#stylish aprons

[pas-si-fleur]

I think this is the last one I'll get for the forseeable future but, I got a new doll,,,

Really cool fox 🦊

[double-dare-designs]

Let’s Bake

Personalize

https://www.zazzle.com/z/ugbpv4st?rf=238828267405258083

[kashverse]

nanami knew this day would come. it had started innocently—too innocently. babykuna, the tiny menace to society, had somehow developed an obsession with dinosaurs. it was all she talked about. all she drew. all she screamed at an ungodly volume.

"RAWWWWR! I’M GONNA EAT YOU, POOPYHEAD!"

and of course, because yuuji admired his little she-devil bestfriend far too much, he immediately jumped on the hype train like a devoted disciple. which brings us to now. yuuji, standing in the middle of the living room, clutching nanami’s hands, eyes wide with uncontainable excitement.

"papa. we need diwosaur suits."

"…what."

yuuji gasped. "suits. but not boring ones. fun ones. kom-fee ones. cozy-wosy ones." his chubby little hands balled into fists. “onesies.” nanami slowly exhaled, already regretting this conversation. "yuuji, why do we need dinosaur onesies?"

yuuji stared up at him like he had just said the dumbest thing in existence. "’cuz."

"because what?"

"’cuz they cool, papa." he stomped his little foot for emphasis. "and… and we need matching ones! group ones! like a famiwy pack!"

"yuuji, we are not a pokémon bundle."

"but papa, pwetty pleaseeeee." his tiny hands grabbed at nanami’s apron, shaking it with desperation. "we gotta! we gotta be diwosaurs in da wild! rawwr! rawwr!"

"yuuji, i am a grown man—"

"a fun grown man!"

"—who will not be parading around in public in a dinosaur onesie."

yuuji gasped so dramatically that he nearly choked. "papa." his voice trembled. “papa, do you not love me anymore?” nanami pinched the bridge of his nose. "yuuji, i bought you legos."

"yes, but dis is more."

you, watching from the kitchen with your coffee, tried very hard not to laugh. but yuuji had not forgotten about you. "mama!" he sprinted towards you, grabbing at your sleeve. “mama, you love diwosaurs, wight? wight??” you raised a brow. "do i?"

"yes." yuuji decided. "and we gotta be matching! papa is da big dino, you da mommy dino, and i am baby dino!" he beamed. "and den we can go outside and show da whole wide world our dino power!"

nanami, horrified, turned to you. “do not encourage this.” you hummed, sipping your coffee. "i dunno, honey. it does sound like family bonding."

yuuji gasps. "mama likes! it's two against one, papa!"

nanami closed his eyes. he was outnumbered. and so, three days later, nanami found himself standing in front of the mirror, staring at his own reflection.

in a green dinosaur onesie.

yuuji cheered, "LOOKIT, LOOKIT! PAPA, YOU DA BIG DINO!"

nanami dragged a tired hand down his face. he was a grown man. he paid taxes. he handled real estate investments. he had a retirement plan. 

and yet.

here he was, dressed like a discount godzilla, while his son gleefully jumped on the couch in his tiny orange dinosaur onesie. you, in your own (slightly more stylish) onesie, patted nanami’s arm. "you look good, babe."

he sighed deeply. "this is my life now."

and just when nanami thought it couldn’t get any worse—

"UNCLE KENNY, UNCLE KENNY!" babykuna burst into the apartment, skidding to a stop. she blinked up at him. then, with the smuggest little grin—

"you look so silly."

nanami closed his eyes. this was exactly why he should have never given in to capitalism.

[mueller7]

Elevate your hospitality game with the perfect uniform essential: the adjustable neck apron. 🍽️🔝

[writersdrug]

waitress reader’s reaction to bartender Ghost getting hit on by someone they think is more attractive?

Oh, she would be so so jealous.

You're wiping down your table, standing on your tippy-toes to reach the middle of the high-top, when you spot the receipt tucked in between the sugars and the pepper. Another successful, big tip, and you're tucking your rag into your server apron and jogging across the floor to share your victory with Simon - when you spot her.

She's sitting at the bar; perfect, blonde waves of her hair cascading down her upper back. She's stylish, wearing a green, corduroy jacket and skinny jeans, wedges on her perfectly manicured feet. Her ankles are crossed politely on the edge of the barstool, her back is arched with perfect posture, and you just know her boobs are a ten out of ten, even though you're facing her back. She's definetly taller than you, you can see that while she's sitting down.

You're so jealous you're probably steaming - and the worst part about it is Ghost. He's not giving her the gruff, unbothered attitude he usually gives everyone at the bar - far from it. He's leaning back against the liquor shelf, eyes crinkled in what you can only assume is a flirtatious smile, hands gripping the counter to flex those goddam Greek-god muscles. He listens to her as she prattles on, laughing at everything and anything he has to say (he just asked if she needed more napkins. Why the fuck is that so funny?!)

Truthfully, he's over this chick. He's the same as you, playing up his charm to keep those tips rolling in - but this girl is exhausting. Always laughing, kinda daft, talks like she's the only woman on the planet... his muscles are tense as he fights the urge to throw his rag at her, he's grimacing behind his mask, teeth clenching to hold back an annoyed groan and god does she ever shut the fuck up-

He notices you, standing in the middle of the restaurant floor, pen tucked into your hair, with flyaways sprouting from your scalp like fireworks, chin slightly jutted out in a pout. Your hands are balled into fists at your sides - you're choking your notepad to death, and you have the nastiest, most adorable look on your face that Simon's ever had the pleasure of seeing.

He scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. "Doin' alright, luv?"

You blink at him, and he has to hold back a snort. The girl turns around to you - great. She's hot, too.

"Oh- hey..." she grabs her ramekin from her dish and holds it out to you. "Is there more ketchup?"

You glare at her for a few moments, not bothering to hide your distaste for her. Simon's about to get it himself, but you snatch the ramekin from her and storm past the kitchen door with a "lemme see."

Ghost furrows his brow at your irate behavior. He wonders if one of the customers gave you a hard time; he politely excuses himself from the woman (thank fuck, she's getting exhausting) and goes to check on you in the kitchen.

"-ye need a feckin' wot now?!"

"I need you to fill a ramekin with half ketchup and half tobasco!"

"Ye got hot sauce oan all th' bloody tables!"

"I need you to do it!"

Ghost chuckles to himself, putting the pieces together. He isn't blind - he recognizes that green-eyed monster anywhere, lord knows he's felt it too. Makes his chest ouff up a bit, seeing you get all ruffled and grumpy over him. It also makes him feel a bit better about fussing over you, when his patrons try to win you over. Guess we both have double standards.

You walk back out, smiling at the woman and handing her the ramekin back. "You got the last of the ketchup! Enjoy!" And, with a cheeky grin, you walk back off to tend to your tables.

She looks at Simon and he shrugs. "Looks like ya got lucky."

[htaesan]

　ᅠ ✿　ᅠ WHERE NO ONE KNOWS ME 　　────　ᅠ ( lee heeseung )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀after a long day of relentless fame, you find yourself in the comfort of a small cosy coffee shop, only to be met with a barista who treats you like any other person. in his quiet kindness, you find something worth living for again𑁋a place to be unknown, and maybe the start of something more.

　　　ᅠ 이희승 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 1.4k ⠀ genre fluff meet cute barista au non idol au ⠀ contains mentions of food ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net

　　　ᅠ note ᅠ from ᅠ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈 ! ᅠ i.. have no idea how i managed to pull this off amidst having like 10 reports to write but i pulled through !! happy birthday @flwrstqr, this is for you !

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

THE city lights blur around you as you step out of the car, pulling your mask over your face. You sigh, taking in the view around you—everyone is busy with their own lives. Some are walking, hand in hand with their partner; some are on the phone, talking to someone on the other side with no care in the world; and some are enjoying a stroll through the city’s nightlife. Ordinary, simple, tranquil. 

And that is all you want. 

Your schedule has been busy these past few months—brand deals rushing in like a massive flood, photo shoots every other day, interviews here and there, paparazzi and flashing cameras everywhere you go, people recognising you and taking videos of you anywhere. You didn’t expect it to turn out like this. You didn’t expect that your debut album, filled with songs which lyrics you heartfully wrote and melodies you intricately built, would blow up almost instantly over the course of three weeks. And the hype hasn’t died down, even after six months. It just got bigger and bigger. 

It’s not like you don’t like it—your fame is what you rightfully deserve after all the sleepless nights working to make sure your debut is as perfect as possible. But now, you’re tired, and it’s like your life isn’t yours anymore. 

You take a deep breath, eyes glued to the café in front of you. It looks cosy, tucked into one of the only quiet streets of the city. The warm glow radiating from its windows pulled your interest. You walk towards its entrance, realising that this place is near your apartment, but you’ve never had the time to visit. Not until now. 

You push the café door open, the warm air bursting against your face. You scan the small space—there’s a few customers, but so far, none of them are paying attention to you.

You gulp. You can’t let your guard down just yet. 

You approach the register, lowering your cap down as you instinctively prepare to lower your voice—an attempt to mask your well-known identity, even though the entire country already knows who you are just from one look at your eyes. 

From the other side of the counter, the barista is cleaning a mug. He looks a little too stylish—perhaps a little too good looking to be working in such a tranquil place. He perks up at your presence, and you immediately look at the name tag pinned against his apron. 

Heeseung. 

“Welcome,” he says, his smile polite and his voice calm. You narrow your eyes at the black-haired man in front of you. 

He didn’t let out any gasp of recognition, and there wasn’t any frantic energy radiating out of him. 

You pause. 

This is new. This is weird. 

“What would you like to order?” he asks, fingers ready to key in your order into the iPad in his hand. 

You clear your throat, ordering a drink and a dessert for yourself, your voice steady but alarmingly cautious. 

“A caramel latte and a pavlova, please.”

“Alright. Name?”

The world goes silent for a minute. You look around rather anxiously. For a moment, you think everyone’s listening. 

“Elle,” you lie. 

You watch as Heeseung raises a brow at the way you’re eyeing him, but he doesn’t do anything about it. He keys in whatever you’ve told him, then he nods at you before turning to make your order. 

You linger at the counter for quite a while before retreating to a table at the corner of the café, away from everyone else. 

It’s weird. Why is he treating you like any other person here? Doesn’t he know who you are?

You sink into your chair, letting the cushions embrace you. You lean against it, letting the exhaustion settle in. The day’s events rush to your head, and it makes you feel like you’re spinning. 

And it makes you question Heeseung too. 

Every second you’re outside, you have to keep your guard up, in case of anything. You can’t really do what you like, afraid that it’d make you face ridicule. You have to make sure you’re always donned up, and you have to make sure you’re following all of the other ridiculous rules society sets upon you—you never know when people are watching. 

But why isn’t Heeseung treating you like everyone else does? Why doesn’t he treat you like you’re the most perfect person on earth? Why isn’t he analysing your every move, waiting for some kind of mistake that he could bring you down with?

“Excuse me,” Heeseung’s voice rings through your ears, and as you eyes flutter open, you don’t realise you’ve been dozing off. He gives you a polite smile, a tray with your drink and your dessert in hand. 

“Here’s your order, Elle,” he says, setting down the mug and plate on the table. “Enjoy.” 

You sit there, frozen as you don’t know what to do.

Then, as he’s about to turn to leave, the question that’s been lingering around in your head leaves your mouth without you realising. “Do you know who I am?”

