Wildflower

[yvainelaurent]

She smells faintly of espresso grounds, rainwater caught in wool coats, and old perfume lingering on silk scarves draped over the backs of café chairs. She is carousel lights flickering at midnight, chipped gold jewelry tangled beside handwritten postcards, daffodils springing up in handmade flowerpots outside apartment windows, and lipstick stains on coffee cups long gone cold. There’s something cinematic about the way she exists; like the last scene of a foreign film where no one really knows if the heroine is healing or simply running again. Train stations at impossible hours, laughter echoing through rainy empty streets, messy bangs trimmed with kitchen scissors, pressed flowers hidden between book pages, jazz humming softly from another room, and the feeling of being loved briefly but intensely. She carries herself like someone born beneath carnival lights: beautiful, untouchable, a little tragic; the kind of girl people write songs about without ever truly understanding.

BIO || MUSINGS || VISUALS || EDITS || STATS || CONNECTIONS

[thewillmcdonald]

Whatever author or force that controlled and wrote for the universe must have been having a field day. It was a perfect set of circumstance dominoes falling into each other, a neat line of them knocking each one over as things progressed. As if the stars aligned to have them meet, connect, and continue their conversation within the sacred walls of a cafe.

Cafes were much like book stores in that way - they were pillars of connections, keepers of secrets, and allowed the inhabitants inside to relax a bit more and bare their souls in a way you wouldn't in a grocery store or at the DMV. It was intimate by nature, knees touching as you shared a drink and spoke softly so the tables in their close proximity didn't overhear you. You could be vulnerable, an unspoken charm of these coffee houses that supported first dates or re-connections. In your own bubble, you could let the world fall around you and you would have no idea, like time stood still within the aroma of a fresh pot. Without even knowing it, hours would pass and the world would be none the wiser.

"Only good impressions." He clarified, further explaining that, "I think running into you anywhere would be a welcome surprise." He hummed, the words slipping effortlessly through his parted lips. Was he flirting with her? It happened almost instinctively, he wasn't trying to be anything other than himself but she seemed to bring out a different shade to his usually reserved demeanour. It was a welcomed change, though, and he was sure his mom would be thrilled at him for 'putting himself out there'.

As she explained that she did, in fact, work here, he nodded, scanning around. It was the sort of place with natural charm, unlike the manufactured coffee shops in New York that were all industrial steel and cold lines. Things there were more transactional than in Merrock, and that was certainly reflected in most of the architecture. You could find a few quaint spots and lots of holes in the wall in New York City, but a small town coffee shop with a similar feel were few and far between. "Well, I'm glad you don't have any espresso machines to hide behind, I enjoy looking at you." Immediately his face flushed, the colours of his ivory skin peeling into a bright red. "I mean, not in a weird way. Just that, you don't need to hide." He cleared his throat, staring ahead and hoping the moment would pass without her thinking he was a total weirdo for his admission.

Finally, he let himself look at her again, his face slowly returning to its original hue. He offered her a bit of a sideways grin, "If I don't seem emotionally catastrophic, then my years of therapy must be paying off." He teased, though he was rather emotionally in tune and regulated. But he wasn't without his flaws and certainly wasn't without his reservations, especially when they came to the opposite gender. In fact, in the last year since his break up, he had hardly allowed himself to be open to the idea of talking to another woman, much less flirting with her. "But I definitely do say I'm fine and then run off somewhere to write, but not the woods, I'm not much of an outdoorsy guy- that's something I'm actively trying to change, though. Moving here, I'm trying to be... outside more. There's so much open space in town that there wasn't back home, less smog to breathe in. Hell, I might even go swimming in a river one of these days so I'll have to update you on my secret writing spots if you're lucky."

When they approached the counter, before ordering, at her mention of him noticing things, he turned to her and smiled sincerely, the butterflies in his stomach resuming their whirl. She saw him and he hadn't felt that way in a long time. "Thank you."

"I do really want to. But that sounds good, fair's fair." He made a mental note of her order and nodded as she went off to grab a table, his eyes lingering on her as she settled at a corner table before he finally turned back to order for himself. 'Next time', a promise he certainly wouldn't let her forget given how well their first meeting was going.

Once he had both of their drinks a few moments later, he grabbed them and walked briskly over to join her, setting hers down on the table before he slid across from her in a chair of his own. "Small lavender latte with oat milk and extra form for you, and a large iced black coffee for me. I think there's poetry to be written about these orders somewhere." He mused with a chuckle, settling against the wooden back of the chair as the world fell to the periphery. "So, tell me about yourself; why did you move here, what was your childhood pet's name, what street did you grow up on, what are the three digits on the back of your credit card?" He teased, resting his head on a closed fist as he laid his elbow against the table.

[yvainelaurent]

The smile arrived before the young Laurent woman could stop it. Not because of the compliment. Not entirely, anyway. It was the way he said it. Completely casual and honest; Like it had simply occurred to him and he'd seen no reason not to say it. Which somehow made it worse? Or better? She hadn't fully decided at this point if this was necessarily a good thing, or if it was some whirlwind she'd later hope she never got caught up in, in the first place. Though, the way he set off her dopamine spoke in volumes. Enough so to have her doubts hide away for the time being.

For a second, her gaze dropped to her feet, the corner of her mouth curling upward despite her best efforts. By the time she looked back at him, there was unmistakable warmth in her expression, even as he looked forward and didn't meet her gaze. “Well,” She began carefully, not wanting to make the situation worse for him. In reality, she thought it was sweet; His blush just the cherry on top of it all. Okay, so maybe she wanted to make it a little worse. “That's probably one of the nicer recoveries I've ever witnessed. Not perfect - but definitely impressive.” The teasing took some of the sting out of the fact that her pulse had absolutely betrayed her right then.

His comment about therapy earned a soft laugh. “See, that answer alone makes me trust you more.” She tilted her head, her golden hair cascading over her shoulder. “Anyone who claims they've got everything figured out is usually the person I trust the least.” Her gaze drifted briefly toward the light from the nearby window before returning to him, her heart needing to steady itself from the blow his eyes set off alone. Then, her words came slightly quieter, “Besides, everyone has something.”

