#I go days at a time not talking except customer service things and greeting family and maybe arguing. I can’t believe this is life for me
Note
Hey bestie! I just wanted to say that I love your work and the way you write Steve Harrington. Idk if you have something like this yet, but could you write something where both reader and Steve are super busy, always on opposite schedules. They are both getting kind of sick of it/sad about it until Steve does something to surprise reader :)
I hope you have a lovely day and that your writers block goes away :)
More Certain than Ever [s.h]
summary : This past month you haven’t had any time with your boyfriend. You were both used to being busy, but this was different. Finally no longer able to take it anymore, you quit your job. When Steve hears about it, he decides to ask you a serious question sooner than he planned to.
pairings : Steve Harrington x Reader
warnings : None, just tooth rotting domestic fluff. Reader uses she/her pronouns. No use of Y/N. Dialogue heavy. Kind of dual POV. (if I missed anything let me know!)
word count : 2,100
AO3 (x)
a/n : Thank you so much for the request! I rewrote this like three times and edited it twice, so that’s why it took a week to post.
This past month was horrible. Your manager at the movie theater had fired the girl you were usually scheduled with, so now your shifts were twice as long. Used to, you had a six hour shift early in the morning. Halfway through your shift was when Jennifer would clock in for the start of the afternoon. You'd get off at two while she worked the slow half of the evening alone. Now, however, you were handling your usual shift as well as Jennifer's all alone. Busy working from eight to eight five days a week, you were overwhelmed. You were doing too much for one person to handle at work, beyond tired when you came home, and missing your boyfriend.
Usually you'd go to Family Video when you got off work to visit Steve on his lunch break. His schedule was less consistent than yours, but the two of you always found a way to have time to see each other. Except now that Jennifer is gone, the two of you were struggling to spend time together. Even your days off weren't lining up. When you weren't working, you were busy cleaning your apartment, trying to catch up on both chores and sleep. You were upset that you never had time to be with Steve. The two of you were trying to find ways around your conflicting schedules.
Once home, you'd eat something simple that required minimal effort before showering. Just as you finish getting into bed, the phone you'd moved into your room would ring. You'd quickly answer, mumbling a happy greeting before being overcome by a yawn. You and Steve would talk for a bit, with you mainly managing to stay awake for twenty minutes listening to Steve's voice telling you about his day at work. Managing to say a quiet 'love you’ before fully falling asleep was an accomplishment. Come morning, you'd hear Steve's steady breaths coming down the line as your alarm was beeping. You'd wish him a good day before returning your receiver to its cradle.
Feeling just as tired as when you went to bed, you got ready for work and left for your shift. You were hating how this job had begun to make you feel. It was the start of a new week. A week to be filled with twelve hour days, an hour both to and from the theater, two hours to try and relax at home, and a restless night's sleep before repeating everything the next day? It was crushing you. You felt like if one more thing happened, you'd simply fall apart.
"You're here!” Your manager exclaimed. "I need to talk to you.”
You gave your best customer-service smile, "Sure thing, what do you need?”
“Well, I need to adjust your hours.”
You raised your brows, surprised by what you just heard. "Okay?”
"Perfect! So for a few days you'll be coming in at six, and you'll also need to stay until ten so that I–”
"No.” You bluntly interrupt while reaching for your name tag.
Your manager’s friendly demeanor instantly faded away. "No?”
“No,” you hand her your name tag. "I quit.”
"You can't quit. I'll accept a two weeks, but–”
"That's not necessary. I quit,” you turn on your heel and walk out.
Hearing your manager shouting the start of many different sentences after you was satisfying. Walking through the doors, knowing you’d never return as anything other than a customer, was satisfying. You were excited and unsure about what to do now that you finally had some time to yourself again. With a smile, you began heading toward Family Video.
The bell rang as you opened the door, Robin’s hair popping up above a shelf of movies as she stood, greeting you. You walked toward her, excited to see your friend.
“Hi,” you said as you turned the corner of the aisle.
“I thought you had to work, what are you doing here?” She exclaimed while pulling you into a tight hug.
Your excited laughter slipped out, “I sort of did something, and now I’m no longer working at the movies.”
“What happened?” Robin gasped, pulling you to sit behind the counter with her.
You explained what happened this morning while she began the process of rewinding tapes. The more you spoke, the more Robin commented about how ridiculous your old manager was. You knew the way you were being treated at the movies since Jennifer was fired wasn’t great, but you didn’t realize just how bad things had gotten until you were explaining it.
“With how long I’ve been working twice as many hours I have some time before I absolutely need to be hired. I’ll be able to apply to some jobs while being able to actually wait to hear back,” you thought aloud. “I also just paid my rent for the month, so I don’t have to worry about that either right now.”
"Oh!” Robin quickly stood. "Keith just put a sign up, we're hiring! You could work here!”
“You think? I feel like I should mention it to Steve at least.”
Robin grabbed your shoulders and shook you slightly, “He would love it! He's been so mopey this entire month. He misses you, and he hated how overworked you've been. We'll both tell Keith how good a worker you are, and that you literally quit working at the movies. There's no way you wouldn't get it!” She rambled excitedly.
"Okay,” you put a hand up. "I'll fill out an application, and I can bring it up to Steve later today.”
Robin clapped, grabbing the clipboard of application forms.
Steve tripped over his own feet while rushing out his house. He slammed the car door closed, cringing at how rough he was being on his baby. He had to ignore the awful feeling slamming the door caused as he was late to his shift. He was pushing the speed limit his entire drive to Family Video, prepared to apologize profusely to Robin. Only slightly haphazard in his parking, Steve shrugged on his vest while entering.
"I'm sorry,” he says while heading to the back to clock in. "My alarm clock died.”
Robin waved away his concern, "It's fine.”
"Like it's plugged in, but not on–wait. What do you mean it's fine?”
"I mean it's fine. Quiet morning, your girlfriend came in looking for you, she filled out an application, she left after a while, and the tape rewinder broke again.”
Steve stood still, trying to process everything Robin just said. "She came by? Is she okay? What happened?”
Guiding Steve to sit down, Robin rubbed his shoulder, "She's fine. Everything's alright. She quit the theater, and I suggested she apply here. She's going to talk to you about it, not wanting to step on your toes. I got her to apply anyway, then we hung out for like twenty minutes. She said she was going to head home and ‘sleep until there's no more movies.’”
"She always hated working there,” Steve mumbled.
"Yeah?”
Nodding, a soft smile creeps up. "She's not a fan of most new movies. And she hates popcorn. But she liked seeing how excited people would get after watching a movie.”
"She's a good one," Robin nudges his side.
Steve nodded, thinking. He was getting off early today. He could go see you after so much of your lives not lining up the way it used to.
Steve patted his pockets, making sure he had everything before grabbing the brown bag from the back seat. He took the stairs up to your apartment two at a time. Biting his lip, he knocked on your door. He heard a banging noise before your muffled shout that you were coming. His heart melted as the door opened, revealing a sleepy sight. Your hair was messier than you ever let him see, his sweatshirt was engulfing your frame, and your sleep shorts barely peeked out from the bottom of the sweatshirt. The surprise on your face made him chuckle as a wave of pink slowly flooded your cheeks.
“I brought lunch,” Steve says in a daze, focused on your sleepy appearance.
You grabbed his hand, pulling him into your apartment. You set the bag on the coffee table before hugging him. Feeling your arms around him pulled Steve from his stupor. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, gently swaying you both side to side.
“I've missed you,” Steve whispers.
“I missed you, too. How are you?” You pull back slightly to look at him closer. “You seem tired.”
“So do you,” Steve counters.
He watches as you nod, gesturing to the couch. “I couldn’t be bothered to walk all the way to bed after double checking I locked the door.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” he admits. “I’d try but it just wasn't happening. So I listened to your breaths. Eventually it would allow me to sleep, knowing you were right there and safe. But my alarm didn't go off today, so I was late. Robin told me how I had just missed you once I finally clocked in.”
You walked to the couch, pulling Steve to sit beside you. He tugged you into his side, leaning back against the couch. You curled into him with a hum.
“I quit today,” you state. “Finally.”
Steve nods, “So I hear. And you applied at Family Video. What happened?”
Your shrug feels stiff against Steve's side. “I just walked in, hadn't even clocked in yet, when I was being told I was getting more hours. I was sick of it, and I just quit. I didn't even let her say anything after that really. She tried to tell me I couldn't quit, that it was for a few days, but I was done. Last time something was for a few days put me at twice my hours for the month. So I walked out as she tried to make it be my two weeks.”
Steve squeezes you tighter against his side. “I’m proud you quit. I've been worried about you.”
“I know, and I'm sorry. And I applied at Family Video when I came to see you, but it was just Robin and she talked me into it. I mean, I like the idea of us working together but don't want to be too much.”
“You could never be too much. In fact,” Steve reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, “I have an idea.” He places the box into your lap. “I know it's only been six months, and this past one has only been tired phone calls, but I want you to move in with me. I was going crazy without seeing you this entire month, and I think Robin’s tired of me complaining about how much I miss you.”
“Yes,” you kiss him. “I would love to live with you.”
Steve held you close, kissing you passionately. When you pulled away for air a yawn escaped. Steve stood, holding a hand out to help you up.
“C'mon, I think we need to finish that nap,” Steve smiled.
You weakly protest as he pulls you up. "But the food, and we need to figure everything out, then there's–”
“Absolutely nothing that can't wait,” Steve promised while guiding you to bed. "We can eat when we wake up. We can share my room, or you can choose a room. Your lease here has been month-to-month since your original twelve-month agreement came to term. And I would love to work with you, you're more qualified than I am. Plus, Robin really wants you there too.”
You lay down, facing Steve. Your eyes scan his face intensely, trying to find any doubt. He looks sure. You think about how miserable you've been the past month. Knowing Steve felt much the same was reassuring. You'd never felt as comfortable nor certain about anything or anyone the way you do with Steve.
"Are you sure?” You timidly ask.
Steve cups your cheeks, holding your gaze. “I've never been more certain about anything.”
"Same here," you admit. "It's a plan. Sounds like you've thought about everything.”
Steve's cheeks flushed, “I was going to ask in a few months, but this past month made me want to ask you sooner. I was going to wait until you were off Friday, but then today happened. And it seemed perfect.”
You smiled, knowing how deeply Steve feels. “What else have you thought about?”
"Well…”
You and Steve fell asleep to plans of the future and many promises each of you wanted to fulfill together.
Author's Note : Reblogs are appreciated, likes are welcome, and if you want to read more of my fics then maybe follow.
©heyitsme1040 If you find this post on any platform under a username different than heyitsme1040 it is not their work.
#fanfiction#fanfiction writer#fanfic blog#stranger things#steve harrington#steve harrington fic#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fluff#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#fanfiction requests#request#domestic fluff#fluff
58 notes
·
View notes
Text
Cat Café
Summary: Every year, your parents would set you on a date with any eligible guy that is of a wealthy family background so that your parents could expand their wealth and business. You were never looking forward to any of the dates until one fateful day, where the café worker attracted your attention.
Theme: cat café au, wealthy family au, strangers to lovers
Genre: fluffy
Warnings: none
WC: 4.4k
Pairing: Café Worker!San x Fem!Reader
a/n: Hello again! Decided to write a cute kitty fic for San since he loves Byeol 💜 I hope he's resting well :'(
Being the daughter of someone who seems to be well-known as a millionaire in your country, there are pros and cons to it. The pros are that people would do anything and everything for your family, you lived in a mansion, you have a personal chauffeur but would prefer driving on your own, you can literally snap your fingers and anything can come to you except, you don’t like that.
The cons are that some people tend to envy your family, some even throw threats at you with ransom. And then there’s a handful of people who tries to befriend you just for your wealth but you’re not dumb. You’re smarter than people think.
However, one thing you never liked about this whole being born rich and having a family business fiasco, is that one of your parents would tend to be money minded and would do anything to gain power over their company. Which is exactly what was happening to you for the past few years ever since you turned 18.
Your father had been sending you on blind dates with a bunch of different guys who were sons of rich family business owners.
However, thankfully, your father wasn’t the kind to force you into marriage if you didn’t want to. But with that being said, every guy you rejected, results in a new guy for you and you hate this.
This year, your dad found you a guy who was around your age.
His parents owned a well-known wine company in the country. He was the youngest in his family. His name was Park Seonghwa and no doubt he was good looking and rather charming in personality, you just don’t feel the spark with him either.
And yet, here you are on your third date with him. You could tell that this person was a very kind-hearted man and that he was nothing but genuine with you.
But everything just feels out of place.
For this third date with him, he told you to choose where to go so you decided to bring him to a cat café that you knew of downtown. You walked with him side by side down the pavement after having dropped off by his chauffeur.
It was quite a chilly day, light snow cascading down on you as you walked.
Seonghwa was just listening to you talk about your school when he saw the way you were hugging yourself to shield your body from the cold breeze despite the three layers you had on.
He chuckled softly to no one as he soon wrapped an arm around your shoulder to pull you against his side, causing you to softly gasp.
Your words got stuck in your throat as you looked up at him with a bashful smile.
“Sorry, I guess you knew I was cold…” You apologized, earning a soft nod from him followed by a cute little giggle. You continued walking with him against your side, glancing up at him every now and then only to find him staring down at you with such warm eyes.
Both of you finally arrived at the cat café you wanted to bring him to, only to find it quite empty save for the two couples already in the booths with the kitties.
You entered the cosy premise of the café, immediately greeted by one of the staff there behind the counter.
“Hi! Welcome to Cuddles ‘N’ Coffee! Table for 2?” She asked with a cheery smile on her face.
“Yes please.” Seonghwa responded as she nodded before walking out the back and towards the glass door that shields the cats from leaving the front entrance.
“You can have that table booth right at the back. Just press the button on the wall and we’ll come over to take your orders.” She smiled as you thanked her for her great customer service before she returned your gesture with a sweet smile that turned her eyes into slits.
You and Seonghwa walked over to the table, careful not to step on any cats laying on the ground.
Some were already trailing behind you and the minute you placed your purse down and sat on the cushioned bench, a chunky brown cat leaped onto your lap and purred.
A soft giggle left your lips as you turned to Seonghwa who was also in the same situation as you but with a slimmer white cat in his lap.
“You make me want to adopt them really badly.” Seonghwa said under his breath, making you laugh.
After a few minutes of just bonding with the cats, you finally made your orders. The same girl came back about 5 minutes later with your orders, telling you to enjoy your drinks. You were just listening to Seonghwa talking about his boring lecturer when your eyes naturally glided over towards the front counter.
That’s where you saw a guy who looks to work there too considering the same polo tee and apron that Yeji, the girl who served you and Seonghwa earlier was wearing.
His smile was captivating as he joked around with Yeji, throwing balls of tissue at each other.
You watched as he seemed to have said something to her, causing her to slap his arm a little too harshly. That’s when he curled his body while holding onto the spot she hit.
But his frown was quickly replaced by a smile, watching her leave the counter with a middle finger in the air, directing it to him. Right when you were about to look away, his eyes happened to catch sight of yours. You’re supposed to be focusing on Seonghwa!
What are you doing? Look away!
Everything around you was a blur until you felt a warm touch to your knee, making you flinch and was soon turned back to Seonghwa who had a frown on his face.
“Hey? You okay? What’s wrong?” He asked out of pure concern.
“N-Nothing. Sorry, my mind went elsewhere for a moment. I’m so sorry, Seonghwa.” You apologized, already feeling bad for ignoring him like that whilst on a date. But all he did was chuckle and tell you it was fine.
After a few more minutes, you finally called it a night. You both reused your coats and checked to make sure you didn’t leave any belongings behind before making your way to the door to make your payment.
“Hello! I hope you enjoyed your time with the cats!” Yeji smiled to you two as she keyed in your orders.
“Yes we did. Thank you for having the cute fur balls.” You giggled, earning a laugh from her as well. Just when Seonghwa was handing his card to Yeji, you happened to turn right when her co-worker left the back room.
It was him.
He made eye contact with you briefly before turning away to enter the cat room. But you could’ve sworn you saw the small pout on his face. Unless your eyes were playing tricks on you.
Seonghwa’s car was now parked right outside your estate, with him insisting on walking you to your front gates while his driver stayed behind in the car. Once you were both there, he reached down to grab your hand gently making you turn around. You saw a frown decorating his face, instantly knowing something wasn’t right.
“Seonghwa? Is everything okay?” You asked as he stayed quiet for a while before he let out a soft sigh. And that’s when he explained everything.
“I know this might not be the best time to say this, but I have to. The past two dates were amazing. I never thought I’d find someone as down to earth and humble like you. And I did. Today was as amazing as those dates. The simple sushi dinner, the walk by Han River, the cat café as our last destination for this night’s date, I loved every second of it. And I really wish I could have more of this with you. I really do.”
He paused briefly before he continued, seeing that you were listening to him intently.
“But… my parents have decided… that they’re setting me up for marriage with someone else.” You weren’t going to lie, this news made your heart sink just a bit.
“Oh…” That was all you can muster and he knew you were upset.
“But it’s okay. We can still be friends if you’ll let me? The past three dates made me learn so much about you as a person and I couldn’t ask for more.” Seonghwa smiled, making you tear up feeling slightly overwhelmed.
“Hey, don’t cry…” Seonghwa whispered in between chuckles as he wiped your tears with his thumbs.
“I’m sorry, I guess I’m just touched that you feel that way for me.”
“Well, then I’m glad I managed to make you cry.” He teased, earning a soft slap to his broad chest. Seonghwa laughed again but then got quiet for a split second before he spoke up cautiously, hoping you weren’t offended by his request.
“Can… Can I kiss you?” Seonghwa asked and you weren’t going to reject him this time.
So when you didn’t reply to him, he mistook it for rejection. But instead, you carefully slide your hands around his neck, pulling him close until you feel his lips against your own.
Seonghwa smiled into the kiss as his hands wrapped itself around your waist, instinctively pulling you closer to his body. Your fingers tangled into his soft hair gently, feeling him squeeze your sides a little before he chuckled against your mouth.
“You really are something else, you know that? Whoever dates you, is gonna be the luckiest guy on earth.” Seonghwa complimented you, making you blush.
“And to the girl who’s about to be your future wife, she better be grateful to have such a handsome, kind hearted young man as her husband.” You returned as he kissed you again before pulling away.
“Goodnight Y/N. I’ll see you around. Promise we’ll stay friends okay?” Seonghwa said, making you hug him.
“I promise.” You whispered against his chest, pulling away from him. You gave him a final wave as you watched his car descend down the road. Seonghwa was an angel and whoever he ends up with, will be the luckiest girl on earth.
It has been 2 weeks since your last date with Seonghwa and you’ve been coming to the cat café. Probably 3 times in each week. Sometimes to do your assignment, sometimes to just chill and hangout with the kitties. But in all honesty, you were lowkey expecting to see the guy working there the other day and you did.
Almost all your visits there.
Little did you know, he too was kind of looking forward to seeing you there.
It was a Saturday evening and you were out and about in town. Your parents didn’t have any guys for your blind date recently so you took this chance to leave the house and just spend time alone.
You managed to find your way back to the café, parking your car at an empty parking lot down the street.
You had just entered the café and it was slightly more occupied than the last time you came. But since you were alone, it wasn’t actually a problem. You were standing by the door, looking around at the people queueing at the counter to make their payments when a voice snapped you out of your trance.
“Hi, welcome to Cuddles ‘N’ Coffee. For how many people?”
You turned to look at who greeted you, only to lock eyes with the same ones you had been hoping to see every time you came there.
“Just 1.” You said with a small smile, only to catch the inner corner of his lips twitch upwards.
“Right this way.” He said as he led you towards the room where the cats were in. You followed behind him closely, only for him to lead you to one of the booths near the back.
“Call me if you need anything.” He said as you noticed the smile that appeared on his face before he left. And you caught a glimpse of his nametag right before he turned.
Choi San.
A few minutes later, you were too busy petting the fluffy white cat in your lap, you didn’t even realize more people had left the café and there were only 3 tables left occupied. The cat in your lap was purring as it nuzzled its face into your stomach, not knowing you were currently a topic of conversation that was happening on the other side of the room.
San had just finished charging one of the customers only to let out a long sigh.
“Tired already?” Yeji asked with a teasing smile as she approached him. San grumbled, leaning against the counter with his back facing where the customers would be.
“Today’s been a full house since afternoon and I’m dead, gone.” He said, leaning his head back to close his eyes.
San couldn’t see what Yeji was doing until he heard her voice from beside him.
“Go and talk to her.”
“Huh?” San snapped his head towards her with a confused look on his face, earning a giggle from her.
“You yourself told me you were upset that she wasn’t alone the other day, and now she is. So go talk to her!” Yeji encouraged him.
“What if her boyfriend just can’t make it?”
“San, she’s been coming here alone for the past two weeks in case you haven’t noticed. Maybe she’s here to see you? Come on, just keep her company. Nothing would go wrong with that.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I’m a girl and I’d do the same if I wanted to be discreet about seeing my crush at his workplace?”
To that, San sighed as he turned to look over at you across the room, only to see you nuzzling your face against the cat’s head that was in your lap. This made his heart flutter as he saw the little smile on your face upon feeling the cat licking your nose.
He didn’t realize he had a silly smile on his face until Yeji pushed him gently to get his attention, “Just go, silly! That dumb smile on your face is telling a lot!” She laughed as he glared at her but without any venom in them.
He finally mustered up the courage thanks to Yeji as he was now making his way towards you where there’s only a couple who was left in the room with you.
Once he was a few feet away, his voice caught your attention, making you look up.
Immediately, your heartbeat started picking up speed.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” San asked politely, earning a soft shake of your head and a smile.
“No thanks, I’m good actually…” You said.
San nodded as he wasn’t sure if he should stay or leave. But you seem to have read his mind by asking him the question he never expected would have come from you.
“Do you… wanna sit down?” You asked as he glanced down at the empty spot beside you before looking back into your eyes.
“Uh.. y-yeah… are- are you okay with that?”
“Of course.” You smiled as you scooted over a little for him.
San carefully sat down beside you and almost instantly, a fluffy brown cat leaped into his lap. You giggled when the cat stood up with its back legs on his thighs while its front paws rested on his chest. Licking San’s chin cutely as the other cats started to surround him by the legs, begging for his pets.
“They seem to love you.” You commented with a genuine smile, making him chuckle.
“I own a cat myself so I guess I’m just used to being loved by them.” San said before turning to look at you, only to be flustered by the way you were staring at him.
“Wow… That’s sweet.”
“Do you have any pets?” He asked.
“No… Although I do wish to have one. I think it would be nice.” You said softly, only to hear him shift in his seat. Just then, his knee accidentally brushed against yours but you didn’t mind it.
A few seconds of peaceful silence went by, only for him to speak up, “Are you heading home soon?”
“I think I should? You guys are closing up soon right?”
“Yeah… Do you have a ride home?” He asked almost out of instinct, feeling sorry that he just blatantly asked you that when you barely knew each other.
“S-Sorry! I didn’t mean to be weird…”
“No. No. It’s fine. But yes, I do.” You smiled at him.
San awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck out of nervousness, only for you to speak up.
“Well, I think I should make a move soon. Thank you for sitting here with me.” You said as he smiled again.
“Sure.”
The two of you began making your way back to the front counter as Yeji keyed in your order. After you’ve paid, she hands you back your card and receipt, only for you to smile at both Yeji and San.
“Thank you. Goodnight.” You said as they nodded whilst she replied the same to you.
All San could do was smile, not able to move or say anything to you. The minute you left, Yeji turned to him and asked why he never replied to you. That’s when he finally told his co-worker that he was head over heels for you.
A few weeks passed and you had been going to that café a little more frequently now solely to see San. It was a Sunday afternoon, a bright, cold day. You were just making your way to San’s workplace when you got a call from him. You answered his call, only to hear his eager voice from the other side of the line.
“Hey! Where are you?” He asked.
“On my way to the café actually.”
“Nice. I’m a little caught up in the back so just come inside and find a seat near the back. Yeji’s working upfront.”
“Okay San, see you.”
“See you, cutie.” You could’ve sworn you heard his smirk creeping up on his face only for you to giggle.
You and San haven’t properly confessed anything yet, but you could definitely tell that both of you liked each other. Although San already knows about your family background, he was pretty chill about it. You could tell that he was a genuine person and wasn’t one who would just date you for money.
You even told Seonghwa about him and he feels that San is someone you could trust. So when you made it to the café and you saw Yeji talking to a customer alone by the cashier, you figured San was in fact in the back room.
So after the customer left, Yeji’s eyes travelled to you and immediately her smile beamed, causing her eyes to disappear.
“Y/N! Hey!”
“Hey Yeji.” You giggled.
“San’s a little busy with paperwork in the back but he told me to save a seat for you at your usual spot!”
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that though.”
“It’s okay, his words anyway.” Yeji giggled before bringing you to the table.
A few minutes passed, you were just kissing one of the cat’s cute pink nose when a familiar voice spoke up from above you, making you look up to see San standing there with his apron discarded.
“Hi.”
“Hey.”
San smiled as he sat down beside you only to reach over and gave the cat a few strokes. You were about to turn and talk to him but instead, you got flustered with how close his face was with yours. The minute San looked up at you, you could literally feel his warm minty breath hitting your lips.
His eyes glanced down to your lips and you could see the corner of his lips curve up slightly. This in itself, made your heart pound against your chest as you turned away to hide your blush on your face.
“Uhh, I- I umm, are you hungry?” You asked, earning a soft chuckle from him.
He went to order for you two, also making the drinks for you before coming back. You spent the next hour with him during his lunch break, not forgetting to share some skin ship with him. Something you’ve grown used to.
San was ending his shift in two hours and you definitely didn’t mind staying there for another few hours for him since he himself said you could wait for him there.
And so you did.
After he ended his work, both of you left his workplace not without saying bye to Yeji.
You hang out with him for a bit before he invites you over to his apartment. You’ve been there more than five times and he has never done anything inappropriate to you. So you trusted him with all your life.
A few hours passed and you were now seated on his couch, watching the Disney movie ‘Frozen’ with him. “Omg, look at this jerk! He’s totally using her!” You ranted with an unconscious pout, earning a little chuckle from him.
“Well, at least I know I wouldn’t do that to someone.” San shrugged, making you turn to him. He had a silly smirk on his face but you weren’t going to comment on it. You were just blushing at his indirect flirty comment towards you despite not mentioning who he was talking about.
San was definitely talking about you and he knows you know it too. And seeing the blush on your face could only make him burst into a laughter that left you pouting.
“Shut up! Don’t make fun of me!” You whined as San wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his side.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry but you’re just too cute!” San said as you froze.
Sure he has called your choice of outfits pretty before but this time, it felt so raw and you were slightly taken aback by it. San definitely noticed this as he pulled away from you to look into your eyes. At first he was frowning but then it got replaced with a smile, melting you instantly.
The room fell quiet as you noticed the way his eyes fell to your lips and lingered there for a bit, making you nervous.
Just then, your breath hitched in your throat when he reached up slowly to cup your face and caress your cheek with his thumb. Nobody dared to say much but he had to make sure you were alright with where this is going so he spoke up.
“Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” He whispered, his voice soft and gentle.
You gave him a nod to answer him as you watched him lean closer until his sharp nose lightly brushed against the side of your nose, lips barely an inch apart from each other.
You closed your eyes, too nervous to keep looking. San smiled at this as he gave your lips one last glance before he too closed his eyes and pressed his lips gently on yours. San felt you move your lips against his. He smiled into your lips as he caressed your cheek while he kissed you.
He was being so gentle with you, it definitely melted your heart.
He pulled away for a breath, letting his fingers lightly ghost over your features before you reopened your eyes to look at him.
“Was that okay?” He asked, his voice quiet.
“Yeah…” You whispered as you wrapped your fingers around the wrist of the hand that was holding your face.
“Good… Because I wasn’t sure if I trusted myself with words to confess to you.” San chuckled, earning a soft giggle from you before you replied to him.
“It’s okay… I like this better.”
