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amongemeraldclouds · 7 months ago

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not being romantic

Jess Mariano may be cute, possibly charming, but he is most definitely annoying. He certainly can’t hold a candle to your secret pen pal who’s smart, loves books, and aspires to be an author. Or can he?

Jess Mariano x f!Reader

Warning: no use of y/n, mostly fluff, some angst, cursing, suggestiveness. This fic is set after he left Stars Hollow.

✿ Masterlist | 3.3k words

The cafe buzzed with the rush of customers lined up for their afternoon caffeine fix. Coffee machines droned on churning coffee as sunlight streamed through the windows and the smell of baked goods wafted through the air.

You smirked at Jess Mariano before you called the customer to hand them their drink. You proceeded to add another point to your scoreboard, waving your arm for emphasis. He rolled his eyes at your dramatics and hurried up, adding whipped cream to the drink he was preparing.

Everything was always a game with him. Who could get the highest amount of tips? Who could guess the new customer's coffee order? Who could make the most convincing foreign accent?

Today’s game was: who could make the fastest coffee order?

“You’ve gotten better,” he observed as you grabbed a cup for the next customer. “Aren’t you glad to have had an incredible instructor like me?”

You scoffed, “more like an incredible loser if you don’t hurry up with that order. Just because you taught me, doesn’t mean I’d go easy on you, Mariano,” you taunt, narrowing your eyes for emphasis.

He shook his head with a smile, “I expected nothing less from you.” He made his way to the other end of the counter to call the customer and handed them their drink.

Another busy shift flew by and before you knew it, it was time to close down the cafe.

You grabbed the scoreboard, beaming with pride. “I won! You can now call me the Queen of Speed, Barista Extraordinaire. Bow down before your queen.”

Jess looked up from where he was wiping the counter with a flat expression. “I’ll call you the Queen of Clean if you help me with these last few tables?”

You frowned at him and stuck your tongue out, of course he had a whole arsenal of retorts with him at any given moment. You grabbed the towel and disinfectant spray from behind the counter and moved to wipe down the tables. “You’re no fun, but I’ll let it slide since you now owe me a favor.”

“As long as I don’t have to help you dispose of a body then it’s fine,” he replied, eyebrow raised.

You rolled your eyes, “if I ever need to dispose a body, it would probably be yours.”

“Are you confessing to something you’ll commit? I don’t think that’s very wise.”

“I’m not planning anything,” you sighed, pinching your nose. The conversation was getting more and more off topic by the second. “You, however, will be the dea*h of me.”

“I’ll add you to the waitlist,” he nodded as he set aside the towel and grabbed the key, ready to close for the evening. Of course that wasn't the first time that line was directed at him.

“You’re just trying to avoid what you owe me. Stop deflecting, Mariano,” you accused, heading towards him to return the cleaning materials. “I need your help with my toaster, it stopped working and I can’t afford to get it fixed or replaced. Can you help me with that?”

“Of course, anything for the Queen of Speed,” he replied.

“You forgot Barista Extraordinaire,” you added helpfully.

Jess just shook his head as if to say, I can’t win with you. He fought the smile that threatened to break across his features. Perhaps you too had your own arsenal of comebacks.

With the final turn of the key, the door swung in and you and Jess headed into your tiny apartment. It was a studio that’s three steps away from the kitchen, five steps away from the bathroom, and ten steps away from the bed. You liked to keep it simple, minimalistic. It definitely had nothing to do with the cheap rent.

“Welcome to my apartment. It’s not much but it’s home,” you said, gesturing around the place.

“It’s cozy and it’s very you,” he remarked.

You folded your arms and stared at him, “I can’t tell if that’s an insult or a compliment.”

“Let me see. Second hand furniture, potted plants around the area, and the artwork looks similar to your napkin doodles. Don’t think I didn’t notice them. It’s a mosaic of different things, but you managed to tie it all together and make it work. It’s just like you to make good out of a potentially bad situation,” he observed.

“Slow down there or you’ll end up hosting shows about house tours,” you teased. “And hey, I’ll take the compliment. Who knew Jess Mariano could be nice?”

He shrugged, “I just call it like I see it.”

You took the three steps necessary to reach the kitchen. “Here’s the troublemaker, by the way. Not you, well, aside from you,” you amended and pointed to the toaster. “Not sure what’s wrong, it just stopped working.”

He approached you and it struck you just how small the kitchen was, certainly not big enough for two. When you turned to speak to him, all the words left your mind as you realized you’re only inches away from him. Heat crept up your cheeks and you blinked.

Jess smirked at your reaction, keenly aware of the effect he had to you. That cocky bastard. He leaned in a bit closer and your breath hitched. “You know, if you just wanted me over at your place, there’s a lot of other fun things I can help you with.” You scrunched your nose and took a step back, immediately transported to the area you considered your bedroom. “If that’s your way of confessing your feelings for me, it’s not very romantic at all. Thought you’d have more game than that, Mariano,” you hedged.

“Oh, that’s because I’m not trying to be romantic. If I were trying....” he said, taking a step forward, closing the distance you tried to place between you. He brushed the hair away from your cheek, the touch so unexpectedly tender coming from Jess. You took in how soft his lips looked up close.

When he touched the side of your face, your attention returned to his soulful eyes. “...I’d do something like this,” he concluded, his breath against your lips like the ghost of a kiss. That’s all it took for him to steal the breath from your lungs.

You’re disoriented when cool air greets you again as he took a step back and the only trace left is the fading warmth from where his hand caressed your cheek. “But like I said, I’m not trying to be romantic,” he shrugged.

You cleared your throat, brushing off the lingering heat of the interaction. You ignored the pang of disappointment that hit you. Besides, someone else already had your heart, this was nothing but a silly little crush. “Well can you please try to fix my toaster?” you asked, trying to stay on topic as always.

“Sure, I have tools at home. I can take it with me and bring it back when I’m done.”

You nodded, “okay thank you. Let me just grab a bag you can carry it in.”

He scanned the room while you opened the cabinet to grab a reusable bag.

“Why do you have lots of mail?” He asked, thumbing through the pile of opened envelopes on your kitchen counter.

You mulled over the question, unsure how much you wanted to share with Jess Mariano and risk a round of his teasing. Then again, you could handle Jess. “Well, there’s this guy I really like. We send each other letters. If you really want to know what romantic is, Mariano, it’s hand written letters. No one bothers to write them anymore. There’s something sweet and sincere about it.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

“I’m not really sure. I got his first letter from the bookstore I frequent, the employee handed it to me and I asked him to hand back my reply. We just kept going from there, I think the mystery just adds to the romance.”

Jess shot you a worried look. “You mean to say, you’re corresponding with a complete stranger? For all you know he’s hiding his identity because he’s a stalker or a serial killer.”

“Please, he is not. He is smart, funny, and he’s writing a book. I just don’t feel like he’s that type of person.”

“You’re going off this based on your feelings? I don’t think that’s wise or safe.”

“Jess, it’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about,” you replied, having had enough of him for the day. After handing him the bag with the broken toaster, you shoved him towards the door and out from your apartment, wishing him a good night.

“That was quick,” you said as you headed out of the cafe and walked towards Jess’ apartment to retrieve your now functional toaster.

Jess shrugged, “it was no big deal, just had a few loose screws to reattach. Speaking of loose screws, how about that imaginary boyfriend of yours? Finally decide to reveal himself?”

You sighed, Jess had been on your case the whole week since you told him about your mysterious crush. Needless to say, you regretted telling him about it. “No, but he hasn’t written to me recently,” you pondered. “He must be busy writing his book.”

“Or planning your untimely demise,” he retorts.

“Jess, I swear,” you grit your teeth, “I’ll be planning your untimely demise if you don’t drop it. Why do you care so much? Are you jealous? Is that what this is about?”

“Well I’m trying to look out for a coworker, why does this have to be about me? But hey, I’ll drop it,” he relented. “Besides, I won today so you owe me a favor.”

You groaned, but don’t say anything further. He won fair and square, you were ready to accept your fate.

Jess continued, “My uncle sent some food last night and I have a lot more than I can finish myself. Help me with that before you leave with your toaster?”

“Jess Mariano,” you narrowed your eyes at him, “are you asking me out for dinner?”

“No,” he quickly said and then caught himself. “We’re not going out, we’re dining in. Besides if I were being romantic, I might bring you flowers, pick you up, take you somewhere nice. So this,” he said, pointing between him and you, “is not me being romantic.”

“And there goes Mr. Defensive,” you smirked. Of course he was not being romantic, not to you. He had a hundred and one ways to tease and annoy you but never to charm you. Still, you couldn’t help the way it killed you just a little inside.

“I swear if you tell me this is where the magic happens, I will smack your head,” you deadpan as Jess opened the door to his apartment.

“Why does that turn me on?” He teased. Your face twisted in confusion and disgust and Jess laughed triumphantly, having drawn out a reaction from you. You had no idea you were adorable, he thought.

“Just welcome to my home then,” he said.

You stepped in, admiring his cozy space. You imagined a messy home with leftover containers and soda cans strewn about reeking of old laundry and faded furniture. You had little to no expectations at all.

Instead what greeted you was a small space, similar to yours. The bed was made, blanket tucked in neat corners and the furniture, while undoubtedly secondhand, was well maintained. If anything, the mismatched pillows against the pale blue sofa and the sanded down wooden table gave it personality. It smelled like subtle household cleaners and carried the scent that is so distinctly Jess, a mixture of soap and sweat, plus a hint of cologne he would never admit to wearing.

“It’s very you,” you remarked, “and I don’t mean that as a bad thing.”

He shrugged, handing you your toaster, “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Thanks again for the toaster. Now there’s only one troublemaker here in this room,” you quipped as you move towards his kitchen to help him set the dinner table.

“That’s definitely you,” he replied, handing you the plates and utensils while he moved to heat up the food from the fridge. “Hand me the glasses over there?” He asked, pointing to the drawers on the opposite end.

You nodded, setting down the plates on the table and headed towards the drawer. “Well, I’ll let it slide just this time because you’re feeding me and I can’t say no to free food. Thank you Jess,” you said, a small hint of affection blooming in your chest.

You opened the first drawer and found only papers. You were about to close it to check the next drawer when the familiar edge of stationery caught your eye. It was exactly the type of paper you smiled at for hours on end, trying to memorize each word. Curiosity got the better of you and you lifted a half written letter to your eyes. A half written letter addressed to you.

A storm of emotions struck you then: confusion, hurt, and anger. All this time. The boy who weaseled his way into your heart, who called you cute in his first letter and wanted to get to know you. Who charmed you into the romantic idea of secret identities like spies undercover. Who shared your love for books and had the best recommendations that made you feel seen like no one ever has. Who spoke about his love for writing with a passion that inspired you.

All this time it was Jess Mariano.

All this time it was a lie.

Just another one of his games.

“What about those gla—” he stopped mid-sentence when he turned back and saw you reading his letter.

“Fuck,” he exhaled softly as heat crept into his cheeks.

You looked at him, fire burning in your eyes. “Is that all you have to say, Mr. Fantastic Writer?” You huffed, trying to quell the tears that threatened to choke you.

Jess opened his mouth and closed it, wanting to say a million words and failing. You watched the war raging in his head.

“Well then indeed, fuck!” You exclaimed in frustration. “And fuck you too. I know you love your games Jess, but you can’t just go around playing with other people’s feelings.”

You retreat and grabbed your things, shaking your head. “God, I feel like such a fool.”

You threw the door behind you and was a few steps away when you realized you left your toaster. Shame and betrayal marched with you as you opened his door again and found him still frozen where you left him.

“I’m just here for my toaster, which I actually need. Unlike you, I don’t need anything from you, Jess. I’ve read and heard enough,” you said, your voice wavered at the end and tears spilled down your cheeks.

You turned away from embarrassment, toaster in hand, and ran the rest of the way home. He didn’t deserve to hear your sobbing. He didn’t even deserve any of your tears. He was just a stupid boy that your stupid heart fell for. No big deal.

The next week passed in a blur. Unable to switch shifts with anyone else, you called in sick at the cafe and lived life between your university, the library, and your apartment. Never mind that you needed the pay, you could drown in instant noodles for all you cared. It didn’t matter anyway. A broken heart never cared for a full stomach.

That Friday, you were about to call it a night when the doorbell rang. The was odd, you thought, you weren’t expecting anyone.

“You’ve got the wrong—” you stopped mid-sentence when you saw the last person you ever wanted to see, Jess Mariano holding a bouquet of flowers and books. If it were any other day, it might have sent butterflies to your stomach. Now all it did was fan the flames of your anger because it was much easier to be angry than hurt.

You slammed the door close but Jess stopped it with his outstretched arm. “Are you trying to get yourself injured?” You accused and you hated it, how much you still cared.

“Please, I just need to talk,” he said, pain and sincerity etched in his handsome face.

You sighed and let him in, not wanting to cause a scene at the hallway. “You have five minutes,” you held up your hand for emphasis.

“Fine, five minutes,” he breathed, steeling himself. "Here’s a story for you: I met this girl working at a cafe. She’s smart and quick witted, she never runs out of comebacks. Her smile makes my day and I needed to see more of it so I came up with these games. And damn it, I looked forward to going to work every day because of her.

There was a nagging at the back of my mind to get to know her better. I wanted her to get to know me too, but I have a track record of screwing things up so I sent a letter. Just one couldn’t hurt, right?

Clearly, I underestimated her. One letter was never going to be enough. I loved hearing about her dreams, her stories, the inside jokes we created along the way. Without meaning to, I fell for her. I fell for you. It was never a game for me, all of it was real. Is still real.

When I heard you liked your secret pen pal too, I didn’t know if I should reveal myself or just disappear, let you forget me. Of course, I screwed things up again. I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt you but clearly I have. Would you give me a second chance? I’m not good at this but I want to try."

He’s breathless by the time he ends his speech and you take a moment as the words settled in. No wonder he discouraged your interest in your secret pen pal, which also turned out to be him.

You sighed, “you really screwed it up.” Your heart broke all over again only to come back whole together because he did like you. All those silly gestures he brushed off really did mean something. And the boy you loved through letters and your cafe crush turned out to be the same person.

You pondered his question. The way he went about it was all wrong, but a second chance might be worth a shot. “Fine, we can start over, but you’ll have to make it up to me. You owe me unlimited favors.”

“I'll fix all the toasters you need,” he said, presenting you with the bouquet of flowers and books.

“Oh you’ll have to do more than that. I have a broken bulb on the ceiling, the heater needs fixing, and the microwave will definitely break tomorrow,” you taunted him, accepting his bouquet nevertheless.

He just smiled, “I have a lot to make up for, but I’ll do it for you.” He moved closer to you, bringing the bouquet to rest on the kitchen counter, so he can wrap his arms around you. “You’re worth it,” he whispered in your ear and you hugged him back, fighting off the delicious chill that ran through your back from his words. Being in his arms felt so right.

“You like me,” you sing, teasing him like a child and you enjoy the way his chest rumbles against you as he laughs.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” he said, kissing your cheek. “Besides, you like me back.”

You removed yourself from his hug, already missing his warm embrace. “I never said I liked you,” you teased.

Mock hurt danced across his features, “what’s not to like?”

You laughed at his arrogance, the need to touch him overwhelming everything else. “Fine,” you relented, “we can call it even.”

You closed the distance this time, “just to be clear, this is you being romantic?”

He smirked, wrapping his arms around your waist again. “Yes, this is me being romantic and I will show you so much more,” he said, bringing his lips to yours with a thousand unsaid promises you were about to discover.

✿ Masterlist

Author's note:

✿ When I came across a Jess Mariano fic, I just knew I had to write one too. Jess and his sarcastic ass in a (sort of) rivals to lovers trope, heck yes. ✿ Thanks to my lovely wife @pizzaapeteer for encouraging me to write this all those weeks ago ♡ ✿ Published this fic from a cafe, very on brand for the story.

#jess mariano #jess mariano x you #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano fluff #jess mariano imagine #gilmore girls #amongemeraldcloudswrites

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months ago

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To a Tea 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A demanding customer grows increasingly needy.

Character: Raymond Smith

The title is a pun, don't @ me.

