#eira rundström

[thehuggamugcafe]

Wait, we can ask for Christmas hcs??? Ooooh, let me hit you up with a silly one: what kind of themed sweater would wear our bois + Eira during the period?

OOC: Now this is my kind of ask!

Bless your sweet heart for asking for this, Krisachan!

I already had a tab opened with ‘Christmas sweaters’, actually. Haha.

What an odd coincidence, but since I’m in this particular mood…

Let us begin, shall we? No promises for picking out ugly sweaters. ☕

Akira Kurusu:

Ren Amamiya:

ArsèneLupin:

Eira Rundström:

[thehuggamugcafe]

Tête-à-tête

OOC: @kouryuudielysion @honningmuno. I hereby eternally bless you dears for introducing me to the Maurice Leblanc novels. Now I have more food for thought for this beloved dork, hoho~! I love you both so much more now!

The title is in French, meaning a private (usually intimate) moment between two people.

I decided to deviate from my usual servings, and try something different for a change. “Test the waters” if you will. This time the pairing will be everybody’s favourite gentleman thief, Monsieur Arsène Lupin (from the novels and way younger, for obvious reasons) and Eira Rundström for this little musing.

Let me know what y’all think of this, or if you’d like to see more like this, please and thank you, but for now...

Sit back, relax with your favourite beverage and/or snack, and indulge in some... surprisingly lacking writing! I feel kind of meh about this, to be honest. Please enjoy, dear customers. ☕

It was laughable. It was absurd. It was an amusing little tale, one that was oftentimes read to bright-eyed little girls before bedtime.

But...

This tale was, in fact, as corporeal as the late-night escapades a certain young man indulged himself in whenever it pleased him.

It happened frequently, perhaps too often for his partner’s liking.

Arsène Lupin.

A gentleman thief of untold prominence; indeed, one could argue that he was a living legend. He earned himself the reputation of being Sherlock Holmes’ biggest headache, always a step or two ahead of his so-called “arch-nemesis.” The widely-known detective had not only pledged to arrest the famous (or rather infamous) burglar again, but swore that the well-known thief remained behind bars for good at that!

Certainly, a detective of Sherlock Holmes’ notoriety wasn’t someone no man, no criminal who was sound of mind laughed at.

No man except Arsène Lupin, that is.

His laid-back attitude, remaining calm, coolly collected, and perhaps even confident, cocky, always so sure of himself even when his freedom---indeed, even his very life---was at risk, and yet... And yet...

That charming, pleasant little grin never left his lips.

That mischievous twinkle in his gaze never left.

So cheeky. So confident. Never doubting himself for even a second.

She wished she could feel so confident in herself.

She wished she could hold her head as high as he did, and it frustrated her... No, it infuriated her that he did as he pleased without a care in the world.

Eira Rundström was nothing but a simple barmaid, someone who served food and drinks to newcomers who stumbled in through the dinky establishment’s door, fresh out of bed or already inebriated from drowning their woes in a pint at a different bar. Half of her “down time” was spent working a few hours at a quaint little bakery, on a different, slightly more hospitable part of London.

She was no one special. She wasn’t one who upheld the law, nor was she one who broke it. She adhered by the law, but at times, she found herself quietly acknowledging the reality that sometimes the rules could be bent, even outright defied if the cause was just.

Thus, she silently admitted that if anyone’s cause was just, if anyone’s morality was driven by some lukewarm, obscure sense of righteousness...

It was his moral code.

Arsène Lupin’s code of honour.

“Must you taunt Holmes so?”

“If I am teased in rebuttal, I see no reason not to repay his kindness, my dear.”

“Really now?”

She remembered sneering at him, her blue irises resembling chipped ice as she stared at him, unimpressed at his flippant, cheerful attitude. There he stood, having slipped himself free from the shackles of a cold prison cell a few days ago, glowing with pride. The sort of self-righteous ego only someone like Arsène Lupin could attest to.

The sort of self-righteous ego that rubbed Eira Rundström’s nerves, in every possible erroneous way.

“One would think you enjoyed your brief stint in jail more than you did being a free man.”

He laughed at her, smiling and baring a teasing hint of pearly whites as he did.

“Oh? Perhaps the lovely rose who refuses to allow a man to hold her is worried for this gentleman? You honour me, truly.”

“Monsieur Lupin... For a gentleman, and a thief at that... You are just so...”

She remembered pausing mid-sentence, her brows furrowed as they lightly pinched the slant of her glaring eyes as he stared down at her, a brow quirked as he patiently awaited a reply from her.

His grin countered her frown, her pursed lips. It always did.

Finally, she breathed a slow, drawn-out sigh.

“You’ll get caught again, and you damn well know where you’ll be!”

That was what she had hissed to him during one of their late nocturnal meetings. Her protest had been smoothly silenced by a pair of warm lips.

“Ah, mademoiselle, if I am to be locked in a cage, then...”

A pause, then...

A soft, crooning purr left him, tickled the back of his throat as he breathed a laugh into her ear. He raised his hands, cupping a blushing cheek in a gloved palm, cradling her face between ten leather-covered fingers.

She tried to deny it, she tried to will herself from ignoring it, but the more she tried to put some distance between herself and the man in front of her, the more she realized...

“Will you let me melt the icy bars that locks up that beloved treasure...? The one men have sought, but never claimed? The one that beats inside you?”

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

It was impossible.

She remembered pursing her lips, quietly shaking her head, or shaking it as much as she could; Arsène still held her rose-coloured cheeks in his leather-clad hands, after all.

“...Please do not feel pressured, my lady.”

The soft warmth of his lips descended on hers again.

“If it is your wish... I will go no further than this... You have my word.”

She was sure he was the one who was surprised, feeling her fingertips slowly, carefully running over his digits as her hands were raised, holding his. Eira quietly noted how the smooth leather contrasted with her bare skin, and it brought her a quiet, sudden surge of longing.

She wondered how his gloved hands would feel roaming her body.

She wondered so many things, but for the time being...

She couldn’t help but wonder what he thought when, instead of words, a kiss was his reply. A tender, unsure lip-lock that told a tale of a woman who hadn’t known the lips or the touch of a man.

“...My heart is yours, Arsène Lupin.”

[thehuggamugcafe]

It’s The Holidays...

So I’m celebrating it the only way I know how to.

Besides enjoying the mad rush of buying last-minute gifts, and worrying what to get my family and friends. I suck at buying gifts. I’d be happy if someone told me they wanted money or a gift card or... something.

Sigh.

Anyways...

I’ve been listening to “12 Days of Christmas” a lot lately, and I thought, “Huh. What if I posted something, letting my customers request some naughty holiday-related musings?”

Yes. I like this song. Not as much as I did when I was younger, but, eh.

However...

Please be aware that I will be limiting this to 12 customers.

First come, first served.

So...

Order up, my dears. ☕

[thehuggamugcafe]

Forehead kiss for Incubus!Arsene, if you don't mind! For some reason, to me, such gesture is extremely intimated. In fact, could you make the Reader be the one who initiate it?❤❤❤❤❤❤

OOC: Okay, so… I’m strangely in the mood for this right now?

Thanks for requesting this, my-arietta. I’ll do my best to give it justice, to make up for the 24-day-long wait!

Much obliged for your request/order, dear! Cheers, and enjoy! ☕

A silent sigh left the pursed lips of a certain barista: Arsène Lupin.

Various clinks and clatters were heard as the noiret, obsidian-eyed employee collected spoons, forks, knives, plates, cups, and glasses. They were balanced precariously in both hands, threatening to spill over and hit the floor of the Huggamug Café, fragmenting upon contact.

Dishes clattered and glasses clinked as the dark-haired man walked over to the prep area, arriving just in time to watch as it was bumped open by the clothed hip of his employer, Eira.

Her icy irises eyeballed him, watching him as she held the door open for him, glancing over her shoulder to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid.

Such as tripping over his feet and dropping several dishes to the floor.

That was one mess she’d prefer not having to clean up, especially since she swept and mopped the prep area’s floor 20 minutes ago.

Still…

Eira breathed a sigh, pursing her lips as she pivoted sharply on her heel, whirling on the noiret, onyx-eyed employee.

“Arsène, here. Switch.”

The gentleman quirked a brow, breathing a soft “ah?” as he set a small stack of plates on the counter top next to the sink.

