#interacting with customers was sometimes actually quite nice and i felt like i was getting better at it

[ghostcrows]

I miss the library :/

[elysiadjarin]

Day 2: Breeding Kink

Day 2 of Kinktober and… I got carried away with this one. The others are not going to be nearly as long as this one, so you guys are gonna be spoiled with this. I hope you enjoy it! Find my Kinktober Masterlist here.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ only content. Some warnings for violence and blood mentioned, though nothing too graphic. PinV sex, unprotected, consensual, nonhuman character, exophilia, slight hint of biting kink

Tags: Dilf!werewolf x reader, exophilia, kinktober

Moonlight Through Colored Leaves

When you’d first moved to the tiny Irish town in the middle of nowhere, you’d originally hoped to escape the family drama that haunted you back in America. Thanks to your grandfather’s Irish immigration, you’d been able to get an Irish citizenship and move relatively easily. So, you’d packed your bags, only told your grandfather where you were going, and boarded the first flight to Ireland you could catch.

You’d quietly made your way to your grandfather’s tiny hometown far out in the countryside, and moved into the long-since abandoned house that had belonged to your ancestors before. Though it had been run down and you’d had to do some major repairs and cleaning, you’d finally made a cozy cottage on the outskirts of the small village-like town.

The town had been quite welcoming and friendly, and you’d quickly found a job working at the local town pub as a waitress. Your boss had been very welcoming, and you’d earned favor from your coworkers and boss for your hard work and quiet, unassuming diligence. The pay was good, and you found yourself growing comfortable in the sleepy town life, meeting your neighbors and getting familiar with the town dynamics.

You’d just gone in for your shift of the day when conversation caught your ear. You put on your waitress apron, pulling your hair up into a ponytail and walking out to the bar to grab your tray.

“Did you hear about the news?” Jaina asked, arms propped on the countertop. “I mean, about that Romanian vamp that landed on Scotland the other day. Word is that he’s headed this way.”

“Well why would it want teh come here?” Sean snorted. “We’re out in teh middle o’ nowhere, Janie, t’ere ain’t not’in’ here t’at it would want.”

“Well didn’t you hear that apparently they’re expecting Agent Blue to be chasing it down with the Dullahan?” Jaina hissed. “Why wouldn’t they come over here?”

You hid your discreet grimace, instead walking out in front of the bar. To your delight and surprise, you found yourself facing a familiar little figure sitting at the bar in a corner. The little girl caught sight of you and squealed, waving.

You went over to her giving her a hug. “Well hello there, Miss Morrigan,” you greeted cheerfully. “How are you this fine evening? Having a drink?” you teased, noticing the glass of juice near her notebook.

She giggled, nodding. “Yeah! I’m with Daddy today,” she answered, feet kicking against the bar. She turned her head to see the bartender approaching. “Daddy!” she said excitedly. “Look, it’s the nice neighbor lady I told you about!”

You looked up to see Lysander Sullivan standing there, polishing a glass with a cloth. He gazed down at his daughter with a fond look deep in his eyes, then turned to look at you, his ice blue eyes meeting yours.

“Is that so?” he asked, his deep voice a low rumble in the relatively quiet bar. It hadn’t gotten to heavy traffic times, so there weren’t many people around yet. His grey-flecked hair had been swept back into an elastic band, and his beard had been neatly trimmed.

You gave him a small, shy smile, a little embarrassed. Though you knew that the man lived next to your property, you’d been a bit timid about approaching him. He was a kind enough gentleman from everything you’d seen and heard, and he’d watched out for you as you worked, but you didn’t see any reason why he’d be interested in any further contact with you. After all, you were a younger woman in your mid-twenties that lived alone.

“Yeah! She helps me with homework sometimes,” Morrigan prattled on, “and she lets me water her flowers!”

You laughed a little, feeling the color splash across your cheeks. “Well, I certainly enjoy the little Queen’s company,” you admitted. You’d heard some of the other workers gossip about Lysander, saying that he was a single father to nine-year-old Morrigan and that her mother had died in a tragic accident. You didn’t really know, and you’d tried not to pry or overhear too much. The man had a right to privacy, just like you had things you were running from as well.

“Thank you for looking out for the little cub,” Lysander said, a small smile crossing his face. He mellowed out around his daughter, his love clear in how he interacted with her.

“Of course. It’s a delight,” you said, smiling at Morrigan. “She’s a smart little cookie, aren’t you, Queenie?” you asked, tugging at her pigtail teasingly.

She giggled. “Yeah!” Then she tilted her head at you. “Are you working with Daddy tonight?” she asked curiously.

“O-oh, well, sort of,” you stammered, taken aback a little. “He works behind the counter, but I serve people out there,” you said, motioning to the tables. “So I guess we do, in a way.”

Morrigan nodded sagely. “Ohhh, so you do the food and Daddy does the drinks.” She nodded, satisfied at her conclusion. “Oh, I’m making a drawing! I want you to see it later, when I’m finished,” she said, tugging at your sleeve.

You smiled. “Of course, Queenie. You just let me know and I’ll pop by when I have a moment, alright?” you promised.

She nodded, turning back to her notebook and picking up her crayons again. Tongue poked out, she diligently returned to her masterpiece. You gave her a fond smile, noting the way the soft lights made a halo in her blonde hair.

“She’s such an angel,” you murmured, grabbing some straws from the bar to stick into your pocket.

“Aye, that she is.” Lysander’s comment almost startled you. He glanced at you across the bar, the sleeves of his crisp maroon button-up rolled halfway up his arms. “I apologize for not bein’ a better neighbor,” he remarked.

You blinked, then reached up to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. “Oh, no— not at all,” you blurted, then gave him a chagrined smile. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’d met Morrigan when she was coming back from school, since I was in the front yard. She just… hopped on over, so I said hi. Honestly I should have introduced myself better, but…” You bit your lip. “I just kept putting it off because I didn’t want to bother you…”

He blinked, then chuckled slightly, as though surprised. “An’ here I thought it was ‘cause you didn’t really like me for some reason,” he said, amusement laced in his tone.

You gave him a horrified look. “Oh! Not at all!” You shook your head with a sigh, tugging mournfully at your ponytail. “I’m… notoriously bad at meeting people for the first time,” you groaned. “I just get nervous and tongue tied and I don’t know how to interact and… ugh.” You winced. “I am sorry, Mr. Sullivan. I should be a better neighbor, especially since I somehow got to know your daughter.” You half-laughed at yourself.

He waved you off. “I’m just glad you get along with Mor,” he chuckled. “She speaks endlessly about you. Seems like you’ve impressed her.”

You looked up at him, genuinely surprised. “Really?” you wondered, glancing at the girl. Then you smiled. “Well, I’m flattered. She’s such a smart, curious girl. I’m rather honored that she’d find me interesting.” You breathed a laugh, then glanced up at him. “I should get to my station, but… if you don’t mind, would it be alright if I swung by tomorrow to say hi and properly introduce myself?”

He nodded calmly. “Of course. She gets back home from school at three, if you wanted to catch her as well.”

You nodded, propping the tray on your hip. “Thank you! I’ll do that. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll stop procrastinating and actually start working,” you laughed, and walked off with a wave.

The night progressed relatively smoothly, customers rotating in and out with regulars stopping by. The crowds ebbed and flowed, sometimes more rowdy and sometimes more calm. Still, you enjoyed the atmosphere and the liveliness of it all. Despite it being a pub, and an Irish one at that, the town was small and most people knew everyone else. Plus, Lysander was the bartender for more than one reason. Everyone knew that making trouble of any sort was not tolerated and had force to back it up.

You occasionally popped by Morrigan’s place at the bar, either to have a chat or to admire the progress she’d made on her drawing. And throughout the night, your worries started to mount the more gossip you heard around the pub. Some of them had heard confirmation that the Romanian vampire gone mad was making a beeline for Ireland, though no one seemed to know why. There were even more rumors that Agent Blue, the famous Will-o-the-Wisp, was after the rampaging Pricoli. And still others said that the Scott Pack would be making a reappearance.

Once you’d finished your shift and helped close up shop, you started the trudge back to your cottage down the road. It wasn’t a far walk, really, and it gave you some time to think and clear your head from the smells of the pub. Reaching up, you pulled your hair free from the ponytail and sighed, shoulders slumping.

You’d come to Ireland to escape your problems, but it felt like they were all closing in on you as the days went by. As you got home and got ready for bed, you wondered if it was asking too much to hope for some peace.

Instead, you distracted yourself by trying to think of something to make for the Sullivans the next day. You didn’t want to go empty handed, after all. Maybe some bread-?

You fell asleep thinking about it.

~

You’d just lifted your hand to knock when the door flung open. Morrigan practically tackled you, wrapping her arms around your waist with a shriek of greeting.

Laughing, you balanced yourself and wrapped an arm around her. “Well hello, Queenie,” you greeted. “It’s wonderful to see you.”

She grabbed your hand and dragged you in, chattering happily about her day at school. “Oh, and you should have heard how everyone laughed!” She interrupted herself as she led you into the kitchen. “Daddy, she’s here!” she called.

Trying to balance the homemade sourdough in one hand while still holding Morrigan’s with the other, you looked up to give Lysander a helpless smile. “Hello, Mr. Sullivan,” you greeted, a little breathlessly.

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching up in amusement. “Well hallo, Miss,” he greeted back, wiping his hands with a towel. “Mor, why don’t you let her set the plate down before anything drops,” he said, shaking his head.

Morrigan let go of your hand, bouncing up and down. “Ooh, what is it?”

You offered it to Lysander, a little flustered. “I… well, I didn’t really want to come without an offering, so… I made some homemade sourdough,” you offered, a little awkwardly. “I hope you like it, it’s a fresh batch, still warm.”

He took it from you with a nod. “Thank you. We love sourdough, don’t we, Mor?” He seemed far more comfortable in his own home, less stoic and stern than in the pub.

Morrigan nodded, throwing up her hands with a cheer. “Yeah!” She danced around. “I love bread!” Then she grabbed your hand again. “Oh, oh, you gotta come see my room! Daddy just made me a new desk, and it’s really nice and shiny!”

Lysander waved you off as you turned to him. “Go ahead. Oh, I was going to invite you to dinner,” he added. “If you’d like. The food is almost done, actually. Your bread will be a perfect addition.”

You smiled. “I’d be honored. Thank you.” Then you let Morrigan drag you away.

By the time Lysander called for you both, you’d been given the official tour of her room and had happily listened to her tell stories of what she’d done at school and the projects she planned to do in the coming days. The little girl always cheered you up with her bright and cheerful presence. If anything, it eased your heart to see the little girl clearly so healthy and happy with her Father. She openly adored him, quite the Daddy’s girl.

As the three of you sat down at the table, you realized with a slight start that you’d never felt so comfortable in Ireland as you did in this moment. It felt… right, like you’d finally come home.

“Thank you for the food,” you said, giving Lysander a grateful smile. “It looks amazing.” The soup simmered in the bowls, while the sourdough bread had been cut into slices and set by the butter.

He nodded. “Thank you for the bread.” He passed the steamed potatoes, and everyone dug into the meal.

You let out a soft hum of contentment as you ate, enjoying the rich flavors and the homey comfort food. Clearly Lysander was a good cook, and you almost envied Morrigan for being able to come home to this every night. Not that you weren’t a good cook yourself, but you supposed company really did make a difference.

“The bread is so good!” Morrigan chirped, taking a giant bite of the bread slathered in butter.

You laughed softly. “I’m glad, Queenie. Take it slow,” you warned, worried she’d choke. “The bread isn’t going anywhere.”

She nodded, scarfing down her food. “Oh, oh, Daddy, cartoons are on soon! Can I please go watch? I did all my homework!”

Lysander nodded. “Alright. Go take your dishes to the sink.”

“Thank you! Morrigan cheered, sliding down from her chair and carefully taking the dishes. She trotted to the kitchen, then got herself a glass of juice and went to go to the living room.

You realized with a slight start that this was the first time you’d been alone with Lysander. Looking down at your spoonful, you wondered if you should maybe ask him the questions that pressed on your mind. Perhaps he would know. Then again… it’s not as though he were related to your grandfather’s clan… and not to mention, most of the people in the town didn’t even know that you were aware of the nonhuman community. In fact, you were rather positive that your coworkers thought you didn’t.

“If I may ask, what brought you to this small town?” Lysander asked, his voice calm and mellow. His blue eyes glanced up at you, and the question died on your tongue.

“Oh… family history, actually,” you admitted with a smile. “And, well…” You shrugged lightly. “I needed to get away for a while. I wanted a fresh start, somewhere where people didn’t really know me.”

“Understandable.” He nodded. “I essentially did the same with Morrigan when we moved here a few years ago.”

You hummed, reaching for a piece of bread. He handed you the butter, and you gently grasped the sleeve of his flannel for a moment. “You’ve got a bit on your clothes,” you said, wiping the smeared butter off with a napkin. You’d just let go when your fingers brushed across his briefly as you took the butter. You didn’t notice the way he froze, his movements jerky as he pulled his hand back.

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “Do you— I mean, does any of your family still live here?”

You shook your head. “Not exactly. But technically, my extended family is here. My grandfather immigrated from Ireland to America, where I was born, but through marriage there are still people here I’m technically connected to.” You shrugged. “I haven’t really gotten in contact with them, though. They probably don’t know me that well,” you laughed with a rueful shrug. You glanced at him for a moment. “I bet it’s even harder when you have children.”

He glanced toward the living room, where the faint sound of the cartoons floated through the house. “Well, I suppose,” he admitted thoughtfully. “Still, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. She’s my life, really.”

You lowered your eyes to your plate, unable to deny how your chest tightened at the way his voice softened when he spoke of his daughter. You’d always tried to forget how much you’d been attracted to the older man. You’d only ever dated once, and while he’d been nice enough and it had ended cordially, you still hadn’t been able to forget the lingering feeling of disappointment you’d had from the experience. You’d known, after that, that it would either be a long time before you ever tried dating again or it would have to be to someone whose maturity at least matched yours. And, unfortunately for you, that tended to mostly apply to men past their forties.

You really did try to forget how Lysander ticked all the boxes.

“I can see why.” You smiled. “She’s really precious.” Your eyes slid toward the living room. “Does she… inherit from you?”

Lysander looked up, his gaze suddenly piercing as he stared at you openly.

You gave him a faint smile. “I don’t talk much about it, but my grandfather comes from the local O’Connor Faoladh Tribe,” you said calmly, taking another sip of the soup.

His shoulders relaxed, the hard edge in his expression melting away. “Ah. Yes, she does. But she hasn’t fully shifted yet. It will be another year, we think. Are you-?”

You shook your head. “Oh, no. It’s funny, really,” you said thoughtfully, motioning with your spoon. “My grandfather is Faoladh, and my mother’s side of the family is a lycanthrope pack.” Your lips twitched. “And somehow, I got the recessive genes and ended up a simple Seer.”

His eyebrow raised. “Not so simple, I’d think,” he remarked. “Aren’t Seers rather uncommon now?”

You shrugged. “For a reason. There’s plenty of potential but not many who actively practice anymore. The price is heavy for knowledge like that.”

He gave you a discerning look. “Is that what you’re running from?”

Your silver spoon clinked softly as you set it down on the edge of the plate. “I suppose you could say that,” you murmured. Your eyes closed as you shoved away the memories of distant screaming, the crackle of fire, crimson splashed across stone floors— “Or maybe toward something.” After all, you mused, there had been a reason you’d felt drawn to your grandfather’s homeland, and town in particular. And of course, you’d never been one to fight Fate too hard.

“Perhaps so,” he conceded. Then he stood. “May I take your plate?”

“Oh— please, let me help.” You stood, taking your dishes and starting towards the kitchen. “At least let me wash or dry.”

When you finally got back home, you sat down on the couch and buried your face into your hands. Seeing Morrigan and Lysander together had stirred up old memories you’d long since tried to forget. Old desires that you’d thought you’d given up on: hopes and dreams of a family to call your own.

You crawled into bed, everything inside you aching. After all, what could a Seer with a cursed fate possibly offer anyone?

~

The night the Dullahan rode into town, you’d just started closing up the pub on night shift duty.

They’d ridden in, followed by the famous Agent Blue clad in his dark robes and carrying his lantern over his shoulder. He strode in the door, followed by the Dullahan. At first, you hadn’t even noticed the other figure trailing behind them.

Your Boss, Dorian, had walked out of the back room to greet them. He, of everyone in the town, was the only one to know of your heritage, as the elected leader of the supernatural community in the town. He nodded to the group as they entered.

“Welcome, Dullahan, Agent Blue.” He nodded at them, shaking the Will-o-the-Wisp’s hand.

“Greetings in return, Chief Dorian,” Agent Blue replied, his face still covered by the hood. “Apologies for the intrusion. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Pricoli that’s been running amok all over the Isles.”

Dorian nodded. “We certainly have. I assume you’ve come on a hunt.”

“We have. And I’ve brought someone with me.” Agent Blue turned, motioning towards the back of the group.

You’d been distracted, still working on trying to finish clearing up and getting out of the way. If your boss had asked, you were ready to offer to serve the new guests as well, giving Lysander a glance that he returned with a small nod.

It wasn’t until you straightened and turned around, finished, that you heard a familiar, startled voice call your name. Turning, you looked up and saw, to your shock, a very familiar face staring at you. You froze as the figure lunged forward, wrapping you in a tight hug. After a moment, you awkwardly hugged him back, mind whirling.

“What are you doing here?” Your younger brother stared at you incredulously, holding your arms. “I didn’t even know you left home! Last I heard you were still there.”

You grasped his sleeves, disoriented. “O-Oh. Ray,” you gasped, processing. “I—“ You suppressed a flinch. “I just… moved into grandfather’s old cottage,” you stammered, then looked down. “I had to get away,” you said quietly. “It was too much.”

Of all your family, you knew that Ray would best understand. He’d been the only one to really stand up for you back home, try to support you as best as he could, being a younger sibling. When everyone else constantly reminded you of your Fate, your Destiny, Ray had been the only one who had encouraged your personal hopes and dreams, had listened to your fears and worries.

He sighed. “I mean, I can’t blame you,” he said, shaking his head. “Still… does anyone know?”

You scoffed slightly, turning your head away. “Only Grandfather ever cared about me besides you, Ray. There’s no one else who probably even asked.” You shrugged. “How is school?” You’d been the one to support him when he decided to move to Scotland to attend University. He, too, had wanted to escape home.

He grinned. “Pretty great, actually!” Then he glanced behind him. “Turns out my best mate is actually one of Agent Blue’s sons, so when the whole Pricoli thing went down, I offered to be his in to the Faoladh Tribe here. For formality, y’know.” He shrugged. “I remembered what Grandfather had always taught us about how picky Faoladh are about tradition.”

You nodded. “Yeah…” You huffed slightly. “Technically only the people in here right now even know that I’m a part of the supernatural community,” you said dryly.

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s some dedication to keep it quiet. How has the local gossip train not found you out yet?”

You snorted. “Maybe because I’ve always been quiet and kept my mouth shut.” You rolled your eyes at him, though a smile twitched on your lips. “And we both know who never can.”

He playfully cuffed your shoulder. Then he grinned. “Oh, but guess what?” His eyes sparkled. “I found my Mate!”

Your eyes widened. “Really?” Your heart lightened for him, happy that your younger brother had finally found his Mate. “Does she know yet?”

He shook his head, face falling a little. Well, not yet. I mean, I’ve kinda only just met her and all, so… and it’s kinda awkward, cause…” He winced. “Well, she’s my best mate’s younger sister.”

You gave him an incredulous look, then sighed, shaking your head. “Well, good luck with that one, Ray,” you snorted. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite the situation with that one.”

He shrugged. “I know, but…” His grin turned goofy. “She’s so pretty. You should see her. She’s even pretty sassy, kinda like you are with me.”

You laughed softly, patting his arm. “Well, I’m glad I was able to catch up with you. If you need a place to stay, you know my house is always open to you.”

He nodded. “Thanks, sis. I should probably head back. I don’t know what else they might want me for.” He paused, then gave you an odd look. “Have you… found anyone?”

You blinked at him, startled. “What? Ray, you know what my Fate says.” You frowned.

An odd expression crossed his face, then he shook his head. “Yeah, I know. Just… don’t forget the promise you made me.”

You sighed. “I won’t, Ray.” As if you ever could, you thought with a hint of bitterness. He wouldn’t let you.

He squeezed your hand, slipping a piece of paper into your grasp. “Text me. I wanna keep in touch.”

You nodded, pocketing the note. “Thanks. Good luck, Ray. Stay safe.”

He nodded, then jogged back to Agent Blue with a wave. You were left to stand there, your heart sinking with every step he took away from you. Everything was lining up far too well. Though you’d vainly hoped to escape from the Fate that had hung over your head for so long, it seemed as though you’d just walked right into it instead.

Turning back to the bar, you quietly packed up your things. Bidding Lysander goodnight, you checked to make sure Dorian didn’t need you and headed back for home.

It was only a matter of time.

~

Rain splattered against the ground, heavy and thick like a curtain. Shielding your eyes from the drops, you pushed yourself to run, faster, as fast as you could. There was no time left to think.

The vision you’d had kneeling under the large Fae Maypole tree you’d found in the forest nearby kept flashing through your mind, insistent and horrific. Your Fate loomed, past and future meshing into the present in ways you could hardly stand. You’d thought you’d been running, cowardly but maybe safe from the Sword of Damocles—but now here you were, fallen headlong into the trap of the Fate you’d known since childhood would claim your life.

And yet your feet would not stop running, pushing you forward without hesitation. Was this not worth it? Was this Fate—this Fate that you’d feared for so long, hated and loathed and tried in futility to escape—was it truly so horrendous? Now that you were here? In this moment of truth?

You barreled up the steps, slamming your shoulder against the door without a pause. It broke, sending you headlong across the threshold to skid across the carpet. Ignoring the burn on your arm, you looked up as you heard a scream. Morrigan’s face stared at you, sheet white as she curled up in fear by the foot of the couch.

Jacking yourself up, you didn’t take time to glance behind you. “Mor, into the safe room,” you gasped, “your Daddy sent me, okay? I need you to get in the safe room, now.”

She nodded shakily, bravely scrambling to her feet and running towards the safe room that Lysander had made for her. Nothing would get through the doors, you knew, once they locked. You waited until you heard the lock click, then turned and scrambled back out the busted door.

In the empty area between your houses, out on the outskirts of the town, everything seemed oddly distant yet crystal clear. Your memories nudged at you, whispering about the deja vu that filled your every pore at the sight of the green, rolling grass and the relentless rain that poured over everything. In the distance, the red glare of a fire fueled by gas and undaunted by rain began to dominate the color of the sky.

It didn’t surprise you when cold fingers wrapped around your throat, leaving mottled bruises to bloom against your skin. You stood still, knowing that any movement might crush your throat. You may have been Fated to die, but not until you’d finished your task.

The enraged Pricoli snarled, hissing in your ear. “I know he sent you to hide her,” he sneered. “You helpless, pitiful Seer. For all your preeminence, did you not find a way to best me?” he barked a laugh, maniacal and loud. “You useless Seers and your cursed fates—and for what? A single moment of ruined glory?”

Your breath shallowed, airflow restricted. Agent Blue, several Dullahan, your brother, Dorian, and Lysander all emerged from the tree line, pausing as they saw you being held hostage. You closed your eyes for a moment as the icy hands constricted around your throat even further.

“Tell me where she is, and you get to live, Seer,” he snarled, his face nearing your ear. “She is my perfect match, my BloodSong. She is fated to be mine, my apprentice!” he howled. “Give her to me, my right!” His nails started to lengthen, turning into claws, digging against your skin. “Or I’ll drink you dry first and use you as fuel to take these maggots down.”

You brother’s face had gone ashen in horror, staring at you as though trying to deny his own eyes. His face twisted in despair.

“I’ll never give her up to you,” you answered, aware that everyone could hear you despite the rain. You tilted your head up, letting the rain wash over your face. “I am a Seer,” you declared, loudly, proud of it for the first time in your life. “And I embrace the Curse of my Fate. I pay the price gladly, if it means the power to make sure you never lay a finger on her.”

The Pricoli snarled, the rage almost audibly warping his voice into something demonic. “Then meet your Fate, Seer.”

Your knees gave out the moment his fangs ripped into your jugular. Strangely enough, the pain wasn’t even that bad, you mused hazily. Your eyes—were they blurred by tears or the rain?—rolled up to see your brother, mouth open as he reached for you. Even Lysander, white fur matted and soaked, had his maw open as his snout pointed to the sky.

Distantly, you could hear screaming. A roar, loud, tumbling through your chest, rattling into the ground. The crackling of fire. Everything started to get.. so… cold. Vaguely, as the hand shoved you forward and you landed against the ground, you could see out of the corner of your eye the Pricoli hunch forward. Despite the pain, the numbness… your lips curled in a vindictive smile.

The crimson eyes turned to you, a horrified anger sweeping through them as they landed on your twisted grin. A cold hand went up to his throat, and the Pricoli started to choke. His body lurched, tongue lolling as he gagged on your blood, his veins starting to light from the inside out with a toxic green. Slowly, agonizingly, he fell to his knees, his face contorted in a paroxysm of agony as he choked on your blood, your concentrated inherent magic tearing him apart from the inside out.

