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obetrolncocktails · 2 years

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Bitter | Sam Kiszka X Reader Part 1

Warnings: Explicit language, angst, sprinkle of fluff (though smut is not included in this part, this series will be NSFW: Minors DNI!)

A/n: @dannythedog its been a minute since I have written for Sam, so here's me jumping back in. Glad you asked for some bratty, cocky smut. Because promise me when I tell you, it's coming.

Also thought it would be helpful to explain somethings about working at Starbucks for context: We have two bars (where each espresso machine is): one for drive through drinks, and another for mobile orders and cafe orders. They are usually placed next to each other. Partners are another word for employees.

Word Count: 1.9K

Summary: Working at Starbucks, you'll always run into shitty regulars, but none as beautiful as this one. Such a shame he wastes all of it by being a grade A piece of shit.

“We lose Beverly in five minutes. It’s going to get crazy and we are down a shift manager. I need you guys to stay on top of it. Got it?” Avery said, his macbook in hand to view the schedule.

Avery was the new store manager at your Starbucks location, and though you liked him, he was an outside hire and was poorly trained at making drinks and organizing the positioning of employees. To make matters worse, your shift manager was sick and Avery would have to serve as the shift for the day. He’d need more time to learn through experience, but today was the fucking worst day possible to do that. Every partner on the floor was new and lacked the confidence required to handle such a difficult task.

The funny thing is, your morning started out wonderfully. You had a full team with someone at each position; drive through times were great and tips were surprisingly high. That was, until the shift turned over and the experienced baristas clocked out.

“Y/n, you’re drive through bar. Good luck,” Avery said with a sympathetic smile. You could almost laugh at the pity in his tone, but you put your head down and got to work immediately, pulling labels out of the printer and putting them on cups. Venti Iced White Mocha. No whip. Easy enough. You pumped the appropriate amount of white mocha into the drink, queuing the proper amount of espresso shots and began steaming your milk.

“Um, Y/n. How many pumps does this get?” A partner asked as you worked on your drink.

“It’s a grande, so four, friend!” You offered, kindly. She nodded to you before completing the drink. Before you knew it, you were becoming swamped with questions that these partners should have known. It was concerning to you, because you could tell how long the rest of the shift was going to be. “So, uh. We’re out of black tea. What do we do?” Someone asked, turning to you for an answer.”

“Ask the customer if they would like green tea instead. If not, brew a new batch and have them wait.” You were getting frustrated, but you would never let your co-workers know. They were trying their best, despite the lack of leadership. Every time you looked over, Avery was busy making mobile orders, which would have been helpful if the drive through weren’t so backed up with cars ordering four or more drinks at once.

“Ahem–uh. Did you forget my drink?” Looking up from the espresso machine in front of you, a man leered over the glass, staring at you. He was unbelievably attractive; tall and thin, with long brunette hair pulled into a loose bun. His eyebrows were raised in a positively condescending expression. Instantly, you didn’t like his attitude.

“Hey there! We’re working on it right now, sir. Should be out in just a minute.” You were excellent at managing your tone with customers, but today was testing you. “It’s already been a minute, sweetheart. I’m already late.” He scoffed, sucking his teeth and showing you the time on his phone. “I’ve been waiting for seven minutes.” And? Not your fault he decided to risk being late in the first place.

“Sir, we’re short staffed and we have cars looped around the building.. It will be just one more minute. I will be sure to take care of you if you’ll just wait for me at the end of the bar.” Without another word, he sauntered off, but the feeling of guilt remained with you.

Of course no one was covering bar two, and everyone in the lobby was waiting for their drinks. You’d have to cover both bars at once. Pulling the first sticker from the machine, you prepared the next drink. Venti flat white, blonde, extra shot, extra hot, no foam, toffee nut. You think to yourself: No, Y/n. Who were you to ever think you could ever get off easy? You sigh and begin to make the drink. As the shots poured and the milk steamed, you stepped off to return to another drink on the drive through bar.

“Fuck,” you whisper under your breath. It’s a venti caramel ribbon crunch frappuccino made with heavy whipping cream, two extra shots of espresso and extra caramel drizzle. You ran to the cold bar, seeing that there’s no one available to take the drink. Of course Avery. I can do it all. No problem at all. You can go home. I’ll run the store. Shitty thoughts filled your mind as you worked on the drink. Usually, you would never assume this type of mindset, but it was unbelievable to you that Avery would have let this happen in the middle of a Saturday, one of the busiest business days for the company. You finished the drink, placing it at the drive through before returning to the drink on bar two, ‘Pretentious Asshole’s’ flat white. You finished it and all of the extra add-ins before walking it to the end of the bar, setting it down. “Here you go, sir. Sorry about the wait.” You said with a genuine smile. Though he gave you a hard time, you still wanted him to be satisfied.

“Ugh, you couldn’t even remember to ask for my name? And my drink isn’t hot like I asked for.”

Is this guy fucking serious? “I’m so sorry, sir. What’s your name so I can get this fixed for you?” You pulled out a new cup and a sharpie to write with. He watched as you prepared to scribble his name on the cup.

“Can I borrow that?” He said, nodding to your marker. You hesitated but nodded, handing it over. You watched as he dug into his impossibly tight pocket to retrieve a single dollar. Using the countertop, you waited as he scrawled with sharpie across the dollar bill. “SAM.”

Capping the marker and handing it back to you along with the dollar, he had the nerve to say, “Would have been more if the service wasn’t so shitty. Have a good day, princess.” You would have liked to jump over the countertop and deck him directly in his jaw, ruining that pretty face of his.

The rest of your shift was absolute shit, but you let relief wash over your body as you clocked out. When you took off your green apron, the worries of your shift fell away too, but the interaction between yourself and “Dickhead” Sam remained far into the evening. How could someone so beautiful be so shitty? Such a fucking waste of an irrestible face.

***

Six thirty came much faster this morning than you wanted, but you couldn’t say that you didn’t expect it either. You woke up with aching muscles and the worst case of cottonmouth. Five more minutes, you decided, setting a new timer before rolling over. You lied there, skimming the surface of consciousness for the next two minutes, deciding reluctantly to cancel the timer and sit up. As you set your feet off the edge of the bed and on the floor, gravity became your enemy as you became aware of how compressed your muscles felt. Slowly, you stood up, facing the day. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you stumbled blindly to the bathroom to pee, wipe the sleep out of your eyes and assess how unfortunate you’re going to look today. Hair? Frizzy. Face. Tired and pale. Great. You spent a few seconds tying your greasy hair into a bun on the top of your head, choosing to go with the easy option rather than the responsible one. On the rough mornings, you always slept as much as you could so you’d arrive at work just before seven. You made sure to lay out your clothes last night so you could jump into them, grab your keys and your purse and head out the door.

You arrived at work at 6:55. Luckily, the drive through wasn’t clogged yet. The day was young and you knew that the shift on duty would ask you to work the window because you were good at getting drinks out fast. It got busy quickly, but there was no trace of the chaos that you had experienced during the last shift.

“Good morning.” looking out the window, you see “SAM.” driving up in a black Tesla. His face was still puffy from sleep and his hair hung limply around his face and shoulders.

“Is it?” He said with a smirk. “Looks like you and I had the same idea this morning. Doing the absolute least to get out of the door.” He flashed you a beautiful smile, his eyes camouflaged by a pair of Raybans. You were learning your way around him, even if he annoyed the living shit out of you.

“I am deeply offended. I have you know, this look took me a total of thirty seconds.” You gestured up to your hair.

“I can tell, babe. Still gorgeous, though.” You were sure that you heard him wrong.

“Uh-your to-to-tota–” you began, completely fumbling the sentence. “I can’t speak today. It’s gonna be seven sixty eight.” His grin only widened as he handed you his phone.

You stared at him with an empty impression, not sure why he was giving you his phone. “Apple pay.”

You swallowed, reaching for the scanner for him to hover his phone over. “Thanks, lovely,” he responded, taking his phone back and shoving it in his pocket. What the fuck is up with this guy?

You handed him his overly-expensive flat white. You watched as he took a sip, as if quality checking it. “Absolutely delicious this morning. Thanks, Y/n.”

“You’re welcome, Sam,” You offered with a gentle smirk. “You got it!” Another grin and he’s gone, speeding off from the window.

***

“Y/n,” Avery addressed you during a shift that next week. “Wanted to chat for a second.” Oh God, what did I do… “A customer called in–said he came in a few days ago…early in the morning I think. Said that you looked super tired…” Oh fuck, here it is. Give me my severance check and kick me out without making a scene, I fucking beg you. “Anyway. They said that you were super sweet and helpful and they also saw you working saturday–I agreed with them when they said that you took charge and were super supportive of the team.” You stood there, leaning against the counter, not sure what to expect. “I think I want you to apply for shift manager.” You weren’t expecting him to say that.

“Oh wow–I thought I was in trouble,” you said with a surprised chuckle.

“Are you feeling guilty?” Avery looked at you with a smirk, before coming beside you and elbowing you. “Seriously, Y/n, I want you to consider it. It’s yours. The application is a formality for all partners in the company. Think about it.” He stepped off to the opposite counter, handing you a sheet of paper, describing the duties of a shift manager including the pay and benefits involved.

“Did the customer say who they were?” You asked out of sheer curiosity.

“They said that they were the flat white guy–said that you’d know exactly who it was…” He walked off towards the Back of House leaving you to sit in disbelief. Sam. It was difficult to remove the stupid smile plastered on your face for the rest of the day.

End of part 1

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onlyfreds · 3 years

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Miss Americana and Her London Boy | F.W.

Title: Miss Americana and Her London Boy (x American!reader, Muggle!Au)

Requested: Yes/No

Summary: Y/N goes on a vacation in London to find experience, adventure and memories. But after she meets Fred Weasley, a London Boy. She heads home with not only the experience and the memories, but also love.

It all started in a café in London.

You had gone on a vacation in London to do a little sightseeing and also to cross another thing off your bucket list.

You entered the café that my friend had recommended to you, ordering a peppermint mocha.

On your way out, you accidentally bumped into someone, the coffee only missing you by the skin of your teeth.

“Oh Merlin, I am so sorry.” The man who bumped into you suddenly apologized, his British accent ringing clearly through his voice.

You looked up to get a better look at him, his ginger hair was windswept as if he had just gotten back from the beach. His eyes sparkling in the sunlight. A small, apologetic smile on his lips.

“No, it’s fine.” You said, “I was the one who was looking where I was going."

He smiled, shaking his head, “Nonsense love. I almost spilled my coffee on you.”

You laughed, “If we keep on going on like this, we’ll never finish. So, let’s just call it quits."

He chuckled, “Whatever you say love.” He then offered his free hand, “I’m Fred by the way. Fred Weasley.”

You smiled, taking his hand and shaking it slightly, “I’m Y/N, Y/N L/N.”

“American?” He asked, as the two of you walked down the avenue together.

You chuckled, “The accent gave it away, didn’t it?”

Fred took a sip of his coffee as he replied with a small laugh, “A little bit.”

“So, where do you live in the States?” He asked.

“New York.” You simply stated.

He smiled, running a hand through his hair, “It must be a blast. Living in the Big Apple.”

You laughed, placing my free hand in the pocket of my jeans, “Most of the time. I did come here to have a vacation.”

“So, how long are you staying in London for.” He asked.

You shrugged, “About a month.”

“A month?” He asked in disbelief, “You’re staying here, on a vacation, for a month?”

You laughed, “Why not? I have been dreaming of this vacation ever since I was five. So, I decided to just make the most of it.”

Fred shrugged, a small smile adorning his handsome features, “That makes sense.”

You stopped at the beach where you were supposed to meet your friend. You turned to Fred, “Well, I better go now. It’s been nice having a little chat with you.”

“My pleasure.” He said, taking out a pen and a piece of paper from his pocket as he scribbled something down on it.

“Here’s my number.” He explained as he handed you the piece of paper, “Just in case you want somebody to show you around or you just need someone to talk to. Give me a call and I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

You smiled, gently taking the piece of paper from him, “Thanks Fred. I’ll see you around?”

He took your free hand, raising it up to his lips as he kissed along your knuckles, “You’ll surely will.” He said with a small wink before walking away.

“Who was that?” Your friend, Claudeth, asked as you walked towards her.

You gave her a look of confusion, “Who’s who?”

She rolled her eyes at you, “The cute guy you who was talking to you just now.”

You felt a blush rise up to my cheeks as you avoided her gaze, “Oh, that was Fred.”

“Oooh.” She teased, nudging your shoulder, “Somebody’s got a crush.”

You jokingly pushed her away, “I don’t have a crush on him!”

“Yeah, right.” She said, “If you don’t have a crush on him, then why are you blushing?”

You felt myself get redder, “Okay, I may find him a bit cute." Your eyes widened as you realized what just said, "Not helping Claudeth!”

Claudeth looped her arm around yours as the two of you walked through the beach, “Come on, tell me more.” She encouraged.

You rolled your eyes, “Well, we bumped into each other outside the coffee shop you recommended me. We chatted on the way here and he gave me his number.”

“What?!” She looked at you with wide eyes, before starting to shake you vigorously, “That’s a sign! He’s obviously your soulmate!”

You laughed at her antics, “Does him giving me his number already make him my soulmate? Seriously Claudeth, give me a break.”

“According to your story, you and Fred just met today. And after a few minutes of chatting with him, he already gave you his number. Just trust me and my matchmaking skills Y/N.” She said.

You rolled my eyes at her for the umpteenth time, “Whatever.”

You leaned back against the headboard of yout bed, scrolling through your social media, a bit bored. Claudeth was out with her boyfriend so, you texted the person you couldn't stop thinking about.

<Hey Fred! It's Y/N.

Not even a minute has passed before you received a reply.

>Hey love! What's up?

You smiled to myself as you typed out my reply.

<Well, remember your offer about showing me around London?

>Of course sweetheart! Why?

<I was wondering if you were still up for the it.

You smiled giddily as you read his reply.

>I sure am! Text me your address and I'll be there in twenty minutes.

You quickly typed out my address as you hopped out of bed to change.

You were still deciding whether a denim jacket would go with jeans you were wearing when your best friend suddenly called.

"Hello my soul sister!" You greeted, resting your phone on your shoulder as you pressed your ear against it, going through the rest of the clothes you packed.

"What's got you in a cheery mood today?" Claudeth asked, sligthly amused.

You hummed, "I think it's the fact that Fred is coming over in fifteen minutes. And tell me honestly, does a denim jacket go with jeans."

She laughed, "Yes, denim jackets do go with jeans. And in return, you have to give me some tea about your little 'date'."

You rolled my eyes as you put on the jacket, looking at yourself in the mirror, "It's not a date Claudeth. He's just showing me around."

"Yeah, yeah, then you'll be calling me tomorrow at his apartment..."

"Claudeth!" You chastised my best friend.

Her laugh could be heard as her boyfriend playfully scolded her, "You didn't have to be so mean."

After she had recovered from her laughing fit she said, "What? I'm just saying."

You heard a quick knock on the door, "I'll talk to you later. He's here."

"Go get your man soul sister!" Claudeth cheered on before you dropped the call.

You glanced at your image one more, fixing your hair a bit before grabbing your shoulder bag and opening the door. Being met with the sight of Fred, a cute smile on his face, his hair windswept just like the day you two met.

"Thank you so much for coming on such short notice." You said, closing the hotel door behind you.

He seemed in a daze, as if distracted by something as he just looked at you, his eyes glazed over.

"Are you okay Fred?" You asked.

He snapped out of his trance, blushing slightly at the fact that he got caught, "Nothing, you just look absolutely stunning." He said, adding a small wink at the end.

You felt my cheeks heat up as you looked down at your feet, avoiding his gaze, "Thanks."

"Where exactly as you taking me?" You asked as both of you walked down the avenue.

He smiled, "You'll see."

You playfully raised a brow at him, "How do I know that you're not some part of gang or something and is actually kidnapping me?"

His laughter rang through the air, "Then, I wouldn't be walking with you out in the open. I wouldn't even give you my number in the first place, the fbi and the police can track that."

You chuckled, "Smart. Very smart."

After a few more hours, we arrived at a park.

Fred stretched his arms out dramatically, "Behold, one of the best parks in London."

You laughed at his antics, "I'm relieved. With all the secrecy I thought you were taking me to see the Queen."

"If you want too, I can arrange that." He joked as we laughed.

"So, are you up for an adventure?" He asked.

You scoffed, "Have you forgotten who you're talking to? I'm a New Yorker, I'm always up for an adventure."

He chuckled, handing me a helmet as we walked towards the bikes, "Well come on then, we wouldn't want Miss Americana to get bored do we?"

You rolled my eyes playfully as he gave you a teasing smile.

The two of you sat by the curb as Fred handed you a bottle of water.

"Thanks." You said, taking a small sip, "How much?"

He smiled, shaking his head, "No need. It's on me."

We went on a few more rounds before nightfall came, Fred then escorted you back to your hotel.

"Thank you." You said as we reached your room, "For coming quickly on such short notice. And for the little adventure as well."

He smiled, "It's my pleasure Y/N. And I'd happily do it again. So, are you up for another adventure tomorrow?"

You bit your bottom lip, looking down at your feet to keep the blush from rising up to your cheeks, "Sure, why not?"

He placed his hands in his pockets, "See you tomorrow then. G'night Y/N."

"G'night Fred." You said, as you entered your room, closed the door and leaned against it. Closing your eyes as you committed his dreamy smile to memory.

"No! No! You can't tell me that it's not a date!" Claudeth said dramatically.

You giggled, "Why not?"

"Because," she elongated the last sylablle to emphasize, "You have been 'hanging out' with him for literally the past two weeks. So, you can't tell me that it's not a date."

You rolled your eyes at her, "Just because Seth asked you to be his girlfriend after a week of seeing each other, doesn't mean my future boyfriend has to do the same."

You ducked as she chucked a pillow at you, "Hey, hey, that makes it obvious that Seth is my soulmate. And I am sure that Fred is yours."

You then heard a knock on the door, "That's Fred, I gotta go now!" You said, heading to the door.

"That's what I'm talking about." Claudeth muttered to herself as you opened the door.

"Hi Fred!" You greeted as he gave you a smile.

"Hey love." He said, before turning to my best friend, "As usual, I'll be stealing your friend for a little while. Hope you don't mind."

Claudeth nodded as she gave him a smile, "Go ahead, don't let me stop you. You can even take her home if you want."

"Claudeth!" You scolded.

She gave an apologetic but teasing smile, "It was a joke. Now, run along you two."

You gave her a death glare before closing the door behind yourself.

"I'm so sorry about her." You apologized as you and Fred entered the elevator, heading down to the lobby, "She can be a bit of a crackhead at times."

Fred chuckled, "Don't worry about it. I might actually take up her offer and bring you home."

"You've got to be kidding me!" You said, playfully hitting him on the shoulder.

"I'm kidding." He said, accompanied with a small laugh.

When we walked out of the hotel and kept on walking until we stopped in front of a black scooter.

Fred handed me a helmet, "Well Miss Americana, what do you think?"

You stared at him in awe, "I didn't know you had a scooter."

He chuckled, "Prepared to be surprised then."

He put on a helmet before climbing on the scooter, holding out his hand, "I thought you were a New Yorker." He teased, "What's taking you so long?"

You playfully rolled my eyes as you strapped on the helmet, "There's something called 'patience' London boy." You retorted as you climbed on behind him.

"Hold on." He said, before starting to drive through the bustling streets as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

After a few hours, you stopped at some park.

"Where are you taking me?" You asked as he pulled you through the trees.

He shot you a wink, "You'll see love. And I'm sure you'll love it."

We walked into a clearing that looked like something out of a fairytale.

Trees surrounded the clearing, a small footbridge led to a nearby lake that glistening under the light of the sun.

You smiled, "It's beautiful Freddie."

He chuckled, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear, "I knew you'd like it."

"How did you find this place?" You asked, sitting by the edge of the footbridge.

He sat by the space next to you, "My twin and I found it while my family was hanging out at the park. Wandered a bit too far from the group and ended up here."

"A twin?" You asked, "I didn't know you had a twin."

Fred laughed, "Not just a twin. I have four more brothers and one sister."

"Wow." You grinned, "That is a lot."

"Only child problems Miss Americana?" He teased.

You laughed, "Unfortunately for you, I'm not an only child. I happen to have a younger sister, her name is Ahnica."

He tsked, "Cute. But not as stunning as Y/N."

"You always know what to say, don't you?" You said, trying to keep the blush from rising up to my cheeks.

"It's all part of my charm, isn't it?" He said with a small wink.

"Cheeky, that's for sure."

When nightfall arrived, it also started to rain.

"We're too far from your place." Fred said as we drove through highway, soaking wet from the rain, "Do you want to stay at my flat at least until the rain stops."

"Sure. Whatever works." You said.

We went up to his flat after he parked his motorbike.

As soon as you walked through his door, he immediately threw a towel around me, fussing over me.

As if he wasn't soaking wet as well.

"Fred." You said in an attempt to calm him down, "Stop fussing over me. You're also soaking wet. I can handle myself."