“Ms. Rundström?”

“Give me those.”

The short barista set the serving tray she held on the counter adjacent to her, whisking the rest of the dishes from Arsène’s hands. He blinked slowly, owlishly, his onyx gaze trailing to the serving tray she nodded at with her head.

“Corner table near the window.”

“Yes, Ms. Rundström. Right away.”

It was a bit awkward, but the dark-haired male bowed as he gripped the serving tray in his hands.

The prep area door opened as Arsène stepped through, sliding shut as he waded around the service counter. He strapped on a warm, welcoming smile as he approached the table in question: a corner table near the window. 

The customer glanced up at his approaching footsteps, smiling slightly as he set your order down in front of you.

“Will that be all, mademoiselle?”

You nodded, and a spoke a few words of soft thanks.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Please let me know if you need anything else-”

However, his eyes widened slightly as he felt a hand slowly, carefully reach for his. He felt slim fingers wrapping around the leather fabric that covered his fingers, his knuckles, gently tugging him down as you got up, slowly, oh so slowly.

He felt a soft warmth linger on his forehead for a few moments, and he recognized the sensation for what it was.

A kiss.

You had just kissed him on the forehead.

He willed back a blush, smiling thinly as he breathed a laugh.

“My, that was quite a welcomed surprise, my dear. I wonder…”

For a moment, and only a moment, his obsidian eyes flashed reddish orange.

“What other surprises do you have in store for this gentleman?”

[thehuggamugcafe]

❝ did you hear about the witch roaming around this town on halloween night? ❞

OOC: I spy with my little eye… A classy writer!

I’m suddenly in the mood for this sort of ask, yes indeed!

By the way… I did some research on witches and such, so I’m sorry if some things aren’t accurate.

Cheers, and do enjoy, you marvellous writer! ☕

“Hey, Boss. Did you hear? A witch is supposed to live in this area!”

The dark-haired head barista stared at the customer addressing her. She wasn’t surprised who it was. She was likeable enough, if Eira’s opinion was worth anything, but she placed too much faith in the rumour mill that circulated throughout Tokyo.

“Hah?” Eira drawled, clicking her tongue.

The foreigner looked as bored as she sounded, her icy irises shining with vapid interest.

“A witch? I don’t believe in that sort of nonsense.”

“It’s true!” One of the customers insisted, nodding enthusiastically. “I saw her last Halloween, but I didn’t get a good look at her!”

So they’re not completely sure if the witch is actually real, but they believe in her anyway? How stupid are people nowadays? Eira thought, pursing her lips.

“Hey, hey, Halloween’s in two days! We should totally try and catch a better glimpse of her this year!”

“Yeah! Ooh, ooh! I’ll bring my camera this time!”

“Doofus. She’ll get spooked if you bring your camera! Or she’ll get pissed and hex you!”

“True, but maybe she’ll curse you with bad luck! I’d like to see you trying to snag the guy you like then!”

Sometimes, customers believe in the silliest things. Witches exist? Don’t make me laugh.

The whole thing stunk of superstitious bull if anyone were to ask her what she thought about the “witches exist” belief, a belief that was surprisingly popular among teens and young women.

Apparently, even in modern times, such an old-fashioned trend was still romanticized, and still demonized by the people who claimed to be intelligent, however…

The fact that the customers immediately jumped to such conclusions that they’d be hexed or cursed, should they anger the witch spoke volumes of their intelligence, or lack thereof.

Eira sighed and shook her head; it was best not to dwell on meaningless things. She had a business to run, after all… She couldn’t afford to let herself be distracted by things—and conceptions—that didn’t interest her whatsoever.

The foreign barista’s icy blue gaze fell on a blonde, violet-eyed woman sitting by herself in a table near the window. A few books were set in front of her, lying flat open, their pages bared to her sight. Her brows furrowed every now and then as she gripped a pencil in her dominant hand, scratching down notes.

The heels of Eira’s suede shoes clicked as she approached the customer’s table, and the blonde glanced up, blinking once.

“…Yes?”

“Would you like a refill? Any dessert you’d like to go with it?”

“…A slice of tiramisu cake, if you have it, please.”

“Coming up.”

Eira nodded and took the customer’s cup, pausing as she stopped to glance back at the woman.

“…Excuse me.”

The blonde glanced up at being addressed by the manager of the Huggamug Café, violet eyes meeting Eira’s icy stare.

“Yes?”

“What’s your name?”

A pause, but then…

“…Mellows. Raven Mellows.”

Eira nodded and smiled slightly. “I’ll be back shortly, Raven.”

Eventually, night fell, and aside from the two baristas, and a few customers who lingered before closing time, the café was almost empty. Almost. The nearly constant giggles, simpering coos, and flirtatious remarks (remarks that borderlined on inappropriate) floated up into the atmosphere.

“Hey, nuisance. You’re free to go home for the evening. Here’s your pay.”

Eira all but forcefully shoved an envelope into the clothed chest of her smirking employee, his warm onyx irises twinkling merrily behind the black-framed glasses that sat on his nose.

“Aww. Just when the loitering was beginning to get exciting.”

Eira voiced an annoyed tut, rolling her eyes heavenward as the giggles of some nearby customers rose up into the warm, brightly lit interior of the coffee shop.

Akira lingered behind his workplace long enough to hang his barista apron in the prep area, smile and charm his way past the customers who still lingered in the café.

“Hey, Akira. When will we see you again?”

“In your dreams, sweetheart.”

“Heeey, that’s rude of you to say so.”

“I’m serious, dear.”

“But, c’mon~. Come home with me tonight. Please?”

“I’m sorry, darling, but I’ve already chosen my companion for tonight.”

“Aww.”

“You’ll treat us better tomorrow won’t you, Akira?”

“Of course I will. You’ll be treated as a lady should be treated.”

Smiling, no, smirking, Akira’s bespectacled eyes fell on the blonde, violet-eyed customer who was beginning to put her books, notebooks, pencils and such into the small backpack, slinging it over her shoulder.

“Well, shall I see you home tonight, my dear Raven~?”

Violet irises stared long and hard at the noiret, still bearing the small, tooth-filled smirk as he raised a hand, gently pushing the black-framed specs up a bit.

“…Let’s go.”

“Yes, yes, my fair lady. As you say.”

The pair left the café, the soles of their heels clicking on the sidewalk. Concrete gave way to a patch of gravel as the duo bravely took a shortcut through a cemetery.

The moon hung behind a thin cover of cloud, shining its cold glare down upon the ground. Stars twinkled in the nocturnal horizon, and a crow cawed a few times before it flapped its wings, flying off of the headstone it had been perched on seconds earlier.

“…Do you think Eira suspects anything?”

“Not at all.”

“…I sure hope not. It would be… troubling if she ever caught on.”

“She won’t.”

“She’s not stupid, Akira.”

“She’s also not superstitious, my beautiful Raven. She doesn’t believe in ghosts, witches, magic, and what-have-you.”

Raven breathed a quiet “hm” in response to the frizzy-haired barista’s words.

“…Hey, did you hear about the witch roaming around this town on Halloween night?”

Raven’s question earned her a short, hearty laugh from the onyx-eyed man, smiling as his glasses glinted, and for a moment…

There was a flash of crimson in his eyes.

“Perhaps I did… Did you hear about the demon who will be accompanying this witch on Hallows’ Eve this year?”

Raven smirked.

“Maybe I did.”

[thehuggamugcafe]

A Shout Out...

To one of my first customers.

One of my customers who’s stuck by this Barista’s side, through the good times and not-so-good times.

One of my customers who’s there to reassure me that I’m doing well, even when I’m not doing anything at all, i.e., working.

Inhale. Exhale.

Y’all want to see the lovely badge she made of Eira?

Isn’t she freaking amazing?!

My heartfelt thanks goes out to the amazing and supportive @askkrisachan!

Thank you very much for this, dear! This is definitely a good mood lifter! ☕

[thehuggamugcafe]

Oh wait, we have to specify- from Akira, I think? If that’s not right, I apologize 😅 - Melody

OOC: Hello and good evening, Melody. I hope you’re fine, and that today’s been a good day for you so far.

Haha, it’s quite alright; no harm done on your part. Thank you for the clarification, though.

