#just had an interview and got hired today for a good job that hopefully lasts all semester so I'm gonna ✨take another nap✨ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hanibalistic · 1 year

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THE MASQUERADE | HAN JISUNG.

genre | (in general of the universe) fluff, angst, romance, friendship, magic au

synopsis | jisung decided to respond to a letter advertisement offering him a job at a coffee shop. it was a very old-fashioned way to apply for a part-time job, but he thought there would be no harm in taking a chance!

word count | 9.9k+

warning | none

universe | the cosmic shops / here is the discord link to its world-building server if you are interested in knowing more :)

note | world building i miss you.

Jisung had no idea how much louder his world would become when he stepped into the coffee shop.

With nothing but multiple rehearsed speeches prepared and a nearly empty bag that stored only his tablet for note-taking, he let the door behind him close gently while fixating his eyes on the environment of, hopefully, his future workplace. A deep sigh left the confines of his chest as the familiar operating noise of the coffee machine hit his ear.

He put in his two week notice for his previous barista job a month ago. He had no expectations for maintaining any friendly work relationships, and he did not. He had gone to work and gone home on every shift. His silence was not kept. That would be impossible. But the continuous ‘How are you today?’ chain with his co-workers was not exactly material for making friends.

His charming side left after he got hired the day of his interview; part of him knew the manager was desperate for workers, and he understood why. The pay was dog shit, the hours were horrendous, and some customers hit the nail on the head with being the group of people most undeserving of anything good in life. Besides those, let’s all the honest, being a barista is not a worthy enough relevant experience for the future careers any student would want to pursue.

The joke of his life writes itself. He quit the last barista job because of its dead-end path and the poor work environment just to end up interviewing for another one. This job listing was nowhere on credible search engines or semi-sketchy recruiting websites. He found it in an advertisement letter addressed directly to him that was sent to his home.

He applied though, because the joke of his life writes itself.

The shop smelt of coffee beans and stunk of natural wood. Instead of a modern, popular beige color scheme, the structure maintained an overall old-fashioned brown tone, with vintage furniture and little to no alternative vibrant colors. Customers lined up before a long wooden counter with no openings; on top sat multiple steam machines shoving out coffee heat, either waiting or already being used.

The accent wall attached to the one behind the cashier counter was made out of auburn red bricks and cement instead of ancient wood. Slapped in the middle of the brick wall was a fireplace with an ominous key cabinet stuck in the middle just above it. Jisung squinted at the fireplace, feeling compelled to wipe his glasses with the hem of his sweater. He swore he saw some colored dust on the logs.

You made a mental note to swipe the fireplace after humorously following Jisung’s gaze toward it. You had already rung up all the customers’ orders this morning before he could snap out of his trance. Determined to startle him a little to make up for the dull morning, you waited by the side of the counter with your arms folded and leaned against the edge. It took Jisung a while, but eventually, he turned his head away from the brick wall and jumped when he noticed your stare.

“Good morning,” you greeted.

“Good morning,” he returned politely with a casual bow. He cleared his throat of his nervousness; it was still there. He just pushed it behind a well-crafted facade of confidence. “I am here for the interview.”

You raised a brow with intrigue. That was a surprising turn of events. By a turn of event, you meant any deviation from the usual barista routine. Either way! You were usually on top of everything; the cleanliness of the shop, stocking ingredients, tending to request letters, and remembering information communicated to you by the Entities. You cannot for the life of you remember ever hearing about the shop receiving new hires. You have been working alone for three and a half years. If there were such news, you would remember!

Jisung pursed his lips patiently when you raised a finger, signaling him to give you a moment. In the meantime, he stood on his spot and recounted everything that had led him up to this point—the advertisement letter, replying to the advertisement by mailing a response letter (which was weird to him), getting an irregularly quick decision back that told him to come to this location for an interview. He made sure he double-checked the location before coming here. He could not have been wrong, could he?

His eyes followed you as you moved toward the back, where the wall of tiny drawers was. Sniffing to get the nervous itch out of his nose, he reached a hand up to pinch the tip. He wasn’t sure why he felt out of place. When you pulled open one of the drawers to peek inside and closed it shortly after, he realized that those were not decorations. He was sure the ones on the top of the ceiling would be, though.

You touched your hand to the empty spaces between each row to find a spot that could get you what you needed—the phone booth. When you did, you banged the space with your fist twice and stepped back. A ground shiver happened, startling Jisung. One of the drawer rows was separated from the wall with visible lines. Then, like a revolving door, it turned to the side and revealed a small accent brick wall with a rotary dial phone on top of an antique table.

You picked up the phone and dialed a number. Jisung has no idea what happened.

His best guess was that it was a deliberate design choice, but that assumption was quickly defeated with two counters he thought too quickly of.

One, corporate design choices are almost always made to maintain the old or garner new consumers. He knew that much as someone who has always been heavily involved in the inner workings of the mainstream music industry. He had a phase where he pretended being independent was better. With the fabricated authenticity people much value today, it still is better. But everything takes money, including breaking into the industry or just making an album in general, so he did care about corporate to an extent.

Even though he had never heard of this coffee shop before and had no idea how closely related to the Starbucks level corporate it was, there was no way the store structure was not crafted with the goal of inviting more customers. Except the changing telephone booth was shown when there were no customers around. It was just a function of the architecture that an employer could use, which to him made no sense. What can a cool feature be worth if the money spenders never see it?

Two, that kind of architecture must have cost a fortune to build. But Jisung had just heard of this coffee shop when he was offered to apply for a job here. When he was doing some research online before accepting the offer, he found no information about it either (and why did he apply to this job again? Because the joke writes itself!). A coffee shop as secretive as this one could either be two things: a soon-to-be vacant spot or a top secret hideout for extremely wealthy people. Considering its mundane location—just across the street from a plaza with McDonald’s and Pizza Hut—Jisung settled with the first thing.

Funnily enough, he would not put it past people who could wipe their snot with dollar bills to be bored enough with their life that they decided it would be fun to open a coffee shop just down a regular street. To fit more into the ordinary atmosphere, they have decided to hire only one employee and pay them the most undeserving salary too! It was anything to live like poor people without actually doing it!

Jisung shook his head off the millions of assumptions popping up. He was thinking too deeply about this. All he had to care about was getting the job, or not getting it. He planned to figure it out as he played along.

“I don’t know, Hyunjin. He doesn’t look too fine to me.” You spoke into the receiver while stealing glances at Jisung. “He looks zoned out, almost. All I’ve shown him is the turning walls, though.”

The other end laughed heartily with a joke you would have understood once, but you giggled with him nonetheless. Afterward, Hyunjin confirmed that he, too, got himself a visitor at the shop without prior notice. You heaved a relieved sigh, knowing that you made no mistake, even though it was unlikely that you would have to prepare anything extravagant to introduce a newcomer into the extraordinary world of the cosmic shops. All you would need were patience and a way of explaining things, both of which you possessed.

After you hang up, you knocked on an empty space on the wall again to turn it back to the drawer row. Your hands flew to rub against your apron to clean off the cement feel, and then you smoothed it out of habit. Looking up from the ground, you caught Jisung’s eyes and smiled at him. He returned it with a much lower intensity, likely because he was still confused about the sudden wall change. You headed to the side of the cashier counter and kicked harshly against it once. An entryway opened up for you, and you walked out from behind the register.

Jisung tried his best to hold back the furrow of his brows. As confusing as everything had been, he was still making an impression that would get him hired. But he swore on God that there was no visible entryway when he walked in through the door, which gave him direct sight of the side of the long counter table. And, of course, he swore on God because he did not believe in such things, so there would be no real repercussions if he made a mistake in his swear. You did walk out from behind it. He was not taking any chances.

“Sorry for the wait. I was not aware that we would be getting new hires,” you said as you held out your hand.

He immediately reached out and gave you a firm handshake. “No worries! My name is Han Jisung!”

“[Name],” you returned. “You are a little early, Jisung. You came during rush hour.”

“The letter I received told me to come at this time, though,” he informed, motioning at his bag as if he had the letter with him and could bring it out for evidence if you doubted him.

You hummed in acknowledgment. The letter could only have one sender: the Entity in charge of the coffee shop. Since the Entity also has access to the shop’s customer walk-in hours, if it specifically instructed Jisung to arrive at the time of serving, it could only mean that the Entity has a strong desire for Jisung to become a barista at the shop. It was a chance for him to catch you working, after all. If the Entity was unsure of its choice, it would have arranged for him to arrive when the shop was empty instead.

“I see.” You acknowledged to yourself before making eye contact with Jisung again. “You caught me at a terrible time, unfortunately. I just rang up all the customers’ orders, but I haven’t made them their drinks yet.”

Jisung smiled with uncertainty. He knew you were the only employee working at the front, but he didn’t think you were also going to be the person to interview him. He assumed someone of a higher position must be lazing around at the back and was charged to consider his application. Were you the only person here? Were you the manager who sent him the reply letter? What about the time clash? What kind of lousy management was this? This was even worse than what he had to deal with last time!

Maybe he shouldn’t work here!

You ran a hand through your hair as you turned your head to the side. Your lips pursed and smacked inaudibly as your mind riddled with thoughts about what you should do. When you looked at Jisung again, you politely smiled at him. It was a pretty smile. At least he thought it was pretty.

Maybe he should work here.

“Would you like to come to the back to help, or would you want to just wait around while I finish with this batch of drinks?” you asked, pointing behind your shoulder at the register. He didn’t look confused, but you added anyway. “You were already hired when the response letter was sent to you. You didn’t come here for an interview, I reckon. You came here for an explanation, which will help you determine whether you want to work here.”

Jisung breathed out an unsteady laugh. “Oh, I’m just looking for a part-time job while I work through university. I am fine with anything… even though I quit my last job, so clearly I wasn’t fine with anything…” The last part was mostly silent. After beating himself up enough, he perked up and nodded surely. “I think I will work here and see for myself. I’m sure you guys don’t have any policy I haven’t seen before!”

You giggled humorously at his response. How clueless, how cute. “This is not an ordinary coffee shop, Jisung.”

“You guys sell coffee, no?” he questioned.

“Hmm…,” you hummed, mirroring his questioning pitch, “we sell more than that.”

“Oh, is this one of those–“ Jisung snapped his fingers to conjure up the right words. He probably shouldn’t be talking to you so casually, but he could not help himself. You were the one who started speaking informally. You were only influencing him. “Marketing schemes? Where you guys say you’re selling coffee and something cheesy, like a homey environment?” He used air quotes, which, again, he probably should not be in his position. He just could not help it!

You scoffed. “No, but I’m glad you think this place is homey.”

“Actually, that was just an example. In fact, I think this place can use a bit more feeling of domesticity,” Jisung said, seemingly building up his confidence with each word he spoke. He rubbed his hands together as if he was in deep thought, and then he made a noise when he finally settled with an example to his suggestion. “Maybe somebody like me? I’m friendly, and all the neighborhood grandmas tell me I am adorable, like a stuff-cheeked squirrel.”

You could not see why the Entity wanted him unless it has a slowly revealing secret of choosing personality over actual competence. It would be harsh to judge Jisung so quickly, which you knew. His ridiculousness was overshadowing any specks of natural assumption in people you have that he could be very competent at this job. Not that this job requires much real effort on a daily basis, but when it does come a time that effort is needed, absolutely nobody could slack behind, or the result would surely be bloody.

Jisung responded to your judgemental eyes with a blushed smile. You sighed inwardly—he was cute, though.

“Would you help me, Jisung?” you asked again; you would just have to explain on the way. He got the feeling you were asking him to get on board. Expectant eyes stared up at him, and a smile plastered on a cutely tilted head. “Please?”

Oh, he should definitely work here.

Jisung loved to pride himself as a fast learner, and he was!

He wasn’t smart, but he was clever and quick-witted. Thanks to all the years of him being a curious and rebellious child growing up and having adults around him who cared deeply for him, he often had to weasel his way out of lectures and punishments. The point stood as he grew older, with his teachers, co-workers, and (some) managers, with multiple variations of him easily escaping problems. He absorbed his surroundings and people and knew how to manipulate them.

Just not this time. Mostly because he was confused with what he was absorbing.

After agreeing to help you with the orders, Jisung anticipated being told the steps to make several cups of coffee—the easier ones, at least, like the Espressos and Americanos. But you had him on customer duty instead, which was intriguing at most. He had just realized nobody was waiting around the area for their order when you mentioned it. When he asked about it, you told him it was because the process of making a drink was better off staying confidential, which was, again, intriguing at most.

He had worked as a barista for so long and seen so few variations to making the same caffeinated drinks that he could hardly believe there was anything special about the menu of this particular shop. Besides, customers were usually not perceptive enough to stalk the process of a barista making their coffee, let alone steal the recipe or complain about it. He had seen some before, but they were a rare breed of people!

He begrudgingly agreed to serve the customers, even he was unsure why he was being defensive about the task. That invited even more interesting rules you gave him.

Firstly, he was told not to introduce himself or make unnecessary conversations. Initially, Jisung thought it was a work ethic issue—chatting with a customer for too long will delay the working pace! He understood that and did not care much about talking to the customers anyway. Except you added clarification that he did not ask for, which was that you guys did not need any rare but possible (and unnecessary) mishaps in memory erasure when the customers leave.

Secondly, as he watched you make the drinks in hopes of getting a glimpse of the process, he learned one of two things: the tiny boxes behind him held lumps of dust of different colors, and you mixed them into the drink. The first thing you did for every cup was add the dust that looked like craft shop dust glitters. Nothing about it looked edible to Jisung. Everything about it looked like the materials pre-schoolers will slap on a Mother’s Day card. When he asked about it, you said they were personality dust, and it would do him nicely not to inhale nor taste them.

Lastly, there was nothing on the cups. There were no labels, no names, and no order abbreviations. There were only patterns. Each coffee cup has a unique design; chalk stripe, pinstripe, checkers, plaid, and whatnot. You informed him that every customer has a charm bracelet made of patterned pearls around their wrist. The patterns on the cups reflect the ones on the bracelet identically, so all he needed to do was to obverse and hand the drinks out. No calling names, no asking about anything. Just serve the drinks and leave.

These were a set of exceptional rules. Bizarre ones! Most of what he was cautioned not to do was against the customer service etiquette he has spent years honing, and the way the customers behaved was also out of normality. Everything so far has made him a point that said working here would be easier than usual but also unfamiliar. Extraordinarily unfamiliar.

“How are you doing, Jisung?” you asked after you collected all the leftover bracelets from the trinket plate left just by the back exit of the shop. Customers were instructed to drop them off when they leave. “You seem unwell.”

“That’s harsh. I don’t think I look that worn out,” Jisung muttered.

“Not worn out,” you said as you approached the fireplace and reached for the key cabinet. You hung the bracelets on their respective slots within the cabinet before closing it. You turned back to Jisung, your expression monotonous. “Just confused.”

“I am confused,” he replied as he crossed his arms. He regarded with you faint distaste. It was a misplaced judgment of how he felt about everything he had learned about this coffee shop so far. “You guys have interesting rules here.”

“This is not an ordinary coffee shop.”

“Yeah, okay–” He pursed his lips shut and heaved a deep breath. Whoever was behind this marketing scheme to be different and unique has got to quit it because authentic things can only stay authentic for a maximum of two months before becoming annoying. And this whole extraordinary concept you were selling him was getting on his nerves. “That is not remotely true about anything these days.”

“What is? Extra ordinem?”

“What is that?”

“Latin.”

“Oh, my sincere apologies. Public school didn’t exactly teach me a dead language,” he said with a few nods of false acknowledgment. “Is that a requirement? Do I need to be fluent in an obscure language to work here? Something like Sanskrit?”

“Oh, I know Sanskrit.”

“Of course you do.” It came out as a defeated whisper. Jisung rubbed his eyes and thought using humor as a defense mechanism against whatever he felt would do well. “Actually, let’s switch the roles for a bit. I want to talk to your manager about something.”

“You can’t do that until you have officially signed the contract to work here,” you hummed, giving him a brief glare for his snarky remark as you turned away from him to head to the counter. “Which I am just getting to before you interrupted me, by the way.”

You kicked the counter once and walked through the space. You moved toward where you last brought out the dial phone, Jisung recognized, and you repeated the action you did to turn the wall around. You knocked on the space between the drawer rows twice. He counted how this operation unfolded: two knocks, the ground shakes, and the wall turns. But, instead of a dial phone, what came about this time was a podium with a comically oversized leather notebook.

Dust filled the nearby air when you closed the notebook. It was as heavy as you expected; you have never had to take it off the podium. Holding it to your chest, you turned around, noticed the steam machine, and paused with a forgetful gasp. You had to key in the code for the teleportor. Shifting to the side, you put the notebook on the counter before going to the steam machine.

There was a sequence to what to push, what degree to turn the dials, and when to pull on its handles. Jisung noticed it through some obscure form of rhythmic measure he could hear from how you handled the steam machine. The steam machine whistled with an airy heat, like the starting of a steam locomotive. When you were done, the fireplace ignited with a burning flame. The flame blew out as abruptly as it started, startling Jisung for the second time.

He stared at the fireplace with big, jittery eyes. But the way you slowly pulled the notebook back to your chest and left from behind the counter did not go unnoticed. You made your way near the fireplace and turned around, beckoning him over to you. Jisung furrowed his brows and fidgeted with his legs as if debating if he wanted to move anywhere near a self-igniting fireplace.

“Let’s stop stalling,” you urged just a beat before he jogged over to you, causing him to scoff in irritation.

“I wouldn’t stall so much if you would give me a thorough explanation of what is happening around here,” he retorted. “I don’t want to participate in any unsafe work environment charges.”

“You won’t have to if you don’t sue us.” You pointed into the fireplace, mostly giving him dull eyes and ignoring his comments about everything he came across. “Crawl through the tunnel.”

“Wow! You are just full of surprises!” Jisung clapped his hands loudly. His smile looked delirious. “Did you not hear what I said about unsafe workplace environment?”

You rolled your eyes. There should be nowhere more notorious than where you work when it comes to unsafe workplace environments. If Jisung were worried about safety—first of all, the Entity would have never set eyes on him in the first place. It must have been that he has another quality so overwhelmingly beneficial to this service chain that the Entity decided to take a risk and recruited him. Secondly, if Jisung were worried about safety, you genuinely would not recommend him signing any contracts today. If anything, he should make his way out now.

But you must explain everything for him to make an informed decision, so it was through the tunnel willingly or—you pursed your lips together—a slight change of plans.

“Fine,” you sighed with a dramatic shoulder slump. “All subtly is gone.”

You clicked the heel of your right shoe against the ground, scraping it more than landing it. Then, with much effort, you slapped your hands twice. The ground rumbled, but this time the floor began to spiral in addition to the Earthquake. Sounds of rusty gears reverberated off the walls like a stereotypical factory, moving something out of sight. Most things stayed in place, not at all bothered by the shaking.

Jisung went on his tip-toes in response to the spinning floor, but he soon realized that while the ground under his feet was moving, he was not. He gawked at you in disbelief when he saw that you were only patiently standing off the side, waiting for a result he wasn’t sure about. Then he had a thought that perhaps you were used to this. But the only reason he could fathom this being a common occurrence was that the design of this coffee shop has got to be phenomenal, and he had already rejected that assumption a while ago.

A pair of single vinyl sofas and a tall, round coffee table rolled into the room. When they were set in place near where Jisung was standing—the back of the sofa nudged his hip—the ground stopped shaking. Jisung whipped his head from the sofa to you. For some reason, he decided not to run for the door. Something told him that if this was the level of abnormality the coffee shop could produce, the door leading outside must not be outside.

Not to say he came to that conclusion because he did not believe in magic. Rather, he believed in a well-practiced production team and the greatness of technology. With a full head of modern, sensible options to choose from, Jisung decided this must be the second coming of The Truman Show. Or something like that, at least. He wondered if he would get compensated for this. Maybe he would sue, just not for poor workplace environment.

“Sit down, Jisung,” you asked after you set the notebook on the table. You picked a sofa and rested yourself atop it, waiting for him to do the same but choosing not to stall anymore. “This must all be confusing to you–“

“Is this a variety show prank?” He cut you off with a twirling finger pointing at the ceiling. When you bewilderedly gave him no response, he sucked in a notable breath and leaned back against the chair. He crossed his legs and shrugged, almost smugly, as if it was a huge accomplishment to bust your little broadcasting scheme. “I have to say; this is all very well done. But I think I’ve acted like an idiot enough for thirty minutes' worth of content, so please ask the editing team to blur my face, or else I will sue.”

“You can’t sue us,” you said, with deadpan eyes and a deadpan tone. This really has dragged on long enough. “We don’t exist anywhere on the government registry.”

“What? You guys are independent?”

“Technically,” you nodded, “we work for the higher-ups.”

He smirked questioningly. “So, the government?”

“Think high as in literally.”

He furrowed his brows, his smile depleting seconds longer because he was thinking deeply about this. “Like…” he grumbled, “Gods?”

“There you go. It’s not that hard.” You clapped your hands softly in a mocking mannerism. “Not directly, though. We work for Entities, who work for Gods.”

He opened his mouth, debating what he should say. If growing up in a religious school has taught him anything, it was that God is not real. It could be a gross case of misplacing his hatred for the school system, and in general, the school itself that made him come to the conclusion. But he has generally never broken out of that realm of thought, and he didn’t think he ever would in the future. Today was not going to be the day his belief got questioned.

“I am not religious,” he informed.

“Sure. That means nothing to me, and I reckon it means nothing to them too.” You shrugged dismissively. “You don’t have to believe in them. You just have to abide by them.”

He tilted his head in unwilling agreement. If anybody here should know about abiding by values they do not believe in, out of fear or shame or any outrageous emotions, it should be he who the less-than-gracious societal standards have touched. He has been doing that since he began his studies at the religious primary school, after all.

He could humor this.

“Okay,” he said and crossed his fingers. “What do you have for me?”

“A thorough explanation,” you replied. “And a fair warning to please listen very carefully to what I say in the next few minutes because I hate to repeat tedious information. Once you sign the contract, you cannot terminate it unless of exceptional circumstances.”

Well, somebody should really sue this place.

Jisung was not religious.

You were not asking him to be.

It felt like you were, though. Either that or you thought he was stupid. Not just out of a strange dislike but genuinely. Both of which left a bad taste in his mouth. But this was going too far and too specific into detail that it was out of place to settle it all with scamming as a solution. If this wasn’t a scam, then this must be a cult. A cult that believed in specific cosmic energy. But not even the internet tarot readers would go as far as to renovate an entire shop to sell a belief! There was no way.

That left him one last, unwilling option: this must be real.

From the Goddess’s sacrifice in a war from a time he couldn’t begin to date back, to the creation of this coffee shop and a chain of other shops under the same magical premise, to the powerful beings with no forms that were basically in the position of a branch manager—this whole shebang must be real. And he, Han Jisung, who does not have a fulfilling life mapped before him, was somehow selected to serve here.

On second thought, the most outrageous thing you have said so far was that he, of all people, was chosen.

“What was the war about?”

“The war is inconsequential,” you replied with a brief smile, finding it hilarious that the war was what he decided to ask about first.

“Didn’t a lot of people die from the war?” he questioned with an incredulous but still righteous-sounding whisper. “That is why the Goddess died, wasn’t it?”

“But did you die in the war?” you asked rhetorically before you shrugged. “You didn’t. Then it shouldn’t matter.”

“It’s history. A tragic one at that,” he argued while maintaining his previously low tone. “War is war. A massacre is a massacre.” He eyed you carefully, trying to access you more than you were letting on for him to see. You looked like a human, but he was still in the unknown about what you were. He wanted to know. He wanted to find an excuse behind that seemingly apathetic demeanor.

“Yet you can learn nothing from it, and you can do nothing to prevent it if it happens again,” you said with a raised brow. You had not meant for the mood to dampen, but you would take no attitude from any boy with a false sense of heroism today. “What is history worth if it’s just a story?”

Folktales, fairy tales, and fables. Raconteurs do not tell lessons from pure imagination. Everything children have ever read was real somewhere within this vast universe. They were all history—Cinderella’s dream coming to an end, the flock of sheep that died because of a boy’s deceptive mischief, and Thumbelina’s home being turned into a fuming factory. The original story is always history, and the subsequent renditions are the result of creativity, which was still one of the greatest gift a God has ever given mankind.

Yet they were not important. You learn from stories, and you never execute their morals. Why? Just because they were contained in colorful spines and spoken through a soft mother’s mouth?

“I did not mean to say the war is unimportant in the foundation it set for the world to be where it is now,” you added. “But neither were you there at that time, nor have you been working in the structural manifestation of its consequences long enough to care, have you?”

“It’s worth it because I care,” Jisung said after a moment of silence. He looked determined; the answer did not come out of spite. “You told me what happened, and I am in the know now, so I care. I don’t have to have experienced it.”

History matters because story matters. Stories of humanity, stories of humans, stories of people; they all matter. He was born in this generation because people cared enough about each other to keep each other alive and going. There were old stories about strangers he had never met because someone once loved them so much that they could not contain their legacy in memories alone. History matters because story matters because love matters.

You debated against telling him the little impact his care has on the world. Taking a mental step back, you slumped against the sofa and nodded in agreement to seal the conversation. What mattered now was to get the hiring orientation over with.

“Do you have any more questions for me?”

Jisung flashed his determined eyes at you, a result of his previously one-sided agitating conversation. He quickly bounced from the brewing distaste onto his usual humorous demeanor. He cleared his throat and mimicked the motion of rolling open a very long scroll. The scroll would obviously be full of questions, but much different than the performative ones he would ask at an actual job interview.

“What is the compensation for working here?” He wiggled his brows at you with a smile.

“Anything reasonable and within the limits of what an Entity can or is allowed to do. The kick is that it doesn’t have to be money,” you said with a snap of your finger. “One of my colleagues asked for a five hours extension on one of the nights last month to study for an exam.”

“Cool. Have the manager know my first paycheck will be at least five thousand dollars,” he hummed. “Next question! Do I get to do all those house tricks you did?”

“You would have to,” you replied with a shake of your head, unsure why he even asked the question. “Additional to the tricks, you will also be granted special abilities.”

��I was getting to that!” He closed the imaginative scroll in his hands. For a moment, his expression flattened with seriousness. This part was important to him because of his excitement to obtain superpowers (a childhood dream of his, one could say) and his curiosity to understand the need for him to have them. “We need those abilities because of unforeseen attacks, right?”

“Yes.” You nodded.

“Do you know why they happen?” he questioned.

Those were not detailed in books. Being an avid reader, you have concluded that one requirement of understanding the books in The Repository is comprehension skills. Books of Life describe actions and events but do not discuss emotions and thought processes. Why did this person do this? Why did this person choose a particular someone? The books do not detail the reason, just the action. Reasons can only be found in a reader’s interpretation.

To answer Jisung, you have no idea. You could only guess, and you had developed an elaborate assumption long ago. You just have no wish to indulge Jisung in it today.

“Why do people do anything?” you countered.

Jisung sighed. His best guess was for power. It seemed to always lead back to that.

“The Entities have a protective barrier around all the cosmic shops to prevent attacks, so we are mostly safe. But the barriers are essentially useless if faced by a creature whose power is on par with them.”

Jisung deduced the rest by himself. He has read enough comic books and watched enough movies to understand what you meant. If any creature is to barge into the store, there is a very high likelihood that the creature would be of the same caliber as an Entity. Hostility paired with high power—he did not need a demonstration from celestial beings to predict the chaos that particular duo could cause. It was already happening on Earth.

“Has anyone ever died from an attack?” he asked.

“Not that I know of. Heavily injured? Yes. Died? Not sure.” You shook your head. “We don’t talk about it. If you really want to know, you best consult the librarian.”

“A librarian, like from the… you know,” he waved his hand as if gesturing at a God standing behind him, “non-human library? Is there one?”

“Yes. It’s called The Repository. It is the only all-knowing thing in this universe.” You laughed briefly at his thoughtful expression. Then you began to hum. “I think our current librarian is a human boy, though. The previous librarian stepped down and is now practicing alchemy in the tower instead. He is an owl.”

“Does the owl talk?”

“He does.”

“Do you think he will let me record him if I ask politely?” Jisung joked, but some degree of his voice showed that he was seriously anticipating agreement from you. This was all new to him, but the excitement of welcoming a magical world into his existence simply could not be contained with disbelief alone.

You snorted at the idea. The owl was but an old man in animal form. There was not one menacing bone in its body. “He loves flattery, so that might be the way to go.”

He grinned. He didn’t actually plan to videotape the talking alchemist owl. Come to think of it, how fascinating it would be to get a taste of alchemy finally? Let alone meeting a sentient owl that has enough intelligence to practice it. That would be cool. It sounded fake; Jisung still had lingering doubts about everything. Reacting so calmly and floating with the process like this was extraordinary of him.

A timid corner of him wanted to be part of something greater, something magical, something untouched by regularity. Because throughout his life, he has been underwhelming. Nothing valuable comes from a boy pursuing a creative future that would bring him nowhere because he was both unlucky and simply not good enough. That was it for him—a mistake made during freshman year in college that would soon dictate the rest of his life.

Unless he chooses to be a barista at an otherworldly coffee shop.

“So…” Jisung muttered with his eyes on his hands. He played with his calloused fingers, fading wounds on his skin from guitar strings reminding him how his life could be more significant. He slowly peeked at you when he finished his sentence, “When do I start work?”

You clenched your fists together. Jisung wanted to work here. That signaled the end of an era of you working alone, facing monsters alone, and being alone. A spark of excitement ignited within you like you hadn’t heard good news in a while. You contained it professionally and sealed the vault with a thankful smile. He was taken back by the sincerity of it, and a sudden blush crept onto his cheeks.

He knew this from the moment he saw you; time hasn’t altered his opinion. You were very pretty to him.

“They will send you the work schedule after you sign the contract and get your gift from the tree,” you informed as you touched the leather notebook on the table. You opened the spine to reveal two pieces of paper stuck to the back. They were employee profiles. You turned the book around and pointed at Jisung’s profile sheet. “Check your details and give me your hand.”

Jisung schemed through the information. He never checked them once throughout his life, not at the doctor’s office, not when he was applying to university, and not even when he was renewing his passport at the government center. The odds that there would be an error is too low. Nodding and humming in mindless agreement, Jisung paid more attention to the profile structure than the information printed on top, and he gave you his hand.

You huffed at his carelessness but said nothing. Taking the first page of the notebook between your fingers, you guided Jisung’s thumb to the slit of the parchment paper and swiftly nicked his skin with it. He winded with a strangled yell, surprised and obviously pained. Retracting his hand, he held his thumb and squeezed to numb the pain. He panicked when more blood trickled out, and his next instinct was to get it away from his clothes.

“What the fuck?” he accused.

“You need to sign the contract. I already told you,” you replied with a point to the end of his profile sheet. “You also need the blood for the tree.”