“Though for the record, disappearing to write somewhere dramatic absolutely counts.” Her blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully, a tinge of playfulness hidden just beneath the surface. “I don't care if it's a river, a dock, a park bench, or a suspiciously picturesque rock.” She pointed at him just then. “If you're writing while staring into the distance, you've earned at least partial emotionally-catastrophic status.” The accusation lingered playfully between them. Then came his thank you. It was simple, but oozed genuine intention. The kind that was soft, yet still managed to catch her off guard. Somehow, so much so that any compliment she'd ever gotten couldn't compare. Yvaine's expression softened immediately as a response. “You don't have to thank me for that.” Her hand went to the pendant of her necklace, her fingers idly playing with it - moving it side to side as if with purpose. “I just said what I noticed.”

That was perhaps the most prominent thing about Will that the blonde caught onto: He was easy for her to notice. And it was not because he demanded attention; It was because he listened. He looked at people when they spoke, and he seemed to genuinely care about the answers. Those things had become rarer than they should have been.

By the time he sat down across from her with both drinks, she found herself smiling again. The sight of the black coffee nearly made her laugh. “There it is.” She gestured dramatically toward the cup. “The evidence.” His declaration about poetry only strengthened her case. Her eyes glittered with amusement right then. “Mine says I like flowers.” She pointed toward his cup. “Yours says you've read poetry in the rain at least once.” Her smile twitched as she took a sip of her latte, “And it was possibly on purpose.”

She gave him a playful grin over the rim of her cup, the lavender comforting her tastebuds. Then came the questions. All of them, all at once. Yvaine stifled a laugh, “Ah. Good.” She set her cup down carefully. “We're skipping directly to identity theft.” Her shoulders shook with quiet amusement as she settled more comfortably into her chair. “Well, I didn't necessarily have pets, growing up.” She took a moment to ponder on if she should really disclose her past or not in that moment. But, looking at him, she felt a familiarity she hadn't with anyone prior. A singular thought that if anyone were to understand and not judge, it'd be him. Her hands cradled the mug, the warmth of it more like a reassuring hug than anything else. "Not normal pets, at least. Before the animal welfare acts were put into place for traveling animals, I worked with a couple tigers." She shrugged a shoulder like it was nothing. Cause to her, it was nothing short of normal. "And I grew up in a traveling circus, actually. I don't think I've ever spent much time anywhere longer than two weeks?" She racked her brain for a moment, her eyes looking down and then back up at him before affirming, "Yeah, two weeks was the max."

Then she narrowed her eyes, jocularly, “The credit card information remains classified.” A thoughtful hum escaped her then, already in thought, “As for me moving here…” Her gaze drifted briefly toward the café around them. From the familiar walls to the sounds, then to the steady comfort of it. Something in her face softened. “I think I wanted somewhere smaller.” Her voice lowered slightly, digesting and processing her own thought process. “Somewhere people still knew each other. Somewhere conversations lasted longer than a few minutes.” Her smile returned. “Somewhere with excellent coffee and surprisingly persistent bookstore strangers.” The look she gave him was openly fond now.

“My turn.” She pointed toward him with complete certainty, a sing-song tone in her voice. “Why Merrock?” Her head tilted with her signature curiosity. “Because you don't strike me as someone who packed up his whole life on a whim.” The smile returned slowly, surely. “Though your coffee order is making a compelling argument otherwise.”

[theobrowningfd]

Who: @yvainelaurent and Theo

Where: Cobblestone Cafe

When: May 2026

Though he wasn't an avid coffee drinker, Theo had found himself over the course of the last year frequenting Cobblestone Cafe. Growing up he hadn't had the type of father people should have. So when he became one, he vowed to himself to be that kind of man to his own kids and as a firefighter that decision eventually evolved and included others. A friendship started at the café formed into Theo becoming said father figure type to Yvaine.

"Hey," he replied as he sat down across from her at their usual spot, "hope today hasnf been too overwhelming here." He nodded towards the counter, a small line of patrons forming waiting to order. "Thankfully no crazy calls yesterday on shift and no milestones missed from my twins."

[yvainelaurent]

The blonde's face brightened the way it always did, the moment she spotted him making his way toward their usual table. There was something comforting about Theo's presence; steady in a way very few things in her life had ever been. The kind of person who showed up when he said he would, remembered the little things, and somehow made the world feel less chaotic simply by existing in it.

"Hey, yourself." A smile tugged at her lips as she wrapped both hands around her coffee mug, waiting until he'd settled into the seat across from her. Her gaze flicked toward the line forming at the counter before returning to him. "It's been busy, but not crying-in-the-walk-in-cooler busy." Though, was that a fact based solely on the fact she was on her break? Possibly. "So, by Cobblestone standards, we're thriving."

The blonde leant back slightly in her chair. "Ask me again after the afternoon rush, though. My answer may become significantly more dramatic." She listened as he spoke about his shift, and some of the tension she'd been carrying all morning seemed to ease automatically. "No crazy calls?" The relief in her voice was thoughtful, authentic. "Good. I'm glad to hear it" Because she'd learned enough about firefighting through Theo to know that quiet shifts were gifts, not guarantees.

"And no milestones missed?" Her smile softened immediately. "Look at you. Winning at work-life balance." She pointed toward him with the hand wrapped around her mug. "That's basically superhero behavior, by the way." She'd watched him juggle fatherhood, impossible hours, and an endless desire to help everyone around him with a kind of grace that often felt unfair. The man made it look easier than it surely was.

Her expression turned curious then. "Okay, so tell me everything." She rested her chin lightly against her palm. "What are the twins up to this week?" Her grin a chaser to her words.

The warmth in her smile lingered as she looked at him. "How're you doing, though? Not firefighter Theo. Not dad Theo. Just Theo."

[rafaelcb]

"Oh, you're very welcome!" he chimed in, perhaps a little too bubbly, when she said that he was going to haunt her, "I hope that you have many happy nightmares." Although Rafael was pretty sure that there were worse things to have bad dreams about. And if she wanted to threaten him… he could show her even more what bad dreams were made of, raising both of his brows as she talked about not being comfortable with debating her if that were the case. "Do you think you scare me?" he asked, gesturing to himself with a low laugh, "I'm a lawyer. I could take you on."

That might have been a touch of ego speaking; but he had earned it. Rafael was, if nothing else, remarkably good at what he did for a living.

