#anyway if you REALLY want to ignore the coffee shop au you could contribute to there's brainstorming of other possible mundanities for them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lulenoita · 4 years

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The Other Side Of “Paradise”

okay i did my best but honestly there is something inherently romantic about coffee shop au’s. i don’t make the rules, this is something the Gods themselves have demanded of us mortals. anyways here’s a coffee shop au of geralt x jaskier x yennefer with a little bit of “hi working sucks and all customer service makes you wanna die” sprinkled in.

i haven’t written anything properly in a very, very long time and i will not apologise that this is garbage cause it’s my garbage. i’m also addicted to italics and run-on sentences :( i just love them :(

VERY mild tw, but there is suggestion of dubious consent workplace romance in this (bc fuck calanthe). it’s very blink and you’ll miss it but just in case this upsets anyone

There was nothing particularly remarkable about the tattered, leather armchair that the stranger chose to occupy every morning, from dawn ‘till minutes before the early-morning coffee rush of the overworked and exhausted middle class. It was a simple piece of furnishing, tired from years of use, the dark brown turned faded gold from loveless wear and tear.

Jaskier couldn’t even be certain it was real leather. It was some garishly old-fashioned monstrosity Yennefer had picked out under the insistence it “suited” the “aesthetic” of their humble coffee shop. That, he could agree with; old, worn-out, faded in spots with chipped paint and signage that management hadn’t been bothered with maintaining in years.

He was certain there was a poster still mounted out the front, boasting of a coffee-donut combo they didn’t offer anymore. At least, he hoped that was the reason customers kept arguing with him that they should be able to buy both for half the price of each item. Then again, he wouldn’t put it past the customers to argue simply for the sake of contributing to the misery of his day-to-day life, and adding that sweet tone of bitterness to his weekly paycheck.

To his point, though - in spite of the unremarkable nature of the unremarkable chair in the unremarkable coffeeshop, the stranger sat in it. Every day. Jaskier’s preference was for the brightly-coloured couch settled by the window. It was covered in bright pillows and filled with sunshine, not to mention the cushions were luxuriously soft and oh, how Jaskier longed to melt in them right this second. He was not a morning person, but neither was the manager, hence he was stuck on morning shifts with the occasionally pleasant, mostly venomous Yennefer, who was perhaps not an any-time-of-day person.

Jaskier couldn’t puzzle out why the stranger chose that particular spot, in their particular coffee shop, at that particular time every morning. Perhaps it was the sleep-deprivation, maybe it was the sheer monotony of serving coffee and making coffee and serving coffee and making coffee, but he found himself utterly bewitched with the notion of understanding every detail of this one especially broody customer. The early-morning crowd were not a pleasant bunch to begin with, but there was a quiet melancholy about the absolute behemoth of a man that was quite unrivalled by the rest of their clientele.

Curiously, Jaskier noted the way he, oh beautiful he, seemed to fold into himself where he sat in the chair - his large, well-built limbs tucked neatly away within the confines, head tipped down as he furrowed his brow at something on his phone. Jaskier wondered if the stranger actually knew how to smile. Thus far, none of the brunet’s jokes had yet roused even a twitch of the mouth, and Jaskier prided himself at being particularly hilarious when it was 2 minutes past 6 and he hadn’t eaten in 18 hours (because he didn’t want to plunge his account into the negatives over such a luxury as food).

The distinct click of Yennefer’s tongue roused Jaskier from his thoughts, and he cast his occasional partner-in-crime a sidelong glance. “Yes, oh beautiful maiden?” He hummed in that annoying pitch of tone that she loathed so much. It earned him a sigh. The sound was music to his ears, for it wasn’t a good day if Yennefer wasn’t exasperatedly indulging his existence for the sake of any semblance of company that didn’t involve rehashing the same, pleasant lines over-and-over for the mindless crowd that wandered through their creaky doors.

“If you’re done staring at the walking stereotype of the strong, silent type,” Yennefer began, her voice as haughty as the upwards tip of her chin - she despised being shorter than him, though he often argued it made no difference when she was emotionally the most domineeringly tall person he’d ever met. “I need you to actually do something useful with your life, like check the temperatures on the pies, and then make some of the coffee being ordered through the app?” She asked, annoyed.

Jaskier would’ve questioned why she was in a mood, but she rarely wasn’t in one, so there really was no point. He sighed, long-suffering. “Yes, your highness! Your most esteemed majesty! Is there anything else I can do with my waste of a life, if only to please you?” He asked, dramatically. He thought he saw the stranger in the lifeless armchair lift his head at Jaskier’s loud, extravagant proclamation, but when he turned to catch their eye the stranger was looking back at his phone. How disappointing. He could use a bit of tension-laden staring first thing in the morning, and from a distance it was easy to pretend that the stranger’s naturally displeased disposition was just frustrated, sexual pining.

“Stop ogling him and do your job,” Yennefer hissed. Jaskier groaned, but did as he was told.

–

“Why are you standing over the bin with three cartons of milk?” Jaskier asked, conversationally, having performed the duties demanded of him. He slung a striped tea towel dashingly over his shoulder - his outfit at work left much to be desired, he had to do something to add a bit of colour to it.

“The milk is out of date,” Yennefer made a face, as if this were the milk’s fault. Jaskier was delirious enough from working for the fifth day in a row to consider that it just might be.

“And you’re not throwing it out, because…?” He questioned, tone still light-hearted and friendly.

“I’m going to, I’m just mentally preparing myself for the lecture Calanthe is going to give me about wasting stock, as if a few cartons of milk is going to bankrupt Cintra Corp,” Yennefer sighed, her features twisting with a displeased scowl. Ah, Calanthe, their beloved manager, who was absolutely not on steroids and something else entirely that made her the most intensely awful person he’d ever met. She would be very unhappy to know that she had to write-off the milk.

“Better that than poisoning the masses,” he said, sounding unconvinced by his own words. By the grimace on Yennefer’s face and the pointed look over her shoulder at him, he suspected she disagreed. “I always knew your weapon of choice would be poison,” he chuckled.

“You say that as if I wouldn’t prefer to simply watch a man die with both of my hands around his throat,” she muttered darkly, dropping the milk into the bin and turning on her heel to walk back over to the counter. Jaskier trotted after her, happy puppy-dog that he was, always biting at her ankles to get her attention.

“Oh, that’s hot, Yen. Don’t turn me on first thing in the morning,” he cooed at her. Yennefer looked like she might laugh at that, when they were both interrupted by a customer clearing his throat.

And oh. There he was. Their silver-haired patron, coffee mug in hand, a thoughtful frown decorating his chiseled complexion. Jaskier wanted to write a thousand poems about the particular way the light caught on his eyes, turning them almost to shimmering gold, his hair messily (beautifully) framing the hard, angular lines of his jaw, the sweep of his mouth so kissably soft this early in the morning, the glow of the sun decorating his figure-

“Can I help you, sir?” He asked, eagerly. He could feel Yennefer rolling her eyes. He ignored her. “Would you like another coffee?”

“Geralt,” the man replied.

“Pardon?” Jaskier blinked, taken-aback.

“My name’s Geralt,” the stranger clarified, clearing his throat a little. It didn’t make his voice any less delectably deep. “You don’t need to call me ‘sir’.”

“Oh,” Jaskier replied, in all of his poetic brilliance. He could not think of a thing to say in response to being given a name - a name! What a wondrous thing! He’d compose a thousand sonnets to it, write a hundred songs, scribble it over every notebook he owned! Well, as soon as he thought of something to rhyme with a name like that, anyways. He was too hungry and tired to be brilliant just yet, such things were reserved for when his only company was the moon.

Yennefer recovered much faster than he did to the sheer, utter pleasure of being given a name. He surmised that this was entirely due to the free, out-of-date food Calanthe would periodically bestow upon Yennefer, as incentive to keep quiet about the way Calanthe enjoyed inflicting her romantic affections upon the woman. Jaskier witnessed these things too, and yet his silence was never bought - and it should be! Jaskier did not keep quiet about most things!

“Can we help you then, Geralt?” Yennefer asked.

“If you wouldn’t mind terribly,” Geralt murmured. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in having dinner with me sometime? That is, if you’re not too offended by - What was it you said? Oh, yes,” Geralt recalled, tilting his head slightly at Yennefer, who was beginning to flush a startlingly becoming shade of crimson. Whether this was from shock, embarrassment, or a lethal combination of both, Jaskier couldn’t be certain. “My being the ‘stereotype of the strong, silent type’?” And then, he did the most bastardly thing of all - his lips twitched up in a soft half-smile.

Jaskier felt unrepentant and hysterical indignation curl around his insides, his lips parting with a half-formed protest that had him begging to proclaim, ‘Insulting you?! That’s what it takes to make you smile?! Yennefer just has to INSULT you from a distance, and yet I spend weeks working to make you laugh and all you do is stare at me blankly! You-you handsome, daft bastard!’. Of course, he didn’t, because he wasn’t quite mad and he didn’t want the dashingly attractive stranger to realise that Jaskier had been obsessing over the shape of his mouth for nearly a month now. The audacity of the heterosexual man and his ability to be so easily pleased and captivated by a woman, Jaskier thought moodily.

Admittedly, Yennefer was quite a woman, but still. Still!

