#i just over shoot customer service a little bit

[plainemmanem]

Can you do a Steve Harrington request about to kiss trope with the dialogue “you’re staring” “so are you”?

stevie in his silly little family video vest with his silly little name-tag, answering his silly little calls with his silly little customer service voice <3

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You’re so fucking pretty.

It hurts, honestly. When Steve’s eyes trail over to you at work.

It’s painful.

You’re not even doing anything. You’re literally restocking the shelves and you look so fucking beautiful it hurts.

Light streams in from the front window, illuminating your skin. The beauty marks and imperfections up your arms, your wrists, your collarbones.

It takes everything in him not to reach out and feel your warmth every shift.

The front door opens with a ding, indicating a customer, but Steve can’t tear his eyes away from you. The door closes, letting in a gust of wind and ruffling the soft ends of your hair, shooting a shiver up your spine. His hand clenched the mouse a bit tighter upon seeing the slight goosebumps traveling up your arm.

He tears his eyes away for a brief moment to keep up appearances, glancing at the computer screen. His eyes are back on you a second later, his teeth nibbling at his bottom lip as he watches you scratch at an old sticker on one of the tapes absentmindedly.

Your uniform is a little tattered, your shirt hangs off one of your shoulders and a bit of your bra strap peaks out at him. A hand comes up to readjust your neckline as you crouch down to start on the tapes on the bottom shelf.

Old, scuffed sneakers adorn your feet, and Steve nearly loses his mind when he notices the socks you have on. They have a ruffled edge, hugging your ankle, and little hearts peak up over your shoe as you kneel down.

His eyes were back on the computer screen again, not even reading the words, just scanning his eyes across letters and hoping that his staring isn’t too obvious. He’s been harboring a crush ever since you started.

When Robin had mentioned a few weeks ago that one of her friends would be applying, Steve’s curiosity was peaked, and it was all downhill from there.

“What’s she like?” He leaned onto the counter right next to her suggestively, one arm holding him up and the other resting on his hip. A brow quirked up.

As she scribbled in 4-down, she glanced up at him. She caught his overly-interested gaze, immediately slamming her puzzle book closed.

"No! No, Steve, don't even give me that look," she scolded, a warning hand held up in his direction as she walked away from the counter and towards the back room.

Steve's face dropped to pure confusion.

"What?" he shouted at her retreating form. "What look?"

Robin spun abruptly, shooting him a stern look and an accusatory finger.

"That look you get anytime I mention anyone I know who's a girl." She was stalking back over to him now, angrily. "You get this, this... King Steve look all over your face and I will not be indulging you this time-"

She spun again, heading to the back room with much more purpose than before. Steve quickly followed after her.

"'King Steve look? Wh-"

Robin continued her previous rant, cutting him off over her shoulder.

“I am not letting you get your grubby little guy hands all over her. I actually like this girl; she's cool and funny, and way outta your league might I add-"

"Thanks-"

Robin swings the back door open, dropping it in Steve's face. He catches it with his palm, mouth pressing into an annoyed line.

"And I don't want our friendship to be ruined because you... tainted her."

She stalked towards the cart full of returns and white-knuckled the handle bar, once again shooting Steve a warning look.

"C'mon now, 'tainted' seems a little harsh-"

"And she could possibly be coming to work here, and I just don't wanna ruin the one good girl friendship I have right now."

She was still clearly annoyed, but her face fell a little in defeat, well aware of Steve's track record with the other girls Robin's introduced him to.

Ever since Nancy, Steve's been a bit of a player. A bad one, but a player none the less. The most recent girl was Louise — Robin's lab partner. Robin hasn't talked to Louise in a while, not after Steve's disastrous date with her last Friday. Chemistry has been particularly awkward.

Steve's face fell at Robin's concern. He really did feel bad about Louise, and all the other girls Robin's had to cut ties with because of him.

"Right..." Steve stuffed his hands into his jeans, sneaker scuffing the grimy carpet beneath his feet. "Yeah, right, I'm sorry." He looked up at her seriously, hoping to get across his sincerity without too many words.

"It's alright, Steve. I... I know things have been kinda weird for you."

Nancy. Everything led back to Nancy, and Steve was sick of it.

He took a tentative step towards her, arm coming out to grab onto her elbow, fixing her with a serious gaze.

"No funny business from me, alright? Nothing more than a handshake, I swear."

She gave him a half-hopeful, half-skeptical look, before letting out a breath.

"Promise?" she questioned, sticking her pinky up to him.

He latched his pinky with hers, squeezing just a tad.

"Promise."

Turns out, that promise would grow painfully difficult to keep.

——————————————————————————

You'd only been working at Family Video for about two weeks, and already Steve was a lovesick puppy around you. Of course, he always denied it, but it seemed to be obvious to just about everyone just how helpless he was for you.

Always offering you rides to work, even though you lived twenty minutes out of his way. Hiding any mistakes you make from Keith, even if it means staying an hour late to rearrange the horror section. Hell, he'd give you the shirt off his back if you asked.

But, today had been particularly challenging. It was just you, Robin, and Steve.

"Why don't you take a picture?" Robin huffs, dropping a stack of tapes on the counter next to the computer. Steve’s eyesquickly snap from you to the exasperated girl beside him. "It'll last longer." She mutters to him, turning around to peak over at you.

Steve's cheeks felt hot, but he tried to play it cool, eyes now locked with the computer screen.

"I dunno what you mean." His attempt to sound causal comes out a little stilted and he winced a little to himself.

"Oh, please," she grunts as she hops up on the counter. "You moon after her just about every time you see her. I'm surprised she hasn't quit yet."

A nervous chill runs up his spine and his blood runs cold, both at the idea of you quitting and the idea that you possibly know of his little crush. Sure, you’ve dropped a few sneaky hints — little remarks here and there that you may mirror his affections — but Steve was always too afraid to get his hopes up.

In his peripheral, Steve watches you gather up the rest of the tapes, now making your way towards the counter. He begins running through some lines in his head. How's it going? Too basic. How's restockin'? Too dorky. Have I mentioned I might be in love with you—

"Hey, guys." Your chipper tone rings out as you head behind the counter, your stack of tapes wobbling.

Steve drops the mouse immediately at your voice and turns to look at you — trying extremely hard to appear casual — when he spots the tapes slowly shifting in your arms. He rushes over, grabbing the stack and righting them for you, peeking around to give you a sheepish look.

"Heh, thanks." You shoot him a shy, grateful look as he takes the top half of the stack. "You'd think after working here for two weeks now, I'd get the hang of the whole restocking thing." You laugh nervously and set your half of the tapes on the counter next to Robin, shooting her an embarrassed grimace.

"Oh, don't worry. Stevie, here, has been working here for months now and he still has yet to learn how to hang a window display."

Steve shoots Robin a warning look from behind your back, but his anger drops upon hearing a small giggle leave your lips. You spin back around to face him with a warm smile, arms crossing over your chest smugly.

"That's funny, cause just the other day, our boy Steve said it was you who couldn’t figure it out."

A shocked gasp comes from Robin and you can hear her feet hit the ground as she hops off the counter, then her stomping towards the guilty-looking boy.

"Steve!" She hit him in the shoulder.

"Oow!" He said it almost like a question, like a “What was that for?"

"You." Smack. "Are." Smack. "Such." Smack. "A." Smack. "Dick." Smack.

"Jesus, Robs, could you-" his remark dies on his lips a tad at the sound of your cackling. He gives you a smarmy look as your eyes twist shut and your arms cross your middle in laughter. Quickly, he catches himself staring once again, and turns his annoyance back on Robin. "Could ya not hit me so hard?"

She storms off towards the back once again.

"Please?" Steve calls out after her, arms raised theatrically in the air. He turns his gaze back on you, fixing you with an exasperated look. But, he can’t stay mad for long when you're smiling so big at him.

"You just had to tell her, didn't you?" He sighs, a little to exaggeratedly to be genuine, and you chuckle as he turns back to the computer. "I bruise easily, ya know."

You shuffle a bit closer towards him as you peak at the computer screen. The warmth of your front seeps into his arm and his grip on the mouse gets a touch tighter.

"Sorry, but my loyalties lie with her." You tease, reading all the returns on the screen. "Oh, geez, we're not gonna get Dirty Dancing back in? Shit."

"You're telling me you'd pick Robin over me in a fight?" He peaks down at you with furrowed brows. Then he turns back to the screen disappointedly. "Yeah, it sucks. I really liked that one too; Swayze's so fucking cool," he mumbles to himself.

You chuckle at the duel conversations taking place and turn to lean against the counter next to him, a little close for comfort.

"I mean, I've known Robin longer, so yeah, I suppose I’d choose her... You like Swayze? The guy seems a little pompous to me." Your shoulders shrug as you look towards the back of the store, avoiding Steve's gaze. You’re well aware of Steve's love for Swayze.

"Wh— ‘Pompous?' That better mean, 'one of the coolest guys on the planet.' Have you seen him in The Outsiders— You know what— No, you cannot distract me with your distaste for Swayze." He closes his eyes and shakes his head to right himself before turning fully to face you. "You're telling me, just because you've known Robin longer, if I asked you who you liked better, you would pick Robin over me?"

You contemplate for a minute, exaggeratedly - holding your chin and squinting your eyes dramatically.

"Hmm, I dunno. I mean, what do you have to offer that she doesn’t?"

"What do I have— Ok." His hands go up, ready to give you the rundown. "One," he counts out on his fingers, "I'm extremely funny—"

"Well, I feel that goes without saying," you quip.

"Two, I have a car—"

"No explanation needed."

"Three, I'm unbearably generous. I give you half of my lunch every time you forget to bring something—"

"Even though I tell you not to."

"And four, I'm painfully good-looking. Have you seen the hair?"

"And modest, too."

You give him a smug smirk, and he returns it with an irritated look, a smile still creeping onto his features.

You're so smart. And quick-witted. And pretty. And sweet. And— oh god, where is Robin?

Steve breaks eye-contact with you and glances around the store, desperately searching for Robin. He can't be alone with you for this long.

He peaks at his watch. 4:58. Thank god. Two minutes until he can leave. Of course, he doesn't really want to leave. He'd spend all day here with you if he could, but he's been trying really hard to keep things friendly, and he really doesn't know how long he'll be able to contain himself if you keep being so... you.

"You ok?" you question, a touch of concern creeping onto your features.

"Huh?" He looks back at you, eyes wide. "Oh, uh, no, yeah, I'm all good, I think I'm just gonna head out now." He rambles, walking out from behind the counter, a little too quick to be just casual.

"Aren't you gonna clock out?" You ask humorously, tilting your head towards the computer, your forearms resting on the counter coolly.

"Oh," he spins back around, an embarrassed blush crawling up his neck. "Yeah, right."

He shuffles back to the computer and opens the timecard software.

"Duh," he utters to himself absentmindedly, still trying to appear nonchalant.

"Duh." You mimic, a touch of amusement slipping into your tone.

He hits a few stray buttons and clocks himself out, turning to face you one last time.

You're close — really close — and Steve starts to freak out a bit, running his fingers through his hair and taking a tentative step back, bumping into the counter behind him.

"Well, uh," he chuckles nervously, "I-I'll see ya."

A smile ghosts over your features, and you take a small step towards him, just an inch or two away from his front. Leisurely, your warm palm comes up to rest on his bicep, just above the elbow, right on his bare skin.

He goes a bit frantic, eyes snapping down to the spot where you two meet, then back up to your eyes, a touch of helplessness in his expression.

You lean slightly into his chest, dropping your voice an octave, your breath fanning over his neck.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Steve." A little smirk graces over your lips and Steve jerks into action, sliding out from the counter and all but jogging to the front door, your warm touch on his arm still burning his skin.

"Uh, yeah," he raises his voice, walking backwards towards the door to maintain eye contact with you. "Bye! I'll uh, see you tomorrow, ok? Bye, Rob!" He turns on his heel, lifting his hand in the air to wave goodbye to you over his shoulder before he shoves the door open, running out into the parking lot, hands rubbing over his face frustratedly.

Just then, Robin pops out from the back; you're still staring after the vest-clad boy as he hops into his car.

"Someone's in a hurry," she mutters, alluding to his hasty exit. "What was that about?"

You smirk to yourself, watching as Steve rakes another hand through his hair, peaking back at the store and locking eyes with you for a brief moment. He immediately looks away, starting the ignition and peeling out of the parking lot.

A chuckle leaves you.

"Think I make him nervous."

——————————————————————————

The next day is even worse.

With Keith hiding away in the back, it's been just you and Steve out front all day.

You definitely know. You have to know the effect you have on him, especially after his behavior yesterday.

Steve's usually never this jumpy, but something about your soft touch and your melodic voice and your sickeningly sweet smell sets him off.

It doesn’t help the store is completely empty.

Absolutely bored out of his mind, Steve gives himself a little shake before focusing back on the computer before him, scanning over the list of names.

The Terminator - 10/10 CHECKED OUT

Pretty In Pink - 8/10 CHECKED OUT

Dirty Dancing - NO LONGER AVAILABLE

Blue Velvet - 6/10 CHECKED OUT

He peeks at his watch. Still about three more hours, and he's already run out of things to do. A sigh rakes through him as he mindlessly turns his eyes back to the log.

Labyrinth - NO LONGER AVAILABLE

True Stories - 1/10 CHECKED OUT

Eyes beginning to glaze over, the words no longer hold any meaning. He's just scrolling and scrolling through the list now, aimlessly trying to appear busy, when some movement behind the screen catches his eye.

Bunches of tapes are being placed in a stack towards the front of the store by gentle, purposeful hands. Your hands.

Today you're wearing your vest over a band t-shirt that Steve doesn't recognize. His jacket is draped over your shoulders - he insisted you use it after he saw your shiver when you walked in today, claiming he wasn't cold, as goosebumps pricked up his arms. The light grey of the jacket pairs well with your dark, bell-bottom jeans, a staple in your wardrobe that Steve has quickly come to recognize. The back pockets have small, embroidered flowers and you love to stick the old stickers on the thigh once you peel them off old returns. New dangly earrings glimmer through your hair as you work. Steve been waiting to mention them; he was just thinking of a non-creepy way to bring it up.

With the display finished, you gathered up the rest of the tapes and extra signs and headed to the counter. Steve quickly made himself look busy.

"Workin' hard or hardly workin'?" You tease as you make your way behind the register, setting the extra supplies on a lower shelf, out of view of the customers.

"Oh, you know me. I just... love doing inventory." He gave you a playful smirk, which you return knowingly.

"I know its a passion of yours," you chuckle and crouch down a bit, riffling through the cupboards until you find what you're looking for.

Steve hums, turning back to the keys and clacking away, trying desperately to get a peek at what you have in his peripheral.

You toss a pen and Robin’s old crossword book on the counter and shoot him a look.

"Think she'll mind?" you ask, leaning against the counter and making yourself comfortable.

Steve shrugs, "We'll just tell her it was Keith."

You chuckle and flip the book open. Your tongue pops out quickly as you lick your index finger for a better grip on the pages. Steve swallows a bit rougher then normal.

"You good at crosswords?" you ask nonchalantly as you flip to an empty page.

"Not particularly. Robin's usually the brains of the operation."

"You wanna help? I'm awful. Maybe if we stick our brainpower together, we'll have one working braincell." You smirk at your own joke and start to read through the clues up the side.

A small hum leaves him as he slides into your side. He's touching you, but only slightly, his jacket brushing against his arm as he leans over your shoulder to read the book himself.

"Ah, 11-down," he points it out on the paper, "'Sunburn treatment.' Sunscreen, easy."

"Steve,” you snort, “11-down is only four letters." You chuckle, filling in the word. Aloe. Peaking over your shoulder, you shoot a smirk his way.

"Right, right. I was just testing you."

"Right, uh-huh. Sure," you mutter, giggling to yourself.

"Ok, ok, here. 26-across.” He’s a bit more confident this time. “'Waterloo singers.' ABBA."

You side-eye him. "You know ABBA, Stevie?"

"Well— I mean, I've heard a couple songs."

Your eyes glint at him. "Right."

"Just fill it in." He huffs, leaning back down over your shoulder to lock eyes with the book.

The smell of your shampoo fills his nose and it takes everything in him not to reach out and pull your hair to the side to get a look at your pretty neck.

Clearing his throat a little, turns back to the stack of things you shoved away earlier under the register.

"Ok, what about this one. 65-across. 'God of Love.'"

He stops and thinks for a moment, stumped.

"I'm terrible with shit like this,” he mutters. “I dunno… Aphrodite?"

"God, Steve, not Goddess. Four letters... Maybe Eros?"

"See. You're smart. Why would you need my help?" he asks, gathering up the supplies for the next display and heading to the front window.

"Cause you looked bored. Thought I might entertain you." You follow after him, crossword and pen still in hand.

Once you reach the window, you grab his arm and stop him, holding the book out towards him.

"Here, trade me," you say, shoving the pen into his hand and taking the supplies from his arms. "I'm better at the display stuff anyways."

Steve blushes just a tad, remembering Robin’s teasing from yesterday.

"Right," he drops his eyes to the puzzle as you start organizing your supplies. "30-across, 'Bubbles.'"

"How many letters?" you grunt, stretching up on your top toes to hang a sign. Your shirt rides up just a tad, your soft skin emerging. His eyes snap back to the book.

"Um, four."

