#WHY managers of food places want to keep sick employees around their food and customers I will never understand | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wildlyglittering · 4 years ago

Text

The Ones Before

Happy Sunday everyone!

Thank you again to those liking, re-blogging and commenting on my fic’s, I really do appreciate it.

I’m loving all the ACOSF inspired fic’s and fanarts that are being produced - and definitely all the critique!!

I hope you enjoy!

***

A hand pressed against his bicep as a low, husky voice murmured in his ear.

“General.��

The owner of that voice, an attractive red-haired female, placed a glass of dark liquid in front of him and squeezed her fingers around his arm.

Cassian’s muscles automatically flexed and the voice turned into a breathless giggle. “On the house,” she whispered, her mouth moving closer to his ear. Perhaps it was his imagination but it seemed that she had pushed her breasts against him so he would feel their firm swell against his shoulder.

He turned to her with a smile so charming that her face lit up like solstice lights. “Thank you,” he said, “but I can’t accept.”

Those ruby red lips of hers turned from a grin into a pout and once upon a time Cassian would have eased her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb before asking if there was anything he could do to put a smile back on her face.

Once upon a time. Not now.

Despite his rejection, she was undeterred.

“It’s our finest liquor, General. It’s incredibly silky as it goes down.” It was definitely not in his imagination that he saw the twinkle in her eye.

“I’m sure it is,” he said with a wink, “but let me rephrase myself – I won’t accept.”

The twinkle, much like the smile, disappeared. She frowned before snatching the glass and storming off, Cassian catching her stamp her foot as she left as though she were a petulant child and not a fae of likely over a century old.

Cassian chuckled and turned back to the table, picking up the drink he had. The beverage was sickly sweet and made from fruits that were imported into Night from Spring. It was Elain’s favourite and not at all Cassian’s. There were times when he missed the sharpness of wine or the spice of whisky but he reminded himself of what he gained by no longer drinking.

Early winter had come to Velaris and the city was bustling, its occupants rushing around hard at work or preparing for the solstice. Cassian was doing neither; a rare idle day off had lain ahead of him when he’d woken that morning.

The skies had been a bright, albeit pale, blue to start but had grown steadily gloomier before turning into an ashen grey with fat clouds that poured the rains down. The rain wasn’t the soft kind but the sort that smashed against the stones with such force that drops rebounded from the ground and back into the air.

A misty haze drifted around the footsteps of all the rushing fae, their shrieks filling the street as those without coverings ran for shelter from one building to another.

Cassian had been caught out when it started. The first rumble of thunder occurred when he was crossing the bridge and he looked down to see small droplets on the back of his hand. He stood, watching as the rain lashed into the river, mesmerised by the circles the drops created. His hair was drenched and he shook the strands around his head, laughing.

Storms never bothered him, the only reason he moved indoors was because he took up too much space outside for those who didn’t find getting soaked as delightful as he did. That, and his pending companion wouldn’t be too impressed to be made to hang around in the rain.

The café he settled in gave him a decent view of the streets and a prime view of the bridge ahead. Rainwater dripped from his hair when he tied it into a bun and he’d ordered himself his drink, delivered by an older female who wasn’t remotely interested in Cassian.

Fresh warm bread scented the place as the waitresses carried large slices, liberally buttered and served with thick broths in deep bowls, to surrounding tables. Despite the smell, he was content to drink his cordial and observe the world beyond the windows.

The clinking of plates from the table next to him drew his attention and he looked over to see the red-haired fae clearing crockery for the next customers. Although she was working, she was clearly keeping an eye on Cassian, probably waiting to see if he’d change her mind at her offer.

With her coquettish glances and the angle in which she now exposed her cleavage, it wasn’t only a drink she was offering.

A time existed once, when he would have charmed her and they would have removed themselves into the backroom of the café or even a room in the apartments above. Because he was the General, they would never have been reprimanded even if it left the café one employee down.

Admittedly something about the serving fae had captured his attention. Yes, flirtations from an attractive female were always flattering but he had entertained her smiles a bit more than he should have done in the circumstances.

The thrashing of the rain grew louder when the door to the café opened and a fae couple walked in laughing about their soaking clothes. The red-head walked past Cassian to greet them and as she did, her dress deliberately slipped, leaving a pale freckled shoulder to his view.

A memory flashed through Cassian’s mind and in an instant, he could place why she captured his attention so. It was a memory so dusty on the shelves of his brain that he was surprised it was even in the archives.

He was centuries old and he’d spent that time in a variety of ways. Chasing after attainable and unattainable females and fucking a fair few was very much on the list.

But everyone, even he, the fierce Lord of Bloodshed and General of the Night Court’s armies had to begin somewhere.

He’d lost his virginity not to a fellow Illyrian but a fae. She hadn’t been a female of strength or status and considering as Cassian was a bastard runt at the time, he couldn’t have even fathomed those females would ever be an option.

There had been a war. There was always a war.

The troop of Illyrians were on the outskirts of the Night Court and were setting camp around one of the smaller towns. A tavern with warm lights and a warmer hearth was tucked into one of the streets and he was sick of sleeping in the filth. The mud oozed its way into his fingernails and onto his hair and worryingly close to the fresh, open wounds he’d sustained while fighting.

Cassian had fought an Illyrian, broader and older than him and one that would have been stronger too if Cassian hadn’t been desperate. Cassian had pounded him into the ground, knuckles connecting harshly with bone, until the male had acquiesced, giving up the three gold coins Cassian wanted.

He’d sloped off to the tavern after his win, to bathe his body and tend his wounds in one of their boarding rooms. He wanted a decent night’s sleep someplace clean and comfortable and, if he’d had any coin left over, a hot meal.

The Illyrian’s in the tavern were either already in their own boarding rooms for the night, passed out in front of the drinking room fire or still drinking in darkened corners. If they saw Cassian, they paid him no mind, he was a tall thing with growing muscles but still on the wrong side of scrawny.

The only fae that looked at him was the female behind the bar.

She looked to be his age but where his skin was dark, hers was fair and where his was a mottled collection of yellow and black bruises hers was as smooth as cream. She had a mass of red hair which tumbled past her shoulders.

“What will this get me?” he asked and placed the coins on the counter.

She’d told him about a small room at the back he could take and the rest would pay for some slices of mutton. And that was all, she stressed, nothing else.

Cassian merely grunted at her, too tired and hungry to care about anything else that she may have implied.

They must have been used to Illyrian guests as their smallest lodging was still room enough for him and his wings. The bed took up most of the space and a narrow window gave him a view of the courtyard he didn’t care to see. When the food was ready the same red-haired fae brought it up to him and told him she would collect the plate in an hour.

Cassian tore into the meat and bread like a starved animal and when she came back to collect the plate as promised he nodded his thanks and carried on with his task. She’d paused by the door, hesitating.

His leathers and shirt were off and he sat, bare chested on the bed wrapping gauze around his middle with inexperienced hands, cursing when it slipped away.

“Here,” she said, “let me help.”

Her fingers were soft. It had been so long since he’d been touched by a female in any kind of manner. When he was a boy he longed for the touch of a mother but he was no longer a boy and a mother’s touch wasn’t on his mind anymore.

Her fingertips dipped and tucked around his skin, wrapping and folding the gauze so it held firm. All throughout she kept glancing from her task to see him watching her.

“You’re handsome,” she told him, “it’s in a rough way but you have a gentleness in your eyes.”

Cassian closed his eyes as her fingertips traced down his belly and lower and he shuddered when they dipped inside his leathers. Her lips placed a gentle kiss to the bruise on his cheekbone and then used her free hand to turn his face to hers.

Their kisses were slow, unpractised and wet. Their tongues sliding over each other until somehow, she was on her back on his small bed and he was nestled on top of her. When she guided his hand up her skirts and in between her thighs he discovered something else wet and his body hummed.

He didn’t make love to her but it wasn’t fucking either.

He was unskilled but made up for it with enthusiasm and he watched as the moonlit danced across her bare skin, highlighting the splattering of freckles across her shoulders and chest.

Cassian slept like the dead that night never knowing whether he’d passed out before she left or if she’d crept away in the night. Either way, in the morning she was gone and he was alone.

Despite the fact that he’d taken his pleasure but hadn’t managed to give her hers, she’d placed extra gauze on the wooden table by the bed along with a parcel of food, carefully wrapped up for him to take away.

She’d never asked for his name and hadn’t given hers either.

The continued laughing of the couple brought Cassian back to the café. That red-haired fae from the tavern would now be centuries old, like him, if she were still alive. The town that she lived in had grown to the size of a small city.

Whether the tavern still existed, Cassian didn’t know. Whether she was alive, Cassian wouldn’t know.

He was a nobody back then but it was no surprise that the red-haired fae in this café knew who he was.

Most, if not all, of the city knew who he was. Predominantly he was the esteemed General who had protected and fought for Velaris for centuries and a member of the Inner Circle, one of their High Lord’s most trusted confidantes.

The other facet of his reputation, and likely what the serving fae was interested in, wasn’t so much his prowess in battle as it was in bed. Cassian, and every female since the first, had one Illyrian female to thank for that.

Elvira.

By the time he’d met her he’d grown into a warrior of some esteem. Still a foot soldier and placed in the lowest ranks where Rhys’ father wanted him but the previous High Lord of Night couldn’t crush Cassian’s desire to succeed nor his natural talent at doing so.

He was broader by this point, the burgeoning muscles now in full growth and he ambled into camp with his war wounds now badges of pride.

Cassian was a long way off his nickname of Lord of Bloodshed but whispers spread amongst the camps of an Illyrian warrior, not even a century old, who was feared and revered in equal measure.

His success fed him even if Rhys’ father, nervous at the suggestion that Cassian was the reincarnation of the Illyrian’s first warrior, tried to starve him from his accomplishments.

Elvira had been in that camp, wings clipped and eyes hard. An immediate attraction existed between them and Cassian wanted her.

Luckily, she also wanted him.

After their first time, laying on the camp bed in his tent, he was cocky. You’re blessed, he told her, you’re in the bed of the best Illyrian. Her scoff followed by the comment about him not being the best Illyrian in bed wounded his pride.

He didn’t lick his wounds for long. Elvira was keen to teach and Cassian keen to learn and he liked to prove a quick study.

Cassian learnt the only way he could learn; through trial and error but with not much room for error. Soon he had it so Elvira panted desperately for her release, her fingers slipping on his skin for grip. Then, when they lay on the camp bed, their bodies coated in their mingled sweat, Elvira had no breath for comments.

Elvira didn’t do gentle and she never considered their acts as making love. Neither did Cassian. They were lessons in the art of fucking.

But some lessons were the hardest to learn.

Much like him, she was filled with rage and it exploded in a temper that was as hot as it was quick. Often their arguments were deliberate just so Cassian could fuck her anger out of her but when together they were flame and neither carried enough sweetness for the other to make their time anything close to joyful.

In the end they both fucked others and neither cared. As quickly as they came together, they fell apart and she drifted away to another camp.

Elvira was dead now. A name on a long list of Illyrians who perished in war. There had been so many that Cassian couldn’t remember which one it was.

Cassian let out a quiet sigh. His drink was now cloying, tasting too sweet against the bitter memories and he fought the temptation to have something stronger.

He had numerous encounters over the centuries and not all as sad as Elvira. In the sands of time, he’d had lovers who’d lasted hours and lovers who’d lasted months. There were those he left and those where they left each other.

Sometimes he wasn’t willing to let go first, they were rare, but they happened.

Mor came to mind. The difference was that he’d pocketed her away in a corner of his heart, one that held Az, Rhys and Feyre and even Amren - when he was feeling gracious.

Mor was the only lover who became a friend.

The night they spent together she was at her most beautiful. The bravado she would later have and that he would love was still developing. She lay back on his bed, the flames crackling outside his tent and her golden hair fanned across his pillow, a pale blush bloomed on her creamy skin.

Cassian was a means to an end that night but in truth, so was Mor. They became a tool for each other’s temporary destruction but then they became a tool for each other’s re-birth. He would always love Mor and she him.

There was only one other female from his past that he could say he adored for a time.

High fae were visiting Velaris from Dawn and she was one of the nobles, invited to the House of Wind as a special courtesy. She dressed in soft sunrise pinks and oranges, her hair a soft golden-brown caramel and she had sharp grey eyes.

Her appearance was gentle but she had her own mind and would speak it, although her opinions, even the forthright ones, were always tempered with kindness.

Cassian was older, sharper, more rough-hewn than before. He felt battle scarred and weary on a daily basis but at that moment he was amongst friends, drinking wine that tinted their lips ruby red and throwing back their heads in boisterous laughter.

The reason behind the Dawn Court’s political visit was long forgotten but Cassian would always remember her.

She strode over to him, her beautiful face with cheekbones sharper than any blade but holding a tender smile.

“My name,” she told him, “is Lyla. Yours?”

He’d introduced himself and, like the gentleman he wasn’t, kissed her palm.

“I’d like a drink Cassian and a tour of the balcony if you would.”

His grin was borderline feral.

Lyla smelt like jasmine and roses and every chance Cassian had he pressed his nose into her skin, inhaling as deep as he could to capture it into his lungs forever. That night he showed her the Night Court stars and the next, his scars.

Every night after was spent in his bed.

When the Dawn Court left to continue their tour, Lyla stayed behind for almost a year.

Mor teased Cassian relentlessly. “Is she yours?” she jested. “Is this it for our beloved Cassian? Lost forever in the endless drudgery of matehood?”

He’d laughed it off but secretly hoped it was.

He’d sometimes dream of a figure and the image that passed through his mind was always one with golden-brown hair and grey eyes. In his dreams he always tried to reach her, this female who was permanently one step away. Every time he got close, she seemed to slip down a corridor of a labyrinth she’d built up around her.

At times he would get close enough to touch the strands of her hair and as she turned a corner, he would glimpse a striking cheekbone and chilling glare.

On waking he would reach for Lyla, warm and supple in the bed next to him. “You were running from me again,” he murmured and placed hot kisses down her throat.

“I would never,” she gasped as he drew closer, unlacing the front of her nightgown and bearing her breasts.

“Hmm, but you did,” and a nipple would disappear into his wet mouth as he slid warm fingers up her thigh. She squirmed delightfully and the sun would break over Night, filling the room.

“And you glared at me,” he would continue as his mouth travelled down her body as he lifted the nightgown up. Cassian would nuzzle his face at the juncture between her legs, and languidly lick her as though he were eating cream from a spoon.

“Oh, I would never.”

Cassian waited for the mate bond to snap but it never did. After another half year had passed, he realised that he didn’t want it to.

Lyla was too good for him.

He licked honey from her body and couldn’t distinguish whether the sweetness was that or her skin. Her hands, smooth as butter, caressed his, snagging on the coarseness of his palms. She would talk about her friends and family, eyes drifting to the windows in longing while patiently spending all her time with his.

Cassian watched as Lyla pined for home.

“Perhaps,” she’d asked him, “Dawn would be a home for you too?”

It would never be and they both knew it. Cassian also understood that while it wasn’t love for him, it was for her. Maybe it could have grown in time but he wondered if it was fair for to Lyla to wait while Cassian forced it to root.

It could be years, Cassian told himself. Or decades. Centuries even. Time is nothing when you are immortal.

Eventually the sweetness would have turned to sorrow while Lyla waited for something that may never happen and that’s why Cassian told her to go. No, it wasn’t love but it still hurt.

Years later, possibly a hundred of them, he was on a visit to Dawn and enquired about her. Thesan had surprised him by making arrangements and there she was, visiting his guest suite one afternoon as beautiful as ever.

She had mated to a Peregryn. She’d smiled at Cassian, her familiar happy smile and said, “I’ve always liked winged males.”

Cassian’s hug lifted her from the ground and no more was to be said.

Cassian’s reverie was broken by the chime of the door as more and more fae rushed in. The sky outside had now darkened to charcoal and the rain was showing no sign of slowing. Inside the café, the fae lights lit up and flickered around the trailing ivy draped across the walls.

Another couple had entered and chose to sit in the alcove to Cassian’s left, pressed as close as could be decent in public. Cassian observed them for a second and felt his lips twitch into a smile. The years had turned him into a sap.

There had been too many females to count; multiple hair colours, eye colours and skin tones. A variety of accents and scents.

Then her but before her, during the time in which they sized each other up like dogs of war, there was another.

Cassian rubbed his hand over his face. That year held a long, cold winter and an unrelenting hot summer. Both were filled with anger and vile words. It was no wonder Cassian sought comfort in the arms of someone who wanted to comfort him.

He’d been simultaneously dealing with the discontent within the camps that grew from rebellion into civil war and a personal, much smaller scale rebellion at the request of his High Lord and Lady. Nursing a wounded ego, wounded wrist and what appeared to be a wounded heart he fled back to Velaris to find solace in the drinks at Rita’s.

A beautiful blonde had approached him. She recognised him, had knowledge of his reputation and knew what she wanted. It suited him just fine.

He’d fucked her against his bedroom wall in the House of Wind. He’d fucked her on his bed, against the silk sheets that were luxury in comparison to the rough blankets in his Illyrian cabin. He fucked her from behind and she rode him until her knees gave out. Cassian made sure it lasted the entire night and the next morning her voice was hoarse.

It made him feel better. For a moment.

Cassian hadn’t bothered washing the fae’s scent from him when he flew back to the cabin. It was a vindicative move but felt like a victory when he saw the reaction it had.

Was it worth it? It didn’t matter now. It had been so long ago, half a century - perhaps more.

That blonde, the one whose name he couldn’t remember because ultimately it was never of significance, was the last female who would grace his bed before the one who mattered did.

That female, he’d said once, was the last female I fucked before the last female I would ever fuck. Cassian grinned at that memory and the subsequent reaction from the other fae in the conversation.

You coarse bastard – you refer to what we do in our bedroom as fucking? I’m your mate. Give it a more respectful name. Her eyes had narrowed and her glare was ice, her posture rigid.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Cassian nodded “whatever you say.” He decided to not mention how, on the morning of that conversation, when they were performing the very act that apparently required some reverential anointment, she had begged him to ‘fuck her harder.’

The current colour of the sky reminded him of her, mainly of the dresses she wore; deep grey embroidered with silver thread, but also of her eyes. Those blue-grey eyes would change shade dependent on her mood. Blue when contented and grey went irritated.

Whether it was magic or a trick of the light Cassian didn’t know but they were often bluer than grey most days.

A crack of lighting and rumble of thunder turned into shrieks as fae ran from the bridge to get out of the storm. All the while Cassian sat at his table in front of the window watching,

He once lied that he wasn’t concerned about who she lost her virginity too, he’d taken the virginity of many but there had been a time when he thought he would be involved in hers too. There was a sadness in that train of thought, that he hadn’t been the one to give her an experience worthy of who she was.

Their first time together was filled with resentment and anger so it was the other times that held more meaning. He remembered when they were on the mountain and the rain drops shone in her hair like jewels. He was overwhelmingly consumed with love for her.

There was time after time where they fell into each other, desperate for the feel of each other’s skin that they shredded through clothes. There had been the soft times where he pressed his mouth against hers, looking into her eyes while their bodies joined.

There had been that very morning and the night before. And the night before that one. She was hungry for everything these days and he grinned at the thought.

On the bridge a group of fae scattered, not to escape the weather but to make way for someone approaching. It wasn’t that they moved out of fear although she did still carry a certain reputation, but an element of her presence commanded respect.

Cassian’s grin turned into a chuckle as she moved nearer. She was using her magic as a barrier against the rain and instead of it hitting her, it lashed out at anyone too near. Despite this, the bottom of her dress was soaked and she wore a scowl on her face only Cassian found charming.

He waved the red-haired fae over and her face lit up until she realised who was heading their way.

“A bowl of your best stew please,” he gestured towards the window, “she hungry.” He paused, “And grumpy.”

Colour leeched from the fae’s face and she rushed off quicker than he’d ever seen anyone move. The door chimed again to announce its newest arrival.

Nesta. His Nesta. The only female he would ever lay beside again, the only female he would want to lay beside again.

He stood to greet her and she glided over to him, an act which was getting more difficult for her each day. “This weather,” she bit out, “ridiculous. It makes everyone ridiculous.”

He cupped her cold face in his palms and leant forward, kissing her forehead. When he pulled away, she gave a little sigh.

His ever so slightly mellowing Nesta.

He got her settled and the serving fae placed a bowl in front of her before making a hasty retreat. “Thank goodness,” Nesta said, “I’m starving.”

Cassian was content to watch as she picked up her spoon and tucked in. Loose strands of hair framed her face and there was the hint of some freckles on her nose, remnants from the summer when she went to visit Elain.

He would be content to watch her forever.

Reaching out with a hand, he pressed his open palm against her growing stomach. Nesta didn’t break stride, one hand spooning stew into her mouth while the other came to rest on his, their fingers curling together.

Cassian knew when they’d conceived.

It had been one of their visits to Illyria, Cassian for routine training and inspection and Nesta to get some space.

It had happened on the third day.

Nothing unusual had occurred, just simple domesticity in the cabin they shared. Nesta looked so lovely by the fire, her hair loose around her shoulders while she read. A thick blanket was tucked around her and her entire pose indicated nothing but pure relaxation aside from when she occasionally quirked an eyebrow.

That, and the dusky blush on her cheeks, was how Cassian recognised she was reading on of her erotic stories.

He’d placed an open-mouthed kiss on her shoulder. Nesta smelt like the smoke from the fire but tasted as fresh as mint. The little gasps she made as he continued down her body gave him all the encouragement he needed and she buried her fingers in his hair, the book falling with a thud.

Whatever the characters in her story were doing, Cassian could do better.

Soon it was nothing but their naked bodies pressed against each other, sweat coated skin slipping against skin. The firelight danced around them, shadows highlighting the curves of Nesta’s body as she writhed beneath him.

He was on her, in her, around her. His winged body taking up space on the rug. Nesta, his proper Nesta, who stood spine straight and unsmiling in public had sucked his thumb into her mouth, tongue flickering against his flesh, her pupils so large her eyes were black.

Cassian fucked her so hard that when her release came, she arched her back wide off the ground. He’d grabbed her thighs and hoisted her upwards, opening her up further so he could drive in deeper.

Afterwards they lay in front of the glowing embers, sweat cooling and he kissed her breathless because he never wanted to not be kissing her.

The rest of their time in Illyria was filled with duties that took Cassian away and it was a few days after their return to Velaris that he noticed a change in them both. A slight alteration of her scent and a distinct primal urge within him to tear apart any male who looked at her.

Cassian felt their baby shift underneath his palm, moving around for space, maybe even stretching its developing wings.

Nesta made a contented noise, food devoured. She rested her other hand against her stomach and leant back in her chair, looking out the window. “I’m surprised you didn’t want to sit further into the café, the alcove looks cosy.”

“I like watching the city.”

Nesta squeezed his fingers as the baby shifted particularly firmly. She sighed and Cassian saw her look out towards the bridge. “There’s not much to see in this spot.”

“I don’t mind,” Cassian said. “All this time, I was waiting for you.”

#nessian #nesta archeron #nesta #cassian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron x cassian #cassian x original characters #fanfiction #nessian fanfiction #nessian fan fic #nessian fanfic #i wrote something #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosaf #acosf #sunday fic post

67 notes · View notes

jamilelucato · 4 years ago

Text

The History Of Wrong Guys

Pairing: Bill Weasley x reader (platonic)

Based on the song The History Of Wrong Guys, from the musical Kinky Boots.

Summary: you and Bill are co-works and suddenly you noticed you were thinking about him a little too much.

Musical Hogwarts List

A/N: there’s a little twist at the end and that’s all I’m gonna say.

You’ve been working for the Gringotts Wizarding Bank for six years. Things were always the same — you were responsible for paperwork; contracts, international business, and client interactions. Literally, anything that the goblins didn’t feel like doing was your job.

Simple, easy and money guaranteed.

Working behind a desk was kind of boring, but you weren’t the only wizard around — there were other two working with you. Other two really old co-works who had been there for Merlin-knows how long an didn’t like to chat, but still... not alone, you know.

Jannet and Gabriel — the other two wizards around — use to say your habit of chatting, making jokes and treating work with fun ways was going to get you fired but there you were, six years of doing it and no goblin asked you to leave.

