s surprised to see a frustrated frown on your face for the first time since knowing you. “Are you alright?” “I’m fine sir.” You mumble, and he knows immediately that things are in fact, not fine. “Do you need a ride?” He asks you, his eyebrow raised slightly as he remembers that you took a taxi to work this morning. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. There has to be at least one taxi available in this damn city.” You say, scrolling through your contacts to find a company you hadn’t called yet. “Y/N, I’ll give you a ride home.” He tells you, not really giving you an option to decline his offer with the tone that he said it in. “Are you sure? I live a thirty minute drive away, and it’s rush hour.” You say, thinking about how long you would be in the car with your boss. “Yes, I’m sure. I don’t mind the drive as long as I know you get home safe.” He says, pulling his keys out of his pocket and walking towards the door, glancing over to you to see if you were following. You hold the strap of your purse tighter, following him out the door, making sure that the door was locked behind you while you follow him down the ugly linoleum tiled stairs. The night air was cold against your face when you stepped outside, waving goodbye to the security guard who was preparing for his final rounds before leaving to go home. Kylo tries not to look at you when the wind goes, blowing your hair wildly around your face while you jog to keep up with the tall man. He stops at a black Audi, unlocking the door and tossing his bag into the back seat before opening the drivers door to get in. You follow suit, setting your purse at your feet as you put on your seatbelt, turning slightly so your body was leaning towards him rather than being parallel to the front. You take in the man beside you, watching him put on his seatbelt and putting the keys in the ignition, turning them and letting the car hum to life. He has a strong profile, nose fairly straight despite how large it was. You could see a small bump on it, showing that it might have been broken once or twice in his life. His hair his most of his features from you, but you knew his face like you knew the back of your hand. He was handsome. You remembered having your job interview with him. You had been a stuttering, blushing mess while you answered his questions. He had been fairly quiet, taking notes about your answers before hiring you on the spot. You were sure you were going to relapse into that reaction during the time in the car with him. He looks over to you, his arm going out so he could put his hand on the back of your seat, his head turning so he could see properly and back out of the parking space. You look down, pretending you hadn’t just been staring at him like a love sick puppy. “So, where is your house?” He asks, stopping the car before he pulled out onto the street. “Go Left.” You instruct.

#kylo x reader #kylo ren #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x reader #ben solo #ben solo imagine #ben solo x reader #ben solo x you #ben solo headcanons #kylo ren headcanons #star wars: the last jedi fanfiction #the last jedi imagine #rosalynbair #rosalynbair masterlist #third floor #manager!kylo #third floor imagine #part one

160 notes · View notes

forksofwisdom · 6 years

Text

Embers of the Sun - chapter 3

Pairings: Bella/Paul, eventual Angela/Leah

Chapter summary: Bella gets a lesson in gravity while grocery shopping, and later picks up an unexpected hitchhiker in La Push.

A/N: I’ve posted this on ff.net!

The sky was a dreary grey.

Bella sat in the kitchen with a glass of water, feeling heavy-eyed despite having slept like a rock throughout the night. She’d dreamt of sprinting silently through a green forest. It hadn’t been an unpleasant dream, but the sound of heavy footfall outside her window had roused her. The pale light had greeted her as she struggled between waking and unconsciousness. Bella wasn’t used to having such vivid dreams, much less remember them after she woke up, so it had taken her a moment to realize that her dream had been void of the sound of footsteps. She’d rushed to her window but found nothing when she looked down into the yard.

Bella was still trying to will the sun to materialize through the heavy clouds when Charlie came down. She welcomed the distraction. He appeared surprised at seeing her awake, and they exchanged quiet good mornings. He got himself a glass of water and gulped it down like a man dying of thirst. The bags underneath his eyes were impressive, and Bella realized that he was nursing a hangover.

“What are you doing up so early?” Charlie asked and had to clear his throat when his voice came out hoarse. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, and Bella knew that he was embarrassed, which was understandable but entirely unnecessary since it had been a rare treat to witness him so carefree. Bella had the inkling that it wouldn’t happen again. She knew that Charlie’s pride had taken a hit and wanted to reassure him that he hadn’t harmed her ‘delicate sensibilities’ but it would only drive him further into his shell.

