#i am writing the first part where they meet in the coffee shop | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joelmillers-whore · 9 months

Text

Hard Light | Chapter 1

summary: when a new english professor begins teaching your class for the duration of your semester, you can’t help but develop an innocent crush on him. he’s as off-limits as he can be, but that doesn’t deter you in the slightest. after a drunk night, you accidentally email him something that wasn’t intended to ever be seen by anyone. but that doesn’t matter. it triggers a misunderstanding that manifests into an affair with your professor who is twenty years your senior. nothing good could come of this, right?

pairings: professor!joel x college student!reader

word count: 2.2K

series or one-shot

warnings: 18+ explicit, minors DNI, no mention of Y/N, alternate universe, professor/student relationship, eventual smut, self-esteem issues, workaholic, joel x female!reader, infatuation bordering on obsession (stay delulu friends), some sexual thoughts, masturbation (f), joel being a huge tease lol, (will add more tags as i write)

AN: i am so excited by the response that my joel one-shot got a few days ago and i’ve been itching to get something else out to you all. big, giant forehead kisses for those who want one, i love you all. so, anyway, a mini-series about professor joel is coming at you fast. i’ve written the first few chapters, so expect those in the near future. i’m thinking once a week? this fic is going to be something else and i’m so excited to share it with ya’ll. enjoy, and let me know what you think. find my ao3 here for more content and other fandoms.

You were running late for your shift at the coffee shop on campus, rummaging around your dresser, trying to find the low-cut black top you always wore when you had a shift. You weren’t usually one to feed into the peer pressure of those around you, but push came to shove when you found it nearly impossible to keep yourself afloat as a twenty-something student without the added extra tips from your part-time job.

So what if you had to show a little bit of cleavage? Right? There was no harm. Student loans were a bitch and on top of rent and food costs, you had to get a job at the coffee shop and balance a full course load just to make ends meet.

A thought popped into your head and you rushed to your laptop, throwing it open as you checked the time; 5:45 AM. If you busted out your lightning-fast typing skills, you would have enough time to catch the next bus and make it to campus with five minutes to spare. If only your crappy second-hand computer would work.

The thing honestly sounded like a chopper engine, getting ready for lift-off. You were surprised you’d gotten this far with it. Not that you weren’t appreciative, your older brother had passed it down and it had relieved a huge weight— and expense off of your shoulders.

You tabbed into your school portal, typing in your credentials and selecting your English course. You sighed heavily, as you skimmed over the assignment for this week, something to do with a sonnet that you couldn’t care less about. You loved school but ever since becoming an English major, the spark that you once had for literature sort of just evaporated.

You couldn’t tell if it was because of how busy you were with everything else that you just couldn’t find the time to enjoy it, or the thought that really scared you, you had fallen out of love with it.

It had been two years of go, go, go and you were, for lack of a better word, burnt out. You’d tried dropping courses last semester, thinking that you just needed a little bit of ease when it came to your course load, but when that didn’t solve the problem and only made things worse for you, you spent the last two semesters trying to catch up and get yourself to a place where you could finally breathe.

But it wasn’t easy. You were only now caught up to where you had been, the illusion that you were someone who could afford to take time off and slow down was a distant memory.

In bold letters, the words Paid Internship jumped off of the screen. You smiled as you leaned in closer to the screen, making sure you read through everything correctly. This was the break above the surface that you needed, the reprieve that you had been chasing. A paid internship was exactly how you’d be able to make more money and maybe have a little breathing room before you worked yourself into an early grave.

You clicked the mail icon at the top and clicked into a new email, deciding that the worst-case scenario was that you wouldn’t get the internship. All you were doing was inquiring about the application process. Best-case scenario; you’d get it and make some extra pocket money.

You saw the time, cursing under your breath as you slammed the laptop closed, grabbed your phone out of the charger and ran out of the door. You couldn’t be late, not again. You texted your co-worker Jeremy to open the shop without you and explained to him that you were running a few minutes late, as you barely made it to the bus. You climbed on board, scanned your student pass and found a seat near the back. Your chest was burning from the rush of trying to make it on time, but you could breathe easy now.

You checked your messages mindlessly, scrolling through a bunch of unread ones that you didn’t have the heart to answer.

Before you knew it, the familiar monuments and buildings of UT Austin came into view, and the subtle change of scenery from downtown to a more densely packed area made your heart skip a beat. It was the same each time you were back on campus. Which, these days, was often. Sliding out of the seat, you made your way to the front, thanking the driver as the bus came to a complete stop.

The coffee shop was only a short walk from the bus stop but even still you quickened your pace. You didn't want to leave Jeremy alone for long, you already felt bad enough about letting him open by himself. You stifled a yawn as you pushed open the door to the small cafe, leaning your body into the door, slightly cringing at the shrill sound of the bell.

"There you are", a male voice called, making your head snap up. You wiggled your nose, the familiar timbre of your ex-boyfriend's voice ringing in your ears. "It's about time you got your ass down here".

You snickered, shrugging your heavy bag off of your shoulder, and dropping it behind the counter, turning around and greeting him with an unamused smirk.

Jeremy and you had gone out for a few months last year, it was your first and, as of right now, the only short-term relationship that you'd had in college.

Dating your co-worker, even in a relatively small place like the coffee shop on campus, almost always spelled trouble, but Jeremy was not the type to hold something like a failed relationship over your head. He understood that school was a priority for you and making a living for yourself came first, even above something like a relationship. It might not be the healthiest way to live, but it was how it always was.

Jeremy and you had developed a fast friendship, one that went beyond the romantic relationship that you'd had last year. You parted amicably and now, you had someone you could confide in, someone you could trust.

"Why don't you say that to my face?", you teased, raising a brow at him over the milk frother you were setting up.

Jeremy threw his rag down and stalked over to you. "You're snippy this morning", he chided.

You banged into his shoulder playfully, "Doesn't help that I have to see your ugly mug first thing in the morning".

You snorted out a laugh and Jeremy looked at you, feigning defensiveness, "Ouch", he paused, returning back to his post near the coffee machine, "Remind me how we ever went out?".

You scrunched your nose and threw your rag at Jeremy, hitting him square in the face with it, "That was rude".

He shrugged his shoulder, "You started it".

You both devolved into a fit of giggles and fell into a comfortable silence, setting up and getting the coffee shop ready for the day. You had a half-day shift to look forward to and then you had class until the late afternoon. The days were long and the nights were longer.

You usually found yourself nose-deep in your textbooks, more often than not, or some classic novel that was required for class, not moving from the couch until your eyes were red and you were seeing double.

Only then did you retire to sleep, crashing hard until you had to wake up and do it all again the next day.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The coffee shop had been bustling with people since six in the morning, and at one in the afternoon, it hadn't let up, only now you had to go to class. Waving Jeremy goodbye, you sidestepped Tara, the fourth-year who was covering the rest of the afternoon and closing shift.

You'd crossed the far side of campus, passing by the science building and one of the massive libraries that had acted like a second home to you back when you’d been studying for exams when you were a freshman. You could thank your obnoxious roommates for that one.

Entering the lecture hall, bodies pressed into you as you weaved through the growing crowd, trying to find a spot in the middle where you could see and hear your English professor. But also blend in with the masses. As if the universe had other plans in mind, and everyone suddenly showed up to the Tuesday lecture all at the same time, you found yourself picking a seat near the front, an exasperated groan leaving you.

You hated sitting at the front, not because you didn't want to get called on to answer something or because you didn't know the answers, but because you did. You wanted to get through your four years as quickly and unscathed as possible and if people knew, mainly professors, that you knew more about the subject matter than you needed to, you'd surely get called on more often, making you stick out in ways you didn't want.

It was a terrible curse, going through life with the self-esteem that you did. But it was how you were raised. Blend in. Don't be too loud. Be quiet and only observe. Nerves rapped at your insides when you thought about getting called on when class started. Your heart rate ticked up and you found that your hands were beginning to get clammy, your throat constricting with each breath.

You rubbed your hands up and down your thighs, grounding yourself with the sensation of the material.

With a jump, you sat up straighter in your seat, being jostled from your thoughts by a loud slam. You snapped your head toward the entrance, eying the person who had startled everyone. It was a man carrying a briefcase.

Your lips tilted up at the edges, amusement tickling you when you thought of anyone using a briefcase nowadays. But here this man was, head down as he made his way to the front of the room, toward the desk.

You couldn't help keeping your eyes trained on him. On how his slacks tightened around his butt, moulding to the shape and curve of it. You bit your bottom lip out of reflex, your eyes dragging down the length of the mystery man who had crashed your lecture. Maybe he was a TA? Your brows furrowed when you thought about how your professor was nowhere in sight.

The man with the briefcase placed his case on the desk, turning to face the audience of students who blinked back at him, who now settled down enough to hear him speak. Air caught in your throat when his eyes flicked momentarily to you, and lingered on you for half a second longer than you'd expected. He had massive, warm brown eyes, and soft wrinkles that danced at the edges of his eyes when he smiled, making him seem more boyish than he appeared.

He looked older than a TA would but then again, who were you to judge someone's position in life? You thought that his age did nothing to undermine just how attractive he was, if anything it added to it.

The man, who may or may not have been moonlighting as your English TA cleared his throat, nodding his head, "My name is Joel, well, Professor Miller to most, but 've always been a little bit more informal than my peers".

He began to circle the wooden desk nervously, his large hand finding the edge of it and stroking it far more sensually than necessary. You flexed your fingers, gripping the arm of your seat to stabilize yourself. "So, you can call me Joel from here on out... since we'll be seeing more of each other from now on".

Murmurs began to break out around the lecture hall, and confused and hushed whispers followed.

Professor Miller— Joel, mumbled something incoherent, and you were unable to hear it from where you sat. He cleared his throat again, "Professor McCarthy has taken a leave of absence, so I'll be filling in for him for the remainder of the semester".

You crossed your legs, feeling heat rise and a furious blush break out across your face, and shuffled in your seat, a loud creak emitted from it and you stilled, praying that the loud sound had only been heard by you and no one else. But when you lifted your gaze, Joel's eyes were already locked on you, blown and brimming with cautious inquiry. A touch of a smirk graced his lips.

"And I look forward to getting to know each and every one of you, personally". His eyes were still on you, not ready to release you from their hold.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips and you couldn't help but stare. You had every reason to look away from him, he was your professor and given the clear age difference, he was someone who was off limits. But when he didn't look away from you either, trapping you with his gaze, your face heated up, suddenly aware that he was purposely staring at you.

You swallowed thickly, heart hammering as Joel's eyes finally drifted away from you and back to the faces of your classmates. He continued on with addressing the class, and you noticed that he avoided your eyes for the rest of the lecture.

Only one thought rang through your mind as you tried and failed to focus back on the lecture. This was going to be one long semester.

471 notes · View notes

plush-rabbit · 1 year

Text

It's Always Coffee

Request: Hello!!! I was wondering if you could write a like enemies to lovers between The spot before he becomes The spot (so basically Jonathann Ohnn) where the reader is a journalist who is investigating what is going on at Alchemax? And it would be nice if in the end you could include a part whit the reader and The Spot after he becomes it. Thank you so much!! <3

A/N: I’m on a fucking high for this guy!! Hope you like it<3 (this isnt necessarily an enemies to lovers but its something!!)

Word Count: 3.2K

You sit at an empty chair pushed against the wall of the coffee shop, your gaze focused on the screen of the laptop, the cursor blinking as the words stop. The bell dings, and you look up, catching a look of a familiar doctor walking up to the counter and fumbling with his wallet to pay. You smile, keeping your eye on him, a part of you hoping that he would turn around and see you.

No doubt feeling the gaze of someone on him, he peers around as his transaction ends. His eyes meet yours and your grin stretches, a cheeky grin stretching over your features. You wave at him, dropping your gaze to return to your work, a newfound hit of inspiration causing you to type away at the keyboard.

Keeping your attention on the screen, you bite down the smile as someone takes a seat in the chair next to you. You can feel his gaze on you, and you keep your gaze focused on the screen. The cursor stops and blinks at you, and as you type, your backspace, unable to make the sentence flow as you’d like. With a sigh, you grab your drink and take a sip.

“Are you following me?” He asks, and finally you turn to face the doctor.

“You know, a hello is usually a common way to greet people, Dr. Ohnn.” You place your cup down, turning your attention towards him. He narrows his eyes at you. “Technically, I should be asking you that. I was the first one here. If anything, I should be accusing you of following me.” He stays silent and you smile at him. “I can assure you that I am not following you. Honestly, I didn’t even think you knew about this place. You seem more like the type to make your drinks at home.”

He pulls his lips into a line and fixes himself in his seat. “Usually, I am. I only recently found this shop. It’s one of the few shops that offers distinct blends of coffee.” You snort and he shoots you a pointed look.

You hold your hands in front of you in mock defense, closing them and returning them to your keyboard. You don’t miss the glance that he gives to your screen. “I never took you to be such a connoisseur of coffee,” you admit. “How long have you been frequenting this place?”

He stays silent, and turns his attention to where the baristas work behind the counter. “Past two weeks,” he tells you, returning his gaze to look at you.

“Ah,” you sigh. “I found this place maybe a month ago.”

“I didn’t know you enjoyed coffee,” he admits.

You shrug. “I’m a reporter. It’s kinda in the requirements to enjoy coffee.”

Silence befalls between the two of you, and he turns his attention to where the baristas work. Your fingers dance over your keyboard. You chew on the inside of your cheek when you feel his gaze on you once more. He turns to look at your screen where you type, fingers slowing down as you turn to look at him with an expecting grin. “Can I help you, Dr. Ohnn?”

He doesn’t look the slightest bit embarrassed about being caught, instead, he shoots you a narrowed look. “What are you writing about?”

“If you must know-” his eyes dart over the words, and you grab the top of your laptop, pulling it down to block him from reading any further- “it’s about a local animal shelter.” You lift the screen back to its standing position, and take a sip of your drink. He huffs and looks away, crossing a leg over the other. You take a peek through your peripheral vision, and return to typing. “The shelter is doing a little event where you can walk or play with an animal for an hour, and each person will receive a five-dollar gift card to a coffee shop.”

“Oh.” He clears his throat. “That sounds nice.”

You scoff out a laugh. “Does that satiate your curiosity?” Your fingers tap over the keys as you try to come up with the finishing sentence. “Honestly, no wonder you dislike me when I question you as you do your job.” You give him a teasing smile, and he straightens, pushing up his glasses from the bottom rim with his knuckle.

“I don’t-” he clears his throat at your expectant gaze and shakes his head. “What coffee shop is allowing that? I’d assume it would have to be a local one.”

“You’re correct.” You point at him, pulling away from your screen and leaning against the back of the chair. You tilt your head, raising your brows at him with your smile growing. “Wanna wager on it? If you guess the shop, I’ll buy a coffee from there.”

“Do you know how many coffee shops are in this area alone?” He glowers at you, uncrossing his legs and leaning back against the chair. “Unless I have unlimited guesses, I won’t be able to figure it out in such a short amount of time.”

You hum, turning to look at your screen. You click your tongue and tap a finger against your chin.”Okay,” you draw out, “I’ll give you a hint.” You turn to look back at him, arms crossed over your chest. “It’s one of the only shops around that offers such distinct blends of coffee,” you raise the pitch of your voice, an awful attempt at mimicking the words once said,

“I do not sound like that,” he pouts.

You snicker, dropping your head and giving him a wide grin. “Ah, so you’ve guessed it?”

He turns his head, and back at you. “Obviously,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Why would this place partner with a random shelter?”

“The shelter is a family friend with the owner from here,” you explain. “So they partnered up since the shelter is low on staff.” You grab your drink, swishing the liquid around. “It’s a nice idea-” you place your drink back down- “and they have ads placed all over, so I’m hoping that this article just boosts it up a bit more, you know.”

“Will you be participating?” he asks.

“Probably not,” you answer. “I like animals as much as the next person, but I get attached much too fast.” You turn to him. “I don’t think I could part with a dog. What about you?”

Dr. Ohnn lifts a hand, twirling a strand of hair around his finger before letting it fall back into place. “Probably not. As is, I don’t have the time to myself. What little time I do have, I much prefer to spend it by myself.”

“You’re worked to the bone, huh?” You give him a sad smile, turning your attention back to the screen. You feel his eyes on you. “That blows.” He says nothing. “I get it. You enjoy what you can. In this case, while it’s a noble cause, it’s definitely more for the people who have the time.” You turn to him. “And those who enjoy coffee.”

“I hope your article is able to put the word out,” he tells you without a hint of sarcasm laced into his words. Your ankles cross, and you pull them close to the underside of the chair.

“Yeah-” you backspace a word, only to rewrite it- “me too.”

You hear his name get called, and the both of you turn to where a barista places the drink on the counter. He stands, and stays in front of his seat. Craning his neck, he looks to you, and you blink up at him.

“Hey, you already paid for your drink, I can’t cover this one,” you say, raising your hands in front of you. “Maybe next time?”

“Next time?”

Another name is called, and in the corner of your eyes, you watch as the person scurries to pick up their drink. “Sure. Next time,” you confirm. You suck in a breath, and hold your drink in your hand, nerves causing your stomach to flip upon itself. “I’m uh, free tomorrow.”

He frowns. “I’m not.”

You cringe upon yourself, and bite the inside corners of your lips to stop from wincing. “Then, whenever. Or I could just pay you now for your drink. I think that’ll even it out. That way we won’t have to meet again.”

“No,” he blurts out. You look at him with raised brows. “I’d rather meet. I did win your little wager,” he says. “I’ll try to find time.” He bites his bottom lip, and clears his throat. “I believe I’m owed that after all.”

Hope makes your heartbeat quicken, and you can’t stop the smile that grows. “Okay. You’re welcome to sit by me if you’re not in a rush.” He stutters for a second, and you smile up at him. “Relax. I won’t question you. For now.” He pulls a face and you let out a small laugh. “It’s a joke. We can just be two people who met at a coffee shop. Not a reporter or scientist, just me and you.”

Without an answer, he walks towards the counter, and you watch his movement. You watch as he grabs the cup and places the rim against his lips. You watch as he pulls out his phone, and looks to the door and looks back at you. You aren’t sure what’s compelled you to invite the scientist to sit with you- it isn’t as if the two of you are friends, or anything of the sort. However, in the short conversation where work for you and annoyance for him was absent, you enjoyed talking to him. Just a bit. Not enough to admit it, but enough to invite him to sit with you. He turns a foot towards the door, and you give him a final smile, raising your hand in a goodbye, looking down at your screen.

It’s no bother. All you really are to him is a reporter with pestering questions about his line of work, it would be a no-brainer as to why he wouldn’t want to sit with you. However, it doesn’t stop the disappointment that weighs you down. You write the last sentence of the article and sigh.

Someone sits by you, and you give a glance, lifting yourself straight when you find the scientist perched at the seat, holding his drink in his hand with his body turned towards you.

“Are you almost done with your article?” You nod, glancing back down to save the file despite the automatic save feature working on its own. “Good, good.” He turns to look at the door, and back to you. “Would you like to go for a walk?”

You close your laptop, and hold it by the edges. “As a reporter and a scientist? Or as-”

“As me and you.” His feet tap against the floor. “I understand if you’re busy or-”

“I’d love to go for a walk.” You hadn’t realized how tense he was, until his shoulders fall at your words, a small smile tilting the corners of his lips upwards. “You got an idea of where to go or do you want to walk aimlessly?” You grab your messenger bag, delicately placing your laptop into its designated sleeve.

You follow behind him, clutching your nearly empty drink in your hand. Your bag pats against your side, and you bend to walk underneath his arm as he holds the door open.

“You’re supposed to wait for the door to open fully,” he tells you, fixing the sleeves of the black undershirt.

“And you’re supposed to answer someone’s question before walking away, Dr. Ohnn.” You pull yourself straight. “Guess we both have some learning to do.” He rolls his eyes, and continues forward, and you follow behind him.

The air is warm- not uncomfortably so, but enough to know that summer is creeping in. You smile at people who you make eye contact with. Dr. Ohnn walks without saying a word, but when you stray far too behind to peer into a window full of jewelry, he walks back to you.

“I didn’t take you for a jewelry person,” he admits.

“I’m not usually,” you answer, “but I have to admit that some of it is pretty.” You straighten yourself and look at him through the reflection. “I much prefer dainty types of jewelry. What about you?” His brows furrow at the window, and you take his answer through the reflection. “Are you a jewelry person?”

“I’m a fan of watches, does that count?”

“Huh,” you click your tongue. “I think so.” Pulling away from the window, you walk down the crowded street. Soon enough, he walks beside you again. “I never really could find a watch that suited me.” You flex out your hand and twist at your wrist. “I think I’m just bad at choosing things.”

“How do you tell time then?”

You let out a small laugh. “Dr. Ohnn, we live in a place where most people have cell phones.” His shoulders perk at the words, and a flush deepens the hue on his face. “I’ll manage to tell time without a watch.” You take a sip of your drink, and all that remains is ice and a bottom rim of a watered down version of your drink. “I’m not sure how you’ll manage, though.” You exchange the cup to your other hand and raise your now free hand, flexing your wrist. “Naked wrist and all.” You jerk your head over to his, and he covers it with his hand.

“I forgot,” he answers defensively. “Simple mistake. Anyone could have made it.” He clears his throat, and takes a swig at his drink.

“Oh, I’m sure,” you tease.