Jannet was more susceptible to talk, but she was a bore. She refused to know anything muggle-related — even though your jobs were very much like muggles — so she didn’t get any of the references you mentioned.

Rumours about the rising of He-Who-Most-Not-Be-Named were circulating around the Bank, and much to you and your wizard co-workers dismay, the goblins seemed really found of having the Dark Lord around.

The only good thing those rumours got you was your new desk neighbour: Bill Weasley.

Bill was tall and ginger, with beautiful eyes — not that any of this matters. Anyway, Bill used to do curse-breaking work, but he was having some issues with his family — as if you didn’t know about the Order of the Phoenix — and so he had to be relocated to your workplace, in Diagon Alley.

Bill was a blessing to the place.

At first, you two never talked. It was only “good morning” and “have a nice weekend”, but it all changed when, without notice, you said out loud one of the catchphrases from one of the muggle shows you were watching.

See, this would generally pass unnoticed, because Jannet and Gabriel had no idea what that was about and they only thought you were crazy, but Bill knew what show you were referencing. He knew and he replied with the answer of the catchphrase!

And since then you two had managed to become friends, exchanging jokes and funny remarks every time you guys had a break. You even shared lunch two days in a roll because Bill’s mom didn’t have time to prepare it (yep, you made fun of him because of it).

Sometimes it felt like he was trying to recruit you to the Order of Phoenix but you were never sure because he never went through with it — he’d walk away before finishing his questions.

You never pressured him about because if he asked, you’d be tempted to say yes, but, truthfully, you really didn’t to be a part of it.

One day, you two took your break for lunch together, so you sat at the same table at the Leaky Cauldron.

“It’s nice having a co-worker,” he commented in between bites.

“You worked alone? When curse-breaking, I mean,” you asked, avoiding gazing at him for too long. You noticed you had been doing it a lot lately.

“It’s generally a one-person job,” he explained, shrugging. “Never wanted to leave for an adventure?”

“Ah,” you sighed, playing with your food. That was a sensitive matter for you. “Never had the guts.”

“What a horrible example for your fellow feminists,” he mocked, almost choking with his food while laughing.

With the fork, you threw a pea in his face.

“Hey!” he shouted, still laughing.

“Don’t ever say I’m not feminist enough, Weasley,” you warned, raising a brow, but inside you were laughing as well.

“I didn’t say that,” he smirked.

You exhaled, letting out a small giggle. He was going to drive you crazy...

“Let’s go back, or we’ll be late,” he pressed you to fast eat — which he knew you hated.

“I still need to pay, Weasley,” you pointed out, tossing food in as fast as you could.

“I’ve got you covered, y/L/N,” he said, showing you the receipts.

Without even noticing, you blushed. He was a gentleman and you didn’t deserve it. All those years complaining about Jannet and Gabriel finally had paid off.

When you arrived at the Bank, a beautiful, blond, tall and thin woman started walking towards you. She probably wanted something — the goblins left pretty girls at the door to attract customers, which was an excellent tactic, but then they never knew how to differentiate who was a customer and who was an employee.

You were getting prepare to shove her off when she reached for Bill’s arms.

“Thought we were lunching together, Bill,” the blondie said with a heavy French accent.

Bill blushed.

“Oh, Merlin, I’m so sorry, Fleur, I completely forgot... I was able to head out early and I didn’t...” Bill’s tone showed concerned, and you noticed he was scared of her.

You watched the scene quietly.

“It’s okay, love, I am not angry,” she said, smiling. “Do you still have time left?”

Bill looked at his watch and then at you.

“A couple of minutes,” he informed her, not daring to look back at you again.

And you understood — he wanted you to disappear. So you rushed to the lift, hoping, praying for it to open and fast.

Once the door opened, you practically jumped in and pressed all the buttons so it would close.

Why were you feeling like that?

“Oh no, you don't dare. Girl, girl, girl, I'm warning you!” you shouted aloud in the elevator, not really caring because you were alone. You facepalmed. “No! I think I have a crush. I can't. I think I'm falling for him...Oh no...”

That was why you felt weird back then. You were jealous.

You shouldn’t be felling that, but then again, women have been making bad choices since the beginning of time. Are you gonna be another one of mine? you thought, used to think he was from outer space. Who's that bright-eyed guy in your place? He’s kinda cute when he’s not so shy...

“But I've been here before. Have I come back for more?” you talked to the reflection of yourself in the mirror of the lift. It was another chapter in the history of wrong guys.

You turned around, pressing your back in the mirror. “Bill, honestly, I've been hurt like this before. Is there really more to you than what I always thought?” you whispered, groaning. “How can you surprise me anymore?”

Fine, you had a crush on him. But you were, clearly, not the only one; I mean, that blondie downstairs was all over him...

It’s okay, love, her voice echoed in your head.

“He's got a girlfriend, you flake!” you slapped yourself, really hard. “Why are they only nice when they're unavailable?!”

You didn’t wanna be another star-crossed lover, you knew how that ends.

“I’m better off without him. We’re better off as friends,” you said aloud, hoping those words would fix in your mind.

It was definitely another chapter in the history of wrong guys. After all, yesterday, no spark, no heart aching allure. But today you felt something impossible to ignore.

Let me clear the history of wrong guys for all of those wondering:

Chapter One - He's a bum;

Two - He's not into you;

Three - He's a sleaze;

Four - Loves the girl next door;

Five - Loves the boy next door;

Six - Don't love you no more, makes you insecure, makes you so unsure, is so immature, loves his mother more

He has a girlfriend named Fleur.

The elevator door opened when you rushed out of it. You sat down at your table but you were unable to find a good position. After all, all of them faced Bill’s table.

How were you going to look at him now? Merlin, you had spent most of the time flirting with him, openly! He probably knew you liked him, and even if not, he would find weird if you suddenly stopped.

And if you didn’t stop, you were going to fall for him deeper than you had already.

It was funny how he needed to have a pretty girl around to make you realized you had feelings for him. And funny how you thought he’d pick you.

“Where are you going?” asked Jannet.

“Home,” you answered, gathering your things from your table.

“What? Are you—”

“I’m feeling sick, Jannet. I’ll be back tomorrow, okay, don‘t be a bore,” you said, rolling your eyes, before hurrying to the lift again. You just hoped Bill wouldn’t pop out of it.

***

You stared at your ceiling for the whole afternoon. And after eating dinner, you kept looking at it.

What were you going to do? You couldn’t keep taking leaves.

Perhaps this was a sign from the universe for you to get the hell out of there.

You hated that desk job, you hated the temperatures in London, you hated your flat...

***

Arriving at the Bank, you rushed to your supervisor before even saying good-morning to the goblins around.

“Is Bill’s old job still available?” you asked the boss goblin who didn’t even look awake yet.

“I’m sorry?”

“Bill Weasley’s old job. Curse-breaker,” you said as if you were in a hurry. And you were, because, if it didn’t do it today, you wouldn’t do it ever. “Is it still available?”

“Yes, but—” the goblin looked around his office, maybe he was looking for some paper.

“No buts, I want it. I’ll go, wherever you want me, just say.”

“Are you sure about that, miss y/L/N?” he asked, taking off his glasses.

“Yes, I am. I’ll go right now if you want.”

“Okay, okay. I see you are committed. I’ll work things out.”

You smiled and sat down at the chair in front of you. The goblin didn’t seem to like, but he said nothing else and you waited there for your further directions, pressing your purse against your fast-beating heart.

***Months later...

In your hand was a letter that you did not expect to receive.

They really had given you Bill’s old job, so your new home was now Egypt. It was hot in the day, cold in the night, exactly the type of weather you liked.

Also, the adventures couldn’t be better. There was always a new curse to break — at first, it was hard because you had lost the hang of things wand-related, but soon enough things were exciting as ever before in your life.

But, coming back to the letter in your hands...

William Arthur Weasley and Fleur Isabelle Delacour, together with their families request your presence at the celebration of their marriage.

It followed with the date and place but it wasn’t that part that you were rereading non-stop.

Bill was going to marry and with blondie from work. Oh my, Merlin.

That was definitely another chapter in your history of wrong guys.

***

“You came!” shouted a happy Bill Weasley, wrapping you around his arms. Such strong arms... Again, not the point.

“I replied the invitation, didn’t I?” you said, with a sad smile that he thankfully couldn’t see because your face lied on his shoulder.

“Yeah, but I just...” he put you down, letting you go from his embrace. “You left with just a note, y/L/N. Not very friend-like.”

You pressed your lips together, raising your brows.

“Sorry, Weasley. They offered me the job—”

“—my job—” he interrupted.

“— and it was then or never.”

“I bet it was my conversation. When I said you were a bad feminist—” he looked down at his feet.

“Hey,” you reached his chin with your hand, raising his face. “You didn’t offend me. I needed that wake-up call.”

He smiled, blushing and you started to feel nervous. What were you doing, making a married man blush? You took a step away just for precaution.

“So, how do you like the ceremony?” he asked.

“It’s beautiful, so enchanting... You are crazy to get married at times like this, but I’ll give you credit for the decoration,” you ramble. “Although, I’m pretty sure the credit goes to Fleur.”

“Fleur,” he corrected your pronunciation but then smiled. “And yes, the decoration was all her.”

You smiled back, embarrassed for having said her name wrong.

Another red-head appeared all of a sudden next to Bill, and he had a beautiful smile. He was shorter than Bill, but not at all uglier because he had strong arms and a well-taken-care-of hair.

Sure, Bill had lost part of his charm because of some scars — a werewolf attack that didn’t work out, he explained — but he was charming in the tux. Nonetheless, the man at his side was even hotter.

“Who’s the pretty girl, Bill?” he asked, showing a voice that only completed the package. “Thought you already had a pretty girl for yourself.”

Bill sighed, half-smiling, half-serious. Only he could do such a thing.

“Charlie, this is y/N,” Bill made the honours. “Y/L/N, this is Charlie. My younger brother.”

“Younger, but hotter,” said Charlie, giving you his hand. “Nice meeting you, y/N.”

“Can say the same, Charlie,” you replied, noticing how calloused his hand was. That boy was not only a pretty face but also a hard-working man? Was that family a pot of gold?

Bill coughed, calling the attention back to himself.

“Well, now that you two know each other—” but Bill was never able to finish because Fleur pulled his arm and took him to dance floor, not even saying sorry to you or Charlie.

“Now what, brother?” Charlie asked making you laugh with his easy humour.

He then offered you his hand and you didn’t understand why until he tilted his head towards the dance floor.

“Oh, I don‘t really...”

“Come on,” he grabbed your hand anyway, and since you stopped complaining, he took it as a yes.

You smiled at him and passed your arms around his neck while he embraced your waist. It felt completely natural like you two had done it many times before. From where you were standing, you could see Bill and Fleur having fun, but the image didn’t seem to bother you anymore.

“So, how come I didn’t know you?” Charlie asked, trying to make conversation.

“I’m living in Egypt now— long story,” you added when you noticed he raised his brows. “Well, actually, I’m now in Romania, in the country’s capital. Haven’t memorized it yet.”

“No way!” he dropped your waist and stopped dancing.

“What?” you asked confused.

“I live in Romania,” he explained, stepping next to you again and grabbing your waist as if he had never stopped.

“Well, then maybe you can be my tour guy,” you said, smiling to him. “I’ve been just organizing an apartment; I know noting of the country yet.”

“Of course! Well, I’m more in the North, but I can pass at the capital at any time.”

You two stayed talking all night. It was nice to know that, although he worked with dragons and you worked with charmed objects and goblins, you two had a lot in common.

He didn’t have much knowledge around muggle’s TV shows, but lately neither have you. It was hard watching things in Egypt because it was generally in a language you didn’t speak and you hadn’t had the time to even find a TV in Romania.

Charlie managed to distract you all night, and if it weren‘t for the terrible silence that fell upon the party when a magical announcement happened, you wouldn’t have noticed how in danger you were.

“You need to Apparate out of here,” you screamed at Charlie who was now up next to you and you grabbed his hand. That made him gasp, surprised for a second but it was an automatic reaction for you with all those months undoing curses, you knew your safety instructions.

“You are the one who needs to run,” he shouted over the noise.

“I’m not going anywhere — I’m gonna help them fight,” you said. “It’s nothing I haven’t done at work before. Only ten times worse, but I can handle it.”

Funny how before changing jobs, you would have run away as quickly as possible.

“You need to go, Charles, now!” you shouted, before exploding a spell in the face of a masked wizard.

“I’m not going anywhere, y/N!” he yelled back, using his wand against another couple of dark wizards.

You two quickly exchanged looks, both raged with anger, but not at each other.

Even though you two were fighting facing a number way bigger than just the two of you, neither of you dropped each other's hand during the whole thing.

“Watch out!” you shouted, before attacking a man behind Charles that he did not have seen.

Charlie ducked just in time and the other wizard fell in pain.

“Charles, follow me,” you requested, squeezing his hand and running out of the wedding tent.

“When this all ends, woman, I’ll follow you to the ends of the Earth,” he replied with a smile. You looked away but not in time for him to not see you blushed. And that simple reaction made his night.

It was definitely a new chapter for the history of wrong guys. But, perhaps this time it was going to have a happy ending.

#bill weasley #william weasley #bill weasley x reader #bill weasley x you #bill weasley x fleur #bill weasley fanfic #hp #harry potter #charlie weasley #charlie weasley x reader #gringottsbank #hogwarts #one shot #kinky boots

141 notes · View notes

sweetchup · 4 years ago

Text

N.E.R.D.S

Type: Shalnark x reader

Au?: None

Word count: 3,000+

Warnings: Slight Mature content, Slight Yandere/Stalkerish themes, and Shalnark being a Shark

Today was going to be the last day. The last day at this terrible job. After this shift you were going to call up your boss and officially quit.

At first working at a nearby Cyber Cafe sounded fun. It was close to your flat and had a reasonable paycheck. Plus being surrounded by video games and fellow nerds sounded even fun. Yet it wasn’t. You should’ve walked out on your first day, for in the very first moments of walking into the place you stepped onto a melted, probably expired as well, chocolate bar. In your brand new shoes as well. It was disgusting and tragic, yet not the worst thing that has happened at this job.

In a simple sense while you worked here you weren’t an employee of a fine establishment, you were basically a servant. You were called upon again and again to make food and drinks for people, picked up after people when they left, yelled at when prices were too high or you told them what to do, jeered at by your boss, deal with horrible and lazy coworkers and had to fix the computers when they broke down (instead of taking it to a proper tech shop).

Most of the time, you could deal with that. You would just bite your tongue and give your most friendliest employee smile. But in no ways you could handle the many costumers you were groped or harassed by. Half the time you just wanted to take one of the electric cords, wrap it around their neck and just strangle them. But you were a reasonable person, a responsible adult so you would just report it to your manager. Though, of course, the situation was mostly just shrugged off. According to him, customers know best. What a load of bullcrap.

If customers truly knew best then why were you on your knees cleaning the 33th piece of trash scattered at this computer station. Hell you had filled 1 ½ trash bags just by yourself from cleaning up after people. That was too much. They should know how to pick up after themselves, you aren’t their mother.

Stretching and popping your back, you stand up. All the empty stations were finally sparkling cleaned. Though it did come at the price of your back. You’ll probably need to see a chiropractor or at least get a message from all the leaning and bending over you do at your job.

It also didn’t help that your coworker, Susan, called in sick last minute so you were stuck with an extra shift today and the graveyard shift at that.

“Sick my ass..” You grumbled under your breath, making your way back to your desk in the corner.

Since the place wasn’t busy tonight you could probably get away with watching anime or playing a new game. Hell even a nap if you got comfortable enough. Yet you stop when you see someone. His head was down on the desk but you knew it was him just from his golden hair being lighted up from the computer screen.

‘What was his name again? Shalnark? Yeah shalnark.’

Shalnark was an unfamiliar face. He showed up randomly at the cafe three days ago. It was pretty hard not to notice him. Wearing a lilac purple outfit and a constant smile on his face, he hadn’t moved since he entered. Tapping away constantly at the computer in front of him. He had been pretty nice to you and even cleaned up after himself. You actually liked talking to him the few times you talked. Though it was somewhat creepy when for some reason he knew your name when he first checked in. Though that was probably due to your name tag or maybe you had met once before at a party or something, you seemed close in age.

On top of that it was gobsmacking, yet pretty impressive, that he has slept once in the 3 days he’s been here. The other coworkers caught onto it as well in their shifts when you weren’t here. Yet it seems even Shalnark can’t run away from Father Sleep. Especially based on the fact he was currently faced down on his desk, with empty coffee cups surrounding him of course.

Suddenly you shiver as another puff of cold air comes out of the air conditioner. That was another thing you didn’t understand about the owner. Why in the world did he keep the cafe at freezing temps? Even in the winter right now. Biting your lip and rubbing your hands across the thick sweater on your arms for warmth you look concerned at Shalnark.

Was he cold? Normally you wouldn’t care about customers but he seemed like a nice guy, well except for the first time you talked but even then, it was probably your name tag. You just couldn’t help but be concerned since he was wearing a tank top in the winter.

Making up your mind you grabbed one of the many blankets and pillows in the lobby and walked over to him. Shakily you stand over him, slightly scared to wake the attractive man up from his slumber.

As you think over your decision you notice something interesting on the computer screen in front of you.

“The Dragon Eye Collection…”

It was on his notepad too. Why was he researching the Dragon Eye Collection? Sure they were a collection of 5 of the most beautiful fire opals in the world. But they were owned by the emperor, more like dictator, HuinYa Fushi of the Baiys Region. Due to his way of ruling with an iron fist, no one knew what they looked like or where they were exactly located, all that people knew was that they definitely exist. What in the world would Shalnark want with that? Was he maybe a reporter or even a Gem hunter? Though that wasn’t any of your concern. You shouldn’t pry into someone's life or business like that anyways.

Placing your hand on Shalnark’s shoulder you ever so lightly shake him. How was he asleep? His skin was practically frozen to the touch.

“Mr Shalnark?”

After a few more soft calls of his name he finally awoke. Sitting up, he squints under the computer’s harsh glow and looks over to you. He blinked a couple of times more, clearing struggling to keep himself awake. Though the bags under his eyes already told you he was plenty sleep deprived.

“I’m sorry for waking you, Mr Shalnark. But I came to bring you a blanket and a pillow. I wouldn’t want you to hurt your neck or catch a cold.”

You hold out for the blanket and pillow for him to take but he only shakes his head. His usual smile across his face, though it was less pleasant now with the bags under his eyes.

“Thank you (y/n)! But, please, there’s no need. I need to get back to wor…….”

The smile across his face disappears and his head droops down. He seems to practically, almost, pass out right then and there but he thankfully catches himself. Trying to somehow play it off, he leans an arm against the desk.

“To work! Yes work! I'm a very busy man after all.” Shalnark laughs off. Giving you a wink, he turns his attention back to screen in front of him.

Biting your lip you don’t know what to do. You definitely don’t believe he’s ok yet you also can’t force him to sleep. You two are strangers after al—

“Oh!” You let out in surprise and shock.

With a quick reflex you lung forward and catch Shalnark before his head hits the desk. Thank goodness you were still standing there, that could have really hurt. You lean him back but Shalnark stops you as he grabs on one your arm that was holding onto his shoulder and a little across the front of his chest. With tired eyes he shoots you an apologetic look.

“Sorry I didn’t know what came over me at that moment.” He apologizes; squeezing your arm.

You bit your lip again for the third time tonight. He needs sleep. He can’t continue going on like this, he could actually get hurt or even sick. Ever so lightly you push him to lean back into his chair. He goes to rebut you but you lean down to his face, making him go quiet.

“I’m sorry Mr Shalnark but I think you should go to bed.”

“But—“

Playfully you hold a finger up to his nose and boop it.

“No buts Mister. It’s time for bed.”

It was unprofessional and even childish of you to boop a grown man’s nose and tell him it’s time for bed. But you could easily see he was obviously trying to fight back and hooping his nose seemed to stun him.

While he was still stunned, you reclined the big office chair and put the blanket and pillow on him. It wasn’t as comfy as a bed but anything is better than sleeping hunched over a desk at this point.

As you finally get him to settle in his eyes begin to droop, yet he seems to continue to try and fight against it. Reaching a hand out you rub and groom Shalnark’s hair. He looks up at you as you shoot him a small smile.

“You need to go to bed, Shalnark. It’s okay to take a rest sometimes you know.”

His eyes go wide for a second and he opens his mouth wide like a fish.

“It’s you…it’s actually you. I can’t… the troupe is relying on me… I need to stay awake to figure out the location… the boss is relying on… me…” Shalnark mumbles out. His voice getting quieter and quieter.

And with that Shalnark was out cold.

Well at least you figured out that he does know you from somewhere. You wonder where. Also, the boss huh? He had to do something for him?

You looked over to the computer screen and notes in front of you. No wonder he was stressed out. You would be too if your boss and all of your workplace was relying on you to figure this out.

You could…you could always help him. You check the clock behind you. It was around 2am. Even if you took a nap now it wouldn’t be for much time and you did want to quit after tonight.

Making a decision you pull a chair over and look around you. The coast was clear as no one seemed to be watching. Stretching your fingers you put them to the keyboard and activate your aura.

You didn’t use Nen often but you were a talent transmitter. Through vigorous training you had managed to turn your Nen into data and electric signals. It was useless in battle for all you could do at most was glitch your body but, then again, you were never much of a fighter either.

Glitching and hacking through vast codes on the computer you finally make it onto the secret government site of the Fushi Empire. That was a piece of cake for you. You could probably even sneak in an episode of Bokemon after all this was done before you had to leave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean you quit?!?”

Sighing you leaning against the counter. Tapping your fingers against the surface. “Like I said before I quit. It’s just not the right job for me.”

“You can’t! I won’t allow you, you un—“

Done with your manager's bullshit you hang up the phone and take a sip from your coffee. After a couple of more sips you were able to finish the cup. Walking around the desk you toss the cup into the trash.

Taking one last look at the place around you, you grab your bag. You would like to say you will miss the place but… you definitely won’t. This place could burn in hell for all you cared.

Wrapping your jacket tighter you step out of the building and into the cold. Wow you didn’t even realize it was still snowing from last night. It was actually nice to see snow in the city for the first time.

Your phone suddenly dings, a text from your landlord?. Oh! Someone had finally accepted your roommate's application for your flat. That’s awesome. Biting your lip, you just type back ‘yes’.

You technically should’ve looked into the document she sent along with the text which was about the roommate. But you just really need someone to split the rent with you so you honestly didn’t care who it was at this point.

“(Y/n)!”

Jumping, startled and surprised, you turn around fast at the call but are suddenly knocked over and in a snowbank. Now wide awake, you moan in discomfort as Wetness seeps into your jacket from the snow and you begin to wiggle at the coldness at your skin.

“W-What the hell?! Get off of me!” You yell out, startled and still unsure who is above you. Was this some creepy stalker? You hoped not. Wiggling more faster now, you try to get out of the snow.

You stop dead in your tracks as you hear a groan above you. Finally able to see the person, you realize it was no other than Shalnark above you. His mouth slightly open and a dark expression on his face.

What had you— oh god. You blush a crimson red. Could this get anymore embarrassing? You hadn’t realized that while you were trying to get away you hadn’t also, unintentionally, rubbed against his crotch.

Apologizing profusely, you somehow now get up and hold out a shaky hand to help him up as well. Shalnark smiled at you. Though it wasn’t like his usual smile it had an unnerving tint to it now that sent a shiver up your spine.

Startled and uneasy you decide to look away at something else. Wow did the wall get a new crack in it? Oh man that sure is interesting. Did Mrs Glain change out the lilacs again? That was nice of her—

“(Y/n)?”

You grow stiff at Shal’s voice and hesitantly meet his gaze. It still made you uneasy. Everything was the same about him yet you can’t help but feel on edge and slightly violated in his presence now. You just couldn’t figure out why.

“Y-yes?”

“I just wanna say thanks for the information you got me! Boss will sure be happy. Hmmmm….I’m not sure how you got these, you must be a really skilled hacker.”

He expressively gestures to the papers in his bag that you printed and wrote on.

“Oh yeah umm no problem.” You nonchalantly answer. Trying to ignore his hacker comment.

“I’m just wondering... how did you get into those websites (y/n)? It sure was hard for me.”

