#the employees at the register made it sound like there wasn't even a manager there

[jawsplitter]

the one interview i don't wear my pinhead socks to, i get stood up. Figures

[keysmashcoward]

I finally finished day 1 of hypno ship week, old friends / getting closer! I don't know if it's the most overt theming, like, it honestly could be read as an established relationship or qpr if you wanted to and I wouldn't argue with you. It's pretty obvious I'm rusty, so go easy on me! /lh

---

Despite the drizzling rain outside the little coffee stand, Hypno found managing drive thru customers far more relaxing than usual. Cars seemed reluctant to clump up into a demanding line and customers seemed to be utilitarian in their orders, requesting simple drinks with little to no special instructions.

"You need anything?" False seemed particularly bored, no walk up customers to chat up or maintenance tasks to busy herself with. Hypno was debating convincing her to take over the drive thru when the employee entrance door opened, cold air and morning rain rushing in.

Jevin also rushed in. His sweatshirt was soaked and his expression looked apologetic. False whipped around from the counter she was cleaning with dedication. A sigh of relief escaped her lungs and she returned to scrubbing sticky vanilla syrup and blue raspberry stains from the surface.

Hypno's curiousity got the better of him, "Did you finally get tired to being perfect at your job?" The joke had a pinch of snark to it, but Jev's chuckle disintegrated any though that he would respond with heat.

"No, I'm just that confident you guys could deal perfectly well without me." Hypno was about to say something about how it was a Monday, and Mondays were always terrible, but Jev got to his argument before him.

"I mean, that line," a roll of the eyes and a gesture out the empty drive thru window, "only a professional like you could achieve the feat of serving the entire morning rush before I had even arrived."

Hypno tried to think of a clever response, but to no evale. A matching eye roll and a huff of exasperation would have to do.

The sound of tires on wet concrete interrupted their conversation. Hypno hurriedly slide open his window, an awkward smile covering for his annoyance towards Jevin.

"Could I get myself a quad shot Americano with oat milk and..." Hypno dropped his customer serving face in favor of a cheeky grin, "for you, maybe enough lenience to ditch work?"

"I feel like you were scouting out a day we wouldn't be so busy." Hypno's fingers easily found xB's tab on the touch screen register and entered his order. Jevin had already taken his place at the espresso machine. Hypno would have liked to think it was to prove himself after coming in late, but logic told him Jev just wasn't to kean on leaving customers waiting.

XB's eyes we're on his phone, determinally searching for something before unbuckling from his seat. His torso strained his car to hold out his phone to Hypno. After a glance, Hypno doubled his grin.

He hurriedly added a lid to xB's nearly finished drink, double cupping and sleeving, as usual, and placed it in xB's free hand.

He grabbed his keys.

---

Hypno thought an hour and a half drive was a great trade for xB's spontaneous compulsion to take him to a new teriyaki place. Him bringing food back to the parked car was even worth an earful from Cubfan about the importance of being a responsible employee.

His usual order to test and measure restaurant quality was chicken teriyaki with fried rice and a side of coleslaw. His meat was tender and juicy, rice was properly seasoned with vegetables cooked to his liking, and the coleslaw was still crisp.

XB had opted for beef with white rice and coleslaw. Hypno eyed his meal, before stabbing his fork through one of his pieces, rice clinging to the sauce. XB gave him a horrified glance and a fake pout. Unfortunately, Hypno determined that the beef was too dry, and therefore, not worth a trade for any of his precious chicken.

"That's theft, you know," xB made a move for Hypno's food, only for a hand to easily reroute his whole arm away from his goal. XB hadn't been trying that hard, but now he was determined. "I'm definitely thinking that saying, 'an eye for an eye,' yeah, that works here."

Another lunge, another redirect, all the while Hypno is quickly and efficiently tucking away the rest of their settlement fee.

"I could take this to court, you know."

"For what?" Hypno plays stupid, "you can't seriously think it's a good idea to prosecute yourself for entitlement to my things. I mean, what are you, a vigilante?"

Hypno's on his second to last piece, the chicken stabbed onto the end of his fork. XB fanes panic and places his meal out of his way, using his hand to brace on the steering wheel and seat.

Hypno eats the piece.

XB uses his leverage to bring his body up and out of his position, leaning into his personal space.

Hypno stabs the final piece and brings it to his mouth.

XB is there before him, fully crowding him against the window and earning his emotional damages settlement when he bites the chicken right off of Hypno's fork.

As he's chewing, he begins to return to his seat. Before he's there, but after he's swallowed, Hypno pulls at the back of his head for a quick, sweet kiss.

---

I might crosspost to AO3 when I've finished all the prompts, but that's also fucking terrifying, so... /hyp

Also, my sincerest apologies for the tags; they are actually deranged a bit.

[sweetflanfiction]

The Arena - Part 4

Universe: Alice in Borderland Pairing: Chishiya x reader Disclaimer Pt.3: The story isn't finished! This isn't proofread! I don't speak english as my main language! Sorry from everything aaannnddd...Anything between these // // is a flashback/not real.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // End

• ··········· • ············ •

When nighttime came, you all decided to go out and be social. You were hanging by the lounge area once again, trying to make small talk with some other guests and event attendees. Trying and mostly failing since the only thing the group managed to actually do was sit in some comfy chairs and have a late snack. 

The walk to the bedroom, your bedtime routine and the hushed conversation you had with Ari were covered in a fog of tiredness and weariness. And although you had been dead-tired you only managed to sleep a couple of hours straight, after that you’d only been able to twist and turn on your bed, until you decided to get up and get some fresh air. 

Getting up you grabbed your sneakers, the first piece of clothes your hand touched and without turning the lights on you got dressed. Grabbing your keycard and phone, you silently made it out into the corridor.

The hotel was even quieter than in the evening. You shoved your hands in the pockets of your jacket and walked around the corridor, finally arriving at the balcony that overlooked the foyer. You leaned on the railing and closed your eyes. 

You opened your eyes and saw a man dressed in a silk robe and swim trunks on the tall stone balcony. Hands behind his back, sunglasses, leaning into the stone banister, looking at the lower floor. He moved slowly and looked directly at you, smiling and tilting his head in acknowledgement. You raised your eyebrows for a second but nodded your head all the same. The man walked away and you were left alone once more.

Reaching the outdoor pool was easy and nobody had stopped you on the way there. The night was cool, but not cold. The sky was clear and filled with stars. You heard the sound of waves crashing at the beach, the repetitive sound soothing you.

Bending down you took off your shoes and sat quietly on the edge of the pool. You dipped your feet into the water and let the sound of the waves and soft wind lull you into a relaxed state. 

After a while you felt someone standing by your side and thinking it was a hotel employee you jerked your head to look at the uninvited guest. 

It wasn't an employee though. Chishiya stood next to you, his hands shoved into his pants pockets. He gave you a quick grin, took off his flip-flops and sat down next to you.

"I forgot about the buddy system." You teased him.

"I didn't follow you. Although you’re pretty easy to spot.” He mentioned your clothing, and you looked down, finally registering that you were wearing his white hoodie.

“Shit. Sorry!" You started taking it off.

“You can keep it.” He said, chuckling at you fumbling with the zipper. 

“Thanks.” 

He nodded and you both fell silent for a while. 

"This place…" You faltered, unsure if you should keep talking. "This place, something is wrong with it. I'm not sure why, or what it is, but...there seems to be a sense of imminent danger. It feels like I'm being watched, threatened, and it's not the same as it was before. I want to leave. Whenever I stop to think about it, I feel a need to hide. Not just physically, I need to shut down everything in me. I don’t know if it’s the people, or the lights or this strange smell of…”

“Something burning?” Chishiya sighed. "I've been having similar thoughts. It’s not as unpleasant as yours. I do feel watched, not threatened. It’s just uncomfortable… and urgent. Like a need to finish something as quickly as possible. And the smell of burning is…bizarre. Kaori hasn’t felt it and I’m sure there would be an alarm if something was burning.”

“Trauma is a bitch.” You grunted, leaning your elbows into your knees, looking out into the pool water. 

“It is. But at least we get to share it.” He leaned back the opposite way, but looked at the same spot.

“Well, if I have to get through it, I’m glad you’re coming in with me Chishiya.” You blurted out, looking back at him watching for his reaction.

The man looked at you and nodded. He had a gentle smile on his lips. His eyes blinked slowly, like a satisfied cat. You mirrored his expression and he bumped his knee against yours playfully. Turning to look back into the dark sky, you placed a hand on his knee, trying to focus on being relaxed.

You had to start admitting to yourself that you enjoyed his company in more ways than just friendly companionship. When he stood next to you, you couldn't help but relax, and you always tried to make that happen as subtly and quickly as possible. Whenever your band of friends hung out, you always enjoyed watching him silently. From the way he moved, to the way he spoke. 

You hadn’t acted on this though. Your mental health and well-being were your first priority. Before you could jump into a relationship with anyone, you had to make sure you were ready to handle it. However, everything seemed to be falling into place as of late, so much so that you were starting to consider asking a certain doctor out.

• ··········· • ············ •

Chishiya shifted his gaze to you. If two years ago, someone had told him this would be his life, he would have dismissed it with a shrug and an eye roll. The idea of having real friends who he could count on was such a stretch of the imagination that he had never even thought about making an effort. The notion of caring for anyone other than himself had been completely foreign at the time, let alone thinking about wanting to be with someone. 

But here he was, fighting the urge to wrap his arm around your own, take your hand and just sit there for hours until the sun rose. 

• ··········· • ············ •

The next day was a little less stressful, but the final hurdle was still on the horizon: the fundraiser. The main event would be finished by three and the Foundation had decided to hold a small fundraiser for its research department. And that meant every staff member had to attend. Some of the speakers and some higher up in the hospital would also be there, so the thought of skipping it hadn’t even been discussed.

You and Ari were waiting in the bedroom for the rest of the gang to join in. Although the day had been relatively calm, there was still something bothering you.

"Please…stop." Ari begged, watching you pace the room for the umpteenth time. "You're making me dizzy."

"Sorry." You sat on the edge of the bed, your leg bouncing.

"Have you taken your medication?" She asked and you nodded. "You want me to check your vitals?"

“What? Why?” You stared at her confused. She shrugged.

"My patients tell me I'm very zen when I work." She declared proudly.

"Thanks. I'm fine." You snickered.

"Yes, the earthquake you're trying to create with that leg sure makes you look fine." She pointed and you stopped immediately. “How did it turn out with Chishiya last night? You managed to ask him out or…?”