Understood. One smooch from incubus!Akira coming right up, dear. Enjoy. ☕

To be honest, Akira wasn’t sure what he expected.

A part of him thought it was foolish to set up a kissing booth, of all things.

Even more foolish was that it was set up directly outside the Huggamug Café.

The icing on the cake was that the small sign propped up on Akira’s left read, “One kiss for 500 yen.”

 He wouldn’t have minded so much if it wasn’t slightly below freezing, but Eira periodically checked up on him, oftentimes with a thermos containing piping hot coffee, compliments of the dark-haired foreigner herself.

“Sorry for having you do this, but it’s for charity reasons, Kurusu.”

“Then get Ren or Arsène to do it.”

“I would, but I selected you. Plus, they’re busy working right now.”

His employer’s voice echoed in his mind, and he mentally relieved the feeling of a rolled up magazine pressing into his chest, and he felt a pair of phantom ice-blue irises staring into his obsidian gaze.

“Now get to it already. This should be easy for you; it’s your area of expertise, after all.”

“Right away, Boss.”

And so, he waited, sipping on the hot coffee the thermos contained until, finally, approaching footsteps made him glance up.

The frizzy-haired barista blinked once, his mouth opening to speak.

“…Greetings, dear. A kiss for the waiting lady?” 

He watched her face, always watched for a reaction, a negative reaction as a hand gently reached for hers.

For a moment, and only a moment, the noiret applied a soft squeeze to the female’s customer’s fingers before he tugged her in as he leaned in until, finally…

The soft warmth of her mouth pressed against his, lips gently meshed together for a few fleeting seconds, a few short moments that stretched on into eternity.

The kiss ended almost as soon as it started, as the frizzy-haired demon leaned away. The incubus’s warm onyx irises peered into the customer’s eyes, a delighted shimmer passing through his observant stare.

Akira took a few seconds to appreciate the faint dust of colour highlighting the young woman’s cheeks, smiling softly as he breathed a laugh into her face, blushing cheeks and all.

“…That will be 500 yen, my lady.”

[thehuggamugcafe]

How would everyone react if their S/O wanted to work at the cafe with them?

OOC: Hello and good afternoon, Summer. This Barista hopes you’re well, and that your day is nothing but smooth sailing so far!

Precise and to-the-point as always, aren’t you? I love orders like this.

Certainly! One combo order coming right up, dear! Please enjoy!

To everyone else: enjoy this quadruple serving as well. Cheers, dears!

Lastly, credit goes to the amazing @the-corgi-persona for helping me out with Arsène’s bit. So thank you, corgi dear! You’re a saint!☕

Akira Kurusu

Recently, you’d been laid off from your job. It wasn’t just you, but more than half of your fellow co-workers had been notified that, unfortunately, due to over-staffing and the recent shuffling of roles, they could no longer work there.

For two whole months, you sent out résumés to wherever you could think of. You see a “now hiring” billboard outside the business? You pass in a résumé. You see a “help wanted” sign in the window of a coffee shop? You hand in arésuméto the manager.

You snagged an interview here and there, but never got past putting your foot in the door.

No matter how many times you heard the words, “You’ll hear from us in a few days” from the head manager of the place you scouted out, you never did.

Needless to say, you were beginning to feel a bit disheartened. You felt that you’d never get anywhere.

Fortunately, there were two shining rays of hope presented to you.

The first was the ever-constant presence of your live-in boyfriend, Akira Kurusu.

He was there when you shuffled in after a long day of passing out résumé after another, looking as downtrodden as you felt. He was there with a steaming plate of curry and a hot cup of coffee or tea, ready to serve with a dazzling, award-winning smile curling his lips. He was there to hold you close, kiss you, and tenderly whisper, “Don’t get discouraged, dear. I’m sure you’ll get somewhere. Please keep trying.”

The second ray of hope showed itself in the form of a “help wanted” sign in the window of the Huggamug Café one early fall morning.Akira’s eyes lit up the moment he saw it, punching in the necessary information and sending it to you via a text message.

It took some convincing on Akira’s part, but the next day during his shift, he watched as you stood in front of the manager, EiraRundström. Everything from your trembling figure, to your wide eyes, to the beads of sweat dripping down your face screamed, “I’m anxious!” as you handed in a résumé.

The day after you showed up and handed in a résumé, Eira called you, asking when was a good time for your interview. Nervous, you spluttered out a random date and time.

The day of your interview, you were a nervous wreck. Your hands dripped with sweat as they shook, fingers clutching the tacky dress pants that covered your legs as Eira asked question after question.

Afterwards, you couldn’t hide your low spirits as the all too familiar words of the manager echoed in your mind. “I’ll be in touch.” However, the day after your interview, much to your surprise…

The manager contacted you, asking you when you could begin working at the coffee shop. Still surprised, you asked her, “T-Thank you. I can begin as soon as possible, but… Why am I the lucky candidate? You had other interviews, didn’t you?”

It took a few moments for the young woman to reply, but finally…

“You’re that idiot’s partner, right? Someone needs to keep an eye on him when I can’t deal with him. The other women didn’t care for work, or the café’s policy; they care more for Akira. I don’t have the time or patience to entertain the nonsensical whims of people like that, not when I have a business to run.”

For a few moments, the manager was silent before adding, “So… Is tomorrow morning a good time for you? Eight o’clock sharp. There’s no excuses you can give me that I’ll accept.”

Behind you, standing in front of the sink and washing the dishes, Akira snuck a glance at you, watching as a pleased grin pulled on your lips.

He smiled as your voice rang out, clear as a church bell. “Tomorrow morning is fine! Thank you very much for your time, Ms.Rundström!”

No sooner had you hung up the phone, a giddy smile curling your lips, you felt arms encircling your waist as a voice crooned in your ear. “See, darling? Didn’t your handsome devil tell you? I told you you’d get somewhere.”

You giggled as Akira pressed a few kisses to your neck, murmuring, “Congratulations, love. I’m proud of you. It’ll be such a pleasure to work with you~.”

Ren Amamiya

“You’re fired.”

The words still managed to worm their way into your thoughts whenever you were alone, thinking back to the incident that caused you to lose your job.

You hadn’t been late. You stuck to the strict protocol of the business, following the rules and orders of your superiors to the letter. You addressed any concerns the guests brought to your attention. You got along with your co-workers, some of whom were your friends outside of work.

No, in fact, the incident in question occurred during an extravagant dinner that was hosted by the hotel you previously worked in. Apparently, some big-wig up-and-coming politician was aiming for the biggest office in the country: the Prime Minister’s office.

A rug. The up-turned end of a rug had resulted in you tripping as you headed toward the table where several man sat, talking and laughing. Unfortunately, it resulted in the contents of the serving tray to be sent flying, splattering across the men’s faces, to stain their expensive tailor-made suits. The lavish tablecloth quickly became stained as wine spilled over the edges, soaking the bland surface.

Clearly furious, the man whirled around you, face set into a scowl as he spat angrily, “You clumsy simpleton! I’ll have your job for this!”

You could still remember when your manager called you into his office, eyes full of shame as he spoke the words you hadn’t wanted to hear.

“You’re fired.”

Since you were let go, it had been extremely difficult to get an interview, and even if you did, the moment your would-be employer learned how you managed to lose your job… Despite his or her promises to stay in touch, you’d get a call saying someone more reliable had been selected instead of you.

Day in and day out, that was your routine for a whole month. Passing out résumés, roping in an interview here and there, and being constantly denied the position you were aiming for.You were beginning to feel downtrodden, walked on and walked over, ignored despite your best efforts.

Ren couldn’t bear to see you returning home in such low spirits; he was the one who brought home suggestions of where you should start snagging interviews, after all.

Fortunately, lady luck soon smiled down upon you. It just so happened that as he walked into work one day that he spotted his manager, Eira, setting up a "now hiring” sign outside the Huggamug Café. The noiret’s glasses glinted as, suddenly, he was hit with a bright idea. If you were seeking work, surely his boss would at least give you a chance when no one else would.

So it was much to your surprise that after returning home from another failed interview, Ren greeted you with a small smile and dinner waiting for you at the table. “My boss is looking for new hirelings. Interested, darling?”

You couldn’t help but to allow an excited, hopeful gleam to sparkle in your eyes. You nodded eagerly in response to your boyfriend’s suggestion. However, soon, the feeling of uncertainty wrapped itself around you.