“I just woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep,” Bella answered vaguely instead. There was no need to worry him about the work of her overactive imagination.

“That’s too bad,” Charlie muttered, and Bella watched with barely contained horror as he poured some oats and water into a bowl and put it into the microwave. It cooked until the two-minute mark, and the ensuing ‘ding’ was jarring. He took it out and stuck a spoon in it. The porridge behaved like wet cement, and the spoon stayed in place.

“How can you eat that?” Bella asked with thinly veiled disgust.

“What? It tastes just fine to me,” Charlie said as he got himself another glass of water. “I can make you some if you want.”

“No, thanks. I’ll stick to toast.” Bella shook her head, which got a small smile from him. She counted it as a victory.

He checked his watch and wolfed down the rest of his breakfast while Bella fixed her meal.

“I’ll be home late,” Charlie told her as he rinsed his bowl in the sink. He dried his hands on the dishcloth. “Know what you’re going to do today?”

“I’m going grocery shopping,” Bella answered through a mouthful of toast. She’d originally intended to stay at home and recharge, but there was no way that she would let Charlie do any more cooking while she was here. “You still like beef stroganoff, right?”

“Yeah, it’s my favorite,” Charlie said, his features softening.

“Dinner will be waiting for you when you come home,” Bella smiled down at her plate and Charlie patted her on the back like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands.

“That sounds good. I’ll see you tonight, Bells.” He grabbed his holster and was out the door.

Bella grimaced and huddled deeper into the coat, already feeling the chill despite not having open the front door yet. She’d stolen Charlie’s coat again and had her key in hand, an empty tote bag in her pocket, and a determination not to let the-three-on-the-tree gear shift intimidate her. She’d made it home last night with Charlie in no state to offer her helpful advice. Granted; there hadn’t been any cars on the road and luck had been with her when it came to the timing of green lights, but she’d done it nonetheless. With that in mind, Bella squared her shoulder and stalked out the door.

With her seatbelt on and her key in the ignition, Bella only hoped that she wouldn’t publicly embarrass herself in the grocery parking lot. News traveled fast around these parts, and it would surely reach La Push in no time.

She wondered if Paul ever bought his groceries in Forks.

Blindsided by her desire to catch another glimpse of him, Bella shook the thought away and turned the key. Her metal beast roared to life, and Bella backed onto the street gingerly. Besides, Paul would probably freak out at the sight of her again.

Her ego was still smarting from that.

Bella turned on her radio to shut her traitorous mind off. She did not need to think about rude boys and giant wolves. She shuddered. Were the Quileutes aware of the beast that might be lurking in their woods? Bella desperately wanted to believe that those footprints had been a prank, but doubt nagged at her.

The drive to the shop was short since nearly everything in Forks was a five-minute drive away from her house. The parking lot was blissfully uncrowded, and Bella slid into a spot close to the entrance. She put her truck in park and pulled the handbrake for good measure.

The store was decently sized and had a much better selection than she’d anticipated. Bella was pleasantly surprised when she found everything on her list easily. The only thing she had yet to find was a can of beef broth. It took her a few minutes of searching to track them down, and her stomach sank when she realized that they were on top of the highest shelf.

Cursed with her mother’s short genes, Bella went onto the tips of her toes and reached up in a futile effort to grab for it. Her fingers didn’t even come close. Looking around, Bella wanted to avoid having to seek help from a stranger. She might be able to hold her own in a conversation with acquaintances but speaking to strangers when not strictly necessary was stressful.

Fortunately, there was a stepping stool resting down the aisle, and Bella nudged it in place. The workers must use it while they were stocking the shelves, and if Bella had been a little taller, it would have been the perfect height for her. She had to go on the tips of her toes again, which forced her to lean forwards. Her fingers reached the edge of a can, and she slipped it towards her. It spun in a few circles and Bella cursed. She hitched her shoulder and closed her hand around the accursed can.