“What? How did you know?” 

“I have eyeballs and ears, and so does Kaori.” 

“You were sleeping.” You doubted.

“We also have bladders, my friend. I woke up and you were gone. Kaori woke up and he was gone. Coincidence?” Ari sassed. “Come on, there's exactly two people in the world that haven't realized you both have been "heart-eyeing" each other for the longest time: you and him."

You tried to defend yourself but stopped halfway. Both of you were adults, with your lives more or less organized and enough wits to make informed choices. There was no need for you to try and hide or defend the fact that yes, you had feelings towards the aloof doctor. 

"Has it clicked yet?" Your friend asked, watching you slowly nod as the realization dawned on your face. "Good."

"I just don't think now is the time." You sighed. "If my breakdowns are coming back…"

"Well, he's well aware of the trauma and the effect it has." Ari leaned back into the bed, grabbing her phone.

After a few seconds of silence, two knocks on the door interrupted your thoughts. You got up and opened it. Kaori stood there, with a smile on their face. They were already dressed nicely and ready for the function.

"I heard someone had an epiphany!" They gently pushed you inside the room and closed the door. 

"How?" You asked confused.

Ari cleared her throat and waved her phone, smiling mischievously. You rolled your eyes and watched as Kaori sat next to your current roommate.

"First of all, congratulations." They teased, winking at you. "Second of all, can we switch rooms now? That man is driving me nuts!"

"First of all, thanks? Second of all, no." You sat down again. "I'm still trying to figure it out."

Kaori turned serious for a moment, noticing your flustered state.

"Listen, as much as we sound like actual high schoolers over this, we understand that it's complicated." Kaori reasoned, knowing you'd listen to them more than anyone else while Ari nodded in agreement. "Don't make any decisions based on what he might do or think. Make it for you. If you feel capable of doing it, do it. He knows the hand he is being dealt. If not, then don't. Just know that, as your friends, we just want to see you enjoy yourself. Be happy."

"And then, if you do decide to go for it... burn all his sweaters, for the sake of Kaori's well being." Ari added, lightening the mood. "And please condition that hair."

There was a pause as the three of you hummed in agreement, before chuckles and laughter started to bubble up. If there was anything certain in this world, it was that there was an understanding between the three of you. A balance to make sure things are put in perspective, no matter if it’s work or personal.

• ··········· • ············ •

@phoenix666stuff // @rosesandlavendertea // @xiaoishwrites

[cfgcdsandmcnsters]

serenade (the song is la vie en rose, in french too) /for mal

It had been a pretty quiet night at the club, even for a weeknight. Meaning there wasn't really much for Mal to do after locking up except entertain the only person that he allowed in after 2AM.

"See, this is why I don't hire a manager," he had insisted as he counted the little money in the drawer that he'd made that night. "Nothin' I can't handle, and I have extra bartenders for the weekends."

The lights were still dim over the dancefloor, pinks, purples, greens, and blues spinning across the tiles waiting to be turned off. The sound of metal sliding against metal echoed in the now quiet club as he closed the cash drawer and shut down the register. The money would be secured in a safe in his office until he could manage to make a bank run.

As he'd made his way from around the counter, Malakai took Marianne's hand, leading her onto the empty dance floor. "Besides, you gotta admit, it's almost romantic in here, in an Alice and Sheryl kinda way." He let one arm slip around her waist, hand resting on the small of her back. His other hand freed hers from his grasp so he could reach up to tuck hair behind her ear, head tilting so his forehead could rest against hers. "And we wouldn't get a moment like this if there were other employees runnin' around in here. All we're missing is a song."

[likeabelll]

( ellie bamber, 23, cis female, she/her ) RHIANNON 'RHIA' ANDREWS has been living in Point Place for TWENTY THREE YEARS. Their favorite song is KILLER QUEEN BY QUEEN. They’re currently up to WORKING AT THE RECORD STORE, but they’d rather be ATTENDING CONCERTS. First impressions usually stick around here, and others describe them as EASY GOING, CHARISMATIC AND 'WILD'. Stick around to get to know the real them. ( sky, 21, GMT-3, she/her )

☆ born to carefree, and self-proclaimed hippies during the 60s, parents -- rhiannon was given a childhood that would set her up for what the rest of her life would be like. david & johanna instilled the basical morals & values that you'd teach your child if you wanted them to grow up into a decent person, but apart from that? they didn't believe or rules. or limitations. there was absolutely no pressure from either of them to go into a specific path. she didn't even have a curfew. they wanted her to have fun. enjoy life. and discover herself.

☆ this sounds cool, right? the other kids sure thought so! they always complained about how jealouss they were of her. and it is, in a way. it's something rhia talks about fondly, says how it made such an independent person out of her. how it made her 'free'. but, in the back of her mind, it's always nagged her. she wishes they'd given her some structure, and acted like parents instead of friends -- it bordered on neglect, at times, and made her feel like they didn't really care about her.

☆ in the end, it didn't really matter. because, whatever she didn't get at home, she got outside of it. she was the type of girl to have a lot of friends, back at school. popular, but kind. kind, but not boring. that sort of thing. she got along with all sorts of groups of people, not sticking to one -- mostly because she changed her personality around to suit whoever she was around with. that way, they'd find her cool. and, that way, she'd have attention on her. after all, why be yourself when you could play along with people's dreams and ensure their love?

☆ this is a behaviour she carried into adulthood. old habits die hard. she doesn't even know who 'herself' is, anymore.

☆ a little bit before her senior year of high school, she picked up at job at grooves, the record store. she was starting to think long term, so she figured she'd start saving up money /now/. it was easy enough. cashier. say hi, learn to work the register, wrap up the product -- and just hang out by herself, when no one was around. a good experience, to set her up.

☆ in fact, it was so good she grew to love it! she offered to close the store more often than not, and work late shifts. she liked to sit on the floor, and go through the records. use the jukebox to listen to them for free, because employee's benefit (not really, her manager wasn't aware, but she reckons he didn't care). she discovered a bunch of bands that way, and had a rerun of a few that her parents used to play in the living room when she was a kid.

☆ suffice to say, the money she'd been saving up ended up going to concert tickets. if she liked it enough, she just HAD to go and see them live! whenever they showed up in town, anyways. she wasn't invested enough to travel yet. but, when she was, she took rides with other in vans with people who were going to the same location as her.

☆ she graduated, and decided she was happy enough with her job -- happy enough to stay in it, and not pursue further education. she'd been there long enough for the manager to be fond of her, and allow her to get away with some stuff. that, and she wanted to devote herself to music. not participate in it, per se, but support those who did. live it. dance to it all night. if that were a career, she'd be employee of the month!

☆ her parents helped her with enough money to buy herself a tiny apartment, and bid her goodbye (it didn't feel like she was living there anymore, anyways, so not much changed). not too expensive, but not completely cheap. she was able to keep up with rent, and support her 2 cats (who started off hiding, but then were just accepted by the landlord because it'd been too long by the time he found them).

☆ she's known around the world of music just by how often you can find her in the audience, and backstage (she almost always has a pass around her neck). it's reached a point where she gets tickets for free, sometimes, and she's been seen numerous times in magazines just standing in the background chatting with band members. her flashy, glittery makeup, COLORFUL clothes (feather boas, mini skirts, platform boots, flowy dresses) & red hair don't allow her to go unnoticed -- but no one really knows who she is. she's been mentioned, at most, as 'a mystery groupie'.

[wooandthesun]

[ 08:22 ] hongjoong

safe inside - james arthur

will you call me to tell me you're alright?

cause i worry about you the whole night

don't repeat my mistakes

i won't sleep till you're safe inside

ps. i didn't really pay attention to the grammar in this, so there will be parts where i use present and past tense in the same instances,,, im sorry </3

you kick a stone to the curb, mindlessly swaying through your entire walk back home, your limbs seemingly guided by perhaps only a quarter portion of your faltering consciousness. you cuss when you stumble, hoisting your body upwards with a determined thrust. home is near, you thought to yourself. you were right, your apartment complex wasn't any farther than a couple of steps and a flight of stairs.

to explain how you got in this situation in the first place, you believe you'd blame it on your tendency to overexert yourself in every aspect of your life, be it small or big. today was no different, when you stepped out the door that morning on a whim with a splitting headache, feeling as if your skull was being crushed all over. you don't exactly know how you managed to finish up everything you wanted to perfect today, but you did.

hongjoong, your boss, had paid a good sum of attention towards you specifically that day however. he had always been a friend even outside of work, and since his company was small and wasn't packed with employees, it was normal for everyone to be a little closer to their boss compared to other companies. yet, you start to wonder, was it obvious that you were sick? you doubt it; you were very good at pretending to be alright.

thoughts continue to cloud your head space as you practically crawl the flight of stairs, your left hand gripping the railing as if you were holding on for dear life. on the top of the staircase, you pause, taking a breather. your keys are on your right hand, producing metallic clinking sounds thanks to your unsteady stance.

you take one step forward, then another, and then another one. you wanted to laugh at how you were staggering, walking in literal zombie-mode. your mind is hazy, and you have to look to the ground to actually process how much progress you've made. you sigh when you realise you've made none, and that it seemed like you hadn't moved at all.

it happens in a flash. your keys make clinking sounds again, except this time their fate is met by the floor. you let out a string of unintelligible curses, frustrated as you bent down to pick the keys up, only to feel gravity tug you downwards in a sickening speed, your eyelids weighing heavier than they should be. time seems to slow down, in tune with your motions, or the lack thereof. were you free falling backwards? you have no idea. your mind stood no chance to register the situation either.

a pair of arms catch you halfway through your fall just when you start to accept your fate. everything else: the door, whatever sounds or any jolt of movement grew distant. the last thing you remember hearing is panicked and manouvered breaths that didn't belong to you.

when you finally come to, you realise you're laying on your sofa with a blanket over your body. your lips feel cracked from dryness, and you whimper as you rise, only to fall backwards. your hand searches for the water bottle you always keep on your coffee table, but everything still feels so far away.

"stay still." you hear. you can't put a finger on who the voice belongs to. you whine, choking out the word 'water' while you try to pry your eyes open. "god, y/n, i said stay still." the tone of this voice is stern but concerned, which made your stomach feel kind of funny.

you feel your body being guided into a sitting position, and a cold sensation on your lips afterwards. a glass of water. you gulp everything down eagerly, coughing as you finish.