"Suds." You bend down, grabbing the clear masking tape. He fills in the four boxes with the black ink and turns his gaze back to you. Looking down, Steve's stomach flips just a little, noticing the edge soft edge of lace peaking out from your jeans.

Suddenly, the monotonous ring of the phone snaps him out of his thoughts. After a few rings, you turn and glance up at him.

"Gonna get that?" you ask innocently, and he has to stop his thoughts from racing once again.

"Uh, y-yeah, right." He hands you the pen and book and jogs lightly over towards the phone.

Leaning over the counter, he grabs the handset, readying his customer service voice.

"Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve." Slowly, he starts extending the cord and working his way around to the back of the counter, keeping the phone clutched to his ear. "How can I help you today?"

"Hello, young man," the woman's old, raspy voice crinkled through the other end and Steve inwardly groaned. "Do you think you could recommend something for an old timer like me?"

Steve rests his elbows, preparing himself for a long conversation.

"Well," he grabs the slinky from the shelf below the register, "do you have anything particular in mind, ma'am?"

"Well… I'm not too sure..."

He sighs silently, shuffling around the slinky and looking back up at you.

You had been staring, and you shoot him a little smile when you lock eyes.

"Old?" you mouth to him exaggeratedly.

He rolls his eyes. "Ancient," he mouths back, much to your amusement. You spin on your heel and start grabbing more signs to hang in the window.

"Well, the first time I called, a young man recommended some war picture. Something about the air force? ‘Top of the Gun’ or something like that." That was most definitely Steve. "I just hated it... And the second time I called, a young woman pointed me towards a charming little picture about a young man in love with his boss's mistress. The one with Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine?" Definitely Robin. "Now, that one was just wonderful. Reminds me of something I would watch as a child. Way back when, movie tickets were only a nickel. A nickel! Can you believe that—"

It seems like the old woman was simply looking for some one to talk to. Steve started zoning out again as the old woman droned on through the headset.

Looking up, he spots you, kneeling down, grabbing the last of the signs and finally standing up a life size cut-out of Howard the Duck.

Steve was staring again.

He couldn’t help it. You were dynamic. He just couldn't tear his eyes off you, even as you crouched down to grab the crossword you set at your feet.

Studying the puzzle, you slowly brought the pen to your lips, nibbling on the end gently, before spinning it in your fingers to scribble in a word or two.

Your movements, your gestures, everything was mesmerizing about you.

Tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, you lean against a nearby shelf, continuing your pondering. Your foot bounced on the ground mindlessly as you tapped the pen to your lips, humming some tune to yourself that Steve struggles to make out. Prince? Bananarama? He couldn't quite tell.

As he strained his ears towards you, the old woman's voice slowly started drifting back to him.

"And then, once the price of oil went up in the 70's, no one was prepared for inflation by the time the 80's rolled around. How old are you, young man? You can't be more than, what, 17?"

Too busy staring after you, he quickly jerked back into the conversation.

"Oh- um, uh, I'm 19, ma'am. 20 in April."

"Right. So you've never known what it's like to live through something as scary as the Great Depression. Well, lemme just tell you-"

And she lost him again, his eyes creeping back over to something more interesting.

You were hunched over the crossword, hair draping over your shoulder and hiding your face. Your scribbling was much more intense now. You must be nearly done.

Quickly, you stuffed the pen in your book and gathered up the tape gun and the extra signs and headed to the back of the store. You gave Steve a small scrunch of the nose as you approached and he silently held up his hand, making it talk as he mouthing"Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah," earning a giggle from you.

You held up the spare supplies in your hands and nodded towards the backroom, checking to make sure that was their correct storage place. Steve gave you a little nod in confirmation and you shot him a small smile, heading off.

Just as you walked past the counter, a page from your crossword fluttered from the book to the ground.

Still on the phone, Steve was unable to call after you, so instead he lengthened the cord again, shimmying around the counter again, phone still clutched in his hand.

"Uh-huh, right, of course," he mindlessly indulged the woman on the other end as he tucked the handset between his shoulder and his ear, kneeling down to collect the dropped page.

Curious to see if you solved it, he flipped it over, inspecting the small boxes.

The puzzle was certainly complete, but it definitely was not correct.

Every word, down and across, was filled with the words "QUIT STARING" over and over again in your perfect script.

A blush crept up his neck and slithered over his cheeks.

He's been caught.

Nearly dropping the phone, he looks up after you.

There you were, peaking through the break room window, smirking back at him.

——————————————————————————

A couple weeks later, and Steve felt like he might pass out.

Tonight's the first night you and Steve would be closing together. Alone. No Robin, no Keith. Just you and him. All afternoon.

He's tried not to think about it — a slow Tuesday night, no one else in the store but you and him, no one else to stop him from doing something rash. Instead, he's been trying all day to keep things as platonic as possible.

But you keep pushing it.

A subtle brush on his arm as you clock in next to him. Your fingers grazing over his as you take a stack of tapes from his hands. Sneaking in between him and a shelf, your back pressing against his front just a bit too hard to be accidental.

He's been really trying to keep his promise with Robin. But his self-restrain was wearing thin.

Somehow, he’s made it all the way to close, only had a few tasks left before he could finally escape your watchful eyes and your sweet perfume and your accidental touches.

Steve quickly locked the doors and you two got to work finishing up any miscellaneous tasks you couldn’t complete earlier.

You were both in the horror section, shelving a plethora of Chopping Mall tapes in a comfortable silence, the soft music over the store's speakers deafened slightly by the rain tapping against the store’s front windows.

"Did you have lunch today, Steve?" you shatter the silence, not turning your attention away from restocking.

He peaks over at you, trying — and failing — to mirror your casual tone.

"Uh… No, I don't think so."

"You don't think so?" you turn to him, and he simply shrugs.

"Forgot it at home," he turns to face you, catching your baffled expression.

"Why didn't you say anything?" you ask, a little hurt.

Another shrug. "Didn't wanna bother you with something stupid like 'I forgot my lunch.'"

You squint your eyes at him a little, expression becoming unreadable. Clasping your fingers into his, and you spin towards the real room.

"C'mere," you huff, pulling him behind you.

Not only is he confused, but now his brain's turned to mush from your hand molded into his.

God, why does he get butterflies just from holding your hand? He's gone soft.

You push open the back door and haul him inside, pushing him gently towards the chair in the back. He sits reluctantly as you spin to grab the brown bag you brought for lunch. Riffling through it for a moment, suddenly you pull out a plump, uneaten orange, waving it beside you with an excited grin.

Taking a step towards him, you nudge his knee with your own.

"Scooch. There's only one chair back here and I do not wanna sit on the ground. Who knows what Keith gets up to back here," you mumble quickly, starting to peel the citrusy fruit, the scent already filling the room.

He scooted over a little, offering half the seat to you, and you plopped down beside him, thigh flush with his. Your fingers work deftly as you finish and discard the peel in the wastebasket next to your feet. Gently, you begin to break apart the slices, offering him the first wedge.

"Listen, I don't wanna eat your lunch," he begins to shove your hand away, much to your annoyance. "You have it."

"We’ll split it, ok.” You give him an adamant look, hoping to persuade him. He still looks skeptical. "I won’t be able to finish it by myself. I’d hate to throw it away," you insist.

Deflating slightly, Steve folds, taking the slice and popping it in his mouth. The zing of the fruit makes his lips pucker a tad and he swears it's one of the sweetest oranges he's ever tasted.

You take one of your own, humming at the taste, before proffering another. He takes the next, another comfortable silence blanketing over the two of you, the slight sound of rain overhead.

The heat of your thigh mixed with the combined smell of you and the orange had him in a tizzy and he was struggling to come up with any topics of conversation.

Only one thing came to mind, and it was a little risky. But, hell, now was as good a time as any, right?

"You're my favorite person, I think," he mumbles around a bite of orange, breaking the silence. He can feel you tense just a bit beside him and he panics, backtracking. "In the store. My favorite coworker."

Smooth.

A small hum leaves you, and he waits for a response.

"Oh really?" you question humorously, something else hiding behind your words. "Even over Robin?"

"Yeah," he shrugs, inspecting the slice of fruit in is hand. "Well, for right now, at least," he teases, earning a light shove from you.

"Shut up," you laugh, no real heat behind your words.

Another silence. Still facing forward, you both smile to yourselves, munching on the orange contentedly. Not having to look you in the eye was bringing Steve some newfound confidence. He took a few more bites and swallowed roughly, choosing his next words carefully.

"You've been my favorite person for a long time. Ever since you started, actually." His voice was soft, timid in a way you've never heard before.

Simultaneously, you both turn in towards each other, a heated stare shared between you.

A beat. You both can’t pull your eyes away from each other.

“Steve?” You speak so softly, Steve thinks he may have imagined it.

“Yeah?” he breathes out.

“You’re staring again.” Your gaze darts down to his lips for a fraction of a second, then back up to his honey eyes.

“So are you.”

Your tongue pops out in a flash, wetting your lips alluringly.

Another beat. Then Steve throws caution to the wind.

Before he can think, he’s leaning into you and pressing a soft, sweet kiss on your plush lips.

He relishes those brief few seconds, eyelids fluttering closed, but he pulls back just as quickly, looking a little panicked.

Had he ruined everything?

You blink, then take in a shaky breath before your grabbing his face with two hands and crushing his lips to yours once more. His nose bumps your cheek and your let out a miniscule whimper at the feel of him. He can taste the orange on your lips, acidic and sweet. Slowly, his tongue presses between your lips, seeking entrance. With a light pull on your jaw, you open up to him.

God, you taste like a thousand oranges, a million sweets, the yummiest thing he’s ever tasted.

Slowly, your hands come to rest on either side of his neck, pulling him closer. Still not satisfied, you desperately shuffle around on the tiny desk chair, knees brushing with his as you attempt to keep your lips locked while closing that last bit of space between you.

Steve leans back just slightly, your face still in his hands.

His eyes scan yours rapidly — making sure this is real — before another brief kiss, then a mumble against your lips. "God, I'm so fucking into you."

You kiss him deeper, smiling against his mouth, before pulling back with a snicker.

"Well, I would hope so, seeing as we're swapping spit in the break room."

He scrunches his nose jokingly at you before pulling you in for another light peck, this time on the corner of your mouth, then another on your cheek, then your nose and your eyebrow and your chin, and suddenly you're giggling and squirming against him, trying hard to pull away and failing miserably.

"St-Steve, stop! You're getting your gross spit all over me," you urge, pressing a hand to the side of his face and pushing him away gently, fondly.

He chuckles a little against the palm of your hand, acquiescing to your protest with a smirk. "Oh, please, you love it."

An unladylike snort leaves you and you stick your tongue out at him mockingly.

His eyes scan over your face again, this time really indulging himself now that he no longer has to hide his affection.

Then, realization hits him.

His face drops and you can't help but mirror his worried expression.

"What are we gonna tell Robs?" he asks, concerned.

He promised her he wouldn't do anything this time. But you were different than all the other girls Robin was friends with. You weren't just some girl asked out for a superficial make-out in the backseat. You were something more than that. Someone special.

Slowly, a smile creeps over your face, confusing Steve all the more. A small giggle bursts from your lips and Steve starts to contemplate again if this is all some dream, some cruel prank.

"Steve," you grab his jaw gently, like he were a clueless little puppy. "She already knows. I told her I liked you last week and she told me to go for it."

His eyes go wide.

"But— But she told me she didn't want me going anywhere near you," he mutters in disbelief, still not understanding.

"Yeah." Another giggle leaves you. "She just wanted to see how long you could last."

Of course. Robin loves to make his life difficult.

"She told me to really lay it on thick, really pull out my charm," you laugh. "You lasted pretty long, too. Longer than we expected. She bet you'd cave in about a week, so look at you! You exceeded her expectations! Robin's gonna be so proud."

A cocky smile graces your lips at his adorable expression. You ruffle his hair unabashedly, planting one last peck to the corner of his mouth, before hopping out of the chair, leaving him in disbelief.

"C'mon, pretty boy, let's lock up and get outta here. We got some catching up to do."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you

[captain-mj]

Mob boss Ghost Waiter Soap Au

Soap gets a migraine at work while serving Ghost and goes to leave Ghost stops him because Soaps his favourite and is a little sus about why he’s leaving

Soap says he’s got a migraine and Ghost can either shoot him or let him go home either option would be preferable (migraines suck)

Ghost is smitten and kidnaps him (affectionate) to sleep it off in his soundproofed block out curtained room and king sized bed.

Ghosts mum used to get migraines so he knows how to help someone through them.

Hurt/comfort happy ending

I might be taking a bit of a step back from writing on here (less frequent writing but I'll answer questions/give hcs) for the next month, I'm going to be moving and trying my best to do a form of NaNoWriMo.

That being said, please still send me asks!! I'll do my best to do them!!

Ghost waited to be served. This restaurant was a personal favorite of his. Not because the food was particularly good, though it wasn't bad. It was because of his favorite waiter.

Johnny looked a tiny bit irritated to see Ghost. He walked over and stood over him. "What do you want?"

Ghost tilted his head. "That anyway to greet your favorite customer?"

Johnny sighed before plastering on a smile. There was a tension behind it, almost like a grimace. "Hey, Simon. How can I assist you today?"

Ghost tilted his head. "My usual is just fine. And a black coffee."

Johnny nodded and walked away, stumbling a tiny bit. He looked a bit pale as he came back to pour a cup of coffee for him.

Ghost watched him through his eyelashes. "Love, you alright?"

Johnny huffed at him. "I'm fine, sir. Don't worry." He accidentally spilled the coffee, hands shaking slightly. "Oh, I'm sorry." He grabbed napkins and started to fix the mess.

Ghost took it from him. "I got it. Don't worry about it, darling."

Johnny nodded and left.

A different waiter appeared to bring Ghost his food and he smiled. That fake customer service smile Ghost hated. He understood it was part of their job and he'd never judge them for it, but he hated it. A lot.

"Who are you?"

"Your waiter wasn't available to bring your order so I took over for you. I know he's your fa-"

"No. Why did he leave?"

The waiter was starting to get nervous, glancing at Ghost's hips like he had a gun on him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ghost, sir. Soap wasn't feeling well and"

Ghost waved his hand and stood. He noticed Johnny walking past and perked up. He followed him quickly. "Johnny."

"Simon." Johnny whined, looking even more pale. "Please. I have a migraine. I know you like having me as your waiter, but I'm in no condition to work. And one day, I'm not going to be working here and where will you be? Huh?" He huffed at him.

Ghost shrugged. "Well, what's wrong?"

Johnny frowned. "Migraines. I get them sometimes. Now, please, sir, I'm le-"

Ghost put his arm around him, easily pulling him into his side. He lowered his voice to a hush. "Why didn't you say so, love?" He gently tugged him along. "I'll give you a ride."

Johnny relaxed immediately. "Oh, thank god. I did not want to handle the bus like this." He knew Ghost wouldn't hurt him. It would disrupt their Tuesday routine of Ghost coming in and seeing his favorite waiter. Perhaps, if he was a bit more clear headed, he'd think about the potential ramifications of being seen with a local mob boss who was known for being short tempered and dangerous. But for now, the idea of a car ride, hopefully with the ac on blast and no music.

Ghost helped him into the backseat of his car. Johnny expected him to get in the driver's seat, but instead he climbed in with him. Someone else started to drive.

Some very soft piano music, just loud enough to drown out the gentle roar of the engine, was playing and Johnny decided that was alright. He tried to stay sitting despite the pounding growing in his temples and behind his eyes.

Ghost reached over, being very slow with his movements. Instead of speaking, afraid his voice would be too loud, he simply led him to lay down with his head in Ghost's lap.

Johnny whined. "Simon."

"Shh, Johnny. I got you." Ghost gently ran his fingers through his hair before finding one of the pressure points he remembered helped his mom. With a great amount of care and love, Ghost dug his fingers in and started to rub in gentle circles.

Johnny whined and went to fight him back before the relief started to seep in and he melted. "Fuck that's good."

Ghost grinned. He started with an area right behind his temples and then towards the back of his head. Once he felt he couldn't do much more there, he moved further down to his shoulders, specifically the place between them. Johnny's eyes fluttered as his body fully relaxed.

The car drove in circles until Johnny fell asleep. Ghost wanted plausible deniability about not knowing where Johnny lived. He picked him up in a bridal carry and brought him inside.

His room had black out curtains with sound proofed walls anyway, so it made sense to bring Johnny to his room. He put him in his bed and sat in a chair nearby. After a bit of thought, he decided not to smoke. The smell might make it worse.

Ghost kept a mini fridge in his room that luckily had some water bottles in it. He'd just have to wait for Johnny to wake up.

Johnny looked so peaceful. A little lamb. He relaxed more and snuggled into the blankets, sleeping peacefully.

He only got about an hour before a flare up woke him up. Ghost watched him with great interest. Despite the black out curtains, there was just a sliver of light in the room where Ghost had left it a cracked. Just enough for him to be able to see.

Johnny looked up in confusion before seeing him. He had a little color back in his face.

Ghost stood up and started to get closer. Johnny scrambled back from him. As if Ghost would ever raise a hand to him.

Quietly, he got him a drink and grabbed him by his ankle, pulling him closer easily.

"Here ya go." He handed him the bottle, watching the realization and then the embarrassment on Johnny's face. "Fell asleep before I thought to grab your address. I didn't want to go through your stuff."

Johnny looked at him for a moment before laughing, almost immediately wincing when he did. "You did it on purpose. I know you did."

