#or maybe that weird guy who stares at me in the donut store

[officer-blake]

psst…guess who’s got the hots for you 👀

Is it you, or is it Christie Brinkley? 👀

#or maybe that weird guy who stares at me in the donut store #my killer queen. #my wife. #my love. #🖤

[wasabito]

had so much fun writing for my baby boy tendou, so here’s my entry for the hqhq sfw server collab! be sure to check out the rest on the masterlist found here! enjoy ✨

words: 3.0k

prompt: “you woke me up at 3am for this?”

synopsis: your neighbor is ridiculous, kind of annoying and little bit on the weird side, but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

You had to be the biggest idiot on the planet—an obvious exaggeration, yes, but you were still inclined to believe it was true. 

How else could you explain the feeling of being so utterly fed up with one’s actions like this? Were there enough words in the dictionary to describe just how exhausted you were by your own antics, more specifically, your forgetfulness since that’s what had landed you in a world of pain and embarrassment?

The answer was no.

You sat with your back pressed against your front door, head in your hands and chin tucked between your raised knees and chest. At your side was your wallet along with stacks of newspapers, coupons and whatever else had been stuffed in your mailbox, bills probably. Advertisements too. Honestly, it was hard to be happy about a new restaurant opening up down the block when you were currently stuck—locked out of your apartment to be precise.

The landlord of your cheap little complex wasn’t expected to be back for another hour according to the sign posted outside of his office. So until then, you’d remain posted up by your doorstep like some loiterer. 

You shifted in place and blew a puff of air from your lips, feeling little pinpricks in your legs. For the fifth time in the last forty-five minutes you felt like kicking yourself, hard.

The sun hung low, nearly touching the distant horizon signifying the end of another day. Even the sky was painted a warm umber, casting dim shadows.

“Locked out, huh?” came a snide, but accented voice.

It took you way longer than necessary to realize that suddenly you weren’t the only person on this floor. God, where was your head at?

A pair of forest green crocs stood before you, complete with a few odd charms and trinkets. A cartoon volleyball, pinned next to a smiley face, a donut and a gaudy “i heart paris” chain dangling from the ankle strap. A person’s shoes could say a lot about who they were...your mother thought so, at least.

Resisting the urge to projectile vomit all over this stranger’s rather questionable taste in footwear, your wary gaze panned upward, glossing over white tube socks and a pair of the longest legs you’ve ever seen on a person—yet another exaggeration. You came face to face with a crooked smile. Curious ruby eyes returned your stare with almost the same amount of scrutiny.

Who the hell was this guy?

Mystery-man easily towered over you, and not only because you were hunched over and sitting. He was tall as hell, all lanky build, gangly arms and legs disguising lithe muscle and a surprisingly sturdy frame. He looked like the i-run-every-morning type; semi-athletic at the very least. His buzzed hair was the color of cinnamon, no that wasn’t right, paprika maybe? Either way, it contrasted sharply with the paleness of his skin, so much so that you could see the faint blue of the veins in his arms.

“Yoohooo, anybody hooome?” He tilted his head at you.

“Huh? Oh uh, yeah, I’m locked out. I forgot my key inside and Mr. Laurent won’t be back until later.”

“Hmm. That sucks...”

“...Um… do I… do I know you or something? You look a little familiar.”

He pinned you with a funny look, before pulling out a set of keys from the back pocket of his shorts.

“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t~ I mean we are neighbors, after all.” Laughing as if he’d made some sort of joke, he entered his apartment with a twirl and a dramatic wave of his arms.

You stared at his door for a solid minute, only to finally succumb to your urges and facepalm at your own idiocy. Of course he looked familiar, how could he not when he literally lived four feet away.

With a sigh of resignation, you braced yourself for another hour spent sitting outside your front door. It wasn’t like there was any other place you could go or anyone you could call. The battery icon on your phone blinked red, warning that it was soon to run out of juice. Guess that meant no Among Us or Subway Surfer for you.

Five minutes later, the door next to you opened. It was Mystery-man again, but this time, he sat in front of his door, just like you were. And he did so with a bag of pretzels and a jar of nutella in hand.

“Must be bored out here by yourself.” He crunched on a pretzel before offering you the bag to take some. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep ya company.”

You weren’t sure why, but there was something about this guy that intrigued you. You half-wondered if it was the funny little curl of his smile, or the wideness of his eyes that made it seem like he was looking at all of you, all at once. 

"You must be pretty bored...uh,"

"Satori Tendou, but most people call me Tendou. Miracle boy works just fine too."

"Right... Tendou, as I was saying, you must be incredibly bored to come sit out here with me. You sure you don't have anything important to do?"

Tendou's grinned widened. "Positive! And it costs me nothing to be neighborly, so don't even sweat it."

That was...nice of him?

If sitting outside with you was the way he wanted to spend his late Tuesday afternoon who were you to deny him? And truthfully, you didn't mind the company, at least not really. Provided this guy wasn't some creepy-stalker-weirdo, you were sure there wasn't any harm in getting to know the person who lived one door over.

"So, Tendou, how long have you lived in the area? You don't really look like you're from around here...I could be wrong."

Tendou raised a thin brow at you. "Weeeell, if you're asking about how long I've lived next door, it would be about three maybe four months give or take, but if you're asking how long I've lived in Paris, it would be a year next month. Speaking of, I think Semisemi has a birthday coming up..."

You watched as he pulled out his cell phone and tapped away at the illuminated glass screen. You couldn't help but notice the goofy little anime stickers on his phone case. One in particular caught your attention.

“Is that...Kirara? From Inuyasha??”

“Oho! So, you recognize this?”

Backtracking, you mumble out, “Ah, well…only a little.” Though your face was turned away, the tiny smile on your lips was not hidden from Tendou and he thought you were pretty cute.

Funnily enough, what you had expected to be a rather unnerving and possibly creepy exchange turned out to be anything but. Tendou was incredibly fun to talk to—a bit teasing and a little overwhelming with his superfluous hand movements and gestures. But he was funny and a lot kinder that you would’ve given him credit for.

You learned that he was originally from Japan; it explained his accented French. He had come to Paris right out of high school to study culinary arts in one of the most renowned countries for it. Now he worked as a chocolatier, under the tutelage of a master patisserie in the city, an older man who was both a creative genius and a thorn in Tendou’s side. Tendou spoke of his teacher with equal parts awe and annoyance. 

And he got to know you too. How you’d found yourself in Paris, thousands of miles away from home in an effort to rediscover yourself in the city full of rich history and culture. 

You didn’t have many friends here, and it truly was a pleasure to make his acquaintance.

Soon, you both heard the telltale sound of jangling keys as your landlord rounded the corner with his clipboard in hand. Once you were able to get your door open, you waved a goodbye to Tendou.

“Thanks for keeping me company, you really didn’t have to.”

“No biggie, it was fun!” He threw a mischievous little grin and a peace-sign over his shoulder and reentered his apartment. 

You found yourself wanting to cross paths with him again, and hopefully in better circumstances. But you hadn't known your wishful thinking was soon to manifest as you ambled through grocery store aisles a week later, eyeing down any items with pictures on it.

“Why in the hell is this toilet paper so expensive.” You mumbled.

“So, you complain about the price of toilet paper, but wear sneakers that cost two-thirds our rent.” That voice sounded familiar, and after hearing it for about an hour just days ago, you were a bit surprised you could recognize it so quickly. 

Stunned, you looked up to find Satori Tendou, your quirky neighbor with an arm full of pita chips, a milk carton, and baby carrots.

“I never said I made the best choices.” You found yourself smiling despite the previous crease in your brow. “...Dude, get a cart before you drop everything.”

Instead of getting his own, he simply dumped what he had into your cart with a teasing grin. You couldn’t argue with his logic there. Tendou sidled up against you, once again towering over you with a kind of ease that should be criminal. “Need help reading something?”

You wanted to say no. You almost said no. But swallowing your pride, you gave a weak nod. “Yeah, this word right here.” Pointing to the unfamiliar script printed on the label. “What the heck is this?”

“Weeeeell, looks like that brand is scented, ya know, for when ya—”

“Don’t bother finishing that sentence...please.”

You quickly grab what you need and continue on down the aisle with Tendou following closely behind.

Just like when you’d first met him, he made conversation the entire way. By the time you both made it to the cash registers, you’d argued at least three times over french pronunciations and whether cashews were the cousin of peanuts.

And just as last time, he left you with a grin and a peace-sign while you stared after his retreating back, paid groceries in hand.

After an entire day spent baking, you found yourself on Tendou’s doorstep with a tupperware full of baked goodies later the next evening. You had been meaning to thank him for being such a good neighbor to you. It was certainly unexpected, but a welcome gesture nonetheless.

You only had to knock twice before the door was wrenched open and you were greeted with the set of...vanilla? Some pop song played in the background while your neighbor looked at you curiously.

"H-Hey Tendou, I um...I baked you these." You held out the plastic container, hoping he'd simply take it from you without question and you could return to your apartment without somehow embarrassing yourself. "There's a little bit of everything in there, oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, macadamia nut—wait you aren't allergic to anything, right?"

"Nooope! Not a thing, thanks neighbor!"

"It was no problem, especially since you've helped me, not once but twice now."

Frowning, you couldn't help but be a little upset with yourself. You'd come to France to prove that you could, in fact, live a normal life outside of your family’s jurisdiction but day by day you were proving to need them more and more. 

It was disappointing, to say the least.

"Hmm, what’s with the constipated look on your face. Did the toilet paper not help?” Tendou tilted his head at you with a teasing grin, lips curled at the edges, taunting. You blinked up at him, surprised, and if you were honest, a little annoyed too. 

"Hah?!"

"Just thought it was worth a mention, nighty-night~!"

Tendou proceeded to shut the door on you; one hand rested on the frame and the other held on to the cookies. You quickly took a step back lest he chop your entire arm off, ready to trudge off in the direction of your own home but not before sticking your tongue out at him.

Stupid Tendou, always saying stupid shit. 

You were on the couch, half asleep when it dawned on you that it had been his own twisted, “Tendou” way of cheering you up. 

The rest of the month passed just like that. Occasionally, you would bump into Tendou at the grocery store, or the leasing office, or even the laundromat. And every single time, he’d either make you laugh until your sides hurt or annoyed enough to want to give him a friendly punch. At one point, you two had even exchanged phone numbers, because according to Tendou “it was ridiculous not to have your friends on speedial” which only led to hours spent on Facetime or playing iMessage games.

You knew exchanging numbers would come back to bite you in the ass, it was only a matter of when.

It was clear you weren’t going to any sleep tonight, that was for sure. The incessant buzzing of your cell phone every five minutes was an enemy to your circadian rhythm. You could name on one hand those in your contacts with enough sense to know that you lived in a completely different time zone from them now.

Somehow your neighbor was the very last person you suspected, but it was his contact photo that stared back at you, goofy looking grin and all. You squinted against the brightness of your screen in your otherwise dark bedroom.

you up?

come quick

gotta show ya somethin

come oooon

you're awake, i know you are

It took you less than a minute to shuffle on a pair of slippers, grab your keys (you weren't going to forget them this time) and slip out of your apartment.

You hadn't even knocked twice before the door was pulled open. Tendou looked a mess, more so than usual. Unidentified stains littered the apron looped around his thin waist, streaks of what you hoped were just flour and granulated sugar were all over his hands. You almost wanted to ask if he was baking or dealing dope.

“You woke me up at three in the morning...for this?”

“Yuuup!”

"When I said you could call me at any time, I really didn’t mean any time.” You scratch your side, a contemplative look on your face at the sight of Tendou in what you would assume to be his pajamas. An old volleyball hoodie with the words "Shirazorizawa" printed across the front, and old sweats the were so obviously cut with scissors at the knee.

Rolling your eyes, you mumbled a curt, “Alright, move aside.”

Tendou ushered you over to his kitchen where several of his cooking supplies laid on the island, along with a tray of some chocolate dessert spread.

“It’s all still in the testing phase, but I think I’m onto something here.”

He was definitely giving off “mad scientist” vibes. You tried not to snort.

Holding a small chocolate cake in his hand, he smiled, a genuine smile this time. "Open wide."

You obeyed, far too tired to argue, and let him pop the treat into your mouth. Tendou watched as you chewed, as if it were the most interesting thing ever. His wide gaze carefully took in every shift in your expression.

"So? Whaddya think?"

"I...," You chewed a bit more. "...It's delicious! Is that—"

"—Pistachio, why yes it is!" 

Tendou was practically bouncing on his feet with excitement. "It takes the entire thing to a whole new level."

You had to agree with him there. This was probably the best chocolate madeleine you'd ever tasted. "Great work, miracle boy. Will you be introducing this new recipe to Claude?"

Mentioning his teacher seemed to sober him up a bit. "Ehh, maybe? The old man's a bit of traditionalist, so I'll just have to figure out a way to get him to approve."

"Maybe try calling him at three in the morning?" 

Tendou stuck his tongue out at you before popping a dessert in his mouth. The pure delight on his face was so contagious, you found yourself smiling just the same. You couldn’t help but admire his passion.

“Hey, Tendou… do you like your job?”

He blinked at you, chewing coming to a slow halt. “Well of course! The pay isn’t the best just yet, but it’s a labor of love. I’m willing to put my all into it at least.”

“Huh… that’s pretty cool.” You wiped your fingers on a nearby rag. “I hope to feel the same one day… if I can figure out what I wanna do.”

“Why not bake? You’re pretty good at it.”

“Oh am I? Last week you said my baking needed some work.”

“Well, duh, but my standards when it comes to confectionaries are impossibly high. Even so, I think you’d be successful as a baker. What’s stopping you from pursuing your labor of love?”

And that was the thing with Tendou. He talked a lot, teased even more, but it was never idle ramblings. Somehow, he always seemed to hit right at the heart of the issue with almost painfully uncomfortable accuracy.

“I don’t really know so…” You looked away, trailing off.

“Either way,” he said and placed a finger under your chin, raising your head until you were looking him in the eye. “I’m rooting for you.”

For a moment, you simply stared, awestruck. It was the first time in a long while someone was actually putting their faith in you, believing in you. He had come blazing into your life unabashed with his easy grins and gaze alight with mischief. His encouraging words, sincerity, sensitivity. Tendou was really incredible.

“Tendou…” You took his hand in yours, squeezing it. “Thanks. For everything.”

“Of course, what are neighbors for.”

BONUS:

Three months later you sat curled up next to Tendou on his sofa, his entire apartment smelled of chocolate cocoa with hints of cinnamon.

Before you was an application. Culinary school.

“You really think I can do this?”

Tendou placed his head on your shoulder with a tiny smirk. “One hundred and twenty percent!”

You pondered for a moment, then decided that if he thought you were up for the challenge then you’d believe him.

“For the record, you probably aren’t supposed to recommend your girlfriend for an interview. You know, conflict of interest and all.”

Tendou laughed and pulled you closer. “Trust me, we’ll be fine, so don’t worry your pretty little head, ‘kay?”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #tendou x reader #tendou satori #satori tendou #satori tendou x reader #tendou satori x reader #sabi.writes

[obsidiancreates]

Freezer Duty (Part One)

(This was going to be a one-shot but then it reached 4,000 words so now it’s split up)

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

Amy parks her car and lays her head on the steering wheel. "You can do this. Christmas shopping is already slowing down, you can do this."

She grabs her coffee thermos, a special blend Emma came up with just for the holiday rush days (it had made Amy almost cry with thankful joy, and had made Emma shrink into her sweater and mutter "Whatever," five times straight), and gets out of her car.

The parking lot is mostly empty. Either most of her coworkers took the bus, or Amy is one of the only people on time... again. Not that she blames anyone. The weather is so cold that getting out of bed feels like a death sentence.

As she walks to the doors, she glances at the other cars. Glenn, obviously. As long as she's been working there, he's always been early. Carol, too. Probably planning to mess with Sandra somehow, this kind of stuff is why corporate shouldn't have shut down the in-store HR department. And then...

Jonah's car? He's usually at least a couple of minutes later than her... weird.

She walks past, and pauses. Why are the inside lights on? That means it's unlocked, and she knows Jonah locks his car obsessively. She once saw him lock it five times through the doors of the store. 

Curiosity claims her, and she peeks inside. 