Your limbs felt sluggish as you forced yourself up, your ears ringing. Reaching up, you pressed your hand to your ruined neck and staggered to your feet, starting to lurch away from the destroyed corpse of the Pricoli. Warmth smeared across your skin, and every breath sent needles raking down your throat and into your lungs. Your feet stumbled, and before you realized it, you were leaning against something broad and firm.

Two icy blue eyes stared down at you, claws wrapping around your arms. Strangely enough, though, you didn’t fear that grasp. Lysander’s maw moved, you noticed faintly, but all you could hear was the persistent ringing in your ears. Vaguely, you reached up, your fingers clumsily landing on the side of his snout. Red smeared his fur, and your arm dropped down numbly to your side.

With the last of your strength, you forced your mouth to form the words that your shattered throat couldn’t say. Tell her goodbye.

The world spun into crimson.

~

Shivering, you shook your head as you curled into the corner that you’d pressed yourself into. Tears burned behind your eyes, and you heard your breath start to rasp and wheeze, rattling your throat.

Your brother’s face crumpled as he stared at you. “Please,” he begged, his voice wavering. “You need to drink.”

Agent Blue rested his hand on Ray’s shoulder. “Take it easy, son,” he said, voice firm but compassionate. “She’s understandably frightened. Even though she’s successfully gone through the change to being a damphyr, she’s had quite the scare and probably doesn’t want to feed.”

“But she needs to!” Ray exclaimed, frustration lacing his voice. “She’s already hurting.”

It was driving you insane. The pure power of the Will-o-the-Wisp’s blood was calling to you like a tempting beacon, and your brother’s hot blood practically screamed at you. The thirst flared in your throat, an ache so powerful you wanted to gag. It was like sandpaper. But you didn’t want to feed from them. You didn’t want to risk losing control, didn’t want to didn’t want to didn’t want to—

“I’ll take care of her.” Lysander stepped into the room. He turned to Ray. “She gave her life to save my daughter. This is the least I can do. I promise she’ll be in good hands.”

Your brother paused, then sighed, shoulders slumping. “I know you will, Sir,” he said, defeated. “I just…” He glanced over at you, eyes reflecting his misery.

Lysander reached out, squeezing Ray’s shoulder. “I understand,” he said quietly.

Ray nodded, then approached you again carefully. “Hey.” His voice softened. “I know you probably don’t want me around. But you have my number. Please, just… contact me when you’re ready, ok? You know I’ll be here for you, like I always have been. I’m gonna go back to Scotland, but you know how to reach me if you need anything. I won’t tell any of the family that you’re here.”

Swallowing back the drool, you tentatively reached out and barely ghosted your fingers against his cheek, hoping your eyes would convey your thanks. You just… needed space. Away from him, to control yourself, get yourself together.

But his expression turned a little more hopeful, and he nodded. “Love you, sis,” he said quietly. “Please… live.” With a small smile, he stood and followed Agent Blue out of the room.

With a quiet whine, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to push past the unbearable, insistent pain scratching down your throat. Your throat roared for a drink. Your eyes snapped open when you heard Lysander approach. Though you didn’t know why, his presence always sent you into an absolute panic, though not of fear. Your thirst around him seemed to impossibly skyrocket. Like something about him drove you crazy.

He knelt, his blue eyes fixed on yours. He reached out slowly, giving you a chance to move away. Instead, your body froze, entirely fixating on the way his plaid shirtsleeve pulled tight around his arm, rolled up to his elbow. You swallowed thickly, his blood an absolute siren call. You could smell it, practically taste it. Dripping down your throat, into your veins, ambrosia sweet and thick— Drool slipped down the corner of your mouth, past the pressure of fangs against your lips.

Lysander’s eyes strained. “I know what it does to you,” he said quietly. “Just the fact that you’re not lunging for me right now is…” He sighed, his other hand raking through his hair. “I don’t know if I’m impressed or-“ His lips twisted as he cut himself off, as though conflicted. “There’s a reason why my blood calls to you.” He settled himself in front of you, making you want to scream as both relief and a frenzy of want roared through you.

“Of course, Mor is my daughter,” Lysander said, his voice low as he looked down at the floor between you. “But her Mother was… not my true Mate.” He sighed. “I didn’t really care, because I loved her. But she… well, she left me. Didn’t want Mor, didn’t want… me.” A self-depreciating smile passed across his face. “But it was okay, I had Mor and I only wanted the best for her. But still… somewhere inside me, I knew that my true Mate was out there somewhere.”

You almost couldn’t focus, his proximity almost painful because he was too far, and yet not close enough—

“And then you appeared, and Mor started to love you, and I—“ He sighed, hand reaching up to cover his face. “And I didn’t know if I wanted to run or stay.” His shoulders slumped. “Seeing you with Mor, working with you, talking with you… every moment I spend with you near is like agony, but when you leave it’s like you take a part of me with you and I can’t breathe.”

Abruptly, your mouth went dry, shocked almost clear out of bloodlust. Wait, was he saying-?

“I told myself that you’d be better off without me,” Lysander admitted, voice thick. “I’m… not young any more. You’re beautiful and— and you have so much more promise, a whole life ahead of you… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’d gone for so long without my true Mate, I thought I’d be fine. But when I saw you lying on the ground…” He turned his face away, jaw ticking, a wild, feral light in his eyes. A low snarl rumbled through his chest, dissolving into a whine he quickly cut off.

He looked back up at you. “I’m not telling you this to make you feel… obligated to do anything. But you deserve to know the reason why my blood calls to you so strongly, and why— why I want you to drink from me. Why I don’t mind.”

Your mind whirled. The permission. The heady scent of his blood. The warmth he promised. The realization that he was calling you his true Mate. The way he looked at you, like you were the only thing he’d ever wanted.

Reaching up, you clapped your hand over your mouth with a half-sob of desperation. You wanted it. You practically ached for it, the kindness and love he offered. The promise of a family, a home, someone who had seen you at your worst and still somehow wanted you.

“Please,” Lysander rasped, his eyes laced with that same desperation roiling in his gut. “You don’t even have to accept me as a Mate. But you need to feed, and I—“

You were at your limit. You’d already taxed yourself as a newborn damphyr somehow trying to resist the frenzy of the first feed, and now that your Mate was in front of you, offering freely, practically begging you to feed from him, you could only take so much.

You lunged, a snarl dying on your lips as you lunged forward, the strength of your desperation actually knocking the seasoned werewolf down onto the floor. And still, even as you straddled his waist, your fingers curled around his shoulder, eyes fixed on the tempting expanse of his neck… you still tried to fight. Still tried to fight it, to control yourself.

But Lysander’s broad, warm hands gently wrapped around your waist, not fighting or pushing you off. The scar slashing across the left side of his face seemed to glow in the light streaming through the curtained window, and he gave you a smile.

“It’s okay,” he said, voice low and soothing. “I can handle it. I know you won’t hurt me.”

You shuddered, drool dripping down your fangs. Leaning forward slowly, you tried to keep yourself paced, tried to force yourself to some modicum of control. Mouth opening, you lowered your head until your fangs just barely grazed the crook of his neck and shoulder, not too close to his jugular but just enough.

The moment your fangs sank into his throat, Lysander’s fingers went weak around your waist. A deep groan pooled into the air, and a tremor ran through his body underneath you.

Heat pooled in your stomach, even as his blood slid down your throat with a satisfaction unparalleled. He tasted sweet and dusky, like fresh bread and sunshine, and freshly-cut grass after the rain. The pure heat and warmth he radiated soaked into you, and you felt the bloodlust slowly slake as you drank. Finally, you forced yourself to let go, vaguely aware with your instincts that you’d taken enough to not hurt him but probably still leave him a bit lightheaded for a moment.

The bite wound almost instantly healed over, and his grasp on your waist tightened again, fingers flexing as he regained his bearings.

You leaned your head against his chest, the gratitude and shame warring inside you. Grateful that he’d been so kind, so understanding and gentle. Ashamed of your own arousal, the way your entire being reacted to him.

Your name slipped from his lips, and a moment later his face pressed into your hair. His voice ached with the same torn desire that roiled through you. “I shouldn’t—“ He sucked in a sharp breath as you pressed your body flush against his. You could feel how tight his pants were, could feel the lines of his bulge pressed up against your thigh. A choked groan accompanied the way his hands spasmed around your waist.

“Mate.” The whisper slid from your mouth, the first thing you’d said aloud since your change. Your fingers clenched in his flannel shirt. “Mate… wants me?” Your voice cracked with your fear. Fear that he wouldn’t want to deal with you after all, that you weren’t worth it—

He pulled you closer to him, hand sliding to your hair. “So damn much, sweetheart,” he rasped, cradling your head to his shoulder. “You’re so goddamn beautiful and fierce— I don’t care if you’re human, Seer, damphyr. You’re my true Mate, my love.”

And you buried your face into his shoulder and let yourself shed a few tears of relief. He wanted you. Accepted you, in spite of everything.

“I know it’s not fair to ask you to stay,” his voice strained. “You gave your life for Morrigan, and I’m so much older—“

You reached up, your hands sliding up to cup his jaw as you slanted your lips over his, tears slipping down your cheeks. His mouth opened, kissing you back with a fervor as he splayed his hand over your lower back, pressing you into him. He let out a low growl, the sound rumbling through his chest and straight into your body. Your entire body flushed, and you let out a quiet whimper.

Almost before you could register it, he flipped you over onto the floor, hovering over you. His teeth bared, and he stared down at you with a heat in his eyes that scorched through you. His hands clenched around your waist, pulling your hips flush against his.

You whimpered, tilting your head to the side and exposing your throat to him, sprawled against the floor. Your chest heaved with breath, and a moment later his teeth closed gently on the arch of your neck. A soft breathy moan escaped your lips, eyes fluttering closed as his scent washed over you, his mouth marking your neck, replacing the memory of the Pricoli’s fingerprints mottled against your skin.

With an effort, Lysander wrenched himself away, though he half rutted against you. “Darling, I’m going to need you to tell me if you don’t want this,” he rasped, voice thick and half a snarl already.

“Lysander,” you whispered, lips caressing his name.

His hips stuttered, and he pulled you up against him before heaving himself up and staggering to the bed. He lowered you onto the bed, wasting no time before he practically yanked you to him, his hands hot and greedy. He kissed you, somehow still gentle and yet needy enough to take your breath away.

“May I?” He tapped your shirt.

You nodded shyly, letting him slide it off of you. You lifted your hips in an invitation, and he lowered his mouth to your neck as he slipped your shorts off. He groaned, hands sliding across your bared skin. His skin felt so hot to the touch against your chilled body, wholly satisfying. You practically melted into his hands like putty, malleable to however he touched you, moved you. He made you feel safe. Loved. Cherished. Wanted.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “So beautiful, leannen.” The Gaelic spilled naturally from his mouth as he slid his hands under your back, unhooking your bra. You let him slide it off, too desperate for the warmth of his hands to process embarrassment. His hands cupped your breasts, callouses rasping across your nipples in a way that left your breathless and aching.

You whimpered, a little encouraged by the way you felt his bulge throb against you at the sound. Fingers tangling in his shirt, you tilted your head for air, arching into his hands.

“Fuck,” Lysander hissed against your jaw, his hips rolling into you. His hands slid lower, and his thumbs hooked in your underwear. “Can I?”

You nodded, fingers clenching against his shoulders as he slid them off. His shirt was already straining at the seams, threatening to rip. At your tug, he took a moment to reach down and practically rip his shirt off, tossing it uncaringly to the side as he opened his mouth against your neck.

You were already dripping, just his touch and scent enough to arouse you. Breath hissed through his teeth as his fingers dragged through your slick, just barely brushing past your clit. A whine escaped your lips as you shivered, fingers slipping against his chest.

“You smell so good,” Lysander groaned, one finger slipping into you as his thumb rubbed circles around your clit. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re wet. Can I take care of you?” he rumbled, teeth nipping at your ear. “You already gorged yourself on my blood. How about I fill you up with something else?”

You flushed, fangs sinking into your lower lip. “Please?” you whispered.

His ice blue eyes flashed, and his chest heaved under your hands. “Oh, are we a little desperate?” He smirked, sliding another finger into you, stretching you. “Want me to pull your legs up on my shoulders and keep you here all night?” He chuckled, feeling you pulse around his fingers. “Mmmm, I think your gorgeous body is being pretty honest, sweetheart. Well. I aim to please my Mate.”

You only had a moment to wonder when he’d managed to get his pants off. His fingers slid out of you, only for you to feel his cock rest heavily against your entrance. He slid against you, and you could feel a dribble of precum smear across your skin. One hand went to your waist, holding you, while his other found your clit again.

“Is this alright, sweetheart?” he asked, voice low and suddenly soft. “I’m a bit of a stretch. I’ll try to go slow.”

With how wet you were, you sincerely doubted that he would find much of a problem. Still, you swallowed and nodded, grateful for his care and the way he tried, every step of the way, to make sure you were comfortable. Then again, you could already tell he wasn’t lying about how big he was. You could feel him resting against you, throbbing against your thigh. Slowly, he pressed just the tip into you, his breath shuddering.

Your lips parted in a gasp as he stretched you open, sliding into you. Compared to the chill of your body, his cock practically radiated heat. By the time he completely bottomed out, pelvis flush against yours, you’d already come so close to the edge, drool slipping from the corners of your lips. He seemed to completely fill you, pressing up against every spot inside of you until you swore he’d stretched you into his shape.

Lysander slumped over you, his head tucking into the crook of your neck. His entire body shuddered, and his hands clenched around your waist. His chest heaved against yours, muscles flexing as though he were physically holding himself back.

“Thank you.” The shaky whisper pooled against your skin. “For saving her. Giving your life for her. Thank you. For choosing me.”

Your fingers slid into his salt and pepper hair, relishing the stubble against your neck and shoulder. “I love you.” The confession spilled from your lips, quiet in the room.

He shuddered, letting out a low moan. His fingers clenched, just as he pulled you down further onto his cock, pressing up into you. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasped. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Lysander,” you repeated obediently, wholly truthful. Your core clenched around him, and he hissed, pulling out to thrust back into you.

“I love you,” he groaned, starting to thrust in a slow but steady rhythm. He reached down, then pulled your legs up around his hips. The new angle made you pulse as he seemed to reach impossibly deeper into you, angling up justenough to hit that one spot inside you that had you gasping and arching.

“You’re so tight,” he growled, picking up the pace. “Feels so good, sweetheart. So good.”

He suddenly reached behind you and grabbed a pillow, then lifted your hips up to prop it under you. Setting you back down, he shifted himself up and pulled your legs up to his shoulders.

A cry left your lips, utterly wrecked and broken. His cock completely filled you, fucking any semblance of coherence out of you, going so deep you swore you could feel it in your stomach. He seemed to know exactly how to read your body, adjusting to every whimper you let out, not giving you a break as he kept pounding into you with devastating precision.

“You feeling good, sweetheart?” he chuckled, the sound raking down your spine. “Is this what you want?” He thumbed your clit, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You gonna give Mor a little sibling? Taking me so well like this, spread open for me?”

The thought of adding more kids to your life, together with Lysander, proved to be the last straw for your poor mind. You came, stars bursting behind your eyelids as you cried out his name and the wave of heat and pleasure washed through your body.

And Lysander just kept fucking you through it, going harder as he pinned you against the sheets under him, not caring that your fingers raked against his shoulders. He bent to kiss you, murmuring your name in a husky voice that just wrecked you even more. He gave you no mercy, his gaze predatory as he stared down at you, soaking in your ruined expression.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Cum for me,” he murmured, coaxing you through your high.

Even when you rode it out, he didn’t slow down or let up the pace. “You gonna make me cum, darling? Can I cum inside you?”

A plea staggered off of your lips, followed by his name. Your jumbled, blissed-out mind wouldn’t allow you to do anything else, barely recalling your own name.

“Fuck— gonna cum, sweetheart— gonna fill you up—“ He let out a moan before his hips slammed into you one last time. He ground against you as he came, his bruising grip not letting you move an inch away from him.

You melted back into the bed, eyes closing as you soaked in the feeling of his seed filling you, pouring into you. Your fingers slid up the back of his neck as you lay there, docile and welcoming to his every move. Even when he’d finally stopped spilling into you, your stomach full and hot, he slumped against you.

His lips slid across your throat, soft and almost reverent, and he pulled you into his body. He murmured soft endearments into your ear, his hands running over you with gentle, loving strokes, soothing you.

“I promise I’ll do my best to protect you, treat you the way you should be,” he promised. “I love you so much, sweetheart.” Then he chuckled, hand running over your stomach. “I wonder if Morrigan will want a brother or a sister. She’s already going to be so excited to call you Mommy.”

You gave him a shy smile, accepting his soft kiss. “Thank you, Lysander,” you whispered. “I love you.”

Perhaps the price of your Fate had been high, you thought, but it had been entirely worth it.

[myherowritings]

PART 2. LOVE IS FAKE, MARRY A WEALTHY SUITOR

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.5k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. thank u guys for all the positive feedback on this series so far and i really hope u enjoy this chapter too ! ^-^ xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

© myherowritings — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, copying, or translating of any kind is not allowed. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

It seemed your subtle pleas to the gods to see the mysterious businessman again had been answered, since only the day after Shouto gave you a $100 tip, you saw him at the cafe. 

You looked to the skies with a hint of suspicion. This seemed too easy— You were expecting at least a few weeks of your heart pining as you wondered where-oh-where your dreamy customer could have gone. But instead, after a mere 24 hours later, you saw him enter the store in a pair of pressed trousers and a light blue, button up shirt that was rolled just below his elbows. 

Blinking, you drew your attention away from his exposed forearms. You knew he was attractive from your first encounter, but was he always this hot? 

Sadly, you couldn’t focus too much on that since he had to get behind the line and obstruct himself from your view, and you had to take the order of the next customer. 

“Hi! I can take the next person in line.” You smiled. “Good morning! What can I get started for you today?”

After repeating that five or so more times and starting a few drinks on hot bar, you finally reached Shouto’s place and, thankfully, there didn’t seem to be too many patrons piling behind him. 

“Good morning, Shouto!” you greeted when he stepped forward to the counter. “How are you this morning?”

“Better now that I saw you.” 

Your smile faltered as your cheeks heated up, but you tried to brush it off with a laugh. While Shouto had the definite looks of a so-called businessman playboy, his words held none of the flirtatious intonation as one might expect. In fact, he sounded like he genuinely meant it— Like he was only stating a simple fact and had no reason to be shameful. 

It felt both like an attack on your heart and like a refreshing glass of water at the same time. 

“How about you?” he continued. 

“I could say the same thing,” you said with a chuckle, but you found yourself meaning everything you told him. Though you didn’t expect to see him again at the cafe so soon, you couldn’t deny the instant he walked through the doors, your morning felt just a little bit brighter. “Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, but this is a pleasant surprise.” 

Shouto had the decency to look a little bashful as he averted his gaze slightly. “Yeah. I…really liked the...cheese danishes.” 

Surprised, a small giggle left your lips. “Don’t tell me you finished all three dozen of them!”

“Well…” He looked even more sheepish. “I didn’t exactly… I guess you could say that.” 

“I’m glad you liked them so much you came back for more,” you teased, looking down at the pastries from the oven you just stocked. “Sadly, our fresh pastry today is a chocolate croissant. I can tell my manager to have cheese danishes made again soon though!”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll try the chocolate croissants today then. Maybe five dozen this time.” 

Five multiplied by twelve… A whole 60 chocolate croissants? Were they all for him? You shrugged, not one to judge. If someone wanted to eat 60 croissants, so be it. Though you did hope he wouldn’t eat it all in one sitting. That might give him a stomachache. 

“Alrighty, five dozen chocolate croissants,” you repeated as you typed it into the register. “And would you like any beverages with that? Another flat white maybe?” 

“Actually, I’ll have a large macchiato with two extra shots of espresso this time.” 

You nodded with a hum. “Long day ahead?” 

“Unfortunately.” 

“I hope the coffee and croissants can carry you through, Shouto!” you said, wishing his day would go by smoothly. “Will that be all for you today?”

“Thank you, Y/N. I hope so too. And yes, that’s it.”

“Great. $73.24 is your total then! Will you be paying in card again?” 

He nodded. 

“Go ahead and scan and sign when you’re ready.”

You busied yourself by writing his name and order on a large cup and starting the espresso pulls. Your manager was helping get the pastries and other orders ready this morning, so it was nowhere near as hectic as yesterday. 

“Your order will be to your right. It was nice seeing you again, Shouto.” You smiled, giving him a small wave and already wishing you could hold the line up to talk to him longer. “See you tomorrow morning?” you asked almost hesitantly.

He returned your smile with upturned lips of his own. “Yeah. Tomorrow.” Before he left the counter, he pulled out another $100 bill—did he go to a dry cleaners to have his cash steamed and ironed? It was almost ridiculously crisp—and handed it to you. “A tip to show my appreciation for your service.”

“A-Again?” you stammered, eyes wide. That was $200 in two days from just his tip alone. That was more than you made in two weeks when you worked part-time! “Are you sure?”

Whether he had money to spare or not, this was incredibly generous of him and you would never have expected this amount from anyone. And it wasn’t like Shouto made it a scene for everyone in the shop to look at and gawk; he was subtle yet unashamed. Like he wanted to do it for no other reason than to do it. 

“Of course. You deserve it for your work, Y/N.”

The customer behind him made an impatient noise and you winced. You wanted to be able to thank him more, but all you had time for was a simple, “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

Shouto nodded in response before walking to the other side of the cafe to wait for his order while you managed the other customers in line, a fuzzy but warm feeling lingering in your stomach from your bizarre interaction. Money or not, you enjoyed seeing him in the mornings and were already looking forward to your brief conversations that would take place the next days to come.

He certainly gave you something to look forward to amidst the inconsiderate customers who barely saw you as human every morning. Sometimes, that was all you could ask for. 

When Shouto left the store and the line had died down towards the end of rush hour, your manager approached you with a curious look on her face. 

“That guy named Shouto…?” Miyazaki said. 

You nodded. 

“A friend of yours?”

“You could say that… We just met yesterday’s morning shift,” you said as you finished up the green tea latte for one of the remaining stragglers from the last hour’s boom. “But he’s really friendly I think.”

“You only recently became associated?” she asked, lifting a brow. “It seemed like you two were quite chummy today.” Then, nudged your side. “He was rather attractive don’t you think? And rich-looking.”

Fumbling with the lid on the beverage, you stifled a surprised cough. Sure, you got along with your boss and thought she was one of the more understanding and kind individuals you have worked under, but gossiping about the looks and potential income of a customer with your 56-year-old manager was not on your bingo sheet as a worker here.

“I…” You called out the order for the latte before turning back to your manager. “He is.”

“Ooh, he’s rich?”

“I meant he’s attractive!” you sputtered, feeling abashed at her blunt words. You thought of the tip he gave you in your pocket and his orders of dozens of pastries. “Rich…maybe so. Not that it matters!” 

Miyazaki tsked. “Of course it matters! Marry rich and your life will be easier. That’s what my mother told me and what her mother told her.” She shook her head. “Should’ve listened.” 

You laughed, feeling only a little awkward. It wasn’t the first time you heard that sentiment from someone older than you. It wasn’t uncommon for family members or even workers you were close to to share that same advice—if you could even call it that.

While you agreed money could make a lot of things easier, marrying someone for wealth didn’t appeal to you. But you recognized that even that may come from a place of privilege to be able to say. 

“He seems like a wealthy suitor for you, yes?”

“Suitor—?” you choked out. “No! I mean— We just met! We don’t know anything about each other really.”

She sighed, “Young people and their obsession with marrying someone they ‘know’ for true love. When do you really know someone anyway?” Waving a hand she changed the topic. “But enough of that. What I wanted to say was next time that man comes in here, we can offer him a complimentary box of a dozen pastries— Since he’s spent so much in so little it feels like the right thing to do.”

“Sure. A complimentary dozen.” Finally. Work. A topic you felt much more comfortable talking about. “That, I can do.” 

“And then maybe offer a hand in marriage while you’re at it.”

“Mrs. Miyazaki!” you gasped, feeling only mildly affronted. 

“I joke.” She ruffled her hair and smoothed down her apron. “I’m going to make more pastries now. Can you hold up the front?” 

“You can count on me.”

“I know I can. Thanks for your hard work!” 

And with that, she headed to the backroom where the kitchen was to leave you alone with your thoughts in a quiet cafe. Rush hour ended so there were only a few customers trickling in, most much kinder and more pleasant to talk to than the bustling businessmen of the earlier shift. 

Throughout your small conversations with the patrons, you found yourself thinking back to two things— One, how interesting traditional values and teachings in collectivist cultures were and questioning where you fell into place with them, and two…wondering about Shouto. 

Tomorrow, he had said before he left. You’d see him again tomorrow. 

Oddly enough, you were looking forward to it more than you’d like to admit. 

— ✩ —

It was the fifth day of the week, the fifth time he had seen you at the cafe, and he was already tempted to see you again. Would it be invasive to get another pastry after work? Would you even be there working at that hour?