"That's the store you'll tell everyone."

Johnny nodded. "Yes, sir. You keep all your guest rooms this dark?"

"You're not in a guest room."

Johnny looked up. "Not expecting any favors right?" Ghost must've looked as affronted as he felt because Johnny smiled. "Nah. Of course not. You're a nice guy."

Ghost hummed. "Most definitely not that." He closed the minifridge and then fixed the curtain, plunging them in to complete darkness. "I can leave, if you'd feel more comfortable."

"Can you do the thing with your hands again?"

Ghost didn't answer in words, just went over to him and shifted them around. He got in the bed with him and started to massage him gently. "There you go. I got you."

Johnny melted into him like putty. "Thank you."

"Course. Maybe you could stay for dinner."

"You keep doing this and absolutely I can."

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #cod #soapghost #ghoap

[pfhwrittes]

for ✨♥️🗡 anon.

a little drabble for the retail hell au. all fluff, no TWs needed i think. female!reader. "love" used as a pet name and john calls the reader a "good girl".

pairing(s): john price x female reader, simon riley x female reader (or even john price x female reader x simon riley if you squint)

600ish words; barely edited again.

-- it’s been a slow start to your shift on the checkouts. your manager for some reason has overscheduled the team, so you’re drifting between the customer service desk which is already covered and the checkouts which is fully staffed. truth be told, you're a little bit confused. you’ve never seen this many people working on front end. you make another slow circuit from the checkouts, offering to take carol off for a break if she wants to, and up to the customer service desk where you chat with megan for a few minutes before a customer wanders over with a bit of receipt paper. 

you’re on your way back to the checkouts when john gestures you over to join him and simon where they’ve been watching the checkouts discreetly from the end of one of the aisles. 

“y’look bored as fuck” simon states matter-of-factly when you join them. john rolls his eyes and sighs at simon’s bluntness before shooting you a small smile.

“what he means to ask love, is if you’d like to do a job for us?” john’s still smiling at you and you’re very briefly distracted by the way the skin around his eyes crinkles. you wonder if he knows you’ll say yes to anything he asks if he shoots you a smile. probably not. he’s got most of the store a-flutter for his blue eyes and old-fashioned charms as it is. 

you twist the bottom edge of your gaudy orange apron between your fingers as you fight against your initial reaction of yes sir, anything you want! and the more sensible approach. 

“what’s the job?” you ask, flicking your eyes over to simon who as always looks like he’d rather pull out his own teeth than be standing on the shopfloor. despite his gruff manner, you quite like simon. he’s funny underneath the front he puts on in front of customers and members of management he doesn’t respect. 

“babysittin’” simon fires off with a completely straight face, folding his massive arms across his chest. you get the impression that he’s trying to look more imposing that he already does. all it does is pull the slightly dusty black polo top he’s wearing tighter over his massive chest.

“babysitting?” you repeat dumbly. you fidget with your apron again and turn your attention back to john hoping that you don’t look as flushed as you feel. 

“i was hoping you wouldn’t mind givin’ simon a hand in the warehouse today, love.” john explains. 

“‘specially considerin’ your prick of a manager’s fucked up the schedule.” simon adds with a scoff. “man couldn’t fill out a rota even if the only thing he’s gotta do is sign his fuckin’ name on the top.”

you press your lips together to stop yourself from smiling at simon. he’s right, after all this isn’t the first time your manager has mucked up the schedules, but you won’t give him the satisfaction. he spots the way you tamp down on your smile and his lips tick up in a brief smirk in response. 

john reaches up to scrub his hand over his beard and your attention is caught by the way he purses his lips. you miss the glimmer of mischief in his eyes as he clears his throat and you look away hastily to look over at the checkouts. 

“so what d’ya think then? gonna give us a hand? hm?”

you nod quickly, aware that carol is glancing over and shooting you a dirty smirk that you hope john and simon haven’t seen yet. 

“good girl. follow us then.”

and well, who are you to disagree when john places the flat of his hand on your lower back just above the apron strings and simon becomes a long line of warmth at your side as they walk you towards the warehouse.

#retail hell au #i hope you like this ✨♥️🗡 anon #instead of choosing one or the other i decided to give you both of them #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #dare i say #john price x reader x simon riley #jp #sr #female!reader #✨♥️🗡 anon

[anthracite-writes]

Obey Me! One-shot; Personal Maid Cafe Service

Leviathan x gn! reader || SFW || TW//CW: uses male termonalogy [ uses the term "Bulter" insted of maid and once use of the word "Handsome" but thats about it] - General Summary: Working your usual shift after school hours to earn a bit of grim on the side at one of the popular maid cafes in the Devildom, you are requested by one of the guest - not expecting who you would meet on the other side of the private room door.

NOTE // I want to shoot my shot at a one-shot fic so why not? Sorry in advance if the story seems choppy and doesn't flow correctly. It's my first time in a long time attempting at short fiction and writing in second person - this might be a one time thing for writing second person for one-shots. Let's just say I'm using this as a little exercise to ease myself back into writing these type of stuff. again, sorry in advance if this isn't a good one shot.

You were in the middle of checking out a group of guests you were assigned to for the day, waiting for them to finish with their transaction at the counter, fidgeting with the sleeve of my uniform slightly as you started to zone out a bit - wondering what the brothers were up to back home. “Y/N, you got requested in private room 3B. It’s Party of one.” one of my co-workers said in a hushed tone, squeezing past you to grab a couple menus, “Well, not exactly requested by name - but they requested a ‘butler’ to serve them.”

“I’ll see to it then, thanks for the heads up.” You said softly as you heard the transaction go through. You flash a smile at the group of customers, handing them they’re recipe upon their request and wishing them on their way.

You step away from the counter and grab the menus and head to the hall lined with doors in the back of the cafe, straightening out the dress vest and fixing the tie of the butler uniform you had to wear in a subtle manner, occasionally greeting guests as they passed you. It wasn’t usual that a guest would request a butler as their server for their experience in this maid cafe, hence the lack of ‘butlers’ in this location. Or any other maid cafes for that matter. It was extremely rare for maid cafes in general to even have any other gender than female employees since more often than not these themed restaurants are more directed to the male demographic. It was extremely lucky you found this job listing on the bulletin in the House of Lamentation. And it did pay extremely well, which you was happy about as well, no longer needing to rely on the allowances Lord Diavolo gave you as the human exchange student at RAD.

I finally reach the room I was assigned to, closing my eyes and taking a breath as you hyped yourself up to entertain another guest. ‘okay… here we go again.’ You put your hand on the door knob, going in without even looking who you were serving though the fully glass door, just wanting to get this private room guest done and over with. Going into the room, you flash a smile at the guest. “Welcome home, masterrrr…” Your words dragged as eyes widen at the sight of the guest, the guest equally as surprised - hearing the Avatar of Envy start to stutter from his usual nervous habit.

“Y/N… I, um.. Er… H-hi…” Leviathan stuttered, his cheeks going red as he flustered up. Both of you were in the same boat, way too stunned to speak from surprise and shocked.

“Hi…” you’re voice trailed, closing the door and pulling the privacy curtain over it, “You can’t tell anyone I work here-”

“Please! You can’t tell my brothers, they won’t let me live it down!” Levi begged, cutting you off mid sentance before looking away from you as he fidgeted with the sleeve of his jacket you usually see him wear around the house when he’s out of his room.

The two of you stared at each other, awkwardness filling the air before you finally spoke, “Okay… I won’t say a word about you being here if you don’t tell anyone I work here."

Levi nodded feverishly in response, happily agreeing to those terms. You take a shaky breath and continue with your usual greeting, walking over to the table and putting down the menus.

“Welcome home Master. What can I start you off with for drinks?” you say, looking at him with a soft smile.

Leviathan’s cheeks became a darker shade of red as you spoke and only worsened when you smiled at him, “Please um… can you just call me by my name?” He requested, looking at you nervously.

“It’s kinda my job to call you 'master', Levi… you of all people should know that.” You say with a soft voice, trying to put the shut-in sitting in front of you at ease.

“I-I know that much, Y/N… it’s just…” Levi trailed off though, trying to find the words and trying to not mess this up, “It feels weird hearing you of all people saying that to me…” he averted his eyes from yours, focusing on the menu in front of him.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh, “Well… I do remember you talking about how you want to have the full maid cafe experience one time, so allow me to help you with that experience. Again, it's part of my job. It’s kinda a requirement.” You reasoned with him, straightening out your uniform, fixing the gloves on your hands to make sure they were taut against the shape of your hand.

Levi bit his lip,  “F-fine… I guess it’s fine…” he mumbled, his tangerine orange eyes looking up at you, looking at your uniform then meeting your gaze. “Uh… I um…” He began to fidget, his eyes starting to avoid you and looking pass you.

“Levi, take your time. Don’t push yourself too hard. I’ll wait,” You say with a soft tone, folding your hands in front of you.

The demon nodded slightly as he took a breath, “Can I get water…? Please?” His voice trembled, looking up at you at the corner of his eye.

“Of course master, I’ll leave you alone with the menu and I’ll be back with your water.” You turn on your heels and walk to the door, looking over your shoulder as you take hold of the door handle, checking on the lavender haired male you were serving. He was looking down at the menu, occasionally looking up to see if you’ve left before averting his eyes back at the menu. You couldn’t help but just smile a bit, you can see he’s trying to push himself to be more social and you couldn’t help but feel for him, you take a breath before you exit the room.

~~~

“Um, Y/N…?” Leviathan chimed up, getting your attention, walking over to his side.

“What can I do for you, Master Leviathan?” You say, looking lean down slightly as you wait for his response.

Leviathan’s cheeks rosy up from how close you were to him, clearing his throat a bit before he spoke, looking up at you from where he sat, “I… uh… I just wanted to tell you that I uh… I think your uniform looks nice…” he said through stutters, “y-you look really handsome… I mean! I, uh…”

You felt your face heat up from his comment, letting out a soft chuckle from the flattery, “Thanks, I’m quite fond of the uniform myself.”

Levi cleared his throat again, “A-anyway, I figured out what I want to eat…” he said, showing you the menu and pointing at what he wanted, you can see that his hands were trembling from all the nerves he must be feeling. You simply responded with a nod, pulling out the pocket note pad and pen from your pant pocket, taking note of it. “I’ll be right bac-” “Y/N… can I make a request of you…” Leviathan cut you off, immediately getting flustered, “S-sorry! I didn’t mean to cut you off! I- um…”

“Leviathan… Master, it’s fine…” You say, looking at him with a soft expression, “You’re the one in charge here, remember?”

The demon gulped down hard and nodded, “R-right… well um… is… it possible if you can um… if you can stay here… with… with me?” he stuttered, his gaze averting away from you as he fidgeted the hem of his shirt.

“Of course master, I’ll just put in your order first if that’s okay. I won’t leave the room, I’ll do it remotely, okay?” You said with a smile, turning and walking away from him, making your way to the tablet on the wall next to the door, putting in his order as the room fell to complete silence - the sound of you tapping on the screen the only thing audible.

“Um… Y/N?” You hear the male behind you call out.

You let out a hum in response to let him know you heard him, “Yes? What is it, master?” you call back, sending the order off to the kitchen.

“Can… can you sit with me?” He requested, looking down at the table as his leg shook. You turned around, seeing how anxious he was. Without a word, you walk back to the table and pull out the seat across from the male, sitting straight up, hands folded in your lap. Levi looked up at you wide eyed as if he was a deer in the headlights, not expecting you to accept his request. “Are… you just doing this to make me happy…?” He mumbled, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

“No, I’m doing this out of my own free will. I don’t usually accept these kinds of requests when I’m on the open floor area of the café since it’s kinda against the rules. But in private rooms, those rules don’t apply but I still have the right to reject requests. Besides, I’ll happily sit with you. “Though, I do have something to ask you if you don’t mind.” You add.

Leviathan looked back at you, his eyes softening, finally relaxing his nerves after all this time, “S-sure… I don’t mind, what is it?”

“Why… Did you request a butler server? Were you aware I worked here?” You asked, seeing Levi immediately start to fluster up.

“No! It’s nothing like that, I knew you worked - I just had no idea you were working here!” He raised his hands in protest before sighing, putting his hands flat on the table’s “I-I was just curious is all… nothing else to it. I wasn’t expecting to see you in such a place… dress up like…”

“A butler?” You said through a chuckle. Leviathan lips curled slightly in a small smile as you finished his thought and nodded.

“Yeah, you can say that…” he said with a slight chuckle in his tone, “Is… it okay if I request something from you again, Y/N?”

“You don’t need to ask every time you want to give me an order, you know? You say though a chuckle. Leviathan’s cheeks turned red from your words, a slight pout on his lips.

“Well… Is it okay if I request that we share what I ordered?” The demon asked, looking away from you as his face deepened in colour.

“Like… you want to split your meal with me?”

Leviathan looked at you then looked away with a slow blink, “Yeah… I mean, there’s nothing to it! I… I just assumed you’re kinda hungry and dinner won’t be ready by the time you get off your shift.” He muttered under his breath, yet loud enough to hear his reasoning, “You can say no, I’d understand… why would you want to share food with a yucky otaku like me-”

“I’d be happy to take you up on your offer, Master Leviathan.” You say softly, cutting him off. He looked at you with pure shock, his orange hue eyes glistening with silent joy as he processed what you just said to him. After a while of silence he gulped, parting his lips as if to say something to you only to be shut down by your pager going off.

~~~

You step out into the busy streets of the Devildom, letting a sigh of exhaustion from finally getting off your shift, you sling your bag over your shoulders and turn in the direction to go back to the House of Lamentation, stopping in your tracks as you see the familiar otaku waiting outside the cafe, his back against the brick wall as he scrolled through his phone. “Levi?” You call out to him, getting his attention. A faint smile forming on his lips when his eyes meet yours.

“Hey, Y/N… you’re finally off the clock?” Levi says with a slight stutter, putting his phone away in his pocket and pushing his back off the wall and walk over to you, hands in his jacket pocket in an attempt to look cool.

“How… have you been waiting out here?” You said with a chuckle, seeing the shut-in’s pale skin slowly turn red at your question, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked down at the stone streets.

“I uh… don’t get the wrong idea, I was just passing by after visiting a couple shops to pre-order stuff and just window shop, ya know?” The lavender-haired male said through stutters, shoving his hand that he was rubbing against his neck into his pocket again. “I just… wanted to stop by, see if you were done with your shift and I um… I…” His eyes slowly drifted back to you, the small smile on your lips while you listened to him speak made his face heat up even more, and it didn’t help you were still in your work uniform - adding onto the cuteness factor to him. He takes a deep and shaky breath as he closes his eyes, trying to relax himself, “I… was wondering if you’d like me to walk back to the House of Lamentation… “But not in the cliche-normie ‘I want to walk home with you because I like you’ way… just for convenience sake! Since we’re both heading home now.” He added, eyes wide and cheeks red as he tried to reason.

“And what makes you think I want to go directly home?” you say in a teasing manner, Levi's posture stiffening up at your words at his face deepens with colour. Leviathan started to stammer and stumble over his words, unsure how to answer. You let out a soft chuckle, walking past him, nudging him playfully. “Come on, let’s head home.”

Levi’s eyes brightened and he swiftly joined your side without hesitation, keeping pace with your steps so the two of you were walking side by side. “It… it was nice to hang out with you after school. Just the two of us I mean, even if you were working…”

“I liked it too, it practically didn’t feel like I was working at all.” You said with a smile, continuing to look forward as the two of you walked down the streets leading back home from the shopping district of the Devildom. Little did you know, Leviathan was looking down at you from the corner of his eye, admiring how you looked in your uniform - reminding him of some animes and mangas he’s read, you looked almost like those characters to him.

“I… um… Maybe I can come by again, so we can spend more time together and all…” He suggested, scratching his neck out of habit when he felt anxious.

“Well, personally… I wouldn’t mind if we hung out after I finished my shifts and when I get days off.” You suggested in a casual manner, Levi taken back by your words.

“H-huh?! You would want to hang out with a boring shut-in like me?” He questioned you, looking at you in surprise with a hint of joy glimmering in his eyes.

You nodded in response, “I mean, yeah. I know that going out to a place like the maid cafe I work at is quite nerve racking with your social anxiety and all so… how about I suggest this. “I can let you experience a maid cafe in the comfort of your own room. I do know how to cook and make a couple things on the menu and I don’t mind wearing my uniform for you. That way we can spend time together and you can have the maid cafe experience whenever you want to. I’d be like… your personal butler in a way.” You looked up at the Avatar of Envy, awaiting his response. Levi’s face cheeks were dusted with pink as he thought, looking back at you with a slight smile.

“I.. I would really like that, Y/N. Thanks…” He said with a smile, “Well, as you are my ‘personal butler’, is it only to make a request…?”

You let out a soft chuckle as Levi immediately went with the idea, “Sure, go ahead.”

“Can… can I hold your hand while we walk home?” He said, his voice trembling before he shook his head, “forget I said anything, why would someone like you want to hold hands with an otaku like me? It was a dumb question, you don’t have-”

Without saying a word, you bushed the back of your hand against his before taking it gently in yours, gently lacing your fingers in the spaces between yours. You felt Leviathan stiffen up slightly then relax, his hand gently taking yours in return, a small smile forming upon his lips, knowing this was just the start for you two. The start of a friendship about to bloom.