And drops her thermos.

“Oh my go- JONAH!”

The scream is loud enough to summon Glenn. “Amy, what is- AHHHH!” he holds his hands up to his head as he shrieks.

Jonah is laying inside his car, bleeding from the neck.

Amy yanks open the car door and shakes Jonah’s shoulders. “Jonah, Jonah wake up!” As she shakes and calls out, Glenn stands behind her with his hands clasped, frantically praying to both Jesus and the Jewish God in a highly confusing yet heartfelt prayer.

“Jonah!” Amy slaps him in the face in a moment of complete desperation.

Jonah startles awake and puts his hand up to his cheek. “O-ow! What was that for! And...” he looks behind Amy. “... Why is Glenn turning purple.”

“Wh- oh, my god, Glenn, take a breath. Okay, um, Jonah, are you alright?”

“I-I think so... why?”

“Well, because you’re sitting in your turned-off unlocked car, in the middle of winter, passed out with blood on your neck.”

“WHAT?!” Jonah feels his neck. “OH- oh, god this is- this is not good, how did-”

“Our insurance is so bad,” Glenn sobs, “You’re not gonna make it!”

“Glenn, don’t- okay, let’s get you inside and- you’re not still bleeding, right?”

“I don’t think so, but what does critical blood loss feel like? Like would I be able to tell? I need to Google this, just-”

“Yeah, you’re going to be okay. Okay, into the store, Glenn help us out.”

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“Ow.” Jonah winces and flinches away as Amy dabs his neck with a wipe. 

“Pretty dramatic start to the work day, gosh. I hope nothing else happens.” Glenn shakes his hands by his sides and looks around nervously. He leans in and whispers, “Do you think they’ll find another foot? Jonah, what sneakers do you wear?”

“Again, still have both off my feet.” Jonah winces again, and Amy sets down the towel. 

“Okay, it’s all clean, so now we can-”

“Hey guys! Whoa...” Cheyenne stops in her tracks as she enters the breakroom, spreading her arms and stopping everyone else from entering too. There’s an annoyed clamoring for a minute before Garrett just rolls in under her arm. Everyone stoops down to follow, except Marcus, who tries (and fails) to turn it into a game of Limbo.

Garrett looks at the bloody wipes on the table Jonah and Amy are at. “Whoa, dude, what the hell happened?”

Amy sighs. “Jonah was-”

“We found Jonah dying in his car!” Glenn exclaims.

“Not dying!” Jonah and Amy say quickly. 

“He was passed out and bleeding a little,” Amy says to cut any rumors off preemptively, moving the collar of his shirt to get a better look at the wounds.

“In your car? In the middle of winter?”

Glenn nods, his face screwed up with worry. “And no scarf!”

“Oh, you’re for sure gonna die,” Cheyenne says, Mateo nodding in agreement. “It’s like, super cold outside.”

“Honestly I didn’t even feel that cold,” Jonah says, putting his hands up. “I guess my car stayed warm. ... Some-somehow.”

“What were you even doing in there? Are you homeless again? You could always crash at my place. Unless the birds don’t like you, then you’re gone. Nothing personal.” Dina sips her coffee.

“Thank you, for that... generous offer, um, I don’t actually remember.”

Amy pauses her checking. “You don’t?”

“No, I um, I just remember realizing I forgot something and going back into the store to get it, and then coming out and everyone was gone. And then there’s just sort of, nothing. ... That-that actually is more worrying, now that I say it aloud, am-am I dying?”

“Your brain probably froze up and is just taking time to de-thaw,” Marcus says with a flippant gesture. “Happened to my cousin once when we ate too many beer-pops.”

“... Okay, then, what’s a- no, nevermind, I can just guess. I don’t actually think that’s how brain freezes work, but thanks, I think.” 

Marcus smiles and raises his hands in an attempt at a gracious gesture.

“So you don’t remember anything?” Amy asks, bringing the subject back to the alarming and somewhat urgent situation.

“Maybe someone came up behind him and hit him over the head. Blunt force trauma, put him back in his car to make it look like he froze to death, do you know of anyone who wants to kill you? Maybe a disgruntled ex-classmate, customer you bored out of their skull with a pointless story, maybe-”

“That- no. No, I don’t think anyone wants to kill me for telling an invigorating story. And I’d rather not think about that, actually.”

Dina shrugs. “You don’t want to solve the mystery, fine. But don’t blame me when someone you screwed over in a group project cuts off your junk.”

Jonah and Amy stare at Dina for a second, and then Amy shakes her head. “Anyway... I checked, and I don’t think he has anything wrong with his head. Just his neck.”

Mateo glances over, unperturbed but curious. His expression becomes horrified. “Oh, my god! There’s two giant holes in your neck!”

Jonah slaps his hand over the wounds. “WHAT?!”

“They are not giant holes!” Amy shouts as everyone starts chattering. “They’re tiny ones! And-and they’re more like cuts, anyway!”

“Maybe someone injected him with drugs.”

“Why would they do that, Dina?”

“Yeah, who wastes drugs like that?” Cheyenne looks around at everyone else, who have gone silent. “What?”

“And, wait, with two needles?” Garrett points to Jonah’s neck. 

“Maybe they missed a vein the first time.” Dina snorts like it’s an obvious conclusion.

Marcus snaps his fingers. “Maybe it’s some kind of new fancy needle.”

Dina shakes her head. “I keep up to date on drug needle trends. We find too many in the customer bathrooms for me to be out of the loop.”

Glenn startles slightly. “We do?”

“Guys!” Amy gestures at Jonah.

Everyone murmurs some form of “Right!” or “Sorry Jonah.”

“Really, I’m-I’m fine.” Jonah keeps a hand over the holes. “It’s just a little sore, and um, I don’t know, I guess I’m a little chilly and tired, but I’m generally okay.”

“Okay, great!” Dina claps her hands. “You can have an easy assignment today because of the whole ‘attacked for revenge’ thing-”

“That’s not what-”

“Well, no-one knows what happened, so for now my theory is valid. Anyway, I’ll assign you to grocery. Slow over there today, bakery is having a big sale and uh, huh, we had an overstock of powered donuts so it might get wild.”

“Well... thank you, Dina. A slow day sounds good, actually, because I’m starting to get a headache.” Jonah rubs his eyes. “Really bright in here.”

“It’s the standard fluorescents.” Glenn looks up. “Unless corporate had it changed overnight, but I don’t think so...”

Cheyenne tilts her head with a small frown, and looks at Jonah’s neck throughout the rest of the meeting.

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“No way,” Mateo scoffs. “That’s far-fetched gossip, even for us.”

“No, but it would make sense, right?” Cheyenne looks around, and then whispers. “Didn’t notice the cold, lights too bright, two holes in his neck. Jonah totally got bitten by a vampire.” She leans back and nods, eyes wide at her own revelation.

“Vampires aren’t even real though! As much as we might wish they were.”

They glance over at Grocery. Jonah is yawning, leaning against the freezer section. 

“He looks pale, right?” Cheyenne whispers.

“He always looks pale. He could wear non-tinted sunscreen as foundation,” Mateo says with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“Yeah, I guess. ... Should we try to get a look at his eyes?”

“Chy, I love you, but we’ve got a ton of restocking to do and I don’t want to be all panicked before lunch.”

“Right. Right. Yeah. Probably just like, letting my imagination get the best of me, right? Yeah...”

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

“Excuse me?” 

Jonah startles, jumping away from the freezer door. “Hi! Yes, sorry! Um, what-what can I... help you with?”

“Could you please show me where the frozen pizzas are?”

“Sure, ma’am, right this way.” Jonah rubs his eyes, leading her to a different section of the freezer area. 

“Oh, thank you! Could you grab it for me?”

“Wh-why?”

“I don’t like the cold.”

Well, neither does he, and he’s already chilly. But this is his job. Somehow. How did he get here again? His head feel a little foggy, he can’t quite gather his thoughts. 

He reaches in and grabs the pizza. “Okay, here you-”

“No, the ones from the very back.”

“... I-I’m sorry?”

“The back ones are always better.”

“... Alright, I will... reach all the way into the back of the freezer.”

Jonah leans into the freezer, bracing himself for chills and shivers. And...

... Nothing.

It’s cold, but it’s... not bothering him that much. he leans in, grabs the pizza, and leans back out without feeling any more cold than he did prior to the task.

“Thank you, young man. You should grab yourself one too, it’ll put some color into those cheeks.”

The old woman walks away, and Jonah pulls out his phone to look up symptoms of frostbite and hypothermia.

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

Justine shakes her head. “I’ve read Twilight a million times, if he was a vampire I would be able to tell.”

“What if we give him some garlic bread, and tell him it’s normal bread?” Sandra suggests.

“Because if he’s just allergic to garlic, we won’t know the difference. Doy.” Marcus scoff-laughs at Sandra and points at her mockingly with his thumb.

“What are you guys talking about?” Garrett asks, rolling up to the group. “Marcus, aren’t you supposed to be unloading a truck right now?”

“Eh, didn’t feel like it. Anyway, we’re trying to figure out if Jonah is a vampire now.”

“Are you serious?”

They all nod. Garrett grins. He folds his hands in his lap. “So what have you tried so far?”

“Nothing yet,” Justine admits.

“We might give him garlic bread,” Sandra says with a shrug. “Is he allergic to garlic?”

“No.”

Sandra lights up. “So it would work!” Her smiles fades. “Oh. But then it might kill him.”

“We can’t do that! The Horsemen stick together, I could never hurt my best friend.” Marcus shakes his head. “What if we just drop something really heavy on him and see if he catches it?”

“That won’t hurt him?” Garrett checks.

“Not if he’s a vampire.”

“Right, right. How about instead of splattering him across the Wheaties boxes, you just ask Glenn to go pester him with Bible stuff?” Garrett would love to see that, Jonah gets to flustered over trying not to offend while trying to get away. It’s hilarious.

Marcus points at Garrett with a smile. “That- yes! Perfect! Thanks man!”

The small group runs off, and Garrett laughs a little to himself as he heads on back to customer service.

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“Oh, this one is one of my favorite verses, so here we go, ahem-”

“Hey, Glenn? Isn’t there a-a rule, against doing this kind of thing at work?”

“Well... technically... but Marcus told me you wanted to know my favorite parts of the Bible, so I just sort of thought why wait.”

“He- really? Because I’m not... known, for being very curious about... the Bible...”

“But you are known for being curious about your friends,” Glenn says with a point and a smile.

Jonah plasters on a smile himself. “Yeah. Yeah, I do tend to-”

“Get a little nosy.”

“... I was going to say get involved, but... I-I guess nosy works too. But um, I’m restocking the ice cream right now, so kind of have to act fast,” Jonah motions at the freezeer.

“Oh, then I’ll make this quick! Okay, this verse says-”

Jonah sighs, rubbing his head. His headache is just getting worse and worse. He’s pretty sure it’s the lights, or maybe the dry-cold freezer air, but Glenn’s babbling is not helping. 

And his voice is really grating right now. It’s not exactly soothing at even the best of times, but Jonah is pretty sure he’d rather listen to nails on a chalkboard than another round of ‘Top Bible Verses’ from Glenn.

“Okay!” he snaps. “That’s good, that is- that is very much enough! Thank you for sharing something you enjoy with me, now please let me do my job!”

Glenn startles, and then hugs his Bible to his chest. “Fine. Then I guess you don’t get to hear me sing the top five best Psalms. Which is too bad for you, because Jerusha says I do them well enough to be on radio.”

Glenn walks away, and Jonah sighs. He hadn’t meant to snap, it was just really getting on his nerves. ... At least his headache is a little better already without the extra noise.

He watches Glenn walk away, and then catches sight of Justine and Sandra quickly ducking behind another isle. He looks on in confusion for a moment more, and then gets back to work.

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“Okay, we need a real plan,” Justine sighs. 

“For what?” Dina pauses on her way to the coffee pot. “More raccoons? Did they find a snake in the bananas again?”

“We think Jonah night be a vampire,” Sandra says.

Cheyenne stops eating her lunch. “Oh my god, you told them?”

“I couldn’t think of anything else to say!” Mateo defends. “It’s been a boring day! Other than, you know, Jonah almost dying.”

“Wait, you guys think Jonah is a vampire? No way, have you seen him? That’d be too cliche.” Dina scoffs at the idea. And then looks at the ground, a thoughtful frown appearing on her face. “Although the cliche would also mean it makes sense...”

Garrett eats a chip. “Come on, he’d be a terrible vampire. Vampires are supposed to be confidant and suave. Jonah can’t even explain his cookie choices without a five-minute tirade.”

“And he’d cut himself off at least six times in those five minute,” Dina says with a slight wince. “Yeah, he’d be a terrible vampire.”

“I don’t know. Sometimes he’s really confident, and he does that smirk thing?” Sandra says, gesturing to her own mouth for emphasis. “Plus, he always stands like a politician.”

“And he puts way too much product in his hair! That’s a total vampire thing,” Cheyenne says with a definitive shrug.

“He does already have that black-hair-pale-skin thing going for him...” Mateo admits. “If he could be a villain on CW he could be a vampire.”

“And how would he drink blood?” Garrett asks. “Just talk until the person passes out? Ask overly politely in a way that really sounds like he’s trying to ask for sex?”

Everyone murmurs in agreement.

“He would starve,” Cheyenne declares. “Because he’d be picky, too, right?”

“Picky like, about the person’s health?” Mateo asks with a doubtful frown. “He’d probably freak out about not wanting to discriminate though.”

“That would be the starvation,” Dina says with a nod. “He’d be too worried about the socio-political crap of whoever he picks so he’d just debate himself until it was too late.”

“... That’d be kind of funny,” Mateo says quietly.

Everyone thinks for a moment, and then agrees.

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

“Hey, Jonah.” Dina snaps her fingers in front of Jonah’s face, jarring him out of his standing sleep. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Sorry, Dina.” Jonah rubs his face. “I feel exhausted.”

“It’s the middle of the day.”

“Yeah! Yeah, I know. Um, what did you need?”

“I need you to go help Brett move some of the exercise equipment, the dolly broke.”

“Wh- so-so we have to move it by hand?”

“You’ve got a little muscle on your noodle arms, you can handle it.” Dina slaps him on the back and walks away. Jonah huffs, hands on his hips. After a moment he shakes his head and moves over to exercise.

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

“Okay, now we find out for sure,” Dina says smugly. “No way a Human Jonah could handle the weight of that stuff.”

Everyone is crammed into the surveillance office, watching Jonah on the monitors.

“Should one of us tell Amy about this?” Cheyenne asks. “I feel like we’re leaving her out.”

“It is weird that I’m in on this and not her,” Marcus agrees. “But she’d probably tell us this is ‘dangerous’ or something.”

“She wouldn’t like it at all,” Dina confirms. “Best to just tell her about it later, or let her find out on her own. Later.”

They watch Jonah and Brett work together surprisingly smoothly, moving the heavy equipment with a perfectly human amount of struggling. Dina leans back in her chair with a disappointed sigh. “Dammit. I almost let myself believe in magic...”

“Wait, look!” Cheyenne points to the monitor. 

Everyone looks, excited and hopeful. And they collectively sigh and grumble.

“He’s just talking to a customer,” Mateo says.

“A super rude one! I’ve dealt with him before, he’s a total asshole. Let’s turn on the audio and listen to Jonah freak out.”

“I do love a good Jonah freakout.” Dina turns on the audio.

“Yeah, I-I’m sorry, sir, we just don’t carry that here anymore.”

“This store has carried it for over ten years.”

“Yeah, it’s a bummer! I know I hate when store stop carrying stuff I like. But maybe! Maybe we can view this as a-a chance for personal growth, for you! A chance at... at evolution, at moving forward-”

“Are you mocking me, little bitch boy?”

Everyone gasps. “Oh no he didn’t,” Cheyenne whispers. On the camera, Jonah is clearly taken aback, leaning away from the customer and staring with wide eyes.

“Some... very strong language, sir. Um, no, I just meant that maybe, you know, instead of-of viewing this in the negative-”

“So I’m a negative person?”

“No! No, I can’t- I don’t know you! I can’t make judgements about people that fast! Just- I hope this doesn’t ruin your day, right? And-and I want to see if we can find you a-a replacement, so that you can still have what you want!”