"I don't know about that," he replied with a huff of a laugh and a shrug of his shoulders, "maybe I've just grown a little weary of being called stuffy all the time." That part was mostly a joke, but… at the same time, he had gotten used to it, came to expect it as soon as he talked about his black coffee or his every day hobbies that most people found to be right on par for a fifty something year old man. He was alright with that.

"Or maybe I just tell you that to let you think that you've got one up on me," after all, his blood could be just as much wine, at that point, but he wasn't sure that kind of knowledge was going to help his case very much. He was half Italian, wasn't it a given that he would be made up of red wine? But it did give him an in to learn something about her. "What's your order when you come into a place like this, then?"

[yvainelaurent]

Yvaine's brows lifted immediately; amusement written along her features, down to the glint in her eyes. It make the blues of her irises lighter, somehow. The expression alone communicated exactly how little she believed him. It was without hesitation when the blonde stated,"I could take you on." Then, a laugh escaped her before she could stop it, quiet but it was still genuine.

"Oh, that's adorable." The blonde rested her forearms against the counter, tilting her head as she regarded him with glittering amusement. "You think being a lawyer prepares you for me?" She asked. "That's actually very sweet." The thought slipped passed her lips and that was that - she couldn't take it back. Though, it did make her smile widen ever so slightly.

"I debate with customers who think oat milk is a political statement." If he was going to talk about his credentials, then she most definitely was going to mention her own. "And I work morning shifts." There was an implication there that lingered within the air between them. Those two facts alone should have been terrifying enough. Still, there was no real bite behind it. Not today, anyway.

Yvaine found herself enjoying this entirely too much. The easy back-and-forth. The way he seemed willing to volley every tease right back at her instead of retreating from it. It was refreshing in the gentle way that friends feel.

The mention of being called stuffy softened something in her expression. "You don't strike me as stuffy." Thoughtful? Yes. Structured? Maybe overtly so. He came off as the kind of man who probably color-coded something recreationally. Though, it still didn't nail him as stuffy. "I think people just confuse consistency with boring." She shrugged one shoulder. "They're usually wrong."

Her blue eyes narrowed almost immediately. "Oh, no." The words came before he'd even finished; a part of her hoping she didn't mess up his thought process by doing so. It caused the corner of her mouth to twitch. "See, that was lawyer behavior." Yvie pointed at him with a playfully accusing finger before elaborating with a defining, "'Maybe I'm only telling you that so you'll think you've got one up on me.'" She shook her head. "That's exactly the kind of thing someone says when they've spent their entire life professionally manipulating conversations."

When he asked about her order, however, her expression shifted into something more thoughtful. For a moment she glanced toward the espresso machine. The familiar hiss of steam filled the space between them. "My order depends entirely on the day." She looked back at him, honesty dusting her features. "If it's before nine in the morning? I like a lavender latte with oat milk. I just feel as though it resets my system and gives me a qui\et confidence whilst also calming any jitters."

"If I've had a terrible week, something embarrassing." Just then, the corner of her mouth curved. "Caramel with whipped cream. The kind of drink that makes coffee purists want to fight me in a parking lot." Her tiny frame moved in as if a secret was to be disclosed in that very moment. "And if I'm feeling particularly reckless..." A dramatic pause unfolded before the words left her mouth, "...oreo."

Her smile turned more upward at the corners, "Go ahead, counselor." Yvaine gestured toward him dramatically. "I'll allow your closing argument."

[yvainelaurent]

Location: Spring Fling tents area Status: CLOSED ( @xandertaylor )

By late afternoon, Spring Fling had settled into organized chaos.

Every path was crowded, music floated in overlapping layers across the grounds, and vendor tents had developed their own little ecosystems of energy: some lively, some frantic, some one spilled lemonade away from collapse.

Yvaine had spent most of her shift at Cobblestone Café's tent moving in a practiced rhythm of espresso orders, pastries, and polite conversation.

And for the last forty minutes, she had been periodically looking across the festival grounds. Not obviously. Mostly.

Just enough to notice that Xander has been working nonstop. Which, in her opinion, was unacceptable.

So on her break, she disappeared.

And returned fifteen minutes later carrying a premade picnic from Taste. By the time she reached his booth, she paused a few feet away and watched for a second. Not dramatically, just quietly amused. Then she stepped into view. Without preamble, “I’m rescuing you.”

Yvaine held up the basket slightly. Her expression remained completely composed despite the fact that she had very obviously planned this.

“There are terms and conditions.” She glanced toward the stand. “You have to leave your post for at least twenty minutes. Twenty-five if you’re convincing.”

She stepped closer and lowered her voice conspiratorially, “Cobblestone sent reinforcements.” She opened the basket to reveal two iced coffees from her tent.

Yvaine looked back up at him and smiled in her signature warm and sunny way. The kind that felt a little too fond to pass as casual. “You looked like someone who forgot people are supposed to sit down sometimes.”

She adjusted the strap of her bag and added lightly, “And before you say you’re busy, I already checked.” There was a tiny pause before she continued, “The line looked manageable.”

Her expression softened just a little. “You’ve been here seemingly all day.” Then she nodded toward a quieter patch of grass nearby. “So.” Her blue eyes drifted back to him. “Come have lunch with me.”

[nadinesuh]

who: nadine & open (0/5)

where: spring fling (cityview park)

when: may, 2026

"I think you may be missing something there," Nadine leaned over so she could point to their creation, an empty spot in their otherwise gorgeous work, that she felt could use a little extra love, something to pull it together. A bit too caught up in her own design to realize it was supposed to be fun, and not perfect by any means. She cleared her throat, shaking her head as she tried to backtrack. Where were her social cues? "I mean, it's totally your call, I just like what you're doing with it so far."

[yvainelaurent]

Yvaine followed Nadine’s hand and looked at the arrangement again. The flowers had started out carefully placed; soft colors layered with intention, stems angled just enough to feel natural while still obviously considered. But now that Nadine had pointed it out, there was a gap.

Not obvious. Not wrong. Just… a place where the arrangement seemed to exhale a little too much.

The blonde looked at it for another second before glancing back at her. Then she smiled in a small yet gentle way. “Oh.” Her eyes returned to the flowers. “I think I see what you mean.”

