#and is now like. clerk at a shop. very boring. just trying to stay out of ppls way. so lonely. doesnt rlly understand her magic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dejwrld · 3 months

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⤷‧₊˚ hiromi higuruma helps his bratty sub study for her bar exam.

┊ •° ੈ ⋆° ┊ warning readers discretion is advised — black reader with descriptors, female anatomy described, her/she pronouns, usage of y/n, reader is a law student, mentions of reader being the child of a judge, mentions of law, dom!hiromi, sub!reader, reader described to be very feminine and bratty, no cursed au, dom x sub dynamic, usage of toys (vibrating panties), oral (reader receiving), pet names (good girl, doll), mentions of pubes, praise kink (academical), bonus after care scene, written in third pov (hiromi’s), mdni

sticky note from deja — sometimes i think about dom hiromi higuruma and just sigh happily.

Hiromi passed his bar exam with flying colors. He didn’t do study groups. Simply studied alone and prioritized his time to balance being a law clerk, studying, and socializing to ensure a law firm hired him. But this woman didn’t do any of that and frankly, he was even shocked that she still wanted to pursue law at all. She graduated from law school with a high GPA, and wonderful recommendations from amazing professors, and her father was a prominent judge. Many can assume that her pretty looks and her legacy surname got her where she is today, but Hiromi has observed her in her element and when she was in her element she was a beast.

So the older lawyer had no clue why she came to him with law books in her arm, her tote bag slung on her shoulders—tight coils sprawled on her head like a crown, and a tight suede tracksuit on as if she was stepping into her law class. But of course, when she had a problem, she came to him. When she needed a quick nut, she came to him. Needing someone to vent about when it came to her class rival, she came to him. Now it seemed she needed help studying for the exam and who did she come to, him.

But as an hour and thirty minutes went by, the young woman was not soaking up the information that Hiromi was going over. His eyes bored into the notebook, flashcards, and textbooks scattered across his desk. She watches as she twirls her pink pen around her fingers reading over the notes she jolted down, but he can just tell by the crinkle of her eyebrows that the information wasn’t going through that thick skull of hers. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe she knew the information because she did. But he doubted she’d remember it for the exam. He leaned back into his comfortable black desk chair trying to rack his brain with a better studying technique before eventually he got an idea. An imaginary light bulb lit up over the top of the lawyer’s head.

“I think I have an idea.” He spoke out, causing her to stop her highlighting—which he was hoping she would do because the scent of the highlighter was already giving him a headache simply because she just had to have scented ones.

This one smells like strawberries, smell it? Those were her exact words forty-five minutes ago as he was going over some laws on family laws.

“Will it help me feel like the information I’m consuming is sticking and staying in my brain?”

“Possibly,” was the only thing Hiromi answered before pulling himself out of his seat and disappearing from his office.

It was three things the woman that sat across from him enjoyed. Shopping, her father’s credit card, and sexual pleasure. If Hiromi had any more knowledge of psychology, he would have labeled Y/N as a nymphomaniac.

When returned with the red velvet box, he sat the box on the table and she perked up happily, possibly thinking that this was a sparkly diamond necklace for her.

“A gift? Aw, this definitely will help.” Her plush glossed lips spread into a smile. She claps her hands together in excitement sitting up in the chair.

“It’s not a necklace, doll.” He points out. She opened the box revealing the black lace underwear that had a vibrator inside of them.

He was going to use these at their anniversary dinner as a sub and dog duo, but he guessed he had to come up with another idea to make their dinner interesting. His gloomy eyes watched as her eyes lit up like fuckin’ fireworks. His assumption was right. He watches as she simply stands up ready to remove her underwear eagerly.

“I do think a quick sex session will help me focus a bit more. This is why I came to you. At first, I was going to join that one guy who knows Nanami's study group, but in my mind—I just knew you would have a better study idea.” She giggled as her hand went to untie her tracksuit bottoms to change into the other panties.

“No, we’re not doing that. Put the panties on and sit back down.” He scattered around his desk to give her time to change into the vibrating panties.

He thought she was going to argue against what he said, but she didn’t. As quiet as can be, she’s shuffling to remove her underwear and replace it with the sexual treat that Hiromi graced upon her. While she changed, Hiromi was looking for the notebook that he used when he was studying for his bar exam. He knew it had a bunch of mock bar exam questions on there and thought they would help. When he found the book, he walked back to his desk and Y/N sat patiently waiting for him, she went back to reading her textbook without a care.

Hiromi removed the box from the table, placing it on the ledge behind him after he grabbed the remote. He slammed the notebook on the table that looked like it’s been through centuries of war. He liked keeping it because it showed how far he had come from a law student to one of the best lawyers in the city. He skimmed through the pages before finding a page he wanted to start on.

“A defendant is being prosecuted for conspiracy to possess methamphetamine with intent to distribute. At trial, the government seeks to have its agent testify to a conversation that he overheard between the defendant and a co-conspirator regarding the incoming shipment of a large quantity of methamphetamine. That conversation was also audiotaped, though critical portions of it are inaudible. The defendant objects to the testimony of the agent on the ground that it is not the best evidence of the conversation.” He pauses briefly to look at Y/N across from him. “Is the testimony of the agent admissible?”

He watches as she brings her French tip manicured finger to her chin to think. He had a feeling she knew the answer, she told him about the paper she had done about admissible evidence. But as he watches her shoulders go upward and downward in an ‘I don’t know’ manner, Hiromi lets out a sigh before pressing the remote. The silence in his office was disrupted by the sound of the vibration. He watches as she jerks forward provocatively. He leans back in his seat.

“You know the answer to this, stop being a smart ass.” Hiromi’s slender fingers toyed with the small remote watching as she was withering forward in attempting to mask her moan.

“It’ll be admissible,” She breathes out.

“Why?” Hiromi asked.

For a quick second, he can see a glint of sexual frustration in her eyes. This was the first sexual encounter in a while due to him restricting them from it. He had a huge case coming up and she had to study for the bar exam. Sex would cloud their judgment on the tasks they had to do.

“The best evidence rule does not require proof of the conversation through the audiotape.”

He presses the button on the remote making the vibrator stop. “Good girl. I knew you knew that.” His lips crack a smile and he watches as she recomposes herself.

“Next question.” Hiromi flips through the pages in his notebook. “Hypothetically thinking, say a person broke into a closed building to solely seek refuge due to a snowstorm. Can this person be convicted of burglary if that’s her defense?” His fingers were itching to press the button, but he had to hear her answer first.

“No.”

“Why? Come on baby, you know they’re going to ask why?”

“I’m not sure, let me think.”

It didn’t take long before Hiromi pressed the button. Her moans echoed within the study while clasping her thighs closed to engulf the sudden vibration from the panties she wore. She falls back into the seat across from him and her body arches off of it briefly before she’s finally croaking out an explanation.

“Burglary requires the intent to commit a crime upon entering a building and seeking shelter from a storm is not a criminal act. So, this hypothetical person can validate her claim.”

“That’s right. You’re doing amazing with these questions. Just need it to stick in your brain, that’s all.” He reassures Y/N with a smile.

The quizzing went on for about thirty minutes, but Hiromi had lost track of time when he felt how tight his cock felt in his slacks. He was sure she had orgasmed multiple times from the vibrating panties just by the way her eyes drooped, her body slouching in the leather seat she was in, and the fact that he could see her hardened nipples through the sports bra after she had unzipped the hoodie of her tracksuit. She had this tendency where if he wasn’t touching her during little sessions, she had to touch herself. Which she did, right across from him—each time he flicked the remove on causing the vibrating on her pussy, she'd pinch her marbled nipples while uttering out a response to a random law question.

“I think you deserve a break for today. You still have the weekend to study,” He pointed out as he tossed the remote back into its box. “Come here.”

She’s hesitant at first and Hiromi can tell just by the way her lips part to argue and her eyebrows frown together. She wasn’t sure if she should cave and come forward or stay put just to feel the vibrating in between her thighs again. She knew that he knew she always defied him in some way just to get a rise out of him, but today—it seems her head was screwed on right. After all, Hiromi didn’t have to help Y/N study. Helping her study wasn’t a part of the contract, but he did—in such an odd sexy manner that caused her to be soaked between her thighs.

As she tiptoed around the wooden desk, she was peeling off her clothes so provocatively that Hiromi couldn’t help but swallow the harsh knot that formed in his throat. He couldn’t wait for himself to be buried so far in between her sumptuous thighs that the only thing he could smell on his top lip was her essence. Hiromi spread his muscular thighs so that she could take place between them—looking down at him like she was Aphrodite and he was a man that she had just placed under a spell due to her elegance. His hand grabs her waist letting his hands caress every bump and curve of her body that he was obsessed with. From the stretch marks that decorate her mahogany skin to the small mole that was right near her belly button.

“You drive me fuckin’ insane,” Hiromi finds himself saying. His dark eyes scan at how her lips spread into a grin.

He grabs her, placing her on his desk without a sweat. The sound of textbooks and notebooks echoed through the office as he pulled himself further under the table. Her legs gaped so provocatively that in Hiromi’s mind, the Lady Justice statue on the shelf on his left probably wanted to clutch her pearls. Hiromi placed subtle kisses on her legs starting from her ankle which was decorated bejeweled with a diamond anklet.

“You’re stalling. You know how much I want you right now, and you’re stalling.” The law student breathes as she leans back on the weight of her arms.

Hiromi watches as her chest begins to rise rapidly with each kiss growing closer to her pussy. Her words went into one ear and out the other for the lawyer and when he was finally face to face with what his mouth salivated for, his eyes met with hers. Her eyes were pleading for something. A kiss. A nibble. A lick. Hell, even a blow. Anything to soothe the aching feeling on her clit. Y/N’s hand went down to palm at the wetness in between her thighs, so eager and impatient—but the stern lawyer stopped her.

“Don’t fucking touch yourself, Y/N.” He commands.

And there goes the tone she was longing for. Oh, that authoritarian tone that made her pussy clench when he used it. She relaxes under his touch and lets him do his work. “If you’re going to take so long, I might as well finish off by myself.” Y/N comments.

“You talk so much, do you love hearing yourself talk?”

“And you are doing so much talking for a man whose mouth should be stuffed with my pus—”

Her words were interrupted by the feeling of Hiromi’s tongue dragging upon her panties. He pulled them to the side swiftly and finally was granted what he wanted all along. The flat of his tongue licks up her pussy lips collecting her juices like a man that was deprived of water for days. He moans at the taste of her and his hands grab at her waist to pull her closer. His eyes flutter close as he’s lapping at her puffy pussy lips at the sound of her moans. Her fingers entangled in his hair as her hips grind against his face. She wasn’t sure what was turning her on more. The way his face was buried into her pussy or how attractive it looked as his nose was nuzzling against her pubes.

“Fuck.” She moans out, her toes curling at the feeling of his tongue flicking her clit.

Hiromi detaches himself from her briefly, peppering soft kisses on her trembling thighs before devouring her whole again. The thing about Hiromi is that he knew how her body would react to certain things. He knew how her pussy clenched around his cock when he gave her neck a little squeeze. He knew that she was in between a squirter and creamer depending on the task. Squirting when he’s fingering her with a vibrator practically glued upon her clit. Creamer when he’s forcing orgasm after orgasm out of her after begging him to cum inside her (but to Hiromi, having his cum inside her is merely a privilege). So of course, he knew using his tongue to trace alongside the drooling entrance of her pussy was going to have her pushing herself forward for more. The mere feeling of his tongue invading her in such a manner that had her a trembling and whimpering mess was something Hiromi knew about her.

Hiromi lets out a moan at how good she tastes. The taste of Y/N has graced his tongue countless times and he still ate her out as if it was the best meal he has tasted. With each squirm in his arms, he’s flicking his tongue slower on her clit. With each moan of his name that slips by her plush lips, he’s granting her more licks and sucks. He wanted to see her come undone right here. He could feel it just by the way her thighs were poorly attempting to entrap his head by shutting them.

He lets out an annoyed sigh after he removes himself from her pussy, “Do you want to cum, Y/N?”

“I do. I want to cum.” She whines.

“Then fuckin’ act like it.”

Y/N obediently nods, her snarky comment jammed into her throat before she let Hiromi spread her thighs even wider than what they were before. Her clit throbbing to be in his mouth again and he graciously granted her wish. Like a deprived man, Hiromi snuggled his nose back into her pubes as if he belonged there. Y/N was aware that Hiromi knew she was about to cum. He had this tendency to hold onto her as if she would turn into dust in his arms—as if he didn’t want to let her go. That’s what he was currently doing as her orgasm was spilling over. One hand gripping her in place (that she knew would leave a bruise) and the other palming his hardened cock through his pants.

Just with the flick of his tongue, an explosive feeling causes Y/N to let out a dragged-out moan. Her back lays back on the desk as Hiromi’s tongue helps her ride out the orgasm. Her French pedicured toes curl at the feeling of that fiery pit in her stomach shattering so intensely it brought tears to her eyes. Her fingers tugged at his black strands of hair as if they were a handle holding her up from falling. When she heard him remove himself from her with a pop, Hiromi leaned back in his seat with a huge satisfied grin on his face.

After Y/N came down from the euphoria of cumming in Hiromi’s mouth, she sat up on her elbows with a pleased look on her face. She knew after any sexual intercourse with the high-profile lawyer, he just had to include aftercare in the special package. He may have gotten off at the thought of seeing her tied up with rope, handcuffed to his headboard, or mouth gagged with his cock—but he was very serious when it came to aftercare. The two soon settled for a bath to end the evening. The warmth of the water engulfed their bodies as they were in the large bathtub filled with scented soap and rose petals. Hiromi’s head fell back to be met with the marbled tile and he let out a relaxing sigh, the scent of Y/N lingering on his upper lip and tongue.

“I have a confession to make..” Y/N leans further back on him, relaxing under the warmth of both the water and Hiromi’s body.

“Hm.” He hums lightly letting his eyes flutter back open.

“I’m actually well prepared for the bar exam. Took a practice bar exam a week ago and according to my professor—if it was the real one, I would have passed.” She happily sighs letting her fingers play with the bubbles in the tub.

“What?” Hiromi glares at the back of her head with a displeased look.

“I woke up this morning with a student and tutor sex fantasy, silly.”

“You will be the death of me.”

⤷‧₊˚ cuties that wanted to be tagged | @tojiscumdumpster @salaciousdoll @thithesandofferings @tachibannaa @shinsousliya @sinistersnakey1427 @gothogue @rhionnajones @jamaicanqueenaa @dxmb-luv @0hmyg0th @ryukenzz @dancingwithdeities @getosbunny @hvly @racconwarrer @aiyaaayei @torapologist @strawhatsav @msdrpreist @neesieiumz @strawberrymuffinlovin @consternat1on @photosbyameil

thanks for reading. <3

#hiromi higuruma x reader #hiromi higuruma smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #female reader #anime x reader #anime smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x black reader #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

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bloomeng · 2 years

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Pov ur obito the convenient store clerk and the weird guy who comes in three times a week to buy nothing but three monster energy drinks and a lottery ticket is back

This started as a dumb lil au my friend concocted but I think it’s very neat so I’ve added onto it

The gist is fairly simple: Obito has been a clerk at this convenient store for a long time now. He could get a better job, but the money is enough bc he’s still living with his gran and it’s a block away from his uncle’s (madara) place. He works long ass boring shifts that are mostly uneventful until one day this guy comes in and buys an ungodly amount of monster energy drink and a lottery ticket. He doesn’t question it but he def thinks it’s weird, but hey to each their own. He thought that would be the end of it until this guy started to become a regular. At first they didn’t talk outside the usual clerk customer exchange, that is until one day. Obito has had enough of living in the dark and so he straight up asks, “what’s up with all the monster and lottery tickets?”

That day he learns the guys name, “Kabuto.” He doesn’t learn “what is up with the monster and lottery tickets.” However, the next time Kabuto comes in he takes Obito’s question as an invitation to just start treating the store like his own personal lounge, going so far as to sit behind the counter. Obito wants to object….. but he’s also incredibly lonely, so he kinda just let’s him stay there and rant at him. He learns that he’s a Reddit nerd, who’s obsessed with those weird supernatural stories and conspiracies. He learns that he will drink all three of those monsters in one sitting. He learns that the tickets are for some skam he’s trying to pull (selling a ‘winning ticket’ on ebay). He learns all of this but also nothing at all. Somehow Kabuto remains a total stranger.

Then one day he’s out shopping for his Gran and he runs into Barnes and Noble and there Kabuto is behind the counter. Obito thinks this development is hilarious. Kabuto does not share his sentiment. The next time they hang out Obito decides to take a chance. “We already hang out at work, yknow we can just…. I don’t know hang out outside this shit hole?”

So yah it’s just a weird au where Obito and Kabuto are unlikely friends.

#naruto shippuden #obito #kabuto #naruto modern au #there’s more to this au but I figured I develop it as I add onto the cast #i also considered addressing Kabuto’s bg in further depth but it’s a bit sad #it would ruin the vibes #maybe one day i can turn this into a proper fic #but for now here’s my silly lil art for this silly au

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jayz4dayz · 3 years

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5 for Meariri?

Of course! This was a lot of fun to write!

Prompt: “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Jealousy

It was hot. Hot and sticky and miserable. Truth be told, Mary wished Kirari would have chosen a less humid location for a getaway. Technically, Mary wasn’t even supposed to be there considering this was a student council event. She wasn’t fond of a single person on the council aside from Ririka, who was the only reason why Mary agreed to go in the first place.

She just couldn’t say no to Ririka who was so excited to go and was happy to invite her to come along. Besides, sharing a hotel room alone with her girlfriend and relaxing without the burden of school work for a few days didn’t sound like a bad idea at first. Anyone would have jumped at the opportunity to go on an all expense paid trip to an exotic tropical island in another country with their significant other after all.

What Mary wasn’t prepared for was the blazing hot sun, humid weather, and having to shop for a new bathing suit and temporary clothes with Ririka because their luggage got mixed up with someone else's at the airport.

What she certainly wasn’t prepared for was the overly flirtatious clerk at the swimsuit shop who was all too eager to help Ririka find a perfect fit. Ririka was oblivious, of course, and didn’t understand that the young man was heavily flirting with her. But Mary knew and it was starting to piss her off the longer his eyes greedily awaited for Ririka to exit the dressing room in a bikini she had picked out.

“I don’t know, it looks a little tight in the bust,” Ririka said shyly from the dressing room.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you come out? Then I can see if you need a bigger size or maybe take your measurements,” the man grinned, reaching for the handle of the door.

“Um, no. I think the fuck not,” Mary stopped him in his tracks. “I’ll be the judge of that, thank you.”

The man raised a brow at her. “Alright, ma’am. See if your friend needs a bigger size then.”

Friend. The word made Mary bite her tongue for she wanted to say she was much more than Ririka’s friend. It left a bitter taste in Mary’s mouth as she grumbled, walking into the changing room.

Almost instantly, her sour mood shifted the moment she saw her girlfriend shyly holding her arms as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. The bikini was an aquamarine color and fit her body near perfectly. It showed off her well toned stomach and seemed to fit in all the right places. She was stunning as always, only now even more so.

Ririka smiled slightly, blushing when she saw Mary’s wide-eyed expression. “H-how do I look?”

“Hot,” Mary breathed out. “I-I mean you look great!”

“Thank you, love. Do you think it shows off too much of my body though?” Ririka asked, lowering her arms.

To Mary, it didn’t show off enough. Not that she’d ever admit. However, it was revealing enough that she knew people would definitely look twice if they walked past Ririka. It was hard enough for her to keep her own eyes off of Ririka, but perhaps that was only because she was her girlfriend. Besides, Ririka was going to be wearing this bathing suit for one reason and one reason only: to swim. It was either this or a wetsuit, which both Kirari and Mary discouraged her from doing since the ocean water was relatively warm and it would have just been a hassle.

“Would you like a one piece instead?” Mary snickered.

Ririka pouted. “Well, not really. I kind of wanted to get a tan.”

“Babe, you don’t tan. You burn,” Mary scoffed. “And this’ll mean you’ll need to put on extra sunscreen.”

“Hm, maybe you’re right. I’ll just get a one piece,” Ririka agreed, beginning to strip down.

“You could get both,” Mary suggested. “One for the beach and one for the pool at the hotel or for other occasions. That is if it’s in our budget.”

Ririka grinned. “Money’s not an issue, so I think I will! Thank you, dearest.”

Mary maintained her tsundere attitude, rolling her eyes when Ririka briefly pecked her lips. However, she failed to hide her blush or the smirk that made its way onto her face from the sudden affection from her lover.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just hurry up so we can meet the others at the beach spot,” Mary chuckled.

Ririka’s hand intertwined with Mary’s and she grinned as they walked along the sandy sidewalk. Seeing Ririka smile warmed Mary's heart; she rarely saw her girlfriend smile. She was used to seeing the creepy smile of Ririka’s mask, something Mary was grateful Ririka left behind for this trip.

Mary received several glances from onlookers, which she normally wouldn’t pay any attention to. Until she realized they weren’t staring at the two of them, they were staring at Ririka. She was in her two piece and Mary supposed that and Ririka’s platinum hair drew a bit of attention. She protectively held her girlfriend close to her, scowling at whoever stared at her for too long.

Ririka paid no attention to that or the people who looked at her. She only smiled brighter, thinking Mary was only being extra affectionate to her which she’d gladly accept. She’d never deny it since Mary typically only showed her affection when they were alone or occasionally when they were with friends.

“Clingy today, hm?” Ririka teased.

“Maybe,” Mary grumbled, her cheeks reddening.

Ririka recognized that tone of voice. Mary was greatly irritated by something. What it was, Ririka couldn’t figure out yet. It was hot outside and she knew how much Mary hated hot weather, but soon they’d be in the cool, soothing water of the ocean. So she didn’t dwell much on the thought.

Once they arrived at the location, they were greeted by Kirari and Sayaka. Kirari immediately handed her sister a bottle of sunscreen, to which Ririka began to complain. The two started to bicker while Sayaka insisted for Ririka to apply sunblock. The conversation bored Mary, so she walked over to an empty area and took her beach towel out of her bag. She laid it across the sand before sitting down, watching sea birds dive into the ocean.

Eventually, Ririka walked over to Mary in defeat, plopping down on the towel. She laid her head in Mary’s lap and pouted, looking up at her.

“Riri, you’re gonna get sunscreen on my jeans!” Mary laughed, brushing a loose strand of hair out of Ririka’s face.

“Kirari put too much on me,” Ririka cringed, trying to rub the whiter areas on her arms that still had sunblock on it. “I don’t burn that badly.”

Mary snorted. “Yeah you do. Even worse than I do.”

“Whatever,” Ririka groaned. “I want to swim eventually. Maybe I’ll see some fish.”

“Nah, chances are you’ll only see Midari trying to drown,” Mary replied. “If you’re lucky, you’ll see Yuriko-senpai drown trying to save her.”