Heeseung pauses. “Yeah.”

“Who am I, then?” you ask, and albeit the awkwardness, you meet his eyes.

“You’re Y/N,” he replies, his voice quieter this time. 

Your chest tightens. 

“Then… why aren’t you acting like everyone else?”

Heeseung gives you a small smile, and you feel goosebumps jolting through your body. “Because you’re you. You’re a celebrity, you’re a talented singer, and you’re beautiful—I admit that. But I don’t see why I have to make you uncomfortable over those facts.”

Your eyes widen, and something begins to stir in your chest. 

When you don’t reply, Heeseung’s smile shifts from something more genuine back to his polite, customer-service smile. He turns and walks away, leaving you watching him in a complete daze. 

Your heart is hammering against your chest, more violently than you expected it to. 

When was the last time someone ever saw you as just a person, not as a celebrity?  

You take a glance at Heeseung, who’s back to his work behind the counter. Suddenly, you notice everything—the way his sleeves are rolled up at just the perfect angle, the way his brows furrow when he’s focused on making another drink, and the way his black hair falls on his forehead, and the way he looks just… perfect. Cute, even. 

You remember his small smile, and the way it tingles you in a way you’ve never felt before.

Your fingers tighten around the warm mug. 

For some reason, this fuzzy feeling that’s filling up your heart feels rare. 

You don’t even realise you’ve finished your latte, and that your pavlova is completely devoured. You’re too lost in thought to even realise how much time you’ve spent in the cosy little café.

Quickly, you take your things and pull your mask up to your nose. For some reason, you hesitate as you approach the counter. 

But then, some kind of nervous energy rushes through you, and you quickly scribble a note on the napkin you’re holding. 

Thanks for your kindness. It made my day. 

You hand Heeseung the money, slipping the note with it. 

Heeseung immediately notices the napkin. He looks down, his eyes scanning the words.

When he looks back up, your eyes meet, and you give him a small eye smile. “See you next time,” you say softly. 

And for the first time in a long while, you actually mean it. 

Heeseung watches you walk out the door of his café, the small bell hanging on top of it chiming as the door closes. He leans against the counter, fingers tracing the edge of the folded napkin. Once you’re out of his sight, and the café settles back into its usual rhythm, his focus turns to the note. He unfolds the napkin, his eyes scan the neat handwriting. He chuckles—there’s something just adorable about it.

Thank you for your kindness. 

He smiles. 

It made my day. 

The quiet smile on Heeseung’s lips grows larger. His mind replays the memory of you: how you looked so at peace, sipping the hour away at the corner of the café that he worked hard to establish. He remembers looking at you, and in the midst of admiring how pretty you actually are, he realises that you’re different from what the media made you out to be. Quieter, maybe. Softer. More beautiful, definitely. Less of the dazzling, perfect, and untouchable figure he sees on the billboard everywhere he goes. Instead, you’re more… human. 

His gaze flickers to the door, where you stood a few moments ago. 

Would you come again?

He dearly hopes so. 

― © htaesan, 2025.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀want more like this? check out the 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

[r3starttt]

Abby handles all the administrative tasks, which Ellie refers to as the boring business stuff. She takes care of sales, answers calls and messages, purchases materials, and finds the best deals. Ellie focuses on the creative side, designing and arranging each bouquet. She accompanies Abby to select the most beautiful colors and patterns and gauges people's reactions to ensure they love her work as much as she does.

They have a routine, even when something unexpected occurs, they know their roles. Each morning before opening, Abby ensures the store is organized, clean, and orderly. Ellie helps too, but often she just wanders around or trails Abby like a lost puppy while munching on her 'sweet treats.' At closing time, Ellie tidies up her workspace while Abby takes out the trash. Each has their designated areas to clean and arrange, but Abby always gives the store one final check.

They enjoy inviting friends to the store. Behind the main entrance is a small inner garden, barely big enough for gatherings, but they make it work. They always have snacks and drinks on hand, mostly for themselves but also for guests.

Ellie loves offering discounts to her friends, which often earns her a stern look from Abby, signaling her to stop, but Abby never makes a big fuss about it. Unbeknownst to Ellie, if finances ever fall short, Abby would dock her own salary to make up the difference.

They give flowers for every occasion. Ellie takes this seriously, often matching flowers to the initials of whomever she'll gift them to, or researching the meanings behind different flowers and colors. Abby, on the other hand, focuses on selecting the most expensive and stylish arrangements that suit the person tastes, ensuring the gift feels personal and thoughtful.

Abby had to buy a first aid kit for Ellie, who often injures herself while working. Ellie keeps band-aids in her apron, and whenever the smallest hiss of pain comes from Abby—which is rare—Ellie rushes to make sure she's okay.

||||| Pinterest

[madman479r]

Behind Closed Doors NSFW Ship Table

Willow X Jaune X Kali

Explanations:

After the events of Volume 9, Jaune returns to Remnant with RWBY but maintains his age.

During volume 9 back on Remnant, Willow and Kali (who is a widow) take solace in each others company, both grieving the loss of their daughters.

Once Jaune returns to Remnant, both Willow and Kali have an interest in Jaune, finding him handsome. Jaune offers to help Willow and Kali who help coordinate and help the refugees, even acting as a body guard against both racists and xenophobs alike.

One night Jaune joined Willow in sharing a drink of past trauma, which Kali surprisingly joined, one thing led to another and the trio woke up together in bed and naked. Since then they entered a three-way relationship.

Top 3 Turn-Ons

Jaune

Being teased by Kali and Willow, seeing them sway their hips and show off their asses & tits. How they press up against him and whisper lewd things into his ear.

Revealing clothes. For Kali, it'll be either a more scandalous version of her outfit, sexy harem dancing clothes and most famous is when she wears only an apron. Willow goes for short skirts with no underwear, white tops with no bras, and lingerie.

Nothing gets Jaune more turned on than seeing Kali and Willow be intimate, watching the pair make-out Lewdly with roaming hands and hearing them giggle and moan.

Willow

Willow has been chased after by many suitors but she knows they're all after her money, a facade used against her for their own benefits. So having a genuine romantic time with Jaune and Kali and being shown true love gets her in the mood.

Her neck is a sensitive spot for her, so having Jaune and Kali kiss, bite, suck, lick and nibble on it makes her a moaning wet mess.

Willow was raised to be prime and proper, so having her body be molested and touched in such a forbidden way is a massive turn on for her.

Kali

Her ears are sensitive so feeling Jaune or Willow pet and rub them gets her purring, but feeling their mouths on her cat ears gets her pussy purring.

Kali is always ready and willing for sex, so Jaune and Willow could simply say they want her or even just pull her somewhere and she's down to fuck.

The famous Bellabooty deserves to be worshipped, so having Jaune and Willow show their appreciation for her ass by smacking it is enough for Kali.

Has More Relationship Experience:

Kali and Willow have both been married and had some partners before that, whereas Jaune hasn't ever had a romantic relationship.

Is more curious to try new things:

Jacques only really had sex with Willow to produce an heir, so Willow never got to experiment or try out her toys and kinks. With Jaune and Kali being so willing and open, Willow is happy to try new things

First to kiss/Make-out:

Kali is the more openly affectionate of the trio, so she's first to kiss, which normally turns into a heated make-out, no matter who sees it.

More likely to initiate/take the initiative:

Once again, Kali is the most affectionate, so she's definitely the one who'd initiate sexy times.

More likely to dress up:

Willow's wardrobe is filled with the most expensive and elegant clothes, while Kali has more exotic and stylish outfits, so the pair certainly like to look their best. Whereas Jaune is kinda basic, going with practicality over style.

More likely to use toys:

The amount of toys Kali and Willow have could fill a porn store. Kali's favourite kind of toy is a butt plug, in private it's a cat tail, in public it's a regular butt plug. Willow prefers to use vibrating egg toys on her nipples and clit.

More likely to do dirty talk/sext and send lewd pics:

Kali loves to talk dirty, knowing it'll rile up Jaune and Willow, especially Jaune. She also likes to send naughty pictures to the pair whenever they're away, loving that it gets them ready when they get home.

Has higher sex drive:

Kali is damn near horny 24/7, especially with the toys she has stuff in her cunt and ass.

Is more sensitive:

Willow is the one who cums the easiest, especially when she's mercilessly double teamed by Jaune and Kali.

Enjoys spoiling/satisfying the other:

Jaune wants to leave her girlfriends satisfied and goes above and beyond to do so. He knows the pair have high sex drives and are kinky so he wants to prove he can keep up with them. Especially with Willow, who had an unsatisfactory marriage.

[ponyosmom35]

birthdays

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Liability chapter thirty three

synopsis: reader celebrates Simon's birthday, refusing to let him ignore his day.

Liability series

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains as Simon awoke to find himself alone in his apartment. It was his birthday, a day he had become accustomed to treating like any other—without fanfare or celebration, as there were no family or close friends to share it with.

As he wandered into the kitchen, expecting just another ordinary day, hoping to get through it as painlessly as possible. Simon was met with a heartwarming surprise. She was adorning the room with colorful balloons and carefully setting up a beautifully decorated cake on the table.

Simon couldn't help but stare, a mixture of confusion and delight playing on his features. "love, what's going on here?" he asked, a touch of panic in his voice.

Turning around with a beaming smile, she exclaimed, "Happy birthday, Si!"

His eyes widened as he took in the sight. Balloons of all hues danced in the air, and the aroma of the freshly baked cake filled the room. Simon felt a lump forming in his throat as he struggled to find words.

"love, I... I didn't expect..." he began, the vulnerability in his voice apparent.

She, sensed his emotions, cut him off with a surprised yelp. "I wanted your day to be special, Si."

As the realization sank in, Simon's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Thank you, baby," he managed to say, the weight of her gesture lifting the familiar darkness that shrouded his birthdays.

She approached him, wrapping him in a warm embrace. "You deserve all the happiness today and every day. So my first gift to you is that I am all yours all day, whatever you want to do, we do!"

Touched by her understanding and kindness, Simon nodded, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude. She encouraged him to unwrap his gifts, each one carefully chosen to reflect his interests and passions.

The first package revealed a soft, stylish sweater. "I thought you might like something cozy, the winters here can be rough" she said, a twinkle in her eye.

Next came a set of sleek cooking knives and a 'kiss the chef' apron. "For your culinary adventures," she remarked, knowing how much he loved to cook.

A pair of high-quality running shoes followed, acknowledging his commitment to staying fit. "I saw your running shoes and noticed how sad they looked, so I did some research and saw a lot of really good reviews. So you’ll have to try them out and let me know if they work" she added with a playful grin.

As the gifts continued, Simon's heart swelled with love. A massive package of his favorite Oreos, a fancy bottle of olive oil, and a handcrafted crochet blanket for the cold nights on base—all thoughtful reminders of her consideration and care.

The final gift brought a blush to Simon's cheeks as he discovered intimate Polaroid pictures of her. "A little something personal," she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"love, these are... wow," Simon stammered, both surprised and touched.

She smiled lovingly. "Happy birthday baby!"

She grabs his arm and stands on her tip toes to kiss his cheek. In that moment, surrounded by love and thoughtful gestures. He was unsure how to react, never seeming to be able to find the words to express how much it meant to him. As he looked down at her she smiles “I know” 

She responds, as if she could read his thoughts. Confirming that he didn’t need to say anything. He picks her up and sets her on the counter, he kisses her gently and pushes a strand of her hair behind her ear. “So you said we can do anything I want?”

