#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:

[honeyand-roses]

Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Cecelia felt some of the weight lift off her shoulders ever so slightly.

So he did speak.

That thought brought more questions to the raven haired defense attorneys mind however. Why now, of all times, to speak? Was it becuase she was doing all she could to make sure he gets out of this? But if that was the case, why didn’t he talk to Goro, who was far more precise that she could ever be, him having deductive skills that she only longed for?

Clearing her head of useless questions that would lead her in circles, Cecelia’s got tapped on the cement floor, blue eyes staring into onyx with an undeterred determination.

“Before we start, I would like to say that I will do everything in my power to make sure that you get out of this as painlessly as possible. I believe that you’re innocent, and will do my best to show other people that. Do you understand?”

What Cecelia didn’t say is that she promised a certain blue eyed woman that goes by the name Eira Rundström that she would make sure Akira Kurusu gets out of this as a free man.

“Ms. Akamatsu, I trust it that you will prove that Akira is innocent?”

The woman’s sharp tone was met by a nod of the attorneys head, her light blue eyes meeting the café owners.

“That is correct Ms. Rundström. I believe that Mr. Kurusu is innocent and will do everything I can to make that the case.”

Cecelia could swear she saw the owners shoulders lose a little bit of of the tension that they were holding, her then nodding and offering a grim smile.

“Thank you. I wish you luck.”

With that, the attorney watched the woman’s form recede down the hallway, leaving the raven haired female with a new found determination shining in icy eyes.

Clearing her throat, Cecelia opened the yellow folder in front of her, taking out papers that she’s read countless of times. With an emotionless voice, the female began to read, her occasionally glancing up from the paper to watch the man’s reaction with cautious eyes.

“You, Mr. Kurusu, are suspected for the crime of comitting arson on the bar and nightclub Nirvana. While witnesses cannot say if you were the one who committed the act, they noted that you seemed highly suspicious at the time of the crime, you choosing to stay away from crowds and checking if you were being watched multiple times throughout the night.”

Cecelia sighed, placing down the paper and sliding it towards the handcuffed man, her blue eyes soft.

“You can look at it if you want. What’s good is that no one can account for you lighting a fire, or doing anything that would immediatly give away your guilt. In fact, there’s a higher chance of you being considered than innocent than guilty at this point, and the only reason they’re going so far with this is that they have no better suspect.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, the attorneys eyes narrowed ever so slightly, her mouth twisted into the hint of a scowl.

“It’s a shame that you’re even here.”

With this she recalled a conversation she had with the Detective Prince a few days earlier, him coming into her office to check how everything was going.

“He shouldn’t be accused of this Akechi. He has a good criminal record, and there is no recollection from any of the witnesses that he actually did something that would hint at him being the cause of it.”

Cecelia’s eyes met the ruby of the man’s, a grim expression on his face.

“You can’t eliminate every possibility Cecelia. There’s always those hidden questions that you can’t answer until the very end.”

The Detective’s statement made the female roll her eyes, the tone of her voice hinting the slightest bit of annoyance.

“You make it sound like your trying to prove him guilty Akechi. It’s just frustrating that he’s the only one, out of more than a hundred people, that’s being treated like this. And for what?”

The female sighed, her leaning back in her chair. Brushing a curl out of her face, the female glanced down at the paperwork in front of her, her muttered an inaudible curse under her breath.

“You’ll figure it out Cecelia. You always do. What matters now is the suspects testimony, and whether or not we can use that to our advantage.”

Cecelia nodded, her eyes meeting ruby once again.

“Let’s just hope for the best, alright?”

The detective offered a small smile before he left the office, leaving the attorney with piles of paperwork and thoughts running wild.

“I’m not going to lie, Mr. Kurusu, you seem like a trustworthy man. Your criminal record is spotless, and multiple people have vouched for you, stating that you would never do such a thing. I’m sorry that you’re in this predicament to begin with, and I wish we could’ve met under better circumstances.”