He shook his head, droplets of water flying all over the place, "You might get sick. You might catch a flu or something."

You rolled your eyes at him, grabbing a towel and putting it around him and drying his hair, "You keep on worrying about me getting sick when you're just equally soaked as me."

He chuckled, "Easy there Miss Americana. You don't have to lecture me."

You scoffed, "Not only cheeky. But, stubborn too."

"You love it anyway." He teased.

"Whatever." You said, trying to hide the small smile that was growing on your lips as I sat down on the couch.

Fred headed to the kitchen, coming back holding two mugs of hot chocolate.

"Here." He said with a small smile as he handed you a mug, sitting down beside you.

"Thanks." You muttered, looking up at him, offering him a small smile.

We talked with each other just like we did during the day we met, the feeling of tranquility and peace feeling the atmosphere.

"It stopped raining." Fred pointed out after a little while.

"Oh." You said, trying my best not to sound disappointed, "Well, I better be going now."

"Wait." He said, desperately glancing at his watch, "It's too dangerous to go out alone this late at night. You could stay the night if you want, but if you don't, I can always escort you home."

You bit your lip, "I appreciate the offer Fred. I really do. But, you've already done so much for me. I can't ask you to do anything more."

He chuckled, shaking his head as he stood up, "I insist love. It's absolutely no problem."

"Fred, seriously, I can't. That would be asking for too much." You tried to reason.

But he wasn't backing down, "I insist. You've only got two choices, it's either you stay the night or I'm taking you home."

You sighed, "Fine. But, I'm taking the couch. No buts, no ifs."

He chuckled, "Whatever you say Miss Americana."

"Do you ever stop being so cheeky London boy?" You asked with a small smile.

He grinned, "Never."

You went into the bathroom to change into the oversized shirt and shorts Fred had let me borrowed.

When you had finished, you saw Fred sitting on the balcony.

You chuckled quietly, opening the slide door and stepping outside.

"That's pretty dangerous." You said, "You could lose your balance and fall 50, 60 feet? You'd be lucky to still be alive at that rate."

He smiled, "Aren't you a New Yorker? You should be used to the chaos."

You climbed over the balcony and sat beside him, "Just because I'm a New Yorker doesn't mean that I do things that will put my life at risk."

He looked at you, "Well, you're doing the same thing right now."

"I guess that you have that affect on me then." You said, looking at him.

"I can't believe that you're already leaving tomorrow." Fred suddenly said, causing you to look up from your coffee, since he decided that both of you should spend your last day at the place where you met.

You chuckled, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear, "Time really flies when you're having fun."

You looked at the ginger in front of me. Something about him was... off today. He was quieter than usual.

"Hey," you said as your thumb rubbed small circles at the back of his hand, "are you okay? You seem a bit quieter than usual."

He bit his lip as he looked at you, "No, I'm absolutely fine sweetheart."

You gave him a skeptical look, "I can see it in your eyes, there's something bothering you."

Fred sighed, "It's just been something that I've been thinking about for the past week."

You licked my lips, terribly concerned, "Then tell me, maybe I could help you with it."

He interlocked our hands together, "Will you promise that whatever happens with what I tell you, it won't affect our friendship at all?"

You nodded, "Of course it wouldn't."

Fred took a deep breath, as if preparing himself for the worse, "Spending the past month with you has been the highlight of my entire year. I will honestly tell you that I've been dreading the day that you would have to go back to New York. I have been dreading the day you'll leave and possibly not come back."

You gulped, "Freddie, you're scaring me."

"If I don't tell you this, then it would be my biggest what if. I love you Y/N. More than a friend, more than anything else that I've loved before. It's perfectly fine if you don't feel the same and turn down my offer. But, Y/N L/N, will you be my girlfriend?" He said with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

You smiled as you nodded, "Yes Fred. I will be your girlfriend!"

He grinned, standing up and pulling you into a passionate kiss.

"Thank goodness!" He said as we pulled apart, "You've just made me the happiest man alive."

You giggled, "Well then, that makes me the happiest person to ever walk the planet."

"But, how about the distance?" You asked, "New York isn't on the other side of London."

He licked his lips, "Well, that's what technology is for, isn't it?"

You laughed, "You are a smart cookie."

The time flew by, before you knew it, Fred was taking you back to the hotel for the last time.

"Got everything packed?" Fred asked as he rested a hand on your suitcase.

You looked around the room, already feeling a bit nostalgic for the place that had served as your home for the past month.

You nodded, "Yeah, everything's complete."

We walked out of the room, climbing into the cab that brought you to the airport.

We were silent for the most of the journey. Fred holding on tightly to your hand as much as possible.

When we arrived at the airport, Fred stayed by your side during everything, check-in, immigration and now the moment you dreaded the most.

"So, this is it." You shrug, trying to keep the tears at bay, "I have to go."

Fred sniffed, obviously trying hard not to cry, "I know. But, I don't want you to go."

You gave him a small smile, "I don't want to leave yet too, baby. It's not like I have a choice. Besides, that's what technology is for."

He pulled you into his chest, hugging you tightly, "Yeah, but it's not the same as having you here with me." He said, now openly crying.

"Hey, hey." You said, my tears now dripping down my cheeks, "Don't cry. Just call and text me anytime. Don't think about the timezones. Okay? I don't care if you call or text me at 3 am. I will answer."

Fred sniffed, wiping the tears from you cheeks, "Okay. But, I'll be seeing you in two months."

You chuckled, "Two months? I'll try and get a ticket."

My boyfriend gave a small smile, shaking his head, "I meant me. I'll be visiting you in New York in two months."

"Really?" You said in awe.

He nodded, "Yeah. Now before you protest, I already bought a ticket."

You flung my arms around his neck, "You're the best boyfriend ever!"

"You're the one who brings out the best in me." He whispered.

"Passengers of flight 2B5567 please head to the boarding gate immediately." Someone said over the intercom.

Fred and you pulled apart, profusely wiping the remaining tears from our eyes.

"This is it." You said again.

He nodded, "The 'it' we can't avoid no matter what we do."

He pulled you into a passionate kiss, one where we poured all of your love into it. For one final time.

You grabbed my luggage, heading towards the gate when you suddenly didn't care about missing your flight.

Your let go of your luggage, running into Fred's arms as you threw your arms around him, pulling him in for another kiss.

"Last reminder, all passengers of flight 2B5567 please head to the boarding gate immediately." The intercom sounded again.

"Sweetheart, I love you and all, but you're going to miss your flight." Fred said.

You nodded, taking off my bracelet, it was the one you were wearing the day you met Fred.

You handed it to your boyfriend, seeing his expression falter a little, "I can't take that princess."

You gave him a reassuring smile, "You can and you will. Whenever you miss me, just hold this and think that I'm holding your hand."

He sniffed as he took it, "I love you." He said, his voice cracking a little.

"I love you too." You said.

"Go to the gate." He urged, "The plane won't wait for you."

You nodded, giving him one last smile before heading back to your luggage and going to the gate.

"'Till we meet again, Miss Americana." He said with a small smile, his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

You waved goodbye, "Till our next adventure, my London boy." You said before showing the attendant my ticket and heading into the plane.

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

@lumosandnoxwriting @wand3ringr0s3 @famdomhideout @nova-darling @gaycatlord-stuff @pandaxnienke @escapingrealitybyreading (If you are crossed out, that means I can’t tag you)

#fred weasly x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley one shots #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #london boy #fred weasley smut #fred weasley angst #muggle!au #fredweasleyxamerican!reader

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redgillan · 4 years

Text

Under Pastel Skies - 2

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 2,024

Warnings: none

A/N: I’m just going to remind you that this sugar daddy fic isn’t about smut. I love smut but it’s not what I’m focusing on here.

Bucky stood under the glass awning in front of the hotel, the neon green light illuminating the path to the automatic doors. He forced his eyes closed and listened to the sound of rain hitting the glass shelter.

It was just after 6:30 in the morning and he had been standing there for over ten minutes, trying to work up the courage to enter the building. He was sweating, trembling, breathing like he’d just run a marathon. Every sound around him seemed amplified; cars honking, people talking or listening to music. It was hell.

He desperately wanted to take a cab ride back to Brooklyn and hide in his apartment. Bucky had a strict routine -get up at six, eat, shave, shower, go for a walk, etc- and he needed it to keep his mind focused and his body healthy. Though lately, his therapist had encouraged him to stray from his routine if he felt like it. And he wanted to, but his body wasn’t cooperating.

Instead he just stood here, stuck between two choices that terrified him. He could go back home and hate himself for taking the ‘easy way out’, or he could take the plunge and enter the building. He had come here on a whim, but now that he was here he felt as if he really needed to see you. He didn’t even know if you were working.

He looked over his shoulder, he could almost see the metaphorical pack of wolves waiting for him. It would be easy to give in and let them take him. He could go back to his old life, his old habits, or he could jump off that metaphorical cliff and hope for the best.

Your chances are infinite. Anything can happen.

“Can I help you, sir?”

Bucky greeted the receptionist with a smile. He asked if he could have breakfast at the hotel restaurant and she agreed before leading him to the Bar Lounge.

The room was large, with row after row of square tables perfectly aligned. There were a few more private seats close to the bar and an oval buffet in the middle of the room. A woman in a dark grey suit scooped a small portion of scrambled eggs onto her plate next to two slices of toasted white bread. She raised her gaze to his and nodded in greeting.

The swing door that led to the kitchen burst open and Bucky turned his attention to the sound. You were carrying a large tank of orange juice to the buffet table, a pen tucked behind your ear and a piece of paper between your lips. There was a slight furrow between your brows as you set the tank on the table.

Your scuffed boots were gone, replaced by black ballet flats. Your pencil skirt rose up as you stretched to reach the highest part of the buffet. Bucky hastily looked away from your bare legs, not wanting to look like a total creep. Once you were done, you smoothed down your skirt and tucked your white shirt into your skirt.

Your hair was brushed away from your face and your lips were painted red, something dark and empowering, and it contrasted beautifully with your strict, uninspiring uniform, which only intended to erase any sense of individuality.

“Hi, how can I h- Hey, I know you,” you said, approaching him. “You’re Bucky.”

He bashfully looked at his shoes. “Yeah, hi.” He cleared his throat and raised his gaze to yours. “I was hoping to run into you. I, uh, I can’t stop thinking about our talk.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I was rude and brusque, and you were incredibly nice. I really feel like an ass.”

You chuckled. “It’s fine. Honestly, I was nervous, too. You should have seen me –I was a complete mess.”

“Could have fooled me,” he replied with a grin. “Though you did say that meeting me was like choosing between a pack of wolves or jumping off a cliff.”

“Gosh!” You facepalmed. “See? A complete mess!” You gestured to the table behind you. “Have you eaten yet? Sit down, it’s on me.” He opened his mouth to protest but you cut him off. “You paid for the taxi. It’s only fair.”

Amused, he shook his head and followed you to the buffet table. Everything looked and smelled delicious. He spotted several glass cereal dispensers filled with frosted flakes, Cap'n Crunch, Lucky Charms and good old Fruit Loops.

“We also have French toasts, pancakes, croissants, turnovers, omelettes, eggs, four different types of bread with margarine, butter, jam, Nutella, or marmalade,” you said without pausing for a breath, “freshly sliced fruits, a variety of yogurts, granola, oatmeal, orange juice, apple juice, Danish pastries, muffins and a great selection of teas.”

“And that’s it?” Bucky asked, his face breaking into a teasing smile. You liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners right before he smiled.

You pouted your lips while you thought. “Actually no, we also have scrambled eggs –which, frankly, I don’t recommend. They come in a plastic bag and we have to heat them up in the microwave. It’s a little gross. You can try the sausage and bacon though, unless you don’t eat meat.”

“And coffee?” He found your flustered reaction to his teasing absolutely adorable.

“Yes, of course,” you said, biting your bottom lip. “Sorry, I get a little excited sometimes.”

“I understand,” he nodded. “That’s a pretty great buffet, though I’ll stay clear of the scrambled eggs.”

You took a few steps toward the kitchen and turned back to him, a little apologetic cringe on your face. “Um, how do you take your coffee? Expresso, Americano, latte, cappuccino, macchiato, mocha, ristretto-” you paused to take a breath “-or iced coffee?”

A laugh bubbled out of him. He couldn’t help it, you were just too endearing. “Black,” he said, grinning. “I know I’m boring.”

“Oh, no! You’re not boring,” you rushed to say, then realized what he was doing. “Ugh, you’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“A little.” His nose scrunched up as he said it.

You went to the kitchen to make his cup of coffee and Bucky began to browse the length of the buffet table. Scooping food onto his plate with only one hand proved more challenging than he expected, and he was glad that the lounge was mostly empty.

He could feel the lady in the grey suit’s eyes on him as he moved around. He set his plate on the bar, removed the glass lid, scooped up two hefty pancakes and stacked them on his plate. They looked pretty fluffy, it wouldn’t be hard to cut them with the edge of a fork. Then he replaced the lid and moved his plate closer to the maple syrup bottle.

He glanced at the woman who hastily looked away as if she hadn’t been staring at him the whole time. Annoyed, he kept looking at her while he poured maple syrup over his pancakes. He hated when people stared at him as if he were a freak. He narrowed his eyes menacingly and grinned to himself when she started fidgeting in her seat.

“You must really love maple syrup.”

Bucky paused at the sound of your voice, his features immediately softened. He looked down at his plate and realised he had drowned his pancakes in a gooey river of maple syrup. He must have spaced out during his staring contest with the business woman.

He had a strange look in his eyes, his expression a mix of confusion and anguish. Finally his eyes found yours and you smiled warmly at him, making him fight back a blink. You pried the bottle out of his rigid hand, and he let you take it.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice weak.

You weren’t sure what he was apologizing for but it wasn’t something you were going to analyse right now. “There’s a cup of coffee waiting for you. Best cup in Manhattan.”

He laughed, the crinkles were back. “You’re an angel.”

Bucky returned to his table and loaded his coffee with three teaspoons of sugar before he took a sip. He had always preferred sweet to savoury, and coffee was way too bitter for him.

There wasn’t much to do in the lounge. The television was behind him, the sound kept to a minimum. The lady in the grey suit left soon after and Bucky watched you clean her table.

You moved back and forth between the main room and the kitchen, going about your work and occasionally shooting him a smile. The food was good, not spectacular, but still better than his usual breakfast –two slices of toasted white bread with butter and a cup of coffee.

“Do you need anything else?” you asked, standing next to his table.

“Company?” he said with a hopeful look. “Please.”

You offered him a pained grimace when he gestured at the seat across from him. “I’m not allowed to sit. Sorry.”

It was hard to resist his puppy dog eyes but you needed to keep your job if you wanted to be able to afford your own place.

“Do you like working here?”

“It’s okay,” you shrugged. “I’m glad I have a job.”

“Sam mentioned you’re an artist.”

You shyly looked around you, you were the only two people in the room now. “I haven’t painted since I got this job,” you revealed. “I’m pretty sure my artist membership card has been cancelled.”

“Nope, those are for life.”

You laughed. “I hope so.”

You looked at each other before he asked, “Do you have any pictures of your work?”

You were genuinely surprised that someone wanted to see your work. Usually people offered a half-hearted ‘oh, that nice. I paint, too, occasionally” and changed the subject. You patted your pockets, searching for your phone, and groaned when you remembered that it was in your locker.

“I don’t have my phone with me but wait-” You took a napkin from the table and started writing. “This is my Instagram. I do a bit of everything, mostly landscapes and portraits.”

Bucky took the piece of paper and, before he could comment, a family of four walked into the lounge area. You apologized to him and walked over to the family, greeting them with a smile and asking them if they had a good night’s sleep.

The children looked like walking zombies until they spotted the cereal bar, and then chaos ensued. More people went down to breakfast and you didn’t have time to chat with him anymore.

He stayed a little longer, watching you help the kids pour cereal and milk into their bowls. A man who didn’t speak English very well asked you a question and you froze, trying to make him understand since you didn’t speak his language. Bucky smiled when you mimed the answer. The man laughed and gave you a thumb’s up.

There was something about you, something soft and caring, that made people at ease. Even when people started complaining that the platter of scrambled eggs was empty, you defused the situation so smoothly that they left with a smile on their face. It was the kind of person you were, kind-hearted and willing to help.

An angel.

When you looked in his direction again, Bucky was gone. You felt a pang of disappointment that he hadn’t said goodbye, but you had been so busy that even if he had been trying to get your attention, chances are you wouldn’t have noticed him.

Pouting exaggeratedly to yourself, you went to his table with your tray and a clean rag to collect the dirty dishes. You moved the unfolded napkin and what you saw underneath made you stop. You blinked, once, twice, three times, certain that you were hallucinating. You scooped up the bills and counted them.

$300

Your eyes were the size of saucers as you ran back to the lobby. You checked outside for Bucky but he was gone. You stood there, under the glass awning, with a bewildered look on your face, still clutching the bills.

Part 3

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

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sighmurderbot · 3 years

Text

Irish Coffee Chapter Three

Title: Gatorade and Sixth Floor Coffee

Chapter Rating/Warnings: G, I don’t think there’s even any profanity in this one

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: They meet over coffee and Kierkegaard. There was a spark in his honey-brown eyes that drew her to him. There was a sadness behind her bright smile that drew him to her. Spencer Reid/Original Female Character. Slow burn coffee shop meet. Strangers to friends to lovers. This fic is also available on AO3, it’s ahead of tumblr currently!

previous chapter//next chapter

“Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art.... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.”

― C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

One exhausting week rolled into the next. Spencer didn’t stop by every day, but the days he did I found myself smiling a little easier. He was considerate, always making sure I could clearly read his lips when it was noisy, always patient even when I could tell he had somewhere to be.

When the shop was empty he would linger an extra moment or two, giving me some sort of obscure fact about coffee, cafes, caffeine, or something else tangentially related. I soaked it up like a little knowledge sponge. The way he gestured with his hands when he got excited about what he was saying always put a grin on my face.

When the shop was busy, with suits shoving in and out, Spencer waited quietly in line and was extra polite when ordering, as if his manners would make up for the harsh and hurried words I was subjected to from others.

And every time he came in, no matter what time of day, rain or shine, he ordered a large mocha with extra sugar.

By the second week I started noticing him before he walked in. Something caught my eye, maybe it was his cardigans or incessantly mismatched socks, or maybe I was developing a Spencer radar, but I started to have his coffee ready before he reached the counter.

The first time I proudly plunked his order in front of him before he could speak I think I really threw him off. It wasn’t a busy day, and I was already leaning on the counter, allowing myself a little bit of rest. He paused, mouth still open, and tilted his head at the cup. He then pressed his lips together and frowned slightly. Was he disappointed? It certainly looked like it.

“It’s exactly how you like,” I hurried to assure him.

“Thanks,” he replied, slowly taking the cup. I felt my stomach drop as he began to turn away. I had been looking forward to his visit, especially since I hadn't seen him for a few days. Somehow the young doctor always found a way to make me smile.

“I thought,” I called out after him, stopping his movements, “that it would help to have it ready. You know, so I don’t have to go make it in the middle of talking to you.”

He turned back, frown now bent into a small smile.

"How efficient," he said. I shrugged.

"I like to maximize the good things in life."

Spencer didn't reply right away, instead electing to shyly drop his eyes and take a sip of coffee. His muscles relaxed a little as the hot liquid worked it's magic.

"How have you been enjoying Asimov?" I asked, falling back to a safe subject for both of us: books. Any tension that may have been lingering dissipated as Spencer's eyes lit up.

"Fascinating!" He started, and I settled myself against the counter a little more, perfectly happy to listen. After noticing my hearing aids, Spencer made sure to speak clearly when we conversed, and for the few brief moments I was with him, it was like my hearing had never started to degenerate at all.

"Psychohistory as a concept alone is fascinating, and when applied to a well developed futuristic universe it practically crafts the story by itself. The field itself only really became recognized when Lloyd deMause developed a formal approach to apply to the study of psychobiology, history, and social dynamics. Even that was fairly recently; deMause is still an influential figure in the field today."

Without fail, whenever Spencer stopped in, I learned something. The information, the passion with which he presented it, everything down to his soft, first-year philosophy professor look had me longing to go back to school. Listening to Spencer teach, whether it was conscious or not on his part, was like sips of water in the desert.

Not for the first time I wondered what he did for work. He was skittish about the subject, the first time I asked he dodged the question, and any time the conversation had neared the subject again he'd start to clam up, avoid eye contact, and worry at his bag or cardigan sleeve.

If he doesn't want to talk about it he doesn't want to talk about it, I reasoned finally. Lord knows there's enough secret jobs in this city, why would he take a break from work for coffee just to talk about work with a random barista?

So I had dropped the subject, and our talks flowed around books and philosophy and whatever tidbits of trivia were on his mind that day.

Unfortunately, our discussion was brought to a quick conclusion when another customer entered, sending the bell above the door swinging with an annoying tone that ensured I always had a low-level headache.

I stood and exchanged a small wave with Spencer. Even the way he waved, hand low, arm tucked into his side, made me smile. When he left he was careful not to rip the door open, the bell barely moved as he slipped away.

