#also. he 'reminded' me AGAIN to greet customers

[lotusarchon]

hiii! I was wondering if I could request MK having a crush on his coworker?? For example like- Reader works as a waiter in pigsys and Mk admires them a little too much

Can you make it spicy too in a way?? Sorry if that sounds demanding 😭😭

Yhank you!! Have a nice day<333

waiter, waiter! one serving of my heart, please (mk x reader)

content warnings: gender neutral reader, second pov (you/your), reader and Pigsy's relationship is strictly professional/no solid relationships between them, mk is in love

author's notes: twas a bit hesitant to write this cause it kinda reminded me of an asshole i once met in my older server bleghhhhh :< also sorry, i couldn't make it spicy agh

MK remembered when you first walk through the door. It was another Tuesday afternoon, bored out of his mind after another day of delivering noodles and saving the city. He'd only just returned, filling in Tang about the demons he came across while Pigsy made something in the kitchen.

And you were there. A bit dull-eyed compared to what MK remembered, but still wearing that smile he'd grown so fond of. You'd raised your hand in greeting, asking for the owner of the establishment you'd enter.

He remembered being too dazed to really focus on the conversation. All he knew was that he'd call for Pigsy, then spent the next hour or so watching you from a corner. It wasn't until you had taken your leave did he realize to ask, and he turned to Pigsy for answers.

“Oh, don't look at me like that.” Pigsy had sighed, sliding a bowl of freshly cooked noodles towards him. “You've been busier than ever with your training. And since we don't want a repeat of last time―” Last time meaning the clone incident. He still couldn't get over obese Delivery Clone trying to eat Pigsy… “―I figured a helping hand around here would do the trick.”

MK pretended to pout. “So you're replacing me?”

“No, dumbass.” Pigsy threw a wet cloth at Tang. It landed with ease, and the scholar whined. “Just that you don't have to stress too much about not doing enough around here. (Name)’ll work in your free time, and you theirs.”

It didn't seem like too bad of an arrangement. There were days he couldn't be around, swamped with training or some monster that wouldn't leave the city alone, and Pigsy would need an extra hand to help around. He could've asked Mei though, but he figured that the pig demon also wanted to offer employment to anyone in need of it.

It's just that, while MK had eaten his noodles and stared through the window to past the time, he really thought you were interesting, and the plans Pigsy had meant that, most likely, neither of you would get to speak together.

And that sucked. Because, once MK had the idea (and mere audacity, to quote a certain hot tempered bull prince) of befriending someone, not even the Buddha could pry the thought from his head.

Which in turn, lead to certain events, as of now. Hanging around during his own breaks to catch a mere glimpse of you, trying to play off the ‘cool’ hero act only to have his own staff knock him over in the process, god awful flirting attempts (seriously, those lines were bad bad), to name a few of the things he'd done. That wasn't even mentioning the times he accidentally held you up during rush hour, earning a scolding from Pigsy and customers that were completely rude to you and made MK feel so guilty in the aftermath.

With that last one, you'd think that such behavior would be enough to put anyone off. No sane adult liked getting yelled at for actions that weren't their fault, especially from their boss.

By the gods, you were a literal saint. And MK would be damn well lying if he said he wasn't head over heels in love, and that was saying something.

But, no. You still smiled at MK every morning when clocking in for work, and you still laughed at his bad jokes and horrible flirting lines. The rare off chance you two spoke, you were always so nice, not even bringing up the fact he'd gotten you into so much trouble over and over again.

“You're going on your lunch break?” He asked, waiting outside for you to show your face once again. Today had been his day off, but with Mei busy and the city surprisingly peaceful for the time, what better way to spend it than with you?

The question was a bit…too obvious, honestly. Of course you'd be going on your lunch break at this hour, how would he not know when he worked for Pigsy at the same time?? Plus, it's not like he hadn't hassled Pigsy before about your work hours and the time you'd take your breaks so…

You raised your head and glanced at him, nodding slightly. “Yes. Would you like to join me?”

In his head, MK was jumping for joy. He had been planning on asking you if he should join, but then you went right ahead and invited him first. This was progress at its finest, and MK was nabbing at this opportunity faster than lightning.

Just as quickly, he responded, “I mean, if you wouldn't mind me, I don't mind! Like, if you want me, haha….”

He could imagine Mei looking down at him in disappointment. <Seriously, confidence is key. You're the Monkie Kid, what do you have to be worried about!?

That was easy for her to say! She was always cool, unlike MK who'd embarassing himself in front of you so many times….

Lost in thought, he hadn't realized you'd stopped walking until he nearly tripped over a table. You had the kindness to grab at him before he fell, offering your sweet, signature smile while he took a seat, nervously laughing.

“So….”

“So…”

How awkward. MK played with his sleeves, watching you pop open a box of noodles from Pigsy and eat. How the fuck do you even start conversations again?

As if you read his mind, you raised your head and gave him another smile. How he wished he had a notebook and pen around, if only to sketch you with such a peaceful expression.

“You can speak, if you'd like,” you said assuringly, picking up a mushroom from your bowl. MK was never a fan of vegetables, but watching you stick it into your mouth made him wonder if he should try eating some. “I'll listen. ‘kay?”

So thoughtful. “O..okay…”

And boy did MK speak. He chattered endlessly about anything that came to mind, gauging how you reacted carefully. Sometimes, you'd finish chewing to comment or too, other times, your expression would change with whatever he was talking about, nodding along in agreement with his peeves and then shaking your head when someone else supposedly did him wrong.

At some point, he'd completely trailed off topic, staring at your lips wrapped around your chopstick. He was technically still yapping, except that now―

“What did you just say?”

He blinked.

What…..what had he been talking just now? Was it something that upsetted you!? Fuck, he's such an idiot, allowing his mouth to blabber―

“You…like me?”

….

…

MK stood to bolt.

It turned out you were a lot faster than you gave him credit for. You had already grabbed him by the collar, yanking him backwards and onto the seat―this time, next to you.

“MK.”

Dear god, he wanted to disappear. Why hadn't Monkey King taught him one of his 72 transformations?? Fleeing from this situation would be a whole lot faster….

“MK.” You repeated his name, turning his head to look at you. “I heard you, you know.”

MK sighed. “Listen, I'm so sorry―”

“Why? Who said I didn't like you too?”

“―like, I know, I know, you're not here for relationships or any of that sort, and I shouldn't―what did you just say?”

You smiled slightly. “I said, I like you too.”

“Oh.”

“...”

“...”

And then MK fainted.

“MK? Are you alright?”

@lotusarchon , 28.11.2024, all rights reserved. do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission. comments, reblogs and likes are appreciated!

[schluttforschlatt]

Bartender pt. 2

WC: 2.1k

Warnings: alcohol consumption

Parings: Schlatt x Reader

AN: more setup and character building, the next chapter will focus more on Schlatt

I love yall!! Hope you enjoy :)

You watched the clock across the bar while absentmindedly wiping down the counter. The little hand ticking closer to the next minute provided minimal joy, but meant another minute closer to going home.

3:47

3:48.

The bar was fairly vacant this time of day, with the sun still being out and most patrons wrapping up their day at the office. Of course there were a few early birds partaking in their choice of drink, but they were typically the one drink and done type. The kitchen got more action from this crowd than you ever did behind the bar. It was also a Thursday, another factor that limited the amount of customers wandering in. You moved to the ice machine to refill your well, deciding to wipe that down, too. Not like there was much else to do.

After returning with the bucket of ice and dumping it in, three men strolled on in. You greeted them while one broke off from the group and made his way towards the restroom.

“Welcome on in! Seat yourselves!” Your cheery voice rang. One of them turned and waved a hand as a ‘thanks’, flashing a small smile. You took note of how young they all looked, a contrast to the other occupants inside, then returned the ice bucket back to its home.

I hope one of them actually buys a drink.

You sighed, looking around for something to refill or deep clean. It was hard finding things to keep busy with on weekdays, especially afternoon weekdays. There were only so many bottles of liquor to dust or beer taps to polish before becoming tedious. You settled on rolling silverware, occasionally glancing up from the task to peek at the men.

They settled into a booth after their friend had exited the restroom, sharing a few laughs. They were discussing something about a sponsorship from what you could gather. It’s not eavesdropping if they’re talking loud enough for you to hear.

After about fifteen minutes, one of them got up and strolled over to you behind the bar. He stood there impishly and waited for you to notice. You placed the silverware to the side and turned to take his order.

“Would you like me to run a tab for you?” You asked, looking up at the man.

“Yeah, what would be great,” he smiled. Taking in his features while he recited an order, you couldn’t help but notice how soft his eyes looked. They were warm, an amber-ish brown color, with long eyelashes, reminding you of bourbon: you could get drunk on them alone.

“Alright, I just need to see-“ before you could finish your sentence, three IDs were placed on the counter. Checking over them, you nodded in approval as he picked them up, securing them in his jacket pocket.

You took in more of his face. Strong nose and wide chin, facial hair growing down his jaw. He was very attractive. And also very tall. While his face was inviting, his stature was imposing, towering almost a foot (if not more) above you. You continued to input his order into the register, feeling your face grow warm.

“You got it, boss. I’ll have those out for you in just a moment.” You grinned while moving back down the bar to start the drinks. One lager from the tap, a grasshopper, and a double whiskey neat. Easy enough. You started the lager first, pulling the tap with your right hand, while reaching to grab a whiskey with your left, pouring it into a rocks glass just below the shelf. You stopped the lager once the foam was just about perfect, keeping an eye on your pour of whiskey. Maybe that’s a little more than double. Oh well. Returning the bottle back to its home on the shelf, you then grabbed a bottle of crème de menthe and crème de cacao, holding the bottles in one hand while reaching to scoop ice into a shaker with the other. After pouring, you placed the lid on the shaker, gave it a rough few tosses, removed the lid again, and gave a hearty dose of heavy cream. Replacing the lid once more, you shook it a few more times before pouring it into a coupe class, and garnishing it with a sprig of mint.

Once the three drinks were complete, you turned around to hand them to the man that had ordered them. You looked up at his face and blushed, noticing that he was staring rather intently at your back. I hope you’re not gonna be one of those customers.

“Here ya go!” You ignored his gaze and handed the drinks forward, trying to brush off the way this interaction was making you feel. He shook his head and exchanged a quiet “thanks” before a blush would creep across his own cheeks, turning around and making his way back to the table with his friends.

Normally when a man would stare, it boiled something deep within yourself and made you cringe, uncomfortable and unnerving. However, something about this guy made you feel… nice? Maybe nice wasn’t the word. Confident? Regardless, this was just another transaction with another customer and meant nothing. He hadn’t tried to actually hit on you, and seemed rather bashful that he was caught. You turned around and hummed to the song playing over the sound system, picking back up silverware to roll.

-

A few hours had passed and patrons had come and gone. It was an early night for you, which meant being out of the establishment by 8:30. Looking up at the clock, still ticking by too slowly for your liking, it was 8:15. Fifteen more minutes.

You were thankful for the hours you got here. Weekdays you were out by nine at the latest, giving you enough time at wind down with homework before getting comfy in bed. Your boss had been kind enough to work with not only your school schedule, but your schedule at the diner as well. What a saint. She had been understanding of your situation, what with needing to work two part time jobs because the full time market with flexible scheduling wasn’t exactly flexible when it came down to your class schedule. And sure, taking only a few credits per quarter and being online helped a lot, but most places were looking for nine-to-fivers, not only-available-mornings-and-nighters. In no world would working two jobs be ideal, but this was mangable for you. This is manageable for now.

You made sure to restock your bar, take the bussing bin of used glasses back to the dish room, and prep garnishes before clocking out at 8:30 on the dot. The night bartender would always be handed over a neat station, with all tabs lined up on the POS ready to be cashed out. You’d worked a handful of twelve hour shifts to know how frustrating an unstocked bar could be when another bartender hadn’t pulled their weight or side work during their shifts to leave in any state other than perfect. You exchanged a few words with the closer before walking to the back of house and getting your bag to head out.

You pulled your hair out of the messy ponytail it was in and raked your fingers over your scalp, sighing at the feeling. On days like this, (slow afternoons with mostly older crowds) letting your hair down was the first step to winding down for the day. You stood up straight and stretched before snatching your bag from the desk to walk out for the night.

The weeknight bartender waved you over as soon as she saw you emerge, the tall man from earlier standing in front of the register.

“Everything all good?” You asked her, seeing a receipt and a few bills cash on the counter.

“Everything’s perfect! Just wanted to make sure you got your last tip before heading out.” She smiled, sliding the stack towards you. You reached out to grab at it when the tall man placed his hand over yours. There’s that damn blush again. He cleared his throat before speaking up.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier, I was just impressed watching you make our drinks. My friend said that was the best damn grasshopper he’s ever had,” a small smile tugged at his lips, almost as if he was embarrassed to be speaking with you. “Jus’ wanted to pass that on.” You returned the expression.

“Thank you, I hope y’all had an enjoyable night.” He removed his hand and nodded shyly, his friends leaving the booth and making their way over to him. Pocketing the tip, you ducked out the door not knowing how to continue the interaction while feeling a pang of guilt for not even getting his name. You shook it off as you took off towards your apartment, aching feet begging for the feeling of warm fuzzy socks and your comfy bed.

-

You hadn’t even walked through the door of your apartment when the cries of your cats became audible. Chuckling, you unlocked the door and stepped inside, kicking your boots off while greeting the starving felines.

“Mel, I know you think you’re dying when you go more than eight hours without wet food, but the lack of crunchies in your bowl says otherwise,” you joked at the cat as she rubbed up against your legs. You walked over to the couch and set your bag down, trying not to trip over her. You bent down to pick her up, scratching under her chin. “Let’s get you fed and ready for bed, yeah?” She chirped back at you in response. You carried her into the kitchen with the other two trailing behind you. You placed a kiss on her head before setting her down in her preferred food-receiving spot on the counter.

Your night would start the same way your morning would begin. Getting three ceramic bowls out of the cupboard, and opening up a fresh can of Fancy Feast for your three non-human children. Of course Mellie was first, followed by Oats, and lastly Bones. No other order would do. Washing your hands after serving dinner, you considered what to have for dinner. Pizza, Alfredo, or Fajitas. All TV Dinners, of course.

You settled on Alfredo, removing the meal from the freezer and popping it into the microwave. Your mind wandered to the topic of the essay you needed to finish, mentally mapping out which direction you wanted to present it. The microwave beeped bringing you out of your little trance, and you swiftly removed the tray and grabbed a fork, settling back down on the couch much like you had earlier in the day.

You powered on the television and thumbed through the applications presented. Thank God for Roku. Clicking on YouTube and waiting for your feed to pop up on the screen was the second step to winding down for the night. You scrolled through uploads for a few moments, blowing on the plate of Alfredo occasionally, until settling on a video about the history of Nintendo.

You ate in near silence, the tv only on at a low volume. Throughout the meal, you tried to brainstorm ideas for your essay. You weren’t too happy with the current direction it was going, but knew it was too late in the quarter to switch topics or start over. You sighed, swapping the now clean plate for your laptop on the coffee table, and began to furiously type away.

You weren’t sure how long you were staring at the document in front of you, but it felt like you should have had more written than you did. You only managed to get through a few paragraphs before abandoning ship. The cats had all settled down around the living room, which inspired you to do the same. You saved the document before closing your laptop and returning it to the table once again. You stood up to stretch, snatching the discarded plate to place in the kitchen sink before retiring to your bedroom.

You couldn’t help but feel guilty, determined to have made a sizable dent in the essay, only to neglect the task at hand to daydream. Sure, you often got distracted doing homework or projects, who doesn’t, but the source of your diversion tonight made you feel slightly embarrassed.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the man at the bar. About his gentle brown eyes, his soft-looking chestnut hair. Even his facial hair, a bit scraggly but somehow endearing. See? Embarrassing. He made you feel like a schoolgirl, butterflies fluttering around inside your chest. He had said maybe a total of five sentences to you and you wanted to lay down on your stomach and kick your feet in the air. After changing into pajamas and climbing under the covers, you let your mind run free, trying to recall every detail about him.

You remembered his name started with the letter J, having only glanced to verify his age when he handed you his ID. Was it Jason? James? Jared? You couldn’t recall, but hey, at least you knew it started with a J. Against better judgement, you unlocked your phone and opened up Tinder, deciding to swipe and see if just maybe this guy would magically show up. Maybe he was local and was just out for some cheap drinks with friends from out of town. Maybe he’s only in town for some family thing, linking up with buddies from college. The possibilities were endless, much like the men you continued to swipe past. Your eyes began to feel heavy, the grip on your phone weakening. The search can continue tomorrow. You plugged your phone in to charge, quickly checking to see that your alarms for the morning were set, before locking the screen and drifting off to sleep.

[florida3exclamationpoints]

.

[systemadministratorclu]

Y'all, I just HAD to share this, because holy shit.

A little background first:

I run the drive-thru cash register window at a fast food joint. One of the shittiest jobs there is because some of the rudest/stupidest people on the planet come through the drive-thru, and one must have near superhuman patience to deal with it. That said, there are customers who come regularly and are not hard to deal with at all. And then there are some-very few and far between-that restore your faith in humanity a little every time they come.

This is about one such customer.

This guy comes every day at about the same time with his grandson (6 years old when this started, recently turned 7) and gets the exact same thing every time. To the point where now either I see their car or I hear the guy say his name (whichever happens first) and I'm already ringing them up. Because of this, the kid now thinks I have weirdly specific psychic powers, and has said he prefers coming to the place when I'm there. He's also decided I'm the best employee this place has. The granddad talks to me like I'm a human, they're always smiling and happy to see me (which means a lot in this line of work, let me tell you) and even on my shittiest days, they've managed to make me smile. I genuinely look forward to seeing these people every day.

Recently, grandson was hella excited to tell me he had a birthday coming up. Reminded me every day "my birthday's coming!" as most 6yo kids do.

Maybe I was feeling a little holiday spirit or something, but one day after work, I went to the Dollar Tree near the restaurant. I picked out a kid's birthday card and a Christmas card. I wrote a message in the Christmas one about what I just explained above, thanking them for bringing some joy to my days, because y'know what? People need to hear that shit. Especially in today's world. And I wanted them to know how much this meant to me. I wrote a little joke in the birthday card about not forgetting the day. Then I looked in my wallet, saw I had a $10 and a $1, and stuck the $10 in the birthday card. Addressed the birthday card to the kid and the Christmas one to kid and grandpa. I give the cards to them on their normal drive-thru visit. They are of course surprised (kid starts yelling "thank you" even though he hasn't gotten to open it yet) but thankful. Then the line moves on.

Fast forward to today.

I see the car come in but I don't start ringing the order up, because it's WAY early for them. I give my usual greeting, then I hear a woman's voice, so I think it's someone in the same kind of car. But when she asks "is this Hal?" I then realize it's the kid's mother, whom he has told all about me and who has come through with him before.

I say yes, and she tells me she's not here to order anything, just to see me, since kid and granddad are sick. I tell her to come on to the window, she does, and hands me a card and a nicely wrapped gift. I asked her to tell them hi for me, she said she would and then the line moved.

I got off on lunch break and opened card and gift.

I was not prepared. At all.

This is the gift...

...the card (no writing on the front).....

.....and the typed note inside the card that actually brought tears to my eyes.

......I'm still not over this. I will be thinking about how this went on for OVER HALF A FUCKING YEAR and I had no idea.

This is the kind of stuff that makes this shitty job worth it. People like this....We need more of in this world. I'm going to hold onto that note so when I feel like shit or I don't matter, I can look at it and know there's a kid out there who I am so important to that he got his dad to write a whole-ass letter, to some random stranger he only knows through his son, inviting me to their fucking house. I'm tearing up again as I write this, just thinking about it.

If that doesn't say "you matter", idk what does.

(And yes, I will go at some point, because how can I not? I'm not gonna dash this kid's hopes and make myself look like an enormous asshole. This is the RL version of being handed a toy phone and told it's ringing)

[gi4hao]

jun x fem!reader (she/her) — pure fluff <3

“hi. excuse me, i’m looking for that book? it says you have it here on your website but i can’t find it anywhere”

you look up from your computer and flash a smile to the handsome customer that’s standing behind your desk. the library has been particularly empty this afternoon, so this interaction comes as a much needed relief from your intense boredom.

standing up from your chair, you motion the boy to follow you towards the modern history section, where you know his book is waiting amongst a hundred others.

“it should be over here, let me jus…”

but you’re cut off by a slight push on your shoulders, just strong enough to have your back meet the shelves right in the middle of the alley.

you let out a chuckle, not surprised in the least. now towering over you, the pretty customer lets you just enough time to notice his smirk before putting his lips over yours.

“jun, i’m at work”, you push him back, but your giddy smile and the giggle in your voice betray how you truly feel.

“but i miss you” your boyfriend replies, kissing you again. “when do you finish?”

“in an hour” you reply, your hand mindlessly playing with his hair. you love it when it’s tied half-up, and he knows that very well. “just go for a walk or do some shopping and then come back to pick me up, okay?”

you notice his gaze shifting to your left and landing on a rather thick book with yellow pages and a fancy looking cover.

“no i think i’m gonna stay here. just me and…” he pauses to read the title, “recollections of the civil war. can’t wait.”

you chuckle at this convincing display of interest, and give him another peck on the lips.

holding the book against his chest, he then tells you in a whisper: “ok don’t say anything but i’m actually just gonna sit over there and admire the hot librarian. she’s really cute, i wonder if she’d wanna go on a date with me. what do you think?”

after giving a quick look at your surroundings, you whisper back: “i think you have your chances. plus she told me she felt like going to the movies lately so, you know… just saying…”

he nods in agreement, and you two eventually part ways to avoid attracting the attention of the other few people here.

the rest of your shift feels like an eternity. jun chose to sat rather close to your desk, and although he spent most of his time looking at you, it only made your impatience grow stronger. not to mention that he kept texting you how good you looked which made it hard to focus on your actual work. but 5pm eventually came around, and you were out of the building less than three minutes later.

“hi gorgeous” he greets you, linking his arm with yours when you meet him outside. “hope you’re ready to run, our movie starts in 10mn.”

“wait, what?” you ask, and immediately feel your arm being pulled forward by your excited boyfriend, who’s already started running with a huge smile on his lips.

it’s not that jun is particularly eager to go to the movies; but every once in a while, he likes to remind himself that he’s actually sharing his life with the hot librarian he used to have a huge crush on. some days he even allows himself to think that, in a few years, he might also share his last name.

[fluffysucker]

Battered and Bruising.

Bucky Barnes x Reader (AU) Boxer/Biker! Bucky Barnes x Chef! Reader Part of the Miss Americana & The heartbreak Prince. AKA Bucky and his princess ALL ONESHOTS CAN BE READ AS STAND-ALONE

You received a distressing phone call.

Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female. Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated. Opinions really matter to me.

Also I'm very bad at describing places. Please forgive me. Hope it's clear to picture.

Main Masterlist

You couldn't sit still. You kept squirming and fuzzing in the taxi's seat. You were sure the driver was giving you dirty looks, afraid you would wear down the material of his vehicle. But you couldn't care. You were close to biting your nails off. You were so worried. Anxiety filling your body like the darkness of the sky at midnight. Tension running through your muscles and veins like water in oceans.

It was supposed to be a normal day. just like any other.

You woke up to the feeling of soft kisses on your neck and strong arms wrapping tightly around you, pulling you closer than you were already. Sweet words filling your ears with your boyfriend's sleepy voice.

You lived for mornings like this, which is why you wouldn't be able to recall the last time you woke up alone in bed. It was either your place or his. A drawer in each of your dressers is now officially dedicated to the other's stuff. Pieces of each of you were spread at each other's homes. Because you became each other's home. Bucky was itching to ask you to move in together, but he was waiting for the right time.

After the blissful morning you shared together at Bucky's place with breakfast and your joint getting-ready routine, you left to start the day. It was a big bonus that both of your workplaces were separated by a wall. It gave you both a lot more time to spend together. Not only did you get to arrive and leave together, but you also got the chance to sneak in and see each other whenever you liked. You were lucky.

The minute you stepped in, you had so many things to do. Customers were following your tail as you walked in. Your business was growing, and you could never complain. As the day carried on, you got busier and busier. However, that didn't stop you from checking the time every now and then, so you didn't miss it. You would be sad if you did.

So when it reached five o'clock, you were throwing your apron off and leaving the restaurant. Ten minutes wouldn't hurt anybody.

You opened the gym's door and greeted MJ, who will be taking on the receptionist role since Peter was going with them tonight. You reminded yourself to stop by and drop off some food for her in a couple of hours. Maybe even a dessert.

Once you walked into the main area, your eyes were scanning the place for the person you came for.

"He is the locker room." You turned around as you heard Sam's voice.

"We could have left an hour early, but he refused. I wonder why." The smirk on Sam's face was big. Of course, he knew why Bucky didn't want to leave earlier than he told you.

"Have a good day, Sam." You walked towards the locker room with a smile on your face.

Bucky and the others had their own locker rooms other than the ones for the regular gym attendees. It was the one in the very back. Bucky chose it for privacy reasons. And since you got together, he had been enjoying this choice more and more.

As you were about to knock on the door, it was opened by Steve, who was walking out. A smirk, just like Sam's, found its place on his face as he saw you. Both men enjoyed watching their best friend being so head over heels in love, who was making them all wait for you because he never wanted to see the somber look on your face like he saw it once when he left before you stopped by. Never again. Everything could wait for you.

Steve stepped aside, letting you get in, and closed the door to give you both the time you needed.

Your boyfriend had his back to you as he was zipping up his duffle bag. But your sugary perfume and the smell of hours of cooking made him turn around. He would never miss your unique scent. the one that put him at ease and soothed his being.

"Hey, princess." He started walking towards you, and you met in the middle.

"Hey, you." You wrapped your arms around his neck and reached up to give him a peck on the lips.

"All ready?" You asked, keeping your arms around him.