Shouto saw you this morning (along with all the other mornings before that) and yet he couldn’t quell the pull he felt towards you with only the short interaction time you had together. But he would take what he could get without being weird. 

He had been told in the past he could be too forward and dysregulate his feelings and scare people off, and that wasn’t something he wanted to risk with you, though he was certainly much better at it now with learning and practice. If he was reading things correctly, you at least seemed to enjoy seeing him during your shift. 

“You got more pastries, sir?” an employee from the medical supplies sector asked him gleefully. “I swear they get better each time!”

Shouto nodded with a smile. “I’m glad you like it. I’ll be sure to relay your compliment.”

With the dozens of pastries he’s been ordering from your cafe (each order seeming to grow every time he visited after realizing just how much his employees enjoyed it), he would place them around the breakrooms and staff kitchens in the establishment. Those areas were always fully stocked with drinks and sandwiches and chocolates in case anyone needed a little boost, but nothing seemed to bring as much comfort as freshly baked pastries did. And a different baked good almost everyday seemed to give people more to get excited about. 

He owed it all to your sales’ pitch and blinding smile that made him want to buy it. And your personality, of course.

His Personal Secretary had started to wonder why she no longer was tasked with his early morning coffee runs, and Shouto had to find a way to answer without saying it was because there was a barista he wanted to keep talking to. 

Not even he was that shameless. 

The first time, his PS had just called in sick and Shouto decided he might as well head to a cafe himself for the first time in a while. He worried he might have been rusty while ordering, but you did such a good job at being welcoming and guiding the transaction that he found himself actually enjoying it. (Enjoying you, maybe. But it was too soon to admit that.) 

And now, after that initial meeting, he decided it was worth half an hour of his day to give his PS some early morning break time and visit the cafe himself. 

It was worth it so much, in fact, that the next morning on a Saturday, despite most of his employees being given the weekend off, he still went to buy some coffee and pastries. 

“Good morning!” an older lady called as he entered the front doors. Shouto had seen her assisting in shifts and baking pastries when you were busy working the cash register. “What can I get started for you today?”

He looked around the store—relatively quiet compared to the rush hour during the weekdays—and to his disappointment, saw no sight of you. 

The current barista laughed, seeming to read his very thoughts. “Looking for someone? Y/N perhaps?”

His gaze shot up, feeling like a kid getting caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to by his guardian. Cautiously, he gave a small nod. 

“‘Fraid they have the weekends off, actually,” the lady—her name tag read Miyazaki—said. “But don’t look so down, they’ll be back on Monday morning to greet you with a smile.”

He nodded again, feeling his face heat up. Was he that transparent or did Miyazaki just know too much? “Thank you, ma’am.”

She chuckled, waving him over. “No need to be so formal. Now, is there anything I can get for you? Or were you just visiting in hopes of asking our dear Y/N out?”

“No— I…” Shouto felt himself averting his gaze. “I’ll order something.”

At his apparent discomfort, her mischievous gaze softened. “Of course, hon. Sorry for teasing too much. I was just excited seeing how adorable you and Y/N were.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, that’s not my business. Anyway. What can I get started for you?”

He asked for a macchiato and a couple dozen of today’s pastries, paid, and tipped. (Though, it was initially met with a blatant rejection. He didn’t take it too hard; he knew some older members of society thought of tips as insulting and he’d never force anyone to take a tip if it made them feel bad. But after offering again, she thankfully accepted it.)

When he left the cafe, although the exchange was pleasant enough, Shouto still found himself disappointed he wasn’t able to see you. 

At least he had something to look forward to next Monday morning, though part of him wished the day would somehow come sooner. 

a/n: hope u enjoyed miyazaki’s words of wisdom u.u FHKDF i’m totally kidding, but if ur asian like me then u kNOW what convos like that are like omg ,, just had my mom and two grandmas tell me that recently :’/ kskskfd but anyway i hope u enjoyed this chapter and liked seeing a glimpse of shouto’s thoughts ;3 tysm for reading!

what to expect in the next part:

more shouto and y/n :>

maybe some ~flirting~ pfft idk idk u.u

some minor...misunderstandings 

“hello, zuko here” vibes

[green-socks]

Endless Nights

Pairing: Benny Miller x gn!reader (no descriptions or pronouns)

Summary: You and Benny can't seem to get enough of each other's company. Could tonight be the night you find the courage to do something about that crush?

Words: 2,101

Warnings: Nudity but not the sexual kind, food/eating. Almost zero editing and a tired writer.

Notes: I don't always participate in Writer Wednesday, but when I do I take one look at the picture, get an idea and then go completely off the rails. Sorry. So the pic doesn't really have a lot to do with the rest of the fic but I hope that's okay. For this week's @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday, thanks for organizing it every week!

I had the idea for midnight shopping at the supermarket with Benny and then realized I didn't want the night to end there... So it didn't. I actually like this piece, even if it probably suffered a lot from my fast writing and non-existent editing. Reader is mentioned having shorter legs than Benny but other than that I think there are no descriptions or pronouns used of reader, lmk if I'm wrong.

MASTERLIST

You and Benny have been driving around aimlessly for a couple of hours already, taking turns in picking the music, and talking about this and that while sometimes falling into a companionable silence. It still amazes you how easy and comfortable everything is with him. You have never felt like this with a crush before, used to the feeling of always obsessing over what you felt like you could and couldn’t say or do, or spending a lot of time and energy into trying to figure out what the other thought.

No, with Benny you don’t have to pretend anything or force yourself to keep the conversation running in fear of those horrid awkward silences, because both of you know that you can talk for hours on end when the mood strikes. You met through mutual friends only a few weeks ago, but the connection was clearly there. As was the obvious mutual attraction.

Strictly speaking, though, you and Benny are just friends. Nothing has ever really happened to indicate otherwise in any case. But friends don’t usually try this hard to find any excuse just to hang out, nor do you stay up late every night talking to your other friends. And when you hang out in a group you always seem to gravitate towards one another. What’s more, somehow it always seems to be just the two of you left at the end of the night, often not even noticing the others leave.

Your interactions always border on the line of obvious flirting with your touches and already formed inside jokes, but neither of you ever dare do anything that couldn’t be brushed off as innocent behavior between friends. You guess you’re both just kind of scared to take the leap - you have been burned before, and so has he.

It’s not that you doubt your own feelings for Benny, or indeed his feelings for you. Even you have to admit that he does seem pretty interested in you, but you still wave away your friends’ squeals of “he’s totally in love with you!”, mainly not wanting to get your hopes up too much.

Because a small part of you still finds it a little hard to believe; someone so handsome and funny and kind wanting to be with you? What if he likes you, but just not as much as you like him? What if you were just a second choice for someone you really like until something better comes along - again? That scares you, both of you.

Tonight has been like many other nights lately; you had been to the movies with some of your friends, but after the movie ended you had been grasping at straws to come up with a way to continue the night so they (Benny) wouldn’t go home just yet. Benny had helpfully suggested just driving around and seeing if any ideas came to mind.

Santiago in turn had rolled his eyes at you two knowingly (making both you and Benny fluster and try to fake complete nonchalance) before saying good night and leaving with the others, who apparently didn’t feel the compulsive need to continue spending time together.

--------

The sun has gone down already but you two are still enjoying each other’s company too much to go home yet.

You end up in the 24/7 supermarket parking lot, craving a midnight snack. You are reminded of your teenage years, when you used to hang around different parking lots, popping into the store to buy a soda or a candy bar, spending all day outside with friends.

The only other customers doing their midnight shopping are tired people just off their shifts or young people staying up late just for the hell of it, much like you and Benny are, in fact. You wander around the huge store together, pointing out different products you’d like to try and reviewing stuff one of you already has tried.

Before long you realize that you have already spent almost forty minutes idly wandering around the supermarket, collecting new soda or chip flavors to test. Neither of you thought to grab a basket at the entrance, so your arms are starting to get a bit full.

“Benny, do you think this might be enough?” you ask while struggling to maintain your hold on the different bags of chips.

Benny looks back at you from where he is pondering over whether to get some ice cream. “Huh, I guess. I do still wanna get a sandwich, though!” he exclaims and promptly takes off in the direction of the deli counter where they sell sandwiches and salads left over from the day.

You try to keep up with his long strides, certain that you must look a bit comical half-running after a man with your hands full of treats. Oh, well. Benny often complains about how much focus it requires of him to “modify his steps” to fit your much shorter legs, and he always forgets about it when he gets excited.

When you catch up with him, he has already picked a sandwich for himself and one for you. “I got you salmon, that’s your favorite, right?”

“Yeah, thanks!” you say a little breathlessly after your speed-walk, taken that he remembers.

As you finally get to the cash register and start loading your stuff in your bag you see Benny sneak one more candy bar among the rest of your purchases. For someone in such good physical shape he sure does like his candy.

“Where to next?” Benny inquires as you get back to the car.

“Hmm, how about this one waterfront type swimming spot? It’s pretty secluded, has a pier, and there’s a nice view to the sea. I sometimes like to sit there on the cliffs to watch the sun go down,” you suggest, and offer him directions to the place.

It’s a short drive and you show Benny where to park his car. Even though it’s somewhere around 1 a.m. and the sun went down hours ago, the night is still light enough that you can easily see where you’re going and it doesn’t feel like you’re just sitting in the dark.

You settle down on the small pier with your sandwiches and sodas and chips and munch away happily.

Benny hands you the candy bar you saw him grab earlier at the cash register “for dessert”. It has a cheesy text on the packaging about giving this to someone special. He grins and shrugs, “I know you love these”.

It’s such a simple gesture but you can’t help feeling really flattered and even more smitten with him than you already were. You don’t read too much into the text on the packaging, but even the fact that he would buy you a candy bar he knows you love - just because - warms your heart.

(What you don’t know is that the candy bars have lots of different texts to choose from, and that Benny specifically picked “give this to someone special” instead of “give this to a friend”. There was also “give this to someone you love”, but Benny worried that might scare you off.)

--------

After you’re both done with snacking you try to think of what to do next, still reluctant to pronounce this night to be over, you get an idea.

“You know what I would really like to do right now?” you ask Benny, looking out over the water that looks so tempting. “Go swim,” you announce, turning to look at him.

“You don’t have a swimsuit with you, do you?” Benny asks, turning to look at you too.

“No… But there’s no one here,” you point out with your eyebrows raised in challenge.

Benny looks at you for a few beats with a blank expression on his face, before shrugging “Alright,” and throwing off his hoodie and t-shirt, jeans following next. “What are you waiting for?” he shouts over his shoulder as he jumps from the pier into the water.

You’re left sitting there with your mouth open, blinking rapidly as you try to catch up with the fast turn of events. Shaking your head, you stand up and shrug off your clothes before quickly running after Benny and getting into the refreshing water.

The night is still warm, and the water feels wonderful. You swim to catch up with Benny.

“You know, it’s pretty dark here but I’ve basically seen you naked now,” he remarks, waggling his eyebrows, and you snort with laughter.

“Benny, you’re not allowed to make me laugh in the water or I’ll drown,” you try to say sternly.

“Oh sweetheart, I wouldn’t let you drown,” he answers in a surprisingly serious voice.

Suddenly the energy between you is full of.. something. Something new and buzzing, sort of scary but also exciting. Something you can’t quite explain. You’re swimming around each other, looking at each other intently, but not daring to say anything that would break the moment and burst the bubble.

Someone else does that for you.

A couple of teenage girls, you’d guess around 18 years old, stumble on to the pier and immediately notice you two in the water. The other girl lets out a shriek and tightens her hold on the towel around her, and before you can even try to reassure them that everything is fine, they run off giggling and shrieking some more. Evidently, they had had the same idea for a nighttime swim but found the place already occupied.

“Yeahhhh, maybe we should put some clothes on before someone calls the police,” Benny suggests dryly.

You two climb out of the water giggling and grinning broadly. You don’t have any towels with you since you didn’t exactly plan this impromptu skinny-dipping session, but Benny gives you his hoodie to help keep you warm.

Sitting back down next to Benny you’re even closer together now than earlier, ever so slowly inching closer and closer to each other. Both of you think you could pass it off as huddling for warmth if the other were to question it, but somehow you know that won’t be an issue.

Soon enough you’re snuggling together on the waterfront overlooking the sea. You stay quietly like that for some time, maybe fifteen minutes, maybe more. It’s hard to tell when the world is so still and quiet around you.

Suddenly you think that this is it, this is the moment you’ve been waiting for. In all honesty you sort of enjoy the pining stage of new relationships, but right now you feel like you might burst if you keep these feelings inside you any longer.

You turn and burrow your head into the crook of his neck and decide that you will have to take the leap now. You start pressing gentle kisses on his neck and hear Benny’s breath hitch at the first contact of your lips on his skin. He goes still as a statue, but you can feel more than hear his unsteady breathing at your actions. You’re practically vibrating with nervous excitement as you work your way up to his jaw and towards his lips.

Taking one final deep breath you close your eyes, not daring to look at Benny in the eye right now, as you bring your lips to meet his.

The kiss is sweet and unhurried, and yet your head is swimming and your whole body is buzzing with it as you melt into each other. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt, which just proves that everything really is different - better - with Benny. You pull away when you find yourself quickly out of breath just from feeling so much.

You finally dare to open your eyes to find Benny gazing at you with a dazed expression that surely mirrors your own and you slowly beam at each other, not feeling the need for words just now. Maybe you couldn’t even find them if you tried.

You settle back against his chest and the two of you stay like that for the rest of the night, sometimes spending long moments just kissing each other, sometimes talking quietly, sometimes just enjoying each other’s presence.

--------

Around five in the morning, when the sun is already getting up, you finally start to really feel the need for sleep. But this time it doesn’t feel wrong to leave and go home, since you’ll be going home together.

Later that day you wake up to a good morning, sweetheart in Benny’s arms where you fell asleep on his couch, tired but happier than you’ve ever felt in your life.

[starlightinhumanform]

Nothing Sweeter

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: Romantic Moxiety, Platonic Analoceit (only mentioned)

Summary: When Virgil agreed to work a cashier shift at the bakery, Logan had assured him that they never get customers that late. Instead, Virgil comes face to face with the cutest customer he’s ever seen.

Warnings: None! (please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: Bakery AU, Tooth-rotting Fluff

A/N: This was written for a request for @catemons-blog ! I haven’t written these babies in such a long time and to was so nice to write them again!! All reblogs and replies are greatly appreciated <3 Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3    Fic Masterpost    Fic Request Info

Virgil could feel flour beneath his nails, the warm dough under his hands, his arms moving automatically in the comforting, repetitive shifts of kneading bread. The bakery was like a second home to him but, more specifically, he loved the kitchen. He loved the whole cafe but the front wasn’t where he belonged— Logan and Janus took care of that— but this world of warmth and sweetness and soft scents, that was his.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like people, they just didn’t seem to click. It seemed like he was always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time or missing some social cue that was apparently obvious to everyone else but invisible to him. No, Virgil loved people and he loved to share what he made with them; it was just a lot lower stress to work behind the scenes.

So he surprised even himself when he agreed to run both the front and the back of the cafe for the night. Maybe it was Logan’s promise that nobody came in on a weekday in the late evening. Maybe it was Janus’ bribe that he would make Virgil an extra special mocha coffee tomorrow. Maybe it was the combined power of their pleading eyes. Whatever the case, Virgil found himself alone in the cafe on a late Wednesday evening, with nothing but his hands and his work for company.

Logan had been right— Virgil hadn’t seen a customer since his shift started at 7:00 and as the time stretched forward, it began to seem less and less likely that some would order a coffee this late at night.

When the door chime ran at 10 pm, Virgil was half-expecting it to be Logan or Janus stopping by to see how he was doing (and probably to steal a jam-filled cookie or two).

Virgil walked into the front of the store to say hello but was instead faced by a stranger. They had a round face with large blue eyes and a mop of curly blond hair sweeping down their forehead— their face wasn’t ringing any bells. But Virgil didn’t really know the customer’s; he knew their orders .

He quirked an eyebrow as went down the list of regular customers this stranger could be and began taking guesses, “A dozen maple doughnut bars?”

“Um, no actually I want—” Their voice was soft but had a gravely quality that bite at the ends of their words. The voice was unfamiliar to Virgil but for some reason, he wanted to hear it more.

“Hmm, a ciabatta loaf and three everything bagels?”

“No… I was hoping you had—”

“Oh, I know! A loaf of rye, a loaf of pumpernickel, and a loaf of sourdough?”

The stranger began laughing. It was a nice laugh, Virgil guessed, but he couldn’t figure out what was so funny. He could feel his cheeks beginning to turn red; he had said something wrong again, hadn’t he?

They stopped laughing long enough to flash Virgil a bright, amused smile, “Are you going to keep guessing the entire night until you get my order right?”

The customer didn’t seem mad, he wasn’t even laughing at Virgil; he was laughing…  because of Virgil? Virgil had made them laugh and that felt very very different than being laughed at. Their laughs ran through the empty little dining area and bounced off the display case, almost entirely empty by this time of day. Their laughs made Virgil feel good, even if he didn’t quite understand what was so funny.

Virgil let himself take another look at the person in front of him. There was a warm, sweet sensation beginning to flutter in his stomach and he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

The customer was cute, no doubt about it. They were wearing large, round-framed glasses, nearly as gold as their hair. Behind the glasses, their eyes were one of the bluest blue Virgil had ever seen— like water drawn in a saturated kid’s cartoon. They were wearing a blue top tucked into a white pleated skirt and white mary-jane shoes. The skirt had attached suspender straps, one of which had a small pin on it. Looking closer, Virgil realized the pin was a small transgender pride flag with the pronouns “he/him” stamped over it. Ok, so the customer was a he ; and he was really, really cute.

Virgil tried to snap his mind back on focus. The man in front of him had stopped laughing but was still looking at him with a soft, somewhat lopsided smile.

Virgil looked down at his hands, feeling like making eye contact with this person was just a little too much right now. He cleared his throat, “So, uh, do you want to order something?”

“No, I actually was just planning on standing here for the rest of the night.”

“Really?” Virgil could feel his eyebrows furrowing together.

“No, no,” He stepped closer to the counter Virgil was behind, “I was just joking, sweetheart.”

Sometimes Virgil had a hard time catching social cues but the way he said “sweetheart” held too much kindness and sincerity for Virgil to miss its meaning. Virgil’s blush grew to a deep crimson.

He walked all the way to the counter so he and Virgil were only a foot apart. Virgil wasn’t sure if he wanted to flirt with him or run away to the kitchen. Somehow, putting a stove fire out seemed easier than talking to this customer.

Virgil shook his hands below the counter, hoping stimming would help release all of the energy and feelings bouncing around in his body. He tried to remember what Logan had told him in case customers did come in; there were specifically steps Logan was very particular about, “Could I get a name for your order?”

“Of course! My name’s Patton!”

God, even his name is cute.

“Your name’s Virgil?”

Virgil glanced down at his name tag as if he needed reminding of what it said. He nodded in confirmation of Patton’s question.

“That’s such a pretty name,” Patton’s smile reminded him of opening an oven door on a cold day, the warmth and sweetness rolling over him in waves. He felt like he was melting.

Patton’s eyes wandered over the menu board, licking his lips absentmindedly as he tried to make a decision. Virgil wished he could stop looking at his lips.

Finally he looked back over at Virgil, “Could I get three muffins—”

“Uh huh,” Virgil nodded as he jotted the words down on the receipt the way Logan had asked him to.

“—and, uh,” Patton leaned forward even a little closer, “Could I get your number?”

Virgil forgot how to talk in that moment, feelings of happiness practically vibrating through him. He wouldn’t be surprised if he just exploded, just nodding his head to answer Patton like his life depended on it.

Virgil moved as if he were in a dream, packaging the muffins as Patton paid. He felt like the planet’s gravity had suddenly been turned down and he was floating a few inches off the ground. He quickly scribbled his phone number on the bag before handing it to Patton.

“Oh! I almost forgot something!”

Virgil quirked an eyebrow at Patton’s exclamation, “You did?”

“Yeah! Your tip for such great service.”

“No, no you already gave a tip. See, it’s on your receipt beneath—”

Virgil froze as Patton leaned forward and planted a kiss on Virgil’s cheek.

“There! Extra tip for being so cute,” Patton gave him that lovely, warm smile before turning with a wave and walking out of the bakery.

Virgil sank to the floor, disregarding whether or not that was a health code violation. He didn’t care about that right now. His face was tingling and his heart was racing and he felt out of breath. He clapped his hands together, happy stims taking over for a moment as he processed the interaction he had just had with the cutest boy he had ever seen. Maybe working in the front of the bakery had its own benefits…

Virgil couldn’t stop smiling.

If you want to be added to my Sanders Sides fic taglist just send me an ask or reply to this post :)

General Sanders Sides Taglist: ~ @centimeter-tries-to-communicate @bee-syndrome @fandomfan315 @cas-is-a-hunter @reggieleigh07 @mossdeemo @im-actually-ok@softnic @catolicabuena @queer-disaster106 @lunawolf89 ~

[mystical-marauder]

Painting stars

Sirius enters an art shop, hoping to finally buy the supplies he'd been saving up for for months, but walking through that door brings him much more than expected

This is my first oneshot and I hope you like it and I'll post more writing like this hopefully and my writing can also be found on ao3 my username is @loveglowslikethemoon hope you enjoy :)

Today had been pretty quiet with only a couple customers and the shop was closing in 10 minutes, I was ready to go home...

Ding!

I look up from my book, ‘What kind of customer turns up this late?’ I think. I look around to the door, standing there is a tall, handsome young man, his grey eyes excitedly glancing over the shop, his black hair tied up into a bun. His fair skin is disrupted only by a small beauty mark, under his eye. The confident smile that suddenly splits his face as he turns to me, brings out two dimples that break his otherwise smooth cheeks.

"Afternoon! I'm looking for art supplies, I mean I am in an art shop" he says, chuckling. "I actually need some advice, you have a very wide selection and I'm not quite sure what to pick." he gestures vaguely at the shelves full of pencils and brushes, paint and charcoal, canvases and sketchbooks... "You see I love painting but I have no idea which brushes to use, it's embarrassing really."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, actually it's quite common, that’s what I’m here for” I reply with a smile “So you said you paint, right? What do you need, brushes, paint, canvases…?”

“I… um… I actually need everything… You see my parents, well, they kicked me out… and I left everything there… but I've finally saved up enough money to buy new supplies so here I am” he explains chuckling nervously. I look around nervously, unsure what to answer to that but I try to remain as steady and professional as possible.

“That's… terrible, I’m so sorry.” I say, smiling nervously, trying to seem comforting.

“It’s alright, it’s a good riddance I guess.” he replies cheerily “so about those supplies, what do you recommend?”

“Follow me, I’ll show you my recommendations. You’ll have to tell me a bit more about your style of painting so I can give you my best advice.” I say, leading him over to the shelves.

I quickly give him an overview of the different supplies before giving him a more detailed review of each product and advice. We slowly go through the shop and I don’t even notice the minutes fly by. As I walk to another shelf, I catch a glimpse of the clock. I should’ve closed the shop half an hour ago but I decide to leave it. I was having fun. What was the harm of staying open a little while longer? As the minutes pass, our chatter becomes less professional and more friendly. We talked and laughed together and soon enough, we’d picked out all his new art supplies.

“Well there’s everything you need!” I say, walking back to the counter. I start counting the price while chatting to him. “That’s £81.99, the easel is on the house for being such an amiable customer. Do come back if you ever need anything else, it was a pleasure to serve you.” I smile sadly, it had been more than a pleasure and I wish we didn’t have to say goodbye now.

“Thank you” he answers, giving me another of his confident smiles “I- I was wondering if umm… this might sound a bit weird but-” his piercing grey eyes quickly shift away, his normally confident appearance fading to show a childlike nervousness. “Before I left home, well, before I was forced out, I was studying anatomy, and well… I think you'd make the perfect model… Would it be alright if I painted you? If you don't mind, of course. Please don't feel forced to accept anything, but I'd love it if you do. And we could get a chance to get to know each other a little better, maybe somewhere where you don't work.” he clears his voice, as though happy to get this over with, and shifts his grey eyes back to me, his confidence returning. A new childish smile splits his face, as though it had never left it.

My eyes widen as I register what he just asked, and I quickly look away, embarrassed. ‘Perfect?’ as the word races through my mind again and again, I feel my face heat a little. Perfect? Me? No one had ever even called me pretty, let alone perfect, but now this man, who looks like a model himself, wants me to model for him and used that word to describe me. I return the smile, although mine is more nervous than childlike. He tilts his head slightly as though reading my emotions but seconds later, he lets out a small laugh which I quickly copy, trying to diffuse the awkwardness that flourished in me throughout this interaction.

“Are you sure you want me? I mean-” I cut off as I watch him nod confidently “alright I'd love to then!” I answer him, flattered, yet I can't stop the slight shake of my hands. What if I mess up? What if he ends up hating me?

“See you then” he says happily, turning away with a wink. I watch him as he walks out, finding myself to be grinning like a child, like him. I only have one thought left, ‘I don't have to say goodbye.’ I stay standing there for a few minutes with this thought before I snap back to reality. My eyes snap to the clock.