We continued like that for a time, but as fall turned towards winter, I found myself struggling to get out of bed in the morning. Exhaustion weighted my limbs before I even got to work, and even the heaviest concealer couldn’t cover the bruise-like shadows beneath my eyes. Whereas before I would tidy the shop during lulls, I now had to pause to catch my breath after rushes, as if every customer took what little energy I had with them. My Spencer radar didn’t go off for days at a time, sometimes almost an entire week would pass before he would stop in. I felt foolish for looking forward to a regular so much, but I couldn’t help myself. I enjoyed his company, even though I knew he probably didn’t give me a second thought once he was outside the shop doors.

It had been one of the longer stretches since Spencer visited when I woke up in the middle of the night, head aching and throat raw.

It was bound to happen eventually, I thought, dragging myself across my studio apartment and getting a glass of water. Even the simple liquid hurt to swallow.

I winced and returned to bed, grabbing my phone. Flipping it open, I navigated to the two numbers I needed and sent a message to my bosses for both the coffee shop and the diner. Surely they couldn’t begrudge me a single sick day.

Attempting another sip of water, I burrowed back into my blankets and slipped into a restless sleep.

Spencer

A few hours later, in another part of the city…

Spencer found mornings difficult, especially since he was left only with crappy sixth floor coffee until lunch. The team had handled back to back cases that left him drained and a pile of files towering on each member’s desk.

“Morning,” Morgan greeted as his younger associate stepped off the elevator. Spencer gave him a noncommittal noise and a nod, beelining for the bullpen’s coffee maker.

Prentiss glanced up, sharing a look with Morgan, and they both shrugged.

“I don’t know how you can drink this stuff,” Prentiss said, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. “Why don’t you just stop for coffee before you come in?”

Spencer kept his eyes on the cup into which he was stirring spoonful after spoonful of sugar.

“I go out for coffee in the afternoon,” he replied evenly. Prentiss and Morgan exchanged another look, with the other man joining Prentiss and Spencer at the counter.

“Yeah, we noticed,” he said. “Must be really good coffee, in the years you’ve worked here you never used to go further than the cafe at the corner.”

Prentiss nodded in agreement. “And yet, you haven’t been there in two, three weeks, have you?”

Spencer turned, coffee held close to his chest as he looked between his coworkers.

“I thought there was a permanent moratorium on inter-unit profiling,” he frowned, lips drawn together in a slight pout.

“Not profiling,” Prentiss smiled.

“Just observing,” Morgan agreed.

“Hmph,” Spencer huffed, heading for his desk.

“So you're gonna take your favorite coworkers to your new go-to coffee spot?” Morgan called after him.

“I dunno,” Spencer replied, flipping open the first pile of his stack. “I’ll ask Hotch and JJ.”

“Oooh,” Morgan clutched a hand to his chest, as if injured, face drawn in overdramatic pain. “That hurts, Pretty Boy.”

The target of his teasing, however, was already working through the file before him. Morgan sighed, no more excuse available to keep him from doing the same.

At precisely 2:15pm, Spencer stood and gathered his things. He could feel Morgan and Prentiss studying him as he unclipped the gun holstered on his hip and carefully set the weapon in his bag. Slinging the strap over his head he settled it on his opposite shoulder, grabbed his scarf, and looped it around his neck.

“Off for coffee?” Prentiss asked, tone dripping with innocence.

“Yup,” Spencer replied shortly. “See you in a bit.”

“See ya,” she replied.

As the elevator doors slid shut before him, Spencer watched Prentiss slide her chair over to Morgan’s desk. They ducked their heads together, undoubtedly gossiping about Spencer’s mysterious new favorite coffee shop.

They were surprised, then, when he returned in almost half the usual time with no coffee in hand.

“Hey, kid,” Morgan leaned towards the small wall separating their desks. “You didn’t let our teasing stop you from getting your coffee, did you?”

“What?” Spencer looked up, as if Morgan had interrupted him in deep thought. Morgan raised one thick eyebrow.

“Where’s your coffee?” Morgan asked. Spencer frowned slightly.

“Didn’t feel like it today.”

Morgan glanced towards Prentiss, who tilted her head. He raised and dropped one shoulder.

There was no way they could know that Spencer had hurried a few blocks down from the office, whether subconsciously speeding his steps or not. Neither Morgan nor Prentiss could realize the way Spencer looked through the window to the counter, ready to smile at the sight of a blonde barista with a tall mocha in her hand. They couldn’t know the way his stomach dropped and shoulders drooped when there was no bright blonde with a ready smile and sparkling hazel eyes behind the counter that day. Instead there was a stranger, a young man with annoyance written on his face. A cloud passed in front of the weak fall sun and before Spencer realized it he was walking back to the BAU. His mind was far away, wondering what would cause a break in such a strict routine.

He hadn’t known Katie very long, but she was friendly, and she listened—really listened—when he spoke. She was so different from his world, so unusual, and yet so absolutely normal. There was much he knew about her: her determination, her punishing schedule, her devotion to cheerfulness, but there was so much more he didn’t know and wanted to find out, if only out of an academic curiosity to understand how and why she did what she did. Why she seemed to perk up when she spotted him on the sidewalk outside, why she let him ramble on far after anyone else would have told him to shut up.

And why, why wasn’t she at the coffee shop?

Because she has a life, the little voice inside his head mocked. Because you are a customer who is nice to her and it is her job to keep you coming back for overpriced DC coffee.

Shaking his head, Spencer tried to put her from his mind and steeled himself for the inevitable tag team teasing that Morgan and Prentiss would subject him to.

Katie

I groaned curses at the sun as it found a gap in my curtains, slicing through my dark room as easily as any blade.

Rolling over, the red LEDs of my clock told me it was far past time to attempt a shower and food, sick or not. I couldn’t really afford to be so late with my meds, but I hoped perhaps it would be an okay day and I could slip a few extra hours past my vertigo.

No such luck. I sat up slowly and the room tipped around me. It was a combination of floating and spinning while drunk, and it sent me stumbling to the bathroom on flimsy legs. It was like I had downed a bottle of jack and chased it with that soda from Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory that made people fly.

I almost overshot the toilet but an iron grip on the cold porcelain kept me anchored as I heaved. There was nothing to throw up, but my body hadn’t gotten the message. Nearly twenty minutes passed before I allowed myself to slump back on the tile floor, sweat sticking hair to my forehead and the back of my neck.

It was like I was on a teacup ride at the fair and it was slow at the moment, but could speed up again at any moment. I just prayed I’d be able to handle it when it did.

Somewhere in the other room my phone buzzed. I hadn’t thought to grab it in my mad rush for the bathroom, and at the moment I didn’t think I had the strength to retrieve it. It wasn’t hard to run through the people who might be contacting me. The only options were one of my bosses or Liz, and I didn’t feel like talking to them at the moment.

You can’t just isolate yourself when things get hard.

The voice in my head sounded a lot like my therapist from school. I sighed deeply, frustrated and tired, tipping my head back to rest on the glass around my shower.

“Right, shower,” I muttered. That was what I had originally intended to do when I got up. Moving slowly and carefully, breathing to steady myself, I flopped into the small tub and turned the shower on full spray, letting the water pepper across my skin.

Eventually I stripped off the tank top and shorts I had slept in, leaving them in a sodden heap near the drain, and grabbed the soap, scrubbing myself until the water started to run cold. After I was clean and all the soap suds had swirled down the drain I shut off the water and cautiously stood, white-knuckling the support bar I had installed in the shower after my first fall.

The room didn’t want to stay still, but it had stopped rotating enough for me to step out of the shower, make my way to the towel rack, and wrap myself in a large, fluffy towel.

Water dripped from my body as I padded out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, leaving wet footprints trailing the wooden floor behind me. I pulled a frosty gatorade from my fridge and a sleeve of saltines from my cabinet. Setting the sustenance on my bedside table, I dried off enough to keep my sheets dry and climbed back into bed, not bothering with pajamas this time.

Thankfully, I was able to keep some of the bland crackers and alarmingly blue liquid down. I downed my medication and sunk back into my pillows, even the little I had accomplished that day taking all my energy.

Hopeful that I’d wake with the cold gone and my meds working, I began to doze, and the dozing deepened into a dreamless sleep.

My one sick day stretched into two, then three. Fighting one disease was hard enough, and it intensified even the smallest infection from an annoyance into a massive burden. On the third day my phone rang. The conversation with my boss from the diner was quick and professional. I understood that he needed reliable employees, but I had hoped the fact that I was never late and always gave as much notice as possible for my sick days as possible would buy me some leeway.

Apparently not.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose as I snapped my phone shut.

It’s okay, I reasoned. I can pick up more shifts at the cafe and the bar. They’ve always paid better anyway.

Resting my head against the wall I studied my ceiling.

“What do I do, mom?” I whispered, closing my eyes.

“Not knowing when the dawn will come, I open every door.”

Emily Dickinson had been one of my mother’s favorites, and it was her voice I heard.

Right, I thought, steeling myself. What doors haven’t I tried yet?

Dragging my laptop onto my lap took more effort than perhaps it should have, but I managed it.

Scholarships.

Now that I had a full time work record to back me up, I might qualify for more money. And if I qualified for enough I could take the next step, instead of being stuck running in circles trying to earn enough over three jobs to pay for college by myself.

The sun had long since set on my third sick day when I finally shut my laptop and let sleep claim me once more. I now had a small spark of something to go with the stubborn determination my mother had instilled in me: hope.

#Irish Coffee #my writing #spencer reid #criminal minds #cm fic #cm #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #doctor reid #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction

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chairismaticchair · 4 years

Text

You Are Mine

TW: Murder, Yandere actions, suicide thoughts, suicide aftermath

"What... What did you do Logan? What did you do to them?" There was a quiver in Patton's voice as he stumbled back from the man in front of him. He had already suspected something odd was happening, but the proof in front of him was undeniable.

"It's simple. " Came the nonchalant reply, "I killed them. "

---

Logan held the picture in front of him, staring intently at it, as if it held the secrets of the universe. To him, it was far more important than that. It was a picture of four friends.

On the right side of the frame was the tallest man out of the four. He was lanky and his red highlights complimented his gingerbread brown hair. Giving bunny ears to the person beside him, the smug expression on his face vaguely resembled royalty. That, his name being Roman Princeton and his love of Disney movies earned him the nickname "Princey".

The man he was bunny-earing was pushing Roman's hand away, a playful glare on his face. His hair was a dark shade of purple, successfully covering his eyes. Clad in a black and purple patched hoodie, he was one of the shorter members of the group. His name was Virgil, and his dark exterior reflected his "inner turmoil and evil" as he would often declare in a grouchy manner.

The shortest of the group was Patton, the man standing next to Virgil. He wore a light blue polo shirt and a grey cardigan was tied around his shoulders like a superhero cape. Along with his khaki pants and dad jokes, he was the father figure of the group. His blond hair was messy and he wore black framed spectacles. The source of sunshine and optimism, he was always there to lend a helping hand. He had an arm around Vigil and another around the man beside him.

Beside the positive man was Logan. His posture upright, he was the most serious of the bunch. His dark blue tie was on top of his black polo shirt. Black hair was brushed neatly to the side, and a pair of black framed spectacles framed his mocha eyes. None of his friends knew why, but he had bought the same frames as Patton shortly after he had purchased his own. Whenever they did ask him, their only answer was a shrug. The first time Patton spotted the matching spectacles, he did not ask any questions. Instead, he beamed, gestured towards both spectacles and exclaimed, "Glasses buddies! " That made Logan smile, a rare thing.

Now, just the thought of Patton's arm around him caused a pink tinge to show up on his usually pale cheeks and tingles at the places where Patton had wrapped his arm around. It felt nice. He had never felt like this before but he liked it. He wanted more. He needed more.

Just then, there was a knock on his door and it opened. " Hey Lo, do you have-" Purple hair was brushed aside as Virgil walked closer towards Logan. " Oh, that's a nice photo. From that trip to Disneyland, right? Roman was such an idiot. " He rolled his eyes fondly at the thought.

Logan wasn't focusing on that, however. He was focusing on how Patton had his arm around Virgil as well. Clenching his fists, he gritted his teeth. How dare he! That despicable cretin, attempting to steal his precious Patton. Patton was his. With his hugs, warmth and cuteness, he deserves everything. He wastes his love on Virgil.

Noticing Logan stiffen up, Virgil tilted his head curiously. "You okay? " Before he finished his question, Logan had made up his mind. It was simply the most logical way to approach a problem. You destroy the threats and the problem disappears. Simple as that. His eyes scanning around the room, he found the perfect tool to assist in his procedure. A tie. It was an old one, slightly tattered around the seams, but it would work.

Grabbing the accessory, he pushed Virgil against the wall and wrapped the tie around his neck before pulling tightly. Gasping for breath, Virgil hysterically pulled at the fabric in an attempt to loosen its tight grip. However, with the combination of his smaller stature and shock, he was unsuccessful. "Wh-why? " He managed to choke out.

Logan pulled tighter, his grip still even. His face was void of emotion as he answered Virgil's question. "Patton deserves better than to have to love someone like you. I'm merely helping him. "

In a few seconds, the man's body slumped to the ground, unconscious. However, he held the tie tight for a couple minutes longer to ensure death. Admiring his handiwork, the corners of Logan's mouth lifted to form a satisfied smile. Deciding the next phase of his plan, he opened his room door slightly and peered out, making sure that no interfering roommates were going to pass by.

Safe. He hoisted Virgil bridesmaid style and crossed the hallway towards the emo's room. The light was still on, and the oak desk that was at the side of the room was a mess, as if he was searching for something. Placing down the body on the floor, Logan flung open the closet door and, as messily as he could, searched for a belt. Spotting a long black one, he climbed onto a stool and found a hook on the ceiling. It used to have a large black swing that hung from it, but the wear and tear it received sealed its fate to the trash. Perfect. Knotting a noose in the expert way that any outsider watching would be worried by, he looped it over the hook.

The next part of the plan. Bending down to grab the corpse, he placed the head through the noose before letting gravity take over. Success. The smile appeared on his face once more. Patton would be so proud! He had always told Logan to help others, and now Logan was helping him. Stepping off the stool, he kicked it to the side.

Finally. Logan knew that Virgil had considered suicide before, which was what made his plan so perfect. Eyes scanning the desktop, he spotted a black journey and flipped through it, till he reached the page he had suspected was there. Hey guys, it wrote in scratchy handwriting, I just wanted to tell all of you how much you mean to me. I'm sorry. I need to do this. I can't take it anymore. The voices, the constant throbbing in my head, the pit of dread in my stomach. The pain is too much to bear. I don't know what else to do. I'm trapped. I just want you guys to know I love all of you. The single letter 'V' was signed at the bottom.

Perfection. He tore out the page and left it on the table, before walking back towards his room.

Logan went back to business. Taking out the picture that had been carelessly thrown aside, he tore the spot between Patton and Virgil, before pinning the side with him and his beloved on the wall. That picture gave him another surge of adrenaline, right before he heard a shrill scream and the clatter of an object onto the ground.

Patton. Logan knew exactly what to do. Bursting into Virgil's room, he feigned a gasp before turning towards the blonde beside him. A plate of chocolate chip cookies lay on the floor along with a plastic plate. Trembling, Patton feverishly looked around the room for something, anything that could explain the body in front of him. He grabbed the paper on the desk and scanned it, more and more tears dripping down his face. Logan placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, careful not to scare him.

"It… it can't be. " He mumbled, "He said he was getting better, he said he was alright. " The volume of his voice raised as he choked out every word through tears. "He said he was fine! " He was screaming now, on his knees.

Realisation dawned upon his face and his puffy eyes widened. "And I believed him. " He whispered hoarsely, "How could I have been so stupid? Why am I so stupid? Why? Why? " The questions started to torment him, each one a stab at his heart. He ducked his head, not wanting to face the limp body dangling in front of him. Gasp after gasp could be heard as Patton struggle to breath, pain surging through him in each attempt.

Seizing his moment, Logan knelt down and placed a hand on Patton's back, moving it up and down rhythmically to guide his breathing. "Everything will be okay." He comforted, "Everything will be okay." Patton still trembled, waves of emotion threatening to drown him once more. There was a panicked look in his eyes as he nodded hesitantly.

Roman had been standing at the doorway, silent. He had came running when he heard the screaming and when he saw Virgil, he stopped in his tracks. Unlike Patton's frantic reaction, Roman merely stared at the limp corpse dangling from the ceiling, like a warped Halloween decoration that he could not take his eyes off of.

Why did he… He shook his head, snapping himself out of his stupor. He couldn't afford to ponder for a reason. He would fall into a destructive cycle, and he couldn't do that. He had to make sure Patton will be okay. Roman knew that Logan was not the most empathetic, and he needed to help support Patton. And with that decision, he walked over to Virgil.

Standing on tip-toes, Roman gingerly removed the noose. Silent, he lay the body on the floor, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He wiped it off. He had to stay strong, for his friends. They needed him!

However, Roman allowed himself a moment of weakness. Leaning over Virgil, he kissed his forehead softly. "Sleep well, my love."

---

It had been a month after Virgil's death. Patton would still break down whenever he spotted something that reminded him of the man, like a purple hoodie or the cat figurine that he had made for Patton for his birthday.

He had looked around the room for anything that could show that Virgil didn't kill himself, but he found nothing. There was a stool that was kicked aside, presumably how he hung himself. The wardrobe was messy, as if he was panicking when he looked for the belt. Everything pointed towards a suicide. But Patton refused to believe it. He had said he was getting better, and Patton had been able to see it, so there was no reason why he would have done it.

Maybe he was pretending. A voice taunted in his head. Maybe he didn't trust you enough to tell you the truth. Patton shut his eyes tight, trying to drown out the voice in his head by muttering three words to himself over and over. " He didn't lie. He didn't lie. He didn't-"

The door opened and Roman stepped inside, two cups of hot chocolate in his hands. "Er... Padre, I don't think being in this room is healthy for you. Come outside, I made you a drink."

"No. No. I have to find out what happened. " Patton paused. "Maybe Logan could help me, he's smart!" Charged by the new idea, he dashed off to the opposite room.

Roman stared at the closed black door, before sighing. After looking around the room wistfully, he followed the energetic man.

Hearing knocks on his room door, Logan opened it to reveal Patton. His eyes were bloodshot and he had dark circles around them. How cute. Logan mused. Even after crying and staying up late, Patton was still the most precious person he had ever seen. His most precious person.

Stepping out, he shut the door behind him and smiled. "How may I help you, Preci- Patton? "

"I'm trying to find out about how Virgil-" He hesitated. "Passed away. I really don't think it was a suicide, and you're really smart, so I thought you could help. "

As Logan opened his mouth to respond, Roman stepped out of the room. "C'mon Pat, take the drink. I'll...I'll help you with the investigation."

As he passed Patton the hot chocolate, Roman never noticed the glare that had been shot at him by Logan. Instead, he was giving Patton an encouraging smile. Perhaps they could move on together. It'd be hard but it would be easier with a friend.

Logan narrowed his eyes even more. He knew exactly what Roman was planning. It was so obvious, with that fake smile and lies. He was trying to steal Patton away from him! Another plan formed in his mind.

Beaming towards Roman, Patton's eyes briefly shone with happiness. "Thank you so much, Ro! You're the best! "

That's what triggered him. Clenching his fists, Logan gritted his teeth. "Roman, could I… speak to you in private? "

The princely man tilted his head curiously, before shrugging and following Logan inside, leaving Patton by himself.

"I don't like how close you are with my Patton. " Logan stated simply after Roman closed the door behind him.

He was returned with a confused expression. "Wha- your Patton?"

The bespectacled man stepped forward, fists clenched. "Yes. He is mine, and I don't like it when people try to take away my things." By now, Roman was backed into a wall and he had his hands up in surrender.

"I… I just want to help him get over Virgil's suicide. " He protested. Logan chuckled darkly, before picking up a penknife from his desk top.

" What suicide? " He asked, finger delicately tracing the tip of the knife. Roman's eyes widened.

"You… you… .you killed him! " He gasped, before pushing Logan backwards. Logan stumbled, then leaped forward and pushed Roman back against the wall.

His knife traced Roman's lips. "What pretty lips. Would be a shame if I cut them out. " He paused.

"Though I would like to torture you slowly, my love is waiting outside the door. "

The only thing Roman did was scream. " He killed V! He-" A slash of the throat interrupted his yelling.

Patton burst into the room. "Wha- who killed V?" Stopping in his tracks, his eyes surveyed the scene in front of him, from Logan holding a knife to Roman's slumped body on the floor.

He stared at Logan in horror. "What... What did you do Logan? What did you do to them?" There was a quiver in Patton's voice as he stumbled back from the man in front of him. He had already suspected something odd was happening, but the proof in front of him was undeniable.

"It's simple. " Came the nonchalant reply, "I killed them. "

Patton trembled in his spot as he attempted a confident facade. "What are you… you going to do now? Kill me?"

