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spectoo · 2 days ago

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tuna mayo ! miya osamu

chapter four – props to you, sakusa

wc 4050 (sorry, this chapter is little long!)

MDNI.

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13:50.

“Alright, everybody! Thank you for coming to the lecture today, and if you have any questions, please feel free to ask me or any of the TA’s.”

With that being said, everybody in your communications lecture got up and began to either walk towards the professor with curiosity roaming throughout, or pack up and leave. You never really had much trouble with classes, as you were an outstanding student, but to be honest, school wasn’t the only thing on your mind.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Miya Osamu.

Well, more specifically, you couldn’t stop thinking about the food he had made for you. Yes, he himself was running through your mind, but the food was more important. It was seriously some of the best you’ve had. It had been six days since you were at Onigiri Miya, and quite frankly, you’ve been itching to go back.

As you walked out of the building you were in, you were debating if you should go get lunch there. You had work in about an hour and a half, yet, there were numerous thoughts roaming throughout your head.

‘Would it be weird if I went without Atsumu? Or just in general? But, I did tell Miya I was gonna be back eventually…’

The frustration got to you, and in response, you let out a small huff while beginning the short walk to your car. You did want to go back to Onigiri Miya to try other rice ball flavors, but you didn’t want to make things awkward. Would Atsumu be okay with the fact that you found his twin brother attractive?

‘Probably not.’

You reached in your pocket to pull out your car keys, as your car was in full view. If you did want to go to Onigiri Miya, who could you possibly go with? More accurately, who would be the best option to go with?

You didn’t want to take any of your personal friends with you, as you didn’t want them to catch on to the fact that you’re interested in someone new. You opened your car door, and quickly situated yourself.

slam!

You began to scroll through your contacts on your phone to decide who you should take with you.

‘Atsumu, no. Hinata… no. Inunaki? Out of the question. Bokuto, hell no. He has a big mouth.’ Finally your eyes landed on the perfect person to text.

You were surprised at the fact that Sakusa had agreed to come with you, let alone the fact that he was okay with being in the same car as you. You knew he wasn’t a big fan of being pretty close to other individuals, but a win is a win.

You were glad that you became acquaintances with him. He wasn’t the type of guy to really get involved in other people's business, and this was a good opportunity to possibly become actual friends with him.

You put your car in drive, and left campus while setting directions to Sakusa’s apartment, with new thoughts about what you should order when you arrive at Onigiri Miya.

𐙚 OSAMU

As mentioned before, it had been six days since you were last at his store. He had been wondering when you were going to come back.

He was currently sitting in his office at Onigiri Miya, and was filling out some order forms. Rush hour had recently ended, and he was glad he was able to take a short ‘break.’ His three scheduled employees were currently cleaning some areas of the kitchen.

A part of him wished he had asked for your number so he was able to know if you were even going to come back, but then again, you both only met once. And plus, Atsumu considered you to be one of his closest friends. The last time Osamu had expressed to Atsumu that he thought one of his female friends was somewhat attractive, a small, verbal fight had broken out.

Please note that this was back in highschool, too.

Yes, years had gone by, and they’ve both grown into (somewhat) mature adults, but Atsumu was still unpredictable.

‘He probably wants her for himself.’ Osamu scoffed. ‘Selfish pig.’

𐙚 YOU

14:16.

“I’m outside.” You spoke as you put your car in park. You had arrived at Sakusa's apartment complex, which was rather luxurious.

“I’ll be down in a second.” A deep voice responded back through the speakers of your car.

“Okay, bye.” You ended the call.

As you laid back in your seat, you decided to observe the scenery around you. His apartment complex was truly gorgeous. There was a lot of greenery, yet it was all neatly planted. You looked to your left, and saw the volleyball player walking towards your car in his usual outfit – some black gym shoes, black joggers, a black hoodie, and a black mask.

‘He wasn’t even lying when he said he’d be down in a second…’ You thought to yourself as you unlocked the car.

As he opened the door, he immediately sat down, and quickly settled himself.

You bowed your head as a greeting. Shortly after bowing, you began to nod your head, as you were very impressed with him. “Props to you, Sakusa. You’re very punctual with your timing.”

He pulled down his mask, and bowed back to you. “Thank you, [L/N].”

You quickly put in the navigation for Onigiri Miya, and began the drive.

“So, how’s your day been?” You ask, trying to start a conversation.

“It was okay. How about you? You had classes today, correct?” He responded neutrally.

You smiled. You remember mentioning your school schedule to Sakusa, yet he didn’t seem to be fully interested as you were telling him. “Correct. My day was great, but I got assigned a project for one of my elective classes. It’s okay though, it was expected."

He let out a small ‘hm' before going on his phone and scrolling. You quickly glanced at him, and focused back on the road, while gently tapping your finger on the steering wheel. ‘So much for communication.’

14:25.

There was about five minutes left of the drive, and you and Sakusa haven’t really spoken a word since your failed conversation, yet, you considered the both of you to be sitting in comfortable silence. ‘Popular’ by The Weeknd was currently playing, and the volume was at the perfect amount. You were internally jamming out, but was interrupted.

“[L/N].”

You look over at the curly haired man sitting beside you, and turn the volume down a bit.

“What’s up?” You ask, turning your head back, and keeping your eyes on the road in front of you.

“Have you been to Onigiri Miya before? Or is this your first time?”

You were a bit taken back by this, even though it was pretty unserious. “Uh, yeah. I tried it for the first time about a week ago.”

A small silence… “I went with Atsumu and Hinata.” You continued, in a less confident manner.

“Ah.” Sakusa looked out his window, and you thought that was the end of the conversation. Yet, he spoke once more, turning back to you. “So, you met Osamu? What did you think of him?”

Your heart dropped. Logically speaking, you shouldn’t even be concerned in this first place, but why was he asking question, after question? You decided to stay quiet for as long as you possibly could, while thinking of a proper answer. A couple seconds have gone by at this point, and Sakusa was still staring at you, expecting an answer.

You quickly turn your head towards him, with a still face, and turn back. “Um, you know… Miya seems like a nice guy.” Your eyes quickly move to the ETA on your carplay. ‘2 minutes…’ With that being said, you pressed the gas pedal with a little more pressure to speed up. You didn’t know where this conversation was going, which made you a bit tense.

Sakusa seemed to notice this, and nodded his head, deciding to stop talking.

‘What was that even about? Like? ... Oh, I have to turn here.’

You make a right turn, and enter the plaza where Onigiri Miya is located. It’s all starting to seem familiar to you. You decide to park in the same spot you were in last time, and after you turn off your car, both you and Sakusa get out simultaneously. He quickly pulled his mask up, and the both of you walked to the door.

You opened the door for him, and went in behind him. Immediately after entering, you’re both greeted by one of the female employees at the store.

“Hello, welcome in!” she spoke as she bowed to the both of you.

You both nodded back. You and Sakusa walked closer to the counter, and the first thing you noticed was that Osamu wasn’t in your sight at all. You were immediately disappointed, yet didn’t think much of it. As you look up at the menu, you hear Sakusa speak.

“Could you tell Miya to come to the front?”

The disappointment you felt earlier was gone at once.

“No problem.”

You briefly look at the worker, and see her walking to the back, most presumably to his office.

‘Round two, Miya.’ You smirked.

𐙚 OSAMU

knock knock!

“Boss, Sakusa is here with someone else, and he asked for you!”

Osamu immediately looked up from his paperwork, and put his pen down. ‘No shot.’ He thought as he got up, and straightened out his clothes.

He opened the door that leads out of his office, and to the kitchen. He could feel some anxious feelings being brought up within himself, but paid no mind. “Thank you, Ito. Could you go help prepare some fillings?”

“Yes.” She slightly bowed, and walked away.

Osamu began walking towards the front. He saw Sakusa first, staring back at him. And… It was you. A little bit distant from Sakusa, and looking at the menu.

“Hey, Sakusa.” Osamu turned to look at you, to already see you staring back at him. “Hello, [L/N]. I was wonderin’ when you were gonna show up again.” He said as he put his hand on his hips, while internally cursing himself out. He was trying to act nonchalant, but his true feelings got the best of him.

You responded with a chuckle. “Hey, Miya. I would’ve showed up sooner, but school got the best of me.”

As you and Osamu began a new conversation about what you would potentially be ordering this time, nothing between the both of you went unnoticed by Sakusa. Yes, he was quiet sometimes, but he was still observant. He noticed how you had that little smile plastered upon your face while talking with Osamu. He also noticed how Osamu’s cheeks began to flush a very light pink color, which Sakusa has never seen him do before.

“Helloooo, earth to Sakusa? Are you there?” He immediately snaps out of his daze to see you waving your hand at a safe distance in front of his face. “Hello.”

“Ya want the usual, ‘Omi?” Osamu began tapping some buttons on his register, before Sakusa could respond. Yet, nothing was wrong with this as the curly haired man began to nod his head.

“Uh, also, put [L/N]’s order on the same bill as mine.” He quickly spoke, putting his hands in his pocket.

You raised an eyebrow, and turned to Sakusa. “Oh? Why?”

“You picked me up, and drove me here.”

You stayed silent for a second, truly wondering if he was being serious. Yet, you internally grinned. This was your opportunity to drop the ‘friend’ bomb on him.

“Um… we’re friends. I don’t mind having to drive you to places.” Nailed it.

He sighed, and pulled his mask down. “I suppose. I’ll still pay, though.”

You shrugged, and internally came up with the solution to just pay for him the next time you both get food together. “Okay… um… I think I’ll do two bonito flake rice balls, and three tenmusu.”

“What? No vigorous amount today?” Osamu responded back, tapping more buttons on his screen.

“I actually can’t. My stomach began to hurt after I got back to my apartment last time.”

“What did ya expect? Ya had fifteen onigiri.” He grinned as he put both of his hands on the counter in front of him.

“Excuse me, [L/N]? You had fifteen?” Sakusa looked absolutely disgusted.

You didn’t even know what to say. You pursed your lips together and looked away. After a couple of seconds of silence between the three of you, you spoke up, and pointed to a table in the corner. “I’m going to sit there.” And with that being said you, walked away.

“Alright, ‘Omi. Yer total is ¥2,500. Ya doin card?”

Sakusa nodded his head, and handed Osamu his card. “By the way, could you, uh, make my onigiri to go?”

Osamu briefly looked up at the man in front of him, and looked back down to the card reader. “Yer not eatin’ with [L/N]?”

“I am, it’s just in case.”

Osamu let out a small “hm,” and handed Sakusa his card back. “Should be out in a couple minutes.”

With that, Sakusa walked to the table you were at, and took a seat across from you. You put your phone down, and the both of you begin to have a small conversation about relations to MSBY.

14:38.

“Order up.”

You and Sakusa both look at Osamu, holding a ceramic plate with one hand, and a plastic bag with the other. Sakusa gets up and bows to him, then grabs both from him without any issue.

“Whose bag is that?” You ask while pointing at it.

“Oh…” Sakusa puts your plate on the table, yet doesn’t sit back down. “It’s mine. My um– Meian texted me and asked me to come early to practice. So I got my food to go.”

You stare at him with a bewildered look on your face. “Meian texted you?” You tried confirming. You don’t remember him going on his phone since you both walked into the store, and you know that Meian would not be the one to text him, it would be Coach Foster.

“Yeah… so I’ll be leaving.”

You slowly nod your head. He didn’t sound too confident with his answers, and at this point, you knew he was making this up. “Okay, no problem. But how are you gonna get there? I drove you, ya’ know.”

Sakusa averted his eyes from you, and to the window behind, and almost immediately, a red Lexus EX, with tinted windows, halted directly in front of the store. As you heard the tires screeching, you turned around to get a quick look, and before you knew it, Sakusa bolted out of Onigiri Miya, and almost instantly, got into the car.

You watched with so much confusion as the car sped away, wondering where everything within this situation went wrong. Soon enough, you could hear footsteps getting closer to you, yet you continued to look out the window.

“Did Sakusa just leave ya by yerself?” A deep voice spoke. You didn’t even have to look at the person to know who it was.

“Yeah, it was really weird. I’ve never seen him leave abruptly like that.” You can feel Osamu’s eyes on you, and as you turn around to look at him, you’re met with a view of his sculpted chest, yet, at a safe distance. The shirt he was wearing wasn’t even covering the outline of his upper body.

You internally thanked God for this view, although eventually realized that you were quite literally just staring at his chest. You quickly shift your eyes to his face, only to be met with a smirk, which causes the tips of your ears to turn red. ‘Fuck.’ Is the only word appropriate enough to react with, because how else would you respond to this situation?

“Would ya like me to make yer onigiri to go? I doubt you’d wanna stay here by yerself.” Osamu asked, crossing his arms and keeping that smug look on his face.

You thought to yourself for a moment, and realized that this was your chance to learn more about him. And probably throw in a little flirting.

You put your right elbow on the table, and put your cheek in the palm of your hand, still keeping eye contact with Osamu. “Y’know, I would say yes, but I did come here for a reason.”

“Oh? Care ta’ elaborate?”

You mentally shrieked like a teenage girl. You loved where this was going. “What fun would there be if I did, Miya?”

𐙚 OSAMU

‘Is this actually happening?’

You coming to Osamu’s store was already the highlight of his day, but this conversation the two of you are having? He can’t handle it. Just imagine how he feels – he’s been wanting to see you for almost a week, and his wish has been fulfilled. Even with more added to it!

Then, almost instantly, he had the best idea. ‘Should I do… it?’ He wondered. He didn’t want to come off as weird, but he thought of a way to continue this conversation, and see more of your face while working.

He let out a brief huff, and grabbed your plate with the five uneaten rice balls on it.

“My food.” You whined, just loud enough for him to hear. He thought that was cute.

He then sets your dish at the counter that overlooks the kitchen, which could give whoever sits there a clear view of him and his employees, making the food.

He looks back at you, and motions for you to come and sit there. “I’ll keep ya company while ya eat.”

‘Was that slick enough?’ He asked himself, feeling unsure, but when he sees you pick up your necessities, and start walking to him, he can’t help but feel like he’s won the lottery.

𐙚 YOU

As you get closer, you watch the handsome man as he pulls out a specific chair for you, and you gladly take a seat. Then after, he pushes you in, and goes behind the counter, preparing to make more rice balls for his display case.

“Do you treat all your customers like this?” You asked, finally picking up one of your onigiri, and taking a bite out of it.

Osamu is directly in front of you, and as you’re chewing, your eyesight falls to his hands, looking through the glass, and watching the way he is sculpting the rice.

‘So he’s good with his hands, huh?’

“Eh, just the pretty ones.”

You immediately look back up at him, to see him already staring at you. You swallowed, and spoke. “Acting confident, are we?”

He chuckled, and began to wrap the onigiri he had just completed. “I’m just tellin’ it how I see it.”

You rolled your eyes while smiling, and took another bite of your food. “Thank you.”

Osamu briefly walked away to put the onigiri on display, which gave you some time to observe him, but from behind. You realized he had an upside down triangle body shape, which you found incredibly attractive. Your eyes then moved to his butt, and you cursed yourself in your head. ‘Why can’t mine be as big as his?’

“Oi, [L/N]. Ya checkin’ me out?” His voice startled you, causing you to instantly look anywhere else but him.

“I dunno what you’re talking about.” You denied. He could see right through you. He knew you were staring at him, and truth to be told, he didn’t mind at all.

You move your eyes back to his face, and sigh, before taking another bite out of your onigiri.

“Whatever ya say.” He began to work on the next onigiri, and once more, you looked at the way his hands stuffed the rice with filling.

15:08.

Time had gone by since you were seated at the counter, and you were nearing the end of your little trip to Onigiri Miya. You had already finished all five of your onigiri towards the beginning of your conversation with him, but stayed to talk. You ended up learning more about him, and he learned about you.

He told you that he was from the Hyogo prefecture, and he grew up with no other siblings besides Atsumu. He had also mentioned that he went to Inarizaki, and played volleyball as a kid, up until highschool. He was a wing spiker, and he was damn good at what he did. When it came down to you, you told him where you grew up, and how many siblings you have in contrast to him. You brought up the fact that you had played a couple of different sports when you were a kid, but didn’t have the passion to really continue as you grew older.

As the both of you were laughing at a joke you had made, you looked down at your phone, and saw the time. You had to leave for work now if you didn’t want to be late and risk getting lectured by one of your supervisors.

You sighed as you stood up, and handed Osamu your plate.

“Ya gotta go?” He asked, taking it from you, and putting it in the sink.

“Yeah, unfortunately I have work at 15:30.”

He wanted to tell you something along the lines of ‘Who cares about your job? Just skip work and stay here with me!,’ but obviously, he couldn’t. Instead, he said with a thin lined smile, “Well, ya gotta do whatcha’ gotta do.”

You nodded as you stood up, and grabbed your necessities, shoving them in your pockets. You look at Osamu, and bow. “Thanks for keeping me company, Miya. You didn’t have to.”

He began to wave one of his hands in a dismissive way. “Ya don’t have to bow, [L/N]. In all honesty, I wanted to continue talking to ya. Yer a lighthearted person, and ya can’t find much of that nowadays.”

Your eyes literally twinkled at that compliment. “I appreciate that. For all that It’s worth, thanks for not being unamusing.” And with one final bow, you began to make your way to the door.

Your heart began to pound, due to the fact that you were proud of yourself. Proud of yourself for not acting awkward, and for having a good time with a ten out of ten. Before you could reach the door handle, said ten out of ten called out to you.

“Wait, [L/N].” You turned around to already see him walking to you, phone in his hand. You waited until he got close enough to you, and when he did, you both stood there, staring at each other. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but was hesitating.

Therefore, you took initiative. “Are you okay?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. Then, almost instantly, he held out his phone, with the contact app already opened.

“Can I have yer number?”

You swore you almost fainted.

“U-uh, yeah! Sure.” You quickly muttered out, trying to hide the blush that was present on your face.

You also grabbed your phone and opened the contact app, ultimately, switching phones with each other.

𐙚 Bonus

14:39.

After Ongiri Miya was out of distance, Sakusa groaned, and looked at the individual who was driving the red Lexus. “Why do you drive like a maniac?”

“Nevermind that! Do you think she’s going to end up staying?”

Sakusa turned his head to look out the passenger window, and stayed silent for a couple of seconds, thinking about a proper answer. “In truth, I believe she’s going to stay. They seemed to take a liking to one another.”

A satisfied hum was used as a response by the driver, and after a few moments of tranquility between the two, Sakusa spoke once more.

“I don’t understand why you’re getting involved in a non-existent romantic relationship that isn’t yours, Hinata.”

The ginger rolled his eyes, and focused back on the road. “It might be non-existent now, Sakusa, but I get the vibe that they’re eventually going to end up together.” His mood lightened up, and he began to grin.

“Why not help kickstart her future relationship?"

authors notes !

𐙚 sorry that this chapter was long ! i kinda just word vomitted , and stuck with it .

𐙚 reblogs are always appreciated !

𐙚 i hope you enjoyed this chapter , my beloved reader-chan ! <3

taglist: @reuka1 @enepsigosthelast @arwawawa2 @miruac

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kpopflowerfield · 3 months ago

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Upgrade | yjw

ღ pairing: ex-bf!jungwon x business worker fem! reader

ღ word count: 4k

ღ genre: angst, smut and fluff ending

ღ rating: nsfw, mdni

ღ networks: @k-vanity @k-library

ღ warnings: drinking, cussing, unprotected sex (wrap up), choking, dom! jungwon, tit worship, pet names (good girl,baby) oral (m. receiving), a spot of throat fucking, very rough sex

ღ summary: you and jungwon broke up a while ago, so why is he suddenly texting you at 2am?

↠ check out the rest of the tracklist here! ↞

Seven months. It's been seven months since you and Jungwon called it quits on your relationship and since you both decided non-contact was the best way to go since you were beyond heartbroken to end your relationship with him, but it wasn't with malice. You just got a new job offer, and he wasn't willing to leave his job and follow you to another country as you pursued your career. You were a numbers person, too; sixty percent do succeed long distance, but you wanted to avoid ending up relying on calls and texts to make it work; you needed skinship and intimacy, and you couldn't do that over a call.

It took you a while to have two feet on solid ground, but it was coming together. Your fancy new place abroad with your big title of account executive. Everything was running smoothly for you. That's why waking up in the middle of the night to a faint buzz from your nightstand left you confused about whether it was part of your dream. "Jungwon?" You mumbled, rubbing your eyes as if you were clearing them from debris and rereading the message.

Yang Jungwon: I don't mean to break the non-contact agreement we came up with, but I wanted to know if there was a way we could meet again. I just want to sit down and talk; I feel like we left on a sour note.

You rolled your eyes and placed your phone back down on your nightstand. You tried to fall back asleep but couldn't. The realization that Jungwon actually texted you out of the blue and asked to meet up kept you tossing and turning all night. You scratched your head as your alarm went off. You sat up and began debating, responding. But the no-contact you agreed on was already broken, so what was the harm?

Y/N: Hey, I'm willing to meet up if we want to have a simple conversation. On Thursday, I'll be in town for a presentation.

