#his exact words are so hurtful and yes its not the first time customers have told me Hurtful things but

[shinayashipper]

Got scolded by the boss because I chose to reject orders from customer who told me to Suffer lmao. Maybe this customer put a spell on my boss or something hes bewitched

[sunarinluvr]

|| haikyuu boys finding you asleep on the couch after an argument ||

includes: kuroo tetsurou, miya osamu, & oikawa tooru

a/n- hello! sorry for posting so late, but this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and i was actually in the mood to finish it so i hope yall enjoy! oh and im not really sure about how i feel about it,,, might take it down later we shall see.

warnings: none ( lmk if there’s anything! )

KUROO -

last night you saw a post kuroo’s “work wife” had made on instagram with her kissing him on the cheek, and it didn’t make you feel the best, so you decided to bring it up to him the next morning. and you did, just as he was getting ready for work you talked to him about it.

you were standing in front of him filled with anger arguing about how it made you uncomfortable, “can you please listen?! i dont feel comfortable with your “work wife” kissing you?” you yelled. “Y/N it was on the cheek its not a big deal!” and to be honest you just wanted to cry. 

finally, he walked past you and opened the door. “i don’t have time for this y/n, stop being so insecure! at least she wouldn’t argue over something so small!” and with that, he slammed the door and you stood there stunned. kuroo knew that he shouldn’t have said that, instant regret and guilt filled his gut.

 but he already said it, he can’t do anything about it now. with a frustrated sigh, he went to work. hoping to fix everything when he gets home. you stood there speechless, as you realized you still had work so slowly you made your way to the bathroom. 

after getting ready and grabbing a quick snack you were out the door with a heavy chest. once you get home, tired and feeling worse than before. you trudged to the couch and plopped down letting out a shaky sigh remembering the argument and the words he said repeating in your head. 

you broke down crying, and before you knew it, the exhaustion from today took over and you were sound asleep on the couch. kuroo got home an hour later, he felt guilty and was already practicing how he’d apologize to you as he walked in.“y/n? kitten?” no answer. 

he called out again, and was met with silence, he made his way over to the living room where he found you sleeping on the couch. gently walking towards you he knelt down, and saw your tear-stained face which made his heart sink. “i fucked up” he said to himself.

giving you a gentle kiss on your forehead he softly apologized and carried you to the bedroom. you ended up waking up when you felt his body weight dent the bed. “tetsu?” you said softly squinting at him. relief rushes through his body at the sound of his nickname. looking at you with guilt in his eyes

“im so sorry kitten, i shouldn’t have said that. i didn’t mean to hurt you” he said gently. at that tears started flowing again and he was quick to hug you and wipe your tears with his other hand. “it’s ok, i shouldn’t have been so insecure anyways” 

he shook his head with a frown “no it’s not your fault ok? i didn’t mean anything i said. i love you so so much and i’m so lucky that you’re mine” you look up at him and gave him a small smile “okay” before cuddling closer to him. giving you a soft kiss on the lips he hugged you tighter as you both fell asleep.

OSAMU -

osamu was just having a horrible day, his head was pounding and the customers he had to deal with today were just plain rude. then he had to do most of the work since one of his employees called in sick, and for some reason, everything just annoyed him.

you on the other hand did not know about his day at all and thought it would be nice of you to make a surprise visit. walking in with a huge smile on your face stopping midway when you realize he wasn’t at the counter. “where’s samu?” you asked sweetly to the employee

“he’s in the back, i think he has a headache,” she says giving you a small smile. you can tell something was off by the way she spoke but decided to just brush it off and make your way to the back. “hi samu! surprise!” you exclaimed cheerfully as you make your way towards him

he just kind of looks at you, which you thought was weird, but you decided to hug him anyways. when he doesn’t hug you back and groan, you pull away and look at him “baby i heard you had a headache. i didn’t bring any medicine, but we could eat first and i-” 

you couldn’t even finish your sentence since osamu just stood up. he was infuriated and had no clue why, usually loved listening to you but today he was just annoyed. “look y/n a don’t mean ta be rude, but a don't have the energy for this right now. please just go home.” he said coldly staring right at you.

“excuse me? i came here to surprise you and this is what i get??” you said in shock, voice a little louder this time. rolling his eyes “Oh wow am so surprised! now will ya please go home? a don’t wanna argue right now!” he yelled. with tears forming in your eyes you quickly wiped them and left. osamu knew he shouldn’t have said all that, but he was too mad to run after you in front of all the customers. 

you rushed home and sluggishly made your way to your room to change into something comfier, making your way to the couch, curling up into a ball allowing your tears to fall, and somehow falling asleep, after getting tired of crying. he gets home a few hours later, guilt building up in his stomach as he mentally slaps himself for the things he said. 

walking into the living room he opened the lights and you were the first thing he noticed. seeing you curled up into a ball on the couch made his heart drop to his stomach. you on the other hand woke up because of the sudden change of lighting. 

gradually adjusting your sight you see him and switch your gaze onto the floor when you saw him look at you too. seeing your puffy eyes he walks towards you slowly and sits beside you giving you enough space. “am sorry, a shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on ya.”

you look at him with watery eyes and his heart sinks “yea i was just trying to be nice, sorry i didn’t warn you before coming” he opened his arms and you instinctively scooted closer to him, he sighs “no a love it when you surprise me a was jus having a bad day a love ya so much ok?” finally hugging him “okay i love you too” giving you a quick kiss he offered to make you food and of course you said yes.

OIKAWA -

you love oikawa, and you’re very supportive and understanding especially when it comes to his career. but he has an awful habit of overworking himself and as much as you love him you can't bear the fact that you couldn’t even see him anymore.

he goes home late at night -as in you’re already sound asleep late- and when you do stay up to see him, he’s too tired to even keep a conversation. then the next morning he’s gone before you could even wake up. you’ve spoken to him about this many times, but alas nothing changed.

you woke up to an empty bed as usual, but today was different though, you’ve planned a dinner for about 2 weeks now. you were very excited because it’s been so long since you both spent some quality time together and he promised to come home early. 

getting up you send him a little text reminding him of your dinner tonight, with a smile you head on over to the bathroom to get ready for work. once work was over you made a quick visit to the grocery store to buy the ingredients you’ll need to make tonight’s dinner. 

quietly humming to yourself while going through each aisle, and double-checking your list to make sure you’re not missing anything while checking your phone here and there. oikawa still hasn’t replied “he must be busy,” you say to yourself as you send him another text about the dinner just in case. after about 30 minutes you get home rushing since it was already late, and immediately getting started on dinner. 

once you're done you sat down and waited, and waited, and waited. it's been 4 hours. dinners cold and still no sign of your boyfriend. you decided to call him pissed off that he couldn’t even show up to one dinner, “hello? y/n i can't talk right now i still need to practice” 

he said as soon as he picked up. “tooru? did you get my texts? what about dinner, we’ve made plans for this 2 weeks prior! i even-” you were cut off “look just eat without me ok? we can eat again somet-” now it was your turn to cut him off. 

“oikawa tooru, you leave the house while i’m asleep and come back when i'm asleep. i just wanted to spend time with you..whatever good luck at practice,” you replied as you hang up. his heart sank when he heard the crack in your voice rushing to his car on his way home to you because he knows he fucked up. 

buying your favorite flowers for you on the way home cursing himself and the world for making it traffic at that exact moment. when he got home the first thing he saw was the food and you fast asleep on the couch. he felt a pang of guilt about being late. 

“y/n chan?” he said while gently waking you up. you stare at him with red puffy eyes and he hugged you giving you the flowers “im sorry baby, i should’ve prioritized you and our dinner. i promise ill do better” you saw how genuine he was being so you accepted the flowers and hugged him tighter as he offered to reheat the food you made.

reblogs are highly appreciated!

[sslytheringhufflepufff]

Tranquil

Min Yoongi/SUGA x Chubby Reader

It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything so I hope you guys like this

It’s very fluffy so if you want more like this from other members let me know <3

The day was slow, painfully slow to be exact. You opened a couple of weeks ago but you still weren’t as known as you wanted to be. The door’s bell rang bringing you back from your thoughts and two young men walked in, one a little bit taller than the other “Hi, welcome to Tranquil, how may I help you?” You said smiling at them politely “Hello, can I please get a large Americano” the tallest of the two said “Sure, anything else?” You asked and the tallest turned around and asked “What do you want?” “An Iced americano, large” said the other one in a broken English but easy to understand “Okay, Name for the order?” “Namjoon” “Okay it’ll be ready shortly” you said smiling at them “Ask her” the other men said while taping Namjoons shoulder “Do you have any private place here where we could work?” “We don’t have a private seating area but the shops barely gets customers, but if you guys want you can take a seat on the booth at the back, that’s where I hide from my boss” you said laughing “Great, thank you” Namjoon said turning around “You heard her, head out” the other one nodded and gave you a small smile “Here’s your order, you guys can stay as long as you want, the shop gets lonely sometimes so its nice to know that there’s people here” “Thanks” Namjoon said smiling and taking the order walking away with his friend.

A couple of days have passed and Namjoon and his friend whose name I still don’t know but came to the realization is extremely adorable have been to the shop everyday usually ordering the same thing always which I don’t mind because it’s easier than making other drinks that take more time. The bell at the door rang making you stand up smiling you greet the customer you know but not his name “Hi, you’re alone today, same as always?” You smile at him and he nods “What’s going to be the name for the order?” He stared at you for a moment before answering “Yoongi” you smile finally learning his name writing it down on the cup “Ill take it to your table” “I’m going to sit there today” he said pointing at the table by a big window in front of the counter “Okay” you nodded and smiled as he turned around and walked towards the table setting down his bags and sitting down. He took out a notebook, his computer and some earphones and started writing as you made his drink looking at the name on the cup “Yoongi, hmph cute like him” you whispered smiling, grabbing their drink taking it to his table “Enjoy” you say smiling at him, he smiles back which gives you butterflies in your stomach, he has a really cute smile, you start walking back “Hey, wait” you turn around looking back at him “Yes?” He stares at you for a while before speaking “ Your Name?” Smiling “Y/n” he smiles and nods “Pretty too” you look at him and blush lightly laughing at his comment “Thank you” you say walking back to the serving counter heading through the back door closing it behind you letting out a sigh and replaying his words on you mind smiling at them jumping a little as you try to calm yourself and grabbing something random to make it look as if you were looking for something in the back and heading back to the counter sighting as you look up staring at Yoongi, he has white hair and is very pale but he looks angelic, the sunlight is hitting him in the face lightly making his dark brown eye look lighter ‘he really looks like an angel while I look like this’ you thought to yourself as you looked down. You were chubby, which there’s nothing wrong with it, but boys like Yoongi would never go for a girl like you, heck no boy ever went for a girl like you, at your age you’ve never had a boyfriend or anything close to that it it was fine but it got lonely sometimes, you just wished for something special, someone special. You sighed going back to work cleaning the floor and making some orders here and there, the night was getting close and Yoongi was still at the table sometimes glancing up looking at you without you noticing, he stared at you while you talked to other customers, your charisma and personality shinning with them, he really thought you were beautiful with your chubby adorable cheeks that made him want to squish them and kiss them but he didn’t really have the nerve to even talk to you, hell he just asked your name after a week of convincing Namjoon to come with him everyday until today where he had to come alone because Namjoon was meeting up with one of their other friends, he invited Yoongi but he really wanted to see you again so he declined and got the courage to come the the shop, and here he is, staring at you while you prepared another order.

The next day Yoongi came in with a small smile on his face as you greet him “Ice Americano?” “Actually not today” “oh?” “I came by to ask you on a date” he said smiling wide showing his adorable gummy smile “Really?” “Yes, unless you don’t want to” he said hurriedly as his cheeks turned pinkish red “I mean i would love to but are you sure? You look like an angle while i look like-“ “A Goddess” you stared at him looking for the lie in his eyes but all you saw was honesty “Yoongi I-“ “Please” you sighed “you don’t have to do that” “Do what?“ he said looking at you confused “I really want to take you on a Date y/n, look maybe you don’t like me like that but-“ “No Yoongi, i really like you and i would love to go on a date with you but I don’t want this to be a joke” “It isn’t, i swear its not, since the first day i saw you i had to convince Joon to come with me because i never had the nerve to talk to you myself, then i just started coming alone and it felt great because you talked to me like a normal person, you didn’t mind the language barrier and even helped me learn new things, I’ve had this massive crush on you since the first day that you smiled, those cute chubby cheeks that with all honesty it has taken everything inside of me to not reach out and grab them and kiss , because y/n, I think you are the most beautiful person i have ever seen, inside and out. “ he sighed looking at you “I swear the least i want to do is hurt you” he said smiling a little making your heart flutter “You really want to squish my cheeks?” You said giggle at the comment “Yes, I really do, i also want to squish other things but that’s for another time” he said smirking making you turn tomato red “So what do you say?” “Maybe you’ll get to squeeze my cheeks tomorrow after work” you said smiling at him he let out a chuckle “It’s a date then” he said smiling walking away “Hey wait, here” you said giving him and ice americano “You didn’t ask for it but i had it already made for you, its on the house” you said chuckling “I want to marry you” he said grabbing the coffee chuckling while you just stared at him as he walked away feeling you cheeks heat up at his comment that he literally said as if it was nothing out of the ordinary right after asking you on a date “This boy is going to be the death of me.” You said while you ran your hands through your hair smiling lightly thinking about him.

[queenmuzz]

Devil’s Advocate

You’ve read the Dante’s Valentine’s Day Special, now it’s his brother’s time!

You awoke to the soft delicate scent of roses, and knew your ‘secret’ admirer had made yet another appearance.  ‘Secret’ was definitely a bit of an exaggeration, but still, you enjoyed these clandestine little gifts you had received, and were willing to wait as long as it took for the man responsible to reveal himself.

That man, of course, was the stoic, stony, yet surprisingly sensitive Elder son of Sparda, Vergil.  As a demon hunter yourself, you had come into contact with the Legendary Devil Hunter, Dante quite a while ago, but only recently, had you met the twin brother he’d never spoken to you about.  You never asked, but you sensed some tension, albeit rather gentle tension between the brothers, but you had decided ‘any friend and/or relative of Dante, is a friend of mine’.  And so, you attempted to befriend the aloof man, and though it took a while, it actually wasn’t as hard as you had expected.  

You had proven yourself an adept fighter, a voracious reader, and a perceptive listener, to the man, and cautiously, (and much to Dante’s surprise), you’d formed a friendship with him, a silent understanding that you had each other’s back, that he’d be at your side when fighting off the denizens of Hell, and you’d be there when he tried to figure out how to navigate a (frankly terrifying) world he hadn’t been a part of for over two decades.  

It HAD been nice, enjoying his silent presence, until your friendship had blossomed into something more serious...at least on your end.  Even a blind man could tell he was attractive, and behind his stony mask, there was a man who was deep down, courteous and kind.  A man you could imagine spending the rest of your life with.  But there was a teensy weensy fly in the ointment: You had no idea if Vergil would ever reciprocate your feelings.  It had taken so much time and patience to form a platonic relationship with him, and you didn’t want to destroy what was a perfectly good friendship over something as trivial as unrequited feelings.

But then, a box of chocolates had appeared on your desk one day.  Your favourite, the ones with the silky smooth French Vanilla filling, straight from the little chocolatier from across town.   Dante also had been hovering around, just out of sight, and just happened to walk in as you opened the box, making you suspect he had gotten them for you.  But seeing as he was more interested in ‘helping’ you eat the contents, as opposed to your reaction, you chalked it up to a thankful client.  Strange, it didn’t have a note accompanying it.

Then, a few weeks later… something appeared on your dresser in the small room you ‘rented’ (AKA, helped Dante keep the lights on) from the devil in red.  It was a beautiful green leather planner, with a matching enamel pen, all wrapped simply with a sky blue silk ribbon.  It had been your first clue that the box of chocolates were not just a gift from an anonymous client.  

Because you had seen this exact planner in the window of a little out-of-the way boutique while you were out running errands, and had stopped to admire the fine craftsmanship, but winced at the price tag.  You had planned to buy it later on, when you got paid from your latest job, but by then, it was gone, purchased by another customer.

The fact that this was the exact same handcrafted book that had been on display, and was now your possession, was no coincidence.  And...who was with you to run errands on that very day, who watched your eyes lit up as you peered at it through the glass?  Vergil.  There could be no doubt, the man was leaving gifts for you.  A token of friendship?  Both gifts could be seen as purely platonic, but there was always the chance…

And yet, when you came down the stairs that morning, to see Vergil sipping on his morning tea, trying to figure out the new fangled ‘cell-phone’ his son had given him, he barely gave you anything but a perfunctory nod, which made you question if he really was the gifter.  After all, even someone so emotionally guarded as Vergil would give some sort of clue, a slight inquisitiveness at why you couldn’t get that darn smile off your face.  But nothing. Perhaps the poor man was too shy to admit his feelings, or even quite understand his feelings for you...romantic or not.  And so, you would not mention the gift to him or anyone else.

A week later was the thing that really made up your mind.  Not only were you awoken by the scent, you could have sworn as you opened your eyes, a flash of bright blue, and what sounded like someone hurriedly leaving your room in a tremendous hurry.  (Like Dante when you caught him eating the last of your chocolates)

There, placed delicately on the pillow beside your head, was a single blue rose, its soft velvet petals unfurling in the morning light.  It had been freshly picked, and had no blemish.  You sat up, and cautiously picked it up, as if you weren’t quite sure it was a figment of a rapidly fading dream, and inhaled its scent.  This was no dream, the sweet scent was too real, too vibrant.

This sealed it.  The gift was from Vergil, and the meaning was clear.  One did not leave secret flower gifts to people they considered as ‘just friends’.  You spun the stem between your fingers, admiring its beauty from every angle.  You’d have to find a way to thank Vergil for such a thoughtful gift, to admit you had feelings for him too...but first, you’d need something to place the rose in, to preserve its beauty.  And Dante must have a vase in his kitchen somewhere….

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

It turns out, Dante did NOT have a vase in his kitchen.  Still, there had been a champagne glass, with the words “HAPPY NEW YEAR! 2007!” written on it, so it would have to do.  It didn’t dampen your happiness as you hummed and spritzed the flower with water, as you placed it in the newly cleaned glass. You were so happy, that you hadn’t noticed that someone also had entered the kitchen, and was silently watching you.  Only when you spun around, finally deciding on a perfect place to place it, did you come face to face with Vergil.

He seemed pale, even more than usual as he stood there, still in his pajamas, not looking at you, but at the flower in your hand.  After a few moments of awkward silence, he spoke. “Where.” a pause, as if he was having trouble voicing his thoughts, “where did you get that?”

You were taken aback.  Why would he ask such a question?  Surely he had given you the gift!

You decided to answer as truthfully as you could.

“It was on my pillow this morning.  I thought maybe you had given it to me…” you trailed off dumbly as he just stared at you.  “Along with the chocolates and the notebook…” Now Vergil looked alarmed, and you realized you had just misjudged the situation.  It was obvious that he hadn’t given you anything.  But even now, you searched his face, hoping against hope that he was just joking, that he was playing dumb, even though it would be totally out of character for him.

And without warning, he spun around, left the kitchen with footsteps that were quiet to a normal person, but for you, they sounded like the angry stomps of an elephant.  Out of sight, you heard him ascend the stairs, and then...his bedroom door slammed.

You stood there, confused and upset, the blue rose petals trembling in their makeshift vase.  You felt like something had changed between yourself and Vergil, and you were pretty sure it could never be restored. 💙💙💙💙💙💙

To say Vergil was angry was an understatement.  He was absolutely livid, as he stalked up the stairs and into his room.  Not at you, that was absurd.  You were innocent in all of this, an unfortunate victim.  His anger was directed at one person...himself.

He yanked open the nightstand drawer, and to his fury, the chocolates he had placed there a month and a half ago were gone.  He had heard you and Dante speaking about sweet tooths, and you had admitted that there was a little shop that sold dark chocolates with gooey french vanilla filling that you could die for.

And so, without really thinking, he had gone there, and purchased a box for you.  Why?  As  a token of friendship? A way of saying ‘thank you’ for being patient and understanding with him?  In the end, he couldn’t really decide WHY he wanted to give them to you, and so he placed them in the bottom of the drawer, away from prying eyes, (or his brother’s sensitive nose).  Maybe he could give it to you when he had a plausible excuse, such as your birthday.  But now...it had vanished.

Beginning to panic, he ran over to his wardrobe, and began pushing things aside on the top shelf.  The planner, which he was certain he had hidden under several of his sweaters, was also nowhere to be seen.

What you’d been doing that day, he couldn’t quite recall, only that he felt some compulsion to come with you.  To protect you? No...it was just to run some errands...then why had he felt better by your side?