Of course, just as she was about to announce her victory, she slipped.

“Watch out!” Slim arms wrapped around Bella’s stomach and jerked her to a halt. Heart pounding, Bella took a cautious step down and was helped with her descend. They let her go when she was on safe grounds again. Bella turned around.

“I’m sorry for grabbing you like that; I just saw you slip and reacted.” Her savior was a girl who appeared to be her age. She had light brown hair with streaks of honey, and a pair of glasses framed gentle brown eyes.

“No, it’s fine.” Bella was taken by surprise. “You have good reflexes.”

“Are you new around here? I’m sorry,” the girl blurted out. “It’s just you look my age, and I haven’t seen you around the school - it’s a small town.” The poor girl looked increasingly embarrassed as she rambled. Bella knew the feeling and smiled when she paused to take a breath before introducing herself. “I’m Angela Weber by the way,”

“Hi, Angela. You’re right; I’m new,” Bella said and stuck her hand out for her to shake. Angela took it shyly. “I’m Bella Swan.”

“The Police Chief’s daughter?” Angela asked. It didn’t feel like she was prying in the way those eager for their share of town gossip did.

“That’s me,” Bella said and held up her can awkwardly. “Thank you for catching me - this was the last thing on my list.”

“Think nothing of it! I’m just glad you didn’t get hurt,” Angela smiled. “Will you be attending Forks High?”

“Yeah, I’m a senior.” Bella was proud of how well she was handling the conversation. Angela seemed like a sweet girl, and Bella hoped that she was in her year.

“Me too! Maybe we’ll have some classes together, if not, we could sit together for lunch,” Angela said eagerly, but blushed when she realized how forward she sounded.

“No, that would be great. I don’t know anyone around here so it would be nice to see a familiar face,” Bella reassured her.

“Great,” Angela said, her smile reappearing, and bounced back on her heels. “I guess, I’ll see you in school next Friday.”

“Yeah, it was nice meeting you and, again, thanks for saving me; not a good look to start term in a cast,” Bella joked, and Angela laughed in agreement.

“See you, Bella.” They parted ways, Angela resuming her shopping and Bella going to the checkout, both wearing small smiles. Starting at Forks High didn’t seem too scary anymore.

There wasn’t much for Bella to do in Forks while she waited for school to start. It was Thursday now, and Bella was beginning to get cabin fever; school would start tomorrow, and the last thing she needed was to be alone with her thoughts. Being the new girl in such a small town was bound to draw attention from the other students, and Bella was dreading it. Hopefully, Angela would make good on her offer and let Bella blend in by sitting with her. Bella had spent plenty of lunches sitting on her own in Phoenix but thinking about doing it in front of people who were bound to judge her was uncomfortable.

Charlie was at work, and it was an odd experience for Bella to have the whole day to herself. She was so used to taking care of the household back in Phoenix because while Renée had a zest for damn near everything, she was a complete disaster when it came to taking care of anyone, much less herself. Charlie was the complete opposite; he remembered to pay the bills and cleaned up after himself. The only thing Bella took over was the cooking. Charlie hadn’t protested, especially not after she’d caught him putting a can of beans inside the microwave.

The man was a menace inside the kitchen.

She spoke to her mother daily, both through emails and phone calls. It was amazing how much her mother could prattle on and make the most mundane things seem exciting. Bella should buy a mobile because they were starting to run up Charlie’s landline bill with their routine of calling each other in the evenings and spend an hour chatting. Renée did most of the speaking while Bella listened. It eased her mind to hear how happy her mother was. It was sometimes a little disheartened how Renée seemed to be thriving without Bella there to look after her.

Bella dismissed the thought as soon as it reared its ugly head inside her mind. Renée was happy, and that was enough.

Senior year was upon her and Bella should use the time to find out what she wanted to do with herself. She couldn’t help but feel adrift during those empty moments sitting at home and waiting for something interesting to happen.