Yang Jungwon: Sounds perfect. Just tell me where to meet you.

You sent the address and thought for a moment. You did regret ending the relationship with him some days, but then the days when you worked from seven in the morning until eight at night came, and you didn't regret it. You wouldn't be able to have your relationship through text if you couldn't even pick up your phone to begin with. It wouldn't be fair to either of you to say you were dating when you would rarely get a chance to talk. Accepting his offer of seeing him again did feel right, though. Just being able to see his face again made your heart heat a little.

The three days in between his message and when you were getting on your flight passed by quickly. When you told Jungwon to meet you, part of you started to wonder if he would ghost you and not show. You sat down at the bar, looking around and ordering yourself a cocktail as you waited. "Y/N?" you heard that familiar voice calling your name as you turned and looked at him. The once obsidian-colored hair had changed into a honey blonde, but other than that, there were no changes to Jungwon that you could see. He sat down next to you, a faint smile on his face. "How have you been?" He questioned as you tucked a few strands of your hair behind your ear.

"I've been good," You nodded and took a sip of your drink. "Not much has changed. I've been traveling a lot. But that's the job," You smiled at him. "What's new with you?" You watched as he took a sip of the drink that he had ordered. "Not much. I'm still at the same job, but I can't complain. The only change I've made in the past seven months was my hair color," He ruffled his hair, trying to think. A silence crept over until you spoke up. "Can I ask you to do something?" You looked at him, a sudden seriousness twisted in your words that were friendly banter before as he nodded softly. "What?" He looked at you, trying not to overthink the change in your tone. You swallowed before you started. "I know there were a lot of lies before I left. Please don't lie to me. Do you hate me for ending it?" You looked over at him.

You never confronted him about the feelings he was hiding from you. You only found out when a few of his friends reached out to you, telling you that he looked lost without you, and it took a lot for him to smile genuinely. You could read the way he couldn't find the words to say; he didn't know that his friends went to you about how he was feeling, nor was he expecting you to remember to ask him months later. "Listen, there's not going to be anything you say that will make me look or feel a different way about you." You wanted to give him the chance to tell you how he felt about what happened, as you never gave him the opportunity before you left. "I did," He nodded, taking another sip. "But, I'm over it now. It makes sense to do what you did. I wasn't willing to move, and your job is too demanding, so keeping a stable relationship would be hard." He looked at you, a soft smile still gracing his lips as you nodded in response. His eyes never left you.

"You're so beautiful," He looked at you, studying every feature. You laughed at him, hearing the way his words subtly slurred. He was on his third Jack and Coke, so it was hard to take his words seriously. "I'm not kidding." His bottom lip stuck out as he pouted at you. "Yeah, yeah," You laughed at him again, finishing up your drink and ordering another. "I just need one more chance with you." He sighed; you stared at him, seeing him spaced out, and you didn't know how to respond. "What do you mean?" You questioned, taking a sip of your drink. "I mean one last chance. I miss you," He sighed. Your cheeks flushed as you listened to him. "I've missed you too," You confessed, your voice small as you said it out loud for the first time.

The last few words left awkwardness lingering over the two of you. Jungwon sighed a bit as he finished the water he switched to. "Well, it's getting late," He checked the time on his watch. "It was nice to see you," He smiled. "Maybe we'll see each other again?" You nodded a bit, feeling him put something under your hand that was resting on the bar. You watched him walk away and towards the elevator. You looked at the card he had slid under your hand, a bit puzzled as you were expecting him to walk out the door to go to his place and enjoy the night with some friends.

Jungwon: I truly meant one more chance, btw. I'm in room 1103

You stared at the message on your phone. You pursed your lips, thinking of what to do. You were drinking, so your judgment was clouded. But god, did he look good, even better than when you left. You put your hand over your face, rubbing your temples. 'Fuck it, it's just one night,' Your thought was loud and clear as you stood up and made your way to the elevator holding Jungwon's room key close.

You knocked on the door lightly and tapped the card, hearing the door unlock. "One more chance, right?" You looked at him so seductively, making his heart skip a beat. He wasn't actually sure if you'd come to the hotel room to see him. He also wasn't expecting to hear that tone of yours anytime soon, but he was delighted to see your face in front of him. "It was so hard not to take you up here on my own," His voice matched that sweet, seductive tone that you had as he backed you up against the door until he heard it click shut.

Your eyes were locked with his as he stared at you like you were going to be his last meal, his eyes darting around, reading your expression and studying every part of your body he was able to. His hand cupped your face as he kissed you. Hungrily biting your lip and pulling at it, you moaned softly. His hand traveled from your cheek to your throat. Your eyes widened with excitement as he put light pressure on your throat. A moan escaped your lips as he let go. "Fuck, Jungwon," You let out softly; it had been a while since you last felt him do that. It still turns you on every time, and by the look in his eyes as he does it, you can tell it still turns him on, too.

He let his hands travel down your sides until they were gripping your hips tightly. His wet, sloppy kisses traveled down your neck, his fingers teasing their way up your sides, sending shivers through your body as he stopped at the collar of your shirt, lightly tugging. "How about we take this off?" He teased as you nodded quickly. He pulled at the shirt, watching the buttons pop open as he pulled it off of your body. He stared at your chest. His eyes turned dark with lust as he saw that black-laced bra that he'd always loved. "You're so gorgeous, fuck baby,"

His hands moved to your back, grabbing the clasp to your bra as he leaned down and kissed you, his tongue playing with your bottom lip as you kissed him back. He tossed your bra somewhere in the room as he grabbed your tits, kneading them gently. Just his touch was enough for you to elicit a moan. The cool air from the AC he had blasting made your nipples harden. Jungwon smirked against your lips as he felt the pebbled flesh under his hands. He pinched your nipples lightly, making you gasp as he kissed down your body, taking your chest in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened peaks, and sucking on it lightly, his teeth grazing them, making your breath hitch. Your moans were quiet and breathy as he kissed your breasts. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he played with your pants, unbuttoning them.

You pushed them down, then pulled at the jacket he was wearing. He pushed it off, tossing it in the same direction as your bra. You pulled away from him, getting on your knees in front of him and pulling at the zipper of his pants. He unbuttoned them and pulled them down with his boxers. His cock was pointing straight towards your mouth, which began to salivate. "Be a good girl and suck it for me," He looked down at you as you stared into his eyes, not wanting to break eye contact with him. Your pussy was throbbing from the idea of having him again. You wrapped your hand around him, getting him as hard as you could before your lips parted, taking him in your mouth. The familiar taste of his salty precum met your tongue. You swirled your tongue around his sensitive head as he groaned.

Your head bobbed up and down as you slowly took more of him, letting him hit the back of your throat before you gagged, making saliva run down from the corners of your lips. "Careful baby, don't choke," He stammered, watching your plump lips take all of him that you could. He bit his lip, loving the feeling of your perfect mouth wrapped around him again. "God, I forgot how fucking good you are at this," His grunts covered up the noises of you slobbering all over his cock. His hand traveled to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he started to move your head on his own, using your pretty little mouth like a fuckhole for his pleasure. Tears welled in your eyes as you choked on him, gagging at the aggressiveness of the thrusts he was giving your mouth.

Your hands moved and grabbed his thighs, creating resistance from his thrusts into your mouth as he pulled out. "I forgot how good your mouth felt, baby; I didn't mean to do so much," His voice was gentle as you panted; your lips were swollen and glossy from the saliva that was previously wrapped around his cock. You nodded and looked at him, your eyes locked together. "I think I need you to remind me how good you fuck me," You smiled innocently as he stared hungrily into your doe eyes. "I think you need to get up then," He smirked, putting his hand out for you.

You took it as he carefully picked you up and off the ground. You followed his lead as he had you sit on the bed. He kissed you gently before holding your hips and turning you around. "Just like before, love, arch your back for me," He whispered in your ear from behind, making you shudder as you did as he said. Placing your forearms on the bed carefully and raising your ass in the air. His tip teased your soaking wet slit making your hips jerk backward, just wanting him inside without being teased. You heard a chuckle before your breath hitched, and you felt his cock burying deep inside your body.

Your walls clenched around him as he groaned, feeling your tight cunt adjust to his size. The deep, quick thrust was enough for you to cry out his name. Each thrust inside of you was desperate and hungry. He missed your pussy, and there was no denying it. His strokes never started or ended gently as his hips jackhammered into yours. "F-fuck Jungwon," You sobbed out at the intense pressure he was creating shockwaves go through your body. "Fuck, this pussy is so good," He continued with his erratic thrusts loving the sounds of you crying out for him and the feeling of your walls convulse around him. He grunted as his skin slapped against yours. You were gripped around his twitching cock as your body started to slump. "You gotta stay up for me, baby," He grabbed your hips, holding them up for himself. "It's just s-so much," You whimpered.

"J-jungwon," You stuttered as he smirked. "I love watching you take all of it so deep." He smacked your ass, sending a stinging pain through your body, making you whine out. "I love seeing it buried inside of you," He growled. Each stroke was sending you closer to your edge. "I-I'm so close," You sputtered as his relentless tempo didn't stop. Your walls were contracting against his rock-hard cock. "Cum for me, baby," His order sent shudders through your body as your moans grew louder from the brutal pace. You groaned as he buried his cock in you, making you hit your peak. He pulled out quickly, painting your back with his cum as he panted, pumping out everything he could. Your knees buckled as you collapsed on the bed, breathing hard.

You felt him get off the bed and go to the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and cleaning his mess off of you. You rolled over and looked at him. His eyes looked a bit heavy from the exhaustion of fucking your brains out. He pulled the covers back and laid down next to you, gesturing for you to cuddle up next to him.

You moved and placed your head on his chest as he looked at you. "One more chance, right?" He looked down at you as you laughed tiredly against his chest. "That's what I've missed about us. The connection we had. Not just sexually but emotionally as well," He played with your hair as you moved your head away from his chest to look at him. "I've missed you, and I really want you back in my life, Y/N; I really never stopped loving you. We've always just made sense together." You held your eyes shut for a moment, taking in what he was saying. "Are you confessing after fucking me?" Your demeanor changed as you moved your body off of his.

"Come on, Y/N, it has nothing to do with us fucking; I wanted to say that since I saw you at that bar, but I didn't want you to run off," He looked at you as he sat up. "No, Jungwon, we might have made sense in the past, but not anymore. We're on two different paths. You're happy here and don't want to leave. I'm happy to have new experiences in different countries and get paid to visit these places. That's why I broke up with you. It just doesn't make sense to torture ourselves with desperation, waiting for the chance to see each other whenever we have the chance."

Jungwon looked at you as you got out of bed. "Please, Y/N, we can make it work. I know it isn't as easy, but I beg you to at least try it with me. I know what you're worth. But if you'll be mine, we can keep the idea of us being long-distance optional." You shook your head at him. "Trust me, it was for the best that we split." You walked over to collect your clothes, which had been thrown off and scattered around the room. "Just keep it in mind, please," He sighed. You looked at him and bit the inside of your cheek. "I'll think about it," He nodded as you got yourself dressed. "Please do," He watched every movement you were making.

You reached into your pant pocket, took out the room key, and placed it on his nightstand. "Here's this, don't want to forget it," You chuckled as he looked at it. "Thanks. Wouldn't want to get a silly charge for a missing key," He stared at it and exhaled. "Well, I'm going to get going," You looked at him, seeing the hair sticking to his forehead, and smiled softly. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your night," You walked out and shut the door gently behind you.

You walked to your room and immediately sat down in your bed before pulling out your laptop and tweaking your presentation. You were confident about it but still wanted to make a few adjustments to make everything run smoothly for yourself. When you presented it, it seemed like your mind was elsewhere. Every point you had to make felt like some foreign concept you weren't even familiar with. The idea of doing a presentation like this and being able to text Jungwon right after and going home and being able to call him and hear his voice felt so comforting. Maybe it wasn't the end of the world to try long distance; he was your first love, and even though you denied it, there still is a connection between the two of you that won't fizzle away. Once the meeting was closed, you walked out quickly and pulled out your phone.

Y/N: You've been on my mind all day. Especially what you said, I fear that we'll rekindle and have another breakup, and even though I'm the one who initiated it, I was heartbroken. It took a few months for me to be myself again. It's nothing against you. I just want what's best for both of us. I was scared of the distance, and I thought breaking up was the best thing for me to do to keep both of us from hurting and giving myself a clean slate to work with when I moved. I do still love you. I'm just scared of hurting us again.

Jungwon: Let's meet again at the same hotel and at the same time. We can talk in person instead of sending texts.

You groaned to yourself. It was easier to say the words over messages than in the moment where you had to come up with the words right there on the spot. You wanted to be able to think before every word that you wanted to say to him, but he was better with words in person than over text. It felt silly to try and argue with your side of wanting to send messages. You held your head but then let him know that you were willing to meet him. You paced around your room for a few moments before you walked down to the hotel bar, at the time you agreed to meet, and waited for him. You ordered yourself a drink, deciding to stick to water this time, not wanting to end up in bed with him again before being able to finish your conversation.

"Hey, stranger," He smiled at you cheerfully as he sat down next to you. "Hey," You smiled softly, watching him as he ordered himself a drink. "So you wanted to talk?" You looked at him as he nodded. "What made you text all of that?" He questioned as you took a sip of the water. "You told me to think of it as optional, and I wanted to explain why I'm not sure if I could even consider it an option," You avoided eye contact with him. Not wanting to look him in the eye as you confessed. "Listen, Y/N," He reached to your hand that rested on the bar and held it carefully.

"I'm not rushing anything," His voice was gentle. "I just love you, and I need you to know that. I want to give us another chance. I'm willing to make the move to be with you and have you by my side. I know I don't have to move, but seriously, Y/N, if you'll be mine…" He seemed to trail off as you stared at his hand. "Well, keep it optional," You laughed lightheartedly, repeating what he said just a day before.

You smiled softly, hearing his light giggle. "I'm sorry," he let go of your hand softly. "I really shouldn't have brought you down here to keep begging for a relationship that you don't want." He moved his hand away from you and closer to himself as you quickly grabbed it yourself. You held his hand tightly. "Are you actually willing to move to be with me?" You raised an eyebrow at him as he nodded quickly. "I would do anything to have a chance to be with you again." He looked at you, his eyes filled with admiration. "Y/N," He started.

"Listen, Jungwon, I know I've sounded negative, but I have realized that I missed you, and sitting here with you has been my favorite thing for the past two days. I'm willing to try long distances with you, but I don't want to make you move away for the sake of keeping me. That wasn't fair to you," You cut him off, expressing your thoughts that you were holding onto. He smiled at you, a sparkle in his eyes. "I'm willing to move with you. Wherever you go, I'm coming too." You looked at him, surprised, as he grinned. "Whenever and wherever we end up, I want to be with you. I love you, Y/N," He took your hand and kissed it as you smiled at him. "I love you, Jungwon, but I feel awful making you give up where you're comfortable just to be with me," He quickly shushed you and smiled. "I'm thinking of it as an upgrade in our relationship. Seven months is a lot longer than it seems, and I would say that we both have grown." You leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I like that idea," a blush crept onto your cheeks as you smiled at him.

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yumeka-sxf · 2 years ago

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Seems like this chapter just about wrapped up the Mole Hunt arc. I decided to analyze a bit more than I usually do with my chapter reviews since there was a lot to talk about on the Twiyor front!

When Fiona questioned Twilight about not killing Yuri, he gave his official "for the mission" reason, but slipped up by calling Yor "Yor-san" instead of "Yor Briar." This made it obvious to Fiona (who already knows about him softening) that he's trying desperately hard to cover up those feelings. Even though this would have been a good opportunity for her to imply that she's a better fit for the wife role, she doesn't even try because she knows Twilight would defend "Yor-san" in every subtle way he could.

When he gets home and finds out that Yor doesn't actually have gripes with him, he's relieved of that last load of stress and is finally able to relax, causing him to collapse (similar to the very first chapter when he collapsed after Anya passed the Eden entrance exam). After he realizes how utterly exhausted he is, he can't help but ask Yor to help out with his housework.

Her reply is what really makes everything sink in for him - despite all his attempts to be a flawless spy, she doesn't want him to be that way. She's happy when she can be useful to him and thinks it's bad if he pushes himself to be perfect all the time.

And yet, that's exactly what he has to be in order to survive as a spy. The fact that he had to ask someone for help with simple housework, plus someone telling him that he doesn't have to be perfect, made him recall the feeling he had when he looked into Wheeler's eyes...that he lives in a world where you have to be perfect in order to survive, and having any kind of weakness just won't due.

While Twilight continues to be clueless about Fiona's feelings for him among other things, what he does realize at the end of this arc is his own feelings - that he does have a weakness. He's beginning to understand more than ever that a spy can't afford to be anything but perfect. And yet, his refusal to kill Yuri, which is a result of him caring about Yor (even though he gave Fiona his usual "for the mission" reason, she saw right through it) is conflicting him even more.

I also have to point out how considerate Yor was of Loid's exhaustion - she completely pushed Yuri away, even after noticing he was injured. She didn't even invite him to stay and have tea with them!

What Twilight was about to say to Yor (in his mind) before Yuri interrupted is debatable, but going by his previous line of thought, it was probably something bittersweet like "which is why...once Operation Strix is over, I'll have to leave the Forgers" or possibly something more immediate, where he now realizes how compromised he truly is and so might reconsider the stipulations of Operation Strix even before it's over. Though I think it's more of the former since his thoughts in the shower in the next scene make it seem like he's not ready to do anything drastic yet, but the idea is still gnawing at him.

Fiona had noticed his leaking emotions way back when she was first introduced, but this is the first time Twilight himself is realizing it and not denying it. Whether anything major will change in his actions from now on is yet to be seen. Will there be another aftermath chapter or two with Twilight still being jostled by this realization? Or will things go back to normal now and he'll brush those feelings aside for another day? It seems like Yuri has been totally thrown off the scent, so his identity should be safe for the time being. Will Anya get to read his mind the next morning and finally find out everything that happened? The next new chapter won't be out for another 4 weeks, so brace yourself for a grueling wait!

#spy x family #spy family #sxf #spyxfamily #loid forger #yor forger #twiyor #sxf manga #sxf manga spoilers #sxf spoilers

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aithusarosekiller · 4 months ago

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Why Jegulus would actually work with their (barely existent) canon personalities:

This isn't a place for a debate so literally don't bother, I'm just trying to articulate to appeal to the 'iT maKEs No seNsE' crowd because while I don't care about canon, some Jegulus haters don't respect you unless you worship it so

First: James' benefit from it-

To begin with, you have the superiority complex. As much as fans (and Sirius) like to say that Sirius immediately saw through his parents' beliefs when he was born and was a perfect activist from infancy, this is not true. First of all it's highly improbable and much more likely that he told that sort of tale that in order to convince himself and Harry that he was always good, but he isn't and we see that. He is progressive but he still treats Kreacher incredibly poorly, he uses oppressed creatures as jokes and sees no issue with it (yeah, canon-worshippers, sorry but in PoA there is no remorse for the prank, he laughs about it proudly) so he would have had to grow out of most of the behaviours he did have when he was sorted. He would carry some leftover beliefs from his family that James and the others had to help him unlearn. He would be willing to of course but it was still work. Why on earth would James not have reason to think 'I can do it again! They were raised in the same house they're practically the same.' Sirius had described his brother as weak and idiotic so James sees it as an easy win for his ego and the worth of his name, maybe even in Lily’s eyes.

And even when he falls in love and realises he may not be able to change them? Canonically? James wouldn't care. Not before he was 17 at least. He only ever relies on equality when it matters to him. They bully for no reason but target Snape a lot anyway, they already hate him when James sees the opportunity to stand up for Lily, speaking over her wishes instead of with her. He seems more intent on humiliating Snape and making a scene than actually fixing any issues. He's never truly evil but he's not a perfect virtuous angel. So him staying with someone who's morals are compromised wouldn't feel evil to him, he still thinks he's great and perfect, he just loves people who aren't. Let teenage James be morally grey, it's all he ever has been. It would give a pretty cool exploration of his growing maturity in the later school years. There's no real explanation for it apart from 'well it worked for him getting Lily' (which I hate, he nastily jokes about dating her infront of a crowd in exchange for not physically assaulting her friend and then she marries him? Give them more fucking depth than that, it reminds me of too many creeps I know) so it would be kind of cool to explore what could have set him off down the path of becoming a better person. Maybe age or outside pressure but I like the idea of him having a personal relationship that helped him to grow. He's with someone he can never be open to the public with and it's eating away at him because technically he should call it off but he doesn't bloody want to. When it ends, it's all too much and he chooses to flip his life over. He realises how Lily must have felt having Severus turn around on her and force her to leave him; he looks at the war and social climate with more integrity. He begins to change for the better in response to this upheaval of his life and his heartbreak. Also regulus gave him that snitch he was playing with and nobody can convince me he didn't.