Shalnark asks and secretly shuffles a little closer to you, still an unchanging smile on his face. He was weirdly sneaky about it. Now this was just starting to get creepy. Then you suddenly realize something, did he not realize?

“A-ah I just had to find out the right codes and inputs and stuff you know?”

You start to shuffle back. You didn’t mind being asked questions or someone moving closer. It’s just… you just realized... Blushing you start to move a little faster away.

“Ah-h I really have to get home you-u know? Work just finished and stuff and I have to get rested up for my next shift. You—you know being a good employee and stuff. I’ll see you again sometimes.” Stuttering and tripping over your words you finally walk away from Shalnark. You were just glad you were out of that mess. That was so embarrassing and creepy.

Sighing, you grab your phone from your pocket and turn it on. You scroll through your apps for a little before stopping and selecting “Bokemon Go”. You needed to see if the new bokemon “Baporine” was in the area after all.

“Oh you like Bokemon Go as well. I didn’t take you as such a nerd (y/n)~”

Startled, you let out a ‘eep’ and crane your neck to see that Shalnark was literally right behind you. He literally got as close as he could without touching. It also didn’t help that he still had…

Face red again at the thought you fast walk to the bus stop. Though that didn’t work for Shalnark was on your tail the whole time, constantly asking questions.

“I was just joking (y/n)! I love that game as well.”

“Oh have you caught the new Baporine?”

“Wait, do you also know Nen? I think I see aura around you~.”

“Hahah you totally do. What category are you?”

“Do you—“

Reaching the bus you had finally had enough of his antics. Pulling him down by his collar, you glare at him.

“Why are you following me?” You whispered yelled at him. He looks confused for a second before letting out a teasing smile.

“So we are whispering now? Is this a sec—“ You cut him off.

“Answer my question.”

He opens his mouth to do so but before he can, the thing you couldn’t look at or say is, is finally said out loud. And by a young child at that.

“Mommy. Why wrong with that man’s pants? Why is there a bump in the front—“

The mother doesn’t make it better, of course, and lets out a screech in shock. Quickly shielding the child’s eyes and pulling the child away. Leaving you two alone at the bus stop.

Your face beet red and frozen in embarrassment you look at Shalnark’s face.. He looks down at his *ahem* problem and looks back at you. And he, I shit you not, looks you dead in the eye and says.

“Ah so that’s what’s wrong?” He says. Kind of amazed, yet kind of shrugging it off.

“WHAT THE HELL?!? HOW DID YOU NOT REALIZE IT BEFORE” You screech out. Totally losing your cool.

He pouts at your freak out.

“I just didn’t realize it.”

Rubbing your temples you take a deep breath and look at the most likely mid-twenties man in the eyes.

“How do you not realize you are walking around with a full on erection??”

“Well It just doesn’t usually happens. I usually don’t get excited by a girl easily. Though I do usually like to toy with the smart ones,” He suddenly looks down at your chest. His face blushing a little and a small smile spreading across his face. “It also doesn’t help that you have the perfect pair of—“

You clamp your hand over his mouth before he can finish that sentence. You didn’t want to know what he was thinking. You were honestly tired. Working two back to back shifts wasn’t easy.

“Shalnark. Please just… just go home.” You say exhausted and defeated.

You drop your hand from his mouth and he only looks at you confused.

“Hmm? But I am?”

“Hah?!?” Now angry you grab the man by his shirt. You might actually fulfill your life long dream of strangling a man today, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!?”

Shalnark smiles; an unsettling one at that and grabs his phone from his pocket. As you look at the red phone your stomach drops to the ground. Oh. That number and conversation means. Oh god.

Shalnark giggles and leans over to your ear. His warm breath against the shell causes a shiver up your spine. Taking a gulp and you hear him whisper two dreaded words.

“Hello roomie~”

You should’ve checked the document.

Bonus:

(On the bus)

“Hey (y/n)~ now that we are roommates you wouldn’t mind if we fuc—“

“Shal. Just take a cold shower”

“Huh?!? You're so mean (y/n)! You’re nothing like the girl that took care of me last night. Oh~ Mr Shalnark~ your so handsome Mr—”

“F***king hypocrite”

“Why did you hit me?! That hurt!”

#hxh #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #hxh scenarios #scenarios #shalnark #shalnark x reader

257 notes · View notes

theculturedmarxist · 4 years ago

Link

The Fight for $15 movement started in 2012, when hundreds of fast-food employees went on strike in New York City for higher wages and a union. Since then, the movement has brought the concept of a $15 minimum wage firmly into the mainstream and won (eventual) hikes to $15 per hour—less than a true living wage in most places, yet double the federal minimum wage of $7.25—in cities, counties, blue states, and red states alike.

But fast-food workers all over the country are still working under dire circumstances, with the COVID-19 pandemic surfacing long-festering problems about wages and safety. And so the workers are still rising up. Today, McDonald’s workers in 15 cities across the country are striking. The actions are timed to the company’s annual shareholder meeting on Thursday and come hot off the heels of McDonald’s attempting to fix a “labor shortage” by offering workers at company-owned stores an entry-level wage of between $11 and $17 over the next several months.

Precious Cole is one of those striking workers. Cole has been working in fast-food joints since she was 15 years old; she’s now 34. During the pandemic, she has worked at three different restaurants in Durham, North Carolina: Freddy’s Frozen Custard and Steakburgers, Wendy’s, and since last month, a McDonald’s franchise, after she got recruited out of the Wendy’s drive-thru window.

McDonald’s announced they’re raising the average pay in their corporate-owned stores to $15 by 2024, but that’s only 5% of US locations. Workers are striking May 19 because we know that @McDonalds can and should pay $15 to every worker NOW!https://t.co/MpOFIRso97 #FightFor15 pic.twitter.com/igIjZCK2w7

Cole has been involved in various labor actions at her workplaces over the course of the pandemic, mostly over safety protocols, and on Wednesday she’s going back out on strike for a $15 minimum wage and a union. Cole talked to Discourse Blog earlier this week about the strike, her experience working through the pandemic, what she believes are the real reason behind the labor shortage.

This conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

Discourse Blog: How long have you been working at McDonald’s?

Precious Cole: Honestly, only a month. I got recruited out of the Wendy’s drive-thru to work at McDonald’s.

Discourse Blog: How long have you been working at fast food restaurants including Wendy’s and McDonald’s?

Precious Cole: Since I was 15 years old. My first job was Burger King…I just turned 34 at the beginning of this month.

Discourse Blog: There’s a lot of talk about a labor shortage right now, and McDonald’s put out that statement saying they were going to raise their minimum wage to $11 per hour. Is your store having trouble finding people?

Precious Cole: From my experience, yes. Since I’ve been working, I’ve literally been working 12-hour shifts, because people don’t want to come to work and we don’t have enough people. We even did a hiring event last Thursday, I believe.

I just believe it’s these companies not paying enough, paying poverty wages, and people are just sick and tired of getting paid so little. Especially with the cost of living going up, with this coronavirus that’s going on, people lost their jobs. And it’s crazy that they lost these jobs and they don’t want to even try to get another job because these companies don’t care about their workers.

Discourse Blog: What’s your experience been like at work with health and safety? Have your workplaces been following regulations and everything?

Precious Cole: I had two jobs at once at one point. And one job followed regulations, the other job was very iffy on their regulations. And that led to a movement and us making sure that everybody in that company is safe now.

The [iffy] company was Freddy’s. One of our coworkers went to the hospital because she couldn’t taste her food…she came back to work the next day. And the day after, we got a call saying her hospital record came back and she has coronavirus, and you have to either take a two-week quarantine or go get the swab stuck up your nose. [Cole and her coworkers went on strike in September and then again in October; after the second, the owners of the Freddy’s franchise agreed to pay for COVID-19 testing as well as 10 days of paid sick leave for employees who test positive.)

Discourse Blog: What has dealing with customers been like during the pandemic?

Precious Cole: So in my experience, it has been a lot harder. Like I said, I’ve been in fast food half my life, so I’ve seen and dealt with everything imaginable. But now, you know, they just seem so angry. You get one or two that say, “Thank you for being here, for helping us out, for working during COVID.” But then you have the other customers where—it’s store policy that you have to wear a mask. “Well, it’s my right not to wear a mask.” And I’m like, “I can’t serve you.” They get ignorant and rude and throw stuff on us.

It’s a whole lot worse now, because I believe people are angered. Half of these people don’t have jobs, or they do have jobs that are paying them little to nothing. People try to feed their families and have gas in their cars, they’re trying to make it to work. There are some people like me who haven’t even gotten stimulus money yet, still waiting on the government.

Discourse Blog: Oh, wow.

Precious Cole: I’m literally living paycheck to paycheck until the government decides, “Hey, let’s give Precious her money that she’s owed and deserves.” I just think they’re angry.

Discourse Blog: Are there any examples that stick out to you from the past year?

Precious Cole: When I was a manager at Wendy’s, I was doing my manager things, making sure my coworkers were OK. No offense, but I care more about my employees than I do the customers. Without the employees, there are no customers, there’s no store. So I have to keep my coworkers safe.

So one day, I come around the corner and I hear one of my coworkers arguing with the customer and I see a large drink in his hand, and I got the intuition. I said, “Oh God,” because it wasn’t the first time anything’s ever been thrown on me. And as I’m walking up to try to defuse the situation, a whole large cup of lemonade comes through the window. They hit my coworker square in the face, broke her glasses. And in the after-effect of somebody chucking something, it hit three of us. We were dressed, from head to toe, in sticky lemonade. And we still had to work the rest of the night because it was no going home.

Everybody’s going through something. You don’t know what these people are going through and I understand that, but it’s like, you don’t have to throw stuff on us. People belittle us because we work in fast food, but it’s like, OK, you’re here. So if we weren’t here, you wouldn’t be here.

Discourse Blog: How many hours a week do you have to work to be able to pay your bills?

Precious Cole: I would have to say probably a little bit more than 40, maybe between 40 and 50. To pay rent, I have a car note, I’ve got to eat…I live with my elderly mother and that is a big concern for me. She’s vaccinated but about two weeks ago, she was in the hospital. And not trying to think morbidly, but my mom wants me to be OK when she’s gone, and as of right now I wouldn’t be OK. I wouldn’t be able to pay the rent, and the car note, and feed myself, and other necessities like gas in the car.

Discourse Blog: So how did you get involved in the Fight for $15 in the first place?

Precious Cole: The Freddy’s thing. One of my coworkers started talking about this movement she was in and I got interested, and then the coronavirus thing happened [at Freddy’s] and I shoved in full force.

Discourse Blog: What are you hoping to get out of the strike on Wednesday?

Precious Cole: Just that they finally listen to their workers. Not even just McDonald’s, workers all over the world, that we stand in solidarity with each other. We try to get this $15 minimum, and we know $15 is not a lot but I always say that it’s a start. Not the end, but it’s a start.

I just want to see people staying together and McDonald’s listening to their workers and not their shareholders. Something I always say is that I want to see the shareholders walk a day in our life. Pay them what they pay us and see if they can survive.

Discourse Blog: Have you seen more enthusiasm for this strike than other efforts?

Precious Cole: I honestly don’t know because the strike hasn’t happened yet. But I feel like for me, it’s gonna hold a lot of weight because I’m an actual McDonald’s worker. Before, I stood in solidarity with everybody, but now that I’m an actual McDonald’s fast food worker I can speak to some of the things that are going on. One of our Fight for $15 people told me he only makes $8 an hour and my whole mouth dropped. I was making $8 an hour at 18, 19 years old, but nowadays that’s a drop in the bucket.

Discourse Blog: Because of the pandemic and everything you told me, have you and your coworkers talked about eventually forming a union and what that might eventually look like?

Precious Cole: I started at Wendy’s trying to organize people because of what we’ve gone through over there. I tried to get them involved in Fight for 15, so some of them are still involved.

I know they have a lot to say because they say it to me when we’re at work. So I’m just like, hey, like, I have an outlet for you to express all of this stuff…I get that the majority of them are scared to lose their job and I’m trying to tell them, you’re not gonna lose a job because you’re protected; you have the right to organize. And then I’m also trying to tell them that if we form a union, you’ll definitely be protected.

#fight for 15 #minimum wage #strike action #mcdonalds strike #mcdonalds #discourse #labor #organized labor

5 notes · View notes

emachinescat · 4 years ago

Text

By Night My Mind

A Tales of Arcadia: Wizards Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 19 - sleep deprivation

Summary: Sequel to “Dying Is Easy.” In the aftermath of the final battle against the Arcane Order, Douxie is plagued by guilt and nightmares about his part in Merlin’s death, and decides that he’s better off staying awake, which his battered and weary body does not take well. Written for Febuwhump on Tumblr. Day 19: sleep deprivation

Characters: Douxie, Archie, Jim, Claire

Words: 4,719

TW: None

Notes: Sequel to “Dying Is Easy, Living (Without You) Is Harder,” and set in the same universe as “That I Could Fear a Door” and “Lest Back that Awful Door Should Spring.” In this version of events, Douxie doesn’t have to leave with Nari, and is trying to adjust back to life in Arcadia after the events of “Dying Is Easy.”

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

- From “Sonnet 27” by William Shakespeare

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,

The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;

But then begins a journey in my head

To work my mind, when body’s work’s expired…

Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,

For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.

The night after his battle with the Arcane Order, Douxie slept more soundly than he could ever remember. His near-death experience had left him with a litany of aches, pains, cuts, bruises, a couple of fractured ribs and a lot of unanswered questions - it should have been impossible for him to survive a fall from that height; every bone in his body should have been broken, and no one knew how he was still alive - but still he slept, his final meeting with Merlin and the restored Morgana fresh on his mind and a soothing balm through the night.

The trouble came the day after, when he nodded off while curled up on his couch with The Sword in the Stone distracting him from some unpleasant thoughts and a nagging guilt that had begun to crop up, slowly but steadily, over the course of his day. No one knew that the hokey, mostly plotless Disney movie was his favorite, and he preferred to keep it that way. It had always amused him, Merlin as a bit of a crackpot and Arthur a poor young boy running around after a magical master who only halfway knew what he was doing at any given time - it reminded him of himself, and of home.

But he was exhausted from the muscle relaxer he’d been prescribed when Jim and Claire had practically kidnapped him and forced him to let Jim’s mom, a doctor, examine him, and he fell asleep right when Mad Madam Mim issued her challenge to Merlin and for a few wonderful moments, there was nothing, and he could rest.

He woke with a yell only minutes later (Merlin was now turning into a germ to outwit the atrocious purple dragon), fighting desperately against the effects of the muscle relaxers that were already trying to pull him under again. He couldn’t even remember what it was that woke him, what he’d seen in his dreams, but it didn’t matter. Whatever it was - and he had a good idea - it left him trembling, short of breath, on the verge of tears.

“Douxie?”

Archie padded into the room and hopped up on the couch beside his friend, eyes full of concern behind his glasses.

“I’m fine, Archie. Just a nightmare.”

“I miss him, too,” the cat said solemnly, reflective gaze compassionate and sad as he observed his human friend. “Perhaps we should talk--”

“Talking won’t bring him back,” Douxie snapped, and Archie flinched back the tiniest amount and fell silent, looking more like a chastised pet than Douxie had ever seen him. The wizard sighed. “I’m sorry, Archie. I just don’t want to talk, that's all.” He rubbed the furry head with distracted affection, then moved from the couch and pulled up a hard-backed kitchen chair, and sat in that.

He didn’t feel like sleeping so much anymore, even if the burning of his eyes told him otherwise. He turned off the movie - it suddenly held no appeal. The Disney+ main screen took its place, and he clicked on something at random. He was so caught up in his bleak mood and dark thoughts that he didn’t even realize for a solid ten minutes that he was watching Hannah Montana.

***

Dr. Lake called him at five and asked how the muscle relaxers were treating him - “Are they keeping the pain and back spasms at bay? Are you taking them with food? Have you been able to rest?” Douxie placated her with lies on all accounts, but the truth was that he was sore even with the medicine, he hadn't taken it with food because he couldn't bring himself to eat, and every time he closed his eyes he felt the unfathomable pain of being run through all over again, or, worse, he saw Merlin kneeling over him, sacrificing his life for Douxie’s stupid mistake, and that wasn’t worth any benefits rest gave him.

***

He did finally fall asleep that night around eleven, not by choice - he’d been forced to take another muscle relaxer when the pain in his ribs and back crescendoed to nearly unbearable levels, and the drug worked quickly despite his best efforts to stay awake.

The dream was, at the beginning, not good, but not nightmare material, either. He found he was reliving his final conversation with Merlin, in that Nowhere between life and death where his mentor had waited patiently for him to arrive before moving on at last, after 900 long years.

At first the conversation was much the same as it had been, and Douxie found a thread of comfort in Merlin’s reassurances - I told you, my boy, I chose to die for you. I want no part of a world without you in it. And I am happy, reunited with my dear friend and first apprentice, ready to step into the next chapter.

But this time, right before Merlin stepped through the door into the light, he turned and contemplated his grieving apprentice with a cold look. “Although,” he said, accusation seeping from every word, “it is true that I wouldn’t have had to give my life for you if you hadn’t bungled things up so much in the first place.”

Douxie felt his heart stutter to a stop and he stammered, “W-what?”

“Couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” Merlin hissed, his eyes flashing dangerously. “It was my fight. And if you were going to interfere, why not cast some other spell that kept us both out of harm’s way?”

Floundering for any purchase on solid ground, Douxie finally managed, “I didn’t know how - the magic, it just responded -”

“You were always good at making excuses, Hisirdoux,” the wizard snarled. “The faith I thought I had in your abilities was obviously misplaced.” A terrible, eternal beat of silence. Then - “Perhaps I should have let you die after all. It’s no more than you deserve.”

“But Master -”

“I’m done with you.” With a dismissive wave of his arm, Merlin stomped into the waiting light of the unknown, muttering, “Might as well enjoy your life since you ended mine to save it.”

And Douxie was left alone in the between-space, and the tower crumbled around him in time with his soul, and he let it bury him, book after book crashing on his head, and he hoped that this time, he wouldn’t wake up at all….

It’s all my fault.

He woke up crying, not screaming, and shortly after he flushed the muscle relaxers while Archie wasn’t looking (the wise familiar would most certainly have not approved), splashed his face with icy water, and grabbed his well-read copy of The Catcher in the Rye and forced his eyes across the familiar words in a vain attempt to distract him from the loathing and pain and guilt that screamed through his aching head and pounded out a tattoo of shame that persisted through the lonely, sleepless night.

***

Two days later, he returned to work, and his manager stared openly at his disheveled appearance. Douxie had slept a grand total of four hours since he’d tossed the pills, and those had been intermittent catnaps that his body had forced him to take. Eventually, though the thought of using his magic made his skin crawl now after what it had done to Merlin, he conjured a simple alarm clock that sensed when he fell asleep and screeched metal core at him every time it happened.

He knew he looked bad - he’d seen a glimpse of himself in the mirror before he left. His face was thinner than usual, pinched in pain that tylenol just wasn’t cutting through - but anything else would make him fall asleep. Although all of the bruising was centralized around his back and chest and invisible beneath his rumpled t-shirt, it looked like he’d been punched in both eyes, with the dark, puffy circles accenting each one. He’d been too out of it to properly bother with styling his hair, or brushing it, if he were honest, and he was pretty sure he was wearing two different combat boots. They were both black, though, so maybe no one would notice. He didn’t have the energy to care if they did.

“Damn,” said his manager, Jeff. “I think you came back from sick leave a little too soon, man. You look awful.”

Douxie shrugged, not trusting himself to speak. He’d been screaming from one emotion to the next with no warning ever since he woke up, and even though he felt rather empty at the moment, he knew it was distinctly possible that if he opened his mouth he might start crying against his will.

“I think you should go back home. Have you seen a doctor?”

Douxie grunted in affirmation.

“Go home until you’re feeling better, Douxie. Seriously, man, you have to take care of yourself.”

The hollowness inside of him filled with irritation at the dismissal. “I’m fine,” he growled sullenly.

His manager blinked, surprised at the tone. Douxie had always been a model employee, respectful and fun to be around.

“You’re going to scare customers away,” Jeff insisted. “You can’t wait tables like this - people will be afraid you’ll give them whatever plague you’ve come down with.”

With a snarl, Douxie spat, “Why can’t things just go back to normal?” He stormed out before his bewildered manager could answer.

***

The next afternoon, someone knocked at his door. He cast a suspicious side-eye at Archie, who sat innocently on the table, tail tucked contritely around his carefully arranged paws as he studied Merlin’s magic book, the one Douxie had refused to touch since returning home. Archie had disappeared for a short time earlier, flapping out of the window in dragon form and saying that he was just going for a short flight to clear his head. Now Douxie wondered if the dragon had actually gone out and told someone of his worries about his wizard familiar. After all, Archie had been on his case constantly over the past few days, practically begging his friend to sleep, to eat, to talk, and Douxie always ignored him and had even yelled at him on a couple of occasions.

Douxie was picking at a bowl of dragon-popped popcorn listlessly, the small desire for food that he’d felt earlier having been immediately usurped by a fresh waves of undulating guilt and devastating emptiness. A smattering of empty cans - soda and energy drinks - lay crumpled on the coffee table around Archie, and the dregs of his latest cup of coffee were still warm. He seriously considered just ignoring the knocking until whoever it was went away - they’d promised to give him some time to recover, after all - but then they started ringing the doorbell and his head already hurt so badly it made his stomach curdle, so he made the tremendous journey to his feet. He swayed, his limbs like pool noodles, head swimming with dizziness at the effort to stay upright.

Each step toward the door - that incessant, too-loud doorbell was going to drive him mad! - was a hard-fought battle, and by the time his hand reached for the doorknob, he felt like he was going to be sick, and his vision was blurred, and he was having trouble remembering why he had gotten up in the first place.

Then the doorbell rang again, and a muffled voice called his name from the other side of the door, and he remembered.

It was Claire and Jim. The moment they laid eyes on him, their expressions went from concerned to relieved to something Douxie couldn’t quite identify but that might have been a kind of shock, or even horror.

“Douxie!” Claire half-shouted, and Douxie fought the urge to cover his ears as her voice, normally pleasant and soothing, tried its hardest to split his head in two. “What happened?”

Douxie squinted at her in confusion. Shouldn’t she know what happened? She had been there, for parts of it, at least. She’d heard about the rest. He could barely stand up straight anymore, and his eyes started closing of their own accord. This had happened so many times before, but as soon as sleep started to stake its claim, the memories and nightmares and things that might have been memories followed, mixing up into a blur that he couldn’t navigate, and then his magic alarm clock would blare, and he would wake up, and drink another Mountain Dew or Monster or cup of coffee, and try to do something to take his mind off of sleep and pain and Merlin. Then the whole process would start over again.

This time, it didn’t look like he would make it back to the couch before he passed out - the arduous trek to the front door had drained him, made him breathless and dizzy - and he was toppling forward, trying to force himself to wake up, battling sleep and the panic of sleep, or worse, hitting his head and being knocked out and forced to sleep.

“Whoa!” He startled awake to a hazy reality as Jim caught his stumbling form and propped him up the best that he could given how much taller Douxie was than him. Distantly, Douxie heard, “Claire, help me get him inside.”

And then Claire slung his other arm over her shoulder and they half-supported, half-dragged him back into his house, and though his eyes were on his couch, he realized that they were taking him past it, further into the house, in the direction of his bedroom, and he began to struggle against them.

“No, not there,” he gasped, knowing that if he had a mattress under his body and a soft pillow under his bed, there would be no way he could resist the siren call of sleep. He’d been avoiding his bed for days now.

But they didn’t listen, and soon they helped ease him onto his bed, perpetually unmade, and he scrambled up clumsily into a facsimile of a sitting position and shook his head to clear it of the gummy cobwebs that infested it. Archie, having followed the trio closely, literally hovering right over their shoulders, perched on Douxie’s desk and kept his lamp-lit eyes on his human, watchful and protective.

As soon as their charge was no longer in any immediate danger of hurting himself, Jim pulled out his cell phone. “I’m calling my mom.”

“No, no,” Douxie said, forcing his burning eyes open as far as he could and making a feeble swipe at the phone in his friend’s hand. Jim hesitated, his thumb hovering over the send button.

