sure, i used to be a regular, but i literally haven’t been to this coffee shop in two years. how do you still remember my order??
you wrote my name down wrong the first time i came here and i didn’t correct you, but you’re really sweet and now i don’t know how to tell you you’ve been calling me by the wrong name for the past month.
i’m the manager and one of the other employees keeps drawing amazing art on the chalkboards, but i can’t figure out who it is?? i’ve been keeping a meticulous schedule to figure out whose shift it appears during
i work opening shift, but whenever i get there at 5:30 somehow you’re always already there, looking flawlessly put together. you haven’t even had your coffee yet. tell me your secrets.
we’re coworkers but we work different shifts and communicate exclusively through post-it notes. maybe i should just give you my phone number already so you can tell me more about the lady who ordered a latte for her ten year old.
you and your friend always sit at the table a couple down from mine and gossip in [insert language here], which happens to be a language i’m currently learning. i’ve been eavesdropping to try and improve my listening comprehension and oh my god are you actually talking about how hot i am???
i love hot chocolate So Much but it’s embarrassing to be the adult ordering hot chocolate at a coffee shop, so do you think you could announce that it’s a different drink when you’re giving it to me??
at the local coffee shop, there’s a chess set set up in one corner of the shop and every morning i move one piece. later in the day, someone else always moves a piece too. i’m dying to know who i’m playing against.
i’m a new hire and you’re trying to show me how to use the espresso machine. i actually already know how to use it, but i’m pretending to be incompetent so that you’ll keep talking to me. please don’t fire me.
They’re now available as matte prints in my shop! Not sure if it’s worth mentioning but IRL the purple and blue colours differ more but for some reason my camera didn’t feel like capturing it (or it’s my laptop that just shows it like this)
Note: I’ve been sick so I haven’t been able to get too many requests done. but I really enjoyed writing this! I do hope you like it! feedback is welcome! thanks for the request, sweetie .c
Request: Bucky gets jealous and protective when he finds out that a man has been showering you, his wife, with gifts and presents and letters and confronts that man :-D
If one thing about Bucky was for certain: he despises another male giving you attention. He spent years and years believing nobody could ever love him, and he’d be damned if he let another man swoop in and steal you away, the one who loves him dearly. Though, countless times you’ve assured Bucky that he’s the only man you have eyes on, and you’d never leave him, he was still protective of you.
Bucky was startled out of his deep slumber early in the morning, to find the postman holding a bouquet of roses, asking for him to sign for them. His stomach twisted and his eyes squinted at the brightly colored flowers.
“Are you sure this is the right address? I didn’t order flowers.” Bucky always hand picked your flowers, never bought, except on special occasions. You preferred handpicked, enjoying the special meaning behind them a lot more than a floral shop arrangement. But sometimes Bucky would surprise you. This was not one of those times.
The postman nodded and gave Bucky a friendly smile. “Yep! Y/N Y/L/N still lives here, right?” The postman asks, noticing Bucky’s eyes flitting back and forth across his face. “What’s it to you?” Bucky snaps, angrily taking the vase from the postman’s hand.
The postman’s eyes widen and he stands there, shocked. “Just making sure. The floral shop has no time for mistakes.” He said before turning on his heel and rushing away to finish his route.
Bucky sighed heavily as he looked for a note attached to the roses. He wanted to throw them away, maybe even stomp on them and hunt the asshole down and give him a piece of his mind. But instead, he waited patiently for you to finish showering before he acted on his emotions.
He sat them on the kitchen island in your shared apartment, wracking his brain as to who would send you, his wife, such an intimate gift. It couldn’t have been someone from your family; sadly so, you lost connections after being recruited. The guys on the team knew better to pull a prank like this; trying to woo his woman, they knew he’d stop at nothing to make sure every last flower was shoved so far up-
“Ooo, pretty!” Your voice rang through the kitchen as you skipped over to Bucky. Bucky’s heart sank at the sound of the excitement coming from your pretty mouth he loves to kiss so much. “Bucky, you shouldn’t have!” You smiled brightly, leaning over to him and placing a kiss to his cheek.
He frowned at your reaction, knowing how happy you got anytime he ever got you flowers. “I didn’t.” Bucky mumbled with a frown, his tired eyes falling to your hand on his arm. Your eyebrows creased with confusion. Your eyes scanned the bouquet, searching for a card as you twisted the vase around. Only then did you realize there wasn’t one.
