#and at work with other employees or customers (too scared + one-time interaction or low stakes interaction)

[spaghett-onaplate]

mutuals send me the strength to get through tomorrow

[hederasgarden]

Stand By Me - Part 1

Summary: When a local ranch hand’s attention evolves into something more sinister, Rhett Abbott becomes an unlikely source of comfort and protection for you. Pairing: Rhett Abbott x F!Reader Word Count: 4K (SORRY) Rating: Mature, future chapters will be explicit and 18+ only. Stalking, anxiety, panic attack, and Rhett being protective. Future chapters will include some violence. No spoilers for Outer Range. A/N: This will be a three part series. I cannot thank @wildbornsiren, @mayhem24-7forever and @callsign-phoenix enough for their help and support putting this together. Thank you @callsignhurricane for the absolutely gorgeous header.

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed this story. Your interactions keep me writing and inspired.

Masterlist

He’s back again, lingering at the front of the store by the power tool display.

Even though his straw hat is pulled low to shield his face, you know it’s him. Greasy strands of thin blond hair peek out from under his hat and you recognize the distinctive scar running down the side of his neck that disappears into his shirt. You don’t know his name, only that he’s a seasonal worker at one of the ranches outside of town. He came to the hardware store one morning weeks ago to buy supplies to fix a downed fence. Your conversation was brief, but even then he unsettled you. His gaze lingering too long, fingers brushing over the bare skin of your forearm as you turned to leave.

You tried to forget about the strange interaction until he started showing up like clockwork during your shifts. He never bought anything, just lingered and stared. When he did speak, it was always questions that were overly personal, though never quite bad enough for you to feel comfortable calling him out. Any space you tried to put between the two of you was quickly eaten up by his imposing frame. He made you feel small, vulnerable. After the first few times, you learned to stay behind the counter when he was in the store, anxious to face him without something between you.

By far, the worst was the strange little gifts you’d find on your car windshield after he left. They started small like your favorite flowers or little stuffed animals, but quickly escalated. Sometimes it was things you remembered mentioning that you needed to coworkers or customers. New gardening gloves when your old pair got a hole or a phone charger for the one that broke. A few times you found charcoal drawings of yourself tucked under the wiper. They were nearly all of your face and always done in achingly deep detail.

That’s when you went to the Sheriff; but he wasn’t much help. He made it clear that he thought you were overreacting, even going so far as to suggest that you should take the attention as a compliment. Deputy Joy had been more willing to listen, offering to sit outside the store and catch him in the act.

He never showed on the days she was there.

Things got worse when he asked you out and you politely declined, citing a boyfriend that didn’t really exist. His 'gifts' continued, but the tone shifted dramatically. Dead flowers and sketches torn or with your eyes scratched out. You tried to go back to the police station half a dozen times but always lost your nerve. Instead you kept quiet, embarrassed and scared, half hoping he’d lose interest or move onto the next town for work.

You didn’t tell anyone else until Cecilia Abbott caught you crying in your car early in front of the store one morning. She was a regular, coming in weekly for supplies or just to chat with the owner, Mr. Anderson, always with a kind word for you and the other employees. You didn’t want to tell her about the man. Then she knocked on your window, looking so concerned, and you couldn’t help it. You didn’t tell her everything though, feeling like somehow this whole situation was your fault. It was too embarrassing to share all the things he’d done so you downplayed it.

Even though she couldn’t do much, Cecilia made you feel heard and offered you her number. “Next time he shows I’ll send my husband down, he’ll straighten the man out.”

At the time, you accepted the slip of paper but declined her offer, worried any action would only make it worse. Now, you wished you had let her help. It’s only 30 minutes until you’re supposed to close up the store and he’s your only customer. It was already dark outside, the few lights that lined the main street flickering to life. You track him as he moves through the store, your foot tapping anxiously against the barstool. You're craning your neck to follow him when the air conditioner kicks in. The jarring, unexpected sound makes you jump and the stool scrapes against the floor loudly. He looks up, the brim of his hat lifting just enough for you to see a flash of his light green eyes and pale face before you look away. You can feel his gaze on you and the memory of his warm breath on your neck when he once stood too close to you resurfaces.

You press a shaking hand over your mouth. Fear and self-doubt war inside, making your early dinner sit like a stone in your stomach. Before you can think too hard about it, you pick up the old phone by the register and pull out the crumpled paper from your pocket. Cecilia answers on the third ring, her soft, familiar voice a comfort as she greets you.

“I hate to bother you so late,” you whisper, twisting the cord of the phone around your finger. “But…” you begin, only to trail off, feeling stupid for calling her. “Nevermind, it’s nothing,” you continue quietly.

“He’s back honey, isn’t he?” She questions, the concern in her voice clear.

“Yes and I’m closing tonight.” You pause and lean to the right, looking past the register to check he’s still in the shop. He's lingering at the front display again, far enough away you can’t exactly tell what he’s doing. “I’m probably blowing this out of proportion–”

She cuts you off with an empathetic sound. “No. You’re not. I’ll send Royal or one of the boys up. Old Mr. Anderson shouldn’t be having a woman closing up all on her own anyhow.”

The relief you feel is immediate but underneath is the ever-present worry that you’re making a bigger deal out of this than you need to. It’s a 20 minute drive into town for whoever she sends to help. What if they thought you were wasting their time, like the sheriff did?

“Cecilia, I…I,” you stammer.

She makes a soft sound and you close your eyes. “It's not a problem, honey. You sit tight.”

After you hang up, the minutes seem to crawl by. You split your time watching the clock and trying to keep track where the man is in the store. It’s hard to concentrate. Every little creak of the old wooden floor and any flash of movement sends an anxious spike of adrenaline through your heart. At 9:55 you stand and lock the register, bending down to retrieve your purse from under it. When you straighten up, the man is standing on the other side of the counter. You flinch and trip back and his hand shoots out to grasp your wrist.

“Woah there, baby girl." He practically purrs the words, sending a shiver of disgust down your spine. “You’re jumpy tonight.”

An automatic apology is tumbling from your lips before you can call it back. He smirks, leaning forward and you tug your hand away, holding it tightly to your body. He stares at you without speaking for a long moment until the bell over the door jingles. He turns immediately, an unhappy tick in his jaw, but you breathe out in relief.

It’s Rhett Abbott, Cecelia’s youngest son. You don’t know him well, never moving past exchanging pleasantries whenever he came into the store or you saw him around town though you nursed a crush on him from afar throughout high school. Tonight he looks like he came straight from work, wearing dirty jeans and a blue button-up shirt over a white henley, sleeves rolled up to expose his tan forearms. He tips his hat when he sees you, cutting his gaze to the man in front of you.

“Think I forgot something,” the man says suddenly, his eyes darting angrily away from you to stare at Rhett. "Why don’t you help your new customer while I go find it."

He takes off down the middle aisle, keeping watch on Rhett’s progress towards you. You know the man is waiting for you to be alone again. The realization kicks up your anxiety even more and you have to clasp your hands together to keep from shaking.

“Hey,” Rhett greets, setting his hat on the counter and leaning forward on his elbows. His hair has grown longer since you last saw him, curling under his tan jaw but his blue eyes are just as intense and beautiful as you remember. “Ma said you got an admirer,” he tells you, a single brow raised. He glances over his shoulder briefly and then returns his attention to you. “I’ll walk you to your car after you lock up.”

“Thank you,” you tell him, slipping the strap of your purse over your shoulder.

Rhett straightens up and you look past him, meeting the pair of pale green eyes that watch you through the shelves. A cold rush of fear washes over your body and you make a little sound, something between a wheeze and whimper. You’re frozen in place, heart beating wildly. Rhett says your name but you can’t make yourself respond until he lays a hand on your arm. You flinch at his soft touch, your scared gaze jumping back to him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Rhett asks. “Did he do something to you?”

A tear slips down your face, betraying what you want to so desperately hide. You shake your head, staring into his kind eyes and concerned face. You’re afraid that once you start, you won’t be able to stop. Rhett’s face darkens and he rises to his full height. Your arm shoots out, twisting the loose fabric of his open shirt to hold him in place.

“Don’t. Please.”

“Alright, it’s okay,” he soothes, stepping back up to the counter. His hand settles over yours and he squeezes, thumb brushing across the back of your hand. “I’m just gonna ask him to leave, alright? Nothing else.”

“Okay,” you agree, scared for more than just yourself this time. You have no idea what the man might do when confronted or if he would hurt Rhett for trying to help you.

You hold your breath when Rhett walks away, straining to hear whatever quiet conversation he has with the man. You expect him to argue or maybe cause a scene but their conversation is brief. He looks back at you, jaw clenched, and then stalks off towards the front of the store. Rhett follows him to the door, locking it behind him and flipping the sign from open to closed. Despite the clear dismissal to leave, the man remains outside watching.

Rhett makes his way to you, but doesn’t stop at the counter, rounding it to get close enough to lay a hand on your shoulder. His touch is nothing like the man’s; it’s light, meant to soothe and comfort. You stare up at him, watching him frown when he sees the man is still there. In response, Rhett gently pushes you towards the back storeroom until you’re both hidden from the view of the front windows.

Until you’re hidden from him.

“What’s going on?” Rhett asks, careful to keep his tone soft.

Your throat constricts and when you open your mouth, a little sob comes out, your shoulders shaking. Everything you’ve been holding back these past few weeks comes out in an uncontrollable rush. Your breaths come in short little gasps for air, your chest heaving. Rhett looks so alarmed that it only makes you cry harder. He doesn’t seem to know what to do, looking everywhere but at you. Then, after a moment of hesitation, he shifts forward and his strong arms encircle your body.

He holds you against him tightly, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head while other rests along your lower back. You’re not sure if he’s speaking actual words or just making some kind of low sound meant to soothe you. Either way, it works. As the low warble of his voice slowly penetrates your panicked mind, you suck in a deep lungful of air.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Breathe for me. I got ya. You’re safe.”

You realize for the first time that you actually are safe, protected in his arms. You sag against him and Rhett grunts, absorbing your weight. For several long moments you stay like that, face buried in his chest and his chin resting atop your head. He speaks to you like a spooked animal, but you can't even find in yourself to feel embarrassed. It feels good to be held and reassured when you’ve been scared for so long.

Only after you fall quiet in his arms does Rhett pull back and look at you, searching your face. He doesn’t have to ask the question again, you know what he wants to know.

“I’m sorry,” you start, wiping at your face. There’s a wet patch on Rhett’s shirt from your tears.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he assures you. “Just tell me what’s going on. Did he touch you? Hurt you?” He demands.

“I think he might want to,” you admit quietly. You’re not sure how to tell him just how awful these last few weeks have been. How scared you are. “I went to the Sheriff when it all started…” You trail off and Rhett scoffs, his opinion on the older man clear.

“It started when he began leaving me gifts. They weren’t so bad at first… Then he asked me out. I lied and said I had a boyfriend. I thought he might take that better than me just saying no, but he got scary after that.”

“Scary how?” Rhett presses, forehead wrinkling.

You close your eyes, ashamed.

“You can tell me,” Rhett encourages, a knuckle under your chin tipping your face back. Your skin tingles where he touches you.

“It might be easier to show you…” you tell him, reaching into your purse to pull out your phone.

You unlock it and bring up your camera roll before handing it to him. A muscle in his jaw jumps as he scrolls through the photos of all the gifts the man left you. You’d taken care to document everything on the advice of Deputy Joy, not that the Sheriff cared to look at the evidence.

“Does he know where you live?” He asks.

You shake your head. “I don’t think so. I’ve only found the gifts here.”

“But you’re not sure?” He presses.

“No,” you admit.

“Right, I’m driving you home,” Rhett says, handing your phone back. “I’ll bring you back to get your car tomorrow.”

You want to tell him no, worried about how much of his time you’ve already wasted. He was only here at Cecelia’s insistence, and he probably had a pretty girl waiting for him at The Handsome Gambler.

“You don’t have to,” you tell him.

“I want to,” he assures you,

There’s something in the way he looks at you that bleeds away any argument. “Okay,” you agree.

On the way to his truck, Rhett keeps his hand on your upper back, his body close to yours. His sharp blue eyes survey the empty street as he urges you along. Even though there is no sign of the man you know that doesn’t mean anything. There are pockets of darkness between the buildings and he could be in any one of them.

Watching. Waiting.

When you shiver, Rhett shifts his palm higher on your back, hand curling so his blunt fingernails catch on the patch of skin at the base of your neck. It's such a simple gesture but it does so much to calm you.

“It’s alright, I’m here” he assures, opening the car door and waiting until you’re buckled in before shutting it firmly.

You give him your address and he puts the truck in gear, pulling out onto the empty street. Both of you watch the rear view mirror for any sign of lights or a vehicle. There’s none but you don’t relax. Rhett doesn’t talk, fiddling with the stereo until an old bluesy country song crackles over the radio. A little of your anxiety subsides and you relax into the old leather seats. Every few minutes you can feel his eyes on you, but you stare straight ahead, unused to the weight of someone else's worry.

He slows the truck down when he turns onto your street, searching in the darkness for your house number.

“That’s me.” You point to a two-story house at the end of the street. “I’m on the second floor.”

It’s an older home, dated and frankly falling apart in places. The lady who owned both units, a woman in her 70s named Mabel, gave you a good deal on the rent. It was worth it to have your own space though now, as you stared up at the dark windows with a sense of foreboding spreading through your chest, you wished you didn’t live alone.

Rhett seems to sense your hesitation and reaches out to touch your shoulder. “Want me to come up for a bit? Check it out?"

“It’s silly, I’m sure everything is fine,” you tell him.

“It ain't,” Rhett says earnestly. “You have every right to be scared.”

It’s a relief to have someone take you seriously, but the disquiet in Rhett’s eyes chases away any comfort that knowledge brings because it’s clear he thinks you're in real danger.

“If you don’t mind, maybe you can come up…”

“Give me your keys,” he says, holding out his hand. “Lock the doors after I get out, okay?”

He doesn’t move until he’s sure you’ve heard him. You nod, doing as he asks after he takes off. It’s a long five minutes, waiting in the truck for him to return. You pick at your nails and chew on your upper lip, old anxious habits that give you a little bit of relief, though it’s not until you see him jogging back down that you feel like you can finally breathe.

“It’s all clear, come on,” he says, holding onto your elbow to steady you as you exit the car.

He follows close behind as you walk up the stairs, shutting the front door firmly behind him once you’re both inside. You drop your purse on the couch, eyes wandering around your apartment. It appears the same as you left it this morning but you can’t help looking at everything with fresh, suspicious eyes.

Rhett says your name softly and you turn to face him. He’s watching you, waiting.

“Thank you for everything,” you tell him sincerely, wanting him to understand how much you appreciate his kindness. “For driving me home and for, um, caring.”

You don’t even realize you’re wringing your hands until he steps forward and settles a large hand over yours to stop the nervous tick. The warmth from his touch takes the tension from your shoulders. You stare up at him, just breathing and soaking up his touch. He takes a step closer, saying your name quietly but before he can continue, his phone rings. You jerk back on instinct at the shrill sound, his hand falling away from yours. Rhett purses his lips and looks down at the screen.

“It’s my mother,” he says. “Probably wants to make sure you’re okay.”

“Please tell her thanks.”

Rhett nods. "Hey Ma,” he greets, turning away from you.

You move towards the kitchen, feeling like you should offer him a cup of coffee or at least a beer for the trouble you’ve put him through. You also want to give him some privacy, though the walls are thin and you catch pieces of his conversation anyway.

“Not exactly," you hear Rhett say. "It's worse than she let on.” There's a beat and then he speaks again. “I’m a little worried he might. Thinking I should spend the night outside in my car just in case.” Another pause. “Yeah, I know. Not exactly my first night sleeping in the truck, Ma.”

It’s already cold outside and you know the temperature will continue to drop the later it gets. The thought of Rhett spending the night in his truck for you brings on a fresh wave of self doubt and guilt. You feel like you’re back in the sheriff’s station again, making a big deal out of nothing.

“I got my rifle in the truck. It’s fine,” he continues.

The mention of the gun surprises you, kicking up your heartbeat again. You creep back to the doorway to watch him. His back is to you, one hand parting your lace curtains to look out your window.

“Yeah, I thought so too. I'll see if I can get her to go back to the sheriff with me in the morning."

Anxiety crawls under your skin at the thought of having to face Sheriff Burtt again. He made you feel so small and silly last time, but maybe it would be different with Rhett at your side.

“Okay, love you too, Ma,” he says, hanging up. He seems surprised to see you standing in the doorway though he doesn’t act upset. Instead he looks a little concerned. “You alright?” He asks.

“You don’t have to sit out in the truck for me. It’s��� it’s probably okay,” you tell him, even though you don’t exactly believe the words yourself. You want to give him out.

“I’d feel better if I did,” says, closing the distance between the two of you. He slips his hat off and holds it to his chest, making sure he has your attention before continuing. “I want you to come with me to the sheriff’s tomorrow morning. I’m gonna make him listen, okay? We’ll get this handled.”

“I’ll go if you agree to sleep on the couch,” you offer. At least in your apartment he’d be warm and close by.

The corner of his mouth lifts up briefly as he watches you. “You drive a hard bargain, but I can agree to that.”

“I’ll get the spare linens and a pillow for you,” you tell him with a smile.

When you return to the living room he’s back at the window, watching the street outside. His hat sits on your coffee table. You make up the couch as best you can though there’s nothing you can do about the fact he’s too tall to fit comfortably. The realization adds to the guilty feelings you already carry.

“Much better than the truck,” Rhett assures you. “Thanks.”

You nod and leave him to get yourself ready for bed. It’s nearly 11pm and you’re exhausted. As you wash your face and go through your nightly routine, you’re overly aware of how easily every sound travels through the wall. You exchange your work clothes for your well-worn pajamas. Even though that helps you feel better, there’s still that low buzz of apprehension. You close your eyes and see the man’s scary green eyes again.

Your throat tightens in response and you move towards the door before you realize what you’re doing. Quietly, you creep down the hall to the living room, mindful of the rickety floorboards that could give you away. All the lights are off but you can make out Rhett’s sitting on the couch, hands resting on his thighs. He’s removed his blue shirt and wears only his white henley. The barest hint of golden stumble is visible along the sharp lines of his jaw. He sighs and leans back, tucking a hand under his head. The frantic beat of your heart slows and you stand there for several moments watching him.

Eventually, you withdraw and return to your room, sliding under the cool covers. You hardly know Rhett but there’s something about him that makes you believe everything will be okay. With him there sleep comes easy, you know nothing bad will happen to you.

✥

Chapter 2

[wri0thesley]

Congrats on 5555!!! Please can I have 21 (Cat Cafe au!) and 22 for Aizawa Please! <3

catpawccino - aizawa x reader (3k)

warnings: very light injury, sfw, fluffy

[a/n: no thoughts only cat puns]

You don’t have a favourite regular.

That kind of thing doesn’t do well when you’re running a business; if someone notices that another patron is getting special attention, they start to want it too, and it all snowballs from there. It’s especially important, you think, in a business like yours – owned by you, with two other part-time employees--

And the cats, who get paid in tins of tuna and expensive treats and the best veterinary treatment you can possibly afford (sometimes that you can’t afford). Sometimes they get adopted out, and you charge a paltry adoption fee for that – about enough to cover feeding the rest of the cats for, oh, a day or two?

But you don’t have a favourite regular. No favourite customers here!

If you did . . .

If you did, though, it would be him.

It’s not that the scruffy dark-haired man who comes in on Sundays and stays for the exact hour and a half his time slot allots is particularly special; he orders black coffee (though his tired eyes always linger on the cute pun names you’d given the other drinks; catpawccino, ameowricano, expurresso), he’s very quiet as he drinks it and watches the cats and occasionally glances at the work he brings with you, and he almost never interacts with any of the staff members beyond to greet them, order, and say ‘thank you’ when he leaves.

Here’s the thing, though: the cats love him.

You run a cat cafe, so of course you have a preference for social cats who like to be around people; but your cats are also rescues looking for new homes, and sometimes that means you have one or two shy little things who are still getting used to having people around.

You always know, when he comes in, that the shyest cats will end the day purring away either in his lap or on the chair beside him.

You don’t know how he does it. You do know, though, that when you see him come through the door, you feel a kind of weight lift off yourself. You’d offer him a job, if you could – heaven knows you’ve heard him occasionally speak sharply to someone who’s bothering one of the sleeping cats, his voice sharp-edged.

(Despite his general air of exhaustion and scruffiness, his warning had been surprisingly authoritative; the tone of a teacher. You’d figured that’s what he was when you’d seen him grading papers, once. You guess that a stressful job like that is enough to make anyone look scruffy and tired--).

You had spent two months desperately wanting to talk to him but being too scared of his slightly stand-offish aura and the snap you’d heard; it doesn’t matter that you’re the owner of the establishment. But then, one day, one of your newest and most skittish little pale orange cats had been startled by a rambunctious college student laughing too hard at something, and you’d watched with horror as it had clambered right up the man’s leg with its claws extended.

He’d let out a hissed breath of pain, and you’d rushed forward before you’d been able to think things through, quiet and soft and conscientious as always.

“I’m so sorry, Sir,” you’d whispered, your hands coming out to try and scoop the cat away. It did not want to come with you; it had, instead, buried its tiny head in the neck of the man’s dark sweater. “He’s still nervous, we’re trying to get him used to people--”

Your hand had brushed against the stubble on the man’s chin and you’d realised how close you were to him, how you hadn’t even asked if it was alright – and heat had rushed to your face. You’d pulled back.

“It’s okay,” he’d said, voice low and a little scratchy; from what you know about him, he’s a man of few words. Still, you weren’t quite expecting his voice to be so slow, monotone and controlled. You knew you wouldn’t sound like that if you’d just had twenty sharp kitten-claws digging into your poor skin. One of his own hands came up to pet the orange ball of fluff that was now headbutting him; the fingers dwarfing the kitten. “What’s his name?”

You blink at him. It takes you a moment to gather your thoughts together.

“Endeavpurr,” you tell him. The hero pun name seems very silly, said out loud, in front of this man’s even gaze and straight face. “H-he’s a rescue. We didn’t name him. T-the foster parent who took care of him until he didn’t need to be hand-fed or anything did.”

He keeps your gaze. You notice that he has red veins criss-crossing the whites of his eyes; he looks exhausted, and suddenly you want nothing more than to get him a hot chocolate and a blanket.

“That’s horrible,” he tells you, and you find yourself smiling. His hand hasn’t moved from petting the little bundle of fluff, fingers very careful.

“Yeah,” you say. “Hopefully whoever adopts him re-names him.”

He looks at you, his tired eyes lifting at the corners; he doesn’t smile, exactly, but you get the distinct impression that he approves of whatever you’ve just said, and heat blooms in your chest.

After that, he occasionally says things to you when you’re around on Sundays; you start finding that you schedule your shifts to coincide with his. You find out a couple of things about him; his name is Aizawa, yes, he’s a teacher (he doesn’t tell you where), he wouldn’t mind the hot chocolate but he’s afraid he’d just fall asleep where he was, he’d tried the other cafe on the other side of town but everyone there was always so chipper--

“We try to be a little slower-paced, here,” you say, with a smile, and he tickles the ears of the cat that’s currently laid in his lap, purring like a motorbike engine. “I think it’s better for the cats, honestly--”

“Me too,” he says, and you get the impression that the conversation is over, so you don’t pry any further and you go back to working on the account book behind the counter. Your cafe’s oldest resident, a large, black, one-eared cat named Buster, stands beside you and occasionally headbutts your arms for pats.

You don’t notice Aizawa looking up at you when he gets tired of looking at his paperwork. You don’t notice the light twist to the corners of his lips – half a smile, softer than he is with almost anyone. If you did, you probably wouldn’t know what to do with yourself.

You develop a crush on Aizawa.

Despite his rumpled appearance, his careful words, the fact that the other two members of your staff don’t like dealing with him (only you, it seems, get the privilege of his actual conversation), you find that you look forward to seeing him on a Sunday afternoon--

And the first time he doesn’t come, after three and a half months of being used to his presence, you’re disappointed.

