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treesnutsandleaveswrites · 3 years ago

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Night on the Town

Pairing: The Bad Batch x Reader (Polyam)

Summary: After the mission, you all head to Coruscant to the Clone bar 79’s; part 4 to my bad batch polyam series

Warning: discussion about sex, flirting, jealousy

Word Count: 2185

A/N: Made a masterlist for my works, it's pinned on my profile

pt iii, pt v

XXXXXXX

You sat in the cockpit, reviewing the recent data you got from the mission. It was nice and quiet on the ship as you made your way back to Kamino.

“Ugh! Are there any upcoming missions?!” Wrecker groaned as he walked into the cockpit.

“Not that I’ve been notified of.” You explained. “Great! Let’s go to 79’s!”

You looked at the boys with a confused look, “79’s?”

Tech sighed, “It’s a bar on Coruscant where most of the Clone Troopers go to cool down after missions.”

“That sounds fun. We should go. Especially after this mission.” You suggested.

They all looked at each other before nodding and dispersing to other parts of the ship.

Hunter took your hand gently and led you out of the cockpit. He sat down in the main section of the ship and looked down at his hands. Wrecker settled in one of the bunks, immediately knocking out, and Crosshair was in his compartment. You looked at Hunter and sat next to him, grabbing his hands gently.

“What is it?” You whispered, so no to overstimulate his senses. He turned to you and reached to cup your face before taking a moment to look into your eyes. Worry started to pool in the pit of your stomach which Hunter could sense, so he shook his head.

“I’m alright, cyar’ika. Really…”

It was nowhere near convincing, so you moved closer and placed your lips against his. It must have felt extremely relieving to him because he sighed into your lips and pulled you onto his lap. His lips then started to trail away from yours and found the skin of your neck. Even if you have been with the batch for nearly a year now, you were still in the early stages of your relationship with all of them. The subject of intimacy and sex life never really came up due to the interruption of work. You didn’t want to stop him, but knew you couldn’t continue. You grabbed his shoulders gently before pushing him back against the back of the seat and looking at him. He was panting softly and holding your hips.

“Sorry…” He whispered.

You didn’t know what to say while caressing the tattooed side of his face. Multiple thoughts started to reel through your mind which you wanted to relay to him. You looked towards the direction of the cockpit and called out.

“Tech! How long until we’re in Coruscant’s star system?”

“An hour, maybe more! I don’t want to waste the fuel on a lightspeed jump!”

You nodded and stood, holding out your hand. Hunter took it and you pulled him into the cockpit.

“Wait here…”

You rushed out of the cockpit and stood next to Wrecker’s bunk. He always took the top bunk, so you stepped on the bottom one and held yourself up with his own.

“Wreck… darling?”

He grunted before opening his eyes, “Yes, ad'ika?”

“Can we talk in the cockpit? Wait for me there, okay?”

He grunted in response and got down when you moved from his space, going up the ladder of the shooter’s chair. You found Crosshair leaning against the wall and examining one of his blasters.

“Cross…” You whispered, which caused him to turn his head to you, “Can… can you come join us in the cockpit? I want to talk about something.”

He gave you a short nod before you moved back to the cockpit with him behind you. The other boys were talking amongst themselves, obviously confused with why you wanted to gather them together. You entered and Crosshair leaned against the wall next to the threshold. Tech offered you a seat at the front of the cockpit and the rest of them averted their attention to you. You looked down at your hands, feeling the tension grow stronger.

“I… I wanted to talk about us.”

“How so, mesh’la?”

You started to get flustered and tried not to choke on your words, “I-I know we have been together for almost a year and I wanted to talk about… um…” You felt your face start to heat up more, “Dank farrik.” You cussed quietly, causing the boys to chuckle.

“It’s alright, ad'ika. Take your time.”

You nodded and hummed, “Umm, I wanted to talk about… becoming intimate?”

The boys looked at each other, shocked by the words that just left your lips. This caused you to sigh and turn away.

“Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything-”

“No, no, mesh’la. It’s alright.” Hunter took hold of your shoulders and crouched to meet your eyes, “We’ve… we’ve actually talked about this also.”

“You have?”

“Yes, but we were unsure how to approach you about this.” Tech admitted.

“Oh…” You sat back as Hunter stood up and looked at the others.

“We didn’t know if you preferred to talk about it individually, or if you wanted to talk as a group, but now we’re here.”

You nodded and cleared your throat, “Do… do you want me all at once or-”

“We don’t want to pressure you, ad’ika. If you want to start with us individually, you can.”

“Have you… have you done this before?”

“Well… we’ve had our share of lovers but never have shared one before you.”

You nodded, “Okay.”

“And we have been in group things with one or two brothers before, but not all of us together.”

“Ah.” You whispered, feeling smaller than before.

“And what about you, cyare?” Echo chimed, “Have you been with anyone?”

You blushed and looked down at your hands, fiddling with them nervously. It took each of them a moment before realizing what you were implying. No one really knew what to say, but then Wrecker spoke up.

“We don’t want to pressure you to choose who you’d like to... do it with first. And we’ll try not to be upset with who you choose.” Wrecker said as gently as he could. The other boys nodded and looked at you as your eyes scanned the room. Crosshair was still leaning against the wall, no change in facial or words coming from his lips. However, when you looked at him, his eyes quickly looked away. This must have meant he had something on his mind, but you weren’t going to make him tell you at the moment. You stood and looked at your lovers.

“Thank you so much for being so understanding.”

“Of course, mesh’la.”

Everyone dispersed and went back to whatever they were doing. You placed yourself in front of one of the ship’s computers and decided to look some things up. Some time passed and your eyes started to hurt from the brightness of the display. You then got up, decided to stretch your legs, and stepped on the seats to get something from the small storage compartment. As you were stepping down, a pair of hands grabbed your waist to help you. You turned once you were back on the floor and saw Crosshair. The both of you looked deeply into each other's eyes, not speaking; however, you knew he had some things to say. You gestured to the seats next to you which caused him to nod and sit with you.

“What… what do you think? Y’know, of what we discussed?”

He took a moment before speaking lowly, “I agree with the others. We won’t pressure you into choosing who you’d like to be intimate with first,” He hesitated before continuing, “I… I have had thoughts about you. About us…”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded before smiling, “Well, I guess we’ll just have to figure things out together. Luckily, we have some time off. Maybe something will happen on Coruscant…” He looked at you for a second before nodding. You kissed the corner of his lips gently then let him walk off to his compartment.

The Havoc Marauder landed in Coruscant at one of the local hangars. You held Wrecker’s hand as all of you walked out of the hangar and looked over Coruscant.

“Let’s get a car and head to 79’s.” Hunter suggested, heading to another part of the hangar. There was a small garage that let people rent out speeder bikes and other vehicles of transportation. A skiff was rented since you were a big group, and you all headed to 79’s.

You walked into the bar and looked around, seeing many clone troopers and some other different customers. Tech took your hand before leading you to a booth big enough to seat the six of you. Even if the place was mainly full of clones, it was a fairly new atmosphere for you. People were yelling, laughing, and even singing: though it wasn’t any good. It was entirely different from when the clones would spend their free time on Kamino, which was mostly for training or eating in the mess hall.

Tech stood and looked at the lot of you, “I’m going to get us a round of drinks. Your usuals, brothers?”

They nodded and then he looked to you, “Anything for you, darling?”

“Um… something not too strong, please.”

Once he went to the bar, the others sat quietly. You looked around, and recognized most of the other clones. Even if they had the same face, you can tell them apart individually from certain physical marks and mannerisms. Someone called your name from across the bar so you turned. It was Noco with a few others from his squadron. The boys groaned while rolling their eyes, which made you laugh gently before greeting him as he walked over to your table.

“I didn’t know you came here!” He grinned.

“First time. Do you come here often?”

“Of course. I’m always near the temple in case any of the jedi masters need help.”

That was one thing Noco seemed to always talk about. The Jedi. You didn’t blame his enthusiasm, but it was starting to get tedious.

“That sounds amazing, Noco. I-” You stopped when you looked over to the bar to see Tech being fondled over by some random woman, “I… just want to relax with my squadron for now. It was nice seeing you and I hope we can catch up on Kamino when we aren’t drinking.”

Noco laughed, “Of course!” He then walked back to his friends and they ordered a round of drinks. Your eyes then immediately averted back to Tech. The woman had her hands nearly everywhere and you could feel yourself start to burn a hole into her with your eyes.

“Mesh’la? What’s wrong?” Echo looked over to where you were looking, realizing why you were so distracted. He smirked and nudged Hunter. He also looked before patting Crosshair’s shoulder to relay the situation at hand. Wrecker had been busy ordering some food for you all at the other side of the bar. As you were still looking at the woman and Tech, Hunter spoke.

“Tech! Why don’t you bring your friend over!”

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at Hunter, who sat back and shrugged, but a sly smile formed on his lips. Tech walked over with the tray of drinks and the woman by his side.

“Friends, this is Ky’ari. She lives around these parts.”

The boys shook hands with her while introducing themselves. Tech took a seat next to Crosshair and she leaned over his shoulder. You clenched your hand closed which caused your knuckles to turn almost white. Crosshair saw this and a small smirk reached his mouth.

“This is our communications officer: Lodestar.” He introduced.

“Lodestar, what a funny name.” Ky’ari smiled,

“It’s a nickname.” You managed to get out. The heat in your chest and throat started to rise and you wanted to spit venom at this woman.

“What’s an officer like you hanging around here for?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” You downed your drink, “You’re such a pretty woman, should be all over those holoboards outside.”

“I like the company.”

“Well there’s plenty of that here. And lucky you, they look the same so you don’t have to learn their names.” You shrugged, leaning back and looking at the boys, “Almost all of them have the same body and stamina anyways.”

It was Crosshair and Hunter’s turn to have sour faces due to being compared to all the regs in the bar. Wrecker made his way back with a tray full of food and laughed.

“Sorry about that! Couldn’t find my credit holder!”

The woman’s eyes lit up seeing Wrecker, but an idea popped up in your head.

“Here, Wreck, let me give you some more room. May I?” You gestured to his lap and he grinned before nodding.

You moved and gently hummed, “Well, let’s all try to have a nice night and relax.” You picked up a piece of food and popped it into your mouth.

Wrecker was enjoying the food also while the other boys looked at you. Each one of them had a hint of jealousy behind their eyes. It wasn’t long before the woman was distracted by a different clone and left all of you alone. You knew you were going to be in for a long night.

XXXXXXX

Another reminder that requests are open! You find the link to the guidelines on my Masterlist post!

#the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #bad batch #treesnutsandleaves writes #hunter #crosshair #mohawk tech #echo #wrecker #tbb polyam series

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holdmecloser-gandydancer · 3 years ago

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love and revolution

Magnus was intently working on a bookshelf. It was made of a beautiful, dark mahogany and, upon the request of the customer, was going to have dozens of birds carved into the sides and edges. He began sanding the shelves with a fine grit sandpaper. For a while, the only sound in the Hammer and Tongs was the soft, repetitive noise of wood being worn down.

The calm monotony was broken when the front door creaked open. Magnus looked up and grinned at the entrant; Julia Waxman, loaded down with bags from various merchants in town, had returned, the last dregs of the late afternoon sun trailing in after her. The sharp bite in the air let everyone know winter was just around the corner.

Magnus quickly stood up to relieve Julia of her burden She smiled and handed him half the bags in her arms. As the pair got to work unloading the bags, Magnus frowned. Everything Julia had brought home was either small, poor quality, or about to turn.

“This is what everyone had. Season’s been tough for farming and everyone’s raising prices to keep up with Kalen’s tariffs,” Julia said before Magnus could comment. She inspected the hard loaf of bread she’d been able to grab.

Magnus shook his head. For nearly a year, Governor Kalen and his cronies had been enacting increasingly harsh laws, oppressive curfews, and predatory taxes; the citizens of Raven’s Roost all felt the firm pressure of Kalen’s fine leather boots on the neck of their economy and of their freedom.

“How is everyone doing?”

Julia shrugged. “They’re all doing as well as they can. The Silverstrings are worried because their wheat harvest was half as fruitful this year as it was last year and a good portion of what grew was seized by Kalen.”

“Lucatiel?”

“His wool has largely been commandeered by Kalen. He hopes to be able to shear another large batch before winter hits in earnest but he’s uncertain.”

“And Therala?”

“Her herd’s dwindling. Most of the calves from this past spring either died or –“

“Were taken by Kalen and his pals. Right. Jules, how does he keep getting away with this?”

Julia laughed sharply and started putting some of the dry goods in the storage closet in the back of the shop. “Magnus, that’s just how things have always been here. For a while, anyway.”

“But how’d he even get into power in the first place?” There was nothing but pure astonishment in his voice. In the five years he’d lived in Raven’s Roost, he’d never quite been able to comprehend how someone so ruthless could have gotten the trust of the town; his friends and neighbors were good, honest folks and good judges of character. It made no sense to Magnus.

She puffed out her cheeks and thought for a moment. “He helped form Raven’s Roost into a proper town. We used to be vulnerable to bandits and those who sought to cause pain. He was stern but that kept us in shape. He used to be better. Genuinely. Not good, not at all, but not like this. His policies were never quite this harsh. I suppose he’s gotten greedy.”

“It’s senseless for him to dig this deep this quickly. If it continues like this, I don’t know that the town is going to last much longer.”

Julia said nothing. She knew Magnus was right but what was to be done about it? The two continued to unpack and put away items in silence.

“Papa won’t talk to me about how business is going here. Said he doesn’t want me to worry about things. How are we doing?” Julia looked at Magnus seriously.

He hesitated. Steven had specifically asked him to not discuss the business with Julia but when he saw her in front of him, firm hands anxiously picking at a sliver on the table, he found it hard to deny her.

“We’ve done better. I’m sure you’re aware the craftsmen corridor has been hit pretty hard by all the tariffs. Not only can we hardly afford to replace the tools and materials we need but the rest of the town can’t exactly afford our wares. We get the occasional customers,” he gestured to the bookshelf he’d been working on. “But we’re not doing great.”

Julia nodded and looked down. “That’s not exactly reassuring. But thanks for telling me.”

“Of course. Just don’t tell your dad I said anything,” he said sheepishly.

“Deal,” she said, glancing back at him with a smile.

Magnus sat on a bench outside the Hammer and Tongs and stared up at the moons. His teeth were chattering quietly but he wasn’t quite ready to turn in for the night. Isaiah Erksine, Kalen’s right-hand man, had distributed yet another list of tariffs and regulations to all the shops in Raven’s Roost earlier in the day. They were unconscionable; taxes and levies on every single scrap of material you could think of. Harsher curfews that made it nearly impossible for those in the craftsmen corridor to do much else besides make goods that nobody could afford. It was like the very essence of life was slowly being choked out of the town. Or, at the very least, the spirit of its inhabitants.

Magnus’s ruminative spiral was broken when he felt a thick, scratchy blanket draped over his shoulders. He glanced up and smiled; Julia, dressed far more sensibly than Magnus, darted a hand back through the doorway. In a moment, Magnus’s hands were wrapped around a piping hot mug of mint tea. Admittedly, the drink was more water than tea, but he drank it appreciatively.

“You seem troubled,” Julia mused, sipping from her own chipped mug.

“I am, Julia.” He confirmed, scooting over to make room on the bench. Julia mulled it over for a minute before sitting down. Heat was radiating off her like a fire and it took everything in Magnus to not immediately wrap his arms around her and hold her close. Though he did scoot a little closer. You know, to keep warm.

“I’d like to think that we could go a single week without tax hikes but it’s seeming more and more like a pipe dream,” she said flatly. “I hate this. I’ve lived among these people for as long as I can remember. Raven’s Roost is my home. When I was a little girl, I always used to think dream about the day that I’d get to raise my own family here. It felt like such a safe and warm place. And now…” She glanced at Magnus before she looked to the sky. “Now most days I feel like things might be easier if I just go somewhere else. And I don’t want that. I want to stay. I want to want to stay. I just don’t know that there’s going to be anything to stay for if this keeps up.”

“I want there to be something here for you,” Magnus murmured quietly, looking at Julia’s profile in the moonlight.

“Magnus, believe me, I don’t want to leave my home. I don’t want to leave –“ She looked at Magnus from the corner of her eye. “I don’t want to leave the people here. I just don’t think I can keep living under Kalen.”

“What if we don’t have to?” The words escaped Magnus’s mouth before he could even make sense of them himself.

Julia lurched and turned to look at Magnus, bewildered. “I’m sorry?”

Magnus had a choice. He could have easily retracted his statement. He could have laughed it off. But instead of thinking it over for any amount of time, he doubled down. “What if we don’t have to keep living under Kalen? What if we could still live here, in Raven’s Roost, but without that tyrant?”

Julia looked around before scooting closer to Magnus, their wind-chapped noses nearly touching. “Are you suggesting…” she took a breath, as though to steel herself. “Are you suggesting a revolt?”

Magnus could barely focus on the question with Julia this close to him. “I-I think I am,” his voice was near silent.

Julia nodded. “Okay. How’re we going to do this?”

Watery winter light did its best to penetrate the frost coated windows of the Hammer and Tongs. Magnus was idly whittling a piece of scrap wood. There weren’t any orders to work on and Candlenights was right around the corner; he figured he could fashion something homemade for both Julia and Steven.

His pocketknife nearly went flying out of his hand when the door of the shop burst open, startling him out of his focus. Standing in the doorway was a young earth genasi he recognized from town. He looked frantic and near tears. Magnus set his project down.

“Hey, Allura, what’s the matter?” Magnus asked, inviting the young man inside and shutting the door behind him.

“Magnus, it’s my dad,” Allura choked out. He looked gaunt and miserable; Magnus thought back to a few months ago when the entire Mountaindeep family came into the Hammer and Tongs, jovially talking about commissioning a crib, as a new baby was on the way. Allura, a kid all of fifteen, had chattered to him for ten minutes about how excited he was to become a big brother. He looked decidedly less excited in that moment.

“What happened?”

“W-we couldn’t pay the tariffs. My dad has been charging everyone half price. H-he said he couldn’t hike the prices up, it wasn’t right. And we couldn’t… Kalen took him away!” he cried, bordering on hysterical.

“Allura, buddy, you gotta breathe, okay? What do you mean Kalen took him?” Magnus led him to a chair.

“H-he hauled him off to the prison and I don’t know what’s gonna happen to him and my m-mom’s giving birth soon and I can’t help with that, I don’t know how,” He managed to get out, hiccupping between every few words, too distraught to calm down.

“Julia!” Magnus called up the staircase in the back of the shop. He had to get this kid to stop crying so he could get the full story and Julia tended to have a calming presence on, well, everyone.

In a moment, she appeared at the bottom of the stairs and sent Magnus a confused look. He nodded towards the crying teenager as explanation.

Julia rushed over, knelt down, and took Allura’s face in her thick hands. “Hey, hon, can you breathe with me?” she cooed gently. And for a few minutes, the shop was silent, save for Julia counting breaths for Allura.

“Can we hear the story again, bud?” Magnus asked quietly after a few moments.

Allura nodded and sniffled. “You guys know that Kalen raised the tariffs. Again. Um. My dad decided to slash his prices, not raise them to keep up. Said he couldn’t. He’s a big follower of Helm and he said it wasn’t right to keep medicines behind a steep price. He just wanted to help people. But Kalen came collecting today and he took my dad. And it’s not just him. He took Mr. Anvilrock and Sevara Mountainwillow and a few other people. And I don’t know what’s going to happen to them,” he said, his voice small and scared.

Magnus and Julia exchanged a look. She sent him a nod and turned back to Allura. “Okay. Thank you for telling us. Do you think that you can do us a favor?”

Allura furrowed his brow but nodded cautiously.

“Go around to the others in the craftsmen corridor and tell them to meet at the Hammer and Tongs tomorrow night? Just tell them it’s really important that everyone come. And if Kalen or his buddies ask you about it, be as vague as you can.” Magnus said seriously.

“If you’re asked about it, say that I’m teaching everyone how to patch their own clothes since Masden had to close down shop. ” Julia offered.

“But what about the curfew?” Allura asked, voice meek and eyes rimmed with red.

Magnus thought for a moment. “Tell everyone that we might have a way to keep us from having to worry about curfew ever again. I just need everyone to trust me.”

“I think I can do that.” Allura said, rising from the chair.

Julia patted him on the shoulder and slipped a gold piece into his hand. Before he could protest, she held her hand up and shooed him out the door.

Magnus rubbed his face for a moment. “Something’s gotta give, Jules.”

Julia reached a tentative hand out to squeeze Magnus’s hand quickly. “After tomorrow, I think something will. I hope.”

“Can either of you tell me why three separate people assured me that they’d do their best to make it to the shop tonight when I stopped in town a little bit ago?” Steven asked from the kitchen table.

Julia avoided her father’s gaze, busying herself with prepping tea instead.

Magnus focused intently on cracking eggs without getting any bits of shell in the bowl. He quickly whisked them together and held off on adding any salt or pepper to the mixture before setting them in the skillet. That was a little tip he picked up from—he thought for a moment—well, from his moms, he supposed. Apparently kept the egg from getting tough or something. He wasn’t really sure what that meant but followed the rule without fail. Made for good eggs, anyway.

“Am I just meant to be okay with the two of you encouraging our friends and neighbors to break the law to come over for a late-night chat?” A stern edge crept into Steven’s voice.

“Steven, we just wanted to have a meeting with the other craftsmen.”

“About what? What’s so important that it requires possibly getting some good people thrown in jail?”

“People are already getting thrown in jail!” Magnus protested. “Allura Mountaindeep came crying in here yesterday. His dad’s in prison, along with a handful of others who couldn’t pay. I just…Steven, you don’t have to agree with what we’re doing but you have to understand. I can’t keep sitting by and watch the town and people I love be beaten down by some big bully.”

Magnus returned his gaze to the eggs. The silence in the kitchen was broken by the teakettle’s shrill whistle.

“We have a plan. And hell, after tonight, it might not even be anything. But Papa, aren’t you tired of struggling? You can be as stoic as you like but I know the truth. This isn’t the life we should all be living. We should be able to have some shred of hope for a future that could matter. A future that isn’t just toiling until we die.” Julia stared at her father as she moved the kettle from the flame.

Steven stared back for a moment before glancing back at Magnus. He let out a sigh. “We can have the meeting but everyone is out before moonrise.”

Magnus and Julia smiled wide.

“Deal.” Magnus said, dividing the eggs between the three plates.

A hush fell over the group of craftmakers who all crammed into the Hammer and Tongs. It was a tight fit but it appeared that most of the corridor had managed to make the meeting. The sun had long since set, leaving only the meekest dregs of light hanging in the sky; moonrise was due in less than an hour. Magnus knew he had to make the meeting quick.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard of the few imprisonments that have come about as a result of Kalen’s new tariffs.” Magnus began, bouncing his gaze across those gathered in the shop.

A grumble of acknowledgement reverberated through the dense crowd.

“And I’m sure you all know that any of us could be subject to the same treatment just for being at this meeting.”

More noises of agreement bubbled up in the crowd.

“Then I’ll make it quick and worth your risk. I hate seeing Raven’s Roost like this. I know in my bones it could be better if things were different. I hate seeing everyone beaten down by these laws. I hate seeing Kalen’s friends allowed to do whatever they want, whenever they want, and never see any kind of repercussions for it. I’m sick of seeing people starving in the streets. Sick of seeing families torn apart because one of them had the audacity to be a kind person. I want Raven’s Roost to be a flourishing place.” He glanced over to Julia and pink stained his cheeks. “I want to be able to raise a family here. I want to want that. But as it stands, I don’t know that I can imagine a future for Raven’s Roost. I don’t know how many of us can last like this for much longer.”

“And what exactly are you proposing we do about it?” Hector Anvilrock, another metalworker in town, demanded.

“We’re proposing a revolution.” Magnus said simply.

The shop erupted in conversation. It began civil enough but quickly devolved into name calling and accusations of espionage and snitching. Magnus’s stomach dropped. He knew it wasn’t going to be an easy sell but if this was any indication, he feared for the future of any kind of revolution.