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

“He’s here,” Jenna’s warning brings you attention away from siphoning what’s left off the peppermint leaves into the fresh tin.

You glance over without any other directive. He always waits in that same spot. Even if the table’s empty, he doesn’t sit right away. You give you co-worker a look and smile as you put the lid on the tin and slide it out of the way.

You wash your hands thoroughly before you grab the cylinder of disinfecting wipes and sweep around the end of the counter. You step out onto the tea room floor as his eyes find you, expecting you. You’ve adjusted to his ritual, almost compelled to it.

“Hello, Raymond,” you great as you approach the empty table for two where he sits with his back to the wall and his eyes towards the door.

“Miss,” he greets in his way.

He’s a bit uptight. Others might say worse but once you learn his quirks, he’s very human. Even if everything else about him is mysterious.

Sometimes you build stories about him in his head. His glasses, his neatly styled hair, and his combed beard suggest a man with an eye for his appearance. His suits might be better fit to library or a professor’s podium. Not sleek enough for a board room. Then you think he might be a writer of sorts but you’ve never seen him with a laptop or pen and most of the local authors don’t show up without one or the other.

You take out a wipe and take your time in getting every inch of the table. You back up as he removes his jacket and you back out of his way. He sidles around the and sits, shoulders set as he grips the table and straightens it.

Whoever he is, he’s very precise.

“Usual?” You ask with a smile.

He looks at you and reaches to pinch the arm of his glasses. The first time he came in, you remember you could’ve melted at his gaze. So stony and unyielding, you wondered why he was even there. Now, there is an ease to it. He prefers the familiar and you have become that.

“Yes, usual,” he agrees.

You nod and swiftly turn on your heel. You go back behind the counter as Jenna snoops from behind the cookie display. You shake your head at her as you wash your hands a second time. He will certainly note that as well.

You go to steep his cup of English Breakfast as the other woman nears and watches the steaming water at your side.

“Don’t know how you do it. He should just have tea at home.”

“Can’t complain for business,” you shrug.

“Why bother? All that fuss for a cuppa.”

“Maybe he likes the ambience?” You suggest.

“He said the lights give him headaches.”

“Oh?”

“Well, he pays his bill. That’s all I ask for,” you add a teaspoon of milk, measuring it out exactly and you move the tab of the bag to hang to the left of the handle.

“Mm, and he sures asks a lot of you, don’t he?” She crosses her arms.

“Jenna,” you look towards the till where a customer waits.

“Ugh, you’re such a bore,” she chides.

You go back into the tea room and cross to Raymond’s table. You set the cup and saucer before him.

“Enjoy,” you insist.

“Cheers,” he hooks his finger into the handle and turns the cup to an exact angle.

You lean back on your heel and he raises his palm, “do you... have any suggestions?”

“For?” You wonder.

“I thought to try something with my tea today. What do you recommend?”

“Well, were we thinking something savoury or sweet?” You reply breezily, “our cheese scones are delicious, and there is the chives and onion bake. I sneak one every Friday. Erm, there are the white chocolate shortbread on special and I think we’ve sold out of the cherry tarts. Oh, if you’d like a combination, there is the cranberry cheddar scone. I don’t mind it but I hate the crumbles.”

He considers you thoughtfully and crosses his arms. He mills the decision with his lips clamped. His blues eyes narrow behind his lenses.

“Do you have plain shortbread?”

“Of course,” you chime, “two for a pound.”

“Two will do,” he agrees.

You hold your smile and once more set off on your mission. He might be stringent, a bit repressed, but you’ve dealt with worse customers. More demanding, sometimes outrightt rude.

You dip behind the counter and grab a plate. You use the tongs to take two of the shortbread biscuit and place them on a clean plate. You take a napkin with you and once more emerge from behind the displays.

You approach Raymond as he sips his tea. You put the plate and serviette before him. He thanks you and adjusts his tie, letting his hand drift down his vest.

“Is that it, sir? Tea alright?”

“That’s it,” he affirms.

“Great, you know where I’ll be,” you chirp and spin.

You stop before you can bring your foot down as he calls your name. He’s only ever said it once. The first time you met. It’s always ‘miss’.

You turn to face him, “yes?”

“Your apron strings are uneven...” he says. “Just figured... I’d warn you.”

You nearly laugh. What an odd thing to worry about. You reach back behind your waist and feels the lengths. Sure enough, you’ve tied them entirely off kilter. You suppose you don’t pay too much attention to that.

“Thanks for letting me know.”

He nods and examines one of the cookies. Then his eyes flick up and keep you from another retreat, “I could fix it.”

“Oh, er, that’s fine,” you wave him off, “not a big deal.”

“It doesn’t bother you?” He wonders.

“Not really,” you shrug, “does it bother you?”

His brows raise slightly and he taps the cookie, shaking off the crumbs as much as he can. He leans forward and nibbles over the plate, making certain not to litter over the edge. He puts the biscuit down and wipes his fingers on the napkin.

“It does,” he says.

You won’t laugh at him. It would truly be at his expense, it’s just a very unexpected offer. You put your arms straight, “if you want.”

You near and turn your back to him. You sense him leaning forward as you stand stalk straight and watch the tea room. The smell of cinnamon and cloves fills the warm space, the shades giving an orangish hue to the din. There are low tables near the center with pillow seats, and the high tables along the walls. You know all the creaks and cracks better than your own home.

You feel him tug the knot loose and his fingers work agilely to tie a new knot. He lets it hang but just as quickly looses it again. You try not to move as he does it several times before he relents.

“There, ears and tails match,” he declares.

You step away and turn to send him a smile, “thanks.”

He doesn’t say anything, only raises his cup and doffs it in a kind gesture before he sips. You twist away again. You should help Jenna before the rush begins. That’s the only thing about Raymond, he does take up a lot of time.

#raymond smith #dark raymond smith #dark!raymond smith #raymond smith x reader #the gentlemen #drabble #sweet and spicy #au #series #to a tea

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solbaby7 · 11 months ago

Text

Seen

[part 2 of the “Seen” mini-series]

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: stranger danger, mentions of alcohol, some swearing, tension, probably typos

summary: Danger lurks around every corner but you've found friends in the shadows.

—

Your feet really fucking hurt.

You’d told yourself countless times to stop wearing these shoes when working the bar but for some reason, whenever you were in a rush and scrambling to screw your head on straight, your feet always seemed to subconsciously slip into these death traps.

They offer no resistance against the slick floors and you’d nearly dropped three pitchers when turning to serve them but something had steadied you; cool and quick and gone when your head snapped back to catch the culprit. “When are you off?” Your regular asks over the rim of his beer; his hands always wrapped in thick bandaging, around the tips of his fingers and this time there was a butterfly bandage near his nose.

“You know me, off when the last person leaves.” The rag is warm in your hands, the strong smell of disinfectant burning your nose but it’s better than leaving the suspicious stick of whatever had been left behind from previous customers on the countertops. “You been sharpening those swords without your safety helmet again?”

His cheeks go red, a little smile pulling at his mouth. “Don’t start—you’re sounding like my missus.”

“Sounds like she’s a smart woman.” You’re off before he can answer, falling into the usual rhythm of greeting and pouring—the occasional disappearing to lug in more ice before wiping the bar down and repeating it before the tables were moved for the band to settle in.

“Have you fallen on your ass yet?” A familiar voice drawls out from behind you, arms crossed on the bar top.

The smile pulls immediately, life seeming to pour back into you when Nesta comes into view and you’re preparing her a beer in seconds. “Not yet but the night is still young.”

“You should just throw them away—you’re going to complain all night about the blisters.”

“I’ll throw them away the second you throw out that dress; the moth bitten holes in it makes you look like a spinster.”

She huffs out a laugh over her beer, shoulders relaxing and form leaning in closer as she mumbled something about that being fair enough. There’s casual conversation, quick catch ups since her last visit and the usual muttered apologies for not coming sooner but it’s always waved off by that warm smile of yours. “Don’t explain yourself. Life happens, I get it.”

Maybe that was why Nesta always found herself coming back here; even when she didn’t really like the beer or the ambiance because people dry humping against one another on the open floor didn’t exactly categorize under one of her favorite things. You just understood—no pressures, no forced words and explanations; just motherly smiles and hands that felt safe when patting atop Nesta’s own. “So, you and Azriel?”

The glass you were cleaning slips from your hands and crashes to the floor, the grin pulling on Nesta’s face the picture of pure mischief. Those grey-blue eyes never leave you as you rush for the glass broom, sweeping away your clumsiness and waving off the male customers who liked to act as your security guards. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” She hums, flicking at a stack of napkins. “Then, why’d he ask me about you?”

You’re caught red handed when you whip around to face her, obviously intrigued and unable to hide the curiosity when you take a step closer, hands leaning before her against your side of the bar. “Asked about what?”

“Asked who you were and what I knew about you.”

“And what did you say?”

“I told him the truth.”

Your brows furrow, the bell on the front door ringing to life and a group of rowdy men begin to filter in when you shout out a, “Sorry, bars closed.” Your eyes are back on her in an instant, ignoring their groans of displeasure before going back there they came to find a place who would serve them. “What’s that mean, you told him the truth?”

Nesta shrugs, annoyingly aloof and it takes your hand smacking against the bar for her to continue, a pleased look in her eye; she loved riling you up, always crooning some patronizing comment about being adorable when you’re upset. “Relax, I just told him your name—how we met. He seemed satisfied enough.”

“Satisfied enough with what?”

“With the fact that you’ll probably be around often since we’re such good friends.” She continues when picking up on your blush, fingers busying themselves with organizing items that already had a home. “Which is why after you’re off; you’re spending the night with me.”

“But what about, Marco?”

Nesta’s amusement fades at the mention of your cat; a slinking ball of inky black fur and jade green eyes that seemed to follow her every move—it was the only thing she’d found remotely intimidating. “Not a chance.”

“Then, I can’t go.” You sigh. “I’ve been gone all day, it’s unfair for me to leave him alone all night too.”

She doesn’t any anything; mouth screwed up into a snarl while she watches you actually begin close the bar down and when she glances at the clock she notices there’s at least another two hours left of your shift. “Fine, I’ll send someone for him but if I wake up and he’s staring down into my soul again I’ll make Elain cook him for breakfast.”

Her drink is paid for and her cloak is heavy on slender shoulders but no one dared bother her as she left, hair billowing behind her with the gust of wind that poured through the open doors. It takes a few seconds to start moving normally again, your mind too consumed with the swelling excitement and anxiety that resulted from thinking about the shadowsinger but the night finishes fairly quickly. Without more drinks flowing, the guests are hasty to close their tabs and stumble out; that same disinfectant burning your nose as you clean the tables and seats; an old broom sweeping away peanut shells and beer caps.

Exhaustion begins to settle when flipping chairs, tipping out the band and locking the back door behind them. Nesta was right about the shoes though—you definitely should throw them away. Especially with the slight limp that forms from the pain of skin and cloth rubbing against cheap leather.

It’s prickly outside as you lock up, fingers grazing against the light switch when you hear the footsteps start behind you. The hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention, heart thudding in your chest the closer they get, the inebriated mumbling and heavy breathing. “Look what we’ve got here.” His voice carries through the night and you’re quick to start walking towards the light; towards where people might still be lingering but it was awfully late and the promise of safety seemed to grow more slim the further he followed. “Why are you running? I just want to talk.”

You don’t dare look back, feet moving so quickly you were sure you’d start flying but that doesn’t happen and when a heavy hand clamps down on your shoulder, the reaction steals your breath away. Cool shadows appear from out of your cloak, wrenching the man’s hand away so hard he lets out a yelp. Another shadow covers his mouth as two others drag him off between two dark buildings but you’re frozen in place—feet cemented to the ground and eyes so wide you thought they’d roll clean out of your head.

You look around for the master of the shadows, searching for that golden brown skin and dark hair; those hazel eyes and giant membraneous wings.

He’s not there.

Not when you gain the courage to whisper his name and not when the shadows return—alone. They don’t retreat back to hiding in your cloak, instead they sift through your hair and over the spot where the man had grabbed you, all circling around as if assessing for damage before one nudges at the bottom of your spine, pushing you in the direction of their choice.

And without another word, you follow.

—

Nesta is quick to link arms when you arrive, not bothering to thank the giant soldier with shoulder length hair that she’d sent out to get you just outside of town. He’d peered down at you closely, smelling the anxiety permeating from your form, the shaky hands and jumpy demeanor that you’d brushed off with a kind smile. Cassian; she later reveals with a look you’d never seen on her face before but when you raise a brow she’s quick to return it—averting the conversation with little issue. “I think I like Marco a little more now; he put up quite the fight when I sent Cassian to retrieve him.”

“Is that what those scratches were?” You keep your voice down, unsure if he could still hear. “I thought he was just a little freaky in bed.”

Nesta lets out a bark of a laugh, quickly guiding you into her room and shutting the door behind her. Marco is already at your feet, front paws stretching and butt up in the air as his tail swished back and forth around your ankle. A quick scratch behind the ear and he’s already off again, smoothly jumping up on a desk and carefully weaving through stacked books. “You close up okay?”

Briefly, your mind flashes back to the man—to the shadows that had protected you and urged you away when your head tried to turn and see what had become of the stranger who dared reach for you. You hadn’t seen them since Cassian had come for you, hands rustling through your clothes for any sign of them but nothing. “Yeah, everything was fine.”

There's a second where you're sure she's caught you—her recently acquired fae hearing always clueing her in on any slight change of your heartbeat or when the scent of your chemistry shifted when under emotional duress; but Nesta is quick to fill the silence with words. You'd listened earnestly when she rambled about her books or how much she hated when her sister kept poking and prodding at her to open up but Nesta had gotten especially riled up once you'd mentioned Cassian. "Is he the one you say is just so infuriating?"

"He's a brute— a complete animal. There's no way anything could ever happen between us."

"Are you telling me or convincing yourself?"

Nesta shoots you a stare, gaze hot when she stomps to the door, house slippers nearly flying off her feet in her haste as she flipped you the middle finger. "I'm going to grab us some drinks, stay put."

Only a minute had passed, maybe less.

You truly had every intention of listening until Marco slipped through the sliver sized crack in the door and disappeared down the hallway. "Marco," You call out, voice hushed and motions frantic as you rush to retrieve him before he wandered off somewhere you couldn't save him from. "Get back here, right now."

You hadn't realized how large the home truly was, long hallways lined with door after door. Generations of wealth showed proudly in the gold crown moulding and runner carpets so soft your toes sunk into the plush material. A piece of you yearns for another shadow to whisk you away to wander around and gaze at the wonders acquired by Azriel and his friends—his family.

You nearly forget the objective, thoughts straightened out when your peripheral catches the movement of inky black fur slipping into a room on the right. Light still glowed from under the door, heart thumping wildly in your chest as you prayed it were empty when you slip inside. You're not even fully in the room, the end of your nightgown just barely missing getting caught when you whisper out. “Marco?“

“We really should stop meeting like this.”

A shout pulls from you, hand smacking over your chest and the breathless laugh the follows is filled with relief. "Mother above, I thought I was done for."

Azriel doesn’t answer, wings pulled high behind him as Marco studies him throughly, whiskers taut when creeping forward to sniff at him. “This belongs to you?”

“He.”

Marco doesn’t give in easily; not until a shadow pulls forward and the feline instantly relaxes, body easing into the floor and soft belly exposed in submission. “Interesting.”

You’re unbearably aware of the lack of clothing you’re wearing and your arms subconsciously cross over your chest. “He’s gotten pretty used to them,” You confess softly, eyes darting about the room. Dark curtains draped over tall windows, a giant bed fit for giant wings with a thick duvet that probably costed more than you made in a whole month. “—a few have been lingering around.”

Azriel raised a brow, golden eyes sliding to the darkness that appeared at your feet, seemingly making themselves smaller behind you. “I had wondered where they went.”

Bare toes pat quietly against glossy floors, the soft satin of your nightgown swishing at your thighs and you don’t bother hiding the way you’re staring at his things; the assortment of weapons hung on the wall near his bed, a book laid flat against the table, a few pages noticeably dog-earred and curiosity spurs. “Aren’t they your shadows? I thought they were supposed to do as you wanted.”