“I did yes”

“Lets play a game” he murmurs against her lips

“What is it?”

“Simon says” he smirks

stay tuned for part two, simon says (18+)

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

First Kiss- libby x nash

authors note: i just realized i have never made a libby x nash fic before… which should be a criminal offence honestly. anyway here it is, and if you can’t tell by the title, it’s libby and nash’s first kiss 😉😉

——————————————————————————

Libby poured all the wet ingredients into her bowl, while Nash focused on the dry ones. Even though she hated to admit it because she knew Avery was going through her own problems, she had been stressed with all the drama surrounding Drake, and Nash had offered to bake with her. He warned her that he was a terrible baker, but Libby assured him that all would be smooth sailing. She handed her bowl to Nash, who took it with a low hum as his fingers brushed hers, sending electricity down Libbys spine, before he poured Libby’s bowl into his bigger bowl. Libby reached into one of the cupboards to get an apron, when she heard something being plugged in. The electric mixer. Libbys eyes widened as she rushed over to Nash.

“Wait!” She exclaimed, racing over to him as she grabbed his arm. He turned and raised a brow at her, and her hand on his arm, and Libby dropped her arm back to her side, his sudden attentiveness making her draw back the slightest bit. Then he smiled, slow and smooth, as he spoke.

“What’s the problem, darling?” He asked her, turning to face her more clearly. Stubbornness rose in her chest.

“Not your darling. Also,” She said, going back to grab the apron she dropped before handing it to him. “Mixing in the dry ingredients without an apron would mean getting powder all over your white shirt. You need an apron.” His sudden eye contact made her feel nervous, so she turned her head. She thought that would be the end of it, before Nash’s rough, yet gentle, hands took her chin and moved her face to look back at his. Heat rose in her cheeks as Nash held her gaze again, before pulling his hand away, tying the apron around his waist, and speaking.

“Good to know. Hey, how’s this look?” Nash asked, pulling his arms out to the side so Libby could see his apron with ducks littered all over it. Libby laughed into her palm before speaking, trying to hide her giggles.

“Very stylish.” She said, her mouth fighting back a smile. He smiled at her, except this time, his teeth showed, as well as one dimple on his left cheek. God, why did he have to have those kind of smiles? Libby mentally cursed herself, before turning around and going back to what she was doing.

“Okay, get mixing now on the lowest setting for two minutes.” She ordered.

“Yes, ma’am.” He replied. The comment made her cheeks blush the slightest bit, but she just shook her head as she continued to clean her counter. Libby put all the dishes in the sink, before getting a spray bottle and spraying the entire counter down. She went to grab the cloth, but she couldn’t find it. Then she turned her head, and realized it was in the cupboard by Nash’s side of the kitchen. Okay, Libby thought. I just have to go past him. No sweat. Libby sauntered towards Nash, before he suddenly turned off his mixer.

“Hey, Libby, do you think that’s-“ Nash didn’t get to finish before whirling around, so quick that Libby jumped with a slight shout. Her feet tried to balance herself, but she noticed, with an internal groan, that there was some water spilt on the ground. Her feet slipped on the water and she started to fall backwards, before an arm wrapped around her waist, catching her one handed and pulling her up.

“Hey, did you slip, darl? Are you alright?” Nash’s soft voice drawled, his arm still wrapped around her waist as he turned to look at her. Libby tilted her head up and met his eyes too, and she was sure right then and there that there was a major blush on her face.

“Um- yeah! Yeah, I’m fine.” Libby stuttered, pulling herself out of Nash’s ridiculously muscular arms and grabbing the cloth out of the cupboard as fast as possible. “I just needed this.” She waved the cloth in the air, before feeling like she had to say more from Nash’s raised brow.

“I didn’t fall on purpose.” Libby blurted suddenly. That made both of Nash’s eyebrows raise, as he put down the mixer and crossed his arms, looking stupidly attractive despite the dumb apron. “It wasn’t a whole bit where you could catch me, you know.” Nash’s sudden smirk and raised brow told Libby everything she needed to know. She had said too much. Oh, why didn’t you just leave it at that? Libby cursed herself as she scrambled to explain.

“Well, that’s not what I meant, I just meant that-“ Libby cut herself off as she realized that no matter how much she explained, it was not going to get any less weird. “Never mind, bye.” Libby was about to scramble off to the counter she was trying to clean when Nash suddenly chuckled and took ahold of her hips, drawing her back. Libbys brain blanked as it finally caught up with what was going on: Nash’s hands, Her hips.

“Now hold on there,” Nash drawled teasingly, stepping closer as he crossed his arms and held her gaze. “You saying you fell on purpose over there, Grambs?” Libby’s heart raced once he took that step, her brain too broken by his close vicinity and earthy smell to focus on anything else.

“No. I’m not saying anything,” Libby huffed, before crossing her arms this time. “Now keep mixing. You still have a minute left, and we’re not screwing up these cupcakes because of you.” Nash guffawed as he tilted his head at her, laughing.

“Ouch. And alright, I’ll keep mixing.” He said with a smile.

“Good.” Libby said simply. She turned as she wiped down her counter, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see and feel Nash’s eyes on her. She tried her very hardest not to blush as she noticed the way his gaze raked down her body, before moving to his cupcake batter and mixing it. There was a pull to him that Libby had noticed since the first time they met. Despite everything she told herself, Libby hadn’t been able to get him off her mind. It was insane.

“Am I done mixing yet, chef?” Nash asked her suddenly. Libby turned around, walked over to him, studied his batter, then nodded.

“That looks about right.” She replied. “Now, grab that batter scoop from the pantry and try to get an even amount into every cupcake hole on the pan.” She glanced at her counter for a moment, and noticed Nash walking towards her. She turned her head and caught his gaze, watching him come closer and closer. A breath catches in her throat as he dips his head. And, just when Libby thinks he’s about to kiss her, just when she almost hopes he’s about to kiss her, he turns his head, facing his lips towards her ear, before whispering.

“Batter scoop.” He whispers teasingly. Then, he pulls open the drawer right beside her and grabs it, lifting his head and smiling at her flushed cheeks. He walks away, leaving her stunned as the blush spreads to the back of her neck.

“What was that?” Libby croaks out before she can stop herself.

“What was what?” He replies without missing a beat. Libby turned to look at him.

“That!” She said, pointing at the drawer where the batter scoop was. “That entire-“ She paused. Interaction, she was about to finish, before shaking her head and continuing.

“Nevermind.” She finished lamely. She continued to wipe down her counter, although she knew it was already clean.

“You mean me flirting with you?” Libby paused. She turned to look at where the voice came from, only to find Nash crossing his arms with his body turned towards her. Libby paused, before nodding quickly, blue hair getting into her face as she again wiped the counter down.

“I like doing it because you get all red.” He teased, washing his hands as he put the batter scoop into the sink. Libby’s heart thumped in her chest, as she answered.

“So?” She asked him, a good two syllables too high. He smiled at her sweet and slowly, holding her gaze as he took a few steps forward.

“So, maybe I like seeing you get all red.” He said. Libby couldn’t breathe, or let alone speak, so all she did was shake her head as she looked away from him. Suddenly, Nash took ahold of her wrist, pulling her forward.

“Don’t do that.” He warned her softly. Libby’s heart thumped louder, so loud that she was sure Nash could hear it.

“Do what?” She breathed. He pressed a thumb onto her wrist softly, holding her gaze.

“Diminish me every time I try to get close to you. I understand that this whole Drake situation has been hard, so just say the word and I won’t talk to you like this again.” Nash told her softly. Libby froze. Despite everything she told herself, Nash’s comments and flirting techniques were the only things keeping her from burrowing herself into a hole and never coming back out. Without him, she wouldn’t be able to hold her head up since everything was so difficult recently. As if possessed by something, she suddenly rose to the top of her toes, and pressed a soft kiss on Nash’s lips. Despite the feeling swirling through her entire body, Nash’s expression made her freeze. Did she do something wrong?

“Oh god.” She said suddenly, realizing what just happened. “I’m so sorry, I don’t- I don’t know what happened.” She pressed a hand to her mouth in shock, but Nash was quick to remove it. And with a dip of his head, his lips met hers, and he pressed a soft kiss onto them. Electricity flowed through her spine as she gazed up at him, watching him take a step forward and run his hands through her hair.

“Is this fine?” He murmured, coming closer. Too full of emotions to speak, Libby just nodded, and suddenly, Nash pulled her in closer, kissing her. It didn’t take long for the kiss to deepen. The hands that were in her hair moved down to her waist, and Libby’s hands moved to the back of his neck, feeling the ends of his hair. Soft brushes became more passionate, and although Libby made a sound in the back of her throat that might be seen as embarrassing, Nash just took it in with a low hum. In a flurried movement of kissing and stumbling, Libby felt her feet get lift slightly off the floor, before she felt herself get placed on the counter. She separated from him, although she was reluctant to, to look at her surroundings. Nash grinned at her, before speaking.

“So we’re at the same height.” His rough drawl explained, before taking her by the chin and pulling her in again. Nash’s body moved closer as he kissed her, and Libby locked her legs around him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she continued to kiss him passionately. Nash’s lips suddenly switched from kissing her to trailing kisses down her jaw. Libby shivered under his touch, and, just before he could plant a kiss on the end of her jawline, a loud clearing of the throat interrupted them. Libby immediately snapped her head up, although Nash was more reluctant to separate, before feeling her spine get coated with horror as she realized who it was. Alisa Ortega, Nash’s ex fiancé.

“Lee-Lee.” Nash greeted awkwardly. Libby knew how bad this looked. It hadn’t been too long since they had broken up the engagement, and since she was kissing him like this in a very public place, it felt like she was flaunting it in her face. Oh, god.

Alisa opened her mouth to speak, but Libby interrupted her.

“Is it about Avery? I better go see if she’s okay.” Libby rushed to say, hopping off the counter. Alisa narrowed her eyes at her as she began to speak, but Libby just waved her off. “Thank you so much Alisa, and um-“ She trailed off awkwardly.

“Thanks, bye.” She finished shyly, before speed walking off in the direction of her sister’s room, not wanting to admit that it upset her much more than she’d like to think that her kiss got interrupted.

Maybe, Libby thought with the slightest giddy feeling, cowboys like him weren’t so bad.

——————————————————————————

btw this fic takes place at the dead end of the inheritance games and ties into the reason as to why alisa is so awkward with them in the hawthorne legacy ^^

hope you enjoyed!! <33💗

[miikishii]

yuuta okkotsu bf hcs!!

masterlist

I was just thinking about him because he's a cutie patootie so surprise! (I haven't read jjk in so long I'm sorry if he's out of character I'm literally just trying my best I promise)

sfw! and also probably typos

probably pretty possessive, but he's not crazy, just wants people to know about your relationship.

he's comfortable enough with himself that he doesn't get super jealous, but if he does you'll always know.

Good communicator!!

You always know what's up with him, he doesn't want to leave you in the dark about anything.

He very much hopes you'll do the same.

Def a big physical affection guy, but he's not super obvious with it in public

not opposed to PDA, but doesn't like to be "in people's faces about it"

will definitely hold hands and/or give you a kiss on the cheek or hand

LOVES sleepovers.

your place or his, doesn't matter.

Just loves the thought of being next to you.

adores waking up next to you, especially if he wakes up before you.

just lies on his back and closes his eyes, not expecting to fall back asleep, he's just really calm and happy in moments like that.