Logan walked towards him, before caressing his cheek gently. "Kill you? I would never hurt you, Precious. Don't you see? I got rid of all the threats that stood between us. That emo and that silly prince. Now, we can be together. You can finally be mine. "

Patton pushed Logan away, shaking his head. "I'm not yours Logan. This isn't right. "

Logan chuckled darkly once again. "Oh precious, you don't have a choice. You are mine. "

#yandere #logan sanders #Patton sanders #Roman sanders #Virgil Sanders #murder #Logicality #Prinxiety #dark #writing #fanfiction

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kimmyiewrites · 4 years

Text

Case Closed ~ Chpt 10

Previous Story Catch Up Masterlist

AN: So let's just say I'll never actually be on a schedule because clearly no matter my intentions, it doesn't work out that way. I've got two more chapters written after this one and a third possibly halfway through. We'll see cause we are truly into following along with the Braindead episodes now. So without further ado, enjoy this next chapter!

Bex traipsed down her stairs, making her way to her car so she could head into work. She had lunch plans with Rochelle to get the evidence later and the morning was hers besides the quick briefing with the team working the case on the inside of the bureau. Dinner with Mike had been amazing. Just reminiscing about it had put her in a good mood once she woke up.

They had decided on something a little more casual which meant they both left their blazers in the car. Mike also ditched the tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt before rolling up the sleeves. Bex honestly could have just dragged him home right then. Instead, she placed a kiss to his cheek before looping her arm with his as they walked into the restaurant.

It was one of the places he frequented before he went back to Graceland. According to Mike, it was the best pizza in the DC area. The moment Bex took a bite, she wholeheartedly agreed. "How did I not know of this place before?" She asked in the middle of her second bite.

Mike chuckled. "Clearly I'm more of a pizza connoisseur than you are." He teased her.

She smiled at the memory and at how before they went their separate ways, he gave her a kiss goodbye that left her both breathless and wanting more. She didn't mind taking things at a slow pace. She enjoyed truly getting to know Mike. Sure the kissing was nice and she'd be more than happy to share a bed with him but her past relationships had been solely for work or purely physical. She hadn't explored a relationship where she had more than that type of connection in a long time and it thrilled her.

Just as she unlocked her car door, her phone began to ring. Seeing that it was Mike, a smile lit up her face before she answered it. "Good morning."

"Good morning." He replied. "I know we just had dinner last night and if we lived lives outside of the Bureau my friends would tell me it's far too soon to call and ask you on a coffee date and your friends would call me a clinger but I would call you anyway like I'm doing now and I'm hoping that you'll still say yes."

Bex giggled. "I still say yes. Where do you want to meet? I'm about to head in, now."

"Well, here's the thing, I'm turning on your street now and I've already picked up the coffee." He sounded sheepish.

That caused her to laugh as she locked her car. "You know, this is getting into stalker territory." She teased him.

"Would you accept that I'm trying to look out for you?" He asked as he pulled into her apartment complex parking lot.

"I would but I thought we had covered how I'm quite capable of taking care of myself." She waved when she saw his car before hanging up.

Once she was situated in the passenger seat, Mike drove off and continued their conversation. "I know. It's just I've heard some chatter and if Onofrio talked to his people about your involvement, I'm just worried about some measures they could potentially take since they can get pretty extreme."

Bex had picked up the coffee cup and took a sip, smiling at how it was her regular order. "Then I guess I can allow it." She reached over and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. "Thanks for the mocha, by the way."

"You're welcome." He smiled over at her. "So, what do you have planned for today?"

"Briefing this morning and then lunch with Rochelle then my afternoon is open. How about you?"

"I will probably be dealing with the aftermath of yesterday. If you feel compelled to come save me after your lunch I would greatly appreciate it." He chuckled.

She laughed as well, nodding her agreement. "You got it."

Once they reached the Bureau's office building, Bex leaned over and gave him a quick kiss goodbye. "Thanks for the ride."

Mike smiled. "Don't mention it. I'll see ya later."

"Bye." She gave him another kiss before making her way into the office.

She headed to her desk first, putting all of her things down. She then grabbed what she would need for the briefing and her coffee cup before making her way to Marchant's office. "Morning, Director." She greeted as she stepped inside, taking a seat from across his desk.

"Morning, Morris. Let's talk about yesterday, shall we?" He asked, leaning back in his seat, hands folded over his stomach.

"Which part, sir? The one where we nearly used torture on an innocent woman or the fact that high frequency signals can cause senators to run into walls or raise both of their arms?" She raised an eyebrow in a 'don't think I forgot' fashion.

Marchant let out a sigh. "You say innocent but she's been linked to so many incidents."

"Important to the investigation, does not mean guilty and you know it. Miss Healy has some rotten luck but she's further along in the investigation you first sent Warren to look into."

"So what happened at the hearing? And how does that prove our Area 51 case?"

"I honestly think you should just call in one of their agents, director. I'm going to meet with Rochelle at lunch to get all of their evidence. I also need to speak with the doctor they contacted at the CDC. Because what happened yesterday was practically the icing on the cake. They recorded some of the infected persons communication and played it back in parts which caused the running into walls and hand raising. The creatures inside the infected communicate via high frequencies that human ears can't normally detect."

The director pinched the bridge of his nose. "The guys out in Nevada are going to have a field day. So what she said about bug people..." He trailed off, not really wanting to believe it.

"Bugs have eaten people's brains, yeah, and they're causing the head explosions. The bugs were in the meteor and they're infecting people but no one's really sure as to why."

"That's your new objective then. Find out why they're doing this and then I'll reach out to my contact out in Nevada. Keep me updated, Morris. That'll be all."

Bex stood with a nod and made her way to her desk. She didn't want to focus on the craziness that Mike's case was at the moment. She had a few things she knew she needed to wrap up with the case involving her sister's killer. Mostly paperwork so she put on a coffee shop playlist and started typing things up in her report while sipping on the rest of her mocha.

Just as she was about to go to her next page, her phone started ringing. She briefly looked over to see that it was a name on the caller id instead of a random number so she answered it. "This is Bex."

"Hey Bex! Can we reschedule lunch?" Rochelle asked.

"Yeah, sure. Is everything alright?"

"Laurel stopped by and told us that Senator Wheatus saw us leaving the hearing yesterday and Gareth isn't sure what he's going to do."

Bex saved her report and started packing up. Sure, she could probably easily take Onofrio but she would rather not have to deal with HR. "What if I came to you instead? Strength in numbers and all that."

"I'd like that. I'll send you my address. See you soon."

With that they both hung up and Bex closed everything down. As she waited for her Uber ride, she called Mike. "Is my cover blown? Do I need to be on alert too?"

"I would just in case. Oh, I gotta go, mom. I'll talk to you later." Mike hung up practically as soon as Red stepped back into his office.

It didn't exactly put Bex at ease but she was a trained professional. She knew how to defend herself and how to fight. When the Uber arrived, she slid into the backseat, confirming the address and was soon being let out at the First District Apartments.

She went to knock on Rochelle's door when she noticed that it was open a crack. Bex pulled her gun and slipped inside. When she came to the spot where the floor plan opened up, she looked over to the kitchen where she saw Rochelle give the ending blow with a frozen turkey leg to some guy.

The other woman looked up, seeing Bex just as she was lowering her gun. "Call the others and I'll help you get everything sorted. Nice moves by the way." The agent said with a smile, going back to lock the door.

"I don't know if Laurel will be available." Rochelle said as she dragged the intruder over to one of the support poles in her apartment.

"Why not?" Bex hurried over and helped stand the man up and prop him against the pole.

There was a knock on the door then and Rochelle answered as she went to open it. "Because there's a possibility her dad is infected."

Bex shook her head, her heart heavy for the woman. She really was having the worst luck when it came to this whole situation.

The trio soon had the intruder taped to the pole. Gustav placed a helmet on top of the intruder's head to keep him from sending out any communication. Bex was in the kitchen with Rochelle, helping her clean up and tend to the box cutter wound that had been left on her arm. It luckily wasn't deep enough to warrant stitches but with the help of Rochelle's direction things would turn out okay and hopefully not scar.

When Gustav started questioning him and Rochelle checked his ears, Bex stayed back and watched, looking for any signs that he could be lying. Then again she was unsure if the intruder would have any of the same tells if it was true that half his brain was gone. Either way, he was very convincing.

"What do you think?" Rochelle asked as the trio huddled together.

"He's really convincing. I can't say for sure but I can call in my police contact if you'd like to press charges." Bex said. "That's the one thing he's been right about, they probably should get involved. This is starting to go against everything I signed up for when I joined the Bureau."

"Can we try a couple more things?" Gustav asked. "If we let him go and he is a bug person then we might be in more trouble than before."

Rochelle looked at Bex with a look that said what harm could be done. Bex let out a sigh and agreed. Soon "You Might Think" was playing but they put it on backwards. A knock was heard and Rochelle called out that the door was open. Laurel walked in, confused about what was happening.

"What are you doing?" She finally asked.

"It's "You Might Think" played backwards." Rochelle answered.

The intruder looked to Laurel, hoping that she would be sensible enough to help him. "Gustav is seeing what will work on him." She continued to explain.

Laurel looked to Bex. "You seriously can't be okay with this?"

"It's not one of my best decisions, but honestly I think we should call this thing off. It's clearly not working."

Gustav shook his head at Bex's answer, disagreeing completely. "No, we need to figure out what the bug people want!"

"And I agree, it's what I've been tasked to do but this isn't the way to do it." Bex argued.

Laurel sighed and turned to Gustav. "He's denying he's infected, right?"

"Yes, but he would." Gustav answered.

"So how are you gonna get him to talk?" Laurel asked.

"Can we put on some better music?" The intruder spoke up which caused Gustav to jump into action with the box cutter the intruder used before.

All three women raced over to pull Gustav away as he threatened to cut the intruder's fingers off if he didn't give them the answers they wanted. Rochelle and Laurel were on either side of him and Bex came around to get the box cutter out of his hand.

"We need to call this now. I'm going to let him go." She said, stepping back towards the intruder.

"Bex, no, he's not gonna talk to us unless we threaten him." Gustav argued.

"I think you should listen to your friend." The intruder commented.

Bex turned to look at him with a pointed look. "We don't need comments from the peanut gallery."

"Why don't we just find out who this guy is instead? You would need that for a report, right?" Laurel turned to Bex.

"Yeah and there's nothing wrong with doing a little extra research."

"So, see, there we go. Now, about my dad." Laurel said, informing the group what she had witnessed. When Rochelle mentioned him stopping sex, Laurel gathered her things and set out to find her dad's mistress.

Gustav set to digging around in the bag that he had brought over and pulled out a small bottle of three year old whiskey. "Bex, you might want to go somewhere else for this next bit."

"You know I can get you arrested also, don't do it."

"Listen to her please. I'm in AA. I'm two years sober." The intruder pleaded.

"Where's your chip?" Rochelle asked.

"Oh, my sobriety chip, I must have left it in my other clothes." He quipped.

Bex just shook her head. How stupid could he be to answer in such a way? The moment Bex wasn't watching Gustav and Rochelle poured the whiskey down the intruder's throat. Her phone began to ring then. Seeing that it was Mike, she stepped away and answered it.

"Please tell me you're having a better day than I am." He said as soon as she picked up.

"I actually don't know if I can properly answer that question." Bex replied. "What's going on?"

Mike let out a small sigh. "I think Red is up to something. His latest witness for this committee meeting is lying. And I'm beginning to really hate that this is taking so long."

"Have we entered into an alien bug version of Independence Day?" She asked with a small laugh.

Her question got the reaction she was looking for and she smiled when she heard Mike laugh as well. "It certainly seems that way. What have you got going on?"

"A not so legal questioning. I don't know if I'm aiding in it or stopping it because no one seems to be listening to me."

Mike took a deep breath. He had done plenty of not so legal things while out in California but to hear Bex admit it he wasn't sure if he was relieved someone was finally telling him the truth or be worried.

"The person did attack Rochelle and is possibly infected so, I'm not really sure if that helps or hurts my case." She had continued until she realized that Mike was silent on the other end. "Mike? You okay? Should I have not told you?"

That pulled him out of his thoughts. "No, no. I'm glad you told me. I would rather you tell me than keep it hidden honestly." His thoughts drifted to Paige and Briggs. "Should I come over?"

Bex shook her head even if he couldn't see her. "No. Gareth can't really help because he doesn't know yet. Why don't I come see you instead? You should also probably contact Laurel so she can let her brother know about the witness."

"Yeah, I'd like that. See you soon then?"

"See you soon." Bex promised before hanging up.

#mike warren fic #mike warren imagine #gareth ritter fic #gareth ritter imagine #braindead fic #graceland fic #criminal minds fic #crossover fic #mike warren #gareth ritter #case closed #moving on series #mike x bex #kim writes things

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dreamsparkle · 5 years

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Sensualist Wells

For HarriscoFest2019 and the prompt Sensualist Wells.

Sensualist (noun) -

A person devoted to physical, especially sexual, pleasure.

Cisco Ramon / Harry Wells

NC-17 / NSFW

Dub!con kinda

This is my understanding of the prompt so sorry if I misunderstood. :) Please keep negativity to yourself please.

Harry's mind has always behaved like a well oiled machine. Nothing had ever slowed it down.

Not even Tess. Being near her made his brain work twice as fast. He wanted so much to impress her, not just with his equations and designs but with his plans for the future, to make her happy for as long as he is able.

Not even Jesse. Her first smile as a baby and his brain didn't stutter once. Instead it spread out every conceivable threat that could possibly harm this little treasure and how to neutralise it in an instant. He knew he would die rather than let anyone hurt a hair on her head.

But then there was Cisco. And he seemed to strangely have a different effect. Cisco was like an error in fluid code. To look at any part of him trapped Harry in a loop with no exit.

He would be working on a design and be distracted by a flick of satin, black curls. His gaze drawn over against his will to trace along the pretty slopes that Cisco had so carefully crafted.

It was just hair. Harry told himself annoyed. Everyone had it. In fact Iris had some that was very similar and he never found himself looking at her hair in any special way.

And instead of working, he found himself, for the next hour, trying to identify using logic what the difference was. Why Cisco's hair caught his attention when Iris' didn't.

Why when he followed the curve around Cisco's ear he felt the strange bliss of taking a gentle turn in a car on a scenic ride and that beautiful sense of gliding.

---

Cisco wasn't exactly special to look at. Among even his group of friends, Harry doubted in a survey anyone would place him at the top in terms of looks. Even Cisco himself.

Yet Harry kept looking, despite logic.

If pressed, he would have to say Cisco's eyes were the most captivating part of him, if anything. Though he wouldn't be able to confirm why.

They were brown, like the majority of people. Not especially large or small. If he were being unscientific he could compare them to chocolate. Not necessarily the color, though that too, but mainly the texture. That soft solid that melts under your touch. Cisco's eyes were soft and so much kinder than Harry deserved.

With that apt metaphor stored away he tried to get back to work. But now he had given himself a craving and he really wanted something soft and sweet, that melted.

Not something he eats very often. He doesn't really have feelings for the candy either way but he really wanted some now.

He went over to Cisco's secret stash, relieved he wasn't in the lab today. Underneath a pack of twizzlers and between two lollipops was a Hershey.

He brought it back to his desk and stared at it for a moment. Wondering where his sanity had left him. Still he opened it. Put a piece in his mouth. And rather than just chew it, he tried to savour it, for once.

It was soft; rapidly disappearing on his tongue. Turning creamy at the edges. He swallowed down the excess. Sugar so sweet, it was making his mouth water. He licked at what nub of chocolate was left and was overcome with the sudden idea of how it much better it would taste coming off of mocha colored skin.

Harry inhaled the last bit in alarm, refusing to finish that thought. Knowing where it led. His cheeks were burning and he was left with a bitter taste in his mouth. He shoved the rest of the chocolate bar in his desk drawer out of sight. Easier then to erase the memory.

His heart was beating too fast and he was shamefully turned on. The feeling buzzing under his skin, painful and unwanted.

He stood up and went for a walk. Some Big Belly Burger might get rid of this leftover flavor.

---

Cisco was glaring at him. He'd probably correctly guessed who had stolen his chocolate and was showing how he knew by displaying a lollipop between two lips.

Joke was on him. Cisco's lips were sinful. Harry couldn't really deny that. Harry had thin chapped lips while Cisco's were like peaches and so easily turned red.

A full grown man should not be eating a lollipop.

He was so unashamed about it. Harry supposed everyone he met liked him too much to pick on him for it. And it didn't look remotely feminine like Harry would have guessed. In fact, when he was hacking for the Flash with fervor and that lollipop stick swung from one side of his mouth to the other so he could speak, Harry was reluctantly reminded of a cowboy with a toothpick clenched between unbroken enamel, all ready to fire.

He wasn't even putting on a show, really. It was a lollipop. He was eating it. End of story. Like he had no idea.

He probably didn't. Cisco. So modest. So unassuming. It irritated Harry to no end because Cisco was brilliant. So utterly mind blowingly beyond expectation. And he received less than a tenth of the recognition that he rightfully deserved.

He fought for credit when it came to who named the meta of the week. But single handedly discovering the plan to stop said meta in his tracks and it was suddenly all blushes and "Team effort, guys."

Harry despised it.

The lollipop taunted him too. Stupid to be jealous. Yet he wanted to lick into that mouth and drag along his tongue, all dance like. Cisco's oral fixation was evident a mile wide. Harry bet his mouth was super sensitive. He bet if he sucked on one of those lips just right Cisco would shudder against him.

The real Cisco, instead, was reading something boring. His eyes were staring far off into the screen, expression blank while he rolled the lollipop over the tip of his pointed tongue. Truly bored then.

Harry broke to temptation and walked over before he could talk himself out of it. He pushed the hand holding the lollipop out of the way.

"Harry, what?" Cisco said shocked as Harry leaned closer.

"May I?" He asked but not giving anytime to respond, licked his way into Cisco's mouth. The younger man breathed in shocked but didn't stop him. Maybe too surprised.

He immediately chased the taste of cherry. He captured Cisco's tongue and sucked on it like a treat. The noise Cisco made then was distressed but he still didn't move to push Harry away. Nor did he move closer.

His fingers found themselves twined in those sooty strands. And then he was kissing down from his mouth. His teeth biting into Cisco's jawline. Not too hard but hard enough Cisco maked a choked sound.

He pulled back. Cisco's eyes were open and so shocked. His mouth red from abuse and bite mark stood out sharply. He was so fucking hot and Harry could try and explain it forever but Harry knew his attraction wasn't normal. He shouldn't be this affected by a kiss.

Even now all he could think about was kissing him again and not complex plans on how that could come about. But thoughts of flashes of the heat under plush lips. Harry's fingers followed the curve from buttery soft hair down the warm skin of his neck. Cisco shivered.

He forced himself to let go, then stepped back. He escaped the room as quick as he could. Cisco only attempt to stop him a soft, "Harry."

---

Cisco gave up trying to mention the kiss after the third time Harry changed the topic. Though he kept watching Harry now and that was bad because Harry was still getting lost in thought about the most beautiful parts of him. He was quickly discovering that was every part of him.

His hand wrapped around a mug. A wicked quirk of an eyebrow. A flash of dorky teeth. A flamboyant wave of an arm to express a point.

Those arms were gonna be the death of him. The cheap cotton of his comic shirts riding up over his belly and becoming tight over his upper arms as he stretched. Harry just wanted to touch. Wanted to get rid of that rough fabric and replace it with something deserving like silk.

---

Harry was working on something, for once not distracted because Cisco had gone to the lake for a picnic with the rest of the team. Harry hadn’t even seen him today and he was able to get on with some blessed projects he’d been procrastinating on.

That was turned on its head when late afternoon Cisco portalled into the lab and he was drenched through. Still dripping water from whatever had flooded him.

"Don't laugh." Cisco threatened when he saw him. "And no comments. Barry and Caitlin have already made plenty. Thank you."

Like Harry's reaction would be to laugh at this.

Cisco's clothes were plastered to him. His tiny white shorts were all but see through and dripping water droplets down thick thighs. Harry felt so parched. He swallowed painfully, mouth drier than a desert.

As Cisco left, Harry found himself following, almost compelled. He'd caught up and pressed Cisco against the wall to stop him. This time, Cisco was no longer surprised and kissed back right from the start.

Harry's brain was focused on other things rather than kissing. He licked a droplet from Cisco's throat then sucked hard to get whatever had already sucken beneath the skin. He tasted a bit like salt. Cisco gasped so prettily.

"This is what gets you back to that place again, seriously?" Cisco complained. He writhed as Harry's burning hot hands raised his shirt folded it up so he could feel the bottom of his stomach. The shirt stuck together so easily from being so wet. And Harry's hands were on his hips.

Then Harry was kneeling.

"Harry." Cisco said shocked.

The hands down to his thighs and his mouth replaced them on his stomach. Sucking a spot shiny with water. Cisco felt dizzy from the flush as all the blood in his body flooded down.

Those fingers gripped his thighs. Harry admired the give of them. Felt the give of them with his tongue and teeth as Cisco cried out above him.

Hands were in his hair, yanking. But he wasn't about to be torn away from what he had been fantasizing about for months. Not when Cisco was responding so beautifully.

