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camdentown-library · 4 years ago

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The flames in your eyes || ENG ver. Ethan Torchio x reader

❝ 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬. 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚.

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠. ❞

Genre: Fluff ;; romantic ;; slowburn

Pairing: Ethan Torchio x fem!reader

Warning: English is not my native language, I may have made grammatical errors. do not hesitate to correct me

N / A: The facts told are purely the fruit of my imagination, it is not my intention to do any wrong to any person mentioned, and above all the character of Ethan could (surely) not reflect the person in reality.

Happy reading to you all!

CHAPTER 1

The first rays of July had cast on the roofs of the houses in Rome, giving the off-white plaster and rosy tiles a golden sheen that tasted like honey. The wisteria were in bloom, as was the medlar tree under Marlena's house; the scent of life in the full act of her cycle, always knocked on her dining room window, filling it with sweet fragrances.

The girl used to take her place at the table during the late morning hours, surrounded by books and tomes quite old and gnawed by the dust, with the good resolution that even that day she would read and study those very boring pages of that equally boring examination. of Egyptology. The university summer session had already begun, she had just taken a couple of exams last June and was now preparing two more that she would take in the first weeks of September.

That time could seem apparently short, Marlena didn't care that much, what could ever distract her from her work? She had no friends, and by now, even though she had crossed the threshold of 21 years in the autumn, the girl was now completely extinct her naive youth, as well as her desire to laze.

The out of tune and unexpected sound of the intercom triggered her head bent over the books of the young woman, who after having heaved a sigh perhaps a little annoyed, she decided to get up from her chair, leave the dining room and cross the wide and not too long corridor in the shape of an "L" of his apartment, finally arriving at a brisk pace towards the device it had croaked in order to answer.

"Yes?" she asked quite firmly but not too cordially.

"I'm the postman, will you open me?" answered a stranger, as she pushed the button to open the gate.

Marlena therefore opened the heavy old door of her house, remaining patient to wait for the man to arrive at the door. Although she had lived in that condominium with her father for as long as she remembered it, she had not yet found a rational explanation for its lack of mailboxes. Was it because it was a palace built in the 1920s? Well that would explain the absence of an elevator as well, but a damn mailbox wouldn't be hard to add.

The man's gasping breath brought her back to reality as her eyes saw him peeking from the flight of stairs. Was he already that tired after not even crossing the second floor? The young woman wondered a little disappointed.

"Are you Madam Levavi?" the postman then asked, catching his breath and rummaging through her purse. Marlena wrinkled her nose instinctively.

"Ahm ... not madam, I'm her daughter" she replied shaking her head, what could that postman ever care if she was "miss" or "madam"? The girl lightly bit the inside of her cheek as a reproach.

"Here you are. How many floors are there still?" She asked the man wiping her sweaty forehead with a handkerchief after giving her the mail.

"Two more ..." Marlena replied disinterestedly as she closed the door, observing her letters.

Bills for electricity, water, the tax to be paid for the next university year and ... a letter?

Well, it certainly wasn't sent by her father...

The girl looked at the text of that letter once more, rereading it and rereading it several times, wrapped in a silence that was probably inherent in memories that clouded her common sense, while slowly after taking a few steps back, she gently placed her back to the wall.

"Dear Marlena,

I know perfectly well that it might have been easier to call you, but you know I've always enjoyed writing you letters.

Unfortunately I noticed that in the last few I sent you you didn't answer, I guess it's because the university keeps you very busy ...

However, I learned that your father is out of Italy on a business trip and he will be away until the end of August; It seemed only right to invite you to spend these last months of summer in our house outside the city.

I know that since your mom left, you haven't had the desire to visit us anymore, but I think it would do you good to change the air for a while. The place is quiet, there is the sea and also a large and extensive countryside with a pine forest and the locals are really friendly and helpful.

You can also bring Lapo if you want, I know you are very close.

Either way, let me know your verdict.

A strong hug.

Grandmother Agata.”

She had distant memories of that house, distant but still happy. He remembered when he woke up early in the morning with grandmother Agata and grandfather Laertes to be able to go to the sea and his little hands while looking for hermit crabs and shells on the shore, as he remembered the music in the square and the laughter echoing in the same way as the bells of the church on Sunday, everyone was happy ... and life seemed to be less unfair to those who deserved it less, it tasted like jam and fruit jellies, salt on the lips and bees flying.

Marlena's chest swelled with air, as if she had been holding her breath until then...perhaps because diving into one's childhood was like floundering in a stormy sea pretending to stay afloat.

The cheerful barking of her dog Lapo brought the young woman back to the present, who decided to place the letters on a window sill not far from the front door and set off together with the playful animal towards the kitchen. Lapo was a nice Bernese Mountain Dog, with a black, brown and white coat. It had been given to her five years ago, perhaps because her father had sensed that even his absence had created in the heart of his only daughter, a sense of distressing loneliness, which had consumed her to the bone making her totally apathetic for certain verses.

But Lapo, Lapo had saved her from her, with Lapo she spoke and shared gestures of affection, such as caresses and little licks between her fingers and hair. Sometimes Marlena fell asleep in her bed, with the bulky dog on her, because feeling her warm and humid breath on her blankets reminded her in her sleep that she was not alone in the dark of the night. As long as Lapo's heart had beaten the young girl she was not afraid of having to wake up or sleep.

Although she tried to convince herself that staying in her comfort zone would be easier than answering "yes" to her grandmother's request, a part of her was again attracting her to that letter; her gaze was captured by the horizon of her mind, while in the distance she could almost hear the sounds and flavors of a place almost too fairytale to be part of the material world.

"I know I should answer..." she murmured as she was intent on washing the peel of a red apple in the kitchen sink. Meanwhile the dog sat up looking at her intensely while she wagged his tail waiting for her.

"...It's just that, that place...and then I should finish studying, I have an exam to take at the end of the summer, Lapo" but the dog tilted his head in disappointment and then got up and trotted out of the room, looking for of who knows what amusement, leaving Marlena to her thoughts, as she bit into the freshly dried fruit with the kitchen towel.

All of this would only be for a little over a month and a half, just a month and a half and then she would leave it all behind her again, as she did a long time ago.

“Hello grandma. I'm Marlena..."

Marlena after putting the letter back next to her bedside table, she grabbed the cell phone not far away and typed some numbers on the screen, not too convincingly, and then brought the object to her ear.

There were those ten seconds of waiting that seemed the stroke of half a century, until a voice said "Hello?".

Marlena had brought two large bags with her. One for clothes and the other full of junk such as: books, objects for the dog, tricks and everything that for her mind, not so familiar with travel, she considered indispensable. She was not so convinced that both of them would enter the trunk, but the exemplary ability to know how to adapt and make do with her grandfather always left her with amazement on the edge of her lips.

It took two days before grandfather Laerte's small and overly backward FIAT Punto made its peerless entrance next to the bottle-green gate of the small cloister of the Marlena palace.

The man had taken more or less ten minutes just to park, the niece had wondered how long it would take him to get there and start again.

The young woman was sitting in the back seats, together with Lapo. She held in her hands a small bunch of tulips that Laertes had brought her, made by herself. He said to her:

"I went for a walk in the countryside and tried to capture the most beautiful of all, like my granddaughter!" followed by a proud, croaking laugh. Laertes had always been a proud and incurable romantic, without ever giving up some of her drama, grandmother Agata did nothing but remind her of it in her letters.

Like when Marlena pointed out to him, that the steering wheel of the car was too damaged for the latter to be considered in accordance with the law, but he had always replied that a good soldier and partisan would appeal to his driving experience and a little 'of elbow grease, in order to be sure that the itinerary of the journey would be peaceful and without unpleasant hitches.

Lapo let out an enthusiastic bark when the croaking car left the endless concrete of the highway behind, and then took a narrow, winding, uphill road that would have led them to the small town.

Her gaze stared blankly at what was running, like tape in a movie camera, out the window; She saw the buildings of the city become less present, as well as the stench of smog, then there was a long stretch of highway, immersed in the wheat fields and every now and then some small farm or spare parts industry or other jobs would emerge.

In the car there would have been complete silence, had it not been for the old radio which played an entire disc of all of Lucio Dalla's masterpieces; Marlena's grandfather liked that singer, but not in the same way chatting while driving, because according to him it would have increased the chances of road accidents by 50%, and frankly, the granddaughter didn't mind at all this acknowledgment ... she didn't even know where she should have started and however much her relatives tried to make her feel at ease, she imagined herself as a stranger, a stranger, who had knocked on their door and was now just trying to learn and remember their common manners.

"If you look to the right you will see the sea, Marlena" Laertes informed her, while he struggled with the steering wheel at every bend, but he did not dare to make even a moan under stress. The girl decided to accept those words, and looking out (after rolling down the window) a crisp air of salt pervaded her nostrils like the balm of a mint. Her eyes tried to show as little as possible the defeat of an amazement that had overwhelmed her like a raging wave, making her heart pound.

The sea. Marlena loved the sea. And for a few moments she was wondering what she had forced her to shut up in the house all that time, but then her mind went back to static and clear. She knew why, and there was no other reason to get her back together, even if it was difficult.

Yet there seemed to be few people around the streets, perhaps because at that time anyone with a minimum of wit would have holed up in the cool four walls of their home, just to escape the scorching heat that did not yield until the stroke of five in the afternoon .

By now it was almost two in the afternoon when Laertes' car passed the threshold of the square of the small town, while the attentive (even if apparently lost) gaze of his granddaughter observed everything in detail.

Nothing seems to have changed in that place since the last one who went there. The street was always covered with the usual, old and coarse slabs of white stone and eroded by the weather, as well as the various shops that surrounded the square and the small houses side by side, glazed with a fresh off-white plaster and dark brown roofs, the fountain in the center, and the small restaurant with its balcony overlooking the long pine forest that extended at the foot of the modest hill that supported the town.

A jolt suddenly shook Marlena, when her grandfather decided to pull over and pull up the handbrake of his FIAT, thus causing a slight recoil unexpectedly enough to suddenly wake the girl from her thoughts. She cleared her throat, while she opened her door, so that Lapo could finally trot and wag his tail excitedly around, on the other hand she didn't blame him, it must have been hard for a dog to stay good in the car for so many hours.

"Here we are!" proclaimed the elderly man putting the car keys in his pocket and then ring the bell of the small house next to FIAT "Your grandmother will be so happy to see you, I bet she will have prepared ciambelle with red wine to celebrate your reunion" he added while he waited for the woman he mentioned to open to him, already anticipating on his lips the pungent and sweet taste of those sweets he loved so much.

"So I suppose you made at least thirty" commented the young woman ironically, as she dragged out the two bags with extreme difficulty, attracting the attention of Laertes who, hastily adjusting his frizzy white hair, hastened to reach his niece to give her your support.

“Ah don't worry, kid. I'll take care of it, maybe you can ring the door, your grandmother has now gone deaf as a bell...” he said as he gave a slight snort and then muttered something.

"C’mon, grandpa" Marlena replied then raising her eyes to the sky trying not to smile, how melodramatic could that man be?

After pressing her finger on the bell again, the girl waited for someone to answer and hearing the approach of some quick steps together with the rubbing of flip-flops on the floor, made her realize that Agata had finally heard their arrival. Marlena did not even have time to greet the elderly lady, who took her in her arms, wrapping her in an embrace that caught her unprepared and to which she did not respond immediately.

“Oh my love! I’m so happy to see you again! But look how you have grown! It seems only yesterday when you reached mid-thigh and now...” the hands a little gnarled, but from the soft fingertips of the woman, gently took the face of her niece like a cup, as if to feel if her presence was only fantasy or reality "...You are a woman to all intents and purposes" she whispered and then fussed with kisses all over her face, while Marlena whining pretending to be somehow annoyed.

After climbing a short flight of stairs that led to the house located on the upper floor, the girl's nostrils and consciousness were flooded with memories and sensations already savored. She observed the now old floor of the house, granite tiles that alternated with one hand painted and another not; Marlena rejoiced with a touch of amusement when she as a child she spent boring afternoons playing on them, jumping only on the decorated ones because according to her imagination those remains were made of incandescent lava.

The walls were always the same, covered with a light blue paint and slightly lumpy at times, she could feel it, when the index and middle fingers of her right hand absently brushed the surface.

The house of Marlena's grandparents was very simple and perhaps apparently a little cramped. Having opened the wooden entrance door, after having passed the landing and the stairs, she had in front of her a corridor that extended along to her right, thus marking the various doors of each room that the house gathered inside. Almost parallel to the entrance there was the kitchen door on the opposite wall, without doors, next to it the bathroom door, and then the door to the room of the two elderly spouses. At the end of the corridor there was a small balcony with the railing covered with hanging vases where, like a multicolored waterfall, a thick branching of coral red bucanville came out which, in addition to poetically letting itself fall from the small niche, climbed elegant and graceful on the handrail of the then hug the outside walls of the house.

Marlena took advantage of it, to be able to peep there, while she deeply breathed the fragrant and velvety scent of those petals, mixed with the sea breeze that came from beyond the pine forest that surrounded the town. She observed the small houses around her while if she winked she could distinguish the clear line of the flat and calm sea that merged in perfect alchemy with the clear sky on the horizon.

The young woman tried in every way to convince herself that that enchanted place, that little corner of paradise had never failed her...but she suddenly proclaimed herself foolish for having thought such a cynical thing in the least.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

#maneskin #ethan torchio #damiano david #victoria de angelis #thomas raggi #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #imagine #imagines #chapter 1 #romantic #the flames in your eyes #ENG VERSION

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atalho-s · 4 years ago

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Light Up The Dark

Part 1 | June

pairing: bartender!tom x famous!reader

warnings: some smut +18 (in this particular chapter it’s nothing TOO explicit, but miniors be aware), swear words?, drinking, let me know if anything else!

words: 4.9 k

summary: y/n is a famous horror writer. Her books are on the lips of the people and her face is on all the magazine covers of promising young people.

She has just moved to Los Angeles, the city of celebrities and luxury, when she starts to get a writer's block as she starts writing her newest book. A way to distract herself and seek inspiration leads her to have her destiny mapped out with a simple waiter named Tom who has a delicious british accent.

What happens when her inspiration comes back only after she spends a night with him and she only manages to write after being in the company of that guy she just met? Maybe he'll become her newest addiction.

a/n: english it’s not my first language, so i’m sorry for any mistake! this is a series i started writing a while ago, i hope y’all enjoy :) the reader it’s from brazil here, but you can replace from any country you want lol And obv i’m not from LA and never been there, so if i say something out of reality it’s bc of that 😂

"June arrived at the restaurant, sat down near the bar and looked around vaguely. The strange people's faces made her think better and maybe drink a shot of tequila too.

She opened his folder with the horrifying photos of the mysterious case. She felt sick to her stomach.

People said that by then she should have been used to see this kind of thing, but that was repulsive.

She wish the nightmare she had the night before was a way to solve that puzzle, but believing in the afterlife now wouldn't help her... If...If..."

- Damn it... - Y/n slammed her fist on the table. - Writer's block sucks. - She said and took the last sip of her tea.

It s been a week since she couldn't write anything. She would write maybe two paragraphs, maybe even three if she got lucky, but she always ended up erasing it, because she always turned into something meaningless or too cliche.

Damn the time she had promised to deliver something to her editor by the end of the month. But she hadn't counted on the lack of ideas when she agreed to that.

She got up from her chair in frustration and crossed her arms, pacing, as if her creativity had gone out for a walk and she was waiting impatiently for it to come back.

Why had she agreed to write a new book in the first place? She didn't need money. Their previous four books were already making huge profits, and they were going to make a new television series based on one of them.

So why writing another one? Maybe because, she had been having too many nightmares lately. Many family and friends told her to see a psychologist, see if she didn't have some hidden trauma. But looking for a psychologist? Admitting your weaknesses and personal things to a stranger? Never. That would be horrifying.

Writing helped. Transferring his fears to pages was hers gift. When she wrote she didn't have nightmares, didn't see things, wasn't sad. It was like a drug, a calming medicine.

Maybe fame was also making her restless lately. She hated being the spotlight, being the magazine cover of promising young people. She hated to see her name highlighted. But she loved having readers, yes. She loved when someone felt good reading her books or in the good sense of the word: terrified by her stories.

At the height of her 25 years, he never thought her books would become famous at that point. She had always enjoyed writing since she was a child, but working with it was just an unattainable dream. Until, at age 19, she quit her hideous job as a hotel receptionist and decided to publish her first story.

Obviously there were many rejections, until a publisher agreed to publish their work. From then on, her books became more and more known. They called her the new horror genius, the mystery queen, and sometimes even "Stephen King's lost daughter."

She didn't think it was all that. But she accepted the descriptions gladly. No wonder her books didn't come out of the top spot on the best sellers.

Another thing that motivated her to continue with that story, was a phrase from her own idol mentioned, Stephen King: "good stories are those that stay in the head for a long time". And God only knew how that story had been with her for far too long. She always wanted to put it down on paper, so here she was trying to put into words what her head brought up as random thoughts.

But now she was having one of his first creative blocks. Obviously she had already had it with previous books, but nothing as frustrating as this one. She had been trying hard for days, which was exhausting.

She looked at the clock on the wall: 11pm. Who knows if she took another break before starting writing again? Maybe it would help to come up with more ideas.

She thought about watching a show or movie, but he wasn't in the mood. She looked at her long polka dot pajamas under her favorite warm robe and snorted. Go out? On a Thursday night? On a cold night? No way.

But what if it helped her have more writing material? Watching people on the street really helped. If June, the character in her book, was in a bar, maybe if she went to one too it would help to have something to build on.

Writers did it all the time. Describe places that already existed, situations similar to which they lived. So, it wouldn't be new. Maybe she'd even put the location in her tribute if helped she got out of her creative block.

She took a deep breath and went to take a shower. It was decided, she would go out. She put on her best jeans, a Ramones T-shirt with a leather jacket. It wasn't a fancy outfit, but she didn't intend to go somewhere fancy anyway. Her stylist would have been dying to see her now, but she didn't care one bit.

She went out pressing the bottom of the elevator. Y/n had lived on the top floor of a building for 2 months, right in downtown Los Angeles. Sometimes she didn't even know why she chose to live there, she hated the big city and what came with it: paparazzi, celebrities, crazy people who feel superior, wealth and luxury. She came from a humble family, so she always felt like an outsider.

Y/n arrived downstairs and left the condominium calling a taxi that was passing in the street just in time. She walked in and closed the door, crossing her arms, trying to ward off the cold.

- Good night miss, where are you going? - the driver asked looking at her in the rearview mirror.

- Good night... Actually I don't know, do you have any suggestions for a bar around here?- she asked looking out the window. She didn't even bother to look for suggestions for places nearby.

- Well, it depends on what you're looking for... Something luxurious or something fun? - He said and a smiled played on the corer of her mouth. Luxurious was the opposite of fun indeed.

- Something fun, of course.

- So, I suggest the new Seven Devils bar, it's less than 20 minutes from here... - he said.

- Interesting name... Could be. - She said shrugging.

- The name is kinda creepy, but the place is cozy and welcoming, I went once. - the driver said starting and entering the street that was practically empty for being a weekday.

- Cool... - Y/n said looking at the city lights through the window.

After nearly twenty minutes the taxi stopped in front of what appeared to be a small door with a security guard in front of it. The neon sign indicated the name of the place, it seemed a mysterious place for those who passed by without knowing it.

- Thanks. - Y/n said handing the driver the money.

- You're not the Y/n Y/l/n? I didn't want to say anything, but I'm a fan of you, I love your books, they help me pass the time while I wait for passengers. - the driver asked turning a little with one of the Y/n books in his hand. - Could you sign this for me?

- Sure! - Y/n spoke excitedly taking the book from his hand and leaving a message along with her signature. - Thanks for the tip of the place. Have a good night... - She said opening the door.

- No, thank you, have a good night miss. -he said and she smiled closing the door and the taxi left leaving her alone looking at the door in front of her.

She approached the security guard who wished her good night, giving her room to enter, after she showed her ID. Y/n entered a little afraid of what she would find. The door behind her closed and she looked around. It was really cozy as the taxi driver said, it had a part with several tables, which were a little empty and a bar with stools around. The place had a good atmosphere, one of those that people go there to meet and chat with friends, in the background there was a kind of pop song that she wasn't sure if she knew or not.

He slowly approached the bar and sat down on one of the stools. A woman with several tattoos appeared behind the counter and came to serve her.

- Good night! How can I serve you?- she asked with a smile.

- Good night... Hm... Maybe a martini? - Y/n said taking a look at the drinks on the shelf behind the attendant.

- Okay, I'll be back with your order, anything else?

- That's it for now, thanks. - She replied smiling and the attendant walked away.

Y/n kept looking around, watching people, maybe looking for some inspiration. Something that would turn the key in his mind. Many who were there were in groups of friends and were talking animatedly, laughing. Some young and some older, in suits and ties, perhaps coming out of work.

Until one guy in particular caught her attention. He wore the black uniform with the name of the place, with an apron tied around the waist of the same color, and was picking up some glasses from some empty tables. He had dark brown hair slicked back and eyes the same color, very expressive and large. A boy's face from the outside, but on the inside had a mysterious and confident air.