With that being said, San smiled in victory as he kissed you again.
You spent the day with him, cuddling on his couch after a long but innocent make out session. Never did you think you would fall for a boy who worked at a cat café but you did. And you were more than happy you did.
~~~
#ateez scenarios#ateez imagines#ateez fluff#ateez x reader#ateez san#ateez choi san#choi san#choi san fluff#choi san scenarios#san imagines#san scenarios#atz san#san x reader#ateez san x reader#san fluff
222 notes
·
View notes
Text
Holy Shit (ronance fanfic)
A small little fic about Robin and Nancy getting together:)
It was a thankfully slow day at Family Video as Robin and Steve worked their shift together. Robin was building a new cardboard display case for a shipment that was supposed to have arrived hours ago. Everything was always moving in slow motion at this job, though, and Robin enjoyed it thoroughly. Meanwhile, Steve couldn’t even bother to look busy as he slumped in the one old raggedy chair that Keith allowed them to have. It was pouring rain outside, the windows rattling from thunder every so often. There were probably going to be at least 2 more customers coming in before they closed in four hours. Mostly just older ladies who shouldn’t be driving a car, let alone in the poor weather conditions. Ms. Matheson, a store regular, never rewound her tapes fully, always halfway. It drove Steve crazy, even though he expected it.
“We should have Nancy come by, since it’s so dead,” Steve stated casually as if he didn’t have ulterior motives. He was slumped in his chair, eyeballing Robin for any type of reaction. It was clear that she had feelings for Nancy. After everything that had happened at Starcourt the four of them had formed a bond. Hanging out together most days, sometimes including the kids.
“Don’t start,” Robin replied while flinging a piece of cardboard at him. It narrowly missed his head and landed on the dirty carpet behind him. “She’s my friend and straight, if you’ve forgotten. I’m not gonna indulge in whatever you’ve cooked up in that head of yours.” There was another boom of thunder, drowning out Steve’s exasperated sigh. It was the same conversation they’ve had about twenty times since Steve had picked up on Robin’s feelings.
“It’s just...sometimes when she’s looking at you. She’s looking at you. Ya know?” Steve explained. He was entirely convinced that Nancy felt at least something more than friendly for Robin. The two acted differently around each other. “And she knows you’re a lady lover. Maybe you’re like her gay awakening or something,” he finished, causing Robin to raise an eyebrow at him from across the counter.
“Whatever you say, Dingus.” It was clear that Robin didn’t believe a word he said. “Now, can you make yourself useful and hand me the duct tape,” she gestured to the roll that was out of her reach. He rolled his eyes as he passed it over to her.
He didn’t have the heart to mention that she was building it upside down.
_______________________________________________________________
Robin was beginning to lose her mind at a rapid rate. It was clear Steve was going to be no help in the situation as he sat on the far end of the couch, minding his business.
The three of them, minus Johnathan, had decided to have a casual Friday night movie marathon. That was nothing out of the ordinary, except the minute Steve flicked the lights off and started ‘A Nightmare on Elm Street’ Robin’s brain almost short circuited. Nancy, who was previously sitting a good distance away, curled into Robin’s side like it was the most casual thing in the world. She wiggled around enough that Robin had no choice but to wrap an arm around her small shoulders. They were now fifteen minutes into the film and Robin couldn’t process anything that was happening. She knew that her body was rigid and stiff, almost like a statue, but it was impossible to relax. What was Nancy doing? Sure, they had hugged before and the occasional times they’ve had to sit closely. Nothing like this had ever occurred, though.
Nancy seemed relaxed and engrossed in the movie. Robin had been side-eyeing her. Meanwhile, Steve continued to act like nothing strange was happening. Although Robin knew that he was fully aware of the situation at hand. The asshole was probably feeling pretty smug currently. Robin would’ve thrown popcorn at his stupid hair if her arm wasn’t already occupied. Despite the growing anxiety, it felt good to have Nancy against her. The girl was warm and small enough that she fit perfectly under her arm. Nancy’s arm that wasn’t wedged between them was laying gently across Robin’s stomach. It was all so...intimate. Robin had no idea what to think of it. This was the closest she had ever been to another girl before. On top of the fact that she had feelings for said girl.
That thought alone filled her with guilt almost immediately. Nancy was probably used to cuddling up to her girl friends like this, why should Robin be any different. The fact that Robin was a lesbian probably wasn’t even a thought in Nancy’s mind. The girl had taken the news in stride when Robin had slipped up and came out accidentally a month ago. Here Robin was, though, catching feelings for an innocent straight girl. A straight girl who was currently happily tucked into her side. Shit.
Robin stood up abruptly, dislodging Nancy and causing Steve to startle slightly. “Um, I have to pee,” she mumbled out unconvincingly before taking off down the short hallway. When she was finally locked in Steve’s small bathroom she let out a sigh of frustration. It was times like these that she wished she could just be normal. It took another few minutes to calm herself down enough but she knew she had to return to the couch eventually. It would look suspicious if she hid in the bathroom all night.
When she walked back out into the darkened room, Nancy glanced over at her with an unreadable expression. She quietly sat back down and did her best to avoid the two pairs of eyes that she could feel on her every so often.
Nancy kept her distance for the rest of the night.
________________________________________________________________
A week had passed since the ‘Movie Night incident’, as Steve had dubbed it, and things had only gotten stranger. To Robin’s horror, Nancy had been touchy feely with her every chance she got. Such as, entwining their hands while walking or resting her legs over Robin’s in the car. It was causing Robin to be in constant gay panic mode, which was exhausting to say the least. The more it occurred, the more Steve found it entirely amusing, though. Also, Nancy was always hanging around with them at the Video store. She’d stop in and bring them lunch, even if it was just for a few minutes. It was as if Nancy was doing everything in her power to give Robin a heart attack.
Despite everything, Robin could only feel herself falling harder for the other girl. It pissed her off. She could barely focus when the other girl was around. Currently, she was trying not to stare as Nancy walked into the store with all the kids trailing behind her. Dustin immediately made a beeline for Steve, who was stocking shelves. The others all screamed over each other about which movie to rent. Will, with his sweetheart face, gave a small wave to Robin as he passed. He would always be her favorite of the bunch.
“Hey Robin,” Nancy greeted casually, a small smirk on her face. She wore that expression a lot now and Robin couldn’t decipher it to save her life. “Sorry for the midday child tornado. I’m dropping them off at the Byers house but they wanted to stop for movies,” she joked. Robin had to swallow around the lump that had formed in her throat and waved her arm dismissively.
“Please, it’s been bleak around here anyway. The only person I’ve had to talk to was Dingus,” Robin responded, gesturing over to Steve, who was now surrounded by all the kids. He was probably getting ready to hand them over a movie that they shouldn't be watching at their age. Nancy let out a laugh and stepped forward until she was standing directly in front of Robin.
“Yeah, I know the feeling. Especially when I’m stuck watching Mike while our parents are out,” she spoke and then paused, leaning in a bit more. “Although, I am pretty jealous that he gets to hangout with you all day. Even if you have to deal with customer service.” Robin held her breath as Nancy just kind of stared at her with that same unreadable smirk. Before anything else could transpire between them, Max sprinted through them towards the register. The others followed behind soon after, all yelling about her movie choice. Nancy just rolled her eyes while Robin finally let air into her lungs again. The spell was broken after that as they both made their way over to the, still arguing, group.
Robin didn’t miss Steve making kissy faces at her from behind Nancy’s back. He’d seen the whole exchange.
________________________________________________________________
Another week passed by in much the same fashion. It all came crashing to a sudden halt when Nancy had stopped by the store on a Sunday afternoon. Steve wasn’t scheduled and it was just Robin watching the counter by herself. Nancy had only been there an hour before flustering Robin to her breaking point.
“Okay!” Robin shouted, causing Nancy to startle and take a step back. They had just finished their coffees that Nancy had gotten them while talking easily. When there was a moment of silence Nancy got that smirk on her face again. The one she’d been sporting constantly the last two weeks. Out of the blue, as if it wasn’t a huge deal, Nancy leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You can’t do that! You’re gonna kill me!” Robin continued to rant. She could feel the heat rushing to her face as Nancy just stared at her with wide eyes.
“Do you…um? Do you not have feelings for me?” Nancy asked hesitantly with confusion in her voice.
Robin sucked in a breath of air so forcefully that it made her cough a little. “What!” she wheezed out, grabbing ahold of the counter. Nancy had the decency to look sheepish as she shrugged her shoulders gently.
“I sort of overheard you and Steve talking about me. More specifically that you...liked me. But now I’m realizing I’m an idiot and probably misinterpreted the conversation,” she finished, taking another hesitant step back from Robin. “Oh god, you probably think I’m a freak now.” Robin just continued to stare at the other girl in shock. “You were just trying to be my friend and I was touching you constantly. I am so sorry,” Nancy ranted while waving her hands around anxiously. It was clear she was working herself up into an all out panic attack.
“Wait,” Robin startled, holding her hand up suddenly. “You were flirting with me?” The statement caused Nancy to stop her pacing and look at Robin.
“Well...yeah. Obviously,” she gritted out aggressively and crossed her arms over herself.
“Do you have feelings for me?” Robin yelped back. Nancy just scoffed and let out a bitter laugh.
“Jesus Christ, Robin, you’re really gonna make me say it? Yes...I like you, a lot. You’re funny and caring and I just feel comfortable around you,” Nancy’s words were mumbled out but Robin caught the whole thing.
“Holy shit, Nance,” Robin breathed out in disbelief. The other girl just looked up and glared back at her. With that look, Robin realized what a dumbass she’d been and smiled widely. Before Nancy could comment on it, Robin gathered all her courage and leaned forward to connect their lips. It took a few seconds for Nancy, who was probably confused, to kiss back. They stood there kissing gently while everything else around them faded away. Robin wrapped her arms around the smaller girl, pulling them as close as possible. She could feel Nancy smiling into the kiss.
It wasn’t until a few minutes later the sound of the door chiming broke them apart. Luckily, they were behind a shelf so the visitor couldn’t have seen what they were doing. Robin just rolled her eyes as Steve came strolling around the corner, though. Of course he’d make an appearance even on his day off. When he spotted the two of them he stopped dead in his tracks. It only took a moment for him to take note of Nancy’s blush before he smiled widely.
“You two look like you’re having fun,” he stated. In the next second he had to dodge Nancy’s swatting hands. Robin couldn’t keep the smile off her face even if she tried.
62 notes
·
View notes
Text
You Bring Me Home — Chapter One: Flightless Bird, American Mouth
a/n: I've been working on this story for mooonths now and I'm so excited to finally share it with the world! It's heavily inspired by Harry's Behind the Album mini doc, except I changed the setting to Hawai'i because I've personally spent some time there and as they say, write what you know! YBMH takes place in the period between One Direction's hiatus and Harry's first album/tour, but with that being said, this is entirely a work of fiction and some events don't follow the true timeline. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my little story, I hope you love it as much as I do! It will be updated every Friday at 5 PM PST. My inbox is open, so feel free to talk to me once you've finished reading! I'd love to hear from you :) Much love, Mel <3
Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character
Warnings: swearing
Word Count: 5.5k
May, 2016
Harry watches LAX get smaller through the airplane window and visualizes all of his worries stuck at the terminal gate, their magnitude also diminishing as he takes flight. He sinks lower in his seat and skims through playlists on his phone when a nagging feeling at the back of his mind pulls his attention away from the screen. Looking up from the song choices, he spots a cell phone quickly lowered from his line of vision and a girl with flushed cheeks who quickly averts her gaze. Harry shoots a tight-lipped smile in her direction and goes back to his phone with a sigh. The days when he could roam the streets freely without fear of recognition—or worse, harassment—feel like an entirely different lifetime. He sometimes imagines that he’ll wake up back in his childhood bed as if the past five years had all been a dream, but he never does. In fact, his privacy and anonymity seem to dwindle with each minute of radio play that One Direction receives. It’s a bittersweet pill to swallow, but one he hopes will go down easier with some time in the Hawaiian sun.
His close friend and new manager, Jeff Azoff, had suggested the vacation as soon as the band privately agreed to take a hiatus.
“You’ll go home for a few weeks,” his voice had crackled through the speakers of Harry’s phone. “Visit your mom and Gem, lay low for a while until the smoke blows over,”
Harry mulled it over in his mind, eyes flickering over the rolling landscape outside of the tour bus window.
“Then what?”
“Then you go for a little vacation. The label offered to cover a house in Hawaii so you can start working on the album,”
“Alone?”
Jeff chuckled lightly on the other end before responding. “I mean, if that’s what you want,”
“No,” Harry corrected. “You and Tom should come. Mitch and Bhasker, too,”
“The dream team,”
“And there’ll be a studio there?”
“Yes,” Jeff started, almost hesitant. “But I don’t want you to think about that too much,”
“But you said the label—"
“I also said vacation. Look, Rob said ‘it will all happen in due time,' did he not?”
Harry twisted the rose ring around his finger, tracing over the silver petals and thinking back to his conversation with the CEO of Sony Music, Rob Stringer. Upon the proposal of his debut solo album, Rob had told him that the most important ingredient for a successful debut would be patience. The singer had agreed in the moment, but every day not spent in the studio felt like a test he hadn’t studied hard enough for.
“Yeah.”
“So you take the free vacation,” Jeff suggested. “You go out, live, get some writing material. Maybe mess around with some tunes. And then we come back to L.A. and get to work. But until then, I just want you to focus on taking it easy.”
So take it easy he had. Or at least he had tried to when he was back home in England. Harry quickly grew restless after what felt like the millionth awkward conversation with past friends and acquaintances, all of which eventually led to the topic of One Direction and it’s unexpected hiatus. After one month at home, his mind and journal were full of ideas for songs, things that he wanted to say before he lost his nerve. One night as he tossed and turned in bed, he shot Jeff a text, just two words that would kick off a three month getaway to the Big Island of Hawai'i:
I’m ready.
********
“Sounds great, I'll go put in your order.” Alani offers sweetly, trying not to overdo it with the customer service voice. After waiting on the family at her designated table, she heads back to the kitchen and finds her younger sister, Pua, crouched in the corner taking what appears to be a serious phone call.
“I don’t know, I just saw it!” Her sister cries in a hushed tone. “Where do you think he’s going?”
“Is everything okay?” Alani cuts in with concern.
Pua whispers into the speaker before bringing the phone to her shoulder.
“Harry Styles was just spotted on a plane this morning,”
“Who?”
“The guy from One Direction,” her sister explains with a hint of irritation in her voice. “The band who sings that song you secretly like, ‘Fireproof,'”
Alani vaguely recalls the melody, but she waits expectantly for Pua to elaborate. “And this is news because…”
“Because the band just broke up, so where could he possibly be going?”
"The unemployment office?”
Pua rolls her eyes and returns to her phone call while Alani envelops her in a tight hug.
“I’m just kidding!” Alani apologizes, squeezing tighter despite her sister’s attempts to break free. “I’m sure he’ll be living off of royalty checks until he’s, like, eighty,”
“Get off me, freak!” Pua cries out, finally breaking the embrace.
Alani clutches her chest and pulls out an invisible knife. “Ouch. I’m telling Harry you said that,”
“This is exactly why I don’t tell you things.” the younger sister huffs, storming out of the kitchen through the employee entrance where Alani’s best friend, Maleah, has just arrived.
“Looks like someone forgot to eat their Cheerios today,” she remarks, tying her curls into a high ponytail.
Alani shrugs and leans against the counter. “She’s going through something. Just discovered that boys in pop bands are, in fact, just regular boys.”
“Poor thing,” Maleah frowns. “We all have to learn eventually.”
********
The sky is a blend of cotton candy pink and burnt orange when Alani returns home from the café with a strawberry smoothie in tow. She empties the mailbox and sorts through the various bills and advertisements, but her stomach drops when she sees a familiar return address label. After a quick greeting to her excited dog who waits at the door, Alani bolts up the stairs and quietly shuts the bedroom door behind her. Breathe, she reminds herself before tearing into the envelope and discarding it onto the wooden floor.
Dear Ms. Hale,
We are very grateful to have received your submission to Rolling Stone magazine. However, we regret to inform you—
She doesn’t read the rest, slumping to the floor in defeat. The sixth rejection letter from Rolling Stone lies crumpled at Alani’s feet and she kicks it across the room with a frustrated grunt. She had worked for over two months perfecting her analysis of Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi and its allusions to the environmental impact of urban development in Hawaii. As part of her initial research, Alani had even traveled to both the Royal Hawaiian hotel in Honolulu, which is the famous Pink Hotel mentioned in the song, and Foster Botanical Garden that Mitchell referred to as “the tree museum.” She was certain that her effort and persistence would result in at least a consideration. The second third time's the charm! Maleah had joked watching Alani submit the piece. Six articles in the span of two years, each one facing the same rejection despite the increased effort Alani had put in over time. The fact that the rejection letter hadn’t changed over the course of the two years brings an incredulous smile to her face, and her stomach turns when she considers that the editors probably hadn’t even read her work, anyway. All that effort, she thinks to herself, all that time, for nothing.
“It will take time,” her favorite professor, Dr. Hudson, had reassured her three months after the Joni Mitchell article was submitted. “Every great writer faced countless rejection until that one piece. Yours will come. Keep your eyes open and your pen ready.”
Alani sighs and lifts herself off the floor, choosing to crawl into her unmade bed instead of slumping onto the hardwood. She hears a soft scratching at the door before her King Charles Spaniel, Freddie, pads into the room.
“Come here, bubs,” Alani whispers. He obeys and burrows into the duvet, giving her temple a gentle lick before nuzzling into the nape of her neck.
“You still love me, right?” she asks, voice cracking. “Even if I’m a failure?”
Freddie sniffs her ear in response.
********
“Right,” Harry says, his tongue peeking from the corner of his mouth as he reads the map. “No, left, sorry,”
“Do you actually know how to read a map?” Jeff teases, correcting the turn.
Harry pouts in response, his brows furrowing. “In my defense, we’re literally in the middle of fucking nowhere,”
“There are worse places to be,” Mitch pipes up from the back seat. “England, for example, where they say things like ‘litchrally’,”
“Very well said, Mitchell,” Jeff Bhasker adds with a fake British accent of his own.
Harry turns to his friends in the back seat with a finger pointed like an agitated mother. “If you lot don’t shut up, I’m gonna lead us to a volcano and push you in,”
“Where are we even going? I forgot,” Tom complains.
“To get food,” his manager responds from the driver’s seat. “I think,”
“Why can’t we just stop there?” Mitch asks pointing to a café pulling up on their right.
Jeff merges into the turning lane quickly without a second thought. “Good enough for me, I’m starving.”
“Sorry, H.” Mitch pats his friend on the shoulder.
Harry scoffs. “You’re the one who wanted poke.”
The Aloha Nui Loa Café is much more spacious than the exterior suggests, yet it still feels cozy. The walls are painted sage green and adorned with various local art pieces, as described by the plaques that accompany them. A skylight fills the center of the room with plenty of warm lighting, leaving the space along the walls in a bit more shade for an intimate feel. In one corner, a hanging disco ball leaves freckles of sparkling light along the walls where the sunlight hits, making the whole image very idyllic in Harry’s mind. As if he couldn’t enjoy the setting more, he hears the beginning of an Otis Redding song that he’s had stuck in his head drift through the restaurant speakers.
“Welcome in!” a voice calls, which pulls him from his survey of the room. His head whips to the source—a girl around his age with wavy, dark hair and honey skin. “For here or to go?”
Harry takes a hesitant step up to the counter. “For here,”
She smiles warmly and pulls some menus from under the counter. “How many in your party?”
“Five.”
“Great, follow me.”
Harry and his friends follow the waitress to the corner of the room under the disco ball and take their seats at the round table.
“My name is Alani,” she introduces herself, setting the menus down. “I’ll be serving you today. Can I get you started with some drinks?”
Harry continues scanning the restaurant while his group orders. His eyes land on the shirt that Alani is wearing, a white tee with the words “Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey” in blue lettering that surrounds a picture of a cartoon bee.
“Harry,” Jeff says gently, catching his drifting attention.
The singer turns to his manager, who nods to Alani waiting with a pen pressed to her notepad. Harry feels a rush of embarrassment creep across his cheeks and he clears his throat to cover it.
“Just water,” he says, eyes glued to the menu. “Thanks.”
“You got it.” Alani nods, flashing a toothy grin at the rest of the group before turning back to the kitchen. Harry. Her mind repeats, finding a hint of familiarity, though she doesn’t know why.
When Alani arrives at the drink station, she finds her sister staring at her, mouth agape, while Maleah unsuccessfully conceals her laughter.
“What?” she questions, checking herself for any embarrassing stains or smells.
“You were—and he—” Pua stammers. “He was—and then he—”
“That’s Harry Styles,” Maleah translates, her voice hushed as she peers over her friend's shoulder.
Alani turns to steal a glance at the table she just seated, but Pua and Maleah latch onto her and shake their heads frantically.
“Don’t look!” her sister hisses.
Alani smirks, amused at their reactions. “No shit. That’s One Direction?”
Maleah snorts, clasping a hand over her mouth as Pua huffs. “No, dumbass! It’s just Harry. I don’t know who the other guys are,”
“But the blonde guy? That’s not—?”
“No!” Pua and Maleah giggle in unison.
“Okay, geez,” Alani relents. She manages to steal a quick glance at the table over her shoulder, immediately searching for Harry. Her eyes scan over the long, curly hair kept out of his face by a pair of white sunglasses that she had seen on Kurt Cobain once. All of his features are sharp and striking, from his pointed nose and defined jawline to the bright blue eyes. Or maybe they were grey? Alani wonders, trying to remember the exact shade. He doesn’t look anything like the fresh-faced teeny bopper she’d had in mind, the one from a music video her sister had shown her a long time ago. She would have never guessed that the What Makes You Beautiful singer had so much dark ink trailing down his bicep and forearm, though her knowledge of One Direction was very limited.
“What did he order?” Pua questions, her eyes wide.
Alani quickly snaps back to reality and resumes filling the drinks. “A water,”
“Oh my god,” Maleah swoons. “I’m never drinking anything else ever again,”
“I didn’t even know you liked him,” Alani teases with an eyebrow raised.
Maleah sneaks another peek at the table and catches her lower lip between her teeth. “I mean, I didn’t really think so either but look at him. What a fucking dream,”
Harry was objectively handsome, this Alani could admit, but she personally didn’t see the appeal and had a strong feeling that he was just like every other male celebrity. The fact that he hadn’t even bothered to make eye contact with her only served as further proof of what she knew to be true.
“Okay, well, your dreamboat is waiting for his water. So excuse me,” Alani winks, making her way back to the table.
The singer spots Alani returning out of the corner of his eye and the sight of her causes a strange flutter in the pit of his stomach that makes him want to duck for cover. Instead, he pulls his phone from his back pocket and pretends to be occupied with something on the screen.
“Okay,” she greets, setting the drink tray down. “I have a Blue Hawaii, a Mango Mama, two Loco Cocos, and a water,”
The group graciously accepts their drinks with a chorus of “thank you," but the only one under Alani’s scrutiny is Harry. He still doesn’t meet her almond eyes, and though she figured he wouldn’t, she can’t help the inkling of disappointment that washes over her. After taking their meal orders, Alani heads back to the kitchen, checking on her other customers along the way. Harry’s eyes follow her and he observes the way customers light up at her presence, indulging her conversation with laughter. He watches as she lingers by the jukebox in one corner of the room, a detail he had missed in his initial scan, and waits anxiously to see what song she chooses. Baby I’m-a Want You begins softly and Harry feels the corner of his lip curl ever so slightly. Good choice, he thinks.
********
“He’s still here,” Pua muses, peering through the tiny window in the kitchen door. It had been nearly two hours and the five men were still seated around their table cracking jokes and doing a lot of talking with their hands.
Alani doesn’t look up from her bowl of sliced kiwis, offering a hum in response. “And what do you want me to do about that?”
“Nothing,” Pua shoots back. “Don’t bother him,”
“What kind of girls do you think he’s into?” Maleah asks, attempting to peek through the window.
Alani shrugs, bored of the conversation and of thinking about Harry. “I don’t know, but I’ll bet he’s a real sucker for the ones who stalk him while he’s eating,”
“How does he make eating a salad look hot?”
“Can we talk about something else now?” Alani whines, poking holes in a lone kiwi with her fork.
Pua tosses a wet dish rag in her sister’s direction and cheers when it lands in her face. “Go see if he wants more water, he looks thirsty.”
“I already refilled it,” Alani defends. “Twenty minutes ago. I’ve refilled it a hundred times, I’m surprised he hasn’t peed his pants.”
I’m gonna piss myself. Harry thinks, his right leg bouncing to distract himself. He really wasn’t all that thirsty, but he couldn’t stop himself from finishing each glass of water that Alani placed in front of him. He really wasn’t all that thirsty, but he couldn’t stop himself from finishing each glass of water that Alani placed in front of him. Like clockwork, she would return to fill his glass almost as soon as the last drop had been drained, and so what began as a little experiment slowly turned into a bladder hazard. But if the trend was to be trusted, she would be back any minute and he wasn’t going to miss it; afterall, there were only so many ways to casually linger in a small café without making it weird. Unable to bear it any longer, he heads to the restroom and hopes that Alani doesn’t clear their table before he has a chance to see her again.
Harry pads down the back hallway with his eyes cast down at the floor, which proves to be a mistake when he walks directly into another person.
“Sorry!” they both apologize quickly, Harry’s palm taking purchase on the other person’s upper arm.
“I wasn’t paying attention,” he offers, finally meeting the dark, mocha eyes already looking back at him.
Alani presses her lips into a tight smile. “Me either,”
Harry’s heartbeat picks up when he realizes it’s her, and he isn’t aware of how close they’re standing until he detects the faint scent of kiwi on her breath. He takes a step back and rakes a hand through his hair.
“So I guess I’ll just—”
“Yeah, sure.”
Green. Alani notes to herself. His eyes are green.
********
Shortly after Harry returned from the restroom, him and his friends settled their bill and headed out. Alani cleared their table and her eyes nearly fell out of her head when she saw the hefty tip left behind. The word mahalo was also left behind on the receipt, underlined twice, and she wondered if it was his handwriting.
Later that night, she settled into bed with her laptop and hesitantly typed his name into Google. As she expected, countless articles about the split of One Direction emerged, most of them speculating what was next for each member. To her surprise, however, Harry’s name seemed to be mentioned more than his fellow bandmates as various sources labeled him “the next Justin Timberlake” and rising star of the group. Upon further investigation, she learned that the demand for information about the elusive Harry Styles was high, especially concerning any possible solo music. No news had yet been confirmed by Styles himself, nor anyone claiming to represent him, but she still wondered if his presence in Hawaii had anything to do with a possible solo project. Almost as soon as she thought it, Alani dismissed the theory in favor of the idea that he was most likely just taking a vacation. And from the buzz that she saw surrounding the news about One Direction, she couldn’t blame him.
The more Alani read, the more she wanted to know, and something deep down told her that his was a story worth telling. Of course, the only problem was that she had hardly talked to him, and there were only so many things she could say about the fifteen glasses of water he downed. There was no way of knowing if she would ever see him again, either, or if he was merely stopping in Hilo on his way to another island or somewhere else entirely. Alani sighed, thinking back to her most recent rejection from Rolling Stone. She knew that there was no possible way she would ever see or talk to Harry ever again, and even if she did, why would he bare his entire soul to a stranger? Still, she let her mind wander through the possibility.
Dear Ms. Hale, the letter would read, we are very grateful to have received your submission to Rolling Stone magazine and are pleased to inform you that your piece on Harry Styles will be featured in next month’s issue. Additionally, we would be honored to have you on staff, effective immediately.
It was far-fetched, Alani knew this, but she dozed off that night with endless ideas swimming in her head.