Now for Regulus:

The betrayal is the obvious one, he'd always been tentative and naive according to Sirius. Sirius is under the impression he would've just tried to run when it got scary and we can assume he just misjudged him but wouldn't it be interesting if somebody was there to help him embrace his courageous, reckless side? If James sat there whispering words of victory and bravery to him, planting the seeds for his later rebellion? It could also have begun to place seeds of doubt in his mind surrounding the death eaters, even if they did not come to fruition until later. Even if you think he only changed due to Kreacher being hurt, the disproportionate response of sacrificing his entire life over it in some grand display of power is SO JAMES of him.

Then there's the opportunity to explore him on a more personal level. Who is he outside of his family? Was the locket the only secret betrayal or were there more? How does this impact his relationship with Sirius, regardless of him knowing of it or not? It adds even more layers to the meaning of his name and it helps to explore his own doubts before they are ever apparent to his family. James would likely not feel a sense of betrayal in not telling Sirius due to his ego and the fact that British teen boys are just like that™️ with their friend groups. But would Regulus? He would likely feel guilt anyway, but towards his brother? Did he still see him as a family member, as someone worth telling things to, as someone James belonged to? Well never know the canonical answers to this and that's why it's so FUN to explore. The layers to the secrecy and hope in their relationship is amazing.

What are his lingering feelings like after it ended? Hatred, regret, jealousy? And for James- guilt, sorrow, crushed hope?

The timelines add up too- the mark, James growing more mature, the snitch and the bullying of Snape.

And if your argument is 'they're not gay' tell me what makes you think that. Their personality? There isn't one 'way' to be gay. Prejudices? You think gay people are born holding a rainbow flag and chanting peace and love? So may gay ppl are vile to other marginalised groups. James married a woman? Bi people exist.

You don't have to like it, but don't say it makes no sense becuase it can and neither do half of your hcs about wolfstar and the prank and James' sunshine personality and how perfect jily were

#jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #marauders era #regulus black #james potter

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justastraymoa · 6 months ago

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ADVENTURES WITH CHEESE EXTENDED EDITION PT 7

The air was thick in the apartment today. It started when Bin came home in a bad mood. He nearly slammed the door closed and even left his shoes in a pile by the door instead of putting them away properly like he usually does.

He brushed Cheeses affectionate hellos away and passed by me in the living room without a word before closing his bedroom door and locking it audibly.

I chewed on my lip staring at his door for a minute debating on whether I should offer any help or leave him be. In the end the locked door was a clear sign that he wanted to be left alone.

I gave Cheese some extra scritches when he came up on the couch with a questioning meow. He wasn’t used to being ignored by anyone in this household. And Bin was just downright cold to him. Poor baby’s feelings were hurt.

The other 3 came home together not long after. Bin was still in his room and besides a few clunks and noises of life from inside the room he had been quiet.

“He is here! What the fuck!” Lino snapped flinging a hand towards the sloppily discarded shoes Bin left in the doorway.

Chan grabbed the shoes and put them where they belonged without a word. His face was a blank mask, very unlike him. You could usually read his emotions on his face if you knew how to look properly. He had long since stopped trying to hide when he was in the apartment, instead letting the rest of us in to help him when he needed it. Something I was very proud of him for. Showing vulnerability and asking for help is very hard. Especially for Chan who was leader and felt he had to be perfect and take care of everyone else before himself.

Hyune was also quiet, but his emotions showed well. He was down. His eyes looked dull with exhaustion and sadness. He walked around a still mumbling Lino and beelined for me on the couch.

Without a word he curled up next to me and hid his face in my stomach, wrapping his arms around my waist tightly. I gently started playing with his hair, dragging my nails lightly along his scalp and petting soothingly down his neck and spine.

I looked up at Chan as he set his stuff down and settled in. “What happened? You guys okay?”

He sighed heavily. “Yeah, we are fine. It was just a really bad day.”

Lino stalked past and went to his room slamming his door closed behind him. I flinched at the sound and Cheese crouched close to the floor and scurried under the chair.

“I’ll order dinner in. Any requests?” I pulled my phone out with my free hand, keeping the other one moving in Hyunes hair. His arms were relaxed around my waist now, so hopefully playing with his hair was helping.

Chan passed by and kissed the top of my head affectionately. “Not really. Whatever sounds good to you is fine. Thank you, y/n.”

I ended up ordering enough BBQ to feed 10 of us. BBQ felt like a good comfort food to have today.

When the food arrived Hyune was sleeping on my lap, Bin and Lino were still in their rooms, and Chan was puttering around the house picking at things and doing chores that didn’t really need to be done, just to stay busy.

Chan moved to open the door and Hyune nuzzled into my stomach sleepily, the doorbell having woken him from his nap. “Time for dinner, hun.” I told him quietly gently rubbing his back to help keep him from falling back asleep. He hummed but didn’t open his eyes or make a move to get up.

“Help me set up, Hyunjin.” Chan ordered from the kitchen.

The sleepy man in my lap groaned but sat up slowly. I patted him on the back before getting up to get the others from their room.

I started with Bin, who I hoped had time enough to decompress now. Knocking gently, I called that dinner was ready through the door. There was an affirmative noise on the other side, so I moved on to Linos’s door.

It swung open before I could knock making me jump a foot in the air and clutch my chest like some swooning maiden. “Dammnit Lino, you scared the crap out of me!”

“Dinners ready. Yeah, I heard.” Lino intoned before slipping past me.

I sighed deeply. This was going to be a fun night. Not.

I’m glad everyone seemed to be in a better mood today. They seemed to be able to shake off whatever funk they got themselves into and were now back to normal. Well normal for them at least.

I really was absolutely sure that Cheese was attacking Lino because Lino scared him when he slammed the door. I wouldn’t be shocked if he attacked Bin too for ignoring him.

And I was not about to tell Chan that I had gotten in contact with his sister, and we had a very long message chain filled with embarrassing pictures and stories. Also, useful things like recipes from his childhood I could make him when he needed it. Things he wouldn’t feel the need to tell anyone because he was always the one taking care of everyone else.

We all had a few days off coming up. How our days off lined up is unknown. It’s a downright miracle. And we all agreed that we planned on doing absolutely nothing but hang around the apartment and chill.

Chan was hanging out with some other friends and Lino was making a trip home to see everyone while he had time.

I was hanging in my room. I repotted some of the plant Cheese destroyed that I got to grow roots again. This time I put it in a more secure location so Cheese would not get into it. The poor thing had been through enough trauma.

Speaking of Cheese. I looked around the room for him, suddenly realizing I hadn’t seen him for a while. It was unlike him, but maybe he was hanging with someone else. I was sure Hyune was here, but I wasn’t sure about Bin.

Cheese liked to curl up on Hyunes lap while he painted sometimes. So maybe that is where he was. I pulled my phone out from the covers where I threw it earlier and pulled up our group chat. I didn’t feel like shouting through the apartment and shattering the peace we had going on.

While I waited for everyone to respond I started walking around the apartment looking in all Cheeses usual sleeping spots. All the places he liked to hide, even in the bedrooms of Chan and Lino. Chan’s bed was his new favorite place to sleep. With Chans insomnia he was up when no one else was for pets and cuddles. He took advantage of that.

Bin and Hyune came out of their rooms almost immediately after it was confirmed no one had Cheese. Hyune went around the apartment checking the same spots I did, just to make sure I didn’t miss him.

Bin came over to me and pulled me into a hug, rubbing my back in comfort as I quickly lost control of my breathing and started tearing up.

This wasn’t happening again! I couldn’t go a night without knowing if he was okay again, I barely made it the first time!

And it was so much more dangerous around here than it was at our old place. There was more foot traffic than car traffic at our old apartment. And I knew of several people in that neighborhood that fed the stray cats that roamed around catching mice and rats.

Here no one liked stray cats. I had witnessed people kicking some of the ones who came around occasionally. It absolutely broke my heart then, and now they could be doing it to Cheese! My baby Cheese!

A/N: and the angst starts as our favorite troublemaker goes missing!

Thank you for reading and interacting. One or both, doesn’t matter, I appreciate it all.

I hope you enjoyed it. See you next time! 😉

Skz + pets masterlist

Taglist: @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor

#stray kids #skz stay #skz fake texts #skz fanfic #stray kids fake texts #stray kids smau #stray kids texts #skz smau #3racha #bang chan #adventures with cheese #chan bang #hyunjin skz #hyunjin stray kids #minho the cat whisperer #skz minho #lee know #changbin skz #changbin stray kids

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oakantony · 9 months ago

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Yes, Chef

A completely uncalled for Hisoillu Chick-Fil-A AU. I honestly have no idea. Maybe I'll put it on AO3 one day idek. (It's in progress. Enjoy the rough draft.)

tws for this part include: neglect, financial abuse, verbal abuse, homophobia, ableism

future tws for this story will eventually include: canon-typical violence, explicit sex, possibly the raunchiest handjob i've ever written in my life

Enjoy!

It didn’t matter how accurately Illumi wrote the quarterly reports, how perfectly he arranged the weekly schedules, or how precisely he ordered supplies--his father would always fuck it up and leave Illumi there, alone, to clean up the mess.

In this case, literally.

His 15-year-old brother, Killua--middle child of the family and now shortest-lasting employee of their fast-food empire--had completely trashed the kitchen before giving his father, and Illumi, the middle-finger. “I quit,” he said as he stormed away. “Don’t expect to see me at home, either. I’m quitting this bullshit family, too.”

For some reason, Illumi believed him this time. Maybe it was the enormous backpack he carried with all his essentials--packed like he truly meant to move away. Maybe it was the new friend he’d found last month, whom he claimed had a bed big enough for the two of them to share. Maybe it was because Illumi, deep down, understood the sentiment.

Hm, no. Not that last part. Never that last part.

Illumi was loyal to his family until the end. How else was he meant to live? The vast fortune belonging to the Zoldyck family awaited him--so long as he continued to manage the business.

“He’ll come around,” said Silva in a gravelly, too-certain tone. He adjusted his suit jacket, looking perfect and statuesque despite everything. “He’s just in those hellish teen years.” He placed an enormous hand upon Illumi’s shoulder as a farewell and started to walk away, his long white hair swaying in a braid.

“Wait,” said Illumi. He swept a hand over the overturned prep station, the spilled jugs of peanut oil, and the broken dish sprayer dripping water down the side of the stainless steel cabinets. “We open in twenty minutes, do not have our pre-prep, and now we are down a cook.”

Silva raised one silver eyebrow. “I’ve trained all of my children to handle this. So handle it.”

He departed, checking his phone almost idly, utterly unconcerned. The pink sky of dawn winked through the door’s gap briefly before it sealed shut. Click.

Illumi hadn’t worked a fryer in almost six years. He took a deep breath and tied his long, straight, black hair into a high ponytail at the top of his head. He would have to net it before cooking, but this was fine for now. He’d debated cutting it many times previously--

But his father had long hair, and there seemed to be some sort of unwritten pride in maintaining hair like this even in a setting that would make short hair…simpler. And Illumi would do whatever it took to make his father proud.

Perhaps working the kitchen today will feel nostalgic, like back when I was a teen, he thought as he began to clean the kitchen. Quickly, efficiently, and well enough that most wouldn’t even be able to tell it’d been nearly destroyed. His first employee came in whistling, oblivious to the issues.

“Good morning, Canary,” said Illumi.

“Hi, boss,” she replied, bowing her head in greeting. She looked at the mop he held and across the kitchen, which was back to square zero--almost.

“Will you prep?”

“Oh no. Did the evening guys forget?”

“No,” said Illumi. “My little brother was meant to start his first ever shift this morning. Instead, he destroyed the kitchen.”

“Killua?” she asked, head tilted.

“That is correct.”

She hissed through her teeth in sympathy. “Yeah, I’ll get on that. Does that mean we’re down a man?”

“Do not worry. I will work the fryer today so that Amane will help take orders.” His watch trilled in warning. Sixty seconds before the doors open for the morning. He began to list off the things they needed: “Onions, tomatoes--lettuce is already shredded, but we need it pulled out from the walk-in--”

“Yes, yes. I got it, Mr. Zoldyck. You go check the front of house.” She held her hand out to take the mop. “I’ve done pre-prep at least a hundred times. I got the list memorized.”

The tightness Illumi didn’t even realize he had between his ribs began to loosen, allowing him to breathe in deep. Relieved. “Thank you. I appreciate you.” He would have to remember this moment when it came time for promotions next month--Canary was more than deserving of the assistant manager role. By the time he thought to say as much to her, however, a line of SUVs materialized very suddenly around the brown brick building, and several parents were standing at the doors.

Later, he noted to himself. He would tell her later.

He unlocked the door, held it open, and greeted, “Welcome to Chick-Fil-A.”

“Thanks,” said a particularly harried-looking mother as she stepped inside, holding the hand of a toddler covered in what Illumi hoped was dried chocolate.

“My pleasure,” he replied.

“It’s too bad you’re usually stuck at the front with customers, because you’re really good at this, actually,” said Gotoh. “I forget sometimes that you worked in the kitchen for years before taking over as manager.”

The timer chimed, alerting him that the chicken breasts were done cooking. “Father starts all of his children off as fry cooks,” said Illumi, deftly lifting the basket out of the pressure fryer. “This is a much simpler job than balancing books.”

Gotoh chuckled as he placed another tray of battered breasts aside Illumi, ready for the basket and fryer. “And you prefer cooking?”

Illumi watched the cooked chicken tumble into the shiny silver container and pondered the question. “No,” he said. “I prefer strategizing. My ideas are better than my food.”

“We don’t ever really use original ideas,” Gotoh pointed out. They had a set menu of items with some seasonal pulls and, on occasion, test products that came down from corporate. No one manager would have power enough to exact real change.

He knew as much. It didn’t stop him from scribbling restaurant concepts in the office after business closed, considering the popularity of certain items, the cost of ingredients--it was almost like a puzzle, but a creative and original one. “It is just idle thinking. Nothing I would ever do in reality.”

Silva had made that abundantly clear during their last conversation on the topic. Illumi glanced up to the dented stainless cabinet door to the left of Gotoh, fist-shaped. It almost seemed to wink at him in cruel memory. Illumi still needed to get someone to come out to do that repair. City inspectors pointed it out on their last sweep; technically a dent didn’t break any laws, but visible damage in the building did pull their ranking from A+ to simply A.

Illumi changed into a new pair of gloves and began to prepare the next batch of chicken breasts. “After I drop these, will you wait for the timer? I need to check our applications.”

“Of course,” said Gotoh. “You managed to fill in on the fryer and post a job listing already?” He turned to look at the big digital clock over the kitchen door. “It’s not even one PM yet. You’re damn efficient.”

“That is what I am paid to do. Be efficient.” He lowered the basket into the fryer and made quick work of fastening the latch.

Gotoh chuckled. “You know, there’re rumors you and Milluki don’t even get paid for working at your father’s restaurants.”

“That would be ridiculous,” said Illumi. “And illegal.”

“Oh, I know,” said Gotoh. “Your father wouldn’t do something so disrespectful anyway.”

“Indeed.” Illumi got paid biweekly, just like everyone else. His checks were directly deposited into the family’s shared account. While he didn’t have his own card to use, his mother made sure to give him a handful of twenties each week as "spending money." It seemed fair enough; the rest of his income was likely used to pay the family's many bills. The allowance he was given was generous, really, considering he got to stay in his childhood bedroom rent-free. Not that he had much choice. He'd talked briefly about moving out a few years back and his mother burst into tears almost immediately--

He was going to be thirty next year. He would broach the topic then. Probably.

He pulled off his gloves and headed towards the manager’s office. “I will be back in twenty.”

“Take your time,” Gotoh called back without turning around.

His feet ached, his stomach growled in hunger, and sweat covered him head to toe, but Illumi nonetheless arrived at the isolated booth at exactly the correct time to interview the only real candidate he’d been able to find for the fry position in the last twelve hours. Already the qualified stranger sat, eating a complimentary order of fries.

Illumi took a minute to catch his breath, appreciating the soft plastic cushion beneath his seat. He actually had yet to sit today. He’d just hauled an enormous bag of trash to the dumpster, alone, and he’d nearly been crushed under the weight of used paper trays and styrofoam cups as exhaustion made his arms twinge and shake. “Hello,” he said, only slightly winded. “I am Illumi Zoldyck. Manager.”

“Hello. Long day, I see,” came the low, teasing voice of--?

Illumi looked down at the paperwork he snagged. Hisoka Morow. “My day has been fine,” he said, nearly believing it. “Busy. But fine.”

“Funny,” said Hisoka. “Mine has been exactly the opposite. Slow, but terrible. I’ve never been so bored in my life. Please hire me, if only to give me something to do.”

Illumi looked up, surprised, and took in Hisoka for the first time.

He was severe-looking, but unusually handsome still, with an angular face, doll-like smooth skin, and vividly pink hair. “We do not employ cooks with unnatural hair colors.” He took his pen, slashed through Hisoka’s name, and began to stand up. “Thank you for coming in.”

“That’s no problem,” Hisoka said, holding out a hand to stop Illumi from departing too quickly. “I read the rules linked in the listing. I wouldn’t’ve come here to waste your time, I assure you. I’m happy to wear a hat.” He shrugged. “I’ll cut it, too, if you insist.”

Illumi narrowed his eyes at Hisoka, giving him another once-over. He was clean-shaven--and clean in general, which counted in his favor. In fact, as Illumi lowered back into his seat, he realized Hisoka smelled very good. Fresh, warm, and a little sweet. It was a subtle scent--he’d not bathed in cologne like some interviewees of the past. “Very well. Your resume says you have extensive experience on the line at Revere.”

“An understatement made purely for legal reasons,” Hisoka said. “I was the sous.”

Illumi slowly lowered his pen to the paper, glaring at Hisoka in complete disbelief.

“It’s true,” said Hisoka. “I’m not allowed to include it in my credentials because of some, hm… issues with the chef there.”

Illumi tilted his head in thought. “Chrollo Lucilfer.”

“Oh, you know him.”

“K City is not that big. I know all the restaurateurs. They are our competitors.”

Hisoka laughed, and loudly.

Illumi bristled and said, “I do not know what is so funny.”

“The idea of corporate--industrial--large scale fast food fried chicken considering itself in competition against one of the most elite Italian fine dining restaurants in the country is--” Hisoka’s smile turned catty. Sharp. “Quite unfair. It has a Michelin Star.”

Illumi was silent, mostly in shock, for a moment. And then he said, coolly, “Our business serves an average of 2,491 customers per day and earns upwards of eight million dollars per year. At this location alone.” Illumi tapped Hisoka’s resume with the end of his pen. “By my estimations, Revere earned a profit of under 1.2 million last year, and is slated for even less by the end of this one, and Lucilfer works in his kitchen every single night, 365 days per year, and has done so for thirty months so far. If you add the other stores in our portfolio, the Zoldyck business nets profit at almost ten million total without my father ever having to step foot inside these four walls. And we’re closed on Sundays.”

Hisoka blinked in a way that made it apparent he was tallying the numbers Illumi just shared. “You’ve done your research.”

Illumi continued, undisturbed, “You are right. It is rather unfair for me to compare Chick-Fil-A to Revere. We are not in competition.”

Hisoka slowly sank in his seat, a smirk growing on his face. He placed his chin into his hand and glanced Illumi up and down, as if reading the blue-striped polo uniform. “Interesting. Tell me--are you forced to wear the khakis, or is that something you’ve opted to do for yourself?”

Illumi stood up and wasn’t interrupted this time. He ripped the resume in two as he backed away from the table, words like ice. “This interview is over. You will not be offered the position. Thank you for your time.”

Hisoka called after him, voice a suggestive purr, “My pleasure, Illumi.”

Illumi stood in the doorway of his room, staring. Numb. The smell of burnt oil, of salt, of car exhaust lingered in his hair, under his nails; permeating him so entirely that he felt inhuman. He was, instead, a piece of sentient furniture from Chick-Fil-A. And he was so tired that he contemplated skipping the shower just to pass out (and clean his sheets the next day).

But there was a problem with that plan. With any plan.

His door was gone.

“You’re going to stand there for how long, exactly?” said Milluki, his younger brother. Second oldest of the kids. Manager of the Byren neighborhood Chick-Fil-A--an under-performing, but still meticulously maintained, store. “You’re gonna have to go talk to them eventually.”

“You say, ‘them.’” Illumi turned to look at Milluki, all too aware that his dark circles and pale-sweaty skin made him look nearly sick. He had been awake for close to twenty two hours and pulled a double shift. “Mother and father both removed the door?”

“Maybe. I heard them talking.” Milluki took a slow sip of the iced tea he’d brought home from the shop. “Said they were mad you didn’t already have a replacement fry cook, or something.” He shrugged. “Really, they’re just mad about Killua, but he’s not here to be mad at.”

Illumi looked at his empty doorway. Half a hinge hung off the corner, bent from when his father must have wrenched the door away earlier. This wasn’t a rare punishment in their household. If a child behaved poorly, they got their door taken away. No privacy, at least until they served time for their crime. “I am to be punished for not posting a listing, finding a replacement, and placing him on the schedule by closing time.”

“Sounds like it,” said Milluki. “You really couldn’t find someone?”

Hisoka’s hot pink hair flashed in his mind, and then his feline smile, and his--wait, what color were his eyes? Illumi couldn’t recall. Eventually, he said, “No.”