He balanced a tray full of things with an greatest skill in one hand and smiled at some people, he seemed charming because everytime he left a table he left people whispering and giggling embarrassed behind his back.

He walked over and entered the bar placing the tray behind the counter, came close to the other attendant who already had the Y/n martini ready and she could hear him talking, soon realizing he had a perfect accent.

- Sally, you can leave it to me, go take your break. Whose martini is it?- he asked taking a look around.

- Oh thank you, my feet are killing me. It's the girl over there. -she said indicating Y/n with her head and he looked at her, making Y/n realize that she was staring at him for too long, so she looked away embarrassed.

- Okay. - he said looking at where Y/n was sitting and stopped in front of her with the glass. - Good night miss, here is your order. - He spoke with a british accent. Only at that moment did Y/n realize that his accent was well loaded and God only knows how much she loved that accent.

- Oh yes, thank you very much. - She said raising her eyes to look at him and smiled then he blinked with one of his eyes and gave her one more look, before going to deliver another order to a man who was sitting a few benches away.

Y/n felt a shiver all of a sudden, that boy had made her legs a little weak and she didn't really know why. I mean, he was handsome, very handsome and he had a special charm, but it wasn't that much, was it? Maybe it was because it had been a while since she'd dated anyone. When was the last time? Two months ago? Since she had moved in she hadn't gone out with anyone, she had locked herself in her apartment and was writing like crazy. She didn't have time to go out, not even with her friends when she was working on a new book. Which brought them dissatisfaction from time to time, not just because she didn't hang around with them, but because she didn't even go out on one-night stands.

She never been the one that going out with a guy just for sex, she had to have some good first dates and maybe she would take him to see her apartment or go to his apartment. Friends of hers thought she was too old in her spirit, but what can he do? If she couldn't be bad girl once in a while. For a moment she thought, "For this english guy I would be" but shook her head away from the thoughts. She went back to analyzing him, dammit why did he have to be so fit? She could see that the T-shirt he was wearing highlighted his muscles that were only left to her imagination, she found herself biting her lip a bit and snatching her martini off the counter, taking a big sip.

The attendant approached again, drying some glasses with a towel, and took one more look in her direction where she looked away quickly making him smirk. He stopped in front of her again, bracing her arms on the counter, making her swallow hard. He didn't know why she was so nervous, he was just a guy, no biggie.

- I like the shirt. - He pointed with a smile, which made her think he had a beautiful and endearing smile. She looked down and then looked at him smiling too.

- Thank you... Ramones is everything... - she said and drank the last sip of her drink placing the empty glass in front of her right after. - Can you serve one more?

- Sure...- he said, still smiling, took the bottle and filled his glass again. - Trying to distract yourself on a thursday night?

- Yeah... you could say yes... - she said taking another sip. - Have you worked here for a long time?

- In fact, it's been almost six months since I moved to the United States and I've been working here for four months. -he said putting the towel that was in his hand on his shoulder.

- Hm... You're from London?

- I am, wow how did you find out? - he asked raising an eyebrow playfully and she smiled.

- Yeah, your accent really doesn't give out anything ... - she said and he gave a low laugh making her have more goose bumps.

- You also have a different accent, have you lived here for a long time? - he didn't know who she was, which was good. But it also wasn't like she was recognized all the time, despite her face being on magazine covers, she was still a writer, so she was only recognized by those who liked to read or who vaguely remembered her face.

- I was born in Brazil actually, but I've lived here for years, lived in another city for almost five years and now I've decided to come to Los Angeles two months ago...

- I see ... - he said organizing some drinks that were on the counter. - Do you like it here?

- More or less... It's a busy city, isn't it?

- Yeah, it's not for anyone. - He said shrugging. - I like it, I like the rush, but the glamor part really isn't me. - the attendant said and she smiled.

- You're right... I mean, I don't like the glam too much either... - She looked away at her nails.

- What do you work with? - he asked and she looked at him again.

- I'm a writer...

- Nice! What do you write? - He asked curious looking at her with attention.

- I write horror and thriller books.

- Interesting... I would never read, actually I'm not much of a reader anyway, but I wouldn't, because I'm terrified of those things. - He said crossing his arms and she laughed.

- Oh, it's not that terrifying, it's just stories. - She said leaning her elbows on the counter.

- Still, I prefer to have my good night's sleep intact. - He said and she laughed making him smile looking at her.

When she was about to say something, a customer signaled for him and he excused himself going towards the man who was furthest away.

Y/n sighed. She still didn't have any new ideas about her story, but she was entertained by that conversation. She liked not being recognized, she liked him not being interested in her books, for a moment she felt oblivious to anything, liked feeling disconnected from her world.

He returned shortly after and they started talking again. They talked about bands, movies, superficial celebrities and even politics (an important topic in Y/n's vision, who was very firm with her ideas, thankfully he had passed the test). She found out that he was the same age as her and that he moved to the US to look for something that would give him money or a perspective on life, ended up getting that job and intended to stay until he found a different area. The hours passed and they kept finding subjects to give their opinion or questions to ask each other.

- Did you go to college? - she asked after a while.

- No, I don't think I'm smart enough for that, or have the patience. What about you?

- Everyone is smart enough. I started going to business school, but I dropped out when my books started to pay off...

- Wow, your books should give you a good amount of money to be able to drop out of college and dedicate yourself to them...

- Yeah... You could say that. - She shrugged.

- You know looking at you closer like that...- he said getting a little closer and she held her breath for a moment. - I've seen you somewhere...

- Really? - She said raising her eyebrow and drinking from a straw, now with a different drink.

- I don't know, you're not strange to me... - he said putting his hand on his face thoughtfully.

- Well, I hope it's from somewhere nice. - She smiled and he smiled back looking at her. - Do you have a girlfriend or are you married? - Y/n asked and regretted a little, what was she thinking? He wasn't married, as he didn't have a ring on his finger as she'd noticed. But what was her intention by asking that question? She didn't even know, she just knew it had escaped her.

- Neither darling. - He replied smiling a little mischievously and she felt butterflies with the way he called her by that nickname and with that accent. - How about you?

- Neither ... - She replied avoiding looking at him, those eyes hypnotized her and she didn't like to feel at his mercy of a guy she had just met. She took the cell phone disguising but paid attention to the time. - My God, it's already 2:00 in the morning! I completely missed the time.

- I think the company ended up distracting you. - He said still not taking his eyes off her and she felt her cheeks heat up.

- Yeah, the chat was really good... But I have to go... - she said getting up.

- If you wait I can take you home, I'm already leaving, the bar is already closing. - he said and Y/n looked around seeing that some waiters were already collecting some things from the tables.

She thought for a moment, take a ride home with him? It didn't make sense, she had just met him, but at the same time she had enjoyed talking to him so much. He didn't seem like a bad person, but even so you would never know for sure. At the same time she never took any chances, why not let that pretty boy take her home? Finally, she thought: you know what? Screw this.

-Erm, ok...- She shrugged. - I'll go to the cashier to pay and wait for you outside?

- No need to pay darling, it's on me. - He spoke winking and she smiled.

- Oh no, I'll pay no problem...

- Your company has paid off your debt, it's ok. - He replied and she took a deep breath rolling her eyes.

- If you insist...- she said giving up.

He came out from behind the counter and motioned for her to follow him, arriving at the front door where the security was.

- Tuwaine, you can let her pass, it's on me. - He told the big guy and he looked at the english man, sawing his eyes suspiciously and smiling right away. Making Y/n laugh inside.

- Meet you outside? It will only take a few minutes - the attendant said and she nodded, leaving in the cold night.

She leaned against the door with her thoughts. She had come here just to get inspiration and to have her creative back, but she was coming home with an english guy. She didn't even recognize herself anymore, but to say she wasn't anxious (in a good way) was a lie.

She was lost in her thought, until minutes later he came out wearing a denim jacket, which made him look even more handsome.

- Let's go? - He said and she followed him to an old car parked right in front of the bar.

He opened the door for her to get in and she thanked him by sitting in the passenger seat, pulling on her seat belt as he closed the door. He sat down next to her right away, also putting on his belt.

- Hey, before we go: I didn't ask for your name! If you're going to take me home at least I have to know that- she asked realizing that she didn't even know that yet and he looked towards her smiling.

- Tom Holland. - He said stretching his hand. - Nice to meet you.

- Y/n Y/l/n- she said, squeezing his hand. And you can't deny that she felt butterflies in her stomach as she felt her skin on hers.

- Your name is not strange to me, I must have read it in one of your books in some shop window. - He said starting and leaving with the car.

- Yeah, who knows ... - she said and he turned on the radio leaving the volume low.

They were exchanging a few words until she indicated that they had arrived at the building where she lived. Tom parked and looked up in a daze.

- Wow, you really have money... - he said and she took off her belt turning towards him.

- A little bit...- she replied crossing her arms. - Well, thank you so much for the ride...

- You're welcome darling. - He said turning his eyes to her. Again that nickname that sounded perfect on his lips.

She turned around, but when she was about to open the door, she turned back to Tom, who was leaning with one hand on the steering wheel and watching her with attention. The next words escaped her again and she was afraid she'd regret it.

- Tom, do you want to come in? - She spoke still holding the door and the boy smiled.

- Sure ... - he said taking the key from the ignition and she shook her head slightly leaving.

He followed her and they entered the building. Tom looked at everything admired which made Y/n smile a little to herself. They entered the elevator and she pressed the penthouse button causing him to raise an eyebrow.

- You really must be a great writer. - he said and she laughed.

He leaned his back against the elevator wall, putting his hands in his pocket and looking her up and down, making her shy. He kept looking at her and it was making her nervous.

They were silent until the elevator opened after a while and they got out. Y/n put a password on the door and it swung open with a small click, she took held the latch and motioned for Tom to enter.

After the two of them entered she closed the door again behind her and watched Tom standing further on, looking around.

- Nice apartment...- he finally said.

- Thank you... - She leaned against the table at the entrance. She didn't know what to do next, maybe it had been a bad idea to bring him here. Why was she so impulsive that night? -Tom, I don't know why I invite you in, sorry...-she said a little nervous looking at her feet. He turned towards her, approaching and stopping in front of her.

- Are you sure you don't know? - He asked and she raised her head, seeing those brown eyes. She bit her bottom lip watching him closely. Damn he knew how to hypnotize her. He took another step and placed a hand on either side of her on the table, cornering her - Your body says otherwise, love... - he said softly feeling her breath hitch slowly and approaching his face to hers, alternating the look of your eyes to her lips. Y/n found another nickname that was perfect when he say.

He finally closed the distance by pressing his lips to hers. His lips were soft and warm, as if they were meant to be kissed. She returned the kiss willingly and when she laced her fingers in his neck, he licked her lower lip slowly asking for passage in which she opened them letting his tongue explore her mouth.

His hands gripped her waist and roamed her body greedily. As he kissed her, he caught her from behind her legs and sat her down on the entrance table, biting her bottom lip shortly after, provoking a low moan from her. He smiled against her lips and trailed kisses to her neck, attacking her skin with desire, making her throw her head back a little.

She grabbed his hair and pulled him back so she could kiss him. Which he gladly reciprocate. His kiss was urgent, but without being rude, he tasted like mint, making her want him even more.

His fingers found the button of her pants and he undid them quickly pulling them out, tossing them aside. When he came back he took her calf and kissed her leg up to her thighs, making her sigh. He moved up the kisses until he caught the hem of her shirt and pulled it up a little, kissing her stomach as well. Y/n didn't know what to do but feel goose bumps with every touch he gave. He then hiked up her shirt and she lifted her arms where he pulled her off, tossing along with her pants that were also on the floor.

She was just wearing her underwear in front of him, it made her a little excited and embarrassed at the same time, but the way he looked at her made her feel confident. He went back to kissing her body, this time kissing each covered breast in turn and reaching for the back of her bra and opening it. She helped him out tosiing to the side and he stood between her legs just watching her for a second, making her feel her cheeks heat up.

- Perfect... - he said with a low voice, as it was for himself and bent down to her breasts kissing each one of her nipples and then sucking them deliciously. Y/n moaned and bit her lip to keep her moans from getting louder, tangling her fingers in his hair again. He looked into her eyes for a few seconds and smiled slightly lowering his kisses to where she wanted him most.

He reached the hem of her panties and pulled them out slowly, kneeling between her legs and she looked at him with expectation. He returned the look and gave that smirk again.

- Look at you darling.... - That damn nickname. - Extremely wet and I haven't even touched you yet... - he said approaching and devouring her right away making her throw her head back with pleasure, biting her lips again to not sound so pathetic with her moans that insisted in wanting get out. - Oh, please don't drown out those wonderful sounds you make, I want to hear how good I'm making you feel. - He said in a husky tone, returning to his task after and she parted her lips letting her moans spread through the apartment.

****************************************************************************************

Y/n woke up the other day in her bed. She didn't even know how she got there, she just had flashes of the night before and how good she felt in each moment. She stretched and looked to the side seeing she was alone. She got up and put on a robe who was on the side of the bed.

After going to the bathroom and doing her morning hygiene routine she walked around the apartment looking around to see if Tom was somewhere else in the house, but found nothing. Which was understandable, it wasn't like she expected him to stay there and have breakfast with her and all.

She arrived in the kitchen and made black coffee and lean against the countertop. What that simple waiter had done to her was ridiculous, in a good sense, she felt great and kept remembering that accent that was stuck in her mind. He had consumed her in a way she had never imagined it she could be.

Taking a deep breath she set down turning her notebook on. Then opened her book and started writing.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #bartender!tom #waiter!tom #tom holland x famous!reader #bartender!tom x writer!reader #tom holland series

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staticspaces · 4 years ago

Photo

House of the Brown Flower 2

If you haven't done so already, check out the video and don't forget to subscribe!!

https://youtu.be/kw4pGfoQRPs

One last look at this ranch house, here is the basement and the entry way by the garage!!

This mid century ranch style house has 3+1 bedrooms and only 2 bathrooms, while being fairly modest in size this was once the middle class norm in home designs. With a great retro feel to the decor, there is a mix of styles from the 60s to the 90s as the owners slowly updated as needed. A lot of the elements in this home seem to be original to when the house was built, there is a lot of colourful carpeting, wallpaper, tiles in the bathroom and even some retro appliances. The home has three fireplaces one of which in the dining room, is large and covers the entire wall from floor to ceiling with some of the most amazing brick I have ever seen!

The home sits on 1.5 acres of land and was built in 1962, it is considered a prime development area and was bought by a developer for $2.4 million in 2019. This ranch house's fate has already been sealed as the new owners have submitted a proposal to build a 6 storey condominium along with 5 detached homes in its place.

What do you think of those bathrooms!?

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northernindigenousbeautyhailey · 3 years ago

Text

TAMRA JEWEL KEEPNESS.

FEW CHILDREN IN CANADA JUST VANISH. Fewer still stay gone for longer than a couple of days. Some are found alive, others are hurt or killed, but rarely does a child simply disappear. The RCMP’s National Centre for Missing Persons and Unidentified Remains database lists 147 missing children, in a country of more than 35 million people. Of the sixty children under the age of twelve, a quarter are thought to have been abducted by their parents. A large portion of the others were lost to apparent accidents or misadventure, falling through ice or swept away in the pull of wild rivers, their bodies never recovered. The database shows twenty-four children in the past sixty years who have inexplicably disappeared. Because there are so few, we know them. In Edmonton, there is Tania Murrell, six when she vanished while walking home from school for lunch in January 1983. In Toronto, Nicole Morin, eight when she disappeared from a condominium building in July 1985. Michael Dunahee was four years old when he went missing from a playground in Victoria in 1991. In Regina, there is only Tamra Keepness.

THE LAST TIME anyone saw Tamra, she was five years old, with bobbed black hair and soft, round cheeks. In one picture, she wears a T-shirt dotted with flowers, standing against the colourful collage of a classroom wall. Her smile is broad and open, her eyes lively. She was so smart that her mother called her “my little Einstein,” so feisty that when a little boy pushed her once, Tamra shoved him right back, and harder. She liked playing Mario Kart on Nintendo and climbing her favourite tree, down the block from her house.

July 6, 2004, was the first time Sergeant Ron Weir would hear Tamra’s name. He was getting ready to leave on vacation that day when he got an urgent call back to the police station. Weir was a veteran cop with the Regina Police Service and head of emergency services, which included search and rescue. In a meeting, officers from the major crimes unit laid out what they knew: sometime between the night of Monday, July 5, and the morning of Tuesday, July 6, a five-year-old girl had gone missing from her home in central Regina.

Weir had been a police officer for twenty years. He knew that kids often went missing and turned up safe a short time later. Sixty-five percent of missing children and teens are located within the first day, and almost 90 percent within the first week. But Weir also knew that Tamra was too young to get far as a runaway. Patrol officers had already checked the neighbourhood to make sure Tamra hadn’t wandered away or ended up at the house of a playmate or relative, as was often the case with missing children. They’d found nothing. Even in the early hours of the investigation, Weir suspected this case would be different.

TAMRA LIVED with her mother, stepfather, and five siblings at 1834 Ottawa Street, a shabby brown-and-white two-storey with a windowed porch at the front. The house stood between 11th and 12th avenues, just east of downtown Regina. The neighbourhood was a mix of long-time elderly residents, young families drawn by low prices for heritage houses, and ramshackle homes where residents struggled with poverty and addiction. The area was sometimes known as the “low stroll,” a place where women and girls sold their bodies for drugs or booze and men drove around looking to buy them, circling the neighbourhood in trucks and station wagons. Many of the women and girls who lived or worked in the area were First Nations, like Tamra. Long before calls for a federal inquiry into missing and murdered Indigenous women would dominate the political conversation, women were going missing from those streets. It was from that same area that nineteen-year-old Annette Kelly Peigan disappeared in 1983, followed by eighteen-year-old Patsy Favel in 1984 and Joyce Tillotson in 1993. Two years later, two young white men picked up a woman named Pamela George, sexually assaulted her, and beat her to death.

The last public development came in November 2014, when a Reddit user posted to the website a scrawled map with the words: “Location of Tamra Keepness, check the wells.”

Tamra’s house was less than a block from the Oskana Centre, a halfway house for federal parolees, and not far from the Salvation Army’s Waterston House, a residence and shelter inhabited by former inmates and men struggling with drugs, alcohol, and psychiatric issues. Residents of both facilities had been responsible for serious attacks in the past. Just four months earlier, convicted violent sex offender Randy Burgmann had lured a woman into his room at Waterston House with alcohol, before violently sexually assaulting her and leaving her beside a dumpster to die. The Oskana Centre had previously been home to both serial rapist Larry Deckert and Billy John Francis Whitedeer, who began committing violent sexual offences on children when he was ten years old. A few blocks farther was the Ehrle Hotel, one of the worst bars in town, from which patrons spilled soggy and staggering onto the sidewalk, and which appeared regularly in police reports and court testimony.

Police also had serious questions about what was happening at 1834 Ottawa Street. There was a broken window and blood spatter in the porch. Social Services had been involved with the family since not long after the oldest child was born in 1993, and there had been more than fifty reports made to crisis workers, most often about Tamra’s mother’s use of alcohol and drugs, and neglect of the children. Her mother’s boyfriend had a history of violence and domestic assault. In most cases, investigators knew, children are hurt by people closest to them.

POLICE STARTED with a thorough search of the area immediately around the home, then cast their efforts outward in an expanding grid. As the sun rose on the morning of July 7, 2004, the search effort intensified. First, there were ten officers, then twenty, then more. Some officers accompanied trained volunteer search teams; others questioned family members and potential witnesses, going door-to-door gathering leads or chasing down tips. The RCMP training academy provided cadets, and members of the public soon began arriving on their own to help.

Police set up a command-centre bus in the parking lot of a nearby church, from which Weir co-ordinated the search. Though it was an urban environment, the terrain posed serious challenges. The area was filled with overgrown yards, empty houses, piles of garbage. Tamra weighed forty pounds, and stood three foot five. There were so many places a child could hide or get trapped or be held, where a child’s body could be concealed or dumped. Searchers in orange vests worked in grids, knocking on doors, inspecting junked cars and crumbling garages, peering under discarded mattresses and piles of wood, looking down manholes. Police stopped garbage pickups, checking all the bins in the neighbourhood, the trash putrid and reeking in the summer heat. Some bins had already been emptied, so plans were made to search the dump as well.

And what if she had been taken farther? Not far away were industrial areas, large abandoned lots and buildings, Wascana Creek, and beyond that, the vast Prairie. With a thirteen-hour head start, someone in a vehicle could have had Tamra in Vancouver before she was reported missing.

When they were not speaking to police, members of Tamra’s family waited anxiously on the fringes, watching the searchers, eyeing the growing assembly of reporters and news crews holding out microphones and pointing camera lenses. “It’s not like her to go off by herself,” said Tamra’s father, Troy Keepness, sitting on the front steps of his ex-wife’s house, his voice tight with worry. “We’re trying to do our best to get her back.”

Weir worked in the command-centre bus, surrounded by maps and whiteboards. A scribe logged every aspect of the search in real time, recording ideas and progress. No one wanted to break, not for food or rest. Everyone knew the situation grew more serious with every passing hour. As the heat of the day gave way to evening, Weir stood outside and looked up. A strong wind had come in, and storm clouds were spreading, darkening the Prairie sky.