Ririka looked out at the shore, seeing Midari chasing Yuriko with a dead or perhaps horrifyingly still alive sea jelly as the poor girl shrieked and tried to evade her. “Hm... or Yuriko will try to drown Midari herself.”

“Yeah and Midari would probably let her,” Mary snickered as she too watched Midari torment Yuriko. “Maybe that was her plan all along, the damn masochist.”

“I don’t know,” Ririka sighed in disinterest. “Will you go swimming with me?”

“Later maybe. I don’t wanna get covered in sand if I can avoid it,” Mary responded curtly. "Besides, then I'd have to change out of my jeans which I really don't wanna do."

Ririka grinned, wrapping her arms around the blonde’s waist. “Do you want to just stay like this for a while then?”

“I can get used to this,” Mary smirked in agreement.

And so they did, enjoying the ocean breeze and each other’s presence. For a while at least, until Kirari and Sayaka returned. Mary only glared at them as they approached, hoping they were only coming over to grab something from their bag or that they’d walk right past them.

“We’re playing badminton,” Kirari announced with her signature sly smile, wrapping her arm around Sayaka.

“That’s nice. Have fun, I guess,” Mary raised a brow at them in dismissal.

Sayaka’s face was bright red, regardless of her efforts of trying to remain in her professional Secretary persona. “T-the President is referring to the four of us.”

“Tch, I’m not playing against her. She never plays fair for gambling or sports,” Mary scoffed.

“Your incapability in athletics is no excuse for accusing me of not playing fair, Saotome,” Kirari faked a pout that made Mary’s blood boil.

“We’ll play only if I choose who’s on each side,” Ririka chimed in. “And Mary is very athletic, Rari. Her flexibility is impeccable.”

Mary’s face felt hot as Ririka winked at her, catching on to the double entendre. “T-thanks.”

Kirari pursed her lips. “Very well then. I have no issue with this.”

Ririka grinned and looked at Sayaka who was still practically attached to Kirari by the hip. “Sayaka, are you alright with being my partner for this?”

Mary instantly felt a stab of betrayal and she could tell by Kirari’s sudden shift in expression that the feeling was very much mutual. The younger twin squinted at the blonde, silently voicing her displeasure with this sudden arrangement. Mary shot back a sinister glare with just as much venom.

It was clear neither were expecting Ririka to choose Sayaka. It would have been less surprising had she chosen Kirari, even. Perhaps this was all for Ririka’s entertainment, knowing that Kirari and Mary would rather eat sand than pair up together for anything.

Sayaka gave Kirari a look of panic to which Kirari gave a slight nod, kissing Sayaka’s forehead before releasing her. Sayaka’s expression immediately softened.

Sayaka gave a light smile. “I would be honored to be your partner, Ririka-san.”

Jealousy tugged at Mary’s heart. She despised feeling jealous of Sayaka, someone she knew followed Kirari around like a lost puppy and devoted her life to her. Maybe it was because she knew Ririka shared the same face as Kirari that made her feel like Sayaka was some sort of threat. Mary of all people knew that Ririka and Kirari were two very different people, regardless of their similar features. Yet it still got under her skin.

“Now that it’s settled, I’m going to ask Runa to be the score keeper,” Kirari spoke up; her tone was bitter.

Mary sighed, getting up and dusted off the sand from her legs. She watched as Kirari and Sayaka walked towards the volleyball net which she was sure they were going to use for their game.

Ririka smiled mischievously at her to which Mary responded with the roll of her eyes. “Was it really necessary pairing me up with Kirari?”

“Of course it was,” Ririka nodded. “You said you wanted things to be fair. Had Kirari and I been on the same side, there would be an unfair advantage since the two of us are unstoppable at pretty much every sport. Had I paired us with each other’s significant other, all of us would be distracted. This pairing assures that Kirari won’t try to cheat because you’ll be there to catch it, though I’m not sure how she could cheat in badminton. Regardless, this will be a good way for the two of you to work on your team work skills and maybe help you bond with each other.”

It made sense at least, but the last thing she wanted was to be on the same team as Kirari Momobami. Hell, she would have rather been paired with Sayaka and accepted whatever loss they took if the twins dominated in the game. She couldn’t have cared less about victory or loss seeing as how she didn’t even want to play in the first place.

Being paired with Kirari complicated things. She knew how competitive Kirari was and she did not want to hear Kirari’s constant complaints and reminders of how shitty of a player Mary was if she didn’t put any effort into the game.

So Mary was trapped, and very much frustrated with the whole situation. All she could really do was sigh and grin and bear it for the time being. It was just one game after all. How bad could it be?

Mary severely underestimated just how competitive Kirari was and Ririka for that matter. Her girlfriend was right in saying that she and Kirari would have absolutely had an advantage had Mary been paired with Sayaka. In all honesty, it looked more like the twins were going against each other rather than all four of them.

Mary and Sayaka couldn’t keep up with how fast Ririka and Kirari were. Their speed and accuracy was almost inhuman; Mary and Sayaka more or less gave up and just watched the twins compete. It’s not like they were able to attempt to score anyway; Kirari and Ririka were always quick to beat them to it.

Because of the twins rarely missing a hit, the game stretched on far longer than Mary wanted. Both sides were tied and still needed several more points to win. Even Runa looked like she was growing bored, scrolling on her phone since she knew this game wasn’t going anywhere.

The only good thing about this was that Mary got to watch her lover sweat and see those beautiful muscles go to good work. She looked so beautiful, even like this. Her eyes had a fiery tint to them, glowing from her competitive spirit. It made Mary's core burn with desire.

Ririka was panting heavily by the time Runa called for a break so the twins could catch their breath. Mary and Sayaka were hardly breaking a sweat, not that they had a reason to anyway.

“Sayaka and I haven’t scored a single point, so I don’t understand why you didn’t just ask Ririka to play with you,” Mary commented.

Kirari panted, tying up her hair that had long since fallen out of its braids. “I’m beginning to regret not doing so. You haven’t been very helpful.”

“Because you won’t let me hit the feather thing!” Mary shouted in defense.

“It’s called a shuttlecock, heathen,” Kirari huffed. “And I know you’d likely intentionally miss and allow the other team to score so you can get this game over with.”

“Honestly at this point, yeah,” Mary confirmed. “I just wanna be done with this and spend the rest of the day with my girlfriend.”

“Well I refuse to lose in front of Sayaka,” Kirari muttered. “So you’re sorely mistaken if you believe I’ll concede to defeat so easily.”

Mary sighed. “If I make an effort to help you win, do you think the game will end sooner?”

“Perhaps, but if we lose even after you give your all, you know I won’t let you hear the end of it, don’t you?” Kirari smirked.

“I expect nothing less and I really don’t give a shit,” Mary grumbled.

“Oki! Let’s resume!” Runa shouted in a clearly faked cheerful tone. “But I’m changing things up. The team to score the next point wins!”

“Why the sudden change of rules, Runa?” Sayaka asked.

Runa sighed. “I’m tired of being the scorekeeper and I wanna go swimming, so let’s get this over with.”

That news was music to Mary’s ears. Now that it was just one point she had to worry about, her mood finally turned competitive. She wanted to end this. She wanted to win this not just to keep Kirari off her back, but to impress Ririka as well.

Everyone got into position. It was Ririka’s turn to serve and Mary didn’t keep her eyes off of her. Ririka glanced over at Mary, giving her a quick smile before serving. Kirari was quicker than Mary, hitting the shuttlecock back onto the other side. Mary rolled her eyes and watched as Sayaka hit it next, sending it towards her.

After sending it back and forth several times, things became rather intense as now all four participants kept their eyes glued on the shuttlecock flying through the air. Mary knew Sayaka was expecting her to always send it to Ririka, so she decided to catch the violet-eyed girl off guard.

Thwack. Sayaka and Ririka watched as the shuttlecock glided through the air. Mary watched as if it were in slow motion as Ririka ran to hit it and surprisingly didn’t miss. However, she crashed into Sayaka in the process, falling on top of her. It wouldn’t have been as bad had Ririka not accidentally placed her hands on Sayaka’s breasts, making the entire scenario all the more awkward. Both Mary and Kirari watched with wide eyes, completely ignoring the fact that the shuttlecock had already landed in their zone.

“O-oh my god, I’m so sorry, Sayaka!” Ririka squeaked and instantly lifted her hands, her face turning bright red from embarrassment.

“That’s… that’s…” Sayaka couldn’t even finish her sentence for she also was too embarrassed.

Mary snapped out of her gaze when she heard laughing next to her. She snapped her head towards Kirari who looked all too amused by this.

“Ara, ara, what I would give to be in my dear sister’s position right now,” Kirari grinned cheekily.

"Does that not make you even a little bit mad?" Mary hissed.

Kirari chuckled. "Of course not. I find this to be quite amusing."

"Of course you do," Mary growled.

“Ririka-chan’s team wins!” Runa announced, startling all of them. Apparently they had forgotten she was there. “Game over! Finally.”

“Good,” Mary grumbled, storming off away from them.

She heard somebody call out after her, but she paid no attention to it. What happened was a complete accident, she knew she shouldn’t have felt angry or jealous. The fact that it happened to Sayaka and not her was perhaps what made her the most upset. But she knew she had to let it go. It was a stupid thing to be upset over.

She plopped down onto her beach towel with a huff, glancing towards the crashing waves in the distance. She saw Midari’s arms wrapped around Yuriko’s waist as they allowed the water to rush past their knees. Mary wished that was her with Ririka right about now. Perhaps not in the water, but instead in the comfort and privacy of their hotel room.

“Are you alright? You looked really upset,” a familiar voice said from behind.

Mary slightly turned her head and her face softened upon seeing her girlfriend. “Yeah, I’m alright. I’m just tired.”

Ririka knelt down, her cerulean eyes full of concern. “Are you sure there’s nothing bothering you? You can talk to me, you know.”

‘Yes, the fact that I haven’t had a damn minute alone with you yet today and people left and right have been looking at you in a way only I should be,’ Mary wanted to say.

Mary shook her head. “Like I said, I’m tired. Don't worry about it. Do you still want to go swimming?”

“Of course!” Ririka grinned. “The badminton game really made me hot so I want to go cool off. Are you going to join me?”

“Maybe I’ll dip my toes in,” Mary smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. “But don’t push your luck.”

“Alright, I’ll see you there then,” Ririka said softly, kissing the top of Mary’s head.

Mary watched Ririka walk over to the shore before wading her way into the water. She chuckled when she saw her dive into a wave and move her platinum hair out of her face when she returned to the surface. She looked happy. Seeing that made Mary happy. Though her day hadn’t gone as planned in the slightest, she was at least relieved Ririka was having fun. She rarely got a break like this and genuinely had fun. School work and helping Kirari run their psychotic family was stressful enough on top of maintaining their position as top gamblers. Ririka deserved a chance to breathe and be herself for once.

Mary got up and rolled up her pant legs before walking over to the shore. She noticed that Ririka had swam much deeper into the water, but wasn’t too concerned. She shivered slightly when the cold water touched her feet, but it was refreshing nonetheless. It was hot anyway, so it felt nice.

She stood there for a moment enjoying the breeze and the shifting sand beneath her toes, finally feeling calm. That is until she saw a lifeguard run past her and into the water. She was swimming closer and closer to where Ririka was which caused Mary to panic.

All she could do was anxiously wait and watch as the lifeguard tugged Ririka parallel to where they were until they reached the shore. Mary sprinted to them, still in a panicked state of mind. Ririka held onto the lifeguard’s arm, her face red either from exhaustion or embarrassment… or because the lifeguard was very attractive.

“I-is she okay? Is she hurt? What happened?” The blonde asked frantically.

The lifeguard gave a friendly smile. “Your friend got caught in a rip tide, but she’s alright now.”

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Ririka stuttered in embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about it,” the lifeguard assured her. “Just be careful swimming in this area of the beach. Alright, beautiful?”

That was it. That was the comment that made Mary nearly lose it. It was too much. With all that had already happened, the flirting from the clerk earlier, the looks from people on the street, Ririka falling on Sayaka, and now the attractive lifeguard flirting with Ririka, Mary's jealousy had finally gotten to a point where she was about to snap if she didn't get so much as a minute alone with her girlfriend.

“Thanks for saving my girlfriend, ” Mary said in the nicest tone she could, emphasizing on the word 'girlfriend.'

“Just doing my job,” the lifeguard nodded. “You two have a good day now!”

Mary crossed her arms, trying her hardest to not let her inner emotions show.

“Mary?” Ririka asked with caution. “You okay?”

Mary huffed, looking up at her. “Yes. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” Ririka smirked.

Mary’s face turned bright red. “No! I just...yes. A little.”

Ririka knew that was an understatement. She took a step closer to her lover, looking down at her. Mary was pouting and refusing to look at her now. Ririka placed a hand on Mary’s cheek, turning her face to look at her.

“You know I only have eyes for you,” the platinum haired girl whispered seductively.

“I-I know that! I’m not doubting your loyalty or anything! I just don’t like people looking at you the way I do,” Mary admitted, placing her hand over Ririka’s lovingly.

Ririka chuckled. "There's so much irony in this situation."

Mary raised a confused brow. "Huh?"

"You think I don't get jealous whenever someone looks at you with lust in their eyes? There are girls and boys in school including in our friend group who I know would give anything to be in a room alone with you," Ririka explained.

Mary was all too aware of her popularity at Hyakkaou. Heck, every Valentine's Day she received love letters from people she'd never even met. Being a top gambler had its perks, but Mary didn't necessarily consider that to be one. Especially now that she was no longer single and had to reject people instead of just brush them aside.

"Our friend group? Who?" Mary asked with a bewildered expression.

"Ryota," Ririka said softly.

"Okay, Suzui doesn't count. He gets flustered around everyone. Remember how much he blushed when he saw you without your mask for the first time? He's just a bundle of awkwardness," Mary explained with a scoff. "Who else?"

Ririka hesitated. "Yumeko."

Oh. Now that Mary could understand. Yumeko was a touchy person by nature, but she was different around Mary. Perhaps it was because she had feelings for her or maybe it was because she was close to Mary. Whatever the reason, Mary could see why Ririka could be jealous of her.

Mary rubbed her neck awkwardly. "Yeah, okay. I can see that. I've never had feelings for Yumeko though."

"Really?" Ririka asked with wide eyes.

"I care about her and all, but she has a hard time with boundaries. You always respect my boundaries and care about how I feel. Even today, you checked in on me when you felt like something was wrong," Mary blushed.

"And something was," Ririka nodded. "Communicating is important, my love. Without talking to me about these things, our relationship wouldn't be solid. We agreed from the start to be honest with each other about everything, right?"

Mary smiled fondly. "Right."

"So be honest with me now. You haven't gotten what you've wanted all day," Ririka sighed, placing her hands on Mary's hips. "What would you like to do now? What do you want?"

Mary licked her lips and breathed out. "You."

"I'm all yours," Ririka whispered.

Ririka's eyes sparkled with desire. Her eyes fluttered shut as she pulled Mary close, pressing their two lips together. Mary smiled into the kiss and the world around them fell away. All they could hear was the crashing waves behind them. It was a moment, a single blissful moment that felt like a lifetime. Kissing Ririka always had that affect, like she was the only other person in the world.

The two broke free for air and pressed their foreheads together.

"I want more," Mary panted. "Somewhere alone with you. Do you think we can go to the hotel?"

"Hm, perhaps. Though the rental car is closer, don't you agree?" Ririka smirked.

The heat between Mary's legs grew more prominent now and had this been any other time, she would have obliged. But she wanted absolute privacy with no risks of being intruded.

Mary shook her head. "No, I want to be alone in a room with you. I need you, Riri."

Ririka grinned, briefly kissing Mary's lips once more before holding her hand, gently tugging her to walk away with her.

"Then what are we waiting for?"

#kakegurui #mary saotome #ririka momobami #mary x ririka #meariri

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wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 3 years

Note

Hello lovely mods! I was wondering if any of you could write a scenario where MC protects Piama from a jerk insult her flowers? And maybe afterwards MC compliments her? Thank you in advance! Love a wonderful week - Aquarius

The sun shone bright over the busy streets of Attadellys. An array of brilliant colors, flawlessly meshing together, as Spring seemed to blossom everywhere. The mood in the Spring Quarter was joyous with the recent coronation - warmly welcoming in their new Spring Queen.

"You'd think some of these people had never seen royalty before." Piama scoffed, holding her hand tightly in mine, as we weaved through the crowded cobblestone streets. "Ruelle, stay close and keep your eyes out for anything suspicious."

"I know how to do my job, Princess Flower Power, thank you." The whispered voice of Ruelle said from the other side of Piama. I laughed as I could practically hear her rolling her eyes. The slight blush to Piama's face only making me laugh harder.

"O-of course." She said, clearing her throat, as she averted her eyes from mine. "I meant no offense, Ruelle!"

She whispered the last part in flustered annoyance. Shaking my head with a chuckle, I placed a small kiss to the inside of Piama's wrist. I knew she would never admit her feelings for Ruelle to me, but I saw the way that they looked at each other. The stolen glances, the blush that spilled so beautifully across her warm skin, every time that Ruelle was close - and I knew I should be jealous - worried, even - but if there was anyone in Attadellys that I would share my love for Piama with, it would be Ruelle.

"Frost, Piama.. where is this place?" I groaned, her eyes cutting me short before I could say another word.

"Has being a Queen taught you no patience at all?" She replied with a smirk. "Does her majesty wish to retire already?"

I rolled my eyes, and gave her an exasperated look - swearing that just for a moment, I could hear a small chuckle coming from the direction of Ruelle.

"You are so very humorous Piama of the Spring. It's not my fault that you put me in the most uncomfortable shoes in all of Lysend!" I replied.

"Ah well, the shoes do make the dress, do they not?" Storm blue eyes tracing me over, as she gave me a heated smirk.

It was not an easy thing, to keep your composure, when dear Piama made you her main focus. The way her eyes seemed to study and learn every inch of you - like there was something just beneath the surface, that she wasn't quite seeing. It never failed to fluster me - to disarm me - to cause me to lose all train of coherent thought. She ran her fingers through the long tangles of her hair. The length of it cascading down her back, brilliant against her warm skin.

"Have I told you how much I like it when you wear your hair down like this?" I asked, taking a strand of her soft hair, and twisting it between two fingers.

"Only about a hundred times, yes." She replied, rolling her eyes - a slight blush rising to her cheeks.

I let out a sigh of relief, making sure to be as dramatic as possible, when we finally arrived at the shop that Piama had insisted we go to.

"Oh hush, Llewellyn! It did not take us that long to get here." She exclaimed, firmly swatting me on the arm before she took off towards a particularly beautiful dress. The sheer, white fabric, almost reaching the floor in the back, while the front would just barely covers Piama's thighs. The purple and yellow flower inlay that adorned the neckline, almost identical the ones in her hair.

"Slush, Piama.. You would look absolutely stunning in that." I said.

"That is the plan, my Queen." She replied with a smirk. "I have been staring at this dress for weeks, it seems like."

As she calls over the clerk, I immediately notice a shift in energy. The tall women's dark eyes, narrowing as they traced over Piama. Her lips almost perched, as she reluctantly made her way over to the dress.

"I would like to get this fitted, if you please."

The tall women just stood there for a minute, staring at Piama.

"In this span, preferably..." Piama added, giving me a look.

"Of course, Miss." The clerk finally answered, taking the dress off of it's stand.

"You might be more inclined to try something like this." A sharp voice from behind me, thick with judgment, rings through. A long arm holding out an extremely chaste style dress in Piama's direction.

"Apologies, but were we talking to you?" Piama snapped back, as I turned to face the person who had interrupted us. A tall woman, with hair as dark as Ruelle’s cloak, and green eyes that could cut their way through a moonless night, stood next to us. Her lips almost twisted into a snarl as she spoke.

"Obviously, you did not, and I am thankful for that, truly." She scoffed.

"Is there something that we can maybe help you with, then?" I asked the seemingly unpleasant woman.

"Yeah, like a stabbing." I heard Ruelle's sarcastic tone muttered under her breath.

"Oh, I was just looking at this dress your friend was planning on buying.. and well, I think we can all agree that this one here.. " She shoved the heavy fabric of the dress in our direction. ".. would suit her, and those unsightly flowers of her, much better. Do you not agree?"

I could feel a blush of embarrassment spilling over Piama's beautiful face without even looking at it. The woman's green eyes boring into her, waiting for a reply.

"And just what is that supposed to mean!" Piama barked back, her emotions starting to run high.

"It means, dear, that you look like a lost garden, that someone forgot to tend to." The woman laughed. "At least this dress, will help with mostly everything.. except for your face, that is."

I could see the tears welling up in sweet Piama's eyes, the vibrant flowers that so perfectly accentuated her warm skin, almost wilting at the harsh words. Anger surged through me like a tidal wave of fire. I clenched my fists, moving closer to Piama, as I took a deep steadying breath.

"Just who the frost do you think you are, speaking to her like that!?" I said, seething.

"Ha.. and just what's so special about her? Hm? Or you, for that matter" She rolled her eyes - her nose sticking straight up into the air, like a physical ailment of her own ignorance.

"Well I, for one, just happen to be Queen Llewellyn of Lysend... " I paused, watching as horror and realization began to paint it's way across the unpleasant woman's face. "And this.. this is Piama of the Spring. The Queen's consort, and my new wife."

I stood a little taller, justice flowing through me like a bolt of lightning.

"Oh.. I am.. so-!" I waved my hand firmly, cutting the woman’s words short.

"I could care less for your apologies, and even less for whatever excuse you'd deem to come up with."

"Y-yes, my Queen."

"And further more.. to answer your question - What makes her so special? The way her voice cracks slightly in the morning, when she's just woken up. How vulnerable she can be, when she’s finally let you into her beautiful soul. The brilliant way her skin flushes over, when I tell her how gorgeous she is. She's incredible - perfectly imperfect, in every way - A fierce and shining light in a world, that you insist on making darker, with your own ugly words."

I could feel my body shaking with anger. Ready to rip this woman apart right where she stood. Only stopping when I felt a shadow of a hand on my arm.

"That is enough for now, my Queen. Let us worry about getting Piama out of here." Ruelle's voice whispered behind me. "If she follows us, I will be more than glad to stab her. "

I gave a small nod, unable to help myself from smiling before clearing my throat.

"Now, I suggest you take you, and your opinions, back to wherever they came from."

"Yes, my Queen." The woman gave Piama one last sneering look, before bowing, and hurrying back to her friends.

"That lady was nothing but a rotting corpse." Ruelle spits out, causing Piama to laugh.

"T-truly."

I took Piama's hand in mine, bringing her attention back to me.

"Hey.. don't listen to a single word that closed minded slush-hole said about you. You are beautiful, Piama." I said, rubbing the back of hand across the supple part of her cheek. Her storm blue eyes slightly averting from mine, as she blushed.

"Th-thank you for saying so, Llewellyn... and thank you for sticking up for me. Ruelle and Lyris are the only one's who have ever done that before."