Your cafe stays open until nine in the evening, but Sundays are always quiet anyway; you’re about to pack up that night when Aizawa walks through the door. He’s not dressed the way you usually see him; you’re pretty used to seeing him with his hair pulled back, in a dark sweater (that’s always covered in Endeavpurr’s orange cat hair when he leaves; the kitten has really taken a liking to him) – but today, he’s got a grey scarf wrapped around his neck, a thick belt slung about slim hips – and a rapidly darkening bruised scrape on one side of his face.

He looks bad, and you can’t help rushing towards him. He blinks at you as your arm wraps around him and you pull him to his usual table – in the corner, away from any fuss, though nobody is in the cafe at this time except you and twelve over-excited cats eager to see their favourite patron.

(Endeavpurr had been so mad that he hadn’t showed up at his usual time; the little orange cat had sat in front of the door, meowing angrily at every single customer who came through that wasn’t Aizawa, until you’d eventually had to pick up the yowling bundle of fluff and place him inside one of the cat beds dotted around the cafe so customers could come in and out without being interrogated as to Aizawa’s whereabouts. He’d eventually fallen asleep, but he’d still woken every ten minutes to open one eye and make sure the man hadn’t snuck in when he wasn’t paying attention).

“What happened?” You find yourself asking Aizawa, though you suppose you have no right to do so; he’s just your regular, after all. You don’t have any deigns on his life.

Aizawa looks up at you through half-lidded eyelids, sensing the worry in your expression. He looks as though he’s battling with telling you something – insomuch as you can read Aizawa’s expression, which often tends towards ‘blank’.

“Just work stuff,” he says, eventually, and you sigh as you turn away from him to duck under the counter and rummage around for the first-aid kit.

“Are your students feral?” You ask him, emerging with it – there’s a sticker you wrote attached to it, labelled ‘for cat-induced human injuries!’. You have a hot chocolate in the other hand; you’d been making one for yourself before he’d arrived, but you figured he could do with the boost. You rummage around inside of it until you find an antiseptic wipe, a gauze pad and some medical tape, and you advance towards him. This wins a small tilt of his eyebrows.

“Just one or two,” he tells you. He winces as you sit next to him on the sofa. You put the hot chocolate down in front of him, too, and he stares at it.

(You’ve never actually seen anyone sit near Aizawa, even when the cafe’s been busy; it’s like he radiates some kind of ‘don’t fuck with me’ energy).

“You really don’t have to,” he tells you, but you wag your finger at him.

“People accidentally get hurt by the cats all the time,” you tell him. “Hell, Endeavpurr nearly carved off my hand earlier when you weren’t here at your usual time--” You show Aizawa the bandage wrapped around your wrist.

Speaking of the devil, the orange demon cat – now no longer the size of a tangerine, but maybe a large grapefruit – has scrambled up onto the sofa on the other side of the man, chirping loudly in anguish about his abandonment.

“I’m sorry,” he says, very seriously, to the cat. You’ve never heard him use a baby voice with them; he speaks to them like they’re tiny adults who are just incapable of human speech. As you often feel as though the cats are far smarter than anybody who enters the cafe, you choose not to say anything.

“I think he forgive you,” you say, as Endeavpurr scrambles onto Aizawa’s lap.

You lean across with the antiseptic wipe.

“This’ll sting--” You warn him, but Aizawa makes no movement as you wipe the worst of the graze away (you surmise it’s probably from falling on the pavement, or something). You’re silent, concentrating, as you clean the affected area and apply the gauze pad, the medical tape--

It’s only after you’re done, and you lean back into the sofa beside him realising how worried you’d been, that Aizawa says, quietly;

“I could have done it myself. I have medical supplies in the belt.”

“O-oh?” Your eyes stray down to the belt. It’s a weird fashion choice, you suppose – the kind of thing worn by heroes, not ordinary men. “I’m sorry. I just—”

Heroes. You think about how Aizawa hasn’t told you what school he works at; you think about the outfit he’s wearing, the tired eyes, the presence that he gives off. You suddenly feel very stupid.

“I rushed here,” he says, quietly. “I wanted to get in before you closed.”

“Th-the cats appreciated that,” you say. Endeavpurr is living up to his name; purring away, curling up on Aizawa’s lap. Long, slim fingers brush the cat’s back, and for the first time you see a touch of agitation in the man. “They all really love you--”

“I didn’t come to see them,” he admits, carefully. Despite the level voice he’s speaking with, you get the impression he’s picking his words with the utmost precision. “Though. They don’t hurt.”

You feel your heart crash against your ribcage, your breath get caught in your throat. You know what you want him to be saying – but you’re not so self-absorbed to assume. You feel like you’ve caught him looking at you out of the corner of your eye, sometimes, but you’ve dismissed it as his eyes being droopy and tired and dark, hard to read--

“I’m glad you came,” you tell him, your own voice very dry. “I-- I like seeing you.” There. Out in the open. You figure you may as well go all in. You give him a gentle shrug. “Highlight of my week.”

Aizawa pauses. He does not flush – he’s so pale, you wonder if he’s capable of blushing – but his hands briefly tighten around the mug of hot chocolate (hot chococat, on the menu). You hear him swallow.

“Me too.”

You don’t know what he’s saying ‘me too’ about; being glad he came, liking seeing you, whether his visits to your little cafe are the highlight of his week too--

But you’re smiling. Looking into your lap. Most of the cats have taken up positions close to the two of you; their favourite inhabitants of the cafe. Endeavpurr is still in Aizawa’s lap, and the man is incredibly slow and careful not to disturb his feline companion as he leans forward and a hand wraps around your cheek.

He tastes like the hot chocolate. His stubble is abrasive against your skin, but not in a necessarily bad way; it sends pleasant shivers down your spine as you kiss him back, breathless, all of your thoughts just collectively deciding that it’s time to leave your brain as your favourite regular – yes, alright, you’ll admit it – kisses you. He can’t move much, without disturbing Endeavpurr (which clearly neither of you are willing to do), so you shift closer to wrap a hand into the mass of dark hair and sigh against his mouth, so his calloused thumb can skitter gently over your cheekbone. The entire world narrows to nothing but you, and him, and the soft sofa beneath you both. Aizawa’s other hand comes to rest on your waist, surprisingly powerful and strong.

You only pull back when the most outraged meow fills both of your ears.

You’re blinking, gasping, all of your thoughts muddled as you stare into Aizawa’s red-rimmed eyes. His mouth is tilted into a smile, the slightest hint of white teeth, and you almost want to cry because he looks so handsome like that. The smile falls away as he looks into his lap, to see Endeavpurr staring up at him balefully, his meows loud and infuriated.

Aizawa had the nerve to stop petting him to kiss you.

He looks down at the cat and gives him a slow stroke, saying in a firm voice that you immediately are able to pinpoint as the voice that Aizawa probably uses on his misbehaving students;

“That was rude.”

Endeavpurr does not care. He rubs his head against Aizawa’s hand, still making his incensed little noises.

“Someone asked about adopting him today,” you say softly. Aizawa’s head jerks, and your heart skips a beat.

“Oh.” He says.

“I . . . I said no,” you swallow.

“Why? He deserves a good home.” His voice is even deeper than usual. He isn’t looking into your eyes any more. You really hope that he doesn’t regret kissing you.

“I . . .” You breathe slowly. “I wanted to ask if you wanted to adopt him first.”

There’s a pause. Neither of you speak. The clock ticks in time with your too-fast heartbeat. You shouldn’t have asked, he’s probably really busy, you’re getting ahead of yourself--

“He’ll have to live on campus,” Aizawa says, eventually. “And he absolutely has to get a new name.”

“Y-yeah?” You ask. You let yourself smile. Aizawa looks back at you, and you realise that – yes, he’s capable of blushing, and yes, he’s doing it right now.

“I’ll get you a pass,” he says, confirming your thoughts that Aizawa is definitely a teacher at the hero school – and if he is, you think, that means he’s got to be a professional hero. You know that UA prides itself on that kind of thing. The injury he’d come in with today, then – the new outfit--

He probably thought you were so stupid as you insisted on taking care of him.

“A pass?” You ask him. Aizawa looks at you as though you’re being very slow.

“Seeing you around will help him calm down and get used to his new home,” he explains. You should probably have guessed that – being the proprietor of a cat cafe and all. In fact, you’ve regularly given other adopters favourite items and the like to take with their new cat, so they still have something familiar around them--

That probably wouldn’t work with Endeavpurr, whose favourite item appears to be Aizawa himself.

“And,” you hear him swallow again. “With him to take care of, I won’t have much time for the cafe any more.” His voice is very steady, very careful, and your heart feels like it’s dropped somewhere around your stomach. He’s just being sensible, about what’s good for Endeavpurr – carefully avoiding talking about the kiss, because he clearly regrets ever letting himself do it.

But he isn’t done.

One of his hands reaches out and rests on top of yours, fingers stroking over the bandage where you’d been savaged earlier by his new cat (name still to be determined.

“And,” he says, “I’d like to carry on seeing you.”

[dinosaurtsukki]

[ malt whiskey on ice ] 

pairing: chuuya nakahara x gn!reader (there’s an error in the header but i’m too lazy to edit it now i’m sorry)

word count: 2k words

@ah-kaashi​: dinooo im having chuuya brainrot hours right now ಥ⌣ಥ can i request a short fic of chuuya meeting bartender!reader at a bar and eventually starts pining for them? and he only goes to the bar to see them (ahh my heart) he probably would confess to the reader whilst drunk, thanks to his low alcohol tolerance :"

summary: chuuya has a crush on the cute bartender and tries to ask her out. unfortunately, drinking alcohol calms his nerves way too much

a/n: i’m--- i’ll just have a really long list of works under ‘chuuya nakahara’ at this point. also ahhh i hope you like this kei and sorry it took too long but i had so much fun writin this !!

“chuuya-san!”

chuuya could never get tired of hearing your bright, cheery voice greeting him as soon as he entered the bar, especially after a long and hard day. he smiles at you, fold his coat and leaves it on the counter beside him along with his hat.

“a good evening to you too, y/n,” he says.

“having your usual?” you asked, already getting out a glass.

“yes please.” 

chuuya knows it’s rude to stare, but he can’t help but do so as you prepare his drink. the fact that your humming easily puts a smile on his face reminds chuuya how much he has fallen for you.

“here you go,” you serve his drink up with a warm smile. “malt whiskey with ice.”

“expect some refills as usual later in the night,” chuuya joked.

“as long as i get to make sure you’re still able to drive home,” you chuckled. the bar was less than half-full tonight, something that chuuya was very much thankful for. you were an amazing bartender and you always interacted with your customers. chuuya was even amazed at how you could hold a conversation with anyone and remember all the stories that people would tell you.

but sometimes, he kind of wanted you all to himself. 

chuuya had been mulling that thought over for quite a long time: asking you out on an actual date instead of coming here every single night and looking at you longingly from across the counter. he did think he had a bit of a chance and you looked like you genuinely enjoyed talking to him and seeing him. but you were like that with everybody too.

“so, what’s been going on with you lately? finally finish that mission you’ve been stressing out on?” you asked while drying glasses behind the counter. chuuya smiled, dragging a gloved finger through the rim of his glass.

“well, if you’d really like to know...”

...

“you look like you’ve seen better days.” 

“huh?” chuuya blinked out of his thoughts to see the new bartender regarding him with a concerned expression. 

“you’ve been staring at your drink for the past... ten minutes...give or take,” you explained. “people do tend to stare at their drinks quite a bit but when it hits ten minutes that’s kind of raises an alarm for me,” you chuckled. “the ice even melted in your drink. want me to fix you a fresh one?” 

“ah, no. but thanks for the offer though,” chuuya smiled. “shame to waste good alcohol.”

“i hear you,” you shrugged with a smile. “so, wanna tell me what’s been going on?” you asked. “bartenders do make good listeners.”

chuuya raised an eyebrow up at you as he thought about what you said. “um, it’s kind of a long story and i don’t think i’m ready to get into it now,” he confessed.

“that’s fair,” you nodded your head. chuuya was grateful to you for giving him some space. actually, now that he thought about it, he was grateful to you for always greeting him with a smile and asking how he was, even when he came in with the sourest of moods. he knew it wasn’t easy to be a bartender, especially one whose clients were from the mafia.

“how about you though?” chuuya asked. “um, anything special happen to you recently?”

you looked genuinely surprised at the question which made chuuya think that people never really asked about you. “you know, no one’s ever really asked me that,” you chuckled. “but... it’s nice. thanks, nakahara-san.”

chuuya doesn’t know why, but his stomach was practically doing backflips when you said that. have you always looked this cute when you laughed? how come chuuya never noticed that?

“please,” he says. “you can call me chuuya.”

...

“you never chicken out of anything. come on, you can do this,” chuuya grits his teeth, remembering not to accidentally crush the bouquet in his hands. right after finishing his mission early, he headed to the nearest flower shop to buy some flowers for you. as much as he wanted to give you red roses, he thought it would be a bit too much and didn’t want to accidentally scare you. instead, he settled on some pink peonies that he dearly hoped you would like.

chuuya decided on going to the bar before your shift just to give himself some time to relax. except, when he sits down on the counter, the bartender, an old man who chuuya knows very well, eyes the bouquet in his hands and flashes chuuya a knowing smile.

“do you think they’ll say yes?” chuuya asks, very aware at how nervous he sounds.

“i think it’ll be very interesting,” the bartender says. chuuya groans at how ambiguous that sounds.

“can i have my regular? please?” he asks. the bartender raises an eyebrow at him. “it’s just for the nerves,” chuuya reasons.

he was right in thinking that the alcohol would help with his nerves. except, it works a bit too much.

...

you always give your reflection a once-over before leaving for your shift at the bartender. the bartender’s uniform isn’t exactly your nicest outfit but you try your best to spruce things up by putting on some lip tint and brushing your hair. you’re not even sure if chuuya will be coming in, he is a busy man, but you apply your lip tint carefully in the mirror and wish for luck.

when you finally leave the employee’s changing room to start your shift, your heart jumps up in your chest when you recognize the familiar hat. except, when you come closer, you find that chuuya is slumped over the counter with an empty glass and a bouquet of flowers at his side.

the sight of the flowers brings a lump in your throat but you push that aside momentarily as you tap on chuuya’s shoulder to check on him.

“chuuya-san?”

“hrrrmmm,” he groans but doesn’t move an inch. you tap him on the shoulder again and call out his name, much louder this time, until chuuya finally raises his head. 

his cheeks are flushed pink, no doubt from the alcohol, and his eyes clearly look as if he’s straining to focus as he squints at you. it’s unbelievably cute and you let out a chuckle. 

“it’s not like you to get wasted on a thursday evening,” you smile before your gaze lands on the bouquet of flowers again. “i... see you were planning to ask someone out.”

“huh? yeah,” chuuya drawls, nodding his head slowly. “s’pposed to ask this person out... was waiting for them.”

“and then you ended up drinking too much,” you sigh. “i mean, i keep telling you your alcohol tolerance isn’t that great.”

“wanted to be less nervous,” chuuya whines slightly as his head drops back again. you reach your hand out to hold him back from pitching forward and slamming his face onto the table.

“oh my god, let’s get you sobered up at least before you meet them,” you sigh. it was a thursday night and no one else was at the bar. it probably wouldn’t hurt to step out for a while, wouldn’t it?

you’re practically dragging chuuya behind you to the employee’s room and sitting him on the couch you have there. except, once he sits down he immediately flops on the couch and curls up on his side. you’ve rarely seen the mafia executive look as vulnerable as this with his hat barely even on his head, his red locks framing his sleeping face, and his curled hands under his cheek. chuuya looks just like a little kid and you smile to yourself as you brush a lock of hair out of his face.

you already knew he was a mafia executive when you first met him here, at the bar, and was understandably quite scared of him at first. ‘he’s just a paying customer, like everyone else,’ you reminded yourself before putting on a winning smile to serve him. 

little did you know, you were going to absolutely fall for him. chuuya was always kind and courteous, even tipping more than generously whenever he came in. but what struck you about him was that no matter what, even if he was having the worst of days, he would always ask how you are. as a bartender, you were used to being the one listening instead of being listened to. the fact that chuuya always asked about you and even remembered your ramblings made you smile.

part of you wondered if you had a chance with someone like chuuya. ‘but i guess not,’ you thought sadly, gently laying the bouquet of flowers on the side table. as soon as you did, chuuya shot up from the couch.

“ch-chuuya-san!” you yelped slightly in surprise. 

“flowers... where are they?” he slurred, blinking around at his surroundings.

“here,” you smiled, placing the bouquet on his lap. “that person’s lucky, you know? to receive flowers from you.” 

“yeah...” chuuya smiled. “y/n sure is.” and before you could fully process what he said, chuuya flopped back down on the couch.

“wait, what?” you squeaked. you turned to chuuya and shook him awake. “did you just say y/n?”

“yeah... you know them? works here, always smiley, looks hella cute,” chuuya chuckled before looking at you with the tiniest pout on his lips. “do you think they’d go out with me?” 

you’re astounded and let out a small laugh. “i... i think they would chuuya. just ask them, alright?” 

“alright,”  chuuya nods and yawns before curling up on the couch again. you, on the other hand, are beside yourself with giddiness and it’s taking you all of your self-control not to wake him up. instead, you leave a glass of water and some headache medicine that you keep in your bag and return to your shift.

...

chuuya wakes up a few hours later with one of the worst headaches he’s ever had and his mouth feeling like sandpaper. also, he has no idea where he is. 

he sits up, blinking at his surroundings as he struggles to remember what happened before he practically blacked out. ‘i was in the bar. i got a drink, and then...’  

chuuya’s gaze lands on you, curled up on a nearby chair with your jacket draped across your torso and suddenly he remembers what exactly he was doing at the bar in the first place. “shit, shit, shit,” chuuya curses and sits up. he actually got blackout drunk before even getting the chance to talk to you and now you had to take care of him. chuuya hated to admit that his alcohol tolerance was low and now it seems he’s suffering the consequences for it.

his luck takes a turn for the worst when the noise stirs you awake.

“chuuya-san? you’re awake,” you yawn sleepily.

“fuck, i... blacked out, didn’t i? y/n, i’m so sorry it must have been so troubling for you,” chuuya immediately apologizes.

“it’s alright--” 

“like, i came in before your shift and i thought drinking would settle my nerves a bit before asking you out and--” chuuya abruptly stops when he realizes what he accidentally blurted out loud. the look on your face says it all though.

“i... “ he starts and stops again. then, he realizes that the flowers he bought are still on the table. so, he picks it up and hands them to you. “i, i really like you, y/n. if you don’t hate me after all this, would you consider going out with me?” 

there’s a smile on your face when you take the flowers for him and chuuya takes it as a good sign. and then you say, “you know, you said a lot of things while you were drunk.” 

chuuya feels his face flush and lets out a groan. “oh god, like what?” 

“we can talk about it if you like,” you shrug. “i’m... i’m free on saturdays, after my five pm shift.” 

chuuya feels his heart leap in his chest and says “i’m free this saturday too,” a bit too enthusiastically, earning another laugh from you. he’s still feeling that euphoria when you stand up and plant a kiss on his cheek.

“also, you’re really cute when you’re drunk.” 

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @waitforitillwritemywayout @atsumusdomain​​ @laure-chan @goodfoodxoxoxo ​ @guardianangelswings @ah-kaashi @amberalisa​ @whootwhoot​ @liz-multifandom-hotel​​ @kac-chowsballs​​ @violentfarewll

[roguish-gallery]

Oswald Cobblepot + Finding His S/O is Pregnant HCs!

Worked on this whenever I felt stressed, anxious, or sad and needed to write something really soft and comforting. Putting this under the readmore because, holy shit, this thing is massive.

TW: Pregnancy, mentions of past child abuse and childbirth

He will literally start to cry. He has so many mixed emotions- having an s/o and a child of his own has always been a fantasy for him, something he never thought he’d get to have. He’s worried too though, and almost sick to his stomach at the idea of his s/o carrying his child. What if they inherit his looks? Does he like the idea of sharing his partner with another person? What will happen to his career if they decide to keep the baby?

Here’s the conflict- Oswald won’t admit it outright, but he has a deep compulsion to care for those he’s close to (despite him being a villain/mob boss/ whatever). It’s why he takes care of birds and why he runs a business that emphasizes customer service. Fuck it, part of the reason why he’s such a good crime lord is that he naturally likes to look out for other people. He needs to know that someone is out there relying on him and needs him.

He *also* doesn’t think he deserves nice, non-material things; he’s always worried that those he’s close to are only close to him out of pity, or are only affectionate with him because they have an ulterior motive (it’s why he’s prone to sabotage his own relationships). He’s learned not to expect people to offer him an ounce of respect, so he learned that he needs to win it over through good old-fashioned gentlemanly charm, buying it outright, or forcing it. Would he want to have a family? Of course. But he has convinced himself that he could never have one, because he has always been treated as a joke by Gotham’s upper class, criminal underworld, and his own father. That, and he’s too… odd… for anyone to want him, much less have a child with him.

Oswald considers himself incredibly lucky to have an s/o who loves him and has helped him to cope with his past traumas... but this? a child? What if something happens to his partner, and he's left to raise their child by himself?

Ultimately his papa instincts kick in, and he comes around to the idea of being a father. No matter how his child looks when they’re born, how could Oswald ever abandon his own child? How could he subject an innocent baby to the isolation and neglect he had to deal with when he was growing up? Had his mother taught him nothing about love? No, Oswald is his mother’s son, and he won’t inflict this trauma on the next generation.

Oswald is a nervous wreck during the entire pregnancy and is constantly fretting over everything. He needs the nursery to be perfect, he needs to make sure his partner and the baby are safe and happy, he needs to make sure his Lounge, employees, and pets don’t feel neglected. He needs… to convince himself that he’ll be a good father.

He is borderline insufferable with how much he coddles his s/o. They could be in their first trimester, and yet Oswald acts like they’re literally a sneeze away from going into labor. He has to make sure the water they drink isn’t too cold, or that the coat they’re wearing isn’t too tight. He genuinely doesn’t mean to be so overbearing, but his partner will definitely need to establish boundaries and know when to reign him back.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t try to suggest a shotgun marriage to his partner. Having a child out of wedlock might be a bit scandalous, but Oswald has enough problems taking care of his s/o and getting ready for the baby- his poor heart could not handle the stress of planning a wedding on top of everything else. If anything, he would just try to keep the pregnancy a secret or really, REALLY low-key to avoid the attention of rival villains and the general public.

He decides on a Beatrix Potter-themed nursery! His mother used to read him the Peter Rabbit books when he was very young, and he’d like to do that with his own child. He has a very soft spot in his heart for well-dressed forest animals who commit acts of mischief.

Oswald *also* has a massive sympathetic pregnancy. He gets sick regularly, and his employees at the Iceberg are often subject to his mood swings.

He’s reluctant to interact with the baby directly. He doesn’t like how firm his partner’s stomach is whenever he touches it, and his only concerns during the prenatal checkups are if the baby is healthy. Feeling them kick against his touch only reminds him of all the things that could go wrong.

His concern for his s/o comes first though. If they want to be comforted, he’ll be at their beck and call for as long and hold them for as long as they need. He’ll get up at three in the morning, and throw a robe on to buy gravy and toaster waffles to appease his partner’s cravings (which is its own story, given the fact that he’s never shopped at a 24/7 Wal-Mart before).

He’s an absolute mess when his partner goes into labor- he tries to keep himself collected for the sake of his partner (and to not look vulnerable to the medical staff) but he’s trembling throughout the entire ordeal.

His main priority is his partner throughout the entire ordeal, even after the baby is born. He knows that he’ll have time with his child later, but all he wants to do now is make sure his s/o is comfortable and safe. He’s also… scared that he’ll see his baby, and hate them the same way his father did when he saw Oswald for the first time.