********
By the third day after his visit, the only trace of Harry is in Alani’s search history. She would have completely forgotten about him if it weren’t for her sister’s constant reminiscing and multiple attempts to rename the house salad to the “Harry Special.” As a result, a part of Alani’s thoughts periodically linger back to that day and the subsequent hours spent on Google that she’d rationalized as research instead of stalking. Somehow the knowledge that she’ll never see him again only adds fuel to the questions still burning in her mind, but a customer clearing their throat while she sorts menus below the hostess podium interrupts her thoughts.
“Welcome in!” She calls, standing. “What can I—”
She stops in her tracks, unable to believe her eyes. Harry blinks and waits for her to continue.
“What can I get started for you?” Alani tries again, hoping that he hadn’t noticed her shock. Luckily for her, Harry had been too focused on choosing his next words to register her mistake.
“What’s in the Honu smoothie?” he asks, mentally kicking himself for asking such a stupid question when the menu just inches above her head clearly spells it out.
Alani hums, thinking back to the times she had made the smoothie herself. “Kiwis, spinach, mango, avocado, and a hint of lime,”
“I’ll take one of those,” Harry says, reaching for his wallet.
Alani punches in the order with trembling fingers and nods. “For here or to go?”
“To go,”
Disappointment fills her chest. Sure, she hadn’t planned on seeing him ever again, but the fact that she did felt like a sign. If she wanted to take the chance, she’d have to do it fast.
“Anything else?” she asks, weighing her options while he skims the menu.
“No thanks.”
Alani makes the smoothie quickly, head spinning. She had spent most of the night after their initial meeting planning out exactly the type of questions she hoped to ask him and what kind of article she would write. She was used to writing about what she knew—artists and music she’d admired for years— but she figured that starting fresh with someone she hardly knew would be a good challenge. Not to mention that it seemed like just the thing Rolling Stone would jump for. Alani finally works up the courage as she finishes his smoothie, but when she returns to hand it to him and hopefully strike up a conversation, his ear is pressed to his cell phone. She holds out the drink and he graciously accepts, giving her a small nod as a “thank you” and rushing out of the restaurant.
Two days later he returns and is seated at the counter, typing away on his phone. Alani feels both a rush of optimism and annoyance at the universe for dangling his presence so unexpectedly. She starts heading over to him, but Maleah cuts in.
“Trade me?” she proposes, eyes wide.
Alani blinks. “Oh, I would but I—”
“Please,” her best friend pouts. “I’m leaving to see my grandparents in stupid California for two months. Who knows when I’ll get the chance to see him again?”
Alani sighs, but gives in, reluctantly exchanging Harry for the family of four seated by the window. A strange feeling settles into the pit of his stomach when he sees that she heads in the opposite direction after a hushed conversation with another waitress. He doesn’t know why she traded him for a different customer, but he takes the hint.
A week goes by without another sighting of Harry and Alani has permanently taken on the role of greeting hostess in hopes of seeing him again. Her heartbeat temporarily speeds up when she sees a long haired customer approach the door, but her spirits quickly fall when the face doesn’t match his.
Another week brings another disappointing realization that Harry might be gone for good. One rainy morning when the restaurant is quiet and only two customers huddle together in a booth near the back, Alani hunches over the hostess podium and doodles on a stray receipt— a sunflower, a crescent moon, and two hearts. The bell above the door jingles but she doesn’t look up, too absorbed in her scribbles.
“Do you serve coffee?”
The familiar accented voice stops Alani’s pen dead in its tracks. She lifts her eyes first to confirm, and then straightens up when she sees that her ears haven’t deceived her.
“Yes,” she swallows.
“Great. I’ll take it to go,”
She slightly deflates, but Harry thinks he’s reading too much into it.
“Actually,” he corrects anyway, just in case he isn’t. “I think I’ll stay for a while,”
Alani flashes a warm smile and nods in the direction of the counter. “Right this way,”
Harry sheds his windbreaker onto the back of the seat, revealing a black and white Rolling Stones t-shirt that makes Alani’s blood pressure rise. A sign, she thinks.
“What do you want in your coffee?” she questions carefully.
“Nothing,” he responds, shaking out his damp hair gently. “Or actually, uh, butter...if you have some,”
Alani blinks, not sure if she’d heard correctly or if there had been some transatlantic miscommunication.
“Butter?”
“Yeah,”
“Like the—”
“Spread, yeah,” Harry confirms. “It’s weird, I know,”
She lets out a light-hearted laugh and nods. “It’s a...unique request,”
“I thought the same thing at first,” Harry confides. “It’s not bad, actually. But maybe I’ve just been in L.A. for too long.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
She offers a polite smile and heads to the kitchen where the cook and two other waiters talk amongst each other. Alani is grateful that the restaurant is slow this morning because she knows that it means minimal interruptions to her time with Harry. To ensure this, though, she asks one of the other waiters to cover the podium and returns to Harry with his coffee.
“One butter coffee, free of judgement,” the waitress announces, setting it down.
Harry grins softly, stirring the drink with the spoon Alani provided. “You can judge, it’s alright,”
“I just wanna know why,”
The coffee had been part of a fad diet while on tour in order to boost Harry’s energy on stage and stay trim for the hundreds of photo-ops he would be a part of. He doesn’t know how to communicate all of this to Alani, however, not sure how much she knows about that part of him, so he shrugs and tells a simplified version of the truth.
“I read about this trend a while back, it's called bulletproof coffee. Supposed to get your energy up and I needed it for my job,”
“Which is…” Alani trails off, downplaying the knowledge that she had acquired from Google.
“I make music,” is all Harry says and he takes a sip of the drink to avoid elaborating.
“Anything I would have heard?”
He swallows hard and listens to the faint rumbling of thunder outside before replying. “Possibly,”
“Try me,” Alani challenges.
He narrows his eyes and takes another sip of coffee. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself first?”
“What do you wanna know?”
Everything, Harry responds internally, though he reigns it in. “How you got into waitressing,”
Alani sighs, resting her elbows on the counter across from him. “There’s not much to tell, it’s a family business. What I really wanna do is write,”
“Music?”
“Articles. I’m studying Journalism at UH,”
Harry hums in response, filing the detail away in the back of his mind. “Sounds interesting. You ever publish anything?”
“Not yet,” Alani shakes her head gently, toying with the sleeves of her green University of Hawaii crewneck. “Hopefully soon, though,”
Harry racks his brain for something else to say, but before he can, Alani speaks up again.
“Is it my turn to ask something now?”
He offers a curt nod and stirs his coffee.
“What kind of music do you write?”
Harry chooses to be vague again. “Different stuff. Pop, usually. Been messing with some classic rock, though,”
“Explains the shirt,”
He peers down at the design on his tee and agrees. “Yeah, I guess so,”
“Do you like it?” Alani asks, her eyes begging to make contact with his again. “Writing music, I mean,”
“Yeah,” Harry confirms, tapping his spoon against the rim of the mug. “I really do,”
Alani’s heart pounds. This is her chance, a moment to finally secure her breakthrough piece. She doesn’t know how to approach it, so she opts to dive right in without looking back. The worst he can say is no.
“Can I ask you something else?”
“That’s cheating,” Harry teases lightly. “It's my turn,”
She pouts playfully, but obliges. “Fire away,”
Harry doesn’t know which question to ask first, but when he glances down at the crescent moon inked on her wrist, he decides to start there.
“What’s with the moon tattoo?”
Alani isn’t sure what she expected him to ask and wonders what purpose such a detail could possibly serve him, but she answers anyway.
“Oh, well,” she begins, tracing her index finger over the outline. “It’s kinda the meaning of my full name. It’s Mahealani, Hawaiian for ‘heavenly moon,'”
Fitting, Harry comments to himself. Every detail he learns about her makes him want to learn that much more, from her favorite foods to the last thing she thinks about before falling asleep. Studying her expectant eyes, he suddenly remembers that it’s his turn to respond.
“That’s cool,” is all he says.
Alani doesn’t know what to make of the faraway look in his eye, but she decides to pose her most burning question while he appears to be in good spirits.
“I know this is gonna sound totally out of the blue,” she starts, working past the lump in her throat. “But when you mentioned how you write music, I was just reminded of this assignment I’m working on in my class,”
Harry waits for her to continue, nursing his now lukewarm coffee.
“I’m supposed to write a piece about someone who I don’t know that well,” she continues. “You know, to practice our interviewing skills. And, well, I was just kind of wondering if you might be interested in helping me out—being the subject, I mean,”
Alani had every intention of telling Harry the truth, about how she really planned to submit the article to Rolling Stone in hopes of securing an internship before her college graduation next Spring. But as she started speaking, she quickly realized how it would come off: a complete stranger asking for personal information to submit to a well-known publication. She knew that there was a chance he would shut down and never return, so she lowered the stakes and hoped that this route would be less risky. Was it ethical? Alani hadn’t decided yet, but she would work out the details later. After six failed articles and two years of rejection, she saw a ray of hope and wasn’t going to let it slip away.
Harry ponders her offer for a moment, which confirms that she had recognized him. Normally he would be off-put by such a request, and to a certain extent he is, but there is something sincere in her voice that he trusts deep down. Before he agrees, however, he decides to fish around a bit to test her reaction.
“You know who I am,” he says gently. “Don’t you?”
Alani’s heart drops into the pit of her stomach, not sure what to say next. She hopes with every fiber of her being that she hasn’t upset him, or worse, ruined her chances, so she decides to offer some truth to throw him off her scent.
“My sister recognized you,” she explains. “That day you came in with your friends. I thought they were your bandmates at first,”
This lets Harry know that she isn’t a total stalker, which is comforting, but he wouldn’t have been minded if she were a fan simply engaging in conversation.
“Oh,” he laughs weakly.
“I totally understand if you say no,” Alani offers quickly, trying to smooth things over. “I just thought it was worth a shot. And that it might be more interesting than interviewing our produce guy,”
Harry decides to give her one last scan for any sign of insincerity. He’d always felt that his gut instinct was strong and it hadn’t led him astray thus far.
“An interview?” he clarifies.
“Just one,” Alani promises. “An hour, tops. And you can proofread all of it once I’ve finished, too.”
Harry waits a beat, already knowing his reply, but he wants to see how she will react to his silence. She doesn’t budge, almond eyes set and determined.
“Okay.”
next chapter
#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles writing#harry styles x oc#harry styles fluff#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fic#ybmh#she's here she's here she's here!!!!!
102 notes
·
View notes
Text
For Olivia | Chapter Three
Author’s Note: We’re still in fluffy territory right now, but things pick up in the next part. I’m having so much fun writing this! Hey, look at me. Writing fluff. Who would have thought? Not me.
Characters: Chef Coco Cruz & Black OC
Chapter Summary: Coco and Olivia officially meet for the first time.
Previous Chapter: Two
Chapter Three
On Park Sundays, Olivia’s always the first one to stir in the apartment. There’s an initial panic just as Shanice remembers what’s supposed to happen on this particular Sunday, but the feeling subsides to an undercurrent as she’s getting Olivia ready. Shanice takes her time in the closet, carefully considering her wardrobe this morning. She opts for a fitted tee and jeans instead of her usual hoodie and hat combo.
She catches her reflection in the mirror and slows her movements, suddenly finding this extra work is ridiculous for someone who may not even show. The anxiety begins to creep up again, slinking into the room.
What if she hates him? Shanice thinks. Or worse, what if she loves him and then he abandons her?
She doesn’t dwell on these thoughts for very long because Olivia is pulling her out the door soon after finishing breakfast. Shanice is still chewing a piece of toast when they get onto the highway.
They’re only at the playground for half an hour and Olivia’s disheveled clothing already looks like she’s halfway through finishing a decathlon. Shanice is watching Olivia go down the slide when she receives a text from Coco, signaling that he’s five minutes away. She beckons to Olivia, and she reluctantly trudges over.
“I don’t wanna leave yet,” Olivia begins to whine in protest.
“No, no, we’re not leaving,” Shanice shakes her head. “Remember I’ve been telling you that mommy’s friend from the other night might come to the park?”
Olivia shrugs, longingly gazing over at the rush of kids now heading to the wooden pirate ship. “The man that bringed the pizza?”
“He didn’t bring–” Shanice shakes the thought out of her head. “Yes, him. He’s coming over here to say hello.”
“How come?”
“Well, you know, he really likes the park, so when I told him we were going to be here, he asked to join us,” Shanice explains in logic that only makes sense to a child. “All you have to do is say hello and remember your manners. That’s it.”
Olivia waits impatiently, fidgeting back and forth on her feet. Shanice is thankful when she finally catches a glimpse of Coco rising from a car in the parking lot. She lifts Olivia and sets the child on her hip as Coco closes the distance between himself and the girls.
“Glad you made it,” Shanice greets him with a smile, and she’s genuinely relieved he’s kept this first promise. “Olivia, can you say hi to Johnny for me?”
Olivia shrinks at the attention, as she usually does with strangers. “Hi,” she says, turning into Shanice’s shoulder.
Coco’s lips part into a crescent, but he can only suck in a quick, soundless breath. His mouth wordlessly falters before smiling and giving way to simple yet weighted beginnings. “It’s nice to meet you, Olivia. You can call me Coco if you want.”
“Kay,” Olivia’s voice comes out no more than a breath as she lays her head on Shanice’s shoulder and pulls a few of Shanice’s shoulder-length twists over her eyes. Olivia curls in closer, attempting to disappear against the woman.
“It’s alright,” Shanice whispers back, giving a small squeeze. It’s alright, it’s alright. “Do you want to go back?”
Olivia nods slowly and Shanice lets her slink back to the ground.
“Where I can see you!” Shanice calls out to the small, retreating figure before stepping off to the side with some of the other parents. Coco sidesteps to follow her lead.
“Sorry.” Shanice can’t help but apologize. “Olivia’s just really shy around people.”
“Not your fault I’m a stranger,” Coco says. “Maybe I should’ve brought her a gift or something-”
“She doesn’t need gifts,” Shanice shakes her head, holding up her hand to stop him mid-sentence. “Just a little time, if you’re willing to give her yours. She’s a completely different kid when she’s comfortable.”
Coco’s sheepish gaze lands on Olivia and it follows her as she chases another girl over to the ship’s nautical wheel. Without taking his eyes off the children, he starts speaking. “I got another daughter, you know. That hostess at the restaurant?” He turns to Shanice, and she nods to both acknowledge and encourage. “My mom pretty much raised her as my sister until she was twelve. That’s when we let her know, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so pissed. Got her a laptop and a new phone, thinking it would make her happy. She set them both behind my car one day, so I rolled right over them when I was backing out.”
Shanice suddenly snorts and Coco looks at her strangely at the outburst. She cups her mouth with both hands, but it does little to stifle her growing laughter. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to say all that.”
“I didn’t even mean to unload that family drama on you,” Coco chuckles, watching her laughter settle. His face contorts into an incredulous half-grin. “Don’t know why I even told you that.”
Shanice understands what he means. Their first two meetings they share are tense, but she allows herself to be nicer today until she’s given a reason not to be. As they speak, this moment is oddly comfortable. Like meeting an old friend…under the strangest circumstances.
“I haven’t been a teacher very long,” Shanice begins, composing herself, “But I’ve learned that teenagers are some of the most vindictive people in the world. Exceptional grudge-holders. It’s pretty impressive, actually.”
Coco smiles as he nods, thoughts briefly somewhere else. “Yeah, Letty’s good at that.”
“Couldn’t help but notice she wasn’t in school,” Shanice leads, trying not to seem like she’s being judgmental or prying, but she is pretty nosy.
“We’re in the middle of moving her into my place. I gotta get her registered for school and all that, so my mom can go traveling Europe and shiiii…” Coco’s voice strains towards the end when he realizes he’s about to swear in the middle of the playground. “She deserves to travel and have some fun after raising Letty. But it’s about to be all on me, and I’m just…”
“Scared?” she offers, and he shrugs. “Understandable. I’m not an expert, but kids mostly just need to feel safe, be encouraged, and be able to trust you.”
“I had all that and still ended up in jail.”
“Good point,” She playfully concedes with a shrug. “Sometimes you just gotta cross your fingers and hope for the best.”
After a beat, he knits his eyebrows together as he recalls something. “Wait, where do you teach?”
“I’m an English teacher at Damon Pope.”
His eyebrows raise in surprise, “That’s where Letty starts on Monday.”
“Really?” Shanice shares a similar look of disbelief. “So, you don’t live too far away from us.”
“Right at the edge of town,” he tells her. They get quiet, leaving things unsaid. He’d been living so close to Olivia and didn’t even realize until recently. Within the same school district.
Their conversation is benign after the awkward break. They opt for small talk until Olivia runs over with wood chips sticking to her feet and her hair coming out of her puffs.
“Can we go eat?” she asks, huffing and puffing.
“You want your PB&J?” Shanice asks, reaching to fix her hair.
“PB&J and pizza!” Olivia exclaims with a smile, throwing her tiny fists in the air.
Shanice makes a disgusted face, “Pizza again?”
Coco chimes in with an idea. “How about somethin’ with less preservatives? You two could come back to the restaurant.”
Olivia’s stomach answers for them both.
________
Once at Tres Reyes, Shanice is again overwhelmed by the amazing smell coming from the kitchen. She’d been secretly craving the food since stepping foot inside the restaurant. Letty’s at the front desk and she does a double take when she sees Coco being followed in by Shanice and the little girl.
“This is Letty,” Coco tells her, tapping his hand on the podium twice to pull her attention towards him. She is unabashedly staring at the child. Her little sister. “Letty, this is Shanice and Olivia.”
Shanice and Letty share very heavy nice to meet you’s.
“Where’s jefe?” He asks with a nod.
“Next door, yelling at Chucky again,” Letty tells him, staring at Olivia.
Letty puffs out her cheeks and crosses her eyes, making Olivia giggle through her teeth against Shanice’s shoulder.
“She’s so cute,” Letty gushes, but her voice is low as she seems to be speaking only to herself.
Coco surveys the restaurant with a glance. “It’s pretty slow, you want to help me with something?”
Letty nods.
“I’m gonna bring out a few things,” Coco says as he leads them through the restaurant before landing at a booth near the service window.
Coco throws an arm over Letty’s shoulder and whispers something in her ear as they walk towards the kitchen. By the soothing look in his eyes, Shanice can tell it’s an apology. He doesn’t expect to have his two daughters meet this way, and the weight of the moment doesn’t fully register until now. They go to the back for a while and an older woman with long dark hair approaches the table.
“I’m Vicki,” the waitress greets them. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Just a ginger ale for me, please,” Shanice says.
Vicki turns to Olivia, “And what about you, princesa?”
“Apple juice, please,” Olivia speaks slightly muffled, biting the collar of her shirt. Shanice tugs the fabric from between her teeth.
Vicki smiles, giving them both a knowing look before walking away from the table. She wonders how many people Coco has told about what’s happening. Everyone is in on this big secret except Olivia.
Coco and Letty soon walk out with three trays filled with small bowls of toppings. On a single tray was a small tortilla. They place them on the table and Letty seems to linger until the restaurant door opens. She hesitates but leaves to tend to the incoming customers.
“This is kinda like a pizza. We can put anything on it,” Coco explains, picking up the first bowl.
Shanice encourages the moment, “This all looks so good, doesn’t it, Mushroom?”
Olivia only nods, still uncomfortable about her surroundings. She settles onto her knees with her hands flat on the table as she leans closer. She scrunches her face up, squinting with one eye at something in particular. “Where’s a’sauce?”
“We’re gonna spread this on it instead,” Coco says, holding up the bowl of refried beans. He demonstrates spreading it on half the tortilla. “You wanna try?”
Shanice watches as the words spark excitement in Olivia’s eyes. What Olivia actually hears is ‘You wanna help me make a mess?’ Her favorite pastime. She takes the spoon Coco’s offers and starts spreading the beans on the rest of the tortilla.
“Good, now you can put anything you want on it,” Coco tells her, pushing a bowl of shredded cheese towards her.
She dips her little fingers in the bowl and starts sprinkling it all over the pizza, but it mostly gets on the table. She takes some of the cheese from the table in the other hand and stuffs it in her mouth.
“Hey!” Shanice says, briefly tickling both Olivia’s sides, eliciting a loud laugh. She involuntarily brings her arms down to shield her sides. “Don’t eat all the ingredients!” Olivia just eats more, laughing louder.
Coco gets a playful look on his face before taking a small piece of diced tomato. He throws the piece in the air and catches it in his mouth. Olivia is astonished, immediately tries to do the same with the cheese, but it ends up all around her like confetti. Some lands in her hair, but Olivia only laughs again.
“Boy…” Shanice slowly sets her gaze on Coco, giving him a comically blank stare.
Olivia has a diced tomato in her hand aimed like a baseball. She throws the tomato at Coco and he expertly catches it in his mouth. Before Shanice can say anything else, Olivia throws a handful of cheese at her, expecting Shanice to also catch it in her mouth, but it catches her off guard. Cheese falls on her chest and soldiers.
“Sorry,” Olivia sings, but she doesn’t look sorry at all. She’s smiling from ear to ear, stuffing more cheese in her mouth.
Coco lets out a laugh as Shanice eats the cheese from her shirt. In that moment, Shanice can see what Mel found attractive about him four years ago. She notices the dimple in his cheek deepening every time he smiles.
“Love that you taught her that,” Shanice says with playful sarcasm, as she picks cheese out of her hair. “Alright, let’s finish so we can eat the, uh…”
“It’s called a tlayuda,” Coco finishes.
“A yuda?” Olivia questions.
Coco smirks at her pronunciation “Yeah, it’s almost like a pizza.”
“Kay,” Olivia says, focusing on putting more toppings on the tlayuda.
A few moments later, Letty returns with a much neater version of the dish. Her mouth waters at the strips of steak, cheese, and fresh avocado loaded onto the tortilla.
“Sit with us?” Shanice suggests. Letty doesn’t hesitate, sliding next to Coco and bumping him in the process. Coco dramatically crashes into the booth’s half wall, eliciting another giggle from Olivia. Slowly, the little girl Shanice is familiar with begins to emerge.
“Hi, Olivia,” Letty greets her again. She’s trying to make eye contact with a preoccupied Olivia, as if she’s trying to get the attention of the cool kid at school. “I’m Letty.”
“Hi,” Olivia croaks out between haphazard bites of the tlayuda she’s made. She greets Letty out of reflex and immediately looks up when she realizes three sets of eyes are on her. Olivia suddenly plops down on Shanice’s lap, pushing the back of her head against her chest.
“So Letty,” Shanice begins, wrapping her arm across Olivia. “We’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other. I teach over at Damon Pope.”
“Forreal?” Letty asks slyly as she takes out her waitress pen and pad from her apron. She wets the pen with the tip of her tongue. “And which class is that again?”
Shanice lets out a small laugh when Coco’s eyebrows furrow suspiciously. “Why you wanna know?”
“I’m just assuming it wouldn’t hurt to know the teacher personally.”
“I teach English, but I’m kind of known for being a tough grader.”
“Ooh, then forget it,” Letty says, putting her pen and pad down on the table. Coco tsked.
Shanice can’t help but laugh, “Mr. Kochiss teaches British Lit, and I’ve heard a lot of students say that his class has a more…relaxed grading policy,” Shanice says, choosing her words correctly. “But you seem to be a very intelligent girl. If you want a class that’s a little more challenging, I teach Lit Comp. It’s an AP class, but if you’re serious, I’m sure we can work something out.”
“AP?” Letty’s eyebrows raise playfully. “So is that Kochiss with a K or a C?”
“Leticia,” Coco says, his voice coming out as more of a groan.
“Oh, what? I can’t joke now?” Letty asks innocently.
Shanice laughs into her first bite of tlayuda. She has to lean awkwardly over the table because Olivia is still parked on her lap with no intention of moving.
Shanice lets out an unexpected moan when she tastes the food. “This is so good.” She doesn’t realize the way she sounds until she looks up to find Coco’s half-lidded eyes on her. It’s just a flash, but it feels like an eternity when their eyes meet across the table. He quickly averts his eyes down to the table as he taps a song with his fingers.
“When will you…” Letty starts, oblivious to the previous interaction. It pulls Coco’s and Shanice’s attention back. “When are you going to, you know…tell her?”
Shanice loudly clears her throat. “Uh, not for a while. We all still need to get to know each other better. Get comfortable.”
“About that,” Coco interjects. “I was thinkin’ next time we could meet up at the beach.”
Olivia perks up again just then.
“We don’t say eachbay or oolpay or any large bodies of aterway around this one.” Shanice practically hisses the words as she pushes them through her teeth.
“Can we go to the eachbay today? Pleeeease?” Olivia begs.
Shanice threw her hands up in defeat. “Great, now I can’t even say it in pig Latin.”
Coco speaks up, “You know what would be better than going to the beach for just a little while today?”
“What?” Olivia surprisingly doesn’t shy away.
“Staying for the whole day on Saturday. If that’s okay with Shanice, of course.”
Olivia turns around so that she’s kneeling on Shanice’s thighs. The little girl takes Shanice by the face to whisper with wide eyes. “Can we go to the beach on Saddurday?”
Shanice whispers back, mirroring her animated expression. “Yes. As long as you’re good.” Olivia starts leaving greasy kisses all over Shanice’s forehead. “Alright, alright!” she says at full volume now. “Girl, you’re gonna take off my eyebrows.”
“And I could come too, maybe?” Letty asks as Olivia sits back down. For a moment, she’s just a little girl asking to tag along.
“Aye, you gotta be good too,” Coco teases.
Somewhere along the conversation Olivia falls asleep against Shanice’s chest. She looks down at the little girl and is thankful the day doesn’t turn out to be the disaster she’d imagined.
#mayans mc#johnny cruz#coco cruz x oc#jonny coco cruz#letty cruz#leticia cruz#black!oc#black!ofc#black oc#mayans mc fanfiction#mayans fanfic#mayans mc fanfic#woc writer#poc writer#poc!fanfiction#thisiswhatshewrote
75 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Broken Crown- Chapter 4
Enjoy chapter 4!
Summary: All Margaret Shelby ever wanted, was the opportunity to write her own story. Only now is she beginning to realize that her brother may have already written it for her...
OoOoOo
"When your dreams all fail,
And the ones we hail, Are the worst of all,
And the blood runs stale"
~Demons~
OoOoOo
1919
Maggie was so excited. She dragged Cara toward the pub the moment their school day was finished.
"Why are we going into the Garrison?" The blonde asked curiously.
"You have to meet the barmaid who works here," Maggie explained.
"I've seen her," Cara informed her. "What's so special about her?"
"We've become good friends." It was true, after such a long period of time had passed without seeing her older sister, Grace inevitably filled the gaping space that Ada had left behind.
"Should I be jealous?" The blonde teased.
Maggie flashed a loving smile, "No one could ever replace you."
When the dark-haired girl opened the pub door, the first thing they heard was Grace's melodic voice singing. "-As I've never loved before..."
Maggie spotted Grace serving drinks to the regular customers. Unfortunately, one of those customers was Ross, who was sitting with a group of men who would hang around the betting shop. Cara was quick to notice him too, her body immediately tensed.
"Since first I saw you on the village green..."
"Sorry Mags, I forgot my mum wanted me to fix stitching on some dresses," This was one of the few times Maggie had ever seen Cara looking embarrassed, "Maybe next time, yeah?"
"Come to me ere my dream of love is o'er..."
The dark-haired girl nodded, not wanting to refute the her friends claim, and watched Cara hurriedly exit through the doors.
"I love you as I loved you when you were sweet..." Maggie moved herself over to the row of empty barstools and took a seat as Grace was finishing her song. "When you were sweet sixteen."
Grace then walked behind the bar while Maggie applauded at the performance. "Hello Maggie," Grace greeted happily, grabbing a dirty pint glass off the bar. "Don't look behind you,but a handsome young man is staring at you."
Maggie felt her stomach turn, responding, "Let's change the subject."
Grace smirked, "How was school?"
"Dull," The girl said truthfully, "Harry out again?"
Grace nodded, "It's been slow."
"What have you been doing today?"
"I had a meeting with the gentleman who will be installing the pub's brand new phone."
"Neat." Maggie beamed at the thought of the new technology.