“You are obviously not feeling well,” he said. “And you look sick. You need to see a doctor before --”

“I’m not sick,” Douxie explained, trying to project an air of wellness that he couldn’t even muster within himself. At their doubtful looks, he clarified, “Just a little tired.”

“You don’t look like you’ve slept in a month!” Claire exclaimed worriedly. “We promised to give you a few days to yourself to heal and rest, not turn into one of the living dead!”

“It’s only been a few days,” Douxie assured her. “I just need to sort some things out in my head, that’s all. Then I’ll sleep.” It was a lie, but he needed them to believe it, needed them to go home and go on with their lives and not sit here worrying about him - or worse, try to make him sleep. He appreciated their concern, and was touched that he had friends who cared so much about his well-being, but they had more important things to deal with - Jim’s transition from being half-troll to enslaved hulk troll to fully human and the loss of his amulet, for starters. And he had made this mess on his own, this was his fault, so if his punishment was to never sleep again, it should be his to bear alone. He didn’t deserve to be worried about, he suddenly realized - that was the crux of why he wanted to be left alone so badly.

“A few days without sleep will wreck you, man,” Jim said seriously, his blue eyes offering nothing but concern. He did pocket his phone again, though, for which Douxie heaved a sigh of relief. “Trust me, I know.”

Douxie didn’t know the details, but he had heard stories from Claire and Toby about how Jim had, over a year ago, willingly gone into the Darklands, a hellish nightmare-scape beneath the skin of this world, and Claire had told, her own eyes haunted, of how he had come back not himself, traumatized, and how he’d barely slept nor ate and had become a shell of his former self.

So he asked, voice far more unsure than he felt comfortable with, “How did you move on? How did you get back to normal?”

He hated himself for sounding so weak. He’d lived 701 years. He’d lost people he cared about so regularly that he’d eventually tried to avoid personal connections. Such was the curse of being a wizard, and being functionally immortal. The world around him would turn, but he would not age - or rather, he would age slowly, at the pace of his own choosing - and people would die, wars would rise up and die down, and still he would live, watching it all, alone. That wasn’t true. Even if Merlin had been entombed for much of that time, he hadn’t been dead, not really. The knowledge that he would see his mentor again had kept Douxie going during the loneliest of times, during the most devastating losses.

And, of course, he’d had Archie, a constant companion who even now had done everything he could to help his friend, and when that hadn’t worked, when Douxie had been too stubborn to listen, he’d taken it upon himself to gather more of Douxie’s friends and staged an intervention. If Douxie hadn’t been so exhausted and his mind hadn’t been so muddy, he might have been grateful or touched by the gesture and loyalty, but right now, he just felt irritated, like his privacy had been infringed upon.

Jim blinked. “Well, uh,” he stammered, glancing at Claire before continuing, “it took time, first of all. But, honestly, it was my friends. But it took talking to someone who had gone through the same thing as me, who understood what I was going through, to first start the healing.”

Douxie shook his head. “Everybody loses people,” he said slowly. “But this feels different.”

“Just because everyone deals with loss doesn’t make your experiences any less important, Douxie,” Archie said sagely. He was the only one in the room who had a true scope of all the heartbreaks Douxie had accumulated over his centuries of life in a world of short-lived mortals.

“It’s not that.” Douxie was desperate now for them to understand the truth. Then maybe they would stop being so kind to him. Dream-Merlin had been right. He didn’t deserve it. “Don’t you see? It’s my fault Merlin’s dead. I killed him.”

Jim froze at his words, looking like he’d just been struck across the face. For a moment, Douxie wondered why he reacted the way he did, but then remembered that Jim had been the one to hold Douxie down when Morgana was going to kill him. He hadn’t been in his right mind, had been enslaved by the Arcane Order, but still, he had, in a small way, been the reason that Douxie had been forced into doing the switching magic that he had. Still, Douxie could find no ill will in him against the Trollhunter. He’d not been in control of his own mind. Douxie had.

“I am so sorry,” Jim started, but Douxie immediately cut him off.

“It’s not your fault. You weren’t you. But me…”

“You have to see the truth,” Jim insisted urgently, now moving to take a seat on the bed next to his older friend. Sure, they hadn’t known each other all that long, but going through the things they had and saving the world together tended to bring people closer together rather more quickly than usual, in his experience. “It wasn’t your fault. You did everything you could to save Merlin. You took a sword in the gut for him.” Douxie flinched internally at the reminder of the agony, the feeling of dying, the cold and the dark.

“Yeah, Douxie,” Claire chimed in. “You’re a hero. You saved him.”

“If I’d had more control over that magic, if I’d channeled it a different way or done a different spell, then we might both be alive.” He was so tired, but the conversation held him in its grip, and he couldn’t sleep anyway, he’d go back to the sword and Merlin’s death and the wizard’s tower where Merlin would tell him again that he’d failed.

“Douxie, you’re the one who’s been teaching me more magic!” Claire reminded him. “One of the things I learned from my Shadow Staff - and that you’ve continued to show me - is that magic is emotion. You can’t always control what magic is going to do when you are in a moment of fear or anger or desperation. Magic reacts to your emotions. And Jim’s right. What you did was very brave and selfless.”

“That’s why Merlin gave his life to save you in return,” Archie added. “That, and because he loved you, very much.”

Douxie felt the sting of hot tears carving pathways down his face and didn’t bother to wipe them off. He felt like having a full-on temper tantrum, flopping onto his stomach and screaming and sobbing and slamming his fists into the ground and letting his magic explode out of him with all the force of the emotions and exhaustion that had built up inside. He knew if he did that, though, he would just end up hurting someone else.

So he asked a question he was ashamed to ask, because it made it sound like he blamed Merlin instead of himself, “If he loved me, why did he leave? Why didn’t he let me make my sacrifice? It was like what I did didn’t matter. I saved him because I don’t want to live without him, but that’s just what he forced me to do.”

Archie flapped off the desk and landed on the bed on the other side of his friend. Placing a paw on Douxie’s leg, he spoke gently, as if to a lost child, “Merlin was a great wizard” -- Douxie sobbed -- “but he was also very selfish sometimes. That comes with great power and an ego left unchecked paired with a very long life. Merlin saved you because he couldn’t bear to think of a world without you in it. Nor,” said the dragon, nuzzling Douxie’s elbow affectionately, “can I, for that matter.”

“But if I --”

“No buts,” said Archie. “This was not your fault. And I know Merlin told you the same.”

“He did,” Douxie admitted. “But then he didn’t. Every time I sleep, I see him, and he tells me… he tells me that I f-failed, that he’s d-dead because of me, and that I don’t deserve to live.”

“Oh, Douxie,” Claire breathed softly, sinking down into his desk chair.

“That’s not Merlin telling you that,” Jim spoke up. Something raw lingered in his eyes. “It’s the lies you are telling yourself. I know because for weeks after the Darklands, I…” He cast his gaze briefly at Claire, and even in his semi-conscious state, Douxie got the feeling that he hadn’t even told his girlfriend this before. “I had dreams every night of Claire, Toby, Blinky, Aaarrrgghh, everyone telling me I should have stayed in the Darklands. Should have died there, because I wasn’t strong or brave enough, and I went in alone and betrayed them, and that they were better off and happier without me. For a while, I believed them.”

Claire was crying quietly now, her hands pressed against her lips.

“But then,” Jim continued, “the more time I spent with my friends, and talked to them, I began to be able to separate their truth from my own lies. Like I said earlier, you really need to talk to someone who gets it, you know. And even though we’ve experienced a lot of the same things, it’s not me.” He looked pointedly at the small black dragon who was currently in the same place he’d always been - at Douxie’s side.

“I miss him too.” Archie repeated his words from a few days ago. “And I am here for you, Douxie.” He must have seen the doubt festering in Douxie’s eyes and he reassured, “I do not blame you for what happened. No one does. The Merlin in your dreams is not real. He is spitting your own self-doubts and guilt right back into your face, but deep down, you know the truth. The real Merlin told you. Jim and Claire told you. And I am promising you - Merlin died because he chose to in order to save you because after all he had seen and done and all the years he’d lived, the one thing he was terrified of was having to light your funeral pyre. And Merlin never did anything he didn’t want to do. No one could have stopped him from making that choice.”

The words struck something deep inside of Douxie, and he felt the tiniest fraction of weight shift in his chest. “M’be,” he slurred, so tired that his friends were all now blobs of blue, black, and purple. A giant bruise. He chuckled, a bit madly.

“Okay, Douxie,” came Claire’s voice, distant and very close at the same time. “I think you really need to lie down now. You’ve been awake for too long.”

She and Jim helped him lie down. Weakly, he protested, “I cn’t sleep.”

“You can,” said Jim. “Take Archie’s words with you if you end up facing that dream-Merlin again. Remember that we’re here for you. None of us will leave you while you sleep, okay?”

“Yeah, we’ll be right here when you wake up, and if you have nightmares, we’ll remind you of the truth,” Claire promised.

“And I will guard you,” Archie vowed, retaking his cat form and curling up protectively over his closest friend’s heart. “You are safe here.”

Douxie could resist the call of sleep no longer. He closed his eyes and let it take him, and he felt the warm weight of Archie on his chest and the presence of his friends around him and the slightest of smiles curved his lips as he drifted off.

***

Thirty seconds after Douxie grew still upon the bed, his three friends let out a collective sigh of relief.

Thirty seconds after that, Jim and Claire let out a collective yell of shock and Archie leapt to his paws, hissing and arching his back, as a giant, misty alarm clock appeared out of thin air and started screeching a terrible cacophony of wailing guitars and screaming vocals at top volume.

“What the--?” Claire shouted over the racket, slamming her hands over her ears.

“I forgot,” Archie called back, “he cast this spell to wake him up when he fell asleep.”

And yet, this time, Douxie still slept.

“Can you turn it off?” Jim yelled.

“No, only Douxie can undo the spell.”

Jim considered this for a moment and shook his head. “Let him sleep. He needs it.”

And despite the loud, jarring music, he, Claire, and Archie kept their promise and stayed faithfully at their friend’s side until, four hours later, he woke up long enough to blessedly vanish the clock.

Then, like a little boy with a teddy bear, the already fading Douxie pulled a startled Archie into his arms and held him tight, curling up on his side with his furry prize. Although uncomfortable in his new position and robbed of his draconian dignity, Archie snuggled in and purred, content to listen to the steady breathing of his deeply sleeping familiar.

12 notes · View notes

meigh-day · 4 years ago

Text

Trapped [Bakugo x F!Reader] - Part 2

———————————————————–

Title: Trapped

Pairing: Bakugo x F!Reader

Includes: Swearing

Status: In Progress

Word Count: 1.5k

Previous Next

———————————————————–

It’s a Secret

"Y/Nnnnnnn...." The upbeat voice of your co-worker greeted your ears as she sauntered into the shop. You stood near the counter, rag in hand as you cleaned the displays. Ryo was several years older than you, already in her second year of university. Despite your initial effort to be formal with her, Ryo made it very clear early on that when it was just the two of you she just wanted you to be casual. You didn't take much convincing, it was nice to be able to relax around her.

"Hmm?" You only pause a moment, making sure to look over at Ryo to indicate you were paying attention. It had been three days since the exam and you had been anxiously passing each day in reflective thought. Replaying the Practical Exam in your mind, wondering if what you had done was enough and thinking of a number of different ways you could have re-done each and every action you had taken during the test. Needless to say the stress of it all was clearly displayed on your features and Ryo was sharp as ever.

"You look like shit...." She muttered coming to a stop next to you. Ryo was about three inches taller than you and, in your opinion, pretty. She kept her bright blue hair short, just long enough to tuck behind her ears but kept wavering back and forth between having bangs and growing them out. Right now she was in the middle of growing them out again.

"Gee... thanks Ryo..." You let out a scoff as you return to your cleaning duties. At the moment you were wearing the store uniform which really just consisted of an apron with the company logo embroidered on it and your name tag pinned to the top, under which you wore your normal street clothes. Today you had on some jeans and on over-sized sweatshirt, a fairly standard outfit for you if we are being real. No one would ever accuse you of having anything resembling style but, despite the longing glances you gave the cute outfits at the mall, the main reason you wore the clothes you did came down to a lack of funds. The last time you had purchased something new was just before your grandmother had passed. Since then you settled for wearing the clothes you already had and only replacing them when absolutely necessary. Thankfully you hadn't grown too much so aside from shoes, you could still fit into all the clothes you already had and with your excellent mending skills, you hadn't had to replace much of anything.

" Y/N... I dunno why you are so worried. If I had a quirk like yours you better believe I'd be going places. But no such luck... nooooo not for ol' Ryo...I get saddled with some lame ass quirk." She huffed, kicking the corner of the metal display causing a few of the pre-packaged items to shudder off the self and onto the floor.

"Ryo..." You stop your cleaning and crouch down to pick up the fallen snacks. "It's really not that bad. Think of all the things you could do with your quirk."

"Oh like what?" Ryo looked down at you, an expectant look on her face. Her quirk let her hover off the ground but the snag was she couldn't get any higher than two feet. She had tried for years to increase the height but no amount of training had helped.

"Uh, well you can reach things up on the top shelf...and--" A bag of peanuts drops onto your head, Ryo's reaction to your less than stellar opening.

"Stop right there. Is that's the best you can come up with, I don't want to hear the rest."

"Oh come on Ryo..."

"No... no. It's ok... honestly." She offers you a smile as you stand, snacks piled in your arms. "I came to terms with this fact years ago Y/N." You return her smile but it doesn't feel 100% genuine on your part. Honestly, you wished there was something you could do or say that would magically make her quirk develop beyond what it was, but even you knew that was impossible.

"I'll just have to live vicariously through you...." A smirk slides onto her lips as she drapes an arm across your shoulders. "If there's anything I can do to help you just say the word!"

You let out a soft laugh, a genuine smile on your lips. " I will, but don't worry about me too much. You have a crap ton of your own work to do Ms. University Student..." One by one you place the snacks back onto their proper shelves.

"Yea yea..." Ryo pulls away from you, finally heading to the back of the store to get ready for her shift.

Several minutes later you are standing face to face with an irritated looking Mr. Okuda. He owned the store but aside from counting the money and providing lists of duties, he didn't actually do any of the work. Mr. Okuda was a grumpy and demanding man in his fifties. You knew he had a son but he rarely if ever spoke about personal matters. He didn't give a damn about his employees lives outside of work but would happily use any information he could to get them to do what he wanted. Somehow, he had found out how hard up you were for cash and had no qualms about making you work extra hours at all hours of the day and night. If it was up to him you would work all day everyday and school be damned. Fortunately for you he was 'kind' enough to not interfere with your school schedule. That did not stop him from making you work immediately after school and into the night occasionally. If you weren't so desperate for the money you'd have told him to pound sand, but you would work day and night as long as you had time to go to school.

"L/N, I need you to come in tomorrow night. Taichi can't make it." Without waiting for your response he turned and waddled to the back of the store and disappeared into the office. Taichi was his son and he was a good for nothing freeloader who rarely actually showed up for his shifts. The rare occasion when he did show up, he did nothing but stand behind the counter and read magazines all the while eating whatever food he wanted and paying for none of it.

"...asshole..." You mutter under your breath as you head to the back. Ryo met you halfway there, donning her own apron.

"I don't know why you let him treat you like that Y/N. If it were me I'd tell him just how hard he can fuck off."

"Yea well.... I need this job. "

Ryo watches you a moment as you start to move past her, shaking her head. "I can't believe your grandma makes you work so hard... you better not be giving her all your money Y/N." You glance up at Ryo as she grips your upper arm, a look of concern on her face.

"Ryo..." Lying wasn't something you were fond of doing but you had never been able to come out and tell anyone the truth. Your parent's had died ten years ago and, until a year ago, you had been living with your grandmother. She didn't have much and when she passed away you were left with nothing but for few knick-knacks that she had been fond of. As for family, well she had been the only relative you had left. After she passed away you had been lucky enough to find a small apartment of your own as well as this job.

"Don't worry. I save as much as I can... I just help with bills and stuff. She's... been sick." No one knew the truth and you intended to keep it that way. You just wanted to live as normal of a life as you could and you didn't want to worry anyone. Besides, you were perfectly capable of surviving on your own. It had been over a year and you had managed to keep this job and still do pretty damn well in school.

"Hmm..." Ryo had that look on her face like she was about to try and pry but by some miracle a customer needed help. You took this opportunity to scurry away into the back, grab your things and leave as fast as you could. She could be relentless when it came to getting information. You were fairly certain she could make anyone talk whether they wanted to or not, maybe a career in law enforcement would suit her. The thought had you chuckling as you exited the store, offering Ryo a quick wave along the way. She had intended to pry, no doubt about it, but a needy customer had occupied her time and before she could free herself, you were long gone.

#bnha #my hero x reader #my hero academia #mha bakugou #bakugo #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader

18 notes · View notes

cilldaracailin · 4 years ago

Text

Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Hello my Tumblr Lovelys!

Yeah I haven’t posted twice in a row in a very long time, but I missed posting one of the days this week so I am making up for that.

Thank you as always for all the wonderful comments, love, likes and reads. They are all so very much appreciated!

Hope you all enjoy this one too.

Suze xx :)

“That's the problem with best friends. Sometimes they know you better than you know yourself.”

His nap was perfect and when he woke up, he was curled up against Robyn, his head on her lap as she sat on the corner of the couch, her legs stretched out in front of her. Her hand was curled around his waist and he could feel the tight grip with which she held him and he had no complaints about it at all. He could feel his cheeks tint a little when he felt his new sleeping position on her, realising he must have moved in his sleep and his left arm was now across her legs, his hand flat on her upper thigh under her skirt. It was just a little bit overly intimate for him and he moved his hand in what he was hoped was a not too obvious speed, using a long stretch and yawn as an excuse to move fully from her, a light groan coming from him as his body woke up.

“It will take more than a three-hour nap for you to look any less tired.” Robyn commented as he ran his hands over his face as he settled to sit beside her.

“Robyn this is a look you are going to have to get used to seeing over the next two months and I know you don’t like it but unfortunately it’s gonna be my face for a while.”

“I like your face I just don’t like these.” She reached over and traced the dark circles under his eyes.

“They come with my face and my face has to go on tour with me so it is just the way it has to be. Please be forewarned that at the premier, I am going to be tired. London is the last one and last part of the promotion so I will hit a wall quickly once the after party is done.” He smiled at her frown. “Just the…”

“Way it is, yeah I know.” She sighed. “Well at least you can sleep all day Saturday.”

“I am not going to lie, it is probably what I am going to do. The Monday after, I am straight into filming for the new movie.”

“You never stop do you.”

“Not really no.”

Robyn sighed again. “Do you know where you are filming yet?”

“Matthew has some people out scouting locations at the moment but right now I have no idea where we are going to end up.”

“It’s very selfish of me to say, but I hope it’s not too far away from Kilcreen.”

“So not America.”

She shook her head. “No not America. I still want to be able to come and see you.”

“Well I shall have a word with Matthew for you.”

“Thanks Taron and we are going to have to get you a new shamrock for your cheek.” She dragged a finger down the tear stained shamrock on his cheek.

“You too.”

“So shall we go and do that and get ready to go for dinner?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Once they had freshened up and tattoos had been replaced, they left Robyn’s home, Taron with his flag around his shoulders again, and walked towards the small gap in the hedge to get into Kilcreen GAA grounds. Robyn said hello to the people she knew as she walked by, Taron keeping close to her nodding to those Robyn greeted. Kilcreen GAA club house was almost heaving with excited punters, enjoying their national holiday. Thankfully though, even with the larger crowd, Robyn and Taron had no problems finding a table in the lounge, Taron quite relieved it was a table for two right at the back in a little corner and he sat in beside Robyn on the soft furnishings so he could watch everything going on around him. He still felt comfortable and not worried about being overly noticed and as always he felt safe with Robyn. He picked up the menu from the table and scanned over the options, feeling his stomach grumbling. It had been a long time since his breakfast of Irish pancakes and he was ready to for some food.

“So, what is good here.” He asked her.

“Everything.”

“That’s not helpful Robyn.”

“Well because it is St Patrick’s Day and as you want to have a thorough Irish experience, you should get the bacon and cabbage. Proper Irish food though the…”

“Sold. Bacon and cabbage it is.” Taron put his menu back down.

“That easy huh?”

“Yep. So what are you going to have?”

Robyn scanned the menu. “Think I am going to have the lasagne.”

“That is Italian food not Irish food.”

“Taron, I can have bacon and cabbage whenever I want. I just need to go home to my mam’s house and volá, Irish dinner.”

“Lasagne is not Irish food though.”

The server came over and once they had ordered, Taron making sure to get his drink of choice in too, they sat back against the seat, close together watching the customers in front of them enjoying the evening out.

“So I gave you some warning about my friends, do I need something similar?”

“Well you already met Claire.”

“Aww yes Claire. She liked to smell my hoodie.” He replied with a grin.

Robyn didn’t answer straight away as the server came back with Robyn’s glass of water and bottle of cider and Taron’s Guinness.

“All of the rules have been covered now chicken.” Taron took a drink from his glass. “I wore green, I didn’t say any stereotypical catchphrases and I got my Guinness.”

“And you had a duck in the race.”

“And won!”

“And won.” Robyn repeated as she took a drink from her own glass. Every time they saw each other, they went on a serious emotional roller coaster. One minute they were laughing with each other and the next one of them either cried or needed a serious hug and pep talk and Robyn was finding it hard to keep up with it all but she was so thankful for him. She couldn’t have asked for a better supportive reaction from him once he had learnt about her failed relationship and as he sat right beside her, his left leg was snug against her right and she didn’t know if it was because he felt a little nervous being so out in the open in a very busy pub or because he wanted to just keep her close to him and whichever reason it was, she was glad for the closeness. She had said it to herself so many times but the man sitting beside her was becoming a tidal wave in her life and every moment she spent with him, she was willing to have him wash over her and she was feeling still a little emotional charged so slipped her hand into his under the table, smiling at the squeeze he gave her.

“So I am already on my guard about Claire possibly smelling my shirt, anyone else I should be wary of?”

“You have already met Emma.”

“Briefly.”

“Well Emma will be there and her husband Tommy. I don’t think you need to be worried about her. She forgave me for going to see you in New York.” Robyn took a quick intake of breath when she realised what she had said and grimaced as she took in his face of surprise. “Ahh shit.”

“Ahh shit? What have you been keeping from me?” He felt her reach over and used her free hand to encase his hand that she was already holding and rubbed over his knuckles using her thumbs. “And hand massages are not going to distract me. Robyn, tell me because if Emma is going to look at me weird for the whole evening I should probably know why.”

“I told Emma I was sick and at home in bed when I was actually getting on a plane to go and see you in New York and obviously because she is Emma and my manager, she found out. Wasn’t super happy with me.”

“Is that why one of the terms and conditions on my voucher book was to make sure I gave you enough notice so you could take time off work if we did something together?”

“Pretty much.”

“Robyn…”

“You don’t have to say anything Taron. Emma said enough and she is not going to look at you weird. It was a lecture I was given the next day in the office and it wasn’t mentioned again. Emma knows all about you and me and what happened between us and she understood why I did what I did and was a supportive friend but as a manager, she had to have her say too. There is going to be no weirdness at the céilí, I promise and I have been the best employee since.”

Taron didn’t look too convinced but he nodded. “Ok so two more women I need to look out for.” Robyn frowned at him and he smiled at her. “So Claire, Emma and Tommy. Anyone else?”

“Shane and Darragh.” She heard him repeat the two names. “Shane is a childhood friend of mine and Claire’s and Darragh is his husband. Such a gorgeous couple. Good fun and always up for a laugh. I think you will get on well with them.”

“Ok Shane and Darragh.”

“And then there is Nick, who is Claire’s current crush.” A wonderful wicked smile filled Taron’s face. “And I am so glad you are on the same page as me with this one. She is disgusted at me that I asked him to come along but I know I am going to enjoy the evening a lot.”

“Oh me too Robyn and you know Nick how?”

“He’s in the gospel choir. He’s a good friend of mine.”

“Are you up to some match making this evening?” Grinned Taron.

“Maybe a little bit. Hoping you might help me.”

“With pleasure.”