Cecelia pasuhed, her brushing a stray curl away from her face and tucking it behind her ear.

“In fact, the only reason your here is becuase they couldn’t find a better person to accuse. I’m going to get you out of this, I promise.”

Leaning forward and offering a smile, the attorneys eyes shone under the florescent lights.

“So I need you to trust me, okay?”

@thehuggamugcafe

Justice

“Akamatsu. The inmate is ready to be questioned.”

The gruff voice of a male dressed in a police officer’s uniform captivated the icy eyes of the prosecutor, her looking up from the glowing screen of the computer. Giving the man a curt nod, the prosecutor spoke the next few lines without much thought, her voice devoid of emotion.

“Let the guards stationed outside know that I will be arriving shortly. Thank you for notifying me.”

With a nod, the police officer left the small office the prosecutor chose to spend most of her time in when she was assigned to be working in the station. Shutting the computer off, the woman gathered the papers that we’re placed on a dark oak desk, placing them into a black briefcase, faux leather shining under the amber flow of ceiling lights.

Clicking the locks into place, a manicured hand grabbed the golden handle of the briefcase. It was an old thing that the woman held close to her heart, a family heirloom that was passed down through her father’s side, a gift from the man who she looked up to more than anything else.

She sometimes wonders if she would even be as successful as she was if it weren’t for him making her into the woman she is today.

Leaving the small office, the female’s heels clicked on the pale tile floor of her workplace- her running her free hand through the raven curls that bounced with ever step she took.

Pressing the button to call an elevator as soon as the female arrived at the nearest one, the female was drawn out of her thoughts at the sound of her surname leaving someone’s lips, her head turning to look at the perpetrator.

“Fancy seeing you here Akamatsu. I take it that you’re going to seeing the inmate?”

The female offered a small smile in response to the question, her watching as the chestnut haired man stopped to stand next to her.

“Your deduction is correct as always Goro. I take it that you’ve already done as much as you’ve can?”

This was the question that made the smile slide off Akechi Goro’s face, the once friendly light shimmering in ruby eyes replaced by a nod.

“Yes. It appears the odds are stacked against us this time. I wish you luck Akamatsu, we’re up against a bigger threat than we ever thought.”

Placing a gloved hand on the woman’s shoulder, the detective left as quickly as he had arrived, leaving the prosecutor with his words echoing in her ears.

Exhaling, the woman stepped into the now open elevator, her pressing one of the glowing buttons and watching the metal doors close.

Arriving at her destination moments later, the woman walked down a dimly lit hallway, cement walls giving the place a chill. Stopping at a metal door, the female spoke to the two security guards placed in front of it, her voice echoing around her.

“Prosecutor Cecelia Akamatsu, and I requested to see the inmate. I had word sent with the police chief that you were to be known of my arrival.”

One of the guards nodded, reaching for a set of keys that hung on his belt, unlocking the metal door for the woman with ease.

“I wish you luck. He hasn’t uttered a word this entire time, and they’ve tried everything except torture.”

The woman nodded, her stepping inside the room with an emotionless expression on her face. Hearing the door shut behind her, the female walled over to a steel table, her placing her briefcase on it.

“I take it you know why you’re here currently Mr. Kurusu.”

The statement as directed at the man in handcuffs placed at the opposite end of the table, her brushing off her skirt before sitting down in the cold metal chair.

“My name’s Cecelia Akamatsu, and I’m here to get you out of this. However, I can’t do that if you choose to remain silent. I need the truth, and only the truth. Do you understand that?”

Opening the briefcase without waiting for a response, the detective placed a yellow folder on the table, her then placing the briefcase on the floor.

With her eyes meeting onyx, the prosecutor folded her hands in front of her, stating facts that she’s read multiple times.

“You’re being tried for arson, and that is a very serious matter. I need your side of the story, and, as I said the earlier, I need the complete the truth. I take it that you’re willing to do that?”