The next day, police strung crime-scene tape around Tamra’s house and the one next door, drawing it through the back alley and across six garages, long slashes of yellow dividing the street. Officers guarded the perimeter while forensic investigators went in and out of the house in boots and masks. “While we don’t have any direct evidence that Tamra has come to any harm, we also don’t know where she is,” police spokeswoman Elizabeth Popowich told reporters. “And if, in fact, this comes to a point where we determine that she’s come to some harm and it’s because of a criminal act, this location could potentially be the scene of some evidence.”

THERE WERE three adults in the house that evening: the children’s mother, Lorena Keepness; her boyfriend, Dean McArthur; and a family friend named Russell Sheepskin, who had been staying with the family. All three had come and gone during the night, and investigators were starting to question their movements. There were no signs of forced entry to the house, and there were gaps, inconsistencies in their timelines that didn’t make sense to investigators.

The story the three told publicly, compiled from various interviews, was that Lorena and McArthur got into an argument while watching a movie on Monday evening, and McArthur and Sheepskin left the house around 8:30 p.m. to go drinking. The men returned briefly to drop off a bottle of formula for the baby, then left again. Lorena went out around 11 p.m, kissing Tamra goodbye before she went. The oldest child in the house was ten-year-old Summer, the youngest was Lorena and McArthur’s nine-month-old baby. Lorena returned briefly to check on the children and then left again around midnight. At about 3 a.m., Sheepskin returned home drunk and saw Tamra sleeping on the couch. Not long after, McArthur got back to the house and assaulted Sheepskin on the porch, punching him through a window and then stomping on his head. (Both men later said the fight had nothing to do with Tamra.) Sheepskin walked alone to the hospital to get stitches, and McArthur went to stay at his aunt’s house a few blocks away. Though it should have been a short walk, he said he got lost and kept passing out as he walked there. He didn’t arrive for at least two hours, until 5 or 5:30 a.m. Meanwhile, Lorena got home around 3:15 or 3:30 a.m., climbed in through a window, and passed out on the couch. She said that she got up to undo the latch on the door for her mother around 8 or 9 a.m. and that the two eldest children, Summer and Rayne, left on their own in the morning to attend a summer day-camp. Lorena didn’t realize Tamra wasn’t there until about three hours later, when the five-year-old didn’t come downstairs. At 12:16 p.m., a family member called the police and told them Tamra was missing.

Rayne, who was eight, said he had gone to bed squeezed into the space between the wall and mattresses piled on the floor in an upstairs bedroom. He told his mother he felt Tamra get up at some point, the slight movement of a child’s weight. All he could remember was that it was light outside.

FRIDAY WAS hot again and wet from the previous night’s rain. An odour of decay hung in the air around Ottawa Street. Tamra had been gone three full days and become national news. Her picture seemed to be everywhere, hanging on street poles and store windows. In news stories, she became “missing five-year-old Tamra Keepness,” but more often she was just Tamra, as if we knew her. The front page of the Regina Leader-Post spoke directly to her, asking, “Tamra, Where Did You Go?”

Tips flooded in to police. On the street, there were rumours that Tamra had been seen at a dollar store with an older woman. Business owners in the neighbourhood said detectives had been looking for a middle-aged white man named Roch or Rocky, but police wouldn’t confirm whether that was related to the search. Lorena and McArthur said they gave police the names of five people they thought could be suspects, including a man who had befriended Tamra and later been discovered to be a pedophile. For a while, there was even a theory that Tamra had never existed at all, that she had been a scam to get extra money from Social Services. (Hospital records proved that was not the case.)

Searchers were coming from around the province to volunteer, streaming into the city from towns and First Nations communities, motivated by the faces of their own children or grandchildren to help in whatever way they could. “I’ve got a boy, and he’s twenty-one,” said Jerry Scott, one of the volunteers who joined the search. “And if he left, I’d go nuts, too.” Around the city, people organized vigils and barbecues, brought water and snacks for the searchers, wrapped ribbons around trees to show their support. Some left teddy bears and angels on the steps of Tamra’s house. Days of intensive searches had turned up lots of items that seemed as though they could be connected—clothing, a child’s shoe—but none of it belonged to Tamra. “I’m starting to go on different conclusions, like maybe someone took her, I don’t know,” Troy Keepness said. “I just hope nobody would hurt my daughter.”

WHEN Tamra had been gone a week, police announced they were suspending the ground searches. At a press conference, Regina police chief Cal Johnston announced a $25,000 reward for information and vowed, “We will find Tamra.” Police questioned sex offenders living in the area and obtained surveillance tapes from convenience stores, bars, gas stations, and the Greyhound bus depot nearby. Johnston confirmed that “criminal interference with Tamra is a distinct possibility” and drew attention back to Tamra’s house and family. “There were comings and goings from the house that night that remain not fully explained to our satisfaction, and we continue to ask those questions,” he told reporters. He would not elaborate.

Tamra’s family was growing increasingly angry at the police, and the strain of the situation was starting to show. Lorena told reporters she’d signed consent forms for police to search her house and had given her DNA, but still she felt as if they were focusing too much on her family and not enough on trying to find Tamra. She was angry that police hadn’t closed the highways out of the city and that there was no Amber Alert because police said it didn’t meet the criteria. “I’m fed up,” she told reporters. “They are wasting time. This is my little girl we’re talking about.”

The family was growing frustrated with the media, too. Lorena’s mother yelled obscenities at reporters one day, and on another, members of the family nearly came to blows with a TV reporter doing a live update from the front lawn. They had been watching the news inside the house when they heard the reporter imply what many in the city were already wondering: If not someone in that house, then who?

On July 19, two weeks after Tamra had been reported missing, police charged McArthur with assaulting Sheepskin the night Tamra disappeared. McArthur told reporters he had been interrogated for twenty hours, not about the assault, but about Tamra and about what had gone on inside the house that night. “It was always the same questions, and they were assuming that I knew the answers to those questions, but I didn’t know the answers, and I still don’t know the answers,” he said. “I would never hurt a hair on that little girl’s head.”

Two days later, Tamra’s brothers and sisters were removed from the home by child-protection officers. Tamra’s twin sister wore messy pigtails and clutched a colouring book and a yellow blanket as two women led the children away down the front steps of the house. Neither government officials nor police would say whether the children’s seizure was related to Tamra’s disappearance. When the children were gone, police searched the house again.

One night late that summer, Tamra’s father, Troy, showed up at the house with a baseball bat and confronted her stepfather, McArthur. Troy was charged with assault, though McArthur later said police “got things misunderstood.” “Everybody’s looking for answers,” he said. “We more or less talked.”

LORENA KEEPNESS was fourteen years old when she ran away from her home on the White Bear First Nation, 200 kilometres southeast of Regina. She had been in residential school for about three months, but that wasn’t what did it. For her, it was the same ugly stuff at home. She found her way to Regina. When her mom tried to take her home, Lorena wouldn’t go. She lived on the streets instead.

She had her daughter Summer Wind when she was twenty, her son Rayne Dance not long after. It was after the ultrasound for her third baby that she walked home in a daze and told her husband, Troy, “We’re having twins.” She kept repeating it until it sunk in, and then they just stood together in the kitchen and laughed. Her mother said “Way to go!” but Lorena told her, “They came from God. Not like I planted those in me.”

The babies were born on September 1, 1998. Fraternal twin girls, each weighing more than six pounds, carried almost right to term and curved around one another like pieces of a puzzle. Lorena and Troy split up when the twins were little, and after that, the girls stayed sometimes with their mother, sometimes with their father or with other relatives. Lorena and Troy each struggled with substance abuse, and their lives were sometimes too troubled and unstable to have the children with them. At five, Tamra was bold and courageous, and protective of her twin sister. Once, Lorena heard a soft knock in the middle of the night and opened the door to find the twins standing there. The children had left their father’s house and walked four blocks back to Lorena’s in the middle of the night, Tamra leading her sister by the hand as they found their way through the dark. REGINA POLICE received more than a thousand tips in the first six weeks after Tamra’s disappearance. At one point, a Volkswagen van that had been stolen the night Tamra disappeared was found burned outside the city. A jail guard told police she and a former inmate had stolen it, picked up Tamra, and then dumped the child’s body in a ravine on the Muscowpetung First Nation. Ron Weir led a week-long search on Muscowpetung, draining multiple beaver dams with compressor pumps, while searchers slogged through water up to their hips. The jail guard later confessed she had made up the story. She was charged with mischief and wrote a letter apologizing to the police. In court, her lawyer said she had been trying to get her abusive boyfriend locked up again.

Returning from medical leave to the police department in the fall of 2004, superintendent Troy Hagen could feel how Tamra’s disappearance was weighing on his colleagues. Hagen noticed it in everyone he spoke to, from the police chief down, whether they were involved with the case or not. Sergeant Rod Buckingham, one of the lead investigators, was among those who felt the growing frustration. “It’s a mystery,” he would say. “And I don’t like mysteries.”

Officers had spoken with more than 6,000 people by then, but there had been no arrests, and leads were drying up. Shortly after, a special task force was struck to re-examine the case, to see whether anything had been missed. The name of the project was iskwesis ayishowak e mamayahi, a Cree term meaning “little girl bring people together.”

TWELVE YEARS LATER, Lorena Keepness spends her days doing odd jobs and picking bottles, trading them in at the depot for cash. She is forty-three and lives with her eldest son in a rundown shack of a house on Victoria Avenue, a fifteen-minute walk from Ottawa Street. Lorena’s children were never permanently returned to her custody after the disappearance, and the three babies she had after that were all taken by Social Services, too. Tamra’s twin sister is seventeen now. Lorena says she is an athlete, smart and beautiful. Lorena lost her family pictures when someone threw all her stuff in the garbage a few years ago. The only photos she has of Tamra now are the ones on missing-child posters.

Tamra’s twin and her older sister, Summer, don’t want to be interviewed. Neither does Tamra’s father, Troy. McArthur couldn’t be reached. Lorena needs a six-pack of Black Ice beer to talk. She doesn’t really want to be interviewed either. She has never liked reporters or their questions, and it hurts to talk about that time. “But part of me wants to,” she says, as her face crumples. “Part of me needs to share what the fuck happened. Someone stole my child.”

Lorena has heard many theories about what happened to her daughter. Some believe Tamra wandered away and was abducted by a driver cruising the area or that she got lost, then crawled in somewhere so small she has never been found. Other theories focus on the adults in the house that night. Some officers will say off-the-record that they think Tamra is in the dump but that they just couldn’t find her in the mountains of debris. Many in the city believe that Lorena and McArthur sold or traded Tamra to pay off a cocaine debt. Lorena has heard that one the most. One night, she was at a bar and heard some women talking, loud enough so she could hear. “Yeah, she sold her kid for dope. She has a whole bunch of babies. She has kids just to sell them for drugs.” Her friend told her not to listen, but Lorena couldn’t ignore it. She swore at the women, promised she would get them for even thinking she could do that to her child. They met at the same bar again the next day, and that time they fought, a tangle of hair and fists. One of them had a knife and slashed her twice on the back of her arm. More scars to wear for life. It wasn’t the only time. One night, she was attacked in Moose Jaw. Not long ago, a woman shouted “Baby killer!” at her across the street.

Lorena and Dean McArthur are still together, on and off—“more on than off,” she says. Police tried hard to turn them against each other, but she always believed him in the end. He may be all kinds of things, she says, but he’s not a baby killer. “If I thought he did something to my daughter, I would have killed him myself,” she says. “I think the police were just so sure. They figured, ‘These guys are a bunch of nobodies. She did her own child.’ They already had their conclusions drawn before they even tried to look for anything.”

The suggestion she could have had something to do with her daughter’s disappearance still pushes Lorena to the point of violence. You can see her eyes flash, her muscles tighten at the question. But she holds back— it’s not worth going to jail. She’s had enough of the police, has grown used to the accusations. In the past twelve years, she’s repeated her story publicly many times, and it has never really changed.

REGINA POLICE have never released full details about the investigation into Tamra’s disappearance, on the grounds that it remains an open case that they still hope to solve. In an interview, Troy Hagen, now Regina’s police chief, would not speak about any working theories or confirm any specifics of the investigation, including whether one of the people questioned about Tamra’s disappearance had failed a polygraph test. Instead, Hagen echoed what police have said since the beginning: That there remain important unanswered questions about the comings and goings from the house on Ottawa Street that night. That they will continue to investigate every tip. That they won’t stop looking for Tamra until they find her. He pointed to cases in the United States where children have been gone for years, sometimes decades, and then been found alive. In Canada, twelve-year-old Abby Drover was held in an underground bunker in Port Moody, British Columbia, for six months after being abducted by her neighbour in 1976. There was an intensive search of her community—including by her abductor—but she had been only feet away from her house the entire time. She was found alive. It seems impossible, but it happens. “I refuse to lose hope,” Hagen says.

The years since Tamra’s disappearance have exposed the epidemic of missing and murdered Indigenous women in Canada. Suspected serial killers are facing charges in the Prairies, but there has been no public indication that Tamra’s disappearance may be connected to any of those cases. Hagen said police have also explored a possible connection with thirteen-year-old Courtney Struble, who disappeared from Estevan, a city 200 kilometres from Regina, four days after Tamra was last seen. Investigators initially believed that Struble was a runaway, and she had been gone for seven years before RCMP announced that her case had become a homicide investigation. No one has ever been charged, and her remains have never been located. Hagen says it’s strange to have two unsolved missing-children cases linked so closely in time and geographic proximity. He says the possibility of a connection was “very much” explored by police, but there doesn’t appear to be a correlation. The police investigation into Tamra’s disappearance is one of the largest and costliest in Regina’s history, but Hagen says it has never been about the money. If there were more leads or work for investigators, the police chief says he would reconvene the task force “in a heartbeat.” But the flood of tips has slowed. The reward for information that leads to finding her, now $50,000, sits unclaimed. The last public development came in November 2014, when a Reddit user with the name MySecretIsOut posted a scrawled map with the words: “Location of Tamra Keepness, check the wells.” The person later wrote that the map belonged to their grandmother and had come from a great-aunt who had visited an inmate in Alberta. “We, like many others, haven’t forgotten about you, Tamra, and continue to search and hope you are found,” the person posted. Police searched twenty-one wells around Muscowpetung but found nothing.

Sheepskin died on January 1, 2009, “with his family by his side,” according to his obituary. Many of the police officers who worked on Tamra’s case have retired or moved from the department to other jobs. Hagen says he thinks of Tamra whenever he is walking through the forest, not looking for her but always half expecting to see her there. Sometimes he looks at people he passes on the street, examining their faces and imagining what Tamra might look like now.

THROUGH THE YEARS, Lorena has developed her own theories about what happened to her daughter. These days, she mainly wonders about a drifter who used to stay with them, a woman Lorena knew from when she was a girl. A woman who sometimes told people she was pregnant even though she wasn’t, who Lorena knew by one name but whose medical documents said something else. The woman was around so much that Lorena’s children called her Big Auntie. Big Auntie had been staying at the house before Tamra disappeared, but left after she and Lorena had a falling out. Lorena says it took a long time to realize Big Auntie wasn’t coming around any more. When she did, she put word out on the streets, but no one there had seen her either. Big Auntie didn’t even show up for her own sister’s funeral in Regina a few years back. Lorena says she told the police about Big Auntie many times, but doesn’t know whether they ever found her, or whether they even looked. “She’s just gone now,” Lorena says. “Same time as my child.” Maybe it’s something. Or maybe Big Auntie is missing, too.

When I ask Lorena whether she thinks Tamra will ever be found, she struggles for an answer. “I don’t know,” she says. “But can I tell you about a dream I had?” There are two, both so vivid it’s as if they were real. In one, Tamra is inside a big house in a city Lorena has never seen. There are silk clothes draped around, and broad windows, and Tamra is upstairs, sitting on the edge of a bathtub putting on stockings. She is grown, with dark, shiny hair like her mother’s but cut straight all around. In the other dream, Tamra is still a little girl, running into her mother’s arms. “There you are!” Lorena says. “There you are!” She picks up her child and holds her, until Tamra wriggles free and is lost again.

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hopesangelsprite · 4 years ago

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Sin City | KSJ (1/?)

Pairing: Demon!Receptionist!Seokjin x Reader

Summary: In a world were angels and demons co-exist with humans, an angel meets the most beautiful yet dangerous demon in the world... her brother’s bestfriend. (Slight crack tbh)

There were three kinds of people in this world:

Angels. Demons. And Humans.

Angels were pure-hearted, kind souls who spent their days bringing joy and purpose to peoples’ lives. They were generous and caring, but, most importantly, they were accepting. No matter who or what you were, they didn’t care. They loved you all the same.

Demons, however, were opposites of Angels. They were known for causing mischief and discord. The nights and shadowy places were where they thrived the most. They were top-notch manipulators, whispering lies and truths here and there. Making it impossible to tell which was which.

Humans were just… in between. They were neither good nor bad. They could be moral when they wanted to be, but if they wanted something and you stood in their way, they proved to be incredibly ruthless. The lives of Humans tended to be influenced by the people they lived with. A Human, who was around more angelic folk, was more compassionate and benign. Humans who held the company of the more demonic sort were mostly cruel and malevolent.

Cadence King was born a pureblooded Angel to Nicolai and Charity King during the Winter Solstice of 2002. Unlike her dark-haired and brown-eyed parents, she had snow-white curls and mismatched blue and green eyes. Her mother, who had been told that she was physically incapable of bearing a child and thought that her caring Cadence was a miracle from Heaven above, was ecstatic when she held her tiny baby girl for the first time. The couple vowed to raise her as lovingly as they possibly could.

And they did… until a fateful summers night in Daegu stole them away from this world. Mr. and Mrs. King had been killed in a mugging, leaving poor little Cadence orphaned and alone on the night of her fifth birthday. There were no living relatives to take her in, so she was placed into foster care with the Min family.

The Mins were a four people family that consisted of Mr. Min, Mrs. Min, and their sons, Junki and Yoongi. Although the Mins were Demons, they accepted Cadence into their family and treated her like she was their own. Junki and Yoongi, who were 17 and 15 at the time, watched over her as overprotective brothers tend to do. They taught her all kinds of Martial Arts and made sure that she was able to defend herself when it was time for them to leave for college a few years later.

Mr. and Mrs. Min focused all of their time and resources on Cadence’s training and studies after their youngest son, Yoongi, left to study music in the city. They raised her to be a responsible and thoughtful child. She was obedient, kind, and beloved by all who knew her. As she grew older, she remained well-mannered and intelligent. Soon, it would be time for her to leave home just as her brothers before her had.

* TIME SKIP TO PRESENT DAY / THE REST OF THE STORY WILL BE IN CADENCE’S POV *

I stared out the train’s large window in boredom. Trees and meadows passed by in green blurs as we zoomed through the countryside. Earlier this morning, my mother and father had helped me finish packing my suitcases and put me on the train with sweet goodbye, from my mom, and a stern ‘be careful’, from my dad. I had finally turned 18 a week ago, and mom and dad made a phone call to Yoongi asking if I would be able to stay with him in Seoul. He’d agreed and now I was 15 minutes away from seeing the brother I hadn’t seen in 10 years. Yoongi had left on bad terms and he promised to stay away until he was ready to come home. Yoongi was always good at keeping his promises.

I sighed before unlocking my phone and checking my recent messages. As usual, they were filled with threats from my crazy ex I’d dated when I was 16. It started pretty well until he hit me. He promised he’d never do it again, but he did over and over and over again. After the eighth time, I left him for good and told him that if he ever came near again, he’d have my brothers to deal with. He stayed away physically but continued to threaten me to come back to him.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we’ll be arriving at Seoul National Station in five minutes. I repeat, five minutes.”, the voice of the elderly conductor informed from above. As if on cue, a message from Yoongi came through saying that he wouldn’t be picking me up because of his daily 3:45 nap. I rolled my eyes and began readying myself for the exit soon to come.

Within the next ten minutes, I was in a cab on my way to Yoongi’s. The city of Seoul was beautiful and diverse in many ways. Groups of Angels, Demons, and Humans socialized amongst each other peacefully. Street performers attracted cheering crowds and healthy tips. Food trucks and venues filled areas with delicious smells and dishes. A small bit of happiness filled my chest. This was my new home!

Soon the cab stopped at a luxury condo in the heart of the city. After paying my fare, I collected my things and made my way inside. At the front desk, a beautiful receptionist sat quietly clicking on the keys of his keyboard. I walked to the desk causing him to lift his head and display a million-dollar smile. “Hello, love. Welcome to Seoul Condominiums, how may I help you today?”, he inquired in a velvety voice. “Hi… Seokjin! I-I’m here to see my brother Min Yoongi.”, I responded softly after reading his nametag receiving a nod from him.

He picked up a sleek black phone from the desk and, after punching in a few numbers, put it to his ear. After a short wait, he spoke into the phone. “Hello, Mr. Min!... Your sister is here to see you. Shall I send her up?... Of course, Mr. Min.”, he spoke. Giving me a bright smile, he put the phone back and smiled. “Up you go, love. He’s in suite 777.”, he informed before helping me into the elevator. After a short ride, I found myself in front of a door that had the number ‘777’ in beautiful gold font displayed on it. I knocked but received no answer. I raised my hand to knock again, but as soon as my fist collided with the door, it slightly opened.