He always comes around though, and after his s/o falls asleep, he’ll cautiously come up to check on the baby. They're so small… but they fit just fine in his arms- how could he have ever been apprehensive to meet such a perfect, gentle soul? It's overwhelming for him, and everything that he's been trying to bottle up over the past nine months finally spills over and he starts to weep with relief.

[tsuumu]

hq boys and their part time jobs.

yet another unseries headcanon post made by yours truly! unlike my last one which you can find here, i won’t be involving every single major hq character so that’s just a heads up!! i can’t always envision stuff fully with every single person...

kageyama tobio: this boy thought that applying to work part-time at a sports shop would be fitting ‘cause of his love for volleyball, completely unaware that this would involve way too much social interaction and tolerance???? like he thought he’d just have to look like someone who does sports and occasionally restock yoga mats but these loud ass kids are coming up to him asking for this that and the other for sports he’s never heard of. suddenly he regrets the entire thing. plus, he has no idea how to use the cash register and it’s his worse nightmare to ring up items without wanting to stomp a hole into it to get the customer’s change.

hinata shoyo: shoyo went straight for the pet shelter because he’s in love with playing with the little puppies. this boy will full on roll around with them, stuff them under his shirt so their heads poke out and just.. intergrate and become one of them... the doggies love him so much n always clamber to sit on his lap because hinata treats them with so much love and kindness!! customers looking for pets often joke about taking him home bc he’s just as excitable and friendly as the actual dogs. he’s also really good at convincing people on the fence to get a pet and explaining their individual personalities because he knows them so well :(

nishinoya yuu: he said: supermarket assistant so he could ride around on the carts, intimidates literally every customer with his ungodly enthusiasm but is determined to help EVERYONE, he’ll run around the store taking people where they need to go but only if he actually remembers where they’re situated. otherwise this boy is like “yeah they’re just... that way.” and bolts in the other direction. gets along with all his colleagues and tells them all about his tournaments with karasuno. he’s not the star employee but it wouldn’t be the same w out him.. often asks the manager if he can taste test the market’s pastry section to which he is rejected every single time.

tanaka ryuu: he’s convinced working in his local gym was him in his element, he wears that tag thing like a badge of honour and just walks around showing people he works there instead of actually doing his job??? he’s also overly enthusiastic and will sometimes cheer on the people working out as if he’s some kind of zealous personal trainer and everybody is like “literally how old is this guy??” he’s surprisingly awesome at reception duty because he’s always chatting to regulars about how they’re doing... the practical side like schedules and paperwork he leaves for someone else, everyone just puts up with him bc he’s a mood setter.

sugawara koushi: don’t get me started on this boy as a teacher’s assistant, like he helps little kids out with their work, tidies up the class during their break times and reads them stories?? he’s THAT senior boy who’s the biggest sweetheart and seeing him handle kids so well is like ... does he want some of his own ?? i’d like to offer my expertise he’s always got a smile on his face, gets along with all the staff much older than him, he’s like this perfect boy they all dote on and he gets super flustered saying he just really likes helping out the children and making them smile. often brings them little snacks too and they all call him big brother BYE.

tsukkishima kei: he does some low-key shit that’s kinda wholesome like working with the eldery or tutoring kids but prefers for literally nobody to know about it because anything he does outside of school is his business. he does it because it’s good pay, there’s not much else to it. if anybody found out he’d be super irritated tbh it’s just an invasion of privacy to him but eventually wouldn’t care because every kid is getting part-time jobs these days.

oikawa tooru: bye he’s THAT guy who got his job at a retail store because he’s pretty. like he has no real interest in clothes or anything but he takes the job as a place to validate himself when girls come up to him purposefully to flirt. he’s winking and laughing with them and also NOT actually doing his job but he brings in customers so at least he’s somewhat useful. doesn’t know how to fold clothes or hang stuff on hangers properly for shit and everyone lowkey wants to kick his ass but he’s actually very friendly and outgoing even if he has no clue what he’s doing. keeps asking if bra sizes come in small, medium and large and everyone just tells him to shut up.

iwaizumi hajime: when picking a job he was like “well what am i good at?” and went from there. he ended up as the local pool’s weekend lifeguard because he had the qualifications and time. again, everyone his age just tries to hit on him and he’s annoyed because it distracts him from the actual purpose of his job. he takes it seriously and impresses his colleagues with his swimming talent and knowledge on first aid. iwaizumi lowkey scares the little kids and they’re kind of afraid to ask him for help so he’s been working on looking a little more friendly.

kuroo tetsurou: kuroo as a tennis instructor assistant or just something sporty other than volleyball because he’s a multi-talented king?? like he’s not a professional by any means but he helps out the youth club and gets along with kids a few years younger than him. fills in for refs at tournaments, makes sure equipment is safe to use and is SUPER good at cheering club goers up when they lose or fail or can’t seem to do it correctly. he often refers to his experiences as nekoma’s captain to relate to them and they really admire his resilience and ask him to tell them more stories!!

kenma kozume: had to be dragged out to do a part-time job. was absolutely against the thought of it until hinata mentioned a friend of his who’d moved to the prefecture near kenma got a job at this new game shop. he was like fine and applied. he just kinda sat and people asked him questions about the games but he refused to do any further socialisation or actual grunt work like shelving, he quit pretty soon after, he just wanted the money to buy a game he ended up purchasing on his way out lmaoo

bokuto koutarou: he was dead set on having a volleyball related job, fukurodani have a club for junior players from all over the city to come and practice together. he was like?!? “and nobody told me??” he’s perfect for it as the captain and ends up as a secondary coach. he shows off A LOT and like kuroo, encourages the kids when they’re down. except kuroo is a more sit down, hand on shoulder, casual talk kind of guy. bokuto gets ridiculously sentimental and tells them dramatically about his lowest memories as captain when fukurodani lost and the kids are genuinely as emotional because of he way he tells it??? idk but they love him and he’s a ball of passion that keeps them going.

akaashi keiji: we are talking pretty waiter at a local gormet restaurant that gets tipped SO MUCH for his true professionalism. knows how to handle every situation with ease and is super calm, doesn’t care at all if someone from his school is there. he’s really just chasing that bag and he’s doing it well. bokuto often picks him up after his shifts so they can do stuff together but akaashi requests it be something calming since he’s tired after work... bokuto is like,, “so no to rock-climbing? alright i’ll reschedule..” the other waiters lowkey HATE the fact he gets tipped so well and they try and figure out his secrets. he has none. he’s just good at his job. i could see kiyoko working a similar job or somewhere lowkey like a flourist or bakery. she’s equally as professional and admired.

ushijima wakatoshi: ANY JOB. give this man any job and he’ll be able to carry it out like he’s been doing it since he popped out the womb. often mistaken for a grown adult so he gets jobs pretty easily? very very professional and aims to do everything perfectly. i think he’d also prefer a vb related job just like bokuto but something that could really get him somewhere big, smth to do with olympics like a paid internship for them .. can you even intern for the olympics lmao?? maybe something for the japanese team. it’s a lot of work to balance school & intern life but he’s very comitted and knows it’ll benefit him in the future. (kageyama was fuming when he found out he could have done that instead of his current gig).

tendou satori: has a job he’s very under-qualified for but somehow pulls off. he’s chilling at the hospital or law firm three times a week after classes or somewhere ridiculous but he’s doing just fine!! doesn’t actually do professional work n helps with small things but it impresses the hell out of everybody he tells, has no interest in persuing those careers but it’s fun for him, he gets paid VERY well for a boy his age and his personality creates a nice, talkative atmosphere in these seemingly tense environments.

miya atsumu / osamu: they both work at a café for novelty because they’re these handsome, athletic twins and it’s a thing that brings people in. they do a lot of fan service stuff and osamu is EXCELLENT like he was made for this job but atsumu is awful at keeping his cool. osamu will be chatting up customers, trying to persuade them to order more and atsumu is having a heated tustle with the coffee machine that’s broken down for the third time that day and it really ruins the magic osamu is trying to create. atsumu has probably sworn loudly. has probably almost been fired. he’s bad at playing along and flirting because he literally just wants them to leave so he can sit down lmao. osamu uses the pastries in the café as inspiration for his own at-home baking fiascos because it’s a stress-reliving hobby.

terushima yuji: he’s that boy in shoe shops that tries to sell you sneakers and he knows literally everything about them even when you really didn’t ask... looking to hit on girls that come in because shoe knowledge is obviously very sexy! alternatively you might catch him in a tattoo shop or sumn real appearance based and he definitely remembers all the regulars and greets them like they’re close friends, we’re talking inside jokes. always seems to know what tattoo people are looking to get purely based on their appearance and initial impression...

the list of unemployed:

yachi: too scared to do ANY job that requires interaction, she’s plagued by it.

hoshiumi: fired for picking too many fights with customers.

kyotani: EVEN WORSE THAN HOSHIUMI though he was strangely very efficient at paperwork.

suna: quit on the first day because it wasn’t what he expected and he doesn’t care about money that much.

lev: his family are like.... rich?? n nobody really expected it but he’s like yeah i really do not need one of those lmao.

yamaguchi: broke things, spilt things, smashed things. he really was trying his best..

aone: intimidated customers too much so they let him go (he was just STANDING THERE.. he deserved better).

sakusa: local venues are filthy, ushijima got the internship spot, no other job interests him enough to persue.

[softjeon]

Home | Pt. 1

• Pairing: Namjoon x Hybrid!Yoongi (Platonic!) • Genre: Fluff  | Hybrid!AU • Words: 3,7k • Disclaimer: a tiny bit of anxiety and insomnia

written with @cassiavioletblue

↳ Namjoon watched Yoongi strutting after him over his shoulder and sighed. He couldn't believe he's really done it; paying too much money for a hybrid that would bite him if given the chance when all he had wanted was a cute, little - very much harmless - kitten to begin with.

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Late-afternoon sun was flooding in through the sliding doors, bleaching out the color from the room. Namjoon took a look in the wall mirror and almost turned right away. He looked awful. Dark shadows under his eyes the visible proof of his sleepless nights. “You still look good, don’t worry.” A low voice behind him said, “You always look handsome, Joonie.” Namjoon nodded at that, the wink on Hoseok’s face making him blush, before following him quickly.

“Have you ever thought about getting a pet?”

Namjoon looked up to see Jimin hovering next to him, a teapot in his hand only waiting for him to give over his cup. “N-no, why should I?”

“Then you’re not as alone. It helps you know...you could ask Taehyung if he knows some good places or if there has been some offspring.” Jimin reassured him with a nudge to his side, before placing the pot on the coffee table and cuddled up next to his boyfriend, “You always carry the burden of so many people around you.” Hoseok laid his arm around him and Namjoon couldn’t help but watch their interactions with a painful ache pulling at his heartstrings.

It had been a week, maybe more, Namjoon wasn’t so sure anymore and what Jimin had said still lingered in the back of his mind.

Maybe it was good.

Maybe it was a bit too much responsibility.

That morning, he woke up with a scream again. Sweat dripping down his forehead, his heart beating so fast that it was threatening to jump right out of his chest and his hands shivering. He was panting, his eyes flickering around in panic. He couldn’t take one more sleepless night.

Namjoon hesitated when he stood in front of the pet store, standing in the middle of the sidewalk so that people had to maneuver around him. Biting his lip in a nervous manner, he reached for the door, jerking with the sound of the bell that probably already notified someone. He wished it hadn’t.

Not, yet at least.

It wasn’t as loud as he had expected, a few puppies barking at his arrival looking up at him and reminding him awfully a lot of Jimin. Namjoon loved his friends, he always did and still he felt alone a lot of times. He’d figured it was just the way his brain was wired and maybe owning a cat would help him to get out his headspace some more. Namjoon had read a lot about it the past sleepless nights, ordering toys, gadgets anything one would need to be the perfect cat owner. He never half assed something.

Reaching down for one of the puppies, he scratched the small dog behind his ear with a smile. “Maybe it’s not that bad of an idea,” He was mumbling those reassuring words to himself for days now. A few times when he had unpacked the first things he bought and then again when he started to read all about how to take care of a cat.

Namjoon turned around, feeling a bit overwhelmed with the amount of animals in this shop. Maybe he should have called Taehyung to ask him about this, but he had felt a bit ashamed. He sighed, laughing at himself for even thinking about being ashamed just because he wasn’t sure where to buy a cat. It shouldn’t be that hard, right?

Namjoon rolled his shoulders back, shaking his head to get out of his head. He was starting to overthink this again. With a determined step, he walked to the aisle where he was supposing the cats were, when he stopped.

His gaze first fell onto the fluffy white ears, wandering down over the white hair, the big black eyes that were staring straight back at him. Namjoon cocked his head to the side, his heart picking up its pace. He didn’t know the store was also selling hybrids (probably because he had been looking at pictures of kittens all night) as he walked closer.

There was a softness about him, it’s white fluffy tail only adding to it. Namjoon wasn’t sure what pulled him in, maybe it was the eyes, or the cute button nose that he would have loved to boop. He knew nothing about hybrids though, only that Taehyung owned some on his farm right outside of Seoul and some of his other friends did. But Namjoon had figured a cat was already a lot of work. Enough for him at least. Still he couldn’t help but reach out his hand to him slowly, smiling lightly at the beautiful man that sat in the corner.

Yoongi’s had his eyes closed trying to drain out his surroundings. Because if he didn't he would want to pace, run along the cage, scream, shake the stupid metal bars caging him in. He was torn between pure rage and utter desperation - but he knew as soon as he would show any of it there would be that man with the electric stick again, shocking him into obedience. So, he lied there, motionless, storm raging inside while people came and go.

The little bell signaled that someone had come in again. It was a small sound, more for the pets than the humans so that they could show themselves form their best side and present exactly what the human was looking for: a cute, easy, well trained pet. Yoongi just growled low in his throat.

He couldn’t hear steps at first though which made him nervous because normally customers quickly went past him. So, he blinked open one eye. And then the other one. There was a man standing in the shop, still close to the door as if he wasn’t really sure where to go and what to do. His blonde hair looked soft and Yoongi felt the sudden urge to bury his nose in it because it looked so much like fur and he had been so lonely for so long… he stomped out the emotion before it could grow too big, growling for good measure. He would never, ever ever let one of those filthy humans touch him. They might have overpowered him and locked him here and they might think that giving him a collar and clipping his claws and filing his teeth would make him a pet, but he would fight till his very last dying breath to stay who he truly was! He startled when the human suddenly made eye contact with him. It was too late to pretend to be asleep now so he stared back, as fiery and hateful as he could. Instead of walking past him quickly or being scared off the human had the audacity to smile at him and then he reached out his hand! Over the bar!

Yoongi half hoped that the man would touch them, just to feel the electricity running through them but he probably wouldn’t. There were signs all over not to touch them. Why the man had thought that it would be a good idea to just reach over them instead was beyond him. Slowly Yoongi uncurled his tail and stretched. His ears, formerly lying flat against his skull stood up, white and fluffy, moving in the direction of the human. He wanted to see if that man was stupid enough to let him come close.

Namjoon couldn’t believe how beautiful the hybrid was, it’s fluffy fur only inviting him further. He had completely ignored the signs, like he usually did when his eyes were set on something and maybe Namjoon was a little clumsy and had a bit of a bad habit to do exactly what he wasn’t supposed to without knowing. So, he reached out for the fox, wanting to let it sniff his hand first before he would maybe pat his fur. Namjoon just wanted to feel how soft it really was.  

The human kept his hand steadily outreached for him and Yoongi couldn’t help it, he got curious. So, he inched a little closer than he would have needed to, sniffing in Namjoon’s general direction. He tasted different than the humans in the shop, there was no hint of disinfectant on him that bit Yoongi’s nose or the irony smell of metal bars and the washing detergent they used for their working clothes. This one strangely smelled like paper, the old kind, the one you found in old books. And there was coffee, lots of it, with a hint of something sweet and spicy, like vanilla and cardamom. Yoongi cocked his head, intrigued - but he came quickly back to his senses when the other moved. He had turned his hand as if he was about to pet him and Yoongi saw red.

He growled while sinking his claws right into the man's hand. Unfortunately, they had shortened his claws when they had first caught him so the wound wasn’t very deep, but he could still feel the satisfying rip of skin and the wetness of blood on his fingertips. Yoongi jumped back, out of reach, growling as dangerously as he could. He would have loved to bite him, to sink his teeth into that man who had the audacity to treat him like a puppy, but he had made that mistake just once to put his head that close to humans hands and it had almost cost him an ear. So, this would have to be enough as revenge.

Namjoon flinched back, hissing at the sudden pain in his hand. “Fuck,” He cursed to himself quietly, eyeing the wound first before he looked at Yoongi again in a mix of confusion and sadness. “I…I am sorry.” Namjoon mumbled towards the fox that was still flashing his teeth, “I really didn’t want to scare you.” He smiled sadly, whining when he saw the scratches on his hand that would definitely leave a scar one day. A hand on his shoulder made Namjoon jerk violently again. He hadn’t noticed one of the workers coming closer.

“Oh my, I’m so.. so very sorry! Please excuse us, he is new, just came in a few days ago so he is not ready for adoption. We just put him here because there was no other place to securely put him until he will be declawed and trained and ready to be sold.” The employee looked really uncomfortable, running away just to come back a few seconds later with disinfectant and a band aid. He sprayed the disinfectant without warning and then dabbed the blood away with a cotton pad before placing the band aid over Namjoon’s entire hand. It looked as if the other had never used one before in his life, “Again I am really, very sorry and... unfortunately, I have to remind you of the signs to not go too close to the cages without an employee so we can’t really be held responsible for this unlucky outcome. But I can reassure you that he is a special case, all of our other hybrids are absolutely docile and love to be petted. I can give you a tour around if you want. We have this really cute bunny hybrid, he’s just a few years old, a blue tortoiseshell or if you want someone really calm and timid then we have another bunny in chocolate and pearl with chocolate tipped guard hairs. He’s really pretty so of course he’s a little pricier...” When Namjoon didn’t really react to any of this the employee quickly continued, “...but I’m sure we find something fitting we have hybrids in all price ranges and variations. And if something is not in stock right now we can order from other branches. So, tell me, what is it you’re looking for? Something fluffy, something low effort, a younger hybrid, and old one - they are so good for seniors -“

“Oh no, that won’t be necessary,” He answered quickly, already annoyed at how much the employer was talking. Namjoon rolled his eyes as the young boy pointed somewhere else in the shop while he only halfheartedly listened. “It’s okay. It was my own fault for reaching out anyways. I hope I didn’t scare him too much,” Namjoon’s eyes flickered over to the white fox and then to the sign, reading it carefully. So, he was an arctic fox. A rare one at that and one shouldn’t pet him. Great. At least he knew it better now, Namjoon thought to himself. And still his eyes found the one of the arctic fox again, smiling at him apologetically and ignoring whatever the young boy was talking about. Namjoon was sure that the hybrids were cute, but no other bunny hybrid could be as cute as Jungkook anyways. Now that he was thinking about it, Namjoon made a mental note to visit Taehyung and Jungkook again sometime. Just to see that precious boy jump around in excitement. “I wanted…to look at the kittens?”

“Kittens?” The salesman paused in surprise. “Oh, of course. This way please.” In his corner Yoongi chuckled darkly. No wonder the man had no idea how to handle him when he had been looking for kittens. He absolutely wasn’t one. Instead of loosening his tense stance and relaxing back into his position on the floor he didn’t move at all while the man was in front of his cage, staring at him accusingly. He didn’t react to the other’s apologetic smiles and instead just bared his fangs further when they moved past him.

Such an idiot.

There was an uncomfortable pull on his insides when he was alone again, the words of the employee running through his mind. He was scared of being declawed. It would hurt a lot and afterwards he would be defenseless. Except for his teeth but if he didn’t behave then they would file them down. He shuddered and hated himself for it. He needed to stay strong. They wouldn't break him.

He wouldn’t let them!

…

Namjoon had two kittens on his arms, one nuzzling his face against his chest right away, while the other was sniffing him carefully. Both were absolutely beautiful and Namjoon had to smile, feeling absolutely content right now. He wasn’t paying much attention on the employees talk though and how he was getting out another one of them. A black on this time with bright blue eyes staring right back at him. And still, Namjoon couldn’t help but turn around again when he could hear the noise coming from one of the cages.

“Where did you get him from?” Namjoon asked, “The arctic fox, I mean. Does he have a name?”

“We got him from a... a breeder in Canada.” The employer avoided his gaze and apparently thought that it would make it less obvious that he was lying. “And as he isn’t adoption ready we didn’t name him yet. All names are absolutely temporary though until the owner decided on the name they will keep.” Smile back in place he nodded in the direction of the kittens. “So, did you see something that you like? If not we can go into the office and we can scroll through the kitten profiles of our branches. They could be here next week if you decide on this option and they could also be delivered directly to your home. What do you say?”

Namjoon nodded in thought. Of course, his mind started to fight a war just exact in this moment. The little kitten in his hold meowing at him, pleading him with his big eyes to take him home and Namjoon wanted to. So badly. But then he saw the look in the employees eyes, the obvious lies that he told him about the fox. There was something not right about this, he could feel it in his bones. The words of ‘declawing’ and ‘not ready to be sold’ coming back into his mind and how the employee told him about it getting trained. Why should a hybrid from an official breeder get trained? Shouldn’t that have happened before? He bit his lip, his heart picking up its pace.

“I want him.” Namjoon nodded towards the cage of the fox and put the kittens back down. “Y-yes. I’d like to buy him.”

The employee nodded, mistaking Namjoon’s nod in the direction of the fox cage to a sign that he had chosen one of the kittens. “Yes, he is a real beauty, he’ll be a gorgeous cat one day. You made a good choice here...”

Namjoon shook his head determinately, “No. The hybrid. I want the fox.” He looked at him, nodding to show that he was serious.

The employee's eyes widened, and he asked again as if he wanted to make sure that he had heard right. “The... the arctic fox hybrid? The one who bit you? But... I’m really sorry sir but he isn’t trained, and I told you that he isn’t declawed yet, he could be a danger to you and your home and I’m not sure… Sir, a kitten is way easier to handle. A hybrid needs way more attention that that especially in the beginning and... are you sure you don’t want to think this over? There are security measurements that you would have to take with a hybrid like him and you would have to buy a leash and a muzzle and... he’s way more expensive than a traditional pet. You need more space and… you can’t just give him back if you don’t like him. You would have to take him for two weeks at least. And if you return him after that phase you won’t get your full money back, only half of it. It’s… is this really what you want, sir?” He looked at him as if he was expecting a ‘no’.

“He didn’t bite me, he only scratched me. It’s fine…I-I can train him and my friend…he’s a trainer…of some sorts,” Namjoon added the last words a little quieter. Taehyung had a farm filled with animals; he knew naturally how to train animals, but he wasn’t a professional by far . “No. I want him. I will bring him to the vet to declaw him then.” Namjoon cringed at the words, not liking how they sounded but he was sure if he told him that he would never declaw a hybrid that they wouldn’t sell it to him. “I’ll buy anything you think is necessary for me to have. You can go ahead and chose it for me. I trust your knowledge.” Namjoon put on a smile, one that always brought him the best deals with his customers. He put a hand on the young man’s shoulder and nodded reassuringly,  “I have enough space…and enough money.”

The last was what had the man finally agreeing. He hesitated for a second and then shuffled off to the office to get the needed documents, copy the rules for owners of predatory hybrids and also get everything Namjoon would need to take Yoongi home. After he had let Namjoon sign everything  and write him a little note that he was taking Yoongi home despite him not being 100% ready and that he wouldn’t sure them for any consequences the man stashed them away and smiled. “Great. Now he is yours. I’ll get the leash on him and then you can take him home!” 

Before Namjoon could ask him how exactly he wanted to put a leash on a fox that scratched if you even came within reach the man took out a stick that looked absolutely harmless - until it cackled to life, the electricity running through it making it hum. As soon as he heard the sound Yoongi jumped on his feet, hissing and growling as if he could scare the employee away while pressing himself onto a corner. The employee simply pressed a button to elongate the stick a little and then pressed it against Yoongi’s flank. The hybrid collapsed immediately a desperate, painful sound escaping him. His eyes were open when the employee opened the door but his whole body was motionless except for little tremors that ran through him. The employee didn’t talk to Yoongi when he approached him, didn’t explain what he was doing, instead he solely talked to Namjoon while treating the hybrid like some object. He took out a little syringe from his pocket and injected it into the foxes’ body. Yoongi’s muscles went lax and his eyes dropped.