“You really think she’ll give me a chance, Ren?”

“Focus on snagging the interview first, then worry about what comes after.”

Invigorated by your boyfriend’s confidence in you, you nodded as you both sat down to enjoy a quiet, relaxing dinner, enjoying a quaint, stress-free evening together afterwards.

To say that you were a bundle of quivering nerves as, the next morning, you stood in front of a certain café was an understatement. Despite its warm, welcoming exterior and interior, the Huggamug Cafémay as well be the Diet Building to you.

It didn’t help that you soon directly in front of the manager of the coffee shop: Eira Rundström. Swallowing a gulp that was the size of a baseball, you nervously greeted yourself, résuméin hand, sweating bullets as the icy gaze of the young manager fell upon you.

“Welcome to the Huggamug Café. How may I help you today?”

“I’m… I’m here about the sign out front. You’re interviewing candidates?”

Ren couldn’t help but smile as Eira took your résumé, adding, “I can’t promise you anything, but I’ll look over yourrésuméduring break, and if all looks good, I’ll schedule an interview.”

You nodded, watching as the dark-haired manager walked away. However, the moment she was out of your sight, you sighed as your shoulders slumped. Then, you felt a hand resting on your shoulder, and you glanced up to see Ren’s smile, his onyx irises staring at you as he talked.

“Don’t worry too much. I know the Boss has a good feeling about you.”

ArsèneLupin

“Hey, Arsène… Is that café you work at hiring?”

“Ah, the Boss was saying that she was looking for help. Why do you ask?”

“J-Just wondering… That’s all.”

Arsènewasn’t a fool; he could see right through your little white lie. Sometimes, you were easier to read than an open book.

“…You want to work with me?”

The surprise in Arsène’s voice was obvious. His obsidian gaze stared into your eyes, but the surprise was just as palpable in his irises as it was in his voice. There was also a faint trace of amusement, too.

“Yeah. I mean, you always come home after your shift pleased, and I have yet to hear anything bad about this café. Sounds like it’s a good place to work.”

Smirking,Arsènewas quick to reply. “Perhaps it’s because there are so many wonderful customers who visit. My employer is quite easy on the eyes as well.”

You took a moment to roll your eyes heavenward, breathing a sarcastic “haha” immediately afterwards.

“Ohh,” he drawled, looking positively amused. “Is someone jealous?”

“Of course not!” you said, denying his teasing accusation with a huff.

Seeing Arsène’s tooth-filled smirk irritated you, causing you to add, “Why would I be jealous when I’m the only woman you’re with, right? Unless your proposal was just sugarcoated bullshit?”

To prove your point you raised the hand in question, its ring finger wrapped in a golden, diamond-encrusted engagement ring.

“Hmm,” he hummed, pausing only to add, “Touché, my dear rose.”

“Anyway, jokes aside,” you said, pausing as Arsène chuckled. 

“Do you think your boss would hire me? I mean, it’s been a while since I worked anywhere… Three months…”

Slightly disheartened by what you said, you lowered your head, staring at the plate of food that was in front of you. You gripped a fork in your hand, absentmindedly picking at the side dish as your thoughts strayed back to your former workplace.

It had its ups and downs, just as every other place did, but part of you was glad that you weren’t working there anymore. It had been nothing short of a godsend when your manager informed you of being let go.

For the past three months, you’d been receiving unemployment income. You had to get somewhere, find a place to work at, and fast. Soon, the income was bound to dry up, more quickly than you’d realize.

You looked up the moment you felt a hand clasp yours, a thumb gently stroking your slim knuckles. A smile curled Arsène’s lips, but there was a short pause before he spoke.

“I will talk to the manager first thing tomorrow, dear.”

“R-Really? You’d do that?”

“For you, my dear, I’d do anything. I’d even go up against the Devil himself, if it appeased you.”

“L-Let’s not go that far, Arsène.”

Eira Rundström 

“Pink slip, huh?”

You glanced up as a cup of your favourite hot beverage was set down in front of you. Small wisps of steam wafted up from inside the cup’s rounded interior, hinting of its piping hot contents.

To polish off her question, the head barista set a plate of your favourite dessert down in front of you; a fork and a serviette completed her efforts of offering you her quiet condolences.

You breathed a sigh, smiling as you nodded. “Was it that obvious?”

Eira smiled slightly as she nodded, her bangs–dyed black–brushing across her skin along with the nodding motion of her head.

“Maybe. Maybe it’s because I couldn’t help but notice that, to you, the world might as well be ending.”

In response to her words, you voiced a laugh that was half-sarcastic, half-sincere.

“If it does end today, at least I’ll go out eating something you personally made.”

There was a quiet clatter as you picked up the fork, sliding it through the generous slice of dessert that innocently sat on the plate. You popped the piece past your lips.

Eira busied herself with tending to other customers, pausing only to order a certain frizzy-haired, bespectacled barista to get back to work as you ate your dessert. You were savouring your journey through your steaming hot drink when Eira returned.

She looked a bit worried; her furrowed brows, coupled with her pursed lips, told you that she was concerned for you.

“…So what happened?”

You breathed a sigh, setting down the cup of coffee with a quiet clink as its rounded rim touched the saucer.

“It’s… nothing,” you muttered, blinking owlishly as Eira frowned.

“It’s not ‘nothing’ if you got sacked, is it?”

“…I was framed.” Eira said nothing; she merely waited for you to continue talking.

“Someone was taking money from the register. Since I was one of the last ones on duty, the boss assumed it was me. She didn’t have any evidence, but I was fired on the spot when I went into work earlier.”

Again, the blue-eyed manager didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to; she knew you well enough that you wouldn’t risk your job, your hard-earned job, just for some extra pocket money.

“…Hey,” you began, glancing up from the warm depth of your hot drink to stare into ice-blue irises. “Can I work here, Ei? I’ll pull my own weight. I’ll pull twice my own weight.”

Silence permeated the area of the café you and Eira stood and sat in, silence that was broken only by the clinks of forks and spoons, the laid-back chatter and associating laughter of the other customers, but finally…

“…Got your résumé on hand? If not, send it to me via e-mail. I’ll look it over, and schedule an interview. How’s nine o’clock tomorrow morning sound?”

[thehuggamugcafe]

Mun and Muse

OOC: This, my dear followers, is something... out-of-the-ordinary, needless to say.

Caffeine sparked this musing, and I mean a lot of caffeine sparked this musing.

So, um... I guess I kind of self-inserted myself into the café AU, if only for this musing? Um... Please enjoy, I guess? ☕

“Hey, Boss, thanks for that little oneshot to read with my order. It was really spooky!”

“Nothing like a good musing to read while I drink coffee. Thanks, Boss!”

“Keep me posted on future writings, Boss.”

“Amazing work as always! Thanks!”

Such was the typical feedback that Eira received as the customers left the Huggamug Café, whether it was a verbal compliment, or a written one taped or pinned to the small bulletin board that hung on the wall, adjacent to the service counter.

For a few moments, ice blue irises stared at the written words that were scrawled onto little scraps of paper, blinking slowly as she processed the words that all but screamed of admiration for the supposedly mysterious author.

Finally, the dark-haired woman breathed a derisive snort.

“...‘Mysterious’? Yeah, right.”

There were a few things wrong with her customers’ conclusions with the stories that she had supposedly written, to share with her customers and earn their feedback on it.

The first conclusion was that she had written them at all. She hadn’t. She didn’t have a shred of creativity to offer when it came to writing; she didn’t have the patience or the time for it, either. She couldn’t invest hours upon hours of writing anything, let alone thinking of what she was in the mood to write, not when she had a business to run.

The second conclusion was that the “mysterious author” wasn’t wrapped in a veil of mystique, not at all. In fact, not only was she earning her keep at the café in secret, contrary to how the author appeared at first glance...

She was quite shy, in fact.

So it was no surprise to Eira that, after the café closed for the evening, the employees had gone home, and the manager was beginning to doze off, she’d hear the telltale groaning creak as a certain door in the prep area opened. Silence would blanket the first floor of the café before, finally, there’d be a soft click as the door slid shut.