"Yeah. Did the final training. Had a shower. Got everything I needed. We are ready to go." His arms were around your waist now.

"You are going to be so great. You are always the best." You gave him another peck.

"Just want one last thing." You looked at him, ready to help with whatever he needed.

"My good luck." Bucky easily lifted you up of your feet, kissing you passionately.

This is your routine now. Whenever Bucky had a fight, you would show up and wish him good luck before he left. He hadn't lost one since.

You were happy with this routine. Bucky was still strongly against you ever watching him fight; while you disagreed, you knew it was his choice, and you respected that. So you enjoyed whatever he gave you.

In return, Bucky let you in more. He brought you to some of the team gatherings and hangouts. He wasn't surprised when your sweet self managed to win all his friends over. They loved you. Who could ever meet you and not love you? Bucky certainly wasn't the one to answer this. And you loved them. Your ability and capacity to love everyone didn't exclude the rough people he thought of as family.

While he refused to let you anywhere near the brutality he called a job, Bucky learned to compromise. So he started opening up. He started telling you about his days, fights, and sometimes opponents more. He knew you worried a lot about him and about the stuff he never shared. So he was trying to find common ground. And if wishing him good luck before every fight was going to put your mind in the littlest of ease, Bucky could do that.

And that was the last time you saw him for the day.

Bucky told you pits and pieces about his opponent today, but nothing much. All you knew was that Bucky was training hard, and he spent lots of late nights at the gym. Some nights, you would close your restaurant and then join him and watch as he trained. Any support you could provide him with, you weren't going to hesitate. even as little as keeping his company.

Your worry about his well-being during the fights was growing each time. It grew with your love for him. And you were madly in love with him.

You busied yourself in the kitchen, letting your emotions under control while you went from recipe to recipe and from dish to dish as you waited for Bucky's text.

Another thing Bucky picked up doing to help ease your nerves was texting you right after the fight. Usually, he would tell me that he was fine and what he was doing after. Whether he was staying and going to Nat's bar or coming back to you, You only joined them in the after-fight victory parties a number of times. Usually, only when the fights were easy. Because parties after big fights weren't just for the team. There would be lots of outsiders, other boxers, and teams. You knew Bucky wouldn't be comfortable if you were there.

So you waited for him. He preferred your place after these kinds of days. You would have a meal ready in the fridge for reheating. The bathroom would be filled with soap and water. Clean, silky-smooth sheets would be in place, covering the bed. everything to help him relax. And you checked on everything before you left for his place last night.

The only thing you had to do now was wait for his text.

But it never came. Instead, you received a very distressing phone call.

That was what led you to where you are right now. Your mind racing, your knuckles white around your bag, and your leg bouncing up and down in the backseat of the taxi.

Stark's property was huge. You couldn't miss it, even if you wanted to. It made sense why it would be so deep into the city. It took a very large space that only such locations offered. The street was all dark except for the neon lights with the name Stark above the entrance. Other than that, it was nearly black.

You were able to work out the figure standing under the lights right next to the entrance. He was pacing back and forth on the pavement. You paid the driver once he stopped as you got out of the cab.

"Peter, what is going on?" With quick steps, you were standing right in front of the young man.

"Is he okay?" The slight shake in your voice was obvious. The question had been haunting you ever since Peter called and didn't answer it the first time.

"Yes," Peter replied, already seeing the worry all over your face.

"Physically, at least." Peter continued. Because if Bucky was okay, why were you here?

Before you could ask any more questions, Peter led you in. The bouncers at the door let you in immediately as they saw Peter. The inside of the place was nothing like the outside. It was loud, bright, and full of people. There were small food trucks, side bars, merchandise stations, and everything. You could see different kinds of sports and entertainment exercises scattered all over the place, with people around. However, the main area of the property was occupied by a huge boxing ring. It had the most people around it. There are lots of people.

You couldn't inspect more of the place as Peter was rushing the both of you to the back area. It was very clear since you got in here that you didn't belong at all. Your choice of outfit and aura were making you stand out among the sea of people. Peter put his hand around the small of your back, respectively, to guide you through the place. He was trying to get you inside as fast as possible. He wasn't as intimidating as Bucky or some of the others. And if anything happened to you, even as little as a snarky comment, Peter couldn't imagine the wrath he would have to endure. To say Peter was panicking would be an understatement.

The breath of relief Peter let out as you entered the back area was audible. The back area was similar to the one in the gym but much larger and busier. Peter led you to the one room in the back, which you suspected was the largest in the place. He opened the door for you, and you had to close your eyes for a second from the contrast of the lightning. The back area was dimly lit, while the locker room was bright white. You got used to the lights, then looked around to find everybody in here.

As Peter walked you in, you could feel the high tension in the room. The first thing that caught your eye was bleeding Peter Quill and Thor. You didn't know Peter Quill that well; you only met him when you met the team and never passed the greetings stage, but you were more familiar and friendly with Thor. And the sight of both big men holding their noses to stop the bleeding, with bruises forming on their faces, was troubling. Lots of the others were trying to help them.

Only did you take your eyes away when Peter kept moving further into the room until you noticed the small room separated from the big one with a door. You found Sam and Bruce talking beside the door. Peter came to a stop when you reached both men.

"Thank God you are here." Sam spoke quickly as he laid eyes on you.

"Sam, what is going on?" Up to now, you had no idea why you were here. Peter rushed you in and then brought you here with no explanation. You could feel your nerves starting to burn from anxiety.

Before Sam could say anything, a sound of something breaking coming from behind the door rang through the place. You shared eye contact with Sam for seconds, and you started to form an idea about what was happening.

You stepped towards Sam, indicating that you wanted to get inside. Sam looked at you, and you gave him a nod to assure him, and he nodded back. Sam turned and knocked on the door.

You flinched, from surprise, as your boyfriend's angry voice echoed around, shouting that he didn't want to see anyone.

However, the door was unlocked, and Steve stood in the doorframe. You couldn't read the hard expression on his face. But his eyebrows softened slightly when he saw you.

The shouting from your boyfriend made everyone wince in their places. You stepped forward to take Sam's place and stood in front of Steve, determination in your eyes.

Steve signed before he moved aside to let you in, closing the door with the three of you.

The room was small. You thought maybe it was for medical purposes, if needed. But you didn't have the time or mind to pay any attention to your new surroundings.

Your boyfriend was sitting on a chair, his head in his hands, grabbing his hair tightly between his fingers, and his breath was short and angry. Brokrn stuff and objects were scattered all around the room.

"Bucky." You called for him softly to make your presence known.

His head shot up. His eyes were red, bruises were all over his face, and his breath got angrier.

"You called her?" His voice was quiet, but it was deep, hiding many emotions.

"You called my girl?" He stood up, keeping his eyes on Steve, not looking at you at all.

"You brought my girl here?" His breath was getting shorter, with every word coming out as a growl.

"Bucky.." You tried to speak and find the right words to say so it wouldn't escalate.

"You made her come here all by herself and walk in here?" He started walking towards you and Steve.

"YOU BROUGHT HER HERE TONIGHT." Bucky shouted, his angry voice ringing in the small room.

Out of instinct, Steve stepped forward to stand in front of Bucky, keeping you behind him.

That seemed to snap Bucky out of the spell he was in. His red eyes are now coated with hurt. His breath stopped for a moment. Frozen in his place, he couldn't help but think of it. Did Steve think he would hurt you? Did Steve think he needed to protect you from him? Did Steve think that even in this state, he would cause you any harm?

It felt like a knife driven deep into his heart. Betrayal from his best friend, who brought you here against all his wishes, and then thought you needed a shield to be in the same room with him.

But no, that wasn't why Steve did it. He didn't want you to see Bucky lose his temper like he did numerous times tonight. Steve couldn't remember whose idea it was to call you, but he could remember the collective agreement that approved of the suggestion. All aware of the effect you have on the boxer. So Steve expected, like the others, that once you walked in and his best friend saw you, all the insanity that was tonight would come to an end.

But Steve should have known better. Bringing you in here would only make Bucky madder, and you would get to see a version of your boyfriend that Bucky tried so hard to keep from you. Steve regretted agreeing to bring you here.

The tension in the room got thicker. The only sound was the heavy breathing of the three of you. You weren't able to see the look on Steve's face, but Bucky's expression was crystal clear.

"Steve, can you give us a minute?" You stepped away from behind Steve, so you could be in Bucky's eyesight.

Steve turned to you with an unsure look on his face, and you immediately rubbed his shoulder to assure him you knew what you were doing.

Steve nodded and left the room silently. Now, it was just the two of you.

While Bucky looked anywhere but you, his eyes moving all over the room, you finally got to look at him. He was in a pair of black sweatpants, his chest left bare, making all the bruises and cuts on his upper body exposed to your eyes.

You signed, your heart breaking at the sight of your boyfriend battered like this. But it wasn't his physical pain that you were only worried about.

Bucky's eyes finally moved to look at you as you put your bag on the nearest table and started to move around, looking for something.

Bucky was confused. He wanted to ask you what you were doing, but he couldn't find it in himself to talk to you. Too many emotions are tormenting him.

Your little, quiet squeals told him you found what you wanted. You moved towards him with the first-aid kit in hand.

You grabbed the closest chair and positioned it in front of the chair, which Bucky was previously sitting on, and pulled a small table closer as well, where you put the first aid kit and started to empty its contents.

"You will catch lots of infections if you don't get the wounds clean." You spoke when you noticed that Bucky was standing still in his place.

"And God knows you become a big baby when you get sick." You joked. You tried to lighten the mood. to tell him that you were here to help. You weren't judging him. You would never judge him.

And he heard you. So, he came and sat back in the chair in front of you. This time, he sat with his back straight so you could patch him up.

You sat in silence, but there was so much hanging in the air between you. You didn't want to push him. You knew he would start talking when he felt ready.

"Who called you?" And he did.

"Does it matter?" You didn't look at him, sticking to cleaning his wounds.

"To me, yes." He regretted raising his voice immediately, even when you didn't move.

"You shouldn't be here." He continued when he knew he wouldn't get an answer from you.

"But I am." You looked up at him.

"And I want to." Finally, your eyes have met since you got here.

"Don't you see it? the damage I'm capable of doing. the chaos I can create. the pain I put others through. The mess I am."

Today's game was cruel, to say the least. Bucky's opponent played dirty. So dirty, that wasn't against the rules. Because this was never mentioned in any rule book. Mental hits.

Bucky's opponent not only studied Bucky's style and techniques so well, but he did some research as well. So, he would be able to defeat Bucky's strength. And he did.

The second he knew Bucky was winning, he ran his mouth nonstop. He brought up stuff that should never again be brought into the ring. Family stuff. Bucky's life before boxing, the team and their families.

It was shocking. Bucky almost lost his footing once or twice. Was this allowed? Well, it wasn't prohibited. Bucky tried to keep his head straight and not focus on the words coming from the man in front of him. However, it was getting harder and harder as the man kept getting more personal.

Until his opponent mentioned your restaurant's name, Every little drop of blood in Bucky's body ran cold. The noise around him became an annoying ring in his ears. And the opponent took his chance and started landing his punches.

Bucky was trying to regain his composure, but the man's words and punches didn't stop. He was talking nonsense about your restaurant, but he made a mistake that he never estimated.

"I heard you got soft because of that place and wanted to know why. I will tell you what. I would go soft for an adorable thing like her. What a shame that you are the only one who gets to ruin her."

That was the nail in the man's coffin.

Bucky was unstoppable. A monster. a beast with no restraints. You weren't a subject to bring into such a rotten place, and that man was going to pay for even thinking you could be involved in this circus.

Bucky only stopped when he heard the whistle and the referee breaking them apart. Bucky knew that if he didn't stop, he would have to face a penalty of sorts. So he did. But the mental troll has already happened.

The team was taken aback by Bucky's actions once they got out of the lights. They saw him angry after fights before. But this was different. He had lost his mind, and he wasn't willing to talk or tell anybody what happened. And he was getting worse by the second that they had to lock him in the medical room so nobody more would get hurt. They had no clue what to do.

And desperate times call for desperate measures.

So here he was, shame and guilt eating him as you were, once again, showing him kindness he had never encountered before.

"I never wanted you to see that."

"I didn't want you to think that I could hurt you."

"Bucky.."

"I would never hurt you, I swear."

His voice got smaller with each word. It was why he never wanted you anywhere near this. so you wouldn't get scared and run away. So you wouldn't see what he looked like when he lost control. And today, he did, and you saw it.

The opponent's voice is still ringing in his ears. He was ruining you. Everyone could see it. You being here just proved it. Because if it hadn't been for him, you would have never stepped a foot in here. Maybe he was already hurting you.

"Bucky." Tears were starting to form in your eyes. You put the stuff down and put your hand on his cheek.

"You can never hurt me. Never."

It was painful to hear the person who became your source of safety and security, the one you relied on the most, think like this.

"The only person you are hurting is yourself, and I can't stand by and watch." It was time you told him the truth.

"You need to stop living these two versions of yourself. You need to stop hiding from me."

"I love you, Bucky. I love you more than I have loved anything in my life. I knew who you were when we met, and it didn't change anything. I still got to fall in love with you."

"Nothing you do is going to change that. I know you think that I won't be able to handle it, but I will, and I want to know. all of it. Everything."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to hide parts of yourself from me. like you have to be someone else. I love everything about you and everything that made you."

"I want you to be able to share stuff and talk about your day freely without thinking too much about it, without keeping parts that you think I won't like."

"I want to sit in the front row and cheer for my boyfriend as he beats people up. I want to get to brag about my strong man." That brought a small laugh from the both of you.

"Nothing is ever going to make me leave or hate you. Nothing. So whatever you think is going to drive me away, it won't. Never."

You meant every word you said. You didn't want to be in a one-sided relationship where Bucky felt like he couldn't be himself. No, you wanted to be his safe place. You wanted to be the person he came to, and poured his heart out. You wanted to take care of him. You wanted him to let you love him. all of him.

"I love you so much that I won't care if you turn out to be a secret assassin."

"You won't?"

"I will bring you the knives in the kitchens."

Bucky thought he couldn't fall in love with you more than he already was. But he was wrong.

Bucky could feel his eyes getting glassy. All his fears weren't real. You weren't going to run away and leave him. You wanted to do the thing he believed he could never have. You wanted to share his life with him. You were giving him something nobody ever allowed him. to be himself openly.

Bucky never thought he had good luck. It turned out he had all the good luck in you. And he couldn't be happier.

Bucky was glad they called you.

[starflirts]

dancing in the courthouse with percy jackson with these lyrics from enchanted by taylor BUT WITH A HAPPY ENDING

This is me praying that

This was the very first page

Not where the story line ends

My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again

These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon

I was enchanted to meet you

Please don't be in love with someone else

Please don't have somebody waiting on you

Please don't be in love with someone else

Please don't have somebody waiting on you

there you go lovely!!

percy jackson x reader

The booming music and the crowd of people were starting to get on your nerves. It’s been a couple of hours since you walked into Rachel’s house, your friend nowhere to be seen. She had greeted you as you stepped foot into the house, only to disappear immediately, drawn by the idea of a game of beer pong. On your own in a room full of people who knew each other, you were starting to feel uneasy. You did find some acquaintances as you walked along but none came up and talked to you.

Checking the time on your phone, you planned to stay another half hour and head home afterwards. Tucking the device in your pocket, you made a beeline to the kitchen, set on getting a drink in your system to calm your nerves. As you elbowed your way through the crowded hall, you were met with a broad chest and as you lifted your head, a pair of green eyes.

“Sorry ! Didn’t see you coming” you apologize, shy smile on your lips.

“It’s fine, I probably shouldn’t be hurrying down the hall like this anyway” he answers.

“Are you trying to escape someone or something ?”

“Eh, sort of…” he rubs his neck. “Rachel is trying to set me up with a friend of hers so I’m trying my best to hide. I don’t have the heart to ruin her cupid ideals.”

“Classic Rachel,” you laugh. “you’re lucky she hasn’t found you yet.”

Upon finding the two of you were friends of Rachel and desperately trying to enjoy this party, you immediately seemed to get along.

“I’m gonna get a drink, wanna come with ?”

“Sure ! I also found a quieter spot than the kitchen if you want”

Drinks in hand, you followed him to the place he mentioned. You gave him your name when he asked for it, softly repeating it to himself. His name lingered on your tongue as well while your eyes scanned his face, admiring his green eyes. As you made small talk, your new acquaintance named Percy intently listened to your voice, gaze roaming over your cheekbones, intently looking at the way your hands moved whenever you talked about something you were really into.

Minutes turned into hours and soon enough, all your attention was directed towards Percy. He had so many funny stories and everything he said was captivating. You talked about everything and nothing, from your respective majors to your favorite season. You both seemed to never run out of things to say, the uneasiness of earlier having slipped away and instead being replaced by a warm feeling of comfort. The cups were almost empty and forgotten somewhere as the night went on.

The buzzing of your phone suddenly broke the serene atmosphere surrounding you and Percy. A text of your roommate was an abrupt reminder of how late it was.

“Oh my, I uh, I probably should get going. I didn’t think I’d stay this late !” you smile, standing up.

“Alright, I’ll see you around then ?” Percy’s thankful for the low lighting in the room as he faces you.

“I hope so !”

That same night, long after he’s gone home, Percy is tossing and turning in his bed, the thought of you running through his mind. He regrets not going after you, not asking for your number.

In the following weeks, his hopes of seeing you again were dwindling. He was leaning on the counter of the campus coffee shop he worked at on Tuesday afternoons, sulking when the bell rang. Standing up straight, he opened his mouth to greet the new customer but his voice was caught in his throat.

“Oh hi Percy!”

[wingedcat13]

Princess in a Tower

[Note: this one is *not* Synovus, or any particular prompt. First person, implications of violence and familial abuse, and a one-off for real I promise!]

They have not yet mopped up all the blood, when I enter the throne room.

It is not the first time I have seen the room itself, but it is the first time I’ve had a chance to inspect it. Earlier, it was still filled with the chaos of our siege; the screams of mortal men and metal against metal enough to distract from the pretty mosaics on the walls.

I ignore the remaining smears of viscera. The bodies have been removed, which is the most important bit. They will all be identified, and depending on how well the people they died to defend behave, may even see proper burials. Loyalty is a virtue, even when it is to the wrong people.

Of course, to the people bound and kneeling in this room, I am the wrong people.

As I stalk through them I hear whispers between the sharp footfalls of my sabaton’d boots. Some are muttered prayers, or incoherent cries. The rest are my names and monikers: Domine of the Northern Reach, the Wyvern-Wraith, Death-in-Red. Some get the title wrong, translating it into the local customs, and I am named both ‘Prince’ and ‘Princess’ in an air of confusion. My soldiers will correct them later.

By the time I reach the dais, only one person has been brave enough to utter my given name.

“Elith Frenaye.” Four syllables, but an infinite amount of venom. That’s to be expected. At least the pronunciation is correct.

“Archinard Holbrooke.” I greet the man who was King here only a few hours ago with quiet grace and decorum. As he has dropped my titles, I am under no obligation to grant him his - particularly not when the titles he would expect are no longer his to claim.

The now-former King of Kescil is shorter than I expected, even granting the fact that he’s on his knees. He’s doing his best to keep a straight back, and his chin up, balancing as though he still has to account for the weight of a crown he’s already been relieved of. At nearly sixty, he looks remarkably fit for both his age and status; most nobles are showing their excess by now in unpleasant ways.

Archinard is balding, but he’s taken to it with grace. He isn’t the most muscled man I’ve ever faced down, but he seems to still care for himself. Still has most of his teeth, from what I can see of his sneer. Good. It’s always pathetic to execute someone people can’t even recognize as a king without their robes and jewels.

Archinard also isn’t stupid - he knows that’s his fate. He raises his chin again, and the mental image of him doing that on the headsman’s block is all that keeps me from punching him when he demands, “What have you done with my wife and daughter?”

Steadfast. I remind myself, simply staring at him while I take the time to put myself in order. The fight is over, but my nerves will take days to settle properly. Steadfast. Sure. Serene.

“Nothing yet.” I answer, politely casual as I walk past Archinard. My cape swings into him as I pass, and I swear for a moment he wanted to bite it. Perfect. “Though pretending ignorance won’t help any of you here. Yes, yes, you managed to hide them away from me.”

I turn to face the crowd again, and settle myself into the throne. My voice is steady, unhurried, and unworried, as I add, “For now.”

I don’t clarify that I will find them, or make threats. I don’t need to. There’s a moment where none of the Kescilians even breathe, and saying more would only tarnish that moment of fear. Even Archinard has paled, though his bluster will return in a moment.

Only if he’s given the chance, though, and I don’t intend to grant him that mercy.

I lean back in the throne - my throne, now - and as plush as it is, the thing is damned uncomfortable. Maybe that’s part of why Archinard is the way he is. I’ll never ask. There’s more important things at hand.

“Archinard Holbrooke.” I repeat, and where before my voice was quiet and polite, now it is pitched to carry. I was not born to inherit this throne room, but I was born and raised to a crown. All of that training is evident in the seemingly effortless diction in my voice, a layer of fraying velvet over steel. “You are relieved of the duties of Monarch of Kescil. Your life has been remanded into my care. As I am merciful, I will grant you a choice.”

‘Merciful’ is stretching it, in this instance. The crowd likely expects me to give him a choice of how he’d like to die, or perhaps a chance to try and claim mercy for his Queen and the Princess.

“You may accept these changes with dignity, and retire as Ledan - Lord - Holbrooke, with a moderate compensation from your people, in recognition of your service. Or you may be executed as the last King of Kescil.”

The first offer is tempting, but this isn’t as much of a choice as it appears. Demoting the King to a noble may allow him to think he can reclaim his crown later, but it also opens him to punishment for years of mistreatment by his now-fellow nobles, who do not need to fear a crown’s reprisal. Compensating him from his own treasury makes him complicit, and the common folk won’t forget that he took the chance to run with the gold. Recognition of his service is a joke.

Whether it’s in a rebellion, at the hands of his own vassals, in a common folk mob, or by an assassin, I will see this man dead. It’s only a matter of how long he wants to live, and in what comfort, before the axe - metaphorical or literal - falls. Perhaps I am only offering him a choice of deaths.

“I am a King.” Archinard declares, “So I was ordained, and so I will die.”

The smile I give him in return is bloodless. “As you wish.”

—-

I do not execute Archinard immediately.

If conquest was my true reason for being in Kescil, I would have. My armor was still bloodstained, I had my sword, and the man was already bound and on his knees - it would have been incredibly simple to just end it then and there. But I have promised his death to another, if she wants it, and I will stand by that promise.

My excuse to the masses is that I want to make a ‘proper’ example of him. There are speculations that I want to execute the entire royal family at once, to ensure there are no mistakes, no accidental inheritances. Others think I’m torturing the man for fun behind closed doors.

I have a few retainers who know the truth of my purpose here in Kescil - I keep at least one of them with me, always, as a guard for both my body and my sanity. That first night, the four of us share a room, prepared to sleep in shifts in the parlor of a suite, all piled in the center of the floor.

“Better than camping.” Chirps Valentine, setting up his bedroll on the plush carpet.

“Worse than camping.” Counters Ames, who distrusts the textiles and would prefer a carpet of leaves to sleep on.

Ash doesn’t bother to chime in on that debate, just exchanges looks with me over their heads.

“It is camping.” I tell them both, shoving one end of a couch - there were four of them in this room, four. Not to mention the chairs and cushions and footstools and, ugh - further against the wall. If there were hidden passages, no one would be creeping in easily.

“You know,” Valentine muses from the floor, his head propped on his chin, “I can’t wait to hear the rumors after tonight. What about the rest of you? Fan favorites? Particular conspiracies?”

Ash folds her legs beneath her, and starts stripping off her gloves and boots. “That’s not fair to Elith.” She protests around a mouthful of leather as she struggles with a strap. No one tries to help her; we’ve all learned better. She’ll ask if she needs it. “Given she knows what’s supposed to be spreading.”

“Girl-Prince invades castle, hosts wild orgy in celebration.” Ames announces.

While I’m still wrinkling my nose at that, Valentine smacks Ames with a pillow, “It’s ‘Princess,’ you foghorn, not girl-Prince.”

Ames allows the blow to knock them flat, even though I’ve seen them take much worse without so much as a twitch. “I just repeat what I’ve heard.”

“There’s no way they’re already speculating about her sex life.” Ash disagrees, “We just got here.”

“People always speculate about my sex life.” I correct her wearily. “They call me girl-Prince as an insult, Ames, you know Kescil’s weird about these things. And I were to have a celebratory orgy, I would have invited far nicer company than you three.”

“Ah,” says Valentine, smug, “But would they have accepted? Or would you have been dropping trou with just us-“

“Thank you, Ash.” I say mildly, over the sounds of Valentine being smothered.

“We’ll find her, Elith.” Ames tells me, suddenly serious. The other two stop as well. “You know we will.”

The sudden focus of their attention is more than I can bear right now, even benevolent as it is. I exhale slowly. Steadfast. Sure. Serene.

I manage a smile. “I know we will.”

None of them stop me as I roll my shoulders, checking the fit of my armor is still right. I haven’t taken it off yet, though we did clean the worst of the day’s stains off of it earlier - the rest won’t come out without sanding the chain and plate, and that takes longer than I want to be without it, right now.

“I think I’d like to see more of my new castle.” I remark, purposefully light. “I’m going to go for a walk.”

Ash moves to start replacing her boots and gauntlets, and Ames opens their mouth, but it’s Valentine who’s quickest to his feet.

“I’ll go with you.” He says, cutting off the other two’s chance to claim escort duty. If I let them, they’d still come along, but four people in the halls will have everyone still in the castle up and trying to spy. I’m not certain Valentine and I will avoid that outcome either, but at least we have a better chance.

We walk the halls of the Royal residence, avoiding one particular room. It turns out to be a quiet night.

I don’t sleep at all.

—-

They find the Queen on day three.