Sick of her train of thought, Bella decided to go for a drive. A change of scenery should help her clear her mind. She grabbed the CD Charlie had given it to her for her fourteenth birthday. She’d found it while going through the stuff that had collected on her bookshelf throughout the years. Charlie had found most her favorite songs from his collection and mixed them onto a CD. Bella was ashamed to admit that she didn’t remember what songs were on there, but her mood brightened significantly when the first pluck of guitar of ‘Here Comes the Sun’ by the Beatles started playing. Charlie knew her better than she’d thought.

She had no direction in mind when she pulled out of the drive, but all too soon she was at the intersection of the 101 and 110. Without thinking she took a left onto the La Push Road, but Ben E. King’s crooning voice distracted her from any worry. All thoughts of mutant wolves and Paul were absent from her mind as she jiggled shoulders in rhythm with the bass of ‘Stand By Me.’

Bella turned on her windshield wipers when it started to rain.

She was nearing the village’s border when she saw something strange. Sam was standing by the treeline, flanked by Jared and Paul. They were all shirtless and wore shorts like they’d been out for a jog when they’d been caught in the rain. Across the road was Leah. She was standing on the sidewalk and appeared to have been caught out in the rain as well; her flannel shirt was slowly getting drenched. Leah didn’t seem to notice it though as she glared at Sam. The venom on her face was impressive, but it didn’t distract Bella from how her shoulder slumped forwards as the rain grew heavier.

Bella was reminded of a standoff in one of Charlie’s old movies about the Wild West.

She was already stepping on the break when Paul’s head suddenly snapped up like he’d felt her gaze. Her stomach clenched, and she wanted to sink into the ground when he jolted with a look of surprise crossing his face.

What the hell was his problem?

Jimi Hendrix’s guitar solo jolted her into reality, and Bella quickly lowered the volume. Leah’s glare was losing it heat and the sadness in her gaze alarmed Bella. After making sure there was no one driving behind her, Bella slowed to a halt.

Paul was still staring at her and Bella’s frustration got the better of her. With a stubborn tick to her chin, she trudged up the nerve to give him a small wave with a sickly sweet smile. He blinked in surprise and Bella was bewildered when his lips quirked up into a toothy grin. He rose to his full height and his chest puffed up in that cocky way that seems universal among young men. Jared nudged Paul in the ribs teasingly, and Paul hit him in the shoulder with enough force to make him stumble.

Men, Bella thought disparagingly. Paul didn’t seem to hate her as she had initially thought, but Bella had more pressing matters at hand. Sam didn’t have eyes for anyone besides Leah. He appeared just as unhappy at seeing Leah, but there wasn’t any of Leah’s rage in him. He seemed weary.

Why hadn’t Leah left? It was blatant, even to an outsider like Bella, that she wasn’t comfortable with Sam’s proximity. There was bad blood between the two of them, and while Bella was curious by nature their history, it was none of her business. However, there was no way she could leave Leah in a situation that was causing her distress.

Bella hoped that she wasn’t about to get humiliated in front of these guys. She attempted to roll down her window, but it stuck after an inch, so she opened her door instead with a huff. Rain immediately pelted her hair and shoulder, and cold dops rolled down the back of her collar. She ignored the men and lifted herself to stand on the car door sill and leaned over the wet roof of her truck to call out to Leah.

“Hey, need a ride?” Leah snapped her attention towards Bella in surprise. Bella shivered as she waited for an answer. There was a tense pause where Leah gave Sam one last mutinous glare before stalking silently to Bella and her truck. She got in on the other side, and Bella let out a breath.

“Yeah,” Leah snarled as she slammed the door shut. Bella all but tumbled back into the driver’s seat and closed her door with more care. The car was cold now that Bella had let out all the warm air and she set to close her window. It gave her a chance to take one last peek at Paul. His eyebrows were approaching his hairline, and even Jared appeared slack-jawed. Bella suppressed the urge to stick her tongue out at them; there was no need to look so surprised, and Sam’s apparent gratefulness was also unwarranted because Bella certainly hadn’t done it for him.

“Where do you want to go?” Bella asked Leah and cranked up the heat when she noticed Leah was shivering. She started driving.