“Fuck” I whisper as I work out the time. If my boss finds out I closed the shop two hours late, I'm done for. ‘Oh well, it was worth it’ I think ‘and anyways he might not even find out.’ I start packing my bag when I suddenly realise he didn't give me a name let alone an address, how was I ever going to find him?! My eyes trail back to the door but of course he is long gone by now… I look around, panicked, as though expecting something to magically give me his address and that's when I notice the folded piece of paper on the counter. I slowly open it, my fingers trembling at the thought that it may not be what I think. I flatten out the paper and quickly read the snippet of writing. I smile inwardly, holding the small, unfolded piece of paper, relief slowly flooding through me as I trace the sentence again and again with my eyes, struggling to believe the evening's events.

19:30 tomorrow room 29 Mirror Hotel - Sirius Black

“Sirius Black” I whisper softly, smiling. “It's nice to meet you, Sirius Black”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I try to steady my hand as doubt rises in me again, one thought racing continuously through my mind ‘What if I mess up?’ I reach out and knock on the door hesitantly. I wait for a few seconds, yet it feels like an eternity, before the door is swung open.

“Found my note I see!” he exclaims, standing in the doorway with a huge grin lighting up his face. I smile back, trying to look as confident as he did.

“Here I brought you this” I reply, showing him my bag. I take out a small black book and present it to him, “it’s my favourite book, actually I was reading it when you came into the shop, I thought that maybe...” I trail off, embarrassed. I rub the back of my neck, feeling the warmth radiating from my palm. “I just thought maybe you'd find it interesting, I've read it so many times I practically know it off my heart” I laugh quietly, quickly glancing up at him “sorry I'm rambling”

Sirius looks at me, curiosity in his eyes. A small laugh escapes his lips before he turns to me and takes the book. He flips it, seemingly interested before looking back at me and taking a step back, to free the entrance. “Well why don't you come in?” he asks, before marking a pause, “I'm sorry I don't think I caught your name.”

“I'm Remus.” I respond, looking back up at him.

“Remus, that's a nice name.” he comments, his grin never leaving his face “the book seems interesting! I'll be sure to give it a try” I listen to him talk while I walk into his room, which is surprisingly organised. There isn't much, a table with an old laptop on it, two chairs, a bed, which takes up most of the space, a set of drawers, a small window and, in the corner, the art supplies he'd bought the day before. “You can sit here” he tells me, pushing one of the chairs towards me, I take it and sit down, putting my bag down next to it, unsure what to do next, I watch him walk over to the corner and pick up his art supplies.

“What do I need to do?” I ask, my hands still trembling slightly in my lap.

“Nothing, don't worry” he replies “just sit there and relax, there's nothing to be scared of” he addresses a friendly smile at me, pulling up the other chair to face me and setting up his easel in front of it. He takes out a brush and some paint, mixing them on his palette, and starts moving his hand up and down the canvas in big yet careful gestures. As the minutes pass, I start to feel more relaxed, watching his movements getting smaller and slower. “So, tell me a bit about yourself” he says, his eyes not moving from the canvas.

“Hmm oh well my life isn't very interesting. I grew up here with my parents, they're both gone now. I work in an art shop, as you know, I really like reading and I don't know what else to tell you…” I answer, thinking that my life must be too boring for him.

“That sounds interesting to me, you must know the surroundings pretty well then! Maybe you could show me around a little, I've been here for a few months but I still manage to get lost sometimes.” he tells me, chuckling.

“I'd love to, but only if you show me how to paint” I reply, nodding happily. As the minutes turn into hours and his painting progresses, we keep talking, about everything and nothing. It felt easy to talk to him, no not easy, right. Soon enough, I knew him like he'd been my friend for years. While we talk, his eyes tend to stay on the painting but sometimes they glide over to me, snapping back to the painting seconds later. In what felt like a short period of time, yet was a few hours, the painting was finished.

“Are you ready? If I'm honest, I'm a little nervous but if it's bad, blame it on the fact I couldn't paint for the past few months.” he admitted with a nervous chuckle, grabbing the canvas and hesitantly turning it towards me.

‘wow’

That's it. That's the only thought that went through my head as my eyes met themselves on the canvas. It's so beautiful and…

“Well? What do you think?” he urges nervously. I suddenly notice his hands trembling slightly and his eyes watching me intensely. He always seems so confident, yet I can see the fear in his eyes now.

“It's so… It's stunning… I'm speechless” I reply, looking him in the eyes quickly before turning back to the painting. The painting looked so realistic, my light curly brown hair and pale green eyes standing out against my pale skin, there is only one alteration. Instead of the freckles that normally sprinkle my face, are little stars. They're beautiful, shining like the stars I can now see from the window.

“Your freckles, they're beautiful, they look like the stars in the night sky. I thought I should paint them as such… They're like little beacons of hope and friendship, when I walked into that shop, I never thought I'd make a new friend, and well, thank you for giving me hope.” Sirius looks at me, his eyes sparkling with the same hope he was talking off. As I look at him, straight into his eyes, I feel a smile reach my lips, knowing my eyes have the same sparkle in them. And as our eyes dig deeper into one another, as we share a smile of happiness of who we found, the minutes slow, as though this moment was frozen in time, which I wish could be the case. Suddenly, we both break eye contact, as though embarrassed by the connection we'd both felt in that second. We both look back up to the painting, our eyes meeting again for a second, causing my face to heat a little. I slowly lift myself out of my seat, taking a step towards the painting to get a closer view of the talent etched on the canvas in front of me.

“It's- it's really stunning” I mutter, still speechless, taking yet another step forward. As I slowly edge forward, I notice something, something that had escaped me at first glance, as it usually escapes others' attention. A thin scar, tracing along the bridge of my freckled nose. Freckles which usually hide it, making it hardly noticeable, especially at first glance. A scar that had been given to me when I was only five, by an overexcited grey dog at the park. It's claw had scratched against the skin of my nose, after it had ambushed me. It had left me with a gash, one that never properly healed and could now be observed under the shape of a scar. This scar. The one he had noticed, when no one else had.

“You got my scar” I whisper in amazement. I slowly reach out to touch it, feeling like all that matters now, is this single detail. A small detail yet seeing it there had given me hope. At the last second, I pull my arm back, like an instinct, and, remembering the paint is still wet, I drop my hand to my side.

“Of course I got it, how could I miss it?” as his voice reaches my ears, I glance to my left to find him standing next to me, admiring the same spot as I was. Him. The man who, right now, felt like a dream come true. We both turn to face one another at the same second, almost as though we're in tune with one another. I find myself getting lost in his stormy grey eyes again, knowing that he was looking straight back into my emerald green ones. For a moment, there's no movement, we both stand there in silence, our eyes sparkling at each other, knowing that this is right. A shadow suddenly masks one of his eyes and I understand that a lock of his hair escaped his small bun. I watch it sway slightly before I instinctively take a step forward, closing what little distance is left between us, and reach out. I mark a pause, waiting to see if he'll reject the movement, but nothing happens. Carefully, I grab the small lock of hair and delicately brush it behind his ear.

As I hesitantly move my hand away, Sirius lets out a low throaty laugh, and I suddenly feel compelled to do something I'd never dreamed of. Instead of pulling my hand back, I instinctively slide it down to the back of his neck, cradling it carefully in my hand, and lean forward, closing the distance between us centimetre after centimetre until we collide. It was a short kiss but our movements were coordinated perfectly.

We pull away, almost reluctantly, and I watch his face quickly turn a deep crimson, knowing mine isn’t much better. I watch his eyes, like two storms lost in the middle of all this redness.

“That was… something” my eyes move down, as I utter these two words, as though expecting them to close the distance again. Our faces were still within centimetres of one another, making me struggle not to kiss them again.

“Something utterly spectacular” Sirius laughs breathlessly, intensifying my impulse to lean in again.

The room falls silent again, as I continue to watch the slight quiver on his lips. The only disturbance in the otherwise perfect silence is the sound of light rain splashing against the window and pavement along with our shallow breathing.

For a long while, we stand there, gazing quietly into each other's eyes, not uttering a single word, yet I feel complete, everything I need is right here, in front of me. This man, who has the most luscious hair, elegance and grace radiating from his unpolished appearance, a mischievous yet friendly glint in his eye, who is staring up at me with those mercury eyes.

And in that second, I feel certain that this is where I belong. That being with Sirius is right.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

bao | myg | 1

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Min Yoongi is always late to start work. He’s late in starting a lot of things. Like telling you he loves you.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of parental injury/surgery; it’s actually SO MUCH fluff; non-idol!AU; (slightly) jealous deliveryboy!Yoongi x hardworking chef!reader ft. bao fiend, next-door neighbor, model!Taehyung; Yoongi gets injured T_T

it’s Weverse magazine Yoongi; can’t be helped he looked too good and yes it’s another fic revolving around food like mango | jjk (less dark this time lmao), guess that’s my schtick now

-

Men in leather jackets?

Yes.

Men who liked to wear silver rings?

Double yes.

Men whose name was Min Yoongi?

Fuck, no.

But, unfortunately, Min Yoongi was both of the first two things, when annoyed you to no end. You could hate Min Yoongi, easy, if he wasn’t attractive, but the truth was that he was very attractive, with his dark hair, cat-like eyes that were the color of black coffee, large pale hands, silver earrings, silver bracelets, and raspy deep voice.

The infuriating thing was, he was always late.

“Sorry,” he apologized for the billionth time. “I had to do something.”

You always have to do something, you thought, pursing your lips as you pushed the paper bags towards him. Each one was stapled with a small piece of paper, indicating the address and complete order of the patron.

“I’m going to fire you if you’re late again,” you warned.

Yoongi grinned as he gathered the bags. He had pretty white teeth too. Fuck. You even liked seeing his stupid teeth. The fuck was wrong with you?

“Nah, you won’t fire me. I’m your favorite delivery boy.”

“You’re my only delivery boy,” you shot back as he retreated.

“Thus, being your favorite,” he chuckled, out the back door once again.

You sighed deeply as you watched the black leather depart. He was wearing black jeans today that showed off his long legs, with a tear in the right knee. Why did he have to look so good? And why was he always late? It was very annoying. You checked your phone, texting your father, asking how he was today.

-

You spent all day taking orders and prepping them for Yoongi to deliver. In between, you continued making buns of all kinds, from savory pork buns to sweet red bean buns. You father owned a small Chinese-style bao shop, but since his back surgery, he hadn’t been able to work for a while. Your mother was taking care of him and complaining quite a bit about having another baby, except this one was bigger and more demanding and sounded way too much like your father.

You just laughed through the phone as your dad asked for more water and a foot massage.

Being their only daughter, you naturally had some experience making bao, but actually running the business was much harder. You weren’t sure how your dad did it all these years to be honest. There used to be a counter where people could drop by and pick up a bun for their lunch break, but the person who worked at that counter used to be your mother or you, and that wasn’t happening if you were making them all day. You weren’t as fast making them as your father either.

Therefore, the small shop ended up being converted to delivery only, and your only delivery boy was late to arrive all the damn time.

Okay, he wasn’t a delivery boy per se, because he was definitely an adult man, but he might as well have been a boy with how often you scolded him about being late. At least he was good at delivering the actual orders on time.

You heard a knock at the back door and scooped up two steaming roast pork buns, brushing the excess flour off your hands before opening the door.

A bright, jovial, boxy smile greeted you.

“Hey!”

Your only exception to delivery only. Kim Taehyung, your next-door neighbor.

You handed him the pork buns and he handed you some bills.

“Keep the change,” he grinned, biting into the bun and gasping a little at the heat. “Mmm, delicious as always.”

You chuckled. “You need to learn how to cook for yourself.”

He pouted, chewing noisily. “Ugh, it’s so hard. Teach me.”

You rolled your eyes. “I tried. You burned it somehow. I don’t even know how that’s possible.”

He shrugged. “I’m better at watching anyway.”

You looked over his attire. A brown suit with a cream t-shirt, green silk scarf around his neck. His hair was dark brown again. “What are you advertising today?” Taehyung was a model. Sometimes you saw him on billboards or ads in the supermarket.

Taehyung shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m going to the agency right now.” He held up the buns. “But I gotta eat first because it’s gonna be long day.”

You chuckled. “Better go before your manager calls.”

As if on cue, a colorful tune erupted from Taehyung’s pants, chirping loudly. Taehyung shoved one of the buns entirely into his mouth and spoke around it, words muffled.

“Ugh, thanks again. Let’s hang out when I can!” he called as he ran off, snatching his phone from his pocket, mumbling into it as he chewed.

You smiled ruefully, watching him hurry away. “Yeah, like that will ever happen.”

Taehyung was far too busy to hang out with you. You were surprised he still lived in the same apartment complex you did, because he made decent money now, but he said it was because his dog Yeontan didn’t like change and his parents lived nearby so he could drop him off there when he was working.

“Your boyfriend or something?”

You suddenly noticed Yoongi standing next to the door. You jumped back, staring at him. He raised an eyebrow.

“How long have you been there?”

Yoongi shrugged. “As long as you’ve been making googly eyes at him.”

You frowned. “I’m not making googly eyes at Taehyung.”

Yoongi smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Ah, he has a name. And no honorifics. Very suspicious, if you ask me.”

Nobody asked you! You wondered if he needed both arms to deliver food, because you were pretty close to breaking at least one of them. Surely, he could drive one-handed? You were a bit disturbed on how imagining that seemed somewhat attractive to you.

“He’s my next-door neighbor,” you huffed, turning on your heel and going back into the shop to pack more orders for Yoongi.

“Next door to you puss–”

You spun around and shoved a pork bun into Yoongi’s mouth. He nearly choked, grabbing it as you let go, his fingertips brushing against yours for a moment. A strange tingle travelled through your palm, going up your arm. You ignored it, purposefully slipping buns into paper packages for an order for a local office nearby.

“It’s your lunchtime anyway,” you said impassively, not looking at him.

If you did, you would have noticed the pink tinge on Yoongi’s cheeks, the furrow in his brows as he chewed on the bun, watching you. You would have noticed the way his jaw seemed to be tense, thinking about what he just saw, holding tightly to the pork bun.

-

Yoongi knew you were the one who made it. It tasted great, almost as good as your father’s. He knew your father well, having been the on-and-off delivery boy through the years, from high school to university to now. Being an underground music producer didn’t make him a ton of money, but he didn’t care too much. If he was more popular, he would have to quit.

And he really didn’t want to quit, because he was staring at your back, hoping one day you’d notice he was watching you.

He knew who Kim Taehyung was. Taehyung came every day. Maybe even for the same reason as him. He never interrupted your interactions with Taehyung before, because it seemed rude. They were always short anyway. But, of course, Taehyung noticed you were alone now, and Taehyung had been dressing nicer, looking cuter, flirting more and more. Yoongi doubted you noticed, but it still bothered him all the same.

Yoongi sighed inwardly as he picked up another bun. You shot him a glare but he shrugged.

“Might make me taller,” was his response.

You raised your eyebrows. “You want to be a fucking skyscraper or something?”

He bit into it. Fucking delicious. “Maybe.”

Truth was, he just didn’t want to stop eating them because you made them.

Yoongi wanted to pretend you made them just for him.

-

"What's this?"

"Pork and leek bao. Tell me what you think."

Yoongi took a small bite, chewing thoughtfully. "Light flavor, but nice."

"Too greasy?" you pried.

"Mm, little bit."

You sighed. "Hm, okay, won't sell them then. I'll have to eat them myself."

Yoongi looked at the huge tray of freshly streamed buns.

"I can help."

"Wait for them to cool and then you can pack however much you want," you said absentmindedly, off to wash the pots. "You have a steamer at home?"

"Mhm."

He looked good today too, still in his black leather jacket and black jeans, different loose gray shirt. Almost cute with the way he was chomping on the steamed bun, his cheeks filling and becoming round. 

Too bad he couldn't be punctual to save his life, you thought, violently scrubbing the metal clean. 

-

Yoongi sat in his studio, holding one of the pork and leek bao you had given him. He stored them in his freezer and streamed them periodically when he was at his desk. Easy, quick meal that had very little mess. 

He chewed on it. 

He should have told you to sell them. 

But he also liked having his freezer full of bao that you had made. You probably would have given him some of he asked, but Yoongi felt bad asking because he knew how hard you worked. They should be for customers, not him. 

He sat back in his chair, taking bites slowly, savoring them. Salty pork with the mild flavor of fresh leek, a little black bean to add a hint of nuttiness, grounding the greasy nature of the meat. Made by your own two hands, your hard work, day in and day out, trying to make up for the absence of your father.

He really should stop being late.

Then again.

Yoongi was always late because he was always working on music and when he wasn't working on music, he was oversleeping his work alarms.

It wasn't until you had gone to university that he realized how much he missed you and your presence at the bao shop. You were smart. Had a Biochemistry degree and everything. Yoongi couldn't make heads or tails of science, so that alone was impressive to him. But you hadn't been able to get a job in your field because your father’s back pain got worse and worse, until he had to get surgery. Now it meant you did everything and, while it pained him to watch you working so hard, secretly he was a little glad that he could see you every day. 

He felt ashamed for thinking that way, because your father had surgery for a misaligned disc and Yoongi didn't wish that on anyone.

His eyes shifted to his computer. 

He hasn't dropped his mixtape for a lot of reasons. One, what if no one liked it? All of his hard work, ignored? Or, what if everyone liked it? What if he made it big? 

Could he handle that?

He didn't know. He wasn't very good with people.

Who was he? A nobody. Yoongi doubted your parents would be happy if the fucking delivery boy wanted to marry you. They were nice people, but of course they wanted better for you. That's why they worked so hard to put you through school to the point of your father's back literally breaking. 

Maybe it would be better if you dated Taehyung. It seemed like he made a reasonable amount of money considering his clothes. He was handsome too. Yoongi saw Taehyung's face at the local supermarket sometimes. His own face would never be in supermarkets. No one would pick up a coffee with his face on it over Taehyung's. 

Yoongi ate the last bite of bao bitterly and returned to his music. 

-

"You're even later than usual today!"

"I'm sorry. I'll grab the orders right away."

"And why are you wearing this stupid hat? It's unprofessional–"

You attempted to grab the black baseball cap off of Yoongi's head, but he dodged you. He seemed more aloof than usual today, but you barely noticed in your irritation as you clicked your tongue and grabbed his leather jacket, yanking him towards you and pulling the cap off.

Three things happened at once. 

Yoongi's body collided into yours. 

He painfully gasped into your neck, turning your skin burning hot with his breath. 

And third, your eyes widened as you realized Yoongi had a black eye.

You barely even noticed the first two things because you were staring at the fair skin around his right eye tinged with rings of purple-red. You released him and he backed up away from you, wincing. 

"What happened?" you asked in a stunned voice. 

Yoongi narrowed his eyes and tried to grab his hat, but you moved it behind your back, eyes glued to his bruise.

"Yoongi, tell me what happened."

You saw him pause. If you weren't so fixated on the actual black eye, you would have noticed his expression change from annoyance, to bitterness, to realization. Your tone was not angry. You were genuinely worried, to the point you felt strangely emotional, like you were going to cry. 

"It's nothing," Yoongi mumbled. "I'm fine. It only looks bad."

Your eyes locked with his. Those dark orbs did not want to say anything. They wanted you to treat it like no big deal, or yell at him some more for being late, anything but address his black eye. 

"Please tell me what happened," you said quietly. 

Yoongi sighed, rubbing the back of his head. Usually his black hair was styled, but it was messy and flat from being under the cap. 

"I did something stupid," he finally replied. "I trusted people. And I got scammed."

You waited. Yoongi shuffled his feet and continued. 

"I produce and make music. I mixed a guy's entire album and when I asked for payment, they told me I was getting paid with exposure," he spat, as if the word itself was disgusting. "I was already in a shitty mood. So I punched him."

"You did what?" 

"I punched him," Yoongi repeated coolly. He shrugged. "There were three other guys so I punched them too."

"Y... Yoongi!"

"What?" he snapped. "They fucking deserved it."

"You can't go around punching people!"

"Yeah." He pointed to his black eye. "Sometimes they punch back."

You stared at him before you held out his cap. He took it from you and crammed it back on his head. 

"Yoongi, go home."

He paused. Then he chuckled, straightening. "What are you taking about?" He changed his tone, making to more lighthearted and teasing. He gestured behind you, to the brown paper bags waiting. "I have deliveries to make."

"I'll do them."

You stood in front of the bags, blocking him. Yoongi frowned. 

"You have food to make."

"Yoongi," you said softly. "Go home and recover. You probably didn't get much sleep last night. I can see your dark circles."

He chuckled, the noise dying in his throat as he looked at your serious expression. 

"I always have dark circles."

"I don't want you to get in an accident because of sleep deprivation."

"I won't get into an accident," Yoongi said impatiently. He tried to move around you, but you and your flour-covered apron blocked him. 

"I don't want you to get hurt."

The way you said it stopped him. You thought of your father, laying in the hospital, doctors and nurses trying to make sure he was okay after the surgery. Yoongi could see it in your eyes. He sighed. 

"Look, it's just a couple bruises. I did this to myself," he mumbled. His eyes shifted from side to side before they came back to you. "I need to make money. I'm short on rent because of this."

"Then I'll pay you," you insisted. "You need to rest."

You suddenly realized Yoongi was very close to you now, looking down at you from under his black baseball cap. His chest was almost touching your chest. The scent of leather and pine cologne filled your nose, vastly different from your dusty flour-covered self. His cat-like eyes were on you, expression unreadable.

"This is my rest," Yoongi said quietly. "Helping you deliver orders is the least stressful part of my day."

For a long moment, you didn't move. You weren't sure if it was because you were still worried or because Yoongi was so close and it felt weird all of a sudden, as if you recalled the way his body hit yours earlier and the way his breath tickled your skin. 

You moved away and Yoongi collected the bags, careful not to drop them. You always ordered them so they were from first to last delivery, maximizing efficiency and order number. He made his way to the back door, using his back to open it. 

You spoke again, voice nearly cracking.

"Please don't get hurt."

Yoongi looked up from under his black cap, expressionless. You expected him to give you a snarky remark as usual. 

"I won't."

He headed out. 

-

2.

--

masterpost

[vs-redemption]

Omg can I get scenarios about how you think Fatgum and Mirio would react if they found out that their crush thought they didn’t like them?? 😭😭 ty!!!!! ❤️

From Cindy: Wowzer! I really liked this request but it took me a couple days to get some ideas worked out in my head. I’m happy with the way they turned out, and I hope you are too anon!!

A Crush?! (Fatgum x Reader) and (Mirio x Reader)

FATGUM

When Taishiro Toyomitsu first opened his hero agency in the lively city of Osaka, his first priority had been to hire a cook to work there. Because his quirk relied heavily on the amount of fat stored up in his body, it was important to have a constant source of food available. Snacks and small meals between and during patrols did little to keep him fully powered, so finding someone who could meet his extreme dietary needs was of the upmost importance.

The first few people he’d brought onto his team hadn’t worked out so well. Even though he had no complaints about their food, they just couldn’t seem to keep up with his immense appetite. They got too caught up in the presentation, plus the portions were just too small. When the BMI hero finally hired you right out of culinary school, he was relieved to find your approach to his food conundrum much more satisfying.

He never had to worry about going hungry when he got into his agency anymore. Not only did you made sure there was plenty of food readily available for him, but you also kept his diet balanced with healthy foods that contained enough calories to fatten him up for his patrols. The food itself kept Taishiro’s stomach happy and full, but the effort and care you put into your work definitely started having an effect on his heart too after a while. Your dedication to keeping him in top shape drew his attention until he found himself starting to look forward more to seeing and talking to you than even eating your delicious food.

Taishiro wasn’t the type to lie to himself about his feelings. He knew perfectly well that he’d developed a little crush on you. He wasn’t exactly sure how to go about confessing though, or if he even should. His schedule didn’t leave much time for dating, and he didn’t want to start something if he wasn’t going to be able to dote on you the way he was starting to desperately want to.

Little did he know, on the other side of things, you were struggling to deal with the feelings you had for him too. You had always thought your boss was a nice guy, but after seeing his jolly and friendly behavior every day, you couldn’t help the crush that had creeped up on you. You tried your best to put it out of your mind, assuming there was no way a great hero like Taishiro could return your feelings. It wasn’t as if he did anything to make you feel otherwise. He was as kind and encouraging to you as anyone else you’d seen him interact with. It was just that you knew the nature of your job made your personality come off a bit too overbearing to really spark a romance. You constantly berated yourself after each and every interaction you had with him, physically cringing as you remembered the nagging comments you’d made.

“I know you need the calories for your quirk, Taishiro, but don’t forget to eat some fruits and vegetables too.”

“Eat another bowl of rice, Taishiro. You never know when you’ll need that little extra push when fighting a villain.”

“Taishiro, don’t forget to take the leftovers with you in case you get hungry out there! It’s better for you than all that street food you’re always picking up on patrol.”

When you thought about it, you really pestered him way too much. Sure, it was your job to feed him, but still, he was a grown man. He didn’t need you bothering or lecturing like he was some kind of kid. The only reason you even acted the way you did was because you cared and worried about him, but how it came across was probably annoying and patronizing. This is why you were confident he’d never like you the way you liked him.