“I am sure just like your friends, there is going to be that teasing element at the beginning and a few smart remarks thrown in for good measure too but they are a good group of friends and have been good to me over the last few years.”

“I have some comebacks in my back pocket for when I need them. Now we need to talk about the dancing.”

“The dancing.”

“I am not a great dancer.”

“Do I really need to go back to the Rocketman movie to prove you wrong? Or mention New Year’s?”

“That was scripted and taught dancing and New Year’s was just dancing. I am not a great dancer.”

“You don’t need to be.”

“Robyn you are bringing me to a céilí which is a very specific kind of dance.”

“It is so easy Taron. All the dances are based on a four four timing and it’s just a lot of spinning and crossing places and moving in circles and don’t look at me like that. I know you understand what four four timing is.”

“Yeah that’s the part I understood. The rest I am a bit unsure of.”

“Not every Irish person comes out of the womb with the ability to Irish dance. Most of the people going will never have been to a céilí before and there will be instructions for each dance too. You won’t be expected to stand up and know what to do. Even I don’t know what to do.”

“You are a bad liar.”

“There is one go to céilí dance that every Irish person has an idea of but honestly, I haven’t a clue otherwise. I just know it’s going to be a whole load of fun and very Irish and I intend to fully deliver on my promise of a thorough Irish day and experience for you.”

Taron was ready to respond and tell her she had most definitely so far fulfilled the brief of being Irish for the day but the server came over to their table with their meals and he was completely distracted as his food was placed in front of him.

“Need anything Robyn?”

“No thanks Sally. We are all good.”

“Well enjoy your meal.”

“Do you know everyone in this town?” Asked Taron as he unfolded his knife and fork.

“It’s a small town.”

“But yet everyone is so respectful.”

“What do you mean?” She asked him as she shook some salt over the chips that came with her meal, pushing them between herself and Taron knowing he was going to want some.

“I haven’t missed the looks I have been getting.”

“Looks?”

“A lot of people either know who I am or just find you with a man very interesting.”

“I am going to go with that second option. Like I said small town. Kinda hard to keep your private business that private but then again, I have already told you that the Irish are very civil towards celebrities. Wouldn’t normally go up to them.”

“I like it here.” Taron tried some of his dinner. “And oh my goodness this is delicious.”

“As I told you earlier Taron. Kilcreen is your little bubble.”

She only saw Taron nod from the corner of her eye and concentrated on tucking into her own dinner. She was so glad she came from a small town and that she could give Taron complete peace of mind when he came to see her, knowing that he was safe from prying eyes and those who did question it, kept it to themselves and if they did recognise him, didn’t take it any further than knowing who he was and leaving it at that. It was something she had always wanted for Taron and knew although he might not say it out loud, very much appreciated the freedom he had with her just to be himself and not worry about being approached.

Just before nine, Taron was happily finishing off his second glass of Guinness and waiting for Robyn to return from the bathroom. The lounge had emptied a little, a lot of the customers heading to the céilí but the tables were still pretty full, the chat loud and happy around him. Apart from being home in Aberystwyth or a private event, sitting comfortably in a pub was not something he got to experience so peacefully very often and he was very much taking in the easy-going atmosphere and mood. He saw Robyn heading back his way but she was stopped at a table three down from where they were sitting to talk to the people sitting at it. He watched her interaction with them, her face in a smile, then a grin and then a full laugh and it made him smile. He liked it when she was happy.

“What are you grinning at?” She asked him as she walked over to the table.

“You.” He answered honestly.

“Me?”

“Yep.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Nope.”

Robyn raised an eyebrow at him and watched as he drained the last of his drink. “Ok well are you ready to get those dancing feet going?”

“As I will ever be.” Taron shuffled out of the seat bringing their jackets and his flag with him. “Just need to pay for dinner.”

“Already done.”

“Robyn.” She heard the warning tone in his voice.

“I used the money from the duck race.”

She took his hand on her left shoulder as she walked through the lounge as a sign of agreement and made her way to the double doors and out into the hallway before taking a right turn towards the gymnasium. Once out of the lounge, Taron had let go of her shoulder and walked beside her, both stopping at the table in the hallway.

“Hey Robyn.” Greeted the man at the table.

“Hey Ray.”

“Two?”

“Already have my tickets.” Robyn routed the green tickets from her bag and handed them over. “Here ya go.”

“Perfect.” He stamped the inside of their wrists with a little green shamrock stamp, Robyn watching from the corner of her eyes at how Taron’s face lit up at the stamp. “Just so you can come and go as you please. Sit where you want, though I am sure I have already seen Claire inside.”

“Thanks Ray.”

Taron opened the door for her, letting her into the gymnasium of the club house first. “Seriously Robyn. You know everyone in this town.”

She just smiled at him as she walked by and once they were inside the large gym, she could hear the chuckle come from him. The white awning that was used for parties and wedding receptions had been set up and green lights flooded the place, making the white glow bright green. Irish flags and bunting covered the uppermost edge of the awning and that traditional Irish music was playing through the speakers. The tables were arranged all around the walls so there was a large space in the middle of the floor for the céilí to take place and each table had a centre piece with an Irish flag and green, white and orange helium balloons.

“Well I have stepped into every stereotypical Irish movie ever!” He grinned. “So now I get to use all those phrases!”

“Absolutely not!” She replied. “Only the Irish can get away with this, otherwise we take full offense.”

“Well me and my flag fit right in!”

With a shake of her head, she took his hand and led him around and through tables and over towards where she had caught a glimpse of Claire. The table her friend had picked was at the back on the left hand-side, a snug little table set up for eight people, just as Robyn had asked her to do, wanting to make sure that if he needed, Taron could have a table away from the dance floor and crowds.

“Robyn!” Claire cried getting up with her arms out ready to hug her friend. It was a tight little hug and her friend kept her mouth close to her ear so she could whisper to her. “He actually came?”

“Of course he did.”

“How is he?”

“Tired.”

“And…”

“And he learnt about Keith this evening.” Claire let go of Robyn and stared at her, her mouth dropping open. “And that is a wonderful impression of a fish there Claire.” Robyn turned a little and reached for Taron’s hand and he came to stand beside her. “You already know Claire.”

“Well hello again.”

“Hello to you too. So, we have moved on from flour to an all green look?” Questioned Claire, dropping the sudden news Robyn had just given her, knowing she would have to wait until she was alone with her friend to talk to her about it.

“It’s St Patrick’s Day.” He answered simply.

“Do you have any control over him?” Claire asked her friend.

“None what so ever and moving on.”

Robyn walked Taron around Claire so they could stand at the table of people who were waiting their turn for an introduction. “And this is Emma who you have already met and her husband Tommy.”

“Hi Emma.” Taron moved over to her and leaning forward took her in for a quick hug and kiss on her cheek. “Sorry about New York.” He whispered into her ear. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“You too Taron.” Emma didn’t reply to his whisper but lingered with a return kiss to his cheek instead, glad when he was giving a smile as their hug ended.

“Tommy.” Taron reached over to shake his hand.

“And then on the opposite side, Shane and Darragh.” Robyn had her male friends warned to keep their hands to themselves and as Taron walked around to greet them, she gave Shane a look that screamed behave and she frowned at the wink he gave back to her.

“Nice to meet you both too.” Taron wasn’t really surprised by the hugs and kiss on his cheek he got from them and was sure Shane’s hands were lower than was needed for an initial meet but he let it slide.

“And then there is Nick.”

It was a more manly handshake he got from the last person at the table. “I saw you in the crowd earlier when the choir was preforming.”

“Yeah I was there. You did a wonderful version of Tiny Dancer.”

“Thanks so much. Not too sure if it compares to yours though.”

“Thanks Nick but really not much of a comparison. Two different takes on the song.”

Robyn came to stand beside him. “And that is everyone.”

“Well this was a much more civil introduction compared to when you met my friends.” He said as he put their coats on the back of one of the chairs, folding the flag over them.

“Oh just give it time Taron.”

As Taron took a seat next to Nick, Claire decided it was the perfect time to drag Robyn away, using the excuse of needing to get a round of drinks in at the bar.

“Just let me make sure he is…”

“He is grand Robyn. Shane will look after him.”

“Jesus Claire, did you see how low his hand went on Taron’s back?” Robyn had no choice but to be pulled along by her friend, taking a glance back to Taron who smiled at her and nodded, turning his attention back to Nick who had sprung up a conversation with him.

“Oh I saw but what I need to know is, how low have your hands have gone.”

“Fuck’s sake Claire, are you really asking me that?” Robyn stopped on the middle of the dance floor so she could glare at her friend.

“Friends share.” Claire grabbed her hand once more and they made their way to the bar.

“And my hands have not touched that man.” Robyn and Claire stood stopped to stand in the line waiting to get to the bar. “Well actually that’s not entirely true.”

Claire turned so suddenly; Robyn had to grab her shoulders to stop her friend from falling over on her heels. “Robyn Quinn, you give me more details now or I go back there and grill him about everything.”

Robyn chuckled but also knew her friend was serious. “I gave him a shoulder massage in London last month. He had a bad fall on set a few days before and was a little tender.” Robyn had filled her friend in on most of the details with her weekend with Taron but had left some out.

“You gave him a massage!”

Robyn gave her friend a little push as the line for the bar moved. “He brought a voucher with him.”

Claire grinned. “Oh, so he is using that book to his full advantage. I need more details Robyn. What does his skin feel like?”

“Claire…” Robyn’s tone was playful but she knew where her friend was quickly going with her questions.

“Get a new blusher?” Claire asked her grinning. “Your cheeks a little pinker than normal.”

“Soft and warm.” Robyn said quickly and then she sighed. “And oh Claire… I could feel the tightness of his muscles under my hands, the strength in his shoulders and arms and every now and again he would make this sound when I rubbed a particularly tender spot.”

“Keep talking.”

“Then I pulled his body back to me so he could just lean against me and I got to his head again.”

“You and his bloody head and hair.”

“Not just his head. Forehead, eyebrows, nose and cheeks.”

“Jesus Robyn, I want one of those.”

Robyn smiled. “It’s his favourite thing in the whole world and I love giving them to him because I can just see him visibly relax under my hands.” Robyn bit her lip and looked to her friend. Claire had been her best friend since they were kids and they told each other everything, the brunette being a huge crutch for her over the last few years. She knew she could trust her with the most personal details of her time with Taron. “He just happened to be shirtless during that head massage and I might have run my hands down his chest too a few times.”

It took Claire a few seconds to answer her. “Did he say anything to you?”

“Nope. Let me do it.”

“You know he is absolutely crazy about you Robyn.”

“He let me do it because he knows it’s where my hands were last year when I gave him the CPR.”

“And?”

“Details!” Claire said excitedly.

Robyn slightly rolled her eyes at her friend. “I just like feeling his heart beat under my hands.”

“Yeah and touching his body.”

Robyn could feel the heat in her cheeks. “Fine and touching his body. You know what his outfit on New Year’s Eve did to me. That boy knows how to dress but Claire, even the skin on his chest is soft and warm. The whole man is just like a soft and warm blanket.”

“And the chest hair?”

Robyn didn’t answer Claire and avoided her eyes for a few seconds, stepping around her as the line for the bar moved again.

“I will get an answer from you eventually about that chest hair Robyn. You know I will.” Claire came to stand beside her friend. “So, has he enjoyed his day?”

“Fucking won the duck race!” Robyn groaned, making Claire laugh. “And yeah I think so. He is just knackered.”

“He looks it and I heard about the duck race. I met Jane down the town. She was a little excited to have and I quote her ‘met that sex God that is utterly in love with Robyn’.”

“I am so glad I dragged Taron away from her.” Robyn said, ignoring the second half of Claire’s sentence.

“So, you told him about Keith then.” The two girls were three customers away from the bar and Claire couldn’t hold the topic in any more. She had to know.

“That was my mother, not me.”

“Called him a fucker?” Asked Claire.

“Yep.”

“How did he take it?”

“Pretty well actually but at the same time Claire it was horrible and not because Taron wasn’t disgusted at Keith. Believe me he was but because he felt so guilty for what happened with the media and me going to New York and was so worried that his actions had opened up healed feelings for me. He was so upset. He is still carrying so much guilt over it all but we talked it through again and I think at last we have put it behind us.”

“Not something he was expecting to hear. Keith the fucking gobshite.” Fumed Claire.

“No I think not and although I saw the flare of anger in his eyes, it honestly did not last long at all. That man is still traumatised by what happened in New York.

“Robyn you flew to his set and confronted him, yelling at him. Of course he is.”

Robyn cringed. “I don’t want him to feel like that anymore. I have told him so and we have done so much together since New York, I thought he had put it behind him. I pray he listened to me this time. I really don’t want to see those puppy dog eyes from him again or the tears in them.”

“Tears?”

“He’s wears his emotions on his sleeve with those he fully trusts and to be honest I think he is just so exhausted that he couldn’t help himself. I would say on another day, the anger would have come to the forefront but instead today it was him going over how much he had hurt me.”

“Have I told you yet that he loves you?”

“He does not.”

“Yes, he does. He put his anger for what that bastard did to the side and instead concentrated on how his reaction to the media hurt you and when he heard about Keith it just pushed him over the edge a little and he became concerned that he had further upset and hurt you.”

“A little concerned.”

“And he loves you.” Claire frowned as the blonde scoffed at her. “Robyn that man hasn’t taken his eyes off you since we joined this queue. I can see him from here looking at you. You pulled out the short skirt and cropped top for him?”

“It’s my St Patrick’s Day skirt. It’s green.”

“I have never seen you in this skirt before. I don’t even think I have seen this skirt before and you in a crop top? With a pair of high waisted jeans, sure but with some skin on show? You Robyn Quinn are as head over heels in love with that man as much as he is with you and don’t shake your head at me. Robyn, he came over to see you for two nights! You went to him for New Year’s Eve and you kissed him!”

“He kissed me.”

“No, you kissed him.”

“In Aber yeah but he kissed me this evening.”

Claire stood staring at her friend. “So, what is that four now?”

“Five.” Robyn whispered quietly.

“Please explain to me once again about his kisses. Let me live vicariously through you.”

Robyn automatically bit her bottom lip, her hands running through hair. “So soft, very quick and almost reluctant and even his lips are warm.”

Claire dramatically placed her arm on her forehead. “Oh, dear God you are killing me.” Claire took her arm away from her forehead and looked to her friend very seriously. “If you don’t go over there, sit on his on lap, grab him by his collar and kiss him hard, while dragging your hands through his hair, I am going to scream at you. That man needs to be kissed stupid and you need to be the one to do it.”

“Claire…”

“Oh, don’t Claire me! Blah blah blah, we are friend’s blah blah blah. Shut the fuck up Robyn. I know you and I know you are so guarded when it comes to the opposite sex but Taron, he is someone you can absolutely trust.”

“I do trust him.”

“Then fucking go and kiss him!” Claire’s voice was a little louder than she intended and Robyn groaned, praying her words didn’t carry to Taron. “Forget about the distance, forget about his job and media and think about him and what he deserves and needs and what you absolutely need. I just want you to be happy.” Claire threw her arm around Robyn, giving her a squeeze. “He would make you so happy Robyn.”

“He does.”

“And it could be so much more.” Robyn sighed against her friend. “He is going home tomorrow.”

“Yep.”

“When do you get to see him again?”

“He is coming to see me in RENT and then he invited me to go to his premier for Kingsman yesterday. That’s the end of April.”

Claire let her friend go and grinned. “Fucking hell that man is keen. Another fancy dress with a low neck line?” She winked laughing as Robyn rolled her eyes. “Hey you told me he was the one who picked that dress for you and you wore it.”

“And he has been warned. Stella, his stylist will be helping him.”

Claire shook her head but smiled at her. “Life of luxury now Robyn.”

“It is not about that.” Robyn replied a little sternly.

“I know that Robyn and I know you would never take advantage of him. You have done nothing but look after him and he had better be doing the same for you.”

“He does. It just so happens that his life is a little more extravagant than mine in some ways but Taron loves nothing more than a cuddle on the couch.”

Claire chuckled. “Had your cuddle yet today?” She asked as they reached the bar.

“In fact, I did. Taron had a little nap before we came out for dinner.”

“And where did his head end up?”

Robyn didn’t answer her friend but gave her order of drinks to the barman, ordering a bottle of corona for Taron, a cider for her and two pint glasses of water. Despite her teasing, Robyn knew Claire only wanted the best for her and always had her best interests at heart and as she spoke jokingly about Taron, she had the upmost respect for him and as she felt Claire hug her from behind, she knew it was just a bit of banter between them.

“You deserve a man who will love everything about you and Taron is that man. I can see it. I just want you to be ridiculously happy and if that sex God can do it, then I am routing for you both.”

Robyn took Claire’s hands away from her waist and turned to look at her. “I know Claire and thank you but please don’t call him a sex God to his face.”

“Even if you are thinking it.” She winked.

“And while we are on the topic of sex God’s, how’s Nick?”

“I am still pissed at your for inviting him but he is so gorgeous in his green shirt and jeans and he has his hair in that sideways part and…”

“And you need to go and sit on his lap and kiss him stupid.” Laughed Robyn. “You know I have the inside scoop Claire. Maybe he might be feeling the same.”

“Don’t you even tempt faith.”

“Only returning the advice.” Robyn said handing her money over to the barman as he brought back her drinks. “Hey Claire. Speaking of faith and ya know the good old tradition of Irish slagging, can you go easy on Taron please? Normally he would be up for a good laugh but he is so tired and running on empty let’s take it down a notch ok? I already have to be on my guard with Shane, I need you helping me. I actually want him to come back for a visit, not run for the hills.”

Seeing the slight begging in her eyes and knowing Robyn was prepared for some teasing over Taron, Claire nodded. “Sure. I’ll tone it down.”

“Right down Claire. I happily would have left him sleeping but neither him or you would have agreed to that.”

“I promise Robyn. I know how much he means to you and I can see it on his face that he is tired.”

“Thanks Claire.”

“But…”

“No buts. I have a Nick to threaten you with.”

Claire’s eyes opened wide. “Ok so I have your back with Taron then.”

“Thank you. Claire you do realise you and Nick are going to have to be partners for the dancing right? I mean Emma has Tommy, Shane has been giggly with excitement since we got the tickets to dance with Darragh and well Taron is with me, so that only leaves Nick for you.”

With a wink to her friend who only then realised the position she was in, Robyn picked up her four glasses and made her way back to the table, a small smile on her face as she walked thinking over Claire’s words, happy she was going to give the teasing and slagging a rest. It meant she really only had to keep a closer eye on Shane throughout the night, knowing he was going to come out with all guns blazing, having just the smallest crush on Taron, despite being married to the love of his life for the last three years.

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Friends #Love #Cuddles #Sleep #St. Patrick's Day #Guinness #Céilí #Dancing #Friendship #Girl Talk #Laughter #Robyn and Taron #being irish

21 notes · View notes

starblazerm31 · 5 years ago

Text

The Courtiers as Shitty Retail Customers

This HC of mine seems to have gotten lost in the miasma somewhere. It was an ask I had gotten in response to the Main 6 as Retail Workers HC.

Now...as a note...everything I write here I have seen/happened to me personally. EVERYTHING. These are not your typical “Karen” stories.

Content warnings: Bodily fluids (blood, vomit, feces, etc.). Blatant rudeness. Flagrant stupidity. THEFT. Disturbing malevolent behavior. Unwanted butt pinching.

The Courtiers As Shitty Retail Customers (cont. of Main 6 as Retail Workers)

Valdemar

That customer who leaves unexplained blood spatters ALL OVER the single bathroom. They didn’t seem injured when they went in...but after they came out, everyone swears they committed a murder in there. Poor Julian got pegged to clean it up since he’s the one certified in hazardous spills and Muriel was off that day.

The customer who stares at everyone in a really uncomfortable way. Like...are they planning on slitting someone's throat right here in the store? Please don’t...the employees really don’t want to have to deal with the inquiry and paperwork.

The customer who will grab a worker and just...occupy them. Talking. Oddly. About anything and yet absolutely nothing. But still dropping the most uncomfortable TMI. One time, they grabbed Asra and just HAD to go into explicit detail about how they skin an animal after hunting. And how much they love Satan.

The customer who will ask a really dangerous request of the worker they swept up just hoping to see them get hurt. One time, he asked Julian to check on a specific tire which was WAAAAAY up on the top of the huge tire rack. Chuckled to himself when the tire fell on Julian and almost broke his arm while he was ten feet in the air on a ladder.

Gets really offended when an employee gets too close. "Come any closer and I'll stab you." Julian: "Do it. Five cameras can see you RIGHT. NOW.

*flashes a knife at Muriel* Muriel: "My dick is bigger."

Volta

That customer who grabs food off of the shelf, eats it, then deposits the empty (or half-empty) wrapper/bottle on another shelf in another part of the store.

She once stole some things from the store and got a big head about it. So she decided to come back the very next night to steal some more. All the employees were wise to her and watched her very closely. She stuffed a bunch of items up her shirt and made her way to the door. Nadia and Muriel were standing there waiting for her. She panicked and dropped everything out of her shirt in front of everyone (all the employees proceeded to point at her and laugh) and then walked out in a hurry.

When free snacks are offered to customers, she proceeds to stuff her face while spilling the snacks all over the store. She leaves a trail of chips/popcorn wherever she walks.

Somehow managed to knock down an entire shelf of gallon jugs of water. The water jugs all exploded on the floor. It looked like a Noah's Ark situation.

Walked by Muriel and proceeded to suddenly vomit onto the floor.

Will unfold and an entire shelf of shirts (about an hour's worth of work) just to be a bitch.

Tried to steal a "Try Me" stick of deodorant that literally hundreds of people had touched. Saw that she was being watched by Muriel, so she proceeded to look Muriel right in the eye and apply the deodorant. Muriel: "...I hope she gets sick."

*grabs Nadia* "I think that worker is spying on me!" *points to Julian* "He keeps following me around!" Julian is stocking shelves, not even paying attention to her. "And his body odor is really offensive!" *Nadia looks to her dubiously* "I'm sorry about that. Here, let me fix it." *walks over to Julian, explains the situation, and then gets on the radio* "Watch the customer in accessories, they are behaving strangely." Thirty minutes later, Volta is being escorted out by police for theft. Julian: "Body odor! *huffs* Enjoy the lockup BO you're gonna have tomorrow, bitch."

Vlastomil

Brings in Wiggler. "He's my emotional support worm!"

Wiggler pees on the floor. Is asked to take his pet out of the store. Proceeds to scream about how the store targets the mentally ill. (Muriel has to go to the back to rage in private with Asra)

Asks about products, and then proceeds to criticize the store for even carrying such "ridiculous" items.

Brings a fuckload of coupons, and expects them to be applied to clearance items. Finds out that coupons cannot be honored for clearance items, and leaves two whole shopping carts of random items for the staff to reshelf.

"I can't see myself spending $3 on THAT."

To Asra: "I'm going to need your employee discount." Asra: "So...I can move in with you tonight?" Vlastomil: "What?" Asra: "Well, if I give you my discount, I will be promptly fired. I have a snake to take care of. If I lose my job, I lose my apartment and my ability to feed myself and my snake. Since YOU would be responsible for my getting fired, I'd expect YOU to take care of me and my snake afterward. So...I can move in with you tonight?" Vlastomil: "...nevermind."

"The handsome manager said I could get this item with a 10% discount because it's not the brand I'm wanting." Julian: "Lucio isn't here today." Vlastomil: "He said it the other day." Julian: "He has to actually be here and tell me that himself, sorry. He'll be here tomorrow, try again then."

Went into the bathroom. A few minutes later, came out and grabbed Muriel and said that the bathroom needed to be cleaned. Muriel looked inside and was APPALLED by the sight of feces smeared EVERYWHERE. The floor, all of the stall doors, the trash can, the sinks, the toilets. Vlastomil: "Yeah, I had an accident." Muriel did not hide his disgust and went to get the cleaning cart. Threatened to quit that night. Muriel: "This is the kind of stuff DOCTORS AND NURSES deal with! They get paid at least $20 an hour! I make MINIMUM FUCKING WAGE!!!"

Vulgora

The customer that snaps at every single employee that speaks to them.

"No one likes (sports team)! Why the hell do you even carry merch for this shitty team?!" (because there are more fans of that sports team than of the team that THEY like in that particular area)

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE'S A PENALTY FOR LETTING MY LAYAWAY EXPIRE?! I WANT MY FULL REFUND!!!"