“Enough!” Julia said, climbing onto a chair. She was already taller than Magnus and nearly as broad so the added height made her the single most imposing figure in the room, though her warm brown eyes added an air of compassion. “I understand it’s a scary thought. But do we really think it’s a better idea to just roll over and get kicked? Sure, Kalen has numbers and power and resources. But we actually have something worth fighting for. We have the most skilled craftspeople on the continent. We have conviction. And we have a goal.” She sighed and rubbed her hand down her face. “I understand if any of you are scared or apprehensive. I won’t make demands. I won’t beg. I want you all to join us but I won’t look down on you for not getting involved. I just want to know that we can trust you.”

She glanced over at Magnus who was watching her, stars in his eyes. She raised her eyebrows at him and sent him a tiny nod.

“Well?” He asked, seeming to snap out of his daze. “Can we trust all of you?”

It felt like the entire show was holding its breath until Hector nodded. And then Allura. And then Therala. One by one, each person in attendance gave a silent pledge.

Magnus grinned, relief flooding his veins. This was only the first step, but they’d already hurdled over it with grace. He was certain they’d be able to make Raven’s Roost a safe place for all someday.

#taz #taz balance #the adventure zone #magnulia #magnus burnsides #julia burnsides #tazb #reese writes #i believe in big buff julia burnsides supremacy #the adventure zone balance #also shout out to me for snatching the rest of these names from the dnd campaign i am currently in <3 #taz balance fic #fic

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swcetnight · 4 years ago

Text

It’s Definitely You || kth (m.) 1

synopsis:

Working as a barista in NYC has its perks, but when your ultimate dream of being on the Broadway stage tends to come crumbling down, the only thing that raises your spirits is the comfort of a complete stranger… who seems to have known you for far longer than you thought.

masterlist here

→ pairing: taehyung x barista!reader (also musical theatre performer cause I had to)

→ genre: fluff, angst, future smut | strangers(ish) to lovers… i won’t give the truth away... gonna have to read and find out for yourself ;))

-> warnings: self doubt, adorable plant names... there's really not many warnings for this chapter!

→ word count: 7,973

authors note:

alrighty everyone... here we go! (i’m so nervous) this is the first chapter of this series (which it took me 50 years to figure out whether I wanted this to be a series or a two shot... lets just say that it's gonna be a long one, so I think that a series is the best way to go)! this story is really near and dear to my heart, so 1. I really hope you enjoy it and 2. I hope all of you know how hard it was to write this into words... my goodness. now, make sure you look for clues throughout this series... there's a secret in here that won't be revealed for a while ;)) but if any of you have ideas, please be sure to send an ask while we wait to find out together! anyways, I hope you enjoy !!

authors thanks:

a HUGE thank you to @hantaev and @monvante for beta-reading and being so so supportive of me and this little (but not so little) story... y'all truly have no idea how helpful you've been and how thankful I am to be friends with both of you! forreal, y'all are the greatest and I'm sending you all my love!!

also, if you are enjoying this story, please don’t hesitate to send me an ask (on or off anon) and let me know your thoughts, feelings, theories, etc!! i would love to hear from all of you 🤍

If time-travel existed, you would be on the first time machine and head back to 2 years ago. A time when you had a free schedule and were able to go out on Friday nights. A time when you felt confident in yourself and were raring to pursue theatre. A time when you didn't have this job (cause apparently, theatre is impossible to get into) that forces you awake at 4 in the morning for the opening shift.

You can't say you don't love your Barista job because you do. Still, when your alarm wakes you from the beautiful dream of performing on the big stage, you have to use everything within yourself to crawl out of your sheet cocoon… and that is unacceptable.

What's even more unacceptable is the fact that your co-worker, Jimin, hasn't arrived at the Academia Cafe yet. You have about 30 minutes to prepare for the morning peak; brew coffees, set up the bakery items, clear the boards "coffee of the day," etc. The problem is, it takes up all of the 30 allotted minutes— and you can't start prepping early because Jimin has the keys to the cafe.

You’ve worked at the Academia Cafe for about a year now, taking a break from your endless theatre audition schedule— since that was getting you absolutely nowhere. No matter how badly you want it, nothing seems to work. No matter how many times you practice, it never seems to be good enough. Let’s just say, you took this job at the cafe because you were over the repetitive let downs.

… But here you are, with a “Jimin being late” let down.

[To: Jimin ☕️] hey, you almost here? times ticking, keys!

You stuff your phone into your winter coat pocket, the brown material catching snowflakes as they fall gently from the cloudy sky. You love this weather; it's always been your favorite. When you were little, you used to pretend to be a dragon; running all over your front yard and releasing heavy breaths that chilled in the air and spread like smoke. You don't enjoy the cold, but the entire feel of winter has you cozying up in a blanket with hot cocoa and a good book… nothing could beat that.

A buzz in your pocket catches your attention.

[From: Jimin ☕️] Hey! Look up.

Your eyes immediately lift to see Jimin smiling a few feet away, shuffling through the snow as he drags the keys out of his pocket. He's sporting a heavy blue coat that reaches down to his knees — making his short stature appear even smaller — topped with a matching blue beanie. Despite his tardiness today, you’ve always been fond of Jimin. He's like a ray of sunshine, beaming through the skyscrapers of the city and making everyone around him happy just by flashing a single smile. Honestly, you wish you could sneak some of that happiness from him and lock it somewhere safe... so you can save it for a time when you need it most.

"Your timing is impeccable." He laughs, gently placing the keys into the front door lock. "You texted me right as I was rounding the corner."

"I'm telling you, Jimin; we're always on the same wavelength." Smirking, you make your way through the doors of the cafe, greeted by the warmth that surrounds you like your sheet cocoon did this morning, but accompanied by the smell of fresh coffee. "Except for the fact that you, my friend, are late, so now we only have twenty-eight minutes until opening."

Old, rustic book pages litter the cafe's dark walls, executing the dark academia theme flawlessly. You have to give the interior designers a hand, what with the black stools and high dark wood counters etched with different story pages. You wonder if anyone took the time to read the stories that covered the cafe; maybe the stories moved them in a personal way. Maybe there was a reason why they read them, a part of the butterfly effect of their life.

With a quick survey of the main room, you shuffle into the back to put your belongings away. "You would think it would be less busy on the streets because of the snow," Jimin calls, already working on the first batch of light roast coffee. "But unfortunately for me, that was not the case, and I nearly lost my life multiple times on the way here because of how slick it is."

A laugh emits from your lips, echoing in the backroom as you throw your apron over your head.

You begin with date labeling all of the pastry items, placing them accordingly onto the pastry cart; croissants, muffins, scones, etc. Then, you move onto organizing syrups and setting toppings along the bar where drinks are made. Bar is your personal favorite position-- since you're able to make the drinks… Plus, you're so busy that your shift goes by way faster. The sooner you're done, the sooner you get to go home and sleep.

“All set?” Jimin questions when you finish setting the steaming pitchers next to the espresso machine, tossing the rag he used to wipe down tables into the sanitizer bin. You give him a nod, taking a quick once over of the bar. “Alright,” he claps, “let's do this.”

This morning runs like every Friday morning, busy and fast. The sounds of coffee glasses clinking and the calling of customer names at the hand-off station echoes through the air.

Ahhhh, the scenery in coffee shops; the quiet hush over the room as soft jazz plays over the speakers. It’s soothing, all encompassing, and extremely helpful for motivation… You used to go to a local cafe for homework when you were still in school.

You take a breath, relaxing against the back counter as you overhear a conversation a group of regulars are having. It’s the usual small talk: the weather, families, sharing pictures of recent events. Coming up with questions of the day for customers becomes easier after knowing their stories, so you subconsciously listen in often.

Because of this, you almost don't notice the man waiting at the register, wholly delved into the neighboring conversation— only looking over when you hear your name called.

"Y/n?"

You turn your head, catching eyes with the stranger behind the counter who holds his credit card ready. The first thing you notice is that he's young, probably around your age, wearing a brown turtleneck and white slacks. His eyes are dark, standing above his perfectly sculpted nose and lips. His hair is dark as well, forehead drowning within the wavy bangs that fall over his eyebrows as he takes you in. To be completely honest, he's probably the most handsome man you've had the pleasure of seeing… is that weird? You don’t know him… maybe that is weird.

The second thing you notice is that he looks completely anxious, hands grasping the edge of the counter like there's a thousand-foot drop below him. Why is he looking straight at you while doing that? Maybe you should call Jimin to take ove-

“Is it really you?” He questions, taking you aback.

"I-" You clear your throat, walking forward to meet him at the register, "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

With an intake of breath, he releases the counter as he studies you. Was he… crying? You swear his eyes were not this bloodshot three seconds ago.

"You-" He pauses, taking another sharp breath and running a hand through his hair. If you thought he couldn't get more attractive, you were wrong. "Do you know me?"

Attractive? Yes. Psycho?...possibly.

You shake your head slightly, “I… I’m sorry. I don't-"

Wait… is he a regular? You swear you haven't seen him come into the cafe before. Shoot.. What if he is? The number one thing your boss has made perfectly clear: remember the regulars, so they come back and feel at home; recognized. Customer connection was the most important thing at the Academia Cafe… He's probably a regular.

“I’m so sorry, there're so many people that come to visit us and sometimes I forget the regulars!” You apologize. “That’s my fault… remind me of your name again?”

He's staring at you. Full-on staring, jaw slacked. Shifting uncomfortably in your keds, you eye beside you to see Jimin working away at a macchiato. You consider changing places, nearly walking over to him before the customer speaks again.

"It's- It's Taehyung."

You force a smile, nodding while he continues to stare at you. He seems a bit more hesitant, his eyes looking in different directions but ultimately falling back onto your own. Even if he tried, he couldn't hide the rosy color that spreads onto his cheeks. What was this guy's problem?

"Taehyung! Awesome, well, what can I get for you today?" You chirp, attempting to brighten up your increasing discomfort. He might have mistook you for someone else, you decide, jumping back into your customer service personality: kind and quick to the point.

Taehyung doesn't move, training his eyes on you. You've never had a man's undivided attention before, since boyfriends were never an option. When you were a teenager, you stayed home most of the time in your hometown, and the boys there were all just in it to take your pants off. You avoided them and never really caught their attention, so you can't help the uncomfortable blush that grows on your cheeks. It’s short lived though, your nerves dissolving as soon as you notice a single tear fall onto the front of his shirt.

Oh. Okay, he’s definitely crying.

"Sir..." You begin, leaning in closer to avoid drawing attention. "Is everything alright?"

"I…" The shake in his voice is evident as he puts his credit card back into his wallet, still refusing to break eye contact. “Excuse me." Without another word, he turns on his heel and rushes towards the exit, clocking a customer in the shoulder in his rush. He apologizes quickly, bowing to them before glancing behind to make eye contact with you once more.

You wish you could read minds, wondering what the hell is going through his brain… but you notice the tiniest gleam of a hopeful smile that hides on his lips.

And then he’s gone.

“I swear it was the strangest thing, Jimin.” You speak nervously, tugging at the strings of your apron and lifting it over your head. It had been busy all day, despite a quick thirty minute break when everyone had left and the cafe was suddenly a deserted island. You appreciated the busyness, it made your shift go by faster. Right now, all you wanted to do was go home, eat a fat bowl of icecream and distract yourself from the events of today with a movie. Thank God your shift was over.

“Maybe he thought you were someone else?” Jimin insists, taking a bite into the extra Blueberry Muffin you’d accidentally heated when you were distracted by the events that occurred earlier.

“Yeah? Well, I must be the spitting image because he was totally freaked out.”

“You never know, y/n. Or, maybe he just used that as an excuse to talk to you.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, throwing your rolled up apron at him harshly before you grab your belongings.

“Ha, ha, you’re hilarious. This guy looked like he had seen his ex… He was crying. I don’t think he was into me.”

“Maybe his eyes were watering from the cold wind?” He offers.

“Enough to cry actual tears?” You scoffed, “C’mon Jimin.”

He shrugs defensively, picking up his things so the two of you can head out a few minutes earlier than usual. Whenever the baristas have a chance to leave early, they take it. “If he comes back, then ask him: hey, dude, what’s your deal?”Jimin works his way through the cafe, throwing an excess chair upside down onto the table with the rest of them.

You hold your hand above your heart, which is still beating at a faster pace due to this discussion. Can hearts even beat this fast? This can’t be healthy… “Oh wow, you have such a way with words. That definitely won’t make him feel uncomfortable!”

Yes. Sarcasm coping mechanism.

“Y/n.” Jimin meets you at the door and puts his hands on your shoulders, making extra sure he has your attention. “Go home. Don’t think too much into it… He was probably high or something and mistook you for his ex that dumped him and now he’s moping through the city and getting into all sorts of trouble and he’ll forget that he even came here tomorrow morning. Okay?”

You nod slowly, exiting the cafe with Jimin on your tail. "Don't worry, y/n." Jimin adds, "He probably won't even come back." He locks the door and gives you one last thumbs up before heading in the opposite direction, calling out at the last second. “See you tomorrow!”

The forced smile on your face appears again (looks like this was a regular occurrence today), waving him goodbye.

Yeah… tomorrow.

Jimin was right. The handsome crying stranger was probably never coming back.

It has been a few weeks since you met him for the first time. Now, it feels like a distant memory. He hadn’t shown up to the cafe the day after the encounter, or the day after that, or the day after that, and eventually you’d come to the conclusion that he was probably never going to show his face again out of pure embarrassment. You can’t say you blame him. You’d be embarrassed too if you stared at and cried over a random stranger.

Still, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment... You'd kind of hoped you could figure out what his problem was, maybe ease his mind a little if you really did look like a past lover. You would make sure he knew that it wasn't you. What if he was avoiding the cafe because he literally thought you were someone else? Great… now you just feel bad.

"Y/n? Are you listening?" Jimin beckons over the phone.

"Huh? What?" You bounce back to reality, the soft comforter of your bed lying beneath you as you stare out the window. Thanks to your wonderful apartment search, you have a beautiful view of the city. Jimin had helped you find a place when you first moved here. The two of you had met when you visited to check out the first apartment options; he even took you out for a drink afterward to celebrate the first days' completion. Jimin had immediately clicked with you, as he does with everyone-- he was the kind of person to make friends insanely quickly. He must've been super popular in high school... unlike you.

"Y/n Y/l/n. I am giving you a chance to meet more people, and you're not even listening to me!" He cries, a light smack coming from the other end (probably from him slamming his hand on the table).

"Okay, okay-- I'm sorry. I'm listening now; what's up?"

With a deep sigh, he speaks again. "Party. My house. Tonight. It's not gonna be wild, don't worry... it's just a get-together with some of my friends, and you can have a few drinks if you would like to."

Gnawing at your bottom lip, you look over towards the clock on your nightstand. 5:00. "I don't know..." You begin, the bed shifting as you raise into a seated position. "I have to work tomorrow morn-"

"Already got your shift covered." He deadpans.

"What??"

"I already got your shift covered, so you have no excuse."

This sly guy.

"Who covered it?" You question, setting the audio to speaker-phone as you rummage through old text messages you haven't gone through (to prep for your "thank you for covering my shift" text message).

“Jin.” Noted.

“So…” Jimin continues, “are you coming?”

You can't even remember the last time you met new people, let alone gone to a party. Parties weren't necessarily your thing, especially with your busy schedule of workdays and auditions-- you just never had the time. You should be excited, right?

Well, you aren't.

"Jimin, I don't know… I'm not really a huge fan of parties." You mumble over the phone, picking at the lone string that popped out of its stitch on your comforter.

"Y/n, it's a small get-together, and it's not gonna be that kind of party. Believe me; it'll be really chill. It's just me, you, a few other coworkers, and some friends from my journalism class."

You chew at your bottom lip, looking over at your closet to see a single green cocktail dress that you hadn't worn in years. The memory of the dress was a good one… you had just finished up curtain call for The Addams Family and wore that dress to the after-party. It's a short sleeve, layered green dress that flows just over your knees, the same color sash tying the waist in a floppy bow. You blush at the memory of winning best dressed.

A pause, “Okay.” You conclude. “I’ll go.”

Jimin was honest about how chill it would be; soft music plays in the background as the group sits around the table playing cards. A basketball game is playing on the TV, desperate for attention as a player scores a 3-pointer, but no one is watching. Shuffling of cards is the only sound heard in the room as the game continues.

The atmosphere is calm… quiet…

“BULLSHIT.”

The immediate crumble of everyone’s mood causes the loud “HELL YEAH” that makes you jump in your seat.

"And that is how it's done, Ladies and Gentlemen." Jungkook (your fellow coworker) claps, his smile brighter than the sunset that seeps through the curtains on the opposite side of the room.

"And that's on cheating!" Jimin picks up the cards in the center of the table, gathering them clumsily back into a pile.

"It's called having skill," Jungkook replies, holding his hands up as he smirks at his opponents.

"No, it's called luck." Yoongi finalizes as he puts his hand of cards down on the table with a roll of his eyes. You haven’t met Yoongi before until tonight. He’s one of Jimin's friends from Journalism Class.

When you arrived, you decided to sit out of this round and learn to play before joining the game-- knowing you; you would've been crushed within the first minutes of playing. Card games weren’t exactly a skill of yours— board games on the other hand were where it’s at! That, and charades. For the sake of the party, a card game didn’t sound too bad this time around— so you poke at Jimin to give you the hand as he serves cards for everyone else.

“Wait, wait, wait—“ Jimin pauses, his hand disappearing beneath the table to grab his phone. “Hello?”

“I’m not Irish, so does luck really count?” Jungkook questions in a hushed whisper, nudging Yoongi in the side.

“Oh hey...yeah... it’s apartment 205.” Jimin continues.

“You’re so funny, Jk. Maybe you’ll actually become successful if you choose stand-up comedy rather than becoming a musician.” Yoongi replies nonchalantly, his cat-like eyes staring at the abandoned pile of cards before he seems to come to the decision to shuffle them himself. He gives you a small smile when you hold your hand out to signal that you’re joining in this round.

“Mhm, you can just walk on in! Doors unlocked… okay.. alright, see ya in a minute.” When Jimin's phone is down, Yoongi passes a hand of cards to him.

“Think you can beat me, Y/n?” Jungkook asks,”Since apparently these four can’t?” He motions to Yoongi and Jimin, glancing at the other two players of the game: Hoseok (Jimins other classmate) and his girlfriend, Faith.

“I think I can.” You say, smirking at the determined expression on Jungkooks face. Even if you weren’t very fond of card games, there was one thing you were even less fond of: losing.

“Mmm, might want to rethink that, but okay.” Jungkook replies. The two of you are death staring when the sound of the front door creaking open catches the attention of everyone else at the table. Jimin shoots out of his chair.

“Taehyung!”

You freeze.

"You-" He pauses, taking another sharp breath and running a hand through his hair. If you thought he couldn't get more attractive, you were wrong. "Do you know me?"

Attractive? Yes. Psycho?... possibly.

“I’m so sorry, there're so many people that come to visit us and sometimes I forget the regulars!” You apologize. “That’s my fault… remind me of your name again?”

"It's- It's-."

“Taehyung, you just missed me creaming everyone in bullshit.” Jungkook boasts. Your eyes are glued to the side of Jungkook's head, not daring to make eye contact with the source of your nerves the past few weeks.

“Oh did I?” The familiar, deep voice utters.

Okay.. you can’t help but look…

Holy—it’s actually him.

Immediate regret sinks into your soul when you see him. God, he’s even handsomer than you remember. A white woolen sweater hangs over a pair of his black pants, matched with white sneakers and accenting the head of dark wavy hair you’d been thinking about since you last saw him.

“Yep!” Jungkook continues. “And now Y/n’s about to get shitfaced too.”

The moment his eyes swiftly glance your way is the moment you crumble and turn your head back to Jungkook. You had hoped to make a sly remark, something along the lines of “in your dreams,” but you’re caught breathless from the tension in the room. The tension only the two of you are aware of. He must be tense too, right?

“I wouldn’t underestimate her.” You hear out of Taehyung's mouth, stealing a look at his face once more. He’s smirking at Jungkook, hanging his coat on the hook beside yours, oblivious of the way you’re basically dissecting his every move.

“Have you met Y/n?” Jimin questions, provoking Taehyung's eyes to fall back onto yours. This time, you don’t look away.

He doesn’t answer right away, making you more nervous than you should be— the silence deafening as you make to explain, “We-“

“No.” He states plainly, cutting you off. An innocent smile plays on his lips as he looks at Jimin and places his messenger bag beside the door.

No? Uhhh, was he not the guy who pretended to know who you were and cried in front of you without even explaining why? Nope, it’s definitely him.

“I’m Taehyung.” He calls in your direction, offering you a boxy smile and a small nod, “Don’t let Jungkook fool you. A girl pinched him when we were in grade school. He barely lasted five seconds before running away screaming.” Taehyung moved to the table, sitting beside the man he just brutally embarrassed.

“That girl was terrifying. She was way taller than all the other sixth graders. It was an unfair situation.” Jungkook protested, sinking in his chair as he shuffled the cards he held in his hand.

You couldn’t help but stare dumbly at Taehyung. Was he embarrassed of his outburst at the cafe that he just hopes you forgot about him? You guess you didn’t exactly meet each other, other than a few words exchanged before he disappeared out the door. He probably doesn’t want his friends to know about what happened. Or did he not recognize you and completely forgot about the whole ordeal?

Okay, it’s fine… totally fine.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” you laugh, “no more coming in late, Jk. Or I’ll have to pinch you.”

Jungkook merely rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his beer. You see the crinkle in Taehyung's eyes as he laughs, the boxy smile taking root on his face again… a smile you’ve begun to enjoy the look of.

Hey. Snap out of it. This guy is so confusing. That’s a red card.

You straighten up in your seat, catching Jimin's attention when you move towards the kitchen, motioning with your hand to signal that you’re getting another drink. You have a feeling you’re gonna need some more alcohol to get through the evening.

Jimins place is clean, every knick knack placed neatly where it belongs; accompanied by the smell of potted plants that he keeps by his windows. Little name tags are attached to the plant stems: Flo, Sprout, Bob. He names his plants. Sweet.

He, like you, has a great view of the city too, a mid-size window perched above his breakfast nook where a small potted plant (quotabley named “bean”) grows. The city is bustling below as you reach for a beer, shrugging off the fact that you hate beer, but at least the taste will distract you from Tae-

“Hey.” You hear a soft voice call from the kitchen archway. When you turn you nearly drop the bottle out of your hand. Taehyung gives you a soft smile.

“Hey! Uh.. did you want a beer, or are you a wine guy?” You question, cringing at how much higher your voice sounds at his close proximity.

“I— Sorry, neither.” He starts, shoving his hands into his pockets as he makes his way around the island. “I uh- I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

You nod slightly, “Yeah of course… what’s up?”

“Um,” he’s nervous, you notice. “I just wanted to apologize about the whole thing at the cafe a few weeks ago.. I was— not in the right state of mind.” He meets your eyes hesitantly, “you just look like someone I know from a long time ago and it kind of.. took me by surprise, I guess.”

Jimin was right. You offer him a smile, shaking your head in disbelief, “You know what, I truly thought that was the reason… It’s totally fine. I’m not who you think I am, by the way.”

A flicker of something crosses his features at your comment, something you can’t quite pick up, but he changes it quickly to a smirk. “Obviously.” He laughs, “I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.. I’m not weird, I swear.”

“Mmm, that’s what they all say.” You tease.

He laughs, a soft sound that you want to hear over and over again. “You’ve got me there.” He takes a pause, placing his hands on the island countertop. “Let’s start over? If that’s okay? I didn’t want to mention it when I came in because I wanted us to have a fresh start.”

You push down the questioning thought of who this woman he mistook you for was, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. “That’s totally okay.. clean slate?”

“Clean slate.” He finalizes.

“Straightforward,” You add, “I like it.”

He gives you a warm smile, the same edge in the way he looks at you dances in his eyes before he breaks it off, sliding the bottle of beer out of your own hand. “Actually, I think I will have a beer. You don’t seem like a beer drinker, anyway.” He turns quickly, smirking at you before striding out of the room. “Thanks, Y/n!”

Protestations die on your lips as he disappears from the room, your beer along with him. How rude. You can’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you turn back to the cupboard, skipping the beer and pouring yourself a second glass of wine. You weren’t a beer drinker, after all.