Eira would lie awake in her bed, listening to the soft tap-tap of footsteps as the only other person inside the café crept around on the first floor, stopping suddenly. Most nights, Eira didn’t bother to get up and check, to make sure that she was alright. She’d usually stay awake long enough to hear the footsteps backtracking to that particular room in the prep area, the door opening and sliding shut with a silent click.

The following morning, the manager would be greeted with the sight of a few customers crowded around the small bulletin board, looking quite literally starstruck by the replies written below their comments. Eira didn’t have to see it herself, having seen the author’s writing style firsthand on many accounts; she knew the handwriting was as it always was: legible, but a bit messy.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“Nothing like something sweet to read to balance the bitter coffee, huh?”

“Thanks for your feedback. I’ll try not to keep you waiting for the next part.”

“Thank you for taking the time to read it.”

Nine times out of ten, the customers would leave requests for the mysterious author to fulfill, jotting them down, taping or pinning them below the “Customers’ Orders” section.

When Eira went to check the bulletin board in the morning, the requests would be missing, as though they hadn’t been there to start with.

Sometimes, there would be a small stack of papers lying innocently at a particular table, waiting for the customer to read it. The story was never a particularly lengthy read; no more than six pages, and rarely longer than eight. Sometimes, the story would be accompanied by a plate of dessert, and a cup of coffee, tea, or hot cocoa, depending on the customer’s preference.

More often than not, however, there would only be a slip of paper with the author’s words written on it, scrawled with the all too familiar legible, but messy handwriting.

“I’m working on your request.”

“I’ll keep you posted.”

“Expect an update soon.”

“Please be patient.”

However...

Whenever Eira was in the prep area, putting together a customer’s order, she’d pause and listen, straining her ears to hear something, anything.

Something other than the fan whirling as she all but lorded over the stove.

Anything other than the pot of bubbling stew or soup.

Something, anything at all would have been fine with the young manager.

Finally, she heard it, exactly what she wanted to hear.

A cough that was stifled by a forearm.

The soft squeak of a chair as the person occupying it shifted where she sat.

The telltale clicks and clacks as the keys of a laptop were hit. The pace of the author’s typing was hardly ever the same. Sometimes, the keystrokes would be slow, methodical, as though the person’s thoughts were carefully trickling out from her mind, pouring out from her fingertips, and splashing onto the word document that was open in front of her.

Sometimes, the keys would be mashed so quickly that it was a wonder the laptop didn’t spontaneously combust, even miraculous, and yet...

Oftentimes, whenever Eira had a few minutes to herself during her break, she’d enter the prep area. She’d stop in front of a certain door, pausing to listen before reaching for the doorknob and slowly, carefully turning it before prying it open, peeking in through a small crack in the door.

The thin line of luminescence shone into the room, casting its gentle light over random surfaces and knick-knacks. A work desk with an old TV set, an equally old game system complimented with a retro game controller set up in front of the television, and directly in front of the television screen and video game system was a cushioned wooden chair. Next to the old-school game system were a few other, more modern game systems plugged into the power cord, all plugged into a socket in the wall, ready to be played at a moment’s notice. Scattered across the work desk were various cases, video games that stuck to horror-survival, RPG-style, and thriller/psychological genres.

Two small bookshelves were pushed up against the wall on the left-hand side of where the old-school game station was set up, stuffed with various how-to books, novels and manga of various types, all sorted in alphabetical order.

A few sketchbooks and some art supplies were set in a small space in the bookshelves, ready to be used whenever the owner felt the itch to sketch.

A mini fridge was plugged into the wall next to the bookshelves, gently humming away. Eira knew it was stuffed with various cavity-causing snacks, drinks, and some containers of a few healthy things, mostly ginger-infused rice pudding and fruit-flavoured yogurt.

In all honesty, at first glance, it spoke of—and technically it was—a leisure room. A place for someone to get away from all the hub-bub of the café, if only for a short while.

However, what mattered most in the room was where the glow of a computer screen could be seen, a laptop to be more precise, glaring its bland illumination over a face framed with dark hair. An upbeat song softly blared out from the headset that rested on the woman’s shoulders, clothed by the gray-and-black striped hoodie she wore. The dark colours looked a bit... off, clashing with the bright green apron that was tied around her waist.

The young woman’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, frozen in place. Her lips pursed to form a frown, brows pinching the slant of her eyes, coldly glaring at the blank document in front of her.

Well, it was mostly blank, anyway. Eira could just barely make out a title, and a few short paragraphs of text underneath the title, but other than that...

It was clear that her secret helper appeared to be in what was known as a “writer’s rut,” or so she’d heard it was called.

A knock at the door caused the woman to tear her eyes away from the screen, blinking owlishly at the manager as the glare slowly left her pale visage.

Silence, and then...

A soft “yeah, Ei?” came from the woman, and were she anyone else, Eira would have snapped at her to speak more clearly, but she didn’t.

Bly always put up a brave front, but she was more timid than she let herself on to be. She hated being snapped at or shouted at, even if it was Eira doing it.

“...Break’s over, Bly. Back to learning the ropes.”

“I’m comin’, Ei.”

That was Bly’s reply as she slid the top of the laptop down, pausing only to remove the headset and setting it aside. The chair she sat in squeaked as Bly used her sneaker-covered feet to move the chair; there was a second squeak as she got up, as the chair was relieved of her weight. The dark-haired woman stuffed her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, walking over to where Eira stood, pausing to look at her.

Bly’s hazel irises met Eira’s icy gaze, but if the manager wanted to lean in closer, she would have caught a faint, very faint hint of a ring of blue circling the shorter woman’s gaze.

There were light bags under her eyes, making her hazel eyes look darker than they normally would have been. The signs of light insomnia gave her gaze a look of eternal sleepiness; the yawn that she covered with a hand further drove the inclination home that, yes, she always appeared as though she just climbed out of bed.

After a few moments of eye contact, Bly cleared her throat, raising a hand to rub the back of her neck.

Smiling sheepishly, Bly asked, “...So... What horrendous torture will you put me through this time, Ei? Stew? Bread rolls? Bread?”

Eira rolled her eyes heavenward, breathing a sarcastic “haha” as she voiced a soft “tsk.” She ignored the soft, but clear joking undertone Bly’s soft, mousy voice had.

“Dessert.”

Bly’s eyes shone with interest as she reiterated, “Dessert?” She sounded just as excited as she looked.

“Shortcake.”

“Can I have some of the leftovers this time? Ren doesn’t look like someone who appreciates sweet things, but he always hogs them to himself. What a sweet-hogging whore.”

Smiling slightly, Eira replied, “...I’ll put some aside for you.”

“Now you’re talking my language; let’s get baking, Boss!”

[thehuggamugcafe]

The Empress for all of them if you don’t mind- 🐶

OOC: Hello and good day, corgi! I hope you’re well, and that your day is amazing so far!

So, the Empress for all of my muses, hm?

Haha, specific and to-the-point, aren’t you? As expected of you.

Very well, dear! One Empress order for all of my muses coming right up! Please enjoy! ☕

Akira Kurusu

Names for a daughter:

Annie.

Nikki.

Keiko.

Chihiro.

Jocelyn.

Shannon.

Names for a son:

Leon.

Adam.

Michael.

Hibiki.

Jun.

Louis.

Ren Amamiya

Names for a daughter:

Mélina.

Summer.

Alyssa.

Rio

Kiyoko.

Hana.

Names for a son:

Scott.

Curtis.

Ryuu.

Takashi.

Kåre.

Sébastien.

Arsène Lupin

Names for a daughter:

Chloé.

Autumn.

Angelina.

Sophia.

Setsuko.

Ayame.

Names for a son:

Dimitri.

Théodore.

Curtis.

Kyou.

Kaito.

Nathan.

Eira Rundström

Names for a daughter:

Judith.

Helena.

Heidi.

Kumiko.

Rina.

Fiona.

Names for a son:

Freyr.

Hrafn.

Jacob.

Noé. 

Benjamin.

Christopher.

[thehuggamugcafe]

?? - Akira, drunk texts are funny texts

OOC: Hello and good day, Summer! I hope that you’re well, and that your day is progressing smoothly so far!

Specific and to-the-point. I adore asks like this. Very well! A drunk Akira coming right up! Cheers, Summer! ☕

Be-be-beep.

A groan slipped its way past your lips, your eyes cracking open to point a groggy glower on your phone as it lit up, vibrating as your text tune began to play.