I frowned in confusion and worry before opening it fully and dragging my luggage in. I looked around in the beautifully furnished condo, hoping to catch a glimpse of my older brother. “Hello? Yoongi? Where are you?!”, I called out whilst taking a step forward. The hairs on my neck stood to attention and adrenaline filled my veins. I quickly sidestepped, narrowly avoiding being tackled by a dark hooded figure. I dropped to the ground and put my knee on the person’s chest before unmasking them.

Underneath me laid a very pale and very proud male. “Looks like you maintained your training pretty well, little one.”, Yoongi drawled out in a voice that I didn’t recognize. I stood and assisted him in getting to his feet before taking his face in my hands. I gazed at the boy who used to have chubby cheeks and horrible acne. Now his face was strong and defined with pale, clear skin. He was a bit taller, too.

“Who are you and what have you done with my Yoonie?”, I asked with a soft smile. He chuckled before pulling me into a warm hug. “I missed you too, little one.”, he cooed. I sighed with content before pulling away smacking his arm and glaring. “Don’t ever try to scare me again. I could’ve hurt you, bro.”, I demanded causing him to chuckle and roll his eyes.

After picking up my luggage for me and leading to my new room, Yoongi helped me unpack my stuff. It went relatively fast mostly because I didn’t have a lot of stuff. I sat on my bed and looked around. The room was twice as large as my old bedroom with a connecting bathroom. Yoongi had had it painted baby blue, and he’d personally hung little cotton clouds from the ceiling that glowed a soft blue. He’d gotten me a large California King canopy bed with white curtains and a blue bed set to match the walls. He’d even installed Tik Tok lights!

“You did this all on your own?”, I asked. He nodded and sat in the hanging egg chair across from my bed. “I had a little help from a friend with choosing the color scheme, but it was mostly me. I don’t know if mom and dad told you this, but I’m gonna spoil the hell out of you here. Just a small warning before.”, he spoke proudly. I chuckled and nodded.

Suddenly, a familiar voice called out, “Come out, you sleepy bastard! I brought you food that I slaved over, so you better be hungry.”. Yoongi stood and pulled me up afterward before dragging me into the spacious living area. There stood the handsome receptionist from earlier. Instead of his work attire, he was dressed in black ripped jeans and a pastel pink button up. His hair had changed, too. The blonde tresses had been transformed from a sleek and elegant look to messy bangs that screamed danger.

Upon our entrance, he glared at Yoongi. “There you are! Boy, do I have words for you. Did you make your sister carry all that heavy shit from the train station?! I know damn good and well I raised a gentleman and most definitely not a fool!”, he raved angrily. Yoongi muttered something along the lines of ‘loud-mouth ass’ causing the blonde to pause his rant and look at Yoongi with wild and incredulous eyes. “Did… did you just BACKTALK ME?!! AH HELL NAH! UH UH! NO! NOT TODAY! I’M FINNA WHOOP YO ASS RIGHT NOW!!!”, he snapped before setting the bags down and lunging at my brother.

I stepped aside and watched as he put my brother in a chokehold whilst pulling his hair. “Cadence! Help! Me!”, Yoongi managed to choke out causing his attacker to look around until his eyes met mine. He paused before dropping my brother and approaching me. “I’m so sorry you had to witness that, love! I’m Seokjin, by the way. Welcome to Sin City on behalf of me! Let’s have lunch together sometime!”, he spoke before reaching down to grasp my hand before pressing a kiss to it.

What the actual fuck had I gotten myself into?

(A/N):

Should I turn this into a series? Lemme know if I should!! Please like, share, and comment your thoughts!

#bts #bts fic #bts au fanfic #bts ambw #ambw #crack fic #demon au #bts crack #crack #angel #jin #bts jin

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wevegottogetaway · 4 years ago

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Whirlwind Part I - Mistral

DAY 0

Time seems to slow down but the speedometer on Aella's Triumph says otherwise. As the needle flirts with the 124mph mark, it's hard to tell wether she's the one chasing after the wind or the other way around. Miles after miles, her beloved motorbike swallows up the empty road offering itself before her, almost begging her to throw speed limits cautions to the wind. Speed has no secret for Aella though. Brown eyes steady on the asphalt, her focus is unswerving. Yet, she's never felt more free and insouciant.

Except maybe when she's flying.

In the tight confine of her Tomcat, as she defies other kinds of laws, Aella seeps in a whole new world. One where she makes her own physics, her own rules. One where the sky in no longer a limit and neither is her gender. Because when she occupies the cockpit of the F-14 - a baby only a handful of aviators are lucky to even sit in - she's just that: an aviator. A squadron unit who receives missions and completes them. Once her feet tread the tarmac though, the reality is quickly sobering. That's why Aella has learnt to savor each one of the limited hours she spends in the in-between realm of the stratosphere.

Tilting her head briefly to look at the clear sky above her, Aella lets a smile grace her lips as she realizes she'll be back up there very soon. And in high amounts at that. A few years ago, she could have only dreamt to be recruited as part of the most elitist of naval aviation programs in the world. But after years of working twice as hard as her fellow Navy fighter pilots and putting up with their never-ending bullying, her resilience has finally paid off. The memory of their crest-fallen faces when their Commander announced her promotion in front of them all is still one of her favorite. And on that note, they can respectfully kiss her ass.

Maybe it was fate, or maybe it was just life. But no matter how serendipitous the death of Navy fighter Jonathan Evans, she'll be the one taking his place in the US Navy's Fighter Weapons School's Top Gun program. It was a regrettable news but one that changed Aella's destiny forever.

San Diego's sun is just as blazing as LA's, but the nice breeze the city benefits from neighboring the ocean makes it easier to breath. The streets are void of the usual hustle and bustle that inhabits the city of angels, but the palm-trees-lined streets seem to remain a consistent feature of the Californian landscape.

After driving in two hours what should have been a three hours ride, Aella finally pulls up in front of a single-story condominium situated on the street that runs alongside the shore. Taking in the magical scenery that surrounds her new place, she finds herself standing front row for the sun's crepuscular show.

Aella has always loved sunsets. She fell in love with their ephemeral hues when she was 7 and already wanted to make the sky hers. At 25 years of age, they now serve as a reminder that regardless of the fact she knows it like the back of her hand, the blue immensity still withholds secrets that are meant to remain forever's mysteries.

Aella finally makes her way to her new home and her eyes immediately fall on the three large boxes that she had sent from LA the week prior, as per US Navy's request. Waiting for her on the floor, they seem quite a bit lonely in the otherwise empty room. The place is small but designed well enough to be comfortable. The L-shape kitchen directly on the right upon entrance shares one main open space with the living room and dining room, though the term "room" is to be taken loosely. Mostly, they consist of a dining table placed in the center, and a sofa facing a TV set at the back. Between the two, french doors lead the way to a small garden; just enough space for a sun lounger and a small outdoor table.

Aella doesn't expect to be around much as most of her days will be spent at the training center, but as she starts unpacking, she can already picture herself living there anyway. Early runs on the beach, morning coffees out with the birds chirping the news of the day and some lazy reading on the lounger when she's lucky to have a day off. That night, as she lays on her bed waiting to be taken in Morpheus' arms, Aella relishes in the jitters of happiness that course through her veins.

She can't remember the last time she was so impatient for tomorrows.

DAY 1

To say the San Diego Fighter Weapons School's campus is huge would be an understatement. Aella has been on plenty bases during her short naval aviator career, but they all pale in comparison with the three massive hangars standing ahead of her. Deeply rooted on these holy grounds, they serve as home for no less than 30 of the most powerful aircrafts ever designed in the world. Perched on her Triumph, Aella can't help but slow to a more moderate speed as she drives past them. She can feel her heart bouncing in joy at the sight of the F-14 Tomcats, F/A-18 Hornets and F-16 Fighting Falcons neatly aligned like pawns on a chessboard ready to be pressed into service.

Finally, the main buildings come into view. They house all the administration offices as well as lecture and conference rooms. Indeed, part of the Top Gun program takes place indoors (that is, not in a cockpit) as trainees are taught advanced combat strategy, theories of air-to-air and air-to-ground missions, and most painful of all, the riveting matters of astrophysics. In addition to their scientific knowledge and flying skills, the recruits will also be tested on their physical fitness.

That's what Aella dreads the most. While she could probably recite all of Newton's laws in her sleep and fly a supersonic twin-engine, variable-sweep wing fighter aircraft with an arm in a cast, she's positive the physical examination is what might give her the most trouble. Not that she's in bad shape. Obviously one has to be quite fit to be able to handle 25 tons of titanium rocketed at more than 1500mph. But alas, the minimum requirements generated by the State for the final physical examination have yet to be adapted to female dispositions.

The military field has definitely still plenty of room left for improvement when it comes to women's interests...

Two men in their service uniforms are casually conversing in the parking lot when Aella pulls up with her Triumph. One seems to be in the middle of a thrilling story judging by his gesticulating limbs, while the other listens to him, cigarette pinched between his lips. As soon as the latter's eyes fall on Aella though, he interrupts his friend with two taps on his torso. The shock on his face quickly turns into a condescending smirk as his eyes shamefully scan Aella from head to toe. His friend turns around intrigued and it's not long before his features mirror the same irksome smug.

For a few seconds too many, Aella doesn't react. She simply stares at the jerks standing a few feet from her like they might be two very realistic-looking hallucinations. A sick jock her brain is playing on her by materializing ghosts from her past when she's least expecting them. Aella doesn't know who she's the most angry at: Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum for looking at her like she's a hot commodity or herself because she'd actually thought it wouldn't happen here.

It takes all of her self-control and then some to keep her from rushing over and giving them a piece of her mind. Instead she just swallows back the crude remarks she's dying to throw at them and puts her uniform cap on. Maybe there weren't checking her out but the Triumph behind her instead. Maybe she just bumped into the two assholes of the program. Maybe the 13 other recruits will turn out to be actual decent human beings who acknowledge women's worth in the Navy and will treat her as an equal. Aella tries to keep the positive thoughts coming as she heads towards the main building for the induction speech.

Still, she can't help the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The effervescence of the conference room is almost palpable as loud chatter and boisterous laughters bounce off its walls. Taking in the glorious sight of her fellow trainees, Aella already feels like an outsider. Easily distinguished by their uniform, they're all bantering like they've all known each other their entire life, even though the program hasn't officially started.

From afar she recognizes the two morons from the parking lot, sitting on tables as they're gathered around a balky blond man completely sprawled out on a chair with aviator sunglasses tucked in the front of his kaki shirt. Because of his lazy posture, he has to look up at his disciples but it is clear that he's the last person to be looked down on.

Aella already despises the narcissistic vibe he exudes. That disdainful and self-assured attitude which makes her want to rip his stupid head off. It's certainly not the first of his kind she's had to partially work with and sadly, it will definitely not be the last.

"Oi, Rex! How's it goin' man?" Another block yaps.

"Snyder," Rex chuckled. "'Was doin' good till ya ugly face showed up"

"Ah, 's not what the ladies say..." Snyder replies, completely unfazed by the playful dig made at him.

"That's cause you woo them drunk, you bastard." The whole group of them burst in laughters as Snyder rolls his eyes.

"Speaking of lass, I heard there was a bird joining the ranks with us? 'S up with that?"

Aella immediately stiffens as she hears the dreaded words. Ones that make it crystal clear she's gonna be the odd one out right from the start. Not to be mistaken, Aella takes great pride in being one of the very few female fighter pilots of the US Navy but all the self-confidence in the world couldn't amount to the loneliness she always feels on base. Amongst the 'mates', she's never more than a fellow recruit, watching from afar her colleagues' relationships blossoming from mere work affiliations to ones of brotherhood.

Finally making her way to the last seat available in the audience, Aella feels the energies in the room drastically shift. Voices are no longer clashing in rowdiness; instead, the air is charged by the intensity of the quiet stares following her silhouette. However, the silence is interrupted by the sound of a flirtatious whistle that does no wonder for her already-tested nerves. God does she hate men sometimes.

"Well, well, well...look at that guys. I think the eagle has landed its cute ass down."

Aella is about to pop a knuckle from how hard she's clenching her fists. How foolishly naive she was to believe that things would be different. That joining Top Gun with the 'best of the best' would give her solace from the incessant chauvinistic behaviors she'd been so used to. If anything, the prestige of their accomplishments has exacerbated the arrogant disposition of their ego-inflated character.

Aella knows better than to respond though. No matter how quick-witted the comeback, it never works in her favor. So once again, she just takes a deeper breath and settles in her seat facing forwards. She is saved from hearing more about her eagle ass by two impressive figures marching in the room towards the front. Postures straighten, smirks vanish and a de facto silence ensues at the officers' arrival. Respect is almost tangible in the air, and it has little to nothing to do with the plethora of decorations adorning their white uniforms, and everything to do with the aura of invincibility transpiring in their intimidating gaze.

"Gentlemen," one of them starts before tilting his head towards Aella and adding a soft "ladies." He then proceeds with a quick scan of the room. Years of experience standing on that very same stage have forged the unyielding yet somewhat benevolent eyes landed on the students' expecting faces.

"You were probably told that you were here because you are the best of the best. Well, let me set things straight: you're not. Not yet anyway. You might be lieutenants out there, but on these grounds, you are nothing but students. My job, is to make you unbeatable up there. Your job, is to trust me in doing so. That means no challenging orders and no cocky attitude or any funny business. If you respect that, you might have your name on one of these plaques in 5 weeks. Until then, work your hardest. My name is Aaron Berks and I will be your Commander. Everyone, welcome to Top Gun."

Commander Berks offers a light smile to his audience, and Aella has a feeling it's not a sight she will be privy to very often. She likes him though. He seems intransigeant but wise, proud but not arrogant and no matter how cold his exterior, he has the warmth of a master who looks after his apprentice. A caring facet that resembles that of fatherhood, and Aella knows she'll be able to trust Berks just like he asked in his introduction speech.

After a brief silence, the class' attention is once again captured by one of the officer. Taller and bulkier, this one is definitely missing that fatherly vibe Aella is so found of. "Gentlemen, I am Lieutenant Commander Wayne Rogers, I will teach you the art of naval strategy in flight combat alongside Commander Berks. You will also have the pleasure to have me whip your asses in physical testing. As you know, Top Gun is structured around 3 ranges of expertise, namely: naval strategy both in theory and practice, advanced astrophysics knowledge and physical training. Needless to say, you will be tested in more ways than one. And just a heads-up, I don't do no favor. To anyone."

Aella cringes for a second as she wonders if there is any implicit lines to read behind Lieutenant Rogers' clipped tone. She already dreads the time she will have to spend under his teaching. She doesn't have the time to dwell on it though, before Rogers resumes his speech. "Anyway, enough with the pretty words, let's go over the program. As you know, the 16 of you will form 8 crews who will be confronting each other and us instructors to master advanced dogfighting tactics. Each of the 25 missions you will be assigned during the program will earn you points. Your aptitudes in physical training will also earn you point, as well as your results in astrophysics evaluations. I'm sure you can guess who wins the Top Gun trophy at the end of the program. Bear in mind, that all instructors have the right to deduct points from your score should they deem your actions or behavior disrespectful, underserving or quite simply unacceptable. On that note, welcome to Top Gun, class dismissed."

As soon as Lieutenant Rogers voices the discharging words, the room is once again caught in a rambunctious nebula of clacks and clatters. Everyone is making their way out when the commander's voice transcends the ongoing commotion; steady and resonant.

"Officers Styles and Lonethorne."

Aella's brows immediately wrinkle as she recognizes her last name. Turning around, she sees Commander Berks intently looking at her as if beckoning her over. Obediently she makes her way up to the front of the room where Berks hasn't moved an inch since the beginning of the induction. Soon she realizes she's being followed by a tall lanky man. His face, objectively handsome, doesn't seem to show any emotion but Aella doesn't have much time to further study his features as she finally reaches her commander.

"I wanted to welcome you both personally given the circumstances. Styles, you have my support and condolences. Lieutenant Evans was a very fine man and gifted flyer." Aella is a bit thrown off by the declaration. It takes her an extra second to figure out the reason of her presence for this discussion. Once she does, her attention is immediately drawn to the silent man standing next to her, his face still not displaying any feelings, as though his skin was made of cold marble.

"Harry, this is Aella Lonethorne. Her former chief has nothing but praises to say about her flying skills. She will be your partner for the next 5 weeks." A nod and the brief connection of his emeralds to Aella's sapphires seems to be all the assertion elicited from Harry. No handshake, no hello, not even the pucker of a brow. Commander Berks might as well have announced the refectory's lunch menu, the lad's reaction would have been the same.

"Miss Lonethorne, it's a pleasure to have you on base, I have no doubts you two will achieve great things together." It is such a relief for Aella to realize her first impression of Berks was spot on. He is the kind of manager that leads with strength in his fists but encouraging lyrics on the edge of his lips. There is no hint of condescension fueled by the power high of his status, coloring the tone of his voice. It's something Aella has seen a few times. Pleasant comrades turned into aloof leaders full of bitterness from their years of submission and laden by the hierarchy's expectations. Commander Berks never yielded to that pressure though, it was clear in his wholesome nature.

"Thank you Commander, it's a real honor." Aella responds in genuineness.

"Alright, I'll leave you to it. See you both on the tarmac" he exclaims with a smile before making his way out. Berks departure leaves enough room for tension to settle between the newfound partners like a third interlocutor taking the warmed place of their superior.

Harry is still keeping mum, unfocused eyes staring somewhere far off on the floor while his mind appeared to be wandering the secret passages of never-never land. It freaks the hell out of Aella though she doesn't show it. They are a team now. They're supposed to trust, rely on each other and have the other's back no matter what. Yet, she doesn't even know the sound of his voice and it doesn't seem like he's gonna give her the time of day anytime soon.

Aella is about to speak up when Harry suddenly shakes his head out of its hypnotic trance. For a second she thinks he's gonna initiate conversation himself but instead he just tilts his head in her general direction and rasps a weak 'see you' before storming off the room. Aella is left in total disarray, she doesn't comprehend why he's acting like a 3 year-old running off because he's scared to say hi to the postman. Is it because she's not what he expected in a partner? God she hopes not. He doesn't strike her as a misogynistic prick, didn't really show any sign of disgust or clear animosity. But then again he was impossible to read.

After exiting the teaching building and mounting her precious Triumph, Aella feels the dread resurfacing. It is such a big contrast to how she felt when she left this morning. All the thrill and elation that had bubbled in the pits of her stomach just evaporated into disillusion, leaving a fog of uncertainty in Aella's frenzied mind. This was supposed to be a drama-free experience; a chance to be recognized and treated with respect.

Instead she got barely acknowledged.

The music coming out of Godspeed's is so resoundingly loud Aella can feel the bass line thumping through her whole body. Standing across the street from the entrance, she's still hesitating joining in the merrymaking even though she can hear the spirits calling out her name. Despite the crispiness of the air, a few rowdy souls are camping out front, obviously warmed over by the substance in their glass and the nicotine stick between their lips.

The dodgy pub never lacks in visitors no matter how threadbare the furniture, tacky the decoration and questionable the sanitation prove to be. Truth be told, the popularity of the place can be explain by one and sole reason: it is, lo and behold, the only bar on base. A fact that implies 99% of its customer base works in the US Navy, and thus explains why one could usually count on one hand the number of people dressed in day-to-day clothes.

Bracing herself, Aella finally makes her way inside the bar. The smell of booze and fries immediately invades her nostrils but she pays it no mind. Instead she takes in her surroundings from the swaying of hips on the torrid dance floor to tokens passionately thrown at a table with a pair of aces following. The sound of glasses clinking blends with that of drunken laughters and even drunker squawks. It's nothing but good times and pent-up stress release, and for a moment Aella is really glad she decided to show up. She was told Induction's Rave was not to be skipped.

Unfortunately, as she heads for the bar, Aella's eyes fall upon a few familiar yet loathsome faces. It appears the infamous Rex and his phony clique didn't want to miss out on the festivities either. Much to Aella's dismay, they are all huddled around the counter monopolizing the bartender's attention and just like that, she knows a relaxing time is not in her cards for tonight. There is no way she can walk out of this with both a drink in her hand and her composure intact. It would be too easy.

Strategically, she waits till the barman is done with them before voicing her request as inconspicuously as she can. "May I have a Vodka Martini, please?" she asks just as the bartender lifts his eyes from the counter he was wiping. She originally went for a pint but somehow she had an inkling it wouldn't quite suffice. The guy nods and leaves to mix her precious elixir but just as she thinks she might make it through unscathed, the obnoxious voice she has come to strongly despise cuts through the pub's damp air.

"Gotta stop trying to play James Bond, darling. S'just not for you." Snickers. "Now, James Bond girl on the other hand, you definitely have the proper assets for that." Once again, every guy within Rex's arm radius bursts into insipid laughter as the mockery tumbled out of his mouth. She doesn't have to look his way to picture the disgusting smirk he must be sporting. Jerk.

From the corner of her eye, Aella recognizes the lonesome lad sat at the far end of the bar, nursing a Bourbon with tinted cheeks and glossy irises. There is no doubt he's in a slightly inebriated state but his participative chuckle still stings. Maybe even more so than Rex's offensive words for Harry is supposed to be her closest ally. She doesn't expect him to jump to her defense, wouldn't want him to anyway, but she's profoundly disappointed he would find such humor in someone degrading her that way. The thought angers her so much, she doesn't realize Harry is actually showing some kind of emotion at last. It's not the one she wanted anyhow; not when it's at her expense.