“How important do you think this is to me? You think I’m pathetic? Can’t be happy without my specific little brand?”

“No, I just-”

“I’m gonna need to speak with your bitch of a floor manager or whatever she’s called.”

“... I’m sorry?”

“Your bitch of a floor manager. The loud Latina lady.”

Dina stands up, ready to go beat the man with a bat for talking about her best friend that way. Cheyenne pushes her back down, jaw dropped. “I think Jonah is about to stand up to him,” she says.

Jonah is indeed, looking quite pissed off. He steps closer, and looks the much taller man right in the eyes. Jonah’s a good head shorter, his hair barely coming up to the other man’s chin, yet for some reason unknown the black-and-white monitor shows the customer being the one who leans back.

“You, sir, are a very unpleasant person,” Jonah says in a calm, measured voice. “And I think you need to do some self-reflection. I think you should leave the store, and learn how to talk about people without using the word ‘bitch’, alright?”

It’s so overly polite it’s almost comical. Yet somehow... it works.

The customer stands there for a second, then just... walks away. Jonah watches after him, the calm and collection expression on his face quickly giving way to confusion. He looks around as though wondering if someone else had done something to scare the customer off.

“Confidence boost,” Sandra says softly.

Cheyenne pulls out a notebook and ticks something off. “That counts as evidence.”

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

Jonah has no clue what just happened.

One moment he was speaking with a rude customer, the next the customer was walking away and Jonah has no clue why. What he does know was that his headache was slightly better, and that he really wishes his lunch break was sooner because he is famished.

Someone taps him on the shoulder, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. He turns around to see Amy looking at him with slight concern. “You okay? You’re just sort of... staring off into space.”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Uh... yeah, I’m fine. Totally fine.”

“... I don’t believe you.”

“Well, then you... have trust issues, because I am. I’m fine.”

“... Sure... can I see your neck again, real quick?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re acting weird and I want to make sure you’re not developing an infection that’s getting to your brain?”

“... Yeah, check away.”

Amy checks, and winces. “Youch. Yeah, let’s get some more antibiotics on those.” She starts leading him towards the breakroom. “So, what happened with that customer? I came over right at the tail end, missed the whole thing.”

“Oh. Um... I guess I just, really got through to him.”

“You?”

“Yes, me, why- what is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing! It’s just, usually when you try to calm down a customer you don’t get very far.”

“Well, you know, sometimes people just listen if you hit the right cords-”

“Mmm-hmm, yeah.”

“-I guess I just found the right words to resonate with him, is all I’m saying.” If only he knew what those words were...

Creak

Jonah pauses. “Did-did you just hear that?”

“Hear what?”

Creaaak

Jonah looks up. “I think the ceiling is about to collapse.”

“Why?”

CREAAAAK!

A mass of merch falls from the ceiling! Amy and Jonah both scream, brace themselves, Amy still holding onto Jonah and Jonah still holding onto Amy-!

...

And... they’re a safe distance from it all as it crashes down.

A multitude of raccoons scamper out and scatter, their Nest Of Stolen Goods now revealed. Jonah and Amy watch from the sidelines.

The sidelines!

“How did we get over here?” Amy is staring at the pile.

“... I don’t know,” Jonah replies, staring as well. Oh, what an adrenaline rush, his heart is racing- ... it... should... be racing...

Amy’s hand is still around Jonah’s wrist. She looks at him for a moment, and then shakes off the shock. “Okay, um, let’s get a team to clean this up, and get some antibiotic on your neck.”

“Will that part take a whole team, too?”

“Ha-ha, Jonah. ... I’m just glad neither of us got hurt.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

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

“OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!” Cheyenne grabs Mateo and starts shaking him. “DID YOU SEE WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!”

“WE ALL SAW!” Mateo shouts, pushing Cheyenne away. He huffs and brushes off his sweater. “All three of us left, anyway.”

Dina taps the monitor. “That’s why you never leave the surveillance room after something mildly interesting happens! Something big always follows!”

“He’s actually a vampire,” Mateo says in disbelief. “He vampire-ran away from that junk, he’s actually a vampire!”

Dina scoff-laughs. “The little guy pulled off one hell of a ruse, huh? Pretty clever, faking amnesia.”

Cheyenne stops her mini victory celebration. “Whoa, why do you think he’s faking?” 

“Because why wouldn’t I? He’s a vampire now, even if he actually doesn’t remember what happened it’s got to be pretty obvious to him that he’s undead. ... Right?”

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

“What’re you googling?” Amy dabs at the neck wounds gently with a damp cloth as she prepares to put on the antibiotic cream.

“Symptoms of frostbite and hypothermia. I guess everyone got into my head this morning, and I’ve had some weird stuff happen to me...”

“Well... anything about last night coming back? Could help you figure out whatever symptoms you’ve got.”

“Still nothing.” Jonah rubs his neck when Amy is done dabbing it with the cloth. “I still feel like the day just started, honestly.”

“Oh yeah,” Amy agrees. “Today’s going to be a long day.”

#Superstore #superstore jonah #superstore amy #superstore nbc #superstore tv #jonah simms #Amy Sosa #Dina Fox #garrett mcneil #glenn sturgis #sandra kaluiokalani #vampire #vampires #Vampire!Jonah AU #blood tw #death mention #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

[matchasprouts]

Listen Closer - Chapter 4

[ girl help i can't stop writing this ]

First || Next || Previous || Last

He woke up to someone pounding on the door, which only successfully left a pounding in his head, therefore setting him up to be a little bitch for the rest of the day.

Since he was off on weekends, he usually spent them working on traps, or helping facilitate traps for John. Today was Sunday, which meant he needed to spend the whole day working on the furnace, or it wouldn’t be finished in time, which is probably why someone was banging on his door.

That realization didn’t make him any less pissed.

After a moment of fumbling around blindly without opening his eyes, he grabbed something solid and flung it vaguely at the door. He heard it hit the metal door with a thunk, followed by someone cursing in surprise. Amanda. Of course.

“Sorry ‘Manda!” he tiredly yelled at the door, having expected it to be John or Hoffman. Amanda never woke him up because she never had the courage to- not that he would scare her on purpose.

“I’m gonna get you back one day,” Amanda replied, giving the door one last bang before retreating back to her work.

It took a good few minutes, but Garrett finally rolled directly out of bed, hitting the concrete floor with a groan. After yet another few minutes, he properly got up, finally taking that shower he didn’t have the energy for last night before getting dressed.

Logically he should wear things that would be good to weld in but he was gay, and dressed like it. So he simply pulled up the sleeves on his cropped sweater and prayed to whatever god that would listen that his exposed midriff would not get burned.

He emerged from his room only to retrieve his goggles- which he hadn’t meant to leave out on one of the public tables- before retreating back to his personal workshop.

The furnace was so close to done, really just needing some closed up gaps and other various touch ups, plus he needed to make sure the trigger for the flames worked. He could finish that in a day if he started early enough, so he dove into it.

A few times he could hear the door open and close, either Amanda or Nar coming in to make sure he wasn’t secretly dead or injured. Occasionally they brought him a glass of water too, or tried to have a conversation. They only sometimes got a response.

“How long have you been working?” Narcissus asked, setting a new glass of water on the desk next to where Garrett was sitting. “Have you taken a break in the last hour? You know you can’t work non-stop without a break.”

Garrett knew he wasn’t just going to leave without getting a response this time, so he leaned back from his work and pulled his goggles down so they hung around his neck. “I need to get this done,” he said, gesturing to the furnace, “the game is starting next week. This is like, a huge part. Everyone’s counting on me.”

“Please get therapy for that,” Nar replied, surprising Garrett enough that he let out a sharp laugh, quickly turning away to hide his grin. “Don’t launch into a spiel about how this IS therapy, I get enough of that from Amanda. But seriously, you need to take breaks. If you work yourself to death, you won’t be of use to anybody, least of all John.”

He, unfortunately, had a point. Garrett didn’t like accepting defeat, but he could at least get something to eat. “Alright, fine, but if this is some kind of ploy to get me to interact with people, I’ll lose it.”

Nar chuckled at that, patting Garrett on the shoulder as he headed over to the door. With a sigh, Garrett stood up and followed, making a beeline for where they kept snacks for while they were working. Now that he realized he hadn’t eaten all day, he felt like he was dying.

“So he lives,” Hoffman spoke up, scaring the shit out of Garrett, who hadn’t seen him in his rush to get something to eat. “We were beginning to worry you had gotten hurt in there and were just too prideful to ask for help.”

“I think out of everyone here, I’m the least likely to just die for the sake of my ego,” Garrett retorted, grabbing a mysterious muffin he didn’t know the origin of to be his very late breakfast. Or would it be lunch at this point?

He took a bite into the muffin, letting out a sigh of relief when he didn’t die instantly.

Amanda was known for baking stuff for the apprentices, but she wasn’t very good at it if it wasn’t strawberry shortcake specifically or donuts. Since the muffin wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever bitten into, his second guess was that Nar baked them instead. He tended to be able to bake without accidentally introducing poison to the ingredients list.

“Don’t you have a real job to be at?” Garrett asked, leaning back against the table Hoffman was seated in front of, standing next to him, like an idiot. “You know, pretending to be on the good guy’s side, throwin’ off the trail…”

Hoffman just looked at him like he was insane. “You do realize that detectives don’t spend most of their time in the precinct, right? No one is going to question why I’m not there. They’ll just call me in if they need me.”

Can’t imagine having a job like that. “Right, right. Have y’all ‘found’ Cara’s body yet? I wanna watch when you do.” Through the cameras, of course. Garrett found it amusing to be right next to a police investigation and, since he covered the ‘on’ light on cameras he used, they never knew he was there.

“What?” Hoffman asked after a moment of bewildered silence, and Garrett vaguely recognized what he said was weird but simply stared back at the detective.

“I said I want to watch. It’s fun watching cops scramble around for an answer, like they did when they discovered my game. One of them threw up when they realized it was teeth marks in that bastard’s throat. So, let me know when you ‘find’ the body.”

Garrett looked away, returning to his muffin, leaving Hoffman to process the fact that he DESPERATELY needed real therapy.

He went to continue the conversation, maybe to learn WHY Garrett was so weird about watching the investigation, but his phone cut him off. “Hoffman,” he greeted when he answered, immediately catching Garrett’s attention. “Right,” he continued after a moment, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pulled out a notepad and a pen.

After a few “uh-huh”s and “got it”s, Hoffman had an address scribbled down- one Garrett immediately recognized as where his game had taken place. “Speak of the devil…” he muttered, gaining a somewhat concerned look from the detective.

“I’ll be there soon,” Hoffman said into the phone, grabbing it from his shoulder and flipping it shut. “I assume I’ll be meeting you there,” he told Garrett, before standing up and heading out. Garrett watched him leave, just like he did last night, except this time he wasn’t out of the door before Garrett was following.

---

Garrett actually ended up getting a ride from Hoffman, which was undoubtedly awkward.

They hadn’t been in this confined of a space together yet, and Garrett was making it a point to not look at Hoffman, which in turn just made Hoffman nervous because usually that means someone is about to lash out.

It was not a pleasant trip.

Garrett practically lunged out of the car when they arrived, moving much faster than Hoffman thought he could in order to avoid detection by the police. The last thing he saw was Hoffman getting out to greet another cop before he was sneaking into the building through one of the windows.

The building had two floors- the room he used for the game was on the bottom floor, and the room he had the monitoring equipment set up in was on the top floor. The building was easy to scale, which is why Garrett had no problem getting up there. He wasn’t worried about being found either, because he blocked off the door to the room when he left after the game.

He would take every possible precaution under the sun not to be found if it meant he got to watch the chaos he created unfold.

Garrett dropped to the floor from the window as quietly as possible, avoiding any chance of the floor creaking as he made his way over to the single monitor set up for the game. He clicked it on, and settled down in the chair in front of it.

The camera came to life almost immediately, and he grinned at the sight of the crime scene.

They’d moved Cara out of the iron maiden, which was a little disappointing but understandable, since they needed to inspect her body.

He couldn’t hear what they were saying, having turned off the sound just to be safe. If he knew any more about this investigation than what he could see and slipped up… he just knew he couldn’t let that happen.

So he settled for silence, instead reading their lips as best as he could.

At some point, they’d closed the box, though he wasn’t sure why. Did they put the key back in there? Were they using it to store the tape recorder, which was nowhere to be found despite Garrett leaving it right where Cara had dropped it?

It was odd, and Garrett didn’t like not knowing why they had done it. He would ask Hoffman later.

Speaking of the detective, Hoffman looked very… in his element here, in the middle of a crime scene. He looked confident and sure of himself, which Garrett didn’t see much back at the Jigsaw base. Maybe it was because they didn’t talk often, or Hoffman just still wasn’t sure about this whole apprentice thing. Either way, he was very attractive when he knew what he was doing.

Garrett also noted that Hoffman didn’t struggle even a little bit to pretend he had no idea who had done this, or deciding he simply didn’t see the difference between a normal Jigsaw game and this one. Part of him wondered if he was playing along because he knew Garrett was watching, but a larger part of him appreciated that he was such a good actor.

John had told him about Hoffman’s copycat killing- the pendulum trap built for his sister’s killer- so he wasn’t totally surprised that this came naturally to him. Still, it was nice to know he wasn’t going to slip up and get them all caught.

They were looking at the iron maiden now, and Garrett tensed up without noticing it. He didn’t want to leave it behind when the game was over, but he had to, so the body could be found the exact way she died. And he’d worn gloves while setting it up and building, but seeing people inspecting it made him nervous, and he started fidgeting.

It started with just a bounce of his leg, but the longer they looked, the more nervous he got. By the time they finally moved away, he had bitten hard enough into his hand to draw blood.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself, running his tongue over the wound so the blood didn’t start dripping. They were wrapping up the investigation now, since he hadn’t really left many clues for them- they already had Detective Hoffman and Detective Mathers was already warned about his upcoming game.

He watched them leave the room and shut off the camera once it was empty, listening through the window for the retreat of the cars. When he was sure no one was left, he climbed out the window and back down the building.

Admittedly, he was a little surprised to find Hoffman still there, leaning against the side of the car and waiting for him. It made him smile, and he realized that being grateful for small shit like this wasn’t helping his case to not get attached.

“Better drive fast, detective, I’ve got a furnace to finish.”

#story tag: listen closer #self ship fic #self shipping #self insert #scrap.writing #scrap.ships #romantic: ⛓🕵️‍♂️ #s/i: garrett whitlock #mark hoffman #romantic: 🦿🩺 #(poly) romantic: ⛓🩺 #lawrence gordon #chapter 4

[rewordthis]

The erroneous impression of a resplendent fractioned Proteus

Future fish AU but slightly altered

1653 words

Yamazaki Sousuke, Matsuoka Rin, Tatchibana Makoto, Hazuki Nagisa +

SouHaru

SFW

Intro | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

July had started in a frenzy. The heat was terrible and even though Sousuke's business was slowly picking up, the pace was probably a little more than what he'd like to put up with for the time being.

Sousuke was running a fishing and diving store in the town of Iwatobi. Actually, the only store to be exact.

He was merchandising nets and small parts for fishing boats, paints for the ships and was also giving diving lessons to anyone who wanted to learn or provided sea tours for the few tourists who ended up in these somewhat far shores of japan. Most of those tourists, were actually coming here after listening about the disasters of the previous year and falling in love with the amazing seascape from the pictures that were projected through the news. Their numbers increasing exponentially as of late.

Generally, if it had to do with Iwatobis’ waters and ocean bed and the old lores surrounding it, or there was a need for a guide to tour the arrestingly beautiful but dangerous rocky scenery, Yamazaki Sousuke was your man. This was common knowledge around these parts.

And so, he desperately needed another pair of hands around; someone he could trust with the costumers. And preferably, someone that wouldn't burn down the place in one go.

Thankfully, he still had some free time during lunch and so he could catch a breath over small talk with a friend every now and then. Currently this was one of these moments, said friend being Rin that had graciously brought donuts to go with the coffee Sousuke usually offers.

"You know just the day before yesterday that weird guy, that works at the laboratory– the one just down the road—" Sousuke motioned, picking up a delicacy with green tea-frosting on.