As if Jaskier’s thoughts were so haughty and offended they had made telepathy suddenly quite real, Geralt’s eyes snapped to him. There was a soft intensity burning in them, a faint amusement comfortably at home in the curve of his smile as he let his eyes roam down, then slowly back up. Jaskier felt suddenly under-dressed and unbelievably unattractive in his sun-faded, black (more grey, now) shirt that didn’t even compliment the shape of his figure because it was company-issued, and his brown slacks that did not even remotely hug the shape of his thighs, his ass.

Oh, to be free of the uniformed lifestyle and able to dress in tight-fitting everything, if only to give Geralt something to look at.

“You can come too, if you’d like,” Geralt said, the suggestion so lightly offered Jaskier almost didn’t even think anything of it. “You seem a package deal,” Geralt hummed, as if that explained his sudden suggestion that Yennefer, Jaskier, and himself go on a date. Together. All three of them. “Not that I wouldn’t ask even if you weren’t.” Geralt quirked a brow, as if daring Jaskier or Yennefer to deny him the pleasantry of both their company. Jaskier’s mind was reeling, which must be why for once in his life, all he could do was nod dumbly and offer not a single, witty flirt in retaliation.

Sensing his utter brain-dead uselessness, Yennefer stepped in. “Maybe,” she agreed, light-hearted but there was an eager edge to the way she tipped her body forwards, leaning against the counter, dark lashes sweeping over the snow-dusted curve of her cheeks as she looked at Geralt. “If you tip well.”

Geralt snorted. “In this economy?” He asked, amused, before he opened his wallet and pulled out a note. He scribbled a collection of numbers onto it, then slid it over to Yennefer, who took it with a bemused smirk and pocketed it. “Have a nice day,” Geralt murmured to them both, his eyes sliding to Jaskier. He smiled properly, then turned and left.

Jaskier collapsed against Yennefer’s side. “Are we even allowed to date the customers?” He asked, gasping like he’d just been underwater for a moment too long. He felt like it.

Yennefer cackled. “This job is shit, we might as well start fucking the people who come in - at least they’ll treat us nicer,” she pushed one of Jaskier’s wild curls out of his face and tucked it behind his ear, a rare display of fondness.

“You say that like men are known to be kind to the people they fall into bed with, and not just roll over and fall asleep,” Jaskier scoffed. Yennefer bit her lip and looked over to Geralt’s retreating figure, silhouetted by the sunlight as he crossed the street. Jaskier only recognised him because he’d spent an hour every morning committing to memory the broadness of his shoulders, and the tight roundness of his ass (the latter he only glanced in the brief moments where Geralt would stand to leave, or to order his coffee).

They were both silent for a moment, before Jaskier realised something. “Wait, when you saw me pining after him, were you rude to me because you were jealous? Have you been flirting with him, too?!” He exclaimed. “Or-” Jaskier was struck with sudden brilliance, a wicked smirk on his lips. “Were you jealous at the idea of sharing me?” He purred.

Yennefer stared at him like he was daft, then turned away as if to say ‘I won’t dignify that with an answer’. Jaskier knew it meant ‘yes’. He grinned and started to move out from behind the counter, intending to wipe down the tables and watch Geralt until he was out of sight.

“Oh wait, Jaskier?” Yennefer called out. “Yes, my darling?” He simpered, feeling particularly high-spirited in spite of the fact that it wasn’t even 7 in the morning. In this life, Jaskier lived by a simple truth - you take what you can get, lest you slump into depressive sleep for the rest of your days.

“Can you clean up the bathroom? Someone threw a meat pie at the mirror in there and it’s splattered everywhere,” she dead-panned, before turning away like she hadn’t just single-handedly destroyed every shred of joy in his soul.

“I hate you,” he exclaimed, though it did not slow her retreat. “Geralt would never make me do something like this!” He added confidently, knowing approximately two facts about the man (one of which was his name). Yennefer’s peals of laughter followed him as he resigned himself to bathroom duty.

#jaskier x geralt x yennefer #the witcher #geraskier #yeralt #jaskifer #geralt x jaskier #geralt x yennefer #yennefer x jaskier #this is too many tags tbh #writing #fandom

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khhunniewriting · 5 years

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Until It’s Gone

[ College AU ]

“Everyone must turn in the assignment upon entering the classroom. If you do not have it then feel free to leave.” Various sets of eyes widened as your professor opened the door to his classroom. It was clear not many people had taken his warnings seriously. You did all the work and read his email earlier in the week. “They do not pay me enough to teach those who do not wish to learn,” he groaned. The lack of effort on your class’ part had exasperated his motivation. He was sure most of you would fail the class and he would be seeing you all again the coming semester. After all, this class was a requirement to graduate.

Hanbin’s shoulders dropped as he cursed himself for not having done the assignment. He was a good student with excellent grades. The assignment was started but not finished because he kept blowing you off.

"Here.”

His attention shifted to you as you stood before him, your hand stretched out to give him a copy of the assignment you had finished by yourself. He felt bad taking it from you when he hadn’t contributed.

“Take it,” you assured him with a smile. All your life you had heard about how strong-willed and persistent you were. It never occurred to you it could be a bad thing. The way Hanbin ignored you to the point of almost failing an assignment should have been a wake-up call. You didn’t want the man you loved to be burdened by you. That’s why you stopped forcing him and ended up doing the assignment yourself. You had decided this was your apology for always inconveniencing him. It would be the last thing you pushed him to receive from you.

He took it expecting you to talk his ear off about how he owed you for it. Or perhaps you would try and rope him into being your partner in labs again? He was a bit relieved yet dumbfounded when instead you retreated into the class without a word.

During the lecture, Hanbing texted Bobby to tell him about what had happened. Bobby scolded him for always being so carelessly insensitive with you. Even if Hanbin claimed to not like you, Bobby felt he should talk normally to you. He always seemed to brush you off rudely. Now was a perfect chance for him to approach you for a change.

Hanbin reluctantly agreed with Bobby. Thanking you was the least he could do and it would be easy since you always walk with him to class anyway. He could work in a couple of words somehow.

After the professor dismissed the class Hanbin watched you walk out the door, your usual bright smile was gone. You looked distracted and serious for a change. When he stepped out into the halls you were nowhere to be seen.

Bobby’s head jerked from side to side as he looked for Hanbin. “Y/N,” he called out to you. It was strange to see you sitting all alone.

“Hey Bobby” you managed to smile at the nice boy who always had your back. Following his line of sight, you caught him eyeing the bag that rested atop the seat beside you. You went to remove your backpack and offer him the seat, “Sorry, did you want to sit here?”

He shook it off opting to sit in front of you, allowing your backpack to remain in place. “I don’t want to take Hanbin’s seat.” You looked away at the mention of Hanbin giving Bobby a sense that something was going on. He wondered if Hanbin had managed to screw up a thank you. “Where is he anyway?”

Just as he asked, Hanbin walked in startled to see you already there with Bobby.

“What took you so long?” Bobby asked. “Didn’t you have the same class as Y/N?”

“Yeah,” Hanbin responded. Something felt wrong since the moment you handed him the assignment.

Unlike with Bobby, you didn’t offer to take your bag off from the seat beside you making Hanbin sit next to Bobby instead. You didn’t even try to converse with the pair like you usually did.

It solidified to Bobby that there was something amiss. He wanted to get to the bottom of it so he texted Hanbin as soon as class started.

Bobby: What did you do to her?

Hanbin: Nothing!

Bobby: Then why is she ignoring you?

Hanbin’s chest tightened, it wasn’t just his imagination. You really were acting differently towards him. He didn’t know how to explain the way he felt. For the past year, he had been ignoring you and bow it seemed you were ignoring him for no good reason. It pissed him off. He knew he didn’t have a right to be angry but he felt an explanation was due.

Bobby: Did you do something stupid again?

Hanbin: I didn’t do anything.

Bobby: Maybe that’s the reason.

Hanbin: ?

Bobby: You finally did it. She finally got tired of trying to get your attention.

Hanbin’s brow furrowed, he looked over his shoulder trying to get a glimpse of you. You were proactively taking notes unbothered by his stare.

After class Bobby made it his mission to prove whether you were over Hanbin or not. “Hey Y/N where should we go for lunch?” The usual you would immediately respond and hook arms with Hanbin but it was just as Bobby suspected...

“Sorry, I’m going to have lunch with some friends.”

Your heart dropped when you spotted Bobby’s disappointment. It was never your intention to distance yourself from him, only Hanbin. “Maybe I’ll see you later at the coffee shop. If you come around closing time I’ll give you some of the end-of-the-day cookies.” You didn’t want to make it painfully obvious that you were doing so but the memory of Hanbin keeping that other girl's gift when he usually gave yours away stung.

“Good morning Hanbin” you beamed as you caught the first breath-taking sight of the man who made your heart flip forwards and backward. He was so handsome, smart, and kind to everyone.

Hanbin sighed, “good morning Y/N.” You were surprisingly bright-eyed for a seven a.m. lecture. He noticed the familiar red tin in your hands as you began to match his stride. Once again you had gone out of your way to give him something.

“Did you have breakfast yet?”

“I did.” Hanbin knew you would give him the baked goods whether he had eaten or not.

“Then you can share these with the guys,” you explained as you handed him the cookies you had made this morning at the cafe. “I worked morning shift so those are freshly made.”

Hanbin begrudgingly took them knowing everyone would yell at him for turning them down. He never ate them hoping you would stop giving them but still, you persisted. “Thanks, I guess.”