Likes to have stay-at-home dates (i.e. watching a movie, playing board games, etc.)

but he understands the appeal of going out to someplace nice (or casual!) and wants to do so, just not as often as staying home.

LOVE LOVE LOVES when you wear his clothes.

doesn't matter if it's a shirt, sweater, pair of sweats, or a bracelet

Speaking of bracelets, if you wear jewelry he'd probably buy you something to wear often. Something really simple that you can wear with anything.

Will listen to you talk about literally anything.

Doesn't maintain eye contact too hard, but you KNOW he's listening.

sometimes gets sidetracked when he looks at your face and forgets to listen because he's just thinking that you're beautiful no matter what you do.

may blurt that out when you finish talking.

wants to bake or cook with you.

considers buying you matching aprons.

His hands are always cold (he looks like the type idk)

Will consider your opinion to be final on pretty much anything. If you say something is ugly he 100% agrees. If you say something is stupid it's the dumbest thing he's ever seen.

It's not that he's always so easily swayed by others' opinions, yours just matters a lot to him.

wants you to pick his outfits sometimes.

he just thinks it would be cute and he's curious to know what you like on him.

probably asks you to buy clothes for him because he's not all that stylish.

Not a big texter, prefers to call, but he always answers his phone pretty fast.

Will, however, send you pictures of things he sees that he thinks you'd like or would find funny.

supports your rights and your wrongs

note: I hope this was at least somewhat accurate lmao

[softlypossessive]

Hello! May I request a Hawks x reader fic where the reader teaches him how to cook their favorite dish? The dish can be whatever you like!

A Recipe for Trouble (and Something Like Love)

♡ Characters: Keigo Takami (Hawks) x gn!Reader ♡ Warnings: Domestic fluff, playful banter, shirtless Hawks in an apron, food-themed innuendo, emotional vulnerability, light kisses, mild spice (heh badum tsss ), love as comfort food ♡ WC: ~1.8k ♡ Notes: Thank you for the adorable request! I meant to write a quick fluffy moment and somehow ended up in my feelings over tomato stew and apron Hawks. This was so fun to write—Keigo is chaos in the kitchen but he means so well. Hope you enjoy this messy lil love letter disguised as a cooking lesson!

𓏸⋆｡˚☁️˚｡⋆𓏸

The kitchen was a warzone of domesticity, a cramped little corner of your apartment bathed in the golden glow of late afternoon sun streaming through the window above the sink. 

Dishes were piled haphazardly in the sink, a testament to the chaos Keigo Takami — better known as Hawks — had unleashed in his valiant attempt to conquer your childhood recipe. 

The air was thick with the scent of sautéed garlic, simmering tomatoes, and a faint whiff of charred onion, a casualty of his earlier bravado. 

Keigo stood there like he’d been born to rule this domain, though the evidence suggested otherwise. Your second-favorite apron — the one with cartoon chickens dancing across a faded yellow background — hung crookedly around his lean waist, the strings knotted in a messy bow that barely held it in place.

No shirt, of course — why would Hawks, the Number Two Hero, bother with something as mundane as a shirt when he could flaunt the sculpted lines of his torso, all sharp edges and golden skin kissed by the sun? The beautiful bastard.

His blonde hair was a tousled disaster, sticking up in wild tufts as if he’d just flown through a storm, and those amber eyes of his — sharp as a predator’s — were locked on the onions he was brutalizing with a kitchen knife. 

The blade flashed in his hand, wielded with the same reckless confidence he brought to every fight, though here it was woefully misplaced. 

A single bulb hung overhead, its light catching on the chipped paint of the cabinets, giving the whole scene a lived-in, cozy charm that felt distinctly yours. 

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, a grin tugging at your lips as a chunk of onion launched itself across the room, skittering under the fridge like a fugitive. 

“Are you… fighting those onions?” you asked, watching him hack away.

“I’m chopping them with style,” he shot back, his voice dripping with mock indignation, though his technique was anything but stylish. 

Another piece flew, bouncing off the wall with a soft thwack.

“Totally intentional.” 

You sighed, the sound exaggerated for effect, and pushed off the counter. 

“Keigo. You’re holding the knife wrong. You’re supposed to curl your fingers, not — baby, you’re gonna lose a thumb.” 

He paused mid-slice, tilting his head to fix you with a lopsided smirk, the kind that made your heart do stupid little flips despite yourself. 

“I have like three knives in my belt at all times, and you’re worried about this one?”

“I like your thumbs,” you muttered, closing the distance between you. 

Your hands brushed his as you reached for the knife, guiding his fingers into a safer grip — curling them under, away from the blade’s path. His skin was warm, calloused from years of hero work, and the contact sent a quiet thrill up your spine. 

He went still under your touch, his smirk softening into something quieter, more real. 

“You’re really good at this,” he said, his voice low, his eyes tracing the curve of your jaw, the way your hair fell into your face, instead of the cutting board.

You scoffed, trying to play it off, though your cheeks warmed. 

“Chopping vegetables? It’s not that impressive.”

“No,” he murmured, his tone deepening, “letting someone in like this.” 

Your breath caught, snagging in your throat like a thread pulled too tight. 

This whole thing — the dish, the cooking lesson — was just a whim, a half-joking offer to share a piece of your past: a stew your mom used to make, rich with tomatoes and herbs, the kind of comfort that lingered in your memory like a soft blanket. 

You’d laughed when you suggested teaching him, picturing the great Hawks fumbling with a spatula. 

But now, with him standing barefoot in your kitchen, looking at you like the peeling linoleum and the hiss of the stove was some kind of sacred ground, it hit you harder than you’d braced for.

“I just wanted to share something with you,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper, your fingers still lingering on his. “Something that makes me feel at home.” 

Keigo’s grin softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re my home.” 

The words landed like a punch, stealing the air from the room, leaving only the sizzle of the pan behind him and the wild thud of your heartbeat hammering against your ribs. 

You stared at him, caught off guard by how easily he said it, how sure he sounded.

You cleared your throat, nudging him with your elbow to break the tension before it swallowed you whole. 

“Alright, Mr. Sentimental. Get back to work. Stir that before it burns.” 

“Yes, chef,” he quipped, snapping into a dramatic salute with the spatula, the motion so over-the-top you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. 

He turned back to the stove, stirring the sauce with exaggerated care, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration. 

It was absurd — Hawks, the fastest man alive, treating a pot of stew like it was a life-or-death mission. His wings, tucked tight against his back, twitched every now and then, a few stray feathers fluttering to the floor, catching the light like tiny embers.

The kitchen wasn’t big — barely enough room for two people to move without bumping into each other — but it felt alive with him in it. 

The counter was a mess of spilled spices and vegetable scraps, a cutting board stained with onion juice, and a jar of dried basil you’d knocked over in your haste to save the garlic from his earlier assault. 

He’d insisted on helping, shrugging off your protests with a lazy “I’ve got this, babe,” even as he’d promptly set a dish towel on fire trying to light the stove. 

You’d laughed until your sides hurt, swatting him with the singed fabric while he grinned like a kid caught sneaking cookies. 

Now, the chaos had settled into something softer. The stew was coming together — slightly lumpy, the tomatoes a little unevenly chopped, but fragrant and warm, filling the room with a scent that tugged at your heartstrings as he hummed a tune you vaguely recognized from one of his patrols, something he’d picked up from a street musician downtown.

When it was done, he plated it with a flourish, the bowls mismatched and chipped from years of use, the stew sloshing a little over the edges. 

“Ta-da,” he announced, holding one out to you like it was a prize. “Michelin-star worthy, if I do say so myself.” 

You snorted, taking the bowl.

“You’re delusional.” 

“Delusionally talented,” he corrected, hopping up to sit on the counter beside you. 

You followed suit, your legs swinging in tandem, the cool edge of the counter pressing into your thighs. 

He hummed around the first taste, eyes fluttering shut for a second. 

“Damn. That’s good.”

“You made it,” you said, nudging his knee with yours. 

“We made it,” he corrected again, tapping his fork against yours with a soft clink. 

The stew was rich, a little salty from his heavy hand with the seasoning, but it hit all the right notes — warmth spreading through your chest, a taste of nostalgia wrapped in something new. 

You smiled, softer than you meant to, and he caught it, leaning in just enough that your knees bumped again. 

“Can I confess something?” he asked, his voice dipping into that playful, flirty tone that always made your pulse skip.

“Is it about the onions?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. 

He chuckled, a low, warm sound that vibrated through the space between you. “No. It’s about you.” 

You tilted your head, waiting, your fork hovering mid-air. 

He looked at the plate, then back at you, his gaze steady and unguarded. 

“I’ve done a lot of reckless things — flying into burning buildings, picking fights with villains twice my size. But learning to cook for you? Might just be the scariest. And the best.”

You froze, the fork slipping slightly in your grip.

His words hung there, simple but heavy, and before you could second-guess yourself, you grabbed the front of that ridiculous chicken apron, yanked him close, and kissed him.

It was messy and perfect — his lips tasting of garlic and tomato, a hint of the stew still lingering, warm and familiar like the dish you’d just made together. 

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer across the counter as you melted into him, his kiss carrying a hunger that belied his easy grin, a quiet intensity that made your head spin. 

When you pulled back, he was flushed, cheeks pink, eyes dazed and bright. 

He rested his forehead against yours, breathing hard, and whispered, “I burned the onions on purpose.” 

“You liar,” you laughed, the sound bubbling up despite the heat still coursing through you.

“I’d burn a hundred onions if it gets me another kiss,” he said, his grin widening, all teeth and charm. 

You kissed him again, deeper this time, your hands sliding up to tangle in his messy hair, tugging gently at the strands. 

He groaned softly into your mouth, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, and the fork clattered to the counter, forgotten as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him. 

The kitchen faded away — the mess, the smells, the hum of the city outside — until it was just the two of you, tangled up in each other, the taste of home on your lips. 

His wings flexed behind him, brushing the cabinets with a soft rustle, and you felt the tickle of a feather against your arm, a reminder of who he was — wild, untamed, but here, with you, soft in a way he didn’t show the world.

“Keigo,” you murmured against his lips, pulling back just enough to catch your breath. “You’re a terrible cook.” 

He laughed, the sound bright and unguarded, his nose brushing yours. 

“Yeah, but I’ve got other skills, babe. Wanna see?” 

You swatted his chest, but he caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, his eyes glinting with mischief. 

“I mean it, though,” he said, softer now. “This — cooking with you, being here — it’s better than any mission. You’re better.” 

Your heart squeezed, and you leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder, his bare skin warm under your cheek. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you whispered, and he chuckled, wrapping an arm around you, holding you close as the sun dipped lower outside, painting the room in shades of orange and pink.

The stew sat cooling in its bowls, but neither of you cared. 

Later, you’d drag him to the couch, curl up under a blanket, and argue over what movie to watch — him pushing for action, you vetoing anything with explosions — but for now, you stayed there, perched on the counter, legs tangled, sharing a bowl of slightly burnt stew and a love that felt like it could outshine even the brightest hero’s spotlight. 

With Keigo, it was always like this — messy, unexpected, and so damn sweet you couldn’t imagine it any other way.

𓏸⋆｡˚☁️˚｡⋆𓏸

[double-dare-designs]

Festive Holiday Design

[jinnieboosworld]

Pup Primp Palace

Younghoon x Female Reader

@deoboyznet @a-dream-bookmark @k-labels

Genre: Fluff, Romance

Summary: Every month Younghoon takes his dog bori to a groomer but when his usual groomer closes, he’s forced to go to another groomer by the name of Pup Primp Palace. After a grooming session Younghoon realizes his dog has taken quite the liking to a particular groomer.