"i knew you were sick. why did you come to work today?" there was a pause at the end the question. "nevermind, don't answer that. just, sleep." the voice softens, and you feel their hand on your forehead. "silly, you're burning up." the person blurts, sounding amused but not surprised.

with every ounce of your strength, you manage to let your eyes flutter open for a few seconds. you catch a glimpse of black hair, a familiar set of furrowed eyebrows, eyes filled to the brim with worry, and rosy lips. even amidst semi-consciousness you were able to tell exactly who this person was.

"hongjoong?" your voice comes out like a whisper. your next reply is deliberate, almost slurred. "i wasn't this sick in the morning. i-i'm fine, well not really, but i will be. i just, didn't want to skip work. especially not without an earlier notice." you leave out the fact that you didn't want to disappoint him.

"well, you didn't really think that through, didn't you?" he lets a rhetorical question slip, sighing right after. "sorry. i'm just.. worried. about you." he admits.

"you don't have to. that's not in your job description: worrying about your employee, y/n." you laugh.

"i'm thoroughly impressed you have the strength to crack a joke when you're sick. y/n, you fainted. it could have gone much worse." he explains.

"well, you saved me." you say. "i think you always do. you're always saving me. i feel like i'm often a damsel in distress when i'm around you when in reality i'm very capable of taking care of myself alone. i don't know why.." you trail off. your head feels a little lighter now, and it doesn't take you too much effort to keep your eyes open.

you see hongjoong staring at you, the same concerned look plastered on his face. his eyes scan your face, lingering on your lips before he clears his throat. "would you not like for me to.. save you next time?" he asks. at first, you wonder if he was joking, but the sincerity felt too evident to ignore.

"are you really asking me that?" you ask in a playful demeanor. "i don't think you'd stop even if i asked you to. not that i want you to stop," your final sentence comes like a gentle breeze, falling into a whisper. you close your eyes, hoping hongjoong hadn't heard it.

"you know, y/n," he starts, eyeing you. "you're hard not to worry about. you're always on your feet, you never put yourself first.. and i'm always worried about you. about your well-being: whether you've eaten or rested before pushing yourself over and over again." he speaks, casting his glance to the floor. you are listening intently, yet your eyes are still closed in an attempt to counter the blush creeping up your cheeks. "i find myself wondering about you every damn second. god, when you showed up all shaky and exhausted this morning i just.." his voice grows quieter until it stops altogether.

"do you like me?" you blurt out, only registering the question after 5 solid seconds. you expect him to stay silent, probably dismiss the question as one of your sickly, nonsensical questions. you open your eyes, prompting your mouth open to speak, but he does it first.

"if there was a word a little bit stronger than like," he stares at you. "i would say that's how i feel about you." he finishes, but coughs awkwardly afterwards. "i'm not trying to force you into anything, though. i know your independence means a lot to y-"

"and what should we do about this mutual feeling?" you joke, though you meant it for real. you see his eyes light up.

"you're unbelievable," he says in disbelief, smiling foolishly.

he slides his hand across yours, giving it a squeeze, to which you return, though a little bit weaker.

"i would ask you to kiss me but i'm sick." you state with a pout.

"i'm gonna do it either way." and he does just that.

[fuck-customers]

(tw ableism, racism)

i never complained about this guy on here but i finally talked to the store lead about this awful guy i work with! said guy, we'll call him don which of course isnt his actual name, is so annoying. for the record, i helped train him, so its not like he's been here for long time. less than a year. anyway, don thinks he's smarter and better than everyone else. he knows everything and everyone else is wrong if they disagree with what he's saying. he's always talking about people behind their backs, and complaining about how no one does their job right, but i guess he does. he's also always spewing some bs about "you should work for satisfaction not money" (girl why are you here then? you hate this job) and "if you really want something you'll get it because you'll do anything for it" and other classist bullshit.

he'll complain about two of our coworkers specifically, who we'll call gina and ben. gina is an older woman, and don is always talking about how she leaves the register to make coffee every hour (gas station, coffee is made every two hours or as needed) and is always away doing something even if there's a line. he also has made some weird comments about the old men who come in and talk to her. he talks about ben the most though, saying he doesnt do anything, he's always disappearing (which, yeah, he does sometimes, but usually i can track him down because i know what he's doing) and calling off (which he used to do, but now he calls off only occasionally, and is definitely not the worst offender in terms of calling off all the time). its also worth noting that ben and gina have been here for years, through multiple managers and store leads and rounds of employees. now, when don and i are at the register, don is usually occupied with stocking cigarettes and the other nicotine products up there, and its nice to have that stuff done, but that means i am the only one ringing people out. even if theres a line. so if someone else leaves him alone at the register, its a problem, but if he leaves me alone, its fine. another thing about ben he doesnt like is his tattoos. ben is a young guy with a ton of tattoos, including face tattoos, and some piercings. don doesn't like that. he was talking about this the other day to me, and he was saying how "businesss shouldn't hire people with tattoos, i wouldn't" (when I told the store lead he said "but there are professionals with tattoos?"), and first off, this is a gas station honey. what i said to don was, "I don't know, I still think those people deserve to eat." he replies, "I don't." i don't know what to say to that.

he also doesn't like me I don't think. we were talking about stuff we have to do, and got on the topic of outside trash, and I said, "Yeah, if I could do outside trash I would, but because of my hand I can't lift the pump trash lids." i have an ongoing issue with my left hand that we think is tendonitis but we aren't sure, and basically i can't put any pressure on any part of my thumb/that part of my palm. to lift the pump trash lids, you have to push inward on the sides with your palm and lift up. obviously i cant do that. but i can lift propane tanks because that's mostly on my fingers. he tells me, "man, i wish i had a brace i could just put in when i didn't want to do something."

my man the other day i sat down on the floor to look for something and i thought it was healed but as soon as i leaned on it i fell because of how much it hurt. I've tried to do pump trash with it, it made it worse.

going back in time, he said something to me that i didn't think much of at the time. he looked up and saod "that's who you remind me of!" and said my voice sounded like his ex girlfriend's. at first i was like okay. whatever. but he mentioned it again later in a way that infuriated me and im about to tell you why.

so, he was going off about "how you should only eat between these times of the day" (directed at me because i mentioned my breakfast that morning? my dude i get up at six for this shift.) and then going off about circadian rhythms and how theres a single set one (which is not true!) and i mentioned that one if the symptoms of adhd is having a circadian rhythm thats out of sync (he knows i have adhd). and then he starts going off about how "no its not, tell me that when its in a medical book" (girl? maybe look at one that isnt outdated) and then that adhd is overdiagnosed (untrue and also a googleable statistic) and pretty much implying that i was just saying i had it to be special and not have to do things, which infuriated me because thats what everyone says about it and what ive been told my whole life, to the point my mom literally had to threaten several schools with legal action because they would not follow my IEP, and then when i said "hey, I'm the one living with this, you aren't," he said "kelly! kelly! you sound so much like her! you're just kelly to me!"

obviously that's kind of a fucked up thing to say.

some other things i hate about this man is that he gets really aggressive when he's frustrated. one day he started slamming things down as he was stocking. he even does it in front of customers! also, as a cherry on top, he was talking to our coworker, and found out she had a lot of black friends, and called her a [n word] lover.

i also know that im not the only person who has problems with him. literally no one likes him. he's always complaining that someone else isnt doing their job right and "if *I* were the manager" and stuff like that. it might be worth mentioning that i only complained because someone suggested i do. i was just going to tough it out for a while since im going back to school soon and will only be dealing with him once a month

one of my coworkers gave me her number if i ever wanted to talk about it, and the store lead said he would try to talk to him (without mentioning me), and this definitely wasn't okay for him to be doing, so we'll see how this goes. also, i think the store lead kept me in the office talking with him (about school and the pandemic and other stuff) for an hour ish so that i wouldn't have to deal with him, since don leaves after an hour of me being there during the week (but we have six hours together on the weekend) so that was nice.

sorry for the long ask. tldr this guys just an all around asshole who doesnt shut up and thinks he's superior to everyone else but my other coworkers are nice people

[rafesgfs]

hoe hoe hoe - part one

Warnings: dark!Steve, student/teacher relationship

Word count: 2.2k

Pairings: Professor!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Your dad's best friend isn't exactly who you thought he'd be.

chris evans masterlist

Walking in the front door, the smell of eggnog, and pine hit your nose, mixing in with the warmth of the newly cooked food in the kitchen. Looking around the house, you registered how much decorating you had left your father to do, pondering whether or not he strained his back putting up the Christmas tree. You'd have to make it up to him somehow.

"Dad! I'm home." you yelled out, stepping out of your shoes. Even with the amount of work he had done, he still had the time to shovel the driveway despite the heavy amount of snow that had precipitated last night. The mixed-breed boxer pawed his way to you, the dog panting as he snuggled himself against your leg. "Hey, cutie."

Your father stuck his head from the kitchen, motioning for you to come into the room. "In the kitchen. I was getting worried that you got stuck in traffic. It's an absolute nightmare coming into the city from 122 right now."

Entering the kitchen with Dodger, you went to hug your dad, your arms wrapping around his waist. The man chuckled, giving your cold body a hug back before kissing your forehead. You sighed, pulling away, looking around the kitchen to see the dining room covered with food. "Traffic was a bitch, but I managed to get out of it. Although, I may have made a couple of people mad, but you gotta do what you have to do, right?"

"You got that right, pumpkin." he replied. For someone with a 20 year old daughter, the man was young, having you with his high school sweetheart at 19. He gestured at the food. "You hungry? I made all of this and I'm not sure that everyone at the party will eat all of this."

"Jesus, Dad, were you drunk when you made all of this? This is enough to feed the whole country." you commented, walking up to the table to grab a mini quiche off the plate. Your tongue swirled around the food, relishing the flavor. It was a gift having your father as a successful chef.

"I may have went overboard with the cooking, but I got excited." he explained, chuckling. Pouring some eggnog in a mug, he offered it to you, taking a sip of his own before announcing his news. "An old friend of mine is coming for the party. My best friend in college. He's in town for the holidays, and he'll be staying with us for a few. That okay?"

You nodded, washing the remaining quiche in the eggnog, swallowing it down. "Yeah, that's fine. Who's this friend of yours? Have I met him before?"

"You used to call him Uncle Steve, but he left for Brooklyn when you were four. I doubt you'd remember him but he gave you that necklace last year when he couldn't make it. He's a professor in Brooklyn now, but he wanted to come to Boston, spend the holidays with us."