“I don’t think you’re gonna have a door until you hire the role. Or until Killua comes back.”

Illumi took a deep, steadying breath, and headed to his parents’ bedroom to listen to their complaints. And while his father berated him, shouting insults about his lack of focus--his patience being mistaken for fear--his affection for his staff being mistaken for condescension--his beautiful appearance being mistaken for vanity--

Illumi stared at his door, propped up on the far wall of his parents’ bedroom. It covered one of their windows, but they had several more in this wing of the fancy “McMansion” they had built after Illumi was born.

“I won’t stand for your distraction,” Silva said with an air of finality. “Today’s failure is about your attraction to men. Isn’t it?”

Illumi blinked wide-eyed at his father. “I am sorry?”

“You’re gay, aren’t you?” his mother asked from the bed where she was tucked beneath the covers. “We’ve been discussing it. You’ve never liked a girl. Not ever. It’s because you’re gay.”

“And now your preferences are getting in the way of your judgment.”

This was so far out of left field that it took Illumi a moment to gather himself enough to say, “I am not gay.”

“Don’t you lie to me.”

“I am not,” he repeated. “I simply have not had time to pursue a relationship.”

His father threw his hands into the air, exasperated. “Oh, so now it’s my fault you’ve never gotten laid. I’m a monster, giving you a good job, at a good establishment, making good food. Yes, I’m a fucking nightmare parent.” He pointed one large, well-manicured finger into Illumi’s face, and hissed, “You have no idea how lucky you are that you were born into this family. That your whole life has been served to you on a silver fucking platter.”

“I know,” Illumi said. “I am very grateful.”

“So don’t bullshit me on your utter lack of a social life.”

Illumi looked over at his mother and saw her flexing her jaw impatiently. Eventually, the connection between today’s failures and his sexual preferences bloomed, fully-formed, in his mind. “Oh. This is because Killua moved in with his best friend.” Pause. “His gay, male best friend.”

“No. This is about you,” Silva said.

“You are wondering about all of your children, now. Whether or not we’re also gay. Did you inquire with Milluki?”

“Milluki has a girlfriend,” his mother said, shrilly. “Online. He’s our only son that we know, for certain, isn’t queer.”

She wasn’t using the word the proper way, Illumi thought. It wasn’t a reclaimed term representing a community of different people. She meant it as an insult. “I do not have time to date,” Illumi repeated. And immediately amended, “I have not made time.”

“Well, I’ll tell you this,” Silva said, stalking closer. “If you ever bring a man anywhere close to this house, you’ll lose more than your door. Do you understand?”

Illumi lowered his head. “Yessir.”

“And hire a fucking fry cook by the end of the week. Don’t make me ask again.”

Inside the kitchen, a timer chimed from above and below. The roar of voices--chatting, taking orders, requesting items--pressed in from all sides. Distantly, two car horns honked.

Illumi pulled the fry basket and dumped the cooked chicken into the container and hissed as a splatter of hot grease grabbed him around the wrist. The handle to the fryer slipped from his fingers and clattered to the brown tiled floor, hand spasming in pain.

Another timer. More voices. Another honk.

“Mr. Zoldyck? Hey--Mr. Zoldyck?” He ignored the burning, pulsing pain and kneeled down to scoop the handle from beneath the cabinet where it’d slid away. “Illumi!”

He stood up, hair falling free of its net, and came face-to-face with Amane. “Yes.”

“We’ve got a complaint. She wants to speak with the manager.”

Illumi looked at the fryer, the alarm continuing to chime. “It will be a minute--”

“She’s throwing quite the fit, sir--”

There was a loud clatter--the sound of a tray hitting the tiled floors in the dining room--and an ear-piercing scream that Illumi knew, as the eldest of five children, belonged to an infant.

Amane reached out to take the fryer basket handle. “I’ll take care of the food. Go ahead.”

Illumi shook his head to clear it--he felt dazed, still. Foggy from a lack of decent sleep. The real issue with not having a door was that his enormous family’s sleep schedules all varied, so he was shocked awake only an hour or two after he finally was able to fall asleep last night.

“Mr. Zoldyck, your hair--” Amane said.

Illumi reached up and found the hair net caught around his left ear. He tugged it free and threw it, and his gloves, in the trash. He strode through the kitchen, to the dining room, and was able to find the offending woman very easily.

“It’s an allergy!” she shrieked. “An allergy! I told you she had an allergy and now my child has puked, and if you fucking retards think I’m cleaning that up, you have another thing coming!”

The infant, Illumi noticed, was wailing alone several feet away. Red-faced and trembling in her little red mary janes. "Mamamama," she sobbed.

Illumi approached the woman with one hand outstretched, directing her away from the cashiers. “I am very, very sorry for your experience.”

The mother's rant stopped as she found herself surrounded by Illumi’s tall, unusual presence. “What?”

Without missing a beat, Illumi also managed to scoop the child up, off the floor, and into his embrace. She was small enough that he could hold her with one arm. Her child’s shrieking stopped--almost immediately. The tension inside the restaurant broke, finally. Several patrons breathed out in relief.

Illumi patted the baby sweetly upon her leg and she stared at him with a wet face, frozen in childlike awe. She sniffed and Illumi produced a napkin--branded, of course, with the iconic chicken silhouette--and wiped her nose with the practiced ease of a five-time big-brother. He said to her mom, “I will comp your meal while you have a seat.” He gestured to the only available booth, walked her there, and handed the child into her arms.

“Well, I’m not cleaning that mess.” The woman stiffly pointed to a watery pile of debris that had already been blocked off by a caution sign.

“We would not expect you to,” Illumi said.

“Oh. Well. Good.”

While the restaurant went back to normal, Illumi felt truly exhausted. “In addition to your refund, you have received a ban. We will take your image from security footage and if you enter this establishment again, you will be escorted out. And if necessary, I will press charges for trespassing.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are not allowed to call my employees fucking retards without consequence.” He looked at her daughter. “Your baby is welcome whenever she would like--as soon as she is old enough to come without you.”

He escorted her to her bright red SUV and when she sarcastically said, “Thanks a lot,” he responded very sincerely in return.

“My pleasure.”

His back twinged in pain as he sat in the manager’s seat in the office--closet, really, with a desk--and scrolled through security footage to find a clear image of the newly banned patron. He found her, easily--and something else he hadn’t been looking for.

A flash of hot pink hair, a fanged grin, and a handshake.

With Gotoh?

Illumi watched as Hisoka walked with Gotoh out the far side door of the restaurant. He took a deep breath, printed off the saved image of the woman, and stormed out to the parking lot where Gotoh parked every day.

He sat in the front seat, sipping a shake, tapping away at his iPhone. He didn’t even notice Illumi until he opened the passenger side door and said, “Why were you meeting with Hisoka Morow during your lunch, Gotoh.”

Gotoh jumped in surprise and relaxed immediately when he realized it was Illumi bursting into his car. He placed the shake into his cup holder and gestured for Illumi to sit. “It was a request from your father. You know him?”

“He was the candidate I interviewed yesterday. And rejected.”

Gotoh’s face turned grave. “I had no idea.”

“And you met with him because my father said to do so.”

“He didn’t say you’d already interviewed him. He just said it was the only qualified candidate our location received and that I should court him--do whatever it took to get him on board--so I did.”

“Do whatever,” Illumi echoed. “And what does this mean.”

“He can keep his pink hair, as long as it’s under a hat, and he’s starting at twenty per hour. He also requested to work your same shifts, which I told him would be no problem, since you’re here every day. He begins tomorrow morning.” Gotoh lifted his phone. “Should I call and fire him?”

Yes, Illumi almost said. He frowned in thought. “You did not find him to be an unattractive candidate?” Gotoh seemed to relax, marginally, and Illumi realized he had been speaking clipped--angrily--before. He had an intensity about himself, he knew. He’d been told many times that his ‘vibes’ were, occasionally, ‘haunting.’ (Amane’s exact words.) Illumi softened a bit as he said, “I am sorry. I thought, briefly, that you were working for the enemy.”

Gotoh gave Illumi a thin-lipped smile. “I’m loyal to the last. If I’d known this was the same guy, I would have pretended to not have seen your father’s text about it.”

“You found Hisoka to be an acceptable candidate?” he leaned forward in the seat. “I found him to be abrasive, hostile, and ignorant about the industry.”

Gotoh clicked his tongue. “My impression is quite different. He seems too qualified, if anything. He’s definitely weird, but that’s why he’s gonna be in the back.”

“He did not like me,” Illumi said. “I do not think he will respect me as manager.”

Gotoh’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Again--my impression is…different.”

“Explain.”

“That was one of his stipulations, I said. He will only work shifts with you.”

“Why?”

“He has aspirations to run a restaurant of his own one day, he said. He wanted to learn from the Zoldycks themselves. I figured you’d enjoy having another employee with bigger aspirations within the company--when you’ll likely graduate to regional manager next month, you’ll need good minds here.” Gotoh rocked his phone back and forth midair. “But we can tell him ‘nevermind'. I’ll call him now.”

“No. It is fine.”

Gotoh hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Well, your shift is over, Lumi. You want me to drive you home?”

Illumi shook his head. “I need the walk.”

Gotoh scoffed. “Do you? You’ve been up since, what, five? It’s nearly three in the afternoon.”

No. He was very tired. Illumi gave Gotoh a small, slightly strained, smile. “Thank you, Gotoh. I will enjoy the walk. See you tomorrow morning.”

“Along with Hisoka,” said Gotoh.

Illumi left the car and ignored the way his back twinged, yet again.

#hisoillu #au fanfiction #my writing

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thedreamsofgalaxies · 5 days ago

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Since my earlier professor jayvik rant has been living in my head for few days, I just wanna share how I view they'd act as professors.

Viktor is very kind to his students and helps them out the best he can. He answers questions patiently and falls into long rants because of small innocent guestions. He tries to do his best to make the students actually understand the subject, encourage them, and give them opportunities to shine.

However, Vik would be awful at actually understanding how other people think. Even though he thinks he's helping, a lot of the time he just makes everything more confusing. But those bright enough to get him, would love him. Viktor would not know what to do with lazy students or those who don't care about the subject, so he just ignores their existence. Maybe at the beginning of his career he tried to ask them if he can help them in some way, but soon realized talking with them is beyond his scope of expertise, and let them be.

He isn't social at all and he doesn't like lecturing - lecturing would be mandatory evil he has to do in order to stay employed. He prefers the one-on-one's with students he helps, but he doesn't feel comfortable with an audience. His lectures are strickly to the point and quite boring for those who are not already inspired. Lectures are moslty a lot of theory and no practice.

Jayce on the other hand, is all practice and little theory. He does his best to get people to care about his subject and always demonstrates things when he can. He's all bravo and amazes the students with his brillanse on daily basis. Jayce treats the lecture hall as his stage and is always ready to totally bewilder everyone. Mind you: not with his personal drama but actual science! Jayce plans his lectures to the tee and gets ready for them early. He is really proud about the reputation he's gathered around the Uni.

From his students, he appreciates ideas and imagination more than technical knowledge. He encourages them to think out side the box and always try new things, even if it would result in failure. He gives more points to students whose essays have more original deliberation rather than a student with good grasp on facts and theory but no insights.

As co-workers and academics, they are also very different from each other. I suppose this part would follow the Arcane quite literally, though. Jayce is the one who knows all the faculty and is always pulled to mingle with people, even if he'd rather just do his research. The research, he is really truly passionate about, and knows it will be noticed and well-received in the academic circles. While Viktor is happy to hide way in his lab and let his curiosity run free of social pressure. He doesn't really care for the glory of academic recognition, he just does it purely for his own interest.

They disagree about each other's teaching methods, but they still respect each other and the results. Of course Jayce is most comfortable and most himself while his in the lab with Viktor. All the show and social smiles he puts up all day tends to get to him, but with Viktor he can just let all his masks down. Vik teases him about it, but never in a way hurtful way and Jayce answers to the same measure. Because guess what, that's how actual banter works.

They have the most heated academic debates which spread out for weeks. It's ne obvious fighting but subtly leaving research papers on each other's desks while bringing them a new cup of coffee. Jayce is more verbally argumentative though, while Viktor more passive aggressive, but the debates are never personal and always respectful. They often end up blowing up the lab with questionable experiments just to prove a point.

They'd make a perfect team.

#sorry I'm so tired of 'banter' and 'sarcasm' which are really neither but just a chacter being an asshole #it's so stupid and so so common #but yeah this is my two cents on #professor jayvik #and no i will probably never write it my self because there's no plot #doing research is like the least interesting and exciting thing to write about #how can you make a fic out of that?#well maybe a one shot someday or something #anyway if someone knows a fic where it is like this hit me up #jayvik #old man yells at clouds

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sleepless-in-southlands · 1 year ago

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The House Always Wins (With You, I Never Lose)

Ao3

Summary: A look into both the pasts and presents of Grian, Mumbo, and Scar. Content: AU- Mob Bosses, violence, homoromanticism; betrayal, (neck) injury, trust issues, bad ways of addressing trust issues, threats, tension like you wouldn't believe, obligatory characters not CCs Pairings: Romantic scar/mumbo, fruity as FUCK grumbo + scarian they just refuse to say it Notes: Part four of the Bloody Fruits au, chapter three (scar) of The House Always Wins (chap1 grian - chap2 mumbo)

Past

“I think a toast is in order, wouldn’t you say, Scar? To the coming glory of the Glass Empire!”

Scar had a few choice words to say about that supposed glory, and if it weren’t for the fact he was nearly choking himself trying to keep his carotid from bleeding him dry, he might have made them known. Although he had a funny feeling his extremely fired right-hand could guess most of them.

In theory, the night should have been a celebration. The Empire had recently made a few well-placed territory expanses and suffered minimal blowback from the other organizations in town for them, their ranks had grown, their various fronts had been making more money- all good news! The perfect reason for Scar to settle down with his closest confidant for a night of light bookwork and congratulatory chatter.

And then Dolos had lunged at him with a knife, and the whole evening went downhill faster than a rollercoaster.

“Nothing to say, hm?” Dolos asked mockingly, overexaggerating a frown at Scar’s silence. “You’re usually so talkative.”

Even if he could speak right then, Scar wasn’t feeling very chatty anymore. Not verbally, anyways. But if Dolos were to just lend him his knife for a moment, Scar was sure he would be able to communicate a few points well enough.

A gun would have been helpful, but he had made the (in hindsight) poor decision to take off his holster, leaving it and its weapon hanging over the back of his chair. The only plus to this choice was the fact that Dolos had followed his lead, leaving both of them without a firearm. Technically Dolos could retrieve one if he so desired, but that would require him turning his back on Scar, and he wasn’t quite stupid enough to do that.

But he still had the knife, dripping crimson from where it had made a good mess of most of Scar’s upper half before hitting its favourite mark in his neck, and that meant Dolos still had the advantage.

“I know you might not want to see it my way, but you can understand how this is for the best, can’t you?” Dolos was steadily approaching where Scar had backed himself into a wall, unhurried. “I mean, really! Not seeing this coming? What sort of boss doesn’t even notice when their right-hand starts aiming for them?”

Scar gritted his teeth. So Dolos had been a blindspot. Isn’t that the point of a right-hand man? To take care of the threats that get too close? Excuse Scar for trusting him to do his job!

(A voice that matched Dolos’s in the back of Scar’s mind refused to do so. A mob boss, trusting someone? Had he really expected that to end any other way? He truly was unfit for his title.)

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter now.” Dolos continued, ignoring Scar’s internal debates. He paused in his advance, close enough that he could nick Scar’s chin if he fully extended his arm. “Seeing as how I’ll be relieving you of your position posthaste.”

Scar dug his fingers into his neck, as if trying to meld his palm to the wound. He wanted to snap something about over my dead body, but given that seemed to be the plan, he doubted it would have much impact.

Dolos took another step closer, twirling the blade he was about to put through Scar’s chest between his fingers like it was a dinnerware utensil. “Any final words? Or would you prefer to go with some dignity, for once?”

The thought of spitting one last curse at Dolos, however effective, was a tempting one. It would be the last thing Scar ever said, yes, but his time was already up on that front. Might as well go out with a bang.

Before Scar could settle on something even slightly clever to say, however, both he and Dolos were startled by the sound of the office door opening.

“Hey, sorry to bother you two during the celebration, but there’s-” Bdubs looked up from the paper in his hand as he entered the room, sentence dying as he took in the scene before him. Within the half second it took him to process it, the paper was discarded, Bdubs’s gun drawn before it was even halfway to the ground. He aimed it at a midpoint between Scar and Dolos, gaze flickering between the two men. “What exactly is going on here?”

Dolos recovered from his shock at the interruption too fast for Scar’s liking. “Exactly what it looks like, I should imagine.”

Bbuds’s grip tightened on his gun, adjusting his aim to point more towards Dolos. “It looks like you’re trying to kill my boss. Which isn’t going to end well for you, I should imagine.”

It was with satisfaction that Scar noted the sarcasm in Bdubs’s tone as he echoed Dolos’s words back at him. If Bdubs was on his side, he had a chance. But only if Bdubs silenced Dolos before he started talking again. If Dolos was able to convince Bdubs to help him-

“Now, now, there’s no need to be so hasty. Think about this for a moment.” Dolos’s voice was charming, his words casual despite the situation. Scar slumped against the wall he was pressed to. “This Empire needs fresh blood. The boss always has to step down at some point to make way for the future. I’m just bringing the future on a little faster.”

“And if I’m happy with the present?”

“You’re not thinking of the big picture. Once I replace Scar here, I’m going to need my own right-hand. And you, Bdubs… well, I think you could be just the guy for the job.” Dolos explained, smirking like he had already won. “All that stands between you and that position is one Scar Chronos.”

Bdubs glanced over at Scar as Dolos finished his proposition, face unreadable. Not for the first time since Dolos had begun slashing at him, but possibly for the last, Scar wished he could speak. To make his case to Bdubs, make his own offers, whatever it would take to keep the only active gun in the room on his side.

But he couldn’t, the risk of worsening his injuries past the point of recovery too great to take. So long as Scar couldn’t speak, Dolos had every advantage, including Bdubs.

Scar closed his eyes, accepting his fate and bracing himself. Maybe if he was very, very lucky, Bdubs would suddenly become a terrible shot, and he’d have a chance to viciously fling himself at Dolos one last time and try to claw out one of his eyes or give him blood poisoning. If those were his last moments, Scar could die at least somewhat content.

He flinched when Bdubs’s gun fired, less from the sound and more in expectation of the usual pain that came with a bullet wound.

…None did.

Confused, Scar slowly opened his eyes, wondering if his last minute wish had come true and Bdubs had somehow missed. His gun was lowered, his stance slightly more relaxed than it had been, suggesting he had indeed fired. But his angle was all wrong if he had been aiming at Scar, his line of sight focused on the floor across from the boss. Scar followed his gaze.

Dolos was splayed on the ground, expression still smug despite the fact that his skull was shattered and his brain was splattered across the office’s cheap tile. The knife he had been advancing on Scar with was still in his hand, but his grip on it was loose, if the slight curling of a dead man’s fingers could be considered a grip at all.

“Oh.” The sound slipped past Scar’s lips, weak and gargled, as he realized what had happened. Bdubs hadn’t sided with Dolos. He hadn’t shot Scar.

Not that it mattered, Scar considered as his legs gave out on him and he slid down the wall, given he was still going to die. At least Dolos was dead too.

Bdubs was at his side in a moment, Scar having missed the point where he re-holstered his gun and pulled out his phone. He was speaking to whoever he was calling, not Scar, which was likely a good thing given Scar wasn’t entirely sure what he was saying. It sounded like orders.

Distracted by trying to figure out what Bdubs was saying, Scar didn’t notice Bdubs’s free hand reaching out until it was on Scar’s neck. Instinctively, Scar tried to pull back and out of Bdubs’s reach, but his employee just followed the motion through the few inches Scar managed to move. It took Scar a moment to realize that all he was doing was putting pressure on the wound Scar himself was covering, not trying to strangle Scar or cause more damage.

“-ar? Scar?”

And in that moment, apparently, Bdubs had once again changed, phone put away and full attention directed towards Scar. He was frowning, concerned. “Scar? You with me?”

Scar managed what was less of a nod and more him bumping his head into the wall behind him.

“Alright. Try to stay conscious if you can, okay? I’ve called some of our people. Only the ones we can trust, who have the least connection to… your former business partner.” Bdubs's tone was professional and collected despite the situation, only dipping into disdain at the mention of Dolos. “I suspect the Empire may have to perform some spring cleaning after this, but that will have to wait.”

Everything Bdubs was saying made sense. Mob bosses weren't overthrown without backup, and Scar needed help, not a knife in his back. Any co-conspirators would have to be found and dealt with accordingly, but not while Scar was half-alive and weak, which was why Bdubs was focusing on deciding who could still be trusted rather than who had to go- although Scar wouldn’t be surprised if he learned Bdubs was also starting that list in the back of his mind.

What didn’t make sense was the fact that Scar was still alive for any of it to matter. The cut across his throat might not be fatal, but the person currently helping him hold it shut should have been.