As you and him chatted about plans for his son and grandchildren to visit, you had suddenly stopped at a storefront window, your eyes locked on something in the display.  A beautiful, handbound planner, with a matching pen as a mate.

“My old one is nearly used up...I’ve been looking for one to replace it, but something a bit more durable than what you get in a big box store, you know?”  Why had his chest hurt when he saw your crestfallen look at the price tag, and how you reluctantly walked away?

Only a day later, when he went back to purchase the book, did the clerk help him realize why he was feeling the way he did.  

“Ah a gift for someone special?” they asked as they tied a decorative bow around it.

“Yes...It’s for…” a friend?  No...that wasn’t it.  It was something more, at least for him.  He honestly didn’t know what you felt about him, and frankly, he was terrified to find out.

“It’s for someone very special to me”

And yet, when he had come home, instead of handing it to you, taking secret delight in the joy on your face… he had hidden it, out of sight, out of mind.  Because what if he was overstepping?  What if you saw him as just a friend, and nothing more?  Could he ever face you again, after destroying something he and you had worked so hard to build?

And now...he looked at his dresser, to find nothing but a glass of water.  The night before, he had, on a whim, stopped at a florist and purchased one, perfect blue rose.  This time, unlike the chocolates and the planner, who had a much longer lifespan, the rose would lose its lustre in a day, forcing him to give it to you, to confess his feelings for you.  

And yet, as you smiled at him as he walked in that evening, telling him that supper was almost ready, did he change his mind.  He’d just place it on the dresser, and let it bloom for him, and him alone, a reminder of his cowardice.

How you had gotten a hold of all three things, made no sense to him.  

Wait...three?

You had mentioned the book and chocolates, and he had seen the rose in your hands, but you hadn’t said anything about the fourth intended gift. He had been contracted to kill a demon that had been summoned by some robbers trying to break into a jewelry shop, (a creative way to destroy the security systems, but it had backfired immensely, as demon summoning usually did.)   The elderly owner, in gratitude, had offered him the pick of anything in his collection.

Vergil was going to pass on the offer, as there was only one piece he had worn, and it was long gone, but then his eye fell upon a delicate silver chain, with a pendant of sapphire and tiny diamonds.  You would certainly love it, he had decided, and so the grateful owner had placed it in a black velvet case and given it to him.  But as a gift, it was far too forward on its own...it was best given after he had confessed his feelings to you… and so it had laid, under his bed, waiting for him to work up the courage to do something.

He quickly got on his hands and knees, frantically searching for the box...but nothing…  Just a dust free spot outline where it had been.  Where did it go?  You didn’t have it, or you would have mentioned it.  It wasn’t in his room…  The only person who could have access to his room would be...Dante…

He grabbed Yamato, intending to wake up his no doubt still slumbering brother with an impalement.  It was so like his little brother, taking things that didn’t belong to him. And the implications troubled him.  Was DANTE trying to court you?  You and him had known each other far longer, but he’d never expected his idiot brother to try to undercut Vergil’s attempts for your affection…

Ah, but you never did anything in the first place to court them, he reminded himself, you were never even in the running…

Still, by the time he was done… There would be nothing left of Dante to court you-

He stopped in his tracks.  There, standing in the doorway, was an ethereal blue figure. His doppelganger, its face unreadable as it stared at him intensely.

“Out of way,” he ordered, but all he got was an amused huff.

Vergil was not amused and tried to barge past it, tried to summon it back to him, but he met both as if they were a solid brick wall.  This was odd, in battle his companion would always follow his directions,  why not now?  Whatever it had in mind, it wasn’t going to let him through.

“My brother has stolen things from me, don’t you understand why I am angry?”

He’d never seen his familiar  show any emotion, but now… he was certain it was laughing...

Laughing at him…

“What,” he said between gritted teeth, “do you think is so amusing?”  But all he got was the creature striding past him, and opensx the drawer of his nightstand, mimed taking something out, and then going to the wardrobe, and pretending to retrieve something from the top shelf.  And then, claws clicking the hardwood, it walked to the dresser, and plucked an invisible rose out of the glass, before turning back to him, a look of pride on its face.

And now the pieces were falling into place.

His Doppelganger had given you the chocolates

His Doppelganger, an extension of himself, had given you the planner

His Doppelganger, himself without his stony emotional wall, had given you the rose.

He stood there, unable to think.  Betrayed, by all things....himself.  And yet, he felt a wave of relief. As he watched you humming, and cleaning the glass to place the rose in, he saw the delight and happiness in your eyes.  And you seemed to already guess it was him that was giving you the gift.  Perhaps, his fear of ruining his friendship with you was unfounded.  But his reaction to the scene in the kitchen a mere few minutes ago threatened to ruin everything, and he had no idea of how to fix it.  Vergil was never fond of apologizing, nor very good at it.

And then, with a flourish, his doppelganger’s tail flicked around, and the tip hovered before him, wrapped around a familiar narrow black velvet box.  It seemed his companion hadn’t given away everything just yet.

Sighing in defeat, he took the box, and only then, did the ghostly apparition allow him passage, and followed him down the hall, until, after a moment’s hesitation he paused by your door.  It had been open when he had first come down the stairs, but now it was closed, indicating you had holed yourself in there after his confrontation with you.  Looking down at the box in his hands, he realized he had one chance to make things right.  He took one last glance at the doppelganger, who merely stood a distance away (blocking the stairway, he noticed)

💕💕💕💕💕💕

You sat on your bed, unable to take your eyes off the rose on your dresser, looking a bit less vibrant than before.  Where had you gone so wrong?  You had let your feelings colour your assumptions, let your blossoming affection for the man made you think that he must obviously felt the same for you.  But obviously you had misjudged, and now the carefully laid relationship was on the verge of crumbling, never to be rebuilt again.  Hopefully you two could still work together.

A soft knock came from your door, and hesitantly, you approached, knowing exactly who would be on the other side, but unable to figure out what to say.  Apologise?  Act like nothing happened? Pretend it was all a joke?You took a deep breath, and hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst, you opened the door.

There stood Vergil, stiffly, with his hands behind his back, looking like a boy forced by his mother to apologise for egging his neighbor's house.  For an awkward few moments, both of you first stared at each other, then looked at the floor, as if suddenly interested in the pattern of the hardwood.  Finally, when you could take it no more, you spoke first.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed that you had gotten me those things...I guess I had just,” you paused, desperate to not cross this rubicon, but seeing little other choice, “I guess I had just hoped that they were coming from you.  That they meant something I had hoped was true…”

Vergil pursed his lips, opened his mouth to say something, closed it again, and looked like he was about to turn away, before a  threatening rumbling grumble down the hallway, just out of sight, rooted him to the spot.  You saw his adam’s apple bob up and down as he attempted to form his words.

“No…” he began hesitantly, “I did not give you those gifts, although I wish I had.” You blinked at that last part, about to ask him exactly what he meant before deciding not to interrupt him, as it seemed he was working so hard to muster up what he wished to say.

“The chocolates, the planners and...the rose, were given to you, not by me, but by it…” he motioned to the side, and you peeked out your door to see Vergil’s doppelganger, tail practically wagging, waving to you like an eager schoolchild.  You barely caught in the corner of your eye, Vergil sighing in embarrassment.

“But wait,” you were connecting things together, “isn’t...your doppelganger basically...you?” Vergil bit his lip, then nodded.

“Yes, it’s an extension of me, but a version unshackled by doubts and fears…” he admitted, looking more and more uncomfortable by the minute.  

“So...you and it have the same feelings, same thoughts...just that it is able to act on them...which means…” The sudden realization made your mouth very dry.

“That I had...every… intention to give you those things, but my own weakness, my own fears of how you would react prevented me from following through with my plan.  Apparently,” he nodded back, almost in a gesture of thanks towards the ethereal creature, “Even I was getting sick of my own procrastination, and so...IT took matters into its own hands...or claws, as that is a more apt description.”

You did your best to suppress your giggles as the doppelganger smugly stuck out its chest, no doubt being quite pleased at itself.

“But…” Vergil’s voice yanked you back, “It also gave me one final chance to make things right, to take that step I have long feared to tread.”  From behind his back, he pulled out a long black velvet case, and gently, under your widening eyes, undid the clasp of the box, revealing a beautiful, delicate silver necklace, with an amulet that was a deep blue, and glittered like the entire Milky Way had been shoved inside of it.

“Will you forgive this hapless fool?” he asked as he offered it to you.  “I may not be as skilled with my emotions as I am with the blade, nor do I truly understand this whole ‘courting’ business but-”

He never finished, because you grabbed his arm, and pulled him in for a deep long kiss.  The necklace was beautiful, there was no denying that, but it wasn’t the gifts, nor even the way they had been ‘given’ to you that had attracted you.  It was the man, the frustratingly complex handsome, adorably awkward Vergil, that you had fallen in love with.   And silently, you pulled him inside your room, and silently shut the door, giving you both the privacy you both deserved.  No doubt it wouldn’t take Dante long to figure out what was going on, but that was a problem for the future you.  The future BOTH of you…

But as the door shut, you swore that down the hallway, you heard a very pleased, very demonic, rumble of a chuckle…..

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian - “Always and Forever” Chapter 2

After the death of their daughter Grace, Kurt and Sebastian drift apart. Kurt wraps himself up in his grief so tightly he starts to push Sebastian away, and Sebastian, feeling himself shoved aside when he needs Kurt most, cheats. They make the decision to start over, to leave New York City and their pain behind, and start over again in a house Upstate. Sebastian buys Kurt a "fixer upper" and gives him free reign. While redecorating the room that will be his studio, Kurt comes across something interesting underneath the wallpaper. It starts to become an obsession for Kurt - an obsession that begins to replace Kurt's love for his husband, which Sebastian is holding on to by a thread. Can Kurt and Sebastian break through the pain and the hurt and find a way to fall in love again?

Read on AO3

Chapter 2 (5061 words)

The first evening in their new house becomes a long, exhaustive dance of unpacking and cleaning in preparation for the movers to arrive in the morning. What, in the past, would have been an upbeat two-step of flirting in the hallways while lugging in suitcases, punctuated by the occasional stop, dip, and smooch, is now a formal, boxy waltz, with Sebastian giving Kurt a wide-berth whenever he hears his husband coming, and Kurt pausing in doorways, eyes darting elsewhere when Sebastian passes by.

The rush to clear the dirt away and make things suitable for the furniture they chose to bring with them affords Kurt ample opportunities to send Sebastian on a host of errands, ensuring him stretches of time that he can spend alone to reflect and think.

Consider the past and plan for the future.

Even after the furniture arrives, they should have tons of space left. They had decided not to bring everything they own with them. They aren’t selling their penthouse. Keeping it furnished for the odd trip back seems like the practical thing to do. So, they only packed those things that they absolutely could not live without. 

They didn’t bring any of the furniture from Grace's room. That Kurt donated to the Salvation Army with the exception of one item – a Winnie the Pooh lamp that he had found in mint condition, ironically, at the Salvation Army, on the day he and Sebastian found out their surrogate was pregnant. It's ceramic, hand-painted, with Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh sitting back to back as the base, each holding a handful of balloons. One red balloon, larger than the rest, contains the bulb, the colored plastic lending a rosy tint to its glow. Along the bottom edge are written the words: “If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.”

Kurt’s mother had read him Winnie the Pooh books his entire childhood. He could recite most of A. A. Milne’s writings by the time he turned eight.

The year his mother passed away.

He'd read those same books to his daughter. She’d had them mostly memorized, too.

Seven hours of scrubbing, sanitizing, and (for Sebastian) racing around town wipe the two of them out, to the point where falling asleep is simply a matter of inflating an air mattress and putting heads down on pillows. They had picked up a Queen size one at a JCPenney along the way. It’s nowhere near as luxurious as the custom-made King size bed currently stuck in the back of an Allied Moving Truck, waiting to take a journey on the 495. This mattress is a tighter fit than they’re used to. It doesn’t help that the thing sinks in the middle whenever one of them rolls over. With the both of them measuring six-foot-plus tall, they have to lie in the fetal position to fit comfortably, which would require them to spoon. But Kurt finds a way to keep himself out of his husband’s arms.

The material the mattress is made out of seems perpetually ice-cold, not warming up a touch with their combined body heat, which Kurt didn’t anticipate. They have the gas and electricity switched on, but there’s something wrong with the central heating. They don’t have the requisite amount of blankets to keep from freezing, which adds to the misery. Despite being pissed at Sebastian, Kurt doesn’t have the heart to send him out at one a.m. to the 24-hour Walmart, so he closes his eyes and resigns himself to suffering until dawn.

For the next five hours, Kurt’s mind stays blank. No noise, no dreams, and no flashbacks, thank God. It’s not restful, but it’s the best he could have hoped for. The last half a year has not been conducive to dreaming. The nightmares keep coming, one after the other, the next one worse than the last, shaking him to his core until he jars awake with a pain in his chest like someone had tried, in steel boots, to stomp him into the dirt. But waking up doesn’t solve the problem. He doesn’t know what he hates worse – waking up weeping in his husband’s arms or waking up weeping alone.

Kurt’s feelings for Sebastian are complicated when he thinks they shouldn’t be. Kurt should either love him and forgive him or hate him and move on. But he loves him and hates him. His hands itch to hold him, but a second later, he wants to shove him away. He wants to go, but he can’t imagine leaving.

As much as it sucks, Kurt can’t imagine living without him.

He would prefer to go back to being shamelessly and hopelessly in love with him. Hating him has become a crutch. But it’s enough to get him through. Regardless of that fact, which should tie up the loose ends, mend the hurts and cool the hate, it doesn’t, because Kurt can’t find a way to forgive him.

A well-meaning Facebook friend had told Kurt over Messenger that the problem was Kurt’s pride had been hurt by Sebastian cheating. Push the pride aside and get over it. Ultimately, the marriage is more important. Then he said something about Kurt putting on his “big boy” pants, mentioned God, and quoted the Bible.

A minute later, Kurt blocked him.

That’s another blessing of moving - leaving behind the get over it already crowd. He hates them more than the forever sorry folks. The people who tell him to move on, to get over it, to put it behind him, don’t really care about him. They want him to stop complaining, as if they’re obligated to follow him on social media, and that puts the burden on him, in turn, to make them feel comfortable.

Maybe some of them do care, but not enough to put themselves in his shoes and understand that it’s just not that easy. Being on the outside of the swamp and looking in at a man who’s drowning, yelling at him to grab a branch and pull himself free, is different than being the man stuck hip-deep in mud that feels like cement and losing a fight that’s beyond his control.

Sometimes, as a matter of self-preservation, you simply give up.

Kurt doesn’t know who Sebastian slept with. He has his suspicions, but he doesn’t know for sure, and Sebastian won’t confirm. He says it’s because he wants to put it behind him, forget it ever happened, and that infuriates Kurt. If sleeping with another man was something Sebastian would need to put behind him, why even do it? Or (and Kurt hates himself for thinking like this), if Sebastian didn’t want Kurt to dwell on it, why not take steps to ensure that Kurt wouldn’t find out? Sebastian, of all people, should have known that this would eat Kurt up inside. It’s the kind of thing he’d never let go of. Yes, Kurt would be devastated if he discovered the cheating and the cover-up years after the fact, but he’d be in a better place to mourn his marriage apart from mourning his daughter.

What Sebastian did was selfish on so many levels.

Kurt knows that sex isn’t love, but he can't help wondering – was there a moment in the middle of all of it, caught up in the kissing and the fucking, where it felt like love?

Kurt met Sebastian in high school. Kurt wasn’t just a virgin back then. Oh, no. He had created his own category of virgin for which he could have had a cape and costume custom made – Captain Super Prude. Sex was a taboo topic for him, so much so that his high school’s chastity club hated him. 

Apparently, he set the bar too high, made them look loose in comparison. 

As much as he had fantasized about finding a special someone who would sweep him off his feet, gently usher him into manhood by making soulful but passionate love to him, he preferred not to think about it too often or too in-depth. The "talk” between him and his father was a mortifying experience.

There were pamphlets involved. 

He still has some of them.

When it came to finding a boyfriend, Sebastian wasn’t what Kurt had planned on at all. Where Kurt was attracted to debonair, old-school, gentlemanly types a few years older than himself, Sebastian was crass, rude, explicit, and a year younger. On top of that, he was (to coin a phrase stolen from one of Kurt’s best friends, Quinn) the biggest French whore of them all. Sebastian didn’t care for romance and he didn’t attach emotions to sex, but he definitely had a way of making men fall in love with him. Kurt Hummel and Sebastian Smythe were the two people in the world least likely to fall in love with one another. But according to Sebastian, he fell in love with Kurt long before Kurt fell in love with him.

Sebastian claimed that Kurt was the first man he had ever fallen in love with, and at first sight, no less.

He whispered those words in Kurt’s ear the first time they made love.

He said those exact words during his toast at their wedding.

He wrote them in every birthday, Christmas, and anniversary card he ever gave to Kurt.

He said them over Grace’s crib the night they brought her home.

“Look at this little thing, Kurt,” Sebastian had sighed, reaching out to stroke Grace’s cheek. “Our daughter. Is it ridiculous that I’ve only known her for two days and I’m already in love with her?

“Technically, nine months and two days. But, no. It’s not ridiculous.”

“I never thought I could fall so fast in love with another human being before I met you.”

“Really?” 

“A-ha.” Sebastian smiled when Grace yawned, her whole mouth moving in a complete circle before she settled down again. “I fell in love with you the second I laid eyes on you. And then, well, it was all over for me.”

Those words, the memory of that happiness, breaks Kurt’s heart. Could it be possible that, after close to twenty years of marriage, after reciting those words so many times, they didn’t mean anything anymore? Had Sebastian found someone else he could fall in love with?

Kurt has asked, but Sebastian won’t answer that question. He says it’s insulting.

Whatever the answer, he probably thinks he’s doing his husband a kindness. What he’s really doing is prolonging the torture, not giving Kurt the information he needs to make a decision that he can stand behind. Every time Kurt looks at his husband, he sees touches on his skin that don’t belong to him, kisses on his lips that he didn’t put there.

Kurt doesn’t know how to make himself see past them.

Instead, he looks away.

The second Kurt feels sunlight on his face, he’s out of bed. He grabs his messenger bag and pads down the hall to his studio before Sebastian can stir.

The room looks different with blurry morning sunlight bleeding through the windows. Kurt didn’t put black-out curtains up, and the sheer curtains that came with the house let fingers of light poke through, bouncing off the wallpaper and brightening the floor. 

Yikes.

Kurt examines the floor now that he sees it clearly. It’s a mess - the wood warped as if someone had paced it incessantly. It had been varnished at one time. Spots of resin dot the boards like oily puddles. The wood itself (some variety of walnut, Kurt suspects) has blackened to a morbid pitch with age. It sucks up the light and gives little back.

“Oh, yeah,” Kurt murmurs, pressing around the brittle edge of one spot with his toe, watching it crackle into shards. “This has to be completely redone.”

He gets stuck on the idea that this room could have been his daughter’s if she were still alive. He and Sebastian had talked about raising Grace in a suburban environment, and as much as he regrets not giving her a house with a yard and room to grow, Kurt leaned heavily on the side of staying in the city. Some of his motives were selfish. He loved Manhattan. It had been his lifelong dream to end up there. He wanted his daughter to grow up with all of the things he didn’t – culture, diversity, theaters and libraries and museums a train ride away. He didn’t want her raised around the closed, narrow minds of small-town folk. He wanted her to be an independent thinker – liberated, rational, intelligent. But he also wanted her to be compassionate and kind. He wanted her to know the world, its wonders and its failings, the way it truly was, not the way it looked on a movie screen, and long to change it for the better. They participated in fundraisers, gathered donations for the homeless, and volunteered in soup kitchens.

Grace was a pure light, a driving force that, at her age, Kurt didn’t get the chance to be.

So in honor of her, he wants his workroom to be bright and colorful - a mixture of his vintage aesthetic and her fun-loving personality. He’ll paint the walls her favorite colors, put homages to her in the details, choose the furnishings she would have preferred.

Since this will be the room he spends most of his time in, he wants it to be everything about his daughter that he adored.

He opens his bag and pulls out his phone, checking the time. 6:08. The movers are supposed to arrive between eight a.m. and ten. But movers, electricians, plumbers, and cable guys never arrive on time. He fishes out his sketchbook, sits on the floor, and gets to work jotting down a layout. First things first, he decides where his drafting table will go, where he’ll store his bolts, where he’ll put his sewing machine, a spot for a work chair, marking places here and there for personal touches like his mother’s vanity, his first-ever dress form, a few of his awards...

And photographs. Lots and lots of photographs.

He didn’t keep photographs in his studio at Vogue. He had an obsession with keeping his private life private, which he doesn’t apologize for. Since he met clients there, he liked to keep that space impersonal. Nothing to get in the way, spark a conversation that might derail the job at hand. 

