#the smell of fresh coffee roast. and i miss being able to take a handful of coffee beans and eat it as I walk around the city center

[cynopoe]

.

#i miss my home #i miss the city #i miss the streets #and the smell of spices #the smell of fresh coffee roast. and i miss being able to take a handful of coffee beans and eat it as I walk around the city center #when it’s dark and I’m with people i care the most #i miss being able to walk to my friends and back home. i miss the stray cat i used to feed #i miss the towering height of my old home. and the little balcony we used to drink coffee in the morning and wine in the evening #i miss the humidity and the warm summer nights. miss the pavements my feet knew by muscle memory #i miss my homeland #and I don’t know how to live with the pain of knowing I can never go back home #there’s nothing for me to do but to mourn the lives lost and the history buried under months old rubble

[moonlightazriel]

Fake it until you make it… /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: “hi! I hope you're having a great day. I love your writing so much! I was wondering if you might write an az x reader fic where the reader and he are kidnapped and stuff so they form a relationship to stay alive but then as they are freed Azriel acts all distant and stuff. idk just an idea?”

Warnings: A bit of angst, mentions of suicide and anxiety attack.

Word Count: 3K

Notes: Sorry this request took so long, but I change the storyline a bit and I love how it turned out.

Main Masterlist

Acting as the Spymaster was hard, but this was way harder, he held the female’s hand, even through the gloves he could feel how warm it was. He smiled, not very used to doing it in public, as they approached the table, Thesan smiled at them, but Azriel could feel how his mate, Caeda, would eye him, a hint of suspiciousness burned in his gaze.

“Thank you for having us, High Lord.” Her overly sweet voice sounded, and Azriel looked at her, her hair was in a bun, on the top of her head, and she wore a flowy skirt with a matching top, small jewellery adorned her ears and neck, her smooth skin smelled like vanilla.

If things were different, he could see himself falling for her, maybe asking her out, but being forced to act as her mate? He wondered how he was so blind to the obvious signals that something was wrong. He was sent to retrieve a very important artefact, the pendant would help Elain with her seer abilities, the task was simple, locate it, steal and take it back to the Night Court.

Things were too easy when he sneaked around the Dawn Court, the pendant was in between the High Lord’s personal belongings, and as he entered the safe that held the item, he was caught by her, Thesan’s personal guard. Azriel refused to answer why he was there, he refused to say anything, until she proposed to him.

“You stay here, posing as my mate, and I help you get the pendant.” He didn’t knew why she was helping him or how she knew why he was there, but Elain was his friend, and her visions were a disturbance for her, preventing her from sleep or even thinking coherently, she would just stay in a corner, watching a blank point in the wall and mumble random visions and prophecies.

So Azriel agreed, and now he was smiling to people and being shown around as Y/N’s mate, Thesan immediately welcomed him, suggesting a dinner together so he could learn about the two, and that’s what he was currently doing, sipping on his wine, chewing a piece of potato and pretending to be deeply in love with her.

“How was it?” Thesan asked, after swallowing a piece of roasted pig. “I can’t imagine being away from my mate like that.” Azriel nodded.

“It’s my personal hell, I miss her every day, sometimes I feel her scent lingering around me, and my heart almost breaks in my chest when I realise she’s not there.” He had read many romance novels, they were coming in hand for him, being useful now. “When I feel that wave in my chest, I know she misses me just as much.” He concluded and Thesan looked at them.

“That’s so beautiful, I’m so sorry things have to be this way.” He apologised and Y/N answered something before she changed the subject to random court duties.

He watched her as she talked, the way her lips moved, and the occasional scrunch of her nose, she would do this before she opened a smile, every time, without fail, when she smiled openly, like she was doing now as she listened to Caeda speak, a little dimple would appear in the corner of her mouth.

He was very observant, and in this past week he was able to learn so much about her as he slept on her couch. How she liked fresh coffee every morning, how she would look so serious doing her job, or how she would run to help someone whenever they needed. She had taken him to the city, he had seen her help so many people on the short walk around the street market, that he wondered how she wouldn’t get tired.

“Azriel, when do you plan to take my sister to meet your family?” Caeda asked and Azriel had to suppress the surprise on his face, he didn’t know they were siblings.

“Oh, as soon as she has some free time, you know she works a lot.” He hugged her side and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“I was actually planning on asking for some days off, to meet my brothers in law.” She joked, Azriel had to admit that she was a good actress, and an even better liar. The lies easily rolled off her tongue and he respected that.

“We can certainly take a look into that for you.” Thesan agreed and Caeda smirked to Azriel, something he didn’t like.

If they knew why he was truly there, he could be arrested and executed, or even worse, this could be a reason for the Dawn Court declaring war against Night, and after everything they’ve been through, they don’t need another war, especially one caused by him. So he held her in his arms as they said their goodbyes and followed her home.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“I’m working on it.” She sipped on her daily coffee, a shirt hanging on her body and nothing else, Azriel tried to avert his eyes from the exposed skin of her thighs but it was kinda hard. “I don’t know why it was open that day, but that safe is protected by ancient magic, not even Caeda enters there without Thesan.” Azriel nodded.

Another week had passed by and he was still stuck there, and as much as he hated to admit, she was getting closer and closer to him, and he was allowing it, they would spend a few hours together, have meals together, acting like a real couple was starting to mess with his head, and he didn’t liked that.

Sometimes as they read together, she would sit really close to him, once she fell asleep on his shoulder, and he allowed himself to run his fingers through her soft locks, enjoying the comfort of her presence, and the feeling of peace that invaded his wild heart.

“I’m trying Azriel, you just have to trust me.” She promised and he watched as she walked away to her bedroom, hips swaying and a hint of a lace undergarment underneath that damned shirt.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“You can’t do that!” Caeda spoke a little too loudly, and Y/N pushed her palm into his face, shutting his mouth.

“Do you want the whole castle to hear?” Her brother shoved her aside, and she hissed.

“No, but I won’t let you steal from Thesan.” He stomped his feet on the ground and she rolled her eyes.

“You were too young to remember Cae, how mom would walk around mumbling her visions, how they treated her like she was someone to be avoided, how they tried to get rid of her cuz being a seer is a curse. His friend needs help, and I’m willing to help.” Caeda looked at her, hurt laced his features as he remembered how people would look at their mom with disgust, choosing to walk away from her in fear.

“But why do that!? This could get you killed.” He protested once again, feeling the tears prick in the corner of his eyes, he couldn’t lose his sister.

“BECAUSE I COULDN’T HELP MOM!” She exploded, her voice echoing in the empty hallway. “She died because I couldn’t help her.”

“Y/N, it’s not your fault, no one blames you for that.” He tried to pull her close but she pushed him away, sending him stumbling backwards.

“Everyone did, including you.” She said, turning on her heels and winnowing away.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Azriel kept stirring the cake mixture as he heard a door closing with a loud noise, he was used to her winnowing home out of nowhere but something felt wrong, he could sense her distress from afar. Dropping everything he was doing, he walked to her door, knocking three times before he heard her sobs.

Worry filled him and he opened it, finding her curled in a corner, unable to breathe and crying, he felt desperate, as he kneeled down in front of her.

“Y/N, you have to breathe.” He begged but she ignored him, he grabbed her face, pulling her chin up and forcing her to look at him, her glassy eyes weren’t focused on him, on anything as the tears kept flowing and she gasped for air.

He scattered around his mind looking for something helpful, when he found it. Holding her face in between his hands, he pulled her close, kissing her lips, the salty taste of her tears filled his mouth, but she kissed him back, and slowly her breathing became even, and as he pulled apart, she was looking at him, breathing normally.

“How?” She asked, her voice raspy from crying.

“I read once that a kiss can make someone breathe better and go back to reality, when they’re distressed.” She watched him, her eyes slightly wide, and she took a deep breath.

She felt it, she grasped with her life to that thread, her heart pounding fast and head spinning, a voice inside her screamed the word “MATE!” to her, as soon as Azriel pulled away from her. She kept looking at him without knowing what to say! Should she tell him? Should she say anything at all?

“Do you want to talk?” He whispered and she nodded.

“I wanted to help you, help Elain, cuz my mom was also a seer.” She started and Azriel sat on the floor in front of her, massaging her hands, he didn’t care about his own, that brought him so much shame, at least not right now. “No one helped her, my father didn’t knew how, Caeda was a kid, and I was trying my best to get us going, she couldn’t work, and my father was underpaid for his services, so I had to go around and find any way to make money.”

“It must’ve been hard for you.” He said and she shook her head in agreement.

“It was, we tried to find potions or healers able to help her, we couldn’t count with the High Lord’s help cuz Thesan’s father wasn’t as good as him. People would cast her out, call her crazy, and treat her poorly for something she couldn’t control. One day, I was working in a rich family house, watching their kids and keeping the house organised. They paid well but they weren’t nice, so when I asked for the day off to take care of my mom, on a really bad episode, they refused.”

Azriel knew perfectly how she felt, it was how he felt all his life, trying to protect his mom from people who didn’t gave a fuck about them.

“So I went to work, but I didn’t know she was tired, she couldn’t take it anymore. I should’ve been there, I should have been watching her, but we also needed to eat. So she left the house, walked the whole day until she reached a beautiful ravine, and she jumped.” Azriel gasped in horror. “My father blamed me, and Caeda resented me for not being there. I still carry the way they would look at me in my memories, and this haunts me to this day, not being able to do anything.”

“How do you know about the pendant then?” Azriel dared to ask.

“When Caeda and Thesan met, they knew they’re mates, and they haven’t been separated since then, Caeda got me training and I became Thesan’s guard. In one of my studies I learned about it, and immediately knew where it was. When you finally told me about Elain, I understood. This is my redemption, the chance I have to prevent the same thing from happening again.” Azriel pulled her for a hug.

“Thank you for everything.” She nodded, and sought comfort in her mate’s embrace.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“Here you go.” She said, after another week, no explanation, no nothing, just the pendant hanging from her finger straight to his palm. He grabbed it and looked at her.

“Thank you very much.” She brushed him off.

“Just promise me you will write back.” He nodded, promising that he would, before he gathered his things and winnowed home.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Azriel watched as another letter appeared on his desk, destined to him, from her. He grabbed the envelope and discarded it on a pile of other unopened letters. He needed time to process everything that had happened.

Elain was better, the pendant held her visions back and made her slowly get back to her normal self, everyone was happy and back to their lives, but why did his heart yearn for something? For someone?

He would wake up in his own apartment, it lacked the smell of fresh coffee every morning, it lacked the subtle fragrance of her vanilla smell, it lacked the nice flowers hanging from the ceiling, it lacked the nice family photos where she smiled so brightly, it lacked her personal belongings around the space, and most importantly, it lacked her, resting her elbows on the countertop, with a damned shirt covering her perfect body, slightly tighter in the shape of her breasts and reaching the middle of her thighs, and that fucking little vision of her undergarment whenever she walked back to her room.

He missed her, a lot, but this could never work, he would rather let her forget about him, than feeding hopes of something more that would lead to more hurt and sadness in the end. So he shut those feelings for her and ignored that pull in his chest, not daring to dream of a life with her.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“I know what you did!” Thesan said, as he rose from his seat and headed to the door, inviting her in. They sat in the lounge area of his office, a soft breeze filled the room. He looked at her, really seeing her, the smile she always wore vanished, and she had bags under her eyes.

“I’m so sorry.” She didn’t see motives to try to deny, he knew and he would do whatever he wanted to her, he had that right as she stole from her own high lord.

“And I’m not mad, I didn’t know this pendant could do that, and if it’s helping someone, I’m glad it’s being used.” Thesan said and she looked at him, surprise marked her features. Thesan hadn’t seen her show another emotion other than sadness ever since a certain Shadowsinger went away. “But I need you to be honest with me, no more lies.”

“No more lies.” She agreed.

“Do you love him?” Thesan asked and she felt the tears gathering in her eyes and her chest heavy, exploring the thread between them, she nodded.

“He’s my mate, and ever since he went away, he pretends I don't exist. I sent letters and he didn't answer, I can’t simply go there without a reason.” She blurted and Thesan pulled a letter.

“Matters of the heart are a good reason to go to another court, go after him. I saw the way you looked at him, true love is so hard to find. Promise me that you will sort this out.” He begged, a stronger breeze filled the room.

“We just want you to be happy, my dear sister.” Caeda winnowed behind her, squeezing her shoulder, she turned around, hugging him with all the strength she had, then she hugged her High Lord.

“Thank you for this.” She winnowed home, preparing a small bag with some clothes and taking a long shower.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“Rhys, I’m here!” Azriel shouted as he entered the hallway leading to Rhysand’s office. He opened the doors but it wasn’t Rhys standing there waiting for him, it was Y/N. His heart almost burst out of his chest. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t answer my letters, I needed to see if you were alright.” She shifted her weight from one foot to another.

“Why do you care? It’s not like we’re really mates.” He said, and a strong pull in his chest made him flinch, like his own soul was disagreeing with him.

“That’s what you don’t get yet, we’re mates, and I will wait for you my whole life, but I don’t think I can’t wait for you like that anymore, I don’t want to be apart from you Azriel.” He looked at her in shock, was he her mate?

“Y/N, please. Don’t make this hard.” He pointed to both of them. “This won’t ever work, we’re from different courts and we can’t stay together without failing our respective duties.” His heart was splitting in two in his chest, he wanted to touch her so badly.

“Here.” She handed him an opened letter, he removed it from the envelope and read the words, but his brain couldn’t make sense of them.

“What is this?”

“My dispensation.” She smiled at him. “Thesan fired me from my job so I could be free to be with my mate!” Azriel swallowed harshly.

“And do you want that?” He approached her, his unsure hands pulled her close, and he breathed in her scent, his racing thoughts immediately gone quiet, this felt so right.

“I miss you every day, sometimes I feel your scent lingering around me, and my heart almost breaks in my chest when I realise you’re not here.” She repeated his words to him, and he pulled her to a kiss, all those confusing feelings finally vanished, giving space to the blooming love in his heart, love for her. “ I want to be with you, discover the wonders of our bond together, I want to be there when it snaps for you too. I want to love you and be loved by you.”

“It would be my honour to have you by my side, I don’t know when it will happen, but I know I’m ready to be with you.” He rested his forehead against hers.

“The bond can wait, but this can’t!” She looked at his eyes. “I love you Azriel.”

“And I love you Y/N.” He said back, kissing her with more passion than the first time. His hand sneaked to her ass. “Let’s go home, you’ve been driving me insane with that pretty ass for weeks, I need to have a taste.” He said, already starting to scent her arousal.

“We have all the time in the world, Shadowsinger.” She smirked at him. And he winnowed them home. Where they belonged.

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #sarahjmaas #azriel #moonlightazriel #shadowsinger #azriel x reader #night court #azriel x y/n #velaris #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #dawn court #azriel x female!reader #elain acotar

[ahatintimepieces]

He’s Going to be Okay

I wrote a little fic for @doodledrawsthings ahit “Coffee shop AU” about one of Luka’s early days working at The Horizon! Nothing fancy but I got the idea and just went with it. Please enjoy!

              Luka flexed his four fingers against his coiled torso, staring at the thick purple prongs with tempered despair. Yes, he had been getting used to his new fluid body after traveling around for a few years, but now that he had recently started working at The Horizon, he found himself aching for his human body even more.

              Whenever he shapeshifted, he became acutely aware of just how much he had changed. While making coffee or wiping down tables, he could feel how flexible his arms and fingers were, like they were those cylindrical jelly toys meant to slip out of children’s hands the second they were squeezed too hard. He always feared if he grabbed a carafe or a customer’s change too firmly, his hands would melt back into purple goop.

              Blinking, he ran his hand through the fur on his head. He had to get up. Hattie was at school, which he was so grateful that a chance for her to have a normal life as a kid again, and he had work, which was another wonderful blessing. But he was so tired.

              Shaking himself as he uncoiled and floated over to the bathroom, he gazed at his reflection in the mirror. His pair of golden, glowing eyes and jack-o-lantern smile stared back at him. He longed for nothing more than to see his familiar, human features, but just the idea of shapeshifting just then drained him of non-existent energy.

              Come on! He could do this! He had been working full time and taking grad classes on top of being a single father before all of this! He didn’t know the meaning of fatigue! Surely, he could keep his liquid body in the right shape for one measly shift!

              Determined, he shrunk himself enough to curl his tail at the base of the sink as he gripped the edges. He stared into the mirror. It was only his forth day on the job and he wasn’t going to be late! He stared at his golden eyes, using the promise of coffee to summon enough strength to—

              He groaned and hunched over the sink, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

              Okay. New plan! He would grab some clothes and commute as a noodle. Maybe a short flight through the forest would wake his body up enough to change.

              Once he collected his things, he shrunk himself and snuck outside through his bedroom window. Luckily, most everyone in the complex had either left for work or school, so he only needed to slip past an older couple sitting on a bench at the boarder of the forest. He flew behind him, using their own shadows for cover, and darted into the woods.

              Use the shadows to hide. Think about the coffee waiting at work. Remember he’s doing this for Hattie. Hattie. He has to be able to support her. His daughter is all he had left, and he knew he could be okay as long as he had her.

              Feeling a touch more rejuvenated from both his mental pep talk and the fresh forest air, Luka landed behind the usual tree he used as cover when he started to slip in work. From his tree, he could smell the roasted coffee and his mouth watered. While Hattie did make him breakfast that morning—complete with lots of bacon, as if his sweetheart knew he needed an extra boost—he found himself still hungry. He vaguely wondered if all the shapeshifting lately required more fuel as well as sleep, but he shoved those thoughts down swiftly.

              He didn’t really have time to dwell on these things.

              With concentration, he first focused on shifting into a humanoid shape. The fluff around his neck easily molded into tufts of soft hair and shrinking his length to his human height was also a breeze. The hard part was splitting his tail into legs and his mittens into hands. But soon, he found himself standing—oh standing! How he missed feeling firmly planted on the ground on two feet!—and he could flex his humanoid fingers and thumbs. Next came his features, which he manifested while he shimmied into his pants.

              Nose. Teeth that weren’t fangs. Human eyes—with pupils and everything!—and brows. He skipped the ears because he figured his hair would cover them anyway and he was still so tired. Cutting corners on his appearance might help. Soon enough, he felt himself in proper human-shape, even if he still felt like a water balloon with his innards shifting around in a magic shell.

              As he buttoned his shirt—something so normal felt so good—he focused on changing his color to match how he was before. Brown hair, chestnut eyes, and not a drop of purple anywhere on his skin. He inhaled a steadying breath and walked around the shop and towards the entrance.

              “Hey there, Luka,” MJ called from the cash register as Luka briskly walked towards the back. “How was drop-off?”

              Drop-off? It took Luka a second as he put on his apron before he registered that MJ was asking about dropping Hattie off at school—the reason Luka had said he couldn’t take an early shift.

              “Oh, yeah,” Luka offered a nervous smile. He felt bad not only that he had to lie about the real reason but also because he wished he could have walked Hattie to school instead of being confined to the apartment as a weird purple snake monster. “It was fine. She seems to be making friends already.”

              That, he realized gratefully, was true and he couldn’t be happier for his daughter.