After all, if Dolos would betray Scar, why wouldn’t Bdubs? Forget being a right-hand, Bdubs could take over the Glass Empire all by himself as long as he played his cards right, and Scar knew that Bdubs knew enough about their business to do so. Once again, all that stood between Bdubs and an entire kingdom to himself was Scar, and Bdubs was smart enough to know that too.

Which made it rather odd that Scar wasn’t yet dead. Bdubs wasn’t usually this bad at killing people. He took care of Dolos without any issue.

“Something you want to say, Scar?” Bdubs said his name with an unusual stress on the ‘s’ sound, the remnant of how he used to call him ‘sir’ until Scar had personally requested he just call him by his name, twice. He was looking quizzically at Scar, and it took Scar a moment to realize that he was returning Scar’s own pensive look, having got so caught up in his thoughts he hadn’t noticed himself staring. “You look… troubled.”

Scar made a vague gesture with the hand that had been holding his neck together before Bdubs took over.

“I guess you can’t really say anything, huh?” Bdubs caught on. “Well, we’ve got time, and I need to keep you awake. Is it a concern about any of your injuries?”

Scar shook his head.

“Concern about how trustworthy the people I’ve called are?”

Another shake.

“Did you see Dolos’s hand twitch and think he might get back up? I can shoot him again if you want.”

Scar managed a small smile at the lightness to Bdubs’s voice before once again shaking his head.

“It can’t be anything too pressing then, which is good.” Bdubs shifted slightly, settling himself more comfortably without taking any pressure off of Scar’s injury. “Is it about Dolos? His betrayal, what it means for your empire?”

Scar shook his head after a pause. Dolos had started this whole mess, but he was no longer the focus of it.

Bdubs paused as well, taking a moment to think before he asked his next question. “Is it about me?”

A slow nod.

“Is it about how I could kill you, right now, and have the Glass Empire to myself? And you’re not sure why I haven’t yet?”

Scar didn’t move his head, as if it was a trick question and the moment that he confirmed his doubts Bdubs would turn on him and do exactly what he had described. But his lack of answer was just as damning as a yes, Bdubs nodding to himself in lieu of Scar’s, and Scar braced himself as best he could for whatever Bdubs would do next.

“The main reason is that I don’t want the Glass Empire.”

Of all the things Scar was expecting Bdubs to say, the idea that he wouldn’t want to take over as boss of one of Heremita’s main mobs was low on the list, if it was even on there at all. For the average person, sure, it was a perfectly acceptable response. For someone like Scar and Bdubs? Not so much.

“I don’t want to be one of the bosses in general.” Bdubs went on, what Scar assumed to be a clarifying statement only confusing him more. “And if I did, I’d start my own organization to run, not backstab my way into the position.”

Given their line of business, and given the slowly-cooling corpse sitting five feet from the two of them, the sentiment of wanting to make an honest dishonest living was oddly admirable to Scar. Foolish, perhaps, but it hadn’t seemed to have gotten Bdubs killed yet.

“Doesn’t mean I want to be a lackey forever. I do have slightly higher aspirations than cannon fodder, even if I don’t want to be boss. I think I could make a good right-hand.” Bdubs’s voice got tight, and he spared a surprisingly venomous look back at the remains of Dolos. “But not his.”

Scar let his head rest on the wall, the effort of keeping it supported on its own starting to become a strain. Part of him wanted to make a joke about what elevated Scar over Dolos- his charisma? his good looks? the fact that his name was objectively cooler? Part of him was starting to wonder just how much blood he had lost.

He settled for the middle ground of not thinking about it and instead fixing Bdubs with as puzzled of an expression as he could manage, hoping it would be enough to prompt the rest of the explanation from him.

It worked, Bdubs noticing his look as soon as he had turned back towards Scar. “Let me guess: ‘what’s so wrong with my traitorous deceased right-hand?’ I didn’t think I’d need to explain that one to you, Scar, given the situation.”

Scar lightly tapped his own chest, doing his best to indicate yeah, that’s why I don’t like him. Why do you care so much that he tried to kill me?

As if Bdubs could hear Scar’s unvoiced question, he shrugged. “If he’s willing to betray his boss as a right-hand, what would stop him from betraying his right-hand as a boss? I have better odds running errands in enemy territory than standing at his side.”

Mentally, Scar conceded to Bdubs’s logic. A traitor didn’t just make for a bad subordinate.

“Besides, it’s one thing for a lackey to try and go after a higher up. But a betrayal between a boss and their right-hand man?” The casual tone Bdubs had carried for most of the one-sided conversation dropped suddenly, voice hard. “Dolos deserved worse than a bullet to the head.”

Scar raised an eyebrow but didn’t try to push Bdubs to say anything else. He could tell it was personal. He didn’t need to pry.

The sound of cars coming to a fast stop in front of the building seemed to snap Bdubs out of his thoughts. He put his free hand on his holstered gun, seemingly more as a precaution than a necessity.

“That should be our people.” Bdubs informed him, giving Scar a quick once-over as if to remind himself of his condition. “We’ll make sure you get through this, and hold down fort until you can take back over. And I’ll make it clear as glass that anyone who wants to take advantage of the situation can join Dolos in whichever empty lot or dirty harbor he gets dumped in.”

Scar managed a slight nod before the office door was opening, people Scar could recognize as some of the Empire’s filing in and Bdubs launching into directing them about. The sudden uptick in activity and noise was too much for Scar to focus on, and he let the ruckus wash over him as Bdubs handled it. Despite the blow his trust had just taken, Bdubs’s conviction against Dolos and inexplicable lack of desire to be a boss seemed sturdy enough for him to rely on.

Plus, assuming he truly did survive the next few days, he’d be the one needing to replace his former close confidant. And Bdubs had said he’d make a good right-hand man. Scar could consider this his test run.

And even though he had no reason to, Scar had a good feeling about how Bdubs would do.

Present

“Mumbo, dear, as much as I appreciate the thought, I really don’t need you to have your waiter tortured and killed for me.”

Mumbo, who, unfairly, seemed more upset about the situation than Scar was, frowned. “It won’t be any trouble.”

“I know it won’t be, but that doesn’t mean it’s necessary.” Scar leaned back on Mumbo’s desk, one hand braced against the wood. His cane rested beside him. “Accidents happen! Not every injury is the result of an attempted murder.”

“Maybe accidents would happen less if those who caused them were… made an example of.”

“They tripped, Mumbo, that can happen to anyone.”

Mumbo crossed his arms, seemingly unwilling to let Scar’s lighthearted mood get to him. “You’re hurt.”

Scar bit back a joke about how he hadn’t forgotten that. He could tell from Mumbo’s tone, and the way he was looking at Scar, that he wasn’t just referring to the physical cut.

And, yes, perhaps he should have realized how obvious he was being. Despite his own attempts to write off the injury as nothing more than a scratch, his hand was pressed over it hard enough to bruise his neck, as if he might bleed out if he loosened his grip in the slightest. And while he had allowed Mumbo to lead him into the End Crystal’s office, he had pulled away from him almost as soon as they were inside the room, rushing to put space between the two of them.

A space Mumbo hadn’t tried to enter, standing across from his own desk at a respectful distance, looking the entire time as though he wanted to step closer but knew it wouldn’t end well. The similarity of the situation to the one with Mumbo’s former bartender was not missed by Scar.

“I’ll be alright.” He said instead, trying his best to sound reassuring. “I’ve survived worse.”

Mumbo’s eyes flickered the slightest bit downwards, right to the proof of Scar’s claim, and his frown deepened. Scar shifted his hand slightly so as to cover more of his neck as he looked away from Mumbo.

Now neither of them were feeling reassured. Scar was doing spectacular.

The door to the office quickly opened and closed, and Scar turned his gaze towards Grian as he approached the two of them. He came to a stop next to Mumbo, easily picking up on the purposeful space that had been put between him and Scar. Similar to Mumbo, Grian looked more agitated than Scar felt he had the right to.

“Everything’s been cleaned up, and security detained the server without issue.” Grian informed them, glancing at where Scar’s cut was hidden underneath his hand. “Once we attend to you, Mr. Chronos, me and Mr. Eris can… discuss what happened today with them.”

“You know how much I love seeing you two beat up people and call it a discussion, Grian,” Scar put emphasis on Grian’s name, still in the process of trying to convince the South (namely, his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s not-boyfriend) that it was ok to use his first name, even when none of them were actively dying, “but it’s really not necessary in this case.”

Grian frowned. “It won’t be any trouble.”

“That’s what I said.” Mumbo grumbled.

“Yes, yes, it’s impressive how in sync you two are. Have you ever tried the newlywed game?” The only response Scar received were two near identical unamused stares. He decided not to comment on how they weren’t exactly proving him wrong. “Hey now, I don’t think you’re allowed to be angry at the injured guy.”

Mumbo sighed. “Are you sure you don’t want us to do anything to them?”

“Positive.”

“What if we do something anyway?”

Scar tilted towards Grian. “The End Crystal needs to maintain a somewhat nice reputation, doesn’t it? I feel like bleeding someone dry for tripping would achieve the opposite effect.”

“We’d be fine,” Grian replied, sounding sullen as he continued on with, “but I suppose I can tell security to let them go this time. Though they’re still fired.”

“They probably already quit.” Scar pointed out. Grian shrugged.

“I’ll leave them to squirm a bit before finding out.”

“You may as well hand them their termination papers now.” Mumbo said, looking apologetic when Grian glanced over at him. “I was refilling the office first aid kit when Mr. Chronos came over and left it in the storeroom. If you wouldn’t mind grabbing it, you can also let our former employee know their services are no longer needed here.”

Grian rolled his eyes, though the gesture lacked the typical annoyance that came with it. “You’re a spoon.” He told Mumbo before turning back towards the door, heading off to do as he had been indirectly asked.

Scar shifted uncomfortably. “You don’t, uh, need to do that. The Glass Empire has sufficient resources.”

“As does the South.” Mumbo responded, bemused. “Similar to our reputation, our supplies will withstand you using a few.”

Again, Scar looked away from Mumbo. From the corner of his eye, he could see Mumbo’s frown return right before he took a single step toward Scar.

In an instant, Scar’s eyes were back on Mumbo as he flinched back, pressing closer to the desk, body tensing and gaze wary. It suddenly didn’t matter that Mumbo was his ally and his partner, that he had no reason right then to hurt Scar, that both he and Grian could have killed Scar a dozen times over on any given day he spent with them and had never tried. All that mattered was that he was too close to Mumbo, physically and otherwise. All that mattered was that he trusted Mumbo.

A mob boss, trusting someone? Had he really expected that to end any other way?

Scar dug his fingers into both wood and flesh. He wouldn’t go down without a fight. Whatever Mumbo did next, he was ready for it.

…Admittedly, he was not ready for Mumbo to immediately step back, raising his hands placatingly.

“Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to get in your space.” Mumbo apologized, as if there still hadn't been a solid five feet between the two of them, as if Scar wasn’t in the epicenter of what was most certainly Mumbo’s space, not his. “This is going to make bandaging your neck a tad tricky, though.”

"I can do that myself." Scar replied, confused but no less defensive.

"Are you sure that you should?" Mumbo asked, rushing on before Scar could respond, "I think- I think you want it bandaged right, and that's hard to do on your own."

Scar floundered. Mumbo was right, as much as he didn't want to acknowledge it (Mumbo knew him; Mumbo knew him). The cut wasn't very big, and for anyone else, it'd be easy enough to handle, but it wasn't anyone else. Scar needed help. Scar couldn't accept any help.

“Bdubs.” Scar forced out after a too long moment of silence. “He can… he’ll know what to do.”

Mumbo graciously didn’t point out the fact that wrapping up a small cut wasn’t very complicated to figure out. “Alright. Do you want to call him over here? Or, er, do you want to go back to your shop and meet him there?”

The way Mumbo paused on the second option made it clear which of the two choices he preferred, and Scar hated that he agreed. He would be safer in his offices over the End Crystal’s, but the journey to get there posed its own set of risks. He had the advantage of limited entrances and limited possible assailants in the room, and the fewer people who saw him clutching at a scratch like it was a fatal wound, the better.

You’d be safer taking an unarmed nightly stroll than you are here, a voice that had never stopped sounding like Dolos’s reminded him, snide and rotting, danger’s part of the job; trust is what gets you killed.

“Can you get him?” Scar asked, keeping his eyes on Mumbo despite wanting to look away, “He was pretty busy when I left. I don’t know if he’ll pick up my call.”

It was a lie, and a bad one at that. Bdubs was a right-hand, it was his job to drop everything to answer Scar's calls. But he needed an excuse to get Mumbo out, to get him away from Scar, and it was the first one that came to mind.

Mumbo took it without question, as if it was a reasonable thing for Scar to ask, as if it wasn't just Scar pushing the boss out of his own office. "If that’s what will help you, then of course. Do you want me to take Mr. Penemue with me?”

Mumbo was willing to get Bdubs. Mumbo was willing to get Bdubs himself, not by sending a lackey to fetch him. Mumbo was willing to get Bdubs and leave Scar, alone, in his office. Mumbo was willing to get Bdubs with Grian and leave Scar completely alone in the heart of his organization. Scar was starting to feel like he was the one who needed to be warning Mumbo about trust. Scar couldn’t make a sound. “He wouldn’t like that.”

“He’d understand.”

“He still wouldn’t like it.” Grian trusted Scar more than Scar had ever imagined he would- given Grian was actually willing to leave him alone with Mumbo- but Scar knew there were some things that never changed. Grian would spend the entire trip to fetch Bdubs thinking through every possible thing Scar could be doing in their absence, and the second he got back he’d rewatch his eyes’ footage five times over again just to be certain Scar truly hadn’t done anything more exciting than shift in place.

In response, Mumbo switched tactics. “Are you going to be alright if he stays here?”

It was a fair question. Scar was clearly flighty with only Mumbo. It didn’t make sense for him to be better off with his right-hand. He didn’t know Grian as well. He didn’t trust Grian as much.

And that was the kicker, wasn’t it? Scar didn’t trust Grian, not like he trusted Mumbo. He wouldn’t be nearly as surprised if Grian tried to take him out now. That made Grian safer.

“It’s ok, Mumbo. I won’t mind.”

Mumbo studied Scar’s expression, trying to see if there was any sign of him lying, as if it wasn’t better for him if he left Grian behind to keep an eye on everything. Then, he nodded once, a self-confirmation of whatever he had determined in that moment. “Alright.”

Before Scar had a chance to argue Mumbo’s acceptance- why was he so willing to do what Scar asked? didn’t he understand the danger?- Grian returned, so well-timed Scar wouldn’t be surprised if he had planned it. He was carrying a dark case that looked about the right size to fit into a desk drawer, sleek and unassuming despite the reinforced lock on it.

Mumbo turned towards Grian as he stopped beside him, once again giving Scar a wide berth of space he had no right to. “I have to go fetch Mr. Centuria for Mr. Chronos, won’t be long.”

Grian inclined his head, glancing at Scar, glancing at the distance still separating him from them. “Do you want me to come with you?” He asked, because even Mumbo’s over-protective-to-a-fault boyfriend of a bodyguard was willing to put Scar above logic, for some damned reason.

“No need. I’ll be quick.”

And Grian accepted that, with a nod and a small touch as Mumbo passed him and headed out of the office, as if it was logical, as if anything they were currently doing made any sense given who they were. Grian switched the case between his hands, looking thoughtfully at Scar.

“You seem… perplexed.” Grian said after a moment, stressing the word to imply the inherent understatement in it.

“If Mumbo had asked you to come with him, you would have… just gone?”

“I always do what Mr. Eris asks of me.”

A lie, unless Grian didn’t count Mumbo asking him to rest as a real request- but that was beside the point. “And you think that would’ve been safe?”

The corner of Grian’s mouth turned up in the slightest indication of a smirk, though the expression didn’t seem amused, more perfunctory. “You’re hardly a threat, Mr. Chronos.”

Scar glared at Grian, though it wasn’t strong enough to elicit any reaction from him. Scar had the sneaking suspicion even a truly harsh look wouldn’t inspire much more than a raised eyebrow from the right-hand. “I’m not Mumbo.”

“You’re not.” Grian acknowledged gracefully, ignoring the low-blow in Scar’s words. Scar almost wished he hadn’t. It’d be easier to be fighting, to know Grian was against him, rather than going through the polite business motions Grian was so good at and Scar so hated. “And I’m not Mr. Centuria-”

“Bdubs, just call him by his name, it’s Bdubs-”

“-yet you didn’t mind me staying.” Grian finished, shutting Scar up. Grian tilted his head, gaze piercing. “I’m neither your right-hand man, nor your partner, but I’m still here. You had Mumbo leave, but you’ve passed the opportunities presented to you to have me do so as well. You want me here, for some reason, but your interactions with me are currently bordering on hostile.”

The unspoken why? in Grian’s words was loud, but Scar couldn’t bring himself to answer it. There was no good way to explain that he didn’t trust Grian, that he was waiting for even the slightest indication Grian was going to turn on him, and that was why he could stay but Mumbo couldn’t. There was no good way to explain that, despite all that, Scar couldn’t bring himself to jeopardize the safety Grian so carefully cultivated for himself and Mumbo in the End Crystal. There was no good way to explain any of it, so Scar steadily met Grian’s eyes instead, saying nothing.

A long minute passed like that, neither of them speaking or breaking eye contact. Scar’s fingers dug deeper into his neck with each second that passed in the silence, waiting for the tension to snap, for Grian to make his move. It was a perfect time to strike, and Grian wouldn’t catch Scar by surprise.

Grian sighed. “Do you want help stemming the blood?”

Alright, that caught Scar by surprise. He tamped down on the highly irrational urge to ask Grian to just stab him already. “What?”

“I could bandage it too, but I presume that’s why Mr. Centuria is coming over.” Grian’s tone was largely professional, but the usual edge on it was soft in a way Scar knew was deliberate. “And I won’t get close unless you want me to.”

“I won’t move my hand.” Scar said, in lieu of I can’t move my hand, of did you hear your own double meaning, of why would you want to.

“Your palm isn’t very absorbent.” Grian replied, not missing a beat, not giving away anything outside of the exact words he spoke. “I can clean up what slips through. Up to you.”

Though his behaviour spoke to the contrary, Scar knew the cut on his throat wasn’t nearly bad enough to warrant such attention. At most, a few drops of blood had trickled past his hand, and Scar wasn’t particularly worried about them.

Grian knew that too. His demeanour was unrevealing, unreadable, but his manner didn’t change how he was trying to produce any reason to get close to Scar. It was suspicious. Dangerous. Untrustworthy.

And wasn’t that exactly why Scar had been fine with Grian staying?

“You don’t have to do that.” Scar waited a beat, trying to gauge any reaction from Grian. Predictably, there were none. “But you can get close anyways, if you want.”

“You’re certain?” Grian asked, even as he took a step forward, testing the waters as he dropped the case in his hand into one of the chairs facing Mumbo’s desk.

“Positive.”

Grian continued his approach, each step measured, lingering a second longer than necessary with each one. He went further than Scar entirely expected, only coming to a stop when he was directly in front of him. The space left between them was courteous, but slim compared to the wide margin that had been there. A good distance to attack from.

With his hands free, Grian crossed his arms, fingers visibly splayed over the fabric of his suit. Not a very pragmatic stance- it would take him a moment to reach one of his weapons and actually use it, and that would give Scar an opening.

“Can I ask how you got it?” Meanwhile, Grian apparently remained intent on using his strategy of blindsiding Scar without so much as raising a finger. “The scar.”

“...You can ask.”

Grian huffed, eyes crinkling just enough to make it a laugh. “Can I know if they’re dead, at least?”

“What if I said I tripped?”

“I’d know you were lying. But I wouldn’t push.”

“How accommodating.”

“The End Crystal offers only the best in service to our voluntary visitors.”

Scar looked away from Grian, watching him from the corner of his eye. True to his word, Grian didn’t push, didn’t try to make a move while Scar was feigning distraction. Why had he even wanted to get closer? What was he going to do?

“He’s dead.”

“Was it slow?”

“As slow as a bullet to the head is.”

Grian tsked. “Pity.”

Scar turned his gaze back to Grian, a half-teasing, half-provoking comment dying on his tongue when he realized that Grian’s focus had dropped from his face to his neck, looking at the scar in the same way Mumbo had. But that couldn’t be right. That would mean something Scar hadn’t calculated for.

“Back in our old town,” Grian started, and if Scar didn’t know better, he’d describe the words as halting, “Mumbo’s first right-hand tried to have me killed.”

Scar’s eyes widened. Grian’s fingers twitched, still staring at the remnants of the large cut that had nearly taken Scar’s life, and for a fleeting moment Scar imagined him reaching out, tracing the line of the scar.

“I know what betrayal looks like.” Grian added, gaze drifting back up to meet Scar’s. “What happens when someone gets too close.”

Scar’s chest felt tight. Why was he so close? “Are they dead?”

“Yes.”

“Was it slow?”