"Oh! You mean Rei!" Rin exclaimed.

"Yeah, that guy— so, he comes here, ok; and I'm thinking 'alright, maybe he needs something from the store for those weird experiments he's conducting from time to time. No big deal.' And the man just straight out asks the most bizarre question ever." He says in between bites.

"Ever; like what? Your horoscope?" Rin laughs.

"That's not weird man— actually, Hazuki asked me that a while back." Sousuke retorted with a straight face.

But Rin almost choke on his coffee; spraying most of it over Sousuke and the donut he was eating.

No. That wasn't out of character at all, he thought while coughing, still out of breath. It was so ironic that it was very much possible.

Sousuke wiped down his face with his hand and threw the donut to the trash can next to him. Then, pulling out a paper tissue from a nearby box, he wiped his hands and said: "Thanks; coffee bath was what I needed."

"Well, sorry but that was really unexpected. Don't just go on and say stuff like that with this face. I almost choked here! Jeez—" Rin said around an indignant huff.

Sousuke regarded him unamused for a bit and continued; "Well, anyway— so, he comes in and asks me right out of the blue, whether I'm familiar with someone."

"What; just like that? That is odd." Rin bugged his eyes out and put a finger under his lips in a show of exaggerated bafflement.

"Yeah, thanks! So he comes here and asks me if I knew Nanase Haruka; I mean what the— what?" He asks, pausing midway his narration after noticing the others’ expression.

Rin has a scowl on his face and the look in his eyes is full of plain disapproval.

"What!" Sousuke asks again, impatiently.

"… I can't believe you, man." Rin says, "You knew Haru, didn't you? He was the chef at that pastry store that—"

"Yeah, I know who he is. So what? What does that have anything to do with asking me, though?" Sousuke cut him off, "I don't get it, Rin!"

Rin stared at him for a few good seconds, measuring him. He finally said: "Sousuke, have you forgotten about Haru? It's only natural that he'd ask about him…"

Sousuke looked at Rin; he seemed genuinely confused. "Why?" He said.

Rin fixed a disbelieving stare at him, before he answered: "You do remember that the memorial of the 'great disaster', was just this week, right?"

"Yeah. So?" He retorted. Still looking clueless.

"So the one third of the towns' men were killed that day!" Rin replied; angry.

Sousuke kept looking at him like an idiot, unable to connect the dots.

So Rin had to spell it out for him, huh?

"Haru went missing that day, too!" Rin yelled at him.

Sousukes' eyes flickered wildly. "Now, hold on!' He said throwing his arms open, "We don't know that for sure. Besides, every single one of the missing were fishermen. He simply doesn't add up, Rin. Plus— We found all the others bodies, but we never found his!"

Rin narrowed his eyes but he was composed and his voice level, as he said: "No. You never found him."

An open accusation—

"What— what's that supposed to mean? Are you implying that I screwed up in the search? Because I wasn't looking alone—" The towering man tried to defend himself; index finger tapping down on the worn, narrow desk as if to point out something there but...

The redhead cut him off with: "Never said that; but you were the only one that searched the caves and the water. No one else had a boat that worked at that time…"

"Now wait a second! I looked up everywhere! I treated them all equally! I even went the extra mile and dove to the caves to search for him as you had suggested, Rin!" Sousuke exclaimed, irritated – something that didn’t happen too often.

"That's because he wasn't in the town for at least a couple hours before the storm and Makoto said he was going to the caves from time to time to calm down or whatever…" He explained calmly, bowing his head.

Sousuke furrowed his brows at his friend. Looking at Rin like that, he felt cornered. Both guilty and betrayed. And right out powerless. "So you send me out there based on what Tachibana told you? Then it's even more possible that he just up and left. He did appeared out of nowhere in this town after all. He could have just leave—"

"You were also out of town…" Rin’s firm voice echoed sharp throughout the small back-office.

These words rang as clear and heavy as the howling sirens of the towns’ port in Sousuke's’ mind —

"What?" He manage, his lips taut in a grim line.

"When we got the report at the station, about fifteen minutes before the storm; I came here to ask you to prepare a rescue boat. You weren't here; the shop was closed and the only one to have seen you was Mizumi as you left it, approximately two hours prior to the event— just at the time that Haru was last seen. I'm not implying anything but… where have you been those two hours, Sousuke?" Rin slowly looked up again; piercing empty and far away teal eyes with his own unwavering ones – that spoke volumes of his concerns for his friend but also how full of determination he truly was – in an attempt to salvage the whole truth.

"Heh— 'you're not implying anything'. Is that so?" He scoffed bitterly.

–––––

At that moment in the fire station at the outskirts of the small fish town.

"Ne, ne, Mako-chan, will you come with me and Rei-chan to the beach this afternoon?" A gleeful voice bubbled in the air in the kitchen of the station.

"Eh? Ah— I'm sorry but there are some things I have to take care of today. Maybe tomorrow?" Makoto said sweetly with a smile, closing the fridge; a carton of milk in his hand.

"Eeeh~ all you say these days is that you have things to take care of, Mako-chaaan. You promised that we'd go swimming when the weather got better and the weather is supper these days but you're still saying 'no'! Are you avoiding me? Ah! Could it be you're avoiding Rei-chan?! If so then that's not a good thing to—" The energetic blonde was furrowing and puffing his cheeks at him, but—

"N–no! I'm not avoiding either one of you! I just had something that came up this week and I can't go right now, ok? Nagisa?" He said and his voice sweetened just a bit.

Still, Nagisa was too perceptive for Makoto's good.

He tilted his head as he looked at him with a quizzical stare. He said: "You know Mako-chan, lately you seem very happy for some reason… Ah! I know! Mako-chan, you got a girlfriend!" He beamed; a gleam of triumph sparkling in his eyes.

He was so loud, that all the firemen in this room turned to look at them with awe and those in the next came running in, not knowing what had happened.

"No! Shh—" Makoto attempt, blushing furiously; ready to explode.

'Mako-chan… he was hiding something though. For days now!' Nagisa thought, looking up at his relaxed disposition. Something that made this whole ordeal worth it. Something that made him, happy.

"Say, Mako-chan— if it's not a girlfriend, then why are you so happy these past few days?" Nagisa asked him quietly.

Maybe it was the way he said it, because Makoto froze. He turned surprised to face Nagisa and after a long moment, his face morphed again, a small but gentle smile curving the line of his lips. "Actually," he started, "I found something I thought I had lost forever…" He said and his eyes moved with overwhelming emotion.

"Eh? Found— something lost?" Nagisa repeated questioningly, eyes wide in wonder.

"Hm," Makoto nodded. "You see— I found it on Monday, as I got home from work…"

---------

A.N.: Possible triggers and warnings will be addressed on a chapter by chapter basis. I hope you’ll stick with this story regardless, though.

#souharu #sousuke yamazaki #yamazaki sousuke #nanase haruka #haruka nanase #Fic #free! series #My writing #fanfic #Free! #1653 words #sfw

[hazelcmist]

A Cure for Christmas

Summary: Two Brits grounded and stranded in the middle of Nowhere, North Carolina during a ‘blizzard’ and there’s only one loaf of bread, one carton of milk and one hotel room left to share. Whatever will they do?

Pairing: Ten x Rose

31 days of Ficmas: Snowed In

@doctorroseprompts

The disastrous day began in the Heathrow airport. Normally, John Smith – the Doctor to his friends and colleagues – enjoyed traveling and took all the delays in stride, but Gallifrey Inc. was threatening to pull the plug on his latest vaccine that could improve and save the lives of millions world-wide. The vaccine had spent the last six months in the development stages, but the new CEO of Saxon Inc. had abruptly cut 75% of their funding. The stocks of Gallifrey Inc. had plummeted and the Doctor and Gallifrey Inc. were floundering. The start-up company had invested everything into the Doctor’s latest vaccine, but if they couldn’t find an immediate investor, Gallifrey Inc. would be bankrupt by the end of the year and the much-needed vaccine would never be completed.

Any hopes of salvaging his career, completing the vaccine, and rescuing the company that had taken him in like a family from financial ruin was now pinned on one company that had shown some recent interest in the vaccine.

Vitex.

Vitex’s CEO was currently at their American headquarters in Los Angeles. Donna Noble generally handled this sort of thing, but Pete Tyler had requested to meet the Doctor himself, and Donna had Bronchitis. The Doctor loved traveling, but he was anxious about the meeting and he was already running behind schedule.

Thanks to Donna’s brilliance, the Doctor had managed to get on one of the few direct flights to LAX, but the departure kept getting pushed back. By the time the pretty blonde fetched up against the bar and rammed her valise into his kneecap, the Doctor had been waiting for three hours and was two banana daiquiris deep at the airport bar.

“Oi! Mind the knees!” 

She whipped around and the Doctor’s breath caught in his throat. 

“Sorry,” she said with a dazzling apologetic smile. “Lost my balance. Think I broke one of my heels running through the airport,” she confessed with a wince.

“Let me take a look,” he offered before he could stop himself.

The Doctor was usually quite good with fixing things, but unfortunately this innate ability did not extend to women’s footwear.

Twenty minutes later, she was barefoot and sharing a stool with him at the packed bar, and they had yet another round of banana daiquiris in front of them.

“’s not your fault,” she assured him, patting his leg. The Doctor tried to disguise the shiver that went through him at her touch.

“I broke your other heel too,” he lamented. 

“’s okay,” she said, squeezing his knee, “I hate high heels, can’t run in them.”

The Doctor gazed out at the crowd passing in and out of the duty-free shop across the way and a brilliant idea occurred to him.

“Wait here,” he instructed her.

He was back in a jiffy with a newly purchased pair of Chucks for her. They even matched her red blouse. She laughed when he made sure to point this out to her and launched into a lecture on the merits of proper footwear and little shops in airports. The Doctor wished he could’ve recorded that laugh and could’ve bottled the feeling that it evoked inside of him.

Suddenly, the crew announced that they were preparing for boarding.

“Sorry, I’ve got to run for my life,” he said, throwing some money down on the bar to cover both drinks. 

It didn’t occur to him until he was seated at the back of the plane with his nose in a book and a warm tingly feeling resonating in his chest that he’d felt so comfortable with her, and yet he hadn’t even learned her name.

* 

The flight was a nightmare. Rose loved travelling and was looking forward to seeing her father and finally getting a tour of Los Angeles and the new Vitex Headquarters, but the flight had been turbulent and in spite of everything Rose had tried to do to help, her seatmate had gotten violently ill. She hadn’t been the only one. The plane was forced to make an emergency landing because of the inclement weather and one of the flight attendants suddenly taking ill as well. Rose was seated in first class and was therefore one of the first to exit the plane, only after another flight attendant assured her that the other woman would be fine and was being seen to by a doctor.

Rose didn’t know where they ended up, but it became immediately clear judging from the empty terminal, that this place was a far cry from Heathrow. All of the gates were empty, save for a few sparrows that were hopping from seat to seat, eagerly looking for crumbs. 

“Where are we?” Rose wondered aloud.

“No idea,” a voice said cheerfully and Rose turned to find the bloke from the airport bar beaming at her. “Hello again,” he greeted her, wiggling his fingers.

“Hello,” Rose echoed, smiling widely. He had some great hair, some really great hair. She honestly wasn’t sure how long they stood there staring at each other as the rest of the passengers flowed around them and ran for the baggage claim and the customer service desk.

“Nice Chucks,” he complimented her with a wink.  

“Thanks,” she said with a touch-touched grin that caused him to sway toward her as if she was magnetic. “’m Rose,” she introduced herself. 

“I’m the Doctor,” he said, taking her hand. The way his fingers curled around hers, felt right, so right that she was reluctant to let go.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. 

“Starved,” Rose admitted. “I want chips.” 

“Allonsy,” he said, leading the way. “Let’s go find a chippie.” 

*

It quickly became clear that they were not in London anymore.

“Closed?” The Doctor sputtered for the fourth time in the last ten minutes. “What do you mean you’re closed?”

“It’s gonna snow,” the manager of the fourth and final place to eat explained with a shrug. “The whole airport’s shutting down. 

“But what about our flight?”

The manager shrugged again.

“It’ll be rescheduled,” he grunted, “Maybe in a few days?”

“A few days?” The Doctor’s jaw dropped, but the manager was already pushing past him with his staff eagerly following him out of the terminal.

Rose and the Doctor discovered that while they’d wasted their time tracking down all four of the places that served food, their fellow passengers had been discussing and making rearrangements. By the time they got to the last couple of harried airport employees, there wasn’t much left.

“We don’t know when the next flight out will be,” the kindly representative, Lynda explained to them and one other passenger in a ballcap. “They’re saying we could get six inches of snow.”

“Six? That’s it?” barked the passenger with a nasally accent next to them, “Where I come from, that’s nothing. Let me tell you about the blizzard of ’78. I had to dig myself out of a snow drift eight feet high and walk all the way to the packie for a six-pack of beer-”

“We only have five snow plows for the entire state and one of them got hit by a truck yesterday,” Lynda interrupted him. “But they salted the roads two days ago, so hopefully we’ll be up and running by Wednesday.”

“Two days ago!” the passenger barked. “What the fuck is that supposed to do? Do you guys even know how to de-ice a plane? Does anyone here even own an ice scraper? Or a shovel?”

“If the snow sticks and we get as much as they’re predicting,” Lynda explained to a very confused Rose and the Doctor, “The whole state will shut down for the next forty-eight hours, possibly longer depending on how quickly it melts. I’m sorry. I can put you up in a room in the hotel across the road, courtesy of British Airways, but I’ve only got one room left.”

Rose and the Doctor were too stunned to disagree. With a few clicks the agent had arranged for them to share a room for a night, possibly two, depending on the weather. 

“There’s a convenience store right outside the hotel,” she informed them, “I’d recommend stocking up on supplies before we get snowed in and they close.”

“Where’s the nearest Dunkin’ Donuts? What about Market Basket?” the other man was demanding as Rose and the Doctor gathered up their baggage and hurried out before the shop closed.

Luckily the hotel was in walking distance, but the shop was attached to a petrol station. Rose and the Doctor were shocked by the amount of cars lined up for petrol and the amount of people who left their cars running to do their shopping. The shop was small, but what little they had was swept up into the arms of anxious, fearful people prepared to weather an apocalypse. Surely, Rose and the Doctor must’ve heard the weather reports wrong, because the shelves were practically bare. One of the clerks told them that a fist fight had nearly erupted over the last case of water. All that remained now was one slightly smooshed loaf of bread and a carton of milk that had the sell by date rubbed off.

The Doctor opened the milk up, sniffed it, and decided that it would do. He added the last three jars of some weird organic jam to their basket as well, ignoring Rose’s roll of her eyes when he insisted on opening that up to sample as well.

The Doctor actually crowed in triumph when the shopkeeper brought out some bananas that had been missed in the back. But once Rose confessed that she’d actually brought tea and biscuits from home at her father’s request, the Doctor gave her a smile so blindingly bright that her face warmed.

“Rose,” he gushed, taking her hand and swinging it between them, “You are fantastic!”

They left the shop together just as it was beginning to snow. Tiny flurries drifted down around them and the Doctor made a dramatic show of trying to catch them on his tongue. He kept her laughing right up until they approached the front desk of the hotel and found out they’d been given a room.

A room with only one bed.

“Are you sure there aren’t any other rooms available?” the Doctor asked the concierge. But the man apologized that they were all booked up because of the grounded flights and the ‘blizzard’ coming in.

“Isn’t it exciting? They’re saying we could get up to a foot of snow!” the concierge squealed, “I’ve never seen snow before. I can’t wait to build my first snowman!” He clapped his hands together enthusiastically, oblivious to Rose and the Doctor’s strained smiles as they considered the prospect of sharing a hotel room and a bed with a stranger for multiple nights.

The lift was small, but their room seemed even smaller to Rose once the door clicked shut behind them. Logically Rose knew the hotel room was probably larger than most of the rooms she’d stayed in over the last few years, but she didn’t think the Doctor had been quite so tall, so manly and so attractive until they were in a confined space together.

And that was bad, very bad, because Rose had just gotten out of an awful relationship and she had no intention of starting another one. After Jimmy Stone, Rose didn’t want to even look at another man, let alone sleep in the same bed as one.