“Usually, yes.” He watches as you slowly stroll about his room, fingers hovering over wooden carvings and daggers purchased purely for display. “But, it seems they’ve taken a certain—interest in you.”

You turn to face him with intent to respond, a smile growing until you see his brows furrow, golden eyes squinting and in three strides he’s before you. You freeze when his hand raises, pushing aside the strands of hair covering your shoulder.

“What happened here?”

You move to pull away, hands flicking at your hair to cover the bruise but the light has already caught it, hazel-eyes finally comprehending the shape—a hand. “Oh, that's nothing." It was superficial, sure to fade in a few days time. "Really, I’m perfectly fine.”

“That doesn’t look fine.” Azriel's polite tone alters, cadence dropping low and cold and the cobalt siphons on his hands glow under the mood change. He's still touching you, undeterred by the feeble attempt to shake him off and he effortlessly brings you in closer, fingers grazing over the injury. "Who did this to you?"

"I don't know."

"Don't lie to me."

Your head shakes twice, hand curling around his wrist and you make no move this time to push him away. Instead, you bask in the warmth of his skin on your own, the casual touch that sent your body into flames regardless of the conversation at hand. He was just so handsome and his room smelled so good and Marco seemed to like him; the slinking ball of onyx fur sprawled out comfortably on the large duvet. "I truly don't know." You mentally curse the shake of your voice but Azriel seems to pick up on the fact that it wasn't due to fear. His gaze bores holes into your face, shifting from male to spy in a matter of seconds; catching the way your eyes dart over to the shadows behind him. "They handled it for me."

Azriel doesn't miss a beat. "Who is they?"

You don't answer, too lost in the warmth of eyes like burning embers and they follow the finger you point behind him. "There were four of them, they came out of my cloak when he grabbed me—“

“You were alone?”

Something unnameable grows inside your belly at his concern, at the fire that blazed behind that gentlemanly disposition; the care at which skilled fingers trace over marks not meant to be on your body. “I was closing up after work. Nesta sent Cassian to get me, I was fine.”

“This is not fine,” He insists, tone low and body poised for a fight; a shadowsinger shifting into a spymaster, one who could kill in ten different ways before you could even fully inhale a breath. The touch of his hand disappears and you hope he doesn’t catch the way your body subconsciously takes a little step closer, chasing the warmth when he walks away, disappearing into a closet.

“I think your shadows felt the same way,” You whisper back, unsure if he’d even heard you but you continue anyway, frozen in place and yearning for time to go back just so you could have a reason to touch his skin once more. “I’m pretty sure they killed him—though I can’t be certain. They wouldn’t let me look.”

That captures his attention; the rustling of items moving around slowing to a halt until his towering frame fills the doorway and his heart clenches when he sees the shadows circling you, twisting around your legs and grazing against your cheeks to comfort. You don’t shy away, leaning into the ghost of a touch as if you hadn’t just admitted they’d possibly committed murder for you.

"I truly don't even know what I would've done if they weren't there."

Azriel's steps are silent when he approaches, a dagger held in his grasp and he presents it to you with more softness than anyone had ever regarded you with. "Take this—and keep them, they seem to like you more than me anyways."

“I couldn’t,” You’re quick to deny, hands raising to object but Az is stubborn. “They’re yours.”

The metal is cool in your palms, the weight new and foreign in your grasp. “They are,” Azriel’s finger reaches for the shadow around your shoulder and unlike the others hovering around his tall frame, these don’t rush to attach to him. They stay close by your side, alert for potential dangers but undeniably comfortable around you. “—but they want you and it would make me feel a lot better knowing you’ll be safe.”

You can smell the mint of his toothpaste, eyes dashing down a second to take in full lips before quickly averting your gaze. “Thank you.” Words don’t feel like enough. “I’m not sure how I could ever repay for your kindness.”

You’re halfway out the door when he answers, Marco hot on your heels and knife safe in its leather holder. “Just promise that every time you’re over, you’ll come looking for me.”

A smile pulls at the corner of your mouth, cheeks going warm. “It’s a deal.”

When you find your way back to Nesta’s room she’s already waiting, two cups of tea steaming hot before her and the book in her grasp is closed without being marked when she hears you enter. She says nothing, grey-blue eyes lighting up with mischief when they catch on the top of your arm and a manicured nail points at the dark ink that swirled there. “I hate to admit it but it suits you.”

You hum, fingers running over the intricate vines looped around like the arm cuff you’d been staring at the first night you’d met the High Lords shadowsinger. “I thought so too.”

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar #azriel x you #a court of mist and fury #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #acowar #send asks #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar azriel #azriel #acotar angst #acotar fic #high lord rhysand #cassian #solbaby7

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parkjayist · 8 months ago

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TFWILY (psh) ONESHOT

sum you're a florist at a small flower shop. while the shop isn't the most popular, you've made connections with many regulars who come by to say hello and buy some flowers. park sunghoon, slightly clumsy, enters the shop and accidentally breaks a vase ... and a friendship blooms from there.

pairing park sunghoon x florist!reader

genre soft love, fluff, strangers2lovers, just two awkward people bonding over their awkwardness

an hope you enjoy it, i'm pretty proud of this one hehe

tagged: @jjongscardigan @nxzz-skz

wc 2.3k

i. TFW i trip in front of a cute florist

in the heart of a lively town, hidden between tall buildings and busy streets, stands a quaint flower shop adorned with colorful plants. you were proud to call this place your own, getting support from family and friends to open a floral shop. although it was difficult to juggle both college and work at the same time, you’ve managed to make some friends at school that helped you run the shop when you weren’t able to. to put it simply – you were content and happy with your current life. you weren’t too lonely, visiting your parents by train every weekend, hanging out with your friends occasionally, and talking to regular customers that came in and out of your shop. you even met your best friend and platonic soulmate, yani, because she happened to stumble across your shop one day. you wouldn’t trade this life for anything else.

“yeah, it was such a weird–” yani stopped mid sentence and looked at the time on her phone. “oh shoot, it’s almost 2pm! i’m almost late for an event. i’ll see you later (___)!” she waved at you as she rushed out of the shop.

you chuckled at her messy state and how she almost tripped over nothing. you decided to get back to arranging a bouquet for a customer, humming a small tune from one of ella fitzergald’s songs. you were so focused on making sure that the bouquet looked visually appealing that you yelped in shock when you heard a loud crashing sound.

you quickly looked up to see a tall man with a distraught look on his face. you followed his eyes to the ground where you saw the disaster he caused – a vase from your mom shattered into pieces.

“oh my …” you rushed over ready to reprimand the man for damaging your property, before you caught a better look at his face.

“i’m so so sorry,” he frantically apologized, his eyes furrowed with sincere worry. “i’ll clean it up immediately … um, i’ll even pay you for the damage … again, i’m so sorry,” he bent down and started quickly picking up the pieces and before you could even stop him, he cut himself on the sharp glass. he let out a quick hiss before trying to wipe off the blood.

“sir … stop, just stop,” you pulled him up. “you must be a very clumsy person … first you knock over my vase and now you hurt yourself!”

the man didn’t even have a chance to respond before you pulled him over to sit down, quickly getting out a small bandaid that had a cute flower on it.

“miss … the broken pieces are still there,” he quietly said.

“it’s fine, i will clean it up myself,” you responded, still focused on disinfecting his cut.

he went silent, watching you gently put the bandaid on. once you were done you looked at him – his face flushed pink at the close distance between your faces. you took note of his beauty marks that complemented his face gracefully.

“a … alright, i’m done. hopefully you don’t mind the bandaid,” you murmured, rushing to clean the shards (and to hide your strawberry face).

as you busied yourself sweeping up the broken pieces of the vase, you stole glances at the mysterious man sitting on the chair. despite your initial impression, there was something intriguing about him. perhaps it was the way his eyes shined with sincerity, or the faint hint of a smile that played on his lips as you tended to his small wound.

“thank you,” he spoke, breaking the awkward silence.

you smiled and hummed in response. once you finished cleaning up the mess, you turned back to him, noticing he was still sitting there, almost as if he didn't want to leave just yet.

"is there anything else i can help you with?" you asked, tilting your head slightly. “did you come here to buy flowers?”

the man hesitated for a moment before shaking his head, “no, i was just curious because i’ve never seen this shop before … i should probably get going.”

you nodded, understanding. "alright then. take care, and watch your step next time," you teased gently, a playful glint in your eyes.

he chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he finally stood up. "i'll keep that in mind. thanks again." with that, he made his way out of the shop, leaving you standing there with a faint smile on your lips.

you stood there, letting his lingering cologne fill your veins before you go back to working – your rants to your friends about this encounter will have to wait.

ii. classroom at noon

as weeks passed, the memory of sunghoon park gradually faded into the background of your bustling life. your days were filled with the usual routines of managing your flower shop, attending classes at university, and spending time with friends and family. yet … there was always a lingering curiosity about the man who had stumbled into your shop that day.

one afternoon, after a particularly long lecture at university, you found yourself making your way to the library, eager to catch up on some reading and maybe even get started on your next assignment. as you entered the quiet sanctuary of books, you couldn't help but feel a sense of calm wash over you.

finding a cozy corner tucked away from the prying eyes of other students, you settled down with your books, stretching and ready to lose yourself in the world of academics. but just as you were about to immerse yourself in your studies, a familiar & deep voice interrupted your thoughts.

"excuse me, is this seat taken?"

you looked up to find none other than the man from a few weeks ago standing before you, a small smile playing on his lips. he looked much more put together – his hair was styled and his outfit fit perfectly with his vibe. surprise flickered across your face before it softened into a warm smile of recognition.

"oh, hi! no, it's not taken. please, have a seat," you replied, gesturing to the empty chair across from you.

he nodded gratefully and took a seat, setting his bag down beside him. "thanks. i hope i'm not intruding in your studies grind.”

"not at all," you assured him, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest at the unexpected reunion. “i didn’t know you were a university student.”

not many people do," sunghoon chuckled, flipping through the pages of his notebook. "i like to keep a low profile."

you nodded, understandingly. "fair enough. what are you studying?"

"business management," he replied, closing the book momentarily to meet your gaze. "and you?"

"botany," you answered, a hint of pride in your voice. "i guess you could say it comes in handy for running a flower shop."

sunghoon's eyes lit up with interest. "that sounds fascinating. i'd love to hear more about it sometime."

for a moment, there was a comfortable silence between you as you both immersed yourselves in your respective studies. but as time passed, you found yourselves stealing glances at each other, a silent curiosity lingering in the air.

finally, unable to resist the urge any longer, sunghoon spoke up. "hey, i never properly introduced myself last time. i'm sunghoon park."

you smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his cute gesture. "nice to officially meet you, sunghoon. i'm (___).”

the conversation flowed effortlessly between you as you both delved into your studies, occasionally sharing snippets of your lives outside of university. hours passed in the blink of an eye, and before you knew it, the sun had begun to set outside the library windows.

as you gathered your things to leave, sunghoon hesitated for a moment before speaking up. "hey, (your name), i was wondering if you'd like to grab coffee with me sometime? you know, as a thank you for letting me share your table today."

a warmth spread through your chest at his invitation, and you couldn't help but smile. "i'd love to."

"great," sunghoon grinned, relief evident in his eyes. "how about this weekend?"

"that sounds perfect," you agreed, exchanging contact information with him.

with plans in place for your coffee date, you bid each other farewell, anticipation bubbling in your chest at the prospect of spending more time with sunghoon outside of the library.

iii. please just stay with me

the day of your coffee date arrived, and as you walked into the café, your heart fluttered with excitement. you scanned the room until your eyes landed on sunghoon, who was already waiting for you at a table near the window. he looked up and flashed you a bright smile as you approached, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth at the sight of him.

"hey," he greeted you, his smile widening as you took a seat across from him.

"hi," you replied, returning his smile. "thanks for meeting me here."

sunghoon nodded, reaching into his bag and pulling out a bouquet of flowers. your favorite flowers, to be exact. you couldn't hide your surprise as he placed them on the table in front of you.

"how did you...?" you started, trailing off as you looked at him in confusion.

sunghoon chuckled softly, scratching the back of his neck. "well, i noticed there was a vase of these flowers on your desk at the shop, so i figured you liked them. i did a little research," he explained, a hint of bashfulness in his tone. "are you proud of me?"

you felt your cheeks heat up at his words, but you couldn't help but smile. "yes, i'm very proud of you. thank you, sunghoon."

the rest of the coffee date passed in a blur of laughter and easy conversation. after you finished your drinks, sunghoon suggested going for a walk, and you eagerly agreed. as you strolled along the quiet streets, the atmosphere between you was a mix of excitement and nervousness. you both kept stealing glances at each other, your hands occasionally brushing against one another. each accidental touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation building in the air.

eventually, sunghoon's hand brushed over yours, and this time, neither of you pulled away. instead, you intertwined your fingers with his, your heart pounding in your chest as you shared a shy smile. awkwardness filled the air, but it was a sweet kind of awkwardness, the kind that came with the excitement of new love.

"you look radiant today," he began, his voice soft but sincere. "not that you aren't always beautiful, but today... you're truly glowing. like, back when i saw you in that flower shop, it just felt right– you belong there. you have this aura, this… this flower aura."

his sincere words caught you off guard, and you felt a rush of warmth spread through you. "flower aura?" you repeated, unable to hide the amusement in your voice.

"yeah," he continued, his cheeks tinted with a hint of pink. "it's like... you're surrounded by this natural beauty, and it's captivating."

your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn't help but smile. "well, in that case, you're like a prince charming, sweeping me off my feet with your compliments."

sunghoon's smile widened at your response, his eyes sparkling with affection. "i'm just speaking the truth," he said earnestly. "you really are something special."

and with that, the awkwardness between you dissolved, replaced by a newfound sense of closeness and understanding. you continued your walk, hand in hand – you felt something new blooming in you.

iv. that feeling when i love you

as you stood behind the counter of your flower shop, lost in the delicate dance of arranging petals and stems, the familiar chime of the door announced the arrival of someone special. you looked up, and your heart skipped a beat as you saw sunghoon walking in, a warm smile lighting up his face, his fangs poking out. excitement bubbled within you, and without hesitation, you set aside your work and hurried over to him, enveloping him in a tight embrace.

"hey pretty," he greeted you, his voice soft with affection as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

a wave of warmth washed over you at his gesture, and you couldn't help but smile up at him, suddenly feeling grateful for his presence.

"hi handsome," you replied, your voice filled with love as you rested your cheek on his chest.

“baby, i was thinking... would you like to go on a date with me?" he asked, his eyes shining with anticipation. "there's a flower garden event being hosted at the nearby park, and i know how much you love flowers. i thought it would be the perfect way to spend the evening together."

your heartbeat soared at his thoughtful suggestion. "that sounds wonderful," you replied, a smile spreading across your lips. "i'd absolutely love to."

sunghoon's face lit up with pure joy, his eyes glittering with delight. but then, as if realizing the weight of the moment, he suddenly seemed flustered and unsure, his cheeks and ears turning a bright shade of red.

"um, yeah, great!" he stuttered, his voice a bit shaky. "i'll… uh, i'll swing by after you close up shop. can't have my girl seeing me like this."

your heart melted at his adorable nervousness, and you couldn't help but giggle at his sweet attempt to play it cool.

"sure thing," you said, trying to contain your own excitement. "i'll be waiting.”

with that, sunghoon bid you a slightly clumsy goodbye, almost tripping over the steps of the shop. had he not learned his lesson from last time, this would’ve been deja vu. you let out a laugh at his clumsiness, and he looked back at you, his smile a mix of excitement and embarrassment as he hurried out of the shop.

you watched him go, feeling a surge of affection for the endearing man who had captured your heart simply by breaking a vase.

masterlist

#parkjayist #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #park sunghoon fic #park sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon oneshot #enhypen oneshot #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios

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creepswrites · 1 year ago

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MEAT PIES (Thomas x Reader)

as a result of the poll i made, here is a lil something with Thomas Hewitt! also, this is sort of in celebration of 500 followers so thank you so much for that!! :D

Thomas Hewitt x gn!Reader (they/them)

Summary: You nodded and slipped out of the kitchen, hearing Luda May call the directions to you. Down the hall, first door on the left. Easy. The door in question was underneath a large staircase that led upstairs from the entry foyer. As you reached to open it, your hand froze on the doorknob. The sound of a revving chainsaw and screaming could be heard just beyond the door.