"RETURN THIS ITEM!" Portia: "We don't carry this item." Vulgora: "YES YOU DO, I BOUGHT IT HERE!!" Portia: "I'm sorry, but this item is exclusive to (different store)." Vulgora: "YOU'RE AN IDIOT! LET ME SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER!" Nadia proceeds to tell them the EXACT. SAME. THING. Vulgora: "YOU'RE ALL MORONS! I'M CALLING CORPORATE!"

"How do I install a trailer hitch?" Julian: "I'm sorry, I don't know." Vulgora: "Well they just need to employ a trained monkey here!" Julian: "We ARE accepting applications, you know."

"Is this shit real gold?" Portia: "Yes, 18k." Vulgora: "How much is it?" Portia: *looks* "$250." Vulgora: "What gold do you have for $20?" Portia: "Nothing."

"I WILL CLIMB OVER THIS DESK AND MESS YOU UP!" Portia: *points to the camera aimed directly at them* "Do it. I'll see you in court."

They lost their place in line because they had to go and look at something. When the person behind them stepped up to the register and started to get their items rung up, they dashed back in front of the person and grabbed Portia's arm to stop her from ringing up the other person's items. Drew back in shock and horror when Portia immediately balled up her fist and held it threateningly at them. Nadia was standing right there next to Portia. Nadia: "You need to leave. Right now." After they left, Nadia looked to Portia and said: "You wouldn't have gotten in trouble if you'd hit them, you know." Portia: "No one grabs me. No one."

"YOU'RE HIDING ALL OF THE STORE EXCLUSIVE POP FIGURES IN THE BACK SO YOU IDIOTS CAN BUY THEM ALL AND SELL THEM ON EBAY!!" Julian: "I'm sorry, but you're incorrect. That Pop figure is $8, and no one here wants to lose their job over an $8 figure. Plus...the figure you're wanting isn't at this store anyway." Vulgora: "AND WHY NOT?!" Julian: "...Because it's sold online only." *shows them the online info that clearly states "online-only"*

Valerius

The customer who expects an employee to follow them around with a basket while they shop.

"Is this organic?" Julian: "Yes, sir, it is." Valerius: "I don't believe you. Places like this can't possibly carry organic items."

Left an ENTIRE. PILE. of tried-on clothes in the dressing room when the limit on items was 4.

Opened at least 20 different tubes of lipstick and swiped them on his arm. Put them all back on the shelf. Asra could be heard swearing as he had to pull each lipstick off of the shelf and dispose of them since they were no longer sanitary and could not be sold. "Couldn't he just steal? It would have been so much easier..."

Comes into the store drunk off his ass and acts belligerent to everyone he sees. Gets so OFFENDED when asked to leave.

"Are these diamonds real?" Asra: "They are lab-grown." Valerius: "So they aren't real." Asra: "They are lab-grown, so they are synthetic diamonds." Valerius: "So they aren't real." Asra: *sighs* "They wouldn't be sold for just $50 if they were."

Starts fights with other customers because he thinks "They're weird."

The customer who accosts other customers, thinking they work there. Even though they AREN'T. WEARING. A. UNIFORM.

Stuffs a pile of clothes he decided he doesn't want behind the tampons.

Demands that the single bathroom be unlocked, even though the single bathroom being locked means that it's occupied.

"How do these pants make my package look?" Julian: "...I'm not going to look, sir. But they make your calves look amazing."

Walked by Asra and pinched his ass. Looked so shocked when Asra whirled around and yelled at him. Valerius: "Hey, I thought you would like that!" Asra: "I CLEARLY DID NOT! That is called SEXUAL ASSAULT!!! YOU GO TO JAIL FOR THAT!!!"

#the arcana headcanons #arcana headcanons #the arcana asra #the arcana julian #the arcana nadia #the arcana portia #the arcana muriel #starblazerm31 headcanons #who just pinches a strangers ass

45 notes · View notes

jj-ktae · 6 years ago

Text

Millennials - Part 5 -

Title: Millennials Genre: Fluff, romance Pairing: Kim Yugyeom x You Summary: Life is made of stages and each of them is a hard push on the back, forcing you to forge ahead. You’re facing your biggest crisis, and then there’s him, who lives from day to day. Of course he does, he is just a kid. Words: 4601 Warning: Small age difference. Yugyeom x Noona Reader.

Please check my masterlist for previous chapters!

Part 5

It’s a beautiful week. Yugyeom doesn’t know how, but he managed to memorize two choreographies in the span of three hours. He flies from school to home, footsteps light and feathery as he can’t stop thinking about his date with you.

He never expected things to go this well.

Yugyeom remembers exactly how ecstatic he was, how hyper he felt and how he couldn’t stop himself from going to Bambam’s to yell his passion. Bambam had laughed, merely praising him but still wary enough to tell him not to expect too much.

He had laughed, barely listening to his friend as he was twirling around, face smug. The days following came like a blur and he couldn’t wait to go back to work so he could see you again. Half of him was scared, the thought of you being cold still clear in his memory but he was mostly eager.

You could beat him up and he would offer his face for more.

He doesn’t try to contact you. He found himself typing a text a couple of times, but stopped before he could press send. Jinyoung warned him not to get carried away and make a fool of himself so he followed his friend’s advice.

When Yugyeom arrives at the grocery store this Sunday, he takes a deep breath and enters the shop.

You feel weird.

It’s not like there’s anything to worry about; your date went well and you were even able to be nice for once. You ate well, had a good time and got a free scarf so everything should be just fine, right?

So why is it that you feel so ashamed with what happened? Why can’t you think about Yugyeom without feeling your face burn with embarrassment?

You don’t even know why you acted the way you did. It was all good, he was about to leave, but you had to be stupid and run after him. On top of that, you even pecked his cheek.

Oh god, he must feel so freaked out now.

Naya squealed when you called her the day after. She told you she was relieved that you finally opened to that lovely kid and that you definitely should invite him over to pay back for his kindness.

And the worst part is that you agreed. You even anticipate the meeting, refusing to believe that you actually enjoy the slow churn of your insides every time you think about his smile.

It’s fine, you think. Kim Yugyeom has no effect on you.

He just happens to be a very gentle and caring boy, with a dashing smile and a tendency to look at you like you are his most precious property.

When Naya tells you she was absolutely right from the start and that Yugyeom obviously likes you, you can’t find it in yourself to deny it like you always do.

Because the thought in itself isn’t disturbing at all.

You’re not one to become all mushy though, so you hope things won’t get weird once Yugyeom will arrive.

But everything you built goes down the drain as the grocery shop’s door opens and a smiley Yugyeom steps in, hidden into a long coat.

“Hi, noona.”

You nod, lips tight as you count the coins a little boy reunited just for a bag of candies. What do you answer? Hi Yugyeom? Just hi?

Yugyeom smiles brightly as he walks past the counter and enters the tiny staff-room to get rid of his coat.

You wave at the kid as he runs away, shaking the bag crazily.

“Are you feeling better?” Yugyeom startles you when you hear him from behind. You turn around and find him, proud and giant with his fitting long-sleeved tee-shirt – when did he start wearing such things? - You freeze, his words registering at a slow pace because he is way too close and you can smell the subtle scent of his perfume.

“Better?” You speak, tongue rolling against you lips as you try to find an explanation to what is currently happening.

Yugyeom chuckles, surprised to see you so out of it when you always have everything under control. “You were sick, are you feeling better?”

Your mouth turns into a tiny round shape and a soft humming sound makes you finally realize what he is talking about. You really need to get a grip, right now. “Yes, I’m feeling way better.”

Yugyeom offers a smile, nodding and sending locks of hair over his eyes. “Good.” He stands there, silent as he looks at you. You usually tell him what he has to do but you seem…off? Maybe he is overthinking the situation.

When he takes a step back you snap out of your thoughts, coughing loudly to grab a piece of paper where your colleague wrote the tasks for today. You take a deep breath. “The floor needs some cleaning while the shop is not busy. I’ll be cleaning the tables and the microwaves.” You hurry out of his sight, grabbing the bucket prepared by your colleague to rush toward the eating area.

Yugyeom chuckles, shaking his head slowly as he sees you awkwardly walk. You’re really too adorable.

The eating area is greasy. It’s been like this for as long as you can remember. You’ve cleaned the high tables so many times but they always become thick with noodle juice and other snacks. You don’t like that task, but it’s better than staying around Yugyeom, who seems to be singing softly as he wipes the floor.

He sounds so happy.

It’s hard to act like he isn’t here. You see him from time to time, walking between the aisle and sighing because the mop is visibly too tiny for his body. He keeps on a concentrated face and sends a couple of smiles your way whenever he catches your eyes.

By the time you’re done cleaning, he seems to be talking to customers. You put the bucket back in its place and go to the counter in case someone would want to pay for their-

Yugyeomie!

Before you can see them, two familiar voices echo in the shop, thick with honey. You should have known they would come back with their hands full of food for Yugyeom.

The latter appears, bowing endlessly and thanking two ladies who are eagerly following him and laughing.

Yugyeom is literally about to die from a huge piece of cake and whipped cream is smudged around his mouth. You raise your brow when he almost hides behind you, coughing and red with embarrassment.

“Oh my, we gave you too much! Can’t you see he feels uncomfortable?!” One of the lady tells you aggressively, her manicured finger pointing toward you in an accusing manner.

You turn around when Yugyeom takes your arm and you see him shake his head. He looks even more alerted now, cheeks full and mouth barely closed.

Usually you would have blamed him for being so mushy and you would have been right. He had been too nice with these two, always accepting the presents and getting fed. Now he can barely run away from them.

So against better judgement and as soon as the second lady adds a venomous “Well aren’t you going to move?” you turn around, hands on your hips.

“You shouldn’t disturb the employees. He is working and he has no time to deal with you. If our manager ever discovers what happens when he isn’t here, are you going to take responsibility for your actions? You’re not only monopolising his time but also mine right now.” You say angrily and go to the staff-room to grab your own water bottle.

When you come back, Yugyeom is still bowing at the ladies who look shocked and embarrassed. It seems he has finally swallowed the piece of cake because he is apologising endlessly. 

You silently hand him the bottle before walking away. You’re not in the mood to deal with these two and you can’t even trust your own mouth anymore. Why did you even have to speak? If they complain to the manager, you’re never going to hear the end of it.

You let your head fall against a bag a bread, eyes closed in regret and scolding yourself silently.

“We shouldn’t have…you won’t lose your job, right?” You hear one of the lady, her voice now tender as she is still trying to sound innocent.

“No it’s fine. Please just don’t talk to my noona like that.”

You blink, head still deep in the soft bags as you hear the words, barely muffled and incredibly satisfying to hear from a determined Yugyeom.

A long silence follows during which you don’t know what to do with your body. You hear noises, the sound of the cash machine and a curt greeting before the place becomes quiet again.

You wait for a sound, anything that would indicate a moving Yugyeom but nothing happens so you peek a moment later, head appearing between the food.

Yugyeom is sitting. He looks incredibly disturbed and while you should be too, you can only focus on the whipped cream on his face.

Did he really try to be serious when he has pieces of cake on his face?

You walk from behind the aisle and Yugyeom gets up as soon as you appear, already bowing and apologising because oh god you’re going to get mad at him because of the two old ladies and he shouldn’t have been so nice with them-

“Sit down.” You tell him, trying to hide the amusement from your voice.

Yugyeom gulps, gawking as he takes a step toward the chair to rest on it.

You grab a forgotten pack of tissue left behind the counter and open it, shaking your head. He watches your every move, curious and uneasy.

You turn around with the tissue and approach him, making him back up further away from you.

He waits, blinks, but freezes when your hand grabs his chin to clean the mess left around his mouth.

“You would look way more serious if you didn’t have so much whipped cream on your cheeks.” You speak, determined not to look at him in the eyes.  Which is good because Yugyeom is dying inside, face burning and hands moist with stress.

You clean the mess rapidly, fingers grazing over his reddening skin and it’s hard not to think about how adorable he looks. You try to stay away from his body, the warmth and delicate scent a tad too tempting to be too close to.

He sighs, his breath fanning your face. “Thanks, noona.”

You barely smirk when you’re done – and it feels like you spent forever on his face when it barely lasted ten seconds – before proceeding to throw the tissue away.

“I’m sorry. They were very rude,” He adds when you don’t speak. He searches for your face and when he finally gets your attention, a sheepish smile appears on his still reddish cheeks. “I made sure they won’t speak that way anymore.”

My noona.

You nod, his words echoing in your head and making you pinch your lips so you wouldn’t laugh. It’s so satisfying all of a sudden.

You knew Yugyeom could be adorable. He proved it to you numerous times but never did you pay attention to his features, too busy being cold and ignoring him.

But you’re starting to think differently and you’re not even bothered by that fact.  “It’s fine, Yugyeom.” You whisper, bowing when a bunch of people enter the shop. You turn around briefly when the customers walk deeper in the shop. “Thank you for standing up for your noona.”

Yugyeom wants to disappear into the ground.

“You are disgusting.” Jinyoung refuses to believe such a thing happened. “You really said something like that?” Yugyeom has always been a weird kid, but he is starting to wonder if he’ll ever make it with his strange behaviour.

“I did. I don’t know why. I almost choked on a piece of cake, I guess I felt brave.” Yugyeom sighs, head on Jinyoung’s kitchen table as the latter is sipping on his coffee.

Bambam enters the kitchen, putting his phone back into his pocket. “You’re creepy.” He concludes, sitting next to a depressed Yugyeom.

Yugyeom nods against the cold material, lips into a pout.

“Anyways, it’s not the end of the world, did you try to get some sort of conversation out of her?” Jinyoung adds. His legs are crossed and he is leaning against the table. “Another date? Anything?”

“Obviously, he didn’t.” Bambam concludes when his friend doesn’t move.

“Stop asking so much from me. I already asked her once. Let me live.” He grunts as he sits back on his chair, arms now crossed over his chest.

Yugyeom doesn’t even pay attention when his phone vibrates in his pocket and his hand blindly reaches for it as Bambam is now telling him how he must attack the girl before it’s too late.

“He needs to be subtle. Don’t turn him into an even creepier guy.” Jinyoung softly kicks Bambam’s leg playfully. “By the way, who’s free this week-end? There’s this-

Yugyeom’s screeching makes them both jump on their seats. The latter’s mouth is wide opened and a hand is hiding his face.

“She’s...she’s...her place? HER PLACE?!”

Bambam sighs, leaning to grab the phone from a protesting Yugyeom.

“Ohoh,” he starts, eyebrows raising teasingly. “She wants to thank you for the other night and cook for you.” He finishes the message and lets an evil laugh leave his thick lips. “at her place. Bingo.”

Jinyoung claps his hands, a little bit surprised but still amused. “Now you know what to do.”

Yugyeom gasps, “What to do? What do I do?”

“You agree, you get prepared and you get that girl. Jeez, Yugs, don’t you know it’s jackpot when a girl invites someone to her place?” Bambam tells him, way too excited by the situation.

Yugyeom tilts his head, not getting where this is going. They can’t possibly be talking about that.

No, no no no.

Jinyoung rolls his eyes as his stupid friends. “Just go there and try not to mess things up and you,” he points at Bambam accusingly, “stop trying to make him jump the poor girl.”

Bambam pouts “Yep, sir.”

“Why did I do that. What do I do now? What if he doesn’t answer? Tonight? Why tonight? Naya, tell me I didn’t just sent that message.” It’s panic time. Naya came over after work and decided to hype you, resulting in you typing a very embarrassing message and sending it to Yugyeom.

“It’s a great message. You said you’ll pay for the food next time and what’s better than cook yourself? You live alone and you feel more comfortable at home, it’s a great opportunity. Plus, I doubt the kid is a creep who will jump you.” Naya plays with her spoon, making it cling against a creamy coffee cup. “If he agrees, we need to get you some groceries.”

“He is going to think I’m a weirdo. I can’t believe I spent so much time giving him the cold shoulder, only to end up sending such a pathetic message.” You start rubbing your face tiredly, wondering when on earth did you stop being so adamant.

When your phone tingles on the table, Naya doesn’t need to see what’s written.

Your bewildered face says it all.

She is incredibly fast when she hurries you out of your flat. She starts throwing ideas on what you could cook and what alcohol you should buy. Your friend flies toward ingredients, asking for your opinion and you end up with too many things to buy and an expensive bill.

“I can’t believe you’ve been working with him for so long yet you don’t know what he likes.” Naya mocks when you both get out of the busy place, hands full with bags and head full with regrets.

“It’s not like I ever paid attention to him. It’s all because of you.” You complain, face unreadable as you walk toward your apartment complex.

Naya scoffs, her head shaking. “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy the situation. You’re just scared because you have zero confidence. He likes you and you’re starting to like him too. It’s fine! There’s no need to be ashamed.”

“But he’s-

“He is younger than you? Like age matters when it comes to maturity. We both know age means nothing. Men will be boys all their lives.” Her laugh makes you want to hit her with your own bags but you decide to keep quiet.

Mostly because she is right, but you won’t admit it.

This is exactly how you end up cooking for Yugyeom. You’re busy with your pasta, one hand holding your wooden spoon and the other one your phone, checking out cooking tips and nodding at specific advices.

The table is set without it being too much – the mere idea of looking eager and desperate enough for you to cringe – and the wine is ready.

You remove your apron to look at your outfit, hands pulling on your shirt as a deep sigh leaves your lips in apprehension. Your heart is about to burst out of your chest and you’re quite sure you’re going to throw up.

You take a deep breath when your doorbell rings.

Everything’s going to be okay.

When you open the door and find an already blushing Yugyeom, you’re not so sure of yourself anymore.

He looks too handsome to be standing by your door, with a curious face and a single orchid in his hand.

He cannot be serious.

“Hi, noona.” He waves timidly, trying to find a way to stand without looking awfully awkward.

You blink at the flower, completely ignoring his words before tilting your head. It can’t be because-

“Oh, it’s for you.” Yugyeom hands you the flower hurriedly, eager to get rid of the silence and hoping you’d let him enter your flat soon because he can’t trust his knees tonight. “I heard you say Orchids were your favourite.”

You open your mouth, shocked and astonished because you remember saying this once to your manager when he asked you which flowers would be the best to beg for forgiveness.

Yugyeom was there that day? You don’t even remember yet he heard it and got you your favourite flower.

“Noona…?” Yugyeom leans, the flower still in his hand and it makes you go back to your senses to grab the flower before coughing.

“Thanks, Yugyeom. Come on in.”

You open the door wider to let him step into your flat and as he smiles sweetly and bows, you want to slap yourself for being so mean to him all this time.

“It smells good.” The younger states when he walks deeper into your flat. You follow slowly, now too conscious of your surroundings and hoping you cleaned the flat thoroughly so he wouldn’t discover how much of a messy person you can be.

“Thank you. I made pasta. Is that okay for you? There’s also wine…” You put the flower on your kitchen counter and grab an empty glass before turning around.

Yugyeom is looking at your flat with shiny eyes, like he achieved something big. He spins around and finds you waiting for him with an empty glass. “Oh, yes. I like wine.”

It takes two hours for the atmosphere to cool down. Yugyeom is stiff on your couch, his long legs resting on your carpet as he slowly sips on his third glass of wine. You’re on the floor, legs crossed and elbow on your living-room’s table as you’re digesting the huge amount of pasta you swallowed so you wouldn’t have to speak too much.

“Your place is warm.” Yugyeom says do fill the silence.

You laugh tiredly, not finding it in yourself to tell him that your flat is actually as lifeless as you. “It’s a pain apartment.”

Yugyeom shakes his head, the alcohol making him somewhat more daring. “It’s the place where you live.”

You don’t know what to answer. Despite your awkwardness, Yugyeom has been having a dreamy face ever since he arrived and looked nothing but amazed to be here. It’s difficult to deal with such a personality for you only know a few people and most of them aren’t like him.

People like Yugyeom scare you to the point of avoiding them and as he looks down at your tired face, you understand instantly the reason behind your past hatred and coldness.

Yugyeom is willing to accept you without asking anything in return.

“I have no confidence.” You start when weakness takes over you. He needs to understand your struggles in case you become weird again. He doesn’t deserve to be treated like garbage just because you can’t stand yourself. “I don’t know how to deal with my life. I’ve always been around people who despise the fact that I have no ambition and I guess I accept it now? It became normal to be considered like a loser because I do believe I am one.”

Yugyeom is about to protest but you lift a hand to stop him.

“But you’re making it hard for me to keep on hating myself. I don’t even know how you remembered I like Orchids. You’re always nice and gentle. I don’t know how to interact with people like you.”

Yugyeom feels himself sitting straight when you’re done. He can’t believe what he is hearing and he is torn between sadness and anger because how the hell did you end up feeling that way when he finds you amazing and strong and independent? He wants to shake you so you would understand, but he knows it’s the wine and he will regret being such a pushover.

Yet you’re on the floor and looking at him expectantly. He sees honesty and a hint of sadness you had never showed him before and even though it breaks him, he must smile.

“I remember every important thing. You like Orchids. You said you hate milk to our manager when he brought you a latte last month. You hate spicy food and one time you bought the wrong cup of ramen and your face became all red. Your favourite snacks are shrimp flavoured chips and strawberry yoghurt. You hate cleaning the microwaves but you still do.”

Each sentence swallows you to the ground, like Yugyeom is putting weights on your shoulders. He knows a lot of things about you just because he cares enough to remember.

Yet you know nothing about him.

“You didn’t really like me.”

He ends the sentence with a sad smile, not even mad because at some point, there’s nothing he can do.

You protest instantly, your voice dying in the process. “That’s not- I mean, you know so much, yet I know only a little, if not nothing about you. I never asked nor paid attention.”

You feel guilty, incredibly guilty for being that way. You feel like the worst bitch.

But Yugyeom laughs before putting his glass on the table. “It’s fine, noona. I’m not saying this because I want to make you feel bad. I’m not asking of you to know everything about me.”

You can’t believe it.

“Why?” It’s the only thing that comes to your mind. You’re not sure if you want to know the answer, though.

“Why?” Yugyeom repeats, head tilted to the side like he is surprised you still didn’t get it. Under any other circumstances he would have freaked out and ran away, but now he is starting to like the effect wine has on him.  Maybe he will let it all out tonight.

“It’s definitely not because I am trying to be a good colleague.” His eyes go from the table to your face, just to be sure he isn’t about to embarrass himself more than he already did.

“I’m in love with you, noona. I’m sorry you had to deal with the annoying me all this time.”

It’s weird, Yugyeom thinks as he finishes his sentence. The evening had started well; you had talked about your parents and how busy they were. He had shared pieces of his childhood and you had laughed. You two had exchanged jokes in the middle of the general awkwardness and he had loved the food.

You’re silent now, blinking at the ground like he dropped a bomb on you. Maybe he should have shut his mouth. The boys are going to make fun of him for being so mushy and drinking to the point of turning into a creep again. He can’t wait.

Yugyeom is contemplating whether he should grab his stuff and go, he really is, but he finds himself frozen on the couch when you get up slowly.

“Noona…? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

You’re too fast for him. You’re too fast and surprising tonight, he can’t comprehend why the hell are you leaning toward him slowly. Your eyes are undecipherable yet focused.

You’re being serious. 

He stops breathing when you grab his face. It’s a mixture of excitement and fear, with a touch of confusion but everything crashes when he feels your lips on his.

Is this happening? Everything is in slow-motion, like a movie Yugyeom wouldn’t mind watching every single night.

Yugyeom finally believes it when you peck his lips. His arms come back to life and reach for your nape to bring you closer and it’s like an electric shock putting him back on track.

You’re kissing him.

The slow-motion effect disappears; his skin finally tingles and his breath gets caught in his lungs when your fingers thread through his locks to tilt his head.

It’s the best kiss in his whole damned life.

He kisses you back after what feels like an eternity and when he does, you relax in his hands, finally comfortable with the embrace. Yugyeom takes everything he can, his lips tickling and face on fire but he doesn’t care anymore.

You’re the only thing worth focusing on in the middle of nowhere.

You end up kneeling on your couch but is that important? Yugyeom won, there’s nothing you can build to stay away from him anymore. Fighting would be pointless and mean and you don’t want to be mean with him.