She noticed the way Nadine pulled back immediately after, the quick retreat from certainty into apology. Yvaine’s expression softened. “No, don’t take it back.” She shook her head lightly. “You noticed something.”

“And if I’m being honest, I think I was starting to stare at individual flowers instead of the arrangement.” Her fingers brushed lightly over one of the stems she’d already placed. She looked thoughtful. “I do that sometimes.”

Her gaze drifted toward Nadine again. “I get attached to making every piece look right and forget to step back.” She looked where Nadine had pointed. Then turned slightly toward the buckets beside them and picked up a stem; not placing it yet, just holding it near the space. Testing. Considering.

She glanced at Nadine. “What were you thinking?” Her tone held genuine curiosity now. “More height? Something softer? Another color?” Her smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

“You leaned in with the confidence of someone who already had an answer.” She looked back at the arrangement. “And for the record…” Her eyes softened as they moved over the flowers. “I like that you cared enough to say something.”

A small breath of amusement escaped her. “Floral arranging feels deceptively low stakes until suddenly you’re emotionally invested in whether one singular ranunculus belongs three inches to the left.”

She held the rose up between them. “…Which is where I currently am, apparently.” Then she smiled again.

“So come help me fix the empty spot before I overthink it into a thesis.”

[thewillmcdonald]

The first chapter. The beginning of a book. The start of a story. Webster's Dictionary defines 'beginning' as 'the point in time or space where something starts, or the first and initial part of an event, story, or object'. The initial part of an event. Something about that wording felt correct, that this was more than a simple meeting of souls - more of a merging of the minds. An event.

In the beginning of a story, anything was possible. When characters and their quests are introduced, audiences have a chance to ease into a story. But that wasn't exactly what happened with Yvanie and himself; it was more like chance pushed them together in a bright burst.

Will had always believed in fate and he felt in his bones that this was one of those moments. He wasn't sure what exactly was happening, but whatever it was, he welcomed it. This caught him off guard, however, because his guard usually raised itself before he gave himself the chance to feel this way. She disarmed him without so much as a second glance, her smile warm and radiating off her features and he noticed the way her eyes seemed to light up throughout their conversation as she spoke about books.

He told himself to just let this happen, to not fret over things he couldn't control or worry about what might happen. He usually wouldn't let himself give into flirting with a stranger, as his heart was much more guarded nowadays but he simply couldn't help it. He felt safe as they conversed, like the words came as effortlessly from his tongue as they did as he read them off a page. What was so bad about a little flirting? If anything, maybe this could be the start of something new. And wasn't moving to Merrock all about new beginnings?

If this was a book, there would definitely be hints to the audience that now was the time to really pay attention. Perhaps even foreshadowing that this was something that would change both of them forever. It was a moment in time suspended beyond reality, when every choice they had made up to that point led them to exactly where they were, together.

--

Will carefully followed her to the cafe, opening the doors for her and walking on the outside of the sidewalk like a proper gentleman. His mother raised him to be polite, after all. The Cobblestone Cafe was a quaint spot in town, but he hadn't been yet. Usually Will was content with instant coffee or an energy drink from the gas station, but he had made a mental note when he first arrived to visit when he had a chance.

Few places lent themselves to reading a book like a coffee shop did but today he wasn't here for that, which unnerved him slightly. It was easy enough to carry on a conversation with someone politely in a store, but to sit down with them offered a new vulnerability - though with Yvaine, it felt like they had already passed the point of basic pleasantries and were diving quickly into something deeper and more meaningful.

As they got in line, he turned his attention to her once again. "Oh?" He inquired, cocking a brow in curiosity. "Why is that? Do you work here?" He asked. It was busy inside the cafe, the line they had joined wrapping up from the counter to the back wall of the establishment, but he didn't mind waiting if it meant more time to spend with her. "I used to think teachers lived at school," He laughed, adding, "But if I ran into you at a grocery store, I would definitely feel the opposite of emotional distress."

When their hands brushed again, it happened once more. Not quite a static shock, but rather a pulse or heartbeat that went through one of their bodies and through the other, joining their souls for a moment like they had met in the dark and had to find each other before being lost at sea. It was comfortable and exciting at the same time, which also meant it was vaguely terrifying. He quickly shook his head, though, feeling warmth spread across the digits of his hand. "Don't be."

Will nodded as they inched forward, his eyes scanning the menu quickly before he focused on her again. "I was, yes. I'm serious about a lot of things, my mother would argue that I can be too serious sometimes; especially when I was a little kid." He explained before chuckling, "Can it be a mixture of both? I mean, don't get me wrong, I definitely am a hopeless romantic, but there's definitely a bit of something else sprinkled in there, too. Whether that's trauma or a catastrophe or something potentially more exciting, well, I guess you'll have to be the judge." Returning her smirk, they found themselves at the counter finally. "What would you like?" He asked, taking out his wallet to pay for whatever they ordered.

[yvainelaurent]

Yvaine looked at him for a moment after he spoke. Not long enough to be deemed strange. Long enough that she forgot to glance back at the menu she already knew by heart.

There was something unfair about discovering that someone was thoughtful in small ways. Opening doors. Walking nearest the street. Saying things casually that lodged somewhere inconveniently noticeable.

Her expression softened before she could stop it. Then she looked away first. Just briefly. A quiet smile appeared as her heart fluttered in a way she couldn't suppress.

“Well now I’m curious what impression I’ve apparently given that grocery store sightings would be actively positive.” Her voice stayed light, but there was something warmer underneath it than before.

She folded her arms loosely and glanced toward the pastry case. "I do work here.”

Her mouth curved slightly. “So this is deeply embarrassing.” Not in a way that she was embarrassed with where she worked - it was quite the opposite. The blonde stood firmly on the ground that Cobblestone Cafe is one of the most magical places in Merrock.

She gestured vaguely around the café. “You’re seeing me outside my natural habitat.” Then, after a second, “And I can’t even hide behind the espresso machine.” Her eyes flicked back to him, humor written on her features which made her appear brighter, lighter, happier.

At the hand brush, his quiet don’t be, something in her expression shifted almost imperceptibly. Not surprise. Not exactly. Just the realization that she’d apologized automatically and he’d noticed. That he didn't mind the physical boundary being crossed so casually with her.

Her fingers loosened where she’d folded them. She looked down for a second. Then back up. “…Okay.” Soft. Simple. Like she was accepting something.