“No problem, I guess.” you mimicked. “Wouldn’t kill you to sound a bit happier. I bet you would smile if someone else...” you tilted your head ahead to show him who was waiting outside his class. It was another girl who had started taking a liking to him. You knew her, she was nice so you had nothing against her. Everyone was free to pursue their love interest if he or she was available. Hanbin wasn’t yours so you had to accept that you had competition.

The girl held a small red tin similar to the one in Hanbin’s hand. You knew for a fact that it was the exact same one because she had bought it from the cafe you this morning. You caught a glimpse of her as she left and knew this would happen.

Hanbin’s eyes widened as he saw her. She was definitely a beautiful girl, shy, and had an incredible smile. He didn’t know her well and hardly saw her but lately, she seemed to pop up more often.

He had no idea of the crush she had on him. She never made a move but you, you had heard her talking to her friends in the women’s washroom.

“Do you know her?” he asked hoping to get a name.

You shook your head, “not really but I bet she’s going to tell you.” Her body language said it all, she was ready to confess. Your heart ached at the thought. The way Hanbin kept his eyes on her made you think this was probably the end.

“What do you mean?”

The girl took a few steps forward meeting Hanbin and you before he could get to the classroom. “Sorry to interrupt-”

“Don’t mind me, I’m just going to go ahead to my class.” Unfortunately, your lecture was being held on an entirely different floor. You would normally say a quick hello to the guys before leaving but right now you just felt like running away. A lump lodged in your throat keeping you from saying goodbye to Hanbin. instead, you quickly walked away and rounded the corner where you allowed yourself to give in.

Your back hit the wall, as you slid down to sit on the cold tiles of the hall you let out the lump in the form of a shaky sigh.

Peeking out from the corner you caught sight of Hanbin’s smile- directed at her. The apples of his cheeks brightened in a pinkish tone as he took the cookies from her. You could tell she was embarrassed seeing he already had a similar one- the one you gave.

That’s when you saw Bobby arriving late. Hanbin pushed the tin of cookies from you to him.

You shrugged as you revealed, “I know Hanbin gives my cookies to you anyway.” You left after shoving the last of your things in your bag.

Hanbin’s jaw dropped as if he were ready to defend himself for giving away the sweets you would gift him. It was you who suggested he share in the first place. “You said I could-” he stopped seeing you hadn’t turned back to hear him out.

Bobby watched it all play out before him. His own heart dropped to the pit of his stomach as he felt guilt by association. “Looks like you got what you wanted...doesn’t look like Y/N will be hanging around any longer.” He would make sure to take up your offer and explain he had no idea it bothered you so much when he took the sweets from Hanbin. He knew they were for him but they were just too good to turn down.

Hanbin’s lips pressed into a thin line. Your words had left him with a bad taste in his mouth. “I never meant to make her mad.”

Bobby’s brow creased, “She’s not mad, she’s disappointed.” The passive aggressive statement you made before leaving could be misinterpreted as anger but Bobby knew it was you suppressing your own heartbreak. “Y/N finally realized you weren’t going to return her feelings and backed away like you wanted.”

\\\

Hanbin thought it was impossible but Bobby was right. You really had backed off. For weeks he had heard very little from you. When the next group assignment was given Bobby invited you to their group but you refused, already having a group of your own.

Without you in the group to organize and keep everyone on task, Hanbin ended up being the one to carry the burden. He tried getting everyone to meet in the library but something always came up. He was sure many of the excuses were false but he wasn’t as determined as you. Whenever anyone tried to weasel out of doing their part you did whatever it took to get them to work. You weren’t one to shy away from stalking and catching them in their lies.

Hanbin remembered when you forcibly dragged him to the library after Bobby blew his cover. He was shaking off the memory with slight laughter when you suddenly appeared in his line of sight.

You were entering the library with one of your group members. Hanbin immediately recognized him as one of the smarter people in the class.

“I’ll go see if I can find the others while you get a table.” Like always you were hunting down classmates. Only now you were a little relieved when one person willingly offered to come along..

Mino nodded, “Sure.”

Looking around Hanbin cursed that his table was the only empty one, except for him of course.

“Hey,” Mino cheerfully greeted recognizing Hanbin from his class. “Are you expecting anyone?”

“No, go ahead.”

“Thanks, it’s just me and Y/N so we won’t bother you too much.” Mino set his stuff down leaving the seat beside him for you. He was pretty sure you would come back emptyhanded. The rest of your group weren’t the best of students. “You two are friends right?”

Hanbin hesitated to reply, “you could say that.”

Knowing when to stop, Mino retreated into his own work. The two worked in silence for a good while until you showed up.

“Sorry~” you apologized with an exasperated sigh as you slouched into your seat. “I looked all around campus.”

Mino chuckled, “it’s better to put our efforts into the work.” The other two members were his close friends. “I’ll get those two to do their part.”

“Thanks Mino.”

Hanbin couldn’t help but stare on incredulously as you two smiled. It was like he wasn’t even there. You had even begun settling in, taking out your binder and pencil case- completely ignoring him.

“Hello Y/N.”

“Hello, Hanbin.”

That was the extent of your interaction. For a while, you focused on Mino and your work. The two of you were equally as hard working making the process easier than ever before.

At one point you started to feel useless. You stared intently at Mino as he continuously typed on his laptop. “You know, you can ask me to help. I’m afraid you might overheat with how fast your fingers are moving.”

Mino chuckled, “It’s fine, really.”

Hanbin peeked up from his own laptop.

“Do you want something to drink?” you asked hoping to do anything to feel helpful.

“I’m fine-”

“Please just ask me to do something,” you begged holding onto his arm. You couldn’t take sitting silently in front of Hanbin for much longer.

Mino caved and asked for water.

You made sure you were far enough from the table to groan. It was so hard giving Hanbin up. For so long you had pursued him, talking to him any chance you got, and helping him with school work. Now you had excess time and energy with no outlet for it.

At the vending machine, you bought two bottles of water, one for you and one for Mino. You lingered in front of the machine thinking whether to purchase a third for Hanbin. Maybe you could write it off as a polite gesture towards a classmate?

“Excuse me,” a girl walked up behind you. “Are you done?”

Considering how content he seemed with you leaving him alone till now... you decided against it. “Yeah, go ahead.”

\\\

The more time passed the farther you seemed to get. Hanbin noticed how much quieter it had gotten around his seat now that you sat in the front of the class.

Even if he hurried to get his things together you would already be down the hall. There was never a moment where you two crossed paths long enough for him to apologize.

Lately, he felt that’s what he had to do.

Bobby broke Hanbin’s thoughts when he appeared before him. “You ready to go or- Y/N, forgot something?”

You came back to the classroom after realizing you had left your umbrella. “Hey Bobby,” you casually greeted him feeling a bit embarrassed to admit that you had. “Good thing next lecture was canceled or I might have forgotten it for good.”

When you were about to step out it began to rain which made you turn back.

“Oh, next class is canceled?”

You nodded.

“Then do you want a ride home?”

Your eyes immediately met Hanbin’s. Even if Bobby was the one offering, it was Hanbin’s car. There was no way he would want you to accept. “Thanks but I can walk.”

Bobby looked out the classroom window to see a large amount of water falling from the sky. “You’ll get sick.” It was a fifteen-minute walk to your house. In these conditions, he was sure Hanbin would agree to give you a ride.

“It’s not that bad-”

“Just come with us,” Hanbin interrupted.

The ride was silent and awkward after he had dropped Bobby off. You fixed your sight out the window to keep from looking at him.

Hanbin called out your name but you didn’t even turn. “Look I’m sorry for-”

“It’s okay,” you replied, cutting him off before he said something that would give you false hope.

“You don’t even know what I’m sorry for.”

“Do you?” You asked turning to face him. “Hanbin you don’t have to apologize. I know I was a nuisance to you but I can’t help fighting for what I want. It’s just who I am. I didn’t realize that was such a burden to you until now.”

Instead of ridding himself of his guilt you were adding more. Hanbin didn’t mean to make you rethink your whole personality. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, I’m just reflecting aloud.” The smile you offered looked strained.

“Don’t change because of me.” Hanbin didn’t think you were a bad person. Sure you were a little clingy and annoying...

“I didn’t change, I just directed my energy at other people?”

“Like Mino?”

You nodded, “Mino and his friends don’t seem to mind me being around."

“The guys never minded either.”

“I know. Bobby and the others still visit me at the shop when it’s my turn to close. They walk me home and we occasionally have movie nights at Donghyuk’s.”

Hanbin never realized you all got together without him.

Silence filled the car once more making you feel greater discomfort than before. “You can just drop me off here.”

Hanbin’s brow rose, you were both going in the same direction. “We live in the same direction.”

“Yeah but I know how difficult it is for you to be around me.”

“Do you really think I hate you that much?”

You shrugged making him pull over.

“Y/N all I wanted was some space.”

You gave an apologetic bow of your head. “I’ll be going then.”

Hanbin locked the doors to stop you from running off again. “Back then you kept sticking by me no matter what I did. Wherever I went there you were. You did my share of the work, you brought me food, you helped me when I never asked you to.”

“Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing!” He held you by the shoulders making you look up at him. “I didn’t say they were bad things!” He sighed hanging his head.

You stilled, unsure of what to do. He was holding you! Your heart raced, threatening to leap out and ease whatever pain had Hanbin like this. His tone didn’t match his words which only furthered your confusion. “A-are you okay?”