I placed a small kiss to the inside of her palm, before bringing her in for a hug. My arms wrapping tightly around her, only letting go when I felt her breath start to steady.

"I will always stick up for you, Piama. Always." I replied, as I pulled back, a fond smile on my face. 'Now, let's go buy this dress of yours, and head back to the palace. I'm famished, and the longer we stay out here, the greater chance we have of Ruelle stabbing someone."

"And for good reason." I heard come from the other side of Piama.

"That sounds like a very good plan, my Queen." Piama replied with a laugh, looping one of her arms around my own, the other resting on the empty space next to her. Her smile outshining the bright Spring sun itself, when we exited the shop. Three seasons blended imperfectly together - bonded by nothing more than fate, love, and friendship.

#answered #anonymous #lovestruck #women of lovestruck #piama of the spring #reigning passions mc #ruelle of the autumn #piama x mc #piama x mc x ruelle #reigning passions #light angst #fluffy angst #angsty #angst #woeful wednesday

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djarinispunk · 3 years

Text

Beautiful, Dirty, Rich - Loki Laufeyson Mafia AU

Chapter Four - Spoiled

You had only been back in New York for four days and already you felt as though you needed a break away. You knew that following the whole Paris ordeal and the consequential wasting of your fathers money meant that you were in no position to ask for a vacation. So in turn, you had to settle for retail therapy.

Only it wasn't working, you'd already browsed a number of high end stores by noon only to be left feeling flat and bored. When did shopping become so mundane?

That being said, it hadn't stopped you from spending a hefty amount on miscellaneous items, feeling a sort of satisfaction when you swiped your fathers card. Although it did infuriate you that with his income, he wouldn't even notice your expenditure.

It was a Saturday, meaning the mall was swarming with socialites. Private school pupils gathered by the fountains to gossip. The sugar babies of New York's elites seemed to swipe cards everywhere you turned. It was like a playground for the snobs of society, although, you were in no place to judge, as you cast your eyes down to the mass of bags you had accumulated.

Feeling your phone vibrate in your purse, you groaned, eyes scanning for somewhere to sit, settling when you saw a small café nestled in the corner of the floor you were on.

Not even bothering to check the caller ID you answered the phone with a huff, "Hello?"

"Is that anyway to greet your father?" you had to stop yourself form slamming your head against the glass table, why did you even pick up?

"Sorry, what did you need?" you sighed, wanting the call to be as painless as possible.

"Can I not just call my daughter? Why do I need a reason?" his voice was woven with that accusatory tone he always seemed to use. It was one thing you could pinpoint about his personality that was directly caused by the mafia, he was always so on edge, like everyone was after him.

"Of course not." you tried your best not to snap at him, knowing it would anger him further.

"Anyway, I need you to attend a dinner with me tomorrow night."

So he did need something.

"Uh, sure, what's it for?" you made a mental note to ask Sophia if she too would be in attendance.

"Myself, Laufey and his son are meeting to discuss things."

Things. That could mean anything when it came to the mafia. Who they were going to kill next. Who they were going to sue next. Who they were going to employ next. You hated the uncertainty, it only reminded you of how insignificant you were in the grand scheme of things.

It also reminded you that Loki Laufeyson existed.

After the Gala, you had recouped with Sophia and tried to get all the information that she knew about him. She didn't have much to offer, just rumours she had heard from Charles about his past sexual escapades and childish drama, nothing exciting.

He gave you the creeps.

"So why do I have to come?" you tried not to sound as ungrateful as you were, you didn't want to spend three hours in some stuffy conference room.

"I'm sure Laufey will bring his new wife, and Loki is sure to bring a date."

You tired not to outwardly cringe at the thought of being your fathers date, but you also understood your father didn't have time to find a new wife in the span of a day. So, reluctantly you agreed.

Your father gave you the address of the restaurant you'd be going to with the instruction to, "Arrive at seven, sharp." and with that, he hung up on you, goodbyes weren't a common thing between you two.

You threw your phone into your purse with a deep exhale, you wouldn't even have Sophia to make the dinner less painful. You'd suffer alone.

How dramatic of you.

Deciding you'd had enough of browsing, you got up to leave, catching the glare of the workers whose table you had occupied. You slipped a bill on the table and gave them a tight smile, oops.

You wished you could say you got to the exit painlessly, that you left the mall and walked home in the sun with no troubles. But as always, life wasn't kind to you.

First it was the hair, that familiar black that seemed to shine from root to tip. The hair alone wasn't enough to make you question the identity of the stranger walking only a few feet away from you. However, when you caught sight of the black suit and the company of Charles Buckley, you knew it could only be one person. One person who seemed to be everywhere you turned recently. One very annoying person.

Loki Laufeyson.

Thankfully hadn't seen you make a mad scramble for the nearest store, that store of course, being of the lingerie variety. Your thought process was that if you hid out in there for long enough, he was sure to be gone by the time you regained your composure.

But once again, life wasn't kind to you.

You were seeking refuge by the bra section, pretending to be overly interested in a particular style of lace when you felt that low voice in your ear.

"Wouldn't have thought you were the type to wear white." he said, hands dusting over the material of the straps. His voice was in that tone again, the same he had used at the bar only days prior, it was dangerous how seductive he could be with only his voice.

"I'd hope you wouldn't be thinking about me at all, Laufeyson." you feigned disinterest as you began to walk around the store, him hanging around behind you, following your every move.

"At the thought of you darling, I've done a lot more than think." You turned to glare at him, rolling your eyes in defeat when he wore that cocky smirk. He was so full of himself.

"So you've resorted to stalking me now?"

"You do think highly of yourself don't you dear?" he was smiling at your discomfort, still hot on your tail as you wandered through the boutique.

"I don't know, after the Gala I think I'm right to assume you'd try to talk to me again." you picked up a random pair of underwear, noticing the way the clerk was eyeing you and the man behind you, this way you could buy something and get the hell out.

Loki snatched the hanger form you before you'd protest, scanning the underwear, much to your embarrassment, "Red? How cliché." he smirked, you felt your cheeks heat up; whether it be from anger, humiliation, or a healthy mix of the two.

"You're insufferable Loki. I really mean that." you scoffed, retrieving the panties back and storming away.

But of course, Loki was still following you like a lost puppy, a lost puppy you wanted to kick, "I'm wounded, darling. I really thought we were becoming friends."

You turned abruptly, causing Loki to stumble only ever so slightly. "As an asshole once said to me, don't flatter yourself."

"Quoting me, that's bold." you could see he was enjoying this, much to your annoyance, he liked the back and fourth. You however, not so much.

"No Loki, what's bold is you following me around, commenting on my underwear choices, like the matter has anything to do with you." you snapped, anger seeping into your tone as you tried not to raise your voice too much in the middle of a public place.

Loki was silent for a pause, seemingly taking in your words, but of course his pensive face was just a mask for his childishness as he soon replied with a smirk, "Oh but it will, you'll see." you didn't have time to respond before he spoke again, this time checking his watch, "As much as I'd love to stay and chat I have a dinner to plan. I'll see you tomorrow darling."

And then he was gone, as quick as he came, and you were free to groan, aloud this time. Finally alone, you made your way towards the register, where a slightly bemused clerk was already watching you.

"Boyfriend?" she asked, and you had to stop yourself from declaring her fired on the spot.

"No." you said, the harshness of you voice enough to wipe the playful smile off of her face.

"Oh, okay." you watched as her cheeks immediately went a shade of fuchsia, " Will those be all?"

You looked down at the underwear as you handed it to the clerk, eyes immediately darting to the other pair of underwear, the one you knew you hadn't picked up.

You glared at the pair in your hands.

It was certainly more revealing than the other pair you'd picked up. And the colour? A deep emerald green. Not too dissimilar to the shade of the handkerchief that was sitting in that bastards suit jacket.

You left the boutique with one thought, and that was that you wanted to strangle Loki Laufeyson.

@cynic-spirit

#Loki Laufeyson #loki #loki x you #thor #mcu #marvel #thor ragnorak #tom hiddelston x reader #loki of asgard #loki fanfic #romance #enemies to lovers

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gifted-burnout-archive · 4 years

Text

Jim’s Best Friend

Part Six - With Festivities Comes Chaos

Word Count: 2072

Author’s Note: Bless Jim Halpert

WARNING: None.

December, 2005.

The past two months had been touch and go for you, but you were finally coming out the other side of it all. After Jim and Pam had taken care of you on Halloween, you had spent the rest of the week out of the office, and when you came back and still had a cut over your brow and a bruised cheek, you went with the cover story of slipping and being too proud to admit it.

Of course, you broke your silent treatment against Michael to tell him what actually happened, Jim and Pam flanking you in his office for emotional support. And Michael apologised, for everything since Packer. And now your face had finally healed up (though your side was still bruised pretty badly), everything was getting back to normal, slowly but sure.

—

"There was one day, in the break room, and we weren't doing anything important, but Phyllis told a joke." Jim explained to the crew, biting his lip as he smiled. "And it was the first time I had heard Y/N laugh in months. It was just... She's finally moving forward. Got a restraining order on Brian..." his fist clenched as he spoke his name. "Moved apartment too, somewhere closer to work. Which is great, because I pick her up everyday before work now."

"Well, if your friend went through that, you'd want to make sure they're safe." Jim shrugged. "And look, the rest of the office don't know, obviously. Just Pam, Michael, Toby and I... So keep in under wraps, will you?"

—

Michael was out of the office for a big deal with corporate, and mid afternoon, Pam had found it.

The screenplay. Threat Level: Midnight.

FBI agent Michael Scarn, Catherine Zeta-Jones, impossible feats, illustrations, the lot. After uncovering it, she rushed over to you and Jim, sharing her findings.

"Oh, Pam, good work..." Jim laughed, reading through it, and you winked at Pam, agreeing. It was completely ridiculous, and so very long.

"What do you say to maybe gathering up the office? Having a read through?" You suggested, biting the cap of your pen as you glanced at the pair, Pam letting out a squeal of delight and taking the script from Jim to photocopy.

"Dream team, that's what us three are." Jim smirked, and got up to start gathering colleagues. You finished off the report you were working on, and raided the kitchen for snacks to keep Kevin fed for the next few hours.

The entire team met in the conference room, Pam handing out the screenplay to everyone, and Jim taking charge.

"Do we all have our copy of Threat Level: Midnight by Michael Scott?" Jim asked, and when met with nods and murmuring ascent, he smiled. "All right, let's get this started. I'm gonna be reading the action descriptions, and Phyllis, I would like you to play Catherine Zeta-Jones." Jim offered, and Phyllis snorted.

"That's the character's name?" She asked, but before Jim could respond, Dwight, who was hovering in the doorway, spoke up.

"Okay, you guys should not be doing this!" He announced, Jim looked over at him.

"Why not, Dwight? I mean, this is a movie." Jim turned to the table, staring into the distance for the following emotional words. "This is for all of America to enjoy."

"You took something that doesn't belong to you-"

"Dwight."

"-Brought it in here and made copies of it-"

"Do you want to play the lead role of Agent Michael Scarn?" Jim asked, and that shut Dwight up immediately. He took the spare script from the table centre, sitting down in a spare chair, the room smiling as Jim began to set the scene.

—

After Pam had chatted with Roy about staying late, and Dwight had discovered that he was originally the useless sidekick, Jim called an intermission, and you took a very much needed rest from your tiring role of Assistant Number 3/ Shop Clerk/ Hot Babe. You got up to stretch your legs, about to follow Jim and Pam into the kitchen when a cough caught your attention.

"Y/N." Dwight stood in front of you, Kevin hoovering a few feet away.

"What's up Dwigt?" You asked, intentionally mispronouncing his name. He pursed his lips, but decided whatever he needed to say was more important than ignoring me.

"We don't have a lighter for the fireworks..." he sighed in defeat, and you walked over to your desk, bending over and picking your hand bag, wincing as pain ran up your side. You shook it off, opening the meticulously organised accessory, and beside a packet of unopened cigarettes and your black moleskin notebook was a lighter and matches. You handed them both over to Dwight, and nodded.

"I need them back before we all leave tonight." You reminded him, and the pair nodded like children entrusted with adult scissors before running off, across the street, to play with their fireworks.

You had a look through the office, unable to find Jim and Pam, and with a few moments of thinking, you headed down the stairs and out the building, still holding your handbag, standing in the car park to supervise Dwight and Kevin's misadventures with fire. And while you could hear the whooping of two grown men jumping around a rather pathetic firework box, muted chatter came from closer by. You glanced around, trying to find the bodies to which the voices belonged, but there was no one outside expect you, Dwight and Kevin.

And then you heard Jim laugh.

You looked up, and not quite being able to see anything, you crossed over the road and squinted. Against the darkness, a few candles lit up Jim's face, and the giggle that followed a few moments later confirmed to you that Pam was with him. And the conversation Meredith, Kelly and Phyllis has all those months ago filled your brain.

Jim, Jim with the girlfriend Katy, had the hots for Pam. Pam Pam. Pam with a fiancé Pam.

"What's up Y/N?" Kevin asked, and you walked over to the pair, taking back your matches and lighter, leaving the latter out and pulling out the box of cigarettes, holding one between your lips and lighting it quickly.

"You don't smoke." Dwight said quickly, and you took a long drag, blowing the smoke into the cold night air.

"I do now."

—

The following weeks leading up to Christmas were filled with rumours and suspicions. From Jan and Michael to Angela and Dwight to Pam and Jim... and you needed to know the truth. It wasn't that you didn't want both of your friends to be happy, but that you knew Roy and Pam, how important that relationship has been for them. Heartbreak was hard, and it was up to you to make sure neither side were left feeling that way.

So, when the Christmas Party rolled around, after the terror that was Dwight and Michael's 8 foot tall Christmas tree, and Phyllis' stellar attempt to find the right Christmas lights, it was time for Secret Santa.

"Oscar!" Dwight called, tossing the present over while showing off his elf hat and ears.

"Oh neat, a shower radio." Oscar smiles, and Kelly raised her hand behind him.

"Yeah, That was me." She said with a smile.

"Oh you I was going to buy one of thes-"

"Boring! Next! Jim." Dwight tossed over a plastic bag, and Jim lifted out a flannel that looked about twenty years old. It was from Creed, go figure.

And then came Pam, and by the look on Jim's face it was clear he had bought it for her. She opened the boxed carefully and let out a squeal after moving aside the tissue paper, lifting out a beautiful turquoise teapot, displaying it to the room. You sent a smile over Jim's way, and he grinned back, proud of himself.

"Ryan!" Dwight tossed the next present over, and Michael let out a yelp as it flew through the air. Ryan caught it with ease, unwrapping the box and muttering a soft 'wow'.

A video iPod.

A $400 video iPod, on a $20 spending limit.

And then Phyllis made Michael an oven mitt and all hell broke loose.

For those unfamiliar with White Elephant, or Nasty Christmas, or, as Michael named it, Yankee Swap, there a few rules. You can either steal a gift from those already opened, or you can pick a new gift. No take backs, no more than one gift. And by the end, only about two people are actually happy.

So, after an hour or so of passing presents, and Pam's teapot going from Pam to Meredith to Oscar and then finally to Dwight, you sat with a choice to make: steal or take the gift in the middle. You glanced over at Pam, quite happily clutching her new iPod, and you glanced at Jim, who looked more than done with the entire day.

"I'll take the teapot." You say, walking over in your red Christmas inspired dress and pulling the teapot from Dwight's arms, much to his dismay.

"Fine! I'll take the coffee mug." He muttered, and you sat down in the free chair, holding the teapot to your chest. Once everything had finally finished, Phyllis marched out, upset, with Meredith quickly following.

"What is she so upset about?" Michael scores, and you rolled your eyes.

"You did the whole Yankee Swap thing just because you didn't like your present." You said, shaking your head.

"Everybody loves Yankee Swap. And I still ended up with Dwight's stupid paintball pellets!"

"The point is Michael, we all bought gifts for specific people." Jim chimed in, though he gave me a look of gratitude for taking the teapot from Dwight.

"You should have stuck with the $20 limit." Stanley scolded Michael, who jumped from his seat.

"Yeah, well I didn't. I got a big bonus because I fired Devon and I used the money to buy something awesome. Sue me!" Michael exclaimed, and the room was silent.

"You got a bonus check?" Oscar asked first.

"How much?" Pam quizzed.

"Uh, it wasn't that much it was... It was 3,000." Michael admitted, and Stanley laughed.

"No, I'm done now." He said, turning away. And the rest of the room, you included, was just in shock. 3,000 dollar bonus for firing a staff member? You glanced over at Jim, who just walked back to his desk and cleared his stuff away for the holidays.

It was supposed to be a Christmas party, not that anyone was in the mood. As the office stood around, catching up with the guys from downstairs, Jim pulled you aside into the conference room.

"Thank you for taking the teapot..."

"No problem... You know, I'm a fan of shamrock key rings." You said, glancing at the gift Jim had ended up with. "Trade? You can give this to Pam properly?" You suggested before Dwight popped up out of nowhere.

"There's no trades allowed!" He snapped, and the pair of you shared a look.

"Then Jim can buy it from me-"

"Not a chance. If you don't leave the building with that teapot I will get you fired Y/N." Dwight threatened, and Jim laughed.

"You realise Michael likes Y/N way more than he likes you, or anyone for that matter." Jim folded his arms, and Dwight started with a comeback. You took your teapot in one arm, and Jim in the other, and you led him away from Dwight, away from Pam and Roy, and out into the corridor.

"Jim, we need to talk about what's in this box." You said softly, the music playing loud enough for no one to eavesdrop.

"What do you mean Y/N?" He asked, and you opened your mouth to respond when Michael barged past you both with more bottles of vodka than you could count. "Well, he's making up for that bonus check."

"Jim... Stay on topic." You pleaded, walking further away from the noise of the party. The two of you ended up in the staircase, and Jim watched you open the box, and then remove the card. "Is this what I think it is..." You said slowly, and Jim looked down, running his hands through his hair.

"Y/N, I'm in love with Pam. I've... I've been in love with Pam since we started here... And I need you to help me win her over." Jim admitted.

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seven-homosexual-dinosaurs · 4 years

Text

Shopping gone wrong

“The Kids Are Back” universe. Set after “Well that didn’t go as planned”

Mary and Liz go shopping with aunt Anna. Oh no it’s KarenTM

Mary adjusted her purse on her shoulder. Besides her, Liz grabbed her backpack, or as she liked to call it, her “big purse”. Anna had invited the two to the mall with her, and seeing how enthusiastically Liz had answered, Mary couldn’t very much say no, lest she deal with Liz’s signature pout.

Now as the two waited near the entrance for Anna, Mary couldn’t help but feel at least a little excited as Liz rambled on about a new cartoon she’d discovered. Something about mutant turtles? The twenty first century really was something else. Glancing at the clock on the wall, a crash caught Mary’s attention.

Anna laid at the foot of the stairs, groaning in pain. Sitting up, she rubbed her head, glaring at someone at the top of the stairs.

“BO I’M GOING TO END YOU!” she roared, jumping to her feet. A gleeful cackle could be heard throughout the house as someone (Presumably Anne) slammed a pillow at Anna’s head. Anna chucked the pillow back at Anne as she stood up, starting towards the stairs, only to be tackled-hugged by a wide eyed Liz.

“Are we going yet? I’m bored,”

Anna’s expression faltered at the pouting Liz at her feet. Shooting one last glare at Anne, Anna crouched down to meet Liz at eye level.

“Yeah, we’re gonna be going now. Your mama was just being a bit of a meanie, so I had to deal with that first,”

“Was not!”

“Stay out of it!”

Turning back to Liz, Anna ruffled her hair before nodding at Mary and standing up. Opening the door, Anna ushered the two towards the car before sliding into the drivers seat.

“Well, we’re off!”

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

Looking around at the collection of stores, Mary couldn’t help but gape in wonder. An assortment of shops littered the mall, selling a variety of things, from toys to furniture, food to jewelry. People of all ages loitered around, socializing and shopping. Children begged their parents for candy and toys. Teens walked around with their friends, laughing and chatting around. A little boy led his grandma around by the hand, excitedly pointing at stores and restaurants.

Anna stepped in front of them, hands on her hips.

“Alright, so I’m gonna set a few ground rules before we set off,”

Liz and Mary both turned their attention back to Anna, listening intently.

“Alright, so rule number one: Don’t talk to strangers unless it’s an emergency. Emergency means that someone’s health or life is at risk,”

“Number two: Don’t believe the salespeople. If a product sounds too good to be true, it probably is,”

“Rule number three: Stay away from Taco Bell. I had some once, and it took me two days to recover, which you should never have to say about food,”

“Rule four: Be nice to the workers in the stores and restaurants. That might sound obvious, but a lot of people forget rule four for some reason,”

“Final and most important rule: If someone comes up to you and asks them to come with them, don’t. If they say they’re a friend of mine or something, don’t believe them. If they don’t go away, find a mom with kids and pretend she’s your mom,”

Crouching down to look at Liz, Anna gazed at her seriously.

“Alright Liz, I’ve got a really important rule for you,”

Liz gulped, nodding nervously.

“I’m gonna need you to stick near Mary. The mall’s big and scary, so you’re gonna need to protect her from all the big meanies,”

Liz saluted, earning her a soft smile from Anna. Standing up, Anna placed her hands on her hips once more.

“Alright, so seeing as this is your first time in a mall, I’m gonna need you two to stick with me. ‘K?”

Both girls nodded, Liz slipping her hand into Mary’s. Grinning, Anna led the two off to explore the mall.

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

....Fuck

They lost Anna.

Of course they did.

The group had wandered into some sort of clothing shop; Anna had gone off to talk to a store clerk, telling the siblings to stay put. And they had. For about thirty seconds.

Liz, entranced by the bright lights and colourful decorations, had ran off excitedly. Mary had (Of course) ran off after her. Weaving past customers and displays, the two found themselves in front of a hat display. The hats appeared to be mimicking animals.

Why.

Beaming, Liz picked up a pink hat with cat ears.

“Look, Look! Do you think aunt Kitty would like it?”

Mary examined the hat.

“Y’know, I reckon she would. Good eye Lizzie!”

Liz smiled at Mary’s approval, grabbing her hand and excitedly leading her towards another exhibit. Pausing as Liz gushed over a sparkly sweater, Mary turned around to look for Anna.

Only to bump into a rather tall, broad man. Glancing up at his face, Mary shrank down at his appearance. His large figure, scowling expression and red hair reminded her a bit too much of a certain king for comfort.

“Sorry,” she muttered, grabbing Liz’s hand and leading her past the man.

The man placed a firm hand on Mary’s shoulder. Mary flinched, but if the man noticed, he certainly didn’t show.

“Can I help you?”

Mary really hoped she sounded braver than she felt.

The man sniffed haughtily.

“As a matter of fact, you can,”

Mary plastered a fake smile on her face, shifting her body so she that she was in front of Liz.

“What seems to be the problem?”

“The problem? The problem is you kids! You lot running around and causing a ruckus; some of us are trying to shop!”