So if he is willing to welcome your existence, then you’ll give him just that.

You part from his face with closed eyes and red lips. Your heart is surprisingly calm despite the intimate position so you smile.

You can’t believe you initiated the kiss.

Yugyeom is already staring at you when you open your eyes and he is searching for answers. He watches, analyses your movements, waits for any sign of discomforts.

And naturally, when he finds nothing, he smiles back and pulls you toward him to kiss you again.

You stay that way for a while – though you don’t know how long – before you sit next to him, finally embarrassed for being so bold.  But unlike you, Yugyeom looks pleased.

“I know I’m younger than you and you might think I’m a kid, but I really want to be with you.” He stills tries, even though you both kissed, even though you’re holding his hand and playing with the rings on his fingers. “I want to make you feel like you are worth so much more than what you think.”

You want to melt. Correction: you’re melting.

You sit properly on your couch so you can face him. “I wish you’d do just that, Yugyeom.”

And he kisses you again.

188 notes · View notes

carrera-ffxiv · 5 years ago

Text

Welcome to Sanctum, Pt. 3 of 3

He couldn’t tell how much time had passed since his fateful encounter with his newfound friends. The friendship was short-lived. He finished washing the blood and dirt from his hands in the restroom and went back to relax on one of his couches after all the digging and dragging he had to manage by his lonesome till the sun came up. A few puffs of a pipe and a small break was what he needed before he continued on his list of chores. Hadriel went about cleaning the broken decor and tossing the table out, sweeping and mopping the floor. He had his share of drinks in between tasks, it was one of the perks to owning a bar or two.

The lock unbolted and the partition was pushed aside as N’syri and Kaede walked into the establishment. “Good morning!” Hadriel greeted, uncharacteristically motivated.

Syri couldn’t help but narrow her eyes.

“You’re here early. I brought Kaede here to… help clean up, teach her a few things, and prep for opening later today. You moved some things around…” N’syri spoke.

“Yep. Felt like it needed a slight face-lift. Too cluttered. Took some things out. I think it looks better.”

“It looks beautiful, sir!” Kaede responded cheerfully, matching his energy.

“Just Hadriel is fine.” he responded.

Syri seemed suspicious of the whole situation and looked about the place, nit-picking everything with a careful and discerning eye. “You have some dirt on your face.”

“Stuffed three barrels with cabbage and red pepper paste real early this morning. Buried them out back to let them ferment. Goes well with a variety of dishes.”

“Oh, you make food here too?” Kaede asked.

“N-” Syri began before Hadriel cut her off. “I’m thinking about it. Nothing too complicated. Just some small dishes we can have ready on-hand to serve customers. Little delicacies.”

Syri knew very well that something was off. She rightfully assumed that he was out burying something else instead but didn’t press any further in the presence of their new employee.

“You look beautiful in that yukata. You look like the very reason men fall in love.” he said with a smirk.

Kaede blushed and smiled. To her, Hadriel was a friendly sort and seemed to make the comment lightheartedly as if to keep her in a cheery mood. “Thank you.”

The late morning seemed to go by quickly for him as he was still exhausted from being up a good portion of the night and toiling into the morning. His attention span was cutting in and out but he tried his best to make his new employee feel welcome, talking to her, and sharing a laugh or two with Syri glaring off from the side wondering what he was up to.

Eventually a couple customers wander in the early afternoon and they decide to let Kaede take the reigns after they had gone over etiquette and the drink menu with her. Finally, Syri had a chance to speak with him alone at the opposite end of the establishment.

“So. What really happened?” she asked in a hushed and solemn voice.

He laughed lightly, “I was really burying some barrels.”

She didn’t skip a beat and followed up, “What was in the barrels? And stop being so cheery, it’s creepy.”

Hadriel was out of energy and decided to drop the facade. “Some old friends came by. Now they’re taking dirt-naps. In barrels.”

“Hadriel… this is serious…”

“So am I. It was a matter of time.”

“I told you we should use pseudonyms. I shouldn’t have left you alone last night after I saw the feather.”

“I’m not hiding. I’m in plain sight and don’t plan on changing that. Besides, part of me thought they assumed I changed names and went off grid. Anyway, it’s all part of the plan, don’t worry.”

“Plan? What plan?” her voice raised a moment causing the guests to look over a moment.

“They’re fools if they come after me with everything I know about them.” he responded in a hushed tone.

“But they just did. Isn’t that exactly why they came here, to silence you?” she mirrored him and lowered her voice again to barely above a whisper.

“Not exactly.” he lit a pipe. “I’ll be back tonight. I’m gonna go take a nap. Don’t be so on edge. Everything’s fine.”

“Fine? Do you think this girl is going to be safe working here now? What about S’mira? Didn’t you ask her to help out? Are you fine with putting them in harm’s way like this?” Syri chastised.

“They wanted me back. Either that or to leave with my eye. They’re not after her. This isn’t one of those fantasy books where the bad guys take hostages to try to get the good guy to give up. There’s no moral high ground between me and the Black Blades. We’re all bad guys. And as far as hostages go, what would stop me from killing them after they kill the hostage? And why would anyone ever give up just because someone is captured? It’s not a good tactic all around. Besides, it’s not how they work.”

“I thought that the eye was just an inherited aspect of your half-Eorzean lineage… why would they want it? You fed me some garbage about hiding it because you were made fun of as a kid.”

"It’s a mark for those who run the organization… it’s uh… treatment of sorts. An experiment, rather.” he revealed.

She simply nodded lightly with an irate look in her stare as if to tell him to carry on with the explanation.

“It’s research stolen from Garlemald. An invasive surgical procedure that involves more than I care to explain and a lot of pain to go along with it. Thanks to that, we can see the flow of aether in someone’s body.”

“... doesn’t sound useful against imperial troops… they can’t manipulate aether… isn’t that why your organization was founded? For clandestine missions or fights against Garleans?”

“They can’t manipulate aether, like you said. Doesn’t mean they don’t have aether. They’re living beings and whether they can control it or not it’s intrinsic to life. But the point was- seeing the flow of aether gave us a better edge in a great many aspects. Some have even said that they can tell if a person is lying by reading them. Anyway, there’s only a handful of us with this and it’s kept from even others in the organization, for those few who know what it is, it’s a telltale sign. That’s why I keep it behind this.” he tapped alongside his eyepatch. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Hmn…” Syri paused a moment to take it all in. She glanced over to Kaede who was entertaining their guests, smiling and laughing. Seemingly lost in thought for a while something broke her out of her contemplation. There was something earnest about the girl’s efforts and intentions, yet there was something Syri couldn’t quite put her finger on that bothered her. Something off.

“Well, as for why the Black Blades were founded… they’ve fallen far from their days as avengers and patriots of Doma. Now they’re murderers and criminals running in the shadow as an organized crime family. Getting ‘protection’ fees from the merchants, moving contraband, bribing the authorities, silencing people for money… all the good stuff.”

“Is that part of the reason why you left?” she whispered.

“No. You know the reason. I had people to look for. An untrackable quarry to find. For both our sakes. That man has wronged us both, betrayed our hometown as well as all of Doma. That was the only reason. The council I was on didn’t want to condone or support my personal vendetta. Not good for business. So I left. We were after the same person, it was like the kami were lighting the path forward. Like I said, I don’t pretend to stand on some morality or principle. Those are empty pretences that I can hardly afford.”

“The girl.” she said, looking at Kaede and spoke hurriedly. “She came here the same day this happened.”

“It wasn’t her. She wasn’t the one who drew them here. And her mother really is sick.”

A cynical look wore about her visage, “And how would you know? You never even made it very far from the bar since you met her.”

He subtly winked at her with his only visible eye. Or was it simply a blink when there was one eye? She could never tell.

“Anyway. Like I told you. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it. I’ll ship the pieces of their friends back and then I’ll meet with a few of my old friends to settle this. For now, I’m going to get some sleep.”

“Mn.” Syri sounded. “Well, I’ll keep an eye here for a while. If I’m not around I’m probably reaching out to some contacts this evening.”

“I told you everything’s fine.”

“You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t categorize you burying three people out back as ‘fine’. I’ll be doing my due diligence regardless. Thank-you-very-much.”

“It’s your choice. You’re just wasting your time.” he said as he got up and casually wave two fingers, “I’ll be back later.”

Hadriel didn’t remember his trip home and practically collapsed in his residence. When his consciousness finally stirred, the moon’s light peeked through the windows in his home. Again, he would slip into a lucid sleep and dream the same dream that always came.

“I missed you…” His dry voice sounded.

She laughed lightly, the warmth of her smile filling the air around him as if the sun itself dared to give him a moment of reprieve from the loneliness clutching at his heart. A smile cracked from his lips.

“You missed me? How could you miss me when I’ve been here this whole time?” she responded with the sweetest voice, a soft tone dripping with honey in a sweet and rhythmic manner. She spoke lightheartedly, gazing at him with a beaming smile.

The kind beauty continued, “I didn’t miss you, because you’re always here…” she softly rested a hand on her chest- motioning to her heart, “…but!” she excitedly stated, “You know who did miss you?” she asked excitedly.

“Papa~!” the girl ran to give him a hug. He would reciprocate the tight embrace. The warmth filled his heart for a moment even as dread crept up close behind knowing the dream would be over soon again, “Papa. Don’t do it… please. Don’t go where we can’t follow.” she whispered.

He jolted awake and shot up on his couch. It was later than expected. He shook his head to regain some semblance of his bearings. She was warning him. She knew what he was about to do. But how was this worse than any of the other things he’s done?

Hadriel heaved a sigh as he reached for a kodachi sitting in its stand. He slowly sheaths one after the other and placed them both on his hip. He stepped out into the brisk air as light rain trickled down his hair. He took a moment to listen to the sound of raindrops fill the air all around him. A frosty breath escaped his lips as he took some measure of relief from the rain.

He walked in and noticed everyone had cleared out for the night, save Kaede and one older man sitting by the bar.

“Welcome to Sanctum.” Kaede sounded in a sing-songy tone. “Oh it’s you Mr. Hadriel. Come have a seat!”

“I told you, just Hadriel is fine.” he said with a smile as he sat at the counter. “I’ll have a-”

“Whiskey, neat.” she said while placing a glass in front of him.

“Noticed that, huh?” he gave a light chuckle.

“It’s late. Let’s close down soon, have one with me.” Hadriel said in a tired voice.

“I haven’t drank whiskey before… but I’m willing to give it a try.” she said in a cheery attitude.

“I’ll pour one for you, lock the door so we don’t have early morning stragglers trying to come in.”

She bowed with a measure of grace and elegance undoubtedly learned from N’syri, a slight bend of the knees as her hand folded across her waist, her head dipping respectfully. She meandered along the bar and furniture over to the door and did as was asked.

“You don’t mind if I stay just a little while longer, do you young man?” a gruff voice sounded. The lighting was dim, just the way Hadriel liked it so it was a tad hard to make out features. He seemed dressed in plain Doman attire, not exactly the typical clientele for the new establishment.

“Of course not. Do me a favor though, look to the corner there just behind the counter, there’s a box of cigars. If you wouldn’t mind grabbing a couple out of there for me?”

“Oh, of course, son.” the man had to reach over a bit and look for the box but succeeded in the task, moving beside Hadriel and holding one out for him. He took both in hand and drew a cutter out of his pocket to snip the ends.

“Other one’s yours of course.” he said, motioning for the man still standing there to take a seat next to him.

“Thank you, thank you. Forgive my forwardness, you seem a bit young to own such a nice place. And a nice place it is!”

“I guess I’m a bit older than I look.” he said with a smirk.

The man takes a look at Hadriel’s drink, paused and then turned his visage back to him. “Drink and a cigar. End of a good day? Celebrating something?”

“Yeah… it’s a bit of a celebration…” he struck a match and the audible sizzle of the burning calmed and its intensity died down. He held it for the old man who appreciated the gesture and lit the expensive-tasting cigar.

“Thank you.” the man replied.

“You’re welcome. Maybe I look a bit younger than I am. Saved up a lot of money doing a lot of different jobs. Easy to do when you don’t have family to worry about.” he looked over to the man.

“Oh. To each their own, son. It’s clearly worked well for you. What are you celebrating then? Newly opened establishment?”

“No. It’s been a long journey. I finally found what I’m looking for.” he said, lighting his own cigar and sighing. The man paused again.

Kaede smiled and held her drink up. “Making fast friends I see! Cheers, Mr. Hadriel, to friends!”

A solemn look overcame him, almost saddened, and Kaede paused. It seemed like the other two were holding their breath a moment. Both seemed to be waiting for the other to drink before he finally relented, took a few gulps and set the glass down, her mirroring his actions.

“To family...” he mentioned in a somber tone, his expression was filled with a quiet reflection. “How is your mother, Kaede?”

She was taken aback by the unexpected question.

“Not well…” she replied in a low tone. She fidgeted with her hair and took another sip of her drink.

“Well. She’ll be fine soon enough, I’m sure.” the old man injected himself into the conversation. “She’s just as strong as her daughter after all.”

“Thank you, papa.” Kaede responded.

Hadriel continued to smoke and leaned on the counter.

“I guess I’m sorry I had to ruin your celebration, young man. But… I couldn’t let you kill me.” he placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “Now that you drank that poison, you don’t have much time so I wanted to tell you why.”

“You don’t have to tell me why Futoshi. I know why.” Hadriel responded.

“Well, indulge an old man, would you? I know I deserve what you want to do to me, and there’s been so… so many times I would have welcomed it. But… I have my daughter to look after. I want to give her away one day to a home of her own. My wife is frail and needs me. I can’t abandon them.”

“Selfish desires from a selfish man who betrayed his countrymen for gold.”

“You might not understand, Hadriel, but I did it for my family. I’ve regretted it every day of my life. But I’ve found the resolve to live. Which is why I sent Kaede here to get us to this point. I was hoping tipping off the Black Blades would’ve been the end of it but… I always have a plan B.”

Kaede seemed to turn pale, a level of remorse wore on her expression, “I’m sorry, sir…”

“Yeah. Me too…” he uttered softly before putting the cigar out. He poured another glass for himself and took another sip.

“We’ll see that you a proper burial back home in Yangxia-”

Kaede collapsed on the ground as her mouth foamed. Not long after, convulsions began to take place. Wide-eyed, Futoshi stood with his hands on the counter to look down in horror at what was happening to his daughter. He was in shock and couldn’t feel his hand pinned down to the bar, only noticing it when he couldn’t move to his child. A kodachi had made itself a new home through his palm and the bar counter.

“I had a daughter once. And a wife too. I understand why you did what you did. But you chose this path. How many mothers and daughters lost their lives? And again, during the uprising? Then again, over the years. You took my family. Countless families. Then you ran. Across Doma, across the seas, across Eorzea and back again. An untrackable quarry. You took everything I had.”

“H-how…!?” the man held onto his wrist, fumbling through words as tears streamed down his face, almost whimpering at the fact that he was too helpless to save his daughter. “M-my wife, if we die, she has no one to take care of her!”

Hadriel almost looked saddened by the course of events. “Well. I guess I’m sorry I had to ruin your celebration, old man. But… I couldn’t let you kill me.” he placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “Now that you don’t have much time to live, I wanted to tell you why: As you took my wife and daughter, so... in turn... I take yours.” he spoke grimly, not a hint of solace could be found in his expression.

Hadriel continued in a low tone, speaking almost to himself, “I was afraid of myself. What I would do to you, but you made it so easy to want to kill you. Everyone that was in your regiment, your comrades, your friends... you had none left. I saw to that personally, so... you could only trust your family to something this important. So you sent her to me. The Blades were always keeping an eye out for me. I figured I’d use you to bait them in. Now I get to send them a message.”

Futoshi winced in pain but after hearing Hadriel speak he seemed to have resigned himself, and continued listening. His head dipped as he let regret take a hold of him. Slowly, he let the calm of surrender engulf him. There was no more need to run anymore. He could find solace in that.

“With no one else to rely on you sent the only person you could trust into the maws of the wolf. Your own kin. How selfish of you... of course she would want to help save her father, her family. You were too busy grabbing this…” he motioned to the ashtray, “... to notice I swapped the drinks. She had prepared the drink for me before I even walked in here... you told me you were sorry. I’m not. Not really. I just wish the story had a slightly different ending, is all.”

“Yeah… me too. For what it’s worth, I never meant for your family… for any of this to happen…” he shook his head with a grimace, “Do you… do you think the kami will forgive us for what we’ve done?”

“No.” Hadriel answered, sliding the rest of Kaede’s drink to the man. “Not men like us.” He raised his glass to the man.

He simply smiled and nodded, “No… I suppose not. Not men like us.” A clink echoed in the quiet, cold bar. “Thanks for the drink.”

4 notes · View notes

slasherkisss · 6 years ago

Photo

Cabin Fever - Jason Voorhees x Reader [Chapter 1]

Summary In an effort to remove yourself from your previous life in the big city, you move to Crystal Lake. The cabin you had inherited from your father makes the perfect place for a fresh start, however, there is a secret in these woods (and within yourself) that you must come to accept...and to love.

A/N My first chapter of a Jason story that’s been weighing heavily on my mind as of late. Also a sort of ‘writing christening’ to this new blog! I’ll hopefully be updating this as I go/in between asks. I hope you all enjoy it! This first chapter is mostly exposition, but, set up is necessary for stories at times don’t you think?

You had visited the cabin up at Crystal Lake with your father every winter for as long as you could remember. Despite it belonging to his employer up until the most recent months, it felt like home. The smell of moss and freshly chopped wood made your senses more at ease than the scent of smog and churning machinery. Most of your days were spent tending to the cabin’s upkeep as well as the maintenance of the garden in its backyard. You feel selfish and, perhaps, a bit egotistical in admitting that you had always known that it would find its way into your possession one way or another.

You feel less remorseful than you should, though, in knowing that it took two deaths for you to be able to receive it.

The first was the original owner of the cabin. Your father’s boss had always been a man of delicate emotional standing. After his wife had fallen ill and decided it better to take control of her own life by driving her car off of a cliff, he had tried his hardest to move on and continue with the job turned duty of living to carry on her memory. It was your father who had originally suspected that the man would not last longer than a year. Grimly, you could only agree with him and wait. When both of you were proven right, you were surprised again to see that the cabin had been left to your father in the other man’s will, calling him a brother amongst employees and thanking him for his support in trying times. That had been the first and only time you had seen your father cry. Tears of emotion like runs of rain etched in canvas lining down his face. The sight had made you cry too.

When your father died you had also expected this, but, that did not make it any less heart wrenching. The blood cancer that had plagued him for the later years of his life caught up to him in one fell swoop, sending him to a hospital where he died not days later. You couldn’t remember crying as hard as you did in the hospital room that night when the doctor’s pronounced him officially dead. You still had his obituary report tucked away in the pages of a sketchbook, taped against a canvas of nightmare doodles and eldritch terrors. The knowledge of his death was painful. You had felt your heart rip in two pieces that night, but, it was also eye opening. To therapists, perhaps, it was eye-opening in the worst kind of ways but you had no interest in sharing your emotions with anyone regardless of if your family thought it was a good idea or not.

Life was limited. You would die and, should you dare love anyone as much as you loved your father, they would die too.

You had no choice but to live with your mother and stepfather after the passing of your father, too poor to afford rent or fuel to drive anywhere too far away, you found yourself trapped in a house that only served to further your isolation into yourself. Though your mother tried to encourage you to go out and see friends, perhaps even a therapist, you never did so. Your stepfather encouraged natural medications and herbs, pumping your body with teas and vitamins he imported from one part of the country or another, but you always hid them away instead of taking them like he told you to.

Fights were more common than not. They would argue you with you, plead with you, to pull your head from the clouds. Your warped ideas of life and death ate away at you like a parasite, disconnecting you from reality. It shone in your job as you talked to customers in a monotone voice and shared no smiles or bouts of stories and laughter as you did when you first started. Your managers called you into the office and gave you multiple warnings, letting it go at first as grief for losing such a close family member so suddenly. Whatever friends you had before the funeral were gone now, pushed to the side in the window of unread messages and missed calls. You had disconnected your phone completely at some point, though, you couldn’t quite remember just when.

There was that too. The fogginess of your memory as every day was spent in a stupor of disconnected, warped, and malfunctioning reality. The world was never the right shade of blues or blacks. Ceiling fans swung too fast. You were afraid they would fly off the hinges and decapitate you. Food became unnatural poison that you never trusted unless you bought the ingredients and cooked it for yourself. Your stepfather’s insistences to take the vitamins he offered you became threats of poison if you did not stay in your room though the words he mouthed and the words in your head never seemed to quite match up. The world of the city you lived in became too fast-paced. Too overwhelming. The noise of airplanes flying overhead or cars in the nearby freeway zooming by gave you anxiety. Your heart ached at the mere idea of stepping food out into a world where there was nothing but noise.

It was when you were searching through old pictures of you and your father that you remembered the cabin. You remembered your technical ownership of it now and, with a joyous leap of hope in your heart, you remembered the quiet and self sustaining style that you and your father lived in every winter.

Saving up for the trip from your bustling city home was manageable enough, but, it was the leaving that was the hardest part. Suitcases in the car and last bag wrapped firmly in your whitening knuckles, you could still register the screaming sobs of your mother as you left the home you all shared.

“Running from your life won’t help you, [Y/N]!”

“You’re only going to get worse if you keep this up!”

“Please come back inside, you’re scaring me!”

“[Y/N]!”

You left without heading her warnings, rage bubbling inside of you of her view of the situation. She saw it as running away from your problems. Fleeing your life to hide like a sick dog and lick your wounds until death. You saw nothing of the sort. This trip, this move, wasn’t an escape attempt. It was a chance to start over. To live far away from where things happened and return to a world where you were happier, where memories were yet to be made, and where you could control your own life and the things you truly wanted.

It was a reset period. A well needed one. A chance to travel back into the memories you had built with your father, to properly mourn him through reconnecting in the one place you felt alive. To be safe in a world where you were in control for once and not the outside forces of cities and parents who did not understand why you were how you were. Once you mourned, then, you would have a world where no one would know or remember you. You could be the you that you wanted to be in a place where no one had any previous knowledge of your behavior.

It was perfect.

A heavy thunk echoed, breaking you from the silent flashback you had momentarily experienced. You turned around, cradling the last box of items you had within the moving van that had brought you out there. The man who had driven the van and helped you unload several of your things into the house before you was staring back at you with a frown bristling against his lips. You chose to ignore it, however, and offer him a smile in return despite the uneasiness he caused within you. “Thank you for the help with the heavier things,” You murmured as politely as you could, “Would you like to come in for a drink before you head out? It’ll be cold out there soon and I’m sure I know which box my kettle is in.”

The joke you attempted did not make him laugh. Instead you watched as he stepped backwards towards his truck, head shaking as he declined your offer.

“No ma’am,” His voice was low as he dared gaze around the rest of the woods warningly, “I don’t want to stay in these woods longer than I have to...they say they’re haunted, you know. A young woman like yourself really shouldn’t be left alone in them...Who knows what could lurk around here.”

You could only laugh, the voice he was using a clear warning. A gentle plead to get you to return to the safety of civilization. A foolish sort of mantra from a tongue that didn’t understand the ways of the forest and, thus, fell on the deaf ears of a woman intent on proving a point. Your fingers gripped tighter on the box, shifting it in your hands to keep the steady hold as your head tilted to the side ever so slightly, skewing his personage horizontally by only the slightest of degrees.

“I’m sure whatever is out here,” You responded with a sharp shutdown of his request, “I can handle it just fine on my own.”

“Well,” He chuckled after a few moments of silence, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, miss.”

“Have a safe drive.”

With those last four words you turned sharply on the heels of your feet, bangs brushing against your forehead while you moved forward. You refused to look back as the sound of the truck roaring to life echoed against your spine. As you felt the rumble in the soil to when it left, dissipating from the area and leaving you, again, in the familiar silence of the autumn woods. You took in a deep breath, smelling the moss and decay that had just begun to overcome the wet lakeside soil.

It smelled like a fresh start.