The line moved. She stepped forward beside him. At his answer about poetry, she smiled immediately. Not exactly teasing but dancing on the outskirts of it with softness.

Her eyes searched his face for a second longer than she probably meant to. “That’s compelling.” She laughed quietly to soften it. Then shook her head. “No, actually, that makes sense.”

Her expression turned thoughtful. “Important things do seem harder to say directly.” Her gaze drifted toward the chalkboard menu before returning. “I think people pretend they don’t because there’s less risk in sounding detached.”

She gave her words a moment to be processed, a warm smile still radiating on her lips. “But I don’t think emotionally catastrophic people announce themselves as emotionally catastrophic.”

Her head tilted. “They usually say things like I’m fine and then disappear into the woods to write metaphors.”

When he admitted to being a hopeless romantic, she blinked. Only once. But her eyes betrayed her for half a second. Like she’d accidentally been given information she intended to overthink later. Her smile became smaller, more careful. “…That tracks.” She said it before she could stop herself. Then her eyes widened slightly.

“I mean, not in a bad way.” A quiet laugh escaped her. “I just mean…” Her shoulders lifted faintly. “You seem like someone who notices things. Like-"

But they reached the counter.

She looked at his wallet appearing before her gaze went back up to look at him. “You don’t have to." She wasn't full-out refusing. Just gentle. “But if you really want to …I’ll allow it.”

“But I’m getting the next one.” Yvaine announced to him, before realizing she solidified she would do this again with him. In a heartbeat, actually.

Then she turned to the register and ordered with the ease of someone who knew exactly what she liked. “Small lavender latte. Oat milk. Extra foam. Please and thank you."

Then she looked sideways at him. “And whatever the resident poet is having.”

Her eyes lingered a second too long before she looked around for an empty table. "I'm gonna grab us a table." The petite woman stated, this time the touch of her grabbing his hand for a moment was intentional. Enough so that her cheeks blazed as she left his side and instinctively found a table by the window.

Sitting, she was buzzing. A part of her overtly charmed by him. Another, wanting to see if his coffee order supports her current working theory of him.

[vipcrhex]

ft. 𝒀𝑽𝑨𝑰𝑵𝑬 !

Nate had only come into Cherry Amour for coffee and five minutes of peace before another meeting his mother had insisted he attend. Instead, he found himself pausing a few feet behind Yvaine staring at the empty pastry tray like it had personally wronged her. Honestly, he got it. He glanced toward the display, then back at her, one brow lifting slightly. “Damn,” he said sympathetically, voice warm with amusement. “That’s the kind of disappointment that can ruin a person’s entire day.” He shifted the takeaway coffee in his hand before leaning slightly against the counter. “Judging by the look on your face, I’m guessing those weren’t just any danishes either.” He pauses before the corner of his mouth tugged upward. “For what it’s worth,” Nate added, lowering his voice, “you still look calmer than the guy I saw lose it over almond croissants in here last week. So I think you’re handling the tragedy pretty well.”

[yvainelaurent]

Yvaine looked over at the sound of his voice and immediately some of the offense she’d been directing at the empty pastry tray dissolved into recognition.

Her shoulders relaxed. Her expression shifted into something easier. Still mildly betrayed, but easier. She looked back at the display and then sighed quietly.

“Nate.” The single word carried all the weight of someone addressing a witness at the scene of a personal injustice. She pointed at the empty tray. “They’re gone.”

Not explanatory, just factual. As though he should understand the magnitude immediately. At his comment about her handling the tragedy well, she gave him a look. “That’s because I’m exercising restraint.”

“I’m processing internally.”

She rested her forearms lightly against the counter and shook her head. “You know the raspberry danishes?”

Her eyes moved back to him. “The ones I told you about.” She let a moment settle before continuing, “The ones I specifically said I was thinking about all morning.” Her hand lifted slightly. “This was supposed to be a reward.”

She looked back at the tray. “Which I now realize sounds dramatic…but I stand by it.”

At the mention of the almond croissant incident, she let out a quiet laugh. “See? That’s exactly what I mean.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “I always think people who get irrationally upset over pastry are being excessive until it happens to me.”

She finally turned fully toward him. Her eyes drifted to the coffee in his hand but then narrowed. “…Wait.” Her expression shifted immediately into suspicion. “You didn’t get the last one, did you?”

Not accusatory. Mostly.

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Because I’d like to think our friendship is stronger than that.” She tilted her head slightly. “And if you didn’t…” A softer smile appeared. “…then stand here with me for a moment while I mourn unrealized breakfast plans.”

[jj-hayes]

STATUS: CLOSED (@yvainelaurent)

LOCATION: JJ's home, Suburbs.

JJ entered his home through the back door after parking his car in the garage. His feet treaded lightly as he stepped towards the living room. The house was relatively quiet. The sun had set hours ago. He was certain that Mia must be fast asleep by now. At least, he had hoped that Yvaine had had no trouble putting her to bed. JJ rarely left Mia with a babysitter, especially on weeknights. Most of the time, he would leave her with his parents. But since they all had plans that evening, he decided to call Yvaine and ask her to watch Mia for a few hours. He knew that Mia actually liked being around her, so that had been helpful. JJ made his way over to the living room and smiled upon seeing his Yvaine. "Hey, Yvaine." He stepped further into the living room. "I hope Mia didn't give you too much trouble."

[yvainelaurent]

Yvaine looked up at the sound of the back door opening.

The living room had settled into that soft, late-evening stillness houses seemed to develop after bedtime; lamplight low, the television off, the quiet feeling intentional instead of empty.

She had been curled into one corner of the couch, legs tucked beneath her and a book resting open in her lap more than actively being read.

At the sight of him, her expression warmed immediately. “Hey.” Her voice came quietly to match the hour. She closed the book around a finger to keep her place and smiled. “Your timing’s good.”

Her eyes drifted briefly in the direction of the hallway before returning to him. “And no,” The blonde said, shaking her head once. “No trouble.”

“She’s good company.” Not said like she was being polite. Like she meant it.

Yvaine shifted slightly, setting the book aside on the coffee table.

She glanced toward the hallway again for a second; not checking, just listening out of habit after spending the evening tuned into the rhythms of someone else’s house.