We’re taking an early meal in the banquet hall when word comes, carried by a page who’s had to learn the castle’s floorplan faster than anyone else. She skids into the hall, nearly flipping over a bench that’s been left askew by its last inhabitants. When she spots me, she all but climbs over the tables to get to me.

Ames, my companion for the next few hours, is halfway out of their seat with a bread knife before I recognize the page, and settle them with a hand. Even then, they don’t sit, but scan the crowd behind the page, in case she’s being chased.

“Domine!” The page pants, almost throwing herself flat at my feet. “Ser Thorrun sent me, an urgent message. Immediately there and back with a reply, Domine, he seemed sure you’d send one.”

“Peace.” I tell the page, holding out my hand for the message. My food is forgotten - Thorrun is the one in charge of sweeping the castle for any hideaways who are still here. I have four others, each tasked with a different cardinal direction, leading searches in the areas around the castle for those who fled. So far, those searches have only turned up a few servants, and the odd nobleman.

While I read Thorrun’s note, I pass the page a goblet of water. It’s brief -

Q in Weave, A+U.

Rather than send a reply, I rise. The page spills half her water down her front, and looks up at me, gasping. Ames pats her on the back.

“Take me to the Weaver’s quarters, please.” I say. I can only hope it comes across as calm.

—-

A castle goes through a truly preposterous amount of linens. Back home, the weavers and the seamstresses share a compound building, but have separate work spaces they’re free to use as they wish. It leads to arguments and lost items of clothing on occasion, but the Textiline - like a housekeeper, but head of weavers, sewers, spinners, and launderers in the Royal employ - has never complained.

I would be ashamed to show them this place.

Part of it is our fault, yes - hanging curtains are a good place to hide someone with a sword if your opponent is in a hurry, or a moron who doesn’t know to look for boots. The simplest way to avoid that is to prod them with your sword as you pass by, and that leaves a lot of holes. A lot of baskets overturned to ensure no one is crammed inside one.

But there are no windows here, meaning the whole room is lit only by candles, leaving the entire room stuffy and reeking of tallow and lye. The weaver and the seamstress must sit back to back if they hope to have any room at all. There are all sorts of cabinets around, yes, but the doors can’t all be opened at once, and it must be a headache to get anything sorted in here.

But part of the reason for that is evidently because some of these compartments have layers. And behind a second layer rack where garments can be hung, there is another false back, and there is where they found the no-longer-Queen of Kescil.

By the time I arrive, Ser Thorrun has cleared the workers from the area, and has the woman bound, sitting on the weavers’ bench.

“Tabithica.” I greet her flatly. She looks offended to hear her given name. She cannot reply, given the gag. “I presume she still has her tongue.”

The last is directed towards Ser Thorrun, a wiry man who has crammed himself into a corner to give me the space I am due. He glares at Tabithica.

“Wasn’t mine to take.” He grumbles, one hand on his sword hilt. There’s no room to really swing in here, let alone draw, but I appreciate the gesture. And that his other hand is where he can reach a knife.

“So it isn’t.” I agree coolly. A quiet request, denied. This woman is not mine to kill either, but I am holding the privilege for the one who does have that honor.

Thorrun just nods, and takes the hand off his sword hilt to point out where Tabithica was hiding. “I’ve been having some boys pace out the corridors and rooms.” He explained. “Dimensions didn’t add up. None of the mortar looked fresh, so figured there was a hidden something or other back here. Found it.”

I step forward to inspect the place that has been a Royal bolt hole for the past three days. It is rank with ammonia - evidently she did not have anyone to empty the chamber pot, even if they did bring her food. There is a bed, and a quilt, and no one else here.

I knew that. Thorrun would’ve searched the room already, would’ve told me if there were signs of her. But I could not help but look.

“Wait in the corridor.” I tell Thorrun tonelessly. He manages to kneel in the small space, bowing his head to me. He asks no questions.

When Thorrun has left, and Ames has entered in his place - the wrinkle of their nose is brief, and shows they share my opinion of the place - I straddle the end of the bench Tabithica is sitting on.

For a moment, I simply stare at her.

Will she be more likely to give me answers if she thinks I won’t understand them? If I’ve threatened her? Or, like her husband, will she want to gloat and bluster and threaten me in turn?

Something about the gleam in her eyes reminds me of iron.

I reach up one hand, and she remains still rather than flinch away. Her breath quickens a fraction, but she keeps her eyes on me, not my hand. Not fearing or cowering from a blow. Pride? Stubbornness?

The gag comes loose with a simple gesture, and I let it fall as it will, sitting back again to examine this woman who once was Queen.

For a moment, we sit in silence. I will break it eventually, if I must, but for now I am content to study her, as she is studying me in return.

She takes the offensive: “Fighting over scraps now, are you?”

It’s a reference to how my parents had referred to Kescil - a kingdom of scraps, not worth the taking. Economically, they were right. Kescil was never going to have the forces necessary to pose a threat, but they also didn’t have anything our people needed or even wanted. So for years, we let them be, and simply didn’t care whether they lived or died.

“I do not need a reason.” I say softly, and as far as she knows, it’s true. I’ve certainly seemed to kill for less. But an answer like that is still to put myself on the back foot, even with a backhanded threat woven in.

Tabithica bares her teeth, “Thorns and horses, Domine.”

My title is spat with derision, but it is the words that are the insult. Ames stirs behind me, showing the anger that I cannot.

When I was yet young, my father went riding. This was not unusual. He forged through a thicket. This was not unusual. Shortly thereafter, his horse shuddered, and died. And the unhorsed consort found himself set upon by bandits shortly thereafter.

That part was unusual.

Investigations had determined the thicket had been doused in poison it did not naturally produce. Had he taken any scratch from a thorn himself, he would have met the same fate as his horse. Instead, it was a bandit’s dagger that took his life. But the thorns are still what killed him - had the horse lived, he could have outrun them easily.

It’s unlikely the event was arranged by Kescil, but I can’t fault Tabithica for trying to take credit.

“I’m not going to kill you.” I tell her calmly.

She laughs, a thoroughly unhappy sound. “Not yet?”

“No.” I seem to agree. She expects me to threaten her with torture and fates worse than death. “I haven’t killed Archinard yet either.”

I could’ve kept that bit of information from her, but I want to know instead.

There isn’t even a flicker of relief. If anything, Tabithica seems annoyed. Interesting.

“So be it.” She sighs, “I suppose he’s gone and committed us both to dying anyway, then.”

“Where is Galatea?”

Stupid of me, really. But I don’t have time to play games with this woman - I don’t care for or about her, or her husband, and only tangentially about her country. I could’ve tried to come around to it another way, but that would’ve taken time and effort I wasn’t willing to spend on a gamble.

Tabithica looks taken aback for a moment. Her head cocks slightly, considering. Then her expression becomes decidedly vindictive. “Dead.”

Ames stiffens. I do not react.

“That’s a shame.” I inform her, as though I’ve been told the last of a wine vintage has been consumed. “As she is the only one who may bargain for your release.”

Tabithica raises her chin, but I ignore her. Instead, I rise, turning to Ames, and putting my back to the fallen royal.

“Toss the room. Ensure there are no more hidden doors.”

“And her?” Ames asks quietly.

I look over my shoulder, and think again of how small this space is, how lightless, and airless. I meet Tabithica’s gaze.

“Put her back.”

—-

On the fifth day, my inner circle is restless.

We, all of us, know exactly how long a human can survive in depravation, and we are reaching the limits of what an ill-prepared hiding place would provide the missing Princess. With provisions, she could likely last quite some time, but…

None of us have faith that such a hiding place was arranged.

I have stalked the rows of the dead thrice, made a point of speaking to every survivor and servant. My searchers have been cautioned to not be blinded by assumptions of gender, of hair color or cut.

Thorrun’s men have paced out the entirety of the castle. They’ve found a few other hidden holes, but no one within them - living, anyway, one did contain a skeleton from either some long ago siege or murder - and there are fewer and fewer places to look. Younger, agile folk have taken to exploring the rooftops. Every barrel in the storage rooms has been opened, even those that have spoiled fermenting wine or beer.

And I am unspeakably proud of her.

—-

On the seventh day, I finally enter the Princess’s quarters myself.

They’re at the top of the eastern tower, windows facing the dawn. Its light cuts through in thin stripes, divided by the protective bars and slats that prevent any enterprising climber from coming in. Or any desperate princess from throwing herself out.

The stairs are narrow and winding. The walls are only now taking on a hint of dust after a week without tending. There is a dumbwaiter, built into the middle of the tower, but it is at the base level, and empty besides.

I have been avoiding this place. I came through it once, during the initial siege, hoping to find her here - and when we found it empty instead, I’d restricted all access to it. I could say it felt intrusive to walk through her bedroom, to search through her things for clues as to where she might have gone.

But in truth, it makes me furious to see this prison.

Every step feels like a purposeful insult. Every sign of care taken with the carpets and cleaning is another reminder that she must never have been alone. The light of the dawn rising every day to tell her she was still here, could go nowhere else, couldn’t even sleep in-

Enough. There will be recompense.

But the watch heard noises here an hour ago, and that means someone has broken my edict. Possibly, it is a bird that got past the bars, but if it is a person, I’ll at least have a target for my increasingly frantic rage. Because I have not found her. I promised I would. I will.

So yes, my steps grow heavier at the top of the stairs. I am somewhat distracted, scowling, when I open the door and stride into the room.

I pay for my distraction immediately.

The rugs are decorative, lavish, and layered across the stone floor atop the rushes. One of them had been moved, and I had not noticed until it was yanked out from under my feet. My stride is long enough, and I had been moving quickly enough, to avoid being sent back down the stairwell, but even still I lost my footing.

The fall stole my breath. The collision of my head with the floor briefly stole my sight. But I could still feel it when hands grabbed at my legs, pulling the knife from my boot and climbing up my body until its blade could be pressed to my chin.

“Move and I’ll carve out your heart.”

It was a growl more than a sentence. Sounds forced through gritted teeth. My vision was returning, blurry yet, and I could not discern one feature from another. Instinctively, my hand had risen to catch the wrist of the knifehand, and by that grace alone I still had a throat capable of speech.

“My heart is claimed.” I rasped in reply. There was clattering, a shout, from lower down the stairwell - someone must have heard my fall. “The neck you’ve earned, if you’re quick.”

Another growl of frustration - my captor did not wish to be caught, it seemed - and the weight on my chest was briefly removed. I flung myself to the side before it could come back down, knife point first.

Twisting away, I blinked the last of the blurriness from my eyes, and came up on my knees. I found myself looking down at my attacker, who was still sprawled on the rugs she’d used to force me down. Long hair in a messy, ratted braid, a dress with wide skirts that hung oddly, the fear and fury in her voice -

The determination in the wild swing she took for my legs, torquing to move, dragging her legs behind her.

“My heart is claimed by a girl of stone.” I gasp, barely avoiding the knife’s edge. “I’ve come to bring her a fine carriage.”

The woman stops, panting from exertion. When was the last time she ate? Truly slept?

She wavers for several long heartbeats, not dropping the knife. Her voice is watery when she corrects me, “the finest carriage, you idiot. I told you the passphrase was too long.”

—-

I insist on making sure Gal eats and has a chance to bathe before we talk. She insists we speak before she’ll sleep.

Arranged in her wheeled chair, she looks like a portrait half-come to life. The skirts of her dress are tailor made to hide the atrophied legs, to lay nicely in the chair’s confines. Her spine is straight, hands folded, and she does not fidget. She looks more regal than either of her parents ever will, wherever they’ve gotten off to. I’ve stopped caring.

(Ames and Ash are on guard duty, while Valentine runs the word that the Princess has been found. My orders were the inverse, but they decided it was better to have two on guard - this would be the time to kill me, after all.)

“You should’ve told me it was you.” Gal scolds me, picking off a piece of bread to throw at me.

“Like you told me you were the Princess of Kescil?” I retort, blinking involuntarily as it nearly finds its mark.

Gal turns up her nose. “I had to be sure you did not covet my title.”

“And I to be sure you did not wish to trap me.” I reply dryly. There is no sting in my words, though, no true animosity. Nor in hers.

The situation is far from ideal, and I am very aware that I am, in essence at this moment, her captor. But the reality of it all has faded away, because she is here. My Gal is safe.

Maybe my friends were wise to leave two on guard.

She drops the offended act, instead staring at the tablecloth. Her expression turns drawn, and tired. I’m on the verge of trying to convince her to sleep again when she asks,

“How many are dead?”

The thought of lying to her is barely a flicker - I can’t. “Seven hundred and twelve.” I say quietly. “Excluding pending executions, and those who may yet die from their wounds.”

She looks up at me, “And how many of those were your soldiers?”

“Two hundred and five.”

Her gaze drifts away from me, and she is quiet for a moment longer. This time, I leave her to it.

“I killed them.” She says flatly.

“No. I am the one who declared war.”

“Because of me.”

“It was hardly something you asked for.”

“But I am the root cause, am I not?” She glares at me, her tone challenging even as her shoulders start to curl inwards.

“Absolutely not.” My voice is firm. I’ve taken my share of blame for deaths before, and I will consider the two hundred soldiers who died under my command my burden to bear - but the dead of Kescil are not on her head. “If you insist on a root cause, it is the King and Queen who failed Kescil - in ordering their people to fight, in not ensuring they were adequately trained and armed, and-“ my voice gentles, “-in failing their daughter.”

“I put the pen to paper.” She says quietly.

“And I swung the sword. As did they.”

I know it isn’t enough. She’ll wonder how many of their men went to fight in the name of their Golden Princess - the delicate beauty they were taught to treasure and protect. She may never be free of the memories of constant haranguing, that she was helpless and failing her family and nation for faults that were not her own, and the substitutions her mind will make about how she was, in the end, the downfall of her country.

But Galatea Holbrooke was not theirs to keep.

“Well.” She says, after a few more heartbeats of silence. Her voice is brittle at first, but smooths out just as she smooths the tablecloth. “Then I suppose we should discuss terms, Domine Hawk.”

The addition of my title to the pen name I used to write her - chosen after one of my hunting hawks nearly took down her messenger pigeon - is a needling I quite deserve.

“Whatever you desire, Galatea of Kescil.”

She raises her brows at that, “Such trust, Domine. What if I desire your title instead?”

I smile, leaning forward on the table, and for once, I don’t clink. My armor has finally been doffed, and sent for a good proper scrubbing. “Then that can be arranged, though you’ll have to be more specific. I have several.”

“And if I want them all?” She’s leaned forward too, her eyes narrowing.

“In the traditions of the Northern Reach,” I say carefully, suddenly unable to look her in the eyes, “I cannot bequeath my titles to another, nor can they be taken from me by anyone but my Liege. But… they can be shared. With a spouse.”

When I glance back at Galatea again, she’s wrinkled her nose. My hands flex, curling inward as my stomach sinks.

“You just had to go and beat me to it.” She complains, slumping back into her chair. “Six months - six! - to get you to tell me your hair color, but sure, propose within the first three hours we meet in person.”

She groans dramatically, pressing a hand over her eyes, as I slowly straighten. “That’s - not quite an answer.” I hedge, “though I understand if you wish time to consider, of course, circumstances -“

“Circumstances!” Gal snorts, giving up the last of her propriety. “My bird, you cannot possibly have earned your titles by being this shy.”

But there’s a laugh in her voice, and when she uncovers her face, I can see a sparkle in her eyes.

“Do you know what I thought, when I was hiding from your soldiers, not knowing it was you and that I was safe the entire time?”

“About that-“ We still didn’t know how she’d been hidden.

“Oh.” She waved a hand, “There’s a closed off landing about halfway down the shaft, there’s still a ledge inside just large enough for me to fit. I climbed down and back up again.”

Gal shrugs, as though she hasn’t just told me she’s done that with only the strength of her arms, and alone.

“I thought it was a shame I couldn’t even live long enough to tell you to your face that grey is spelled with an e, not an a.”

“It can be either-“ I start, before cutting myself off with a sigh. We’d been over the topic at length before, in previous letters. I’d cut a page out of a dictionary to include it and nearly been banned from my own library.

Gal just tilts her head, and waits. Her hair is loose now, mostly. She’s mentioned wanting to cut it before - I can’t wait to see how short she’ll choose to go.

“It was much less complicated, when I was simply your Hawk.” I admit quietly.

“And when I was a simple village Gal? Neither of us were exactly spy material, you know. Where would I have learned to read as a village child? Where would you have found paper and books as a hunter’s child?”

I can’t help but laugh, “Some things we just wanted to believe. But there is a difference, between a noble and the heir to a country. I promised you my help when you thought I had little more than a bow and a hunting bird - and I meant it.”

She sighs, “And I just wanted you to know who I was, before I disappeared.”

Her final letter to me had been written in haste, explaining that she could no longer lead me on, and that all contact between us had to end. She’d signed it with her full name - the first she’d ever used it. When word came that the King of Kescil had decided on a suitor for his daughter, I understood.

But then, from Gal’s letters, I knew a lot more about the King than I suspected most of his subjects had.

“I knew who you were, Gal.” I assure her, and watch her eyes widen before she catches my meaning. “I just didn’t know your full name.”

“As I knew you.” She agrees, “Enough to know you’d be foolish enough to show up if I asked you to.”

“It seemed… prudent.” I say, tracing a pattern on the tablecloth. “And if you want, I will leave. I can’t bring back your army, but I can leave a contingent of soldiers-“

“Elith.” She says, exasperated, and the sound of her voice saying my name freezes me in place. “You promised me the world, little bird. Did you mean that too?”

“I did.”

“Then I do.”

“…what?”

She rolls her eyes at me. “I’ll marry you, Death-in-Red, Wraith-Wyrven, and whatever else it is you call yourself. Because my heart was claimed by a hunting bird, and I’ll not let it fly away.”

Her half of the phrase to identify ourselves to each other, if we ever did meet.

“After all.” She says, picking at her bread again, “You did fight a war for me.”

—-

[Thank you for reading! If you’ve enjoyed, consider checking out my other writing, both here on tumblr and on Ao3! You’ll find links in my pinned post on my blog, if I haven’t come back to update them here.]

[mangoshorthand]

I just saw your little post, I'm sorry I didn't clarify. Yes, I am a cis woman and I have more of a swimmer's body (I've been a swimmer for years so it's partially natural and partially conditioned) with wider hips and broad shoulders (typical swimmer long legs too). I hope this helps and sorry for such an inconvenience 😅

- birthday anon 🎂🎉

Original request, (paraphrased):

It's my birthday today and I was wondering if I could get a happy birthday from Five. I guess my prompt would be that throughout my life a lot of people forget my birthday (even my family) and often don't show up so if Five just remembered and decided to be soft and sensual and caring, that would make me the happiest person ever.

No problem Birthday Anon. Sorry this took a couple of days. Happy belated birthday! Also I made you a barista sooo...enjoy that I guess.

The Birthday Girl | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader 2.8k words, Rated E

Being born at the start of the year was always a harsh reminder of the fact that you weren’t the main character of all existence, something which it took most people much longer to realize.

It was worse when you were a kid, with Christmas and birthday presents amalgamated into one by relatives already stressed out from gift-buying, but it still kind of stung as an adult. Yeah, people had lives and it was a tricky time of year, but you surely didn’t need to be the main character of all existence to have people simply show up for your birthday. 

It was a nice place, you thought, glumly as you popped the olive from your martini into your mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. Not too crowded, the music loud enough to dance to without prohibiting conversation. The drinks were cheap and good quality. It would have been the perfect place for a birthday get together. 

You sighed and rested your elbows on the bar. You should have got the picture by now. You were a full grown adult, you knew how it went, and yet you still foolishly invited all your friends and even some family out. 

You’d never imagined that all of them would come, but you thought that at least a few would turn up. Over the past week, as you’d expected, they’d nearly all messaged their excuses and apologies and dropped out. For some, it was too close to going back to work after their christmas break, some were still away, while others were still recovering from New Year and unable to face the idea of partying again so soon.

You didn’t really blame those guys, (at least they had the decency to inform you that they weren’t coming), but you couldn’t help feeling angry at the no-shows who hadn’t even bothered to inform you, leading to you sitting alone in this bar, all dressed up for nothing.

“Hey.”

You turned your head, surprised to hear any voice addressing you. 

“Five,” you said, smiling nervously in greeting.

This was not what you’d planned. He was your favorite customer and he said you made the best coffee in the city, but could you call him your friend? Did two years of late-night coffee twice a week count as a friendship?

He usually came in on one of your late shifts, looking immaculately dressed but gray with exhaustion. At first, he hadn’t talked, just drinking his coffee in silence and leaving with a murmur of thanks and a generous tip, but over time he’d been more receptive to your gentle offers of conversation, and gradually he’d shown up primarily to talk, sitting at the counter as you worked, sipping endless cups of coffee and keeping you company. 

What he hadn’t told you himself, you’d put together from snippets of conversation. You knew about the Umbrella Academy and the apocalypse, but it didn’t really factor into your picture of him. To you, he was just Five: the amusing mix of pessimism, wit, and an old man’s nostalgia for times past incongruous with the body in its twenties.  

Over the time you’d known him, he’d grown into your life easily. He had you looking forward to your late shifts and spending the time between them making mental notes of things to tell him next time you saw him.

Your conversations with him were easy and intimate (you’d told him a few things you wouldn’t tell your diary on your deathbed), but the relationship was still this weird, context-bound thing. He was the customer, you were the server.  

He’d surprised you into inviting him to this little get-together a couple of days before new year. It was your first late shift after Christmas, and when he’d arrived and taken up his usual perch at the counter, one of his first remarks was:

“It’s your birthday coming up in a day or two, right?”

“Uh,” you faltered, “Um - yeah.”

He looked at you doubtfully. 

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“No, it is. I’m just surprised, is all. People always forget.”

Five shrugged.

“You told me last year. You swapped shifts to go out for dinner.”

“And you remembered that?”

“Yeah.”

It touched you, the way he spoke so casually, as if he couldn’t possibly do anything but remember this about you. So you invited him to come tonight, hoping he’d say yes but not read too much into it.

For months, maybe longer, you’d been wondering, and his attitude then was the thing that pushed you to find out once and for all.

You had to know for sure whether this was something: whether you and he would be the same in a different environment, or whether this thing would just crumble to nothing outside of the diner’s soft-lighting.

It would be a good test, you thought, and having other people there would act as a buffer in case of any awkwardness. 

In this, you had been thwarted, because now he stood beside you, looking more smart-casual than you’d ever seen him, frowning in a gray blazer over a dark tee.

“Well…happy birthday,” he said, dumping a giftbag on the bar with a clunk that signaled a bottle inside, “it’s rum. You said you liked mojitos.”

“Thanks,” you said, nodding, as he sat on the barstool beside you. 

He took a quick glance around, intelligent green eyes taking stock of the bar. 

“Is it just us?” he asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow in a way that made you chuckle.

“Yup,” you smiled, ruefully, “most people canceled, but there were three who just haven’t remembered to show up. I told them to meet me an hour ago, but no word.”

He frowned again, so you offered a little explanation:

“People forget when your birthday’s just after the holidays.” and then, with a smile at him, added, “Except you, of course.”

“Hm,” he said, with an air of contemplation, perhaps reflecting on why you’d told him to meet you later than everyone else. Seeming to dismiss it, however, he turned back to you:

“So you’re stuck with me?”

You looked back over at him, and a smirk developed on his face, one corner of his mouth turning up to complement his cocked eyebrow. 

And in that moment, you made a decision, one that was two years in the making. Why play these games? Why experiment with him? Worst case scenario, he could just find another diner. 

“It’s stupid to be here with only two of us. Do you want to come back to mine? Maybe we crack open that rum and help me drown my birthday sorrows? I only live on the next street.”

***

The rum was never opened, because on the street outside your apartment, he stopped you with a hand on your arm.

He’d been silent ever since he agreed to come with you, and when you turned to face him outside your door, he fixed you with such a serious look that you took in a shallow breath.

“Sorry if I make this awkward, but I gotta know. Is this just a drink?”

You looked back at him, studying the earnest slope of his brow and his tense mouth; how two freckles disappeared into a small cleft in his cheek. It was a face that surrendered smiles reluctantly, but you could nearly always tease several out before the end of any shift. 

You shook your head wordlessly.

His adam's apple bobbed in his throat. His eyes, so often scowling, scathing or sardonic, fixed you now with a look of pure, open adoration. His thick lashes did nothing to shade you from the intensity of that look, from the opalescent green of pupils that pulled at you with such fascination. 

When he spoke, his voice was very low.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, unable to keep your eyes on his face, choosing to study the neckline of his tee, beneath which a hint of sturdy collarbone was visible.

He reached out and gently ghosted his fingers down your cheek. 

“How could anyone forget your birthday?” he murmured. 

Then, he leaned forward and kissed you.

The chill January breeze momentarily played about your neck. A shiver ran through you, but not from cold: from his gentle lips against yours; from the feel of his soft hair between your fingers; from his body close to yours. 

Sweet, chaste and cherishing, it might have seemed platonic, that kiss, but for the way his tongue slipped briefly into the fray, though pulling back quickly: showing you that he had more should you wish to take it.

And you did. You wanted it to the point that you chased his lips when he tried to pull away. He smiled at this and let you catch him, letting your lips part his and your tongue enter his mouth. 

Finally, he succeeded in breaking the embrace, though leaving his hands softly on your hips.

“Take me upstairs?” he asked, huskily.

***

His mouth beside your ear, he held you on his lap like a beautiful fragile thing. He ran his fingers reverently up and down your thighs, like a servant privileged to touch precious silverware with kid gloves. 

He kissed you again, soft and syrupy, as if he was eating fruit perfectly sweetened on the vine, trailing his lips down your shoulder and humming with satisfaction.

 “God,” he whispered, “I could kiss you all day.”

The tender hunger in his tone sent a tingle straight to your core. 