"Your brother is trying to go legitimate." Grace informed her, "He wants to make this place seem a bit more respectable."
"Which one?" The dark-haired girl asked.
"Arthur." She answered back unenthusiastically, "Though he doesn't seem too interested in fixing anything. I mean, look at the state of these." The barmaid picked up a carton of cigarettes that was ripping apart. "Where do these even come from?" She asked, hoping this question would lead to where the guns may be hidden.
Maggie just shrugged at her question. "How should I know? I think they have a few warehouses in town."
Grace nodded, taking in the information, before noticing a customer beckon her over, "I'll be back." She told the girl.
Maggie sat by herself for a few moments before she felt a presence inch closer to stand beside her. She knew there would be a confrontation at some point, she had done so well in avoiding him. She didn't have a chance to say anything before Ross spoke first, "I had instructions to give this to you."
Reaching into the pocket inside of his coat he pulled out a folded piece of parchment, placing it on the bar he slid it towards her. She was surprised but nevertheless relieved when he said nothing else and walked back to his table. Taking the note, she unfolded it to read the message that was scribbled out. As she read a smile crept onto her face. The message was from Ada.
OoOoOo
In the parlor, Maggie had been writing in her journal when Polly descended the down the stairs. "Put your shoes on," The older woman ordered, "Johns called a family meeting."
Watching Polly walk across the room, Maggie raised her eyebrow, "Thought I wasn't allowed at family meetings."
"John says it's not that kind of a meeting," Polly said, exiting into the tiny kitchen. Maggie happily closed her book and slipped on her black boots which were resting right underneath the old coffee table, before following her aunt into the kitchen.
"Pol?" Maggie asked worriedly when she noticed the woman standing rigidly by the table. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing." Polly said after a moment, "C'mon, we don't want to be late." Polly moved to enter the betting shop with her niece in tow.
"Where's John?" Tommy asked his aunt, agitated his brother was not at his post.
"John's in the Garrison, says he wants a meeting about a family matter," Polly informed him, placing her hat on her head. "After he's said his piece he'll come back and take his place with Scudboat."
Maggie tried to follow her aunt, but was stopped by Tommy's outstretched arm, "Where are you going?"
"To the meeting. John told Polly I could come," Maggie explained to him.
Though Tommy didn't look completely persuaded, Polly called on the large man taking bets. "John will be here in ten minutes"
"Five," Tommy corrected before the family walked out of the shop onto the cobblestone pavement.
"What does John want to talk about?" Tommy asked his aunt.
"Your guess is as good as mine. Always been one for dramatics, our John" Polly replied jokingly causing Maggie to chuckle out.
"You're in a good mood," Tommy noted to the smiling girl as he pulled out a cigarette to smoke.
"I like going to the Garrison," Maggie responded.
"She likes talking to that barmaid." Polly translated her nieces' words.
"You and Grace seem to chat a lot," Tommy spoke, exhaling a breath of smoke.
The girl shrugged. "I like Grace, she likes my writing," quickly adding, "We're friends."
"You trust her enough to share your work," Tommy said, impressed by the sudden growth of his sister. "I'm thinking of asking her to be my secretary," Tommy suddenly informed the ladies.
"Only a secretary?" Maggie asked, raising her eyebrows cheekily.
He flashed her a ghost of a smile, "Never you mind."
"Secretary, eh?" Polly finally spoke up as the Garrison came into their view.
"We're going, legitimate Pol." Tommy reasoned, "What's more legitimate than a secretary? Or maybe I’ll make her a bookkeeper. Arthur mentioned she’s good with numbers and helped him fix the books." Polly said nothing and this seemed to spark something in the gangster, "Got something to say?"
"Just don't let your cock do your thinking for you Thomas," Polly warned. He remained silent, but a small smirk was fixed on his face causing the aunt to roll her eyes.
When they entered the pub, it was empty, except for Harry, who stood behind the bar drying some glasses with a white rag. They saw Finn leaning against the outer wall of the private room, which Maggie assumed John and Arthur were already in.
"Stay out here Finn," Polly ordered the eleven-year-old who tried to enter with them.
"But Mags gets to go in!" The boy protested, yet his words went unheard. This made him look jealousy at his sister, who had stuck her tongue out at her little brother as she walked into the snug with the rest of the family. Both John and Arthur were already seated, and she took a place right next to Polly.
"All right John, there's only one man-," Tommy spoke, before declining the drink Arthur poured for him continuing, "There's only one man guarding the house. What's troubling you?"
"Aunt Polly, Maggie, you two know what it's been like since Martha died." John began.
Maggie gave her brother a sad smile as Polly took his hand and said, "God takes the best first."
John looked to his sister, "Mags, you've been a big help with them, but the truth is my kids have been running bloody rings around me." With hopelessness in his voice, he continued, "Running barefoot with the dogs until all hours."
Maggie's heart ached for him, but Tommy was not having it, "Pol, give him ten bob for some new shoes. Is that it, John?" He asked his brother impatiently.
"Tommy it would be better to do this without you," Polly scolded before turning her attention back to John. "Now what's your point?"
"What the kids need is a mother." John spoke again slowly, "So that's why I'm getting married."
Everyone in the room exchanged glances of surprise. Polly was the first to speak, "Does this poor girl know you're going to marry her? Or are you just going to spring it on her all of a sudden?"
John replied matter-of-factly, "I've already proposed, and she said 'yes'."
"I think that's great John," a smiling Maggie announced. Finally! She was officially off babysitting duty.
"I think there's a shell about to land and go bang," Tommy stated mockingly, before lighting the cigarette hanging in his mouth.
Hesitantly John spoke again, "It's um- its Lizzie Stark."
"Oh, eww," Maggie breathed out, crossing her arms as her family cackled at her expression.
Polly managed to compose herself, "John, Lizzie Stark is a strong woman and I am sure she provides a fine service for her customers-"
"I won't hear the word! Understand? Do not use that word." He told them angrily.
Tommy sighed out, "What word is that, John?"
"You know what word that is," John growled out.
"Everybody bloody knows" Arthur finally spoke out and pointed at his sister, "Shit, even Mags here knows."
John gritted out, "Everybody can go to Hell."
"Whore. That word?" Tommy finally supplied. "Or prostitute? How about that one?"
Fury flashed in Johns' eyes, "Right I want it known, if anyone calls her a whore again, I will push the barrel of my revolver down their throats and blow the word back down into their hearts."
"Well, that's not dramatic at all," Maggie mumbled out her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Men and their cocks never cease to amaze me." Polly berated, "John, Lizzie Stark never did a day's work vertical- "
"She's changed!" John insisted, "All right?! People change! Like- Like with religion-"
"Lizzie Stark has got religion, eh?" Tommy interrupted.
"No! No, she doesn't have religion, but- well she loves me." John asserted, "Now listen Tommy, I won't do it without your blessing. But of all the people in the world- I want you to see it as brave."
"Oh, it's brave all right," Arthur muttered before taking a swig of his drink.
"Brave is going where no man has gone before. And with Lizzie Stark, John, that really is not what you'll be doing" She told him, unable to hold back the laughter.
But he ignored her, looking back at his older brother, "Listen, Tommy, welcome her to the family, as someone whose had a hard life. All right because I need someone. The kids need someone."
Tommy looked as if he was about to give his reply before Finn pushed open the door forcefully panting out, "Tommy, we've been done over!"
"What?" Arthur asked in disbelief.
Quickly Maggie followed her siblings and Polly, who all practically ran out of the Garrison. Not stopping until they all were back in front of number seventeen, Watery Lane. "You and Finn stay outside," Polly ordered once they were outside the entrance of the betting shop.
Maggie was about to object until Tommy echoed their aunts' instructions and followed the rest of his family inside. The pair of Shelby's eventually moved from the noisy street to the alley where the car was parked. Finn carefully crawled onto the hood and contorted his way over the front window. Maggie followed her brother, stepping up to sit on top of the hood, letting her feet lightly kick the metal of the vehicle that protected the thin wheels.
"Look, Maggie," Finn giggled and the girl twisted her upper body to see her brother playing with the steering wheel, "I'm Tommy!"
The girl smiled, "If you're trying to be Tommy, you should work more on your scowl." She told him jokingly. Overdramatically Finn made a scowl but immediately broke character by breaking out in even more giggles, triggering Maggie to laugh as well.
Suddenly Tommy was at the entrance of the alleyway in front of them, he looked instantly distressed. "Maggie, Finn." He began slowly, "Both of you stay exactly where you are."
"What's wrong?" she asked him worriedly. Did something happen inside?
Raising his arm out to her spoke out cautiously, "Mags, as careful as ya can, I need you to slowly slide off the hood."
She did as she was told, while Finn kept snickering, "I was pretending I was you." The child told his brother, but Tommy ignored him instead he directed Maggie to move against the dingy brick wall.
Once he felt like his sister was out of danger he went back to the child in the car, "Which door did you open to come in Finn?"
"I didn't," He told his big brother proudly. "I climbed in."
"I want you to climb out exactly the same way you climbed in, okay?" Tommy instructed, but Finn disobeyed and opened the driver's door.
Maggie watched as Tommy ran to grab an object that had been on the side of the door, yelling out, "Clear!" before flinging it to hit the brick wall on the opposite side of the street. Maggie yelped out at the sound of the explosion, which caused working men to drop to the ground. "That's why you should never pretend to be me, okay?" Tommy told Finn, visibly shaken by this incident. Tommy then took a deep breath and pulled both of his younger siblings close to him.
OoOoOo
Polly and Maggie had just entered the washhouse Ada had informed them she would be visiting. It was a large space, but luckily there were not very many people who decided to do their laundry at the establishment that afternoon. Alone in the corner of the washroom, sitting on a stool, was a woman with a long brown coat, wide black hat, folding trousers onto the small table beside her.
"Need help?" Polly asked the woman eagerly.
The woman looked up to see her family members and smiled, "You got my letter." Ada grinned and stood up with a bit of difficulty, Polly was the first one to embrace her.
Once the aunt and niece pulled apart it was Maggie's turn. Though the hug was more on the awkward side, due to the sizable stomach that was in the way. She muttered into her sisters' ear, "Fuck, you're huge!"
"Oh, shut up." Ada happily retorted, smacking her sister's arm lightly.
"What's with the glasses?" Maggie laughed and pointed at the large spectacles on her sister's face.
"Freddie wants me in disguise when I go out now." She spoke with a bored tone and pointed to the strange-looking eyeglasses. "Can't bloody see anything with these."
Maggie grabbed a pair of socks, which she assumed was Freddie's, from Ada's hand, "Here let me help you." She told her sister and began to fold the newly laundered clothing.
"Has Freddie got you hiding somewhere near?" Polly asked hostilely.
"It's fucking rat hole," Ada spit out, "the entire flat is about the size of your room, Mags."
Maggie felt sad for her sister. Sure, the Shelby family didn't have much to their name, but they were better off compared to most of the population in Small Heath. "Is that Copper still looking for Freddie?" Ada inquired to which Polly nodded.
Ada cursed and placed a hand on her large stomach, "I just want to live in peace with my family. But instead of thinking of me or the baby, all he cares about is the bloody cause. Freddie even gave someone two hundred bloody pounds."
Polly leaned in closer to the pregnant girl, and with a hushed tone asked, "Who?"
OoOoOo
Maggie walked down the hall from her room to Tommy's, she was hoping she could borrow a pen since hers ran out of ink. Before she opened the closed door, she could have sworn she heard noises. Had her brother come home early?
"Tom?" She asked, opening the door, but that wasn't who was in the room, "John?"
Being caught, the third oldest Shelby stopped his rifling through their brothers' things, though seemed relieved it was only her, "Mags-"
"What are you doing here?" She asked before she noticed that his eyes were watery, "Has something happened?"
"The weddings off," He informed her with an irritated tone and moved to the dresser drawers.
"Oh." Was all she could manage to say awkwardly, "I'm sorry."
"Don't," he told her bitterly, shaking his head then went back to rifling through the dresser flipping over Tommy's clothes. "It ain't your fault I'm a fucking idiot!"
"You're no idiot, John," she assured him yet he just scoffed at her words.
"Never fall in love Maggie, leads to nothing but fucking agony."
“What does falling in love even feel like anyway?” She surprised herself when she asked.
John stopped and turned his red eyes to her for a moment before continuing his search, “You know it… it's like this feeling in your gut.” He told her somewhat uncomfortably, “Your heart beats a little faster, your mind always wanders back to thinking about them, no matter what you're doing; when you eat, when you sleep, when you work… Why the fuck are you asking me this?”
“No reason”, Maggie said quickly. "What are you even looking for, anyway?"
He didn't respond to her question, causing her to become frustrated. "Fine, don't tell me." Maggie walked over to the nightstand, picked up the first writing device she saw and left the room.
OoOoOo
The next evening Maggie had fallen asleep on the sofa in the tiny parlor of their home, at least until she was shaken awake by her aunt. "What's the matter?" she muttered out, quickly sitting herself up. Was something wrong? Had the Lees come back?
"Nothing, love" Polly reassured her, "I left a new dress on your bed, go put it on."
"We're going out?" The girl asked, confused, no one had told her they had prior arrangements.
"Yes," Polly nodded, "Now c'mon, we don't have that much time."
Maggie rose from her spot, "Where are we going, Pol?"
"To a wedding," The older woman huffed impatiently and made her way up the stairs to the bedrooms.
This confused Maggie even more, "Whose?"
Not two hours later Maggie had gotten her answer. She and Polly met Ada near the Lees campground and walked into their enemy's territory with no trouble at all. They approach the crowd of witnesses just as Johnny Dogs begins the ceremony. Ada stopped to stand beside Tommy.
"Let's stand over here, love," Polly said, guiding Maggie past her siblings to get a better view of the union. She watched on as Johnny officiated, taking notice that her brother actually looked happy to be up there. Her attention was taken off the bride and groom when she spotted Ross standing about ten feet away with the rest of the Peaky Blinders. Smiling softly at his familiar face, she waved, her stress alleviated when he did the same.
"I now pronounce you man and wife," Johnny said happily as all the witnesses cheered at the new couple's first kiss.
As the night went on the partygoers were all in a festive mood. Sitting on a wooden barrel, Maggie watched as everyone mingled and danced. Tommy was sitting and chatting with the matriarch of the Lee family, Arthur was in the middle of what looked like a drinking contest, and John danced to the music with his beautiful new wife, Esme. Even she had started to sway to the music as the firecrackers sounded off over the happy noises.
"Mags," Ross greeted her, walking up next to stand next to her seating place.
"Hello," she replied, followed by an awkward pause, "I'm sorry I've been avoiding you." She told him after a few moments.
"Understandable." He responded instantly, "I've been a wanker and not just to you." Taking another puff of his cigarette, he exhaled, "I'll talk to Cara."
Maggie was surprised by this proclamation, "Really?"
"I'll sort it out." He nodded looking at the others dancing, and with a smile continued, "I miss walking with you two."
Maggie returned the smile, "We miss you too."
Ross stuck his hand out, "Care to dance?"
Maggie felt her face flush, and waved her hands in protest, "Oh, no I couldn't."
"C'mon, it's a party." He urged, with his hand still outstretched. Smiling, the girl cautiously took it and was led to the crowd.
Feeling like an idiot, she tried to keep up with the fast-paced music, but it seemed like her feet couldn't move fast enough. She felt someone clumsily bump into her backside nearly knocking her over. "Oi! Watch- Oh sorry love." Ada slurred out.
"It's alright," Maggie assured her sister, regaining her balance.
Ada then awkwardly cupped her little sister's face with both hands, and with a very stern tone warned, "Don't you ever let a man call you a 'Fucking Shelby' you hear me." She then rounded on the man next to her and jabbed a finger close to Ross’s face. "You hear me."
"Don't you worry, Ada," Ross guaranteed her, which seemed to be good enough for the older Shelby girl whose demeanor quickly changed back to her delighted drunkenness, dancing away from them.
As Ross spun her around, she caught a glimpse of John and Esme, sitting together and happily getting to know one another, "Seems like love at first sight." She heard Ross say.
"Seems so," Maggie replied happily. Very soon her attention was drawn to Tommy and Arthur trying to get a drunken Ada under control, "Oh no." She breathed out, walking closer to her feuding family members.
"Come and look, Esme!" Ada shouted, "Come and look at the family you joined!" The music ceased and now everyone's attention was on the intoxicated woman. "Come and look at the man who runs it! He chooses his brother's wives for them!" Ada shouted out for everyone to hear. She wasn't finished though, the woman then pointed at her younger sister, "Have you got some old perverted man lined up for Maggie?!"
Maggie felt her stomach drop at the thought, she felt everyone's gaze turn to her as she remained frozen in place. The only comfort that she felt was when Ross put her arm around her waist, as if to protect her. Tommy just stood in front of Ada looking at her stoically, but the mother-to-be wasn't done yet. "He hunts his own sister down like a rat, and he tries to kill his own brother-in-law!"
"Ada, that's enough!" Arthur tried to intervene.
"And now he won't even let me have a fucking dance! Not even at a fucking wedding!"
"Sit her down!" John barked out.
"Calm down Ada," Polly kept repeating, trying to soothe her. "Holy Shit. Water, right."
"Not now Ada," Arthur whined, obviously devastated the party was now unavoidably cut short. "Bloody hell, you do pick your times."
Tommy rushed over to Ada placing his coat over her and assisted Pol with leading her out of the vicinity and into the family car.
Maggie turned to her friend, "I have to-"
"Go." Ross finished for her.
Maggie rushed towards her family, who all made their way to the car. "It's too early!" she heard Ada cry out as she was ushered into the vehicle. Maggie too jumped into the front seat next to her brother.
"It'll be ok, love." Polly soothed sliding in next to her, before turning to the driver, "Step on it, Tommy."
OoOoOo
"Freddie," Ada kept repeating as she laid down on the sofa in the small parlor. "I want Freddie!"
"I know," Maggie sighed out uncomfortably, moving a sweaty piece of hair out of her sister's face.
"I can't do it, Mags. I can't do it on my own." Ada whimpered.
The younger girl's heart ached, "Hey, look at me, you can do this," She assured her, "You are so strong, if anyone can do this it'll be you."
Luckily for them, Esme had finally arrived moments later.
"Ada!" They heard Polly scream before she re-entered the home. "They're getting the word out to Freddie. He'll be here, love." She assured her niece, who grunted out as yet another contraction commenced.
"I think it might be the wrong way 'round," Esme told them, "I attended three sisters."
"Yeah, I think you're right," Polly agreed.
Maggie squirmed in place nervously, "What does that mean?"
"We should lean her forward," Esme suggested and Polly nodded, helping Ada up.
"C'mon, it's not that long to go, darling," The aunt encouraged the screaming woman. "Push, two, three!"
"Holy shit," Maggie muttered out, as she watched a new life was making its way out of her sister.
"Keep going, that's it!" Polly cheered before pulling out the baby completely. "It's a boy, Ada," Polly told the exhausted woman over the newborn's cries as Esme cut the cord connecting the mother and son with some old scissors.
Polly cleaned the new baby boy off tenderly with a small rag before returning him to Ada, who was beaming at the small life in her arms. Maggie heard banging from the front entrance and if she had not gotten out of the way fast enough Freddie may have run over her. Maggie smiled at the sight of the little family. The feeling didn't last long though, because the front door opened once again, and she felt herself being pushed aside the wall by a copper. Esme could be heard yelling, the baby boy began to shriek, and Ada sobbed, clinging to her newborn to her chest.
"Freddie!" Ada cried out as the group of officers dragged the new father out of the home.
"Tommy," Polly said darkly before letting out a string of curses in Romany before storming out of the house.
#peaky blinders#peaky blinder fanfic#shelby sister#tommy shelby#ada shelby#polly gray#oc#arthur shelby#john shelby#1920#esme lee#finn shelby#peaky blinders fanfiction
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
are you really going to leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?
FROM THE PETALS COLLECTION
[pairing] :: yoongi x fem!reader
[genre] :: kiki delivery service au + fluff
[word count] :: 6.3k
.
Your eyes flicker open to a window of ocean and summer breeze drifting into your bedroom. One look at the sun tells you that you’ve overslept just a little bit, but the memory of your long travel the previous day justifies the action. You had to fly practically to the other side of the city to deliver a basket of freshly picked vegetables, and it had taken a lot out of you especially under the heat of the sun.
And yet, today is a new day.
You let out a sigh. “I should get up,” You tell yourself, pushing yourself up into a sitting position. The morning light has stretched across the space around you, highlighting the little desk and small collection of plants that overtake the remaining walls of your tiny bedroom. In the corner is your broom, looking as if it’s glimmering at the thought of another adventure for the day.
With a little rub to your eyes, you look down and see the little black cat curled up at your side. Despite its appearance of comfort, the black cat has it’s big navy colored eyes fixated on you. As if it had been watching you for a little while. “Finally decided to get up,” The cat notes, also pushing itself up into a sitting position.
Your fingers go behind your back, curl together, and stretch at the muscles of your shoulder. “Give me a break, Tobio,” You say, now moving to bring your hands up and over your head. “We had a long day yesterday.”
At long last do you push back your blankets. You slide your feet down onto the carpet below and continue with the rest of your preparations. You slip on the heavy black dress you have been wearing since your arrival to the city. Fingers gather into the strains of your hair, pulling half of it into a ponytail to keep it out of your face.
You run a hand through your hair, deeming is acceptable because you immediately make your way towards the bedroom door. “Tobio, I’m going to the shop now!” You call over your shoulder, looking over to find that your cat has settled himself comfortably at your windowsill. At your calling, however, the cat leaps over the ledge and makes his way over to where you’re standing. Tobio climbs up your frame, setting himself atop your shoulder, prepared for the day.
With your black cat settled, you open the bedroom door and continue down a small hallway. Every few steps is a small window overlooking more of the ocean and cityscape below you, a little vase of plants or flowers growing on each sill. The occasional photo hangs on the empty spaces—a little girl riding her bike, a small family enjoying a picnic, a couple at a beach, that same little girl now with pigtails with you wrapped underneath her arm. Closed doors also line the hallway, all closed and leading to different parts of the house. You brush past all of them. The hallway ends, opening up into a kitchen with more sunlight pouring in through the windows. The stove is off but a pot still rests atop. It must have been used to make some morning tea.
The emptiness of the upstairs apartment unit gives little indication about where your roommate is. At the end of the kitchen is an incline of stairs that go down, one that you follow and open the door at the end of the stairs. The door reveals a flower shop: the cashiers station in the back, rows of different colored flowers and types along the middle, and windows across the entire front of the store.
The crowd for the morning is light, just one or two people strolling through the different aisles. The quietness is interrupted by the movement near the cashier.
The little girl from the photographs stands behind the counter. She’s not a little girl anymore, and her hair is no longer in pigtails—she holds herself as an adult. She even talks like one too, as she opens her mouth to scold you. “You overslept.”
You sigh. “Not you too, Karly.” From your shoulder, Tobio snorts something underneath his breath. You join her behind the counter, grabbing a bundle of daisies that most likely had come from the morning delivery. “You know how awful my delivery was yesterday! The grandmother made me stay for over an hour so she could tell about all the vegetables she had received and how amazing her granddaughter was for growing them all! Do you realize how exhausting it is to hear about cucumbers over and over again?”
“Well, do you know how exhausting it is to fill out all your order forms for you because you slept through the opening routine?” Karly returns, not looking at you. Her gaze is too focused on counting the cash in the register. “For your information, it’s very exhausting.”
You put down the daisies for a second to turn your attention towards the basket of ‘to be completed’ order forms. Raising an eyebrow, you reach your hand into the basket to pull out—!
“Two order forms,” You report, turning to glare at your roommate. “It was exhausting to fill out two order forms?”
“So exhausting,” Karly repeats, but a glance at you makes you immediately see the smirk across her lips. You have half the mind to throw the order forms at her, but their value for your business keeps you from doing such a thing. Instead, you nudge her with your shoulder before turning your attention back to the order forms. Of the two, one required an immediate delivery while the other one could be delivered in the later afternoon. Knowing these deadlines helps you construct a mental schedule for the day. “So how does your day look today?”
You shrug, looking over the order form requiring immediate attention. “Same old.” You brush past Karly away to enter the apartment unit once more, climbing the stairs and pacing towards your bedroom at the end of the hall. You quickly grab your broom from the corner and make your way back towards the shop.
The door at the bottom of the stairs opens as you approach the kitchen. It’s Karly. “Your favorite customer is here!” She exclaims, broad grin on her face—the kind of grin that shows that she knows something you don’t.
You frown, playing the broom on your shoulder. A favorite customer? You can’t think of anyone you prefer over the others… “What are you talking about?” You ask, making your way down the stairs. “I don’t have a favorite…” You trail off as soon as you enter the flower shop and see a very familiar figure lingering amongst the flowers. Just as it always does, the words get lodged in your throat and everything around you feels warm suddenly. “Min Yoongi!” You exclaim.
He looks good today with his black sweatshirt and skinny jeans—although you’re sure the boy could show up in a garbage bag and still manage to render you this way. His hair is fluffy, falling across his forehead that looks like he had just run a towel through it. Or his hands. Either mental image is nice to think about.
Min Yoongi is the shy boy from across the street who was one of the first to greet you after you landed in the city all these years ago. He had been curious about your broom and your background, intrigued by the thought of you being a witch. He had been a lot younger back then, naturally, wide-eyed and shy. He’s still like that: wide-eyed and shy, that is. Except nowadays, he’s grown in certain features that may have previously made him lanky and awkward. He’s taller, older, cuter. It’s a rather troubling thought, one that you more often than not do not spend too much time pondering.
Min Yoongi is a cute boy: a very cute boy you’ve known since you were thirteen. And yet the only thing you know about him is that he comes in practically every week to request your delivery services. Nothing more, nothing less. An occasional smile once in awhile, a breath of back-to-back conversation, but never anything beyond that. After all, Yoongi never bothers with something more meaningful, because he’s not interested. Right? Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?
Karly’s raised eyebrow directed at you seems to be telling a different story—as do the actual words that come out of her mouth every time Yoongi comes by for a visit. But you ignore all those as you turn your attention to the boy. “Yoongi, hi,” You say, realizing a moment later that you had already said his name and had already technically greeted him.
Karly was definitely going to use this against you one day, as seen through the way she ducks her head to hide her snort.
Yoongi stands there, so unassuming and wide-eyed as he looks at you. He utters your name. “Hey,” He returns. He starts to make his way to the counter, already well accustomed with the delivery process you’ve created.
“How’s it going?” You ask, moving back behind the counter and pulling out an order form.
“It’s good, how about you?” Yoongi returns, noticing Tobio situated on the counter. “I see Tobio is doing well,” He says, reaching out to scratch the cat behind the ear. Tobio purrs at the gesture and you smile at that. Tobio doesn’t need to say anything for you to know that he’s enjoying himself—not that Yoongi would be able to understand Tobio’s comments anyways.
“He is,” You say. “We both basically knocked out after this long delivery we had to make. But we’re both good now.” You place the order form flat on the counter and take out a pen. “Alright, so what are we delivering today, Mr. Min?”
He gummy smiles at your formality, but he digs through the contents of his backpack and produces a small notebook from his backpack. “I just need to have this delivered to my friend,” He says, placing his hand atop the notebook. You stare at his fingers for a second too long. “It’s part of this thing we’re working on together and I just need to get his input for what’s written in here.” He takes his hand off the notebook.
You look at the object, a small black-bound book that looks worn from constant use and travel. Even just from the outside, the pages look pressed into and look so full of life that you cannot help but stare. Not that your usual deliveries for Yoongi were anything out of the ordinary, this feels like the first time Yoongi has asked you to deliver something he’s been working on.
“This thing looks like it's been through a lot,” You note quietly, picking up a pen and starting to fill out the form. You start with the name, and contents of the delivery: since both answers to those questions are situated in front of you.
“That’s because it has,” Yoongi answers with a smile that looks just a little smaller, just a little shyer. “I bring it with me everywhere. This thing is really important to me.”