“This is a lawsuit waiting to happen!” he hollered as he stamped his thumb to the paper, leaving a print. Unlike his expectations, nothing happened. It was just a bloody thumbprint.

You ignored him as you shut the notebook. Standing up, you briefly gestured for him to follow you before shuffling on your way. You quickly ran behind the register counter to return the log book where it belonged, then you approached the fireplace and pointed at it for another attempt. This one would be smoother, you believed.

“Crawl through the tunnel,” you demanded.

Jisung scoffed, and one side of his lips quirked with unwilling smugness. He kicked his feet and glared at you as if telling you he was going to do it anyway, so you should have asked him nicely. You rolled your eyes as he knelt before the pit. He grimaced when his hands touched the burnt wood, but he continued through and squeezed his small shoulders through the fireplace. You followed behind him closely.

It did not take long for you both to come out the other side. Jisung could already see the brightness from inside the tunnel, but his eyes still needed a short adjustment period when his head popped out through the hole of a tree. He forced his body out of the hole and carefully stood up, his eyes still squeezed shut to accommodate the sudden sunlight. You did the same but with more familiarity and dusted your apron like you always did after crawling through the tunnel.

Jisung rubbed his eyes harshly a few times and blinked to process. The wind picked up behind him as his sight welcomed a never-ending meadow, something like a fairy-tale garden or an enchanted forest. Flowers grew on all grassy surfaces, with tender trees lodged far and between. A curved walking trial could be seen leading up to what seemed to be the biggest tree he could find in the area, and when he squinted, he could find a picnic table with several chairs around it.

“Come on. We need to get to the tree,” you urged with a tap on his shoulder.

Jisung followed behind you. There was a pattern in his steps; he admired the scenery, and sometimes he would stop to check something out before hustling to catch up with your pace. He wanted you to give him time to take everything in, or maybe even more to explore this place, but he supposed work will always be work. He would have more time here when he began his work.

“Where is this?” He asked after his third time catching up to you.

“This is the Glory Garden,” you replied. “Do you remember the drawers behind us on the wall? We get the personality dust we store there primarily from this place.”

He kept a confused smile on his face. “Personality dust?”

“Yeah, that is what we sell,” you said casually. “I planned to tell you once you start training.”

“You guys sell personality dust?”

“No, we sell personalities.”

He stopped in his tracks with a head tilt, squinting at you. First of all, like almost everything that has happened, that sounded fake. Second of all, that was a significant part of the coffee shop operation that you have conveniently left out of the explanation. He wasn’t sure if the sale aspect of this business was anything important to mention, but should you not have told him anyway? Third of all, selling personalities? Give him a break!

“You can’t sell personalities,” he laughed.

You turned around to face him. There was not one ounce of argumentative gleam in your eyes, only exhaustion and perhaps a mildly irritated speck. With a face like his, it was a waste for him to be so upsettingly redundant.

“This is where you draw the line?” you asked. “You just crawled into a fireplace, through a tunnel in the fireplace, and out to a meadow that doesn’t exist on Earth. But this is where you choose to use your critical thinking skills?”

He furrowed his brows. That felt like a personal attack on his intelligence. “I don’t like your tone.”

“Start liking it then,” you retorted quickly before spinning on your heels and walking away. You added with a wave of your hand, though, just for some self-entertainment. “You can do it. You’re smart.”

Jisung snorted in disbelief as he watched your back. He pointed accusingly after you, faint curses flowing from his lips like a waterfall. But there was a smile on his face. Running a hand through his hair, Jisung licked the corner of his mouth and pulled his lips into a grin because he secretly liked it. He wasn’t sure what he liked; the subtle distaste you two have for each other? Your irritation with him and his utter lack of trust in you? The kind of light-hearted rivalry he read so much about in comic books? Perhaps. Or it could be his crush on you making the judgment.

He chased after you, jogging along the only walking path in the meadow. You soon led him to a flower bed filled with variations; sunflowers, tulips, peonies, lilies, and many more he could not recognize. But the most intriguing about the flower bed was that all of them were abnormally tall and squeezed closely together. It seemed the further the bed went, the higher the flowers were, starting from his waist and going over his head.

There was an opening in the middle of two overhead roses. You had to push them apart to open the path up ahead. The more Jisung saw it, the more this flower bed felt like a trap. A human catching device of sorts, he was imagining. Something the fantasy people created to catch intruders who did not have the purest of hearts!

“Stupid… stupid… stupid…”

“The flowers can read your thoughts,” you told him without looking back. “They’re calling you stupid.”

“I would make a problematic joke, but I’m walking inside you guys right now–” Jisung pursed his lips when he processed what he said. He shook his hand before his mouth to forgo his poor word choices mentally and also his horrible thoughts of cutting this whole flower bed down with a construction truck. He hasn’t learned how not to think whatever he wants to yet. “Please don’t kill me.”

The flowers continued with their one-word insult until the end of the path. Coming out from the other side was the beginning or the end of a cave with heavy moss vines hanging over it like a door. Jisung peeked through the gaps as he walked out of the cave, and his brows raised. He turned to look behind his shoulder; all he could see was darkness.

This place felt hollow. It was under the same sun, but the ancient trees forced the lights to dim with no gaps between their leaves and branches. Sounds of cicadas filled the forest, mixing with the gentle swings of wind against the surface of all the plants in this place. Everything was quiet and old, and humid. This was the type of place people go to for peace of mind or to end their lives. There must be a lake here somewhere that somebody has jumped and drowned in. A refugee, a God, a girl and a boy.

“Do you see that tree there?” you asked gently as you pointed upward.

Jisung trailed after the direction and faced up. He could see it, but seeing only parts of a colossal log hidden behind the fog was weird. “That is where we’re going.”

“That is where we’re going,” you repeated in confirmation.

You two walked. Jisung tested himself on his memorization to find out he was quite directionally challenged. Still, he pushed back against the defeating thought with the excuse that not only was this forest enormous, but he was also still in a state of shock, and this was only his first time here. He should redo the test when he has done enough exploration. He reckoned he would do much better.

After a few minutes of non-stop walking, you finally stopped. Before you both was a wall of thick fog, Jisung could not begin to try and see into it. You rubbed your hands together to combat the sudden cold created by the mist. Then you turned halfway around to alert for his attention. You reached your hand out to him, waiting.

“Take my hand,” you said. “You’ll get lost in there.”

“Is that true, or are you flirting with me?” he said with a loud chuckle.

“My friend almost died in there.”

Jisung’s hand flew into yours with a solemn nod. He apologized under his breath, not quite meeting your eyes after the foolery he unknowingly pulled. You found his reaction amusing, mostly because you were lying.

The fog never kills; it only loses people. You remembered the first time you arrived at this place with Hyunjin. You two came across each other at the flower bed path leading to the forest—called The Green Hallow, you later learned—and decided to walk together for company. After heading into the fog, you two separated and became increasingly lost as you attempted to find each other. Once you two did, Hyunjin grabbed your hand and did not let go until you both reached the other side.

You did the same with Jisung. His hand was soft in yours as you walked straight ahead without changing the angle of your steps. Keep straight, do not falter, and go through the fog. Coming out the other side was The Oak Fort—a sanctuary separated from the rest of the forest, protected by the power of the most ancient oak tree in the universe. This place was different from the forest; quieter but with tranquility, and there were gentle sounds of wind chimes in the air.

Jisung looked above and noticed the twisting branches poking out below the clouds, circling the fort like a dome. The most ancient tree, the wisest tree, the most powerful tree. You let go of his hand, and he reacted by staring at the sudden cold that hit his palm. He threw off the feeling and followed you. He stepped across the narrow stream of water near where the tree's root submerged into the ground and met you in the middle.

“Touch the tree with your palm. Make sure your blood gets on it," you instructed before taking a few steps back to give him privacy.

His helpless eyes lingered on you, and part of him relaxed when you smiled encouragingly at him. He looked back at the tree and heaved a deep sigh. He thought he was hallucinating blood spots on the wood; marks left behind by previous workers. This was what he wanted. This was what he agreed to! He had already signed the contract, so he couldn’t get out of it even if he wanted to now. Press his palm, and his life changes forever, for better or for worse.

Biting his lower lip slightly, he abruptly flatted his palm against the tree branch.

You watched with anticipation what would happen. From your experience, when you and Hyunjin received your respective gifts, the tree produced a different reaction. You both deduced that whatever happens during the process reflects the gift that the tree grants. That assumption was later confirmed by your research on the oak tree in the library. Looking forward, though, there didn’t seem to be much happening.

Jisung looked up with confusion. A sudden recoil of dread salivated in his mouth then—could this be rejection? Was the tree refusing him a position at the shop? Could the tree even make a decision like that? Well, of course, it can! It is the most ancient tree ever! It must have been through countless wars and seen numerous generations! It could probably even fish out the fact that he sucked! If anything has a say in who could work in a store made out of pure magical bullshit, it would be the tree!

Jisung abruptly choked on thin air, grasping for oxygen. His body struggled against sudden immobility. He was too busy arguing with his head. Even if he wasn’t, this was all too sudden for him to properly react anyway. Your wide eyes fixed on Jisung, unclear of the usual violence you were seeing until you took a risky step forward and squinted your eyes. They were barely visible but wrapped tightly around his limbs, and his throat was spider silk.

But they were not soft. They were cold and threatening, like metal wires thin enough to cut your head off cleanly. After a moment, they began to burn at his skin like splatters of boiled water he could not avoid. It hurt. The burning hurt. And he could barely breathe. Unbeknownst to Jisung, the spider silk glowed a faint golden color as it submerged into his skin, giving his vein the natural magic the tree had taken out of itself. That was where the burning came from; not the submersion but the magic.

The magic was where the pain came from.

When the gifting process was done, Jisung dropped harshly to the ground and sobbed out the fear. “What the fuck! What the fucking was that–fucking shit–what–“ He got thrown into a coughing fit simultaneously as he sucked in as much oxygen as he could. “Fuck you! What was that? That sucked balls!”

“Do you curse this much regularly?” you muttered as you helped him up.

“Fuck you, I thought I was going to die,” he retaliated tearfully while accepting your help. The redness on his face slowly faded as reality returned to him. “Damn it. I thought it was going to be butterflies and rainbows.”

“With magic? Never,” you giggled. “Magic always comes with a price, especially when people who normally wouldn’t have it use it. We all went through the same thing when we got our abilities, and we all have to look after the possible consequences of using them.”

Jisung eyed you with narrowed eyes. That made him feel better. He thought he was, embarrassingly, the odd one out; the only one who got his bones and pipes knocked out of him by a tree. An ancient magical tree, but still a damn tree nonetheless! Sighing audibly, he asked, “What was yours like?”

You hummed. “I was suffocating until the tree was done. Not gasping for air, suffocating. No air in or out of me at all.”

“That sounds better than what happened to me,” Jisung scowled.

You rolled your eyes. It was not a competition, but if you had to pick a person—or a pair of people who got it the worst? “I think the two working at the music store got it the worst, actually,” you mentioned with a grimace. “One of them was bleeding by the end of it, everywhere. The other one got a tree branch shoved down his throat.”

Chan and Changbin began working for the cosmic stores after you. You were not there during their gifting process, but you were there in The Repository when Changbin barged through the doors with a heavily wounded Chan on his back, looking for help. One of the creatures that emerged from the fog after the gifting process led them through the hidden cave in the middle of the oak tree. That directly led them to the library tower.

The alchemist owl was the one who tended to them. You remembered it giving Changbin a cup of dark green goo to drink, instructing that it would be needed to get the wood residues out of his body. You made friends with him as you gave him a tour of the library; it was just to help him swallow down the disgusting drink, really.

“That’s a lawsuit,” Jisung mused under his breath to combat the disgusted itch clambering at his throat by simply imagining what you just told him. He rubbed the base of his neck after he caught a glimpse of your deadpan, and he smiled. “It’s not funny anymore, huh?”

“It never was.”

“Oh.” He rolled his eyes and whistled. “Harsh.” He liked it. “So, what now?”

“You’re done. Now you go back to Earth and wait for your schedule,” you said. “Oh! Before I forget–this should go without saying, but no using any of your abilities outside of,” you waved your arms about, “this setting. Unless you are coming for work, then you are allowed to use magic to get any door to lead here.”

“The superpowers work outside of,” he mimicked the waves of your arms, “this setting?”

“Yes,” you sighed in defeat. You could not tell if he was mocking you or trying to make a serious joke. “Please don’t use it outside of… this setting….”

Jisung hummed in agreement. There was a lower chance of him attempting to use magic on Earth if you never even told him he could in the first place. Besides, who would believe him? Nothing is what meets the eye these days, even if they are real. He wouldn’t, though. He would listen to you.

“Okay.” A small smile peeked at the corner of your lips. “Welcome to The Masquerade, by the way. That is our shop’s name. Masks, personalities, you know.”

“Haha…” Jisung let out a wiggle of laughter that died down quickly. Not because he felt awkward but because he was deep in thought. It took him a short moment to speak. “A Masquerade, a mask parade.”

You blinked with pity. Jisung pursed his lips together and forced a grin on his face.

It would be a tough crowd from now on.

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my-daily-life95 · 1 year

Text

August 26, 2023

It's been a bit since I last made a journaling post on here. I kinda lost motivation to write anything on here and in my physical journal. It's a little sad since I miss it. A few times I pulled up this app or even my journal yet nothing happened. No words would come out. I'm in a journaling slump. Though right now I am writing. It's an improvement.

Anyways a small update on my life. Hurricane Hilary came and went. Where I live there are still road closers from it. I had to work on the Sunday it hit. I have never seen so much rain fall in such a short time. I was scared for that bit. I thought I would have to sleep at work. By 8 pm it calmed down and I decided to go home. I only worked six hours that day but I was anxious. I said fuck work and went home. There was so much water and a few fallen trees from the wind. There were also a lot of cops driving around since the line for 911 was down. I have lived in a desert my whole life and I honestly was scared of the Hurricane.

I wrote a letter to a friend of mine that I have "know" for a few years. We used to send letters pretty often when we were younger. We stopped talking for a few years but they reached out. Now we talk on a regular basis which is nice. I'm too much of a coward to reach out to people and I told them so in the letter. I never met this person face to face before. We met off Wattpad when we were in high school. They live on the other side of the country. We talked about meeting hopefully sometime next year. It will be nice to properly meet them. I hope I can meet them.

I have two job interviews this upcoming Thursday. I'm still looking for a second job. I'm really hoping one of them will hire me. I really do need that extra income. I can't keep relaying on loans. I'm going to do my best! I have to do my best. Show those people that I'm good at what I do! I got this!!

I builded a book shelf for my youngest sister. It was a struggle. Nothing was cooperating with me. I have builded plenty of furniture by myself and this one book shelf frustrated me to the ends of the Earth. Still the book shelf was built and it looks good. I don't know where my sister bought it from since the box was extremely beat up. No instructions but all the parts were there. Oh well.

Ah this is a bit TMI but I have a yeast infection at the moment. Man it's not fun at all. It's the second time I have had one. Luckily this one isn't as severe as the first one. The first one was bad bad. This one is ok just mostly itchy. I know it's due to my poor lifestyle of no exercise and bad eating habits. I just can't seem to motivate myself to do anything at the moment. I literally spend my days off laying in bed watching tiktok, reading the same fanfic over and over, or playing Tears of the Kingdom. How the hell was I able to do a whole workout routine before? I remember I had specific days I worked out and now I can't even get out of bed. Hell, I even used to do one dance a day since I'm always listening to music. I still listen to music but now I just move my head instead of dance. Oh well. I know my happy ass will just randomly start doing it again. It's a cycle I'm pretty sure of it. A terrible cycle for sure.

I think that's it for updates right now. I had today off and like stated before I spent it in bed. My bed really is comfy. I did just wash the sheets. Also the room has been cold recently so it makes me want to get off even less. God, I'm a mess. Anyways here's a picture from the day before Hurricane Hilary hit. It looked apocalyptic to me.

#online diary #diary #journaling #journal #my life #online journal #my diary #my thoughts #my daily life

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cas1cielo · 2 years

Text

Tales of an Office Worker: Prologue

Pairing: Secretary Reader x Corporate Seventeen( in later chapters)

Word Count: 464

Warnings: None yet

After a grueling 20 minutes of filling out the application form, you finally clicked SUBMIT. It would be a lie to say this was your first online application or the fifth one today but, this job hunt has been going on for about two weeks and finding a decent secretarial job has been proving harder than expected. All top lawyer firms, doctor offices and clinics haven’t returned as much a text, this was your last shot, Carat.Inc. One of the most influential companies in your city. Their current CEO, Choi Seungcheol, is reported to be the most eligible bachelor and incredibly rich with a sucky work attitude but in his reign, the company had expanded into worldwide markets and distributing services. Sighing, you read the words “ Thank you for submitting an application. Our hiring department will be in contact with you shortly.”

Hopefully this would be an unprecedented stroke of luck but, worrying about it would only make your hair fall out. Closing your laptop, you made your way into the bedroom and just out of pure exhaustion collapsed into the fluffy white sheets. Drowsiness slowly enveloped your senses along with warmth emanating from the blanket, before you knew it you were fast asleep.

The sound of your ringtone jerked you out of slumber into a dizzying wakefulness, a bad had you got into since the job hunt started. There your phone threatened to fly off the nightstand as you quickly glanced at the caller ID, UNKNOWN, and reluctantly accepted the call.

“Hello?” You cleared your throat

“Hi, may I speak to (y/n)?” A pensive male voice responded.

“She’s speaking.”

“Good Afternoon (y/n)” The voice immediately turned brighter. “Sorry for calling so late in the day but my name is Lee Jihoon with Carat Company. I wanted to talk to you about your application.” Your face reached a hundred degrees running over every possible mistake you’ve could’ve made. It wouldn’t hurt to ask so,“ Did I mess something up or miss a section?” You asked with anxiety skyrocketing. Jihoon let out a small laugh,” Actually, your credentials and experience are perfect. You’re exactly what we’ve been looking for here. Is it possible to get you here for an in person interview this week?” As quickly as the anxiety came, it was replaced with pure joy.

“Of course. I can come in tomorrow at around 11:30am. Will that be ok?” You asked.

“That would be perfect Miss (y/n). Thank you again for applying. Now tomorrow when you come in, tell the front desk that you’re there to see Woozi and the receptionist will do the rest.”

“ Okay, thank you, Mr. Lee. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You hung up with the biggest grin on your face. You’ve finally got an interview.

Next: Onboarding(Woozi)

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

If I Fell For You (Part 1) - The Nanny

Summary: The reader interviews for a new live-in nanny position with Jensen and quickly gets the job but she starts to slowly see that her new employer is going to be different than any other she’s had before...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Square: Slow Burn

Word Count: 4,800ish

Warnings: language, mention of death of a spouse/death of a parent

A/N: Please enjoy the first part of this series! This was also written for @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo!

________

If someone had said you’d be celebrating your 30th birthday by accepting an interview to be a live in nanny when you were a kid, you would have told them they were nuts. Beyond nuts. Beyond help for that matter.

But there you were. Thirty. Single. Childless. Taking care of other people’s families and not doing much else with your life. You weren’t sure if your mom would have been on you about the no kids thing or the no boyfriend thing more to be honest.

But the pay was normally good and sometimes great and it gave you a taste of family, even if you were just the help to the adults most of the time.

You buzzed the button by the gate at the end of the driveway, a brief moment passing before it opened. It was probably on a timer like most of the people you’d worked for before, an alarm system kicking on at some point in the evening that required a buzz in, the code or a car sensor. You drove down the driveway and parked a little behind a black SUV. The house was a little modern, a little grand, a little overwhelming. A fence and lots of trees surrounded the property. The yard appeared large but you could see houses on either side. Private but suburban.

The cadillac wasn’t a shocker. Most everyone in these neighborhoods had Escalades. You walked past an open garage on the way up, a muscle car and a more modest smaller SUV parked inside. You went up the very short path and stepped up, ringing the doorbell and fixing your shirt. You were in jeans and a plain gray shirt. It was your normal wear for chasing small children around all day and you weren’t a fan of uniforms.

“Hi,” said a very tired, very handsome man as he opened the door. “You must be from Nanny Core.”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N from Home Pair,” you said with a smile. He shut his eyes and leaned his head against the door.

“The last girl was from Nanny Core,” he said. He blinked them open and shook his head. “I’m so sorry. Yes, Y/N. You’re the one that’s a consultant, not firmly associated with Home Pair, right?”

“Correct,” you said as he opened the door more and you stepped inside.

“Can I ask what the distinction is?”

“Mostly it has to do with benefits,” you said. “Consultants pay out of pocket for their own or negotiate with their client for those to be covered.”

“Gotcha,” he yawned. You looked ahead and he wiped his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I must seem like an ass.”

“You seem tired is all Mr. Ackles. Not a crime,” you said with a smile. He nodded and he returned it, no fake cheesiness to it.

“Mind if we do the interview in the kitchen over a cup of coffee?” he asked.

“Wherever you like, sir,” you said. You took off your shoes when you noticed he didn’t wear any inside and he chuckled as you walked back farther into the house.

“Uh, for the record, call me Jensen. None of that sir stuff. They must teach that at nanny school or something huh?” he said, motioning to a table. “I noticed all of you do it.”

“Something like that,” you said. You took a seat and watched him go to a coffee machine, fumbling with it before he spilled some ground coffee on the counter. He shut his eyes and gripped the counter’s edge, taking a deep breath to himself. “How about I make the coffee and you take a seat, hm?”

“I’m okay,” he said as he opened his eyes.

“Well making you coffee is probably going to come up in my job quite a bit so consider this part of the interview. It’s alright, really,” you said. He glanced over to you and you smiled.

“Thank you,” he said. You swapped places with him and got him a cup going, taking a mug off the counter and waiting a beat before liquid started pouring out. “I’m gonna ask you the same question I’ve asked all seven other women I’ve talked to today.”

“Yes?”

“Why should I trust you to watch my children?”

“Honestly?” you asked as he nodded. You smiled and carried the cup over to him, Jensen taking a long sip. “You shouldn’t.”

“I shouldn’t. That seems counterproductive.”

“I wouldn’t trust any stranger with my child. Trust is earned, not given. I think the real question is do you believe I’m capable of earning that trust with you and that’s something intrinsically only you know.”

“How so?”

“You meet a lot of different kinds of people with this job. My gut reaction to you is stressed, overwhelmed, sleep-deprived father who doesn’t really want any nanny at all but is forced into this situation. It’s going to be impossible for you to trust any of the seven woman from earlier or me off the bat, Jensen. You should be thinking of who will you come to trust. Who can you count on.”

“This is why my wife should have been the one doing this,” he said, smiling to himself as he drunk down most of the hot liquid.

“We could always re-schedule for when she’s available.”

“Oh, we’d have to wait a very long time for that,” he chuckled. He sat the mug down and glanced down briefly, smiling as he looked up. “She passed away unexpectedly six months ago. Car accident.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you said. He nodded and made a face like he wanted to make a comment. “My mom died kinda unexpectedly. I know it’s...harder.”

“You’re young. How old?”

“Turned thirty today,” you said. He laughed and you heard the life behind it, Jensen shaking his head.

“Well Happy Birthday. I meant with your mother though. If that’s okay with you I mean.”

“It’s fine. I was sixteen,” you said.

“That...fucking sucks doesn’t it?”

“So does losing your wife,” you said.

“Yes it does. I’ve grieved. We all have. The kids are small. They’ll be okay.”

“Is dad okay?” you asked.

“Yes. Ready to start moving on with life again,” he said with a soft smile. “You’re kind. Not in a I’m trying to get this job kind of way. Just kind.”

“Well being cruel doesn’t sound like very much fun,” you said.

“You’re not trying to impress me.”

“The first rule of nannying, Jensen. You think you’re interviewing us when in reality we’re interviewing you too.”

“How am I doing so far?”

“Nice coffee choice,” you said with a smile that he nodded at. “You respect people. You’ll employ me but won’t treat me like I’m second class. You’re checking the boxes so far.”

“What if I don’t check all the boxes?”

“You don’t get to know the luxury of knowing the answer yet, Mr. Ackles,” you said. “Interview isn’t over.”

“You got fucked over by somebody, didn’t you.”

“Also perceptive,” you said. “Like I said, I don’t tolerate being treated unkindly anymore. It’s why I left my last position.”

“I have one more question,” he said. “Would you treat my children like they��re your own?”

“Again, asking the wrong question,” you said. He sat back and crossed his arms, smirking at you.

“What exactly should I be asking?”

“Will you treat my children kindly and with respect but take charge when required?”

“What’s the difference?”

“One is me doing my job and the other is me doing yours.”

“How old did you say you were again?”

“Thirty today.”

“Right. Well I think I know where I stand. Do you have anything for me?”

“Can you show me a picture of your kids?” you asked. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “You answered my question.”

“I didn’t show you anything yet.”

“You’d be surprised how many fathers I’ve met don’t carry pictures of their children in their wallets. That one is just a me thing.”

“Your dad do that?” he asked as he tucked it away.

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug. He was polite enough to not go down that route though and this was already getting more personal than you anticipated. “I think I know where I stand as well.”

“I’d like to hire you,” he said.

“Assuming our negotiations go well, I accept,” you said. He held out his hand over the table and you shook it.

“I did come up with what I thought was fair for salary and benefits. Let me go grab the paperwork and hopefully settle on something,” he said. He excused himself and you looked around the house, already trying to familiarize yourself with things. He was more relaxed when he returned with some papers and a notebook, handing you a few sheets. “If I’m missing anything let me know. I-”

“This is my weekly rate?” you asked when you saw the number at the top of the page.

“Oh no. That’s your daily,” he said as he took a seat. “So I think that’s-”

“Jensen,” you said, pushing the paper back. “I have to ask, things like insurance, are those coming out of your pocket or mine?”

“I’ll cover the expenses of your health, dental, all of that. You just choose and I’ll subsize it as part of your paycheck,” he said.

“This is for a live in position. Um...can you just...explain what makes up that daily rate number?” you asked.

“It’s simply your base pay. Obviously I pay for housing, utilities, gas obviously. I will get you a credit card to make purchases with for the kids and all of that so it’s simple to keep track of. You’re free to any of the food in the kitchen. I’m guessing the salary is the sticking point here.”

“Jensen,” you said as you scratched your head.

“I can go up fifty more dollars a day.”

“Jensen. This is way, way too much money. Way too much,” you said. “The average rate around here is about twenty five an hour or two hundred a day. Jensen this is double that. Are you factoring in like time and a half for additional nights and weekends?”

“No. That’d be on top of that. I thought that was a fair value based on the fact you are going to be taking care of the most valuable things in my life. It’s gonna get taxed too so it’s not like you see all of it.”

“You’re sweet, Jensen,” you said, writing down a number at the top of the page. “The average in Austin is twenty five an hour. I would be very happy with that.”

“You have to literally be the first person in existence to negotiate their salary down from the offer,” he said.

“Are you rejecting my offer?” you asked. He took the paper and crossed your number out, jotting down his own and spinning it back. “Jensen.”

“Y/N,” he said, crossing his arms. “I came down. Now it’s your turn. Do you accept?”

You knew thirty five was still way overpriced for the job, especially considering everything else he was paying for.

“I will accept on the condition that you get four hours of what we’d call evening or weekend at the normal rate ever week.”

“I can agree to that,” he said with a smile, writing that down. “So medical plan. Single, plus one, family?”

“Single for all that,” you said.

“I should mention that there is an in-law suite off to the other side of the garage where you’ll be staying. It’s just down the hall but it has its own small living area and kitchenette. There is a separate entrance to it. If you have guests over I just ask you keep them to your area of the house,” he said.

“Absolutely. I don’t tend to bring people over much anyways while I’m on the job,” you said. He let you read over the rest of the benefits, a good amount of sick and vacation time too. Technically you were free evenings and weekends but he could ask you to work longer if he needed you and you were available. Overall everything seemed in order. “Alright. Everything looks good to me.”

“Awesome. Are you available to start Monday?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. “It gives me plenty of time to move in things tomorrow so I can jump into the kids routine first thing Monday.”

“Perfect,” he said. “I’ll show you around. We can start with your side of the house.” You got up and followed him over to near the front door and down a long hallway, past a set of doors. There was a frosted glass one to your left just before he pushed open a wide white one.

Behind it was a living area and kitchen. Not huge, about the size of a small apartment. There was a TV and sectional, a table tucked against the wall and a kitchenette like he’d mentioned with full size appliances.

“Like I said, I know it’s small. Please like, seriously watch TV out in the family room at night if you want or hang out wherever or the yard or pool. This is just your own space when you want to be away from us.” You hummed and he showed you a closet and then a bedroom and bathroom. It was simple but decorated nicely and looked relaxing. “If there’s something obvious I’m missing please let me know. A cleaning service does come by every two weeks on Tuesdays at around ten in the morning. They’ll do in here too. Otherwise you can keep after yourself. Cleaning stuff is in the laundry room. Oh yeah. Um, this is probably the last time I’ll like, ever come in here unless you need help moving things in since this will be your space.”

“Thanks. I don’t have too much. I do have one request before we sign all the paperwork.”

“What’s that?”

“I’d like to meet the kids if that’s alright. There’s not much point in hiring me if they hate me.”

“Fair point. We’ll get ‘em over here and then get you all squared away.”

Monday Morning

“Good morning,” you said, a cup of coffee in your hand already as Jensen yawned.

“Morning,” he mumbled. His hair was a mess and he was in only a pair of boxer briefs before he paused and looked down. “I should probably put on some clothes.”

“This is your house. Wear whatever you normally would. Pretend I’m invisible,” you said as you poured a cup of coffee into a mug for him.

“Sounds like you worked for some real assholes,” he said, graciously taking the cup. “As long as it doesn’t bother you, me walking around in my undies.”

“No, not at all,” you said with a smile. “Would you like me to drop the kids off at school and daycare this morning?”

“Sure,” he said. “Car keys are on the table by the garage.”

“Okay great. I’m used to driving that kind of SUV,” you said. You snuck a look at your schedule you’d printed out again, knowing the twins would get need to get picked up around noon. You started to work on their lunches and snacks for the day while he took out the carton of eggs from the fridge. He cracked one into a pan and turned the heat on, yawning again as he got out some bread and threw it on a plate. “Would you like me to make lunch for you as well?”

“No thank you. I’m getting lunch with my manager today. You don’t have to make me coffee in the morning either, Y/N. Your job is to take care of the kids, not me,” he said.

“A cup of coffee is not difficult, Jensen. My job is to help you so if I can make dad’s life a smidge easier it’ll make theirs better too,” you said with a smile.

“You’re not like, a morning person are you,” he chuckled. “I don’t do peppy in the morning.”

“Oh no. I’m always a little nervous when I start a new job. I’ll get a rhythm down soon,” you said.

“So what do you normally do once the kids are dropped off?” he asked as he got out a spatula.