Peeking a trash can further up ahead and no longer wanting to hold your cup for the next few minutes, you rush forward to toss your drink. You dart through the crowd, mumbling apologies and sticking your tongue out a person who mutters a curse towards you. Tossing your drink into the trash, you wait for Dr. Ohnn to catch up to you. He stands by you, downing the drink before tossing the empty cup into the trash.

“Why’d you want to work for Fisk anyways?” He gives you a look. “Off the record, I swear!” You raise your hands in front of you in mock surrender. “I’m curious. You’re a scientist, and I’m positive you’re good at your job. So why work for him? Why not work for anyone else?”

“Why write articles?” You frown at him for avoiding your questions. “Plenty of others do it. Plenty of other agencies will offer to help you write the story you so desperately chase. So why stick to that one agency?”

“Okay, Dr. Ohnn. I’ll let you escape answering my questions, only-” you point your index finger at him- “and only because I’m feeling quite open to speaking. If you must know why I stick to my agency, I do it because I’m familiar with it.” He stops for a second, and continues his strides. “I like it there. Fluff pieces and all. We can’t all be journalists willing to die for a story, and while I’m very curious about what you do, I am willing to at least push the limits of how far I can go.” You look at him. “It’s not the most meaningful sentiment, but it’s mine, so if you make fun of it-” you falter, unable to come up with some threat- “I won’t buy you your coffee,” you conclude with the threat. You begin to pull away, one step in front of him when he stops you.

“I wouldn’t make fun of you,” he says with his hand wrapped around your elbow.

“Oh,” your voice comes out softer than intended. You turn to give a weak cough. “Cool. Thanks. I guess you get to keep your free coffee then.”

“You think I’m good at my job?”

You smile at him, and standing on the sidewalk- even if pushed close to the building- does the two of you no favors. A stranger rushes by, and you’re pushed closer to him. The grip on his elbow tightens, and you take note of his hand. His fingers are long, and thick, and they hold onto you tightly, nails scratching at your skin. You turn your gaze.

“Yes, and before we get shoved again, let’s continue walking.” You pull ahead, and his grip on your arm falls. Turning your head to make sure that he’s behind you, you start. “I do think you’re good at your job. That’s why I try to do mine.” You give him a glance, and smooth out your shirt. “It is how it is. Too bad you’re good at it, you had to meet me.”

“What else?” He asks and you tilt your head at him. “What else do you think of my work?”

“I don’t know. I tried to read the papers that you’ve written along with a few other scientists that study along the same lines, but it was all words to me. No offense.” You give him an apologetic smile. “I’m sure you know what you’re talking about, and in some pages, I could feel the excitement, ya know? Like- Like when you started to talk about black holes and stuff. Were you always interested in stuff like that?”

His hand reaches to the back of his neck and he scratches at himself. “Mm, not necessarily black holes, but other stuff. One thing led to another.” He turns a corner and you follow close behind, catching at every word that escapes from him. “Not many people outside of my profession read what I have to offer,” he says in a low voice. “Thank you,” he says your name gently and you can feel heat burn at the shell of your ears.

“Yeah, no problem. It was a long read, but um- it was interesting and stuff.” You try to stop the grin that grows, and tug on the strap of your messenger bag. “If you have the time, I wouldn’t mind-” You're cut off by a phone ringing and you stay silent, watching as he pats his pockets.

“Ah,” he pulls out his phone and quickly reads the message. Looking back up at you, he seems almost apologetic. “I apologize. I- I have to go. Something work related just came up.” He lifts his phone as proof, but you can’t read the words with the glare of the sun. “We’ll continue this later?”

The words take a second to process, and when they do, you can feel your heart race. “Oh!” You perk up. “Yeah- yeah, of course.” He smiles at you, and takes a step forward. He’s close enough where you can smell the cologne on him. “Um-” his voice squeaks, and he clears his throat. He lifts a hand and pats at your shoulder. “This was fun. Thank you for accompanying me on the walk.” He gives you a tense smile and walks away without a goodbye.

You stand on the sidewalk and watch. He turns around, and you lift your hand in a wave, and he does the same.

You frown when you realize you never received his number.

422 notes · View notes

ham1lton · 5 days

Text

list of upcoming works! ♡

any requested works have a ♥︎ besides them <3

— author’s note: i may be changing my list of drivers i am writing for but i will honour any requests made prior. so keep an eye on my guidelines for when i open requests again! also i’m posting these so i actually do them. let me know which one you’re feeling the most! and i’ll push it to the top of the list.

welcome to miami - maneater post.

-> after the miami grand prix, you and some of your fellow drivers go out for karaoke and drinks for ‘bonding’ according to a certain lando norris.

good old fashioned lover boy! - lando norris smau ♥︎

faceclaim: woo da-vi.

-> lando is in love. his girlfriend is the perfect girl in every way possible, except for one thing: she’s a pescatarian, and lando hates fish.

diet mountain dew - aka wet dreamz 2.0 ♥︎ (might be split into two parts)

-> older just men do it better.

kiss it better baby - lewis hamilton smau ♥︎

faceclaim: rihanna

-> the two of you have known each for almost two decades now, and the rumour mill has been working overtime about your alleged relationship. after years of denial, your relationship is exposed after lewis’ grand prix win.

don’t trust the bitch in apt 33! - max verstappen smau ♥︎

-> your new monaco apartment is amazing. it’s close to your friends, family and work, it has incredible amenities and your neighbours for the most part seem kind. the only issue is your upstairs neighbour, who games all night and sleeps all day, and is insufferably loud while doing it.

if we were a movie - charles leclerc smau ♥︎

faceclaim: zendaya.

-> need for speed, out in cinemas feb 31st 2026, follows emma, a coffee shop owner, who falls in love with christopher, a formula one driver. the film’s marketing manager decides to take you and your co-stars to the next f1 race where you meet the original inspiration for christopher and maybe, find a love story of your own.

just a normal girl - charles leclerc smau

-> just a normal girl is a stand-up netflix comedy special performed by actress and comedienne y/n l/n in which she discusses her childhood, her horrible first meeting with her boyfriend and being a twenty something in london.

she became a victim to my busy schedule - oscar piastri angst.

-> all your life, you’ve been known as oscar’s girlfriend and for a while, you were content with that. yet for him, it's hard juggling a girlfriend and a burgeoning racing career. unbeknownst to you, he’s already made his choice.

the princess diaries - charles leclerc smau.

-> it’s one thing finding out you’re the crown princess of a small country and it’s another thing to figure it all out while ignoring the totally hot monegasque ambassador. — based on this drabble.

— then i’m finally going to finish the 500 followers celebration at some point. i promise!!! 😭

#ham1lton updates ♧#formula one x reader #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #oscar piastri x reader

80 notes · View notes

angel-kyo · 7 months

Text

Okay, so it's probably just too late to get it out of my head now. I think I am obsessed with writing him obliviously obsessed.

Warnings: Mentions of obsessive/stalkerish behavior and invasion of privacy.

I guess this is a second part to this: Part I

^--------------------------------------------------------

ObsessedSatoru who randomly passes by your house on the days and the hours he knows you should be there. He tells himself he just cares about you and wants to make sure you made it home and the lights are on.

ObsessedSatoru who wonders if you are okay when you fail to attend the bakery one Friday. "I just wanted something sweet before starting the weekend", you had told him once, and he couldn't agree more. Seeing you was sweet for him too. Since that day, it had become some sort of tradition meeting you there on Fridays. Why would you not show up? This changes the script a bit, he thought.

ObsessedSatoru whose first thought is that you may be still at work but changes his mind after making a quick call to your workplace and having no one pick up. So they are closed already? Any other day he had wanted to check, he had called and spoken a few words to the receptionist. 'A nice woman', you had told him once, 'she won't leave until all of us have left the office.'

ObsessedSatoru who decides to check your home in case you had headed there earlier. Confusion, disappointment and worry, exactly in that order, bloomed in his head when he saw the lights off. A quick inspection inside confirmed you were indeed not there.

ObsessedSatoru who has memorized your weekly schedule as well as his own. He knew you were free that night and had planned for the two of you to not so casually meet after work. He would then have persuaded you into grabbing dinner with him and asked you to go out the following day on a 'friendly date' to try a new coffee shop, nothing out of the ordinary, although he was actually planning for something a bit more elaborate than just coffee this time.

ObsessedSatoru who calls you to ask if you are free for dinner right now. A direct call had not been part of his plan. He knew you were most likely to agree if spoken with in person, but he figured it was the fastest way to reach you.

ObsessedSatoru who frowns lightly at you not picking up. Were you busy? With what? Not at work, not at home and he was sure you had no plans for tonight. You had his number and would usually pick up quick enough. Had you ignored him? No, he didn't want to think like that. Maybe lost your phone? He wanted to call again, but wouldn't that be too pushy? No, he was your friend, so it should be okay, right?

ObsessedSatoru whose mood lightened when you call him instead. "Satoru? Sorry, for not picking up before." He could almost hear your apologetic smile. "Is everything okay?"

"Are you home yet?" Maybe he was being too forward, but wasn't he always? And his tone was as friendly as it had always been with you. Still, he felt funny asking such a question in the middle of your living room. He knew you were not home. "If you're free, do you want to grab dinner?"

You went silent for a bit, and he heard some voices in the background. Maybe you were busy after all.

He was going to ask you where you were, but you spoke sooner. "Sorry, we went out for dinner with some colleagues. Maybe..."

"What about tomorrow?", he interrupted. He could still save his plan.

You were hesitating. This is what he feared. "Sure, we can do something tomorrow."

Score. If you could only see the smile you put on his face.

ObsessedSatoru who ponders whether or not he should come back to your house later while eating his dinner alone. 'We went out for dinner with some colleagues.' He didn't know much about the people you worked with. Maybe he should fix that. Just for safety. You can never know these days, right?

ObsessedSatoru who decided to check on you and smiles when he sees you entering your home from afar. You are okay, so he can go to sleep soundly now.

ObsessedSatoru who plans one of the most exhausting 'dates' you have ever been on. 'What should we do next?', he kept saying, coming up with more things to do every hour just because he did not want your time together to end. Not that he would admit that though.

ObsessedSatoru who invites you to his place after the rain caught you at the festival where he had taken you. Contrary to what you may have thought, he keeps a neat apartment. "So neat that it is almost as if you didn't live here", you had said with a smile. He took it as a compliment.

ObsessedSatoru who laughs it off when you mention you buy the same shower gel as him after using his bathroom. What a coincidence that he also seems to like the same brand of coffee as you, no? "Great minds think alike", he grins as he pours your cup. If you looked through in his fridge and cabinets, you would probably find more 'coincidences'. Right, maybe his most recent grocery lists had been slightly inspired by his findings in your home. But he liked you, in the friendliest of ways, of course. What could be wrong with wanting to try the same things you seemed to like?

ObsessedSatoru who thinks there is only one thing in the whole apartment he doesn't want you to see: the bottle of perfume in the drawer of his nightstand. It was the same you wore almost every day. The same you were wearing when he met you and the same you had worn today. He had bought it on a whim a few weeks ago, when he passed by a store and suddenly thought he had smelled you. A silly buy, nothing more, but he knew that could make you raise an eyebrow.

ObsessedSatoru who keeps his eyes on you without realizing he is staring and blushes lightly when you put your cup of coffee down and speak in the most serious tone "You have been staring. Are you obsessed with me or something?" Your expression immediately changes when his eyes widen. You laugh at his reaction.

ObsessedSatoru who laughs too, but maybe he is being completely sincere when he replies "How could I not be?"

#jjk #gojo headcanons #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #obsessed gojo #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk drabbles #obsession #jjk gojo

195 notes · View notes

zbwor1d · 1 year

Text

Zb1 members as love tropes<3

🤍 pairing : zb1 members x genderneutral!reader

🤍 warning : cursing, not proofread

🤍 genre : fluff cuz thats all i know what to write, a bit of angst in gyuvin's

🤍 word count : idk tbh sorry

♡kim jiwoong

fake relationship

you were in a same acting project

while practicing the script together, he proposed the idea first

saying that it would help with the chemistry between you two

"are you serious?" you hesitated.

"yeah, what could go wrong?" he simply replied with his sexy ass eyes

after shooting for couple scenes, both of you start to get confused with the relationship

it felt REALLLL

he asked you to meet after the shooting

"i think," he started. "i think, you know, i might fall in love with the idea of us"

♡zhang hao

soulmate

you were sitting down in the corner of a coffee shop, reading the same page of the book over and over

all because of the overly handsome guy who was sitting across the coffee shop, doing something on his macbook

you swear you could feel him in your memories

while sipping your tea, you try to steal another glance, but he already looking at you

it made you jumped on your chair, frantically trying to flip trough the pages of the book in your hands

you had your head down, eyes focusing on the book hoping that he wont catch you staring

but then, you heard the chair moves, footsteps getting close

"fuck im fucked" you cursed under your breath

"im sorry to disturb you," he softly knocked on your table, "have we met before?"

"huh?" thats what im thinking! you thought

"i know its weird but i think we might have history? i dont know but i could feel you somewhere in my memories but cant pinpoint where" he let out an awkward chuckle

you smiled, amazed by the situation, "its crazy cuz i feel the same too"

"uh, then, can i sit here with you?"

♡sung hanbin

summer's fling

you decided to have a vacation at a beach for the whole summer

everything was doing great, especially with your crazy good looking tourist guide

he was sweet, funny, great at making coffee and got really attractive when his on the surfing board

you two were having popsicles

"have you ever surfed?" he popped a question

"surf? i've never... isn't it kinda scary?" you replied

"well, at first, it was. but then it became my comfort activity. i can teach you"

then here you are, face being hit by the waves countless of time

"it's hard! i think i have low iron or something, i can't stand on this thing" you sulked

he giggled "you're just scared. come on its okay, im here for you, to hold your hand" gazing your eyes

the silence was too loud and your cheeks is burning hot in the summer heat

you avoided his gaze

he smirked "and for the whole summer too"

♡seok matthew

first love

you two were 18

and he was your class monitor

he was the brightest and it was hard to not fall in love

you were having the fattest crush on him and it was kinda- no, really obvious, your friend said

during the midterm exam, you blew off the test so bad

"yo, mr.park wants you at his table" your classmate informed

upon entering the teachers' room, you were a bit taken aback seeing matthew was there too

it was embarrassing to have your crush watching you being nagged for your bad test result

"honestly i don't know what is wrong with you, but if this happen again next exam, you might just give up college" mr.park sighed "but i am a responsible teacher, i wouldn't let that happen. hence, this is why our matthew is here"

"pardon sir?" you heard him, just need confirmation

"2 or 3 month tutoring is not that bad right? i heard our guy here is very good at teaching, right?" mr.park said

during the first tutor was very nerve wrecking, you didn't want your feelings get to him

"are you okay? you look a bit tense" he asked

"i- im f- fine, yeah"

"really? wanna stop a second?"

"no- i really don't understand this part" you quickly changing the subject

"oh this one? let me see" he scooted closer to you

and your reflex was to get away from him, resulting to you falling off the chair

"woah im sorry! you okay?" he went to help you get up, resulting you to slide away from his touch

"i- im okay!" you said, avoiding him

poor boy was confused

but then it kinda clicked, "you really like me that much?" he smiled, "i thought i was the only one who likes you" he confessed

♡kim taerae

love at first sight

you were going out to relieve your stress

just walking around the city

and then you heard a beautiful voice singing accompanying the guitar sounds

you walked to the voice and saw a man doing a busking with lots of people surrounding him

at one point, he smiled so brightly and sweetly that your heart couldn't handle it

while you were falling in love with his smile and voice, he just happened to look at you and his smile brighten

you stayed until the show was over

he started to tidy up his equipments but halted when he saw you

"oh, you... you stayed till the end?"

"yeah..., you have such a sweet voice, and smile"

he smiled again, "ah, i get that a lot"

you said without skipping a beat, just following your thoughts "can i have your number?"

♡shen ricky

childhood friends

you two weren't the closest friends, but for some reason, you had a lot of memories together as a child

you parted ways when high school started, he started to get famous and you just there, being the outsider

but once college life started, you two were miraculously got into the same university

both of you still didn't talk to each other, just smiles and awkward hi's when crossing paths

but one day, while you were eating alone in the cafeteria, he made his way to you

"hey, can i sit here?"

glancing to all the empty spaces in the cafeteria, you replied "yeah"

putting down his food, he started "it has been a while right?"

"i know" you continued "i saw you come to school with different sport car everyday"

"oh, you've been stalking me?" he teased

"wha- no! im just- you're every girl's topic, it's impossible to ignore" you were taken aback

he smirked, "ah the girls, were you jealous?"

you scoffed in desbelief "why- i- you acted like you don't know me wrong the whole 4 years and-"

"i wanna know all about you now" he cut off

♡kim gyuvin

enemies to lovers

you don't know when it started, but the tension between you two are always tense

he just know how to make you mad in every way possible

but in the end, its him you seek comfort to

one day your group friends were having a visit to the amusement park

but eventually all of them can't make it, leaving you two to enjoy the fun

"why is it always you" you sigh

he scoffed "huh, you really think i want to hang out with you? make it make sense."

but not wanting to waste the precious ticket, you guys decided just to take the roller coaster ride

but boy is scared asf

unconsciously, he grabbed your hand and held it the whole ride

after the ride, you seriously wanted to make a hideous remark to his situation that moment but he was really sick

he silently sat down to the nearest wall, head pulled all the way down

feeling a bit worried, you asked "hey, you okay?"

"i told you i hate these rides" he replied with a small voice

"i- im sorry, i didnt know that" you hesitated, but eventually have him small pats on his back

to your shock, he suddenly hugged you

"shut up, i really needed this" he reasoned

"you scaredy baby" you smiled, putting your chin on his head

♡park gunwook

bestfriends to lovers

it was raining hard and you guys were stuck in a convenience store

boy was craving some ramyeon so he called you to go for a midnight run

"i know it was already a bad idea when you ring me at 1 in the morning" you sighed

"well, at least we can eat ramyeon" he responded

looking at your dispirited expression, another stupid idea popped out of his head

he grinned,"hey, wanna do something fun?"

he grabbed your wrist and started to bolt out of the store

"WTF ARE YOU DOING" you screamed after being greeted by the heavy rains

"AINT THIS IS FUN" he screamed back

you two laughed and continue to run aimlessly, hand in hand

after a while, you two sit in the rain, and he looked at you, asking for eye contact

he smiled and you replied his smile

"i love you" he confessed

♡han yujin

boy next door

it has been 2 years since you moved in the current house

but it was kinda hard to be close with the neighbors, everyone was busy with their lifes

but every morning before going to school, you always meet this beautiful boy that lives one unit below you

you two would exchange smiles and nods and thats it

but one day, he knocked your door

"he- hey" he shyly greeted

"oh, um yeah why..?" this is bizarre

"im sorry but do you have some salt..?" he asked

"some what?"

"ah," he scratched his head "i tried cooking and i just realized i dont have... you know, uhh... salt."

you went in the get some salt

"here you go" you smiled "you need more help?"

he hesitated for a second

"oh its oka- i mean- i think i need some help, the bacon is kinda burnt.." he let out an awkward chuckle

ah, yeah of course lets go save the bacon" you laughed

while going to his house, he said "just saying, but i've been wanting to talk to you" he shyly confessed

p/s : yeah i was inspired by Love Struck in the City for shanbin's and Have We Met Before by Sarah Barrios for matthew's ngehngeh plz do send me ideas for me to writes more! -inha🍒

302 notes · View notes

jammingjaem · 6 months

Text

dream store

9. alexa, play hold me tight by bts

PAIRING | lee haechan x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS | rising up in the music industry as a young songwriter and producer, you wouldn’t think that you’d get hired by sm entertainment and write a song for your favorite group. although there was one downfall: you don’t think making music makes you happy anymore. but the endearing and charismatic lee haechan has swept you off of your feet. and here you’re asking yourself— what are you waiting for in life?

in the last three weeks, y/n became a real part of nct dream’s group. at first, they were just working together, but now you could tell that they were more than that. laughs during meetings and shared jokes created a bond beyond just being an artist working with a producer. nct dream welcomed y/n warmly, and they all felt like good friends, they understood the friendship that aespa has with her.

while y/n got to know each member’s unique qualities, the friendships definitely went beyond just professional connections. they became genuine friends who supported each other in and out of work.

but lately, something changed in how y/n interacted with the group. without intending to, she found herself spending more time with haechan. it wasn’t a conscious choice to favor him; it just happened naturally. haechan promised y/n that he was going to help her with the song, and he’s been hanging out with her more than the other members. for the past two weeks, y/n and haechan had common interests, shared humor, and an unspoken understanding that made haechan someone she could rely on during downtime. the two found themselves hanging out late at night, either talking in y/n’s favorite coffee shop, tiffin, or around the han river where haechan showed the girl his favorite street food stalls.

haechan with his infectious energy and laid-back nature, became someone that y/n became close to. whether they were talking about work, tv shows, or just some things that happened within the days they hung out, their conversations flowed easily. it wasn’t that y/n meant to exclude the other members; but the connection with haechan just felt like an unexpected but appreciated discovery. when y/n wasn’t with the girls of aespa, she was with haechan.

as they sat by the han river under the night sky, the city lights painting a beautiful backdrop, y/n couldn’t help but think about the past weeks. the friendship that was being formed with nct dream was something she holds onto dearly, but the connection with haechan had a unique quality. the late-night talks and shared moments unintentionally made her closer to him, making him someone y/n turned to more often than the other boys.

under the moon’s gentle glow, y/n contemplated some thoughts. the glittering lights on the han river added to the peaceful atmosphere as they sat on a bench, the clock ticking past 1:40 am. y/n finally gathered the courage to share a struggle.