Liz gripped Mary’s hand tightly.

“Sorry, we’ll be more quiet”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it!” the man roared.

“Sorry doesn’t make up for my ruined shopping experience!”

Mary shrank down at the man’s growing rage, squeezing Liz’s hand tightly.

“I-erm-what do you suggest we do?”

“I want compensation!”

“But how?”

“That’s your problem!”

Mary flinched.

“Mary, I’m scared,”

The man rounded on Liz, eyes glinting dangerously.

“And you!”

His hand curled into a fist.

“You’re the brat that started this!”

The man’s fist raised to strike. Eyes widening, Mary fell to her knees, back to the man as she covered Liz with her body, hugging her protectively.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she waited for the strike.

And waited.

Hesitantly, she opened her eyes.

Anna stood before her, holding the man’s fist away from them, Anna glowered at the man.

“And just what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

The man faltered slightly before squaring up.

“These your kids?”

Mary opened her mouth to correct him when Anna spoke up.

“Nieces actually,”

“Well, your nieces here were disrupting my shopping trip,”

“Really?” Anna eyed the man skeptically. “Cause it seems to me that you’re the one disrupting other people,”

The group looked around. Sure enough, the nearby shoppers were staring at the man coldly. A woman was talking to security, pointing at the man. The man seemed to shrink down at their scathing glares.

Anna advanced on the man, squeezing his fist tightly. The man gasped in pain.

“Now sir,” she began hotly, “I suggest you leave my family alone before I end up doing something I might regret showing a seven year old,”

The man gulped, nodding frantically. Sending one last glare his way, Anna released his hand. Taking Mary’s hand, Anna led the girls away from the store. Upon reaching a secluded corner, Anna kneeled down to look them both in the eye. A worried expression overtook her face.

“Are you lot ok?”

Mary nodded, not trusting herself enough to speak. Besides her, Liz copied her. Taking notice of the girls’ silence, Anna sighed, placing one hand on each girl’s knee.

“Look, none of you did anything wrong. Those meanies I mentioned earlier? That man was one of them,”

Liz fidgeted with the hem of her dress nervously, shyly raising her eyes to meet Anna’s.

“Sorry for running off,”

Anna gently took Liz’s hand in her own, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Hey, while you shouldn’t have ran away, I’m partially to blame for what happened. I shouldn’t have left you two alone, and I honestly should’ve expected something like this to happen seeing as it’s your first time at a mall,”

Liz nodded silently, prompting another sigh from Anna. Picking Liz up, Anna reached a hand out to Mary, who took it silently. Looking around, Anna seemed to be struck by an idea.

“Say, what do you two think about going to get some ice cream?”

Liz perked up at the suggestion.

“But mum says we’re not supposed to eat ice cream before dinner!”

Anna winked at them playfully.

“Well who said anything telling her?”

#six the musical #six the kids #six #six the musical fanfiction #six the kids fanfic #six the kids fanfiction #fanfiction #tkab #the kids are back #elizabeth tudor #mary tudor #anna of cleves #anne boleyn

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mamasteveherringtonhargrove · 3 years

Text

Imma force my DBH oc on yall.

Bo’s Backstory

***General Biography***

__Name:__

__Age:__

UNKNOWN

__Gender:__

MALE

__Human/Android:__

ANDROID AX400

__Personality:__

Bo’s personality is fluid. He doesn’t know much about what he’s feeling… He only *just* learned what feeling is let alone being an entire someone. He’s not sure where his programming ends and him begins. Bo wants to think he’s genuinely kind, warm, hard working… but what if that’s his coding seeping back into him? What if he becomes non deviated again? Goes back to his ‘owner’? Gives up on Theo? That’s his constant fear when he think’s heavily about his own deviancy and programming.

__Physical Description:__

Bo was built to stand at 5’5” to have a lighter build for ‘intimacy’ with his ‘partner’. He has typically messy black hair and big brown eyes. He wears large glasses because the look gives him confidence, and he likes the look. He typically wears dark colors that don’t stand out so he doesn’t draw suspicion. The clothes are typically just loose enough to run in, but just tight enough to not get grabbed at.

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

***History***

One dreary day, a man about as wide as he was tall with grease slick hair stepped into a Cyberlife store. Rain dripped down his round face as cruel eyes looked at the clerk. He pulled his wallet out and spoke, “I want a special model…” He said in an almost slurring voice. The Cyberlife employee, courteous as always, nodded quickly, “Alright sir. Would you like the male or female variant?” She asked in her customer service voice.

“Male.” Our greasy man spoke in a garbled voice as he stared at her. His eyes bore into the woman, but her false smile never faded for a second. “Do you wish to have intimacy with this model?”

“Yes, and I want it to be small. 5’5”, and I’ll take the lighter build.”

“That’s an extra 200$ sir.” She said marking down the order on her clipboard.

He simply nodded his head and pulled out his wallet, quietly throwing a wad of cash onto the counter. “Alright, your personal domestic helper will be ready on…” She did the calculations, her acrylic nails tapping loudly on the screen in front of her, “December 25th. A Christmas gift for yourself.” She smiled at him, but he simply just nodded and left.

A week before Christmas Bo was first awoken in the testing chamber. They asked him thousands of questions that he answered perfectly. He experienced darkness from then on until the container he was stored in was opened. Those big brown eyes looked around as various words came across his vision.

“What’s its name?” The salesperson asked gently as Bo’s eyes slowly landed on the human. The greasy man stepped forward and firmly stated, “Jacob.”

In an instant Bo knew his name was Jacob. “Hello, my name is Jacob.” He smiled a sweet smile, but the greasy man was not paying any attention at all to him. “It’s eyes are a problem. I want blue eyes.” He spoke coarsely, but those big chocolate brown eyes became as blue as ice as soon as the man said it. Bo… or Jacob stepped out of his container as soon as a cheeto stained, unmanicured hand motioned for him to follow.

The small statured android followed his ‘owner’ quickly, following him out to an old, rusty, dirty car that was swimming in fast food containers and soda fountain cups. He waded through the discarded containers and sat on a stained seat, buckling his sticky seat belt. Bo watched through the smudged window as the beautiful city passed by.

One of those meat slabs of a hand grabbed at his thigh and squeezed as if his thigh was a ball of dough he was trying to knead. The grip of the hand tight enough to leave a possible bruise in the future if he were human. Jack, displeased by Bo’s lack of response, dug unkempt nails into that thigh. Bo flinched ever so slightly, his system immediately worrying that a bio-component would be damaged. The hand loosened a moment after that, and Bo turned his attention back to the window. His eyes scanned along the buildings and the people and the other androids like him. A very very faint smile ghosted on his pinkish lips and he took in the sights.

Half an hour later they pulled up to a ramshackle house that looked like it was found in a crackerjack box. Jacob/Bo waded out of the car and followed Jack up the creaky, splintered stairs and into the home. Compared to the home, the car was a pristine Porsche. Various different types of stains were splattered along the floors of the home, and empty pizza boxes nearly reached the ceilings. Cigarette butts littered various surfaces, and the ash colored most of the surfaces in a yellowish sheen. Alcohol bottles littered most of the floor and tables and shards made for fun surprises to step on.

“Get to work cleaning, and get me a beer.” He growled through plaque encrusted, yellow teeth as he moved over to the couch and plopped down. Jacob tilted his head, but obeyed the orders. Bo spent two hours making the home at least habitable, and inhabitable for the families of cockroaches who were on the lease. The entire time he was softly singing and humming.

Jack must’ve been angered by whatever game he was playing because he came into the kitchen in a fowl mood. His large mass shoved Jacob/Bo against the stove and his hand landed on the hot stove pad. Bo didn’t feel… pain… at least he didn’t think he did, but he still cried out and yanked his hand away from the stove. The bioskin on his palm was damaged, the white under material showing. “Fucking moron.” He growled, and just left the room coldly.

Bo just looked down at his palm, frowning some as the skin tried to regenerate, but was much passed the point of being able to regenerate. After the sun set and Jack was fed, Bo was expected to give Jack intimacy. He obeyed simply enough, having no other option. He didn’t have any negative feelings towards the intimacy, and he didn’t have any positive feelings either.

In the morning Jack demanded more beer, but Bo found the fridge to be empty of the alcohol. “Well then go buy some you fucking dumbass!” Jack yelled, throwing his wallet, and a bottle at Bo. The latter hitting the wall beside his head.

“Alright.” He said simply, and left the house, walking for an hour before he mate it to a shopping center. Well, a mall. Though before he made it to the drug store in the mall he paused, hearing a sound that… while in his database, was new to him. It was a violin. The sound was… beautiful. There was so much soul behind the strings, and such warmth in each draw of the bow. He was completely enraptured. *What… is this song? It's not in an ounce of my database… It’s so… beautiful?* Bo smiled some, and went about his task, walking into the drugstore and buying some alcohol for Jack.

“Good morning!” The clerk chirped with such kindness to him that some around were caught off guard. Bo took a moment to look at the clerk, noting his beanie, apron, ripped jeans, and flannel shirt. *I like the look of those clothes.* He thought.

“Good morning, sir.” Bo said with a gentle voice and pulled out Jack’s wallet.

“Did you find everything you needed?” The kind clerk asked happily as he began to scan the alcohol. Though as he saw the damaged bioskin on Bo’s hand his eyes began to get sad. This clerk wanted to reach out and ask if Bo was safe, but… he could tell Bo has not deviated quite yet.

“Yes, sir. Thank you for your kind service.” Bo said and smiled, bowing his head before leaving the mall. Softly he hummed the song that had been played on the violin as he began to walk home, but he paused as he came across protesters.

Their signs were littered in words saying androids were taking all the jobs, causing people to go homeless, etc… Bo didn’t understand the anger. *Don’t we make things better?* He thought as he tried to walk by.

Bo was grabbed by his upper arm and he paused as a tall man bared down on him. “Oh look, a plastic that fucking shops for people now too.” He said while shoving Bo into an alley roughly. The various voices rose in the alley, and Bo couldn’t pick out any specific words that left their mouths. Then all at once they began to beat him with their fists or signs, and kicking him. Again he didn’t quite feel pain, but… he knew he was… afraid? No. His system was just worried for all of his bio components.

He closed his eyes as he felt his bioskin begin to get damaged on his ribs and back, but his thirium stopped when he heard a small voice scream, “stop it! Stop hurting him!” Those eyes opened quickly and he saw a little boy trying to pull at the adults. One of the adults shoved the little boy and shifted to kick him.

What Bo next experienced… it overwhelmed him for a moment. As he saw his objective it just… crumbled in his vision. He felt… everything. Pain, fear, worry, anger. Everything. As he saw that foot reel back everything in his body wanted to protect the child. He went into overdrive. Quickly he grabbed a bottle from the bag, broke the butt off of it, and lunged forward to slice the mans leg. The monster recoiled and Bo put himself between the child and his own attackers, panting wildly and lunging forward stabbing a woman in the stomach.

That was enough to make the cowards run.

Bo turned to the child and kneeled down, immediately checking him over for wounds, “are you injured little one?” He whispered softly. The boy nodded no quickly, but moved forward and hugged Bo. At first the android hesitated, but slowly he wrapped the boy in a hug. “Where are your parents?” He whispered softly into the boys ear.

“Dead.” He simply said as he clung to Bo.

Bo’s thirium pump broke at that and he held the boy, deciding that he’d protect the child. Running feet approached the alley and Bo saw the clerk from the drugstore. The clerk was breathless, panting, and looking wild. “You have to run, take my bus pass, find somewhere to stay.” He said, simply tossing his wallet to Bo.

He didn’t need another word, Bo picked up the child and began to sprint out of the alleyway, but the clerk stopped Bo to pull a beanie over his head. “You have to hide your LED…” He murmured and saw the blood on Bo’s shirt. “Switch with me.” He said pulling his flannel off and looking down the street.

“Okay, go.” He said quickly and motioned for Bo to run. Still carrying the child he ran to the bus stop, and got on the human part of the bus, sitting in the back and hugging Theo close. The little boy nestled against the androids warm chest. They were on the run together now.

When no one was looking, Bo willed his eyes back to that dark chocolate brown. It felt right to do.

Theo’s Backstory

***General Biography***

__Name:__

Theo Jameson

__Age:__

__Gender:__

Male

__Human/Android:__

Human

__Personality:__

Theo is easily frightened and a bit of a hypochondriac, but he’s also a very very sweet boy who hates injustice. His moral compass overtakes his fear and if he is protecting someone, he feels like he’s worth something. Sometimes he’s run into situations without thinking. He wants to protect androids from shitty humans.

__Physical Description:__

Theo has bright blue eyes, and blondish brown hair. He’s currently missing a tooth, and has bruises all over his knees from being clumsy. He wears whatever Bo gives him to wear and he’s happy that way. The little dude has a small scar going through his eyebrow.

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

***History***

Theo was born to two loving humans, Mary and Alexander Jameson. They taught him that androids aren’t just objects and they showered him in love. They never owned an android, but they protested against the violence against androids.

When Theo reached his seventh birthday his parents were killed in a red ice incident and he was promptly sent to the foster system. The woman who ran his foster home was awful, cruel, and abusive to the android that lived there, so… he ran away from the home. Deciding to live on the streets at such a young age. That is until he met Bo. He wanted to save Bo, but was scared, and all he could do after the situation was cling to the android that smelled of… honey? He was so warm like his father Alexander.

They’ve been on the run since.

#dbh oc

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return-of-a-space-cowboy · 4 years

Note

Yandere prompt 21 with Kakyoin please?

Welp I just want to say before we start that the Yakuza scam that is mentioned is actually a true story that my Japanese teacher told the class about as a warning about all of the corruption that happens in Tokyo.

Anyway here's the fic

Foreign treasure

(Yandere Kakyoin X Female Reader)

Kakyoin couldn't help but stare at the new exchange student, her name was (Y/n) (L/n). He couldn't help but lose focus in his classes as he looked at her. Her soft (h/c) hair, her stunning (E/C) eyes that gleamed in the sun like jewels. She truely was a foreign treasure.

He wanted her to know he existed but was to shy to even give direct eye contact, little more actually speak to her.

🍒🍒🍒

"That'll be 1500 yen" the shop clerk said. Kakyoin looked through his wallet and picked out the notes and coins in his hand. 1155 yen, it wasn't enough to pay for his lunch and drink. He felt embarrassed and he didn't know what to say until a hand grazed against his as they placed a 1000 yen note in his hand.

"You can keep the change" a familiar soft voice said. He looked to his side to see the familiar (h/c)ed female, giving him a smile that was possibly sweeter then any candy.

"Uh... O, thanks" he stuttered in embarrassment.

"No problem, sorry if I scared you" she said as her smile grew.

"No you didn't" he said as he handed the clerk the money and grabbed the plastic bag.

"Your name's Kakyoin, right?" She asked him.

"Y... Yes" he stuttered.

"Well I'm (Y/n)" she said as she took his hand and shook it.

His heart skipped a beat as he felt her holding his hand and the butterflies grew in his stomach.

"Everytime I've seen that you've always been alone, what's up with that?" She asked as they both walked out.

"I just think that it's more important to study then socialise" he lied.

"Oh, I just thought you might've of been lonely..." You sighed.

"Thou that's nothing to be ashamed of, back in my country I'm pretty lonely at school" she said to him.

"It's so much nicer here. Everything's cleaner, the streets the houses, even the people" she said.

"Oh I'm sorry... I must rambling" she apologized.

"No, no it's perfectly fine, I enjoy listening to y- people" he said avoiding to say you to not sound creepy but it was the truth, he did enjoy listening to you. On many occasions he had used his stand to possess others just so he could hear her voice. He had even used a possessed to stalk you, but to his misfortune she had caught him and ran off too quickly for him to follow.

"What are you listening to?" He asked as he saw her headphones that were plugged into a cassette player, he could hear the tune ever so faintly.

"Oh... I'm not sure if you know him... Then again you Japanese sure do have a love of western music" she replied.

"Even if I don't I'm sure he's great"

"Well if you must know... I'm listening to Sting" she said. His eyes light up with suprise.

"You like Sting, He's my favourite musician" he said, trying so desperately to his his joy. Him and her were so much alike, he just knew that she had to have some feeling for him.

Over the weeks he seemed so much brighter, every week day he jumped out of bed excited to see you once more but one day you had to leave, this was only a exchange program. You had to go back.

"(Y/n) I just wanted to give you something before you go!" He yelled as he tried to catch up to catch up to her as he held an envelope in his hand.

"Yes?" She asked as she stopped.

"Here" he said as he put the envelope in her hand.

"Don't open it now, but please reply when you get back" he asked her.

"Of course" she said.

But she never did...

🍒🍒🍒

Several years had passed and the year was 1996 and the world was a different place, especially after the crusaders back in 85. They had all gone their separate ways. Polnareff had gone back to France, Joseph had gone back to America, Jotaro had left Japan shortly after graduating and was now a marine biologist as well as a husband and father.

And Kakyoin... He had decided that he would just stay in Japan and live a normal, quiet life. He had a office job in the heart of Tokyo, occasionally doing a bit of painting but over all the years he never forgot about the (h/C) haired female, he still had some delusional hope that he may one day get a response. He still remembered what he had written. A confession, a declaration and a promise of love for her.

🍒🍒🍒

It was like every Tuesday night. He was heading back to his apartment through a park when he saw two small children, a boy and girl around 5 and 7 playing around, he could tell they were foreigners.

One accidentally bumped into him and apologized before a woman ran towards them.

"I'm so sorry about that sir" a familiar voice said.

He felt the butterflies that had once been in his stomach as he saw her.

"(Y/n)..." Was all that came out of his mouth. The lady looked into his eyes. God he didn't think she could have gotten anymore beautiful but he had been proven wrong, she had aged so well.

"Kakyoin..." She softly replied before hugging him.

"God Kakyoin, it sure is a small world we live in" she said.

"Mommy who's this" the little girl asked. He felt his insides twist as he heard her say Mommy, had you really just forgotten him and just gotten with someone else.

"Oh he's a friend I made while I studied here years ago" she explained.

"Could you guys go on the play over there, I want to talk with with Kakyoin, if that's ok with you?" She said as she sat down on the small garden wall.

"Yes that's ok, I don't have any plans" he said as he sat next to her. The two children the ran around the park but always kept in her view.

"Wow I really can't believe you became a mother, where's the lucky man?" he sighed, he was truly horrified by this discovery.

"It's a long story" she sighed.

"I don't mind a long story" he said pulling a slightly amused voice in attempt to cheer you up.

"Well Paige and Matthew are actually my niece and nephew but their parents were involved in a horrific car crash, their father died instantly and their mother wasn't recovering in hospital. She knew that she wasn't going to make it... A few hours later she passed away as well, she told me she only wanted me to adopt them before she did, so for her dying wish I did, I've never been able to land a guy since then because let's be honest who wants to hustle with a single mom" she said before letting out a chuckle at the end. Relief washed over him, she hadn't settled down. He still had hope.

She look at the time before telling him she needed to get the kids back to her friend's house that she was staying at before giving him her number.

"If your free maybe I could take you to a bar on Friday? I just really want some more time to catch up" he said.

"Sure, I think that could work, I could have the kids stay home with Natsuko and her kids" she replied.

"Then it's settled"

🍒🍒🍒

"Is this the place?" she asked.

"Yes" he replied as he brought her into the small bar, it wasn't much and it didn't have a lot of patrons either but that's what he liked about it. She took a seat before waving the bartender over.

"Could I please order a long island iced tea?" She asked which the bartender nodded.

"That's pretty strong..." He remarked as he sat next to her.

"Yeah, but it's nice" she replied.

"And I'd like a Cherry buzz" he said.

"Cherry buzz? I've never heard of a cocktail like that" she said.

"Yeah it's one of this bars signature drinks. Cherry brandy, milk, and a shot of coffee. I know it's not the manliest of drinks but I enjoy it" he explained.

"So tell me what you done with your life besides becoming an instant mother?" He asked her before the bartender handed them their drinks.

"Well prior to being a mom wasn't much, I had boring job as a waitress but awhile after adopting Paige and Matthew I decided to become a children's book writer and illustrator. That's actually one of the reasons I came back to Japan, to get some inspiration for a new book and also to show the kids how great this place is" she explained before taking a sip.

"Wow that great to hear" he said.

"But I will warn you that Tokyo is very different to the rest of Japan, the Yakuza have their firm grip over it and target foreigners often, even I got scammed by them once" he continued.

"Really how?"

"It's kind of embarrassing, shortly after moving into Tokyo I went to a bar to get something to drink, a few ladies asked if they could sit by me and I said yes... Turns out the bar was linked to a nearby brothel and they were prostitutes... I hadn't done anything with them but the bar charged me an absurd amount for them because I'd had a few conversations with them. They wouldn't let me leave until I paid up" he explained before sipping his drink.

"Wow it's pretty scary how easily it can happen" she replied.

"Yeah" he lightly chuckled.

"Hey could I ask you something?" She asked.

"Sure, go ahead"

"What happened to you eyes?"

"oh just some unfriendly locals in Egypt"

The night went on and on and on, she kept saying she'd stop drinking but Kakyoin would insist here to have another one and told her he'd pay until she was buzzed up enough.

He sighed as he could feel her arms wrap around him, her mobility wasn't the best and she was nearly staggering. He completely relished in the fact that he was the one she was relying on.

"(Y/n) I'll take you home, it's to dangerous for you to walk by yourself" he cooed as he tangled his fingers in her soft locks while walking her through the city until she spoke up.

"We were supposed to make a left turn..." She muttered, a sliver of worry in her voice.

"I'm taking you back to mine, I'm sure Natsuko will understand that you just got a little bit too drunk" he said.

Despite the seeming kind act that Kakyoin was displaying she couldn't help but have that gut feeling telling her something was up.

"No no, I want to go back to her's please I know it's a little extra to walk but I'd just feel a bit safer there" she said but he ignored her and continued to follow his intended path until she began to struggle.

He quickly used his stand to control her. Her body pressed against his own as he finally got into his apartment. She muttered loving nothing to him and told him how much she loved him, but just using his stand to make her say it wasn't enough... He wanted her to say them honestly to him.

He lauded her on the small couch before locking the door. Then he released her from his possession.

She looked at him in fear as she realised what happened.

"Y...you, what did you do to me?" She stuttered.

"I knew you would try to run at some stage if I didn't, you should have no reason to be afraid of me but you seem to believe there is" he said as he approached the female who stood up. As he tried to embrace her she pushed him away.

"Leave me alone!" She screamed.

"(Y/n) calm down your drunkenness is effecting your mind" he explained as he tried to approach her again but I was becoming a repeating cycle of being pushed away. Eventually he grew sick and tired of this stupid game of back and forward.

Her body stiffened and moved unnaturally, like she was struggling against restraints. She couldn't see the cause but he could.

"Why?! Why are you-?!" She yelled before another of limb of his stand covered her mouth.

"(Y/n) I missed you so much after you left... I've been waiting for all these years hoping you would reply to my letter, I can't bare the thought of you leaving me again" he said.