“Well, who would’ve sent me these?” You asked softly, nobody coming to mind. Bucky shrugged and you tapped your fingers against the kitchen island. “I don’t like this.” Bucky grumbled before getting off the seat and pacing the kitchen.
You sighed and almost rolled your eyes at him, but even this confused you. “Well, why don’t I take them to the little old lady down the street later?” You offered with a small smile, wanting to get these away from Bucky before the vase was thrown into the wall. Or worse, into the head of the person that sent them.
Bucky nodded and looked over at you, his heart warming at the sight of your still wet hair and bright eyes. He never understood how someone could look so beautiful without even trying. So no, he was not about to let someone else see you this way.
You walked over to him and pulled him into you, your arms wrapping around his waist. Bucky held you close and he pressed his lips on the top of your head. His metal hand grasped at your shirt, the desperation to keep you in his arms evident in his actions. “I know you’re worrying. Don’t.” You whispered, looking up at Bucky, your chin resting on his torso.
His hand caressed your cheek and you smiled, causing one of his own to form on his lips.
It had been a week since the flower situation. Bucky didn’t dwell on it, but he was still alert when the postman would stop by. Bucky had been gone all morning, meeting up with Steve for the day. You were lounging around at home, working on a painting for your local art class, before you heard the doorbell ring.
You smiled and set down your paintbrush, wiping the paint on your hands onto your smock. You ran to the door and half expected to see Bucky, but knew he wouldn’t be home for a few more hours, and you were met with the postman.
“Hi Charlie!” You said with a smile, taking your letters from his outstretched hand. Charlie then pulled out a box, handing it to you. “What’s this?” You asked, inspecting the small box. “Not sure, sweetie. Sign here.” He said with a smile, offering you his pen and his clipboard. You quickly signed for the box and waved to Charlie before going back inside.
The box felt light and didn’t have any information on it except for your address. Placing the letters in the small mail slot near your door, you examined the box, lifting it to your ear as you gently shook it.
You couldn’t hear anything so you went to the kitchen to carefully open it with a knife. Light blue gift paper stuck out as you lifted the flaps open and you creased your eyebrows. This paper looks familiar.
You pulled it out and gasped, seeing a Tiffany & Co. business card on top of a light blue box with white satin ribbon tied around it, a bow sitting on the lid. You grasped the box and opened it, seeing a bracelet catching the sunlight through the windows, shining brightly in a ray of rainbow colors.
“Who are you?” You whispered. First the roses and now an expensive piece of jewelry? You had no clue who would be sending you things like this. You were sure Bucky was going to freak out after seeing this. Gently placing the bracelet back inside of the box, you left it there so you could finish painting.
A few hours passed, and you had finished your project. The door suddenly opened, heavy boots being taken off made you smile.
Bucky stepped into view and you squealed, running up to him. You always felt so happy when he got home. “Bucky!” You giggled, running straight into his arms. Bucky chuckled and caught you, twirling you around before capturing your lips with his.
You smiled into the kiss as Bucky held you closer. He smelled like shampoo and aftershave from his shower this morning, with a hint of vanilla. Bucky set you down and held your cheeks in his hands, smiling down at you.
“You’ve got paint in your hair.” Bucky said with a laugh, his fingers trying to clean it off. You flapped his hands away and giggled. You suddenly remembered the little box you got earlier and you gasped. “Oh yeah! A box came today.” You said, walking away from Bucky. His demeanor changed immediately, jealousy and anger settling into his chest.
“What is it? Who is it from? Did they leave a note?” He bombarded you with questions as he ganged up on your heels into the kitchen. You grabbed the box and opened it, getting the bracelet out again.
You held it out for Bucky to see and he looked at it, his eyebrows creasing. “Okay, this it getting out of hand already. I’m gonna find this punk and give him a piece of my mind.” Bucky growled, taking the bracelet from you. “This is the last fucking straw!“ He yelled, his loud voice echoing through the hallway before he turned into the living room.
You sighed and looked up at him. “Bucky, it could be harmless.” You explained, trying to catch up to Bucky as he turned away from you, his shoulders visibly tensing. He scoffed and shook his head. “Harmless? Another man is sending you gifts, Y/N!” Bucky exclaimed, turning to you and you got into the room.