An annoyed huff left you as you reached for your phone, pointing a tired stare on the time that blinked back at you on the small, glowing screen. 2:45 A.M.

It was with an exaggerated eye-roll that you brought up your instant messaging chat service, pausing to stare at the sender of the message.

You have 1 new message from Akira Kurusu.

You clicked on the blinking inbox, silently reading the message.

“Baaaaabe~.”

Be-be-beep.

“Where r u rite now~? Sleeping?”

Is he drunk? you thought, slightly more wide awake now. Only slightly, though. You were still annoyed at your live-in boyfriend for agreeing to go out on the town with Arsène, of all demons, and texting you at such an ungodly hour in the morning…

That in itself couldn’t have been anything good, and you made a mental note to scold Akira later on. After you helped him with however mild of a hangover he had right now, of course.

You trusted Arsène enough to keep an eye on Akira, to keep him out of trouble, and to avoid ending up doing anything reckless. 

The telltale be-be-beep broke you from your quiet musings, flicking a stare back on the phone’s screen.

“I’m so horny.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot, and you swallowed a thick gulp. 

“Baaaaaby~ You there? Don’t ignore me!”

Finally, you willed your fingers to move, punching in a quick, to-the-point message, sending it no sooner had you typed it.

“Akira, are you drunk?”

“There yooou are, my angel~!”

Yes. He’s definitely drunk as a skunk. you thought, pursing your lips at the idea of having to deal with Akira’s intoxicated shenanigans.

You also made a mental note to add Arsène to your scolding list.

“How much did you drink?”

“Um… A lot?”

You breathed a sigh and, rolling your eyes again, you sent another message. You watched as it popped up beneath Akira’s message, clicking your tongue to silently convey your vexed state.

“Where’s Arsène?”

“Dunno. Lost him in the crowd outside.”

There was a pause before Akira sent another message.

“Went off with two women.”

“What?! I asked him to keep an eye on you, not screw around!”

“Aww, why? I can’t look after myself!”

“You mean you can look after yourself?”

“That’s what I said, Treasure.”

“Where are you? Stay there. I’ll come pick you up.”

There was no response.

Frowning, you punched in a message.

“Akira? …Akira! Are you there? What happened? Say something!”

At last, there was a notification of ‘Akira Kurusu is typing’, and you breathed a sigh of relief. However, the contents of the message caused a chill to go up and down your spine.

“Hey. This is Eira. Your idiot boyfriend is here, out cold on the floor. I’m dropping his inebriated ass off at your place, but I’ll need help carrying him inside.”

There was a pause before Akira’s boss sent you another message, followed quickly by another.

“I swear to Christ, I will smack Arsène in a way he won’t appreciate for this.”

“Anyway, get the necessities ready. Ren’s helping me carrying him to the car, so we’ll be there shortly. See you in a bit.”

[thehuggamugcafe]

♣ [Everyone! Akira, Ren, Eira and Arsene!]

OOC: Hello and good day, Krisachan! This Barista is always delighted to see an ask from you! I hope everything’s A-OK, dear!

Precise as always, aren’t you? As expected of you, dear! Very well! One order of muse headcanons coming right up! Enjoy your order, and please come again! ☕

Akira Kurusu

He’s a prankster through and through. Nothing malicious per se, but he definitely knows when to call it quits.

Sure, the café does have the odd slow start to the morning here and there, so… Eira, peace be upon your soul, dear. For you will know no peace around Akira.

Akira would feel obligated to liven things up, as he feels that it’s no fun to be in an environment that’s as serious and gloomy as a graveyard.

So what does Akira do to start things off in the morning?

Set Eira’s alarm clock to wake her up at five o’clock instead of six o’clock.

Maybe put salt instead of sugar into her morning cup of coffee. He’ll make her another cup of coffee, with sugar, as a gesture of apology, though!

Eira isn’t the only one he singles out. Of course Akira targets Ren and yes, even Arsène isn’t spared from Akira’s antics. For example…

When Ren asks him for a glass of water, he gets a glass of soda instead.

When Arsène requests Akira’s aid for stocking the inventory, shenanigans can expected to break out. Shenanigans that involves things like…

Flour, sugar, milk, and other baking necessities are stored where the canned provisions usually would be. Sauces, dry pasta, seasonings, and such are placed where the baking necessities are put. Stuff like that.

It oftentimes takes the pair a few hours to store everything properly, much to Arsène’s annoyance and Akira’s amusement.

Ren Amamiya

This one’s a “killjoy,” as Akira often calls him.

Ren can be found sitting at a corner table, or loitering behind the service counter while on break. If his nose isn’t buried in a book, you can bet he’s scrolling through–and replying to–messages in his inbox. Messages that belong to, say, the rare customer who succeeds in getting this incubus’s contact information.

The constant dings and text tunes playing is enough to give Eira a headache, but she soldiers on through.

She won’t admit it, but she appreciates seeing Ren smiling for once.

“Oh, what’s this? Is Ren-Ren enjoying the online company of someone lucky to grace his presence?”

“Didn’t your break end 5 minutes ago?”

Ren will ignore Akira’s disgruntled mutter of, “Killjoy” as he walks away, too focused on replying to the customer he’s chatting with.

Lastly, on hot days, Ren will appreciate a tall glass of iced tea with a lot of ice, a piece of some dessert, and a good book to read. On cold days, he’ll settle for a cup of piping hot coffee, a crackling fireplace, and the company of his co-workers. Bonus points if the power’s out, and the three incubi have to crash at Eira’s place for a few evenings due to a blizzard.

Arsène Lupin

This suave son-of-a-gun is a shameless flirt, let me tell you!

Seriously, y’all think Akira’s a shameless flirt? Arsène is Akira 2.0, dears!

Whether he’s dealing with a dopey-eyed customer, stumbling in through the café door, looking as though they just climbed out of bed, or if the customer is having a bad day, he’ll be nothing short of the picture perfect example of a gentleman.

A gentleman with a smooth tongue, a charming smile, and sugarcoated words just waiting to be unleashed.

“Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven, my dear?”

“I believe you to be a thief, for you have stolen this gentleman’s attention far too well.”

“Why do you look so glum, sir/mademoiselle? You are the most eye-catching customer here.”

“My, such a look of displeasure doesn’t suit someone like you. May I ask what’s troubling you today?”

“Now, now… Please, do not pout or sulk. As I said, such an expression does not suit you. If you are troubled, confide in me. Consoling a customer is a barista’s duty, no?”

“While it displeases me to see you in such low spirits… I would like to know the source of your troubles. Perhaps we could talk about it during my break? I leave it to your discretion.”

Eira Rundström

Hoo boy. I haven’t mused for the manager in quite a while, outside of on-going RPs. I hope she’s not too rusty!

Suffice it to say that she is a bit of a neat freak, having been described as such by those who are acquainted with her. This also applies to the customers who have seen Eira cleaning while on break, including her lunch break.

“Didn’t Boss scrub the counter three minutes ago?”

“She’s going over it again…”

“She’s gonna strain herself at this rate…”

“Do you think we should ask her to take an actual break?”

“No. M-Maybe we should ask Akira, Ren, or Arsène to ask her instead…”

“Yeah. Good point. Boss can be scary when she wants to be, you know?”

Don’t get me started on the cold glare Eira will give Akira, Ren, or Arsène, should the men suggest she take it easy and take an actual break for a change.

“I appreciate the thought, but… Shouldn’t you three be working?”

She will hiss frozen ice, but her smile will be sickeningly sweet.

[thehuggamugcafe]

Hmmm Strength for Arsene and the High Priestess for Eira? If I did not spell her name right I am so sorry >

OOC: Hello again, dear Kai! I hope you’re well!

Haha, straight to the point, huh? As expected of you, and you spelt Eira’s name right, no worries! No need to apologize!

So Strength for Arsène and the High Priestess for the manager? Roger that! Please enjoy your order and please come again! ☕

XI – Strength

There was a time when Arsène had to be strong in the face of danger.

Such a time came one night during closing hours of the Huggamug Café. Akira and Ren had already left for the evening, and the customers as well. Eira was sweeping the floor, cleaning the tables, and service counter.

Arsène was behind the service counter, making certain that everything was in order, flicking a glance at the café’s door, watching as a young man pounded on the door.