Grian smirked, the sharp edges of his teeth showing as he leaned forward, resting some of his weight on the desk. “Agonizingly.”

Grian had a hand planted on each side of Scar, boxing him in between Grian and Mumbo’s desk. Paradoxically, Scar’s grip on his neck loosened from the point of near strangulation, some of the tension ebbing from his body. This he understood. This he was ready for.

“Are you going to kill me?” Scar asked, just to have it out in the open.

“If I was going to kill you, Mr. Chronos,” Grian’s tone was smooth, like he wasn’t surprised by the question, like he had seen it coming, “you’d already be dead.”

“My first name, please.”

“Why do you think I want you dead?”

Because everyone does. Because that’s the business. “You wanted to get close.”

“And you thought it was so I could attack you?” Grian didn’t leave enough time between his sentences for Scar to provide an answer to the question. Not that Scar would have given one. “Can I not want to get close just for the sake of it?”

Too late, Scar began to realize he had miscalculated again. The situation they had entered was dangerous- more dangerous than Scar had thought- but not for the same reasons. Grian wasn’t building up to a fight.

“Grian-”

“Do you consider us enemies?” Grian took a step into his space, nearly pressing the two of them against each other. “The South and the Glass Empire are friendly, but are we?”

“Why would you think we’re enemies?”

“You know what they say.” Grian shifted his balance, lifting one hand from the desk to raise it to Scar’s neck, fingers layering over Scar’s where he was pressing down on his accidental injury. Scar made to flinch, reflexes not nearly as fast as they needed to be, but Grian didn’t start choking him, didn’t produce a short blade to bury in Scar’s throat. He matched the pressure Scar was applying, not an ounce of malice in the gesture. “Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”

Scar’s mouth was dry. He had lost his footing, stumbling past the point of no return without even realizing, and now Grian’s face was directly in front of his, hand on his neck, and yet the snide voice that usually rang out in the back of his mind, pointing out his every weakness and blind spot, was dead silent.

For less than a microsecond, Scar’s eyes darted down, looking directly at Grian’s lips.

“Are we enemies?” Scar barely managed to ask, hushed, anticipation almost sounding like fear.

“That depends, Scar,” Grian dragged out his name, so close Scar could practically feel it, fingers curling around the back of Scar’s neck to keep him from pulling away, “how close do you keep your enemies?”

Scar’s breath caught in the back of his throat. Grian had him trapped, literally and metaphorically, no space left for Scar to try and escape into even if he felt capable of moving, but for the first time since Scar had entered the office with his neck barely bleeding, he wasn’t waiting for a hidden blade to find purchase in his flesh. The hand Grian still had on the desk was pressing into Scar’s thigh, but Scar couldn’t imagine it doing anything other than moving to his hip, another point of connection as Grian did more than just hold him still, as he moved in a little bit closer as he pulled Scar with him, as-

“Are we interrupting something?”

If it weren’t for how tightly coiled he was with tension (a very different kind of tension then had been keeping him frozen five minutes ago), Scar would have jumped a mile in the air at the sound of Mumbo’s voice. While Grian smoothly turned away from Scar to face the door, hand still damningly on Scar’s neck, Scar forced his gaze in the same direction.

Standing in the doorway were Mumbo and Bdubs, whose arrival Scar apparently had missed. They both seemed slightly out of breath, as though they had been in a hurry to reach the office, but they weren’t nearly winded enough to not also be looking at Scar and Grian like they had walked in on something extremely amusing.

“I can turn around for a minute, if you need me to.” Bdubs offered. Given the reason Mumbo had fetched him, Scar couldn’t exactly immediately dismiss Bdubs back to their offices, but the thought of doing so was tempting.

“We’re not-” Scar’s voice came out three pitches too high and more guilty sounding than a kid caught with a hand in the cookie jar. He shut his mouth immediately, stringing together some colourful curses in his head in the meanwhile. What the hell was he supposed to tell Mumbo that would explain why he was so close to his right-hand? Especially when said right-hand was still holding his neck, a choice that was starting to feel rather shameless.

Was this how Grian was going to get Scar killed? If it was, he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to be mad about it.

“You’re not interrupting anything,” Grian said, sounding as though he were discussing the weather, completely composed save for a faint dusting of pink across his cheeks that even right beside him Scar could only barely see, “I’m merely helping Mr. Chronos with his injury.”

Mumbo, who Scar presumed could pick out Grian’s exact skin tone in a crowd from a mile away, seemed to catch the flush and grinned. “How… professional of you, Mr. Penemue.”

“Yes, well.” Grian finally took his hand away from Scar’s neck, slowly at first so as not to startle Scar before speeding up, turning fully to begin striding towards Mumbo and picking up the first aid case as he went. “Mr. Centuria, I’ll leave Mr. Chronos in your capable hands. Mr. Eris and I will be outside if you need us. Take all the time you see fit.”

Bdubs took a step into the office, startled, as Grian brushed past him. Grian grabbed Mumbo’s arm, tugging him out of the doorway and pulling the door shut behind them in one fell swoop.

After staring at the suddenly shut door for a moment, Bdubs shook his head, looking back towards Scar as he began to approach him. Tucked under his arm was one of the End Crystal’s grab-and-go first aid kits.

“I was going to apologize for not arriving sooner,” Bdubs came to a stop slightly to Scar’s side, moving the kit to his hands as he unzipped it. He seemed entertained by the situation, which Scar really didn’t appreciate, “but I guess I should have arrived later instead.”

“I don’t know- I don’t know what you’d expect to be different. If you had been later.” Scar very deliberately avoided meeting Bdubs’s eyes. He hadn’t told a lie that audibly flimsy since long before he had become an organizational head.

“Would you like me to describe what I had expected?”

“Would you like to find yourself rapidly unemployed?”

Scar’s (admittedly hollow) threat fell flat if Bdubs’s following chuckle was anything to go by. “I’ll leave it to your imagination, then. Raise your chin.”

Doing his best to not let his imagination run off on its own track, Scar did as asked. He took his hand away from his neck when Bdubs prompted as well, Bdubs applying pressure to the spot with a cotton ball in lieu of Scar’s palm.

Bdubs didn't say anything further about the matter (although Scar was certain he wanted to) as he went to work cleaning and disinfecting the site of the wound. No sound from outside the office made it inside, which meant that any conversation Mumbo and Grian were or weren’t having was unavailable for Scar to eavesdrop on.

“Do you think Mumbo's going to try to kill me?” Scar asked half-seriously, more to the room itself than Bdubs. Killing over Grian's honour would be extreme, but that was hardly a deterrent for the South.

“For what? That?” Bdubs scoffed. “Would be a bit hypocritical of him.”

“Hypocritical?”

Bdubs paused in his ministrations, shifting his focus from Scar’s neck to his face with a frown. “Wait. What are you worried about?”

“As much as I would like to pretend you went briefly blind upon entering the room, I know you saw, er, that, and I know Mumbo did too. And you know how they are.” Scar shot a glance in the general direction of the South leaders. “He’s teased us for some of our banter before, but admittedly we… looked….like we were doing a bit more than that.”

Bdubs blinked once, twice. “Scar, please. I can’t do this again.”

“Do what again?”

“When you finally accepted the South’s offer of a partnership, and you came back to our office and made a joke about business partnerships with benefits,” Bdubs was speaking very slowly, as if making sure Scar understood each individual word, “that was referring to Mumbo and Grian, right?”

Any concerns Scar might have had about blood loss went out the window as his entire face flushed red hot at the speed of light.

“Right?” Bdubs repeated, sounding desperate. When Scar remained embarrassingly silent, he dropped his head into his free hand, covering his face as he groaned.

“I don’t-” Scar paused to clear his throat. It had been a very bad day for him, in terms of acting like the intimidating mob boss he usually was. “Why did you think the deal was with both of them?”

“Because I have two eyes.” Bdubs deadpanned. “I don’t know if I should be more upset over that, or the fact that it means, of the two of them, you sent the one you aren’t dating to get me.”

“You know exactly why I did that.”

“I do. Doesn’t make it any less stupid.” With a sigh, Bdubs lifted his head again, turning his attention back to Scar’s injury. “But it worked out this time. This doesn’t need stitches, and the worst thing Grian did was forget to lock the doors.”

“Bdubs.”

Unperturbed, Bdubs went on with his work, bandaging Scar's neck. “And as to your question, no, Mumbo's not going to try and kill you. He also has eyes, and if he had a problem you would have heard about it by now.”

“I don’t think I like what you’re implying.”

“You’ll like it less if I say it directly.”

“Got me there.” Scar muttered, letting the conversation lapse as Bdubs finished up. His attempts to put his thoughts in order, regarding what had nearly happened and what Bdubs had said, were sabotaged by the distracting concept of what could have been had Mumbo and Bdubs arrived five minutes later.

By the time Bdubs had taped down the edges of the bandage, the only thing Scar had really managed to figure out was that Mumbo most likely wasn't going to kill him. If he was, Scar doubted he would have granted him the courtesy of waiting until Bdubs left to strike. As to everything with Grian, well- Scar had given up trying to think any of it through.

“Good as new.” Bdubs replaced his remaining supplies in the first aid kit, zipping it shut while looking at Scar meaningfully. “I’ll head back to the shop now, assuming you don’t need anything else.”

“Actually, I think I’ll come with you.” Scar took his weight off Mumbo’s desk for the first time since he had entered the room, putting his cane back to use. His other arm ached as he stretched it out, cramped from having been bent towards his neck for so long. “I’ve had my fill of the End Crystal for the day.”

“You don’t want to stay a bit longer? Maybe talk with your business partners first?”

Scar pointedly ignored the obvious implications of Bdubs’s choice in wording. “I’m sure Mumbo and Grian have more important things to be doing right now.”

“...Alright.” The disappointment in both Bdubs’s tone and expression was so thick Scar could have kicked it. Scar chose to ignore it too.

The walk from one end of the End Crystal’s main office to the other had never felt so long, and only partially because Scar was dragging his feet for it. Heading back to his shop still required passing by Mumbo and Grian, and Scar feared it was a little too soon for them all to pretend like today had never happened.

Bdubs, who Scar suspected wanted to leave him at the End Crystal for (at minimum) a fortnight before seeing him again, didn’t seem as concerned with the incoming interaction and pushed open one of the doors without any hesitation.

Mumbo and Grian were idling near the center of the waiting area, Grian leaning against the back of a couch that was much too nice to be used so casually with Mumbo standing next to him. Both were already turned towards the office doors, likely having cut off whatever conversation they had been having when they heard the sound of the doorknob turning.

“I hope you’re feeling better, Mr. Chronos.” Grian’s voice was professional, polite, devoid of any personal emotions. His countenance was the same, carefully closed off in the way it always was, in the way Scar was used to, in the way Scar was starting to hate.

“Much.” Scar answered with an enthusiasm he didn't entirely feel. “Now, while the South's hospitality has been as refined as ever, I'd hate to put you out more than I already have.”

“Your company never puts us out any.” Mumbo, in direct contrast to Grian, made no attempt to hide his continued amusement with the situation. Scar decided to hate that as well. “You're welcome to stay longer, if you wish.”

“I don't want to impose. And I really should get back to my offices.”

“If you must.” Mumbo said reluctantly, and Scar took a small comfort in the fact that at least some of his disappointment was genuine. “Safe travels.”

Without looking away from Scar, Grian tugged on one of his sleeves, straightening out the edge of it. Scar resolutely did not think about how it likely got rumpled when Grian had been holding his neck. “The South looks forward to your next visit.”

“You make it sound so impersonal, Grian.” Scar mindlessly quipped, a mistake he fully intended to blame on being distracted by Grian’s sleeves.

Granted, Grian entertaining him with a response was probably a mistake on his own behalf, but given Grian delivered his with a single raised eyebrow and perfect composure, Scar felt as though he was faring better than Scar was. “Would you prefer I make it personal, Mr. Chronos?”

Using what scant wisdom he currently had access to, Scar opted to not try and answer the trick question and hastily pivoted back to the main point of the conversation. “Ah- until next time, gentlemen!”

Scar made his departure with as much dignity as he could- which, admittedly, was not nearly enough. Bdubs followed a step behind him, and although Scar was no longer looking at them, he was certain Mumbo and Grian’s eyes were also following him out.

For a brief moment, in the stint of time between Scar opening the door to leave through and Bdubs closing it, Mumbo and Grian’s voices slipped out.

“‘Would you prefer I make it personal’?”

“Shut up.”

Bdubs gave Scar the courtesy of waiting until they were back on their own territory to treat him to the same. “‘You make it sound so impersonal’?”

“Shut up.” Scar replied with no bite, making a beeline for his office to hide in as soon as they were inside the jewelry shop. He heard Bdubs sigh, but his right-hand didn't try to pursue him, which meant the matter was as good as settled as far as Scar was concerned.

(It wasn’t, and Scar knew that. Not when he could still feel where Grian had touched him, white hot yet leaving his skin uncharred.

Grian could kill him. Grian probably wanted to kill him, all things considered, and certainly would without hesitation if he had any reason to suspect Scar of being a threat. Mumbo wouldn’t stop him. In the event of Scar’s bloody demise at Grian’s hands, Mumbo would- at best- be mildly disappointed. No, the South was as great of a threat to the Glass Empire as it ever had been- even more so now that they were allies, now that Scar had gotten so close.

The part of his mind that Dolos’s mimicry perpetually inhabited recoiled at the thought of Scar learning nothing and letting trust pave the way to the destruction and downfall of his empire. Dolos was a traitor, but he had understood that trust was best for use as a weapon and little else.

The part still focused on the burning, in counter, played on repeat the moment where Grian had wrapped his hand around Scar’s neck and hadn’t so much as dug his nails in.)

Scar slumped into his chair and dragged a hand over his face. Without even meaning to, his hand dropped from his chin to his neck, fingers curling around the back exactly as Grian’s had.

Fuck.

#hermitcraft #goodtimeswithscar #bdubs #mumbo jumbo #grian #mumscarian #scarianbo #scarian #m.y funky words #bloody fruits au #mfw: thaw(wyinl)#boys this is NOT how u deal with trust issues #anyways. everyone shout out to bdubs the long suffering

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multi-fandom-of-madness · 2 years ago

Text

Darkness At The Heart Of My Love

Pairings: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia X GN!Reader

Type: Fluff that turns to angst w/ no comfort

Summary: Copia had just begun his reign as Papa, and was overworked. He needed to get away from the ministry and all of it. He found someone along the way. Someone who showed him love and happiness. It was perfect, until things changed, and then things descended into chaos.

Warnings: Mentions of character death, heartbreak, use of Y/N, google translated Italian

Word Count: 3,619

Notes: I’m debating on whether I want to make this into a short series. I already have the second part written, but I don’t know how I feel about the plot I previously had for the third part. I originally did this as a self insert, so if there are pronouns that don't correlate with a gender neutral reader, please let me know I will fix it asap. Also I'm sorry for the way the song lyrics copied over, you're just gonna have to deal with it (unfortunately).

Read on AO3

When the summer dies

Severing the ties

I'm with you always, always

Will you walk the line?

My path serpentine

Remember always

That love is all you need

Tell me who you wanna be

And I will set you free

There's a darkness at the heart of my love

That runs cold, runs deep

The darkness at the heart of my love

For you

It was a September afternoon. The leaves were just starting to change and the air had just started to relieve itself of its hellish temperatures. Summer finally started saying its goodbye.

The Clergy had been on Copia’s back recently due to his most recent accomplishment of being in talks to become the new Papa. He knew that they just wanted everything perfect, but he was struggling to believe he could live up to their practically impossible standards. It had been an impossibly long day, and he knew that he needed a break before he snapped, inflicting the wrath of Sister Imperator.

He drove around, just trying to clear his head until he found a café. A small little thing that looked very simple. He didn’t bother to check the name or the reviews before walking inside.

“Good afternoon! How can I help you today?” A chipper voice called out to him. His head snapped up from his phone as he set his eyes on them.

“Oh, hello. I-I’m good. How are you today?” He responded, his cheeks reddening slightly as he stumbled over his words.

“Well, it would be better if it were time to go home, but honestly I can’t complain too much,” the cashier responded. “What can I get for you today?”

Copia looked over the menu for just a moment. “Could I just get a black coffee and a blueberry scone?”

“Sure thing!” They smiled as they told him the total and grabbed his scone. They handed him the bag, and his hand lingered for a moment. He held his breath once he realized what he was doing, and grabbed the bag.

“Grazie,” he mumbled as he walked over to the other end of the counter to wait on his coffee. He watched as they poured the coffee, entranced by their every move.

“Here’s your coffee, sir,” they called as if he wasn’t jumping at the chance to talk to them again.

“Thank you,” he said, taking it and finding a seat. He was the only person actually sitting down, everyone else who came in got their orders and left. Copia knew that wouldn’t do for him. If he left, he didn’t know what would have happened.

He sat for a while, eating his scone and sipping his coffee. It was peaceful in the little café. Soft music played over the speakers, and the scent of freshly baked treats filled the air. It was nice.

“I’m heading out now! I’ll see you guys later!” He heard them call, apron off and bag in their hand. He watched them walk towards the door, and jumped up, not really knowing what he was doing.

“Excuse me, but I was just wondering if you-if you had any plans today. It’s been a long day, and you seem like you would be nice to talk to. Only, if you want to of course! I just thought you were gorgeous-I mean you seemed nice. Not that you aren’t gorgeous of course! I’m sorry, I don’t really talk to people outside of my work,” he rushed his words. He was slightly shaking, scared of what they would say.

“I don’t have any plans,” they smiled. “There’s a park right down the road, I could take you if you wanted.”

A look of relief washed over his tired face. “Really? I-well, I would like that actually.”

“My name is Y/N,” they said, holding out their arm.

He looped his arm in theirs, internally smacking himself for not asking their name earlier. “Copia.”

“Well, Copia, it’s nice to meet you.” They squeezed his arm lightly as they left the café. He smiled and looked at the ground.

The park wasn’t far at all, just about a ten minute walk. It was pretty, especially now that the leaves were changing their colors, shedding their summertime glow. There was a winding path that had trees scattered along with a few bushes surrounding them. The flowers on the ground were already wilting, but the scene was still beautiful nonetheless.

“So, Copia, what brought you to my little café?” They asked, their head tilting as they continued to walk arm in arm. Copia found it refreshing to not have his title used to address him for once. It seemed to be all he heard now.

“Well, work has been getting to me. Sis-My boss likes everything to be perfect. It’s just the way that the company is run. I’m beginning to take on a new…new mantle, and in order to properly take it on, I have to be perfect. It is a lot of stress for one man.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure it is stressful. May I ask where you work? I might be able to help, or at least provide some comfort with a little more context.”

He was hoping they wouldn’t ask that question, terrified of scaring them off. “Well, it’s a, uh, ministry of sorts.”

“Oh, so you’re going to become a priest. I guess that could be difficult. Not living a life of sin and being perfect for God and all of his followers.”

“Well, not exactly,” he admitted to them. “Are you religious?”

“I’m not entirely religious. I’m sure there’s a source of something out there, but if it is, I haven’t found it. I don’t judge religions though.”

“Well, that’s comforting,” he sighed. They gave him an odd look. “Our ministry isn’t exactly…Christian.”

“Now I'm a little bit confused.”

He laughed lightly at their response. “It’s a Satanic church. We preach about the word of Satan, and it’s a fun little gig we have going. We use a band to spread the word. Maybe you have heard of it?”

“That's interesting. What is your band called? I’m not sure whether I would have heard of it or not.”

“It’s called Ghost, we are pretty popular,” he teased. He wouldn’t be sure whether they’d heard of it or not, and was surprised by their reaction to saying he was with a satanic church.

“No, I don’t think I have heard of it actually.”

“Well, what kind of music do you like? I can help be a good judge of whether it would provide entertainment. It’s, eh, not really your basic music.”

“I’ll listen to almost anything, honestly. I’m always down for a good tune.”

Copia was taken aback by this a bit, a pleasantly shocked look on his face. “Well, it’s a rock band. A pretty good one if I do say so myself.”

“Maybe I’ll give it a listen later.”

They continued to walk for a minute in silence before Copia piped up. “So, what do you do for fun?”

“I don’t really know. I like to read, watch TV, listen to music, and all the basic things.”

“What about video games? Any of that interest you?”

“Not really. I never got into gaming.”

“Interesting.”

“What about you, Copia?”

“I play a game or two here and there, but with the Ministry, I don’t get much time to myself.”

“Oh, I’m sorry that sucks. You can always call me up, if you want some company. I don’t really do much other than work. Here,” they said, sticking their phone out to him, “put your number in, and then you can text me whenever you get too stressed and need an outside source for comfort.” Copia took the phone, put his number in, and sent himself a message to make sure he didn’t put it in wrong, then they continued on their first walk of many.

And that is what they did for months.

They texted back and forth often, called, and even went on quite a few dates. Copia had yet another long day, and knew that he could trust the person he now proudly called his partner. He called, asking if he could spend the night at their apartment, and of course they said yes.

Copia made his way to their apartment, using his key to get inside. “Dolcezza? I’m here, amore.”