“hey, can i tell you something?” y/n pipes up, making haechan hum, and she looks over to him, clearing her throat, “i’ll be completely honest with you… but… i’ve been struggling lately,” she began, making him look over to her. “i mean, i work as a musician, right?” he nods his head at her, “i’m always surrounded by people who love listening to and making music… but? i? i’m not so happy making music anymore.”

concern filled haechan’s eyes as he asked, “what do you mean? music has always been something you enjoyed.”

y/n sighed, her gaze fixed on the river. “it used to be. but lately, it feels like i’m trapped in a cycle of expectations. i’ve lost the joy, and that’s why i’m facing this writer’s block. i haven’t released anything in ages— hell, i didn’t even mean to say yes to writing nct dream a song.” she snorts.

haechan took a moment to absorb her words. “wow. y/n, had no idea you were going through this. thanks for trusting me with it.”

y/n nodded, grateful for haechan’s understanding. “i just want to love creating music again, but it’s become a source of stress instead, i’m stalling my work! what am i doing with myself? this isn’t me?”

haechan leaned back, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. “you know— you’re not alone in feeling that way. sometimes, we get so caught up in expectations that we forget why we started.”

y/n looked at him, shocked. “how do you deal with it, haechan? have you ever felt like your passion was slipping away?”

haechan hesitated before answering. “yeah, i have. there are moments when i question if i’m on the right path. but then, i remember why i started. it’s about expressing myself, connecting with people through music.”

nodding, y/n absorbed his words. “it’s like i’ve lost that connection. i want to find it again, as corny as it may sound.”

haechan smiled warmly. “don’t be so hard on yourself. it’s not corny! you will find it again, i promise you.” he tilts his head, “i think that yoj just need to take a step back, rediscover why you wanted to have this career. it might take time, but you’re most likely going to get there."

as the conversation unfolded, their connection deepened further. haechan cleared his throat, deciding to also show his vulnerability, sharing, “you know, y/n, i have my fears too. there’s always this fear of not being enough, not meeting expectations.”

listening intently, y/n reassured him, “you, not enough?” she scoffed, making him smile in amusement, “you are incredibly talented and genuine. you bring so much to nct dream and your solo work.”

haechan chuckled nervously. “hey! it’s not that simple. i have dreams and fears just like anyone else. there’s this constant pressure to excel, to keep up with expectations, and sometimes it’s overwhelming… look at me. tired and overworked.”

y/n placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “hey, you’re allowed to have fears. it doesn’t diminish your talent or who you are. in fact, it makes you more relatable.”

he smiled, “i worry about losing touch with who i am during all of this. it’s a challenge to stay true to myself when i’m going back and forth with my units.”

y/n nodded, understanding the struggle. “ i guess it’s something we all face. but you’re lucky. you’ve got people who care about you, who see you beyond the performer. you’re more than your achievements and expectations.” the two stayed silent for about two minutes, enjoying the silence.

haechan pipes up immediately, “you know, it’s refreshing to have these conversations.“ he tells her, reaching over to hold her hand comfortingly, “i’m glad i’m not alone,” he nudges her arm, looking at her, “as corny as that may sound.”

y/n laughs at him, “thanks for listening to me, haechan.”

haechan grinned, “thank you for trusting me.” he let go of her hand, “and thank you for listening too.”

previous | masterlist | next

TAGLIST (open.) | @celestialsluvrs @cosmicwintr @suzayaaa @polarisjisung @i-lovegood @jinsoul-gf @fullsunahceah @renjunniex @wonkivrse @en-gelic @tywritesstuff @jenodreamer @haechansbbg @miyawwn @n0hyuck @222brainrot @ur-purin @dinonuguaegi @replayenthusiast @i6renj @giaccolo @nanawrlds @multifandomania06 @jeongintwt @luv4jeno @lelengerine @gomdojun @yeppietennie @jaeimjaemin @thisisnotjacinta @hugs2doie @mystverse @jjaeyuns @rksbae @x-jaehyunluvr-x @bunchofroses07 @darlingz99 @yv72s @lixizpixi @ggukkiedae @cupidsmoons

125 notes · View notes

mrsshabana · 3 months

Note

Hi hi!! So I really like your headcanon that Gyutaro is hard of hearing, but what do you think if he had an s/o who was semi verbal and could communicate in sign language? Do you think Gyu knows any sign language? If not then his s/o could teach him? :0

best wishes, Mrs Shabana!

-Ryan 🪼

𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐒𝐞𝐦𝐢-𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x gender!neutral!Reader, modern au, fluff ꒦꒷‧₊ Note I love this idea, and I am going to be writing about modern Gyutaro for this one since it wasn't specified. Hope that's alright!

You stood out to Gyutaro ever since you first met. He thought you were cute and the way you looked at him caused his cheeks to turn pink. You looked at him like he was special, like he was worth smiling at even though you didn't know him.

Never in his life has he outwardly approached someone he felt attracted to, but he felt like he had to with you. Your aura was so inviting and warm, he felt safe enough to do so.

Instantly there was an obstacle. Gyutaro didn't know any sign language. But he wasn't going to let that stop him.

At first, he would mostly communicate with you through text. And once you talked enough to the point where he felt like you liked him as much as he liked you, he'd invite you to hang out in person.

Even though you liked Gyutaro, a part of you wanted to decline. You were afraid of what it would be like since he didn't know any sign language. How would you communicate? Would it be awkward? Would it be so bad that he wouldn't like you anymore?

You texted Gyutaro back, telling him your concerns. And all he said was, "Then teach me."

And that's how the two of you got closer. You'd meet Gyutaro at a coffee shop, or at a park if the weather was nice, and teach him sign language.

He had a difficult time picking it up at first, but he was determined. After your sessions together he'd go home and study for hours. He'd even practice signing curse words to his sister when she'd piss him off.

And if anyone even so much as looked at you wrong, he'd tell them off. Sometimes even threatening them, especially if he hears them talking about you, thinking that he can't hear them because he's signing with you. He's extremely protective of you. And he will not hesitate to fight someone who disrespects you.

It's interesting to you how violent he can be towards others. Yet he treats you like a delicate flower, always so sweet and kind towards you.

As soon as he learns how to ask you to be his partner, he asks. And that same night, Gyutaro secretly learns how to sign "I love you," so he can say it to you when the time is right. He practices signing it every night, thinking about that day, hoping that you'll sign it back.

#gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #gyuutarou #gyuutarou x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 ʚ♡ɞ

129 notes · View notes

tenjiiku · 10 months

Text

21 : only

The chime of the shop rings with prominence. You already know who it is without lifting your gaze from your newspaper.

“Darling, love of my life, fire of my heart,” The man sings — an annoying, sickly sweet tone — his volume increasing as he glides his way to the front reception desk, “The machine is broken again.”

You cough, adjusting your newspaper. He is so abnormally tall his hair is all you can see from your periphery. Why he presents himself in such a way you never want to know.

“Then go to another laundromat,” you murmur quickly. You have grown accustomed to dismissing his outlandish behaviour. It is a second instinct at this point.

“Nah. I wouldn’t receive such service anywhere else — you are special, you know? One of a kind.”

You choke a little at his hoax of his compliment, “You make me sick.”

A large hand puts your newspaper down. You allow it, only because you wanted this interaction to end. Even seated on a swivel chair, elevated to its highest position, you have to crane your head a little to meet him in the eye. You see yourself in the reflection of the dark glasses he cunningly chooses to wear inside.

When you scowl he returns it with a cheshire grin.

“Thank you. You’re too sweet.”

“What do you want, Satoru?” You do not use his last name or any honorific to address him despite his age. He was older than you by a few years — but certainly did not act the part — so you do not think he deserves your respect. Your host father told you he does — something about his being from a prominent private school as an educator, which you cannot possibly fathom being the truth. But only in front of you is Satoru Gojo an inane, odd man with a need for clean, dry-cleaned clothes that, for some strange reason he has conjectured in his equally baffling mind, only you can provide.

“You.”

The wrinkle that had formed between your brows drops in less than a second. This was the typical routine. You would get annoyed — and he would get a sick kick from that. You refused to be his entertainment, so, for once you decide to be the bigger person.

“My friend is a police officer. He is five minutes away,” you retort, not being the bigger person. Though actions did speak louder than words.

Satoru places his elbow on the desk. He has to bend his back in an uncomfortable manner to do so — and he leans his face on his palm which only makes the position and his stature appear more cretinous and acute.

“You’re pretty when you’re angry, do you know?”

“Go die.” (You are being a bigger person today only through your actions. Not your words, you quickly decide.)

“Can you let me buy you a coffee? Put me out of my misery?”

“Leave me alone. I will scream for A-chan.” (Your dog, sleeping peacefully somewhere in a corner near the dryers.)

“Awh,” he coos, tilting his head only more. You wonder if he has back problems. “That’s vulgar. I thought you were a good girl.”

At this, you flounder. Fisting your hands together, you rub at your forehead. Satoru possessed the putrid ability to irk you like no other. You look down at your textbook — you were on chapter five, studying deadlock before he came — and it was certainly fitting given his arrival.

“I am. For people I can tolerate.” You retort, monotone to not please his sadism.

He smiles anyways and leans forward, gazing towards where you look — a few sheets of loose-leaf paper with your begrimed writing. You can catch a glimpse of his azure coloured eyes through his lashes from this angle. At first they scared you. It was an utter oddity to you — you had seen nothing as strange from all your years tending to this run-down laundromat. People who came and went were not as nearly as fascinating as Satoru Gojo’s eye colour, unfortunately, but that was not to say they were not as interesting. Odd characters entered every now and then considering your laundromat being less than 5 metres away from a graveyard — which only begged the existence of Satoru all together.

Perhaps he was visiting someone every time he came. You liked to make stories of customers who you would encounter. That was Satoru’s because you could not think of anything else.

You never asked, he never said. This was how it went.

“What’s all this?” He questions, his tone softer than usual. You feel his eyes travel to your right shoulder, making you self-conscious.

For a second you think he knows of the pain you have been feeling there.

You shake your head of the plausibility.

“Homework,” you reply, curt and straight, adjusting your posture in your seat as a sudden wave of bashfulness has overcome you.

“For what?”

“My operating systems class.”

Satoru coos — treating you like you are some sort of stray cat when he is the one encroaching on your property. “Sounds hard. You’re real smart, then?”

You look up, mouth falling into a line as you mumble a small, “Yeah.”

You want this conversation to come to an end. But Satoru liked to season his prey and you were not an exception. You remember encountering one of his students once — you think their name was Megumi — who had told you to steer clear of Satoru if you wanted your sanity to remain intact. It was solid advice, the only possibility it did not cover was Satoru forcing himself in front of you no matter what turn you took.

“You have to give me something to work with here,” he moans dramatically.

You take some money from the tip jar and hold it out in front of him as an incentive.

“I’ll pay you ¥800 to leave me alone?”

Satoru takes the money, but he doesn’t leave.

“You’re a tough one, aren’t you?” He sneers at you. You crack your shoulders and decide to get started on the problem at hand because at this rate you will never finish your homework.

Walking towards the washers, you start speaking, not looking behind you to see if he is following because you already know he is.

“I don’t have time for this. Which machine isn’t operating?”

For once in his life, maybe out of the glory that overcame him from getting the upper hand on you once again, he complies.

“Third washer on the left, near the door.”

You walk towards it. Satoru stands next to you. His clothes float in a puddle that has formed within the washer — a drainage problem. Taking his clothes out of it, you rinse the soaked water in the sink and place them in another washer. If he chose to use half his brain he could have solved this himself. But after observing his smiles from your periphery and through the reflection of the glass door you come to realize he is enjoying himself.

An hour comes and go. Satoru talks your ear off at the reception even as others come and go. He puts his wet clothes in the dryer and folds them when they are finished, into a duffel bag.

When he stands in front of you, silent for the first time since his arrival, you know he is about to leave. You always give him a nice goodbye.

“Time for your weekly departure? Please do not bring clothes stained with blood to be dry cleaned next time. Mother almost fainted last week and is growing suspicious.”

Satoru smiles at you which lets you know that he understands your joke. He is handsome but he is nothing of your world, you realize. He only ever exists within the four wall of your parent’s laundromat and will only ever smell of floral detergent. It was better this way, you think.

“Awh. You’re worried for me?”

Your lips lay flat and you look down at your textbook.

“Have a nice day as well,” he murmurs, low. It catches you by surprise. When you lift your head up, he is already gone.

The pain on your right shoulder has stopped when the chime of the door opening and closing rings.

You pretend to ignore it — the feeling of his eyes and the growing aches surfacing within you — and go back to studying.

Satoru waits five minutes after he has left you to acknowledge his student following him. He stops near the abandoned phone booth he had found you sulking in two weeks prior — curled up with your legs tucked to your chest — pondering on about nonsensical things.

It was not the worst of the side effects you possessed after leaving your clan years ago and starting a new life with the Kobayashi’s at their laundromat.

“Megumi-chan, care to join me?”

He smiles when he sees his student scowl at him and he only continues to walk as he catches up.

“Why do you insist on pestering her? You know she will never remember. Yaga-san will be mad,” his student asserts after meeting his shoulders

Satoru does not answer right away. He recalls a fragment of a memory from his childhood. He had been doted on since his birth. You were a refreshing rarity, always hoping for a life greater than the one you were subjugated to — the daughter of a lowly maid, a normal girl for all purposes yet never treated as such. He remembers a small conversation you shared for less than a minute when he was only eight years old and you were five — how one day you wanted to be able to go to Hokkaido for the ice sculpture festival during the Winter. It was such a naive thing to aspire for. A cruel irony, really, that you still remained the same after so many years.

A snowflake falls towards Satoru’s shoe, but never quite graces its body.

Slinging an arm around his student, he answers brazenly, “I don’t know. I suppose I’m bored these days. Entertain me.”

#writing #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x female reader #Unfortunately this lunatic still has his grip on me.

283 notes · View notes

brummiereader · 1 year

Text

Hi everyone, this is my first time posting and my first time writing a fanfic. But here I am, inspired to write something after reading so many amazing Peaky Blinders fics on here. This is a bit of an out there story, think Peaky Blinders meets time travel, supernatural themes, the modern world, gypsy magic and very unusual circumstances to the start of a relationship. A quick thank you again to @cillmequick for proof reading my story and giving me the courage to post it.

A Ghost Of A Man (PART ONE)

Summary: Reader discovers a curious looking folder full of information on a Small Heath gang from the 1900's. After digging for more information she encounters someone or something in an abandoned building.

Warnings: Language, supernatural themes

Growing up close to Birmingham you had always felt drawn to the famous west midlands city. So drawn to it that you decided to enrol in the history course Birmingham University had to offer. You had a passion in particular for local history and books, you knew so much about the city, and one day you hoped to work in its biggest library. But it was not only history you had a passion for but also antiques. You would often visit small antique shops around the city, certain objects catching your eye, taking them home, then spending countless hours researching the object trying to find out the history behind it. You had quite the collection of items now, taking up the majority of space in your flat that you shared with your friend. Your friend Louise was also a student in history, you met Fresher's week at Uni, and after getting along so well you both decided to ditch student accommodation and rent out a flat together in and old house just outside Birmingham city center. You called it a flat because you didn't know what else to call it. It was more of a converted attic in an old house, the ceilings were low and the floorboards creaked no matter where you stepped but it was worth it, worth it for the vast view of old rooftops with their decaying chimneys, and the remnants of buildings from Birmingham's industrial past that seemed to go on as far as the eye could see. You would often find yourself sitting in the large armchair that occupied the spot next to the small round window in your bedroom, gazing out at the bricked buildings you wondered what life was truly like a hundred years ago in this city. You would get so lost in your thoughts looking out the window that you would often get this overwhelming feeling like you were not supposed to be here, you were living a life that was yours but in the wrong era, it was overpowering at times. You always put it down to your passion for the past and your longing to experience life in a different time. But was it?

It was Sunday, a day you enjoyed the most. Why? Because it was the day you would drag your friend to the antique markets. She loved history but was baffled why a 20 something year old girl would love old dusty smelly objects that in her opinion were better of in the bin.

"Come on Louise, please?"

"Jesus Y/N, don't you have enough old crap?"

" Erh no never...plus I have been waiting for this particular antique fair all year, everyone's hyped for it"

"Hyped for it? Do 70 plus year olds get hyped for things?" Your friend asked with a laugh.

" I'll have you know there are plenty of younger people that go to these markets, it's quite boujee nowadays to decorate your place with little antique nick nacks here and there"

" Boujee" She laughed "fine but you owe me a coffee and the biggest slice of cake available. Why is this one so special compared to the hundreds of others we go to every year?" She said trying to hide her laugh.

" Well...this antique fair will probably never happen again, its only antiques collected from one particular area of Birmingham, Small Heath"

You saw the flyer for the event on your way to Uni one day. After checking online for more information you knew you couldn't miss it, it was a one off event. Apparently the building everything had been stored in for over a hundred years had been brought by property developers and they wanted to get rid of it all, and quickly. The collection was supposed to be sold off to a museum but when the museum decided they no longer wanted to buy the lot of items it was left to collect dust, now everything had to go. Online it stated that there would be all sorts of items from local businesses to household items, clothes, jewelry, books, old newspapers, documents and furniture. You had to go.

Living in Sparkhill not far from Small Heath you decided to take public transport. After a short bus ride you made it to the antique fair. It was already pretty busy and much to your friends amusement you was indeed the only ones attending that weren't over the age of 60.

" Don't say anything" you mumbled to her.

" Are you sure your not from a different century? " She laughed.

Rolling your eyes grumbling to yourself you started to browse the tables. You was amazed at how well preserved everything was. There was everything you could think of for sale, a lot of it out of your price range but you couldn't help but lose yourself looking through it all.

" Y/N, come look at this old pub stuff" your friend called over.

" The Garrison? Do you think that was the name of the pub" you said looking at a large wooden plaque with the name written across it.

" Must be... Ooh! look at these old whiskey glasses, how much are these? She asked the man behind the table.

" For a set of four, 10 quid love"

" You don't even drink whiskey" you leaned into her and whispered.

"I'll take them. She nodded to to the seller. " Well I can put some Bailey's in them, that's close enough right?"

Shaking your head laughing you wandered off to the next stall. Bending down looking into a box you saw some old documents in a paper folder tied together with a red string "The Peaky Blinders ".

" Can I open this ?" you asked the woman.

" Go ahead darling" she nodded.

Opening it up you came across newspaper articles, business documents, police reports and one name In particular that kept popping up, Thomas Shelby. Quickly skimming over an article It talked about a razor gang called the Peaky Blinders based in Small Heath and the leader of that gang was one Mr Thomas Shelby. You were intrigued.

" How much for everything?" You asked.

" For you my lovely 20 pound"

A little pricey you thought, considering you could probably find all this information for free at the Sparkhill library you worked part time at but these were the original documents and newspaper clippings so you decided to go ahead and buy them.

"What did you find?" your friend asked while looking through some old books.

" This old folder about a razor gang that used to operate around here in the early 20th century"

" Riveting" She laughed.

" Ha.ha, I thought it would be a good idea for our latest Uni assignment"

" When our lecturer told us to pick a prominent figure that helped in the building of Birmingham's industrial and economical past I don't think he ment a razor gang Y/N" she laughed.

" It's still interesting though, could be a different take on the assignment? From what I have read so far this Thomas Shelby sounds like a dangerous man"

" I guess it is, if you like bad boys right?" She giggled linking arms with you as you both continued to look through the stalls.

"Wow Louise look at this necklace" you said as you beckoned your friend over with your hand.

"That's beautiful Y/N, you should get it"

The necklace itself was a small gold locket, turning it over there was the engraved initials M.S.

"I wonder who M.S was?" You asked your friend.

"Don't know" she said brushing her thumb over the engraving" but I'm sure with your research skills you will find out"

You continued to look at the locket, you tried opening it but it appeared to be jammed. Just as you was examining the locket for any damage an older lady appeared next to you. Her hands were adorned with rings and she had a curious looking necklace hanging around her neck, noticing you looking at it she spoke to you.

"It's the black Madonna" she said pressing the palm of her hand on it smiling to you. "It keeps me safe".

"It's beautifull, I've never seen anything like it" you said looking at her. She looked familiar, but you couldn't figure out where you had seen her before.

"You should get that" she said putting a friendly hand on your arm.

"Sorry?" You replied confused.

"The gold locket" she said opening your clasped hand around it. "It belongs with you" she said as she closed your hand around it again.

"I'm sorry, have I met you before? You look so familiar" you said as her piercing blue eyes looked deep into yours.

Shaking her head she smiled sweetly. "Maybe we knew eachother in another life"

Smiling back you opened your hand and looked at the locket nestled in your palm. She was right it did feel like it belonged to you, you couldn't explain it, you was drawn to it.

"I think I will get it" you said to the seller.

Turning to face the old lady, she was still looking at you, when you noticed a small tear in the corner of her eye.

"Thank you for convincing me, I'll treasure it" you said, slightly worried that you had upset this dear old lady somehow.