Another sigh fell from your lips and you walked over to Bucky, pulling him into your arms. He stood still, his hand gripping tightly onto the bracelet. “I will figure out who this is, and I can’t promise I’ll be nice about it.” Bucky grumbled, his arms moving to wrap around your shoulders.
It’s been two weeks now and you’ve received another bouquet of roses and another piece of expensive jewelry, without a note of who it could be from. Bucky made many attempts at tracking the person down, but you hoped they would stop before he could hurt someone.
Suddenly, you heard the postman at the door. You rushed to the door, beating Bucky to it so he wouldn’t take any of this out on someone innocent. Luckily he was still in the kitchen. You opened the door and smiled at the postman, asking him how his morning has been so far.
“Rather lovely! Here’s your mail!” Charlie said with a chipper voice, his hand holding a few letters out to you. You took them with a smile and said goodbye. Charlie returned your smile before heading back down the walkway, his bag slung over his shoulder.
You shifted through the letters as you walked back inside, kicking the door shut behind you. Most of the letters were simple bills, but a purple colored envelope with your name written in cursive on it caught your attention.
You were nervous to open it, you never really got any letters from anyone personally. You used to when you first became an Avenger, but now, it was rare. Maybe this was one of those times. You only hoped so, so Bucky wouldn’t freak out. But as you opened the envelope and pulled out the letter, your eyes raking down the message, your accusations were wrong.
Bucky walked in with an unreadable expression as he crossed over and behind you, looking down at the letter over your shoulder.
“Dear Y/N, I hope you’ve enjoyed the gifts! I was scared to face you, but I’d like to meet up with you! If it’s okay with you, you can meet me at-” Bucky ripped the letter from your hands as he read the address and he laughed. “Is this idiot serious right now!?” He shouted as he stared down at you. You gave him a small shrug.
Whoever wrote the letter wanted you to meet them at noon at some coffee shop. “Bucky, please, don’t do anything you’ll regret.” You pleaded, looking up at a rather angry man. Bucky’s jaw clenched and he slipped on his baseball cap.
“I don’t know who this is, you are not coming with me. It could be a trap and they could hurt you, they could-” Bucky rushed and you quickly stepped onto your toes and shut him up with a kiss. “I’m going with you. I’ll be okay.” You said with a small smile.
Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed heavily. He looked back at you and shook his head gently. “I swear, he’s dead.” Bucky grumbled, grabbing your hand and making his way to the destination.
You took your time looking around the city, the sun shining brightly and a few birds flying around every now and then. Other than all of this, it was a nice day out. As you walked towards the coffee shop, you saw a familiar face standing outside, the man looking down at his watch.
You gasped as you realized who it was. It was your art partner, Riley. Was he the one that was sending you all of those gifts? “No way.” You whispered, catching Bucky’s attention. “Is that him?” Bucky asked as he caught sight of the man and immediately bolted towards him. “Hey! Punk!” Bucky yelled out, his metal hand whirring as he tightened his fist.
Riley’s head snapped towards you and Bucky, his eyes widening just in time for Bucky to lunge at him. Bucky grabbed Riley by his shirt and lifted him off of the ground. “So you’re the guy that’s been sending my wife gifts and love letters!?” Bucky yelled at Riley, moving to shove him against the brick building.
You stood back as you watched, your heart racing fast. “Bucky!” You yelled after him, noticing a few people slowly walk by as they took in the scene. The last thing you wanted was for Bucky to end up on the news channel for lashing out on someone in the public eye, so you knew you had to do something.
Rushing over to Bucky, you grabbed his arm. He was breathing heavily as he dropped Riley to the ground. Riley was pretty shaken up and you couldn’t help but feel guilty. “Bucky, let me talk to him. He’s from my art class.“ You said softly, moving to help Riley up. Bucky scoffed and looked at you bewildered. “Are you serious, Y/N!?” Bucky yelled out.
Riley stood back up and looked between you and Bucky. “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. I didn’t mean any harm. She never mentioned a boyfriend.” Riley explained nervously. You let out a sigh. “I told you about Bucky, remember? He’s my husband.” You said, moving towards Bucky again. He pulled you into his side protectively.
Riley’s eyebrows creased. “I’ve never seen a ring.” He commented. You lifted up your left hand, the diamond shining in the sunlight. A soft ‘oh’ fell from his lips. Bucky pushed you behind him as he walked forward. Riley took a cautious step backward. “Listen, man, it’s only a misunderstanding.” He squeaked, holding his hands up.