No matter how much more fit and brilliant the bloke appeared to be in comparison to her ex.

“I can sleep on the floor,” Rose offered generously at the same time as he did.

They looked at each other and then glanced away again with a bit of nervous laughter. The Doctor rubbed at the nape of his neck and Rose sat down on the edge of the bed to unlace her Chucks that unfortunately weren’t quite broken in yet. She couldn’t quite disguise a flinch as she removed her left shoe. The new shoes had made the blisters that had formed from her ruined heel worse. 

“Mind if I take a look?” he offered, and Rose folded her arms over her chest.

“You broke my other heel,” she reminded him pointedly. “’m not sure I trust you around anything. 

“I’m a Doctor,” he assured her, “Well, sort of,” he mollified removing a pair of specs from the inside of his suit jacket, “I have a Doctorate in Physics and Chemistry, but I only did a brief stint in Engineering, Astronomy and Medicine, but that has to count for something, right?”

Rose blinked at him and he took that as permission. Kneeling down on the carpet at her feet, he carefully examined her left foot. Her eyelids slid to half-mast as he started to massage her heel and the arch of her foot, and then her toes. She was practically purring by the time he finished up with one foot and moved onto the other.

“You spend a lot of time on your feet,” he noted, repeating the same glorious patterns on her right foot.

“Used to work in a shop, twelve-hour shifts, constantly running around,” she explained, suppressing a moan of pleasure as he hit just the right spot with his magical fingers. The Doctor must’ve caught the sound she made, because he abruptly released her foot and stood up.

“Right, well, it looks like as long as you don’t wear shoes for the next few days those blisters should heal up on their own,” he said, backing away from her. The room was so small that he didn’t get very far.

“Don’t think that should be much of a problem, seeing as we’re not going anywhere for the next couple of days,” Rose sighed and looked out the window. In the glow of lamplight in the car park, she could see the snowflakes coming down faster and heavier.

The Doctor stepped toward the window and pushed the curtains wide. If it kept snowing like this then there was no way he was going to get out in time to make his appointment with Pete Tyler, and if he didn’t get the funding for Vitex, his colleagues and friends were going to lose their jobs, and the Doctor would never get a chance to get the vaccine out for a disease that was affecting millions of lives.

“You alright?”

He turned around and found Rose, bathed in the soft ambient lighting of the hotel room. The red blouse paired beautifully with what was left of her lipstick and highlighted the healthy rosy flush to her cheeks. She’d taken her hair down from its updo and her hair was longer than he expected, spilling down over her shoulders.

Rose reminded him a bit of Reinette, but there was nothing fake about her or her beauty. Her kindness and the beating heart that it came from was all genuine. It was a shame he’d sworn off relationships after his affair with the Parisian had ended in heartbreak, because he already knew that Rose was beautiful inside and out.

“I’m fine,” he lied.

She gave him a skeptical look, but fortunately she didn’t press him as she gathered up her toiletries and a change of clothes.

“Gonna use the loo, unless…” She waited for him to object, but he motioned for her to go ahead.

And then he was left alone again to contemplate how he was about to lose everything he’d worked for over the last decade, letting down more and more people with every snowflake that piled up outside.

TO BE CONTINUED...

#31 days of ficmas #doctorroseprompts #fic and chips #my writing

[saywha413]

More bad writing by me :D 

I imagined a proposal scenario for our favorite gays

I included the entire past fic, so you can skip it if you’ve already read it.

Also posted on archive of our own, so you can read it there too

20-year-old Goh was sitting at his desk, working hard (or was he hardly working 😏). He was writing a bunch of notes from his research on eevee and their evolutions. While he was proofreading it, the memory of his boyfriend, Ash Ketchum, asking him on their first date popped into his head…

It was a gorgeous day in Kanto. The sun was shining, the pidgey and spearow chirping, and the aerodactyl in Cerise Park sleeping. Professor Cerise let all the researchers have the day off, so they were all in Cerise Park. Chloe and Chrysa were watching an improvised game of soccer by the Pokémon and talking about the latest Pokémon Food Contest, Ren and Professor Cerise were hanging out with Goh’s other Pokémon. Suicune even appeared, it sensed something special was going to happen today and wanted to see it. Goh and Ash were sitting (closer than just friends would be) above all the others and talking. Eventually they fell silent and just watched the others. “Hey Goh?” Ash asked out of the blue. “Yeah?” Goh turned his head from the scene below. “I know we’ve done lots of things together, and even done date-like things, but never really gone on a date, so will you go on a date with me?” Ash gushed. He noticed the huge blush on his and Goh’s faces when Goh responded, “Of course I will!” He tackled Ash with a hug. The two research fellows were completely unaware that all the people and Pokémon in Cerise Park had witnessed what just happened. “I should go get cleaned up,” Ash stated. “Ok, I’ll pack a lunch or something…” Goh walked to the kitchen while Ash dashed to their shared room. Chloe, seeing an opportunity to tease them, followed them inside. She walked into the kitchen and greeted Goh who was making sandwiches for him and Ash. He got some donuts and drinks, as well as Poké Food for all their Pokémon. “You excited for your date?” Chloe teased, a huge smirk on her face. “What?!” Goh’s face turned bright red. “No I’m not.” He stated. They had been friends long enough to know he was lying instantly. “Stop teasing me!” He shot a glare at Chloe. She just laughed it off, teasing Goh was both easy and fun.

As Chloe walked up the stairs to Ash and Goh’s shared room, she wondered how she could tease Ash. His dense brain probably wouldn’t understand any of it. She knocked on the door and was answered with a “Come in!” She plopped on the bottom bunk and calmly stated “You and Goh make a cute couple.” Ash blushed a little and responded with “Thanks.” “Where are you taking him on your date?” Chloe innocently asked. “Oh. I don’t know.” Ash shrugged. “You don’t know?!” Chloe deadpanned. “I figured Goh would know what to do and where to go…” Ash packed up the last things he would need and said bye to Chloe. Chloe rushed out to Cerise Park and asked all the Pokémon and researchers, “Who wants to follow Ash and Goh on their date?” She was met with a various amount of grunts, roars, and other Pokémon noises. Chrysa agreed, she wanted to see the date for herself, but the Professor and Ren politely declined. Soon Ash and Goh left with the lunch and their main Pokémon (Pikachu, cinderace, lucario, sobble/drizzile/inteleon). They didn’t notice the two girls following them and the dragon or the ghost or all the various other Pokémon. The research fellows walked to the Cerise park and set out all the food, even the food for the Pokémon, and they let the Pokémon go free and walk around. They didn’t notice that Professor Cerise and Ren had left earlier or that suicune was still there, just watching from a different spot. Ash, being Ash, was shoveling food into his mouth while Goh was eating at a normal pace. Ash was so focused on food and Goh was so focused on Ash that they didn’t notice Chloe peeking at them from behind a tree, or that lucario and the others had come back to see the date from behind a bush. Soon there were only a couple donuts left and all the sandwiches were eaten. Ash took one and turned towards Goh. “Do you want some?” He held the donut close to Goh’s mouth. In response, Goh blushed and stuttered out, “A-are you sure?” Ash just smiled, so Goh took a bite while still blushing. They (again) were so focused on each other they didn’t notice Chloe or Chrysa squealing because of how cute it was. “Where do you want to go next?” Ash asked Goh. “I don’t know, just walking around is fine.” Goh commented and Ash agreed, so they left the Pokémon in Cerise Park unaware of the big group following them now.

While they were walking Goh spotted a vulpix, which he didn’t have, and ran up ahead and tripped. Just before he landed on his face, someone caught him. Goh looked up and it was Ash. “Are you ok?” Ash was holding him bridal-style. “I’m fine. Thank you for catching me.” Goh was blushing very hard now and Ash (behind dense) didn’t understand. He put Goh down and they kept walking. Soon they passed a clothing store. “Come on,” Goh insisted. “Let’s check it out.” “But we look fine!” Ash protested, but it was too late. Goh dragged Ash in by the hand. The store was empty at this time, and the cashier was playing something on his rotom phone. (Note: I know nothing about clothes and wear pjs all day so this part will sound a little weird) Ash was looking through the Pokémon clothing section, maybe he could find something pikachu or the rest of his Pokémon would like, then Goh called him over to the changing rooms. “Try this outfit on,” he insisted. Ash went in and soon called out “Are you sure this will look good?” “Just show me!” Goh pushed. When Ash came out again, he was wearing a simple black t-shirt and some blue jeans with a belt that had a small lightning-bolt shaped buckle. “So, uh what do you think? How do I look?” Ash glanced very nervously at Goh. “You look handsome.” Goh immediately responded. This caused Ash to blush even harder than he was before. “Now you pick me an outfit!” Goh jumped up and down a little. “Ok! Give me a couple minutes.” While Goh waited he was staring out the window and swore he saw a dragonite and a girl with magenta-colored hair on his back. “Is that Chloe and Ash’s dragonite?” Goh thought to himself. “Nah it can’t be.” he dismissed the earlier thought, not knowing that it was right. “Ok I’m back!” Ash handed a small pile of clothes to Goh. While Goh was changing, it was his turn to ask “Are you sure this will look good?” Ash replied, “I’m sure it’ll look great!” When Goh came out he was wearing a dress with a pikachu and scorbunny pattern. (But the pattern is pretty small if you want to draw it) “How do I look?” Goh asked, more flustered and nervous than Ash. “Beautiful.” Ash simply replied. They stared at each other for a while and had their fingers laced together. Right when they were about to kiss, a voice from outside the changing rooms yelled “You better not be smoochin’ in there lovebirds!” This made the lovebirds research fellows even more bright scarlet than they already were and Chloe, Chrysa, and the Pokémon laugh outside.

Ash and Goh left the clothing store wearing their new outfits and walking back to the Cerise Lab. They were (again) holding hands and chatting about random things. “Do you remember that time we were on that slowpoke island?” “I’d rather not think about that.” When they made it back it was almost night and the sun was setting. “Do you want to watch the sunset with me?” Ash asked, though it was kind of unnecessary because they were already walking towards a bench. When they sat down, the research fellows spent more time losing themselves in each other’s eyes than actually watching the sun set. Their fingers still laced together, they brought their faces closer. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Ash gently asked, almost whispered. “I think we’re thinking the same thing…” Goh whispered back. When their lips met it it invoked a new feeling into both of their hearts: love. They held that position for a minute, but that minute drifted into two, then three, until they broke it to breathe. “I love you Goh.” Ash kissed his cheek. “I love you too Ash.” Goh kissed him on the lips again. Both the research fellows knew that this was only the beginning as the journey continues… 

(The people and Pokémon in the lab saw the kiss, Chloe and Chrysa were fang irking and Ren and the Professor both were a lil surprised but not a lot. The Pokémon all had different reactions)

He blushed remembering that day, but his thoughts were interrupted by a small sound. “Meww!” He jumped up and woke his sleeping Pokémon, cinderace, inteleon, and thwackey. “C’mon guys!! Mew is in the area!!” Goh ran through his lab and grabbed a single Pokéball. When he checked himself in the mirror, he remembered when Chloe insisted on braiding his now very long hair (she had cut hers recently and missed braiding hair) and he wasn’t sure if he liked the braid. Ash had come in and commented that it looked good on him, and now Goh has Chloe braid it every day. He looked at his fingernails, which were painted the same shade of blue as his eyes today, and remembered something similar had happened with those too. Chloe had cut her nails too short and insisted on painting his instead. He, again, wasn’t sure if he liked it, but Ash did, so he kept repainting his nails. The last spot his eyes fell on was his earrings. He had a small red stud and a keystone earring the same shade of blue as his eyes that Ash had given him(I tell you I really like “Hiding in Public” by Negira1239… The earring bit is my favorite :D). He shook himself a little, what was he doing? He had to find mew! He and his 3 Pokémon ran towards the entrance. “What are you doing?” His lab assistants Chloe and Horace looked at him with confusion, they weren’t used to seeing him run around like this. That was more of an Ash thing. “I heard mew and I’m going to catch it!” “With that?” Chloe pointed to the single Pokéball in his hand. “Yup. Okbye!!” He sped out the door before they could ask any more questions. 

When he reached the forest behind Cerise Lab (It’s actually in Galar, they named it after professor Cerise) mew stopped and looked at him, as if to challenge “Come on! Throw that Pokéball!” He simply stated, “Look mew. I don’t want you to stay in a place you’re unhappy. So,” He held the Pokéball out to mew. “If you want to join me, you can. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Mew, who was touched by the speech, placed its paw on the Pokéball and then 1, 2, 3, “Mew was registered to your Pokédex!” Goh jumped up and cheered with cinderace, while he received high-fives from inteleon and thwackey. Too bad Ash couldn’t be here to see this, he had to battle someone….This gave him an idea! “Come out mew!” Mew popped out and Goh asked it, “Can you teleport me and my Pokémon to Wyndon Stadium?” Mew obliged and in a flash, they teleported what would have taken about an hour or two to walk. He put mew back in its Pokéball and entered. (Note: In my universe Ash swaps all his Pokémon, except pikachu, around to better combat your team. He also switches between singles and doubles. This makes him the hardest champion and, some people even say, the hardest trainer to beat in the world. Also, all his old Pokémon evolved, like bayleef to meganium and bulbasaur to venasaur, etc. For instance, you have a charizard and flareon, he uses samurott and blastoise. He also uses megas, z-moves, AND g-max, but only one per battle.) This time, Ash was in a double battle with dracovish and samurott against a centiskortch and mudsdale. “Use fishious rend on centiskortch!” Ash commanded. “Dodge it!” The challenger tried to combat it, but centiskortch was too slow and got knocked out. Then, Ash commanded samurott to use its signature move on mudsdale and quickly finished it. The challenger was upset, tears forming in their eyes, but those tears quickly faded when the champion held his hand out. “Thank you for the battle,” he commented while shaking their hand. “You have impressive talent and great Pokémon, I’m sure we’ll face off again soon.” The challenger shook his hand with a new, confident, expression. “I’m sure we will!” Goh ran over to his boyfriend and shouted “ASH! I CAUGHT MEW!” Ash hugged him around his waist and spun him around. “I knew you could do it!”Ash congratulated. Then Ash kissed him. (on the lips) The crowd and announcers and people watching from their homes gasped. They knew that the champion was dating someone, but he was very private about it. People had predicted that he was dating the performer Serena or gym leader Misty. Some people guessed he was dating the Island Kahuna Kiawe or Gladion, who people weren’t sure what he did, or maybe even Professor Gary. No one had ever thought of the regional professor of Galar.

“Come on! I have something to show you!” The champion dragged the professor away, by the hand, leaving all the Pokémon behind. “Can you watch our Pokémon? Thanks!” Goh called to the bewildered challenger still on the pitch. Ash took Goh to a secluded part of the park nearby, where no Pokémon or people other than the 2 of them were in sight. “Goh.” Ash stopped walking and turned to face him. “We have been friends and boyfriends for a long time. You are the most important thing to me, and the love of my life.” Ash got down on one knee. “Goh, will you marry me?” Goh, who was blushing madly and had happy tears in his eyes, enthusiastically tackled his fiance with a hug and responded with, “Of course!!” Little did they know, all the legends and myths were watching over them, and Dialga knew they would have long and happy lives. Together.

#satogou

[writerofshit]

Secret Santa:X

(This is half headcanon, half fic, all fun times and emotions)

(Shoutout to the Penthouse discord server for help on some of the gifts, would have been lost without you)

The last Christmas they have in the penthouse, Ryan brings up Secret Santa again. It’s partly a joke, partly a nod to the nostalgia that’s been eating at all of them the last few months. He brings it up when they’re all gathered in the living room, watching Gavin try and prove his stealth abilities in Hitman.

(“Just because you can be stealthy in a video game doesn’t mean I’m letting you come with me.” Jack had said at the beginning of it all.

“If I get silent assassin you have to take me!”

“This is your fourth run through!”)

Anyhow, Ryan brings it up, all nonchalant. “Remember that year we did Secret Santa?”

“No?” Jeremy says honestly.

“Before your time.” Michael says with a smile, patting him on the head.

“It was fun. We should do it again.”

(”Goddamnit!” On screen, Gavin dies again.)