"Wait, he gave me this necklace?" you asked, holding up the golden angel wings between your fingers. Your dad nodded, untying the knot on his apron. "Oh, wow. Hey, I officially get to thank him for it."

You dad agreed, nodding again as he popped a mint in his mouth, his teeth grinding down on it. "Yes, you will. He'll appreciate seeing you again. He's been talking about seeing his favorite girl—shit."

"Something wrong?"

"I forgot to pick up the ham today. I've been so busy making everything for today that I completely forgot about the main course for tomorrow." said your father, rubbing the bridge of his nose, mentally slapping himself. He sighed. "Can you take the pie out of the oven when it's ready? I have to run to the store really quick and get the ham."

Shaking your head, you stopped him, pushing his clearly exhausted body into the nearest chair, shaking a finger at him when he tried to stand back up. "No, no, no. You're tired and you need to rest. I'll get the ham, and anything else you need. Text me a list."

"Pumpkin, you don't have to do that. You just got home—" he was cut off by your insistent expression, the man relenting. "Okay, fine. Go to the Costco, they have a better selection there. And drive safe, it's supposed to be snowing tonight but with Massachusetts weather, you never know if it'll start early."

"Gotcha. I'll be back soon. In the meantime, you sit, rest, and text me a list of things I need." you said, grabbing the keys from the table. The cold air hit your face, your cheeks stinging from the impact. You winced, wishing home was somewhere warmer.

The drive to Costco was nostalgic, the familiar buildings and roads bringing back memories so deep you forgot they existed. The little ice cream place reminded you of your first kiss with your first grade boyfriend. You had immediately broken up with him the next day, claiming it was the way he walked when he asked if it was his sloppy peck on the lips. You had lied through your teeth.

Slosh was fun, it made it that much gross to walk through the barely shoveled parking lot, nearly slipping as you reached the entrance. One of the employees by the door handed you a cart, giving you a curt smile before returning to his spot.

Pushing the cart down the aisles, you immediately head to the grocery area, getting a text from your dad of all the food to get. With how short the list was, the cart had been unnecessary, but you decided to get all the last minute Christmas shopping out of the way, grabbing a Christmas card to match the present you had gotten for your father.

You had just bent over, reaching for the ham when you heard your name called, the familiar voice making you look up. A few feet behind you stood your history professor, a surprised smile on his face as he took you in. You returned the smile, stunned by the sight of you professor. "Professor Rogers? Hey, what're you doing here?"

The blond raised an eyebrow, his piercing blue eyes flickering to the necklace visible. He smirked inside, his heart warming at the thought. "I'm in the city for the holidays. I'm staying with a friend, catch up with them. What about you? Any exciting plans for Christmas?"

"Just spending it with my dad." you replied, reaching behind you to randomly grab a ham, not looking at the brand, and dropped it in the cart. "To be honest, I didn't think you could even leave Brooklyn. I mean, you practically worship the city, it's a surprise seeing you outside of it."

Professor Rogers laughed, his laughter was what you imagined angels to sound like. To say you had a tiny crush on the hot professor was understandable, although, so did everyone who had eyes. The professor leaned against the freezer, his eyes never breaking from yours. "Brooklyn's nice but it's nice to get out once in a while. That's a beautiful necklace you have there."

"Thanks, I got it from my dad's friend." you said, blushing slightly at the compliment. Taking a quick look at your phone, you noted you had everything your dad had asked for. Glancing back up at the Professor Rogers, you noticed how close he was, barely a few feet away. You gave him a smile. "It was nice seeing you, Professor. I'll see you in class."

Before you could move your cart, the professor placed a hand on it, motioning for you to pause. The blond scratched the back of his head, rocking back and forth on his heels. "Do you need help with anything? I can help you load this in your car, if you want."

"I didn't realize you worked at Costco, Professor." you teased, earning the cutest blush from the blond. Giggling, you shook your head, enjoying his company a lot more than it was allowed. "Don't worry, it's fine. It's not a lot, and I wouldn't want to bother—"

"You're not." he interrupted, sheepishly staring at the floor. The professor made himself look up, smirking when he realized you were blushing. "I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to. Humor me?"

Call it stupidity or side effects of Steve Rogers' presence, but you wanted to spend more time with him, no matter how domestic the chore. Your smile widened, if possible, and you nodded. "Alright, if you insist. I've gotten everything I need, so I can tag along with you."

"All I really needed was some coffee," Professor Rogers held up the little plastic container filled with coffee grounds. Your thoughts immediately went to his hands wrapped around the cylinder, mentally slapping yourself for finding the simple action hot. "I'm ready to go if you are."

"Oh, okay. Let's go then."

The wall from the grocery area to the checkout was rather fun, the professor making you blush too many times to count, the smile on either of your faces never leaving. It wasn't a secret how many people fought to be in his class, guys included, mostly trying to "bond" with the professor only to get turned down every time someone had the balls to ask him. But it never stopped anyone from trying. It was almost pathetic, but very amusing in a sadistic way.

Professor Rogers held your grocery bags in his hands, effortlessly carrying them while you tried to take them back, feeling bad for having your professor help you out. The man would wave away your pleas, and you gave up as soon as you neared your car, unlocking the doors, and opened the trunk, Professor Rogers unloading all the bags inside. You bit back a smile, admiring the view, jealously wondering who would be lucky enough to end up as his wife.

He closed up the trunk once he was done, shifting his weight between his feet. "So, are you staying in Boston for the whole break or...?"

"Yup. I haven't spent much time with my dad since summer, and I've been guilted to stay in the cold since he's too stubborn to go somewhere warmer." you answered, playfully rolling your eyes. Professor Rogers walked you to the driver's side while you played with your keys, not wanting to say goodbye to him already. "What about you?"

"Me, too." said the professor, tucking his hands in his winter coat. He sighed, the smile dropping. "It was really nice to see you. I'll see you soon, sweetheart."

You nearly swooned at the nickname, cursing your heart for being so easily affected. "You, too, Professor. Happy Holidays and all that."

He laughed, walking off with a wave, the smile that had fallen now impended on his face as he walked back to his car. Steve turned around to see you get in yours, unsubtly staring at your ass. He sighed once again, a wave of sadness washing over him, the feeling he got every time he had to say goodbye to you. It would only be a couple of minutes, but it didn't make him hate it any less.

You drove off after a few seconds of getting your shit together; seeing your unbearable hot professor made you feel like a disgusting head-over-heels in love teenager. Or in other words, it made you the same as those desperate girls back on campus. You scoffed at the thought, starting your car. Hopefully, you'd see him again before class starts, but you highly doubt it.

Snow was falling, the little flurries making it harder to see through the windshield, only to stop suddenly when you reached your house. You grabbed the groceries from the trunk, easily carrying it into the house, so focused on not slipping that you hadn't noticed a very familiar car in the driveway.

Opening the door with ease, you entered the house, almost getting knocked out by the eager dog, jumping up on you. Laughing, you placed all the bags in one arm, reaching down with your free one to pet Dodger. The dog panted happily, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as it dismounted it's paws off your legs. The house had gotten awfully warm, even for you, and you immediately set the bags down to take off your coat. You hadn't noticed the shoes besides the door.

"Dad, I'm back." you announced, picking up the bags and headed to the kitchen, your gaze on the floor, careful not to slip.

Your father clapped Steve's back, the broad blond's presence gone unnoticed by you while you dropped the bags on the kitchen island. Your dad smiled. "Thanks, pumpkin. Honey, this is Steve, my buddy from college."

You turned around, facing them, a grin on your face, only to drop slightly when you saw who Steve was. There, standing in the middle of your kitchen, stood your history professor, all six feet of him, nonchalantly grinning at you. He engulfed you in a hug, leaving you breathless. "Professor?"

"Hello, sweetheart."

next >

[applejongho]

cherry on top | choi jongho

genre: fluff, realistic fiction, humor

character: starbucks employee!jongho

description: Jongho has an interesting run-in with a Karen during his shift at Starbucks.

word count: 2k

warnings: mild swearing

author’s note: jongho as a coffee barista was swimming in my mind for quite some time, so here he is. 

masterlist here!

There was something about that coffee stain on Jongho's employee shirt that made it impossible to get rid of. It was likely the mix of the ingredients that had stacked the receipt when it was printed, but Jongho couldn't help but feel she had somehow planned this as he scrubbed harder with bleach.

Jongho wouldn't have guessed the day to turn out as it did, but maybe he should have. Working with the public was always a gamble, but Jongho's optimism blinded him. Most customers were nice enough. Most customers gave a smile when he handed them their overpriced coffee. There weren't too many comments about his red and black hair, and he could shrug off all of them. The compliments were what he remembered.

The day started off normally - with Jongho's coworkers nudging him towards the mound of bagged coffee beans. "I could do it myself, but you just do it quicker, you know?" One of his coworkers had whined, twirling a piece of curly hair around her finger. "It" was picking up the bags of coffee beans to put into the grinder, and Jongho didn't mind it.  As he slung a bag over his shoulder with ease and glanced at her, he could swear her face flushed. Perhaps it was just the sun. The sun hit her face like that when he broke apples in half with his bare hands too. It was strange how the universe liked her like that.

After his bean tasks, Jongho took to the drive-thru of the coffee shop. He was told he had a nice voice, but he doubted he sounded that heavenly through a cheap speaker that hadn't been changed for five years. Nonetheless, Jongho enjoyed doing the drive-thru and taking orders. When there were multiple drive-thru lanes open, he would challenge his coworkers to see who could get through orders the fastest. This caused him and his coworkers to resent vans - vans almost always meant there was a large order - a sure loss, unless Jongho's fingers could learn to dance very quickly on the ordering screen.

Taking orders via the drive thru took up his morning, and then he was released for his lunch break. His coworkers had become accustomed to bringing him apples for the sole purpose of him to break them. He didn't mind, and it allowed him to be more comfortable with his coworkers because he could sometimes be shy. "Is that why part of your hair is red?" A coworker had asked him one day after he had broken multiple apples in a row. Jongho shook his head.

"No. Just red," he shrugged, ignoring his coworker's eyebrow raise. "I just like the color red." He thought he looked good with it.

But not everyone agreed - there were some customers that liked to point it out, like he had never seen himself in a reflection before. "You missed the roots," an older woman had told him at the register and gestured to his hair. Jongho added fifty cents to her order.