You hurried inside as the wind picked up, placing the final box in your living room and beginning to unpack the necessities for the night. Luckily, your father’s friend had left it furnished upon his death. The only things you had to bring were small. Utensils and electronics for the kitchen. A few pictures and decorations you could not part without. You had left your television and computer behind, disinterested in keeping in contact with those from your past life. Instead you substitute the boxes they would have taken up with books. Piles of books that would garner their own line of bookshelves both downstairs in the living room and up in your bedside dresser. You would wait to unpack them, just as you would have to wait until spring to purchase any sort of gardening implements and seeds for the backyard. There was a silent thanks that echoed in your mind to the past you for remembering to stock up on canned goods and non perishable foodstuffs, as they seemed to be what you were going to mark your survival upon for the next several months.

The unpacking went on well into the beginning of the sunset, oranges bathing the entirety of the cabin through the thin glass windows as signal for you to cease in your movements. Your own humming and gentle melodies had given you comfort as you unpacked your belongings. As you finally decided to stop for the night, pleased with the progress you had made on the living room decorations, you decided a quick dinner would be a good way to celebrate your move into the home. You placed your tea kettle on the stovetop after filling it up with the sink at its side, preparing a single mug with a fished out bag of your favorite decaffeinated chai tea placed within it to serve yourself after the water had warmed.

While waiting, you stopped out onto the porch of your home, gazing out into the vast wilderness around you. From here the world was peaceful, your heart finding pace with the twittering of the birds as they faded to give rise to the cicadas of the evening. A wind bristled at the porch, blowing past you and causing you to shiver as you watched it take a few reddened leaves with it from the ground. A mental note was made somewhere in your peripheral to rake when you could. Clearing the ground now and keeping it clear would make it easier to plant things in the spring as you wanted.

A motion in the forest caught your eye.

It was a brief shift in the trees. A single change of scenery that had your head snapping upwards and staring out into the distance, eyes as wide as a does as you observed the endless surroundings of brown and orange. Paranoia held itself tight against your stomach as it always did when you had seen something from the corners of your eye. It was not the first time something had flitted there aimlessly nor would it be the last. Your mind conjured up the thoughts of the truck driver who had taken you to the isolated cabin and helped to unpack your stuff. Of the tales he had told you while riding with him and the warning he had uttered before leaving you to your own devices.

I don’t want to stay in these woods longer than I have to...they say they’re haunted, you know.

Another shift and you stared further, squinting to try and see just what was constantly bothering your eyes.

As your mind meandered to the remembrance of the tale of Jason Voorhees, who had drowned years ago in the lake so close to your own backyard, you could have sworn that you saw a figure hiding amongst the trees. He was tall, but small compared to the towering pines around you. The cedars reached to the setting sun as you watched the possible intruder, his face hidden behind a single hockey mask as your eyes met. Or, you could only assume that your eyes had met. He felt...unreal. An apparition amongst branches. Something your mind conjured up in its spare time while you were alone. Your heartbeat in your chest was deafening as you continued to stare outwards, mouth suddenly dry at the possibility of confrontation but curious to where it would lead.

The sound of your tea kettle whistling, high pitched and shrill throughout the household, snapped you from your reverie. Your head tilted back to examine the noise, acknowledging it for a moment before turning your head back to the front of the house. But, if there ever was a figure in the first place, it was gone now. The spot you had held eye contact with for so long as empty now, leaving only you and the trees alone together.

Anxiety faded to unsureness and you shook your head, dismissing it only briefly before returning to your home and shutting the kettle off in the kitchen. It was only a momentary trick of the eye, you convinced yourself over and over again with a mantra that soon fell from between your lips audibly rather than just in your head. No matter the repetition, however, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something more than just your mind, plaguing you with paranoia. It was something more, just as this forest was something more.

You sipped your tea and took a breath. Whatever it was, you were sure, that the forest would reveal it to you when it trusted you enough. Until then, you were content to wait.

#jason voorhees #friday the 13th #slasher imagine #slasher imagines #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees imagine #cabin fever series

248 notes · View notes

smelly-cassettes · 6 years ago

Text

take the risk

Archie Sutton wants to be a professional surfer. Gorillaz is a garage band that plays on the beach. Archie's infatuation with one of the members makes everything so much better. But will a little rock in the ocean halt him from achieving his dreams?

Surfer au created by @putinsstepdad

Tagging @uncamurdy bc it’s starchie

Read it on ao3 here

There’s a song for every chapter

anyways here’s some and then a cut

Chapter 1

There was two things Archie loved most in this world. Music, and surfing. Music was a regular, if not, standard answer in response to “what’s something you love?” But as for surfing, it was a different feeling. Surfing wasn’t a love, it was a must; something that kept Archie motivated and stress-free and as happy as he could be in this world.

Since he was born Archie has been in the water almost every day of his life. Okay so that’s an exaggeration, but it’s not far from the truth. School all day, beach all evening, music and sleep all night. Competitions started for Archie when he was nine years old, primarily for fun and some bragging rights of being a kid winning bronze in competitions against all of these young adults, but they got more serious and meaningful as he got older.

The air was crisp and cold when he rode and it filled his lungs and hit harshly at his drenched wetsuit to make his whole body feel like it has a layer of ice on the outside. Archie didn’t notice. All he could feel was his feet stuck to his board, the way the water kicked beneath him, the muscles in his legs keeping his balance, and the direction of his board. The only sounds was the waves crashing to the water behind him, waves hitting the shore, cheers of the crowd, and every once in a while, music playing on the beach from his favorite band.

The waves didn’t have to be big to be tough, the ocean was a ruthless being. It was calmer this evening but the ocean still rolled back and forth with its ripples of unrelenting rage. Maybe not quite that bad, yet enough to throw Archie off his board a couple times in just twenty minutes.

Archie lay on his board about fifty yards into the ocean, arms resting in the water beneath him and the side of his face pressed against the board. He was catching his breath after his last throw off and listening to the ocean below. It was like listening through a shell except Archie was actually listening to the real ocean beneath his body. It spoke to him, it sang to him, and most importantly, it told him that it was time to paddle.

There was a ripple forming behind Archie. Not huge but certainly not small, it was his perfect last chance. Archie looked back at the distance he had between him and the wave until it was perfect for him to start paddling forward and meeting up to the ripples climax point. He took one last look back as the wave caught up to him and Archie quickly placed his hands down and steadied himself up on his board, but it still wasn’t good enough. Stance, maybe enough to pass on a smaller wave, but the water was tugging beneath Archie’s feet. He attempted to bend down more and balance it out but the speed increase just made it worse and the wave completely swept the board from underneath Archie’s feet which sent him immediately into the water.

The water was warm, or at least warmer than he was in his wetsuit that was being hit with colder air. It felt like he was in space when he crashed under the water. It was a warm enveloping nothingness. Silent. Barely moving. Warm.

Archie came out of the water and whipped the hair that dripped beads of salt water down his face out of the way. A small annoyed sigh and he pulled his board to him with the string attached between it and his ankle roughly but not enough to damage the thin rope. Once retrieved Archie swiftly hopped on and took one last look back to the infinite look of the ocean. There weren’t any more waves coming worth riding, but the sun was unforgettably beautiful. Just above the horizon in it’s orange and red hues, shining on the water and leading up straight to Archie’s form. It was views like this that washed away the annoyed feelings Archie had directly previous from not getting even one successful ride.

He looked to the other side of him, to the beach that held everything else in the world. There was a chain of shops and restaurants right beside a cement path known as “the strip.” It set a little more secluded from being next to a huge city, very Venice-beach-esque with less hype but the same amount of beauty and tourists. There were plenty of shops, most not even having a fourth wall to keep open for customers.

Suddenly Archie hears a familiar beep; his watch. It was getting to the late hours of the day which meant that Archie had to go into work. Well, he had a half an hour and he was only five hundred feet away from his work so it’s not like he was in any particular time crunch. Archie slowly paddled up to shore and stood in the knee deep section of the ocean with his surfboard under his arm and looked out over the strip. The lights were turning on for the later tourists and customers to enjoy the nightly activities without the darkness. The lights illuminated the beach in front of it, later it would make the beach appear white and the ocean appear black once it transitioned into night time.

Archie moved up towards his work, a restaurant no less, called Seasides. It was a pretty nice place with a decent pay, but Archie didn’t work as much as he could. He probably only worked four or five days a week for five to six hours, and that’s on a long day. The only reason Archie works these weird hours is because he knows the manager personally, an older family friend named Michael that Archie would see walking around his house and working on the strip when he was a younger boy. He doesn’t necessarily need a ton of money, just enough for some food and gas and competition entries.

The restaurant always smelled amazing, too. Of course because it was a restaurant, but it made everybody’s mouths water down the entire strip, meaning they got a lot of customers. Archie entered work that day around seven that night, he was only working a couple hours until close. The perks of working under the table.

He walked in through the back door into the employee locker room, barefoot and drenched with salt water and sand covering his feet. The place smelled like greasy fries and it was more humid in the locker room than usual. Archie perched up his board in the corner of the room next to the coat hangers and started unzipping his wetsuit when his manager approached his locker that he was rushing to open.

“So your band is playing tonight.” Michael says to Archie while folding his arms and leaning against the side of Archie’s locker. Archie pulled the top of his wetsuit off roughly, the wetness making it hard to slip out of, as per usual.

“My band? I don’t gotta band.” Archie laughed back at him. He reached into his locker and pulled out a towel and dried off the water on his chest and hair before pulling down the rest of his suit over his legs.

“I know that, I didn’t mean your band. I meant the band you’ve been gawking over for weeks now.” Michael responded. “Gorillaz. They’re playing tonight.”

Archie stopped his movements and stared at Michael in shock for a moment.

“Gorillaz? Here? Like, in this restaurant?” Archie asked in disbelief. Michael nodded and Archie smiled in excitement. “No way, that’s sick.”

Gorillaz was an indie band that played on the beach sometimes. They transfer from bar to beach to amphitheaters in town, playing amazing music that brought life to any party they were at. They were made up of a drummer named Russ, Murdoc who was the bass player with strangely visible olive skin, a young Japanese woman that went by the nickname Noodle, and the most intriguing one in Archie’s opinion, 2D. Archie didn’t know how they weren’t world famous, they were incredible.

2D had black eyes and blue hair and went by the name “2D,” why wouldn’t Archie be intrigued? The way his deep voice filled his head and his thin form swaying in front of the microphone as he sang caught Archie’s eyes every single time. He was intoxicating.

Archie went to every one of their concerts, at least since he first saw them four months ago for his twenty first birthday at the most hyped pub near him. They were amazing, playing songs that made Archie want to jam along with them and learn every single song that they wrote.

“Thought you’d enjoy that. You wear their shirt nearly every day here.” Michael smiled jovially. Archie laughed in response and continued to dry the rest of his body off with his towel before throwing it back in his locker and hanging up his suit over his board. “Also, please stop coming in hear sopping wet. We’re beachside but we want the water to stay in the ocean.”

“Like that’ll actually happen.” Archie snickers and Michael shakes his head with a grin.

“Get ready, I want you on dishes in five.” Michael walks away with his final statement that made Archie’s stomach sink sadly. Michael knows that Gorillaz is his favorite band and he’s still putting him on dishes. Dick move.

Archie is left to dress in his work attire and mope about how he can’t watch his favorite band. He did wear his Gorillaz shirt a lot and that’d be weird if he wore it while they performed, even if he has to stay back and do dishes, there’s a chance he might get called out to serve and that’d just be weird wearing their shirt. Which means Archie is going to have to wear his back up outfit: his blue hawaiian button up with yellow flowers tucked into his jean shorts that were slightly shorter than necessary but not revealing enough to get him called a girl. Another perk of working on the beach is not having uniforms. They want to be “relatable and trendy” to the customers.

Archie’s relationship with Michael was nice, they both knew that it Michael didn’t actually care if Archie came in soaking wet and covered in sand but Michael pretended like he did, that was just how they worked together. Despite only working a maximum of thirty hours a week, Archie was a damn good worker, and a cheerful one at that. Always good with the kids and striking up quick conversations and cracking stupid jokes to keep the customers entertained, it’s one of the main reasons Archie hasn’t been fired for dragging in sand or water, it was a small price for good quality.

Archie looked in the mirror that was hanging in the back of his locker. He pulled back his hair, debating on keeping it in a bun for tonight or letting it down freely. Archie had pretty long hair, dyed electric green and cut into a mohawk, shaved completely on the sides. At this point Archie’s bright green hair was fading into a light yellow-green and his brown roots were peeking beneath along with his brown hair growing to either side of his mohawk. He really just had the mohawk to spike up for surf shows as sort of an icon for himself but at this point he just doesn’t want to go through that weird growth stage and/or shave his head for the sake of matching. He actually grew to like the mohawk, though, down or up. Gives sort of a Skrillex vibe. Also hair gel is expensive and he can’t spike it up every day.

Archie chose to leave his hair down and damp for work this time. He closed his locker, slipped on his shoes, and checked his watch. He still had two minutes before Michael would get on him to start working so Archie spent it wisely, quickly pacing over to the door that separated the locker room to the kitchen and then the kitchen to the main dining area. Seasides had a light wooden theme to it, minor industrial aspects like lights hanging from chains above booths and a metal bartop on the left side with a brick background, covered in metal shelves holding dozens of bottles of alcohol. Directly in front of him was the wall that separated the restaurant and the beach. The middle of it was wooden slider doors that opened to an outside patio that people could choose to eat on and look over the ocean. Getting a seat out on the patio took a weeks notice of reservation, it was a little crazy. To his direct right was the wall holding the small stage only about a foot off the ground and was directly symmetrically positioned at the center of the wall. There were tables surrounding it and on either side of the stage, but being back towards the left side was the real better view. On top of the stage stoof Archie’s favorite band, Gorillaz.

They were setting up for their show, extending cords and plugging in instruments and testing the sound. Archie was only about fifteen feet away from them which is the closest he’s probably ever been to any of them. It made his stomach churn and his face heat up and he couldn’t take his eyes off of them. Archie’s eyes followed from Russel, grabbing his drumsticks and sitting in his chair, to Noodle who was tuning her guitar, to Murdoc tapping at a mic, and finally to 2D. 2D was talking to Russel behind him for a minute about who knows what, but he turned back before Archie had a chance to avert his eyes and ended up making direct eye contact. Archie expected 2D to look away almost instantly but he didn’t, 2D had his eyes fixed on Archie, or so it felt.

In a way that seemed to be timed perfectly, Archie heard a voice, except it came from behind him and it made him jump.

“S’cuse me Arch, we gotta serve tables.” A short woman, his coworker Lindsay, said to Archie politely and he took one last second of a glance back at 2D before quickly retreating back into the kitchen with an apology. Maybe Archie was crazy, but he swears he saw a smile on 2D’s face before he backed away.

It took weeks between the application process and actually getting to perform at Seasides. They were probably the most popular restaurant on the strip and there were a lot of indie people that wanted to get their name out just like Gorillaz, so it took a minute to get a spot on stage. The performance was also only allowed forty five minutes at most, which seems like a lot but really isn’t. People tried reserving spots for when certain people were playing so when there was performances, it was packed. Meaning that for tonight, Archie was probably stuck on dish duty for the whole Gorillaz concert.

It was a bit of a bummer being so close to his favorite band and not even getting to see them perform. He could hear the music, though. The instruments travelling through the floor and making the tips of his toes vibrate and 2D’s voice filling his ears with bliss. The muffled sound of the beautiful sound made Archie’s heart race and lips curl into a content smile and hum the best he could to the songs he found familiar from the EP he bought from them not long ago. Archie was doing dishes for a long two hours, over an hour past the time limit that Gorillaz had for their show until he was greeted by one of his coworkers, the same short girl from earlier, Lindsay. Cute, about five feet plus a couple inches, long brown hair, green eyes, and a cheerful voice. She was a sweet girl and easy to work with, Archie liked talking to her.

“Hey, I think boss man wants you out there.” Lindsay spoke as she scraped some leftover food from plates into the garbage and set them by the sink. “It’s pretty packed still and there’s even more coming in.”

“Okay, I’ll be out in a minute.” Archie answered and Lindsay went back to serving tables. Internally Archie wished he was told to serve an hour ago, but accepts the disappointment easily with a shrug. It’s not like it was their last show.

Archie tied on his serving apron and grabbed his guest check book and exited the kitchen with a smile. Serving was his favorite part of the job when he did it because he got the chance to talk to people. He visited a few tables and took their orders, bringing and filling drinks here and there. Archie visited every one of his tables except for one and when he finally reached it, his body stopped functioning.

2D was sitting at his table.

2D was sitting at Archie’s table.

The lead singer of his favorite band was going to be served by Archie himself.

Archie blinked a few times to take in the fact that this was real. It was completely reasonable for 2D to be there wanting food or a drink but it was well over an hour past the performance ended, so why was he still here? As Archie looks closer he notices that 2D has an almost empty plate in front of him. He must have been served before Archie started working but now 2D was sitting at Archie’s table, meaning that he had to take over whoever was serving before. The strangest thing about this whole ordeal is that 2D was sitting alone. The rest of the band wasn’t there and 2D was sitting in a booth looking around mindlessly while eating deep fried pickles. He was sitting in Archie’s booth in denim jeans black converse, a white tank top with grey writing that Archie couldn’t exactly make out from where he was standing, and a dark olive jacket that brought the whole outfit together. Blue hair and black eyes sitting there in all of its beauty.

Archie didn’t have time to contemplate all the reasons that 2D was sitting at his table or why he was sitting alone, he had a job to do. Archie exited the room, filled drinks, held back his nervousness, and reapproached his tables until he was back to 2D, except this time he actually went up to the singer.

Calm down, Arch. It’s just your job.

“All alone? That’s not really how rockstars do it.” Archie said with a smile and set down a drink. It wasn’t the question he was supposed to ask the customer, but Archie didn’t like being a robotic waiter. 2D was staring at the stage but turned his attention to Archie when he spoke and laughed.

“Isn’t that how all rockstars end up one way or another?” 2D replied jokingly. His voice was higher when he spoke and that took Archie a bit by surprise, but still just as attractive as his singing. At this point Archie was supposed to ask if the meal was okay and leave the customer in peace to return with the check in a few minutes, but what fun was that when you were talking to 2D?

“Let’s hope you don’t end up that way too. Your music is too good.” Archie complimented and 2D’s lips curled up into a smile.

“So you know our music?” 2D asked. Archie’s face heated slightly.

“Yeah, I know some.” Archie lied. He knew almost all of their music, if not all of it. “I really like your stuff. I tried to watch you today but, y’know.” Archie gestured down his body to his apron. “Work.”

“That’s no fun, sorry you didn’t get to see. But ya didn’t miss much. Audio cut out a couple times and we had to keep real quiet because we were indoors this time. ‘Coulda been more but that wouldn’t be very nice.”

Archie was happy with the communication happening between him and 2D. He kind of expected to be brushed away after the first couple words. 2D was being really friendly, it made Archie’s whole body shiver.

“I gotta get back to tables in a second but I have a question.” Archie said and 2D looked at him curiously. “Do you, by any crazy chance, have VIP tickets? I’d love to see you meet all of you backstage sometime. If that’s not totally creepy.”

2D gave Archie the most excited look. Like the “you’re interested in what I like? What I do?” kind of look, Archie could just tell.

“Er, yeah I think so! Hold on.” 2D started rummaging through his jacket and jeans, patting his pockets and shoving his fingers in to look for something. Archie watched nervously and bit the corner of his lip. “Actually I uh, I don’t think I have ‘em with me. How ‘bout, give me your number and I’ll text next time we ‘ave a show and we’ll bring you back, yeah?”

“Okay, yeah.” Archie smiled and nodded. He pulled a pen out of his waist apron and scribbled a chain of numbers on the ticket book in his other hand. Once Archie finished his phone number, he ripped the slip out of his book and set it in front of 2D. “I’ll uh, see you later then?” Archie asked and grabbed the empty plate in front of 2D, like he just remembered he was actually on a job.

“Yeah. Oh, and one more thing.” 2D spoke and Archie paused. “I di’nt order a drink.”

On the line of things Archie just remembered, he noticed that when greeting 2D he set down a drink. He also remembers how he once saw 2D drinking a tequila sunrise in between songs at a show, and how could Archie forget making the perfect tequila sunrise specifically for 2D right before talking to him?

“It’s on the house.” Archie smiled genuinely and looked into 2D’s dark eyes once more. Then he walked away with that final statement, his phone number in the hands of his favorite singer, and the clock ticking it’s final couple minutes before work was over.

The rest of work was way more bland than the conversation he just had with 2D. Closing doors, cleaning tables, dishes, and sweeping floors, Archie was always the last one to leave for the day when it was his days to work. It was like a stress reliever for him, aside from surfing. He could think about everything while he was alone in the emptiness of Seasides. Only difference is that tonight, Archie couldn’t stop thinking about only one thing.

“See you tomorrow.” Archie spoke while he exited the doors he came in just a few hours ago. There was still sand in the locker room from what he dragged in that crunched under his shoes and would probably find it’s way into his van.

His van. Archie lived in a van.

That kind of sounds like a bad thing, but it’s really not; Archie loves living in his van. It was parked a cozy ten feet away from the back door of Seasides and (thankfully) about thirty feet away from any dumpster. Seasides had three other neighboring stores behind it, one on each side, one of those that sold penny tees and the other selling cheap souvenirs, and another connecting those two that was another restaurant selling exclusively seafood. It was like a sectioned off square of space between all four of the shops that was only accessible via alleyway and only contained three dumpsters and one white van, spray painted with graffiti and holding every single one of Archie’s belongings.

Michael let Archie stay back behind the restaurant given his circumstances as long as he wasn’t leaving things around or doing drugs right next to the place, he was okay to live there. Michael also let him keep his board and suit in the locker room because, all bragging aside, Archie had sort of a fan base. He’d get recognized while working sometimes, get asked for autographs and pictures and questions about his surfing until a mother or friend says “hey, he’s working.” Archie could easily be identified by his surfboard because he got it custom made a few years ago, a beige board with a single vertical maroon stripe down it and a cursive “Sutton” on the bottom written vertically down the stripe. He really didn’t want anyone to know that he was living behind of his work if his board was found on his van, even though the only cars or people that come back to this area is food trucks, it’s better to play it safe, so his suit and board stayed in the locker room and his van stayed behind it.

Archie opened the side door to his van and took in its beauty like he did almost every day. The interior was done all by himself, with electricity and insulation done and every item purchased himself. There was a futon on one side that he left folded down into a bed unless someone else came in to hang out, which wasn’t super often but he wasn’t a total loner. To the right of the futon was a portable record player with a blue exterior that he left closed until he used it, and to the right of that was a crate of old records that he listened to almost every second he was in there. Archie stepped into the van and opened the record box, positioned the needle, and played the vinyl that was left in there from this morning. Who doesn’t love a good old Things We Said Today?

Archie sat down on his futon and crossed his legs. Across from him was a twenty inch television propped up on the shortest stand in the world, only big enough to hold a couple of dvd’s below it and the rest he was forced to pile next to it. To the left of the television was a small storage cabinet that had snacks and a few grams of weed stored next to a weed bowl. Hanging on the back doors of Archie’s van was a rainbow flag and below his feet was an old brown rug that had more than a few stains and burn marks. That was pretty much it besides the multicolored christmas lights along the ceiling and the mini fridge stuck between the two seats at the front. There wasn’t much need for stocks of food or clothes in the van, Archie was rarely out of his work clothes or his wetsuit so he only had a few outfits otherwise. Plus he got free lunches or dinners when he worked and the rest he could buy on the strip.

Archie lived on the beach. It was his real home. His life and his love resided on the beach and held almost all of his memories. Living in a van was nice. It was personal and if he wanted to move he could just drive there because all of his belongings were in one place.The beach, the strip, the ocean. It was all his home.

Archie laid back on his futon and took his phone out of his pocket to look through his texts but as he searched through he realizes that he hasn’t gotten a single text yet. Not even a “is this the right number?” kind of text. Archie furrowed his eyebrows. Why was he so worried about getting a text from 2D? He was just a guy.

A guy with an amazing voice.

A voice that made Archie’s heart speed up. Eyes and hair and a smile that made his limbs weak. A voice that drove him crazy.

Archie should have taken 2D’s number instead.

#2d #archie sutton #starchie #fanfiction #fluff #take the risk #chapter 1 #hmu if theres errors

39 notes · View notes