              But it also meant he really needed to make sure he didn’t screw up this job.

              “That’s great!” MJ offered a warm smile before turning back to the customers, his blue hair bouncing on top his head with his movement.

              Luka glanced down as he tied his apron, smiling softly.

              “Enough chatting!” Clover appeared from the back with a tray of plastic-wrapped pastries in hand. “Luka, can you get started on making drinks?”

              “Oui, Chef!” Luka saluted, which earned an eyeroll from Clover.

              “We outsource the pastries, you goof!” She gave him a gentle nudge before restocking the reserves beneath the display case.

              Instead of quipping back, Luka just laughed as he crossed over to the espresso machine, where cups with orders were already lined up.

              It felt good, he marveled, laughing with coworkers. How long had it been since he just spent time with friends? His gaze lingered on his human hand as he grabbed a cup.

              Too long, he decided.

              The first half of the shift went by in a blur. The mornings were always busiest, leaving Luka pushing out cup after cup. It wasn’t until MJ handed him the last order that Luka let himself relax long enough to breathe. Even then, when he read MJ’s instructions on what coffee to make, it just read, “Luka’s Favorite.”

              “What?” Luka glanced over at MJ, taking a moment to briefly scan the room for anyone waiting for coffee.

              “You’ve earned it,” MJ answered as his gaze narrowed on something in front of him and furrowed his brows. MJ removed his red-rimmed glasses and frowned at an apparent smudge before using the edge of his apron to clean up the lens. “I don’t know your favorite though,” MJ looked back up, squinting slightly at Luka without his glasses. “You’ll have to tell me a few times before I remember, as a heads up.”

              “Chestnut-infused Columbian Bean with cream and sugar,” Luka replied softly, smiling as he started to make himself a cup. “What about you?”

              MJ pushed his glasses back onto his nose and was about to respond before he titled his head with concern.

              “Dude, you alright? You’ve got some pretty gnarly bags under your eyes.”

              Luka’s heart dropped into his stomach as he instinctively lifted a hand to his face.

              “Um, mind if I—” Luka gestured towards the bathroom and MJ nodded. Luka practically threw himself into the cramped employee bathroom and glanced up.

              Oh no.

              Sure enough, purple was starting to spread, starting at the base of his eyes. In addition, his chestnut irises were starting to reflect gold in the dim bathroom light. He glanced down at his hands, his usual indicator that he was out of time in his human-shape. They remained untouched by purple and he still had his thumbs.

              Okay. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. He had made it through most of the shift and might be able to stick it out the rest of the day. Looking exhausted was fine, so long as he still looked human.

              He inhaled a deep, calming breath. He would be fine. He just needed a cup of coffee and that should tide him over. He could stick it out! He could do this!

              He returned to the counter with an anxious smile plastered on his face. MJ was wiping down the top of the display case when Luka went to finished making his coffee. While he poured the cream, he noted his hands were shaking but he ignored them.

              “Luka,” MJ asked as Luka lifted the steaming cup to his lips, “is everything okay?”

              “Oh yeah!” Luka smiled but he soon felt two sharp somethings—his fangs, he realized with dread—dig into his bottom lip. Panic gripped his chest and he glanced down at his hand holding the coffee cup.

              The tips of his fingers were turning purple.

              “Actually,” Luka’s shoulders slumped with resignation. He shifted the coffee cup into his other hand—which was still free of purple—and hid his changing hand behind his back. “I’m not—I think I need to—”

              MJ zeroed in on his hand and for a second, Luka feared the purple was spreading and the cat was out of the bag, but his fears were soon assuaged when MJ spoke.

              “Your hand is shaking more than my old dryer!” MJ explained in disbelief and worry. “Listen, do you need to go home? I can cover for the rest of the day.”

              “I hate to leave you mid-shift again and with Clover off getting more cup sleeves—” Luka winced from the way his growing fangs scratched against his mouth as he stepped back towards the door.

              “It’s all good,” MJ promised, his brows tight with concern. “Just get some rest before you need to pick up your daughter.”

              “Thank you!” Luka just about dashed out the back door, “It won’t happen again!”

              He barely made it outside before the purple creeped up his arm and his fingers on his one hand clenched back into cumbersome mittens. He ducked behind the tree and let out a frustrated groan as his thin control over his body dissolved.

              Not wanting to ruin another pair of clothes, he placed his coffee down and swiftly undressed. He tried to maintain fingers on the hand that was just turning purple as he struggled with the buttons on his shirt. It took a few tries but he finally managed. The second he shed his shirt and pants, his purple form ballooned into the now familiar form of a large snake with fur and noodle arms.

              Luka sighed, leaning against the bark as fatigue and sorrow ate at his spirit. Wet, golden tears slipped down familiar paths etched into his cheeks. He momentarily entertained the idea of remaining there, in the shadow of the tree and stewing in his sorry state, but on the other side of The Horizon, he could hear the hustle and bustle of the people of Subcon. The longer he remained in the open, the more he risked being seen.

              Willing himself through the motions, he collected his clothes and draped them over his arm before scooping up his coffee cup between two thick fingers. Careful not to let the cup slip through his fingers because he knew that a little spilled coffee in that moment was all it would take to send him into a spiral of despair he might not be able to recover from, he headed home.

              He hovered through the deeper part of the woods since he had nowhere to be anytime soon. Of course, he wanted to be home before Hattie, but that wasn’t for another hour or two. So, he took his time, letting his tail wiggle lackadaisically as he flitted from shadow to shadow. The warm coffee in his hand was a small comfort and the toasted flavor of the beans soothed him to the core.

              He was mid-sip—eyes half-closed—when a small gasp came from below.

              Luka’s eyes snapped fully open as he glanced down over his coffee cup. A young child in a dark purple hood with fluffy brown bangs that concealed most of their features was craning their neck to look up at him.

              The two remained frozen as they stared at each other for a second. Luka clutched his clothes draped around his one arm and still held the coffee cup to his mouth while the child’s jaw hung open.

              “Wowie! What are—” The child’s awe-filled voice snapped Luka out of his petrification and before the child could finish their sentence, Luka flew away.

              Peck! He was seen! Sure, he had been seen before but usually not mid-day and never that up close! He glanced back at the kid, who thankfully wasn’t following him, just watching in shock.

              That might come back to haunt him…

              Oh well, Luka tried to console himself as he zipped back home. At least the kid didn’t see him shapeshifting, which was more likely to give away his identity. The thought of Luka being found out and having to tear Hattie from another home gripped his chest like ice, but he immediately forced himself to take deep breaths.

              It was okay. The kid saw a purple noodle in the forest with coffee. It was fine. There was no reason to think he was at risk of being found out.

              It was going to be okay. He would be okay. Hattie was safe and happy. Everything was okay.

              The area behind the apartment was void of life and Luka had no trouble shrinking and flying up to his bedroom window, which he had left open for easy access. He flew in and soon expanded to fill the empty room. Sighing, he gingerly set down his cup before folding his clothes and stacking them by the closet. Exhaustion overwhelmed him and he curled around himself, resting his head on his hands on the topmost coil.

              His eyelids drooped as he flicked the tip of his tail back and forth. He wished he could have finished his shift. He wished he could have kept laughing with MJ and that he could have been there when Clover came back.

              He squeezed his eyes shut, as if it would keep a few more tears from slipping out. No such luck. He heaved out a worn sign before shifting his focus on getting some sleep. Maybe if he rested enough, he would have enough energy to maintain a humanoid shape so he could cook a good dinner for Hattie. That would be nice.

              He fell asleep repeating his new mantra.

              It would be okay. He was going to be okay.

#a hat in time #ahit coffee shop au #doodledrawsthings #i hope this is okay! #i just really love this au and this was fun to write! #not sure i got all the details right #also i don't know MJs fav coffee order haha so i cut him off #but also i love this au right because coffee is like my fav thing and i'll take any excuse to give a character some coffee #that part about luka not wanting to drop his cup? that's absolutely me projecting and im sorry not sorry #but if you havent please check out doodledrawsthings! #their art is incredible #but yeah that's all i got #again reeeeally sorry if I messed up some key details but i hope this does the au justice! #my writing

[adenei]

Summer of Jily Week 4

It's week 4 for @efkgirldetective's Summer of Jily challenge! You sure did send me for a loop with this one, but I've managed to keep the one-shots turned multi chap story going!

This week's prompts: Picking Berries and "I know I kissed you before, but I didn't do it right."

Read on AO3

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

James didn’t sleep at all that night. He couldn’t stop thinking about the carnival. His thoughts shifted between being mad at Sirius for winning that damn prize and presenting it to Lily—that was his stupid, cheesy plan that his best mate had hijacked—and the Ferris wheel ride.

About saving your letters or waiting for you to ask me out?

How could he have been so thick? And how is it that he keeps royally mucking things up? He’d had the perfect opportunity to kiss Lily right there on the ride, but then it had to move again, and he’d gotten sidetracked at the feeling of flying on a muggle contraption.

Hadn’t he come along with the boys to crash the girls trip so he could spend more time with Lily? He’d devised the perfect opportunity to sweep her off her feet, and he swore to himself he would only ask her out if she made it blatantly obvious that she wanted him to. As much as it killed him, he’d rather not lose her friendship over pressing her one too many times.

But now, she had made it clear that she was waiting for him to make a move, and what does he do instead? Lets her walk away after the sunrise, hits her with a ball by the lake, and then avoids her throughout the entire carnival until their friends force them to share a compartment on that bloody ride.

He’d had the perfect opportunity to kiss her right there, to ask her to be his girlfriend, and what does he do instead? Freezes. James Potter, master of smooth pick-up lines, carefree, easy-going Gryffindor heartthrob (says the Hogwarts gossip circle, not that he pays attention to any of that—why would he when he’s got his heart set on one girl?) freezes.

Well, he didn’t totally freeze. After they’d apparated back to the cabin, he and Lily were the last two in the sitting area before they went to bed. He walked her to the door of the girl’s room and kissed her on the cheek before bidding her goodnight.

It had taken all of his willpower to not pull her into his arms and snog her senseless after her confession earlier that evening. Yet, after seeing her disappointed face before she shut the door to the bedroom, he wished he had. She’d thrown his entire game off, and he needed to fix it before he lost his chance with Lily for good.

Resigning himself to the fact that he was awake to see another sunrise, James dragged himself out of bed and picked up his glasses on the nightstand before stepping around the mattress on the floor where Peter currently snored away. He grabbed the nearest shirt he could find and threw it on before slipping out of the bedroom.

It was lighter out than he was expecting, meaning he’d probably missed the sunrise. The boys preferred to sleep in pitch black, but the spell they cast on the window the night before was fading, allowing the daybreak to sift through and consequently throwing off his sense of time. He started the coffee pot and leaned against the counter while he waited for the pot to brew.

Caffeine would be necessary to stay awake today, or maybe he could sneak a nap in at some point. Hell, maybe he’d be able to convince Lily to join him for said nap. He could think of plenty of things they could get up to whilst they were in bed together. James let his mind wander to thoughts of getting to know her in a more intimate setting. The kind that he’d often wank to when he needed a release.

The rich smell of dark roast wafted through the living area. James forced his thoughts away from images of Lily writhing beneath him as he reached for a mug. He only barely heard the click of a door as he pulled the pot off to pour himself a cup.

“Another early morning?”

James looked up to see Lily standing there, her hair messy from sleep. She ran her fingers through it in an attempt to comb it out. The green of her eyes were barely visible under still somewhat droopy eyelids. Something stirred within him, and despite the fact that he was only seventeen, it was a view he knew he could get used to.

“That would imply I slept. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, but I couldn’t resist the smell of coffee. Why couldn’t you sleep?”

“Peter’s snoring reached new levels last night.”

The lie slipped off his lips with ease, although it wasn’t altogether convincing. A simple Muffliato charm would have allowed him the peace and quiet he needed to fall asleep. Her skeptical look wasn’t lost on him as he absent-mindedly began fixing the cup he’d poured with the amount of milk and sugar Lily preferred. He wasn’t aware he was doing it until he handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she said. “Since when do you know how I take my coffee?”

“Come on, Evans, you don’t think I’ve noticed? Some things stick after eating breakfast with someone over the last year.” James smirked.

He grabbed another mug from the cabinet and poured his own cup without adding anything to it. James blew over the dark brown liquid to help cool it off as he watched Lily take a minuscule sip of her own.

“That’s fair. I still don’t know how you can drink yours black.”

“Some say I’m sweet enough on my own.” The quip was automatic as Lily laughed at his humor.

Merlin, her laugh is infectious. James swore the reason he said half of the stuff he did was so he could hear her laugh.

“Do you want to go for a walk?”

The question came from nowhere, but the early morning was so peaceful that he wanted to experience it with her, preferably hand in hand.

“Sure.”

They left their coffee mugs abandoned on the Formica as they headed to the door and slid on their shoes. Lily grabbed a jacket off the coat rack and zipped it up halfway. James closed the door quietly behind him then led her over to the trail he and the boys explored yesterday. The path wasn’t terribly long, but it ended up in a quiet and secluded area where the lake met pebbled terrain.

“So, was the dolphin a good sleeping partner?” James’s voice cut through the light layer of morning fog.

Lily chuckled. “I don’t know, I let Marly sleep with him instead.”

“Ah, Sirius will be heartbroken if he learns of your betrayal.” His words were meant to be a joke, yet they didn’t come across as lighthearted as he’d hoped.

“Well, good thing you won’t tell him. Right?” Lily’s questioning eyes made James’s heart skip a beat.

“I suppose I can keep your secret, Evans, but it’ll cost you.”

“Oh? And what might that price be, Potter?”

The green of the trees and shrubbery only enhanced the sparkle that glinted in her eyes. James wondered if she was testing him. Shouldn’t she know by now that he never backed down from a challenge?

“Ditch your friends and spend the day with me instead.”

“Like a date?”

“Yes, Evans, like a date.”

“Well, good thing we’re getting an early start. Now we can make the most of the day.”

James grinned at Lily’s acceptance as they continued down the trail.

They were nearly at the clearing by the water when Lily stopped, causing James to turn around. “Is this the path you and the boys were on yesterday afternoon?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, when Mary asked if you found anything interesting, you said no.”

“Because there isn’t…”

“That’s not true! Look at the blackberry bushes over there!”

James’s head turned to the direction Lily was pointing at, and sure enough, there were several bushes, low to the ground and full of clumps of blackberries. Lily bent down to pick a few off the branches.

“How do you know they’re blackberries and not nightshade or something?”

“Honestly, Potter, did you not pay attention when Sprout taught that unit on edible plants and where to find them in the wilderness?”

“No? Guess I was a bit distracted.”

“Nightshade grows off the stem in one circle. They look more like blueberries, except they’re shinier and darker. Blackberries have all the little bumps on them like this. Almost like a raspberry, but a different color.”

Lily picked a handful of berries during her explanation and stood when she was finished. James saw her holding them delicately in an effort to stop them staining her hands. Using her forefinger and thumb, she picked one up and held it to James’s mouth.

“Try it.”

James opened his mouth and let her place the berry on his tongue. He locked eyes with her as his lips closed around her fingers. An explosion of flavor bursts on his tongue as he bit down on the fruit. The tartness caused him to squint and pucker his lips slightly. Lily smiled at his reaction as she popped a couple berries in her mouth.

She was right—they tasted way better when picked fresh. He held out his hand for more, and she gave him a couple to munch on as they continued walking through the woods. James’s brain was fixated on the way she fed him as his feet moved him forward. Their hands grazed against each other, and James held on after the third bump. He felt her fingers intertwine with his as their steps aligned on the dirt path. As they inched their way toward the rocky clearing of the lake, a plan formed in his mind, and he knew exactly what he needed to do to match Lily’s brazenness of the night before and kick off their day-long date properly.

“Oh, wow,” she whispered as the trail gave way to the stunning view of the calm water ahead of them. The fog had settled across the still water, preventing them from seeing the other side of the lake.

“Lily—”

“Okay, the berries were one thing, but hiding this view from us? How—” Lily froze mid-sentence as comprehension dawned on her. “Did you just call me Lily?”

“Yeah, I did, but please go on about how we didn’t tell you about this.”

“No, I think I’d rather hear what you have to say instead.”

“You sure? I know how much you love being able to prove us wrong.”

James paused, waiting for Lily’s reaction. He loved riling her up like this. The way he alluded to something but then held it just out of her grasp to ensure that she truly wanted to know what he had to say. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he waited.

“What do you mean, am I sure? Would I have asked you to tell me if I wasn’t?”

He thought about keeping up with the banter, but he was tired of waiting.

“That’s fair. Look, I know I kissed you before—y’know, last night—but I didn’t do it right, and I’d like to make up for that right now if you’ll let me.”

There was a sharp intake of air, and if James could pat himself on the back for catching Lily off-guard, he would. But she regained her composure before shooting a challenging look in his direction.

“Since when does James Potter ask permission before kissing a girl? I thought he—how did Sirius put it? Sets his eyes on what he wants and goes for it?”

James chuckled and cringed at the same time, remembering how Sirius explained James’s intentions during fifth year.

“Well, as true as that may be, I still try to be a gentleman about it. I’d never make an unwanted advance if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Interesting, considering I thought I made it clear what I wanted last night.”

Were his eyes playing tricks on him, or did Lily just take a tiny step forward?

“Is that so?”

“It is. And it sounds like you’re stalling.”

“Please, Evans, you’d know when I’d be stalling.”

“What are you waiting for, then?”

The words barely escaped her mouth, James didn’t waste any more time as his hands lifted to cup Lily’s face. He leaned in and captured her lips with his, the tangy taste of the berries still lingering on her mouth. Everything about Lily’s lips were soft and inviting as her hands found a home on his lower back. He felt her mouth open slightly as her teeth grazed his bottom lip, eliciting a small moan from his mouth.

James deepened the kiss as his tongue swiped across her lips. Her hands pushed him closer as her mouth widened, inviting him to explore. A quack in the distance was the only thing that reminded them where they were, as James slowly broke away. She was more beautiful than he remembered, with her lips swollen from his kiss and the dazed look of bliss on her face.

“Well, I’m used to ending the date with a kiss, not starting it,” her words were breathless.

James chuckled at Lily’s words. “Am I to take that as a good or bad thing?”

“Good. Very good.”

“And just imagine, we’ve got the whole day ahead of us now.”

“This is true. Should we head back and get ready for the rest of the day?”

“Sounds brilliant.”

James had no idea what they were going to do for the day, but he planned on making the most of their time spent together. Nothing could go wrong.

#summerofjily #jily #jily fic #james potter #lily evans #james x lily

[prongsies]

Baggage Pt. 2 • George Weasley

PAIRING: George Weasley x Reader

SUMMARY: Christmas is the perfect time for the Weasleys to get the family together, and maybe it’s also a perfect time to welcome some new members in

WARNINGS: Language, smol bits of angst

PART 1

_______________________________________________________________

Laughter echoed through the walls of the Burrow, over the faint Christmas music Molly Weasley was playing on the radio. The smell of roast chicken filled George’s senses as he stood in the living room with his brothers and Harry, watching in amusement as the two hoisted Fred up from his wheelchair, helping him as he took a few wobbly steps forward.