Bucky snarled at him and turned back to you, quickly pulling you away without another word. You didn’t dare look back at Riley, no matter how bad you felt. He was really nice and welcomed you into the art class with a warm gesture. But you never thought he’d be your secret admirer.
You never wore your ring to art class after the first day, you almost had it snagged off by your smock. Bucky was silent most of the way home and you weren’t sure what to say. He left your side as soon as you stepped into the door, and went straight to the bedroom.
You followed after him, watching him closely. Bucky didn’t look angry anymore. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes held a sadness you’ve never seen before.
“Are you okay?” You asked quietly as you moved to stand in front of Bucky. His head was hanging low and he shook it, his hair framing his face under his cap. You lifted his chin up with your finger and looked into his eyes. “Talk to me, baby.” You whispered, noticing his blue eyes had grown a light shade of grey.
Bucky sighed and moved his hands to your waist, his thumbs digging into your skin. “It’s just-the thought of someone else feeling how I feel about you-it scares me.” Bucky mumbled, leaning into your hand on his cheek. You smiled gently and took off his cap, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Hey, come on, I’m yours. I’m not going anywhere.” You said, pressing more kisses to his face.
After a few more, Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle. He pulled you onto him and fell onto his back on the mattress as you straddled him. You looked down at Bucky, letting your noses graze one another’s in an eskimo kiss. “You know I love you, James.” You said, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. “Even when you’re jealous.” You added with a sly smirk.
Bucky pulled you closer, his metal hand keeping you in place. “I love you, too. Wait- no, I am not jealous.” He deadpanned, a hint of truth behind his words. You giggled and kissed his lips. You pulled away too soon for his liking and he groaned, rubbing his hands along your lower back. “You are.” You said, kissing his lips again.
“Am not.” Kiss. “Are too.” Kiss. “Am not.” Kiss. “Fuck, can you blame me?” Bucky asked as he rolled on top of you, moving his hands underneath your shirt. You smiled and let out a breathy giggle. “Just kiss me.” You whispered, pulling him down by his collar. “Gladly.” He mumbled against your lips.
Hey folks! I very rarely stray from anything daily cat related but I am going to make an exception for one of my friends. Her bearded dragon Draco had to make a vet visit recently (the lil’ buddy is on the mend!), and she’s trying to promote Etsy sales to cover the cost of the trip.
Some of you may be familiar with her work, for the last two years we’ve been working Rose City Comic Con together. She does some phenomenal colored pencil work! Please if you have a moment go take a look at her shop, I’m sure she’d appreciate the patronage.
I'm a sucker for tattoo shop AUs (Deep in the Heart of Me is my favorite fic EVER), and I can imagine Tony being the manager of a famous shop, and accepting stray artists that want to find a job and are poor/homeless/lost (among which Bucky, Clint and Nat), and just giving them a goal, a home and a future and ARG
Thank you for reminding me of the beauty that is tattoo AUs!!!! I can’t believe I forgot about this to be honest, I used to adore them in almost every fandom, but I haven’t thought of them in ages until I got your ask! I’m unfamiliar with the fic you’ve mentioned–I don’t read a lot of Stony–but I think I’ll give it a try! But for now, let’s get back to this AU.
I really like the idea of Tony being this crazy, loveable owner of a tattoo shop who hires very questionable people under ridiculous circumstances because he’s insane like that. I also headcanon that said questionable people are very protective of their smol boss because of it.
“What the fuck do you want from me?” the stranger snarls disturbingly animalistic.
“Uhm.” Tony stares at the knife—a real knife and definitely not one for the kitchen—and scruffles a tiny step backwards. Backs against a wall before he has the chance to bring a little more distance between himself and Stranger With Knife.
Damn those walls and the stupid people that build them.
He’s going to die here, alone, in an abandoned backstreet. Where nobody will find his body until they’ll have to hold the funeral with a closed coffin. If they’ll ever find his body.
There’s probably a life lesson in here, about how you’re not supposed to follow unknown men a head taller than you and double your weight in muscles into an abandoned backstreet for one. But Tony’s attention is too fixated on the knife to care much about unimportant details like that.
For once, he hysterically thinks, Rhodey won’t be able to scold me for my messed up priorities.
“I won’t ask again!” the man hisses dangerously. He’s got shaggy hair that could do with a cut and a wash, and his eyes flicker with the same restlessness that drew Tony to him initially.