“I’m in the bathroom! Just got out of the shower!” They called, and he walked that way. He still had on his paints, which still shocked them sometimes, but they were beginning to grow used to it. “Well don’t you look handsome?” They teased, noting that he was in a hoodie and sweatpants.

“What? Oh, heh, yeah I guess I am a beauty. But you, amore mio, look stunning.” He grabbed their hips, pulling them into a kiss. They had on a plain black t-shirt and a pair of black shorts to match. Their hair was wet, and before the kiss they were drying it with a towel. As they kissed, they dropped the towel in favor of wrapping their arms around his shoulders while his arms crossed around their back to pull them in.

“Well, someone missed me,” they said as they pulled away, leaving their arms around him.

“I always miss you,” he said, pressing a lighter kiss to their forehead.

“You’re so sweet, Copia,” they hummed, staring up into his mismatched eyes, nothing else but adoration showing.

“I love you, tesoro.”

“I love you too. What brings you tonight? Anything special?”

“No, just a long day. Needed a way to relax,” he hummed, looking at them.

“What do you want to do?” They asked, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“What do you say I treat you to a dance?”

“What do yo-” before they finished, Copia removed them from where they leaned on the counter, dancing with them out to the living room. They laughed as he spun the both of them around, one hand holding theirs while the other rested on their waist, kissing them while he dipped them.

They were absolutely in love, and that was easy to see. They had only been to the Abbey a few times, but any sibling of sin, ghoul, or anyone who crossed their paths could see the love on their faces.

Soon, the rings on their left ring fingers became evidence enough. Copia, being the romantic he was, proposed to them about a year and a half later.

The air was warm, spring just beginning to settle in, as they walked through the park they first walked at. They walked there often now, finding comfort in the atmosphere. Little did Y/N know that Copia had a surprise waiting for them. It wasn’t uncommon for them to go on picnics, especially not if they were sunrise or sunset picnics.

They walked the winding trail, arms linked together, as Copia nervously led them to their destination. In the other hand, Y/N held a picnic basket that had all of their favorite things, as Copia’s hand nervously fiddled with the small box containing the second most precious gem. The first being his beloved.

The sky was a gorgeous pale blue, the clouds outlined with pink and orange as the sun began to sink past the horizon. Their normal picnic spot had been set up to look very different.

Copia had to pull a few strings, but the trees were decorated with lights, and all of their favorite flowers formed to make a walkway that led to a small platform that was covered in more flowers.

He walked them towards the destination while one sibling of sin hid in the bushes to capture it on video and get the most perfect photos.

Y/N was in absolute awe. It looked like something out of a movie. “Is that for me, Copia?” They asked innocently, unsure of whether this was just for them or someone else.

“Yes, carissima. This is all for you.” He walked up to the platform, letting them take the first step. He steps up next, bending down on one knee. “I knew from the moment I laid my eyes on you that I wanted to be the one you loved. I have cherished every moment, every laugh, even the fights, all because I got to spend that time with you. You are the love and the light of my life. I love you beyond words, Y/N. So please, will you marry me?”

Crying, Y/N lowers themself to be level with him. “Yes,” they cry, holding his face in their hands and kissing him. “A thousand times, yes.”

Copia’s face lights up as he takes their left hand off his face, slipping the ring on, then pulling them into the closest hug they will ever feel in their lives.

Will you spill the wine

To summon the divine?

I'm with you always, always

Now paint a pair of eyes

And let's watch as it dries

Remember always, that love is all you need

Tell me who you wanna be

And I will set you free

There's a darkness at the heart of my love

That runs cold, runs deep

The darkness at the heart of my love

So bold, so sweet

The big day was here. The day where Y/N and Copia would pledge their love in front of everyone.

Marrying a Papa was a big deal. Everyone in the Clergy would gather to watch the occasion. The reception, however, was for close friends and family members only.

“Are you ready?” A voice called from behind Y/N . It was their father. He wasn’t entirely on board with the concept of marrying a satanic pope, but once he realized just how wonderful Copia made them feel, he accepted the relationship, and welcomed Copia with open arms.

“I believe so,” they said, using one hand to hold the bouquet of flowers, the other smoothing down their outfit.

“Then I believe it’s time,” he said, taking their arm in his as the doors opened. They looked up to where Copia was standing in awe. He had on a gorgeous suit and his paints were on. Tradition is that they wear full regalia, but he didn’t want to remember this moment as Papa, just as Copia. He finally was able to compromise with just using his paints, so he took what he could get.

They could tell that there were tears in his eyes. He was always the sentimental type. They smiled as tears welled in their eyes as well.

As they reached the altar, their father smiled at them and kissed their cheek before sitting down. Copia reached a hand out to them as they walked up the stairs, handing a bridesmaid the bouquet of flowers.

“Hi, you look gorgeous,” he whispered excitedly.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” they said, giving him a wink. The officiant began speaking, signaling the ceremony had begun. There was a bottle of wine, two chalices, and their rings on a small table next to the officiant.

A little while into the wedding, both of them poured wine into the other’s chalice, crossing their arms as they sip. It wasn’t the most necessary part of the ceremony, but it was something that they decided to do. A symbol of their joining together.

They slipped their rings on after, officially combined as one.

They walked back down the aisle, arm in arm, smiling like children, so happy that they found their perfect match. Neither of them wanted to get their outfits messed up, so as their chosen guests filed into the reception room, they changed into simpler, yet still formal, outfits.

“I am so happy that I have you now,” Copia said, coming behind Y/N to wrap them in a hug and leaned his head on their shoulders.

“Until death do us part,” Y/N responded in a joking tone.

“Not even death could keep us from each other,” he said, kissing their neck. Y/N turned around, wrapping their arms around his shoulders, kissing him.

“I would never let that happen,” they smiled.

There's a darkness at the heart of my love

That runs cold, runs deep

The darkness at the heart of my love

For you

“Are you excited? It’s your last concert of this tour. I’m so proud of you,” Y/N said, kissing his cheek as they helped fix his robes.

“It has been a blast. I’m sad to see it come to an end, but that just means we can start new journeys now,” he smiled.

“You’re going to do amazing.” They both walked to the side of the stage, waiting for the cue that they were good to go. “Do you hear that? Copia, they love you.” A smile rested on their face, their head leaning on their husband's shoulder.

“No one could love me the way you do, dolcezza. They may love me, and I may entice them, but my eyes are only for you. I am only for you. I will be with you always,” he said, listening to the crowd’s chanting.

“It’s time. I’ll see you after the show, my love.”

“I love you,” Copia said, kissing them lovingly before walking on stage, the crowd screaming their heads off.

Y/N made their way to their designated spot above the crowd. There was always one section where they would stand and watch, no one else to bother them. The crowd was extremely reactive tonight, everyone having the best time. Even the ghouls looked to be having the greatest night of their lives.

They smiled, singing along to every song. Occasionally, Copia would look up to where they stood, and they waved each time.

He bounced around the stage, everyone enchanted by his every move, but now the concert was coming to an end. He looked so content and happy performing that neither of them wanted this to end.

“Now this song is very special to me. I used to sing this song, worried about the pain another would cause me, or a pain that I would cause another if I let anyone near me, close to my heart. I said no! No relationships!” He paused, looking around the crowd then looking up to them. “Now, I know that I was wrong. I wish I could have figured this out sooner, but when I stepped into that little coffee shop, I’m glad it took all the time that it did. For the past few years, my love, my beautiful, my angel, my partner has been by my side. So now, I sing a new song of love. Love for the one I am so glad to be able to call my partner. For my Y/N.” He pointed at them as the crowd cheered at the mention of their name, causing them to grin and blush. "This is Darkness At The Heart of My Love!” The crowd cheered some more as the opening notes played.

He sang beautifully. His voice was perfect, and his movements bewitching. Everything about this performance proved Copia was a masterpiece. Y/N leaned onto the railing, singing and watching as their lover made his way through the song.

“Remember always that love is all you need. Tell me who you wanna be, and I will set you free,” he sang as the song drew near its end, looking up to Y/N as he did.

There's a darkness at the heart of my love

That runs cold, runs deep

The darkness at the heart of my love

So bold, so sweet

There's a darkness at the heart of my love (my love)

That runs cold (runs cold), runs deep (runs deep)

The darkness at the heart of my love (my love)

So bold (so bold), so sweet (so sweet)

Y/N didn’t notice the security coming behind them, but they recognized similar strange figures standing on either side of the stage, stalking towards Copia.

Panic flooded them as they turned to run to try and save him, though it was a waste of effort. The security guards behind them grabbed them, forcing them to watch the events unfold.

“And all this time you knew that I would put you through the darkness at the heart of my love for you!” Copia sang, unaware of the men behind him while Y/N struggled.

When the summer dies

Severing the ties

I'm with you always, always

The men came behind Copia, grabbing his arms and legs, pulling him away from the microphone. A look of fear filled his face.

Paint a pair of eyes

Let's watch as it dries

I'm with you always, always

“No!” They screamed out, watching him get dragged off stage, struggling in the same way they were. “Copia! Please! No!” People in the few rows below them turned, watching the tears streaming down their face as they continued to scream.

Sister Imperator walked out on stage, beginning to say some words, but Y/N couldn’t make it out. The guards let them go, and they crumpled to the ground, shaking and sobbing, feeling utterly broken. “No,” they cried quieter. The crowd was painfully silent as they watched Sister. “This can’t be happening. No. Please.” A few siblings of sin walked toward them, lifting them off the ground, walking them back to a car.

They took them back to the ministry, and they cried the whole way there. They brought them to bed, changing their clothes and making them comfortable. They listened to their cries, sad looks on their faces.

They said nothing now, laying in the bed them and Copia would never share again. They held his pillow close, crying into it.

He was gone, and they wouldn’t get him back.

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somewherebetweendisorder · 1 year ago