WARNING: 18+, violence, murder, c/nnibalism

Living in Travis County was becoming more and more difficult, particularly in Fuller. There were whispers around town that the meat processing plant had gone bad. The latest drought had caused illness in the cattle but the plant did nothing about it, continuing work as expected.

Those whispers had reached your ears almost immediately. Fuller was a relatively small town as is and the sick meat would be bad for your business.

Currently, you ran a little corner store making and selling various baked goods, though your little meat pies were especially good. Despite the town's size, you had various customers come in almost every day. When you'd first moved to town about two years ago, many of the older residents had turned up their noses when you'd continued to work on Sundays, not being particularly religious yourself.

Their attitudes quickly changed once they got a taste of your baking though.

You made various things as well, from cakes to breads to cookies. There was little you couldn't make. In summer, you'd whip up vanilla ice creams with apple cobblers and in winter you'd make warm honey and vanilla cakes. The town couldn't get enough of it.

Today was a warm day, as were most days in Texas. You'd just finished cleaning up one of the tables when you heard someone come inside. "Be right with you!" You called over your shoulder as you finished wiping down the table with a disinfectant wet wipe.

When you spun around, you smiled at a familiar face. "Hey Mrs Hewitt, how can I help ya?"

Luda May Hewitt was a regular of yours, always paying you generously to bring home some of your cakes and plates of cookies. She bought more than any other customer but you certainly weren't complaining. Sometimes she'd bring you some of her own family recipes for you to try, always looking proud when they came out a success.

You were always respectful to her, which you could tell she also appreciated. "Just here for the usual, dear." Luda May smiled at you.

With a quick nod, you slipped back behind the counter and began collecting chocolate clip cookies into a paper bag. "Did somethin' a lil different with 'em this week." You gave the old woman a secret smile. "Added a bit more salt to this batch, so let me know what ya think!"

"Ooo!" Luda May smiled. "I'm sure they'll be delicious as always. My Tommy's such a big fan of your bakin' you know."

You looked up at her, giving her a raised eyebrow. "Tommy?"

She nodded. "He works at the meat plant. Walks by your lil store every day on his way to work but he's too shy to come in, poor dear."

"I hope I don't scare him," you laughed good-naturedly as you sealed up the bag before collecting a dozen cupcakes into a paper tray. "He's welcome to come in if he wants! Can make him a hot chocolate if he shows up before openin.'"

Luda May gave you a fond look. "You're such a darlin,' don't know what angel sent ya to Fuller but I know the whole town's grateful." She paused, fidgeting with her fingers. "You heard 'bout the plant, right?" Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke.

You nodded at her, leaning closer over the counter like the two of you were sharing a dark secret over the little cakes and cookies. "Yeah, heard the meat was bad."

"Not just bad, dear." Luda May frowned. "Been stomach infections all over the country 'cause of the spoiled meat. A health inspectors comin' out this week to see."

A soft gasp left your lips and Luda May nodded sadly. "I mean... is the plant-?"

Luda May gave a wistful smile. "You've heard the rumors. I'm sure you've seen the families movin' out of Fuller this past month. Everyone's already cut their losses an' moved on."

You frowned, crossing your arms over your cool counter as the old woman opened her purse to pull out coins and bills to pay you. "What're you gonna do?" You asked her, chewing on your lip.

She looked at you with a soft look. "Don't you go worryin' about an old woman like me. I ain't last this long on pillows and cotton." She teased you, making you smile slightly. "I got my boys to look after me. We got a farm out in the country, we'll get by. I still got my job at the community center, for now."

As she slid the money across the counter and took the two bags of sweets, you gave her a polite wave. "Let me know if I can help somehow, yeah?"

Luda May just gave you a smile as she left, leaving you alone in the empty store as the bell of the door echoed emptily. You just hoped her family would be okay.

The Hewitts were a fairly reserved family but were the heart of the little community. Luda May and Charlie had a strong presence in the town and, despite the sheriff's best attempts, the town looked to the Hewitt family for advice. So you'd heard of Thomas Hewitt - Luda May's son who, according to rumors, was mentally challenged and physically disabled. You'd never met him but you'd heard stories.

You finally got to meet him just a few days after Luda May's visit.

It was early in the morning and you'd barely gotten dressed when you padded downstairs in socked feet to your little shop. You lived above the store in a small, one room apartment. It was convenient though!

A knock on the glass door confused your still-sleepy brain. You crept towards the door, unlocked it, and opened it. An enormous man stood there, staring at you with surprise. His hair was long, messy and matted, and he wore a mask over his mouth that obscured a lot of his face. You opened and closed your mouth for a minute before managing to choke out a few words. "Thomas, right?"

He nodded and you felt yourself smile. "Luda May told me 'boutcha! C'mon in," you stepped aside and shuffled back towards your coffee machine. You heard Thomas enter slowly, shutting the door carefully behind him. "You want coffee?" You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.

Thomas looked dirty, the apron he wore stained with blood. If he didn't work at the meat plant, you would've been more alarmed. He just stared at you, unblinking. "Hot chocolate?" You tried, earning a quick nod. "Comin' right up!" You gave him a bright smile as you set about making coffee for yourself and hot chocolate for your guest.

"Luda May says you walk by my shop a lot." You hummed as you worked. "You're allowed to come in, y'know? I ain't gonna run you off."

Thomas was silent still. You got the feeling he didn't talk much. So you went into the back room as drinks brewed and opened one of your storage boxes. Despite the dusty, rough nature of the rest of the town, you prided yourself on keeping things clean and tidy. So you grabbed two cinnamon rolls and went to reheat them in the little oven.

All the while, you felt eyes on you. For some reason, you got a heavy feeling in your stomach but you pushed it down. He was strange, not dangerous.

You slid the man a mug of hot chocolate and a warm cinnamon roll across your countertop with a smile. "Yer always welcome here."

To be polite, you turned your back to him as you drank your coffee to let him take off the mask he wore to eat better. The two of you enjoyed breakfast in relative silence until, without much fanfare, Thomas stepped away from the counter and slipped out the front door, back into the Texas heat.

He was strange, without a doubt, but he meant well. It was clear Luda May adored him so he must just really be shy with strangers. You'd start stocking up more hot chocolate, despite it being summer, for if Thomas ever visited you again.

And, later that very afternoon, hundreds of men were seen leaving the meat plant. It was shut down for good by the health inspector. You watched from your windows as the angry men stormed home, yelling in protest and anger with each other.

You didn't see Thomas in the crowds though. You hoped he was okay...

With the meat plant shut down, life in Fuller came to a complete stop. Where once it had been difficult, it was now near impossible to continue living there. At least 85% of the town moved away by the end of the month, abandoning their properties or selling them. The town, effectively, shut down in a matter of weeks.

But you remained.

You didn't have anywhere to go or the means to leave. Selling the property was an option but where would you even go? You didn't exactly have a means of moving. Your little car couldn't hold all your possessions and getting a moving company to help was ridiculously expensive...

You felt trapped.

Luda May visited you late one afternoon, a sad smile on her face. "Hello dear." She said softly, the overhead bell ringing to announce her arrival.

Glancing up from the catalogue you were browsing, you smiled back. "Hey Mrs Hewitt. How can I help ya?"

She made her way up to your counter, looking down at the catalogue before looking back up at you. "The Jamisons moved away." She said softly. Your eyes widened and you straightened up. "Just this afternoon." Her voice was shaky as you reached over to hold her hands.

"I'm so sorry..." Your voice was soft as the old woman looked close to collapsing. "I know how close they were with the town, I-"

Luda May held your hands back tight. "It's been so hard, havin' everyone move away just like that. Like this town ain't worth nothin' without the meat plant." She grit her teeth against a wet sob. "My Tommy ain't got no place to work an' we- we can't leave. But if everyone else goes, what'll happen to us? What'll we do?"

You let go of Luda May long enough to slide over your counter to hug her. "I'm so sorry. I- I wish there was something I could do to help..."

She held you tight as she let herself sob. You swayed with her for a moment, trying your best to console her. "Ain't nowhere left to work in this town. We can't survive on pennies from my community center job, sweetheart. It's gettin' too hard." Luda May wept.

You felt for her, truly. "If there's anything I can do, please let me know. You an' your family have done so much for me, for the town. Least I can do is repay the favor."

Luda May pulled back slightly, wiping her cheeks. "You're too good for this world. Certainly the Lord blessed us when he sent you to this town." She sniffed once, straightening up and adjusting her glasses. "You should come on by for dinner tonight. We got guests comin' over an' I think you'd fit right in."

"Oh!" You perked up, smiling at her. "I'd love to! I've got this pie recipe I've been meanin' to try out, I think y'all will love it."

Luda May smiled and nodded along. "I got two hours left in my shift at the community center. I'll come on by and getcha after, alright?"

You nodded excitedly. "I'll get cleaned up. Thank you, I'm honored to be invited along!"

When you turned to hurry up the stairs to your little apartment, you missed the way Luda May's smile faded away. Her heart ached with remorse for what she was sentencing you to.

As she left the store, she cried silent tears for the betrayal she was about to give you.

But, as promised, Luda May came to pick you up just as the sun was going down. You'd gotten cleaned up, dressed nice in light clothing to protect yourself against the hot Texas afternoon. An airy, white and blue striped shirt with the collar pressed nicely alongside matching navy blue shorts. The boots you wore were simple and the cleanest shoes you owned.

When Luda May spotted you, smiling and waving at her as you clutched a wicker basket in your hands, she almost told you the truth. Almost made up a lie to keep you from coming over, to save you from the fate that Charlie - Hoyt, he'd insisted now - would surely sentence you to. But he'd been right. The family needed to eat.

She just wished you'd left town earlier. Packed up your cute little things into neat, nice boxes and left this shithole of a town. But no. You'd stayed because you were sweet. And you trusted her. Which only made her feel worse about putting you into this situation.

You, who had only ever been so kind and loving to her, her family, Tommy...

But she didn't say or do anything. She just smiled as you got into her old truck and drove you down the old, dirt road towards the Hewitt house. The old blue truck rattled but you were polite and didn't say a thing. You were too good for this world, in Luda May's eyes.

Maybe, just maybe, there could be a way to save you still.

The Hewitt farm was much bigger than you imagined. The large, manor-like house lay surrounded by various barns, cattle pens, and a nearby junkyard. You didn't let it show on your face but the whole place felt... Dirty.

Like dirt caked every surface, even lightly. As though if you were to drag your fingers across anything, you'd find layers of dirt and dust left on the tips of your fingers. You suppressed a shudder as Luda May left her truck, shutting the door rather loudly. You were quick to follow her up to the big house, stumbling slightly as you hurried.

"Now, be wary of the boys. They tend to be a bit rowdy this late in the day. Once dinner rolls 'round they'll settle. If any of them give you trouble, you come straight to me." Luda May said as you approached the door.

You gave her a quick nod. "Yes ma'am."

The smile she gave you was fond but it was also... something else.

Before you could figure out what, you heard a scream. Your heart lept to your throat but Luda May took your hand in hers and squeezed. "The boys play rough. They're alright, dear." She gave you a warm look. "Lets just get inside 'n outta this heat."

You obeyed, swallowing down a sick feeling you had rising in your stomach.

The inside of the house was. Messy, to say the least. But, you had to remind yourself to be polite as you were guided from the foyer to the kitchen. Some dishes lay in the sink, making Luda May curse. "Monty!" She called somewhere into the house. "Next time ya fuckin' leave dishes in the sink, I'm havin' Tommy throw your damn truck out!"

You blinked back in shock. You'd never heard her talk like that.

A man, who you could only assume was Monty, poked his head into the kitchen. "God damn woman, ain't my job to clean the place!"

Luda May scoffed. "I pride myself on runnin' a clean house. You start undoin' my hard work an' you can sleep in the barn with the other stupid animals!" She let out a loud huff. "Where's Tommy anyway?"

Monty shrugged. "Ain't seen 'im. Might be downstairs." He looked you up and down, over and over. The gesture made you feel dirty. "You can go look for 'im while I entertain our, uh, guest."

"Absolutely not." Luda May said, scrubbing a plate with a brush. "They're my guest, you an' Charlie can keep your dirty hands off. They're the sweet baker from down the road who makes those sweets y'all like so much."

He raised his eyebrows. "Are they now? Well I'll be damned."

You flushed under all the attention, fidgeting nervously with the basket in your hands and deciding to just set in on the counter nearby Luda May. "I could, um, go find Thomas. If- if you wanted?"

Anything to get away from Monty's leering eyes.

Luda May nodded to you. "He should be down in the basement workin'. Don't mind if he doesn't hear ya, you can shout."

You nodded and slipped out of the kitchen, hearing Luda May call the directions to you. Down the hall, first door on the left. Easy. The door in question was underneath a large staircase that led upstairs from the entry foyer. As you reached to open it, your hand froze on the doorknob. The sound of a revving chainsaw and screaming could be heard just beyond the door.

The sounds of heavy footsteps on the staircase above made your stomach swoop and you quickly opened the door and slipped inside. Your breath caught in your throat as the sounds got quieter, the screams turning to gurgles and the chainsaw dying down. Fearing the worst, you were silent on the rickety, old, wooden steps that went down into the darkness of the basement.

You held your breath as you neared the bottom, looking out into the dimly lit room.

Ice-hot fear shot through you at the sight. Thomas, standing over a man's body that was strapped to a table. The chainsaw he'd used lay on a bench beside the table as he appeared to be skinning the eviscerated man laying before him.

Thomas looked up at you and you slapped your hand over your mouth to cover your gasp. Tears filled your eyes as you scrambled back up the stairs, utterly terrified. You tore open the front door and took off running, only going faster when you heard Thomas chasing you.

But he knew the land better than you.

Eventually, through all your running and hiding, you found yourself cornered in one of the large, dusty barns. The ceiling and walls were wooden and the floor was just loose dirt. You whimpered when you saw Thomas's shadow approach you, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He stood in the open doorway, meat cleaver in hand as he stared at you. You backed up until you hit the wall but Thomas kept approaching you. "Are you going to hurt me?" You choked through a sob.

Thomas froze and just stared at you. You could tell your question had surprised him but he was quick to recover. He nodded. You felt your heart sink as you slid down to the dirt floor, curling up on yourself.

You sat there, curled up in the fetal position, and began to cry openly. Thomas made a soft grunt but you couldn't hear, too busy crying. You didn't want to die, much less at Thomas's hand. He'd always seemed nice, if a bit intimidating, but you thought he and Luda May were good people.

The memory of the basement flashed in your head and you blinked up at Thomas with wet, red-rimmed eyes. He seemed to deflate then, sitting down criss-crossed in front of you, careful to keep his distance. He set the cleaver down and put his hands in his lap and just watched you.

You sniffed. "Can... can you at least do it quick?"

Thomas looked guilty as he made a grumbling noise. You wished, momentarily, he could talk to you. At least then maybe he'd tell you what he was planning to do to you. Instead, he surprised you by picking up the cleaver and tossing it further away before looking expectantly back at you.

You blinked. "You're... you're not going to hurt me?"

Thomas shook his head.

"Are..." You swallowed a thick lump that had been lodged in your throat. "Are the others...?"

That made Thomas pause. With a thoughtful look, he shook his head once before holding out his hand to you. Slowly, like you were reaching for a dog that might bite your hand off if you were too fast, you slid your hand into his.

The size difference was considerable. His hand was at least a quarter size bigger than yours, if not more, and it was rough. You knew he'd worked at the meat plant cutting up meat so of course he'd have workers hands. He gingerly ran his thumb along the back of your hand, trying to reassure you.

"You won't... let them hurt me, right?" You asked, voice low.

He nodded his head, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. Whatever had changed his mind about hurting you, you weren't willing to question it. "Okay." You said softly, letting Thomas help you stand up. Your clothes were covered in dirt but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Though you did almost retch when you saw the blood on his apron.