Eventually, the combination of your feelings for him and the concern over his impression of you becomes too much and you decide to confront him. You get to the agency early one day and make him some fresh jelly filled donuts.

“Hey! You hardly ever make stuff like this!” Taishiro chuckles, “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s my way of saying thank you for putting up with me,” you shrug awkwardly. “I know I’m a bit of a nag sometimes.” Your words take the hero by surprise.

“I don’t think you’re a nag at all!” He sounded upset to hear you say that. “I hope I never gave you the idea that I did.”

“No,” you shake your head. “You didn’t… I just figured you were nice to me just to be polite.”

“What?” Taishiro shakes his head, “You couldn’t be further from the truth. If I’m being honest, I’ve actually developed quite the soft spot for you.” You look up into his eyes, a feeling of hope spreading through you.

“Yeah,” Taishiro laughs and scratches the back of his head bashfully. “I guess you could say I have a bit of a crush on you.” The conversation had definitely taken an unexpected turn, and you couldn’t be happier.

“I…” You hesitate for a moment but then give in. “I have a crush on you too! I have for a while. I never dreamed you could feel the same way.” The smile that stretched across the hero’s face warmed your heart.

“How could I not feel the same way?” He chuckles while patting his large belly. “I’ve never met anyone else who could keep both my stomach and my heart so full.” His words were music to your ears. And now that you both were on the same page about your feelings, you could sit down together and start discussing important questions about the future, like where he was going to take you on your first date.

 MIRIO

 Getting a job as a server at the mundane little diner on the outskirts of town had only meant to be a temporary gig to help you save up some extra money for school. Your campus was just a short train ride from the restaurant, and your apartment was even closer. It wasn’t glamorous or anything, but it paid the bills. Besides, it was just a stepping stone in the path to your dream job, so you were more than willing to deal with it until a bigger more fulfilling opportunity came along.

 What you hadn’t expected after starting the job was that you’d be terrible at it. You didn’t realized how bad your short term memory was until you found yourself forgetting people’s orders, or taking meals to the wrong tables. If that wasn’t bad enough, you also had a hard time balancing plates of food and were always dropping glasses and silverware accidentally. Luckily, your boss was a pretty chill and forgiving person and hadn’t felt the need to fire you yet. You really didn’t want to go through the trouble of finding another job, so you continued doing the best you could each and every day.

A few weeks after being hired, you started to feel the tiniest bit more confident about your abilities as a server. At the very least, you were getting better at remembering orders. Thankfully, there were a lot of regulars that got the same things every time which made your job easier. You were just starting to get into a comfortable routine when life decided to throw you a curveball. There was no way you could stop yourself from tripping over your own feet and almost spilling some poor customers breakfast all over the floor when you saw the pro hero, Le Million, walk into the diner with one of his hero friends. Thankfully you managed not to fall on your face or drop any food. Your relief was short lived, however, when Le Million walked right over and took a seat at a table in your section.

You knew it was going to be a disaster as soon as you walked over and forgot what you should even do. Being so close to Le Million was triggering a meltdown in your brain. He was your favorite hero and you honestly had a huge crush on him. Having him looking right at you with those cheerful blue eyes and wide friendly smile was extremely overwhelming.

“Uh…” You stood there blankly with the pen and pad in your hand.

“I think we’re going to start with something to drink!” Le Million speaks up with a light laugh which sparks you back to life.

“Ok, right!” you shake your head and try to focus. “What’ll you have?”

“I’ll have coffee,” he says before gesturing to his companion. “I think you usually take hot green tea right?” The friend nods so you write the order down.

“A hot green tea and a coffee for Le Million,” you mumble without meaning to.

“Oh, I’m on my lunch break!” he corrects you with a grin. “So, you can call me Mirio.”

“Right,” you nod excitedly. “Mirio”

You do your best to function as you continue to serve him. You somehow bring black tea instead of green, but Mirio just waves off the mistake with a wave of his hand. You swear you write down the correct order for him word for word, but humiliation consumes you when his friend points out that there were tomatoes on his hamburger even though he’d asked for none. You offer to bring him a new plate but he tells you it’s unnecessary. He doesn’t even pick off the tomatoes before taking a huge bite.

When Mirio and his friend finally leave, you feel yourself deflate. You were thankful the embarrassing experience was over, but part of you wished you’d made a better impression. The universe must’ve been out for you because the next day, it decided to grace you with a second chance. Mirio walked back into your diner with his friend, taking the same table as the day before. You tried to do a better job at serving him this time but you still fumbled a few things. This continued for a few weeks. For some reason, Mirio kept coming back and sitting in your section. You had no idea why since he must be sick of your horrible service by now. You tried to think of a logical explanation for a while, but always came up empty.

“Um, Mirio,” you tell him one day as he hands you the money to pay for his bill. “I know I’m not the best server in the world, so you don’t have to sit in my section every time.”

“But then I wouldn’t get to talk to you!” Mirio replies instantly, looking taken aback by your words.

“Oh,” you hadn’t expected a response like that. “But I always mess up your order.”

“That’s all right!” Mirio perks back up, “As long as you keep doing your best, that’s what matters! Plus, I’ve been sort of biding my time, looking for the right moment to ask for your number. I think you’re really cute.” He winces a little bit as if preparing for rejection. The confession startles you and you somehow end up missing his hand while giving back his change, causing coins to scatter across the counter. Mirio just smiles and helps you pick it all up.

“I can really give you my number?” you ask in shock once the money is back in his hands.

“Yeah!” He assures you, “As long as I’m allowed to call it!” You felt yourself blush, but managed to stay calm enough to grab a napkin and scribble your number down. Mirio thanked you before heading out with his hero friend to go back on patrol. It was less than a minute later when your phone buzzed in your pocket with a message from your hero crush.

It said, “I can’t wait to see you again tomorrow!”

You’re still in a state of shock as you hug your phone to your chest. You’d initially taken the diner job as a way to save money for school, but maybe fate had brought you here for something else entirely.

[hermit-god-au-pog]

[OLD AND MAY BECOME NON-CANON LATER ON] Got some short stories for ya’ll!

After much struggle i managed to think of some more lore based prompts for some short stories! They’ll be under the cut!

One of a conversation between Helsknight and EvilXisuma, the other of an interaction between TFC and GeminiTay! What can i say im a sucker for these two. The stuff is only slightly proof-read by myself so sorry for any mistakes in grammer or if things sound weird lol

Anyway, I hope ya’ll enjoy! And if i need to add any tw’s just say! I dont think i will though! Long post under the cut though

EX&Hels have a conversation

“So let me get this straight,” Helsknight sat up in his seat and leaned on the table between the two” You’re not considered a hels hermit at all?” Evil Xisuma rolls his eyes but chuckles at the other, he doesn’t blame him for not knowing, hell the only ones who probably knew were him and Grian’s little buddies.

“No, I am not a hels hermit like you. But, I work very similarly. Me personally, I’m the axolotl’s evil clone according to my code. But, and I can’t speak for the others, I still fill up the role of why a hels is created.” Helsknight slowly blinked at the other and rose an eyebrow.

“What is that supposed to mean exactly?” Evil X let out a snort at the other’s question.

“Well basically, Hels exist for one reason, to keep the gods, or hermits as we know them, in check. Granted they’re all too nice to do anything we’d do, but the point still stands. Hels are here to counteract the hermits, and the Axolotl doesn’t have a hels per say because I exist. But that’s not stopping the void from making a hels version if need be.” Helsknight leaned back and crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at Evil X.

“Ok, so because you already existed, the void didn’t make a counterpart for the admin. But what do you mean it could make another? Why would we need a third Xisuma?” Evil X tapped his chin as he thinks of what he should say.

“Well, let’s just say the void has already planned for that” Helsknight could feel the shit-eating grin the other was giving him. But Evil X gestures to another person in the room. Helsknight, begrudgingly, decided to look, and see’s what the other was talking about. There was a turtle Xisuma sitting at a bar, but he looked almost vacant, like an NPC almost.

“Now, I’ve never talked to that guy, and based on the interactions they’ve had with others, he’s entirely just a placeholder, an NPC ready to be coded into action.” Helsknight turned back to Evil X who was looking at him now.”But unless something happens to me, I keep the role of a ‘hels counterpart’ even though I’m not a hels.” Blinking, helsknight picked up his drink, downing the rest of its contents, this was a very weird conversation they were having but, informative. Then something struck him.

“You said something about others earlier” Evil X feigned innocence and confusion, making helsknight growl.

“Earlier this conversation! You said ‘ But, and I can’t speak for the others, I still fill up the role of why a hels is created’. There are others who aren’t technically hels hermits on the server?” Evil X snorted then started laughing. Helsknight slammed his hands on the table and stood up.

“No! I’m serious! Who the hell are the others?!” After Evil X got done with his laughing fit, he pretended to wipe away some tears.

“You really are dense my friend” before the other could reply, Evil X continued” The only ones I personally know of, are actually Grian’s-”

“You said that using plurals, does Grian seriously have 2?” Helsknight looked at the other bewildered as he nodded.

“Indeed he does my friend. I don’t entirely understand it myself. One calls themself NpcGrian, or NPG for short, the other one calls themself Robot Grian or RG for short. And between us, RG is definitely the eviler and smarter one of the two. He’s probably the one considered the hels version.” Helsknight slumped back in his seat and rubbed his temple, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Alright, to get away from that confusing topic, you said hels were made to counter the gods?” Evil X nodded.

“Yee-p” popping the p at the end, Evil X leaned forward.” All the gods being together in one space can be seen as quite a dangerous predicament, and if they ever decided to team up and rise up for some reason, no one would know before it’s too late. So to try and stop that, keep the gods on their toes and aware, the hels were made. You were one of the first to become sentient and seek out your counterpart actually”

Helsknight looked at the other for a moment then realized something. Something that didn’t settle right with him.

“How do you know all of this information? I’m pretty sure not even Xisuma knows this crap.” Hels rose an eyebrow as the other’s expression got darker behind the mask he wore.

“Let’s just say, being locked in the void for ages gives you some free time. And the ability to look through your and your clone’s codes, even though I was never able to edit them.” Huh, well that made sense.

TFC helps Gem out/aka being a god is overwhelming

    Sometimes, to really appreciate the world you live in, you just gotta walk around. Taking in the sights of what the world holds and what your fellow hermits have made. And honestly, TFC is usually blown away by how talented the hermits are. He may not be much of a builder himself, but he’s happy they’ve kept him along the way nonetheless. Little ol’ miner TFC, walking amongst godly builders, figuratively and literally.

    Sometimes on TFC’s walks, he’ll come across other hermits, not often, but it’s always pleasant when he does. TFC admits, he should get out to talk to the others more, but he can’t help it. The mines make him feel at home. But today, walking into one of the newer hermits areas, he had a bad feeling in his gut.

    Deciding to stray from the path TFC decided to look around the area, a bit more in dept. And low and behold, once getting close to one of the new hermits custom trees, he heard soft, stifled crying. Like they were trying to cover it up. Eyes softening, TFC went over to the home next to this wonderful tree and knocked, before letting himself peek inside.

    GeminiTay sat in the corner, her head snapped up and it was obvious how overwhelmed and tired she looked. TFC gave a slight smile and walked inside, closing the door gently. Gemini watched tensely as TFC walked over, his pickaxe he used as a cane clicking with every step. But, TFC sat down next to her and softly asked.

    “Would physical touch help this situation or worsen it?” Seeing Gemini’s tears starting to well up more, TFC opened his arms, offering her a safe space. And she took it. Gemini scrambled to get up and hug the other. She didn’t know why his presence felt so...comforting, but it did, and once she started the hug, the floodgates were let loose. She couldn’t hold back her tears even if she tried.

    TFC held the young girl close, gently rubbing circles into her back as her whole frame shook and twitched. TFC did notice the leaves that moved like butterflies flying about in the home. He semi-watched them as he comforted the hermit in his arms, taking notes on the situation.

    Once TFC heard the girls’ cries soften and as her body became less shaky, he decided to start talking.

    “I understand if you’re too overwhelmed to talk right now, but was this panic caused by some aspect of your godly nature?” TFC waited patiently, and when he felt a soft nod on his shoulder he let out a little sigh.

    “You are one of the newest gods in general, not even to the server, have you been taught anything more than the basics yet?” a small shake of her head.”So you’re not yet in tune with who you are and the powers you possess, and due to that, something within you snapped, and you started hearing noises or voices, am I correct?” TFC could feel Gem tense like he had just read her mind, but she gave a soft nod. TFC looked around at the leaf butterflies, more seem to have gathered.

    “Are the voices still present? Have they gotten any louder or more intense?” With the soft nod, TFC was starting to understand a bit more. Gently sitting Gemini up, he made the corner they were in into a cozy one full of blankets and pillows. 

    Gemini then watched, rubbing her slightly puffed-up eyes, as TFC started to gather the leaf butterflies. Once he got a good amount he gently set them free outside. And the more he let go, the less overwhelmed Gemini felt. Once most of the creatures were out TFC made his way back over and sat across from Gemini.

    “Ready to talk?” Gemini nodded, sniffling and wiping away any stray tears. Taking a deep breath Gemini starts talking.

    “So...So I was just doing my normal routine, today I decided to do some enchanting. But then my tree, my /tree/ started talking to me and I got confused. So I went over and put a hand on the tree.”Gemini paused, breath hitching again. TFC gently held one of her hands, reassuring her to take her time. After catching her breath, Gem continued.

    “And..And then I...And then I heard all these voices and cries. Some were asking me for help, some were..thanking me? Some were crying, some cheering...But they all came at once and I couldn’t shut them off. Then I started hearing more despair than anything else and I... I couldn’t do it. My body got all fuzzy! And my eyes got blurry but different from tear blur. I felt my body...change. And so I ran in here. And I only started to feel my body go back to normal shortly before you came..” Gem panted softly when she was done, her tears back and starting to fall again. She was looking down at her feet.

    But when she felt a soft big hand on her cheek, whipping away her tears, she looked up. TFC gave her a gentle smile, a reassuring one, and, it honestly helped her more than she would have thought.

    “That my dear was your body being forced into its godly form. Every god has one, but most prefer not to be in them, as they can be taxing after long uses. But they’re nothing to be afraid of. You just went into it unwillingly.” Gemini nods softly, following along so far.”And if you would like, I can help you learn how to go into it and out of it, at will. I’ll do it with you.”

Gemini thought about it for a while. She didn’t know how long, but TFC never rushed her into deciding, only waiting patiently, giving her time to think. But, if she learned how to control that form, maybe it would be less frightening if this ever happened again. Gem then looked at TFC and gave a quick nod.

“Yea, ok. I, I want to learn how to control this...godly form of mine. But you’ll do it with me right?” TFC nodded and scooted so that they bot sat criss-cross, knees touching each other. TFC then gently held both of her hands.

“Ok, to start off with, think of why you became a god, and what you’re the god of. Think of what that means to you.” Gem nodded, closing her eyes as she held TFC’s hands. Furrowing her brows a bit Gemini thought.

Thought of the event that lead her to be a god, why she did what she did. She thought of what that event meant to her and why she would do it again. And she felt the tension in her shoulders released. Gem then thought of what it meant to be the goddess of the forest, what the responsibility and future actions might hold for her.

“Good, you’re doing great” TFC’s voice rang through her ears.”Now hold onto that feeling, clutch onto it, cherish it. Once you’ve done that, let go. Let yourself feel your body change, let it morph and melt into something new.”

Taking one more deep breath, Gem followed his instructions. The feeling her ‘job’ gave her, the hope she had for herself, and so on, she held it close to her heart, and let herself stop caring about the mortal plane for a bit. And she felt herself change. Like what happened earlier, but less jarring and harsh. She felt her body almost melt, felt it slither around while being on one spot. The feeling wasn’t unpleasant like it was before. It felt like shifting over in bed, something familiar.

“There we go, you’ve done it, you can open your eyes.” Cautiously, Gem opened her eyes, and instead of being met with the soft grandpa from before, there was a whole new person. They looked like TFC but also now. They had more sharp edges and the particles of different ores around them were very present, and they radiated the energy of a god. He reached over and cupped her cheek.

“How do you feel?” Gemini thinks, she looked down at her new self, realizing how much bigger the two were now. She looked at all the leaf butterflies, not being as scared of them now. She felt power coursing through her, the whispered of the plants and tree’s outside. But now that she’s not in her panicked state, it was a lot more comforting. Gem felt a soft smile form over their lips. Looking up at TFC she felt warmth in her chest.

“Now that I’m not panicking, it feels nice. It feels warm, and I feel stronger.” TFC nods, looking pleased.

“Now, let’s go back to normal shall we?” Gem nods and puts her head down, closing her eyes again.

“Now, recognize your form, recognize the power coursing through you. Hold that feeling, and imagine yourself tucking it away for later. Let yourself relax and let your body morph once more” And once again, Gem tried her best to follow along.

And next time she opened her eyes, the normal TFC sat in front of her. Looking down at herself, Gem saw her she was back to normal. Smiling Gem leaped up to hug TFC. Hugging back TFC gently pet her hair.

“Now, let’s get you to bed, You need some rest after all that. Tomorrow we’ll talk more about this stuff ok?” 

And with that, TFC and Gem got comfy in the small comfort fort TFC had made and Gem fell asleep. During the afternoon Bdubs came to see gem, but finding her and TFC sleeping, he just smiled fondly and closed the door quietly. Informing the server not to disturb the two for the rest of the night and left the sleeping duo to rest

[maxismatchccworld]

Patch Notes

PC:1.69.54.1020 / Mac: 1.69.54.1220 Console: Version 1.35 Happy Holidays Simmers! It’s time to go back in to Create a Sim! Where in this update you will find 100+ new skin tones, customization sliders for skin tones and makeup, and three improved base game hairstyles! Every skin tone now has a value slider that allows you to change the light to dark value of that skin tone, unlocking a much wider variety of skin tone options for you to play with! You will also find that our skin tones are now filterable to warm, cool, and neutral tones (as well as miscellaneous that covers our occult skin tones).

The new makeup sliders add more choices and opportunities for you to customize your Sims, and express your Sim’s style! Hue, saturation, value or brightness, and opacity are now available to modify on the makeup. We have locked some of the sliders where it did not provide an optimal experience or make sense for the makeup. Expect us to continue our work on these issues into the future to provide you with more. In addition to the customization opportunities provided, you can also save custom swatches as you tweak your sliders to get the perfect look. When you click on the swatch (for skin tones and makeup) as you modify the sliders, you will have an opportunity to save your custom settings, so you can re-use it later without having to remember your perfect looks! Did we mention that we made some hair updates? We did - we updated a base game child hair (cfHair_BraidedPonyTail), and we added a second version of that hair that removes the baby hairs (cfHair_BraidedPonyTailPlain). And we updated a base game male hair that you may find difficult to recognize from the original hair (ymHair_flatTopTextured)!

We have updated the Main Menu!... Again! The idea behind this change is to create a more cohesive experience and give Packs a more proper space as we continue to grow our content lineup. As a nice bonus, we highlighted the Gallery in a more meaningful way to inspire you.

-SimGuruGnome & SimGuruRusskii

Now onto the fixes:

Sims 4

Sketching so much that the Digital Sketch Pad just quit on you? Never fear! Freelancer Sims that use the Digital Sketchpad will now be able to complete designs without being reset abruptly.

Happy Birthday to all! Sims will now properly Age Up. Adulting is hard but they will make it, don’t worry.

Fixed an issue in which Doors, Windows, and Arches had cutouts when being reflected in Mirrors. Rorrim Rorrim no eht llaw, ohw si eht tseriaf erutaef fo meht lla?

Sims that do not have the Fishing Skill, or have not been Fishing at all, will not get notifications about identifying Fish. THEY WERE FISHING WITH THEIR MINDS.

The following careers have added the “Take Vacation Day” option, yay!Editor Russkii note: I didn’t want to add each line in each pack for this fix, it would have looked weird and robotic so that is why I chose to do one bullet point for all in this section.

Child Sims will no longer forget they are in their Sleepwear when they go to school. Though in these times of Work and School from Home, I don’t blame them one bit.

The Sweet Escapes Country Toilet will no longer be Comfortable AND Uncomfortable at the same time… There can only be one!

Sims with the Best Selling Author Aspiration can now complete their task of writing 3 Best Sellers.

Fixed an issue in which resized objects would disappear when they were part of downloaded Gallery items.

We revised our Careers (Pack specific and not) and we made sure there were no Chance Cards that were repeated constantly.

We noticed we had added the option to Clean Up Toddler on kitchen and bathroom sinks for both Toddlers and Children by mistake, so we removed it for both age groups from the sink… but how would have they fit? Like… how? These are the questions that keep me up at night.

Build Snowpal interaction is no longer available on non-natural ground (For Simmers that own Seasons and/or Snowy Escape). That's why it's called a Snowpal, not a Floorpal!

Gardener (Seasons)

Military (Strangerville)

Lifeguard for Teens and Conservationist (Island Living)

Law, Education, and Engineer (Discover University)

Civil Designer (Eco Lifestyle).

Get to Work

We made a clarification on the Xenophilia moodlet when interacting with Alien Sims. It should no longer say “From Discovering Aliens” but now it correctly reads “From Interacting with Aliens.”

Fixed an issue in which childbirth was not possible if Simmers changed the color swatches of the Surgery Tables. Now listen, I have heard about renting whole hospital wings for a birth in real life and other eccentricities, but this… was really something.

Get Together

Male Sims will no longer get Pregnant after receiving calls from NPC Sims.

City Living

NPC Sims will now text and call with invitations to Festivals. I personally welcomed the calm and quiet of my phone not beeping about constantly. But I can’t miss a Festival!

Sims rejoice! Yard sale customers will no longer invade their Home Lots and use Household objects. It is a Yard Sale… OUT in the yard, not an Open House.

Did you ever regret trusting some Sims enough to give them your apartment keys to constantly get visits from them for Milk and Juice? You can rest assured that they will no longer visit you for this purpose. I think some neighborly love is appreciated, but this went beyond the proverbial “May I have a cup of sugar?” type of situation.

Fixed an issue in which interactions to participate on GeekCon contests would not appear when interacting with objects.

We decided to give a bit more clarity when displaying the location of Festivals, so now it will display as “Near <insert location>” and not a distinct location that is not entirely correct. This is true for Festivals in Snowy Escape as well.

Cats and Dogs

Pets will no longer sleep in random places when told to sleep on their Pet beds. In my world they can sleep where they are most comfortable, my conspiracy… allegedly.

Seasons

Sims can now Shower in the Rain… Jury is still out on Singing and Dancing.

Sims will no longer “lose” their shovels when performing other autonomous activities while performing the interaction “Shovel Snow.”

Our friendly neighborhood Snowpal has been properly renamed to Chill from Chil. Everything I knew before was a lie… a LIE!

Ever felt like the Holiday spirit has just been too much to handle, and Father Winter starting to show up everywhere and not letting you do much of anything getting a bit… out of hand? Fear not! Father Winter will stop replicating himself* to spread holiday cheer. *Note this fix is not entirely retroactive, new saves should see this without issue. Existing saves will correct themselves over time.

Get Famous

Duck Security SCROO9E Super XL Smart Vault will no longer disappear after Sims Woohoo in it… you can say Woohoo can be romantic and magical, but maybe not to this extent?

NPCs from the Actor Career sometimes would never show on Set, making gigs impossible to complete. We've spoken with their union reps and everyone has agreed to stop this ridiculous strike. What were they striking about? Was there even a Strike? We may never know.

Island Living

Mermaids and other Occults should no longer be able to make hybrid occults. How were they making them? Oh boy, I'm not sure if it's appropriate for me to give you the mermaid-birds and spellcaster-bees talk.

Randomly generated Mermaid Sims will no longer be seen without some features in affected Simmer Saves. However this fix is not retroactive, so it should be seen fixed in new saves.

Pizza delivery to Lagoon Look Lot has been fixed to arrive promptly. This is Sulani Deep Lagoon Pizza, home of the 2x1 Mermadic Kelp Pizza and the Salty Llama Combo, may I take your order? <Descriptive Simlish on the line> Uh huh… uh huh… <Indescribable Simlish on the line> Yes, we now can ACTUALLY deliver to Lagoon Look… <Interrogative Simlish on the line> Yes, we told our delivery Sims that they need to deliver it there and not keep the pizza for themselves… like give it to the actual client. <Surprised Simlish on the line>

Discover University

Has this ever happened to you? Your Sim is ready to make an offering to the Sprites only to find a crystal stuck without being able to move it? No longer a problem, Sims now can remove offerings so all their rituals can resume. Sprites rejoice.

We fixed an issue for our Console Simmers that wouldn’t allow them to close the Humanoid Robot’s Behavior Module Menus correctly.

Fixed an issue that would cause items to be repossessed when loans were fully paid. That is NOT how it worked Repo Person… NOT how it worked.

Sims with Research & Debate Skill 3 or higher will no longer be able to “Convince to” with Toddler Sims.

Masquerade Secret Society Masks are now properly unlocked in Create a Sim when joining the Secret Society.

Fixed an issue in which Heckle animation was sometimes not being performed autonomously by Sims while playing Ping Pong.

Eco Lifestyle

Fixed an issue that triggered the Off-the-Grid notifications after traveling to different Lots in Evergreen Harbor, even when they are not labeled as Off-the-Grid.