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Cold Brew Love

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

A cofee shop AU

Warnings: angst, fluff, eventual smut

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY, REPOST, OR USE MY WORK IN ANY WAY

~~~

The lock slides home with a satisfying click, signaling the end of Eddie's day. He loves the bar, coated in water to slide drinks easier, the music, crackling through the ancient speakers, and most of the patrons. He likes them better when they're heading out for the night. The sound of glass on glass when the guys at the bar are toasting another weekend, the chorus of playful jeers when Mr. Birkman buys another round of shots that he can't afford. But when the day is done, there's nothing better than locking up and going home.

The air has shifted, the last remnants of September bleeding out into a cool October, leaves falling in fiery waves from the trees. His jacket vest combo is feeling a bit too thin, a bit too worn to fend off the chill, and he shivers against the autumn wind. Maybe he should grab a box of hot chocolate mix or something.

He slides into the van, wishing the heater worked better, wishing he could afford to fix it. It'll have to do until the next paycheck. That could be a gamble, knowing how cold it gets overnight, the new touch of frost lingering even in the sun. Driving slow, he debates a single cup of hot chocolate or a box of packets.

"They'll probably be the same price," he mumbles as he glances at the coffee shop to his left. It's the only place in Hawkins that sells just coffee, boasting the best cup in town, and Eddie avoids it like the plague.

He wouldn't stop; he swears to himself he wouldn't stop if he wasn't suddenly looking at the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. Baggy jeans with battered Vans and a smile brighter than the dawn breaking over Hawkins. Hair loose, wind-whipped, and shining in the raw sunlight, you're taking orders in the line, moving from car to car with more poise than he's ever witnessed in one person, like a dancer.

That's all he needs to make a sharp left into the parking lot and pull in behind the other waiting cars, more eager to see you closer than he is for the hot coco he had been fantasizing about. The line creeps forward, agonizingly slow, but before he has a chance to gather himself, you're bounding up to his window with a cheerful grin and a perky, "What can I get you today?"

He freezes, words dying on the tip of his tongue, thoughts crashing together in a useless, messy heap. Hawkins is far from a large town. How has he never seen you before?

"Uh, do you have- Do you have hot chocolate?"

You grimace, frowning apologetically before you even speak.

"We do not, I'm sorry. It's obscene, really, but my boss doesn't take suggestions, so coffee and tea it is. Either of those sound good?"

Eddie shakes his head while speaking. "Yeah. Just- A small black coffee is fine. Thanks."

You seem unfazed by his behavior, tapping away at the tablet in your hands. "Okay, sweet. And can I get a name for the order?"

"Um, yeah, 'course. It's, uh, Eddie. With two d's."

"Eddie with two d's. Alright, they'll have your order ready at the window, Eddie."

He wants to stop you as you walk away, moving to the car behind his, wants to ask your name, but he's caught on the way you spoke his, saccharine and light like you weren't tilting his world upside down with those eyes and that smile.

"Get ahold of yourself, man."

The window slides open the moment he gets to it, a small paper cup shoved into his partially outstretched hand. It's hot, almost too hot to hold and he scoops the receipts and change out of his seldom-used cup holder frantically so he can set the cup down.

He doesn't spare a glance at the girl behind the window as he mumbles a thank you, doesn't really care if it's not you. A perfect stranger in every right, but he wants more. Feels like somehow he's seen you before. God, he must know you from a past life. What else could it be?

As he pulls away he chances a sip of the coffee. It's as bad as he remembers, searing his tongue, almost sludge-like in consistency. Setting the cup down he sighs, shaking his head. Still worth it. Of course, it was worth it.

The moment his van door jerks open with a loud creak he's popping the lid off the cup, pouring the drink out into the dry grass bordering the Munson drive.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" You turn to Krista as she hands out a cup of tea to a customer, never knowing where she's actually taking a conversation.

"That guy was cute."

You crane your head to see out the window, taking in the dark blue truck that you see come through regularly. "Wasn't that-?"

"Not him, the guy earlier. Eddie. The guy with the curls."

"Oh. Oh. That guy."

You saw him. Really saw him from his chipped black polish, contrasting the silver of his rings as his fingers drummed a nervous staccato beat against the steering wheel. The steering wheel that was peeling at the top, leather flaking away from the seam. His brown eyes were wide, almost too big for his face, looking anywhere but at you as he spoke. He would be impossible to ignore.

Not that you'd been here long, maybe two months, but most were regulars, ordering the same thing day in and day out thanks to small-town habits. You could relate to that, the familiarity of routine. The move had turned your world upside down, shaking up everything you knew and dropping you in Hawkins of all places. And you'd definitely never seen that guy before. Eddie. The name suited him, seemed to fit his cupid's bow and gangly frame just right.

"Yeah, that guy. What'd you think?"

"Um." What sort of question was that? How could you even answer? He seemed to be your type right down to his little flock of bats, but Krista talked too much, and really, it would be more fun to think of him without having to play twenty-one questions with her over your thoughts about a stranger.

"I don't even know him. How could I have an answer."

She laughs, shaking her head as though something about your dismissal of her question is funny. She laughs like she knows something, and it irritates you. Moving away you drop a dirty shot tin into the sink, watching it slowly fill with sudsy water, sinking to the bottom with a soft clink against the enamel.

Eddie is not a coffee person. He'd watched Wayne drink it every morning for years, sighing after the first sip, face bathed in steam from the freshly brewed cup. When Eddie worked up the courage to try it, he poured a full cup, eager to prove a point. His first sip was hot, searing his tongue, bitter as if he were drinking charcoal. Topping it off with milk or stirring in spoonfuls of sugar never made it better; it just tasted bad.

He preferred his brew, cold and malty, on draft at the bar. So why was he once again in the drive-thru of the only coffee shop in Hawkins, eagerly anticipating you opening the window to hand him the cup of black sludge he wasn't going to drink?

God, would you even be at the window? Yesterday you had been outside, but today he's the only one here, crawling out of the bar a bit later than usual.

The thin panel slides open with a squeak, revealing you, fresh-faced, hair pulled back, a few loose strands framing your face sweetly. You smile at the sight of him, eyes crinkling around the corners, making his long night worth it, nearly convincing him he should just drink the damn coffee today, instead of pouring it out.

"Hi, there! Back for more of Hawkins's best coffee?"

Eddie desperately wants to smile, offer a witty reply, with a cool practiced tone, as if he talks to pretty girls all the time. Like the nymphs in the woods come to visit when he makes his way out to his old table in the woods.

But as usual, he's speaking before he can really think it through, words tripping into each other, pitching off his tongue clumsily, cheeks tinting a faint pink.

"How'd you guess?"

Maybe it's not the worst thing he could have said. You giggle softly, turning to pour his cup of coffee, shaking your head a bit.

"Mm, I dunno. Guess I'm hoping we haven't lost the monopoly on the Hawkins' coffee market since yesterday. Offers me some job security."

It's a weird response, long, and over-indulgent like you're humoring him. The way you say it, clearly, quietly, almost like you're knee-deep in sharing a secret, voice ringing with sincerity has him pausing with his fingers outstretched for the cup. For a moment, he's not sure how to react. Does he love this, or hate it? Are you playing along out of pity?

You look up, meeting him in the void between the drive-thru window and his waiting hand, fingers brushing his palm, sending a wave of heat through him, goosebumps erupting across his arms, skin tingling like he was shocked by a live wire.

"Oh yeah, that's a real concern in this town. Better make sure no one sneaks off with the secret recipe."

"Don't worry. If anyone did, it would be me." You say it lightly, winking as you drag your hand away from his, lips twisted up into a jovial grin.

"Smart girl."

The car behind Eddie honks, loud and long, tired of waiting for him to pull forward.

"Sorry," Eddie begins, hastily setting his cup down, dark liquid sloshing out, spilling over his hand. "Fuck. Sorry! Didn't realize anyone was behind me. I'll um- I'll see ya later."

He's pulling away before you can say anything, your balmy laugh chasing him, treacly and soft.

He'll go back tomorrow. He knows he will, even as he pours another wasted cup into the Munson yard.

"Hey Pam, we're out of cream and green tea bags."

Your boss looks up from her phone, glasses perched on the end of her nose, blinking slowly as she processes your words. "Cross 'em off on the menu."

She's looking back at her phone, an obvious dismissal, abundantly clear after the last time you asked her to restock before her usual shopping day. Nodding to yourself you step away, moving back to the small prep area, snatching the nearly empty tip jar off the window ledge.

"Krista, wanna go grab cream and tea at the store?"

She watches you count the change out on the sticky countertop, neatly stacking the change and uncrinkling the bills.

"That's not gonna be enough, Miss Overachiever."

You look up, fingers curling tightly around the bill you had just been dutifully smoothing out. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Once, twice, three times.

"I'm aware. Just trying to figure out how much extra I need to give you."

Before you can finish she's pushing her way in, sliding the coins off the counter into her palm, crumpling the few bills again as she shoves them into her pocket.

"You're pathetic, spending money on a job that pays fuckin' peanuts. It's gonna cost at least another five. I'm only going because I love you so much."

"What would I do without you?" You pull out the neatly folded money in your back pocket, all you had for lunch, and pass it over.

She's breezing out the front door, the bell jingling, giving you away. Thankfully you weren't trying to keep this on the down low. Sagging against the cool metal work table you plant your hands on the edge, wincing when your palm lands in a tacky, half-dry puddle of cream. God, this job.

Small towns don't lend many options, but surely there's someplace better than this. Peeking through the narrow window you take in the strip across from the shop, small businesses just opening for the day.

Your eyes catch on the LED signs lining the record store's windows. That could be promising, music has always been an easy escape, a world to disappear into. It couldn't hurt to stop by, ask around, see if you can convince them they need two more hands to stock shelves. Any more time here and you might end up in trouble like before. A change might be good, sooner rather than later.

"Alright, I've clocked out and wiped everything down for the night. You need anything else before I go?"

Pam doesn't look up, shuffling papers around on her cluttered desk, grunting in response. It's infuriating, the slight grating across your skin, itchy and hot. Why does she behave like this? Does it make her somehow feel better, powerful? You've worked with coffee before, it's the only reason she hired you, so why now are you so beneath her?

Taking this as your cue to go, you pivot on your heel, following the short hallway, shoving open the door with a stiff arm, enjoying the way it slams harshly as you exit. Maybe it's juvenile; hell, you know it is. But it feels nice.

The neon lights across the street call to you, orange and yellow and pink, promising something to ease the pain, a balm for another shift wasted. You start to cross the street, remembering to look for oncoming traffic at the last second, Docs scuffing harshly against the curb. You lick your thumb, bend over, try to soothe the rough patch away in vain. It's a tiny thing, the mark, the curb, the day in general, but suddenly everything is an avalanche. Teeth clenched so tight a sharp pain worms its way through your jaw, you straighten, growling out a repressed scream, nails biting into the delicate flesh of your palms.

Sky dark, sun dipping low as the peachy gray smear of dusk fades, you step out into the street, skirting a pothole, shoving your fisted hands deep into the pockets of your jacket. Ten more steps and you'll be crossing into warmth and a universal familiarity. Five more steps and the music will touch you, pick up the pieces of this day. Three steps and your fingers will be curling around the frigid handle of the door. Two steps, one, and then sanctuary.

Chimes above the door jingle softly, calling attention to your presence as you try to slip in unnoticed. The carpet is thin, rough, scraping against the worn soles of your shoes, hues of purple and blue rippling away from your feet in odd geometric patterns.

The store smells musty, an old, lingering smell, like it's never really been cleaned well permeates that air, mingles with the low sounds of guitar and bass trickling through the speakers around the store. Records are stacked neatly on the counter, high enough to hide whoever is working the register, business cards spilling across the surface that vinyl isn't occupying. The shelves are filled, new and used, categorized by genre, then alphabetized.

The general organization of it all had your toes curling in a simple sort of pleasure as you make your way deeper into the store, allowing your fingertips to brush along the faces of a few covers, smiling when you find one of your favorites.

Near the back of the space, the light dims, a small stage and seating area nearly concealed by the shelves and racks of records and vintage stereo and photography equipment. It's an odd assortment, none of it really cohesive, yet it fits all the same.

"Ten minutes 'til close!"

You jump, startled, turning to face the front. The counter is blocked from view, and you wonder if it is a general announcement or if you are expected to answer. All that's left to look at is a thin rotating rack with a hand-drawn sign above it that reads "Local Talent".

A cover catches your attention, crudely drawn, but with intent, with care, like the artist wanted nothing more than to see their vision to life by any means. The edges look burned intentionally, the design lingering with you, preventing you from skipping over it.

"Corroded Coffin," you whisper to yourself, fingers curling over the edge, tipping it toward you as though it's fragile, some great epiphany hiding just behind it. Nothing jumps out, nothing feels different as you flip the CD over, reading the song titles, feeling some odd sense of kinship forming with the mind behind these songs. You haven't even listened to it yet, and it's speaking to you like this, one of those instincts. When you know, you know.

Stepping away from the stand you hold the case close to your chest, protective, or using it as a shield from what you don't know, but it remains there until you get back to the front. The case hits the counter with a muted tap, cheap green laminate an ugly backsplash.

The man behind the counter is older, thick-framed glasses drawing your attention to the pale blue eyes that skirt over you, uninterested, assessing, quickly drawing judgment; you don't belong here. A beat passes before he reaches for the item you set down, scanning it and placing it in a bag.

"That'll be $12.97."

"Sure thing. Here ya go," you extend your hand, credit card dangling between limp fingers, confidence long gone, eager to run away. "It's um- This is a really nice shop."

"Thanks."

That's it. He passes your card back with the bag, not even looking at you, as dismissive as Pam. And it's even worse the second time around, bile churning in the pit of your stomach, inching up your throat, fingers twitching with anger, jaw ticking.

"Listen, actually, I came over to see if you need any help. Part-time, or full-time. I can stock, clean, run the register. I work at the coffee shop right over there." You pause to gesture uselessly, fingers curling into a fist mid-air. "I'm a hard worker. And I know music."

He does look at you now as you deflate, burst of esteem withering like a flower without sunlight, hungry and dying, crawling in on yourself. His face is riddled with doubt, lips twisted up like he smells something rotten, putrid, and noxious.

"We're not hiring right now, sorry."

He doesn't look very sorry as he shifts, getting to his feet, reaching for the keys at his belt pointedly.

"Okay. Thank you for your time."

The bells rattle again, far less cheery this time around, the sound is monotonous, hollow. As the metal door thuds closed behind you you shake your head, trying to dislodge the thoughts clawing their way up in your mind, decomposing figures breaking through the soil, ready to torment, ready to hurt. You just need it all to be quiet.

Jogging back across the road you pull out your keys and unlock your car, all but falling into the seat, unable to relax but dissolving into the worn fabric all the same. Assholes, all of them. Your fingers flex, squishing against firm plastic, reminding you of the new treasure clutched tightly in your hands. Tearing off the cellophane, crinkling it loudly in the stale air lingering in your car. The CD slides in, a soft whir as it begins to play, deep bass beginning to leak through the speakers, the ones that still work anyway.

It's real, the music, every note hitting some tattered cord within you, licking the pain away, replacing it with some small measure of relief. You can't help the smile playing on your lips, barely there, but there all the same as you slam the gear shift into drive. Apparently, not everything in this town sucks.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff

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rxin3akamallory · 1 year ago

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So I don’t know if I’m the only one who experiences this or not, but half of the time I don’t feel like a presence in the world. I don’t know if that’s was the right way to phrase it, but I’ll give an example.

When I go out with friends for example, I feel like I’m not really a part of the group half of the time. And it isn’t their fault, I just feel like a ghost half of the time though, like they don’t notice I’m there. Yesterday I had a really bad day dealing with it.

I say this because this is a trait Magril slowly grows from.

I may or may not have mentioned this already, but before Magril escaped, she was a lot like Rocket in Vol. 1, but with no one like Groot to bounce off of. She’s a part of batch 89, and sure she’s acquainted with Rocket and the others, but she never felt like she was a part of the group, figuratively and literally.

While everyone else’s cages were right next to each other, Magril was placed in a cage hanging from the ceiling on the opposite side of the room, so a lot of the time, she just watched the rest of batch 89 from below. And it wasn’t like they never talked to her, Rocket and his friends always tried to spark a conversation with her, but in the end, Magril felt extremely lonely when she wanted nothing more than to join Rocket, flying into the forever and beautiful sky with everyone.

What also didn’t help was the fact that Magril didn’t trust the HE from the very beginning. It pissed her off hearing Rocket and the others go on about how once they’re all ready, they’ll get to be a part of Counter Earth and live free easy lives. It made no sense to Magril though. Why did they have to be “perfect” to live free lives. Why did they have to go through tremendous amounts of physical and mental trauma just to live comfortably. It all sounded like a big joke to her.

The last conversation Magril had with Lylla was an argument in relation to this. And it wasn’t like Magril could even blame Lylla for having hope and trust in her creator when Magril didn’t have any concrete evidence to support her claims, but it still felt off to her that in order to gain freedom, they had to fit into the HE’s odd specifications. It didn’t feel like freedom at all.

Magril refused to listen to Lylla’s calm explanation and just yells at her, telling her to “keep living in your blind fantasies all you want! I don’t care! If we ever do make it out of this alive, the first thing I’ll do is tell you I told you so! Then we’ll see where your trust in sire’s at!”

Right after their debate, the HE enters the room and takes Magril out of her cage for some tests. HE heard Magril and Lylla’s conversation, finding it amusing that they even had a chance at being a part of his new society. Magril finds out the truth about Batch 89’s purpose of existence and snaps. She runs away from the HE and his guards, dodging bullets left and right.

While on the run, Magril froze in front of Batch 89’s cages. Rocket and the others are concerned and ask her what’s going on. After staying still for another moment, Magril could hear the guards getting closer and start running again. She eventually makes it to a small ship that was docked and hijacks it, taking off into the sky, leaving her birthplace and her friends behind.

Magril couldn’t forgive herself for how she acted toward Batch 89 while she was still in Halfworld, especially after she found out about Lylla, Teefs and Floor’s deaths. The memory of leaving her friends behind without telling them what she knew played over and over in her mind. Magril refused to let herself become that selfish again, and promised herself that she would never take other’s for granted, whether they deserved her kindness or not.

That’s another trait I have irl that is a struggle I battle with daily. I’m a huge people pleaser, just like what Magril becomes. Whether that’s a good or bad thing is up to you. So I end up giving people the benefit of the doubt and second chances all the time because I don’t bother to take my own feelings into account. Magril does this exact thing, until Rocket snaps her out of it and reminds her that her own feelings are still valid, right or not.

Something I’m currently writing with Rocket and Magril kinda delves into that aspect a little further but yeah idk I was just thinking about how bad my day was yesterday and was reminded of this part of Magril’s backstory.

————

☆彡 @raccoonfallsharder | @twigglestblog | @bakaotakulife

#guardians of the galaxy #gotg #guardians of the Galaxy vol 3 #gotg vol 3 #gotg oc #guardians of the galaxy oc #self insert oc #magril gotg #magril opossum #rocket raccoon #lylla otter #teefs #floor #magril x rocket #magril opossum x rocket raccoon #headcanon #angst #oc backstory

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nineliars · 1 year ago

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Im actually so freaking late bc I just finished mine liars BUT I’m so upset with David rn. I actually love him sm but I hate him. What is he? Im happy he and Stevie didn’t actually have sex bc if he broke up with her after that and just left ?? I would have been more sad for her. I understand he was overthinking but also kissing someone else? ?.!!./ outta pocket David 🙄

You’re so real for all of this. He is such a problem in this book. I love him but I’d also love to watch him slip on a banana peel into a dumpster or something.

Would it be crazy if I said that if they’d had sex, I don’t think David would have broken up with her? I’m not saying that because David is a horny scumbag who would’ve only stayed with her because they had sex, but I think from David’s POV, Stevie doesn’t love him as much as he loves her. (Whether that’s actually true is debatable, but unlikely imo given her reaction to being dumped.) Think about how Izzy first reacted to Stevie, like she was meeting a celebrity- because David had spent the last 3 months talking her up. In Stevie’s narration, she constantly frets about being perceived as intelligent, capable, and worthy. In David’s eyes, Stevie is all of those things already. I think David sees himself as a fuckup still, albeit one who managed to get his shit together long enough to spend a semester at Cambridge. He doesn’t know where he’s going next. (Neither does Stevie, but as she fails to realize, you get a little leeway when you solve the crime of the century twice.) David cuts off his nose to spite his dad, and even though it still shakes out alright for him, his future is even more uncertain than Stevie’s.

But Stevie isn’t perfect. She breaks down when she realizes she cannot solve the Nine Liars case in time to leave England. She can be utterly single-minded when it comes to solving the case, and the majority of the time, the breakdown in communication between her and David stems from her words/actions/missteps.

David clearly believes he is not worthy of Stevie and I don’t think he would’ve broken up with her unless he believed that she believed it too. Maybe if they had slept together, that aspect of their dynamic could have been a little more resolved– but maybe if she hadn’t been broken up with, Stevie wouldn’t have stayed behind in England in order to actually solve the case, which could’ve driven another wedge in between them. (Also, David snapping at Stevie before breaking up with her and saying “not everything is about you” makes me sooo sad because it’s another misread of what she’s feeling/thinking. I think Stevie felt really, genuinely guilty and upset when she thought she couldn’t solve Rosie & Noel’s OR Angela’s murders. The fact that Angela had disappeared immediately after talking to Stevie probably felt like Ellie all over again. David may have noticed this if he stopped being insecure for 5 minutes and thought about what was actually going on with Stevie. But I DIGRESS because this is getting way too long.)

As for kissing someone else I think his reasoning there was so simple actually: He feels as though he has fucked up all the things in his life worth trying for; Ergo, why not become a fuckup again? Drown your sorrows in tequila and kiss somebody you don’t know! All the kids are doing it!

I did not mean for this to turn into a dissertation on the dynamics of Steviedavid’s Nine Liars arc. I just can’t wait to see where they both go from here, because they are both kind of fucked up in the head, and they know that, and I think that will keep drawing them together as long as they’re in each others proximity. Good thing Stevie is returning home to America, where David won’t be…until, you know, his semester ends and he has to go home ;)

#truly devious #nine liars #nine liars spoilers #stevie bell #david eastman #anon #chelsea answers #steviedavid

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akechi-if-he-slayed · 2 years ago

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imo the perfect series finale for south park would be for them to dedicate their last couple of seasons to their junior + senior year of high school (yes live action because i think it would be awesome if done right, not insanely gritty and emo like riverdale). same startling humor and amusement, but kind of with a slightly more mature feel (because they are teenagers now after all; even though they don’t exactly “act their age” in the show, you can still tell their naive youth plays a big factor in a lot of their reasonings and motivations behind their actions and decisions) like yeah, they’re still being stupid and getting caught up in the weirdest shit, but this time they’re being dumb teenagers instead of dumb kids. also! feel like romance would definitely be a core thing, because you know. teenage hormones. no explicit scenes, but definitely make outs and the like, and their relationships would play a more crucial factor in the show. for example, i think that at the start of the live-action saga, wendy and stan would still be entertaining their on-and-off-again-friends-who-make-out-and-have-a-different-response-each-day-if-you-ask-whether-or-not-they’re-together and pretty soon, they’d eventually just break it off for good, and that would be a major coming of age moment for stan as he realizes he was only staying with wendy because she was “safe” and reminded him of being a kid.

PROM EPISODE (for junior year)!!! it would be so lit. huge, huge potential there to get everyone dolled up. stan and wendy would already be broken up by that time, so naturally stan and kyle would just go together as FRIENDS. MUTUAL BACHELORS. DEFINITELY NOTHING MORE….not like kyle turned down heidi’s ask because “i don’t want stan to feel alone” even though cartman and kenny don’t have dates either? also stan definitely doesn’t sneak a bottle in and definitely doesn’t skulk outside and kyle definitely doesn’t find him and just. sits and talks and just laughs and talks shit with him outside for the rest of the night and nothing is said about any sort of feelings kyle might have (if he’s even fully aware of them yet now that stan is 100% available for the first time in years) but. you can tell, everyone can tell that something is there, something is starting.

main highlights for this adaptation idea!

- bebe (cheer captain!) and wendy (heavily involved in asb, voted president senior year; there’s a whole episode dedicated to her campaign against kyle at the end of junior year, she wins by just a few votes) as the queens of the school, most popular girls (bebe in more of a gorgeous-can-have-any-guy-do-whatever-she-wants-and-have-them-all-want-her kind of way and wendy in a beautiful-and-powerful-top-of-the-class-but-definitely-not-an-outcast way)

- cartman still cartman but not nearly as volatile as he once was, still generally considered to be a dick, though. at first glance you think he’s a stupid football player meathead, but he’s actually incredibly smart when he wants to be, kyle is annoyed by this every time he shares an ap period with him and he actually does well.

- ordered class rankings (top 5): wendy (valedictorian), kyle, butters, cartman, heidi

- shelley moved across the country for college the second she graduated, so it’s just stan, randy, and sharon. naturally he spends the night at kyle’s so often that he leaves an overnight bag there and the broflovskis are never surprised to see him stumble out of kyle’s room in the morning

- bendy canon literally like two months after permanent stendy breakup. poor stan is helplessly confused: “has she been a lesbian this whole time????? did she think i was feminine??? is that why we were together for so long???”

- creek thriving as per

- kenny does musical theater and show choir. greatly enjoys it! butters is always front row and has never missed a performance.

- kyle captain of the debate team! wendy is vp, and there’s kind of been a weird tension between them ever since stendy split, you can practically hear her say “i know what you are.”

- stan enjoys volunteering at an animal shelter whenever he can, he keeps this a secret for as long as physically possible and this becomes a big plot point as he makes up increasingly suspicious and not very believable stories and excuses as for why he is rarely available after school despite having no job or clubs. rumors that spread: | randy has managed to get access to harder drugs and is using stan to deal them across south park | stan is a whore-for-hire and will give you an excellent bj if you pay up and meet him somewhere discreet (cartman started that one) | stan is part of a crime group conspiring to kill the mayor and control the city (this one has him end up at the police station with his head in his hands).

- gerald really wants kyle to be a lawyer and practically has all of his schools picked out for him, thereby unintentionally giving his son an existential crisis on what the heck he wants to do with his life because he does not want to do what his dad does but he also doesn’t have a good enough alternative to combat him.

- heavily hinted bunny, it’s literally right there but they tell everyone they’re just friends. ongoing gag of them being caught in compromising and/or suspicious positions but somehow having a seemingly reasonable explanation each time.

- college decisions would for sure be a big plot point towards the middle of their senior year, especially for kyle. he only applies to two schools and is accepted to both of them: princeton (college of his parents, their pick for him to study pre-law) and stanford (his pick, unknown to his parents that he even applied, to study psychology). yes it is absolutely insane that he only applied to two ivy leagues but what is even more insane is that his parents only wanted him to apply to princeton and no other schools. haha well now he has to explain to them that he is going to california and is not following their carefully constructed plan for his future haha

- stan is similar to shelley, he doesn’t really care where he goes as long as he gets to leave south park! he also knows he wants to do some sort of career helping animals but is unsure what exactly, so he just puts zoology as his major and applies to a lot of different schools. he ends up committing to uc davis! sharon is incredibly proud of him and cries when she sees the acceptance letter, randy is kind of bitter because he wanted stan to stay and help out with the farm since shelley booked it but eventually comes around (also stan would’ve gotten a job at 7/11 before he started working at tegridy alongside his dad).

- butters gets accepted to the university of rochester for biomedical sciences. kenny doesn’t plan on going to college, but him and butters decide to share a flat in the city, and kenny works odd jobs while also doing performances at various clubs in the at the area. also him and butters choosing to live together across the country is purely platonic!!! there is nothing romantic going on at all, they are just really good friends!! nobody buys this anymore

- cartman literally gets accepted to ucla on a full ride football scholarship for business management and it makes kyle want to tear him to shreds! liane would’ve absolutely somehow paid for his entire tuition anyway if she had to

i feel like the length of each episode would be about 45 minutes with the series finale being like 90 minutes, the first half being their graduation with wendy giving an incredibly corny yet oddly emotional speech as valedictorian that pretty much summarizes their entire lives in south park. and then the second half would kind of be just like providing conclusions and tying up loose ends such as:

- shelley flying back home for stan’s graduation and reconciling with him; she’s a junior at NYU and actually became a lot nicer and at peace with the world + herself after she was able to leave colorado

- randy actually having a good father-son moment with stan as they discuss his going off to school in california; stan realizes that his father definitely is not great, but he maybe also isn’t the worst person in the world

- a moment of “this is the last we’re ever gonna be like this, huh?” when the main four are hanging out at cartman’s, traditional teen paranoia of the future

- bunny finally 100% confirmed as scene shows with Kenny having his arm loosely hung around butters on someone’s couch, lightly pressed kiss on his cheek

ok i have a lot more but my #1 idea for the finale would be this:

- stan and kyle just aimlessly hanging out in the latter’s room about a week or two after graduation, easily talking about everything from college to music to new films to their friends; just enjoying each other’s company before fall comes (they are unbelievably dramatic. uc davis and stanford are like a hour’s drive away from each other but coming from best friends who have lived in the same city together their entire lives, an hour away may as well be a whole ass country away)

- occasional comfortable silence. kyle has come to terms with his feelings about stan at this point, but has chosen not to act on it in favor of keeping his longest friendship intact. nobody knows, he never told a soul. unbeknownst to him, stan has been accumulating the same feelings towards kyle, but likewise has been keeping them sealed tightly in so as not to ruin anything.

- eventually, they somehow start talking about relationships. stan never dated anyone else after breaking up with wendy at the start of junior year, and kyle has never truly dated anyone, not if you don’t count a faint fling with some loud city girl when he spent most of sophomore year summer with his mom’s family in new jersey. he came back from summer break more certain than ever that he was 100% gay. he recounts this story to stan for the first time (he’d been too embarrassed to tell anyone when he had come home) and it’s met with an enormous fit of laughter.

- they start talking about how weird it is to love someone, to have these strong urges and desires towards someone in a way that’s entirely unprovoked. to feel like you would do absolutely anything for this person, and to have life be unfathomable without them. they both agree on all their points, but no names are mentioned though!

- it’s the early morning hours before stan realizes how long they’ve been talking, and despite knowing he could stay the night, he decides to head home, suddenly flushed and overwhelmed with some sort of..something. does he really love kyle that much? in that way?

- the air is lightly tense as he leaves, kyle left feeling confused and slightly perturbed. against his butter judgment, he chases after stan outside, as he’s placing his key in his driver-side door to unlock his car.

- “wait!”

- stan turns his head, looking puzzled and faintly apprehensive. it’s summer, so the early morning is not bone-chillingly cold, yet also not as scorching hot as it will be come afternoon. it’s the perfect temperature, and it’s the perfect time, and before he knows what he’s doing, his feet are carrying his stiff, trembling body towards stan, whose eyes tell a thousand pictures despite his frame not moving a muscle.

- he stops in front of stan so that they’re gazing slowly, directly, meaningfully into each other’s eyes, and stan feels his throat go dry and his mind go blissfully blank. it’s slow and tender, the gentle yet firm way kyle stares up into his eyes, like he’s been waiting a lifetime for it (and he probably has) and he can feel his familiar breath whispering across his face, and all of sudden the careful movements, the gentle intention, all of it is gone in a flash.

- the very last scene of the very last episode of south park shows kyle slam his lips against stan’s, and then, lips still pressed together, the show ends.

#that was a lot wasn’t it #guys im sorry ive actually been fleshing out this idea on my head for so long #i have so many more ideas for this but i want this to be semi concise lol #can’t fit them all in might add as they come to me!#thank you so much if you read all of this mind jumble #live action high school south park is actually something that is so very special to me #i will also accept teenage south park in form of a graphic novel or comic series #thank u very much!#just wanna see these insane children act like insane teens is that too much to ask!#matt and trey boy have i got an idea for YOU!#make this happen and i promise we the people will be watching #thank you for your time everyone #live action south park #south park #sp style #sp bunny #sp bendy #south park high school au #side note here so i don’t add more cornball to the post: song to introduce the credits as kyle kisses stan would be #dog days are over #yeah #those dog days are really over for them!!#the kids are gonna be alright #yes i took beautifully talented singer kenny from the circus episode and RAN WITH IT

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