"Tommy, where'd you-" Luda May called out, freezing when she saw you with Thomas. He still hadn't let go of your hand as he stepped in front of you with a pleading sound. Luda May's shoulders seemed to sag. "I'm sorry, dear." She looked at you with a remorseful look. "I... I was hopin' to keep you from findin' out. Charlie's been... persistent 'bout gettin' food for the family an' I had no choice."

Your mind slowly caught up to what she was saying. "You... you brought me here to... to be killed and eaten?!" Tears began falling again, streaking down your dirt-covered cheeks.

Thomas squeezed your hand again and you felt like throwing up. Luda May didn't say anything as she looked to Thomas. "Charlie'll be angry to know you're keepin' them alive. Are you sure about this?"

He nodded once, still standing protectively in front of you. As terrified as you were - of both Thomas and the entire concept of being made into dinner - you felt a bit reassured that he was set on not hurting you.

Luda May sighed quietly. "Alright. Dinner'll be ready soon. Proper meat." She shot you a reassuring look. "You two get cleaned up. Charlie'll be back soon."

Thomas tugged your hand gently, looking down at you and asking you to follow. He guided you to walk ahead of him, gently pushing you along after Luda May. You glanced over your shoulder as you walked to spot Thomas picking the cleaver back up. When he noticed your alarmed look, he quickly put it behind his back with wide eyes.

You almost laughed at the hysterical nature of it all. You were being invited to dinner - which you nearly became - and the guy who was going to butcher you was hiding the cleaver so you wouldn't be scared of him. Like you were a kid who had no object permanence.

Thomas genuinely did not want to scare you. You knew that. It didn't make you any less terrified though.

Charlie Hewitt - or Sheriff Hoyt as he was calling himself now, as you were terrified to learn he'd also killed - was currently having a fit.

When you'd come downstairs having mostly cleaned off in the bathroom, he'd spotted you quickly. When Luda May informed him you were a friend of Thomas's and definitely not dinner, he'd been enraged. He'd started throwing things around the house, yelling at Luda May and Thomas, who both stood strong. "I asked ya to find somethin' for dinner and ya bring back nothing? Just some sad lookin' baker kid who ain't worth jack?!"

Luda May glared. "You give em any trouble, I'll beat ya black and blue and make ya sleep outside, ya hear? I ain't puttin' up with your shit tonight, Charlie."

"Hoyt, it's Hoyt now!" He yelled back, smashing a plate.

"Every dish you break, you buy a new one!" Luda May yelled, smacking his arm hard.

Hoyt's eyes fell on you as he glared. When he moved forward to grab you, Thomas was quick to interfere. You ducked behind his arm as he stood between you and Hoyt. "Thomas. Move." Hoyt snarled.

But Thomas didn't budge. In fact, he looked surprised as he looked down at you clinging to his forearm, terrified out of your mind. While you were scared of everyone in the room, Thomas was the most likely to defend you and defend you hard. The cleaver he'd been carrying was laying out on the table and, while you'd known Luda May longer, you doubted she'd be able to use it against Hoyt if he came closer.

"I won't ask you again, boy," Hoyt snarled. Thomas calmly lifted Hoyt up by the collar of his shirt and threw him aside, sending the man crashing into the table with a hard tumble.

Luda May spoke up then. "That's enough!" She snapped at both Hoyt and Thomas. "You two clean up this mess."

Hoyt glared over at her. "We look after family. They," he pointed a finger at you as he stood, "ain't family."

You shared a nervous look with Luda May, who remained steady. "They may as well be. Far as I'm concerned, they're the only one who provided food for dinner tonight." She glared down at Hoyt. "While you were runnin' around playin' dress up."

Hoyt was quiet. "What'd they bring?"

"Meat pies." You said quietly. When Hoyt looked at you, you repeated yourself louder, fearing his anger. "I brought meat pies. L-lamb ones."

The room was silent. "Ya brought lamb pot pies?" Hoyt asked slowly, raising an eyebrow. You nodded frantically and he sighed. "Alright, fine, ya can stay." He grumbled, leaving the room with a huff.

You looked up at Thomas with nervous eyes. The mask he wore obscured a lot of his face but you could see his eyes. He blinked slowly, a softness there you were surprised by.

Clutching his arm tighter, you let yourself relax as Thomas stood protectively beside you. You could survive this, you thought to yourself.

You will survive this.

#🔪 creeps writes #slasher fanfiction #slasher x reader #the texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw the beginning #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #the hewitt family

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haruharuz · 1 year ago

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Episode #01 / ??

Is life fucking you with a cactus? Do you not know where the fuck to start with getting your shit together? Join the club. I've failed probably a hundred different types of challenges and life transformations. Doing so has taught me exactly how to get my shit together over the years.

The tasks are random and customized to my personal experiences, you can add or remove whatever doesn't fit your lifestyle. I have added detailed instructions or links for those that need help with knowing exactly what to do. There is no "Start date" or "end date" you just do what tasks fit into your lifestyle. These things don't even have to be done on the same day.

TASK LIST #001:

-> Clean The Kitchen Sink & Counters: Wash any dishes or place them in the dishwasher, get a rag or sponge & a toothbrush you don't need, take dish soap or disinfectant multi-surface cleaner (i used pine sol) and scrub the sink. Take the toothbrush and get any small areas (especially behind the sink and faucet) with it. Rinse the rag and wipe it down. Remove any trash / random items from the counters and use a rag with soap to wipe down. Try to get underneath the microwave/whatever else if you can. Any items that were on the counters, find a home for them or place them back on the counter where they belong.

-> At-Home Gel / Polish / Whatever Pedicure : Go on youtube or tiktok and find the instructions for whatever supplies you have.

-> Clean your bathroom drawers and counters: Start with the counter, remove anything unnecessary and throw away any trash. Use a spray cleaner or disinfectant cleaner and a rag/sponge. Scrub the grime off from the sink and use the toothbrush you had earlier to get any nitty gritty areas. Then, open your bathroom drawers and have a small bag (grocery bag, trash bag) near. Look at each item and decide whether you need/want it or not. Throw anything that is expired away, find a place for everything that makes sense. You can optionally wipe the inside of the drawers with disinfectant if you'd like.

-> Buy floss / floss picks / water flosser and place it somewhere VISIBLE . Floss before you brush your teeth that night.

-> Create a Meal Plan / Grocery Plan: Look on youtube, tiktok, or whatever you'd like and find some easy meals you know you can reliably make and eat even on a bad day. When you go grocery shopping, make sure to have at least two kinds of fruit, some veggies, and something that is insanely easy to eat. I have frozen burritos in my fridge right now, they may not be the "healthiest" but it doesn't matter. Start the change today not tomorrow and keep that mindset in your head. It doesn't matter if the change is literally just that you ate an apple today. Make that change now.

#unfuck your life #harusclass #motivation #life improvement #mindset #self improvement #personal growth #self work #self help #self growth #self worth #self healing

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sleekervae · 3 months ago

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New York Romantic [1.3]

Masterlist

pairing: Tom Blyth x ballerina!oc

summary: a first date

word count: 2,595

taglist: @watercolorskyy @carolanns-world @alana4610

Frames Bowling Alley was always packed on a Friday night, all in spite of the greasy pizza and Arnie trying to failing to make small chat with the customers. Neon signs flickered intermittently, casting a colorful glow over the lanes, while the low hum of chatter and the satisfying clatter of pins created a lively soundtrack for the evening. The air was thick with the scent of pizza and the faint, lingering aroma of bowling shoe disinfectant.

Tom and Noelle sat at their assigned lane, sharing a large pepperoni pizza and two sodas. The mismatched, slightly sticky plastic chairs they occupied only added to the quirky charm of the place. Tom took a bite of his slice, the cheese stretching comically before snapping back, making Noelle chuckle. He wiped a bit of sauce from his lip and smiled, a little embarrassed.

Noelle reached for her own slice, her eyes never leaving his face. “How’s the pizza?” she asked, a smirk playing on her lips.

He nodded, swallowing quickly, “Cheesy. But good,” he admitted, wiping a stray bit of sauce from he chin, “Better than I expected,”

Noelle chuckled, the sound low and warm, “Glad to hear it,” she took a sip of her soda, the fizz tickling her nose.

They exchanged glances, both unsure of what to say next but basking in the simple joy of each other's company. Tom’s fingers drummed lightly on the table, and Noelle's eyes darted to his, catching a glimpse of the nervous excitement mirrored in his expression. The retro neon lights flickered overhead, casting a soft glow on their faces. Tom opened his mouth, hesitated, and then finally broke the silence with a sheepish grin.

"So... shall we?" he asked, his voice a touch uncertain.

Noelle's smile widened, a blush creeping up her cheeks, “After you,” she said, the tension within in her melting as she tried to match his enthusiasm.

Tom stood and picked up his bright green bowling ball, feeling its reassuring weight in his hands, "Ready to see some expert moves?" he teased, his tone light but his eyes betraying a hint of nervousness. He didn't want to mess up in front of her.

Noelle leaned back, sipping her soda, "I'm dying to be amazed," she replied with a playful grin, her legs swinging slightly under the table.

Tom approached the lane, his movements deliberate and focused. He swung the ball with a smooth motion, sending it rolling down the polished wood. It curved perfectly, striking the pins with a satisfying crash. Seven pins went down, and he turned back to her with a triumphant smile.

"Not bad," Noelle admitted, clapping lightly. "But let’s see if you can keep it up,"

Tom’s cheeks flushed slightly, his smile widening. "Your turn."

Noelle grabbed her own ball, a bright pink one of course. She stood up, brushing some imaginary dust off her skirt, and took a deep breath. She realized at some point that despite her employee's discount, she didn't really bowl much, so she hoped she could pull herself together. Approaching the lane, she swung the ball with a bit of flair, sending it spiralling down. It veered slightly to the left, knocking down five pins. She turned to Tom with a mock-serious expression, "Okay. Well clearly, I need to up my game,"

Tom simpered back, crossing his arms as he settled into his chair. Jordan's advice echoed in his head, and he couldn't help but offer, "Well, I could give you a few pointers, if you want...?"

Noelle's lips curved into a playful smile, "I might just take you up on that..."

They alternated turns, each play filled with playful banter and lighthearted teasing. Between rounds, they chatted over their pizza, discussing everything from the latest movies to whatever they had planned for the summer. Tom found himself relaxing more with each passing minute, the initial nerves giving way to genuine enjoyment.

At one point, Noelle's ball rolled straight into the gutter, and she threw her hands up in mock exasperation, "Alright, alright! I admit defeat!" she laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

Tom shook his head, his own laughter bubbling up, "No way, we're just getting started. Besides, I think you're going easy on me,"

Noelle gave him a mischievous smile, "Suuuure... let's go with that,"

As the night went on, the bowling alley seemed to fade into the background. The old, dusty vibe of the place felt cozy and intimate, like they were in their own little world. The excitement and nervousness between them blended into something warm and comfortable.

Tom couldn’t help but steal glances at Noelle, watching her laugh and enjoy herself. There was something about the way she lit up the room that made his heart race. He leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his soda, and caught her eye. She was so damn beautiful, so perfectly sweet, and she was all here just for him.

Across the counter, Arnie’s eyes flicked between the old, scuffed-up lanes and the joyful pair in the corner. He wasn’t the type to get involved in his employees' lives, their dreams, or their dramas—most days, he barely gave them a second thought. But tonight, something about Noelle's laughter and Tom's easy grin pulled at him. For once, the grizzled alley owner’s usual scowl softened into a faint, genuine smile. It was a rare moment of warmth breaking through his rough exterior. Even when the next batch of rowdy teenagers stormed in, demanding shoes with a mix of teenage angst and questionable hygiene, Arnie barely flinched. Instead, he found himself strangely content, watching this simple scene of joy. In a place that usually buzzed with petty grievances and complaints, the sight of Noelle and Tom's easy camaraderie was a quiet, welcome escape.

His escape came to an abrupt end however when he spotted a flash of bright neon green in the corner of his eye, and it certainly wasn't from the signage. A customer had walked in with a parrot on his shoulder.

"Sir! No birds allowed in here!" he hollered at him.

The customer, visibly taken aback by such a call-out, replied, "Why the heck not? He's not hurting anyone!"

"Oh yeah? He's hurting my health code mandates! When you open your own bowling alley, then you can argue with the city!!" Arnie called back, "Now get 'im outta' here!"

The city lights of Manhattan twinkled like scattered stars as Tom and Noelle strolled side by side, the air buzzing with the hum of summer nightlife. The warmth of their buzz still lingered from the bowling alley, mingling with the crisp evening breeze. They wandered aimlessly, the clatter of the street slowly fading into a more intimate background of muted city sounds, with hands joined between them.

“So, you still haven't told me what this movie is about,” Noelle noted, her voice light but her gaze curious.

Tom’s face brightened with a mix of excitement and modesty, “It’s a quirky little project about these two guys -- Scott and Sid -- who are just fed up with their lives going no where and everybody telling them that they're going nowhere. So, they decide to do something about it,” he chuckled sheepishly, "I'm sorry -- that description was rank. I could'a done way better,"

“It's okay!” Noelle assured, nudging him playfully with her shoulder. “I'm sure it's great. And I'm very excited to see it when it comes out,”

Tom chuckled, glancing sideways at her. “Thanks. I’m really looking forward to it, though I’m sure I’ll miss this—” he gestured to the city around them “—and you,”

Noelle’s smile softened, a touch of melancholy in her eyes, “I’ll miss you too. It’s going to be strange not seeing you around. But it’s only for the summer, right? You’ll be back before we know it.”

“Yeah,” Tom agreed, though his tone held a trace of hesitation. “I’m not sure how I’m going to manage without you. This summer is going to feel... incomplete.”

As they walked, Noelle’s gaze caught on a lamppost ahead, its warm glow inviting. An idea bubbled up inside her, perhaps it was the nervous energy she had to expel, but she couldn’t help but act on it. “I've always loved the summer” she said, her voice brightening. She reached the lamppost and grabbed it, spinning around it with a laugh, “Especially here -- it's just like nothing else. I mean, yeah — the heat is crazy. But there's just so much to do and the days are just so much longer --”

She was so caught up in the thrill of the spin that she didn’t see Tom’s approach until she collided with his chest, the impact sending a jolt through both of them. They paused, their laughter mixing together in the night air.

Tom’s hands instinctively rested on her waist, steadying her. The world around them seemed to hush, the moment cocooning them in a bubble of their own.

“You okay there?” Tom asked, his eyes crinkling with amusement and warmth.

Noelle looked up at him, her face flushed with both the spin and the closeness. “Definitely,” she whispered, her eyes locking onto his.

Their breaths mingled in the chilly night air, and the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them. Noelle looked up at Tom, her eyes wide with surprise and something softer -- a silent, pleading hope, perhaps.

Tom’s gaze fell to her lips, and he could feel the warmth of her body pressed against his. The city lights flickered around them, but all he could focus on was the fluttering of his heart.

Well, it was either now or never...

Slowly, almost tentatively, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers. The kiss was gentle at first, a tender exploration of newfound closeness. As he deepened the kiss, his fingers curled more firmly around her waist, pulling her even closer. Noelle’s hands found their way to his neck, holding him steady as their lips moved together, savoring the sweet intimacy of the moment.

It was different from the fall, when their kiss had come down to a childish dare. Now, there were no jeers or whispers in the background, no alcohol-fuelled bravado, no eyes scrutinizing their every move. This kiss was just for them, raw and unfiltered, as if the world had narrowed down to the space between their lips. Tom felt the kiss steal his breath away, but he welcomed the sensation with open arms.

He marveled at how much he had yearned for this, how it felt like a culmination of all the moments leading up to now. Every missed chance and tentative touch had led to this—this pure, unguarded exchange. How grateful he was that Noelle had taken a chance on him, that he had finally found the courage to take a chance on himself.

When they finally pulled apart, Tom’s fingers lingered on Noelle’s waist, his breath uneven, as though he was trying to catch up with the whirlwind of feelings. Her lips were still tingling from the kiss, her cheeks flushed a deep rose that contrasted with the cool night air. They stood there, eyes locked, each trying to decode the unspoken words that danced between them.