A warm feeling made its way into George’s chest as his brother neared him, taking a few little steps at a time to get used to the feeling of having to rest his weight on his legs again. 

Of course, being the ever-loving twin brother he is, he held his hands out towards Fred, making grabby hands at him as if he were a child taking his first steps

“You’re a dick” Fred quips when he finally realized what George was doing. He rolled his eyes as Ron and Harry helped him back on his wheelchair, both stifling their laughter - which didn’t go unnoticed by Fred, “That how you lot see me, eh?”

“Please” George started, patting his twin’s head, hurriedly stepping back when Fred made a move to hit him in his regions, missing him by an inch, “You’ve always been a big baby”

“I beg to differ” Fred protested, crossing his arms over his chest, further proving George’s point.

The younger twin was about to retort when Molly cut him off, “Boys, please” She said, wiping away the beads of sweat that had formed on her forehead from the cooking she had done.

Removing her mittens, she instructed Ron and Harry to help help Fred up the stairs so he could get ready, before beckoning George over, “Fred’s potions just ran out this afternoon. Why don’t you go to (y/n)’s and get some more?”

“Now?” He asked, eyes trailing over towards the clock, indicating it was at least an hour before Christmas dinner - something he didn’t want to miss.

Molly followed his gaze before rolling her eyes, gently nudging her son out the door, which he made a difficult task by planting his feet firmly on the hardwood floor, “”C’mon, George!”

“I was just joking! Jeez” George laughed, finally making it easier for his mum to nudge him out. He stopped, turning to face his mother with a smirk playing on his lips, “It is quite admirable you’ve finally distinguished me Fred, mum! Tell me, did my missing ear give it away or the lack of wheelchairs?”

“I swear to Godric, George Weasley-”

“And I’m out” He rushed out the door, into the street while laughing, managing to grab his oat from the rack along the way. He trudged down the snowy street, giving his mother a thumbs up when she reminded him to invite (y/n) over to join them for dinner.

The walk to the store was shorter now, almost familiar to him as he’d been sent out there a few times after his brother had arrived home. He smiled upon seeing it, glistening with Christmas lights even if the store had been closed for the day.

He made his way to the back entrance, where (y/n) had given him a spare key, allowing him to walk into her home freely. Entering the back entrance to your potions lab, before ascending the stairs the led to your home.

He hesitated at first whether he should knock on your door or not, remembering the incident that had occurred just two days ago when he did - which led to you leaving your potion boiling for far too long, and... well, I guess you know what happened next.

His smile dropped, however, upon opening the door. As he walked in, he realized only the lights in the kitchen were on, bleeding over the kitchen island to partly illuminate the living room. There was a potion brewing in the coffee table, and beside the cauldron were vials of what George recognized were Fred’s potions.

Suddenly, he heard faint sobbing in the kitchen. Seeing noone there, he was quick to rush inside, scared that anything happened to (y/n), only to see you on the floor, leaning against the back of the island across the oven.

There was something baking inside, which George could only think to be pie, but he shook his curiosity off to kneel beside you, opening his arms. Before you knew it, you wrapped your arms around him, him doing the same to you, crying on his shoulder as you mumbled incoherent things muffled by his coat.

“(y/n)?” He said softly after a few minutes, pulling away to get a good look at you. Your eyes were rimmed red and your cheeks were flushed, a clear sign you’ve been crying moments before he had even arrived. “What’s wrong, love? Please tell me”

He cupped your face in his hands, wiping the last few tears that escaped your eyes with his thumbs as you dry-sobbed. “Here,” He stood, fetching a glass from the cupboards and filled it with water, handing it to you as soon as he sat back down. 

He watched as you slowly gulped it down, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest as soon as you finished. “What’s wrong, (y/n)?”

“It’s- it’s nothing really” You took shaky breaths to calm yourself, “You shouldn’t see me like this” You laughed softly, trying to clear the air which felt a little too heavy a little while ago. You looked up at him with a smile, only to see that his worried expression hadn’t left his face, “It’s nothing, George, really”

“How is it nothing, (y/n)?” He asked, “You rarely ever cry-”

“We literally just met a week ago, Gee” You joked, nudging his waist, “Besides, just because I don’t cry in front of you doesn’t mean I am incapable of doing so”

“I know,” He sighed, “I just don’t like seeing you sad s’all. I mean, you saved my brother’s life - you made my family and I happy, but here you are...”

“Looking like an outright mess?” You offered, earning a playful glare. 

Silence passed between the two of you as you both watched the pie slowly bake in the oven, catching a whiff of the blueberries you had put in there as they cook. “I miss my brother - it’s my first Christmas without him, you know?”

He nodded. 

“Merlin, the last time I saw him alive, we just finished arguing because he wouldn’t let me join in the fight” You laughed, “I called him a git and threw in some very colorful words and you know what he did? He stared at me - only for a few seconds - before laughing and hugging me. He told me he’d find me after it’s over but I found him- I found and he wasn’t moving and- and-”

George hugged you to his chest as you start crying again, allowing you to let all of it out because he knows - he knows how hard it is to keep everything to yourself, to not have anyone be there for you when you feel like you’re drowning in your tears.

He had been that person as well, for months. He sat in heir shared flat above the store, crying in the living room after coming home from visiting Fred, slowly losing hope day by day when his vitals weren’t improving, worrying constantly about how they’re gonna pay the bills, how his dad was doing since he basically lives in his office now to get overtime pay.

But the difference was, he had a family to go to - he had Bill and Charle, even Percy, to cry to. A family who visits him whenever he doesn’t make contact with anyone for weeks.

He jumped at the sound of a Ding! from the oven, you pulling away from him as soon as you heard it. With a sniffle, you stood up from the floor and grabbed a napkin from the island, blowing into it before shooting it into the bin. George followed suit soon after you, silently watching you pull the pie from the oven.

With a smile, you turned back towards George, “I’ll get ready, yeah? Wait for me here”

You were the center of praise as you joined the Weasleys in the dining room, everyone raising their glasses to you in a toast for helping Fred recover after everything. Beside you, George smiled, patting your knee in thanks as he used his other hand to raise his own glass.

With that, you moved into your room. disappearing behind the door, leaving George alone. 

____

As the dinner ensued, the table was filled with chatter. Hermione, who sat across you, asking about how much research you had to do to be able to get the potion right, to which you replied by jumping into the story of how you managed to burn off your full head of hair after trying it out.

This reminded Fred of the times he and George would lock themselves in their room, managing to burn off their hair as well trying to come up with something new to add to their products.

Finally, when dinner finished and everyone retreated in the living room to exchange presents, George invited you to take a walk with him outside, just to get a breath of fresh air since majority of the questions asked were directed towards you and your work.

“You family is something, no?” you remarked as Charlie’s laugh made its way into your ears, even if you stood meters away from the home, “They’re very lovely - especially Bill”

“Bill, huh?” He teased, wriggling his eyebrows at you, making your cheeks warm up.

“No!” You slapped his shoulder lightly, “He just- he reminds me of my brother”

“Well, he is the ideal older brother figure” George agreed.

You hummed in response as your eyes settled onto the night sky, marvelling at the stars. You didn’t notice, but he was staring at you as you kept your gaze above, entertaining the warmth he felt in his stomach and chest as he watched you.

“Hey, (y/n)” He cleared his throat, cheeks feeling hot now as well.

“Hmm?” You looked at him. He was fumbling with his fingers as he kept a respectable distance away from you.

“Do you... want to go out sometimes? Just us?”

“Funny, I was actually hoping Bill would come along” You joked, smiling as he gave you a flat look, “Really, though? Me? You know I’ve got a lot of baggage, are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“(y/n),” He chuckled, grabbing both of your hands, “I literally screamed at you the first time we met, do you think you’re the only one with baggage?”

You rolled your eyes, your smile now turning into a full-on grin, “So? Do you?”

“Yes,” You replied.

He grinned as he pulled you back into his arms, wrapping you in his warm embrace as you stood in the middle of their garden. When he pulled away, he was still grinning, almost squealing in excitement as he hugged you again.

“George” You laughed, “Come on, let’s go back inside!”

“You just want to see Bill” You glared at him, “I’m kidding! I’ve got a gift for you waiting in there anyway”

“I hope it’s Bill”

“Oh, sod off (y/n)”

You laughed as he pulled you back towards the Burrow, your hand in his as you smiled to yourself, knowing that somewhere up there, your brother is happy you have someone to consider as family even with him gone.

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines

[kirishwima]

sooo, for the cute prompts can I request some domestic life scenarios with the RFA? Have a great day/night ♡

YES, this is exacty what i meant when i asked for cute prompts hehe ^o^ I’ll also add Saeran bc well, i haven’t written anything for him before and he deserves love too!!

YOOSUNG:

* There’s two scenarios for this sweet bean; living with him as students, and living together after graduating.

* As students, his scedhule is a bit hectic-he leaves early for classes, comes back dead tired in the afternoon, and honestly he wants nothing more than to just throw himself over MC and rest his head on their chest, taking in their warmth to recharge from the days’ fatigue.

* He loves to be pampered and cared for-if MC offers to rub his back, or help him study/make him some tea or snacks while studying, he’ll be so happy! 

*He also loves to care for them though, and as a roommate, although often messy, he’s really caring-he’s usually the one cooking most of the meals, and loves to make MC’s favorites (the smile on their face when they eat something he’s cooked makes him twice as happy really), and will absoloutely cuddle them to sleep at night (aka at 3am when he’s done playing LOLOL, and is this kis a FURNACE WHY IS HE SO WARM)

* He loves to go grocery shopping together! He’ll absoloutely try and put MC in the shopping cart and run down the aisles with them until a security guard scolds them for it lmao

* When living together after graduation, he might mellow down a little-the initial jitters are gone, and he’s more comfortable around MC, especially if they move out and get a flat together-this is now their space, one they worked on and decorated together.

* Will absoloutely bring foster animals home, and even if they make a mess he cares for them so much MC finds it absoloutely endearing. Seeing him chase a bunny around begging it to stop pooping is quite freaking funny though and they do film him doing so and send it to the RFA chatroom lmao

* Honestly. Just an absoloutely sweet boyfriend, he’s just so grateful to have a person he loves to come home to everyday

JAEHEE:

* She’s the one that suggested moving in together, and though excited, she’s a little apprehensive at first

* She’s so used to having her own space and is really rigid about cleanliness even with her busy scedhule, so she’s afraid how she’ll react if e.g MC is a very messy person

* However she eventually learns to compromise, and so does MC-Their house is always clean, even if its’ a little messy at times. Jaehee learns to relax a little, and is just happy to have MC to come home to everyday

* Since they co-own the cafe, they take turns manning the shop and running house chores. She does however love whenever they’re able to go shopping for supplies for the coffee shop together.

* At home she’s always brewing new roasts of coffee or trying out new recipes of cakes and muffins-she loves baking with MC, finding it so adorable whenever they end up with flour on their nose, blushing a furious red if MC tries to feet them bites of the dessert themself. 

* She’s not a cuddler, but loves to hold MC’s hand in hers when going to bed-nowdays she actually finds it impossible to fall asleep without the feel of MCs hand in hers

* She’s almost always the first one up in the mornings, and always brings MC a cup of coffee in bed to wake them up, along with a quick kiss

* They have movie nights once a week, and take turns choosing the film-it’s usually Zen’s musicals whenever it’s Jaehee’s turn, but MC doesn’t mind-not when Jaehee cuddles up with them, resting her back on MCs’ chest as they watch, constantly turning around to MC with wide bright eyes to comment on specific scenes.

* Seeing her smile every day is honestly such a blessing who wouldn’t want to live with her aaaaa

ZEN:

* This boy LOVES living with his SO, loves it!!!

* He is however extremely busy....and often comes home late....

* He’s happy MC is so understanding, but he’s furstrated with himself for not spending more time together even though they live under the same roof

* After deciding to live together, he’ll be willing to move out of his half-basement and into a place they choose together-that house holds many memories for him, yes, both good and bad, but he’s ready to say goodbye to that part of his life to start a new chapter fresh with his beloved.

* He’ll have so much fun going furniture shopping-absoloutely he’ll drag MC down with him on every bed to ‘test how comfortable it is’ 

* MC that’s a lie he’s absoloutely just trying to make sure how durable its springs are RUN-

* Ahem. Anyway yeah creating a place for the two of them to call home is an amazing experience, and he’s very lenient with compromises-he wants MC to be as comfortable as possible in their shared space, especially when he’s often home late leaving MC alone.

* On his free days he absoloutely makes up for his absence, becoming the absoloute boyfriend material-will wake up early and make MC breakfast in bed, waking them up with the sweetest kiss and the smell of freshly baked pancakes, will spend the day pretty much lounging like a big fluffy housecat-he’s s such an active and sporty person, yes, but he’s human too, and we’re lazy by nature lol

* He loves to rest his head on MC’s lap, feel them running their hands through his hair as they watch something on TV. The feel of their hands on him bring him ultimate bliss.

* Honestly just absoloute husband material, if only he had a little more free time lmao

JUMIN:

* He’s also a really busy man, but has the blessing of being able to more or less make his own scedhule, considering his position, so he’s sure to never miss dinner time with MC-it’s his own little ritual with them

* He loves to lay in bed with MC in his arms, stroking their hair as they tell each other about their day. He can’t go to bed otherwise.

* If he’s abroad, he’ll skype MC every night and fall asleep with each other on camera, and he’ll make it up to them a thousand times over once he’s back home

* He loves to bring little gifts and surprises for MC when he comes home-from a bouquet of their favorite flowers, to something he saw that reminded him of them

* On days off, he’ll want to do something creative with them-Jumin’s always up for finding new hobbies and learning new things, so he’s eager to share this joy with MC

* ((his current obsession is sculpting-he’s absolotutely working on making a reailstic life-like sculpture of Elizabeth the 3d to place on their home’s entrance))

* Often he’ll cook with MC, trying out new recipes together, ones they picked up from their travels around the world-he’s not afraid of trying new things, and same goes to flavours. He especially enjoys meditarranean cooking, and will search for the best products to cook with.

* Loves to wake up first simply to watch MC as they sleep-their peaceful expression brings the biggest of smiles on his lips MC wake up you’re missing the purest sight in the whole world

* Such a loving husband, perfect bean, 10/10

SEVEN:

* When all’s said and done, when both he and his brother are safe and he can finally breathe, he’ll absoloutely refuse to live together with MC in the fort he’s lived in for so long. It’s such a dark and gloomy place, he doesn’t want MC, his bright wonderful MC to live in such a constricting place.

* He’s really a family-oriented person-he’ll want a proper home for him and MC and Saeran to live in, one where their lives can actually finally feel normal.

* LOVES looking for a home with MC, viewing different properties and getting a feel of what suits them and what not-when the real estates agent tells them of homes with rooms perfect to eventually become nurseries, he can’t hide his gleeful smile, how he squeezes MC’s hand at the thought of having a home, a family, children-all he never thought he could have.

* Adjusting to a normal, everyday life is hard at first-he’s so unaccustomed to the most basic of things (like a freaking normal sleep scedhule) but with help he’ll get used to them

* Eventually he can’t fall asleep without feeling MC besides him-if he wakes up and finds the bed empty he panics, thinking of all the worst scenarios. 

* Sometimes he’ll even get up at night to check that Saeran is alright, the fears of his past hard to completely leave behind.

* Learning to cook with MC and Saeran is a challenge he enjoys-it’s almost like a little cooking class, with MC hovering over the twins trying to make sure neither of them chops off a finger cutting onions or set the kitchen on fire by accident.

* If they have a backyard he’ll love tending to it-he doesn’t know much, but Saeran teaches him, and he has so much fun planting different flowers and watching them grow.

* Going to the supermarket with him is like taking a baby to the amusement park. He’s constantly finding candies and weird foods and stuff and tries to discreetly throw them into the shopping cart-it’s almost impossible to tell him no when he finds something he really wants and makes that cute ol’ puppy face as he clings to it ((that ‘it’ is most often Dr. Pepper and a heckton of junk foods))

* It takes a little getting used to, sure, but at the end of the day, living everyday with Seven is nothing short of an experience, and well, a way to make life fun.

V/JIHYUN:

* Honestly....he’s so caring and loves to have someone to care for and greet each morning every day with, but he’s been hurt so bad by such a person, that he’s really apprehensive at first.

* It took a long time for him to finally ask MC to move in with him-and even then he’s scared, scared of what they’ll see of him, scared of the power they hold over him-it’s like inviting a vampire into your home, a threat and pleasure all at once, and an offer impossible to take back once it’s been given.

* He’s so scared to love and give himself, worried there’s not much left of him to give-it’ll take a lot of patience and reassurance to allow him to open up again, to find who he really is and show his true feelings.

* When he does open up however-oh man. He loves so much and so strongly, and after starting to live with him, it’s impossible to think of how life was before him. It’s so natural, existing in the same space with him, it was as if there was nothing before him, no life to speak of.

* He loves to care for MC in the smallest of ways-from planting their favorte flowers on the windowsill, to softly humming songs to them when they can’t fall asleep, his hands wrapped around them, their head nestled in the crook of his neck as he rubs soothing circles on their hand.

* V’s a giver by his nature-to love means to give, and with MC he learns that to love is more than that-it’s to share. So he learns to share, to give and be given in return.

* He’s not a great cook, and more often than not something ends up burnt when he attempts to make meals, but he makes the most delicious hot chocolate in the whole world, and in the summer, he loves brewing all kinds of different lemonades, sitting out on the balcony with MC on particularly hot days.

* He’s not one that likes to stay home much-his soul is adventeruous, and he always feel a nagging feeling, the need to go out there and explore, see all there is to see-only now he wants MC beside him, wants to experience all there is with them.

* That doesn’t mean that he hates staying at home though-spending late lazy nights with MC, both in their pyjamas as they curl up on the couch-he’ll often smoke during those nights, be it his pipe or cigarettes, leaning closer to the window as they talk with MC about everything and anything. There’s something vulnerable about the night, and they’re the only person he wants to feel this vulnerability with, the only one he’s not afraid they’ll hurt him with it.

* Eventually he’d like to have a family, if MC also wants to-and even if not, he’d like to at least move into a house with them rather than an apartment, no matter how big or small it is-he’d just like a space with a yard they can plant a garden in, take care of it together. He’ll absoloutely grow fruit trees and herbs, bringing in the fresh produce daily to use for recipes with MC.

* He’s such a big softie and perfect husband material just-give this mint unconditional love p l e a s e

SAERAN/UNKNOWN:

* It also takes a l o t to get Saeran to agree to living together with MC. It’s not that he doesn’t want to-he does, more than anything, to be able to wake up everyday to his beloved’s smile, he’s just...scared. He’s not certain how he’d handle himself in certain situations, and living together with someone means they get to see every part of you, the good and the bad, and he’s afraid of how MC will react to the bad.

* They’ll have to remind him that they have seen the bad and the good, and they’re still here, and always will be. Only when he’s truly reassured of that will he agree, and even then he’ll be really shy and closed off at first.

* A place with a garden would be ideal, or somewhere with a view to a forest or away from the bustle of the city-he likes solace, and laying beneath a tree is the perfect remedy for his stress.