Then she looked back at him. “You don’t have to do that thing where you apologize for leaving her with me.” Her smile softened slightly, "I didn't mind."

[rafaelcb]

"That vaguely sounds like a threat, I hope you know," but the airy tone to his voice said that he didn't take it very seriously if it was. Both because he was pretty sure that he could side step a chair by half an inch, and also because nothing about Yvaine really screamed 'malicious and out to ruin your day' thankfully. Maybe just to make you fall on your ass and a laugh a little, but who didn't love to make that happen? Still, "I'll remember to watch my step around you."

Wrinkling his nose at her argument that the coffee discourse was not that deep, he knew that it probably wasn't, to most people. But to him… well, it was sometimes the only thing that managed to get him through his day, and therefore it was hard to see it as anything but the most important thing in the world. "It's my life blood, thank you very much. No one wants their lawyer falling asleep in court, or to walk into a house they're seeing only to find their realtor asleep on the couch." Not that he really spent that much time showing houses; he spent more time behind his desk organizing that side of things, but… still.

"Slightly?" his brows shot up at her statement, "you mean miserable and intolerable, and then yes. I just can't get behind the idea of coffee and pumpkin being together. Pumpkin pie, pumpkin muffins, pumpkin bread, yes. But coffee?" He very nearly said 'yuck' before keeping it in check and shaking his head. And he drank it. Unfortunately. Only every now and then, and only when someone talked him into it, because sometimes he didn't want to be rude enough to say no… unfortunately.

Flipping open his wallet, he pulled out a decent amount of bills to drop into the tip jar, making sure that they fit in through the small hole to stay safe and sound, and let out a laugh as he glanced up at her. "Is that what you think I do? Go through life negotiating about when and where to be happy, and how much happiness I should allow myself?" Although, ouch, that might be a little too nail on the head, truthfully. Picking up the plate and the cup, he nodded his head, "although… you do know that the early morning trips into this place are a cause of that happiness, so you're not wrong."

[yvainelaurent]

The blonde woman blinked at him once, then let out a quiet exhale that was almost a laugh; small, controlled, but definitely there.

“Punctual with joy..” She repeated, like she was testing how ridiculous it sounded on her tongue. “That’s going to haunt me now.”

She leaned a little more casually against the counter, letting the tension of the earlier observation dissolve back into something lighter, easier: something they both knew how to do well.

“For the record,” She added, tilting her head, “if I ever was threatening you, you would not be debating coffee with me this comfortably.”

Yvaine attempted to give the other a moment to connect the dots for himself. “You’d be apologizing.” Her eyes flicked over him briefly, a spark of dry amusement settling in. “And you wouldn’t be mentioning pumpkin anything again. Ever.”

She straightened slightly, reaching for a cloth nearby and idly folding it between her fingers like she needed something to do with her hands while she spoke.

“I do think it’s interesting though,” The blonde continued, tone shifting back into that thoughtful, observant cadence of hers, “how quickly you defend your habits. It’s like they’re on trial every time someone disagrees with you. Very lawyer of you.” That last part landed with just enough tease to keep it from becoming too serious.

Then, softer, almost playful in a way that matched his energy better: “Don’t worry. I won’t tell the world that your happiness is schedule-dependent. I’ll let you maintain your illusion of spontaneity.”

She glanced up at him again, expression faintly amused. “Though I will say… if coffee is your life blood, I think that makes you slightly more fragile than you’re letting on.”

A casual pause, then a small, pointed look. “Which is good to know. In case I ever need leverage.”

[yvainelaurent]

Location: Cherry Amour Status: CLOSED @simsimmons

Warm air smelling of vanilla and brown sugar wrapped around Yvaine the second she stepped into Cherry Amour, though even the comforting sweetness of the bakery wasn’t enough to salvage what had already proven itself to be an objectively terrible day.

First, she'd locked herself out of her apartment. Then (because apparently humiliation enjoyed sequels) she'd somehow managed to do it again after finally getting back inside. By now she was surviving purely on caffeine deprivation, wounded pride, and spite.

The soft chime of the bakery door sounded behind her as she wandered toward the glass pastry display, already mentally promising herself something sugary as compensation for her suffering.

Only to stop short.

The raspberry danishes were gone.

Yvaine stared at the empty tray with the expression of someone witnessing betrayal in real time.

“You have got to be kidding me…” The blonde muttered beneath her breath.

[thewillmcdonald]

The thing about cliches was that more often than not, they were true. They had to be in order to be cliche in the first place. So if Will felt the world had come to a stop while simultaneously began spinning on every axis at once, the earth's orbit speeding up while time around them stood still, then it had to be true.

It was terribly cliche that a beautiful girl would cross his path at a book store, their hands lightly touching, a scorched patch of earth left behind based on the electricity of their brief touch- it was the kind of meet cute most authors could only dream of. But again, those cliches existed for a reason, and now both Will and Yvaine were stuck in the middle of one and that didn't bother him one bit.

Sincerity was scary, but Will would rather be honest than impressive - though he would be lying if he said he didn't care about what she thought about him. He was suddenly aware of his posture, the way his fingertips once again longed for hers, like a boat seeking its port. "I think you're right. People want to be understood, more than just being seen."

"I used to think the world was small, now I don't think that way at all."

"Like seeing yourself in a character validates that you feel it inside of yourself but someone else could feel it, too. That you're not uniquely odd, but that someone else out there relates to how you feel so not only is it real, but you're not alone in it. If no one has ever written about how you feel, then you're in trouble." He joked with a grin. "But I get what you're saying, about everyone else being in on the joke while you're left floundering and trying to figure it out... I felt that way, too. I think that's why I turned to books; the characters were figuring things out along with me."

The moment between them felt like something from one of those stories; one where boy meets girl and their lives are never the same. He wasn't sure exactly what cosmic force brought them together, but it was a feeling he wanted to explore. She was someone he wanted to know, and he was wanting the moment between them to last as long as it could as he scrambled to find a way to ask her to join him somewhere else in town.

He felt a blush rise to his cheeks again, spreading across his dimples and settling at his ears as they burned alongside them. "I read poetry in front of people, it's writing it that I do in secret." He mused softly, an admission he didn't often make. It was easy enough to explain reading any sort of book as a librarian, but baring your soul with words that you write yourself was a whole other ball game. "And you look like the kind of girl all the poems are about."