“On a weekday I’ll review their schedule, see if anything different is going on. An average day like today I will clean their rooms, their bathroom, do some laundry while they’re at school, maybe some shopping. I’ll pick up the twins, bring them home for lunch, a little playtime, a nap. We’ll have some quiet time and maybe a craft or coloring before we get JJ from school. Then I’ll give them all a snack, we can get outside and play to get some energy out. I’ll help JJ with any schoolwork she has while the twins play and then I will start on dinner about the time you’ll be getting home. Since you have no plans currently tonight I’ll leave you guys be at that point until tomorrow unless you ask me for help.”

“So when do you take a break?” he asked.

“Naptime. I’ll have lunch with the twins. Don’t worry about me Jensen. That’s my normal plan but if you would like me to run some errands in the morning I can,” you said.

“No, no. Just…” he trailed off. “I still want to make them breakfast and dinner and play with them too is all.”

“We’ll figure out the right mix of things,” you said. “You just gotta tell me is all, okay? It can vary day to day too,”

“Yeah,” he said, taking his fried egg out of the pan and placing it on one piece of bread. He made a sandwich and took a big bite, looking out the back window. “I never asked. How was your birthday?”

“Hm?” you hummed, dropping some carrots into a reusable bag.

“On Saturday you said it was your 30th. You do anything fun that night?” he asked with a soft smile.

“I got a new job. That was the highlight of my day,” you said, Jensen cocking his head. “I ordered pizza, binged netflix. My normal Saturday routine.”

“I know everybody jokes about 30 but it’s really just jokes. Wait until you’re 42,” he chuckled. “Then you really feel old.”

“Most 42 year olds would kill to look like you,” you said. You shut your eyes and shook your head. “I’m so sorry. That was so inappropriate.”

“It’s alright. I took it as a compliment,” he said, smiling again. “So you did nothing for your birthday, huh?”

“Uh, no,” you said, mixing in some grapes into each of the snack bags.

“I’m gonna get you a birthday cake,” he said.

“Mr. Ackles-”

“I thought I said it’s Jensen. I’m the boss so what I say goes. We’re gonna have a birthday cake for you tonight. So. What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Whatever you want is perfectly fine.”

“Y/N.”

“...I like red velvet,” you said. He smiled and chuckled.

“That was my wife’s favorite,” he said. “Haven’t had that since her birthday. She would have liked you.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You’re quite kind to me. She was always protective of me, even if she was the scaredy cat most of the time.”

“Can I ask how…” you said as he took another bite.

“Accident. Tractor trailer versus her car. He tried to miss her but it was too late. I wanted to hate the guy too but it was an accident and I couldn’t blame him for that.”

“My father died in a car crash when I was six. It does get better with time,” you said.

“That’s why you didn’t know if he had a picture of you in his wallet or not,” he said as you nodded. “You’re too young to have that much tragedy in life.”

“So are you.”

“I’m not young anymore.”

“You’re young and overly generous,” you said with a smile.

“Misery loves company,” he said as you both heard a few feet above you running around. “Munchkins are up.”

“You want to make breakfast or should I?” you asked.

“Give me five minutes to get them in some clean clothes. Then I can show you how they like their eggs.”

“Sounds like a plan, Jensen.”

Later That Evening

“Y/N?” said Jensen, knocking on the door to your room. You got up from the couch and answered it, Jensen standing there with a smile. “The kids and I were wondering if you’d like your birthday cake for dessert.”

“You actually got me a cake?”

“I did indeed,” he said. You followed him down the hall and back into the living space, Arrow running up to you.

“Y/N! Are you sleeping over?” she asked as she gave you a hug.

“I live just down the hall now, cutie,” you said.

“Daddy, can we have ice cream too?” asked Zeppelin as he climbed up into his chair at the table.

“Sure thing bud. Girls, would you like some too?” he asked. Both the little ones said yes as he looked back at you.

“I really shouldn’t,” you said.

“We eat ice cream in this house,” he said.

“You don’t have to twist my arm over it,” you said. He got out the container and set it down on the table by the cake, lighting the match on the candle on top. “Oh please don’t-”

He started to sing though and the kids joined in, Jensen having a really good voice actually. You blew out the candle when they were through and he dished up some dessert for everyone.

“Y/N, can you read me a bedtime story later?” asked Zeppelin and you glanced at his father, Jensen making a face.

“Well Y/N’s not at work right now so she doesn’t have to unless she wants to,” said Jensen. “We’re already cutting into her-”

“I would love to, Zepp,” you said, his little face lighting up. “Maybe you guys want to join us?”

“JJ’s a little big to get read to at night I’ve been told,” said Jensen.

“Am not,” she said. “I can get a story too, right?”

“Of course,” you said. You took a bite of the cake and hummed. “This is really good.”

“I bought it myself,” said Jensen.

“Well you have good taste,” you said. “In fact, I’m gonna have another slice.”

“Good,” he said as Zeppelin grabbed the ice cream container. “Alright, alright. You can have a bit more, bud.”

“Night, JJ,” you said, getting a hug from her as you put her back to bed an hour later. JJ smiled from her bed and you flicked off the light, pulling the door shut after you turned on her night light.

“Thanks for giving up your night with them. I didn’t mean to have that happen,” said Jensen as you headed downstairs with him.

“It’s no problem. It’s good bonding for us,” you said. You helped him pick up the plates at the table and wash them off, Jensen grabbing a bottle of whiskey from a tall cabinet as you covered up what was left of the cake.

“Drink?” he asked.

“A small one,” you said. He poured a single into a whiskey glass and slid it over to you, smirking when you took a sip. “Oh that’s smooth.”

“Very,” he said, drinking from his own glass. “Thank you for tonight. JJ’s been…”

“She’s the oldest. She’s gonna have a harder time with it.”

“You were about her age when your dad died you said?”

“She’ll be okay. She’ll miss her but it won’t be a deep pain. She’ll have nice memories of her mom. She’s doing pretty good, trust me.”

“Can I ask another personal question?”

“I’m off the clock. Shoot,” you said.

“Your mom ever...try again with someone else?”

“Yes. Years later she found a good guy. He actually is who I stayed with after she passed. He’s married now, has some kids of his own but I know if I call him up he’d drop everything for me.”

“Good. I was getting afraid you were a complete Shakespeare tragedy,” he chuckled.

“Nah. I’m not at that level of crazy in my life,” you said. “As long as we’re off the clock, can I ask if you’re asking because you’re thinking of getting back out there?”

“I am. My wife kind of insisted on it. When we first got serious we had this deal that we’d go try again if something happened. I mean, I don’t cry everytime I think about her now. I can smile and be happy and that ache doesn’t try to swallow me up everyday anymore. I think it’s time I could get back out there.”

“I’d say it is. The kids are ready. They’ll understand.”

“You think your mom loved the second guy as much as your dad?”

“For sure. She was a bit of a free spirit but she didn’t think you had to have just one soulmate. She told me that after she’d met Ray. She said she got two so maybe I had two out there. I haven’t found either one of them yet so I’ll take increasing my odds as best I can.”

“Well you’re not gonna meet your soulmate sitting at home on Saturday nights, Y/N.”

“Just a lot of douchey guys,” you said.

“Ah. You need to meet a better kind of guy is all,” he said.

“Yeah see I’m thirty. All the good guys are married by now.”

“Oh all of them are taken. I didn’t realize that,” he said with a chuckle. “What am I then? Another douchebag?”

“You don’t count. You’re…”

“Too old for you?” he chuckled.

“My boss. Plus you’re like famous. You can go get like a victoria secret model or something.”

“Looks ain’t everything.”

“Maybe I ought to try older guys now that you say that,” you said.

“Y/N, you gotta be careful with that. I don’t want to see you get taken advantage of.”

“And this is why I watch netflix on Saturday nights,” you said.

“You serious about the older guy crack?” he asked.

“I do find them more...attractive sometimes. I guess it depends on how old. Why?”

“I got a friend my age, might be interested?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you said. “No offense to your friend but...I mean if he’s 42...I want kids and stuff you know? Although a dude it doesn’t really matter how old...I don’t know.”

“It was just a thought,” he said with a smile.

“I’ll think about it,” you said. “He’s not a weirdo, right.”

“No. He’s an actor. Something to think about,” he said.

“I will,” you said. “Thank you for the birthday cake, Jensen. You’re a good person.”

“I bought a cake.”

“Yeah but I haven’t really had one of those in years. You’re a good person.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said as you slid off your seat. “You’re free to hang out if you like.”

“I’m kinda tired. I won’t be getting up that early from now on I don’t think.”

“I completely understand,” he said. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Jensen.”

________

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#tell me a story bingo #SPN #supernatural #jensen x reader #jensen acklees #jensen ackles au #rpf #jensen series #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #jensen fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfic

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volturiwolf · 3 years

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Heavy Cart - Jared Cameron x GN!Reader Imagine

A/N: Hopefully, this is my first imagine of the many with Jared Cameron, 'cause I feel bad that he's so underrated because he's so cute and hot at the same time

A/N 2: This is also my first gender-neutral reader imagine - I hope I write more of them, because, as I identify as a female, I have trouble getting into a man's shoes and how they perceive the world, so I hope I managed to make it an easy read for any male reader

A/N 3: I was inspired to write the story when I went to the supermarket with my mother and I also suffered from moving the cart around

A/N 4: The story takes places in Spring 2021

No. of Words: 2700+

Mentions of: C*vid-19-related issues, Death/loss of a parent, Blood, Mental health issues

(Y/N)’s POV

“(Y/N), please move faster! We won’t have enough time to buy everything!” My mom was edging me once again. She wasn’t usually like this, but today she got her second dose of the Covid-19 vaccine, so she was a little agitated as she was experiencing sharp pain in her arm. I told her it was the fault of the person who injected her; it wasn’t supposed to bleed - they must not have injected her correctly, and the needle pierced her vein badly.

Nevertheless, she was mostly worried she wouldn’t have enough time to shop for everything she wanted. I tried to reassure her that we had enough time to buy everything since the supermarket would close in 4 hours, which I had to remind her was more than enough time. I drove us to the supermarket, as I was the one who was able to drive - my mother had only driven for about a year after she got her driver’s license 15 years ago, and then just gave up.

So, the moment I got my driver’s license, I became my mom’s designated driver, driving her everywhere. Whenever I wasn’t able to drive her somewhere - either because I had school or an extracurricular activity, she would ask one of our neighbors who had cars and would drive to the city anyway. This was our life - it was just my mom and me, ever since my dad passed away, when I was 5 or 6 years old, I don’t really remember; I always tried to forget.

We used to live close to the Reservation, but ever since I left for college, my mom rented a house within walking distance from Forks’ town center, so she could do everything on her own, without getting others into trouble for her. When I graduated last year, we moved back to our old house, which we were renting until then, so my mom could have a steady income, apart from the little money she made working at a local restaurant.

Apart from the scholarship I had received in college, I was also working part-time at a cafe near my college to make extra money. Coming back from college, I thought I would not be able to get a job due to the pandemic, but thankfully a local accounting office was looking for employees, so I sent my resume and after a few interviews, I was hired for the job. I was lucky enough to have amazing employers who were truly understandable and let me work from home 3 times a week. It was a really good job; it paid well, and I was gaining a lot of experience and expertise. It also allowed me to stay close to my mom, and be able to take care of her.

Being just the two of us, we didn’t need too many things, so we would only drive to the supermarket every 3 or 4 weeks. Today was one of those times when we barely had any food at home, so we needed to go and buy groceries. Besides going to work, I was trying to postpone leaving the house as much as I could, so I dreaded every single time we had to go to the supermarket. Wearing masks was annoying, but necessary, and to be honest, I would wear one even if it wasn’t required. I knew that didn’t sit well with my skin, which started flaring up with zits here and there, but I was always a germaphobe anyway, so the pandemic was just what I needed for my mental health to flip out the window.

We arrived rather quickly at the supermarket; thankfully, the parking lot was not as packed as it usually was, though my mom and I still expected it to be filled within the next one or two hours. Surprisingly, the supermarket was quite big for La Push standards, and it was easily comparable with Forks’ supermarkets. The Quileute tribe put a lot of effort, time, and money to create a functional community, and that also included the supermarket. Usually, people from Forks would look down on people from the Rez, but the supermarket was just one of the factors that showed that La Push was just as good as Forks - apart from the fact that we literally were so close to nature and the beach, which people from Forks would often visit.

We put our masks on and took our reusable bags before exiting the car, and locking it behind us. The air around us was chilly, and there were signs of either rain or a storm coming. We quickly entered the supermarket, and I went to grab a shopping cart. There was an unprecedented silence around the store, which was unlike its usual commotion, and I was just thankful for the lack of people around. Usually, by that time, there were so many people around, barely keeping a distance between them, and my anxiety and nerves would reach the roof due to their ignorance for safety.

Moving around, my mom first led me through the kitchenware aisles. She was looking around the glasses aisle, murmuring that she needed to buy new glasses, but the kitchen was too small to fit more glasses, and she didn’t have enough money yet to renovate the kitchen. She had been talking about renovating the kitchen ever since my dad passed away, but she never did - at this point, I didn’t know if it was a money issue, or if the old kitchen reminded her of my dad, and she didn’t want to lose these memories of him. After all, he was the one who built the whole kitchen; who put together all the cabinets and counters; who spent the most time in the kitchen, cooking all the time because he loved cooking for his small family.

Moving around the aisles, we reached the linen, and my mom stopped. She asked me to help her around, because she needed to buy new linen, as most of the ones she currently had were starting to have holes from the extended use. I helped her by grabbing a few different bed sheets from the shelves for her to compare different patterns and qualities. She was quite indecisive between choosing plain sheets or the ones with the flower patterns. I told her I preferred the flower patterns - they looked more beautiful. She silently agreed with me and told me to put one pink flower-patterned set for a king-sized bed in the cart. She went to grab another set of the same pattern for my single bed, but I stopped her, telling her it would be easier to tell them apart in the drawers if they were of different colors. She looked at me like she was lost until she finally understood what I meant, and went on to grab a blue flower-patterned set with her good hand. We then bought similar sets for the pillow covers, before leaving the linen aisle.

We walked around, grabbing whatever my mom told me to get. I raised one eyebrow at her; she usually had a shopping list with her, which I always forced her to write in advance, because, most of the time, we ended up buying things we didn’t need, and filling up the shopping cart way too much. I asked her if she had an actual shopping list with her, and she showed me the paper she took out of her pocket, proud that she had made a shopping list on her own, as I forgot to remind her that day. I laughed at her childlike reaction; it was times like these that reminded me of how happy my mom used to be. I believed that she, indeed, needed all these things that she told me to put in the cart - shampoos, shower gels, styling foam for her hair, rice crisps, sodas, and so many other things that, unfortunately for me, made the cart heavier and harder to move around. The fact that many of the items were on sale did not help my case, as I could barely move the cart around, though my mom was moving around easily, as if she didn’t really feel a pain in her arm, ordering me to keep putting stuff in the cart.

Yet, I continued moving the cart around, dangerously close to colliding with other people and carts, as I was practically chasing my mom around the store, before losing her completely. I was still walking around, pushing the cart, trying to look for her. I had given her my phone before we left the car, as the pants I was wearing today did not have pockets, and I had nowhere to put it; I then thought we would stick together, but I did actually expect her to get lost somewhere inside the store, and leave me wandering around.

Not even five minutes into looking around for my mom, I took a turn on the snacks aisle where I thought I could find her, pushing the cart to follow my orders. Instead, in an effort of pushing it harsher, its weight acted as an accelerating force, spinning around, pulling me with it. And suddenly, the cart stopped with a loud crash, and a young man yelping in pain from the unexpectedly harsh collision. Said man was laying on the floor, sitting on his butt, rubbing his side, eyes closed, and shouting profanities. I was shocked and so embarrassed that I hit someone with my cart. My cheeks were burning, my eyes widened. I quickly ran by his side.

“Oh my God! I’m so, so sorry! I lost control of the cart! I'm so sorry!” As the man did nothing to reply back to me but kept murmuring to himself, I started losing my calm. “I’m so sorry! Can I help you in any way? Make it up to you?”

The man turned to look away from me, clearly angry under his black mask. “Can you stop? I’m clearly in pain, and I cannot listen to you right now!” He sounded upset and angry, and I gulped in fear.

Another man, who looked similar to the man I had hit but was more muscular, came by us, seeing everything that happened. “Come on, Jared. It was clearly an accident. Besides, you didn’t even get a scratch. Stop exasperating!” He then turned to look back at me, his eyes smiling, and waved at me. “Hi, I’m Paul. I’m sorry for my friend’s reaction.”

The man I had hit, Jared, turned his head up to look at his friend. “Are you serious, Paul? They couldn’t even look around…” He suddenly stopped yelling when he turned around to meet my gaze with his one. His eyes widened, and he kept staring at me for a few seconds, not saying a thing.

I thought there was something seriously wrong with him. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Have I hurt you in any way? I’m really sorry!” I started panicking, trying to figure out if he was okay, or he had a concussion or something because he still hadn’t spoken a word to me or his friend; he just stared at me, lost in thought.

His friend started laughing for reasons I couldn’t understand. “Oh, man! Oh, man! You got it bad! Welcome to the club! Finally!” He was laughing and clapping his hands at the sight of his speechless friend. I still had no idea what was going on.

“Listen, my mom will probably start looking for me soon. Let me give you my number, just in case anything happens, if you feel dizzy or sick, or if you got a concussion or something. I promise I’ll take care of the medical expenses, should you need anything, okay?” I could probably not afford his medical expenses, but his lost gaze made me feel terribly guilty about what I may have caused to the young man.

“No, no. It’s okay. I’m okay. Don’t worry about it.” He quickly stood up, his eyes smiling, handing me his phone. “But, you can give me your number. You know, just in case I may need anything.”

I smiled under the mask and wrote my number down on his phone. “(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Come on, we’re gonna get late!” My mom’s voice interrupted us, and I turned around to look at my impatient mom raising her eyebrow, looking at my interaction with Jared.

I sighed. “Coming, mom..” I turned back to Jared, trying to look as apologetic as I could under the mask. “I’m sorry. Got to go now. Goodbye, Jared. Goodbye, Paul.” I said my goodbyes to the two guys before I attempted to turn the incredibly heavy cart around.

“Hey, wait!” Jared stopped me, running towards me. “Let me help you. You know, so you don’t collide with anyone else, and have to give them your number, too.” His eyes were kind and somehow started sparkling when I accepted his help.

I didn’t know how he seemed to easily move the cart around, not struggling for a second. Okay, it wasn’t that I was weak; I was pretty strong for someone who was never into exercising, weightlifting, and such. But Jared seemed extremely strong, and his muscles flexed slightly under his long-sleeved tight shirt when he was pushing my cart around. He caught me staring at him, but didn’t say anything; he was just smiling and laughing quietly. I don’t know why my heart was beating so fast upon hearing his laughter, but his laughter sounded like music to my ears.

My mom seemed to question the two of us under her mask but didn’t say anything else, when I simply told her that I hit Jared with the cart she forced me to fill up with seemingly unnecessary stuff, and now he was offering to help me to save everyone else from any possible collisions. Thankfully, there weren’t many more things my mom needed, so we were done within the next ten minutes.

We went through the cash register fairly quickly, and for, probably, the first time since the pandemic started, we didn’t spend as much money as we did the previous times. Though the cart was extremely heavy, what we bought wasn’t nearly as expensive as the other times, probably because we didn’t buy as many fruits and vegetables, or as much meat as we used to. My mom had recently started growing her own vegetables in our own garden with extreme success, so we only bought what we couldn’t grow.

I expected Jared to get back to Paul after we exited the supermarket, but he followed us, helping me load the bags in the trunk, as my mom could only stand and stare. I just told her to get in the car and make herself comfortable, as Jared was helping me lift the bags off the cart and onto the trunk. He barely let me take a single bag, as he took everything out of the cart, only asking me where I wanted to put the bags. Holy hell, that was so attractive for a man to do, especially for a man like Jared.

After we loaded everything into the car, I closed the trunk, thanking Jared, and went on to get to the driver’s seat and leave. However, Jared stopped me, placing his hand on my arm, not putting any pressure on it; he just touched me enough to get my attention.

“Hey, I was wondering..if you wanted to go out sometime. For a coffee, or lunch, or a movie, whatever you want, really.” He sounded nervous. Was he asking me on a date?

“Sure. I’m free on the weekend when I don’t work. So, just text or call me, and we can go wherever you like.” I smiled at him, hoping he understood the reaction under my mask.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. Thank you.” On the spur of the moment, he leaned forwards, hugging me tightly, before stepping away. “Bye, (Y/N). See you!” He ran away, going back to the supermarket, probably to meet up with Paul.

I was stunned as to what happened right now. My heart was pounding, I was slightly shivering, and I was pretty sure I had the stupidest-looking grin under my mask. I didn’t even register what happened today, but whatever it was, I was too excited; too willing to meet up with Jared once again.

#jared cameron #jared cameron imagine #jared cameron x reader #jared cameron x gn!reader #gender neutral imagine #gender neutral reader #the wolfpack #sam uley #paul lahote #embry call #jacob black #quil ateara v #quil ateara #leah clearwater #seth clearwater #shapeshifter

136 notes · View notes

shorkbrian · 4 years

Note

I’ve noticed a shortage of yan! Shoto :0 Whilst Kiri is my absolute fave, Todoroki needs some love too! Could I request some Yan! Shoto being absolutely touch starved and obsessed with a sweet, loving, motherly and smol reader? (it can be nsfw if you so wish!) Thank you!! (Btw, I love reading your stories, it’s a blessing in my day, even just looking at your shitposts/memes. And if you ever want to talk, jus say so. I hope you have a good day!! 🥺💞) - Sugar Anon 🧚‍♀️

Sugar anon! That is such a cute identifier and I hope to see you in my asks again!! Hopefully this is along the lines of what you were thinking!!!

It’s a very good concept btw cause like mhm him getting completely overwhelmed and overstimulated during diddly times cause he’s never had anyone be intimate with him.

Like moaning and his cheeks are flushed and oh

(Y/N) is a new doctor at Shouto’s agency in charge of patching him up between missions and basically being his doctor. Shouto likes her gentle hands and soft touches, lets himself get a bit more scraped up then he would normally. He’s just so touch starved and she’s so motherly and its such an intimate setting and he’s never had feelings like this before and he doesn’t know what to do.

Has yandere tendencies but tries to squash them down or hide them, tries to be normal.

One day gets hit with an aphrodisiac quirk, stumbles into her office and she’s immediately worried, once she figures out what’s up she tries to get out, lock him in there until someone stronger than he can come escort him home but he grabs her before she can get to the door.

He’s crying cause he’s so horny it hurts (he’s never been this aroused in his LIFE) and he wanted everything to be perfect and he wanted to woo her but now he’s forcing himself on her and he can’t stop his hips from moving and he’s confessing all the bad things he’s done while he’s known her and she’s absolutely horrified, traumatized.

Warnings - NSFW, noncon, very hard noncon. Aphrodisiacs (spelling?) and a low-key weird comment about Shouto’s mommy-issues at the end. Dude is so twisted and sad and touch starved.

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“Todoroki-san, I have had to patch you up six different times in two days.”

Shouto cocked his head, staring at you with his bi-colored eyes, studying your face as you tended to the wound on his shoulder. The lilt to your voice suggested you were teasing, making small talk to distract the man as you swiped a disinfectant pad over the cut. You knew what you would be expected to do when you applied for this job, knew that heros were often injured.

He had overseen the hiring process himself, his last doctor had left the agency for a job in a different country. Shouto held no hard feelings for the doctor, knew that as a hero he often got himself into trouble, needed a lot of attention and care. Not everyone could be expected to spend so much time with him, attending to his health - even if he was paying them a more-than adequate salary.

Most of the candidates had bored him when they came in for their scheduled interviews. Too many of them were looking at this position as a way to launch them into a nice comfortable position in a prestigious hospital. They seemed… uninterested, or too interested, some of the candidates invading his space when they came for a handshake, babbling about how much of a fan they were.

You weren’t like that. There was a professional distance when you shook his hand, smiling at him pleasantly as you introduced himself. Then you sat down, waited for him and his team to begin asking you questions. Shouto couldn’t keep his eyes from straying to your hands, letting himself wonder whether those hands would be the right ones for the job. You looked so delicate, at least to him, a pro-hero.

But he already liked you better than any of the other candidates.

So you were hired, on the condition that you would be on a trial period for the first two months, with halved pay. It was still far above minimum wage, but Shouto was weary of hiring seemingly-normal employees only for them to turn out to just be trying to get to know him, whatever their reasons. The trial period was for his own sanity.

Currently he was sitting in your office, perched on the edge of the exam table tucked into the corner. Today he had managed to escape his most recent fight with only a few mild scrapes and bruises, but as his doctor, you needed to make sure he was okay, clean his wounds and patch him up before letting him go home for the day. It wouldn’t do anybody any good if one of the top pro heros collapsed on the job because of a lack of medical care.

Your office was stocked with everything a doctor of your caliber could possibly need. Your “office” was really a mock hospital room, in a medium sized room located at the back of the agency. Having you on site meant that Shouto never had to bother with trips to the hospital, being swarmed by fans when he wasn’t feeling good or having someone who didn’t understand the capabilities of his quirk try to treat him.

It also meant he could relax, know that he was being taken care of. With you being so new, Shouto still had his guard up, ready for any-and-everything. So far you had been nothing but gentle.

You had hardly talked to him, other than the expected “This might sting” or “Deep breath in”. You warned him before you touched him, but otherwise were very quiet, working diligently and professionally. Shouto enjoyed it honestly, being able to step away from the buzz and hubbub of his agency and into his doctor’s office, where it was quiet and calm and peaceful.

Being with his mother had felt like this. Felt safe and refreshing and like a secret haven tucked away from the rest of the world.

Clicking you tongue, you gave the pro hero a thumbs up as you stepped back. “Alright, you’re good to go! Please be safe on your way home Todoroki-san.” Shouto nodded, a stiff smile passing his lips as he rose to his feet. You were a good doctor, always took the best care of him.

“You as well Y/N.”

——

The next visit to your office revealed that you had added a few personal touches.

A cheesy poster on the wall, directly across from the exam table, a single plant on your desk, A bowl of mini lollipops on the shelf by the door.

Cute.

Today was a short visit, just a quick once-over to make sure there weren’t any cuts or wounds that he hadn’t felt, the normal questions any quirks used against him during the day. Shouto found himself wishing the visit had been longer as you gave him the all-clear, moving away from the exam table so he could stand up. Before he walked out the door, you stopped him, silently handed him a lollipop. He took it, noticing how soft your hand felt against his as he withdrew.

Shouto didn’t like sweets, but he didn’t mind accepting a lollipop from you. He could just offer it to his secretary when he passed her desk, no biggie. It was easier to do that than hurt your feelings by refusing.

Well, he knew it probably wouldn’t hurt your feelings. He just liked seeing the little twinkle in your eye when he accepted it. He assumed the lollipops were a gag, something usually given to small children for being brave at their checkups.

He wasn’t your only patient, much as he would’ve liked. His agency had several other up-and-coming heroes, and several sidekicks, and you tended to all of them. Shouto liked to think that you saved the majority of your tenderness for him.

One time he had come in while you were setting one of the sidekick’s shoulders. You had asked him to sit down in your office chair, to give you a minute so you could finish up with his coworker. Shouto had done exactly that, watching as your soft hands gripped the sidekick hard, fingers digging in.

“One, two, three.” You gave a countdown, forcefully jerking the shoulder back in place on “three”. The sidekick groaned at the pain, head shaking as if to clear his head from the intense sensation. You went over to your lollipop bowl, ignoring Shouto as he sat in your chair, returning to the sidekick to give him the sugary treat.

The sidekick sucked on the lollipop while you bandaged his arm into a sling, immobilizing it so it could heal. When you were done, you sent him on his way with a soft smile, before turning to Shouto.

“Todoroki-san, thank you for waiting. How are you feeling today?”

Todoroki moved to the exam table when you motioned for him, immediately stripping off one of the boots of his hero costume.

“Hello (Y/N), it’s good to see you. I’m feeling good, got nicked by a spike during a fight today. Luckily it hit my ankle, and it’s not very painful.”

“Mm, let’s have a look.”

You kneeled down, giving him a small warning before pulling his foot towards you, examining the tiny cut gracing his ankle. Shouto paused, closing his eyes as he relaxed at your touch. He didn’t remember the last time he felt this at-ease with another human. He didn’t know what it was about you; maybe your gentle, soft demeanor? Perhaps it was your kind touch, how you never pressed too hard and always respecting his personal space.

Even as your fingers prodded at the cut, feeling the bone underneath, Shouto felt relaxed, content. He liked being around you, being with you. Even if the two of you hardly conversed. Maybe he could change that?

“(Y/N), how have you been finding working here?”

You looked up at him, bright eyes warm and kind. Shouto felt his chest tighten. “Oh, it’s very nice Todoroki-san! I hope I’m doing a good job attending to everyone.” With a smile, you returned to his ankle, producing an alcohol wipe from seemingly nowhere.

Shouto nodded, hands gripping the edge of the exam table. “I certainly appreciate your service. You have very tender hands.” Just like his mom. When he was younger, before his scare… Shouto remembered the care his mother would give to a scraped knee or a bump on his head. The soft touch, the kindness, the gentle hands - Shouto didn’t want to insult you by comparing you to his mother, so he stayed silent.

With a start, the man realized you were beaming up at him, wrapping a bandage around his ankle. He smiled back, felt his cheeks flush a little. What was this?

“Thank you! I know how important my patient is to the world.”

Ah, yes, his job.

His job that he should probably getting back to.

Reluctantly, Shouto accepted the usual lollipop from your hands, wishing you would linger so he could feel the brush of your skin against his own.

Was he developing feelings for you?

——

It was a startling idea. Shouto never thought himself the type to have /feelings/ for someone else. When he thought of his future, it never involved another person. He didn’t want a family, didn’t want the opportunity to make the same mistakes as his father.

But as he gave the idea more thought, Shouto realized that he was feeling… something towards you. It was different to what he felt for Izuku, for Bakugou and Kirishima. He didn’t crave their touch like he did yours. Had physical contact always had such an appeal?

His last doctor had touched him, it was necessary of course to patch up his various wounds from fights. But somehow it wasn’t the same as when you touched him.

Shouto spent each exam studying you, your features, the way you moved, how you almost skipped over to the lollipop bowl to retrieve him one at the end of the exam. He felt drawn to you, wanted to touch your hair, hold onto your hand when you handed him the lollipop. Would you touch him if he asked? A hug maybe?

In his penthouse, Shouto mulled over his feelings, his wants and needs and how you fit in. Would it be prudent for him to start a relationship at this point in his life? Would you even consider him as a partner? No, probably not. You were much too professional, wouldn’t even think of starting a relationship with your boss.

Maybe he could fire you.