Unlike Sebastian, who hung candids galore. He stuffed the most Godawful photographs from their high school and college years into collage frames and nailed them to every wall of his office, squeezing things like his degrees and diplomas into far corners so that those pictures could be prominently displayed. He said that people knew the Smythes by name and reputation. If anyone wanted to see his credentials, they could Google them. But when people walked into his office, he wanted them to know that first and foremost, he was a family man.

Sebastian knew from childhood that he would become a lawyer. He never dreamed he would be a father. 

Or a husband.

Those were the two accomplishments he seemed the proudest of.

Kurt regrets not having more pictures of Grace hanging on his studio walls, her smiling face to look at every hour of every day, watching his meetings, overseeing his layouts. She was his good-luck charm, his missing puzzle piece. She deserved a place of honor.

Now, he’ll give her one.

His stomach growls as he works. A smell from somewhere tickles his nose, and he groans. Just a few more seconds of sketching on the hard ground, and he’ll grab a bite to eat… maybe. With his ass numb, he doesn’t see a reason to get up, and bedsides, he’s on a roll. Car doors closing and constant banging echo in, and he winces, his head throbbing from lack of sleep. Dammit! If it would just stop till he finishes! It’s hard enough to concentrate as is! He hopes this is a one-time-only thing. He’d hate to wake up to that cacophony every morning. If he ever decides to go outside and meet the neighbors, he’ll have to find a polite way of asking them not to do whatever that is before he has his morning coffee.

Of course, soundproofing is also an option.

“Kurt? Kurt, are you… ?”

Kurt shifts his legs underneath him. He lifts a hand to massage his shoulders. That mattress must have killed his back. His arms ache something fierce. Sitting on this floor doesn’t help, the uneven boards digging into his legs, but it’s not an impetus for him to stop.

Just one more minute.

One more minute of sketching out this room, and he’ll join the world. One more minute to get his thoughts straight. One more minute to brush aside the things that like to torture him. Forget that his mother died when he was eight, his stepbrother when he was eighteen. Forget that his father passed away three years ago and his daughter six months ago.

Not too long after, his husband cheated.

Five.

That’s how many things he had loved in this world more than himself.

Those are the things that he’d lost.

They were the things he needed to forget in order to make it through till the evening.

He’ll replace the insulation and the drywall, smother everything in a noise-proofing compound, then paint the walls in swirls of pink and gold. He’ll do the ceiling in shades of blue, indigo, and violet, like the sky at night, and cover it in crystals to represent stars the way Grace had wanted to do with her bedroom. Kurt had promised her he would the second everything was over, when they could risk her being around the debris and the fumes.

He has never broken a promise to Grace. He isn’t about to start.

He scribbles those notes in sloppy script in the margin of his paper, wipes tears with the back of his shaking hand. He tries to focus on specifics to bring himself back from the brink of a breakdown. He needs a good cry, but he doesn’t want the comforting that will go with it if Sebastian hears him. He can’t right now. Sebastian comforting Kurt turns into Kurt comforting him back, and Kurt only has the strength to handle one outburst.

“Kurt? Did you want to… ?”

Kurt waves a hand to shoo away the buzzing beside his ear, relieved when it doesn’t take much more than that.

In order to paint the walls, he’ll have to take the wallpaper down.

That brings to mind the corner of torn paper over by the window and the word written underneath.

Darling.

That corner offends him. Kurt keeps entertaining the thought that that word has nothing to do with Sebastian, that there is another layer of wallpaper underneath festooned with line art of flowers, along with quotes from various love poems sprinkled throughout, circa 1800s. But then that would make that one tear and that one word an incredible coincidence since darling is the pet name Sebastian has called Kurt since day one. When he started doing it, every time he said it, Kurt had an urge to sock him on the jaw.

He was a pain in the ass, even back then.

Did Sebastian actually think Kurt would fall for writing darling on the wall? After the things he said? After what he did?

Kurt’s hand trembles so badly, he smudges the ink on his page. He stops writing, takes a deep breath, and counts to ten. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the sun warming his face. It’s gone now when it was there a second ago, which is disconcerting, but he has to ignore that and calm down.

He has to relax.

He promised he’d give this marriage a chance, that he’d try to make this work. Sebastian, so far, has held up his part of the bargain. He’s given Kurt space. He’s listened to him vent uncontested. He’s let Kurt keep tabs on him – where he goes, when he’ll be back, with photo texts in between to prove that he is where he said he would be. Kurt has to give him the benefit of the doubt. If Sebastian extends an olive branch, Kurt should take it.

But did he want to?

“I didn’t hear you when you got up this morning.” Sebastian’s voice starts Kurt’s hand up again. He wants to look busy. He doesn’t want to be caught in a position where he has to give his husband his full attention.

He hasn’t forgotten everything yet.

“Well, you were dead to the world,” Kurt replies, distracted.

“I’m just saying, see? You won’t disturb me. You don’t need to put a bed in here.”

Kurt bobs his head back and forth, adding a place in his layout for a foldout out of spite. “We’ll see. It’s only been the one day.”

“That’s true.” The way Sebastian says it, it sounds like a challenge. A tired challenge. Like Sebastian knows he’s already lost. “So, you like the room?”

“Yeah. I think I do.”

“And what about the rest of the house?”

He doesn’t know why Sebastian sounds like he’s asking. It’s a done deal. They both agreed on a new house. Sebastian found one he thought Kurt would like and bought it. What? Are they going to back out now and magically move somewhere else?

Will moving around from house to house solve what’s wrong between them?

“It’s fine, I guess. I don’t know. I think it’s hard for me to visualize without taking the grand tour. I’ll be able to tell better when I get started decorating.”

“Are you gonna hire that guru guy to help you with the yin and yang stuff?” Sebastian jokes cautiously. “That Kung Fu guy… what’s his name… ?” Sebastian snaps his fingers as if he’s seriously trying to remember.

“He’s a Feng shui practitioner, and his name is Carl.”

“His name's Carl?” Sebastian laughs. “No no no, his name is not Carl. Carl is the name of a dentist. He’s not a guy you call to Wang Chung your house.”

“Feng shui,” Kurt corrects again. “I hired him to help me create balance in our home.” He chuckles despite the fact he doesn’t want to find Sebastian funny. He doesn’t want Sebastian to affect him. But he’s right. The man’s name irked Kurt, too, when Isabelle referred him. “Ridiculous name or not, he seemed like a knowledgeable guy.”

“Do you think that Shaolin stuff could work here?”

Kurt pauses to give the matter some thought, and that kills the moment. The levity becomes saturated by the pain hanging in the room, and Kurt coils further into his sketch.

“That remains to be seen. But I think I’m going to try doing it for myself this time. Of course, the overall effect is going to be completely thrown to heck when you hire whoever never to decorate your office.” Kurt throws a derisive scowl over his shoulder. It misses its mark when Kurt won’t look Sebastian in the eyes.

Sebastian swallows Kurt’s scowl without thinking of a comeback. They’ve had that argument before when Kurt redecorated their penthouse. Kurt felt the need to redecorate whenever something big happened in their lives, but Sebastian’s office was off-limits, so it stayed the same. Kurt tried to find one or two things to put into his design scheme that would bring a theme from Sebastian’s office out so that the penthouse would blend, but whatever the thing he chose was – a print, a vase, an ottoman, or a coffee table – it stuck out like a sore thumb, until Kurt tried less and less.

“Can’t fight City Hall,” he’d say, returning to the business of finishing the rest of the space. Things changed around them, and yet, in Sebastian’s carefully curated world, life stood still. The last time Kurt redecorated was before Grace was born. Nothing in the penthouse matched Sebastian’s office after that.

“I want you to do it.”

Kurt stops scribbling. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

Kurt almost looks back to see if Sebastian is serious. He stares at the paper in front of him, the surface more ink than white. “Are you… are you sure? You always said that we need our separate spaces.”

“That’s only because you’re a little heavy-handed with the pastels. I trust you. Just don’t go making it all shabby chic.”

Kurt is speechless. This is the opportunity he has been waiting for their entire marriage – to decorate Sebastian’s office. Once upon a time, he saw it as the ultimate gesture of trust.

Back when he was naïve and fairly stupid.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” Kurt debates standing up and giving Sebastian a hug or a handshake. This seems like a time that would warrant it. But when he rolls an inch to his knees, his entire body screams with pain. God, he feels old. How can he be this stiff after just half an hour?

Kurt returns to his planning. Even though he doesn’t feel prepared to leave his sanctuary, he fixes on that solid mask he’s been wearing for weeks around Sebastian. Just one more minute. One more minute, and he’ll go downstairs. He thinks he says it out loud. He expects Sebastian to go back to their room and get ready for the day, but he stays in place like a statue, watching Kurt draw, huddled over his sketchbook with his back turned to him and the door.

Kurt waits to hear the sound of footsteps retreat the way they came, but they don’t. His pencil stops above a square drawn in the corner meant to represent his stereo. He can’t continue his drawing with his husband watching, so he bites the bullet.

“Was there something else you needed?” he asks.

“They’ve… uh… got the bed in,” Sebastian says. “And the TV.”

Kurt scrunches his nose and lifts his head. What does he mean? The bed and the TV are on the moving truck. Kurt looks at his phone, resting on the floor by his knee.

“What are you talking about?” Kurt scoffs. “The movers haven’t even arrived yet. It’s only 7:15.”

“That’s right.” Sebastian speaks slowly, the way he does when he’s explaining something to Kurt that he thinks Kurt might explode over. He leans forward like he wants to come in but doesn’t without an invitation. “It is 7:15. In the evening.”

Kurt's head snaps up, eyes rolling because Sebastian is crazy.

There’s no way.

He's ready to object, but with his gaze away from his page, he notices something different about the light in the room. Instead of a soft, diffused blue, it has become a thicker yellow. Shadows stretch across the floor that weren’t there before. The room is warmer than he remembers, and the skin of his left shin, folded over his right, feels hot and irritated, like he might have gotten a sunburn.

“Evening?” Kurt shakes his head. “How can it… ? But… why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you come get me?”

“I tried. I told you when the movers arrived. I asked you what you wanted for lunch. I brought you the portable heater and put a lamp in here when it started to get dark.”

Kurt looks around. In the emptiness of the room, they’re easy to see - a plug-in heater behind him, and, in the corner of the room to the left of the door, standing straight and tall like a structural support beam, a brass lamp without a shade, filling the room with artificial light.

The first two pieces of furniture in his new studio, and Sebastian put them there.

Kurt doesn’t want them. He’d rather be cold and alone in the dark.

“We don’t have WiFi or cable yet, but I set up the Blu-ray player,” Sebastian continues. “I thought I could go get some take-out, and we could have a picnic dinner on the bed. Maybe watch a movie?”

Kurt does a 180 on his sore ass and looks at his husband (which is to say he looks at a spot over Sebastian’s head) with a mildly confused expression. He’s not really thinking about the bed or the movie or dinner at all. Even though he was hungry earlier, apparently hours earlier, he’s not hungry now. He couldn’t be less hungry. His desire to eat simply evaporated. It's been waning for weeks. Sometimes he forgets to eat until Sebastian sticks a sandwich in his face. Sebastian has become devoted to keeping Kurt's stomach full. He knows better than to comment on his weight loss, but he keeps a stock of temptable foods on hand.

He’s keeping Kurt on life support.

Sebastian stuck a spear into the heart of what they had together. Now he’s keeping Kurt alive to help him fix it.

Kurt hates that he didn’t see it that way until just now.

“Kurt? Please?”

Here’s the olive branch, Kurt thinks. He has to decide whether he’s going to take it or toss it aside.

He had promised Sebastian he’d try, and Kurt has never broken a promise to Sebastian.

No matter how much he hurts, he’s not going to start tonight.

His father always said that a man is only as good as his word.

Kurt closes his sketchbook. “Alright. I’m coming.” He tries to unfold his legs, but his knees lock up on him, and he rushes to massage the beginnings of a cramp. Sebastian looks like he’s about to spring in and help, but Kurt puts up a hand. “I’ll be a minute.”

Nodding, Sebastian takes a step back. Even with that rejection, he looks happier, more hopeful. He takes his phone out of his pocket and leaves the room. The grateful smile on his lips should fill Kurt with warmth. It used to.

But it doesn’t.

After a meal of Szechuan from a questionable establishment (not questionably clean, just questionably Chinese) and The Devil Wears Prada (a movie Sebastian swore up and down he’d never watch again), Sebastian falls asleep with his head on Kurt’s chest. And Kurt lets him, even if he himself barely gets a minute of peace.

[reinerispretty]

Hello!! I am absolutly in love with Rotations and I'm always so hyped to see another chapter posted! Zuko working at the tea shop was my favorite part of book 2 and I'd love to request maybe a Zuko x reader where the reader was a peasant girl who stumbled into the tea shop one day and loved the tea and talking to Zuko she kept coming back and with each visit and conversation with Zuko he starts to fall for her, maybe even takes her on a date? Either way I hope you have a wonderful day!

thank you so much for requesting this and for reading rotations!! i really love this request :) 

---

(Y/N) had, quite literally, stumbled into the Jasmine Dragon Tea Shop one day. She hadn’t meant to; but there had been some traffic happening outside of the tea shop (something about cabbages? she couldn’t quite catch everything) and somehow she had gotten physically pushed into the establishment. Its attendees stared down at her and she instantly felt embarrassed and out of place. It was obvious that the kind of people who came here were government officials and wealthy aristocrat. (Y/N) was neither of those things. 

She stood quickly and turned on her foot to make her way out. “Wait!” A jolly voice called out to her. She turned to see an old man standing behind her, a menu in his hand and a big smile on his face. “Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon! Please, have a seat!” Before she could say no, the man guided her over to an empty table and practically forced her to sit down. “What kind of mood are you in today?” 

“Uh-”

“Perfect! I know just the tea to get.” He snatched the menu away from her hands and moved back into the kitchen to prepare her tea. (Y/N) felt a bit disoriented. She wasn’t quite sure what just happened, but she assumed now she would have to buy tea. 

The old man came back to the table with a kettle of tea and a teacup. “My name is Mushi,” he told her as he poured her tea. “I gave you Oolong tea today. You seem like an Oolong girl.” 

“I’ll drink any tea,” she said with a smile, taking the hot cup into her hands and sipping. It burned her tongue but the flavor was so nice that she didn’t care. “This is really good!” 

“Only the best at the Jasmine Dragon!” Mushi smiled. “What is your name?” 

“I’m (Y/N),” she said. “I’ve never seen this shop before. Are you new?” 

“We’ve been around for a few weeks,” A younger, dark haired boy cut in from the table across from her. He rubbed it clean and had his eyes trained very intensely on the table. 

“That’s my nephew, Lee. Not much of a talker.” 

“That’s okay. I’m sure I could talk enough for the both of us.” She finished her cup of tea and stood. “I should get going, but I’ll definitely be back. How much for the tea?” 

“First time is free,” Mushi said. “But it’s so good, you’ll keep coming back.” She giggled. 

“Bye, Mushi! It was very nice meeting you.” She hesitated at the door before calling out, “Bye, Lee!” 

(Y/N) returned the next day and asked Mushi to surprise her. Lee set down a kettle and teacup on her table. 

“It’s green tea.” He said, before turning to walk away. 

“Is it your favorite?” 

“No.” He walked away to help another customer. That was the extent of their conversation on that day. 

Every day, (Y/N) returned, and every day she tried to get the quiet boy with the scar to talk to her more. She didn’t know why, but she wanted to know him as more than the boy that served her tea sometimes. She thought that underneath all of that lack of emotion, he might have an interesting story to tell. 

Zuko did not like the girl that kept coming to the tea shop. And it wasn’t because she annoyed him, because she didn’t, or because she was rude, because she wasn’t. Zuko didn’t like her because he found her to be too easy to talk to. From the first day he met her, he wanted to share a cup of tea with her and blurt out his entire life story. That was incredibly dangerous, and therefore made her incredibly dangerous. He tried his best to brush her off, to make it obvious that he didn’t want to talk to her, but she kept coming back!

“You’re relentless,” Zuko said to her one day when she was the only one in the shop. She looked up from her teacup, surprised that he was actually initiating conversation for once. 

“Me?” She asked, looking around at the empty shop. “Are you talking to me?” 

“Is there anyone else here?” He winced. Maybe he had said that a bit too harshly.

To his surprise, she laughed. “Do you think you could take a break for a bit and sit with me? You could have some of my tea! It’s Jasmine today.” 

Zuko begrudgingly sat at her table. She poured him a cup and slid it over to him. “I think Jasmine is my favorite so far. It’s just so fragrant!” 

“It’s my favorite,” Zuko said as he sipped his tea. She smiled at him again. Why did she keep smiling? He didn’t think he had seen anyone smile as much as she did. 

“Thanks for sitting with me. I’ve been trying to get you to do it for weeks now.” 

“Why?” She shrugged. 

“I wanted to talk to you. So!” She leaned forward on her elbows, propping her chin up on her hand. “Tell me about you.” 

“Uh...what do you want to know?” 

“Only your deepest darkest secrets.” The surprised expression on his face made her giggle. “I’m kidding! How about...what’s your favorite color?” 

“Orange.” 

“Ooh, interesting! Why’s that?” 

“The fire lilies, in the Fire Nation. They’re orange.” He panicked, trying to come up with an excuse for why he had said what he did. “I’ve seen them in a lot of books.” 

She hummed in agreement, nodding. “I’ve seen Fire Lilies in books, too. I think I’d like to see them in person one day, if this war ever ends.” She looked at the clock on the wall. “Oh, shoot! I really have to go, I’m sorry!” She scrambled around in her coin purse to find the exact amount to pay for her tea. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. She smiled in thanks before leaving. 

They continued like that for a while. She would come in and, if Zuko wasn’t busy, he’d join her. He had learned a lot about her from their little meetings. Like how she was the oldest of five children. Her father was a bender who was off fighting in the war. She couldn’t bend, but she loved watching others do it. 

“I’d love to see a waterbender in action!” She had said one day. “I think it’s one of the most beautiful forms of bending. Don’t you?” 

Zuko shrugged. “I guess.” She continued talking about her family and her life within Ba Sing Se. Zuko didn’t say much during their conversations, but he preferred it that way. He loved hearing her speak. He didn’t think it was possible to enjoy someone else’s voice, but here he was, hanging onto every word that she said. 

“Would you like to come with me?” 

Zuko blinked. He had been so focused on hearing her voice that he hadn’t been listening for the past few seconds. “What?” 

“To the festival! It’ll be so fun. Please?” She stared at him, her eyes bright and shiny, and well, how could he say no to a face like that?

“Okay,” he said, standing to take another customer’s order. She blinked at him in surprise. 

“I wasn’t really expecting you to say yes.” 

“Do you not want me to go?” 

“Of course I do! Meet me in front of the shop tonight, okay?” Zuko didn’t respond, but she knew he would show. 

He hadn’t expected to actually have fun at the festival. It was full of people and vendors and dancing monkeys, but (Y/N) held his hand tightly as she weaved through the crowd. She had to lean in close to his ear to talk to him and the closeness of her voice made a chill go down his back. 

“They’ve got some of the best popcorn here! You have to try some!” 

They purchased their popcorn and sat on the ledge of the fountain, watching as the festival occurred around them. Lights had been strung up in celebration and earthbenders created clay molds of animals for children. (Y/N) dug a handful of popcorn out of the bag and offered it to Zuko. He took a piece and munched happily. 

“Do they have celebrations like this back where you’re from?” 

Zuko shrugged. “Sometimes, I think. It’s hard to remember them.” 

She nodded, taking another handful of popcorn and shoving it into her mouth. “You know, I don’t want you to feel pressured to tell me where you’re from. But, if it happens to be a place that rhymes with Smire Dation, I won’t be upset.” 

Zuko turned to stare at her. His eyes were wide with surprise. “You wouldn’t?” 

She shook her head. “No. I know that the nation doesn’t define the people.” 

“What gave me away?” 

“The comment on the fire lilies was pretty obvious.” 

“So you knew this whole time and you just kept it to yourself?” She nodded. 

“You and your uncle have a great thing going here. It’s not my business to ruin it and it doesn’t seem like you’re hurting anyone, except maybe Mrs. Fong but that’s just because she can’t wait for her tea to--” And then right at that moment, Zuko did something that surprised even himself. 

He kissed her. He knew he shouldn’t have, but he couldn’t help himself. He never thought that another person could be so kind. 

When they pulled back, (Y/N) smiled. “I liked that.” 

Zuko looked away and blushed. She grabbed his hand and laced her fingers between his. “More popcorn?” 

---

[personasintro]

My Tiny Secret |15; The Night We Met

𝑴𝒚 𝑻𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆 | 15; The Night We Met

⏤𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; Pretty face doesn’t make it up for an ugly personality. And Kim Seokjin is the perfect proof of that.