Will picked up the books again, placing them under his arm, "Here's hoping I sway you to charming." He nodded towards the register, "Coffee on me?" He asked, "There's a cafe just a few doors down."

[yvainelaurent]

He spoke like someone who carried entire worlds quietly beneath his ribs.

When he said you look like the kind of girl all the poems are about, Yvaine actually looked away for the first time since they’d met, a quiet breath escaping her as warmth rose unexpectedly beneath her skin.

The reaction felt embarrassingly visible.

She mustered, only half to herself, “You say that so casually.” Like it was a fact he just seared into her brain.

But there was no real reprimand in her words. Only flustered honesty - overwhelm - as her heart only hammered in her chest with such force that she was afraid it'd break free.

Her gaze eventually found him again, gentler now, something vulnerable lingering there before she tucked it carefully back beneath composure.

“For what it’s worth,” She began, “you feel a little bit like a first chapter.”

The words slipped out before she could overthink them.

And somehow that felt even more like a warning sign.

Then Will asked her to coffee.

Simple. Easy. Ordinary.

Which frightened her infinitely more than grand gestures ever could.

Because ordinary things were the ones people stayed for.

For a brief second, she hesitated; not because she didn’t want to go, but because she already did. Too quickly. Too instinctively.

Still, the small smile that surfaced afterward was unmistakably real.

“I think,” She spoke gently, “it would be very irresponsible of me to say no to coffee after all this discussion about human connection and literature.”

A faint tilt of her head followed, showing off her playfulness in her acceptance of continuing what just sparked between them minutes ago.

“Besides…” Her eyes flicked toward the stack of books beneath his arm. “I feel somewhat invested now in finding out what kind of poet you are.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

By the time they stepped into Cobblestone Café, the late afternoon light had shifted warmer, pouring gold through the front windows and catching against hanging plants, polished wood, and drifting steam from the espresso machine behind the counter.

The soft hum of conversation wrapped around them immediately.

Yvaine paused just slightly inside the doorway.

Not enough to seem uncertain. Just enough to take it in.

The café smelled like espresso, cinnamon, and fresh pastry; grounding scents she had slowly grown attached to since moving to town. Familiar enough now that something in her shoulders loosened instinctively the moment she entered.

And then she remembered, belatedly, that she was not here behind the counter for once.

She was here with someone.

The realization settled oddly warm within her chest.

A few people glanced up briefly as they walked in before returning to their conversations, the low indie music overhead soft enough not to interrupt anything. Yvaine tucked a strand of golden blonde hair behind her ear as her eyes drifted toward the chalkboard menu mounted behind the register.

“You know,” She murmured lightly as they moved toward the line, “I spend enough time here that this feels a little bit like being perceived in the wild.”

There was quiet humor in her words that came easier than before.

She was opening up even more to him.

Enough to joke. Enough to inform him of her workplace.

“Like seeing your teacher at the grocery store.”

A faint smile touched her mouth as she glanced sideways at him, continuing the lighthearted conversation.

“But less emotionally distressing.”

The line moved slowly, giving the moment room to breathe between them. At first, the young woman's hand gently grazed his. Her eyes quick to dart to his, her hand slow in pulling away.

"Sorry." It was quietly hurried. Like her mind was stuck on manners, but her heart wouldn't mind holding his hand right then.

Yvaine's cheeks glowed as she wound up folding her arms loosely against herself, gaze drifting briefly toward the rain-speckled windows before returning again with a clearer mind but a heart still struggling to stay in its cage.

“You were serious about poetry?” She asked softly after a the moment naturally settled.

There was no teasing in the question now. Only curiosity.

“I feel like people who write poetry secretly are either extremely romantic…” Her expression turned thoughtful. “Or emotionally catastrophic.” A playful smirk turned the corners of her lips upwards - marking she was being jocular with him.

[poetdept]

THE VAMPIRE DIARIES | 1.02 "The Night of the Comet"

[yvainelaurent]

@thewillmcdonald

[rayhall]

Panic 1x04: ESCAPE

[yvainelaurent]

@jaceeverett

[rafaelcb]

Deadpanning, Rafael shook his head, "I have it timed down to the steps from the front door to the counter, don't fret." And although he was mostly joking, he probably wasn't wrong. He had spent enough time in Cobblestone Cafe that he easily could have paced from the door to the register to his usual table and back to the door without missing a beat or looking up from his phone. He was, after all, a creature of habit, and that meant that he could navigate his phone and his way through town with no struggles at all.

Tilting his head from one side to the other when she said that the almond croissants had survived, he clicked his phone off and slid it into the pocket of his slacks, looking over at the case curiously. "Probably because most people want a sugar rush in the morning, so they go for as much sugar or chocolate as possible," he paused for a beat, raising one brow, "almond doesn't invoke an idea of being sugared up and vibrating through your first meeting of the day."

Watching as she began to pour the coffee, he snorted a laugh, "absolutely not. Anything that's flavored or sugared up or has a ton of extra creamer in it… that's not coffee. That's a sugared up mess that someone convinced themselves to make so that they can say that they like coffee, when really, they like milk, sugar and a drop of caffeine." And good Lord, should no one ever, ever ask him to try one of those pumpkin spice lattes, they just were not his cup of tea… ironically. "And the banana bread will do just fine."

[yvainelaurent]

Yvaine glanced up at him over the rim of the coffee cup she was securing with a lid, and despite herself, the corner of her mouth curved faintly.

“There’s something slightly concerning about that level of spatial confidence.” The blonde observed matter-of-factly. “One day, someone’s going to move a chair half an inch and completely destroy your system.”

The teasing sat lightly in her voice, easy in a way that still felt unfamiliar to her sometimes; effortless banter had never belonged much to the version of herself that lived beneath circus lights. But here, behind the counter with the morning sun spilling across polished wood and the smell of espresso lingering warm in the air, it came more naturally than she expected.

As Rafael launched into his deeply opinionated stance on coffee, Yvaine listened with quiet amusement growing steadily clearer across her face.

By the time he reached milk, sugar, and a drop of caffeine, she actually laughed; soft and brief, but unmistakably genuine.

“That sounded very personal.” She shook her head as she spoke. "You know, it's really not that deep."