“Just go wherever it was you were going,” Leah dismissed, huddling down into the seat with crossed arms.

“I was just driving around,” Bella explained. “Want me to take you home?”

“No, just keep on driving,” Leah said and dialed up the volume on Bella’s radio. The scent of wet clothes filled the cab, and they stayed silent as Bella drove further into La Push. There wasn’t a lot of roads, and she took a circle around the Quileute Tribal Council building and pulled back onto the Ocean Front Drive, heading out of the village.

“Is it okay if we keep going?” Bella asked when they came to the 101.

“Yeah,” Leah said. She seemed to relax with every mile they put between them and La Push. She did not indicate being affected by the initial strained silence like Bella, but soon the calm that came with driving eased any tension between them.

Bella was struck by how weird this was but Leah’s calm demeanor was also kind of nice. She wasn’t inclined to strike up a conversation. Bella wasn’t ready to return to Forks, and Leah seemed to agree with her because she asked her if she had any more music when the CD finished.

“No, but you missed the first a couple of songs,” Bella said like she’d always intended to pick her up and Leah’s features softened. The first song with the Beatles started to play again.

Neither spoke again until the CD finished for the second time. Bella asked if Leah knew any good radio stations. They were driving past the tiny hamlet of Shuwah, which resided on the other side of Forks when Bella felt the urge of getting to know her passenger a little. She searched for something to say to break the ice.

“So, um. What do you do for fun around here?” Bella asked and winced when Leah raised her eyebrow at her pitiful attempt at small talk. “Yeah, that was pretty bad.”

Leah took a moment before answering. “Hiking. The forest is beautiful around here.” There was a note of pride in her voice. “Then there’s fishing of course; our dads still fish together, and then there’s hunting if you’re into that kind of thing.”

“I’m not a big hunter, but hiking sounds nice,” Bella said. Then she remembered her disastrous attempt at walking in the forest by Billy’s house and laughed awkwardly. “That is when I’m not tripping over roots and falling onto my ass.”

“There are a couple of good trails by the Second Beach which should be free of any roots,” Leah said dryly. She appeared to deliberate for a moment. “I could show you my favorite one when the weather is better.”

“That would be awesome,” Bella said, a little surprised at Leah’s offer. She tapped her steering wheel, feeling absurdly proud of the fact that Leah wanted to meet her again.

It wasn’t until Leah remarked that it was getting late that Bella turned around to head back. She was startled when she noticed that the sky was already darkening as evening approached. They’d been driving for a little over an hour. Charlie would be home soon, and Bella hadn’t intended to let an empty house greet him.

The trip back was somehow quicker, and they were entering La Push before they knew it. Bella remembered the way to the Clearwater’s home from her last visit and pulled up in front of their driveway.

“Thanks, I needed to get away for awhile,” Leah said after a pregnant pause.

“Don’t mention it,” Bella said with a shake of her head. “This was nice; I’ve never driven around with a friend before.” The words were out of her mouth before she had time to think and Bella was mortified when she realized that she’d called Leah her friend.

Thankfully, Leah sent her a faint smile before she could start backtracking.

“See you around, Swan.” She jumped down and jogged through the rain up to her house.

Bella drove back in a bit of a daze and soon pulled up by her house. She would need to fill her tank tomorrow after school.

Charlie was laying the dinner table when Bella came in.

“I ordered some pizza, hope you don’t mind,” he said and motioned to the pizza box on the table.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stay out for so long. I just lost track of time, and then I had to drive Leah home.” Bella explained as they took their seats and Charlie seemed surprised.

“Leah Clearwater?” he asked and handed her a slice. “I didn’t know you were friends. What were you two doing together?”

“Just driving around.” Bella shrugged and took a bite. She was starving.

“Have fun?” he asked, and Bella nodded, chewing silently.

“Leah’s cool,” she said and smiled to herself. “It’s almost intimidating.”

“Huh,” Charlie accepted Bella’s newfound friendship readily. The pizza was almost gone when Bella remembered what she’d wanted to ask Charlie.

“Hey, dad. Think you can make me more CD’s? It’s nice to have something to listen to in the car.”