#obey me leviathan #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me leviathan x mc #leviathan x reader #leviathan x mc #leviathan x you #leviathan x gender neutral reader #obey me fanfic #omswd fanfic #x reader #gn!reader #m!reader #obey me x male reader #obey me x gn!reader #obey me x mc #obey me fluff #obey me angst #obey me sfw #obey me brothers #obey me demon brothers

[ghostiexe]

well! this was written for @buns-and-butter but somehow i lost the ask, sorry about that!

the prompt was something along the lines of 'wilbur helping cafe employee reader when they have a creepy/stalker-ish customer' and i am here to deliver :3

this is not proof read or edited in any way, please forgive any mistakes

tw: stalking, uncomfortable flirting, you get called a chick once

wordcount: 2,686

The past few weeks, you’ve noticed something. 

Every time you work the closing shift, the same guy comes, orders a plain black coffee, stares at you, and only leaves when you tell him you have to close. 

And, yeah, total weirdo alert, right? 

But it’s fine. Maybe he works a night shift or something and needs something to keep him up. 

Then again, why would he watch you? You’ve seen him bring a laptop, surely there’s something else he could do rather than stare at you. 

Currently, you’re crouching behind the ordering counter, wiping up a spill. The café you work at is pretty slow today, though that's not unusual, especially since you’re working a closing shift again. You don’t mind closing, but you also like day shifts because that’s when your favorite regular usually drops in. You haven’t seen him in a few days, since you’ve been stuck closing. 

You feel a little bad for the customer who's drink you'd dropped, but she had assured you it was fine and you'd just remade it for her. 

You huff softly as you stand back up, holding the now tea soaked rag in your hand. When you look up, you blink in surprise, then beam. 

“Will!” You exclaim, pleasantly surprised when you see the guy you were just thinking about. You giggle and watch his nose scrunches as he grins back at you. 

“Hi!” He says, leaning on the counter slightly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You hope you aren’t blushing. “One sec, I need to clean this rag, and then I’ll be right back.” You tell him, and he shoots you  thumbs up. You turn your back on him and quickly go to the kitchen, rushing to take care of the rag so you can get back out there to him. 

By the time you’re back out, the girl from earlier has left. You can’t help but feel a little bit comforted by the privacy.

You smile again and lean against the counter. “So,” you start, watching as he mirrors your movement and rests his arms against the counter as well, tilting his head slightly. “The usual?” You ask. 

“The usual.” He agrees, and you giggle. You nod and push yourself back, turning to grab a cup before realizing something and turning your head back toward him. 

“To go or to stay?” You ask, since every time he comes it’s different. He hums in thought, tapping his chin before shrugging. “Ah, to stay, I suppose.” He says. “I’m not busy.” He smiles softly at you and you nod, starting to make his drink as he watches you curiously. “So…” You start, pulling out a mug for him and starting on his drink. “You don’t usually drop by this late, yeah?” You ask, trying to make conversation. He opens his mouth to respond when the door dings, and you glance over his shoulder, face dropping when you realize it’s the same guy that’s been showing up every day. Wilbur shuffles to the side, making room for the other guy to order. The stranger grins at you.

You shift uncomfortably but nod in acknowledgement. “I’ll just be a moment.” You tell him, pumping lavender into Wilbur’s London Fog, watching as Wilbur walks away to his usual table. “Alright, sorry, can I take your order?” You ask in your customer service voice. It’s just a little too friendly, and your smile is strained. 

He laughs and leans against the counter, the same way Wilbur does. You don’t like it as much as you do when Wilbur does it. Actually, you don’t like it at all. “Could I start with your number?” He asks, and you force yourself to laugh. This isn’t the first time a random person has asked for your number, but it never gets less awkward. 

“Oh, I don’t know.” You say, trying to sound sympathetic. “Um, I’m not really…” You trail off, hoping he’ll take the hint. The guy scoffs. 

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’ve got a boyfriend.” He says, sounding a little annoyed. 

You shake your head, stepping away slightly. “I- I mean, no, just, I’m not sure.” You say, trying to stay polite. He just rolls his eyes. 

“What? You think I’m ugly or something?” He asks, tone a little hostile now. Your eyebrows shoot up. First of all, because the question caught you off guard, but secondly, because the guy is actually stunning. Probably one of the top ten most attractive guys you’ve ever seen. (Wilbur is the first on that list, not that you’ll ever tell him that.) Either he’s asking to try and guilt trip you, or he’s just crazy. Maybe both. “What? No, no, I-” You start to say, but he cuts you off.

“Whatever. Just a large plain black coffee, then, for Ethan.” He says, taking his arms away from the counter and crossing them across his chest. You refrain from making a face. Who orders plain black coffee at 7:00PM? You try not to judge him, though, it is quite cold out. Maybe it’s just to warm himself up. “To stay.” He adds, and you nod, giving him a small smile. Nevermind on the ‘keeping warm’ thing, apparently. He doesn’t move, watching you, and you let out a soft sigh, checking in on Wilbur’s tea. It’s nearly done. 

After a minute of silence, the guy speaks up again. “You’re pretty, you know.” He says. You flinch, a little bit surprised. You hadn’t expected him to keep trying after you told him you didn’t want his number. 

“Thank you…” You say cautiously, a little relieved when Wilbur’s drink is finally finished. 

You pick up the mug and step back over to the counter, ducking under the counter to grab him a chocolate muffin from the display case as well. It’s become a little tradition by now, he tips you way too much and you give him a free muffin. 

“Will?” You call out, and you watch him perk up before closing his laptop before walking back over. You push over his tea and muffin and he rolls his eyes fondly, a little smile on his face. The other guy rolls his eyes and walks to one of the tables, keeping his eyes on you. “Thank you.” Wilbur says, pulling out his wallet and stuffing a bill into your tip jar. Then he lowers his voice and leans in. “Jesus, that guy seems like a dick.” He whispers, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb to the guy that just ordered. You wince. 

“Yeah.” You whisper back, pressing the tea into his hands. “Um, it’s okay, though. I mean, he’s probably just gonna, like, keep begging for my number.” You say with a shrug, choosing not to mention that he’s been watching you every night, then speak at your normal volume again. “Enjoy your drink.” You say, smiling gently. Wilbur nods, then looks back at the guy, squinting his eyes. 

“Yeah, thank you.” He says, still watching the guy. He looks back at you, smiles politely, and goes back to his spot. You start on a bit of mindless busywork as you wait for the guy’s coffee to finish brewing. 

You can’t help but sigh, rubbing your hands over your face. At least Wilbur is here, instead of being alone like you normally are. 

After a minute, the guy’s coffee is finished and you glance down at the hasty note you’d written so you would know what name to call out for him. “Um, Ethan?” You call out hesitantly, and the guy immediately beelines toward you. You set the coffee mug on the counter for him and force a smile. “Enjoy.” You tell him. He ignores the coffee and you shift uncomfortably as he drags his eyes down your body, and maybe you’re imagining it, but you’re pretty sure he licks his lips. You want to gag. Jesus Christ, this guy is so gross. “So, do you have a name?” He asks. “Doesn’t seem fair that you know mine and I don’t get yours.” He says, smirking. You’re a little confused, then realize you aren’t wearing your nametag. You purse your lips, about to respond, when he continues. “Oh, wait, I get it.” He says, laughing. “You’d prefer it if I just called you mine, hm?” He asks. You can’t hold it back this time, you actually grimace. He narrows his eyes. “Hey, don’t do that, sweetheart, smile.” He says, pouting like a child, and you shake your head. “You look so much prettier that way.” He tells you, huffing softly. 

“Dude, I already told you I don’t want your number.” You grumble, frustrated. “Do you not understand the meaning of the word no?” You ask, genuinely pissed off now. 

“You know, you’re very lucky that I’m a nice guy.” He says, sounding mad now, too. “Jesus Christ, you’re cute, but you have a terrible personality.” He complains. “Come on, sweetheart, lighten up. All I’m saying is that I think we’d go well together.” He says, leaning in over the counter and reaching for your hand. You pull away quickly and step back. “Don’t touch me.” You snap, and you hear a stool screech against the hardwood floor. You immediately look over and see Wilbur standing up, walking back over to the counter. He also looks mildly pissed off, and he puts a hand on the guy’s shoulder. “Back off man, they said no.” He says, shaking his head. “You could do better, anyway. I mean, look at them.” He says gesturing to you, and Ethan laughs. You frown, a little hurt by the comment, and you can already tell there are tears pricking in your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, man. This chick is stuck up, anyway.” Ethan agrees after a moment, then shakes his head and gives you a scrutinizing look as he walks away, not taking his coffee with him. You hear the door ding again.

You slump slightly and put your face in your hands, and Wilbur makes a soft sympathetic sound. You can’t help but sniffle. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” Wilbur apologizes, reaching hesitantly over the counter and resting his hand on your shoulder. “I was just trying to get him to go away.” He says, sounding sad. 

You nod and try to wipe your tears away, looking at him again. Wilbur frowns. 

“Do you want to come sit with me?” He asks, a bit hesitant, and you nod. His hand drops away from your shoulder as you step to the side, walking out the little empty space and toward Wilbur. He opens his arms for you, a silent offer to comfort you, and you immediately step into his arms, wrapping your own tightly around him. He gently rubs your back as you look toward the door, frowning. You can see the guy standing at the window still. 

“He’s still out there.” You mumble, and Wilbur sighs. He pulls you closer. “Do you think you could close early? Would your boss get mad?” He asks. You think for a moment.

“I don’t know.” You admit. “She probably wouldn’t mind, but…” You trail off, and Wilbur lets out a breath. 

“Okay, well, let’s take a chance, okay?” He asks, tilting your head up to look at him. You nod. He lets go of you and you wipe your eyes again. “Is that the first time you’ve seen this guy?” Wilbur asks as he walks to the door of the cafe, flipping the sign to say ‘closed’. 

“Um, no.” You admit. “He’s been coming by every night for probably about a month. This is the first time he’s actually tried to make conversation with me, though. Usually he just sits in the corner with a laptop and stares at me.” You grimace slightly, pulling your work apron off and hanging it up on a hook. 

Wilbur scoffs. “Jesus, he’s crazy.” He mutters, and you laugh softly. Wilbur looks back at you. 

“Do you drive? I don’t see a car out there.” He says, and you watch the guy, Ethan, start pacing outside the window. You shake your head. “Um, no, I just walk.” You say, rubbing your arm. Wilbur hums thoughtfully, walking back over to you. You sigh and sit down on the ground, resting your back against the ordering counter. Wilbur joins you on the ground, mirroring your pose. 

“Do you just want to wait until he leaves? I can order you a Lyft…” Wilbur suggests, reaching his hand out and offering it to you. You accept, placing your hand in his. He squeezes your hand gently. 

“Yeah, that’s probably the best option.” You agree quietly. You look out the window, just watching as Ethan stands there. “He’s bound to get cold and leave eventually. It’s the middle of winter.” You say. “Plus, it’s dark out.” Wilbur nods in agreement. 

You sigh and lean your head against the counter. He squeezes your hand, and you squeeze him back. The two of you sit there in silence for God knows how long, probably at least twenty minutes before the guy gives up and storms off. Wilbur makes you stay an extra few minutes just to make sure he’s actually gone before you finish cleaning the place up so you can lock it for the night. 

“Are you okay?” Wilbur asks as the two of you step outside, his hand going to the small of your back and looking at you with a concerned expression. You clear your throat and nod. 

“Yeah, um, I am. Thank you for staying with me.” You say, looking down at the ground. Wilbur had already ordered a Lyft for you while you were waiting, and apparently your ride would be here soon. Wilbur sighed softly. 

“Okay.” He whispers, gently rubbing your lower back before pulling his hand away. He looks up at the sky, where snow is starting to fall lightly. He sneezes as a snowflake lands on his nose, and you giggle. He looks over at you, smiling fondly. You both look at each other for a moment before he sighs, then he opens his phone and shoves it toward you. You stare down at it, met with his contact information. “Could you text me when you’re home to let me know you’re safe?” He asks quietly. 

You blink, a little surprised, but you nod quickly. “Um, yeah, okay.” You agree, and a bit on the tension in his shoulders seems to slip away. You pull out your own phone and punch his contact information in, then go to the picture option. “Smile.” You tell him, pointing the camera at him. 

He smiles awkwardly, and you quickly snap the picture, saving his name as London Fog Guy. He peers over your shoulder and pouts. “You know my name.” He reminds you, and you nod. 

“I do.” You agree. You shut your phone off without changing it and stuff it in your pocket. You both stand there awkwardly for a moment before he clears his throat. 

“I’m glad you’re okay.” He says, offering a tired smile. You nod, kicking at a small pebble. Before you can change your mind, you reach for his hand again. 

“Thanks for staying.” You say. You see your Lyft pull up and Wilbur sighs. 

“Well, I guess I’ll see you next time I drop by for my tea.” He says, squeezing your hand and then letting it go. He opens the door to the Lyft so you can get in, but before you can shut it, he puts his hand on your chin and tilts it so you’re looking at him. Your face burns. “Remember to text me when you get home, okay?” He requests, voice quiet and a little concerned. Your expression softens. 

“Okay.” You agree, then look away again. Wilbur steps back and shuts the door, and you turn your head to look out the window as the Lyft driver starts the drive back to your house. You pull out your phone and look down at Wilbur’s contact information again, smiling gently. 

You hope you get to see him more often.

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fanfic #wilbur x you

[laura1633]

alpha mafia boss charles/omega college student max i am WEAK

maybe max is struggling to pay for college tuition/rent so he takes a job in a bar/club. he’s not exactly sure why no one wanted that job, the place seems very luxurious and lucrative. all the hints that are dropped about the nature of the establishment during his job interview fly right past his head. of course he knows he can expect some "intense stuff”, that’s just how clubs are! "the scenes could be a lot to stomach” sounds like your usual customer service job to him!

it really only clicks somewhere between him being given a gun before his first shift and the shooting occurring halfway through the first. that’s exactly when charles notices max just standing behind the bar trying very hard not to get fucking shot and protects him, killing the man shooting at him. max in the middle of the mild hysteria he’s in right now is sober enough to think that actually, that was kinda hot. the fight quickly ends and charles pours max a drink - he realises max is the new hire, and teasingly apologised for the mess for his first time. he makes sure max is in a good condition, patches up the small cuts max got and gets him home safe and sound. he leaves him money and a note, fully expecting max not to come back to the job, but max turns up right on the hour the next day.

charles is surprised to see him again but max is just like really? do you think i would quit a job with a lot of vacation days, paid sick leave and a competitive salary as a student in this economy? charles is immediately charmed by his stubbornness and attitude (and pretty blue eyes and curves in the uniform), and determined to learn more about him! from then on the bar, previously just one of the many mafia properties, becomes charles’ regular haunt, and he spends the better part of the night chatting up the pretty bartender (and maybe gets a bit possessive when others steal away his attention)

maybe in the end charles decides that he doesn’t want max in harm’s way, and offers to just pay off everything for him so max can do whatever he wants (perhaps as a courting gift—)

Brilliant anon 😍

Oh god, all the hints going totally over Max's head is perfect. I bet they aren't even vague hints, he is just completely oblivious and a little naive so a shoot out really does shake him up. Maybe they ask him something about shooting in the interview and he assumes its just some term about pouring shots 😂.

#anon asks #lestappen mafia au

[sunlightmurdock]

I want to know more about Beau x sunshine!reader, do you have any plans to write about it?

here’s some of what I wrote for it before, I don’t really have too many plans for finishing or posting it

…

“Penny for your thoughts?”

When Beau looks up, seven double measures of whiskey deep, he isn’t pleased to find a bubbly girl and her silly little grin looking back at him. In fact, he immediately scowls, unimpressed.

If this is your attempt at being cute, he isn’t having it. Luckily, you aren’t even trying yet. Just being friendly.

You shoot a glance across at your co-worker, Beth. She rolls her eyes at the miserable bastard on the other side of the bar and turns to give her attention to the patrons in here that might actually give her a tip at the end of this.

He’s been sitting there for a good few hours now. Since before your shift began at four, anyway. You give a small shrug and turn your back on him.

Beau glances up once more. He takes his time to look now that you’re not grinning back at him. When he was younger, he would’ve gone for you. You’re dressed kind of like she used to.

Dylan was saying something the other day about the early two-thousands being back in style, but Beau tends not to listen to his eleven-year old son’s fashion advice. It’s hard to take the kid who only just figured out that maybe wearing his jeans a size too big doesn’t make people think he’s bigger than he is seriously.

Thinking of Dylan snaps Beau quickly back to reality. He peels his eyes away from your short shorts and tank top, instead opting to look at his glass. He’s not sure how old you are, but probably not old enough to be dating a man with an eleven-year old son and a fifteen-year marriage that just went down the drain.

Whilst his eyes are on his almost empty glass, he can’t help but glance down at his wedding band. He’s an idiot for still wearing it. She hasn’t worn it since she told him she was leaving, and that was months ago.

He’s an idiot for thinking that this would all blow over and that she would change her mind.

Beau lifts his glass and finishes the rest, then slams the glass down a little too loudly on the bar. He exhales deeply and pinches the bridge of his nose.

You turn your head slowly as you close the cash register, staring at the clearly devastated man at the end of the bar. You hand the customer their change and find yourself wandering back to him.

“How ‘bout a dollar for your thoughts?”

Beau opens his eyes slowly, staring back at you, completely unimpressed. He’s heartbroken, and a girl like you isn’t going to want to hear about this mess.