But for this day in particular, his hair was the reason for his downfall. For the latter half of the day, Jongho would be at the register. He yearned to be in the bar making drinks because it could become so mindless at points, but he was placed in front of the register before he could say anything. He assumed it was because he was the longest working employee out of the staff today, and Jongho vaguely remembered a newbie was working with him. He guessed the manager didn't want them at the register. The register wasn't much different than the drive thru, but there was something about actually seeing the customer or touching their cash or credit card that made it not enjoyable for Jongho.

About an hour into working at the register, Karen walked in. Jongho saw her and his stomach dropped. She looked exactly like a Karen should look: bobbed blonde hair with caramel highlights that were too dark, opaque and round sunglasses, an obnoxiously pink phone case, and a tacky red American flag shirt that said something about how America was blessed. Jongho knew he shouldn't judge people so quickly, but he had dealt with this breed of women before. He had to brace himself for the worst and the unexpected.

"Hello, ma'am," he said cheerfully when Karen got to the front of the line. Her dark sunglasses obscured her eyes, but she was clearly paying attention to her phone instead of him. She suddenly realized she was in Starbucks and lifted up her glasses. She took one look at Jongho's name tag.

"Hello, John," she said, and Jongho had to bite his tongue to keep from making a noise.

"Jongho," he said.

"John," she continued, and listed off her order, Jongho begrudgingly typing it in as she spoke. It's not that hard of a name, he thought to himself as he kept typing. Why was Karen's order so long? Jongho kept translating her vegan, dairy-free, blood-of-firstborn, extra-expresso venti iced coffee into the system until she stopped talking, and even then she wasn't done.

"So is everyone your age just dying their hair like that?" Karen said without prologue. "I'd never let my kid dye their hair like that. It's so unprofessional."

"Thank you," Jongho said, dodging the question and not wanting to provoke her. He hoped his cheeks weren't also red. "Here's your total. Cash or credit?"

Karen pulled out her purse, but not without clicking her tongue in annoyance. "You all really should lower the prices. It's too damn expensive."

Then make your own, Jongho wanted to reply, but he held his tongue. "I wish I could," he said with a smile. Karen frowned in return, and, without warning, dumped her entire coin bag onto the counter. Jongho yelped and scrambled to keep flying pennies and quarters from rolling off of the counter. In the corner of his eye, a coworker ogled Karen.

"I used the bills to buy my groceries, so I'll pay in coins," Karen yawned while Jongho threw himself onto the floor to make sure no coins had reached there. He got up, plastering on a fake smile. He hadn't had a customer like this in a long time, but if he could just get through her, everything would be okay. He reached for her quarters first and began counting dollars. He knew for a fact that his manager wouldn't have tolerated this kind of behavior from a customer, but Jongho knew he could be too soft at times. Besides, her jangling keys on her wrist glimmered and showed off their sharpness. He swore he saw her teeth glimmer as well.

"Hurry up," Karen said after a few seconds. "Count faster."

Jongho considered shoving pennies into her eyes. "Certainly," he said, and tried to pick up his pace. He could feel her eyes burning on his neck as he shoved the change into the cash register. He pushed her receipt over to her and eagerly began with the customer behind her, glad to be ridden of her.

But his escape was short lived. He heard a whine from the corner of the store and knew it was the Karen immediately. He was currently helping out a different customer, but there was no one else in line behind them. He'd deal with it after the customer if things escalated with Karen.

"Are you sure you made this correctly?" Karen snarled at Jongho's coworker, her nostrils flailing. The coworker looked like she wanted to sink into the floor. "This doesn't taste like how it usually does. Make it again."

Jongho wouldn't have done anything - customers asked for drinks to be remade frequently. But this was Karen, and upon further inspection, this was the new employee that his manager had talked about. He couldn't leave her hanging, it would be rude as an older and more experienced employee. Jongho finished ringing up the final customer and went over to Karen and the other coworker.

"Cherry head," Karen growled, and Jongho only raised his eyebrows. That was a new one.

"I'll make a new one, ma'am, sorry," he said, taking the drink from her. "I'm sure you were fine," he muttered to the worried coworker and was pleased to see her smile.

Iced coffee wasn't difficult, and with the lack of new customers Jongho took the time to make sure the drink was entirely accurate. It's not that she deserved a drink, it's that he wanted her out of the store as soon as possible. He even had the temperature right, and gave it a perfect dairy-free whipped cream swirl at the top before handing it back to her.

Karen ogled the drink for a moment, looking back and forth at the cup and Jongho. Then she threw the drink at him.

The whipped cream top hit Jongho square in the face and he could taste it. Then came the slow and cold trickle of the coffee down his apron and shirt underneath, and at that moment, he was so glad she hadn't ordered anything hot.

"I said I didn't want whipped cream!" Karen bellowed, but Jongho's choir practice had made him desensitized to loud vocals. He wiped the whipped cream from his face and looked at Karen straight in the eyes.

"Get out," he said coldly. "There's a Dunkin across the parking lot. They can have your coins." He paused for a moment, and then his mouth twitched upward. "My name is John, you can write me up if you want. I don't care."

"I will be," Karen growled, red-faced and clutching her purse at her side like Jongho was going to reach out and nab it. he couldn't believe Karen thought that she was the victim here when Jongho had a new fluffy white beard adorning his face.

"John's right," a third coworker said, coming from behind. He could vaguely hear his laugh under his voice. "We don't tolerate harassment on our employees. You're the one that could end up in trouble."

Karen stared daggers at this new employee, and Jongho was surprised she didn't jump over the counter to tackle him. "Good riddance, I knew Starbucks was going downhill anyway." She gave one last snarl at Jongho, who fluffed up his hair at her glance, before walking out of the Starbucks.

The three employees were silent, and then Jongho felt a towel touch his arm. "Oh my God, Jongho, I'm sorry," the third coworker said.

"I don't think I've ever been drenched quite as much as I am now," he said, accepting the towel. He began to dry himself off as best he could, but he knew his face and clothes were going to be sticky for the remainder of the shift.

"I think there's another apron in the back," the new coworker said, and then scurried off to get it before Jongho could say anything.

"I'm just glad it wasn't her that got absolutely wrecked by coffee," the other coworker murmured. "I think she might have cried."

Jongho nodded, still drying himself off. It was a terrible feeling, the coffee all over his skin and clothes, but now that she was gone, he couldn't help but smile. It was comical, how insane the public could be. "I hope John gets hell for what he did," he smiled.

"Absolutely," the coworker agreed, laughing. The new coworker arrived back with the apron, which Jongho gratefully took.

"Give me a minute to clean up," he told the both of them before going to the back to inspect the wreckage on his clothes and face. It could have been better, but it also could have been worse. He licked a part of the whipped cream that was near his lips and grimaced at the flavor. Despite it all, Jongho was amused at the situation. It kept him on his toes. It would be a funny story to share at a party. Jongho wrote a note in his phone to re-dye his red tips when he got home. Then, smiling, he returned to work.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

Introductory prologue. The main pairing will be established ironstrange x reader. This story will be rated explicit, have some canon-typical violence and language. The 'fuck' harvest is bountiful this time of the year. Updates - irregular so far, I'm posting it as I go.

No y/n, no "you", no name - nickname only, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns. Please leave a comment if you spot a stray 'blushing' or the likes, I write as it flows and sometimes miss those words when I proofread. I try to be inclusive of all my readers.

"Your total is twelve dollars, seventeen cents," I rattled off on autopilot, casting a glance at the cash register and plastering an automatic smile onto my face. The pleasant expression was frozen on it, stuck like glue, despite the news I had received earlier in the day. "Thank you, have a nice day," I doubted the customer actually heard my words.

One of those business-types, wearing a tailored two-piece, with a Bluetooth headset attached to their ear and brain always a mile away, our little coffee shop a mild interruption in their daily routine of making more and more money. "Hello, how can I help you?" I addressed the next customer, my eyes unseeing, gliding over their face and to the storefront where I noticed we were running low on eclairs and carrot cake.

"Hey, Starlight," the woman's voice was familiar, tone soothing, as I snapped my eyes to meet a pair of reddish-brown ones, staring at me with concern. "The usual," our city's very own superhero; Wanda Maximoff stood before me with her head curiously tilted to the side and her brother hovering behind her, examining the assortment of various cakes on display. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," I sighed, sending off the organic, single-use cups with scribbles off to Dave, our barista. Wanda's order was large, usually about ten or twelve coffees and quite a few treats, so I donned on some nitrile gloves to package the treats while Dave handled the drinks with practiced ease. I admired his stoicism. "Might be seeing a bit less of me," the woman's eyebrows rose in displeasure at my admission.

"Tony won't be happy," Wanda mumbled, side-eyeing the backdoor behind which my boss usually resided during the day. "You got fired?" The words attracted the attention of her brother. Pietro was immediately at her side, joining into the concerned staring.

"Nope," I popped the 'p', methodically shoving the food in its packaging. "The café is expanding hours and our shifts are being split now. Jeremy is dead set on me working the graveyard shift, so I'll be here six AM to two PM," I couldn't help the sigh that left my lips.

My boss, Jeremy, had opened his boulangerie little over two years ago, and as he had predicted, it set off almost immediately. The place was located almost in the heart of the dozen corporate sky-rises full of busy, wealthy people who liked their things to be both instant and luxurious. Jeremy had fit right in with the law sharks and business vultures, if you ask me, with his penchant for demanding the impossible.

I was expecting an increase in work hours, I wasn't going to lie - our little cafe was busy nearly all the time it was open - but the fact that he chose to split a day's shift came as a punch to the gut. Like most service staff, I made most of my money from the tips, and they and they only were the only reason I stayed in a place with a shrew for a boss and the worst health insurance in the area. Thankfully, the rich businessmen from local offices didn't count their money and left me more than generous tips.

The coffee machine beeped for the last time as Dave passed me the three cupholders before I carefully bagged them, arranging the treats on top. I saw Wanda lick her lips at the aromas coming from the paper bag before Pietro snatched them out of my grasp. I rattled off the total, catching Wanda's eye as she passed me several twenty dollar bills, waving off my attempt to return the change.

"Penny for your wandering thoughts?" She smiled warmly as I chuckled at the question I've grown to expect with a quiet sort of joy.

The first time she'd wandered in, soaking wet from the rain and looking as lost as a child in a mall, ten minutes before closing time, I was reading my book right at the counter as I waited for the coffee machine to clean itself. I hadn't even noticed the quiet woman until her words startled me out of the book-induced trance and I shamefully had to ask her to repeat herself, hastily shoving my book under the counter. She smiled at me, shyly, and asked me about my reading instead of rattling an order for one of the sickly sweet caffeine concoctions female customers seemed to love. And she returned in a few days, asking the same question after taking a careful look at my face.