Part of The MeetCute Series

Word Count: 3354

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Younghoon stepped out of his car, Bori eagerly trotting at his side, her leash taut as she sniffed the air. The pastel sign of Pup Primp Palace gleamed under the late morning sun, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit apprehensive. After years of sticking to the same groomer, the closure of his regular spot had thrown him into unfamiliar territory.

“Let’s hope this place works out,” he muttered, giving Bori a quick scratch behind her ears before pushing open the door.

The soft chime of the bell was met with a soothing ambiance: gentle lighting, lavender-scented air, and soft instrumental music playing in the background. A shelf by the entrance displayed neatly arranged pet accessories, and the counter was adorned with framed photos of dogs sporting everything from bows to stylish cuts.

“Hi there! Welcome to Pup Primp Palace!”

Younghoon turned to see you—Y/N—standing behind the counter, a warm smile lighting up your face. You wore a simple apron over your casual outfit, your hair tied back in a way that accentuated the kindness in your expression. “What can I do for you today?”

“Uh, I have an appointment for Bori,” Younghoon said, gesturing to the cute dog who was now wagging her tail furiously.

“Bori,” you repeated, crouching down to meet the dog at eye level. “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing?” You extended a hand slowly, letting her sniff before giving her a gentle scratch under the chin.

Younghoon was taken aback. Bori wasn’t typically this friendly with strangers, but here she was, leaning into your touch as if she’d known you forever.

“She’s, uh, usually a little shy,” he admitted, watching the interaction with a mix of surprise and relief.

“Well, she’s not shy now,” you said with a chuckle, standing back up. “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of her. Just fill out this form, and we’ll get started.”

Younghoon nodded, moving to the clipboard you handed him. As he filled out the necessary details, he couldn’t help but glance at you occasionally. There was something calm and grounded in the way you moved, effortlessly handling a Yorkie in the background while chatting with another client.

“Alright,” you said, stepping out from behind the counter and taking Bori’s leash. “We’ll call you when she’s ready. Should be about an hour.”

“Got it,” Younghoon replied, feeling an odd pang of hesitation as he handed her over. Bori, however, didn’t share his reluctance, happily following you to the back like she’d found a new best friend.

When Younghoon returned an hour later, the first thing he noticed was Bori’s coat gleaming like never before. Her trimmed fur was impossibly soft, and the pink bow on her collar was a cute, unexpected touch.

“Wow,” Younghoon said, crouching to greet his dog. “You look amazing, Bori. They really outdid themselves.”

“She’s an angel,” your voice chimed in from behind him. “Super well-behaved. You’re lucky.”

Younghoon stood, meeting your gaze, and for a moment, the air between you felt different. It wasn’t just a polite exchange—it was something warmer, something that made his heart skip a beat.

“She’s lucky to have you taking care of her,” he said, smiling back.

You laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Well, she makes it easy. And I think she might already be planning her next visit.”

As if on cue, Bori looked up at you and wagged her tail, clearly smitten.

“Looks like it,” Younghoon agreed, feeling a strange sense of comfort in the way you interacted with his dog—and with him.

As he left the salon, Bori trotting happily beside him, Younghoon found himself glancing back at the window, where you were already preparing for your next client. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about today felt different.

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⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Younghoon hadn’t expected to feel nervous walking back into Pup Primp Palace a month later. It was just a dog grooming appointment, after all—routine. But as he pushed open the door and heard the familiar chime, his pulse quickened, and he caught himself scanning the room for you.

You were there, of course, standing by the front desk with your back turned as you jotted something down. It wasn’t until you turned and caught sight of him that he felt the nerves subside, replaced by a warmth he couldn’t quite explain.

“Hey, Bori!” you greeted with a grin, crouching down to greet the excited pup. “Back for another spa day, huh?”

Younghoon chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, she’s been acting like she owns the place ever since the last visit. I think you spoiled her.”

“She deserves it,” you said, scratching Bori’s ears affectionately. “She’s such a sweetheart.”

As you straightened up, you caught Younghoon’s eye, and for a brief moment, the air between you felt a little heavier, a little more charged than last time. He thought about saying something—anything—but before he could, you stepped behind the counter to grab the clipboard.

“Same routine as last time?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he replied, still trying to shake off the odd flutter in his chest. “Whatever magic you worked before, just do that again.”

You laughed, a soft sound that made his lips twitch into a smile. “Got it. Bori’s in good hands.”

He handed over the leash, and just like the first time, Bori followed you without hesitation, wagging her tail like she’d been reunited with an old friend. Younghoon watched until you disappeared into the back, feeling a strange sense of contentment.

The hour passed slower than it should have. Younghoon found himself checking the time repeatedly, then wandering into a nearby café to wait. He ordered a latte and sat by the window, scrolling aimlessly through his phone but not really absorbing anything.

His mind kept drifting back to you—how effortlessly you’d connected with Bori, how your smile had lingered just a little longer than he expected. He wasn’t sure why he was overthinking a simple grooming appointment, but something about you had planted itself firmly in his thoughts.

By the time the hour was up, he was already back at the salon, leaning against the counter as he waited.

“Here she is!”

Your voice drew his attention, and he straightened as you emerged from the back, holding Bori, who looked as pristine as ever. Her coat gleamed, her little paws perfectly trimmed, and she even had a new pink bandana tied around her neck.

“You really go all out,” Younghoon said, smiling as he crouched to greet his dog. “She looks amazing.”

“It’s all her,” you said, watching fondly as Bori nuzzled into his hand. “She’s got such a sweet personality—it makes the job easy.”

Younghoon glanced up at you, his smile softening. “I think you might be her favorite person now. She barely wags her tail like this at home.”

You laughed, leaning against the counter. “What can I say? I’ve got a way with dogs.”

“I noticed,” he said, standing up again. “Maybe I should book myself in for a grooming. You know, see if I walk out looking half as good as she does.”

The joke slipped out before he could stop himself, and he immediately regretted it. But to his relief, you laughed, shaking your head.

“I don’t know if I’ve got the skills for that,” you teased, crossing your arms. “But hey, if you want to come by for a bandana, I could probably make that work.”

Younghoon felt his face flush, but he managed to laugh along with you. He wasn’t used to this—flirting, or whatever this was. But it felt easy with you, natural in a way that caught him off guard.

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his voice softer now.

As he paid for the appointment and gathered Bori’s leash, he hesitated for a moment, glancing at you. There was something he wanted to say, something just on the tip of his tongue. But before he could find the words, you beat him to it.

“See you next time?” you asked, your smile warm and genuine.

“Yeah,” he said, feeling that odd flutter again. “Definitely.”

And as he walked out of Pup Primp Palace with Bori trotting happily beside him, Younghoon realized that he was already looking forward to the next visit—maybe even more than his dog was.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

A few weeks later, Younghoon found himself back at Pup Primp Palace. If he was honest with himself, he’d probably scheduled Bori’s appointment a little sooner than necessary. It wasn’t like she needed grooming again so soon—her coat was still sleek and shiny from her last visit. But when he checked the calendar and realized how long it had been since he’d seen you, he shrugged off the self-awareness and dialed the shop’s number.

Now, as he walked into the salon with Bori at his side, he felt a twinge of nervous excitement. He knew it wasn’t just about his dog anymore.

You were at the front desk again, sorting through paperwork, and the sight of you brought an involuntary smile to his face. You looked up when the chime above the door rang, your expression lighting up the way it always did when you saw Bori.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite client,” you said, crouching down to greet the dog. “Hi, Bori! Did you miss me?”

Bori wagged her tail furiously, leaning into your touch, and Younghoon couldn’t help but laugh. “I think the real question is, do you ever miss her?”

You stood up, grinning at him. “Of course I do. She’s my best customer. You’re just the guy who drives her here.”

“Ouch,” Younghoon said, feigning a wounded expression. “I see how it is. Bori gets all the credit.”

You laughed, and the sound of it eased some of the tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying. “All right, let’s get her ready for another spa day. Same as usual?”

“Same as usual,” he confirmed, handing over the leash.

This time, though, when you walked away with Bori, Younghoon didn’t leave immediately. Instead, he lingered near the counter, pretending to scroll through his phone as he tried to figure out how to ask you a question he’d been mulling over for days.

He wasn’t entirely sure if it was appropriate—or smart—to ask out someone who groomed his dog. But the connection he felt with you was undeniable, and every time he left the shop, he found himself replaying your conversations in his mind.

After a few minutes, you returned to the front desk, wiping your hands on a towel. “She’s all settled in,” you said. “I’ll give you a call when she’s ready.”

“Actually…” Younghoon began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.

You tilted your head, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “Actually…?”

“I was just wondering,” he said, clearing his throat awkwardly, “if you’d, um, ever want to grab a coffee sometime? You know, outside of here. Just… as friends or something.”

For a moment, there was silence, and Younghoon braced himself for rejection. But then your lips curved into a smile, soft and a little surprised.

“Coffee, huh?” you said, crossing your arms. “Is this your way of trying to steal Bori’s spot as my favorite?”

He laughed, relieved that you didn’t seem uncomfortable. “Maybe. Is it working?”

“Hmm,” you said, pretending to consider it. “It might be. But I think I’ll need to do a thorough evaluation before I decide.”

“Fair enough,” he said, his confidence growing. “Does this mean I passed the first round?”

You nodded, leaning against the counter. “Sure. Why not? Coffee sounds nice.”

“Great,” he said, trying not to sound too eager. “I’ll, uh, text you or something to figure out a time?”

You grabbed a business card from the counter and handed it to him, your smile widening. “Here. Now you’ve got my number.”

As Younghoon left the shop, his heart was lighter than it had been in weeks. It wasn’t a date—not officially, anyway. But it was a start. And as he thought about your laugh, your smile, and the way you made him feel at ease, he couldn’t help but think it was the start of something good.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Younghoon couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this nervous about something as simple as coffee. It wasn’t even a date—he’d made sure to keep the invitation casual. But as he stood outside the little café where you’d agreed to meet, adjusting the collar of his jacket for the fifth time, it definitely felt like a date.

He spotted you through the glass window first. You were already seated at a table by the window, scrolling through your phone with a calm ease that made him feel even more self-conscious. You weren’t trying too hard, yet you looked effortlessly charming, wearing a simple sweater that complemented the soft glow of the late afternoon light streaming in.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside and walked toward you. The moment you looked up and smiled, his nerves eased just a little.

“You made it,” you said, standing up briefly to greet him. “I was starting to think Bori might’ve convinced you to stay home.”

He laughed, pulling out a chair to sit across from you. “She tried, but I told her I’d make it up to her later. Maybe an extra-long walk or something.”

“Good,” you said, your lips curving into a grin. “Because if you bailed, I might’ve had to demote you from favorite human status.”

“You’re already ranking me?” he teased.

“Oh, definitely. But don’t worry. You’re doing pretty well so far.”

The conversation flowed easily from there. You talked about everything from funny stories about clients at the shop to your shared love for dogs. Younghoon found himself relaxing more with every word, marveling at how natural it felt to talk to you.

At some point, the conversation turned to Bori.

“She really does love you,” he said, stirring his latte absently. “I mean, I’ve never seen her take to anyone like that before. It’s a little unfair, honestly. I’ve had her for years, and you win her over in, what, ten minutes?”