It was a shame to have your back to him. When he’d thrown off his shirt as if it was nothing, your eyes drank him in: the softly defined muscles that were outlined by his movements and the trail of sparse, dark hair disappearing below his waistband. All this time, under those sharply cut suits, there was this.

But you couldn’t focus on the regret too much, not with his strong forearms wrapped around your naked body, his smell of antiperspirant and aftershave, and not with the heat of his hard arousal against your ass and lower back. 

His fingers clearly stated their intent against your inner thigh, pausing an inch away from where you needed him most. 

“May I?” he asked, breath tickling your ear. 

You could hear a little hint of mischief in his voice; the ironic move of his eyebrows.

“Yes please,” you breathed.

“Anything for the birthday girl,” he whispered, nuzzling briefly at your neck.

And he stroked your outer lips with gentle fingers, his index trailing back up your slit, the tip skimming slickness that had already gathered there.

He made an appreciative sound at his discovery, and you moaned at the throb of pleasure from just this teasing movement, bucking against him and momentarily pressing his cock against you more firmly.

“You’re so pretty,” he rasped into your ear, fingers parting your outer lips to reach your excited nub and stroking it in smooth, luxuriant circles, “look at you. So perfect.”

You whimpered and tossed your head helplessly against his shoulder. Heat was already building in your sex, toes curling against your sheets.

The foundations for your orgasm were laid from his very first touch of your aching pussy, your body crying out for him from the moment he kissed you. Now, you were helpless to his fingers: as confident and efficient in rubbing your needy clit as in all his other movements. 

“You deserve to be treated special.” he whispered, “This good?”

“Five.” 

“Yes?”

“Five.”

You could hardly say more, brain scrambling like beaten eggs until no vocabulary remained but the name of the man whose fingers were making come slowly drool down your thighs.

“Want me to stop?” he whispered, tenderly.

You shook your head fiercely. 

“Fi-ive!” you whined again, becoming completely inarticulate now as his ankles hooked around yours, holding your legs open gently. He could sense you beginning to ride your edge, could surely sense the heat burning and coiling and tightening in your stomach until - 

You cried out when you came, feeling more come gush from you, soaking his fingers and your thighs alike. He spoke softly to you as the waves of pleasure broke on you one by one, each bringing a fierce buck of your hips backwards against his hard, hot cock, sandwiched between you.

“That’s it.” he encouraged, “There you go. Feel good, sweetie?” 

You could do nothing but whimper and let yourself be carried by the rapture, surges exploding down each limb again and again.

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

Your orgasm subsided, leaving you panting against him. 

Through your recovery, he whispered more tender affirmations and praise into your ear, kissing and nosing at the side of your neck as he tried to distract himself from the tingles going up and down his length and the precome still leaking from his tip. It was difficult: your movements against him were teasing his excited cock. 

After you caught your breath, you became aware of the needy way he was kissing you; of the barely-there grinding of his pelvis; of his dick rubbing against you.

“Can I -?” came the desperate, half-articulated whisper.

“Yes please,” you replied.

He laid you down as if you were fragile, like an injured dove held in cupped hands. His gentle movements offered a stark contrast to the state of his gorgeous, curved cock. The tip was an angry pink, his balls high and tight with arousal.

Intrigued, you began to caress that heated, swollen part of him. He hissed as you weighed and massaged his balls in one hand, the other closing around his shaft, already slick with precome.

“Don’t judge my stamina based on this, okay?” he said, voice cracking as his neck arched along with your strokes, “How about you stop that and we can try for quality over quantity?” 

It was spoken with self-consciousness that seemed unnecessary to you, given that he’d just rubbed your clit to a thigh-trembling orgasm quicker and more effectively than anyone you’d ever been with. You let his cock go and kissed him on the mouth as he lowered himself towards you. 

When he entered you, his mouth was still on yours, and you felt his sigh or relief against your lips. 

He filled you perfectly, your plush walls immediately gripping him, surrendering him reluctantly as he withdrew. You could see the tight pinch between his eyebrows. His eyes were already screwed shut. 

“Oh.”

The whisper was small and strung out, and you kissed his cheek and lips to encourage him as he let out a few, trembling breaths. 

“That feel good?”

“Yeah,” you gasped, “it feels good, Five. 

His strokes were slow, but skillful, his hips rutting with gentle fluidity. 

“I want to make you feel good,” he whispered, stroking your cheek, “I want to show you how special you are.”

From the movement of his body alone, you would have imagined him in complete control, not even close to his edge, but his increasingly fevered whispers and messy kisses to your lips and neck told a different story.

“Your pussy is so good. It’s so fucking wet.”

You kissed him back, nodding and moaning in affirmative as that perfect curve rubbed you just right inside, the low tempo building an ache as sweet and gentle as his thrusts. You gasped, pulsing around him, and his hips stuttered for the first time.

“F-fuck.” he breathed, “So hot. So perfect.”

He tensed.

“I’m close.”

You smiled against his ear. You were on birth control and you knew enough about Five to know that he didn’t raw-dog every barista who made him a good cup of coffee. It wasn’t logical or sensible but it was the only thing that seemed right after two years of illogical, foolish denial. 

“Come inside me.”

“You sure?”

You barely had time to confirm it to him before he let out an inarticulate cry. His dick pumped hard inside you, coating your walls with his load with his head buried in your neck, still keeping you gasping throughout with controlled, gentle, sensuous pumps of his pelvis.  

***

“You want coffee?”

You lay, bare-breasted on his chest as Five combed his fingers through your hair, feeling warm, content, and glowing from his tenderness. 

“Let me get it for a change.” he said.

“Wow, it really is my birthday,” you teased. 

You heard a short exhale of laughter as he extracted himself gently from the bedsheets. 

“Sure is.”

And, with as little care for his nakedness as if this was his own apartment, he headed across the bedroom, turning back at the door with a wry smile.

“And it’s not over yet.”

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed): @thebearmage, @nevbrooke-555, @fiannee, @abeeabee6969

Megalist

Request info + rules

I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See request info + rules for request status and more.

[emotionoitme]

human, for a minute

part three of about a girl

read part two here

carmy berzatto x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of a stalker, mutual pining feels, crying, carmen in denial, a hint of steaminess

wc: 4.7k

a/n: angst chapter!!!!! i hope i make u all cry >:) please leave me a comment to let me know what you think! <3 i’ll be posting a spotify playlist link on my page for the series soon. if you’re enjoying the story stay tuned for one more part!

shame - human, for a minute

the phone rings again, for what seems to be the fiftieth time, blaring through the restaurant in a piercing shrill. clamor of utensils and dishware, the occasional shout of instruction breaking the static noise. the man feels a headache creeping on, trying to force himself to not check the clock again. it hadn’t been long since he last checked it, and he knew he would regret it the moment he did. his eyes dart upwards. it’s 1:35. 

she wasn't supposed to come in until 3, scheduled to close that night, he reminds himself. in that moment he craved the sense of peace she brought to the environment, the noticeable ease in dinner services within the past five months of her employment reasserting her essentiality. orders were smoother, customers were happier, shifts seemed shorter. he also found it thoroughly grounding to be able to look up from his work, through the expo window and watch her for just a moment, not that he would admit to it. he had dropped her off at home on his way to the restaurant that morning, watching her walk up her complex stairs clad in a white shirt and a pair of hanes, both borrowed, and noticeably oversized. 

he cuts back to his task at hand, setting a plate down, drizzling a sauce over the surface, not checking the clock. 

he thinks back to when he had gently woken her hours earlier. slipping out of bed at the sound of his alarm, hand groggily coming to rub his face, making his way to the bathroom. he practically forgot she was there in his tired haze, the memories of the night flooding back to him when he returned to the bedroom, staring at her sleeping form. his heart inexplicably ached at the sight as he gently opened his dresser drawers, beginning to get ready for work. he dresses, mentally rattling off things that need to be done at the restaurant, running his hands through his unruly bed head. he brushes his teeth, locates his keys and wallet, and puts on his socks all before making his way back over to the sleeping girl. 

he wanted to leave her there, come back home and find her waiting there just for him. the man checked the time on his phone, nearing 7 o’clock. he leans over the bed, placing a hand on her side and lightly rubbing. she shifts, blinking awake, meeting his eyes. 

“hey,” he greets softly, brushing her hair behind her ear, resting his hand on her for a moment. she sleepily smiles, eyes bleary. 

“morning,” she responds quietly, looking him over, “you gotta go?” 

he nods, internalizing his disappointment, removing his hand from her hair. 

“okay,” she responds, rubbing her eyes, “i’ll get up.” she slowly sits up, holding the blanket to her bare chest, trying to blink away the sleepiness. carmy notices the slight sway in her seated form, eyes heavy, watching a small shiver pass over her. 

“you can stay,” he tells her, “go back to sleep if you want.”

she looks up to his standing form, tempted to accept his offer, wanting nothing more than to stay cozied up in a bed that smells like him. she rationalizes the situation, though, tying her hair up out of her face. she wasn’t going to overstay her welcome, telling herself, he’s just trying to be nice. 

“you’re not scared of me snooping through your stuff?” she asks, eyebrow raising a bit. he lets out a laugh, slightly taken aback by her question. 

“would you?” he asks. 

she thinks for a moment, head tilting.

“probably not…but you would never know if i did,” she answers, grinning. he smiles in amusement, quickly raking his eyes over her face, trailing down to her collarbones, shoulders, exposed back. 

“do you think you could take me home?” she asks, “on your way to work?”

“yeah,” he answers, “yeah, of course.” to which she smiles in response. 

she goes to get out of bed when she remembers her nudity concealed by the sheet, pausing, embarrassment evident on her face. he smiles at her hesitation, the girl acting as if he hadn’t seen her stark naked the night before. she turns to him, “can i also borrow something to wear home?” she asks, “please? i wanna get back in bed.” 

in that moment he couldn’t fathom saying no to her, immediately grabbing her a few things she could choose from, her selecting a plain white shirt and a pair of his checkered boxers. she gets out of bed, skin raised in goosebumps from the chill morning, slipping his shirt over her head, then walking past carmen to the living room, searching for her discarded panties. the man watched her, entranced, surprised at how viscerally affected he was at the sight. he loved the way she looked in his clothes, debating telling her to keep them forever. 

he tries to ignore the implications of their time together, as he stands over the finished plate, phone on the wall still ringing. 

“hands!” he calls, moving away from the dish, wiping his hands on the rag draped over his shoulder.

fuck, he thinks, what am i doing?

everything had been moving so fast— having told himself prior he wouldn’t pursue her at all, let alone invite her to stay the night wrapped in his arms, mind completely clouded with the thought of her. he thinks to his initial intention, a quick hookup, something to help him let off some steam, alleviate the pressure that built within him the second he laid eyes on her. it didn’t alleviate anything, though, finding himself stuck on the thought of her more now than ever. 

“fuck, can i get some hands, please?” carmen yells out, already busied by the next task, eyebrows furrowed and jaw tight. 

it was like he was trying to quit a drug by injecting it directly into his veins, incessantly tortured by his inner dilemma surrounding her. it was apparent to many that the restaurant required her help, especially amidst a rush much like the one happening now. he knew this. knew that she couldn’t continue to work here if the two of them were to grow closer than they already had, their current relationship being a major conflict of interest, to say the least. 

gotta put an end to it, he tells himself, chest tightening at the thought. he shakes this away, takes a deep breath and refocuses himself on his work. he glances up at the clock again. an hour left. he rips his eyes away, mentally chastising himself. 

i have to tell her today, the thought creating a sinking in his stomach. 

—

she flings open the heavy metal door, quickly finding safety inside, heart rapidly beating from her rushed pace. she lets out a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. she walks further inside, opening a locker and setting her bag down, zoning out for a second, deeply perturbed by what she had experienced on her commute. 

“hey, welcome in,” she hears a chipper voice, turning to see sydney. 

“hey. thanks chef,” she responds softly, taking a moment to process the simple greeting, tying her hair back out of her face. the girl, heavy in thought, slowly makes her way to the front of store, passing by carmen’s office, his door ajar. 

“hey, chef,” she hears him call out to her. she pauses, turning to the seated man. 

“hi,” she gently greets, attempting to silence the waver in her tone. she pauses, looking at him, debating to tell him what happened. 

“you okay?” he asks, concern on his face. she decides to shake it off, wanting to get through this shift without any tears, go home, crawl under her covers and never come out again. 

“yeah,” she nods, “i’m okay.”

carmen keeps the same expression, tilting his head slightly, not fully believing her. she looks away from him, feeling as if by locking eyes she would bare her soul. he narrows his gaze, studying the girl, and she feels herself cracking. 

“i’ll tell you later,” she compromises, crossing her arms.  

“okay,” he accepts, nodding, eyeing her form before she turns to walk to the front of house.

the man feels a slight churn in his stomach, wondering if she would beat him to the conversation he wanted to initiate. except she had looked pale, almost like she had seen a ghost. he rubs his hand over his face, leaning back in his chair, letting out a heavy sigh. 

the dinner shift that night was hectic beyond belief. broken dishes, incorrect tickets, increased waiting times— the kitchen was tense, carmen rounding off orders, sydney bustling back and forth between stations to assist. the usual rhythm the dinner crew seemed to fall into proved to be virtually nonexistent. the young woman at the front blamed herself for his, her head completely out of it tonight. she had punched in orders wrong, mixed up drink requests, misplaced seating sections. she brought her hand up to rub her forehead, trying to fix an error she had entered into their system, brain pulsing with a headache. she refused to check the clock, knowing she must be only four or five hours in at this point. her brain felt foggy, clouded by the jarring things that had been said to her on her walk to work.

i’ll get some cold water and go take a breath in the back, she thinks, trying to mentally encourage herself through the shift. she quickly walks to the back, trying to be as fast as she can, squeezing through the kitchen and darting for the back room. her body feels hot, panicked, as she nears the last turn.

“corner!” she hears all too late, slamming face first into a firm chest, the impact knocking the air out of her lungs for a moment. 

“shit!” he curses, tightly grabbing her hips on instinct to steady her. she lets out a labored breath, bringing her head up to her forehead, pounding even harder. she looks up to meet carmy’s gaze, embarrassment on her face.

“corner, chef?” he asks, brow creased, letting his hands linger for a moment before letting go of her. 

“i’m sorry, chef,” she breathes out, tears brimming at her eyes, a waver in her tone. the frustration on his face is replaced by a look of concern, bringing his hand to touch her arm. 

“hey,” he says softly, “you alright?” 

she takes a deep breath, knot heavy at the back of her throat. 

“i’m alright,” she answers gently, “i just need a second.”  

he softly says her name, deeply searching her eyes as if they would present to him all her troubles. 

“i just don’t wanna think about it right now,” she whispers, lip beginning to tremble. 

“okay, sweetheart, that’s fine,” he reassures her, the name slipping off his tongue unintentionally. she wants to cry, dive into his arms hearing his soft tone, quickly wiping a tear before it can slip down her face. 

“why don’t you go sit in the office, huh? take a breather,” he suggests. 

she nods, looking down to her shoes. he gives her arm a soft pat before removing it altogether, walking past her to the kitchen. the sight of her anguish was admittedly difficult for carmen to see, his mind rattling with possibilities of what could be upsetting her so badly. he waited in anticipation for closing time, trying to keep a close eye on the girl throughout the night, who seemed to be falling back into rhythm after her short break. the last three hours of business wrapped up quickly, staff numbers dwindling more and more as the night progressed. carmy spent the last thirty minutes of the night in his confined office, sorting through licenses and finalizing next week’s schedule into the system. he turns the computer off, closing his eyes for a moment to alleviate the strain he felt, reveling in the quiet. rising from the chair and stretching, he walks through the small office door, turning the corner to come into the kitchen. his eyes land on her, wiping the pristine flat top with a dry rag. she looks up at the movement, hard gaze softening at the sight of him. 

“hey,” she greets softly, “i’m all done. just finishing the counters.”

“looks great, thank you,” he returns, nodding. she gives a small smile at the praise but he can still notice a heaviness upon her demeanor, eyes more dull than they usually are. 

“i’m, uh, just gonna smoke,” he continues, “then i’ll take you home, alright?”

she nods. “thank you,” meeting his gaze, drifting her eyes over his incredibly handsome face. she doesn’t make any small talk, drying the last wet spot and walking to the back to toss the dirty towel in a hamper. carmen walks back into his office, removing his apron and pulling his wallet, keys, cigarettes from the drawer. he then switches off the small desk lamp, coating the room in thick darkness. he emerges towards the glow of the kitchen fluorescents, the girl washing her hands, drying them, and walking to retrieve her belongings out of a locker. they silently make their way outside, carmy turning off the lights behind them and shutting the back door. they both revel in the fresh air of the cool night, a sense of serenity in the silence that engulfed the alleyway. he hears her take a deep breath, fishing a cigarette from his carton and placing it in between his lips. he shoves his hand into his pocket, finding only his wallet and keys. he checks his other one, then the back pockets. 

“fuck,” he swears, head falling back against the metal door, nerves pricking with inclination. he turns to the non-smoker in a glimpse of yielding hope, “you got a light?” he asks. she stares forward, fixated on the same point, leaning against the same door. it takes her a second for her to meet his eyes in a glance, her response delayed 

“lighter? uh, yeah i think,” she answers, beginning to dig through her bag. she pulls out a bright blue bic, and he chuckles in relief. she hands it to the man, his fingers sliding over hers as he takes it from her. carmy ignites the flame, bringing it to the tip of the cigarette and deeply inhaling, a noticeable tension subsiding within him. he goes to hand the lighter back to her.

“keep it,” she tells him, bumping her shoulder against his lightly. he smiles, pocketing the blue object. 

“thank you,” he responds, genuinely, taking another long drag. the two share a beat of silence, the girl unmoving from her position, shoulder flush against his. a breeze sweeps through the street, calm after the storm. 

he clears his throat. 

“so you, uh, gonna tell me what happened?” his tone soft, keeping his eyes trained forward. he feels her deeply inhale, mentally preparing himself for the worst. she thinks for a moment, piecing together her explanation. a cloud of smoke seeps through the alleyway from carmen. 

“you know how i used to work at ricky’s?” she starts. he glances at her, nodding. “well, um,” she continues, “there was this regular that we had, some older guy. he was always there during my shifts,” she hesitates, “and, uh, he turned out to be kind of a creep.”  

carmen turns to her, watching her closely now. 

“like, he would wait for outside for me until i was off and try to talk to me,” she explains, voice beginning to strain, “and, uh, he got my phone number somehow? and started sending me these terrible messages.” the man holds her in an unwavering gaze, his jaw tightening. he takes a drag of his cigarette, watching her. 

“so, i got a new number,” she clarifies, “and uh, a new job,” glancing at him, “and everything stopped.” her eyes start to brim with tears. 

“okay,” he encourages, eyebrows deeply furrowed, but tone soft and sweet. he stubs his cigarette out, tossing it. she takes a shaky breath. 

“and then this morning i was walking here,” quickly bringing her hand up to wipe a stray tear, “and this truck pulled up next to me,” her throat grows tight and hot, “and it was him, carmy,” she lets out in a sob. he instinctively pulls her into his arms, wrapping around her tightly, resting his head on hers. his gaze was fixated behind the girl on the ground, a hot wave of anger burning beneath his skin. 

“what happened?” he asks, an urgency in his words. 

she buries her face into his chest, slightly shaking, tears soaking his white shirt. 

“he said all these…horrible things to me,” she sobs out, grabbing onto him as if he were her lifeline. he puts his hand on her hip, pulling back slightly to look at her, worry spread over his features, tears pouring down her cheeks, face flushed. 

“hey,” he says in a concerned tone, her puffy eyes coming to meet his. carmen tightens the arm around her back, whispering her name, “what did he say to you, baby?” he really never means to call her that, it just slips out. 

she bites back a sob, wishing she could melt into the man— escape from everything, remain engulfed in the soothing warmth of his safety forever. 

“i can’t, carmy,” she cries, shaking her head. he feels a pit in his stomach, anxiety prickling through his body. 

“okay,” he concedes, nodding, “that’s okay, you don’t have to right now.” he scans her face, bringing a hand to her cheek and gently wiping the tears from her eyes. 

“you don’t have anything to worry about now,” he tells her, voice low, “i’m gonna take care of you, okay? that fucko isn’t gonna come anywhere near you,” he asserts, gripping her tightly. 

“okay,” she whispers, the weightless feeling of the tremendous fear alleviating in her chest. 

“let’s get you home, yeah?” he asks her, watching the girl shut her eyes, nodding, a few stray tears rolling down her cheek and sliding off her jaw, bringing her sleeves up to dry them. carmy keeps his hand wrapped around her hip, turning to slowly walk her to the car. he felt an overwhelming possessiveness clouding his rationality— an unyielding urge to do whatever he can to protect her, the thought of another man even looking at her wrong electrifying him with anger. they arrive at the passenger’s side, carmy opening the door for her and helping her into the car as she mutters a soft thanks. he closes her door, letting out a deep sigh, plagued by indecision, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the dark car window. the answer would be incredibly simple had he chosen to go with his heart, but carmen was reluctant in trusting something that had previously brought him only distraction and turmoil. he’s gonna be logical about this, he decides, reassuring himself no good boss should be fucking around with his young employees. he wanted to be a good man to her, too, feeling undeserving of her attention, her loving gaze. he makes his way to the driver’s door, getting into the car. he starts the ignition, pulling out of the alleyway into the street, turning in the direction of her apartment. the short ride was quiet, the exception of a few spare sniffles sounding from the girl. a soft melody played on the radio, drowning out the hum of the road. he glances to her, the girl’s gaze fixed on the passing surroundings outside her window. he turns down the music, slightly. 

“you did good today,” he praises, impressed by her resilience. she lets out a scoff. 

“i cried in your office for like ten minutes straight,” she responds, watching the light of the moving street lamps bleed together. 

“i know,” his voice gentle, low, “i’m still proud of ‘ya,” he tells the sulking girl. she finds herself start to smile very softly at this, the man’s words warming the chill she had felt since being approached by the strange man. he slowly pulls up to her complex, shifting the gear into park, the girl undoing her seatbelt. 

“carm,” she calls, directing the man’s attention to her, eyes expectantly meeting hers. she feels at a bit lost for words, unsure of how to express the tremendous gratitude she felt for him, how to express to him how much she feels she needs him. so instead she just leans forward, throwing her arms around the man, burying her head into his neck. he lets out a breath at the unexpected touch, wrapping his arms around her, bringing a hand up to grasp the back of her neck. 

“thank you,” she whispers into him, “for everything.” 

his heart clenches, a deep ache growing in his chest. 

“you shouldn’t thank me,” he softly responds, holding her close to him, feeling entirely unworthy of the gratitude, knowing soon enough he would have to hurt her— end things completely. 

she pulls back, bringing her forehead to his, closing her eyes. 

“come inside?” she asks him, breath gracing his lips, “please,” she pleads. 

carmen’s eyes flutter shut, sliding his hand from the back of her neck to the side, grabbing, savoring her sweet scent. he feels something ignite within him touching her like this, nose brushing against hers. he wants so badly to lean forward, engulf her lips in his, taste her. he lets out a groan, forcing himself to pull away from her, dropping his hand from her neck. he sighs, hesitating for a moment, fighting against every urge within him. 

“i, uh… i can’t,” he tells her, drawing his gaze away from her, towards the illumination of his headlamps on the asphalt. she presses her hands onto the center console, turning and leaning over it to the man. she brings a hand to his face, pulling him in slightly, dipping her head into his neck to gently pepper kisses along his skin. her hand slides to his firm chest, pressing into him. his head falls back, clenching his jaw, rationality crumbling rapidly beneath her lips. 

“please, carmy,” she prays into his skin, “come make me feel better,” biting to leave a small mark. he feels hot from the inside out, blood rushes through him, a growing pulse beneath his pants. he takes a deep breath, trying to recenter himself, focus on anything but the feeling of her against him. he says her name, sternly, the girl pulling away at his tone, meeting his gaze. he shuts his eyes tightly, running a hand over his face. 

i guess it’s now or never. 

“we, uh… we can’t,” he sighs, pausing, piecing his words together. “we can’t do this anymore.” 

her expression remains flat, brows slightly furrowed. 

“do what?” she asks carefully, sitting back in her seat, away from him. he just looks at her, implication in his silence. her brows set further, biting her lip to stop it from trembling. the look in her eyes is almost disbelief, a gnawing forms deep within carmen’s stomach. she shakes her head, slightly.

“where is this coming from?” she asks, voice quiet. he can’t bring himself to meet her eyes in the moment. 

“i don’t want this to go… too far,” he hesitates, throwing her a quick glance, “I don't-,” pushing his hair back, taking a breath. she brings her hand to rest on his, moving closer. 

“i don’t want to hurt you,” he admits, locking eyes with her, finding serenity in the depths of her irises, his shoulders noticeably untensing, leaning further in towards her when he doesn’t mean to. she scoots closer, her hands cold on his, falling deeply into his cerulean gaze. he selfishly pulls her into him, once more, strong arm coming to wrap around her, holding her against him, her arms coming to clutch his shirt. he smells her sweet perfume, deeply inhaling, feeling almost human for a moment. she pulls back just slightly, her cheek brushing against his, coming to rest her forehead against his once more, almost as if it would ease the pain. she shuts her eyes, inching impossibly closer, eager to feel him pressed against her. 