We spoke to all Eco Inspectors, and they have agreed that they should NOT be charging the Energy efficient appliances fine if your appliances are fully upgraded to be super efficient and amazing. I mean all that work and still get fined? Not in this house!

Fixed an issue in which some placeholder text was showing in notifications after Dumpster Diving.

The Americana Station Speakers will now play Music… as the prophecy foretold.

When the We Wear Bags N.A.P is active, Grim Reaper will not be partially invisible when appearing on a Lot. Grim Reaper contributes!

Living the No Appliance lifestyle? We’ve got news for you! Sims will no longer be penalized for not having “Eco-Friendly Appliances.” No appliances, no fines!

Snowy Escape

Vending Machine Canned Soups and Drinks won’t spoil anymore. Time to stock up!

Sims can no longer go on Hikes while holding their Toddlers.

Space Heaters will now be able to be placed on Lots from Inventory. Sharing the warmth everywhere!

Fixed an issue in which the Shoe Removal Sign in 5-1-2 Kiyomatsu was not working properly. We also added Shoe Removal Signs in 5-1-1 Kiyomatsu and 2-4-2 Wakabamori.

Sims will now be more visibly furious when having the appropriate furious sentiment toward other Sims. “Yes, I’m mad!... No! This IS my furious face!”

Fixed an issue with some animations that would stutter while Snowboarding or Skiing. We also made sure that Sims with a high level of those skills would not always choose the Bunny Slopes.

Izzy Fabulous’ Star Simmi Rank was just too fabulous so we had to correct it to be one star less than displayed. Don’t worry Izzy, you are a full 4 stars in my book, you are that fabulous to me.

After much debate of whether it is the Cave Shrine or the Mountain Shrine for Hiking destinations we finally decided to just call it Mountain Shrine.

We revised the Snoop-Proof Bamboo Blinds and it is now possible to drop’em like they’re hot with the Thousand Words Window.

NPC Sims will no longer “take over” the Slopes for themselves for an indefinite period of time, now they will be sharing with all Sims the joys of the Slopes.

Fixed an issue in which Sims would get highlighted in the Sentiment Panel as if receiving new Sentiments every time traveling is involved.

Sims with Rock Climbing Skill 7, or higher, are able to autonomously climb the Tall Wall (Such tall! So much wall!). There is no need to not face what makes you uncomfortable… autonomously.

Had a chat with Yamachan and asked if he was ok, he seemed to start random conversations and then randomly say goodbye without reason. We are happy to report that he is OK now and will try not to do that. Give us a hug Yamachan.

Food Stalls at Mt. Komorebi Festivals won’t be closing shop randomly during Festival hours anymore. <guitar and piano intro> Closing time, open all the Stalls and eat all the food in the world...Closing time, turn all the lights on and let Yamachan greet you heeeere…

Create a Sim asset ymHat_EP10HelmetGoggles has been fixed to no longer display clipping around the neck area as well as we made sure no facial hair is removed when wearing this asset.

Dine Out

Experimenting with photo frames will no longer use the same picture of an Experimental Meal when displayed.

Hot Pot meals are now part of Restaurant Menus! I miss the times I would go to eat Hot Pot at a restaurant. One of my favorites has a conveyor belt that carries your fixings never leaving your table for a thing. *happy sigh*

Vampires

Vampire Sims will no longer be affected by temperature, so they won't be constantly obsessed with lighting fireplaces trying to get warm.

Post edited by EA_Leeloo at 6:30PM

Source: https://forums.thesims.com/en_US/discussion/984647/december-7th-2020-patch-notes

[saphirered]

Heyyy! Long time to talk. I hope you’re enjoying your summer. I have a question about how you take requests: how specific do you like them? I saw you’re writing for EXU and I already live Orym. I would just like something soft yet funny, but I can request something specific if you’d like? Lmk 💜 thanks

-🐋

Heya! Summer's great. Hope you're enjoying yours. Requests can be as specific or nonspecific as you want them to be. As long as I know which character(s) I'm writing for and have an outline of what you want like you've done here I'm all good! Thank you for requesting and I hope this one's to your liking! 😘

Word had reached you a group of strangers had made it to the settlement of the Fire Ashari outside of Emon, among them the Air Ashari you’d been waiting for. He may have never been to Emon before but you’d met the halfling many times before in Zephrah. You’d spent plenty of time with the Air Ashari in your years but now finally, Orym got the pleasure of experiencing your humble outpost life out here himself. Well, that was the plan anyway. Sometimes plans go down the drain.

When Orym finds out several firetamers were absolutely obliterated leaving only two survivors; clearly not counting you among those two he feared for your wellbeing but much like the Ashari training provided and interactions, one must be in control of their emotions especially in these dire times. Someone would have informed him if you’d suffered an ill fate, right? He hopes so. You had been called back to the Flamereach Outpost months ago because things were spiking up and that did mean you’d be in the thick of it. All hands on deck, hence your premature separation back in Zephrah. 

Orym feels wrong to say but he couldn’t be more thankful for that earthquake. Seeing you running head first into unknown danger might not do good on his stress levels but knowing you’re alive, that’s all he needs for now. Not like he and his friends don’t run into danger straight after you. On to the Oh No Plateau.

In the aftermath you were the one to escort this little group of strangers plus Orym back to the outpost. They were already a little worse for wear not used to, deal with or resistant to the ash, dust and poisonous gases, the firetamers unanimously decided it’s best to help these folks down instead of letting them find their own way. You of course volunteered to take on this task and no one was going to object as they got enough from this group to know they’re trouble. Rather you than them.

Taking the lead you answered some of their questions. You have to admit the mentions of the ‘ash-hole’ broke you enough to send you into a laughing fit. The dwarf, Dariax felt quite accomplished as these folks, your folks seem a bit more rigid and reserved, much like Orym in his opinion so it’s good to see not all of them are stuck ups.

Fearne nudged Orym on with a little push in your direction causing him to stumble. You’re dextrous enough to prevent the halfling from bumping into you possibly causing you to fall with him. Instead you catch him before he falls flat on his face. The look the two of you share does not go unnoticed by the faun and is very much revealing in the closer-than-friends kind of way.

Once conferred with Lorkathar they’re left to their own devices and the shitstorm of questions thrown at Orym to figure out who you are; or to some of them more importantly; who you are to him specifically. Orym tries to answer without giving too much of your own personal life away. It’s your life, not his and he doesn’t feel like he that’s his to share with others.

You met him in Zephrah on your journey to learn more, better your druidic skills. Part of this training was physical combat and weapons training. That’s where you grew closer. You weren’t exactly the greatest with a sword and Orym helped you go through training to where you could settle on a spear. Cue the questions about what other physical training you shared with him. Orym did not dignify that with a response. Really any question answered that lead to yet another innuendo made he did not dignify with a response.

There’s a knock on the door the group had been given to recover from the day’s events. The conversation falls silent as another knock raps lightly on the door. Dariax and Opal make eye contact before both rushing towards the door, the pleasure of answering going to whomever gets there first. They’re not sure but they hope its you. They have so little insight in the details of Orym’s life and they’re not going to let the chance fly to get some leverage on the halfling should they need to bring it up in the future if they want to commit another definitely-not-a-crime.

A white haired human dressed in pinks opens the door with a wide smile radiating mischief. You smile back although a little forced, to cover the confusion trying to peak through.

“Hi! You must be the firetamer Orym has told us all about. It’s so nice to meet you. I am Opal.” She grabs your hand and shakes it and you just let it happen. How the hell did Orym get sucked up in this group? They’re worse than you’d thought over your initial encounter. Not in a bad way just a… different one.

“Likewise. It seems like you have me at a disadvantage. You appear to know about me yet I do not know much about you. I don’t mean to be rude but I am looking for Orym, of the Air Ashari…” You exchange pleasantries but are cut off as the woman looks over her shoulder.

“Orym! Orym! Your lover is here to see you!” She screeches for the halfling who was already a few feet behind her, embarrassed this is how you’re properly reunited without the pressure of your respective lives.

“Hey.” Orym smiles through the embarrassment caused by his friends watching the two of you like some sort of play waiting what the characters will do next.

“Hey.” You smile back trying to not put too much mind to the curious company Orym had found himself in. You feel like the more attention you give them, the slimmer your chances at a calm and quiet moment with Orym will become.

“Well, don’t be rude, Orym. Invite your friend in.” Dorian perks up trying to keep the obvious ulterior motives of Opal and Dariax at bay but you weren’t born yesterday.

“I was thinking maybe we could step outside instead? I wouldn’t want to disturb your friends’ evening.” Orym catches on to your intent.

“Yeah. Yeah of course.” He brushes past Opal outside and grabs your hand practically begging you to lead the way before the others decide to keep you here.

“Enjoy your evening.” Fearne, saves your asses before the others can protests. Orym is glad to have the faun on his side and he’s pretty sure this favour granted puts him in her debt but it’ll have been worth it.

“It was nice seeing you all. I’m sure we’ll have more time to grow better acquainted in the future.”

“Have fun on your evening stroll, Orym!” Dariax wiggles his eyebrows and the halfling sends him a look to shut him up as you begin leading him away.

The sun is not yet set casting the outpost and mesa in an orange glow with the view of the city west of you. It’s a beautiful evening. Orym understands why you like sunsets so much. You bask in the rays of ember, a sight Orym hadn’t seen in too long. He hadn’t realised how much he missed this, how much he missed you. You stop at the side of a stone ruined building. You let go of Orym’s hand as you grab onto any footing you can and scale the building onto the roof. It’s only two floors tall so you lean over the edge and look down at Orym.

Getting the memo Orym climbs up following a similar path you had to reach the top. You lay down on the rooftop with a familiar comfort, as if the world’s concerns were left below. Orym had always admired this about you. It’s something he could never do himself. You turn over on your stomach, lean your elbows on the rooftop, head on your hands with a grin as you cross your legs behind you. He knows that look.

“So how does it feel being the most responsible individual among the chaos?” Orym pulls himself onto the rooftop and gives you a look. As he walks over to you he hooks his leg around your elbow and yanks making you lose your balance. You gasp and roll back over to your back supporting yourself on your elbows.

“Rude!” You laugh as Orym sits down next to you. Shoulders leaning against each other you watch the sunset. It’s a habit you had fallen into in Zephrah and it’s a habit picked back up again even after many months apart.

“I missed you.” Orym presses a kiss to the top of your shoulder.

“Missed you too.” You sigh content you’re back together once more, no matter how brief that might be as Orym and his little group of adventurers has been sent on another task to find Gilmore. You’d join if you could but you have your responsibilities here and Orym knows that like no other. Once this is all behind you things can finally go back to normal and you actually get to spend more time together without the world burning down whenever you turn your back.

“So how is it you of all people end up with this bunch of chaos bringers?” You laugh. You may not know his friends personally nor did you have much to go off in your brief interactions with them but you know well enough they’re trouble and chaos magnets. Orym, having an air of peace and calm around him shifts quickly to panic in stressful situations he doesn’t know how to navigate based on instinct and here he is navigating Emon of all places with them, getting involved in all sorts of conflict.

“Me of all people?” Orym feigns offence but he’s well aware you’re right. He’s not even sure himself how this weird little dynamic they have going works. He gives it a thought.

“Maybe I just naturally gravitate towards chaos. You are a testament of that.” Your jaw drops. Your halfling’s found himself with a new kind of boldness to him previously hidden beneath layers of Ashari customs. He may not realise it just yet himself but these people have a good effect on him.

“Are you calling me chaotic, Orym of the Air Ashari?”

“I’m sorry, but you really expect me to answer that question? You are chaos incarnate.” He laughs and you let yourself drop back, the halfling previously leaning his weight against you loses his balance and falls onto your stomach. You put your hands beneath your head watching the orange glow reflected off the clouds with a smile.

“You know what, I will take that as a compliment. Someone needs to bring a little chaos into your life. I’m glad I’m not the only one able to fulfil that task. They seem like good people.”

“They stole a vestige, broke into places and killed the henchmen of some criminal organisation all within the past twenty four hours.” Orym deadpans. He’s still a tad unsure how to feel about it.

“And you went along with it. Maybe one day you’ll be as much as a chaos incarnate as the rest of us.” Orym’s fingers lace with yours as he holds onto your hand.

“It’ll be the day the elemental chaos seeps through into this world.”

“Who says it doesn’t already. Embrace the chaos, Orym.” You wave your free hand making a cloud of embers appear above you like fireflies and make them dance in the wind. He’s already embraced the chaos and he knows it. It started with you but has extended to his new friends as well. Though, he’ll have to admit, he’ll take your chaos over theirs any day if presented with the choice. No matter. He’ll take any moment with you he can get now and be patient until you’re reunited in the future. There’s still adventures to be had, just for now your paths diverge. They’ll reconnect in the nearby future. He’s sure of it. You’re sure of it.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

previously on...

Witchy stuff! Disclaimer: I am not a witch so please do not take my theory of theory seriously. This has been taken off first page of Google, which is where I did my research. First ironstrange x reader interaction & tony being sweet and stephen radiating wife energy.

fun fact: the moodboards are just chapter spoilers without context.

Whatever protection spell the book had, it was nuclear. Burn cream didn't do much in terms of numbing the pain; I had to wear gloves throughout my shift at the café, self-conscious about the skin peeling off my palms and the light, sensitive fingertips. Saying that the day was hellish would have been too kind.

My spirits were briefly lifted when one of my favourite mad scientists walked in, nose buried in a StarkPad - his chattier, more confident friend nowhere to be seen. Doctor Bruce Banner lifted his eyes from his work only to give a brief, polite smile and mumble his order, immediately resuming the poking of the screen.

"You forgot something last time," I couldn't suppress the grin. Sometimes routine was nice, comfortable. The napkin with unintelligible scribbles and formulas in my hand was transferred to Banner's pocket with a shy smile and a reddish tint to his cheeks, as if he didn't find himself in this very situation more often than not. "Is Mr. Stark okay?" I voiced my concerns, having noticed the recent, acute absence of the rowdy man in the café. Dr. Banner rarely came here alone and it was more of a telling exception than anything.

"Oh, Tony? Yes, he's fine," the scientist nodded absentmindedly. "He's on a small vacation with his boyfriend," the last part was said with puzzlement and incredulity and I had to remind myself that a forty-something scientist was unlikely to possess at least a halfway decent gaydar. I mean, I would have eaten my shoe if Tony Stark was 100% straight.

The fact that Tony having a boyfriend surprised Dr. Banner, who appeared to be one of Mr. Stark's best friends, was quite funny to me. "Good for him, he deserves it after saving the world, like, a bajillion times," I replied honestly, attempting to hide my good-natured snicker at Banner's obliviousness. Scientists, they just are a different breed, man.

The perplexion melted off Banner's face, leaving only supportive contentment. "That is correct," he nodded confidently, exchanging a bill for his matcha. "Thank you. And, uh, congrats on your new job," he added with another one of his not-quite shy smiles.

My cheerfulness vacated the premises shortly afterwards as I struggled to keep up with the endless stream of customers all the while my hands throbbed and burned under the nitrile gloves. I was ready to call it a day and just tell Jeremy I had an accident, but my pride wouldn't let me. I arrived at Odette's feeling less than stellar, running purely on spite and several cups of espresso.

It went about as good as expected, select few customers growing clouds over their heads at the slow pace I was assembling their orders: the fact that even witches had Karens of their kind was a fact that I found both amusing and alarming. It wasn't particular comfortable, knowing that I, or any other wait staff, was always at risk of being cursed for bringing them the wrong kind of cake or messing up their white suburban mom coffee.

"You could have asked, you know," Odette's slow drawl startled me out of the trance I'd put myself in to avoid focusing on the discomfort. "Come here, girl, I'll take care of it."

My face heated up immediately as I realized the tender skin of my grubby little hands was on full display. Odette must've put two and two together, seeing my sins written all over my scarred hands and my guilty face. Not wanting to invoke a negative reaction and get on her scary bad side, I let myself obediently trot into her office.

"I, uh," the eloquence of my speech - spectacular. I was ready to fall through the floor out of of shame.

"It happens sometimes," a round jar of what looked like buckwheat honey landed on the table. Odette massaged the thick gel into my palms with gentle circular motions, shushing my hums of pain in-between. "The book called for me in the same way it called to you. The only difference, it was my grandmother's at the time so the protection wards did not go off because I was family." My eyebrows rose at the calm in Odette's voice. Composed as ever, the witch looked more amused than upset by my little snooping stint.

The pain in my hands disappeared completely, a cool sensation I could only describe as minty enveloping them and spreading throughout my body. The chill was pleasant - I hadn't even realized my body had been running on higher-than-usual temperatures ever since I touched the book. Those protection wards Odette spoke of, they really packed a punch!

"I will teach you," she must've interpreted my stunned silence as curiosity, having made up her own mind in the seconds I was basking in my newfound relief. "We'll start slow. The transition from the material world into the spiritual isn't easy," Odette warned, locking her fingers, her magnetic eyes commandeering mine for utmost attention. "But it is incredibly rewarding. If you follow the rules, you will prosper. Our kind isn't plentiful these days, with people praying to gods that condone greed and selfishness," her lip curled in distaste. "Each one of us can make a large difference in this world. The opportunities you have been given need to be taken seriously."

My lip caught between my teeth as I mulled over the words my boss spoke with so my concern and conviction. Nothing in her speech sounded amiss; sure as she was, I was still mercifully given a choice. Odette's aura, that used to seem suffocating and dense, grew around me into a non-physical hug, a comfort akin to a mother supporting her child taking their first steps.

I eyed the sixty-something year-old, tall, imposing woman, scanning her for any deceitfulness, exhilaration and wariness sitting on my shoulders and whispering into my ears. True to myself, I gave into the side that craved and lived for adventure. "I would love to learn," hoping my voice conveyed the excitement and hopefulness of being a part of something special.

Odette smiled kindly. "I knew that," with a chuckle to herself, she reached into a set of drawers and extracted a few worn, plain notebooks. "Homework," the wink she threw at me instantly took ten years off her face. I couldn't even bring myself to sigh, only the sludge still covering my palms preventing me from making grabby hands in the direction of new information.

The bell rang before I could make another comment and I was let go with the instructions to wash my hands - and that's exactly what I did, having noted the short Asian man impatiently tapping his foot next to the front desk.

The man's name was Wong and he was the sole reason for my uncontrollable flares of temper during my work hours at the bodega. Odette herself avoided him like the plague, and for a good reason: his attitude was nothing short of conceited, as if the weird robes that he wore were some kind of a hall-pass to be a demanding asshole when it came to the store's wares.

Wong could spend up to forty minutes inspecting the baggies containing herbs and other knick-knacks, meticulously picking out what he considered best and curtly insulting the items he found to be lacking in quality. I was made aware he belonged to some sort of a sect or a cult of honest-to-god wizards; as if him looking like a worker of the Ministry of Magic didn't make that fact obvious. I was unpleasantly surprised at the fact that even witches, much like doctors, had elitist pricks among their kind - and Odette had the audacity to simply vanish whenever one of those robed people set foot in the shop, leaving me to use all my mental strength to try and not strangle the wannabe Karens.

I was willing to bet my favourite star-patterned scarf that Wong hexed the waiters who made him wait longer that he considered appropriate. I just knew it.

The anger, the frustration and at times, blind, total rage came in useful - and that was a surprise to me. According to Odette's notebooks, everyone had the potential to master magick - to an extent, each individual's threshold was, well, individual - but the more a witch was in tune with her emotions, her feelings, the higher the success rate of her spells grew.

The notebooks contained enough information for me to understand that Odette was considered a High Priestess (not to be confused with Head of the Coven - not all witches wanted to be a part of those) and the amount of power she held was quite impressive. No, she couldn't turn back time, she couldn't raise the dead; the people she helped and healed were, oftentimes, made well at the expense of her own life energy. It was an endless cycle of emptying a glass and refilling it back up. The deities lended a hand with that.

Some time after I'd gone through the theory, Odette encouraged me to choose a direction I was to study in depth; much like her, I was interested in the defensive rather than the offensive. Healing spells, protection wards and the occasional light hex to deter enemies from reoffending: I was disappointed but not surprised to learn the fact that curses and serious harm done to other people quite often backfired, harming the caster themselves as well as their victim.

I had always believed in karma, to a healthy extent, but these days I was that much more aware of how I treated those around me. That's not to say I became a pushover - I simply chose to smile rather than frown at the world and replaced my longing and envy with a sense of gratitude towards the things I already possessed. Just like Odette had said, layering the spiritual values over my material, earthly ones wasn't easy - it was hard work, and what prevented me from stopping when I felt exhausted was that it actually paid off.

As I got ready to cast my first serious spell, I ran through a mental checklist of things I developed - of sorts. Positive vibes only. Having vengeful intentions when warding off potential harm-doers was not only dangerous, it was counterproductive. Intentions mattered the most when casting a spell and I could end up killing all the innocent, stray cats in the area instead of making a burglar choose the neighbouring building some five months down the line.

The spell, I considered to be a success. The atmosphere in my home lightened, the dingy walls of my rental started radiating comfort and safety I hadn't felt since moving out of my parents' home. A slight tiredness persisted for a few days after the last candle burned out; Odette reassured that it was perfectly normal as I was a baby witch and my energy channels were adapting, growing to accommodate my newfound awareness and flow of cosmic energies that I was training to harness.

Next on my list was a personal protection charm, an antique silver locket adorned with stars I had scavenged in a local pawn shop. Odette had given me instructions on how to cleanse potential magical conductors: the amount of rings and jewelry she wore directly correlated to the power of a singular spell she could cast. There was a fine hairline between charging your accessories and letting them drain you and I learned to walk South of it the hard way, but as all learning processes go, eventually I found my middle ground and was successful.

My daily routine grew small rituals like the forest trees grew moss. Slow and steady, I was transitioning from a curious baby witch into a self-sufficient practitioner of magic. Sounds crazy, I know, coming from someone who could barely believe into aliens until Thor himself had walked into the coffee shop and ordered a latte, but as all things do in life - I changed.

Working the morning shift allowed me to discreetly place a few of the good-luck charms I had made during my most recent creative stint. While they didn't have a direct effect on the customers or their tipping habits, the atmosphere on the cafe's premises had lightened enough that even Jeremy's usually sour face tipped more towards neutral these days.

The smile blossomed on my face without effort as I caught the tell-tale bespoke suit and sunglasses of the man waltzing through the doors of the café as if he owned the place. "Nice to see you, Mr. Stark. Enjoy your vacation?" I asked the smirking man, giving a respectful once-over to the tall, lithe man holding onto his shoulder.

"It's Tony," the happiness was radiating off him in waves. "Missed my favourite coffee shop and the world's nicest barista," he winked at me, causing the man behind him snort, steely blue eyes studying me in turn. "Had to introduce my two favourite people," the engineer took a step back, parting his arms with a flourish gesture. "Stephen, Starlight. Starlight, Stephen," he spoke before rattling off his usual order. And a cake on top.

I gave an amused grin to the man obviously humoring his significant other, as Stephen mock-bowed in my direction. "You're right, how could we be together without the approval of your favourite barista?" Stephen had his wits. I decided I definitely liked him. "Starlight? Is that a nickname or were your parents hippies?" Okay, witty bordering on rude. Was Stephen a lawyer?

"Now, now, honey," the crinkles around Tony's eyes deepened as he barked out a laugh. "No need to be jealous. We're all adults here, we can share. There's enough of me for everyone."

I rolled my eyes, easily slipping into the familiar banter. "Speak for yourself, Mr. Stark. I'm very selfish," I cocked an eyebrow, tilting my head to the side and pretending to size up Stephen. "You've outdone yourself this time," Stephen's eyebrows rose. The line between 'sizing up' and 'checking out' was so very fine and I walked it well, a quiet sort of confidence that had bloomed within me at the recent events in my life letting me be slightly bolder that allowed myself to be before. "I'd have to be the Devil myself to break up such a blessed union. My congratulations," my smirk grew into a warm smile as Tony beamed at me in return, content on showing off his most recent acquisition.

Who, by the way, looked a little bit lost. Evidently, Stephen did not expect such a degree of familiarity between me and Tony; which was, to be honest, most likely what had him returning to the establishment over and over. Come for the coffee, stay for the company. Or how was it?

The energy between Tony and Stephen was electric. There was something undoubtedly attractive, magnetic even, about the tall, steely-eyed man, something similar to Odette's charismatic pull but without the overwhelming ossification of the air around her. Even putting aside the fact that Stephen was a visually stunning person with his sculpted phisique and high, sharp cheekbones, he commandeered the attention to himself without even uttering a word. Definitely a lawyer, with how the type could hold the whole courtroom together with a single look.

The early birds on a Friday were few and in-between; the three of us chatted as the two men sipped their coffees with muted noises of joy. According to Tony, Fiji was delightful this time of the year. Oblivious to everything around him, the engineer rambled about his ventures without a care in the world as his partner looked up to him with earnest happiness and I- well, I wished I could go to Fiji, hot boyfriend optional. The weather in NYC was slowly becoming dreary: I did not look forward to winter sludge and the traffic congestions that it created.