Although you weren’t one for parties, you couldn’t help but admit the fact that you were having a good time. No, a great time. All of you are seated in Jimins living room; a plate of chips sits on the coffee table, which was the hot spot of the night (considering there’s hardly any remaining). Others in the group still have a glass of alcohol in their hands, the tipsiness evident by the slurring of their words. You had stopped yourself after half of your second glass, playing it safe since you still have to walk home after the party. You weren’t much of a drinker anyway-- your family history being the root of this decision.

It isn’t the games that made the night this enjoyable, or the food, or the movie that is currently playing over Jimin's television (which, by the way, is Moulin Rouge, because half of the room enjoys musicals, and the other half enjoys regular movies. So, you decided to settle on a movie musical). None of that matters, except the fact that you’ve never felt this carefree in a long time.

For one night, you can put aside your cafe job, auditions, and never-ending to-do lists and just have fun. Real fun. Even in the audition rooms, it has never been fun for you. It’s been nerve-wracking to a fault and always ends with a “thank you for taking the time, but we’ve decided not to accept you this time around,” or a callback, which ultimately concludes with the same grueling fate.

But this is different.

This is a group of people who genuinely want to spend time with you and get to know you… with no “not this time’s” or open-ended questions.

Especially with Taehyung. You’re surprised at how quickly the two of you seemed to hit it off, despite the awkward introduction. Now, it feels like he’s known you for years… in the best way. You’re comfortable talking to him, chatting together during the movie about the plot points or songs you find specifically endearing. You had initially planned to sit next to Jimin… but ended up next to Taehyung on the couch.

It just happened.

He enjoys musicals as well, you learn. Maybe not as much as you do, but at least he doesn’t despise them. He’s one of Jimin’s friends from their shared art class. He loves the color brown. His favorite food is watermelon. He does illustrations for Jimins journalism projects (which, in your opinion, are exceptional from the photos he showed you during the movie while the others were engulfed in the film). He wishes to pursue traveling journalism, where he draws what he sees rather than taking pictures. His whole aura is warm… like a heated blanket that envelopes you whole when you feel him shift beside you on the sofa. A small reminder that he’s still there.

Okay, you’re liking his presence way too much.

He finds romance movies corny but a guilty pleasure nonetheless. This, the reason why he agreed to watch Moulin Rouge despite the cheesiness in the beginning. In the end, it was anything but cheesy.

"Well, that was stupid." Jungkook scoffs, slamming the remote onto the neighboring loveseats' armrest. The once loud room filled with music is now quiet from the after-effects of the movie.

“I told you it was sad!” Jimin exclaims. The two of you had seen this movie before in theatres… and this was nothing compared to how the ending hit the first time. “Y/N was nearly choking. She was crying so hard when we saw it.”

An immediate blush rises onto your cheeks as you shake your head in defiance, trying to hide the tears that had been stinging your eyes for the last thirty minutes. “Who wouldn’t cry at that??”

“Taehyung probably didn’t. He never cries.” Hoseok deadpans. Ha. You can’t help but remember the tear that ran down his face in the cafe… He never cries?

With a quick look over your shoulder, you find that Taehyung is no longer seated on the couch. When did he get up? You attempt to shrug off your curiosity, pivoting back towards the chip table where only sad little crumbs remain. You were worrying way too much over a man you quite literally just met tonight… even if it felt like you’ve known him for much longer.

Taehyung eventually reappeared, stating that he had to use the bathroom— you ignored the fact that it took him a solid 30 minutes to get back to the party. It wasn’t your place to ask any questions, especially since he lifted a smile onto his face the second he reentered the room. See, y/n… nothing to worry about.

It wasn’t long before you insisted you head home, knowing that you’d curse yourself in the morning if you stayed out past the sunrise. If you did, you’d sleep through tomorrow, and that would be awful. You’ve done this a few times… and every time, you felt like you had wasted an entire year of your life.

You move to grab your purse and jacket, which are hanging comfortably on the hook beside the front door. With a small smile, you bid everyone goodnight— smiling as they resume a card game around the table at one o’clock in the morning. It’s nice to know that the group of you hit it off… now; you can look forward to plenty of get-togethers in the future.

Your mind is bustling with all kinds of ideas: picnics in central park, late-night broadway shows, hangouts at the caf-

“Y/n!” The soft calling of Taehyung's voice causes you to halt near the exit, turning on your heel to see him jogging towards you. He had haphazardly thrown his jacket over him since it’s still being tugged onto his body as he runs. His hair becomes even more chaotic in his haste… Why do you want to run your hands through it?

“Hey!” You squeak, interrupting your thoughts before they trudged down a guilty road. “What are you doing? Weren’t you going to play another round?”

He gives you a smirk, catching his breath as he holds out your house keys. “You forgot these! You were really moving fast… sick of us already?”

“Wh— oh my god, thank you!” With a quick swipe of your hand, you’re stuffing your keys into your pocket with a grateful smile. “Also, hardly.”

You admire the way his eyes light up at your confession. “Well.. since you don’t want to leave us so quickly.. how about I walk you home?” He seems almost hesitant asking, but you can’t help but applaud him for actually taking the initiative to inquire.

You shake your head, pulling the strap of your purse farther up your shoulder. “You don’t have t-“

“I want to!” He cuts you off quickly, catching you by surprise as he moves past you to open the door. He glances back, taking in your reluctant expression, “It’s not safe this time of night Y/n… You shouldn’t be alone.“

You know he didn't mean anything by that statement… But the idea of someone genuinely caring and not wanting you to be alone makes your heart swell. Jimin cares about your safety of course, but this feels… Different.

This is the reason why you allow him to walk you home.

The snow crunches beneath your feet, like a symphony that beckons you home. You’ve been feeling exhaustion seeping into your bones for the last ten minutes, but Taehyung's occasional brush of his arm as he walks beside you keeps you wide awake. He doesn’t think to apologize for accidentally touching you, but you blame it on the time of night. Delusion.

“How long have you lived in New York?” You question, wrapping your coat tighter around you to kick out the nipping air.

“About a year now,” He responds, shuffling his feet, “though it feels like way longer. You?”

“Three years.”

Taehyung turns his head towards you, eyes wide. “Wow, way to one up me.” With a teasing smile he continues, “You must know this city like the back of your hand.”

The truth is… you don’t. You came here for the sole purpose of making it on Broadway... you never really took the time to focus on anything else. Part of you wishes you had learned more, craved more, wanted more with your life—then you wouldn’t be so miserable when the one thing you do want doesn’t work out. “Yeah… kind of.”

If he hears the somber tone of your voice, he ignores it, turning against the wind as he walks backwards down the sidewalk. “It’s overrated in my opinion.”

You raise your head at this, “Why is that?”

“Everyone here has dreams… and those dreams get crushed more often than not.” He shrugs, “No one cares if you want to succeed, only if you already have.”

You stare at him for a moment, awestruck by the weight of his words. “But,” he adds, turning back towards the wind, “the ones who never give up and continue to chase that dream can become successful. Despite all of the no’s they might face, they always hold on till they hear a yes. That sounds like true success to me.”

Turning your head, you stare at the side of his face— admiring the way his hair tosses back a bit against the harsh winter winds. His words hit you way deeper than he probably realized, sinking into your chest with an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. You’ve been contemplating recently on whether or not to give up on your dream… that maybe it just wasn’t going to work out for you. You have been trying for so long, and have repeatedly been let down. There was no way Taehyung could have known, which is why his words hit you as hard as they did. Despite the hardships, you’ve been here for three years and you’ve never given up or stopped trying to chase your dream.

That was an achievement, right?

“To be honest… I've heard a lot of no’s in my three years of being here.” You speak softly, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. “Sometimes it feels like there will never be a yes… but here I am. At least I'm still working— at a coffee shop, not on the stage.”

“It’s admirable that you keep going.” Taehyung glances at you over his shoulder. “It makes you different from a lot of people who have left the city when they faced failure. It’s something to be proud of. Plus, coffee shop or big stage, you’re in New York City and pursuing your gift. It’s special.”

When your eyes meet, you smile at him, feeling a sense of victory the longer you hold his gaze.

“Don’t give up, Y/n. No matter what.” He speaks genuinely, leaning towards you to nudge you gently on your shoulder. You can’t help but laugh at his playfulness, giving him a nudge in return before your eyes downcast to your winter boots. The snow on the ground is fresh, powdery and sticking to the toes of your shoes. “Plus,” He adds, sucking in the chilly air, “you've got what others don’t have…”

This time when you meet his eye he has a serious expression, making sure he has your full attention as you round the corner towards your apartment building. His gaze is genuine, captivating… and a part of you hopes that the close proximity of your apartment wouldn’t cut this moment short. Finally, he speaks.

“You have passion.”

Taehyung's words weigh on you for the rest of your night. It started off as something simple, looking up audition songs for an upcoming off-broadway show your agent was telling you about. Then, you went to learning it. After that, putting on makeup. And finally, completely forgetting about your sleep schedule and filming an entire audition tape in your room at 2 in the morning (and you were belting… your poor neighbors). It wasn’t until four that you finally turned in for the night, not bothering to take off your makeup or get changed-- simply falling onto your pillow and blacking out the moment you hit it. You were definitely sleeping the next day away… but at that moment, you didn’t mind. Having a day off from your busy schedule wouldn’t be so bad.

“I sent in an audition tape two nights ago.” You speak confidently, wiping down the back counter that’s littered with coffee grounds. They stick to the rag like glue, tiny dots scattered along its white surface. If it weren’t for your apron,

and your expertly rolled up white turtleneck sweater, you would look alot like this rag right now.

“Did you?” Jimin questions from the bar, sleeving the cup before placing it on the handoff counter.

“Christopher! Medium cappuccino!” He calls, multitasking while he cranes his neck to still hear you.

“I did. I feel really good about this one..” You add, meeting him beside the bar as he lifts the pitcher up and down to create the latte-art of a flower in the center of the mug. You have tried sooooo many times to make latte art… and every time it ended up looking like a glob. A big, distorted snowball. Jimin was the master of latte art, always finishing it off beautifully with a whip of his wrist. The foam atop telling a story. “It was so late-- I was totally out of it… and yet I actually enjoyed myself while filming it. I just imagined being there.. In center stage.”

“I’m happy for you, Y/n!” He smiles, turning to place the hot mug next to the cappuccino.

“Caleb! Medium caramel latte!”

He was only half listening to you. The cafe was bustling, so it truly wasn’t Jimin's fault that he was sidetracked— but nothing could hold back the small smile that played at the edge of your lips. You had actually enjoyed singing for the first time in a while.. all because of Taehyung's Academy Award winning pep talk. Who knew that all you needed was for someone to tell you like it is. With a minuscule smile, you turn back towards the counter and lift the latte you’d whipped up this morning to your lips. Your distorted snowball is fully on display at the top.

Despite the busyness, the front register is deserted, giving you time to think for a moment about the pep talk... or rather, the person who gave you it.

“I think Taehyung likes you.” Jimin deadpans.

Uhhh… You nearly spit out your snowball at that— clearing your throat as you set it down slowly onto the wooden countertop. He speaks as if this is a natural conversation starter… it’s not.

“I’m sorry?” You croak.

“Taehyung.” He repeats, turning his head in your direction with a knowing smirk. “I think he likes you.”

You give him a scoff of disbelief, watching as yet another group of regulars enter through the door. “That’s not true, he just doesn’t know me… so he made an effort to talk to me.” If you weren’t studying the group, you would've seen Jimin giving you a scrutinized look.

So, now you have his attention.

“Y/n. It’s so obvious… He spent the entire night talking to you, he left moments after you did to give you your keys and he never came back. If that isn’t someone who’s interested, I don’t know what is.” Jimin is an expert at multitasking, finishing off two drinks at the same time and calling them out.

“Well, Jimin, when people don’t know each other, they get to know each other. It’s this thing called talking and becoming friends.” The sentence hangs in the air as the doorbell chimes, signaling that yet another customer has entered the cafe and into the swarm of regulars, but the two of you disregard the sound and continue on through your bickering.

“I’m just saying, Taehyung doesn’t usually talk to girls.” Jimin adds, wiping his hands off on the white rag seated beneath his espresso machine. “Even if they wanted his attention, he didn’t give it to them. I mean— he’s nice to girls, don’t get me wrong.. but he’s never talked to them like he did with you on game night. I don’t think he’s dated anyone since he got here.”

“He’s career driven.” You say quickly.

If you thought his smirk couldn’t get any wider, you were wrong. “Yeah, girls don’t know that about him— meaning he told you, and not other girls.” Jimin deadpans.

You stare blankly at him. There’s no way. No way that a guy as attractive as Taehyung would even think about looking at you like that. There’s just no way. You’ve never had a boyfriend... or even a guy friend, until Jimin. Eventually, you’d accepted the fact that maybe you just weren’t that interesting. Maybe you weren’t pretty enough. Maybe you couldn’t flirt…. okay, you definitely couldn’t flirt— but that’s besides the point.

“He’s not interested in me.” You conclude.

“He is.” Jimin counters.

“He’s not.”

“He so is.”

“He’s so not.”

“Y/n. I swear to you. He’s interested and you need to shoot your shot.” He whisper-screams, throwing the rag in his hand onto the bar.

“Taehyung is not-“

A clearing of someone’s throat from beyond the register cuts your argument short, nearly making you lose your balance when you see who the source was.

You’re fairly certain you’ve turned pale.

Taehyung stands in front of you, eyeing between the two of you with an awkward expression. God, how long has he been standing there? “I figured I should step in before the two of you start fist fighting.”

“Hey!” The shrill of your voice causes you to wince.

“Hey.” He says with a smile, folding his arms in front of him and raising his eyes to the menu above your head. You can’t help the glare you send towards Jimin, who's notably holding back his laughter as he moves to the blender, the station farthest from the register. Ridiculous.

“What can we get for you?” You ask routinely, trying not to make it obvious that you were just talking about him… and praying that he wasn’t there to hear what the two of you were talking about.

“Hmm…” He looks especially good today, wearing a brown, long coat and a brown plaid scarf around his neck. He wasn’t kidding when he said his favorite color was brown, that’s for sure. It suits him. His hair is wavy, flowing to a point just under his eyebrows with a split off center, giving you the tiniest glimpse of his forehead. “How about an americano with hazelnut, and some cream?”

“We can do that for ya!” You have to force yourself to stop looking at him, pressing the buttons to ring up his order before you forget. You nearly overlook ringing up the hazelnut syrup. Why were you so dazed? He’s already placed his credit card into the chip reader, but your foggy brain asks anyway. “Anything else?”

“Yes, actually.” He speaks as you move towards the bar beside the register. Grabbing an empty pitcher, you pour the milk inside and reach for the steamer. He drops a dollar into the tip jar, not giving you enough time to thank him for the unnecessary effort before he speaks again. “Are you free later?”

NEXT CHAPTER

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starglow-xx · 4 years ago

Text

owning a bakery and being discovered by the ada and the port mafia (part 4)

platonic! mori ougai x f!reader

type of writing: head canons !!

this is part of my head canon series, flour & fluff !!

tag list is open !! go to this google form and fill it out to sign up!

series synopsis: owning a bakery at 20 is tough; even more so when you have to handle members of two opposing organizations! this is your journey to meeting those fools and creating an unlikely bond with each of them. but only at the cost of your peace and sanity.

fandom: bungou stray dogs

content: fluff & platonic stuff

previous: the doctor is in the house (quite literally)

author’s note: it’s port mafia time! ages are still one year younger than canon

also!! my 100 followers event still has 7 5 4 3 2 1 spot open for requests!! go check out this post for more info!! i’d like to get the whole prompt list done early so i have time to write them! (event is now closed as of feb. 10, 2021)

another doctor? oh wait, another doctor and his daughter

as you expected, ranpo and fukuzawa have not let you go easy after what had happened a couple days prior (3 days ago to be exact)

one of them, or more often than not, the two of them would go visit the bakery at least twice a day

once in the morning right before opening, and the second time right before closing

if they could, they would visit around lunch time, but that was usually yosano

tbh you were thankful that yosano hasn’t been as overbearing as the other two but you knew she probably wanted to give you a break because holy shit are they extremely over protective

currently, it was the fourth day of being watched by the two eldest ada members, but there were no said ada members with you at the moment

and boy were you overjoyed

turns out, the ada has an important escort job for a government official or smth, and on top of that, fukuzawa has a bunch of meetings to attend

even ranpo has his hands full with a couple of difficult murder cases across the country

you’re lowkey, no highkey, worried bc you learned literally 3 days ago that ranpo doesn’t know how to ride the train 😀😀

you were worried abt them, there’s no question, but on the inside you were a bit relieved to which ranpo called you out on it immediately

that led to the two of you going at each other’s throats for nearly half an hour

let’s just say fukuzawa scolded the two fo you for a while

going back to the present, it was around one pm and you had just finished sending a text message to both fukuzawa and ranpo (cause they insisted) when a little blonde girl with blue eyes wearing a red dress matching with a red bow in her hair and red shoes walked in

she immediately went to the glass case to look at the desserts displayed

as she looked around, you watched her at the corner of your eyes and a with a smile as you wiped down one of the tables

after wiping down the table, you quickly went to go wash your hands and you walked over and stood next to her

you bent slightly and smiled bigger as she stared at one of the treats in the glass

“is that the one you want?”

she nodded without looking away from the glass

you giggled before going to the back and placing the one she wanted on the plate and held it out to her

the blonde was honestly so confused bc one, no adult supervision, and two, there was no tell tale way to know that she had money

to you, she was an open book so when she looked at you, her face immediately read “but i have no money, or a parent...??”

you simply patted her head and pushed along to one of the nearby tables and pulled a chair for her

you did not regret anything when you saw the look on her face when you told her that it was on the house

“name’s elise!” “i’m (y/n)!”

you sat with her for a while continuing to give her sweets she reminded you of ranpo in all honestly and talking abt random things

she mostly complained abt a “rintarou” though

speaking of which, when a man in a doctor’s coat came through the door near screaming “elise-chan! elise-chan!” you figured that was probably the rintarou she was complaining abt

you smiled as you watched the two interact

“elise-chan why would just disappear like that?!”

“i wanted to see rintarou cry”

“so mean!”

...their behavior was questionable but endearing ig

“rintarou” suddenly turned to you, thanking you for “taking care of his daughter bc she’s always getting into trouble”

*cue angry noises and face from elise*

he introduced himself as a “local neighborhood doctor”

you smelled bullshit but didn’t say anything bc he has been kind to you so far

he asked you how he could repay you and you were thinking that you can actually win something bc you’re not refusing an ada member oh you poor oblivious child but you were appalled when elise answered for you

it went like this

“is there anything i can repay you with for taking care of my dear elise-chan? perhaps paying for all the sweets she has eaten?”

“oh no! don’t worry abt that, it’s nothing! it was a pleasure getting to know—”

“let’s buy out all of her food!”

h u h

you knew she enjoyed your pastries and stuff but like w h a t

you inwardly sigh in relief when the doctor agreed with you that “that’s a bit much elise-chan” and you were thanking every deity out there when suddenly

she threw a temper tantrum

you watched in confusion and slight horror at the 180 of the sweet little girl you were talking to like 10 minutes ago

her guardian panicked slightly and tried to get her to calm down but ahaha no that didn’t happen

“WAHH rintarou!! but i want it!! (y/n)’s food is the best i’ve ever had!!”

“b-but elise-chan, we can’t just buy—”

“i’ll wear all the dresses i’ve ever rejected and more if we buy it out right now and keep buying sweets here forever”

“...deal”

your eyes twitch at the “innocent” smiles the two gave you after their “talk”

fast forward literally 5 minutes and you’ve already flipped the close sign on your door with note (saying you’re sold out) and you’re all over the place running around behind the counter trying to fit everything into boxes as the two are sitting on a nearby table lightly chatting

about 20-25, nearly 30 minutes later you finishing packing everything in the glass case

it was a lot

we’re literally talking about tiered cakes and dozens of batches of cookies, cupcakes, literally everything and anything

when the two notice you’re done they get up meet you by the register

“a-ano, you really don’t have to buy all of this...the total is going to be quite large...”

“no worries!”

honestly at this point, you kind of missed the chaotic calls from ranpo that happened like every half hour

you thought you were done being surprised for the day but next thing you know men in suits come into Sakura’s and begin to load the boxes into a black car

dealing with the detectives was already starting to be a handful and now you have to deal whoever the hell these two people where

quite frankly, you were having trouble wrapping your head around all of this

like-

who buys out a whole bakery?!

and who has the money to buy out a whole bakery?!

what kind of job could you possibly have?!

was this guy really just a doctor?!

right before the two leave you call out to them

“a-ah wait! i don’t think i ever caught your name!”

the two blink at you before eyeing each other

“mori ougai” 😄😄

you started smelling bad shits again

>:/

it was a weird feeling

you felt something off but at the same time, you weren’t really afraid

and with that the two left

you were already tired from this whole thing but you now get the rest of the day off

so i guess something worked out in your favor

until the next fricking day

again, ranpo and fukuzawa canceled out on you

you weren’t sure if you were relieved or not

and as soon as you thought you were going to have a normal business day, guess who walked through the doors

yeah that’s right

“the local neighborhood doctor” and his daughter

you froze before eyeing them with suspicion

if mori was amused, he didn’t show it, only giving you a smile

elise immediately left his side and practically leaped onto you making you cut yourself with the knife you were holding

well shit now you’re bleeding

it was only 7:15 in the morning; you had literally just opened

you were cursing every deity out there

you quickly grab a nearby and press it against your wound and scrambled around looking for the first aid kit you had nearby

“oh? (y/n)-kun are you bleeding?”

“(y/n) i’m sorry!”

“a-ah, no worries elise-chan”

you really need to stop spacing out bc next thing you know, the sign on your door is flipped to close again (along with the same note from yesterday explaining you’re sold out taped on the door) and you’re sitting at a table with elise in your lap and mori wrapping your hand in a bandage

“tsk tsk (y/n)-kun you need to be more careful...but it is elise-chan’s fault”

“die rintarou!”

“but no worries! it’s not that deep so you don’t need stitches”

“thank you, mori-san, but can i ask why you and elise-chan are here again? not that i mind...”

whether or not you were lying is up to you

“oh we’re here to buy out your stock again!”

“wait what-”

the fuck???

did they not just buy everything yesterday???

frozen, you stare at the man in front if you with said man giving you another “innocent” smile

this little shit

wait till you meet dazai

but i guess that’s why the sign on the door is flipped to close bc you don’t even remember flipping it yourself or taping the note from yesterday to the door

you spent the next half hour trying to convince the two over some tea (your signature one of course) that “no you don’t need to or should buy everything i have, you’re going to deprive the rest of my customers”

cough cough ranpo

like the day before, you were losing this argument

can you just never win?

as you were losing the argument (obviously) you realized that you don’t even know why they want to buy everything again

“mori-san, why do the two of you even want to buy everything in the first place?”

“ah it was elise-chan’s request of course! but i do admit, after trying some of your sweets myself, i grew quite attached! so did the rest of my subordinates after my precious elise-chan made them try it, not like they could refuse her or me; i am their boss after all (y/n)-kun.”

*cue confusion*

“subordinates? wait are those the guys from yesterday?? aren’t you a doctor...?”

“ah ex-doctor actually, i’m the leader of the port mafia”

...

“ah (y/n)-kun that’s quite the coughing fit you have going on, do you need water?”

if it wasn’t obvious, you choked on your tea and had quite the coughing fit; you were wheezing and everything making elise leave you lap and settling for dangling over mori’s shoulders

“...you’re kidding”

“im afraid im not”

this man confuses the hell out of you??

like-

w h y would he just say that, to you of all people

but it explains the bad shits you were smelling/feeling yesterday

“are you afraid?”

“being completely honest with you, mori-san, not really”

“and why is that?”

you simply shrug not really knowing the answer

you aren’t lying, you just aren’t

maybe bc yesterday, he seemed more like a doting parent than the boss of the most criminal organization of yokohama

yes, you’ve heard the rumors, obviously, but just saying, if the port mafia wanted to hurt you, you’d probably be dead in a ditch by now

and they haven’t really been a bother to you, they were more like background characters in your life

well

until yesterday of course

mori simply raises an eyebrow and a smile seemingly okay with your very vague answer

“why did you tell me that mori-san?”

the man only smiles a bit wider at you and this time, you’re the one raising an eyebrow

“just a feeling”

yeah you were starting to smell bad shits again

“and besides! elise-chan seems quite fond of you (y/n)-kun! i wasn’t planning on doing anything to you in the first place, but even if i wanted to, i don’t think i could! i wouldn’t want to upset my dearest cute elise-chan”

“die rintarou!”