“He will be a little drowsy but it will only be like this for an hour or two so you can get him home safely. I would advise you to use a chain to fixate him somewhere in the house until he got used to his new home.” While he was talking he changed Yoongi’s collar to a sturdier one, clipping the leash in place. “Don’t take the muzzle off without fixating his head or else he might bite.” He put a black mask made of thick leather over Yoongi’s face and fixated it at the back of the hybrid’s head. “You can get a sample pack of hybrid food with your purchase if you want or we also have leaflets on barf diets.”

Namjoon gasped, pushing a hand onto his mouth when he saw how they treated the poor hybrid. He gulped heavily, trying not think about it too much right now but just wanting to take him home with him, promise him that he wouldn’t ever hurt him like that. “No, that’s all I need.” Grabbing the bag filled with the stuff the other had gotten for him, apparently all kinds of accessory he needed to take care of a hybrid, Namjoon reached for the leash. He didn’t thank him, but instead walked ahead with furrowed brows and shaking hands. Mumbling to himself, Namjoon kept peeking over his shoulder where Yoongi was stumbling after him. He couldn’t believe, he just did that. He paid a good amount of money for a hybrid that was probably ready to bite him any second, when all he wanted was a soft kitten. The ride home was calm, the fox dozing off a few times, while Namjoon was battling his worries and doubts and if this was the best or the worst decision he’d ever made.

A/N: Another sweet little story ;) Of course the PirateAU will keep on coming weekly, just as this story - only that this one is divided into shorter chapters for the sweet fluff inbetween when you need a break from all our angst lmao anyways... I hope you enjoyed it!!! Don’t forget to leave us a comment or message on how you liked it! ❤

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[thatishogwash]

Not a Surprise

KuroDai Mid-Birthday Week 2019 December 9th, Day 1: Magical Realism/Tattoo Artist & Florist AU 

AO3

Kuroo pauses outside the the tattoo parlors doors, looking surprised as he takes notices of the shop next door.  It had been under construction for months now, a huge disturbance to everyone who worked at the tattoo shop, but it looks complete now.  There are two huge barrels full of overflowing flowers, soft hued pastels that contrast nicely with the light blue the new owner of the shop had painted the building.  There’s several hanging planters, greenery flowing almost artistically down.  The only thing that seems off is the hand painted open sign but even that is charming in a ‘my third grader did this’ kind of way.

The sight makes the corner of Kuroo’s lips tip upwards despite the constant noise and ruckus the constructors workers had caused for months on end.  Kuroo thought he was going to have to start using earbuds just so his concentration wouldn’t be shot while tattooing.

Kuroo takes a step into the parlor and is met with a second surprise that morning.  There is a number of vases filled to the brim with brightly colored flowers.  They are all different, unique in their own way and despite the scribbled Open sign there is also a clear artistry to who ever had made them.  They should clash with each other or not look right in the modern and minimalist design the parlor sports but instead they fit right in, bringing just the right amount of color and warmth into the front room.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?”  Misaki says, big smile planted on her face as she touches the purple and white bundle that sits on her desk.  “The new owner from next door brought them over this morning as an apology for all the noise.”  Misaki is probably the most tattooed out of all of them.  She has full sleeves, a huge chest piece, her entire back is covered, and she has a circle of tattoos going around her neck.  The only place she hasn’t tattooed is her left thigh, where her soulmate mark stretches from her outer midthigh up to her waist.  Kuroo tilts his head as he realizes that the bouquet on her desk matches her mark perfectly.

“He was very apologetic.”  Akaashi speaks up, tone soft as his eyes catch on his own bouquet before quickly looking away.  Kuroo can feel his smirk widening as he catches sight of the pink spreading on Akaashi’s cheeks.  The other tattoo artist had been the most annoyed by the disturbance nextdoor, though he would never admit to it, far too polite to do so.  About a month into construction there had been a rather loud bang then cursing.  The tattoo parlor shared a wall with the new florist next door, and Akaashi had the unfortunate luck to have his desk right against that wall.  Akaashi had been so frustrated he had snapped his pencil in half, stood up abruptly, gathered his items, and excused himself.  He had found solace in the small coffee shop down the road.

Actually Kuroo and the others thought he found much more than a good place to work given that he was now always wearing long sleeved shirts to hide his previously unbloomed soulmark.  Kuroo, Misaki, and Matsukawa had all gone to the coffee shop to try and figure out who exactly Akaashi had met there.  They had figured out it had to be an employee, given how Akaashi had made it a daily ritual to go down there for lunch, but they couldn’t figure out which employee.

Kuroo had his money on Bokuto though Misaki and Matsukawa called him out for personal bias.  Kita, who claimed he was uninvolved in their spying, said it couldn’t be Bokuto considering Akaashi had already known the outgoing barista and while they were friends, had never shown romantic interest in each other.  Kuroo still hoped it was Bokuto.

Misaki thought it was the new barista, Yachi.  She was tiny and adorable, but mostly it was because while she seemed a nervous mess with everyone else she relaxed around Akaashi.  Kuroo could even admit they would make an adorable couple.

Matsukawa thought it was Iwaizumi.  While he wasn’t new he had mostly worked the night shifts and had recently switched to the day shifts.  Kuroo was insulted no one called bias on Matsukawa considering he had known the burly baker since high school.

“He was very handsome too.”  Misaki said, trying to hide her grin and failing miserably at it.  Kuroo drops his bag on his own desk, taking note of the fiery reds and oranges that make up his own set of flowers.  He wants to bend down and take a deep breath but will have to wait until no one is around to witness and then make fun of him for it.

“Are you meddling in my affairs again?”  Kuroo asks without venom, moving the flowers to the other side of his desk and taking a seat.  The problem with being now one of the only single people in a business full of those who had already found their soulmates meant people were constantly trying to help him.

Kuroo did not need nor want help finding his soulmate.  He was of the mindset that if he never met them then that would be fine too.  He had made an entire career out of reasons why finding “the one” didn’t always turn out in a happily ever after.

Like most artists, Kuroo had a speciality.  He did other work every once and a while but mostly he was kept quite busy with doing coverups.  Cover Ups involving soulmate marks specifically speaking.  There were a lot of reasons to get a mark covered up.  Sometimes people did not want their life dictated by a magical phenomenon that was practically unexplainable even in their modern age.  If a soulmate died then their mark died with them, leaving the mark looking faded, dull, and tarnished.  Rejection also came into play, twisting the mark into something akin to a rotted looking scar.

Kuroo’s own mark started practically at his left knee, up the length of his outer thigh, spreading out over his side and ribs, curving around his chest and up his shoulder, peeking out onto his neck and almost covering his entire left bicep.  The blooms were tightly closed and while he never shied away from telling others about his disinterest in soulmarks he left that area of his body free of tattoos.  He told himself it was because he was picky about what he put on his body but considering the amount of times he had let others tattoo on him for practice when he was younger he knew he was full of it.

“You should go over and introduce yourself, it’s the neighborly thing to do.”  Misaki said hopefully.

“I’ll pass.”  Kuroo pulls out his sketchbook and tablet.  He has a lot of work to catch up on now that things are back to being quiet.  Misaki pouts but she lets it go, which Kuroo is thankful for.

Kuroo uses the flowers on his desk as a warmup for his sketches.  It’s only logical, a lot of his art contains flowers so why not use the ones right in front of him.

-----------------

A month later Kuroo found himself stepping into the flower shop for the first time.  It was bustling as always, even more overflowing with flowers and plants crowding every inch of available space.  Kuroo found himself having to duck and shift constantly to avoid knocking anything over.  He kind of enjoyed the chaos even though he couldn’t imagine working in such a place day after day.  Nothing seemed organized, not by any standard he could tell and the aisles were set up haphazardly as if the plants came first and the people were only a minor thought.

There’s only one employee that Kuroo can see, a guy with brown buzzed hair who is shorter than Kuroo but even from a distance Kuroo can see he’s built well enough.  The warm smile and pastel pink shirt he wears underneath the gray apron give him a friendly appearance as he chats amiably with the people he is ringing up.  He doesn’t look anxious and pressured despite the queue.

“Hello!  Sorry for the wait, how can I help you?”  Kuroo turns towards the loud voice, as do several people in the store.  There is another employee, only noticeable because of the gray apron with the store logo on it, this one is quite short with ridiculously spiky hair and some of the biggest eyes Kuroo has ever seen.  The employee isn’t talking to Kuroo but a confused looking young teenager so Kuroo continues about his business, making his way steadily and slowly towards the back of the shop.

“Moniwa,” Kuroo startles at the low baritone, turning to see someone leaning out a door with an Employees Only sign on it.  He’s also wearing a gray apron, though he would tower over both of the other employees.  A short man with curly black hair leans closer, nervously fidgeting with his bag.  “Would you like to see the orchids?”

“Oh!  Hello Ushijima!  Shouldn’t you help with the crowd?”  The man, Moniwa Kuroo can only guess, asks.  The taller man with some of the widest shoulders Kuroo has ever seen and clear green eyes looks around the shop before his eyes land back on Moniwa.  Kuroo pretends to look at some small blue flowers as he eavesdrops.

“Hoshiumi and Nakashima have it under control.”  Ushijima says in a voice devoid of emotion, as far as Kuroo can tell anyways.  “Sawamura told me to let them handle it and he should be back soon.”  Kuroo could understand not wanting the giant to interact and scare away customers.  But just when he was thinking the large man was akin to a robot his eyes softened and his voice, if possible, lowered.  “Do you not want to see the orchids?”

“No no, please I would love to.”  Moniwa said, flushing adorably.  Kuroo ducked his head to hide his grin, not that he needed to since the two were clearly in their own world.

Kuroo wandered around the store, enjoying his time to people watch.  The two workers flitted from customer to customer, bright and welcoming in their own ways.  Neither seemed to lose any patience no matter how long a customer hummed with indecision, carefully making suggestions until a mutual understanding was met and everyone walked away happy.

Kuroo was so busy watching these interactions that he ran right into someone.  Kuroo would never be called a small man, though he was more on the lanky side, but he stumbled back a couple steps before regaining his footing while the other person barely swayed.

“I’m sorry.”  A deep voice apologized from behind the heavy bag of dirt they were carrying over a broad shoulder.  He put it down, nudging the bag beneath an overflowing table.  “I should have been paying more attention to where I was going, are you okay?”  Big brown eyes stared at him from beneath the bill of a baseball cap.

“It’s okay, my fault.”  Kuroo said easily.  The man in front of him wasn’t wearing the same apron as the other workers but he had a sweatshirt the same soft gray with the company's logo on the front.

“Have you been helped yet?”  The man asked, pushing the sleeves of the sweatshirt up to reveal nicely toned and tanned forearms.  Kuroo told himself his spike of interest in that newly revealed stretch of skin was purely professional, he could make some beautiful art with that man.

On that man.  Kuroo could make beautiful art on that man.

“It’s my mothers birthday, I thought she might enjoy some flowers.”  Kuroo forced himself to meet those soft brown eyes and not stare at anything else.  Due to the cramped and crowded shop they had to stand quite close and from that distance it was obvious the handful of centimeters Kuroo held over the other man, who had to crane his neck up to look Kuroo in the eye.  It was adorable and Kuroo knew he was in trouble.

“Any specific colors?”  The man asked.

“Yellow?”  Kuroo scratched at his neck as glanced around the shop, noticed that both of the employees were staring at them before hurriedly going back to their jobs when they were caught.  “Are their cat friendly flowers?  I know a lot are poisonous and my mom has three.”

“That will help narrow it down.”  The shorter man hummed before he started to make his way through the store, grabbing flowers at seemingly random.  Kuroo watched him gather a couple different yellow ones but he pulled in some light blues and purples too.

“I’m Kurro.”  Kuroo introduced himself as he followed behind the man, who shot a grin over his shoulder, revealing a single dimple in his cheek that made Kuroo walk directly into a table.

“So you’re the other tattoo artist I missed.”  He was looked up and down before he turned back around to continue gathering flowers.  “Your friend, Misaki, she described you to a tee.”  Kuroo cringed at that and patted down his hair.  Misaki never had anything nice to say about his hair.

“So you must be the owner?”  Kuroo thought of the name of the new flower shop.  “Sa’mura was it?”  He recieved a glare for that and felt something twist pleasantly in his stomach.  “You were causing quite a ruckus, disturbed the peace for months.”

“Ruckus?”  Sawamura snorted.  “What are you, 70?”  Kuroo sputtered at that.

“It’s a perfectly good word!”  Kuroo defended, wondering when the teasing had been turned back on him and why exactly he liked that so much.

“Okay Grandpa.”  The dimple was back.  Kuroo did not walk into a table but he did get nailed in the head with a hanging pot.  “Watch it.”

“I’m sorry I’m not from the lollypop guild and able to navigate this place like you.”  Kuroo rubbed his temple, wondering if it would bruise.

“I’m above average height.”  Sawamura angrily snatched up another yellow flower.

“For a 12 year old girl, sure.”  Kuroo teased.

“You know what, I think the backroom needs a little work.”  Sawamura stepped behind the counter, the shorter employee with the buzz cut stepped back with his hands held up in surrender.  “Shouldn’t be too long, maybe a month or twelve.  Construction won’t disturb your work too much, will it?”  He tore off a long piece of brown paper.

“Speaking of that, you kind of owe me.”  Kuroo couldn’t see Sawamura’s eyebrows due to the baseball cap but he was sure they were raised.  “A lot of my work involves flowers, you should let me come in and sketch to make up for all the ruckus.”  Kuroo leaned against the counter and gave his best smirk, the one that made Akaashi’s lip curl up in disgust.

“Oh should I?  Really?  Because I’ve been losing sleep over the fact that starting my own business might have inconvenienced you for a little bit of time.”  Sawamura put the now wrapped flowers on the counter before storming off.  Kuroo made a pleased noise as he took them, they were artfully arranged and the paper wrapping with the twine gave it a finished look.

“How much do I owe you?”  Kuroo asked, glancing at the two bug eyed employees and then to the retreating back of their boss.

“It’s on the house!”  Sawamura yelled, shoulders relaxed despite his tone.

“So when should I stop by for those sketches?”  Kuroo couldn’t help but push his luck.

“Tomorrow at seven!”  Sawamura stomped into the back room and Kuroo tapped the counter happily before making his way out of the store.

Kuroo’s mother loved the flowers and he was only partly surprised when she yanked on the neckline of his shirt, demanding answers about his partly bloomed soulmate mark.

[ideclaremarvel]

Open Mic

Steve Harrington x Reader

Introduction: Hello!!!! Is ya girl i haven't made a story in so long and i am just in love with Steve and billy from stranger things because who wouldn't ? and just everyone so i might make new stories of those characters. Olala but i'm not taking in any request! ): im sorry just have a busy life and I want to focus on one character at a time. Bare with me i'm rough it's been so long!!

Not sure how long the series will be put i want it to be long and cool haha. Everyone is alive bc i cant wait til season 4 !!! idk how i feel about it but here ya go this probably sucks sorry

warnings: drinking and drugs nothing too bad 

Chapter 1: 

Summary:  After the events at Starcourt Mall, destroying the flayer monster and everyone still managed to come out alive, everyone who was everyone decided to go their own ways. The Byers family moved away along with El & Hopper. As a gift Hop fixed up his cabin for you to stay since it was somewhat destroyed by the Flyer monster. You work at a small bookstore in Starcourt Mall along with Nancy. town there's a small bar that you occasionally read your poetry to the drunken people, it was only for the weekend random people from the bar or around the neighborhood would read their poetry/stories, no one you knew went here. 

“Hey Nac, is it alright with you if I head out now?” 

looking down your watch it read 7:30 it was Friday and the mall closed at 9, you just want to get home have a shower possibly change clothes before heading down to Dragons Corner Bar. you found this bar when you were tripping on shrooms walking through some woods, thought you were walking in wonderland in the middle of October here a Hawkins. What's odd about the bar was it was hidden, the driveway is long and the parking was big enough to fit probably 100 cars but there's always people walking here. People who are not from your town. Every time you went you felt like you've entered dark ages of dragons, princesses, kings and queens, the entire bar was shaped as a castle. 

“Yeah that's fine Y/N, go enjoy your night!” she said with a smile, she usually takes closing on Fridays and you'd take Saturday, as a win win, both satisfied.

As you were leaving the store looking around starcourt so many families laughing, kids running around at their playstation, mothers sitting all together chatting who knows what. A Lot of people from Hawkins high are always here but luckily for you, an exit next to your store. It was a blessing. Avoiding big crowds and possible interactions with people from school isn't what you want. You hated it. Weirdly enough your friends with Nancy who used to be popular, both of you guys are opposite personalities, you will like the odd one out considering you love rock/punk bands and wearing dark clothes, but you always made it look cute making some popular girls angry. You found it amusing. 

Walking to your car wasn't much of a walk since they have a section for employees to park, another blessing this Mall has to offer. As you were unlocking your car, you heard the door the mall opened. You wiped  your head around, only to find your favorite crush wearing his cute sailor uniform, ‘thank god i don't have a dress code’ you thought.

 “Steve! Ahoy mate!!” 

giving your best pirate voice and mimicking dancing around in excitement to seeing him, Steve on the other hand that it was bad and laughed. 

You loved the way he laughed it was gentle and soft, not enough to roll your eyes but enough to keep making him laugh forever  “Y/N enjoyed the attempt but that was bad!” Steve laughed clutching his stomach like he couldn't breathe

He was wiping away tears that went down from all the laughter” i must say cute little dance you did, ya missed me that much?” Steve said sending you a wink.  

“are you done now? I tried okay don't give me your bs” you rolled your eyes trying to be sassy.

 “Hey now i said it was cute” Steve said while taking off his shirt in front of you, not caring if anyone saw. You couldn't help but stare a little bit, he was fit, nice arms, toned, abs looked so nice you'd want to lick them. Snapping out of your trance of the boy, you went into your car, open the glove compartment to get a small bag containing rolled joints. picked one out throwing the bag onto your passenger seat, fumbling in your purse for a lighter. Groaning not having one on you. 

“Need a light?” Steve said holding out his lighter already having the flame dancing for you

Leaning over to light the joint perfectly placed between your lips, inhaling and exhaling before handed it off to Steve, you always loved smoking with him. hell, he's the one that got you into it in the first place. 

“Did you roll this?” Steve asked admiring the perfectly rolled joint like he's never seen one nicely rolled, twirling it around if with his fingers. 

“Yeah, I usually like to roll a couple at a time and light one whenever” taking the joint from Steve, you briefly touch his hand, that alone gave you small butterflies, sending you shivers all throughout your body.

“How was work? It was pretty busy up at Scoops, god little kids are a bit annoying not knowing what flavor they want” 

Steve said frustrated touching the back of his head “robin took care of most of them trying to get them to leave already” he said taking the joint from you inhaling, exhaling the smoke trying to make a ring. Failed but he tried. 

“Work was okay, had a few customers come in to buy books, rearrange a small area in the back with Nancy. Were thinking about getting a rescue dog or cat to keep around the bookstore, so were making a little hang out area for people to read their books and have a nice time with animal” 

you smiled at the thought of it coming together, you were more excited to adopting a kitty. Steve was looking at you smiling, admiring just how beautiful you are and sometimes he wonders if he should ask you out, he always had this crush on you but from all the rejections he's gotten asking you made him nervous.

 He found it sexy just watching you hitting the joint, sometimes he wants to take your face in his hands and kiss you till your lips fall off but he couldn't he was too scared. He really wants to.

“Should get both? Don't you live at the cabin all alone? Get a cat for the bookstore since they are low maintenance and they can take care of themselves”  

“I actually haven't thought of that, being alone in the cabin doesn't get lonely, im used to it, peaceful. Besides i asked Nancy to move in since she wants to be away from her house” you took a couple more hits off of the joint before burning it out. Looking towards the sky above trying to look at the stars but it was cloudy so nothing was out. 

“I can take you to a shelter and help you pick a cat or dog, whichever you'd want” Steve said giving you a small grin like a little small boy, ugh you thought to yourself, sometimes you think he likes you but you're sure he flirts with every girl. 

“Yes i would love that, maybe get food after? My treat” you said singly leaning over to him giving him the biggest smile ever

“Yeah we can eat burgers and milkshakes, how does that sound? I know a place we can go” Steve said while getting down off of your car hood, stretching showing a little of his abs. ‘Fuck’ you thought to yourself. ‘Why am I like this’ thinking this made you groan in annoyance hat Steve picked up

“ whats up Y/N ? watcha got going on tonight? Steve asking while fixing and trying to style his fluffy hair that you oh so loved.

“Gonna go home, refresh myself and then read a book, easy night for a long day” you lied to him, you didn't want no one knowing where your little secret bar was, you didn't want anyone to hear about your poetry. 

Especially Steve, sometimes you write about your feelings about him but still you'd rather hide it and not have anyone know about it except well for Nancy she’d know about the crush you have for Steve for awhile now, she says it shows all over my face whenever he's around. Never got what she meant but never cared.

“Sounds relaxing to me, i'm going to meet Dustin and everyone for a drive a Quarry, ill see you around princess” Steve said while getting into his car, rolling down his window flashing you the prettiest smile “i hope you enjoy your night Y/N” waving to you while driving off. 

“I wish you'd kiss me” you said out loud but no one but you heard that. Getting into your car you drove off.

Entering dragons corner everyone knew you, pretty much you will come here to escape being alone at home and nights when your thoughts got too much and a drink is what you need. 

“Hey Y/N welcome back!” 

Tom yelled from behind the corner waving at you. 

“Hey Tom! Hows Betta?”

 you smiled and waved taking a seat next to Lewis the other bar owner. Betta is tom's wife for over 40 years! You wish you find your soulmate and be together long, sounded cheesy but it's something you've always wanted. “Whats up girl” Lewis said going in for a fist bump. 

“Betta doing good, she's been out of town visiting her mother and sisters” he said while mixing up your usual drink, dirty pina colada. not one for beer because of the taste and itll reminded you too much of your stupid father. “You miss her? Whens shes coming back?” you asked wondering when she’ll be back, she treated you like her own daughter after some poetry sessions you'd cry so badly in the bathroom, since you became a regular and pretty cool, they gave you a key for the back office that's so quiet and away from all the noise.

 “She should be coming tomorrow, she's been gone for 3 weeks! Not having her around the bar have been so quiet” he said coming around the bar, taking a seat next to you. 

“Here made your favorite, added a lil too much of alcohol but it should be okay” tom said giving you the drink with 3 cherries on top because he knows how much cherries are your favorite.

Taking a gulp from the drink you can slightly tell the more alcohol in this, burned your throat a bit but the chillness of the drink helped.

“The drink is wonderful and much needed” enjoying the drink while looking around its a full house, lots of people. Just thinking about being on the stage made you sick but thats why having one dirty pina colada was enough

 “Open mic is gonna be starting soon, i think Lewis is getting the mic set up” he said standing up from his chair stretching and sighing 

“It's been awhile since we got this much people, betta would be happy” 

You had your journal with you with all of your notes of places, people you meet, drugs you've tried, and all the poetry you wrote. It's something you don't want to ever lose. 

“Can I go first this time?” I asked nicely, giving him my biggest pout.

“Yeah i gotchu, want another drink? Virgin?” asked before wanting to add anything, he knew you drove here, doesn't want you to be impaired while driving, he cares about you too. 

“Yeah, thanks I appreciate it” accepting the drink while Lewis stands on stage getting everyone's attention.

“Welcome welcome our insomniac and alcoholics…..

Earning a chuckled from the crowd. 

Welcome to Dragons Corner, tonight we are hoisting our open mic and everyone who is everyone is able to come up here, thank you all for coming and enjoy your evening!!!’’ earning a loud cheer from everyone and having the small fainted of jazz music played, they like to keep it quiet when people are talking but not having any dead silence could get boring and make the readers nervous too. 