The desire to ask about what could be so special that Yoongi feels the need to bring it with him everywhere feels too strong on your tongue. Yet, you elect to keep your mouth shut. It doesn’t seem right to ask something like that, especially during your job. “Sounds good,” You say instead, looking up and noticing that Yoongi’s gaze is still trained on you. “Who is the delivery going to?”
“A friend of mine, Kim Namjoon. He lives just over the river.” He looks down at the map you’ve got taped to the top of the counter. A tiny red pin sticks from the paper, nailed right into the current location of the flower shop. His eyes scan the map for a moment before his eyes find what he’s looking for, because he taps his finger on the surface. “Right here. He has a green roof, and lots of plants around the house. You’ll also see a wooden mailbox with his last name across it. Shouldn’t be too hard to notice.”
You take a mental note of these directions as you nod. “Alright then.” You take the notebook and slide it into one of the shipping envelops you have in the shop to keep certain packages and deliveries safe. “When do you need it delivered by?”
“Preferably just by the end of the day,” Yoongi says with the brush of his hand. “No rush, I know that you can be really busy sometimes.”
“It’s just part of the job,” You reply with a smile as you place the now fully completed order form in the basket. “Well, I’ll have this package delivered, Yoongi. Thank you for coming in. Pleasure doing business with you.”
Yoongi grins. “Likewise.” He utters your name, a beautiful sound that makes feel like the ground has just given up underneath your feet. “I’ll see you around?”
You nod. The sunlight seems to be streaming directly through the window. Why else would your face feel so warm all of a sudden? “Yeah, I’ll see you around.”
Yoongi stares at you for a moment longer before he nods, more to himself than to you, and turns around to exit the shop. You hear the ringing of the bell at the door signaling his departure, and yet you remain rooted to the ground, staring at the door.
Karly hits you on the back between your shoulders. “Okay, but what the fuck was that?”
You flash out of your trance pretty quickly and give your roommate a look. “What the fuck was what?”
She jerks her chin towards the door. “Is that what you call flirting?”
You turn hot at the word. “Flirting?” You repeat. “What are you talking about? There was no flirting. In fact, I think you need your eyes checked. Where was the flirting? I wasn’t flirting, and Yoongi definitely wasn’t flirting. No one was flirting. I was just doing my job—stop that!” You push at her shoulder when you realize she’s looking at you like you just pissed in her cereal.
“You know, for a smart witch, you can be really dull sometimes.”
“What are you talking about?”
Karly glares at you. “I'm talking about how Yoongi is looking at you like you personally flew up into the sky to hang up all the stars and you do the exact same, and yet you’re both talking like you’ve never had a casual conversation with a human being before!”
“Not this again,” You mumble under your breath. “Karly, I’m not sure how much I need to tell you this. Yoongi isn’t into me that way. We’ve known each other for so long. If he was interested, we would have had a conversation outside of any new magic tricks I’ve learned or me asking him what kind of package he wants delivered this time.”
“C’mon, even I can tell you what kind of package he wants to deliver—specifically to you—!”
“Karly!”
Tobio perks his head up from the counter. “She has a point—!”
“Not you too!” You snap to the black cat on the counter.
"Okay, okay, fine, I”ll stop," She says, backing up with both hands raised in surrender. “I’ll drop it. But I’m serious! I really think you should consider the idea of Yoongi liking you!”
“Are we really talking about this again?” You scowl, moving back from around the counter to collect the package that required an immediate delivery. It’s a basket of freshly picked strawberries, from a mother to her daughter. “I don’t have time for this. Tobio, I’m leaving!”
Tobio meows in acknowledgment as he leaps from the counter to your shoulder.
“You have time on the ride over to think about Yoongi’s package—!” Karly calls from the shop as you shut the door to the shop before the girl can finish her sentence.
You sigh, cheeks still warm from the encounter and the following conversation. “I can’t believe this,” You mumble underneath your breath.
“I think you should keep him,” Tobio says, licking his paw and running the paw through the fur at his head. “He’s nice. He smiles at you the way Karly smiles at her flowers. It’s a little sad on Karly’s part, but it should prove something.”
“I don’t want to hear about this anymore,” You protest, instead choosing to shift your attention to the broom in your hand. You ready it, straddling the handle of the broom, before you leap off into the air around you. Nevermind the tiny smile that pitches the corner of your lips the entire time.
.
Min Yoongi is in the shop the next day, hands in the pocket of a denim jacket. Karly looks like she’s about to burst, with her lips pressed together and her wide-eyes observing Yoongi’s wandering. Tobio doesn’t look too far off from saying another snarky comment.
“He usually comes in once a week, what is happening—!” Karly hisses in your ear. You immediately cut her off with an elbow to the gut.
“Hey Yoongi,” You greet loudly, hoping to drown out Karly’s coughing. “What brings you in here? I thought you only come by once a week.”
Yoongi looks at you for a moment before he ducks his head a little, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t know you kept track.”
Karly kicks your ankle. She gives you a look, her eyes flashing. You swallow, your fingers immediately curling into the strands of your hair. “W-Well, it’s just that… hard not to do that for you.”
Yoongi presses his lips together. “Is that so?” He asks, not really looking at you. There’s some pink dusting along his cheeks.
You feel warm again. Why on earth did you think to say that? Sure, yes, you’ve known about Yoongi’s weekly visits for years but saying it like that? Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut?
“Anyways,” You bring up again after a moment, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Since you’re here so soon after your last, uh, visit, it must be urgent. Something I can help you with?”
“Oh, right.” Yoongi blinks, seeming to remember what he was doing here. He takes out an envelope, something small enough to just hold a letter. “I just need this to be dropped off at Namjoon’s house—the guy whose house you had to go to yesterday. It’s just some updates to the notebook I had given him. I also need you to bring the notebook back here. Namjoon already knows to give it to you.”
You nod at that, smiling as you take the envelope. “Been away from your baby for too long, huh?” You ask, looking back up at him.
Yoongi joins in your laughter, a small breathless sound that includes a slight shake of his shoulders. “Honestly, it feels like a piece of myself has been missing.”
You pull out an order form from the counter, already moving to fill out the different questions. “Do you…” You start, stopping yourself for a moment, realizing that the question you have in mind probably isn’t either appropriate or welcoming. You trail off, thinking that Yoongi would ignore it or not care enough to take notice of your voice cutting itself off.
“Do I what?” Yoongi asks. He’s leaning against the counter now, arms resting on the surface, close enough that you can see the glimmer of curiosity and encouragement in his eyes. You could pull away, but you don’t. Instead, you smile and look back down at your work.
“Oh, nothing, I just… I was going to ask you something, but I realize it might be too personal. Or intrusive.”
Yoongi tilts his head, some of the black strands of his hair falling across his forehead. “We’ve known each other since we were thirteen. C’mon, no question is too personal or intrusive. You can ask.”
You ponder this for a moment, before you finally decide to give in. You place your pen on the desk and look up to face the boy once more. He’s still looking at you. “I just wanted to know what was so important about the notebook you want back. It seems to mean a lot to you, especially because you carry it around with you.”
“Ah, that’s a good question,” He replies, taping his chin and looking around the shop for a moment. He returns his gaze back to you. “It’s my writing journal,” He explains.
“Are you a writer?”
“Well, kind of. Not really. Actually, um.” He goes back to scratching his ear, biting his lip. “I’m more of a songwriter. I like writing music.”
You grin. “That’s pretty cool. What kind of music?”
Yoongi pauses. “Just, personal lyrics, I guess? I don’t really do anything with the lyrics—I haven’t turned it into actual music yet. That’s what my friend Namjoon is around for, we’re helping each other out. I just needed help going over some lyrics I had written, so now that he’s done I need the notebook back to keep going with my work.”
You nod. “Totally understandable. I’ll have the notebook back later today, so you can come by tomorrow to pick it up if that’s okay.”
Yoongi smiles. “More than okay. Thank you for doing this.”
“I’m just doing my job, Mr. Min,” You say. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
He nods. “It’s a date.” He turns around to leave the shop, the bell ringing overhead. As well as in your head.
The trace of a smile is still on your lips as you place the envelope in your bag and exit the space of the counter. Karly is in the middle of the store, organizing a small collection of lilies that have just come in that morning. She hasn’t said anything about the encounter, surprisingly, but the thought quickly disappears when you see the cat-like grin across her face.
You tap her lightly on the head with the handle of your broom.
“Hey!” Karly exclaims, laughing as she watches you make your way towards the exit of the store. “He literally said it was a date, Y/N, you can’t argue with that!”
“He’s just being silly, alright, goodbye!” You exclaim, shouldering open the door of the shop. You take a glance at the cat on your shoulder, who has been strangely quiet during the interaction. The wide eyes of the cat, though, do not go unseen by you. “I don’t want to hear about it.”
“I wasn’t saying anything!” Tobio complains. He stays quiet for a moment. “Although he did say it was a date. He looked excited to see you tomorrow, too—!”
“Alright, enough,” You say, taping the cat on the nose before readying yourself on your broom. It’s a lot easier to take off now—you remember when you struggled a lot in your younger years, how much concentration it took to fly and stay off the ground. Nowadays, it comes like second nature to you as your broom moves towards the sky. There was no need to go over the map, since you still remember the route you had taken yesterday to reach the home of Kim Namjoon. The summer breeze is a little cooler today, a little stronger, as it brushes through your hair and your clothing.
Today, you spare yourself the momentary distraction in staring out at the ocean in front of you, the bright blue and the line separating sea from sky.
Tobio nudges into your cheek with his head. “We’re coming up on the river,” He tells you, and you look down to see the upcoming river from memory.
“Awesome,” You say, passing over the river and beginning a descent back towards the ground. You quickly make out the green roof, the greenhouse in the background, the pathway of weeds. You land on the sidewalk in front of the house, smiling at the terrariums situated along the porch. Kim Namjoon is painted on the mailbox.
You make your way up the pathway towards the house, knocking on the brown door. After a few seconds, it opens to reveal the man himself. He’s a little taller than Yoongi, fluffy cardigan across his broad shoulders, black framed glasses, and a polite smile across his face.
“Ah, Y/N!” He greets. “My favorite delivery girl. Come in.”
“Mr. Kim, I’m the only delivery girl,” You say, placing your broom on the porch and stepping into Namjoon’s house. It’s a small little cottage space, lots of windows and light streaming and highlighting bookshelves and typewriters. Namjoon is a writer, something you learned quickly yesterday from the first impression and from a small conversation with him. He’s actually published a book or two, but lately he’s been diving more into poetry and lyrics—hence, this is where his friendship with Yoongi comes into play.
“Here’s the notebook Yoongi needs,” Namjoon says, picking up the aforementioned black notebook from a low table and handing it to you. “He should be happy to see it again.”
You laugh, taking it from Namjoon. “He was already going through some separation anxiety.”
Namjoon smiles at that. “You’ve known Yoongi for awhile, right?”
You nod. “Since we were young. He lives across the street from me, so he was one of the first people I met when I first moved into the city.”
“That’s cute,” He says, that smile still present on his lips. It’s the kind of smile Karly has given you for years in response to Yoongi’s weekly visits. “He does talk about you a lot. He’s pretty quiet though and keeps to himself for the most part. Although I’m sure you know that already.”
You laugh, nodding again. “I do. But he’s really sweet.” You look down, unable to see the smile growing on Namjoon’s face as you dig through your bag to produce the folded envelope Yoongi had given you yesterday. “He asked me to give you this.”
Namjoon takes the envelope. “Thanks. Hold on a second so I can get your payment, okay?”
You watch as Namjoon turns around and takes his leave into another room, leaving you alone in this miniature library. Books cover one wall, and you glance over at the titles before looking back down at the notebook in your hands. You wonder what sort of lyrics Yoongi writes, how much of his heart he pours into pages.
You look down at it for a few more seconds before you shake your head. It would be rude and frankly, inappropriate to look through something so personal without permission. Regardless of your relationship with Yoongi, regardless of his openness to share things with you, this would probably be crossing the line. You hold the notebook by the spine, the opening to the pages facing the ground as you move to place the notebook into your bag.
Until a small slip of paper falls from between the pages.
You blink at the paper, immediately kneeling down to pick it up and slide it back into the notebook. However, the writing at the top of the folded slip makes you pause. It’s your name. You pick it up.
You hear the growing sound of footsteps from the other room, signalling Namjoon’s return. Quickly, you stuff the paper into your pocket and move to slide the notebook into your bag. Namjoon emerges just as you’re gathering the signature booklet. “This should cover it,” He says, handing you the money.
You pocket it. “Thanks a lot, Namjoon. If you can just sign this, that’ll be great.”
He takes the pen from you, signing on the dotted line. “Well, Y/N, it was good to see you again.” He says as he leads you back towards the front door of his house. “I’m assuming Yoongi will come by the shop tomorrow to pick up the notebook?”
You pick up the broom from the porch. “Most likely. I doubt he can handle another day without it.”
“Sounds like a date,” Namjoon says, walking you to the sidewalk outside of his house. There’s a teasing curve to his voice as you situate yourself on the broom. It’s a good natured noise, one that is still present in the air as you turn back to look at Namjoon. Maybe you would ask what he meant by that, if he had known Yoongi said the same thing. However, by the time you turn to look at Namjoon, the man is already making his way back to his house. Effectively ending the conversation
You turn back and float towards the sky once more.
“Namjoon said what Yoongi said earlier,” Tobio notes in your ear once the pair of you reach a suitable height to cruise back home. “What do you think that means?”
You sigh. “I don’t know, Tobio,” You say. The weight of the note in your dress pocket feels like it’s expanding, drawing your attention more and more to what could possibly be on that note the longer you’re in the sky. For a moment, you think maybe the note had been from Namjoon—but it takes less than a second to debunk that thought. You’ve seen Yoongi’s handwriting for years. It was definitely his note to you. But what could it be?
You don’t say anything, you don’t admire the view. You just function on autopilot, directing your broom back over the river and allowing yourself to land outside your house without a thought. From the distance, you can make out Karly having a conversation with a customer, laughter evident in her face as she wraps a bundle of hyacinths. You watch the interaction for a moment, before you make your way around the shop, situating yourself at the side of the building.
“You’re not gonna go in?” Tobio asks, eying you with a touch of concern and curiosity. “Still thinking about that note? It came from his notebook… maybe he doesn’t want you to read it.”
You take the note out of your pocket. It’s haphazardly folded, crumbled slightly as if he had rolled the paper into a ball before folding it into the uneven square you see before you. “Probably,” You say, turning it over in your hand. “But why would he even write something like this? If he wanted to tell me something, he could just come over and say it. It’s not like distance is a big problem in our ability to communicate.”
Tobio licks at his paw. “Maybe it’s something he can’t say to you.”
“Hm…” You hum, staring at the note, a flash of his penmanship catching your attention. A part of the note that his folding didn’t cover up. There’s a line drawn across the words, but it’s clear what he had written. Coffee shop.
Your narrow your eyes, fingers moving to unfold the note without a second thought. What kind of note would include your name and the mention of a coffee shop?
It’s a whole page, written like a letter. Your name is written at the top, messy flowers and stars doodled around the scribble.
A few verses of something are written directly underneath your name.
I’d touch the sky and cross the field, if you were waiting on the other side
A line is crossed through it.
You make me feel like I am everything/Teaching me to be the universe/Drawing me the stars and galaxies beyond/All along the palm of my hand
Another line through the words.
This is only a field of flowers rippling in the wind/But like morning light like it scatters the night/To make the day worth living
And another, but the line doesn’t erase the imagery that sprouts in your heart. It does not erase the corners of your lips upturning, because as small as these lines are, it feels like a window to Yoongi’s world. To have your name associated with these lines of hope and desire feels overwhelming and comforting at the same time.
Underneath the words is a letter. Your name.
I’m writing this in the shop right now. There’s a little bench Karly put down, and I think she’s thinking of starting a little cafe in this spot one day. I hope she does it. There’s something comforting about this place, and I think she knows that. You’re here today too. You aren’t doing deliveries today. Today is Sunday, so that makes sense. I’m glad for days like these, when you aren’t being whisked away on your broomstick, traveling hundreds of miles a day to bring people together and make everyone feel connected. You’re like the sunlight, bringing happiness across the sky, down the river, through the windows. Even just right now, you’re just standing behind the counter radiating. You’re wearing the apron Karly made you wear, with these little flowers embroidered across the front and looking so fucking cute.
Moments like these realize how important you are to me, and why I keep coming into the shop. I do need to make deliveries, but I do also like seeing your face on the mornings I come in. I’ve always wondered what you would do if I asked you out. I’d take you to a coffee shop and buy you any pastry you want. Anything to light up your eyes. I’d take you on a walk around the city, show you the world from my perspective. And maybe we’d be able to see the world from your perspective. These are daydreams I have, and every single one I conjure up of the two of us are very important to me. I don’t think I would ever have the courage to share those hopes with you. For now, I like the talks we have when I come in. I like the talks we have when you drop by. I like you. I want these things to happen, as I have ever since I met you.
If I can muster up the courage to ask you out one day.
You don’t realize that you’re in a trance, staring at the letter, smiling to yourself, until you hear the bell ring from the shop. You snap out of it, folding the paper back together just as you watch that same customer from earlier leave. As soon as the customer is on the sidewalk, you make your own way up the pathway and enter the shop. The bell rings overhead.
Karly is at the counter, arranging a bouquet—an explosion of purples and pinks. “Oh hey!” She greets upon seeing you. “I didn’t see you land. How was your delivery?”
You smile. “We’ll see tomorrow.”
.
The shop opens to a bright sunny morning, and you’re drumming your fingers. The place is empty, as it usually is right at opening. This is expected. What is unexpected is how anxious you feel about what is supposed to be happening later today. How much later, you aren’t sure. Maybe that’s why you’re so nervous about the ordeal.
“Your boyfriend will show up eventually,” Karly butts in, currently situated in the middle of the store with her own personal broom in hand. She’s dusting the floor. “He did say it was a date, after all.”
You flinch, blinking out of your trance. “I’m not waiting for Yoongi. And just because he said it was a date doesn’t mean anything.”
Karly’s lips twist up. “I never mentioned a name.”
Your eyes widen, flush immediately coating your cheeks. You pout, looking back towards the door. “Shut up.”
Karly’s giggling is the only thing that is heard for a little bit, until you catch sight of the familiar figure making his way up the pathway towards the shop. The way you straighten up and fix your hair happens much quicker than you are willing to admit.
“Morning, Yoongi,” You greet as Yoongi enters the shop, white t-shirt and denim jeans and an undercut that makes you want to cry. How could someone look so pretty? “Nice haircut.”
He stills at that, rubbing the back of his head as if he hadn’t expected you to notice. “T-Thanks,” He stammers, making his way towards you. “You look nice too,” He says, gesturing vaguely to the bow you’ve put at the top of your head. “Your hairpiece looks cute.”
You flush deeper. You had forgotten you put it on. It came with the box of bonsai trees that came in this morning. “Thank you,” You say, choosing to dig around underneath the counter to find what you had been preparing to give over since yesterday. “Your notebook.” You produce the thing, gently sliding it over to him. “In wonderful condition. Namjoon took good care of it.”
Yoongi takes the notebook, looking pleased with himself. “Nah, I think the credit goes more to you.” He smiles, eyes taking in your appearance once more.
You shrug. “Just… doing my job, Min Yoongi. I’ll see you around?”
He hesitates at that, looking like he wants to say something. Your heart skips a beat. He, however, just returns back to his shy smile. “Of course. See you around.” He turns around, making his way back towards the door.
You almost bite your own tongue, almost keep your words to yourself. The paper weighs like a lead in your dress pocket.
“Min Yoongi!” You call.
He stops, whirling around. “Yes?”
You take in a breath, looking at Karly, looking at Tobio. For two different creatures, they both wear a similar expression of exasperation, of urge, of encouragement. Swallowing, you reach into the pocket of your dress and produce the folded slip of paper. You hold it up. “Are you really going to leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?”
#yoongi scenarios#yoongi fluff#yoongi imagine#yoongi x reader#bts scenarios#bts x reader#bts fluff#bts imagines#bonus points if u can spot my see u soon easter egg#traci writes#collection:petals
220 notes
·
View notes
Text
Past Times
Apologies for taking my time over this - blame the January blues (and triple it). In this chapter, we go back to John’s first romantic liaison.
Word Count 3586
A/N I have to admit inspiration came from a certain popular Netflix show, but I’ve given it my own spin.
13 First Voyage
John took a deep steady breath as his Lizzie was taken away to her bedchamber. Her ignorance had been a little worrisome. As many well bred young ladies she knew almost nothing of the intimacies between husband and wife, as had Georgiana. It was a great burden to be responsible for the sexual instruction of an innocent maiden, and he constantly worried as to whether he went too fast, or not fast enough, or whether he would scare or disgust her. He was also under the scrutiny of her parents and his own mother, and his head span. He longed for all the dancing around and posturing and displaying oneself to worthy nobles to be over, and to simply be free to concentrate on making his beloved happy.
He laughed bitterly to himself. If they had been English, all they would have had to do was to elope over the Scottish border to Gretna Green, for in England under the age of 18, the bride’s parents had to give consent for marriage and in Scotland they could marry without it. So it was that technically Elizabeth did not need the consent of Sir James, but it was still not the done thing to disregard her parents wishes if one wanted to be received in polite company. So they followed all the rules and he asked for permission to court Lizzie, and they appeared in public with a chaperone, and attended all the right society events together.
In England, they would also have had to attend the social season and accept invitations to events at which Royalty was present, but thankfully in Scotland it was not quite so formal. Still, there were obligations and rituals that had to be observed, which continued tomorrow when the Ball would be held. His mother had made much of the arrangements, but when Elizabeth was his wife, such events would for her to oversee. Thankfully that would not occur until the following season, and before that they could have a proper honeymoon, and take time to travel a little.
It was the custom for young men of the time to travel around Europe, supposedly touring ruins, theatres and art galleries, but reality was somewhat different. There were those who were truly interested in culture, but many took the opportunity to indulge in various vices before returning to fulfil social obligations – that is to say, the continuation of their bloodline.
John had not made such a tour, having joined the Navy, but nonetheless he had seen something of the world, even if it were only the seaports his ship pulled into. He knew Lizzie wanted to travel, so he planned to take her to all the places he had wished to visit himself, and they would discover all that foreign culture had to offer. But that was a distant dream, for it would be some weeks at least before they would be properly wed. He hoped that very soon he could set a date and all would be fixed.
‘I think I will retire also’ Dorothea announced when Lizzie had gone off with Morag ‘You men may talk without regard for my sensibilities’ Tom rose and gave her an affectionate kiss on the cheek.
‘I will not be long my dear’ he said fondly, and she pinched his cheek saucily
‘If you are lucky I may be awake still when you retire’ she whispered. Tom smiled archly, looking sideways at his friend. When she had left, the two friends took another small measure of brandy and sat reflectively.
‘It seems you have had the good luck to find another gem as bright as your first wife, John’ Tom remarked. ‘She is a sweet girl and I can see she is quite struck with you’
‘I am fortunate indeed, and I am sure dear Georgiana would not deny me the company of another’ He smiled at his friend ‘And how are you and Dorothea enjoying married life?’
‘Very much, though it pains my dear wife that she is not yet with child.’ He took a sip of his brandy and gazed into the glass morosely ‘It is not for lack of trying, and Dottie never refuses me. She is enthusiastic – or was at first. She feels herself to blame for our failure, and I fear the day may come when it becomes a duty to go to bed with me rather than a pleasure’
‘That must be hard for you’ John empathised. Tom was the only son in his family and had three sisters. If he bore no heir, his estate would not go to any of them, but to a cousin. His mother was widowed and was anxious for him to continue his father’s bloodline. Tom looked up and pursed his lips in sympathy.
‘And you had a babe that you never saw’ he sighed ‘Let us hope that before too long we are both blessed and can stop worrying about the future’
‘Fate is fickle and we never know what life will bring us my dear Tom. We can hope, and we can enjoy what fortune we have’
‘Indeed, and I know you also favour helping those less fortunate than yourselves. I hope you are getting to grips with managing your father’s estate.’
‘Father’s agent will retire very soon, but Sir James has been good enough to recommend someone who is seeking a place and has good references, so I live in hope that I shall be able to train him up before I take Lizzie away to Europe once we are wed’
‘Excellent, I wish you luck’ Tom looked at his empty glass ‘I think I shall retire, for to drink more of your excellent brandy would be the cause of a sore head in the morning, and the displeasure of my wife’
There was little left for John to do than go to his own rooms to attempt to sleep, so when Tom had left the drawing room he let the staff know that all were abed. He climbed the stairs. Lingering on the landing he looked to the left to the corridor that led to Lizzie’s room, then took a right and went to his own suite.
Like his fiancée had earlier, John took stock of himself in the mirror as he undressed. Unlike the well bred ladies of the time, he needed no-one to help him in or out of his garments, though he often called on his manservant to ensure that he was properly turned out for formal occasions. The staff were also responsible for the proper maintenance, storage and cleaning of his clothes, and he was always meticulous as to how he left them once he had disrobed.
He hung his woollen jacket neatly before he unfastened his cravat and unbuttoned his waistcoat, storing those on a hanger before starting to unbutton his shirt, which he placed in a basket put aside for soiled linens. Some well dressed dandies in the city were known to change their shirts more than once a day, but he thought that extravagant, although he if he could he chose to have a clean nightshirt and another for the day. His military service made him appreciate the work that went into the laundering of his uniform, as not all officers were fortunate enough to have staff to do that work for them. A clean shirt had often been a luxury and overlooked except when being inspected by senior land based officers. In his early days he had second hand uniform that appeared a little shabby at best, and much of his first wage packet had been spent on new items.
He had already taken off his indoor shoes. During the day for outside pursuits he had worn his high black leather boots, but for dining and dancing he wore something lighter – a finer leather, soft and pliable but with reasonably sturdy smooth soles to suit a wooden dancing floor. He was tall enough not to need stacked heels, unlike Tom who favoured an inch or two in all his footwear. Due to his injury he could only participate in the slower dances, but he was grateful to be able to dance at all. It was not uncommon for sailors to lose limbs in sea battles, or for them never to return home should their ship be sunk in battle.
His retirement from duty had been traumatic – had he not been injured and had to spend time recovering in London before he returned home, he might have seen his wife and new baby son. They might not have fallen ill, or perhaps he would have been taken with them. It was not worth thinking of what might have happened, he told himself. Perhaps his meeting with Elizabeth had been fated from the start and Georgiana was but a stepping stone to his destiny.
He stood in his knee length breeches and stockinged feet, observing that he had lost the hard muscled belly of his days at sea. However, he still cut a fine figure as he made sure to exercise regularly, be it walking or riding at the very least. When in the city he had kept up his fencing and boxing, but that was difficult in the country.
He unfastened the buttons on his breeches, first letting down the front flap, then unbuttoning the waistband. He favoured full length breeches rather than the shorter knee length ones, as he could garter his stockings at a comfortable height that did not irritate or chafe his injured leg. He was still self conscious about the scar that ran from his inner left thigh down to his knee, but it grew less livid by the day. A splinter from the impact of a cannonball into the side of his ship had pieced his flesh and the cut that the ships surgeon had to make to remove it become infected. He had been extremely fortunate not to have lost it and still had not regained the strength in that leg. He had been advised to rub salve into it to keep it soft, and this he did every night. He prayed it would not upset or repulse Elizabeth.
He pulled down his breeches and stepped out of them to fold neatly for the next time he wore them. Tomorrow he would wear a finer pair in the morning, ready to greet visitors later on, and would change again for the ball. He still wore his stockings, and shook his head as he looked at himself in the mirror, thinking of his wedding night. He resolved that on that occasion he would remove his breeches and stockings before his shirt, as that would be more comely for his bride. To suddenly reveal his manhood to her would be alarming, and a shirt that dropped halfway down his thighs could be removed when he deemed she was ready. He sometimes slept in the shirt he had worn in the day anyway, as did many gentlemen with more modest wardrobes.