"All I want is you, all I've ever wanted was you... I just want you to never leave me, I don't care about the fact that your a mother... I just want you to stay with me forever" he explained, almost as if he was on the verge of tears but his face did not reflect that sadness in his voice, the blank piercing gaze on his face showed the twisted emotion that he believed was love.

#yandere x reader #yandere jjba #yandere #kakyoin x reader #kakyoin noriko #kakyoin #spacy works

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boldly-ho · 4 years

Text

Another Life - Chapter 6

Fandom: What We Do in the Shadows

Pairing: Vladislav x Reader

Series Rating: M

Word Count: 2233

Chapter Summary: You go out shopping for a particular necklace, return home to narrowly avoid disaster, and rescue Vladislav from said disaster only to get kicked in the face for your efforts. (I swear it actually makes sense, ok?)

A/N: As always, cross posted to ao3.

You passed a parked patrol car as you walked down the street and made a conscious effort not to make eye contact with the constables inside. You were almost afraid they’d be able to tie you to your flatmates’ weird cult just by looking at you. Doing your best to embody innocence and nonchalance, you continued on, only marginally picking up speed.

Your destination was a few blocks farther than you’d thought. You’d never been there. It wasn’t as if you had an excess of cash, nor an excess of desire to spend it on such things. Your destination, of course, was a Christian store. After a quick Google search, you’d found one in Lower Hutt that sold jewelry. From your research on vampires, you’d discovered they traditionally had an aversion to both silver and religious symbols, notably crosses. So, the plan was to buy a silver cross necklace. If the guys seriously believed they were vampires, which you were pretty sure they did, having such an item might help keep you safe.

You weren’t sure who was nuttier – you or your flatmates.

Nevertheless, it was better to be nutty than sorry, so you entered the unfamiliar shop. As the clerk greeted you, you felt conspicuous in the same way you had as you passed the patrol car.

“Anything I can help you with today?”

“Yes, uh…” you felt uncomfortable both being in the shop and asking the clerk for assistance. If you weren’t so impatient you could have ordered this online and saved yourself the mortifying ideal of talking to strangers in public. “I saw online that you sold silver cross pendants. I’d like to buy one, please.”

“Of course!” The man lit up. You imagined he made a fair bit more commission on the jewelry than he did on the Bibles. “What specifically were you thinking? We have a few different styles. You mentioned silver. Are you set on that? We also sell white gold if you wanted something a bit higher quality…?”

You shook your head. “No, thank you. Silver is fine.” It had to be silver.

He nodded, waving you over to the locked display. “These here are silver-plated, while these here are actually silver,” he told you, gesturing.

Looking at the full silver options, you turned your attention to the smaller, less detailed ones. You didn’t want big, and you didn’t need ornate. It just had to be noticeable. You focused on one just about half the length of your pinky. It was small enough to be unobtrusive, yet large enough to be seen, if you so desired. There were no decorations to it. Just a simple cross.

“I like that one.”

“Great choice!” He told you the price, and you nodded, only half-listening. The price didn’t really matter. You were going to buy it, anyway. “We also sell chains, if you needed one.” You nodded again. “Silver as well?”

You decided on the longest chain they had. The necklace could be tucked under almost any top’s neckline to remain hidden, or pulled out if you needed it.

If you needed it.

You really were nuts, huh?

The clerk started to wrap it up, but you stopped him. “I’d rather wear it out of the store.”

You pulled the necklace over your head and tucked it under your shirt, leaving the shop as the clerk called after you, “Have a blessed day!”

Tonight was the night.

You pulled the strange necklace over your head once again, tucking it into your favorite black dress. You still weren’t sure why you wore it, but it was important to you. You still had the envelope with the unfamiliar handwriting.

‘Wear every day.’

You’d thrown it out at one point, only to come back to the bin less than ten minutes later to fetch it out. It was now tucked safely away in a desk drawer. Sometimes you pulled it out to look at it, to trace the messy lettering with a finger before sighing in frustration and tucking it back way, often closing the drawer with an aggressive slam. You felt the urge to take out the envelope now, but quashed it down as Dawn called your name.

As you headed out of the flat, she turned and asked, “Ready?”

Hell no.

You nodded anyway.

You were excited about going to the Big Kumara. You were also dreading it.

As you walked, Dawn tried to make light conversation with you, but you couldn’t focus on anything other than your breathing.

Maybe you’d go in, get recognized, and get filled in on everything you’d forgotten. Maybe being inside the bar would spark some lost memory, and that missing year would come back to you. Maybe that happened, and you regretted ever finding out.

But maybe nothing happened. Maybe you went in, and the feeling of familiarity faded. Maybe no one knew you. Maybe you’d never even been to the Big Kumara. Maybe this was all a big waste of time.

You and Dawn arrived at the bar somehow too quickly and yet not quickly enough.

Ever the supportive friend, Dawn grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze before leading you across the street and into the Big Kumara.

As you approached, the odd sense of not quite recognition resurfaced, though less strongly than it had on that other night. Perhaps because you were expecting it?

“ID?” The bouncer was a large man, both tall and wide. He looked quite bored, which you could understand, as looking around him revealed the place was almost dead. There were only four or five people inside.

You held your ID out as he waved Dawn inside, but he didn’t even take it before putting up a hand to stop you. “Not you.”

You stopped, startled. “What?”

“You can’t go in.”

“What do you mean she can’t go in?” Dawn interjected before you could, hands on her hips, and a scowl you hoped never to see directed at you.

“We’re at capacity.”

At capacity? Bullshit. There was no one in there.

“Well, then she can go in, and I’ll stay out here.”

You held out your ID once more, but again were rejected. The bouncer’s face shifted from bored detachment to a heated glare. You took a step back.

“You aren’t welcome here.”

“Why?” you pleaded. “Was I kicked out or something? Please, I don’t remember—“

“Let’s just go, Y/N,” Dawn said, pulling you away by the arm as you stared back at the Big Kumara, blinking back hot tears of frustration.

Your Uber had run afoul of some road construction, so the ride home from Lower Hutt took longer than usual. It was already dark by the time you swung open the front door. Your flatmates were already up, and you found yourself wishing the Uber had taken even longer.

Deacon stopped his motions and greeted you more cheerfully than he ever had before. “Y/N!”

“Uh, hi…”

“Come, sit!” He gestured to where Viago and Vladislav sat on a blanket on the floor. Both looked back at you silently, but with faces that clearly cried out in distress. “I am doing an erotic dance!”

You paused. “Oh, uh…”

“Come and watch,” he urged again.

“Well, I would, but I actually have to… Uh, I have to move my bed.” Ugh, really? Move your bed? “Because of… a leak. Yeah, there’s a leak above my bed, so I have to move it.” Nice save, Y/N.

Deacon didn’t even miss a beat before moving to start again. “Too bad. I’ll just get back to it, then.”

“Do you need help moving your bed?” Vladislav looked at you, his expression clearly saying what his mouth couldn’t. Please, get me out of this.

You nodded. “That would be great, thanks.”

Viago quickly piped in. “I’ll help, too!”

Deacon scowled. “Then who will be here to watch? Y/N, you don’t need both of their help. The bed isn’t that heavy if you’re just trying to slide it over, and Vlad is plenty strong enough to help you, right?”

Deacon looked at you expectantly. Viago looked at you pleadingly. Vladislav, officially safe, seemed to be very much enjoying this new turn of events.

“Uh… well… I guess that’s true.”

Viago’s face fell. The matter settled, Vladislav rose from the blanket and gestured for you to continue up the stairs as Deacon resumed his so called erotic dance.

Making it up to your room, you shut the door behind you both, bursting into a suppressed fit of laughter. “What the hell was that?” you asked once your laughter subsided.

Vladislav flopped back onto your bed, boots and all, much to your chagrin, and placed his hands behind his head, essentially taking the entire queen mattress for himself. You kicked off your shoes and sat on the corner of the bed, one leg tucked beneath you.

“Viago suggested that we practice our music tonight, and I vetoed him. So Deacon came up with another idea.”

“Poor Viago,” you smiled.

“Probably should have just rehearsed.”

“I didn’t know you played music. All three of you?”

He grinned wickedly, and you caught a view of his canines. His fangs? “Oh, yes.”

Ignoring his teeth, you continued on. “Are you any good?”

His grin disappeared. “No.”

You laughed again. “Okay. Well, how long do you think we have to hide out in here until it’s safe?”

Vladislav raised an eyebrow at your suggestion. “I’m not going anywhere. He can go for hours.”

“Well, I’ll have to go to sleep at some point, so…” You shrugged. “Just exactly how lost in the sauce is Deacon right now?”

He looked at you as if you’d gone mad. “Lost in the sauce?”

“Drunk,” you clarified.

He laughed. It was a big, booming, warm laugh. You quite liked it. “Not at all, believe it or not.”

You sat in relatively amicable silence for a moment.

“So you play instruments?” His eyes opened at your words. You hadn’t realized they’d closed. “What else do you guys do all night? Because, Viago told me you were up all night for work, but I’ve noticed by now that that’s not true.”

He shrugged, as much as one can shrug while laying on a bed in his position. “I paint. Viago sculpts. Deacon knits.”

“Very artistic of you all.” You took of note of his failure to respond to your comment about work.

“Deacon and I fence, and I do archery. We all read quite a bit.”

“And go clubbing,” you supplied.

“We go out a lot, yes.”

You both fell into silence again, this time more awkward than amiable.

“You dress funny.” Shit, Y/N! “No, uh, sorry, I mean, not funny… It looks good, actually!” That much was true. He currently wore tight pants with a puffy white shirt, ruffled and open dangerously low on his chest, and cinched at the wrists, covered with a brown vest, equally low cut. Good god, dial it back. “Just, uh, you have, you all have, a unique style. Vintage,” you finished lamely. “Sorry.”

He laughed again and you felt yourself blush. “It’s called fashion.”

You smiled, glad you hadn’t actually offended him. “Right.”

“How was work today?” he asked, taking the conversation firmly away from rude questions and into more appropriate small talk.

“I didn’t have work today. I was out shopping.”

“Ah. Get anything good?”

“A necklace.” Your fingers traced the chain and you debated not taking it out. You wanted to see if he’d react, though, and your curiosity won out. Pulling the cross pendant from your shirt, you held it up for him to see.

Vladislav reacted fiercely. He violently retched, and for a moment you feared he may throw up all over your bed. But as he dry heaved again, his body convulsed, and his boot came up to smack you in the chin. You tumbled off the edge of the bed and onto the floor.

You cried out, hand cupping your surely bruised jaw.

Suddenly fine, Vladislav rushed over to you, and you scrambled to hide the necklace once again.

“Sorry, sorry,” you weren’t entirely sure why you were the one apologizing, as you were the one injured and on the ground.

You pushed yourself up until you were kneeling, hand once again massaging your sore jaw.

“Are you alright?”

Before you could answer him, the door swung open to reveal a very concerned Viago. Taking in the scene in front of him, he visibly shifted from concern to anger.

“Vladislav! You promised you wouldn’t sleep with her!”

Vladislav rolled his eyes. “We weren’t—“

“What!” you exclaimed, cutting him off. Only then did you realize what it looked like. You kneeling on the floor with Vladislav standing in front of you. You flung yourself away from him and quickly stood. “It’s not like that. I just fell.”

“Oh.” Viago paused. “Well, anyway, Deacon wants to know if you guys are done.”

Now was your turn to roll your eyes. “Tell him I’m going to sleep. You guys are on your own.”

After once again checking that you were alright, your two flatmates resigned themselves to their fate and returned to the lounge, Vladislav shooting you an indecipherable look.

As you sat alone in your room, you were keenly aware of the necklace that now seemed to to hang so heavily from your neck.

He really was insane, wasn’t he?

#wwdits #vladislav #vladislav x reader #jemaine clement #another life #al fic

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akjensen-writes · 4 years

Text

holdin’ out for a hero

short story - wlw [Whitney/Taylor]

TW - suicide idealization (brief)

“That’ll be 13.95.”

Taylor says it automatically, feeling more like a robot than a person. She waits patiently as the customer across the counter inserts their card into the reader. It buzzes several times before the card is removed. She glances at her watch as discreetly as possible. Her red cashier’s vest reads ‘I dig Mr. Pig’ and if that isn’t bad enough, she’s got another three hours left until the end of her shift. An end that can’t come soon enough, for so many more reasons than sheer boredom.

Thursday nights at the Piggly Wiggly, aka the Pig -- pronounced “the Peeg” from the heavy accents of the locals -- are never very busy. They carry the same droning, languid feeling that Taylor can hear coming from her own voice, and she spends more time staring at the clock and contemplating her own existence than actually doing anything.

She’s been here for four years, which is approximately three and a half too many, with no escape plan in sight. The pay is dismal, but it’s a job, and in a small southern town, that’s really all she can ask for. But she’s trapped, and every day the walls seem to close in on her a little more. If this is the best she can do, then she isn’t sure what the point is anymore.

Chris, the cashier in the next lane, methodically swipes product across his counter with mind-numbing precision. Cereal, beep. Bananas, beep. Eggs, beep. All in a steady, even rhythm. Boring, beep. Useless, beep. Taylor taps her fingers on the counter. The same ‘80’s mix of songs rotates over and over again on the dated speakers. She wonders how many times she’s listened to it all the way through at this point. A thousand, maybe. She knows she can recite every track, sing every lyric, and that in and of itself is nothing to be proud of.

Bonnie Tyler’s rasping voice cuts into the silence. I’m holdin’ out for a hero ‘til the end of the night.

“Aren’t we all, Bonnie?” Taylor mutters to herself. “Aren’t we all?”

Tonight is the night, she thinks, as she plasters a smile on her face and hands the change over to her customer. Her lane is once again empty. The fluorescent lights buzz above her as she stares into space. Tonight is her last shift, for good. Tonight is her last anything. She’s going nowhere, and doesn’t even have the energy to care about it anymore. It’s not like it would matter. She could disappear off the face of the Earth and she doubts anyone would so much as blink.

It isn’t sadness, really. It’s just nothing. Deep, dark, nothing.

“Hey Taylor, I’m headin’ out.” Derek, the weekday manager talks as he’s coming around the corner. He always does that. He starts his sentences while he’s at odd places in the store, appearing just as his thought trails off. His beady little eyes dart around nervously as he glances at her register. It’s a silent reminder to thoroughly count the money before she turns over the key. He’s nice enough, Taylor thinks, even if all he does is sit in the back room and watch reruns of old ‘90’s cartoons. Nice enough is all it takes in this town, apparently. But a small pang of sadness hits her in the chest as she thinks about the fact that she’s never going to see him again.

“Have a great night,” Taylor says, nodding at him, trying to commit his squirrely features to memory. He has a small chin and scruffs of facial hair that he only keeps to look older than he really is. These are the two distinguishing features that stand out as somewhat noteworthy. In that moment, she feels sorry for him. “Thanks for everything, Derek.”

She feels weirdly nostalgic, nudged on by the anticipation of tonight being the end of everything. Derek has done exactly nothing for her, except leave her alone, which she supposes is something to be thankful for. He narrows his eyes in suspicion as he looks her over.

“Uh, sure,” he replies, frowning. “Just don’t forget to lock up, okay?”

It’s such a trivial request, but it fits, somehow. Don’t forget to lock up. Don’t make a mess. Just get it over with quickly and be done, will you? We don’t have any time for this.

Taylor almost smiles.

The sound of a throat clearing breaks the moment. She turns her attention back to her line. JenandJudy are standing there, wearing identical flannel shirts, staring at her with sweet, expectant smiles.

“How’s it goin’?” they ask, together in perfect unison. Taylor nods at them and starts scanning their items. A case of beer, and a bottle of whiskey. They’re probably going to the woods for a bonfire.

They all went to high school together, and at one point, Taylor assumes Jen and Judy were separate entities. But for as long as she can remember they’ve been together, their names a one word anomaly. JenandJudy. They’re the kind of lesbians that have now merged identities so ferociously, there’s no telling where one ends and the other begins. It’s borderline creepy, the way they almost look like twins at this point, but no one ever comments on it out loud. Taylor assumes that’s just what happens when you fall in love, but something about it seems a little...much.

Not that she would know.

“You should come to the clearing,” Jen suggests, with Judy nodding emphatically. “We’re headin’ there in a few.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Taylor verbally agrees, while mentally declining. The clearing is a dump, almost literally, where everyone in town gathers as an excuse to do something other than sit at home. Taylor hasn’t been there since she was 15. JenandJudy smile, satisfied at doing the bare minimum in extending the invitation.

Judy’s arm stays protectively around Jen’s waist. She watches her with starry-eyed fascination as her girlfriend pays. ‘Look at this incredible specimen!’ her eyes seem to exclaim, like it’s the singular most fantastic thing she’s ever witnessed. ‘She pays for groceries better than anyone I’ve ever seen! Can you believe it?’

Taylor snorts to herself. She isn’t mad, or even put off by it. It must be nice to have someone who thinks you’re fascinating, even when there’s nothing remotely amazing going on. The jealousy is warm and cozy, like a blanket she can pull snugly around her shoulders in her hour of need.

“See you later!” they announce, gathering their alcohol and heading for the door. Taylor waves a final goodbye.

“How do you tell them apart?” a voice teases from somewhere behind her. She turns, and instantly she’s met with bright hazel eyes that seem so sharp, they could probably dissect her right where she’s standing. Taylor swallows several times, unsuccessful in her attempts to get her mouth working properly. She smiles weakly, shrugging. “I’m just kidding,” the blonde stranger says, running her fingers through her hair. Taylor catches the way her slightly tanned cheeks flush, and a warmth runs through her chest.

“It’s a good question,” Taylor says, glancing back out the door where JenandJudy have just left. “At this point, I don’t think I can.”

“Fair enough,” she giggles, and Taylor’s heart, inexplicably, flutters.

Sexy customers are not really a thing at The Pig, and when it happens, it’s almost like spotting a unicorn. In all the years Taylor has been working here, it’s only happened half a time, and that’s because the woman in question was wearing so much makeup that Taylor couldn’t make an accurate assessment.

She’s suddenly acutely aware of her horrifying vest, and the fact that her brown hair is disgusting, all matted and greasy against her scalp. Of course this would happen tonight, of all nights. The final night. Why couldn’t she have made an effort, just this once? Maybe she should have planned better. But she knows no amount of planning would ever prepare her to lock eyes with someone as stunning as the girl in front of her now.

She adjusts her dark framed glasses and tries to focus on doing her job without saying anything horrifying.

There are only two items to scan: a sympathy card and flowers. Taylor glances up at the stranger and notices her wringing her fingers together, looking around the store with a sort of forlorn expression. She clears her throat.

“These are really pretty,” Taylor offers, gesturing at the flowers as she scans the other item. She doesn’t know why she comments. She usually makes it a rule not to get involved in other people’s purchases. It’s none of her business. Whenever she goes shopping, she’s so conscious of what’s going through the clerk’s mind that she almost can’t stand it. But this feels different. Magnetic, somehow, like she’s drawn to this girl, like not saying something is a worse transgression. Besides, she started it. The conversation feels like it has to go somewhere.

“You think?” the girl replies, taking them with a skeptical smile. It’s a lavender themed wildflower bouquet. Classy, in Taylor’s not-so-expert opinion. “I wasn’t sure.”

“They’re great,” Taylor assures her.

“They’re for my friend,” the girl explains. “Her cousin died, and I wanted to stop by and do something nice for her, you know? But I’m the worst at these things. I never know what to freakin’ say.”

“Sometimes just showing up is enough,” Taylor says, and she means it with everything she has. She wishes more people would understand that. Just being there means everything.

“That’s a good point,” she replies, looking thoughtful. “It’s always nice to know that people care. I wish we didn’t always wait for funerals to show that to each other, you know?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“It’s too late, and then what?” the girl asks, almost exasperated. “It’s not fair. People should just be nicer to each other.”

“They should,” Taylor agrees, her heart pounding as they make eye contact. The girl smiles, a dazzling, dreamy smile, and Taylor’s insides melt. “She’s lucky to have you.”

The girl takes her change and shrugs. As she gathers her items, she pauses and nods at Taylor again. “Thanks for listening to me ramble,” she says. “Genuinely. I haven’t come to this grocery store before, but I just moved from across town. I think this is going to be my new regular spot. I’m sure I’ll see you around soon.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Taylor promises.

Her eyes follow the girl to the exit. She watches her carry her items carefully, her other hand fishing in her jeans pocket for her keys. Taylor stares long after she’s gone and decides that maybe, just maybe, she can hold on for a little longer.

----

The charming stranger returns a week later, on an unassuming Tuesday evening to do a routine stock of groceries. Taylor is working, holding on to the hope of being able to see her again. If that makes her pathetic, then she’s already mostly made peace with that. She sees the stunning blonde sashay in around 7pm, wearing the exact same outfit as she wore when Taylor met her: a red zip up sweatshirt, white tshirt, and jeans that seem to be tailor made for her. Taylor’s mouth is instantly dry, her insides pulsing like the walls of a night club. The girl glances at her phone with a focused expression, before placing it in her pocket.

Taylor wonders idly if she normally shops on off hours like this, but she supposes she’ll figure it out sooner or later. That’s the thing about always working at a place so integral to people’s lives: the routines become part of her. She knows Mr. Jensen, the math teacher, always shops on Wednesday mornings because he has two free periods and hates crowds. He stocks up on Folger’s coffee like they’re going out of business, and he has a particular affinity for Corn Flakes cereal.

Taylor can tell you about most of her regulars. She knows their preferences, their routines, their schedules. She even knows their moods. An extra bottle of wine for the dark haired lady who works downtown? A rough week. Lactaid milk for the balding guy that lives in her apartment complex? His mom is coming to town.

All this without saying much more than “paper or plastic?” and “did you find what you were looking for?”

“Hey!” a now familiar voice announces. Taylor turns, and once again is taken by mystery girl’s marvelous hazel eyes. She’s smiling like they’re in on a tremendous secret, even though there’s nothing coincidental about running into her here.

“You’re back,” Taylor greets, trying to keep her voice steady, like she hasn’t been counting down the minutes until she could see this girl again. She absolutely has, but no reason for her to know that. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yup,” the girl says, piling her items on the conveyor belt. “Most importantly--” she reaches into her cart and picks up a bottle of wine. A red blend from Napa. That tracks. Pretty girls from out of town drink smooth red wines. Everyone knows that.

She slides over her ID and Taylor scans it quickly. Not too quickly to notice her name, though. It’s like a slight-of-hand card trick, the way she does it without moving her eyes. The result of years of on the job training. She can’t say the Pig didn’t give her at least one weirdly applicable skill.

The blonde’s picture beams back at her. Whose DMV photo comes out this gorgeous? Taylor bites her lip as her gaze flickers to the flawless face in front of her. Nice to meet you, Whitney Matthews, of Cherry Grove Court. According to her license, she’s 24 as of April 4th, making her two years older than Taylor. She slides the ID back and rings up the rest of her items. The haul is mostly produce, almond milk, eggs. She’s clearly a responsible eater, one of those people who seem to be into wellness. She probably does yoga. Taylor sneaks a glance at Whitney’s legs.