The noiret demon watched as Eira spared the slightly older man an irked glance, tossing the damp washcloth to the table. The sharp click clicks of her suede heels signalled her approach. The deadbolt was undone with a soft click, and the door was wrenched open–only for a gasp to be pulled from Eira’s scowling lips, as a hand wrapped around her wrist and a knife was put to her throat.

“Money! Now!”

The stench of booze and cigarette smoke was prevalent, and it took all of the manager’s willpower not to gag at the stench that made her eyes water.

“Arsène! Call the-!”

Eira’s words were brought to an abrupt halt, feeling the blade of the knife digging a bit deeper into her throat. Not enough to hurt her, yet, but enough for the cool steel’s edge to gently bite into her skin.

“Open the cash register! Or I’ll cut this bitch’s throat, and you can watch!”

For a few moments Arsène stared, appalled at what he was seeing. This human had the audacity to tread where it didn’t concern him? This frail mortal had the gall to threaten his employer?

“Arsène, just do what he says.”

Unperturbed at his employer’s shockingly calm order, the noiret took a few steps forward, thinking as he walked. He stopped only when the armed man told him to.

Smiling, Arsène calmly asked, “Are you a father?”

“Huh?”

“You have a wedding band on your ring finger. Do you have a child?”

“N-Not yet. My wife’s expecting.”

“Surely you’d like to see your child grow up, no? How will you be able to do that from behind bars?”

Arsène took a moment to quietly rejoice, silently picking up on the cues of the man’s hesitation. Beads of sweat trailed down his visage, clearly nervous as he swallowed a thick gulp.

However, the demon felt that he needed a bit more… convincing to leave the café.

“You don’t want to hurt her. You just want a little pocket money, but no blood on your hands, correct? I want you to listen to me very carefully. Put the knife away, turn around, and walk away. The manager and I will forget that this happened, and you’ll have a second chance not to repeat your mistakes, sir.”

Arsène couldn’t help himself from feeling amused, his obsidian irises dancing with quiet laughter, watching as the man followed the calm request to the letter. The knife retracted from Eira’s throat, pocketed in an inside pocket of the man’s coat. The heels of his boots clicked as he turned, walking away from Eira, who watched him warily as he disappeared from her sight.

Once Eira was sure the man was nowhere in sight, it didn’t take her long to slam the cafédoor shut, locking it, and pulling the blind down. Her heart raced in her chest, and her hands shook, feeling clammy yet dripping with sweat. The edges of her eyes pricked with warm moisture, but she refused to let the tears fall.

“Arsène?”

“Yes, Ms. Rundström?

“I don’t know whether to hit you or kiss you.”

II – The High Priestess

I had to sit and think about this for a few moments, so this may be terribly short, so I apologize for that, Kai.

Honestly, there’s one thing that Eira feels especially accomplished about in her life. She feels that it’s the smartest thing she could have ever done, and while it was done in the heat of the moment, she doesn’t regret it at all.

The day when she put her foot down, and declared her intent to move out on her 18th birthday, absolving herself of the strict restrictions her mother had placed on her all her life.

[thehuggamugcafe]

In honor of Friday, the start of our weekend, how about ☕ with Arsène?

OOC: Hello and good day, Rae! I’m always pleased to see an ask/a message from you pop up in my inbox!

So, a relaxed Arsène tickles your fancy, huh? Nice choice!

What a way to start off the upcoming spicy weekend! I like it!

Here’s to you, Rae! Cheers! ☕

Ah, a relaxed Arsène, huh? Good times are surely ahead!

So, you’re wondering how this muse of mine is when he’s relaxed, eh?

Well, wonder no more! Here we go!

Arsène was a hard worker, there was no denying that. However, it still surprised the manager how quickly Arsène completed, well, anything that Eira asked of him.

The dishes were washed, dried, and put away within a few minutes, minutes that felt like seconds to the manager’s perspective.

Any surface of the small caféwas wiped down, swept, mopped within such a short amount of time that, again, felt like seconds had passed.

Eira would be lying if she said that she wasn’t slightly jealous how Arsène could make the cafésparkle. She was only slightly very jealous of how thorough he could be; it made her keen eyes look weak as she searched, glared for any specks of dirt or dust.

“It’s clean. Too clean.”

Cue an animated tick mark on the manager’s forehead.

“Thank you, Ms. Rundström.”

Thus, the animated tick mark increased in size.

The playful hint of a smirk in his voice always, always succeeded in fanning the irate flames inside her. The head barista breathed a sigh.

“Your shift’s over. Go home, Lupin.”

Chuckling, Arsènebowed before turning on his heels, preparing to head home.

However… Not before tossing one last teasing remark to his employer.

“Are you certain you don’t wish to join me tonight?”

“Quite certain, thank you.”

No, there wasn’t a blush colouring her cheeks. What are you talking about?

“As you say, my dear. I will see you tomorrow, then. Good night.”

A breathy laugh left the smiling man as he left the café, a smile going unseen as the telltale ding of the small golden bell, signaling that he’d left.

Sighing, Eira patted her blushing cheeks, pursing her lips as she frowned. “Tsk. What an irksome man he is.”

[thehuggamugcafe]

And The World Went Away

OOC: Well, it’s official. The Resident Evil 2 Remake demo scared the holy hell out of this Barista. Good lord, I couldn’t help but to feel inspired after watching some gameplay footage. Also, Overkill’s The Walking Dead characters’ story trailers helped spawn this little musing.

This... What is this? Well, I wouldn’t call it a series. Merely... Musings for whenever I’m in the mood to write them, which won’t be often, I think. If you’d like, I can include my other muses in their own scenarios for these “musings”, for lack of a better word.

If anyone’s interested in this sort of thing, please let me know; I’d really appreciate the feedback. Likes and reblogs are A-OK, but comments on this (yes, even constructive criticism!) are fine, too.

Let us begin the horror show shall we, my dears? Please enjoy. ☕

A cranium impacted the wall of an alleyway, besmirching the filthy brick exterior with a splatter of blood. A huff of a breath left the mouth of a certain barista—no, former barista—as a moist noise came from the skull of what had once been a man.

Milky brown eyes stared up into the sweaty, flushed face of a 20-year-old woman as a knife was removed from where it was inserted: between the monstrosity’s eyes.

“You bastard! Goddammit,” the ex-barista hissed, clicking her tongue as she spared a quick glance at herself.

Ice blue irises glared at her glove-covered hands, checking and double-checking for any glaringly obvious signs of a scratch, no matter how small.

She relaxed only when she was positive that she hadn’t been scratched.

Eira had seen what happened to those who’d been unfortunate enough to be bitten or scratched, after all.

It had only been a few months since the initial outbreak had occurred, but...

She remembered.

She remembered what had happened on that day in her small, homey café.

It was cliché, so terribly cliché, but it had started off the same way as it had in all those horrid, cheesy zombie movies, TV shows, books, and video games.

Reports of odd assaults on an unsuspecting person, who’s only crime was being at the wrong place, wrong time, became a daily occurrence.

Headlines titled “Attacks In Broad Daylight” were soon plastered over the front page of every newspaper, every news magazine across the country.

Health and government officials assured the public that there was nothing to worry about, that order would be restored within a few short weeks. Meanwhile, the general public was advised to stay away from anyone who may be “sick,” and to remain as sanitary as possible. She recalled the one warning, the only warning the public had received before all hell broke loose on the streets of Tokyo...

“We interrupt this scheduled program for a message from the Japanese Ministry of Health. A contagious disease is rumoured to have begun spreading within Shibuya. Those who’ve been exposed to this illness display the following symptoms: sweating, nausea, fever, disorientation, seizures, severe migraines, and eventual death. We advise all residents to remain indoors until further notice. If you believe that you or a loved one is infected with this disease, please call local authorities immediately. Do not leave your residence. This message will repeat every five minutes.”

The day when a customer had stumbled in through the door of the Huggamug Café, left open to allow a nonexistent breeze to whisper through the interior, despite the air conditioner keeping the customers, the employees, and the young owner and manager cool.

Eira recalled the customer’s twitching body, voicing an unusual-sounding groan as saliva and blood dripped on to the floor of the café. It was something that irked Eira greatly, having just swept and mopped the floor 30 minutes before the customer arrived.