He peeled off his stockings and realised he had grown hard thinking of his wedding night. That had been a problem of late, and he was conflicted by having such a reaction to an innocent maiden even if she was to be his bride. He had said to her that he thought of her when he went to bed at night, but in truth he tried to keep his thoughts of her relatively chaste. It did not seem right to remember Georgiana either, so his night time fantasies were of another woman.
Most young gentlemen would lose their virginity long before determining on a wife. Some enticed and seduced dairy maids or chambermaids or some other lower class girl, those who lived in or visited the city frequented bawdy houses or visited prostitutes or courtesans, and some made their conquests on their tours of Europe. John had been amongst the minority and had not had any sexual encounters by the time he became midshipman. A good friend and fellow officer, Gerald, knew of this and took him into the city from their barracks at Greenwich a few days before they were to sail together on duty.
Together the two men went to one of the lesser known theatres to see a play, as Gerald knew that John was more interested in culture than in drinking himself silly like many lesser men. He had led him backstage after the performance, and had engaged two comely young actresses in conversation. One thing had lead to another and before he knew it, John was in Miss Alice Bailey’s bedchamber taking his clothes off and enjoying her attentions. He had spent every night of their stay in her company, and whenever he visited the town would go and call on her again. He was not her only male visitor, but he was a favourite and she always made time for him. So it was that he learned many things about what women liked in the bedroom and how to please them as well as himself. This was a skill that not all young gentlemen acquired, and one that had benefitted Georgiana and would do so for Elizabeth.
‘So, John’ the captivating young actress said in a sultry voice ‘Would you care to view my lodging rooms? I fancy my landlady might have a spare room for a night or two, or if you are agreeable I’m sure you could share my bed’ John swallowed, mesmerised by the globes of Alice’s bosom hitched up for display by her corseted dress. Her scent was intoxicating, and he felt himself harden in his breeches. He understood what she offered, for Gerald had given him a broad wink as he had taken the arm of Alice’s friend and declared that they would take a walk in the night air. He had no doubt that he would not see him again until the next day, and he had no clue how to get back to his barracks for the night save to summon a hansom cab. He cleared his throat.
‘I am not sure that would be proper, Mistress Bailey’ She pouted a little.
‘Come sirrah, call me Alice. Your friend has gone, and who will know where you spend the night, and with whom? Will you not walk me home in case some ruffian should accost me on the way?’ John’s resolve crumbled as she made her intention even more obvious.
‘I could not call myself a gentleman if I did not’ he said firmly, and held out his arm for her. Smiling, she took up her cloak and swung it around her shoulders before taking what was offered. Out in the fresh air, he adjusted his tricorn hat and gold braided officer’s jacket and she drew her hood up over her dark curly hair. He cut a fine figure in his naval uniform with snowy white knee length breeches and fine high leather boots, and her cloak was of a fine red velvet, so they turned more than a few heads as he walked her along the street to her lodging house. The streets were dirty, though not as bad as the slum areas near the docks. The place she called home was some degrees above the slums, but not as high or fine as the middle class housing he was used to in his home town.
‘Will you take a drink with me as thanks for my safe delivery?’ she asked at the door of the lodging house. ‘I have other refreshments if you wish for something sweet.’ He hesitated a moment, but she was determined. ‘Are you afraid of being alone with me, sir?’ she asked archly, and he drew himself up, his pride piqued.
‘Of course not. Lead on, Miss Alice’ She smiled and, opening the door, took his hand and lead him inside and up two flights of stairs. There was not a soul in the hall or on the stairwell, and all was quiet. She took him into the room, taking off her cloak and hanging it on a hook on the door. The room was spacious enough, dominated by a goodly sized bed and chest of drawers, a small table and two padded chairs, and a window overlooked the street below. She went to a cupboard by the window and took out a bottle of wine and two glasses. He took off his hat, hanging it over her cloak before removing his jacket and placing that on the back of one of the chairs.
Alice approached handed him a glass of red wine, and they lightly clinked them together before drinking.
‘So what brings you to the city?’ she asked
‘I have some leave whilst I wait for my ship to dock, and Gerald thought it a fine idea to visit the theatre.’
‘You must be a midshipman then’, she said, sipping from her glass. Her tongue traced across her lips to chase a drop of wine, and with that and her soft breasts, he was mesmerised. ‘What did you think of the play?’ she asked, and he snapped back to reality.
‘It was most entertaining’ he said politely, and she laughed.
‘I know it was not high art, but I am glad to hear you enjoyed it. Do you sail soon?’
‘Our ship is refitting and taking on supplies, so it will be two or three days at least’
‘Shall you see battle?’
‘Perhaps. That rather depends on the French, and where the admiralty sends us’ She took his hand and drew closer to him, gazing into his eyes.
‘Many sailors seek the comfort of a woman before they sail on a dangerous mission’ she said in a sultry voice ‘I would be happy to provide that for you’ he cleared his throat and felt his cheeks redden.
‘I have not – that is, I…’ he started, ashamed to admit that he had never been with a woman, but she put her finger to his lips.
‘So I am your first, John’ she murmured ‘It shall be my honour to teach you the delights of intimacy’ Questions crowded his mind, but she seemed to understand. ‘I wish only to give you pleasure, and take some for myself. You need not fear siring a child, for I am barren, and I shall not demand marriage. I have other admirers and love my way of life’ She smiled, and her fingers went to his collar, unfastening his cravat. ‘You are handsome and have a good figure. I wager you are gentle and considerate. I can teach you how to please a woman, which will stand you in good stead whether you marry, or keep a dozen mistresses’
She carried on unbuttoning his shirt, but he caught at her hand and stared down at her, suddenly needing to take charge, if only for a moment. He bent his head to kiss her lips – softly at first, then with passion, her mouth opening to his. She tasted of wine and strawberries, and he could not identify her scent, but it was heady and intoxicating. He did not want his first time to be a quick fumble, but it was hard keeping control of his ardour.
‘Mistress Alice’ he groaned ‘I know not how long I will last. I pray I will not disappoint’ Like most men he knew how to handle his member, and regularly relieved himself, so knew the signs for when he drew near to releasing his seed. The lovely young woman before him was stimulating all his senses and he feared it would all be over too soon. Her hand wandered down to his breeches to feel his hardness, pressing her palm over the bulge and smiling slyly.
‘You will not disappoint, by the size of your cannon’ she laughed softly ‘But you worry about firing before the target is in range. Never fear, your first shot is a gift from me. After that, you will swiftly recover and we will take our time and reach the goal together.’
At this, she pushed him to the door where her cloak hung and knelt in front of him. He gaped at her in amazement as she unfastened the front of his breeches to fondle his privates. He groaned aloud, leaning back into the soft velvet as she moved closer, placing her warm tongue to the base of his shaft and drawing it upward. His legs trembled and his hand went to her head as she placed her lips over the tip. She quickly took him into her mouth, and skilfully applied lips and tongue for his pleasure. Before soon he knew he could not hold back for a second longer, and gave a great groan as he seemed to erupt into the wet warmth of her mouth. She stayed with him as his hips bucked, and swallowed what he gave her. His heart pounded as she sat back, licking her lips before getting up to fetch her wine and take a good mouthful. She put the glass down and beckoned him.
‘Now take off your boots and clothes and come to bed - I have much to teach you’ she purred.
@sirbeepsalot @camillemontespan @dcbbw @rainbowsinthestorm @katedrakeohd @trappedinfandoms @kingliam2019 @nomadics-stuff @texaskitten30 @princess-geek @texaskitten30 @fluffyfirewhiskey
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Merry Pranksters - Miles wants to play a practical joke on Julian while the doctor is off the station and asks Garak, of all people, for help.
(3,6k words, Miles & Garak gen fic)
Garak was just about to close up for the day when Miles O'Brien appeared quite unexpectedly. He was an infrequent visitor in the shop. The chief tended to leave sartorial considerations to his wife when he could get away with it. Outside of his holosuite costumes, that is, and in those cases he usually discussed things thoroughly with the doctor before letting Julian make the actual arrangements with the tailor.
"Good evening, Chief O'Brien," Garak greeted him as pleasantly as any customer. "How are those trousers I mended working out for you?"
"Fine, fine. Good as new," Miles said, but nothing more.
"Was there something you need?”
"You, uh... you want to help me prank Julian?" Miles asked.
-------------------------------------------------------
Garak was just about to close up for the day when Miles O'Brien appeared quite unexpectedly. He was an infrequent visitor in the shop. The chief tended to leave sartorial considerations to his wife when he could get away with it. Outside of his holosuite costumes, that is, and in those cases he usually discussed things thoroughly with the doctor before letting Julian make arrangements with the tailor.
"Good evening, Chief O'Brien," Garak greeted him pleasantly. "How are those trousers I mended working out for you?"
"Fine, fine. Good as new," Miles said, but nothing more.
"Was there something you need? Don't tell me young Miss Molly had another growth spurt again so soon? That would be most inconvenient to Mrs. O'Brien. I believe she said they would be on Bajor this month? There aren't many clothing shops in the mountains of Ray'laht."
Miles was surprised, and not sure how he felt about the Cardassian talking so familiarly, and knowledgeably, about his family like that. But of course Garak would know a bit about it. Keiko liked the man, naturally would she would chat with him whenever Molly's pants were getting too short again and she had need of his services. Keiko was a nice, engaging woman and most people liked talking to her. Miles wouldn't have guessed Garak would care enough to listen, but then the man was or used to be a spy. He probably filed away any bit of intel, no matter how innocuous, just in case it came in handy later.
"Not that I am aware of yet," Miles answered, and huffed a laugh. "Won't be long though, the way she's growing."
Now that he thought of it, though, he could remember Julian mentioning that Cardassians were real big on family and loved children. Both apparently being big themes in the books Julian read and discussed with Garak. Julian, bless him, didn't try to get Miles to read any of it, limiting himself to the very broadest strokes of the stories when recounting his weekly lunches with the tailor. And Molly was adorable enough to win hearts wherever she went. It was possible that Garak not only knew but had a genuine friendly interest (as well as a professional one) in not just Molly's measurements but things like her favorite colors and what she liked to do for play. Some of the stain-resistant fabrics Garak had tracked down were a godsend, given how much the girl loved to paint.
Miles might not spend more time with Garak than he had to, but that didn't mean the man was entirely removed from his life. Even if Julian wasn't friends with the man, he would still be there on the station. In his tailor shop, discussing orchids with Keiko and making a mental note that young Miss Molly O'Brien detested knitted sweaters and broke out all over in itchy hives no matter how soft the wool.
Garak looked at the human and tried not to grin widely at the man's reticence, knowing the chief would only interpret it poorly. Garak simply enjoyed drawing information out of people otherwise reluctant to give it away. That's what had made him so good at procuring information for the Order. An honest zeal for the work.
"I stand at the ready when she does," Garak said with his blandest salesman smile. Which was really the only one the chief was likely to trust. "I was just about to close up for the night, if there's no assistance I can offer...."
He trailed off, eyes widened expectantly. Obviously the human had a reason to come here. O'Brien more than most was no fan of Cardassian company. With any other potential customers Garak would have set up an appointment for the following day. But if the chief was here for a fitting it wouldn't take long and Garak suspected O'Brien would be just as happy to have to over and done with quickly.
Miles didn't immediately answer and Garak began to turn away before the chief spoke up.
"You, uh... you want to help me prank Julian?" he asked.
"Pardon me?" Garak's tone and expression were a little too politely confused by half.
"You know, a practical joke."
O'Brien didn't believe for one second that the savvy ex-spy had lived among humans for so long without learning about pranks. In fact, he was damn sure a species as naturally devious as Cardassians was already intimately familiar with the concept, so he didn't elaborate.
"Julian's back from his conference tomorrow," he said instead, "Thought we could arrange a little 'surprise' for him."
"We? As in you and I?"
"Sure! Pranks are more fun with an accomplice," Miles said with a slight smile, and squinted speculatively at him. "And you seem like you might know a thing or two about being a co-conspirator."
Garak didn't insult the chief with his usual protestations that he was just a plain and simple tailor who couldn't possibly conspire against a soul, except perhaps his fractious supplier of Orellian brocade. In truth, the oft-repeated denial of his former career was getting a little tired. One should endeavor not to repeat the same lie too many times. And he was quite sure no one else found it as amusing as Julian did.
"Why me?" he asked. The two men did not have a habit of spending time in each other's company.
"Why not you?"
Miles tried not to get annoyed by the interrogation. He knew it was only annoying because he didn't want to explain himself. He had made the decision to try to be more friendly towards Garak, to reach out and include him in some shenanigans. It was his own fault if that gave the fellow a chance to get under his skin.
And it was a fair question after all, given the usually chilly civility between them.
"Dax and I have pranked Julian a dozen times already," Miles said. "Who else am I going to ask? Sisko? He's my commanding officer. Worf's barely got a sense of humor. And Odo is the station's head of security."
"You expect to engage in acts of dubious legality then?" Garak raised his brow ridges as if scandalized, but there was definitely a hint of mischief in his gaze.
"I expect Odo would find breaking into Julian's quarters a bit dubious, yes." Miles nodded.
Hmm, interesting. Garak was already intrigued by the novelty of the situation. The chief inviting Garak of all people into his fun. There was a 'why' to be discovered there and Garak did enjoy a mystery. But even if there were any reason to suspect the chief's motives might be nefarious, the chance to snoop around the doctor's quarters a bit would still be impossible to resist.
"Actually Quark is pretty good at schemes," Miles continued on through the list, "but there's no latinum in this for him so he wont bother himself. And the Major... well, she's had a hard life. A real rough time growing up. I'm not sure she would see the point in this sort of... silliness. And it occurs to me now that might be true for you too." Miles finished awkwardly. "I mean, I understand if you aren't interested."
Miles, with the natural intuition of a man of similar age who had seen his fair share of trouble, had guessed that Garak had been through a lot in his life. Even if he didn't have any idea what exactly. Garak didn't worry about anything Julian might have told Miles about the former spy's life simply because Garak hadn't told Julian much of anything that could be confirmed as truth. Station gossip surprisingly didn't have much to say about him beyond the painfully unimaginative: that he was still a spy, loyal to Cardassia, in service of the Obsidian Order, here to steal highly classified information and disrupt Federation efforts. Largely negative, but not so bad as to stop the gruff human engineer from sympathizing where he thought they might have common ground of being victims of trauma. Garak could almost feel a sort of... camaraderie with him for it.
"Why Chief, are you implying that I'm no fun?" Garak pivoted, a playful smile served with the joke. Easing their mutual discomfort at the near brush with emotional honesty, and signaling his acceptance of the scheme.
Miles barked an honest laugh at that and grinned back, relieved and, yes, a little amused by the Cardassian.
"I'll get what we need while you close up shop. Meet me at my quarters and we'll walk over to Julian's together."
When he received a nod of acquiescence, Miles left, cheerfully whistling on his way down the Promenade.
Garak was quite sure O'Brien knew he was just as capable of breaking into crew quarters as the engineer. But the former spy lurking around on a habitat level not his own would definitely draw some suspicion from station security. He did have a history of going where he wasn't authorized to be when the situation called for it and a door lock had never stopped that. In the chief's company his presence was less likely to be questioned, but Garak knew how to handle any potential run-ins with Odo regardless.
"Hey," O'Brien greeted him when Garak arrived at the chief's quarters with a parcel under his arm. "What's that?"
"My excuse for being on this level this time of night." Garak handed the package to Miles. "For Miss Molly. They'll be a little big yet, but that hardly matters with pajamas."
"What, did you sew these in the 10 minutes since I left you?" Miles asked with mild astonishment.
"I already had the pattern cut and fabric pinned," Garak said with a dismissive wave. "they were just waiting for the updated inseam measurement. It hardly took a moment to run my handheld seamer over it all."
Huh. Prepared for anything, this one, Miles thought as he accepted the parcel with a nod of thanks and set it down next to two Starfleet issue canvas duffle bags. One of which he hefted, the other he handed to Garak.
"Shall we?"
They made short work of the walk to the doctor's quarters and even shorter work of bypassing Julian's lock code to let themselves in.
Garak crossed to a table where he could set down the bag he held. Next to a pair of data padds that he made sure to 'accidentally' bump so as to activate their screens, which he then just happened to glance at long enough to make note of their contents. All of which would have gone unnoticed even if the room had been crowded with people. Garak was very discreet.
"What's the plan, Mister O'Brien?" He asked, opening the bag to pull out its contents. Which he stared at thoughtfully a moment before he gave up guessing and turned to ask an explanation. "With all these...pieces of paper?"
The bag was crammed full with short stacks of small slips of paper in various neon hues.
"They're called Post-Its, or sticky notes back home. Not exactly a novel concept, I've seen similar things around the galaxy. They mostly fell out of fashion on Earth in the 21st century when people started carrying electronic devices everywhere. You write notes on them: reminders, messages, shopping lists. They have adhesive on the back so you can stick them wherever you need and they come in bright colors so you can't miss seeing them."
"So we're going to... write notes to the doctor on these little squares?" Garak ask skeptically. That didn't seem terribly amusing but then, it would matter a great deal what exactly was written.
"No." Miles eyes suddenly gleamed with a light that bore ill tidings for Julian Bashir. "We are going to stick every single one of these little squares to every single surface we can reach until the whole room is covered with them." As Garak caught on and began to smile, Miles smiled back. "Though, now you mention it.... it could be funny to write stuff on 'em."
"Not all of them surely?" Garak asked.
O'Brien eyed his own bag crammed full of as many Post-Its as he could replicate. His hand cramped at just the idea of all that writing and he made a face.
"Because" Garak hastened to suggest, no more enamored with the thought of that task than the chief, "I really think it would be more amusing to write only on a select few of them. Say, give each word of a sentence its own square and scatter the message around the room. This would force him to examine every last one if he wants to be sure he's found all them."
"Garak, that's brilliant!" Miles grinned. Okay, maybe now he could see how Julian found Garak's devious mind enjoyable instead of just worrisome. "He won't be able to resist finding the clues so he cant just sweep everything into the recycler, he'll have to leave it all up and stare at it until he solves the puzzle."
Miles chortled, pulling out a cube of sticky notes and handing it to Garak.
"You think up a message, I'll try to find you a pen."
"No need, Chief." Garak pulled an elegant looking pen from a discreet pocket in his trousers.
"You just carry a fountain pen around with you?" Miles asked.
Plenty of people still enjoyed the tactile feeling of writing, Jake Sisko to name one, but who actually carried such an old-fashioned writing implement? Most everything on the station could be handled through a computer or padd. And even a standard ink stylus would work more reliably than a fussy fountain pen. They never leaked and stained your uniform, for one.
"A tailor is always prepared for anything," Garak said with a smirk, unknowingly echoing Miles' earlier thought.
Miles shook his head but he was still smiling as he turned away to start covering Julian's chair.
They were both accustomed to working with brisk efficiency so it didn't take as long as either expected to work their way around the room in opposite directions, covering everything in a kaleidoscope of neon paper. Still, it would have bordered on tedious if Miles hadn't broken the silence with a few stories of past pranks. Garak warmed up to the subject as he came to find the other man could be delightfully inventive in his mischief. The prank they were currently engaged in, while diverting, was not particularly impressive by Garak's estimation. The chief agreed.
"This is a pretty amateur effort, if I'm honest," Miles said over his shoulder as he lined the doorway to Julian's bedroom with bright blue squares. "But it was all spur of the moment. I didn't have the time to plan anything more elaborate before tomorrow. Besides, Keiko would have words for me if she came home to find i blew a bunch of latinum to play a joke on Julian. This only cost me replicator credits."
Garak could understand the pressure of a deadline, and a budget. Sometimes an uncomplicated plan was best when one was in a pinch.
"I think the doctor will be amused, regardless of the simplicity," he offered as reassurance to Miles. "And if he happens to return exhausted from his travels, it will be a kindness for him that it's not something a great deal more involved."
Garak was thinking of one of the stories Miles had just shared about locking a particularly annoying Enterprise crewmate in the holodeck for several hours to play out an especially embarrassing scenario.
Miles for his part was thinking how interesting it was for Garak to be so considerate of Julian's comfort like that. The doctor was known for his abundance (some might say excess) of energy; all bounce-and-go. He wasn't exactly the type you'd ever think of as being in need of a nap. Fretting that someone would have a proper chance to rest after a long trip... that spoke of a certain level of caring, in his experience. What level exactly Miles wasn't ready to hazard a guess at. He couldn't read the Cardassian in the best of times, let alone when they were both at work with their backs to each other.
Huh. Willingly turning his back on a Cardassian, a known operative of the Obsidian Order, alone and in close quarters with no witnesses. Miles could honestly say he didn't trust the man. If Quark had a pool going, O'Brien would lay a bet that Garak had at least 2 weapons hidden on his person at any time. But he somehow knew Garak's deceit did not extend to doing violence in this sort of innocuous situation.
Their final task was to cover the shelving along one wall, full of Bashir's books and belongings. They worked their way up from the floor, with some discussion as to how to wrap oddly-shaped knick-knacks, until they reached the top shelf. And its lumpy, rather disreputable looking occupant.
O'Brien eyed it dubiously.
"I don't think Julian will thank us for messing with Kukalaka. The adhesive on these things is pretty weak but still... that bear is half dust, held together by nostalgia and stubbornness. I don't want to try sticking anything to that threadbare fur."
Garak regarded the teddy bear, largely ignored on his previous visit (intrusion) in the doctor's quarters. The chief was obviously well familiar with the toy and what it meant to Julian. Miles didn't offer further information but Garak could read between the lines and tell it important. Very important indeed. Sudden inspiration suppressed the burning curiosity he knew wouldn't be satisfied in the moment anyway.
"I think we can include... Kukalaka, is it? in on the fun without harming him," Garak smiled at the chief.
While O'Brien finished the rest of the shelf, Garak grabbed a cube of notes and began layering them until he had a large multi-colored sheet. Very carefully (the chief was right, the adhesive barely stuck to anything) he began to fold his creation. Spare minutes later Kukalaka was the proud possessor of a very dapper, day-glo hat. All sticky edges safely folded and tucked away.
"Huh, I didn't know you could do origami." O'Brien remarked as he took in Garak's handiwork.
"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the term."
"Oh, its an art form from Earth's Japanese culture. Folding paper to create shapes, usually animals and flowers and the like."
"And hats?"
"And hats." Miles chuckled. "I'm not too bad at it myself. Keiko taught me, thinking with all the fiddly engineering work I do my fingers would be good at it. She was right, like she usually is."
"I would imagine several society with advanced paper industries have developed similar arts," Garak said, always interesting in cross-comparing cultures. "I'll have to ask Mrs. O'Brien to tell me more about this origami sometime."
"You should," Miles' smile was... actually genuinely friendly. It was not a sight Garak was used to seeing. "She'd enjoy talking to you about it."
They both looked around for a long moment, feeling satisfaction at the visible results of their efforts. Nearly every surface was decked in bright colors. They didn't have enough supplies to completely cover the walls so they settled for framing the doorways and viewport, and covering all the wall art. An armchair was a violent neon purple, the low table before it a yellow that hurt Garak's eyes to look at directly. The replicator in the wall was ringed in concentric stripes and Julian's desk was covered in no less than 5 different eye-searing shades.
"I wish I could see his face when he walks in," Miles chortled, almost boyish in his glee.
"I can send you the feed from my hidden surveillance devices," Garak offered with a straight face and level tone.
Any other day that line, delivered with that sort of aplomb, would have left O'Brien with a suspicious, questioning glare. Such a thing was by no means beyond Garak's capabilities or outside his morals, they both knew that. But, despite himself, the unique experience of spending this time with the chief did not lend itself to Garal projecting his usual aura of danger cloaked in affability. The engineer looked him over and he could practically see Garak radiating with a energy of what he could only describe of as.... fun.
So Miles didn't bother to take the joke seriously. Even if it was true and Garak did have illegal surveillance equipment set up, the chief would never actually get confirmation or proof of it so it didn't bear worrying about right now. If, later, Miles decided it was a credible threat he would mention it to Julian.
"C'mon," Miles said, almost going as far as giving the man a good-natured slap on the back but definitely smart enough not to push his luck. "I'll buy us a round at Quark's in the name of a job well done."
"I don't think we've ever had a drink together, Chief," Garak couldn't help but point out, because it was in his nature to stir the pot, to provoke a reaction just to see what he would get.
Miles shrugged that off, knowing it was true enough. But the whole night had been unprecedented anyway, and he for one had worked up a thirst.
"You can relieve Quark of some of that overstock of kanar he's always complaining about taking up space in his store room. The more you drink, the less I have to listen to him whinge about it," the human said.
Garak accepted that, and the offer of a drink; oddly more comfortable for it to be a matter of selfishness on O'Brien's part rather than an honest gesture of kindness from an acquaintance. What sort of life left a man unable to trust motives that weren't entirely devious and self-serving? Miles shook the thought off as they headed for the Promenade and the bar. He was much too tired to go digging around in anyone's psyche right now, much less the enigma of a man beside him.
#yes this is silly but whatever#I just wanted them to be friends#their respective skillsets would make them super talented at hijinks#star trek deep space 9#ds9 fic#star trek ds9#miles o'brien#elim garak#deep space nine#ds9#star trek fic
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
15x12: Galaxy Brain
Welcome back to the new recaps! We’ll be doing recaps on Thursdays now that the show airs on Mondays.
Then:
Remember when death was welcome and we had no hope?
Now:
Four Weeks Ago:
Earth 2
At an unassuming Radio Shed, a woman casually strolls around getting creeped on by the store clerk. He’s just an eager salesman, but dude…(Also, I’m a bad fan and had to Shazam the song playing. I thought it was quite on the nose with the whole “I had a dream that I ate your heart” considering Jack’s recent activities. It turns out to be Louden Swain, and all you real fans must have been dying laughing at how perfectly placed the song was.)
The dude is despondent when the woman leaves, but then a new customer arrives, eyeing up the wall of televisions. It’s Chuck. The guy gives his best spiel, but Chuck isn’t interested. “It’s monologue time,” he states.
Chuck explains his twisted life story.
And shows us the world:
Anybody else wish we would have had a glimpse of Squirrel World in these television sets? Well, Chuck waxes poetic about all the worlds he’s created and how none of them bring him as much happiness as the world with the real Sam and Dean. “They challenge me. They disappoint me. They surprise me. They’re the ones.” Chuck then decides that it’s time to clear the board and get rid of everything but the world with the real Sam and Dean (WEEPS OVER THE “FAILED SPIN-OFFS” LINE. BOBO WE’RE SO SORRY.)
Sioux Falls.
Our World.
Now.
We find Jody Mills having too much fun investigating the death of a cow. She gets a call from Alex and we learn that life keeps humming along for our Wayward women.
Once off the phone, Jody sees a flash of motion from a barn and heads to check it out. Someone attacks her from behind. JODY!
At the bunker, Sam, Dean, and Cas discuss what to do about Jack and his deal with Death. Sam’s concerned because Jack doesn’t have his soul still. We cut to Jack looking at the carvings of DW, SW, AND MW. He lightly grazes the MW. We know exactly where his soulless mind is.
He heads to his bedroom and he’s surprised when a reaper appears.
Sam continues to question the plan of Billie’s that Jack will kill God. Cas fully trusts his little nephilim son. Dean’s spent some time with Death and thinks she has it figured out.
The reaper tries to reassure Jack that Billie’s plan will work as long as he follows the rules --lay low, wait for instructions, don’t use his powers. They need to keep Chuck out of the loop.
Sam interrupts the conversation and Jack lies about who he was talking to. Sam tries reassuring Jack that they’re very happy to have him home and that they will help him.
Meanwhile, recently reunited husbands share a celebratory drink now that they’re family is back together. Cas can’t help but gloat over how right he was and celebrate his faith in Jack. Dean wants to celebrate getting revenge. I want to celebrate these two yahoos talking again!
Dean gets a call from Jody. She’s in trouble.