⏤𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: seokjin x reader

⏤𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: angst, smut, mistress au, unexpected pregnancy au

⏤𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: strong language

⏤> 𝒇𝒊𝒄 𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒙

buy me a coffee?♡

a/n: just a little heads up, this one is a flashback to the first time they met!

‘We’re highly sorry, but we found someone more suitable for the position you applied.

Our best regards, Choi Cooperatives’

“Highly sorry, my ass.” you grumble, irritably putting your phone back to the pockets of your jeans before Mr. Song could see you.

Ever since this morning, you’ve been anticipating a good news but it turns out your excitement wasn’t justified. You want nothing more than leave your current job. You liked it, at the beginning but now it feels it’s not something you’d like to do. Plus your boss has been an ass to you.

“Bad news?”

Deep, yet velvety voice resounds before you whip your head in its direction to be met with your colleague’s sympathetic look. Empty stained cups are in his hands before he puts them in the sink that’s next to you, his eyes still trailed on you.

“You could say so,” you mutter, obvious irritation laced in your tone as you want to cry out loud from frustration. “I didn’t get the job.”

He’s no new to your weekly disappointment of not getting a job you so desperately wanted and there’s nothing else you see in his eyes besides empathy and pity. It’s probably the worst combination ever because it only makes you feel more pathetic and sad.

“You’ll find something.”

The smile on his lips and words leaving them is the same every time he sees your desperate state, but you appreciate it nevertheless. Taehyung has always been friendly and communicative colleague who made your shifts more bearable.

You don’t verbally react, giving him a small smile in response of his kind words.

“Hey, there’s a man who asked for you,” he suddenly says, seeing as if he just remembered the purpose of coming here other than to put the cups away. “He’s sitting there.”

With furrowed brows, you watch the way he points towards the opposite side of the room. At first, you can’t make anyone who might be the right person who’s looking for you, but then your eyes catch the sight of a man in suit who awfully seems to be out of place in those kind of clothes.

“Him?”

“Do you know him?” he asks, eyes glued to a man who sips from the cup of coffee with eyes trailed in front of him.

Even from the distance, you can see the confidence and dominance in his posture which makes you even more confused what the hell is he doing here. You’ve no idea who this man is and there’s no way you’ve met before. You’d definitely remember him.

“No,” you answer, adjusting the black apron around your hips. “I’ll see what’s this about.”

With that, you’re slowly walking towards the table he’s sitting at, wondering what this man could possibly want from you. And as you’re nearing to him with each step you take, your breath hitches when you notice the weird intimidating aura around him. He’s beautiful. Probably the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid your eyes on and the fact he asked for you, just makes you nervous.

And when he looks up, his dark eyes glance up at you as he sits back against the chair with a slight curve to his lips. “Are you Y/L/N Y/N?” he asks you, his voice incredibly low and velvety, distancing all the sounds around you.

You’re standing in front of the table, glued to your spot with eyes widened. His suit looks even more expensive you’ve guessed and his thick jet black hair makes you jealous of its texture. You wonder if they feel as soft as they look, alongside of his plump red lips.

“Who are you?” you ask him instead, frown appearing on your brows again once you’re out of your sudden shock from his appearance.

You’re reminded that this man is a complete stranger to you whom suddenly asks for you.

“Sweetheart, I can’t tell you that unless you answer me.”

The pet name causes your skin irritably itch, alongside with his attitude and mystery behind his sudden visit.

Who does he think he is?

You don't budge, silently raising a brow at him in question but he only stares at you, not budging. Rolling your eyes at the stranger, you cross your arms over your chest and answer. “Yes, that's me.”

If you knew that man, you'd say he freaking smirked at that.

“Who are you?” you ask straight away, glaring when he chuckles at your persistent tone but it's only fair of you to ask that.

He's a complete stranger who knows your name and came here to visit you. Even through your attitude, he can see how unsure you are right now. Maybe even a pinch of fear is underneath that cold facade.

“My name's Kim Seokjin.” he tells you, leaning against the chair more comfortably.

Is that name supposed to tell you something? You've no fucking idea who Kim Seokjin is and it's clear on your face which is filled with confusion.

“Are you famous or something?”

“No.” he chuckles, shaking his head as if your question was actually funny.

“Then who are you?”

“Can you sit down, so we could talk about this?” he almost cuts you off, hand lavishly pointing to the opposite side of the table towards the empty chair.

You're about to dismiss him, but you find yourself sitting down and staring at the man instead. It's hard to say him no, does he realize it?

Opening your mouth, there are a tons of questions you want to ask him but he beats you to it, his low tone reaching your ears.

“I believe your father used to work for me. I need to find him.” he says casually, taking a small sip of the coffee that's in front of him.

He looks so at ease, business like, while you're the exact opposite of him. Your heart beats faster at the mention of your father, cracking at the thought of him as you can perfectly picture his face. It's been awhile since you've seen him and you're sure it was the last time you got to see him.

“I can't help you with that,” you tell him nonchalantly, trying not to show too many mentions in front of Seokjin – can you even call him that? He doesn't look too old to be called Mr. Kim'. “I don't know where he is.”

“Don't you have any idea where he might be?” he presses, his tone curious and eyes focused on your every word.

If a man like Seokjin is looking for him, you can't even imagine what your father got himself into. The last time you've heard about him having a job was at some company before he got fired. After that, you never heard about him, nor did you care. Your own mother can't bear the thought of him, that's why she moved out far away from your hometown.

Is your father in Seoul?

Mentally shaking your head at yourself, you decline any want of thinking and wondering about his whereabouts. He doesn't deserve that.

“No.” you simply answer, although your tone is awfully thick with hurt.

Whether he notices it or not, he surely hears the change in your voice but he doesn't point that out.

“Who are you? Are you some mob boss?”

This causes him to crack a full smile, a line of white teeth perking through his thick lips as his cheeks gets round from the sudden stretch of his perfect skin. He is really handsome, but he probably knows that.

“No.” you answer, a hint of amusement is present in his dark eyes as he glances at you.

He mentioned something about your father working for him. It means he is a boss, not exactly a mob boss as you predicted, and it catches your curiosity. He is looking for your missing father, which he surely is, because why would he travel here and spent the time trying to look for you, his daughter. It means he is missing. Although, you hate that man you can't help but ask.

“Is he in trouble?” you ask, looking up from your lap just to be met with a dark eyes already set on you.

“Not exactly.” he tells you, but something about his tone is off. You don't trust him, although he doesn't look like he's lying. But how would you know? You don't know this man.

“Then what is it? Why are you looking for him?”

He looks around, eyeing the customers that are enjoying coffee and surely have more enjoyable conversations than the two of you. He's debating, looking slightly skeptical even when his eyes meet yours. He stares at you, but you don't budge looking straight at him with hardened gaze. You could care less about your father, but you want to know what this is about. What if he brings you into his own troubles? You've no idea who your father became.

“If you really wanna know, I don't think this is a place to talk about it.” he decides to say, his tone dropping so it's out of everyone's reach.

“What are you proposing?”

“Give me your address and we can talk about it in some restaurant or something.”

“Is this your way of asking me on a date?” you frown, glaring at him.

“I don't date, sweetheart.”

Again, with the dumb pet name.

Rolling your eyes, you sigh contemplating whether you should trust this man. And he probably sees that, that's why he pulls out what looks like a business card, before he swipes it with his fingers across the table to hand it to you. You eye it, grabbing it into your own hands as you read it.

“You own a company?” you exclaim, coughing awkwardly when you feel stares from you.

He almost looks cocky at your shock and new discovery, enjoying your reaction with a smug glint in his eyes.

There is his, what you assume, personal number with his company name and his own, craved with pretty gold lettering. The whole card looks luxurious and suddenly his expensive suit and whole persona makes sense. He's the CEO of some good company.

“Send me your address on that phone number. I'll pick you up tomorrow and we can talk about it, if that's what you still want.”

He doesn't seem to be pushy, and it looks like he's pretty nonchalant about it. He doesn't care if you'll know about your father or not. But he can provide any information of what your father got himself into. Now that he knows you're no help to him, he could care less about you. Nevertheless, he still proposes a meeting and providing that information for you.

It makes sense he doesn't want to talk about it right now. Although, the coffee shop is huge, the tables are close to each other and there's not much privacy. You definitely don't want your regular customers to hear about your father and personal life.

Kim Seokjin seems to be trustworthy but you'll definitely google him later.

“Like the hell, I'll give you my address. We can meet here and then go to some restaurant.”

He chuckles at your reaction, finding it more than amusing because if he started to dig into your life, he could easily find out. Finding you wasn't that much of a big problem for him. But respecting your decision and privacy, he doesn't say anything and nods instead.

You stand up, dusting your apron just to avoid his alluring dark eyes but you're forced to look at him once you're done anyway.

“I'll see you tomorrow.” you tell him, snatching the business card just in case before you hide it in your pocket.

He smirks, not even nodding along to your words as he stares at your eyes only. What with those intense eyes? He's making you nervous which only leads you to squirm in your spot.

“I'm looking forward to it, sweetheart.” he muses with the same smirk that makes you annoyed but speechless at the same time.

It awfully seems like some sort of game to him, his reactions showing how happy he is to make you unsure and shy.

That's why you turn around with red cheeks, hearing his amused chuckle once again and you can't help but grit your teeth at that. So turning back around to face him, you look over your shoulder at him.

“I like steak and don't call me sweetheart, it's creepy.”

But the amusement doesn't go away like you hoped it would, he looks to be even more amused instead. But he doesn't provoke you, giving a final nod to you as he opens his mouth.

“Steak it is.”

taglist: <is in the comments> comment on the most recent chapter to be added to the taglist

[machine-gun-casie]

Almond Poppy Seed Muffins

you’re hired to help with the menu at colson’s new cafe and the lines of employer and employee quickly blur.

wc: 6k (!!!)

-

“Sit up, man.” Slim knocked Colson upside the head. “Menu person’s coming.”

Colson groaned and lifted his head off of the one table in the unopened cafe. “Tell me again why we booked this meeting for eight in the fucking morning.”

“Because it’s professional.” Slim whispered as the creak of the door echoed in the empty area. “Now sit the fuck up.”

You walked over with your shoulders back and your head held high, looking as professional as possible. Colson’s eyes were comically wide as he watched you approach the table. Your confidence was coming off in waves and Colson couldn’t help but be attracted to it.

Slim stood up. “Hi, you must be y/n.” He smiled at you and reached out to shake your hand. You smiled back and Colson immediately forgot he was hungover. 

“Yeah, I am. You’re the one who talked to me on the phone?” 

“That was me. I’m the manager. You can call me Slim.” Slim pulled back his hand and patted Colson on the shoulder. “This is Kel-”

“I’m Colson.” Colson shot up and shoved his hand in your direction. ”I’m the owner.”

“Thank you guys for calling me in.” You smiled at him this time and Colson almost fell back into his chair. 

“Thank you for coming. Let’s get started, shall we?” Slim said, sitting back down and both you and Colson followed. “We were hoping this could be a collaborative effort, because we want the menu to be unique to us and have some personal touches.” Colson looked at Slim with furrowed eyebrows, he’s never met this version of Slim before.

“Yes, of course. I’ve only got some basic items on my list, I wanted to sit down with you before we get into the trial phase. If there’s anything specific you wanted on the menu, or anything specific you don’t want, we can get that out of the way now.” You pulled out a tablet as you spoke, entering the password and opening your notes.

“There’s only a few items that we really want on the menu, but the rest is up to you.” Slim nodded as you took note of his words on your tablet. “What do you have so far?”

“I’ve got some basic avocado toast, bagels, and breakfast paninis.” You explained, showing them some pictures you had saved. “I’ve been to the surrounding cafes and seen the staples, but I wanted this place to have some unique staples of its own. So I added mini bacon tacos and almond poppy seed muffins.”

Colson’s eyes lit up. “Oh my god, I love almond poppy seed muffins! I was just going to tell you to add them to the menu.”

“No way, I love them too!” You beamed at him. “They’re so underrated. Everywhere I look for them, all I find is lemon poppy seed.”

Colson didn’t know how to respond, he just couldn’t believe he made you smile. Before the silence got awkward, Slim cleared his throat. “Bacon tacos? Are those tacos with bacon?”

“No, they’re bacon taco shells. Made them mini because full sized could get expensive in the long run.” You said, showing him a picture. “I’ve seen them online, but never in cafes and never here. Could definitely bring in some customers, everyone loves bacon.”

“Yeah, for sure. I don’t think I’ve seen those around here before. There’s also some things we need to have on the menu.” Slim said, looking over at Colson.

“Yeah, we need blueberry pancakes and cheese eggs.”

“And do you have any ideas for their names on the menu.” You asked, typing away.

“The pancakes are gonna be Casie’s Weekend Special, C-A-S-I-E. With whipped cream and berries on top.” You nodded and he continued. “And Champ’s Cheesy Eggs for the eggs. Oh, and we also got these special coffee beans coming in next month for a specific cold brew. I want it to be called Cold Brew but with the C-O-L in capital letters.”

“That’s just for it’s name on the menu, right? Because I don’t do coffee stuff.” You asked for clarification.

“Yeah, yeah for sure. I’m making that myself, no need to worry about it.” Colson said.

“Okay, good. Is that it?” You asked as you typed.

“We might add some more later, but you don’t need to worry about that right now.”

“Alright, I’ll start the trial phase this week. I’ll test out the recipes and all that. When I’ve polished everything off, we can do some taste testing.”

“How long do you think you’ll take to finish?” Slim asked.

“You should get a call in about a week or two.” 

Slim smiled and nodded. “Perfect, we’re set to open in a few months.”

“I’ll have enough time to train the staff before then.”

“Great, it’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine.” You pulled out two business cards and put them on the table, one in front of Slim and one in front of Colson. “This is my business card, in case you need to contact me.”

Colson could have sworn your gaze lingered on him for a second longer than it did on Slim. 

This was not a business card he was going to throw away. No way.

-

The buzzing of your phone pulled you away from your laptop. You were up all night researching and hearing the notification finally pulled you out of the rabbit hole.

It took a while to find your phone in all the blankets on your bed. But when you finally did, the notification that was on your lock screen was not something you were expecting.

Colson requested to follow you on Instagram. 

Woah. Unexpected. 

You opened your phone and accepted his request and followed him back.

- verified?

C- what can i say im a rockstar

- hahaha

- seriously tho, why?

C- u really dont know?

- nope. enlighten me

C- im a rapper

- no way! i work for a rapper now?

C- i guess you do haha

So your night that started off with researching recipes quickly turned into a night researching Machine Gun Kelly.

Song after song and interview after interview, you wondered how you spent your life not knowing of Machine Gun Kelly’s extensive career. You couldn’t say that you had never heard the name before, but this was way more than you expected.

-

Your Instagram seemed to pick up on your search history, so your explore page was only memes about your boss from the moment you googled his name.

You weren’t sure you could look him in the face the next time you saw him, something about two nines on his waist. 

(creds: @ticketstomydownfall​)

- how come you never told me your full name?

C- sorry it just never came up, i never meant to keep it from you

C- i hope you understand

- it’ll take me a while, but im hurt you didn't tell me

And so it began, every time you took a break from menu research you would send memes back and forth. You would send Colson cooking memes he wouldn’t get and he would send you musician memes you wouldn’t get. A healthy balance, you joked. 

But your favorites had to be the Machine Gun Kelly memes. 

-

A new cafe opened a few streets down from Colson’s unopened one, so he decided to check out the competition. He stood in line and read the menu. He perked up when he saw the place had poppy seed muffins in their display. It kind of worried him because he wanted them to be his cafe’s thing, but he wouldn’t mind having one right now.

“Hi! What can I get you, sir?”

“Can I get a cold brew and one of those muffins please?” Colson pointed at the basket of muffins.

“The poppy seed?” Colson nodded and the barista reached over and picked one up.

“Are those almond or lemon?”

“These are almond poppy seed muffins, they’re here for a limited time only. Don’t think we’ll have them back anytime soon.”

The barista put the muffin in a paper bag and instructed Colson to wait by the pick up area. As he waited, he pulled out his phone and sent you a picture of the muffin.

C- new place got almond! poppy seed muffins

C- for a limited time only tho, we in the clear

Ever since you started texting, you had told him not to expect any fast responses. Your sleep schedule was all over the place because you ‘work best at night’ is what you told him. The menu was coming up fast and you told Colson to expect some taste testing soon.

So when he got a response from you within seconds, he was confused. He wasn’t complaining, that’s for sure. It just wasn’t like you.

- look in the corner

He looked up and saw you in the corner looking right at him with your phone in your hands. You laughed when you made eye contact and beckoned him over. He pointed towards the barista and you nodded. 

As soon as his cold brew was in his hands, he dashed over to you. 

“Well, well, well.” Colson smirked, sitting down across from you. “I see you fixed your sleep schedule.”

“Kinda. Just for today.” You smiled. He didn’t know if you always smiled or if you always smiled around him. Colson liked to think it was the latter. “You checkin’ out the competition?”

“Yeah, so are you. What do you think of the muffins?” Colson asked.

“Mine are better.” You shrugged.

“Gotta try ‘em first before I agree.”

“In time.”

-

It had been two weeks since you saw Colson at the cafe. You ended up staying there for a few hours, time seemed to fly by with him. You gushed about the flourishing menu to him and he smiled and nodded. You knew his appreciation towards the topic wasn’t at your level, but he encouraged you to keep going. ‘I like hearing you talk’ were his exact words.

You were a blushing mess by the end of the night. Some insinuations were made and you could definitely tell that he was as into you as you were into him. And you were willing to tease the possibility.

- im not considered an assistant, am i?

C- you could be if you wanted

- i think assisting with the cafe could be considered an assisting position

C- id be inclined to agree

-

Colson needed to get away. He needed out right the fuck now.

He couldn’t bear staring at his bedroom ceiling any longer. The demons in his head were louder than ever and he needed an escape. 

Closing the door gently, he made sure not to make any loud noises so as to not wake anyone in the house. He got into his car and drove off. He had no clue where he was going, he just knew he was going.

He found himself parked in front of his cafe after a few minutes, not knowing how he got there or how he decided this was the place to escape to. He did have the keys on him. He could just head in, put together a couple of those tables that came in the other day and do something with his hands. Anything to get his mind to shut up for a little while.

The click of the keys turning in the lock sent a shiver up his spine. He made sure to lock the door behind him just in case. The thought of someone already being there never even crossed his mind.

Until he heard something from the back. The kitchen.

The kitchen was fully finished a week ago, decked with all kinds of high tech equipment. Worth a shit ton of money. Did Colson really just stumble into a robbery? Of his own fucking cafe?

He stomped over to the kitchen, fully prepared to beat someone up. 

So when he saw you dancing around in a flour covered tank top and shorts with music blasting in your headphones, he had to take a step back.

You screeched when you saw him at the door. “Holy fuck!” Colson laughed as you bent over and put a hand to your chest, taking your headphones out. “My heart just fucking dropped into my ass!”

“I thought you were a robber. I was ready to throw hands.” Colson said nonchalantly as he strode over to you.

“I thought you were going to murder me! What are you doing here? I could have sworn I locked the door.”

“You did.” Colson nodded.

“Shit, right.” You chuckled. “Owner, sorry I forgot.” You pointed at him.

“What are you doing here?”

“I asked first.” You shot back at him.

“Right, right.” He nodded and looked down. “Needed to get away. Found myself here.”

He hated the way your eyes softened at his words, he didn’t need pity or help or someone to fucking ask him if he ‘wants to talk it out’. But you didn’t say any of those things, and he really should have known. You were different.

“I told you. I work best at night. Slim gave me the key last week so I can utilize this amazing kitchen.” You motioned to the high tech equipment around you. “Muffins are almost done, actually.”

“Poppy seed?”

“Mhm, about six minutes left. But I got some pancakes right here, if you wanna try some?” You asked, picking up a plate stacked high with blueberry pancakes.

Colson nodded and took the plate out of your hands. You handed him a fork and he cut himself a bite. 

He brought it to his lips and paused, catching your hitched breath. “Don’t play with me! Just eat it!” You laughed, moving the fork into his mouth as he laughed at his stupid joke. His face was thoughtful as he chewed for a few moments. “Well?”

“It’s good.” He hummed. “Really good. But not better than Casie’s.”

“Doubt I can make it better than Casie’s when it’s her name on the menu.” You smiled. “She your girl?” 

The question slipped out before you could catch it. It was swirling around in your jealous head every time you saw the name in your notes. You weren’t exactly flirting with Colson these past few weeks, but if he had a girlfriend you would feel kind of guilty because you definitely caught feelings. 

Okay, you were definitely flirting. The whole assistant meme? For sure. And you were at least attracted to him. And with the way he has been looking at you, you knew he felt the same way.