“Hey.”

She remembered snapping that lone word as she walked forward, ready to give the customer a piece of her mind. However...

The closer she got, the more she realized how much he reeked. He stunk of sweat, as if he hadn’t showered in weeks.

She noticed how dirty his clothes were, how matted his hair was.

She noticed the blood and bits of flesh stuck between his teeth.

“Sir, are you okay? Maybe you should-”

Eira could still remember the feeling of two dirty, cold hands wrapping around her clothed shoulders.

She could still recall the sickening breath wafting over her face as she hit the floor.

She remembered feeling the disgusting stench of warm copper hitting her face as she screamed for someone, anyone to assist her as the customer snapped his bloody jaws near her face.

She could recall three sets of footsteps quickly approaching her as she raised a foot, delivering a solid kick to the man’s chest, knocking him off of her.

Immediately after Eira had kicked the customer away from her, Akira had followed up with a quick swing underneath the man’s chin with a broom. The man had hit the floor, as expected, but he resorted to crawling on his hands and knees.

“W-What the hell is this?! How is he still moving?!” Eira shouted, pointing her icy irises on the customer.

“Keep him there, Ren!”

Akira’s shout resonated throughout the silent café, earning a nod as Ren kept the snarling, milky-eyed customer pinned to the ground, a foot planted on his neck.

“One warning’s all you get,” Ren said, narrowing his onyx irises as the customer hissed, snarled, pointed his milky eyes up at the noiret.

A disgustingly sharp crack echoed through the café’s interior, a noise that Eira remembered wincing at as she slowly, steadily got to her feet. The customer’s eyes stared at nothing, rolled back into his head, the bones of his spine threatening to poke through the skin of his throat.

Ren’s accuracy was on point. So on point, in fact, that with one twist of his foot, the customer’s neck had snapped like a twig.

“Are you alright, Ms. Rundström?” Arsène had asked, his gaze fixed on his young employer.

“I’m fine, Lupin, thank you.”

Rounding back on Ren, Eira had continued her little rant.

“...Are you trying to kill my business, Amamiya?”

Despite her annoyed tone, she was still noticeably shaken up by what had just happened. Had it not been for her employees’ timely rescue...

“He was crazed, Boss. He tried to bite you.”

“Still, that’s no excuse to murder someone, and inside the café!”

Eira couldn’t honestly remember what happened after that. One moment she and Amamiya had been arguing back and forth, and then...

Chaos. Complete and utter chaos.

She recalled bits and pieces here and there, whenever she was alone and could think calmly, clearly. All she really remembered was that she had lost track of her employees in the ensuing madness, that she had lost contact with her relatives.

How long had it been since she’d last seen Akira? Seen Arsène? Seen Ren?

Hell, how long had it been since she’d seen anyone who wasn’t a “Shuffler”, as she called them. The monstrosities who now roamed the streets, seeking out the flesh of the living? It felt like it had been years...

In the here and now, the ex-barista breathed a sigh as she pointed her blue irises up at the sky. She was quietly grateful for the fact that it was still daylight, mid-morning to be exact.

“They” appeared to be less active during the daytime, and if she couldn’t see them, she could oftentimes hear them approaching.

The slow shuffle of their footsteps still turned her skin to gooseflesh...

She bit back a shudder, digging a hand into the left-hand pocket of her black parka. A photo was removed, one that she had insisted on carrying.

It held a lot of sentimental value to her, after all.

In the picture, Akira and Arsène smiled; a small smile curled Ren’s lips, as well as her own. The photo had been taken outside the café just as the summer season began, the picturesque example of tranquility. Of old times. Of a time that seemed so far flung in the past.

Eira breathed a sigh as she folded the picture, stuffing it back into the pocket it had been taken out of.

“Akira, Arsène, Ren... You three better be okay... Idiots.”

The early winter wind whispered through the alley, bringing an all too recognizable stench of blood and decay along with it, shoving the horrendous stench up Eira’s nostrils.

The foreigner sneered, the heels of her leather boots clicking as she left the alleyway. She wasn’t certain what building she’d loot from next. A grocery store, a hardware store, or perhaps a pawn shop?

Wherever she went next, she could only hope... She could only pray...

That she recognized a face, perhaps three, when she arrived.

[thehuggamugcafe]

Partner Headcanons

💟 (Incubus!Akira)

A beautiful smile. Let me explain: humans smile, everyone knows that. Some hide their true emotions, i.e., sadness, anger, jealousy and such, behind a smile. Incubus!Akira is no stranger to having women (and yes, even men) smile at him, but if he were to show interest in someone besides a quick romp in the sheets or to simply exchange, and receive, flirtatious words and gestures with, he or she would have to butter him up with something more than sugarcoated words. Something more than simple strokes to his face and/or knuckles. Something more than a quick, satisfying rendezvous at his apartment, or back to their place for some time to “get to know each other better.” Smile at him! Give him your second-best smile or, better yet, your best smile and you’ve intrigued him, at the very least.

Trust. Trust isn’t an easy thing for an incubus to come by. For Akira to outright admit to a potential partner, whether they end up as his boyfriend/girlfriend or, perhaps, his mate for life, about being what he is, he must trust them, and they must trust him. Fully. Completely. Trust isn’t something a demon-human hybrid comes by easily, nor does incubus!Akira hand it out too readily. He may trust his partner enough to tell them the truth of what he is, but he may not be so sure about how they will take the news.

Being themselves. This trait attracts Akira’s attention more than anything else about his partner, both their positive traits and their negative traits; he’d love everything about you if you were his, and he was yours. But, one thing he will not accept from a potential partner is him or her putting themselves out in the public, passing themselves off as someone they’re not to earn approval. You want to act a certain way, dress a certain way, and talk a certain way just to be accepted? Incubus!Akira would have no problem with this, initially, but if or when it crosses into potentially dangerous territory, i.e., abusing drugs, alcoholism, and other things, that would certainly earn you his concern and ire. Worse comes to worse, should his partner have gone too far down the rabbit hole, it would lead to a break-up. He wouldn’t abandon his ex-boyfriend or ex-girlfriend, should it result in the pair splitting up; he would do whatever he could to help them, to get them back on the straight and narrow. However, he wouldn’t be able to see them as a romantic partner anymore.

💟 (Eira Rundström)

Kindness. A favour for a favour, small acts of kindness, or warm gestures out of the blue—Eira secretly adores them all. Her partner offers her a simple culinary trade? No problem. She or he wants her to taste a new recipe they came up with? She can do that. The only catch is they’ll have to taste test a new flavour of coffee she’s thinking of adding to the café’s menu, and give her their honest opinion. If her partner treats her to breakfast before the café opens, and/or a hug and kiss before a certain co-worker arrives to tease her about it, they’ll earn a soft smile, warm icy eyes twinkling with appreciation, and maybe a hint of a blush, if her partner is fortunate. Should her partner be incredibly fortunate, the barista will whisper a soft “thank you,” and she will not stand for her partner washing the dishes.

A sense of humour. Teasing pokes. Practical jokes. Sarcastic jabs. Witty exchanges. Snarky remarks. Again, Eira is fond of them all. Her partner having the sense of humour necessary to put up with her sass, and her roller coaster mood set, is just one of the things about their personality that catches her attention at first; anything else that follows is simply the “icing on the cake” as it were, both the good and the bad. Oh, but don’t let her appearance fool you; Eira is quite a crafty mischief-maker herself. She can and will dish out whatever she was served, returning it two-fold.

Patience. This trait is an absolute must for Eira when it comes to a potential partner. There are days when Eira procrastinates, even when she knows full well that she shouldn’t procrastinate; being the manager and owner of a small, homey-looking café isn’t easy, after all! There are days when the Huggamug Café is opened later than usual, or days when Eira is simply “not feeling it,” not feeling up to the task of being at the beck and call of her customers. Don’t misunderstand her procrastination for a lack of appreciation. She loves her little café; she loves her customers as well. But, a business owner feels pressured, and a pair of ears willing to let Eira vent out her frustration, her worries, her fears and such is the key to winning her affections, slowly but surely. For Eira, there is nothing more sweet than a partner willing to let her have a little bitching session once-in-a-blue-moon. She will do everything within her power to return the kind-hearted patience of her partner, no matter what, come Hell or high water.