Around them, the city continued its relentless rhythm—distant car horns, the murmur of late-night chatter—but for those precious seconds, everything else seemed to blur and fade. It was as if they were suspended in a cocoon of their own making, the world outside reduced to a soft hum that barely registered. Tom could see the flicker of something deep in Noelle’s eyes—something he could only describe as a mix of surprise and joy, a reflection of his own emotions mirrored back at him.

Noelle’s smile was soft, almost shy, yet her eyes sparkled with an undeniable promise. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, a silent acknowledgment of her adoration for him. Tom’s heart pounded in his chest, every beat echoing the shared excitement between them.

The reality of the bustling city around them slipped away, leaving only the warmth of their shared moment. Tom could feel the gentle rise and fall of Noelle’s breathing, the way her body leaned into his, fitting perfectly against him. The night carried on, but in their secluded pocket of time, it felt like they had crafted a small eternity just for the two of them.

The night couldn’t end without a croissant—not if you asked Tom, anyway. They walked by NY Bakery and Dessert, the warm glow from the shop’s windows casting a cozy light onto the sidewalk.As they stepped inside, the chatter of the bakery and the sight of glistening pastries on display added a touch of magic to their evening. Nabbing two window seats, between them was a plated slice of New York Cheesecake, drizzled with a sugary strawberry topping, and a buttery, crispy plain croissant with raspberry jam on the side.

"You wanna' know something crazy?" Noelle asked, tentatively poking her cheesecake with a plastic fork.

"Tell me," Tom nodded.

“I haven’t been on a date since 2014,” she said, her voice softening with a hint of vulnerability.

Tom raised an eyebrow, his plastic knife now smeared with jam as he watched her. “What about Daniel?” he asked,

She simpered, "Sorry -- lemme' rephrase: I haven't been on an enjoyable date since 2014,"

“Does that mean you’re having fun tonight?”

“More than I have in a while,” she smiled, the warmth in her eyes reflecting a genuine happiness. “But then... I always have fun with you.”

Tom’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, his grin widening as his heart skipped. “Can I tell you something equally crazy?” he asked, his voice holding a sincere tone.

“Of course!” Noelle replied, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“You’ve been the best part of New York,” he said, his voice steady despite the pounding in his chest. He held her gaze, every ounce of bravery keeping him from flinching away, from the sting of possible embarrassment. When she looked down, biting her bottom lip, the thud in his chest seemed to echo through the quiet space between them.

“Really?” she asked, her head tilting slightly as she searched his face for the truth.

“Really,” Tom confirmed, his smile growing as he spoke. “I’ve never felt like this with anyone else. It’s like, knowing you’re there makes everything seem possible. I don’t think I could’ve made it through this year without you,”

“I don’t know about that,” she said softly, her shoulders shrugging in a modest gesture, “You’re pretty incredible on your own, Tom.”

“Maybe,” he said with a chuckle, “But I feel extraordinary when I’m with you.” He laughed, his voice carrying a mix of nervousness and affection. “I know that sounds a bit daft, but—”

“No,” she interrupted, shaking her head as she leaned closer, “Not at all,” Her hand slid across the countertop, intertwining her fingers with his in a tender gesture, “I feel the same way,”

Their fingers remained intertwined, the contact a subtle but firm affirmation of their connection amidst the busy bakery. The surrounding sounds of clinking dishes and muffled conversations seemed to fade into the background as Tom and Noelle sat together, their shared silence speaking volumes. The rich aroma of pastries and the distant hum of the city outside created a cocoon of intimacy around them. It felt as if the entire universe had woven this chance occasion into their lives, making their present moment feel like the culmination of countless small, perfect coincidences.

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the hunger games x reader #original story #original female character #imagine blog

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hopelesshawks · 1 year ago

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Safe Haven

Hawks x Reader

The coffee shop au that I thought would be quick and then got so out of hand so fast omg. But hopefully it's in a good way

While this fic is sfw, the blog posting it is 18+ only, minors dni

Content Warnings: hurt/comfort, egregious use of italics, unreliable narrator (almost entirely on Hawks' end), Keigo being touch starved and desperate for affection bc he deserves more of it

General Masterlist Kofi

You flip the sign at the front door of your shop from open to closed. It’s late and you’ve cut off the main lights to discourage anyone from trying to come in. The only thing lighting up the interior of the dining area is the neon sign of your logo and the spillover from the fluorescent light of the stock room in back. It’s a friday night which means it’s time to go back over your inventory in detail and make note of what needs to be restocked. Your apartment is right upstairs so you don’t mind staying even later. There’s something peaceful about the area when the moon is high in the sky and every other business has closed for the night. There’s not much foot traffic at 1am, understandably so, which makes you feel like your shop is its own little lofi haven.

You’ve got a special playlist just for wrapping up for the night and it plays softly over the speakers as you wipe tables and counters and put away chairs. It’s easy to get lost in the familiar routine and the fall of rain outside only contributes to the easy atmosphere. As you finish up cleaning you know the stock room is waiting for you but you decide to take a second to just enjoy the moment. You lean against the front counter and let your eyes flutter shut, focusing instead on your other senses.

The smell of roasted coffee lingers in the air, cut by the smell of the disinfectant you’ve just used to wipe everything down. Life Goes On by Agust D plays over the speakers and it pairs perfectly with the heavy patter of the rain on the windows as the storm grows a bit stronger. It hasn’t started thundering but you wonder if it isn’t far behind. If it continues into the morning the foot traffic on the road will be less which means a slower day for the shop. You can comfortably afford to have some slow days so you’re not too worried by that, if anything it may be nice to have a peaceful day considering the approaching summer will likely mean workers, students, and tourists alike flooding in to escape the heat with fresh pastries and iced drinks.

You may have stayed wrapped up in your musings for a while yet if not for a sudden thud at the front door that interrupts your thoughts. You jump slightly as your eyes fly open. You’re not 100% sure what you expected to find. You don’t usually get entitled customers demanding entrance after closing considering you’re open until midnight and crime is rare in the area considering how frequently Hawks stops by.

Speak of the devil…

Hawks’ silhouette is impossible to mistake. His prosthetic wings aren’t quite as grand as his original ones were but they are just as recognizable. Especially considering it’s his back that’s pressed against your door, his head thunking against it with a quieter thud than the initial one that had caught your attention. As you slowly approach the door you can already tell he must be exhausted. You can hardly believe he’s flown in this weather considering how much it’s coming down and on closer inspection he looks absolutely drenched. He’s a regular at your store, likely because it’s the only coffee shop that stays open late in the area, but that still doesn’t explain why he’s here now. Alarm bells are going off in your head that something may be wrong, which is perhaps why you find yourself unlocking the doors and pushing open the one he’s not leaning against.

“Hawks?” you ask hesitantly as you lean out to look down on the weary pro hero.

He blinks up at you, his eyes slightly widened in surprise. It’s clear he didn’t think anyone was still in, which only makes you all the more curious why he’d come in the first place.

“You’re still here,” he notes and it’s not really a question but you find yourself nodding all the same.

“Sorry didn’t mean to bother you,” he mumbles and he seems millions of miles away. It’s a bit off putting considering the version of him you’re used to seeing. Sure he’s been a bit more subdued ever since the great war against All For One and the League of Villains, but he’s still made most of his public appearances with a reassuring if not cocky grin and a quick witted tongue. None of that seems present in the man at your feet now.

He stands again and it’s concerning how much effort it seems to take as he moves to leave so you’re quick to intercept him. You quickly surge forward to help support his weight, wrapping a hand around his arm as the other goes to his back to help support him.

“Why don’t you come in?” you find yourself offering.

“But you’re closed,” he protests, eyebrows furrowing as he starts to shrug out of your grasp.

You tighten your grip to prevent him from going anywhere. He’s plenty strong enough that he could easily have still escaped if he wanted to but the movement still gives him pause as he brings his gaze to meet yours, confusion and something else that looks suspiciously like smothered hope marring his golden irises.

“Doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t stay out in this weather anyway you’re soaked,” you insist.

That seems to be enough to convince him to follow you as you bring him into the warm safety of the cafe, closing the door behind you both and locking it again. When you look back to Hawks he’s frowning down at his feet where a puddle is slowly forming as rainwater dips off every inch of him and onto the floor.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll clean it up in a moment,” you assure him as you pull him with you behind the counter.

The store room light reminds you of what you still need to get done but you ignore it for now. You’ll get Hawks set up and then come back for it. You’re not entirely sure what he needs but you have a guess of what could at least start to help him feel better, so you guide him deeper back into the store where no other customer has ventured before. He’s tracking water with each step but you don’t really care as you guide him up a tight stairwell and into your apartment. It’s small and cozy, the lighting soft to make the transition to bed easier after the brightness of the stock room lights. You pull him past all your various succulents, stuffed bookshelves, and worn leather couch, into your bedroom and then the en suite bathroom attached to it.

“Get out of those wet clothes and take a warm shower. I’ll leave some clothes for you to change into on the bed and then you can come down and find me in the stock room if you’d like,” you explain gently.

You wait until he’s given you a nod of understanding, clearly still trying to process the generosity you’re showing him, and only then do you give him a soft smile and leave to give him privacy. You raid your drawers to find a hoodie and drawstring sweats that are oversized on you to leave for him. You leave them on the bed as promised and then head back downstairs.

The first order of business is to clean the floor back up but it doesn’t take long. You can’t help but think of the look on Hawks’ face when he’d realized he was making a puddle. It was far from a catastrophic mess and it took you almost no time at all to clean, yet he’d looked as if he’d committed some criminal offense; as if his presence was nuisance enough and dripping water on the floor was only adding insult to injury. Part of you wonders what could possibly make such a beloved pro hero, someone who must be used to being met with praise and adoration wherever he goes, look like that.

Then you remember the broadcast years prior that had revealed who his father is and you wince. With a father like that… Well it’s not your place to speculate, especially considering the basis for your speculation is information Hawks hadn’t willingly given.

To distract you from wandering thoughts and the memory of weary golden eyes you begin taking inventory as you’d originally intended before Hawks showed up at your door. It’s an easy enough process, comforting in its monotony, and you almost forget entirely about Hawks’ sudden appearance at your doorstep until the man himself makes his reappearance. You’re about halfway done with inventory at this point but you pause to briefly appraise your guest. He looks more present than when you first found him outside and soft in the borrowed clothes. He’s left his prosthetics upstairs, probably to dry off with the rest of his things, so you can fully take in the much smaller remnants of his natural wings. You can tell he feels a little wrong footed so you decide to offer him a lifeline.

“Want to help me with taking inventory?” you offer, figuring it will ease some of his discomfort if he feels like he’s helping instead of burdening you. Your instinct seems to be correct because he straightens a little at the offer and gives a somewhat eager nod. He doesn’t respond at all verbally, which throws you a little considering you’ve never seen him so quiet. Still you decide it’s best not to point this out, instead carefully explaining your process and handing him a notepad to take note of what you tell him to.

The process moves a little faster with you able to just call out what you will need to Hawks instead of pausing to take notes yourself. Your music is still playing and it fills the silence between each note you tell him to write down. It should feel odd considering this has always been a solo process for you. You’ve got a few employees who help out but you always take the closing shift yourself since it’s never too packed for one person to handle and that way no one has to make their way home so late at night. It feels natural working with Hawks though and he seems to appreciate having a task to do.

“That’s the last of it, how about you head up and put the kettle on while I finish closing stuff up down here?” you offer once you’ve finished. It’s ticking past 2am by now but you still can’t imagine sending Hawks home yet. Especially considering the rain is still coming down pretty hard. Again having a task to do seems to help him relax into the space and he gives you a short nod before disappearing back upstairs to do as told. You finally turn off your music and the neon sign in front, leaving the stock room light for last before going back into your apartment.

You’re not sure how much losing so many of his feathers has dulled his heightened senses so you make sure to make a decent amount of noise as you enter your apartment, intentionally stepping on the creakier floorboards so he has plenty of warning that you’re coming. You notice that he cleaned up the puddles he made earlier and when you enter the kitchen he’s already gotten two mugs out and set them by the stove. Your gaze lingers on them as you realize he’s inadvertently grabbed down one of your favorites. He seems to misinterpret why you’re looking at them because he suddenly gets a bit sheepish. A slightly self-deprecating grin that looks closer to the Hawks you’ve seen on tv spreads across his face as he reaches one hand up to scratch at the base of his neck where he still wears his hair shorter than he once did.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to rifle through your cabinets too much but I figured I should at least get mugs for us,” he offers with a chuckle that may have been convincing if you hadn’t seen the state he was in when he first arrived. You wave off his concern with a flippant gesture of your hand, moving to the drawer where you keep all of your tea.

“No apology necessary, thanks for getting them for us,” you reassure as you select out a chamomile tea for yourself and an even more soothing blend of lavender and butterfly pea for Hawks. The latter is one you crafted yourself, still a bit of a prototype before you’ll roll it out into the shop. It’s worked for you on especially stressful days, so you hope it can similarly help him shake off whatever it is that sent him to your doorstep.

When the kettle goes off you quickly move to fill both mugs, pressing your favorite into Hawks’ hands even if there’s no way for him to know the significance of the gesture. Tea now in hand, you guide him over to your couch, allowing you both to settle in comfortably with your hands wrapped around your mugs and your backs pressed against opposite arms of the couch. Your knees are pulled towards your chest, he’s got one knee bent and resting on the cushion so that foot hangs off the edge and the other foot is firmly planted on the floor. He looks torn between settling in more comfortably and bolting, but a deep inhale of the steam wafting off his cup seems to help ground him.

For a moment silence dominates as you’re unsure whether to pry or not and Hawks seems to have no intentions on being the first to say anything. It’s not a particularly comfortable silence but it’s not quite awkward either, just laden with tension at all of the things being left unsaid. It’s not like the two of you have ever done this before, although the ease of the whole process to get to where you are now may suggest otherwise. This is uncharted territory and as curious as you are to explore it, you don’t want him to spook him either.

Just as you’ve resigned yourself to the silence, Hawks finally clears his throat to catch your attention. His gaze doesn’t leave his tea and he still looks vaguely uncomfortable, but after another moment you watch a mask slip into place as he finally forces himself to address the elephant in the room and meet your eyes.

“So I’m guessing you’re wondering why I just showed up like this,” he chuckles and it’s more convincing this time.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you shrug and for a moment his mouth twitches into a more authentic smile before he carefully schools his expression once more. It’s almost a jarring contradiction to see such a curated look on his face while he’s wrapped up in your comfiest clothes.

“I owe you an explanation,” he starts but you quickly correct him.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

The words seem to catch him off guard in how absolute they are. From someone else it would probably sound like a platitude but you say it with such conviction that he can’t help but believe you. A part of him that sounds suspiciously like his HPSC handler warns him against opening up, but your insistence that he need not explain himself has ironically made him want to explain himself to you even more. Whatever pretty excuse had been on his tongue melts away and instead he finds himself formulating something more sincere.

“Thank you for that. Thank you for all of the hospitality actually. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here when I showed up,” he replies and the only word he can use to describe the way you tilt your head in apparent confusion is adorable.

“But you came anyway?” you ask.

“But I came anyway.”

“Do you mind if I ask why?”

He feels his smile go a bit sad. He doesn’t mind the question, actually he was sort of hoping you’d ask it. As deep down as he buries him, Keigo’s never quite managed to completely cut out that inner child that craves love and understanding while only getting contempt or indifference.

“I was just… exhausted. This was on the way and I just needed a safe place to catch my breath. It’s–”

Keigo’s eyes shut as he leans more heavily into the arm of the couch and blows out a breath.

“It’s been a long day. Too long. I needed to land and wait things out for a bit before I could make it the rest of the way home.”

When he opens his eyes again he expects to find something akin to pity on your face but instead only finds understanding. It makes his stomach do an odd flip and he quickly takes a sip of his still too hot tea to hide any reaction that may have shown on his face. He burns his tongue in the process but at least it gives him a physical sensation to focus on and ground himself in before he does something stupid like pour his whole heart out to you. His heart’s beating just a little too fast for comfort and he needs to slow it down if he wants to avoid embarrassing himself.