You laughed, setting your mug down. “Dogs just have good instincts. Maybe she knows I’m a good person.”

“She’s definitely onto something,” he said, the words slipping out before he could think better of them.

You paused for a moment, your expression softening. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

“It’s just the truth,” he said, shrugging.

The moment hung in the air, a subtle shift that neither of you acknowledged directly but both of you felt.

“So,” you said, breaking the tension with a smile, “what made you pick Pup Primp Palace anyway? Aside from the fact that your usual place closed, I mean.”

He hesitated, considering how much he wanted to admit. “Honestly? It was the name. It just sounded… fun. Like a place where people really care about dogs.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” you said, chuckling. “We do. And I’m glad you found us. I think Bori’s glad, too.”

“Yeah,” he said, meeting your eyes. “So am I.”

The two of you fell into another easy rhythm of conversation, laughing over shared stories and teasing each other like old friends. But underneath it all, Younghoon couldn’t ignore the growing feeling in his chest—a quiet, steady warmth that had been missing for a long time.

When the coffee shop began to fill up with the after-work crowd, you glanced at your watch and sighed. “I should probably get going soon. Early shift tomorrow.”

Younghoon nodded, though he felt a pang of disappointment. “Right. Of course. Wouldn’t want to keep you from Bori’s next spa day.”

You laughed, standing up and gathering your things. “Thanks for the coffee, Younghoon. I had a really nice time.”

“Me too,” he said, rising to meet you. “We should do this again sometime.”

You paused, your smile turning a little shy. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

As you walked out of the café and waved goodbye, Younghoon stood there for a moment, replaying the conversation in his mind. He knew it was still too early to tell where this was going, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was on the right path.

And as he headed home to Bori, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Younghoon wasn’t sure what to expect the next time he brought Bori to Pup Primp Palace. After your coffee meeting, there had been a subtle shift between the two of you—something neither of you outright addressed, but it was there nonetheless. A lingering warmth in the way you smiled at him. A quiet understanding in the way he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about you.

As he walked through the doors with Bori trotting happily beside him, he spotted you almost immediately. You were at the front desk, talking to a coworker, but the moment your eyes met his, your face lit up with a smile that made his chest tighten.

“Bori!” you called out, crouching down as his dog rushed to greet you. “There’s my favorite little spa guest.”

Younghoon chuckled, watching as Bori wagged her tail so hard it looked like she might take off. “I think she’s more excited to see you than she is for the grooming.”

“Can you blame her?” you teased, scratching behind Bori’s ears. “She knows she’s about to get the VIP treatment.”

You straightened up, brushing stray dog hair off your apron. “How have you two been? It feels like it’s been forever.”

“It’s only been a month,” he said, grinning. “But we’re good. She’s been demanding extra walks lately, though. I think she’s getting spoiled.”

“Sounds like she knows what she deserves,” you said, flashing him a playful look.

The easy banter between you was comforting, even as Younghoon’s mind raced with everything he wanted to say but couldn’t quite bring himself to. He watched as you led Bori to the back, chatting with her like she was an old friend, and he felt a pang of something unfamiliar—something that felt a lot like longing.

He waited in the lobby, flipping through a magazine but barely registering the words on the page. His thoughts kept drifting back to you. How you had laughed over coffee. How natural it felt to be around you. How, even now, just the sound of your voice seemed to brighten his day.

When you finally returned with Bori, freshly groomed and looking impossibly fluffy, he couldn’t help but smile. “Wow, you really outdid yourself this time,” he said, kneeling to pet her.

“She’s a star,” you said, grinning. “And she knows it.”

As he stood up, he hesitated for a moment, then glanced at you. “Hey, um… I was wondering if you’d want to do something again. Outside of, you know, this.”

You blinked, caught off guard, but your smile didn’t waver. “Like another coffee?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Or something else. Whatever you want. No pressure, of course. I just… I had a really nice time last time.”

You tilted your head, considering him for a moment, and then your smile softened. “I’d like that.”

His heart soared, but he tried to play it cool, nodding casually. “Great. Maybe next week?”

“Next week sounds perfect,” you said, handing him Bori’s leash.

As he walked out of the shop, Bori trotting happily by his side, Younghoon couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. For the first time in a long time, things felt like they were falling into place.

And as he glanced down at Bori, who was already angling for another treat, he chuckled to himself. “You’re really the best wingman, you know that?”

Bori wagged her tail in agreement, and Younghoon couldn’t help but feel grateful—not just for his loyal companion, but for the unexpected connection that had begun to blossom.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[jazziejax]

𝐈. 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

Pairings- Priest!Art Donaldson x Reader, Priest!Patrick Zwieg x Reader

Summary- Odessa and Antoinette get a creepy letter in the mail

Warnings- religious talk, swearing, inside thoughts, not well written…

Jazzie’s Notes!- I just wanna preface this with saying that I don’t really know how to write this style of writing. I have to learn to write well in first person, but then if I do that, I would have to switch person to person all the time. Let if know if this is good or not, don’t be afraid to give feedback. Also, this isn’t meant to offensive to a religious group, I am religious myself. Sorry for any spelling errors!!!

Word Count- 5,313

Antoinette’s life was far from perfect. She lived in a crappy apartment in a sketchy part of New York with barely any money to afford to live. But she tended to find the bright side of most things. She shared said apartment with her best friend, and she always dreamed of living in New York. Plus, her job was a cute diner with a surprisingly stylish apron. She felt like one of those girls in the rom-com movies. Life could be worse.

“Hi, what can I help you guys with today?” The chipper voice of the young lady said as she pulled the notepad out of her blue apron pocket. She looked expectedly around the group that sat at the diner booth.

“Uh, can we get two French toast meals with the strawberry and whipped cream on them, no bacon or eggs on one of them? And two chocolate chip pancake meals with no whipped cream, just the bananas and blueberries. Four milkshakes, one chocolate with no cherry no whipped cream, one strawberry with the cherry and whipped cream, one vanilla with just the whipped cream, and another chocolate with the cherry and the whipped cream.” Said a blonde woman in one go, before looking up to smile at the waiter.

What a…hearty breakfast. Is it even breakfast time?

The girl squinted, caught off guard by everything that was thrown at her so fast, and didn’t write anything down past the ‘no eggs no bacon’ part. “Um, okay, yeah. I totally have all of that. I’m just gonna repeat it back to make sure it’s correct.” The curly-haired waiter smiled, looking down at the small amount of words scribbled on the yellow paper. Before she could even start talking, the blonde girl spoke up again.

“Oh, no need.” She smiled sweetly, which was obviously fake and condescending by the way she then waved the girl off before continuing the conversation she was in with her friends. Antoinette's eyes darted from one person to the next, utter shock but not surprised at how they all just continued to ignore her presence. She offered a small smile, whispering a small “Okay.” Before walking off to tell Lonny what she remembered of the order.

Which also didn’t go in her favor.

“Why the hell didn’t you write it down?” The older man asked, his New York accent thick on his tongue as she looked down at the small piece of paper the girl handed him.

I totally didn’t even think of that.

“I tried, she was going too fast and wouldn’t let me stay any longer to get it correct.” The girl whined. “I can tell you what I remember from my brain.”

My brain, what am I, seven years old? I need to expand my vocabulary.

“I don’t need what you have in your brain, I need the order on paper! I’m running a restaurant here, curly fry, not a school!” The grump yelled, before moving around the kitchen to continue to cook. Antoinette just stood there, arms stiff at her sides as her eyes drifted towards the open box where the orders got dropped off to see the more than half-empty restaurant. Her brows furrowed inwards only a smidge as she looked back over at her boss.

“Lonny, they’re the only people here.” She stated. All she got in response was the slam of the man’s fist against the metal table out of frustration. Not caring, or rather not paying attention, Antoinette continued. “I mean, them and the homeless guy that sleeps in the booth at the very back. And the occasional person with a laptop to charge.” She shrugged.

Lonny then turned, glaring from afar at the girl who was at least a foot taller than him. Granted, he was a short man.

“You’re lucky I like you curlyfry.” The man grumbled. “Now write down what you can remember then get back to work.” He hissed, turning to the batter he had before him. Antoinette was almost tempted to ask, what work? but refrained from making the situation worse. “Okay.” Was all she said before starting to scribble what she caught of the order on the paper.

My handwriting is atrocious, I need to work on that. Ooh, that’s a big word. Maybe my vocabulary isn’t so terrible. Hey, they do say bad handwriting is a sign of intelligence.

“Also, can you go kick out that homeless guy?” Lonny started, talking to the girl over his shoulder.

“Why can’t you?” She immediately asked, not even thinking over the statement. The older man threw his head back, letting out a deep sigh. “Because I’m working. Ya know, the thing you don’t do.”

Antoinette softly gasped in offense, placing a hand over her heart. “I work. I’m getting this order to you right now.” She said, tripping g the paper from the bit pad and sliding it over to the order station. “Plus, Joey’s gonna be here any second for my shift to end. Although a little late. He can handle it though.”

“Yeah, but I asked you, and I want it done now.” The man spat, never once looking back at the girl as he continued to make the dough for his bread at the cooking station.

“Well, I can’t because I have to wait.” She said, starting to take off her apron. Lonny screamed in annoyance, turning to face his employee. “What did I tell you about that word?!” He screamed desperation and anger in his tone.

“That it’s only used by stinky European teenage boys.” Antoinette related like a mantra at this point. “So stop it!” He yelled as she then tried to walk out of the kitchen, actually having to pee. “And what did I tell you about telling me when you have to pee.”

“I just thought you should know!” Antoinette yelled back through the closing kitchen door. She sighed, starting to continue her way to the bathroom before briefly pausing when she realized the table from earlier was now looking at her in irritation and confusion.

Great, they probably heard me talking about having to pee.

She smiled at them, her dimples being the cherry on top of her adorable face. “Your food will be out shortly.” She said as she encapsulated one hand in the other, voice now calm in contrast to her previous yelling. She went to walk about before stopping once more. “Hopefully.” She said before continuing, taking her apron off in the process and laying it on a hook in the back where her bag and coat were.

She wakes in the dingey bathroom, pulling down her pants and squatting over the bowl. Finally, in some semblance of peace, she had the same thoughts she had every time she used the bathroom at the diner.

My calves have to be extremely strong after doing this for four years. Can they hear me? Gosh, I hope they can’t hear me. I think I’d kill myself. Well no, I wouldn’t because that’s a sin.

Finished, the file looked over next to her for the toilet paper, seeing the roll bare but the sake of two thin sheets stuck to the adhesive. “Aw, man. No paper.” She said to herself. She then tried forward, scouring her mind for a solution to such a predicament. Here she was, leaning forward with her rosary handing in her face, squatted over the toilet seat with urine dripping from her privates.

Today couldn’t be any worse.

Just then, the door shot open and slammed into the girl's head. Antoinette yelped at the harsh contact, not even paying attention to the scream let out by the man above her as she focused on her now throbbing head and tried not to fall into the toilet bowl. “Dammit, Antoinette, lock the door next time.” The man groaned. Antoinette held her head as if her hand would bring some sort of red to the area.

“Ok, Joey can you go grab me some toilet paper? We’re out.” She said, trying to focus on how embarrassing this whole ordeal was.

“Uh, yeah, give me a sec.” He said through the door before drifting away.

Antoinette sighed, her head flopping down as she was once again left in that weird position, now even more embarrassed that someone saw her and that she was hit in the head. And it was her coworker.