"And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about." I took a careful moment to recall a paragraph from the book I was currently reading, Murakami's 'Kafka on the Shore'. It seemed fitting, with all that had been going on in my life recently. I was still caught in the middle of the storm, unsure if I'd make it out but hoping for it nonetheless.

"That's beautiful," Pietro smiled at me, the tips of his silver hair reflecting the lights of the cafe's baroque style chandeliers. I barely managed to smile at him as he was already speeding off, the entrance door banging shut behind a blur of white and blue. Each time he did that, I couldn't help but wonder how he managed to not spill any of the hot beverages.

"Because it's true," Wanda added with a comforting smile. I nodded in agreement, hoping some of her positive attitude would dissipate the sense of doom I'd been lugging around all day. She departed, taking the sense of comfort with her, as I caught the tail end of something shouted in Sokovian - something that sounded exactly in place, coming from one disgruntled sibling to another.

When the residents of the nearby Stark tower began frequenting my workplace, I barely had the composure to stifle my quiet fangirling to socially acceptable levels. Not long after the Scarlet Witch turned a semi-regular, she started bringing her colleagues with her - Hawkeye at first, who was a decent, normal dude; he looked like an exasperated dad and Pietro appeared every thing the rambunctious son, as the younger man peppered the older man with questions about the cakes on our display.

They all had fancy names, but at the bottom of it, a chocolate cake was a chocolate cake. That much I told them, with a snort, earning myself a lopsided grin and a generous tip as I patiently listed off the more commonly used, simplified designations for the twins as the knowledge of them being European immigrants crossed my mind.

After Hawkeye came the Black Widow, and then Captain America with a sunny smile and his moody boyfriend in tow. While Bucky Barnes' expression was generally sour, the man had a wicked sweet tooth, shoveling frosted, glazed treats at the rate of a competitive eater. Both men were extremely polite if not very chatty and tipped well.

Tony Stark himself - well, he was a special one. His sense of humour trailed on the fine line of obscene, oftentimes raising the eyebrows of nearby people standing in line. I wasn't born yesterday, either: years of customer service work left me with little-to-no surprise regarding overzealous men and I could quip back equally as sharply, just slightly south of Tony's own jokes. He never overstepped, however, and with time, I developed a quiet appreciation for our small talks.

Which did brighten up my day, if only a little. "A little birdy told me your boss is being a douchebag. Want me to clean up that muck?" Tony was, as usual, wearing a bespoke suit and sunglasses, which he'd pushed up to his forehead as he frivolously leaned on the counter after placing his order.

I sighed, remembering Wanda's words. I didn't know what to expect from the eccentric billionaire; last of all, I didn't want any handouts. I'd started a search for a second part-time job the very day I got told my pay would be essentially cut in half. "No need, Mr. Stark, I'm gonna be fine and dandy," I replied with a smile that I was sure didn't really reach my eyes. "We'll still be able to resume our nice chit-chat at brunch on Saturdays," I winked, hoping to keep up the usual light atmosphere of our banter.

"I told you to call me Tony!" He exclaimed, like always, shaking his head and glaring at the back door. "Yeah, no," the man had absolutely no chill. "I'll still sic the IRS on him," the last part was said quietly. Mr. Stark often spoke to himself.

I laughed at the rich-kid, spoilt way he was acting. A grown man with an attitude of a teenager and a sweet tooth to match one - except for his coffee. That was always the strongest, blackest one we had on hand. I hadn't even heard of a triple espresso until Mr. Stark had waltzed in, skipping the line and filling the air around him with the smells of cologne that smelled like money, motor oil, iron and soot.

The moment I opened my e-mail at home, I felt my gloomy mood worsen, Mr. Stark's words echoing in my head. I'd sent my resumes to two dozen places and only a handful even bothered to reply - all preemptive rejections, there weren't businesses needing a part-time employee with a useless degree, who could only work evenings. Except bars, but they required some sort of certificate for bartenders and lots and lots of bare skin for waitresses. I tried to steer away from that part of the industry as much as I could, saving it as a last resort option.

It had come down to browsing Craigslist as I ate my way through a carton of cheap take-out, too exhausted to cook and too anxious to go out to the nearby bodega after 9 PM. One more negative side of working late shift - making my way home in the dead of the night in NYC and hoping Spider-Man was hanging out nearby should a thug decide on me to be their next victim. The joys of big city life.

As the column of various ads stared at me with various suspicious offers to make quick money, ads for 'young, sociable women' and I stared back at them in muted disgust. The 'looking for a job' section was much more sensible with the few ads I'd clicked on out of curiosity depicting people seemingly in a similar situation as me - short on money but not desperate enough to surrender their dignity to corporate greed. The decision was momentary - I'd started typing and hit the post button before I was through with my food, slapping my old laptop shut as soon as the as posted.

Hopefully, the creeps will stay away. The next couple of days stretched out slowly as I got up at the crack of dawn to open the shop, served the early birds whilst sipping my own matcha latte and clocked out not a second later than 2PM, taking home half the usual amount of tips. My e-mail remained as silent as ever, only a few suspicious replies to my ad, texts that I didn't even bother replying to. Human trafficking and pyramid schemes, was that all that NYC had to offer?

Apparently, not. Around 6PM, my phone dinged as a notification popped up and I scrambled to read it - all too aware of the upcoming rent day, and was pleasantly surprised with the contents of the e-mail, re-reading it several times to make sure there weren't any hidden stones under the water. I replied with my phone number, not expecting it to ring within minutes of hitting the send button.

"Hello?"

"Hi, we just corresponded," the voice on the other side was feminine but slightly rough, as if it's owner spent days chain-smoking. "I would like to invite you for a small interview, if you wouldn't mind."

I chewed on my lip in contemplation. "Could I ask you some questions first?" The levels of anxiety, I thought, were reasonable in the situation. It mutely gnawed at my chest.

"Sure," the woman agreed amicably. "My name is Odette, by the way," she mentioned off-handedly, the name fitting her voice in a strange way.

"Uh, well," I stammered. "You mentioned it's a herbal medicine shop, you're not selling weed under the counter, are you?" I voiced my worries meekly, hoping for an honest answer.

The woman laughed, a sharp, terse sound. "No, dear, I do not sell or possess anything illegal. I merely offer supplies for the locals that prefer natural, alternative medicine." She sounded jovial.

"Like - um, healing crystals?" I vaguely remembered reading about them on the internet, or seeing them in a YouTube video, perhaps.

"Yes, we sell those, too," her tone grew more joyful at the mention of the shiny rocks. I didn't think that they actually cured anything, to be honest, however I was willing to give it some credit - the placebo effect was a scientific fact. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.

"Okay then," I chuckled nervously. "I'm free tomorrow after 3 PM."

"Grand. The shop is open until 10 PM, just say your name at the counter and I'll be right with you."

As soon as I hung up, relief and curiosity and trepidation blossomed within me, imagination unhelpfully supplying images of human trafficking documentaries, basements with chains and other, less horrifying but still unusual things. The pep talk over a wine glass that I had was necessary: it was a herbal shop, for fuck's sake. Worst case, I'm going to work with Karens who think the Earth is flat and quartz cures cancer. I could even get a funny story or two out of those, something to share with Bucky or Wanda in lieu of the usual book quotes I entertain them with.

The day went by smoothly, the café no more and no less busy than usual so after a brief detour back home to put on something that didn't smell like coffee grounds and yeast: comfortable pants and a soft sweater, something that would keep me warm but would not unnecessarily restrict any movement. My good luck charm, a large oval necklace with a shiny gold star in the middle, hung heavily around my neck, providing quiet comfort.

Heart thudding in my chest, I approached the old-style, inconspicuous building, double-checking the address before opening the old, heavy wooden door right at the corner of the building. It was like a movie scene, in a way - the day was overcast, meager sun rays shining through the lead curtain of clouds, the streets were clear and few honks rung out in the far end of block, sending a flock of pigeons into a lazy scatter over the slanted roof. The door creaked softly, the handle cold under my touch, instantly filling my nose with a strong smell of herbs so plentiful, I could not distinguish one from another.

Inside didn't look any less intriguing: the décor was outdated but somehow fitting and homely, high wooden shelves stocked with glass jars and wooden boxes with neatly placed labels on them. The counter was empty - save for a large, golden bell, which I timidly pressed.

The woman who emerged from behind the worn cotton curtains behind the counter most certainly was impressive. Tall and broad, with dark eyebrows and even darker eyes, she critically surveyed me for a moment, making me shiver under her gaze - and then she smiled, revealing rows of pearly white teeth and instantaneously losing the imposing aura around her.

"Um, hi- I'm-" I didn't get to finish my nervous stammering.

She interrupted me with a careless wave of her hand. "Here for the interview. Yes. Welcome, Star," her eyes briefly fell on my necklace while I struggled to swallow the unease.

I hadn't told her my nickname - to be honest, these days, I heard it more often than my given name. People quickly took notice of my love of star-patterned items and teased me relentlessly over it, losing heat only when I calmly went along with it, too used to hearing the same jokes since my early childhood.

Odette motioned me over, parting the curtains to reveal a tiny, but tastefully decorated hall with two doors on each side and a staircase at the far end of it. I followed her into the room on the left, which turned out to be a peculiar sort of office. I thought I noticed an Ouija board in there but wisely kept my mouth shut.

"I live on the floor above the shop so don't go throwing any parties while you're on the job," she remarked playfully, gesturing to a pot of tea. "It's peppermint, does wonders for calming one's demeanor," the gesture was sweet - and very telling.

I wondered if I looked as spooked as I felt. After all, it didn't seem like Odette and her business were fishy in any way, and the décor and atmosphere were quite... Appealing, in a way. Something magical, something belonging in Europe or on a high schooler's Pinterest board. I sipped my tea in-between questions, thinking how maybe, I could actually grow accustomed to this place.

The shopkeeper acted as if I'd already accepted the job and I - well, it's not like I had any other options waiting for me. The pay was more than I expected it to be, for such a small bodega and a part-time shift, and it would help me cover my bills with enough to spare. The customers were said to be mostly regular and undemanding, with a few rare exceptions, and should I need assistance, the owner was always a call and a floor away.

With a considerably lighter heart, I left to pad the damp sidewalk back towards my house. Thankfully, my new workplace was only a short walk away.

The tag list is open until the story is finished. Please use the 'taglist' Google form to request (top of the fic, clickable link).