“I’m sorry for taking you for granted.”

Your mouth hung open in shock of what you had heard. It had to be a dream for him to be saying this. If this was a dream you never wanted to wake up.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this-” he let go of you. His hands went to cover his face as he felt the blood oddly rushing to his head. “I think I actually like you.”

“Now I know this is a dream.” You tried opening the locked car only to be stopped by Hanbin.

“I’m being serious Y/N.”

Now that this was happening you were the one who wanted to get away from him. “Sorry it’s just- I never really thought of what would happen if you ever returned my feelings.” You felt your face heat up just like he did.

“And I never thought I would like you.”

You had watched every drama, ever anime, read every romance novel, and not once had there been a situation like this. “So what do we do now?”

Hanbin licked his lips. “If you still like me-”

“I do!” you immediately shouted causing Hanbin to scowl. “Sorry please continue,” you sheepishly apologized for interrupting him.

"Since you managed to make me fall in love with you, I guess I can take you out on a date.”

“What- you love me?”

-end-

A/N: For those of you who need a happy ending with Hanbin after Apology Necessary ^^

#kpop scenarios #ikon scenarios #b.i scenarios #hanbin scenarios #kim hanbin scenarios #kpop #khh #ikon #ikon b.i #ikon hanbin #b.i #hanbin #kim hanbin #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #khh scenarios #khiphop scenarios

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ialwayscomewhenyoucall · 5 years

Text

A Wolf at Her Heels

Chapter 1/10

ten x rose

This is the story of Rose Tyler.

Rose Tyler, Defender of the Earth, hopping through endless dimensions to find her Doctor. We all know how the original story ended.

This one ends differently.

In this story, Rose has a little help from her friends, and from a Wolf.

**A Journey's End fix-it, because sometimes I want a happily ever after**

Chapter 1 - The Professor

(The Twelfth Doctor)

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Rose knows the voice, even though she’s never heard it before. She looks up from the tea she’s been sipping for twenty minutes, cold now, to see a man with wild grey hair and piercing eyes slip into the chair across from her.

“Hello Doctor,” she says softly, the hint of a smile flitting at her lips.

If he’s surprised to be recognized in his new body he doesn’t show it. “Hello Rose.” There’s a tone in his voice she’s never heard before, a warmth that feels somehow new. Maybe it’s just the Scottish accent. She tucks the thought away to examine later.

“If you’ve been waiting for me how come my tea’s gone cold?” she teases, reaching across the tiny table to fold a hand into his. Should it be this easy to step into old habits with him? Somehow she knows the Doctor she’s looking at is much older than the Doctor she’s looking for. Centuries older. It’s the eyes, she decides. Those eyes have seen--

Rose’s thoughts are interrupted by a gangly twenty-something boy with floppy black hair that keeps falling into his eyes. “I loved yesterday’s lecture, Professor. I can’t get it out of my head, actually. Do you really believe time travel is possible? And we could achieve it someday?”

The Doctor levels a serious gaze at the young man. “It doesn’t matter what I believe. What do you think, Mr. Jossen?”

Jossen appears to struggle with first his thoughts, then his words. Finally he says, “I’m not sure what I believe, Professor. But I hope it’s true. There’s a whole universe of possibilities out there, just waiting to be explored.”

The Doctor winks at Rose. “Right you are, Mr. Jossen. Right you are.” He nods at the boy, then adds, “I’ll see you in class on Monday. Don’t forget to do your reading.”

“Of course, Professor. Sorry to interrupt your, uh…” He looks from Rose, to the Doctor, to their entwined hands on the tabletop, then finishes with a slight blush on his cheeks, “I’m just sorry to interrupt.” He flees.

Rose lets go her giggles as soon as the young man is out of earshot. “Alright. For one, you didn’t have to torture him like that. And two, you’re a teacher now? At a university? How did that happen? I’ve seen wonders, but this…” She grins, clearly both mystified and at ease.

“That? That wasn’t torture, just a bit of fun. Jossen can handle it. And he needs some discomfort now and again. He’s headed for big things, that one.” She recognizes the far off look in his eye, the one he gets when he’s living things that haven’t happened yet. She gives him a moment, then taps leg of the table with her toe. He snaps back to the present with a blink. “Right. As for the rest--” He gestures expansively about, an all-encompassing type of gesture. “It’s really too much to go in to at the moment. We just haven’t got the time, I’m afraid.”

Rose hears the ticking sound in her ears--the one that’s been following her ever since she started traveling with the dimension cannon--grow slightly louder. She pushes it back; she’s with her Doctor, and will not let herself panic.

“Nardole is down guarding the Vault so that’s no worry, and--” The Doctor stops, biting back whatever he’d been about to say. “Well, that’s nothing to be going on about right now. The point is, I myself have got loads of time. But you,” he points at Rose, then at her wrist, “have only got about five minutes, yeah?”

Rose goes lightheaded, and the ticking sound drowns out all every other noise around her. But then the Doctor is there, holding her in his arms and murmuring into her hair. When she opens her eyes she sees the underside of the table and realizes she must have slid off her chair. “Wha happen?” she says. Her head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton.

“What happened,” the Doctor says drily, “is you used up 86 seconds of our time together passing out.” He brushes a kiss against her forehead and adds, in a much gentler tone, “Are you alright, love? I know this dimension-hopping takes its toll.”

Sinking deeper into him she says, “I’m alright, Doctor. For the next three minutes anyway.”

The Doctor’s voice grows serious. “Rose, I need you to hear me. I imagine you’re getting these things out of order, but you’re clever. You’ll get it right in the end.” He kisses her again, this time on her mouth. “Alright, Rose?”

Rose nods, then buries her face in his neck. Those eyes, she can’t bear to see the look in those eyes.

“No, Rose, I need you to look at me.” His voice is so raw she can’t help but look up. She bites her lip to keep herself from crying out.

“Listen for the Wolf, Rose. Everything depends on it. Everything.”

She shivers. She’d heard the capital letter in his voice.

“I’ll listen, Doctor. Promise.”

And suddenly she’s aware of the ticking again, feels the moments running through her fingers, and she tries to grasp just one to hold onto, to keep for herself.

“Doctor?” She sits in front of him, the stones of the courtyard biting into her knees. Ignoring the pain she smiles up at him through her lashes, her tongue poking at the edge of her smile just so.

“Rose?” She hears the catch in his voice.

She kisses him softly on his lips. “I love the accent.”

There is just enough time to see his look of astonishment and pleasure before the dimension cannon pulls at her middle and she is gone.

***

author’s note: This story came about because I read something on tumblr about how we should all write our stories, that even though x number of people have already written a nine x rose coffee shop au doesn't mean *you* shouldn't write *yours*. Because every single one is different. And it made me realize that even though there are already half a million (minor exaggeration) Journey's End fix-its...well, no one's ever written mine. So I should get on that. And then an idea was born.

So anyway, here's my contribution. Now it's half a million and one. ;)

***

@doctorroseprompts

#lirael writes #doctorroseprompts #ten x rose #twelve x rose #dw fic #journey's end fix-it #dimension-hopping rose #there will be angst #but i promise a happy ending!#also four chapters of the ten are already written #so this should be done and posted very quickly!! :)

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littlemissheartfilia · 6 years

Text

What My Reflection Is

Part of my contribution to @ftlgbtales first October event and personally one of my favorite additions to The Rolling Pin universe.

Summary: Sting Eucliffe's day could not get any worse. He was drowning in responsibilities, stress, and just plain losing control of reality. Little does Sting know how much his friends already see his struggle. So he learns that no matter what Rogue will be there for him.

Pairing(s): Stingue, Yukinerva

Setting: Modern day AU. This exists within a universe I set up in a OS ages ago. The OS is The Rolling Pin if you wanna check it out on AO3? Also takes place the morning after Protect What’s Yours. Not at all necessary to read those in order to understand this though, everything’s self explanatory.

Sting looked out of the arched brick windows wishing he could find their beauty today. Every day since he started working at The Rolling Pin coffee/bakery shop he had loved to stare out those windows. Vines framed the sides of the glass, hanging in perfect aesthetic formation with the red brick of the building.

Only a month into living in Sabertooth square and working this job and Sting had already filled a scrapbook with various polaroids, prints and scraps of memories from his time working here. He liked looking back at the scrapbook sometimes when the pressure of being on his own in a new place got to him.

Yes this place was lovely, but today the beauty of it fell on blind eyes. Sting found nothing about today lovely at all. When he moved here he had still had some money left over in a bank account for emergencies. But now that so many weeks had passed most of that was gone to handle rent and daily expenses.

Sure he had a job but cashiering at the local bakery meant he was only rolling in doubt and uncertainty rather than the big bucks. He’d been trying for a long time now to make a name for himself as a photographer but every post on his website was like screaming into the void. No one heard and no one cared. To top it all off Sting hadn’t had the money to keep paying his medical bills and had fallen behind on his T in favor to keep paying rent. And when he fell behind on his T bad things happened. This time he’d started bleeding.

So here was Sting, bleeding and in pain, hunched over the counter at his work watching customers happily munch on their donuts. Even the sight of food made his stomach churn. He hadn’t eaten anything all day but at this point he doubted he could even force food down his throat.