* Eventually he opens up, gets more comfortable around MC, starts to show his true self. The Saeran who’s happy, who is curious about the world, who constantly wants to explore and learn.

* He’ll love taking up a hobby like gardening with MC, will spend entire evenings with them on the couch and a book of botanology open on their laps as they sit with their shoulders touching, pointing to different plants and deciding on what they’d like to grow or not.

* He’ll visit Saeyoung frequently because well, he has to (aka he wants to but refuses to say it)), and will often inivte him back to their place, secretly laughing at his brothers’ jokes, enjoying how comfortably he and MC interact, seeing these two people-his family, in the same space he shares.

* It’s scary, to have a normal life after so long-but it’s what he craved the most, and now that he has it, he’ll never let go of it.

i had so much fun writing these aaa~

-send me mystic messeneger headcanons/prompts for characters to react to!-

#asks #anon #mystic messenger #mysme #mystic messenger prompts #mystic messenger headcanons #mysme prompts #mysme headcanons #jumin han #saeyoung choi #luciel choi #mysme 707 #saeran choi #mysme unknown #mysme ray #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #mysme zen #mysme v #jihyun kim #hyun ryu #Anonymous

[dragonshost]

meeting at a festival au + mystogan x laxus

“Remind me again why you’re dragging me to a farmer’s market,” Laxus grumbled, allowing himself to be marched down the street by Evergreen and her vice grip on his bicep.  The sound of her shoes on the cobblestone were driving nails into his sleep-deprived brain with every resounding clack.  “And why are you wearing heels?” Last he had checked, farmer’s markets were not the sort of thing one got gussied up for.

Evergreen sniffed, and tightened her grip on his arm.  For all that her choice of footwear was circumspect, they certainly weren’t slowing her down in the least.  “I met a farmer boy and I need you to vet him.  We’ve been flirting for a while, or at least... I think we have.  But he’s been going on about, ‘manliness this, and manliness that,’ so I need a second opinion.  You know I’m no good at judging the depth of something until I’m already in the water.”

Laxus hadn’t actually forgotten, though he had kind of been hoping that maybe Evergreen had with that choice of shoes.  Honestly, only she would shove him out of bed at o’dark thirty for something like this.  Contrary to what she believed, just because he was gay did not mean that he was a good judge of men. Experience had long since proven that he wasn’t.  In fact, he and Evergreen often had the exact same horrible taste in the exact same men - once was a coincidence but five times?  That was a pattern.  Not to mention the fact that Bickslow had once called them both, “the worst people at communicating in the world.”  Which was just insulting coming from a man sporting a bright blue mohawk at his age.

As they rounded the corner, Laxus stared at the venue for the farmer’s market.  “How is it already crowded?” he wondered aloud.  “It’s only eight in the morning.”  It wasn’t quite to the level of sardines yet, but it was still way more people than he was comfortable with.

Pointing with her free hand to the banners hanging everywhere, Evergreen read aloud, “Strawberry Festival.”  She ignored him as he rolled his eyes at her.  “And it’ll get more crowded later on as it gets hotter.  Since it’s a special occasion, the market will be open a lot later than it usually is.”

Ah, so sardines in a tin left out in the noon sun.  Something to look forward to.

The venue was also a lot larger than he had thought it would be, he noticed.  Prior to this, he’d believed that farmer’s markets were more of a “close down a block for an afternoon once a week to sell vegetables” type of affair, but this place was much more massive in both its square footage and the scope of what was available.  Alongside the fruits and vegetables being laid out were street food vendors setting up shop.  Laxus thought he even spotted a couple of bakeries laying out products.  And was that a woodworker?  There was even an open building in the center of the market, from which the tantalizing smell of fresh roasted coffee wafted out on the morning breeze.

Evergreen gave him a sharp tug, nearly toppling Laxus as his feet were suddenly and violently redirected off their course for the hot beverage of morning salvation.  “Not yet, you need to vet my farmer before it gets crowded.”

‘Her farmer’ was it?  Laxus tried not to grumble or dwell too much on the fact that the line for coffee would probably only lengthen while he followed through on Evergreen’s hare-brained notions.

The advertising banners for the strawberry festival only increased the further Evergreen steered him into the maze of stalls, as if anyone could miss the sheer amount of the red fruit being placed on display.  The smell of the fruit hung in the air, certain to increase to a sickening degree once the heat started to rise, but for now it merely made Laxus ravenous for the breakfast Evergreen had hurried him into missing.

It was in front of one of the strawberry displays that Evergreen parked him, finally releasing his arm.  “Alright,” she said, pointing to a stall down the lane.  “That’s his spot.  I want you to stay here and listen and then report back to me later.”

“Wait,” Laxus said, a muscle beneath his right eye beginning to twitch.  “So you’re telling me I’m not even supposed to meet the guy?  What the point of me even coming along to vet him for you, then?”

She huffed.  “I can’t show up with you, arm in arm, and give him the wrong idea about you and me, can I?”

Laxus gestured down the lane.  “There’s no way I’m going to be able to see him or hear him from this far away!”

Apparently this had not occurred to her.  Evergreen stared at him blankly as she pondered his point.  Then she gave it up as a bad job and shrugged.  “Figure it out,” she told him before walking off.  To add insult to injury, there was a noticeable bounce in her step.

He stood there for a moment, glancing at all of the produce being... well, produced and arranged to catch the attention of the farmer’s market patrons.  It was then that his stomach decided to rumble, and with a groan he turned around to check out the strawberries behind him.

Only to suddenly come face to face with the owner of the stall instead.

...Sort of face to face, anyway.  The man had a thick scarf wrapped around most of his face, making it hard to see much aside from his eyes.  Standing so close to him, Laxus could see that they were a lovely shade of dark brown, like well-watered earth.

“Excuse me,” the man stated, indicating the display that Laxus was blocking.  “I need to put up the prices.”

“Sorry.”  Laxus stepped back a bit to allow the man to do his job.  It wasn’t just the scarf, it seemed.  The man was covered head to toe with long sleeves and gloves and culminating in... hip-waders. To his delight, it seemed as if Evergreen wasn’t alone in her poor choices on footwear this morning.  Hip waders were a pretty ironic choice given that as the heat increased, the boots would begin to fill with sweat and fulfill the exact opposite of their original purpose.

“Have you considered approaching the stall later and pretending you don’t know each other?” the man commented, straightening up the final price tag on the display.

Laxus stared at the farmer, who had turned around and was now regarding the other man with... was that amusement Laxus spied?  “Huh?” he replied, eloquently.

“Your friend,” Hip-Wader Man replied, his voice tinged with what was definitely amusement.  “Sorry to eavesdrop, but it’s not a very big stall so I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”

“Oh.”  Laxus took a moment to process what Hip-Wader had said.  “That might work.  But he might stop flirting to take care of a new customer, right?”

Hip-Wader nodded thoughtfully.  “You have a point.”  He leaned over and peered down the lane of vendors.  “It looks like she’s at the Strauss stall.  So I’m guessing her farmer is Elfman?”

What kind of a name was Elfman?  At least he seemed to have a last name though.  For all the years that he’d known her, he still wasn’t sure what Evergreen’s was.

“She didn’t mention a name.”

“If it’s him, then there’s really nothing to worry about,” Hip-Wader informed him, straightening his spine once more.  “Elfman’s a good kid.  His older sister keeps him in line, so he knows how to treat women kindly.”

Did this mean that Laxus wouldn’t have to go over there now?  Excellent.  “Tell me more,” he prompted.

With a snort, Hip-Wader withdrew, walking around to the other side of his display.  “You’re bad at hiding your thoughts,” he commented.  “Not that that’s a bad thing.”

Laxus grunted.  Well, that was a first for him.  Most of the time people told him he was as transparent as a brick and twice as blunt.  “Why the getup?” he suddenly asked, curiosity overtaking him.  “It looks hot.”

An awkward silence descended upon them as Hip-Wader’s eyebrows shot up to his hidden hairline, and Laxus contemplated the prospect of stapling his mouth shut when he returned home.

“I was cold,” Hip-Wader finally said.  “But I’m not anymore, so...”  Slowly, he removed his gloves and unwrapped the scarf from his face.

Laxus took back any crack he’d ever made about Bickslow’s blue hair.  Because wow, this man made it look good.  It was a brilliant hue, and offset by the bright red tattoo Hip-Wader had over his right eye.  He seemed to be about Laxus’s age, if he had to guess.  And by the way the fabric bunched against the man’s arms, Hip-Wader was also packing some serious farming muscle.

Oh no.  He was exactly Laxus’s type.

Hip-Wader stuck out his hand, and Laxus shook it numbly.  It was really warm, on account of gloves.  “I’m Mystogan, by the way,” the other man stated.

“Laxus.”

Releasing his hand, Mystogan gestured at the strawberries on display.  “Tell you what - buy something and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“Phone number?” Laxus replied without thinking, his soul departing as the words left his mouth.

To Laxus’s great surprise, Mystogan smiled.  “Sure.”

Later that day, when Laxus finally managed to drag Evergreen away from the closing down market, he promised to come with her again next week to make up for having never made it down to Elfman’s stall.

#mystlax #i assume that's the pairing name? #mystogan #laxus dreyar #fairy tail #fanfiction #dragon did a request thing #sassyhazelowl #dragon roars

[taetaespeaches]

“So Claude, what’s your real name?”

Taehyung x Reader

Word count: 5K

a/n: I did a stupid amount of research for this scenario and I don’t even know if I’m proud of how it turned out... fuck me right? lmao. I just wanted to make sure that it was somewhat realistic in that they would be looking at art that is actually in Paris. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this at least a little bit. It’s based on this concept the lovely @newodds​ sent in, in which Tae meets the reader in Paris and they look at art together. As always, thanks for reading babes. 

For reference:

This is the set of lyrics from Billie Holiday’s Lover Man that helped inspire this scenario: 

Someday we'll meet And you'll dry all my tears Then whisper sweet Little things in my ear Hugging and a kissing Oh, what we've been missing Lover man, oh, where can you be

Also, here are the two paintings involved in this scenario:

Van Gogh:  Le semeur, soleil couchant 

Monet: Field of poppies near Vétheuil

p.s. The Bührle Collection (the art collection Tae and the reader are looking at in this) is in Paris from March 20 through July 21 and BTS are in Paris in June for the Speak Yourself tour, so this kind of worked out if you imagine it’s June... see, stupid amount of research. 

The overwhelming aroma of roasted coffee beans mixed with a subtle smell of fresh baked pastries flooded your nostrils as you entered the museum’s café. The sweet fragrance made your mouth water as you stared ahead of you at the big glass display case, rows upon rows of baked goods taunting your taste buds. 

Approaching the display to take a better look, your eyes widened at all the options laid out in front of you. You let out a big audible sigh, not realizing how loud it was due to earbuds that were currently jammed into your ears. However, your expression of indecisiveness caught the attention of the man next to you, eliciting a deep chuckle from him. 

As he took in your appearance, he found that he couldn’t peel his eyes away, intrigued by you for some reason that he couldn’t quite figure out. You were beautiful, but it wasn’t just that. He felt drawn to you, hit with a craving to know how your mind worked and what made your heart race. 

Feeling eyes on you, you turned to your side, jolting slightly in surprise when you noticed the extremely handsome man staring right at you. Quickly, you grabbed the earbud cord to rip it out of your ear, effectively making the bud fly right into the man’s face, smacking him on the cheek under his eye. He flinched back a bit as he blinked quickly and repeatedly. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you frantically apologized, bringing your hands towards his face with the intention to inspect his injury, however stopping yourself before touching him, reminding yourself this dude was a total stranger. “Are you ok? I’m so, so sorry.” 

The most beautiful expression of happiness you’d ever seen spread across his face in the form of a boxy smile, a deep chuckle reverberating from his vocal chords making his Adam’s apple bob against his long neck. In a trance caused purely by how fucking gorgeous this guy was, you slowly apologized again, your voice quiet as you began to whisper until the sound all but faded out. With your hands still near his face, his large and strong hands clasped over your own, lowering them between your chests as he shook his head. 

“It’s ok,” he spoke in over-enunciated English, a noticeable accent peeking through his articulation as he smiled. Freezing momentarily, you looked at your hands which were wrapped up in his, your eyes scanning over the protruding veins as your heart skipped several beats and then pounded rapidly against your chest in an effort to catch up with the beats missed. 

He lowered his head to enter your eye line, bringing your focus back to his stunning face. The beautiful smile still on display, he nodded at you. “I’m ok,” his low timbre assured you. You felt your cheeks blush as he released your hands from his grip. 

You licked your lips nervously, averting your eyes from his face, the small leather film camera case hanging off the man’s shoulder catching your gaze for a moment before you looked around the café, eventually focusing back on the plethora of pastries. His eyes were still on you, you could feel it. “Um,” you started, looking back at the handsome man. “Can I make it up to you?” 

He squinted his eyes at you, his face morphing into an intimidating look making you feel nervous. You licked your bottom lip again before taking it between your teeth, turning back to the pastries. 

“Sorry, I uh,” he started, making you look back at him in anticipation. His facial expression had softened again, now appearing bashful. “I don’t speak much English,” he apologized shyly, his tongue swiping out for a quick moment. With his eyes wide and innocent, he resembled a child.

“That’s ok,” you assured him with an affectionate smile. “Uh, do you want something?” You gestured at the case, then pointed at yourself. “On me,” you smiled. Realization flashed across his face as he smiled again, nodding enthusiastically. His reaction elicited a giggle from you as you turned back to the pastries. “So many options,” you said out loud. 

The man’s eyebrows pulled together as he scanned the choices. “What’s good?” He asked you, his eyes once again changing from intimidating to childlike within a second. Holy duality, you thought. 

“Um, I don’t really know. I’m a tourist,” you clarified. 

“Oh, tourist? Me too,” he smiled. 

“What brings you to Paris?” You asked, genuinely curious. 

His low voice hummed in thought. “Work.” He said simply, to which you nodded slowly. Before you could ask further, his mouth smacked open, though no words were spoken yet as he looked towards the ceiling, thinking of the words to put together to form a sentence. So endearing. “I’m here with my work members, but I have a day off.” He nodded once, proud of his explanation, his cute expression tugging at your heart. “Why are you here?” 

“Vacation,” you explained. You thought about trying to explain that you were here with your friends touring across parts of Europe and that they were way too hungover from partying last night to leave the hotel room today, but you didn’t know if he would be able to understand you. He nodded at your short explanation, so you left it at that. 

“So, you like art?” He asked, eyes gleaming with excitement as he chewed on his bottom lip. 

Nodding, you smiled. “I don’t know a lot about art, but I’m trying to learn more,” you explained, however, it looked like he only understood part of what you said. 

“You know Vincent Van Gogh?” He asked in anticipation. 

“Of course,” you nodded as a big geometric smile spread across his face, making you mirror his expression. 

“He’s my favorite,” the man informed you proudly making you smile even wider. His obvious fascination with art was endearing and made you want to know more about him and his interests. “Your favorite artist?”

“Mine?” You pointed to yourself making the man nod enthusiastically. “Monet. I like landscapes,” you elaborated. He smiled widely at your answer. 

“I like Monet too,” he told you with a happy, close-mouthed grin, eliciting a giggle from you in response to his cuteness. “Um, exhibit,” he started bashfully. “Uh, Van Gogh and Monet. It opened today,” he said.

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded. “I read something about it,” you pulled out a pamphlet you picked up on your way inside the museum. Pointing to the page about the Bührle Collection, he leaned towards you to look at it. His proximity made you feel weak as you took in the scent of this handsome stranger.  

“Ah, yes,” he smiled happily as he met your eyes from his position, hovering above you, not seeming to care how close he had gotten to you. “I was excited,” he started as he gathered his words. “I leave tomorrow, and this opened,” he explained.  

“Oh, just in time,” you smiled. “Must be fate.” Taehyung smiled fondly at your words. 

Basically, the Emil Bührle Collection from Zürich was quite the prestigious collection of art, and it was being presented in a temporary exhibit at the very museum you both stood in, the Musée Maillol, right there in Paris. And it just so happened to be the exhibit’s opening day. 

“Would you like to visit it with me?” He asked you with big puppy-like eyes as he pointed to the pamphlet. “After food,” he added, making you giggle in response. 

Despite not knowing this man, he seemed genuine and pure, and that made you feel comfortable enough to accept his invitation. Nodding with an affectionate smile, you replied with, “I’d love to.” His lips spread into the biggest boxy smile you’d seen from him yet, effectively melting your heart, as he gave a single happy nod. 

Both staring at each other for a moment, your eyes scanned each other’s features. That’s when you noticed the freckle at the end of his pretty nose. Well that’s adorable. Breaking your gaze from him with a small sigh, you turned back to the pastries, his gaze following yours. “Here,” he announced as he shut his eyes and pointed his finger towards the glass display case. Moving his arm around in circles and left to right at random, he stopped, peeking one eye open to see where his finger landed. Really freaking adorable. Both of you leaning forward to inspect the item, you discovered it was a pear and hazelnut tart. “You like?” He asked you, to which you nodded. “Good,” he gave another single nod. “For you. Now you pick for me,” he smiled pointing to himself. 

A shy smile appeared on your face as you tentatively covered your eyes with your hand and mimicked his motions as you pointed your finger at the pastries. Removing your hand from your face, you saw that your finger landed on a chocolate eclair. “Do you like those?” You asked him as he nodded excitedly, making you giggle. 

You both made your way to the counter to order, telling the girl which pastries you wanted, as well as placing an order for a small café au lait for yourself. “Um, do you want a drink?” You asked the beautiful stranger to which his eyes popped open wide, his mouth shortly following suit. After a moment of thought, he smiled shyly, a blush tinting his cheeks.

“Uh, coke?” Smiling fondly at him, you nodded and ordered his coke. “I don’t like coffee,” he added, his embarrassment growing. 

“That’s ok,” you assured him sweetly. “It can be bitter.” He smiled graciously at your comment, thankful for your understanding. 

When the girl asked for a name, before you could answer, the man replied with “Claude Monet”. Turning to look at him, you couldn’t help the massive grin that overtook your features. Utterly fucking adorable. The girl slightly chuckled as she nodded and wrote Claude Monet down. As you reached into your bag to pay, the stranger stepped in front of you, taking the bill himself. 

Sitting down at a table as you waited for your order, you playfully glared at the stunning man. “I was supposed to pay,” you told him, making him look at you innocently. “Because I did that,” you reached up to gently poke the red mark on his cheek. As your finger met his unbelievably smooth skin, a grin overtook his face. Shaking his head, he wrapped his hand around yours, intertwining your fingers as he lowered them both to the table. 

“On me,” he said through his smile, to which you mirrored his grin, unable to hold back the display of happiness. Your hands broke apart a few seconds later when the girl called out “Claude Monet,” sporting an amused grin as she did so. The beautiful man shot up quickly, retrieving the treats and snacks, and as he made his way back, he stared at you intensely. When he sat down, his gaze remained on you as if he was looking over your every feature and blemish. You thanked him quietly for the pastry and drink to which he gave a small nod. 