He pressed his entire face against that reaction that was tenting Cisco's shorts. Sucked more water from that wet, white fabric. Mouthing at what was hard and purely Cisco underneath. Because he wasn't wearing boxers. Of course he didn't. Why would he wish to help Harry's sanity any.

He was basically holding Cisco up now. His knees had gone weak and Harry was holding him against the wall by his grip on his thighs alone. He couldn't let go.

So instead he almost broke his teeth undoing the top button of those shorts with his mouth. But it was worth it because now he got access to all that bare skin.

Cisco's cock rose to meet him. Mesmerising by the way it twitched. He pressed a long open mouthed kiss along the side of it. Cisco was making noise. Harry wasn't sure if it was English, Spanish or something not so comprehensible.

Dragging his tongue up the hot and hard silky skin, he wanted to suck. Lined up his mouth and sunk down. Smelled salty, musky. He was almost drooling from how much his mouth watered.

Sucking and swallowing around Cisco's cock felt incredible and he didn't stop even when he felt Cisco try and squirm away from him.

He understood when his mouth was suddenly filled as Cisco cum.

Cisco almost fell over and Harry put one hand on his chest to and the other under arm under his bum to hold him up. He didn't release Cisco's cock and continued sucking until the younger really started struggling.

When Harry let go Cisco slid down the wall to the floor and when that wasn't far enough, wiggled to lying down on his back because he didn't have any energy or will to hold himself up anymore.

Which was fine with Harry. The view was fantastic. Cisco's hair was fanned out like an ink spill. Eyes closed and red lips gasping. Tight shorts were stuck with water halfway down his thighs and his shirt was still rucked up revealing his belly button. His cock spent leading up to it.

Unable to resist touching, he went for the area of stomach on show, thinking it was the least offensive to Cisco's overwrought senses right now. But was proven wrong when Cisco flinched and a hand pushed him away.

"Harrrryy!" He whined. "Knock it off." He pursed his lips in annoyance and Harry decided to take it as an invitation. Pressed a gentle kiss there.

Cisco didn't look annoyed at that but he looked vulnerable. Like he was trying to figure Harry out.

"You're perfect." Harry told him. It hurt Cisco's modesty and self depreciation of course. He could see it in the slight frown that formed. He wasn't accepting Harry's words anytime soon. But touching him was addictive so hopefully, maybe, he would be allowed to do more of that.

---

Cisco asked some questions, Harry answered as simply and awkwardly as he could and now they were allowed to kiss…and other things too.

Just not at Star Labs.

That was fine. Harry could be patient but honestly as soon as they were at Cisco's place he would touch as soon as he was allowed. He was so horny all the time and he didn't know how long Cisco would allow this to go on before realising he could do better so he was taking full advantage.

He had to fight Cisco every time. The engineer wasn't used to the attention. Tried to make things equal. That Harry got the same attention too. Like Harry wasn't and hadn't always been a selfish bastard. As he sucked a hickey into a rather generous bubble butt, wondered how anyone could imagine he was getting the short stick out of this deal.

Cisco always caved in first. Once Harry had touched, tasted every part of him and he was raw like a string close to breaking from too many orgasms, Harry did his best to stop his compulsion and just held him close and breathed in the scent from his skin. But it was hard. Even after he was satisfied. Because it wasn't just about sex. It was about comfort.

Trailing patterns over his skin while he slept. Feeling the slight rises on each breath. His mind jumped at being caught by these slight things. No calculations left to be made but his mind still found it endlessly fascinating. Instead of thought it gave way, for once, to feeling…

...and what he felt was happy.

#harrisco #@heckyeahharrisco #cisco ramon #harry wells #the flash #prompt fill #harriscofest2019

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sheithfictioncatalogue · 5 years

Note

Hi there! I’m new to fandom and after reading a few fics I’m completely in love with long-suffering BFF Matt. Is there a tag for that, or do you have any recs? Thank you!

Oh boy, anon, this is a goldmine of an ask. There are so many of these, but here’s a few to start out with.

backflipped right into my heart - arahir @arahir

ongoing, 9/? chapters, 29k. (Mature).

Matt bears witness to the greatest tragedy of the modern age.

Shiro is staring at the kid, open-mouthed, and there’s not a trace of humor in it.

“Parkour?” Shiro asks, managing to sound fascinated.

“Yeah.” The kid brushes the bangs out of his eyes, suave-like. “Parkour.”

Katie. This kid has never done parkour in his life. He wouldn’t know parkour if it did a back flip off a building and suplexed him in an alley.

You Mocha Me Crazy - lasersheith @lasersheith

10k. (Teen). Contains: background Lance/Matt.

Shiro needs to find a new gym. On his quest, he finds a new favorite coffee shop, and maybe even a new boyfriend (if Matt has anything to say about it).

“Ooh, someone’s fancy today. Big meeting?” Matt asked as he grabbed a Red Bull from the fridge and cracked it open.

Shiro was impressed that he didn’t grimace at the sharp taste so early in the morning. “Yeah, I have to present at the quarterly review,” he shrugged, “it should go fine, I just can’t get my stupid tie right.”

Matt chuckled and set his drink next to Shiro’s on the breakfast bar, raising an eyebrow at the cup before turning to pull apart the awful job Shiro had done with his tie. He smoothed out the crumbled ends and adjusted them for length before looping them around and through each other in a standard half-windsor knot.

“So did you get his number?” Matt asked with a smile as he patted the knot, deeming it presentable.

Shiro blinked at him in confusion. “Get whose number?”

Matt shook his head. “Whoever drew this.” He grabbed Shiro’s cup and spun it around.

Like a Record Baby - CGotAnAccount @illunelurks

12k. (Mature).

Thirty-seven.

That’s the number of individual sweat droplets that have wound their way around and down the spin instructor’s neck, across his collarbone, and through the pecs Shiro could see beneath the gaping tank top he wore.

a little far gone - redluxite (wordstruck) @redluxite

2k. (Teen).

Keith walks in at the usual time in the morning. Matt simply turns to Shiro and says, “switch with me”, before abruptly hauling his friend to stand in front of the register before Shiro can even ask why.

He then proceeds to make the most complicated coffee order he can imagine, for no one in particular.

Shiro has no idea what is going on until he turns to the counter and spots Keith on the other side.

Or, Matt and Shiro part-time as baristas at the campus coffee shop, and Shiro thinks Keith is cute.

Not-Dating - Kalira @kalira9

1k. (Teen).

Matt really wishes Shiro and Keith would just go on their date-not-a-date and leave him and his impending nervous breakdown over finals alone together.

A Glass Raised in Botherhood - lasersheith @lasersheith

2k. (Teen).

Making a documentary about team Voltron seemed like a good idea at the time, but Ryan quickly discovers that it might have been more trouble than it was worth. At least he has Matt to suffer with him. Ryan starts fast forwarding again and Matt sighs as Shiro starts his interview. “How long did Keith go on?” His voice is tired, weak.“Eleven minutes,” Ryan replies flatly, preparing the coup de grace that Matt can feel coming from a mile away.“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath, draining what’s left of his beer. Ryan hits play and does the same.

-Alex

#Anonymous #sheith #sheith fanfic #sheith fanfiction #voltron #vld #voltron legendary defender #voltron fanfic #fic rec #recs #this trope? a blessing #sufferingmatt #wingman #humor #mutualpining #disastergayshiro #disastergaykeith #crack #wingmanmatt

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xtheseviolentdelightsx · 4 years

Text

Out Of The Blue

Chapter 1: Mornings at the No Doze Cafe

One of Blue’s favorite things in the entire world was her ability to walk into the No Doze coffee shop at five a.m. every…single…morning and have a mocha waiting on the counter for her with the name Doc lovingly scribbled on the side, along with her usual everything bagel and cup of yogurt. It was a truly beautiful way to start the day even when the days stretched out so long that they ran into one another.

“Morning Ash.”

She greeted her best friend with a warm smile, and no she wasn’t her best friend just because she happened to be a caffeine dealer.

“Morning Blue.”

Ashley smiled back as she looked up from stocking the front display case with decadent pastries in an array of colors that just made you kind of happy to look at.

Blue was convinced that heaven itself had sent Ashley to her in the form of a freshman roommate at Harvard. Ash was her first true friend and over time had become her sister by choice. Like many of her overachieving classmates Ash had opted their junior year to start her own business while still attending classes. Her valiant attempt at a coffee empire came in the form of the No Doze café which had inevitably become their new home. Blue had spent as many hours studying here as she had at the library and had drank her weight in coffee a rather embarrassing amount of times. Now that Blue was in the second year of her residency program she didn’t get to spend as much time here as she would like and found herself seriously missing quality time with Ash.

“What’s today Blue?”

Ash was looking her up and down, openly assessing her appearance.

“Day one.”

Blue stifled a yawn.

“I knew you looked a little less like the walking dead. How many hours last week?”

“One hundred and eight.”

Blue tugged at her chestnut curls in order to tighten her ponytail.

“It’s the scrubs that gave it away, right? The fact that they’re clean?” She snarked, green eyes glittering with amusement.

“Is this primitive torture really necessary in this day and age? I thought hazing was illegal or at least seriously frowned upon and it just seems like an awful kind of hazing. I launched a business while going to school and worked less hours.”

Ash leaned her hip against the counter, arms folded, the picture of indignation on Blue’s behalf.

It touched Blue’s heart that Ash worried about her health and well-being, she’d never had that before, someone to care and it meant the world to her.

“You’re not wrong. I’m not sure how performing medicine while propping yourself up by IV stand is a good idea but some traditions refuse to die, no matter how many times you try to stab them to death. Some ass of a Doctor probably resuscitated the tradition while it was trying to bleed out.” She finished with a half shrug and a grin.

“Only one more year, right?”

“Four hundred and eighty-three days, not that I’m counting.”

The quiet laughter behind her made Blue turn.

“Oh, my apologies, didn’t mean to hold y’all up.”

“No hurry. I think you might need your caffeine fix more than we do Doc and that’s saying something.” The striking man smirked at her.

“Morning coffee buddy.”

“Thanks Clint, that means a lot coming from you. I know your coffee habits, I live them. Good morning.” Blue grinned and turned back to pick up her order. As she grabbed her coffee Ashley planted a kiss on her cheek.

“Good luck, try to fit in some sleep.”

“Yes mom,” Blue replied affectionately.

Ashley and Blue were used to the Avengers coming in at this point, they’d become regulars over the course of the last year. Even though they were daily flyers, Blue and Ash privately agreed that what they’d never adjust to was just how beautiful the heroes were in person. It was obnoxious really; genetics did not play fair.

Clint was the most frequent patron, often in multiple times a day. Sam, Steve and the rather intimidating Sergeant Barnes were in most mornings after their run. Others were less predictable. They figured it had to be a mix of the good coffee and the distance that brought them in, they were less likely to run into reporters or fans here. Whatever their reasons, every single damn one of them looked like a cover model and had the audacity to look that good whether it was five in the morning or midnight. On the days Blue drug herself in feeling like a certified zombie, that was seriously annoying, particularly as two of them tended to make her heart beat a little faster and she sure as hell didn’t have time for any of that nonsense.

Blue fell into the comfy, overstuffed chair at her favorite table. She then engaged in the last part of her morning ritual where she tuned out the world and spent exactly twenty free, joyous minutes reading something that was neither for school nor work. It was always a mystery novel of some flavor and this weeks was Hardcore Twenty-Four by Janet Evonivich. Interruptions to this beloved ritual were rare but this morning the quiet clearing of a throat caused her to look up.

“My apologies mam.”

Came in the form of a low rumble that threatened to make her toes curl. Blue knew he wasn’t an Angel but when she looked up at Steve Rogers, it was just a very little bit like looking into heavenly light.

“Hi Steve. What’s up?” Came out of her mouth but her internal monologue was busy running off the rails… “I am almost done with med school. I absolutely do not have time to date. He isn’t interested anyways; he’s just being nice. He’s really so very nice and kind and it would be so easy to talk to him…BUT every woman in the world probably throws themselves at his feet, with good reason, but I can do better than that, be better. I can be his friend. My pulse is not racing, my eyes will not dilate and the dopamine in my system will stay put. Friends are good. Be cool Blue.”

“Is it any good?” He gestured to the book. “I’ve picked up a couple I’ve seen you with but realized as a connoisseur it… well it would be nice to get your opinion before I bought them.” He finished with a smile and a small shrug.

“Mystery fan?” Did he just admit that he’d been watching her for weeks? That can’t be right. It’s just a coincidence, they frequent the same coffee shop, they both love mysteries. He was noticing her books not her.

Steve nodded. “I love a good read.”

Blue canted her head to the side. “You know…I never go back to them. Why don’t I just pass on the good ones when I finish one?” See she could be a good friend, that was definitely an offer a friend would make.

“Are you sure? I mean that would be really great, I would seriously appreciate it.”

He ran a hand through his hair and Blue could almost swear it was a nervous gesture. That was a funny thought though, him nervous talking to a little street waif like her, highly unlikely. On the other hand, if she were standing right now, her knees would maybe be a little weak.

“Mhhmm, no problem, I’d be happy to.” Blue gave him a small smile as if it was no big, keeping her façade of cool, at least she hoped that’s what it looked like.

“Anything else?”

Steve grinned, shook his head no and made a small huff that was almost a laugh. “No Doc. I truly look forward to it, thank you.” He knew when he’d been dismissed.

Blue nodded not quite clear on what was so funny. “Have a good day Mr. Rogers.”

Steve winced. “Steve, please. Mr. Rogers makes me sound like I host a children’s tv show.”

Blue’s eyebrows raised in confusion. “Huh?”

“No TV allowed in Blue’s house growing up Steve. Blue there was a Mr. Rogers who hosted a famous children’s TV show. Good stuff, you’d like it actually.” Ash interjected, swooping to her rescue.

“No TV, probably why she’s a Doctor and I’m slinging coffee.”

“Oh please.” Blue laughed as she exchanged a grateful glance with Ash.

Steve’s face lit up. “Someone else who is as woefully under educated about pop culture as I am? I didn’t think it was possible.”

Blue simply shrugged in response and her eyes moved back to the page of her book so she could mask her embarrassment. She hated feeling so out of the loop, but her lack of pop culture education often left her feeling that way. Steve took that as his cue to leave. Because she wasn’t watching she missed the amused glances shot back and forth between Steve, Clint and Sergeant Barnes at her not so subtle dismissal.

The small interruption had the unfortunate side effect of killing her focus and Blue’s mind naturally started the predictable slide into work mode. Ten minutes later when her alarm went off, she was still on the same page. With a sigh she tucked her bagel into her bag, it was a habit she couldn’t shake, always carrying extra food with her. Then she shouldered the bag, picked up her trash and headed out the door. As the shop door closed behind her it set off the happy tingle of the shop bell which covered the sound of Clint’s bemused laughter.

“Poor Steve, all the women in the world falling all over you and the one you finally decide on is utterly oblivious.” Clint goo-naturedly ribbed his friend.

“Hey Ashley, you don’t think she’s aware and just playing hard to get?” Clint was kind of dying to know.

Ash bit back a laugh. “No. Her focus is laser about getting through med school. I’ve known her for six years and she hasn’t been on a single date, as far as I know. Blue’s on scholarship and takes it seriously, she has to considering her circumstances. Excuse me for a sec guys.” Ashley stepped back into the kitchen as an oven timer began to ring.

“Steve’s never had game.” Bucky spoke softly as he squeezed his partner’s arm just above the elbow. As Ash had stepped away and it was just the three of them, he laid a tender kissed on his lips. “I find it endearing.” Bucky watched fondly as a blush climbed up Steve’s neck. “He does have excellent taste though.”

Steve shook his head and grinned. “It’s refreshing, honestly. She’s not any different with us than with anyone else I expect. I wonder what Ash meant about her circumstances?”

“Not sure but she just might be worth the wait. Poor woman doesn’t know what’s about to hit her if you are both intent on pursuing her.” Clint mused.

Steve gave Bucky a questioning look. Bucky pressed a kiss to his forehead and murmured softly. “She’s lovely, don’t give up. I’m looking forward to our first date.”

Bucky’s recovery had come a long way since Steve had saved him but in public he still preferred to let Steve take the lead and do the talking. He remembered how things were before, how he used to be the ladies’ man, but he wasn’t that person anymore, never would be again. Steve loves him anyways and that is far more than he deserves. Steve’s happiness is paramount to him, so he’d noticed Steve’s interest in the young Doctor before Steve was even aware of it.

He’d given the situation quite a bit of thought before encouraging his partner in that direction. They’d shared women in the past but had never considered adding one to their relationship long term. He and Steve were shadow and light, yin and yang, maybe too much so. A third might make things easier on Steve and he needed to make Steve happy. He owed him that. Now if they could just get Blue to give in to her interest in Steve. Of course, Steve would pick the one girl in the free world who wasn’t ready to throw themselves at his feet. Of course, he would, but he couldn’t fault Steve his choice. The more he observed the woman, the more he found his own interest piqued.

The doctor was different. Her phone wasn’t perpetually in her hand, she wasn’t constantly distracted by technology. She had noticed them, was surprised by their presence but he’d witnessed the moment she had visibly reigned her interest in. It had been a curious act of self-control. The more he’d watched the more he found himself intrigued and admittedly attracted. Unfortunately, their courtship seemed to be moving as slow as snail mail.

#fanfiction #fan fiction #bucky fic #bucky barnes #steve rogers #steve fic #stucky

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overwatchworks · 5 years

Text

A Night in Town:

“You’ve been staring.” Genji muttered, hands in his pockets, eyes trained on some unknown object straight ahead.

Jesse blinked and looked away, a sheepish smile growing on his lips.

“Sorry. You look good, can’t help it.” He shrugged, sending a wink Genji’s way.

Jesse hadn’t expected the city to be so...Elegant. Lots of big buildings with sleek glass and neon lights lining their slopes and angles. There was a good mix of omnics and humans, all getting along. That was a nice change. He and Genji fit in pretty well with the city slickers as per their mission, however, Jesse was feeling a bit warm under the collar.

Genji, at Jesse’s peril, had been dressed to the nines. He had a black turtleneck sweater covered with a sleek, steel grey trench coat, skinny jeans, and worn combat boots. A beanie and a black surgical mask covered his face and hair, the wires and metal missing so he could pass, and Jesse had never stared at him so much.

Genji looked so ridiculously good, it was criminal.

That, and Jesse had never actually seen this much of Genji’s face before. Always hiding behind the mask, eyes dark and tired, keeping everyone at a distance. Now, however, Jesse was walking right next to him, elbows nearly touching every time he had to shift out of someone’s way.

“You’ve been staring.” Genji muttered, hands in his pockets, eyes trained on some unknown object straight ahead.

Jesse blinked and looked away, a sheepish smile growing on his lips.

“Sorry. You look good, can’t help it.” He shrugged, sending a wink Genji’s way. The ninja’s sharp eyes slid to Jesse, his gaze cynical.

“You are! Not my fault it’s true.” Jesse insisted, raising his hands placidly. Genji looked away, unfazed, as usual. Jesse would get him to believe it, eventually. His charm hadn’t failed him yet, and Jesse wasn’t about to stop trying.

He grinned as they continued walking, hands slipping into his jean pockets, thumbs hooking in the belt loops. They had no place in particular to go, the mission itself was done. It hadn’t been strenuous, just checking out a site that was suspected of blackmarket trade.

Now, there was nothing to do but wait for the dropship that had, of course, been delayed. Genji had been silent and pensive since Reyes told them it would be late, Jesse taking the subtle narrowing of his eyes and slump of his shoulders to be annoyance. Especially when Jesse insisted they go looking around while they waited. But, he had conceded, so he couldn’t have been that fed up.

The cowboy didn’t have a specific place in mind as to where he was going, but it had been a long time since he had been in such a nice city. He wanted to enjoy it while he could. Genji stayed in step with him, though, he kept his eyes either trained on the ground or straight ahead of them.

Jesse wondered what he was thinking about with his brows drawn like that—perhaps his old lifestyle? What it would be like to be fully human again? Maybe he was anxious at not fitting in with either the humans or omnics around him? Jesse never knew quite what went on in that head of his, and Genji certainly wasn’t keen on letting anyone in to try.

The cowboy nudged his side when he saw a building that had patterns of lights going down its windows like a waterfall, complete with little holograms of fish splashing around.

“I’ve never seen anythin’ like that. It’s pretty cool, huh?” Jesse told him with a smile.

Genji glanced at the building, shrugged, but gave no other answer. He went back to staring but not really seeing, Jesse not taking it personally.

Something must have been messing with the ninja’s head, so Jesse looked around for a place they could go where he could focus on other things. A cafe, maybe? Could Genji even eat there? He was certainly dressed like he would, and the chill in the air was starting to get to Jesse.

“Hey, you hungry? I was gonna stop in a cafe if they’ve got one ‘round here, warm up a bit.”

“Okay.”

“Can you help me look for one? Maybe they got a Kofi Aromo or somethin’.” Jesse murmured, Genji finally looking around as if he was in the present again.