"And I love what you've done with the interior. Those cat statues? Charming," Tony rambled, pointing out the good-luck charms I'd placed all over the café. Small knick-knacks I carefully selected to match the overall vibe of the room. "Tell Jeremy I send my regards. Appreciate the lack of paps, too," he winked at me, looking visibly relieved.

"Huh?" The rag in my hands froze. "I haven't seen a single paparazzi around here, since, like, ever," I admitted, puzzled.

"And I appreciate it. Ever since our thing became public knowledge, they've been hounding me wherever I go," the eyeroll Tony made was truly powerful. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it," and again, the engineer winked at me, apparently having made some assumptions of his own. "I won't tell if you won't."

The puzzlement persisted within me all throughout my shift. I lived in NYC, for fuck's sake, I wasn't unfamiliar with how things ran around here.

Every establishment I worked in had been swarmed with the annoying, persistent celebrity hunters at some point - and yellow press and paparazzi were, by far, the worst. Some of the greedier ones could go as far as to shove simple folk out of the way or order a cup of coffee with their camera hiding under the tablecloth to sneak in a juicy picture of a celebrity just trying to have their brunch in peace. I hated those vultures with a passion; their negative energy, their lack of morals when it came to hunting for a new scandal that would make them a few hundred bucks.

The only way to even slightly deter them was to repeatedly call the cops on them for public disturbance. I'd done it once or twice, egged on by Jerry and his worry of losing profit - after all, there were establishments known specifically for high rates of celebrity sightings and if any of the superheroes wanted to make an appearance, they would just go there for their cup of overpriced coffee and defrosted sponge cake. Our café was strictly for comfort and leisure - a rare thing me and my boss actually agreed upon.

As I said warm goodbyes to my favourite engineer and his newfound, dashing boyfriend, the cat statues stared at me in mute satisfaction, their hollow eyes radiating smugness and their immobile mouths stretched in what looked like pure, mocking mischief.

Taglist is open until the story is finished. Spare comment? 🥺

@couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

[custom-whats]

Hello! Love your blog. I’m curious though, what do you look for in custom followers? Like what draws you to specific ones and what makes you keep them around?

under the cut cuz i cant stop talking and its all opinion babe

when it comes to first impressions, i don't really have a lot of expectations that makes me think "man i wanna try that guy". I usually grow a love for the character by directly interacting with them in game. I think the only follower mod i ever felt that immediate "holy shit get in my game rn" feeling about was Khash, but that's because i'd literally been dreaming about a kid follower mod since forever because i wanted to feel like i was ACTUALLY adopting a kid and not just contributing to some random orphan's abandonment issues by never being home.

When i check mod pages for followers, i do have a list of stuff that i tend to avoid for personal preferences tho, and sometimes i check online opinion of some custom followers on places like reddit. Not all these opinions are good of course but u can usually tell who is and isn't biased at a glance, and some reviews have definitely saved me from wasting like 10 hours on a follower that had stuff that wasn't for me.

As for what keeps them in my load order, good humor with good awareness for when not to use it! this may sound silly to some, but when i really get into the Skyrim mood i become one of those immersion roleplay nerds who rlly invests themselves into the character they're playing, so having a follower that is both charming with witty banter and smart enough to know when to get serious in the story (even if it's just for like one throw away line) is my sweet spot. It doesn't even have to be like dark and moody serious, but an acknowledgement of the stakes in the story is nice yknow. Also, i like when followers have banter dialogue with you unrelated to any quest and is solely there to establish bonding. Inigo used this to phenomenal effect and now he's literally everybody's best friend.

On a more technical level, i quite like when followers are quest aware and talk about things as they're happening, but that doesn't make or break my enjoyment in a follower. It's just harder for me to feel motivated to bring around followers who aren't quest aware when there are others that are , weirdly? It's my own mental hurdle to overcome LOL. I also prefer when followers have summon spells and what not for ease of travel, but i travel with Khash just fine and she doesn't have one so it's not a deal breaker by any means.

TL;DR followers who are funny but not totally off the rockers goofy, that have good dialogue interactions with the ldb either alongside main quests or/and entirely separate from them, are my faves. Bonus if they teleport

[therubyjailcell]

One Step At A Time, We'll Go On - [Remus & Dee bonding fic]

A/N: This is a short thing that I wrote as a small snipet of my characters in the RP I have going on currently with my boyfriend, @clownchecked​ ! And because it wasn't really an interaction per se, seeing as I'm playing both of them, I was originally planning on writing a short thing to send him, but it ended way longer than planned, so might as well make it a short fic. Enjoy~

Summary:

Virgil and Remus have been dating for a while now. Their relationship was kind of a mess, to be honest. Except Virgil got 3 kids, only one of which is Remus's, and his teen child is not liking Virgil having a new boyfriend. And Remus would like Dee not to feel trapped in their own house again.

TW: Reference to a dead character (Logan), family conflicts

Ship: Background Dukexiety, past Analogical

WC: 1804

Listen - Remus had made up his mind a while ago. He was pretty sure he'd known since they got together, actually, but he'd come to terms with the fact that he really wanted this and that he would do it for real, a while back still. The only other step before proposing to Virgil was, in Remus's opinion, Dee.

Hear him out: Dee might be Virgil's kid (and not the one who made the decision anyway), they still were very important and had to be taken into account. Especially since they were barely allowing Remus to be in the same room - though that was getting so much better lately, and Remus definitely had noticed how, even though they still wouldn't start the conversations, they actually did exchange convos with him now. Either way, he wanted them to know beforehand what he was planning, and to, y'know. Agree to it. Remus's goal had never been to make life harder for Virgil nor Dee, and he wanted to make sure Dee was okay, because despite them doing their best to show how much they despised him, Remus actually cared for Dee. And while they still had to learn that Virgil wanted Remus to move in with the rest of them, he figured they were smart enough to know what would follow, and that this would at least feel like they were in control of things. And yes, Remus would wait if Dee refused, he did want to show them they could at least trust that he would respect their boundaries.

All in all... He was so stressed about this. He had gotten a ring custom made to be unique, and to be honest, he hoped Dee would at least hear him out.

⠀

Dee wasn't stupid, alright? They could very much see that Remus was definitely a permanent feature now, and that he was spending more and more time over. They weren't sure how to feel about it. But at least the other didn't suddenly move in without warning, they supposed. When they heard a knock at the door that afternoon, while Virgil was busy outside, and Remus was keeping an eye on the littlings and them, they had a feeling that they weren't escaping this conversation. They were doing better though, nowadays. They could tolerate Remus talking to them (with them, even). They also noticed his efforts to keep in mind their boundaries, and how attentive Remus was to them. They had asked Virgil whether he was the one who told Remus about their tastes, and likes and dislikes, only to get a confused look from their dad as he asked why he would share personal stuff about Dee to Remus without asking Dee first. That left Dee with a confused feeling, between the need to cry, and the urge to yell. Anger, sadness, worry, regret, grief - they weren't sure exactly what was causing it, it felt too complicated to entangle it, but they sure felt it.

Either way, that knock meant tough convo ahead - the littlings were napping, and Remus usually worked during nap time, so. This was a real conversation. They weren't sure what to expect, honestly. They hesitantly told Remus to come in, anxiety rising, and Remus made sure to enter slowly, and not to go too far into the room.

"Heya Dee. Think we could have a small chat? Nothing bad, I promise - just wanted to know your opinion on something."

⠀

Dee kept quiet for a bit, before they nodded and sat on their bed, discreetly holding onto their plushy, hoping it'd comfort them. Worried kid. Remus definitely noticed, but kept quiet about it, and smiled encouragingly to them. He wanted them to be okay and feel like they could express themself, it was important. He hesitated for a bit, before nodding and giggling a little.

"I'm sorry, I'll be honest, I'm a bit nervous. But I want to preface it all by saying I truly want to know how you feel about the thing I wanna talk about, and that I promise I will respect your opinion, and I won't do anything to go against it. Okay?"

Dee kept quiet, before muttering a "okay", clearly unsure how to respond. It wasn't surprising, they didn't have much to go on, to be fair. Remus took a deep breath, fidgeting with the box in his pocket, before taking it out slowly. Dee was watching him attentively and frowned a bit, confused.

⠀

"I would like to ask you if you would be okay with me proposing to Virgil."

⠀

The sentence hung there in the air for a bit, Dee staring at Remus silently, their face visibly showing the whirlwind of emotions they were currently feeling. Remus felt bad immediately for dropping this like a bomb.

⠀

"I really love your dad, and I would like to marry him at some point. However, I don't want you to be upset by the news, or uncomfortable, or to feel like I'm imposing, so I wanted to ask you first, and well. I'll only follow through if you're okay with it. But if you're not, well... I don't mind. I can wait, it's okay." He smiled at the teen. "It's okay if you're upset, or if you don't want me to propose, I won't hold it against you I promise. And Virgil will never know about any of this either, promise."

Dee kept quiet, looking down as they tried to process everything. Remus wanted to propose... and he wanted them to agree to it first? That felt weird. And very much new, considering they hadn't exactly been warned ahead of time nor asked for their opinion much when it came to Virgil and Remus's relationship. Though the talk with Virgil had helped soften the repeated blows from before, it still felt bad, and Remus asking now felt foreign.

⠀

They kept quiet, and this seemed to worry Remus, because the other spoke again. "I promise this isn't me trying to impose nor me trying to force anything on you. And I really do not mind it if you'd rather I didn't propose right now. It's okay, and you're totally valid in how you feel. And I'm not trying to replace your dad either, and I know I'll never be him. Virgil will always love Logan, and I know that, and I promise I'm just asking because I want you to feel okay in your own house."

Oh. Right. Dee looked at their lap at that. Because a marriage led to moving in together, right? Dee hesitated at that, because they really weren't sure they wanted to live with Remus. Though it had gotten better, hadn't it? It wasn't like that at first. And, though they'd never admit to it to anyone else... Remus was kinda nice. He cared for Patton very much, and he took care of both Patton and Thomas, even though he only technically had to do that with Thomas - regardless of what Remus and Virgil, and Patton even, said, Dee still couldn't face the idea of Patton considering someone else his dad too, it was too hard. And even with them, Remus was nice and caring.

And they did have to admit that they didn't mind him being there as much, and it was kinda nice to have the house be... less empty sometimes. Because Remus was loud, and kinda everywhere, and honestly super clumsy, but also super mushy, it felt... familiar, though foreign. Kinda felt like home, sort of. Just slightly to the left. Not to mention how happy Virgil looked - though it always looked kinda upset whenever Dee was around, but that was mostly because Dee had been very awful about Remus, and that probably was why Virgil looked sad or worried so much. Or angry. Either way, Dee didn't like it much, though they felt like they couldn't stop themself from being like that.

⠀

Remus had kept quiet since Dee had looked down, and Dee was grateful he hadn't pushed. They considered their next words very carefully, trying to craft an answer that wouldn't feel like a lie, one way or another. But how do you answer a yes/no question when you have so many doubts? Dee wasn't sure. They felt conflicted. They looked at the other and Remus gave them an understanding smile. "It's okay, take your time - I'm not in a rush, I promise."

Dee hesitated before mumbling "Can I see it...? The ring?" and that made Remus lit up. It wasn't quite an answer, but it was something, and he was very happy about it. Especially since that something wasn't them yelling or throwing things at him. He went to sit on the floor next to Dee's bed, and opened the box to reveal a quite frankly beautiful ring. It was black, with purple and green shards in it, that seemed to shimmer and shine, though it was discreet enough, and definitely Virgil's style. Dee teared up - it was magnificent. Their dad would love it, and it clearly showed that Remus cared and paid attention. They gulped a little.

Remus looked at them at that, probably hearing them sniffle a bit, and frowned worriedly. "I'm sorry, did I do something wrong...? I'm sorry if I upsetted you, or anything, I didn't mean to." Dee shook their head and tried to dry up their tears with their fist, but it didn't work that well. Remus closed the box and put it back in his pocket, shifting so he was facing them, and took their hand softly, leaving plenty of time for them to pull away. They didn't, and he squeezed their hand.

⠀

"Are you okay?" Dee shrugged at the question. They weren't sure. "That's fair," Remus answered, before humming, "It's okay if you'd rather not answer right away. We got all the time in the world. Would there be anything that could help you feel better? A movie, a tv show - I can even leave the living room if you want to use the TV on your own." Dee shook their head and sniffled before mumbling "Dad'll love it. The ring... He'll love it, and I hope he- I hope he'll be happy with it."

Remus squeezed their hand softly. "I picked it specifically for him, after all... I hope he likes it, like you said." He smiled at the 12 year-old and hummed softly. Dee seemed to relax a little, very much overwhelmed, though the humming did help with grounding.

⠀

It took a bit for them to calm down, and they still had a lot of feelings to sort out. But their dad was in good hands, and they should focus on themself - Remus made it clear he was able to wait as long as Dee needed before taking a step forward, and that was something to hold onto.

[karliahs]

please leave a light on when you go

oneshot - jontim - 2k words

written for @jontim-week day 2, prompts: night out / touch / secret

 “I...might go out for a smoke,” Jon murmurs eventually.

 And here’s where Tim could say sure, wave him off and go back to moping, buy everyone an obligatory round, flex his meaningless chat muscles and be home by half 9. “Mind if I join you?” he asks instead, and to his surprise Jon nods immediately, as if he’d been hoping Tim would say that.

read on ao3! or below the cut:

There’s no reason for Tim to be here. The Institute has some weird policies, including a truly esoteric dress code, but it doesn’t have mandatory team-building night-outs. Tim has no reason to get to know his coworkers, no need to ingratiate himself to them beyond what he can get by smiling, making bland comments about his weekend plans and never microwaving fish in the breakroom. 

The pub they’re in, somehow identical to every workplace-night-out pub he’s ever been to, seems to be having some sort of throwback night. Early-nineties hits play just loud enough to grate, and Tim eyes his new coworkers, trying to muster up some enthusiasm for striking up a conversation. He imagines what they might say if he told the truth. <i>Hi, I’m Timothy. I left behind a career in publishing to be a junior researcher so that I can hunt monsters like fucking Scooby Doo. If you need me, I’ll be chasing answers I’ll never find, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about them even if I did! Another round?</i>

Maybe that’s why he came tonight. To have these thoughts somewhere other than his flat. His little studio can only hold so much brooding. 

He’s interrupted from his current round of brooding, first by an unsteady grab at his shoulder, then by a cascade of beer, then by a glass clattering onto the floor followed by a hush in the surrounding buzz of conversation. A quiet, posh voice swears, and Tim recognises one of his coworkers bending down to try and clean up the mess, though it takes him a moment to place the name.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, glancing up at Tim before sheepishly looking back at the mess on the floor. Off to the side, a few tables give a sarcastic cheer and a round of applause. Tim worked food service long enough to instinctively dislike anyone who does this. He grabs some napkins and bends down to help Jon.

“Hey, no harm done,” Tim says, trying to remember how to sound friendly. He scoops up the somehow still-intact glass. “They’re wise enough to make them sturdy around here.”

Jon huffs, somewhat ineffectually blotting at the spreading puddle on the ground. “Did - your clothes, I didn’t, ah-”

“Only a glancing blow,” Tim answers, brushing at the damp spots by his hip. “And after I went to all this trouble to dress up for the occasion.”

Jon looks up in alarm, before registering that Tim hadn’t even bothered to change out of his work clothes. He gives a small, reluctant smile; one of the first expressions Tim’s seen from him that wasn’t some variant of thoughtful frown. 

He’s seen Jon around a bit, in his few weeks at the Institute - about Tim’s age, relatively nondescript, tonight clad in a surprisingly lush leather jacket. Tim had made the mistake of asking him a couple of questions on his first day, when the person actually training him was on lunch. Jon had blustered and prevaricated for a few minutes before admitting it was only his second week in the job, so he didn’t actually know.

That was about the only time they’d interacted, though Tim had noticed a few other things. There were a few loose groups of friendships in Research, and Jon didn’t seem to be a part of any of them. He never seemed that steady on his feet, and he tended to avoid eating in public. He rarely asked for help, unless he needed something that would require him to use one of the library ladders, which he seemed determined to avoid. Tim had wondered idly about vertigo, or mobility issues, before reminding himself these weren’t the questions he was here to answer. 

Tim had always noticed people, collected little details about them in his head whether he intended to or not, but he thinks his observations used to be about happier things, though it’s hard to remember exactly how he was, how he felt, before - it wasn’t the kind of thing he ever tried to memorise, the kind of thing he ever thought he could lose. Now he finds himself taking note of the coworker who comes back from their lunch break with faint puffy red marks around their eyes, or the older guy who checks his phone with something like dread in his eyes. Danny would have called it his older brother instincts (but what good did those instincts do him?).

Tim blinks back to the present, realising he’s been pushing a napkin over the same spot of floor for a while now. Jon offers him a hand up, though he braces himself on the bar with his other hand before he does. Tim takes care not to let Jon take too much of his weight as he’s hauled back up. 

“Ah, thank you. And apologies, again,” Jon murmurs, gesturing awkwardly at Tim’s lightly-beered clothes. 

“Happens to everyone,” Tim says easily. Jon still looks lightly anguished, and Tim silently wishes this could have happened to someone else, someone with the confidence to laugh it off. “I’m always convinced I’m going to drop something when I go in the silent study bit of the library,” Tim offers. 

“Ah...that worry hadn’t actually occurred to me,” Jon replies, solemn enough that Tim can’t really tell if he’s joking. 

Tim finger-guns. “Any other anxieties I can stir up while you’re over here?”

“I’m quite capable of stoking my own neuroses, thank you.”

Jon glances over his shoulder at the tables the rest of the department are occupying, perhaps doing the same thing as Tim and trying to psyche himself up for some more hollow smalltalk. Tim notes that his jacket seems slightly large on him, but in a way that kind of works. The collar of his shirt is slightly out of place beneath it. There’s a lump forming in Tim’s throat, even though nothing is happening - nothing but standing close to someone, noticing the little signs that they’re real and alive entirely independent from him. He’s aware, as he always is, of the hollow pit in his stomach, pain ebbing and flowing but never gone, new flares thrown off from a familiar wound, now pulsing with a kind of loneliness. All this, just from standing close to someone and trying to make them feel better about a mistake that didn’t matter.  

“I...might go out for a smoke,” Jon murmurs eventually.

And here’s where Tim could say sure, wave him off and go back to moping, buy everyone an obligatory round, flex his meaningless chat muscles and be home by half 9. “Mind if I join you?” he asks instead, and to his surprise Jon nods immediately, as if he’d been hoping Tim would say that. 

They duck outside to find dark clouds have given way to an anticlimactic drizzle. They stay close to the pub, shielded from the rain by the slight overhang of the roof. Jon fumbles with a lighter and Tim finds his gaze drifting over the rain-slick streets. It’s been a while since he’s been...anywhere, really, other than work and his flat. Longer than he can remember since he was outside in the never-quite-dark of the city. 

Despite himself, Tim finds himself admiring the buildings across the way, modern painted shop-fronts on the ground floor giving way to weathered brick and occasional stone carvings above. It was the first thing he’d loved about London, how you only had to look up to catch a glimpse of its history, and it almost wounds him all over again, that that love isn’t gone too. It would be easier if he was just one thing, all the way lost. It would be easier if he didn’t still love the world that killed Danny.

Jon lights his cigarette, and silently holds the lighter out to Tim. Tim shakes his head, and Jon doesn’t question him about why he’s come out here if he doesn’t smoke. Doesn’t press about the way Tim must be looking; he knows he’s never had much of a poker face. Danny tried to teach him poker, on a visit home from uni; Tim left for six weeks and came back to playing cards and strategy guides everywhere - his brother, who never sit still even in his own head -

“Where were you, before this?” Jon asks. Tim wouldn’t have pegged him for a smoker, but he looks immediately more relaxed with a cigarette in his hands. Nice hands, too. It would be easier, if he didn’t-

“Publishing,” Tim answers, before he can drift again. He wants to say more, to make sure this undemanding presence isn’t going to leave his side, but his throat is still tight. “You?” 

Jon frowns, as if debating something to himself, then gives a tiny rueful smile. “Tesco.”

Tim grins. “Was it a haunted Tesco?”

“Only by customers,” Jon replies, dry as bone. 

The rain is picking up slightly, and both of them silently tuck further into their little alcove, bringing them shoulder to shoulder. The air tastes of smoke. Tim is watching moths in the streetlights above, partly out of fear that if he looks directly at Jon, he’ll realise how close they are and pull back. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” Jon asks, voice hushed. He gestures and Tim follows the point of light with his eyes. “The smell, I mean?”

“Always kind of liked it,” Tim answers, matching Jon’s tone. Jon scoffs in disbelief. “What? You’re the one who inhales the things.”

“Exactly,” Jon says. “I have a biochemical justification for finding the smell tolerable. What’s your excuse?”

Tim spreads his hands, little spots of rain landing on his sleeve. “I never claimed to make sense.”

In the corner of his eye, Tim catches Jon hiding a smile with his next drag. It’s a good smile, one he wants to get a proper look at sometime. It’s as if now that he’s noticed one beautiful thing, he can’t stop seeing them: the buildings; the rain; the passing pair of drunk students across the way, walking arm in arm, holding each other up. There’s a curl of anger in his chest, that these things still get to exist, but for the moment it coexists with a kind of quiet warmth.

“You want to know a secret?” Tim asks, finally turning to look directly at Jon. Jon doesn’t speak, doesn’t nod, but he stares and waits, lights reflecting in his dark eyes, and for a moment Tim feels as though he must already know what Tim is going to say, that he can look into Tim’s eyes and learn everything he’s ever tried to hide. He can’t decide if it’s peaceful or terrifying. 

Then Jon blinks and the feeling is gone, as quickly as it had come. “I like this party better,” Tim finishes, gesturing to the two of them. The things he could have said hang in the air between them.

Jon doesn’t quite manage to hide his smile this time, and yeah, that’s something Tim needs to see more of, all slow and crooked. 

“Well,” Jon says, still in the same hushed voice, as if they’re sharing secrets. “If you ever need to borrow my smoking habit, get you out of an unpleasant social situation…”

“Knew that was why people smoked,” Tim says, nudging Jon’s shoulder with his own. “I’m not normally…” He trails off, unsure how to explain himself. Normally I’d care at least a bit, about all those people in there. Normally I’d at least have the energy to pretend.

Jon considers this half-finished thought for a long moment. “Abnormality is...rather the Institute’s specialty,” he offers eventually. Tim feels a kind of gratitude he can’t name or voice, so he doesn’t, just stands there listening to the rain while Jon finishes his cigarette, and for a long time after.

Not a bad night out, after all. 

[soliverse]

sugar, sugar - z.cl

reader x chenle

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: a kiss in the cheek, cuss words, pessimism (I think that’s about it? Let me know if I missed something.

word count: 6.2k

part of the Candy Hearts Collab by @127-mile (click the link if you want to read the rest of the collab)

synopsis: Your whole life, especially working for your boss, is a living nightmare. That was until you got some sugar in your life.

inspiration:

Isn’t It Romantic (The film from Netflix by Rebel Wilson),

Sugar, Sugar by the Archies

networks

@nctcreations @kdiarynet @kpopscape @kwritersworld @culture-cafe @neowritingsnet @neoswitchnet @czennienet

February 13,202x / 8:00 AM

It was a quiet and peaceful morning. Which is too bad since that’s not what you’re aiming for.

Your alarm should’ve sounded at 6:00AM. Instead, it woke you up an hour late despite how much fumbling and crying that you did make it work last night.

You have completely ditched breakfast, running as fast as you can to the bus stop that never comes and leave as scheduled.

Already half an hour late, you still sat down that bus seat, fidgeting as if not staying calm on your seat will make the bus ride shorter. Right now, the only thing that you’re still holding on to is that small, sliver of hope that you get there before your boss does.

After climbing down the vehicle, you ran like you’re in a marathon and looked for that one window that your coworker always leaves open whenever you’re late like today. You ungracefully climbed up the window of the storage room and met Jisung, who’s already getting himself ready before opening.

“Is he here yet?”

You whispered as you tried to dust your red shirt and smoothened out your wrinkled uniform. The goal is to make yourself look decent, an attempt that you barely managed to accomplish

“He just came in. Hurry up before he notices.”

You mouthed “Thanks” to Jisung before leaving the storage room and sneak into the main entrance to log yourself in for today.

Your eyes scanned the candy-themed decorations for any signs of life (or danger, in your boss’ case) but he is nowhere to be found. You walked casually towards the main entrance, breathing only a sigh of relief as soon as you get to the front door.

Finally feeling at ease, you pressed your thumb on the device that records your time and gave yourself a mental pat in the back for actually pulling it off. At least, before a hand pops out of nowhere and touched you by shoulder.

You yelped at the surprise appearance of your ever-so-stealthy boss right behind you.

“You’re late again.”

He was staring at you with those black intense eyes and his resting bitch face. His expression always made you worry because there’s no way to actually now if he’s mad or not. You kept your head down and tried to avoid as much eye contact as possible.

“Surprised? I saw your little stunt by the window. You know that it’s right in front of my office, right?”

He patted your shoulder before placing his hands back to his pockets.

“You also know that I’ll be deducting that on your payroll, right?”

“Yes sir.”