“You still listen to that old thing?” His brows twitched up as he smiled. “Of course, Bells. Just write down what songs you like, and I’ll fix it.”

“Thank you.” Bella took their plates and put them in the washer.

“Billy called,” Charlie said, stretching his back and handed Bella his glass.

“Oh?”

“He invited us to dinner as repayment for ‘putting up with his drunk singing’ as he put it,” Charlie said sheepishly.

“Your's as well, if I recall,” Bella said teasingly.

“Yeah, well.” Charlie coughed gruffly.

“I had fun,” Bella reassured him. “Tell Billy I’d love to have dinner.”

“It’s a date.”

Next chapter: Something's fishy about the supposedly suave Cullens, and Bella's not impressed. Dinner at Billy’s, featuring the hazards of climbing in grocery stores when your name is Bella Swan and more Paul.

#embers of the sun #chapter 3 #bella swan #charlie swan #angela weber #leah clearwater #sam uley #jared cameron #paul lahote #*takes deep breath* I love Leah

13 notes · View notes

wp-yahoo-style-1042-yahoopa-blog · 5 years

Text

10 weird (but brilliant) gadgets that'll make your life easier — including this pet owner must-have

Ten useful gadgets to make life easier in 2019 (Photo: Chewy.com)

Set yourself up for success in tiny ways for the new year, and you’ll reduce your overall stress. Sometimes it’s the little things that can make a big difference. Here are 10 smart solutions to everyday challenges — poised to change your life for the better!

The editors at Yahoo Lifestyle are committed to finding you the best products at the best prices. At times, we may receive a share from purchases made via links on this page.

Evelots Ball Cap Washer in Sturdy Plastic

Evelots ball-cap washer in sturdy plastic. (Photo: Walmart)

I don’t want to make generalizations about teenage boys, but can we all agree that their baseball caps could use a washing? And yet that precious headwear is not exactly easy to clean. Hats off to whoever invented this clever gadget, a “cage” that enables you to safely wash caps in the top of your dishwasher (albeit one at a time).

Shop it: Evelots Ball Cap Washer in Sturdy Plastic, $7, walmart.com

Kale Razor and Herb Stripping Tool

Kale razor and herb stripping tool. (Photo: The Grommet)

You want to eat more greens, right? But they’re a pain to prep — and the healthier they are, it seems, the more work they entail. Not anymore. This brilliant tool shears tough leaves (think kale, collards, mustard green) off the rib with ease, helping you breeze through a whole head in just a couple of minutes. Smaller holes are for stripping herbs like rosemary, thyme and parsley. Forgive me in advance, but I have to say it: With this tool, it’s easy being green.

Shop it: Kale Razor and Herb Stripping Tool, $15, thegrommet.com

Hanger Spacers, 10-Pack

Hanger spacers. (Photo: Xangar)

Anyone who’s ever worked in a retail store knows that that spacing hangers uniformly (one-finger’s width!) is what gives a rack dignity. At home most of us have given up on this notion, and our overstuffed storage results in smashed, wrinkled clothes — requiring ironing even when they may have been in beautiful shape when they were put away. No longer. These hanger spacers give each of your shirts, dresses or pants the personal space it needs to remain in good shape and at the ready for service. The spacers make it easier to get dressed for work, to put away laundry and to feel like you’re ahead of the game. Available in charcoal or matte silver.

Shop it: Hanger Spacers, 10-Pack, $20, thegrommet.com

SnapBasket Collapsible Tote

SnapBasket collapsible tote. (Photo: Amazon)

It’s great that we’ve finally gotten into a nationwide habit of bringing our own bags to the grocery store. Each year more cities outlaw plastic bags. But if the back of your car now looks like an explosion at a tote-bag factory — a crazy chaos of canvas, nylon and good old-fashioned brown paper — you’ll love this slim, storable carry-all. It folds completely flat, expands to a generously sized rectangular cube and weighs next to nothing. Bring it into the supermarket with you, fill as you peruse the shelves, and after the groceries are put away at home, collapse and file neatly in your vehicle. Car clutter solved. And it’s available in five colors.