The next day they have a meeting of all the ‘movers and shakers’, as Geoff has taken to calling them. He announces that Secret Santa is yet again a thing, and no, Matt, you can’t get out of it. There’s no budget, because they all have access to more money than they know what to do with.

They throw eleven names in a hat and go from there. Geoff calls first pick because he’s an asshole like that, and his choice picks next, so on and so forth.

 “Just get your shit done by Christmas, and we’ll do it then.”

--

Geoff pulls Gavin, and only panics a little.

The kid has everything he could ever want, what’s he really supposed to do? He considers what he might need, ends up crossing ‘bulletproof vest and a helmet’ off the list because it feels a little impersonal. He could do liquor of some sort, but he suspects there will be enough of that floating around on Christmas day.

He considers a camera, knows Gavin is into that kind of shit, but he’s lost a lot of knowledge in that department over the years. The only person who knows enough is Gavin himself, and that kind of defeats the point.

He ends up going for a new pair of gold shades, because the old ones are pretty worn out after six-plus years, and he’s almost positive Gavin has lost them. (Probably in Ryan’s room, but that’s neither here nor there) He gets a pair that have diamonds along the arms, and even though they’re ridiculously expensive he thinks it’s worth it.

Gavin adores them, has them on within 30 seconds of unwrapping them. He pokes himself in the eye, and that feels like a bonus to Geoff.

--

Gavin pulls Trevor, and while he plays it off at first “Oh, this will be easy, I got this person for sure!” he absolutely has no idea what to do.

 There’s a weird bit of time where he tries to get to know Trevor better. He learns absolutely nothing new, despite following the guy for almost a week.

There’s a night he lays in bed with Ryan, bitching about this whole thing. “What the hell do I do? This was terrible for me last time, why would you suggest this?”

He ends up calling Barbara from the Roosters to try and figure out something, who promptly makes fun of him for not knowing anything about the guy he’s worked with for years. She does give one bit of new information, so he goes with it.

He gives Trevor tickets to the next Motocross event, because it’s apparently something he’s into. He throws in a NASA t-shirt as a joke, a nod to the world Trevor left behind.

Both items go over well, Trevor immediately pulling the shirt on over what he’s already wearing. He won’t shut up about Motocross for the rest of the day, either.

--

Trevor pulls Ryan, which he’s immediately terrified of.

 He knows Ryan well enough to know that there won’t be any serious repercussions if he fucks it up, he won’t get gutted over a poor gift choice. But he also knows he’ll get that weird stare Ryan does when he’s pretending to consider whether or not to hurt someone. Plus he won’t live it down from the rest of the crew.

At first he goes to Gavin for help, because apparently nobody is taking the ���secret’ part seriously. Gavin absolutely refuses to help him, mostly for the laughs. He knows Gavin’s getting a kick out of watching him squirm over this, which is so unfair. Then he asks Jack for help, who just shrugs. 

“You’re a smart guy, Trevor, you’ll figure something out.”

He does, sort of. He gives Ryan a 24 pack of diet coke (because what else?) and an actually beautiful rainbow knife. It seems pretty heavy duty, and he knows its right up his alley. He also throws in some earplugs as a joke.

 “So you can tune out Gav’s idiocy whenever you need.”

“Come on, Trevor. I’ve had years of practice at that. The knife is gorgeous though.”

--

Ryan pulls Alfredo, and he’s not too worried about it.

Alfredo’s their go-to sniper these days, and a new sniper rifle seems pretty obvious. Maybe a gift card to Ammunation or something? It does feel a little lackluster, even to him, so he brings it up to Gavin one night, while Gav is still debating t-shirts from Amazon.

“That’s a bit boring, isn’t it?”

“You’re buying a NASA shirt for an ex-aerospace engineer. I’m gonna need you to rethink your stance on this one.”

“Nah. You gotta do something better for Fredo, he deserves it.”

Which. alright, then what the fuck is he supposed to do? He gets his answer the next week when he sees Alfredo on a motorcycle for the first time.

“I’m going to teach you how to actually ride that thing.” Which is good, a chance to catch up and hang out. Bad, because Ryan’s method of teaching is ‘learn by doing’ and does in fact result in shouting.

Ryan still gives him the sniper rifle, which he is far more excited about.

--

Alfredo pulls Fiona, and it’s the first time he marginally regrets joining the crew.

He’s got no fucking idea what she’d like, what gift she’d appreciate and not hit him over. He tries to be casual about asking around, hoping someone might have better insight. The rest of the crew catches on immediately, and they flood him with false information.

“She loves chocolate. Favorite Halloween candy, in fact!” Michael tells him, but the grin he has says otherwise.

“She mentioned something about wanting to learn a new language.” Jack says seriously.

“Get her an English to French dictionary, she’ll love it.” Gavin tacks on.

“French, yep. She definitely wants to learn that one.”

Lindsay is the only one who actually helps him. “She’s been known to enjoy a drink or two.”

By sheer luck he happens to walk into one of the thousand arguments Fiona has with Michael over the whole ‘Halloween candy’ debacle, and he knows immediately that's a bad route to go down.

He ends up making a gift basket full of liquor mini’s and various candies. He makes sure not to include any chocolates, and throws some extra blowpops in, just to be safe.

Thankfully, she does appreciate the thought he put in, and she says she’ll only share with Alfredo since everyone else is an asshole.

--

Fiona pulls Lindsay, and it’s not hard to figure out what she’ll like.

 She considers something chaotic, the two of them wreaking havoc on the city together. It makes sense. She also thinks about organizing a ‘girls day’, getting all the ladies of the crew together to go out and fuck some shit up. There’s a lot of logistics involved in that one, including convincing some of them to be out in the field like that.

It crosses her mind to bring Lindsay to a shelter to play with cats, because if there’s one thing Lindsay likes more than chaos, it’s cats. That’s also a bit of a logistical nightmare, not to mention the strength it would take to pry her away.

In the end she goes with cat merch. It’s a basket full of goodies, including a mug with a cat holding a bi-pride flag, a dress with various cartoon cats on it, and a cat necklace that has her birthstone as the body.

It’s beautiful, and Lindsay just about cries. She too, immediately changes into her new clothing, and she drinks everything out of the mug for at least a month.

--

Lindsay pulls Matt, and at first she panics.

She knows him fairly well, but like... He’s a real weirdo, what’s she supposed to do with that? She wonders what games he could use, if there’s anything he hasn’t bought himself.

Her confusion lasts until she mentions it to Michael. (Only after he let it slip who he’d picked.)

“Are you fucking kidding me? Matt’s the easiest goddamn one!”

“Bullshit! Name one thing you know about M.att B.ragg!”

“He eats like shit! Give him a box of donuts and he’ll lose his fuckin mind.”

Her response of  “Oh my god.” is barely heard.

She spends a week trying out different recipes, much to Ryan’s delight. He’s happy to play taste-tester while she finds the perfect flavor combination.

She winds up going with a double chocolate espresso concoction. Matt is, of course, super stoked about his cupcakes, and damn near has to fight Ryan off to protect them.

--

Matt pulls Jeremy, which is pretty much a slam dunk.

Whiskey is the obvious choice, one he’ll absolutely go with, thank you very much. Who said taking the easy way out never got you anywhere?

And it would have, if it weren’t for Geoff.

There’s a debate that happens about a week before Christmas, something about the necessity of going to the liquor store. Michael and Jeremy are firmly pro-trip, and Geoff just wants them to “stay home and do some goddamn work. Besides, it’s not like half of you guys aren’t buying each other liquor anyway. In a week I’m sure we’ll be fully stocked.”

Which, alright. Fuck Matt then, huh? He’d genuinely thought it was a good idea, a mix of thoughtful and practical.

He decides to pair the whiskey with- well, it’s kind of a joke gift, but at least he won’t be accused of only buying liquor.

He commissions a customized cowboy hat. Half purple half orange, split right down the middle. There’s a neon yellow buckle on it, and it’s the ugliest thing Matt has ever seen in his life.

Jeremy loves it though, thinks it’s goddamn perfect. He wears it for the rest of the day, and for the next heist.

(Michael is less enthused.)

--

Jeremy pulls Michael, and that-

That’s harder than it should be.

He and Michael have been doing this... Whatever the fuck it is for over six months now, and they haven’t goddamn talked about. Not really. They’ve had moments,sure, here and there when they’re both drunk and thinking far too much about it. Reminding each other that they’re happy, that this is a good time, wouldn’t change it for the world-

But there’s still nights they sleep alone and they don’t talk about why. They still don’t really mention it to anyone else, even if they all know. Jeremy still doesn’t know how to answer when someone asks what the deal is with him and Michael.

So it’s hard, right, to come up with a relationship- appropriate gift. Too jokey and he’ll feel bad. Too serious isn’t their style at all. Plus like… how’s he supposed to do that in front of everybody? Just because they know there’s something there doesn’t mean they need to put on a show.

He settles on the obvious, nice bottle of tequila and a couple of shot glasses. It’s not exactly personal, but it’s good enough to show the room.

Later, in a quiet moment they can steal away, Jeremy offers to take him out the next night.

“We’ll do the bar thing, just you and me. My treat.”

“Oh yeah? You’re buying my drinks all night?” Michael asks him with a sly grin.

“I uh- I’ll get your drinks for as long as you’ll have me.” and it doesn’t come out exactly right, but they both know what he means by it.

Earns him a smile and a sweet kiss, and that alone is worth it.

--

Michael pulls Jack, and he runs through a few options.

He considers buying her furniture, because he knows she'll need it when they all finally do move out. But Jack has a good head on her shoulders and probably already has that shit on lock.

He looks into custom shelving, for all the knick knacks she's collected over the years. He could get it designed in colors she'd like and shell out extra for lighting and all that shit. But she doesn't have a new place yet, as far as he knows, so that's kind of a bust.

He could give her what amounts to a gift certificate, an offer to pay for whatever she wants made, but that seems kind of… Empty?

There's the age old alcohol gift, but that's been done before, and is probably being done by almost everyone else.

He mentions to Lindsay how weirdly difficult it is to buy something for Jack, get’s zero advice but somehow helps her figure out the whole Matt mystery.

In the end he decides to help her out and piss her off, a little bit of a win-win kinda thing. He buys her a couple of new shirts, bold and flowery and almost as bad as Jeremy’s Rimmy Tim shtick. He hates them but he knows she loves them, so it’s worth it.

He tells her it’s because her old shirts gotta be falling out of fashion, an opinion she is not happy about.

But it’s fine, because he also gets her tickets to fucking Disney World, of all places. He even offers to go with her, which she absolutely takes him up on.

It’s more fun than he expects, and it’s a really good chance to actually spend some time with her. He hadn’t realized it had been so long.

--

Jack pulls Geoff, which.

It’s no secret that Geoff is a sentimental bastard when it comes to the crew. It’s exactly why he’d spent months talking to her about the possibility of selling the penthouse, trying to figure out exactly how everyone would react, trying to figure out how he would react to not having them all so close anymore. She spent countless nights listening to him wonder what it meant that he wanted his own space.

Objectively, he was probably a bad person but his love and fierce loyalty to the crew made up for that, in some ways, right? So how can he kick them out, how can he do this to them, he’s being selfish-

And she had just explained to him that he had to do what was right for him. That it was understandable. That he was right, they could all use the opportunity to be a little more independent. She was looking forward to having her own space, and in time the rest of them would too.

So when she pulls Geoff’s name, she knows she’s gotta lean into that a bit. She could get him some books, some puzzles maybe. He’d mentioned off-hand that he missed having the space for them, because the kitchen table was always covered in some sort of crew shenanigans.

She does get him those, because she knows they’ll get some use.

But the big thing is the collage.

She’s had pictures of the crew on her phone for years, dating all the way back to her and Geoff in a shitty apartment. She’s got some of Ray, curled up on the couch with a DS in his hand. Gavin and Michael wrestling one drunken night. Ryan, nodded off on the couch after a heist, face paint still on and a complete mess. Jeremy trying to teach Matt something resembling self-defense. Lindsay cuddling a stray cat she had taken in. Trevor and Alfredo in matching clothes, playing up the ‘twin’ joke that had been going around. Fiona in that bright yellow suit, modeling for her Instagram.

There’s one she gets at the last minute, gets somebody from the support team to take right before their latest heist. It’s all eleven of them, full heist get-up, masks and obnoxious fashion choices and guns tucked here and there. They’re in the boardroom, running through it one more time before they take off, and in retrospect, it’s probably the last time they’ll do that in that room.

She sets that one in the middle, surrounded by all of these moments from the last 12 years.

“For your new place, when you find it.” Jack says.

It’s beautiful, and it makes Geoff cry. It brings some sniffles from a lot of them, even if they all deny it.

Leaving the penthouse isn’t the easiest thing for any of them, but it’s the right move. After all, they’re still a family.

#ks writes #fahc #fahc headcanon #ragehappy #christmas in july yall #i honestly love this a lot and hope yall do too #jeremichael #tagging those boys for Reasons

[sirius]

Could I get an imagine where the reader is a muggle American and she’s on vacation in London with her family and she somehow lost her family and she’s like freaking out and then she runs into Sirius on the streets and he like helps calm her down and helps her find her family? Sorry if this is a weird request

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader, James Potter x Lily Evans (mentioned) 

Warnings: Swearing, stranger danger too, I guess. 

A/N: so sorry this took so long! I loved the idea and I hope I did it justice. I might add to it later on or revamp it bc I love the idea but it’s a big maybe at the moment bc I’m so busy with uni and work and also my other wips. I hope you enjoy this though. Also I changed the request quite a bit bc I forgot what you originally wanted! So sorry!! 

just want to add that I did something o probably shouldn’t and included my real life friends! With their permission, ofc. I also made a modern reference even tho it’s supposed to be the seventies but I liked it too much so I left it in ha ha. Also…pls don’t talk to strangers. This is fanfiction people not an advice column. 

****

It’s another uncharacteristically warm day in London.

The sun showers blankets of warm golden light over the city, guilding skyscrapers and warming the sweet, honeyed breeze. Sparrows are chirping sweet, morning songs, dancing in the air with surprising grace. Squirrels scamper across lush green grounds in a park nearby, happily bidding you a good morning.

And not one of these motherfuckers are going to help you find your friends.

You wander aimlessly past the same park monument you saw just half an hour ago. Your legs are already aching, your feet are forming blisters that hurt the more you think about them, and the sun is slowly drilling into your soul.

You think you might die of thirst before you find your friends.

In retrospect, it wasn’t entirely Sophie’s fault. While it was her dumb shit idea to tag along with the sexy British tour guide, you, Matt, Aaron, Riley and Reuben had been far more interested in touring the British Museum. So it wasn’t at all surprising when Sophie rushed off with knockoff Colin Firth to have a jolly high tea or whatever it is British people do on dates. Still, it gave you an opportunity to visit the museum.

You hadn’t even walked through the front gates when Matt, Aaron and Riley wandered off to have a deep and meaningful (you had warned Riley that coming on the trip with Aaron would cause some tension between your group. Thing between you and Aaron were a lot more complicated than the five-night-stand you’d shared last year). Reuben, being his usual womanising self, started flirting with the hot receptionist and not wanting any part of that (last time you wing-womaned for Reuben, the chick thought you were seeking a third), you stepped out for some air.

Now, you’re trying to navigate through the urban maze that is London by yourself, struggling to find your friends who are scattered all over the city.

Slumping against a park chair, you take a deep breath and study your map again. A part of you is screaming at you to swallow your pride and ask for directions but you’re a stubborn New Yorker and if you can effortlessly find your way through the Big Apple, you can tackle London.

“You’re not from around here…” says a masculine voice behind you. You sit up straight, whipping around in the direction of the voice.

Holy fucking cucumber sandwich.

The most handsome man you’ve ever laid your eyes on leans against the trunk of an old oak tree, observing you with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. He looks like he chomps down magical donuts that grant him sexy powers. You stare.

A cigarette hangs from his kissable, smirking lips. His hair falls gracefully around his face, framing glinting gray-blue eyes, high cheekbones and a strong jaw. He’s wearing a leather jacket and exudes all types mysterious-sexy-bad boy vibes. You’d bet a hundred bucks that he rides a motorcycle too.

Boys with motorcycles are usually trouble.

Your mouth goes a little bit dry.