And fine, he probably shouldn’t have followed the guy. He can see how this could be considered “creepy” by people less fluent in Tony-speak than Pepper or Rhodey. Natasha will undoubtedly slap him—gently, because she’s secretly a poisonous snake who’s adopted Tony as this weird, bumbling kitten that will not get killed by anyone but her—for this later. You know, if there is a later.
“I was wondering if you want to work for me,” Tony blurts out because he can’t think of anything else to say. Also because it’s true.
“I’m not fuckin’ work for hire!” the man growls. “I don’t do that shit anymore, so either back the fuck off or I’ll make sure you won’t need anything anymore!”
Alright. Tony decidedly isn’t going to ask what the guy’s going on about. Nope. Absolutely not. That would just be too stupid, even for him.
“What are you talking about?” he asks and promptly wants to knock himself out. At least that might improve his chances to not talk himself into an early death. Clint will not be impressed if he misses is 8 o’clock appointment tomorrow and he has to cover for Tony—neither will the customer. Clint isn’t useful for anything before eleven in the morning.
The man’s eyes—they’re a cold blue that would look a lot prettier if they weren’t levelling a glacial glare at Tony right now—narrow even further, the knife itching ever so slightly closer towards Tony, and nope, not a fan of that development at all.
“Look,” Tony decides to try and deescalate the situation, “You don’t have to answer that. Actually, please don’t answer that, because this sounds too much like one of those I’d tell you but then I’d have to kill you thingies and Natty would not be pleased if you did. You know, kill me. Unless you tell her I called her Natty again. For some reason she really doesn’t like that? But what do I know, women are weird,” he muses with a shrug.
“Right, I was trying to make a point. See, you could just wave your knife around and possibly- probably kill me, which would really suck. Cause I’m not a big fan of being dead before my liver gives out on me and you don’t look like you’ve got another jacket, and blood is a bitch to get out.” Not that it would be much of a loss, with the oversized, worn down thing the man’s wearing. It looks like it’s being held together by stubbornness and nothing else.
He might have said that last part out loud as well, if the guy’s twitch is anything to go by. Tony can’t decide whether that’s a good thing or not.
“Or,” he hastily continues, “you could listen to my gracious proposal, accept it with genuine appreciation and enthusiasm and in two years we’ll both laugh about this moment.” He finishes with a bright smile and a happy clap. Screw Natasha and Pepper, he can be reasonable and mature. He’s not the one waving a butcher knife around after all.
Said knife is slowly lowered by the stranger who tilts his head to one side in a show curiosity. He seems—amused, almost. Or maybe that’s Tony’s screwed perception of reality talking. Clint’s mentioned he has a problem at one point, something about seeing a ravaging monster and cooing over it and wanting to pet it. Which is nonsense, Tony doesn’t want to pet anything. Except maybe the guy’s hair, once it’s been properly cleaned. And that’s not his fault, it looks like it could be fluffy.
“I’m listening,” he drawls, almost like he’s humouring Tony. The joke’s on him though, because Tony is used to being humoured.
“Do you know Stark Tower? What a stupid question, of course you do, but just in case you don’t, it’s the best tattoo studio in the entire country, trust me on that, and it happens to also belong to me. You’d look great with a couple of tattoos by the way, really help round off that assassin-gone-rough vibe you’ve got there, and I’d totally do them for free or maybe not free. Pepper says I’m not supposed to give people things all the time, but you wouldn’t tell on me, right?”
“Anyways, I saw this,” Tony lifts the crumbled paper he’s rescued from the garbage at the café he’s first noticed Mr Tall, Dark and Knifey—and hadn’t that led to a fun conversation with the waitress—and waves it around as if to stress his point, “and you’ve got some real talent with the abstract design there, because this is amazing and I’d want it as a tattoo, wich says something, my taste is fantastic. Also I’m missing a designer because that asshole Wade keeps running off to do one thing or another and I’m not allowed to hire Peter until he’s legal.”
The guy stares at him in bemusement while Tony tries to catch his breath. Admittedly not an uncommon reaction.
“You’re offering me a job?” he asks after a moment in disbelief—and damn, this guy is catching on to Tony-speak real quick, he’s the right choice all right.
“Yup,” Tony nods. He’s thought he’s been fairly obvious.