“‘Cause yours seem pretty juicy, that’s all,” You shrug playfully, leaning onto the bar with your elbows and smiling across at him. He stares back at you, you realise that a dollar isn’t going to cut it. “Fine, fine — a free drink and you’ll spill?”

Beau’s thick brows furrow slightly. For one, he’s confused on what a pretty, young girl is doing bothering someone his age, and for two — “How come you’re so interested?”

“It’ll make my shift go faster. Plus, my good friend over there and I have a bet going as to whether or not you’re single. She hasn’t noticed the wedding ring yet and once you open up, I’m about to win twenty bucks.”

Beau rolls his eyes. The service in this place has been kind of slow this afternoon. You girls have been busy gossiping away and pissing him off without meaning to. He figures that if he just tells you the half of it, he’ll get that next drink a little bit faster.

He glances down at his wedding ring and toys with it. Finally, he scoffs and pushes his empty glass towards you.

“You owe her a twenty, actually.”

You furrow your brows, but make good on that promise of a free drink, as you turn to grab the bottle. “So, do you wear that thing for fun?”

“My wife left me.” Beau mumbles, his voice deep and sullen. He won’t meet your gaze as he talks, which is a shame, because he’s pretty. Black hair with some silver passing through it. You can tell that he’s the type of guy that’s usually clean shaven, but he’s got a couple of days of scruff on him.

You pour him a little over a double. Closer to a triple. Being the miserable prick that he has grown to be, Beau takes this as incompetence rather than you just being kind to him. But, he doesn’t say anything.

“You must be a real asshole.” You say playfully, lips quirked at the sides. Beau lifts his gaze and stares back at you scoldingly. You grin. “Y’know, because there’s no way she left you because you’re ugly. Not with a face like that.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. Still, it’s been a long time since he was called handsome by a pretty girl in a bar. He lifts his glass and takes a sip of it. Setting it back down, he notices the clear view down your tank top that he’s got and looks back up at you.

..

“Take your shoes off.” Beau says it before you’re even through the door, tossing his keys down on the entryway table by the door. He walks ahead of you with his shoes on.

You frown slightly, but obey, kicking your sandals off and leaving them by the door. You trail slowly after him, taking your time to be nosey with the pictures on the walls.

There’s an empty frame in the middle. His wife. Beside that, is a picture of Beau. He’s holding two children, one can’t be older than a year old and the other is maybe six. He looks a little younger in this photo but the sun is glaring on it.

You reach out to straighten the frame so that you’ll be able to see it properly.

“Don’t touch that.”

You jump, turning quickly to find Beau at the end of the hall, staring at you.

“Come on.” He turns and you follow again, more obediently this time. He walks you through to the back of the house and opens the door to his office.

He’s sitting back in the leather office chair, one knee crossed over the other.

You trail your fingers over the plaque, his name engraved in it. Turning back to him, you watch as he sets a cigar between his lips and lights it with an expensive looking lighter.

“Thought you didn’t smoke?” You enquire.

He nods and sets the lighter down. He breathes out a puff of grey smoke and pulls the glass ashtray towards him.

“My wife made me quit.” He replies calmly. He’s still wearing that wedding ring, it sits heavily on his ring finger. You cross the office towards him, glancing down at the rug as you feel the soft material under your feet. Him being in your way makes no difference in where you’re headed.

Beau pushes the chair back slightly from the desk as you step past him, nudging the ashtray out of your way, then the keyboard for his computer. You lift yourself up onto the thick, expensive oak desk, sitting in front of him.

That flimsy sundress wouldn’t do much to hide your modesty from where you’re sitting anyway, but Cyclone knows exactly what you’re doing when your rest your feet on his thighs, legs parted just slightly. From where he’s sitting, in his oh-so-important office chair, he’s got a perfect view of the black satin between your legs.

“Your wife made you quit,” You muse, turning and leaning back on one of your palms. With your other hand, you lift the ashtray and examine the fresh ash and the not so fresh ash below that. “But you have an ashtray, and this pretty lighter.”

You set down the ashtray and pick up the lighter. His initials are monogrammed into the silver. He watches as you flick it open, ignite the flame and then flick it closed again.

“I said that she left me, didn’t I?” Beau sits back in the chair and parts his knees further. With your feet resting on his legs, this, in-turn, parts your legs further too.

He has no shame in letting his gaze fall between your legs now, he’s slow in bringing it back up to your face. He exhales another puff of smoke.

You set the lighter down, tilting your head at him.

“Who could leave such a delightful man behind?” You tease, knowing that if he was this miserable when she was still around then she did herself a favour.

Beau raises his eyebrows at you. He’s quiet for a moment, then speaks, “You’ve got an attitude problem, sweetheart.”

“Me? — Have you looked in a mirror recently, old man?” You scoff, pushing at his thigh with your foot. He catches your ankle, just holding it there, letting you know that he’s got you.

Your smirk grows, lips quirking upwards as you lean forwards. You reach out and brush your fingers over his cheek. Your fingertips are soft against his skin. You trail your touch along his temple, gently onto his forehead. You scrunch your brows as you touch the frown lines between his, mimicking the faces he would have made to get them.

Beau catches your wrist with his free hand, taking it away from his face. He squeezes your arm before dropping it, you almost shiver at the gentle enough force. He sets his cigar down in the ashtray and lifts his hand. He does the same, brushing his fingertips over your face. Your cheek, your temple, your jaw. You close your eyes as he touches you.

He sits back in the chair again, knees parted, bringing the cigar to his mouth once more.

You turn and pick up his glass of bourbon. He watches as you swish the liquid around almost carelessly in the glass, right next to his irreplaceable, top secret files. You bring it up and inhale softly.

“Do you like the taste of this stuff?” You ask, not particularly impressed by its smell. The Hard Deck doesn’t stock this kind of bourbon.

Beau nods, exhaling smoke once more. His fingers skim past your ankle and trace the bare skin of your calf. “Three hundred dollars a bottle, I’d sure hope that I like it.”

You hum. Beau watches, intrigued as you take a small sip. You let it sit on your tongue for a moment and then swallow. His eyes fall down to look at that black satin between your legs again, then back up as you hum softly.

“You like it?” Beau asks, brushing his thumb along your calf softly. You give an innocent shrug of your shoulders.

“You want to taste it?” You reply. Beau’s brows scrunch together just slightly, those frown lines reappearing and making you smile amusedly. You push yourself down from the desk and into his lap in one gentle movement, your knees nestled either side of his hips.

You lift the glass and take a small sip of the expensive liquid, then lean forwards. It’s on your lips when you first kiss him. Sweet and smoky, just like he likes it. His big, brutish hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck, holding you against him.

You nip softly at his bottom lip, holding back an excited whimper as he tugs gently at your roots. You caress your tongue against his, the flavour of it now on both of your tastebuds. Notes of caramel and vanilla.

You hum softly, gentle fingers tracing over the salt and pepper coloured stubble on his jaw, “Mm, I think I like the taste of bourbon.”

Beau’s hand trails down your spine, grabbing at your hip, his other hand coming to hold at your other. He pulls you firmer onto him. You grind yourself down onto him slowly.

You can taste the cigar on his tongue, now mixed with the bourbon. As much as you didn’t think you’d like the pairing, you like the way it tastes on him. It tastes like how you’d expect him to taste.

Well aware that you’re about to spill expensive bourbon on his even more expensive rug, Beau takes the glass from your hand and sets it back down on the desk, tugging you closer to him.

He pulls back and tilts your chin. Now that you’ve made it clear that he can have you, he takes a moment to decide whether he wants to take you upstairs and fuck you in his bed, or right here on his desk.

Slipping your hand between your legs, shifting back for better access, his decision is made for him as you stroke your palm over his black slacks. You lift your gaze, looking at him in the eye as you gently graze your touch over his bulge.

Beau’s thumbs stroke slowly over your hips.

He watches your face rather than your movements as you reach forwards and gently slip his belt from the first loop, then move to work open the buckle.

Your attention quickly shifts. Beau raises his brows as you abandon the now unbuckled belt and instead sit forwards to loosen his tie. This repeats, you get halfway through unbuttoning his shirt and move back to the belt. You’re nervous.

Beau catches your busied hands between one of his, holding them still against the leather of his belt. He does the work for you, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way and slipping it off of his shoulders, leaving him in a white undershirt and his slacks.

He watches the way your eyes study the material, as you try to make your mind up about what you’re about to do next. He decides for you, taking hold of the bottom of the undershirt, sitting back to lift it over his head and drop it down along with his shirt.

You bite the inside of your cheek softly as you trail your fingertips from his shoulders to his hips, tracing each inch of the newly exposed skin.

It’s been over fifteen years since he was with anyone else. He was expecting not to like this as much as he had liked being with his wife, but there’s a level of intrigue he gets from watching you. He enjoys it.

“Your turn.” Beau decides, thumb brushing against the hem of your sundress. You stand up from his lap. Beau picks his cigar back up and lights it again, watching as you step out of the dress.

He lifts his hand, index finger extended, then motions it in a small circle as he exhales another breath of grey smoke. Your lips quirk as you turn for him, slowing so that he can get a good look at you from behind before you’re facing him again.

…

#beau cyclone simpson #Jon Hamm #Beau Simpson #top gun: maverick #ceasefire

[mikhailwrites]

Waiting for Connection 1 / Ghost x Soap NerdAU

Last week was really hard for me and as much as I love the MWIII rewrite, I really needed something comforting. So I took an AU idea that was brainstormed on the Ghoap Discord and decided to go through with it.

Ghost chose to play Arma, because it offers at least a semblance of realism. A meager attempt at simulation of life he lost after the injury. He wouldn't call himself a hardcore gamer, but he supposes he can be a tad too intense at times. If only the random people he plays with could keep up with him. Then one day, a player with a handle CallMeSoap joins the game. He seems to be more than able to follow Ghost's virtual command. A little bit too well, if Ghost is being honest.

Also on AO3

“Thirty feet, I said thirty feet and no cover! Do you know what does that mean? It means you don’t toss a bloody frag!” Ghost seethes, angry enough to let go of his mouse and keyboard, afraid he might break them. Before him is a plain screen with a “Mission Failed” message.

“Hey man, chill, ‘s just a game, Ghost, don’t be a cunt,” DanDeLeon87 tries to defuse the situation. He’s not entirely wrong; of course, it is just a game. If someone should be able to tell the difference, it’s Ghost with his years of service in SAS. On the other hand, he plays this particular game precisely because it’s about the closest to the real thing without the stakes. He knows it’s not entirely healthy; hell, his therapist even said so, which is bloody hysterical, considering the military videogames were her idea in the first place. Well, Ghost supposes it simply works too well.

“I’m well aware, Leon, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do better, does it?” Ghost shoots back at his teammate. “Well, whatever, I think I’ll call it a day anyway. Thanks for the game.” He doesn’t even wait for the response before disconnecting.

Simon’s not tired enough to go to bed yet, and the weather outside is bad enough that he can’t be bothered to go to a pub. Ghost takes the headset off, taking care to tap the switch to turn off his mic before he sets it down on a custom-made stand an acquaintance 3D printed for him.

Going to the kitchen, Simon opens the fridge and scans the shelves. He knows exactly what’s in there; it’s just that standing there, basking in the yellowish light and pretending to mull over his options is comforting in a way.

In the end, he takes out a can of Guinness and a frying pan covered with plastic foil. Ghost never cooks for a single meal. It wouldn’t warrant the time, the dishes, and the effort. Today, he’s finishing the ginger beef he made yesterday.

Of course, as soon as he closes the fridge, something brushes against his legs and announces itself with a loud, demanding “meow!”

“I vividly remember giving you supper an hour ago,” Simon eyes the cat accusingly, and the stare is returned tenfold. “This is my dinner.”

“Meow!” Stripey sits as if to underline the level of his displeasure.

“Oh, piss off,” Ghost scoffs, ripping the foil from the pan and putting it on the stove. The words have no bite as he goes to a cupboard, fishing out a package of treats. “You’re gonna be fat,” he quips as he fishes out a few pieces, offering them up on his palm.

#call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghost x soap #ghoap #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #cod fanfic #ghost has a cat change my mind #22ghost is a nerd just like 09ghost is #nerd au if it didnt exists it does now

[mugenloopdalove]

I. Don't have the energy to make a full post so I'm just gonna copy the fic here bc I NEED an answer for why it didn't even get a like.

It's set in the shopkeep Theil au. I'll rb the post explaining the au too

There was never truly a “quiet” moment in the Corner Curios shop. Brimming with raw unfiltered magic, the legends that the shop itself was alive had real merit. Even into the latest hours, when the city was silent and still, it seemed like the shop was still as lively as anything. Rumors had spread all across Baldur’s Gate of seeing a book fly across to another shelf, or a broom moving on its own. Those more skilled in magic claimed you could see how the weave enveloped every inch of the shop. And with the strange, unspeakably powerful sorcerer behind the shop, any one of these rumors could be true.

Even dealings with devils.

There were days where the shop lights stayed on into the strangest hours, but the doors remained magically locked...

“...And it seems that the words creeping in the city’s deepest shadows, the daggers that shoot through the tongues of the snakes and urchins of the alleyways... is that our little legend has made some dealings with the devil on nights just like tonight, when their innocent establishment is shrouded in the secrets of midnight. I’m sure any devil worthy of their soul is rather dashing, wouldn’t you, Theil?”

Leaning against the doorframe of the storage closet, staring down the loiterer with an irritated grin, was the fabled shopkeep seemingly on everyone’s tongue. The tiefling’s face and general mannerisms were as well known as their outstanding customer service and endless selection, but few saw the true face behind Corner Curios.

“Well then, Raphael, my most loyal loiterer,” they replied with a sneer. “Surely you know one.” They stepped towards the table set in the corner of the shop and sat across from the devil, the tension between the two all but visible in their surroundings. The two held a firm gaze, the unspoken challenge handed out. The game had begun.

The silence is broken with the tiniest thunk as a rather large book was sent hurtling right at the back of Raphael’s head, making Theil break out into a fit of childish laughter.

“I see your sense of humor is as refined as ever, dear old shopkeep,” Raphael said dryly, picking up the book to examine it. “Ah, The Beginner’s Guide to the Arts. Don’t you think this is a rather childish simplification of things for someone as studied as The Sorcerer Who Would Become A Bard?” There was a heaviness to the title, one that led the tiefling to flick a small flame in his face as he laughed mockingly.

“That was a working title after a month of no sleep.” Theil hissed, cringing over the dumb joke they made after too much wine and not enough rest. “And it’s still better than any of your little ‘contracts,’ dear devil on my shoulder.” They got up to reach for a bottle of wine left on the counter with two golden glasses, as if prepared for the occasion. Too prepared.

The devil’s in the details.

“The daring shopkeep tried all to make the devil they knew all too well into but a distant memory, a speck on their otherwise undoubtedly flawless reputation free of any crime or harm, but their methods, as sad and as simple as the person behind them, are-”

“So are you going to drink the wine? Because if you’re going to keep going like this I might need both glasses.” Theil’s face remained stone cold, in no way humoring the theatrics that had already far outstayed their welcome.

“Do you truly think you can trick me into-”

“Do you think I’d waste vintage wine gifted to me by the friend of my enemy on trying to kill a fly that found his way through the window?” Theil bit back, huffing and taking a purposefully dramatic sip from their glass.

“Ah yes, that wizard you’ve cozied up to. Quite the choice.” Raphael paused before taking a drink of the wine, then stopped to look at it. “Right, it would be beneath you to sully this with poison. Your tastes are finer than that.” He leaned over the table a bit, grinning at Theil with a spark in his eye. “Still... quite the sordid tragedy you’re setting up for a love lost, isn’t it? I knew you weren’t beneath petty underhandedness, but you’ve set up a whole show for me to enjoy, haven’t you dear?”

“It would have been nice to know sooner that you knew the players, Raphael,” Theil looked out at the shop absentmindedly, reflecting on the “heroes” that had found themself tied up with the greatest villain they had known. Everyone wrapped around Reya as if she weren’t the most miserable, selfish, miserable person anyone could know. They knew she was using them all just as she had used Theil in the past. But they were going to get their revenge, one way or another.

“Now now, I’m not just another pawn you can set, my meddlesome friend. You know as well as I do that even information comes with a price.” A grin spread across Raphael’s face, his more devilish features starting to show as he leaned in even closer to the unamused sorcerer. “So what do you say? Be a good pawn and-”

Theil erupted in laughter, so strong a bookshelf shook on the other end of the room. They laughed for only a second before their expression returned to the scowl that was ready to chase the devil himself out with a broom. “Your sales pitch is still as appealing as hag water, devil,” they cut back, rising from their seat and sauntering toward the man in front of them. “I don’t need your help to set the stage, and I’m still making pretty good use of my soul.” They leaned in close to him, smirking as their faces were just about touching, focusing a bit of energy just to remind him of just how much their soul was worth. Of just how much raw magic they held that made the it worth so much. The game couldn’t end now, afterall. The winner wouldn’t be crowned today, or tomorrow, or ever. That was the fun of it.

Raphael, for once, was silent, until Theil pulled away with a victorious smirk. “Checkmate, old friend.” Theil said, secure in their victory for this round. “NIce try though, you almost won there. Maybe next time?” They hummed as they walked away, sorting shelves to seem busy. “Now, I’ll have to see you off. The show is about to start, and I doubt you can afford the front row seats.”