Feeling intimidated by his stare, you directed your eyes on the tart in front of you as you prepared to ask him a question, curiosity taking over as you wanted to know more about this adorable yet unbelievably handsome and sometimes intimidating stranger. “So, Claude,” you teased, eliciting an immediate chuckle from him. Feeling braver in response to his playfulness, you looked up at him with a smirk. “What’s your real name?” 

With a soft smile, he looked over your features fondly before responding. “Taehyung.”

“Taehyung,” you repeated, carefully enunciating as he hummed in approval. 

“What’s your name?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in curiosity, lifting his coke to his lips to take a drink. 

“Vincent,” you put your hand out for him to shake. “Vincent Van Gogh.” At that, Taehyung burst into giggles, taking your hand and shaking it gently. 

“Wow,” he said happily. “Big fan of your work,” he added, playing along. 

Smiling widely, you told him your real name as he still held onto your hand. “Nice to meet you,” he told you genuinely, his mouth shaped into a fond smile. 

“Nice to meet you too,” you agreed. Reluctantly, he let go of your hand, and you both looked down to your pastries. “So, Tourist Taehyung,” you began to ask another question. “Where are you from?” 

“Korea,” he said with a smile. “You?” After telling him, he responded with a loud, “Ah,” flashing a thumbs up, attracting the attention of the man sitting next to you for a moment. 

Laughing at his cute action, you took a sip of your drink, sneaking a glance at Taehyung as he held his coke in one hand and the éclair in the other, a happy grin on his face. Taking a bite of the eclair, he hummed in satisfaction. Holding it out to you, you looked at it in question, and then up at him. He gestured to it, silently telling you to take a bite as he raised it closer to your mouth. 

Tentatively, you leaned forward and bit a piece off, instantly letting out a small moan at the taste. “Good?” He asked you, looking at you with big eyes. Nodding enthusiastically in response, you immediately lifted your tart up for him to try. With an affection look on his face, he leaned down and took a bite. His eyes widened as he flashed you a close-mouthed smile. 

“Good?” You asked him as you licked your lips, ridding them of eclair crumbs. Instead of answering, he bounced his head around as he hummed in approval. That’s when you noticed he chewed in pout. HE CHEWS IN POUT. Admiring his pouted lips and innocent eyes, your heart might as well have exploded in your chest. How can someone even be this adorable?

He held his coke up for you try, to which you giggled. “I’ve had a coke before, Taehyung.” He simply shrugged and took a sip for himself. Pointing to your coffee, he silently asked for a taste. “You don’t like coffee,” you reminded him with a small giggle, however, he flashed you a pout. “What, when in France, do as the French do?” You asked, causing him to smile widely as he chuckled. 

Holding the cup out to him, he took it from you to take a sip. He tried to keep his face still, but the bitterness of the drink showed through his expression, his features twisting up into dissatisfaction. A laugh escaped your lips, fully amused by his disgust as he washed down the bitter taste with another drink of his coke. As he watched you laugh, a smile slowly appeared on his face. 

“I like your laugh,” he said abruptly, causing your laugh to slowly fade away as your smile turned into a bashful one. 

“Thank you,” you said shyly. “I like yours too.” That caused him to smile even wider. “I like your freckle too,” you blurted out, making him look at you in confusion. Why the fuck would you say that, you idiot? “Uh, your freckle..” you said nervously, “at the end of your nose.” To clarify fully, you gently tapped your finger on his nose. “It’s cute,” you smiled shyly, heat flushing from your cheeks down your neck. Taehyung touched his nose as he figured out what you were saying. 

“Thank you,” he smiled as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink. You cast your gaze towards your feet in embarrassment as he kept his eyes locked on your face, his orbs taking in your features, admiring every detail. His stare made you feel shy, yet you also felt appreciated and seen. 

“So, you take pictures?” You asked, gesturing to the camera case. 

“Ah,” he said, tapping his fingers on the leather case. “I love taking photos. Uh landscapes, people, everything.” You smiled at his words, your mind pondering what it must be like to see through Taehyung’s eyes. “I’d love to take your photo,” he admitted shyly, making your breath escape your lungs for a moment.

“Oh, thank you,” you smiled, your cheeks heating intensely as you shot your eyes to your coffee cup, watching your thumb rub circles against the side of it. “I don’t know though, I might break your camera,” you joked, though Taehyung didn’t comprehend what you said. Probably lucky for you, as well, as you figured he was the kind of guy who would have lectured you on why that wasn’t true. 

“What were you listening to?” He asked you suddenly, your eyes shooting up to his face in question, as a small “huh?” escaped your lips. He tapped his ear with his pointer finger as he asked again, “Uh, music?” 

“Oh,” you said in realization. “Uh,” you dug in your pocket to find your phone. Opening up your music app, you turned the device so he could see the screen. A sweet smile spread on his pretty lips as he read the song and artist, which was Lover Man by Billie Holiday. 

“Billie Holiday?” He asked, almost knowingly. 

“Yeah. She sings with so much soul,” you gestured to your heart to emphasize your reasoning. With so much fondness, Taehyung looked at you.. he really looked at you.. and you really did feel seen. 

“I love jazz,” he told you, eyes bright and attentive. “Jazz makes you feel.” The atmosphere that seemed to encase you both at that moment was overwhelming, in the best way possible. You were amazed by how at home you felt with this guy you just met. With your heart racing, feeling a little too much, you decided to change the topic. 

“Um, so Van Gogh,” you started, “Why is he your favorite?” You asked him as you took a bite of your tart. 

“Uh, colors…” His tongue swiped against his bottom lip as he smiled bashfully, feeling embarrassed by his inability to express his thoughts in English as you peered into his deep orbs. You picked up on the blush tinting his cheeks and nodded in encouragement. "Um, colors and... feeling,” he continued. 

“His paintings make you feel,” you said in understanding. Smiling beautifully, he nodded. 

As you both finished your drinks and baked goods, sharing the pastries until they were all gone, Taehyung gestured to the exit. “Ready?” He asked you happily, to which you nodded with a big smile. Exiting the museum café with him, you felt like you were dreaming. You don’t just bump into super attractive men with duality that gives you whiplash who also love art and jazz and photography and have a mind and soul so deep and profound you just want to dive in and explore everything. That doesn’t just happen. That’s fucking fiction. 

But when he accidentally bumped into you, his hands reaching out to gently grab your arm to stabilize you, the touch searing you, and as he looked at you with his soft expression and apologized in his low timbre, you knew this was very real. Taehyung was real, and he was there, and when he looked at you with those thoughtful eyes, he saw you. 

Walking around the museum, you gazed upon the works that were permanent fixtures of the Musée Maillol. Not much was spoken between you and Taehyung besides the occasional, “Wow” or “Beautiful” or “Look at this one”. 

Beyond those few words, you mostly just enjoyed the comfortable presence Taehyung provided you, making you feel at home yet also lighting a curiosity within you, making you feel alive. All you knew about this man was that his name was Taehyung, he was from Korea, he was in Paris for work of some kind, he loved art and photography, his favorite artist was Van Gogh, he disliked coffee, loved coke and sweet pastries, he had the most expressive eyes, the sweetest smile, and the most stunning facial structure, and you liked him a lot. 

Exploring the great works of Picasso, Warhol, Matisse, Braque, and so many more, you couldn’t keep your gaze off Taehyung. The masterpieces lining the walls were nothing compared to this man you felt almost destined to find. 

When you approached the part of the museum where the Bührle Collection was being displayed, you took notice of the giddiness being expressed through Taehyung’s strut and the way he looked at you with an enthusiastic glint in his orbs. Stepping into the exhibit, the first piece you saw was Manet’s Un Coin du Jardin de Bellevue. 

“Wow,” Taehyung awed, to which you nodded in agreement, referring to both the painting and the man at your side. Moving from piece to piece, admiring the works of Renoir, Cezanne, Signac, Degas, Gauguin, and more, you took sly glances at Taehyung, exploring his expressions, the emotions the works were evoking showing themselves on his features. 

You found it difficult to tear your eyes away from the slope of his nose, to the perfect structure of his jawline. He would swipe his tongue over his lips quickly when he was deep in thought about a piece, his eyes taking on that intimidating gaze that you had discovered just meant he was inside his mind. Every time he saw a technique used in the painting that he liked a lot, you could instantly tell by the way his lips would quirk up, his eyes taking on a soft gaze as his orbs bounced from detail to detail. You especially loved the way he could feel you staring at him, his lips turning up into a confident smirk, his gaze slowly shifting to you as you quickly averted your gaze to the painting, pretending to nod in approval of what you saw, making him chuckle breathily. As you walked away, you could feel his gaze following you. 

Catching sight of the next painting, you could instantly tell it was the Van Gogh piece. Turning around to meet his gaze that was locked on you, you whisper-shouted “Van Gogh” pointing to the painting. It took a moment for him to register your words as he intensely stared at you, but suddenly his eyes popped wide open, appearing innocent, the excitement etched throughout his features. His beautiful boxy smile spread across his face, making your heart grow three sizes larger.

Van Gogh’s Le semeur, soleil couchant, or Sower with Setting Sun was stunning, and you immediately understood what Taehyung meant by colors and feeling in Van Gogh’s work. The colors used evoked a specific feeling, the yellow golden glow of the setting sun placed behind the sower like a halo gave off the impression of comfort and warmth, awing you with its radiance. The purple of the field was calming. With the small house in the background, the feeling of home, rest, and joy was portrayed. The image of the sower working gave you a feeling of humbleness. It wasn’t one of Van Gogh’s well-known self-portraits and it wasn’t Starry Night, but it was its own special piece that made you lose all sense of time as you admired the sower at work. 

When you eventually pulled your eyes from the painting to look over at Taehyung, he was already watching you, a soft expression gazing at you. “I love it,” you whispered. 

“Comforting,” he whispered back. “Feels like home.” As he spoke those words, his eyes stayed locked on your own, the intensity of his stare giving you the impression he wasn’t simply talking about the painting. In response, you smiled shyly as your fingers slowly sneaked forward to gently play with his own, hoping the touch would convey how you felt in that moment. Taehyung lightly chuckled, his tongue swiping over his lips quickly before he flashed a tender smile. “Your work is great, Vincent,” he teased with a playful sparkle in his eyes. 

Scrunching your nose in amusement, you bit your bottom lip as your mouth formed into a pleased grin. “Shall we take a look at your work, Claude?” You teased back, to which he all but snorted out, drawing the attention from a few art spectators passing judging glances, however, you both were unbothered by their looks. 

Approaching Monet’s Field of poppies near Vétheuil, you were immediately reminded why you loved Monet so much. The way he utilized his limited palette and used broken color to create such airy looking scenes never failed to mesmerize you. His brush strokes varied from light and misty-like to short and thick to show how the light passed through and changed over the scenery. Seeing one of his pieces in person stunned you. 

The contrast between the cool blue sky and green trees in the upper half of the painting and the warm reds in the poppies drew you in as you admired how the brush strokes were used to portray different features in the scene. As you were lost in the painting, Taehyung was lost in you. 

His eyes started on the painting, admiring the techniques displayed in the work, however, he snuck one single glance at you and he couldn’t bring himself to look back to the piece. Your teeth tugged on your bottom lip as your tongue occasionally worked over the flesh to sooth it. Your eyes stayed on one area, taking in every detail your orbs could pick up on before they scanned the painting, settling on the next area of interest. Taehyung could tell you especially liked the poppy field, as you focused on it the longest. 

“So beautiful,” Taehyung whispered unknowingly, lost in you. 

“It is,” you replied as you looked over at him, noticing his eyes were stuck on you, red flushing your cheeks immediately upon the realization resembling the red of the poppies. Taehyung’s lips spread into an affectionate smile as he lightly chuckled at your response. 

Moving to the next painting, you both stayed silent, however, you each would intentionally gently bump the other or lean into the other just slightly. By the time you made it through the museum, it was closing time and the sun was setting over the city. Exiting the museum, the ending of your time together was impending, making you both feel tense and dreadful. 

As you walked down the street, you were both silent, but it wasn’t a comfortable silence like before. The edgy atmosphere made you feel like bursting into tears. How could you just walk away from this man?

Suddenly, Taehyung stopped walking, you taking a few more steps before you stopped and turned around. Your eyebrows pulled together in confusion as you looked at him. Taehyung pulled the film camera out of its case as he huffed, looking around the city street, nervously avoiding your gaze. “Taehyung?”

With a “huh?” his eyes darted to you, his own orbs large and innocent, and for the first time that day, fearful. “Uh, can I take your photo?”

With a small smile, you nodded. “What should I do?” You asked nervously, tapping your hands against the tops of your thighs. Gesturing you to come closer to him, you followed his lead, taking a few steps until you were stood in front of him. His hands gripped your shoulders, the feeling strong and firm yet gentle and warm. Turning you around, he smiled at you before taking a few steps backwards as he lifted his camera to his face. 

“Ah!” He exclaimed enthusiastically. “Perfect.” You looked behind you to see he had positioned you so you were standing in front of the Musée Maillol, your heart clenching at the realization that he wanted to capture you with the place he met you at. You could hear Taehyung’s camera clicking as he photographed the scene. 

Looking at the museum, you realized in that moment how your meeting Taehyung had materialized through a series of unlikely events that aligned so unbelievably right that it felt like it had been written in the stars. Starting with the Bührle Collection having made its way to Paris for the first time ever, to opening the exact day you and Taehyung were both free to explore Paris alone, to both of you having an insatiable sweet tooth that drew you both to the dessert case at the exact same moment, all the way to you smacking him in the face with your ear bud. Lover Man by Billie Holiday was even playing when you first laid eyes on him. It all felt so destined. 

Turning back to Taehyung, you felt overwhelmed by the feelings that had just erupted in your heart. “Should I smile?” You asked tentatively, unsure of how to handle your own thoughts and emotions in that moment as you watched the stunning man. 

“Yes,” he lowered his camera to see you without the barrier, flashing you a stunning boxy grin. “I love your smile,” he said sweetly as he brought the camera back to his face. A shy expression of fondness overtook your face at his words, your lips spreading from cheek to cheek. “Ok, one, two, three!” He counted down as he captured the photo. “Beautiful!” He yelled happily, resembling an adorable little boy as he put his camera back into the case and you approached him. 

Watching him as he put his camera back, you wondered if this would be the last time you’d see him. As he met your gaze again, you could have swore he was thinking the same thing, his eyes expressing concern. “Do you believe in fate?” He asked you suddenly, his tongue poking out quickly, which you had discovered was a sign of deep thought and sometimes nervousness. 

Breathless, you smiled. “I do,” you whispered, tears forming in your orbs. 

Taehyung smiled beautifully, the expression spreading a warmth throughout your body. Reaching for your hand, he encased it in his own as he kept his eyes locked on yours. “Me too.” 

#taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung scenario #taehyung scenarios #taehyung imagine #taehyung imagines #taehyung fluff #bts #bts v #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts scenario #bts scenarios #bts fluff

[lousylark]

blue lace

(part 6. Read the previous part here, read the first part here. This is a bite-sized part because halfway through is where I decided to switch the story from being in past-tense to present-tense, so sorry about that lol. But the chapter is really long anyway so breaking it into two parts should be fine.)

- 

Spring 7th. Maurice’s Inn. Morning. 

When Klaus stepped outside that morning, the world seemed noticeably lighter. 

As he locked the door of his home behind him, he took a deep breath in through the nose. The air felt wet, though not in an unpleasant way; rather, it foretold the arrival of Spring — and not a moment too soon, seeing as a week had gone by since the dawn of the New Year. 

On his walk to town, he was surprised to find that most of the snow had melted overnight. Perhaps the farmers would finally be able to plant — he’d heard grumblings around town of a possible slow-down in the local economy thanks to spring’s late arrival. 

In fact, the weather was so nice that he didn’t even miss his heavier jacket. Since Minori had yet to return his winter coat, he’d been wearing a lighter jacket the past several days. Not, of course, that he minded too much. He had seen her wearing it two days ago while walking through town and hadn’t failed to notice the charming way she tucked her nose inside the collar to hide her face from the cold. 

Such were dangerous thoughts, however, and he pushed them away, deep into the crevices of his heart, as he stepped into the lobby of Maurice’s Inn. 

“Klaus!” Maurice greeted even before he had closed the door behind him. “What can I do for you, sir?”

Klaus tipped his hat. “I have a meeting with some of your guests, actually.” 

“Ah, I see.” Maurice leaned on the counter on his elbows. “Can I get you anything? A glass of water?”

He started to take off his coat. “No, I —“ And then he paused. He was a little thirsty. “Actually, yes, thank you, Maurice.” 

Maurice grinned. “Good man. I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared through a door behind the counter, which, Klaus assumed, led to his family’s personal living space. 

Klaus took his time in taking off his coat and hanging it on the rack. He took a deep breath in through the nose. The Inn smelled of fresh flowers and cinnamon, with a dash of chai and green tea. He looked to the welcome desk: a vase of fresh daisies sat atop the wooden counter. He wondered who had managed to find such lovely flowers amidst the recent winter weather. He had always wanted to try a flower-and-chai scented perfume. Maybe the Inn would be his inspiration.

A loud pair of feet clunked down the stairs. He looked up to find Melanie, the younger of Maurice’s two daughters, clad in a rain jacket and boots. 

Her eyes widened when she saw him. She froze on the stairwell, surprised. “Hi Mr. Shultz!”

He nodded at her. “Good morning, Melanie. How are you?”

Her grin could singlehandedly light up a theater — not unlike her father. 

“Great!” she chirped, practically flying down the rest of the stairs until she was at the bottom step. She draped herself over the railing — strangely lavishly for her next words: “I’m going to hunt for worms with Lutz.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Worms?”

She nodded. “It’s the perfect weather to find them — all muddy. You know?”

“Indeed,” he said, “but why worms?”

“Otmar said he’d teach us to fish when the river thawed,” she explained hastily. “But we gotta find bait, first.”

“Ah. You’d best get to it, then. I hear worms are easiest to find in the morning.”

Her eyebrows practically rose to her hairline. “Really? I didn’t know that!” 

She raced past him toward the door, swinging it open. A pleasantly warm breeze blew into the lobby. 

Before she left, she looked up at him, still grinning, and said, “Thanks, Mr. Shultz. I owe you one!”

The door slammed behind her. Though he chuckled at her youthful excitement, Klaus couldn’t help but wonder when we’d gotten so old that the youngsters of the town had started calling him ‘Mr. Shultz” rather than Klaus. It was a thought he wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to ponder.

Thankfully, Maurice came back with a glass of water, providing him with a distraction.

“Here you go, Klaus,” he said, and Klaus approached to grab the water. “Sorry it’s a mug, not a glass. I haven’t had time to do the dishes the past few days.”

“Not a problem, Maurice,” he replied, raising the glass to his lips. “I’m less likely to spill with the handle, anyway.” 

Maurice’s eyes sparkled. “You’re always findin’ that silver lining, aren’t you? Well, I’ll leave you to your meeting.” As Klaus started toward the staircase, he added, “Just yell if you need anything, alright?”

“Will do, Maurice,” he said. “Thank you.” 

Raeger’s Restaurant. Morning. 