“We'd like to start off with our favorite writers Y/N!!” Lewis said clapping towards my direction to motion me on the stage having everyone cheering for me made all my jumping nervous calm again.

“Hello everyone, im Y/N and i will be reading some sort of love poem for someone that i wish would notice me, alright here we go…

When i think of you i think of all the good things life has to offer

like coffee on an early morning 

the first sight of the sunset or sunrise

Or when someone falls in love for the first time

The way you smile 

The way you laugh

The way your hair is poofy and curly

Sharing smokes, secrets, food, love

I wonder what's it like to kiss you

To touch you

To feel you touch my skin

I wonder what's it like making love to you 

My lips ache for yours 

Please notice me

Notice me how birds notice a worm on the pavement 

Notice me

I want to give you the world in this cold lonely world

Notice me………”

You finished and stepped off the staged, everyone snapping their fingers no one clapped during open mic it was just more quieter and better. “Who is this lover boy?hmmm” Lewis said walking down the bar and meeting your gaze

“This kid named Steve, i went to school with him. He was this big king of Hawkins high before Billy came into town and took that title. Steves sweet and nice. He's always looking out for me” 

you said smiling just thinking of him made your stomach want to do flips, just something about im made you feel so alive, he’d always make sure you were okay. 

“Does he feel the same?” asked while cleaning around being busy but still talking to you 

“I'm not sure, well i don't know, i wish i knew..” just the thought of him liking someone else made you sick and sad. You just wanted to be his.

“You're too wonderful Y/N, i bet he does feel the same” giving you a pat on the shoulder and giving you a warm smile the one that says ‘you got this’ 

You let out the biggest sigh and decided to head out. “Alright Lewis, Tom i'll see you guys tomorrow night!” waving at both of them as you were leaving the magical castle. Stepping outside was a little more chiller than before but luckily you dressed warm. Turning on your car playing fleetwood mac.

Returning to your cabin, you've decorated it with tiny lights so when you've come home in the middle of the night you can see where you're going and not fall and hit yourself like last time before buying the lights, recalling the memory and the pain you just glad it wasn't anything major. Although the figure waiting on your porch was something you didn't expect. 

“Steve?” you questioned the figure it was dark you couldn't tell who it was

“Hey Y/N..” he replied with a little sadness in his voice something you notice right away 

“Lets go inside, got something on your mind?” asked curiosity hoping it wasn't anything but bad but just wanted a friend

“I thought you were here like you said earlier but no one answered so I waited, it was only an hour, i dropped Dustin off and i wanted to see you again..” he smiled towards your direction while being distracted with your living room and how nice it looks.

“It's so cozy here” he said eyes wandering around can't seem to be fixed on something

“I try to make it as cozy as possible since it's just me, i need my home relaxing environment. It helps alot” you said while disappearing into your room to change into pjs, you hadn't realized you forgot to put on pants because your tipsy mind forgot about Steve

“Cute butt” Steve said while checking out your ass, couldn't help himself but also want to embarrass you. Realizing this you ran to your room to grab a pair of shorts 

“My bad, had small drink” your face redder than a tomato at this point. Steve on the other hand found it adorable you blushed really dark red 

“Soo steve why are you here and no home?” completely forgot about why he was waiting for you

“Well i wanted to see a movie but not alone and so i thought of you, i have movies we could watch” steve taking out 2 movies from his jacket and handing it to you 

“Halloween 2 and Alien, hmmm horror type? Lets watch alien i love Ripley” popped the movie in and went over to the couch where Steve started to get comfy

“Would you want to stay? It's late and I wouldn't want you to drive” you asked hopefully it'll be a yes since you could possibly ask to cuddle later on. You looked over to Steve lost in thought but snapped back to reality quickly when you asked him to stay  

“If you don't mind, we can make pancakes tomorrow” he said with a soft smile 

“Yeah i'd love that” 

[thrashton]

Soaring light (elu, chapter 3)

Name: Soaring Light Fandom: Skam france Pairing: Lucas Lallemant/Eliott Demaury Tags: assassin!au, falling in love, angst, hurt/comfort Summary: Don’t get attached, do not engage in any physical contact… The list of rules were long, but Lucas had never been the one to follow orders. In fact, he might have broken all of them in just a week, all because of the piercing blue eyes staring at him from the assignment in his hands, and the charming, mysterious boy they belonged to. Chapter summary: Lucas thinks Eliott forgot all about him and watch Pirates of the Caribbean a few too many times to pass time.

prologue and chapter one&two can be found at the soaring-light tag at my blog, just click on the tag on this post. tumblr don’t wanna show my post in the search tag if I put in links… and on ao3 with the username thetimeisnow)

- Chapter 3.

When Lucas was 19, he met an older man at the bar. The man was dressed in a long, dark coat and a colorful hat and caught his attention in a second, mostly because of the odd choice of clothing.

The man waved Lucas over to his table, introduced himself and asked what he did for a living. Lucas found nothing weird or uncomfortable with the man’s behaviour, and he was also a bit tipsy.

The man told him he had been at the bar across the street, where Lucas worked at back then, a few times and had seen him him work, interact with customers and dealt different situations in a way he found fascinating. Lucas had never seen him before, but he did love compliments.

He had then asked him what he’d do for money, for a stable life. Lucas had, of course, laughed said anything because honestly, that’s how he felt at that point; had a low-pay job he hated and had to move within two months.

That night, Lucas had slipped a pill into an old man’s drink, having no idea what the pill did. A day later, he saw an article online about the strange death of the same man, and another day passed before he got his first contract sent with the post. He had put two and two together immediately.

After that, there was no way out. At first, he’d been terrified at every police car ringing in the distance, and as he receive his first reminder of his next mission, he realised the old man probably had proof he killed the guy at the bar and he had no other choice than to continue.

But as time and missions went by and he realised he wasn’t going to get caught; he grew comfortable. He was one of his boss’ best employees and well respected in their community. It was rare, for such a young age, he’d been told multiple times.

Therefore, Lucas had no idea why he went around, nervous like a man about to be hung (or something, but that reference was all he could think of after watching all the Pirates of the Caribbean movies three times to keep himself occupied) waiting for Eliott to text him.

Which he hadn’t. It had been four days.

He was scared at first, that he’d get in trouble with his boss, but he had been contacted by his right hand, a middle aged, rich woman from the more beautiful parts of Paris, and she told him that his boss understood the Eliott Demuary case was special and could take time. He had gotten an offer to change contract, but he nicely declined.

No one else could touch Eliott, except for him.

Two days after the bar, he had gotten a new follower on instagram. And nearly fell off the bed. He hesitated for around five hours before finally following Eliott back. He watched the video of his face a few (fifty) more times, considered writing him a DM, but then Yann slapped some sense into him and told him he had to pull himself together.

Lucas was sitting in his couch, phone upside down on his right. On his left side, a few pills were laying nicely on a folded paper. The easiest thing would be to find him in an exposed situation like before; at a bar, a club, a restaurant. The pills took between five hours to one day to work, depending on how many he slipped in the drink. They dissolved with first touch of water and didn’t taste anything which made them very easy to slip into whatever Eliott would be drinking.

He would rather not watch him die. Maybe he should lock himself up for a week or two after poisoning him so he didn’t have to see any newspapers when Paris learnt their favorite model was dead. Lucas swallowed thickly. It would be fine.

Then, his phone buzzed. He was lucky no one was there to watch him, because he threw himself over it in an embarrassingly fast speed.

-

From: Unknown number

Hey

-

Lucas stared at the screen.

-

To: Unknown number

Who’s this?

-

Did he answer too fast? Maybe it was someone who got his number wrong. Maybe it was not Eliott.

-

From: Unknown number

Eliott. You know, the cute one?

-

To: Eliott

I’m not sure I know you.

-

Eliott could read sarcasm, right? Lucas bit his lower lip nervously.

-

From: Eliott

Funny guy ;) sorry it took so long to write. i didn’t know what to say-

-

To: Eliott

So you settled with “hey”?

-

Was he being rude? No. He was being funny, right? What if Eliott found him incredibly boring and decided he wasn’t worth answering?

-

From: Eliott

I’m creative like that. Do you wanna grab coffee with me?

-

To: Eliott

I don’t drink coffee. wanna come over for gaming?

-

Considering how much he’d been alone at home, playing stupid multiplayer games for a long time now, he had to show off his skills to someone.

-

From: Eliott

On the first date? ;) you could’ve just said so x

-

To: Eliott

NOT what I meant!!!!! Fine. Coffee!!

-

Lucas was blushing. And extremely happy no one was there to see it, or hear the shocked gasp that passed his lips as he realised his mistake.

-

From: Eliott

sure ;) two hours?

-

Lucas glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 11am now. Okay, that could work, he just had to shower, dry his hair, get it to stick in place, decide what to wear, cry for a bit, decide how he should kill the guy and preferably spend one hour yelling. It could work.

-

To: Eliott

okay. where?

-

From: Eliott

ill pick you up, be outside ;)

-

Lucas wasn’t a fan of the winky face.

-

To: Eliott

do you know where i live?

-

From: Eliott

haha lucas, be ready in two.

-

To: Eliott

you didnt answer, do you know where i live??

-

Lucas didn’t get any other answer. Great. Fantastic. He glanced down at the pills next to him. A few images flashed in his head from the guy he’d seen fall down on his knees two months back, his last kill. A middle aged white man who had gotten away with raping his own daughter. It was his ex wife, mother of the girl, who wanted him dead.

Lucas obliged. He didn’t even feel the slightest ounce of regret over kills like that, but he couldn’t understand what Eliott could have done to get a price that high on his head. Sure, Lucas didn’t really know the guy, but he still felt in his soul that Eliott could never be capable of doing anything like that. He had seen evil in the eyes of the men he’s killed, but Eliott’s eyes had no trace of it.

Maybe a rival? Someone who wanted his followers, his money? He surely had to be rich. For a rich person, the amount of money put on his head might not be too much. That was probably the case, Lucas thought, he was just overthinking this.

He hesitated a moment, but then he put one pill in a small plastic bag and put it in his pocket. Just in case he got a good opportunity to slip it into his coffee.

Eliott was just on time. Exactly two hours later, his phone vibrated on the table. Lucas was sitting, newly showered, nervous enough he feared his stomach was going to turn upside down and then he’d puke it out. Disgusting.

He stared down at the text.

-

From: Eliott

here

-

It was just one word, but he still felt like he was going to throw up. Okay, he could do this. It wasn’t that bad, it would be fine. It would be great. If he just managed to keep his heart inside his chest until he was downstairs, it would all work out. There was no good explanation to why his legs were shaking as he walked down the stairs, nor why he was sweating more than normal.

It was just a coffee. It was nothing. It was fine.

Eliott was standing, leaning back on the hood on, what Lucas assumed, was his car. A black, newer Audi model; just what Lucas expected from him. It looked fresh, and so did Eliott, hair a beautiful mess on top of his head, a black hoodie under a brown-ish jacket. He stood gazing up in the sky, like he was posing for a shot. Lucas stopped behind the door out, just to look at him for amoment extra.

Eliott hadn’t noticed him yet, he was tapping with his foot on the ground and if Lucas didn’t know better he’d say he looked nervous. Lucas swallowed thickly, giving himself a confident nod and opened the door to step out in the warm weather. Eliott looked up; a sweet, big grin spreading across his face and Lucas almost melted into a pile of despair on the ground.

Fuck. This wasn’t good. His stomach made him feel things that he wasn’t supposed to feel. Like, extreme fucking attraction. Pure, strong and annoyingly exciting attraction.

“Hey”, Eliott said softly.

“Hi.” Lucas stood in front of him, hands in his pockets.

“You look great.”

Lucas watched him for a little too long before replying. “Thanks”, he said awkwardly, “you too.”

Eliott just kept grinning as he gestured over to the door behind him. “Hop in.”

Lucas nodded, “so where are we going?”

Eliott fucking winked. “You’ll see.”

They drove in silence. Well, it wasn’t complete silence because Eliott was blasting loud, extremely horrible music. Lucas wasn’t going to say anything, though, everyone liked what they liked, but he was pretty sure his ears were going to start bleeding at any moment.

They left town, driving down an empty road towards where only empty fields would fill his sight for kilometers. He glanced over at the confident man next to him, one hand on the wheel and knee bouncing up at down in rhythm with the music. This was how people got murdered, Lucas thought, which was funny because he was the last person who should be be nervous about getting murdered since he killed people for a living.

Technically, if he brought a knife, he could just stab Eliott right there. No one would notice. If he burnt the body, took the bones and set the car on fire, he’d be good to go.

It would be a waste, though, because Eliott looked hot. Leaning back against his seat, sunglasses on, hair in a mess and singing along to the few words his terrible music was producing; Lucas couldn’t stop staring. He couldn’t understand how he went to the same school as this guy and never even saw him, or even knew this walking piece of art breathed the same, sweaty school air.

Eliott glanced at him and Lucas looked away. The beautiful sound of Eliott’s loud laugh filled the air and made his music sound even worse. What was even happening with him, why was he like this? Who was he?

What the hell was he doing to Lucas?

Eliott parked next to what looked like an empty barn, the first building they’d seen for a good fifteen minutes, but it was recently painted in a beautiful red color. Lucas thought he could hear the clinking of glass from inside. Eliott turned off the music and stepped out of the car without a word, and gestured Lucas towards the front of the building.

“What’s this place?”

“The best café in France”, Eliott said proudly.

A few cherry trees were randomly placed on the short side of the building, and outside the barn door, a big, white dog was lying. He lifted his head lazily when he saw them arriving, but made no effort to greet them more than a slow wag of his fluffy tail. Lucas loved dogs. Just the sight of the beautiful white giant made his heart skip a beat.

“That’s Maxie”, Eliott pointed, “he’s supposed to be guarding but he’s not very good at his job.”

“He’s adorable”, Lucas grinned, “hi, buddy.” He ran his fingers through the soft fur. The dog closed his eyes and huffed out a breath. “What breed is this?”

“Slovensky cuvac”, Eliott replied, “or something like that.”

Lucas was sure his eyes were shaped like hearts as he glanced up at Eliott. “Wow. Okay, what does this place got to offer?”

Eliott opened the big wooden door. Lucas threw a last glance around the beautiful landscape, the big, empty fields and the slim dirty road leading up to the bar, before entering.

The inside was just as impressive. Another big, white dog was sleeping under a weirdly placed chair just next to them as they stepped in, and in front of them, what looked like an old stable without horses, showed the way to another door. The walls were filled with old paintings of women in dresses and men in armor and surrounded by beautiful nature, and a few paintings of animals. He recognized racoons, cats, foxes and a few unidentified species, but they were cute either way.

Eliott pointed towards one of them. “I painted them.”

Lucas raised his brows, “really?”

The proud smile on his face told Lucas he was absolutely telling the truth. “Yep!”

“They’re good”, he said, nodding encouraging.

“You think so?” Eliott asked, his voice genuinely surprised.

“Yeah, absolutely!” Lucas agreed because it was the truth. He’d definitely buy one. “Maybe you can make me one.”

Eliott stopped mid step, watching at him closely. Lucas shifted, thinking he said something bad. “What?”

“Hedgehog”, Eliott said and laughed softly, “that’s what I’d make you.”

Lucas raised his brows. “I’m a hedgehog?”

Eliott huffed, “yes. I’ll paint you something and you’ll see. Now, come on!” He grabbed Lucas arm, wrapping his fingers around his wrist and ran down the old stable. Lucas felt like a disney princess, and he was absolutely loving it.

Behind he next door, a small, cute café opened up. With only five tables, Lucas realised this was probably only for the need-to-know-guests, and not just anyone. A third, big white dog of the same breed was lying under one the table, raising his head when they entered. He barked. A deep, loud sound.

To the left the counter was placed, different buns and creations were piled up to show off the different options to eat. Footsteps were heard, and a blonde head looked out through the door leading in to what Lucas guessed was the kitchen.

“Eliott!” the lady exclaimed happily and hurried around the counter to greet them. “It’s good to see you! Didn’t hear you come in, dogs didn’t react!”

“They like me now”, Eliott laughed and hugged her. “Lucas, this is Alison. Alison, this is Lucas.”

The blonde beauty, Alison, grinned at him with white teeth. She reached up and kissed his cheek “Hi! Nice to meet you. Are you the boyfriend?”

Lucas stared at her, stuttering out an embarrassing whiny sound. “Wha- no. No, I’m not- what? No.”

She laughed loudly, holding her hands up in defense. Eliott was grinning too. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume. What can I get you?”

“Hot chocolate”, Lucas said dumbfoundedly.

“And two cheesecake, lemon. Please?” Eliott gestured towards the table for two closest to the big window the room. Lucas sat down without another word, which was probably for the best since he was incredibly talented in embarrassing himself.

Eliott filled a glass of water and followed him, sliding down on his chair and resting his face in his hands. God, what an actual angel sent from heaven, Lucas thought, how was he going to kill this guy? Just as the thought passed through his head, Eliott excused himself to the bathroom and left him alone. Lucas stared at the water glass in front of him.

Just slip the pills in. They’ll dissolve, no one will ever know and he’d be dead within 24 hours. Just put the pills in, get the money and forget about Eliott Demaury and his stupid, perfect smile and his soft hair he so badly wanted to run his fingers through.

Just slip the pills in the glass.

But Lucas couldn’t. He could only stare, stare for how many minutes it took for Eliott to come back in the room, give a half-hearted greeting and sit down again. Lucas continued to stare at the lost opportunity and did his best to ignore the growing lump in his throat.

“So”, Eliott smiled, bringing his attention back to reality, “tell me about yourself.”

[jiminisjamin]

The Truth About Steve.

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Requested: No.

Summary: On her first day back at work, she thinks something is off about the new employee, Steve. He doesn’t ever seem to know what he’s doing and seems lost, hurt, and confused- that’s what drew her to him. A magnetic pull that, despite y/n’s efforts, she couldn’t seem to shake. She felt something deep within her soul that she couldn’t ignore- even when he wasn’t around she was thinking about him. So, what is it? And what’s that faint, faint blue light that seems to encircle him wherever he goes?

Warnings: None.

Rating: Fluff.

Word Count: 3,264

Title: The Truth About Steve | Part One (of 3)

 Castiel's eyes begin to flutter shut as he leans against the checkout counter, his heart beating slowly and his head bobbing as he slowly drifts off. A weak voice in the back of his head fights with him to stay awake as he hears footsteps nearing him, but he simply rests his chin in his hand. "Hello," he murmurs. "What can I do for you today? Checking out? Cash or..." He shakes his head, his eyes briefly fluttering open at the sound of quiet laughter. 

"You're the new guy, huh?" Castiel blinks a few times, standing up a little straighter. "Oh. Hello," he extends his hand in greeting. "I'm-"

"Steve. I can see your name tag," she laughs slightly, reaching out and shaking his hand before giving him another smile. "You looked beat- what happened? Did you stay up too late?" Castiel pauses, unsure what the correct response would be. Does he tell her he doesn’t have a place to stay, let alone enough money for the essentials of human living, or does he lie? He pauses as he slowly realizes he doesn't even know what humans would do late at night, and instead shrugs, faltering slightly. 

"I didn't sleep well. I'm...in between homes right now." He casts his gaze away, and y/n frowns, tilting her head at him. Her heart swells slightly as she takes in his helpless, broken demeanor and she puts her hand on his shoulder sympathetically. 

"We've all been there," she whispers, unable to ignore the tug at her heartstrings when he meets her gaze. "If you need help, let me know." Castiel tilts his head.

"You don't know me," his gaze flickers to her nametag. "Y/n, you do not know me." His gaze slides back to her, his eyes darkening slightly. "I could be dangerous," chills run up her spine at the way his voice drops an octave, yet his lips turn up in a quirky, lopsided half-grin, and he turns his gaze to the ground again. "Not that I am," he says quickly. "But I could be." Y/n laughs and shakes her head.

"For some reason I highly doubt that," she regards the faint glow around him, her eyes shining. "There’s something about you...I can't quite place it, but you seem good." Castiel’s eyes light up at this, and he smiles softly again. 

"I'm glad you're not frightened of me." His eyes close again, and he sways slightly, gripping the counter for support. "Sorry- don't worry about me, I'm fine." He waves his hand as she approaches behind the counter, reaching out and grabbing hold of him to try and steady him.

"You don't look too good, Steve." She tightens her grip on his arm when he lurches forward, and she shakes her head. "Okay, that's it. We're closing early- come on, I'm gonna get you back to where you’re staying so I know you didn't die on the way." Castiel shakes his head slightly

"You can't do that," his breath comes out raspy, and y/n nods.

"Yes, I can- and I will."

"No, you..." He looks down at her. "When I said I'm in between homes- I don't have one y/n, as in- no friends, no family…I don’t have anywhere," she blinks a few times, her gaze falling on the dimming light around him, a small, low static him filling her ears.

"Well...then...you're coming home with me," she tugs his arm lightly. "Come on, I want to make sure you're okay. I can...I can make you some soup? You can camp out on my couch or something until you find a place." Castiel turns his gaze to her once more. Her heart beats quickly at the desperate look in his eyes, his obvious want for food and a warm place to stay battling with the doubts swirling around in his head. 

"Steve, please." He blinks a few times, casting his gaze away and sighing.

"That's very kind of you," he replies. "I am forever grateful." She smiles and helps guide him out to her car, making sure there are no customers on her way, and locking up once they are outside. He practically falls into the passenger seat, his head falling back and eyes closing instantly, a small grunt falling past his lips. She smiles to herself, shutting the door after him and moving quickly over to her door, climbing in. 

"If you end up being a murderer I'm going to be so angry," she mutters, eliciting a laugh from his direction, followed by a deep sigh. She glances over at him once more before starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot. Castiel grins again, his eyes involuntarily closing as the radio quietly hums to life.

“Mmm. It’s a good thing I’m not,” he replies softly, pausing before turning his gaze to her. “I’m very…pleasantly surprised by your kindness, y/n. In only a few weeks I’ve been shown kindness that revives my faith in this world.” Y/n blushes slightly and turns on her right turn single.

“Well…thank you. I’m just doing the right thing,”

“What if it’s not safe?”

“Well…I don’t know. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt- you don’t seem bad.” Y/n looks away from the road to meet his gaze and smiles. “I guess I trust you? It’s not like we’re total strangers- we’ve been around each other a bit.” Castiel smiles softly and lets ’s his eyes close again. He hums contently, the cool air blowing some of his hair around a bit.

“That’s true,” he replies softly. “We haven’t talked much, but we’ve worked with each other for a while.”

“We haven’t talked because you’ve never answered me. It’s like you don’t know how to talk to girls or something.” Castiel’s cheeks heat up and he hangs his head in shame, his demeanor once again resembling a kicked-puppy.

“My…social skills are rusty,” he mumbles softly, his hand twitching slightly as a sad look crosses his face. He lifts his head up, eyes shiny, and turns his gaze to the car’s sunroof, staring at the sky as stars and street lamps fly past them. “I’m not too good with people,” he clarifies. “I’ve had a sort of…crutch ever since I’ve been here, and…” his voice trails off. “And now I don’t.” Y/n nods, but stays silently, keeping her gaze on the road. “It’s overwhelming,” he continues, “there are so many things you have to worry about. Food, shelter, clean clothes…” He sighs. “And on top of all of that, you have to…interact with others in a way that won’t offend them. Or scare them.”

“Steve?” She asks softly. “Is this the first time you’ve been on your own?” Castiel pauses and then nods.

“Yes. I had…well, I used to have a great deal of power, and I gave it up for what I thought was right, and for my friends. And, well, I still had my power but not the same position. Now I don’t have power, and…now my friends,” his eyes shine more as he stares at the sky, “they kicked me out of their place.” Y/n frowns.

“So, you sacrificed everything for them, and once you lost this…power, they just dumped you on the side of the road?” Castiel nods.

“Basically, yes.”