She's handed her drink before Rex speaks up again. "You think you can just sweep in and fight the bad guys with your pretty hair and 5 pounds muscles? I mean, come on darling, you're not meant for the job." She'd started to walk away at first but Rex's lousy rant makes her halt in a sudden. "Just sit and look pretty like the others. Or fucking teach. You know what they say, right? Those who can't, teach... Anything but the fucking Navy, yeah? We have enough wannabes as it is."

Deep breath. Tight fist. Down the Vodka. Then she turns around and marches up to him, armed with daggers in her eyes and a punch away from feeling better. She doesn't hit him though. Has more dignity and self-control than that. "You should really consider shutting your goddamn mouth before I show you just what I can or can't do." Aella's tone is cold; colder than the marble of Harry's face from earlier that day.

As she expects, they don't take her seriously and giggles erupt all around her. "Darling, I really wouldn't mind," is what he replies with a suggestive lip bite and a smug that rivals her scowl in intensity. He's dangerously toying with her last nerve and he knows it. Deliberately exploits it in the hopes of seeing her explode and then crumble into pieces. That's how Aella knows she has the upper hand. She knows how guys like him work, what gets them going and their tactics to achieve that, but Rex has no clue what she's like. He's deluding himself into thinking he's pushing her break-down button when in reality he's in for something else.

Nobody knows that yet, except maybe Harry.

As a quiet and incredibly guarded individual, Harry proves to be a tremendous observer. It might come off as standoffish though he doesn't mean to, but those who matter know and have accepted just how introverted his nature is. He knows he probably should have made an effort and better impression on his new copilot but the wound from his best friend's loss is still too fresh to be bothered. They'll get to talk soon enough anyway, is what he thought. Plus she didn't really go out of her way to make an impression herself, did she?

Now though, observing the sour interaction from afar, Harry's starting to think differently. He shrugged at Rex's crude remarks, already used to the block's insolence and admittedly amused at the childish antics. But as he becomes more attentive to Aella's shifting stance, it is obvious to him that she's not a person to ever take shit from anybody.

His suspicions are proved right when Aella slowly closes the few steps between her and Rex until her eyes level with his. "Oh Rex. The thing with guys like you, is you feel powerful because power was handed to you on a silver fucking platter." All the while talking, she moves to remove his hold from his glass. "I could have pity for you, really. You think you're good; you must even think you're the best but you're nothing more than a selfish privileged opportunistic prick who feels entitled to walk over anyone who won't fucking bow down before you." Then she chucks the rest of his Whiskey in one swallow and places the empty glass back on top of the counter next to them.

"Oh yeah?" Rex smirks as he watches her face closely, casually leaning on the bar. It works in her favor as he fails to notice her hand creeping around his own. Then the next thing he knows is a tremendous throb shooting from the joint between his thumb and index, all the way through his arm and up to his neck. The pain is seizing and has him doubled up like it is suddenly to painful to even stand straight.

Aella has never been more glad to learn a thing or two about pressure points.

"Yeah. And I might be smaller than you or less of a weightlifter than you are, but I can still bring you down wherever and whenever I want to. Don't you forget that." He's almost kneeling by now, arm twisted in a weird angle from where she's still applying pressure on his hand. Rex's acolytes seem to have lost their voice and giggles as they're all taking in the sudden reversal of the situation. They have probably never seen Rex in such a submissive position, hence the dazed expression of stupor plastered on their faces.

Aella finally releases the whimpering man at her feet. She's about to make her way out but she stops herself. "Oh and one more thing. You're cocky, and vile, and despicable. And one day, probably too late, you'll realize your arrogance is what will fail you."

Satisfied with her last words, Aella looks up at the scene around her. Most people are still engrossed in what they were doing when she first came in, oblivious to the whole confrontation. Then just as she turns around, her eyes catch Harry's broad frame, as though some magnetic field was coaxing them to his radiating force. She doesn't delay her departure though. Her steps barely falter on the way out but her mind is left in a whirlwind of thoughts.

He was smiling. Shy and in the corner of his lips. But genuine and almost knowing, like he'd been rooting for her the whole time. And really, for Harry to be on her side is everything Aella hopes for.

#harry styles writing #Harry Styles #harry styles fic #harry styles series #TopGun!Harry #ofc #Whirlwind #part1 #creative writing #fanfic #pilot!harry #enemies to lovers

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helenalikesbtsnow · 4 years ago

Text

The Ongoing Struggles of Being A Mall Gay (Part 1/3)

Read on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN or here on tumblr below the cut

Summary: Hoseok works at Build-A-Bear and Yoongi works at the Orange Julius that gives them discounts. Warning for gratuitous overuse of American mall culture.

***

Hoseok is leading around a dog on roller skates. Not a real dog, though that would be fun. They named the dog Clifford, though he is neither big nor red. Hoseok just looked at the dog one day and decided his name was Clifford.

Clifford has pink sparkly roller skates and he’s being led along on his pink sparkly leash by Hoseok who is having way too much fun with him. He’s tried to teach Clifford to roll over, but he’s filled with polyester stuffing and therefore is unable to understand even the most basic of commands. He’s absolutely killing it in the “sit!” game, but that’s the only thing that he’s mastered. You don’t even want to see the disappointment in everyone’s faces when they tell Clifford to fetch and he just sits there, dead in the eyes.

The mall isn’t really busy enough at this hour to rationalize Hoseok playing around with Clifford, but it’s not for any passersby’s amusement. Hoseok is having a blast all by himself thank you very much.

After a few minutes longer than anyone would have expected, he goes to sit by the stuffer. Hoseok picks up a few pieces of fluff off the floor that someone didn’t sweep up, and Taehyung’s head practically pops up out of nowhere from behind the giant contraption.

“Did you notice the new guy?” Taehyung asks.

“Um, what?” Hoseok inquires. Last he checked he was the manager and new hires go through him before anyone else. He would’ve noticed a new a guy. He would’ve hired a new guy since Seokjin doesn’t like to do it.

“No, not here,” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I’m talking over there.” He points over to the Orange Julius, their direct neighbors. Hoseok analyzes and tries to determine which face is new. There’s Namjoon making small talk with a customer and Jimin pretending two cups are his eyeballs. The usual.

The new face is immediately recognizable because of how uncomfortable he looks. He hasn’t quite perfected how to wear the hat in a way that doesn’t make him look like a robot. He’s also got his shirt tucked in, which is technically a part of the dress code, but Namjoon has never and will never enforce it, as is evident by the fact that Jimin’s shirt is both two sizes too large and hangs down to about his upper thigh. Now obviously Namjoon, ever the rule follower, has his own shirt tucked in, but this little duckling hasn’t learned the culture yet.

“Oh, he looks like a freshly birthed child,” Hoseok notes, with a shake of his head. They’re just a little bit too far away for him to make out features on the face, but you could tell from a mile away that he’s a teenager. There’s no question he’s younger than Hoseok.

“Should we mess with him?” Taehyung asks.

“We’ll see what Jimin says,” he shrugs. He doesn’t want to mess around with a newbie without verifying it with him first, because the last time they did it, they scared the guys so much that he quit. Apparently pretending to get a needle through your finger with the assistance of lots and lots of ketchup is a no-no. Namjoon didn’t talk to them for like three weeks. It made the carpool pretty weird, that’s for sure.

“Jin, do you know anything about the fresh meat?” Hoseok calls over. He says it just a little bit too loudly, because a customer who’s looking at the Choose Me wall looks up, alarmed. Maybe referring to a person as a meat sack isn’t the best thing to say in front of a customer. The glory of being a manager though means he can’t get fired by his boss.

“This is a Build-A-Bear, not a butcher,” Seokjin doesn’t even look up from the paper he’s reading.

“I meant at the Orange Julius.”

Jin looks up and across the hallway, spotting the man that Hoseok is referring to. “Oh him. It’s his first day. Joon said he comes to us by way of Applebee’s.”

“Wow, glamorous.”

“Do you think he could hook me up with discounted appetizers?” Taehyung says.

“We should probably know his name before you start making dinner reservations.”

The confused customer walks away to be replaced by a mother and her daughter who are very clearly on a mission. Since Hoseok is an expert in the customer service game, he welcomes them with a big smile and a wave. Everyone has a rough outline of a script that they use, but this obviously varies based on who walks by their store.

It’s not a real store with four walls and an entrance, it’s actually a kiosk, or what’s called a concourse. It’s probably the biggest kiosk you’ll ever see. The little cell phone repair kiosk a few paces down is only about three feet on any one side, whereas the Build-A-Bear is large enough that it would take you about a minute to walk around the whole thing. The concourse has an employee “room” that runs right through the middle of the store. It’s not a room, it’s just got a little swinging door which separates it from the shopping area. This section only has one entrance, near where Seokjin is standing. The store is set up very much shaped like a horseshoe.

On one side are all the bear skins, which is the technical term, and even after working here for almost ten years, Hoseok still hates it. On the other side are all the clothes, and of course there’s the stuffer on the short end.

Read on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

Hoseok has always been good around kids, that’s why he’s stayed for so long. His first job was actually at the Orange Julius a few meters away, but he could never stay there for that long, god bless Joon, though. In any case, whenever a kid walks “into” their store, he lights up and knows immediately how to talk to them.

This little girl, with her little mermaid T-shirt, seems like a pretty good candidate to show their new mermaid bear to, and he is right. She barely even has to make eye contact with the unstuffed bear before she looks to her mom with determination in her eyes.

“Is this the one?” he asks. It’s unconscious of him, but Hoseok gets lower to the ground whenever he talks to kids. He likes to be at eye level with them, it’s less intimidating. Hoseok does have one of the least intimidating faces of all time, but still.

She nods and Hoseok smiles, thinking fondly of how much he’ll spoil his own kid when he has one someday far off into the future. Got to get a boyfriend first.

He always has to look up at the parent like he’s asking for permission on behalf of their kid. The little girl’s mom is smiling, so he takes that a as a yes. Since it’s part of his job description, he leads them to the sound machine.

“When you’ve picked out any sounds you want, my good friend Taehyung over there will be able to bring your new friend to life,” he says. Absently, he organizes the bins so that all their eyes are facing up. When he first started, it was kind of creepy how all the animals stare at you, but he’s gotten used to it. Now, the more they stare at him, the stronger his temptation gets.

He doesn’t have an addiction to them, per se. He just has a lot of teddy bears. That’s okay. Lots of people collect things. He doesn’t have shame in that. He has to store some of them at his parents’ house because his apartment is too small, but that doesn’t mean he has a problem. He makes eye contact with a dinosaur and the two of them war with their eyes. Hoseok’s warm brown ones, and the dinosaur’s plastic green ones. He’s probably going to buy the dinosaur soon…

A few more customers come along and Hoseok helps them before gesturing over to Taehyung, who is designated stuffer for today. Hoseok’s favorite job hands down is stuffer, but he’s a good boss who will hand over the role every now and again.

After about an hour, they die down. It’s been about fifteen or so minutes since their last guest and Seokjin is talking about the squirrel in his attic again. Always the squirrel with this one.

“What if it lays eggs in your ceiling and then you start to run an entire squirrel condominium?” Taehyung asks.

“Excuse me?” Seokjin’s voice is way too loud when he responds. “Eggs, Tae? Eggs? Did you just ask me if the squirrel lays eggs?”

Taehyung realizes his error too late. “I didn’t mean eggs.”

“What did you mean Taehyung?”

“Oh forget it,” he says, shaking his head.

Seokjin calls across the hallway. “Joonie, Tae thinks squirrels lay eggs!”

“You what, Tae?” Namjoon responds. His voice is much quieter, because their stores are not that far away and there is no reason for Seokjin to be yelling other than to make sure everyone around them, or possibly in the whole mall, hears them.

“I’m going on my fifteen,” he says with a humph.

Read on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

“Would you do me a favor and stop at the Barnes and Noble to buy yourself a book about squirrels?” Seokjin asks him. Taehyung, because he’s a good employee, waits until he’s taken his apron off to flip Seokjin off. Hoseok watches the entire scene with fascination from behind the Dress Me wall.

Hoseok gives it another ten minutes, letting Seokjin taunt him even more with how cute and domestic his life with Namjoon is. When he and Namjoon first started working together about a decade ago, he had probably the biggest crush imaginable on him. They were both oily teenagers, but he was utterly infatuated. Seokjin didn’t come along until a year later when the Build-A-Bear was put in. Before that, Hoseok kind of assumed that eventually, he and Namjoon would end up with each other. Obviously, as soon as Namjoon first uttered a word to Seokjin, they were already in love. It didn’t take too terribly long for Hoseok to realize he never could feel the same way that Seokjin did about Namjoon. The crush didn’t melt away overnight, but he got over it.

Hoseok isn’t jealous. He’s not lonely. His roommate Jimin is the closest, friendliest guy in the world. He absolutely adores the guy. However, it would be nice to be married and have someone love him the way Namjoon loves Seokjin.

“Did you read the email from corporate?” Hoseok asks him absently.

“I try not to.”

“I don’t understand how you’re paid as much as me when you don’t do anything,” Hoseok sighs. That’s not true of course, Seokjin is very good at his job and he is great at the things he does. He’s good with guests, money, numbers, business-y things. He’s just really bad with listening to what he’s told, and those corporate emails are always about him doing what he’s told.

Hoseok checks his watch and looks around the hallway. There’s no way anyone is going to be coming by any time soon. Hoseok is the kind of manager that won’t get angry with any of his employees for playing on their phones, but he doesn’t want to set a bad example by doing that himself. Taehyung has been here for nearly four years now, but Hoseok still views him as an impressionable young child, because that’s what he was when Hoseok first hired him. That was so long ago, back when they assumed Taehyung was just going to be one of their temporary hires until he graduated college, but once he graduated, he just never left them, and Hoseok is very thankful. Seokjin promoted him to assistant manager a year ago so that they could have one more set of keyholders.

He catches Jimin’s eye, who waves him over like he has something to say. Hoseok walks across the hallway to him where they don’t have any customers either. Namjoon is off somewhere, probably in the backroom.

Hoseok looks at the new guy now that he’s a little closer. He’s got black hair and the palest skin. He’s absolutely decadent, Hoseok notes. He’s gorgeous in a soft way like a tiny little marshmallow. What do they put in the water at these goddamn Orange Julius’ to make everyone so pretty? He doesn’t have a name tag yet, which is unusual considering that Namjoon is the manager and he’s Namjoon. New Guy is standing and looking uncomfortable like all new employees at any job ever look. Hoseok thinks to say hi to him, but he wants to know if Jimin is plotting something before he does so.

“Did you do that thing I asked?” Jimin says in the type of whisper that is meant to be overheard. He winks right after saying it and that’s how Hoseok knows it’s for the new guy’s sake. He’s ready and gives a small nod to indicate to Jimin that he knows what to do.

“Your instructions weren’t clear. I wasn’t sure where you wanted it.”

“In the river, dumbass!” Jimin hisses.

“That’s what I thought,” Hoseok nods. He’s trying to determine what he put in the river. Was it a body? Drugs? Something else? “I weighed it down so no one will find it.”

“Good,” Jimin nods. Hoseok spares the briefest of glances over to the new guy but he is very intentionally looking at the jewelry store a little bit down the hallway. Oh yeah, he’s listening. They have to make it more grandiose than this though.

“I don’t get why you had to kill the guy anyway,” Hoseok mutters.

“He knew too much.”

“I just wish you had consulted me first.”

“It was a spur of the moment decision. I had to do what I had to do right then and there. I would do it again, Hoseok. I would do it again.”

At that, Namjoon comes out from the backroom. “Hoseok?” he asks. It’s not uncommon for someone from Build-A-Bear to be standing against the counter like this, but Namjoon gets very territorial whenever he makes a new hire. Their last hire just left for college, and he usually hung out with his school friends rather than his adoptive family, which is how Hoseok refers to himself and his coworkers. That kid is not particularly missed so much as there is an absence of a human.

“Hey Joon, how are you?” Hoseok says, pretending to be surprised by his entrance.

“What are you two… oh come on,” the look of annoyance on his face when he puts the pieces together could be put into a museum. “Again? Seriously?”

“What are you talking about?” Jimin plays innocent.

“Why are you always doing this to me?” he aims the question at God and then turns to his new employee, “Whatever they were just talking about, disregard it. They do this to everyone I hire; they’re just trying to mess with you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Hoseok says. “I’m offended you would make such an accusation.”

“Just go away,” he says, shaking his head and making a shooing motion. He’s not ready to deal with both Jimin and Hoseok. The two of them have been roommates for just long enough that they have a mind meld that Namjoon doesn’t trust. It’s best to keep them separate at all times.

“Wow. Well you just lost yourself a paying customer.”

“Not cool of you, Joon,” Jimin shakes his head.

“I sign your paychecks.”

Jimin stands up straight dramatically and salutes, “yes sir!”

Hoseok laughs and returns to his actual job. Taehyung is back from break and he’s in the middle of helping two little girls pick out their new furry friend and he smiles fondly at them. Besides performing the motions, stuffing, ringing people up, the best thing about this job is just seeing how happy you make people. It’s the only job in retail where you get to make someone’s day one hundred percent of the time. It’s absolutely impossible to go to a Build-A-Bear Workshop and not leave with a smile on your face. It’s literally page one in the employee handbook. Make people smile, make their day.

Hoseok goes to hang out in the middle of the concourse with Seokjin who he now realizes was not actually reading a paper at all, he was just holding it up to hide his phone.

“You crafty son of a bitch.” He says it as quietly as possible because there are literal children only a little bit away.

Seokjin smirks. “You’re very gullible.” Seokjin isn’t usually one to be on his phone constantly while he’s at work, but the day has been unbelievably slow so far. Hoseok looks over his shoulder to see what he’s doing. There are very few secrets in this family. Mall family, that is. Hoseok knows what type of porn Jimin watches, though that’s less to do with them all knowing each other really well and more because he and Jimin’s rooms share a wall.

Let the record show that Seokjin is taking a quiz to determine what type of rock he is. Hoseok wouldn’t need a quiz to tell you that Seokjin is a rhyolite.

Hoseok grabs his phone from his hand and gives Seokjin an annoyed glare. “Will you go clean up after those two kids? They messed through almost every bin.”

“Ugh, fine,” he’s easy to push over because they both know he hasn’t done anything today.

“Taehyung,” he says leaning over the wall to look at Taehyung who is preparing to help stuff a very beautiful unicorn and bunny.

“Hmm?”

“Would you be interested in going home an hour early? It’s so slow.”

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He nods vigorously and Hoseok rolls his eyes when he lets him go back to work. Taehyung is scheduled for another two and a half hours, but it’s a Wednesday and they haven’t even broken their midday goal yet and it’s three hours past when they were supposed to.

“I’m sending Tae home a little early,” Hoseok calls over to Seokjin.

“Fine with me,” he says. “We’re almost out of Pikachus.”

Hoseok frowns. Pikachu is one of the animals that he hates to run low on, because it’s so popular. Customers rarely yell at you at a store like this one, but when they do, it’s usually because you’re out of a Pokémon. One time a soccer mom made Taehyung cry when they didn’t have any Piplups and it’s the closest Hoseok has ever come to hitting a person. No one is allowed to be rude to his children and Taehyung is very much one of his children.

“I’ll run to the stock room to see if there’s any more,” he sighs. He walks out of the store and across the hallway, enjoying the sound his keys make when they jingle in his hands. Since they’re in a concourse, their stockroom is out the service door in the somewhat creepy mall employee hallway. It’s supposed to only be for people who work at the mall, but the door is always unlocked and lately, customers have started to learn that. It’s not haunted, but it’s also not not haunted.

Unfortunately, they do not have any more Pikachus and it’s not the kind of thing they can just order more of. Either they get more Pikachus in their next truck or they don’t. It’s not up to them what comes and what doesn’t. He notes that there is a substantial amount of fluff that was left on the ground, Taehyung the obvious culprit. Hoseok loves him, dearly and truly, but Taehyung hates sweeping with a passion.

He returns to the mall to see their store has once again cleared out, but a familiar darkly dressed figure is now approaching. “Well if it isn’t the traitor himself,” he says. As per usual, Jungkook is dressed in all black. He’s wearing his signature stomping shoes today. He’s light on his feet, which is good, because if he wasn’t, those boots would intimidate Hoseok into hibernation.

“I’m not a traitor, I’m a capitalist.”

“Sounds like something a traitor would say,” Hoseok says.

Jungkook throws up his arms in a shrug before he takes a seat at the table just outside the technical boundary of their concourse.

“When are you going to come back to me?” Hoseok asks. Hoseok is just tall enough to lean over to look inside the concourse where he reaches for something.

“As soon as you’re able to give me a 40% discount to Hot Topic,” Jungkook responds, pulling out his phone, because there is no other purpose to having a break then to check all the text messages that you haven’t received in the last three hours because all of your friends work at the same mall and have the same hours as you do.