“You’ve been following me for two subway stations, three bus stops and a couple of dozen street corners to offer me a job because you saw something I’d scribbled down at a café,” the man repeats incredulous.
Tony shrugs. “I didn’t know how to talk to you. Clint says I come on too strong usually.”
“And you thought stalking me would make me feel more at ease?”
“Well, no.” Tony frowns. “Maybe? I wasn’t—but doesn’t prolonged exposure get you used to someone?”
“Prolonged- never mind,” the guy shakes his head. “You’re crazy.”
A pause, then, “I don’t need a job.”
Tony scoffs. “Have you looked at yourself lately?” he asks, mulls over his words for a moment when the man tenses. “Alright, that might have come across as offensive but seriously. I don’t care if you need a job or not, it’s yours if you want it. Just show up sometime next week and tell Natty I hired you and if Clint is there please throw your knife at him, he’s an ass and screams like a banshee.” Tony searches his pockets for a moment before he finds one of his, admittedly worse for wear, business cards and offers it to Mr Death By Blade.
“You’re crazy,” the man states again, but he takes the card.
“Get used to it,” Tony smiles is sunniest smile because take that Clint, he can hire new staff without getting anyone killed.
“Have you ever even held a tattoo gun in your life? It’s not a real gun, for fuck’s sake! Tony!” Clint is heard screaming in exasperation through the studio a couple of days later. “What the fuck where you thinking when you hired Bucky?!”
Tony doesn’t look up from where he’s carefully drawing the worlds’ prettiest butterfly onto a young woman’s shoulder when he yells back, “Who the hell is Bucky?!”
[Bonus: “You’re taking all this surprisingly well,” Bucky comments at one point.
Clint shrugs. Takes a look at one of the designs over the newbie’s shoulder.
“Tony’s as fucked in the head as they come, but he’s a freaking genius at finding the best. If he’s hired you than that’s what you are. He wouldn’t settle for anything less.”
A moment of thoughtful silence follows, before.
“In three weeks, I’m gonna tell you how he hired Tasha.”
“Why in three weeks?”
“Studio rule. If you’ve made it three weeks without killing anyone, you’re part of the team.”
or: how each member of the original gryffindor quidditch team fell in love.
Alicia falls headfirst over lunch on a Friday, when she spills her water and all Katie does is laugh and throw napkins over to her side of the table. She falls in love in between letters hastily jotted down between breaks and late nights in her dinky flat near St. Mungos, late nights spent wondering whether to voice how butterflies get caught in her throat every time Katie laughs. How her best friend has blossomed into something fierce, something untouchably bright.
Katie breaks the silence first, one night - says, in a hushed voice, too quiet to be anything but careful, that she thinks she might be in love and Alicia’s heart plummets but Katie’s voice breaks and continues with “I think I’m in love with you” and the rest, as they say, is history.
Katie’s felt it - felt it - the moment Alicia yelled at Malfoy all those years ago on the quidditch pitch. It just took her a couple years to realize.
George forgets about love after the war, too focused on making sure the joke shop does its duty, bringing the slightest sliver of relief to parents and children again. It’s not until years later, when Angelina resurfaces on his radar past the monthly exchanged word here and there, when she comes back from training camp abroad, that love gives him a nudge, a gesture, as if to indicate “There. There I am.”
Angelina loves many people, as bold, beautiful, young women are free to do, and she loves strong and falls hard and falls fast. She’d thought it was her greatest detriment, once upon a time, but there was something almost silly about George at her doorstep, stubbing his foot on the welcome mat, shy in a way she’d never seen before. She told herself this time - this time would be the most dangerous, but three months later, she realizes there’s nothing terrifying about being held by familiar arms.
The twins are the twins, but they aren’t the same. So Fred’s always had love at the tip of his fingers, because Lee’s been at his side since they were fresh-eyed and curious, on the wrong side of too eager. It’s always been there, a quiet undercurrent, the only thing delicate and untouched between them. One day, one of them takes the leap and asks, prods at the tension in the room. When it unravels, their grins bloom tenfold, like fireworks. It lasts for a lifetime.
Oliver says he fell in love fighting on the quidditch pitch (because where else) with an equally passionate quidditch player (because who else) - and that’s how it worked, except there’s always more to a story than that. He brings Marcus home one evening, and his mother smiles and says she had expected nothing else. In reality, Oliver fell in love between dawn and morning practice, yearning hitting him hard in the gut. He’d crawled back into a surprised Marcus’ bed, disregarding his routine morning run in favor of curling into an easy embrace.