Patting your arm she turned and walked away giving you one last endearing smile.

"Who was that?" Asked your friend

" I don't know, but I feel like I know her from somewhere" you said your eyes following her as she disappeared through the market.

You continued looking through the antique fair for another hour, nothing else catching your eye you both decided to go have some lunch.

A few hours later you arrived back home. Going straight to your bedroom, you looked at your new locket and decided to try it on. It sat perfectly in the middle of your chest, you smiled at yourself in the mirror slightly adjusting it to make it straight. Sitting on your bed you opened up the folder you brought and started to read through everything.

How had you never heard of this gang? You thought to yourself. You knew almost everything about Birmingham's past. These documents looked official though, like someone was collecting information on them. Maybe they were never ment to be seen by anyone. Which begged the question how did they end up in a box at an antique fair? Feeling tired and overwhelmed with information you closed the folder deciding to research through the archives at work tomorrow.

The next day at work on your break you logged onto your computer. Clicking on archives you started typing key words into the search bar. Peaky Blinders, Birmingham razor gang, Shelby family, Small heath gang, Watery lane betting shop, Shelby company limited, Thomas Shelby. But nothing, nothing came up. One last go you thought to yourself, and you typed T.Shelby. There was one link, a death certificate. Clicking on it, you realised it was a death certificate for Thomas Michael Shelby born January 1890 death February 1922 Small Heath, Birmingham. It didn't state how he died, but mentally calculating his birth date and death date you realised he died pretty young. You was so intrigued by this gang, if you was going to use them for your assignment you needed to know more. Slightly frustrated with the lack of anymore information, you decided to dig deeper.

"Janette?" You said calling over to your boss." Will you do me a huge favour?" You said with pleading eyes.

"What do you need now?" she said as she crossed her arms with a slight chuckle.

"Can I have access to the Birmingham Journal newspaper archives"

"What year?"

"1922"

"We should have them upstairs in the storage room, but first things first are you going to tell me what your looking for?" your boss asked curiously.

"I'm doing research on this gang for Uni, the leader Thomas Shelby died in 1922 but on his death certificate it doesn't say how, don't you find that weird?"

"It's not that unusual, if he was part of a gang the authorities would have probably tried to cover it up, I mean I wouldn't be surprised if the police were on his payroll" she laughed raising her eyebrows. "Go on then, just be careful those books are very old, we really need to photocopy them onto the online database, I've told Richard plenty of tim..." She trailed off as she walked away still talking to herself.

Up in the storage room you was losing hope, you had already gone through two very large books filled with news articles from 1922. Pulling out the the third book from the shelf you let out a big sigh. Turning to the first page the article talked about an Italian gang and a man called Darby Sabini "wrong gang" you huffed. Ten pages later at the bottom corner of a newspaper was a short article. " Birmingham gang leader from small heath killed by rival gang". This has to be it you thought. It didn't specify it was the Peaky Blinders gang, but how many other gangs could there have been in Small Heath? It stated that... "The leader of the notorious Small Heath gang had been beaten within an inch of his life in an alleyway by a rumoured rival Italian gang, and was later found dead slumped in his office chair". You sat back in your chair sighing "Jesus Christ, what a way to go" you said aloud. He must have made his way back to his office, and died right there at his desk you thought. Curious you decided to find out where his office was located. After a few minutes of searching you found it on the online property census under the name "T.S Offices". It was close to the city center not far from Small Health. Checking the bus route online you realised the bus to his office passed right by Watery Lane.

Looking up at the clock, only 10 minutes left untill the library closes you said to yourself. Tapping your pen on the desk, fiddling with your new gold locket you was getting agitated, was you really going to do this? It was a pretty morbid thing to do, visiting the place where someone had died, but you had invested so much time into knowing about this man's life. You knew who his family was, that he served in the first world war, that he had an illegal betting shop heck you even knew where he brought his suits from, although you questioned if he actually brought them. You had read everything in that folder you found at the antique fair, tried to find anything on the online databases, you needed a conclusion to his story.

Finally it was five o'clock, packing up your things and turning off the front desk computer you hurried out the library waving goodbye to your colleagues. Walking to take the bus it finally occured to you that the office building was probably no longer there or had been converted into a block of flats. Stopping you started to turn around away from the bus stop, this was stupid, what was you doing you thought to yourself. Then you stoped again walking back to the bus stop then turning around again you walked away, you must have looked like a mad woman to anybody passing by. With a huge huff you psyched yourself up and headed back to the bus stop just in time for the bus. After a ten minute ride you arrived at your stop.

" Excuse me, excuse me!" You waved over to an elderly man on the opposite side of the road.

" I'm trying to find the old T.S offices? "

" Just around the corner love" he pointed to his right

" Thanks" you shouted back heading in that direction.

Turning the corner, you was now on a long road, each side of you were tall red bricked buildings. The direction to Thomas Shelby's office was down that very same street and then as you turn the corner on the left hand side it should be there. Walking down the street a strange feeling came over you, you thought about turning back until you came to the end of the road and saw it. It was still there, the building was still there, you couldn't believe it. It looked completely abandoned, a few windows smashed in and tall metal gates surrounding it with a sign saying "Keep out. Private property". Without even thinking you opened the bottom of the two metal gates being held together with a large metal chain and padlock and slid between them. It was pretty obvious others had been here before, a few beer bottles lying on the grass and some graffiti on the large wooden front door. You pushed with as much force as you could and opened the door. Stumbling in you first came across a large wooden staircase, on your left was an empty room so you decided to head up stairs. As you got to the top the first thing you noticed was that there was still some old furniture, desks facing opposite eachother, one even having an old type writer still on it. Paper was scattered all over the old floorboards and the paint on the walls was chipped and falling off. Picking up one of the papers it read at the top "Shelby Company Limited", you was definitely in the right place.

At the end of the room was a large door, that had to be his office you thought. Making your way over to the door that uneasy feeling started to creep up again, swallowing it down you opened the door. Inside was a large wooden desk and chair, walking over to the desk you brushed your fingers along the back of the leather chair. "Jesus Christ, it's cold In here" you whispered closing your cardigan around you. The windows were not broken in here though, why was it so cold? It was mid January, but wasn't a particularly cold day. Standing facing the window you exhaled out a breath of condensation. Rubbing your arms trying to warm yourself up, you looked down and noticed another piece of paper, it looked like a letter and was signed in hand "Thomas Shelby". Picking it up you sighed " So this is where you took your final breath Thomas Shelby".

Folding up the paper and putting it in your pocket you started to smell something strange a mix of tobacco and what you thought was whiskey. What the fuck you thought to yourself. Then you realised...shit, your not alone. You hadn't turned around from the window since picking up the letter, and you knew that when you would, you'd come face to face with the other person in this room. Slowly turning around your eyes on the floor, with your hands raised up shaking you spoke "I'm sorry...i'm sorry, I kno...know I shouldn't be in here". Your eyes still on the floor you was now facing the doorway, slowly lifting your gaze you noticed two black boots stood in-between the door frame, a long black coat resting against each side of the figures legs. As your eyes moved up you noticed the dark figures hands in their trouser pockets and a gold pocket watch chain attached to their waistcoat. Shaking you finally looked straight ahead of you, and there was a man with a lit cigarette in his mouth and a peaked cap shadowing his face. As he looked up his pale almost sickly white face came into your vision, a look of pure anger and malice spread across his face. His piercing pale blue eyes stared deep into yours, until in a dark deep husky voice he spoke...

"Who the fuck are you?"

NEXT PART

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder fanfic

361 notes · View notes

knightyoomyoui · 5 months

Text

TWICE x M Reader - "Cry For Me": PART 3

One more one-shot before I spend the rest of the days remaining before 2023 ends! This took 8 months after I last published the previous chapter, and I apologize for the delay caused by my lack of motivation to write and bunch of important tasks to do both in my private space and my campus. I recommend that yall read the first 2 parts before proceeding to this one so it can help yall remember what happened in this ongoing multi-part story. Enjoy reading and have a happy Christmas season everyone!

Here's my Ko-fi account where you can drop your donations or ask for a commission. You can check it out on my Tumblr profile too! Buy knightyoomyoui a Coffee. ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui - Ko-fi ❤️ Where creators get support from fans through donations, memberships, shop sales and more! The original 'Buy Me a Coffee' Page. Previously on TWICE x M Reader - [Cry For Me] : PART 2

Nayeon opens her bag and takes out her camera. She turns it on and scrolls down on the gallery and paused at the exceptional picture that when she shows it toher, it won't need any further explanations to spill in addition. "I must say, he did kept you out from it. Although, having an eyes is useless when your mind is blind... and that what he is." Nayeon then gave the camera to Tzuyu and watched her look at it horribly. "I know it's not the perfect thing you want to see, but I have to remind to you again Tzuyu. You agreed to help me, I'm just doing to favor in return. This is one of my ways. I'm going to open your eyes and see the reality. Especially... when the truth is right there to set you free." In the middle of the night, sounds of helpless, broken and grieving screams and cries can be heard in the Chou residence. Despite of the exhausted eyes, Tzuyu's tears still pours out from her eyes one after the another until she finally burst out in loud sobs. She pounded the bed, raked her hair aggressively and threw all her pillows with her clenched fists in all anger, rage and devastation. She remained suffering inside the darkness as the image of you and Momo kissing outside of the gym earlier continues to intensify the pain in her heart and mind while her vengeful state becomes intensified.

The next morning, Jeongyeon and Nayeon had breakfast at a neighboring café in Jeongyeon's neighborhood. In an attempt to lighten the mood, they engaged in talk about unrelated subjects until Nayeon made the decision to go back and concentrate on the actual task they were working on. Nayeon stated inquiringly, "About YN, how did it go well?" but her tone hardly conveyed her curiosity. She will never develop any expectation when your name is spoken. As Jeongyeon was reminded of what had transpired the night before, the disappointment that had been building inside of her surfaced again. "Uhh... nothing.", she said.

Not wanting to get misintepreted and just leave her friend hanging for a lack of detail, she emphasized it further. "I-I mean... it didn't happen."

"What do you mean?" Nayeon furrowed her brows.

Jeongyeon bent her head down and stared at her nearly empty pasta dish. "He didn't show up. The receptionist from his workplace yesterday told me that it was his dayoff but he didn't saw any signs of him outside." To Nayeon's perplexity, Jeongyeon nodded, "So you were supposed to meet him there?" She shook her head and clicked her tongue. "How am I not surprised that he'll forget it." Jeongyeon sighed, "He said he was free." "But anyways, maybe he was with Tzuyu yesterday. I shouldn't complain about it if it was his girlfriend he chose to spend his time rather than me who is his ex." Nayeon saw that you had let Jeongyeon down once more. She knew in advance that you wouldn't provide her the appropriate apologies, like you did a year ago. In retrospect, she was truly appreciative of it as the longer you persist in your obstinacy and self-centeredness, the more she has been inspired to rebel against you in an effort to exact revenge on you for the harm you caused to her friend's weak heart. Even yet, it was difficult for her to accept that the only thing that came of it was that you were still ruthlessly breaking Jeongyeon's heart and now hurting Tzuyu as well, who is aware of the darker part of your nature. Nayeon chimed in, presumably trying to shift the responsibility and allay Jeongyeon's concerns, saying, "It's fine, Jeong. I already knew that it'll go that way." It made her wonder, though, if it was the sole reason behind Jeongyeon's melancholy. "Do you too, right?", she checked. Jeongyeon turned to face her, shocked by Nayeon's persistence. "I-I am." She pretended to be happy. Nayeon's eyes narrowed. She had known Jeongyeon for almost ten years. She's skilled at lying, but because they've grown close to the point where they resemble siblings, Nayeon wouldn't take it well.

"Should I remind him again?" Jeongyeon asked. Nayeon hated to see her slowly getting manipulated again by YN's disguise of being a nice, sweet guy that Jeongyeon used to fall in love- and then get fooled afterwards before. She had to pull her back away in case things gets more alarming.

Nayeon doesn't forget that even after months of their break-up, Jeongyeon is still TRYING to get over him. The man still has this soft spot in her heart which serves as Jeongyeon's weakness from him despite how she despises him from what he did to her.

With that, Nayeon needs to do better and continue to flip that disadvantage into advantage in order to be useful against YN's downfall.

"No need, I still got him kept on track." Nayeon said. "You're right, he was with Tzuyu yesterday. Fortunately she gave me a signal and that way I had to continue following him."

"And did you find anything suspicious?"

Nayeon looked at Jeongyeon's wondering gaze. She breathed deeply and gulped the saliva to her throat before responding.

"Getting there."

Although she detested lying to her friend, she made a mental promise to herself that she was going to tell what was true eventually, as for the time being this had nothing to do with Jeongyeon. On the other side, you parked your motorcycle next to the sidewalk in the interim. You got off and took off your helmet, bringing your personal items with you as you entered the bakery. The chimes chimed as the door opened, attracting the attention of the few individuals within.However, one woman in particular stood for a considerable amount of time staring at the man who had just entered the same room as her. As their eyes locked, a grin slowly appeared on her face.

It became wider when he fell in line and the more he gets closer, her blush became larger and eyes sparkled in front of him.

"Good morning, Mina." You grinned and said hello to the woman who actually owns this business. The more you pursue to intrigue her, the simpler it will be to get her drawn to you. You and Mina first met when her bakery became your go-to place whenever you wanted to have a sample of a fine, freshly baked bread across the street. The first time you discovered this place was when you pointed her location as your recommendation to Jeongyeon for the two of you to try some delicious baked goods to take home.

You led yourselves there with much pleasure. Although Jeongyeon was a stunning lady who accompanied you at the time, as soon as you walked into the bakery, it seemed as though you were drawn constantly and automatically to the alluring beauty of the cashier who was waiting to serve you and your ex-wife. Mina was so lovely. You were quite attached to her when you had the chance to get to know her better and started going to her store frequently. She remembered you as a regular customer because of something in her gentle voice, her melodious laugh, and her carefree smile.

And the more you two get to know yourselves more, you became even more comfortable to atleast try to test this woman with your ways of stealing her heart and making her fall in love with you as much as you are developing the same for her.

"Hey, YN!" Mina welcomed you. "Where have you've been these past few days? Didn't get to see you here."

"Ooohhh missed me already?" You teased her. Mina became shy and takes her eyes away at your sight.

"I-it's not like that, I was just c-curious." Mina reasoned out. "You know that with the most of the times I get to see you coming here, it'll make me feel strange to just suddenly not being able to spot your presence here."

You hummed and nodded, shrugging your shoulders. "Now that I'm here, are you happy now?" You smirked.

Mina giggled at your silliness. "You cheered up also my day more, YN."

"Good for me, because I always love to see your lovely smile, Mina." You reached for her cheeks and pinched it.

She pointed to the many bread and pastry varieties arranged on the glass shelf underneath you and asked, "Stop with the fluttering words, what do you wanna buy?" She got your favorite treats once you mentioned them, packaged them, and calculated the total price. You thanked her after paying and made a gesture to blow her a kiss before heading out of the store. Your kind gesture made the young girl's heart skip a beat, even though she had no idea that she would soon become just another victim of a love fraud.

Back on the current status of the mastermind, Nayeon reaches the place she spent hours monitoring by, which almost made her bored. Entering the place without the needed proper attire, she unbotheredly walked in and approached her next target.

"Hi, miss. Are you here for an class appointment or a simple workout?" The cashier entertains the newly arrived client.

"Oh, nothing. I just want to speak with the owner, please." Nayeon denied. She looked at one of the posters pasted of the wall and found an interesting name. "Ms. Hirai Momo."

"Uhm... sorry miss, but if you don't have any scheduled class with her, I'm afraid I can't allow you to meet her." The lady still didn't accepted her permission.

Nayeon's patience is being tested yet she remained calm, not wanting to cause a scene here especially that the lady is making sense anyway. She can't just come here and asked for a stranger who actively running an establishment as of the moment to engage in a conversation with her.

She sighed before speaking. "Is she currently here, if I may ask? Actually she's a friend of mine.", she said.

"Oh... I'm really sorry miss." The watchlady bowed down to apologize for restricting a close friend of her boss. "But... Ms. Hirai is not here right now and will not be visiting for today."

Nayeon oohed and gave a comprehensible nod. She was a little let down that after traveling this far, the person she wanted to speak with wasn't here. Nevertheless, she wasn't very impacted by it because of her desire and espionage. "Okay, I'll just ask her by myself. And also, don't tell her that I came here today, got it?"

The woman complied with her request. "Thank you."

Nayeon hurried back to her car after leaving the gym. In an instant, she turned on the engine and spun the wheels. "Alright, her home it is then."

She drived for almost less than an hour until she reached a street on Seoul where she spotted the familiar place she has recently been into. Nayeon went out of the car and stepped in front of the gate before pressing the doorbell.

"Who is it?" The occupant inside called through the talkie.

"Hello, is this is the house of Ms. Hirai Momo? I'm a friend of YN's. He told me to give something to you." Nayeon claimed.

"Ah okay, wait there a second please." Momo responded after. Nayeon just chuckled badly at her deceiving words.

She saw a front door opening, and there she was. Momo stepped out of the house and walked through the gate to open it. The two women stood face to face at each other for the first time.

"Hello, sorry to interrupt you on your time today, Ms. Hirai... but can I just speak with you personally for a moment?" Nayeon suggested. The Japanese woman was speechless as she stared at the unfamiliar face for a while before replying, with some doubts forming inside of her.

"S-sure, come in." She gestured her and gave her a way to pass through.

"Thank you. It's nice to meet you by the way, I'm Nayeon." She offered her hand and Momo accepted it with a small smile.

"I'm Momo."

Together, they went into the home when she shut the gate. Momo led Nayeon into the living room and inquired about her preferences; Nayeon ignored her and assured her that their talk would be brief.

"So, you say you have something from YN that you want to give from me?" Momo responded.

Nayeon gave a nod. She prepared herself since she was going to tell this unaware woman about her major plan. "Yes, but let me clarify things first."

Momo was still unable to speak. "This wasn't directly given to me by him, but I assure you that what I have in me right now... was his own doing."

"What do you mean by that?" Momo knitted her brows, expressing confusion on Nayeon's choosing of words. She opened her phone and gave it to Momo. As the latter looks at it to know what the content was, she swear that she felt like her heart was about to lose its function to beat.

"W-what the fuck is this?" Momo slowly losing the volume of her voice, her lips shuddering followed by her hands that are gripping the sacred object presenting the painful truth on her. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm just a generous friend who seeks vengeance for my beloved friend and for those who fell the same situation as her." Nayeon said. "And that includes, you. Momo."

"What are you talking about?!"

She threw the phone beside Nayeon's space in the couch. Momo stood up quickly in anger, creating a screeching sound on the chair she sat in.

Nayeon who didn't flinched, just matched Momo's level of intensity in her stare. "From the way you let me in to your house just by the mention of the name YN LN, I could take it that you knew him really well. Especially if i'm not mistaken... you two have something really fishy going on between yourselves."

Nayeon crossed her legs and continued to view Momo's widened eyes as she listens to this mysterious woman spitting all the revelations in front of her. "You may be asking yourself right now, how do I know about it. I have no choice but to admit, I've been keeping my eyes not only on him... but on you too."

"And why do you stick your nose on us? What do you want from us?!" Momo stomped in irritation.

"No, Momo. By the look of your face after what you saw, it should be what do I want from YOU."

Nayeon grabbed the phone and stood up to confront the emotional Momo. She presented the picture again featuring YN and Tzuyu kissing together in front of the clothing store Tzuyu works at. "Don't you still get it? I'm here to tell you that your man who is my friend's ex-husband is cheating with some other woman. THE SAME THING THAT SHE DID TO MY FRIEND AFTER HE LEFT HER BROKEN AND ALONE!"

Momo winced at Nayeon's scream close to her face, little did she know that the rage and anger that Nayeon is containing inside of her from YN is more terrifying and dangerous. "And fuck him for doing that to her! I even had to fly here back from States to take care of my friend because she needed it!"

"So don't you even dare to pull out any mercy or defense card against that cheating bitch because I swear to God, he never was sincere as you. He doesn't care at all even for you." Nayeon tells Momo. "He deserves nothing but little protection on his side, now that I'm coming for him. But ofcourse, I'm not gonna be like him, I'm not gonna be alone on this fight, because I'm bringing a backup with me."

She stepped forward to narrow her stare deeper on Momo's astounded display after learning your true colors.

"You have to join me on this one, Momo. Do this with me not only for Jeongyeon and Tzuyu... but for yourself too."

Momo finally whimpered and shed tears down across her face as she couldn't bear the aching feeling disturbing her both straight into her heart and mind. She is still in disbelief that you dared to include her on your dirty mind games and offensive tricks.

"This isn't true..." Momo shook her head rapidly. Her heart that was already became fond of his affection is fighting for denial just for the sake of her love. "He told me that he loved me..."

"He never truly did, unnie." Another feminine voice just interrupted whuch effectively stole Nayeon and Momo's attention. Sana who is at the stairs, sitting and has been watching their argument from the start after hearing loud voices coming from downstairs, heard everything they talked about.

"S-Sana?" Momo questionably called her.

Sana lowered her head in a mix of afraid and nervousness from what she's about to tell her long-time friend. "I was a victim of YN's mischief too, unnie."

Nayeon who didn't expect the sudden turn of events, took the turn to interrogate the new girl. "What did he do to you?"