“that’s mean elise-chan!”

your eyes began to twitch in slight annoyance

cause istg the duality of this man—

this strange strange man

oh dearest you haven’t even met dazai yet

after that has been said and done, somehow you found yourself in front of stores being dragged by elise

how did you end up there you ask? i don’t know either so there’s nothing we can do abt that

eventually, you found yourself holding a bunch of shopping bags full of dresses and clothes of the sort

some of it your size and the others elise’s

...

“mori-san?”

“yes (y/n)-kun?”

“why do i have bags of clothing that are fit for me rather than elise?”

“oh that’s because elise refused to go without you and if you didn’t get anything!”

yeah

that makes perfect sense, of course

you could see why elise kept on complaining abt this guy

the two of you actually bonded over making fun of him

you have n o fear

actually, maybe just a little

the three of you were out for basically the entire day and you were exhausted

cause holy shit there was a lot of money wasted, shopping bags obtained, and walking involved

it was around 5 pm when the three of you were making it back to Sakura’s

along the way you found yourself having a pleasant conversation with mori

even if he was a questionable person to be having a pleasant conversation with, you enjoyed it nonetheless

you hoped that it makes it harder to get rid of you if he ever changed his mind but we don’t talk abt that

anywho

when the three of you arrived, you immediately dumped all the bags you were holding and went straight to work packaging everything for “the local neighborhood doctor”

before they left, mori agreed to not buy out all of your stock except for some occasions but instead settled ordering massive batches of a little bit of everything every few days

how that’s not the same as buying everything you won’t ever know

you were standing outside Sakura’s watching the two get into the car that had arrived when suddenly, mori turned to you

“ah (y/n)-kun, i know that you wouldn’t tell anyone about this, it wouldn’t be like you to, but just a reminder, it would probably be in your best interest not to let anything slip to anyone okay? we wouldn’t want any enemies using you against the port mafia. so take care of yourself hm? see you next time”

and bippity boppity boo just like that, they were gone

how that man managed to get your personality down in just like 10 hours you don’t want to know

and that’s basically the story of how you started making more food/bake goods to sell

true to his word, every few days, or sometimes consecutive days, mori called you and made a large order

and i mean large

on those days, someone from the port mafia would pick it up and then you get paid

thankfully, by increasing the amount of food you made, you always had enough to put out on display and to sell even after the large order

before doing that, on those days you didn’t have a large stock, someone by the name of edogawa ranpo would weep at your feet

he will deny this; after all, great detectives don’t do weeping

or so he says

and speaking of the detective, you never did tell him what had transpired the two days he and fukuzawa were absent on checking on you

but tbh, i even think ranpo could’ve deduct this one

you didn’t tell him bc you were afraid, no of course not that’s ridiculous mori, in elise’s words, was a loser

you didn’t tell him bc you knew he and fukuzawa would flip the fuck out

and that would be a major inconvenience to you

you didn’t see the point in telling them anyway

so whatever, it’s like it’ll be important

and if ranpo and fukuzawa noticed the abundant of bags near the door leading up to the staircase when they visited you at the end of the day they didn’t say anything

of course one of them said smth

“ne (n/n)-chan since when did you like to buy a bunch of things; waste of money if you could just be using that money to make more food so you wouldn’t sell out right away and have food to feed me”

your eyes twitched

he could’ve worded that a little better but whatever

it is ranpo-san after all

“i just got carried away since i closed up early; you know it isn’t often i get to go shopping”

and if he smelled your bullshit he didn’t say anything

for real this time

that slightly concerns you ngl

anyways

let’s just say quite a few heads were turned when they saw their boss leading a bunch of lower level subordinates carrying many light pink boxes of different sizes to his office for the second time

oh and just another thing

*whispers* he was lying when elise made his other subordinates eat your food; they kept it all to themselves”

was that a ruse to help lead the revelation of his real occupation who knows

“(y/n)-kun is a very interesting person don’t you think so elise-chan?”

“quiet. i’m eating cake.”

“that’s so mean elise-chan!”

<<previous // next >>

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naminethewriter · 3 years ago

Text

His Brother’s Wedding

I took part in the @sanderssidesgiftxchange! This is for @feminine-femme who requested Roman/Emile in a Flower Shop/Tattoo Shop Au. This is my first time writing Emile, so I hope I did him justice. Also I put off writing this for a long time and I have more ideas on how the story progresses, so I might write more but we’ll see. I hope you all have fun reading what I have for you now 🥰💖💗

Here on Ao3

Characters: Emile, Grandma Maggie (OC), Roman, Logan & Remus & Remy mentions

Relationships: pre-romantic Romile

Rating: G

Words: 2,473

Summary: Emile came to help his grandmother in her shop. He didn't expect the handsome guy that comes in to complain about his brother.

After taking one last look around the shop and deeming it clean, Emile put the broom away. Even if there usually wasn’t much foot traffic, he figured the place looking nice wouldn’t be a bad thing. The owner seemingly disagreed.

“Wasting the first half hour of your shift on cleaning, huh?” Emile sighed and turned around to his grandmother, Margaret. Though more commonly known to him as Grandma Maggie.

“It’s not a waste, Grandma. It puts me at ease and I can concentrate better.”

“Yeah, yeah. More importantly, have you checked that the flowers actually have water or is that not so high on your list of priorities?”

“I checked the water and made sure there are no wilting ones displayed.”

“Well, that’s something I guess,” Maggie scoffed before waving him to the back. Emile knew that she was just cranky because she didn’t like why he was here. She was getting on in years and their family worried about her not being able to handle the shop alone anymore. Emile agreed (not that he would ever tell her that) so he decided to take a break from his psychology degree to help her during this summer. Maggie had only accepted when he told her he would come either way and only lie around the house all day if she didn’t let him work. She grumbly accepted.

Summer was a special time in this particular coastal town. Especially for a few selected flower shops. Because this region was home to a unique type of flower that only grew under the conditions there. Any attempts at recreating those somewhere else have failed and around 80 years ago a law prevented any more experiments to be conducted. The production and distribution of this flower have since been heavily regulated. Grandma Maggie’s shop is one of only five local stores that are allowed to sell them and she gets a set amount each year (with some small variation depending on the harvest).

It's formal name Emile couldn’t remember for the life of him but it is most commonly known as: Stardrop. Five petals in yellow, white, or a mix of both with a scent that is calming and light.

Emile knew that soon this year’s batch would be ready and his grandmother already had a lot of pre-orders, mainly from restaurants and hotels that decorate their establishments with them for the season. Others were for weddings, festivals, or other celebrations. So the first thing he had to learn now was how to make the arrangements and bouquets that would be their main source of income soon.

In the backroom was a big table already cluttered with vases full of flowers, leaves, twigs, strings, and other types of decoration in a lot of different colors. He knew there was a system here somewhere on how to find something but to him it just looked like a huge mess. Grandma Maggie was already seated and impatiently patted the cushion next to her, so he sat down on the bench, ready to get lectured until either some customers or lunch time comes.

Emile relished his one-hour lunch break after spending hours under his grandmother’s sharp eyes with only very few interruptions. They had eaten together, upstairs in the apartment where they were now living together for the duration of his stay. Maggie went back down before him while Emile phoned his parents about the current situation.

Yes, I arrived safely. Yes, Grandma is fine. Yes, I’m helping her in the shop now. Yes, we’re getting along. So on and so forth. Emile loved his parents but they can be quite exhausting to deal with, especially when they’re worried about something.

After he was finally done, he went back down to the shop and found Maggie at the cash register.

“Mom and Dad send their love.”

“Yeah, yeah, they always do. They should worry about their own behinds and not question everything I do,” she scoffed. Emile couldn’t help but laugh.

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I’m always right!”

“I know, I know.” Maggie glared at him and he raised his arms in defense. She scoffed again but didn’t say anything more on the matter.

“Chloe is coming soon to get the rose bouquet she ordered. I got it done in the back so go get it.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am.” He evaded her attempt at smacking him in the arm and moved to the back. While looking around the mess of clutter in search of the flowers he remembers his grandmother telling him were for her friend Chloe only about two hours ago, the bell above the shop door rang. A customer.

“Maggie, you won’t believe what Remus cooked up now!”

A very loud costumer. Male. Very youthful. And apparently on first name basis with his grandma.

“How about saying hello first you whippersnapper!” Emile grinned. He really loved how she never changed, always snarky with everyone. Finally, he spotted the bouquet and made his way back front where the costumer was now leaning against the counter, an incredulous look on his face.

“I’m distraught and you expect me to be courteous? I thought we were past that!” The stranger held a hand over his heart as if she had attacked him and Emile could immediately tell he had an appreciation for theater. The man moved fluently but very overdramatically, and his grandmother watched him with the most unimpressed look she could muster.

“My, how could I forget. No need for manners just because you had another squabble with your brother. I should be ashamed,” she added in a monotone voice. The man, who had been motioning as if he was about to faint, turned his full attention back to her.

“Thank you for your understanding, it was very hard indeed!”

“Mhm, I’m sure it was.” The stranger laughed and reached for her hand but she slapped him away immediately. “Keep your lips away, you scoundrel.” The man laughed louder and Maggie cracked a small smile herself. Finally, he was still enough that Emile could get a good look at his features.

Brown eyes and hair, tan skin and probably quite a few inches bigger than himself. His smile showed off almost perfect teeth (not that that was something Emile normally noticed but they were almost twinkling in the fluorescent light of the shop). He was dressed in a red jacket with rolled up sleeves, a white shirt underneath and blue jeans. His ears were pierced and a tattoo peaked out at the edge of his shirt collar around the right shoulder.

Emile found him incredibly handsome.

And of course that was the moment their eyes met. For a few moments they just stared at each other in shock before the man regained his composure and flashed him his pearly white teeth again.

“My Maggie, who’ve you been hiding from me back there?” She looked over her shoulder and Emile could see a switch flip in her head. She rolled her eyes before turning back to the stranger.

“My grandson. Emile, get over here before your eyes fall out.” He flinched lightly, embarrassed that he’d been called out for staring but made his way over to them.

“Hi, I’m Emile, I’m staying here for the summer.” He wanted to hold out his hand for a handshake before he remembered the vase with the bouquet still in his arms. He quickly set it down, ears burning red.

“Roman. I work in the shop across the street,” the man introduced himself and grabbed Emile’s hand as soon as it was free. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Maggie told me all about the warden her family would be sending over to guard her from the dangers of working in a flower shop. It is indeed honorable that you took on such a challenge!” He winked and Emile burst out in giggles.

“We just don’t want her to overwork himself but thanks for the compliment.” Roman gave him another one of his brilliant smiles and as he pulled back, Emile could spot another tattoo on the wrist of his right hand. Without thinking he grabbed the hand again and twisted it around so he could get a better look.

“Emile don’t be rude,” his grandmother chided and he immediately let go.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t even realize!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Roman laughed, “most people are curious about it. You can look as long as you want, it’s good advertisement anyway.”

“Advertisement?”

“Open your eyes next time you’re outside!” Maggie commented, only confusing Emile more.

“I work at a tattoo shop. Since it’s directly across the street I assumed you knew what I meant,” Roman explained, letting his arm drop to his side.

“Oh! I only arrived yesterday and was pretty beat, so I didn’t pay attention. It feels like the shops on this street are always different when I come visit.”

“I understand the feeling. Whenever I visit my mother I feel the same way.” They smiled at each other until Maggie scoffed again.

“Your break isn’t gonna last forever, kid. What were you here to tell me? Don’t tell me the plan went wrong this weekend?” Roman’s eyes left Emile and he felt like he finally remembered how to breathe properly. His eyes had been so captivating.

Wait. Was he already developing a crush?! Remy wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if that was the case. He always said that Emile fell too easily.

“Oh no, that was fine. Everything went exactly as it should have and Logan said yes, no problem. But of course then came the question of when and you know what they decided on? The end of summer!”

“Wait, are we talking about a wedding?” Emile asked, wholly out of the loop.

“Yes. My brother Remus and his boyfriend – well I guess fiancé now – have been together since we were still in school and he finally got the nerve to propose to him, thanks to me of course, so we made a plan and everything and of course Logan said yes, as if he wouldn’t. They’re both way too insecure sometimes.”

“And they decided to get married at the end of summer?”

“Yes! Can you imagine?!” Emile and Maggie exchanged a glance, both apparently not quite understanding the problem. Roman seemed to pick up on their confusion.

“That’s only three months away! How long do they think it takes to organize a wedding?!”

“Oh! You meant this year. Yeah, that’s quiet soon,” Emile nodded.

“I know, right? Who in their right mind decides to plan a wedding in three months!”

“I mean Candace did it in one day, so…” Emile mumbled. Roman blinked at him.

“Who?”

“Candace? From Phineas and Ferb?”

“Oh! I haven’t watched that show in ages! Would be fun to revisit, I guess.”

“I highly recommend it!” Emile smiled, thankful that Roman didn’t question his knowledge of a cartoon for kids. A lot of people at his university did.

“Well, I probably won’t have the time any time soon! Because I know my brother, if I don’t keep him on track, nothing will get done.”

“What about his fiancé?”

“Logan likes organization and all that, but he gets so absorbed by his work, he’ll forget everything else. And they’re in the middle of a huge project, so I doubt he’ll remember to add the wedding stuff to his to-do list until a few weeks before.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s a marine biologist. I’m sure you know the research station. They’re worried about the reef so they’ve been collecting samples non-stop, I think.”

“I see… Well, I’m sure if you’re there to help, you can all find a way to work with each other.” Roman seemed to deflate a bit at that, ending the overdramatic act he’s been putting on so far. He slumps a bit more and looks at Emile with the insecurity written all over his face.

“I know,” he sighs. “Somehow we always pull through and they don’t even want a big party but still…” Another sigh. “Remus and I don’t always get along, but I know him the best. He really adores Logan and even if he acts like he doesn’t care if they’ll get married and all that, I know he was super nervous about the proposal. That’s why he put it off for so long. I’m just worried that he’ll try to avoid actually planning the whole thing because he doesn’t want to ruin it and then stress himself and Logan out last minute. He deserves the best wedding he can get.” By the end of his rant, Roman is leaning on his arms on the counter, staring at the stone surface with his brows furrowed. Emile takes a moment to process the information and think about his response before he gently lays a hand on Roman’s shoulder.

“It’ll be alright, I’m sure. You’re there to help them and it seems like you know what you’re doing. And I can help too if you want. Besides work I don’t really have any plans and I’m sure Grandma would be happy if I don’t hang around here all the time, right, Grandma?” He turns to where she stood but apparently, she had left without him noticing. By the look on Roman’s face, neither had he. They looked at each other and laughed.

“Thanks for the offer. I’m sure there’ll be something for you to do, even if it’s just arranging the flowers.” Roman winked and Emile giggled.

“That’s only if I survive my internship.”

“Internship?”

“Grandma is teaching me how to make the ordered arrangements in the back. Until I’ve got that down I ‘have no business being in the front’ she said.”

“That sounds like something she’d say, alright.”

“You two making fun of me now?” Maggie came back into the room and stares them down. Emile mutters a sorry while Roman just gives her a wink as well. She scoffed. “Get out of my store, kid. Your break’s as good as over.” He stole a glance at the clock, wide-eyed.

“Damn it. Gotta go! It was nice to meet you, Emile! See you soon.” Before he could respond, Roman was out of the door.

“If you ask me, he and his brother are more alike than either’d like to admit,” Maggie commented after a moment. Emile, having never met Remus, couldn’t really add anything so he just shrugged.

“I think he was very nice.”

“Of course you did, you were making heart eyes at him the entire time.” With one last scoff she moved into the back. Emile followed her, protesting while being beet red in the face. Only when he laid down in bed this evening did he realize he never got a good look at Roman’s tattoo. He’d have to ask again next time.

#namiswriting #my writing #sandersxchange21 #his brother's wedding #romile #roman sanders #emile picani #ts roman #human!au #flowershop!au #tattooshop!au #background intrulogical #grandma maggie #fluff #sanders sides #fanficiton #sanderssides fanfiction

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amjustagirl · 4 years ago

Text

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

Masterlist here

AO3 Link here

‘Y'know, when I asked you to manage 'Tsumu, I never imagined you'd manage him like this.’ Osamu states bluntly, eyebrow raised as Atsumu spends yet another evening seated right by her spot at the till, lobbing playful insults and jokes at her until she snaps at him to ‘shut up for the love of all that is holy and stop disturbing the other customers’ .

‘Like what?!’ she splutters unconvincingly, her cheeks turning red.

Osamu gives her a knowing look before he turns away to welcome in another batch of customers.

Osamu closes the shop on the anniversary of its opening, and throws a small party at a rooftop bar that a friend of his owns. She’s told that her attendance is absolutely mandatory, so even though she has class early next morning, she finds herself with a drink in her hand, staring down at the crowds of downtown Osaka. If she squints, she can see a child pulling her mother to a stop, pointing overhead at the rainbow of neon street lights in awe.

‘A hundred yen for your thoughts?’ She doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s Atsumu, his lazy drawl far more pronounced than Osamu’s.

The child in the street below remains rooted to the spot, causing a buildup in the crowd despite her mother’s attempts to pull her away. It makes her think of the first time her parents brought her to visit the city more than a decade ago, and how overwhelmed she felt, surrounded by people and buildings tall enough to touch the sky, so different from her hometown of rolling hills and bamboo groves.

‘Did you feel sad when you left home?’ she replies with a question of her own.

‘Nah - was excited, really. Always dreamed of playin’ volleyball in the big leagues, so stayin’ home wasn’t gonna cut it for me, y'know?’

‘Heartless. Probably made your mother cry’, she accuses him, and he acknowledges it with a careless laugh.

‘What about you? Thinkin’ about home?’ he asks, coming to stand beside her, eyes trained on the thin line separating building and sky.

‘Leaving was necessary’, she responds simply.

Especially with two older brothers blessed with both brain and brawn, far better suited to inherit her father’s steel forge. But while her father might spend most of the day teaching her brothers how to craft the sharpest knives, his evenings were spent at the kitchen table with her perched on his lap, learning to balance numbers in his account books. And with her schoolteacher mother drilling into her head the importance of an education, moving down to Osaka for an accountancy degree seemed less like a choice and more like an inevitable conclusion.

He frowns at her silence. ‘Did you get kidnapped by aliens or somethin’? Usually you’d be snappin’ at me, or scolding me, or shouting at me for being a dick – completely undeserved, by the way’.

‘I just seem quiet because you talk too much. Has anyone ever told you that?’ she retorts. But there is no fire in her words, and he only chortles in response.

They watch in silence as the crowd below them slowly starts to thin out as the dusk fades into night. The cold night air bites through her thin sweater into her skin, and she shivers, unconsciously shifting closer towards Atsumu’s warmth. He shoots her a look that’s halfway between a smile and a smirk as he slides his jacket over her shoulders, and she pretends the flush on her cheeks is from the alcohol in her drink.

But she can’t help but lean into him, letting herself drown in the heat of his hand on her hip and the storm in his eyes.

Osamu’s eyes cloud in disapproval when he finds out she and Atsumu are dating. ‘He’d better not run off my accountant, that’s all I can say’.

‘Osamu! Atsumu’s your twin!’ she scolds, arm deep in a vat of rice water.

‘Exactly’, he responds with a snort. ‘I’m not sure you realise how much of a dick ‘Tsumu can be, ‘specially when all he’s hungry for is chasing a win. I hope you’re ready to handle that.’

‘You’re just worried because you’re too cheap to hire a qualified accountant to do your books’ she grouses and he looks like he’s about to snark back, but the chatter of their first customers of the day entering the shop signals the end of their conversation.

Dating Atsumu isn’t as bad as Osamu makes it out to be. She’s careful not to ask too much of him when he’s busy with training and competitions, and in any case her schedule is full enough with school and her job, but they make the effort of video calling each other at least twice a week if he’s travelling, and if he’s in town, they spend Friday nights with multiple boxes of pizza (Atsumu’s appetite is enormous) , bickering over what movie to watch next.

He insists she watch as many games of his as possible, and he spends so much time crowing about his plays that she should be annoyed, but she finds herself charmed by the childlike enthusiasm in his voice. ‘That’s probably why you’re the only one that can stand him’, Osamu comments but she pays him no mind. He’s in the audience cheering for her when she graduates, and takes her out for a fancy meal when she lands her first job ( no, Osamu, working at Onigiri Miya doesn’t count, no matter what you say).

Their paths might not always converge but when they do, there’s the quiet contentment of finding shelter in each other, and she quickly becomes addicted to the warmth of that feeling in her heart.

‘Stop being a baby’, she scolds, as she peels back the sports tape on Atsumu’s back with deliberate care. ‘It’s your fault for going for practice with a strained shoulder and not listening to your physiotherapist!’

‘Don’t nag darlin’, I had to – it was Hinata-kun’s first practice with us!’ He’s practically buzzing in his seat with glee, and she can’t help the soft smile that grows on her face.

‘There - all done’, she says, and she can’t help but run her hand to rest in the dip of his spine.

‘What would I do without you?’ he asks, shooting her a roguish smile that distracts her long enough that he’s able to pull her into his lap.

‘Idiot’, she huffs fondly, and he chuckles in reply, the sound warming her heart. ‘Hey ‘Tsumu?’ she says again, pushing his wandering hands away.

‘You called, doll?’ he quirks an eyebrow at her, hands heavy against her hips.

‘I love you’, she whispers against the broad expanse of his chest.

‘I know’, he says with light laughter in his voice, and swallows her outraged cry ‘arsehole!’ by sliding his mouth over hers until her breath starts to stutter and she closes her eyes.

There is a storm raging outside, but she pays it no mind.

Her stomach churns when she sees the faint line on the test she bought in a panic during her lunch break, and she now wonders whether the nausea she’s been feeling the past week was not a bug she thought she caught, but actually morning sickness after all. That thought makes her feel like puking her guts out again and she does - unceremoniously every morning for weeks after that.

Atsumu’s in the middle of a series of matches away from home, and she knows he’s warned her again and again not to distract him especially when the championship is within his team’s reach, but the rising swell of panic in her throat outwrestles any rational thought she has left in her head, so she finds herself blurting it out to him the minute they log on for their twice weekly call.

‘You’re pregnant?’ he echoes blankly, rubbing a disbelieving hand over his face. ‘How?’

‘D’you remember the gala night for the opening of the season when I was on antibiotics for an ear infection?’ He nods dumbly, and she twists her fingers in her lap. ‘Yeah… Well I figure it must have happened then.’

The connection of their call crackles, and she strains her ears for his response. It doesn’t come.

‘Tsumu?’

‘Right.’ he finally says. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’

‘I...don’t know,’ she confesses.

They’re both barely on the cusp of adulthood, and the thought of bringing a new life into the world that she’d be wholly responsible floods her with a tidal wave of fear and dread and anxiety that does not ebb away. She’s not sure her boss will take too kindly to finding out she’s pregnant, much less so out of wedlock, especially since she’s barely a year into her job, and she doesn’t even want to think about the dishonour and shame she’ll bring to her family - though a part of her is willing to brave her father’s disapproval and her mother’s tears just to feel their arms around her again.

But her hands are drawn to the slight swell of her belly, and perhaps it’s sentiment clouding her mind, she’s not sure she has it within her to stamp out the flicker of life budding within her after nights filled with dreams of a child with her smile and Atsumu’s eyes.

‘Look - I’ve got to go. We’ll talk when I get home, ok?’ he mutters, logging off before she can say goodbye.

But he doesn’t - not even when his team wins the championship and she finds out from the team’s social media that he’s returned back to Osaka.

Her calls go unanswered, her texts remain unread, and with desperation rising in her chest she turns to Osamu - even though she initially swore to herself she wasn’t going to drag him into the messes that Atsumu tends to make. But the laws in Japan require the consent of the father if she wants to get rid of the problem (though it feels wrong to term it like that), and he’s the closest male friend she trusts enough to step up to the plate.

‘Fuckin’ pig’ he snarls, slamming his fist down on the counter so hard it makes her jump back in shock at seeing the normally mild-mannered Osamu lose his temper and react with such obvious rage. But he calms down quickly to close his shop early and walk her home.