“Steve…” she shakes her head. “I’m so sorry- that’s not…that’s horrible. What kind of friend…”

“I’m sure he had his reasons,” Castiel interjects. “He wouldn’t have done it if there wasn’t a reason.” Y/n can’t help but notice the hope in his voice and she briefly turns her gaze to him.

“You don’t know though?”

“No, not really.”

There’s a long stretch of comfortable silence, both thinking about the other as y/n drives.

Castiel can’t keep his mind off how nervous he seems to be around her- and how genuinely kind she is to take him in like this, let him stay at her place- still with an underlying fear of something bad waiting for him at the house.

Y/n can’t wrap her head around why she’s so drawn to Steve- sure, he’s handsome, but she usually doesn’t throw trust at strangers like this. But something about Steve feels…safe, familiar, even. Yet she can’t figure out what, or why. She sighs, her grip tightening around the wheel slightly. She notices Steve’s eyes closing, and his head bobbing slightly as he slowly dozes off. Her eyebrows pull together slightly at the ever-dimming light surrounding him, not thinking as she reaches out to feel it, curiosity getting the best of her.

Her hand hovers just over his shoulder, a light tingle traveling up her arm, causing her to gasp. Steve jerks awake, his eyes widening as he pulls away from her slightly, his hand grabbing her wrist.

“I-I’m sorry,” she pulls her hand away quickly, her cheeks heating up as she turns her attention to the road. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, I just…” Her voice trails off, and Steve shivers slightly.

“It’s fine, y/n. You didn’t mean any harm…” He stretches in the limited space he has, a loud sigh escaping his lips. “I’m just very tired.” She glances over at him, frowning.

“You look kinda pale,” she murmurs.

As she pulls into her apartments parking lot, she glances over at him worriedly. She quickly parks and reaches over, lightly feeling his forehead.

“Oh, Steve,” she sighs, pulling her hand away and frowning. “You have a fever.” Castiel frowns, the same puppy dog expression crossing his face.

“A fever?”

“Yeah, you’re sick.” She sighs and opens her door. “Come on, I have some ibuprofen inside- it’ll help with the fever.” Castiel sighs, pushing the door open and practically rolling out of the car, barely catching himself on the door.

“I’m never sick,” he mumbles, holding his head slightly. “This is horrible.” Y/n rushes over to his side and grabs his arm.

“Come on, Steve. Let’s get you up to my room- if you want I could make soup, or…”

“No, no! Please, you’re already offering me a place to stay- and giving me medicine. You don’t need to do anything else for me.” Castiel replies quickly, guilt forming in the pit of his stomach.

“But, I must have dinner anyways, Steve. I might as well…” She looks hopefully at him, his quickly dulling blue gaze turning to her.

“I…y/n, I…” He sighs, his eyes fluttering shut. “I think I need to sit down,” he reaches out for the car to steady himself, and y/n’s eyes widen as her grip tightens on his arm.

“Okay, okay, come on. I’m taking you up.”

 Castiel practically collapses onto the couch, his chest rising and falling heavily as he squeezes his eyes shut, the sound of y/n shuffling through drawers deafening to his ears. The material of his clothes scratches at his skin, his whole body practically tingling as every slight move sends an odd sensation through his body. He groans in discomfort, tugging the sleeves of his shirt up to try and get relief from the heat, only to breath heavily when it sends a painful, tingling sensation through his whole arm. Y/n rushes over and stares down at him.

“I, uh- I think I have an old boyfriend’s shirt you could wear- an ex, ex…uh.” She sets something down on the table. “Right. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Castiel’s eyes flutter open as she walks away.

“What do I need a shirt for?”

“So, you aren’t so overheated,” she calls out, quickly rushing back in with a plain grey T. “Here, if you want- uh, if you have boxers on or something, you could take off your pants- if it, uh…would make you more comfortable?” She holds the shirt out to him, and he stares forward at it. He takes the shirt, and shifts, pushing himself to stand up. “Whoa, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to…is there a restroom I could change in?” Y/n coughs slightly and nods. “Yeah, I, uh, sorry.” She laughs. “Yeah, over here.” She takes his elbow and gently leads him over to the small bathroom, only walking away when the door closes.

She rifles through the medicine cabinet, trying to find ibuprofen and aspirin when she hears a loud crash. “Oh my god,” she rushes back to the bathroom, throwing the door open without thinking.

Castiel grips the counter to support himself, leaning his forehead on it as well. His bare back is turned to her, the only clothing actually on him being plain, white boxers. Y/n chokes slightly, and whirls around. “Oh- oh I’m so, uh, oh god…I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to- I hear a loud- I thought…I thought maybe you’d fallen, I didn’t…” Another low, almost pained groan falls past Castiel’s lips, and he shakes his head, attempting to stand up.

“It’s fine, y/n, I-” He lurches forward, catching himself on the doorframe, still gripping the shirt. She turns slowly.

“I…how did you even get this sick? What happened.” For the first time, y/n notices the dark circles under his sunken, tired eyes and how a light layer of sweat covers his torso, his skin almost looking sunburnt from the heat. Her jaw drops open. “Steve…what- why are you…how long have you not had a place to stay?” He turns his gaze to the ground, wobbling slightly despite his efforts to keep steady.

“A few months maybe.”

“Have you been eating?”

“Not consistently.”

“Are those the only clothes you have?” He pauses before slowly nodding. “Steve…” She frowns, and reaches out, grabbing his arm. “Come on, let’s get you to the couch.”

“What about the shirt?” Y/n pauses.

“If you’re comfortable you can leave it off, or you can put it on. I just thought you’d be more comfortable like this.” Castiel nods slowly and puts the shirt aside. “I could get you a blanket to cover up though- if you’d like.” He nods slowly.

“That would be nice,” he replies, watching her walk away only to reappear a few moments later with a thin, grey blanket. She drapes it across his lap, and opens a pill bottle, shaking out two small, round, red pills into his hand. “Take this,” she hands him a glass of water. “It should help your fever.” She stands up. “I’m going to change out of my work clothes, and then make some dinner. I’m probably going to make soup…would you like some?” Castiel’s eyebrows pull together and he nods slowly.

“Yes, I would…I would love some food, but please don’t go out of your way…”

“Steve, I have to eat. I might as well make you some food while I’m at it.” She smiles softly and then turns. “I’ll be right back- stay there, okay?” Castiel nods and his eyes flutter shut. He pulls the blanket up closer to his chest, allowing himself to relax on the couch more, his hot, flushed skin sensitive to the couch’s coolness. He hums softly, unable to open his eyes as he hears shuffling in the kitchen.

“Y/n?” He mumbles.

“Yeah, It’s me.” Castiel sighs at her voice, slumping on the couch more, now completely laying on the couch.

“I’m glad it wasn’t a robber- or a murderer,” he mumbles, swallowing thickly and trying to sit up. “I wouldn’t be much help,” y/n laughs at this, and he hears her soft footsteps grow nearer as she shuffles over to him, placing a cool cloth over his forehead.

“I’m just heating up some soup, it shouldn’t take too long.” She brushes strands of his slightly damp hair out of his face, practically combing through his hair with her hand as she stares down at him. Castiel mumbles incoherently, a small smile sliding across his face. Although y/n can’t hear what he says, she laughs softly, and her hand rests on the side of his face. “It’s like you’ve never had the flu before,” she mumbles softly, her head tilting as her lips curl into a small smile. His eyes flutter open and his lips briefly part.

“I don’t get sick very much,” he replies sheepishly.

“It must be because of you not taking care of yourself, recently.” She lightly taps his nose and stands up. “I’m gonna make you a bowl, and I’ll be right back over.” Castiel nods and forces himself into a sitting position, the blanket falling from around his shoulders and covering his lap. Y/n sits down next to him, holding the bowl carefully. She takes a small sip of the soup, and then nods, turning to Castiel. “Here, Steve.” She lifts a spoonful to his mouth and he glances at her briefly before his lips part and he takes the bite, quickly chewing the small chunks of vegetable and what appears to be chicken before swallowing. She smiles and reaches to get another spoonful.

“Y/n I can feed myself- you still need to eat.” She smiles slightly as she lifts the spoon up to him again, and he pauses, glancing over at her.

“I already ate, okay? I knew you wouldn’t let me cook food for you otherwise. So just…eat.” His cheeks turn red- whether from the fever, or embarrassment y/n wasn’t sure, but he complies, swallowing the soup and following her movements as she brings the spoon back to the bowl.

They continue this until the bowl is close to empty and Castiel refuses the last bites, claiming to be full. Y/n eyes him, squinting slightly.

“Are you saying that because you’re actually full or because you feel bad? Because we are literally like three bites away from finishing this.”

“We?” Castiel echoes.

“You, I meant you.” She clears her throat. “So, uh, are you sure? You really don’t want the rest…” Castiel’s gaze stays on the bowl.

“Well…”

“Steve, just take the last of it. You haven’t been eating properly- as you said, you haven’t had a home. You might as well?” Castiel swallows roughly, slowly nodding.

“Yes, please.” Y/n smiles and quickly feeds him the last of the soup. Castiel stares down at his lap, smoothing his hands over the light blanket. “Well…thank you, y/n- again. You’ve been so kind to me these past few hours.” She smiles, and pushes his hair back again, picking up the long-discarded (and no longer cool) washcloth. She sits up, and takes the bowl over to the sink, cautiously returning to the couch.

“So…” She sits down next to him, and he smiles over at her tiredly. “I can go grab you a pillow and an extra comforter- are you cold? Do you need more blankets? I do have the extra comforter if you need it- and some other heavier blankets. Would you like some?” He smiles.

“If it wouldn’t be much trouble- I could help, if you want.”

“No, no. You rest here. Luckily for you, it’s Friday. If I remember right neither of us have work tomorrow…right?” Castiel frowns and nods slowly.

“I work weekdays,” he replies.

“Yeah! Me too.” They pause for a long time, and then she nods, standing up. “Okay. I’ll go get your blankets then.” She smiles again and heads for the closet.

It only takes a few minutes to gather all the items, but by the time she’s back, Castiel is already lying down, his head resting on the couch’s armrest, his bare chest rising and falling rhythmically. She lifts his head carefully to stuff the pillow underneath, and lays the blankets over him, walking over to the hallway and flicking the lights off. “Goodnight, Steve.” She mutters, turning away from him and sighing. “I really, really hope you’re as good as I think you are.”

Tags:

Castiel: @shows-up-naked-covered-in-bees

SPN: @thatshellfiredean , @idixsyncrxsy ,, @ain-t-bovvered , @shows-up-naked-covered-in-bees , @and-we-are-all-dead

Remember, you can ask to be added or removed from any taglist at any time.

[thebritishblabbermouth]

BTS Mafia Scenario: Jungkook

Heyya there gorgeous souls :))

Here is part 5 of the BTS mafia scenario as requested by @atricksterwithwings

I suggest reading parts 1,2,3 and 4 before this (especially part 1 and 4) just so you know what I am talking about... I mean you don't have to but I recommend the extra read (I have tried my very best not to disappoint my readers 🙈) 

Links: 

Part 1: Jin and Namjoon

Part 2: JHope 

Part 3: Suga

Part 4: Taehyung 

Part 6: Jimin and Epilogue 

The request presented was: BTS Mafia AU when they see their S/O after 2 years apart.

Although... Without further ado.. Here we have our Golden Makane in action!

Please let me know how you like it! Message as an anon or directly.. I don't mind :))

Jeon Jungkook:

‘’Tae…hand me my gun yeah? And the gloves too, they’re in those drawers.’’ I said, pointing to the furniture that held our armoury.

Kim Taehyung loved to play around, especially in the most mundane of situations. Coffee and Creams was his favourite shop in all of Seoul, the dim lighting of the café along with the chipping paint and creaking coffee machines did nothing to spoil his mood. This particular evening was supposed to be ours. Playing board games, cooking and making music. If only Namjoon hadn’t called from Exquila, something about getting back at Mr Choi, a prospective client that had almost ruined his evening. Plans had to be rescheduled and my moping brother pouted as he handed me my accessories. ‘’Tae hyung! Could you show me some respect!’’ he replied, slapping the gloves into my palm.

‘’Of course hyung…and my boots too please.’’ I said, smirking.

Taehyung crossed his arms and stood pencil straight, tapping his feet on the wooden floor in annoyance. ‘’You’re lucky I love you.’’ 

Bangtan sonyeondan constituted a bunch of misfits. We were a group of rogue fighters, shooters and ruler breakers, each member wrapped in his own history of pain and anger. But between was unity and strength- keeping us connected as brothers- as a family. It wasn’t that we didn’t fight, in fact our arguments could span weeks on end, complete with cold stares and whispered curses. However, even amongst the most heated of cold wars, we would gladly take a bullet for one another. 

I zipped up my jacket and palmed the glock that lay tucked into the small of my back. ‘’I’ll be back by tomorrow at the latest, we can get lunch together. Mr Choi isn’t a hard target and besides, you already finished off his so called right hand tonight.’’

Taehyung nodded, and continued to check his phone. He sighed at the lack of notifications and I was tempted to question why he kept checking the device. It had been a saga of phone checks and disappointment all evening.

Placing it down onto the slab, he walked over to me and bent down to tie up my laces. Double knots for safety. I’d always be the makane, and I’d always be babied around. It was an unspoken rule- something I hadn’t agreed on. ‘’Joonie was supposed to strike a deal with Choi, not scare him away. He sounded so distraught on the phone? As if he were crying? I don’t understand, Choi is all riled up at the disrespect. With Suga hyungs wedding around the corner, Jesus, I really want all the loose ends tied up. Noona isn’t going to like it if a bunch of thugs crash her ceremony.’’ He said, finishing up with my shoes.

‘’That’s probably why Hyung asked me to put an end to this tonight. And you don’t always have to do up my laces you know!’’ I scoffed as he tiptoed to ruffle my hair.

We walked out into the darkness behind the coffee shop and Taehyung checked his phone for umpteenth time, his face lighting up as the ding of a text alert broke through the night.

‘’Ahh Jungkookie, we’ll have to postpone our plans, I have my own business to take care of.’’ He said, grinning. I hadn’t seen him smile like that in a while, but as a curious as I was, there was work to do, and my bike needed fuel for the long journey.

‘’Fine then…Ditch me for your plans. I’ll see you later Tae!’’ I answered, climbing onto the Enfield.

I revved the engine and it spurred to life, the noise drowning my brother’s scream. ‘’Yah! Tae HYUNG!’’

‘’I know your name TaeTae!’’ I said, laughing as I drove into the night. ‘’And I love you too!’’

My rear view mirror sparkled with his smiling face as he walked back into the coffee shop, ready to open it for business at 9 am.

‘’Could you top up the tank please.’’ I said to the employee at the petrol station. His head was covered with a baseball cap and he seemed frail beyond doubt, the blue overalls too large for his frame. It was a rough job, working at a gas station, and it required extreme amounts of patience and will. It must’ve been even harder to work in such a place when you weren’t physically adept to handle the unruly truck drivers and generically rude customers. The small man had even smaller hands as he reached out to grasp the dispenser and it didn’t take me long to realise that the worker was a woman. Her pale wrists were covered in black grease and wisps of her hair were escaping from the ponytail.

‘’That would be 30,000 won sir.’’ She answered, not once looking up from the floor. I nodded in response and pulled out the wallet from my jacket, ready to hand her the money. The interaction wasn’t an unusual one at all, but what piqued my interest was the way she angled her body to hide behind my own when another vehicle made its way into the service station.

The woman raised her head for the first time that night and I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. It had been two years since the end of high school, I had changed in more ways than one. But she hadn’t aged a day. It didn’t make any sense, I mean, why was the school beauty working at a petrol station?  She had the brains to garner admission into which ever college she desired, and the kindness to rule over any heart she pleased.

It hadn’t been hard for the loner boy at the back of the class to develop a racing heart every time she smiled his way. It hadn’t been hard for the same loner boy to stand before her today and not have the exact blush grace his own features. She was still beautiful, and she still didn’t know who he was.

‘’I know this may sound awkward but, could you please, stay here? Just until they leave?’’ she whispered, her eyes pleading at the request.

‘’I…don’t mind. Are they trouble?’’ I answered, covering her from the black Toyota. Men began to pool out from the vehicle, the cigarettes dangling from their stained lips, arms carrying the sharpest of knives. It was surprising to see them dressed in suits and it didn’t take me long to recognise one particular face. Choi.

‘’They don’t usually pay, and um…it’s pretty late right now. I don’t want trouble. Usually one of the other employees handles them but he’s on holiday today. I don’t….’’ she said, hiding further into my frame.

I handed her the keys to my bike and pressed her shoulders in reassurance, hopefully there wouldn’t be too much bloodshed. ‘’I’ll take care of them, why don’t you turn around hmm? I don’t think you want to see this.’’

She bobbed her head furiously and clutched the keys to her chest. I could only smirk at her actions.

‘’Where’s the pretty girl that hides behind the cash register! I wanted her to top us up tonight!’’ bellowed one of the men, the tight suit didn’t do well to hide his own gun.

‘’I am the only one hear gentlemen.’’ I said, walking up to the loud group. It didn’t take long for Choi to identify me and he sniggered at the recognition.

‘’Well, well, well…Bangtan have sent their Makane to handle me have they? It’s a pity we can destroy you in seconds, Namjoon really isn’t paying his respect to a potential business partner. It seems like you people are really underestimating my skills, sending in your weakest link to deal with me and my team.’’ Choi smirked in confidence at his own monologue and I smiled in return. If only they knew what was coming.

‘’I apologise on Namjoon’s behalf, he should’ve gutted said potential partner when he had the chance to. My brother can be a real saint with forgiveness at times.’’ I replied, rolling up the sleeves of my biker jacket. I walked over to fuel dispenser and proceeded to take the pipe into my hands.

‘’You have no idea who you’re messing with boy.’’ Said Choi as he sauntered over to my direction and took his own gun out of his pocket. It didn’t take long for him to clock it into position and hold it to my head. I could hear you gasp for air, hiding behind bike and my heart clenched at what you were about to witness.

I removed the cork from the fuel tank on the Toyota and placed the pipe into place. ‘’What's the need for all of that? I only wanted to fill up your tank. Tch Tch. Why the hostility?’’

‘’I don’t have a lot of patience nor do I have the time to deal with this, so let’s cut this short yeah?’’ said Choi, grasping the gun with both hands, trying to steady himself.

I sauntered over to the man with the cigarette between his teeth and pulled it from his lips. He seemed surprised at my action and palmed the knife that was securely tucked into his waist. ‘’What’s the rush?’’ I answered, taking a small drag. Cigarettes were the worst sort of invention, and I had never smoked a day in my life but desperate times often called for desperate measures. ‘’This is low tar? Does your boss not treat you well?’’ I took out the pipe from the car and ran my hand over the rim of the tank.  ‘’Now then Mr Choi, I suggest you take your gun off of my head or else, we’re all going to die the minute your car fills up.’’ I said, pointing the cigarette to the tank.

It didn’t take long for the knives to be pulled out, but these men were incompetent- amateurs at most. The way they held their weapons screamed fear and insecurity.

‘’Jungkook-ssi…really…you shouldn’t be doing this,’’ said Choi, lowering his gun and signalling the others to do so, the sweat on his brow as clear as day.

I raised the cigarette above the gas tank once more, inducing fear into their souls. ‘’I probably shouldn’t, so how about your minions drop all their armoury, get into the car and drive away. It won’t take too long will it?’’

The men were quick to drop their knives, scurrying into the car and leaving their bewildered leader to his own wits. I had anticipated Choi would pick up his own gun, but what I had not thought of was him aiming the barrel to you. It was only traditional he held you in a lock, his forearm pressed against your neck from behind, your trembling fingers unable to escape his grip. As soon as I had understood what he was trying to do, my own gun stood ready and loaded, pointing at his forehead.

‘’Such a pretty girl…all for my taking…You thought I couldn’t hear your cries love?’’ he said, tracing the nozzle of the pistol over your jaw. ‘’Jungkook-ssi…lower it will you? You know the drill…’’ Choi slurred, the golden metal embedded in replacement of his incisor gleaming, against the light.

Unnecessary issues, problems, civilians made bait between gang wars. This was something Bangtan hated. It was not your fight, it was mine, yet the gun was pointed at you. Bending down I placed my own glock onto the concrete, my eyes never leaving your tearing ones. It was a silent understanding, and I was amazed you grasped the situation so well. You clenched the keys tightly in your palm, pointing the metal towards Choi’s groin. I assumed it had taken all of the power in your body to plunge them into his thigh, the gun in his hand flying out of his clutch instantly. Seconds more and the barrel was pointing at him, the trusty glock not giving him a second to think as he doubled over in pain.

‘’Could you cover your ears for me? Just really tightly?’’ I said, without turning my head to your shaking form. I had to trust you did as you were told before pulling the trigger and ending his pathetic life. Two more shots fired to the perhaps broken CCTVs at the petrol station and I was standing next to you, crouching down to meet your gaze.

‘’It’s done…Are you okay? Don’t…don’t cry please?’’ I whispered, afraid that if I touched you, you would break into a thousand pieces. Instead, your sobs heightened in volume as you buried your head into my jacket. The touch sending shivers down my spine.

‘’You killed a man…Jungkook. You killed him!’’ you screamed, unable to control yourself.

I froze at the question, my hands-held mid -air just as I was about to caress your quaking back. I had killed a man. And until today, I hadn’t thought twice about it. Choi was a piece of scum, a debt to the world and he had been obliterated today- lying in a pool of his own blood- just as he had obliterated thousands before him.

My thoughts were frantic, running through images of the countless children and women he had slaughtered, but was I any different to him? Taking another human’s life, regardless of reason was wrong. You thought I was wrong. In that moment, nothing else seemed to matter. ‘’But you saved my life…I don’t know what to think anymore…Thank you…but I am not sure what I should be doing…’’ you said, angling your face upwards to mine.

‘’If you’ll let me…I mean- if you trust me…we can go to our headquarters. It’s not too far from here…you’ll be safe there. You can leave whenever you want...-‘’ I replied, holding my breath in fear of your response. It took you a minute to analyse my offer, a minute that seemed like centuries to my brain. I had butchered assassins in a heartbeat, taken bullets to my rib cage but nothing compared to this feeling. You were gripping my soul with each breath and you had no idea of it.

Standing to your feet, you brushed the dirt away from your overalls and attempted to steady yourself on the ground. Choi’s lifeless body lay before us, the blood seeping through his clothes and you couldn’t tear your eyes away. ‘’Okay…’’ you whispered.

‘’Hoseok will be here in a few minutes, to clean and sweep. His girlfriend is at home too…so is Hee Young…she’s 10 years old and she really is lovely, she’ll want to braid your hair.’’ I said, pointing to your long locks. ‘’Taehyung is there too…you remember him? From school? And Jimin…him and his wife are probably making dinner…he can’t cook well but-‘’

‘’Jungkook…it’s okay…I am okay…let’s go home.’’ You replied, calming me with your answer.

You called it home. And my heart couldn't help but consider it the most domestic of words, even more so when it came from your cracked but kissable lips.

It didn’t take long for us to climb onto the bike, your small form glued onto my back as we rode. But I couldn’t contain myself until we arrived, ‘’you remember my name?’’ I said. My question seemed to have fallen upon deaf ears as you snuggled further into my back, sleep over taking your senses. I tightened your hold around my torso, happy at the warmth seeping into me.

If only Jungkook had paid attention to your voice above the rumble of the engine, he would’ve heard you loud and clear,

‘’There hasn’t been a day I havent thought about you loner boy.’’

[nyaacatboy]

Fate’s Door, Chapter 12: Crash Course Magic

Masterpost/Chapter 11/Chapter 13

“Joan, I’m sorry I dragged you into this. Virgil, Logan, Patton, you too. You all could get in serious trouble for this, and it’s not fair to ask that of you. I shouldn’t have done this. If you want to leave when we get back to Archdale, that’s fine with me.” Roman lowered their head, casting a shadow across their face. Their previous princely attitude was gone, with a scared teenager in place.