After finishing her morning chores, Minori found herself once again sitting at the counter of Raeger’s restaurant. Her sketchbook was open to a blank page — well, blank, minus the drop of coffee she’d accidentally spilled in the corner. 

She groaned, throwing her head against the book. 

“Still stumped about White Day?” Raeger asked. He stood behind the counter, cleaning out a coffee pitcher with a wet dish towel.

“Yeah,” she said, but the sound was muffled by her sketchbook. “It’s like my mind is…totally blank. I have no idea how to throw a White Day festival without it seeming overly cheesy, and I don’t want it to be focused solely on romance. It has to attract families, too.”

Raeger scoffed. “Come on, you don’t usually admit defeat so easily. You’ve gotta have something up your sleeve.” 

She finally lifted her head from the counter, leaning it on one hand. “Literally all I’ve got is “Under the Sea” and “White and Black” — you know, ‘cause it’s White Day?”

Raeger looked at her strangely — and then smiled lop-sidedly. 

“Yeah, those really are kinda weak,” he jibed.

She picked her sketchbook up off the counter and whacked him with it. He only laughed in response. 

“You’re so unhelpful,” she grumbled.

“Hey, come on, Nor,” he said, hopping up to sit on the counter next to her. “You’re usually full of ideas. What’s so different about this?”

She sighed. “I don’t know…”

“I don’t know,” he parroted — in a rather terrible impression of her voice, she thought. “It’s that crazy French lady that’s staying with Elise, isn’t it?”

She pouted. “No!” A pause. “Okay, maybe.” She threw her head against the sketchbook again. “I don’t know.” 

Raeger put a hand on her shoulder. She lifted her head. For a moment, looking into his sweet, puppy-dog eyes, she realized it wasn’t any wonder Lillie was so terribly besotted with him.

“You’ve never let someone get in your way before, Nor,” he said, his tone significantly gentler. “Not your stubborn cows, or Giorgio, or even Elise. Why is Madame Dupont any different?”

She sighed, averting her gaze. “I don’t know.”

The door to the restaurant opened. Otmar hobbled in. He looked particularly put-together today, with a bright blue rain jacket and big brown boots. 

“Hiya, kids,” he said through whistling dentures. 

“Hey, Otmar,” Minori said — but she couldn’t keep the wistfulness out of her voice.

He tottered over to the counter, using his cane to propel himself onto one of the bar stools. “Why, what’s with the long face? Youngsters like you shouldn’t have any reason to look so sad.” 

Minori managed a half-smile. “I have to throw together a brand new festival by the end of the day, or else our Business Mentor is gonna roast me over an open fire.” 

He titled his head to one side like a Beagle asking for a treat. “You mean that slim lady with the high heels? And the…the hair?”

Minori nodded. “That’s the one.”

He whistled. “Her eyes are so icy I almost slipped and fell on my bum watchin’ her walk through town.”

Minori burst out laughing at that — she couldn’t help it.

Raeger hopped off the counter. “Hey, good work Otmar. That’s the first time she’s laughed this morning.”

“Always willing to help a friend in need,” Otmar said, flashing a toothy smile. “If anyone wants to help this friend in need, I can’t remember where I put my vitamins.”

“Did you check the drawer under the cash register?” Minori asked. “They were there last time.”

Otmar’s eyes lit up. “By golly, they were, weren’t they!”

She nodded — she didn’t know why, but her eyes had suddenly filled with tears. “U-Uh huh.”

Otmar somehow seemed to understand. He took a handkerchief out of his back pocket and handed it to her. It looked slightly used, but she didn’t really mind in the moment. Raeger kindly turned back to his dish washing as the first tear rolled down her cheek.

“Now don’t you let that scary woman get to you, little lady,” Otmar said over the sound of her nose-blowing. “You’re a right bit stronger than her, y’see? Now what’s this festival you have ta plan?”

“It’s for White Day,” she explained — or rather, hiccuped. She had a nasty habit of crying when she was even just a bit frustrated. “We have to come up with…some sort of celebration that’ll make money.”

Otmar’s eyes lit up. “White Day? Well why didn’t ya say so!”

Raeger paused in his dishwashing. Minori, too, put the handkerchief down.

“What?” 

“Back in my youth,” Otmar explained, “this town’d have an annual White Day lunch auction.”

“A lunch auction?” Minori repeated.

He nodded. “A lunch auction.” 

She thought he was going to say more, but he simply stared at the far wall, eyes full of nostalgia.

Raeger took over. “Uh, Otmar?” he asked gently. “What’s a lunch auction?”

Otmar shook his head. “What? What was that? Munch oxen?”

“A lunch auction,” Minori clarified. 

“I haven’t been to a lunch auction in years!” he cried. His eyes glimmered with excitement. “A lunch auction is when all the little ladies anonymously make a lunch — but really they put ‘em in a pretty bag or tie ‘em up real special so their beaus know which lunch is theirs. And then they auction off the lunches. Whichever little lad is willing to pay the most gets to eat lunch with the lady who made it!”

Minori raised an eyebrow. “So it’s like…auctioning off a date?”

“You betcha,” he said, nodding. “It died down over the years ‘cause payin’ for a lady’s time became more…frowned upon, ya see.” He paused, clicking his teeth together. “But I bet’cha could tweak it and make it socially acceptable for the maidens and their misters here in town.”

The gears started turning in her mind. There were a lot of eligible bachelors and bachelorettes in town — and famous ones for that matter, like Elise and Raeger, whose participation would certainly draw a crowd, even from Norchester. And not only that, but the preparation on the board’s end would be minimal: all they had to do was arrange somewhere for the event to take place (the Trade Depot), find an auctioneer (Mistel would be perfect!), and advertise with flyers or a radio program (which Kassie had already offered to do as soon as she had the idea). Check, check, and —

“Minori?” Raeger asked, nudging her. “You alright?”

She grabbed her sketchbook and a pen. “Otmar, can you tell me more about this lunch auction? What kind of space did you use? What were the decorations like? The auctioning process? The entry guidelines?”

Otmar blinked. Raeger only laughed. 

Maurice’s Inn — Licorice’s Room. Mid-morning. 

Klaus waited patiently as Licorice and Kamil glanced over the journal. 

They had been sitting there for several minutes, both quietly reading the pages he’d marked that covered what he believed to be the flower he was looking for, Mundavi Meum. He was getting nervous — his knee bounced, his eye twitched. He focused on another of Marian’s anti-dissociating tricks: name a food that starts with every letter of the alphabet. 

Apple, Banana, Clementine. That was easy enough. 

They kept reading. He put a hand on his knee to keep it from bouncing. 

…Gourd, Honey…Jasmine? Did herbs count as food?

He glanced up. Both were still reading. Licorice smelled like daisies. He wondered if she’d been the one to put the vase of daisies on the counter downstairs. 

…Milk. Which made him think of cows, which made him think of a farm, which made him think of — 

Kamil hummed, pulling Klaus out of his mental whirlwind.

“Sorry, Klaus,” he said, sinking back into his chair with a resigned sigh. “I’ve never heard of this flower before.”

He felt his heart skip a beat in his chest, and then it sank deep to his stomach. So that was it, then.

Licorice, however, kept her eyes on the page. “I have,” she said, her voice soft even in the quiet room.

Klaus almost dropped his mug of water, the one Maurice had given him. As a precaution, he set it down on the floor before asking, “You have?” He really hadn’t been expecting this.

Licorice nodded. “Do you have a piece of paper? Something to write on?”

He fumbled with the button on the pocket of his sports coat, but managed to produce a receipt from Raeger’s restaurant and a pen. He handed them to Licorice.

She scratched a few notes on the piece of paper. The silence made his chest ache.

Finally, she said, “You’re missing a word. The Latin name of the flower is Mundavi Cor Meum — ‘Separate From My Heart’ is the literal translation.” She paused to return the receipt and the pen. “But it’s much more commonly referred to as ‘Blue Lace.’”

Klaus raised an eyebrow. He didn’t even glance at the paper — he was too fixated on every word she said. “Blue Lace?” 

She nodded. “The name is based on its appearance. The petals are extremely delicate, and it’s rare for a flower to be royal blue.” 

“Blue Lace,” he breathed. The name was like a benediction. “Incredible.”

Licorice nodded — but her eyes remained guarded. “It’s a wonder of nature, but I…I’m afraid I’ve never seen the flower in person, Klaus. It’s incredibly difficult to grow, as you’ll see from the instructions I wrote for you, and thus exceedingly rare. It also wilts exceptionally soon after harvesting.”

“But it exists,” he said. “Yes?”

She took a deep breath and held it, contemplating the answer. Then, her chest deflated, and she replied, “Yes. Technically. In very rare circumstances, and not often in the wild. It must be cultivated and cared for with the gentlest of hands.” She glanced at Kamil. “I’m not even sure either of us have the skill to plant it, let alone see it to harvest.”

“No matter,” he said, waving a hand. “I have faith.”

“Faith won’t water your flowers, Klaus,” Kamil pointed out, albeit gently. “If Licorice doesn’t think she can plant it, it’s a real long shot.” 

Licorice’s cheeks turned pink at the subtle compliment. Nonetheless, she said, “Kamil’s right. It would be really, really difficult —“

“But what of its healing properties?” Klaus asked. He felt only a little guilty for so blatantly interrupting her. “Surely the turnout is worth the risk?”

Licorice tilted her head to one side. “Healing properties?”

Klaus stood from his chair. He was too restless; he needed to move. 

“Mundavi — Blue Lace,” he corrected himself, pacing the room, “is known only in legend to chemists of my line of work. The scent of the flower is said to have…unimaginable healing properties,” he explained. “If I could harvest the flower and concoct a perfume from its aroma, I could —“ 

He stopped himself. Swallowed. Reeled himself back in.

“I could do a lot of good,” he finished. He looked back and forth between Licorice and Kamil. “You truly know nothing of the legend?”

Licorice shook her head. Kamil, too, looked at a loss. 

Klaus collapsed back into his chair. He pinched his nose between two fingers.

“Very well,” he said, his voice soft. “We’ll start with this: do you know where I could find the seeds to grow this flower?” 

Licorice shook her head. “That’s a question for Kamil, not me. I don’t have contacts like that.” 

Klaus, thus, looked to Kamil. With his sweater vest and newsies cap, he reminded Klaus a little of his younger self. He hoped for Kamil’s sake, however, that this was not the case. 

“I can see what I can do,” Kamil said. “But it might take days, even weeks, if I find anyone at all.”

Klaus nodded. “I understand. It’s taken me years to get even to this point.”

Licorice’s eyes widened. “Y-Years?”

“Years,” he affirmed. 

He supposed that was the moment when the gravity of his search finally sunk in for Kamil and Licorice: their eyes darkened with sadness, though both looked at him with a new degree of understanding. Klaus wondered, briefly, if they were related, or even just a couple: their mannerisms were unorthodoxly similar. He sometimes saw Lillie and Raeger do the same thing. Perhaps it was the result of being friends since childhood. 

“I’ll find the seeds for you, Klaus,” Kamil said, his voice low with sincerity. “I promise.”

Klaus chuckled dryly. 

“When you get to be my age, you won’t believe in promises anymore,” he said, a hint of bitterness to his tone. His gaze softened, however. “But I do appreciate the sentiment.” He tucked Licorice’s notes into his journal to look at later. “Thank you, both of you, for your help. You have no idea what it means to me.”

Elise’s Manor. Lunch. 

Nadi was oddly muscular for a landscaper.

Seeing as the weather had finally warmed up, Elise had decided to do some work on the porch instead of in her office. Occupying her favorite porch-swing — the one with the pink floral seat cushion — she had spent the majority of the morning balancing accounts and writing letters to her contacts in Norchester. Nadi had emerged from the mansion some ten minutes ago, claiming he was going to check the soil acidity and moisture now that the snow had melted. 

She hadn’t been able to focus since then. Every time she tried to start a task, her gaze would be pulled back out to the field. She didn’t usually pay attention to Nadi’s work, but she found herself suddenly engaged by the way he would get on his hands and knees and stick his hands straight into the mud. Then, he would pull his hands out and wipe them on his shirt before writing some notes down on a nearby sheet of paper. 

All the while, the fresh Spring sun shone down on his white hair. Today it was pulled back in an unruly ponytail; the strands that still clung to the base of his neck stood out like branches of birchwood against his dark skin. 

And then there were the muscles. He donned a simple cream working tunic that tied with elastic around the waist. When he leaned over to check the soil, she could see the muscles in his back and shoulders through the thin material. She’d never noticed them before.

“Elise.”

She snapped her gaze away from Nadi. Madame stood in the front doorway some feet away. 

Since the incident in the parlor, they had managed…cordiality. Nothing more, nothing less. Elise had not forgotten her resentment, and her knuckles were still bruised, but for now, she was biding her time until she could unravel whatever horrendous scheme Madame had in mind. Until then, she would wait patiently to strike. 

“Bonjour Madame,” she said, shifting the papers in her lap so she could cross her legs in the porch swing. “Ça va?” 

Madame moved from the doorway toward a chair opposite Elise. “Today is the third day since the meeting, and our Agricultural Representative has yet to present any ideas for a possible White Day festival.”

As Madame sat down, Elise let out a sigh. “Her name is Minori, Madame.” 

“Minor details, p’tite,” she said, crossing her legs and looking out to the field. “Without a festival, we risk —“ 

She abruptly cut off. Elise tried to follow her gaze — she was staring at Nadi.

“Is something the matter, Madame?” she asked. 

Madame scowled. “I’ve never seen any Prince of Silk Country playing in the dirt.”

Elise moved her hand delicately to her collarbone in a show of surprise. “Why, Madame! He has kindly asked to help my servants with landscaping this Spring. ’Tis not unheard of for the nobility to take up such hobbies.”

“I suppose you’re right. Did he bring that shirt with him?” Madame asked. “It would be terribly unflattering on anyone else, but it fits him well.” She crossed her arms. “A pity he’s from Silk Country, or I would dare say he’s a rather handsome young man.” 

Fire smoldered in Elise’s belly. “Madame,” she hissed. “C’est impoli. Il est un prince!” She hesitated, then added, “And more so, he is a person. You should not say such things.”

Madame barked out a laugh. “Oh, Elise. T’es un enfant.”

Elise’s shook her head. “Skin color holds no weight in contests for beauty,” she argued, echoing her mother’s words from when she was young — but the next words were her own: “But how one perceives race does aid in assessing one’s capacity for hatred.”

Madame, however, seemed unperturbed by the insult. “Please, ma petite. You cannot tell me truly that you find our Prince Nadi becoming.” 

Elise chewed on the inside of her cheek, remembering the way the sun lit up Nadi’s hair; the way his lips pursed when he was thinking hard; the muscles of his back when he got on his knees to check the soil — 

A long pause. Madame’s lips curled into an eerie smile. 

“Of course I do not,” Elise said quickly, attempting to deter her. “He is my guest — not eye candy.”

Madame leaned back into her chair with a satisfied sigh. “You see? ’Tis simply the way of things.”

Elise had at least seven cutting responses on the tip of her tongue, but they were interrupted by the front door opening.

Jenny, her servant, poked her head out onto the porch. “Excuse me, mistress. Would you care for some tea or cookies?” 

Elise sighed. She supposed this was as good a distraction from the direction of their conversation as any. Jenny, as always, had good timing. Perhaps she should consider giving her a raise. 

“Yes, Jenny. Thank you.”

“Hold the cookies,” Madame ordered, not even looking at Jenny.

Jenny glanced at Elise for approval. Elise sighed. 

“No cookies,” she affirmed, trying desperately to suppress the blush crawling up to her cheeks. 

Jenny nodded, and then disappeared back into the house. 

“There, now,” Madame hummed once she was gone. “N’ayez pas peur. We will restore your figure within the season, p’tite.” 

Elise didn’t respond. She returned her focus to the balance sheets in her lap, ignoring the shame boiling in the pit of her stomach. She would not let Madame hold this over her — not again, not after the years she’d spent undoing her curse. 

Madame didn’t seem to be done with her yet, however. “I asked Cook if we might have broiled fish and asparagus for dinner this evening.” She crossed her legs as if her next words were just an observation of the weather. “I suppose I could ask him to add a dollop of butter to the cod, if you’ll really feel remiss without it.”

Elise snapped. 

“Actually, I won’t be joining you for dinner this evening,” she said, gathering her papers and standing from the porch swing. “I have a social commitment I must attend.”

Madame raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? What social commitments could you possibly have in this tiny town?”

“A ladies’ gathering,” she replied, “with some of my dear friends. Once a season we meet to drink wine and eat cheese and —“ she took a tiny pause. What did girls her age talk about? “— discuss our favorite fashions, and such.” 

Madame peered at her suspiciously. “I was under the impression you didn’t waste your time on such frivolous matters, p’tite.” 

“Time spent schmoozing is never time wasted, Madame,” she countered. “Or wasn’t that what you always taught me?” She set her papers down on a little table nearby and started toward the porch steps.

Madame shook her head, smiling pointedly. “Only when the schmoozing actually benefits your political stance.”

Elise whirled around. “You have much to learn about Oak Tree Town politics, Madame. The girls I’ll be courting tonight carry a great deal of respect in this town.” She smiled thinly. “Perhaps you’d like to come? Iris is quite the fiction writer. You could commission her to whip up a little story to save your fashion enterprise. Imagine the headline: ‘Racist, Cold-Hearted Designer Nurses Small Town to Health.’” A pause so that she could bark a laugh. “Actually, I’m not even sure Iris’s skills could help you there.” 

Madame’s mouth popped open. Elise was fairly sure that if she hadn’t been standing several feet, safely away, she would have gotten slapped. 

But instead of an angry reprimanding, Madame just leaned back in her chair, her gaze sliding out to look where Nadi worked in the field. 

“Perhaps I’ll call your father while you’re at this gathering,” Madame commented too-nonchalantly. “He and I have a great deal to talk about.”

Elise smiled with no mirth. “Do give him my warmest regards.”

And then she flounced into the house, teeth gritted and ready to stuff a hundred cookies down her throat out of spite. 

#blue lace #part 5 #please reblog/leave a comment if u enjoy! <3 #klaus #minori #annie #elise #nadi #story of seasons #lousylarksings

[cupidmarwani-archive]

It’s Not Too Late (Barisi)

Summary: Rafael wants to believe that it’s not too late for Sonny.

Warnings: fire, death mention, murder mention

A/N: this is kinda AU? It has canon elements woven in. Suffice to say Sonny has some superpowers that he uses in a not so super way

WC: 2260

The man standing in front of Rafael is not the same one he used to know. Sure there are some familiarities, like the ungelled mess of blonde hair and the blue eyes inset with smile lines. Thin fingered pianist’s hands that move too quickly do the same thing now that they always have despite the fact that what they cause is nowhere near the same that it used to be. No stiff suit pressed flat with a matching tie and a neat coat, badge and gun on hip either. He’s dressed in heather sweatpants and a ratty well-loved maroon hoodie with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, barefoot on the concrete ledge. Soot stains his face and clothes like smears of pencil from a poor erase job. The skyline burns in the distance, reflecting back on his face in shades of orange and yellow from the mess that creeps out from the epicenter on the terrace of crumbling rocks and overgrown plants. Plants that haven’t been pruned in a month, maybe more, but still flourished under the rainy weather that the city is really missing now that the sky has dried up and has no relief to offer for the fire, destruction, utter chaos that has overrun the once bustling site.