“i don’t want you to either,” she whispers, tears burning behind her tightly shut eyes. his hand comes up to the base of her neck, carding his fingers up through her hair, softly grabbing. she sighs against his lips, yearning. 

so close. 

hearts pounding, skin hot, faces flush. 

fuck it. 

she leans forward, finally pressing her lips against his— warm, plump, so incredibly soft— the two moaning in tandem at the sensation. it’s almost overwhelming for carmen, his breath hitching at the contact, selfishly letting himself melt into her, the best thing he’s ever had on his lips. he knows this will blur lines between them even more, complicate, hurt, but he didn’t care, their kisses soft and slow, electrifying nerves. he grabs her hair, tighter, pulling her closer to him, gently sliding his tongue along her bottom lip. she accepts it, kissing him deeply, letting out a whimper, grabbing whatever she can of him, desperate to fully feel him against her. her hands fall onto the muscle of his bicep, squeezing, the pressure of his lips hot against hers, marveling at the intensity of the kiss. teeth clash, tongues embrace, pulling, grabbing, each exchanging a small piece of their soul through the heat of their lips. his free hand grabs her waist, slow, hot kisses increasing in ferocity, his mind feeling completely numb to any previous objection. she sucks his lip, lightly, the man groaning deeply, the sensation of her mouth greater than anything he’d ever experienced. he deepens the kiss. her core aches, wanting to hoist herself up, slide in between him and the steering wheel, have him take her right in his car. but she pulled away with a final few kisses, the two breathing heavily, car windows fogging with condensation. he frowns at the loss of contact, opening his eyes, meeting her face, lips swollen, eyes low. 

“you’re right,” she admits, quietly. he looks at her in confusion, needing to feel her again. she bites her lip, a few tears growing in her eyes. “we need to stop,” a whisper. 

his lungs tighten, pit in his stomach. he shouldn’t have kissed her back, he thinks, head spinning. 

she wipes an escaped tear, leaning forward to hug him once more, savoring the feeling of him, safe and solid. he doesn’t know what to say, so he just holds her tightly, for what he knows to be the last time. she sniffles, coming back to kiss his cheek, then pulling away completely, grabbing her bag off the floor of his car. 

“thanks for the ride,” she tells him quietly, opening the door, locking eyes with him, the two with a mutual look of pain behind their gaze. he just nods, not trusting his voice. she steps out into the summer night, taking a deep breath, turning back to him. 

“goodnight, carm,” shutting the car door and walking to the stairs of her complex. once her back is to him, she lets the salty tears stream down her face, knot in her throat, face hot with embarrassment, heart clenching inexplicably. she knew this would happen, so why did it hurt so bad? 

it was never supposed to go this far, but it did. 

small fragments of heart scattering behind her like crumbled porcelain, leading back to the idling car where he sat, numb. 

fuck, he curses himself as soon as the door shuts. he tries taking deep breaths to calm himself, to no avail, the space of the car now feeling confined as if it were closing in on him. 

“fuck!” he yells, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. it was supposed to be the right decision— things were never supposed to go so far. so why did it feel like his heart was shattering beneath the weight of his ribs? 

he watches her trudge up the stairs, her shoulders visibly shaking. 

—

i really hope you liked it! final part coming soon, and will be a long one! <3

thank you for your continued support on this series!! :)

part 4 - under the moon

[billythesimp]

Never Judge a Film By Its Cover

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎...

Thank you for the request Client_Clover! I hope this is too you liking, I've never done work like this when it comes to basing interactions off of aesthetic/genres.

Wise w/ gothic-alternative-sweetheart! reader

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡...⋙

Tagging: ☘️ anon

tw: none

⋈ Wise is used to all kinds of people in both kinds of works, whether it’s helping a client in the hollows or approaching a customer to recommend a new tape they figured would be to their liking. No matter the person, he is able to adapt to their personality and knows that better than to judge a person by their looks. He has an eye for these kinds of things, picking up on the littlest details of his customers which makes him a great salesman when it comes to film options. 

⋈ When he started taking an interest on one of the regular at the shop, he was thrown for a loop when he first laid his eyes on them. In a way, they reminded him of Ellen a bit, a very low energy personality who looked around the place with hooded eyes and a ‘Don’t approach me’ attitude. Their clothing choice was also interesting to say the least, wearing different monochromatic articles that could run from looking like a mess of nets and off-shoulder tops to high waisted skirts paired with long trench coat vibes.

⋈ Of course, the many times they come by they only view the tapes and even are with a group of friends from the looks, everyone being the complete opposite of what they seem like, cheerful and bubbly they stand out with a serious case of RBF. [Resting-Bitch-Face] But that makes him even more intrigued, who is this person and what are they like. How do they attract such bright people despite their gloomy-gothic approach? He figures this out one day when they come into his shop looking for something, walking out of the staff only room to find them at the counter.

▿

“Oh, sorry for the wait. Could I help you with something?” 

They only scratch at their cheek, eyes wandering away from Wise’s gaze before presenting a film in hand. “Uh, yeah. Could I rent out this tape?” He only looked down at the tape in question, the genre surprising him to say the least. “Oh sure. Just Oh~ Sweetie today?” The nervously nod, a faint blush painting their cheeks like dapped out watercolors. He rang it up, smiling to himself before handing over the tape. 

“Alright, you’re all set. The return policy is usually a week from today, but feel free to drop by anytime before then. There’s a fee for late returns, but feel free to call the store if you have any questions. Thank you for your business.” Their eyes gleamed in excitement as they held the case in hand, Wise could almost see the sparkles emitting off of them before they waved him bye with a sheepish smile blessing his vision. Once out the store, he could only stare before smiling to himself again.

⋈ Since then, he is always greeting them while also discussing new films that would be to their liking. Mainly ranging from rom-coms to fantasy-adventure, he has gotten to knowing them to the point where they’ve become close friends. Wise enjoys their conversations as they always mention their favorite part of the tapes; he recommends them with childlike innocence, glowing brightly with a cheerful disposition. They invite him out sometimes when he’s clocked out for break, treating him to noodles or listening to some new records across the street. Another place they are a regular at, learning more about their interesting taste in music that fits their aesthetic.

▿

He’s asked about your lifestyle once, giving him a nervous response while twiddling with your fingers. “Ah, well, I get that question a lot. I always had a fascination with gothic fashion and the aesthetic as a whole, so I wanted to express my love for the art form by wearing what I found comfortable. People are surprised when I mention that, but many people I’ve met say that it’s really cool, so I continue to express myself freely- sorry, I’m probably rambling now.” Your yapping slowing into a nonsensible muttering which Wise assures them that he doesn’t mind it one bit.

“Well, I think you're pretty- neat! It’s pretty neat, so I can’t argue with you on that.” He nodded along, seeing how they only skipped beside him with renewed confidence. “Thank you, Wise!”

⋈ Whenever he’s out and about, should he spot them in their usual circle or looming over a display alone, despite the aura they have hovering over them he still makes it a habit to call out to them. The moment before and after they spot him makes his heart flutter, how they look over with a subtle glare before perking up and grinning cheekily and waving him over. Really, it’s a sight to behold.

⋈ Maybe one day they’ll be more than friends, but neither of them would admit it. No number of soft touches and gentle smiles will push them to confess their little attraction to one another. So for now they’ll cuddle up on his bed while watching another film. As friends, yeah really close friends.

[ruggiezz]

bby ya que somos del mismo rancho :3)/ entenderas mejor este pedido esque queria saber si podrias hacer headcanons para los lideres de dormitorio, reaccionando a la costumbre de aqui de saludar siempre con un beso o dos en la mejilla o aveces incluso abrazar cuando son más amigos ^^ y yap, graciaaaas y agradecida por haber encontrado tu blog *beso en la frente*

— KISS ON THE CHEEK : twisted wonderland

[synopsis] them reacting to reader giving them a kiss on the cheek as a greeting (a latin american and hispanic tradition/custom) and them being hugged a lot when being friends (also a latin american thing). reader is yuu

[characters] housewardens (except for vil since i don't write for him)

[extra] YO TAMBIÉN HABÍA PENSADO EN LO MISMO ANON, tienes mucha razón, necesitamos más headcanons así. also, me hace muy feliz de que te guste mi blog 😭

★ RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

He invited you and Grim to the next unbirthday party as the guests of honor. So when he arrives everybody has their eyes on both of you and Riddle approaches to where you're seated and greets you, what he wasn't expecting was you getting out of your seat and greeting him with a kiss on the cheek.

Is flabbergasted pt.1 and he gets as red as a tomato. Inmediately begins screaming "Off with your head" and is only stopped when Ace and Deuce run towards you both and try to explain the situation.

He gets more relaxed now knowing that's just how people back in your world greet eachother, but please, don't do it in front of everyone again, or at least without warning him, Cater took a picture and posted it on magicam and Trey teased him for it. Apparently both of them knew and were eager to see his reaction.

Low-key really embarassed the rest of the unbirthday party, he can't stop thinking about it. Riddle makes a mental reminder to ask more about your culture now, just in case you surprise him out of nowhere again.

Also finds out about the hugging aspect when you two were studying for finals, when you hugged him excitedly when you passed a test thanks to his tutoring. He gets red again, but doesn't do anything to stop you from hugging him. Riddle can get used to it, but he won't probably ask for hugs unless you both are in a relationship, so ask him out already.

★ LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

Leona, for once, decided to eat at the cafeteria since Ruggie was sick that day and couldn't bring him his lunch. He sat alone on one table and nobody dared to approach him because if looks could kill, everbody that dared look at the housewarden would drop dead. That was until you spotted him and went to greet him. The whole cafeteria got dead silent when they saw you giving him a kiss on the cheek. THE Leona Kingschoalr being KISSED by the magicless human.

"Oi herbivore, you're really bold, aren't you? Daring to kiss me in front of everyone?" Leona looked at you with a grin, if it was another person that dared to do it and not you, he wouldn't have let it go, but it was you, so he is going to let it slide. Are you interested in him then?

Disappointed but not surprised when you explain that is a way of greeting people back in your world, but hey, at least he is in a better mood now, so you better sit and eat lunch with him (in silence).

When he overhears a first year Savanaclaw student, that doesn't like Leona, make fun of him, for going "soft", and you, for being "shameless" for that kiss, he's furious. The next day that student had to run an extra kilometer at morning training.

Regarding being hugged a lot, he doesn't mind, but he won't say that. He calls you "bold" and "fearless" for doing it, but doesn't stop you. Ruggie even saw you both asleep in the botanical garden while hugging. Maybe he has developed a soft spot for you after all.

★ AZUL ASHENGROTTO

I know I made headcanons of Azul being chilean, but Yana Toboso hasn't made it canon (smh octavinelle being latino in canon when) so I'll go with how he would react in canon.

Azul invited you to Mostro Lounge to taste the new menu he carefully planned as a way of raising the daily income. He greeted you at the entrance with Floyd and Jade behind him, when you suddenly gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"..."

"..."

"Shrimpy! I want a kiss on the cheek too! Why is only Azul getting one?"

Flabbergasted pt.2, give him a moment, he needs to sort out his thoughts. What just happened. Did the prefect just kiss him on the cheek out of nowhere? This wasn't part of the plan.

Jade interrupts his thoughts when he starts laughing at him, and Azul goes back to the real world and demands at explanation at you over what you just did.

He is still flustered even after you explain that's just a custom back in your world, but has to compose himself for the sake of the rest of the customers that are staring at him. He won't mention it again the rest of his life, unless you greet him like that the next time. Needless to say, Azul got teased by the tweels after who just wouldn't let it go.

Azul is also very flustered when you hug him out of nowhere when he helps you out with an assigment "on the house". Is this also a custom of your country? It is? Oh, he's a little dissapointed you "don't mean it" in a romantic way, since he's been interested in you for a while. Just don't hug him in front of Jade and Floyd, because: (1) They will make fun of him (2) Floyd will squeeze you.

★ KALIM AL-ASIM

Kalim organized a huge party celebrating that he passed his finals exams and every dorm was invited, which meant you were invited too. While Jamil was running around Scarabia trying to make sure everything was in the right place and making sure there was enough food, Kalim was waiting excitedly near the entrance for you to arrive.

When you arrived and gave him a kiss on the cheek, he stood there shocked for a second while Jamil had a heart attack right then and there. After like 5 seconds of Kalim thinking about what just happened, he gave you a kiss back and greeted you with the biggest smile you've ever seen. You didn't even explain what it meant, he just ran with it, excited that you gave him a kiss.

Kalim doesn't care whether it's a greeting or a romantic gesture, he's just happy you're here. He's whipped for you and will accept anything you give him. Jamil agressively disagrees, he is the heir of a wealthy family, someone could see this and misinterpret the situation, but Kalim doesn't care either way and will now greet you with a kiss on the cheek, if this makes you feel more at home then he will gladly do it!

He eagerly accepts your hugs, his love language is physical touch, so he's sooo happy when you hug him, even if it's out of nowhere. Give him all the hugs you want, no need to warn him. Kalim will make it an habit to surprise you with a hug from behind, be free to do it too!

★ IDIA SHROUD

The only one that isn't getting kissed in public. He invited you to his room to play this new videogame that just dropped. Idia had bought some snacks and brought some blankets so you wouldn't be cold when you suddenly arrived and kissed him. Idia.exe has stopped working.

Flabbergasted pt.3, he couldn't even utter the word "hello" he was going to say. He's literally that "what happened to hello? how are you? my name is?" audio on tiktok. He stands there looking at the wall behind you for around 2 minutes, in total silence. So you're both standing there in silence, even after you explain to him that it's a way of greeting someone where you come from.

Idia's soul probably left his body and had to come back because he just couldn't throw you out of his room to have a minute of self-reflection and to think about the meaning of the universe and why we're all here and-

His whole hair is pink and he just fiddles with his videogame controller the whole afternoon, only replying with short words. If you apologize to him he will get even MORE flustered and start panicking over what to do.

It's the same thing regarding hugs, his hair will turn pink and he will scream internally, give him 5 business days to recover, please. It's not that he hates you or doesn't respect your culture, it's just that Idia isn't used to physical affection by other than his brother and ocassionally, his parents. But he low-key likes it, just give him a few weeks to get used to it.

★ MALLEUS DRACONIA

He visits Ramshackle's garden every night, it's his favorite part of the day since you're the only one that doesn't care much about him being "royalty" and isn't walking around eggshells with him. But he's surely surprised when you greet him with a kiss on the cheek.

"You're certainly bold, child of man. You surprise me every day"

Were you trying to court him? Was this your way of telling him his feelings were mutual? No? It's just a human way to greet each other? He needs to cancel the wedding he was already planning then, a shame. What a disappointment, and you can see he's upset over it because you catch him pouting when he thought you weren't looking.

Sebek almost has a heart attack when he sees you greeting Malleus with a kiss on the cheek when you arrive to Diasomnia. He has never screamed so loud, the glass on the windows almost broke, people in Heartslabyul say they even heard it. Lilia stops him from separating you from Malleus, thankfully.

Malleus enjoys your hugs, they are warm and it makes him feel fuzzy. He even asked Lilia what was this feeling was. Please give him more hugs, he deeply enjoys it. He just assumes it's another human custom, and he's eager to learn more about your culture, please do tell him more. Now you have another topic to talk about in your night walks.

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

summary: meeting the handsome guy from the shop next door doesn't go quite as you expect it to

pairing: tattoo artist! kazuha x florist gn! reader

warnings: none except for kazuha himself, just pure fluff

modern au series || genshin impact masterlist

The breeze gently swayed the wind chimes decorating your humble flower shop as you rearranged some of the bigger plants. Despite the warm spring weather and bright sun, it was a tranquil day at the shop. With no holiday around the corner, people weren’t exactly barging down your door at this time of day.

As you were about to repot some of the flowers which had grown too big for their respective pots, your doorbell signalled a customer entering. Quickly, you made your way over into your sales area. In the middle of your shop stood a white-haired man, his mask pulled down and hair tied into a ponytail. When he turned to you, a red streak among the white caught your attention, as well as a few piercings. You couldn’t recall seeing him here before but he seemed somewhat familiar anyway.

“Hi there, how may I help you?” you greeted cheerfully.

“Hello,” he replied warmly, crimson eyes forming crescents as he smiled. In the back of your mind, you noted how beautiful he was. “I was looking for a bouquet or maybe a small potted plant, I’m not quite sure yet. It’s supposed to be a gift. Do you have anything you’d recommend?”

“Sure, please take a look over here.” You walked him over to a small area of potted plants sitting in aesthetically decorated pots. “Personally, I prefer gifting plants like these over cut flowers. Not only do they last a lot longer, they’re also easy to care for. In the end, the choice is yours though, and I’d be happy to show you the already arranged bouquets or bind a unique one for you.”

“Thank you very much, these are perfect though. My mother has a thing for house plants,” he chuckled. Ah, so it was a present for his mother. “Oh, is that a maple leaf over there?”

Stepping aside to let him take a closer look, you nodded. “It is, nicely spotted. I think they make for great decorative elements, given their striking colour.”

“It happens that I’m quite fond of them, too.” The man rolled up the left sleeve of his white jacket to reveal an intricate tattoo sleeve of what appeared to be maple leafs swirling in the wind. “They remind me of home.”

“Wow,” you said, in awe at the artwork, “that is amazing. Whoever drew this must be seriously talented.”

“Yeah, Xiao put his all into this. I drew the actual piece though, so I’m giving myself some credit here,” he sheepishly confessed and scratched his neck. “Ah, Xiao is my colleague. We actually work at the studio next door.”

“So that’s why I thought I had seen you before. It’s nice to meet you, neighbour,” you laughed before giving him your name.

“What a beautiful name, it suits you well.” The melodic lilt of his smooth voice made heat creep up your neck. “My name is Kazuha.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything and it seemed as though the world had stopped as you watched the sunlight break in his crimson eyes. Then with a snap, you remembered where you were and why you were there. You quickly cleared your throat and held up the small plant to him.

“Is this going to be your choice then or would you rather look around a little longer?”

“As much as I’d love to have an excuse to stay, I do think she’d like this one very much,” he said. As you walked over to the register and checked out the plant, you tried not to think about his words too much, otherwise you might not have been able to do much else. When all was said and done, Kazuha pulled his mask up again, yet you could still see his smile beam from his eyes. “Well then, it was nice getting to know you. I hope we’ll see each other more in the future.”

“I hope so too. Have a nice day and feel free to stop by whenever you’d like.”

The doorbell chimed again as Kazuha left with a small wave, which you returned shakily before you buried your face in your hands. Did this really just happen? Did this beautiful man say he wanted to see you again? Was he actually flirting or just being polite? You thought it best not to interpret too much into it, lest you get your hopes up, but your heart was beating out of your chest anyway.

You calmed down over the next few days, although the first couple of times a customer came in, your heart -the traitor- skipped a beat and you mentally kicked yourself for acting like a lovesick fool over a guy you had met once. Slowly but surely though, it was business as usual again and your encounter with him didn’t occupy the forefront of your mind anymore.

Until one afternoon, on which you were faced with striking crimson eyes, that was. You blinked a few times before your brain rebooted and you scrambled for something to say.

“K-Kazuha! Nice to see you again,” you greeted, not very professionally, might you add. “Here for another potted plant?”

Fortunately he chuckled about your clumsy attempt at a joke before gently shaking his head. “No, not today. My mother was quite delighted though, so thank you very much for the recommendation.”

“Not at all, you’re the one who picked after all.” Hiding your fidgeting hands behind your back, you tried your best to hold eye contact. “What brings you here then?”

“Ah you see, I'm here to ask a small favour.” At the curious tilt of your head, he continued. “I was wondering if I could stay here for a while to sketch. Last time I was here, I couldn’t help but feel inspired by all the beautiful flowers. I understand if you say no though.”

“No,” you said immediately before catching yourself. “I mean, no, I don’t mind. I’m very flattered actually. Just make yourself comfortable.”

With a warm ‘thank you’, Kazuha settled in a sunny corner of your shop and pulled pencil and paper from his bag. At first you were a little nervous with him there, hyper-aware of your every movement, but it wasn’t long before you found comfort in his presence. 

This became a regular occurrence afterwards. Kazuha would come over to draw whenever he didn’t have any clients booked as you went about your business, every now and then insisting to help you move a heavy pot to make himself useful. Somewhen down the line, he started bringing you coffee or take-out after learning your preferences and vehemently resisted having you pay him back. At one point, you started to wonder whether his coworkers missed him at all.

“They’ll live without me,” he laughed. “And even if, it’s not like I’m far away.”

Another major plus of having Kazuha around was getting a glimpse of his newest pieces, either through a peek over his shoulder or just straight-up asking him. There was something so vivid about his sketches, as if he transferred the vitality of the flowers directly onto the page and you were blown away every time.

One evening, you were sitting in your shop well after closing time. The two of you hadn’t planned to spend the night in, but as fate would have it, it started to heavily pour down as Kazuha was about to leave. So you, without any selfish ulterior motives, offered him to stay until the rain let up.

That was how you found yourself eating some of the pastries he had brought you earlier while Kazuha was drawing vines and flowers onto your arm after you asked him what kind of tattoo he thought would suit you. As he worked, it gave you a great opportunity to study him. 

His light brows were slightly furrowed as he concentrated, his eyes firmly fixed on your skin and his teeth biting down on his plush bottom lip every other minute. The touch of his left hand, holding and angling your arm as he needed it, sent chills up your spine and the pressure from the pen felt more intimate than it should have. Your body was set ablaze with nerves almost as if you got a real tattoo.

All too soon, Kazuha withdrew the pen from your skin, kept his other hand, however, on your arm, sliding it down a little further so it rested almost over yours. His thumb traced some of the lines almost absentmindedly. If he kept this up, you were afraid you’d melt into a puddle right on the spot, not that that would be such a bad way to go out. Then, he slowly lifted his gaze to meet yours through his long lashes and your breath hitched. You were actually sitting across from some kind of ethereal being, you were sure of it.

“So,” he started, voice low in the dimly lit shop, “what do you think?”

“I think it’s beautiful,” you replied without hesitation.

“I’m flattered, but perhaps,” he gave you a sly smile, “you should take a look at the tattoo first?”

Heat bloomed on your cheeks as you averted your eyes. “All your art is gorgeous though, it’s not like I’d have to look to know it’s true,” you mumbled.

Kazuha wore his faint blush a lot more gracefully than you did as he too looked down to take in the lines on your skin in their entirety. The motive he’d chosen was a branch of flowers wrapping around your underarm, detailed and fine, despite the less than ideal equipment to work with. Between the petals, there was one or the other maple leaf peeking through, causing you to smile. You couldn’t help but wonder what it would look like if it was actually inked onto your skin.

“It makes me happy to hear you have so much trust in me,” he genuinely said.

“Looks like I seriously have to think about getting a tattoo now,” you laughed, although there was actual seriousness bleeding into it. “Perhaps I should make an appointment with… what was his name? Xiao?”

“Come on, gorgeous, you can’t tease me like this,” he gasped in faux offence. “You wouldn’t rob me of the honour of being the one to tattoo you, right?”

“I could never,” you breathed, goosebumps rising all over your arm from where he continued to touch you. And Kazuha seemed to notice it too.

“Are you cold? Here, have my jacket.” Before you could refuse, he’d already stepped around the table and draped the garment over your shoulders. You could feel his body heat still emanating from it, the pleasant scent of his cologne surrounding you. “We wouldn’t want you catching a cold, would we?”

You hummed as a response, brain not procuring anything more profound at the newfound proximity. Just like the first time you met, you lost yourself in his swirling pools of maple but this time nothing was there to yank you back to stop you from drowning in them. 

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?” Kazuha quietly asked, almost as if talking more to himself. “I truly can’t recall anything which could compare.”

“I can,” you countered. When he raised a brow, you continued. “He’s standing right in front of me, actually.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he said fondly. One of the hands previously resting on your shoulders trailed over your skin, light as a feather, before cupping your cheek as if you were a delicate flower. “Hopefully this is not too forward, but… May I kiss you?”

“I’d love nothing more.”

Guided by his hand, you rose from your seat to meet Kazuha halfway before closing your eyes. When your lips met, your first thought was how his lips were as pillowy soft as you imagined. Yours moved seamlessly against them, as if you had done this a hundred times already, yet it was still excitingly new at the same time. Threading your hand into the base of his snowy hair, you carefully tested the waters but were immediately rewarded with a blissful sigh and an arm wrapping around your waist, Kazuha’s fingers splaying over the small of your back and pressing you impossible closer to his chest. 

Only pulling back far enough to speak against your lips, half-lidded eyes gazed into yours as his thumb brushed your cheekbone like the wind caressed the leaves on a tree. “I almost don’t want to stop.”

“Then don’t”, you whispered.

“You have no idea what you do to me, love,” Kazuha groaned before diving back in, this time deepening the kiss almost immediately. Neither of you noticed, nor cared, that the rain had stopped a while ago, too lost in one another to think about much else.

But, quite unfortunately, both of you needed air to live, so you had to reluctantly part eventually. While you breathed heavily, trying to force oxygen back into your lungs, Kazuha peppered a myriad of playful kisses along your jaw and the side of your neck, your giggles reverberating around the shop at the tickling sensation. When he resurfaced, there was a bright spark in his eyes as he mirrored your smile. 

“Even if this might not be the proper order in which to do this, I’d love to take you out on a date one of these days,” he said, seeking out your hand with his and intertwining them. “And hopefully a second one after that.”

“A date, huh?” Running the hand still slung over his shoulder through his hair, you mused lightheartedly. “Sounds like an awful lot of effort to get a new client to tattoo, don’t you think?”

“What can I say,” he played along, “I’m very devoted to the things I hold dear.”

“I don’t doubt that,” you said sincerely, catching on to the double meaning behind his words. “Seems as if I have fallen for your scheme then. 

“A date sounds lovely.”

[captain-joongz]

Abraxas; Act 1, Interlude I

Pairing: mafia boss!Min Yoongi x police officer!reader

Genre: angst, humour and some fluff, investigative, dark themes, slowburn, enemies to lovers, eventual smut

Chapter summary: Amidst a possible scheme against him and his organisation, Yoongi also has to also deal with the new and quite ambitious police officer. But why does he find himself so reluctant to?