Logan adjusted his glasses and gave Roman a piercing look. “There’s no way I’m leaving, Roman. This is important, and I’m not going to let that spell happen. No matter what, you’ll have me.”

The other two remained silent, their heads full of thoughts. Virgil was scared of prison or worse, and she knew that if anyone found out about her abilities, she’d never see the sun again. Yet no one would live if she didn’t use those abilities as best she could. Deep in her heart, Virgil knew that the spell was real. There was no doubt in her mind that awful things would happen after the solstice if nothing was done to stop them.

Patton had no doubt that he would stay with Roman and Logan to help, but he was at the same time not ready to. Of all three of them, he had the least helpful abilities. Sure, he could plan for a road trip, but he knew nothing of magic or storming a castle. All the same, there was no way he could stand idly by while the lives of the children at the orphanage were at stake. With what few skills he had, Patton had to help. He was the only parent those children had left.

“I’m in,” Virgil said, her voice slightly shaking. She still wasn’t quite over the interaction with the King’s Men.

“So am I.” Patton looked at Roman to see their reaction. Their soft smile was genuine.

“Oh yeah, and I’m sticking around. You all need a responsible adult. Teenagers,” Joan said, acknowledging Roman with a nod from the window. Purple streaks of sunset sped by as the train rushed onwards.

Still full of newborn courage, Virgil said, “So, Logan, does your bookstore have anything on sorcery?” She shifted in her seat towards Logan.

“Yeah,” Logan replied, “And since you’ll probably pick up the sorcery language really quickly, we can start as soon as we get there. I’d recommend you work with Patton more than me, though. I’m…”

“Blunt with little regard for emotions?” Roman offered, looking away from the window. In true theatrical fashion, they’d been pretending to be the main character in a fantasy novel, contemplating life as their surroundings rushed by.

“Yeah, basically,” Logan said, shrugging.

“Thanks Logan! I’ll do my best, but you’ll have to help me with understanding the books. Still can’t speak sorcery,” Patton said, smiling at Logan.

Logan blushed. “The language isn’t called sorcery, it’s called Eirsh. Why that is, I don’t know.”

“Guess I’ll hide then,” Roman said.

“You’ll be excellent moral support, Roman,” Logan said, “And we won’t be able to get into the castle without you. You’re not going to be completely useless.”

That night, they slept in the old seats of the train car, sometimes lying across one another just so that a leg or arm could be fully extended. After the strenuous events of the last few days, sleep was a welcome escape. That morning, Joan woke them up and got everyone out into a small town in the foothill. They somehow managed to find a kindly farmer who offered to take them along with him to Archdale. He was going to visit his wife and kids, and filled the empty silence on the way back with stories of his family.

Nonetheless, making the final leg back to Archdale was tense. Roman hid their face with a hat so that no one looking through the windows could see them, and Virgil couldn’t stop looking out the window for King’s Men or curious passerby. Logan and Patton quietly talked about teaching Virgil together, keeping their voices low so as not to make Virgil aware of their plans. After what seemed like an eternity, they arrived in Archdale

The farmer took them all to Joan’s house. Joan wished the group good luck on the rest of their adventures, then shooed the teenagers off to Logan’s place. Going on their suggestion to continue their quest at Food For The Mind, the group took advantage of the nearly deserted mid morning streets to take a quick walk over there. Virgil charged ahead of the rest of the group. There were 9 days left until the solstice, and she was going to make good use of every one.

Meanwhile, Logan thought out the logistics of staying at his bookstore. His parents were going to be back at the end of the week, which left Logan two days to figure out how to explain why he had to have three friends, none of which they’d met before, over at the bookstore for a week. He was not looking forward to that conversation, even though his plan was to tell the truth and leave it at that.

Logan tested his explanation on the two people who had been running Food For The mind in his absence. Dominic understood fairly well when he explained, and Elliot was fine with Virgil replacing them.

“I did some reading while I worked at the store. Our relationship was never what it should have been,” they said when Logan broke the news.

With that issue out of the way, the challenge at hand was running the bookstore while teaching one of its employees how to use her sorcery. Patton and Roman decided to shelve books whenever there weren’t customers, and Virgil would do her employee things whenever customers were present. Everyone was on board with the plan, and Logan managed to scrounge up enough blankets that everyone could sleep in the small apartment over the store with him. With only three people living there, it had seemed the perfect size, but the place was not meant to hold four teenagers. Logan dreaded trying to fit everyone in when his parents returned. Six people might be beyond the small loft’s capacity. But he was too tired to even think about that. That afternoon they didn’t do much more than unpack some things and kinda sorta run the bookstore. Logan closed the doors at 3.

Patton made everyone a simple dinner, and the whole group went to bed early. The trip, and the discoveries it had brought, were exhausting. Virgil was nervous about her sorcery and if it could help, Patton tried to think of nothing as he drifted off, Roman shoved aside worries of their father, and Logan went over the ethics of harboring a prince who was supposed to be in their castle. They slept.

Morning came too soon. All four set up the bookstore, then Logan went and sat at the counter and Roman, Virgil, and Patton grabbed all the books on sorcery they could find, went to the storage room, and got to work. Virgil understood Eirsh almost intuitively, and her books had a lot of information about how magic works. Roman and Patton found little, just a few paragraphs connecting magic to emotions. After going through four thick volumes and marking everything relevant, Virgil started attempting the spells described in the books.

At first, nothing much happened. Occasionally, a flicker of purple would come across Virgil’s hands, or a book would fall down. For hours, Virgil tried a simple levitation spell on a book to no avail. Patton and Roman advised Virgil as best they could, but they didn’t really know what they were doing.

“Uh, strong emotions trigger magic skills the best,” Patton said, “So maybe direct your feelings towards the book?”

Virgil obliged, concentrating on the book even more intently. She tried to focus everything she was feeling on the book while visualizing it floating an inch or two off the ground. It moved a little.

“Don’t channel all of your emotions,” Roman offered. “Since you’re a dark sorcerer, the emotions that turn on your sorcery are all negative. Fear, anger, jealousy, and guilt are listed here as being the best ones.”

This time, the book flew across the room, hit the wall, and stayed there. Virgil looked back at Roman. “Is that better?” The book fell to the ground.

“Maybe control those emotions a little better,” Roman said, “I think they got carried away from you there.”

For an hour, Virgil practiced moving the book. Her control increased, and she even managed to move it forwards and backwards a little. Patton cheered her on, and Roman pored over the books some more.

“Apparently there’s levels to sorcery, and you’re a never-ever, so according to this description you’re a level 2. ‘Few large-scale expressions of powers, just learning control of emotions and how they affect his/her sorcery.’ Sounds like you,” Roman said, turning the page of their book. “There should be little notations on the spells for what level the sorcerer has to be to do them.”

“Oh that’s not good,” Virgil said, “The little number next to the spell for destroying Solus stone is a 28. What’s the description for that?”

“‘20-30: Well-established control of powers, adept at creation spells and illusions. Dark sorcerers start to see their powers manifesting physically, and light sorcerers start to see physical changes such as an unusual radiance/glow from the skin.”

“There is no way I can get to that level in a week unless a miracle happens,” Virgil said, the book shooting up to the ceiling and leaving a dent before ricocheting and knocking Roman’s book out of their hands.

“I’m sure you can get there!” Patton said, “It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“Says the person who wasn’t struggling with levitating a book,” Virgil grumbled, “Speaking of which, what’s the next level up from this spell?” She made the book do a few loops and shoot all around the room without touching anything.

“Beats me, you’re the one who can read the books with spells in them,” Roman said.

“Oh.” Virgil walked over to her books and looked for a spell that wasn’t going to destroy any property, a surprisingly difficult task. “Unless I can set something on fire, there’s nothing here that’s really helpful. Everything is just breaking things or moving something else around, which I’m pretty sure I’m already good at.”

“Can you write something with a pen without touching it?” Patton asked. He’d been curious about it ever since Virgil had started moving the book around, just because it was a really cool concept.  

Hands outstretched, Virgil concentrated on the pen Roman held to take notes with. The pen shook slightly as it rotated vertically, then moved over to a blank sheet of paper. As it touched down on the paper, Virgil’s face became more flushed. In shaky writing, she wrote her name on the paper.

“Two inch letters. Could be worse,” Roman said.

“Roman! Be nice, it’s her first try,” Patton scolded. “Virgil, keep practicing that. According to Roman’s book”-he leaned over-“you have to fully master the spells of each level before you can go to the next one.”

Logan popped his head into the room. “Lunchtime, and thanks for all the help, Virgil. Patton, Roman, I need one of you out here this afternoon. There was a teacher who needed about four class sets of different books, and I can’t do all the restocking and shuffling on my own. Virgil, keep working on leveling up your sorcery, it’s the best thing you can do right now.” He left, and after some hesitation, Patton, Roman, and Virgil followed.

“How did you know about the levels?” Roman asked Logan as they ate lunch. Today, their lunch was everything left over from the trip since Logan’s parents had a strict no-junk-food policy, and they were going to be here tomorrow. Joan had refused to take any of the food, despite Roman and Patton’s many offers.

“I did a lot of research on sorcery with Patton when we were trying to learn about the Dragon Witch,” Logan said, taking another handful of potato chips, “What level are you, Virgil?”

“Two, and it’s not looking like I’ll level up very soon. It’s really difficult.”

“I’ll help you this afternoon, since I’ve got a good deal of background knowledge on the subject,” Logan offered. “Keep practicing, you’ll get it soon.”

They ate all the food Logan’s parents would definitely not allow except for a bag of candy that Patton wanted to give to the kids at the orphanage. That afternoon, Roman and Patton switched between helping Logan with stacking books and coaching Virgil. Virgil practiced her sorcery, and improved a lot by the time the store closed. She was almost ready for level 3 spells.

For a few hours after closing, all four worked on improving Virgil’s sorcerer abilities. With everyone’s encouragement, she improved rapidly. Level 3 was mostly a continuation of Level 2, but with the introduction of small transformation spells, changing colors and the like. Much to Patton’s delight, she could color his hair rainbow, although the spell did wear off. She practiced on her hair too, turning it pink and purple, then back to the usual brownish-blond.                                                                                                            

However, Logan’s parents were exactly the sort of people who could not stand coming home to a messy apartment. The four spent most of the evening cleaning the apartment above the bookstore and organizing the storage room since Virgil had made quite a mess there while practicing, and couldn’t control her powers enough to fix things with sorcery. They had a quick dinner and went to bed.

Logan half-expected to be woken up by his parents that morning, they were never ones to leave the duties of the bookstore to their son more than necessary. No, he knew they were home when he walked down to the bookstore with Virgil and Patton to take some books out of the storage room. Roman was still upstairs, eating their breakfast.

Both of Logan’s parents were sitting at the round reading table where Patton and Logan had researched the Dragon Witch.

“Hi Dad. Hi other Dad,” Logan said, “How was your trip?”

“Pretty good,” Corbin said, “We made some awesome deals with suppliers and met some other bookstore owners.”

“It was awesome! We went to the ocean every day and got you a lot of gifts. You’ll love them, although I may need to borrow some of the books every once in a while. And we made so many new friends, I may actually need to learn to cook so we can have dinner parties and stuff,” Sloane said.

Virgil entered the room. “Oh, are these your parents?” she asked Logan.

“Yep. That’s them.”

“Who’s this?” Corbin said, looking at Logan suggestively. “Did you get a-“

“-This is Virgil, she’s the employee Dominic and I hired so we could have extra help while you were gone.”

“I see,” Sloane said, looking at his husband. “You don’t think…”

“No. Absolutely not,” Logan said, starting to turn red.

Unfortunately for Logan, Patton entered the room just then.

“And who is this?” Sloane asked. “You can’t have possibly needed two employees while we were gone.”

“Dad, Pops, this is Patton Cahen. He’s here to help out some, yes, but also for a…project.” Logan was turning even redder.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Gaines and Mr. Gaines,” Patton said, extending a hand to shake.

“Oh, call me Sloane, and thank you for being so polite!” Sloane winked at Logan over Patton’s shoulder as they shook hands.

Corbin gave Sloane the look of “don’t torture our kid anymore.”

“Sorry about my parents, guys,” Logan said, fidgeting with his glasses. “They’re kind of embarrassing.”

“They’re alright,” Virgil said. Patton nodded in agreement.

Logan cleared his throat. “Patton, Virgil, could you leave me and my parents alone for a little bit? I have to explain some…things.”

Once the two had left the room, Corbin and Sloane’s expressions shifted to seriousness. “We know that you can’t have two people over for normal bookstore operations. What’s happening, Logan?” Corbin asked his son. “We do trust you, but there are certain limits, and I’m worried that you may have crossed some of those while your father and I were away.”

It was impossible for Logan to ignore the sense of being on trial. “There’s this…prophecy of sorts that Virgil knew about for some reason. She is an employee here, and on her first day here I showed her around and everything. At the end of the day, she left this letter with the spell on it, and a credible story about how that came about, and that she couldn’t help. I knew I had to do something about it, but there was going to be too much to sort through on my own. So I asked Patton-he comes in a lot during my shift-to help me, and he did. Little did I know that she also looked for help. I guess eventually she realized that she had to help too, so she somehow found the prince, Roman, and got hi-them to help as well. Her and the prince came up with a plan that was a hundred times better than what Patton and I had. We...ran into each other and carried out that plan they had, as a larger group. To stop the curse, we thought that a magical artifact could break the spellcaster out, so we travelled to a few places with Joan-he’s a friend of Thomas’s? You know, the travelling actor who came in one afternoon and had tea with you guys?”

“I remember him,” Sloane said, “Go on, I’m curious to see how you all got here.”

“Well, along the way we found out that Virgil’s a dark sorcerer, which was a surprise for her too. We didn’t find any magical artifacts, so we came back here and decided training her was the best course of action to break the curse. Now we’re all running the bookstore and learning more about sorcery. I didn’t touch your personal collections, though. You know what? I’m going to give you my file on the curse and sorcery so I don’t have to explain this whole thing to you.” Logan made a hasty exit.

“Do you think our son’s under some sort of magical influence?” Corbin asked Sloane.

“Yeah, there is no way he would normally do any of that. He’d rather observe that spell than go out and stop it,” Sloan replied. “Maybe he’s growing out of that, but it doesn’t seem likely. Especially not over two weeks.”

Logan re-entered. “Here.” He plunked the folder on the table, then disappeared into the apartment to warn Roman of his parents.

Roman was making their way through a bowl of oatmeal when Logan burst into the apartment. “My parents are here. You need to work some serious royal convincing skills to make them actually consider letting you stay here because they are not fans of just letting anyone stay here. The chores are brutal,” Logan said.

“Oh”-Roman yawned-“ok. I just woke up, but ok. I’ll go down there after I get dressed.”

“Alright,” Logan said, “Just hurry up. They’re probably going to be more mad the longer I wait to tell them that the missing prince is staying here.”

Fortunately for Logan, Roman’s princely charm worked amazingly on Sloane and Corbin. Before lunchtime, Corbin and Sloane were absolutely delighted with their new houseguest and excited to help the whole crew with their quest. Logan was unnerved.

“My parents like you more than they like me,”he told Roman when the dads left the room to get some books.

“What can I say, I’m likeable,”Roman said with a slight smile. They tapped their fingers on the table. It was not the first nervous tic of the prince’s that Logan had noticed.

Sloane and Corbin delegated the task of running the bookstore to Logan and Patton for the day. The couple supervised Virgil’s practicing sorcery while chatting with Roman. The books in their private collection were almost all sorcery-based, and they had a lot of background knowledge on the art of sorcery. Virgil flourished under their trainings, rising to level ten. Roman enjoyed talking to them, especially about politics. They understood their predicament, somehow, and helped them begin to formulate a plan about overthrowing his father if the incantation was stopped.

Every day, Virgil’s sorcery abilities improved infinitesimally. Well, actually they improved exponentially, but I had to roast Logan at least once here. Under the mentorship of Logan’s dads, she expanded her power so much that it was hard to believe the things she could accomplish.

Roman was proud of her. From just reading the books on sorcery, they knew that it was extremely difficult. Virgil progressing like this was a product of her hard work and dedication, quite a change from the girl who was so afraid of doing something about the prophecy that she handed a note to a stranger.  

But as they thought about Virgil’s progression through the levels, Roman had the sinking feeling that, no matter how hard Virgil worked, she was not going to be at the level she needed to be by the end of this week. And under pressure, they had no idea how she’d do. Knowing Virgil’s tendency to think the worst, and overthink it, she would probably do worse with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

That meant that the kingdom needed a backup plan. Roman knew that with their power and status, there was no one better to put in as a backup. But, oh, the stakes! They would have to give so much up-was it even worth it?

Yes. Yes. For the kingdom, for their friends. There was no other way. Roman took the red scarf out of their bag and put it around their neck. What better way to continue his mother’s legacy than sacrifice?

It didn’t take long to write down a few things on a stray piece of paper, to remember just in case. Then, they went back to alphabetizing the new fiction books.

Virgil burst through the door to the back room, startling Roman. “So, I went to my house early this morning to look for some...stuff and I found that there was a backside to the prophecy. Basically, this”-she gestured at the general area-“was all prophesied.” She waved a scribbled-on receipt in their face. Roman read it.

“So this was all predicted. The four of us. Interesting, but makes sense. I haven’t felt particularly in control of my actions during this journey,” Roman said, “Have you...felt like that at all?”

“Yeah, some. It was weird how quickly I switched from not wanting anything to do with the prophecy to throwing my all into stopping it. Also, Logan doesn’t seem like quite the type for this. He’s too absorbed in his books. Patton, maybe. But even so, with how much he loves the kids at the orphanage, it doesn’t make sense that he left them at the drop of a hat,” Virgil said. “Maybe we’ll actually stop the prophecy. I need to tell Patton!”

She left the room, and Roman went back to sorting. Yes, they would stop the prophecy. Roman was sure of that much.

TAGS: @fanficptsd get added

[pickapok]

Love Bugs: A Breath of the Wild Fanfic

Prima sighed as the sun sank low enough for its rays to pass through the western window, striking her face. It was only ever maybe thirty minutes to an hour out of the day, but she always ended up with a headache when the beams hit her eyes. She’d been asking for Leop to invest in curtains for some time now, but Inns didn’t see a lot of business these days.

“We cater to the very brave and the very foolish,” Leop would tell her. “We provide beds to those who are brave enough to travel the roads as well as any foolish enough to pay double for an extra pillow.” Prima suspected half the reason he had hired her was because a pretty face rented more beds than a crotchety old man.

Still though, the job was not without its perks. Squinting against the sunlight, she glanced out the window towards the stables where he stood as usual. Wavy brown hair curled down around his ears as a light breeze tussled it gently. He wore a white shirt under tan overalls, standing with his back to a post as he eyed every person who passed by the Inn. His name was Manny.

As far as she could tell he was keeping watch for trouble, not that there was ever much trouble in Hateno. The narrow paths leading up to the village were carefully watched and the few people in town who knew how to wield a blade were enough to keep the occasional bokoblin at bay. Many suspected that the bigger beasts shied away from the village because of the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab up the hill, but nobody knew for sure what went on up there.

Prima longed to be able to simply go out and talk with the man. Unfortunately, she was as good as rooted to her post. Leop could only afford one employee and she was it, Goddess forbid the man himself ever take a turn behind the counter. The only thing keeping Prima on her feet was the carrot stew Uma brought her each day. One sip of that and she could practically feel the fatigue drain down through her body and out her toes.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the sun finally slipped behind the Dueling Peaks, taking a swallow of stew broth from the thermos she kept under the counter. Glancing out the window, Prima expected to see Manny take leave from his post and head home for the night. Honestly, she almost envied him for being allowed the luxury of a good night’s sleep. What she was surprised to see was that Manny was talking to somebody.

The boy was shorter than most people in town. He wore a standard tunic, in the style that was sold locally here in town, and was equipped with a sword, shield and bow all strapped to his back. It was adventurers like him that allowed Inns like Ton Pu to exist in the first place. This adventurer’s unkempt blond hair was pulled back in a short tail while a pair of locks fell down across the front of his ears. It was a very distinctive style, one that Prima recognized instantly.

“Good,” she muttered to herself. “Maybe he can talk some sense into him.” Her mind replayed the interaction she and the boy-adventurer had a few days ago. Prima had seen him at least a half dozen times before and even the first time they’d met she’d thought he was a little off. For starters he didn’t talk much. Rarely said anything more than what was necessary. He’d rented a bed a few times, even paid for the extra pillow at least once. Later she found out he had purchased a house in town. Why, then, did he bother renting a bed at all? It just didn’t make sense.

Of course, this was all before his most recent visit. Two days ago he came into the Inn and, for whatever reason, stepped behind the counter and approached her. Nervously, she asked if he needed something.

“What do you like?”

Prima was flabbergasted. Here was this boy, who had to be sixteen years old at the most,  that she had only met all of five or six times before and he was asking her what she liked. Her thoughts raced. She didn’t know him and she was damn sure he didn’t know a thing about her. Why the hell should she have to tell him anything? Especially something so personal? The best she could do was toss out something at random. Maybe it would make him go away.

“I’ll tell you something I really like,” she said. “Crickets. It’s my very own dream to have a collection of one hundred restless crickets.” There, she thought. Maybe THAT will scare him off!

The boy pondered a moment than nodded, leaving the Inn.

“If Manny is having a talk with him, I shouldn’t have to worry anymore,” Prima thought aloud. Pleased she wouldn’t have to put up with that kid anymore, she settled down in spot for the night, ready to serve any rare customers that happened to walk in.

 ---

 The sun was just beginning to rise when the door to the Inn swung open. Prima roused herself from her thoughts and stood stunned as Manny stood silhouetted against the early morning light.

“W-welcome to the Ton Pu Inn,” she stammered. “A regular bed is 20 rupees. O-or if you prefer…”

Manny withdrew a hand from behind his back and set a small box down on the counter. “Uh… I’ve been checking y-I MEAN. Th-these are for you.”

Prima felt the blood rush to her cheeks as her face flushed. She looked down at the simple box before her. A faint chirp sounded somewhere. “Um. Thanks. I appreciate it, Manny.”

At the mention of his name, Manny straightened up and coughed, failing to conceal a blush of his own. “I tried to find something you’d like. Please enjoy.”

Struggling to breathe evenly, Prima laid a tentative hand on top of the box. Finally she took a deep breath and opened the lid.

Prima screamed.

A hundred green blurs leapt from the box, spreading across the counter and hopping across the floor. Prima began swatting frantically at those that landed on her blouse.

“What in Calamity’s name?!” Her foot came down on another of the crickets as it tried to flee. “What is the meaning of this??

Manny stood in front of the counter, stunned. “But I thought…”

“You better help me round them up!” Prima shouted. “I swear to god if even one of them ends up in the kitchen’s food stores…”

Snapping out of his stupor, Manny ran into the kitchen and grabbed a broom. Standing at the threshold, he bat at and swept away any of the insects that drew too close. With him on one side of the room and Prima on the other, the crickets had nowhere left to flee. After at least an hour of swatting, squashing and sweeping the infestation had finally been dealt with.

Panting, Prima marched out from behind the counter for the first time in years and jabbed her finger straight into Manny’s chest. “What in Naydra’s name were you thinking, bringing those… things in hee?”

“I…”

“What if he had guests?” she continued. “Don’t you think they’d have been woken up by all this commotion?”

Manny looked sheepishly down at his feet. “But you said you liked them. That it was your dream.”

“What are you talking about? Why would I ever say…” Prima trailed off, a memory flashing through her mind. Unkempt blond hair, pulled into a short tail. Blue eyes and a mouth that only said what needed to be said, except for once. “He was asking for YOU?!”

Shuffling his feet, Manny nodded. His shoulders slumped as he mumbled an apology. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to get you something nice, something you’d really like.

Prima took several deep breaths, reigning her emotions back in. Isn’t this what she wanted? The chance to talk with the man she had been gazing at so longingly for months? Seeing the look in his eyes, Prima realized how much courage it had taken for him just to walk through that door. For all intents and purposes it seemed that he felt the same for her as she did for him. Sighing, she placed her hands on his shoulders and looked straight into his eyes.