“Please don’t be a serial killer,” you mutter and the stranger cocks a perfect eyebrow.

“What was that?”

You shake your head, “I mean — Is it that obvious?”

Sexy bad boy stranger shrugs, “I know a lost tourist when I see one.”

“Is this what you do, then? Lurk around parks waiting for lost tourists?”

Bad boy chuckles — a deep growling sound that rumbles at the back of his throat, “Maybe. Maybe I was just walking past and thought I’d help out a pretty girl in need.”

It takes all of your willpower not to blush now.

“So you’re just a Good Samaritan, then.”

“I’m whatever you want me to be.”

“What if I want you to go away?”

The handsome, young motorbike guy takes a deliberate step forward, “I think we both know that’s not true.”

You swallow. He’s good at this game. Something tells you that you’re not the first victim of his play-boy charms.

Desperately trying to reclaim your composure, you fold your arms across your chest and glare at him.

“What makes you think I need your help?”

British James Dean thinks for one attractive moment, “Well, you don’t have to accept my help but something tells me that if you don’t ask for directions soon, you’re going to end up wandering around London forever.”

He makes a good point.

You stand up from your seat, arms still folded across your chest, “Hypothetically speaking, If I were to accept your help, how would I know that you’re not a perverted serial killer who wants to collect my spleen and leave me in a ditch or something?”

Sexy stranger takes another step forward, “That’d be a shame. You’re too beautiful to kill, and I’m just beginning to like you.”

“That’s exactly what a perverted serial killer would say.”

“Touché. Alright, how about this: I drop you off at your hotel straight away, no detours and no taxi fees that you have to fork out to greedy muggl— erm, I mean, drivers.”

You consider this. He certainly doesn’t seem like a serial killer. Still, it’s hard to trust a charming stranger, especially one as handsome as he is. Then again, if he’s smart — which he definitely is — he’d never kill you in broad daylight in the middle of London.

You uncross your arms and hold one out for him to shake, “Alright, deal.”

Sexy stranger takes your hand and shakes it. His hand is strong and firm and electricity sparks in the warm space where your hands are clasped together.

“Sirius.”

“What?”

“Sirius.”

You blink at him, “Is that some kind of fungal STI that I need to be aware of?”

Sexy stranger chuckles again, “My name is Sirius.”

Sirius? Who the fuck calls their kid Sirius? You have to admit that the name suits him, and the way he says it — in a husky, velvety murmur — gives the name an alluring sex appeal, which sums him up completely.

You consider giving him a fake name but ultimately decide against it. That’s just weird and you can’t lie for shit.

“I’m (Y/N).”

Sirius repeats your name, tasting it on his lips. A more carnal part of you wishes he’d say it in a completely different context.

“Alright, (Y/N),” Sirius smiles, and he practically glows with charisma, “Lets get you home.”

***

You were right, of course. About the motorcycle.

Sirius’ carefully-polished motorbike is almost as sexy as it’s owner; gleaming in the sunlight and flaunting a sleek black paint job with plush leather seats. Several passerby’s stop to admire it (or Sirius, you can’t exactly tell), though Sirius doesn’t pay them any mind. One dudebro with a repugnantly bright tank top gawks at the motorbike while his girlfriend stares hungrily at Sirius.

“I’ve…never ridden a motorcycle before,” you bleat nervously.

Sirius hands you a helmet and smiles.

“Just hold onto me and you’ll be fine.”

Sirius mounts his motorbike and you awkwardly slide in behind him. You’re not sure where to put your hands so you place them on his shoulders. You think you hear Sirius laugh behind his helmet.

Sirius turns the ignition, revs the engine, and kicks the bike into gear.

“You alright back there?” He calls over the roar of the bike.

“Uh—yeah.”

“Hold onto my waist,” he orders, “You’ll be more secure.”

You’re about to protest but then Sirius takes off and you find your arms flying to his waist, gripping on tightly.

It’s exhilarating. Liberating. Intoxicating.

As Sirius weaves between London traffic, you feel a rush of adrenaline pulse through your veins. The air whips past, fluttering around the ruffled trim of your dress. Your hands soak in the warmth of Sirius’ body, his muscles firm beneath your touch.

You pass familiar landmarks and stores you passed when you and your friends took the double-decker bus from your hotel room. You recognise the buildings around you and realise the hotel is just a few kilometres down the street, on the right.

Suddenly, Sirius veers off to the left and zooms down a street you don’t recognise.

“What are you doing? The hotel is up that way!”

“I just have to make a quick stop,” he shouts over his shoulder.

“That wasn’t part of the deal!”

“Don’t worry, it won’t take long.”

You clutch onto him, apprehension beginning to claw away at your lower belly. Where is he taking you? How could you have been so stupid to trust an extremely attractive stranger to follow through with a deal?

Sirius slows the bike down until it rolls to a stop and flicks the engine off, climbing off sexily. He helps you clamber awkwardly off the bike and you tear your helmet off, taking in your surroundings for the first time.

You’re next to a footpath with a view of the The Thames, lined with large ornamental pear trees. Its quite a romantic spot with a view of the entire city sitting pretty behind the flowing River Thames.

Sirius tells you to wait by the motorbike and stalks away, rushing toward a boy who looks about your age. He’s tall, has messy black hair, and half-frame glasses. He looks like a sexy professor with the body of an Olympic swimmer that all the girls have crushes on.

Why are all the men here so insanely attractive?

You’re just about to sink into a delightful fantasy of sexy Professor feeding you grapes when Sirius comes up behind you.

“Ready to go?”

You ignore his question, “Who was the god — I mean — guy that you saw?”

Sirius arches an eyebrow. You notice for the first time that there is a scar knitted into it, “That’s James. He’s a total prat, by the way.”

“Sounds like you two have that in common,” you quip and Sirius mocks offence.

“Anyone tell you that you’re cruel?”

“Everyday of my life.”

“Here I was thinking you were just another hot little American bird.”

For one half of a millisecond, your brain snags on the word ‘hot.’ Did he just call you hot? You heard that right? You recover with grace, grinning wickedly.

“You’ll get over it.”

A teasing smirk flirts around the corners of Sirius’ lips, a little crookedly, slanting lazily in a way that makes your cheeks warm. He looks amused by this verbal tug-of-war but also a little turned on.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same way.

“You ever walk along the River Thames?” Sirius asks, sliding his strong, sexy hands into the pocket of his sexy leather jacket. He begins to follow the footpath, leading you past the knots of pigeons and moonstruck lovers.

“No,” you sigh, “Admittedly, I just came along for the underage drinking and the hot British guys.”

Sirius laughs, “How’s that working out for you?”

You shrug, teasing him with a flirtatious smile, “I’m still working on it.”

“If you want,” Sirius begins, clawing at the nape of his neck, “I can help you out with that.”

You quirk a carefully-manicured brow, “What, you know any hot guys like your buddy James?”

Sirius snorts, “I wouldn’t go saying that around his girlfriend.”

“Why, is she the jealous type?”

“No, she’s the ‘try-not-to-make-his-fat-Head-even-fatter’ type.”

You chuckle, intrigue plucking at your mind, “She’s my type of girl.”

“Lily is everyone’s type of girl.”

“Well now I just have to meet her.”

Sirius raises his brows, a spark of hope in his eyes, “Is that your way of telling me that you’re taking me up on the offer for free beer?”

“You never said it was free before.”

“I’m feeling generous.”

“Aw, and they say chivalry is dead.”

Sirius laughs easily in a way that is completely carefree, as though laughter bubbles just beneath his skin, itching to pour out. It’s mesmerising how he doesn’t seem to take life too seriously.

“You are something else,” he says, letting his eyes catch and linger on yours for a quiet, suspended moment.

A gust of warm, summer wind brings peach blossoms raining down. The gentle coo of a skylark echoes in the distance. Time slows to a stop to stare at the two of you.

He steps forward, like he’s about to kiss you.

You let him.

He tastes like liquor and rebellion, a little wild in a way you’ve never realised you’ve wanted, you’ve needed. His hands are strong as they wrap around you, pulling you flush against his chest. Your fingers roam through his hair, tangling, tugging, earning a low groan from the back of his throat. You feel drunk on him, your head spinning and your heart thumping, as though it’s trying to tear through your chest and leap into his strong, capable hands. Suddenly, you realise how weird this is. He’s a stranger you’ve known for an hour or so yet now you’re kissing him. It’s as though you’re somehow drawn to him, to his energy, to the way he seems to know you intimately, in ways you hardly know about yourself. You break away, taking a step away from him. Sirius looks like he’s five again and has just had his favourite toy ripped away from him. 

““Are you—?”

Slap

Before you even realise what you’re doing, you’re slapping him across the cheek, not hard but he feels it. You kissed a stranger. That is a thing you did. You also slapped said stranger, partly because of impulse and partly because you’re terrified of how quickly your feelings are beginning to stir for someone you hardly know. Sirius is stunned, silent, staring at you with shock and hurt that stings you more than it should. You stare back, drawn in by every fleck of colour in his eyes, suddenly aware that, sure, he may be a stranger but that doesn’t mean he has to stay one. Obviously, you have a connection.

 So…connect.

 You crash your lips against his again, throwing your arms around his neck. 

Your friends can wait. You’ve found yourself a new tour guide. 

#sirius black #harry potter #hp imagines #young sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #james potter #lily evans #jily #fanfiction #sirius black imagine #the marauders #the marauders imagine #remus lupin #georgie writes

[theartisticintrovert]

Case #0130403

Statement of Jason Gale, regarding the strange occurrences surrounding Daniel Fenton. Original statement given 3rd April, 2013. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins.

--

I wanna start this by saying that I barely knew Danny. I don’t know how he became what he is, but what I did see, well...I still have nightmares. I guess I should start at the beginning, though I’m not really sure how much of a beginning there is.

I never had the greatest home life. Pretty textbook, really. Shitty dad, dead mom, bad friends, the works. I ran away when I was fourteen, fell in with a real bad crowd. I’d been in and out of juvie every few months, but I didn’t meet Danny until I was sixteen. I’d been picked up at the scene of a robbery, don’t even remember where, and sent off to Amity Youth Detention Center. I’d been there for about three months when my old cellmate got released, so I was on my own for a bit. I didn’t mind, D Block wasn’t exactly the worst it could get.

Danny transferred in a few weeks later. At first, I didn’t think much of him. He was tiny, barely 5’4 I think, and he looked like a twig. His eyes, though.....his eyes were what scared me the most. They looked dead, like someone sucked all the life outta him, just leaving his corpse walkin’ around like some kinda zombie. They sent him in and he just.....stared, watching Officer McCarthy leave like he was already planning the poor bastard’s funeral. I freaked out a little. I’m not ashamed, kid was fuckin’ scary.

That’s when it happened. It’s like something snapped in him. The room got all cold, and the lights started flickering. He shoved me up against the wall and I dunno how but it felt like this.....predator staring at me. I don’t even remember what he said, but I just agreed to whatever it was so he’d stop staring at me. I swear his eyes were green, but it had to just be a trick of the light. It had to be, because I remember they were blue. I remember, because I remember thinking how weird it was for an Asian kid to have blue eyes.

Still, when he got mad......I swear to you, they were green.

Sorry, I got a little.....off track there. There were a few more weird things about him, but just little things. He never ate, and I know it wasn’t that he was eating when I couldn’t see him. AYDC has scheduled meal times for every block, and every single time it was D’s turn he just....stayed in bed. There’s no getting in or out once the door’s locked, so he wasn’t sneaking around. And yet, even after about a week and a half of this, he was fine. No complaining, no hunger pains, not even a little bit of nausea. Like.....like he didn’t need food. I asked him about it, but the answer, well.....I think he was a bit nutty. Everyone was in there. 

I managed to get him into the cafeteria one time, though not for very long. I think Emily, that is, Emily Grey, scared him off, but I can’t be sure. I do remember though, that the others felt it too. Danny was.....he had this like, aura of despair. Like you get near him, and nothing you do will make you feel again. Owen Coulter said he “felt like depression, if depression was a person”. I only remember that because it was so strange to hear a twelve year old say that with the knowledge that only an old man has, but there it was anyway.

He got transferred a few days later, or....I assume he was transferred, anyway. I heard he’d finally gotten his trial, but he didn’t come back after. I can only assume they sent him to F, because I didn’t see him for several months after that. I’d honestly just been starting to feel okay again when he came back to D. I only really noticed him because we were in the yard at the same time, and something in me wanted to turn around and bolt the second I spotted him. Still, he seemed.....different. Less angry, less......snappish. I noticed a few new scars on him too, which was strange just because the inmates at AYDC aren’t allowed any electronics, so how the hell did he get electrocution scars?

The next big one happened after he was released. He’d been out for about a week when I got a visitor. This was news to me, since my old man doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me and my friends wouldn’t be caught dead in a juvie visitation room. Only visitors I really got were my lawyer and sometimes my stepmom, but she didn’t come often. She doesn’t like me much, but that’s beside the point. When I saw Danny on the other side of that glass window, I about turned around right there. Unfortunately for me, the door was already shut and I couldn’t get anyone to open it, not from my side. Fuckin’ bastards probably stepped out for a donut break, who knows. The point is, Danny was....different. 

His scars curled up both of his cheeks now, pale and prominent against his sickly brown skin. His eyes seemed a little sharper now, a little more aware. I wasn’t entirely sure this was a good thing. We argued a bit, but....I think he was genuinely trying to help. I didn’t trust him a damn bit, but at least he was trying.

I’ve been dancing around the point long enough, I think. Sure, the kid’s weird, you’re thinking. He’s got scars, so what? He makes you miserable just being around him? Probably some emo bastard. The whole predator gaze? Well, he was in for assault. No, the thing I’ve been avoiding, the thing that I’ll never forget....it was his ghost.

Way back when we were still bunkmates, he’d told me about how he died. How his parents were some kind of Ghostbuster freaks, and they built a portal to Hell in his basement. Okay, well, he called it the “Ghost Zone”, but who gives a fuck, honestly. Then he told me he was stupid enough to go in the damn thing, and got zapped six ways to Sunday. He said he’d died in that portal, and I didn’t want to believe him. I couldn’t. When you die, you die. That’s it. Game over. Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars. The idea that he could be some sort of.....half-alive, half-dead.....thing, well....I didn’t want to think about it. I’d already come to terms with my own mortality, and I did not need it shoved back in my face by some freaky-ass kid.

But then he showed me. God, it was horrible. I was expecting him to fail, just the delusions of his poor fucked up scrambled brains, some side effect of getting zapped to hell and back. Maybe, if it were true, to just go a bit translucent. I didn’t expect the monster.

It came in a flash of light. Two sparking rings of bright white electricity, so bright they burned to look at. When I managed to blink the spots outta my eyes, I almost thought I’d hit my head. Where Danny had been standing, a floating, glowing thing stood in his place. It was pale, washed out, with only its acid green eyes and tongue giving it any color at all. It wore a jumpsuit of some sort, with thick gloves and attached boots, like the biohazard guys on TV. It still had the scars though, even if they were glowing an ominous neon green. It hissed at me, like it was trying to speak, but I didn’t understand a word it said. When it turned that empty, hungry gaze on me, I panicked. I shoved it back against the wall, where it connected with a sickening splat. Blood oozed on the concrete, or at least, I assume it was blood. It was red and green and sizzled, like it was eating away at the stone. I think there’s still marks there, where the acid ate away at the concrete.

The thing wanted to eat me, I’m sure of it, but it seemed too dizzy. I think shoving it only made it more angry, but at that point the light came back. I looked away just in time, and when the light died down Danny was back. Still scrawny, still fleshy, still alive. Only now, I wasn’t so sure.

I haven’t seen another ghost since, and I think it’s for the best. I’ve done my research, I’ve heard about these....mediums. I know I can’t see them, not on this plane. Honestly, I’m better off for it I think. I don’t want to see them, or hear them, or even think about them again. 

I didn’t give you this statement to have you do something about it. I don’t even know if you have the ability to do anything, since all this happened in Illinois. I didn’t come all the way to some dingy spooky library in fucking London for a solution. I’ve made my peace. I just.....I needed to tell somebody. Not the cops, I don’t trust them as far as I could throw them. And not anyone else either, they’d think I’m a schizo freak, like that Weston kid. No, I’m perfectly happy laying low, and never thinking about Daniel Fenton again. And now that I have this off my chest and stored away in your freaky little library, I finally can.