Sam and Dean head out and find Jody tied up in the barn. Dark Kaia attacks! She’s seriously badass, but no competition for the Winchesters + one Mills. She wants her spear back --and more to the point, she wants to go home. Sam wants to know why she even wants to go back to that place. She tells them the world is dying. She knows this because she still has a connection to our Kaia. YEP. Kaia is STILL ALIVE PEOPLE. Dark Kaia left her the tools to stay alive, and she has, but Dark Kaia wants to go back. And now the others want to save Kaia.
At the bunker, Cas and Jack bond over a fun game of Connect Four.
Sam, Dean, and Jody arrive back at the bunker --with Dark Kaia in tow.
*JODY AND CAS FINALLY MEET ALERT*
They all agree that Jack can’t use his powers to help Dark Kaia get home, but they have to save their Kaia another way.
While they figure that out, they chain Dark Kaia to the kitchen table and give her a magazine to read.
Jack thinks he’s found a great spell but John Winchester had to ruin everything and kill off one of the necessary ingredients. How that man is able to ruin things this far in the grave will never cease to amaze me. Dean sends Jack to check in on Jody and Cas.
Jody and Cas discuss their almost daughter, Claire, and her quest for revenge. Jody tells Cas that Claire loved Kaia, and Jody doesn’t want to tell Claire about this recent development. It would be too much for her to bear if things don’t work out.
Jack morosely peeks in on the stalled progress of Jody and Cas, then stops to talk to Alt!Kaia. She’s angry, accusing him of encouraging Kaia to make the jump to the other world. It’s his fault that Kaia is in pain and about to die.
Alt!Kaia wanted to visit Earth Prime because it looked comfortable, but she finds it cold instead and hard to live in. She begs Jack for help in a way that makes you think she’s never begged for a thing in her entire life before. Jack dreamwalks with her and confirms that Kaia is trapped in the Bad Place and an all-swallowing storm is coming for her.
Jack heads into the library, advertising his intent to the Winchesters that he’ll save Kaia from the Bad Place. Merle, the reaper from earlier, appears. She is…ENTIRELY unimpressed by this plan. Saving Kaia is “Winchester dumb,” Merle insists.
If Jack tries to save Kaia, Merle is totally running off and tattling on him to Death. Jack reads the room and calls her bluff. “Go,” he tells her. He’ll open a rift with his magic and Merle can just DEAL with Billie’s wrath when she comes running. Merle’s not so hot on that prospect, instead reluctantly coughing up a plan B. The cosmic warding Amara removed from the bunkers is the key!
But FIRST our patron saint of long suffering salt, Merle, insults the Winchesters’ rune repair work. The Winchesters re-warded their walls against demons and monsters, but didn’t come close to the “cosmic grade stuff.”
She can rattle up the warding temporarily to block Chuck’s perception, but she’ll need to add a little battery power to the attempt. She demands the use of “your angel” to properly run the spell.
Sam, our very best witch, recites the spell. Runes glow along the bunker walls and edges as the shielding spell takes hold.
Heading out, the Winchesters agree that the plan is reckless, stupid…and it FEELS REALLY GOOD. They’re back to their roots, baby! Give me my dumb, poorly planned, big hearted missions any day.
Cas corners Jody, asking her to stay behind as well. He never bonded with Claire - and couldn’t given their history - but Jody did. He doesn’t want to picture a world where Claire loses both Kaia and Jody. The truth settles over Jody like a thick wool blanket and she agrees to stay behind.
For Soft Cas Science:
Cas and Merle supercharge the wardings.
Once the wardings are active, Jack slings out a rift to the Bad Place. Alt!Kaia smiles at last and ducks inside, quickly followed by the Winchesters. The Bad Place is rainy and windy and full of red-eyed monsters LOOK OUT!
Alt-Kaia realizes that the monsters are just scared of a roiling gray storm and they head off to find Kaia. Dean greets her with a “Hey, kid,” and a hug! KAIA IS SAVED!
Alt-Kaia, however, decides to stay behind. The Bad Place is her home, its ending be damned. The Winchesters race off with Kaia and Alt!Kaia greet the oncoming nothingness with open arms.
They make it back through the rift and Jody gives Kaia a great big MOM HUG. Kaia’s eyes slip closed. She’s safe at last.
A little while later, Kaia has availed herself of the bunker’s excellent water pressure or possibly even that amazing bathtub. She’s now wearing Jack’s spare sweatpants. Bless.
She tells Jack that she survived by anchoring herself around a children’s rhyme her mother sang to her: Miss Mary Mack. Jack attempts to grasp another tiny sliver of humanity. Good luck, Jack. Many of us work on that to this very day!
Jody invites Kaia to live with her. “Will Claire be there?” Kaia asks and it’s…REAL CUTE GUYS. Wayward Sisters lives on, even if it’s off screen. ALL THE HEARTS
Merle dumps a big soaked blanket over the celebration. “If I cared for a second about saving that girl, I guess I’d say that was a victory,” she says with a weary sigh. I love this GRIM reaper. Sadly, she’s not long for this world. Billie’s scythe jabs through Merle’s throat and tears her into little cosmic pieces.
Billie CANNOT BELIEVE these Winchesters. “Bending the rules already, Jack.”
“I tried to call you,” Jack all but squeaks out.
No excuse, bud. She’s not mad, she’s disappointed. Billie explains that she sees the big picture, even if nobody else does. All the worlds except this one are dying.
“It’s Chuck,” Cas surmises, and Billie rewards him with a no-shit-sherlock look for the ages.
Sam demands answers. “When I became Death,” Billie says, “I inherited Death’s knowledge and Death’s library. And in Death’s library, everyone has a book. Even God.” The books write themselves, in a wonderful bit of LIFE HAPPENS. Billie explains. “After God made the world…he wanted more. But he needed to create a perfect harmony. A swiss watch so this world could keep tick tick ticking in his absence.” Chuck built himself into the framework of reality. The Winchesters and Jack are in Chuck’s book. “This is your destiny. You are the messengers of God’s destruction.”
Back at Radio Shed, Chuck watches his worlds get torn to shreds by horrible weather events and war. The hapless Radio Shed employee Chuck chained to his service looks exhausted, worn to shreds from serving the capricious god. (Definitely no symbolism HERE, nope.) He’s confident that Chuck will spare his planet. Right? RIGHT?
“Everything’s just fine,” Chuck reassures him before leaving the Radio Shed. As he strolls from the shop, he tosses his empty cup aside as meteors streak in to destroy the planet.
That’s Win-Quotester Dumb:
It’s monologue time
Sir, this is a Radio Shed
You’ve got four of the same color connected so…given the name of the game I assume that means you won
One little measly life on the line and you’re willing to risk it all? That’s not just dumb. That’s Winchester dumb
Disobeying cosmic entities…doing the dumb, right thing…feels like we’re back
How’s it feel to be back? [silence] Good talk
Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!
#spn recap#spn 15x12#galaxy brain#dean winchester#Sam Winchester#castiel#cas#jack kline#billie#chuck shurley#kaia nieves#jody mills#supernatural season 15
60 notes
·
View notes
Text
“One-Love”
--> Summary: Love translates to zero in the tennis scoring system – the only thing keeping the scoreless player on the court is his love for the game.
--> Pairings: jung hoseok x female reader; kim seokjin x female reader
--> Genre/warnings: tennis player hoseok! au; tennis player seokjin! au; crazy rich asians inspired! au; fluff, humor (as usual), eventual smut; more warnings as the story progresses
--> Words: 2.2k
--> A/N: AAAAAAHHHHH this story really hits home and is inspired by true life events,,, please tell me whatcha think <3 I'll try to update this next week too!!
“One-Love” MASTERLIST
Chapter 1: The First Day
You continue to gawk at all the cars lined along the driveway and those parked in an open area nearby. Each vehicle seemed costlier than the last and… was that a Bentley?! People drive Bentleys to school? You’ve lost count of how many other luxurious cars you have passed by as you watch the other kids get out of their customized vans while their chauffeurs hold the doors open.
These people were rich, rich. In big, bold letters.
Sure, it was a different feeling when you first visited the school a month ago – when no one else was here. Now that you see students in specks of blue, identical to the uniform you’re wearing right now, you suddenly feel out of place. A simple girl from a small town, you, _______, officially a Thames International student? Doesn’t exactly have a nice ring to it.
You shrunk in your seat. How were you supposed to fit in with these people? Truthfully, the only thing that reassured you when you migrated was that you got to study in an international school specially in a country whose language was far from yours and barely spoke any English but the sheer grandness of this school afforded you the least solace.
Your dad speaks up when he notices you’re awfully quiet beside him. “You okay, kiddo?” You give him a small nod in reply and he gives you a short rub on the back to soothe you. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure there are plenty of nice kids inside,” he assures you, yet you still feel that glint of worry laced in his voice.
How exactly did you end up here again?
Your father had been a tennis coach for the longest time. Life used to be okay, but with the arrival of your younger brother, who’s eleven years younger than you, things were harder to get by. You love your little brother to bits though, no doubt.
With a decreasing number of students wanting to learn tennis with each passing year and your mother giving up her career to take care of Carl, your brother, some sacrifices had to be made. Your family moved a lot (this wasn’t new to you then, the only difference this time was that you moved to a different country) which only meant you transferred schools a lot of time too. Your father made enough for your family to get by every day.
One day, a good friend from his golden days came to visit your father along with the chance to work as an instructor in an international school. Your dad couldn’t pass up the opportunity. He had left a month after he had finalized his work papers. Two years later, he got to petition the whole family to come live with him and that’s how you ended up at Thames International.
One of the many perks that came with being an instructor was that he could have one child study for free at the school, provided that he won’t be having a basic salary like the regular employees but he was given a daily allowance, and he earned extra money from private lessons with the students.
Hence, here you are, sitting in the passenger seat of your family’s Honda CR-V, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the European cars you’ve passed so far.
You weren’t born into wealth and you are not nearly a hundredth of how much worth these people probably are, but it makes you all the more proud that you’re here right now, just a simple girl from a small town probably ten thousand miles from here and yet your breathing the same air as they are, you’re in the same uniform as they are, and you are just as human as they are.
Truth be told, your father was more concerned about the sudden change in environment you had to cope with. It’s only been a couple of weeks since your family has migrated; there were a few cultural differences that had to be adjusted to, you’re also learning a few phrases here and there to get by your daily living, and now you’re going to be attending a school that not one of you even dared to dream of. To say that he was worried was an understatement.
Back home, your parents had enough to send you and you brother to a private school but Thames International was clearly on a different level. The richest kid you knew in school owned a restaurant. Here at Thames though, you recall your father mentioning that these kids have parents who own and run multinational corporations – so much for a teensy restaurant.
Your dad parks by the tennis court and you give him a quick kiss on the cheek as you head off to the main building with only twenty minutes left before classes start. Although you’ve already had a school tour when you registered your classes, there’s a completely different feel now that the hallways are packed with students.
The school’s corridors seem narrower than usual with students loitering the hallways, talking about their summer vacations. The floor has been polished so well you reckon that a few more waxing will have you staring at your own reflection when you look down. You thought hallways like these only existed in movies, except this one is way better.
There’s a faint chattering as you near the classroom and you take a deep breath before entering through the back door. This is it. When you step in, silence breaks throughout the room and you’re suddenly all too aware of the small squeaks of your sneakers against the polished floor.
Some kids stared at you while the others went on with their own businesses. Fortunately for you, the awkward air didn’t last for long. You take a seat near the back, setting your bag and taking out your binder. A boy with bowl-cut hair approaches you from the front.
“You must be new here,” he starts with an achingly wide smile and his head out for you to shake. “The name’s Jimin. Jimin Park.” You reply with your name as your hand reaches out to return the gesture.
Jimin then proceeds to point out each of the other students’ names and informs you that he’s been elected class president for the school year and wants to make sure that every student, new or old, settles in nicely.
“Like he’s been for the past seven years!” Another guy butts in from the same row where Jimin came from and the rest of the class snickers at the comment.
“Don’t mind Mark, he’s just pissed he had to spend his summer here instead of the skiing trip to Switzerland he’d been talking about non-stop last year,” Jimin shoots back while the class goes into a series of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ at his remark.
-
“So how was your first day?” your dad takes a seat beside you, removing his cap momentarily to fix his hair underneath. Your first day at Thames went…unexpectedly well. After Jimin introduced himself earlier this morning, the other kids briefly greeted you before your first period started. You had also met Nadia who was thankfully in the same year as you so you shared plenty of classes together.
She had filled you out most of the students complete with family backgrounds, who was dating who, who used to date who, the friend groups. She had also given you a brief tour of the school, definitely more animated this time compared to the monotonous lady who gave you a tour a month ago during registration.
“There’s so much to tell! And I think I’ve made a new friend today.” He smiles at that, relieved that your first day went better than what he’d expected. You continue to tie your shoes on when you see a boy come down from a sleek, black, BMW van, clad in an all-white tennis ensemble, accompanied by a duffel bag on one shoulder and a tennis bag on the other.
Any stranger passing by would’ve mistaken this guy for a professional athlete – complete gear and an outfit to match, however, you recognize the boy, Hoseok Jung, the numerical genius from your Math class. You recall earlier how a seatmate jokingly asked the unsuspecting boy what was the product of 351 and 624 and the latter responded with the correct answer within ten seconds. How he managed to answer that quickly though was beyond you.
However intimidating at first, Hoseok’s athletic aura comes to a quick end as he misses the small gap between the pavement and the court, and almost falls on his knees if he didn’t grab onto the metal fence surrounding the area. Your father sends you a glare from beside you when you fail to hide the snicker that falls from your lips. This day was bound to get interesting.
Once Hoseok has settled down his stuff on a bench, your dad calls him over and introduces you to each other, which was more of a few nods exchanged and in a blink your dad sends you off to the other court to let you warm up on your own. Turns out, the boy has never even touched a racket before, let alone know a single fact about the sport. Hence, your dad had to start from the basics – proper warm-up, the racket and its grip, the rules of the game, and the lines of the court.
You take a break from your warm-ups just as Hoseok starts to head to the court to start practicing so you take a seat on a chair across the court they were staying at. “Okay Hoseok, we’re going to start trying to hit the balls now,” your dad says from across the net and Hoseok gets into position, swinging his racket gently as he stands on the service line opposite your father.
Your dad then throws a ball in his direction, and as Hoseok swings his racket backwards but completely misses the ball as he lets go of the racket. He mutters an apology as he picks up the forlorn instrument. Your dad waves it off, reassuring Hoseok that it was normal for first-timers.
“One more time then.” Your dad throws another ball, Hoseok thankfully hits it this time but now with too much power that he sends the ball flying straight to your father’s head. Your father being the charismatic person that he is, pretends to lose balance and stutters backwards, slapstick comedy at its peak.
Unable to control your amusement as well, you laugh along with the two, glad that Hoseok isn’t the type of person to dwell on embarrassing moments like these. When a few more students arrive for their lessons, your dad tells you both to take a break first so you both head to the water dispenser right outside the court.
The two of you walk in comfortable silence, passing beyond the lines of the courts so as not to disturb the other players. “So, tennis huh? I never thought you’d be one to play the sport.”
“Are you implying I don’t look athletic?” Hoseok asks, holding out the chain fence open for you to get out first. “N-no! Absolutely not! I just- I…” You’re at a loss for words, worried that you might have offended him and moreover, lose a student with potential.
He laughs loudly at your unnecessary worry, assuring you that no offense was taken. You can’t help the smile that etches in your face when you hear his laugh. There is something infectious about how he laughs – pearly whites on full display, his eyes turn into tiny crescent moons as he throws his head back, and the way he claps excitedly all the while.
“Mom thought it would be nice to stretch my limbs more, as if waking up in the morning isn’t enough strain for my muscles…” he sighs dramatically. “Anyways, I’ve been passing by the courts since last year because our driver started parking there. One day, while I was walking by, there was this one guy who was playing, I think his name was Andrew, and he looked so cool hitting the balls like ‘peeeuw’ and then ‘paaang’ and his opponent was hitting it back just as strong. Plus, I used to watch Prince of Tennis so…” You’ve never seen anyone so… for lack of better words, animatedly bright.
This boy could easily render the sun jobless with his charisma and energy.
The short water break ends quicker than you’d expected, your father calling you both to the court so that you could practice together. Much to your dismay though, the rest of the lesson goes by pretty quickly with Hoseok’s determination to learn the sport.
Your dad sees Hoseok’s van around the corner and decides that tennis is over for today. “Hoseok, your driver’s waiting for you.” He looks up from a corner with a frown, still trying to figure out how to pick up balls by slotting it between your shoe and your racket. “Can’t I skip my violin lessons just this once?” He calls out to the chauffeur and the latter shrugs, not wanting to tempt the kid.
Hoseok drags his feet towards the bench, your dad chuckling when he sees the forlorn expression on the boy’s usually bright facial features. “Ah, don’t worry kid, we’ll see each other again on Wednesday.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow too Hoseok!” you add, waving your goodbye.
“You can call me Hobi,” he replies with a smile. ‘I’m looking forward to see you too tomorrow.’
#hyunglinenetwork#btswritersnet#bts fic#jung hoseok#kim seokjin#hoseok x reader#seokjin x reader#hoseok fluff#bts athlete au
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Scorpia/Adora Coffeeshop AU for @blackbyakko for the @sherawintergiftexchange!
it’s very cheesy and rushed, but hope you like it!
paring: Scorpia/Adora
rating: G
length: 2.1k words
- - -
For my best friend Entrapta! Good luck on ur robot! (^ ᴗ ^)/
Since her first day working at the cafe, Scorpia has always written kind and encouraging messages onto every single customer’s cup. Sure, her coworkers complain about not being to find the name quickly enough when it’s time to call it out. And sure, sometimes the queue of customers get irritated by the longer wait...
But it’s fun! And it keeps people happy! It’s part of the reason why Scorpia loves her job. It makes the coffee shop feel more like family, rather than business.
For some quirky reason, Entrapta insists on her espresso being served in the smallest sample-sized paper cup that’s available. It’s made it difficult for Scorpia to write out her message on it. Her hands aren’t exactly danity, and neither is her penmanship.
(These meaty claws were meant for sweet sweet loving, not for writing tiny tiny letters.)
The bulky, fluffy letters cover almost the entire surface area of the cup. The emoji at the end barely makes the cut, but she manages to squeeze it in.
“Another mini espresso, coming right up!” Scorpia says, setting the cup down at the end of the line of pending orders. “Hey, uh, Entrapta… Do you think you should slow down a bit?”
It’s the tenth coffee in a row that her eccentric pig-tailed friend has bought, and Scorpia is starting to worry about her caffeine intake… Can baristas start cutting people off? Or is that only a thing for bartenders?
“What? And waste my precious time unconscious when I could be working? Never!” Entrapta proclaims when the notion of “slowing down” is suggested to her. She’s practically vibrating.
Scorpia sighs.
After Entrapta goes to wait for her drink, Scorpia takes the next customer’s order-- but she notices that her trusty marker is almost out of ink. Man, this things really go quick-- this is the third one this month!
“Mermista! Do you know where we keep the markers?” Scorpia calls out to the other side of the bar.
Her less enthusiastic coworker groans in response. “You do know that we’re getting paid minimum wage, right?”
Just as Scorpia is about to remind her about the importance of kindness and customer service. Mermista holds up her hands and says, “Hold up, forget I asked. I’m clocking out in two minutes.”
“Already? I thought you were working until closing with me!”
“Oh, right. You don’t know yet,” Mermista realizes. “We have a new girl. She started yesterday, and she’s taking over the rest of this shift.”
Scorpia’s eyes light up. A new coworker! This could be a new friendship opportunity! Not that Mermista isn’t great, but sometimes she can be a bummer when working. The Etheria Coffee Co family could stand to gain another member who has the same passion for the art of barista-ing that Scorpia has!
Right on cue, another person comes in from the back room. She greets them joyfully, “Hi!”
Immediately, Scorpia’s excitement turns into huge disappointment.
Really? Really???
Of all the eligible working young women in this town, they just had to pick the most irritating person to ever exist, with the most obnoxious personality and the most ridiculous forehead-enlarging hair poof.
They make eye contact, Scorpia’s sharp glare battling against Adora’s wide-eyed surprise, and the two buff baristas say in union--
“Oh.”
/ / / / /
“Two non-fat peppermint mochas, a sixteen-ounce americano, a salted caramel latte, and a orange-mango-agave smoothie are on the bar!”
It’s been a week, and Adora is absolutely insufferable.
She somehow manages to make six drinks simultaneously, putting together even the most complex drink orders as if she’s made them all a million times before. It’s like she’s some kind of latte-making superhuman!
Of course, she’s great at the job. Why wouldn’t she be great at everything she does?!?! Grrr.
She even convinced Entrapta to drink decaf coffee for a while instead, telling her that it’s a missed opportunity to experiment with placebo effects of caffeine. Why didn’t Scorpia think of that?!
But the worst part?? Despite the fact that Scorpia has been working at the shop for two months, Adora keeps asking her if she needs help with something. It’s like she’s always looking for a reason to swoop in and play the hero, like someone needs her to save the day from coffee shop mayhem. It’s infuriating!
And no, it has absolutely nothing to do with the Catra situation, thank you very much. Scorpia is irritated by all of this for completely unrelated reasons! Adora is a terrible coworker! That is the one and only explanation.
“Phew! I’m glad the place is finally starting to slow down! How’s it going over there, Scorpia?” Adora asks.
When Scorpia doesn’t reply, Adora looks over at her, and she becomes concerned at the completely crushed cup in Scorpia’s clenched fist. “Er… Scorpia? Do you want to take a break? I can handle it from here.
Oh here we go again. Scorpia doesn’t need Adora acting like she’s better than her all of the time! She is the furthest thing from a damsel in distress. And after the past week of having to tolerate all of this, Scorpia can’t take it anymore!
“Alright, alright! We GET it, Adora! You can handle it! You can handle everything! Well, I, for one, don’t need your help!” Scorpia snaps, too loudly.
“What? I’m just trying to be nice!”
“... W-o-w.” Mermista’s draws out her monotone reaction as she pokes her head in from the back room. “So can both of you, like, stop being weird and help me lift some of these boxes?”
Adora and Scorpia glare at each other, but-- now that it’s incredibly awkward and uncomfortable-- they silently agree to move on. For now.
They follow Mermista to the back storage closet, where she directs them to a tall stack of boxes to carry out. They’re small but surprisingly hefty. Nevertheless, Scorpia lifts one onto her shoulder with ease.
Adora picks up two.
So, naturally, Scorpia picks up three more.
Yes, in fact, this just became a weight-lifting competition.
They keep at it for a bit, stubbornly matching the number of boxes that the other person is carrying until they’re huffing and wobbling around. But there’s no way Scorpia is backing out now! This is easy-peasy. The sweat on her forehead means absolutely nothing, except that maybe the air conditioner stopped working.
“Can you hold the door open for us?” Adora asks Mermista, her voice strained.
“Nope,” Mermista answers, swiftly closing the door.
“Uh,” Adora says.
“Um,” Scorpia echoes.
They give each other confused side-glances.
“Neither of you are leaving this closet until you learn how to at least pretend to like each other,” Mermista says calmly from the other side, followed by the sound of the door being locked. “I do not get paid enough to listen to you argue all the time.”
Adora sets down her boxes-- (phew, game over! Scorpia wins)-- and goes to jiggle the doorknob. “Mermista, this isn’t funny! Open the door!”
No response.
She lets out a groan and turns to Scorpia. “What was that all about, anyways?”
The totally-innocently-and-not-petty-at-all barista shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You blew up at me for no reason!”
“I had a reason! Many reasons.”
“Like what?”
“Like... I just… I don’t need you coming here and beat me at this, too!”
Adora pauses for a moment. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know,” Scorpia mutters. “It’s not the first time I’ve had to compete with you...”
So Adora asks the big question, “Is this... about Catra?”
“No!!! I mean, sort of! But not really! I just… ugh...” Scorpia sinks to the ground, cupping the sides of her face with her hands. “I’m over all of that-- really!’
Well, guess it’s out there now. If she dies in this cafe storage room, it might as well be with an honest heart.
Although things didn’t work out between her and Catra, she really is over it!
What she’s not over is how jealous Adora made her feel. Even if Catra and Adora are only friends, it didn’t feel great to be compared to someone... even if she herself was the one doing the comparison.
Scorpia tries to explain, “It’s more like... I don’t like being reminded that you’re better than me, ok? I know that it’s not a competition, but for some reason, I still feel like I’m always competing with you!”
Adora stays silent, unsure of what to say.
“You’re really amazing,” Scorpia admits. Her cheeks redden. “I know you are, but you don’t have to rub it in…”
After a few moments of sitting in the awkward silence, Adora crouches down with her. “If we’re being honest… I think you’re more amazing than I could ever be.”
“What? Really?”
“Yeah, I do!” Adora insists. “I know we haven’t gotten along after the drama with Catra happened, but... I think you’re a good person! You’re strong, you’re loyal, and you genuinely care about people… You do kind things because you want to, not because anyone expects you to! I don’t even know if I can say the same for me...“
“Oh, uh…” Scorpia wasn’t expecting this. If she hadn’t been blushing already, she definitely was now. After all, Adora’s an honest person. She wouldn’t have said all of that if she didn’t mean it.
“It’s never been a competition,” Adora assures her.
Scorpia lets out a slow, shaky laugh. “... Ok, I might have been letting the past get to me. I shouldn’t take it out on you. I’ll get over it, I promise!”
Adora smiles at her. “Sooo does this mean that we’re friends now? Or at least friendly coworkers?”
“At least friendly coworkers,” Scorpia agrees with a grin.
Adora stands up, offering her hand to help Scorpia up as well. “Now let’s get out of here!”
She helps Scorpia up knocks on the door again.
… Still no response. Uh oh.
“Uh… Mermista?” Adora calls out.
Scorpia wonders, “It was almost closing time when we came back here… She wouldn’t leave us in here overnight, would she?”
Oh no… she totally would. Scorpia can’t die in a coffee storage closet! She had so many plans! Who is going to water her plants? Who is going to inherit her motorcycle? Who will take over the duty of writing her signature coffee cup messages???
“I’m going to break the door down,” Adora announces.
“Wait, I don’t know if that’s the best idea--” Scorpia beings to tell her, but Adora is already preparing to throw herself at the door.
With a mighty battle cry, Adora rushes towards the door, shoulder braced for impact-- but just before she hits the wood, the door swings open to the other side.
“Whoa there!” Scorpia lunges forward to catch Adora before she falls onto the floor. Who’s the hero now, huh?
“Two things,” Mermista says.
“One, you’re not supposed to use your shoulder; you’re supposed to kick. You would know this already if you read Mer-mystery: The Vanishing Clownfish, like I told you to many many times.
“Two, I am not getting my pay docked because two idiots broke the door.”
/ / / / /
It’s been a month, and work has been great! Once Scorpia let go of her gay pettiness, she and Adora have been getting along really well. She can’t believe that she used to hate her!
That isn’t to say that Adora doesn’t have her annoying moments-- she does-- but Scorpia feels like she’s learned a lot more about her. Once Adora gets more comfortable, she actually has a very silly, fun side.
Like she does this really cute thing where she puts weird emphasis on some of the drink orders when she calls them out, like frapPUcciNO-- wait, cute? Uh. Scorpia meant funny. Funny and not adorable at all.
Oh no. Not again.
Scorpia is finishing up a latte and sorting out her thoughts, when she notices Adora walking in through the front door.
“Oh, hey, Adora! Are you working today?”
“Hey, Scorpia! Ah, about that…” Adora says, “I came here to tell you that I’m quitting.”
“Aw, man… Really?”
“I got a promotion at my other job,” Adora explains. “They gave me a lot more hours, so I don’t have enough time to work this one, too...”
“I didn’t even know you had another job!” Scorpia gawks. She hopes that Adora hadn’t been overworking herself this entire time. “But... congratulations!”
“Thanks! So... we can still be friends, right?”
“Of course!” Scorpia affirms.