“I’m almost hurt. If you start having visitors, you won’t need me to warm your lonely nights anymore.” Raphael tried to wrap an arm around Theil, but found himself instantly shoved back by a gust of wind.

“That’s enough, don't you think? Or does the great devil Raphael not have other appointments?” Theil taunted, their temper finally reaching its limit.

“Right, right, I have far better things to do than humor your childish games any longer. Good luck with the show though, break a leg out there.” The friendly, familiar tone made Theil ready to attack again, but something stopped them.

“You’re wasting time now, devil. Just get a move on before someone sees you,” they said, voice ice cold.

“Very well, I’ll leave you to your miserable farce.” Raphael took a step with a superior grin. “And, Theil darling? Checkmate.”

Before the tiefling could fight back, Raphael was gone, and Corner Curios was silent again.

The shop was still.

The stage was set.

“Let the show begin.”

#gerard's diary

[brandogenius]

hihihi!!! okay so hear me out i'm a barista so i had lots of thoughts and delusions about jb and barista!reader...

when jb comes in, reader definitely says the order at the same time as jb and smiles every time they accidentally talk in sync and jb is grinning and apologizing for talking over her and lowkey panicking while reader is writing her order on the cup and some doodles

i know DAMN WELL julien is giving hella tips, at my job our cash tips are split evenly between baristas so i just have the feeling jb is counting the visible baristas and doing the math for how much of a tip exactly she needs to give all together for reader to get the tip jb wants to give her (does that make sense??) + reader is always shocked at how big of a tip julien gives

reader giving her the cute/silly steam stickers that go on the hot drink lids + julien definitely has a little collection in her car on some random paper of every single one she gets (at my job rn we have valentines stickers and they're like conversation hearts with words on them...im imagining reader trying to shoot her shot and putting a sticker on her cup that say 'kiss me' or 'ur cute' or something similar and julien is about to frame this sticker on her wall)

after a certain amount of time (assuming the shop doesn't ask for names) reader learns juliens name and when jb comes in with the boys reader greets her by name and phoebe and lucy are like :0 and juliens grinning walking up to the counter with them and she's like "hiiii 😇🥰"

when there's a rude customer and julien happens to be there she stops reader when they bring her drink be she sees how overwhelmed and frustrated they are and she apologizes for the customer being rude and says something super nice about how important customer services jobs are and how employees deserve sm more than they usually get from those jobs (like that interview she had talking about how she doesn't tell waiters when her order is wrong esp if she can see they're stressed out) and accidentally starts rambling with her big girl words and reader is barely taking in what she's saying but is also on the verge of tears at how sweet jb is

julien comes in and orders her drink but orders something to bring to lucy or someone and reader is like "oh?" and jb is so quick to reassure that it's for her FRIEND not ANYONE in particular just her BESTEST BUD

could you imagine how cute it'd be if the place had themed drinks and stuff for pride month and jb is asking reader about said pride specials and reader is so excited about it all and julien is silently taking notes making sure reader is in fact gay and not an extremely passionate ally

one of these days jb comes in and it's not busy at all so reader and julien get to chit chat about random stuff until she has to actually leave so julien orders and reader writes her number on the back of the cup and says 'text me! :D' or something cute that tells julien she wants to keep talking and julien doesn't even realize bc the writing was facing away from her and when she does notice there's more on the cup than usual she like dies on the spot

OKAY IM DONE I COULD GO ON FOR FOREVER IM SORRY FOR YAPPING SO MUCH AHHH i just LOVE this hc and i can make it sososo accurate as a barista

-🪷

LOTUS ANON!!! THIS IS SO CUTE I LOVE THIS SO MUCH AHHH!

learning juliens name because they talk so much and reader knows her order like at the beginning it might’ve been like “hey it’s ice latte girl, how are you?” to knowing exactly what time jb comes in she doesn’t even need to wait because you have the coffee just made by the time she walks in

reader listening to her ramble about customer service and the use of big words intrigues them, reader is like… woah

reader who started to draw little hearts on juliens cup 😭 when jb orders something for lucy and reader stops her drawings like “shit shit shit” and jb catching on like NO WAIT IM SINGLE!! bit of angst to add but maybe the next few times reader doesn’t draw any doodles on jbs cup and she misses them until jb is like “you don’t doodle anymore :(“ and readers like “sorry - i didn’t know if i was coming off as weird or something”

STOPPPPP!!! brownie points if reader has a lesbian cup in the corner with their own drink and julien looks at it like 👀 👀

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH TELL ME MORE IM ADDING THIS TO THE COFFEE SHOP AU!!!

#pom speaks #anons #lotus anon the beloved

[x-ladyathena-x]

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: smoking/drinking, language, sad!tommy, Thomas Shelby needs a hug, vulnerable Tommy Shelby, PTSD episode, angst, fluff, comfort

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: When your family’s pub is in danger of being overtaken by the Peaky Blinders, you’ll do anything to keep your family’s welfare intact, even marry your worst enemy. As passions and tempers run high, you realize that you might not hate Mr. Shelby as much as you think you do. There are NO spoilers for the show in this fic, don't worry!

Note: Season 6 of Peaky Blinders has FINALLY hit netflix(US) and I am so excited! To celebrate I made this sweet, angsty, comforting little oneshot. Enjoy!!!

the title of this piece is a quote by George Santayana (1922) —although some accredit it’s origin to Plato, but that’s a whole can of worms I’m not opening here—Santayana said this, referring to the slaughter that was WWI, meaning: because of human nature, peace will always be finite. Since our boy, Tommy Shelby left France with nothing to show but ghosts en tow, I figured this title was appropriate.

“Another!”

You ignored the slurred drunken voice of the man seated at the bar behind you.

He pounded his drinking glass against the bar top so hard, you were surprised it didn’t shatter. “Girl! I said another,” The man yelled at your back. “What are you? Fuckin’ deaf?” He grumbled, but was interrupted.

“Arthur,” a deep steady voice cautioned, “that’s enough.”

You froze. He was back. Thomas Shelby… head of the infamous crime syndicate, The Peaky Blinders.

“Please forgive my brother,” the gravelly voice said, “he doesn’t always use his manners.”

“Fuck you Tommy,” Arthur slurred.

You glanced over your shoulder, and looked back to Tommy, indicating that you’d heard him. Still, you didn’t say anything and went back to pretending to polish glasses behind the bar.

The sound of a barstool raking across the wooden floor made you grit your teeth. Tommy was sitting down. Now you had two Shelby brothers seated at your bar. One Shelby brother was enough to run out all your good paying customers, the respectable ones at least, but two Shelby brothers would ensure that nobody at all respectable would stop in for the rest of the day.

“Don’t even bother sitting down, brother,” Arthur began, and you heard him rake his glass across the bar, picking it up, “the service here is shit,” and he threw his lowball glass full force into the mirror back of your bar.

The mirror shattered everywhere. It cut your hands as the pieces fell. You were enraged at the blatant disrespect of your property and reached for the pistol hidden under the bar and pointed the barrel at the eldest Shelby brother.

Arthur never flinched, but Tommy was on his feet in no time.

“Let’s take it easy, yeah?” Tommy calmly said to you, “don’t need to be shooting anyone today.”

At that moment, your father entered the room. His face was that of shock and panic, seeing you threatening a member of Birmingham’s most notorious gang at gun point. The next few moments were a bit blurry, but they involved your father disarming you, scalding you, and then locking you in the back room.

You spent an unknown amount of time picking at the lock to the store room with no luck. It could’ve been minutes, it could’ve been hours, and when it finally opened, you saw your father standing there with his hands on his hips.

“We need to talk.” He said. But he wasn’t angry. He sounded grief stricken, sick, and nervous.

The two of you walked back into the pub, which was empty now. He went and locked the front door and turned the open sign to closed.

“What’s going on?” You asked, growing more nervous.

Your father sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “they’re taking over the pub. They want to make it another one of their family businesses.”

Anger flooded you, “no. They can’t do that, they can’t kick us out onto the street, they can’t just take it from us without paying. where will we go?”

Before you finished talking, your father had already begun to shake his head, “they don’t wanna kick us out. And they’re not planning to just take it.”

Your brows furrowed, “what? But you said they want to make it a family business. Are they paying you to buy it?”

“The pub will be your dowry,” he said without meeting your eyes.

You laughed, still confused, “my dowry? But I’m not engaged.”

“You are now,” your father said gravely, “to Thomas Shelby.”

———————

You spent the better part of the next three days sulking. Still, you tended to your bar keeping duties, like the dutiful daughter you were but inwardly, you were angry.

In all honesty, you didn’t blame your father. They’d have probably shot him on the spot and taken you and the pub anyway, had he refused them. No, your anger and hatred was aimed at Thomas Shelby.

The bell at the door tinkled and you looked up to see who entered… speak of the devil.

It was morning still, so you hadn’t fully opened for the day yet. It was just the two of you.

Tommy leaned against the bar in his effortlessly casual manner. You ignored him as you set up chairs and buffed tables with a rag, getting ready for the impending after work crowd. He didn’t speak, he just watched you with his ice blue eyes.

“Can I help you with something, Mr. Shelby?” You said to him when you could ignore him no longer, “we’re not open yet.”

He pulled a cigarette from the inside of his coat, and ran it over his plump lips before placing it between them and lightning it. You gripped the rag in your hand tightly as you watched the action. You were annoyed with yourself for how disarmingly handsome you found him.

“Just came in here to get a better look at my property.” He exhaled a cloud of smoke in a huff

You hated this man.

You walked around the table you’d been cleaning to better face him and crossed your arms, “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you mean the pub, and not your newly betrothed.” You said with as much venom as you could muster.

He took another drag of his cigarette, “no, Love. I mean you.”

You felt your face get hot with anger, but you couldn’t speak. His calm gaze never left your face, which infuriated you further.

Tommy blew out a cloud of smoke, “I mean no offense. Just business.” He snubbed out the cigarette in one of the ash trays on the bar top and turned to walk away.

You watched him go, and if it weren’t for the love of your family and the fear for their safety, you’d have lobbed the nearest chair at the back of his head.

He paused before opening the door to leave and looked over his shoulder back at you, “For the record, I consider myself the real winner in this deal.”

“Why?” You couldn’t help yourself. Damn your sharp tongue, “pretty barmaids are a dime a dozen. Why not go solicit one of them if you are that desperate to fuck someone over.”

You could’ve sworn you saw the ghost of a smile dance over his lips before he stilled his expression. Tommy crossed the floor and over to where you stood in just a couple quick strides.

He never touched you but had you moved even a hair’s width, you’d have brushed noses with him. Your senses were engulfed with him. The tang of sweat and gunpowder mixed with the sooty air outside and his cigarette still on his breath filled your nose. He could kill you right now for disrespecting him if he wanted to. You’d heard stories of him killing men for less.

“I’m not who you think I am,” he said in his deep velvety voice.

“No,” you said, your anger still speaking for you, “you’re worse.”

“Hmm,” he hummed a laugh, “maybe so. And maybe,” he leaned closer, brushing passed your nose. You felt his lips barely brush against yours as he spoke, “maybe you’ll find out soon enough.”

The absence of his warmth made you open your eyes. You didn’t even remember closing them. You licked your lips involuntarily as you stood there and watched him walk out of the pub and back onto to street, closing the door behind him.

You breathed out a heavy sigh and felt your stomach flutter and hated Tommy Shelby even more.

—————

All night, as you worked, you felt Tommy Shelby’s eyes on you, no matter how you tried to ignore him. He ordered a whole bottle of whiskey through the window of his private “meeting” room and if you had to guess, he wasn’t in a sharing mood, so the bottle was for him alone.

The crowd was a rowdy one tonight, spurred on by the Shelby brothers and all the type of people they attracted. Your feet ached and so did your back, you’d be glad when the night was over and you could finally crawl into bed.

The hours waned and the crowd thinned until the last customer left and your pub was empty. You were about to begin sweeping the floors when you heard a noise from the Shelby’s private room.

You pushed open the door to the room and heard the clink of a bottle on the floor. You picked it up. Empty.

Just as you were thinking the wind had blown it down, you heard something stir from the bench seat against the wall.

Through the dim light, you were able to make out the outline of a pair of shoulders and a back. Someone was asleep on the bench. Passed out, from the night’s drinking.

You looked down at the bottle in your hand and saw the unmistakable label of the whiskey you’d given to Tommy Shelby earlier in the evening. You considered leaving him and shutting the door behind you, he wasn’t your problem. But something stopped you.

You heard the tiniest whine escape his lips in his sleep.

“No,” he whimpered quietly, followed by a resounding “NO!” he called out as he began to thrash, “they’re coming.”

Your indifference to him faded and was quickly replaced with concern.

Your father had explained to you a while ago about the ghosts that the men brought back with them from the war.

You remembered seeing the previously bright, alive eyes of old, regular customers return as hollow and dim. They drank a little more deeply from their bottles than they did before and carried an air of somber sorrow that was hard to put into words but you knew it when you saw it.

Or, rather, you felt it.

This is how it felt as you watched the man before you, lying vulnerable while the ghosts he carried with him reared their ugly faces.

You walked over to him, tentative to touch him in his panic.

“Thomas,” you whispered gently, “Thomas.”

You reached out your hand to touch him. He wrapped his hand around your wrist and gripped it tight. He stared at you with blank eyes before rolling off the bench and collapsing onto the floor, his entire body heaved with sobs.

You didn’t know what to do, so you sat down on the floor beside him and wrapped him in your arms. You held him for a long time, held him until he finally stilled. All the while, he clutched onto you for dear life.

————

The next morning came too early. You arose for your daily chores and opening tasks for the pub but last nights events still weighed heavily on your mind.

You were lost in your own head while cleaning the bar top until the sound of someone clearing their throat made you look up.

It was Tommy.

He stood with his usual formal, commanding posture and lit a cigarette before he began speaking, “I uh, wanted to apologize for my behavior last night.” He took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled the smoke, “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

You shook your head and looked back down at the bar as you absentmindedly buffed it, “Nothing to apologize for, Mr. Shelby.”

“Please, call me Thomas,” he hesitated for a moment, “I rather liked hearing you call me Thomas last night.” He looked up at you with his striking blue eyes but he didn’t look as harsh as the previous encounters you’d had. There was a softness there as he looked onto you.

You felt your cheeks flush and looked down.

He chuckled, “It’s that easy to fluster you, is it?”

He put out his cigarette and looked up at you, “thank you for being so kind to me, last night. Even though people like me don’t deserve it.” He turned to walk away.

You found your voice, “why?”

He paused but didn’t turn to face you, “why what, Love.”

You ignored the pet name and didn’t let it deter you, “why don’t you feel you deserve kindness?”

He laughed under his breath and turned around, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. He looked amused, “You said it yourself, I’m the worst kind of lowlife.”

“I didn’t call you a lowlife,” you countered. Though, you did call him the worst, you thought guilty to yourself.

“You didn’t have to, but it’s what you meant.” He took a step toward you until the bar top stopped him from walking any closer, “and i am.”

Your heart hammered in your chest.

His eyes flickered from your wide eyes down to your lips, “if this bar weren’t here, I’d have already shown you what kind of lowlife I am.”

You ground your teeth at the hollow threat, “don’t act like the bar top is stopping you. You’re not the act you portray in the streets: Thomas Shelby, the notorious gangster, taking what he wants.” You could feel your confidence growing with every word you spoke, “I saw the real Thomas Shelby last night. Your heart bleeds just like every other poor soul that returned from France. You’re not a hardened criminal, you’re just a man, a broken one, that’s too stubborn to ask for what he wants. You’ve gotta make a big show about taking what you want: the pub, and me.” You emphasized the last word.

You realized too late that you’d overstepped an unspoken boundary. Tommy smashed his fist on the bar and made you jump. But you maintained your ground.

You thought he was going to yell, you were surprised he didn’t leap over the bar. But he just stood there soaking in your words until he could hold your gaze no longer.

He wilted under your unwavering confidence, “Yeah, Love, you did.” He conceded,” You did see the real me.” He hesitated, “I just hoped that you wouldn’t have to see it so soon. I had hoped that I’d be able to win you over before scaring you away with all that.”

There was a tense silence in the room as Tommy stood there, allowing his true self to be revealed to you. A true act of vulnerability. His darkness laid bare for you to either accept or judge.

After a moment he spoke again, “I’m gonna be a good husband to you.” His beautiful eyes locked onto yours, “I’ll treat ya right. No, i’m not perfect but I swear to always do right by you.”

You smiled and reached out to take his hand. You gave it a light squeeze, “I know you will.”