@thehuggamugcafe

[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]

And now, let's ask Eira something risqué... for example, darling, would you ever wear "special" underwear? [see-through, or that leaves nipples exposed...] And, maybe I'm reading too much in this... but would you ever break the no shagging rule with one [or more~] of your employees?~

When I asked Arsène to make sure the heater was on… When I asked Akira and Ren to help Arsène make sure that the customers were as comfortable as possible, this wasn’t what I had in mind!

That was what went through the young manager’s mind, already feeling the sensation of heat crawling from her neck to burn her cheeks. The blush was just barely noticeable, but only if the customer (or worse, her employees) was looking for it.

“Hah? Why are you asking? Did all that sugar go to your head or something?”

But…

She wouldn’t lie and say that she didn’t own a few… eye-catching things.

Outfits that she’d never be caught dead wearing.

She silently thanked the concept of having stuff delivered right to the café’s doorstep, but she specifically forbade her employees from touching any package that had her name on it.

However…

What truly surprised the manager was the last bit of the customer’s question. The blush that dominated her cheeks was clearly noticeable now, and what made it worse was that a certain barista from behind her snickered at the sight.

“C-Certainly not!”

“What’s with the polite denial for, Boss? It’s unbecoming of you,” Akira crooned, mischief dancing in his onyx eyes.

“Go off and die, Kurusu. Dishes. Wash them.”

The sharp click-clicks of suede heels signalled that Eira had briskly walked away from the customer’s table, leaving her questions unanswered.

“…So… A banana creampie again? Perhaps another mug of hot tea, my dear?”

[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]

*pockey challenge where Akira sticks one in his mouth and holds it out with his lips but the other person just grabs the almost full box out of his hands and runs away laughing manically.* MAH BOI JUST GOT THIEFED!!!

OOC: …Anon. Anon, no. Please don’t tell me you just stole from a thief. *sigh* What am I going to do with you, dear customer?

…That’s what I say, but I’m laughing, smiling, and shaking my head. ☕

“…Did you just get one-upped?”

Eira sounds amused, despite the usual irked tone her voice carries.

“Not yet, Boss.”

A sigh leaves the blue-eyed manager, staring in the direction where the customer ran off in.

“…Might want to catch up to them, before word gets around that you got duped, moron.”

“Naturally, Boss.”

Eira shakes her head, watching her employee as his heels click over the sidewalk.

“…Tsk. What an idiot.”

[thehuggamugcafe]

I see your pocky stick challenge, and upgrade it to SO whipping out a foot-long pocky stick out of their pants and waving it around like a sword before tossing mr. steal your boy/girl a second to spar with. "EN GARDE!"

OOC: Hello, dear customer. I hope you’re well, and that your day is amazing so far.

…I must say that your ask is quite… out-of-the-blue, but amusing all the same. I’m going to assume that by Mr. Steal-your-girl/boy, you’re referring to Akira? Hm. One moment. ☕

For a few moments, Eira stares, unsure of how to take in the situation.

Sunday was always one of the more… interesting days of the week, that was for sure. It was the day when she never knew what the customers were going to say, or what they were going to do.

Why they called it “Sinday” she doesn’t know. She isn’t sure she wants to know, either, but…

“Hey.”

Finally, the manager speaks, pursing her lips as her brows gently pinch the slant of her blue-eyed stare.

“That’s dangerous. Stop swinging that around; you might hurt someone, or yourself.”

She really doesn’t need to deal with the hassle of a customer, an employee, or herself being injured.

Normally, Akira isn’t one for spoiling a customer’s fun.

He’s not a stick-in-the-mud, like the Boss or Ren, but…

Even he can see that the customer’s going to wind up either breaking something, hurting themselves or another customer, or customers.

How they managed to acquire a foot-long pocky stick is beyond him.

“…Not to spoil the fun here, but… Boss is right. That’s not a good idea.”

However…

Soon, he smirks, catching the second pocky stick the customer tosses to him.

“Have at you, dear. I won’t hold back.”