‘It’ll be fine’, he promises her. ‘You’ll see’.

She’s not sure she trusts Osamu’s definition of fine, not when Atsumu turns up on her doorstep that same night with a smear of blood under his nose and a purple bruise over his right eye. She stares at him, her arms folded across her chest.

‘What do you have to say for yourself, Miya?’, she says, and he winces at her use of his surname, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

‘I freaked out ok? Finding out that you got pregnant - that I’m going to be a dad made me panic ‘cos I’m totally not ready for that shit - even though Osamu’s right, I’m a piece of crap and you’re probably going through so much worse and I should do right by you -.’

‘Atsumu, what are you even saying?!’ She interrupts, exasperated.

‘I’m asking you to jump off a cliff with me’, he says, lifting his chin to return her stare.

‘Wha-’

‘Marry me.’ He cuts in softly, bringing his hand to cup her face, brushing his thumb across the corner of her lip. ‘It’s gonna be one hell of a ride, but you and I - we’ll get through this together’.

She’s struck dumb, suddenly reminded of how being with Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. While there’s the thrill of being near enough to witness the sky collapsing into a torrent of rain and hear the wind descend into howls of rage, there’s also the lingering fear that the next flash of lightning might mean pain, or even death.

But Atsumu’s eyes are clear pools of light, and she can only see hope reflected within it. She wonders if it mirrors the hope in her heart too.

So she says yes, and catches his smile in her hands.

They hold a small wedding at the Miya family shrine with their respective families as quickly as they can before the swell of her belly is unable to be hidden by the folds of her shiro-muku, the traditional white of her kimono a stark contrast against the black and gold of Atsumu’s montsuki. Her face is hidden under the weight of her headdress and her hands tremble as she clasps her kaiken, a blade her father forged himself, and her mother’s bamboo fan to her belt. She does not breathe until she and Atsumu take their third sip of sake from the nuptial cup.

Osamu is obviously appointed as the best man, and after the ceremony is over, he slaps Atsumu on the back before pressing a careful kiss to her cheek. ‘You’ve downgraded from being my accountant to my sister’, he tells her, and she has to hide her teary laugh behind her hands. But her heart is full and she throws her arms around his neck until Atsumu clears his throat playfully and she pulls away to greet her family.

‘Take care of her’, her father says, the threat in his and her brothers’ eyes amplified by their wedding gift to her of their sharpest knives. Atsumu meets their gaze evenly and laughs, unfazed.

‘I will’, he says, and he kisses her with his promise still on his lips.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #haikyuu writing #hq writing #haikyuucreations #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #miya atsumu #miya osamu #miya atsumu x reader #miya twins #miya atsumu x y/n #atsumu x reader #atsumu scenarios #inarizaki

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theoutsidelandhere · 4 years ago

Text

Of Flour and All Things Unseen - Baker!Din AU

warnings: some angst (mentions of parental death)

pairings: none! Just Din Djarin and his journey into becoming a baker.

Summary: A short history of how a family business comes back to life when the mystery baker becomes the new owner.

Word Count: 1k (My brain went overboard lol this was only supposed to be a headcanon)

A/N: Hello everyone! I haven’t written anything like this in such a long time, but this little piece was inspired by @dindjarindiaries one-shot called Remedy, which I’ll link here (aka I’m always nervous to post what I write, but Baker!Din has been in my mind nonstop, so I ended up writing a little more than I usually do. I hope you enjoy! <3)

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No one has ever seen the man responsible for the long lines that reach the other street every morning.

The only thing they know is that the pastries are the best in town, and the bread is baked fresh every day. It’s hard to miss the rushing businessmen with obnoxious briefcases pausing as they smell the waft of a new batch escaping from the front door. A tiny slice of goodness. That’s exactly what Din Djarin wanted to bring.

He’d stay hidden, way in the depths of the kitchen where he was safe. Here, no one would question why he chose to bake or how he inherited the family business. No, here he was able to remember his late mother as he perfected the art of a mango cake, her specialty. The bold color of the fruit always brought him back to the sunshine his parents would bring, every time they walked through their kitchen door. The space might have been too small for some, but for Din, his parents’ sweet humming as they took turns turning the oven dial and painting the whole room with flour was enough.

But reminiscing can only last so long, he tries to remind himself. Shaking off his thoughts, he goes back to his regular orders of bread. As he peeks through the bakery, he recalls the days when he didn’t know anything about crafting the perfect loaf.

He was ten when the Lyre family took him in. They taught him everything he needed to know about baking. With every fold of the dough, Din tried to bury the feeling of grief from losing the brightest light that ever shined in his life. While he was incredibly grateful for this family, a family that took him in, trusted him with secret family recipes, and provided a continuous promise of hope, nothing would ever erase the abundant love he had for his parents.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

The bakery has been there for hundreds of years, and as the success grew, so did the tension in the Lyre family. There seemed to be a never ending fight for who would be next in line for ownership. What started as a humble beginning, was shaping up to be a vile demise. While the family feud erupted, the customers stopped coming back. Why should they? The Lyre’s seemed more focused on yelling at each other than the quality of what once was a town favorite. As such, the flavor and love soon evaporated from all the baked goods.

Yet it was Din’s quiet concentration and appreciation for the craft that landed him the coveted title of “Owner.” He wasn’t in the business to fight anyway. It was the first sale of his beloved mango cake that helped the bakery take off once again. This was not an easy decision to make. Din had kept this recipe deep in his heart for years. Retrieving it for all to consume was terrifying, a violation of privacy that felt uncalled for.

Then a child stepped through the bakery. He must not have been older than five. With heaving breaths, he said that a bad man had been trying to find him. Din stood frozen for a few seconds before beckoning the child to come with him to the kitchen. Stepping back out, he looked around to see if the “bad man” was anywhere close. Seeing no one, he rushes to the back where the child hid in the corner.

“What’s...your name?” He asks, unsure of how to approach the tiny human. Din was never around that many children, even when he himself was a child.

No response. A weary look from the child appeared as he tried to figure out if the man in front of him was trustworthy.

Din refused to push the child into answers, but wanted to make sure if he was alright.

“Do you want something to eat?” A hesitant nod from the little boy comes. Din hands him one of the slices of bread that he finished baking an hour ago. A small sigh of relief comes from Din as the boy slowly starts to bite into the bread. This was the first time he thought of sharing his treasured mango cake with anyone else. He cherished every time he was able to bite into the mango cake his mother made. Life was never perfect, but the short moments where he could indulge in a sweet treat was when he felt comforted and loved.

From then on, Din internally vowed to not only protect this child, but also promised to create something good for others to have. The world wasn’t always kind, but the bakery could be a place of solace, even for a short while.

No one had ever tasted anything like it before. The mango cake soon brought many people to the bakery. This small bakery at the end of the street was now filled with chatter. Everything from small talk of weather, to the shared family experiences. By word of mouth, many began to learn of the bakery’s comeback. People filed out the door to get the feeling of home and to try their hand into figuring out who exactly was baking this cake. They would try to squint or peek their heads through the door leading to the kitchen, but he was never to be found.

Din made sure to keep himself to the side of the door, away from the strangers outside. While his heart was full from hearing the praises of his mother’s recipe, he knew that the family bakery had a reputation that was...rocky, but well known. The last thing he wanted was to be caught in the next day’s gossip, or for people to find out who he was to the Lyre family. Din believed that he had to let the pastries, the cake, and the bread speak to the customers, not him. There was a story in between every bite, and he would let the baked goods tell it.

Tags: @dinthisisthe-wayson @another-swgal @awheeler27 @sana-katarn

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brandywine-tomatoes · 3 years ago

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Hope was a Dangerous Game

Masterlist

Another oc fic

Characters: male!oc/Crosshair, the Batch

Prompt/Inspo: @keo-the-raptor was angsting with her oc and that gave me ideas

TW: depression, depressing thoughts, angst to loads of fluff, strong language

Word count: 1839

QUICK NOTE: Sinleo is my immortal cape maker/tailor.

Cross and him met on a peace treaty voyage with all the Naboo and Pantoran delegations since Sinleo is a long-time friend of the Naboo throne and besties with Riyo Chuchi. The Batch was stationed as part of the security detail.

They saw each other on and off over the years until Sinleo was encouraged to stay on the Havoc with Cross and the Batch (obvi without the Republic's knowledge).

Sinleo trudged through the busy streets of Coruscant, pushing and shoving his way through the gloomy crowd as everyone tried to get out of the pouring rain. He didn’t mind the intense downpour, it felt like a layer of grief was sliding down his shoulders, creating a thick sludge of sorrow being tugged along by his cheap boots.

He never wore his custom or expensive stuff anymore, not after the Empire took his trooper. He felt he lost a piece of himself, and without that piece, nothing else could fit. He had to pack away everything about himself into a mouldy storage locker. Crosshair had made his way into every part of him. He couldn’t think or look at those pieces without diving deeper into despair and isolation.

Force, he missed him. It hurt to even think sometimes. Everything everywhere reminded him that he wasn’t really in the galaxy, just a look-alike that tried to kill everyone close. Just a shell of something that used to love Sinleo. A shell of something that gave Sinleo something he never thought he’d get: Purpose. Hope. A future.

Hope was a dangerous game.

Sinleo dragged himself into the elevator, clicking the highest level and waited for the doors to slide open.

He tossed the drenched black windbreaker on the single wooden chair beside the door and made a beeline towards the mattress in the middle of the supposed living room. The ceiling fan was on full blast against the high ceilings, a sharp and cool wind blowing the dark greasy hair from his forehead. Cross used to do that. He used to hold Sinleo like he was his whole fucking world and brush the hair from his face.

He had to stop. Crosshair was gone. He wasn’t getting him back. Ever.

He’d survived for hundreds of years, he could survive hundreds more. But living them?

His depressing train of thought was cut off as an irritating beeping echoed off the bare walls from the windbreaker. Groaning, he stood and shuffled to the chair, taking out the comm device and flipping on the speaker and microphone.

“What?” He growled.

“You’ll want to hear this.”

“Hunter, I already told you, stop calling me.”

“Trust me, you’ll want to hear this.”

Sinleo paused and took a deep breath, defeated. “What do you want, bandana?”

“Are you sitting? You need to sit for this,” Hunter’s voice was growing more irritating by the second. Sinleo didn’t know if it was from pure annoyance of his past knocking on his comm device or how Hunter’s voice was filling with joy. Who the fuck could be joyful during this fucking time?

Sinleo pulled the wooden chair forward and sat. “I’m sitting.”

“Miss me, Sin?”

His heart jumped for a fraction of a second.

“Hunter,” he stood up in a rage. “I can’t fucking believe you. This is sadistic level shit. You really think I’m not in enough fucking pain without him? You think-”

“Alright alright, enough,” Hunter tuned back in. “Pack a bag for the next shuttle, I know you have senator-level security passes. Get to Alderaan’s National Spaceport, strip 3, by tonight. Private comm channels are unreliable for this kind of conversation.”

“Who the hell do take me for? A fucking fool? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Sinleo. Please. For Cross. If you won’t believe it over comms, come see him yourself.”

Sinleo scoffed and practically snapped the comm device in half turning it off. The building in his eyes throughout the conversation spilt over. He let out a sob and crumbled to the ground. He shoved the palms of his hands into his eyes to try and stop the streaming of tears, only seeing a burst of crumbling light and a searing pain start to blossom.

He sat with his knees to the ground and let out sob after sob, grief-stricken memories of Crosshair giving one of his rare smiles or holding Sinleo’s face when everyone else was asleep making him sob even more. His muscles ached, his head pounded, he felt drained and empty and nowhere near better than before that conversation.

His heart leaped out of his chest when he heard his voice. It’d been almost a year since the love of his life used the nickname he gave him. His little sin.

He almost asked if it was really him, almost let himself believe he was alive and cut out of the puppet strings.

For just a second, he imagined seeing him again as Crosshair and not some Imperial mutt. His Crosshair. Hugging his Crosshair for hours so he wouldn’t slip away so easily again. Taking him to raid the upper-class district and leaving it in a flaming heap again like the first time they visited.

But then the ceiling fan pushed his hair from his forehead. The rainwater from the windbreaker was seeping through his clothes. His exhaustion from the last 10 months whittled its way back in.

He was gone.

But maybe he should pay his respects to his brothers. They were family after all. Maybe seeing them again, seeing the ship where him and Cross had their first kiss would offer a little closure. Offer a little piece of him back that Crosshair took. If he could get a piece of who he was, he might finally start working towards making someone new, someone whole again.

He made a few calls to senators and off-world shuttle security before he packed the few simple clothes he had and other necessities into a light duffle bag. The couple hours he had before the Coruscant guard came to escort him he curled up on the bare mattress and stared out the floor to ceiling windows numbly. He wouldn’t be able to sleep for a while, not after a breakdown like that, after what it uncovered.

Boy, would he pummel Hunter when he got there.

Sinleo fiddled nervously with the handle of the duffle bag on his lap as the shuttle gracefully touched down on the strip. The other passengers started undoing their safety harnesses as Sinleo sat there, paralyzed. He hadn’t thought of what he was doing. He only acted; he didn’t think of what would happen. What was waiting for him on strip 3? On that darkened and unused strip he passed seconds ago? Did his brothers fall to the Empire too? Was this all a trap for the Empire to finally nail him in jail for the shit he pulled in the past?

“Sir, we’ve landed,” a red-dressed bellhop gestured to the exit.

Sinleo fumbled with the safety harness and scurried towards the exit with the duffle in hand, accidentally ignoring the bellhop and descended the stairs. The passengers all left separate ways seemingly all over the tarmac towards groups of people or vehicles already waiting.

He walked in the direction of strip 3, pulling the same black windbreaker closer to him as a wind chill swept through the spaceport, ruffling his hair and lightly pushed him to the side. The tinted windows of the grand and beautifully historic spaceport building glistened softly against the pure black sky with Coruscant and Corellia on the other side of his view. The air was cleaner on Alderaan, it refreshed your lungs and brought a clear mind instead of the fogging effect the planet-wide city had.

As he neared the darkened strip 3, he spotted a group of moving figures, most likely the Bad Batch, and grimaced. This was a mistake; this was all a mistake. He should just turn back, save himself the embarrassing tears of seeing the crew again. He stopped dead in his tracks and seriously debating just getting a hotel and going back in the morning.

But one of the figures started walking towards him and he knew there was no going back. He couldn’t run away from them when they were right there.

He started his slow pace again, his heart beating quicker. That wasn’t one of the surviving Batch members. This was someone new. Or someone old.

“Sin!”

He stopped again, a heavy pressure resting on his chest. Oh my fucking god.

He dropped the duffle and started sprinting. “CROSS!”

His Cross kept the same pace as Sinleo closed the gap, already sobbing before they embraced. Crosshair spun Sinleo in a circle, a sputtering of a sob and a laugh escaping his choked-up throat. This wasn’t happening.

Sinleo buried his face in the crook of Cross’s neck, his arms impossibly tight around his waist as sobs racked his body.

It shredded the sniper’s heart that his absence had crumbled his love. But he was finally there with him. It wasn’t some dream in the back of his mind. It wasn’t some daydream that CT-9904 didn’t know how to explain. He was fucking there. This was all real. This was all he ever wanted.

A few tears leaked into Sinleo’s matted hair as Crosshair returned the death grip, whispering that he was there, and he wasn’t leaving. They wouldn’t let each other go again, not ever again. This was it. They were it. They were done with being alone, they were going to stay together for as long as they had. Sinleo muttered a few words before Cross lifted his head gently from his shoulder.

“Didn’t catch that, Sin.”

That sent another sob escaping Sinleo’s lips. They returned to their bone-crushing embrace for a few more moments before Sinleo lifted his head to try again at forming words.

Words failed him for a second as he finally got a look at the love of his entire life. “Don’t- don’t leave me again,” his voice came out desperate and hoarse.

Cross ran his thumbs over his cheeks. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Sinleo closed the space, desperate to make up for their lost 10 months. Sinleo’s soft lips against his finally convinced him that it was over. No chip, no orders to follow, no one to report to. There was only him and his Sin, his first and last of everything in the middle of an airstrip, trying to convey how much they needed each other through a sloppy and suffocating kiss. Cross cupped his face and kissed back with everything he had, everything he could give.

They separated and gasped for air softly, foreheads leaning against one another as neither of them wanted to open their eyes. They stayed, Crosshair holding Sinleo and Sinleo’s arms around his waist, keeping them together.

The sniper was the first to flutter open his eyes, feeling heart palpations at the sight of a tired but peaceful Sin.

He smirked. “This is getting sappy.”

Sinleo snapped his eyes open and tried to glare at him. “We can be sappy.”

“Hell naw, we aren’t sappy,” he pulled away, sliding an arm around his shoulders.

Sinleo pecked his lips. “We are now.”

“Missed you.”

“Missed you too.”

“Oh no, we’re sappy now.”

Sinleo kept his arm around Cross’s waist, finally ready to approach the group far away at the edge of the tarmac. “I can live with that.”

A/N: I stayed up unit 5 in the morning writing this. It was an emotional ROLLERCOASTER, but I got it done in one day and I'm pretty happy with it!

please go easy on the critisism, this was the first time i wrote 2 characters sharing a kiss

If you want more of/about Sinleo or any other oc, just let me know! I love sharing my bbs!

#the bad batch #bad batch #tbb #the clone wars #tcw #clone wars #star wars #sw #original character #oc #crosshair #hunter #echo #tech #wrecker #omega #star wars rebels #sw rebels

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verryberriess · 4 years ago

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Accept Me As Your Valentine’s | Rowaelin Oneshot

This is the first fanfiction I’ve ever written!! Thanks to my bestie @maastrash for the encouragement and helping me out :D I hope you guys like it!

Rating: T, mild swearing

Summary: February 14 was the one official day at Greenbriar where an individual could offer chocolates, flowers, or small gifts to someone they admire or want to express pure feelings towards. And Aelin had spent all night making chocolates for a certain someone...

Note: There is potential for the side stories to be written out ... let me know what you think!

February 14. Valentine’s Day. A tradition celebrated around the world where gifts and flowers are exchanged between lovers in order to express a physical act of love. Gifts didn’t have to necessarily be exchanged between lovers, however. Many, in fact, are exchanged between close friends and offered to those whom someone admires.

At Greenbriar High School, Valentine’s Day had become a popular school event over the years. February 14 was the one official day at Greenbriar where an individual could offer chocolates, flowers, or small gifts to someone they admire or want to express pure feelings towards. It was the ultimate event of courage for girls and guys of all classes to attempt a confession towards the person they admired from afar. The hope of having one’s feelings returned often came at the expense of high-end chocolate carefully wrapped in gold foil imported from Switzerland and Belgium or opulent custom-designed pastries from French patisseries.

Rowan Whitethorn, Aedion Ashyrver, and Fenrys Moonbeam were some particular individuals whom many girls had intended to present their chocolates to on this special day, for the reason that these men were the most eligible bachelors of Greenbriar High.

School legend claimed that a couple years ago, alumni Lorcan Salvaterre, infamous for his ruthless and dark manner, had actually started dating someone after she had presented chocolates to him on this particular day. As a result, most people reasoned that if the notorious Lorcan could be swayed by some certain chocolates on Valentine’s Day, there was certainly some charm in the event that had provoked such a miracle.

Amidst the bustling student body, Aelin Galathynius stood in front of her locker and stared down at what she clutched in her hands. A tiny, golden, heart-shaped box she had purchased from the local art store for her homemade chocolates. She had even put in the effort to tie a little bow across the box to complete the aesthetic. It had taken her all night to prepare her chocolates. Although she was certainly talented in consuming large quantities of the physical manifestations of cocoa heaven, they were absolutely a pain to produce. Cooking was not in her favor.

She remembered last night’s events where she burned her first batch of cream and chocolate in the bowl, and in her second attempt, somehow the chocolate had managed to never melt. She stirred for one whole hour for the mixture to turn liquidy as the recipe called; it was apparent that after she had Googled the approximate time it took for chocolate to melt under this process, she knew she had to start over again. Hence, third time's a charm when she followed an easier recipe.

In the end, she had successfully made chocolates-- or well-- it was as chocolate as chocolate could be. Her chocolate turned out lumpy, with unusual grooves and warts sticking out in various directions. Perhaps that was due to the almond shavings she had added for an artistic touch? Were truffles supposed to carry such a discoloring? She compared her outcome to the one in the article. Ehh.

Aelin took a bite out of one of the six chocolates that had survived her horrific cooking venture. “Hmm,” she mulled over its unusual taste. It was definitely edible. But did it taste like the usual chocolatey decadence she was so accustomed to? Big no. Even if it was chocolate. Even if she was the ultimate chocolate connoisseur who would probably consume any form of chocolate in the world. What she had concocted was a big mistake.

Aelin couldn’t afford to waste any more heavy cream. The jar of cocoa powder that she had gotten earlier that day was also almost out. And it wasn’t like the general store near her operated 24/7. Carefully assembling the remaining five chocolates in the box she had acquired on sale just for tomorrow’s occasion, she wrapped a golden ribbon across and pulled the ends tight.

She couldn’t reason how so many of her fellow classmates had thousands of dollars to spend on chocolates that carried high risk of being rejected. Actually, maybe that was the best form of action anyways, since her truffles didn’t exactly turn out how chocolates were supposed to. But, in reality, this was all Aelin could afford. She lived in the most underprivileged neighborhood in the area and rode on the bus for an hour to get to school everyday. Some days after school, she worked a part-time job to pay for her rent. She was sincerely thankful for being able to attend Greenbriar High under a full scholarship despite the air being polluted by rich snobs and bigots. Nevertheless, Aelin was most thankful for the best friend she’s ever made in her life there. These chocolates were for him, after all.

He better be thankful. Aelin was on the verge of hand-writing letters to thank each chocolate company in the country for their honorable service. She had a newfound appreciation for the treat.

Aelin peered out of her locker to look over her shoulder at an onslaught of girls and boys. The crowd was immense. She hadn’t realized the extent of the school event’s popularity until now. She witnessed some groups exchange treats with each other and heard others talking animatedly about who they would offer theirs to. But the majority of the crowd was focused around a certain group that everyone had aspired to give their chocolates to. Rowan, Fenrys, and Aedion walked as a group through the hall, conversing with each other, stopping intermittently to interact with brave souls who tried to give them chocolates. Fenrys looked like a balancing act. He carried stacks upon stacks of chocolates and sweets within his arms. The pile seemed to grow with each passing second. Aelin feared for all of the treats that would scatter across the school if he ever toppled over… she just hoped she would get there in time to maybe steal some for herself? Aedion carried a few chocolates himself, but most of them were probably hidden inside of his bag, since it was looking extra stuffed today.

She watched as a girl, holding luxury chocolate bars Aelin would have died to get her hands on, approach a notable tall, silver-haired, pine-green eyed individual. He only carried his backpack on his right shoulder-- any sweets he may have received were out of sight. The girl blushed, determinedly held out the chocolates, and shyly insisted, “Rowan, please accept these chocolates!”

Rowan looked upon the unassuming girl and the chocolates with disinterest and replied, “... No.”

With encouragement from her friends to try again, the girl piped up assuredly, “If you could just-”

Rowan cut her off, “I’m sorry, but I can’t accept these.”

The crowd around Rowan and the girl didn’t seem to decrease even with Rowan’s apt rejection. In fact, it only seemed to get bigger. Of course Rowan would reject the chocolates though, reasoned Aelin. He was never big on sweets. But maybe he would accept hers-

Before Aelin could reconsider, she saw Rowan reject yet another person across the hall. This time, he rejected a guy who had wanted to thank Rowan for his help from some extracurricular activity.

No. This is stupid, thought Aelin. If he didn’t accept someone’s chocolates meant to thank him for his help, what were the odds of Rowan accepting hers? They weren’t that close, were they? She had wanted to thank him for being a good friend to her. He was one of her closest friends at school. He had introduced her to the rest of his group and allowed her to meet Lysandra and Fenrys. Why did she feel like she needed a better reason to present him her chocolates?

Aelin shoved her chocolates in her locker and collected her books for the school day.

When she walked into Second period, she scrambled to her seat and shrunk into her chair and focused on a peculiar spot on her desk. It was not long after until Rowan walked in and made eye contact with her. Immediately, his resting bitch face morphed into a grin, “Hey, Fireheart!” Rowan made his way towards Aelin’s seat.