They had to walk for another block or so, but they eventually came across a little coffee shop. Jesse held the door for Genji, waving him in with an exaggerated motion and a smirk. The ninja scoffed, though, the edges of his eyes scrunched just slightly.

From the back, Jesse could see the bits of metal on his jawline, and surprisingly, little studs in Genji’s ears. He frowned. Genji’s ears were showing. How hadn’t he noticed before? He was just so used to not seeing anything but his eyes. That must have been part of what was throwing him off this whole time. Jesse shook his head and followed Genji in, standing next to him in line.

“You want anythin’? Drinks are on me.” Jesse teased, Genji rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

“I don’t know if I can have any of this.” He hummed softly as he read over the screens advertising various coffees and lattes.

“Well, you won’t know unless you try.”

“It could potentially cause my systems to fail and my body to shut down, but yes, I suppose you are right.”

“Alright, so no coffee, then. Got it.” Jesse sighed, making a slight face as he spoke, brows raised in exasperation.

Always with the biting remarks. It wasn’t really Genji’s fault, but Jesse did get tired of them after a while. He didn’t hold it against him, though, never had, just tried to make light of the situation instead or simply ignore them instead.

Genji glanced at the gunslinger, hands coming out of his pockets only to lace his fingers together and fiddle with them unconsciously. He had gloves on to hide how they didn’t match.

“I would like to try the vanilla mocha, though.” Genji uttered softly, shoulders raising slightly. Little things like that were what told Jesse he was trying, and damn, if he wasn’t the cutest guy alive while doing it.

“Vanilla mocha, huh? So you like it sweet?”

“I used to. I don’t know about now.”

“Well, if you wanna try some of mine, you’re welcome to it. It’ll be bitter though, I like a good dark roast.”

“You seem like you would.” Genji mumbled to himself, Jesse raising a brow and grinning.

They ordered and got a two-seater table towards the back of the cafe, just out of sight.

Jesse didn’t try for small talk, had learned pretty quickly that Genji would only make and carry on conversation if he wanted to. Today seemed like a day he didn’t want to. Most days were like that, but that was fine. Their drinks came quick anyways, the omnic waiter setting them down and leaving without a word. Just programmed to do a job, nothing more.

Jesse took the lid off his coffee—dark roast with no cream and a little ice—blowing on the still steaming liquid. It smelled wonderful. The coffee in the Blackwatch common room was good enough to do the job, just instant grounds poured into hot water, so having real coffee was nice. Tasted nice too.

Jesse’s eyes slipped to Genji once more, the ninja’s fingers curled around the cup as he stared out at the city. His eyes flicked around as he looked, the only movement Jesse could see from him. The gunslinger took a sip of his coffee, letting his eyes roam over his partner while he wasn’t being noticed. Yet.

Genji just looked so good, human and gentle in a way Jesse had never seen before. Like he was just another normal person, doing normal things in a normal city.

Jesse eventually looked away, down to his coffee as he tapped his fingers against the cardboard cup. It created tiny ripples on the surface of his drink.

Genji finally moved, hand going up to his mask. Jesse’s brows raised slightly, interest piqued.

“You can’t stare.” The ninja told him sharply. Frankly, Jesse was surprised he was being trusted with this at all, much less with a simple threat and nothing more.

“I won’t.” Jesse promised. It would be hard, considering this would be the first time he had ever seen Genji’s face, but he would try his best.

Jesse realized why he was sitting with his back to the door as he pulled the mask down and tucked it under his chin. His skin was pale and face gaunt, scars slicing across his cheeks and lips, though, the worst ones were around where his synthetic jaw meshed with his real skin, red and raw looking.

And yet Genji still managed to make that look beautiful.

Jesse didn’t realize he was smiling until he averted his gaze and took a sip of his coffee. Genji had been avoiding looking at anything but his own drink. He blew on it a bit, the design on the top getting messed up a bit. Took a drink, some of the foam sticking to his upper lip. Jesse couldn’t help but look back up at him.

Genji was staring at the drink, head tilted slightly. Goddamn, it was getting difficult not to blush.

“I can taste it.” He murmured, Jesse raising a brow.

“I...Normally cannot taste things. Not like this. It is different, but I can tell it is sweet.” He explained, huffing a little laugh at the end. His lips turned up just ever so slightly, Jesse squeezing his cup tighter.

“Well, that’s good. I’m glad.”

The gunslinger was relieved he managed to get a decent response out, licking his lips as he forced himself to look out the window.

They finished their coffees in relative silence, Genji pulling up his mask again as soon as he was through with his drink. It had disappeared rather fast. He glanced at Jesse, then took a little breath, exhaling softly. Not quite a sigh—almost as if he was going to say something, then reevaluated.

The gunslinger tapped the table as he stood, glad to stretch his legs out and have an excuse to look at anything else but Genji.

“We’ve probably spent enough time here. Wanna walk around some more until we get word of our ride? I’m gettin’ antsy.”

“You sure it isn’t just the caffeine kicking in?” Genji asked, raising a brow as he walked past Jesse without waiting for a response.

Was that...A joke? Did Genji Shimada truly just make a joke? Jesse grinned, adjusting his baseball cap and chasing after the ninja. Maybe he was making progress after all.

Genji was waiting just out front, hands back in his pockets, the cold breeze tousling his bangs. Jesse didn’t much like the cold, and it was getting dark on top of that, so it was only going to get colder. However, he was enjoying the time he was able to spend with Genji, just pretending they were normal for a while. That made the biting chill more than worth braving.

Jesse fell into step beside the ninja when he started walking, looking much better than he had before they got coffee. He seemed a little happier, shoulders squared more and less of a shuffle to his step, eyes bright as he looked around. Jesse watched him a moment, smile softening.

“Yanno, I liked seeing you. Without the mask.”

Genji’s head tilted towards him, pace slowing. He was quiet, emotion Jesse couldn’t quite name flickering behind his eyes.

“Oh. I—Okay.” Stuttered out, tone unsure but sincere. Jesse gave him a lopsided grin, then went back to a comfortable silence. Not dwelling on it for too long, Genji normally liking to move on pretty quickly if they ever happened to talk about him, especially his appearance.

The lights on the buildings and along the roads had more prominence as it got darker, Jesse admiring the creativity of the city. Genji slowed, then suddenly took a sharp turn, heading towards a park Jesse hadn’t noticed. He felt a hand on his arm, pulling him.

Genji was pulling him along.

Jesse wiped the surprise from his face and followed, and while Genji let go pretty quickly, he could still feel the phantom of his touch. The ninja had never voluntarily touched anyone before.

The park around them was beautiful, the plants alight with luminescent colours, twinkling lights between the leaves, and the path lighting up wherever they stepped. Jesse tipped his head back, the canopy above casting a blue and purple light over everything. He could hear the sound of a stream somewhere, and a few birds still chirping in the bushes.

“Woah. I’ve never seen anythin’ like this before!” Jesse gasped, stepping closer to the edge of the walkway to examine a cluster of flowers with transparent petals glowing soft pinks and yellows.

Genji ran his hand over the trunk of a tree, the light over the bark brightening where he touched.

“It’s...Synthetic. But some of it is real, with holograms. It’s all mixed, though, I can’t quite tell.”

Jesse went to join him, glancing at the awed look in the ninja’s eyes.

“It’s beautiful.” He murmured, Genji tilting his head up to meet his gaze. It was held for a moment before the cyborg looked back to the trees.

“Yeah. It is.”

He then leaned in, tapping his shoulder to Jesse’s briefly before walking down the path. The gunslinger stared, then smiled, mimicking the little light imprints made from Genji’s steps with his own stride.

Jesse didn’t know when their ride would get to them, but he truly wished the night didn’t have to end.

#mcgenji #jesse mccree #genji shimada #Whiskey'sWorks #I was given inspiration today and this happened I'm sorry #blackwatch boys

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giajiaaa · 5 years

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Chapter 2: Coffee Talk

m a s t e r l i s t

Words: 1353

You woke up the next morning to the beautiful rays of light shining in your room through the blinds. Smiling, you opened the blinds and reveled into the sight of the beautiful city. Jake woke up a little later after you took a bath and got into your clothes. You gave him his favorite food and checked your things for rehearsals. Then you noticed the messy stack of papers on the couch,”Oh right, forgot what happened to you.“,you thought to yourself. Whilst arranging your sheet music, images of last night flashed through your head and you cursed,”You could’ve avoided this problem if you werent a little too drunk Ronnie...“ Yet part of you thought that maybe you didn’t have to regret last night’s incident. You were very curious about him, “Pedro.“ The name rolled off your tongue which caused Jake to look up at his owner, leaning his head to the side. You smiled at his cuteness, patting his head as he continued to dig into his bowl. You finished up arranging the pile of papers, it was fairly easy given that there were numbers on the corner on which page the paper was.

You slid the folder into the backpack along with some essentials and your violin, heading over to your favorite coffee shop, Romeo and Juliet. When you arrived there, it wasn’t as crowded as it was a few weeks before.You went straight to the cashier and was greeted by your friend, Mike. “Good morning Ronnie. Do you want the usual today, your one and only favorite?”, he asked you rather enthusiastically and smiled, looking up to you as he waited for your response. “Hey Mike, yes I’d like to get the white mocha frappe”, you rolled your eyes at him, he was the closest friend you had in NYC for at least 6 years now. He was like a big brother to you. “Just sayin’, for someone who is almost going into their 30’s, you still look and like the same things as a teenager”, he declared, shrugging and chuckling as you threw him a playful punch in the shoulder. “For someone older than me, you still act like my brother when he was 15.”, you retorted at him and told that you’ll be waiting for your order at the table. “Donuts on the house by the way! I’ll bring them to you as soon as it’s done señorita” he spoke jokingly with a very hard accent which made you chuckle.

You sat at the table by the window and looked out into city streets. Minutes later, Mike finally got you your order with two glazed donuts, ”Here you go señorita, a white mocha frappe and two donuts! A typical sweet morning treat”, he spoke as he laid down your frappe on the table. “Thanks and please stop calling me that.”, you chuckled as you took a sip of your drink. “Have a good morning Ronnie.”, Mike told you with a soft smile as he went back to the cashier.

You decided to stay a little longer at the café, it was still early and rehearsals won’t start in an hour and a half. You pull out a book from your bag and start reading from the page you were left behind. Losing yourself in the story, you didn’t notice someone approaching you. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”, you thought you were dreaming when you heard Pedro’s voice but, no, he was standing in front of you with the most charming smile you have ever seen. “Hey! I guess I could say the same to you”, you chuckled as you closed the book, “Is this seat taken?”, Pedro gestured to the chair across the table,”No, no it’s not. Please, make yourself comfortable, grab a donut”, your smile never left your face since you saw Pedro and you felt that familiar sensation of butterflies in your stomach, you really did feel like a teenager. He put his bag down and sat in the chair across to you as he opened his mouth to say something but he closed it, he seemed to struggle with his words yet his smile never left and he just chuckled. You found it adorable and giggled softly.

“So, you come here often?”, you asked him, hoping to strike up a conversation while the two of you sat together. “Do I come here often?”, he laughs,”This is my favorite coffee shop, I come here every time for coffee! Sometimes I bring my dog, Edgar, in when I’m about to take on him on a walk, I ended up ordering with some food ‘cause he would give me those doggy eyes that was one of my weaknesses.”, his eyes sparkles with happiness as he answered rather enthusiastically, that explains why you thought you saw him almost every time you ordered something. “And I’m blabbering like a fool, sorry about that.” You snap out of your train of thought, probably imagining him with Edgar whining at his feet, you found it adorable,”No,no,no you’re not. I think it’s cute.”, you chuckled as you took another sip of your drink.”Do you come here often?”, he asked as he raised up the donut you offered him a while earlier, raising his eyebrows wondering if he could take it. “You can have the donut, Pedro. And yeah, I do come here often. Too often, actually. I come here to get my morning coffee or maybe in the afternoon or evening to think about things. I like it here.”

“So you do remember my name, I thought you could’ve forgotten it last night ‘cause you looked a bit tipsy but talking to you right now, I guess I was wrong.”, he chuckled feeling embarrassed as you hinted a small blush that crept in his cheeks,”It is nice here, really. The coffee is my favorite thing here, it brings memories from when I was shooting a series in Colombia”, and at that moment, you finally realize it was Pedro Pascal you were talking to , you recognized him from that episode you and your friend watched together. You weren’t quite interested at the show at the time so you didn’t pay much attention to it. No wonder, his features were familiar. “Oh shoot, I almost forgot you were an actor.”, you chuckled in embarrassment as you rubbed your neck, ”No it’s okay, really.”. “Well I have to admit, I did see you at the theater, well I think I saw you, if that was you. Does that mean you’re playing a part in King Lear?”, you asked him raising your eyebrow as you checked your watch for the time, not wanting to be late for your first day in rehearsals. “Can I say that I think I saw you too?”, he chuckled softly as he took a sip at his coffee,”I am playing a part in King Lear, wha-what were you doing there? Are you producer? I-I’m”, you looked up at him making eye contact, waiting for him to finish his sentence. “I’m curious”, he muttered softly enough for you to hear. You take one more look at your watch and sighed, looking back at his eyes that somehow enamored you in the first place you laid your eyes on them.

“I’m part of the orchestra, Pedro. And it’s 8:35 in the morning, and we’re gonna be late for rehearsals. Why don’t we talk more when we’re heading towards the theater?”, you proposed to him as you stood up and waited for his answer, hoping he would walk with him. You did like him very much although you just met last night. “I would love to!”, he said enthusiastically as he stood up and picked up his bag along with his coffee as he offered his arm to you, ”Shall we?”, you smiled at the gesture and looped your arm around his. He opened the door for you and both of you went out, slowly getting to know each other better as you drifted into the city streets.

#pedro pascal #king lear #edmund #nyc #gia.writes #pedro pascal fanfiction #only you

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imajin-that · 5 years

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Uh Oh ~ Sehun Soulmate!AU

Part 1, maybe?? Let me know if you want to see more. I’d love to write more. Yoongs has an NCT Mark fic that will be released soon, meanwhile, I’ve written this in about an hour and a half, it’s not beta’d. But I hope you like it. Please let us know if you have a request or if you want to see more from this fic!

♥♥ Minnie

You were running late. Like late late. You’d forgotten to set your alarm the night before and took a melatonin, ready to just sleep. It’s been a hectic semester for you so far, and if you didn’t get to your psych class you were going to be screwed. Today was a mandatory attendance day, and the teacher closed the door as soon as the clock hit 9:30 am, not letting you in even if you were in her sight. Between psych and the student ran cafe that you worked at, you were doing great in your other classes.

You slowed down significantly to open the door to the building your class was in only for it to swing out and hit you hard enough you (and your books, because you didn’t have time to hunt for you bag) to fall on the concrete. The cause of the accident turned out to be Oh Sehun, one of the more popular guys on campus. You’d heard he was nice enough, if not a little aloof. He had all kinds of girls (and guys, let’s be honest) swooning over him. But despite how often you heard his name and saw him from afar, you’d never actually had any kind of contact with him.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you.” Sehun spoke as he reached down to pick your book up. “Here.”

“Its okay, and thank you. I-” You stopped short when you made eye contact, the sharp zing of warmth flooding through you. One of the many descriptions you’d heard of when someone meets their soulmate. But instead of heart eyes like so many people describe, his features went hard as he glanced you up and down.

“No.” His voice was harsh, cutting you to the quick. The tone change made you flinch and lower your eyes in shame. You’re not surprised that he doesn’t like the way you look, it isn’t exactly what’s considered pretty. Still, the face that your soulmate of all people didn’t accept you hurt beyond words.

“Uh, I’m Y/N.” You spoke softly, not wanting to upset him further.

“I can’t believe this.” He stormed off, leaving his friend gaping at his retreated figure.

“Damn. I can’t believe he did that.” You tore your gaze away from where Sehun used to be to look at the man who spoke. “He’s not usually like that. Let me help you up. I’m Chanyeol, by the way.” Chanyeol reached a hand down to you, large eyes glancing over you in concern. “Are you hurt at all?” You shook your head but winced when you tried to put weight on your left foot. “Let me help you to the nurse.”

“You don’t have to, I can find a way to get their myself.” You spoke softly, still hurt by Sehun.

“I’m heading that way and you can’t walk. Let me help you.” Chanyeol’s voice was deep but laced with concern as he looped his arm around your waist and pulled your arm over his shoulder. “So, purple hair and tattoos, huh? I have four, myself.” He slowly started leading you through campus in the direction of the nurse’s office.

“Yeah, I like it. Personal expression and all that.” You made a face when he glanced at you, eyebrow raised, only to end up giggling at him. “It’s not really a big deal, but I like them. I put aspects of the things I love on my body. I get to carry them with me everywhere. Forever. I mean, it’s not that deep but I all of my tattoos are of something I love.”

“That’s why my boyfriend won’t get a tattoo. The only thing he needs with that much permanence is me. He’s cheesy, but I love him.”

“Is he your soulmate?” You smile at how fond he sounds, happy he’s found happiness, despite only knowing him for about 10 minutes.

“Yeah, he’s also pacing outside the nurse’s office.” Chanyeol chuckles as he gestures to a shorter male whose face lights up when he spots the taller.

“You had me worried! You’re never late! Where’s Sehun?” Both you and Chanyeol grimace. “What? What did that idiot do?”

“Smacked his soulmate with the door and then rushed off angrily when he realized.” Chanyeol’s voice had a bit of an edge to it, slightly angry on your behalf.

“Its okay. Really. Will you tell him I understand but we need to talk?” You started moving through the door to the nurse’s office. “Let me give you my number so if he doesn’t want to speak with me directly he can at least call or text me.”

Chanyeol burst into a smile. “And we can be friends too!” You nod and laugh, but you’re happy to have made a new friend.

“Go ahead and go with your soulmate, I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“I’m Baekhyun. Good luck with your ankle.” His comment confuses you until you look down and see it swelling a bit. You smile wryly and wave at the pair as they turn to take their leave. Turning into the building, you lean against the wall fighting back tears. You weren’t going to cry because your soulmate didn’t like you. And you sure as hell weren’t going to get soul sickness either.

Three hours, two ibuprofen and an ice pack later, you were cleared to leave. The nurse had emailed your professor explaining that you were there so you wouldn’t be docked points for missing the lecture. You exited the building with instructions not to put too much strain on your ankle for the rest of today and tomorrow. Walking slowly so as not to irritate your ankle again, you headed towards the dorms.

An arm being thrown over your shoulders made you jump and trip a little. “Missed you in psych earlier. What happened?” Jongdae moved so he was walking backwards, hair a curly mess and a pout on his face.

“Oh Sehun smacked me with a door who then ran off cos he didn’t like that I was his soulmate.” You leveled your best friend with an unimpressed look. “Shocking.”

“Let me fight him for you. No one disrespects my beautiful best friend and gets away with it!” Jongdae put his fist up in mock threat, face serious. At least, it was until he ran into one of the trash bins. You burst out laughing at his shocked face, his arms coming up in a flail.

“Graceful as always, Dae.”

“Y/n!” You looked over to where your name was called only for your smile to drop a little when you saw Sehun. Standing next to him, however, were Chanyeol and Baekhyun. You waved at the two, surprised at seeing them so soon after first meeting them. Sehun glared at Chanyeol but Baekhyun smacked his arm. Based on the wince, it wasn’t light.

“You know Chanyeol and Baekhyun?” Jongdae asked, closer now that he’s righted himself.

“Only sort of. Chanyeol helped me get to the infirmary and Baekhyun was waiting for him”

“Ah, well, Chanyeol’s a really nice guy. A big oaf, honestly.” Jongdae had looped his arm through yours and started walking towards the aforementioned oaf. “Baekhyun is in the nursing class with Minseok. Min says he’s nice.”

The two of you approached the table where the other three were sat, Chanyeol jumping out of his seat to pull you into a tight hug.

“How’s your ankle? Looks better, but I can’t see through the bandages so.” Chanyeol trailed off, despite the smile on his face.

“Looks like the swelling has gone down. Still, you should sit, Yeol give her your seat so she doesn’t have to sit next to this heathen.” Baekhyun sneered playfully at Sehun, who glared back.

“Thanks but I don’t know if that’s the best idea.” As much as you’d like to get to know your soulmate and new friends better, you didn’t think Sehun would be willing to tolerate you.

“Just sit.” Sehun’s voice shocked you into looking up at him, his mouth was turned down, but he didn’t look as harsh as earlier. “I’m gonna get something to drink. What do you want, Y/N?”

“Oh uh,” You were stunned that he would ask, but rushed to respond before he could change his mind. “A white chocolate mocha with hazelnut, please?” Sehun only nodded before rushing off. You, Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Jongdae continue idle chatter while the other male was gone.

“Here.” The to go cup was placed in front of you by a large hand before Sehun was slipping into the seat next to you. You thank him and eagerly taking a sip, noting that it was exactly how you like it. And by exactly, you meant no whip and fat free milk. Something that you hadn’t told him when he went to get the coffee.

“How did you know my extras?” You ask, turning to face a blushing Sehun.