No, no, Shouto couldn’t do that, it would make you hate him. Plus, he wouldn’t be able to see you as often. And Shouto was quickly becoming of the opinion that he wouldn’t mind seeing you more often than he did now.

He wanted more from you. He didn’t know what he wanted, but… maybe he could learn.

——

If you noticed how frequently Shouto seemed to be visiting you, compared to his usual once-daily check up, you didn’t say anything.

Tabloids were beginning to comment on how eager the pro hero seemed to engage in hand-to-hand with villains. His usual strategy involved using his quirk, only getting his hands dirty if absolutely necessary. But now? He was constantly looking to get hit, kicked, clawed, wounded.

He had to come see you after every over-dramatic scrap with a villain. You didn’t seem to notice, nor mind seeing his face pop around the door 3-4 times a day, sheepishly asking if you could patch up a new cut, check out a new bruise, make sure his nose wasn’t broken.

Shouto could feel himself falling, further and further into the rigid embrace of love, or at least, his version of it. Did other people experience attraction this vividly?

He had come to terms with the fact that he was attracted to you, not just your body but your mind, your personality, your very existence. He wanted to stay in your office, lingering after every visit and awkwardly attempting small talk just so you would interact with him, just so he could be with you a little longer.

In the privacy of his own apartment, Shouto found himself researching on his laptop. “How to get the girl” “Ways to let her know you like her” “What does love feel like”. He felt so juvenile, but the man was genuinely at a loss for how to deal with his feelings for you. Telling you outright wouldn’t be appropriate. You would never enter a relationship with your boss, Shouto knew this, you were too good of an employee. Flirting was not his forte, and was completely out of the question.

So he stuck to what he knew how to do - keep his mouth shut and watch. You never turned him away from your office, never showed irritation when he showed up, never gave any sign that you were becoming tired of his presence. Shouto took this as an invitation, a sign that maybe, just maybe, you had feelings for him too. He found himself bringing his lunch down to your office, asking if he could eat there, just to get away from everyone for a little bit. You always let him, nonchalantly scrolling through your phone as you ate during your lunch break.

Shouto was a bit embarrassed of himself when he pulled your file from the employee records. If anyone asked why, he would just tell them that he was considering giving you a raise, but wasn’t sure. That’s a valid reason to bring out an employee’s file, right? He just wanted to know where you live, if it was far from the agency. The man couldn’t stomach the thought of you, gentle, little (Y/N) having to walk home alone at night, or take the train with all the creeps that could be there.

When he came upon your address, Shouto made a note to ask if you’d like him to drive you home. It was at least a thirty minute drive, he didn’t want to think about how you usually got home. What if something happened to his doctor? When he broached the subject, Shouto thought he did pretty well at acting nonchalant.

“The weather’s getting colder, isn’t it?”

You nodded, wrapping gauze around a nasty gash on his calf.

“I feel bad for anyone who has to walk during the evenings.” He stated.

“Aw, it’s not that bad in my opinion.” You took the bait “I walk home from the train station every night and the weather isn’t awful. It’ll probably get nasty as winter comes though.”

“You have to take the metro to get home? Where do you live.” As if he didn’t know. But you’d recoil if he offered just yet, probably be weirded out that he knew your address.

“Yeah, I live over in the Shikuyu district. It’s a really pretty walk in the fall though, all those trees turning different colors.”

Shouto wrung his hands, taking a deep breath. “Let me drive you home tonight, there’s been some criminal activity going down over there and it’s not one of my sectors. I need my doctor safe.”

You tried to protest, and Shouto let you, but ultimately pulled the boss card, insisting that he needed to take care of his employees, especially one that he bothered so much.

“You never bother me Todoroki-san.” You laughed, dropping a lollipop into Shouto’s lap.

Shouto kept his face from souring, missing the usual contact of your gentle, silky-soft hands as you handed the treat to him. But it was fine, he would get more time with you. In his car, just the two of you, outside of work.

Then he registered what you said, and his head snapped up, eyes wide and roving over you as you turned away, cleaning up the exam table and messy supplies.

It was all the confirmation he needed.

——

After the first time Shouto drove you home, you refused to let him go out of his way to help you out. Still, he was your boss and he could insist that you at least call an uber, or a cab. He didn’t feel comfortable sending his little doctor off onto the train every night after work. Shouto even upped your pay so you could afford it easier, saying there was no reason to be unsafe.

It was hard for him to know if he was being too suffocating. He didn’t want for you to regret your statement about him never bothering you.

So he had his agency install new security cameras.

One was placed in your office, where there hadn’t been one before. You weren’t too pressed when Shouto asked you what you thought of the upgrades, said you could see the sense in making sure the building was safe, especially the doctor’s office, where the heroes would be at their most vulnerable.

Shouto agreed - he was always at his most vulnerable when he was around you.

But now he could stop letting his body take a beating in order to see you. He could sit in his office, busy himself with paperwork and have the security feed from your office pulled up on his laptop. Half the time Shouto got distracted, abandoning the paperwork in order to watch you work, treating sidekicks and heroes-in-training and anyone else the agency had hired.

He tried to ignore the bitter pang of jealousy that reared it’s head.

Shouto knew jealousy, knew anger and negative emotions very well. His childhood had been littered with nothing but bad memories and negative moments. The only time he felt at peace was when he was curled in his mom’s lap, the woman running slender fingers through his bi-colored hair. Sometimes, when he was still very small, she would have the time to read him a story before bedtime.

She was such an amazing woman.

Shouto saw her in you.

The way you tended to him so gently, delicately treating his wounds. How you carded through his hair, just like his mom used to, when you were checking for head wounds. The way your lovely hands pressed against his back when you felt to see if a rib was cracked, rubbing each rib slow and soft, pressing. It was just like how his mom would rub his back.

The man swore your touch was addictive. He wanted more and more and more and he didn’t have a clue as how to get it. Shouto had to be satisfied with fleeting brushes when he moved before you were ready, accidentally jostling you against his body. Or telling you (lying) that his body was hurting, sore, it didn’t quite feel right. You would do your best to check for any injuries, asking where it hurt (usually his torso “hurt”) and then skimming your hands very carefully over the skin there.

Shouto imagined how nice it would be to fall asleep with your hands on him. He wasn’t stupid. He was getting too attached, too invested, was practically stalking your at this point. He shouldn’t be doing this, lying to you, watching you. But he didn’t know what else to do.

Guilt was beginning to take root in his mind.

One day he knew he would have to tell you, confess his feelings and deal with the outcome. You would accept him, hopefully. Shouto felt afraid for what he would do if you didn’t.

——

Shouto felt hot, disoriented, thirsty. He was pretty sure he was in your office, had gotten hit with a villains quirk during a fight. Apparently it had knocked him out, as he didn’t remember even coming into the agency.

Muffled voices could be heard past the closed door, and Shouto winced at the noise, at the light, at the feelings of his clothes against his skin. Everything felt too much. He stumbled off the exam table, yup, your office, and moved towards the light switch, stripping off his shirt as he did so.

The voices outside were still making noise, but with the light off Shouto felt a little better. His remaining clothes were still bothering him. His head felt fuzzy. His boots came off, followed by his pants. He wanted to take off his boxers, but his rational mind supplied how bad of an idea that would be. What if you came in?

At the thought of his little doctor, Shouto’s stomach jolted in arousal. Confused, the man peered down, surprised to find himself completely hard in his boxer briefs. He knew he considered you very attractive, but it usually took a fair bit of stimulus before he found himself aroused.

Shouto gulped as he climbed back onto the exam table, immediately curling onto his side towards the wall. He was practically panting with the heat of the room, sweating and drooling. Wait, drooling?

The door opened.

“Todoroki-san, I have bad news.”

Your voice was so sweet, like warm honey. Shouto shivered when he heard it, his cock twitching between his legs. He wanted to turn to you, stand up, pull you close. But he… he shouldn’t.

“You got hit by an aphrodisiac quirk. It’s going to take a bit to leave your system, and will probably be uncomfortable until then. I’m going to leave some supplies in case you would like to use them, but I will be taking my leave after getting you settled. The rest of your team and I have decided it’s safer for you to remain in this room than attempt to move you back home. We will be locking the door so no one can come in.”

And you can’t get out.

You didn’t have to say it,. Shouto heard you shuffling around the room behind him, he was so hot, sweat was beading all over his body.

“(Y/N), Why am I so warm?” Shouto groaned out, trembling. It felt like he was sick but with… arousal.

Objects were set down on your desk, before Shouto heard you step towards him.

“The quirk is going to make your libido hyperactive for the next twelve hours or so. It’s very likely that you will be aroused and craving stimulation.”

You sounded so clinical, so robotic, none of the usual warmth in your tone when you talked to Shouto. He wanted to whine, cry that you weren’t treating him the way you usually did. And when he needed your help too! His rational brain was telling him that you were trying to be professional, give your mostly-naked boss privacy.

HIs rational brain told him to stay still, wait until you left the room to grab whatever you had left for him on the desk. It was entirely possible that he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back from grabbing your hands if he turned. He wanted to feel your hands on him, running over his torso, rubbing his back, cupping his cheek. He wanted your touch, so, so bad.

Shouto decided it was time for his rational brain to shut up.

When he turned over, sitting up, you looked like a deer caught in the headlights, already halfway to the door.

“(Y/N)” Shouto rasped, rising to his feet unsteadily. The arousal pooling in his gut was overwhelming - he couldn’t remember a time when he’d been so hard. His penis was so rigid that it hurt, throbbing in his boxers.

You took a step back, eyes trained firmly on Shouto’s face, determined to not let them stray below the belt.

Shouto didn’t know what was happening, couldn’t rationalize any of it. The man wasn’t even in control of himself, feeling as if some demon from hell had invaded his body, taken his dirty thoughts and insisted that he act upon them right now.

The pro hero didn’t even know when he had grabbed you, but then he was pressing you up against his body and it felt so good that the man whimpered. A low, needy sound, softer than the spluttering and shocked noises tumbling from your mouth as you pushed against your boss, trapped in his grip.

“Todoroki-san! Please let go! The quirk-!”

Shouto didn’t listen, didn’t want to. He started grinding his hips against yours, breathing hard through his nose at the pleasure roaring into his veins at the simple contact, his dick pressing into your stomach.

It wasn’t enough though, he needed more.

Shouto dragged you to the exam table, manhandled you up against the flat surface and bent you over despite your struggling, the shouts of “No! Stop!”. Should he stop? Probably. But he wanted this. Had ever since he realized that he loved you, although it hadn’t been this intense before. With one quick movement, Shouto pulled off your scrubs, discarding your underwear in the same movement. He wasn’t concerned about foreplay - he needed, he needed all of you right now.

But the man couldn’t resist falling to his knees behind you, hands moving their iron grip from your palms to your thighs. His fingertip dug into your flesh, dimpling up your skin as he leaned forward, your pussy exposed oh so prettily for him.

Shouto didn’t know if you were screaming or crying or begging for more. He was too focused on the juicy flesh in front of him, leaning forward quickly to greedily slurp at the pink slit. He felt you jump, try to straighten your back but he let his hold on his quirk weaken, simultaneously heating and freezing each thigh held in his grasp.

You quickly resumed the position he had put you in.

The pro hero couldn’t get enough, licking and sucking with fervent desperation at your folds, no rhythm or technique whatsoever. He couldn’t think, not with his face buried between your legs, your thighs shaking in his hold, your sweet little cries (“Todoroki-san /please/! Stop!”) filling the air.

It could have been seconds, or minutes, Shouto had no concept of what was happening, only that you were the best fucking thing he had ever tasted in his life, and he needed everything you had to give him. He couldn’t stop himself from trying to burying his face closer, trying to spread your thighs further and further so he could reach deeper into your puffy pussy.

Your cum gushed onto his tongue, and the man slurped it up, reveling in the stick, wet sensation.

He couldn’t ignore his dick any longer.

Letting go of your thighs, Shouto stood, pushing his boxer briefs down his legs as fast as he could, desperate to sheath himself inside your cunt. He could barely breathe, was so aroused he was light-headed with need.

With his boxers off, the man pressed close to you again, lifting one of your legs to brace it on the table, forcing you to go on tiptoe. When the head of his dick met your folds, Shouto felt his cock jump, the strange sensation making butterflies rise in his stomach.

“Mmhm, (Y/N) I don’t know-I don’t know what’s happening.” Shouto confessed, one hand on your hip, the other guiding his thick cock into your pussy. “You just-oh, you look so good, always - always do. I need to feel - need to feel you so bad.”

He could feel your body trembling, and it briefly crossed his mind that you were probably crying. But his arousal slammed into him like a truck the moment he let his hips twitch forward, sliding his length into your wet pussy. “Oh god, oh-oh god, oh!”

Shouto came, crying into your neck, saliva dripping from his mouth and onto your heated flesh.

To his surprise, his dick was still hard, and the arousal was still pushing, urging, needy.

“(Y/N), I don’t - I’m so sorry.” Shouto stuttered, pulling back just to have his hips plunge forward again. You were so warm, so wet from your own orgasm and from his cum sliding inside you. It was heaven.

Shouto had never touched, nor been touched this much in his entire life. He didn’t know what to do, how to feel; it felt like his brain was on fire, and with each desperate snap of his hips, he was throwing on more and more gasoline. He had longer stamina this time, pounding you into the edge of the table for what felt like forever until his hips stuttered, his legs shaking as he orgasmed inside you.

When Shouto felt himself steady, he was horrified to find himself /still/ aroused. “I’m sorry (Y/N), This isn’t - I didn’t want to do it like this.” He was crying as he rutted against you, tears dripping hot onto your back. “I’ve been trying to be perfect, plan - plan dates, a relationship, anything, as long as it’s you.”

The man buried his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling raggedly. “It can only ever be you.”

His clarity was returning, each orgasm making him feel less and less feverish. At this point, his cock hurt, and he was too sensitive, but still, his hips wouldn’t stop.

“I was going - going to ask if we could go out.” A lie, but it felt like the right thing to say. You were definitely crying underneath him, Shouto would be lower than trash if he didn’t try to comfort you. You didn’t need to know that the pro hero would rather have made you his home-doctor than ask you out. That way you’d be at his house, waiting for him, just like a pretty little wife, like a mother.

“I love you… think I always have.”

It felt good for Shouto to admit it out loud.

#yandere #yandere oneshot #todoroki shouto #yandere shouto #aphrodisiac #uh oh #Shouto lies #Shouto #bnha shouto #shouto x reader #shouto x y/n #yandere todoroki

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imaginewarehouse · 4 years

Text

Various Males x Fem!ExModel!Reader || Oneshot

Plot: You, a retired model get hired at Cloud 9 and, not-at-all-surprisingly, you get harassed by every allegeable (According to them) bachelor in the place- but god fucking damnit! You’re just here to get a paycheck??!

“You can’t knock ‘em out, you cant walk away,

Try desperately to think about the politest way to say,

“Just get out of my face,”, “Just leave me alone,”

“And no you cant have my number,”,

“Why?”

“Cuz I lost my phone.”

(Inspired by Lily Allen’s Knock ‘Em Out)

Includes (In order of appearance after the introduction bit): Sal Kazlauskas, Garret McNeil, Tate Staskiewicz, Isaac (And I think my favouritism here definitely bleeds through*Cough*), Elias Greene, Cory, Jonah Simms, and Marcus White.

Warnings: Sal, harassment (They leave after you say no though. Just to be sure)

🔆 🔆 🔆

“And uh, yeah one last thing before we all hop off to work! We have a new Cloud 9 family member. Y/N! Would you like to stand up?” Glenn, the lovely man who took your interview a week ago and then went out of his way today to look for you out front in the morning to show you around quickly and guide you through clocking in, finds you in the crowd of workers and gestures for you to stand.

Oh, uh- uhh, okay! Up we get, then, you think as you stand up like he said and take a look around at all the judging eyes, which normally wouldn’t phase you but here is a lot scarier than what you’re used to. This an entirely different environment to getting up at a modelling gig- you know nothing about working this kind of job! You’ve never done it, so, you’re afraid they’ll judge you right off the bat and make it difficult for you to ask questions. And you can’t keep bothering Glenn- he has more important things to do.

Oh god, you hear whispering. You peer around. Where is that coming from?-

“This is Y/N L/N! She’ll be working with Go back’s today,” Right, Go Back’s Easy enough; Glenn explained them earlier before the meeting started. “So if you see her in your area- be sure to say hello and see if she needs some help, K? Good. We’re jazzed to have you with us Y/N.”

“Thank you!” You quip quickly, then sit down and focus on Glenn again, hoping dearly at the same time that attention disperses from you immediately.

Glenn smiles, glancing down at his clipboard for any last-minute messages. “Okay! I think that’s it, so- “

The whispering from before suddenly cuts off. “Uh yeah, question?” Glenn stops short when a man in the back kind of rudely cuts him off, but sighs out a ‘Yes, Marcus?’ as the woman beside him - Dina, - rolls her eyes severely. Oh, you let a tiny ghost of a smirk slip over your lips. That’s kind of a reaction, isn’t it? “Yo- new girl.” What- me- w h y- You immediately get awkward again and twist around in your chair, but don’t really know who to look at. Luckily the tall brunette in the warehouse uniform is pointing, so you figure it out pretty quick that that’s who you’re looking for, and calm down. Mostly.

Yeah? You raise one eyebrow. “Hi?”

He grins back to the right and the left of him, to his equally pleased buddies and pals, before raising a Vogue magazine- and it’s the issue on which you scored the front page. Jeez, that was months ago! “Is this you?”

A chorus of ‘Ohhhhh’ and general excitement travels around the room and for the first time ever, you’re half ashamed to admit that yes that is you. In your usual circle this is something to be proud of… but you get that it isn’t really like that, in non-modelling circles. In fact, it could be something to be embarrassed about.

Especially seeing that oh dude and his gang of Michael Myers fashion wannabes look like a hungry, dim-witted, wolves rather than plainly interested about your modelling career.

But, still, you smile politely and nod. Hopefully it’ll be forgotten before the afternoon, at least. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Nice.”

Hmm… you really, really hope that it’s forgotten soon, at least, as you turn back around to face the front again as Glenn sends everyone off to work. Because if not, then these boys are going to learn the hard way that models take self-defence classes religiously.

Or at least you are going to have a very uncomfortable day, which is just great. You groan inwardly at the thought, as you gather up your coffee from the table beside you and drop it in the trash can on the way out.

You’re just doing your own thing and someone

Comes out of the blue,

They’re like,

“Alright”

But he’s saying

“Yeah can I take your digits?”

And you’re like, “No, not in a million years, you’re nasty.

Please leave me alone.”

There’s already so many Go Back’s! You think excitedly, as you get to work looking for where things should be. You’re glad to have something to do- at your first job with Chuck E Cheese, before you got into the modelling thing, you were basically useless the first day because you weren’t allowed to grill yet, you didn’t know how to assemble, and they didn’t want you out on the floor for the birthday party that was happening, in fear that you would mess up royally. So you just sat around trying not bother anyone, and that felt terrible. So, wandering the aisles of Cloud 9 with a full shopping trolley searching for products and neatening things up? Sounds like a good deal to you. Yes please.

“Uhh, hi.”

You practically jump entirely out of your skin, hearing the voice right beside you and whip your head around to see a balding guy in a blue Cloud 9 jacket. Is this man licking his fingers!?

“Uh,” You step back with your brightest, most polite smile, picking something up from the Go Back’s cart and rounding it to put it between you and the man, before acting like you’re stupid enough to be putting barbecue sauce in the Barbie section, and then… “Oh, oops! Silly me!” You flash the guy a nervous look. “I’m still working things out… “

Well? Better to look like an absolute idiot, then be standing within grabbing radius of the creepy man licking his fingers that you’re all alone in the middle of an empty aisle with. “Um… so, what’s up? Did someone send you to find me, or… am I doing something wrong? You know better than me, after all!”

“No… “His gaze licks up your form and if it weren’t for all your ‘training’ in staying still and not feeling this kind of thing- you absolutely would have wigged out. “You’re doing fine… Just wanted to see you.”

Boy- if anyone else could see your face right at this moment, full of disgust and mild horror, you’re sure you would be YouTubes next hit. Or a meme. “Oh… “You nervously chuckle. “Um, well, I’m gonna… go… “You pull the trolley around so that you can back up out the back of the aisle and escape through stuffed toys, into the open but his hand comes down on the other end of the trolley- stopping it. Before you can stop yourself, verbal diarrhoea spews from your lips. “Glenn has my resume- there’s a photo on there you can have.”

“That’s okay I prefer them to be breathing.” Both his hands are on the end of your trolley now, tight so his knuckles turn white, and he’s breathing unnecessarily heavy. He’s even leaning over the trolley some like his body really can’t handle whatever terrible heat is plaguing it right now. Oh god, oh god oh god oh god… this is so gross.

“Well, that’s… u-understandable...”

He looks up into your eyes, now, and doesn’t blink. Who the hell is this guy?! “Say… “ Oh no, oh no- he’s coming around the trolley-he’s coming around-he’s close-too close-too close-mayday-MAYDAY- Slowly, in your face, he licks up his thumb, makes an ‘Mm,’ sound, and you deeply wince; So much so in fact that one of your eyes completely closes. “Could I take your phone number?”

You absolutely couldn’t have helped what happened next if you had wanted to.

“Eeeeuuuwwwwwwww no not in a million years, your nasty, please leave me alone!!” You exclaim in a high voice before abandoning the trolley and rushing off to customer service.

“No you cant have my number,”

“Why?”

“Cuz I lost my phone.”

By the time you got to the front desk, you had basically calmed down and were mostly just stressed that you left the Go Back’s behind- but still must look troubled as the guy manning the front desk makes a confused, half-concerned but mostly intrigued kind of face at you as you stop there. You’re about to explain your appearance - that or just shrug, not too bothered about reporting whatever mess that was. Not on your first day, at least. No way. - when his face relaxes, and he nods. “Ohhh. Damn, Sal got to you?”

Sal? Was that the guy’s name? You didn’t check. “Oh, was that his name? I was a bit too preoccupied by his eyeballs sucking out my soul, to notice his name tag.” Now that you’re thinking about it, though, you glance at this man’s name tag. Garret.

“Yep, that’s Sal. That’s just one of the wonderful things involved in working here that you’ll just have to get used to.” Garret grins, offering you a chill perspective with a side of cynicism. You sigh, truly feeling relieved that you’ve found a normal person and relax your back against the taller part of the desk.

“Brilliant.” The sarcasm drips off the tip of your tongue.

“You’ll have to deal with a lotta that here, though, looking like you do.” You turn your head to the side to look already exhausted just by the idea, at him. He shrugs. “Hey, I don’t make the rules. I just speak the truth.”

“God- I feel sorry for the other women working here.”

“Oh, no. They’re in a completely different wheelhouse to you. Sorry.” Garret leans on his forearms on the desk, and you roll over to lean on your shoulder and pay attention. “See, you’re a model- “

“I was a model,”

“You were a model- which through primitive male thought process makes you prime real estate. Whoever manages to ‘bag’ you, for lack of a better word I apologise, gets some serious bragging rights.” He shrugs, and looks vaguely apologetic but still some how shameless as this utter bullshit slips out of his mouth. “We can’t help it- some of us don’t even know we’re doing that, but we are. Actually, I’m probably the only one who’ll admit it… which… kinda makes me your best option. Self-awareness, and all that.”

Oh. A dry laugh comes out of you as you feel a text come through in your back pocket and pull out your phone. As you see that its not an urgent message, you immediately put the phone back and glance around for any supervisors before returning to your conversation with Garret. “Oh- of course it does.”

“Exactly!” He grins, and you can’t tell through his expression at all whether he’s genuinely this clueless or if he’s just shooting his shot. “So- “

“No, you can’t have my number.”

“Why?”

Deadass, in a very monotone voice, you say: “I lost my phone.”

Then the two of you just have a stare off for a minute. Garret because he just saw you use your phone, and you because you wont back down.

“Oh yeah, actually yeah I’m, I’m pregnant. I’m having a baby in like 6 months, so no. Yeah, yeah… “

“You know,” The chemist pipes up from behind the Pharmacy desk as you put back some pill boxes he said were fine to return to the shelves, and you glance over at him to show you’re listening, and check his name tag. “I myself considered a career in modelling, before this. People even say, now, that I could model.”

Oh boy. You think, fighting not roll your eyes. And how old are you? Early 30’s? I don’t think so buddy.

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t recommend it.” You flash him a nervous grin before returning to your shelving. “You’re good for, like, 3 years. But then you hit 22 and unless you look like Victoria Justice shared with you whatever youth fountain she got chucked into, then you have to find something else to do with your life- despite having nothing to fall back on.” Okay… so… I might be a bit bitter.

Tate chuckles - and oh boy, he sounds just like your old manager. Totally fake, -, hiding his hands in his lab coat pockets. “Yeah, you’re probably right… Besides, I got the better end of the deal, anyway. Doctor for the doctors, they call us.” They call Pharmacists that? Who? That’s news to you. “Ahhh, yeah… I’m doing pretty well for myself.”

“Yep.” Forcing a fake smile his way, you leave the shelf you were stocking and get closer to the desk to stock another, as Tate’s eyes follow you waiting for encouragement of some kind. Doesn’t he have a job to do?? “You chose well!”

“Yeah, thanks. I know.” Ffffff-f a r out. This guy! “You know, you and me, we’d make a good couple.”

Oh? Dear god? You pause your shelving in surprise at the bomb this man has just dropped so casually, fish oil tablets paused on their journey to the shelf mid-air. Could Garret’s crazy-pants theory have been right?

“Ohh,” You giggle nervously, returning to work a bit faster now. “I don’t know. I think for a pharmacist like you, I would envision, like… “An actual doctor? No, I can’t say that. “A personal trainer, or something. Keep you both healthy all-round, you know? Now that’s a power team.” As long as that personal trainer has humility enough for the both of them, at least.

“Mergh,” He makes a face, like ‘What the heck are you talking about??’, before shaking his head of the things you just said and leaning over the desk towards you. You keep packing, even faster now. Like the Flash. Go! Go! Go! Death Con 5!! “So, whadaya say? I could pick you up Friday after work, and we could head up to one of my timeshares?” He says that like it’s such a selling point! You think, fighting off the powerful urge to laugh but still feeling the panic deep in the pits of your soul. “Stake it out together for the weekend? Get to know each other?”

“Uhh… “Excuses! What are they? You slowly stop stocking, turning around to face him and crossing your arms. The man deserves to at least be faced as he’s rejected; You’re kind enough to give him that, at least. “I’d love to! But, the thing is… “Chewing your bottom lip, you think hard.

Ding Ding Ding!!

“The thing is, Tate… “You fake some nerves, now. “I’m actually, uh… “You look up, face relaxing. “Pregnant.”

Oh boy, the way that man recoils at that word, like a terrified, disgruntled, blonde hedgehog. You’re going to laugh so hard about it, later!! “Oh.”

“Yeah! Oh, I mean, yeah… I’m gonna be having a baby, in like, 6 months so… yeah… Yep.“ You shrug to him, as if its just so unfortunate. “Shame.”

She looks in her bag, takes out a fag, tries to get away from the guy on a blag,

Can’t find a light.

‘’Here, use mine.’’

‘’See the thing is I just don’t have the time.’’

Ahh, lunch. Now you can check your texts! Hmm, you look through your notifications and gradually lose excitement. Mum… mum… mum… phone bill company… friend… mum again…

Ah, the glamorous life of the famous.

You roll your eyes, and get to responding to your mothers texts about dinner and when you’ll be home and how your first day is going, not noticing the not-so-jolly, not-so-green-(unless-you-meant-pot) giant approaching you. When you finally finish responding to both your mum and your friend, you put your phone away and start unwrapping your lunch- a typical ham sandwich that you’re actually pretty excited about. That’s one good thing about your sudden drop in financial status; You can put in your damn sandwich as many pieces of ham and cheese as you like. Grinning excitedly, you pick it up and have it halfway to your mouth before another person - a very heavy, large person, - drops down beside you on the bench you’ve commandeered behind the store. You close your mouth without any delicious lunch inside it and look up, politely to the person who’s joined you.

And all you can think, is wow.

He could put you in a suitcase and walk off with you right now and have no problems.

That’s wow.

“Hi! I’m Y/N,” You introduce yourself, offering a hand for him to shake.

“I know.” Oh, well yeah okay that’s understandable. Glenn did introduce you to everyone this morning. Despite the man’s less-then-excited response, he takes your hand in his and shakes. It makes you all giddy inside, honestly. So b i g. “Names Isaac.”

Do you remember Isaac in the breakroom this morning? You wrack your brain for him, because surely if he was there you noticed him-

Oh. Yep, you remember him. He was one of that Marcus-Dude’s pals chuckling and whispering behind him. He was one of the men that had the magazine with you on the front, and if there’s one thing you know about men who carry Vogue in their locker’s it’s that they fit into only 2 groups- interested in fashion, obviously… and interested in the women. And this man clearly is not interested in fashion. Immediately, on this realisation, you feel disappointed- you really could have liked this man right off the bat…

But it looks like he’s just going to be another of the men at this store you have to get to know, before becoming friendly with.

“So,” He starts, and you fight off a wince. Hopefully, you don’t know what’s coming. But… the likeliness of that is not high. “You wanna go out, some time? I’m a big fan of your work.” He smirks.

“Oh, ha ha.” You laugh sarcastically, shaking your head and returning to your sandwich. You take a bite and- Ahhhhhh, so worth the wait. Oh my god. Food orgasm. “At least you’re honest!”

“Yeah, so is that a yes?” His face brightens a smidgeon, which is a lot seeing as he doesn’t seem to be totally all there, in the first place.

You look up at Isaac, and look apologetic. He was honest with you so its only fair that you’re genuine with him. “Sorry… “

“Ah- actually, I don’t know if this’ll change your mind, but I have 2 weeks to live, so… “

Never mind on that honesty thing, then.

Dull-eyed, you stare up at him. “… Uh-huh.”

“Its true! I have, uh, cancer.” He insists, nodding his head and forcing his eyebrows up his forehead all serious-like.

“Cancer.” Right.

“Yep.”

Right, time to look in the bag... You start to wrap up your lunch again - sadly, as now you’ll have to wait until the end of the day and the bus ride home to eat it, - and plop it back away in your bag, getting up and pulling out a cigarette instead- that should hold you over until the end of the day. “My lunch break is actually over, so I should go- Damn, where’s my light?“

Isaac rifles through his pockets until he pulls out an old looking neon orange lighter, and offers it to you. “Here, use mine.”

Oh, no. You stare at it like a deer in headlights. If you accept that, like you really want to right now because it’s been a month since your last smoke, then you have obligations to sit with him for another couple minutes, at least.

Aghh… You groan and whine on the inside, before making up your mind and flinging the cigarette into a puddle. “See the thing is, I don’t actually have the time-”

“Go away now, let me go.”

“Are you stupid? Or just a little slow?”