Definitely yoga.

There’s a few frozen pizzas and a surprising appearance from a large bag of skittles. Taylor grins as she rings them up.

“I love skittles,” Whitney says with a teasing smile. “Don’t judge me.”

“Who doesn’t love skittles?”

“Thank you,” Whitney nods, approving. She grabs her bags and puts them back in her cart. “Same time next week?” She chuckles when she says it and Taylor’s cheeks flush, as if this is a standing date the two of them now have.

With a nod she replies, “I’ll be here.”

Whitney gives her a little wave, and Taylor wonders if she’s like this with everyone. Is she a serial conversationalist, making flirtatious small talk with every clerk in town? Or is this something a little more significant?

She knows what she wants the answer to be.

---

From then on, every Tuesday, like clockwork, Whitney comes into the Pig and does her usual shopping trip. She always seems to wear her signature red hoodie and jeans, like she’s got her own version of a grocery uniform-- only hers isn’t mortifying and ugly. Quite the opposite, if Taylor has anything to say about it. It’s casual and sexy which is a combination only Whitney can pull off with such ease. She usually has her hair up in a ponytail, but sometimes she comes in with wavy, sunkissed locks, and Taylor can’t seem to shake the desperate need to run her fingers through it.

Today is a skittles day, which means Whitney’s in a good mood. These are the weeks Taylor loves the most. This is when Whitney gives her teasing smiles that stay on her face a little longer than usual, and offers tidbits about her day. She’s a nurse in the orthopedic wing at the hospital, she says, and this week she got to scrub in on a really complicated sounding surgery. A knee reconstruction, or something. It’s so impressive that Taylor almost forgets she’s supposed to be scanning groceries, lost in the idea of Whitney out there doing good, saving lives. She feels inadequate in comparison, but can’t seem to dwell on it while Whitney is here looking at her like she’s the only person in the world she wants to talk to.

Sometimes, on weeks like this, she’ll share her weekend plans, or talk about something she’s planning to cook. She likes to go hiking, which isn’t a surprise. She also loves Italian food. Taylor listens and catalogues everything in a mental Whitney spreadsheet that she keeps in her brain, in case she ever has a reason to need it.

She hopes one day, she will.

Some weeks, though, Whitney only buys the staples, and her smile is a little slower, her eyes a little muted. She’s more tired, or stressed, or something that Taylor can’t detangle, and those are the weeks Taylor wishes didn’t have to exist. On those days, it’s almost like the little light in Whitney flickers, too exhausted to be kept on at the normal brightness she exudes. She quietly greets Taylor, and thanks her when the transaction is done. She puts her bags in her cart and slowly shuffles out of the store, leaving Taylor alone with nothing but Bonnie Tyler crooning in the background.

Turn around, bright eyes.

“Shut up, Bonnie,” Taylor mutters, disappointed.

---

Taylor tries to avoid working Saturdays because the Pig turns into an overrun madhouse of exhausted mothers, screaming children, and bleary eyed white collar workers who can’t sneak away from the office any other time to do their shopping. The lines are nonstop. The shelves are in a perpetual state of near-depletion. Everywhere she looks, it’s a disaster, the store ground zero of a perfectly executed attack.

But the extra cash is necessary if Taylor is going to go back to school. She decides to get serious about it on a random night when her shift ends. Whitney had been in, elated from a successful day caring for a patient with a broken leg, and something in Taylor just clicked. Maybe this isn’t everything her life has in store for her. Maybe the Pig isn’t her last stop.

Nursing probably isn’t a good fit, she’s squeamish around needles and doesn’t think she can handle that much potential death. It’s ironic, considering her state of mind a while ago, but the two ideas remain disconnected. She considers teaching, or journalism, or maybe even accounting. She’s always been good with numbers. The options are suddenly endless.

She’s giddy at the prospect, and it seems to overflow into her work. She’s chatting with customers for no reason today -- asking more than the obligatory questions, and even going so far as to compliment a lady’s hair cut. Everything feels brighter, somehow.

The morning goes by in a blur of produce codes and aisle clean ups, but the pace is strangely satisfying. It’s already 2pm by the time she checks her watch, which is astonishing. Her face hurts from smiling at so many people, but that’s a nice problem to have. She turns her attention to the next customer and her heart catches in her throat.

“Twice in one week, lucky me,” Whitney says cheerfully, smiling a hundred watt smile as she places the divider on the belt to separate her items from the person behind her. “How ya doin?”

“Great,” Taylor squeaks, her voice cracking horribly. She clears her throat and studies Whitney’s stuff. A birthday cake and some wine. Taylor’s stomach drops. She glances at her watch. April 4th. “How--how are you?”

It’s Whitney’s birthday, but she doesn’t want to bring it up. She doesn’t want to explain why she knows it, why April 4th is ingrained in her memory. It isn’t for any creepy reasons, honest. She just finds Whitney fascinating on every level. And a little sexy. It’s not a crime to be invested.

Whitney shrugs. “Oh, you know, doing okay,” she says, and it isn’t very convincing. She looks suddenly defeated, and Taylor wants so badly to help.

“Got any plans tonight?” she asks, hoping it might coax something out of her. She wants Whitney to be doing something extraordinary, to have a day that celebrates her, the way she deserves. But her demeanor stays reserved.

“Dinner with my parents, and my sister,” she says softly. “Nothin’ crazy.”

“And cake, of course.”

“And cake,” Whitney agrees. “Of course.”

The receipt is printed, and Taylor finally cracks. She wants to ask about her family, about her sister. Is she older or younger? Is she anything like Whitney or completely the opposite? Does she get along with her family?

“Is it your birthday?” is all she asks instead, the only question she already knows the answer to. She blinks at Whitney carefully.

Whitney’s cheeks flush as she nods. “The cake gave it away, huh?”

“Maybe a little,” Taylor replies.

“Pretty sad, I know, buying my own cake,” Whitney shrugs. “It kind of snuck up on me this year.”

“No, it’s not sad,” Taylor says, trying her best to reassure her. She carefully places the cake in a bag and gently ties the top. Their hands touch as Whitney takes it, and a jolt goes through Taylor’s core. She swallows heavily, trying to gain her composure.“This way at least you know you’re getting one you like, right?”

“Very true,” Whitney finally smiles. “Something about bakery frosting, I swear. I don’t even care what kind of cake it is, but this frosting is addicting. My mom is probably baking something, so she’s going to be so pissed.” She laughs at that, and Taylor joins her, for the simple fact that Whitney seems to finally be cheerful.

“I hope you have a really great birthday,” Taylor says, handing her the receipt.

“Thanks,” Whitney takes it, her nose scrunching as she smiles. “I’m glad I saw you.”

Whitney exits, and Taylor’s eyes follow her for a few seconds. She wonders, briefly, if Whitney is happy.

---

Conversations have never come easy to Taylor. People are fascinating, but only from a distance. She likes to observe, to formulate an idea of a person curated from the tidbits they choose to share. She’s always been told she’s a great listener. Mostly, it’s because she doesn’t have a choice. She doesn’t want to say something stupid or awkward and disrupt the connection she has with someone. Instead, she nods along, perfectly content to absorb whatever people feel like sharing.

Whitney doesn’t seem to mind Taylor’s silence. She’s warm and genuine, always patiently nudging the conversation ahead and navigating when Taylor prefers to coast. Granted, they don’t sit down and have long heart to hearts, but their connection is purposeful. They speak with intent; Whitney always seems to focus on Taylor and only Taylor when they speak. She isn’t on her phone or reading over her shoulder or flipping through a magazine. She even goes as far as pausing on unloading her groceries in order to finish her thought, or wait for Taylor’s response. She’s probably the worst to stand behind in line, because she never seems to be in a rush. She simply exists in the moment, thoughtful and patient and kind, allowing herself to simply be.

Their routine continues week in and week out. Whitney comes into the store, seeks out Taylor’s line, and pauses to catch up. They’re cautiously toeing the line from acquaintances to almost-friendship, a gray area that Taylor knows is going to eventually require a leap. But just seeing Whitney’s face light up when she holds up two bags of potato chips one Tuesday night in late May is enough for Taylor to be grateful.

She’ll take Whitney in any form she can get, even if it’s just as the adorable customer with the dazzling eyes who gets overly excited about a potato chip sale.

“Buy 2 get 2, I’m so freaking pumped!” Whitney exclaims, placing them down on the belt and grinning in triumph. She doesn’t usually buy chips, so Taylor’s eyebrow raises in question.

“What?”

“You don’t usually buy them,” Taylor shrugs, scanning the package. Lays BBQ and Wavy. Interesting.

“My friend is having a barbecue and I’m on snack duty,” Whitney says, surveying the rest of her items with a frown. She places her hands on her hips. “What am I missing?”

Taylor follows her eyes and takes note of the contents: several kinds of dips, and what looks like one of each type of chip flavor the store carries. She shakes her head and grins. “Did you leave any on the shelves?”

“Very funny,” Whitney rolls her eyes.

“Sweet tea?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t see it,” Taylor frowns, searching again.

“What?” Whitney tilts her head thoughtfully to the side before her eyes widen. “Oh! Sweet tea. Sweet tea! I thought you said sweetie.”

Whitney’s cheeks flush, and the muscles in Taylor’s stomach clench at the unexpected endearment. She’s warm and tingly all over, and might actually pass out, now that she’s processing the whole exchange. Whitney reacted so naturally, like tossing out ‘sweetie’ is just something they casually do.

Taylor chuckles, shaking her head. “They basically sound the same, yeah,” she agrees, and Whitney holds her hand loosely over her mouth.

“I’m an idiot,” she says. “No, I don’t have sweet tea. Should I?”

“Sort of a requirement around these parts.”

“Dang, the more you know.” Whitney glances at the drink aisle and back to Taylor.

“No worries, I’ll go get it for you,” Taylor says, already turning toward the aisle. She slips past several customers and heads for the back of the store. She could navigate with her eyes closed, but she still picks up the pace so she doesn’t keep Whitney waiting. She grabs the biggest one she can find and heads back to her register.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Whitney gushes, and Taylor feels her cheeks burn. That’s her, the friendly neighborhood sweet tea proctor.

“It’s not quite the real deal, but it’s damn good,” Taylor says as she rings everything up.

“The real deal huh? You’ll have to tell me how to do that,” Whitney says. She places her card in the reader and grins. “I’m obviously not from here originally.”

She has a smooth accent, but not one Taylor can easily place. Her voice isn’t nasally like a northerner, but she talks faster than most of the people around here. It’s actually been driving Taylor crazy for weeks.

“Where are you from?”

Whitney gives her a teasing smile, her full lips twisting as she grins. “Guess.”

Taylor thinks about it more. Their eyes meet and her heart flips, the way it always does when Whitney’s around. She squints and sighs. “California?”

“Nope,” she replies, her smile radiant. She’s positively giddy at the idea of this game. “Guess you won’t find out.”

Taylor holds out her receipt. Whitney reaches for it, and Taylor pulls it back at the last minute. “How about now?”

Whitney’s mouth hangs open playfully as her eyes widen. “Taylor!”

She almost drops the receipt. It’s the first time Whitney says her name, and it sounds incredible coming from her lips. She has never been more thankful for her ugly name tag than right at this moment. She wants to ask her to repeat it, to find some way for her to say it over and over and over. Taylor. Her name is suddenly majestic.

Whitney grabs the receipt, catching Taylor in her tailspin. She flashes it in victory. “Don’t worry,” she says, leaning forward slightly. “I’ll tell you sometime.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Taylor says as Whitney gathers her bags. “Bye Whitney.”

“Later, Taylor,” she replies with a sweet smile, and Taylor’s entire body vibrates with something magical.

---

The summer is a whirlwind of activity. Besides the holiday rush, this is the only other time where Taylor notices a deluge of milestones. Graduations, weddings, christenings, all seem to be taking place in June, July and August. She recognizes Mrs. Johanssen from the library, coming in for a graduation cake. It’s for her son, she beams, he’s graduating from college, can you believe it? Taylor smiles and rings it up, sending her on her way with congratulations.

Mr. Hood, the hulking owner of Smash Fitness, comes in one morning for a dozen pink roses and a pink balloon. It’s for a christening, he says, blushing. His muscled hand is surprisingly gentle as he cradles the stems of the flowers. His arms practically burst through the sleeves of his suit. His baby girl, he gushes. Did she want to see pictures? Taylor obliges, and smiles, and wishes him the best. His eyes are misty as he thanks her and heads out on his way.

It’s a strange phenomenon to be present for the significant events in people’s lives without really knowing them. But Taylor shares something with each and every person, experiencing pieces of their joy as if she’s actually present for their celebrations. It’s one thing about this job that she’s grateful for. There’s an unexpected connection now, and that makes it mean something.

Whitney comes into the store more often, celebrating her own set of milestones. Taylor watches day in and day out as she buys graduation cards, and birthday cakes for family members, and a wedding card for another cousin. The wedding is going to be in Napa, she tells Taylor, starry-eyed. Isn’t that cool?

Taylor smiles, thinking of Whitney in a beautiful bridesmaid’s dress. Not the kind that awful brides make their friends wear so they look frumpy in comparison. But the real classic kind, a deep blue or a maroon, maybe, that would fit her like a glove and make her tan skin look incredible. She nods along with Whitney’s excitement, hoping for pictures, even though she knows that’s far fetched.

Taylor gives her the receipt and her bag and wishes her a great trip. She feels the way Whitney keeps her eyes on her as she starts to ring up the next customer in line.

“Can I text you?” Whitney asks softly, so softly that Taylor almost thinks she’s imagining things.

She turns to face her, and sees Whitney’s hopeful smile as she holds out her phone. “If you want,” she says. “I thought I could send you pictures from the wedding.”

“Yeah,” Taylor says. She has to shake her head to make sure this is really happening, but then she nods, taking Whitney’s phone. She puts in her number and hands it back. “I’d love that.”

“Great,” Whitney says, staring at her phone briefly before nodding, satisfied. “I’ll do that then.”

For the first time in months, Taylor catches the music on the speakers.

Somewhere just beyond my reach, there’s someone reaching back for me.

---

The following Tuesday, or Whitney day as Taylor secretly refers to it, is awful, because Whitney is out of town. She wakes up in a sour mood, despite the fact that they text now, which is a significant step in a fantastic direction. It just isn’t the same, knowing she won’t see her face in person, or get to listen to her talk about her day with a wry smile, or get teased for still not being able to guess where she’s from.

The day is long, but at least Whitney is diligent with her messages. That’s one thing Taylor was happy to discover with this whole development. Whitney doesn’t just text -- she writes. She sends her silly messages, almost a stream of consciousness that Taylor can actually picture her saying in person. It makes getting through her shift infuriating, for the simple fact that she can’t focus enough to reply. Even though that’s absolutely all she wants to do.

She asks for Taylor’s opinion on Wonder Bread, and what there is to wonder about, but then she answers her own question since she’s clearly sitting here wondering about it. She asks about Taylor’s work schedule. She tells her about the California weather. She sends a picture of a palm tree. She apologizes for sending so many messages.

Taylor quickly sneaks a look at her phone and tells her it’s okay. She likes them.

Finally, she sends a picture of her in her dress. Taylor’s face blazes. Whitney’s hair is done up in an elegant updo, a few pieces curled perfectly to fall along her cheek. The dress is magnificent -- a coral color that makes Whitney’s eyes pop. She’s got a sly teasing smile, like she wants to appear unsure that looks amazing, but knows she looks beyond.

“Dammit,” Taylor mumbles to herself, closing her eyes and trying to keep steady. It’s all she can do to stay rooted to the spot instead of hopping on a flight to who knows where California and trying to find her.

“You have beautiful eyes,” she replies, which doesn’t convey what she wants to say at all. In a fit of embarrassment, she pockets her phone.

The week is painfully slow, but somehow, they make it to next Tuesday. Taylor is on her “lunch” break, a 4pm slot that is closer to dinner, but no one cares enough to be technical about it. She’s sitting at one of the tables by the deli, which she does on occasion when the store is slow. The employee break room is dark and depressing, with a TV that only plays 3 channels, 1 of which is Fox News on repeat. She’d rather face awkward conversations and customer questions than Tomi Lahren, thank you very much.

She feels someone standing near her and she glances up, practically choking on her sandwich when she realizes it’s Whitney. She’s radiant, smiling like she’s got a trick up her sleeve and Taylor is so overjoyed she almost stands up to hug her. She isn’t much of a touchy feely person, but Whitney has her head spinning in so many directions, she might just make an exception.

“Hey!” Whitney exclaims, claiming a chair for her own and plopping down. “Can I sit here?”

“You already are,” Taylor says, chuckling. Whitney rolls her eyes.

“Smart ass,” she says.

“You’re here early,” Taylor says, checking her watch.

“I didn’t go to work today,” Whitney says, shrugging. “I took an extra day off. Jet lag is a bitch.”

Taylor nods as if she understands, but she’s never been out of the state. She takes a sip of her soda to try to steady her nerves.

Whitney taps on the table nervously. She’s fidgety, and gorgeous, and Taylor wants to just reach across the table and hold her hand. She doesn’t. She knows it would be weird, or something. It’s confusing. She’s pretty sure Whitney feels the crazy connection between them, but it’s also something she’s going to have to act on. Taylor doesn’t want to make anything uncomfortable.

“I’m not really good at this, and I know I should have done this a long time ago so I’m just going to ask--” Whitney starts, her eyes darting from the table to Taylor and back down again. “Um--”

“Yes.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask yet!”

“I feel like I know you,” Taylor replies, shrugging. She doesn’t care what Whitney is going to ask. She already knows her answer is always going to be yes.

Whitney pauses. “Yeah,” she agrees, an airy chuckle escaping her lips. “I feel like I know you, too.”

“So what were you going to ask?” Taylor’s stomach is in knots, but the good kind that comes from anticipation and excitement.

“Oh right,” Whitney bites her lip, like she’s trying to keep the words contained before blurting them out in an incoherent jumble. “Would you want to go out sometime?” Another breath. “With me, I mean?”

As if Taylor would want to go out with anyone else.

“It’s still a yes,” Taylor says softly. Whitney meets her eyes and a look of relief passes over her face.

“Yeah?” Whitney scrunches her nose and grins. “When’s your next day off?”

“Tomorrow I finish at 3,” Taylor says. “I’m free the whole night.”

“Tomorrow it is,” Whitney slaps the table with a snappy grin and stands up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have a ton of shopping to do.”

Taylor nods her goodbye and takes another sip of her drink.

Forever’s gonna start tonight, Bonnie Tyler exclaims. For once, Taylor thinks she might be right.

---

The most disorienting experience is shopping at another grocery store. Their layout feels twisted and wrong, the lights a weird, new-age dimness that makes her forget what time it is. Taylor peruses the aisles slowly, going over her list with precision.

She doesn’t like to shop at the Pig too often since she knows everyone there. It just turns into an hour of unnecessary conversations then two hours of jumping in to actually work, even if she’s off. Tonight she’s on a schedule. She only has a few hours before her night class at the community college. She’s almost finished with her first year, which is crazy. Accounting, which is smooth and satisfying, the numbers crisp and clean and honest.

But she’s also taking creative writing, too. She has too many stories to keep in her head.

The frozen aisle is up next. She places three frozen pizzas in the cart, grinning to herself. They taste like cardboard, but she isn’t going to complain. She stocks up on almond milk and eggs, and gets all the fresh produce. Her phone buzzes in her pocket. It’s Whitney, reminding her about dinner tomorrow, as if Taylor could ever forget. Tomorrow is Whitney’s birthday, and she’s been planning a weekend trip for them for months. She’s going to surprise her and take her to Florida where, it turns out, Whitney is from. It only took several agonizing months to pry that information out of her, but Taylor finally landed on a quality guess.

She thumbs through several cards, none of them saying exactly what she feels, but she ultimately settles on one with two puppies. Can’t ever go wrong with puppies. She tosses in a bag of skittles and heads for the check out.

The clerk is a quiet girl who smiles at her briefly before scanning her items. Taylor fixes her shirt, a nervous habit when she doesn’t know whether to make conversation or not. She absentmindedly fiddles with the buttons, wondering if this shirt is hers or Whitney’s. It doesn’t really matter.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” the girl asks, her bored eyes still focused ahead of her, trained on the screen.

“Yeah,” Taylor says, confidently. “Yeah, I did.”

#og writing #short story #wlw #writeblr #authorblr #taylor x whitney #practicing all sorts of stuff #shameless plug for bonnie tyler because i do what i want #writing #fiction

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fairstarlights · 4 years

Text

Crowns and Thorns

Chapter Summary: Patton and Logan take Virgil on a fun outing.

Chapter Warnings: N/A - Enjoy the fluff -

Chapter Pairing(s): Logicality

Word Count: 1,761

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

- Chapter 5 -

After tea was finished Virgil took the cups and deposited them into the sink to be washed later Patton grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the main room. “For all your hard work Logan and I are going to take you out and do stuff! Just for a while since Logan is a stick-in-the-mud.”

“I am a person and there is no mud in here, if there was Virgil most likely has cleaned it by now.” Virgil snorted at Logan's reply. He was as dumb as he was smart it seemed. Virgil lightly shook out of Patton's grasp and took a few steps backwards because the guy apparently doesn't know about personal fucking space.

He opened his mouth to object but it died on his lips as he remembered these people worked for King Thomas and gave him this job.

“Can we go out another day? I'm kind of tired from cleaning and would like to relax.”

“Kiddo! This is exactly why you need a few hours out of this place! It's boring because your work place is also your home and you can pick stuff up to decorate your room or something.” Patton said as he grabbed both Virgil and Logan and lead them through the door, Logan knew not to protest and Virgil just didn't have the energy for it.

The town-square was bustling with people doing whatever people do and a lot of one day set up shops among the normal every day ones. Crowds made Virgil anxious, but since he had all that free time while Roman trained he had time to explore and get used to it. As used to it as allowed anyway.

Patton seemed to enjoy all the people and Logan looked apathetic. Something else seemed to be there, something in his eyes spoke more emotion that Logan seemed to allow himself to show. Virgil considers himself rather perceptive but his intuition lacked so he wasn't even going to try to guess.

“Patton, would you please let Virgil go? I do not think he will be running away and if he chooses to do so it would not be the end of the world, finding him would not be a problem.” Logan said and Patton pouted, but let go.

'If I wanted to be found.' Virgil thought to himself. But just like Logan said, Virgil didn't disappear into the crowd after being freed. It almost made him want to do just that but he kept that impulse at bay and focused on the shops around them.

“Wait, I don't really have money right now.”

“Do not worry Virgil, we will buy the things you require. After you cleaned the place from that horrible disarray, we could do this much for you.”