“I still have your apron for whenever you come back,” Hoseok declares once he finds it. They put the apron on a How to Train Your Dragon Toothless that Jungkook himself stuffed, who, being a dark black dragon, is an adequate replacement for their lost comrade. Toothless goes by several different names now that Jungkook works at Hot Topic. Jungkook 2, Emo Boy, Judas.

Hoseok gives him his world renown, absolutely heartbreaking pout while holding up Jungkook 2. He gets all up in Jungkook’s personal space and tries to win his heart through his beautiful, devastating face.

“Not gonna work, Seok.”

“I’ll win you yet! Just you wait, Jeon Jungkook!”

Jungkook receives a message in the Group Chat, which he opens to see that it’s a picture of himself taken maybe thirty seconds ago, from Seokjin. The caption just says, “Bitch: sighted.”

Across the hall, Jimin, who is most certainly not allowed to have his phone on him laughs. He looks over and gives Jungkook a bright wave. It’s very difficult for Jimin to pretend to be angry when his personality is like a Peaches and Cream smoothie, which is coincidentally his favorite Orange Julius beverage.

“You’re all so very petty,” Jungkook sighs, holding up the message for Hoseok to see, though it’s all in good fun. He’s as much a part of their family as anyone else, even if he did abandon them viciously for Hot Topic.

“Put your phone away Mr. Kim,” Hoseok calls over.

“I don’t have my phone,” Taehyung says.

“No, the other one.”

“Hoseok, we’re co-managers. You don’t get to tell me what to do.” Seokjin is just in one of those funks. It happens on slow days like these. It’s not just because the store isn’t making as much money as their target, it’s also just very deflating to not be doing anything.

“We just miss you Jungkook,” Hoseok sighs. It’s been nearly a month since he left, but it doesn’t feel like he’s gone anywhere. His store is just down the hall. Far enough that they can’t shout to him, but close enough that if anyone gets pissed off with anyone else, they can go vent about it to Jungkook on their break. This is infrequent but Jimin occasionally has a short temper when it comes to Taehyung. Probably because they’ve been secretly fucking each other for like a year now, though Hoseok isn’t supposed to know that.

“It offends me deeply that you care more about discounted jewelry than you do about me,” Hoseok says. To be fair, Jungkook has been threatening to get a sleeve tattoo for some time now and that’s not technically allowed under store policy.

“Kids just have… too much snot,” Jungkook shakes his head. “They’re so full of snot. Just right out their nose onto their bears and then it gets on me, and I just… goths don’t have as much snot, Hoseok.”

Hoseok shakes his head. That’s the Jungkook he knows and loves.

“New guy!” Taehyung calls over, as the new guy clocks out for the day. The guy doesn’t even realize that Taehyung is talking to him because he looks like he’s about to walk in the opposite direction. “New Orange Julius guy!” Taehyung yells louder this time, and that gets his attention. It’s less vague, there’s only one person who could be given that superlative. He turns around, looking for the source of the voice, and sees Taehyung waving him over. He points to himself as if he’s asking whether Taehyung is talking to him, but who else could he be talking to. “Yes you.”

“Don’t scare him,” Hoseok says.

“Didn’t you and Jimin try to convince him you killed someone?” Taehyung asks.

“Ah, Namjoon ruined it.”

The new guy looks very awkward as he approaches, but Hoseok tries to be as welcoming as he can be, which is something he’s gotten to be very good at given the nature of his job.

“Hey there,” Hoseok says, waving at him. “How was your first day?”

“Um, good,” he says and Hoseok is a little caught off guard by his voice. It’s not that his voice is deep, but it’s deeper than you would expect when you look at his face. His voice sounds uncomfortable. Hoseok doesn’t want to scare the guy too much, even if it is kind of fun.

“I’m sorry me and Jimin messed with you earlier,” Hoseok says. “It’s something we’ve been doing for years. I didn’t actually hide a body.”

“Yeah, uh, I figured that out,” he says. Oh boy, he’s the cute kind of awkward that makes Hoseok’s heart stutter.

“We didn’t introduce ourselves!” Hoseok realizes. “I’m Hoseok, this here is Taehyung, and that guy over there is banging your boss.”

“We’re married! Stop telling people we’re banging. You came to the wedding,” Seokjin rolls his eyes, but then waves at the new guy. “I’m Seokjin.”

“He’s banging your boss,” Hoseok whispers.

“At least I can get some,” Seokjin says. Taehyung makes an “oooh” sound, because Hoseok walked right into that one.

“What’s your name?” Hoseok asks him, choosing to ignore both of the people around him.

“I’m Yoongi,” he replies. Hoseok smiles, deciding he likes that name. It’s sweet, just like Yoongi’s face.

“Nice to meet you Yoongi. In case Jimin didn’t give you the low down yet, we at Build-A-Bear and at Orange Julius are a family. You’re part of the family now. If you didn’t read the fine print when you got hired, you won’t have been made aware that you are now loved and respected. That’s just something you’re going to have to accept.”

“Jin is our mom,” Taehyung adds.

“I’m not your mom.”

“Namjoon is our dad.”

“That part is true,” Seokjin says.

“…Okay?”

Hoseok almost puts an arm on his shoulder, because that’s what he would do if Yoongi was anyone else, but he literally just met this guy and a few hours ago he had pretended he killed someone in front of him. Give it a little time before you get too familiar with him.

“I just mean that we look out for each other, that’s all. If you ever need anything at all, one of us will be able to help you out. We’re not just coworkers, we’re best friends.”

“Jeez, Seok, you make it sound like a cult,” Seokjin says.

“Why do you have to go around and ruin a bonding moment like that, man?” Hoseok says. “Well anyway, I’ll let you get on your way, nothing like going home after work.”

“Especially when you have someone at home who loves you,” Seokjin says. He’s laying it on pretty heavy today, but in all fairness, Hoseok has been single for a really, really long time.

“We’ve got to add you to the group chat!” Taehyung says, and Hoseok can’t believe he almost forgot.

“Of course! How could I forget? Is that cool with you, Yoongi?”

Yoongi takes a second but then nods. Hoseok is trying not to throw his personality at him so fast, but it’s hard when his personality is big. He takes up a lot of space just being himself. Yoongi seems like the kind of guy who would apologize for using too much space on a couch.

“Great,” he says and then hands his phone over to Yoongi. “Put your number in there and then I’ll make sure everyone sends you their name so that you can add them to your contacts. There’s only six of us, but if we ever get to be too annoying, just mute it and text us individually. The only person who will probably annoy you, though, is me. I post pictures of every dog I see on the street.”

“I enjoy them,” Taehyung nods. Taehyung often names the dogs that Hoseok takes pictures of. Jimin rates them. No dog has ever ranked lower than a ten out of ten, and for the longest time, Hoseok assumed Jimin was just an avid fan of the WeRateDogs twitter, but as it turns out, he had never heard of it. He just really loves dogs.

Yoongi tries to hide it, but Hoseok sees him smile just a little bit, and he’s proud of himself. Maybe Daily Dog Digest – which is what he calls his dog spotting – will bring that smile onto Yoongi’s face more frequently.

Hoseok decides very quickly that Yoongi is beautiful, which is going to get annoying considering he’s older than the guy and he doesn’t want to be creepy about it. Yoongi is probably over 18, but by how much is uncertain. He doesn’t ask him his age because that’s weird, but as Yoongi turns to leave, that small smile lingers in his brain. He is a heartbreaker, that one.

They watch Yoongi leave; Seokjin doesn’t look up because he doesn’t care, and he’s married so he wouldn’t look at him anyway.

“He’s gorgeous,” Taehyung says, stating exactly what Hoseok is thinking.

“I know, right?” he shakes his head. “He’s almost prettier than you Tae.”

“No such thing,” he shakes his head. “I’m definitely the prettiest, no one can even compare.”

As a manager, Hoseok works nearly every day of the week. If it were any other job, he’d despise that fact, but he gets to come into work every day, hang out with all of his best friends, interact with kids, make peoples days… really it’s hard to complain, because he’s been making a lot of money. To put into perspective how many hours he puts in, Hoseok has already managed to pay off his student loans and his car payments, and he’s barely in the latter half of his twenties. That just seems… unheard of.

He still lives with a roommate and the reason is twofold. He’s never lived on his own before because he’s afraid to and what better way to avoid being out on his own than to live with his very best friend in the entire world? He really loves and adores Jimin with all of his heart. They get along as well as two people can possibly get along. The second reason is because he wants to have a life someday. Maybe travel, maybe buy a house, maybe buy a drumkit. To whatever end, he wants to save his money in order to have those things, and having a roommate means that he can continue to save up.

He technically makes enough to live on his own, because they very much do not live in a big city, so rent prices are not terrible. Taehyung and Jungkook are constantly in his apartment when they’re not at work because Hoseok is a good cook and neither of them know how to use a toaster.

He tries not to sound too interested, but in the evenings when he and Jimin share dinner, he tries to see if there’s anything to learn about the new guy. Jimin knows as little about him as Hoseok does. His name is Yoongi, he has black hair, brown eyes, squishy cheeks. Jimin describes him as being very quiet, very soft spoken. Sexually ambiguous but probably straight. The guy is younger than Hoseok, far too young for him, so he really wishes he didn’t care to the extent that he does.

New Guy hasn’t contributed anything to the group chat yet, but he hasn’t removed himself from it altogether, which seems to be a good sign. The only thing he’s texted was the initial “hi, this is Yoongi” that he sent on day one. Whether he likes or dislikes Daily Dog Digest is yet to be determined.

Hoseok works a few more shifts before he finally sees Yoongi again. Hoseok has an opening shift, so he’s too busy uncovering the concourse to see Yoongi actually come in for the day. He only notices him once he hears a blender start running. Hoseok turns to look over at them. Unsurprisingly, they don’t actually have a customer yet, it’s just that Jimin always starts his day out with a smoothie whenever he works a morning shift. Morning is a bit of a misnomer though since they open at 11:00.

Hoseok smiles. He gives a nod to one of his high school employees to continue setting the store up as he walks over to greet Yoongi.

“Good morning guys,” he says, smiling brightly. Yoongi looks up at him like a scared mouse but gives a small smile anyway. Hoseok forgot how pretty he is in the days since he last saw him. No one should have the right to be that cute.

“Morning!” Jimin shouts. He pours his peach smoothie into a cup and smiles at Hoseok like they didn’t just see each other an hour ago. Jimin has a short shift and then has to go to his real job, otherwise they would have carpooled.

“How are you, Yoongi?” he asks. He looks confused by Hoseok addressing him directly.

“Um, good,” Yoongi says. He’s the type to bite his lip. It’s quite sweet, actually.

“Great! It’s been a while since I last saw you. You like it here? Is Namjoon treating you right?”

Namjoon peers over at him from the register. Namjoon has never spoken a bad word about anyone ever in his entire life. He has had asshole customers yell at him and still remained as composed and perfect as he always is. Hoseok had an all-consuming, bone breaking crush on Namjoon for at least a year after meeting him, so his opinion is rose-colored. In any case, there’s no way in hell that Yoongi could possibly have any qualms with him.

“He’s very nice,” Yoongi says. His responses are short, not because he’s rude, but because he doesn’t say more than he needs to, which is basically what Jimin had described.

Read on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

“If you ever have any problems with him just take it up with me and I’ll kick him in the ass for you. He owes me more than a few favors.”

Namjoon just rolls his eyes. Jimin is giggling, standing between the scene. He’s just sipping his smoothie like a child watching his parents fighting.

“Okay,” Yoongi says, he doesn’t even attempt to make eye contact with Hoseok, and it is very intentional.

“My name is Hoseok, in case you forgot,” he says.

“I remember, Hoseok,” Yoongi says, and his ears turn red but it’s so subtle that Hoseok doesn’t actually notice it.

Hoseok doesn’t meant to lick his lips. Yoongi is still not attempting to look at anything other than the counter so Hoseok doesn’t try to capture his eyes any longer. He just looks at him for longer than he probably should. He wonders why Yoongi doesn’t look back. He’s a soft-spoken kind of a guy, it’s possible that he’s just shy. Hoseok barely knows him at all, but he seems the type who takes a while to unfreeze around new people.

“Hoseok, your job?” Namjoon reminds him and he suddenly remembers that he is on the clock right now.

“Right! Well, do me a favor Yoongi and stop by the workshop when your shift ends, okay?” He smiles and Yoongi looks up at him and the eye contact that they have lasts for only about a second but it’s very heavy. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, but he revaluates and decides not to.

Hoseok turns on his heels and sees his high schooler folding up the tarps they use to cover the store. The two of them finish the task with Hoseok only turning to look at Yoongi a few times.

For whatever unholy reason, they’re frighteningly busy this Thursday. There’s no reason for it, the density in traffic for a retail store is one of life’s greatest mysteries. It could be that passersby see Hoseok’s wonderful face and decide to approach in order to get a better look. He is annoyed with how understaffed he is today, Seokjin makes the schedules usually, but there’s really no reason for why he would staff three people in the morning for a Thursday in the middle of summer, so it’s not his fault.

He doesn’t get another employee in until 1:00, and by then, the line for the stuffer is already six different groups, most of whom have more than one furry friend each. He was supposed to take his lunch once Taehyung clocked in, but there’s no way he’ll be able to sneak away until they’ve gotten through the line. He just sighs and powers through it.

About an hour later, Hoseok is finally able to take his break. He goes into the middle of the concourse and then lies on the floor and makes a groaning sound. He stays there for about five minutes, trying to cool down. When he decides he’s gotten his bearings, he stands back up, pulls off his apron and waves bye to Taehyung and the high schooler. He gets a whole twenty-five minutes of peace away from the store. Knowing his luck, there won’t be a single customer while he’s gone, but after that, the entire population of Bolivia will want to make a bear. He can’t wait until Seokjin gets into work later because his feet could honestly fall off at any minute.

He glances over at Orange Julius to see that they’re extremely busy too. Had he not noticed before how much shorter than Namjoon Yoongi is? He’s so little. Jimin must have already left, but Yoongi honestly can’t be much bigger than him, if he is at all. It’s adorable. What a cutie. Then he makes his way to Hot Topic to bother Jungkook.

Jungkook is the store greeter today, so he sees him right as he approaches. He waves at him, and Jungkook stares back with blank eyes. The store is as dark and cramped as every other Hot Topic in the world, and apparently, it’s a truck day so there are more staff than usual who are all pushing stock. Yet, for some unsaintly reason, they’re not busy at all, except for the two alternative girls who Hoseok just stuffed an Eevee and a Pikachu for ten minutes ago.

“You can only bother him if you buy something,” Jungkook’s manager says, and he gives her a thumbs up. He can always do with more jewelry. Jungkook’s nails are painted today, and based on how shoddy the work is, he did it himself. He looks like a full course meal, but he’s Jungkook so that’s to be expected.

Jungkook looks confused at Hoseok’s disheveled appearance, because isn’t it a Thursday? Why does he look like he’s just fought a war on a goddamn Thursday? “How bad is it over there?”

“It was a nightmare. I don’t know why. People getting back their tax refunds maybe? I thought I was going to die.”

“Sorry, dude. Tae working?” he asks, and Hoseok is slightly offended, because Jungkook doesn’t need to be asking about Taehyung when it’s Hoseok standing in front of him. He’s the one visiting Jungkook, not Taehyung.

“I fired him.”

“That’s a shame,” Jungkook sighs. “Now I can never return.”

“I’ll only rehire him if you come back too,” he says with an award-winning smile.

“Guess Tae will just have to find another job… Orange Julius will be hiring soon if you guys scare the shit out of the new guy like you did that one time.”

“Ah, he seems alright,” Hoseok says. “He hasn’t talked to us in the Group Chat yet, which I’m trying not to be offended by. He’s just a baby.” Jungkook is also a baby, to Hoseok at least. He met the kid when he was literally a sophomore in high school. He met Jungkook before he even met Jimin. Jungkook used to be shorter than him. Now, even without his stomping boots, he’s taller. Hoseok is starting to feel his years slip past too quickly. How can Jungkook have gotten so big?

“He’s quiet,” Jungkook nods. “But so was I when we first met; we just gotta soften him up a little bit. Maybe go out for drinks sometime.” Hoseok is still unable to comprehend that Jungkook is old enough to drink alcohol. That doesn’t even seem real. Jungkook will always be one of his teenage hires, he’s just one of the ones that never left him. Until a month ago. Ugh, traitor.

“I’m going to have him make his initiation bear later,” Hoseok says, getting excited thinking about it. He loves making new friends, it’s one of his favorite things in the world to do, and it’s so easy to talk to people at his job. Kids are easy, they’ll love anyone who makes a teddy bear for them. Adults are a lot of fun, because they think the heart ceremony is ridiculous, but you can almost always convince them to do it anyway. Yoongi should be a treat later. Hopefully he’ll manage to pull a little bit more of his personality out of that way too pretty shell.

“Do you think he’ll stick?” Jungkook asks. They’ve had a lot of difficulty keeping anyone in their family as of late. Taehyung was actually the last recruit and that was something like four years ago.

“I hope so,” Hoseok shrugs.

“You like him?” Jungkook says, looking maybe a little bit too deeply into him. Jungkook is a bit of a mind reader, and it has always been a bit frightening to Hoseok.

“I just think he’s a nice view from the store, that’s all.”

“Jimin is across the hall from you,” Jungkook says. He’d mention Namjoon too if he wasn’t married, because Namjoon is definitely something to look at.

“You’re horny for everyone, Jungkook,” Hoseok shakes his head. Jungkook is an enigma, hard to tell who he’s attracted to and who he isn’t. All that’s certain is that he is easily impressed.

Jungkook’s boss gives Hoseok a glare. They’re not enemies, but she did steal Jungkook from him, so they’re certainly not friends. He wonders what would happen if he ran away without buying something after he promised he would. She knows where he works, so he’d get found out. If there’s any one in a mall that knows how to contact a bounty hunter, it’s a Hot Topic employee. And maybe those bitches down at Bath & Body Works; he’s never trusted them. They have blue aprons just like Hoseok’s, and that seems far too coincidental to be a coincidence.

“Pick out something gay for me, won’t you, Jungkook?”

Jungkook nods, and immediately goes to the jewelry section. It takes him no more than a few seconds to throw a rainbow beaded bracelet at him. It’s overpriced because they work in a mall and also capitalism, but Hoseok goes to the checkout anyway. Jungkook’s boss doesn’t give him a discount. Most stores in this mall will give mall employees a 10%, but not Hot Topic. That’s why it was so easy for her to steal Jungkook from him. Jungkook always found a way to make a blue apron look slightly goth, and that has always been impressive.

Before he left, Jungkook had been threatening to get tattoos on his hands so that he couldn’t work at Build-A-Bear anymore. Hoseok rolled his eyes because he would’ve let Jungkook work there anyway, even if it is against company policy. He let Taehyung dye his hair blue that one time, he just didn’t schedule Taehyung whenever their district manager dropped by. Jungkook could do almost anything to his appearance and Hoseok would still hire him back.

“Gay enough?” he asks.

“Nothing will ever be gay enough for me, Jungkookie,” he smiles sweetly.

***

“Hi Yoongi!” Hoseok waves him over excitedly when he sees Yoongi walking out from behind his prison-like counter. He’s got a backpack over one shoulder, which makes Hoseok feel slightly awful. For him to be using a backpack means he is definitely too young for Hoseok to have attraction towards.

“Hi, Hoseok,” he says, and for some reason, when Yoongi stops in front of him, he seems warmer than usual. Maybe Hoseok’s sunshine is starting to rub off on him, or maybe Namjoon is breaking him down just a little bit. In a good way. You need to be a little bit weathered in order to fit in around here.

“Are you tired? It’s been a train wreck around here!”

“Yeah,” he nods. Seokjin is talking with a few customers, a family by the looks of it, at the front of the workshop, but he’ll be coming around soon to the stuffer, so Hoseok just steals Yoongi away to hang out by the register.

“I know how tough it is to start a new job when everyone is already friends with each other,” Hoseok says. “It’s awful. It’s so hard to break through. We’re all really close, and that’s why I don’t want you to feel left out. But if my personality is ever too much, just tell me. I know I’m a bit much.”

Yoongi blushes, but again, Hoseok doesn’t notice it. “It’s fine, I appreciate it. I’m just…”

“New jobs are hard,” Hoseok says when Yoongi drifts off. “But if you ever need any help, literally come to anyone. I happen to know quite a bit about Orange Julius myself.” He did work there for like two years, but that was so long ago. That doesn’t mean he hasn’t unofficially looked after the place a few times.

Taehyung pops up from behind the concourse. He went on his break a little while ago, and Hoseok just assumed he went somewhere, but apparently, he was just sitting on the floor out of view.

“Yoongi!” He says, excitedly. “How are you?” Taehyung has the personality of a puppy. In every way, he was supposed to be a dog, but someone flipped the wrong switch and he ended up as a person. He’s a very special person who Hoseok would do anything for.

“Good,” he says, and apparently the increased quantity of people shrinks him up a little bit. His shoulders get a little less slack once there are two people looking at him instead of just one.

“You like your new job? Is Jimin alright?”

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“Jimin is very nice, yes,” Yoongi says.

“Cool! Do you want to come get dinner with us some time? And by dinner, I mean the Panda Express at the food court. I’m a bit of an addict.”

“Um, sure,” Yoongi says nodding, and a soft smile appears on his sweet little face.