He had tried for most of his shift to ignore the pain and his humiliation but he still had two more hours to go and Sting was ready to drown himself under the nozzle of the coffee maker while it was on full blast. At least he was here alone with Yukino, so no one else had to see his shame. The particular no one he was worried about was Rogue. Saturday’s were his days off and the bakery was small enough to be run smoothly by him and Yukino, so Sting was safe for today.

Or so Sting thought. No sooner had he told himself it was a good thing his boss wasn’t here than did the wind chimes sound, signaling the front door opening, and Rogue strut in. He was in the most dressed down apparel Sting had ever seen on him, just jeans and a Tee that featured the logo of some heavy metal band Sting didn’t recognize.

But his hair was still pulled back into that too attractive ponytail and Sting’s knees grew weaker than they already were. He nearly bit down on his tongue in shock. Sting quickly stood up straight, definitely not leaning his head into his hand with a bored expression while at work behind the counter. Definitely not unprofessional.

“Heeyy,” Sting called trying to let the word drag out so Rogue would think it was nothing more than a friendly greeting.

“Afternoon, Sting,” Rogue said naturally flashing him a perfect smile. Yukino came around the corner carrying a tub of dirty dishes and stopped by Rogue with a sweet smile.

“Hello, Rogue. I thought you didn’t like to come in on Saturdays?”

Rogue chuckled and scratched at the back of his neck. Even the way he rose his arms was attractive. God, I’m so gay. Sting thought as another wave of pain hit him and he scowled. And miserable...oh yeah. He quickly looked away, pretending to be busy messing with the pastry display even though it was already arranged to perfect symmetry.

“I don’t,” Rogue replied. “But apparently Minerva forgot the books here yesterday so she asked me to get them.”

Yukino sighed and said in an overly sweet voice, “She’s still hung over huh?”

Rogue gave a half scoff half chuckle. “Yeah. But she insists on doing the finances. I even told her to take today off but she wouldn’t have it.”

Yukino’s laugh was as lovely as the wind chimes on the front door. “She tries very hard, doesn’t she?”

“Almost too hard,” Rogue agreed. “Anyway keep up the good work.” Rogue gave her a pat on the arm and she nodded, disappearing behind the door of the kitchen with her tub of dishes.

Rogue walked over by the counter where Sting was still fumbling with the pastries. “How are you holding up?” came Rogue’s deep voice. Even though Sting knew he was there he hadn’t been expecting a chat and the sudden address startled him. He jumped, hitting his head off the top of the glass display.

“Ah!” Sting yelped rubbing at the top of his messy head of hair. Gods he hoped he didn’t look as horrible as he felt. Up close like this Rogue would definitely notice. “Jus-Just fine,” Sting said none too convincingly.

Rogue raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry I had to call you in today. But after Lucy left to go pursue her big writer’s break we’ve been short some really capable workers.”

Sting shrugged. “‘Is fine. Liquor doesn’t get to me as much as it does Minerva.” Sting tried for a chuckle but even to him he sounded unenthusiastic. “Glad I can be your secondhand fill in, though.” Ah yes, the only thing Sting knew how to do when nervous. Self-deprecate your way into a joke and out of a conversation.

Rogue gave him a patient smile as he moved behind Sting and began searching the register drawers for the book of the store’s income and expenses. “You’re much more than that by now, Sting. You’re part of the family.”

Sting scoffed and returned to trying to look busy, this time he chose a rag from his waist apron pocket and wiped down non-existent spots on the counter. “We’re a family now? What does that make me, the adopted son you just can’t wait to send back into the system or the step-child that’s only in the family from a previous marriage?”

Rogue gave him a sly look and tried for a chuckle. If Rogue was going to say more Sting never got to hear it. A horrible retching sound came from the front of the store. There was a taller glass display that held the pastry specials on top of the register counter. So his view was blocked but Sting saw enough to catch a little kids head ducking by a table and the sound that followed after it.

Rogue lifted an eyebrow. “That makes you the poor sap who gets to clean that up,” he finished. Sting groaned and feigned annoyance but he knew better than to argue with the boss.

Groggily he stepped out from behind the counter and walked over to where a very distraught mother was soothing her sons back while he groaned into a napkin. As soon as Sting approached she looked up horrified. Sting didn’t think he looked that bad today?

“Is everything ok?” Sting asked in his nicest voice.

The mother was the one to reply, shaking her brown head of hair. “I think he just had too much to eat.” Then she leaned into her son and whispered into his ear though Sting could still hear it, “I told you you should have stayed home today, you’re not well enough.”

The son grimaced but he was done puking and he pulled the cloth from his mouth to grumble, “‘m fine, mom.” He spat into the napkin, folded it and wiped his mouth once more with the clean end.

Sting looked over the contents of the boys stomach on the floor. Crouching down Sting made eye contact with the kid who had to be little older than twelve. “Do you want a water or anything? On the house?”

The kid gave him a nasty side eye up and down then turned his head away. “You’re bleeding through your pants,” he said loudly and clearly. Sting’s eyes shot wide open. “Gross, get away from me, fag.”

“Markus!” the mother reprimanded before shoving her child to the front door and barely looking Sting’s way. Subconsciously Sting looked down, he was indeed bleeding through his only pair of white pants. It had gotten so bad a blotchy spot even appeared on the small section that hung down from his navy blue apron.

When he stood up he could practically feel liquid running down his leg and to make things worse that kid’s outburst had every eye in the small bakery staring at him. Someone shuffled behind the counter and Sting turned to see Rogue staring blankly at him. Soon Rogue’s eyebrows scrunched together and he began to walk around the side of the counter, abandoning the little black book they used for their finances in his stride.

Sting swallowed roughly. His heart was pounding, he couldn’t stop sweating and that puke right under his nose made him queasy. Top it off with Rogue’s confused gaze as he strode forward and Sting wanted nothing more than to evaporate.

Before Rogue could reach him Sting stumbled backwards and held up a hand. “I’ll get the mop,” he said and practically ran to the back room.

Yukino caught sight of him from the open door to the kitchen, her gaze curiously following his movements completely unaware of anything that just happened. She must have sensed Sting’s urgency though as he ripped an empty mop bucket from under the industrial sink and began filling it.

Yukino walked over, concern in her face. “Are you-”

“No,” Sting answered curtly without any explanation, already starting to rip off his ruined apron. “Rogue needs a mop out there,” he said then left the back room, with the tap still running water into the bucket, to slip between the register counter to the customers bathroom. It was the only bathroom they had in this place. He locked the door with finality praying to any god that would listen that Rogue hadn’t just witnessed everything he thought he had.

It wasn’t like Sting had ever formally come out before. By the time he realized he was trans it was senior year in high school and his father had helped him so much with the transition. But he was about the only person who did. Sting’s slow transformation didn’t go unnoticed by the students or faculty but he had never really told anyone either.

His senior year didn’t end like all the other kids did; in happy memories and scholarships for college. His senior year ended in medical bills and miserable life experiences. This town was supposed to be an out from that. Sabertooth Square was supposed to be his do over.

It had worked for a while. He found friends that took him for who he was and he never had to explain to them his gender. Though they never knew him in the past so they probably wouldn’t have known anyway. Well they definitely wouldn’t have known if this didn’t just happen.

“Oh my god…” Sting breathed, beginning to hyperventilate. “Did that really just happen?” He stared at himself in the mirror and nearly flinched. He looked so pale, a few of his tan freckles stood out. But they were usually so light that they couldn’t be seen on his face. Only when he was sick or low on blood sugar was he ever pale enough for them to show. He didn’t think he was either right now but so much was wrong with today why not add another thing to the list?

Sting’s blonde hair was messy, sticking back in spikes like it usually does but the front was limp and sweaty. He had bags under his eyes that he didn’t think were there before but maybe the flourescent lights of the bathroom were just getting to him. He hated his own reflection. He began to despise the reflection that stared back at him with such uncertain eyes, just like he had years before his transition. All that anguish he felt was just swimming under their glossy surface begging to come out.

He blinked a few tears away and turned to sit on the toilet. Head in his hands he tried to control his breathing. He had to get out of these clothes somehow. It was only an hour and a half until he got to go home damnit why was this happening now?

His heart leapt out of his chest when he heard someone knock on the door. Out of habit and stupid reflex he croaked out, “Be done in a minute!” Voice obviously too high pitched and cracked to sound casual.

“Sting?” Rogue’s deep voice sounded through the thick pine door. “Is everything ok?”

Sting just stared at the door for a while. He didn’t know what he could say that wouldn’t jeopardize everything. He didn’t want Rogue to know he was trans. Not until after he was able to afford bottom surgery and maybe not even then. He’d sooner completely forget his birth gender than admit to anyone what he was.

“Listen, if you wanna take the rest of the day off,” Rogue continued and Sting sucked in a loud sob. “I’m not gonna keep you here after that. I’ll pick up your shift until someone else comes in.”

Now it was all Sting could do to keep his sobs quiet. He hoped Rogue couldn’t hear them through the door but he was so hopeless and they sounded loud even to him. There was no way Sting could answer Rogue with his lips contorting the way they were. And he didn’t trust his voice not to crack or hiccup through a sentence.

“Sting,” Rogue’s voice dropped an octave. It turned soft and Sting wasn’t ready for the change. “You don’t have to hide. I’ll have Minerva bring you some fresh clothes then you can go home, alright?...Please just let me know you’re alive and I don’t have to call an ambulance.”