“My daughter. It’s just me and her.” Colson smiled, knowing why you were asking and definitely not minding clearing that up for you. “She makes blueberry pancakes on the weekends for me. Best pancakes on the planet. Scratch that, in the fucking universe.”

“Aw shit, I can’t compete with that.” You chuckled. “Gotta try the best pancakes in the fucking universe some time.”

“For sure, I’ll bring her over when you finish up to try your stuff. Maybe you can take some pointers from her.”

“No offence to your daughter’s pancakes, but I think I’m good.” You chuckled. “This is my job and I’m damn good at it.”

“Alright, alright. No need to get feisty on me.” Colson laughed, putting his hands up in surrender. “My daughter’s pancakes will always be number one for me. You know how it is. She doesn’t know I’m putting her name on the menu, though.”

“Bet she’s gonna be so happy, I know I would be. I’ve always wanted my name on a menu.” 

Colson nodded and looked down at the counter that you were leaning against. Your phone, which was placed on the same counter, lit up with a notification that revealed your lock screen.

The notification wasn’t what caught Colson’s attention, the music that was playing did. “Are you- are you playing my music?”

“What?” You asked, your hand quickly darting to cover your phone. Colson laughed and pulled your hand away.

“No no no, I saw that.” He chuckled, grabbing the phone. “Loco? Not what I expected you to like, to be honest.”

You shrugged and pushed yourself away from the counter. “It’s got a good beat to whisk to.” You moved away from him and towards the oven and slipped on some mitts.

“The muffins are done? I didn’t hear a timer.”

“It’s all up here, pretty boy.” You smirked at him, tapping your finger against your temple. “If I leave them in any longer they’ll burn.” You explained, dropping the piping hot muffin tray onto the counter.

Colson’s hand slowly reached over to the tray, but you slapped it away before he could touch one. “Ay, they need to cool down! Still didn’t even finish them, man.” You huffed as you took off the oven mitts. You looked at him and saw him staring at you. “What?”

He just smiled his little cute ass smile and shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me. What is it? Do I have something on my face?” Your hand came up to wipe at your cheeks.

Colson held your wrist and pulled it away from your face. “No, you don’t have anything on your face. You just…”

“Just what?” You don’t know when you started whispering, but it felt like you had to. The moment, so fragile and intimate, you didn’t want to scare it away.

“You look really fucking cute right now.” Colson breathed out, his eyes not once leaving yours.

“You don’t just say that to a girl, Colson.”

“Who said I was just saying it?”

The moment lost its preciousness when Colson put his hand on the hot muffin tin. “Ah fuck!” He brought his hand up to his chest, cradling it.

“You’re so stupid, you know that?” You chuckled as you led him to the sink. “Come here, let me run some cold water on it.”

“Fuck me, I just ruined the moment, didn’t I?” He asked as he let you tend to his hand.

“A little, but you didn’t completely lose me.” You mused, teasing him. “I gotta put the glaze on the muffins, then you can have one.”

“There’s glaze!” He asked excitedly. “I fucking love the ones with the glaze on top.”

“I know.” You hummed, taking the bowl with the sugary glaze and spreading a little on each muffin. After you finished all of them, you went back to the first one you covered and popped it out of the tin. You held it up and brought it to Colson’s mouth. “Try it.”

He bit into and moaned almost sinfully at the flavor. That fucker knew what he was doing. 

“These are so fucking good.” Colson groaned.

“Damn right they are. You know how hard I worked on that recipe?” You exclaimed, proud the muffins came out as good as Colson made them seem to be.

“Really fuckin’ hard, I take it.” Colson replied. “Come here, you gotta taste it.”

Before you could take a bite out of the muffin, Colson put his finger under your chin and led your lips to his.

You pulled away a few seconds later, breaking the kiss. “You’re right, that tastes really fucking good.”

“You keep talking like that and I don’t think we’re gonna make it outta this place.” Colson smirked.

“The staff room’s got a couch.” 

-

(Elvgren Brunette Pin-Up Girl “Let's Eat Out”)

C- you last night

- excuse me?

C- what?

C- ur the sexy muffin girl

- how dare you?

- i would never burn my muffins

C- dude

C- im tryna flirt with you here

- well try harder

- 

Colson didn’t expect to walk into the cafe the next week with Slim and his daughter to see you wearing his shirt from that night. Casie was just excited to eat the food, so she didn’t notice. 

But Slim noticed. Colson coming home without a shirt wasn’t crazy. But you wearing said missing shirt? Yeah, he saw this coming. He smirked at Colson who tried to brush it off but his blushing cheeks betrayed him. Holy fuck, you had him blushing. What the fuck was he going to do with you?

You told them to sit tight while you brought out the plates. When you disappeared into the back, Colson mumbled something about going and helping you out.

“Nice shirt.” He smirked.

“Thanks, I got it from this guy.” You teased.

“This guy?” Colson raised his eyebrows at you as he picked up two plates.

“Yeah, tall lanky blonde dude. I don’t know if you know him, but he’s a rapper.” You smiled, expertly carrying four plates in your arms. “He’s verified on Instagram.”

Casie and Slim both watched with amused smirks on their faces as you and Colson walked out of the kitchen giggling. 

With you none the wiser, Colson mouthed ‘Shut up!’ at them. Slim snickered and Casie raised her hands up in surrender. You placed two small plates on each placemat, not aware of the conversation going on around you.

“First, we’ve got the mini bacon tacos.” You said, pointing at each plate. “The bacon shells are filled with a spinach and scrambled egg mixture with a few slices of fresh avocado.”

“Oh my god, dad! The tacos are made of bacon!” Casie exclaimed when she looked down at the plate. 

“Stop drooling and eat your food before I do.” Slim mumbled through a mouthful of bacon taco.

“Ay!” Casie shot Slim a look and used her hand as a shield against her taco. “Don’t you touch my food.”

“Then eat it!”

“I will, get off my back!”

“Hey!” Colson shouted, getting their attention. “No fighting in front of our guest!”

Slim and Casie looked up at you and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.” They apologized in unison and you fought hard to not let out a snort.

“It’s alright.” You giggled. “Do you like the tacos?”

Casie stuffed half the taco into her mouth and nodded. “Iss real goo’.”

Colson chuckled and wiped some avocado off his daughter’s face. “I think that’s the equivalent of three michelin stars.”

As everyone cleaned off their plates of all eggs and bacon, you remembered something you wanted to mention.

“Now, next are the blueberry pancakes. But before you guys dig in, Casie, I need to ask you something.” Casie perked up at your words. “Your dad told me that your pancakes are the best in the universe. And because this is his cafe, I would like it if he liked my pancakes too. So if you have any advice for me, I’m all ears.”

Casie looked between you and the pancakes for a moment. 

“I’m gonna guess that you don’t use the boxed stuff, right?” You nodded. “Alright, I’ve got one trick that I use. But you gotta promise not to tell anyone.”

You stuck out your pinky and nodded. “Pinky promise.”

“Pinky promise.” Casie looped her pinky with yours and smiled. “Y’all gotta shut your ears.” She said to Colson and Slim.

“But-”

“No buts!” She stopped Slim. “Shut your ears!” Casie watched her dad and uncle as they slowly covered their ears with their hands, confused and trying but failing to hold in their laughter.

“Alright, my trick is hazelnut milk. I use it instead of normal milk. Makes it kind of taste like Nutella, and Dad loves Nutella. And I add a teeny tiny bit of cardamom powder. The tiniest pinch. Made the recipe all by myself, so I better get credit.”

You smiled and made eye contact with her. “Trust me, you’re gonna get your credit.”

-

C- my jaw still hasn't recovered

- shouldn’t that be my line?

C- remind me to never show anyone our texts ever in life

- noted

C- are you free tomorrow?

- yeah why?

C- meet me at the cafe at noon

C- theres something i wanna show u and casie

-

You smiled when you saw Colson and Casie approaching the cafe. You had gone to the store so as to not arrive too early, but you still beat them by a few minutes.

“Hey.” Colson smiled. “You brought stuff?”

“Yeah, just a few secret ingredients.” You nodded, holding the canvas bag behind your back. “If I show you, I have to kill you.”

“Can I see?” Casie asked.

“Of course.” You scoffed and winked at her.

“Hey! How come she can see but I can’t?” Colson asked incredulously. 

You shrugged and giggled. “Why are we here, Colson?” You asked, changing the subject. 

“Something came in today.”

“The coffee beans?” You asked, hoping you’d get a taste of his COLd brew. Yes, you told him it was stupid. No, he wouldn’t budge.

“Nope, the chalkboard.” He waggled his eyebrows at you.

Your eyes lit up. “For the menu?”

“Yup.”

“Dad, can I help? Please, I wanna do the border.” Casie pleaded.

“Of course, special girl.” Colson nodded at her. “You gotta help bring it out, though.” 

“Let’s get the chalkboard!” Casie jumped up and tried to open the door.

Colson told her to hold on, the door wasn’t unlocked. He pulled out his keys and turned the lock, opening the door wide enough for Casie to run inside.

“It’s in the back.” Colson called after her.

She ran past you both to the staff room.

“She’s cute.” You chuckled once she was out of earshot.

Colson walked into the cafe with you and closed the door behind him. “Yeah, she got it from me.”

Before you had time to reply, a resounding crash came from the back.

“Casie!” You both dashed to the back to see if she got hurt.

“I’m fine!” She said once you both walked into the room. Casie was fine, but the long cardboard box she was pulling was no longer upwards but flat on the floor. “I think I broke it, though.” She winced.

Colson sighed and dragged his hand down his face. “Case…“

You smiled at Casie to calm her down. “It’s alright, as long as you’re not hurt.” You approached her and pulled her into a side hug and observed the fallen box. “Let’s see the damage out in the front, come on.”

The box was pulled out by all of you to the front where you opened it and pulled out the chalkboard. The chalkboard that was once one piece was now distinctly two pieces.

Casie sighed dejectedly. “I broke it bad.”

“No, no. This is definitely not bad.” You reassured her and looked over at Colson to back you up.

“Yeah, princess. This is not bad.” He said, not really knowing why it was great but only playing along with you as to not make his baby girl feel bad. “Why is this not bad?”

You laughed and kneeled down to fully pull out the two broken pieces out of the box. “We can make it look intentional. See, the crack is going diagonally down the middle. You can do the border around each piece. It would look really cool.”

“That would actually look really dope.” Colson said as he finally understood what you were getting at. “None of the other places have anything like this.”

“See? Told you.” You nodded. “What would you do without me, huh?”

“I have no clue.” Colson mumbled as he knelt down to sit next to you. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to hear it, but you sure did. “Alright, y’all can do the border. Leave the rest to me.”

“You sure?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at Colson. “It’s gonna take you a while.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. You have everything written down somewhere?”

You nodded and pulled out your phone from your pocket. You opened up your notes app and handed it to him. “This is my latest draft for the final menu. Do with it what you wish.”

And so you got to work. Every time you tried to peek at what Colson was writing, he’d push you away and say it was a surprise. So you stuck to what he assigned you. The border took you and Casie no time, even after adding some doodles here and there and signing the bottom right corner.

“Dad?” Casie perked up.

“Yeah?” Colson asked, still focused on his penmanship.

“You good to finish it up?”

“Yeah, why?”

“y/n and I need to go to the kitchen.”

“You do?”

“We do?”

“Yes.” Casie nodded at you. “We do.” 

“Oh!” You smiled, remembering the bag you had brought with you. “We do!”

“Mhm.” Casie smiled sweetly at her dad and hopped up and headed towards the kitchen. “Come on, y/n! No time to waste.”

You giggled at her antics and shrugged at Colson. “No time to waste, I guess.” You grabbed your bag full of ingredients and followed the little sassy child to the kitchen.

You placed the bag on the counter and smiled at her. “So, how many do you wanna make?”

“Not many.” She shrugged as she helped you take out the ingredients. “Just a few to try out the recipe.”

“Good idea.” You nodded. “I changed my original recipe a little bit, added your suggestions and a few more things. That cardamom powder is a great addition, by the way.”

“Thanks!” Casie beamed. “So you’re a chef, huh?”

“Not exactly.” You mused as you pulled out the bowls and measuring equipment. “If we had to get technical, I guess my job is a menu curator. I help people make menus for their cafes or restaurants.”

“But dad said you make really good food.” Casie pointed out as she measured some dry ingredients into a large bowl. “Did you learn it by yourself or did you go to school for it?”

“A little bit of both.” You paused to help her not spill the flour and continued. “I’ve been to a few culinary schools, but only the ones that you attend for a few months. But I’ve always loved cooking.”

“So this must be your dream job, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess it is. You wanna crack the eggs?” You asked and handed her the eggs when she nodded. “What’s your dream job?”

“I’m not really sure, I’m only eleven.” She shrugged and threw out the egg shells. “But I really like the music industry. So probably something in that. Maybe a producer or something. I’ve helped out Uncle Slim on some of my dad’s stuff and it was fun.”

“No way! That’s really cool. I know nothing about the music industry, if I’m being honest.” You confessed.

“Did you know about Dad’s music?” She asked. You paused for a moment, knowing this was coming. Casie wasn’t stupid, she knew something was going on between you and her dad. She wanted to make sure you were right for him. And she was definitely not going to beat around the bush to find out.

“Not when I first met him. But he followed me on Instagram and I asked why he was verified and he told me.” You said.

“Oh.” Casie said, pausing to think of what to say next. “Okay.”

You looked at her and furrowed your eyebrows. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” She nodded as she poured out the hazelnut milk into a measuring cup. “I like you, y/n. And I know my dad likes you, too. If he didn’t think you were a good person, then I wouldn’t even be here.”

Pushing the bowl closer to her so the milk wouldn’t go on the counter, you stayed silent so she could continue. “And I know you were wearing his shirt the other day, which means my dad really likes you. But you gotta know that being with my dad comes with stuff not everyone likes. I know you like me, which is obvious because I’m amazing.”

“Yes, of course.” You nodded semi-seriously, giggling with her.

“But there’s also his music and the whole public thing, which gets weird sometimes.” Casie’s eyebrows rose as she spoke, indicating that she’s seen enough to know what she was talking about. “They say things and they lie and they might drag your name through the mud. But some people forget that the things they say only last for a news cycle.”

“You are wise beyond your years, Ms. Casie Baker.” You pointed at her. “I think meeting you has been the best part of working for your dad.”

-

A week later, Colson called you back to meet at the cafe. After making the pancakes with Casie, Colson refused to show you the menu. He insisted it still needed more work and that neither of you could see it until it was properly set up behind the front counter.

Both you and Casie moaned and groaned, telling him a little peak wouldn’t hurt. But he held his ground.

Walking up to the cafe, you saw that Colson and Casie beat you this time around. Colson was sitting down as Casie jumped around him, begging him to remove the white sheet hiding the chalkboard on the wall.

“Hey guys.” You said as you opened the door.

“y/n!” Casie called, running up to you. “Thank god you’re finally here! He made me wait this whole time.”

You looked up at Colson who was shaking his head. “We’ve been here for eight minutes.” He chuckled.

“That’s a whole four hundred and eighty seconds!” 

“Ay, that was some nice quick math!” Colson cheered and held his hand up for a high five. 

Casie slapped his hand and walked over to the menu. “Alright, she’s here. Can we please see the menu now?” She pleaded.

Colson sighed and nodded. He positioned you and Casie to stand in front of the board and placed your hands on your eyes. 

“On three, open your eyes.” Colson instructed as he held onto the white fabric. “One, two…”

You and Casie waited for him to continue only to hear him snickering. “Dad!”

“Alright, alright.” You heard the fabric fall to the floor. “Three!”

You gasped when you finally laid eyes on the long awaited finished menu. Colson somehow made all you and Casie’s little doodles crisper and more vivid. The border around both the pieces had some additional patterns here and there, obviously courtesy of Colson. Your eyes scanned the names of the menu items quickly, most of them already known to you from your notes.

“Casie’s Weekend Special?” Casie asked after a moment of silence, looking up at her dad. “No way! Are those the pancakes?”

“Yeah, you like it?” Colson smiled.

She giggled and jumped up to hug Colson. “I love it!”

“I told you you’d get your credit.” You smirked at her.

She climbed off her dad and gasped. “You knew?”

You nodded and she attacked you with a hug too. You laughed as you almost toppled over from the sudden embrace.

You continued reading the menu when Casie climbed off of you. You chuckled at the ‘Bomb A$$ Bacon Tacos’ and at the ‘COLd Brew’. You smiled when you read ‘y/n’s ALMOND poppy seed muffins’.

Wait what.

“Colson…”

“You said you’ve always wanted your name on a menu. Besides, it’s your recipe.” Colson stumbled back as you attacked him in a hug this time.

You sighed against the skin of his neck and whispered a soft ‘thank you’. You pulled back and stood there for a bit, just looking at his piercing blue eyes. How can someone’s eyes be so blue?

“Oh my god! Just kiss her already!” Casie exclaimed.

“Woah! Where did that come from, little lady?” Colson turned to look at Casie without letting you go.

“You guys are making major goo goo eyes at each other. Just kiss! I’ll cover my eyes, don’t worry.” She said, placing her hand over her eyes.

“I mean, she’s kinda-”

You cut him off by placing your lips against his. Casie giggled as she peeked between her fingers. Colson furrowed his eyebrows and groaned his disapproval into the kiss, waving his free arm at his daughter. 

You giggled against Colson’s lips and pulled his waving arm back. You pulled away and reached out one arm around Casie and dragged her into the embrace. “Your dad is a real romantic, Casie.”

“Thanks, I taught him well.”

“Yeah, you really did.”

[storiesforallfandoms]

too good ~ tommy shelby; peaky blinders

word count: 1625

request?: yes

@pachuh​ “Hello, can i request a tommy shelby x wife reader or sister reader with all of the shelbys, whatever you prefer, in which the reader is extremely kind, caring, always smiles and helps everyone in the family and people keep telling tommy how is she with him/how is she part of the family and he gets mad or self conscious idk you take it from there🙃 thanks! Sorry if its so specific”

description: in which tommy’s wife is much different than he is, and it gets to his head

pairing: thomas shelby x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist

Tommy watched as his beautiful wife served drinks to her adoring customers. He couldn’t blame them, she was the most beautiful and sweetest woman in all of London. She always had a smile on her face, very little ever upset her. Not even the work of the Peaky Blinders. She was a beautiful woman with a heart of gold, and everyone could see that. There was no surprise that the nights she was bartending the Garrison was full of men who came just to see her smile.

For once, Tommy didn’t feel jealous of the way those men looked at her. At one point, he would’ve killed any man that even looked at his woman the way these men looked at her, but (Y/N) was different. She was true, loyal. She had love in her heart for one man, and he was lucky enough to be that man.

As if feeling his eyes on her, (Y/N) glanced at him across the pub. He smiled brightly and raised his glass to her. She smiled back and winked at him before getting back to work.

“Some woman you got there, Tommy,” commented a man as he sat across from Tommy. He was a regular at the bar recently, his name was Henry or something. Always managed to get (Y/N) laughing.

Okay, maybe Tommy was a little jealous.

“She’s one of a kind,” Tommy agreed, not even trying to hold back the glare he was giving Henry.

“I heard she was down helping the homeless Veterans or something today,” he continued. “Heart of gold, that one.”

Tommy just nodded, glaring over his glass as he took a swig. What did this slimy fucker want?

“Wonder what she sees in you, ay?” Henry questioned. “She’s the polar opposite of you and your family, after all. She actually has a heart, a good one too. She cares so much about everybody. What does a good woman like her see in an evil git like you?”

Tommy jumped up before he could stop himself and grabbed Henry’s collar, his fist raised to hit the man. Before he could swing, (Y/N) raced over to the two men and grabbed her husband’s raised fist.

“Okay you two, that’s enough!” she exclaimed. “Honey, let Henry go.”

Tommy was shaking in anger, but he couldn’t beat this shit out of this waste of space in front of his loving wife. Not when she was looking at him with those beautiful, innocent eyes that he loved so much.

He shoved Henry away, nearly knocking the man over. “Fuck off.”

Henry looked between Tommy and (Y/N), who was also giving him a disapproving look. He huffed at Tommy, fixing his collar before leaving. (Y/N) turned to Tommy, putting a hand on his arm. “Are you okay, love?”

“Fine,” Tommy responded coolly, shrugging her hand off of him. “I’ll see you at home.”