Shop it: SnapBasket Collapsible Tote, $30, amazon.com

Aquapaw Pet Bathing Tool

Aquapaw pet bathing tool. (Photo: Chewy.com)

I read that the best way to bathe a cat is by placing it on a tilted window screen in the tub. Its claws come out in fear, and in the cat’s terror it is trapped so you can lower the feline into the water. This, to me, seems bonkers, and it’s why my cat of 11 years has never been bathed. However, the Aquapaw makes me feel like I may have a chance yet. A wearable sprayer-scrubber that attaches to a hose (outside) or a faucet (in the tub), it lets you get the job done quick and clean. You might even be able to convince the kids there’s fun to be had here, and outsource dog-scrubbing duty to them.

Shop it: Aquapaw Pet Bathing Tool, $25, chewy.com

Tramontina PrimaWare 10″ and 12″ Stainless Steel Universal Lid

Tramontina PrimaWare universal lid. (Photo: Walmart)

Dinner prep is infinitely easier when you don’t have to rifle around for that one errant pot top. This universal lid has got you covered (or has got your pots covered). It works with most 8-, 10- and 12-inch pots and pans, so you can keep it handy, transfer from pot to pot as needed, and concentrate on your brilliant culinary creations instead.

Shop it: Tramontina PrimaWare 10″ and 12″ Stainless Steel Universal Lid, $16, walmart.com

Spin-Dry Toilet Brush

Spin-Dry toilet brush. (Photo: The Grommet)

What goes on inside the toilet-brush holder is something none of us wants to think about. We hold our breath, avert our eyes and pretend all is well, when we know in our hearts it ain’t. Someone stronger and braver confronted this issue and invented a toilet brush that’s easy to dry (so less icky to put away). After you finish cleaning the bowl, just hold the brush above the water, and squeeze the handle. The brush spins to eject liquid (along with any ooky stuff that might be hanging on). You can put it back in its holder with a good conscience and less chance of mucky waters greeting you next time.

Shop it: Spin-Dry Toilet Brush, $25, thegrommet.com

OXO Good Grips extendable tub and tile scrubber. (Photo: Amazon)

OXO Good Grips Extendable Tub and Tile Scrubber

Yes, it’s intended to help you clean those high-up tiles on the wall next to the shower. And it’s damned good at this. Like so many OXO products, it’s an ergonomic delight. The head pivots to get into awkward spots, moving nimbly even when the pole is fully extended. A sturdy anti-microbial head is abrasive enough to do the job and easy to rinse clean. What the manufacturer may not mention is that it’s also awesome for killing bugs; this is the primary function for this tool in my home. I usually grab a used dryer sheet out of the laundry basket, lay it across the head (it sticks because of the scrubby texture) and in seconds that ceiling spider has met a quick (and I hope painless) demise.

Shop it: OXO Good Grips Extendable Tub and Tile Scrubber. $13, amazon.com

Vegetable Spiralizer Jar

Vegetable spiralizer jar. (Photo: The Grommet)

Been meaning to spiralize but can’t quite get motivated? This low-tech hand tool takes away the intimidation factor — and the potential mess — catching and containing veggie ribbons as you twist. Make yourself a whole spiralized salad, top with a dollop of dressed lentils (or any leftover protein from last night’s dinner) and lunch is packed and ready to take to the office.

Shop it: Vegetable Spiralizer Jar, $15, thegrommet.com

Set of 2 Oil Sprayers

Oil sprayers. (Photo: The Grommet)

If, like many of us, you promised yourself healthier habits in 2019, these olive oil bottles belong in your kitchen. You get the convenience and lightness of cooking spray with the quality (and “good fat”) of your favorite olive oil. These bottles have a broad spritz, so they coat the pan using less oil overall — and who couldn’t use a bit fewer calories in that a.m. omelet? Fill the second bottle with balsamic, if you like; that makes it a breeze to dress salad, and keep leaves light and bright.

Shop it: Set of 2 Oil Sprayers, $20, thegrommet.com