Sting took a deep breath. “I’m fine,” he answered finally and thought he heard Rogue breathe a sigh of relief through the door. “Just-” he bit his lip. “Rough day, y’know.”

Rogue was silent for a while and Sting almost thought he had walked away. “Can I come in?” his voice was quiet, tentative.

Sting’s laugh surprised even himself. “You don’t wanna see this.”

“C’mon, man, I’ve seen you drunk and dancing half-naked on my kitchen table. What else is there to hide?”

Sting had to suppress an inward sigh but he rolled his eyes. Begrudgingly he stood up, another wave of cramps hitting him as he did and unlocked the bathroom door. Rogue made sure to open the door just enough for him to squeeze through then shut it again quietly.

Sting didn’t know what to do. So he just stood there, arms crossed over his chest, almost shivering from nerves.

“I knew you looked beat this morning but suddenly it’s like you aged ten years,” Rogue joked and Sting had half a mind to slap him.

“Kids, huh?” Sting tried for a chuckle and smile but fell terribly short. “They say the darndest things.”

Rogue looked down at his feet before replying. “You don’t have to be ashamed. No one here is judging you for something like that. If that mother hadn’t left so quickly I would have made sure to get a name so I could ban them from coming here.”

Sting shook his head and turned away. “You don’t have to be so drastic.”

Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder and it shocked him just how much he tensed under it. “Sting, I mean it. I don’t tolerate that kind of hate. And I tolerate you being so down on yourself even less.” Sting’s gaze dropped. Wow, I’m crying, he thought. Huh, weird.

“I’ll pick up the rest of your shift today and call Minerva. She can walk to your place to pick up some new clothes, hangover or not. You wanna wait in the backroom? Or should I just kick everyone out of the store to save you the embarrassment?” Rogue said with a smile in his tone.

Sting chuckled through his tears. “Stop being so nice to me, I’ll choke.”

To his delight Rogue chuckled back. “Get used to it, Eucliffe. I treat all my employees like family.” Rogue thought for a moment. “Actually better than my own family. But you should see them during get togethers, you wouldn’t blame me.” There was a tense moment where Sting took some deep breaths to try and stop shaking. Rogue broke the silence by placing another hand on his shoulder and bringing him in for a hug.

“You’ll be okay,” Rogue whispered into his ear.

Only as long as you keep holding me. Sting thought it, but kept his mouth shut as his eyes closed involuntarily. He tried to breathe in Rogue’s scent but couldn’t smell anything. Because Rogue already smelt like home.

Bonus:

“What did you mean you’ve seen my dance naked on your kitchen table?” Sting asked suddenly pulling away from Rogue’s embrace.

The other boy just chuckled. “Half-naked,” he corrected. “You tend to take your shirt off when you drink too much.”

Sting’s eyes widened and he felt his heart spike with adrenaline. “Sooo..?” He trailed off the question was in his mind and on his face but he couldn’t voice it.

Rogue nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes we saw your top surgery scar.” Sting’s eyes widened further than humanly possible. Mortification crept up his spine like an old friend. Rogue took one look at Stings face and his expression softened. “No, no don’t look so scared. Most of us already knew anyway and-”

“MOST OF YOU ALREADY KNEW?! Most of who?” Sting blurted out. He was afraid his voice could be heard even from outside the bathroom but he was too nervous of everything to care.

Rogue paused and began counting on his fingers. “Well it was the week after Lucy quit...so actually only me, Minerva and Yukino were there.”

Sting took a deep breath. He couldn’t believe he’d already outed himself like this. He ran a hand through his greasy hair and took a few pacing steps. “How did you already know?”

Rogue giggled and looked away sheepishly. “Well there was this other time you got drunk…”

Sting groaned and threw his head into his hands. “I’m never drinking again.”

#fairy tail #wwtdp fics #stingue #hi i love trans!sting #he is a gay mess and i love him

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crystalrequiem · 6 years

Text

Soulmate Meme Blurb

Based very loosely on this post

KuroFai, Firstwords Soulmate Mark AU. That’s basically all you need to know. Warnings: Cursing. Kurogane being aggressively annoyed.

“…don’t you think, Kurogane?” Tomoyo asks, turning to look at her brother as they make their way towards the subway. He has no idea what she just said, but chances are good it probably had something to do with the Kinomoto girl. He nods, and she seems satisfied.

He doesn’t usually ignore his favorite sister. He just can’t help that something else has captured his attention.

There’s that blond again, in the same stupid uniform, at the same stupid coffee shop. That guy somehow manages to wind up wiping the tables outside every damn time he and Tomoyo pass by on their way their respective schools. Kurogane knows that it could just be a routine. Maybe the blond always comes out to tidy the patio at the same time of morning, but something tells Kurogane the jerk does this on purpose. He’s fairly certain he watched the idiot wipe down an already spotless surface as Kurogane passed by more than once, too-blue eyes staring amusedly at him the whole time.

Asshole. What right does he have to stand there looking so damn attractive every morning, unaffected no matter how viciously Kurogane glares his way. Pretty face and long limbs and the way he moves—He’s interesting. He makes Kurogane, ever so slightly, nervous.

What a dick.

The blond stops what he’s doing just as they pass, meets Kurogane’s glare as effortlessly as always, and winks.

He fucking winks.

“Do you know that person?” Tomoyo asks him, softly, and Kurogane hurries to race down the rest of the block before either of them can see the shade his face is turning. He imagines he hears the sound of someone’s musical laugh chasing behind.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The next day, he’s there again. Of course he is.

“He seems nice,” Tomoyo announces, “you should talk to him sometime.” Like clockwork, the man at the café distracts Kurogane from what his sister means to tell him. He hums distantly in answer, watching his tormentor move. Those slim shoulders flex quite nicely as the jerk works to clean the glass of his storefront, some kind of squeegee in hand.

God, what is he doing? He doesn’t need more daydream food. He has more than enough already. He doesn’t want it. Kurogane will deny it until the day he dies, but at the heart of things, he maybe might be a closet romantic. He’ll wait to fall head over heels until he hears the ridiculous diatribe scrawled in large, looping letters over the canvas of his back, thank you very much. He doesn’t want…. Whatever this weird fixation is.

Really.

They step closer, and just when he thinks he might finally slip by without those blue eyes sliding mercilessly towards his, Tomoyo does the strangest thing.

“Morning!” She calls across the street, waving. Blondie catches sight of her motion reflected on dark glass and turns to wave back.

“Tomoyo, what the hell are you doing,” Kurogane grits through his teeth. He wants to look away, but he’s doomed to catch the man’s gaze again. Tomoyo is a traitor.

He reaches over and stills his sister’s wrist, desperate to slip by without further embarrassment. That damn wink had already been permanently mired in his thoughts. He thinks it won’t bother him so badly if the guy tries again, but he would much rather avoid it all the same.

So of course that asshole meets his intimidating scowl with a wicked grin. Of course, he lifts that previously waving, long-fingered hand to his lips and blows a kiss.

“Oh my, you’re very red right now.” His traitor sister does not need to tell him. He very much knows.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Today, he simply plans to hide from it. Maybe he has to face that guy again at some point, but “some point” is not right now. The kind of dreams he had last night….

He will absolutely 100% not walk past the café today. Tomoyo would notice if he asked her to walk a different route, so he won’t walk with Tomoyo. He can afford to skip his first class. Totally and completely worth it.

“Sorry. It’s what I get for putting the damn paper off so long,” he lies. “I’ll have to head in after I manage to print this out.”

There is no way his sister believes him. He almost expects the searching gaze she subjects him to.

He does not expect her to figure out the reason for his avoidance so quickly, but when she returns home with an empty coffee sleeve, he knows he’s been made.

“I had extra time, so I stopped in that café today. That nice man we always see in the morning was there.” Kurogane can feel his teeth grinding together.

“Of course he was,” he bites.

“He asked me where you were, you know? I told him you put your homework off too long and he agreed you don’t seem like the type.” Great. Okay, he gets it already; she knows this is simply an act of cowardice. “Anyway, he seemed very cute and you did go very red yesterday. So I got his phone number for you.”

…what?

Tomoyo places the sleeve in front of him, facing it so Kurogane can see the digits scrawled beneath a doodle of a winking cat.

He sees a flash of burning-blue in his mind’s eye, the lines of that handsome face—

Where the hell does this asshole get off trying to be so smooth!? Kurogane folds the damn sleeve in half and half again, ignoring the way Tomoyo tuts. He crumples it, tries as hard as he can to put that idiot out of his mind.

(He doesn’t throw it away. )

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

He wakes up in a bad mood. Souma mentioned he missed a pop quiz in the class he skipped yesterday, which is entirely that cute—that jerk’s fault. Tomoyo is miffed at him for ignoring her ‘crucial contributions as a wingman,’ and they’re running a bit late on their way to the subway this morning.

To top it all off, when he makes it within view of the café, blondie is nowhere in sight.

Ugh, just fuck that guy, seriously. It’s the first weekday in nearly three months that asshole hasn’t been out front to watch the two of them walk by. And doesn’t it just figure that today’s the day Kurogane finally thought he might get enough courage to walk up and say something. Of course today’s the day he finally gives up.

He wants to stroll right into that store, get right in that handsome face and say—

Oh.

Oh no.

“No time to pause, big brother, I can’t be late today! Sakura said she got a haircut last night and I have to see!” Tomoyo’s voice shakes him out of his shock. Kurogane stares at her blankly for a moment longer, fingers the thin, folded cardboard in his pocket.