(Y/N) watched as her husband stomped out of the bar, confused and hurt by his tone. But she didn’t have time to go after him, she was the only barmaid currently working and she had plenty of customers waiting to be served. She sighed, putting back on her signature smile and continued on with work.

~~~~~~

(Y/N) arrived home late that night. All the lights in the house were off, except for the dim flickering light of a candle in the living room. When she entered, she saw her husband sitting on the couch with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other. Not his first glass, judging by the nearly empty bottle sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

Tommy didn’t even look up as (Y/N) entered. That’s how she knew something was really wrong. Even when Tommy was having a bad day, he always greeted (Y/N) with a kiss, on particularly hard days he’d just hug her without a word. He wasn’t even acknowledging her existence right now.

Ignoring the slight annoyance and frustration that was bubbling inside of her, (Y/N) crossed into the living room and picked up the bottle of whiskey to get rid of it. Suddenly, Tommy leaned forward and grabbed her wrist.

“Leave it, I want to finish it,” he half slurred. (Y/N) crinkled her nose in disgust at the smell of alcohol on his breath. She thought she’d be used to it from working at the Garrison for so long, but there was just something different about when Tommy reeked of alcohol.

“I think you’ve had enough, love,” (Y/N) told him in a gentle voice.

Tommy rolled his eyes, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “My loving wife thinking about what’s best for me as always.”

(Y/N) looked at him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Did I do something to offend you, Tommy?”

Tommy ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. “No, no, no, of course you didn’t. You could never do anything to offend me. You’re so bloody perfect, you could never offend anyone.”

Now (Y/N) was very confused. She sat down next to her husband on the couch. He looked away from her, not wanting her to see how he was feeling on his face.

“What happened at the pub earlier, Tommy?” she asked him. “I know this all has something to do with that, what did Henry say or do to make you so angry?”

Tommy didn’t want to think about that fuck face. Just hearing (Y/N) say his name made Tommy want to go looking for Henry and finish what he didn’t even get the chance to start back at the bar.

It wasn’t just how Henry looked at (Y/N) and how he spoke of her that made Tommy angry. It was the fact that Tommy knew that he was right. Everyone had said it to him his entire relationship with (Y/N). Even his Aunt Polly had made a comment about the juxtaposition between (Y/N) and Tommy.

“She’s such a sweet angel, Thomas. She’s the exact opposite of us, how did you trick her into joining this family?”

And Tommy knew that everyone who made those comments were right. (Y/N) was the sweetest person he had ever met. She was the polar opposite of Tommy. He didn’t even understand what (Y/N) saw in him. Every day he worried that she would finally realize she could do so much better than him, that she could find a man who was the same as her, and would leave Tommy.

(Y/N) took Tommy’s hand in hers, making him finally look at her. “Tommy, you can tell me what happened. I want to know what Henry said that made you this upset.”

Tommy sighed heavily. He had never told (Y/N) any of this before. But she deserved to know. It was wrong of him to revert back to his old ways of bottling everything up and trying to drown his sorrows in alcohol.

“He told me that you’re too good for me, called me an evil git and asked how a woman like you ended up with a man like me,” he finally said after a prolonged silence. “I’ve heard it a lot since we’ve gotten married, from many different people. Hearing it today, I just snapped. If you hadn’t intervened I probably would have beaten that fucker within an inch of his life, which would’ve just proven his point.”

(Y/N) looked at Tommy in shock. She couldn’t believe anyone would have the guts to say that to Thomas Shelby. Of course, long before they were wed, (Y/N) was well aware of who Thomas Shelby was, and who the Peaky Blinders were. That would intimidate anyone, but it didn’t intimidate her. She treated Tommy the way she treated everyone else, with a genuine smile on her face and an attitude that would make even the saddest dope smile. Tommy always said that’s what attracted him to her.

She cupped Tommy’s cheek in her hand, making him look at her. “You know that’s not true, right? There’s no way that I’m ‘too good’ for you, Tommy. What other people say about us, about our relationship, means nothing. All that matters is you and me, and I love you more than anything in this world and nothing will change that.”

Tommy pulled away from her, standing up and pacing around the room. “You don’t understand, (Y/N), I am a bad man. I’ve done bad things, things that you have even witnessed. You’re so much different than I am, you’re so good. You’re too good. You should be with someone who is good like you, not a bad man like me.”

(Y/N) quickly stood up and stopped Tommy, cupping his face with both hands and forcing him to look at her again. “Maybe I should be, but I don’t want to be with someone like me. I want to be with you, Thomas Shelby. You may think you’re bad, but I think you’re amazing. You’re smart, and you’re caring for your family, and you’re so protective over them as well. You do what you have to do to make money, I’ll never judge you for that. I don’t want to be with anyone else, I want you Tommy. Only you.”

A smile came across Tommy’s face. (Y/N) pulled his face closer and pressed her lips to his. Tommy relaxed into her kiss, holding her close to him and never wanting to let her go.

“I’ll fucking kill Henry if I see him at the pub tomorrow,” Tommy mumbled against her lips.

(Y/N) giggled and responded, “I’ll be sure to look the other way.”

[atinykidult]

The Wind in His Ears — Choi San

[angst w/fluff] [2221 words] — A prompt taken overboard, wherein San loses his heart but finds it again. Disbandment!au, be warned. No tws except for loneliness (and reference of sex, I guess)

[prompt] — Travel!au, strangers to lovers, “That was a very bad idea. 0/10 would not recommend.”

[dedication] — If you like soft or sexy stuff please check out @sanflowerseeds‘s works! They’re phenomenal (and written by an also phenomenal person!) I’m so sorry this took so long! I love you, Nanda, and hope you’re doing well!

[a/n] — This may be my worst fic ever, bc it has gone through so many directional changes. But it’s been a WIP so long, I just wanted it posted haha If you have time, please leave me some notes on what went wrong/right! Thank you for reading!

.

When Choi San hits his mid-thirties and feels his joints crackle a few decibels too loudly, he knows his body won’t take much more. So when their second round of contract negotiations roll around, his decision has already been made for him. 

But when Hongjoong delivers the official group stance, his heart still cracks.

.

And when they have their final performance, San’s the last one to cry.

Because his tears will last the longest.

.

The crack in his heart spreads into a veritable canyon in his world.

A scattering wind blows through that empty cavern, pulling Hongjoong to mentoring a new rookie group and Jongho to OST deals. But San gets to stand with Yeosang at his wedding; he grabs coffee with Wooyoung every other week, usually...

So San pretends he’s fine for six months.

After all… Mingi sends memes to the group chat all the time—

And Seonghwa makes sure to Facetime regularly—

San wanders the streets of Seoul, hands stuffed in his pockets, the loud wind in his ears for his only company. At home, whenever he stands up stiffly, there’s only him to laugh at his cracking joints. Well… he laughs at himself, to begin with. Then he doesn’t laugh.

One day, he’s wandering the streets again when he sees it. An ad for a travel agency.

There’s only wind in his ears as he considers it.

“A toast to San!” announces Hongjoong, voice forcibly cheerful. “Who’s going on a world tour!”

Eight glasses are lifted in the air; seven pairs of eyes look incredibly worried.

Someone wraps themselves around San as other voices chime in.

“San, fighting!”

“Let’s gooo!”

“World travel!” someone shouts in English.

San’s heart both heals and breaks again as he looks at his seven friends who dropped everything to wish him well.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he tells them wetly.

Maybe it’s Jongho’s knowing eyes that make him shed the first tear.

Maybe it’s how the others all know how much he’s hurting, and how utterly relieved San feels to be back with these seven other people.

No matter the reason, San cries at this moment, clinging to his former groupmates as they hug him goodbye. There’s promises to text, proclamations of staying up just for video chats. There’s also seven whispers of the same sentiment: I hope this can help you heal.

.

He meets you in a coffeeshop. Your coffeeshop, actually.

It’s his second visit, and for some reason, it’s one of his favorite places he’s found in his travels. Something about its atmosphere draws him in. The warmth. The way it has nooks where he can sit and people-watch. The way the food tastes nearly perfect every time. The way it’s so empty when he comes in for his breakfast.

The way it’s just a minute’s walk from his hotel.

Correction: It is his favorite establishment he’s found in his grand travel.

Truthfully...

The “grand travel” hasn’t been so grand. He’s jumped around the world a little, going wherever the wind blows, renting a room for however long the wind calms down. Leaving for the next city or town whenever it gets worse.

On good days, he can look around himself and feel his heart stir a little. Because he’s gotten to see some incredible things.

On bad days, he can feel the wind utterly drop. When it does, he’ll look around himself. He’ll wonder if he really wanted to see Canada that one time. Or if he just chose a country 12 hours different from Korea because maybe, just maybe, flipping his clock completely could flip his life around, too.

Today’s one of the better days, actually.

As he hands you his payment, you offer small talk.

Ask about his day.

He tells you he’s fine, that he could be much worse off, truly believing it. (But also believing he could be much better off, too.)

Something in your gaze seems to understand him.

“And how’s your day?” he offers, his pronunciation a little messy.

“It exists,” you reply. 

A mirror of him, at heart.

.

He comes into your coffeeshop the next day and knows it’s just going to be a daily thing until he leaves this city.

That one booth in the back left corner… It has good seats.

As he settles down with the same order he had gotten the last two days, he catches your eye. Smiles with his lips.

And something about that one thing makes him realize.

He hasn’t truly had anything like this in a while. The same food, three days in a row. Someone who’s met his eyes, three days in a row.

It’s another good day.

The howling wind grows just a little quieter.

.

“Two orders of today’s special and an einspänner?” you ask as he moves to the counter.

His eyebrows furrow. “Oh?”

“You’ve been here three days straight, exact same order,” you smile, “first customer of the day.”

“Ah.” He takes a moment to gather his words, unsure if this was accusatory or just observation. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I can—”

“No! It’s, ah, it’s nice. You’re always very pleasant, to me.” He recalls that first encounter, how you had seemed to understand the weight of his few words. “Are you a tourist? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before this week.”

“You could say so.”

“Any plans for today?”

The wind pushing him around never made plans.

“Not really,” he admits.

“Taking it as you go?”

“You could say so.” He notices how you look at him with a measuring look. One that makes him feel seen, and he hasn’t felt that way for a very long time. But it isn’t an unwelcome feeling. “Do you have any recommendations? On what to do? Things you like?”

You smile bittersweetly. “I have some ideas.”

“Can you tell me a few?” The words come out of San’s mouth without thinking.

At that moment, the door opens with a whoosh, and another customer steps in.

“Tell... tell you what,” you say. “I have an employee coming in in half an hour. If you would like the company, I can give you those suggestions over a second cup of coffee?”

Meeting your eyes, something in him feels like hiding. But something else in him leaps at the offer. “I’m a slow eater. So yes.”

You smile again, a little wider.

His lips, too, twitch upwards of their own volition.

That day, San makes an itinerary for the first time on his trip—and, maybe, a friend.

.

After a long day of hiking, San collapses on his hotel room bed and feels a stirring of optimism in his chest. The weariness in his bones almost feels familiar. He had collapsed like this many times after concerts or performances.

He stares at the ceiling, consciously wondering for the first time on this trip, if he’s ready to face the wind.

His eyes land on his suitcase.

His hands move to unpack it.

And the wind in his ears, again, gets a little quieter.

.

As he walked into your coffeeshop the next day, he asks you to sit with him from the get-go.

You peer into his eyes, spotting equal measures of hope and uncertainty, and immediately drop your paperwork. “Of course.”

His conversation is nice; his personality is nicer. (Possibly his skin is nicest, but that’s irrelevant.)

.

Your conversations continue, and by the tenth day, you’re sharing the thoughts that sometimes scare you. From your worries about disappointing everyone to wondering if your degrees even mattered... you spill it all out. He does the same.

Which is scary, because you’ve only known him for ten days. Seven, really.

Based on the way he’s ducking his head right now, his story hanging in the air sadly, he must feel similarly.

(He hasn’t told anyone about his story, his sad state, since he left Korea. He doesn’t share every detail, but he says enough that both he and the wind in his ears feel very shaken.)

Forty minutes later, he stands to leave, and you hear some joints crack.

“Maybe the chiropractor?”

His smile in response is remorseful.

You stand, too, and feel your neck crack a little.

“Maybe we both can go?”

And the smile is a little less sad.

.

You have known San for two weeks now, and today, he enters the shop much more confidently than usual. With a shy smile (but genuine, you realize), he shows you pictures of a lake you had directed him to. He had caught it on a good day. As he lets you scroll through the pictures, you find that someone must have taken his picture for him.

You want to say something meaningful as you study the way his skin has grown so golden in these two weeks. The way his smile reaches his eyes.

“You look nice here,” you say simply.

That shy smile turns larger.

.

You don’t know if this is a bad habit, dropping everything to share breakfast with San every morning. But, what did it hurt anything? After you asked your employees to come in early to cover for you, they agreed too quickly.

Because they are amazing humans, you think.

And because they are ridiculous humans, they smile knowingly at each other as either you or him look at the other for a moment too long.

And, because you both are pathetic, San and you never notice.

.

By the third week, you wonder why you haven’t exchanged phone numbers.

Naturally, then, you laugh and casually give him your number after he admits getting lost yesterday.

“I know you’re not a damsel in distress or anything, but next time… just call me if you get lost.”

He doesn’t mean to look at you so intently after that, but he does.

You don’t look away.

Swallowing, he wonders if you can see the lingering sadness he feels, the wind still throwing him off balance sometimes. The weight of knowing how worried his hyungs are for him, the fear that he had done something to his body when he was younger, so it was all his fault somehow...

But as your gaze slips to his lips for just a moment, he also wonders if you are seeing what thousands of fans had once seen. Something worthy.

When your gaze moves back to his eyes, and you start talking about nonsense, he knows: You could see it all, and more, even.

San feels something stir in his chest, something warmer and kinder and more enticing than the thrall of dancing to thousands of cheers. 

When he finally finds it in himself to say goodbye, he can’t help but ask. “Can I call you when I’m not lost, too?”

.

Three days after that, San wakes and feels an impossibly strong urge to sing. Just something bright and loud. Something hopeful.

He pictures your coffeeshop and your face.

And he feels himself smiling widely.

Opening his phone, his fingers type faster than the wind:

Heading your way in 10 :)

.

That weekend, you go drinking together.

You’re both tipsy, sitting in a bar booth with your sides pressed together, and everything comes to head.

You’re both tipsy and warm, filters long lost, when San pours out the rest of the story to you. The side of the story that the wind in his ears usually hid in white noise.

It’s a euphoric story with deafeningly beautiful highs, but also a heartbreaking one with devastatingly ugly lows. But as he pours out the joys of standing on stage, of the laughter-filled, starlit walks back to the dorms, you know it was worth it to him.

And you also come to know, he didn’t choose to quit.

He keeps pouring drinks; keeps pouring out his emotional, earnest soul.

Midway through the night, your dulled head has just enough awareness to realize you are in love with that soul.

And as you have to wave away another glass, you will always hold onto the magnificent moment when he admits: “But I don’t feel sad about any of it when I’m with you.”

.

The next day, you wake up at your place. San’s lying beside you.

“Morning,” he groans.

If your head and body didn’t hurt so much, that alone would have inspired you to restart last night’s activities. 

“Everything hurts,” you groan.

“Same.”

Your legs are slightly brushing each others, but your torsos aren’t touching. It makes you feel sad. Then something in you melts when he shifts his weight closer to you so they are.

“Are”—you yawn—”we going to that… ugh…. waterfall today?”

“Not after last night.” He buries his face against your hair.

“Yeah…” Your head throbs, and you groan again. “That was a very bad idea, 0/10 would not recommend.”

San makes an offended sound in the back of his throat. “The alcohol or the sex?”

Yawning again, you can barely reply. “You know which one.”

He kisses your head and yawns as well. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

“Soon.”

“Soon?”

“But... not right now.”

After yawning together, he chuckles against your hair. “Yeah, sleep... for now.”

.

As you both close your eyes again, San can only hear two things:

One, the steady rhythm of your breathing.

Two, the soft hum of your ceiling fan.

He falls asleep knowing:

There’s no wind.

.

[ateez taglist] — @seongghwaa​ @s1ardusk​ @yunwoo​​ @toffee-hwa​ @yunhowhoitiss​ @sippn-the-tae​ @yeocult​ @barsformars​ (thank you for your support! I love y’all so much!!! <3 <3 <3)

[dc41896]

Small Mishaps

Pairing: Chris EvansxBlack Reader

⚠️: All fluff💕

“Da-yee!”

Chris couldn’t help the smile tugging on the corners of his mouth as he heard the shouting of his newest nickname paired with little feet padding closer to his office.

“Yes bae-yee?” As if on cue, he turns to see the dangling plaits and toothy smile of his four year old, Kira, looking like the exact copy of him at that age and even displaying the same seemingly unending energy.

“Spa now?!,” she asks lightly tugging his hand to make him get out of his chair.

“Give me a second, let me make this last note,” he answers lifting her to sit on his lap. With a small huff, she wraps her arms around his neck making him chuckle from her cheek being pressed so closely against his. Ever since early this morning all she wanted to do was play her new game with him, but each time she asked he always said the same thing.

Later.

To anyone else, later might’ve been fine. However to a toddler, later was an unknown answer that just made her antsy as she looked at that ticking thing on the wall wondering when later would come.

“How long’s a second?”

“Well uh mathematically speaking, it’s much shorter than a minute.”

“Oh...what’s mat-tick-catly?” Head tilted back, his laugh echoes throughout the office and into the halls at his daughter’s attempt to repeat the challenging word.

“It’s just a big word for numbers,” he smiles kissing the top of her head. “Nothing you need to worry about until you get older and go to school. But hey guess what?”

“Hmm?!”

“I’m done, which means-,”

“Spa!!! Cmon da-yee you’re gonna look so pretty!,” she excitedly claps, leaping from his lap and pulling an amused Chris behind her.

———

“There, now no touch!,” Kira orders with a pointed finger making Chris hold up his hands in surrender as he chuckled.

“You got it.”

“And what’s going on here?” Back from your run with Dodger, you lean on the doorframe giggling as you take in the sight in front of you. Sat on the tile floor with one leg crossed over the other, white cream speckled with orange dots messily covered his forehead, nose, and cheeks while your daughter squat beside your nighttime bag rummaging through your products.

“Kira wanted to play spa, so I’m her customer.”

“Here you go,” she smiles handing him a single square of tissue paper.

“What’s this?”

“I think that’s your bill honey,” you quietly laugh as your daughter nods her head.

“Five monies please!”

“Kira, you’re gonna make your dear old dad pay? After all the fun we’ve had?” Rocking back and forth on her feet, her eyes roam around the room waiting for her requested payment and making Chris shake his head as he chuckles.

“I’ll give you cookies...”

Smile lighting up her face, she takes the piece of paper from his hands and instead gives it to you leaving you silent with mouth slightly agape. “Your turn mommy!”

“Let’s get this off of daddy’s face first then after I shower we can work on me,” you smile watching her reach for the silver handles of the facet before being placed on the counter by your husband. Slowly tip toeing to your phone, you return pressing record just in time to catch their cute exchange as your daughter dangles her feet back and forth.

“Now you look pretty forever and ever!”

“Forever and ever?! What magic did you use huh?,” he asks tickling her side. Zipping her lips, she shakes her head making her plaits wildly swing around.

“Nope, it’s a secret,” she giggles holding onto his hand and playing with the silver band on his finger.

The following morning, the Evans household started as usual these last couple months. Sunlight peaking through the curtains. Chris groaning as he begrudgingly gets up to use the bathroom leaving you lying in bed snuggling with the comforter until he would return taking its place. Taking over his side of the bed, you smiled to yourself waiting to hear his deep chuckle followed by the feeling of soft hands gently lifting your “sleeping” body and keeping you close to him while you both lied in comfortable silence.

Instead, you felt your arm being frantically shaken by your husband repeatedly beckoning you to wake up.

“Babe. Babe!”

“Hmm what’s wrong?,” you groggily ask rubbing your eyes to help you see clearer. Small red sploches dotting his face, you rise on your knees getting closer to his face making sure what you were seeing was in fact true. “What happened to your face?”

“I don’t know. I just noticed it when I went to the bathroom.”

“Does it itch?”

“A little. Do you think it was the mask?”

“Maybe, do you remember if she used anything else from my bag?” Shrugging his shoulders, there’s a momentary silence before his palm hits his forehead as he silently curses.

“Of course this happens on the day I’m supposed to talk with Jimmy Fallon.”

“Listen it’s okay, we’ll hopefully have you fixed before then. Just let me think of what could help.”

“Mommy! Da-yee!” As if on cue, Kira runs into your bedroom using the bench at the end of the bed to climb in and stand next to you. “Ooh I want face paint too!”

“It’s not face paint honey, daddy might’ve had a reaction to the mask from last night.”

“Reaction?,” she asks slightly tilting her head.

“Yea, like when you ate peaches that one day and your tongue was itchy and cheeks got puffy? That’s a reaction.”

“Ohh...I hurt da-yee?” Frowning with pouted lips, Chris picks her up smoothing the frizz from her hair as he kisses her temple.