A bit of a flashback when YN went to Momo's home, after some fun times they shared through most of the afternoon, Momo became tired and fell asleep on his lap.

Sana who was currently working on the bunch of records she has to encode as her job, took a short break by going down, filling up some cold water and taking some nice sweet dessert to regenerate herself on finishing her task.

After she finished drinking a refreshing water, she got taken aback when she felt YN nuzzled on her neck while hugging him from behind.

"You smell so good today, Sana. I missed your scent so much." He said as he took another huge sniff on her nape. "Did you just took a bath earlier?"

Sana turned around and slapped him on the face quickly. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Cmon, Sana really? We've been like this close for some time now and you're gonna act dumb on it?" He tried to reach her waist but Sana pushed him away.

"I know what you're trying to say, but I never wanted it and I never even gave you the rights to touch me freely like as if you own me." Sana retorted, with a slight grunt on her voice.

"Oh you will be mine, soon. Are you really gonna keep being feisty against me? I'm liking it more, you know?" He stepped forward, prompting Sana to lean back which only led to her front body to purse closer. "Makes you look hotter to me."

"Stop being ridiculous, for fuck's sake, YN!" Sana kicked him in the shin causing him to groan almost in the pain before shutting his mouth to avoid Momo from waking up. "Momo is in love with you, have some shame please!"

She just walked away from YN, leaving him glaring on her annoyingly. "And can you just please leave me alone and get out of here now. You can visit Momo unnie again tomorrow or else I'll force you out by myself."

At the end of her recollection, Sana looked apologetically at Momo who felt pity for her cousin being harassed by the man she thought her intentions for love was nothing but pure behind her back.

"And I want you to believe her because... I-I fell in love for him too, unnie." Sana seethed the pain from her chest. "But I never liked what he's doing to me because I know he already has you, unnie. It's not right. And I always want you to be happy ever since we were kids, you know that. That's why when I learn that you got him first, I just let it aside even if it'll hurt me."

Momo cried harder, as the guilt and her sympathy for her cousin grew. "So please, listen to me unnie. Don't let him just do this on you."

All three of them became silent after Momo repeatedly spoke 'I'm sorry' for her cousin who chose to sacrifice letting go of her feelings for the man she loves in order to let the person she cherish the most in her life continue to experience the happiness she's getting from the same man she would've love to receive from.

Sana choosing her over you as the more important option was nothing for Momo to be infuriated about on her cousin who is loving the same man she loves also. She was rather acknowledged her decision more. She has now realized that not only her, but her cousin was also just got manipulated by his fake personality.

"So, what are you gonna do, Momo? Would you still remain your side linked on the man who is just using you for his own desire or you will listen to your cousin who cared far better for you than him?" Nayeon set the options for Momo to pick.

"If your purpose of coming to us was to get back on him for playing on our feelings..."

"... then we're joining you" Momo finished Sana's words. Nayeon encapsulated a satisfied smirk at their right response, which provided an additional inclusion to her revengeful accomplices against YN's toxic and unforgivable ways. "He has to regret messing on our feelings like it was nothing."

Meanwhile, you went to the ground floor of your building to retrieve a key from one of the rooms at the conceirge to access it after finishing your lunch.

You were about to head out of the building to look for some meal to feast when the figure of Jeongyeon looking at your direction as she sits at one of the chairs on the waiting area caught your sight.

"Jeongyeon, hey!" You greeted her, almost impressed at yourself for not being awkward already on meeting her, probably due to your reestablished connection with her as a friends through her initiation. "You're back."

However, he was rather surprised that Jeongyeon is wearing a sullen mood, her lips are pouting at his approach. "Hey."

"What's wrong? You look so down. Is there a problem?"

He then got hit by her bag as she glared madly at him. "You really forget about what we agreed on yesterday, don't you?"

"O-oh wait, no!" You denied, adding some hand gestures to emphasize your reaction. "Ofcourse I don't, how would I be?"

"Then why didn't you showed up?" Jeongyeon rolled her eyes. "You never changed. You really can't be tr-"

"Wait look, my girlfriend needed me more okay?" You stated your reason. Jeongyeon felt a pang on her chest at the mention of Tzuyu, dragging her mood even lower, as if it was unnecessary. "She needed me to take care of her because she didn't really feel good after leaving her work."

"Ahh... I see... okay. I understand." Jeongyeon faked a smile and nodded. "I mean, it's your girl. Her priority is more important than me who is nothing but on-"

"I was about to message you but I noticed that you blocked me in every contacts that we used to have." You added, stopping Jeongyeon from her drama. She paused and then realized her own mistake. "So I didn't get a chance to inform you, well thankfully you're here to let me to tell you personally."

"O-oh, is that so?" Jeongyeon said with a sheepish chuckle. "I-I'm sorry. I forgot to unblock you. I guess I also forgot on my part."

You just laughed and shook at how hilarious the coincidence that just occurred. "It's fine. But can you forgive me now too?"

Jeongyeon was about to speak but she sensed some bit of a hidden message there, creating some trouble within herself. She is compelled to say it but something is also pulling her back from doing it. Perhaps it's simply her tendency to overthink things, but there was a clear reason why the word he just spoke became sensitive to her as well. She observed you again, and her face shifted to a bland demeanor when she had intepreted that it's still not for the one thing she's hoping to have from him. Jeongyeon guessed it'll take her more than that to qualify his sincerity for the casualties she had cost.

"Jeongyeon, you're alright?" You checked up on her as you noticed she got lost on her deep thoughts again.

Snapping out of her trances, she blinked rapidly and faced you again. "Y-yeah, I'm okay. You're going to eat right?"

"Yeah. It's my break now."

"Then I'm joining you, if you mind?"

You smiled at Jeongyeon's insist. "Sure. Let me pick some place for us."

After successfully visiting a restaurant, you and Jeongyeon ordered your foods and to your kindness, you persuaded that you'll be paying Jeongyeon's bill in which she declined at first but only ended up letting you as you also didn't allow her to reject your offer.

You two had a very comfortable and lively lunch, partnered with some engaging conversation about your recent happenings in life, while proceeding to exclude what happened to the two of you in the past.

In turn, you couldn't help but notice the strength and grace with which Jeongyeon had moved forward in her life. Her charming and alluring beauty that was used to hook your feelings on her, you couldn't deny that it never failed to do you so. It's starting to create statics of clips from some of your memories of her where your mood and your adoration for her gets uplifted simultaneously whenever you see this wonderful view of her.

In relief, the waiter distracted your reminiscence of Jeongyeon that is almost getting on your feelings again, passing the receipt of your ordered foods before you gave your payment.

Leaving the restaurant with Jeongyeon after finishing your lunch with her, you and her returned to your workplace. "Thanks for paying for my meal, YN."

"No problem, it's my way of catching up to you." You said. Jeongyeon appreciated the thoughtfulness.

"Well, I have to go now. I still have somewhere to go, I just came here to remind about our supposed meetup yesterday." Jeongyeon excused herself.

"Oh okay, be safe on the road Jeongyeon." You understand, nodding softly and smiling at her. "Goodbye and thanks for the time!"

"You too, YN." Jeongyeon waved her hand at you, but instead you returned the gesture by wrapping her around on your embrance, sending undescribable sensation tingling around her body. "I-it's really good to have you back, Jeong.", you remarked about the redefinition of your relationship with her. Jeongyeon listened, her heart surprisingly softened as she heard the tenderness in his voice.

Now that you disappeared in front of her and entered the building again, that left Jeongyeon to be stunned once again at your heartful and cheerful action, she sighed deeply and clenched her fists at how tough it is again to resist the glimpse of your old being while knowing the bitter truth of it that you still haven't changed, leading yourself astray.

She watched your back distancing away from her, breathing gets heavier as a result of a familiar longing feeling increasing, having her saddened at your lunch that brings her back to that particular time in the past when she had her first date with you and those other numerous times you had to take her outside before, almost giving the same vibes in comparison.

82 notes · View notes

scifrey · 4 months

Text

NINE-TENTHS

Twenty-four is one year too young for a quarter-life crisis, but hey, Colin's always been an overachiever. He's got a degree in Sustainable Tourism, which his family says he's wasting as a barista, an annoying anxiety disorder, and no freaking idea what to do with his life.

The only thing going his way is the cute coffee shop regular, a homo draconis named Dav (who, in his humanshape, is a total hottie.) Still, it'd be easier if Dav didn't have a habit of accidentally setting things on fire when he's startled. Like the café kitchen.

When Dav breaks draconic taboo and volunteers as a replacement bean-roaster to apologize for the inferno meet-ugly, sparks really fly. Everything's finally happening for Colin, until he learns that hooking up with Dav means that under dragon law, Colin is absorbed into Dav's hoard.

Possession may be nine-tenths of the law, but becoming his boyfriend's property does not make this whole identity crisis thing easier. Especially now that Colin must navigate politics, paparazzi, and legal questions about his personhood. Colin's still angling for his Happily Ever After, but the growing scrutiny on his relationship with Dav threatens their budding romance.

And if he's not careful, Colin's fight for agency may just destroy symbiotic human/dragon relationships worldwide.

🐉☕❤️

A sassy, queer, alternate universe romance from Publishers Weekly's Best Books of 2011 author J.M. Frey. Wrapped in discussions of autonomy and colonialism, Nine-Tenths meets in the middle between Red, White & Royal Blue and the Temeraire series.

🐉☕❤️

Part One

There's this thing in stories called the "inciting incident".

And mine? It's a goddamn doozy.

It’s the part of the book, right at the start, where the lovers have their meet-cute, the farm boy leaves for the wider world, the Chosen One is attacked by her first evil monster, blah, blah, blah. You know what I mean. It's the place where everything opens up and you have no idea what you're in for—only that it'll be exciting.

I know all about Inciting Incidents because I was going to be a writer.

No, I thought I was going to be a writer. Historical romance, that’s my jam. Dukes, rakes, windblown-gowns, dropped handkerchiefs, cliffside confessions—I am a slut for that stuff. Forget real history (totally flunked ‘We’re-Feeding-You-Colonialist-Narratives-Disguised-As-Education’ 101). Give me made-up kingdoms and far-flung pirates. Give me the fantasy of a happily ever after that lasts beyond ‘the end’. Give coffee and stories, and I am a content boy.

But right before he got sick, in the summer between my first and second year of university, my Dad and I had a serious talk about writing. How much work it is. How long it takes to start paying off. Backup plans.

And then… after, I thought, well, he wasn’t wrong. If life was going to be pointlessly, stupidly, cruelly short, then I should spend my time trying to do something good, right? I switched majors. Science makes sense. Science is logical. Science creates vaccines and saves lives. Science can bring species back from the brink of extinction. Science doesn’t break your heart.

All of this is to say that I can—with complete and utter certainty—point to the exact moment when my life became a trash fire. It was my twenty-fourth birthday, and my big sister Gemma gave me the dumbest, but totally plot-inciting gift: a sunrise alarm clock.

The Incident starts like this, in Mum’s pokey poppies-and-roosters kitchen, with Gemma leaning on the back of my chair:

"I have a perfectly good alarm clock." I hold up my phone, then let it slap back down onto the plastic tablecloth. "Goes ding when there's stuff."

My sister heaves the kind of sigh only eldest-born siblings make, indulgent and frustrated at the same time. I love making her make that noise. It's hilarious.

"It wakes you up gently," Gem says. "So you’re not cranky."

"I’m not cranky in the mornings."

Everyone laughs. I may have snapped at Stuart this morning when he shook my foot through my childhood bed sheets like an aggressive chihuahua. Okay. So I'm cranky in the mornings.

"I don't see how it's supposed to work." Stu grabs the clock. "How can you see the light if your eyes are closed?"

As the younger brother of twin siblings, I am used to having the toys I’m playing with pulled out of my hands. Instead of trying to snatch it back, I fiddle with the iridescent green bow that was on my present, then stick it to my ear. Mum smirks at my accessory, but otherwise her prim little 'all my babies are home to roost' face stays in place.

I'm the only one of us who went away to school, and stayed away. Gem came back to live with Mum straight after she finished her undergrad, so Mum wouldn't be alone in the house. Stuart never left the city, though he's got his own place now. But that's why I stayed away after I graduated last year. Mum and Gem don't need me, and if I came back, Stu would try to get me to join his crew.

I go weak in the knees for the kind of person jacked enough to pick me up and consensually throw me around. Standing on a roof next to a whole crew of pretty roughs trying to help them replace shingles? That's gonna lead to me swooning and dying of a broken neck. Stu doesn’t want that on his conscience.

Because she's a bossy know-it-all, Gem takes my present from Stu and opens it to show me how it works. She huffs. "You can see sunlight through your eyelids. It just works, okay?"

Stu helps himself to another piece of my birthday cake, licking the icing off his fingers and the serving knife. Mum slaps the hand holding the knife, and Stu flushes up and sets it down. He descends on his third piece like a wolf, but at least now he's watching his manners.

"There's an instruction manual," I point out as Gem tosses the booklet on the table.

"The day you read the instructions," Mum says, "is the day I'll know for sure the fairies really swapped you."

It's an old joke, being the Changeling child. I'm the only one of them with dark hair. The rest of my family are blond as heck.

Mum’s grinning into that little curl in the side of her mouth that holds secrets. Dad always called it Mum's 'Peter Pan Kiss’. He'd wrap his arms around her waist and kiss that corner, and Mum would swat at him for ruining her lipstick.

Thinking about Dad reminds me he's dead.

I hate the swoop-and-stab sensation in my chest that comes with remembering. Especially when there's a moment you want to share, and you turn your head to his chair and start composing the sentence in your head: "Hey, Mum's doing that—" and then you stop.

You stop composing. Stop turning. Stop thinking about sharing. Stop breathing.

Because that chair is empty.

Dad's dead.

And you'll never get the chance to point out the Peter Pan kiss again. Or watch Mum swat him. Or listen to him tease us for falling for Mum's Old World fairy stories. Or hear his stupid har-har-har donkey laugh, thick with his French accent.

It's my birthday.

He's not here.

I'll have another birthday, next year, and he won't be there for that one either.

I try to control my breathing, but Mum hears it hitching. I'm already staring at Dad's terrible empty chair, so it's not like I can hide what I'm thinking about. Mum curls her fingers over my knuckles.

"I wish he was here too, mo leanbh," she says softly.

Stu and Gem go quiet.

"Sucks," I cough out, deciding to give no one the pleasure of watching me actually cry. I'll save it for later, when I'm back in my own apartment. Not because of any kind of 'real men don't' toxic masculinity bullshit, but because I hate the fuss. They take the shit my therapist tells them about being my support network too much to heart.

"More tea, Mummers?" I ask instead.

"Time for something stronger, don't you think?"

Next Part | Read on Wattpad

Trailer Music: "A Thousand Years" by The Piano Guys Cover Art: @seancefemme

39 notes · View notes

jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka · 17 days

Text

Part 3!! I had a good time writing this chapter as well, and it’s another doozy. Hope you enjoy!

Pairings: Jake Kiszka X Danny Wagner ***slash

Warnings and tags: 18+ only please!! Adult themes including: very brief mention of past partner death, very brief mention of marriage problems, some crying, some insecurity, my sad attempt at flirting, very slight suggestive talk, dad Jake AU, uncle Danny

Word count: 5.5k

Mondays were hard for everybody, but this particular Monday seemed to be kicking Jake in the ass.

First he spilled coffee all over his pants so he had to change after already being a little behind on getting up and getting both himself and Luna ready. That made them end up at the back of the line for drop off at the elementary.

He was speeding over to the office after getting her to school. Normally it wouldn’t matter so much if he came in a little late, but someone had the bright idea of scheduling a meeting at nine am on a Monday and he still needed to go over a few things with his team before it started.

They had a big fundraiser coming up soon that he’d spent nearly six months preparing for. One of the local orchestras had offered to put on a concert and donate the ticket sales to the foundation. The event wasn’t going to be too big, but they had managed to secure a guest singer, a couple of soloist, and even a live band to agree to play afterwards while they had drinks and hors d'oeuvres.

Jake was excited about this particular fundraiser because the sales and any extra donations were going to go to giving students private music lessons, a program he’d been working on launching for quite a while now.

Though Jake had been working for the foundation for a few years already, this was the first project he’d put so much of himself into, feeling particularly strongly about the accessibility of musical education for children as a passionate musician with a child himself.

Even after his wife’s passing, Jake’s home was still filled with music to share with his daughter. His record collection specifically ranged anywhere from dusty old vinyls he had inherited from his parents house, to mint condition collectibles and limited editions he probably never would have found without his connections. His prized possessions however, were the first pressings of his and June’s album when it first came out.

The few copies they’d kept for themselves stayed tucked safely away on the corner of the highest shelf where they sat untouched since her passing, Jake still too tender to hear her voice again. Someday though he knew Luna would want to listen to them, and he only prayed he would have himself prepared enough by then.

By the time the meeting was over Jake decided to head back out for an early lunch. With the rush to get out the door this morning he hadn’t packed anything to eat so he decided to treat himself at his favorite restaurant- a spot he didn’t frequent too often since it was in what he considered to be a sketchier part of town.

Since it was just him he didn’t mind making the drive over, at least that was until his dashboard suddenly lit up with about three different warning lights. Of course he would be having car trouble today of all days.

With an annoyed huff Jake pulled over to the side of the road, leaving his car running because he was too scared that if he turned it off now he wouldn’t be able to get it back on. Being a little unfamiliar with his surroundings he pulled out his phone and googled where the nearest service shop was, finding one simply called Rudy’s Custom Auto just up the road he’d hoped would do the trick quickly and without charging too much.

His car managed to make it to the mechanic in one piece- though the sputtering of the engine misfiring was about to give him a heart attack.

The shop was nothing more than two bays behind old garage doors with a small office attached to the side. One of the bays was already occupied by an old body truck stripped of all its paint and covered in multiple patches of bondo. Jake pulled up to the next bay and waited a moment for someone to come out.

When nobody came he braved turning off his car, gripping the keys tightly in his palm as he slowly tread into the open garage. Once he stuck his head in he saw a pair of dirty work boots on the other side of the truck, but the dated stereo system that sat on top the workbench on the far wall kept the person at work from hearing Jake arrive. Jake cleared his throat and called out above the sound of Steely Dan playing loudly, “hello? Are you open?”

“You scared the shit out of me!” The person inside answered him, then their boots started to make their way around the front of the truck.

Jake stood awkwardly at the threshold of the doorway, waiting to see what kind of character worked at a place like this, but oddly enough he felt like he’d heard their voice from somewhere.

“What can I do for you?” They asked with their back towards Jake as they paused to turn down the stereo. Finally he turned around and a huge smile spread across his face when they both realized who it was. Danny was just as shocked to see Jake here as he was, but he also looked really excited.

“You work here?” Jake asked, thinking it was a stupid question as soon as it slipped out. Of course Danny worked here, he was standing inside the shop in a pair of navy dickies covered in oil and white dust with a just as dirty white t-shirt (this one without any modifications to it) tucked into his waistband and tightly stretched across his chest and arms.

“Off and on. Rudy’s a friend of mine he lets me do some body work when I need a job”.

“Oh,” Jake looked around the shop aimlessly, mostly just trying to keep from staring at the tattoo he now knew peaked out just underneath Danny’s sleeve. “There’s umm… something wrong with my car. Could you take a look at it?”

“Well, I’m not much of a mechanic but Rudy is out on lunch right now. For you though I could do some digging around and see if I can’t at least figure out what your problem is”.

Jake knew Danny was giving him special service as he lifted the hood and bent over into the engine. He never once thought having an admirer would come with many perks, but as he stood with his arms folded loosely across his chest as Danny checked hoses and looked for leaks the frustration towards the whole situation started to wear away. By some strange stroke of fate the car he so tediously took care of, nearly never missing an oil change, happened to break down in the same neighborhood he had no idea Danny worked in.

“Hey! Don’t break it any more!” Jake hollered, stepping up next to Danny to see what all the banging around he was doing was.

“I think I might know what it is” Danny popped his head back out, startling Jake as he suddenly came face to face with the other man. Another shock came when Danny grabbed his hand and shoved it down into the engine. “Feel that?”

Jake wanted to rip his hand away, all he could feel right now was the residual heat from the parts around his forearm, his fingers blindly searching for what Danny may be talking about, and the way his chest pressed against his shoulder as they both leaned over so Jake’s shorter arm could reach. Finally he felt the warm liquid and realized the smell he got a whiff of was gasoline.

“Must have a leak in your fuel injectors” Danny backed away, letting Jake pull his own hand out and offered him a rag from his back pocket to wipe it off with. “Gonna be a bitch to get replaced. Let me call Rudy see if he has any spare parts otherwise he can pick some up on his way back”.

Jake wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, not being too familiar with the inner workings of an engine himself, but he figured he should probably start making some calls of his own starting with work. After letting them know he probably wasn’t going to make it back from lunch Danny came walking out of the shop again.

“Good news, he can get the parts and he’s on his way back. Bad news, I could only sweet talk him down to a couple hundred bucks”.

“Right! Of course that’s fine, let me just-” Jake bent over back into his front seat, bracing himself on the cushion with one arm as he searched the console for his wallet. After a few seconds of not finding it he was struck with the realization that he’d had his wallet in his pants this morning. The ones he spilt coffee all over. “Fuck” he grumbled to himself, backing out of the car to see Danny looking away quickly. Was he staring?