“I’m really glad this is a safe space for you. If you ever need a place to crash land, I’ll always welcome you here,” you reply so innocently, so genuinely, and just like that his heart is racing all over again. Do you know what your words are doing to him? Do you realize how rare and precious a gift you’re offering up so casually?

“What if you’re not here or I show up even later next time?” he asks because part of him needs to find the catch. Every salvation he’s ever received has had a catch, why should this one be any different?

“I’ll let the employees know you’re allowed in back if you come during opening hours and I’m not here. I’ll also give you my number in case you come after hours. Just call me and I’ll come let you in, even if I’m still half asleep when I do it,” you shrug. You shrug. As if you aren’t offering him the world. He could almost cry with it so instead he just nods and drowns himself in his tea, now a safely drinkable temperature.

Silence dominates the room again as you both drink your tea but it’s definitely comfortable this time. It’s almost unnerving how much he feels his guard lowering and the lower it goes the more he longs to reach out to you. You’re right there. If he stretched out his legs they’d likely brush yours where you’re curled up at the opposite end. It could be so easy to just close the distance, just a little bit, just enough to soothe the growing itchiness beneath his skin that creeps in when he’s at his most vulnerable. But years of abuse and strict HPSC approved training aren’t so easily overcome.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t reach out to touch the way he so desperately wants to, doesn’t do anything even though his inner child screams and begs for it in a way young Keigo was never actually allowed to. He just sits there, drinking the tea you picked out for him and hating himself and his parents and the HPSC for turning him into someone so incredibly starved for affection and yet absolutely terrified to receive it.

He mourns when he finishes the last of his tea. A quick look out the window reveals that the rain has stopped, which means he’s all out of excuses to stay in the warmth of your apartment. He’s got his own little safe space hidden away in his apartment that he’ll likely sleep in tonight but it feels so far away and lonely right now. Maybe you’ll hug him goodbye. You seem friendly enough to be the type to hug people goodbye and even the HPSC couldn’t begrudge him accepting it since not doing so would be rude. It would be all too brief but it would be something at least. Maybe just that much will be enough to soothe the ache inside him for a while, calm the longing until the next time he cracks and brings himself to your doorstep. It could be enough. He wants more, so much more he feels it viscerally, but it could be enough.

“Come here,” you suddenly say, setting your now empty mug on the floor next to the couch since the coffee table is just out of reach before stretching your legs out across the couch and reaching your arms out to him.

He blinks at you confused for a moment. Do you have a mind reading quirk or is he just that obvious? Do you really mean what you’re offering or do you just feel bad for him? Thousands of doubts fill his head and threaten to pull him into a downward spiral but when you just continue to extend the offer with a soft and genuine smile on your face, they suddenly don’t seem so loud. He still moves hesitantly, like one false or too quick move may break the trance of the room and cause you to withdraw from him. Hawks is famous for his speed, but right now Keigo’s pace is almost glacial as he sets down his own mug just as you had and then shifts forward in your space. He expects you to meet him in the middle and give him a quick hug but instead you take hold of his wrist and tug him into you with surprising strength. Before he knows it you’ve settled his head against your chest, your heartbeat right beneath his ear, like it’s nothing. Like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like this is a normal thing the two of you do together even though prior to tonight the most the two of you have done is talk and banter while you prepare his coffee.

At first he’s stiff in your arms and it must make you worried you’ve overstepped some boundary because your arms around him start to loosen but he won’t have that. Can’t have that. Not now that what he’s craved for so long is finally right here. So he hurries to reciprocate the embrace, bringing his arms up to wrap around your torso and squeezing, perhaps a bit too tightly.

“Don’t,” he pleads, and the word comes out so soft, so sad, so pathetic that he can hardly stand it. But you don’t judge him. Of course you don’t. You just lean down to press a kiss to the top of his head before bringing a hand up to card through his hair.

“I won’t. You’re safe here Keigo. You’re safe,” you assure him.

It should feel like a violation when you say his real name. It’s certainly felt that way any time someone else has said it since it became public knowledge. But somehow he just knows you’re only doing so because this moment feels too intimate for his hero name. If he told you not to use it he has total faith that you’d listen and maybe that’s naive of him. Everything from his training and upbringing tells him that it’s beyond foolish to put so much trust in anyone, let alone someone he knows as little as he knows you.

But you’ve also been a constant in his life ever since he first wandered into your coffee shop maybe a year or so ago. At first he was just coming in because you make a mean cup of coffee and the shop is conveniently located, but at some point he knows he started coming in just for the sake of speaking with you however briefly. After all, now that he thinks about it there were definitely times he stopped by only to see one of your employees at the counter instead of you and make some flimsy excuse for why his daily caffeine fix could wait. Maybe everything has been building to this without him even realizing. Somehow you’d carved a space inside him without his notice and it should terrify him but it’s hard to see it as a bad thing when he’s here now, your heartbeat steady beneath his head and your fingers gentle against his scalp.

“Why’re you doing this?” he asks, his voice rasping softly.

“Because heroes deserve to be taken care of,” you say but he can tell there’s more to the sentence you’re not saying.

He pulls back just enough to look up at you, searching your face for some sign of discomfort or regret, but he’s only met with the same hesitance he had already picked up on from your tone of voice as your hand stills in his hair.

“But?” he prompts but you shake your head and resume running your fingers through the blonde strands.

“Not ‘but’, ‘and’,” you clarify as you gently bring his head back to your chest. He goes easily enough and braces himself for whatever else you’re about to say.

“And since you’ve been coming in, I don’t know. It feels presumptuous to say but I feel like the more I see you the more I can see just how much is on your shoulders all the time. I can’t even imagine how difficult that must be. How lonely. I just… I want to give you some place to lay all of it down for a little while. It’s not like I can go out and do what you do but–”

“Thank you,” he interrupts, cutting off any attempt you might make to diminish what you’ve done for him tonight. He feels more than he hears the start of your protests, so by the time you’ve actually started to say them he’s already had enough time to sit up and force your eyes to meet his.

“Don’t. You have… you have no idea how much this means. So don’t say ‘it’s nothing’ or ‘anyone would have done it’ or something really stupid like an apology. Just accept my appreciation. Thank you,” he insists.

He watches you nod your head with wide, stunned eyes, clearly not expecting him to be so insistent with his gratitude. It would be so easy to lean down and press his lips to yours. He can feel it in the air, that subtle tension that makes the space between the two of you feel electric. But he’s been selfish enough for one night and he doesn’t want you to think he’s only doing it because you’re here and he’s feeling vulnerable. So he uses the grip he still has on your torso to shift you both until you’re laying on your sides, legs slotting together as if your bodies were made for each other as he settles you both comfortably into place.

“Let’s just stay like this a little longer, then I promise I’ll get out of your hair,” he whispers, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Stay the night. Only if you want to, obviously, but… I’d like it if you stayed,” you confess, smiling so warm and sweet.

“Okay, then I’ll stay.”

“Good.”

The two of you end up falling asleep there on the couch, and wrapped up in you and the smell of old leather and roasted coffee, Keigo thinks it’s the first time he’s known what a home could feel like.

A/N: This was so shamelessly self indulgent and self-inserty oops. Low key worried Keigo’s dialogue came out ooc but I’ve literally been working on this all day and it’s 1:30am now so we’re sending it lmao hopefully y’all have enjoyed

Taglist: @ahtsuwu @karamfilmare @larkspyrr @hutaoscoffinn @black-rose-29 @touyasdollmain @izukiss @moonstormmyuna @kingdomkeigo @dnarez @mandalorian-baby-bird @reinersbrat @simpsfortodoroki @unlogical-ella @crowned-peony

#hawks hurt/comfort #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #hopeless.oneshot

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fuck-customers · 2 years ago

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Customer: I want you to wipe down the counter before I put my things on it

Me: *looks at the line, considers that there's only one other cashier* no

Customer: Fine then, I'll do it, I'm going to go get some wipes *walks off*

Me: ...okay. Next in line!

Customer: *comes storming back yelling at me for having the audacity to not wait for her to find disinfectant wipes while there's a line forming* *passes her things around the barrier to me one at a time while complaining that "the pregnant lady" (my old supervisor, she left a few months ago and now I'M the supervisor) wiped down the counter for her, and they wipe it down between customers at [PLEASE STOP PUTTING STORE NAMES] (then go to [IT'S DRIVING ME CRAZY] then, idc)*

She didn't seem to notice that I made sure to put her things on the counter, as I do whenever someone snaps at me about their things touching the counter. Also, as I told my coworker a few minutes later, it took SO MUCH self restraint to not go "Lady, your things have been on the FLOOR half a dozen times already, the counter isn't gonna make them any dirtier"

#fuck customers #fuck retail

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yinachens · 5 months ago

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FOR: @arceneauxx WHEN: July 24' WHERE: Ray's Bar. Int. Sat at the bar.

It was a relatively quiet night, which unbenkownst to most customers who didn't spend as much time using their free wifi as she should, Yina spent an awful amount of time here. The untrained eye would miss how a single, lonely woman came here night in and night out, counting her cents to make sure she could stay as long as she needed. Usually brushing peanut crums from her legs, and wiping the some-what sticky surface every day she came back. But for all that she moaned, she quite liked it here. And had since she found the place some five years back.

She'd carved out a little corner, and familiar with the bar staff. To which made her feel like she wasn't completely alone -- despite the fact that they were paid to be here, and she was not. Here, she wasn't surrounded by the obtrusive thoughts that plauged her in her apartment. Her laptop screen illuminated her face from where she sat, the old jukebox choking songs out in the corner while ladies of the night, supposeduly off duty make passes at their unsuspecting victims. If she were a novelist, she could've made thousands off what she saw and overheard in this place. But for $2 beers, she had no complaints whatsoever.

Except maybe a new disinfectant for the bar stop, like seriously. This was where she felt most at home. Shifting her focus back to the reason that she was here, she stretched before her fingers found the keys once more. Tapping away. Just a few more minutes and she'd be into the database. Flyonthewall, one. Competitor, zero.

The ping from her computer had a burst of "Aha, got you." falling from her mouth, before she glanced around, eyes landing on an unfamiliar face as she forced her lips into a tight smile before diverting her gaze. That was not an invitation.

#noel & yina #arceneauxx #location: rays bar #int. bar

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ottawalucycleaningservices · 5 months ago

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Lucy Cleaning Services: Your Trusted Partner for Move-In, Move-Out, and Shampoo Carpet Cleaning in Ottawa

Moving into a new home or preparing to move out can be a daunting task, filled with excitement but also the stress of ensuring everything is clean and pristine. At Lucy Cleaning Services, we understand the importance of a fresh start in a clean environment, whether you're settling into a new place or bidding farewell to your current one. With our specialized services in move-in cleaning, move-out cleaning, and shampoo carpet cleaning, we ensure that your transition is smooth and worry-free.

Move-In Cleaning Services: Welcoming You to a Spotless Home

Moving into a new home is an exciting time, but it can also be overwhelming, especially when faced with the task of cleaning before you unpack. Lucy Cleaning Services offers comprehensive move-in cleaning solutions tailored to meet your needs. Our team of professional cleaners is equipped with the expertise and tools to tackle every corner of your new space, ensuring that it is fresh, sanitized, and ready for you to make it your own.

Our move-in cleaning checklist includes:

Detailed Dusting and Wiping: From ceiling fans to baseboards, we remove dust and cobwebs, ensuring a clean start.

Kitchen Cleaning: We thoroughly clean and sanitize countertops, cabinets, appliances, and sinks to provide you with a pristine kitchen from day one.

Bathroom Sanitization: Our cleaners pay special attention to bathrooms, scrubbing tiles, disinfecting surfaces, and ensuring fixtures sparkle.

Floor Care: Whether it's hardwood, tile, or carpet, we vacuum, mop, or steam clean to leave your floors looking immaculate.

Window and Mirror Cleaning: We clean windows, mirrors, and glass surfaces to let the light shine into your new home.

Customized Services: We understand that every home is unique, so we offer customizable cleaning services to address specific needs or preferences you may have.

With Lucy Cleaning Services, you can step into your new home with confidence, knowing that every corner has been meticulously cleaned to our high standards. Our commitment to excellence ensures that your move-in experience is as smooth and enjoyable as possible.

Move-Out Cleaning Services: Leaving Your Old Home in Pristine Condition

Moving out of a home requires leaving it in excellent condition for the next occupants or for the landlord inspection. Lucy Cleaning Services specializes in move-out cleaning services designed to restore your home to its original cleanliness and ensure a smooth transition for all parties involved. Our thorough approach and attention to detail guarantee that your old home will be left looking its best.

Our move-out cleaning checklist includes:

Comprehensive Cleaning: We clean all rooms, including bedrooms, living areas, kitchens, and bathrooms, ensuring every surface is spotless.

Appliance Cleaning: We clean inside and outside of appliances such as refrigerators, ovens, and microwaves to leave them looking like new.

Cabinet and Drawer Cleaning: We clean and sanitize cabinets, drawers, and shelves, removing any remaining items and ensuring they are ready for the next occupants.

Fixture Polishing: We polish fixtures such as faucets and handles to remove water spots and fingerprints, leaving them sparkling.

Floor and Carpet Cleaning: We vacuum, mop, or shampoo carpets and floors to remove dirt, dust, and stains, leaving them fresh and clean.

Wall and Baseboard Cleaning: We wipe down walls and clean baseboards to remove any marks or scuffs, ensuring a clean and presentable appearance.

Final Inspection: Before you hand over the keys, we perform a final inspection to ensure that every area meets our high standards of cleanliness.

Lucy Cleaning Services understands the importance of leaving a positive impression when moving out, whether you're a tenant or a homeowner. Our move-out cleaning services are designed to make the process as stress-free as possible, allowing you to focus on the next chapter of your life with peace of mind.

Shampoo Carpet Cleaning: Revitalizing Your Carpets for a Fresh Look

Carpets can accumulate dirt, dust, and stains over time, affecting the overall appearance and cleanliness of your home. Lucy Cleaning Services offers professional shampoo carpet cleaning services in Ottawa to restore your carpets to their original beauty. Our advanced cleaning techniques and eco-friendly products effectively lift dirt and stains, leaving your carpets clean, fresh, and revitalized.

Our shampoo carpet cleaning process includes:

Pre-Inspection: We assess the condition of your carpets to determine the best cleaning approach and identify any areas that may require special attention.

Pre-Treatment: We apply a pre-treatment solution to loosen dirt and stains embedded in the carpet fibers, preparing them for thorough cleaning.

Shampooing: Using state-of-the-art equipment, we shampoo the carpets to agitate and lift dirt and stains to the surface.

Extraction: We use powerful extraction equipment to remove dirt, water, and cleaning solution from the carpets, leaving them clean and nearly dry.

Spot Treatment: We treat any remaining spots or stains with specialized cleaning solutions to ensure a thorough cleaning result.

Drying: We use air movers to accelerate the drying process, allowing you to enjoy your freshly cleaned carpets as soon as possible.

Our shampoo carpet cleaning services are safe for all types of carpets and are performed by trained professionals who prioritize quality and customer satisfaction. Whether you're preparing for a move-in, refreshing your home, or maintaining cleanliness, Lucy Cleaning Services is your reliable partner for carpet cleaning in Ottawa.

Why Choose Lucy Cleaning Services?

At Lucy Cleaning Services, we are committed to providing exceptional cleaning services with a focus on quality, reliability, and customer satisfaction. Here’s why you can trust us with your move-in, move-out, and carpet cleaning needs:

Experienced Professionals: Our cleaning teams are trained, experienced, and dedicated to delivering superior results with every service.

Customized Cleaning Plans: We offer flexible and customizable cleaning plans to meet your specific needs and preferences.

Quality Assurance: We maintain high standards of cleanliness and conduct thorough inspections to ensure that our work exceeds your expectations.

Environmentally Friendly Practices: We use eco-friendly cleaning products and practices whenever possible to promote sustainability and ensure safety for you and your family.

Responsive Customer Service: We are committed to excellent customer service, and our friendly staff are always available to address your questions and concerns.