Word count: cca 13.5k

Warnings: Yoongi POV! , discussion of illegal activities, drugs, tailing/stalking, mentions of death and blood, allusions to murder and drug deals

THIS ISN'T THE FIRST CHAPTER, IT'S ACTUALLY CHAPTER 2, PLEASE CHECK OUT THE SERIES MASTERLIST OR CLICK PREVIOUS PART FOR CHAPTER 1

Series masterlist | Previous part | Next part

A/N: it's Yoongi's POV!!! yes i'm on the midnight sun trend hehe. sorry for the slight delay, but here it is in all its glory, hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter too ^^

I threw back the remnants of my whiskey and sighed with the pleasant burn. I wasn’t exactly having the best evening and I entirely blamed Jimin for it. And Tae too, he wasn’t about to get off scot-free. I wasn’t even supposed to be in Dynamite tonight and the incessant buzzing of my phone in my pocket kept reminding me that I was sorely needed in The Rose to deal with a difficult customer.

The longer I stood in the hallway leaning against a wall waiting for Taehyung to show up, the more nervous and pissier I was growing. Someone kept blowing up my phone as if that was going to get me there faster, when I had to take over from Namjoon to deliver these documents and Taehyung was late. I tapped my foot on the floor impatiently and hypnotised the corner leading to back to the club with my eyes. It was just one of those nights.

Ten minutes later I finally lost my patience and made my way back into the main room and beelined straight for the bar.

“Hyung,” Yeonjun greeted me as soon as I got there and automatically reached for my favourite whiskey, “Rough night?” I just hummed, too frustrated by the absolute shitstorm today was to keep up the friendly chatter.

“Some fucker’s tearing apart The Rose because Jimin messed up and Tae’s late,” I grumbled and accepted the glass gratefully. I kicked it back in a single gulp and handed the glass back along with the folder of documents. Yeonjun looked at it confused but accepted it nonetheless.

“Give this to Taehyung once he finally gets here, thanks,” I said and immediately turned to leave. It didn’t sit well with me leaving it here just like that, but Yeonjun was trustworthy, the kid’s proven himself a few times since he started working the bar here, so I at least felt a little consoled by that. And if he did try to fuck me over, I knew who I left it with last, so it would be fucking stupid.

My phone started buzzing again, but this time it was a phone call. Jimin. I gritted my teeth and moved back to the empty hallway to take it.

“Hyung, please, Mr. Cho is going to kill me,” Jimin pleaded immediately, “He’s been asking for you for the past 30 minutes.”

“You were the one that messed up his order, Jimin,” I said irritated, “You should deal with it.” There was a beat of silence which allowed me to hear the distant screaming in the background.

“I know, hyung, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again,” the blond man answered, and he sounded so genuinely remorseful, I didn’t have it in myself to keep scolding him. I let out a sigh and took it a bit easier on him.

“I told you to check the goods,” I chided him a bit more gently, “and to make sure you’re working with reliable sources. You sold him subpar shit for the full price. We can’t have that happening at The Rose.”

“I know, hyung,” Jimin repeated, and I could hear his pout through the phone, “I’m going to deal with Dongwook once I’m done here.” I smiled a little at that. Jimin often fooled people into thinking he’s soft and weak with his angelic looks, but he was a force to be reckoned with once crossed. So many have tried to fuck him over thinking he’s the weakest link only to be very painfully proven wrong by him.

“Take Kookie with you, I think he’s with Namjoon right now,” I told him simply, much less angry than when the conversation started. I checked my watch again. Taehyung was still nowhere to be seen, even though he told me he’d be here almost a half hour ago. Jimin on the other side of the phone just hummed.

“Do you know where Taehyung is?” I asked him, some frustration making it back into my voice, “I’m going to have to teach him what 30 minutes mean.” Jimin started answering but was cut off by aggressive knocking on a door somewhere in his background.

“Oh no,” he just said, “That’s definitely Mr. Cho. When are you going to get here?” I sighed and pinched the root of my nose.

“Put him on the phone,” I told him and leaned fully on the wall to prepare myself for this. There was some shuffling, muffled screaming, then the door opened and suddenly I could hear the man yelling at full volume. Jimin told him something and it made him calm down a little. Then I could hear heavy breathing.

“Mr. Min,” Cho growled into the receiver, “Explain yourself. I paid full buck for this shit, it’s barely consumable. I gave it to my boys and they barely even touched it.”

“Calm down Mr. Cho,” I said calmly, “Jimin made a mistake by not checking it over, but there seems to be some attempt from our suppliers to fuck us over. We’re thoroughly investigating it now, my apologies. If you could wait a few days, I’ll get you your usual. And a guaranteed discount on the next batch.” Technically, I wasn’t even lying. There was an attempt to fuck us over, only they weren’t our usual suppliers, they were some ghouls Jimin was trying out. I warned him to be sure they’re trustworthy and he assured me everything was under control. Sure seems like it…

“Fine,” Mr. Cho finally gritted out, “You’re so fucking lucky your services are otherwise top-tier, or else I’d you have you swimming with the fish.” I fought to supress a scoff. Mr. Cho has always been like this, all bark no balls. He loved to threaten others as if he had some power, but all he had was a hefty inheritance that has thinned considerably through the years he spent getting high in my clubs. Always quick to blow up and throw his name around, but calmed down the moment he spoke to me cause he knew I wouldn’t tolerate his bullshit.

Jimin fucking hated him and hated dealing with him, cause he’d always get yelled at for everything, but it would get resolved the moment I’d get involved even though I said the same thing Jimin did just moments before me. Mr. Cho would always grumble and make vague threats, but ultimately go with it cause he knew if one of us had the power to make people disappear in the river, it was definitely me. That’s why I occasionally took the time to remind him of his place.

“Be careful with your words, Mr. Cho, to some they could be taken as a provocation,” I warned him with a faux friendly tone, “Give the phone back to Jimin.” The order was clear, and Mr. Cho didn’t even argue more, thoroughly settled and not interested in getting into more trouble. There was some shuffling and then Jimin was back on the line.

“Hyung, thank you,” he heaved a sigh of relief as the door slammed shut on his side, “He just left. I don’t fucking understand why he always needs to hear from you when I tell him the same shit. What did you tell him anyway? He deflated like a carnival balloon.” Jimin chuckled a little and I hummed.

“The usual stuff,” I answered vaguely, “I gotta go now. If you hear from Taehyung, tell him he’s dead meat.” With that I hung up and went back to the bar.

Only, I stopped dead in my tracks on the way over. There, sitting on a bar looking incredibly out of place in plain t-shirt and jeans, sipping on a drink and watching the dancefloor with intense displeasure, was a quite familiar face.

Immediately on my return from the station last week I had Jungkook run a background check on the new officer in the force. I was surprised I managed to miss they got a newbie, but now I was as familiar with her as she was with me. What I didn’t expect though, was running into her in one of my clubs. I took a moment to watch her, coming up with a strategy on how to deal with this. Either she’s here undercover or she’s a naughty cop and wants something. And finding out which one would infinitely improve my day.

Mood instantly better at the prospect, I made my way over to her side. Looking back, I had no idea I was about to step into something that changed the course of my entire life.

In terms of first meetings, it was a tense one. Surprisingly, I found her quite easy to read, with her pursed lips in annoyance and fire in her eyes. She had the aura of a new young cop, eager to prove themselves, eager to solve all crime. It made me want to mess with her.

Every fibre of her being just screamed ambition and conviction, and even though I could see her naivety, I sensed the sharp edge that she was carrying inside. I knew, this was a person that has fought for everything, and they would continue to claw their way up until they tore themselves a piece of the world they deserved. In shock I realised I saw a little bit of my younger self in her, which forced a surprised laugh out of me. We both strived for different things, but I recognised the emotion with startling clarity.

Maybe that was what led me to talking more openly than I usually did. But somewhere deep down I needed her to understand. The world isn’t what she wants it to be, especially not in these parts. The sooner she would realise that the easier it would be to swallow.

Really, I shouldn’t even have been surprised when one day Jungkook came into my office with a tablet in hand and a serious look on his face. I immediately turned away from my notebook and leaned to the side, preparing myself for whatever he had to show me.

When the tablet finally did make it in front my face, it was a picture of a black, old and slightly banged up car. The car that we’ve noticed cruising suspiciously around a little too much. Jungkook’s tattooed finger swiped right and the next picture showed a close up of a driver taken probably from some nearby security camera. It was our little friendly neighbourhood police officer.

I smirked to myself. So, it seems she does not in fact know how to step away from things that might prove to be a little too much for someone with her ambition. I hummed to myself a little, not knowing whether I was disapproving or impressed at her continued ignorance despite my warnings.

Jungkook swiped one last time to a document showing the license plate being registered to her name. I laughed and leaned back, making myself comfortable in the chair. Jungkook, on the other hand, sighed and put the tablet away.

“What do you wanna do about that?” he asked seemingly neutral, but I knew the look on his face. It was the kind of disapproval I saw in him often when police force was involved. He believed I should be more careful and not toe the line with the detectives this much. Jungkook already knew I wouldn’t ask for him to deal with it, but that I would let things progress naturally, and he was preparing himself for swallowing the order down even though his opinions differed.

“Jungkookie…” I sighed, “What am I supposed to say when you look at me like that?” I teased him gently, giving him a little smile.

“Hyung, you know how I feel about this,” he explained softly, looking a little more like a kid when he pursed his lips like that. I often felt guilty about pulling him into this shit all those years ago, no matter how much Jimin insisted the kid’s okay with it, that’s why I always treasured those moments when it was just the two of us, when Jungkook would stop being the mad dog protecting a criminal and go back to a youngster playing around with his hyung. I patted his shoulder and tried to look as reassuring as possible.

“It’s fine, Jungkookie,” I assured him, “I’m not gonna get in trouble.” He looked at me like a kid that already knew the Santa wasn’t real and felt insulted his parents still tried to bullshit him every Christmas.

“You’re playing with fire too much,” Jungkook answered petulantly, “You’re making my job infinitely more difficult.” I sighed and stood up. Jungkook had a sudden growth spurt some years ago and now towered over me like a mountain, so I found myself looking up even though I wanted to console him. I gently clasped my hands over both of his shoulders and smiled again.

“It’s going to be okay,” I whispered, “I swear. I know what I’m doing.” He frowned but ultimately said nothing.

“Let her be for some time,” I ended up declaring after a moment of silence, “I want to know what she’s doing. What she wants to know. Then we decide what to do next.” Jungkook tensely nodded and looked out of the window with a grumpy face. I laughed at him a little and patted his head. That set his mood a little better.

“Do you think they’re back to tailing us?” he asked eventually. I had gone back to looking over the email I had been in the middle of answering, so I looked up at the younger man surprised he chose to continue with the subject.

“Hard to say,” I hummed thoughtfully, “I don’t think so. She’s not using the official police car, but hers. I bet she’s on her own.” I wondered what she was trying to do, following me for days. With a slight smile I looked out of the window and zeroed in on her car parked a little ways away from the building, but still within eyesight.

What game are you playing, officer?

In the end Jungkook didn’t let me allow her to stalk us longer than a few days before he started pushing me to deal with it properly. There wasn’t a clear read of what her goal was, which disappointed me a little. I doubt she was in it just to follow me around and watch me run errands, but maybe I was expecting a little more than she actually planned on achieving. I didn’t know why that bummed me out so much and I didn’t want to dwell on it, lest I start sinking into some uncomfortable realisations.

I was aware that part of this sudden sympathy was coming from knowing her personal history, and I couldn’t have that. Not when her story was so similar to my boys, not when it made me soft while dealing with potential danger to everything we worked so hard for.

She was the other side of the coin of kids growing up on the street – you either end up a criminal or the police. Her injustice made her want to solve everything wrong with this world. Our injustice made us realise the perfect way to exploit a broken system. But really, we were both one and the same, born from the same mud and moulded by the same violence.

In some way, it made it even harder for me to understand how she could stand on the side of the law.

But in the end, I did have to deal with it. Except I wouldn’t. Few days later when I was sitting in my office with clear view of her car and Jungkook’s burning eyes throwing daggers my way, I decided it was time to test her a little. Just a little push wouldn’t hurt.

I went out the side door, the one I knew she wasn’t aware of so I could give her a little surprise. And I wasn’t disappointed. Laughing at her frustration was easy, toying with her notebook and watching her nervously eye me was easy, teasing her was easy, and before I knew it, it slipped out.

“Good job. Try a bit harder next time, though.”

The second I said it I knew Jungkook was absolutely going to whoop my ass and Namjoon will wholeheartedly agree that I deserve a good thrashing. But I also had my own game and the burning of her eyes when she internally cursed me out made me want to see where this one was going. I left with a pep in my step even though I felt Jungkook’s disapproving aura.

“Relax, Kookie,” I told him once we were comfortably sat in our car, “We just need to know where exactly she’s going with this.” The man just stared at me blankly before resigning on this.

“Fine, but if I think she’s getting too close, I’ll report her to the police for stalking and harassment,” he growled and sulked the entire rest of the way. I couldn’t even tell him not to do that, so I conceded on it. We both knew what the stakes were.

“We haven’t been visited by our blue friends in a while,” commented Taehyung one normal Saturday and thus cursed it into existence, as not even ten minutes later Jungkook got a call the cops are demanding entrance into Pied Piper.

I groaned and leaned my head on the top of the couch, as the two youngsters started bickering.

“You just had to fucking jinx it,” Jungkook whined and Taehyung laughed at him. “We were all thinking it!” was his defence while popping fruits in his mouth. I tried to just disappear into the sofa. Today I was not in the mood for the police at all.

“God, why now,” I allowed myself to whine out and pout a little, giving them a little rare cute display of displeasure. I was fucking exhausted, it was one hell of a week dealing with the mess Jimin made.

The rats were trying to dodge us and make a run for it, maybe seek help from one of our rival gangs, but I had Jimin and Hobi track them down before the end of the week. As usual, Hoseok worked his magic and found them within two days, but the problem was they already moved onto enemy turf. And if I didn’t want this to turn into a big mess, I had to bargain them out. So I spent the week going back and forth with the Kims. First I tried being nice, explaining to them I will deal with this and it will be easier for all involved if they just move over and let us do our thing, until I ultimately had to subtly threaten them to get the fuck out of my way or we burn our path through their ranks too. I had just enough of snarky interactions for one week.

I swore that once this has been dealt with, I would fucking tear Jimin into two and the man was very well aware of that, so he has been acting cute and sending me little gifts, teasingly telling me he’s “trying to get back into my good graces”. That did put a little smile on my face again, as I did have a huge soft spot for him, and gave me tiny bit of energy to deal with this tonight. I sighed. The sooner this is over the better. I resignedly gestured at Jungkook, and he immediately called back to allow them entry.

“I bet you 200 bucks the other half is trying to mess with the dinner the mayor planned for today in your hotel’s restaurant,” Taehyung said eagerly, moving closer to us to look at us expectantly. I looked towards Jungkook, too tired to play this game and kind of hoping for him to take the lead, but he only shrugged.

“Ugh, I think it might be The Rose,” I said eventually when the silence stretched on for too long, “they may have caught wind of the scene Mr. Cho made there.” We both looked at Jungkook again, but he didn’t say anything and just threw his hands up in an ‘I have no idea’ gesture.

Few minutes later the bouncer entered the balcony and behind him Jang and lo and behold – officer Lee, our righteous stalker, the warrior of broken laws. Immediately, my mood skyrocketed. Now this should be fun.

“Did we crash a funeral or what? What’s with the fits?”

That startled a laugh out of me. What an entrance. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Taehyung leaning forward in interest and immediately knew that these two, if given the chance, are going to be the biggest menaces and pains in my ass.

I’ll be honest, I did want to test her a little. Find out how strong her resolve actually is and how good she is at reading the room. While Jang pissed me off and kept his mouth running, I focused on her body language and facial expressions, which was a beautiful blend of resistance and nervousness. I thoroughly enjoyed the uneasiness with which she was watching everything around her, no doubt remembering our first official meeting. “No one is above the law”? Well, look at you now, officer. Unwittingly I smirked into my glass.

This time, I took my time to ease into the teasing and tested her reaction to little quips here and there. I knew she wouldn’t want me to go talking about the time she spent lurking in front of my office, ever since I confirmed her actions weren’t sanctioned by the department, so I tried an inconspicuous little remark about it.

I wasn’t disappointed.

It took me years to perfect “the stare”. The maknaes especially always made fun of it, but even they couldn’t deny it worked. While yes, part of it was an intimidation technique, but what I truly was interested in was the person’s reaction and, inevitably, when they met my eyes, what I would find reflected in them. Cowards wouldn’t meet my eyes at all, those who tried to put up a fight but ultimately would break under the pressure looked for a moment and then turned away or their eyes flitted around and never stayed on anything for too long. Shifty people who tried to fuck me over also had a specific look to them, I could tell just from a single glance that they were greasy motherfuckers not worth anyone’s while.

What I saw in her eyes when she looked at me head on, was pure fire. For a moment I lamented that she wasn’t on our side, because I would kill to recruit someone like this for us. She was playing it well, and even though I could see her discomfort, there was weight to her stare, and a challenge. From the corner of my eye, I could see Taehyung watching her with rapt interest and even Jungkook seemed to pay more attention. They knew about the trials I sometimes put people through, and would no doubt ask me after the police left what I had seen.

I smiled and relaxed. I could see Taehyung do the same while he leisurely sipped on his margarita. He undeniably already knew. Very well then, for now we would continue playing this game. I even found myself quite eager to see what was in store for us in the next few weeks.

It’s not that the other policemen were bad or lacking, well, some of them were, but particularly Park and Jang, who I’ve seen the most around, they weren’t exactly bad at their job. Just… Park was a little too old-school, he was intelligent and experienced, but left lagging behind the modern world. His eyes spoke of an upright but boring man, a jerk but one that couldn’t care less about some clown sitting in an expensive suit in a club he owned spouting bullshit. That’s why I did quite like the man, I could respect him to some extent, despite everything.

Jang on the other hand, my dislike for him knew no bounds. He was a slimy little shifty fucker, all polite smiles and acting decent, but I’ve dealt with enough scumbags to know not to trust a guy like that. There was something about him that rubbed me the wrong way and made me wary of him; honestly, I was just waiting for him to slip up to deal with him.

When they left, just as I expected, Taehyung leaned towards me and whispered: “So that was quite good.” I hummed and kept my eyes trained on the stairs. Jungkook had left to deal with the situation at the office, where presumably Namjoon had been going through another impromptu interview, so we were the only ones left in the club.

“It was definitely interesting,” I answered finally. This time it was Taehyung that hummed.

“So it’s safe to say we’re not getting rid of her that easily,” he mused out loud in between chomping on strawberries and sipping on a fresh drink. I snorted and looked at him. I gestured at Soobin, who was left here by Jungkook to supervise over me until he either returns or I go home, and he nodded and made his way back to the bar to get me another whiskey.

“No, I think we’ve only just begun.”

I finally checked my phone to see a few messages from Joon and surprisingly even one from Hobi. I scanned through Namjoon’s, which could be summed up to “police showed up, don’t worry I have everything under control”. I wasn’t too sure what Park was trying to achieve by this, but I trusted Namjoon to deal with these things completely. We’ve been by each other’s side for as long as I could remember and we’ve seen it all together, I knew his capabilities and there wasn’t anything the police could do to move him.

Taking the fresh whiskey from Soobin who had just returned, I opened the chat with Hobi. His message was short, simple and perfectly ominous.

Hope, 19:22: got em hyung, me w/ boys gonna deal with it 2nite

I smiled and sipped the cool drink, at long last able to fully relax into the couch and just let the background hum of music lull me into a state of comfortable calm. At least one thing would be handled. Next to me I could hear Taehyung make mindless conversation with Soobin, but at that point I was already half asleep. With a slight smirk on my lips, I took another sip and knew. No one would fuck with me.

“Is it just me or we haven’t seen our little detective in a while?” Tae asked while leisurely lying on a sofa in my office. Seokjin turned to him and then back to me to gauge my reaction. I made sure to keep my face neutral as I returned his stare.

“Last time you said that they showed up like ten minutes later,” I murmured looking out of the window on the snowy streets as if expecting the police van to materialise out of thin air.

“Yeah, well, she hasn’t been around for a hot minute,” Taehyung reiterated, his eyes jumping between his two hyungs and waiting would take the bait and entertain him with a conversation, “There was a week when hyung couldn’t even piss without her knowing about it.”

“Why are you so interested in that?” Seokjin asked neutrally, leaned against a bookshelf on the wall opposite of the sofa, “All I hear from Jungkook is grumbling that Yoongi’s being stupid and it’s a safety concern.” I scoffed and looked back towards the two men.

“It’s hardly that,” I said calmly, “I don’t know what he’s expecting me to do, she’s still the police. She’s breaking the laws, yes, which is hilarious by the way, but I’m not petty enough to go through the whole ordeal of reporting her just for sniffing around our business a little.” Seokjin gave me a look, a look that was so specific to him and exactly what I’d been afraid of, that I just dodged his eyes for my own sanity. I hoped Taehyung would keep his mouth shut because Jin, even though he acted silly a lot of the times, had the clairvoyant gift of perfectly guessing what was going through our heads at any given moment. I quickly spun around and averted his gaze despite the fact that it made me look even more suspicious. I just had to keep him from saying anything while Taehyung was still here, because the younger man could not keep himself from telling all the hyungs and Jungkook everything and I had no intention of being discussed like that.

“When is Hobi getting here?” I decided to change the subject. There was a moment of silence, and I could almost see Jin sending Tae warning glances to not bring it up anymore even though I had my back turned to them.

“He should be here in a few,” Seokjin answered at last and brought over to my table the cup of tea he was making, “It’s supposed to be a calming mix. It might not do much, but it’s better than whiskey.” I thanked him politely and the room slipped into silence again as I sipped it slowly while Jin watched me like a hawk.

Suddenly there was a groan coming from the sofa and Taehyung was clambering to his feet. “I can’t fucking take it anymore, I’m so bored,” he whined and skipped over to my table, “hyungs, let’s do something.” He did the thing when he tried to be cute (he was cute, but I made it my personal goal to never tell him or he’ll take advantage of it), started pouting and grabbed my shoulder lightly.

“Go take a walk then, he needs a moment of rest,” Jin told him resolutely. He clearly decided not to fall for it today, even though he usually indulged the younger man. “After all, that’s why I’m here in the first place.”

Taehyung dropped the cutesy act and teasingly scowled at him before walking back over to the sofa to grab his phone. He just jokingly whined “You can be so mean, hyung” and was gone out the door before anyone could reply anything.

Once the door shut closed, Jin’s full attention suddenly was on me, and I grew a little nervous. He wouldn’t let anything slide and took his role as a doctor and a hyung very seriously, especially since he was the only one who was older than me and thus had a little bit of authority over my stubborn ass. I knew that Jin and Namjoon often consulted each other on how to approach me, Joon would oftentimes notice something and immediately snitch to Jin cause he knew Jin was the only one I allowed to care for me in such a capacity. It wasn’t unusual that Namjoon would raise a concern about my health, and I would tell him it’s nothing, only to have Jin coming to my house later that day, fully informed and prepared to deal with it (and me).

“How’s your migraines been?” Jin decided to play it safe at first, dancing around what he actually wanted to ask.

“Shit,” I replied dryly and squinted my eyes at him. He looked at me with worry and I sighed. “It’s been getting better,” I begrudgingly told him, and he gave me a look a parent gives their annoying child.

“You need to rest more,” Jin started, and I groaned. Once he got into full parent mode and began nagging, nothing could stop him. Poor Kookie had to listen to a 30-minute-long lecture about the risks of smoking every time he only looked in a direction of a cigarette pack, which then almost every time moved on to us for being bad influence on him. Especially Namjoon who was basically glued to a cigarette. I have over the years got out of the habit and now mostly smoked only occasionally, much to Jin’s content.

“I know, I know,” I stopped him and started imitating him, “I need to sleep more and eat better and drink less alcohol, work less and have other hobbies other than hanging out around bars.” Jin gave me an unimpressed look and pursed his lips.

“So sorry for caring for your measly pathetic life, Mr. Bossman,” he retorted sassily and went to sit down on the sofa. Then he pierced me with his eyes again and I knew there was no running from this.

“So what’s all this about?” he asked and I started speaking basically even before he finished. “Nothing.” Jin raised his eyebrow and relaxed into the couch. “Really now?”

“Yes, no matter what Kookie says, I know what I’m doing,” I said resolutely and gave Jin a look that made it clear we would not be speaking on this matter anymore. That softened the man a little and he relented.

“Okay then,” he said softly and smiled at me, “I trust you, Yoongi. I’m just trying to make sure you’re all safe. I would be a fool not to worry about the police.” While I accepted it was a slight dig at my approach to this, I also knew it was the closest I would get to Jin conceding and leaving this subject behind. I smiled at him with all the charm and charisma I could muster, and he just scoffed at me and busied himself with his own mug of tea.

Though I was also a little surprised, just as Taehyung, at the sudden absence of detective Lee. She was everywhere for a whole week and then just suddenly disappeared, but I was anticipating some sort of new plan was abrewing on her part. I supposed it wouldn’t take too long.

“What do you mean they’re messing with the docks?” I growled into the phone and stomped the cigarette butt into the ground. Namjoon next to me tensed up and also put down his cig only to immediately light up a new one. Hobi on the other side of the phone sighed and apologized.

“It seems that when we stormed them last month some little creative critters managed to slip by us,” the man explained over phone, “They’ve been sabotaging in the docks, stealing cargo and ganging up on some workers here and there, but we’ve got them now. Gonna deal with it tonight.” I scoffed, mildly annoyed but not wanting to take it out on him. Still, I couldn’t stop a little petty remark.

“Funny, I think I already heard that from you once,” I said gruffly and looked over the street to where Jungkook’s car just pulled up. Namjoon waved at me, gestured towards the young man and then set out to welcome him and bring him up to my office.

“I know, hyung, I’m sorry for messing up the first time,” Hobi said with genuine remorse, and I felt like I was inside a one huge déjà vu as he sounded the same as Jimin when he apologised for causing this whole ordeal in the first place. I sighed and softened my voice. After all, this was just a bad month, I knew their abilities.