Harry finds love lurking somewhere after war reparations and before peace, an odd tentative balance in chaos. He wasn’t looking for it, just as he very rarely asks for anything at all, but it sauntered up, arrogant and brash, unable for him to look away from. Love did that - not Draco, because Draco had his own reparations to make and his own makings of peace and he’d discarded the arrogance for that. Love was a mess and a half, except then it wasn’t, and it made sense, in an odd, funny, sort of way - how inexplicably tied in each other’s narrative the other had been at the end of all things. It made sense in the way that Harry and Draco didn’t, not to anyone looking in. But Harry knows better. He knows what love is, he knows when he has it, and he knows when it’s returned, with a genuine gaze and a steady hand.
Keyleth opens the shop on Sunday a little early, hoping to entice the people on their way to church with tulips and crocuses, new spring flowers. As she begins setting up the tables outside, she hears the shuffle of small feet, and glances through the open door to see Pike in an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of old sweatpants cupping two mugs. Her face still creased from sleep and her hair swept up into a probably slept in bun. Small hairs frame her smile as she hands Keyleth a mug covered in a floral design. She hops on to the half filled table and pats the spot next to her. She gladly sits on the worn wood and takes a sip of coffee, brewed perfectly, wondering how she deserves such a wonderful person.
“I hope I didn’t wake you”, she says, taking another sip, “I just thought today would be better with an earlier start, and I kinda forgot how loud these tables are after a winter of sitting in the back, and I maybe dropped a pot of tulips on the way out and-”
She’s cut off as Pike gently leans into her side and sighs. Worried Keyleth looks into her face, only to find a sleepy smile and pair of laughing eyes looking back.
“Oh, you definitely woke me. But here now, don’t pull that face, I’d much rather spend my morning watching the sun rise with you than sleep in till noon in a very comfortable bed”. She chuckles as Keyleth looks somewhat guilty for her actions, her face turning to concern for the woman leaning into her.
“Really, it’s okay, I have today off, and it’s better if I actually get up and do something.” She says, sitting up and stretching, only to lean back into Keyleth and return to watching the color rising in the distance.
Keyleth gives a half hearted “If you’re sure” and takes another sip of coffee. They sit in silence for a bit, as the first tendrils of sunlight grace the horizon, eventually leading to a brilliant orange and yellow. She muses on how the sun continues to exist day in and day out, it’s tireless illumination of those that surround it. How it literally and figuratively brightens her day when it sleepily climbs into the sky. How it gives and gives, and expects nothing in return. It’s warmth and it’s radiance and it’s beauty, especially in the wee hours of the morning, and suddenly she’s not quite sure if she’s still thinking of the sun when a slight snore interrupts her thoughts. The weight of Pike now fully on her shoulder, Keyleth smiles and takes in the slight droop of her mouth and coffee mug over half full slipping out of her grasp.
“Oh honey”, she murmurs, gently taking the cup from her hands and placing it next to her. She slides off the table careful to keep Pike upright and manages to lift the other woman into her arms. As she does so, Pike wraps herself around Keyleth, still sound asleep and sighs contentedly. Keyleth takes her back inside, taking the stairs slowly, as to not disturb her exhausted friend.
She makes it to Pike’s bed with only one small misstep, which she was sure was going to send both of them crashing to the ground. Keyleth lays her on the soft blue sheets, and tucks the other blankets around her, finishing her work with a gentle kiss to the forehead which elicits the faintest of smiles from the sleeping woman’s mouth. She gently closes the door and heads downstairs to finish preparing the bouquets to be picked up today.
As the sun finally emerges from the distant mountains, it’s rays manage to find the two forgotten mugs sitting on the table half filled with flowers. The empty one matches the reds and pinks that reside behind them, while the almost full one mirrors the warming rays of the sun that shines on them. A cutesy design of a still rising sun, with the very fine lines of four words arching over it’s rays.
the prompt: Since I’m already up in your requests, may I request a Jaehyun scenario. Maybe about him meeting you for the first time at a coffee shop then it winds up being yall’s meeting place.
category: fluff + drabble (?)
author note: since its jaehyuns birthday and also Valentine’s Day I thought I would write this first! it’s really simple but also kinda cheesy and idk how I feel about it haha. please enjoy it anyway and look forward to more requests being written soon!!