Lord. I’m sorry but I must die today.

Joey then came back with a new roll of tissue, handing it to the girl through a crack in the bathroom door, even though he could see the girl in the small bathroom mirror. A few seconds after a flush and the sink running, Antoinette emerged with an awkward smile on her face to see Joey standing in front of the bathroom door.

“Hi.” Was all she said, looking everywhere but his eyes.

“Hey.” The taller olive-skinned man said back. They stood in front of each other for a few moments in silence.

“You should go—“

“Sorry about—“

They stared at the same time, pausing before awkwardly laughing.

“I was gonna say sorry about your head. I kinda just barged in.” Joey continued, smiling down at the girl in front of him.

“It’s fine, I was sitting there very awkwardly. Squatting rather.” She stared, brushing it off. “I was saying that you should head on in there and…do whatever you were going to do.” She shrugged. She could feel her heatwave pick up just being in his presence. And the longer she looked at him in those sultry brown eyes, the feeling of a hot pool started to rumble in her lower stomach. She might’ve been a virgin, but she wasn’t stupid.

Well, not entirely.

She knew she found Joey attractive, but the feeling she got when she stood too close to him was not okay in her book. It triggered her fight or flight, but instead of running away or throwing fists at him, she wanted to jump into his arms.

Yeah, I can’t do this. It’s time to leave.

“Well, it was nice speaking to you Joey, have a nice day. Oh, and Lonny wants you to remove the homeless guy from the booth in the back.” She spat out in a hurry as she grabbed her bag from the hook, along with her coat, and walked back to the front. She passed the table on her way out, seeing that they were now eating. “Oh, you guys got your food. Great.” She said with a small customer service smile as she continued walking.

“Yeah, our order is actually wrong—.” The woman from before couldn’t get out much more before Antoinette was cutting her off.

“Sorry, I’m off the clock. Bye.” She cheesed on her last words and walked out of the door, a bell ringing above her head. She scurried to the alley on the side of the building, to see her bike still double-chained to a random pipe in the next building over. It was basically a little game at this point to come around the corner and see if her bike was still there. Sighing in relief, she rushed over to the baby blue bike with a wicker basket in the front. She unclasped her key from her wrist and unlocked the heavy-duty chains she bought with her last few dollars when she moved to New York. This elderly couple had given her the bike when they saw the girl walking in the rain, saying it was their daughter’s old bike. But since the girl was lost and confused in a very nice neighborhood, she had to buy some chains so she didn’t get jacked before she could get to enjoy its labor.

The girl opened the basket in the front of her bike to place her chains into when she paused at the sight of something wrapped in the large bin. The thing was moving underneath the black cloth and Antoinette was just frozen. She glanced around at the alley to see if anyone was watching her but spotted not a single soul. Sighing, the girl reached out and pulled back the back fabric, being sure to keep her head as far away as she could whilst also being able to see within the basket. Seeing that whatever it was didn’t violently react to her movements, she eased forward to see a tuft of sandy white hair.

What in tarnation is this?

Now confused, the girl leaned forward and pulled the cloth back more to see two small kittens in her backseat, one was this sanely blonde color, the darker part of its body being its nose area and its tail. The other kitten was a mix of colors, mainly orange and black with white spots here and there. Antoinette’s heart immediately melted at the sight of the two kittens.

“Awww!” The girl said, pouting at the creatures who lay in her basket. Well, one creature lay while the other moved around in the basket as best as it could. “Well, aren’t you two just the cutest?” The girl gushed as she lifted the blanket with them two in it to place the chains at the bottom of the basket. Once placing them back down, she looked at the cats, who eventually acknowledged the woman above them with tiny meows, as if they were speaking to her speaking voice. Antoinette nearly cried as she continued to fawn over the cute little animals.

“Yeah, you two are coming home with me.” She said as she mounted her bike and washed her way out of the alley. “Des is just gonna love you two!” She said excitedly, closing the top of her basket and riding off into the New York City streets.

“Why the hell are there kittens in the kitchen?” The light skin girl said as she walked into the small flat and hung her keys and coat near the door before turning to her right to see two kittens in the kitchen licking at a bowl of milk on the corner. Antoinette smiled at the girl as the light from her laptop reflected off her large glasses.

“Hello, Odessa.” The girl said formally laying one hand on top of another as she sat straighter in her seat. The lighter girl furrowed her brows, eyeing her friend across from her in the small kitchen.

“What do you have to say?” The girl demanded out of her rather than asked, already tired from a long work day and knowing Antoinette had something up her sleeve.

She’s sneaky for a catholic…Well, aren’t they all? According to history.

“Well, to answer your previous question, these cats are here because some holy being left them in my basket on my bike.” She started. She could see Odessa was about to speak again but she interrupted before she could. “And before you say anything discouraging, I’d just like to say I did some extensive research. The multicolored one is a calico kitten, and did you know that approximately one calico in 3,000 is male? And guess what? He’s male!” The girl with glasses said, faking her shock again to add to the dramatic value in front of Odessa. The leather-clad girl just leaned against the kitchen archway with her arms folded, face stoic. Seeing that Antoinette was waiting for some sort of reaction before she continued, the woman slightly opened her mouth to let out a small gasp, glancing over at the kitten near her feet.

Antoinette smiled before continuing. “And that quiet and mysterious beauty is a ragdoll kitten. They have an above-average life span, fully grown at 4 years old, quiet by nature, as you can tell. And they are one of the largest cat breeds out there, which is also kind of confusing because you’re supposed to mix other breeds to get a ragdoll cat.” She said, trailing off at the end as she looked at her laptop in confusion, those two facts not making much sense in her mind. Shaking off the thought, the spec-wearing girl looked over at her cooler friend, who just stared at her. Antoinette put on her best smile.

Well, not her best. She was sort of anxious about the whole situation so the smile was kind of awkward, the girl showing all of her adult teeth while her eyes waited on an answer, her brows giving away her concern.

After a moment of silence, the two just looking at one another, Odessa cracked first.

“We can’t keep the cats.” That was all she said before all hell broke loose.

“But, I did so much research on them! I could probably work as a veterinarian with all the knowledge I know now.” The girl in pink whined.

Odessa just started, moving to put her hands in the pockets of her leather pants, the tattoos on her arms showing.

“It was basically a sign from God- well the universe that I’m meant to keep them. They just appeared in my basket, begging for my care.” She continued, changing her words when she saw the girl's brow spike at the mention of the guy up above. That still didn’t get a reaction out of the girl, Odessa just moved across the small kitchen and past the tiny table to the fridge. Antoinette followed her moments within her seat, desperation etched into her face.

“I mean, it won’t cost us much. I can use the bin we use for our socks as their litter box and just use sand from the cigarette pot downstairs.” I’m grasping at freaking straws here.

Odessa turned around once she had the beer in her hands and used the counter to pop the lid off. “And for now we can just give them milk, ya know since we always have some that go bad and we’re lactose intolerant anyway.” She continued, taking her glasses off her face to look at her friend.

Odessa cringed at her words, and leaned against the counter now, which was only about three feet away from the other girl. “That sounds like a terrible life for these poor kittens, Antoinette. And us.” She said before taking a swig of her beer. “We can’t afford them.”

“I mean, it's not like we’re poor. We can take care of them.”

“We have a box television in the year 2023…” Odessa started, “And it’s not even in our living room, it’s in the kitchen and it’s the size of a basketball.” She finished, pointing over to the small television on the corner of the table that softly played reruns of old television shows with the antenna that aimed at the small kitchen window. “We don’t even have fucking cable.”

“Language,” Antoinette muttered. “I mean, at least we get to watch Sex & The City and Living Single for free.” She smiled over at Odessa, who gave her a simple stare. “We can’t afford them, Bennie.” She said softly.

Antoinette then deflated, shoulders sagging as she leaned back in the old wooden chair. She had lost all hope as soon as the girl said that name, Odessa only calling her that when she was serious about something. Mainly because Odessa hated nicknames. “Okay, I’ll find them somewhere tomorrow.” She softly whined before putting her head in her hands. Odessa pursed her lips in sadness, patting the girl on the shoulder for comfort before making her way out of the kitchen. It only took her about three steps before she was in what most would call a living room, but Odessa liked to call it her room. Since it essentially was her room.

The far wall was made of brick, with a green couch in front of it that let out into her bed and a small back circle table in the middle, on top of an ugly carpet.

The girl sighed as she turned and dropped down onto the couch, letting her back hit the seat cushions. The old ceiling light hurt her eyes and made her already terrible hangover headache worse, so she threw her arms over her eye, placing her face in her elbow. Getting home late last night from one of her small concerts, she liked to call them, at the bar she worked at, she got a little too wasted. It was a recurring theme for her honestly.

Get up, go to work at the bar, wait till 10 to start performing, do that until about 2 am, get drunk afterward and either go home with whoever she decides to lay with that night or go to her humble abode. She didn’t perform every night, but when she did, that was usually the routine. And now she was suffering the consequences of getting drunk and staying up until 5 am when she had to work only hours later. At least she didn’t perform tonight, now she could stay in longer since it was only 6.

Her head becoming too much, the girl sat up from the couch to head to the bathroom to see if she could salvage some pain pills. But before she could, the sight of a pile of letters caught her eye. Reaching over, she grabbed the small pile to sort through.

Bill, bill, bill, creepy letter, postcards, bill, rent, perfume samples…What the hell?…

Odessa paused at the sight of the letter, the off-white paper wax-sealed with a red stamp. She squinted, looking at the seal to see if she knew the symbol from somewhere. Looking at it in just the wax form, she couldn’t quite make it out but she knew it looked familiar. Standing up, she kept her eyes on the letter as she walked back to the kitchen.

“Did you see this creepy ass letter in the mail?” She asked, standing the the archway and turning the letter to face Antoinette, who had her head propped on her chin as she sadly looked at places where she could drop the kittens off. Speaking of kittens, they now lay in the girls’ lap, curled into one another in almost a yin and yang symbol.

Antoinette looked up, squinting at the girl who was blurry since she didn’t have on her glasses. Odessa walked forward, placing the letter in front of her roommate.

Placing her spec on, Antoinette inspected the letter more, immediately recognizing the symbol. She furrowed her brows, glancing up at the even more confused Odessa. Gliding her long bare nails under the wax seal, she popped the envelope open and pulled out the letter. “Ohh, handwritten.” She said to herself as she looked at the unfolded paper.

She was silent as she read through the letter, causing Odessa to just stand before her and wait for the girl to speak. She watched Antoinette read the letter, her face going through a mix of emotions. First, her brows raised in surprise in the beginning as she hummed in contempt. Then her eyes widened as she continued before she got to the end of the letter and gasped.

“What is it?! You’re making my blood pressure rise.” Odessa said, watching the girl intensely.

“It’s from Saint Mary’s.” She started, not looking up to see Odessa cringe at the words. “They said a lot has changed in the last four years. Mother Agnes died, and they refurbished the church and built it. And they even have new staff, but the community is failing. They sent letters to all the kids that grew up in the foster home to see if they’d come to work there to improve their quality of life. Pay and free housing included.” She finished, looking up at the girl before her.