“Well actually, I think I left my wallet at home. This Rudy guy doesn’t take ApplePay does he?”

Danny chuckled and shook his head, “no, this is not the kind of place for that. Don’t worry I’ve got you”.

“Oh no, I couldn’t ask you to do that” Jake tried to quickly figure out how he could get the money before Rudy returned. Maybe he could call Josh to swing by his house and get his wallet, or bring some cash. Fuck how long was this going to take anyways? He might have to ask Josh to pick up Luna from school too.

While Jake’s mind was racing Danny turned around and walked back into the shop to get back to work on the sanding he was doing before Jake happened to show up.

“Let me see what my brother is up to right now, he might be able to bring me some cash. How much exactly is it?” Jake followed Danny inside this time, not paying much attention to where he was going as he pulled his phone out.

Abruptly he was stopped when Danny’s hands wrapped around his forearms and pulled him out of the way before Jake could walk into a tool box sitting in the middle of the floor. He looked around the inside of the shop now, seeing the entire place was quite a disheveled mess. Tools were everywhere between the ground and the workbench, and oil pans that looked like they’d been used one too many times were piled into the corner of the second bay. It was like navigating a minefield to get somewhere he could stand and wait.

“I said don’t worry about it” Danny replied once he had Jake situated in a safe place. “Besides there are plenty of ways you can pay me back”. Danny gave Jake a flirtatious wink from where he sat back on his rolling stool on the other side of the truck.

“Excuse me?” Jake scoffed, too astounded by Danny’s suggestive response to focus on making the phone call now.

“Yeah, like a date” Danny continued as he picked up his scrap of sandpaper and started to go over his most recent bondo covered spot.

“A date?” Jake blinked a few times, wondering if he’d heard him right since the radio was still playing quietly in the background. “You want me to take you on a date?”

“Well I was going to say let me take you on a date” Danny chuckled again, keeping his eyes focused on his work, “but if you want to take me out I’m not at all opposed to that either”.

“I- I mean- ” Jake was stumbling over his words, in utter disbelief and embarrassed by his lack of composure right now. He didn’t understand what had gotten into him.

“What? Are you not into guys or something?” Danny let his eyes flicker back over to Jake this time, catching a slight blush creep into his cheeks.

“No, that’s not it…” Jake replied sheepishly. It was true, from a young age he didn’t put much thought into sexuality or gender for that matter. He was always more attracted to the person and how deep of a connection he could make rather than just what was on the surface. Though he’d never actually dated someone of the same sex before, it was never out of the question for him.

“Then what is it?”

The sound of Danny’s sanding stopped as he waited patiently for a response. He had a suspicion he knew where Jake’s reservations were rooted from, having already heard a few details, but he hoped Jake would feel comfortable enough to tell him himself.

“Dates have been hard for me,” Jake began, fiddling with the rim of his phone case to distract himself from mentally screaming stop shut up if you tell him he will only pity you- “since my wife died a few years ago”.

“I know,” Danny replied without hesitation, making Jake realize- of course he knew, his sister was one of Jake’s closest friends, “and I’d respect your boundaries if you said it was still too soon”.

Jake leaned against the work bench behind him and let his head fall backwards, huffing a breath out through his nose, staring up at the ceiling as he thought for a moment. His eyes felt dry and prickly, but he absolutely could not tear up right now. No he’d told himself a long time ago that he was done with that.

Danny seemed to be one step ahead of him on this, already understanding what he was getting himself into when asking Jake for a date. “What if I said it wasn’t too soon?”

“Hmm?” Danny didn’t quite make out his question, either because it was being directed towards the ceiling instead of him, or maybe because Jake was actually only asking himself.

“It’s not too soon” he rephrased as he looked back over at Danny again, a little more resolve in his demeanor. “Are you free this Friday night?”

Danny’s face lit up in a smile, having thought there for a moment Jake was going to officially tell him to fuck off. “I can be”.

A cocky reply, Jake thought, smirking himself a little. “Alright then. Friday night, I’ve got an event to go to. You can come”.

“An event? For your job?” Danny questioned in return as he once again got back to work. “Doesn’t sound like much of a date to me”.

“Look, do you want to come or not?”

“No, no, I’ll be there,” he assured him quickly, “thanks for inviting me”.

It’s not really like I had much of a choice. The truth was he could have declined, could have told Danny to shove it and stormed out of the shop to wait in his car for Rudy to return. He didn’t though, and there was possibly even a part of him who was excited he’d invited Danny.

Originally he was supposed to be going with Josh, but then his brother had something come up that weekend that he couldn’t get out of. Josh’s partner booked them a little mini vacation not realizing the dates conflicted with Jake’s concert, and the hotel and airfare were nonrefundable.

Jake promised him he didn’t mind, ‘It’s just going to be a local group playing a few songs, nothing too special. You guys go have fun’. He was more anxious about it than he’d led onto Josh though. At least now he wouldn’t be going alone and he’d have something to distract him if he got too nervous- Danny being easily very distracting.

“What are you even doing? You’ve been sanding the same spot this entire time” Jake tentatively stepped a little closer until Danny waved him over.

“I may not know too much about engines, but I know a lot about the body” Danny replied with a smugish half smile that made Jake roll his eyes. “Come here, you have to get right up close to see what I’m talking about”.

Jake moved to stand next to Danny, leaning over slightly as he stared at the white blob on the fender of the truck. Danny stood up and got behind him, barely grabbing at his waist as he positioned Jake to get the right angle. Jake’s body stiffened and froze, unused to being freely touched so often without any warning.

“You see how smooth it looks?” Danny muttered behind his ear making the hairs on the back of Jake’s neck stand up. “Run your hand across it now”. Jake did as he was told and placed his palm on the cold metal, feeling a small ripple as he swiped it slowly over the surface.

“You see sometimes things look perfect from the outside, but when you get your hands on it you find tiny little flaws. I’m a perfectionist, I’ve got to get every little dent and scratch out. Sometimes that takes days of just filling and sanding it back down until I run my hand across and it’s smooth as can be”.

“Doesn’t it get annoying?” Jake asked, thinking about how long and tedious that process must be.

“I’m very patient” Danny shrugged, letting go and sitting back on his stool.

Jake couldn’t help but let his mind wander in this moment as he watched Danny from just a foot away now. He wondered what Danny might think if he ever got an up close look at him. Sure maybe from the outside he looked put together, just like this fender solid and sturdy, but once he got his hands on him he’d be able to feel all his flaws- the cuts that dug deep into his very being and had scarred over.

Only about ten minutes later Rudy returned and Danny took a break from what he was doing to help get Jake’s car back in good working order. Thankfully they were done just in time for him to get to the school and pick up his daughter without having to call in reinforcements.

“Wait, could I get your number?” Danny stopped Jake before he could drive off, hoping but also confident that their fix worked. “So we can coordinate the date?”

Jake looked over Danny’s shoulder, seeing his boss tossing more tools around, not even bothering to clean up and not paying attention to what his employee was doing- clearly harassing customers. He gave him his number anyway, finding a text presumably from Danny when he got home. Just a simple wink face emoji.

Before he could save the number in his contact list though, Luna called for his help in the kitchen and he dropped his phone off on the bar. Completely forgetting about the little message left on read.

It wasn’t until Thursday night after he’d gotten off the phone with Josh that he received another text from the unknown number.

What should I be wearing tomorrow?

10:34PM

Jake waited a moment to reply, he’d just about concluded that maybe Danny had forgotten about the ‘date’ because he hadn’t heard from him since leaving Rudy’s shop Monday afternoon. When Danny didn’t show up to Wednesday’s soccer practice either Jake was a little discouraged, but he told himself to get over it. He walked Emma home and her mom looked like she’d had a rough day so Jake didn’t bother asking about her brother's whereabouts. Should he really care anyways?

Something nice but not too formal

10:48PM

No jeans and a crop top

10:49PM

Crop top?

11:00PM

Wait, that’s my favorite shirt

11:00PM

Good to know. Don’t wear it.

11:02PM

Ok I won’t, but you remember it?

11:02PM

Jake panicked for a second as he read the text. Why did he have to bring it up? Stupid mistake.

Danny continued to text while Jake stumbled for a reply, writing something out then thinking it sounded stupid and erasing it, knowing Danny was probably watching him type.

Did Luna see the video I sent her? Of the soccer ball slime? I thought she’d like that one

11:05PM

If Jake didn’t already feel awkward about bringing up the crop top, now he felt even sillier about having thought Danny had sent that video to him. Of course it was meant for Luna.

He debated not responding, just closing the messages app on his phone and going to sleep, but he knew that would be rude- a little white lie might be better.

Yes, she liked it

11:08PM

I’m glad, sorry I wasn’t at practice this week

11:09PM

Danny didn’t offer a reason why he was absent, but at least he’d thought to apologize. Not that he had to, it’s not like Jake was hoping to see him there or anything. Again he didn’t know what to say; it was getting late Danny had to know he was probably in bed right? Before he could reply again another text came in.

I’ll let you get to sleep. I’m excited to see you tomorrow. Good night Jake

11:11PM

Good night

11:12PM

Friday was a frenzy, hustling around between the office, the venue where the orchestra and band were getting to practice with the soloists for the last time before the show, and then home to get Luna ready to stay at Emma’s house while he was out.

The air was heavy at the venue when Jake left, some issues with sound they were able to get a tech to fix, and some tiny adjustments to the breaks in the program had everyone tense and on edge. Jake knew it was just pre show nerves though and he had full faith that the night was going to go over well.

The confidence in his peers didn’t exactly extend to himself however, as he held his breath when he rang the doorbell, Luna standing at his side excitedly.

“Daddy you’re going to a party?” She asked, ever curious about what he was up to.

“I’m going to a work party” he explained to her again, having already told her she was going alone to play at Emma’s house tonight for just a couple of hours.

“Will there be presents and cake there?”

“No presents, but there might be some cake. Do you want me to save you some?”

“Me and Emma?” She asked, grabbing his hand and looking up at her Dad with a pleading smile.

“Of course, I’ll bring you both some” he returned the smile down at her until the front door opened and she bounced inside off to find her friend.

“Thank you for watching her tonight” Jake told Emma’s mom as he waited around for Danny to show. He’d text him when he was on the way, offering a ride since he was coming over anyways.

“Of course any time” she kept the door open, also aware who Jake was waiting on. The silence was a bit uncomfortable, how much did she know about them anyways? The two seemed to be close, but he worried if she thought it was a little strange her friend and her brother were going out together.

“I know someone who gives piano lessons will be there tonight. I can ask them if they have any space for Emma” Jake offered, just to fill the time.

“Oh, that would be nice. We’ve got a lot going on right now though so we might wait until next year”.

“No worries, I can just get her contact information. Has Michael been having to stay late again?” He didn’t want to pry too much, but after a couple of years of knowing them he could tell there seemed to be some new unresolved tension coming from the household.

She sighed and shook her head, obviously frustrated but biting her tongue. He realized there might be a little more to her irritation than just her husband working late, but before she could break and spill her worries Danny finally emerged from the hallway.

“Sorry for making you wait, I was ironing my shirt”.

Jake’s eyebrows shot up when he saw Danny in the doorway, the light from inside the house casting his long shadow across the porch Jake stood on. He was wearing a dark colored button up with a diamond pattern, the sleeves rolled a quarter of the way up his arms with subtle gold chains across his wrists and neck. “Is this okay?” He did a little spin, holding his arms out so Jake could get a good look at his outfit.

“Yeah it’s great. You look great” Jake cleared his throat and adjusted the collar of his own shirt, glancing over to see Danny’s sister watching them with amusement in her eyes.

“Well you two have fun. Jake don’t worry about hurrying home we’ve got the kids”.

Jake nodded and Danny gave his sister a quick side hug before joining Jake on the porch. She shut the door behind him and Danny gave Jake a big eager smile.

“You look great too. I like this” he ran his thumb across the lapel of Jake’s suede coat he’d chosen for the night, already knowing it got cold at the venue they were going to. “I like these too” Danny’s fingers moved next to one of the necklaces that sat against Jake’s chest, picking up the circular charm and examining it.

“Thanks, they were a gift” Jake replied, trying to remain as still as possible and keep his breathing steady.

“Well, shall we?” Danny gently laid the pendant back down and retreated, clasping his hands behind his back like he was reminding himself to behave.

The ride over was nice. They talked about music finding out they had similar taste, Jake leaning more towards blues and Danny towards folk but both sharing a passion for the classics of old rock n roll.

When they arrived at the event Jake had plenty of people to greet and thank for being there. He worried Danny might feel out of place or get bored, but every time he glanced over to him Danny was lit up with a smile and conversing with those around him. Soon it was time to take their seats; Jake showed Danny where they would be at the back of the room, and waited by the stage for his quick speech before the concert started.

Jake held the mic tightly in his hands, not having felt that weight in his grip in years. He’d always had a bit of stage fright, but getting up in front of a crowd with June had never been less than amazing and he tuned into the memory of that feeling when he stepped in front of the audience tonight.

“First of all I’d just like to thank everyone for taking the time out of their weekend to be here with us. For those of you I don’t know, my name is Jacob Kiszka and I work for the foundation who put on this event. All of our ticket sales from tonight are going towards our new program that offers students free private music lessons. I really hope you enjoy the performance. Over the past six months I’ve been overseeing this project, I've gotten the opportunity to know some of these brilliant musical minds and promise they have some treats in store for you. Again, thank you so much for coming and after the show please feel free to check out the live band and refreshments we will have in the conference room next door”.

The crowd clapped for him as he exited the small stage and scurried off to rejoin Danny at their seats. They had the last row reserved to themselves, and with the venue not being close to full there wasn’t even anyone sitting anywhere near them.

As soon as he plopped down next to Danny the lights dimmed, getting darker where they were compared to the stage lights that focused their intensity on the musicians down below and the first song on the program began.

Jake’s focus stayed on the stage, but he felt Danny shift closer to him and whisper into his ear. “You did a good job”.

Just as easily as he’d leaned over, Danny sat back in his seat and enjoyed the performance, letting Jake do the same. Despite any hiccups they’d had earlier, the soloists were flawless, the transitions between pieces seamless, and the audience was loving every minute of it, clapping enthusiastically after each final note.

“Isn’t she amazing?” Jake asked Danny when his favorite performer finished by far the hardest song of the night, The Habanera from Carmen. It was her idea to include it in the program, and although Jake worried it might be too difficult for an intermediate orchestra, he was blown away by their hard work and dedication to the art.

“I actually can't believe I just heard that in real life” Danny’s mouth was agape, his eyes glittering with sheer delight.

Jake’s smile faded as he observed Danny watching the performance now, but it wasn’t because he was upset or anything. Quite the opposite, he was suddenly being filled with an overwhelming sense of relief and reassurance. He expected Danny might like it otherwise he wouldn’t have invited him. Even if he didn’t that would have been ok, but Danny seemed to be genuinely appreciative of his time here and that made Jake even happier he’d come.

Feeling like he was being watched, Danny looked over and made eye contact with Jake who was sitting on the edge of his seat. A shiver broke through undeather his coat when Danny’s eyes took him in next, looking him up and down through hooded lids and finally settling on his hands in his lap.

Internally Jake was screaming at himself to move, say something, do anything, but on the outside he was as calm as ever when Danny reached over and grabbed one of his hands, intertwining their fingers together and giving it a squeeze. Jake let out a shaky breath as his eyes fell to his lap, hoping Danny could not feel his heart pounding in his wrist.

“Jake…” Danny muttered his name in the dark, swiping his thumb over the back of Jake’s hand making him look back up again, only he didn’t look him in the eye this time. Jake found himself staring at Danny’s lips, hoping he’d be the braver of the two again.

Before either of them could make the next move though their moment was cut short when Jake heard someone else start speaking over the microphone.

“This last piece was not included on the programs, it is a special thanks to our Director Jake for all the hard work he’s put in. We hope you’ve all had a great night and be safe”.

Jake snapped his head back towards the stage, shocked and completely unaware of this secret addition to the performance. He gripped Danny’s hand tighter when the song began to play and he instantly recognized it as a rendition of one of his own.

The singer started in after the acoustic guitar opening, and Jake was taken aback when he heard his late wife's lyrics bleeding through the speakers for the first time in over three years.

He could feel the sting but he didn’t even register the tears rolling down his cheeks until Danny sat forward as well. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just-” he felt his voice crack, his face and chest burning hot as he shook his hand free from Danny’s and excused himself.

Jake went out into the hallway to collect himself, furiously wiping at his cheeks until they were rubbed red and drying his palms on his pants. Thankfully he was alone, until he heard the sound of the door behind him allowing someone else out.

“I’m sorry, that just caught me off guard” Jake’s knee jerk reaction was to apologize, suck it up, and walk back in with his head held high. All of that flew out the window though when Danny silently came from behind him and wrapped his arms around Jake’s shoulders, pulling his back against his chest and resting his chin on the top of Jake’s head.

More tears began to pool along his lash line when Jake reciprocated the touch by wrapping his hands around Danny’s forearms and pulling them tighter around his shaking frame.

“Don’t apologize. You’re allowed to feel every emotion coming to you right now” Danny muttered behind him.

Jake shook his head and nuzzled his face into the forearms folded across his chest, waiting for the moment to pass before he popped his head back up and inhaled sharply.

“Ok, I’m going to go to the restroom. People will be coming out soon. Will you wait for me in the conference room?”

“Yeah, I can do that”. Danny released his hold and took a few steps back to give Jake some space now. Though as he watched Jake cover his mouth with the back of his hand and walk away, he wished he’d let him follow.

Tags: @lyndz2names @gracev0609 @lipstickitty @sanguinebats @kultavalo

A/N: So there really is a program called Austin Soundwaves that does offer free private music lessons for children in that area. I was able to go to one of their concerts and the performer really did start belting Carmen, it was awesome. Support your local musicians 👏

#greta van fic #greta van fleet #danny wagner #jake kiszka #janny gvf

17 notes · View notes

icallhimjoey · 2 years

Note

I SQUEALED at Like A Poem, it made me fall in love with Joseph more (is that even possible?!) Will you continue the story soon?

who am i to not bring the people what they want Wordcount: 2.3K ----------

Like A Poem

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Joe was sat in one of the armchairs by the window, one ankle crossed over his knee, his spread wide. He held open a book with one hand, strong fingers, as he was writing things down in a little notebook he held on his lap with the other. His tongue was curled up in his focus where it softly caressed the left side of his top lip.

Without saying anything, you placed down a steaming mug of coffee, black, as you learned Joe liked it, on the side table next to him. Nothing fancy, just a brew from the machine in the breakroom you weren't technically allowed to serve to customers. But he had sat there for an hour, reading and writing, and you liked his quiet company.

Joe's eyes found you once he finished whatever he was scribbling and gave you a polite tightlipped smile by ways of saying thanks for the drink. From any other person it would’ve felt insincere, but Joe’s eyes were warm when he looked at you. He hadn't asked for anything to drink, but he didn't need to.

He had been deep in his concentration, doing important research, Joe would always call it.

The first time his behind had found the plush seat of the armchair, it had been busy in the shop as a little group of tourists had found your store and had come in to mainly marvel at the stacks of shelves. You didn’t have the time to pay him any mind, but Joe hadn’t come all the way to the store just for you be too busy to attend to him.

"Tell me if I'm in the way and I'll go," he had called over to you before sitting down and opening a book. He had spent over two hours reading there that day, and from then on, sometimes he would just come in and use your bookstore as if it were a library, occasionally buying the book he’d been reading to take home.

And you had told him, "There's more books and better seats to be sat in at actual libraries, where you don’t need to pay to take the books home, you know?" But Joe had been quick to disagree, casually listing several reasons why he thought your bookstore was a cut above any public London library.

"They don't serve such good coffee there."

"The ambience won't be right for my research."

"There's other people there."

That last one had made you laugh.

"Fun way to hint at bankruptcy, love that for me."

It was Sunday and Joe had come in a little after you had opened your doors. Sitting in the window as he was just now, you knew the bastard had dressed to fit the scene. Dark. Academic. Mysterious, if he didn't smile. It was a very handsome sight, and you were sure if people were to walk past and look into the window, they could mistake him for decoration. All he was missing was a rounded pair of glasses perched up on his nose, but he fit in fine without them too.

You wondered if you could sneak a pic.

It had been a few months since Joe had made his way back into your store after your first meeting. When you had opened your doors at 10 that next morning, flipping the sign at the door to 'open' before unlocking, Joe had already been waiting outside.

"Good morning," you had said as a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. You'd stalked directly over to the till and were about to ring Joe up for his copy of Blindness, successfully this time, when he stopped you.

"Do you mind if I have a look around?" Joe had said, already looking, hands tucked deep into his pockets, eyes trailing down a bookshelf with his head cocked to the side to read the spines.

"Of course," you had felt stupid for rushing. "Take your time, let me know if you need anything."

And then you had continued opening up shop. The A frame found it's spot back out front on the pavement, and displays were checked and straightened if needed.

It hadn't taken long for a stack of books to pile up in Joe's arms, and when you saw him trying to climb up one of the wooden ladders that gave access to the higher shelves above, you had kindly taken them from him to place them by the till alongside his copy of Blindness.

You remembered how the air in the shop had felt thick then. But you were sure it was just because you kept forgetting to breathe properly. Joseph Quinn was in your shop, and he was looking at all of your things. You had cursed yourself mentally for not knowing how dusty it really was up where he was pulling books from shelves to read the blurbs on the backs of them.