“Wonderful. I can’t promise when… we all tend to work the same hours, hard to get a break at the same time, but Hoseok will figure it out, won’t you, Hoseokie?”

“That’s a Jin question. I abhor scheduling.” Taehyung looks over at Seokjin who has migrated to the stuffer and is about to stuff the family’s chosen friends. It’s always alarming to Hoseok how kind and charming Seokjin is when he’s with guests as opposed to the snarky guy he knows. By all accounts, Seokjin is the nicest, kindest, and most wonderful person on the planet, but he’ll call you a motherfucker if you blink too hard in his direction.

Taehyung sighs. “Do you have anywhere to be? You should hang out for a little while, if you can.”

Yoongi shakes his head. “I’m off for the rest of the day.”

“Great,” Hoseok interjects. “There’s something you’ve still got to do.”

“What is that?” he looks wary.

“You, Yoongi, get to make an initiation bear,” Hoseok says, brightly. “I’m buying. As long as you name him Hoseok. If his name isn’t Hoseok I won’t let you make one.”

Taehyung smiles, “I have three Hoseoks at home.”

“You only have to name the first one Hoseok, I really don’t know why you kept doing that.”

“It’s fun,” Taehyung shrugs and takes a sip of his Orange Julius sponsored water. Taehyung is a serial forgetter of water bottles so at this point they usually put his water on the counter as soon as they see him clock in. Jungkook has recently become very save the planet-y so he’s been reprimanding Taehyung for how much he uses non-reusable cups.

Yoongi takes a second to find his voice and then stutters out, “You don’t have to do that for me-”

“Nonsense!” Hoseok says. “Everyone gets a bear, that’s just how it works. Or not a bear. You don’t have to pick a bear, we’ve got dogs, unicorns, bunnies. Pick whatever you want, but their name has to be Hoseok.”

“I have a very beautiful dinosaur at home named Hoseok,” Taehyung adds. “And a dog. And a monster.”

“I don’t appreciate the dog being named after me. I’ve never licked a toilet bowl in my life.”

“You’re actually serious?” Yoongi says, interrupting the back and forth that he and Taehyung could probably have for hours. Taehyung brings out sides of people that they never knew they had, it’s just the kind of person he is. He’ll get you thinking about the meaning of life, but he’ll do it in a stupid way by asking you what the shelf life is of your average wool sock. Wool socks last longer than cotton socks, but that leads into a whole philosophy majors worth of follow up questions. Taehyung doesn’t even pose difficult questions, that’s just what being around him is like. His brain is a lot wider from knowing Taehyung.

“Absolutely!” Hoseok says. “Have you ever built a bear before?” Yoongi shakes his head shyly and Hoseok gets the brightest smile on his face. “Perfect! My favorite type of guest! So, the first thing you need to do is pick out a friend. But you have to smile while you’re doing it, or else Taehyung doesn’t get to eat dinner.”

“I need dinner, Yoongi. Please smile.”

Yoongi smiles. He would have suppressed it if not for the fact that Hoseok has the prettiest smile he’s ever seen. That face could cheer anyone up. Seeing Yoongi’s tiny smile makes Hoseok glow. What a cute little thing, holy shit.

“You should get a horse,” Seokjin says, peaking over. “Hoseok hates it when we call him a horse.”

Hoseok gives him a death glare, and Yoongi just looks at the bins below him trying to determine the best Hoseok there is. There are many great options. There’s many rainbow or pastel colored bears which give off some serious Hoseok energy. There’s also a pink bunny which is one of Hoseok’s favorites that he recommends to half of their guests. Also, there’s a shark.

Yoongi looks carefully, analyzing everything in front of him. He’s never done anything like this before but the idea of it is fun. He wishes he could go back into his past and come here as a kid. He would’ve tripped over his own feet to have made his own bear.

Hoseok watches Yoongi look at his options with total fascination. He’s literally gorgeous. The profile of his face could make anyone swoon. He tells himself to force those thoughts away because Yoongi is too young for him. Not so young that Hoseok is a creep, but too young that he can’t think about dating him. He’s also probably straight because contrary to Hoseok’s friend circle, most people are straight.

Yoongi ends up picking one of the more classic bears. It’s a basic brown bear, some of the softest fur out of all the ones on offer, but it’s also on the cheaper end of the spectrum.

“You don’t have to pick one of the cheaper ones just because I’m buying,” he says. He’s a very honest person, Hoseok could easily just give a bear away for free, but crazily enough, he actually respects the company that he works for. Obviously, he’ll be using his employee discount on it, but he’ll still pay from his own wallet.

“I like this one,” Yoongi says firmly. “The fur kind of matches your hair color.” He blushes right after saying it, but Hoseok doesn’t notice because he takes a strand of his hair in his fingers and tries to look at it to determine if Yoongi is right.

When he determines that his hair does indeed match, he smiles and looks at him. “You can go absolutely wild with the other stuff. Get the most expensive sound, fill it with scents, buy a tiara. Literally, go crazy.”

Yoongi smiles. The thought of Hoseok in a tiara makes him feel a way he doesn’t think he should be feeling. He looks at the unstuffed bear in his hands and tries to determine whether a tiara would suit him.

“Do you want to put any sounds in it?” Hoseok asks, gesturing to the sound station. “You can get the Star Wars theme in there. I think that’s a pretty baller choice since his name is Hoseok. I like Star Wars a lot, so I’m sure little Hoseok will like it too.”

“Is that what you want?” Yoongi asks, looking genuinely interested in Hoseok’s opinion.

“It’s not about what I want, it’s about what you want. I’m just your tour guide here, all I’ll do is make suggestions,” he says. He tilts his head, undeniably intrigued by Yoongi. He wonders what his personality is like when he’s not nervous and dazed. It’s hard to get a read on him. Hoseok considers himself to be extremely empathetic, so sometimes he’ll detect things about a person without them showing it. It makes his job a little easier. It’s impossible to tell with Yoongi, though, because he’s dressed in a uniform rather than anything that could give him a sign. He also avoids making eye contact, which is precious, but it does little for Hoseok to learn anything about him.

“Okay, Star Wars then,” Yoongi says. Hoseok helps him look through the few different options, and they settle on the Imperial March, which makes Yoongi’s face get all squishy with a little smile. Hoseok adores it. He wants to pat Yoongi on the head and read him a bedtime story.

“I love when people get Star Wars,” he says fondly. “Nothing against Frozen, but Star Wars is classic.”

Yoongi nods and allows Hoseok to lead him to the stuffer. “Okay, Yoongi, this is the best part. This is where we give your bear life.” Yoongi can’t stop himself from blushing, because both Taehyung and Seokjin are watching him now with interest.

Yoongi feels a little bit like a zoo animal. Everyone is trying to learn things about him, but he’s the kind of person who is very contained when he meets new people. It’s weird walking into a circle of people who already know each other so well. It’s very intimidating, like Hoseok had said.

Then again, they’re all very open and kind to him, Hoseok especially. Yoongi is not an idiot, he knows that everyone around him is insanely attractive. Namjoon is too pretty, but he’s married so Yoongi doesn’t salivate at the mouth whenever he’s near. Jimin is an easy pretty, and from some source he was told that Jimin is decently famous on Instagram for posting dance videos. And of course, there’s Hoseok who has the brightest energy about him. Yoongi doesn’t believe in auras but if he did, Hoseok’s would be bright pink. Yoongi is going to inevitably fall for one of them, and the way that Hoseok looks at him makes him believe he’s already figured out who.

Hoseok places him in front of the stuffer and he’s presented with a pedal. It feels very foreign to him, looking at the limp teddy bear which Hoseok is about to stuff? Apparently? With a giant machine? That spins around and looks a bit like cotton candy? The concept is foreign, because there wasn’t a Build-A-Bear where he grew up. All he knows about the place is what he watches from behind his counter a few yards away.

The sound that the machine makes startles him, even though he’s heard it a dozen times just today. It’s a lot louder when you’re right next to it. Hoseok looks like an expert, not that he’s been spying on him the entire time while he’s at work, but it is hard not to let your eyes wander over to the giant blue store in the middle of the hallway. It’s even harder to avoid looking at the pretty guy who has a way with kids and has a face like a sunrise.

His eyes just gravitate towards Hoseok when he talks to customers, laughs with them, talks to them like he’s known them all his life. He seems like he’d be easy to talk to, because no one else has any trouble with it, but Yoongi is a hopeless gay who gets tongue tied around pretty boys.

“Alright,” Hoseok says, turning off the machine. Yoongi takes his foot off the pedal, though the machine has stopped so it’s not like it does a whole lot. “I’ll have you give little Hoseok a hug test to make sure he feels right.” Taehyung comes out of nowhere to hug Hoseok from behind his chair and he just sighs. “I was referring to the other Hoseok, but I appreciate it, Tae.”

“You feel just right,” Taehyung says. Hoseok pats his hand as he tries to shrug him off.

“Feel good?” Hoseok asks, looking to Yoongi though Taehyung has not let go of him. Yoongi nods. This is such a weird group of people, but he kind of likes them already. Especially Hoseok.

“Okay, now comes the actual best part,” Hoseok says, and he pulls a small fabric heart out of a bin right beside his machine. Taehyung lets go of him at this point, only to stand a few feet away to watch. Hoseok always does the best heart ceremonies, which doesn’t seem fair, because half of the time Taehyung just copies everything he does, but Hoseok makes it look so easy and natural. He really was made for this job.

Hoseok places the heart into Yoongi’s hand, and their fingers touch and it makes the real heart inside of Yoongi’s chest stutter just a little bit. He really is just so weak around cute boys, so it’s been a difficult job to transition to. To make it worse, Hoseok is his kind of cute boy. It’s all in the smile.

“So, the first thing you need to do is get that heart warm by rubbing it between your hands.”

“Do we really have to do this part?” Yoongi asks, looking sheepish. He’s seen this part from his perch, and it seems awkward to do it in the middle of the mall. He looks around himself, even though there’s nobody here to watch him. Well except for Seokjin and Taehyung. This just doesn’t feel like the sort of thing that a guy who’s in his late twenties should be doing.

“Don’t you want little Hoseok here to have a big heart?” Hoseok asks him, holding the bear by its arms like it’s ready to reach out and give Yoongi a hug. If the way he holds it wasn’t enough, all he needs to do is look at the real Hoseok’s lip pouting out. He’s never been good at saying no to people.

Yoongi just sighs, nods, and says, “okay.”

“Perfect!” Hoseok says and has Yoongi warm the heart up. He demonstrates with his hands what he wants Yoongi to do, so he copies. “Then you’re going to tap on it to get that heart beating. And you’re going to want to rub it on your cheek so that little Hoseok always smiles at you. And rub it on your funny bone so your bear is full of giggles. And rub the heart on your tummy so that he gets all of the food he needs without stealing yours. And rub it on your side so that he’s by your side for life. Anyone want to chip in?” Hoseok directs the question at the two behind him.

“Rub the heart on your toes so that he is toe-tally awesome!” Taehyung says.

“Rub it on your knees so that he always knee-ds you,” Seokjin says.

Yoongi takes it all in good stride, though he’s painfully awkward as he tries to modestly follow all the commands. He wonders if they’re just messing around with him again. When he thinks of that, his entire body stiffens up. He doesn’t want them to make fun of him.

“And the last thing you need to do is hold the heart up to your face and make a wish,” Hoseok says. He looks at Yoongi and sees that he looks very uncomfortable right now, which was never his intention. He probably shouldn’t have gone overboard on giving the bear so many traits. But it’s Yoongi’s first bear and now he’s part of the group so maybe he just wanted to show off. Then he opens up the back of the bear for Yoongi to put the heart into. “I’m sorry if that was too many things. We aren’t trying to embarrass you. We just really like our job.”

“I’m only here for the view,” Seokjin says, looking across the hallway to where Namjoon is serving both smoothies and looks.

Hoseok smiles brightly and Yoongi is mesmerized by it. “Do you want to add any smells to your bear?” he asks. Yoongi doesn’t hear the question. Embarrassing himself makes him weak, and in his weak state, Hoseok’s face is able to reach inside of him. He repeats the question when Yoongi doesn’t answer, so he blanches.

“Wh-what?”

“I have smells you can add to your bear,” he says and then scoots over on his chair to point to them.

“I made a bear with four smells inside once,” Seokjin says. “One in each arm and leg. Different fruit smell in each one. He smells like a smoothie, and it reminds me of my husband.”

Taehyung makes an aww sound and Seokjin just nods because he knows that he wins cutest couple award.

“Uh, I guess,” Yoongi shrugs. “What’s your favorite?”

“Cotton candy,” Taehyung says, his eyes darkening. It’s a frequent joke that Taehyung likes the cotton candy smell. He keeps one in his apron, so he goes around everywhere smelling like cotton candy.

“I like lavender,” Seokjin smiles.

“We’re out of lavender.”

“Then I like watermelon.”

“Oh me too,” Hoseok nods. “I’m a watermelon kind of guy.”

“Let’s do watermelon,” Yoongi says. Hoseok loves how easy it is to make any grown man excited about a teddy bear at Build-A-Bear Workshop. They come in with whatever bravado they have but then you tell a guy he can make his bear smell like birthday cake and his eyes light up.

He lets Yoongi smell it and when Yoongi nods a little too eagerly his heart thuds painfully against his ribcage. He’s so pretty, he’s so pretty, he’s so pretty.

Once the smell is inside, Hoseok stitches up the bear with lightning quick precision. Yoongi can’t stop himself from looking at his hands. They look strong, but also a little blistered from all the stitching and sewing he must do. When the bear is done, he gives little Hoseok over to Yoongi. He doesn’t mean to, but he gives little Hoseok a very excited squeeze and that’s what makes big Hoseok’s mouth dry up a little bit. He can’t stop himself from imagining Yoongi cuddling the bear late at night. God, and if he actually names the bear Hoseok! He’s going to cry!

“Thank you,” Yoongi says, and Hoseok nods.

“You get to dress him up now!”

Taehyung jumps up excitedly to give him a tour of their Dress Me wall. Everyone has a favorite part of the store, and Taehyung is oddly in love with showing off all the clothes that you can put on the animals.

“Might I suggest a tiara?” Hoseok says.

Read on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

Taehyung shakes his head, “personally, I’m against shoes and tiaras because they are not as easy to cuddle in bed.”

“We also have bows!” Hoseok jumps up excitedly after picking up some loose stuffing from the floor.

Yoongi ends up putting the bear in a dinosaur pajama piece and Hoseok has never been prouder of such a marvelous creation before. Also, Yoongi lets him put the bows on the bear. This is quite possibly the most perfect bear that Hoseok has ever been witness to. He’s a soft, dark brown bear, that plays the Star Wars theme, smells like watermelon, wears a dinosaur onesie, and has pink and purple bows on his ears. He’s perfect.

“That’s hands down one of the most beautiful bears I’ve ever seen,” Seokjin says, and there’s no sarcasm to his voice which is astonishing.

Yoongi would feel self-conscious if he didn’t agree whole heartedly. Little Hoseok is one of the seven wonders of the modern world. Big Hoseok helps him to make a birth certificate which Yoongi finds adorable. True to his word, the name that goes on the birth certificate is ‘Little Hoseok.’ Big Hoseok then proceeds to take all of the tags off of the bear and his clothes and brings them to the register.

“No, it’s okay, I’ll pay,” Yoongi says.

“Um, excuse you,” Hoseok says. “I lured you over here in order to buy you a bear, you aren’t paying for shit.”

“But it’s expensive, I-”

“Listen, there’s nothing you can actually do to stop me, I’m the one who knows how to use the register,” Hoseok says. Yoongi accepts defeat, though it’s with several more “are you sure?”s. Eventually, Yoongi comes to be holding little Hoseok inside of a little box that is the perfect size to hold him. He honestly feels like ripping the bear right back out and holding him. He would probably prefer holding onto the bear’s namesake, but anything to keep him less lonely at night will do the trick. For now.

Hoseok sends Yoongi away brightly. Taehyung asks him to stick around a little longer, but he really needs to get some air, because breathing in Hoseok’s air makes him lightheaded. Aw fuck, he’s a little boy having his first crush in elementary school all over again.

***

“You know, for their first date Seokjin and Namjoon came here and recreated the scene from Ghost only instead of pottery, they made a unicorn,” Hoseok says.

“That was, like, our third date actually,” Seokjin says. Namjoon sits at the table outside of the concourse waiting for Seokjin’s shift to end. There are actually two other managers at Orange Julius that aren’t him, which is hard to believe because he’s such a workaholic. Crazy, right?

“Not to sound dramatic, guys, but that’s literally the cutest thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life,” Taehyung says.

“The unicorn was our ringbearer.”

“Even I know that’s not true. I was at the wedding,” Jungkook says.

“So was I,” Taehyung says. Literally everyone was at their wedding. It was a year after their family had truly formed. Taehyung was fresh but he was still beloved.

“Well that’s what I’m going to write in my autobiography anyway,” Seokjin shrugs.

Namjoon looks at him with stars in his eyes, very clearly hanging on his every word like he’s an angel. There’s literally never been a couple more helplessly, adorably in love as Namjoon and Seokjin. If you look too hard at them then your heart will rot away. Also, you’ll crave desperately someone to hold you. Sometimes Jimin gives extended hugs and that’s the closest Hoseok has been to a person in about seven years.

In the process of looking at the two of them clearly in love, Hoseok sees a beautiful black-haired boy come in through the service door behind them. Hoseok’s heart bumps out of key for just the briefest second before returning to normal.

“Yoongi!” He says, calling him over. It’s been about a week since Yoongi made little Hoseok and ever since, Hoseok has been very excited by his presence whenever he sees him. Not to say he wasn’t before, but it’s a little louder now. He assures himself it’s just because Yoongi seems like he’ll fit into their friend group. That’s surely all it is. It’s not just because he’s also the prettiest guy Hoseok has possibly ever seen.

“Hi Hoseok,” Yoongi says smiling softly. Either Yoongi doesn’t say hi to everyone else or Hoseok tunes it out because of the way that his mouth looks when he forms words out of it. His voice is so calming. He could read you the dictionary and you’d be fascinated by every word.

“I’ve got to go to work,” Yoongi says and waves goodbye only a minute later.

“Oh, okay,” he says. Seokjin checks his watch and realizes that Yoongi’s shift starting means that his shift is ending.

“Freedom!” he says excitedly, tearing off his apron. Namjoon smiles at him and watches Seokjin as he goes into the concourse and clocks himself out for the day. When he returns, he kisses Namjoon a little bit too passionately for public and Jungkook makes a grossed-out face. Taehyung just thinks they’re cute. Taehyung loves love a little bit too much. Whenever anyone looks like they’re in love, he thinks it’s cute. His favorite thing in the world is when couples come into the store and record their voices saying “I love you” to each other for their bears. There’s no one who does a better heart ceremony for anniversaries than Taehyung.

“Take me away from here,” Seokjin says. They’re very weird people. They’re a match made in heaven, which is evident because they each put up with each other. Seokjin climbs onto Namjoon’s back like it’s normal and they walk away with Namjoon giving him a piggyback ride. God, Hoseok wants something like that.

“I want something like that,” he says.

“If we’re both single when we’re forty I’ll be that for you,” Taehyung says. Hoseok smiles at him and nods. He loves Taehyung, but not romantically. If he’s still single at that age, god forbid, he’ll live with any of his friends so that he’s not lonely, but he does not want to kiss Taehyung even though he’s sure it would be amazing.

It’s weird. When he first met Taehyung, even though he knew he was gorgeous, he never felt an instinctual urge to run his hands through his hair and kiss his cheek. Not like he thinks about Yoongi like that or anything…

He looks over to Orange Julius at the prettiest employee. Hoseok’s not close with the other managers there; one of them is a total piece of shit, and the other is way too serious. Yoongi is getting instructions for the day from the way too serious one, and his face in profile mesmerizes Hoseok.

“Um, earth to Hoseok?” Taehyung says, waving a hand in front of his face. He looks up from his trance and realizes they have a customer. He jumps right back into customer service mode with Jungkook behind him wondering if their little Hoseokie might have a bit of a crush.

***

Read on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

“So,” Jimin says.

“So,” Hoseok replies.

“So.”

“So?”

“How do you like the new Orange Julius employee?” Jimin asks.

Hoseok frowns at him, sitting across from him at the dining room table that Jimin’s mom gifted them when they moved into their own place.

“Isn’t that something I should be asking you? You’re his coworker.”

Jimin purses his lips, “yeah, but you’ve been very eager to get him to interact with us in the group chat.”

“Are you trying to ask me for my permission so you can fuck him or something?” Hoseok asks. “Because, I really don’t think he’s gay.”

“No,” Jimin scoffs. Jimin doesn’t think that Hoseok knows he sometimes sleeps with Taehyung in a friends with benefits sort of way, but he does. Very hard to hide a secret like that from him when he’s both Jimin’s roommate and Taehyung’s boss. Hoseok is pretty sure that Jimin doesn’t know Taehyung is in love with him, but that’s just something they’ll figure out for themselves one of these days.

“Then what’s your point?”

“I’m pretty sure you want to fuck him.”

“I don’t want to fuck him,” Hoseok says, which is both a lie and the truth.

“You like him.”

“I… shut up, Jimin.”