“Ughhh… “This one has been giving you looks all day, but had no courage until now to speak to you- but the thing is? He didn’t have the smarts, either, to take off his wedding ring at least before he decided to be a bastard and bother you. So you feel absolutely no regret about being exactly as dismissive or plain rude, as you feel. “Elias? Go away now.”

The nervous man, who’s been ringing his hands this whole time and stuttering through failed date requests that you pretended you didn’t understand because of his struggle, gets panicked. “Just let me ask!- Will, will you go out with me?”

“No.” You yawn, dropping a piglet toy into a basket.

“But!- “

Turning away, you start pushing your trolley along to get to the next aisle. “Let me go.”

“We can go wherever you like!”

Sighhhhhhhhh. You turn around and grant him an audience, putting your hands on your hips and raising you brows at the wedding band on his left hand.

“Are you stupid? Or just a little slow?”

“Please fuck off.”

Oh good god in heaven, they’re going bigger with their proposals.

“Y/N! Will you go out with me?”

This man, Corey, has grabbed the announcement phone now that you’re walking away, making you freeze like the dad possum in Over The hedge and seriously consider playing dead, too, as you slowly turn around to look at him again.

Oh, if only looks could kill- he would be so dead that even Vlad the Impaler’s victims would laugh.

This is your first day, and the fact that you’re being harassed by multiple stupid men is bad enough but now he’s calling attention to you like this? Glenn’s going to think you’re a troublemaker!! Jesus fucking Christ- you need this job! Corey continues to talk into the speaker phone, even as he looks into your eyes and sees his death. “And… now… you’re looking at me like that, so uh… I’m just gonna… say please?”

… “’Please’ fuck off.”

“Yes ma’am-“

“Go away now, I’ve made myself clear.

I don’t think so.

Nah its not gonna happen.

Not in a million years.”

Since the run-in with Corey and the following spike in your blood pressure, you’ve calmed down again. But now you’re looking into the two faces of a ‘Mateo’, who you apparently work with, and a ‘Castor’ who does not work here and is not shopping but is still in your face and is t h i s close to feeding that ugly tie to his cousin.

But, still, you’re going to stay graceful, because Castor constantly looks like he’s 3 seconds from pooing himself. “Now please go away, now… I think I’ve made myself clear.” By explaining, politely, that you aren’t looking for a man but thank you for the offer, Castor.

“Oh, but you haven’t heard what Castor does for a living! He’s in insurance,” Mateo explains to you, like this is some huge game changer. When you don’t react, he adds that there’s good money, insurance.

You almost laugh. Does this boy really think you’re such a gold digger? Boy- if I wanted riches then I could’ve easily become a C-Class actor who has no skills in the area, but is pretty so gets praised like she does- like a lotta my model friends.

Instead I’m here, at Cloud 9.

Come to your own conclusions.

But instead of saying that, though, you just shake your head nervously. “I don’t think so… “

“But!- “

“Nah… sorry, its… not gonna happen… “

“But Castor is- “

“Not in a million years… “

“Aw, no. I gotta go. My house is on fire.”

Now, at least this one is respectful, you think, listening to him talk about the products you’re shelving together. He had come over and offered to give you a hand when you looked confused, as a ‘Cheyanne’ had handed you a scanner earlier and then promptly ran off, despite your utter incompetence. You were so relieved that this guy turned up!!

“… so, you just punch in reduce .50, and scan! Its pretty easy, if you have it properly explained to you. I- I was actually in the same situation, as you! When I first started here, except I ended up, uh, reducing all the items in electronics to 15 cense rather than discounting it all 15 percent.” A grin spreads across your lips at the story, and thank god that Jonah had turned up before that happened to you and, with your luck, you got fired for it.

“Oh no!”

“Yeah- Amy, our uh, floor supervisor, was pretty cranky with me about that… “He laughs himself, resting his hands on his hips; Still looking nervous at the memory.

You look back down at the scanner you’re holding and shake your head. “Well at least you know, now! And thank you so much for coming to my aid, haha. I was so lost- you’ve been a huge help! A life saver, truly.”

“Yeah… “ He gives a cute little, reserved smile. “So, uh, its basically the end of the day! Hope you’re first day hasn’t been too strenuous. At the end of my first day, I know I was tired. But I got to go out with a couple of the other employees and have a drink, to destress. If-If you were free, we could… do something. Together.” Your eyebrows slowly raise up your forehead at that, and you turn to look up Jonah, sceptical. What was that? You sure have had a long day, and its about to get a lot longer if this boy is asking what you think he is. “Sorry! Sorry, that sounded weird. Um, I guess what I’m really asking, is… would you like to, I dunno, go out with me sometime? I know some great places.”

Oh, noooooo! You cry, on the inside. You thought you found a normal one!

Still, he is being so nice… The least you could do is let him down easily.

“Oh, Jonah, I actually… oh- sorry.” Your phone beeps in your pocket and you take it out quickly to have a glance - its just your mother… again, - … and suddenly get an idea. Feigning shock, you quickly put the phone away and put down the scanner. It’s time to clock out and go home, anyway, thank god. “I have to go! That was my mum, uh- I really have to go!”

“Wow, wow, wow, what’s wrong?? Can I help with anything?”

Oh… he looks so concerned. He’s sweet.

But before you can rethink your words, this living horror slips out. “My-my house is on fire.”

Oh god, you’re a horrible person.

“I’ve, I’ve got herpes. No- Syphilis!”

Oh thank god the day is over. Rolling your shoulders back, you kneel down at your bottom locker, open it up and take out your bag. Now you can go home and put on Gotham on Netflix, wear no pants and eat thin mints until you fall asleep.

When you get up, you aren’t watching out for a man to be standing barely half a foot away from you - Your mistake, obviously, - so you jolt right out of your skin when you see him and curse. What is wrong with these men? Does Cloud 9 offer complimentary staff ninja classes along with their lack of health insurance? Man, classy company. “Sorry!” You look up past the coveralls after stepping a safe distance back from him, and immediately feel dread deep in your chest. “Oh, hi. Marcus, was it?”

“That’s me! How was your first day?” He asks, seeming polite enough despite the fact that you’re cornered between tall boy and the lockers. And you’re too tired to try and slip away- this boy will get out of your way.

“It was good! Thanks for asking. I’m ready to go home and collapse, though.” You admit, shoulders dropping and a tired smile on your lips. Mmm… thin mints… bed… blankets… Cory Michael Smith… I can taste it… Marcus just needs to get out of my way.

“I hear that.” Evidently not quite as deeply, though, as he moves on pretty fast. “Listen- I was thinking if you’re into it we could… go out, some time.” He tilts his head forward to clarify, “On a date,”, in case that part hadn’t translated, and chuckles. “We could see a movie or get drinks, or something, I don’t know. How about tonight?”

T-tonight? The word nearly slips from your lips; All disbelief and tears and exhaustion, included. You’re so tired. “Um… you know, tempting offer, but um… “He looks so hopeful. It nearly changes your mind. “Not tonight.”

“OH! So like, tomorrow?” Oh christ- “Cuz I’m supposed to watch Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here with my mum, but… no, I can blow that off! So, tomorrow?”

You take a deep breath, not really knowing what you can say. “Marcus… “He raises his eyebrows, waiting for an answer. “… I have herpes.”

“Wait, what??” He steps back, nearly tripping over a table in his fear that just being near you will cause him to contract the disease, and you let your guard down in relief. Yep, for sure, definitely. If it makes him back off, then yes- you have herpes. You have a raging, festering case of herpes.

“Yeah! Or-“ Squinting, you pretend to sift through your brain. “Was it Syphilis?” This boys eyes basically bulge out of his head and you’re totally going to laugh about it later, but right now you have to get out of there. You waive your hand dismissively and walk on by him towards the door like you don’t have a care in the world. Before you leave though, you turn around a flash Marcus a big smile. “Either way, ew, right? Well, see you tomorrow buddy! Gotta go! Enjoy I’m A Celebrity with your mum.” Then you’re gone.

Tomorrow is going to be a much better day, once that rumour is properly spread.

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klaudia2646 · 3 years

Text

A wise person said that all good things come to an end. True. It’s been so very nice in the last week. We finally had some nice warmer and sunny weather but starting today it will be gray, chilly and rainy. I am grateful for the good weather that we just got though.

Last Saturday we went to Hazleton to check out this Amish store. I love to go out to the country especially Amish country, they had such gorgeous pieces of furniture. They’re pricey though but beautiful. I really wanted to explore more, David wanted to go back and look around for some of the furniture we need so we headed back to town. I’ll go back at some point maybe in the spring. But we did go around to different places and found some pieces of furniture, of course they’ll get delivered in a couple of weeks.

We tried our second Mexican restaurant called Amigos. I liked it much better than the first one. I guess we’re used ti certain kind of “Tex-Mex” food like the ones they served at Papitos or Don Jose in Arkansas.

I had an interview for a job here doing customer service in the healthcare area. I’ve heard many good things about this company and hopefully it’ll work out. I’ll start Tuesday but right now it’ll be a temporary job that will last 6 to 8 weeks. Depending on how I do they may hire me permanently. The thing I really don’t like is that once I get hired permanently the hours are 10 am to 7 pm. That’s like my whole day. But I’ll see how I like it (or not) and go from there. It is Monday through Friday with no weekends so there’s that.

#hazleton #Iowa #3/17/22 #8:01 am #helmuth country store

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retrievablememories · 4 years

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the assistant | doyoung (m)

title: the assistant pairing: sub!doyoung x black!reader genre: smut request: “Sub Doyoung that works under a (Black) woc as an assistant. He gets turned on when she bosses him around and ends up in a situation where he can’t hide his feelings anymore. Hopefully it’s a smut.” word count: 4.5k warnings: oral (female receiving), handjob, dirty talk, public masturbation/sexual activities, humiliation kink *without insulting names*, dom!female/sub!male a/n: this came out a bit longer than i expected. the title’s a bit generic but the other one i had felt corny. i hope i didn’t make the reader too mean here lol

Taking a job as your assistant over a year and a half ago was both an easy and hard decision—though mostly easy.

Doyoung needed the money, so he wasn’t going to turn down the offer. And he had the skills for it, which he wasn’t going to let go to waste. But he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle the prospect of being sexually attracted to his boss.

It wasn’t just your looks, although they certainly helped. It was your air of authority and the way you knew how to get people to like you or do whatever you requested of them. There was practically no one you were afraid to call out if necessary, regardless if they were a lower-level employee or a fellow boss at the firm. You liked things to be done a certain way, and you wasted little time with hesitating like many others on the job did when they needed a task completed.

He could tell your demeanor from that first interview, and it made him sweat. It pleased him and compelled him to achieve whatever he could during the hiring process to get close to you. Doyoung found it hard to get you off his mind, thinking about you from the time he left that interview to the hour before he fell asleep that night. He was undeniably pleased when he got the job, but even more happy that he’d be getting to work for someone like you.

Doyoung is a smart man, and he takes pride in a job well done. However...he’s not above making the occasional mistake just to hear you reprimand him. Nothing big enough to seriously impact your business, and never too often, or you’d probably have him kicked out. But every once in a while, he lets something “slip” his careful eye so he can hear your irritated voice or see your pretty eyes roll.

Sometimes he thinks he might be one of the strangest men on Earth to get enjoyment from things that would normally make others feel embarrassed and upset, but he doesn’t mind it too much. He knows what he likes, which is at least more than many others can say.

He’s not sure what he’d do if you knew about his secret, or about how he feels things specifically for you that an employee should never feel towards their boss. But he’ll continue to indulge as long as he can keep it to himself.

“I hope you’re ready for the presentation today.” You tell Doyoung this as you both take the elevator to your department floor. The only practical answer you expect is a yes, and he knows this. Thankfully for him, he’s not one to disappoint. “You’ve organized all the data I sent over to you and added it to the presentation, right?”

“Of course. Have I ever failed you?”

You sigh, raising your eyebrows. “Those errors on your reports say otherwise, no matter how small they are. Don’t get too cocky about your track record yet, everyone messes up sooner or later.”

“Sounds like you don’t have any faith in me.” Doyoung laughs.

“Doyoung. If I didn’t have any faith in you, I wouldn’t have hired you.” You pat his shoulder good-naturedly, and he relishes that touch for a moment. “But I also know how humans work.” You both walk off the elevator when it finally stops, and Doyoung acknowledges a few people who pass by, though his eyes are always subtly drawn back to you.

The conference room is almost full with the other bosses and higher-ups who have gathered for today’s meeting. It’s a panel, so there will be a few more people who go before and after you.

When it’s your turn to go up, you take the USB Doyoung’s given you with the presentation on it.

The first few slides look as they should, which you pretty much expected, but you’re still glad to see that Doyoung got everything right.

You flip to the next slide of the presentation for the data and start going through it, but you quickly realize that something is wrong. None of the numbers match what you remember reviewing for this year’s report. You stop and blink for a few moments, trying to register what you’re seeing. Doyoung sits up in his chair, and his body goes stiff as he realizes his mistake. He knows for sure he imported the data into the PowerPoint, but he must not have been paying enough attention to which data he was using; all of this information is from last year.

There are a few disgruntled sounds from the meeting attendees, some born from secondhand embarrassment, others confusion, and some others annoyance. You clasp your hands together, putting on a fake smile as you regard the other members of the room. “Well...looks like there’s been a mistake.”

The meeting organizer speaks up. “We can continue on with the others and schedule your segment for another day. We’re all on a tight schedule right now, so I’m afraid there isn’t enough time to do this over today.” He gives you a regretful look, and you nod in response. You just hope you don’t get reprimanded for it too badly later.

Doyoung is sweating bullets when you return to your seat next to him. He glances over at you, though he can’t look you directly in the eye. You don’t even give him a glance back, instead keeping your eyes straight ahead on the next person’s presentation. He doesn’t need you to look at him, though; he already knows from your posture and energy that you’re pissed.

The rest of the meeting goes by fast. Maybe too fast. Everyone starts talking among themselves and packing up their things to leave, and you go to the organizer to set another date for your presentation. Doyoung waits until you’re finished with the other man before daring to approach you.

He stumbles over his words as he tries to speak. “Y/N, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

You give him a look and brush him off as neutrally as you can without drawing the attention of the others filing out of the room.“Let’s talk in my office.”

The walk to your office seems to last forever, though it’s only a minute or two in actuality. Doyoung doesn’t know what to think—will you decide to get rid of him? This is the first major mistake he’s made, but he is not so confident that you’ll be very forgiving with the past errors he’s made.

“Close the door behind you,” you say when you finally get in the office. Doyoung does as instructed and only sits down after you gesture for him to take the chair in front of your desk. After you’re both settled, you sigh and put your head in your hands.

You keep that position for a while, which makes him nervous. He isn’t sure if he’s supposed to speak first, so he keeps quiet and waits to see what you’ll do.

Possibly the weirdest part of all this is the thread of excitement that still pulses through him. He’s anxious to know what you’ll say to him, whether good or bad. He’s not ecstatic at the thought of losing his job, no, but he also can’t deny that he likes hearing you raise your voice at him.

You lift your head to look at him, and he feels immobilized underneath your gaze. “I should have you fired, you know that?” He tenses at that. “After making such a huge mistake in front of the upper management, and having to reschedule the damn meeting…everyone spent their precious time coming out here today, pulling themselves away from their own busy schedules...”

Your words make Doyoung panic a bit on the inside, yet they also stoke the fires of his attraction to you. He curses himself in his head. He’s usually better than this at keeping himself under control, but something about your pointed anger today is speaking directly to a deep part of him.

“Whenever I tell you to do something related to the job, you should do it.”

“I know, o-of course. It was a mistake, but—”

“But? Did you really not realize the information you had was from last year?”

“I-it slipped my attention.” Doyoung can feel heat creeping up his neck, but also rushing farther down below the belt. He’s only seen you this upset before on a few other occasions, and none of them were directed at him. He’s a little ashamed to say that it’s still turning him on, though he also realizes the gravity of his mistake. “I know I can’t make up for what’s already happened, but I’ll do better.”

“You definitely will do better, because you’re staying overtime to fix it.” He figured that much. “There’s not enough time to deal with this mess now.” You sit back in your desk chair, crossing your arms. “Don’t look so anxious about it. I’m still pissed at you, obviously, but I’m not letting you go. There are a lot of fools around here, and I don’t need any of them trying to become my assistant if you leave.”

Doyoung’s shoulders deflate a little from the relief he feels at that, with some of the built-up tension leaving his body. There is still another uncomfortable problem left, though—the bulge in his pants. His face turns redder with the knowledge that he’s gotten hard in front of you, with the only thing to hide it being the folder of documents he’s holding.

You lean over the desk a little, examining your assistant closely. “Doyoung, you’re turning beet red. The hell? Are you getting sick or something?”

“N-no! I’m not sick, really.” His hands tighten around the folder as he says this, and he tries to look at you as nonchalantly as he can manage, though the eye contact still sends his pulse throbbing.

You stare at him for a few more seconds, trying to read him and getting nothing but more nervousness. “You know what…” You shake your head. “Just go home early and do your overtime tomorrow. You clearly need a break to pull yourself together.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. I don’t need you messing up any more of my work if you’re this flustered. Go on, go.”

Doyoung nods, wondering how he’s going to get out of the chair without making it too obvious that he’s sprung a hard-on from your reprimands. You sigh and press your fingers to your temples for a long moment, and he takes this opportunity to stand up and try to zip out of the room before you can open your eyes again.

“Wait. Give me the folder.”

He freezes with his back to you.

“The-the folder?”

“Yes, Doyoung, that folder you’re holding right there.” You roll your eyes. “Come on. Don’t you need to be getting home?”

“Right, yes…” Doyoung hesitates for a moment longer before passing the folder to you, then he quickly covers himself by crossing his hands in front of his crotch. The movement isn’t as natural as he’d like it to be. You raise an eyebrow at his stiff demeanor, but you don’t say anything immediately. He takes that as his cue to escape, and he goes to the door as calmly as possible.

“Remember your overtime tomorrow,” you call out as he opens the door to your office. He turns his head to look back at you, nodding in response. He can’t read the expression on your face, and he doesn’t stick around much longer to find out what you could possibly be thinking.

Once Doyoung gathers his things, he sneaks off to the men’s bathroom. His hands shake a little as he unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants, pulling his hard cock out and gripping his shaft tightly. A tiny moan slips out, though he quickly silences his voice as he begins stroking himself.

All your words from earlier circle around in his head as he gets himself off, his breaths labored and echoing slightly around the walls of the bathroom stall. He imagines that you’re the one pleasuring him, your fingers wrapping around his dick as you laugh at how hard and desperate he is for you. Maybe if he’s good, you’ll let him cum in your mouth.

He’s learned how to get himself off quickly and quietly in the work bathrooms by now, so it only takes a few more minutes before he’s spilling over his fingers, the sound of your name passing through his lips almost inaudibly. After he cleans himself up and flushes the toilet, he spends a few more minutes in the stall to calm his mind and take some deep breaths.

“Ugh…fuck,” he mumbles to himself. The thought of doing overtime doesn’t thrill him, and he still feels shitty about making such a big mistake, but there’s nothing left to do except fix his errors.

Friday goes like any other workday, and Doyoung doesn’t notice anything unusual from you that would’ve indicated you knew what his “problem” was yesterday. He’s a little relieved about that, but he’s still not reassured enough to disregard the incident.

The day passes by more quickly than Doyoung would like, and soon it’s already time for regular office hours to end—and his extra work to begin. He seats himself at his desk, nodding goodbye to the last few coworkers who straggle out of the room. He didn’t see you leave your office, but he figures you must already be gone because the room is dark.

For a few minutes, it’s just Doyoung working by himself. He’s barely gotten started with the bulk of the document fixes when he hears rustling and a door opening. He wonders if it’s someone else doing overtime or somebody who forgot their belongings. What he doesn’t expect to see is you walking towards his desk.

“I thought you were going home?” Doyoung asks, looking up at you curiously. His hands pause over the keys.

“I am; don’t think I want to stay here all night. But I need to talk to you about something first.” You cross your arms, looking at Doyoung from behind his computer monitor.

A cold sweat breaks out on his skin, though he tries to keep his face neutral. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Your behavior after the presentation yesterday. In my office.”

As he thought, there was no way he could’ve hidden it or gotten away with it. He hangs his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “Y/N, please. Forgive—”

“Wait. Let me finish first.”

Doyoung stops talking immediately. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and watches you carefully to see what you’ll do.

“I have enough sense to figure out that you were far from sick, but I sent you away to save us both the embarrassment of you nutting in your pants.” His fingers twitch at your words, but he remains silent as he wearily waits for you to continue speaking. At this point, he’s unsure which direction this will go in; will you decide to go ahead and fire him after you said you wouldn’t? Will you scold him and then pretend like none of it ever happened? “You’re crazy as hell, you know that?”

He can’t meet your eyes anymore and instead looks at where his hands still rest on the desk. He stays quiet, mostly because he’s unsure how to respond in any justifiable way.

“You’re acting like a scared puppy now, but you were pretty damn shameless yesterday. Getting hard in front of your boss, really?” You reach out to him. He doesn’t know what your intention is, but he surely doesn’t anticipate you grabbing his tie. You’re not even trying to pull him closer; you simply hold the fabric in your hand, passing your thumb over its patterns. “Do you think any of that was appropriate?” you ask, your voice calm.

“N-no, it’s not.”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you practically sprinting to the bathroom, too. Are you gonna tell me what you did in there, or do I have to guess?”

Doyoung’s cheeks are blazing again, and he can hardly believe that you’re questioning him like this, or that he’s actually about to admit to it.

“I...I, um. I...jerked off.”

“Jerked off to the thought of me. Right?” He can only nod, keeping his eyes firmly on your hand—which is still holding his tie—instead of your face. “And do you think that’s appropriate?” He shakes his head no.

“Good answer. But you’ve also forgotten that I can do what I want, too. Do you think it’s fair that you’re the only one around here who gets to have any fun?” Now you pull him closer, and you lean forward to meet him halfway. The implications of your words have him risking a glance up at you, surprised that this is your answer.

“Fun?”

Any other thought he might have promptly disappears when you kiss him. He’s taken entirely off guard by your actions, and with his walls down, he lets a particularly needy moan slip out. He likes the feel of your lipstick smearing slightly against his mouth, and most of all, your lips themselves.

Doyoung is embarrassed to be getting hard from a single kiss, but whenever it comes to you, he’s gotten it up for much less. Now that he’s had this one taste of contact, he wants you to touch him more, wherever you see fit. It doesn’t much matter as long as your hands are on him in some way. He leans forward minutely, kissing you a little deeper and wanting to push his tongue into your warm mouth.

You part from him as soon as you feel him push closer, though you still keep a grip on his tie. “This is gonna go my way. Got it? If you don’t want this, say it now and I’ll leave.”

“No, I—stay, please. I want this.” His voice comes out more pleadingly than he meant for it to, but he realizes he’s not really concerned about that as long as you understand how much he really does want this.

You move away from Doyoung and he’s momentarily alarmed that you’re going to leave anyway, but you only shrug your coat off and step out of your heels, leaving them strewn on the office floor. You push him away from the desk in his rolling chair so there’s enough space for you to enter his cubicle and sit comfortably on his desk.

Doyoung’s eyes drop to your legs, which are shiny and smooth under your skirt and most likely just as soft as they look. “Get out of the chair and on your knees,” you tell him. He does so, and you kick the rolling chair away so it’s just you and Doyoung, you sitting on his desk and him kneeling in front of you.

“If you want to make up to me for that embarrassment yesterday, you’ll have to do a lot more than fixing a presentation.” You spread your legs a bit, your skirt riding up as you do, and Doyoung’s eyes hyperfocus on the gift that’s waiting between your thighs. His mouth waters a bit at the thought of finally getting to taste you. “So, don’t keep me waiting. Like I said, I’m not staying here all night.”

Doyoung nods and brings his hands up to the sides of your thighs, feeling buzzed at how he’s touching you in a place he’s never been before. He’d like to take his time peeling off your blouse and skirt, exposing your nude form to his mouth and hands and cock that would like to do nothing but worship you, but he hasn’t been given that much permission. So he keeps within his boundaries and hikes your skirt up more so he can reach your underwear to pull it off.

Your underwear, to his surprise, already has a considerable wet spot on it. It makes his dick throb to know you’re as eager for this as he is, even if you don’t necessarily express it. When you notice him staring at your panties, you grab the hand that’s holding your garments and push it into his face, making him smell your scent. “If you like it so much…”

The smell of you appeals to him on a visceral, primal level. His hands return to your thighs with renewed enthusiasm, gripping your body and pulling you closer to his wanting mouth.

The first stroke of his tongue between your lips makes you shudder, and it makes Doyoung moan out loud. He pushes his tongue into you as his nose nudges your clit, wanting to have more of you as you leak onto him. You grab his hair, though not hard enough to hurt, as you push his face closer into you and arch your hips up.

He responds to your actions by bringing his mouth back up to your clit, enveloping it and sucking it fervently. He doesn’t think to bring his fingers into the mix, as consumed as he is with simply tasting you right now, and your body’s reaction says you are more than content with letting him work his mouth on you.

“Doyoung…” The way you speak his name is surprisingly gentle, much unlike he’s heard anyone else say it before—even previous lovers. Maybe he believes it to be so because of how wrapped up he is in you. He tries not to read into it and get his hopes up, instead focusing on pleasuring you.

His cock strains uncomfortably against his pants, though he ignores it to keep licking into you. There seems to be no limit to how much wetness he can coax out of you. The small cubicle, and the office itself, is quiet except for the subdued hum of computer machinery and Doyoung’s mouth sucking your pussy.

The muscles in your legs flex underneath his fingertips as you get closer to releasing. Your hand slips to the back of his neck, caressing the heated skin there as Doyoung pushes you higher and higher until you’re cumming in his mouth. Your legs tense and try to close around his head as you moan softly, and Doyoung accepts the sensation of being caged in by you. Everything down here is hot and wet and delicious.

You are satisfied and properly spent after your climax, but Doyoung is still hard and you’re not quite done playing with him yet. “Stand up.”

He does so and watches with bated breath as you undo his pants and bring his dick out. It’s already dripping precum and flushed with arousal, but you decide that isn’t enough lubrication and carefully spit on his member to make your strokes smoother. His knees almost give way at seeing your pretty mouth so close to his dick, and he has to grab onto the cubicle wall to steady himself.

“Y/N…” His voice shakes as he speaks your name. Your hand moving across his shaft seems too good to be true, and he wants so much for you to take him into your mouth or even let him press in between your legs. But he certainly can’t deny that being touched this way is ridiculously good, too. You only concentrate on his dick for a little while, but your eyes soon venture up to his face, with his bangs sticking to his forehead from sweat.

“Do you like that?”

“I-I do. So much.”

“So easily satisfied, aren’t you…” you murmur, not really caring if he replies or not. You grip him a little more tightly, and he can hardly stop the whimper that results from it. “What do you do when you’re at home? Nevermind—I bet you hug your pillow and jack yourself off thinking it’s me. How embarrassing, Doyoung.”

You continue on, stroking him faster all the while. “Seriously, when’s the last time you had a warm body? You’re so sensitive.” You slide your thumb over the slit of his cock, and he reacts by pushing his hips closer to you and moaning loudly. There’s no one left on this floor but you two, so he isn’t too afraid of being vocal here. “Don’t tell me you’ve been holding out for me. Maybe I‘ll let you fuck me someday, though...you seem like the kind of man who knows what to do with a wet pussy, don’t you?”

You can guess when he’s about to come from his increasingly loud moans and how he has to hold your shoulder to keep himself upright. When Doyoung finally climaxes, you angle his dick so his cum splashes all over his shirt and suit jacket. You don’t stop stroking him until he whines out loud and nudges your hand away from his overstimulated cock. Some of his cum has dripped on your hand, too, and you wipe that on his pants. Lucky for you—and not so lucky for him—he‘s wearing light gray today.

It takes him a minute to recover from his orgasm, and you watch him with a devious smile as he regains his senses. You’re even more delighted when he looks down and sees the mess he’s made of himself.

“Y/N, my clothes…” You’re already standing up from the desk and pulling your underwear back on, along with your coat and shoes.

“That’s too bad, isn’t it? Gonna stain, too. You’ll have to walk out of here like that, and let’s not forget how you always take the subway on Fridays to save gas money.” Once you’ve tidied yourself back up, you give him another pitiful look. “Well, see you at work on Monday, okay?”

Doyoung can only watch your retreating figure as you walk to the elevator and get on, giving him one last amused wave before disappearing to the ground floor.

Perhaps the wildest part of it all, despite his soiled clothes and the night of work still ahead of him, is that he’d do it all over again if you asked.

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missmorosis · 4 years

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Bad Days

AHH hi everyone! So this was kinda all over the place- also @urmomoness i couldn’t put him in jail. I just couldn’t. Not even for his ponytail crime.

Enjoy another Zuko x Reader! Sorry for doing this to Zuko ahaha- I’m writing like two more Sokka x readers soon to MAYYYBEEE make up for it!! 💖

AHH also! I just reached 40 followers & this is my 200th post :) I love all of you guys, thank you so so so much!! 💖🧡🥺💛💚🥰💗😭✨💜

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k :)

Warnings: None!

Summary: Zuko was having a really bad day until Y/N came along to cheer him up!

Zuko was having a bad day. Scratch that, his day was worse than bad.

To start off his day, he clicked his phone on to check the time. The time “7:49 AM” flashed up at him. He had 41 minutes to get to work, which was enough time since he just had to get in the car by 8:00. It was a thirty-minute drive, and his shift started at 8:30. He got ready, throwing on some clean clothes, brushing his teeth, and combing his hair. He hopped into the car, sticking his hand into his pocket, searching for his keys.

Shoot. He forgot his keys. He ran back into the house, almost tripping over himself, frantically searching for his car keys. He looked under his mail, around the counter, and in every drawer. Where were they…?

On the edge of his vision, he spotted something bright yellow, hidden under some papers. He shuffled them around and sighed. Thank goodness for Y/N. She had attached a neon yellow cat keychain onto his keys. Now slightly smiling at the memory, he ran back to his car, starting his engine. He pulled out of the driveway but frowned.

Why was the engine making that sound? The car sputtered to a stop. Zuko cursed, jumping out of the car to try and see what was wrong. Smoke was blowing out of the front, and Zuko knew that he couldn’t take the car to work anymore. The only choice he had was to go on foot or catch a bus. The coffee shop was 12 miles away, so he decided to go with riding the bus. He Googled the nearest bus stop and went from there. The closest bus stop was 5 minutes away, and the bus was 3 minutes from reaching that stop!

He ran as fast as he could in order to make it in time, rushing past trees and almost tripping over himself a couple of times. Breathing heavily, he plopped onto the bus stop bench as soon as he arrived. The bench was cold, but he didn’t mind. He was just relieved that he made it in time-

What was that…? He squinted at something in the distance and cursed. The bus already left, and it was getting farther every second. Zuko pulled his hair in frustration. WHY. DID. EVERYTHING. SUCK.