When the door had opened and another customer had walked in, you were surprised at your mixture of feelings. Don't intrude this moment, can't you see Joseph Quinn is attentively taking his time picking out books to take home? Whilst, at the same time the giddy thought, oh my God, a potential new customer! crossed your mind.

So of course, you had smiled at the customer warmly. The woman would've never been able to tell part of you didn't want her there.

"Good morning, how can I help you?"

When you had finished collecting books for the woman's son's reading list for school, Joe had made it over to the other side of your store, two more books in hand. You'd wished your new customer a nice day as she left, and then had taken a look at the selection of books Joe had already picked out. You remember being surprised by the wide range of genre.

"I'm usually great at working out what someone's like from what books they enjoy," you had started. Joe hadn't looked up at you at all, his eyes going over a lower shelf now, but you could see him smile.

"But this is kind of all over the place." you had inhaled sharply and had shaken your head, almost annoyed that your skill had seemed to falter.

"Not to challenge you any further but, I’ll add The Alchemist and Neuromancer to my purchase." Joe had placed them down in front of you as he had read out the titles. You furrowed your brow at them, trying to somehow decipher the additions.

You couldn't.

"Did you find everything you were looking for?" you hadn't liked the way you automatically fell into your customer-service-voice.

"I did, thank you," Joe had copied your tone, mocking you slightly, and it made you huff out a laugh.

As you scanned each barcode, Joe had explained that he was getting most of the books as gifts for family members, friends. It explained the miss-matched choice of literature. And when you held Blindness, he had commented that that one was just for him and it had made you grin.

"Can't wait for you to finish it, you'll find it's better than the film."

You'd made eyes at him, and it had tickled him into laughter. It was a sly dig, but also a hint at wanting to see him again, even if it was just to hear his thoughts on the novel.

"I'll warn you though," you slipped the books into a brown paper bag.

"The style of writing takes some getting used to, and there's not much character development, but it's gorgeously captivating." you spun the bag so the handle was facing Joe. "Thought-provoking. You'll see." And then you'd leant your arms wide on the counter, hanging into your shoulders, smiling at Joe through pursed lips.

Joe had paid, had thanked you, and had left.

Mentally you'd cursed at yourself for not having the balls to have snuck a bookmark into his bag with your number on. But maybe that would've been too forward. Joe knew where he could find you now, so all you could really do was hope he'd come back at some point in the future.

And Joe had come back. Quicker than you had thought he would. It was only the next day, the third day in a row of seeing him, when he had come in just before you were about to close. You had just tipped a full mug of tea over yourself, and were using a rag to feverishly blot it out of your white top when the bell from the door had startled you. It was Joe, and he seemed in a rush. He hadn't let go of the door-handle and just hovered in the entrance, his weight mostly on the leg that had stepped the furthest into your store. You had seen other people behind him, waiting for him out on the pavement.

"You were right. It was better than the film."

You had just stared at him, frozen in place, rag pressed up against your wet chest. Stunned.

You weren't sure what Joe had meant when he pointed a finger at you with one eye closed before turning on his heel and rushing out, waving at you through the window as he walked past it, his friends joining him in his step. You were sure about something else, though, and you remembered what your next thought had been...

I think I love him.

And now you watched Joe work from your spot behind the counter, enjoying a sip of your own coffee, just taking in the sight of him. Oh, how you wanted to be able to just sit down in the chair opposite him and bury yourself in a good novel as well. To be closer to him. You were sure your knees would almost touch if you did. You’d just be in each other’s silence, no other sounds filling the air other than your breathing, the occasional turning of a page and the scribbling noise of his pen to the paper. “It’s rude to stare,” Joe suddenly said, turning a page in his book, not even looking at you. You felt it was a way to signal he didn’t mind a chat, happy for some distraction after having been left to his own devices since he’d gotten in.

“What are you doing research on?” you asked, genuinely interested. Joe had small illegible handwriting, you couldn’t for the life of you read what he’d been writing down. Not with the distance between the two of you, anyway.

“Top secret.” Joe said, after taking a sip of coffee and pursing his lips as he swallowed which turned to a smile when he looked at you.

“How intriguing.” You left a silence, hoping it would coax Joe to fill it. It worked.

“I honestly can’t say,”

“From the books you’ve gathered, it must be a period piece,” you observed. You saw Joe’s eyes wander to the hardbacks he had plucked from your shelves and he showed a little concern at your first guess being correct.

“If you please could adjust your handwriting to be a little larger so I would actually be able to read those notes, you won’t get another question out of me,” you held both hands up in defense.

It made Joe close his notebook and put it down completely now.

“What’s it to you?” Joe narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously, his lips pursed still, trying to hide his smile. He put his coffee mug to his mouth, which helped.

“Just showing some polite interest in the man that’s been hogging a seat in my store for the past hour and a half,”

You didn’t tell him you’d just finished watching all episodes of the mini series Catherine The Great, just because it featured Joe.

“How kind of you, but I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to reveal anything.” He said, eyes crinkling at the corners because he was in love with you, as it so happened. Not that he was planning on saying anything or revealing that the sole reason he didn’t do his research online, like all other sensible actors, was because of you.

Joe finished his coffee and checked his phone for the time. A small gasp escaped his lips, his eyes big as he quickly got up. For a second you saw him contemplate something, turning to grab his notebook and then eyes on the books he’d been reading. He seemed late for something, time forgotten as it had slipped away from him.

“I’ll get those,” you left your spot behind the counter, moving to collect the books and place them back on the shelves where Joe had picked them up earlier.

“Sorry, I won’t make such a mess next time.”

It was hardly a mess. Joe didn’t move from where he stood, forcing you to get a little too close for comfort when reaching over. Joe smelled the perfume on your skin as the air fanned past him.

“That’s okay,” you said, collecting the books and making your way back to where you’d been standing.

“I’ve just- I’ve got a, thing,” Joe explained as he stalked towards the exit, not really revealing anything. That was okay, he didn’t owe you an explanation.

“Can you leave those out for me?” Joe said quickly before opening the door. “So I won’t have to search for them again tomorrow?”

Tomorrow.

You grinned, but were fast to let out a deep sigh.

“Library.” you pointedly said, giving him a look that made him laugh in defeat. But you left the books neatly stacked on a ledge, making sure Joe could see that yes, you would leave the books out for him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Joe said it like you were old friends, his head bent down slightly as he spoke before opening the door behind him and stepping out.

And you counted your blessings, happy Joe had found safety and comfort in your little space instead of following your advice and finding a much more convenient way to get the information he needed. part three

#like a poem #part 2 #joe quinn #joseph quinn #fanfiction #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joe x reader #joseph x reader #joey quinn #requested

359 notes · View notes

farfromstrange · 1 year

Text

Butterfly Effect | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Masterlist ; Chaos Theory (continuation)

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Barista!Reader Coffee Shop AU

Summary: After spending years in prison, Michael Kinsella gets to be a free man again. He wants to be a better man for his daughter – no, he needs to be if he wants to see her again. For that, he needs to leave the man he was in the name of his family behind and look forward. Though as a Kinsella, leaving the bloodshed and crime in the past seems sheerly impossible. After all these years, he's not sure where to with himself, but he is more than sure that he wants to try. In search of something familiar, he walks the streets of the city that have become a stranger to him now. Michael, in desperate need of a hot drink and a shield around the world, decides to give the new café that has replaced his and Jimmy's old favorite coffee shop a shot. It's where he meets you, a kind-hearted barista who seems more than determined to make him smile with a simple coffee order, and you slowly but steadily start to unravel his guarded heart.

Or, five times you take the first step, and the one time Michael finally takes a step toward you.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, mentions of canon-typical violence, eventual smut (additional warnings will be added before every chapter)

A/n: I considered long and hard if I should post this or the chapter first, but like this, I have some more time to edit. was planning to write it as a long One Shot, but then I looked at the word count of the first part and I decided this would be the best way to go. Each chapter is a One Shot, but they all connect and build on each other. I am on my Michael Kinsella shit. This is not too plot heavy, so you can read it even without having watched both seasons of the show (God knows I am guilty of not being through Season 2 yet either, so this will be loosely based on Season 1). But this is an AU, after all, and it's basically just me trying to give Mikey some much-needed comfort.

This is going to be a mini-series told in 7 parts!

Toffee Nut Latte

Butterfly Pea Flower On Ice

Irish Coffee

Dirty Chai

Double Espresso

Bittersweet Symphony

Butterfly Effect (Epilogue)

The form to my tag list can be found on my profile, but if you want to be tagged for this series specifically, just let me know!

#michael kinsella #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #kin (amc)#michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella fluff #michael kinsella smut #hurt/comfort #kin season 1 #charlie cox #reader insert #mini series #coffee shop au

138 notes · View notes

lilpunkrock · 2 years

Text

where you go (i will go) — part xii

Summary: When new events transpire in both your unconscious and the Waking World, you’re forced to confront that which you’ve been running from.

Words: 7.1k+

AN: I can honestly say this was my favorite part to write yet. I hope that feeling translates to all of you. Enjoy. x . . .

“Meet me where the lines blur together, it’s 4 AM and I can’t sleep…

I’m love sick, love sober; you left the light on when I had a broken heart.

I was free in the fall, now I’m lost in the moment;

I can breathe through the night even when it is hopeless;

You make me feel homesick."

Homesick, Dayseeker

. . . The honey-gold sand of the beach feels soft and fine between your toes. As a new wave of tide pulls toward you, you stretch your sun-kissed feet toward it, eager to dip them in the clear blue water.

Though your thick copy of Le Morte d’Arthur lays open in your hands, your attention is directed elsewhere. Mere feet away, Fake Dream sits on the beach, one long leg extended in front of him, the other drawn close to his chest. It provides the perfect perch for his arm and the well-worn copy of Eugene Onegin he holds in one hand. His sharp chin is dipped in concentration, his pink lips pursed as if to read the words aloud. His ocean eyes devote each word rapt attention, lingering thoughtfully on some pages before pulling slowly to others.

With each page his nimble fingers turn, a fuzzy warmth settles in your chest, swaddling your heart like cashmere. You suspect you could sit here like this forever. Given that none of this is real, you suppose you could.

As your eyes pull from his studious face, you can’t help but smile at the way his black cloak spills around him, rippling over the sand. A tiny sand crab scuttles over it, stopping to tug at his hem with one minuscule claw. You laugh through your nose at the sight, trying to be quiet, but the sound does not escape Fake Dream. His eyes are upon you instantly, wide and alert. “You are judging me,” he says, brow quirked and voice underlaid with mirth.

You shake your head at him, biting back your grin. “No, no, I’m not. It’s just nice to see you reading something other than a record of dreams, that’s all.” Your eyes settle on the slight curl at the corners of Eugene Onegin’s cover, the faded color of its well-worn paperback spine. “You know, if anyone had asked me before today, I definitely would have pegged you as an old Russian literature kind of guy. I know they say not to judge a book by its cover, but yours is pretty worn. I assume this isn’t your first time reading it?”

Dream cocks his head slightly, considering your words. “I appreciate literature from all cultures, though this piece is one I often come back to.” He pauses, blue eyes studying you thoughtfully. “Have you read it?”

“I haven’t.” You look down at the hefty copy of Le Morte d’Arthur in your hands, the cover faded slightly from the ghost of your own past readings. “Have you read mine?” you ask.

“I have.”

You roll your eyes at him with a chuckle. Of course he has. He probably planted the idea in Sir Thomas Malory’s mind himself. “What makes you keep coming back to that one?” you inquire, curious.

Fake Dream pauses, lowering his pale gaze to the novel in his hands. His thumb traces the edge of one page slowly, almost caringly. Reverent. A shiver trails down your spine in spite of the warm sun above. “I suppose I have never fully grasped the theme at the heart of it, though I suspect I am starting to.” His eyes rise to meet yours. “Regardless of how many times I read it, there is always more to learn.”

Your fingertips press into the hardback in your hands a little tighter. “Yes, yes there is.” . . . The crisp chill of winter nips at your cheeks affectionately as you emerge from Cliff’s coffee shop. The coffee in your hand is warm against your skin, the heat of the liquid seeping easily through the thin paper to-go cup. It reminds you of the searing of Desire’s thread against your palm, a memory that burns bright and fresh in your brain.

The thread of desire you’d encountered in the diner by the sea had only been the beginning. In the couple of weeks since you’d attempted to break it, you’d spent a portion of each morning finding another thread of Desire’s to attempt to destroy. It was painful work, a pursuit that demanded patience and persistence. Though you’d been unsuccessful in breaking one so far, you’d noticed a shift in the power within you. With each attempt, you found yourself capable of holding on to the threads for longer and longer.

Unfortunately, as your power seemed to intensify, so too did the bond’s resistance to you. The last thread you’d tried to break had resulted in a lash of pain through your abdomen so jarring that you’d dropped to your knees. A couple hours-worth of rest in bed were required before you’d been able to travel to the Dreaming that day. Convincing yourself that injury was a figment of your imagination had been harder than the rest.

As you weave through the weekday morning throng, making your way back to your townhome, a familiar head of blonde hair approaches you through the crowd. Speak of the devil. Your heartbeat quickens as Desire of the Endless falls into step beside you effortlessly. Besides for Death, you imagine that Desire spends the greatest amount of time walking amongst mortals. Their experience allows them to blend into the crowd seamlessly. Only you are aware of the predator that lurks in their midst.

Purposefully avoiding Desire’s golden gaze, you rack your brain for reasons why the Endless would approach you today. A jolt of fear spikes through you at the thought that they might know about your attempts to destroy their handiwork. Determined to hold your ground, you focus on the memory of the pain in your hand. Harnessing your anger, crowding out the fear. “Hello, Desire,” you say, your voice firm and monotone.

“Ah, she speaks. I was wondering when you’d stop giving me the cold shoulder.”

Your fingers tighten around your coffee cup at Desire’s exaggerated, saccharine tone. When they lean forward, trying to capture your attention, you keep your eyes trained forward. “It’s only been a couple of weeks since I was last in your insufferable presence. My apologies if I don’t have much to say.”

“Ooo, touchy, touchy,” Desire sings, their voice pitching with glee. “I must say, I like this new ‘bad bitch’ look on you, darling. Tail-tucked, woe-is-me Love was growing so boring.”

You grind your teeth as anger and embarrassment flare through you in equal measure. The familiar green door of your townhome is within sight now. Your feet move quickly beneath you. “What do you want, Desire?”

“Oh, you know, darling. Just wanted to check in on my dear old friend.” Sensing your haste, Desire quickens their pace, spinning flamboyantly to walk backwards in front of you. When your stride falters, a wide grin splits their face, all sharp teeth and sweet malice. “I sense a shift in you, little goddess. Perhaps there is something I can help you with. Something you desire?”

Their words send every muscle in your body tensing, instantly on edge. Could they know about the thread between you and Dream? Surely not. Desire had no reason to assume such a thing might be possible and no cause for investigating it. Even you still didn’t know whether the philia attachment between yourself and the Dream Lord was platonic or romantic. The thought of checking was a constant presence in the back of your mind, a curiosity that made you equally excited and nauseous. You’d refused to indulge it thus far.

A master of deception, determining whether Desire was lying or not was nearly impossible. Biting the inside or your cheek, you quicken your pace and slip around them. “Perhaps you should take a page from your brother’s book and cease meddling in the affairs of other deities,” you retort, calling their bluff.

Desire slips into step beside you once again, their eyes wide pools of molten gold. Your townhome door draws closer by the second. Just a little farther. You’re almost there. “Ah, yes, Dream. You two have been spending a lot of time together lately, have you not?” Desire presses toward you, demanding your attention. “How’s that going for you?”

You fish into your pocket for your keys with haste, taking the final steps to your front door in a rush. “Goodbye, Desire,” you call with feigned nonchalance. Heart in your throat, you unlock the door and slip through the crack, slamming it in the Endless’s face before they have the chance to protest.

The silence that greets you on the other side of the door feels heaven-sent. You draw in a deep breath, allowing the stillness of the air to fill your lungs, holding it there. Hoping to clear Desire’s words from your frantic mind.

Perhaps there is something I can help you with. Something you desire?

You give a rough shake of your head, as if doing so might dispel the thought once and for all. As you step into the living room, a flash of red from the kitchen catches your attention. The voicemail light on your landline blinks quickly, indicating a new message awaits you.

Your eyebrows furrow as you walk to the kitchen. The landline was more of a formality than anything. It wasn’t as if you gave the number out to many people, mostly just mortal companies that promised you ten-percent-off coupons if you registered with a phone number. You rarely got calls that weren’t spam. You certainly never got messages.

As you lift the phone from its holder and navigate to the voicemail section, your eyes settle on a familiar-looking number. Deja vu washes over you as you stare at it. Some distant part of your brain recognizes the number as significant, yet you can’t remember where you’ve seen it before.

It’s not until you click ‘play’ and hear a familiar female voice that realization hits you like a ton of bricks. Your heart drops to your stomach like a stone. . . . Today, there are no mix-ups, no accidental appearing in one part of the Dreaming when you meant to travel to another. When the Dream Lord’s sand pours from your hand, it’s as if it reads your very heart, as if it knows exactly where to go. It carries you to the throne room in a flurry of pale grains, depositing you mere yards away from Dream himself. He stands at the foot of the throne room staircase, speaking quietly with Abel of the House of Secrets.

A soft sniffle escapes you as your sneakers pad across the throne room floor, carrying you toward them. In your arms, Theo nuzzles his nose against the underside of your chin, licking a stray tear from your skin.

“Dream.” The call comes out more like a croak, your throat tight with emotion. When the Dream Lord’s star-lit gaze snaps to you, his pale eyes wide and expression taken aback, you feel you can’t breathe for an entirely different reason. You stop in your tracks instantly, holding Theo close to your chest. “Come with me. Please.” . . . Small flecks of snow drift from the gray sky above, clinging delicately to your hair and cheeks. You draw Theo’s warm body into the folds of your winter coat, seeking to shield him from the cold. His favorite toy, a stuffing-less fox, is gripped tightly in your free hand. A lifeline.

As your eyes settle on the familiar sign of the animal shelter in front of you, a dizzying concoction of anxiety, sorrow, and excitement rolls through you. You swallow thickly, fighting back the nausea that comes along with it. “Thank you for coming with me,” your voice comes out as a whisper.

Beside you, Dream of the Endless stands with his hands in his coat pockets, still as the winter air. When he inclines his head toward you, there are snowflakes nesting in his wild hair, clinging to his dark eyelashes. When you draw in another breath, it comes a little easier than the last. “You need not thank me,” he murmurs, his voice surprisingly soft.

“I want to.” Your eyes fall to where you hold Theo with one arm, pressed against your chest like a toddler. He gazes up at you with childlike wonder, all rose-colored glasses and curiosity. You press a warm kiss to the tip of his cold, leathery nose, a feeling you’d recognize anywhere. As another wave of nausea rolls through you, you bury your swollen eyes in his fur. “I don’t know, Dream. I don’t know if I can do this.”

For a moment, all is still. And then, the soft jingle of a bell pierces the air. When you lift your face from Theo’s neck, the Dream Lord stands at the shelter’s entrance, holding the door open with one pale hand. Though he speaks no words, his blue eyes hold yours steadily. Staring at him, a small voice whispers from the back of your mind, Yes, you can.

Warmth floods your cheeks as you step over the threshold and into the familiar lobby of the shelter. The dark-skinned woman working the front desk is instantly recognizable to you–she was the one who helped you fill out your paperwork the day you chose to foster Theo. No amount of time could ever erase the memory of his dark eyes meeting yours for the first time, of the warmth that had flooded your heart when his furry head slipped into your palm. It had fit like a glove, and still did. In spite of the fact that his leash is looped over your shoulder, you hold tightly to him, eager to keep him in your arms as long as you can.

As you and Dream approach the front desk, the receptionist raises her head, appraising Dream’s lithe, dark form with curious eyes. You wonder if she can sense an otherworldliness about him, some aura that you have grown accustomed to. You draw a step closer to him instinctively.

“Hello,” you greet the woman quietly. At the appearance of this new friend, Theo begins to wag his tail. You adjust your hold to keep him comfortable. “I’m here with Theo. I got a call that he’s ready to be adopted?”

The dark-skinned woman’s eyes pull from Dream to you, lighting up at your words. “Ah, yes! Love. It’s great to see you again. It looks as if sweet Theo has been very well cared for.” She rises from her chair with a smile. “The family is in the back getting his records and starter kit now. I’ll go grab them.”

Your throat spasms, wanting to protest. You bite back the urge as she slips through a door behind her desk. For a moment, you’re ashamed at your selfish heart, ashamed of the fact that you are so hesitant to let him go. When you had returned the voicemail, the worker at the shelter had told you about Theo’s new family. A husband and wife with two young boys and another dog similar in age to Theo. The wife even worked from home. He would have multiple playmates and receive endless love and attention. More than you could ever offer him, especially now that you spent time in both your Realm and the Dreaming. It was a perfect match.

And yet, as you tilt your chin to gaze down at your beloved friend, your heart still aches. Would they accept his mouth kisses with glee like you have? Would they trace that precious dip between his eyes, stroke loving fingers over his furry cheeks like you have? Would they kiss his paws every morning, hold him close until he falls asleep at night, give him their whole heart, just like you have? You could only hope and pray.