“Go ahead. I’ll take the next train.” He tells her, looking pointedly away. He knows he’s going to catch hell for this at home later, but at least she doesn’t have time to tease him right this instant. She dashes off, braided hair trailing behind her.

Kurogane lifts the cat drawing from his pocket, smooths it, thinks about the looping handwriting of those numbers.

God. Damn it.

He shoves the thing violently back, and furiously j-walks across the street without even bothering to check for cars. He pays no heed to the honking or the angry driver yelling in his wake save to flip them off behind his back, pulls the shop door open with entirely more force than necessary.

The customers in line don’t appreciate him elbowing his way to the barista counter, but they can rot for all he cares. He’d like to see them try something. His mission takes absolute priority.

“Fuck you.”

Finally, Finally, he manages to kick a reaction out of the blond jerk who’s been wordlessly flirting with him for months. Shock fills his pretty eyes, lips quirking into an uncertain, softer smile. He opens his damn mouth and Kurogane knows exactly what the idiot will say.

“Ah, so it is you! I figured you might be the kind of guy obnoxious enough to let ‘fuck you,’ be the first thing you ever say. Do you realize how much trouble your damn words have brought me all these years?”

Doesn’t it just figure that this jerk has a nice voice too?

“About as much as that fucking essay has brought me, I’d assume,” Kurogane drawls, torn between annoyance and elation.

(When blondie laughs and moves in for the kiss he’s been secretly, guiltily dreaming of, he leans toward elation.)

#kurofai #fai d fluorite #kurogane #tsubasa #short fic #soulmate identifying marks #firstwords

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oodlyenough · 7 years

Text

fic: tall flat white

~2k, coffee shop AU (really). Rhys, Fiona & Sasha, gen with a lil bit of one-sided Rhys/Sasha because that’s who I am as a person. also on AO3

entirely the result of a joke conversation with @shinyopals about how to transport a character like handsome jack into something as mundane as a coffee shop and now here we are, 2k words later. also shoutout to this monstrosity.

Fiona was, without a doubt, the worst customer Rhys had ever known.

“Hey,” she announced, a bit too familiar for someone who was, inevitably, about to do something that would jeopardize his job.

He sighed.

“Can I get a….” She leaned heavily across the counter to scan the menu, legs stretched out straight behind her, balanced on the tips of her boots. “Grande vanilla bean frappucino with heavy cream, no ice, no water, no whip, matcha powder, extra caramel drizzle, extra chocolate chips with two shots espresso in a venti cup?”

Rhys narrowed his eyes. “Come on. You don’t actually want that.”

“Sure I do,” said Fiona, with a voice that did nothing to convince him of her sincerity. She slapped a handful of change onto the counter. “Chop chop!”

He scooped the change into his palm. “Hey, this is twenty cents short—”

But she’d already flitted around to wait for her drink at the other side of the counter, so he sighed and dug the missing dimes out of his own pocket instead. Grabbing a cup from the stack, he Sharpied her absurd order on the side along with her name, intentionally misspelled with a Ph in the precise way he knew she hated.

Fiona rifled through the stack of CDs on display, seemingly oblivious to the way her methods left them askew and in need of rearranging.

“Oh yeah,” she called casually, “I left my umbrella here the other day.”

“No, you didn’t.” “Yes I did,” she insisted, the mischievous sparkle in her eyes belying the innocence in her voice. “Did anyone turn it in? It was black, hooked handle, button to open it—” “You’re describing the world’s most generic umbrella. I’ve seen that stupid ‘lifehack’—” “My umbrella’s not creative enough for you? Don’t insult my umbrella.” The sound of the blender drowned out his sigh. “When did you say you left it here?” “Saturday.” At least she’d done that much research. “The big rain storm. Obviously.”

“You weren’t in on Saturday.” “How would you know?” “I was working.” Fiona snorted. “What, all day?”

The truthful answer to that was yes, actually: an excruciating open-to-close shift, for which he had only been paid approximately half. The rest was an off-the-books and probably-illegal favour for the manager that Rhys was really hoping paid off in two months when the next rung on the corporate ladder finally had an opening.

But telling Fiona that didn’t feel like much of a win, so instead he said, “No one turned in any umbrellas, Fiona, better luck next rainstorm,” and plunked her drink on the counter in front of her.

Fiona wrinkled her nose in a pout, which turned to a scowl as she picked up her cup and saw the spelling of her name. Rhys smirked and used a rag to wipe the ring of condensation off the counter, looking to the door just in time to see it open.

Fiona was easily the worst customer Rhys had ever known, but without a doubt the best part of Fiona the customer was that her appearances sometimes guest-starred her younger sister, Sasha.

This, it seemed, was one such lucky visit.

Sasha was beautiful, cool, and brimming with resentment for anyone or anything that might accurately be deemed ‘The Man’, which may or may not include Rhys depending on her mood but absolutely always included his place of employment. She walked through the door, slipped the hood off her head, hooked her headphones around her neck and gravitated across the shop to her sister.

“Hey, Fi,” she said, and then, catching sight of him, added a nod of acknowledgment. “Rhys.”

“Hey,” he croaked. “Hi.”

Fiona’s eyes narrowed suspiciously in his direction.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, hey, so, Sasha, can I get you something?”

She shook her head, the bundle of dreads tied behind her head wobbling as she did so. “I’m good.” She held up a paper coffee cup of her own, emblazoned with the logo of the rival indie cafe down the street. “Fair trade,” she added, a little more pointedly than was probably necessary.

“We’re fair trade,” he said, reflexively and a little bit pathetically, but Sasha only raised an eyebrow.

“Mmm, I know you say that,” she said, almost on the border of pitying before she nudged Fiona with her elbow. “So, I may have committed some light vandalism.”

Fiona’s eyes lit up as much as Rhys’ heart sank.

“Tell me everything,” said Fiona.

“Please tell me it wasn’t here,” said Rhys.

Sasha’s grin turned wicked, the family resemblance between her and Fiona suddenly striking.

“In the parking lot. I may have noticed a certain expensive car with a certain bumper sticker containing a certain slogan for a certain politician, and my keys and I may have tried to redecorate. A little.”

Fiona laughed and gave Sasha an exuberant high-five; Rhys groaned and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“That’s my manager’s car,” he moaned.

Fiona laughed harder at that. “Of course it is.”

Unbothered, Sasha took a sip of her competitor-brand coffee. “Your manager seems like a dick.”

Rhys opened his mouth, considered that there was no contribution he could make to this discussion that wouldn’t jeopardize either his job or Sasha’s esteem, and shut it again.

“Oh, he is a dick,” agreed Fiona. “Like, I bet he’s killed a man.” Rhys rolled his eyes. “What?”

“Have you seen his face? That’s the face of a man who’s watched the life leave someone’s eyes.”

“That’s ridiculous.” “What happened to the guy who used to own this place, eh? Didn’t he disappear?” She wiggled her fingers mysteriously. “I’m just sayin’.” She took a slurp of her frappucino and reached across the counter, slapping Rhys’ arm with enthusiasm. “Oh, oh, tell her what he said about the pipelines.”

It was difficult to ignore Sasha’s expectant gaze.

“I… need to get back to work,” Rhys said lamely. “Yeah, hey, speaking of,” said Fiona, waving her half-finished drink, “this isn’t lactose free, is it?” “You didn’t order lactose free.”

“Sure I did.”

“No, you didn’t! And you barely even paid for the first—” “The customer is always right, Rhys,” she sing-songed. “That’s somewhere in your corporate handbook or personal bible or whatever, right?” She pulled back her half-empty drink as he reached for it. “I’ll keep this one, though. You know.” She sucked noisily on the straw. “Wouldn’t wanna waste it.”

Rhys glared at her, but grabbed an empty cup and started over anyway. “You’re going to get me fired.”

“I’d be doing you a favour,” said Fiona. She pulled the container of sugar packets towards her, arranging several into a tiny house of cards he’d have to rearrange later. “You still putting in hours for free?”

But Sasha was paying attention now, staring at him critically. “They’ve got you working for free? Why would you do that?”

“That’s not… strictly speaking, that’s not, exactly, what—”

“Because he’s a spineless kiss-ass,” Fiona explained, knocking over her sugar tower with one finger.

Sasha put a hand on her hip. “That’s stupid. You don’t owe them anything.”

Having Sasha’s righteous fury aimed in his defense was a little rewarding, if also a little embarrassing.

Fiona, of course, was there to ruin it.

“Oh, but Sash, it’s all about playing the game!” She placed a theatrical hand over her chest. “If he works hard enough and long enough for his douchebag boss maybe one day, seven years from now, he might finally get to be assistant to the regional manager of a soulless franchised multinational coffee chain.” She screwed her face up like she was crying and wiped away an imaginary tear. “Every little boy’s dream.”

Rhys set her new drink down on the counter with enough force that some spilled out the lid. “Very funny.”

“That’s... sad,” said Sasha, looking at him with an expression closer to pity than he would have liked. “You can do better than this place. Aren’t you a techie or something?”

Rhys was not entirely sure whether or not he ought to be flattered, let alone whether or not he was.

“Hey now, easy, Sash, don’t make the delusions of grandeur any worse.” Fiona grabbed at her second drink happily, tossing the now-empty original into the garbage.