“Noo no sweetie you didn’t hurt me. I promise I’m fine, my face just looks a little funny.”

“Mommy’s special tube didn’t work.”

“Special tube?,” you both inquire looking puzzled. Nodding her head, she nervously wrings her hands together afraid of your coming reactions.

“The white one.”

“Ohhh...”

“I’m guessing this white tube is what caused me to look like a Dalmatian with red spots?,” Chris asks slightly rocking Kira back and forth.

“Yea, it’s my acne gel. I call it my special tube because only I can use it sweetie,” you answer lightly rubbing her back.

“Ohh, sorry.”

“It’s okay, let’s not use it anymore though. Especially on daddy’s delicate skin.”

“Delicate?,” he asks raising an eyebrow in amusement making you laugh.

“Babe you even said so yourself that you have sensitive skin, don’t start,” you laugh stepping out of bed. “Now let me go get the rash cream.”

“Wait, rash cream?”

“You have a better idea?” Groaning as he rolls his eyes, Kira places her hands on either side of his beard before kissing his cheek.

“No worry da-yee, mommy can fix it.”

“I hope you’re right bae-yee,” he smiles blowing raspberries on her cheek making her wildly giggle.

———

“Okay first it was poor Dodger’s haircut now this?! What is going on in the Evan’s household during this quarantine?,” Jimmy asks trying to hide his laughter but failing.

Sat at the island in his kitchen, he chuckles to himself while shaking his head at his current predicament. Surprisingly the rash cream did help a bit, but the red spots were still evident on his face although a bit lighter in color.

Especially now currently being in the room with the best lighting.

“Well uh as you can see it’s been a bit eventful,” he laughs as he runs a hand through his brown locs. “Kira’s been watching her mom do her nighttime routine so now her favorite game to play is Spa. Long story short some things didn’t agree with my skin when we played yesterday.”

“Ohh noo,” he laughs covering his mouth with his hands. “Are you okay though? How did she react when she saw you?”

“Yea I’m fine. It was a bit itchy but now it’s starting to fade away, and at first she thought it was face paint, but after telling her what happened she felt bad because she thought she hurt me. So now she’s been checking on me and making sure I’m okay.”

“And speaking of, looks like she’s here to check on you now.” Turning around, he smiles seeing his little girl in her jean overalls raised on her tip toes trying to get a look at Chris. Waving her over, she nervously steps to her father before he sits her on his lap.

“Hi Kira! How are you?”

“Good,” she shyly replies playing with her braid.

You tried to keep her occupied during his time away with his interview, but your sneaky little one took advantage of your lapse of judgement when distracted by your phone. She said she was going to the bathroom and by the time you thought you should walk with her, you could hear feet scurrying down the hall towards the kitchen.

Catching the corner of his eye, you mouth “sorry” before he smiles mouthing back “it’s okay” and giving you a quick thumbs up.

“And how do you like being home with your parents this whole time?”

“I-I like it. We get to play a lot!,” she smiles making both men lightly chuckle.

“So your dad tells me you like to play a game called Spa. Is that something you’d want to do when you get older?” Nodding her head, she giggles looking up at her father as he kisses the top of her head.

“Well I already know you’ll do such a good job with your own spa one day from this video from a little birdie’s instagram.” As he plays the short clip of Chris and Kira talking in the bathroom while he washes off his mask, he meets your eyes shaking his head as you innocently shrug your shoulders as if you didn’t know anything.

“Hmm I wonder whose Instagram you got that from?”

“You know I can’t reveal my sources,” Jimmy laughs. “The adventures of being a girl dad though right?”

“Yea, and I wouldn’t change a thing about it,” Chris smiles holding onto his baby girl as she latches around his neck.

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @renfrewscorner @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @secretmysteriousperson @plokyu23

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only wants to be tagged for certain people I write for, or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

[revasserium]

bewildered madness with keiji

send me a number and a character, and i’ll write you a drabblerequests are currently: closed 

155. bewildered madness akaashi ; 1,921 words

a/n: in which akaashi is prince hans, and you are the snow queen ( aka the disneyxhaikyuu that no one asked for ) ; also my submission for hqcreation’s monthly prompt sweater weather 

he only catches a glimpse of you, through the cover of trees, the forest frozen around you by the unnatural permafrost -- the moonlight above shattering the quiet darkness below, splintering into glimmering shards of light, refracting off the snow-covered earth. 

he sighs. 

but there are things he must do, for the sake of his future — for the kingdom that is yet to be his. 

he hears you before he sees you, the melody haunting as his childhood dreams, crushed beneath the feet of those with the simple advantage of an earlier birth; he’d always thought that custom ludicrous and dated. he was ever bit the man (and more) than his older brothers — why shouldn’t he have a chance at the crown? 

he shivers, and sighs, and pulls his thick cloak ever tighter around his shoulders and thinks that no matter how beautiful your voice might sound, you’re still the key to a kingdom that might one day be his. and for that, he’s willing to do anything. 

“i don’t want to hurt you.” 

the first words he says to you. 

“i’m not who should be worried about getting hurt.” 

your first words to him. 

“fair, fair —” he laughs, an unexpected sound, a strange, warm thing that blossoms from him. 

and for a second, you almost believe he’s sincere. 

“what i mean is, i mean you no harm, physically or otherwise — i simply with to…” 

you raise an eyebrow, drawing yourself up, your dress woven of silver and broken dreams heavy around your shoulders, even if the material feels weightless. 

“talk?” you offer. 

akaashi grins, sheepishly. 

“in a sense.” 

you cast him an unaffected sort of glance. 

“you wish to ask for my sister’s hand in marriage. i declined. what else is there to talk about?” 

he licks his lips, taking a moment to square his shoulders. 

“then i should be so daring as to ask for your hand instead.” 

a chill runs down your spine. 

“what?” 

akaashi lowers himself to one knee, bending his head, a hand outstretched. 

“you want to marry me.” 

he lifts his head to look up at you, and there’s something so broken, so strange yet familiar in his gaze that you find yourself taking half a step forward, and then a full one. 

it takes you a moment to realize that it’s loneliness — 

a thing that’s kept you company your whole life, and in doing so, isolating you from everyone else. not by choice, perhaps, but maybe — you swallow and think — maybe be design. 

you lick your lips. 

“you know, if you’re after the kingdom, this is a terrible way to get to it.” 

akaashi remains kneeling. 

“i don’t think so.” 

you scoff. 

“by fleeing arendelle, i am forfeiting my right to the throne — my sister will be queen, and —” 

“but you are the queen by birthright, arenelle runs in your blood — she will always be yours, so long as you have the courage to take it.” 

“and if i don’t… have that courage, i mean.” 

akaashi smiles, a sweet, soft, gentle thing, as he lifts himself up from his knees and takes a step towards you. 

and perhaps there’s still an entire ocean of loss and hurt between the pair of you, but for a moment, just a moment, you allow yourself to fall into the possibility — the thought of marrying, of being queen, of living a normal life.

maybe, maybe, you’d even be happy. 

“then i shall wait with you here until you do.” 

it’s such a strange sentiment, to be offered company in loneliness. and you’ve been alone for so long, willfully or not, that there’d seemed no other option. and yet here he was, this prince from some faraway southern isle, offering you — not love, but companionship, in a way that isn’t burdened with familial relationship. 

“and… if i hurt you?” 

he opens his palms, and slowly, ever so slowly, takes off his gloves. 

“then i shall let you.” 

that night, he tells you about his childhood, of growing up with so many brothers his own parents couldn’t remember if everyone’s eaten. of dreaming of one day having some place to call his own, of scheming of a way to get there. 

“you know, you shouldn’t be telling me this. especially if you’re trying to steal my kingdom.” 

akaashi slates you a look. 

“steal it? no, no — i just want to belong to it.” 

(oh.) 

“oh.”

you look down at your hands, the instruments through which your powers flow. and a part of you, the deepest, darkest part of you, whispers that you understand. 

such a strange thing — the wish for belonging — so simple to say, and so thoughtless to people who have it, but to those who don’t.

“it’s like… moving mountains or shifting seas,” you say. 

akaashi’s smile is a dancing shadow on the planes of his face, and for the first time, you take the chance to really look at him, sitting cross-legged on the floor of this ice castle, built from spirit and resignation and years of pent-up loneliness — 

and you think that he’s quite handsome like this, all dark hair and bright, intelligent eyes. 

“both of which, need i remind you, my queen, you are capable of.” 

you bite your lip. 

he inches closer. 

“and you’ve been capable of it since long before you knew.” 

you smile. 

“it’s a curse.” 

he chuckles. 

“it’s a gift.” 

you give him a flat-lined look and he shrugs. 

“call it what you will, but it’s power. and where i come from, that’s worth something.” 

you curl your fingers into your palms and wrap your arms around your knees, bringing them into your chest. 

“are you cold?” 

you laugh, even as he removes his jacket. 

“i don’t know if you’ve noticed, but cold is kinda my thing,” you say, gesturing at the palace around the pair of you. 

akaashi shuffles closer on his knees, and then drapes his thick cloak over your shoulders. 

“i know, but… you still seemed… cold to me. there, better?” 

he shifts back to admire his handiwork, the thick woolen cloak now fastened tightly over your dress. 

you flush, for the first time, feeling heat creep up your cheeks as he sits back down across from you, closer than before. 

and then, a moment later. 

“you really think i could do it?” 

“do what?” 

“be the queen… learn to control — ” you wave a hand around the cavernous hall of the ice palace, “all this.” 

akaashi smiles. 

“yes. i know you can.” 

you peer at him. 

“how do you know?” 

“because i’ve seen greed up close — i’ve felt it in my heart, and for the longest time, i thought that was what drove me. but then… seeing you, witnessing your power for the first time — it was… humbling. and, i guess i just never thought i could feel that kind of awe, that kind of…” he blushes, the color tinting his already pale cheeks the color of a winter sunrise. 

“... wonder.” 

you feel yourself warming, from somewhere deep in the depths of your belly. like all those mornings when papa would make hot cocoa and momma would tell you and your sister stories of the creatures that lived in the woods — friendly creatures, some, and others, not so friendly. 

“but momma, why are some creatures not friendly?” you’d asked, once upon a winter’s morn. 

and she’s laughed and booped your nose and tugged a spoon handle out of your sister’s mouth with the patience only a mother could muster. 

“because, my darling girl, sometimes what’s good for you, isn’t always good for others. and so those creatures, the not so friendly ones, might not mean you any harm — it’s just that what’s good for them, be the exact opposite of what’s good for you.” 

you’d frowned, leaning into the warmth of your mother’s embrace as she rocked you over her lap. 

“what do you do then?” 

momma had let out a small sigh, and brushed a strand of hair from your eyes. 

“you try to understand them… and, you try to forgive.” 

akaashi reaches out to sweep a strand of hair from your cheek and you almost flinch back, but something inside you holds you to the spot. 

here are two creatures, you think, towards whom the rest of the world is unfriendly. 

not because it wants to hurt you, but simply because… 

“... what’s good for the world, isn’t necessarily good… for us…” 

“hm?” akaashi’s head lilts to one side, and for a second, you can see the boy in him, the boy that had been forced to grow up faster than his age because of his brothers, his father — everyone who’d ever told him no. you see the boy that had just wanted a place to belong to, to call his own. 

you offer him a smile, one that’s true and honest and just a little broken. 

“nothing… just remembering an old story my mom used to tell me and my sister.” 

“tell me,” he says. 

you lick your lips, you think of all the reasons you shouldn’t trust this prince, this prince who makes no effort in concealing his motives in coming to find you, who asked for your hand in marriage simply because he wants to be king — but who also offered you his coat, and is sitting with you in this frozen palace, listening to your stories. 

and this is the thing about falling in love — it comes from the unlikeliest of places. its springs from rocks and trees, from the budding leaves of spring, the dazzling blooms of summer, from the afire-trees of autumn, and sometimes — especially — from the frosted mornings of winter. 

it’s kind of madness, you decide, some time later, with akaashi’s hand in wrapped around your own, trying to find steadiness in the way your heart is hammering inside your chest — love is. it’s a madness from which some people never recover, but what beautiful madness it is, to be in love — to love and be loved back, and to know it. 

“do you love me?” you’d asked, one of those many frigid nights the pair of you had spent in that castle hidden in the mountains, dancing and singing, and sharing stories. 

akaashi had smiled, pressed his forehead to yours and said, “no, but i think i’m learning to.” 

and you’d laughed and said, “me too.” 

because if he’d said yes, you’d have known he was lying, and you prefer it this way anyways. 

honesty, always. between the pair of you. 

“why me?” you’d asked another night. 

and he’d said, without a single thread of doubt in his voice, “because you.” 

and that, you’d decided was all there is to that. 

now however, standing at the precipice of what you knew would be the rest of your life, looking down over the kingdom that has always been yours, you feel a coldness spreading through you. 

you shiver, and akaashi reaches out to wrap his arms around your shoulders. 

“cold?” he asks. 

you grin, “a bit.” 

he reaches out to tighten the cloak around your shoulders — his cloak. 

“there, better?” 

you laugh, nodding. 

“sure is.” 

you take a deep breath; he takes your hand. 

“do you love me?” you ask. 

akaashi nods, “yes.” 

he squeezes your hand, and you feel the warmth in your stomach blossom into something so very much like spring. 

“let’s go home,” you say. 

akaashi smiles, and it’s a beautiful thing. 

“yeah, let’s go… home.”

--- 

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[veenussposts]

⊰✩⊱ Pairing: FoxHybrid! Yunho x M. Reader x FoxHybrid! San

⊰✩⊱ Genre: Fluff | A little bit of angst

⊰✩⊱ Summary: Since you adopted Yunho and San, it has all been smiles. But, for the first time in three months, your hybrids have been behaving strangely and your hoodies have mysteriously begun to disappear.

⊰✩⊱ Word count: 1.300

Your eyes moved curiously around your closet, looking for a suitable outfit for that cool day but the only things that were there were your shirts and some pants. Without giving up, you opened the drawers in search of your hoodies and, again, the search flatly failed because you found nothing more and nothing less than your socks and underwear.

"I'm sure I washed my gray hoodie yesterday..." You said, choosing to wear a jacket.

With a raised eyebrow and attentive ears, you made your way slowly to the kitchen where your hybrids were talking to each other. Their voices were barely audible, only whispers and giggles came from their lips as you did your best to understand their conversation.

"I saw it first"

"But I grabbed it first, it's mine"

"No, you already have the black one"

Without waiting another second, you entered the kitchen as if you hadn't been paying attention to their conversation. Both hybrids were stunned as they watched you walk towards them. Yunho's large, pointy ears began to move from side to side without stopping as San's small ears twitched against his head. Both their hands were behind their bodies, moving from side to side trying to hide something.

"Hey, what are you hiding?" Your feet took one step forward but their feet took two steps back.

"Nothing" They said at the same time, trying to sound as normal as possible. San kept a smile on his face to make his actions more believable but the way his fluffy red tail wagged from side to side nervously didn't help much. "We were just playing"

"Can we go to our room? We are tired" Yunho asked looking into your eyes, wagging his tail against your leg in a friendly way.

"You don't have to ask me." Your fingers traveled quickly to their ears, one hand for each pair. You stroked their ears fondly before kissing each one on the forehead. "It's your room after all, you can do whatever you want"

Both gave you a big smile that calmed for a few seconds the concern of your heart and then ran at full speed towards their room, completely forgetting your presence.

From the first moment you saw them look through the large glass that separated the customers from the hybrids in their shelter, you knew that they would be special in your life. And they really were. In just three months San and Yunho had managed to melt your heart as a flame would melt an ice cube.

They were everything you needed and you were the person they had always been waiting for.

During three wonderful months you had learned a lot of things about hybrids, their way of expressing themselves and seeing humans. For three wonderful months you laughed, slept on the sofa, and even danced by their side. But all the happiness began to fade away little by little as the four month approached.

They had begun to act in a very strange way, considering how they had behaved towards you before. They whispered to each other and stopped talking when you were around, they wouldn't let you into their room, among other things. But most important of all, your clothes had started to disappear and you were 100% sure that they had something to do with it, it was impossible for your hoodies to disappear from the washing machine or your closet in a matter of hours.

"They don't like me...?" While you were sitting at the small table in your kitchen your brain did its best not to have bad thoughts about the situation but it was almost impossible.

They weren't happy with you? Were you a bad owner? They wanted to leave and return to the shelter? Your mind was full of those kinds of thoughts and you couldn't take it anymore.

You had to know what was happening, you wanted the best for them and you needed them to be honest with you in order to take care of them.

In a matter of seconds your legs had led you to the door of their room where a small sign with their names was written, next to it was a drawing of the fox of the Little Prince, and you couldn't help but smile when you saw it, remembering how excited they were when you let them decorate their door.

"Here we go." You took a deep breath, your hands gently touching the wood in front of you. On one side, Yunho's brown eyes were present as he opened the door slightly. "Can I pass?"

"No!" San screamed from within and you raised an eyebrow looking at Yunho.

"Guys, stop hiding things from me. I'm going to enter"

Your hands gently pushed the door for fear of hurting Yunho who was behind.

"That... I definitely wasn't expecting that."

The room looked normal, the walls were still the same color and the floor was still intact. The surprising thing was the bunk shared by both hybrids, or so you thought it was because you couldn't absolutely see their mattresses or sheets. Hanging on the lamp, going down to the top of the bunk where Yunho slept to wrap around the bottom were your hoodies. The hoodies you had been searching for so long were covering the entire bunk, looking like a fort.

"We-we can explain it" Yunho said with his head down, looking at the ground as San approached you, grabbing his tail with his hands to stop it from moving nervously.

"We didn't feel very good alone." San looked up for two seconds to look at you in the eyes but looked down when he saw your serious face. "We... we are not used to sleep in beds and even less in our own room"

Both of them were wearing hoodies of yours, your favorites to be exact. The hoodie that San wore was the largest you had, it was gray and covered his body up to his thighs while the hoodie that Yunho was wearing was an old one that your sister had given you for your birthday, it had a couple of holes but he didn't seem to mind for the way he clung to the sleeves.

"We-we were afraid that's why we did this"

"Did you make a fort with my hoodies because you were afraid?" You said without understanding very well.

"They had your scent and you ... and you make us feel safe so we thought it would be a good idea to cover our beds with them"

"Sorry, please don't punish us."

Silence invaded their room as you thought about their confession.

Both of their ears peeled off their heads and moved curious when they heard you giggle. Without time to think, you pounced on them and hugged them with all your might, falling on San's bed for the force of the impact.

"I could never punish or hurt you" you said, gently touching their flushed cheeks. "You have become a big part of my happiness and I would do whatever it takes to make you feel good here." When the soft hair of their ears made contact with your hands, both of them couldn't help but smile and close their eyes. "So... Do you want to sleep with me in my room? We can buy a bigger bed and new sheets tomorrow. Today I can sleep with you if you want and..."

"Yes!" Their tails began to move from side to side, San was so happy that he even began to move his hips at the same rate as his tail.

A great feeling of happiness invaded your body when you saw them so happy and content around you. The doubts you once had were far in the past as both hybrids huddled on either side of you. Your arms wrapped them with affection, their tails wrapped you and each one left a small kiss on the side of your neck, tickling you.

"Who wants pets in the tummy?"

"Me, me, me please"

"Me too"

And that's how you went to sleep that night, surrounded by all your hoodies strategically organized to form a fort while Yunho and San slept next to you with a smile on their lips.

[and-the-world-is-quiet-here]

Of stormy nights and sorrows

The night was dark and stormy. Of course all nights in Gotham were dark and stormy, but this one seemed to be particularly vengeful, pummeling the ground with strong whips of water, and throwing saplings like ragdolls. Causing chaos in homeless shelters as vagabonds scrambled for a place with walls and windows. The rain was so great that it had caused all the usual suspects to run for shelter, emptying the streets faster than black bats glare ever could - Cass was just a little jealous. But no crime meant no vigilantes, and dad would never put his kids out in a hurricane just to save some cats in trees. 

“But father, you can’t be serious! Rain should be no match for a warrior of my caliber!” Cass didn’t understand the words but she could feel the insult behind them. 

Jason started in too, desperate to get out of the manor “Yeah b we’ll be fine! You can’t keep us here anyway! I am a grown ass adult” 

Dad grunted, his standard response for any kind of disobedience. 

Turning his back to the 11 owlish eyes boring holes into his head, he went back to sorting the batarangs tutting as he did. 

Then there was silence, it was long and she didn’t like it. Too long, too quiet for too long, something bad was going to happen, she could tell. She shifted uneasily on her perch, preparing to move at the first sign of trouble. She did want another argument there had been to many already. 

It was oppressive. 

Quiet. Quiet. Quiet. Quiet. Quiet. Quiet. Quiet. Quiet. And oh! Steph finally broke, she had been expecting it (steph may as well have been screaming her intention) but the loud noise still startled her 