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

[glitterge1pen]

Crayons Not Cigarettes

Kyōtani Kentarou x reader, sfw, fluff, word count 2,770

If you looked it up on google the descriptors were "small venue" and "sports arena" and "stadium". The place took roughly ten minutes to walk around, the parking lot was huge, and it had those bright white lights out in the front. The entrance was a bit grand, big pillars with dozens of different sports flags. Tons of different teams, tournaments, and practices were held here.

You were starting your part time job at the concession stands today. You had already gone through the training a couple days ago, all that was left was actually doing your job. You were hoping you had a good shift partner, that you didn't spill any drinks, that people would be nice to you.

Tonight there was a volleyball match, you decide the crowd was decent for thirty minutes before game time. The regular attendees stood in lines at the front gates, waiting to be let in. Walking up to the employee only entrance you struggled with your key card to get it open. This was exactly how your manager had done it on training day. There was only five more minutes before your shift started, you were starting to worry you might be late.

"Turn it over"

You whipped around to see another person standing right behind you. He had blonde dyed hair with black streaks, and his eyes doused in eyeliner.

"Oh, thanks"

You kinda mumble it out, embarrassed that this very cute stranger had to see you struggle opening a door.

"Do you work here too?"

You ask as you hold the door open for him.

"No"

You take his short reply as him saying the conversation is over. You still have to awkwardly walk next to him down the long employee corridor though. After a rather long pause he continues speaking.

"I'm a volleyball player. On game days we get to use the employee entrances and doors."

"Really? That's cool,"

Up further down the hall you can see where your paths will diverge.

"Well I hope the game goes well for you"

He says nothing, but does nod his head before leaving for the locker room area. You turn the other way to the employee office. Put your jacket and bag into a locker, clock in on the old desktop, and walk out to the counter to start your shift. Your shift partner isn't there yet so you begin setting things up at the booth alone.

You flick on all the machines, filling up the icee mixer with dyed flavors, a new pouch of cheese for the nacho dispenser. You unpackage plastic cups, open up different cupboards and drawers trying to familiarize yourself before you have to start serving people. You get change from the back, filling up the register. Finally your shift partner shows up. Just in time to because you start to hear the sounds of people entering.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Your next shift was for a highschool gymnastics tournament. The concessions stand was in a large hallway between different gymnasiums, wedged between the gift shop and Subway. Since it was a smaller event you were the only one working the counter. Hardly anyone was buying anything though. The fan behind the counter gave a gentle hum, the music rather quiet amongst the sounds of people.

“You still got bottled water?”

It was that guy from your first day. You duck below the counter to grab a bottle, hand it to him and start ringing up the total.

“You guys won that game the other day, right?”

You knew they had won. You had spent your break trying to get a glimpse of the player who you had spoken to. You had only gotten to see him for a few moments, his body in the air, hand coming down on the ball sending it over the net in one fluid motion. After pulling the metal shutters down over the counter at closing, you had walked back to the courts to confirm the score.

“Yeah,”

It was here that another volleyball player came up to the counter.

“I told you that you could use one of my extra water bottles! You didn't have to go and buy one!”  

The other player turned his attention to you.

“Sorry that my scary friend is bothering you-”

“Scary?”

You asked confused, but he kept talking.

“I’m Konganegawa, me and Kyotani are both Sendai Frogs!”

Kyotani.

“Nice to meet you both”

You say.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Kyotani sat on the counter of the concession stand. You liked it when he was perched up there, he warded customers off fairly well. You were certain that practice had ended a while ago, but you said nothing in fear of sending him away. He didn't always say much, or anything sometimes, but his presence was comforting to you. Even if it wasn't always abundantly clear you could tell he paid attention to you, like he was standing watch.

He knew your schedule, what snacks to buy for you on break, what songs you liked best on your manager's store playlist. He had quickly become your favorite part of work. It didn't matter who you shared shifts with, if you had gotten swamped at the register, or if you had to mindlessly wipe the counters with boredom. As long as Kyotani was there work wasn't ever terrible.

“The team is having a get together”

You had been re-arranging the plastic utensils on the counter but stopped to listen to him.

“You wanna come?”

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“And you like Kyotani? Like you’d want to go on a date with him?”

Yamaguchi was teasing you, his voice trying to communicate how ridiculous he thought the notion was. You had quickly grown close to him after tagging along to a few of the Sendai Frog events. He came to every game and usually made an appearance at the concession stand to chat with you or you would find him in the stands. Today was one of those days.

“You are literally dating Tsukkishima”

Yamaguchi perked up in defense,

“They are nothing alike!”

“That I can agree on”

Both of you dissolving into laughs. Yamaguchi's face steadied and got more serious.

“You really do feel that way about him?”

He asked.

“Yes, I mean even when we first met I thought he was cute, and we keep hanging out more and more, and I just keep liking him more and more”

Yamaguchi looked ready to say something else when he stopped himself. You turned around, suddenly feeling another's company. Kyotani was right there, you wondered if he had heard anything you said but his expression betrayed nothing.

“You're on your break?”

“Yeah, what's up?”

He seemed, you couldn't find the exact word, but it was between dejected and bitter. You wanted to ask if he was okay but he spoke first.

“I thought you'd be watching the game”

“We had been,”

Yamaguchi said, jumping into the conversation.

“Yeah, the first set was just about to end, concessions is gonna be swamped when I get back”

You said, you trying to meet Kyotani’s eyes, to see if they would reveal anything to you but no such luck was granted.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You try to focus on the customers you have. A dance competition was in the big gym today, the entire place was packed. You hand out bags of popcorn, perfectly filled cups of beer to the brim. At one of the tables placed outside your stand is Kyotnai. He was practically stewing, his aura strong and unavoidable. He was making it harder to count out change and your eyes kept drifting from customers to him. He had been sitting there for a while. You thought that maybe someone else from the team would come drag him back to practice, but that didn't happen.

The last customer in line left, the competition having gotten louder, more intense, pulling people away from the food. That last customer was replaced with Kyotani’s scrunched up sulking, angry face. Normally you wouldn't call it sulking, just angry or annoyed, but he definitely had traces of sulking on him.

“A couple weeks ago,”

He got this part out fine, but the rest of his words came a little more quiet.

“You had been talking to Yamaguchi on your break during a game, who were you talking about?”

You don't know what to say. You stumble over a few words, none of them sounding right. He was so direct and challenging, you felt as if no matter what you said he would eventually pull it from you. You only managed to get one word out properly.

“Why?”

He didn't answer and this surprised you.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Kyotani stood under one of the lamps outside the main entrance. You thought you could see the outline of a  pack of cigarettes in his pocket. He didn't smell like smoke and you had never seen him do it before. You didn't move for a moment wondering if you could catch him smoking now.

“Hey fuckface! We going or not?”

Kyotani had spotted you and called out.

“Yeah, yeah”

You said rushing over to meet him. You could no longer count on your fingers how many times you had hung out with him. A couple of movies, lots of grabbing food after his practice or your shift, that time you found out he couldn't roller skate, that one trip to the museum. He had kissed one of the statues in defiance when you told him to stop touching things. Unfortunately for him that was the exact moment you had pulled out your phone to snap some pictures.

Today though he was tagging along with you to the store. You needed to pick a couple things up before going home. He had offered to drive. In the car, you recounted that day's incidents. A spilled soda on your pants, a customer yelling at you about their cotton candy, and getting scolded for coming in five minutes late.

“Why are you working there? Not that it’s bad, but you kinda hate it”

“Anyone hates working in a job where you have to give people food and wear a collared shirt, plus I don't hate it you're there”

That part about him wasn’t something you planned to say and you chose to ignore the seinement and keep talking.

“I’m just trying to save up money right now, I have other things in life I want, and you?”

You asked, at the light he stopped to look at you.

“What do you mean?”

“You just have volleyball brain, that's it?”

He hesitated here, it was brief but it was there.

“Volleyball brain is my diagnosis”

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Once in the store Kyotani pushed a cart around while you led him up and down different aisles. You pulled off bottles of dish soap, a pack of clorox wipes. You were going to turn down to the electronics center to see if they had any cute phone cases you might want when Kyotani cut in front of you with the cart.

“Let’s go the other way”

“It’s faster if we go this way”

You tried walking past him but he didn't budge. You huff, and shoulder check him when turning in the direction he wants to go. This happens a few more times. You wanted to loop around to the grocery aisle when he insisted you lap the whole store instead of just cutting past the toys and books. You forgot to grab that extra phone charger you had been wanting and he wouldn't let you pass by the magazines to get it. In the end you had waited with the cart while he went to grab it for you.

When you were loading the bags into the back seat of his car he asked what you wanted to eat.

“You sure you want to go out? You seemed nervous in the store”

You say.

“I’m fucking hungry”

Is all he says, but you know he's trying to lighten the mood from the strange way he was acting in the store. In the car he lets you pick the music and roll the windows down.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

It was a weekend morning and once again you were back at the store. You thought about the last time you were here a couple weeks before with Kyotani. Recently you have fallen into a type of rhythm with Kyotani. You spent a lot of your free time with him, with each other's friends, your lives were almost totally meshed together. More often than not people assumed you two were dating. Even if you wanted that to be true you were still unsure how he felt about you.

You had your basket and were on the way to the check out when spotted a book on display. Oftentimes you would send pictures of frogs and frog merchandise to the Sendai Frog group chat you had been roped into. Even if you weren't on the team you had officially been adopted into the group because “you work for home base!” according to Koganegawa. You picked the book up off the shelf.

They were the cutest drawings you had ever seen. They were simple and rough. Done in crayon which made them so charming. The title of the book was Frogs Go Ribbit! , if the display card was right this was the authors fourth picture book and so far the most popular. You opened up the first pages.

Frogs ribbit all day long

When they snooze and when they watch the morning news

Each frog had different types of music notes drawn coming from their mouth. Some frogs had bright colorful notes, one had notes that looked like plants and flowers, one had notes covered in flames. The one with flames had dark lines drawn under its eyes. It reminded you of Kyotani, if you weren't going to buy the book before you were now. You turned the page. Then snapped it shut.

At the movies buying tickets, during museum visits  

It was you. Sure you were a little crayon cartoon but that was you. It was you and a little frog that looked like Kyotani. That was your hair, your favorite pair of shoes. It was you and frog Kyotani in line buying movie tickets. You pull out your phone and scroll back in your photos to when you and Kyotani had first gone to the movies. It was even the same outfit. On the museum page you gasped when you realized who the other frog was.