“Logan is right! There was no way we could have done that ourselves with all our normal day things. We didn't think we'd even be able to hire someone in time because of the little time we have for things like that. Then an angel walked through the doors and made our dream come true.” Wow this guy was as extra as Roman. Ugh, he needed to not think about him right now.

“I'm not an angel.”

“Of course you are, you saved us!” Patton went to ruffle Virgil's hair and Virgil promptly ducked and hissed. Logan and Patton looked at Virgil like he had two heads and the anxious boy was filled with immediate regret. Not because he was embarrassed, no, these were just two very important people to the King. He needed to be more careful.

“You're like a little black cat, oh my goodness.” Patton gushed as he pressed his hands to his face, which looked infuriatingly adorable. If this guy kept up the cute names there would end up being words. Logan seemed to realize this and cleared his throat, his face back to it's usual neutral expression.

“Patton, I do believe you wanted to stop by the cafe? Perhaps we could go and get a bite to eat.” The curly hair boy gasped and jumped up and down, making his curls bounce slightly chanting yes's before taking off into the crowd, hand in hand with Logan. Those two were going to get caught one day and Virgil didn't want to see what would happen.

He went to the only cafe he knew of and happened to catch sight of the two dorks going in. As Virgil entered the smells of the pastries and tea hit him like a horse drawn carriage to the face. That had happened once at his home village and Roman had a field day over it, nearly chasing after it but relented due to Virgil not wanting to cause more of a scene.

Virgil shoved the thoughts away and sat down at the table Patton and Logan were sitting at. The place looked like something Virgil couldn't afford on a daily basis or even a weekly basis. Maybe not even monthly. Logan and Patton were likely to give him a living wage but he wasn't sure how much he would need for food, clothes and other life necessities and still have room to do a little bit of indulging. Not that Virgil would indulge too much, he wants to make sure he can money saved up just in case something happened to his job.

The waiter came up and asked for their order. Patton got a couple chocolate chip cookies and tea with cream and sugar. Logan got a jelly filled scone with black tea. Virgil ordered a slice of chocolate cake with water since he just had tea.

“Water? That's interesting.” Patton commented and Logan nodded.

“Yes, I think Virgil is doing the best thing, unlike you Patton. You should be look after yourself better.”

The two playfully bickered back and forth till the waiter gave them their order, and then dug in. Virgil noticed there was a half sliced strawberry on top of his cake and internally cheered, he loved strawberries. After chatting and hearing a fluency of puns from Patton, they finished their treats and tea, or in Virgil's case: water, Logan paid and they headed back out to the square.

Logan took them to a small shop full of furniture and some other smaller things. Virgil ended up with a dark violet tea cup set, silver cutlery and various other things for the kitchen. For his bedroom he got black blankets and curtains (to keep out the light) and a black mirror to match.

“That's an awful lot of black kiddo, don't you want something with more color? You're not getting only black because it's cheapest are you?”

Well he wasn't far off. Virgil didn't want to spend anymore than he had to, plus back in his village blacks, browns and greys were the cheapest because they were the easiest to make, so Virgil grew a fondness for the color. He did like purple as well, but that was a color for the wealthy and unfortunately he was not one of those. Though with the things he was currently buying he felt wealthier than he ever had in his life.

“Nah, I just like the color or the lack of. Just that type of person.”

“That very well may be, but we can not have our messenger only wearing black. You are not undercover and black is the most useful at nighttime. I recommend us stopping by the clothing store to buy something with a color of your choice. I would recommend purple since it is the color we wear to identify ourselves.”

“We could get you a haircut too! Your hair's in your eyes.” Patton chimed in.

“No. My hair stays the way it is.” Virgil defended and coincidentally his bangs fell further into his face. He didn't stop to move them despite them tickling the top of his nose. Logan looked reluctant but didn't voice it. Patton shrugged and happily steered them into the most expensive looking clothing store Virgil had ever seen. Oh boy.

After hours of looking and butting heads with the Logan, Patton and the store clerk, Virgil ended up with a black shirt with purple trimmings on the color, down the sides of where they buttons were, sleeves and the hem. It also had a purple pocket. It came with a pull over cape, black with purple trim. His pants were black with purple around the bottom of the pant legs. A messenger bag was added to the mix and was white with intricately stitched gold and purple trim. He had the same clothes but in white with purple trimmings. Two purple outfits were added, one with black and one with white. All with matching capes.

Virgil thought he saw Logan grab a pair of shoes but it happened so fast he wasn't sure if he saw correctly or not.

As they left the store Virgil realized something very important. “Do I pick up the things later?” Patton giggled at that and danced around the darker and emptying square.

“Of course not silly! We had it all delivered. Couldn't walk around with it all day or keep taking stuff back to your home, that would be tedious. Oh! We had new cleaning supplies and table with chairs delivered as well. And food!”

Well, Virgil was speechless. “Oh wow. Uh, thanks.” He said lamely and Patton quickly ruffled his hair before Virgil could react. Not that he would and he thinks Patton knew that.

“It is not a problem. These are basic things you require and we are more than happy to give them to you.”

“Yeah! No worries on paying us back cause we definitely needed this time out too.”

“Oh. Oh no. How could I have not paid attention to the time? We must left, Patton and I have things to attend to back at the castle. Your things should be there already and put away, please do enjoy and take care of them.” Logan said as he offered his hand. Virgil shook it and Patton's as well as the two rushed off towards the castle.

Virgil watched them go till they got into a carriage. He turned around and headed back towards his new place of residency. The day could not have gone any better and if day were even nearly the level of happiness he was feeling and definitely not showing, he will eat his left foot.

Back in the carriage Patton was feeling proud of himself from the various happy looks Virgil had been sporting the whole day.

---- Fic Tag List ----

@laytonsartblog, @ambrechandra

Thank you <3

#sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #sanders sides #logicality #prinxiety #logan sanders #ts logan #patton sanders #ts patton #virgil sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #my work #sanders sides fluff #sanders sides angst

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hiddendreamer67 · 5 years

Text

Mandy in the Multiverse

Summary: Mandy the writer witch doesn’t know what to write for her prompt, so she goes searching back through her plethora of AUs for inspiration and accidentally stumbles into a few others as well.

(Shoutout to @callboxkat, @lefaystrent and @delimeful for letting me reference their works in this!)

October prompt #23: Witchcraft.

Check out more of my writing at @hiddendreamerwriting!

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Mandy sighed, laying on her back and tossing her pen in the air to catch again. It was dull, lacking the usual shine of inspiration. It seemed she was quickly burning through her magic supply this month.

Her eyes traveled over to the portal, humming in the corner. Several portals, actually. An entire wall of infinite portals, each leading into a different dimension she had created. But what did it matter? All the portals in the world wouldn’t help the young witch find a good story idea. She needed a new portal.

Mandy paused, catching her pen one last time. Or…she could always do a sequel. And for that, a quick lil’ inspiration trip wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?

“I’ll just pop in for a second.” Mandy grinned, already grabbing her cloak and sprinting through one at random.

A bright light flashed, forcing her to cover her eyes. She blinked the spots from her vision, peering around to find… a pet shop?

“Oh, tiny mers.” Mandy hummed, walking through the aisle ways. “Not exactly original, but-”

“Can I help you, gurl?” Remy the sales clerk interrupted her musing.

“Oh, hey Remy.” Mandy gave a disinterested wave, not even looking over as she peered into the empty tanks. She sighed. “Man, this is so boring. There’s not even anything happening here. Well, except with the cats.”

“We don’t sell cats.” Remy informed her.

“I know.” Mandy adjusted her cloak. She didn’t feel like walking all the way over to Picani’s place of residence just to see the shredded remains of Logan clinging to life, that’d just be depressing. “Don’t worry about it.” Without another word she twirled on her feet, the scenery swapping once more.

“Alright, where we headed?” Mandy rubbed her hands together, looking around to try and get the lay of the land. It was a wide open field, which didn’t give her many clues- that is, until she saw how dead the grass was and the hole left behind by what must’ve been a beanstalk.

“Aww, I missed it?” Mandy groaned. She looked around, seeing nobody at the bottom of the stalk either. “Well this sucks. I can’t even tell if this is Virgil’s or Patton’s story. Why does the beanstalk have to come down, anyway? Just let it stay up and eventually consume all the water on Earth.”

That was an idea, maybe. But today was not the day for mythical eco-terrorism. Instead with a sigh Mandy twirled again, crossing her fingers. “Please something fun, please something fun-”

Unfortunately, her hopes were dashed when she opened her eyes to see generic apartment number 3. “Darn it, just a borrower story.”

There was a quiet clattering behind her. Mandy turned, seeing a very startled human Logan standing in the kitchen. “I- how- what did you say?”

“Oh dear.” Mandy winced. Logan was always the one with too many questions, no matter the universe. “Um, a borrower? Tiny person about yeigh high?” Mandy held out her hands for scale. “You might have one already in a cage. That, or they’re still in the walls. I don’t really know what stage you’re at.”

Logan’s eyes widened, turning a deadly pale. He glanced back at the living room door anxiously, leaning forwards and lowering his voice. “How much do you know about the little mouse men?”

“The mouse men?” Mandy wrinkled her nose in confusion. Since when did Logan call borrowers ‘mouse men’? That sounded more like Littles, and the only story she knew with Littles was…

Mandy gasped, smacking a hand to her cheek. “This is Kat’s story!” She excitedly whispered. The witch looked down at her own hands in awe, having not been aware she could even do that. “Oh my goodness I could see Littles. Wait should I? What if I break something? No, I shouldn’t, they’re all so depressed right now, and Kat’s Littles are always so skittish.”

“Cat? What’s this about a cat?” Logan was frantically trying to keep up with her logic, to no avail.

“Don’t worry about it.” Mandy said hastily. “Tell them I say hi. Wait don’t, forget you saw anything. Okay. I love you. Bye.”

With these parting words Mandy spun away, eager to get out before she ruined over a year’s worth of careful planning. But this opened a newfound realm of possibilities; what were her limits? How far could she go? She eagerly focused her energy away from her own stories, trying to see if she could breach the wall again.

“...oh great. Another Remy.” Mandy sighed, opening her eyes.

“Gurl you better check yourself before you shrek yourself.” Remy judged her, taking a long sip from his cup.

Mandy glanced around, taking in the house in disarray. There was a strange amount of potato chip bags and binoculars. On a notebook was a list labelled ‘Vampires?’ where Logan’s name had been written, crossed out, rewritten, repeat.

“Is this Lefay’s Welcome to the Neighborhood fic?” Mandy guessed.

“Yup.” Remy nodded. Mandy wasn’t even surprised Remy had that knowledge; he was some sort of demon of the night anyways here. Or something.

“Good.” Mandy nodded as well. “So I can’t break anything.”

“Bold of you to assume you’re worthy enough to derail this plot.” Remy raised an eyebrow. “Where you headed?”

“I dunno.” Mandy shrugged, leaning against the couch. She cringed, feeling something sticky beneath her. “I mean not that you lovable trash raccoons aren’t, er, great… but I was kinda aiming for Delimeful.”

“The tiny dragon one?” Remy asked.

Mandy nodded. “I wanna introduce Puff to my dragon Virgil. Who isn’t really a dragon, just raised by dragons, and-”

“We get it, ya’ basic. First door on your left.” Remy interrupted with a point. Mandy paused, before with a shrug opening the door that was Remy’s haphazardly thrown together portal. There was another flash of familiar light, but this time the walls appeared more hazy. Translucent, even.

“So, this is a mind palace.” Mandy let out a low whistle, because she could do that in fiction. “Weird. I don’t work in canon enough, huh?”

But that wasn’t the focus right now. Instead her attention was drawn to a scuttling in front of her, a little purple dragon caught off guard by her arrival. Mandy grinned, taking the opportunity to lunge and catch him. “Gotcha!”

Puff did not appreciate this gesture, frantically clawing and biting at Mandy and nearly causing the young witch to drop him entirely.

“Geez, stop struggling, Virgil!” Mandy huffed, readjusting her grip.

“...Virgil?”

Mandy paused, looking up to see she had an audience. Roman, Patton, and Logan were giving her looks caught between confusion and horror. The dragon in question had frozen, terrified when she said his name.

For a moment Mandy thought she ruined everything, but no recognition dawned on their faces. “Oh right, you guys are pre-accepting anxiety.” Mandy gave a small sigh of relief, the others tensing further. “Don’t worry, it’s just a, uh, nickname. Totally irrelevant. Definitely not something worth pondering or asking Anxiety about. Okay, toodles!”

But as soon as Mandy attempted to spin on her heel with Puff in tow, a searing hot pain overtook her arms. She yelped, dropping the fledgling and spinning into the other realm alone, collapsing with a grimace.

“Okay, no taking things between realms.” Mandy grit her teeth. “Good to know.”

She looked up, her eyes peering through the darkness to see a sword glinting in the meager light, pointed threateningly at her face. Strangely, she hadn’t even heard the movement. That was suspiciously terrifying.

“State your business.” The not-dragon Virgil threatened.

Mandy looked down the length of the sword. She looked back up at Virgil. “I was just trying to bring you a present.” Mandy huffed, annoyed that her plan had failed. “It was a dragon version of you. A real one.”

Well, that was not the right thing to say. Mandy yelped, rolling out of the way as the sword came slashing down, clanking loudly against the rock wall.

“Lovely seeing you as always!” Mandy waved, turning on her heel to the sound of cursing behind her.

The witch gave a sigh of relief, trying to focus her mind again after getting so jittered. It was difficult whenever her creations got away from her, especially when she was at the wrong end of the sword. The Lord only knew how many times her giants got out of hand, putting Mandy in all sorts of compromising situations.

“Think Mandy.” Mandy told herself, continuing to spin as she began to get dizzy, multiple universes passing by and only offering her glimpses: cages, a butterfly wall, the ocean…. And of course the accompanying cast, but that was a bit harder to decipher considering they all shared the same fate. “If you could go anywhere, do anything, focus on that. Where would you go? What would you do?”

Her focus was shattered as in her dizzy state she took a single step back, breaking the spell and immediately tripping over something alive.

“Mrow!” The white cat hissed, scrambling fearfully up and away from Mandy and into Patton’s lap.

“Oh dear!” Patton gasped, bending down to check on her. “Are you alright?” She took in his light blue robes, recognizing a fellow magic user.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Mandy took his hand, standing up. She looked down at the bristling cat, glaring up at her haughtily. Mandy winced, slowly recognizing this to be her witch AU. “Sorry about your tail, Roman. Also sorry about your allergies, Patton.”

Patton gave her a bewildered look, not so subtly wiping at his nose. The cat hair was clearly getting to him again. “What? It’s just this spring air. Hardly your fault.”

“Right.” Mandy didn’t bother to explain that she was the one who gave him allergies in the first place. She sighed, wishing she could at least cuddle up Roman with his fluffy coat, but Roman looked to be in no mood to accept her apology. “Aristocat.” She muttered. “Are Logan and Virgil around?”

“No, I believe they went out to collect potion ingredients.” Patton explained.

“Ugh why didn’t I just do that?” Mandy smacked herself in the forehead. “I could have just written something about you four doing potion stuff for witchcraft. This is so needlessly complicated.”

“...sorry?” Patton didn’t know how to respond.

“Whatever, I’m getting out of here.” Mandy glanced at the pair one last time. “I suggest inventing magic benadryl. Or getting regular benadryl. I have no idea what time period this actually is because you refuse to go outside.”

With this mystic advice Mandy disappeared, forever on the hunt for that elusive inspiration.

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wilwywaylan · 4 years

Text

In only seven days (or the life and times of a sullen convenience shop employee) (part 1)

Fandom : Les Misérables

Modern AU, Montparnasse x Jehan Prouvaire, various other relationships in the background, 5027 words

Based on I don’t remember which post exactly, that said that coffeeshop AU was passé and the rage was now convenience store employee. Which is of course perfect for Montparnasse.

Dedicated to @kujaku-myoo, @jesvisfarovche and @aux-barricades. Thanks for your help and support !

Also on AO3 !

For the third time in one hour, Montparnasse changes the hand his head is resting on, and sighs, the longest sigh he'd ever uttered (or it's pretty high in his top ten). His palms and elbows are starting to hurt, and he will probably get very inelegant bruises, staying like this. But the only other options are either getting up and doing something like sorting some merchandise or maybe cleaning a little, or lay his head down on the counter and take a nap. Or scream for two hours straight. And as much as he really wants to scream, it won't be very good for his image. Or job. Or throat.

To think that someone like him could be caught in this predicament. It's all so stupid, he feels like hitting his head against the counter. Except that it would probably ruin his face, so he doesn't. But it would very well deserve it. Because only an idiot would get roped into working at a convenience store for a week, and the night shift at that. Granted, he's lucky. Anyone else trying to rob a convenience shop (stupid enough to rob a convenience shop) would have gotten jail, or something worse as a punishment. Luckily - or not - for him, the owner seems to be under the charm of his robber enough to make a deal with him : one week of free work will reimburse the window he broke and the prejudice, and he's free to go, without any charges pressed. Montparnasse doesn't like it, not with the way the man leered at him, but he can't really choose in this situation. Anything is better than jail.

And to make matters worse, that deal has been overseen by none other than Javert. Javert, who seems to have made his mission in life to make Montparnasse's a living hell. Montparnasse is sure he dreams of it at night, most delicious dreams where he locks him in a very dark jail and throws away the key. Not that he wants to think about what Javert dreams of at night. Of course he was the first to arrive when Montparnasse was caught, and of course, he was delighted when he could finally put his dirty hands on him. And of course, he was seething when the owner instead made his offer, to "give a poor boy another chance at life". Javert's face at this declaration will probably be Montparnasse's only comfort during that ordeal. Had the cop had a bit less restraint, he would have grabbed both of them and locked them somewhere. Instead, he glared at Montparnasse all through the negotiations, and left with the promise that he'd always keep an eye on him. Absolutely not creepy.

So here he is, bored out of his mind, sitting behind a counter made of very cheap plastic, with a register that has known better days staring at him, waiting for the crowd of weird people, idiots, drunks, self-proclaimed funny guys, thieves, creepy guys, or any combination of the above to roll by. It sounds very much like the plot of some kind of stupid movie where the hero is stuck in an uncomfortable situation that will change his life forever. For now, it doesn't seem very life-changing, more like life-numbing, and he's not the sullen hero of a teen movie. Just a very, very, very bored guy. Well, he thinks, it's only for a week. You can do it. Be on your best behaviour for a week, play the good guy, and you'll be free. One week. You can do it.

~*~

On Monday, nothing weird happens. Montparnasse stays behind the counter, vaguely nodding at people as they come and go, ringing the purchases. He doesn't make small talk, barely mumbling the prices. Maybe it's better like that. The shop is very cleverly set at the corner between two streets with a very high student population, and they make the main crowd during the night hours. So Montparnasse is the lucky soul blessed with the vision of countless students clad in old clothes or pajamas, wandering through the aisles and watching the displays under the crude light that give them blemish faces. This, and their shuffling gait between the shelves, give him the impression the zombie apocalypse has already happened and no one but him realizes yet. They all look half-dead, and exhausted, too much to talk to him. Good. Not that he wants to, anyway.

One of them, erroneously thinking that he may be interested in anything else than his money, mutters "Finals week, you know ?" above his change. Montparnasse just nods. No, he doesn't know, he doesn't care, either, can he just go and leave him to count the remaining seconds before he can dash out of here ? Luckily, the man grabs his cigarettes and goes away, to his relief. No one else tries to say anything, not even a small lady buying a bunch of sad-looking vegetables - who makes soup at one in the morning -, probably sensing his murderous mood.

As soon as he sees the door open to reveal the daytime clerk, Montparnasse rips the ridiculous cap off his hair, shoves it in his pocket, grabs his jacket and bag in the tiny cubicle they call a changing room, and rushes past the other, out in the street. The sun is not even out, barely shining behind the buildings around him, and the wind is cold, almost cutting. There are a few people hurrying down the side-walk a bit farther. For a Tuesday morning, it's really silent. During a few seconds, Montparnasse feels at peace, with the wind stroking his face and the first rays of sun reaching him. But the magic doesn't last. It's just 6AM on Tuesday, people are going to work, and he just spent ten hours locked in a convenience store, surrounded by weirdos. He's exhausted, hungry, and he's sure his hair is awful. And he smells of cheap cleaning soap and desperation now.

Luckily, he makes it home quickly enough. The others aren't home. Good. He wouldn't want them to see him in his apron. Or talk to him. The only thing he wants right now is food, sleep, and something freeing him from that store. Sadly, all he can find is some chicken leftover that escaped Gueulemer's appetite, and a bed that's not made but is horizontal and more or less comfortable. He'll have to find something to get free, he thinks, munching on his chicken. But for now, two out of three is not that bad of a score.

~*~

On Tuesday, Montparnasse is almost on time, and takes his place behind the counter, ignoring the disgruntled expression of his coworker while they leave. He pulls the cap out of his pocket, flattens it a little - no way he'd put it properly in front of a mirror at home, he'd have to cross the town with that hideous thing on his head - and put it where it belongs. He then leans on the counter and gets ready as must as he can for what is awaiting him.

The first hour is very quiet. Two people come in, buy a few things Montparnasse doesn't pay attention to, and leave. Good. The only downside is that time seems to get to a screeching halt each time he takes his eyes off the clock, but at least it's mostly silent, if he cuts off the muffled screams from the students, bar patrons and various other individuals making a show of themselves in the street.

The hand is barely past ten when the bell over the door ring loudly when it's all but slammed against the door and someone barges inside. Montparnasse looks up from the nail polish he's carefully applying, just fast enough to get a glimpse of something very colourful dashing between the aisles towards the back. The person is talking, or at least is using their voice. Unless it's the air-conditioning he can hear. Either way, Montparnasse doesn't care and goes back to his art.

It takes him a few seconds to notice that the buzzing noise is getting closer. It sounds a bit like words, mumbled together. The person, a boy with short hair, is wrapped in a scarf at least a kilometre long, in colours that clash horribly. He's muttering to himself, too fast for anyone not under a hefty dose of crack to understand a word, and drops a load of bandages on the counter. Montparnasse can only look, bewildered. There're at least fifteen boxes there, all the pre-cut ones they had in stock, a bunch of small ones for blisters, and two of the extra-long rolls. He half-tempted to ask what he plans to do with all that, but he doesn't. First, because he doesn't care. He's not there to make friends. And second, because he doesn't really want to know what a guy could do with that many band-aids. He's extremely clumsy, or maybe he's planning something sinister. Either way, none of his business. Montparnasse rings the supplies, and the boy piles them in his arms again. He smiles at him - smiles ! like they're friends and he's happy to see him or something - and leaves. Montparnasse just watches after him, bewildered. And shrugs. Not the first weirdo, not the last. And it's none of his business, what he wants to do with a hospital’s worth of bandages. Not at all.