She’s happy for Adora, but she can also feel her heart sinking. A few weeks ago, she wished that Adora would quit-- but now... it’s heartbreaking. Talk about a one-eighty. She and Adora had the start of a beautiful friendship going on, and it sucks that it might come to an end.
And now, after realizing how much she’s going to miss all of the time she’s spent with Adora...
Scorpia also realizes something important.
“... Can I get you some coffee?” she asks Adora. “On the house!”
Adora grins back. “Sure!”
Alright. Here is it. Possibly the most important coffee cup message that she has ever written in her entire life! Gotta make it good!
Her heart is pounding, and she writes out:
For Adora, the best coworker I’ve ever had! (Don’t tell Mermista! )
(Also, want to go on a d hang ou maybe if you’re at all interested we could go out sometime? Together?)
<3
54 notes
·
View notes
Text
Losses and Gains - pt. 2
tommy x reader
summary: Tommy Shelby got your brother killed and ruined your life, and now you’re out for revenge
a/n: 2 parts in one week? who am i (someone procrastinating doing philosophy reading)
part one
-
Nine days later, you found yourself once again wearing the same black dress you’d worn to your father’s funeral. It still fit well, though you’d grown from a teenager into a young woman since you’d worn it last. It was knee-length and simple, with long lace sleeves and a lace collar, and you had a black wool coat which had needed a button replacing and a pocket repairing over it. Your dark curls were twisted up at the nape of your neck, but you didn't have a hat to put over them.
The Shelby Company had arranged the funeral before you’d been able to, a message arriving through your door the day after Tommy had visited with the date and time of the ceremony at the same church where your parents were buried. You had visited the priest to try to cancel the arrangements, to rid yourself of any Shelby involvement, but he’d told you that he had no other availability for the rest of the month. Some part of you had breathed a sigh of relief, knowing you didn't have the money for the ceremony anyway.
You crossed the landing from your bedroom to Jack’s. His room was simply furnished, but there were touches of him everywhere. His boots were still stood in front of the dresser waiting. A blanket knitted by your mother rested at the foot of his bed. A book you’d tried to make him read was waiting on his bedside table. You tried to find comfort in the sight of everything the same as it always was, but it just made the hole in your chest seem deeper. He would never have use for these things again.
You were the only one at the funeral service, as you’d expected. You had no family left now, and it seemed that all the friends from work Jack spoke about were in fact employed by the Peaky Blinders. You were at least relieved that Tommy had kept his word and kept them away. The words the Priest was speaking meant little to you, passing you by as you found your eyes fixed on the hole in the ground were Jack would rest, next to the neat rectangular stones marking out your parents’. At least they were all together again. The Priest had asked if you wanted to say any words about your brother, but it seemed pointless when you were the only one there, so you thought them to yourself instead.
Your hand shook as you dropped the handful of soil down into the dark. Nothing had ever felt so wrong. The priest’s parting words drifted past your ears. You felt yourself nod in reply to a question you hadn't heard, and then he took your hand and patted it gently before following the path back towards the church. Your legs carried you in the opposite direction, up the hill and deeper into the graveyard. On the crest of the hill was a man, facing away from you to look over the rows of houses sprawling out below. He turned at the sound of your feet crunching on the gravel path.
‘Miss Prescott,’ he said in greeting. You wondered how long he’d been stood there.
‘Mr Shelby.’ You almost managed to keep your annoyance out of your voice.
‘I came to give my condolences,’ he explained.
‘I thought I said I didn't want you here.’ You crossed your arms over your chest. The wind was picking up, whipping round your legs.
‘I believe you said that my men couldn't be here. They were very sad about that, you know. Your brother was a very well-liked man.’ You shook your head. You wouldn't feel bad about the men who had caused your brother’s death.
‘They’re welcome to pay their respects in their own time.’ Tommy nodded. He looked back out towards the city, watching the smoke rising from the chimneys of Digbeth in the distance.
‘Was it better to be alone at a funeral than to let his friends be there to get back at me?’ The bluntness of his words jolted you.
‘I’d rather be alone than be with the people who caused his death. And besides, my parents are right there next to him. Not everything is about you, Mr Shelby.’ He didn't reply, and when you looked at him you discovered that he was laughing silently.
‘You’re right. I’m sorry,’ he admitted. ‘Will you walk with me?’ You nodded begrudgingly, having nothing else to do except go home to the feeling of emptiness that settled in whenever you were alone. The pair of you followed the path around the edge of the graveyard. Tommy pulled out a silver cigarette case and placed one between his lips before offering it to you. You took one and accepted the light that followed, breathing the smoke in deeply.
‘How have you been?’ Tommy asked, smoke trickling from his lips and catching in the wind. You sighed, unsure of how to reply.
‘I don’t know. I don’t know what to do with myself now that Jack’s gone.’
‘Do you have work?’ You couldn't tell if Tommy sounded concerned or not, but there was a kind of interest in his voice.
‘I’ve taken a job as a seamstress,’ you explained. It was something you’d done before, as a favour for neighbours, but finding customers was difficult. Not many in Small Heath had the money spare to pay for new clothes, so most of your jobs were small repairs. You had been working all day and into the night to keep yourself fed. You glanced at your hand holding the cigarette, which had become red-raw and pin-pricked and noticed Tommy looking too. You let it drop to your side.
‘My offer still stands. The company can help you get back on your feet if you need it.’ While his voice didn't sound pitying, you still hated the idea of having to rely on the men who had got your brother killed.
‘I’m fine, thank you,’ you said shortly. He didn't try to convince you. You had rounded the church, arriving back at the gate. An expensive black car was waiting on the pavement on the other side.
‘Can I drive you home?’ You wanted to say no, to be rid of him for good, but then you thought about the hour’s walk back to your house in the cold.
‘Yes, alright,’ you said reluctantly.
The car ride was almost silent, you refusing to make small talk with Tommy and him being seemingly uninterested anyway. You couldn't help but notice that people were watching as you drove by, probably recognising Tommy’s car as the only one of its kind to ever be in this neighbourhood. Some of them craned their necks to look at you too. When the car pulled up outside your house, Tommy cleared his throat and dug into his pocket, pulling out an envelope.
‘This is your brother’s last pay cheque,’ he said, handing it to you. You glanced suspiciously at Tommy, slipping you finger under the paper seal. You let out a dry laugh when you saw the contents.
‘I think this is a bit more than a month’s pay,’ you said, rifling through the stack of notes tucked inside. It was at least six times that.
‘He had a lot of unpaid overtime.’ The excuse was smooth, but you weren't convinced.
‘I don’t want your charity.’ You held the envelope out. Tommy wouldn't take it.
‘At least take a month’s worth. Please,’ he said. ‘Your brother earned it. It’s yours.’ Your hand faltered. You thought about the rent money due at the end of the week, and the much smaller pile of notes you had saved. Your fingers dipped into the envelope and pulled out a couple, tucking them into your coat pocket.
‘Goodbye, Mr Shelby,’ you said, placing the envelope firmly onto the seat as you stepped out of the car.
‘Bye, Miss Prescott,’ Tommy replied wearily. You didn't look back as you walked up to the door, hearing the engine sputter back to life as you shut it behind you.
#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders fanfiction#tommy shelby fanfic#tommy x reader#mine#peaky blinders imagine#tommy shelby#peaky blinders
41 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rant and rambles incoming about the bull crap going on at work because this is eating me up.
So I wound up calling in sick to work for Tuesday and my boss told me to maybe just take the week off, as “your head’s not here.” And honestly... no, it’s not. I spent the entirety of Monday livid as all hell because the flight chief (or our squadron commander, I’m not sure whose idea it was exactly) decided to ask the facility managers 1) who owns a sewing machine and 2) who knows how to sew. My boss responded that we have two and that she knows how to sew.
When I get in in the morning, she poses the question to us about if we know how to sew, or are willing to learn. I know a little but said I would not be willing to learn if it was for the flight chief. My co-worker refused and said she would only do it under duress.
A little back story on what’s been going on and why I am (and my co-workers are) so upset:
I work at an Arts and Crafts store on an American military base. We’re considered non-essential and if you look at the base’s page on facility closures, ours is listed as closed with “minimal manning” and curb-side pick up options available (please tell me what is considered “minimal manning” when all of us are still reporting to work).
The week of March 16th we were told we were going to be shut down for at least 2 weeks starting on that Thursday, the 19th, until further notice and people that can work from home are encouraged to do so. Great, the base and leadership are taking this seriously, I had thought. It’s worth noting that all of my coworkers are in the high risk group.
However. Come Monday, the 23rd, I get a call from my boss that we’re to come back in. The flight chief wants us to clean and reorganize the facility (something that had been discussed prior to everything going down, that involved closing the facility but hey, we’re closed now, so why not use this opportunity to do so?). Yeah, okay, that’s fine. I’m not happy but whatever. So we all go in and we’re working and it’s not easy stuff--I’m moving cabinets and shelving units, doing the majority of the heavy lifting because I’m pretty much the only one able to do so. It’s tiring work and I’m dead sore by Wednesday morning but it’s fine, nothing I’m not used to. What throws a wrench into this is that the flight chief suddenly comes up with this thought Oh, why don’t you guys put together crafting kits to give away to families? He wants them to last for about an hour each day and to cover two weeks. He wants 50 by Friday (and we were told this on... Tuesday or Wednesday. Not a lot of time to prepare). Alright, cool. We can do that... So we go through our crafts and come up with this stuff and start putting packets together. But guess what? He comes back with, can you make an additional 50? And then another 50? and another 50? That was 4 sets of 50 (but wound up being 48 each), and he even tried to get us to do an additional 50 on top of that but my boss had to tell him we don’t have anything to put more together because they all had to be the SAME. So it boiled down to a total of 384 bags we put together.
And all throughout this week he and the marketing manager kept coming to the facility and “checking in”. They try to talk to us, all while ignoring the whole keeping your distance from people, while we’re in the middle of tasks and trying to get all this shit done when it’s pretty much just two people (our engraver was stuck at her laser making one craft and my boss would have to deal with them). We’d have some volunteers come over but they’d only be around for a couple hours, if they even showed up, and they weren’t very inclined to listen to direction from anyone other than my boss.
I’m not one to sit around and chit chat, especially not when I have work to do. So I would greet them and then leave. Same with my other coworkers. But the flight chief? Guess what. :) After one visit, he texted my boss telling her to call him from her office, where he then proceeded to say my coworkers and I have horrible customer service and that he was embarrassed by how he and the marketing manager were treated: that we ignored them and kept running away and that we need to be showing only the highest level of service to everyone. He then proceeded to tell her that she needs to give us all customer service training. You know, because we’re so fucking terrible. I’m sorry? You are over here working us to the bone and piling more and more stuff on us and you expect us to have the time and energy to expend on idle chatter? Especially considering the state of affairs in the world? No.
Never mind the fact that they wound up roping our crafting kit thing into a marketing event without telling us about it at all. We had to find out by reading the e-mail that was sent out to everyone. And oh, the flight chief and the marketing director had agreed with my boss not to do reservations for these kits but guess what? In the e-mail it said to call and reserve yours. That wound up tying my boss on the line for at least a solid hour and a half. And the trouble with reservations is that people will inevitably reserve something and not show up. Which is exactly what happened.
So that was a week from hell. But I was off the following week, Monday-Wednesday, as I had requested time off months prior. I was sent home on Thursday, into Friday, due to not feeling well, so I didn’t work that week. That brings us back to Monday.
Turns out whoever decided that we will be making masks for the Wing. My boss put one together following the CDC’s guidelines, which the flight chief wound up taking (and giving away). Upon the return of the flight chief and the marketing manager about an hour later, they start discussing it and asked how many could be made in an hour. Going by my boss’s speed, she said probably 6, maybe 8 in an hour. So of course they latched on to the 8 (the flight chief tried to push for 10 in an hour). The flight chief stepped aside at some point to talk to the commander and she said she wanted the masks made with pleats, “so there were more layers to catch stuff.” Except... those pleats are meant for the mask to expand for coverage, not to “catch stuff”. Whatever. Americans don’t really understand the whole face mask thing.
So they start spit-balling numbers and asking about production of a pleated version versus a non-pleated version and somehow 100 masks turns into 1,000 in 10 days and from the way they were talking it sounded as if they were assuming all of us would be sewing these masks at a rate of 8 per hour... on top of them wanting us to make an additional 4 weeks of crafting kits and still cleaning/reorganizing the facility.
So. Cue me having a mental break because first of all, we shouldn’t even be reporting to work. Only mission essential/critical people are supposed to be working; we aren’t either category. We were called back after being told we’d be off, only for us to be tossed into a hellish workload that just seems to be ever increasing and I just cannot get behind this. And sewing masks? Putting together kits and uploading the tutorials for them? That can easily be done from home. But from the way they were talking on Monday it seems as if the flight chief and the marketing manager (I don’t know why she’s always there, I really don’t) do not support the idea of working from home.
I came to the realization Monday night that all these ailments I’ve been dealing with lately are physical manifestations of stress and I just can’t handle the situation at work. When my boss texted me about staying home this week, I asked if they’d be alright at work and she replied with “who knows” and on the one hand great, I’m not dealing with the stress at work but on the other, I’m leaving my coworkers to pickup my slack, thus making me feel like shit regardless. But I honestly... I can’t handle this situation; it doesn’t seem right and it feels like leadership doesn’t care about the well-being of us “little people”. Sure they come over and tout praises and flowery words but do any of them offer to help with all the hard work? Of course not. But “We’re all tired,” they had said.
Spare me.
So. Yeah. That’s where I’m at and I’m honestly... not sure what to do. My sister’s been giving me advice and telling me to seek guidance from HR but... no one else seems to want to speak out for fear of retaliation. And I just. I can’t keep doing this.
#Red Rambles#Life Update#There's also the fact that this guy has forced my dad out of his job#There have been things going on for MONTHS#Honestly it's more like the entirety of last year#Things have not been well for a long time and I've reached a breaking point#I don't feel like I can handle things anymore#I want to help at work but I can't handle all this stress#I can't look at that guy's face without getting so incredibly ANGRY
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Black Mamba | Chapter 3
Pairings: Reader x Mark Lee, Reader x Hendery, Reader x Jaehyun, feat. ot21
Genre: NCT mafia!au, angst, fluff, light smut (suggestive), comical
Warnings: Swearing, A LOT of flashbacks, passive-aggressiveness
Words: 3.045k
【 ❶ ❷ ➂ ❹ ❺ ❻ ❼】
Chapter 3 - Moving On
Seoul, Korea, a week after Valentine’s Day 2023
One week. One week since your heartbroken, one week since you’ve lost your love and heart to a man full of shit. You had never stepped foot into Mark’s bedroom since and have taken off your necklace you had kept on for three years was now in a box in your bedside dresser locked away forever. You both never talked with each other since that night and kept it strictly professional.
You focused on your work and have helped succeed almost 80% of the missions since last week. You also found yourself accepting more assassination missions wanting to get out of the mansion. You also got closer to Hendery, and it would not have been a shock to see that Mark took notice to that. He always gazed at you looking at you laughing over something Hendery said or when you let him come into the lab with you to look at what you were working on. He became a really close friend to you since that night.
You came back from an assassination, riding on your motorbike with your helmet on. You rode into the garage and took off your helmet and walked into the mansion and you heard the voice of the guys from the main entrance looking through the windows.
“Who is that?”
“She’s pretty.”
“I wonder when he broke the news to her.”
“Bet Mark bought her that necklace.”
“Ha, I bet he bought her everything she is wearing.”
You immediately knew who they were talking about, a/n (any name). Mark finally decided to bring her to the mansion and show her what he really does for work. You are going to assume its some spoiled brat who only wants Mark for money and his dick. You put your helmet down along with the others in your closet and started to walk down to greet whoever this a/n is. All the guys and Mark immediately stopped talking when they saw you, hearing the clicking of your boots approaching them. They all moved out of your way, and you made eye contact with Mark and a/n. Mark looked at you in panic and awkwardness, awaiting your reaction. I guess Mark thought you wouldn’t be at the mansion by now and try to sneak her in the mansion without you noticing. You reached out a hand to a/n.
“Hello, I am y/n, nice to meet you.”
“Hi! OMG, I LOVE your outfit.”
“Thank you, I’ve heard so much about you.”
You noticed her necklace, it was the same exact one Mark gave you, same letter engraving, the same pendant that you wore for three years.
“How do you know Mark?”
“Oh, Mark?”
You put an arm around his shoulder and gave him a noogie.
“I’ve known this idiot for four years, we are practically family, right, Mark?”
“y-yeah, family.”
She looked somewhat intimidated by you. You had a perfect, healthy body (all bodies are beautiful :)), friendly with all of the guys, and appeared to be a goddess to her.
“Oh, don’t worry about me, if I were to date anyone of these dumbasses it would be Hendery or Jaehyun.”
Both of their faces immediately lit up, and they started to laugh and hit each other
“Hey! That doesn’t mean I would date you, I would only do so if I were forced to by Mark.”
They both calmed down, and a/n seemed to calm down from her worries.
“Y/n why don’t you take a/n for a tour?” Mark said.
You fake smiled and said
“Sure, I would LOVE to.”
The guys and Mark soon dispersed back to their work while you led her around the entire mansion, explaining where everything is.
“So this the main entrance, obviously with high tech security, and has loaded guns and missiles built into its walls to ensure safety.”
“From what?”
“People trying to kill us.”
“This is the kitchen, living, and dining room, we don’t spend much time in the living or dining room since we are all busy 24/7. We also have a personal, professional chef and maid service for you if you feel like it.”
“So if I want anything I can get it?”
“Yes…”
“The floor below is mainly the garage, which you can’t have access to since you are not allowed to leave without Mark, another member, or a bodyguard.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Whatever,” you thought.
“If you go upstairs, this is the floor where the most work happens, and YOU MUST knock on the door before going in, understood?”
She nodded as you continued.
“If you look out here, you can see our bathhouses inspired by Japanese onsens, and you will go into the women’s side, not the men’s side. You can also see our outdoor and indoor shooting ranges where we train our trainees to shoot. Here on this floor, you will find all of our conference rooms and offices, if you look at the end of the hallway on the right that’s Mark’s office, you can feel free to pop in if you’d like. If you need any help, ask Taeyong, whose office is the last door on the right. If you look left, you will see the weaponry and technology labs, my lab is all the way at the end. However, you are NOT allowed inside.”
“Why not?”
“First, you physically can’t come in, and I don’t want anyone or you knocking on the door thinking you can, it has a facial and fingerprint scanner impossible to hack. Only Mark and I can access or allow anyone in. Second, Mark wants you to be safe, so he wants you to stay away from this lab so you can’t get hurt when we are testing weapons.”
“Aww, he’s so sweet.”
You roll your eyes so hard that you might hurt your skull of how annoying she is.
“This is the third floor, where all of the bedroom quarters are, this is where we all sleep, and you will be sleeping in Mark’s room.”
You walked her to Mark’s room and hesitated to open the door getting flashbacks of that night.
“Um, are you going to open the door?”
“Yeah I was, I was just making sure no one was in there.”
You swung the door open and let her walk around, looking at his room. It smelled just as you remembered, musk, cigarettes, and whiskey. You saw as nothing changed except the picture of you two were replaced by her and presents given by you were nowhere to be found. The one thing you still saw was the wall. The wall he threw you into was slightly dented and would only be noticed if you knew what happened there.
“Alright let’s go” (before you start crying at least)
“Okay!!”
She was WAY too peppy and energetic for your type, you have NO IDEA how Mark found her attractive, heck even started dating this chick. You led her through the rest of the house and eventually ended the tour.
“This concludes the tour any questions?”
“Uhhhh, yeah! What do I get to do!”
“HA, nothing.”
“W-what?”
“Listen, you are here to keep Mark happy, pick up a hobby or something. At least make yourself useful here.”
You left her in the elevator walking to your lab exhausted from talking to her and continued working for the rest of the day. You needed a bath and steam, so you headed to the bathhouses to relax for your tiring day. It was still snowing out, and the contrast of the cold breeze and the hot water and steam made you feel extremely relaxed.
You kept thinking in your thoughts about a/n, and how she magically seduced Mark. You also thought if Mark was really over you, or needed to distract himself. But nonetheless, you hoped Mark was happy since you still cared about him and would always support whatever he does with his life.
That was until you heard a crashing in your bathhouse. You immediately got out and put on your robe with a dagger, a throwing knife, and a gun equipped in your pockets. You held your gun and saw the shadow in the changing room who knocked over all of the buckets and towels. You prepared to protect yourself as you put them into a chokehold with your gun to their head.
“If you move or speak you will die got it?”
“y-y/n it’s just me.”
“What are you doing in here?”
“A/N??? WHAT THE HELL YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME!”
“I-I just came to take a bath.”
“Well, a WARNING could have been nice.”
You calmly removed her from her chokehold and walked back to the outdoor onsen to have some steam and she soon followed shortly. She didn’t get in, but she looked around for a bit.
“What do you do around here?”
“You get in and relax, this is usually the time where I can clear my head, but you decided to come along.”
She then hopped in and sat across from you.
“So, do you like anyone here?”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t know you are surrounded but so many handsome guys, I’m surprised you’re not dating one of them.”
“Why so you can cheat on Mark with one of them?”
“What? No. Never.”
“Well, I’m sorry I’m focused on my work, so I don’t have time for dating.”
“Oh. Have you ever thought about it?”
“No…not any of them are my type.”
You then got out since you’ve been in the onsen bath for too long and felt light-headed.
“BYEEEE I’LL SEE YOU TOMORROW!!!”
You waved and had a cold shower before you left. You felt better after and walked back into the mansion to find Mark reading on the couch, looking like he was waiting for his girlfriend.
“Oh, y/n, I have something for you.”
Mark got up and handed you an envelope with gold lettering with your name on it. You took it and opened if, in front of him, it read “25th Annual Masquerade Ball.” You remembered this ball since you remember your parents attending one every year. Mark was telling you that every member of NCT was required to attend, protect, and enjoy others and themselves.
He told you a fashion designer will come and take your measurements for your custom mask and ball gown. You remembered attending this ball with Mark several times. Even if he was busy, he still promised to give you a dance and never forgot his promise. You have memories of those magical nights, but this is the first time you are going solo. You walked away, but before you entered your room, you heard Mark’s laughing from the living room. You missed that, hearing his laugh and making him smile, it was a bittersweet feeling.
Every morning regardless of the weather, you do a morning run before you work on anything. You wake up really early to go on your run, so you are not disturbed by others in the morning. However, you didn’t realize that someone as looking for you. A/n actually asked a maid where you were. When you returned, she looked at you in awe, after your workout, you looked even more like a Goddess compared to her.
“How was your run?”
“Fine.”
“I was wondering if us girls wanted to hang out today since I have nothing to do here.”
“But unlike you, I have work to do here, so you run along and pick some flowers.”
You walked away with maids holding water, towels, and your change of clothes before heading into the lab. In the lab, your eyes met the invitation again, reminding yourself that the Masquerade Ball is coming up and the fashion designer was coming to see you today. Since you had a fitting around your lunchtime, you decided to design some Masquerade Ball friendly weapons. Gun holsters, knife pockets, tracking devices, earpieces, and night vision lenses. Soon after, you were called for your fitting and walked to the garage, got on your motorbike, and rode off to the fashion designers workshop. You arrived and went up to the top floor to meet a similar face who’s designed all of your outfits to the years prior to the ball.
It felt awkward, but, you kept calm during the entire fitting. While you were doing your fitting, you looked around and saw Mark’s and a/n’s outfit designs on the wall, matching in a beautiful navy blue and gold theme. You never matched Mark at these balls, since you kept your love hidden. The designer decided on a red dress with a golden snake necklace and golden embroidery. He would tell you he would send everyone’s outfits early for you to input any proper equipment or defenses.
It wouldn’t take long, it would just be a quick sew and an add on. You had given him the blueprints of the weapons prior so he can highlight and sew in pockets for special items like poison gas. He showed the masks that fit your special requests and accommodations. They had trackers, analyzers, and night vision mode when you looked through it. They also had an x-ray option to see what weapons the person is currently carrying (only for your mask). They also were secret gas masks and could see through smoke bombs. You soon left your fitting and rode back in peace, knowing that the gala will be left in good hands.
A week later, you were sent everyone’s outfits in a vast array of colors from black to yellow. You equipped everyone’s outfits until you hesitated at Mark’s. It was beautiful, and you knew how good he would look in it. It had golden vines across his navy suit jacket. You looked at a/n’s dress thinking how the dress could have been yours, that if things had worked out differently, you would be wearing this dress. This dress should be your dress, not hers.
You were about to burn the dress when you realized how selfish you were being. It’s Mark’s first time going to a ball with a date, and it’s not like he’s unhappy with her, he smiles all the time around her. You delicately placed her dress down, put a tracking device, dagger, and an alarm system connected to Mark, to know when she’s not within the eyesight of Mark. Your dress, you made sure it could be ripped off for any emergency. The skirt part can rip off and reveal your black pants underneath equipped with everything you needed, guns, knives, bombs, and ammo.
You sent the maids to deliver the suits and dresses to all the NCT members, while trainees were either working or have the night off (depending on how well they did on their tests). You also started talking to Hendery more and more, and now you both became very close friends. Mark did notice this and started to fill up Hendery’s schedule so you couldn’t see him often. You both would eat together, and he would hang out with you in the lab on late nights and bring you tea to keep you working. It would not be surprising if you didn’t say you started to warm up to him, or heck even likes him. He was there for you when you needed it, and you trusted him with your heart.
That night you were tired from all of your work you lied down on your bed and thought about Hendery. You wondered if he felt the same way or even liked you. You remembered when he seems excited when you said you would date him, maybe that’s a sign? You told Hendery all of your worries and concerns, and he was there to listen and comfort you. You two also occasionally had sleepovers in your room, pushing each other playing Mario Kart or watching sad romance dramas. He was like a best friend that you loved more. Since your break up with Mark, it’s been a long time since you’ve had a genuine best friend.
Sure, Mark was your best friend (that you dated), but a person to hang out with and spend your free time with was lovely. Yeah, the other guys are still your friends, but they are always super busy and can’t even catch a break with you. The only reason why Hendery can is that he is the head of his own department, and has other people working under him to do his work. Hendery strictly just reports what he gets from his peers. He works in the medicine and health department, which was in another building, to prevent sickness from spreading and allow a separate hospital for NCT.
You didn’t feel like that lonely child anymore, you felt love. Those same fuzzy warm feelings for Mark resonated within Hendery, but were you ever going to tell him? If he doesn’t feel the same thing what is going to happen?
You took a quick shower and changed, continuing to lay on your bed, thinking. Just as you were in your own thoughts, you heard a knock at your door. You got up to answer it, and speak of the devil, its Hendery. He walked in a little nervous and sat down on the bed.
“What’s up Hendery?”
“H-hey y/n, can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Do you w-want to come with me to the Masquerade Ball?”
“...”
“A-as f-friends of course...if that makes you feel comfortable.”
“...”
“I-I know you are still hurt from Mark, so I figured you should still enjoy the ball regardless.”
“T-thank you, I would love to go with you Hendery.”
“R-really??”
You then pecked his cheek, which made him blush a crimson red on his cheeks.
“You can also consider me your date then.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.”
He then hugged you before saying goodbye and goodnight, and you somehow lost all of your worries and fell asleep peacefully.
←previous chapter next chapter→
follow me to get updates on the series!
~n ✧*:·ﾟ
#nct#nct 127#nct u#wayv#nct imagine#nct imagines#nct mafia#nct mafia au#nct gang#nct gang au#nct!mafia#mafia!nct#nct fluff#nct angst#nct smut#nct comical#nct crack#nct mark#nct mark lee#mark lee#nct jaehyun#nct yoonoh#nct hendery#nct kunhang#wayv hendery#wayv kunhang#nct moodboard#nct mafia moodboard#wayv imagines#wayv mafia
245 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
nyacatchan
Unlimited Imagination
mxghtystars
mercury
sexymencentral
GAY SEXY MEN
jesselebon
JESSE LEBON
bevrhen
living by written lines.