Sighing, he started jogging on the sidewalk, heading toward the coffee shop.

“Zuko?” A white car pulled up next to him after a good amount of time jogging. The window rolled down, revealing a smiling Y/N behind the wheel.

“Y/N! Oh thank goodness, can you please drive me to work? I woke up on time, but I couldn’t find my keys and my car broke down, so I had to take the bus, but the bus left witho-” Y/N stopped Zuko from rambling and unlocked the car door.

“Get in, loser,” she said, laughing. Zuko let out a sigh of relief as he got in next to her, closing the car door behind him.

“Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver.” He meant it. Zuko didn’t know what he would do if she wasn’t here right now.

“I know. You owe me some boba later, though.” Zuko rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Please take me to work, I’m going to be late.” Y/N started the engine and drove on course to the coffee shop. As soon as they arrived, Y/N blew Zuko a kiss goodbye as he ran into the shop. The bell jingled as he opened the door, rushing in as fast as he could. He glanced at the clock on the wall and cursed under his breath. He was an hour late.

“Zuko. Why were you late? We couldn’t open on time, since you’re our only worker today. I know we said it was going to be a slow day, but that doesn’t mean you can just show up whenever you want to.” His boss looked stern. Zuko looked at the floor, nervous for what was about to come.

“I’m sorry, my car broke down.”

“You missed one hour of your shift.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Zuko. There are a lot of others who want this job. You aren’t exactly the best at making coffee either.” Zuko bit his lip. He knew what was coming.

“I- I know.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to give your job to someone else. I’ll send your last paycheck to you on Monday.” His heart sank. He was officially fired from his job for being late. He knew that the manager was really picky about their workers, but he didn’t know that being late was enough to get fired.

“I... understand.” He opened the front door of the cafe, unable to look anyone in the eye as he walked out. The bell jingled again behind him when he closed the door, leaving the coffee shop behind. He walked away, biting his lip to stop himself from crying. He was just fired. He had no job. He let that sink it. He was just fired. He had no job.

He looked around to see that Y/N’s car was still in the parking lot, and she was just getting ready to pull out. Zuko ran up (he was getting tired of running) and knocked on her car window. She looked up, giving him a perplexed look, but perhaps looking at the state Zuko was in, her face softened. She reached out to open the car door for him, and he fell in.

They drove for a bit in silence, and Zuko thought about what just happened. What was he going to do…? He had no job, he needed a new source of income. He sighed, causing Y/N to glance at him. She kept driving until they pulled up at a boba shop, and now it was Zuko’s turn to look confused.

“Y/N, what are we doing here?” he asked. Y/N smiled at him.

“Well, I know you already owe me boba, but I decided to treat you since you look like you need it.” Y/N parked her car and got out. Zuko opened and closed the car door, making sure that Y/N locked the car, just in case, before he went on. Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled him with her into the boba shop.

He had never been to this place before, and as he stood in line with Y/N by his side, he saw that the shop was called “The Jasmine Dragon.” Hm, interesting name… Zuko thought the name had a nice ring to it.

When it was his turn to order, he had no idea what to get, but luckily, Y/N had his back. “We’ll take two White Lotus teas, please! One with boba, and one without.” Y/N turned to Zuko and whispered, “I promise you’ll like it! It’s totally your taste. Also, I know you hate boba, so yeah.” She remembered... Zuko’s heart felt warm. Y/N remembered the littlest details about him, and he was lucky to have her.

Together, they sat down at a table for two, waiting for their order. When one of the employees called their order number, Y/N gestured for him to stay seated as she went to get their drinks.

She was taking a lot of time to just pick up drinks… After another minute or so, she came back with two teas in her hands. They were aesthetically pleasing; some foamed milk floating to the top of the translucent drink, a bit of brown sugar falling down from the sides. Zuko almost wanted to “instagram” it, even though he wasn’t even that type of person.

“Come on, try a sip.” Y/N pushed one closer to Zuko. He pulled it to his lips, trying a taste. Oh. Oh wow. It was sweet, but not too sweet. It was light and cold, refreshing his taste buds. The flavor was a perfect balance-

“This… this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” His eyes widened. Was it possible for anything to taste this heavenly?

“I know, right?! It’s SO good! People say it’s the best in the entire city of Ba Sing Se and I agree.” She stuck the straw into her mouth, drinking the tea as if the straw was permanently stuck to her lips.

Together, they walked out of The Jasmine Dragon, drinks still in their hands.

“Oh!” Y/N turned around to face him. “There’s more!” Her eyes twinkled. More..? “I scored an interview on Tuesday for you! I saw that they were hiring, and I knew something happened to your job earlier.” That’s what she was doing…

“Y/N…” His voice trailed off. “Thank you.” He smiled at her, unable to express his gratitude.

“You still owe me boba!” She laughed, getting into the car once more.

Zuko was having a bad day, but when he ran into Y/N, his day got a lot better.

A/N: hopefully this wasn’t too bad! firing zuko was honestly hard but ofc he has a y/n to cheer him up! LOVE YALL!! thank you for reading 🥺💖

again, thank you for 40 followers & 200 posts :)

Writing Masterlist

Taglist! @urmomoness

#zuko x reader #zuko #atla zuko #atla #atla imagine #atla x you #atla x y/n #atla x reader #zuko x y/n #zuko x you #zuko x yn #zuko imagine #zuko one shot #atla oneshot

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elucere · 3 years

Text

Sad Late August Quarantine Thoughts 2.0

Last year, I wrote this. Basically my thoughts on how I felt in my life up to that point and what quarantine had illuminated. It felt cathartic then, so hopefully it’ll feel cathartic now. A part of that probably had to do with the fact that the last part was complete bullshit, but we’ll get into that later.

At nearly the slightest inconvenience now, I’ll say “I’m at my limit”. Technically, that isn’t really true because if I was really at my limit, at the next inconvenience I would completely lose it. But no, I’m just simply reminding myself that while I’m constantly met with a series of unfortunate events, I haven’t broken down yet. I might feel like I’m there, but I’m not. I’m just at my limit. Things are bad, but they aren’t the worst they could be yet. So keep in mind, I am very much at my limit as I’m writing this.

Last year I talked about my struggles with my job. Yeah, I got fired in February. It was not pretty either. I knew I wasn’t doing well performance wise, and they invited me into a zoom call that they said was a project meeting a week before my year anniversary and fired me. My supervisor (or I guess, ex-supervisor) cried on call. I didn’t cry until afterwards. It was an entire year of me trying to get better, him promising that it’ll come with time, and then getting sacked because “we didn’t see improvements”. Really, really fucking sucked. And it messed with me for a long time because I kept replaying those last few weeks, trying to decipher what I could’ve done differently to prove my worth and keep my position. There was a lot. I felt really guilty.

I think the worst part is that I got a performance warning in December and realized at that point I’d become so apathetic about my job that I needed professional help. I’d been trying to go to therapy for a long time, but it never panned out. My mom forbade it when I was in high school, it was practically impossible to get an appointment at my college’s mental health facility unless you were considered a threat to yourself and others (which I most certainly did not want on my record), and after school life happened so fast with the pandemic and the fact that I live in a 2 bedroom apartment with my mom and my brother with very little privacy. Even now that I’ve convinced my mom that therapy is okay, actually, she still highly disproves and sees it as some sort of psychological failing on my part. Which is. Sure. Whatever. Why not.The reason I did not enroll in therapy that December is actually because my dad lost his job and with it, his health insurance, and with that, my health insurance. That means I had to enroll in a health plan through my employment, which became an unanticipatedly long process. I actually got my new-but-useless health insurance card in the mail a few days after I got fired. They actually fired me on the last day of the month, so my benefits wouldn’t extend beyond that month. That’s a bit of fun irony.

To quite a few of my friends, this story solidified the idea that insurance=therapy. As soon as I got insurance again, I’d be able to finally get some help. This was a couple of people’s first response to me when I got hired again (yay, I know I don’t have to worry about that anymore but I’m also afraid that I’ll just inevitably be fired again so I don’t let myself have the victory). I know my friends only want the best for me, and I can’t expect them be able to emotionally support me like a professional, but I’m afraid that they think that therapy will be some sort of magical fix of sorts. I don’t mean in the sense of just getting better mentally, but I think being a tolerable person. I know that sounds like I’m just being self-depreciating, but let me explain.

A few years ago I was at dinner with one of my friends. I don’t remember exactly what we were talking about, but she goes “name three things you actually like” because I was probably being negative or something. I said a few things and whatever, but that comment stuck with me for a long time. I thought it was especially poignant or something. Am I so unhappy all the time because I fixate on things I don’t like? It could be connected to the attitude of social media to be outwardly negative. Casual wisdom, you know.

Well, that was the fact until I was out with that same friend and we visited Barnes and Noble. I’ve been doing quite a bit of reading this year and got more involved in the book community, so I have many Opinions. Some are good, some are bad, some are just me being annoying. After an hour of browsing the shelves, we drive home. I start talking about a series I really like in the car and she goes “It’s nice to hear you talk about a book you actually like.” Which kind of stunned me because I had just did a lot of talking about books I liked. How happy I was that kids were still reading Rangers Apprentice, going out of my way to see how many Brandon Sanderson books I could find in the Adult Fantasy section, and more reminiscing in the Young Adult section about books I liked recently or as a teen. The truth is, I talk about stuff I like all the time to people who will listen. Ask me about my favorite books! My favorite movies! My favorite musicals! I promise I will not shut up. It’s one of the few things I have that lift my spirits when I talk about it, I just don’t get the opportunity to much because it’s hard to find people who want to listen.

The thing is, I’m naturally a critical person, I think. I love tearing things apart, in good and bad ways. I also love gossip. I’m an okay gossip, but I know at this point that I’m a good critic. I’m really good at identifying faults and commenting them on an insightful or constructive way. I edit a lot of my friends’ writings for this reason. I don’t find that to be anything negative, it’s just something that’s interesting to me. Basically what I’m saying is, what if it’s not mental illness and I’m just annoying and I’ll not be able to meet the expectations of other people’s idea of progress for me and I’ll be a disappointment. I’m kind of tearing up while typing that out while listening bopping to Disturbia by Rihanna but this is the third time I’ve been on the verge of crying today so yaknow maybe it is just mental illness.At this point, I can either talk about criticism in relation to the particular way I dish it, or I could talk about how I want to receive it. I think the former will take less time to elaborate, so I’ll start with that.

I mention last year how I got an unpaid gig as a critic for DiscussingFilm. Embarrassing at times, I joke with my friends that “DiscussingFilm Writer” is a slur, but it’s cool at times as well. I got a press pass to go to Sundance and gorged on an entire family sized bag of peanut M&Ms while I watched like 14 movies in one weekend. I’m trying to say positive things about this until I start ragging to prove that I’m not an overwhelmingly negative person, but I don’t think that’s working well. Whatever. The point is, if I didn’t like it I would quit, but if I did quit it wouldn’t be because I didn’t like it. It would because there was an…event. I had quite a falling out with one of the higher-ups that run the site and in response my work has taken a hit. I won’t go into too much detail, but I don’t get assigned anticipated releases anymore. My work is often delayed going out and, in turn, I feel less motivated to turn in my work on time. And then on top of that, it’s rarely promoted. I have examples on top of examples, but this stupid thing is getting long enough. To summarize the DiscussingFilm situation, I feel like shit. I have one of the lowest view counts on the site. I’m told that my work is good and it’s valued, but not enough to get reposted, I guess! Why bother. And also because the person I do not work well with is quite up in the food chain, I’ll never see a promotion. I wanted to become an editor so bad (I do editing on the side for my friends and enjoy it), but now it will never ever happen. I don’t have the opportunity to prove myself, it’s just completely off the table by nature of leadership. Ass. Complete ass. I’m doing quite a bit of work for DiscussingFilm including creating the standard for the Instagram, making graphics for the Instagram, performing interviews and writing reviews for the site, and co-hosting a DiscussingFilm branded podcast, and I will never see neither a dime for my work or recognition in any meaningful or significant way. I don’t have a say in anything, and I feel like an insignificant cog whose opinion does not mean much.

I still get insecure with my reviews, but not as much anyways. Sure, I can’t compare to the great writers at trades who do this for a living and have been doing so for years. But, I am better than a lot of writers at my level. Sometimes I try pitching to other publications, but so far I’ve only been met with rejection. It kinda stings to know that my work is not worth enough to be paid for, but I’m kinda over it. I still pitch. I try my best. That’s the thing about me, I just keep going. Rejection hurts like a bitch, but whatever. I don’t want to quit just yet, so I guess I won’t. There isn’t anyone in my corner who’s actively spurring me to keep going, I’ve just decided that I’ll get paid for my work one day and so now I will.This connects with the criticism I want to receive which unfortunately very much is not of the nonfiction variety. Ew I fucking hate talking about this but I need to get it off my chest.

After I got fired, I was slipping into quite a bit of a depression. I started a podcast at this time with my friend to try and prevent that, but I knew that I probably needed another project. I wasn’t watching movies anymore, DiscussingFilm was not publishing my shit, and all I was doing all day was reading (which I don’t anymore, I’m in a slump and it’s definitely connected to the idea I have in the next sentence). So I had the brilliant idea of “hey, I could do that. I could write a book. I should do it to do it.”You see, this has not been my only attempt at writing a proper book. I tried when I was 13, I tried when I was 15 and into online literate roleplay, I tried when I was 18 by doing NaNoWriMo in college (also, I was actually more depressed then). I also tried to get into a short story class in college that you had to submit a story to get into and didn’t even make it on the waitlist. Nothing stuck. But hey, I was unemployed and I came up with a funny premise that I wasn’t too attached to, so why not?

The book is not funny. It was supposed to, but it’s changed a lot. I’m very comfortable writing in camp. It’s difficult because I know sometimes I have my moments, but often I don’t. I also chose to write it in a genre I’m not super familiar with (Young Adult contemporary, I read Young Adult and Adult fiction primarily). I didn’t expect it to be easy, but the things I thought would come easily did not come easily. I have a lot of male friends, so I could certainly write the male characters as real people, right? Right? I’m funny, so the humor would come across well, right? Did I anticipate that after years of pretty much only analyzing films critically I’d subconsciously structure my story using dialogue-driven storytelling similar to a screenplay? No! Not at all, actually! This journey of self-discovery has been ass at every corner!

I recognize that first drafts are shit and authors hate their writing, but also I’m built different, your honor. By 15k words in, I realized I needed an outside perspective. I hated my own writing and I was afraid none of the characters were coming off right. I needed feedback, and I still do. But I hate being perceived. As long as no one reads my writing, they think that I know what I’m talking about and value my opinion on their writing, but once they figure out I’m just an Imposter then it’s game over. They’ll lose respect for me. Logically, I know this isn’t how this works, but I feel physically nauseous whenever someone reads my writing.

Anyways, back to my much-needed criticism. To make a long story short involving several English teacher that caused me to quit pursuing writing altogether in my formative years and decide to switch to a STEM track, I have very little tangible self-awareness of my own writing and how to improve it. I need the outside feedback, or at least I did. I’m 60k words into my first draft now and I’m cripplingly self aware of all my errors, but it feels too little too late. 60k words are a lot of words, and it feels not great knowing that most of them are trash. I really needed this kind of feedback earlier in the process so I could make tweaks early on. I know that writing is like a muscle and you need to work it out and practice to get stronger, but fuck man, FUCK. 60k words is a LOT of words. And I still need people to read it and give me feedback and I’m literally willingly asking people to read shit. It’s so humiliating. I guess I’m just at a point where I wish I could look at it and find something of value in what I’ve written.

I see other authors and I get so jealous. At their confidence, at their lyricism, their mastery of the art, their enthusiasm for their story, their love of their characters. I don’t have that. I’m not even talking about imposter’s syndrome. I know what that feels like. This is something else. I just wish I was the kind of person who could openly be creative without wanting to die. I’m 100% sure if I could be enthusiastic about the story I want to tell, the entire thing would be better. It’s crazy how I noticed that I’m not writing any metaphors into realizing that’s directly connected with my inability to be vulnerable and that I’m detaching myself from my work. That, and the fact that I’m fucking shite at writing metaphors apparently.

It also doesn’t help that I don’t have a writer group of friends and very little people to talk about this with, none of which are like… enthusiastic. It’s not their fault. I attract people into my life who are very much like me. They’re supportive and wonderful but I need someone who’d be excited to talk to me about it. I just feel like such a huge burden all the time. Everytime I bring it up I feel terrible, but it’s occupying so much of my brain space and I have no outlet. But also, getting that group of friends would require me to be vulnerable online and be willing to share what I have so far which I might actually throw up.I think it’s very fun that “crying and throwing up” has become a saying on Twitter considering that I’ve counted a countless amount of times this year and thrown up from stress four times since last November. It might also be connected to coffee consumption, but if that’s true I’m ready to off myself because coffee is one of my few joys. Honestly, it’s probably a mix of both. I’m very healthy, very much okay.

I don’t know. Last year, I ended my little essay on a hopeful note. Here’s the thing, this may seem like very much just stream of consciousness bullshit but there is quite a bit of structuring I do and omissions I make. I didn’t talk about my struggles reconnecting with people and subsequently taking their irregular replies, because there’s a lot to get into there. There’s a lot I could’ve talked about, but no room. There’s a very specific flow, and I feel like any story, it needs a conclusion. So last year, through tears, I wrote a hopeful ending. It was as much for me as it was to the people reading it. Unfortunately, I don’t have it in it for me to conclude in the same fashion this time around.

The truth is, I need to feel okay. I need to feel like I’m good at something, anything, and be recognized for it.

Life is suffering and I’m just constantly going through the motions. I promise you, this stupid thing is 3k words and the second I’m done I’ll go back to working on my b**k even though today I literally started crying thinking about how shit it is. I’m just a tenacious individual. I persist. I don’t feel good about it, and I’m done with being genuinely hopeful, but there’s nothing to do but keep moving. I don’t know if my writing will get better or if I’ll ever get published or if this story is worth it. I don’t fucking know anything and I feel like shit. But what else am I going to do? I’ve been holding onto this hope that I’ll feel better about things for just so long and it hasn’t happened. But I’m not giving up lmao I’m just working with what I have. I am at my limit.

#mine #bean spews

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poeticandors · 4 years

Text

Cut to the Feeling Part 2

Poe Dameron x F!Reader (Babysitter! AU)

Summary: After graduating college and needing to have some cash in order to survive while doing an unpaid internship, Y/N decides to take up a babysitting/caretaking job. Little does she know that she ends up working for a familiar face.

Warnings: Only mentions of smut I guess, nothing else

A/N: Thanks for all the love for this fic! Hopefully you all continue to enjoy this! This chapter is a bit long i am so sorry.

Part 1

GIF belongs to @fernandabarrera

Earlier

Poe watches you rush out the door, a sense of slight regret. He hates the thought of you walking alone, he would have loved to offer you a ride back to the bar to retrieve your car. Under different circumstances, he would have.

Poe wasn’t one to engage in one night stands like this. When he saw you drinking alone at the bar, it wasn’t his first intention to take you and have you ride him in the backseat of your car. Nor was it his intention to take you back to his house and continue your hot, sensual escapade and practically kick you out in the morning.

No. Poe wasn’t like that at all. Hell, the last time he even had sex was before… well, before his daughter was born.

But after a long stressful day at work— on a whim— he decided to ask his dad to continue to watch his daughter over night while he got a drink at the bar. Well… a few drinks.

While he doesn’t regret the sex at all, he does regret that he didn’t get your information at all. Did you even tell him your name? Did he even tell you his?

He really wished he did get your information because when he was talking to you, it felt as if he could talk to you for hours. You were hilarious, sweet, and Poe hadn’t met someone he actually loved to be around in so long.

Being in law school, participating in an internship in one of the best law firms, and taking care of a baby— it can really kill someone’s social battery.

He was lucky enough to still live with his dad at the time, who was a big help in raising his daughter, Eva Bey. There were some tough nights, but when Poe needed to study or had late nights at the office, his dad would always be there to take care of her. Poe was very grateful for his help— without him, he wasn’t sure if he would have gotten this far.

But since then, Poe managed to get a position with the law firm he was interning for. The only problem was that he had to move into the city, which meant leaving his dad behind. While he was still able to go visit his dad every now and then, he wasn’t going to be able to leave Eva Bey with him every day— which was why he decided to put an ad out for a caretaker.

This would make things a lot easier: he wouldn’t have to drive at least an hour every night to go pick up Eva Bey, and he wouldn’t have to worry about picking her up from school every afternoon.

Poe checks his phone, cursing to himself at the time. He was supposed to have an interview soon and he still needed to pick up Eva Bey from his father’s. As he grabs his keys he thinks back to you hoping that you’re okay and that maybe there is a chance he could meet you again.

++++++

“Thanks again, dad,” Poe says as he grabs the small pink bag. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course, how could I turn down some quality time with my favorite granddaughter,” he chuckles, patting his back.

“I’m your only granddaughter Papa Kes!” Eva Bey furrows her brows.

Kes chuckles, bending down to pick the small girl up. “And you’re my favorite.”

Eva Bey gives him a toothy grin, before hugging him tightly.

“You be good for your daddy, okay?” He kisses her cheek. “And I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay!”

Kes sets down Eva Bey, and she looks up at Poe, who kneels down in front of her.

“Why don’t you take your bag to the car,” he smiles, handing her the backpack. “I’ll be right there.”

“Okay, daddy.”

Poe stands up, watching his daughter hurry to his car before turning back to face his dad.

“So, you said you had an interview set up?”

“Yeah, I should be there to meet her by the time we make it back. Thanks again.”

“Of course, I’m going to miss seeing you guys every day,” he chuckles.

“You’ll still see us, don’t worry.”

Poe gives his dad a quick hug as a goodbye, making his way to the car. He helps buckle in Eva Bey into her booster seat, before he gets in the front seat.

“Did you have a good time with Papa Kes?” Poe looks in the mirror, as he backs out.

“Yeah! We had Mac and cheese for dinner, and we watched Princess and the Frog!”

“That’s good, baby. I’m glad you had a good time,” he smiles.

“Daddy, will I still get to see Papa Kes?”

“Of course you will, baby. Just… it won’t be every day like we used to.”

“How come?”

“Well, daddy has a new job, remember? And we had to move pretty far. There would be a lot of driving. But, daddy is going to meet someone today and they might be able to pick you up after school when I can’t.”

“Is it a man or a lady?” She asks, swinging her feet.

“A lady.”

“Is she pretty?”

Poe chuckles. “Well, I’m not sure. I haven’t seen her yet.”

Eva Bey seems to accept the answer— or is just tired of the conversation— and pulls out her tablet. Poe smiles, and continues the drive home.

++++++

“Okay, why don’t you go put your stuff away. The caretaker will be here soon to meet us.”

“Okay, Daddy!” She takes her backpack, and skips off down the hallway.

Poe smiles, setting his keys down as he looks around the living room. He spots a few of Eva Bey’s toys on the floor— a small plush giraffe, a soccer ball, and a few of her blocks. He sighs, making his way over to pick up the toys she left lying around yesterday morning.

He also sees a few of the couch pillows on the floor, and he is suddenly brought back to last night— how you tasted, how you pulled his hair when he made you cum, and how you even offered to return the favor, giving him an IOU.

Poe smirks. He wonders what you are up to at this moment. If he had your number, he probably would have texted you at this moment. Were you thinking of him like how he was thinking of you?

Just as he finishes tidying up the living room, he hears the doorbell ring. Perfect timing, he thinks. He straightens his shirt, and gives one last look over for the room before he heads to the door.

He puts on a friendly smile, and as he starts to greet the person he was supposed to be interviewing, he instead comes face to face with you.

You.

You who he had just departed from hours ago. Who had stayed the night after being tangled in each other’s limbs, pleasuring each other for hours. You who he was just thinking about seconds before he opened the door.

His smile drops, and he seems to mimic your expression as you stare wide eyed at him. It takes a moment, but then you both finally seem to find words as you speak at the same time.

“...Are you Mr. Dameron—“

“—You’re Miss Y/L/N?”

You both seem to catch each other off guard. There you both stand, silent and baffled, until he feels a pair of arms wrap around his leg.

Poe looks down, and sees Eva Bey peeking out from behind his legs. He automatically pushes her hair back and gives her a reassuring smile, letting her know that she’s safe and that he’s there. She looks up at him, and he wishes he knew what she was thinking in that moment as he looks deep into her dark eyes.

When he looks back to you, he’s conflicted. Sure, he was just thinking about you, but he didn’t know that it was, well… you that he was going to be interviewing. Would it be wrong to turn you away just because he happened to sleep with you last night?

Poe watches your gaze fall down, and you give his daughter a friendly smile before kneeling down and giving her a small wave as you tell her your name. He doesn’t know why, but that small gesture softens his heart. Eva Bey stays behind him, though peeking out a little more. In that moment, Poe makes his decision, and clears his throat.

“Um… come on in.”

++++++

This was not happening.

Your mind races, you couldn’t be awake, right? You were still in bed with him, waiting for your alarm to go off. This was a dream— no, it was a nightmare.

Wake up, wake up, wake up.

There was no way you were really here after waking up and leaving him just to end up back here for your interview. You had to be asleep still. That’s why you were still picturing him, and imagining his living room... in perfect detail with daylight.

With other added details.

The entire house— or at least the front room— screamed that he was a family man. How did you not notice the toys in the pink bin on the other side of the living room this morning? Or the framed photographs of him with his daughter on the wall?

Oh, right.

Because after you spent most of the night writhing underneath his mouth as he brought you to that euphoric bliss, you were too dazed to even think of anything else. Even this morning, you were more worried about getting your clothes and rushing to get to your interview then checking your surroundings.

Shit, shit, shit.

There was no way you were about to get interviewed by the guy you just happened to fuck last night. Was this going to affect everything? What if he looked past all your credentials and thought you were someone who was careless and not fit enough to take care of his daughter anyways? Or… what if he expected more?

Your stomach sits uneasy. The thought of that being the whole reason to hire you really terrifies you. But you really needed this job.

You were so sure that you would get it based off of your qualifications that you didn’t even think of searching for another. What were the chances that you just happened to sleep with the man who had the choice of hiring you?

You were surprised he didn’t automatically turn you away when he saw you. But also grateful. Maybe he was willing to look past everything that happened and give you a decent, fair chance?

When you see the look on his face as he walks back in the room, your hopes seem to dwindle down to a trickle.

Poe Dameron— as you’ve now come to know him— sits across from you in an armchair, staring at you. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he visibly tries to form some sort of a coherent sentence.

The silence, despite the ticking of the clock hanging on the wall, is achingly painful. You debate just hightailing out of there, saving you both the trouble. He would probably appreciate it; that would mean less awkward work he would have to do.

Finally, and to your confusion, he lets out a dry chuckle.

“What are the chances?”

“...S-Sorry?”

He sits back in his chair, an amused smile on his face. “I mean, out of everyone in that bar, everyone, I happened to talk to the one that I had an interview with.”

You’re not really sure how to respond. Was he really trying to joke at a time like this?

He must’ve read the expression on your face, because soon after his smile drops.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean— I only meant… this is such a wild coincidence, is what I’m trying to say.”

“Oh, no— I mean, yes. You’re right, it is a wild coincidence.”

He seems relieved, and visibly relaxes. “Okay—“

“Before you say anything, I just…” you interrupt, breathing out nervously. “I have to tell you that I don’t expect you to hire me after what happened last night. I wouldn’t blame you for just kicking me out right away. But… I really need this job. And I’m not just saying that, I really, really need this job. I’m doing this unpaid internship at this clinic and well, I didn’t really plan for a backup and...”

You quickly pull out your references and resume out of your purse, setting it on the table.

“I’m really good with kids. Like, really good. I babysat all my cousins and I was the go-to babysitter in the neighborhood. And I’m working on becoming a speech therapist, to help out kids with their speech and communication.”

You watch as Poe slowly reaches forward, looking over your information. Although you should probably stop talking and instead let him read over, you can’t help yourself.

“I’m also CPR and First Aid certified, so… oh! And I’ve never had a driving ticket and I just…”

Poe glances up at you and you feel like sinking into the couch.

“I really need this job. And I just… I hope that we can look past what happened last night. I mean, I did have a great time, don’t get me wrong, but…”

You trail off, realizing what you said and mentally curse at yourself. Poe doesn’t seem affected by the comment as he looks up from the papers, setting them down.

He studies you for a moment, and you wonder if this is what having heart palpitations feels like. All you can do is wonder what is going through his mind, hoping that he takes all that you’ve said into consideration. Finally, he goes to speak.

“Do you know how to make Mac and cheese?”

You blink. And blink again. And then once more.

“...Mac and Cheese?”

“Yeah, it’s my daughter’s favorite.”

He had to be joking, right?

“...Yes, I can make it. And other foods.”

He nods, and then stands up. “How about I show you around?”

“Wait…” you quickly stand up. “Seriously?”

Poe shrugs. “Gives me time to think things over. Come on.”

Poe begins heading out of the living room, and you can only follow behind him, slightly confused. Were you going to question him? No.

“That there is the kitchen, the fridge is always stocked so you wouldn’t have to worry about it. If there is anything specific you need just let me know.”

“Oh, okay…”

He walks down the hallway, and you take note of more pictures— actual photographs and hand drawn ones— of Poe, his daughter, and some including another man, probably a relative.

“This is the bathroom, and the room across from it is my office. You probably won’t have to go in there anyways.”

You simply nod. Why was he telling you all of this?

He points to another door. “My bedroom. Though I have a feeling you might have already known that.”

He turns back to you, seeing you giving him an unamused look.

“...Sorry, bad joke.”

“It’s… fine.”

He only walks across to the other door. “And this is Eva Bey’s room.”

He opens the door, and you look inside to see the small bedroom. The furniture was white, and the bed in the corner had purple bed sheets, with a few stuffed animals laid up against the pillows. You also noticed another bin filled with a few other toys.

On the other end of the room was a small table, where His daughter— Eva Bey— sat coloring a picture. She looks up, smiling at her father. You noticed she had similar features: the same dark, curly hair, deep brown eyes, and even the same lips.

“Hi, daddy.”

“Hey, baby. I was just showing Miss Y/F/N around.”

She looks up at you, and suddenly looks back down to her picture. Poe chuckles softly.

“She’s shy, not used to seeing a lot of new people.”

“I get that—“

Poe’s phone begins to ring and he quickly pulls it out, cursing silently.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this. Work. You’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” you nod, and he hesitates before quickly walking to his bedroom.

You stand at the doorway, glancing back to Eva Bey. She must’ve been looking up at you because she is fast to look back down at her paper. You can’t help but smile, and make your way over to the table. She doesn’t look up right away, and you kneel next to her.