“It’s fine, I’m just annoyed with how persistent they’re becoming,” I explained to him and also slowly moved towards the office entrance, “who would have thought that they would be this hard to deal with?” Hobi laughed and I heard some shuffling noises from his side, slight murmuring and then a bang of a door.

“It’s good we’ve dealt with them now; they were on a good way to becoming unbelievable menaces. Thank god they trusted themselves enough to mess with us this early while still unprepared for the retaliation, or I bet we’d spend weeks slowly eradicating them like annoying pests.” I laughed at Hobi’s words and nodded even though he couldn’t see me.

“Hubris has a funny way of catching up to you,” I mused quietly, Hobi only humming and then suddenly exclaiming loudly.

“Oh! That’s right!” he shouted out suddenly making me flinch a little. “Christ, Hobi,” I grumbled, “You’re going to make me embarrass myself. What’s up?” The man laughed a little and continued.

“Kookie’s on his way with some very interesting footage you’ll want to see,” the man said mysteriously with a happy lilt to his voice, “We found it when checking the security cameras for the little fuckers messing with our cargo.” I hummed, secretly smiling at the younger man’s antics while waiting for the damn elevator to come to the ground floor.

“He just got here, he’s with Namjoon upstairs. I’m on my way up too,” I told him and finally stepped into the elevator.

“Oh, I better go then,” the man laughed, “I have my plate full here anyway.” With that he hung up and I spent the rest of the ride up building anticipation on what Jungkook wanted to show me.

Upon walking into the office, I found Jungkook already showing something to a smirking Namjoon sitting in my chair. I regarded them both with slight suspicion and then wordlessly made my way to stand next to Jungkook. He immediately put the tablet away and I frowned. He was just about to open his mouth to explain to me, but I beat him to it.

“Hobi already told me you found something on the CCTV, so you can just show me,” I told him gruffly and motioned for him to put the tablet back on the table. He did. With a few quick swipes of his tatted fingers, he presented to me a video. I squinted my eyes at a it a little bit cause it was so dark and hard to see, automatically leaning forward towards the tablet.

It was a view from one of the side alleys by the warehouse we’ve been having troubles with. I was well acquainted with this camera, it was so nicely installed it became practically invisible to anyone who already didn’t know it was there, thus over the years it procured us some very useful evidence. For a moment there was no movement, just a dark alleyway in one of the seedier parts of this city, but then a figure appeared out of the shadows. They were dressed in all black and were slowly slinking by the wall with their eyes trained on something in front of them. We watched it for a few seconds and then the figure turned around and left.

I was just about to question Jungkook, when the man swiped and an enhanced picture of the figure filled the screen. I leaned towards it for a moment and then laughed. It was detective Lee. The picture was grainy and dark, it was quite hard to see, but that was unmistakenly the rookie cop sniffing around.

“The warehouses? What is she doing in the docks?” I speculated out loud.

“I don’t know but I don’t like her sniffing around there,” Jungkook said resolutely, “She’s probably looking for evidence.” I hummed thoughtfully.

“Well, she would have to break into the offices and decode the documents, which would be highly illegal and inadmissible in court, so I doubt she would do that,” I retorted and finally pushed Namjoon out of my chair to sit down, “She’s most likely looking for something specific.” Namjoon leaned over the table and gave us a mischievous smile.

“Or someone specific,” he pointed out. We both looked at him and pondered over it. “She could be just getting the hang of our locations,” Jungkook mused, “I think it’s more probable she just wants to be familiar with the places that we own. Or she thinks we’re just doing illegal shit out in the daylight like a bunch of idiots.” I laughed at that, but the first part of the statement was definitely possible.

“We have to wait for a little more,” I told them both, “She’ll reveal her cards soon.” Jungkook gave me a look but said nothing. Namjoon was just watching us with a smile. I knew the younger man was getting antsy because he cared about my safety and this detective was getting closer than the others. But that was also her weakness – to get more info she abandoned the law, so while yes, she was more determined to find out, but also she was making herself more unreliable to the force and in the eyes of the court. It was a slippery slope for her.

The situation would need some supervision, for sure, but in the end we had the upper hand cause we could report her anytime and cost her the position in the force. I hummed again and smirked.

“We’ll deal with this shortly, don’t worry,” I attempted to soothe the man, “Right now we have to focus on the fiasco with these dealers.” At the change of subject both of the men perked up.

“Do you know anything about how Hobi-hyung wants to go about this?” Namjoon asked Jungkook. They were both standing at the opposite sides of my table looking at each other. Kookie deliberated a little before saying: “He didn’t say much, just that they’re doing it tomorrow. He’s pretty pissed they managed to dodge him, so he’s most probably not gonna be very nice.” To that both me and Namjoon laughed.

“Good,” I said, “They’ve been pissing me off too. Who would have known they would be such pests.”

All three of us shared a look. “Fucking cheers to that,” Jungkook said, and we moved on.

The next day I had gotten a single text from Hobi that sounded very similar to what he texted me last time he went after them. The plan was to surprise them during lunch, storm them quick and blindside them. Ideally it would be over before they ever realised something had hit them. And as someone who had seen Hobi in action before, I knew he was absolutely capable of that.

I was just smoking outside with Namjoon, who was making fun of me that I had gotten back into my habit the whole time he was attempting to light my cigarette, when I got another text.

Hope, 14:49: done

I smiled to myself and patted Joon’s shoulder. He gave me a confused look that melted into satisfied realisation when I winked happily.

Me, 14:51: are you absolutely sure? no more surprises?

Hope, 14:52: no more surprises. i’ll be over in twenty

I pocketed my phone again and stubbed out the cig, lightly slapped Joon’s shoulder again and moved to go back inside. The man followed after me without a word or a question, only gave me a celebratory smile when getting off the elevator a floor beneath my office.

I waited gingerly for the man’s arrival, drinks ready for us and words of gratitude on my tongue. Faithful to his word, he got there in twenty minutes on the dot, bursting into my door with a wide smile, no doubt also happy he managed to teach a lesson to some pesky kids messing about with things way beyond their capabilities.

I clasped a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, I left no loose ends this time,” was the first thing he said, “though I wish I had more time for clean up, but the cops were called. They’re most probably already there.”

“As long as there’s nothing linking us to them, it’s okay,” I reassured him and pulled us both to the sofa. He shook his head at that.

I trusted Hobi, I knew he was damn good at his job. He was always so excellent at making everything that was causing me headaches disappear, and I felt endless gratitude to the man. For a moment we both just sat there in comfortable silence and sipped our drinks.

I took another swig of whiskey and winced. “Jin would kill me if he saw me right now,” I muttered and Hobi laughed. “It’s for celebration, I’m sure he would understand,” the man joked, knowing full well how obsessed the doctor was with making us all live healthily, even when we all knew it was a losing battle. I snickered again and relaxed into the sofa.

“If the cops are there right now, that means they’ll probably show up here by the evening or early tomorrow,” I mused out loud, already too familiar with their strategies. Hobi agreed with me, but I could see that he was thinking about something else.

“What’s up?” I asked gently. Hobi looked at me and hesitated a little. “I might have to go to Japan for a little bit,” he said eventually. I looked at him in surprise.

“Japan? Why?”

The man reached into his back pocket and pulled out a piece of folded paper. One of the corners was painted with a splatter of blood and the paper was all tired and frayed from whatever it went through.

“He was really trying to make sure I wouldn’t read this, so I made extra sure to get it,” Hobi explained, looking at me observantly and carefully continuing, “And for good reason. I’m sure you yourself recognise this.” He handed me the paper and I slowly unfolded it to not do any more damage to it.

I did recognise it and immediately felt a rush of cold rage hit my bloodstream. Before me, there was a formal invitation to meet with the Watanabe family, one of the smaller suppliers from Japan. They weren’t the ones that we were doing the most business with, but we had a mutual trust to keep out of each other’s way, occasionally help each other out and otherwise not cross each other’s paths.

Whether they knew what these little fucks were planning or not, it seems that a connection between them was established. And as such, I couldn’t let it slide. Especially since the dead rat wanted to keep it secret so bad. There must have been something going on.

For the Watanabes it would be beneficial to try and get us out of the way, since we were blocking their way to most of Seoul, but I couldn’t believe they were this fucking stupid.

“That explains a lot,” I said, reverting back to my business self, “and here I was, thinking we were cordial with each other.” Hobi hummed. I looked at him and let him feel the full force of my anger with the behaviour of our supposed allies.

“Let them know just how disappointed I am with them for me, please,” I told him, voice full of ice. This wasn’t a playground, we weren’t kids messing about in the sandbox. We had to act quickly, before someone got the idea that they could cross our path.

The conversation was a little stunted after that, both of us thinking about the implications of an alliance between these two; so once Hobi finished his drink, he moved to leave, finally deciding it’s time to get back to his boys and make sure everything’s going off without a hitch now. He turned around, mouth opening to tell me one last thing, when he opened the door and promptly bumped into someone. I stood up from the chair, worried for a moment, only to grin wide when I realised who it was.

Hobi had managed to catch the nosy detective before she fell, and I had the best view in the house for when she looked up and realised who was it that she slammed into at my office. As every time, her face was an open book there for everyone to read and I saw it go from apologetic to absolute mortification to some sort of astounded glee. I watched her like a hawk while she stared at Hobi and the wheels in my brain were turning full speed. Huh, could it be?

Even when she snapped out of it and Hobi started to tease her, her eyes remained glued to the man with clarity and determination. If I was a jealous man, I may have even gotten a little angry at the display of open interest, I thought to myself jokingly while I watched them amused. So this was her goal, huh? She was after Hoseok. It did make sense, he would be someone the police found interesting, but he also had considerable experience at dodging them.

Once Hobi left and I could see her gearing up to bullshit me to the max, clearly totally out of her depth here, I decided to test my theory a little bit. But I would need help with that. I gave her a little bait and only waited for her to bite. She did. She didn’t even ask how I knew about what was happening in the docks, just started scrambling to explain herself somehow. I pulled out my phone again and texted the one man I knew could accomplish this.

Me, 16:29: how fast can you get here? need a distractor asap

TaeTae, 16:29: be there in 15 hyung &lt;3

I chuckled a little at his fast reply, but quickly got up to move towards the bar. I had to distract her well and leave her distracted enough to slip a little bug on her. I weaved my web, pulled her in different directions, and I lied.

“We had nothing to do with it,” I said, though I had ordered the strike as retribution. But some things she wasn’t prepared to hear upfront, with some honesty I would have to wait until she was too deep to be appalled by the reality.

Taehyung burst into the room just as he always did, in the perfect way to steal all the attention. Her head snapped to the door with panic, and I seized my opportunity. I moved behind my table and fished around in the first drawer for the small device. I checked on Taehyung who was doing his best magician act, though by definition he would be more of my beautiful young assistant tasked with distracting the crowd while I faked the magic trick. It took only a second for my skilled fingers to slip the tracker beneath her phone case and by the moment she looked at me in horror at Taehyung’s behaviour, I was already sitting on the side of the guest chair satisfied with myself and watching the man work.

I couldn’t help the pleased hum when she grabbed her phone and flustered stumbled out of the door.

The moment the door closed behind her Tae looked at me curiously. “What was that about?” he asked full of mischievous keenness. I shrugged and smiled at him mysteriously. “Just trying to prove a theory of mine,” I uttered nonchalantly and thoroughly enjoyed the eager interest of the younger man.

“That was a tracker, wasn’t it?” he asked again, ever so observant. I gave him another grin. His curious eyes never missed anything, they always flitted around wherever he was, taking in people’s actions and expressions, that’s why he was my favourite spy. People didn’t take him much seriously, they didn’t see him as threat and he knew how to take advantage of it perfectly and bring every little dirty secret right to me.

“Hmmm, we’ll speed up the process a little bit and Kookie will hopefully relax now,” I told him. He hummed too and got up to get himself another drink.

“Guess we’ll see.”

Maybe we were having a little too much fun pretending like we didn’t know she was tailing us. How do you school your face while talking when you know that a cop is sitting 10 metres away from you? Though we did agree that we like the upgraded look with the motorcycle, so I guess that’s what she was up to the whole time we didn’t see her following us.

It would be a little better had Hoseok been in the country, but we had to entertain ourselves while he dealt with the traitors. I hadn’t heard from him really for around two or three days, which surprisingly was a good thing. It meant he was too busy solving problems to reply. In the end Jin decided to go with him and I had absolute confidence that they would deal with it no matter what that entailed.

I heard Jungkook lightly complain that she’d gotten craftier and how he often had to drive around to lose her to be able to go about his day peacefully. She did go after Namjoon for a little bit and then promptly gave up, which didn’t surprise me as he only spent time home or in the office, she did try to follow Jungkook, but he never gave her a chance. Tae and Jimin didn’t seem to be her targets in the slightest, much to Taehyung’s displeasure, who grumbled about how he’s also interesting. So she mostly stuck with me. But I was patiently waiting for Hobi to return and see.

The moment Hoseok and Jin stepped foot into the country, I warned him to not show up around for a while. He was very confused, but when I said it’s related to the police, he obliged happily, though we had to meet up to discuss his trip to Japan and its conclusion. One day when her little red dot didn’t move from the station, I called him over.

I had to go to the Magic Shop, which was one of the newer clubs Tae was trying to transform into a popular spot, and Jimin came over too. He was still trying to “sweeten my rage”, in his words, which I no longer felt but didn’t tell him. I’d never admit it, but I quite liked the way he was trying to be so damn cute and play up how much he loves me, though I was pretty sure he knew and that’s why he hasn’t stopped yet. I was just laughing at the two younger men’s antics when Jungkook’s car pulled over to the club and the two newcomers jumped out.

“Hyung!” Jimin shouted out, “You’re finally back!” Hobi laughed and threw himself at the blond, tackling him into an aggressive hug, both of them giggling. Tae couldn’t stay still and joined them, with me and Jungkook watching them fondly with smiles on our faces.

“Okay, okay!” I talked over the commotion and pulled them apart, “Unfortunately I have to steal him away for a bit, you can have him later.” The youngsters pouted at me, but it was all in jokes. But when I looked over at Hobi, he had a guilty expression on his face. I sighed a little and smiled at him.

“Sorry hyung, I actually have to go check on the warehouses in Songhyeon-dong, the boys have been asking for me,” he explained and gave an apologetic smile, “You can come too, though. If you have time.” I pursed my lips and thought about it, but I already knew I couldn’t make it.

“It’s across the whole city, unfortunately it’s not convenient for me today,” I told him. We needed to debrief properly; it would be best if Jin was present too, but the man was hard to come by during the weekdays due to his clinic. Every rich person in whole of Seoul wanted him to attend to them and he usually ran from patient to patient, while Hobi was the number one contact for those who worked in or around the warehouses and thus found himself driving around Seoul just solving shit that went wrong. If he couldn’t wait here to have a conversation, it must have been pretty serious there. He was looking at me stressed, most probably trying to think of a way to make it work for everyone, but I patted his shoulder and smiled reassuringly.

“It’s okay, Hobi,” I assured him, “I’ll visit you tomorrow or the day after. I’ll bring Jin too.” He returned my smile and moved back to Jungkook’s car.

“Wait, Hobi-hyung!” Jimin shouted out again, “I drove here with the silver Porsche, you can take it cause Tae’s gonna drive me back.” The blond-haired man fished around in the pockets for a moment and then threw something small and black towards Hoseok, who caught it without problem with a cheeky wink and a smile.

He was gone in a minute, and I soon followed with Jungkook. In the end Jimin took my car and I asked Kookie to drive me to the office, since he was going to stay there with me and Joon anyway. I kept thinking back to the Japan issue, wondering what the boys found out and what the Watanabes tried to claim. And whether we should prepare to burn some bridges.

The next day, though, started in a somewhat peculiar manner. When I came out in the morning and got into the car, Jungkook was sitting next to Soobin with a sombre expression. I immediately straightened and prepared to hear whatever it was that went wrong in those few short hours I was gone.

“I messed up hyung,” he said sheepishly and handed over his phone. The little tracking red dot wasn’t in its usual spot, by my house or by one of the clubs, not even by the office or the station. It was in Songhyeon-dong. Right across from our warehouses. I laughed and Jungkook looked at me nervously.

“Where’s Hoseok right now?” I asked immediately and the younger man snapped into attention.

“He’s in there right now, got in about 7 o’clock, was talking about some papers that have been waiting for him to approve,” Kookie answered, mind back on business and unpleasant feelings left behind to focus on this fully. I grinned at the man wildly. “Perfect.”

I swiftly pulled out my phone and started writing a simple and quick message.

Me, 8:15: stay in the warehouse, don’t walk out at all

Hope, 8:17: what do you mean hyung? are we in danger?

Me, 8:17: no, don’t worry. our little spy is on you and i’m trying to prove something

“Do you want to go to Dynamite today, or are we expected at the hotel?” Soobin’s voice pulled me away from my phone, back to a nervous Jungkook sitting next to the unsure bodyguard. “The hotel, thank you Soobin,” I answered politely with a mild smile and redirected my attention back to Jungkook.

“Don’t worry Kookie, I’m not mad,” I said with a smile, “This is actually exactly what I wanted, just hoped that I would have more time and control over when she found him. Guess she must have been on us yesterday.” The young man stiffened and looked back to his phone.

“Do you think she’s aware of the tracker? Left it at the station purposely to mess with us?” he asked all business-like, probably already trying to come up with a new plan. “It’s possible,” I hummed, “It’s time to find out.”

Silence took over the car as we made our way through the city. I smiled to myself. Even though it happened a little faster than I was planning, but I was glad she was still going in the direction I had predicted. I look away for a moment and you leave for one of my friends, huh? You definitely work fast.

I laughed again, earning a strange look from the two younger men, but only gave them a mysterious wink. We might be able to deal with this shortly, if everything goes well. The key was to find out what the goal was, then I could control what she found and make sure she’d stay away from what we needed to hide.

“Let’s give her a few days,” I told them and gave them another grin.

Me, 8:25: how would you feel about going to the warehouse every day and just staying there?

Hope, 8:26: ???

Four days later I sat into my car and instructed Soobin to drive to the warehouse with a shit-eating grin. Jungkook had been keeping me updated on her movements and she spent her days either at the station or staking out in the building across the premises.

Hobi, as promised, had been going to the warehouse and just sitting on his ass there, thoroughly complaining through his phone the whole time. I had been trying to calm him down and keep him there, while Joon and Kookie took it upon themselves to tease him all the time with pics and cheeky texts about eating in restaurants and hanging out in clubs together, so he was slowly losing his patience with my plan. I had to move forward quickly for the benefit of us all, even though I did find it awfully funny.

Reaching our destination, I took the time to walk around very self-assuredly for a moment knowing she was watching this angle. When I tired of putting on a show of how free and relaxed I was this day, I finally made my way inside. Through the door you entered straight to the short hall which led to our office, so it was a relatively short and quiet trip.

Hoseok and Jungkook were already sitting inside, Hobi behind the table and the maknae occupying an armchair sitting a little more towards a corner to the left of the door. With the sound of the door opening, their heads snapped towards me and as soon as they saw my smug smirk, Hoseok groaned loudly.

“God, please tell me this is over!” he whined and dramatically draped himself over the surface of the table, “I can’t take another day of this! I’m going to fucking lose my mind here!” Jungkook chuckled at him and retorted with a slight smirk: “You should have treated this as a holiday or something. Watched Netlix and all that stuff.” To that Hobi screamed out loud and grabbed something on his table to throw at the now laughing Kookie. “Yah! You think I have time to burn? I’ve got shit to do!”

I snickered at them and moved inside, Soobin following me in. I gestured at Jungkook. “Did you bring the cup as I asked?” The man nodded at me. I smiled, as relaxed as I haven’t been in a long time, and sat down on a chair by the table. Soobin remained standing by the door so I gestured at him to also sit somewhere, as this would take a while.

“So what’s next in your amazing and genius plan that involves the literal torture of your beloved dongsaeng?” He asked, suddenly pretending to be all business-like and serious, while Jungkook still occasionally giggled in his spot to our left.

“Now we talk for a bit, draw it out a little,” I said smirking meanly, “Then we send in Soobin and wait what he brings back.”

“It’s pretty cold outside, hope she’s dressed for the occasion,” Hobi noted cheekily and relaxed into his chair. I hummed and schooled my expression. I did have to bring up Japan, we haven’t had a chance to talk about it properly yet and I couldn’t visit him sooner cause we were planning what to do about our little spy.

“I don’t think she knows about the tracker,” Jungkook mused out loud, “she keeps bringing it. I don’t think it’s a statement like ‘look where I am’, it wouldn’t make sense to let us know.” Hobi nodded, humming in agreement, and they carried on for a moment, the conversation heading to the clubs as Hoseok asked about how it went while he was gone. I let them speak for a little while, just enjoying the company, until their chattering died off and they both looked at me questioningly.

“We have to talk about Japan,” I said simply, not feeling the need to beat around the bush. Hoseok immediately sobered up and straightened in his chair, while Jungkook looked on curiously, no doubt also dying to know the situation in which we found ourselves in.

“Well, they claimed innocence,” the dark-haired man said sombrely, “I’ve heard bullshit enough time in my life to smell it a mile away, but there wasn’t anything I could really pin on them. I checked the dates of their stay, and it was relatively recently, there wasn’t much correspondence between them, that I found. And we did thrash the dealers’ hiding spots. They must have gotten rid of it. But the head of the Watanabe family is such a slimy motherfucker that I don’t believe a word he said. They surely must have been planning something together.” He shrugged and sat back. “I’m afraid right now we can’t do much about it unless we want to seem like vicious usurpers.” Jungkook leaned forward and looked at us thoughtfully.

“Japan is outside of our turf, if we did something rash without substantial evidence, we could risk losing the support of the Satos,” he contemplated out loud, “God knows what’s going on between them right now.” I hummed and nodded, smiling at the man satisfied. He really did grow up, god. Time flies so fast.

“There seem to be two main issues right now,” I surmised solemnly, “First, the Watanabes are small and cowardly. The reason why they’re where they are is because they just suck up to others and hug their thighs to drain all the benefits from them. If they stirred up trouble with someone, they would no doubt end up eradicated before sundown.” The men looked at me with similar serious expressions. I took a moment to get myself a glass of water and continued talking standing up by the office desk.

“So, what gave them the confidence to get involved with an effort against us?” I mused thoughtfully, “There is a chance that they couldn’t have known that their new friends would immediately go and cross us and get themselves all killed, but I trust Hobi’s instinct. The fucking clown that leads the family now is a sleazy bastard, one with an ego that doesn’t match his wit nor his guts. He loves to gloat and provoke, but only when he knows someone stronger’s got his back.” Hobi nodded. He knew the man well since he had the displeasure of meeting him a few times when we were in Japan and had to attend a few of the same events as he did.

“If he knew he was at risk, he would have met me already grovelling,” Hoseok muttered with distaste, his immense disdain towards the man showing through, “that’s the kind of a pathetic vermin he is.” I agreed with him and carried on.

“So that means he probably feels comfortable timidly opposing us, cause there’s someone that’s got his back,” I concluded, “Someone who’s probably on our side of the puddle, someone who probably hooked him up with the rats we just got rid of. They probably weren’t expecting them to go against us immediately and die, but they don’t feel intimidated by the fact that we suspect something.”

The room sunk into silence as we all pondered about it. I could be looking too much into it, but in this world one never knew. You couldn’t survive here by assuming everyone’s best intentions. Quite the opposite. The little shits feeling confident enough to swindle us, them trying to desperately hide the invitation before they lose the chance to, the Watanabe’s approach to a meeting with Hobi. It wasn’t much to go off of, but it was suspicious enough to keep track of and keep in mind. If there potentially was a beginning of a plot against us, we had to stay alert and monitor the situation before it spun out of control.

“The confidence means their alliance is already pretty sure, then,” Jungkook broke the silence and took turns looking at us both. I gave him a single jerky nod in return. “Probably. Who knows.”

“What’s the second issue?” Hobi suddenly asked. Kookie looked at me questioningly and his face suddenly looked so much younger with his eyes wide, it almost shocked me speechless.

“The Japanese families,” I shook off my surprise and continued, “If we do decide to make take some precautions, we need to properly communicate so with the Satos and get their support. They need to be in full agreement with whatever we choose to do with the Watanabe clan.” Hobi scoffed and turned to me.

“That shouldn’t be too hard. They’re not that influential and going against us means they’re going against the Satos too.”

“Still,” I repeated, “We need to test their alliance to us too.” A realisation hit Jungkook’s face and he nodded enthusiastically. That made me laugh a little at his earnestness. Hobi also smiled, but it was still strained.

“Let’s bide our time for now,” my voice carried through the office resolutely, “Lay low, pretend we’re over this issue and gather our wits. And prepare for potentially dealing with this.”

We nodded at each other. Even if years have passed since our youth and the fire and passion and determination that comes with it, we were still prepared to fight for what was rightfully ours. We climbed our way here through hell and there’s no way we’d let some snotty little brats try to take everything away from us.

“I’ll keep my eyes and ears out,” Kookie stated, phone in hand ready, “They’re bound to come across something juicy.” Hobi murmured his approval and turned his attention back to me.

“Today we should deal with the other issue at hand, or I am actually going to go insane between these four walls,” he complained whinily and I laughed at him. I moved towards the little kitchenette in the right corner from the door and started preparing some coffee. I made a cup for all present and then one extra into the cup Kookie brought with him, which I promptly handed to Soobin.

“My boys scoped it out and she seems to have her hideout on the sixth floor to the left of the staircase,” Hobi instructed the young man, who patiently waited on me to send him off.

“Tell her something that will piss her off,” I said only, grinning wildly. The blond man smirked at me and disappeared out of the room swiftly and silently.

“Now we wait,” I told the room, sitting gingerly back into the chair with my fresh cup of coffee, playing with the spoon like a spoiled little kid waiting for his birthday present. We all stayed silent, too much on our minds to keep mindless convo. Kookie was typing furiously on his phone, a slight scowl sometimes tugging at his features, while Hobi relaxed into the chair and serenely looked off into the distance. I tried to keep the self-satisfied smirk on my face while my mind slipped to more serious issues.