Neither of them could look each other in the eyes at the news, both of them still processing everything. Mainly the information about Mother Agnes dying. There was a sense of relief as if the girls had been haunted by everything that woman did to them. And in a sense, they were. They’ve endured too much pain at the hands of Mother Agnes. So much pain that they had to live with their whole lives, and leaving there didn’t help as much as they thought it would. They just now had a place to express such feelings out loud. Although they never did. Conditioning at its finest. Just thinking about their youth made Odessa want to break down and cry after so many years of pushing those memories away. And Antoinette…she could have a panic attack just being back at such a place.

After a moment of silence, Antoinette read over the letter again and again while Odessa just started in thought, someone finally spoke.

“We should do it.” She said softly, not looking up in fear of Odessa’s reaction.

“And why the hell would we do that?” The other girl asked harshly, offended that Antoinette even thought of such a possibility.

“Because it could help.” She answered softly. “We could use the money.”

“We have money. You and I both work.”

“You said it yourself, Des,” Antoinette said looking up, her hands slightly shaking as she played with the letter in her hands. The thought of going back wasn’t doing her psyche any good, but she felt as if this was a good opportunity. Maybe this could be good for us. “We don’t have the money.”

“I said that about your cats. Me and you are living just fine.” Odessa spat, her words harsh as she looked down at the darker-skinned girl. Antoinette subtly flinched at her tone, looking back down at the letter in her hands. Odessa saw her small movements and immediately felt bad, she wasn’t making the situation any better.

“It could be good for us.” Antoinette started again, not looking up this time. “We could go there and help out. Make it a better place than it was when we were there. Be nicer to the children so they…don’t end up like us.” She said. Her words hung in the air for a moment. “I mean, what other place is gonna offer us free housing and a job?”

“We go back just so we can be in debt to those people?” Odessa stated, ignoring what the girl previously said about helping the children. “So they can treat us like some charity case? Like they did when we were foster children?” She continued to ask, staring at the top of Antoinette’s head since she refused to lift her eyes from the wax she was ripping off the paper envelope. “I’m not going through that again, not for some people who didn’t give a damn about us then.”

“There’s new people.”

“Yeah, and who do you think taught them what they know?” She asked, folding her arms. There was a thick silence between them.

Antoinette nodded, never looking up. “You're right.” She closed her old laptop and adjusted the kittens into her arms. She then tucked her laptop under her arm and stood up. “I’m gonna go to bed now, good night.” She said softly, walking past Odessa and into the small room on the other side of the living room. Odessa sighed, placing her head into her head as she heard the girl's door softly close from her place in the kitchen.

Antoinette didn’t come out of her room after that, but Odessa could hear her shuffling around in the very small space. She now lay on her bed couch, looking over at the skinny door every time she heard the slightest moment from the room. She would wait to see if the girl would come out in the middle of the night like she always did to ask her random questions, say a random fact, or go to the kitchen to get some water and get caught up in the small television. But none of that ever came.

As soon as Odessa thought sleep was about to finally meet her halfway, she got caught in the words Antoinette said earlier. About helping the children.

Now, Odessa was far from a children's type of person. She was far from a people person, honestly, but she had to make a living somehow. So, for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why she was so affected by the girl's words as soon as they left her mouth. But deep down, she knew why. And so did Antoinette.

Even in the foster home, Odessa would always protect the younger kids from punishment. Taking all their lashing so she didn’t have to hear the cries of children being hurt. Antoinette is one of those kids when the others would blame things on her. And she would take their pain with no words since the age of fourteen. She never vocally expressed the pain she felt emotionally, mentally, and definitely not physically. That mentality infuriated Mother Agnes to the point she would single the girl out and beat the girl harder to see if she could make her break. But Odessa only let tears slip when she was alone.

Now Antoinette didn’t know the severity her words would have on Odessa’s mind, so she couldn’t blame the girl. But she knew that the girl was right. Odessa would do anything in her power to make sure no other kids ended up like her. She would do anything to not hear the cries of pain from children who busted and wanted to be accepted and loved.

And with that thought, she got up from the bed and walked over to Antoinette’s room. She opened the small door that led to the tiny room to see the girl’s back facing the door, looking out the window at the city as she lay in bed and petted the two cats.

“I changed my mind.” She said softly.

Antoinette glanced over her shoulder. “About the cats?” She started. “Nah, I think you’re right. I don’t think I can care for them properly.” She said sadly, turning to look back out of the window.

“No, not about the cats,” Odessa stated.

There was a pause between the two, Antoinette processing the girl's words. She then sat up in her bed and turned to face the girl at her door, five feet away from her. “What made you change your mind?” She asked softly.

“You were right. About everything.” She shrugged, biting her lip. She was anxious about the whole situation. Coming to such a conclusion about her feelings and the thought of going back to the town brought more bad memories than good. But also to how her best friend would react. But that was all washed away when she saw the girl smile.

“Can I bring the cats?” She asked, pointing to the sleeping kittens in her bed. Odessa giggled, looking at the pleading smile on her friend's face.

“Yeah, sure. I mean, they’ll have more space to grow. Its a better life than here.” She said shrugging.

Antoinette then gasped. “Oh! Now I can get one of those cute wax melt sets so I can’t write back to them.” She smiled excitedly. “Oh, this is gonna be so great!”

Odessa smiled at the girl's excitement. “Now get some sleep, we have some things to sort out before we head up.” That was all she said before she closed the door behind her and made her way back to bed. She let out one final sigh before closing her eyes and letting sleep take her away.

Antoinette smiled at the door as it closed before looking down at the animals at her side. “Ya see, prayers do get answered, guys.” She said, holding up her right hand that was wrapped in her rosary, showing it to the sleeping cats. “Oh, you guys can’t hear me. Or understand me. Or understand religion. I need to go to bed.” She hugged before plopping down onto her pillow with an anxious smile and closing her eyes.

Let me know if you guys like the story and if you’d liked to be added to the taglist!!!

[unnecessaryheadache]

Okay. Snape as a roller-skating breakfast server. I THINK that this would be funny to imagine

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"Flapjacks & Flashbacks" - a retro-themed breakfast diner. Snape, sporting a bright yellow apron with "Flapjacks & Flashbacks" emblazoned on it, short shorts that are way too short, a teal polo shirt, and roller skates, was meticulously counting a stack of pounds. He was also rocking surprisingly stylish half-up space buns (let me cook).

Snape rolled around, avoiding customers with ease, counting his money with a thumb. He muttered to himself, "Finally...a decent tip. These Muggles...customers…aren't entirely devoid of generosity. Perhaps this shift won't be a complete waste of time after all."

The bell above the front door jingled, and in strolled the Marauders. Some were hangry (cough Remus cough COUGH Sirius cough), others were aching for sugar. Lots of it. Kilos of it. Some were also very observant, so when Snape rolled by, an eyebrow was immediately raised.

James's jaw dropped.

Then, he suddenly remembered the punch Severus gave him just months ago and how long it took to regain his senses. He snapped it closed, but didn't refrain from leaning sideways to whisper to Sirius. "Padfoot," James hissed, smacking the boy's thigh urgently.

"PADF-"

"Oh my God, what?" Sirius groaned, smacking James back harder.

James pouted, rubbing his thigh, and then nodded to Snape. "Doesn't that server look familiar to you?"

Sirius blinked owlishly before twisting his head around like someone trying to spot air molecules. "Is it Marlene? I told her I was vacationing in Canada-"

"No, Mr. Worldwide player. That one over there wearing the shorts." James face-palmed.

"James," Remus sighed, lifting his hand to slide it over his sweaty face, cringing at the dew. "Eugh. Ahem, James, nearly every worker here wears shorts."

James made an 'o' shape with his mouth before shaking his head and pointing aggressively. "Dark hair, pale skin, no waist."

"WHERE?!" Sirius gasped, finally spotting who James was gesturing at. The first thing he looked at? "Nice ass," he nodded, a proud smile on his face. James side-eyed him. "That's a dude."

"Nice ass."

"It's Snivellus."

"Nice - WHAT?'"

So, that took him about a minute to realize. "No way. Moony, pinch me, now. Or better, kiss me, we haven't done that in a while."

Remus tried to maintain composure, but a smile was playing on his lips. "…I wish I had a camera on me."

Peter looked Snape up and down, pondered, looked him up and down again, then physically recoiled. "He looks odd,"

"Is this where he's been? I mean, he left the school early to help his dad with something...I guess that meant earning money," James recounted as he rubbed the back of his neck. Then he began to beam. "Could never be me-" "James." Remus scolded.

Snape, hearing his name, froze. He slowly turned (cue door creaking sound) around, his smile vanishing, to see the four figures standing there. His face must've gone through about five different shades of red in the space of two seconds. Who wouldn't be embarrassed?

With a strained voice, he welcomed the boys while stuffing the cash into his front apron pocket. "Welcome to Flapjacks & Flashbacks. Table for four?"

Oh, that was the funniest thing of the century, actually.

James barely contained his laughter and answered with a wavering voice. "Uh, yeah. We'll SNORT take a booth - eheh- And…uh-HA - ahem… could we get some extra syrup? And maybe…a side of…" he looked at Snape's outfit. Good God. "Surprise?"

Sirius turned around to face the door, his shoulders shaking with every quiet wheeze he released, earning a firm smack on the back of his head from Remus, who was being a complete hypocrite. He found it hilarious..

Snape's eyes narrowed, and he personally wanted the God of the Dead to take their souls, but broke people don't have such luxury. "The "surprise" is whatever the chef feels like creating. But mkay."

And so, he glided (slightly unsteadily) over to a booth, grabbed four menus, and threw them down on the table. He then skated back to the counter, muttering under his breath.

I'd rather be sniffing toxic fumes right now. I swear to God, I'm going to rip these shit-buns off my head. Where's my wand? WHERE is my wand? Why didn't I bring it with me-

He grabbed a notepad and pen, his hand shaking slightly. He skated back to the booth, trying to project an air of nonchalance that he absolutely didn't feel.

Snape had to force a smile. It physically hurt to do. "Alright, what can I get for you…" pocket lint eaters "gentlemen?"

Sirius, ever the generous client, leaned back in his seat beside Remus, ready to order. "Well, Severus or should I say…Sunshine?" Definitely not aimed at the name tag or anything. "I think I'll have the "Marauder's Special." Extra bacon, extra sausages, extra everything. And...could you maybe add a little potion to it? Just to give it a little kick?"

Remus elbowed Sirius in the ribs.

He apologetically nodded at Snape. "He means ketchup. Lots of ketchup with the "Sunny's Special"."

Snape gritted his teeth, held back a retort, and cleared his throat. "Of course. Ketchup."

He scribbled down the order, his pen nearly snapping in his hand.

James gave Snape a Cheshire cat smirk before pointing lazily at the top of the menu without glancing down at what he was motioning to. "And I'll have the "Lily's Delight." Extra whipped cream and a cherry on toP." He requested, popping his 'p' with audacity.

That wasn't even what the ice cream was called. It was "Barny's Summer Day". Arse.

Peter didn't like the idea of getting on Snape's nerves at the moment. He sank further in his seat until only the top part of his face showed. "I'll just have the…uh…the toast."

That didn't work to soothe a thing. Snape snapped his notepad shut, his gaze blazing. "Excellent. Toast. And…delights.

He skated back to the kitchen, leaving the Marauders in a fit of laughter. As he pushed through the swinging doors, he could be heard yelling:

KITCHEN! I NEED FOUR "FLAPJACKS OF DOOM" AND A PLATE OF…FUCKING TOAST! AND SOMEONE HIDE THESE SHORTS AND GIVE ME PANTS BEFORE I BURN THEM!

The Marauders erupted in even louder laughter.