Aelin looked up from the all-too interesting black dust speck and carefully crafted her response, smiling smugly, “Buzzard! I’m surprised you’re not carrying a mountain of chocolates with you.”

Rowan smirked, “Well, I have my own agenda to account for today.” Rowan peered at Aelin expectantly. Aelin only stared back. Was he trying to communicate telepathically with her somehow? She would have to remind him again that it wouldn’t work. “But I’m also wondering-- “

Before Rowan could finish, their teacher walked in and silenced the room with her eerie screeching throughout the class. Rowan, about to quickly tell Aelin something, hastily turned back around towards the board at the lecturing tone of their teacher, who reminded him that class had already started.

Aelin was confused. But she figured he would tell her later. They sat at lunch together with the rest of their friends anyway. During the entirety of the class, Aelin couldn’t help but wonder what he was going to ask her. He looked at her as if he was expecting something, but he also looked hesitant to ask her about whatever he wanted to ask. His idiotic face was too much for her to think about right now. What did he expect from her? Chocolates? No, she was still on the brink of destroying those utter atrocities. She had yet to decide whether she still wanted to give them to him, but considering the way he acted towards everyone else who tried to give him something, she was leaning to not.

Towards the end of class, Aelin packed up her bag and readied her materials for her next class. Next period she had to turn in a paper before class started. Otherwise, it would be considered late.

When the bell rang signaled for Passing period, Rowan turned back around in his seat to approach Aelin again, but she remarked, “I’ll see you at lunch! I have a paper to turn in!” and ran out of the classroom.

At lunch, she found the usual table already occupied by her friends who were already discussing intensely about the events of their day so far. It was apparent that everyone already had dozens of boxes of treats set out before them. She sat down next to Lysandra and inquired about her friends’ large collections, “How do you guys already have so many chocolates? It’s literally lunch and we only sat through three periods of the day so far,” Aelin was seriously concerned with the popularity of her own friends. With their collection alone, they could feed a whole nation. The total costs of all of the gifts themselves could probably amount to the entire GDP of England or something.

“Well, Aelin, it’s all because of my infinitesimal charm. It’s also a little process I like to call, ‘accept and accept’” replied Fenrys jokingly.

“No, I’m specifically wondering why YOU, of all people, have been offered chocolate!” Aelin grinned back. She loved joking with Fenrys. But now she wondered why she ended up empty handed. No one had offered her anything yet. Maybe she had been too much of an oddball at school to make any sort of formidable impression among her peers. Was she too unapproachable? She watched the exchange between Lysandra and Aedion. She guessed that eighty percent of the gifts that Lysandra received were from Aedion. It would have been nice to receive something too…

Next, she observed Rowan. He had resigned from any conversation to focus all of his concentration on his food to ignore Fenrys, who kept berating him with a small box of special hazelnut chocolates Fenrys had gotten from Russia. That especially looked appetizing. “Come on, Rowan! I ordered these a few days ago just for you! They taste just like Nutella!”

Rowan grumbled something incoherent and concentrated harder onto his food.

Fenrys eyebrows furrowed. He turned away from Rowan to face Aelin. An idea must have hit him because soon his disappointed expression morphed into that of a devious one. Aelin waited to brace herself for whatever rambunctious idea that Fenrys had apparently come up with. “So Aelin, would you mind-”

The movement was so fast, the whole table fell silent at the abrupt speed that had been displayed. Rowan had swiped the hazelnut chocolates from Fenrys, tucked them besides his lunch, and resumed eating. Aelin was shocked about what had just happened. Lysandra and Aedion, who had paused their conversation, both resumed their exchange. Their talking had seemed to lower even more so in volume, almost to that of whispers, discussing whatever between themselves that had to be kept a secret from all of them. Expressions coy, they traded little smiles and light touches between each other. Fenrys’ only response to Rowan’s reaction was a gleeful smile of victory. He continued to badger Rowan as they both ate.

Aelin scrutinized the little box of chocolates that Rowan had kept next to his lunch container. Damn, she really wanted them. She was so ready to accept them from Fenrys if Rowan hadn’t stolen them away. As if he sensed her watching his chocolates, he gracefully gathered them closer towards himself, out of her reach. Aelin huffed in resignation. There was no way she could attempt to steal the treats now.

While everyone had an endless supply of chocolates, where were hers? She was the ultimate chocolate connoisseur. She was the most qualified to be receiving chocolates. This kind of school event was made for her! She should have been receiving all sorts of things now. She knew she wasn’t exactly the nicest person in the school, nor a typical rich kid that could lure others to be her friend, but she wasn’t a fiend! Consequently, her own source of chocolates from this day were the chocolates that she had made herself… and while those things were chocolate, under her jurisdiction, they were not qualified to be considered as such. To top it all off, she hadn’t even made those chocolates for herself.

She looked out at the other tables. A group of girls cheered as they exchanged little boxes with bows tied atop. She saw another guy blush and shyly present a heart-shaped box to another girl. Groups mingled and high fived each other as they handed out treats to each other. Aelin’s felt an unpleasant tug in her chest as she observed students carry out the gift-giving event.

But as Aelin turned her attention back to her own table, she had realized that her friends had exchanged chocolates without her. She watched Fenrys play Jenga out of the boxes that he received and Lysandra and Aedion in their own world. Rowan only kept Fenrys’ chocolate, but that was because he had turned down all of the other gifts throughout the day. She looked at the collection of chocolates that Lysandra and Aedion scattered around them on the table and zeroed in on two tiny red-wrapped boxes of hazelnut chocolates that have been imported from Russia.

Aelin frowned. Suddenly those hazelnut chocolates didn’t look so appetizing anymore. Nor any of the other chocolates that she had seen exchanged today. She couldn’t control the feeling of her lips starting to tremble or the sudden deep tugging in her chest that felt like a million bricks had settled atop her chest. She tentatively rose from her seat at the table. Her long bangs shielded her misted eyes from the group, fortunately covering her face as she remarked shakily, “I just remembered I had an assignment due next period. I’ll see you guys later.”

As Aelin stood up, about to leave, Rowan called, “Wait, Aelin, you’ve barely touched your food.”

Aedion chimed in, “Yeah, you should eat at least a little bit, Aelin. We still have three more periods to go.”

It was true. Aelin had just gotten back from class and knew that she’d only sat for a few minutes. She had barely touched her lunch. But the gnawing in her gut diminished her usually ravenous appetite. Aelin pulled on a smile. It was strange how exhausting it felt to force her lips to tug in a motion that was so effortless and natural to execute only moments before. She couldn’t see the group’s reaction, but responded, “I’m suddenly just not hungry anymore.” She pivoted herself around so as to not face the group and walked out of the cafeteria in haste.

It was bad enough that sometimes she had felt like an outsider at her own school. But the feeling only solidified today as she truly realized the reality of her position. She interacted and got along with her classmates well and participated in class, and although she was not as close to her peers she wanted to be, compared to herself and her usual group, it hit her that one of her classmates had passed out goodie bags of candy corn to everyone in the class but her. She didn’t realize it until the end of class when she asked her classmate why everyone held the same goodie bag. It didn’t bother her that much because she was eager to go to lunch… but now it was at the forefront of her mind. And now? She felt like an outsider to her own lunch group.

Her footsteps thudded through the hall. They sounded louder than usual, as if she were the only one walking through them. There were a few people loitering the hallway, yet they felt so far away. This small stretch of space that usually felt so narrow and crowded now felt like it could stretch for miles. All Aelin could hear right now were her footsteps. Everything else was muted. Her thoughts whirled, a simultaneous mess of gibberish and nothingness and everything at the same time. Her steps carried her to her locker, where she now beheld the little, golden, heart-shaped box. She didn’t have the heart to throw out the hours of work that she put into the little monstrosities, but…

Rowan had been offered chocolates that had probably cost more than her whole month’s rent. Fenrys’ were from Russia for fuck’s sake. If he had trouble accepting even his own friend’s presents, what were the odds of him accepting hers? It’s not like she was any different as a person compared to her friends. But even so, what did she have to offer? She was poor. She walked in rags and everyone else lept in riches. Aelin felt the tears that she fought so hard to suppress well up and stream down her face. If she could physically put a price on how much she felt she owed Rowan, the number would be in the thousands. Millions. What did crippled, deformed chocolates amount to compared to the things that these daughters and sons of millionaires could afford and buy without even batting an eye?

Rowan had given her so much. So, so much. Friendship. Laughter. Dessert... And something else she was so afraid to put into words. She knew it in her heart earlier when she began thinking of what to gift him. She knew what she had felt when she tried to make the chocolates over and over again. She knew what she was trying to convince away from herself when she stood at her locker this morning and watched Rowan reject gift after gift.

But she wouldn’t admit it now. Couldn’t. She was far too stubborn. She tightly gripped the box in her hands and closed her locker door. She gripped the box so hard the cheap cardboard repaid her in wrinkles and a large, thumb-sized dent. The box looked so worn. Its cover was dented and soiled with the scent of salt; the bow she so proudly tied together flopped, weighed down from its damp ends, saturated by her tears.

Aelin smuggled the box into her backpack and slid down the wall of lockers to settle on the floor.

-----

She avoided the group the rest of the day, but she often saw Rowan in the distance. During class, Aelin once looked out the window and saw Rowan casually standing a few meters away from her classroom. As if he sensed the instance she noticed his presence, he immediately walked in the opposite direction of her classroom. During Passing period, she would often see Rowan walk in her direction. But when she saw him nearing, she took a detour. She was successful in avoiding the others the whole day, but somehow it was as if Rowan was everywhere.

At break, she noticed that when she walked to her spot, Rowan was already there, so she walked away quickly. But when she went to another room, it was like he appeared out of nowhere. Today, to her dismay, it seemed that he was just always within her vicinity.

After school, she made up her mind. This would be the last time she would interact with any of them. This would serve as her final good bye, and a big “fuck you” to Rowan’s asshole rejections.

She walked outside of the school to the spot they usually meet up at to walk home together. As Aelin neared, she scowled at a line that had seemed to form. But a line for what? Her eyes traced the direction of the line to its head. Who would have thought. A line to present chocolates to Rowan Whitethorn. It seemed as though many people had acquired the same idea as she had. But now, the energy in the crowd that had gathered felt even more intense than that of this morning.

The line consisted of both girls and guys. They lined up one after another. A tall, athletic guy Aelin knew as Jasen presented a large box of Japanese candy and asserted, “Hey Rowan! The basketball team all pitched in to buy this for you. We really appreciate you for helping us in our championship game.” Rowan wasn’t officially on the team, but secretly subbed in the last quarter, he had ended up scoring the winning basket. “Hopefully we can play again sometime,” Jasen smiled.

Rowan replied lamely, “... I hate mushroom-shaped, matcha flavored konpeito.”

The group of guys that encouraged their friend to approach Rowan argued amongst themselves. “Why did you give him those? Did he seem like a mushroom-shaped, matcha-flavor konpeito type of guy to you?!”

A girl with brunette curls and sun-kissed skin came forward, “Rowan, I’ve always wanted to thank you for helping me last year. It really meant a lot to me, and I don’t want anything in return, but it would make me really happy if you could accept these…?”

Rowan inspected the chocolates and flowers she held out to him and examined the brunette’s face. The crowd was silent, eagerly waiting for his response. Will he accept them? He would actually be an asshole if he didnt, thought Aelin.

“Sorry, I don’t think I remember helping you, so I can’t accept these.”

The girl insisted, “It’s Lyria. You helped deliver flowers to the hospital with me to my parents last year.”

“Oh, well, Lyria, I’m sorry, but it’s just that I actually don’t remember you… so,” Rowan shifted uneasily.

“Buzzard,” Aelin cursed at Rowan’s bad memory. He was actually the worst.

The line increasingly reduced as he rejected person after person. No matter the reason, no matter how intensely they felt about him, Rowan rejected them. But also after each rejection, came an energy of rejuvenation as the next person somehow felt even more fired up to present their gift. The courage was astounding.

“Sorry-”

“Sorry, I-”

After what seemed like hours, the mile-long line had dwindled to nothing. Rowan had accepted absolutely no one’s gifts. But the crowd remained, eager to see who would bravely face him next. This event had in some way transitioned into a spirited competition of who could possibly get Rowan Whitethorn to accept their gift. This competition would forever be embedded in the yearbooks. The energy was wild. It was legendary. No one so far had accomplished this feat. Aelin could tell people had lost any sense of unease. No matter one’s status or wealth, everyone had been rejected just because. And by the time the line had dwindled down to twenty, not one had felt shame in approaching him, no less in offering him their gifts in fear of rejection.

Aelin looked around. It seemed that there was no one else who wanted to approach him. They were all defeated. They only waited for the next person to advance toward him. She sucked in her feelings and walked down towards him in an air of pridefulness. No matter, she was just going to do what she had to do and go about her life.

Although the path towards him was only a few feet, it seemed like she had walked for an endless number of miles. She had turned her attention towards the ground as she walked, so, so hesitant to take the next step. But her mind fought to keep her walking towards him. She needed to do this for him. She needed to do this for herself. It was like everything was muted again. The chatter surrounding them faded to a dull white noise and as she looked up towards his face-- as he commenced to close the distance from where he stood all those dozens of times students tried to propose to him. His pine green eyes met her turquoise blue. She couldn’t deny the sudden intensity in them, compared to the obvious disinterest that he had shown to others time and time beforehand. His mouth firm, but in awe as if struck by her presence. There it was, his usual, idiotic Buzzard face.

Now, they stood only a few inches apart. She glowered at him and he bored his eyes back into hers. They were so close Aelin could smell his scent of pine and snow. She didn’t know what to make of his reaction, because they had only just stared at each other, as if the first person to speak would shatter the electric energy that peaked in the atmosphere, as if the other person would explode into pieces just from their speech alone. Aelin was addicted to this energy whenever she was with him. When they were walking home together, when they hung out at each other’s houses, or when they had bought each other ice cream and devoured them on the flowery grass at the park. No, Aelin was mistaken. She could never say goodbye to Rowan. She could only ever welcome him back into her life, welcome back an even stronger relationship than they had initially formed.

But, when she finally chose to speak first, “Rowan, I-”

At the same time, Rowan uttered, “Fireheart, I’ve-”

Aelin’s cheeks noticeably burned. The realization of what she was doing finally had caught up to her. Her face burned even hotter as if she was branded by the 350°F heat of a thousand ovens baking chocolate chip cookies. As she looked at Rowan’s face, she couldn’t help but feel relieved at his instant blush as well. “You go first,” Aelin said.

At Aelin’s command, Rowan proceeded, “I’ve been waiting for you. Since this morning, I just-”

But Aelin was too impatient. She had steeled her mind from any sort of rejection. She primed herself and wanted to get it over with, so she took up the heart-shaped box she held in her hands and cut him off, “No!”

Rowan immediately stopped himself and looked at her, bewildered.

This was the first time Aelin would let herself acknowledge her feelings. At this realization, she had wanted to let him know. She wanted him to know her feelings. As she replayed her interactions with him for the past five months she’s known him in her mind throughout her classes today, she knew that she had to use today to finally get her feelings out. She would hurt afterwards, but at least he would know, because every little thought of hers had been crashing down on her lately. He was on her mind everyday. She would hurt but Aelin knew she had the ability to slowly put herself back together again.

And so, Aelin took her stance.

She exhaled harshly,

And aggressively shoved the box against his broad chest.

The crowd around them was stunned at this sudden development.

“When I first came to Greenbriar, I never expected to form close ties with anyone. But it was you who had worn down the iron walls I had so carefully crafted up, because of your stupid, stupid idiocy, and I,” Aelin paused, “And today,” She took a deep breath, “Today I really wanted to get rid of you and Fenrys and Lysandra and Aedion from my stupid life because I-- I felt hurt.” Aelin closed her eyes to collect herself.

“Fireheart, I can-”

“No, I need to say this… Just, let me get this out… please.” Aelin regained her composure and started again, “When I thought about cutting ties with you guys, I recounted all of the memories we made together in these five months alone. I have never felt so happy in my life before I came here, and I realized it was because of everyone. And then I remembered those times you picked me up in the middle of the night and took me to this beautiful, beautiful spot to admire the stars. I recounted how I knew my heart began to mend so slowly; it was so slow, but it was healing, and I knew it was only because I was with you. So I realized I could never say goodbye. Not ever. ”

“So,” She picked a crease on Rowan’s shirt to focus on, looked up into his eyes, which crinkled back immediately in response, and shouted at him, “Rowan, I like you! Accept my chocolates!”

Rowan peered down at her. A visible blush painted his cheeks and the corner of his lips quirked upwards into a small smile. Rowan closed his large hands around Aelin’s small ones, gently taking up the marred heart-shaped box from her hands, and pulled Aelin into a tight embrace. He enclosed her within his arms and held her tight, as if he feared she would fly away from him. In response, Aelin instinctively leaned into the crook of his shoulder. Rowan bent down to bury himself within her hair. They fit together perfectly. He couldn’t get enough of her, and she, him.

Rowan pulled back from her hair to face Aelin, grinning, “Fireheart, of course I’ll accept your chocolates.” Without letting Aelin out of his embrace, Rowan tugged on the ribbon of the box and popped one of the chocolates in his mouth. “Mm, as expected from my Fireheart. They don’t taste like chocolates at all.”

Aelin glared back up at him as Rowan licked some of the remnants from his finger and continued, “But, Miss Chocolate Connoisseur, this is truly unacceptable.”

“What now?” Aelin sunk in deeper into his embrace.

Rowan reached into his pocket, “You’re simply not qualified to be the one giving out chocolates. It’s demeaning of you.” He pulls out a key and slips it into Aelin’s palm.

Aelin’s brows furrowed in confusion and inspected the key that Rowan placed in her hand, “Are you trying to ask me to move in with you or something? I think that’s a bit fast, don’t you think? You didn’t even kiss me yet.”

Rowan’s cheeks burned further, “It’s the key to the Godiva store in downtown. You can enter the store and take whatever you want, whenever.”

“Even when it’s closed?”

“Even when it’s closed. And on that note, I’m sorry for how you felt today… I know I hurt you, I was supposed to give you this key this morning,” Rowan looked away and whispered, “Yesterday, I... threatened the whole student body to not gift anything to you because,” Rowan spoke even more softly, so that only Aelin could hear, “Fireheart, you’re mine to spoil. I want you to know that I love you. Out of every single person in this school, out of every single person on this earth, and perhaps even the universe, you’re the only person I would accept chocolates from. The only person I’ll concede to, fall for, and let my heart be stolen from.”

Aelin looked at him and traced the swirls of his tattoo with her eyes, like she had done a thousand times already whenever they were together. She felt her heart swell. It was healed. Her heart had fully healed. Its tiny cracks mended and now the weight of her heart that initially only served to weigh her down made her feel so so light, she was afraid she would accidentally soar into the sky. So, Aelin stood on her tiptoes, reached up to grab at Rowan’s hair to pull him down at her level and muttered, “Territorial bastard,” before crashing her lips onto his to feel the electricity between them once more.

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440mxs-wife · 4 years ago

Text

The Hunter’s Princess Chapter 1: Another Dimension

Pairing: Dean x OFC Kira (eventual), Prince!Dean x OFC Lady Kira. Other Characters: Sam Winchester, Prince!Sam Winchester, Castiel, Rowena, Gabriel, King!John, Queen!Mary, Lucifer and assorted minor characters.

Chapter 1 Word Count: 3800

Warnings: Mention of parents’ death, a little angst, mostly fluff. Each chapter will have individual warnings as needed.

A/N: This is from some material that’s been rattling around in my head from another project that changed direction. Couldn’t let all this content go to waste, though, so here it is. It’s a work-in-progress, and I will try and update as regularly as I can. If you want to be tagged in this series, send me a message!

Thank you and happy reading!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was a Wednesday afternoon, and Kira Thomas was bored.

There hadn't been a hunt in over a month and she was starting to get cabin fever. Dean was giving the Impala a tune-up, while Sam was catching up on his serial-killer documentaries. Rowena had stopped by to research something in the Book of the Damned for some crazy spell she was working on. Castiel was off who-knew-where, doing who-knew-what, and Kira didn't want to bother him just because she was bored.

Gonna have to find something to do, she thought to herself.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kira Thomas had been in the hunting life with the Winchesters for as long as she could remember. Her parents, James and Ava, were among the top hunters for their generation, but semi-retired so that they could start a family.

Once Kira reached a certain age, her parents resumed their hunting career. That meant Kira was often left in the care of their friend, Bobby Singer, owner and operator of the local scrapyard. Bobby was a gruff old man and mumbled "idjits" a lot, but one look at Kira's sweet face and he melted.

Another hunter, John Winchester, also sometimes had to leave his sons, Sam and Dean, in Bobby's care. John was on the trail to hunt down the monster that killed his wife and the mother of his sons. This was how Dean met Kira.

At first, Dean didn't want to have anything to do with Kira. She was three years younger than he was, and only one year older than his brother, Sam. She followed Dean nearly everywhere, wanting to do whatever it was he was doing. If he was running errands for Bobby, Kira wanted to tag along.

When Dean started weapons training to prepare him for going on hunts, Kira was right there, training along with Dean. More than a few times, Bobby was able to give Dean a batch of grief because Kira had performed better than he did. Those were the days that Dean tended to give Kira the silent treatment. Until she figured out how to bake a pie, that is, then all was usually forgiven.

The day his dad took him and Sam out on the road with him, Dean was heartbroken. It meant that he wouldn't see Kira every day and didn't know when he would again. Kira didn't know it, but Dean's feelings for her had grown beyond that of her best friend. And Dean had no idea that Kira had begun to realize that her feelings for him had shifted to more-than-best-friend territory.

After Bobby died, Kira settled into her own room at the bunker, where she continued to hunt with Sam, Dean and now Castiel. There were so many times with Dean and Kira, the line between friendship and more was very nearly crossed. Drunken near-confessions of love, shameless but harmless flirting and lingering touches all had a way of building up. Everyone was telling the two of them to quit tiptoeing around each other and take the leap of faith, but neither of them could.

Until something happened to force the issue.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kira wandered the halls of the bunker, and for some reason stopped in front of Room #17. It was the room occupied by boxes of her parents' possessions. Boxes that were full of the things left to her after their house was sold. She had never had the time or courage to go through the boxes, but for some reason, today seemed like the day to do it. Kira took a deep breath, turned the knob on Room #17 and flipped on the lights.

Dean had finished giving the Impala a tune-up and had returned to the inside of the bunker to get himself cleaned up. He noticed how quiet it was and thought it was odd that Kira didn't have any music playing. Dean decided to shower up then go looking for Kira to see if she would want to watch a movie together. Maybe then he'd have the courage to tell her how he felt about her.

When he was properly cleaned up, Dean went from room to room, trying to find Kira. He didn't find her in her bedroom, the kitchen or the firing range. As he walked back to his room, he heard soft laughter and occasional sniffles coming from Room #17. Dean poked his head in and a smile broke out across his face.

"Hiya, sweetheart," he said softly, not wanting to startle Kira.

Kira hastily wiped the tears from her face and took a deep breath before looking up. "Hey, Dean. Everything okay?" she asked.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing. Whatcha got going on here, darlin'?" he inquired.

"Well, seems like everyone had something to do today, except me. I started wandering the halls and ended up here. It occurred to me that I haven't gone through any of these boxes of my parents' stuff since they died. Figured it was about time I did," Kira finished.

"There's no reason to push yourself if you're not emotionally up for it. But, if you're set on doing this, I'm here for you," Dean remarked.

"If you're all done with what you had going on, then yeah, I'd love the company," Kira replied with a smile.

Dean and Kira each opened a box and started looking through them. Most of what they found was paperwork, like Kira's old school report cards, along with some photographs. A couple of the boxes had some old lore books. Dean placed those boxes by the door and made a mental note to take them out to the library later.

They were down to the last two boxes, which contained items found in Kira's parents' bedroom. The really personal stuff, like her dad's cologne and her mom's hairbrush. Towards the bottom, Kira found her mom's jewelry box. She knew her mom had some heirloom jewelry, passed down from each generation of mothers to daughters.

One piece in particular caught her eye, and that was her mother's locket. She carefully drew it out of the box and dangled it in front of her face, then fastened it around her neck.

"Whatcha got there, sweetheart?" Dean asked.