“I, uh, I heard you request it before.” He refused to look you in your eyes, instead looking at his cup of coffee and swirling the straw a bit. “I’m sorry for hitting you with the door and then running off, I was just upset because I’ve liked you from afar for so long and then you’re my soulmate and then that’s how we met and I was just really embarrassed and angry at myself. I’m sorry for taking it out on you.”

Sehun spoke so fast it took you a moment to understand, but when you did you started giggling. “Its okay, we can start over. I’m Y/N and I’m your soulmate.”

#oh sehun #sehun #exo sehun #exo k #exo scenarios #exo imagines #exo #sehun imagine #sehun imagines #oh sehun imagines #sehun x reader #exo x reader #sehun scenarios #oh sehun scenarios #oh sehun x reader #exo sehun x reader #exo sehun imagines #exo sehun scenarios

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180abroad · 5 years

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Day 178: ...and We’re Still in Bruges

After a pretty intense day visiting the WWI battlefields and memorials of Flanders Fields, Jessica and I decided to spend our last day in Bruges enjoying some of the lighter things it had to offer: chocolate, fries, and a whopping bell tower.

After a return trip to the I Love Coffee espresso bar and a walk through the market square---this time filled with stalls of flowers and produce---we started the day with a trip to Bruges's Choco-Story museum.

We'd visited a different chocolate museum back in York, so we were interested to see how the chocolate museum in this other world capital of chocolate compared. A lot of the subject material was similar---obviously---but we found the Bruges museum much more interesting. Instead of a flashy guided presentation like we experienced at the York Chocolate Story, the Bruges Choco-Story is an actual museum filled with informational displays that we could take in at our own pace.

As we already knew, the earliest form of chocolate was a sort of cold bitter tea brewed in Central America from cocoa nuts.. What I hadn't known is that the word chocolate is derived from the Nahuatl (Aztec) word cacahuatl, meaning "cocoa water." The earliest known use of cocoa was by the Shuar people of Ecuador around 5,000 years ago. Archeologists have found traces of Shuar pottery still coated with traces of brewed cocoa.

The later Mayan and Aztec civilizations especially favored a type of foamed cocoa made by churning it with a special whisk. The foam apparently cut down the bitter taste of the unsweetened chocolate.

In addition to the more typical museum displays, the Choco-Story also had some delightful Duplo block dioramas.

Much later, Spanish nuns in Oaxaca were the first to add sugar to their cocoa. The drink became so popular among female Spanish colonists that they couldn’t even make it through church services without taking a break for their servants to bring them more. A local bishop tried to crack down on the problem by banning cocoa in church and was found murdered shortly thereafter. (An important lesson about men trying to get between a woman and her chocolate…)

It was nearly a century after Columbus’s first voyage before cocoa made it back to Spain, and it was another century after that before it became popular outside of Spain. But when it finally did, it quickly became a sensation across the continent. In the 1700s, the French philosopher Voltaire mixed cocoa with coffee to create the world’s first mocha. He drank over 40 cups of it per day---to his doctor’s great distress.

Apparently, people were so afraid of spilling their cocoa that a new type of saucer was invented with a basket or cup for holding the cup secure. Maybe they were so afraid of spilling it because it was so expensive. In 1800, a pound of chocolate cost five times the average daily wage.

It wasn't until the mid-1800s that solid chocolate as we know it was first developed by the Quakers of northern England, whom we'd learned about at the Chocolate Story in York. But even though the English invented solid chocolate, the Belgians would argue that they perfected it.

Belgian chocolatiers pioneered the use of fun shapes and fillings to make chocolates even more enjoyable. Belgium was also one of the first countries to impose strict purity laws governing the production of chocolate---sort of like what Bavaria did with beer centuries earlier.

We also learned a bit about the process of making chocolate. (Or rather, I learned, since Jessica was already well-versed in the making of chocolate as a former chocolatier herself.)

I learned that there are three main varieties of cocoa plant: Criollo, Forastero, and Trinitario. Of these, Criollo makes the best chocolate and Forastero makes the least-good chocolate. Still, Forastero is much easier to grow than the other two, so the vast majority of chocolate is made from Forastero beans.

On average, one cocoa tree produces enough nuts to make just one pound of dark chocolate per year. That means that it takes literally billions of cocoa trees to feed the world's sweet tooth.

They also had a diagram showing the composition of dark, milk, and white chocolate. I knew that milk chocolate has a lot more sugar and less cocoa than dark chocolate, but seeing the pie charts really drove the difference home for me.

We also got to eat as many sample pieces of dark, milk, and white chocolate as we wanted, which was nice.

The museum ended with a walk through some incredible chocolate statuary and a demonstration of how to make Belgian pralines. It was pretty much exactly like the demonstration we saw in York---the chocolatier filled a mold with chocolate, poured it out, filled with filling, then filled with chocolate. But it's always fun to see people make chocolate, and it's even better to get free samples afterward.

On our way out to the gift shop, a set of computer terminals offered to reveal our perfect origin chocolate based on our taste preferences. Apparently mine is Venezuela and Jessica’s is Vietnam.

Our next stop was to climb the iconic bell tower that overlooks the market square. I have to admit that I spent a lot of that time thinking about the movie In Bruges, in which the tower plays a prominent role.

Crowds have apparently become more of an issue in the ten years since the movie was released. It was about a thirty-minute wait in the newly installed queue room before we could climb the tower. The price has also grown along with the crowds–twelve euros per person instead of the five quoted in the movie.

While we waited, we watched a looping video showing how the design of the tower has evolved over time. It was once actually even taller than it is now.

During the Middle Ages, a lot of towns around Belgium made deals with the local lords. The lords gave the towns economic autonomy, and the towns used this freedom to make astronomical amounts of money that the lords could use to raise armies when necessary. Each town had a market hall where local merchants would keep their wares safe during winter, and it became a point of pride for each town to build the biggest, most elaborate tower possible on their market halls.

As we climbed up, we got to see some exhibits along the way. We saw an old lock-box and the original wrought-iron doors dating back over 700 years to the hall’s original construction. Back in the day, this chest would have contained important contracts and decrees, and it would have required multiple respected members of the community to open it together, since they each would carry one of several keys that were all needed to open it.

We also saw the giant brass cylinder that runs the tower’s carillon bells just like a music box. I hadn’t known before this trip that that was how they worked!

It's very clear from the inside how much the tower has been expanded and renovated over the centuries. The designs and angles of the staircase change dramatically every few floors or so, seemingly without any care for convenience or continuity. It clearly feels like a place that was originally intended to be behind the scenes and not seen by visitors.

Also, as far as I could tell, there wasn't any point along climb where the stairway matched the one shown in In Bruges. Oh well.

The view from the top of the tower was just as spectacular as we could have hoped. There was a web of wire mesh covering all the windows, possibly to prevent people from inadvertently reenacting the film’s climactic scene.

Still, we were able to get some spectacular shots of the surrounding town and skyline.

Back on the ground, we bought some fries at one of the stands flanking the entrance and sat down in the bell tower's courtyard. Fries are a big deal in Belgium, and there are dozens of condiments to choose from. There's the American staple of ketchup, the Belgian staple of mayonnaise, and a host of other sauces we'd never heard of before. Thankfully we had plenty of time in line to do some quick research on our phones.

We both settled on “Andalouse sauce”–a blend of mayonnaise, tomato sauce, and peppers. If you've ever tried Red Robin's Campfire sauce before, it is very similar to that. They were easily the best fries either of us have ever had.

After doing a bit of final shopping in town, we headed back to our Airbnb to rest up and get packed for the next day's trip up to Amsterdam, where Jessica’s brother Nic was already waiting for us. We were leaving a day earlier than we had originally planned at the beginning of the trip since we'd gotten tickets to a soccer match in Amsterdam tomorrow night, but we still had a great time. Belgium seems to have a bit of a reputation for being an underwhelming tourist destination, but we had a fantastic time. The people were great, the food was great, the beer was great, and the scenery was great.

Speaking of beer, we didn't do any other beer-related activities after the De Halve Maan brewery tour, but we did our best to sample the local offerings back at our Airbnb in the evenings. We enjoyed a bottle of Kasteel Rouge, the cherry-liqueur-fortified dark ale we'd tasted back in Prague. Just like before, the first sip was heavenly, but each sip afterward was increasingly cloying. It would make a great digestif, but a full bottle---or even half a bottle---is far too much.

Another ale we enjoyed was the ubiquitous but still impressive Leffe Brown. It is the standard dubbel offering of the Belgian abbey-style macrobrewery Leffe, part of the Anheuser-Busch InBev family. But like I said, it is still really good. As long as you like dark ales, that is. The first thing that struck me was just how appropriate the name was. Sure, "Brown" doesn't seem like the most unique or descriptive name for a dark beer, but I can't think of a better word to encapsulate its flavor. It's earthy, bready, and nutty---like drinking a fermented organic bakery.

And of course, we got some Lambic beers. Jessica had gotten me into Lambic beers back when we were first planning this trip. Technically, Lambic beer is just beer that's produced in a very specific part of Belgium using wild yeast instead of brewer's yeast. But commercially, Lambic beers are known for being mixed with fruit syrups to create a deliciously refreshing beverage that even people who don't normally like alcohol can enjoy. The main brand you can find in the US is Lindeman's, and one of the first drinks we opened upon our arrival in Bruges was a Lindeman's Framboise (raspberry). It tasted pretty much the same as it does in the US--which could be seen as either mildly disappointing (since it wasn't any better) or moderately encouraging (we don't have to feel depressed for not getting "the good stuff" back home).

Plus, we also had a ton of chocolates we had to eat our way through. Yeah, life was pretty hard for us in Belgium. But all good things in this life must come to an end, even if it is only to move on to the next good thing. And the next good thing for us was Amsterdam, a family reunion, and my first European soccer match.

#180abroad #bruges #belgium #travel #chocolate #bell tower #french fries #architecture #europe #beer #lindeman #still in bruges

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prinanalogicality · 7 years

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Protection

Summary: Human! Sides. Walking home from work late one night, Virgil comes across a circumstance where he sees someone who may need help. In all actuality, it turns out that the antagonist may need more help than the guy Virgil was initially going to assist in the first place.

Hello everyone, it is I! Thank you to everyone who has stuck by me through my giant unannounced hiatus, this college thing is wild. Anyhoo, you’re not here to listen to me apologize and all that stuff, so let’s get on to the work, shall we?

If the read more isn’t working, please go to the AO3 link below.

AO3 link here.

Pairing: Human! Prinxiety. This is just some nice lighthearted stuff for everyone, especially after the most recent video, Moving On Part 1. Enjoy!

With a small huff, Virgil pulls the long sleeves of his jacket over his hands, curling his fingers into the fabric. It is a rather chilly night, cold enough that Virgil can see his breath. He shakes his head, causing more of his purple-dyed bangs to fall in front of his eyes. He steps further into the cool night, earbuds currently plugged in and playing one of his favorite songs. After an emotionally draining few hours of dealing with snooty customers demanding that their venti iced coffee have 12 pumps of sugar-free vanilla, 12 pumps of sugar-free hazelnut, 12 pumps of sugar-free caramel, 5 pumps of skinny mocha, a splash of soy, coffee filled to the star on the Starbucks siren’s head, ice, and it better be double-blended - he is more than ready to just go home. Sleep is all he needs so that he may refuel and prepare himself physically and emotionally for enduring customers in the days ahead.

The walk from work to home and vice versa is about twenty minutes. Yes, one would believe that he would drive the short distance, considering he has a tendency to be as least physically active as possible. Which he used to, but then Logan bought him a Fitbit and hovers over his daily steps like a hawk, intent on making the young male lead a healthier lifestyle. Logan really can be a bit overwhelming when he goes into mother-hen mode.

Looking up from where he had previously been staring at the ground, Virgil catches sight of a tall male ahead of him. Virgil sees him regularly, he works at the convenience store not too far from his own workplace. They appear to work similar hours, as whenever Virgil heads home from work he comes across him. This time, though, he also catches sight of a shady looking figure wearing a black hoodie with the hood up, baggy jeans, and his hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie. The figure stands between them, trailing not too far behind Virgil’s acquaintance, if you could even consider him that.

Immediately suspicious, Virgil’s steps fall faster against the pavement as the figure looks around, quickening his pace as well. The tall guy seems completely oblivious to what is transpiring behind him. Pulling out his earbuds, Virgil tucks them into his pocket alongside his phone.

Inside, he is conflicted. Should he catch up to the tall guy? Should he act like they know each other and keep that dude from mugging him? But what if that doesn’t deter the figure and he gets mugged too? Yes, Virgil is afraid of facing repercussions but at the same time he is more afraid of knowing that he could have done something to help someone yet all he did was stand idly by.

With his mind made up, Virgil moves faster to a light jog so that he can catch up to the tall guy. He curses under his breath softly as the figure also seems to pick up his pace, gaining confidence in his plans. Virgil really should get to the gym more often so that moving slightly faster than normal doesn’t make him wheezy and out of breath. He gains ground, only a few steps behind the figure before the figure seems to catch up to the tall guy.

“Oh, hey, wait, Bob? Yeah, I haven’t seen you in a while, let’s get- coffee?” The words tumble from Virgil’s lips as he stops a small distance behind the two males before him, in which the figure had reached out and tugged the shoulder of the tall guy’s pristine white jacket. Almost immediately the tall guy maneuvers so that he is bending down, using the surprise of the mugger as leverage to full-on judo-flip the guy onto the ground. The tall guy looks completely unaffected, save for the fact that he appears to be highly disgusted with the fact that the figure had touched his shoulder. Brushing his fingers over the affected area, he straightens his jacket and turns to face Virgil with a broad smile.

“Bob? Not quite. My name is Roman, actually.” Roman extends his hand towards Virgil, and Virgil’s gaze flickers between the male’s glittering eyes and his outstretched hand. Noticing the purple haired male’s hesitance, Roman chuckles and retracts his hand. “No need to feel fear any longer. I will not hurt you. But, I will hurt you if you even think about getting up and placing a hand on me again.” Roman looks down to the mugger still on the ground, who meets his eyes before rising to his feet and rushing away from them.

Visibly relaxing, Virgil tugs at the sleeves of his hoodie, shifting from foot to foot. Roman is looking at him again, eyes shining with a sense of gratitude and something that Virgil cannot quite place.

“My name is Virgil.”

“What a lovely name. Thank you for trying to scare that lowly being away, it was a valiant attempt.” Roman bows with a flourish, and despite the cold, Virgil’s face feels warm.

“Uh, well. It was nothing really. I was just gonna, well. Act like we knew each other and walk you home before he could get to you, but I’m super slow, so things didn’t go as planned. But, really, you were ready for him. You laid the smack down. I could still walk you home, if you want, just in case. In all seriousness, though, with your skills, I might just ask you to walk me home.”

The unidentifiable glint intensifies in Roman’s eyes and is reflected in the way his grin expands. “Walk you home? Why, I suppose I could do so. But I have one condition: I get to take you up on that offer to get coffee sometime, even though my name is not Bob.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Before he can even mull over the words, Virgil uncharacteristically blurts them out. The pure absurdity of what has transpired in the last ten minutes of his life has really thrown him for a loop, so much so that he didn’t spend time thinking over his reply before asking questions his mind came up with.

“Well, I suppose it was you that asked me on a date, but essentially the answer is yes, I am asking you. I would love to get a coffee with you sometime. Say, perhaps you could make me something. I've seen you around quite a few times, you work at the Starbucks, correct?”

“Yeah, I do. As long as your offer isn’t ridiculously long, then yeah, I guess I’ll consider making you a coffee. And you have to make sure I don’t get ambushed or something on my way home.”

“Your knight in shining armor is here, dearest Virgil. I shall protect you from any foe that dares even look at you. Lead the way.”

Virgil lets out a snort as he begins his trek back to his home, Roman falling into step beside him.

“Now, hold your horses. I don’t want you body-slamming any innocents just because they look at me.”

“The key word is foe, which means a dastardly fiend.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk like you’ve been taken straight out of a fairytale?”

“I’ve heard the notion quite a few times, actually.”

The walk back to Virgil’s apartment seems to go by quickly, the conversation never coming to a stop. Roman, Virgil finds, is very personable and though he is more hyperactive than Virgil is used to, maybe he can get used to it.

“I wish that I could tell you some silly and coincidental circumstance that I happen to live in the same complex, even the same building, but unfortunately, I cannot. I must bid you adieu for now, but I do hope to see you again in the near future. Near future meaning tomorrow, perhaps?” Roman bows as Virgil opens the door to his apartment building, pausing and turning to look at him with a raised brow and amused eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you later, Roman. I’ll make you coffee tomorrow. Night.” With a wink that he had been mustering up the courage to do for the last ten minutes, Virgil enters his apartment building, hearing the door close behind him and the soft sound of Roman’s laughter. He smiles to himself, a small pep in his step as he goes to his apartment number. Typically Virgil dreads the future, as he has a need for constancy and knowing what is next. But for once, he is excited to see where a road may take him, even if the circumstances of meeting Roman were less than to be desired.

#prinxiety #prince sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #anxiety sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides #ss #my fics #my works #mine #roman can lay down the law #virgil is awkward and v precious

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lady-divine-writes · 7 years

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Klaine fic - “Not Just My Wingman” Chapter 4/4 (Rated NC17)

Kurt and Blaine are roommates, living in the loft together after Blaine graduates from high school and moves to New York. Kurt is determined that he’s over Blaine, and tries to prove it by helping him get a date…or ultimately, get laid. But when Blaine succeeds in finding a guy that’s actually interested in him, will Kurt realize that he wasn’t as over Blaine as he thought?

***Edit - In case you’re wondering, yes, I had posted this a while ago, but I came back and re-read it…and decided I hated it. So I re-wrote it. It’s basically the same, only the language is way better, as are the characters. So, read it again!

Based on the Tumblr prompt - Where Kurt and Blaine go out club hopping as friends, with each other as their wingman. “I’d like them to kinda be like ‘well, we’re pretty dumb for not realizing how back together we are’ or something, and ultimately get back together. Maybe someone points out that they’re basically together again…”

Passing mention of Rachel and Santana, but they don’t live at the loft. Also, the bedrooms in the loft are actual rooms with doors. Mention of Adam (Adam friendly) and Chandler. (Mentions the break up and Blaine’s cheating.)

Read on AO3.

Chapter 1 - The Chapter Where Kurt Tried to Get Blaine Laid…and Succeeded

Chapter 2 - The Chapter Where Kurt Freaked Out and Blaine Went on a Date…in that Order

Chapter 3 - The Chapter Where We Find Out What the Hell Happened to Kurt

For the remainder of the week, Kurt and Blaine barely saw each other, and they definitely didn't speak. They didn’t text. They didn’t even acknowledge one another if they happened to find themselves in the same room together. Kurt left the loft earlier than necessary every morning to seek refuge at his favorite coffee house, drowning his sorrows in various flavors of chai tea since nonfat mochas had suddenly developed the power to bring him to tears.

They didn’t make eye contact when they passed each other in the halls at school between classes, but Blaine would often turn and watch Kurt walk away when he knew that Kurt wouldn’t catch him.

Blaine couldn’t help it.

He missed him.

Blaine spent his nights with DeLeon since the man’s days in New York were numbered. Soon he would be packing up and boarding a flight to London. After that, Blaine had no idea what would happen back at the loft.

Would Kurt continue to ignore him? Leave early every day and look past him in the hallways?

Could Blaine live like that, with Kurt acting like he didn’t exist?

Blaine contemplated moving out since he didn't want to make Kurt uncomfortable. He didn't want Kurt to feel like he had to go to extraordinary lengths to avoid him. The loft had been Kurt’s home long before Blaine moved to New York, but Blaine could easily imagine Kurt hiding in the costume shop at NYADA at night, or the vault at Vogue so he wouldn't have to come home to a place where Blaine lived.

Blaine didn’t want that. If their friendship was over, and he prayed it wasn’t over, he didn’t want chasing Kurt out of his home to be the last impression Kurt had of him.

On DeLeon's last night in New York, Blaine made an attempt to chip away at Kurt's carefully constructed armor by inviting him along to their Bon Voyage night out on the town.

Blaine and DeLeon had come up with the idea to invite Kurt together, but Blaine made it a point not to mention that part.

"Come on, Kurt," Blaine begged, checking his watch for the twentieth time in five minutes, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Kurt, who shielded himself behind his issue of Vogue. "It's going to be a blast! And you need to get out. You haven't gone out a single night this week, have you?"

"How would you know?" Kurt grumbled, pretending to read an article on the resurgence of dyed faux fur accents. "You aren't here at night anymore. I could be whoring myself out in your bedroom and you wouldn't have a clue."

"Kurt, I think I'd notice that," Blaine chuckled, hoping that comment was Kurt's attempt at diffusing a tense situation through humor. This was the first time they’d spoken to one another all week. Frankly, Blaine was ecstatic that Kurt didn’t immediately vault off the couch and race into his bedroom the second Blaine walked through the loft door. He took it as a good sign. But when Kurt didn't even crack a smile, Blaine realized that Kurt was still upset, more so than Blaine had anticipated.