“So, Eva—“

“My name is Eva Bey.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry,” you set your bag down. “Eva Bey, is it alright if I sit and watch you color?”

She shrugs, reaching for the green crayon as you take a seat in the small red chair across from her. You take a look at the picture she is working on.

“Is that you and your dad?”

“Mmhm,” she nods, working on a few small green blobs you make out to be bushes.

“I saw your other pictures, you’re really good at drawing.”

“...Thank you.”

You breathe out softly, smiling as she finally looks up at you.

“I like your hair,” she says.

“Thank you. I like yours, too. It’s very pretty. And so is your name.”

She straightens up. “Are you going to be watching me when my daddy is working?”

“Well… I hope so. But it’s up to your daddy.”

She seems to be satisfied with that answer, and puts down the crayon in her hand.

“Do you know how to draw a puppy?”

“Oh, um… kind of.”

She slides the paper over to you. “Can you draw one for me please?”

“Sure,” you turn the paper over. “What color do you want the puppy to be?”

“Orange and white! Like those little ones, um… I forgot what they are called.”

“I think I know which ones you’re talking about,” you smile. “Here, I can show you how I like to draw my dogs and then you can learn how to do so.”

She scoots closer, watching as you begin to draw a small puppy.

“Do you have a puppy?” She asks and you shake your head.

“No, but when I was your age I used to have one. The building I live in doesn’t allow pets,” you take the orange crayon. “Do you have any pets?”

“No,” she sighs. “But I really want a puppy. My daddy says we can’t have one yet, and that’s it’s a lot of re… um… I can’t remember the word.”

“Responsibility?” You look down at her and she nods quickly. “Well, your daddy is right. Taking care of animals is a big responsibility. But I’m sure someday you’ll be able to get a puppy.”

She smiles and you put the finishing touches on the puppy, before handing her the paper.

“What do you think?”

“I love it! Thank you!”

You laugh softly, before seeing Eva Bey look behind you to the door and rushing over.

“Daddy, look! Miss Y/F/N helped me with a puppy!”

Poe picks up Eva Bey, taking a look at the picture. “Wow, that’s a good picture.” He nods, before turning to you.

You stand up, grabbing your purse as Poe sets Eva Bey down.

“How about you hang that up on the fridge, okay? I’ll walk Miss Y/F/N out.”

“Okay! Bye Miss Y/F/N!”

“Bye, Eva Bey,” you smile, watching as she runs out the door:

Poe turns to you, before stepping out of your way to walk back to the front door. He doesn’t say anything right away, and that has you becoming anxious. This is where he tells you he can’t hire you, right? Because you guys just so happened to have a one night stand with each other?

“She seems to like you,” he finally says, and you glance over at him.

“Oh… well, she’s a very sweet girl.”

“She is,” he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

You grip the strap of your purse. Had he come up with his decision? Was he going to hire you? Or was he just going to let you down easy.

He finally sighs. “So, listen… I know last night happened, and… well, this is happening now. But…”

It didn’t occur to you that you were holding your breath until he steps towards you.

“What happened last night can’t happen again. If I hire you, we just… go on like nothing occurred between us before this, okay? We have to be professional.”

“Of course!” You breathe out. “I totally understand, extremely professional, and that won’t happen again I can assure you that.”

“Great,” Poe nods. “So I’ll just give you my card. You can reach me at my cell anytime. Would you be okay with starting Monday?”

“Yes, Monday definitely works,” you take the card, fingers brushing just barely against his.

“Perfect. I’ll send you the address of her school and let them know you’ll be picking her up from now on. She gets out each day at one, so just try to be there before then.”

“Of course, I definitely will,” you nod, shaking his hand. “Thank you so much Mr. Dameron.”

“You can call me Poe, I don’t mind.”

“Right, Poe…” you slowly pull your hand away. “I’ll just… thank you again for this, I won’t let you down.”

“I have a feeling you won’t,” he gives a genuine, friendly smile. “See you Monday?”

“Yes, Monday.”

He opens the door for you, giving a slight wave as you walk back to your car. You really couldn’t believe it, he was really willing to give you a chance despite what happened.

As you get into your car, you breathe out in relief, relaxing against your seat. But then you’re suddenly brought back to the feelings you had earlier, before you found out that Poe was the one you slept with.

It was a little dejecting, you were beginning to feel something towards the man you slept with and hoped to find him again. Now that you did, you realized that you had to push those feelings down. Deep down.

That wouldn’t be so hard, right?

++++++

TAGLIST: @starkrobb

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron fic #poe dameron x you #poe x reader #babysitter au

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jamielea81 · 5 years

Text

Just a Simple Lie

Chapter 9

Description: Having worked on small independent films for the better part of a decade, your friend tells you about an opening for a script supervisor with a large studio. Wanting to advance your career, you apply and get an interview. The only downside, they prefer to hire crew who are married. It’s just a simple lie, right?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, pining, fluff

A/N: This is NOT the final chapter. There is one more after this one. Per the usual: this fic is simply for fun. I know nothing about the personal lives of the two actors in this series and mean no harm. I am also totally guessing regarding the studio talk. Comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome.

Word Count: 3,932

Catch up with Chapter 8

“What’s going on with you?” Monica asked.

“Nothing.”

She’s asked you this question for the better part of a month. Not Yours only had a couple of weeks left to shoot, but filming had seemed to drag on despite it it’s short two month schedule.

“Are you still down about Travis?”

Okay, yes, you were still lying. Kind of. After the night of the wrap party where Chris Evans walked out of your life, you took the ring off and put it back into your jewelry box saying a prayer of sorry to your grandmother for wearing her ring. Surprisingly no one brought it or Travis up except for Monica. You kept it vague. Said he wasn’t right for you and the two of you were friends. All of which was true and she didn’t press. Except for when she asked what was wrong.

“Travis and I are friends. And I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine. You’ve just been down this whole shoot.”

“Have I not been getting the job done? Have I dropped the ball in anyway?” you asked, nose buried in your copy of the script.

“Duuuuude,” she said bumping you.

“Fine,” you tossed your script on to your desk and gave her your full attention. “I’m just tired. Honestly. Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Maybe your pregnant.”

“You’d have to be having sex to be pregnant, Monica.”

“Maybe you’re like three months pregnant and don’t know it,” she said with a smug grin. She was pulling your chain per the usual.

You gave her a smile that verged on a laugh. “You suck.”

“Maybe so. But you still love me,” she replied.

And you did. The two of you had become extremely close on this shoot. Probably because it was being completely shot on the lot with teenagers and people in their early twenties who liked to go out to clubs. Most of the crew were in their thirties so you stuck together. It was for the best. Look where being besties with Chris got you.

You tried. Honest to goodness tried. The morning after the wrap party you called him with your hands shaking the whole time only to be dumped in his voicemail. You texted him about twelve times that first week and didn’t receive a response. Two weeks later he responded.

Chris: Maybe it’s best we just don’t speak.

Getting that message shot a pain through your heart you didn’t think was possible. Twenty minutes later he messaged again.

Chris: I can’t be with someone who isn’t honest with me. Any type of relationship is built on communication and honesty.

He was right. While he was busy falling for you, you were pretending to be engaged.

Y/N: You’re right. It’s something I’ll always regret but I’ll accept your request. I won’t contact you again.

There was no use pouring your heart out to him again. You had already done so a few times in voicemails and text messages. If anything, you were mad at yourself. Mad for not telling him when the two of you had first gotten close. And again, when you were sick and staying in his rental. Or the numerous times the two of you hung out after filming was complete for the day. You were so ready to let him go after the wrap party until he told you he was crazy about you. Of course, you were crazy about him too, but you had locked that away.

“I’m just having a problem with a friend. I wasn’t honest about something and now we aren’t speaking,” you told her with a shrug.

“If they’re a good friend they’ll eventually come around.”

“I hope so.”

“She’s unbearable,” Ian said, running a hand through his hair making it stand on end. “Can you please just stay with us? Or maybe, um. Maybe you can convince her she’s not working enough?” You chuckled at your crazed friend. “The people at Sony must have professionals on staff that can manage her. I just... I just can’t anymore. Not to mention I haven’t put together any of the furniture in the nursery. Haven’t washed any of the clothing or bedding. There just isn’t time.”

He bent over the sink, hands resting on the polished stone on either side, breathing deeply. You clicked the pulse button on the blender giving it another minute to come together. Ian had come into the room with his mouth moving when you were in the middle of blending the pink concoction making you pause. You released the button, walking past Ian’s arched back to grab glass from the cupboard. Walking past him once more, you took off the cover and poured the fruit and spinach filled smoothie into the glass.

Joanna was on the couch, her legs reclined on the empty seats with her tablet in hand.

“Here you go my dear. I’m taking your hubby out for a beer.”

She rested the tablet on her large belly and smiled. “Thank you. He’s driving me up the wall.”

You kissed the top of her head. “I’ve got you.”

Travis and Gemma were seated at a four top sitting opposite of each other when you and Ian walked in.

“Oh look, Gem! It’s my lovely bride,” Travis nearly shouted as you took a seat next to him.

Flicking him on the arm, he flinched but kissed your cheek. “Are we ever getting over that?” you whined.

“Never,” he whispered.

“I still can’t believe you assholes never told me,” Gemma replied.

“Ye-ah. It wasn’t my most shining moment and I’d like to forget it. He’s all yours,” you tease, raising your eyebrows up and down.

“Been there. Done that,” she replied.

“Hey! I’m right here!” Travis interjected.

You put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer to you. “You’re so pretty.”

“Brat,” he replied.

“I just want a beer,” Ian said, his head resting on the table top.

Travis sprung out of his seat and made his way to the bar to grab Ian his beer because waiting for the server to arrive was just too many minutes wasted.

“So, you’re really done?” Gemma asked, mouth immediately going back to the straw in her glass. Some sort of mojito you thought.

“Mhm. It was for the best. The whole lying thing just was too much.”

During the last week of filming for Not Yours, you gave your notice. You kept it simple that you had some family things going on so you couldn’t commit for the next film. Barbara Floyd, the head of production told you that you had a standing offer there whenever you were ready. It was nice having steady income and influx of films being shot, but you couldn’t continue to work for an employer like that.

Travis returned with three pints, passing one to Ian and yourself.

“Thanks, Trav,” you grinned.

Ian chugged the glass of beer half way down before turning to look at Travis. “Yeah, thank you.” The server stopped by at that moment to check on the table. “One more please.” You chuckled softly causing Ian to look at you. “Anyone else?”

“No, we’re good,” you chuckled again.

“What’s next then?” Gemma continued.

“A low budget, independent. But it’s not a student film. I’ve officially retired from those.”

“Have you official retired from bartending?” Travis asked, knocking an elbow into your side.

“Probably not. It will be my go-to between jobs, probably until I retire.”

The drive to Studio City during rush hour was torture. But truly, it was always rush hour in LA. You really couldn’t complain as the film was being entirely shot in Los Angeles. As much as you did like to visit a new location, sometimes you just wanted your own bed.

With a few worthless honks and a hand gesture you would deny later, you found yourself parked and walking with Jonathan to the shared space amongst the production crew. Jonathan was executive producer and welcoming party for the cast and crew of currently titled, Untitled. Hopefully it would be named before filming wrapped. Being that it was an independent and rather short on funds from what you could tell, you were the sole script supervisor.

“And this is your desk!”

You gave Jonathan the politest smile you could muster. “Perfect.”

It really wasn’t. While your “office” in Vancouver was a cubical, it was modern and new. You didn’t even have walls. It was a small table about the width of two cookie sheets. Spaced on either side of you with about thee feet apart were two other tables for other production crew. At least you figured.

“Great. We are firing on all cylinders today with a table read this afternoon. We hope to start filming tomorrow,” Jonathan added.

“I’ll be ready.”

“That’s what I like to hear. I’m just down the hall if you need me. You have my number?”

“Yep. I should be set, but we’ll know more after the read through.”

Jonathan clapped his hands together, spun around and headed down the tight hallway, presumably to his own table. Maybe it was an office. An executive producer at the very least should have a cubical.

A large banquet table was set up in the middle of sound stage B with more than a dozen chairs for the cast around it. A row of chairs for the producers, the screen writer, director, assistant director, yourself, and a few others circled around the outside. You were a few minutes early per the usual, chatting with the small crew you had just been introduced to. You were getting aquatinted with Simone, the assistant director that was seated to your left when the cast started to trickle in. If you were being honest, you hadn’t looked in to any of the actors that were cast. You had taken on the job last minute when the previous script supervisor had backed out. It was less than a week to prepare, so you spent that time reading through the script a few times and rescuing Joanna and Ian from each other.

Simone had just given you a run down of all the films she had worked on as the two of you compared friends and colleagues in common when you felt someone lightly squeeze your knee. The offending knee groper walked on as your eyes trailed up to see Scott Evans make his way to a chair on the other side of the table. He sent you a wink and you audible gasped.

Fuck. This is going to be weird.

Really, it was only you that was being weird. Scott had squeezed your knee and gave you a friendly wink. But still. Had you known he was going to be in this film, you would have passed on the project. The last thing you wanted to do was make it awkward for him or his brother.

With the reading finished, you briefly addressed the actors letting them know where your desk was located and to come to you with any questions. When no one said anything, you gave a smile and quickly made your escape. Chris didn’t want to speak to you anymore. He made that perfectly clear. Keeping Scott at arms-length would be respecting that.

Scott didn’t film the first week of shooting. It helped ease your nervous stomach knowing you wouldn’t run into him on set or have to provide notes after a scene was shot. You knew he’d be filming the next week, but at least you had the weekend to freak out and hopefully you could just deal with it on Monday.

Cleaning up your table slash desk for the weekend took all but five seconds. Since it wasn’t an enclosed space, you left all personal items including Mr. Fern at home. He was blossoming much to your surprise.

“Hey Y/N.”

You knew that voice. There was no mistaking it. You looked up from your bag you were currently stuffing with your laptop to see Scott in front of you.

“Uh…”

Say something! Anything!

“Hey there Scott. How’s it goin’?”

Yep. You were talented at the art of speaking.

Scott chuckled softly, pulling up a chair from the empty table next to you. “Relax. I come in peace.” You took a shuddered breath. “I’m happy to see you on set. You come with high praise not only from my brother, but from other people you’ve worked with.”

“I doubt that. Your brother is not exactly my biggest fan.”

“I meant work wise sweetie. He can’t deny that.”

You shrugged a shoulder. “Honestly, I didn’t know you were in this film. I took the job when someone dropped out. I’m not like stalking you or trying to get to your brother.” Your bottom lip going between your teeth as soon as you finished your thought.

Scott chuckled again. Shook his head and propped it between his hands, resting his elbows on your table. “You’re cute.”

“Well, I just…I just don’t want to give you the wrong impression is all.”

“You’re not. I never thought that,” he sighed, smile dropping for a second. “Chris is thick headed. I don’t even care if you repeat that. While I think it sucks you lied, I think it sucks that a company also operates like that,” he said.

“Well, maybe they were right.” Scott lifts an eyebrow at this. “What I mean is, Chris and me did get close. Too close.”

Scott sits up straight, hands going to his knees. “But that’s not always the case. Sometimes people are going to fall for each other whether it’s frowned up or not. Listen. My brother has been pretty grumpy for the last couple of months. I was frankly happy that filming started this week because I needed a break from him. He’ll come around. Don’t give up on this.”

You nodded and stood up from your seat. “Walk me out?”

“You got it.”

Despite what Scott had said, you weren’t too sure. Yes, you kissed him and boy, was that quite the kiss. But he didn’t know how you felt. You never got to say the words. And he made it perfectly clear that the two of you shouldn’t speak to each other.

After a month and a half of filming, you were officially on vacation. Well, not really. You just didn’t have another film lined up at the moment. Scott had been nothing but a peach during the shoot. He was as sweet as pie and kept you quite entertained. You weren’t quite sure if you were happy or disappointed that Chris never came to visit Scott on set. In all honesty, you probably would have shutdown and hid, so it was probably for the best that he didn’t. You didn’t pry, but Scott had offered up that Chris had been in Boston, so it made sense he wasn’t around.

You were back to bartending part time. It was something to do with your free time and it was nice to have extra cash in your pocket. Thankfully, you were a saver and lived in a one-bedroom rental, so you could afford to take a few months off.

In your free time you were with your friends. Joanna’s mood swings had subsided and Ian didn’t call you for backup as much as he had been. You didn’t necessarily think she had mood swings. She had a rough few months with bouts of sickness and her emotions were running high. But it was nice to be able to go to her house and have fun like you used to.

“Trav, could you pass me the popcorn?”

He shook his head no, holding the bowl against his chest. “You and Gem are just going to eat it all and not share. I know you two.”

“Wow... I am hurt.”

“No you’re not,” he chuckled.

“I promise to make more after we all finish this bowl.”

“No, you won’t,” Gemma whispered beside you.

You knocked her with your elbow and shushed her quietly. Travis stood and passed you the bowl.

“I’ll go make my own,” he muttered before walking to the kitchen.

You let out a loud laugh, taking a large handful of popcorn and shoving it in your mouth.

Jana laid on the couch across from you with her feet in Ian’s lap. He was rubbing them with a peaceful look on his face while Jana smiled at him. They were happy and that’s all you wanted. You hoped that someday you’d find your person.

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table in front of you. Reaching for a napkin, you wiped the butter off your hands before picking it up.

Scott: Whatcha doin’?

Y/N: At my friend’s house. I work tonight.

Scott: That bites. You work all week?

Y/N: Tonight, tomorrow, and Friday. What are you up to?

Scott: Being lazy. Thinking about a solo dance party.

You smiled at his text.

Y/N: I could really go for one of those.

Y/N: Are you going to be in town for a while?

Scott: A couple of weeks at least.

Y/N: Want to grab lunch next week?

Scott: Sounds good angel. Let me know when.

Y/N: Will do. Have fun with your dance party.

Tuesdays were generally quiet, but people seemed to tip better. You weren’t sure if it was because patrons knew your tips would be few and far between or if the Tuesday crowd was just generous.

You had a tall can of energy drink behind the bar that you snuck sips from as the night went on. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but staying up until three in the morning on the nights you worked wasn’t easy. Making it to midnight was no problem, but after that, you were dead on your feet. It was only eight and you were already dragging. Grabbing the can, you brought it to your lips taking a pull.

“Those things will kill you.”

You put the can down and spun around to face the bar top. Your stomach dropped as you gripped the edge of the counter to keep yourself standing.

“Chris,” you whispered.

“Hey,” he said softly, pulling his black ballcap low on his face.

“Uh, hi?”

What the fuck is he doing here?

“Can I get a beer?” he asked. You stared blankly at him as he took a seat in the stool directly in front of you. “Whatever IPA you have on tap.”

You couldn’t move. Chris was here and speaking to you as if this was an everyday occurrence.

“Sweetheart?”

“Uhhh. IPA?” you asked, somehow getting your voice back.

Chris nodded his head. He interlaced his fingers and rested his hands on the bar. You walked to the far side of the bar to give yourself a minute to breathe. It didn’t matter than there were two IPAs on tap two feet from where he sat, the taps on the far end is where you went. You filled the glass and gave yourself an extra ten seconds to calm down. This was Chris. Your friend Chris who you were crazy about and he was crazy about you. At least he once was. You on the other hand were still crazy about him. You could deal with him in your bar for fifteen minutes or however long it takes him to finish his drink.

You walked back the length of the bar, grabbing a coaster and setting both in front of him.

“What are you doing here, Chris?”

He took a quick sip, licking the foam from his lips before setting the glass back down. “Straight to the point. I can deal with that. Uh, Scott told me you worked here.”

Scott. You internally rolled your eyes.

“That’s why he asked about my work schedule yesterday.”

Chris cringed a little bit, shrugging both shoulders. “I asked him to. I should have just called you, but I wasn’t sure if you would have picked up for me.”

This time you actually rolled your eyes. “I would have taken your call. You’re the one that doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.” It came out way harsher than you meant it to. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” You shook your head, placing your elbows on the bar top and leaned in. “I thought about what I’d say if I saw you again and that wasn’t it. What I meant is I’m sorry. When you and I became friends, I should have told you what was going on, but I was scared. It seemed like such an innocent lie in the beginning but it kept getting bigger. I trusted you, but when it came down to it, I didn’t honor that trust and I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

Chris visible relaxed, his back hunching as he rested his forearms on the bar. “Sweetheart,” he started. “This isn’t all on you. I get why you didn’t want to tell me and while I wish you would have, I can’t hold that against you. I was hurt. Once we started hanging out, I started to fall for you even though I knew I shouldn’t. It was hard, so hard to hold back and respect the relationship I thought you had. So, it hurt when I found out it wasn’t real. But I shouldn’t have pushed you away that I had. I wish I hadn’t sent you that text message after ignoring you for weeks. So, what I’m trying to say is I’m sorry too. I’d like for us to be friends again.”

Friends. Not exactly what you hoped for, but you’d take Chris back in your life anyway you could get him.

“I would like that,” you said, offering him a small smile. “I’ll be right back.”

A couple had come in and taken a seat at table. You walked over, grabbing their drink orders before returning to the bar. It was probably the quickest margarita over ice and whiskey coke you’ve ever made, but you were walking on air at the moment. Chris wanted to be friends again.

Chris had apparently chugged his beer in the few minutes you were gone. You guessed he was just as nervous as you were about this conversation. “One more?” you asked, coming to stand in front of him again.

“Please.”

This time you went to the taps closest to him. You filled a new glass and stuck his old in the dishwasher.

“How long are you in town?” you asked.

“Just a couple of weeks. I actually wanted to talk to you about that.” You leaned on your forearms as you waited for him to continue. “I start shooting a new movie in a few months. I’m directing again.”

Your face lit up at his news. “That’s great Chris. Are you starring too?”

He took a sip from the glass and nodded his head. “I am. Which is the problem.” You crinkled your brow and quirked your mouth to the side. “See, if I’m directing, it’s kind of hard for me to give myself notes and keep me in line.”

“Yeah, you are a tough one to work with,” you sassed.

Chris smiled, letting his eyes go soft. “So, I need a good script supervisor. Any chance you know of one that doesn’t currently have a new film lined up?”

You smiled brightly before giving him an intense stare. “It’s not in Canada in the winter is it?”

“Nah. New England in the fall. What do you say, Y/N?”

You drummed your hands on the bar. “I’ll take it.”

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talpup · 4 years

Text

Summary: The war between the Dragons and Griffons ended 233 years ago, and both races right along with it.

Or so it was believed. There are three individuals that will soon change that.

Kai is the last of the Dragons and he seeks to take what he sees as his rightful place and rule over all of Oblvi. Meanwhile, Shouta, the last Sphinx, wants nothing more than to do his job; keep the peace and and teach the young Fourth’s to hopefully avoid the mistakes of their ancestors. And Teris, a Foundling who is just trying to understand and survive in this strange new world that is supposedly her own.

All three have their own wants and desires, but Kai’s plans, Teris’ existence, and Shouta's past mean that none of them may get what they want.

***while they are capable of beastly forms, most of the time they keep to their human form

This fic is rated explicit and has warnings of sex, violence, and other possible triggers. For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

13.1

The door opened before they were fully up the walk.

Hizashi’s eyes narrowed wondering if it was coincidence or if someone had been watching from within.

“Good evening.” Hari extended an ushering arm of entry. “You can leave your coats with Shin.”

So not a coincidence of someone happening to exit at the same time, Hizashi thought slipping off his jacket. Stop it, he scolded himself. They were expecting us. Of course they’d be watching and waiting for us. There’s nothing nefarious about it. You’re just being protective cause of what Teris went through today, and still on edge from what you saw; though you shouldn’t be. Kai already explained why he did that.

The disturbing image of Kai choking Hari replayed in his mind. Hizashi shook the memory away, wishing he had heard what Kai and Hari had said yet also glad he hadn’t.

He glanced at Hari. The Arepyiai didn’t seem timid or afraid. And though it had only been a few hours, Hari’s voice wasn’t raw and graveled from being choked. There was no bruising along his neck. Though thanks to Hizashi being half High Elf, his quick sharp eyes caught sight of puncture marks beneath Hari’s high collar where Kai’s talons had pierced the Fourth’s skin.

Trying to brighten his mood and Teris’, Hizashi tossed his jacket to the other man and theatrically asked Teris. “Why didn’t you tell me! I’m so getting on Oboro for skipping the really important stuff. I mean, I don’t care what fight Shouta would've put up, you can bet I would’ve pestered and worn him down till he caved and let us hire a maid or butler if you or Oboro had told me we could have ‘em.”

Teris stared, wide eyed.

Shin straightened and tensed, but to his credit said nothing.

Clearing his throat, Hari stiffly corrected. “Shin is a member of Kai’s Ilca. Not house staff.”

“Oh…” Hizashi's mouth hung in a perfect ‘o’ for a beat. “Sor--”

“If you will follow me. Kai and Master Ryuu are waiting.” It was rude to cut off a guest; but when the guest was a loud, lowly Hybrid, Hari didn’t much care and doubted Kai would take issue with it.

Turning with a sniff, Hari led the way. He would never dare question Kai’s reasoning or orders, but couldn’t help but wonder at Hizashi being invited. The Hybrid’s mere presence in their Ilca dorm was a disgusting insult. And to think the High Elf-Banshee Hybrid would have the pleasure of dinning at Kai’s table when Joi and Hari himself, two of Kai’s most trusted followers, rarely experienced such an honor.

“Sorry.” Hizashi mouthed to Teris as they followed Hari.

Teris smirked, battling a laugh. It wasn’t as if she could scold Hizashi when she had thought the same the first time she’d been in Kai’s Ilca dorm.

Hizashi brightened at Teris’ smile.

After getting back from hanging out with Oboro, he had found Shouta grading papers in the great room of their Ilca dorm. The Sphinx had said Teris had gone up to her chambers and wasn’t to be disturbed; nor was Hizashi to mention her interview or inspection unless she brought it up first.

Worried as Hizashi had been for Teris, Shouta's show of protectiveness had excited him. He knew Shouta and Teris would make a great couple if they but stopped arguing long enough to admit their feelings for each other. And for a few hours Hizashi had thought that their confession of love could be on the horizon. That today’s events would be a turning point for them.

But then Teris had come down and she and Shouta had had yet another argument. This one about her going to Kai’s for dinner. While Hizashi did his best to avoid getting involved in their disagreements, he had spoken up this time saying he would watch over Teris while they were there.

That had silenced both Shouta and Teris. And while the look of betrayal hidden within Shouta’s ireful expression had furthered Hizashi's sense of guilt; what had stung was the flicker of upset that had crossed Teris’ face. Was she not happy he was going? Did she not think him friend enough to hang out with Kai?

Seated in a plush chair in the sitting room adjacent to the formal dining, Kai smiled lightly. He smelled Teris’ wonderful scent before he even saw her. And after what happened today, it took everything in Kai’s power to control his dragon instincts and reclaim what was his.

As it was, a low barely audible growl sounded from his chest. Someone, he still didn’t know who, had inspected his chosen mate. It was bad enough that the Council had interviewed her; but to know someone had looked upon and touched what was his made him want to kill.

Ryuu didn’t need to see or smell Teris to know she had arrived; not when he could visibly see the changes in Kai. Though so subtle no one else would likely notice, for Ryuu who had raised the young Dragon, Kai’s deep savoring breath may as well have been a shouted declaration of love.

Ryuu didn’t question Kai’s sudden dark tension. The Tengu wasn’t anymore pleased about Teris’ interview and inspection than he had been about Kai’s several years ago. He wondered if Kai would’ve felt the same anger and protectiveness if he knew Teris was a Griffon. Probably not as Kai’s interest in her was still in its early stages. But Ryuu hoped that would change. That Kai would be able to look passed his pride and hate, and continue to love Teris anyway. He hoped that not just for Kai’s happiness, but for Kai and Teris’ continued existence. Cause even if the last Dragon and Griffon got along and were mated, it would still be a long hard fight to convince the Council to let them live when it was finally discovered that Teris was a griffon.

Hari stopped just inside the double doorway while Teris and Hizashi fully entered.

Getting to his feet, Kai went to Teris. His hand and inner wrist ran down her arm, scenting her. “I’m glad you’re here. Aizawa gave you no further trouble about coming?” He asked, keen gold eyes watching her for hidden tells.

Argument with Shouta still fresh, Teris bristled at the reminder. She stepped away from Kai’s touch annoyed with him. Glad as she was to have Hizashi attend with her, it bothered that Kai hadn’t mentioned his plan to include her friend this evening. Then again Kai hadn’t invited her, instead telling her she was joining him for dinner the afternoon of the dinner.

You’re being uncharitable, Teris thought. Everyone’s been on edge about members of the Council being here. Now that she knew Shouta and Kai weren’t just under the Council’s watch but continued to live only by the Council's good grace… Well, it didn’t excuse Kai deciding things for her; but given the level of her own distress, Teris couldn’t blame Kai for wanting support and friendly company.

Honestly, she doubted she would've gotten through the interview and inspection without Shouta’s strong, calming presence. The entire thing had brought back memories of when the scarred man with blue flames had questioned and tormented her. No doubt the ordeal had brought up memories of Shouta’s own interview and inspection. It certainly couldn’t have been easy for him to sit beside her during the interview then stand outside the room during her inspection. The fact that he likely struggled made her all the more grateful he had stayed with her and sought to divert her fearful focus.

And how did you thank him, her mind asked. By arguing and leaving him alone with his brought up memories. Shouta didn’t need or want me there, Teris argued with herself, ignoring the stab of guilt. He just didn’t want me to come here cause he’s controlling and hates Kai, she thought, trying to make herself feel better.

Pushing aside her warring feelings, Teris gave Kai an apologetic smile for rebuffing his touch and kissed his cheek. “You didn’t tell me you had invited Hizashi.”

Hizashi looked between the two, his earlier hurt easing. She hadn’t known he’d been invited? Well that explained her moment of silent surprise. But it still didn’t explain her brief beat of upset.

Kai softened at her chaste, tender kiss but looked disapprovingly at her when she didn’t answer his question and instead seemed to question him. “I did it for you. Are you not glad to have him here?”

“Of course I am.” Teris reached out and gripped Hizashi’s hand, hoping he didn’t think she didn’t want him there.

Kai hid his frown by turning to Hari. He didn’t like the idea of Teris touching anyone but him. But her willing touching a filthy Hybrid… He would have to see she had a bath before they got into his bed tonight. Then again he would've had her bathe with him before getting into bed either way.

“Inform Tabe he can start serving.” Kai told, dismissing Hari.

After a brief introduction between Hizashi and Ryuu, they moved to the dining room.

The space gave Hizashi pause. It was even more formal than what he’d seen of the place thus far. While not cluttered, the entire dorm made him nervous and afraid to touch anything. Kind of like the formal front sitting room at his grandmother’s that no one was allowed to sit in unless company came over.

Hizashi swallowed thickly at the four place settings of fine china and numerous utensils that sat atop the large table capable of seating well more than four.

