mouth nails

Bitter/Sweet [1/1]

Baby ficlet for Fantasy Pretzel Week day 6! Rated T. Fluff and Smee. 1.3k.

Day Six: Prompt: Coffee Shop trope in the Enchanted Forest.

“Are you entirely sure about this?”

Emma wavers at the top of the ladder, and grunts her assent through a mouth full of nails as she lines up the hammer for another go.

“I mean, coffee. It doesn’t even sound tasty.”

Rolling her eyes, she spits the remaining nails into her hand and looks down at where her so-called friend is holding the rickety ladder steady, her brow furrowed.

“Trust me on this, Mary Margaret. It’s going to be huge.”

There’s a burst of laughter from the building to their right as the door swings open, and both women turn to look as a man stagger out into the street, slightly the worse for drink going by the way he sways towards them.

“What’s this then?” he slurs, pausing next to Mary Margaret and squinting up at the sign Emma’s just nailed in place. “Robin got competition has he?”

“Depends,” Emma says, eyeing the man’s disheveled appearance and long leather duster distrustfully. “Don’t know if I want his clientele.”

She expects the man to reel back at that - spit on the ground and walk away, in the time honored tradition of all the men she’s shot down - but instead he sways a little closer, peering at her shrewdly from beneath expressive black brows.

“I’ll wager you’ll find out,” he says, and drops into a ridiculous bow that has Mary Margaret blushing. “Best of luck, ladies. I suspect you might need it.”

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Monday 8:27am
I woke up with you on my mind.
You called me babe last night —
my heart is still pounding.

Tuesday 10:53pm
Today I realized we won’t work.
What we are is hurting her.
And I think she matters more to me than you do.

Wednesday 11:52pm
I broke things off with you today.
She barely said a word.
I’ve never regretted anything more than this.

Thursday 4:03pm
I shouldn’t have sent that message.
You shouldn’t have been so okay with receiving it.

Friday 9:57pm
I almost messaged you today.
I didn’t.

Saturday 8:49pm
I’m walking around town in search of alcohol.
They say that liquor numbs the pain of having a broken heart.
I want to put that to the test.

Sunday 2:32am
I heard you texted a girl you’ve never spoken to before.
I wonder if it’s because you’re trying to replace me.
I can’t help but wish you weren’t.
I thought I was irreplaceable.

—  a week with you on my mind, c.j.n.
Move on, leave, run away, escape this place… but don’t forget about me, about us, about this town. Always remember where you come from so you can appreciate how far you’ve come.
—  c.j.n.