He didn’t even let you finish and just turned his back at you, walking towards his office.

“That reminds me. We should bolt that window down before someone else tries to sneak in and steal. Tell Jisung to work on that as soon as possible.”

As soon as he’s out the way, you rolled your eyes and went back to straightening the wrinkles off of your uniform.

“Tell Jisung to work on that as soon as possible.” You said, mimicking him made faces behind his back.

As if Jisung knows how to shut that window properly.

 After that delightful conversation, you helped Jisung in refilling the candy containers, tidied the shop by little bit, and breathe for one final time today before you opened the shop.

Some people may have imagined working on a candy store to be a dream. You get to bask in all of the aesthetics, you get to interact with children every day, and there’s that perk that you get to enjoy an unlimited supply of sweet treats during your shift.

Oh boy, some people couldn’t have been more wrong.

Your location is near an amusement park, which is already hectic as it is, but you also need to deal with stuff that all retail staff goes through.

If you were to make an entire list of the stressful situations that you have to deal with every single shift, it would take you all day.

There are children throwing temper tantrums because their parents refused to buy the candy that the wanted, entitled Karens demanding free candy because you made her baby cry, teenagers who thinks they’re so smart by stealing handful of candies from their containers while you’re distracted. It’s a mess.

And that’s beside your main source of stress. That one is sitting on his office at the back of the store, probably playing some game on his phone while you act as both staff and manager, is the best boss in the world, Mr. Zhong Chenle.

Note the sarcasm.

That guy deserves a whole separate list by himself.

///

So far, the first few hours of your shift went smoothly. There were a few customers here and there but nothing that you and Jisung can’t handle.

All is well. But if you’ve worked retail before, you would know that those words are cursed.

You’ve always had this thing where you’d get a stomachache whenever something bad is about to happen. Ever since that one nice lady earlier told you to keep the change with a very kind smile, your stomach has been grumbling like crazy.

You sneaked into the counter and sat there for a moment to rest. The pain is bearable, but it makes it very hard for you to breathe properly. After taking a few deep breaths, the pain subsided a little bit.

Until, someone wrapped their arms around you, startling you off the chair and had you freefalling straight into your butt.

“I’m not paying you to slack off Y/N. Do something. I don’t know… rearrange the Valentines display. Just don’t sit around while there’s so much stuff to do.”

He dusted his overprized outfit that probably cost more than your wage, even grabbing the hand sanitizer from his pocket, completely acting like you had a contagious virus that.

Fighting the urge to talk back, you just turned around and went back to work.

Someday, I’m going to punch that resting bitch face off his face.

Someday.

You went back and found Jisung painstakingly arranging the M&M piece by piece, arranged by color, size and filling.

The kid makes you worry sometimes.

He’s a good kid but sometimes he can be a bit… clueless?

You remembered the first time that your boss bought a cotton candy machine and asked you and Jisung to figure out how to operate it. He almost left work with nine fingers that day.

“Hey kid. Bossman wants us to change the Valentines display.” You explained as you walk over to the center of the room where the display case is placed.

“Not again. What does he want this time?”

“I don’t know. His only instruction is do something.”

He whined for a bit, but he followed your lead shortly after and started removing all of the candy jars on display one by one.

You started working on it as well, hoping that he (aka the owner) won’t notice that you just switched the glass containers of the candy displays with each other and then placed them back in their original place.

You realized that he probably didn’t know what the display looked like in the first place. It’s just more unnecessary work just to keep you moving.

To pass the boredom, you decided to dote on the kid that is busy making a bouquet of out of rose-shaped lollipops right beside you.

“Sooo…”

You said in a high-pitched voice and tried to lighten up the mood a little.

“Any plans for the V-day?”

He stops for a moment, bowing his head down while he tried to hide his shy smile.

“I’m taking this girl out bowling.”

You squealed and poked his side to tease him. He used to be a little highschool kid that you were told to keep an eye on just in case he accidentally kills himself. It was a headache at first, but he grew on you and now he feels like your honorary little brother.

“Awww. My Jisungie is grown up. It felt like it was just yesterday when I was to trying to teach you to tie your own shoelaces. And now, you’ve got a girlfriend”

“Uhm Y/N. That was yesterday.”

You were about to pinch his cheeks once again when Chenle squeezed himself in between you and Jisung.

“And now you’re flirting. Geez. Do I have to do everything around here?”

Why does this guy keep popping out of nowhere?

He stared you and Jisung down before he slithered back to his office once again. You just stood there in disbelief, shaking your head as you went back to work.

///

The end of the day went by smoothly, which made you worry even more. As you return some of the candy displays back to the stock room, you can’t help but think that today was just the calm before the storm.

Take last year’s Valentines for example.

The shop was stuffed with that a customer fainted because of suffocation. Jisung was bleeding because some guy punched him for flirting with his girlfriend (even though the poor kid is just being nice and gave her one of the extra candy flowers.)

And oh, no dates. While everyone is busy celebrating the love that they will share together you celebrated at the fact that the day is all over.

Ever since you’ve started working at that shop, you’ve never really tried to meet new people. You keep explaining that you’re tired all day. That your job is very demanding time-wise and physically. But in reality, no one just asked you out.

You could’ve quit, but who would take in a highschool graduate without work experience? You’ve barely saved up for a whole college semester, let alone the curriculum. There’s nothing to do besides suck it up.

It’s just one of those things that you stop celebrating as you get older.

Valentine’s day, your birthday, your birthday which is the same day as Valentine’s day.

Sighing, you picked up the stack of empty boxes that you needed to take outside for the garbage truck. Once again, Chenle pops out of nowhere, hitting some of the boxes that tumbled back on the floor. His are arms folded at his chest, sneering because of the mess that he created.

“Will you clean up this mess? It’s almost closing.”

You just pursed your lips, nodding as you stacked the boxes once again, trying very hard not to lose your composure.

“And will you please close the lights outside this time? I doubt that can pay for the damages if this shop burns down.”

Back turned against your employer, you picked up the boxes from the floor. You’re just glad that it is tall enough to cover most of your face. If someone could see your face right now, they would say that it is the face of someone that is about to murder somebody. Which is getting closer and closer to reality every single time Chenle opens his mouth.

Besides, you left one of the lights open one time. His petty ass just can’t seem to live it down.

“I’ll make sure to double check before leaving, sir.”

“Good. Make it quick.”

Holding out the boxes, you figured that he’d at least hold the door out for you. You had that one tiny glimmer of hope that he’s nice after all and you judged him too hastily.

Nope.

He slams the door right behind him and closed the lights from outside.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

You slammed the boxes down to search for the lights and open the door for yourself.

Just one punch. I need just one punch and that’s it. He’s gonna get what’s coming to him.

Scrambling in the dark, you almost faceplanted as you tripped one of the boxes in your way. With your arms stretched out as you feel up your surroundings, it took you a few minutes before you’ve finally managed to open the switch and see the mass that you made while stumbling.

You just facepalmed and stood there for a while, reminding yourself to take deep breaths and calm yourself before you actually burn this place down.

One by one, you stacked the boxes once again in one corner, making sure secure them this time. Keeping the door open, you’ve successfully placed them inside the bins.

One box in particular fell down to the ground. You picked it up to stuff it back to the garbage can but the motion made a rattling noise.

I must’ve missed a piece.

You dusted off the nearby pavement and sat down so you can open the box.

Inside was a few bags of candy, adorned with the usual red and white swirls with the text “Sweet Escape” taking over most of the packaging.

This one must be new.

You stuffed the box back to the garbage can, looked around for signs of a snooping, grumpy adult and placed candy on one of your back pockets.

If your boss found out that you messed up the inventory again, he will not hesitate to fire you. You’re just gonna have to sneak it inside before he gets there tomorrow. Well, assuming that your alarm clock works this time.

///

“Mom, what’s for dinner?”

You closed the door behind you and took off your shoes as entered your living room.

Throwing your keys and jacket aside, you’ve just noticed that the lights are all off and the house is eerily quiet.

You grunted as your sore feet walked itself to the kitchen, only to find a single note on the counter.

Me and your sister went out to eat tonight. Just order something for dinner

Love Mom,

All you ever wanted that night that you just to a nice, warm dinner and go straight to the bed and shut yourself from the world.

Great. No breakfast and dinner.

Fuck my life.

You threw the note in the garbage bin and just stomped your way to your room. You felt like breaking down at that moment but you didn’t have the strength to make cry and make a fuss. Maybe you can just sleep all the frustrations off and feel a lot better tomorrow.

Maybe it doesn’t get much worse than this.

You scoffed.

Sike.

As if.

You slammed yourself to bed but soon realized that it wasn’t a very good idea.

You felt something in your pocket popped and it made a huge mess in your bed. You took it out of the pocket and realized that it was the bag of candy from earlier. The seams popped out and tore open from being squished by a tired, underpaid employee.

At this point, you just glared and cursed yourself once as you cleaned the candy off of your bed. Some of the candy is inside the box, so you cupped your hands and poured the remaining contents to your palms. It was filled with tiny colorful candy hearts, which looked appetizing despite the tiny bits of disfiguration and the fact that it was in your pockets the whole time.

Well, I guess this is dinner then.

You popped the candy in your mouth, letting it sit as it oozes a strong citrusy flavor. It had a texture similar to those fever tablets for kids. In fact, it tasted like medicine a bit, too.

The citrus taste kept on spreading in your mouth and your face now contorted to a grimace. It felt like all moisture is getting sucked out of your body.

They sell this to kids?

You ran to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water to water the taste down. It didn’t do anything, so, you kept on chugging more and more water until you’ve finished an entire gallon of liquids.

You sat down at the kitchen floor and breathe a sigh of relief. The taste finally left your tastebuds, but you can still feel your body feeling repulsed by the extreme sour sugary candies that you just consumed.

Drinking one more glass of water, you went back to your room and changed into your comfortable clothes, finally ready to leave this day behind.

Let’s just hope that those candy bits won’t get you sued tomorrow.

///

February 14,202x / 8:00 AM

The alarm started blaring off from its place, scaring you shitless and making you jump out of bed in panic.

 You could've have been happier and more annoyed at the same time.

You leaned against your bedroom wall, giving yourself a few minutes to calm yourself down before you decided to turn off the alarm.

Once your heartbeat has cooled down, you stepped back to the bedside table and pressed the alarm button to check the time.

8:00AM

"Dammit!”

Your heart started to race once again. This time, it’s the adrenaline rush that’s making you move faster than normal. You even contemplated about getting a shower. However, you're already screwed as it is, you're not going to work without breakfast and shower again.

You stepped back to your room, wrapped on a bathrobe and panting like you just ran a marathon. Digging into your own closet, you noticed that your uniform, a red polo shirt and matching star white pants, is missing from your closet.

"Mom! Have you seen my uniform?"

You shouted from your room but you heard no answer. It seems like they didn't stay the night either.

Great.

Seeing as how your day started, you've deemed the rest of the day unsalvageable and just grabbed the closest thing to red that you have on your closet, which is a red frilly blouse and a white paneled skirt that you've never worn before. It's right at the bottom of your closet, so you've figured you or your mother bought this before and just forgot all about it.

You also grabbed one of your newer shoes to match and bolted to the front door as fast as possible.

You locked the door behind you, only to be spooked as you turned around to see a car parked in your driveway.

It was one of those fancy ones too. The ones that have their doors open at the side like an alien spaceship.

You only know one person in the world that's flashu enough to ride one. And he's just came out of the car.

"Happy birthday! You're pretty early..."

Chenle smiled as jogs over to you, keys jingling on his fingers, and gave you a small peck on the cheek.

You stood there in your porch, frozen.

Zhong Chenle knows how to smile. And he knows about your birthday

"I was about to call you but I didn't want to wake you up. So, I came over instead. Did you eat your breakfast yet?"

You shook your head hesitantly, still unable to speak and process the situation.

"No good, young lady. Go back inside. We're not leaving with an empty stomach."

 ///

 Here's something that you never encounter every day. Your spawn-of-the-devil employer is making you pancakes in the kitchen. And you finally have fresh milk in your fridge.

What happened to the world while you were sleeping?

"I'm not a professional chef but at least it's edible."

He said as he placed a perfectly fine plate full of fluffy pancakes right in front of you. Is this him being cocky?

He sets the apron aside and sat down right in front you, grabbing a plate and a piece of pancake for himself.

"Go on... Tell me if it's good."

You hesitantly took a bite, and then chewed in silence as Chenle expectantly watched you from the side. You set the fork down, speechless.

They're as good on the inside as they looked on the outside.

 "You don't like it?"

He sounded upset. It wasn't like "I can't believe you forgot to do this thing that I told you" upset either. He looked at you with his puppy dog eyes and a bit of a pout.

You froze. What if all of this is trick? And this is just is way of firing you, like letting you down gently in case you formed a vendetta and burn the shop down in your anger.

Which, for the record, is partly true.

"Uhm. It's nice. It's very niceee"

In your panic, you might've overdone the compliment. It sounded like you're on gunpoint and you had to say it to live. Nevertheless, he still smiled to himself and took the compliment well, even pouring you another glass of milk so "it would go down better".

The interaction alone gave you the chills. It felt like you're walking on thin ice and the former Chenle will come out and bury you alive. But even that would've sound more real than what's about to happen next. 

Like the gentleman that he is, he opened the car door for you. You never even got the chance to question where the two of you are going. After sitting down, just when you're about you're about to ask, he held your hand and gave it a kiss.

"You buckled up?"

"Uhm. Yes..."

Still holding your hand, he pressed some buttons on the dashboard and then music started playing. You recognized that it was that song, Sugar Sugar by The Archies. It’s one of the songs that you ironically played in the candy shop. There was also Sugar by Maroon 5, Sugar by Florida.

Well, you get the point.

“Sugar Ah, honey, honey You are my candy girl And you got me wanting you…”

He proceeds to sing along to the song merrily as he backed up your driveway. Meanwhile you sat there quietly as you tried to assess your situation. 

Is this kidnapping? Would it be considered kidnapping if I willingly went inside the vehicle?

Once you’ve realized how ridiculous you sounded in your head, you relaxed for a bit and started humming along to the song. It was at this point that you realized that Chenle had a beautiful voice. The song didn’t have high notes, but it was hard to make your voice pop up with the middle register. It sounded stable, like he’s a recording artist.

The atmosphere at the shop would be much better if he sang like this all the time.

…which reminded you of something that Chenle might be neglecting to think.

Panic washed over you and soon, you can’t keep still and moved around your seat a lot.

“Are you comfortable?

He kept on glancing on your direction, keeping you in check for a few moments while he still kept an eye on the road,

“We can make a quick stop if you need something.”

Trying your best to keep yourself still, you finally sat down and placed both of your hands on your lap, like the kids at school when their parents ask them to behave.

“Where are we going again?”

The question finally popped out and you pursed your lips while trying to wait for the answer.

“I don’t know. It’s your day. We can go wherever you want to.”

“Oh.”

It’s not like him to be away from the shop at this time of the day, let alone the whole day. No matter how sucky he is, he did what is best for the shop. It was his baby.

And if the both of you aren’t going, then it only means one thing. His baby is screwed at the hands of someone.

"By the way, who's taking care of the candy shop?"

You tried to ask nonchalantly, but it only came out sounding more inconspicuous.

"Oh yeah. I left Jisung in charge."

He wistfully replied. Suddenly, you feel your head spinning from your seat from the sheer realization that he left the kid alone, in his shop, with no adult/proper supervision.

"You left Jisung alone... In charge... On Valentine's Day"

You turned your gaze away from him, trying to hide your internal panic. You'll be lucky if the guy made it alive until lunch by himself.

"Relax. He'll be fine. He's with the trainees. Figured it might teach them a thing or two in getting the actual job done."

“And with trainees too… oh my god.”

Great. More casualties.

“You don’t mind if we stopped by the shop first, do you?”

“Of course. You’re the boss.”

///

In a few minutes, he pulls over to the parking lot and you’re glad to see the shop in piece. On the outside at least.

You stepped inside the car and practically ran over to the inside of the shop, leaving Chenle behind.

“Welcome to Sweet Escape, how may I help you?”

Two unknown faces greeted you at the door. They must be the trainees that Chenle talked about earlier.

“Would you happen to know where Jisung is?”

They both nodded and pointed to the direction of the left side of the shop, which was supposed to be all the supplies were. Instead, there was Jisung on the register, which by the way looked different from what you can remember.

In fact, the whole shop looked nothing like it was yesterday. The colors seemed more vibrant and festive and the whole thing looked like a candy wonderland. To be honest, it reminded you of that one Katy Perry music video.

Jisung bowed at you formally and wore his usually customer service smile.

“Welcome to Sweet Escape, how may I—”

“How many fingers do you have now?”

You replayed the question in your head and it sounded just as crazy when it came out of your mouth. At this point, you decided to continue on with the question. For obvious safety reasons.

“Uh ma’am. What do you mean?”

“Hold your fingers up. How many do you have?”

He was hesitant to do as you say. Chenle just facepalmed and gestured him to do as you said, putting up all of his tall fingers in the air.

“Ten?”

You breathe a sigh of relief, almost rushing over to hug the confused Jisung when Chenle pulls you from behind.

“Please excuse her for the moment. She’s feeling a bit under the weather.”

He smiled and bowed to Jisung as an apology, another gesture that you haven’t seen him do before, pulling you outside the store to give you some air. Once you’ve reached the parking lot, he placed his hands on your shoulders to hold you still.

“Okay. Since when is hugging my staff became a thing?”

He stares you down with a genuine concerned look on his face.

He placed one of his hands on your forehead.

“It’s not like you’re sick either…”

Chenle sighs, finally releasing you from his grasp

“Tell me. What’s the problem?”

He sat you down at the pavement and gave you enough space to reflect on your actions.

You had the choice to say that you have absolutely no idea what’s happening to you right now, but you thought that he ought to know why you’re acting that way. Now, you just have to figure out how to explain it to him without sounding like a crazy person.

“I…”

You started slow, working your way into explaining that you woke up into this insane dream about how her boss is suddenly so nice to her that morning.

And then it hit you.

“I had a dream about you...”

Ideas started pouring down to your head, starting to piece together a story that actually made sense.

“And in that dream, you’re this mean guy that never cared about me and other people’s feelings. You just made everyone around you miserable. The dream felt so real so I’m very uncomfortable that you’re acting nice to me now.”

“Is that so?”

You nodded your head as an answer. Chenle pulls you over to a side hug, relief washing over him knowing that it wasn’t that bad as he made it up to be.

“I’m sorry if that mean version of me hurt you.”

He rested his head on your shoulders and pulled you closer to him.

“If I decided to be mean to you in a dream again, feel free to punch me or whatever. I promise to make up for all of it once you wake up.”

It was probably the nicest thing that anyone has said to you in a while. Even though it wasn’t actually him who’s hugging you and making you feel all warm inside, you’re not going to see your boss the same way again.

“You know what, why don’t we start now. There’s plenty of time today to make it up to you.”

He stood up from his seat and brushed himself, helping you do the same right after.

“Where does my y/n want to go right now?”

Your lips formed a mischievous smile.

You knew just where you wanted to go at that moment, but he’s probably not going to like it

///

“Would it hurt you to rest for one second?”

You’ve been running around the theme park for the whole day and Chenle just barely kept up to you and your antics. He gave you a small opportunity for a payback and you’re not going to let it slide. Even if it’s with nice Chenle.

You were about to run off again somewhere when he tugs you by the hem of your shirt.

“Y/N-ah, don’t you feel sick at all?”

Chenle’s eyes droop down as he tried to compose himself. As someone that doesn’t like heights and gets dizzy easily, it seems like he’s about to faint any minute now.

“But I want to ride the Ferris wheel.”

He went sheet white, if that is humanly possible. Chenle had barely enough time to recover from the roller coaster ride a few minutes ago and now you’re already on your way to hop in to another one.”

“Fine. We can rest. I don’t think my ears can handle any more of your screaming.”

You can hear Chenle complaining under his breath. The two of you went to the horror house a while ago and there was a high-pitched screaming the whole time. You’ve been teasing him with it ever since.

“I told you, that wasn’t me!”

“The only person inside is you and me. And I don’t remember screaming my own name for fifteen minutes.”

His mouth opened like he was about to say something, but he stopped midway and just took your hand to drag you at the nearest bench. He sat you down first before he took the seat right next to you, both palms on his face and trying to give himself a moment to breathe.

As much as you wished to torment that guy to death, he really looked sick to his stomach. He can barely lift his head up without taking deep breaths.

“You alright?”

You said as you patted his back gently, giving some time to relax and a moment to breathe.

“I’m fine. I did say that I’ll do anything for you today.”

He takes one last breathe before getting up the bench, only to lean on one side too much and almost toppling over.

“Yeah. I think were done for the day. You can barely stand up.”

You sat him back at the bench and caressed his back to get him to relax. Not even a minute after sitting back down, he did a thumbs up to let you know that he’s doing fine already.

“What time is it?”

“4:30. Why?”

He tried his best to stand up and keep himself still. This time, his attempt was successful.

“I’ll drive you home.”

“Are you sure?”

“You can barely stand up. What makes you think that you can drive?”

“Just trust me.”

///

Sure enough, you both got to your house unscathed.

He told you to step out of the car, which you did, and he smoothly backed the car to your garage.

“How was that?”

He said smugly just as he came out of the car, keys jingling on his fingers once again. You can joke about his motion sickness but you can’t comment on his driving.

Chenle was then about to enter your house, but you stopped him just before he turned the doorknob.

“You know what, I had a lot of fun today. It’s probably the best birthday slash Valentine’s Day that I’ve had a whole life. I think you deserve this…”

You held up your fist into a ball and pretended to land a punch to his face. He winced, which gave you and opportunity to tiptoe and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

He stood there frozen for a few seconds, but it was replaced by a cheeky, boyish smile that he’s been hiding from you the whole time that you know him.

You twisted the doorknob and stepped inside your house first, when a popping sound greeted you from inside.

Turns out, those were party poppers.

“Surprise!”

Your whole family is there, alongside all of your friends from way back highschool.

“Sorry for missing you this morning sweetie, we needed some time for the party preparations. Chenle did a good job of distracting you the whole day.”

An arm wrapped itself on your shoulders and gave it a tight squeeze. It didn’t take long for you to find out who it was.

“She made me ride the roller coaster, twice.”

“Stop being a baby. I asked you the second time but you refused to come with me.”

Laughter fills the room and it went for the rest of the night. The celebration wasn’t fancy but it was enough for you to realize what life you’re missing in the real world. And as much you want to make it longer, sooner or later you’re going to have to come back to your old life.

That time was the next day.

///

February 14,202x again / 6:00 AM

The shrill sounds of the alarm clock woke you up, but you were smiling ear to ear. Something about your dream have placed you in a very good mood. Too bad you can’t remember the specific details. All you know is that there’s a car, the shop, the theme park… Zhong Chenle.

Why would it be a nice dream if your boss was in it?

Before you started conspiring some theories, you shook it off and started to get ready for today. To your surprise, the alarm woke you up on time. This means that you can take your sweet time in getting ready, possibly even make yourself an English breakfast for a change.

Your plans are foiled, however, when you realized that the kitchen wasn’t empty.

“Happy birthday…”

Your mom came from the living room to give you the tightest hug. She hasn’t hugged you like this for a long time, so you reciprocated and pulled her in a tighter embrace.

“I’m sorry that this is all we can afford for now…”

She sits you down the table and pushed the small bento cake right in front you. It is not bigger as your hands, but the pink icing and the decorations looked so delicate and beautiful.

“I promise to make you a better cake next year.”

“This is all I need Mom, thank you for doing this.”

///

Everything is going smoothly today. The bus is on time and the driver even gave you a small Valentine’s card as you went inside. For the first time in your life, you looked at the streets painted different shades of red and you’re perfectly fine with it.

You even got to work early. Doors are still shut down when you got there, so you decided to climb up the storage window so you don’t have to wait outside. As instructed, you finally locked it behind you and made it a point to be on time so you’ll never have to use it again.

You started with work right away, cleaning up as much as you can before everyone gets there. While you were mopping the main shop, you can hear keys jingling from outside, meaning that your boss already got there. The door swings forward and upon turning around, he opened the lights, only to see you standing in the middle of the shop.

He screamed at an ungodly pitch and almost fell down at his place.

“Oh, it’s just you. That wasn’t me, alright? ”

He dusted himself off tried his act together and be as cold as before, only to be embarrassed because you kept laughing at his face.

You tried to keep a straight face and bowed at him to excuse yourself. If your tardiness won’t get you fired today, it would probably be your excessive laughing.

“This is the horror house all over again.”

You swear that you heard him mumble something else, but you weren’t sure if you heard it right.

What are the odds that he dreamt about a horror house too, right?

Before you got the chance to go though, he said something that made your heart race for the rest of the day.

“You were there too, right? I just want you to know that that was really me.”

You turned around to see if he’s joking, but instead found a smiling Chenle at the other end of the shop.

“I actually liked you for a while now. So forgive me for always lashing out on you.”

He placed his hands on his pockets and walked slowly towards you, his head down while he tried to hide his shy smile.

“Happy birthday Y/N. I don’t mind repeating that day again... just don’t make me ride the roller coaster twice this time.”

///