Downstairs, outside the building, hostage negotiators stand with a fall pad at the ready in case someone falls, is pushed, or jumps. Not that either of the men up here would do any of those things. Rafael is lucky that he was allowed up here, because he knows that anyone else or a practiced phone call would have just angered the man standing and staring at what he’s done with nothing on his blank face. Apathy makes him even less the one Rafael used to know. Not too long ago, but what feels like an eternity, he had been one of the most empathetic people Rafael ever knew. He was sweet, innocent, perhaps even a bit naive. The kind of man who smiled wherever he went and brought food for his coworkers every Wednesday and tucked a blanket around Rafael when he fell asleep on the couch. He was a good man. Deep down, he still has to be. That all doesn’t just vanish, and there’s no way it was an act this entire time.

“Low of them to send you to execute me.”

“They don’t want you dead, Sonny. In fact, they’re a little scared you’re going to jump.”

Sonny tilts his head to the side in a gesture reminiscent of a golden retriever. Before all of this, he had said that he wanted one. He’s always been a dog person, had begged and said he would take care of her (it’ll be a her, Raf, I just know it), only to spend a week sulking over the reality that they just weren’t home enough to take care of a dog and give it the love and care it needs. Both worked late, sometimes unpredictable hours. There was a running joke that Sonny is basically a puppy anyways, excitable energy and doe eyes.

“Right, I forgot. They can’t experiment on me if I’m dead.”

He spits the word experiment out like it’s a vile thing tasting bitter in his mouth like the coffee he never liked. Rafael drinks too much of it and always has. Sometimes, Sonny complained about it. He said that subsequent kisses tasted too much like it. It’s been too long since Rafael has heard that gripe against his shoulder on the early morning of a rare day off. He misses those mornings, the easy ones where everything was okay, even if it was just for a little while. Asking for a kiss now is crass at best, dangerous at worst, but the temptation is there in full force. One more taste of the kisses that used to make getting out of bed in the morning worth it seem to be a fair trade for that of his life, which is practically over anyway. He was the catalyst that started the whole spiral, saying that he needed time apart because he had made such an irreparable mistake in that hospital room, acquitted or not.

“So who’s down there for me? FBI? ESU? NYPD? Who do I dedicate my suicide to?”

Deadpan humor sounds wrong in the Staten accent that Rafael has come to associate with home. While Sonny’s sense of humor has always been dry and sarcastic, it’s never been outright morbid or delivered in such a flat voice. The only way to tell he’s not serious is the step he takes away from the ledge. He doesn’t really want to die, not here, not now. All he wants is to fix the world. If he’s dead, he can’t watch it become okay. But still, he’d rather die than become a human guinea pig, Rafael knows that. It’s a discussion they had the night he learned about what Sonny is capable of.

The memory is so vivid. Sonny’s bare hand open in between the two of them, flames licking up and down his skin like something alive. No explanation between the two of them, but a childish grin on Sonny’s face at showing something he could never tell anyone but had always been proud of. They roasted marshmallows over it at his insistence, turning them to a goopy mess with a crunching brown shell that tasted like heaven in a s’more (it’s blasphemy you’ve never had one, Raf, really) or five. For forever, they sat there and played with it, cooking things and warming Rafael’s cold hands over it because winters in the city are brutal, especially at the turn of the year with the heating broken and the offices closed as scraps of Christmas were swept away to make room for frothy champagne. Back then, it had seemed like the craziest thing Rafael would ever experience.

“All three. Technically the FBI is in charge, but everyone else is on site to help.” Rafael takes a hesitant step closer to Sonny, but freezes at the animalistic expression it earns. Lips pulled back to expose angry, growling teeth. Feral, angry, damaged. “The squad are down there too. Liv, Amanda, Fin. Your family’s waiting at the police tape begging them not to hurt you.”

“If I wasn’t useful, they’d put me down like a dog.”

He hesitates because he promised once upon a time that he would never lie. “We can still walk away from this. Just take my hand, and we’ll walk downstairs together.”

His words must be the wrong ones, because Sonny turns away and pulls his sleeves down, letting the edges come over his hands. He purposefully bought the hoodie too big because it’s comfortable, he had explained, and then spent an entire movie marathon tucked up against Rafael’s side chewing on the sleeve. When upset, or anxious, he had a tendency to do that. But only in the one hoodie, too conscious of ruining his nice clothes. That must be why he’s wearing it now, because he needed the comfort and he didn’t want to damage his suits. As if he would ever be able to wear them after this. Rafael wants to reach for him and hold him, despite knowing that it would do more harm than good.

“What happened to you?”

“What happened to me? What happened to the world, Raf? It’s full of the kind of people who rape and murder and torture and abuse. Cartels and gangs and psychopaths. It’s a dirty place.” His eyes are a little crazed when he turns back to Rafael and comes so close that he can smell the traces of ash and sweat and faint detergent off of him. “I’m cleaning it up. It’ll be a fresh start, like Noah’s arc when God wiped the Earth clean of sin, right? I- I want- it’s not too late. We can start over together.”

The hand he holds out has dirt gathering in the creases from climbing the decrepit building that had once been beautiful and settling himself on the rooftop terrace, surrounded by the little remaining life. In the distance, if he listens hard, Rafael can hear a child crying. Young, maybe six or seven. Over and over, sobbing ‘Mommy’ and screaming for help. Must be from the apartment building next door, with smoke just beginning to pour out of the windows from what can only be Sonny’s handiwork. The people on the ground so dizzyingly far away have to see it, help that little kid whose voice grows weaker by the second. They don’t sound like they’ll survive very long unaided, a fact that reminds Rafael of the body toll he’s facing right now at Sonny’s hand.

Anger speaks before his brain does. “Do you think you’re some sort of God? You’re a murderer.”

Shock, then horror, then fury pass over Sonny’s face in a matter of seconds. He yanks his hand away from Rafael. Too upset now to argue, but undoubtedly not considering any good options anymore. “Rich, coming from you. What about Drew? The baby you killed? One murderer to another, Raf, don’t play the holier-than-thou card on me.”

“That was different. Don’t compare that to what you did.”

He remembers what it was like in that hospital room. If Sonny had been there, if he had seen. The flowers and the music and the weeping mother and the awful shudder-hitch of the machine that breathed for a baby that was brain dead from the moment it came into the world. That’s not something that can be understood without being there. But for Sonny to compare that to mindless slaughter of innocent people on the streets is unthinkable and makes Rafael even angrier. The man that he loved would never do this. Would never watch people die and have the corner of his mouth twist up in that infuriating smirk that used to be reserved for when he would correct Rafael something minute. A little smug, a little proud. They aren’t the same man anymore but some small part of him wants to believe that the Sonny he knew is still hiding behind the heaving ribcage and frigid words.

One small step forward that has Sonny taking one back. With the plants a cushion around him, he looks like a work of art. Despite it all, he’s still beautiful. Carved out of marble and ice and gifted with diamond inlays, he looks like someone who belongs in a museum. Rafael’s fascinated by the fire that slowly begins to glow from Sonny’s hands that curve like wicked claws now in their desire to produce a white hot burn that Rafael can feel caressing his face even at such a distance. An old animalistic desire to touch makes him almost reach forward before he stops himself. Cuts that away, just like the emotions that he realizes have taken control of him. Maybe that was part of Sonny’s plan the whole time. He’s here to talk Sonny down, not get into a spat that they should have settled when they stopped talking only a few short weeks ago.

“Sonny.” No reaction. “Sweetheart.” Bright eyes snap to his, seemingly pure white in the reflection of the fire in his hands that cuts through the warm colors the burning city has painted them. Despite the fact that it’s midday, the sky has gone an ugly orange-brown-black from the smoke. “I know you’re still in there.”

“This is who I am.”

“It isn’t.”

This time, Sonny lets him come closer. Progress. Every little bit is something, especially when he’s fairly certain the authorities are coming closer and within minutes, will have reached the stairs up to the roof. They don’t trust him, not with his past and Sonny’s, but they were willing to give him leeway. Only so much, however. He knows they don’t have enough time, but he might be able to keep Sonny from resisting arrest. That way it’ll be easier for all of them. Rafael wants to touch, feel like he hasn’t in a very long time. Run his fingers through Sonny’s soft hair. Feel the smooth skin over his cheekbone. Hold him and never let go. Fantasies, dreams, little more than memories of what he used to do when Sonny was upset (you’re too good to me, Raf). Bad days used to be close calls on the job and blood speckling on temples, not standing so close to toppling off the roof.

“You’re not the monster you’ve tried to make yourself.”

He wraps his hands around Sonny’s wrists and holds them like he’s holding together a man built from scrap metal and a lot of hurt. Now that he can see Sonny up close, he sees that the only thing keeping Sonny in one place is anger because it’s all that’s stronger than pain. Rafael only has to look into his eyes and it’s over. He nearly loses his footing from the force with which Sonny falls into his arms, crying. Crying hard. The kind that has gut-wrenching sobs and makes him shake and shiver. A child, Rafael thinks. Sonny cries like a child, the one in the apartment building next door that has gone silent, now that he thinks about it. He shushes the broken man and tells him it’ll be just fine. It won’t, but he finds comfort in saying it anyways. Repetition made lullaby until police arrive and drag Sonny away in cuffs.

“Rafael, don’t let them take me!”

“You’ll be okay,” Rafael says.

But he isn’t so sure.

#barisi #rafael barba #sonny carisi #rafael barba x sonny carisi #mine #fic #angst

[central-city-meta-pocalypse]

Christmas to Remember - (HR Wells x reader)

A/N: And the ‘nice’ prompt! I miss our beautiful Christmas puppy that is HR Wells and had to write something tooth-achingly sweet for him :D

Warning: Pure, unadulterated Fluff :P

*Gif not mine, all credit to the creator*

For @darlingpetao3 - Merry Christmas, lovely :D

You woke up on the morning of Christmas Eve with no alarm clock blaring, just rising on your own, whenever you felt like it. And there was no other word for it other than heaven.

Team Flash had agreed that everyone deserved a break over the festive period to relax and recuperate so that you were all fighting fit to take on more metas in the New Year. An idea that you were very much on board with.

You and your boyfriend, one HR Wells, didn’t get a lot of alone time when day to day meta-fighting-business was going on, so you were looking forward to being able to spend some quality time with just him and you over the break.

Still with your eyes closed, you rolled over in bed, expecting to be able to cuddle up to HR, but instead found nothing but vacant space on his side of the bed.

Your eyes flew open as you felt the cold sheets and, frowning slightly, you pulled back the covers, grabbing one of HR’s jumpers off of the chair and throwing it on over your pyjama top as you went in search of him.

“HR?” you called as you walked through your apartment, heading for the kitchen as that was the most likely place to find him at this time in the morning. And as predicted, as you rounded the corner you spotted him in his red and white Christmas jumper getting things out of several cupboards.

“Ah! (Y/N), you’re awake!” HR grinned over his shoulder as he heard you enter the room, busily going about making coffee in two mugs.

“As are you,” you said, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his middle, nuzzling your nose in between his shoulder blades, “I wanted to cuddle.”

“But the day’s begun and we have so much to do!” he replied eagerly, rubbing his hand over yours where they were entwined around him.

“HR, what are you talking about? We’ve finally got time off!” you countered, letting him go and leaning against the counter next to him.

“My Christmas plan, of course!” he exclaimed like it was the most obvious thing in the world, causing you to giggle at his enthusiasm.

“And what exactly would that be?” you enquired with a raise of your eyebrow.

“Ah, that would be telling,” HR said with a secretive smile before passing you one of the mugs of fresh coffee. “For you, my lady,” he said with a small bow making you smile even wider.

“So I just have to trust you?” you said, taking a small sip of the delicious drink. He always knew exactly how you liked it.

His head bobbed excitedly and you nodded back in understanding, smiling in resignation that you weren’t going to get anything more out of him.

“Okay, I’ll go and get ready then,” you said, taking your mug and heading back to your bedroom to shower and dress for the day.

“Wear something warm!” he called out to you as you padded away and you grinned, wondering what exactly he could possibly have in store for you.

It turned out that it would have been easier to wonder what you wouldn’t be doing.

As soon as you were ready, wrapped up in your coat, hat and scarf, HR whisked you out of your apartment with boundless enthusiasm. He intertwined his fingers with yours as you walked towards the centre of the city, making festive-related jokes to make you laugh the entire way to your destination.

“First stop, ice rink!” He grinned at you as you took in the sight before you. The main square in the city had been turned into a highly decorated skating rink for the season, filled with dozens of people having fun out on the ice.

“HR, this is amazing!” you said, giving him a hug before pulling him towards the giant Christmas tree at the entrance so that you could get started.

It turned out that, unsurprisingly, HR was an incredible skater, showing you spins and tricks to try and impress you while also helping you around the rink.

While you weren’t completely helpless on the ice, you also weren’t as skilled as HR so he played the perfect gentleman, holding onto your hand with one of his and wrapped the other around your waist to lead you around.

But that still didn’t stop you from stumbling and pulling him over with you onto the cold surface where, after you got over the shock, you both started laughing uncontrollably as he lovingly kissed your forehead.

After you spent the morning messing around on the ice, the pair of you headed to the shops to buy some last minute things for Christmas day, including a lot of baking ingredients, the purpose of which HR refused to tell you until you got home.

“Okay, you’ve kept it from me long enough. What’s next on your little agenda, Mr Wells?” you asked as you unlocked your door to let the both of you back into the warm space of your apartment.

He gave you a knowing smile as he carried the shopping bags through into the kitchen with you following behind him. You took off your coat and shoes and went to join him behind the counter to help put everything away.

“Well, I thought we should make some gingerbread together,” he said, eyes wide with excitement, “It’s not Christmas without that smell of home baking wafting through the air, don’t you think?”

You smiled at him as you pressed a kiss to his cheek causing him to grin goofily back at you. You didn’t think you’d ever get over how much one man could make you smile in the course of one day.

“I couldn’t agree more,” you said brightly, unpacking the ingredients from the bags and laying them out on the counter, along with one of your recipe books so that you find a recipe and could begin.

While he weighed out the correct amounts of flour, sugar and various spices, HR told you about Christmas back on Earth-19 and a few of the weirder traditions that you had you laughing so much that tears were rolling down your cheeks. But when it came to actually mixing everything, you managed to compose yourself enough to do it, while HR made more hot drinks for you.

As you were rolling out the dough and cutting out gingerbread men and candy cane shapes, HR came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and started planting soft kisses on your neck as you worked.

“HR… these aren’t going to make themselves and you are… mmm… not helping…” you chastised without any force behind it, as you were won over by his talented mouth.

“I can’t help it, mon Cherie, you look so sweet yourself,” he grinned against your neck, before placing a chaste kiss to your cheek and coming to stand beside you in order to lend a hand with the cookie cutting.

You ended up filling nearly three trays and joked that you’d still be eating gingerbread in February, which HR didn’t seem to have much of problem with.

And while they were baking in the oven, HR took your hand in his and twirled you into his chest, chuckling at the way you looked slightly taken aback at the sudden change in position. But when you realised what he was doing, you rested your hand on his arm as his held your waist and allowed him to spin you around the kitchen.

You both laughed as you danced, carefree for once in your chaotic lives, sharing several long, romantic kisses before being brought back to reality by the beeping oven timer.

As you left the biscuits to cool, you pondered over what else your excitable boyfriend could possibly squeeze into this incredible day. But you found out when you moved into the living room which HR had made into a cosy little sanctuary with blankets and a fire lit in the grate.

“And the grand finale,” HR said dramatically as he stood in front of the roaring fire, a copy of the film ‘White Christmas’ clutched in his hands, large, puppy-dog eyes staring back at you.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you asked, seriously wondering how you’d gotten so lucky as to be with a man like HR. He just shot you one of his most charming grins and began to set up the film on your TV while you prepared some snacks

You grabbed a selection of the cookies that you’d just baked and other sweet treats that HR had purchased while you were out. You finished off your spread with two mugs of eggnog as HR came and sat next to you on the sofa, draping his arm around your shoulders when the film began to play.

The pair of you sang all of the songs in the film together whilst you roasted marshmallows over the top of candle flames and used your freshly baked cookies to make S’mores. Although that was if the marshmallows lasted long enough to actually be sandwiched in the biscuits…

After he’d held it over the fire for long enough, HR plucked one gooey one off of the skewer and held it out for you. “For you, my darling,” he said with a wink.

You grinned back, taking the sweet from him with your mouth and making sure to lick all the remnants from his thumb and forefinger before kissing his lips when he gave you a slightly darkened look.

The kiss deepened and turned a lot more passionate, with HR leaning over you as your hands explored every inch of his jumper-covered chest. Safe to say, you had to rewind the film a good fifteen minutes after your little make-out was over.

When you both settled down again, you cuddled against him, resting your head on his chest as one of his hands played with your hair and the other intertwined his fingers with yours.

“This has been the best Christmas Eve ever, HR, thank you,” you said softly as ‘The End’ appeared on the screen and the remaining credits began to roll.

“Thank you, for letting me do all of this,” he replied, placing a soft kiss into your hair. He blushed slightly as he admitted, “I’ve not had someone to celebrate like this with in a long while… I’m really glad I have you now.”

“Me too,” you replied softly, leaning over to grab yours and his mug from the table and passing it over to him.

“Merry Christmas, HR Wells,” you said, holding your mug up in a toast.

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N),” he agreed, tapping his drink against yours, “long may the merriment continue.”

“I’ll drink to that,” you replied, both taking a sip of your drinks before falling asleep on the sofa; utterly exhausted but happier than you’d been in years.

#hr x reader #hr wells #hr wells x reader #harrison wells #Harrison wells x reader #Tom Cavanagh #the flash fanfiction #the flash imagines #harrison wells imagines #christmas countdown

[captainband]

reynolds // stop, children! what’s that sound?

“You’re sure I can crash here?”

The question was a shallow one, seeing as though there were already bags on the hardwood of the New York apartment, but Paisley felt like she needed to ask anyways. The little apartment on the corner of 36th and 4th smelled like fresh roasted coffee, and she just about groaned from the smell she’d missed so much. Those dinky little Holiday Inns barely even gave her a properly cooked egg. “I mean, I’m not imposing —right?”

“How long are you planning on staying, again?”

The disfigured voice, coming somewhere from what Paisley was sure was the kitchen, only sounded slightly irritated. Although, that was pretty common for her younger cousin. A habit learned from her mother, who chose to showcase anger instead of drinking it away — like Paisley’s own mother. Her eyes searched for a night cap at the reminder of her mom, but she brushed the thought away when the younger blonde came out of the other room with her smile light and attitude just slightly breezy — like a nice spring day back home. With two mugs in her hand, piping hot and teetering on the edge of spilling, the older blonde was happy to help and take the mug she knew was hers. (It’s slightly cracked edges and faded paint didn’t mean a lot, but the hands that held it previously meant everything).

“Just until I can figure out what to do next.”