This week they’d spent apart had done little to cool Kurt’s temper.

Kurt turned the page he had been glaring murderously at, even though he’d only read the headline and photo captions.

"But, seriously," Blaine continued, "I think you'd have a great time."

Kurt scoffed and turned another unread page, counting the minutes until Blaine left so he could get a start on his pity party.

"Do you think I want to watch you and your stewardess friend pawing all over each other while I sit in a corner and chug Shirley Temples? If I want to watch porn, I can stream it off the Internet. I've been considering getting a Cockyboys membership, anyway."

Blaine sighed. Kurt and porn weren't two words that one often uttered in the same sentence. The thought of Kurt sitting on the couch, miserable and alone, with a cheesecake in his lap, watching two guys going at it through the spaces between his fingers the way a little kid watches a slasher film, grabbed a hold of Blaine’s heart and twisted.

Once again, Blaine considered canceling and staying home. He wouldn’t tell Kurt this time since Kurt would probably just tell him to go. Yes, DeLeon was leaving for London in the morning, but Blaine had spent quite a bit of time with him this week. He was sure DeLeon would understand.

Even if he didn't, would it matter? DeLeon was leaving, and who knew when he would be back.

A loud knock ended the non-conversation.

The door slid open and DeLeon stepped in. "Hey guys!"

“Hey!” Blaine turned and waved cheerfully to the man headed his way, but a second later, his eyes darted back to Kurt. In the small space of time that Blaine had turned his attention away, Kurt had huddled as close to the arm of the couch as possible, with the edges of the throw wrapped around his shoulders clutched tight in his fist. He hunched down, burying himself deeper into an interview with Rihanna.

DeLeon sashayed up to Blaine. He laced a hand with Blaine’s and kissed him on the corner of his mouth. Kurt groaned quietly, his nose practically sinking into the seam of his magazine.

"Sorry for the intrusion," DeLeon said in the rhythm of a Beyonce song he’d been humming. Kurt frowned. He didn’t expect the man to have such a melodious tenor voice. But why not? The man was built, handsome, and could apparently carry a tune. And now he was dating Blaine. The man had everything. "But Blaine said you guys usually keep the door unlocked and that I could come right in. How you get away with that out here in Brooklyn, I'll never understand."

“It helps that we don’t own anything worth stealing,” Blaine joked.

“Oh, I don’t know.” DeLeon raised a hand to run a finger down Blaine’s cheek. “I’d break in here just to snatch up the two of you.”

Blaine kissed DeLeon’s hand when it came close to his mouth.

Kurt smiled begrudgingly, but didn't lift his eyes from his magazine.

DeLeon bent over to catch Kurt's gaze. When he realized he wouldn't, he stood back up. Never one to be deterred, he smiled, preparing to try again.

"You know, for a fashion maven such as yourself, this look is a little low-key for the night we had in mind, Kurt."

Kurt harrumphed. DeLeon smile wider.

"He said no," Blaine answered for him, gazing plaintively at the rug beneath his feet. DeLeon looked from the disappointed man by his side to the stubborn one sitting on the couch, staring at an ad for Dior, and decided to try, and succeed, where Blaine had failed.

"Well, too bad." DeLeon grabbed Kurt by the arm and dragged him to his feet. "It wasn't a request. So put on the sexiest thing you have, darling, because we are partying hardy with six of the hottest men who ever played for our team. And get a move on. You've got five minutes."

Kurt glared, mortified, at the man with tremendous biceps who practically lifted him into the air, but then he caught sight of Blaine staring at his shoes with a hopeful smile on his lips.

Kurt could never refuse that smile. It was Kurt’s kryptonite. But he wasn't going to pretend to be happy about it.

"Fine. But five minutes only gets you mildly sexy. If you want truly devastating, I'll need fifteen."

"Take your time then. I’m willing to wait for devastating. I’ve heard it’s something to see." DeLeon swatted Kurt on the backside. Kurt spun, shooting daggers at both of them when they dissolved into giggles, turning in toward one another like conspiratorial teenagers. He stared at them a little longer than he should have, which is why he saw DeLeon lean in to kiss Blaine’s neck … and Blaine close his eyes to enjoy it.

And somewhere in his heart, that he had let grow hard against any amount of Blaine's lingering love for him, a single sliver fractured off.

***

They took three subways into Manhattan to a nightclub Kurt had never heard of before, but that DeLeon insisted was the hangout for flight attendants when they hit the city.

“It has an awesome vibe,” he said, leading Kurt from the subway car with their arms linked together (the other looped inside Blaine's, walking three across with DeLeon in the center like they were performing in an all-male remake of The Wizard of Oz, skipping down the Yellow Brick Road), “the hottest dancers, the tastiest specialty drinks, and the music! Man, it is always bumping! Am I right, Blainey?”

Kurt turned his head to look past DeLeon at Blaine. Blainey?

“Yeah,” Blaine agreed, looking at Kurt. “This place is seriously fantastic, and the music is on hit! You’re gonna love it!”

Kurt watched DeLeon bend to Blaine’s ear and whisper something that made him nod and titter. “Oh my God!” Blaine said. “I totally forgot! That was the best!”

So, Blainey agreed it was hot. Which meant he'd already been there.

They hadn’t even left the subway and Kurt hated it immediately.

They could hear the music pounding all the way from the subway turn-stall. Once they got up top and crossed the street, Kurt saw that the line to get in wrapped completely around the building. But DeLeon blew by the line and managed to get them through the ropes, kissing the cheeks of the bouncers at the entrance. The trio had barely taken a step through the doors when they were mobbed by six extremely handsome, astonishingly well-built men, with freakishly perfect teeth and flawless skin.

That must be the package deal for flight attendants, Kurt thought. The minute you sign on, they cap your teeth and perform some ritual that magically fixes your skin. But even as he privately jeered, he made a note to ask one of these guys what exfoliator and moisturizers they used because damn!

“Kurt” - DeLeon put his hands on Kurt’s shoulders in a familiar way that irritated Kurt to no end - “this is Savon, Michael, Kevin, Trey, Dominick, and Stephen. Guys …” DeLeon pushed Kurt slightly forward, as if presenting him for the group’s approval. “This is Kurt.”

“So, we finally get to meet the famous Kurt,” Kevin said, taking Kurt’s hand in his and kissing it.

“Enchante,” Savon said, taking Kurt’s other hand at kissing it as well.

"Oh … my … goodness,” Kurt murmured. “Why don't I fly more often?" He was sure no one could hear him over the pulsing music, but DeLeon did.

“I’ll find a way to comp you some tickets so you can join our Mile High Club,” he whispered. “Have at him, boys!” He shoved Kurt headlong into the throng of men and let them lead the way out on to the dance floor.

Twelve songs into the evening, Kurt's shirt clung to his torso, almost entirely see-thru with sweat, which Kurt normally hated, but he was loosening up. He felt more carefree than he had all week. These six guys, who seemed entirely focused on him and him alone, were so sweet, so nice, so complimentary, that he could almost let go and pretend that this was a normal night out, that he was free of his feelings for Blaine, but his enjoyment dimmed every time he caught a glimpse of Blaine and DeLeon grinding together, their hands all over each other, smiling, talking, sharing little pecks, lost in their own little world.

Kurt remembered that world.

And even surrounded by six men who could classify as super models, apparently willing to cater to his every whim, he missed that world.

He missed Blaine.

Another song started, a slower song. He saw Blaine and DeLeon wrap their arms around each other. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t not watch. He had to put some distance between him and them before he went crazy.

"I think I'm going to sit this one out, boys," Kurt announced. “Don’t miss me too much.” He walked briskly away to a chorus of disappointed groans and pleas to come back soon. He headed through the crowd toward a ring of tables, trying not to break into a gallop in his need to be away from Blaine and DeLeon.

But the universe rarely ever worked in Kurt's favor.

No sooner did he claim a vacant booth than DeLeon slid in beside him, lips curled in a devilish grin.

"Leaving the dance floor so soon?" he purred. "The party's just getting started."

"Yeah, well, I think I overdid it a bit," Kurt lied, gaze rising from DeLeon's eyes to lock with Blaine's as he joined them, his eyes wide and full of concern. “That dance floor’s a little too hot with me on it.”

"Why don't I get us some drinks?" Blaine offered, resting a hand on DeLeon's shoulder and squeezing gently. Kurt's eyes followed that hand, felt the squeeze on his own skin, and he swallowed hard.

"Nothing for me, thanks," Kurt said, looking away. “I’m good.”

DeLeon put a hand over Blaine's and patted gently. "I'll have a rum and coke.”

"You've got it," Blaine said with a wink. He waited one more pause to see if Kurt would change his mind, then headed off to the bar.

DeLeon watched him go.

When he turned back to Kurt, the mischievous glint was still in his eyes, but the expression on his face was much more serious.

"When are you going to tell that man that you’re still in love with him?" he asked, cutting to the chase.

Kurt sat straight up, jerking back in his seat. "Excuse me?" he said indignantly.

DeLeon rolled his eyes, far too done with this conversation already.

"I see you," DeLeon said, tapping his temple. "I see you watching us. If you think you're hiding anything, you're mistaken."

Kurt chuckled viciously. "Then maybe it’s a good thing you’re sitting down because I think the heat is getting to you. That, or you seriously need to have your vision checked."

DeLeon slid in closer. Kurt fought the urge to slide further away.

"You see, I want to like you," DeLeon said, "but when you say things like that, you make it really hard. Now usually I'd tear you a new one for being such a bitch, especially when I went through the trouble to ensure that you would be thoroughly entertained tonight, but seeing as you probably wouldn't be in this situation if your boy Blaine hadn't cheated on you, I'm gonna let it slide."

At the mention of his name, Kurt's eyes subconsciously swept the club to find him. And he did find Blaine, with surprising swiftness, standing at the bar, waiting for their drinks.

"Even hearing Blaine’s side of things, I’m gonna tell you, you weren’t wrong,” DeLeon continued. “And I told him that … repeatedly. He should have driven past that hotel, gotten on a plane, and talked to you face to face before sticking his dick in someone else. You have every right not to take him back if that’s what you really want. But I know that face. Fuck, I've even worn that face. And that is most definitely love, son."

DeLeon's expression softened, his eyes following Kurt's where they rested on Blaine's back. He could easily picture Kurt’s face on the night Blaine told him he cheated. Blaine’s story had broken DeLeon’s heart, but Kurt’s story, the one he hadn’t even heard from the source, hurt worse. It was the one that DeLeon could relate to. He had hoped that he could get Kurt to open up to him, but Kurt stayed tight lipped, staring longingly at his ex.

So DeLeon decided to try a different tactic to get Kurt to spill.

"Or maybe I'm wrong.” He shrugged. “Maybe those heart eyes of yours are staring at his sweet, sweet ass."

Kurt's head snapped so quickly back to the man beside him, he was sure he’d pulled something in his neck.

"Yup, that boy has a fine behind," DeLeon remarked, watching Kurt react. As he suspected, Kurt's shoulders tightened, his back went rigid, and his jaw clenched. "Too bad I didn't get the chance to see it."

Kurt's hands balled reflexively, but his face morphed from disgust to confusion in the blink of an eye.

"Wait … b-but … he's been spending every night this week at your place. I thought you two were …"

"Well, the first night he came over I tried," DeLeon admitted. "Lord knows I tried. But he stopped me before I could do anything." DeLeon grimaced at the memory. "And I was so close, too."

"So, what did happen?" Kurt hated that he was curious, but he needed the truth to erase his heartbreaking fantasies of Blaine and this man making love to one another.

"He said he was sorry and asked if we could just be friends. Seeing as I'm leaving for London and then God knows where after that for a few months, I agreed it was probably for the best."

Kurt felt relieved, which he knew he probably shouldn’t. He was being unfair. He had no exclusive rights to Blaine anymore. And he had made that decision. But he was also confused. He shut his eyes, trying to put the pieces of this puzzle together, especially after what he had seen of their behavior with his own eyes. "So, what has he been doing at your place?"

DeLeon shook his head, as if the answer was blaringly obvious and Kurt's denseness far from amusing. "Giving you space."

Kurt threw his hands up in frustration. "Why didn’t he just tell me the truth?”

"No disrespect, man, but did you give him the chance? Or did you get upset and back him into a corner? Because I think both you and I know the answer to that."

Kurt wanted to be angry at Blaine for lying about sleeping with DeLeon, but then he thought about the last few days of avoiding Blaine like he was the plague or a Sears Department Store. His cheeks pinked with embarrassment, and then with a touch of anger. It was one thing for Kurt to recognize his own shortcomings, but another to have his ex's current sort-of platonic fling shove it in his face.

Shortcomings that DeLeon would only know if Blaine was talking about him behind his back.

Kurt’s eyes shot open wide. "Now wait …"

"Before you get all high-pitched on me, no, he didn't say anything," DeLeon said, his arms raised in defense. "I just happen to know a thing or two about flying off the handle. I can get kind of high-pitchy, too."

“So …”

“I guessed, and he might have confirmed … vaguely. That’s all I’m sayin’. I don’t need to get that boy into any more trouble.” DeLeon chuckled. “He obviously does that fine on his own.”

Kurt nodded, relaxing even though he wasn't sure how any of this would change things between him and Blaine. But Kurt's shoulders squared again when another thought entered his mind.

"What about the grinding and the touching and the little kisses between the two of you?" Kurt asked, becoming high-pitchy anyway.

"So, I took a few liberties,” DeLeon said. “Can you blame me? Look at him. He's gorgeous … but you already know that."

Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt watched Blaine walk toward their table, eyes trained solely on him as if he were the center of the known universe and a few others as well.

DeLeon saw it, too, and sighed. "Unfortunately for me, he's all yours, sunshine."

Blaine set the drinks down, sliding a glass of clear, bubbly liquid overflowing with cherries in front of Kurt.

"I know you said you didn't want anything," Blaine said, "but I thought, you look so hot … I mean flushed … and just in case you changed your mind …"

DeLeon took his rum and coke and sipped it, recognizing with regret just how quickly he had disappeared from Blaine's notice. He wasn’t angry at Blaine. Blaine talked about Kurt like he was the moon and the stars. Even if DeLeon had had a chance with Blaine and they had slept together, he’d only be borrowing him.

It would have been fun, but DeLeon wanted more. He deserved more.

He couldn’t have that with Blaine.

"Look," he interrupted, backing out of the booth, "I don't mean to drink and run, but I've got an early morning. I think I'm going to bow out now."

Blaine watched him stand, his shame at ignoring the man of the hour apparent in the way his mouth stopped working.

"B-but, DeLeon," Blaine stuttered. "Don’t go. I'm sorry if I …"

DeLeon put a hand over Blaine's lips and shushed him. “It’s alright. I get it.” He smiled at Blaine's apologetic eyes and leaned in close, kissing him gently on the lips. Kurt's drink suddenly became very interesting and he glued his eyes to it, counting the cherries in an effort not to burn holes into DeLeon's skull.

Why should Kurt be jealous of a little kiss if they weren’t dating? Though the way his heart seized up at the idea of Blaine kissing DeLeon back pretty much answered that question for him.

DeLeon pulled away from Blaine's lips, sparing a glance at Kurt, who was staring down his drink as if the cherries were marked for death.

"I think it's time you fixed this once and for all, don't you?" DeLeon whispered. Blaine looked at Kurt, too, curled over his drink the same way he had been on the couch when he was crawling into his magazine. He had so many walls built up around him. Blaine did that. Those walls hadn’t been there for years after Blaine helped knock the original ones down. These were new, and they’d been built to protect Kurt’s heart from being broken … by Blaine.

With a final hug, DeLeon walked off into the crowd, disappearing from view.

"You know, come to think about it, I should probably call it a night, too." Kurt slid out of the booth from the opposite end so as not to disturb Blaine, who stared blankly into the crowd as if trying to summon DeLeon back. Kurt was confused how DeLeon could assume that Blaine only wanted Kurt when he seemed genuinely smitten for the sage man who had just gone. Kurt headed off in a different direction, but a hand grabbing his stopped him.

"Don't go," Blaine pleaded softly, his voice managing to rise above the noise even with Kurt's back turned. Blaine pressed his body against Kurt’s, not overbearing or aggressive, the simple warmth of his presence bleeding into Kurt’s skin and simply making itself known.

"Blaine," Kurt started, not sure what he wanted to say, hoping the words would come to him as soon as he opened his mouth, and that he would actually mean them, whatever they were.

"Dance with me?" Blaine dared an arm around Kurt's waist. "Please? Just … just once before you go?"

“You sure you haven’t had enough dancing?” Kurt snapped. “I mean, it looked like you were getting your fill before.”

“It’s not the same when I’m not with you.”

Kurt felt himself melting into Blaine's arm, molding against his body, and it frightened him. It would be this simple, wouldn't it? To fall back together? But what would that mean?

Could it last this time?

He thought about it as he followed Blaine out onto the dance floor, as he let himself get wrapped up in Blaine’s arms, swaying with him to music that didn't match their beat since the music over the speakers pounded through the floor like a rainstorm, and they glided along together like a wave. Between the beats and the laughter and the loud voices, Kurt could hear the occasional I'm sorry …

I miss you so much …

You have no idea how much …

I love you …

I love you more now than I ever have …

I'll do anything …

Anything you want …

I'll even move out … give you more space …

Just please say we get to be boyfriends again …

Kurt heard every word, and he believed them. But before he made any decisions, there were a few things he needed to know. “I … have to ask you something.”

“Anything.”

“Why did you make me think you and DeLeon had slept together? Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

“Because …” Blaine looked guilty, maybe even more guilty than he had when he told Kurt he’d been with someone else “… when I came home, you were drunk … and you looked destroyed. I was confused, and I wanted to help, but I didn’t know what to do to make it better. You’d been trying for so long to get me together with someone. I thought that if you thought I had been, then you could …”

“Could what?”

“Be free. Have closure so you could move on. It seemed to be what you wanted so much. I thought … I thought you were done with me and that, somehow, I was hurting you. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore.”

“Well, unfortunately, I think we were both damned if we did and damned if we didn’t.”

“Or, maybe we’re just …”

“… made for each other?” Kurt finished. He was going to say stubborn, but for some reason that came out instead.

Blaine didn’t agree or disagree, but Kurt knew that’s how he felt. He didn’t need to confirm it.

That’s part of what it means when you belong with someone.

Blaine raised a hand to caress Kurt’s cheek and nuzzled his neck.

“Please tell me you still love me,” Blaine whispered. “I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry, Kurt. I’m so so sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever stop being sorry. And if you want to remind me every day for the rest of my life, then that’s fine, but let me spend that life with you. Tell me I have a chance to fix this. Let me try. We can go to counseling, or I’ll go by myself if you don’t want to go with me. I’ll take classes on how to be a better boyfriend. I’m sure they have some somewhere. And if I can’t make things better, then I’ll accept that I can’t, and I’ll respect any decision you make. I swear I will. But can I have a second chance? Just one more?”

Kurt felt lips press tentatively against his neck, begging for an answer, and with every shy kiss, Kurt felt himself cave. Kurt knew exactly what he wanted. He had for a while. And it didn’t take DeLeon draping his handsome self all over Blaine for Kurt to decide.

Kurt wanted Blaine. Even when he didn’t want Blaine, he wanted Blaine. Even when he couldn’t forgive Blaine, he missed him. Even when he never wanted to speak to Blaine again, sometimes all he wanted was to hear his voice. He hated how much he wanted Blaine because he felt like he was betraying himself, but the fact remained.

And Blaine wanted him, too.

But that was too much for him to put into words without sobbing like an idiot.

"Grrr! Alright, you colossal pain in the ass!" Kurt groaned, feeling a smile on Blaine's lips grow against his skin. "I can't believe we're doing this again! But if we are, we're doing it my way. We're taking it slow. Do you understand?"

“Of course,” Blaine said with a giggle, his lips eagerly finding Kurt’s, kissing him in reply.

***

It was 3 a.m., and it was sweltering. Not in general, and not outside considering it was winter, but in the loft, specifically in Blaine's bedroom, the air was stifling.

Kurt moved over Blaine's body with a deliberate slowness, pushing in deep, then pulling out to the tip, drawing out every low, long moan he possibly could from the man who arched beneath him, sweat rolling down his spine. Kurt had bound Blaine’s wrists with a few of his old scarves, tied together end-to-end so that his left wrist was connected to his right by a string of fabric running underneath the mattress. The more he pulled, the tighter the knots became. There was no way for him to slip free.

Not that Blaine wanted to move. He never wanted to go anywhere ever again.

"God, I missed this," Blaine growled, his voice rough, his body burning. He rose up to meet Kurt when Kurt pushed in again, deeper this time, as if such a thing were even possible. But somehow, Kurt found a way. Kurt met Blaine's mouth and kissed him hard, sucking his top lip between his teeth and biting to hear Blaine whine, to feel him shudder. "At least we're not drunk this time," he remarked when Kurt pulled away.

"Yeah," Kurt agreed, grinning at Blaine's debauched expression, at the fingernail tracks raising welts down his back, at his damp curls clinging to his cheeks, "but so much for taking things slow."

#klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #klaine #frankie writes

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