"It's my mom's locket," she whispered. Kira popped open the locket to reveal her tiny kindergarten photo kept within. "I never asked what she kept inside, and she never told me. Just that it would be passed down to me when it was time," Kira recalled. For some reason, the locket started to glow in her hand. "Dean...." she said as she held it up for him to see.

"What's--I think you'd better put that back in the box, honey, nice and slow," Dean remarked with more calm in his voice than he currently felt.

"Dean! I can't take it off," Kira exclaimed as she started to phase in and out of sight.

From the library, Rowena's head shot up and her eyes glowed purple, a sign that she was in the presence of a powerful magic. "KIRA!!" Rowena shouted as she ran down the hall to Room #17. She got to the doorway in time to chant something in Latin, then Kira completely disappeared.

"KIRA!! NOOOOO!!" Dean roared as Rowena slumped to the floor.

Sam came rushing around the corner. "What the hell just happened?!?" he thundered then looked around the room. "Where's Kira?" he asked.

"I don't know!" Dean growled. "One minute, we're going through these boxes of her parents' stuff, and she came across her mom's jewelry box. The next minute, her mom's locket is glowing around her neck and she disappeared! Oh, but not before Rowena here cast some spell that I have no idea what it does," Dean retorted.

Rowena slowly rose up from the floor. "It was a tracking spell. Your wee Kira is fine....for the moment. Her mother's locket is a powerful charmed object that's been passed down from one generation to the next. It allows the wearer to move between dimensions, which is what each mother is supposed to tell her daughter. Unfortunately, Kira's mother died before she could explain," she shook her head sadly.

"So this whole multiverse is an actual thing? She can travel to other places, other timelines?" Sam asks.

"Look, who cares, we need to get Kira back. Rowena, do whatever hoodoo voodoo you have to do to get her back," Dean ordered. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket to call Cas to see if he could somehow help. He had no idea what it was going to take to get Kira back....assuming they even could do so.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kira tilted the mug as she held it under the tap and began to fill it with the frothy amber liquid. She looked around to see if she could figure out who the drink belonged to. Her eyes settled on the outstretched hand of a dark-haired man with squinty dark eyes. He paid for his beer, grumbled his thanks and returned to his table.

With no customers to serve for the moment, Kira reviewed her surroundings. It was a decent sized pub, with four taps for beer, a jug of wine for the more adventurous and a bottle of what looked like scotch. There were seven seats at the beautiful mahogany bar, with several tables on the main floor. Two men were occupied by a dart board in the corner, while four others were huddled around a billiards table.

A woman with curly strawberry blond hair came up to the bar carrying a tray with empty glasses. "Oy, Kira, those blokes in the corner were getting kind of fresh. One of them tried to back me into a corner and pinch me backside!" she exclaimed.

Kira looked at the two men playing darts. For some reason, one of them looked familiar, like she'd dealt with him before. "Don't worry, Ella, I'll take care of it," Kira promised, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Kira walked out from behind the bar and over to the men in the corner. Loudly clearing her throat, she demanded, "Excuse me, which one of you has been harassing Ella?"

The shorter of the two men sauntered over to me and stood so close that Kira could smell the number of drinks he'd had. "Why 'ello, there! Fancy a throw at the board, Love?" he held out the dart with one hand while he tried to pinch Kira's backside with the other.

Since he was so close, Kira grabbed his ear and pulled upward. "I believe I told you that if you misbehave again in my establishment, you would be kicked out. You tried to pinch Ella's and my backsides tonight. That counts as misbehaving, so you are leaving," Kira said as she dragged him towards the door. He tried to squirm out of her grasp, but she held tight and kept moving until she was able to throw him out of her pub.

His friend started to intervene, but Kira cut him off with a death look. "Unless you want a piece of this, I suggest you back off," she remarked ominously. He had the good sense to return his attention to the dart board. After throwing out the offending individual, Kira dusted off her hands on her apron and returned to her place behind the bar.

As the night wore on, Kira busied herself cleaning the glassware and wiping down the bar as customers started to filter out. Just before closing, the door burst open and a woman with long wavy red hair sauntered in. She was wearing a dark-colored cloak, a long pink dress and carried a large satchel. She eased up onto a barstool near where Kira was working and said, "Kira, dear, we need to talk."

"Rowena," Kira whispered.

"How in the name of holy water did you get here, Rowena?" she hissed.

"Just before you disappeared, I cast a tracking spell on you, dearie," she replied. "How much do you remember before you ended up here of all places?" she asked.

"Last thing I remember is Dean and I going through some boxes of my parents' stuff. I came across my mom's jewelry box and found this locket," Kira lifted it to show Rowena. "It started to glow, I called for Dean, then I ended up here," she finished.

"Well, let's start with the basics. What do we know about this place?" Rowena asked.

"From what I can tell, I'm the owner of this pub. I have three servers that work for me, Ella, Jolene and Miranda. Apparently I've kept my hunting skills, because I just threw out a drunk moron just by holding on to his ear. He was pinching backsides without permission," Kira remarked.

As Kira finished bringing Rowena up to date, two new customers walked in. One was taller than the other, with chestnut hair and hazel colored eyes. The other wasn't as tall, but not short by any means. He had dark blond-ish hair with bright green eyes.

"We're almost closed up, gentlemen, but you have time for one or two drinks before last call. What'll it be?" Kira asked.

"Well, what do you have for beer?" Mr. Green Eyes inquired.

"That depends. We have four of them on tap, and it depends on whether you like it light and crisp, or dark and chewy," Kira quipped.

"Hmm, interesting description, I like it," he continued. "Surprise me, as long as it's not the dark and chewy one," he grinned.

"Can do, and for you sir?" she asked Mr. Hazel Eyes.

"I'll go with scotch, neat," he replied.

"On the way, thank you sir," Kira acknowledged.

Kira pulled the tap to fill a mug of beer for Mr. Green Eyes, and when that was done, she poured the two fingers of scotch for Mr. Hazel Eyes. Kira placed the drinks in front of them, and they paid the tab for the drinks.

"Excuse me, Kira?" Kira looked and Rowena was trying to get her attention. "Might I have a word with you, dearie?" Rowena asked.

Kira walked down to where Rowena was sitting and asked her what she needed. "Those two men? They are not what they seem," she said mysteriously.

Kira looked at them and asked, "What are you talking about? Come on, Rowena, they're a couple of guys who stopped by for a drink late one night," she remarked.

"There's something familiar about them. Can't quite put my finger on it, but it's like they're men of great importance," Rowena insisted.

"Rowena, they look like two regular guys. A little family resemblance, brothers or cousins maybe, but normal, thirsty guys," Kira observed. Wait a minute....Nah, it couldn't be.

Kira was finishing up her chat with Rowena when she heard, "Oy, Lady Kira?" Jolene motioned with her eyes that Mr. Green Eyes needed a refill on his beer. Then she took the next round of drinks out to a table.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kira could see Mr. Green Eyes had nearly finished his beer. After he drained the last drop she took his mug, dropped it in the dishwater and picked up a fresh one. "Same selection?" Kira asked.

"Depends. Which one was that?" he asked with a grin.

"I started you off slow. That one was the light and crisp. I'll pour you the next one, and maybe I'll let you name it," she teased.

"You're on, Lady Kira," he smirked.

A sharp pain pierced Kira's head, momentarily clouding her vision. She grabbed the edge of the bar to keep her balance. Suddenly it dawned on her who these men were. It was Sam and Dean, but also....not them. Like Rowena said, something familiar about them, but they're more than just hunters in this dimension.

Kira poured his beer, but before handing it to him, she leaned in so her face was a few inches from his. "Listen. We keep the 'Lady' part of my name a secret. If everyone knew who I really was, I couldn't do half the things I do for these townfolk. I don't want recognition for any of what I do. I try to make their lives a little easier with some charity while letting them keep a bit of their pride," she finished. As Kira plunked the beer down on the bar, some of it sloshed over the edge, hopefully conveying her annoyance.

Rowena flagged Kira down again. "Now do you believe me, darlin'? I saw that look on your face. You know that's Sam and Dean, but they're different here than they are at home," she remarked.

"Yes, I'm with you now. They're still hunters, but that's not all they are. Like they have a more important 'day job'," Kira mused. "Although Dean in any dimension is still going to be a smart ass from time to time. Likewise, Sam is still the more cautious of the two," she replied with a soft laugh.

At that moment, the door opened and a man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes stepped in. "Sirs? I think it's time we set out for home," the man said.

"Just finishing up one for the road, Castiel," Dean replied. He drained the last of the beer from his mug and tapped on the glass to get Kira's attention. She looked up from the mug she was drying off and tilted her head. "Thank you for the hospitality this evening. Hope to see you again," he said as he winked at her.

"Safe travels, gentlemen. May your journey home be swift and free from incident," Kira remarked as they departed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kira looked around to see that the rest of her customers had also made their way home, or at least out of the pub. Jolene, Miranda and Ella picked up any remaining dishes and brought them up to the bar. While Kira washed the glassware, Miranda cleaned tables while Jolene swept the floor. Ella took care of the restocking duties, checking the taps and bringing up another bottle of scotch.

When all closing duties were done, everyone filed out the back door and went their separate ways, except Rowena stayed with Kira. They walked towards a large carriage house not far from the pub. Kira pushed open the heavy, decorative oak door and was immediately greeted by her house manager, Alfred. "Good evening, Lady Kira. I see you've brought a guest with you. Will she be staying long?" he asked.

"Good evening, Alfred. May I present Lady Rowena of the Scottish Highlands. She will be staying with us for an undetermined amount of time. Please see her to one of the open rooms upstairs, while I check in with the rest of the staff," Kira requested.

"Very well, Lady Kira," Alfred replied. To Rowena, he said, "Should you be in need of refreshment or anything else, please be sure to ring, madam."

"Thank you, dear. I am a wee bit tired, so if you could please show me to my room. Lady Kira, I shall see you in the morning," Rowena promised. Kira nodded in agreement then headed off towards the kitchen.

After a quick meeting with the staff, Kira learned that a morning supply run would be needed to replenish some of the items in the pantry. It was in need of coffee, flour, sugar, most of the basics, including fresh vegetables. Kira provided her head chef, Stefan, with the funds necessary to purchase what was needed at the town market in the morning.

The head housekeeper, Coraline, notified Kira that sheets had been freshly laundered. There also were plenty of clean towels in the wardrobe in each room. Once she got the full report, Kira trudged upstairs to her room. She didn't even bother to get dressed in her nightclothes. She pulled back the blankets and crawled beneath them. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell into a deep sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As the three men approached their destination, they were greeted by Collins, the head of the stables. He was a short, white-haired man who had worked for the family for many years. He remembered when the figures approaching on horseback had been mischievous young boys. He felt privileged to see them grow up into the fine young men they were today.

"You boys had better get on up to the main hall. Your parents have been looking for you, and they are not too pleased at how late you've been out," he gently chided.

The men dismounted from their horses, so that Collins and one of the other stablehands, George, could lead them to their stalls. As they walked from the stables to the main hall, they thought back to events of the past evening.

They were called in to take out a vampire nest in one of the eastern provinces. There were only supposed to be seven or eight vamps, which was certainly manageable for the three of them. Turns out there were more like twelve, which made things a little more difficult, but not impossible.

They approached the main hall where their parents were waiting. The green-eyed man walked up to his mother and knelt before her, touching the backs of her outstretched hands to his forehead. He repeated the same gesture with his father, as did the man with hazel eyes. The blue-eyed man knelt before them, but crossed his chest with his right arm, placing his right fist above his heart.

Their father looked sternly at his sons as he settled back in his seat. "Do you mind telling me what the crown princes of this land have been out doing at all hours of the night?" he asked. "Your mother was worried sick about you, pacing the floor until word arrived that you had come home!"

The hazel-eyed man spoke first. "Father, we received word of an attack in one of the eastern provinces. On our way back, we happened to stop by a pub owned by a woman named Kira. Had a couple of drinks, then Castiel told us it was time to go back, so we left," he explained.

"Is this true? Dean?" his father, King John asked.

"Yes, Father, Samuel is correct. The threat in the eastern province has been neutralized. For now, anyway. I had a couple of beers in the pub and was enjoying some nice conversation with the owner before Castiel pulled us away," he grumbled.

"If you had just told someone where you were going, I--we wouldn't have worried so much," explained his mother, Queen Mary. "Your father and I have a matter of great importance, which we would like to discuss with you. Castiel, would you please excuse us?" she asked.

Part 2 here!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags: @janicho88 @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @swiftlymoniquesblog @lyarr24 @miss-nerd95 @distefano123 @hobby27 @deanwanddamons @jessica-noel94 @wayward-mikaelson @jawritter @gabrielslittleangel @jensengirl83 @deangirl93 @ellewritesfix05 @supernatural-jackles

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #au!dean winchester x reader #au!dean winchester #spn #au supernatural #The Hunter's Princess series

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imjusthereforbatfam · 4 years ago

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Never-Ending Encore, ch3

Chapters: 1 2 3 4

Chapter Summary: Everyone has opinions, Eden is Lonely™, and grocery shopping late at night is the best way to fight off a panic attack in Gotham City. Nothing bad could possibly happen. Nothing at all.

Warning: anxiety/panic attacks, canon-typical violence (attempted assault), nonchalance towards death/dying, swearing, blood

—

Chapter 3:

Eden was an actress in a big city, not a baker on a farm. But she grew up in a bakery on a farm, and over the years she'd amassed a long laundry list of things to do on said farm that helped ease her nerves. She'd always loved that simple things like taking long walks, racing horses, bucking hay, cleaning stalls, shooting targets, blasting music, and putting in extra time at the bakery were enough to clear her head and calm her racing mind. But in Gotham, those simple things were incredibly hard to come by.

There were no fields or woods to walk through near her apartment. No horses to ride or bales of hay to chuck. No stalls or animals to tend to. There must've been a shooting range or two somewhere in the city, but she didn’t have the time, nor money, to go to one every time she felt frazzled. All she had here was music and baking, and even then she had to compromise.

With thin walls surrounding her, she couldn't belt her heart out or freely crank music high enough to shake her bones. She had neighbors to consider! (Even if they rarely seemed to consider her.) And baking only calmed her down when she could really get lost in the process. That was easy when you could, say, whip up ten loaves of bread for tomorrow's hungry customers. But Eden was only one person. She couldn't eat more than a single loaf of bread or helping of muffins or whathaveyou in a week without making herself sick, and only making one batch of something was rarely enough to settle her down.

She needed to figure out something to do in this city. And quick. Because otherwise, she was going to drown.

Ever since finding that note from Red Hood, Eden had been bubbling with the urge to tell someone about their encounter. She almost called home to tell Kit or one of the boys. Almost. But that would’ve meant telling them where she was, explaining how she got there, and admitting what had happened in the days before she left. She wasn’t ready for that talk yet. She was especially not ready for Mama to know anything. Granted, she probably already knew more than Eden wanted her to, but talking to someone else back home would only guarantee it.

Eden couldn't risk that. So she settled on telling her coworkers instead.

The morning after the whole fiasco, Eden waited for their first break to tell her tale. She got about two sentences in when—

“Hold up,” one of the girls, GG, said suddenly. “You met the Red Hood last night?”

Eden nodded. “Yeah, outside my apartment,” she said again. It sounded better than saying on her fire escape.

“Whoa. You’re lucky to be alive!”

“I... What?”

“Don’t be an idiot, G,” one of the guys, Aaron, said. “Everyone knows Red Hood stopped killing people ages ago.”

“You seriously believe that?” she scoffed. “The guy was a mob boss. Decapitating gang lords and collecting their heads.”

“What?” Eden yelped, glancing frantically between the two of them.

GG ignored her. “You really think he just, what, gave all that up? Give me a break.”

“He works with Batman,” Aaron said rolling his eyes. “He’s one of the good guys.”

“If he was really a ‘good guy’,” she said making air-quotes, “he wouldn’t be shooting people up every night.”

"He’s not killing anybody," he pshawed, flicking his wrist to shoo the notion away. “Honestly, I wish he was killing people still. Gotham was so much safer then."

GG shook her head at him, clearly annoyed. Eden blinked at them, mouth open wide with questions on her tongue, but the director called for everyone to wrap it up. GG grumbled something at Aaron as they walked back to the stage area, and he glared at her, but rehearsal continued without any more talk of Red Hood.

Eden probably should’ve gotten the hint there, that maybe she should keep the night's events to herself, but she couldn’t help herself. Now she really wanted to tell someone about what had happened. It was ridiculous enough before, but hearing the vigilante she'd given cookies to – who'd helped her through a panic attack – was actually an ex-killer? A former mob boss who collected people’s heads? It was a whole new level of bizarre! She could barely wrap her head around it!

The whole thing fogged her mind for the rest of the day. When everyone was finally dismissed, she nearly exploded as she and a few others left for the subway station.

"I met Red Hood last night!" she announced.

"Ooo, lucky!" one of the leads said. "He's so cool!"

"Yeah, he—"

"He's not cool, Marsha," another lead, Veronica, interrupted to chide her friend. "He's a killer."

"Was a killer," one of the guys said. "He's a good guy now. He doesn't do that anymore."

"Yeah, he does," someone else argued. "Just not in Gotham."

"That's not true."

"Is too! And he's a total badass for it!"

They went into a detailed retelling of one of Red Hood's 'badass' exploits, complete with sound effects for the guns and explosions. One of the guys told a different story, painting the things Red Hood did as inexcusable and unforgivable. Someone else mentioned their younger sister getting a Red Hood toy from a fast food joint not too long ago. Veronica called that despicable and said it sent kids the wrong message; someone else said she was being too judgemental.

Eden listened quietly to them all, captivated by the native Gothamites' nonchalance as they went back and forth on the violent, graphic things Red Hood had done and how they each felt about it. Eventually, one of the girls, Marsha, scoffed and began explaining in detail all the good that had come from the vigilante's not-so-good deeds. The conversation got more intense as the group started to debate more seriously on whether or not Red Hood's actions were truly justifiable. A few passersby even added their two cents while the group was waiting to cross the street. It nearly turned into a full-on brawl when they started arguing if he was, could be, or ever should be considered a hero after all he'd done.

Eden could only stand there, flabbergasted by it all. Somehow she felt even more like a fish out of water than the day she'd first arrived in Gotham. Which, considering she'd stepped off that bus with only half a plan, a backpack full of belongings, and the duffel bag filled with Frank's cash, was saying a lot.

She watched them argue as long as she could — until she absolutely had to leave to catch her train. The group showed no signs of stopping.

“Are you a good guy or a bad guy?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

Talk about an understatement! Red Hood must've known how contested he was. Everyone in Gotham seemed to have a strong opinion regarding him and that... that was bad. Continuing to bring him up was bound to get Eden into some kind of trouble sooner or later. More trouble. That was the last thing she needed right now. As disappointing as it was, she knew she had to drop the whole thing and just keep it to herself...

But it was such a ridiculous experience! She'd met a vigilante – an apparently very dangerous vigilante – randomly on her fire escape. He helped her fight off a panic attack! She made him laugh— laugh! She made Gotham's big, scary, shoot-y vigilante laugh! And she gave him cookies! And he liked them enough to write her a damn note! And he was an ex-MOB BOSS! It was impossible! It was hysterical! And it— it—

It didn't matter.

It didn't matter. She couldn't risk getting into any sort of hot water here. Maybe if she actually had someone to talk to in this city, somebody she could trust, it would be different. But she didn't have anybody like that. So it didn't matter. She was alone and had nobody; the story would die with her and that was that.

A dismal ache punctured her chest. Eden was alone. She... hadn't realized how true it was until just now. She had nobody in this city. Nobody to talk to, no one to confide in... Not even with something as small and ridiculous as what had happened with Red Hood...

For the first time in her life, Eden was truly and completely alone.

The glowing, blissful solitude she’d reveled in for months was gone. Painful, heart-wrenching loneliness swallowed it whole. She had nobody. She had nobody. And it was all her fault.

For over a week, the tiny notebook she’d stored everyone's numbers in taunted her. Every night she sat at her small kitchen table flipping through its pages. She debated over whether or not to save them into her new phone or, heaven forbid, call one of them. Until, finally, it was too much.

She would throw the notebook, and her phone, into the depths of her closet to stop the temptation. She would drown out her thoughts with painfully loud music. She would throw herself onto her mattress on the floor and scream into a pillow in an attempt to get everything out. Then, when she was too exhausted to do anything else, she would drift into a restless, dreamless sleep.

The next night, she would do the same thing over again. And again. It was an awful, vicious cycle — much like her encores.

Tonight looked like it would be no different. Sitting again at her small, scruffy kitchen table, Eden bounced her knee and stared at the notebook. In her hands, she fumbled with the phone she’d bought with Frank’s money.

She debated, yet again, on whether or not to sabotage everything. Was giving everything up worth not feeling so damn lonely anymore? Was she so desperate to just talk to somebody she'd risk telling her family about everything she'd done before she was ready? Would she ever be ready? What if she wasn't? What then? Would she have to feel this way forever?

Eden stood abruptly, her chair legs scraping across the floor. She started pacing.

Her apartment was small. A single room shaped like an awkward U. One small room that wasn't even half the size of the barn. One small, damned room with no woods, no creek, no nothing out back to walk through. No fields, no pastures, no space to breathe in. Just a single, small, damned room.

Eden's hands shook as her headphones blared. There were no horses in Gotham. No animals at all. No hay, no stalls, no targets. No creek, no woods, no family. No friends. No nothing. No one. Just Eden.

Eden. All alone.

The thin walls around her got smaller and smaller until, finally, she could take it no more. Eden ripped off her headphones and threw them at her bed. She carelessly stuffed her wallet, keys, and a can of mace into her coat pockets as she hurried out the door. She left her phone on the table. Bringing it with her wasn’t a good idea right now. She couldn't trust herself; there were too many numbers she knew by heart.

She marched loudly down the dark streets, channeling her wild, palpable energy into something that could resemble rage. It was a long trek to the store but thankfully there weren’t many people out. Those who were took one look at Eden charging down the sidewalk – looking like a demon on a warpath – and quickly turned their heads. She was grateful.

The old man working the checkout didn’t make any small talk when she walked in – people here rarely made small talk – but he quirked a thick brow in her direction. He quirked it again when she only set down eggs, flour, sugar, vanilla extract, and yeast in front of him.

“Stress baking,” Eden told him.

He looked from her to the poorly lit streets beyond the store's barred windows. Then the old man nodded slowly like maybe she was crazy. Which was fair.

This was Gotham. It was nighttime. And she definitely felt crazy.

“Good luck,” he murmured, handing her her bags.

“Thank you.”

The walk back was harder. Worse, because her hands were full; no matter how angry she acted, she was still clearly vulnerable. That made everything feel darker and colder than it had before.

Even fewer people were out now, but Eden was easy prey. Some men took advantage and catcalled her as she passed. A few even followed her down a handful of streets, heckling and laughing while she reprimanded herself.

Why couldn't she have just gone through with her usual routine? It was unsatisfying, yes, but safe. Why hadn’t she just gone to the store tomorrow? She could've broken the cycle then, when it was safe to go out. Not now. Not right now. What in the world made her think leaving her apartment right now – in Gotham City, at night, in this neighborhood – was not only a good idea, but her only sane one? Had she been possessed?

Eden's heart pounded fiercely in her chest. Her vision tunneled. The sidewalk stretched further and further into the night, never letting her closer to home no matter how fast she walked.

“Excuse me!” she chirped as she nearly ran into someone turning the corner. A pair of men looked down at her, surprised.

Eden ducked her head and scurried away, grimacing. Nobody in Gotham excuses themselves like that. Nobody in this neighborhood excuses themselves at all. It was a rookie mistake.

“Hey, wait a minute!” one of them called after her. “You ain’t from around here, are you?”

“You lost, pretty girl?” the other crooned, sounding closer. “Need some help finding your way?”

“No, I—” Eden snapped her mouth shut and moved faster.

Don’t talk back, she told herself firmly. Don’t engage with them. And whatever you do, do not be Louanne Smith’s daughter. Or Frank’s. Definitely don’t be Frank’s. You’ll only get yourself—

“Here, beautiful. Lemme help you with that.”

“Fuck off!” Eden shrieked, jerking away from the man and firmly planting her feet on the ground. The burly men shared an eager grin as they moved closer.