“Look, I appreciate the thought,” she began. “I really do. But if you really want to give this a shot, then you have to make me a promise. No more weird stuff, okay?”

Manny matched her eyes, a realization dawning on him. “Okay…”

“And if you want to know something, anything about me… all you have to do is ask.”

A grin spread across Manny’s face. “Alright. Uh…” He glanced down again, sheepishly. “Do you like dinner?”

Prima fought back a laugh at the way he worded the question. “Yeah, I like dinner.”

“Great, what time are you off?”

She opened her mouth to say she worked around the clock but stopped herself. A thought formed in her head and she grinned mischievously. “You know what? I can be off around six. To Calamity with Leop, he can run the Inn for a couple hours while we eat.”

“I’ll see you then.” Manny bowed as he walked backwards from the Inn, narrowly avoiding tripping down the stairs.

Prima nodded, feelings of joy welling up inside her. It was a solid twelve hours until their date but she’d been working a year straight as it was. Another half a day wouldn’t kill her.

Settling back into her place behind the counter, Prima hummed a love song to herself. It was something she had heard once years back from a wandering Rito minstrel that had paid Hateno a visit. She couldn’t remember all of the words but the tune had never left her mind.

Somewhere in the Inn, a cricket chirped.

 The End

fanfiction.net link

[realrhythmskrp]

DISPATCH, (05/03/17): Kaleidoscope Records has officially released information about stylist, Moon Hyeji, on the staff’s official website! Moon Hyeji is a ‘92 liner and has been beloved by fans since she earned her job. Find out more about Hyeji below!

I, MOON HYEJI, have read and understand the terms and conditions as my position of STYLIST and agree to honor the standards that are to be expected of me as an employee of KALEIDOSCOPE RECORDS.

OOC INFORMATION

Preferred name: Chloe

Pronouns: She/her

Timezone: PST

Other muses: n/a

IC INFORMATION

Faceclaim: Pony (Park Hyemin)

Name: Moon Hyeji

Stage name (if applicable): n/a

Idol concept: Hyeji is Kaleidoscope Records’ resident stylist unnie/noona. Despite her young age, her open, mother-like nature makes her the one to go to for advice whether it be for personal life or what outfit to wear. Although she has tried to stay on the down-low as a staff member, she has already been spotted by several Kaleidoscope fans for her looks and style that don’t lose to her idol clients. Why don’t you try and be an idol or actress?, Hyeji’s small fanclub asks. Many people question why she doesn’t try to get in the business since she’s at the prime age for an idol career, but what many don’t know is that she is in fact an ex-idol. Either way, Hyeji feels just fine being behind the scenes.

Birth date and age: December 30, 1992 / 24 years old

Company name: Kaleidoscope Records

Group Name (if applicable): n/a

Group Position (if applicable): Staff member (stylist)

Strengths: (+) Flexible and talented. As a stylist, Hyeji can do hair, makeup, and fashion. Graduating as one of the top students of the cosmetology school she attended, she is more than capable to work with hair and makeup. Among the number of employees at Kaleidoscope Records, Hyeji is known to be one of the top stylists in the company despite only working there for 2 years so far. With just one look at a person, she can decide what colors/looks are most suitable for that person, bringing out their inner beauty and charisma. She has also previously lived in Japan, and despite the short time she gained an incredible amount of fashion knowledge and inspiration. She incorporates what she has learned as well as her own personal Hyeji flair into the looks she creates for her idol clients. (+) Approachable. Hyeji may come off as strong and intimidating at first sight due to her resting bitch face and flashy looks, but she greets everyone with a smile. She is ready to assist anyone who asks for help, and offers it when she sees people struggling. For this reason, she is even friends with some Kaleidoscope trainees as well as some idols from other companies due to interactions in the waiting rooms. (+) Perseverance. Whether it be in her work or in personal life, Hyeji will never give up until she has done all that she can. Even if you tell her she can’t, she will insist that she can and prove you wrong. Though this has sometimes gotten her in a bit of trouble with the senior stylists, her perseverance has always resulted in some of her best work.

Weaknesses: (-) Indecisiveness. It is easy for Hyeji to make decisions when it comes to her career as a stylist for idols. However, the same quality does not seem to quite transfer over to Hyeji’s personal life. It is difficult for her to make her own decisions on some of the simplest things, resulting in her close friends being quite frustrated with her when she texts them randomly for help choosing between this or that. (-) Perfectionist. Hyeji always wants to help people as much as possible, and with this comes her desire to give the best to her clients. Because she spends so much time trying to perfect her ideas for her clients’ looks, this sometimes results in too much work piled up for her. However, this perfectionism does result in some of the best styles for her clients.

Positive traits: compassionate, dedicated, enthusiastic

Negative traits: critical, indecisive, perfectionist

PERSONAL HISTORY

Age 1. To celebrate Hyeji’s first birthday, her parents set up the table for Doljabi. In this Korean tradition, parents put various objects on a table that reflect the child’s life in the future. Her parents put up the traditional items of string, calligraphy brush, money, and more. However, when the time came, Hyeji did not choose any of the objects on the table. She took a tuft of her father’s hair with her left hand, and a loose strand of her mother’s hair with her right hand. Before the two could understand what was going on– Yank. With her two small hands, she pulled down on her parents’ hair. There was a moment of silence, before her grandma laughed heartily. “Looks like she’s destined to take over the family salon,” she said with a smile.

Age 14. Starting from middle school, Hyeji had begun to help out at her family’s salon whenever she had free time. She wasn’t forced to do it at all—in fact, she really enjoyed her work. She was able to balance this “part-time work” with her schoolwork, maintaining her place in the top 15 students in her class. Though she was young, she often had long conversations with the customers as she did her thing—the elders loved her the most. “Hyeji-ah, you really have a talent. When you’re older, you can catapult this small family business into a salon chain!” many customers have said. Her parents were extremely proud of her, and thus began their goal of having Hyeji take over the family business.

Age 16. Hyeji was just working as usual in the salon when her customer gave her a card. Before she could ask what it was for, the customer had already paid and left. She looked down at it—“XXX COMPANY, Talent Agency Scout.” At the bottom of the card was a scribbled note, “We are planning to debut a girl group within the next few years. Please attend our audition.” She was utterly confused, but mostly in disbelief. Her? An idol? She wasn’t sure if she could do it, but in that moment she thought that she really wanted to do this. She was young and had no idea what she was doing. But her parents still accepted this, not wanting to restrict her. After all, what were the odds that their Hyeji would really make it as an idol?

Age 18. After that one fateful day 2 years ago, Hyeji was now about to debut in the girl group XXX after 2 years of training. She was excited, but scared at the same time. Was this all worth it? Would her hard work pay off? She took a deep breath as she, along with the 5 other girls, stood backstage on stand-by. It was their time to shine.

Age 19. Hyeji opened what seemed to be her third bag of potato chips as she sat on the beat-down couch that stood at the center of the small dorm’s living room. If she had become so famous, why would she have enough free time to binge eat junk food? Well, the truth is, she wasn’t famous at all. In their debut year of 2012, almost 40 girl groups made their debut. Of this large number, only a handful managed to make it out alive and succeed. Hyeji’s group was not one of them. She was now out of work and had no recognition. She resorted to eating her troubles away.

After the company finally got enough money, Hyeji’s group made their comeback to an unwelcoming audience. The comeback was low-budget, and they were unable to get their name up there. The only publicity they ever got was when they were ridiculed by netizens on the Internet for their lack of success. Even so, they were at such an epitome of “nugu” status that they didn’t even have that many antis. Among the bad things said on the Internet were hate comments directed towards Hyeji’s “drastic” weight gain. Though it was not much due to her metabolism, her stress-eating resulted in her gaining an obvious amount of weight. “Someone with that body can be an idol? Her legs are so stocky, she must have used all her free time before the comeback to eat!” a comment said. Hyeji didn’t dare to read any of the online forums. After just a little over a year of activities, with only 2 singles to their name, Hyeji’s group and the company itself dissolved. From debut to their disbandment, their songs never even reached the top 500.

Age 20. Hyeji was now well-situated back at home, and it was easy to adjust back to her “normal” life. Now free from the stress of the idol life, she worked on losing weight and changing herself through diet and exercise alone, never resorting to surgery. She wanted to do something for herself, to be successful at something. After her group’s disbandment, Hyeji used part of her savings to fly to Tokyo, Japan. She had decided to stay there for 6 months on a whim, gaining an interest in fashion as she walked the roads of Harajuku and Shibuya. She had been too scared to face her parents after her failed career as an idol, instead using Japan as her safe place to live freely by herself as she waited for the right time. When she came back, she was a whole new person. She exuberated confidence, and it was evident by her flashy wardrobe and colorful hair. She was now working at her family’s salon again, just like old times, and she was welcomed back with open arms by the regular customers. “Hyeji-ah, have you ever thought of pursuing a career in cosmetology? My daughter is currently enrolled at a cosmetology school, it’s the top beauty school in Seoul and I think you would do well!” one of the customers had suggested. Why hadn’t she thought of this as a Plan B? She already had the basic skills and talent to work in a field of cosmetology, but she hadn’t thought about it after being preoccupied by the memories of her past idol career. From then on, she enrolled in XXX Cosmetology School and began her studies.

Age 22. Being one of the top students of the school, Hyeji graduated with recognition and support from her fellow classmates. She was the role model of her underclassmen, and she felt truly happy with her chosen path. She was able to get work right after graduating, but despite many love calls was unable to decide on what to do from then on. That was when one of her friends, currently working as a stylist at a idol company, suggested that she put Hyeji’s name in as a suggestion to her boss. At first Hyeji was hesitant due to her past experience in the entertainment industry, but then it clicked. She decided that she wanted to try this out, to help people who were going through the exact same process she had gone through years before. She wanted to make them beautiful, to give them the confidence they needed to make it big and shine out there. What better place to do this than in the place where she has failed before? She still had regrets from those experiences, and she was never given the chance to redeem herself in the entertainment field. She wanted to start over.

And so began Hyeji’s career as a stylist at Kaleidoscope Records…

[gaymirajane]

Hot Chocolate (Gray x Lucy / Juvia x Cana)

Gray spends time at Magnolia coffee house so that he can see his oldest friend, Cana. He doesn’t expect to fall for a new employee as quickly as he does. 

Ship(s)- Gray x Lucy / Juvia x Cana

Words- 2,933

Rating- General Audience

For- @lockandk3yfiction (I’m sorry this is, like, a month late, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!)

Gray was the first person to admit that he was not a morning person. He hated getting up before eight in the morning, and was convinced that the concept of 5 A.M. was a myth intended to scare young children, not something he would ever experience for himself. He felt blessed though that his oldest friend Cana had managed to become a barista at a coffee shop in town; he hated the mornings, but with a litre of caffeine sliding through his veins and a jovial chat with a good friend... not even Gray could stay agitated under those circumstances.

Wednesdays were his earliest start. The lecture he had began at eight-thirty, so he often woke up at seven. Not diabolical, but also not the ideal. Gray sighed as the small bronze bell announced his arrival, pulling his rucksack higher onto his shoulder and hoping that he had everything he needed for the day ahead. Glancing up, Gray searched idly for the bright laughter that Cana was often emitting, but instead he was met with nothing but a murmur of voices. He could not see Cana cleaning tables and flirting with customers, or slipping herself a whisky shot as she made drinks behind the counter. Instead, Gray could only see Mirajane- the manager of Magnolia coffee shop, but not usually working on a Wednesday- and another person that Gray did not recognise.

She was beautiful. There wasn't really another word Gray could use, because everything else fell too short. Her eyes were wide and curious, her lips peeled back in an interested smile as she watched Mirajane work the machines, small fingers tucking unruly blonde curls behind her pink-tinted ears. It wasn't like in literature, where female beauty can be described as 'understated' or 'adorable'. Although she was both of these things as well, this woman was positively ethereal, one of the most stunning people Gray had ever seen. He felt the affects of that fact instantly in the way that his neck flushed red and his heart beat became unsteady. Quickly, Gray scanned her body, ignoring the valleys and crevices that her curvaceous figure offered and focused on finding her name instead. She wore an apron, but no name tag, which meant that it had not been printed yet.

She must be really new, Gray thought to himself, suddenly divided over what he should do next. On one hand, he was far too tired and startled by this new arrival to form a coherent sentence towards her, but on the other hand... Gray really needed a coffee. Deciding that his own first impression was more important than betraying his favourite coffee house, Gray left the door he had just come through, deciding instead to buy his morning necessity from a shop on campus. It was run by an irritable student called Gajeel. There would be no surprises waiting for him there. It was his safest option. Before he had even left the door, Gray pulled his phone to hand, getting up Cana's contact and typing out a simple message.

Fancy meeting for lunch today?

~'*'~

Cana was sat in one of the booths furthest away from the counter, scrolling through her phone and sipping coffee from a white ceramic cup. It was almost two in the afternoon, and the shop had finished its lunchtime rush. Cana was on her first break; whenever she had  day without classes, she opted to work the full day. Her crippling student debts weren't going to pay themselves, after all. When Gray pulled up a stool opposite to her, she did not glance up.

“Are you just working the till today?” He asks, noticing her lack of apron. She smiles at him, stretching her arms languidly over her head, back arched and yawning.

“Mira is training up the new girl so she can use the machines. I offered to do it, but…” She shrugs, not bothering to give an excuse as to why she was unsuitable for the job.

“But you would spend the whole day sneaking in whiskey shots meant for drinks and staring at the new girl’s backside?” Gray raises his eyebrow, crossing his arms and staring at Cana in something that falls  just short of judgement.

She laughs devilishly, taking a slow slurp of her drink. “O Ye of Little Faith! I’ll have you know that I have been nothing if not gentlemanly towards her.” Feigning offence, Cana raises her hand to her chest and clutched at the material that gathered there.

“There’s a surprise; I was sure that she’s your type.”

“She’s your type as well.” Cana points out, locking her phone and finishing her drink. Silently, Gray nods. “Besides, I’m working on someone else at the minute.” Cana smirks mysteriously, leaning forward and cupping her mouth as if she were going to reveal a great secret. Gray rolls his eyes; it was obvious who was the drama student between them. She had been this way since she was little, and it had grated on his nerves more than once over the years. Despite that, she was a good friend, and he was used to her eccentric behaviour. It made him more fond of her, in a twisted sense, and he struggled to imagine what she would be like without it. Gray mirrors her movement, making a display of freeing his ear from hair so that she could whisper to him.

“Do you see that blue-haired sort over there?” Cana indicates subtly to a girl sat by herself, azure hair falling in front of her face, obstructing her vision which was so ardently focused on the textbook in front of her.

Gray blinks once, twice, thrice, before letting out a choked-off gurgle, low in his throat. Coincidence was a cruel and fickle mistress, one that Gray had befallen more than once in his short eighteen years. This was too much though, too cruel.

“Juvia?!”

“You know her.” Cana states gravely, already discerning from Gray’s reaction what the nature of their relationship had been. Gray flinches at that, knowing that his reputation with both men and women alike truly preceded him. He had hoped that that life was finally behind him, but he had never really been one for wishful thinking.

Blushing, Gray hums softly. “We dated briefly at the end of secondary school, whilst you were away on holiday with your dad… it didn’t end well.” He grimaces at the memory alone.

Cana rubs her temple slowly, and Gray recognises the crestfallen look of self-destruction and defeat before she even speaks. It was an endless cycle that she forced herself through, a tempest of melancholy and anxiety that constantly prevented her from reaching everything she wanted in life. It saddened Gray to see her this way, and decided then that he would help her get the girl of her dreams.

“Of course it did.” She sighs, and her entire body deflates with the force of it.

“You definitely have a chance with her,” Gray starts hurriedly. “She’s bi, and you’re her type. She also likes to spend time around people before she approaches them, so the fact that she comes in here enough for you to notice her is promising.”

She smiles at his obvious attempt to raise her spirits, and the flash of innocent sincerity in her hickory coloured eyes serves as a reminder for Gray as to why they have remained friends for so long. It vanishes by the time she stands, stretching herself out again.

“I have to get back to work.” Cana rests her hand on Gray’s shoulder as she passes. He can’t decide whether it’s in sympathy or understanding. Either way, it doesn’t feel genuine. “Her name is Lucy, by the way. Talk to her; she won’t bite… although you would probably prefer it if she did.”

Cana struts away with melodic laughter trailing sinfully behind her, not bothering to wait and witness the scarlet flush of Gray’s skin and the incoherent way he babbles protest after protest. It was a scene that she is reasonably familiar with, anyway.

There was a headache blossoming just on the edge of Gray’s mind, and he tries his best to ignore it. He knows from experience how insufferable Cana can be with her teasing, and can't quite decide if he could go through that just to see an attractive woman. It probably wasn’t worth it, after all.

As Gray grabs his bag and coffee to go, he convinces himself to avoid Magnolia coffee shop until Cana stops being… well, Cana. It wasn’t as though he needed coffee, anyway, was his justification. There were plenty of other shops and coffee houses in the city. Avoiding this one would be easy. That was what he hoped, anyway.

~'*'~

Gray went back every day. It was not a decision that he made consciously, but his eyes are just blinking open fully for the first time in the day and they meet Cana’s, wide and laughing. Mocking him, because she knew by the startled look on his face that he did not want to be there. Or that he did, far more than he should considering it is only a coffee shop.

The blonde girl- Lucy, Cana had called her- continues her training every day. Gray tries not to notice his disappointment at only getting to see her in stolen glances, and instead focuses his attention on not wringing Cana’s neck every time she serves him. He only barely manages it, and instead throws her teasing tone back at her.

“How’s Juvia?” He asks flatly.

Cana, although seemingly thrown for a second, is soon on her stride again, pulling a lever and pouring steaming coffee into a mug.

“She’s good. Great, actually; she’s taking me to dinner tonight.” She says it so calmly that Gray almost doesn’t notice the way that her fingers shake around the cup. He decides not to comment.

“So you finally made your move then?”

She clicks her tongue at him, grinning. “You’re one to talk… you do know that staring at a girl doesn’t constitute as interacting with her, right?” A teasing tone, as per usual, makes Gray flush darkly.

Before Gray can react with words, a short young woman with blue hair interrupts, and Gray moves out of her way so she can order. Cana switches quickly into her customer-friendly mode, and Gray chuckles to himself about her utter change of character. When the girl is content with her drink and money had been exchanged, Gray moves back against the counter and watches as Cana begins to clean the machines.

“Don’t turn this around on me, Cana Moonbeam Alberona.”

Gray would have to thank Gildarts one day that he was talked into giving Cana such an ‘embarrassing’ middle-name (Cana’s words. Frankly, Gray loved it).

A pale cloth, frayed at the edges and drenched in soap and coffee, was suddenly hitting him around the head, and he bats it away idly.

“You promised never to mention that!” Cana hisses, cheeks flaring. Gray tilts his head back, resting his hand on his chin and scrunching his forehead in thought.

“Nope, don't think I did.”

“Bastard!”

“You probably shouldn't use that language around customers, Cana.”

Lucy appears from the back-room wiping her hands and grinning timidly. Gray jumps at her lyrical tone, eyes darting incredulously to Cana. He was sure that she wouldn't be working until midday, so how could she possibly be here this early in the morning?

Cana's eyes narrow, a smirk playing the edge of her features. A chill ran through Gray, and before he could stop his friend from doing something problematic, she flopa dramatically against the blonde.

“Oh, it's just terrible, Lu-cy-chan!” Each syllable was a deliberate stab at Gray's resolve. His teeth clamp down so hard, his jaw aches from the force. “I'm not feeling too good, so it is with a heavy heart that I will have to take a short break in the back until I am feeling of sorts again. Please serve this lovely gentleman in my steed, Lucy!”

With one last, laughing glance at Gray, Cana billows into the next room, like a storm passing. Although the destruction she left in her wake was clear as Lucy turns to greet him awkwardly.

“Lucy-chan?” She ponders.

“Her old man is half-Japanese.” Gray sighs, surprised that Cana hadn't mentioned her heritage in the first week of knowing the girl.

“Right...” Lucy trails off softly, warily, casting her eyes back to the door to the back room which had just shut on its on accord. With a resigned huff of breath, Lucy picks up a pen from the counter and addresses Gray once again.

“So, what can I get you?”

There was no way for Gray to describe what floods his system in that moment, when Lucy's chocolate eyes were focused on him, a tentative smile offered to him in a polite, social manner. Even if she treats every customer this way, even if he was just the eightieth person she had spoken to in that day, smiled at this week, even so; Gray was wrecked. Well and truly, and his response was instinctual.

“I’ll take a toffee apple frappe, please.” He squints over the menu, pretending to read the names of drinks that did not appeal to him.

Lucy shifts slightly, smile wavering. “Unfortunately we don’t offer that here, sir.”

Instead of 'fight or flight', his brain seemed to work only on 'flight or idiocy' responses. Seeing as he was struggling to breath, let alone leave the shop, the outcome of this exchange became seemingly inevitable.

“Well I guess I’ll just take your number instead then.”

Well done, Gray. You’re clearly a regular Casanova. How do the ladies resist you.

She laughs shyly, a constellation of pink shining under the pale moonlight of her skin. She was beautiful, and men must say these things to her all of the time. He was just a drop in the ocean, a pebble on a beach filled with opportunities and happiness that Lucy could no doubt choose from. Even if she thumbed him gently, contemplatively, just to throw him back into the sea, he would accept that. He would accept anything she chose to give me. He did not deserve any of it, anyway.

“I can offer you a 'bonfire hot-chocolate', which is apple syrup and toffee chunks in a hot chocolate?” Her gaze was averted, lips pulled into a straight, unassuming line.

Of course. Gray was stupid, but he wasn't a fool. He felt the waters of disappointment lap at his feet, pulling him under. Anticipating this outcome didn't make it any easier, and Gray wanted to leave this shop as soon as he could.

“That will be fine.” He says flatly, defeatedly, and yet with the most understanding smile he can muster. “To go.” Gray adds after a second.

Lucy nods, ducks behind the machines swiftly, eyes focused on the task in front of and nothing else. Gray bolts. There's a spare table  near the counter and he claims it. As soon as his body slumps into the stiff embrace of the stall, his head hits his hand, breath shuddering out of him, torn from his lungs in utter frustration and mortification. He had been rejected before- what young person hadn't?- but somehow this one hurt him the most. Or rather, this pain was still fresh, raw, and he had not yet had time to process it. To come to terms with it.

“Bonfire hot-chocolate to go!” Lucy's voice raises to just above normal volume, knowing that Gray can hear her from the small distance between them.

The scrape of the chair is loud and vile, and sits uneasily in the silence that follows. Gray grabs the drink that he does not want and nods his gratitude at the girl who served him, slipping a note onto the counter and not bothering to collect any change. He does not need to search her face to know that she is not looking at his; she must be just as embarrassed from rejecting as he was from rejection.

Gray is already at the door when he realises.

The not-quite-paper of the cup is too hot in his palm, and he switches it to the other hand, grip shifting along the cup. That's when he sees it, black splotches written in shaky Biro. Eleven digits, the tell-tale sign of a mobile phone number. Underneath it is simply 'Lucy :) x'. Everything is wonky, no doubt from the awkward angle it was written at, but the writing itself was beautiful. Or maybe that was just Lucy, or the Goddess and Gods who aligned the stars in such a way that allowed this ethereal woman to give him a chance. Either way, Gray didn't care. It didn't matter, not any more.

Being careful of his hot drink, Gray whips around to stare, wide-eyed, at Lucy. Cana, who is apparently feeling much better in herself, has her arm draped casually over Lucy's shoulder, and Lucy is hiding quite obviously behind the withered rag Cana had used to hit Gray with.  She gives him a thumbs up, and Gray flushes anew, rushing from the store, grateful for the wall of cold hair that engulfs him as it promises to calm the redness of his cheeks and the erratic way his heart beat at the mere thought of wavy blonde hair and large, doe-like eyes.