“Oh my god Bruce! Will you speak in sentences for once in your goddamn life!” 

Bruce-dad tensed unnoticeably and she watched him with a closer eye from her nest on the banister. He prepared himself as if to give a speech, but only managed to spit out “Its cold, and nobodys out there anyway. The last thing we need is one of you getting sick.” 

Silence, silence that stretched out miserably and then…. “I’m gonna go play among us, anyone want to join?” 

“Oh my god Duke read the room”  

“Oh shut up duke some of us are actually are actually used to not spending the night scaring the crap out of our neighbors and work 9-5 like a normal person” 

Huh she thought neighbor…neghibor…“Ne-i-gh-b-or” she mouthed the word, (And what a word), neighbor she concluded must mean criminal.

 In her distraction her siblings had disappeared and she shifted uneasily. She had let her walls down too far, and lost track of her family. That would need to be amended. 

Now, the two loneliest residents were left to brood in silence--plus one of course, when those two were alone it was always with a hidden plus one. 

Dad still leaned over the table, gripping it with both hands like his life depended on it. 

He was worried, that much was obvious to anyone, It was all over  his face. 

But Cass knew better than to take it at face value, she examined other parts too. Everyone relied on faces too much she thought, when they really didn’t tell you that much. It was better to look at muscle; muscle, skin, and bone, they tell you the whole story. 

He was worried, but it was more than that. He was….scared, his whole body screamed “PROTECT!” as if he had tooo…he had tooo… oh what was it he had to .. yes! He had to shield them! He had to shield them, his body yelled “PROTECT!” He stood like he was the last person between evil and family. 

What a silly thought! He didn’t need to worry, she would always stand between evil and family. 

“tt” 

Dad sighed, “Father while I understand your decision to preserve the health of your soldiers, it should go without being said that I will be joining you tonight” 

Dad’s nostrils flared, his arms tensed, and his feet shifted into a wider stance - a fighting stance. 

Oh no, bad, bad, bad, bad. Dad…no…Batman slammed the batarang on the table, and turned to Damian, 

“And why? Why is that Damian? Why do you constantly have to put yourself into danger just to prove your worth? You are not a soldier! You have never been a soldier! Your siblings are not soldiers!" Batman took a step forward pointing his finger towards Damian. 

“YOU are an angry CHILD and if I was anyone else, you would be in bed by now. But I don’t make you. I LET you be robin, because I thought it would be good for you, But maybe I shouldn’t have” 

Dad sighed and turned back to the table. The tension left his shoulders, and he slumped. He was more “SAD!” then angry, he was hurt and the “PROTECT!” crumbled into "Regret!", Cass looked the other way. 

Dad was calming down but Damian was just getting started, he let out an angry shriek. 

Flashes of a memory danced across his face, dimming his eyes,, setting his mouth, and furrowing his brow until he was a mirror of Dad,but one filled by “SAD!“ not “PROTECT!” “You underestimate me father, I am the heir to the dragon. I have already received more training then Brown ever will! I wield a sword better than Thomas can! Yet you insist on keeping these deadweights around despite their worthlessness!” 

 She inched closer, bad, this was bad, it was bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, ba-“SLAM!” 

Dad dropped the Batarang and whirled around, murder in his eyes. 

“No, no, you don’t get to speak about your siblings that way! You are not better than them! NO ONE is better than them! Stephanie could lift you over her head like you were nothing! Duke saves dozens of people everyday, no, you don’t get to speak about them that way. They earned their place here!” 

Damian was scared now. He curled in on himself, radiating sadness. 

“Get out!” Dad grit out in the silence 

“GET OUT NOW!” 

then the sound of fleeting footstep and a depressed sigh. 

She came out of the shadows, she had hid long enough. She let her feet touch the ground just long enough to let it be known that she was there and left, leaving a whisper of a touch on the shoulders of her father, and a simple string of signs pressed into her fathers back 

“Not mad at little brother, mad at the people who made him that way.” A sorrow comfort but a comfort nonetheless.

She bade her time and lied in wait, it would be no use to comfort him now when he was still upset. So instead she made use of her freedom, wandering the halls in search of her siblings, changing day clothes into pajamas, tinkering and going through her positions. 

When at last she deemed it time, she made her way over to the vent. It lifted easily off the wall, the screws that held it there having long since been removed. Even easier though, was climbing into it, the vents were from the original part of the manor-meaning they were huge and someone as small as Cass had no trouble fitting in them. What was a struggle though, was stealth, she found after many tries that walking on the palms of her hands worked best. So that was how Cass moved, arriving steadily in a vertical shaft that required only 2 quick bounds to clear. 

She landed elegantly as all ways, and nearly looked to Cain for approval before she remembered that she was not there, that she was safe. Well, as safe as you can be perched precariously on a loose rafter in a 300 year old attic. 

Quietly, she padded along and picked up the sniveling mess that was Damian and made her way back to sanctuary. He would sleep through it, she had made sure of it, a journey through the vents would be bumpy and she was sure he would not want to be seen in the hallway like this. 

Cass dumped him in the middle of her rug and returned back to her tinkering waiting for him to awaken. 

It took twenty minutes for him to stir, and in the meantime she was treated to the sounds of war and horror sprouting from the mouth of a child. 

When he finally did wake up, he was angry. “Where the hell am I Cain?” 

He looked around bewilderedly before considering her; she knew he was afraid of her. She was the only fighter he had ever been taught to respect “the one who was all” A myth, a monster, a begrudged ally, but not a sister, never a sister. This was yet another thing she had to fix.<br />

She becond him forward with her hand, keeping her eyes carefully on her working hands. He approached cautiously and sat

“Cain” 

“little brother”

“I am not your brother" 

“and I am not a Cain” it was a stalemate neither would relent so she switched topics 

“Come help” 

“And why would I? I owe you nothing.” she paused 

“Because you are tired, but you will fight sleep. Come little brother, help”

 “tt fine” 

He scooted closer, sitting barley a foot away from her now. For the first time, he looked at the diorama, and she, him. The display was sprawling, an exact replica of Wayne manor and its grounds, scaled down to size. It was placed on a low custom fit dining table, one barley the height of a Japanese tea table (similar to one Cass could remember from her childhood). The house wasn’t finished of course, that would be no fun if it was finished; and while some would say it was “good enough” (like Babs when she wanted Cass to spend her time reading or writing) she would not compromise, it had to be perfect. 

“What would you like to build little brother” Damian paused and she saw fear flash across his face. Ahh so decisions scared him, she could work with that 

“How about we do the menagerie”  

“why?” 

“Its not done and you know it best” Damian scrunched his brown frustrated at not being understood 

“No why come and get me? Why build this? And if you care for it so much why let me help you?” 

She turned to him, in her stupor she had neglected to look at him and she cursed herself for it. She stumbled, she had to do something, but she was lost at what to do, he needed words, she had none of those. He needed signs, she had many but it felt like not enough. So instead she settled for a hug and found she herself satisfied with it 

“I love my little brother even if he does not love me, I am hurt and he is hurting so we will hurt together.” She paused and took a steadying silent breath, closing her eyes, and retreating back into herself. 

“I came here, and the world was big and loud. Too much too quickly. I was expected to talk to understand the way they communicate. Their language. But no one tried to understand mine. I know bodies not words. You came here and you knew words, but you did not know bodies. No one acknowledged that. You struggle, you have no Babs, so I will be your Babs.” 

They were crying now. His body was racked with sobs, and he was taking deep shuddering breaths, giving in he fell into another hug, crying loudly into her shoulder. 

He cried for his mother, he cried for the sister and cousin he lost, he cried for the pain he caused his new family, the hatred they felt towards him, and the pain he felt, most of all he cried for the world he had lost and his place in it. 

When he finally stopped, he was empty, a husk of the great Al Ghul heir remained, sniveling in the arms of a bastard child. He had been fractured, chipped away at every day, until even the pieces he held most dear fell away leaving a sad small child. 

Finally she broke the silence holding his face in between his hands “When my world was too big, I made it small, and that way my monsters seemed smaller. They all have ways of dealing with their monsters, they lock them in caves and they lock them in their hearts. It doesn’t work. Don’t do it. Little brother, we must instead find a way to make your world small”

[literatehiss]

Feline Feelings

Read on AO3 here “Jon you know how to look after him, but here are the numbers for his vet if anything goes wrong. Don’t feed him too many treats. I know you can’t resist when he starts crying but he’s a master manipulator. If you’ve fed him enough then he isn’t hungry he’s just greedy”

“Yes Georgie, I know, I know. Martin is keeping hold of the treats. Enjoy your holiday”

“We will.” And with that, Georgie walked out of the flat, leaving a sadly mewing Admiral in Jon’s arms. Martin heaved the bag of cat food into the little cupboard by the front door, turning to see Jon’s absolutely besotted look as the love of his life stared down at the Admiral.

Martin had not had the opportunity to see Jon with the Admiral, or any cat really, much before. He’s heard tales from Melanie that all of Jon’s prickly nature vanished in the presence of the Admiral and it was even better to watch than he had expected. Jon slid down the wall, cradling the Admiral between his legs, arms wrapped around him, scratching under the Maine Coon's chin. The cat in question was purring like an engine in Jon’s arms, apparently perfectly content to be snuggled.

Was Jon like this with all cats or was it just the Admiral? This was something Martin might need to do a little experiment with, once the Admiral was gone. He looked so relaxed, all the tense anxiety melting from his as he pressed kisses to the Admiral’s forehead until the cat reached out a paw to his mouth, claws extending slightly to press into his lips. Jon pressed another kiss to the pad of the Admiral’s paw before opening his arms. The Admiral sat and purred for a few seconds before jumping out of his lap to explore his new domain.

Jon winced as he rose from his crouch, taking Martin’s hand gratefully as he stood up.

What then proceeded, was the best week of Martin’s life so far.

He kind of expected Jon to be the sort of guy to baby talk cats and he was prepared for that to be unbearably cute. He was wrong. Jon talked to Admiral in the exact same tone he spoke to Martin and it was easily the most entertaining and endearing thing Martin had ever seen. His same calm deep voice as usual talking to the Admiral as if the large cat could understand hi-

Could Jon understand cats? Could they understand him?

He was sure this calm speaking to the Admiral was nothing new, but the thought that Jon was hearing a response to his affectionate talk had Martin moving to the kitchen so he could crack up with laughter in private.

Martin was vaguely aware that Jon had known the Admiral from before his brief stay with Georgie, but the cat looked so comfortable, so at peace in his arms, that he had to ask.

“So, uh, when did Georgie first get him” he said, taking advantage of the Admiral’s upturned tummy to give him a scratch.

“Oh, I think it was about a year before we broke up. He was only a week or so old, Georgie found him in the street. He’s always been a good boy.” This last line was still spoken in Jon’s usual tone but it was clearly directed down at the cat.

“Um, you know how you understand all languages? Can you… um-”

“Yes Martin, I can understand the Admiral.”

“Oh, what… what does he say? Is it like, full sentences or…?”

“A little of column A a little of column B. Its mostly images and feelings with certain words and phrases thrown in. He doesn’t really know names, he associates people with smells and sensations rather than words but well, he knows the words for food and play and hug and love, as well as a few others. You should hear him when Georgie steps into the room after being out for a while. Its just ‘love love love’ on repeat. But yes he’s fairly easy to understand.”

“I’m curious, what am I?”

Jon turned to the Admiral and asked politely, “Admiral, what do you think of Martin? Oh?” He looked back up at Martin, “You are the sensation of wool and fog, you used to be wool and tea but that uh, changed. What do you think of me Admiral?” Jon laughed as the Admiral let out a little mew. “Ok, that’s a lot of love, but what about in general? Oh? Apparently I am, hmm how to put it in words. Warm and quiet and static.” Martin smiled, affection curling at the corners of his mouth.

“I think that suits you very well.”

Eventually the Admiral had to go home. Melanie and Georgie came back from their honeymoon, tanned and flush with happiness. The Admiral let out a particularly upset cry as he was led out of the apartment, a sound that made Jon clutch at the sleeve of Martin’s jumper.

The flat was quieter without their furry housemate. Martin had never worried about Jon when he went out to work before, secure in the knowledge that he was safe and no doubt reading quietly to himself, but now that he had seen how happy and lively he could be, Martin had an idea that he needed to test out first.

Jon had never been to the cafe Martin was leading him too, and was perplexed by the double doors. Martin couldn’t help his grin as they stepped inside. Jon pulled on his sleeve until he leant down, pressing a kiss to his cheek. They sat down, ordered their food and Martin slipped his phone out of his pocket as the first of the cats strode up to Jon.

It turned out that it wasn’t just that Jon loved the cats, they were clearly enamoured with him too. They were lucky there weren’t any other customers who could get upset or confused as every single cat in the room started to approach Jon, curling between his ankles and leaping up onto his lap. A greying tabby jumped down from his pedestal next to Jon’s head and began to groom his messy hair. A few staff members peeked out to see a man speaking calmly and quietly, as serious as if they were having a business meeting, to the cats that were crowding around him.

Martin paid for another hour. He had to physically pull Jon away after that.

And well, that settled it.

It was a fine enough day in July, the sun shone overhead and Jon was bouncing in the car seat slightly, a habit that made Martin’s heart hurt with how much he loved his silly boyfriend. They had pulled up to the rescue place and Martin held Jon’s hand as they walked in. He hadn’t told Jon where they were going exactly but Jon had seen the cat carrier in the back of the car and he was an avatar of the god of knowing too much, Martin knew he wouldn’t exactly be able to keep it a secret for long. An older woman opened the plastic door that led to the small hallway to a chorus of meows. Martin stood back as he watched Jon press his fingers gently to the air gap on one of the windows, visibly melting when the cat inside came up to sniff, its nose just about brushing his fingers.

Martin had never been so in love as he watched Jon go to each and every window in the room, greeting each of the cats in turn. He knew that if he didn’t get Jon back on task he was never going to leave.

“So which ones are calling to you the most Jon?” his wonderful boyfriend turned to look at him, eyes wide and pupil’s blown in a similar manner to the way the Admiral’s had done when he had become over excited.

“All of them.”

“The flat isn’t that big” Jon actually looked like he might cry, “You know, they need socialisers here, people to come and play with the cats. We could ask the lady at the front desk about it, but for now, you’re gonna have to pick one to take home.”

Jon did another round, talking to each of the cats and letting them sniff the tips of his fingers. One kitten who had been climbing up the side of the window slipped back down with a sad mew and Martin watched in real time as Jon’s heart broke. That little kitten had only it’s mother in the same room as it.

Jon turned to look at him.

“One cat Jon.”

Jon continued looking at him.

“But the mother will never get adopted at her age Martin.”

Martin couldn’t bare the sad look in Jon’s eyes and really, they had the room for two he was just trying to curb Jon’s wish for feline company.

He sighed.

“Fine, we will have to see if they have another carrier though.”

“They do, I asked one of the assistants.” Martin gave Jon an unimpressed look.

The paperwork was signed quickly enough and the cats were corralled into their carriers. Back at the flat, Jon carefully released them into the living room and watched like a devoted parent as the newly named “Major” and “Lieutenant” began to explore the room. He turned to Martin, eyes bright and shining.

“Thank you Martin, you didn’t have to do this”

“Don’t be silly Jon, they make you happy. I would do anything to make you as happy as you have been today”

Jon looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky as he pulled him down into a kiss.

Jon, sees many many cats: Silly Time Mode activated

[thepancakeboi]

115. “You’re the perfect combination of sexy and cute.”

“Hey, let’s have some fun!”

I’m immediately skeptical of Ren’s random suggestion as we’re hanging out in his room. “Fun...?” I ask slowly. Ren’s idea of what is considered “fun” can be vastly different on occasion.

This is one of those times. “Remember when I offered to dress you up again after what happened at the cafe?”

I remember. It’s hard to forget when he constantly mentions it as if he’s proud of that moment. “I was under the impression that you were joking.”

“I wasn’t. Will you let me?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this. Sure. Let’s see what you have first.”

“Yes!” he says, pumping his fist for his success. “Come on.”

He takes my wrist and leads me to the other side of his room where he keeps...a myriad of items. To be honest, it’s an absolute mess. He pushes aside a couple of tables and a stack of boxes, leaning the ladder against a different shelf. Weaving his way through the clutter, he reaches a clothing rack and starts sifting through the outfits. “You’re almost as bad as Ann,” I comment.

Ren looks at me curiously. “Almost?”

“At least you don’t have a closet completely filled with disregarded clothing items.”

“Oh, she told you about that?”

“Told me? She showed me it a couple of days ago. I’m surprised it stays closed.”

“Yeah.” He turns back to the clothes rack almost as if he’s embarrassed. “It didn’t when I was there.”

“You tried to open the closet.”

“I was curious, okay?”

“She agreed when I said you probably deserved being buried in a heap of clothes.”

That gets a chuckle out of him as he rubs the back of his head. “I’m just happy you two are getting along.”

“She’s...surprisingly accepting of me. It’s a mistake to so easily accept someone li-”

“Hey, how about this?” Ren interrupts before I can continue with my self-deprecation. He’s not being rude. Recently, he���s been trying to distract me from the negative thoughts by drawing my attention to something different. It works sometimes. In his hands is one of his Shujin uniforms. “We could pretend to be high school sweethearts.”

I don’t think it would look good on me, I think but don’t say aloud. Instead, I reply, “We should keep looking.”

Ren pushes through another few outfits before pulling out another. “Maybe this?”

I stare at what looks to be a near-exact replica of his thief outfit. “Where the hell did you get that?”

“I got it custom made.”

“Let’s not do that one. You’ve already seen me in that outfit, anyway,” I add, remembering the day when he had gotten me to wear his jacket in Mementos.

“Fine. Okay, this one,” he says, pulling out what looks like a fancy suit.

“Oh?”

“It’s a butler suit! Do you wanna give it a try?”

I think for a bit before responding. “Hmm...I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” I take the outfit from a giddy Ren, following him out of the clutter. He looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to start changing. Of course. “Ren, turn around so I can change.”

“Goro, we’ve seen each other naked before.”

“That’s not the point.” I can feel my face getting hot as that day in the bathhouse comes to mind. “I would prefer you waiting to see the final result.”

“Aww, but-” “No buts. Either you turn around or I’m not doing this at all.”

“Fine,” he says with a slight pout. He reluctantly turns around. Once I’m sure he won’t sneak a peek, I change into the outfit. I wait a few seconds after I’ve changed simply out of spite before asking, “How do I look?”

Ren’s grin widens as he turns around to see me. “You should wear it more often. You’re the perfect combination of sexy and cute.”

“I’m not cute,” I protest, but my sudden blushing isn’t helping.

“Yes, you are!”

I roll my eyes in frustration. He’s always able to get me flustered, but he somehow remains calm despite whatever flirting I throw at him. An idea comes to mind, and for once, I act on it. “You know,” I start, “if you were a woman, I would be calling you a lady.”

Ren looks dubious. “Goro, of the two of u-”

“But in this case,” I interrupt, refusing to let him stop me now, “is it better to say...Master?”

Ren clearly did not anticipate this turn in the conversation. His mouth hangs open a little as he tries to process what I just said. The blush that blooms on his face is such a rare occurrence, and it’s one I commit to memory. I want to indulge in it for as long as I can. With a little smirk, I ask, “Is something wrong, Master?”

“U-Um...no. Nothing’s wrong,” he replies after a few seconds of silence.

“Are you sure? You look rather...flustered.”

“Me, flustered? Goro, who do you think I am?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re my master.” Teasing him is becoming enjoyable. I have no idea where this is coming from, but I’ll gladly take it if it means I get to see Ren like this. “Did I surprise you? You really do seem to be flustered.”

“I’m not flustered.”

He’s regaining his composure. I have to put a stop to that. “Of course not, Master~,” I ‘agree’ as sweetly as possible, chuckling at the shocked expression that crosses his face. “I should tease you more often. Your blushing is endearing.”

“...Is that so?” He sounds unsure of his words...only for that sly little smirk to make its appearance once again.  “I gotta say, I didn’t know you were into this kind of stuff.”

“W-What?”

“I could get used to you calling me ‘master’.”

“Oh great, now you’re enjoying this,” I say as sarcastically as possible. “You are so-”

“Charming? Handsome? Sexy?”

“I was going to say infuriating.” I dare a glance at Ren. He smirks, clearly not believing me. He can believe whatever he wants. “Hey, if you have more fancy attire for yourself, we could go to this buffet I’ve heard about. My treat.”

“Would you be my escort?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Ren, you’re my boyfriend.”

“So?”

“I’m not getting paid to spend time with you, so I wouldn’t be an escort.”

“Yes, you are! You’re getting paid in love,” he says before planting a kiss on my neck, smirking as I instinctively freeze up, “and affection.”

“Only you would say something as foolish as that...well, I’ll be waiting downstairs,” I say once I realize Ren isn’t going to try and create one of his “masterpieces” using my neck as his canvas. Not yet, at least.

Prompt list