Competitive Pricing: We offer competitive pricing for our services, providing value for your investment in professional cleaning.

Whether you're moving into a new home, preparing to move out, or seeking to refresh your carpets, Lucy Cleaning Services is here to help. Contact us today to schedule your cleaning service and experience the difference a clean home can make.

#ottawamoveoutcleaning #ottawamoveincleaning #ottawashampoocarpetcleaning #ottawaofficecleaning

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mrsparkjimin18 · 1 year ago

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—What If… | SOPE

→ pairing: Project Director!Yoongi x Art Director!Hoseok

→ genre/au: light angst, fluff, diner au

→ rating: G

→ wordcount: 2888

⚠︎ chapter warnings: feelings of anxiousness (not necessarily anxiety, but more like the nervousness of a situation), mutual pining, long-time confusion, mention of another possible office romance

an: A special thanks to my beta readers @peachiilovesot7 @downbad4yoongi and Sara, I honestly wasn't sure if I would be able to make this story come to fruition, but thanks to you all here it is!!!

summary: Yoongi and Hoseok have been best friends since their early childhood. When life separates them, is it destiny that brings them back together? Have they always just been close friends or is this more than just a bromance? What if…

Bangtanstrology Writing Event hosted by @hisunshiine of @bangtanwritershq

My Big 3 are:

Scorpio Sun (Member): Sope

Scorpio Moon (How they met): Late Night Diner

Gemini Rising (Trope): Mutual Pining

The diner was noisy as usual. He didn’t understand why they always chose this place, there were too many distractions here. The constant sound of dishes clattering onto the busy busboy’s cart, the tables of animated customers chatting too loudly over cheap meals, the smell of grease and dollar store disinfectant that permeated the heated air, and that one lone dusty bulb at the end of its life cycle flickering above the corner booth

They all tugged at his periphery, demanding his attention, tying up his mind, until…suddenly… all of the distractions vanished.

The sound of the chime and a rush of frozen Toronto air pulled Hoseok's attention towards the door to watch his best friend of fifteen years stepping across the threshold and into the fluorescent light of the all-night diner that held it. Hoseok found his friend effortlessly suave and handsome under the harsh critique of the fluorescents. Ethereal is what came to mind as he watched Yoongi shake fluffy snowflakes from his ashy blonde hair and wipe away their fading essence from the lapels of his expensive black wool coat.

“Woah! Hyung is sexy!” Jungkook, one of the young programmers on their team, remarked, instantly confirming the feeling of awe Hoseok was experiencing at the sight of his old friend.

“Look at him! He belongs on the cover of GQ," another programmer, Taehyung, teased.

To Hoseok's surprise, Yoongi smiled coyly, quickly striking a pose as his younger co-workers continued to whistle and shout out obnoxious cat calls.

Hoseok wasn’t used to Yoongi being so playful in a public setting, and he couldn’t help the amused smile that formed on his face as he watched his usually stoic friend walk an imaginary catwalk towards their table, the tail of his coat flowing out dramatically behind him as he twirled and strutted.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough, let’s not make a scene,” Their CEO, Namjoon, intervened in order to refocus his team's attention. He waited patiently for everyone to quiet down and settle into their seats. “Okay,” Namjoon began, seeing the expectant look in their eyes. “I’d like to start by saying great job to everyone! We’ve all worked hard the last few weeks. I know things were tough, and I know It felt as if everything would fall apart after our previous Art Director…. Uhm… abrupt departure,” he said with a careful grimace, knowing the topic was still sensitive. “...but thankfully, we were lucky that our Project Director, Yoongi, was able to refer his extremely talented friend during our darkest hour.” He turned towards Hoseok with his glass held out in respect. ”You’ve been a savior for our company, Hoseok. Without you, the successful completion of this project would have never happened. We sincerely thank you, and appreciate you, and look forward to many more successful ventures with you as part of this team.” He finished with a gentle squeeze of Hoseok's shoulder before returning his attention to the rest of the team and lifting his glass even higher. “Let’s congratulate Hoseok on his hard work!” He rallied their enthusiasm.

They all raised their glasses, clinking them together as they each reaffirmed Namjoons words of gratitude.

“Speech! Speech!” Jimin, the team's graphic designer, and the only member who worked directly beneath Hoseok, shouted out. Hoseok tried to decline, but the look of pride on Yoongi’s face, and the affirming head nod, were all the encouragement he needed to loosen his tongue.

Hoseok stood up confidently and addressed the whole table. “First, I want to thank the team for taking me in and truly valuing my artistic vision. I know it was hard to have someone new come in mid-project, with a new perspective and new ideas. But you allowed me to truly express myself as part of this team, and together we were able to create something amazing.”

“And profitable!” Seokjin, the Chief Financial Officer, interjected, drawing cheers and shouts from the amped-up crew and a stern look from Namjoon that quickly turned into an appreciatively flustered smile at his CFO’s brash but loveable personality.

“And profitable,” Hoseok agreed with a raise of his glass and a wink towards Seokjin. “Second,” he continued, his attention turning solely to his friend. “I’d like to thank Yoongi. You’ve been my rock since we were kids, and I truly appreciate you for that. When we took different paths after college, I was worried it could end our friendship. But…” Suddenly, the depth of Yoongi’s gaze made the words feel heavy in his mouth. His confidence waned, and he stumbled for control of his thoughts, “...But I’m…Thankfully…well…I mean…I’m happy…”

“...that fate had other plans.” Yoongi finished for him, his eyes never leaving Hoseok’s, even as the table erupted in agreement.

“To Unmyeong!” The entire team cheered to fate as they again clinked glasses and gulped down their swirling mixtures of beer and soju.

“Yes, cheers to that!” Namjoon concluded, his voice commanding the attention be returned to him. “Next I’d like to…” he went on, picking up where he left off before Hoseok's speech.

But Hoseok couldn’t hear a word Namjoon was saying. The only sound was the rush of his pounding heart in his ears. He stood frozen in place, still staring at Yoongi, who had already turned his attention back to their boss, wondering why everything felt so different.

It had been almost four years since they’d last seen each other. Four years of military service, failed relationships, career growths, family drama, and all the other ups and downs that life can throw out in that length of time. He had known things would be different when they met again, but this was more than just the passage of time, this change was palpable and alive, and this change had meaning and purpose.

He’d felt it since his arrival a few weeks ago, that sense that a shift had occurred in their paradigm. A low-frequency buzz in the background of his thoughts seemed to be alerting him to the universe’s realignment. But he had been so busy, throwing himself headfirst into the project as soon as he arrived, that he’d inadvertently ignored it.

And now that it refused to be ignored, all Hoseok could do was stand frozen in place and wait. Wait for his heartbeat to return to a normal rhythm, wait for the word fate to cease its endless repetition through his mind, wait for a miracle to save him from this paralysis.

“...so cheers to a job well done.” Namjoons voice broke through, a faint echo from another dimension, as he tapped his glass to Hoseok’s. Then suddenly, Yoongi’s hand was grabbing his, pulling him back down into his seat, swiftly and effectively breaking the spell he’d been under.

Everyone was still clinking glasses and high-fiving each other to whatever news Namjoon had just announced. Not wanting it to be obvious he hadn’t been paying attention, Hoseok quickly raised his hand from beneath the table to join in, tapping his glass across the table to Jimin’s, readying his other hand to give him a high five.

Yoongi reacts instinctively, noticing Jimin no longer paying attention, grabbing Hoseok’s wrist. Their eyes met at that moment, and they entranced one another, unable to look away. Yoongi reaches up with his free hand, gently bringing Hoseok’s hand to his in a soft high five. Their fingers intertwined, unaware if anyone else was paying attention, let alone bothered if they did. The soft pad of Yoongi's thumb stroked Hoseoks gently. He’d noticed the look of worry on his face and wanted to give him solace in knowing it’s okay.

Hoseok shook his head to break free of his current trance when he realized he was still gripping Yoongi’s hand from across the table. Without realizing it, Yoongi and Hoseoks hands connected in that surreal moment and stayed together a bit longer than everyone else. Satisfying electricity flowed from their fingertips, finally breaking the longing gaze, and the skin contact quickly ceased leaving their cheeks tinted with a rosy blush.

“I have a question,” Seokjin turns toward Yoongi and Hoseok, “We’ve been working with Mr. Min for a little over a year, but we hadn’t heard about Mr. Jung until the need for an Art Director came about. So tell me, why did you keep your best friend a secret?”

“It’s not that I kept him a secret, he was serving the remainder of his military enlistment. We’ve always kept in contact. That's how I knew he was struggling to find employment, and at the same time, we were in need of a new Art Director. No secrets, I promise.”

“Actually, Yoongi had joined the military straight after university to get it out of the way, but I wanted to take some time to enjoy life after so many years of school. It just seems like the timing was always off for us, but now we’re back together as if we were never apart.”

“Back together?” Jimin childishly mocks Hoseok.

“So, did you only spend time with each other back home?” Jungkook asked out of curiosity, yet his tone was mildly mischievous.

“Well, we met in elementary school and we weren’t really friends at first. One day, some of the kids were messing with me and Yoongi showed up out of nowhere like my bodyguard, scared them off and we were attached at the hip after that.”

“We also have other friends,” Yoongi interjected. “But they’re more like acquaintances we met over the years. You can say Hoseok and I had time to form a special bond..”

Yoongi glanced at Hoseok. He could sense a feeling of something he can’t quite put his finger on – maybe it’s embarrassment, anxiousness, he’s not exactly sure.

Surrounded by their coworkers, the loud and insignificant banter doesn’t phase Yoongi, his only focus was on Hoseok.

“I wanted to apologize for being so busy when you arrived…” Yoongi paused momentarily, leaning over the table a little more, “I haven’t even been to your apartment that I found for you since you moved here.”

“I hope you weren’t waiting for an invite,” Hoseok joked, “Since I wasn’t going to send one…I just assumed you were aware it isn’t necessary.”

“I’m probably free this weekend, that is, if you don’t have any plans?” Yoongi replied with a smirk, his eyebrows raised with curiosity.

Hoseok’s heart began to thump against his chest, sweat formed on his brow and upper lip, a feeling of queasy dizziness overtook him.

Why does he make me feel this way? Hoseok thought. He squirmed in his seat, thinking he needed to adjust his posture to compose himself and rid his body of the uneasy feeling he was attempting to endure without giving Yoongi any hint of something being…off. However, he quickly realized he needed to remove himself from the playful gaze of the man he’s known nearly his whole life, whom he’s also known he’s had feelings beyond friendship for nearly as long.

“I don’t have any plans, but if you’ll excuse me, I have to use the restroom,” Hoseok jumped from his seat and quickly disappeared to the rear of the diner.

The server arrived to take their order, “We can wait for Hoseok to come–” Taehyung was immediately cut off by Yoongi.

“I’ll have the fried chicken with french fries and a Coca-Cola. He’ll have,” he pointed to the empty chair across from him, “A hamburger, grilled with salt and pepper, bun toasted with butter, no tomato and extra pickles. Instead of grilled onions, raw onions, condiments on the side, french fries without salt on a separate plate and a Sprite, light on the ice.”

Everyone else ordered and the three youngest team members couldn’t wait until the server left the table.

“Mr. Min,” Jimin teased. “You’re always taking extra care of Hoseok at work, checking on him, bringing him coffee.”

“You even knew precisely what to order him,” Jungkook joked. “It’s so cute.”

“Is there something you’d like to tell us about your friendship?” Taehyung questioned with a childish tone.

“That’s enough,” Namjoon intervened, “Their private lives are just that…private. What they had in the past or have currently is none of our business if it’s not work related.”

“He’s right, you three just don’t know when to stop sometimes,” Seokjin added in agreement.

The team members quickly hush as Hoseok arrived back at the table and shortly after the server returned with their food.

“Yoongi, thank you for ordering for me.”

“It’s not a problem, I know what you like.”

“I bet you know what he likes,” Jungkook mumbled, and Namjoon nudged him gently with his elbow.

“Don’t tease, they’re best friends,” Namjoon repeated.

“It’s okay,” Hoseok giggled. “Our friends back home teased us about how close we’ve always been…you guys want to see some old pics of us?”

“Hobi, don’t,” Yoongi pouted.

“H-Hobi?” Jimin giggled.

“Yoongi has called me that since we were teenagers. It started as ‘Hopi,’ a mixture of Hoseok and Hope, because I was always hopeful about the future and where we’d be years from those days. Hobi was how it sounded to others, so he stuck with that.”

“Aww, that’s cuuuute,” Jungkook quipped.

“Yeah, yeah. I’d rather you just show them the pictures,” Yoongi insisted.

Hoseok pulled out his phone, scrolling through it until he found the perfect one.

“This is when we were on our high school soccer team.”

“Hey! That’s the way you were looking at him tonight, Hobi!” Jungkook laughed.

“A look of endearment,” Taehyung added.

“Oh, here’s another one during university after our first midterms.”

“Yoongi! You look so cool!” Jimin exclaimed.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough embarrassment for one night. Anyway, how about more congratulations on a job well done?” Yoongi raised his glass, his eyes fixed on Hoseok as he watched him clink in a cheer with the other team members. He fiddled with his food, hunger evaded him as he too became lost in thought. He wonders what he’s begun to feel, it’s new but not new, could it be platonic or something more? Yoongi noticed Hoseok had ketchup on the side of his mouth and he reached across the table with a napkin, only to drop it next to his plate.

“You’ve got something on the corner of your mouth, clean it up.” Yoongi mumbled casually.

“Thank you,” Hoseok cleared his throat before picking up the napkin and wiping his mouth.

Namjoon ordered another round of drinks for the team before they finished their food. Jungkook showed pictures of his long-distance girlfriend, Vanessa, and Taehyung decided he needed to one up him by showing a picture of his girlfriend that actually lived in the same apartment complex.

Jimin showed pictures of his niece whom he adored as if she was his own, which led to the usual tipsy version of him getting teary-eyed as he talked about her.

Hoseok noticed that Namjoon and Seokjin didn’t share any pictures of their “significant others,” and he realized they never really talked about having one.

Time passed quickly as they talked about future work projects, the three youngest argued over little things and Yoongi and Hoseok continued to indirectly dote on each other.

One by one, the team members said their goodbyes, until it was just the four of them left – Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi and Hoseok.

“Well, it’s getting late and I have to be at the office early to finalize some paperwork for the product launch. Have a good night.” Namjoon stood and put his jacket on, nodding to Yoongi and Hoseok before exiting the restaurant.

“Tonight’s team dinner was…nice,” Hoseok murmured nervously before finishing off his drink.

Seokjin sighed, crossing his arms, his thick eyebrows furrowed and a serious expression on his face, “Don’t pay attention to what those three say, they’re always joking, even when the situation doesn’t call for jokes.” He glanced at the diner exit, “I think it’s time for me to take my leave as well, but whatever you two have, whether it be just a long-time childhood friendship or something more, don’t let anyone or anything get in the way of your bond.”

He rose from his seat and quickly headed toward the door, leaving Yoongi and Hoseok staring at one another, waiting for the other to say something…anything.

Yoongi bit his lip, wondering if he should speak first…

Hoseok waited anxiously, thinking maybe he should express his feelings honestly…

He finally realized exactly what he wanted to say…

His lips began to part and he was ready to pour his heart out…

Just as one of them was about to speak, the chime of the diner door caught their attention. They glanced toward the window to see Namjoon standing outside. Seokijn walked to him and they exchanged a few words. Namjoon played with Seokjin's collar before they disappeared from view hand in hand.

Yoongi and Hoseok looked across the table at one another, a puzzled expression as they tried to decipher what they saw. Hoseok reached his hand across the table, placing it over Yoongi’s. A surge of new emotions, unfamiliar and relatively intimidating, consumed his entire being. Naturally, he began to softly stroke the palm of Hoseok’s hand, accepting whatever may occur from that night forward. A simple thought crossed both of their minds…

What if…

#bts fanfction #bts angst #bts #writers on tumblr #fiction #min yoongi #jung hoseok #mild angst #sope fic #sope fanfiction #hoseok angst #mutual pining #childhood friends #pining #desire #bangtanwhq

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