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #peaky fookin blinders #tommy shelby x reader #sad!tommy shelby #angst #fluff #comfort #x ladyathena x #only the dead have seen the end of war #the peaky blinders

[pfhwrittes]

retail hell au again because why not. so imagine with me that 141 fellas find you after a miserable customer has made you cry.

warnings: reader!character is experiencing the aftermath of a panic attack/distressing emotions when she’s approached by the boys, nothing explicitly stated but she’s feeling a bit vulnerable.

fem!reader and the use of gendered pet names (hen, love) and use of the word cunt as an insult to describe a customer.

also apologies, i’m english and my grasp on scottish slang/scots has mostly been informed by the wonderful show Still Game which is distinctly glaswegian in flavour and various scottish twitter posts.

so you’re hiding out in the smoking area (lmao smoking area, okay let’s be honest it’s where a bucket filled with sand has been dumped near an ex-display bench about idk 20 feet from the customer entrance) because you just need 5 fucking minutes to compose yourself…

gaz is actually coming back from his lunch break and spots you hunched up on the bench in a way that looks truly uncomfortable. he carefully sits next to you and offers a soft smile when you look over at him. “bad customer?” he’s gentle when he asks and doesn’t make a fuss when you make a truly gross sniffling noise and wipe at your eyes. “want a hug?” you shake your head no and hunch in tighter on yourself. “want a milkshake?” you shrug and he passes over a strawberry milkshake. surprisingly he doesn’t say anything and let’s you drink in peace. you like gaz, he’s always friendly and warm when you interact briefly on the shop floor. he always seems to know what to say or do to get the best out of you and everyone else around him. eventually you check your phone and see it’s been 10 minutes since you left the customer service desk with tears in your eyes and lump burning your throat. embarrassment and residual anxiety washes through you when you recall how you’d all but fled to the safety of the smoker’s bench despite not smoking yourself. gaz catches your shudder when you check the time and knocks his shoulder into yours gently. “don’t worry, i’ll let price know you need a few more minutes, alright?” gaz gets up and heads inside the building, you know he’ll speak to price so you unfurl a little bit and chew on the straw of your milkshake.

soap and simon find you next. soap’s chattering away about the most recent delivery as they both approach your bench. simon stops dead a respectable three feet away but soap throws himself onto the bench bumping his knee into yours “what’s the matter wi’ you then, hen? you’ve a face like a smacked arse”. you shift away from soap, usually you don’t mind his directness but it’s just rubbing you the wrong way right now. you’re still feeling raw and a bit sick from finishing gaz’s milkshake and lingering anxiety. “fucks sake johnny, leave ‘er alone.” simon grumbles and fishes a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. “how? am just askin’ what’s the matter!” soap’s hands swat the air near your face and you shuffle further along the bench to avoid being hit in the nose in his agitation. “johnny.” simon snaps and soap huffs and folds his arms across his chest. it’s quiet amongst the three of you while simon taps out a cigarette and pats down his pockets looking for a lighter. soap shoots a wink at you and starts playing with a lighter that apparently has just appeared from thin air. “give me my lighter back johnny.” “gies a cigarette an’ i’ll trade it.” “no.” “c’mon simon! wan little cigarette.” “fuck off.” “awright then you miserable bastard.” you shake your head at their bickering and hold out your hand. soap pouts but drops it into your open palm. you lob the lighter in a poor underhand throw to simon who plucks it out of the air easily and nods in appreciation. “aw c’mon hen, that’s no’ playin’ fair!” soap whines and knocks his knee into yours “i thought i was your favourite.” “favourite pain in the arse.” is simon’s dry response around the lit cigarette and you crack a wobbly smile. “there she is! didn’t i tell you si?” soap’s grin is blinding “i knew we could cheer her up!” your wobbly smile starts to resemble more of its usual cheer when you catch simon’s eye roll directed at soap. you open your mouth maybe to defend soap or maybe to provoke him, you haven’t quite decided, when a pointed throat clearing catches your trio’s attention. your smile drops off your face and the anxiety that had started to quiet down in the face of johnny’s cheerfulness rises again in your belly because price is aiming a stern look towards the three of you from only six feet away.

price gently sits next to you on the bench when you’re certain simon and johnny are back inside. johnny squawking about the injustice of having his break cut short and simon calling him an idiot in response as they both disappear through the doors. you open your mouth to apologise for skiving off and offer any reason or explanation that will help your case but your teeth click shut when price holds out a palm to forestall your inevitable word vomit. “i don’t want to hear it, love.” price’s tone isn’t unkind, he’s just shooting straight with you, it’s something you quite admire about him really. “that customer was a cunt quite frankly and i’m proud of you for handling her the way you did.” the praise creates a small glow in your chest and burns away the last of your dread. “but, a word of advice, as the duty manager for today?” price offers a small encouraging smile so you nod. “you’re not paid enough to put up with that shit, so don’t.” you grimace and blow out a breath, you want to argue, maybe even defend yourself and explain that it’s fine really that’s just how retail is. price chuckles “no love, listen. you aren’t paid enough, but i am. so next time it happens, send ‘em my way alright?” price offers another smile when you nod in agreement before pushing himself off the bench. “now, c’mon. i’ve got stock that needs counting down the plumbing aisle and you can give me a hand. no more talking to muppets on the customer service desk today.” you follow price back into the store feeling much better than you did twenty five minutes ago.

the rest of your shift passes by easily enough and you make a mental note to buy gaz a milkshake as a thank you when he shoots you a friendly smile as you pass him on your way out the store on your lunch.

#cod fic #kyle garrick x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #john mactavish x reader #retail hell au #‘p why do you refer to johnny as soap when other characters call him johnny and reader thinks of him as johnny?’ #because dear reader of my nonsense i am easily confused by johnny and john #‘but p you refer to john as price’ yeah i know i messed up there but here we are and now i’m too lazy to change it #maybe if i do singular character x reader interactions or singular character headcannons i’ll use john and johnny #also this got pretty soap and ghost heavy so apologies to any gaz and price fans #i just loved writing the ghost and soap banter that i couldn’t stop #jp #jm #kg #sr

[quiet-compassion]

OFMD Fluffvember Day 8: Sunset

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51585355

By the time he heads outside, Stede’s ready to drop. He can’t remember ever being this tired in his life, which, contrary to what one might assume, is saying a lot. The grueling labor and long hours that have gone into taking their property from “technically a house” to “functional inn” have been exhausting. 

But it’s also been wonderful. He and Ed. Ed and him. Amidst all the hard work they’ve been having so much fun. They laugh a lot and pitch each other crazy ideas. They talk, not just about the silly things but the big things too. It’s just the two of them and that means they can just be. Be entirely, genuinely themselves.

…Up until last night when their first-ever guest had shown up. Stede supposes he shouldn’t have been so surprised. They’re innkeepers after all. This is what all the hard work has been for. And they’ve been putting out the “Vacancy” sign for a fortnight now. 

But.

Damn it all if his first response when a man had walked through their front door, bag in hand, inquiring after a room hadn’t been one of supreme annoyance at having their little haven intruded upon. Of course, he’d immediately recalibrated, putting on his cheery “customer service” voice and welcoming the man, Charles apparently, to their establishment.

They’ve been going all out, he and Ed, trying to ensure that their guest had the best possible stay. Now, supper done and dusted, he’s anxious for a taste of his usual routine and makes his way past the porch and onto the beach to enjoy the sunset. After a minute or two he hears the front door open and shut followed by the tell-tale sound of Ed’s footsteps as his partner comes to join him for their evening ritual. 

Ed sits down next to him in the sand, instinctually throwing an arm around Stede’s shoulders as he does so. “This might sound weird,” he says, foregoing any greeting or preamble, “but I get the sense Charles isn’t enjoying his stay.”

Stede frowns. “What? Really? What makes you say that?”

Ed shrugs. “Just a vibe, I guess. Like, for starters, I invited him out to come watch the sunset and he said no.”

“Did you tell him how good the view was?” Stede asks, turning to look back over his shoulder at the inn. “Did you mention that it would be extra colorful tonight after the storm?”

“Course I did!” Ed nods emphatically. “It didn’t sway him. Said he just wanted to lie down for a bit.”

Stede snaps his head back around to Ed, eyes wide in disbelief. “Lie down? But, surely he’s not turning in for the night! We haven’t had storytime yet!”

Ed grimaces. “I know, mate. I think he’s passing on storytime too.”

“But I was in such good form last night! I pulled out all the stops to be sure to impress him on his first night here. It must have been half a dozen voices I was juggling!”

“It was bloody impressive, babe. Maybe your best storytime ever,” Ed assures him, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “That bit where the witch revealed she’d been the queen all along? What a twist!”

Stede gives a nod of agreement, “High drama for sure.” Shoulders slumping in disappointment he asks, “Doesn’t he even want to know how it ends?”

“Ungrateful guy, if you ask me,” Ed sighs. “Doesn’t appreciate storytime, misses the sunset, didn’t finish the cake I made for dessert.”

“It really was a fine cake, Edward. Lots of icing.”

“I know. Plus I added loads of extra sugar, so you know it was gonna be good.”

They fall into silence for a while, watching the sky burn with color before slowly beginning to darken into night. Eventually, Stede shoots a quick glance at Ed’s face from the corner of his eye.

“You know, it felt weird today. Having him here.”

Ed gives an inquisitive sound which Stede understands to mean go on.

“I mean that’s the goal obviously, to have guests at our inn. But, I’ve gotten used to it being just us. I like it being just us. I’d forgotten how exhausting it is to be around someone else. Someone I’m not fully comfortable with.” Stede lets out a little sigh. “I feel a bit like I’ve been performing all day.”

Ed blows out a big breath. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Plus, I hated not being able to joke around like we usually do. We had to be all professional and shit,” he grumbles.

Stede lets out a sympathetic hum. There’s another beat of silence until Stede smiles coyly. “It was strange not being able to kiss you.”

Ed snorts out a laugh and leans his head onto Stede’s shoulder. “Babe, you can kiss me anytime you want.”

“Not in front of the guests,” he pouts.

“Guest.” Ed corrects teasingly. “Well, would you look at that? There’s no guests around right now.”

Stede looks down at Ed with a smile before leaning in to give him a kiss. When they pull back from each other Stede returns Ed’s head to its resting place on his shoulder, hand lightly combing through his silvery hair. 

“Are we cut out to be innkeepers, do you think? If we resent the people who show up at the inn?” he ponders.

“Maybe we’re a new kind of innkeeper,” Ed suggests. “I mean, you turned piracy on its head with your steady wages and safe space ship. Stands to reason that with our combined lunacy we could revolutionize the hospitality industry.”

Stede chuckles at that. “Seriously though, Ed.”

Ed sighs. “Seriously, this is our first go. It’s bound to take a little practice. Maybe we get better. But. If not…then we close up shop. Take the vacancy sign down. Leave the extra rooms until the crew comes to visit. If we want, it can just be us.”

The moon’s high in the sky now, the sunset long since passed. They sit quietly together for a little longer, basking in its glow. 

“Well, I suppose we ought to turn in then,” Stede whispers reluctant to shatter the stillness of the moment. “Since there’s no storytime.”

“Oh fuck that!” Ed exclaims. “If Charles is too stupid to appreciate storytime, that’s his loss. I want to know what happens to the prince!”

Stede smiles, getting to his feet and grabbing Ed’s hand to pull him up too. “Of course, of course. It was quite a cliffhanger last night, wasn’t it?”

They walk hand in hand the short way back to the house. The front room is warm and glowing as the fireplace burns bright. Their guest is, sure enough, nowhere to be seen.

“You know what I think? You should do the voices extra loud tonight. Let Charlie hear what he’s missing and maybe then he’ll come join us.”

Stede shakes his head calmly, crossing the room to pick up the book from the table he’d left it on before plopping himself down on the couch next to Ed. “That’s alright, darling. As you say, it’s his loss. Besides, I’m perfectly happy with just the two of us.”

#ofmd #ofmd fluffvember #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #stuff i write

[naridotcom]

introducing ... 유나리

>> _ profile / bio (tba) / playlist

( ✿ Hello, everyone! I'm Sera here to introduce to you my character! She is brand new so I'm expecting her to grow as I write her. I've listed some plots at the bottom but I prefer to do brainstorming. I'm open to plotting in either Tumblr IMs or over Discord, whichever you prefer. Without further ado, please read my rambling. Like this post ♡ and we can plot! )

₊˙ ◌ ⁎˚ 〇﹒﹙kim yooyeon. female. she/her.﹚guess who was almost late for their shift at xpixel again?? that’s right, it was yu nari! it’s a wonder their job as an arcade attendant isn’t in jeopardy. the twenty-one year old has been working at sunset galleria for one year, and is well known for their quick-witted nature. on bad days, they can be rather fickle, though. when the mall is dead at night, they can usually be found dancing at gwangtaeg gym, but don’t tell their boss!﹚

BEFORE THE SUN SETS

born october 4th, 2001. ( 1004, she asserts reflects her — it is an angel number after all )

grew up in gumi which is a smaller city just outside of daegu.

parents were high school sweethearts who waited to start a family until he finished his military service and she finished school.

mother was a flight attendant. father is a former professional choreographer.

family used to be fairly well off before the drastic change and her mother's medical bills became increasingly more expensive ( as well as her father's spending habit to spoil his kids )

father voluntarily gave up the career after his wife’s passing in 2017 to attend to a portable convenience stand in gumi. their formerly close relationship grew estranged rather quickly.

attended high school in daegu for a better archery & skeet shooting program. impulsively joined a dance club and has been hooked ever since.

moved in with her older brother, doyoon, to daegu in 2019 shortly before graduating. she continued her sport attending keimyung university where she decided to concentrate on media studies.

used to be a competitive archer. failed to make it on the national team multiple times, nevermind the olympics. became easily discouraged and decided to quit ( again, a bit impulsively ) after an argument with her father. she subsequently decided to drop out of school shortly after.

aspires to get into the entertainment industry but knows it’s quite the long shot. for now, she sticks to uploading dance covers, skits, & random videos to tiktok & youtube under the name gumiworm. she has built up a little viewer base she is quite proud of so far.

begins looking for a company to join only to get scammed into a trainee program and drained of almost all her money via their training debt scheme.

feeling hopeless, she became something of a freeloader off her brother but got the brilliant idea to shove her morals to the side out of desperation just to get whatever money she could scrape up.

but joanne nari the scammer only lasted for so long before her brother suggested she get a job at the mall she often hung around so often like a "loser".

LIGHT POURS THROUGH THE WINDOW

works as an arcade attendant at xpixel since early 2022. though, a bit of a lazy one. she helps out anyone who asks but often sits down to play the games when others aren't watching in an attempt to make her shift go by faster. or sneaks in a nap in the dinosaur safari VR machine.

she uses the nerf gun and water gun from the prize table to ward off unwanted guests or customers who overstay their welcome. careful, she has great aim.

determined to get highest score on all of the arcade gun games. catch mimi1004 climbing up the charts.

spends a lot of time at the mall in general but especially enjoys going to the dance studio at gwangtaeg gym to practice choreography.

always has her phone. always taking pictures or filming.

oddly good at fixing things ( to a certain extent ), a trait she picked up from her brother who has a penchant for inventing. being practical helps quite a bit, though.

she is no stranger to putting on an act to get something for free. a convincing & skilled liar. she even stole someone’s phone once to sell but will never admit this. jokes about needing a glucose guardian but never say never.

tendency to be flirtatious. offers compliments — sincere & underhanded.

only actually been in one surface level relationship & lacks experience. enjoys leading people on but falls for people easily as she's rather susceptible to romantic gestures, then forces herself to lose interest when things get a little too spicy.

good listener. purveyor of gossip. collects many rumors, spills to confidants. tell things to her at your own risk. she will hardly speak a word about her own background but is content to know everything about everyone else.

has a good sense of humor and able to laugh at herself... but mostly others. her quick wit gives her a silver tongue.

very opinionated & can come across judgmental for her willingness to speak her mind, notorious for reacting with her face ( ie. side eyeing ).

an introvert. also claims to really hate people but is naturally social despite this.

often plays a vain character, usually an exaggerated version of herself ( channeling goddess gyuri ) — perhaps to compensate for or conceal… something. part of it being that she enjoys entertaining people with her antics. it is not rare to catch a glimpse at her "real self" but it's hard to even say what that is.

a bit fickle & indecisive, sometimes allowing her impulses to take control of a decision ... or out of pure spite.

not malicious by any means but it is easy to interpret her actions as such. she desires attention and love and goes about it in a less than savory way — making her a bittersweet taste.

hates people who smoke. her mother's lung cancer being the main cause. if you smoke any substance, prepare for to be side-eyed and judged.

WALK WITH ME ( potential interaction ideas because i don't have a page yet but i prefer brainstorming mostly! )

anyone who comes to xpixel. she's almost always there. bonus points if you're a bit of a menace or you want to challenge her to a game. the possibilities with this one are pretty endless!

flirtationships a plenty. applicable to any gender; she certainly does not discriminate. she is the type to unabashedly flirt, compliment people, or make flirtatious jokes. ( however when the heat comes, she usually resorts to aloof behavior and runs away. )

obviously people will be put off by her antics so frenemies and antis alike are welcome! antagonistic or toxic relationships are welcome in general.

gossip friend. what is said between us stays between us ... of other people's rumors, of course. but it's best to be careful who to trust with secrets.

fake friends. speaks for itself. mutually beneficial, forced laughter, eye rolls when the other looks away.

an ex. applicable to any gender. she's only dated one person before and it didn't turn out too well... or it ended amicably. who knows? was a rather innocent relationship but it broke her heart.

jokingly, she always says she wants a "glucose guardian" and you are the perfect candidate. she constantly convinces you to buy things for her ( mostly food ) or you might even do so willingly. either way, it makes her happy.

other people who go to the gwangtaeg gym as frequently as she does. even better if they are also into dancing.

she has a "dark past" ( not so distant... maybe 5 days ago is considered the past ) in which she tried to fleece people out of money just to get by. don't look at her if she might have pretended to fall in front of you for sympathy, too.

people who know her real personality and are tired of her putting on this strange over confident persona.

went to high school together

probably more but... let's brainstorm!!