Tsukishima's frog had glasses, a figure that was unmistakably Yamaguchi pointing in excitement at a painting next to the frog. There was no way it wasnt Yamaguchi and Tsukki. The green tufts of hair, you had helped him dye many times now so obvious. You and Kyotani were on the museum page as well. Kyotanis frog sticking its tongue out to latch onto a statue while you hit him on the head. Little yellow exclamations drawn around the point of impact. You flipped to the next page.

In the trees, on the court they ribbit, ribbit, ribbit! It fills their hearts!

There was a Koganegawa frog hidden in a basket of volleyballs. Tsukishima's frog blocking a serve from Yamaguchi with its tongue. Yachi was also on this page cheering from the stands. You were crouched down next to Kyotani’s frog patting him on the head, a doodle of a heart floating off him. The rest of the team was there drawn as frogs as well. Sure they weren't wearing jerseys with their numbers, there wasn't a Sendai Frogs banner, but that was them.

You flip through the rest of the book rather quickly. The book telling the tale of how frogs need to take breaks from their ribbits, how they need to eat well, sleep well, and love others. The page with the frogs eating had you feeding Kyotani a plate of flies. When you closed the last page and turned over to see who the author and illustrator were, all that was there on the front cover were the initials M.D. You pull out your phone from your pocket as you start grabbing as many of the books as you can. Your hand finding the contact you were looking for.

“Yamaguchi, you're never going to believe this but I think Kyotani feels the same way I do and you're also not going to believe how I figured that out”

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

A/N: ahahahahah I don't know why this ended up so long BUT ALSO LIL FROG THAT GO RIBBIT. And here's the playlist that I listened to while I wrote; cherry sparkling water

[iwritethat]

Jason Todd: Paint Job

A/N: Here we go again :)

>>>>——————————>

"Oh my god, is this symbol painted on your bike?"

"Of all things, that's what you pick up on?!" The vigilante yelled back in an exasperated yet distracted tone, evidently frustrated as he released his sleeping hold on the final thug.

"I wouldn't have if it wasn't so bad - it's all over the headlight. You do this with your helmet on or something?" You wittily responded, standing from your crouching position in front of his motorcycle.

"I don't have to explain myself to you now run along and stay out of trouble!" Red Hood waved you off, at this point simply wanting to get on with the rest of his night.

"Ooooh, look whose getting defensive - how 'bout you bring it to my shop, (L/n) Autos, tomorrow night once I'm closed and I'll give it a custom paint job free of charge, think of it as a..." Your hands rested on your hips as you drifted off toward the end of your statement apparently in thought. The way your brows furrowed was quite cute actually.

"A thanks for saving your life?" The vigilante cockily finished for you once getting on his bike, but you shook your head and sassily shot him down.

"Ew, no. An upgrade, I mean wow."

"Rude, so ungrateful nowadays." The tone was unbelievably sarcastic and you knew he was rolling his eyes under the helmet but you couldn't care less, only folding your arms and responding with a dead tone.

"Uh Huh, I'll see you tomorrow 11pm. Got it?" You called after him, the male speeding off into the night - maybe Mrs C keeping you late had its meanings. God that mysterious woman...

.

In honesty you didn't think he'd show up, or if he'd even heard you after he'd raced off. Maybe you should've thanked him for preventing those assholes from robbing you instead of insulting his ride yet you stayed up after closing just in case.

A diligent knock brought you back to reality, the sound of clanging metal echoing through your workshop as you heaved open the massive entrance door. There stood your knight in leather armour, helmet still covering his identity as he leaned against the wall.

"That offer still open?"

"For that atrocity, hell yes." You internally winced at your inability to be kind to your saviour but breathed a sigh of relief when he laughed and handed you his keys.

"How long do you want it?"

"Hmm, give me a week."

"Whatever you want doll." And with that he was gone, off grappling across Gothams skyline with nothing but effortless beauty.

.

It had been a taxing week without his baby, but hopefully you didn't disappoint - Jason creaked open the door to your unique workshop, immediately noticing his newly designed motorcycle and it took his breath away.

"Woah..."

He walked around it admiringly, fingers delicately tracing your beautiful handiwork as he went, still unable to comprehend that this masterpiece was once his bike before coming to a stop at the station a metre or two away and inspecting your handwritten checklist.

Red Hoods ‘Thank You’:

• Matte Black = nice finish

• Red line detailing throughout cuz the guy likes red apparently.

• Detachable symbol, nicely painted

• Fixed engine -> more efficient

• Customised weaponry

• Taunt Hood about upgrades

A content laugh escaped him at the mocking words, you truly hadn't changed since he'd been gone and it only made him miss you more - where were you anyway??? He'd carefully scanned the area, finding your sleeping form curled up on the couch and shaking his head he made his way over, stopping in front of you with an amused expression only faltering when he took in your appearance. A red hoodie draped your figure - his hoodie, the sleeves reached the joints of your fingers and it was now stained with motor oil over the time you'd worked in it but honestly you rocked it better than he ever did. He’d given it to you when you were walking through Gothams back alleys together, yourself smugly complaining about the dropping temperatures before Jason had mercilessly thrown it at you rather than admit he cared about your wellbeing as his closest friend. It didn’t stop you from taunting him about his feelings though.

It was apparent you'd attempted to wait up for him so you could check off the last thing on your list but had failed to do so, it was rather late and you'd clearly worked hard on his ride that day. Jason knew he shouldn't wake you, and he couldn't handle making conversation knowing you wore what was once his, that you hadn't forgotten him. Instead he covered you with the fluffy blanket folded over the arm and left $500 on the table beside the takeout bag marked with 'C's Diner', memories of that place came flooding back and he'd silently decided to take Roy there that week. Muttering a thanks before leaving, Red Hood took his bike and left little evidence of ever being there at all.

.

The scent of the 60’s themed diner was always pleasant, it was a common occurrence for you to stop by after working late. It reminded you of Jason, and the elderly owner remembered you two well considering the liveliness you both once brought and honestly that charming woman was basically a parental figure in your life. Although she always has a suspiciously omniscience aura about her - Nanny McPhee incarnate as you and your lost friend had joked when you were children.

Unbeknownst to you, Jason remembered this place too though he regularly avoided it until tonight and ensured to drag Roy along with him out of convenience. The pair sat in a booth discussing Jason's bike upgrades when a mug of hot cocoa was set in front of Jason much to his confusion.

"Excuse me, I'm pretty sure I didn't order this."

"Ah, it's on the house. Mrs Cayce’s orders." The (h/c) waitress who Jason knew wasn't an employee proudly winked, saluting the elderly owner who waved over to him.

"Hey uh... do I know you at all? Just you seem familiar and Mrs Cayce clearly does..."

"Nope, don't think so, I would've remembered a beauty like you." The ravenette shrugged, you nodded walking back over the counter to converse with the owner once more.

Roy gave his partner a questioning glance, the sudden realisation and content smile briefly crossing Jason's features had him worried.

"Damn... Mrs C remembers me, I was hoping she'd forget. A friend and I used to come in here on the regular before the whole death thing, sometimes even help out and we would always order this."

"I didn't know Jaybird, sorry... But for the record this is the best diner we've been to in a while and I get if you don't wanna talk about it - but woah who was the waitress, d’ya think she’s single?" His partner questioned, gaze lazily drifting over to your laughing form.

"That was the miracle responsible for my bike, but (Y/n) doesn't work he-"

"Really?! EXCUSE ME?" Roy abruptly cut his best friend off, ensuring his wave caught your attention - eyes practically sparkling after hearing that information.

"What the fuck was that?! Don't, it's more conplicat-" Jason grabbed Roys offending arm, pinning it down to the table with his hushed warning.

"Despite me bringing over the drink earlier, I'm not actually a waitress here so you might wanna call -"

"(Y/n)! They're nice boys who probably wanted to talk to a beautiful lady, would you be polite for once in your life?" Mrs Cayce's words caused you to wince, your 'motherly scolding' spurring a frustrated sigh but in the end the judgments always brought you not necessarily what you wanted but what you needed.

"... How can I help you sir?" It was incredibly forced, as was the brief uninterested smile you gave them and the low but polite tone.

"I'm Roy and this is Jason. I was wondering if you could take a look at my ride if that's okay? The Red Hoods' or whoever’s is pretty sweet and he gave all credit to you." Admittedly, they noticed the positive change in demeanour at the mention of mechanics as Roy continued his request.

"Seriously?! He did?! Yes, 100 times yes! I’d lo- wait... Jason... as in Jason Jason? I do know you, don't I?" You were on the verge of squealing before that name registered, how the face matched your memories of your long lost friend and almost immediately your attention focused solely on the ravenette in front of you.

"..."

His silence wasn't considered useful, although his signature guilty expression gave it away, the awkwardly sheepish smirk he always wore when he knew you were right, his facial features were more mature and he was more handsome than you remembered - though you'd wished he'd never died in the first place. In fact you didn't even give a second thought to how he was sitting before you, instead trusting in the happiness he always blessed you with when in his presence.

"Fuck you nerd." Instantly you'd excitedly tackled him to the booth cushion regardless of your contrasting vocabulary, his arm wrapped around your waist whilst the other grabbed the back of the booth for stability since you'd almost pinned him to the seat.

"Rude much?" He abruptly commented, a playful undertone to his voice.

"Give me a break, you're supposed to be dead! I don’t know how or why but it's me Jason, we've always told each other everything..."

"I know, I didn't want to put you through anymore pain."

"You were a pain that I enjoyed having dumbass." Your tone was soft, more meaningful than he'd expected and it encouraged him to tell you everything.

"(Y/n) I-"

"Save the explanation for later, let me just enjoy your company for now and then I gotta show you my place! I managed to get my own mechanic shop and I fixed up Red Hoods bike - the Red Hood! God I have so much to tell you!" Despite knowing the excited tone you held was technically for him, he had no intentions of telling you who he was just yet, after all he was more than content to have you in his life again rather than longing for more of your time when saving your dumb ass under his alias.

That was the only reason he'd come to your garage that night, to enjoy your familiar company a little longer, if it were anyone else he wouldn't have bothered but for you? He'd still do anything for you.

"Me too doll, for a start this is Roy Harper..."

.

The owner Mrs Cayce carefully studied the scene, towel drying off your favourite mug as she continued to watch with a small smirk on her features and mysterious glint in her eyes.

"Why, it's about time you finally brought those two together isn't it Universe? Better late than never I suppose - but don’t you start any love triangle business ya hear?"