Ah. Freya suppressed a comment on just how long that would be, since she had a pretty good idea it would last more than a month (just like last time. In fact, if her counting skills were correct — cousin Paisley had stayed for a grand total of 3 months and 6 days.) “And what will that include?”

“Oh, you know — maybe I’ll follow Sledge. Did you know he’s putting together a band — as though the first one wasn’t enough?”

Her brows furrowed, lips just on the edge of the ceramic cup she had made a few weeks prior — Leo’s idea. “Who told you that?”

Paisley followed her action, raising her own mug up to the chapped lips, recovering from the cold New York wind. The coffee tasted better than anything she’d had in years, and it was easy to remember why’d she came back. “Remember the letter I sent you from New Mexico — the one about the bar fight?”

Freya took a good shot of her drink and nearly burned her throat in the process, but she raised an eyebrow for the elder to continue.

“Moody Blue’s guitarist was there, and he told me about it himself. He’s going to be in it.” One of her prouder moments, getting drinks with a man she only wished she could play with was somewhere near the top of the list. His nimble fingers and easy attitude were practically begging her to melt, but the stage barrier had kept her from doing so. Yet, when he locked eyes during one of his solos and she got access backstage later on— that just about did it. She had to pace herself, and what was a better mood breaker than some bar fight? Maybe not intentional, she considered it a solid from whatever God existed as some retribution for everything in the last few years.

“Why was he in New Mexico?”

“Beats me.” She scoffed. If she was being honest with her cousin, then there was barely a moment of the traveling that she remembered beyond the rush of adrenaline and the music. Maybe some of the people she met — but they weren’t supposed to matter in the long run. Places got jumbled in the haze and — “Oh, wait! Maybe that happened in California?”

Patience was a virtue and Freya was pretty sure the amount she exercised on her ‘older’ cousin would gratify her a spot past the golden gates of heaven. “Did Looking Glass even play in California?”

“They had to. I don’t know how I ended up there, otherwise.”

“And how’d you end up Oregon, then?”

That was a good question.

Past the various highways and old cars she found herself in, Paisley couldn’t remember her directions. She had to base her whole sense of direction off of which way people went for gold. They went West? That means California. So, Freya asking how she got from one place to another was practically asking a Penguin if they knew they were in a zoo exhibit. “I think that guy who I traveled with in Oklahoma offered it, so why not?” Like she said — sometimes she remembered the men.

“And you came back because of Elton…”

Paisley scoffed and gently rolled her eyes; just enough to seem playful without looking hurt. Although, there was a gentle pang in her chest. Did Freya think she was as self centered as her mother? “To see you!”

The look on Freya’s face was one of suspended belief.

“Maybe to see Elton, a little?”

Belief hit the ground with a heavy thud.

“Have you even been invited to this secret show?”

Freya had a general curiosity to all the ‘wonderous’ items Paisley got herself involved in. She’d almost think the other blonde was blind to the world around her, unless it was about music. As soon as something involved a beat, Paisley’s eyes opened in such a brilliant way and there was a sense of awe that overtook her every muscle. Secret shows just managed to unlock the extra bit of excitement for her love for something new and unknown. As though she needed to feel like she was in the middle of a problem.  

“Not yet…but I might know someone.” Paisley replied as she finished off the last her her drink. When she got up to put it away, her spare hand grabbed the mug that Freya held out.  Bare feet padded across hardwood into the kitchen, and there was a small clatter as the dishes hit the sink.

“Oh?” Freya replied when Pai’s head peaked out.

The rest of her figure appeared from behind the wood beam that separated the rooms, “Remember that one producer that flirted with me at Blair’s before I left?” As she reentered the room, there were two new steaming cups, Paisley’s tea strained clattering against the ceramic.

She vaguely remembered the man, with a swagger that could cut down entire armies if he wanted. She remembered wondering why he didn’t get enlisted, but then she saw the watch on his hand and figured it out. “The one with the good facial hair—thing?” While Freya wondered aloud, Pai plopped back down onto the worn couch.

“That’s the one!” She wasn’t sure if she took a long sip to build up some anticipation, or if there was some genuine thirst involved. Maybe it was both, but Paisley wasn’t sure how tea was going to help her now.  “He saw me cruising past some coffee house, had to follow me, I guess? We talked, he asked why I was back. I told him the show, because we don’t need to get super personal. And he said he might be able to snag a ticket or two.”

“And you’re okay going with him?”

“Of course. He can get me in, and I might get to brush elbows with Elton.”

His name dripped with excess — which caused Freya to wrinkle her nose. She couldn’t help herself when she rolled her eyes, it felt involuntary. “And what do you plan to do with that? Ask to be his drummer?”

“Maybe. You never know.” The shrug said everything, and Paisley didn’t even have to try. She needed another job — some sort of income — if she was going to get out of New York again.

“Why don’t you just come work with me?”

There was an involuntary jerk on her head as she almost gagged at the offer. And over her tea? Why would Freya say such a thing and nearly ruin the mood? “And sell out to some record company? No thanks.”

“It’s a job, Paisley. You’re not some indentured servant.”

“I’ll just take some jobs at Billy’s. He lets me drum how I like, not in 3/4 time with a Lennon-Wannabe trying to tell me that I’m off tempo.”

“That guy was a prick — get over it.”

“There are plenty more of them, trust me.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Freya would never really consider actually kicking her cousin out, but in moments like this, she was pretty close to it. Sometimes she couldn’t take how much Paisley thought she was the wiser of the two, just because she was more of a traveler. Traveling across a single country means just about two shits if she doesn’t get anything out of it. (Which Freya was pretty sure was the case).

“Oh, you know. You just won’t let them get to you because you’re so much better at pretending like you aren’t compromising your artistic integrity.”

“You’re a real prick, Pai.”

“Maybe so. I’m fine with that; I don’t let myself doubt that I’ve got more talent than the next Joe on the corner.” She practically downed another cup, and as she finished it off and a bit dribbled down her chin — it was Freya that went to wipe it off.

“You do, but you’ve got to use it somewhere.”

They shared a look for a second, and Freya’s gentle smile just about broke Paisley. But, she wasn’t going to surrender the first night, and there was still a lot to do for the evening.“I’m gonna head out for a drink, you wanna go?”

“Gotta start early tomorrow.” Freya waved the offer off as she staggered up from the couch. Sometimes she wondered if a new one would keep them not so near to the ground. “You go on out, just make sure to lock the door when you get back. The key’s in the bowl by the door.”

--

The danky lights in the bar down the street provided little guidance to the bar top on the at the other end of the room. While some doo-op song played from the jukebox in the corner, Paisley made sure she headed as far away from there as she could. Who knew what kind of song another tourist would pick for themselves; they all thought they were quite edgy, plopping a quarter through the slot and playing something as silly as Tom Jones. She thought they were just plain stupid. (In an attempt to give herself some chance of a good resting place, she tended to revise her thoughts and believe in the former).

Setting herself down at the end of the row, she met eyes with the older bartender. With crows practically nesting in the corners, and the sense of dismay that shone through — she didn’t know whether or not she wanted to talk. She had to order a drink at some point, but the option to ask him specifically proved to be daunting. Maybe she’d wait for her company to arrive. From the pictures he sent her over the last few years, he could handle the guy.

She could see the reflection of the door from all the glasses against the bar top, and the clock on the other wall showed that the second hand only hand to make five trips around before he showed up.

As her head whipped around and she got her first good look at Steve Rogers in two years, she almost fell backwards. Paisley had to grab ahold of the bar top just to get herself together. “Steve,” she clambered as his eyes found her finally. Her lips were ready to movie again when he spoke first.

“Good to see you too, Pai.”

He gave her that smirk that haunted her dreams for the last two years (as though she needed nightmare fuel in the middle of traveling — picturing him with that smirk as he laid dead in the wet greenery of Vietnam made sure she did). Yet, this time it was almost a relief, and she couldn’t help herself as she closed any space and gave him the tightest hug he’d ever gotten. As his arms came to hold her, he heard her whisper something close to his ear. “It’s good to have you back.”

“I think it’s good to be back.” He replied, giving her just a squeeze before letting go. Her feet dropped about an inch when she hit the ground, and she hadn’t even realized he had her airborne. “The kids downtown made me regret it it a bit when I got off the plane — maybe I should have stayed there.”

The spectacle of students protesting down in at Idlewild made her laugh. “They’re just hippies; they don’t get it.”

“Maybe they do?”

“Steve.”

“Pai, I’m just saying that I know better than anyone how shitty the whole thing was.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got the right. They’re just chanting because they can. None of them had the courage to go over there.” She could see how little he wanted to talk about it, so Paisley knew it was time for her to shut her mouth. He offered her the same chair she’d been using at the bar, and he took his supposed seat. A small smile was sent her way before he waved down the bartender, and rattled off the drink she used to get from memory. When he looked over for a some approval, she didn’t tell him she didn’t really like Gin and Tonic’s anymore.

There didn’t really seem to be a point.

She didn’t want to tell him she’d changed — not like everything else had.

#enJOY THIS!!! #please #also upon rereading i realize the whole paisley and steve dynamic is already off to a wild start but she hasn't seen him in two years!!!

[johnbutlersbuzz]

BUGS, COFFEE TALK & GALLBLADDERS

Continuing my road trip north on Highway 83 — America’s Heartland Highway, from Texas to North Dakota.

Mile after mile of mostly flat to gently rolling farmland. Acres of corn, soybean, wheat and sunflowers.

And bugs.

As I drive between the endless fields on this less traveled two-laner sitting on my soft leather bucket seat, gently gripping the ergonomically shaped steering wheel, there is a constant splatting sound on my front windshield. Thousands-upon-thousands of bugs, from flies to grasshoppers are ending their short little lives on ARGO’s front bumper, grill and windshield. So many that it obscures my vision of the road ahead.

I’ve used up the window washer fluid attempting to reduce the bug-buildup. A yellow warning message is now flashing on the instrument panel in-between the speedometer and tachometer, letting me know the washer fluid tank is near empty.

Ahead is a “town,” which consists of a single gas station. Like many stations in rural areas, it also includes a tiny version of a grocery, hardware, entertainment-center and auto supply store. This one even has a soft-serve ice-cream machine. And guess what, they have cases of window washer fluid stacked up on the right side of the door. Only a dollar for a gallon. Perfect.

As ARGO’s tank is being topped off with diesel, I scrub the windows clean with the station’s long-handle squeegee. Then I pull the black hood release lever under the dash, pop the safety catch under the hood, raise it to locking position, and happily fill the plastic washer fluid tank with the gallon of dollar cleaner.

If this were a movie, it’s the kind of moment when I would be whistling a tune watching the fluid fill the tank. Except, I can’t whistle worth a darn.

Anyway, feeling so good about the whole thing, I close the hood and go back inside the station to buy an ice-cream cone to celebrate my accomplishment. A roady cone.

All is good … till I walk back outside. Underneath ARGO’s engine something is dripping in a steady flow onto the concrete drive, forming a pool of liquid. Oil? Diesel? I touch the liquid with my index finger; smell it. Dang, it’s the vinegar smell of washer fluid.

As I hold the cone in my left hand while licking the cold sweet vanilla cream, I raise the hood with my right hand enough to see the plastic washer fluid tank I just filled is nearly empty; depleting rapidly as I watch. Poking around underneath I discover a hose clamp came loose … apparently when I filled the tank to capacity with the gallon of dollar-cleaner. It’s now, a dollar on the ground.

Maybe, revenge of the bugs? One of them lived long enough to pull this stunt. I wouldn’t put it past ‘em. Like in one of those suspense thrillers where you think the bad guy is dead, but he’s not.

So, I spend the next twenty-minutes with my tools reattaching the hose and fastening the clamp. No easy feat due to the location of the hose under the tank, with only a small space where I can reach my hands down to do the work by feel. Finally, success. The hose is attached good enough for now.

I go back in the store, buy another gallon of window washer fluid for a dollar, fill up the tank and shut the hood. Nothing is leaking as I study the underside.

Now I am back in the captain’s chair, with a clean window in front of me, on the road again in a perkier ARGO, brimming with diesel and washer fluid … and me filled with a hastily eaten vanilla ice-cream cone.

I drive to the next small town in Nebraska. Forgive me, but I’m leaving the name of the town out at this point, since I’m going to share some gossip about a few of the locals; a guy named, Walter. And Walter’s wife.

Like nearly all small towns, there are too many empty store front plate-glass-windows, behind which, once were enterprising retail stores run by moms and pops. The backbone of the community. That back was broken by the big box stores, the internet and younger folks moving away.

This town seems to have a bit more life than most. I’m just basing that on the fact a few people were walking on the sidewalk along main street. They were talking to each other. More activity than the other rural towns I’ve passed through.

One store front catches my eye; a bakery. It’s mid-morning and I haven’t had breakfast yet. Driving in front, the sign says they’ve added a coffee shop. Bakery plus coffee works for me.

I park ARGO on the next side street. Walking up to the front door with my schnozzola on alert.

Let me pause here, and apologize, I just like to say schnozzola, a.k.a. “proboscis.” Reminds me of the old comedian, Jimmy Durante, a TV favorite of my grandmother. I have fond memories of my grandmother and me laughing at his jokes together. Who doesn’t like a funny guy with a big schnozzola.

So … my schnozzola leads me through the front door of the bakery, filled with the aromas of dark coffee brewing, combined with another come-hither-whiff: apples and cinnamon in the latter stages of baking.

Inside the bakery, I feel a bit of disappointment as I look through the glass of the wood framed display case. There is little remaining in the way of baked items. Most of whatever was on the shelves is gone. Little spots remain indicating the shelves had probably been filled earlier that morning with real goodies. A danish-type thing with cinnamon remains, so I point to it.

The sign on the back wall lists a selection of coffees, patterned after you-know-who. The conglomerate with the round green logo on every other street corner in bigger cities providing a supply-line to poor pathetic caffeine addicts, like me.

I look over the listings of macchiato, espresso, cappuccino, mocha-blend and such. Standing there waiting for the lady in front of me to order, I’m thinking how, not that long ago, you only asked if the coffee was fresh or not. You were happy if had been made in the last few hours and was reasonable warm. And, of course, it was only a fraction of the cost.

“I’ll have a latte with a half-shot of caramel,” I say.

The shop is small, but there’s a wide opening cut in the left side wall, opposite the counter, opening into a dinning room in the adjoining building. Tables, chairs and a few booths are set up for about thirty to forty people. A sign says they have live music on weekends from time to time.

I put my backpack down in one of the rear booths. A quiet space. I’ll be able to write. Maybe read.

A man and woman are at one table on the far side talking.

At a table toward the center, six men are having coffee and jawing. They stopped talking when I walked by, now they are talking again. The acoustics of the room carry the men’s voices my way.

Four of them are slim men with disappearing butts. One is on the heavy side; another one has a beach ball tummy hanging well over his belt buckle. I am assuming, of course, he had a belt buckle.

A new guy walks in, joining the group.

“Where you been?” one of the guys says to the new arrival, “we missed-ya last few days.”

“Had to get my medicines adjusted,” he answers.

“Oh,” says another man who is sporting a camouflage ball cap with the logo of a bridge on it, “you okay now?

“Yep, but had to go to the hospital for a day … just to do it.”

“You go here?” Another asks, “or the new one down the road?”

“Here.”

“Not sure I’d go to the new one,” another guy says, “with what I’ve heard.”

“Yep, think they’re understaffed; still working the bugs outta the new one.”

I’m trying to tune out the exchange. Starting to settle in over my hot latte. Stream rises up as I take in the caramel overtones coming from the thick ceramic cup. Smells woody-sweet.

I like my coffee dark roasted. Like to joke that it “needs to be strong enough to walk across.”

That line gets an understanding smile and a nod from a fancy coffee shop barista. From a truck stop waitress, well, she’ll just look at me expressionless. Either way, I enjoy these tiny human interactions prior to receiving my morning java fix.

The door opens in the middle of the store-front of the dinning room. A group of six ladies walk-in off the sidewalk. They appear to be in their fifties and sixties, wearing muted casual dresses with matching hairdos.

All seem to be talking at the same time, over each other, as they make their way past the table of men, continue towards me, look around, then select a table near my booth.

No more silence.

I attempt to focus on my coffee. Still a bit of steam rising. I take a small sip. That’s always an “ahhhh-moment” for me; the first taste of freshly brewed coffee. Especially in the morning.

The ladies are chatting away. I don’t normally listen to other people’s conversations, but this one I can’t avoid. They’re talking loudly.

“I wish I could have seen my gallbladder after they took it out,: one of them says.

“You’d want to see it?” A puzzled friend questions in surprise.

“They said it’s full of stones. I’d love to see what that looks like.”

“What I wonder is,” another said, “after they take out your gallbladder how do you digest?”

The question goes unanswered.

Another woman asks, “But what about the new stones? Where do the new stones go? You know if you don’t have your gallbladder anymore….”

That question also goes unanswered. The conversation switches to one of them buying a vacation home in Colorado.

“So Mary, how was your trip to Colorado. You get situated?”

“As you know, we bought a smaller home, like I told you about,” Mary shares. “Really cute, just perfect for Ralph and me. And they told us it would be empty of the other people’s furniture as soon as we closed on it. But when we took our first load, we couldn’t believe it, their furniture was still there.”

“Oh, my God, you got all the way there,” a friend asks, “and the people hadn’t moved out yet?”

“Full house! What were we to do. We didn’t know. Called the Real estate lady, and she didn’t know either. So there we were with our furniture and nowhere to put it. Real estate lady called us back latter, saying they needed another week.”

They continue on about the furniture and how to handle such a calamity.

Now the conversation is back on health issues, and with a twist. Someone named Walter is in the hospital.

“He was all blowed up,” says a lady who visited Walter yesterday at the new hospital. “They had to get the swelling down.”

“Is Walter going to be okay?”

“As long as he gets four hours of sleep, he’s okay.”

A lady who hasn’t spoken yet says, “This is just between us, but I thought you’d want to know….”

They lean in closer to each other. Whispering. I pick up enough to know they are not talking about Walter now, but Walter’s wife. It’s some heavy gossip. In order to protect the innocent I won’t repeat it here.

I’ve observed, that the more important the gossipy news is between friends, the softer the volume of the voice relaying it.

Hushed tones continue as they share stories about Walter’s wife, and poor Walter in the hospital.

Of course, these ladies might as well be shouting into a radio station microphone, printing it in the newspaper, or putting it out on social media. In a town this size it’ll be general public knowledge before noon, passed person-to-person, each time with the warning: “This is just between us, but I thought you’d want to know.”

Gossip, from the mouth of a skilled tittle-tattler, can gut someone they don’t like, clean the meat off their bones, and serve ‘em up stone cold dead before the victim finishes their morning coffee.

Time to move on down the road for me. I leave a tip on the table; sling my backpack over my left shoulder. As I turn opening the door to leave, I see both the group of men and the women stop talking, look at me and watch me walk away.

These morning coffee talk conversations are not peculiar to small towns. They go on every morning all across America. Probably the world. Mostly retired types solving world problems, along with bitching and griping about their phone bill or car repair or whatever wrong they want to be righted.

To them, I’m just another stranger passing through town. Not from around here.

And it’s on down the road I go. Discovering America one story at a time.

JohnButlersBuzz.com