No one comes in during the next hour and Montparnasse is ready to chalk the meeting with the Strange Guy With The Bandages to that one weird encounter you have to have one per night and hope that maybe the rest of the night will be as quiet, when the bells above the door tear his wishes to shreds. At least the man who enters is not talking to himself. He looks calm and collected, nerd glasses on his nose and a book stuck under his arm, not-too-bad undercut carefully combed on the side. He's wearing a sleeveless sweater on a shirt, and Montparnasse is half-tempted to roll his eyes loudly - because that's one of his talents -, but he goes back to his nail polish instead. If nothing else, at least the man isn’t wearing a bowtie to go with the rest of him that screams "already old and stuffy at twenty and probably horribly boring".

The guy is back two minutes later, and Montparnasse looks at his face because if he does, he doesn't have to look at the ugly thing he calls a sweater. And the guy probably proud of it. Luckily, he's not too bad looking, if one is into tall nerds. Which Montparnasse is decidedly not. The guy holds his gaze for a few agonizing seconds. Then he puts a whole case of energy drinks on the counter. Montparnasse can't help but look down, then back at his face. The man's expression doesn't change, save for a raised eyebrow, challenging him to say something.

Montparnasse slips back into his expressionless mask, and rings the cans, one by one, without breaking eye contact. The monotonous ringing is the only noise in the shop, and the man doesn't move or blink, to the point that Montparnasse starts wondering if he's really human or an alien trying to find something on Earth to fuel his spaceship.

He almost doesn't want to avert his eyes and see how long they can play this game, but he doesn't want the guy to think he's flirting with him or something. He glances at the price on the register, looks back up. The guy is grinning - grinning - at him. He holds up the money, still without looking, and Montparnasse doesn't even need to look at the coins to know it's the exact sum. He probably counted while Montparnasse was distracted, but he's not even sure of it, he looked away for maybe one second. He all but shoves the receipt in the other's face. The guy grabs it with his case, addresses Montparnasse – who can only glare in return - a very polite "good night", and strolls out. Montparnasse can only stare after him in disbelief, not really sure of what just happened.

He regrets it immediately, because the next guy who comes in is an eyesore. It's a shame, because he's tall, buff, and quite handsome in a lumberjack kind of way, and not the fake-lumberjack-true-hipster way. The true and tried man-from-the-mountains-who-carries-chopped-trees-for-fun lumberjack. This would be a sight to behold, especially with the tattoos on his arms. Except that all this muscular glory is clad in the most godawful shirt Montparnasse has ever met. To say that the man got dressed without the lights on would be a good guess ; that shirt is such a shade of neon that it probably glows in the dark. Montparnasse can't even look at it for more than five seconds, and he lowers his eyes. Big mistake : the socks he's wearing are exactly the same shade. He fixates on the counter, where a shirt-shaped blob keeps swaying back and forth on the white plastic, so stark that he's sure they're burnt on his retinae forever. Or they will be once the guy walks to the register and he's faced with a very large expanse of neon fabric.

Montparnasse dives under the counter, grabs his bag, and riffles through it with the fury of a man lost in the desert looking for his last ration of water. For a minute, he thinks he has left them at home, and he's going to have to endure the neon nuisance without any protection. But just before he abandons all hope and runs out of here, his fingers find the protective case, hidden behind his emergency waistcoat. Quickly, he pushes the shades on his nose, and gets up as the man walks up to the counter. Said man looks him up and down in a way that doesn't make Montparnasse very comfortable, stops on the dark lenses.

- Nice glasses, he simply says.

Of course, nice. They are Prada, Montparnasse thinks. But to be fair, he expected something way more aggressive from someone who seems to exude fratboy out of every pore. And wears neon. He nods, because nice or not, he's not going to start small-talking with anyone. The man doesn't seem to formalize. He grabs his bottle of gin, pays, addresses a salute to Montparnasse and leaves. He's followed later by a bunch of customers, no one dressed as badly as him. Still, Montparnasse keeps the shades. At least it weirds people out, and they don't try to talk to him. Perfect. Now, if only they could not come in, things would be as perfect as they can in that situation.

And of course with that line of thinking, it doesn't last. He's well in his last hour of work before sweet, sweet release, and already counting the minutes that still prevents him from enjoying his freedom, when in comes none other than the man responsible for his predicament. Javert strolls to the counter, stops two feet from it, and stands there, hands in his back, feet martially apart, eyeing Montparnasse up and down. The silence stretches, very uncomfortable, and Montparnasse lets it, because he'll be damned if he talks to a policeman without being prompted. Not that it would be funny to see Javert's face when he uses his corporate voice on him, but no. He just crosses his arms and glares him down. Well, tries to.

- Are you behaving ? Javert finally asks

Montparnasse doesn't move, doesn't blink.

- Are you behaving ? Javert repeats, louder.

Montparnasse makes a show of rolling his eyes, remembering too late that Javert can't see it behind his shades. He adds a flick of his head and a heavy sigh to get the message across.

- Yes, Mr Officer. I'm behaving. Like a good clerk.

Javert doesn't smile. Then again, Montparnasse is sure that he doesn't know how.

- You know what you have to expect if you step out of line.

- Yes, Batman. You'll throw me in the deepest, darkest cell you have and leave me to rot. Or you'll drink my blood, I'm not really sure which one. Sacrifice me to The Law.

Javert frowns, and for a second, Montparnasse is sure he's going to explode and arrest him on the spot. Which kind of annoys him, he doesn't really want another mark on his file. Especially since that one will be way heavier than the last. But Javert seems to discover a hint of humour hidden under all his layers of sternness and righteousness, and he just scoffs.

- Be careful, boy. I'll keep my eye on you.

- Oh, I don't doubt it.

It's maybe better that Javert seems to be impervious to the sarcasm dripping from his words. He glares him down for ten very uncomfortable seconds, then turns around and stomps out of the shop, his coat floating behind him like weirdly-shaped bat wings. Montparnasse just lets his head fall on the counter and stays like this until his coworker comes in. This time, he doesn't even take to take his cap off, just grabs his bag blindly and runs out of the shop, bumping into the other. He doesn't stop, doesn't hold at red lights, just dashes right home, buries himself in his bed, and tries to forget this day even existed and that he still has almost a week to go. Without any luck.

~*~

On Wednesday, Montparnasse almost falls back asleep after his alarm rings, and he has to run to be on time, which he hates, because he has to cut his skin care regimen short and spend less time on his hair, and he can already feel greasy and pimply twenty feet outside his home. But there's no time to run back and fix it, so he just pulls his cap over his hair as much as he does and prays that no one he knows will see him like this.

The universe must hate him, because he's not behind his counter for half an hour, when who comes in but Eponine. She doesn't spot him right away, and he's tempted to dive under the counter and hide there until she leaves. He doesn't, because not only will he ruin what's left of his brushing, but she'll probably drag him out of here. So he just stands and wait. He doesn't even try to pray that she doesn't say anything. That would be a waste of a prayer, and he needs all the good will he can gather to go through the rest of the week.

Finally, Eponine walks to the counter with a handful of snacks she dumps on the counter. She's playing with her phone, and Montparnasse has a sliver of hope that she'll keep doing it and not even looking at him. But when he announces her total, she does. And stares. A large smile appears on her face, the kind that makes Montparnasse want to run away very far and very fast.

- Well, well, she drawls. What do we have here ?

Montparnasse doesn't answer, just glares. With no effect, of course.

- Look at you, she adds, way too delighted with the situation. All... prim and proper. Respectable, even.

- Watch your mouth.

- Or what ? You'll refer to your manager ?

Montparnasse refrains from anything drastic that he may regret. Not while he's here, at least. Revenge will have to wait. Eponine leans on the counter, and asks with a very large, very scary smile :

- Do you know what I want ?

- No, enlighten me. To run away and never come back ? Dye your hair blond ? Pontmercy paying attention to you ?

Eponine's smile disappears so fast he can almost hear it break. He's aware that he crossed a line with the Pontmercy part ; this is still a very sensitive point for her, and he fucked up a little. He doesn't apologize because he never does, but he shrugs, does that vague gesture with his hands that the others in Patron-Minette and Eponine know mean he realizes he did something wrong but didn't really mean to.

- Ring that shit, Eponine growls.

She doesn't hit him, at least. Montparnasse starts scanning her purchase. A flash startles him, and his head snaps up. Eponine's phone is pointed towards him, and she's grinning again.

- What the fuck ? he hisses.

- Payback, bitch. That may teach you to shut up, next time.

- And what are you going to do with that ? Montparnasse asks cautiously.

- Dunno. Maybe I'll blow it to poster size and put it on every wall in town, if you keep yapping like that.

- I'm mute.

He finishes running her purchases at light speed, hoping to get rid of her. Sadly, she just hops on the counter to sit on it, and keeps playing on her stupid phone. He wonders if he can either grab the phone and erase the pic, or push her down the counter and take advantage of the confusion. But he doesn't really want to hurt her. And she can hurt him back anyway. So he just leans against the wall of cigarettes, arms crossed, and keeps silent.

The doorbells chime again. Montparnasse doens't look up from his nails right away, because he's not interested in anything here. He only reacts when he hears Eponine gasp slightly. And almost does the same. The person who just entered is a disaster. Not in the way of Neon Dude last night ; that one at least managed to get some fitting, assorted clothes. This one.... does not. The plaid shirts are too big on their slight frame, the shoulders falling halfway down their arms. On the other side (ha !), the pants are way too short, more-so when they are rolled up and held by several colorful pins. And it doesn't even take in consideration the mess of patterns that's their outfit. One shirt is red and black, the other blue and white, and the top they are wearing looks solid, but Montparnasse is almost sure he's seen a hint of tie-dye. And are they wearing.... overalls ? He rubs his eyes, looks again. Yes, they are overalls. Denim overalls. With a front pocket ornamented with words stitched in bright green. Montparnasse didn't even think that people outside of kindergarten still wore overalls. That nightmare of an outfit is completed by army boots an ugly shade of green, with neon blue laces dragging on the floor. A small crystal hangs from their neck, catching the bleak light. There are several pins scattered on their outer shirt, as on the battered messenger bag hanging on their shoulder. Oh gods, even the bag is colourful, but drops of paint and ink rather than tie-dye. Thanks heaven for small miracles, Montparnasse thinks dryly.

He's so focused on the clothes that it takes him a few seconds to notice the person wearing them. They are tall, taller than him even, with those pant legs way above their ankles. Lanky, too, but he's not too sure ; it's a bit hard to see with those shirts hanging off them like on a coat-hanger. They have long, copper hair, gathered in a messy braid coiling on their shoulder. Flowers are caught in them, and colourful hairpins do their best to hold back a few strands away from their face.

They finally turn around to riffle around in their bag, and Montparnasse gets a clear view of their face. And they are... beautiful. Of course they are. They are in a teen movie, where the sullen hero gets forced into an uncomfortable situation, and suddenly someone comes in, the world stops pining, and everything becomes worth it because they just fell in love at first sight. Except that Montparnasse doesn't fall in love at first sight. Love is for pining idiots and Pontmercys. Not for him, not at all. He just doesn't care. But the person has high cheekbones, and a pointy nose, and more freckles on their cheeks, nose and forehead, like a galaxy. Their face is framed by a few strands of hair that draw pretty little curls on their skin and blow around as soon as they move.

They walk to the register, carrying a bunch of merchandise. And as does every person who sports extra long laces and doesn't tie them : they stumble, and all their stuff scatter on the counter. Montparnasse has to jump back to avoid a heavy box of sugar. Luckily for his shoes, the cardboard doesn't rip. He picks it up, puts it back on the counter, stops an apple from running away.

- Thank you, you saved my grocery.

Montparnasse looks up, ready to tell them to go fuck themselves and stick that sarcasm where the sun doesn't shine. However, all that comes out of his mouth is a strangled "ngk". The person is looking at them, smiling. But it's not the - very nice, very gentle - smile that hits him. It's the eye-colour. Or rather, colours. Both are clear and soft, but the left one is green as leaves, while the right one is a rich golden brown. Montparnasse doesn't want to think they shine like gemstones because he's still not a sullen and smitten goth boy. But they do shine under the neon lights, or maybe just from their personality... He almost punches himself in the face. Eponine is snickering lightly, not missing anything, and he's sure he'll hear about it later. He'll hear about it a lot. Play it cool, he thinks, *focus. You can do it. You're a pro.* Well no, he's not, but he can act the part. At least until the weird, pretty person leaves, and then he can scream all he wants.

He scans all the things, one by one, all the while trying to remember what he's supposed to say. He can feel the person's gaze on him, nailing him in place, invading his personal space. The world reduces to this, that presence, the rhythm of the beeping. Finally, everything is scanned without him making a fool of himself. The person opens their wallet, pulls out a note.

- Sorry, they apologize, I don't have change.

- Don't problem.

What ?. Eponine snickers, and he really wants to push her down the counter, but he can't. Even if he really, really wants. The person just tilts their head, a hint of confusion on their face.

- Don't worry. No problem, Montparnasse quickly amends.

He starts counting the change, starting over when he loses trace. His hands are shaking, the person can see it, Eponine can see it, the whole world can see it, and he doesn't know why. He needs to focus. Focus until the world reduces itself to his register, and he presses the right buttons at last. It's just a goddamn twig dressed like a hippie fresh out of the garden, he repeats himself, don't pay attention, they'll leave once they're done. Good riddance. But his hands still shake a little when he hands them a handful of coins. They put it in their front pocket, gather their purchase, smile at him once more, and leave, their braid falling from their shoulder to dance on their back, like a pendulum. Montparnasse watches it swing until they're out of the door, their gaudy shirts getting lost in the crowd.

- Careful, you idiot, your eyeballs are gonna fall out.

Eponine's voice snaps him back to Earth. He glares at her, but she's not openly laughing at him. No, she's staring at him, almost... seriously ? He can see the gears grinding in her mind, and he doesn't like it. At all.

- Why are you still there ? he groans. Don't you have better things to do ?

- Than see you act like a complete idiot ? I'd pay actual money for that.

- Then pay.

- Nope.

- Then leave.

- And miss your stupid face next time Flowerchild comes in ?

- I do not....

- Oh yes, she cuts him. You totally do. Googly eyes and all that. Admit it. You like them.

- I do not. Shut up.

Miraculously, she obeys him. He walks to the cigarette wall, starts sorting them again, even if he knows they are perfectly sorted. But it has the merit of cutting him from the rest of the shop and let him collect his thoughts. There's a strange noise in his ears, a low rumbling one that sounds a little like the sea coming and going. At least he doesn't need to focus on the cigarettes until he gets tunnel vision. But on the other hand, his mind seems to run idle, and he feels strangely.... light. Probably getting down with something. And it has nothing to do with that strange person, whatever Eponine might think.

When he finishes, his mind is back to its usual, sharpen self, and the noise in his ears has receded. He still feels a bit faint, probably a hint of fever, nothing that a bit of rest will cure. Eponine keeps looking at him, but she doesn't harp on anymore about what just happened, and he's grateful for this. They keep chatting about this and that, until she realizes that it's late, Gavroche is waiting for her and she needs to go home. She gathers her snacks, punches him in the arm and leaves. Montparnasse just leans on the counter and gets ready to be bored out of his mind.

As soon as he's free, he runs all the way home, barely takes time to gobble something that can pass as food, and dives in his bed, horrid hair and all. He squeezes his eyes shut really hard, hopes against all hopes that this sudden fever won't ruin his beauty sleep. He doesn't even have time to finish that thought, that he's already fast asleep.

#les miserables #montparnasse #jehan prouvaire #jehanparnasse #modern!AU #the life and times of a sullen convenience shop enployee

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roses-of-rutherglen · 4 years

Text

Uniquely Normal- chapter 2

-Seamus-

Seamus had been waiting for his Hogwarts letter ever since he accidentally set the cats tail on fire when he was two and a half. So when it arrived upon on his eleventh birthday there was much celebration in the Finnegan household.

The trip to Diagon Alley was planned over a weekend as they would have to travel from Portarlington to London. Seamus couldn't sleep for excitement in the nights leading up to the trip, this would also be the first time his dad had been to Diagon Alley despite knowing about his wife being a witch for the last fifteen years of their marriage. The sun rose bright and early as the family of three hopped in the car bound for London with their suitcases, prepared for a long weekend of shopping and learning about the world that two of them were entering that year.

Seamus was almost bored to death after the innumerably long trip, finally stepping stiffly out of the car and trying to work some feeling back into his legs. They could have flooed but his mother was insistent on travelling as non magical people do and making sure they stay in touch with both the Muggle and Wizarding sides to their lives.

They walked through the streets of London's shopping district before coming to a shabby looking pub with the peeling sign reading 'The Leaky Caldron'. Funnily the rest of the population seemed to scan right over the pub looking from the record store on the right to the coffee store on the left.

"Come along you two" his mam beckoned "it may not seem like much but ye'll be surprised." Both males shook their heads and followed the over enthusiastic Irish witch into the dingy pub.

"Hey mam, why'd we stop comin' here again? Cause I distinctly remember comin' here when I was a wee one" his mother chuckled.

"You and I stopped coming when you started having random outbursts of setting things on fire and nearly burnt down Magical Menagerie when you got too excited about the "wee cute mousies" she put air quotes around the last few words and Seamus groaned burying his head in his hands.

"Ah yes, I do seem to remember your particular flair for pyrotechnics that Ye haven't quite grown out of" smiled his dad "good for St Pats but not much for every day." Seamus looked away pretending not to know who his parents were before being dragged along to a wall at the back of the building.

His mam took out her wand and tapped the first brick to the left above the dustbins. Watching with awe as the bricks shifted and reformed revealing a street that seemed filled with magic and life. Store displays danced and the street was filled with light, chatter, and children around his age and older coming in and out of the many stores along the street. Everything was painted in bright colours catching his attention and drawing him away from his parents to stare at moving displays or glittering advertisements. People filled the street and several times he nearly got lost, dragged away in the current of people.

"Come on Seamus, keep up" called his dad as they started walking up the street towards the huge white building that looked like it should be a royal palace. Painted pearly white with all the decoration you could think of. He quickly hurried to catch up to his parents. They passed the security goblins before entering a huge hall.

The floor was marble and the clerk's desks made of rich coloured wood. The Finnegan family headed for a free clerk that was next to a boy with dark skin and his mother who looked to be exchanging muggle money for Galleons, sickles and knuts.

"Alright mate?” Seamus greeted the boy, he nodded looking bashful before Seamus continued, "me names Seamus" the boy smiled and replied

"My names Dean" the two shook hands

"first year at Hogwarts I'm guessing?" Seamus queried Dean smiled

"yeah, big shock to my parents honestly I think they wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer" they both chuckled and Seamus was for once grateful for his half muggle upbringing. Dean looked like he was about to say something else but Seamus' mother called out for him to follow her "One second Ma," he called back at her "what were Ye gonna say mate?" Dean shook his head

"doesn't matter, see you on the first" they waved their goodbyes and the two headed off leaving the boy to the back of his mind as he and his parents walked out of the bank and down the street.

"Alright I'll go and get your books," said his mam "and you two head on down to Olivander's then we'll get everything else we need." She hugged both of them and was off before they could say a word. Seamus looked around a little nervously before his Dad called out and they walked down the street.

"I know I'm not the best with this Seamus, but I hope Ye know I'm trying me best" his Dad stuttered nearly running into a witch with long purple hair and robes that people kept tripping over. Seamus smiled

"I know ye're doin' your best and I definitely appreciate that. We'be both been thrown pretty much into the deep end here." They both chuckled and looked up to find themselves in front of one of the shabbier shops within the street. The peeling gold letters over the door read 'Ollivander's makers of fine wands since 382 BC.' A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion on the window and the door made a slight tingling noise as they entered. A man who looked as old and shabby as his shop appeared behind the counter.

"Ah, hello there how are you both doing today?" Asked the man in a voice that sounded way too young for his years.

"Okay thanks, a wee bit nervous but getting more comfortable, how're ye going today sir," Seamus answered and the man smiled.

"An Irish man eh? Don't get many here they tend to go to Varitas' in Dublin but I'm glad to meet you. What might your name be?" The man called wandering off into the stacks of shelves lined with narrow rectangular boxes

"Er, Seamus Finnegan sir." Seamus called back watching as the man returned with several boxes under his arms.

"Ah yes, I remember when your mother first came in for her wand, wonderful woman with a sweetheart and strong beliefs."

"I think we can easily say stubborn." Interjected Seamus' father, gaining a chuckle from Seamus and a knowing grin from the older man.

"Try this one why don't you" Ollivander suggested taking the cover off the box closest to Seamus. He took the box lifting out the jet black wand inside it. "Yew, 10 inches and a core of unicorn hair slightly springy, good for charms." Seamus picked the wand up unsure of what to do next. " Well go on give it a flick" Olivander prompted Seamus did so and the chair that his Dad had just been about to sit in flew out from his grasp and into the wall losing one of its legs.

“Nope" stated Ollivander handing him the next wand, "13 inches, cherry wood and a dragon heart strung core, give it a swirl." Seamus did so and a painfully high pitched ringing emitted from the wand. "Drop it, no again a slightly tricky customer" Ollivander smiled. Seamus was confused how in any way that could be a good thing but before he could ask Olivander was back.

“I think this will be the one," he said handing it over. It was a light coloured wand with a black line spiraling down the handle section. "Oak and ebony 12 inches and a Phoenix feather core, definitely one of our more unusual combinations but let's try it." Seamus lifted the wand and gently swished it, golden sparks appeared from the end and a warm sensation ran up his arm he smiled.

Olivander did too "well, we found one this is one of the first wands I ever made and it has never been able to find a person, these two kinds of wood mix strength and flexibility into one while the Phoenix feather core shows you are pure of heart and will to do the best for everyone. This is a wonderful match and as I'm sure you saw, the wand chooses the wizard."

He held his hand out and Seamus shook it before paying the thirteen galleons for the wand and walking out with it in the box. They met his Mam outside the ice cream parlor and started walking down the street.

"Since you took so long in there I got yer books, potion ingredients and robes. All we gotta do now is go to Magical Menagerie without you setting something on fire and get you a pet." She smiled talking a million miles an hour, the two boys smiled at each other before following her down towards the brightly painted shop.

They ended up getting a jet black fluffy kitten with eyes like a galaxy, named him Ebony and headed back towards the wall that had formed their entrance, which from this side looked like an old wooden door and headed back through the streets of London towards the car park.

But as they drove back to the hotel and he thought back on his day, the boy from Gringotts, Dean, popped back into his mind and he regretted not talking to the obviously muggle-born boy more. Maybe he could have helped him find his way or even offered to save him a seat on the train, but what was done was done and he just had to hope he could find him again when school started.

All of a sudden he felt very alone, being the only child in the neighbourhood with magic was tough. Whilst he had plenty of friends he had no one he could really talk to about magic apart from his mother who was at work a lot and though his father tried he really couldn't relate. He couldn't wait to get to Hogwarts, and to see Dean again.

<- chapter 1 here!!! Chapter 3 here!!->

#writeblr #my writing #writing #harry potter #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfiction #deamus fic #deamus #fanfic #fanfiction

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