Kai moved to a chair left of the head of the table and pulled it out. “Teris.”

“Thank you.” Teris sat, eyes skimming the table setting. She looked up a Kai frowning at the placement.

Kai pulled out the chair at the head of the table, to Teris’ right, and waited for his other two guests to take their places.

Still at the rooms entrance, Hizashi couldn’t help but notice he would be sitting alone at the middle of the long table.

Ryuu noticed it too, certain that Kai had ordered the seating arrangement for more than just honoring him and wanting Teris close. After all Kai was a Dragon and the dragon species had been obsessed with purity in all things; seeing purity itself as one of the greatest forms of wealth and power, two other things dragons had been consumed with having.

Knowing how distastefully difficult inviting Hizashi must’ve been for Kai, Ryuu was too pleased to be upset. The fact that Kai had willingly invited the Hybrid at all filling Ryuu with hope that Kai could move passed his aversion and change. But just because Kai had done well in inviting Hizashi didn’t mean Kai shouldn’t be pushed to grow further and act better.

The tinkling of silverware and clink of crystal against china drew everyone's attention.

From the opposite head of the table Ryuu gathered his place setting. “This table is too big for four to dine and comfortably converse so far apart.” The Tengu smiled kindly at a displeased Kai. “I am honored by your show of respect in placing me here and thank you for your esteem. But it has been a long, tiring day and I would greatly appreciate it if you humored an old Fourth in an friendly, less formal dinner.”

13.2

Shouta flew threw the bright moonlit sky, a sea of darkened treetops rushing beneath. It was nice to get out and stretch his wings just for the sake of it. Despite the fight he had put up at the time, he was grateful to Nedzu for ordering him off of patrol for today and tomorrow.

Shouta hadn’t realized how exhausting the day had been until he instinctually started getting ready for patrol.

When he finally remembered he had two days off, he’d fallen back in a chair and fell asleep. He had woken with a start sometime later, the nightmare slow to fade.

Even now as he flew, Shouta could still hear the yowls and growls of his pack being slaughtered as he was hidden and turned to stone. The cries of his dying pack mixed with those of the angry Council who shouted for his head and said he shouldn’t be alive.

Shouta shook his head, mane whipping around him, and flew faster as he could out fly the echoing memories.

13.3

“You know I still don’t get why the Boss wants a copy of my report to the Council's Leader.” Hawks said, fingers holding onto the envelope he was handing over.

Toga pulled, trying to take the envelope. “If you—don’t know—then maybe he—doesn’t want you knowing. Ha!” She proudly held the envelope freed from Hawks before her.

“Do you know why he wants my report on the female Foundlings inspection?” Hawks asked.

Toga deflated, seeing the envelope was magically sealed. She frowned at Hawks. “No.”

“It’s only the Boss already knows what the female Founding is.” Hawks said.

“Yeah. So.” Toga inspected the envelope in the moonlight, trying to find a way around its magical sealing.

“So,” Hawks drew out the word, “why would he want a copy of my report on a practically fruitless inspection that left me with nothing but a handful of traits that crossed off one, maybe two possible beasts she could be from the list of thousands?”

“Hundreds of thousands.” Toga’s distracted voice chirped.

“No. Not hundreds of thousands.” Hawks corrected. “Hundreds of thousands is the rough number of beasts there are. The reason I’m here is cause she’s an ancient beast which means my looking at a possibility of thousands is probably too broad, but I like to be thorough.”

Toga lowered the envelope and looked at Hawks. “You’re here cause the Boss said. Not cause the stupid Council wants you to figure out what that female Founding is.”

“I’m here for both.” Hawks said.

Toga frowned. She didn’t trust Hawks. The Anzu worked for the Council and spied for them. His allegiance clearly given at a price, there was no guarantee their double agent won’t turn on them and become a triple agent.

“Do you know what Teris is?” Hawks asked.

“No. And I wouldn’t tell you if I did.” Toga stuffed the envelope in her coat.

Hawks sighed. He missed dealing with Dabi. Sure Toga had been more fun at the start. His meetings with her a much needed reprieve from meeting with Dabi who always kept him on his toes. But Dabi’s watchful and conniving ways had helped keep him sharp; something he direly need if he was to protect the Fourth's of this world.

“So when’s our next meeting?” Hawks asked, dully.

“You’ll hear from the Boss. Big things are coming so when or who you’ll met at the next exchange.”

“What big things?”

Toga shrugged. “Don’t know. So long as I get to have fun I don’t care either.” Her eyes focused, piercing his. “You shouldn’t care neither, Spy.”

Hawks opened his mouth to say that it was because he was a spy that knowing what was going was so important; but a large shadow flew overhead staying his words.

Hawks and Toga looked up. They were meeting a short ways outside of Traverseen Hall’s property line. With Traverseen Hall’s guarding Shedu on one side and patrolling Ilca on the other, most would've thought this area the safest, most protected place in the region. It wasn’t. In actuality it was a dead zone and regular meeting ground for illegal activity because the Shedu of Traverseen Hall were too focused on guarding the many buildings and acres within the property line, and the Ilca were too busy patrolling the surrounding towns, villages, and roadways. So why then had someone just flown over them?

Hawks looked back at Toga to tell her to go but she had already turned into a fox and was running off.

Though tempted to leave himself, Hawks waited. The guilty ran; and if the flyer was a member of the Ilca and doubled back, he certainly didn’t want to appear guilty.

Seeing a bit of color beneath the canopy of trees, Shouta turned in the air and doubled back. He expected to find the color moving in attempt of escape; but it hadn’t.

His eyes narrowed. Surely whoever was down there had seen him pass overhead.

Shouta growled. The trees were too dense for him to break through the canopy in his true form without taking the risk of breaking a branch or tree and harming whoever was down there.

With practiced efficiency, Shouta’s wings folded back. He plummeted, forelegs outstretched. As soon as his paws touched the top most leaves, he change into his human form and flipped in the air. Sturdy work boots punched through the canopy. His head ducked, bent arms coming up to shield his face from clawing branches.

Through the dense branches, Shouta gripped his piece. The coil of fabric around his neck came to life. Several loops shot out, wrapping around thick branches.

Shouta swung through the air, his capture weapon slowing his fall.

Hawks watched Shouta land several paces from him. What Hawks assumed was a carefully chosen distant that would allowed the Sphinx to react should he be attacked.

“Impressive. You sure know how to make an entrance.”

Shouta’s piece unwound from the branches and settle loosely around his neck. “Hawks. What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same. Nedzu gave you two nights off.”

Shouta stared unblinking waiting for answer.

“Just needed some air.” Hawks lied.

Shouta’s eyes skimmed the area, unfazed that Hawks knew of Nedzu’s order. He was use to the Council keeping tabs on him. It didn’t surprise that Hawks, in the employ of the Council, would take the time to learn his schedule.

“This area’s not a safe place to get some air.” Shouta told.

“Really? Why’s that?”

Hands slipping into his pockets, Shouta’s eyes returned to Hawks. “Regular meeting spot for criminals.”

Hawks blinked, head pulling back in feigned surprise. “And here I figured this was the safest place outside of Traverseen Hall, what with the guarding Shedu and Ilca constantly leaving and returning from patrol.”

“A common misconception. Traverseen Hall’s properly line is a mile and three-quarters northeast. For your safety I suggest you return. It has the same fresh air as here without the risk.” Shouta turned to go.

“If I may, I’d like to ask you some questions about Teris.” Hawks called after him.

Shouta paused, shoulders tensing. Schooling his features, he turned back. “Sure. Feel free to make an appointment at with dispatch or the schools main office.”

Smart ass, Hawks thought. He smiled. “Or you could just let me ask them now.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for your appointment. Let’s hope I’ll have I free moment to meet with you before you and the Council Elder’s leave tomorrow afternoon.”

Hawks’ smile widened. “You hadn’t heard? Well, I suppose you wouldn’t’ve. I doubt Director Nedzu’s been informed yet.” His wings ruffled, feathers puffing. “I won’t be leaving tomorrow afternoon. I’m staying on indefinitely. So I’ll have plenty of time to in more of Traverseen Hall’s air, and make that appointment with you.”

13.4

Dinner had been a long, loud affair which had made Kai feel like a third wheel at his own table. What he had planned as an evening of the two most important people in his life getting to know each other and bonding over him had turned into Teris, Ryuu, and Hizashi telling jokes and sharing stories while he sat there and listened.

Kai wasn’t one to drink in excess but he certainly had his fair share of drink tonight. Lucky for him his dragon system burned through alcohol quickly or he’d be drunk. Instead, he was all too sober as the evening drew to a close and he led his guests to the door.

“This was such a pleasant evening. Thank you for hosting us, Kai, my boy.” Ryuu smiled, taking his coat from Hari.

Kai inclined his head. “It was my pleasure.”

“I didn’t expect to have so much fun.” Hizashi put in.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” Kai forced a smile. “I’d be happy to have you over again.”

Hari’s eyes snapped to Kai. He couldn’t be serious. Surely having the Hybrid over once was enough to appease Kai’s chosen mate. Hari still didn’t understand why Kai was going through all this to win Teris’ affection. The woman should be honored to have Kai’s favor. The only reason Hari could fathom Teris wasn’t falling over, proclaiming herself unworthy was because she was a know nothing Foundling. Even so, it was an insult.

Teris caught the slight tension in Kai’s expression. She felt bad that he’d been left out at his own dinner party. It wasn’t like they’d purposefully excluded him from the conversation. In fact she, Ryuu, and Hizashi had continually tried to get him to participate. Kai was simply too proper to comfortably engage in raucous conversation.

“Maybe next time we can have you over at our place.” Hizashi invited.

“Or, we could meet somewhere else.” Kai said, thinking he wouldn’t be caught dead entering Aizawa’s Ilca dorm.

“Sure! That sounds great.” Hizashi beamed, oblivious to Kai’s reasoning. He took his jacket and looked to Teris. “We best get home.” He laughed. After only three months in this new world it was amazing how their dorm truly felt like home.

Kai tensed, looking from Hizashi to Teris. Upon his order Hari hadn’t brought her coat since he assumed she would stay a while after Ryuu and Hizashi left.

Teris saw Kai’s look. She knew him well enough to know he wanted her to stay a bit. Tired as she was, she’d rather avoid going home and seeing Shouta. She wasn’t up for another argument or the guilt that would come for having left him alone when he likely needed company and distraction.

“I’m— ah… —gonna stay a bit longer.” Teris told Hizashi.

Ryuu smiled at her and Kai. They would make a fine, powerful couple. With luck they would forge a true and lasting peace that healed the wounds their species had inflicted with the war. The Council said that’s what they were doing; but as a Council member himself, Ryuu could safely say they were nothing more than a group of cruel, paranoid authoritarians who formulated hypocritical laws in effort to force their brand of peace and fairness.

Well aware of his own faults, Ryuu had no trouble admitting to himself that he was part of the problem. He couldn’t count the number of times he had used, twisted, or purposed a law to benefit him or those he favored. Wrong as it was, it was how the Council's system worked. But just because he knew it was wrong and went along with it, didn’t mean he couldn’t hope for something better.

Hizashi blinked, ears lowering. He might've come to like Kai this night; but he still thought Teris and Shouta belonged together. Shouta would be at their dorm waiting for them. If he came back without Teris, Shouta's feelings would be hurt. It would drive Shouta and Teris into further arguments.

“Al—alright. If that’s what you want.” Hizashi said.

“I won’t be long. An hour or two at most.” Teris said.

“Well, be safe getting back.” Hizashi hugged her.

Even though the magical barriers and guarding Shedu made Traverseen Hall as safe a place could be, Teris hugged him back. “You too.”

Kai’s skin grew itchy just watching them. Filthy Hybrid. If Teris was always this affectionate with Hizashi, he should have her disinfected every time she entered his dorm. He couldn’t wait till they were companions so he could tell her to cease unnecessary contact with all hybrids. Or better yet skip being companions and be mated so he could order her to stay by his side or in their chambers so she’d never have to see or speak to anyone else again.

Ryuu stepped before Kai. “I’m leaving in the afternoon and probably won’t see you again.”

Kai nodded, respect and care for the Fourth that raised him welling in his chest.

“I hope it won’t be so long before we see each other again.”

“I feel the same.” Kai said.

“I take it you’ll continue to write.”

“Of course.”

Ryuu smiled. He wanted to hug the young Dragon that was more like a son than the sons he had lost in the war. But out of respect for Kai, he held back. “I’m proud of you, my boy.”

Kai’s head dipped. “Thank you. sir. That means a lot coming from you.”

13.5

Returned from his flight, Shouta entered the Ilca dorm. The place was dark and quiet. Too quiet; at least compared to the new normal of having Hizashi and Teris living there. He should've been happy. His dorm was empty and peaceful, the way it should've been. The way it had been before Nedzu had guilted and all but forced him to accept two Foundling’s as part of his Ilca. But he wasn’t happy or at peace. The dorm felt too empty and quiet.

Disgusted with himself, Shouta closed the front door and plopped on a couch in the great room. Shouldn’t Hizashi and Teris have been back by now? Just how long did a dinner party last?

You’d know if you’d ever been to one, Shouta sardonically thought laying his head back against the cushion.

Of course he’d gone to all sorts of parties. ...okay, maybe not all sorts. But Nemuri and Oboro had begged and bugged enough to make him attend several functions. Granted he usually arrived late and never stayed long enough to see them end, so he had no clue just how long these things lasted.

He sighed. He should use this time to work on specialized lesson plans for 1-A but after the long, trying day he just wanted to sit and relax. He had wanted to sit and relax with his Ilca. But Kai had ruined that; just as he and his kind before him had ruined everything in Shouta’s life.

The front door opened.

Shouta fought the urge to sit up and turn, forcing himself to stay put.

“Back already.” Shouta’s disinterested voice rumbled.

“Oh! Hey, Shou. What are you doin’ sittin’ in the dark?” Hizashi flicked on a light and closed the door.

Shouta watched him slip of his jacket as he came around the sofa to sit in the opposite one. “Where’s Teris?”

“Teris? Um…” Hizashi rubbed the flat of his chin. “She, uh… She decided to stay a bit longer.” At Shouta's darkening expression, he hurriedly added. “Just for an hour or two.”

“Is this what you call watching over her?”

“She-- I--”

Shouta sat up. “You said you would watch over her.

“I--”

The Sphinx got to his feet and made of his office. “Thank you, Yamada. It’s nice to know what I can trust my people with. I’ll remember this when need someone officially looked after.”

Hizashi stomped a foot and stood. “That’s not fair!”

Shouta looked back, eyes widened slightly in surprise. Hard as he was on Hizashi and Teris, Hizashi had never spoken back or raised his voice in disagreement.

Hizashi frowned. “You’re just mad cause you didn’t want Teris going to Kai’s and now she’s staying a few more hours and alone with him. Well that’s not my fault. What was I suppose to do? Argue with her? That’s your thing. Maybe if you were nicer and told her how you feel she would've stayed here instead of going to Kai’s, who for your information might be kinda posh but is a really nice and charming guy I don’t get why you hate him. Though I suppose you just decided you hated him without giving him a chance the way you do with practically everything.”

Shouta stared.

Hizashi gasped, slapping a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry, Shouta. I didn’t mean all that.”

Shouta ignored the muffled apology. “What feelings do you think I need to tell Teris about?”

Hizashi blinked, hand lowering slowly.

“I have no feelings for Teris. She’s--” my Ilca, Shouta thought carefully not wanting any mistakes, “--my Ilca, same as you. There are no feelings passed that.”

“But…”

Shouta pinned Hizashi with a boring gaze.

“...right. Never mind. Sorry.”

Shouta gave a curt nod. “I got lessons to plan which need to be done tonight since I, unfortunately have a surprise for you tomorrow.”

“A surprise!”

Shouta winced at Hizashi's loud piercing voice. What had he been thinking? Was he a glutton for punishment? He had to have been possessed when he returned home and thought it too quiet.

“What’s the surprise!” Hizashi enthused, volume barely a decibel lower.

“Nothing if you don’t quiet down and leave me alone.”

Hizashi's head pulled back, ears lowering.

Shouta sighed. Hizashi may have been wrong about Kai. He was totally wrong in thinking he had feelings for Teris. But Hizashi wasn’t wrong about his needing to be nicer. It was just so much easier to be gruff and rude. It scared people away and kept him safe from growing attached and getting hurt. He had lost his pack. And though he didn’t remember their names and faces; he remembered the joy, love, and warmth. He still suffered the anguish of their loss. He didn’t want to chance getting close to anyone, afraid to have them ripped away like that again. He didn’t think he could survive it.

But like it or not, he had accepted Hizashi and Teris as his Ilca. It was wrong to always be so sharp and distant with them. He had to find a way to be nice and still guard himself.

“I’ll tell you when Teris gets back if you’re still up.” Shouta said, tone mildly softer.

“Okay.” Hizashi beamed.

13.6

Teris exited the washroom and pulled the towel Kai had carefully wrapped around her hair, wet locks falling free.

Kai grimaced as droplets rained down on her robe and the expensive area rug beneath their feet. It wasn’t the cost that bothered but the mess. His chosen mate needed to learn to take more care.

“Here, let me.” Kai held out a hand.

Teris pushed her wet hair back and balled up the towel. “It’s fine. I’m use to letting my hair dry on its own.”

“Then you could do with some pampering.”

“Kai. There’s no need to fuss.”

“You’re the one making a fuss, Beautiful. Now hand me the towel and sit down and turn around.”

Teris rolled her eyes and sighed but did as she was told.

Kai collected her hair. “There. Was that so hard?”

“Yes.” Teris played. She could feel Kai’s stare and turned, looking at him over her shoulder.

Kai raised a brow.

“No.” Teris admitted fighting a smile. She faced forward.

Kai frowned down at the top of her head. He wasn’t adverse to playful banter. In fact he had grown insanely jealous of the amount of inside jokes and laughter Teris had shared with Hizashi this evening. He wanted to have that with her. He wanted to be the only one she had that with. But first he had to be sure Teris knew he would always be the one in control. That she would respect and obey him in all things. Only when he was sure of that could he allow himself to be fully free with her. His cause was simply too important to let it be otherwise.

To others it might seem like harmless playful banter. But given his precarious position and aims, it could expose him and make him look weak; and weakness could mean death. Too many Fourth's were counting on him. The pride and continuation of dragon kind depended on him. His life and wants were not his own.

He might have picked Teris to be his mate. But there was still so much he didn’t know about her. He didn’t even know what species of Fourth she was, other than that she was a pack beast of ancient heritage. Despite his personal desires to form a connection as free and open as he had witness between her and Hizashi tonight, for the sake of his cause and followers he couldn’t do so until he was certain of her complete obedience and fealty.

“I didn’t realize you and Hizashi were so close.” Kai said, after a moment of towel drying her hair.

Teris shrugged. “Not sure if it’s cause of what we went though together after being found and brought here. But we kind of latched onto one another and became fast friends. He’s like a brother.”

“I’m glad you have him.” Kai said, surprise to find he actually meant it to a certain degree.

It couldn’t have been easy for Teris to be brought to Oblvi and learn another world existed. That the beasts, spirits, sprites, and demons she’d previously thought as mythical were real and she was one of them. Given all that, it was no wonder she was so close to Hizashi. No doubt her coming here would’ve been a lot harder on her if she’d gone through it alone. For that Kai was grateful for Hizashi.

Thinking of how she was a pack beast, Kai asked. “Did you have anyone close like that before you were found and brought here?”

Teris looked down, unconsciously picking at a hang nail.

“It couldn’t have been easy. Being discovered and taken from them.” Kai prodded.

Teris’ eyes unfocused. The memory of exiting a movie theater with her friends invading her mind like tidal wave.

The theater had been dark and deserted, a midnight showing the only time they could all meet up to drool over their favorite Hollywood hottie on the big screen. For those few hours she had forgotten about the scarred man who had been following her for nearly a week. That was until she had exited the theater to find him waiting outside.

The man had grinned, blue flames igniting from the mans hands. Being the first one to exit, Teris spun and shoved her friends back inside. With superhuman strength that she had later thought was from adrenaline before being brought here Teris bent the steel door frame locking the door in place. With her friends safely locked inside, she turned to run; but it had been too late. The scarred man was on her.

“Teris?”

The memory faded. Teris swallowed. Taking in a steadying breath she apologized. “Sorry. Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure.”

“Ryuu’s less scary than I first thought.” Not wanting to mention her interview for both their sakes, Teris looked back at him. “Thank you for giving me a chance to get to know him.”

“So you forgive me for planning tonight's dinner?”

“I wasn’t upset at you planning dinner. I was--” Not wanting to argue, she stopped herself and began again. “I’m glad we were able to be here to divert your thoughts from whatever today rehashed.”

Kai caressed her cheek. He had long ago bottled and buried the childhood fear he had over his interview and inspection; instead using the memory to spur his hate for the Council and fuel his drive for his cause. But it warmed his heart that she thought she had cared for him and was glad for it. “I did it for you.”

“Well I certainly needed the diversion, so thank you.”

Kai tenderly kissed her. Teris tugged at the back of his neck, deepening the kiss. Kai groaned. He wanted her on her back, robe off, now; but her hair was still a wet mess.

Kai straightened to his full height, breaking the kiss. “Face front and let me finish.”

“If this is your way of making me wait to further entice, it’s annoying and working.” Teris said as she turned her back to Kai.

Kai chuckled. “Nice to know you’re so easy for me, Beautiful.”

“Ha!” Teris huffed.

Done drying, Kai proceeded to brush her hair.

Teris’ eyes slipped closed. There was no clock in Kai’s rooms. At least not the three rooms she’d been in. But that didn’t matter.

She hadn’t lied to Hizashi when she said she’d only be an hour or two. At least she hadn’t intended to lie. At the time she had wanted to go home and sleep in her bed. But the soft domestic comfort she found with Kai, coupled with the haunting memories today’s events churned up, had her wanting to stay the night. She wondered if Kai would be alright with that.

Afraid to ask should he say no, she decided not to mention her desire to stay; instead choosing to wait and see if he asked her to leave.

Her scalp tingled, skin prickling. “Mmm… That feels good.”

Kai continued working as he bent, head coming beside hers. “See. I know what’s good for you.”

“You sure do.” Teris murmured, revealing in the bristles gentle rake over her scalp. “Don’t ever let me doubt you again.”

Kai smiled slightly, taking in her profile. “I won’t. I promise.”

13.7

Shigaraki entered the abandoned warehouse, the closing door doing nothing to stifle the stench of humans. Damn, he hated this world with a vengeance. Eyes adjusted to the darkness, he squinted, blue flames igniting on the towering loft.

“It’s common courtesy to knock.” Dousing his blue flames, the Salamander stepped off the loft. Long coat tails flapped behind his falling form. Heavy boots hit the damp concrete floor with a resounding bang. Dabi straightened. “Then again, you strike me as too ill-bred to know what the word courtesy means.”

“I will strike you for real if you don’t shut up.” Shigaraki said.

“I’d like to see you try, freeze-dried.”

Shigaraki’s eyelids fluttered, crimson eyes rolling. This was why he had stayed away from Dabi during their time here. He couldn’t fathom why his Master wanted the Salamander alive. Far as Shigaraki could tell Dabi was good for nothing other than getting on peoples nerves. Sure Dabi had been the one to find and capture Teris. But Dabi had lost her. And while Dabi’s flames were hotter and deadlier than most Salamander's; his wasn’t immune to his own fires heat.

“By this time tomorrow we’ll be back home and free these forced meetings.” Shigaraki told himself and Dabi.

“I’m thinking of staying on.” Dabi said.

“What do you mean?”

“Here. In earths realm.”

“You can’t be serious.” Shigaraki said, incredulous.

“Why not? Humans are so much fun.”

“Humans are disgusting, weak vile creatures who smell.”

“I know.” The scarred Salamander smiled, wickedly. “They’re so weak and smell so good.”

“Stay if you want. See if I care.” Shigaraki spat.

“You mean you’re not gonna try and reason with me, or say how my life belongs to the Master of All and I need to obey his order to return?”

“If our time together here has taught me anything, it’s that there’s no reasoning with you.” Shigaraki paused a beat, daggered eyes stabbing through Dabi. “And your life does belong to the Master. So if you want to forfeit it by disobeying, so much the better.”

“Well you suddenly became a whole lot less fun.” Dabi complained. “I’m glad we’re going home tomorrow.”

13.8

Teris slowly stalked through the forest in search of her prey. She caught sight of tail flicking behind a tree and charged. Her laughter resounded through the woods ruining the surprise attack.

Black wings spread from behind the tree trunk. In a flash of dabble grey and black fur, and whoosh of air her prey took to the sky with an echoing laugh.

Teris followed, chasing her new friend.

Hide and seek forgotten, a game of tag begun in its place. They flew and ran through the forest all afternoon. Swooping passed watchful guards. Racing around chiding adults. It was the best time Teris had ever had in her short life, and she never wanted it to end.

The sun was dipping low when a voice called for her. “Teris. It’s time to go.”

Teris skidded to a halt, the chasing boy running into her. She looked back at her friend then turned to her father. “Can’t we stay a bit longer, Papa?”

Standing with her new friends parents, her father shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Chickadee. Say your goodbyes.”

Teris took to the air with her father and their guards. She looked back at the mass of rock caves that was her friends home, watching him grow smaller the further she got.

“Face front, Teris. Always be looking forward.” Her father told.

With reluctance, Teris turned away facing forward. “Will I see and play with him again?”

A purring growl resonated in her father’s chest. “I hope so, my dear. For all our sakes, I hope so.”

The dream changed from forgotten memory to a rather forgotten nightmare.

“I hope for your sake you remember, little bird.”

“Remember what!” Teris cried, cowering away from the scarred mans blue flames. “I don’t know what you want. Please! Just tell me what you want. I’ll do anything. Say, anything. Please. Please. Just tell me what to say.”

“It doesn’t work that way, lion cub. If I knew these things, I wouldn’t need you, now would I.”

Teris trembled despite the searing heat. The man was going to kill her if he got what he wanted. At the rate things were going, he was going to kill her either way. How she had healed from the blue fires, let alone survived them was a wonder.

“Remember, Teris. It’s bad enough your very existence will rip apart the feeble peace our new overlords have made. If you don’t remember there will be war. You’ll be to blame for millions of deaths. Towns and cities will crumble and burn. Blood with stain the ground and flow in stream and sea. Do you really want to be the cause of so much death? Do you want to be what ends our world? Remember!”

Teris threw her arms over her head and pulled at her hair. “No!”

Kai jolted awake, face smacked by something. His fighting instinct died in the space of a rapid heartbeat. Teris laid naked beside him, restless and mumbling in her sleep. Sometime during the night she had shifted out of his arms; but that wasn’t what bothered him at the moment. No. It was the way her face was pinched in fear and pain. Her sweet lips pressed between her teeth biting them raw. Hands tangled in her hair, roughly pulling.

Kai firmly grasped her hands, staying their tortuous tug. “Teris.”

She moaned in anguish.

“Teris, you’re dreaming. Wake-up, Sweetheart.”

Teris’ eyes snapped open. She pushed against the person in front of her, trying to back away.

Kai’s arm wrapped around her, holding her fast. “It’s me. You’re safe.”

Her eyes cleared of the nightmares fog. “Kai.” She clasped his shoulders, needing something solid and strong to anchor to.

Kai’s arm tightened around her, the other smoothing her hair. “It’s okay. I got you. It was just a dream. You’re safe, here with me.”

Teris buried her face in his chest, fighting oncoming tears. She had woken-up alone in her chambers numerous times from nightmares about the scarred man. Each time she had broken down crying. But her pride wouldn’t allow her to do so with Kai. Even if it did, she still would've held back. Kai was stronger and just as proud as she was. Tears would likely make him uncomfortable and be a sign of weakness.

“You’re shivering. I’ll start a fire.” Kai propped up in bed.

Teris’ head jerked up, eyes wild. “No fire!”

At the same time as her plea, Kai’s amber eyes glowed. He blew out a puff of orange flames in the direction of the fireplace. The fireball flew across the room and struck a pile of wood set in the hearth.

Kai turned back to her. “I wasn’t going to leave your side.”

Teris’ trembling died down. It wasn’t blue fire. She wasn’t the scarred mans captive. She was free, and safe with Kai. Kai would never let anyone hurt her.

“I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Hey.” Kai’s hand cupped her face, attempting to lift it. “Look at me.” He commanded when she fought against him.

Teris slowly lifted her head.

“If you’re ever upset, distressed, or in trouble I want you to come to me. I don’t care what’s going on or what time it is, if I’m asleep or in a meeting. If I’m away on mission one of my Ilca will find me while other watches over you.”

“Kai--”

His hand gripped the back of her neck. “No matter what it is, you are to come to me. Understand?”

“Kai, I--”

“Do you understand?” Kai pressed, hand tightening a fraction.

Her eyes searched his. He was so handsome, gold eyes shimmering in the warm dancing firelight. He’s flames were nothing like Dabi’s cold, consuming fire. She could bask in his hold and comfort forever. But one thing she couldn’t do was say she understood. She was simply to proud and independent to agree to something like that.

She kissed him, letting her lips and tongue tell of her appreciation despite her refusal to accept.

Kai returned her hungry kiss. He knew full well what she was doing but couldn’t deny his quickly hardening cock. Not when her hot, naked body grooved against his. He would let it go for now. But the conversation wasn’t over.

“Let me take care of you.” Kai murmured against her lips.

“Kai…” For a moment she thought he was continuing to press the matter.

Kai rolled her onto her back, heated kisses moving to her neck. “Lay back and relax. Let me take care of you, Beautiful.”

Teris sucked in a stuttering breath, back arching herself up against him.

Kai breathed in her scent, nose gliding up her pulse point. “Still so eager and needy. And after I gave you how many orgasms this night? How many do I think I can give you this time?”

Teris’ hips rolled against his. “Kai. Please.”

“Patience, my Sweet.”

Teris mewled, lashes fluttering.

Kai’s lips pulled along the line of her jaw, trailing open mouthed kisses down her chest. “I’m going to take such good care of you.”

Her head lifted as he got to her stomach, realization dawning.

Kai’s honeyed eyes shined up at her over the expanse of her body. “Don’t worry, Gorgeous. I’ll give you my cock soon enough. But first, I’m going to enjoy a midnight snack.”

Next chapter is the Fall Harvest Moon Festival. Or, as someone on here called it, the Orgey Festival. lol

***This fic will have a LOT more world building than my others. Please feel free to comment or send me an ask if you have any questions.

Thank you to those who have left hearts. And a special thank you to those who have left comments and/or reblogged. They really mean a lot.

Special thank you to @inorganicone2230 who knows of my love for the mythic and encouraged me to start this fic without stressing about the other two I’ve got going. Your friendship means the world to me.

#aizawa shouta #kai chisaki #yamada hizashi #Hari Kurono #yandere #bnha #lost song

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