She moved toward the pastry case then, crouching slightly to retrieve a slice of banana bread with practiced care before slipping it into a paper sleeve.

“And for the record,” She added as she straightened again, “some of us enjoy flavored coffee without losing our integrity.”

A tiny pause for impact.

“Though, I do think the pumpkin spice people become slightly unbearable every autumn.”

There was enough sincerity in the statement to make it difficult to tell whether she was joking.

She set the banana bread beside his coffee before finally sliding the cup toward him across the counter.

“Large black coffee,” She recited lightly, “and one tragically underrated baked good for the man who treats joy like a negotiation tactic.”

Her gaze flicked briefly toward the phone now tucked away in his pocket.

“You know,” She added with a mischievous glint in her baby blue eyes, “I think this was fun. Let's do it again, same spot - let's say 7:30AM?"

[thewillmcdonald]

"Time stops when suddenly you see her. Time stops, and what you thought you knew changes and life beyond this moment Is better, bigger."

If the world extended beyond this bookstore; Will had forgotten about it. He had only moved to town a few weeks before and hadn't met many people when suddenly, he met her. He wasn't sure what the tingling against his skin meant but he wanted to lean into it, the way a plant faced the sun. Like things became lighter. A connection with another person was rare for him, something he felt much more easily when it came to connecting with words.

But then there they were, two souls meeting in as cliche of a spot as a bookstore. Maybe life lined up this way on purpose, maybe they were both on a collision course for each other without knowing. He needed to let someone in, needed to allow himself to be vulnerable. Years of therapy let him know his deep seeded abandonment issues would never go away, but at least they could exist in a way that was manageable. It was easy to push others away, and much harder to allow himself to admit he didn't want to be alone. Something about her made this admission easier somehow, like he could exist freely alongside her.

"I agree. Without stories, we'd be left alone with only our own thoughts and that would be a scary place. We need stories to see how things could be, to allow ourselves to dream." If anyone overheard their conversation, Will would not fault them for scoffing at its pretentiousness; but inside their words, he knew they were both sincere. It no longer ached inside of him to be vulnerable and open, both of them seemingly within a similar frame of mind enough to know they truly believed what they were saying.

He nodded, and noted the way she skirted by being a performer, the emphasis on the word 'was' clicking somewhere deep within him. He didn't press it now, but he made mental note of it for later. Clearly, there was more beneath the surface of that admission but he wasn't going to pry. He could sense the wound there wasn't cauterized enough to speak about and he didn't want to run the risk of offending her.

"I definitely relate to that." He murmured, "My manual must have gotten lost in the mail. Maybe that's what drew me to books; a way to try and fill in the gaps of the information I didn't come pre-programmed with."

He listened intently, identifying and relating to so much of what she was saying. Like the world and everything he needed to know about it was right there, something he could see and almost touch, but was sheltered off from him just beyond his reach. Like being a stranger in your own life, constantly walking back into yourself. "Recognition, I think, is what most authors want people to find in their stories. If you can recognize yourself in a character, then you relate to it and to their story."

Smiling at her warmly, he shook her hand, "Nice to meet you, Yvaine." He echoed. His gaze followed hers before their eyes met again, and he cocked a brow. "Oh?" He questioned, tugging at the skin of his bottom lip. "Well, thank you. But I should say that I think you have the same affect, except I've already realized it."

[yvainelaurent]

For a moment, Yvaine forgot to look away.

That alone felt like treacherous waters.

Most interactions in her life existed in passing; soft-edged and temporary, people brushing against her orbit briefly before continuing on. She had become very good at that kind of connection. Brief warmth. Polite distance. Leaving before anything settled deeply enough to hurt.

But standing here with Will felt strangely unlike that.

Like something quietly unfolding before either of them had decided to let it.

His words settled over her slowly, not with the overwhelming intensity she associated with grand declarations, but with something softer and far more destabilizing: sincerity. The kind that didn’t ask to impress. The kind that simply existed because it was true.

Her fingers loosened slightly from his hand, though she realized belatedly she still hadn’t fully pulled away.

When she finally did, it was slow. Almost as if doing such would pop their private little bubble of sanctuary they seemingly have found with one another.

Like she was afraid she made him up and that letting go would have him disappearing between her fingers and past her fingertips.

Yvaine’s gaze lingered on him for another second too long before dipping briefly toward the books stacked between them.

“I think,” The blonde started feathery, “some people spend their whole lives trying to find proof they’re understandable.”

The bookstore hummed quietly around them, warm light catching along worn shelves and faded covers. Somewhere nearby, someone laughed softly before disappearing deeper into the aisles.

“But stories… Stories let people feel less alone inside themselves for a little while.”

When he spoke about missing manuals and learning how to exist through books, something in her expression softened immediately; not pity, not sadness. Familiarity.

Too much familiarity.

“I used to think everyone else learned how to belong naturally." She admitted. “Like there was some invisible choreography to being a person that I kept missing.”

A faint smile touched her mouth then, gentler now, though she still beamed like rays of sunshine.

“And books helped because characters were honest in ways people usually aren’t.”

There was irony in that somewhere.

Fiction feeling safer than reality. Invented people easier to trust than real ones.

When Will said he’d already realized the effect she had on him, Yvaine felt the breath catch lightly in her chest before she could stop it.

The reaction embarrassed her a little and formulated on her cheeks in a pale pink shade. Not because she disliked hearing it. Because she did like it. Too much.

Her eyes lifted fully back to his, something quieter and more vulnerable suspended there for a fleeting second before she tucked it carefully away again beneath composure. His smile was disarming, and suddenly all those sappy songs about men who put gods to shame started to make sense.

“You say things like someone who reads poetry when nobody’s watching...” The young woman murmured.

The observation carried warmth threaded delicately through it.

Then, after the briefest pause: “And that’s either very charming or very dangerous.” A small tilt of her head through her playful teasing. “I haven’t decided which yet.”

But the softness in her expression suggested she already knew the answer.

"So... what're you going to do about that?"

Her head tilted slightly, a silent invitation she hoped he picked up on. Usually, she wouldn't be as forward as she was in the moment. Yvaine chalking it up to how she was still basking in the presence of his smile and how she was the one to bring it to life in the first place.

[weltenwellen]

Alex Dimitrov, from "Love“