#sunsetintro #sorry this is so long i-

[mandareeboo]

Another Drabble prompt for Dead End: Barney and Norma, while working as security guards, are having some trouble with some rowdy park guests so Courtney and Pugsley decide to help them deal with the trespassers/rowdy guests with a bit of magic and demonic trickery

It's really their fault, honestly. For being so damn amusing. Norma was very stiff and upfront, which Courtney appreciated, though some of the other humans seemed to find it off-putting. Barney, meanwhile, was trying waaaay too hard to be friendly and would bend over backwards with no applause. They make a strange duo; Barney trying to hand out coupons and platitudes while Norma hovers and corrects him on park procedure.

Courtney likes to follow them. How can she not? Human interactions are so strange- vapid and full of unnecessary politeness. Barney had said it was called "customer service".

Maybe it's lame to most demons, but a thousand years on this plane has given Courtney the kind of boredom that leaves even a colorful rock a thing to admire for hours. It's also a good touch whenever her snickers get a little too loud that one or the other will shoot her a reproachful glare.

But rude customers? Man, Courtney didn't know how the human population was booming. It seemed like every third human to enter the park had some petty complaint about something. 'Oh, no, my nachos were too soggy' like get over it. You don't hear Courtney bitching about living in some stupid falling apart hovel.

"What do you mean broken?"

Courtney's tongue flicked out with glee as she crept down the Pauline Phoenix statue to the benches below. Pugsley had made it a habit to follow her- probably to keep her out of trouble. As if some pug could do that to her.

Pugsley glanced up from the book, frowning. "It's the past particle of break."

"I don't think that's the right word."

"If it has more than three symbols it takes me time, okay?"

"Syllables."

"You get a kick out of mocking me, don't you?"

"Always and forever."

Back to the show. Courtney dug an old wrapper out of the trash as Barney held his hands up in an appeasing manner. "It's just standard ride upkeep procedure, ma'am."

"How do you break a water ride?" the customer demanded.

"You forget to cherish it," Norma said bluntly. "Some kid threw a corndog in the gears."

"I don't believe you. You just don't want to put in the effort to get it ready for my family, do you?"

"You think we'd be too lazy to get the ride up but not too lazy to explain it to you?"

"Don't take that attitude with me," the woman snarled. "Kids these days." The customer reached out to wrench Norma's chin upwards. "At least look at me you little brat."

Courtney's claws sink into the fragile wood of the bench. She bares her fangs threateningly, the familiar tingle of fire on her tongue. "Where does she get off, touching Temeluches' flesh vessels?"

(Touching my fleshy weirdos.)

Pugsley sets a solid paw on her shoulder. "Norma can speak for herself."

Norma's jaw worked against the woman's fingers. She glared at her face, eyes wet with unshed tears. Touch was not something Norma handled well, and eye contact was probably second on that list of 'don't make her do it'. "Let. Me. Go."

Barney tries to step in. "Ma'am, please, it's against the rules to touch members of security-"

She stares him down but eventually removes her hand. "Shut your mouth, fat boy. One of you is going to get me a manager right this second, or I'll-"

Courtney tunes her voice out. Pugsley's book snaps shut. The pug adjusts his hat and falls on all fours. "Alright. Time to earn my little good boy points for the day."

The demon cracks her neck. "And time for me to punch another sin on my timecard."

Courtney doesn't stop to consider how caring this might look. She teleports onto the woman's shoulders, delighting in her scream. Pugsley uses the confusion to push between them, barking maniacally.

"Mortal!" she cackles. Fire licks the edges of her words. "You dare to yell at my minions? Only I may break their spirits!"

"Get off me!" the woman bellows, trying to shake her off. Courtney digs her claws into her shirt. Pugsley growls and sinks his teeth into her ankle.

Courtney leans in so close their noses are practically touching. Her voice drops into the hells beneath their feet as she utters, "Begone, fool, or you will learn what it means to touch what is mine."

She teleports the woman just outside of the park, then reappears, clapping imaginary dust off her claws. "You don't need to thank me. I'll get my favor later."

The two blink at her, gobsmacked, before Barney squeaks out, "I think that was illegal?"

Courtney snorts. "There's no laws in Phoenix Parks. We keep it to ourselves, darlin'."

Pugsley stands and wipes a paw across his mouth, disgusted. "Her pants tasted terrible- and not the terrible us dogs like to roll in."

"Her breath was worse."

"Can confirm," Norma mumbled, wiping her eyes rigorously. "Well, that went in a weird direction, but... thanks."

Barney reached down to scritch Pugsley between the ears. "Good boy."

"Oh, sure, let him get all the credit."

Barney shrugs and scritches Courtney between the horns. She playfully bats at his hand but the wagging of her tail kind of gives how much she likes it away.

"Thanks, guys."

#Ask #Question Mandar #professoruber #Dead End: Paranormal Park #Courtney the Demon #Pugsley #Barney Guttman #Norma Khan #I like to imagine that Norma and Barney are kinda like. Marked for Temeluches now #Since the game show and stuff #So 95% of the time when demons come it's like 'oh wait aren't those Temeluches' servants?'

[guzmagang]

Dried Mushroom: Do Not Drink

heyyyyyyyy this started as me being being in @r0-boat ‘s ask box and I wrote it. Planning on doing a part two. This is also posted on my AO3, nasabasa

I’ll come back and fix formatting when I’m on my laptop

Content-Trigger warnings: drugging, kidnapping, manipulation/gaslighting, volo is not a nice man

reblogs greatly appreciated | kofi tips greatly appreciated

"Ah- there's my favorite customer!"

I jump, turning without a thought to face the voice--

"Hello, Volo," I sigh, my blood rushing in my ears starting to soften as the prospect of something dangerous around me leaves my thoughts.

"Out late tonight, are we?"

Volo smiles down at me, his look always a bit bewildered, the dim but illuminated night only reflecting a psychotic grey.

"I meant to head back to a camp earlier but time got away from me," I politely laugh, crossing my arms over myself; the chill of the night making itself known as my hair raises on my skin.

"Ah, that's understandable," Volo relaxes a little, his gaze a bit less intense, "I have set up my own camp for tonight, would you like to accompany me?"

He looks deranged right now but it's better than an alpha tearing us apart.

"Sure," I smile, his hand outstretched to take my own- taking his and immediately being led along.

"I'm afraid the path is a bit muddy, do tell me if you start to get dirtied up."

I hum in response, his hand notably warm as I subconsciously squeeze it, the night chilly and calm. The mud is very real, sticking to my shoes in an uncomfortable weight; the coolness of night just enough to make the mud a bit more unbearable, the chill seeping through to my feet.

"This mud is horrible," I quietly grumble, trudging my feet along, following his steps in an attempt to not sink too far into the mud.

"I have no idea what has made it so unbearable around here," Volo comments, stopping ahead of me, "How bad are your shoes?"

"They're... not great."

"Here."

Volo pulls me closer to him, the mud getting deeper than before- picking me up and holding me against his chest.

"Like a bride."

That is the creepiest thing you could have said in this situation.

I shoot him a look, meeting his exposed eye- a laugh leaving him.

"I'm teasing."

The not-so-great noise of the trudging through mud is one of the only sounds as Volo tightly holds me, his grip strong and sure.

"You didn't need to do this..."

"I can't have you getting sick from a chill, now can I?" Volo notes, softly glancing at me.

I hum, resting my head against his shoulder without thinking as my eyes slip shut.

"Has your research been going well?" Volo asks.

"I... Yeah, it has," I sigh, exasperated.

"Hmm, that's not your normal tone; what's the matter?"

"Do you know me that well now?"

"I would say so, now answer me."

I open my eyes, watching the trees move past us--

This camp is pretty far away.

"I just don't... really want to do it. I do it because I have to, you know? I'm doing it so I can live comfortably, not because I want to."

Volo knowingly hums, readjusting me in his arms.

"I completely understand; what would you do instead of this?"

"I haven't given it much thought..." I trail off, catching myself to think for a moment.

What would I do?

"I think I would like to just.. live, you know? Having a library, maybe a garden, taking care of myself and my pokemon... I think that would sound nice."

Volo hums in agreement, his grip on me tightening.

"Do you enjoy staying in Jubilife?"

"Well. I wouldn't say it's bad, but I don't like really... being around people," I admit.

Volo hums again, glancing down at me and meeting my gaze for a moment; there is something that Volo is always hiding, it feels, but it feels more dubious than normal- perhaps the customer service persona is wearing off for tonight.

"We're almost there."

I close my eyes again, deeply sighing as I relax against him; a twinge of anxiousness in my chest from the newfound intimacy of the situation.

"Here."

I open my eyes as Volo sets me down, sitting me down on a cloth as he kneels before me, taking off my muddied shoes.

"Make sure you stay close to the fire."

I nod as he turns his attention back to other matters, my own mind wandering as a sleepiness settles on me.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah... well, just. Tired."

"Understandable."

A blanket startles me as it rests on my shoulders, Volo adjusting it to wrap around me.

"Volo?”

"Hm?”

“Could I just... rant to you, for a moment?"

"Of course," Volo smiles at me, returning to the pot of water on the fire.

"I'm really emotionally tired over being physically tired; I can always sit down and take a second to breathe, but I can't get out of my own head to relax."

I pause as I look up, Volo offering me a cup.

"Tea?"

I rest the tea in my lap, the warmth of the cup soothing my chilled hands, Volo sitting beside me.

"Continue."

"I'm just really tired of doing everything for everyone. I don't want to sound greedy or like a jerk, but I never feel like I get to do stuff for me. I'm always working. I suppose that's how you are as well."

"I can definitely say I understand the sentiment."

I pause for a moment, contemplating on his tone; his voice changed from the overly friendly smile tainted tone to a more relaxed one, his voice a little deeper and raspy.

"I really just don't want to work just to survive, although that does seem to be the option presented…

I want to be taken care of, I guess. Not dependent, but I don't have to be so self-sufficient. I want someone I can lean on and have with me.

I am getting very tired of being a strong independent woman and I want to simply be a rock."

Volo laughs, taking a sip of his tea, his smile still not leaving his face for a moment.

"I think you should be able to desire a more relaxed life; Mistress Cogita certainly is self-sufficient while not working herself to death."

"Yeah but I'm convinced she's a witch."

Volo laughs again, leaning a little closer to me.

"She might be but don't tell anyone else I told you that."

I giggle, finally taking a sip of my tea.

"This is really good, Volo," I quietly praised him, our closeness sinking in.

"Thank you; I hope it warms you up enough."

I hum in response, his shoulder resting against mine.

"I guess I just feel a little worn down, a little tired of everything that doesn't appreciate me back."

"Mhmm," Volo takes a sip of his tea, "I know for a fact you shouldn't have to work yourself to death to live; you, of all people, should enjoy life for what you can make of it."

I blush at the directness, turning my gaze away from him.

"I mean it; you're one of the bravest, strongest people in all of Hisui and I'm sure it feels like the world is on your shoulders, doesn't it?"

I nod.

Volo moves closer to me, carefully pulling me to him, careful of the tea.

"You should be allowed to have a warm home with someone who loves you. You shouldn't have to pick survival for that to happen."

A wave of vulnerability crashes into me, a quiet sniffle escaping me.

"I'm sure your pokemon would enjoy a break too."

I nod, unable to trust in the stability of my voice, leaning against Volo.

"Oh come here, hand me your tea; it's alright, I have you," He quietly soothes me, holding me against his chest as I bury my face into the fabric of the coat.

"You would enjoy having someone to share dinner with, wouldn't you? Someone to hold you when your body is too tired for its own bones."

I nod against him, one of his hands gently cradling my head.

"I promise you there is someone."

I hopelessly hum, Volo readjusting me to sit on his lap properly, gently stroking my hair.

"How about you finish your tea? Perhaps that'll help you a little."

Volo hands me my tea as he readjusts me- again- to face the fire, his front against my back in a comforting weight and heat. I sip on the tea as I slowly relax against Volo, his hands naturally wrapping around me and holding me against him, a sleepy haze finding home in my head.

I jump as lips touch my ear, Volo firmly holding me against him as he softly kisses my ear.

"Oh don't worry, dear. I have you."

"Volo- what are you-"

"Have you finished your tea yet? It really doesn't need to get cold."

He's right.. right?

I hum, continuing to drink the tea as I pull my legs to me, trying to keep my warmth to myself as Volo continues to hold me, effectively trapping me with him.

"Thank you," I smile, lightly slurring my words together-

You're not this tired, what's going on?

"Volo?..."

"Yes, dear?"

I nonsensically hum as I try to wiggle out of his grasp, his grip lessening.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I... I don't wan-na ..be here," I stumble, trying to shake the tiredness away-

You were never this tired- what did he give you-

"Darling, don't say things like that," Volo coos, standing and following my unsuccessful stumbling.

"What-did- did you do--to me?"

"I didn't do anything, dearest,"

"Stop-calling.. me that."

I shakily walk forward, trying to identify his footprints leading to the camp-

"You told me that's what you liked being called," Volo pathetically says, hurt.

"I.. No?"

The sounds around me mesh together for a moment of panicked blur, the environment surrounding simply blurring together into nonsensical shapes-

A hand suddenly grabbing me, roughly pulling me backwards- landing against Volo as a hand covers my mouth.

"There's an alpha nearby, you know."

I squeal, trying to thrash against an iron grip as he lifts me up, covering my mouth with a sure hand.

"Now now, don't make me gag you."

My clothes burn against my skin as I continue jerking, Volo effortlessly carrying me to his mat, gently laying me down whilst pinning me down.

"I really didn't want to bruise your pretty skin, darling."

I scream as his hand leaves my mouth, his irritated growl not escaping me as his hand wraps around my throat.

"Do that again and I kill you."

A weak sob leaves me as I go limp against the mat, his strength outmatching my own.

"Now now, I didn't want to do that," Volo coos, his hand cupping my face.

"I'm-sorry," I slur, tears blurring my vision more than before, "I'll be-good- don't-hurt me."

"Darling, I have never hurt you," He places a kiss on my cheek, "I promised you that a long time ago, remember?"

Remember?

"N-no..."

Volo sighs as he straddles me, his touch gentle and knowing.

"Your memory has been getting the best of you recently, but I'm here to take care of you, alright?"

I nod.

"Good; I hope one of the clan members didn't drug you, I have no idea how you could be acting like this otherwise."

Tears stream off of my face, my gut twisting in confusion and betrayal-

What's going on?

"Oh goodness," Volo wipes away my tears with his thumbs, "How about we go home? It's always more comfortable to sleep with you, dear."

I nod.

"Just relax... I'll carry you home."

I nod.

A whimper escapes me as I readjust, my body heavy against the bedding.

"There you are," Volo's voice soothes me, his hands running down my arms, "Is this better?"

I weakly nod, not opening my eyes as I try to snuggle closer to the warmth beside me.

"Your Pokémon are very worried; I had to give them a supply of berries to calm them down," Volo quietly says, his breath tickling my neck.

I moan, I think.

"I'll be here until you wake up, darling."

mhmm.

"Volo?"

"Good morning, darling."

What?

I blink slowly, letting reality set in for a moment, the sun streaming into a window onto the floor in front of me.

"Would you like me to close the curtains?"

"What's going on?"

"We're home, darling."

"What are you talking about?" I breathlessly ask, pulling myself up in the bed.

Volo looks over at me, a warmth in his gaze that could be mistaken for fire, letting itself make its mark in my soul.

"I brought you home last night; I hate to say it, but I believe you could have been drugged."

I groan, rubbing my forehead for a moment, memories falling but out of their places, not quite making sense but not wrong enough to dispute.

"I don't feel good..."

Volo hums, pulling the curtain halfway shut, coming to the edge of the bed and sitting beside me.

"How about you lay down and I'll bring you some tea?"

"I don't think I can stomach anything," I groan, his hand on my shoulder pushing me down to the mattress again, "Why didn't you take me to jubilife?"

"Because, you've told me multiple times that it's too crowded for you, how it's too noisy, so I brought you here."

Did I?

"Okay..."

Volo readjusts the blankets, pulling them up enough to cover me again, a weight at my foot alarming me.

"What's-"

"Your Pokémon were very worried about you, dear, so I brought them out so they could watch you."

right...

"Now, I do need to go to work, but I have food and supplies here for you. You do need to rest today, alright?"

"What about survey work?.."

Volo chuckles, stroking my hair,

"You don't need to worry about that, darling," He whispers close to my ear- a gentle kiss startling me.

"We aren't together, Volo.."

"Yes, we are."

His tone is pointed, cutting sharply through the peace.

"Are we?..."

"Yes, darling; I do hope whatever you ingested doesn't hurt you any further. It pains me to hear those things."

Volo gently kisses my cheek, stroking my hair,

"I need to go now, I love you, darling."

what?

"Darling? Why didn't you say it back?" Volo painfully asks after a pregnant silence.

"I love you, too," I say after a moment, his finger gently tilting up my chin, my eyes opening again to meet his.

"Be good today; I'll try to be home early, alright?" His gaze is gentle as he looks down at me nodding. He smiles, pecking my lips softly. His touch leaves me as my eyes slip shut again, his footsteps distant as he leaves, the Pokémon at my feet readjusting;

Just rest now. He has you..

#volo #volo x reader #pokémon volo #pokémon weilder volo #pokémon legends arceus #pla #tw manipulation #tw drugging #tw kidnapping #tell me if I need to add any more tw