He smirks at him and then winks. Jimin turns around to rinse off his plate, but he leaves the feeling in the air. He’s not surprised that Jimin sees through him, but he desperately hopes that he’s the only one. Yoongi can’t know that, he only just met him, and that would make their budding friendship very weird.

“When was the last time you had sex, Hoseok? I don’t think you’ve slept with someone since I met you. That’s like five years. What if it falls off?”

Hoseok throws a piece of egg at him which gets lodged in his hair. Hitting him where it hurts; Jimin cares more about his hair than he does about his health.

“Probably closer to seven years.”

“Dude! That’s a really long time.”

“I’m me, Jimin,” he says, like that’s an explanation. “I don’t sleep with people unless they’re special.”

“You never slept with me,” Jimin says, “I’m special.”

“That’s because you’re Jimin and I don’t like you,” he says, flinging another piece of food at him. He and Jimin went on one date soon after they first met. The two of them went to college and studied dance together, so it seemed to make sense at the time. They both thought dating each other might be convenient until they went on one date, found it awful and decided to instead be best friends. It’s been working out pretty well, neither of them has wanted to date the other since and it’s been nearly five years. Hoseok can’t imagine how terrible it would be if they had moved into this apartment and been trying to date. He might not have his best friend in the world if that had happened.

Jimin rolls his eyes and backs away from the projectile. “Okay, so maybe I’m getting a little ahead of myself, but I do wish you’d date someone. You have to be getting lonely over there in your room, watching porn slightly too loudly because you think I can’t hear it.” Jimin barely even attempts to pretend he’s watching porn sometimes, that’s just the kind of person he is. Hoseok’s headphones are often put to good use because of the weird things Jimin is into.

“I’ll go at my own pace,” he says. “I’m married to my job, Jimin, you know that. I put in so many hours at work, so I barely have a life unless it’s with you.”

“Do you think maybe you’re just scared of entering a relationship? I’m not talking about Yoongi in specific. I mean in general. I think it’s been so long for you that you forgot how to date.”

“That’s very probable,” Hoseok says, going back to the food in front of him which he had been eating before he started throwing it at Jimin. “What about you, though, Jimin? You haven’t found the one yet, either.” He doesn’t mention Taehyung, because surely there’s a reason that he hasn’t told Hoseok about that.

“I date!” Jimin says. But he hasn’t since he started fucking Taehyung.

“You’re just as afraid of commitment as I am.”

Jimin scowls. “That’s not true. I at least know how to date someone. I know how to be a boyfriend and how to love someone and how to… fuck. You haven’t dated since college, and that’s not real dating anyway. You’re not a real person yet until you leave college.”

“I don’t want to deal with this right now,” he says, and that’s the honest to god truth. It’s all too much to think about. Yeah, he hasn’t dated anyone in a really long time, and it’s become easy. Being single is just the way that he knows how to exist. Allowing another person into his life is far too much pressure. He’d just as soon be content or discontent not putting himself out there than try to navigate the world of dating for the first time at age 26.

But then again, wouldn’t it be nice to cuddle someone? God, his skin hungers for someone to cuddle him and put their arms around his waist and kiss his neck. He blushes at the thought. He wonders who that person will be. What do they do in their life? What do they look like? Hoseok doesn’t view himself as a real adult, so he can’t have someone with a real job. He can’t date a lawyer, because that’s a whole ass person with their life in order, and Hoseok stuffs bears for a living. He couldn’t date a doctor, because they’re in charge of making sure people don’t die, and Hoseok puts bunnies into fairy princess dresses on the regular.

It really would be convenient for the both of them if he and Jimin had romantic attraction to each other. That would be pretty great. Or if he actually liked Taehyung, or if it was seven years ago and he had beat Seokjin to Namjoon. None of those relationships would last though, because he just doesn’t like them that way, even if there was once a time when he thought he did.

Yoongi is a convenient scapegoat. He’s too young, probably straight, therefor, he’s off limits. Hoseok can’t possibly find himself wanting to be in a relationship with someone if that person is five years younger than him, so he can continue to find Yoongi attractive all he likes, and he can save himself from committing to a real relationship.

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vannahfanfics · 4 years ago

Text

One Good Turn Deserves Another

Category: Angst

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Eri

Additional Tags: Vigilante!Class 1-A

Trigger warning for themes of child abuse!

Izuku’s lips were curled into a cold, smug smile as his bright eyes beheld the lofty penthouse suite displayed by the floor-to-ceiling glass panes framing the luxurious condominiums nestled between the beach and the sprawled city complex. Izuku perched on the balcony railing of the adjacent condominiums’ penthouse complex that he was currently sharing with twenty other young vigilantes looking to score a quick buck in the chaotic, unforgiving, cold-hearted world they lived in. They’d all seen terrible, horrible things that prompted them to turn their backs on society’s definition of “hero” and carve their paths. To this day, Izuku marveled at the miracle of their coming together to form one of Japan’s most notorious heist organizations.

“Has she left yet?” Katsuki grunted as he strode out of the open set of glass doors. His heavy boots thunked against the smooth stone bottom of the balcony. Izuku’s emerald eyes remained fixed on the spread of clear glass several yards away, particularly on the thirty-something-year-old woman running a blow dryer through her voluminous brown hair. Izuku was mildly impressed with her haircare routine; even from the considerable distance, he could see the ripples of her hair gloss with the fluorescents’ unflattering light. Her bathroom was as large as the standard bedroom, but that didn’t mean the condos invested in slightly better lightbulbs.

“Not yet,” Izuku responded without looking at his number-one partner-in-crime. “We still have fifteen minutes until her suitor is supposed to pick her up.” Katsuki only grunted in response, watching with disdain as the older woman smoothed nonexistent creased from the sapphire blue dress that hugged her figure in every scandalous way possible. Izuku could almost hear her six-inch-heels clacking as she exited the bathroom to cross through the walls. She disappeared into the bowels of the suite to head towards the penthouse door.

“What’s this broad do again that makes her richer than God?”

“She’s the assistant CEO of a software development company specializing in programming high-tech support items.” Indeed, the infamous burglars had targeted her after multiple magazine spotlights and television specials revealed her lavish life’s intimate details, down to a complete tour of her pompous penthouse home. The exposés had been mainly focused on her widowed status, chronicling her tumultuous rise to fame after her husband’s sudden death after only a few years of blissful marriage. Izuku remembered the bitter tears streaming from her eyes as she reminisced about her loving husband. The waterworks had cemented in his mind that she was the perfect victim for their newest scheme.

Katsuki and Izuku both straightened slightly as the receivers in their ears buzzed with static.

“Hey, hey!” Izuku could hear Denki’s broad grin in the fuzzy audio of the transceiver. “The John’s in the building and heading up to the penthouse.” Izuku pressed the respond button to answer, still crouching on the railing by balancing on his metal-plated boots. Denki always served as their mole, because his easygoing and sunny personality just lured people into a false sense of security so easily.

“Is it time?” Hanta called as he poked his head out of the open glass doors.

“Almost.” Hanta stuck out a thumbs-up before vanishing into the room, shouting for Ochako and Mina to go out onto the balcony for Phase II of the rob-the-rich-lady plan. Ochako trotted out onto the lengthy stone structure, chewing on a licorice candy as she leaned against the railing beside Izuku.

“If only I’d lived like that, life could’ve been so much different,” the brunette mourned sourly as she tore off a large chunk of the red candy and crushed it between her teeth with excessive force. Izuku laughed dryly with a nod of agreement.

“I would feel bad because she’s a single mother, but wait until the world sees the reports of employee abuse we mailed into the news networks,” he laughed gleefully. Sure, they stole and occasionally beat people to a bloody pulp, but only people who deserved it. Many of the common folk revered them as a troupe of Robin Hoods, stealing from the obnoxiously wealthy and abusive to aid the poor and struggling. At least, that’s what many of them told themselves to justify their questionable deeds. Try as they like to harden their hearts to their bitter realities, sometimes their human sides tried to nose back into their lives.

“She’s leaving,” came Denki’s quick report in their transponders. Izuku could hear girlish giggling and the baritone droning of a man in the background of the audio. Denki, disguised in a janitor’s outfit, whistled as stood with his mop and side-eyed them. “Heading up. Be there or be square.”

“All right. Denki’s moving in to disable the motion sensors,” Izuku reported. Mina had joined them on the balcony, and she enthusiastically punched the air with her fists.

“All right! Let’s bleed this bitch for everything she has!” the pink girl crowed. Izuku languidly stood up on the metal railing, balancing his center to stand at his full height with only the thin rail cementing him to the building. Ochako skipped over to touch Mina with her pink finger pads, and the girl immediately floated up a few inches from the balcony, giggling as she did so.

“I can never get used to how weird this feels!” Mina trilled, laughing joyfully as Hanta pushed the back of her head to make her body somersault in the air slowly. As she righted herself, Izuku grabbed her gently by the elbow to drift her to the balcony rail. “All right! The Mina Rocket is ready to go!” she declared. Izuku grinned widely, then flung Mina to send her sailing across the gap between the buildings. The few patrons lingering by the pool failed to notice the pink vigilante floating in the sky in the dark fringe of the lofty condos. Katsuki snorted as Mina bumped into the window with a gentle smack. She hurriedly grasped onto the building’s thin stone rim before she bounced off. She hovered beside the building, staring at the red blip of light within the condo’s dark recesses that indicated the security system was still armed.

“How are you doing, Denki?”

“Me ‘n Yaomomo are almost in position.” Momo had also been deployed to the condominium, posing as a member of the cleaning staff. By now, the security officer should be passed out from a sleeping drought so their bonafide genius could replace the camera feeds with loops and replaced footage to eliminate the evidence of their involvement before it even existed. The video would show that Denki and Momo had gotten off on entirely different floors, when in fact, they would proceed to the penthouse to assist in the heist. No one would ever be the wiser that two moles had been planted in the staff.

There was a reason they’d evaded Interpol, the Japanese Bureau of Investigation, and the Hero Commission for so long, after all. The young group of vigilantes dotted all their I’s, crossed all their T’s, and checked them twice.

“The cameras are set,” Momo reported, whispering not to wake the slumbering guard. “The footage is good for about an hour. Let’s make the most of it.”

“Almost done,” Denki hummed in the same channel. A faint crackling of electricity sounded as he essentially fried the security system controls. Faintly, Izuku could see the red light blip green.

As soon as Momo and Denki reported in, Mina melted the glass with her acid, reducing it to a goop steaming on the wooden floorboards. Mina worked quickly and efficiently to carve a large hole into the window, then daintily stepped into the living room to tut at the blackened, smoking area rug. As soon as she safely entered the penthouse, Ochako released her Quirk, allowing Mina the land on the plush carpet and appraise the lofty home.

“All right, guys, let’s move in.” Izuku used his Quirk to propel himself across the divide, bending the railing as he blasted off it. He’d bend it back later. He landed deftly in the center of the living room, clicking his tongue at the sheer obnoxiousness of the interior decor. It probably cost more than all of her employees combined made in a year. Disgusted, Izuku made a point to bend the metal floor lamp in half, exposing the wire to make sparks jump from the now-frayed metal pieces. While the others quietly used their Quirks to jump into the penthouse and Denki picked the lock so he and Momo could stroll in, Izuku set to ransacking the place to discover where the software mogul hid her stacks of cash. The others began pilfering everything valuable in sight; Tooru and Asui sprinted to the master bedroom, keen on scoring the jewelry the woman had been sure to show off in her many interviews.

Izuku ignored the triumphant hoots and hollers as he meandered down a hallway. Just to be thorough, he opened the side closet, disinterestedly pulling out the Egyptian sheets of every color and numerous comforters to fling them into a pile on the floor. Nothing hid behind the cottony masses, and he almost abandoned the effort until he spied a suspiciously square seam in the wood peeking out.

“Hello,” he grinned and crouched down to pry the false floor up with his fingers. Izuku had been expecting a hidden stash of cash or coins, perhaps a safe containing embezzlement or fraud documents.

He was not expecting a pair of bright red eyes and a pale round face to be peeking up at him.

Izuku froze. He blinked, and the pale face shrouded by the darkness blinked back. He continued to hold up the small nook entrance, oblivious to Katsuki stomping down the hall toward him.

“Oi, what the fuck are you- what the fuck?” The blond hissed in a breath, making the small form within the crawlspace cringe in fright. With a flip of his index finger, Izuku bid Katsuki to turn on the hallway light. As he complied, the white light cascaded over Izuku’s hunched form to crash into the small space, illuminating a very tiny, disheveled little girl. Her red, puffy eyes slowly blinked as she regarded Izuku with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

“Are you here to steal me?”

Izuku almost lost it. Literally. He become so infuriated that his Quirk jumped out, sending red streaks and green lighting blazing across his skin. Clenching his teeth hard and breathing steadily through his nose, he managed to force his power back into control and give the little girl a strained smile. It was just so hard not to go ballistic and tear the entire penthouse upside down, because this was the most pathetic little girl Izuku had ever seen. Her white-gray hair framed her round face and her red eyes glittered like blood moons in the light. A little horn protruded from her forehead. Why the hell was this child locked in a crawlspace in a goddamn hallway closet while the penthouse owner gallivanted off on a booty call?

“Yeah,” Izuku smiled pleasantly. “Yeah,” he repeated, convincing himself to commit to the radical change in plans. “That’s right.” His heart crushed in on itself as her eyes widened and she beamed brightly. She flung herself forward with a delighted squeal to wrap her thin arms around Izuku’s neck, burning her face into his sternum. The girl immediately began bawling loudly, spreading snot and tears all over the spandex of his suit.

“Ungh… I… I’m so happy… I-I’ve been waiting so long for someone to know I was here… That I existed…” Izuku didn’t have the heart to tell her that he had no earthly idea she was in the penthouse, let alone related to the woman. “Mommy… Mommy locks me in here because she doesn’t want people to know. She hates me; she tells me so. She says I need to suffer, so I’m locked away to be forgotten. Just like everyone forgot Daddy, she says,” she blubbered between wails and cries. Izuku’s hands remained limply at his sides, too stunned with the cascade of events to properly comfort the girl. Her crying had attracted the attention of his cohorts, and they crammed into the small hallway to observe the strange happenings. She began to sob harder.

“I didn’t mean it… I didn’t mean to make Daddy go away. It was an accident. An accident.” She palmed her small horn, sniveling, and it took Izuku a few seconds to puzzle out that the little girl’s Quirk had likely manifested and killed her father. It wasn’t common, but certainly not unheard of. Children with powerful, uncontrollable Quirks posed real and present dangers. The girl sniffled as she rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palm. “Mommy says it’s my fault. She says that my punishment is to be locked away and feel what it’s like to be forgotten. She tells me that one day she’ll forget me too, and I’m going to die, all alone.”

Katsuki began cursing profusely under his breath, sparks popping from his palms as his fury mounted.

“This is fucking ridiculous; are we gonna fucking stand for this? This bitch has her daughter locked in a fucking hole in the wall and is out there schmoozing some fuckin’ asshole-! I can’t; I fuckin’ can’t, I need- Ooooooh…!” As he grew more and more enraged, he stomped off into a side bedroom and began flinging furniture around with his herculean strength. Izuku had regained some semblance of his wits, so he hugged the small girl tightly to his person and petted her long silvery hair. Suddenly, she blinked at him.

“Wait… You aren’t here to kill me, are you? Did my mom… Did she finally…?” As her red eyes flooded with fresh tears, Izuku hurriedly shushed her and pressed his cheek against the side of her head.

“No, no, that’s not why we’re here at all.”

“That’s right! We’re thieves!” Tooru beamed theatrically as she jumped over, waving her gloves around ecstatically. The little girl’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head upon witnessing an invisible woman for the first time. “We’re gonna steal you away to happier life!” The girl’s eyebrows shot up, and she craned her head to look at Izuku.

“That’s right!” he confirmed with a cheesy grin. “Stealing is what burglars do best, right?” The girl squealed as he hoisted her up with his hands under her armpits. Her little legs kicked happily at the sudden rush of air around her. With a smile, Izuku plopped her against him, one beefy arm hooked under her comparably tiny frame. Her little hands rested on his broad shoulder, and her bright smile illuminated the condominium better than the sun ever could. When a few more loud crashes, thumps, and curses drifted down the hall, she looked worriedly towards the room Katsuki had stamped into.

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s just sorting out his feelings,” Denki laughed as he sidled up. “Hiya! What’s your name, squirt?” he asked as he playfully shook her hand.

“Eri,” she giggled.

“Eri! What a cute name,” Kyoka appraised with a nod. The others greeted her jovially as Izuku carried her into the living room. Her eyes widened when she beheld the overturned and broken furniture.

“What are you all looking for besides me?”

“What kind of burglars would we be if we didn’t take your mom’s money?” Shoto quipped monotonously as he resumed emptying drawers. Izuku flushed with embarrassment at the boy’s bluntness, and Eri screwed her face up into a frown.

“Mommy isn’t a nice person. She takes money from the company and robs the workers; I hear her say so on the phone. She laughs about it.” Eri glanced concernedly up at Izuku. “What are you going to do with the money?”

“Uh! Oh, um, we’re not gonna do anything bad,” he reassured as he strolled over to the gaping hole in the window. “We’re honest burglars. We steal from bad people and share it with good people.” It was true. They’d made anonymous donations to charities and underfunded schools and local businesses, built a children’s park overnight for a low-income neighborhood, and committed countless other good-Samaritan deeds. Of course, some of that they pocketed for personal interests and paying off essential figures, but hey, it was an investment for more heists and more good deeds, in the long run. At his explanation, Eri hummed satisfactorily and hugged his neck, her cheek squishing against his.

“I see. That’s nice!” She then inhaled slightly as the wind whistled through the window, ruffling her hair and nightgown. Izuku smiled sympathetically as she gulped, peeking down at the ground so very far below. “Are we… Going to jump?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. It’s how I came, you know. We can make it! I’m going to hold on real tight to you,” he reassured her jovially. Eri nodded slowly, rotating her head to peek back at his friends, who had resumed rummaging around the apartment. Katsuki had satiated his ire and stalked back into the main room to oversee the operation. “Don’t worry about them. They’re just finishing the job. They’ll probably stay a little while, because… Well, as we like to say, one good turn deserves another.”

The tone in the room shifted immediately. It grew dead silent as Izuku’s unspoken order dropped the temperature of the room several degrees. His grin and emerald eyes were eerily bright as he eyed them over Eri’s head. “Right, guys?”

“Right,” Tenya whistled as he picked up the sheets in the hall and began shredding them into thin strips of cloth. Silence descended as the vigilantes began searching the penthouse once more, but their minds were no longer on cash and evidence, but something else entirely. Eri blinked repeatedly as she struggled to grasp the shift in the tension and gave Izuku an inquisitive stare.

“Don’t worry about it,” Izuku smiled and patted the top of her head. “When tomorrow morning comes, everyone will know you exist.” Eri’s blood moon eyes widened as a big grin slowly spread across her round face.

“Really? You mean it?”

“Every word,” he promised. “You gotta swear, though, to keep a secret.” Eri nodded vigorously. “You can’t tell anyone about who rescued you. It’ll be a secret between just us, okay? Pinky-swear.” Izuku held up his scarred pinky, and Eri readily looped her tiny one with his, linking them in an eternal promise. “Good. Remember, one good turn deserves another. We saved you, so you help us keep our identities safe so we can keep helping other people.” With that, Izuku hugged her tight and activated his Quirk to once more spring between the two buildings. She inhaled wondrously as the wind rushed through her hair, and looked up to see the starry night sky after so long deprived of their soft, simple light.

~~~~~~~~~~

As Izuku had promised, Eri’s story was blown wide open alongside the software mogul’s scandalous finances and business practices. Izuku and the others had left Eri asleep in the penthouse suite with all their documents and scathing evidence of Eri’s abuse and the money the woman had stolen from her business partner. They dropped an anonymous call to the police to inform them of the girl’s location, and then retreated to a safe distance within the city to watch the media massacre unfold.

The woman was discovered first. She was brought out by police not visibly harm but clearly scared within an inch of her life. Being suspended from a penthouse with only a decorative chair and some Egyptian cotton sheets to anchor you to safety would do that to a person. Next, when Izuku and the others dropped the call, the flocks of the press began to babble theories as the police swarmed into the adjacent penthouse. They’d also given anonymous information to the news media, who immediately jumped on the tragic tale of the little girl. Eri’s eyes were huge as the cop carried her carefully out of the condo, amazed by all the noise and activity developing around her. Izuku could just tell by the teary smile on her face that she was thinking, They know I’m here. They’re happy I’m safe.

When one of the reporters shoved a microphone into her face and demanded to know who her rescuers and mother’s assailants were, Eri just smiled sheepishly.

“It’s a secret. I can’t tell. You know, one good turn deserves another.”

Izuku grinned to himself, biting down on his bottom lip in satisfaction.

Sure, they weren’t saints. They’d stolen, and assaulted, and publicly slandered plenty. However, seeing that little girl’s smile broadcast on the big screen for the world to see, ready to leave an arduous life behind her and step out into the light, reminded Izuku of why he’d turned to such an existence in the first place.

Real heroes made real change through whatever means necessary. Because, as he said… One good turn deserves another, and one bad deed brings down righteous fury.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork

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