Well. At least she’d tried not being her parents' daughter.

“Boys,” she said slowly.“I appreciate the offer. Really. I'm downright flattered." Her voice dripped with an eerie mixture of danger and hospitality — something she’d picked up from her mother. "But I'm not interested. So why don't y'all skedaddle on home, hm?"

The bald one furrowed his brows.

The other scoffed. “It's too bad you feel that way, sweetheart.” He pulled out a knife. “Cuz we ain’t offering.”

His friend started to chuckle, leering at Eden like she was their next meal. She just stared at the knife, looking bored.

She stood as tall and proud as Frank had taught her but tried to treat the situation as her mother might — like the knife and their ogling and their heavy builds meant nothing to her. Acting as if her body was a far more potent weapon than anyone could fully comprehend. But that's all it was. An act. On the inside, her heart was racing faster than lightning.

Where was her mace? Somewhere deep in the crevasses of her coat pockets? Had to be. Was it too late to start digging for it? Probably. Scrambling for it would just make her more vulnerable than she already was.

She cursed silently as she tossed her bags aside, careful not to disturb the eggs too much. Had she ever successfully wrestled a knife out of somebody’s grasp? Yes. Without getting stabbed first? Maybe, but it certainly wasn’t her strong suit. None of this was. That’s why she did do stuff like this. She only got herself killed trying. At least it was a knife this time and not a gun.

Her mind, already in a frenzy, jumped back to that fight with Chris Henriksen. Her shoes skidding against the gravel of the diner’s parking lot as he tried to swing her off him. His finger on the trigger while she tried to twist the gun out of his grip. The gun firing, him shrieking in pain. His hand free, aiming at her.

A ring of shots. Sudden, ripping pain.

Her, against the gravel. Him, standing over her. The gun, cocked. Him—

“Fuck off!” she screeched again, louder this time. “I’m warning you, shitbags! I’m not afraid of you or your stupid fucking knife!”

The one with the knife grabbed her by the shirt. He pressed the blade into her neck. “You shut that filthy mouth of yours, you dirty fucking bitch," he growled. "Or I'll give you something to be afraid of."

Eden stared him down. She glared at the other man, thinking. Could she win this fight? Two big, burly men against little ol' her? Maybe. Could she end it quickly though? Definitely. But it would cost her.

The man's eyes traveled downward. He licked his lips and Eden scowled.

Fuck it. She wasn't playing this game.

Eden lurched into action, grabbing for the knife — trying to bring it closer to her neck.

“Hey, you fucking psych—" Eden slammed her knee into him, cutting him off. He doubled over as she tried to steal the knife from his hold. The second man grabbed her like a vice, nearly crushing her arm as he yanked her away from his friend.

Eden kicked and screamed and thrashed against him. She smashed the back of her skull against his nose. He swore loudly as he dropped her, clutching his face. She grabbed his arm and yanked him by the shoulder, swinging him over her like a huge sack of potatoes. His back hit the sidewalk and he let out a loud, satisfying, "Oof!"

The first man grabbed Eden again and flung her into the wall beside them. She turned just in time to see the knife sailing down toward her.

It wouldn’t kill her. She knew that. A single stab wound rarely killed a person. She'd been stabbed enough times to know that. It would take a few more swings.

Her death tonight would be long and painful.

She shut her eyes tight, wishing it could already be over. An encore was better than the alternative but... the pain was her least favorite part.

She wondered if anyone on this street would bother calling the police. Hopefully, they wouldn’t. She didn't want to deal with that. She didn't know how to deal with that. Not without her family there to help her out.

More importantly, would anyone try to steal her groceries? Hopefully, not. That would be the real tragedy of the night. Maybe her dead body would deter thieves. Or at least make them—

BANG!

Eden shrieked and the man in front of her howled.

She opened her eyes. The man staggered away from her, clutching his bloody, bleeding hand to his chest. Eden pressed herself further against the wall and slid down, trying to make herself as small as possible. His blood-drenched knife lay a few feet away. She grabbed it and held it tightly; the palm of her left hand wet and burning.

The man looked up – high, up toward the sky – and paled. Fear overtook his features and he turned, screaming bloody murder as he ran. His partner was already halfway down the street, swearing frantically.

A gun went off again, twice. Eden flinched at the sound.

Her attackers kissed the concrete as they fell. Once they hit the cold hard ground, they didn’t move. She didn’t move either. If they were already dead there was nothing she could do for them anyway. And even if they weren’t, she was more than happy to let them bleed out on the silent, empty street.

Eden inhaled deeply, trying to calm her shaken nerves, but couldn’t catch her breath. Her heart thundered in her chest as something wet dribbled down her shirt, down her fingertips. The world swayed and her body slunk over, falling completely against the building.

Was she still going to die? That didn’t seem fair.

Then again, the universe didn’t care what people thought was fair. It had its own rules; the number one being that it did what it wanted.

Eden stared at her groceries, unable to focus on anything else. She silently begged the universe to leave them alone. If she had to die right now, going to the store again was uncalled for. The universe would just be kicking her while she was down. If it could just give her this one, little, tiny sliver of kindness, she would be happy. She didn't need anything else. Just let her die and her groceries stay by her side. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Hey,” a sudden voice said at her side. “You okay?”

—

Chapter 4

#red hood #jason todd #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x oc #jason todd x reader #red hood x oc #red hood x reader #jason peter todd #Never-Ending Encore #oc: Eden Smith #my writing #cross posted on ao3

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jubilantwriter · 3 years ago

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No Idiots Were Harmed in the Making of His Reality

(AO3) (First) (Epilogue)

Summary: The gang goes to an unnamed popular fast food joint after Pico commits mass murder in the name of protecting his duo of idiots. And this is the thanks he gets.

Or: An unfortunate fast food employee gets the misfortune of meeting the trio in their finest hour.

Word Count: 2127

////

There’s only so much a job description can prepare one for. For instance: making burgers, serving customers, taking orders, so on and so forth. That’s what this minimum wage job suggested she would be doing. But it didn’t come with the fine print. It didn’t tell her that she’d be making burgers, sandwiches, chicken nuggets, fries, so on and so forth under pressure as customers ranged from dead-inside but patient patrons to Karen levels of impatient and entitled. There’s caveats, little sidebars, unmentioned stressors that go overlooked because her job is solely to serve the people shitty, shitty burgers.

And it barely even helps her pay rent. The things she’s seen on the job only serves to make her wonder how long it’ll take for her to become either bitter and jaded or completely desensitized by the bullshit this hellish existence can throw at her. Maybe it’ll be a mix of both.

The door opens and swings shut with a heavy, muted thud. Cashier Girl looks up, already exhausted two hours into her shift as she catches sight of the next batch of cus-

Oh. Oh no. Oh no, they look like trouble.

A tall, bubbly young lady in a figure hugging dress smiles sweetly in that, “I’m going to try really hard not to create problems on purpose for you”, sort of way, which happens to be Cashier Girl’s favorite kind of customer. Granted, this girl looks nothing like trouble. She looks like the exact opposite of trouble. But the two men she has in tow makes Cashier Girl think twice about lowering her guard around the pretty girl.

Standing next to her is some dude with cyan-colored hair, a red cap turned backwards in a very dudebro kind of way. He dresses sloppily, like he just rolled out of bed and threw on whatever happened to be in reach, which also just so happened to be the same clothes he wore the day before. His clearly white shirt is stained with something… she hopes is nothing but the results of him being a messy eater. Or maybe he got into a knife fight and won? That has to be the answer for the mysterious, rusty stains and splatters on the right side of his shirt.

However, the one who really sets off her anxiety radar is the taller young man standing next to the cyan shortie. The guy is covered in blood. Not only that, but she’s pretty sure he’s toting at least two guns on his person. And to top it off, he’s wearing a sweater vest and a turtleneck in this kind of weather! Granted, it is a bit chilly, but that level of layering just feels like overkill. He glowers with his arms folded over his chest, clearly hating everything about this experience. Is that dried blood on his face? That is absolutely dried blood all over his face.

Cashier Girl sucks in a deep breath through her teeth and puts on a well practiced smile. “Hello! May I take your order?”

“Yes please! Um,” the lady in red nudges the shorter man with a smile, “what were we going to order again?”

“Beep!”

...Beep?

“Oh! Right! Can we get the 2 for $5 deal?”

She could understand all of that from a single beep?! “Of course! And what would you like?”

“Badoop.” The cyan-haired man nudges the blood covered ginger, and boy, did it look like Little Boy Blue was poking a stick at an angry bear. “Skdeep!”

Having been in the industry for a long, two years has given Cashier Girl the ability to see when someone is about to take a dive into the deep end fairly quickly. The ginger twitches an eye, lips pulled into a snarl as he breathes out a little too deeply. Not quite like a sigh, but like a bull about to charge headfirst into a china shop on purpose. He sucks in a harsh breath through gritted teeth and hunches his shoulders up. Oh wow, he’s really restraining himself.

“Just get me…” And of course Probably a Murderer understood everything Little Boy Blue said. “The nugs and burg.”

With the way he’s restraining himself, she wants to believe that he once worked in the same industry as her. No wonder he’s a murderer. Good for him, good for him. Doing what the rest of them can’t do.

“Alright! And is there anything else I can get for you?”

“Hmm.” Pretty Miss Sunshine looks over to Little Boy Blue who shakes his head before turning back to face Cashier Girl. “I think that’s it!”

“Alright, your total comes to $5.40.”

“Beep!” Little Boy Blue pipes up excitedly and starts digging around in, what she assumes is, his back pocket. The short man pulls out a crumpled, moist-looking five dollar bill. He straightens it out, and Cashier Girl swears that a good quarter of the bill is stained with blood. Probably a Murderer must have noticed the blood too, because he suddenly stiffens and glares at Little Boy Blue.

“...Boyfriend.” Oh shit, are they dating? Is Miss Sunshine just a lady friend of theirs? “Isn’t that the fuckin’ money I lent to you a couple weeks back?”

Oh damn. Cashier Girl looks between Blue and Murderer, Blue either oblivious to Murderer’s growing rage or too wildly confident that the bloodstained ginger won’t actually hurt him. As interesting as the tension may be, she still needs the forty cents to complete their order.

“Sir-”

“Ba beep!” Boy Blue nods vigorously, but she knows it’s not towards her. Murderer lets out a long, aggrieved sigh as he massages his temples.

“So. You’re tellin’ me.” He points to the money on the counter and back at Boy Blue. “You spent… how long at my apartment? Botherin’ me for some extra cash for food, refusin’ to leave for a good few hours, and then completely forgettin’ about gettin' the fuckin’ food you were supposed to get? After I gave you the goddamn money?”

“Oh, I remember that day!” Pretty Miss Sunshine speaks up a little too cheerily given the mood. “We were supposed to get some Chinese takeout, so Boyfriend disappeared for a bit to ask you for some extra money since he was short some.” Wait, are they all dating each other? What the hell? “But Boyfriend came back looking all happy and without any food, and when I asked where the food was, he said he totally forgot! We ended up just using Daddy’s credit card since I remembered I still had it, so we still got food in the end.” Miss Sunshine beams brightly at the flabbergasted Murderer. “You don’t need to worry about that!”

“That’s not what I was pissed about!” For a yell worthy statement, Murderer does an awfully good job at keeping his voice reasonably leveled in this shitty fast food restaurant. “And you had a credit card this entire time?! Why do you fucks keep comin’ over to my place to ask for cash?!”

“Ohhh, well, Daddy took it back after he found out I still had it. But now I’m borrowing from Mommy instead-”

“Oh, so you just have another credit card you could be usin’ instead of my money-”

“Excuse me,” Cashier Girl says as politely as possible, seeing how Murderer’s hand is twitching over one of his guns, “but you still haven’t paid the full amount.”

“Boop!” Boy Blue quickly begins to dig through his pockets, his confident smirk slowly morphing into a stricken grimace as his movements grow more frantic. “Sk-skido, bap de doop-”

“Do not fuckin’ tell me you do not have forty fuckin’ cents.”

Ohhhh shit. Cashier Girl feels torn between wanting to see Murderer fucking snap because man, they really are just running his patience into the GROUND, and wanting her goddamn forty cents so that she can move on with these customers. Murderer’s face turns a bright shade of red as he inhales a deep breath through his nostrils and breathes out heavily through gritted teeth once more, the process repeating a few times before he reaches for his back pocket and pulls out a ratty wallet that’s literally being held together with duct tape. Quietly, they all watch as he shakes some coins out and carefully counts out forty cents exactly.

“There,” he says softly in that tone she recognizes from parents who are this close to losing their absolute shit towards their children, “five fucking dollars and forty cents.”

Cashier Girl looks up and sees Miss Sunshine finally starting to sweat just a bit. Still, she keeps up her cheerful demeanor as she addresses Cashier Girl. “I think we’re good now, right?”

“Uh, yes!” She takes the money and tries to get a read on Murderer to see if this shift will be her last one, but he’s got his arms crossed as he stares directly ahead. The stony expression can only spell doom for the two standing next to him. “Your number is 69,” haha nice, “and your order will be out shortly!”

“Babeep! Pi-!” Blue probably tries to make the same comment that Cashier Girl internally made to Murderer, but he’s quickly shut down by the dark glare Murderer shoots down. He quickly laughs nervously and clears his throat, rubbing his arm as he looks away sheepishly. “H-hm… bop.” Blue takes the receipt and nods his thanks, going over to stand by one of the dividers with Miss Sunshine in tow. Murderer, however, remains where he stands, now making uncomfortable eye-contact with her. Anger still rolls off of him in waves, but she’s starting to wonder if being angry is just his default.

“Oi,” he begins, and she quickly glances behind him to see if there are any other customers behind him. None. She’s not sure if she’s disappointed or a bit glad that there’s no one standing behind him. “Honest opinion - you think this joint is a good enough reward for savin’ their asses?”

Oh boy. Cashier Girl has no idea what he means by “savin’ their asses”, but if he means it literally then… She sucks in a breath through her teeth and tries not to grimace. He grunts in response and squeezes his eyes shut with a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, thought so. Really shouldn’t have taken them at their word when they said, ‘their treat’. Ain’t nothin’ been their treat so far.”

Oof. That’s right. That five was originally his that Boy Blue was supposed to pay back, and the forty cents were definitely his. The guy basically treated himself by force. They both share a silent look before he sighs heavily. As much as she’d kind of like to hear more of this dude’s story and why he’s even friends (datemates? They did call Little Boy Blue, “Boyfriend”, after all) with them, she still has a job to do, and chatting with customers for longer than a certain, nondescript time could get her in trouble. However, much to her relief, the ginger takes the initiative wordlessly and wanders back to the pair, sulking in his blood soaked clothes.

Despite clearly looking like a group of troublemakers (especially Murderer), the three keep to themselves, Blue and Sunshine chatting amongst themselves and nudging Murderer every once in a while in some dangerous gambit to get his attention. Each time they do that, he grips his arms tightly, before stiffly looking over to them as they jabber on about something Cashier Girl can’t hear. All he does is nod and look away, intent on focusing on some spot on the wall and practice what she assumes is deep breathing exercises. For a dude covered in blood, he’s doing a real good job at showing restraint.

Finally, their number is called. Little Boy Blue grabs the bag with glee and nods his thanks to her co-worker before heading back to the group. He practically thrusts the bag into Murderer’s face, and the ginger looks ready to bite his hand off when he catches sight of Blue and Sunshine’s faces. They both look so… genuinely hopeful? Like some shitty nuggets and a burger will be enough to quell his fury. Cashier Girl is about to suck in a sharp breath when his expression softens. He takes the bag and almost manages a smile, before seeing the blood on Little Boy Blue’s clothes and hardening his expression back into an annoyed glower.

They all leave without much fanfare. The door slams behind them as she hums to herself, thinking back to this strange group of people who made less trouble than she expected. A smirk rises to her face before she schools it for the next batch of customers.

At least she knows now why he still hangs out with those friends of his. What a softie.

#friday night funkin #fnf #fnf boyfriend #fnf girlfriend #fnf pico #this was posted to ao3 a looong time ago so it's about time i posted it here #cashier girl my beloveeeeed #a working class hero she is #my friend wanted to see this scene and gosh da r n it #so did i #so here it is #he's so mad

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oceanera12 · 4 years ago

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Star Wars Pizza AU

You read that right. In my defense, I saw a post about someone ordering pizza and their order was number 66. I decided to read the comments for a laugh. And then my brain exploded. Whoops.

Dominos (aka the Clones)

The franchise was technically bought by the owner of Little Senators years ago, but no one knows about that except the original owners (*cough cough* The Kamino family *cough cough*) who pretend they’re still in charge for a large hunk of money (ILLEGALLY)

Their best store (the one that makes the most money and has the best reviews) is in the city named after the Kamino’s (Kamino) and is run and operated by a different family, the “Fetts” (and no one is sure how it is legal, but so far no one’s gotten sued so...)

It’s a joke that the “Fetts” will run out of workers at some point but so far it hasn’t happened.

Also, weirdly enough, all of the employees are boys and look a lot alike

The manager’s name is Cody. He’s very strict on the dress code, very fair to the customers, and loves his job.

His brother, Fox, manages another Dominos across town and the two of them will often team up on especially large orders and hold a (friendly) yearly competition between the two stores (Cody’s team has won the last three years, something he will bring up whenever he can)

They have another brother, Wolffe, who manages another store as well, but he’s across the country so they don’t see him as much.

All three were taught how to make pizza, run the storefront, etc, by their grandfather (Ninety-Nine), who passed away a few years back. Their grandfather was one of the original managers during the franchises’ early years

Rex is the younger brother of Cody and acts as an assistant manager to him. Rex hopes to be promoted one day but he’s happy where he is right now.

Boil and Waxer (the cousins) are the best chefs they have. The kitchen is filled with bickering and teasing with flying dough and toppings but everything comes out perfectly (somehow).

Kix and Jesse are the head delivery boys. They are in charge of training the newbies and take the furthest orders (Jesse is known to run the speed limit at one point going 90 down a 35. Kix knows the city like the back of his hand and knows all the short cuts)

Nicknamed, “The Domino Squad” (aka, the thing that started this AU idea), is Fives, Echo, Hevy, Droidbait, and Cutup. (Fives and Echo are twins, with Droidbait as a little bro while Hevy and Cutup are cousins of theirs. All are nephews to Rex and Cody) Cody and Rex quickly learned the five of them could handle the day shift all by themselves. (hence the nickname)

Fives is excellent on the front end, taking orders and answering the phone with a friendly smile and pleasant attitude.

Echo is the best on the register, his mind able to add up the order and give back change very quickly and efficiently. He also keeps the orders straight and has never given anyone the wrong slip/pizza.

Hevy can run the kitchen on a busy shift with help from Cutup (who doubles as a janitor when needed).

Droidbait is one of their fastest delivery boys and manages to rack in a lot on tips and good reviews.

Hadcase and Tup are also delivery boys, with Dogma helping in the kitchen. Tup is also trained on register and is quite good at it.

The advertising team is nicknamed “The Bad Batch” because why would anyone in their family go into advertising over pizza making? (Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, and Crosshair would, apparently)

Pizza Hutt (aka bounty hunters and scoundrels)

Jabba is the owner (who else would it be)

Their best store is in the town of Tatooine, which is weird given how hot the climate is.

The manager is this really creepy guy named Bib Fortuna.

Employee of the month (most of the time) is the delivery boy Boba Fett (who deserted from Domino’s after his dad died in a car accident or something). Bobba is known for always delivering on time and with the food still hot. He’s also really good at getting extra on his tips.

The employees come and go on a regular basis, some staying for several years, others only a few days. Jabba is very particular about his place and if he doesn’t like the worker or how someone is doing something, he’ll fire them. Usually with no notice.

On the plus side, Jabba is known to give some pretty good bonus’ if you do a really good job.

Every once in a while, the company offers a special topping. No one is a hundred percent sure what it is but it tastes really good so it sells well. (Don’t ask me what it is)

The employees are not allowed to interact or affliate themselves with any of the other pizza places or Jabba will fire them. He’s very jealous of his company and will not risk losing his secret recipies (hence why only a few people actually know it)

Han and Chewy work there for summer jobs.

Little Senators (later Little Empire-- aka Palpatine and pals)

Palpatine “bought” the franchise years ago (he persuaded the previous owner to basically give it to him with some blackmail and a few other shady business moves, but hey. If no one can trace them, it never happened)

Their best store is in Coruscant (which also happens to be one of the biggest cities in the country) and are considered one of the largest franchises in pizza (if not the largest)

There are two managers that stand above the rest: Dooku and Padme.

Dooku runs the southern Coruscant Little Senators while Padme runs the one in the little off branch city of Naboo. Neither like the other one.

Dooku’s store is known to deliver on time and never mix up orders. The actual pizza’s taste fine, but they are a little haphazardly thrown together.

Padme’s store is known for having the “better tasting” pizza and their food is always hot. If the order is mixed up, they do full refunds and deliver the proper order with no charge.

Dooku’s store is one of the first experimenting with robotic help at the counter and in the kitchen. It goes... well enough.

Padme’s assistant manager is Bail Organa and her best employee is her daughter, Leia Amidala.

When Palpatine brings out the new name (Little Empire), Dooku fully supports it and continues under the franchise.

Padme doesn’t support it or the new company regulations (”These new rules and regulations are tyranny!”) and quits (along with Bail) to start their own pizza place (it’s like a local family joint, not a franchise but who knows). They call it “Pizza Rebel”.

Papa Yoda’s (aka the Jedi)

I can’t stop laughing at the name of this one, help

Yoda is the owner (duh) and most of the employees believe he’s at least a hundred and are shocked he’s still alive. And working. He’s short, walks around with a wooden spoon and will whack anyone who tries to eat the toppings. And yes, he is still involved in the kitchen (and hasn’t retired)

He taught Dooku all about the business of making and selling pizza’s. Dooku grew in skill and then one day left the company without a word. A few years later he showed up as a manager in Little Senators. Ever since then, Papa Yoda’s has been struggling to stay a float.

Some managers worth mentioning: Mace Windu, Obi-Wan, Plo Koon, and Shaak Ti.

Obi-Wan runs the store in Naboo, which had been run by his teacher, Qui-Gon Jinn until his sudden death several years ago. He is the youngest employee made into manager to date. His assistant manager is Anakin Skywalker, who really wants his own store but Yoda thinks he’s not quite ready (which he isn’t). Their best employee is Ahsoka Tano, who can do it all (cook, deliver, and serve) followed closely behind by Luke Amidala (who Anakin claims he’s not related to, but everyone knows otherwise)

(Anakin has been secretly married to Padme of Little Senators but when she leaves the company there’s not much of a reason to keep it a secret. Turns out it really wasn’t a secret because everyone in the store knew-- they also knew about Luke and Leia, apparently)

Mace Windu runs his store alone, but runs it efficiently. The closest thing he has to an assistant manager is his head cook, Deba Billaba. Caleb Dume (Kanan Jarrus) is their best delivery boy who has recently decided to start training some of the newbies (Sabine Wren, Ezra Bridger, Garazeb Orrelios). The front end is run by Hera Syndulla (who may or may not be dating Caleb, it’s a running bet).

Plo Koon and Shaak Ti run their store together (as business partners that’s it) and are known to treat their employees, customers, and their rivals with consideration and kindness. They have a shop very close to Wolffe’s Dominos, which does cause some contention at low points but for the most part, they get along fine. (Plo and Shaak Ti absolutely love the family dynamic between Wolffe’s “pack” of employees). The two will often help Wolffe and his crew in outside business affairs (finding open apartments for employees, helping buy a first car, etc) and they will do the same for the two managers. Most people don’t get how Dominos and Papa Yoda’s are both still open because of this relationship, but they are. (In the future, someone finally figured out Dominos had some legal issues in it’s ownership and was forced to merge with Little Empire or shut down. Wolffe chose to shut down and he and his pack were immediately offered jobs at Papa Yoda’s. They accepted.)

Yoda actually manages a store as well. It’s the “first” one he ever opened and he uses it as a training grounds of sorts for future managers and other job positions. He’s patient, but strict and will often speak in riddles which is annoying to no end. He finds it a great way to weed out the ones that don’t want to be there, and the ones that do.

Order #66 has been banned as an order number. The “why” is never to be spoken of ever again and all the newbies are confused and will ask, but no one will tell them because “they don’t talk about it”

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