I couldn’t help but be worried about the current situation. Their potential ties to a stronger gang, or maybe even a family, would explain the surprising difficulty with which they went down. I knew I stepped on many toes when I stole half the fucking Seoul right from under their noses, and even more when I proved impossible to dethrone. It didn’t surprise me at all to uncover a supposed scheme like this. Truly, this didn’t even have to necessarily be aimed against me and my gang, but the boys fucked up by involving us in their business. But no matter what, we would emerge victorious from this, that I had no doubt about. Once someone crossed a line, we would make an example of them and teach a lesson to whoever it was that wanted to mess with us.

Over the years in this “business”, I had learnt a lot. One of the things was: what couldn’t be solved with threats, would be solved with blood. And it never failed me before. I looked at Hobi and Kookie again and smiled. We had each other’s backs and I trusted their abilities more than I trusted myself. The truth was that we were more a family than many around us that were actually blood related. That was the second reason of our success.

Soobin returned within 15 minutes, of which he probably spent most time going up and down the stairs. He walked back into the office slightly breathless and a little red, so I gestured for the single cup of coffee left on the mini kitchen counter. He walked over and took a tentative sip, probably finding it the perfect temperature since it’s been waiting for him here and slowly cooling down.

We all found ourselves hanging onto him with our eyes, some excitement coursing through the room at what he was about to divulge to us. Kookie broke first.

“How did she react to you?” he asked eagerly, waiting to confirm his theory about the tracker.

“She was shocked and surprised, and frankly pissed off,” Soobin answered immediately, his deep voice having a calming effect on us, “She didn’t seem to understand how you were able to find her.”

Jungkook exclaimed happily. “Perfect, that means she doesn’t know about the tracker,” he said satisfied. I was about to destroy his whole joy though, so I let him bask in it a little before speaking.

“We’re gonna mess with her a little, make it obvious,” I told the room and Kookie immediately groaned. “Hyung, having her tracked without her knowledge is the safest way to let her be but still have control over the situation. Why would you want to give that up?” I winked at him and pursed my lips teasingly.

“To provoke her. Rile her up, frustrate her, push her to her limits,” I explained, eyes flitting between the three men, “She’ll reveal herself then.” Kookie hummed in understanding, but Hobi squinted his eyes at me somewhat suspicious. I quickly averted his eyes and focused back onto Soobin.

“What else did she say?” I asked him. The man immediately snapped to attention at me addressing him and answered. “That you’re annoying and she hates you.” His voice was neutral, but I could detect some undertones of amusement. I agreed it must have been an amusing sight.

I laughed lightly and finished my coffee in one gulp. The game was on.

Now that Hoseok was free of his prison, he went back to flitting between the docks and ships like a mother bird trying to take care of all of her young. Jin was similarly busy by his practice, so he also missed out on all of the fun. Namjoon kept saying he was above messing with the police, even though I caught him sneaking smirks and grins every now and then, and Kookie was just as disapproving as ever of my tactics. Jimin tried to stay neutral as he hadn’t met her yet, but thoroughly enjoyed our shenanigans.

That left me and Tae on the shit-stirrer team, and we did milk it for as long as we could. Just the ultimate annoyances, hoping to send her into a complete rage over this. She still had the tracker regularly on her, so we were forced to assume she was none the wiser, but the longer it dragged on the more suspicious I was becoming.

Once she started showing up to the office regularly, cheshire grin firmly plastered on her face, tracker still firmly attached to her, I pretty much guessed she must have known. Suddenly I was spending my afternoons making her tea and watching her leisurely stroll about my office, studying every inch of it and grinning from ear to ear. I waited patiently for her next move, and admittedly, I found myself quite excited with this game we were playing with each other. She was a fast learner and had a quick wit, and I did appreciate her readiness to throw all laws aside to try to stick it to a guy that mildly annoyed her once. The anticipation was steadily rising the longer we just danced around and pretended we both knew nothing.

I did start to slip. I watched her move about less, focused more on work. I would always suddenly shake myself out of the work-induced haze to find her still sitting at the sofa curiously eying everything in the office like a little kid first time in an amusement park. But while we were in this strange stale-mate, I didn’t dare refuse her visits. I was truly curious, dying to know her next move, especially since she suddenly became such a showman.

I didn’t immediately realise what was happening when she suddenly stopped showing up. One day she was sitting there, smirking up a storm, and the next there was no trace of her. I found myself walking around my office, inspecting the objects at display and the decorations, trying to catch anything different. I even allowed Jungkook to thoroughly comb through the room to make sure there weren’t any planted bugs or things in the same vein, but the space was clean.

We kept checking on the tracker app, but it became quite obvious immediately she had gotten rid of it, as it was moving in areas that she never went to. So she did know. And she did do something.

It wasn’t until two days later, when Jungkook stormed my house and decided to comb through my clothes with a device detector; and found a corner of my coat beeping curiously. I had to stop him from tearing into it in his haste to find out what she planted on me, and instead took it upon myself to inspect the piece of clothing. I managed to find a small tear and smirked at her craftsmanship. I fished the little gadget out and handed it over to the younger man.

Jin and Hobi were sitting on the couch watching this whole ordeal go down with curious, slightly amused and mildly alarmed faces, but I wasn’t too worried about it. Jungkook was grumbling something next to me, but I paid him no mind. My fingers felt something else slipped into the coat and I was trying to get a hold of it. By its thinness and elusiveness, it must have been a piece of paper.

“It’s a tracker, similar to what we planted on her,” I heard him explaining it to the other men present, but suddenly exclaimed in victory, startling the three men, as I finally managed to pull the mysterious note out. I took a single look at it and burst out laughing.

They snapped their eyes to me and Jungkook immediately rushed to my side as if prepared to defend my life against a piece of paper. I lifted my gaze to look at their confused faces and flipped the paper around for them to see.

fuck you min yoongi :p

Only Hobi seemed to be as amused by it as I was, Jungkook deliberating something silently and Jin watching us all like a hawk, his sharp eyes taking in the interaction with burning interest.

Once I had calmed down and sent Kookie off to the office to get Joon and figure out what to do about the little device, I found myself sitting between the two other oldest of the group, amusement slowly slipping into nervosity. I knew them well enough, I could see the cogs turning in their heads, I could feel they were on the doorstep of a discovery, and I wouldn’t like the conversation that would follow, but I truly didn’t expect Jin to just jump into it head first.

I had leaned towards the table to grab one of the snacks Jin had graciously prepared for us, when he cleared his throat.

“Kookie had been talking to me a lot about how this whole situation is unfolding. Hobi too,” Jin said, seemingly just holding mindless conversation, but I still tensed up. I turned to look at him.

“Yeah?” I turned to the other side to look at Hobi, who avoided my eyes.

“Yeah,” Jin reiterated, his voice gravelly, “So can you fucking explain to me why have you been testing this cop like you did the boys before they joined?”

Series masterlist | Previous part | Next part

Taglist (open) : @wobblewobble822 @viankiss @jjkwifestyle

[from-izzy]

yesterday's petal | nct na jaemin

“I see.” A petal of yesterday falls. “I’ll take care of them now.”

pairing » nct na jaemin x gn!reader (lmk if i missed anything!)​

trope/au » ​non-idol au!, established relationship au!

genre » angst! just full angst!, grief and longing, reader remembering all the good times spent with jaemin, hurt and hope to move on, boyfriend na jaemin who took care of you so well, and you who loved him as much as he loves you

word count, estimated reading time » 1628, ~6 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » major character death, grief and loss, sorry not proofread 😭

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 part of 'especially to you...'

didn't think that my first nct story on this app would be this but...i needed this badly...

i am also getting back into nct! i might be able to go to dream's concert this year and i'm so excited! feel free to send me some nct content and help me catch up hehe

but other than that...

in a world where everyone seems to fit in so well and so easily...i hope that someday things will be better for me 🫂

With the amount of times you hit the door frame against the overhanging bell of the shop, it’s no surprise that the older woman recognises you.

Usually, she greets her customers brightly, especially those who look nervous and overwhelmed by her overflowing love and care towards the flowers that she prides herself on. At first, it was like that for you too, but the brightness of it all only lasted a few milliseconds at most.

She’s not new to her job; no, she’s not. She’s been doing this for years, having been brought up to it by her mother who has heavily influenced her to decorate all kinds of events with the delicate being, bringing in colours from one corner of the room to the other. But she knew the second you walked in her door without having to take your hat, scarf or sunglasses off, that you’re different from any of the other customers.

She can sense it from far away: a heart that has stopped beating. Amidst the chaotic, busy world, where most of the time a pin cannot be heard even in the library, she can feel the dejected feeling that your heart clenches painfully and that it never begs to differ. She wonders if you’ve always been like this or if you change under a different circumstance. Did her shop remind you of something unpleasant? Was it making you remember a painful memory that you never want to revisit ever again? 

But you always kept coming back. If not every day, every second day. And this, without fail.

She wishes she had the courage to ask why the corners of your lips have never raised, why your hands are always limped by your side, swaying tirelessly beside your even tired heart. She wishes she could ask why your eyes are always so puffy and sometimes bloodshot when you bow to her as a greeting whenever you exit. And, she would always wonder the reason behind why you would pick up the same flowers every time. Again, with the number of times you visit, she wonders if you’re giving them away or if you just like to fill your room, and perhaps at this point house, just like her.

She never asks because of the way you held the stem of her flowers between your hands. It’s an interesting way to handle her art: you rest the bottom of the stem on your palm with your fingers curving up to make a little bowl while the fingers of your other hand are curled towards the centre of your palm, the little circle however always big enough that when you step over to the counter, the green stalk bounces around the circumference of the circle as you take your step towards her.

Just like every other day, you tapped your card on the machine and left after mouthing a ‘thank you’ when the affirmatory tick was displayed on the screen, a pair of curious eyes behind your slumped shoulders.

Your feet take you to the place that you go to every day, the navigation of getting there already deeply ingrained in you to even try and suppress. With each step, comes the setting of the city that you used to walk with your beloved boyfriend. So many memories are spent in every turn of the city, with every store being visited once whether it be a cafe or a baby clothing store. There was usually no purpose to your visits but the hand that held yours tightly made you remember that sometimes roaming around with no purpose brings the best moments in life. 

The scent of the ramen shop across the street makes you hold your breath for a second, not wanting to trigger the accompanying cilantro scent that your nose remembers. The whirring of the coffee machine that you just passed only makes the inside of your mouth dry, remembering the unhealthy shots of caffeine that your boyfriend would drink without a thought in mind. The uneven paths of the ground play with your balance but this time, Na Jaemin isn’t here to hold on to you or even playfully joke around with you to say that he will ‘never let you fall the same way you already fell for him now’.

God, you just want to experience them again.

The way your friends found their significant others while you mull over the fact that Jaemin has left and will never come back. Not in this life, at least. So many times you would pray that you’ll find someone else but even when another person has shown interest in you and you accepted their offer to take you out on a date, you find yourself only thinking of Jaemin endlessly. 

At first, you thought he cursed you. Just like how he would say he would if you ever woke him up from his after-school nap even though it was supposed to be a movie date at the cinemas. 

But now you know that you’re just not ready for the change that took away the only person who loves you and that you love back an infinite times more. You’re not ready to have another person holding you, kissing you and whispering sweet nothings to you no matter your mood. 

You just want Na Jaemin back.

“Hey…” You arrive at your destination, the glossy stone reflecting the sullen look on your face, hair messy both from the win and simply not caring about readjusting it back; that was supposed to be Jaemin’s thing after all. “How are you doing today?”

Your choice of clothing today is questionable: white shorts when you know that you will be sitting down on the ungrassed Earth. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop you because all you wanted after a tiring day of high school and trailing behind your friends who had their arms joined with the love of their life, is to just talk to Jaemin in a more eye-levelled state. 

The conversations are endless and you make sure not to leave the slightest bit of detail from the day. You try your hardest to be positive, knowing well that Jaemin will always like you that way but one of the reasons why you love him is because if you did cry, he would still love and care for you without judgement or doubt. And the realisation that you’ll never see those eyes that you have fallen in love and would get lost in sinks in again.

You sob. Cry. Weep. Bawl. 

You could scream. Yell. Shout.

And it’s killing you inside all the same.

“I’m so tired of being so lonely when there’s so many people around me, Nana.” Your chin rests on your folded knees to your chest, arms around your legs but hands still holding the flower the same as before. “I’m so tired of being jealous of my friends that they’re still making happy memories with their other person.” The tears stream down your face even more, gulping down your sorrows and pain.

You relish how the coldness of the wind numbed your cheek; at least you’re feeling something.

“I do believe that the time when everything will be better will come and I do believe that the more I understand my feelings, it will get better eventually,” you sniff and gasp out of air, “but I still wish that I didn’t have to rely on time. I wish that I didn’t have to delve in deep and go through all of this.”

His name engraved on the stone only made it harder for you to see anything, your tears blurring your surroundings and the wind only making you cry harder. You take in a shaky breath and though it was not satisfactory, you’re still thankful that it gave you a little more energy to get lost in the feeling of grief.

“I love you.” You repeat a few more times. “And I hope that someday, whenever I hear your name, only the good memories and things you taught me will replay in my head.”

Your fingers reach over to the curves and lines of his name and you smile remembering how his mother included you in the font and general typography, knowing how much the relationship that you both shared has always been a healthy one for both ends. You continue to run over the engraving more, moving your hand back and forth. You continue to blurt out your last few moments of the day along with your plans for the next twenty-four hours before you would rant to him again.

But like you said, time will eventually come and make it all better and currently, the heaviness in your chest is more bearable now. You jump up to your more stable feet, eyes on the flowers that cover the front side of the base. Slowly, you laid the new one between the ones from before. You stare at how it finds its place so easily despite being only introduced a few seconds ago, and you nod at how it may not be you anytime soon.

As you spare a final glance at the fresh flower on top of the one that you just gifted him yesterday, you note the peace that it’s finally been given, still and no longer twirling and swirling in the circle that you have made for it.

When you walk away, the flower looks at how you drag your feet across the soil, and the yesterday flower whispers, “They're still the same as yesterday.” A message that has continued and passed on from the very first one that you laid in hopes of Jaemin knowing that he’s never forgotten.

“I see.” A petal of yesterday falls. “I’ll take care of them now.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 'especially to you...'

tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here or removed!): @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿 @sanaxo-o

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request the obey me brothers with an s/o who works as a bunny girl at a bar?

Obey me Brothers + Bunny Girl s/o

Lucifer

Lucifer didn’t like being here.

He made an effort every year to do the bunny-butler event; at first to help his community, but then with Lord Diavolo asked. However, he never really liked it.

The only thing he did like about it was meeting [Y/N]. They were bright, helpful, and clearly too classy to be in a posh, but over sexualized, place like this.

“What can I get you gentleman?”

“Ah! [Y/N]!” Lord Diavolo cheered happily when they came over to greet their table. It was the only reason he would be in here ‘out of season’. He hated seeing them at work. “You look so cute!”

“Thank you Lord Diavolo.” [Y/N] replied with their coquettish smile as they took his drink order. “And for you sir?”

“Just water.” Lucifer replied in a gruff tone. To which [Y/N] just kept smiling and went to get their drinks. “I’ll be back.”

He caught [Y/N] just as they were coming back out of the service bar and got their attention. “Why do you insist on continuing to work here?”

“Because it’s my job?”

“You know what I mean. You could work anywhere. Or, nowhere. You know I would take care of you.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be a kept woman.” Lucifer sighed. He knew that. “Besides, it’s not so bad. I make a lot of tips. I met a lot of interesting people. It’s pretty interesting, and there are worse jobs.”

“There are jobs with more clothes.” [Y/N] chuckled.

“I have to get my tables taken care of, but I’ll be back by and we can sit together on my break.” She snuck in and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before anyone saw. Lest someone see and think that was a bunny service anyone could get. “Now, I have to work and you need to get back to your table. No loitering on the floor when bunnies are at work.”

“I know, I know…” He remembered that from his training and went back to his table. Not happy, but also not willing to argue.

Mammon

Mammon grumbled in his VIP seat. Shoulders tucked into the soft purple leather, with his arms crossed, as he stared across the room in anger.

He used to love coming here. The lights. The people. The vibe. It was one of the reasons he pushed for his brothers to help out when they were in trouble. That and his crippling tab debt he couldn’t pay off. But now it wasn’t the same.

“Is everything alright Mr. Mammon?” A cute, and sweet, bunny waitress asked when they came over to check on him as he hadn’t touched his drink.

“I want a different bunny.”

She seemed shocked. “Oh. Is there something I did? Am I not meeting your service expectations?”

“No. I want that one.” He pointed across the room at [Y/N] who was giggling with another table.

“I’m sorry sir. [Y/N]-bun is busy with that other group of customers. If you’d like I could.”

“No I want that one!” He insisted again, sitting upright. “Isn’t VIP supposed to mean I get whatever I want? I want that bunny. Send her over!”

The poor girl seemed taken aback and shuffled off. Heading over to [Y/N] and whispering in her ear, before she looked over at him. She didn’t seem happy, which made him gulp, but then pulled on a smile before she waved to her guests and came over. “Being in VIP means you get whatever you want?”

“Isn’t that what it’s supposed to mean….” He pouted and crossed his arms as, he could tell, he was not going to get what he wanted.

“No. It doesn’t. It means you get special treatment. Which in your case special treatment you don’t pay for as the owner is eternally grateful.” Ooo, that one stung a little bit as she reminded him of his cash flow problems. “But it doesn’t mean you get to berate my co-workers or act like an ass. Miranda is practically crying in the bathroom.”

“It’s not my fault those dumb dumbs didn’t sit me in your section like I asked!”

“It’s a big club Mammon. They can’t accommodate everyone’s request, even if we are dating. My section is pretty busy and you would be waiting for hours.”

“I would have waited for you!”

The demon huffed and slumped back into his seat. Morosely drinking his carrot juice cocktail. [Y/N] sighed.

“I know you’re the Avatar of Greed honey, but you can’t always get what you want.” He grumbled into his drink. “If you can be patient and nice to the other servers, I’ll come over after this table is done and we can hangout while the girls do their jobs. VIP entitles you to 2 bunnies.”

“Really?”

“Don’t get any ideas.” He clicked his teeth. “Now, I’m gonna have Miranda come back over here; if she’s even willing. You will apologize, and leave her a big tip. Understood?” He nodded. “Good. And, try to be happy Mammon. You’re bringing down the whole vibe with that pout.” He flinched a little when [Y/N] cutely tapped his nose, but still blushed. He supposed he could be patient.

Levi

“Let me see! Let me see!”

“Levi! Calm down! I can only get this thing on so fast!” [Y/N] whined from inside their walk-in closet as they tried to put their new outfit on.

The club was doing a promotional Fantasy Follies night. Where in, aside from just dressing up like bunnies, the girls would be themed to look like other bunny themed characters the fantasy genre. You know, bunny princess, bunny queen, bunny fairy.

As the most popular bunny on call at the moment, [Y/N] had the honor of dressing up like bunny Alice from Alice in Wonderland. One of the more notable, and elaborate, costumes done up for the event.

“You know you could just come down to the club and see it. I’m not really supposed to be wearing this until the event.”

“I hate people.” Levi answered. As if they needed reminding. “Besides, I won’t post any spoilers. I wouldn’t do that. But I need to see it before anyone else does. So please, please, please hurry up!”

“Ok, ok!” [Y/N] stepped out in a huff. Their hand on their hip just about the brocade skirt. “Satisfied!?”

Levi just sat on his beanbag chair in complete silence. To the point that [Y/N] thought he hated it and maybe it was all wrong. “KAWAII!!”

He jumped up and started taking pictures. “You look so cute! What is this skirt made out of?! Look at the stitching! It’s so intricate!”

“Don’t touch it or you’ll smudge.” [Y/N] told him. Giggling a little now that their panic was over.

“Sorry! Sorry! I’ll be good.” Levi said as he took one last picture. “I wish I could be there….”

“You know you could be?” There was always an open spot for Levi at one of her tables.

“No. I’d rather stay here.” Which was no surprise.

He sunk back into his beanbag chair and was already scrolling through is pictures. [Y/N] chuckled. “I’ll bring you back some carrot cake.” She told him, before kissing the top of his head and leaving for work. He seemed to busy with his pictures to notice but was happy with the cake when she got home.

Satan

*he chose to stay home and read a book*

Asmo

It was a typical night at the club for [Y/N]’s shift. The customers were consistent and happy. Everyone was working together to make sure things were covered. The floor show was doing well. Everything was on track for the night.

Suddenly, [Y/N] heard some loud shouting & cat calls behind her and she turned around. Cat calls weren’t uncommon in a bunny bar, but the ruckus was a bit more flamboyant than usual. Curious, [Y/N] sat her customer’s drinks down and went over to investigate the large group that had gathered around the dance floor.

“Asmo!”

The demon of lust turned around and beamed with a wave. “Hi [Y/N]~!”

“What are you doing?!” She asked as she pushed through the throng closer to him.

“I came to see you at your job. And, have a little fun.” He wiggled his butt like a little cottontail to thunderous applause.

[Y/N] grit her teeth. “We talked about this. You can’t wear our uniform in here.”

“No. Technically you said I couldn’t wear the men’s uniform in here.” He corrected. “This is the girls uniform. Look! We match!”

[Y/N] grabbed Asmo’s hand and dragged him off to the back; his fan’s complaining behind him. “Asmo, this is my job. This isn’t a game. This is where I come to make money and I need to be professional. I can’t do that when you come in here like it’s some big joke and cause a scene like this. You’re going to get me fired.”

Asmo’s beautiful face fell. “Oh…I didn’t think about that….” It was clear in his expression that he hadn’t. Only focused on himself and his good time, spending it with [Y/N]. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause problems. I’m sure it’s hard for the girls to have someone as beautiful as me steal the spotlight. Not you, obviously. But some of them.” She chose to ignore that. “I’ll go home and change, and come back as a regular customer. Would that help?”

“I think it would be best if you just went home for the night, and came back tomorrow.”

Asmo moaned in disappointment but didn’t fight. He was pretty good at taking his lumps when he got them. “Do you think my outfit is cute by the way?” He asked quickly before he left.

[Y/N] sighed, but with a smile. “Yes. It’s very cute.”

“I knew it!” He beamed, before trotting off in his high heels back home.

Beel & Belphie

[Y/N] loved working at the bar. In her opinion it was the best place to work in all of the Devildom.

The owner and management prided itself on having the best drinks, the best bunnies, and the best customers. People at the club were usually very civilized, polite, and courteous. But, every now & then, someone would slip through the cracks in the system. Fine, at first, until they got a few drinks in them.

“Come over here baby! Come sit on my lap!”

“That’s not really a bunny service we’re offering at the moment.” [Y/N] replied, through smiled, gritted teeth, as they tried to clean the booth of all the bottles & glasses in the area. He didn’t know it yet, but he was cut off. They were all just trying to run out the clock, instead of cause a scene by asking him to leave. “Can I get you anything else? Some water before you tab out?”

“Bullshit! Bring me another one of those carrot things.”

“Unfortunately, sir, the bar is closing.” She replied. “Would you like me to get you that water & your check now?”

“Yeah I guess…” Oh thank God. “What are you doing after work?” Oh jeez…..

“Going home to soak my feet.” She replied. ‘Gross’ stuff, like breaking character, usually got them out of their fantasy and moved on.

Not the case with this one. “Home hn? Well, I’ll join you.” The customer stood up. Through great effort and force of will to stay upright. “Where are we going?”

“I’m going to call you a cab.” [Y/N] replied. Starting to feel like this was going to be an issue. “You can go wherever you would like.”

“Hey! I paid for you!” The man drunkenly reached out and grabbed her arm. Causing her tray and the glasses to fall. “I gave you a lot of money and you didn’t give me the service I want! So either pay-up, or I’m calling your boss! I know the owner!”

“Let go of me!” [Y/N] shouted. Trying to pull away from the customer, but it was hard with their drunk strength. He kept jerking at her until [Y/N] eventually lost her footing and fell back on the couch. The man towering over her.

But not for long.

Suddenly the man, with a horrible grin and glint in his eye, was lifted off his feet and into the air. He let go of [Y/N] and started flailing. Only to look over his shoulder and have his blood run cold as he locked eyes with orange burning flames. “You need to leave.”

Beel, who was usually very friendly and gentle, sounded very serious as he held the man up with one hand. He kept him there for a minute, prone, like when you held a cat by the scruff, before he dropped him. Scared and drunk, the man fell completely to the ground before he picked himself up and started yelling again. “Who do you think you are?!”

“Your worst nightmare.” Belphie slide out from behind his larger twin like an ominous shadow. “You should listen to my brother.” He then added, as it looked like the man was going to argue again. “He’s a much nicer person than I am. He’s giving you a chance. If it were up to me you wouldn’t have that disgusting hand that touched our [Y/N]. And you certainly wouldn’t have any of your other inferior parts to do what your repellent gnat size brain was just thinking about doing with her.”

Though Belphie was smaller, the man seemed to get the gist of the threat and ran away. Sprinting for the door as he likely pissed his pants. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We came to walk you home.” Beel answered as he offered his hand, the one holding your attacker aloft a moment ago, out to gently help you from your seat.

“You should have kicked that guy in the balls.” Belphie told you. Dabbing one of the cloth napkins in some water to literally clean the area where the man had touched you.

“It’s frowned upon to attack the customers.”

“You should have stabbed him.” He muttered. Seeming to ignore the fact that that was a clean escalation from the original threat of ball kicking.

The manager came up to see what was the matter after it was all done, and you explained what happened. The customer was banned. You never saw him again.

You hope that it was just because of the ban, but you could never be sure. Belphie didn’t seem to want to comment on it further when asked, and Beel just always shoved whatever food he had in his mouth to avoid talking.