Pressing your nose into his fur once again, you inhale his familiar scent deeply–the perfect concoction of puppy musk and freshly laundered cotton. You can still remember the first time you’d found him burrowed into your bed sheets, not even a week after you’d first brought him home. Closing your eyes, you commit the scent to memory. Though you feel Dream’s eyes on you, you sense no judgment from him. You’re grateful he’s here, his familiar presence comforting.

When the door to the back of the shelter opens, your head lifts immediately. You’re greeted by two dark-haired young boys and a middle-aged woman whom they are a clear spitting image of. The boys come toward you in a rush, their grins wide and eager, proudly displaying several missing teeth. You wonder if they’re still young enough to believe in the tooth fairy.

When one of the boys reaches out to pet Theo’s head, you crouch down to his level. As his small hand finds the sweet spot behind Theo’s ear, Theo’s tail begins to swish against the front of your coat. Your heart swells with delight and breaks into a million pieces all at once.

“Mom, he’s perfect,” the little boy petting Theo’s head says. His smile is as radiant as the sun, warming the whole room. “Milo’s gonna get along so great with him.”

You smile at him kindly, then shift your gaze to the young boy who has yet to pet Theo. With a reluctant heart, you take a crouched step closer to him, asking, “Would you like to hold him?”

Wide-eyed and grinning, the child nods eagerly. You instruct him on how to hold Theo just so, looping your furry friend’s front paws around the boy’s neck, showing him how to slip one arm under Theo’s tail. When Theo gazes adoringly at the child, placing a tentative, exploratory lick to the underside of his chin, a wave of relief and bittersweetness washes through you.

When you rise to your feet, your eyes turn to the mother. Her emerald eyes regard you kindly. “Thank you for caring for this sweet pup all this time. I’m sure today isn’t easy,” she says, offering you a warm smile.

Something about her words, the thoughtful empathy that underlays them, forms a pit at the base of your throat. A familiar prickling begins to surface behind your eyes. You blink quickly, trying to clear it away. “He loves Cheez-Its.” The words escape you in a rush, impassioned. “And licking the cream cheese from your fingers when you make your morning bagel. He loves to eat dead leaves, but don’t let him eat too many, because he has a really sensitive stomach. If he throws up on your carpet, and he definitely will, a little all-purpose cleaner and Shout will clean it right up. He makes this adorable squeaking sound when he yawns, like an old door hinge, and he loves morning cuddles. He’ll let you hold him just like a baby.” You swallow thickly, fighting to keep your mouth from contorting, to keep the tears from falling. “He’ll be your best friend.”

The woman’s smile turns wistful as she studies you, soaking in your words. When she takes her children into her arms, the four of them look like a picture-perfect family. Your saddened heart lifts at the sight. “I promise you we will take the very best care of him. He won’t want for anything,” she assures you.

You nod once, stiffly. When your gaze falls to Theo, you find him already looking up at you, doe-eyes wide and gleaming. You drop to your knees in front of him. The child holding him turns slightly, affording you a better look at his sweet, furry face.

“Well, I guess this is it, little love,” you whisper, your voice warbled and tight. Leaning forward, you press a trembling kiss to the tip of his leathery nose. Theo quickly returns the gesture, licking you full on the lips. You couldn’t hold back the peal of laughter that springs from you if you tried. “I love you so much, buddy. Please don’t forget me. I promise I won’t forget you.” You give him a final loving scratch behind his ears, then bury your mouth against his cheek, whispering, “I’ll see you again. I promise.”

When you walk out of the shelter’s doors minutes later, the cold that pricks at your face is a welcome feeling. It nips at your tear-rimmed eyes, soothing them, calming you. Your thoughts are already on the future, on your intention to travel to the Realm of Attachment later today. You’ll pluck the threads of storge between Theo and his new family until they light their entire home.

The Dream Lord follows behind you like a shadow. He hasn’t said a word since you first arrived at the shelter. When you pause on the sidewalk outside, he stops beside you. Finally, he breaks his silence, his low voice gently inquiring, “If you care for him so deeply, why not keep him? Why did you choose to let him go?”

The corners of your lips lift ever so slightly at his question. It was one you’d asked yourself countless times in the months you’d fostered Theo, knowing full well that this day would one day come. Hell, you’d even pondered it earlier when you’d received that voicemail. Should I adopt him myself, or should I let him go? In the end, the answer, bittersweet as it was, had come quickly to you. “As much as I love Theo, I couldn’t give him all he deserved. I’ve been away a lot, especially in these last few months. This family…they’ll be able to give him more than I can. The utmost happiness is all I want for him. I want it more than I want happiness for myself.”

When you turn your head, you find Dream watching you quietly, eyes bright and keen. Despite the weight his gaze carries, you force yourself to hold it, to give him a small, wistful smile. “Sometimes, if you love something, Dream, the best thing you can do is let it go.” . . . As you slip into the soft embrace of unconsciousness, the familiar whisper of waves is not the only sensation that greets you. A gentle, repetitive pressure coaxes you into alertness, a bizarre sensation that feels like soft, wet sandpaper. Familiar. You know this feeling…

In an instant, your eyes snap open. “Theo?”

Theo’s furry face is bent over where you lie in the sand, all sloppy, wet tongue and dark, gleaming eyes. You sit up with a start, eagerly taking him in your arms, running your hands over his warm, squirmy body. You know this can’t be real. You gave him to his new family just earlier today. And you’re sitting on that honey-gold beach by the Tiffany blue sea, which tells you you’re steeped deep in your unconsciousness.

And yet, Theo’s form feels so real beneath your hands. His ears are as floppy as ever, his curls as soft as silk under your palms. Once again, your unconscious ability to commit physical characteristics to memory has astounded you.

But there’s one familiar figure you haven’t seen yet. As Theo buries himself in your arms, eagerly lapping at your chin, your eyes sweep across the beach. And there he is, standing only a few feet away. The radiant sun frames Fake Dream’s tall, slender form in white gold. As you stare at him, something seems off to you. It takes a moment to register the difference, but when you do, the realization steals the breath straight from your lungs. Because Fake Dream’s lips are not downturned in a scowl, or flattened in indifference. No, one corner of those rosebud lips is ever so slightly upturned into the faintest ghost of a smile.

It’s a gesture that carries significance, a deviation from his normal stoicism that you’ve only seen directed toward Hob, Matthew, or Lucienne. That gesture, so sparingly given, has never been directed at you before. Heart caught in the base of your throat, the realization that you would do anything to hold it there, to see it again and again, hits you like a ton of bricks. To see it in real life. Because that’s how you know this is fake. Real Dream has never offered you such a display.

But in this moment, it doesn’t matter that any of this is fake. All that matters is Theo’s kisses on your face, his furry body in your arms, and Fake Dream’s quirked lips. All that matters is that it feels real, even if it’s not.

Once, you had dreaded slipping into unconsciousness at night. Now, you feel yourself hesitating to leave it with the dawn. . . . When you step out of the vortex of sand and into the open grove of Fiddler’s Green, the lush flora and fauna seem to reach to greet you. Blades of grass sprout beneath your feet with each step, framing your sneakers in brilliant green. Dandelions crane their necks to graze your ankles, while golden Russell lupine incline to brush against your knuckles.

You caress them in kind, a soft smile gracing your lips. I missed you, too, you think fondly, bending to enjoy the sweet scent emanating from the delicate petals. And it was true. Ever since Theo had gone to his new family a few days prior, you’d been spending more and more of your hours in the Dreaming. The silence of your townhome felt too quiet, the stillness too empty. While you’d been slipping away to perform your duties and snag a few hours of rest, even a short period away from Dream Country left you eager to return as of late.

That familiar pull takes up in your chest as you walk through the grove, coaxing you toward the palace, toward the Dream Lord. With a smile, you pull the pouch of Dream’s sand from your pocket. A fresh handful spirits you from the open fields of Fiddler’s Green to the familiar warmth and clutter of the Library of Dreams. You spot Lucienne immediately, her regal, coat-tailed silhouette pacing in front of the colossal doors to the throne room.

“Lucienne!” you call as you approach her. She swivels instantly at your exclamation, pausing in her incessant pacing to look at you. You immediately catch the furrow in her brow, the tight clasp of her hands behind her back. Your lips mirror her frown as you come to a slow stop before her. “Is something wrong?”

Lucienne’s full lips part and close several times, as if seeking the right words to say. Her hesitation makes your heart stutter in your chest. Finally, she bows her head apologetically at you. “Forgive me, Miss Love, for my frazzled state. All is well in the Dreaming. It is just that Lord Morpheus has welcomed a rather…unexpected guest to the palace today.”

Your eyebrows shoot up at her words, your interest thoroughly piqued. What kind of guest would leave Lucienne frazzled? “A guest? Who?”

Lucienne lowers her gaze to the floor. You get the impression that she’s mulling over whether to divulge the identity of this mysterious guest. Perhaps it’s someone Dream wishes to keep a secret. Just as you’re about to reassure her that she doesn’t have to tell you, she lifts her gaze to yours. “It is Lord Morpheus’s former spouse. The Muse, Calliope.”

There is a distinctly bottomless sensation as the floor of the library is ripped out from underneath you, sending you plummeting down, down, down.

Oh.

“Oh.” The word is out of your mouth without contemplation. It hangs in the air between you, awkward and plain, making the heavy silence heavier. Clearing your throat, you scramble for some kind of coherent thought to add on to it. “And that is concerning…why?”

“After their…separation, Lord Morpheus became bitter and angry. Their parting was steeped in loss, and it darkened him.” She pauses, turning to glance at the closed doors behind her. The pull in your chest thrums as she does, urging you to walk through them, to go where Dream lies on the other side. “His countenance seems much improved today, I must say. Still, I’m a little nervous. It has been a long time since the Lady Calliope has been in the Dreaming.”

His countenance is much improved. The Lady Calliope. A tight knot tangles itself at the base of your throat, making it difficult to breathe. Your mind turns to the red eros and green storge attachments that had linked Dream and Calliope’s names in his book in your library. The book could not tell you what was current and what was not. It was a record, and nothing more. Still, Lucienne’s description of Dream’s ‘improved countenance’ leaves a strange feeling in your stomach. “Any idea what they’re talking about?” you ask, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

“I haven't a clue.”

Your lips tighten into a hard line as your stomach turns. You suspect you know exactly what they’re talking about. In spite of the unease pooling in your gut, you smile at Lucienne. “Okay. Well, I, uh…I guess I’ll just wait, then. Read some books until they’re done. Will you come find me when they’re finished?”

“I will, Miss Love.”

You turn on your heel without a farewell, acutely aware of the fact that you’re acting totally out of character. Acutely aware of the fact that this deviation will not slip past Lucienne, as astute as she is. You dive into the aisles of bookshelves swiftly, eyes ignoring the signposts displaying years and letters above you, instead trained only on what is in front of you. Adrenaline propels you forward, away from others and their prying eyes, eager to be alone with your thoughts.

After several minutes of twisting and turning, you find yourself among the first-century ‘Z’s.’ A relatively sparse collection in the grand scheme of the universe, and a spot you feel others are unlikely to journey to. It’s here that you press your back against the bookshelves and sink to the floor with a bone-deep sigh. Only here do you allow the mask to slip aside and the dam to break as the full weight of your emotions washes through you.

First comes the disbelief, hollow and cold. One of the Dream Lord’s former lovers–no, his ex-wife, the mother of his child–was here in the Dreaming. The mere thought sends your head spinning so wildly that you cradle it in your hands. Though you had heard the stories and seen the names in his book with your very own eyes, the Dream Lord’s past lovers had always felt like distant figments to you, almost more like myths than reality. You had never suspected that a day like this might come.

Anger comes next, taking you off-guard. It boils up from a place deep within you, coiling tightly in your stomach, simmering in your veins. Anger at what, you’re not sure. Perhaps at yourself for acting a fool, for not being able to control your emotions? You had no right to be angry with anyone else. Fingernails drag across your scalp as you comb anxious fingers through your hair. In spite of the deep breaths you try to calm yourself with, the relentless hammering of your heart doesn’t stop.

It’s from that hammering heart that the next emotion swells, clouding your thoughts, making you dizzy. Panic. Panic over what the two of them could be talking about. Though Lucienne claimed to have no clue, the answer seemed obvious in your mind. Dream’s sentiments from that night on the dock, his apparent dismay at not understanding why his past relationships had ended in ruin, burns in your memory like a brand. ‘Love is as much about sacrifice as it is about reward.’ That’s what you’d told him. He must have found his answer within that sentence. Must have learned his lesson.

And now, he was reuniting with his former wife, the mother of his lost child, with the intention of getting things right.

As you curl your knees to your chest, resting your forehead against them, a new sensation sweeps through you. Or rather, the absence of sensation. As the heat of your anger and the turmoil of your panic drain away, a numbness takes their place. It’s familiar, this bone-deep emptiness, this feeling of being carved out and left unfilled. You fold into yourself tightly, making yourself as small as possible. As if doing so might grant reprieve from this feeling that has plagued you so many times in your long, long existence. Sorrow.

What reason do you have to be sad? that incessant voice of logic hisses in the back of your mind. You should be happy for him.

Shame rides on the coattails of the voice’s words, thick and nauseating. Still, it’s a welcome relief from the sorrow, and you hold tightly to it. Indeed, why were you sad? Dream was reuniting with his lost love. They were getting a second chance at happiness. He deserved to be happy. Plus, with Dream and Calliope’s relationship rekindled, you wouldn’t have to worry about the philia attachment between you anymore. It was as good as platonic.

You draw in slow, deep breaths, waiting for the emptiness in your bones to fade. Waiting for it to be replaced with that overwhelming feeling of radiant rightness that filled your soul every time you fulfilled an attachment, every time a love match found its way.

Still, the sorrow remains.

Hoping to outwait the feeling, you remain where you are, tightly folded in on yourself amid the aisles of the Library of Dreams. When you hear quiet footsteps approaching you, you’re unsure of how long you’ve been sitting here. The only thing you’re sure of is that you haven’t outwaited anything.

“Miss Love.” The soft tone of Lucienne’s voice coaxes your head upwards, unfurling you from within yourself. She stands a few feet away at the edge of the aisle. You can spot the concern in her dark eyes from here. “Are you alright?”

You offer her a small, crooked smile. Rising to your feet, you lie, “Yes, I’m fine, Lucienne. Just tired, is all. Is he ready for me?”

Lucienne draws in a breath to speak, then hesitates. She clearly doesn’t believe you. Indecision wages war in her brown eyes. You can practically see her weighing the scales, contemplating whether to cling to formality and proceed forward, or potentially overstep a boundary by prying further. You’re not sure which option terrifies you more.

After a long moment of silence, Lucienne gives a brief nod. She speaks no words as she beckons you to follow, and you trail after her in silence. As you weave through the labyrinth of bookshelves, a part of you wonders what made her choose silence over inquiry. Perhaps a lifetime of trying to provide emotional support to Dream, only to often be rebuffed, has made her believe that some individuals simply do not want to be helped. The thought makes your heart ache.

When you walk into the main corridor of the library, you find that the towering throne room doors are now wide open. Two forms stand on the other side of the doorway, their silhouettes outlined in emerald, ruby, and sapphire from the stained glass windows behind them.

Though Lucienne stops at the edge of the bookshelves, your feet carry you forward, unbidden. Dream’s dark, lithe form is leaned over, whispering something in the ear of the dark-haired woman facing him. Your cheeks flush as you come to a stop outside the throne room doors. Calliope.

When the Muse turns away from Dream, toward you, you go still as a stone. It’s instantly evident why Dream fell for her. Her ethereal form seems almost weightless as she glides toward the library, her sandaled feet barely touching the floor. Her brilliant white peplos floats about her like foam on the sea. Ringlets of dark-brown hair spill over her shoulders, framing the soft features of her kind face. There is a grace and freedom in her movements that you’ve never seen in another being, an effervescence that she carries effortlessly.

The King of Dreams and Nightmares and a Muse of divine inspiration. The perfect pair. You swallow thickly.

As Calliope exits the throne room, you expect her to dissipate into feathers, or at least bypass you entirely. When her warm brown eyes settle on you, you hold your breath. Or, rather, your breath holds you.

Calliope approaches you silently, coming to a stop within arm’s reach. You’re certain she must hear the pounding of your heart in your chest. If she does, she doesn’t show it. Slowly, she reaches out, taking your hands in both of her own. Frozen in place, you allow her to do so, halfway convinced that you must have spontaneously developed the ability to dream. Halfway certain that none of this is real.

When Calliope gives your hands a gentle squeeze, however, you’re assured that this is no dream.

“Watch over him. Please,” she says softly, her voice as sweet as wine and honey.

Your lips part in awe. Your mind tailspins, caught between wanting to run and wanting to stay, wanting to ask her questions and wanting to question nothing.

“Yeah,” you breathe. It’s the only coherent thought you’re able to articulate.

Calliope’s plush lips draw into a warm, pleased smile. She gives your fingers one last squeeze. And then she slips away, gone like a petal in the wind.

You find that you can’t watch as she drifts away to exit the Dreaming. As weightless as she seemed, the weight of this moment feels all too heavy. Your gaze remains affixed on your hands, still extended from where she held them. Your mind struggles to wrestle with her simple words, the complex implication behind them.

The quiet clearing of a throat snaps you out of your thoughts. When your eyes dart upward, you find that Dream has crossed the throne room to stand before you in Calliope’s place. The proximity of his body to yours makes your skin hum. The way his ocean eyes regard you with a palpable gentleness makes your stomach flip.

“Are you ready?” Dream asks, his rosebud lips caressing each word with care.

At first, you’re not sure what he means. Then, the realization dawns on you. Work. Of course. You offer him a small, tentative smile, shoving down the tempest of emotions storming within you.

But only temporarily. You know now what you have to do. “Yes.” . . . Hours later, after all your work with Dream is done, you slip into the Dreaming under cover of night with a palmful of sand. Unlike normal, you don’t immediately go in search of Matthew, Lucienne, or even Dream.

No, your first stop is Mervyn Pumpkinhead’s personal quarters within the palace. You slip through the door in silence, like a dream in the night. A featherlight touch to his quietly snoring chest is all it takes to step into the Realm of Attachment from there.

The transition to the radiance of your Realm from the nighttime shadows of the Dreaming is jarring. The only thing that doesn’t catch you off-guard is the brilliant white thread you find unfurling from your chest. Philia.

Though its presence comes as no surprise to you, the sight of it still takes your breath away. It’s the first time you’ve ever laid eyes on it, the first time you’ve ever seen any attachment originate from within yourself. Its white glow brightens and dims in time with your heartbeat, a pattern that quickens the longer you stare at it. You exit Mervyn’s room swiftly, before you can change your mind.

The white thread guides you out of the living quarters, through the palace’s long, wide halls and winding staircases, into the Library of Dreams. The attachment leads straight across the main corridor, stretching over the reading tables before disappearing into the colossal doors at the opposite end. With a deep, calming breath, you slip through the throne room doors like a ghost.

Dream of the Endless stands on the other side, his solitary form a dark run of ink in the center of the throne room. Hands clasped behind his back, his black cloak spills around him, pooling at his feet. You approach his still form with slow, careful steps, in spite of the fact that you know he can’t see you. With each step you take, the thread between you grows shorter and shorter. With each inch you lose, your heart flutters faster.

You step in front of him, seeking his face, only to find it turned toward the open ceiling above. While you know he is staring at the star-speckled cosmos that lie above the palace’s trusses, the Realm of Attachment affords you no cosmos. Instead, a kaleidoscope of colors is reflected in his pale blue eyes, a mirror image of the rainbow threads above.

A soft smile pulls at your lips at the sight of him here, pondering the night sky after a long day of work. You suddenly realize that you’ve never asked him if he has his own resting hours to retreat into. While other deities remain dreamless, does the Dream Lord himself ever dream?

In any other realm, you’d be wary of staring too long, worried that his keen gaze might take notice. The knowledge that he can’t see you now is…comforting. Allowing yourself the simple pleasure of studying his features, unhurried and unabashed, feels like a gift. Your eyes trace the perpetual disarray of his raven hair, the stray strands that fall over his forehead. They brush against the lush, dark lashes that frame his ocean eyes–ever bright, ever pondering. The light of the rainbow sky above casts his alabaster skin in an array of colors, accentuating the proud bridge of his nose, the faint dimple at its tip. Tilted upwards in thought, that sharp jaw could cut your heart out. The faint ghost of a shadow along it, creeping down to the top of this throat, sends a delicious warmth spreading from the top of your scalp to the tips of your toes.

And his lips. Maker, his lips. Pink as a rosebud, they part softly as he ponders the heavens above, as if searching for answers. Answers to what, you don’t know. Standing this close, you notice for the first time that his bottom lip is slightly fuller than the top. The urge to draw the pad of your thumb over it, to test its softness, its fullness, is sudden and overwhelming. Not a curiosity, or a want, but a need.

He’s beautiful, you admit to yourself for the very first time. Warmth blooms inside your chest, caressing your heart in gentle hands. The philia attachment between you beams in kind, illuminating both of your faces in its radiant glow.

You swallow, nerves stealing the grin from your lips, turning your mouth to sandpaper. It’s time. Time to do it now, before you lose whatever courage you have left.

The hammer of your heart is all you know as you wrap your hand around the thread with conviction.

Show me. . . . AN: Sneak peek content for anyone who sends me theories about Eugene Onegin and Le Morte d’Arthur. x

220 notes · View notes