Before he could respond to the insult, or even demand she clean up the wreckage of sugar packets she’d left behind, Fiona reached into her pocket and began waving a folded piece of paper between two fingers.

“By the way,” she announced, dropping her voice to a more conspiratory volume. “I may have a copy of next week’s AI design test.”

“What? You’re not even in that class.”

Fiona shrugged elusively. “I know people.” She dangled the paper in front of his face as he tidied the sugar. “You want it?”

He did. AI Design was his hardest class, and his grades were slipping. But he looked at the paper, then looked at Sasha, and then said, “No.”

“Liar.”

“No, no, I don’t, I’m—reformed,” he insisted, unable to stop another furtive glance in Sasha’s direction. Sasha, engrossed in tapping away on her phone, her back against the counter, didn’t notice.

Fiona did. Her eyes went wide with recognition, Rhys felt the colour drain from his face, and Fiona’s eyebrows knit together in a disgusted glare.

Oblivious, Sasha broke the tension by standing up straight and tucking her phone into the pocket of her jeans. “Oh, hey, Fi, gotta run, August’s got some new gear to show me.” She slid the headphones looped around her neck back over her ears and raised a hand to wave casually at Rhys. “Good luck with your murder boss.”

Rhys managed a feeble and silent wave of his own.

Fiona cleared her throat. The angry expression of a second ago had been replaced by a look of false innocence as she sucked on the straw of her drink and waved the paper back and forth between two fingers. He reached for the paper, but Fiona snatched it away, holding out an empty palm instead.

With a defeated groan, Rhys moved to the counter, stuffed an assortment of pastries into a bag, and then thrust the bag into Fiona’s open palm.

“You’re going to get me fired and you’re going to get me expelled,” he complained, but the malice was wearing thin.

Ill-gotten food and drink in one hand, Fiona flashed a self-satisfied smile, winked, and tucked the paper into his apron pocket. “Always a pleasure doing business with you.”

#shinyopals #tales from the borderlands #rhys the company man #fiona the con artist #sasha the kid sister #oodlyenough i write fic #baby's first coffee shop au lmfao

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undeadpsycho13 · 7 years

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a cup of coffee to warm my icy heart

GUYS GUYS GUYS THE COFFEE SHOP AU THINGY IS DONE (first chapt at least. this whole thing is going to be AT LEAST 5 chapters)

imma tag these people, for wonderful awesome ideas: @puzzle-of-life-reason-for-death (for coming up with the headcanon/awesome au), @baitsakhan-adlai (for glaring at me constantly across the room telling me telepathically to hurry up), @13thendgameplayer (for the beautiful pickup lines you supplied, truly they were amazing, i swear to god imma use more of them in the next chapts), @redheaded-sniper-girl (this is to repent my sins, im sry this part wasnt mac’s perspective, i promise at least some of it will be, i hope you like this), and @baitsabeeisreal (bc even tho she didnt really contribute, she’s like the #1 baitsabee fan out there)

okay, yeesh, long boring credits are over, now lets get on with the show!! :D

CHAPTER 1: HOT, DARK, STRONG, JUST LIKE ME

The first time was an accident.

Baitsakhan didn’t really mean to walk into a coffee shop that wasn’t Starbucks, it just kind of happened. His legs kind of just… carried him away from the Starbucks nearest to his house, and since he couldn’t be bothered to walk an extra block to the second closest Starbucks, he decided to try out that shady looking “Endgame” cafe. Edgy name, Baitsakhan thought absent-mindedly. Well, technically he did have reason, and it wasn’t really an accident, but hey, he can’t just say he didn’t want to go back to the Starbucks because he was pissed at the cashier. That Hilal something, who was all about niceness and world peace and all that other nonsensical bull. It just pissed him off, how people could be so cheery and kind. The Incident last week, involving at least a dozen pamphlets on saving the environment and using Baitsakhan as a bulletin board, was the final straw. He couldn’t go back to Starbucks after that, and what right did the world have to take away coffee from a poor, sleep-deprived, coffee-needing teenager, right?

A text lit his phone just when he was about halfway across the street. He ignored the faint vibration. Really, it could only be three people: Jalair, his very over-protective brother who wouldn’t let him do anything remotely fun (“Baitsakhan, what are you doing to that poor kitten?” “Oh, I don’t know, maybe just cutting off his tail with a butter knife if you suddenly went blind today.” “How could you do that to poor Muffin??!!”), his horribly awesomely social sister Sarangerel who had a bajillion times more friends than Baitsakhan (“A bajillion times zero is still zero Baits.” “That’s not my point.”), or his Chinese friend (read: only friend) An Liu (contrary to popular belief, Baitsakhan did have one friend, though even he didn’t care to admit it). Turns out, curiousity got the better of him, and after another five or six continuous obnoxious buzzes (by now he was sure it was Sarangerel), Baitsakhan whipped out his phone angrily, prepared to type out a biting lecture about why friends and family should not double text and annoy the hell out of him in the process, when he realised –– with a frown –– that the number displayed on his phone was an unfamiliar one, labelled neither “Mother-Hen”, nor “Social Butterfly”, nor “Asian Hacker Lovebird”. In fact, the area code displayed it wasn’t even from the area.

And all of them, every single text, was the same thing: bring me the goddamned ice cream. A final: ais ik ur redin these txts topped it off.

The atrocious grammar pissed him off. So did the fact that this person called him freaking Ais. What kind of name was that, anyways? Typing furiously, a long paragraph was added to the message: F off, I’m not Ais. You’ve got the wrong number idiot. Besides, who would give ice cream to you?? Loser. By the way, don’t text me back. Like ever again. Delete this message immediately, or my weird hacker friend will be out to get you and possibly put a bullet through your head with a drone if you don’t. Have a nice life!

Feeling pleased with his impeccable grammar, and his nice little response, Baitsakhan continued along towards the coffee shop. The a hidden speaker above the door emitted a faint ringing noise, which was, too be honest, quite annoying. He didn’t understand how anyone could stand hearing that sound hundreds of times a day. For once, he kind of felt bad for the baristas.

The coffee shop was surprisingly quite crowded, at least compared to what Baitsakhan’s expectations would be. In the far corner, a sturdy-looking dark-skinned girl sat opposite of another one, except slim and of Indian heritage. Closer to the entrance sat a woman, hijab covering half her head, alone, sipping a cup of coffee with an icy expression on her face. Near the cashier, three people were chatting animatedly, a guy with a scar on his face holding hands with a blond girl, sitting across from a pretty Native-American girl.

Baitsakhan made a face. He really should have just sucked it up and settled with Starbucks. All these annoying people… at least the Starbucks was relatively quiet. Sighing, he made a mental note not to come back again, before begrudgingly trudging up to the counter.

The boy standing at the counter was presumably in his late teens, his hair honey colored with streaks of something darker tied up into a short ponytail, displaying a set of silver earrings that contrasted nicely with his immaculate jet-black suit, though steaks of it were already coming loose. It suited him nicely, Baitsakhan couldn’t help but notice. His electric blue eyes, wary like that of a predator’s, flashed eagerly at having another customer, perhaps saving him from his endless boredom. A nonchalant expression crossed his face, followed by a knowing smirk, and then was once again replaced by a mockingly polite look as he called out,

“How may I help you?”

Baitsakhan stared unabashedly at the guy, unamused.

“I thought this was a coffee shop. Get me some goddamned coffee.”

Something akin to surprise appeared in the cashier’s eyes, but like every other emotion quickly disappeared. He probably didn’t get rude comments like this often. Serves him right, thought Baitsakhan, trying to ignore the boy’s undeniable hotness as a feral grin spread across the guy’s face. The name Maccabee was written on a pin proudly hung from the guy’s breast pocket. Baitsakhan duly noted this, for no reason at all. He had no reason to store away this kind of information. He totally wasn’t planning on coming back again.

“Okayyy then,” he drawled, every word unnecessarily lengthened, “How would you like your coffee?”

“Hot, dark, strong.” Baitsakhan had no time for this nonsense.

“Just like me then,” Maccabee said, waggling his eyebrows.

Baitsakhan stared, unimpressed,

“Do you flirt with everything that walks on two legs?”

Again, the guy looks surprised. Probably hasn’t had a pick-up line thrown back at his face before, Baitsakhan thinks with a smirk.

“Nope, just cute ones.”

The barista turned to make the coffee, and thank God he turned to make the coffee, because Baitsakhan has chosen just the right time to have his face turn completely red.

Ugh.

He really should have just gone to Starbucks.

A/N:

cringey title, cringey chapter title, cringey everything… sounds about right

i should have mentioned before, YES I TOTALLY SHIP AN AND BAITS AS A BROTP EVEN THO ITS SUPER WEIRD AND THEY PROB HATE EACH OTHER CANON BUT WHO CARES.

also, sorry about the non-typical depiction of maccabee, i kinda just imagined him with long hair one day and it… kinda spiralled off into the void?? idk. i kinda like it.

ALSO, i sorta maybe incorporated a wrong number!au into this also. sue me, i was playing around with thing and it got outta hand, ok

next chapt will be up by the end of the week (hopefully earlier, i have an hr to write tomorrow, and this chapt only took an hr, so… possibly tomorrow :) no guarantees tho)

#endgame #coffee shop!au #baitsakhan #maccabee #baitsabee #4 life #sarangerel #jalair #an liu #wrong number!au

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