--

Statement ends. Although he said he didn’t want us to do anything about his experience, we did reach out to Mr. Gale. He replied in no uncertain terms for us to leave him alone, and that he absolutely would not be giving a follow-up statement. I....can’t say I blame him, but really, half-dead? A teenager that could turn into some paranormal entity? It all seems rather....far fetched. 

Still, we did do some basic follow-up research on what we could. The Fentons do exist, as well as the town of Amity Park. I’d like to take everything about said town with a hefty dose of salt however, as it claims to be “The Most Haunted Place in America”. Tourist trap nonsense, if you ask me. Daniel Fenton was arrested in late summer of 2010, though those records are obviously sealed. Emily Grey declined to give a follow-up statement as well, and Owen Coulter seems to have unfortunately passed away in the intervening years. 

Still, I can’t help but think that Mr. Gale’s statement is....unusually detailed, especially as it concerns a boy he himself claims to have no close connection to.

End recording.

#the magnus archives #tma #danny phantom #pavii #ty writes #i had to get this out of my brain

[headoverhiddles]

Go On, Smile - Marilyn Manson x Reader

Synopsis: You and the band terrorize the local mall. AKA The totally fictional, fucked up origins of the samples from Cake and Sodomy. 

Notes: Portrait era! Warning for intentions of assault (not from Manson) and general immature debauchery. 

There's nothing left to do in this town.

You, your boyfriend, and a few members of his band that aren't still sleeping, are wandering around the small town they're set to perform tonight. The venue's gonna be tiny, just like the town, but at this point, any gig is a good gig. They're touring their asses off to promote their first studio album, an album nobody thought could possibly get produced. Lots of touring meant a few shitty stops (okay, a fair amount), and it meant days of either doing drugs in hotel rooms, pasting flyers around the city, or trying to do normal things.

"We could vandalize buses," Jeordie suggests. 

"There's only one bus that comes by here, once every hour at half past sharp," Pogo replies, staring at the palm of his hand. "I've been watching it."

"What about the mall?" you suggest.

"Does barbie want to go shopping?" Pogo mutters. You throw a crumpled up fast food bag from the ground at him.

Brian finally speaks up. "The mall's not a bad idea, actually. There might be makeup stores there, I can swipe some pancake shit for tonight's show."

Now that their fearless leader had spoken, everyone grunted their own form of agreement, getting up off the park bench.

Making it to the mall, Jeordie runs over to the directory. "I'm going to the candy store." Pogo seems to like that idea, and the two walk off. Brian calls after them.

"Assholes! Meet us back at the doors by six, we've got a show to get to!" He turns to you, taking your hand and rolling his eyes. "As if they don't get enough drugs. Now they need sugar highs too."

The two of you walk toward the drugstore to check out the makeup. Brian immediately heads over to the lip aisle, and starts pocketing some reds and plum colours.

"You know... I wouldn't mind a bit of candy," you tell him, swinging your hand with his, "A nice, big lollipop."

Brian licks his lips. "How would you lick it, baby? Swirl your tongue over the tip?"

"I'd get it all into my mouth, then when it hits the back of my throat, I'd swallow all that sweet sugar." Brian groans, starting to walk toward the candy store with you too, and you shrug. "But I'd settle for some sugar babies."

"You get the sugar babies," he smirks, "I'll get the sugar daddy."

"You are not a sugar daddy," you laugh. He scoffs.

"I could be!" He slides his hand down to feel up your ass. "I could be your daddy, babygirl."

"You're the same fucking age as me, and you've got no money."

He shakes his head. "Just give this record a little more time. Once Interscope pushes it and Portrait sells a billion copies, stadiums all over the world'll want Marilyn Manson to scare the crap out of their upstanding citizens. We'll be in demand! Then I can buy you all sorts of weird relics."

"Special," you smile, "Normal sugar daddies buy their babies diamonds. No, I get prosthetic hands and Eichmann's aluminum dentures."

"You love it." 

"I do," you giggle, and his eyes suddenly take on that mischievous glint.

"Photo booth."

"Bri, really?"

"We gotta go in, and do a porno shoot."

"What?!"

"There's nobody around but us. Come on baby, let's take really fucking dirty pictures."

"You know, they probably save these somewhere to print them, right?"

"Good, you can flash your tits, make the mall cop jack off. Here, we can record, and put it on the new single, Cake and Sodomy! It'll be perfect."

You blush, and he pulls you into the little tent in the middle of the pathetically empty strip mall. He sets up the camera, closes the curtain, and you keep giggling.

"You go here," he sets you up on mark like a master movie director, and you check the screen, making sure the star anatomy is properly centered. Then you reach down and pull your top over your head, unhooking your bra. Brian bites his bottom lip.

"Shit, you're gonna make me have to jack off." You knee him lightly in the crotch playfully.

"Focus on the shoot, Spielberg." He puts his hands over your breasts from behind, and you yelp.

"Jesus Christ, Brian!"

"What?!"

"At least warm your hands up a little. God, it's like being fondled by the Grim Reaper!”

“Geez--”

“Boobs are very delicate things, okay, they're not like dicks, you can't just whip them out and expect--"

"Okay, alright, there. There! All warmed up. You happy?" 

"Yes," you pout, and he kisses your cheek quickly, before darting forward to press capture and resuming his position. The first flash goes off, with Brian's hands grabbing your breasts. Second one begins to count down.

"What should we do, quick, what should we do?!" you squeal, laughing, and he looks around. He gets on his knees, bringing his face up, and sucks on your nipple for the third shot.

"Get your dick out," you urge, "Hurry, do it!"

He unzips his pants, and gets his dick as close as he can to the camera.

For the fifth shot, you get on your knees this time, holding Brian's dick and licking the tip as the last flash goes off. He presses play on his tape recorder, and you stand up, kissing him and making the sexiest noises you can.

"Alright.... mmm... mmmm!"

The two of you are laughing uncontrollably like children as you exit the booth with the printed strip. "Gorgeous," you nod, inspecting it.

"We're hot. I'd wanna fuck us," he says.

"God, same."

"We should use these as album art."

"Go for it," you shrug, "I'm sure it'd help sell all those billions of copies you promised." You bite your pinkie nail, looking back at the booth. "What if there were cameras that were watching inside, though? Like other cameras?" He massages your shoulders as you walk.

"I told you, there probably were. I already shoplifted, might as well be arrested for public indecency as well. It'll help my, uh... dangerous rock star image."

You groan, hiding your face in Brian's shoulder as you two keep walking.

You meet up with Jeordie and Pogo in front of the candy shop, Brian having shoved the strip down his back pocket. Jeordie has a bag full of sweets.

"What did you get?" you ask, burrowing inside it. He hands you some laffy taffy.

"I know you like this stuff."

"Jeord! I absolutely love you!"

"I know." He grins. "Hehe, Star Wars."

Just then, a big, hairy motherfucker of a security guard approaches you four quickly. He's an imposing figure, even on your 6'1 boyfriend.

"I promise I paid for all these gummy worms," Jeordie begins to tell him, but he looks at you and Brian.

"You the kids from the photo booth?"

You're too shocked to speak, so Brian, ever the antagonist, nods, sizing him up. "Yeah. Is there a problem?"

"You're going to have to come with me," the portly guard says sternly, and Brian shoves him off.

"Like hell, buddy." 

The guard starts to take something out of the back of his belt, so before either of you can find out what, you stop him.

"Wait! Wait, it's okay. We'll go." You lean in to Brian pleadingly. "The most he can do is give us a warning. Don't get your show banned here over some stupid, bloated mall guy with a bone to pick."

"Fine." You and Brian turn, noticing Jeordie and Pogo had fled the scene. "Great friends," Brian mutters, and the two of you start walking.

The guard leads you into a dark, grimy room down some steps under the mall's CVS, where you see a bunch of security camera feeds, and... your topless photos displayed on one of them. It smells strange down here, like spoiled chicken and vaseline. The guard sits down.

"So. You think creating pornography in public is funny, do you?"

Brian lets loose a stream of vitriol you knew had been simmering. "I do. In fact, I think it's the most goddamn hilarious thing I've ever done, you stuffy old dickhead!"

"Brian..."

"You wouldn't know much about that though, since you're probably so miserable working overtime for a mall who sees the local crackhead walk through maybe once every month or so and that's it--"

"Brian."

"--Getting paid to sit behind a desk in the dark, eat donuts and creep on people like a glorified cam-stalker--"

"Brian!"

"I bet you liked looking at my girlfriend's tits, huh? You like em, you fucking pervert? Why don't you--"

The guard finally has enough, and gets up out of his chair, walking behind Brian and tying a gag around his mouth. You go to stop him, but he grabs some duct tape, and sits you down, tying your wrists behind the chair. He does the same to Brian, restraining him. Shaking in fear, you sit still, paralyzed, as the guard sits back down in front of you two.

"You kids now and your alternative lifestyles. Think that acting outlandish and wearing black, Satanic clothing that never would've flown in my day is the way to give us civilized folk here in this good, god fearing little town the middle finger, huh?"

He sneers down at your leather miniskirt, and then to Brian's thick platform boots, looking him up and down. He's not really helping disprove the man's point about outlandish clothes, with his lipstick and shaved eyebrows. You think you see Brian fiddle with something in his back pocket, but your attention is directed back to the guard.

"Performing sexual acts in my mall. You won't get away with that."

"What are you gonna do?" you whimper.

"Put on a little show of my own," he starts to smile sadistically. You start to feel cold all over. He doesn't mean...

Brian's eyes close. Of course the two of you had found the Buffalo Bill of mall cops. Fucking lucky. Well. It'd be a story for the show.

The man sits back. "Smile."

Brian watches the guy closely. "You touch her..." your boyfriend warns. You struggle to pull your restraints free.

"Smile for me," the guard repeats, growing impatient.

You swallow. "Just let us go. We're really sorry about the photos!"

He finally stands up, cracking a fist. "Go on smile, you cunt!"

Brian jumps up, and though his wrists are still bound like yours, he turns around to grab you, pulling you both to the door. He spits the gag out. "Run."

The two of you dash out the side entrance to the mall, and keep running until you can't hear the guard yelling anymore.

Jeordie and Pogo come out of the woodwork, quickly gathering around you.

"Fuckin' redneck tyrant!" Brian shouts back, grabbing and tossing Jeordie's milkshake at the building. Jeordie stares in longing at the destroyed strawberry goop on the ground, debating if the 5 second rule worked for drinks too. Pogo takes a switchblade out to cut you two loose.

"I got the perfect sound bites on tape we can sample for Cake and Sodomy, of you moaning like a whore and that guy being a general asshole," Brian tells you, and you roll your eyes.

"After nearly being killed by a psychotic mall cop, that's all you have to say? Typical."

"What did you guys even do?!" Jeordie asks.

You dig out the photo strip from Brian's back pocket, and pass it to the other guys. Pogo nods, stroking his goatee like a critic.

"That's art."

#marilyn manson #marilyn manson x reader #reader x marilyn manson #sorta smutty #fluff? #brian warner #reader x brian warner #brian warner x reader #brian hugh warner #marilyn manson imagine #marilyn manson fanfiction #marilyn manson fandom #mansonite #mansonites #heavy metal #metal metal fanfiction #metal music #rock band #rock music #rock music fanfic

[rosedavid]

A donut shop au staring TJ Kippen and Cyrus Goodman. That's it. That's the prompt.

Thanks so much for the prompt :)

TJ has a secret.

It’s dumb, really. He doesn’t even know why he’s gone to so much effort to keep it hidden, yet here he is.

Today is Friday morning. Although TJ’s up earlier than he’d like to be, he’s slowly gotten used to it. Every Friday, the same thing happens. First, TJ wakes up before his whole family and gets ready for the day. He makes sure to bring his backpack with all his college work in it, so he has a pretense of doing something. Finally, he makes the short walk to the little donut shop on the corner and plops himself down by the window. To top if off, he orders a small coffee. 

This routine has been going on for about a month now. Of course, there’s a reason to all TJ’s madness, a very cute reason. It all began one day when TJ was walking home from school for the day, and he decided to take a different route past this donut shop. As he glanced at it, the first thing he noticed was the small, brunette boy sitting in the corner of the shop.

Soon, TJ figured out (through checking the store daily) that the boy only goes there on Friday mornings. Luckily, TJ’s free during that time. So, the next time he saw the boy in the donut shop, he decided to go inside and talk to him.

The boy is even more gorgeous when TJ’s not looking at him through a smudged window. A pair of rounded glasses sit on the bridge of his nose that slowly slide down as he works at his computer. His hair is fluffy, and his face scrunches together as he stares at the screen in front of him. His eyes are a smooth, dark brown that light up amber in the sun.

TJ couldn’t approach him that time. He thought maybe next time it would be better. He was wrong, again. Now, today is TJ’s third attempt at conversing with him, and so far, it isn’t going well at all.

The boy enters the shop around the same time as usual, heading up to the counter to order a donut. Meanwhile, TJ watches the boy over the rim of his computer. He sees the brunette smile at the cashier, teeth flashing. His fingers reach out for the change, and TJ realizes his nails are painted a pale pink color. Right before he reaches for his donut, he nudges his glasses up a bit farther on his nose. TJ thinks he’s in love.

TJ also found the perfect seat to admire the boy from without seeming too creepy. He’s just far enough that he can see the boy nibble on his food as he types, but too far away to be noticed. Since TJ’s tried to work up the courage to talk to him, the boy has always sat at his same table. Today, he doesn’t.

Instead, he picks a table right beside TJ. Immediately, TJ casts his eyes back down at his blank computer screen, cheeks burning at the thought of his crush seeing him. He continues to stare down at his computer for a while as he takes sips of his hot coffee. Finally, he works up the courage to look up at the boy again. When he does, he realizes with horror that the boy is looking right back at him.

A small, involuntary squeak sounds in the back of TJ’s throat as he forces his eyes to his lap. He saw TJ staring at him. Now he probably think’s TJ’s some sort of weird stalker, for sure.

A tap on his shoulder. TJ brings his head back up.

“Were you watching me?” The boy asks, lips pursed.

He doesn’t appear to be angry or freaked out. In fact, he almost seems amused. It probably helps that TJ can feel how red his face is right now.

TJ sputters, “No! I’m not! I just, I mean I’ve seen you around—”

“Oh, so you’ve been watching me for a while.”

“Yes, wait, well no! Let me explain,” TJ gasps, running a hand through his hair from the stress of the situation. “I’m not a stalker, I swear!”

The boy’s stern expression morphs into a much softer, sweeter one. His lips quirk into a smile, and he begins to giggle. “I know you’re not, TJ.”

TJ’s jaw drops. “H-how do you know my name?”

The boy pulls out a seat at his table and sits backward in it, arms folded atop the backrest. This is the closest the boy’s ever been to TJ, and it makes him swoon. Up close, TJ can observe the more minute details of his face; the mole hovering on his cheek bone, the dark, long eyelashes accentuating his large iris’s, and the slight curl of his hair on the ends.

“Oh please, you’re the captain of the basketball team, practically everyone knows your name,” He explains with an eye roll.

“You don’t look like the type to play or watch sports.”

“You’d be correct, but my best friend plays on the girls’ basketball team who usually play right after you, so I’ve seen you around.”

He’s seen him play basketball. Suddenly, TJ focuses on all the possible embarrassing moments he’s experienced on the court that this boy may have seen. Did he see when he tripped over the stray ball a few weeks ago? Or did he see the time he totally failed to score a slam dunk?

“I’ve seen you here before, too,” Cyrus mentions, interrupting his internal panic. “You must like donuts a lot.”

Not thinking, TJ mumbles out, “Actually, I hate donuts.”

“Blasphemy! You can’t hate donuts, no one hates donuts!”

“Well I guess I’m no one then, because I cannot stand them.”

At this point, they’re both smiling at each other.

The brunette frowns for a moment before asking, “If you hate donuts, then why are you always at the donut shop when I’m here?”

He’s been caught. What does he even say? There’re probably a million excuses he could give. I like the coffee better here. The ambience here is good to get my work done. I know one of the employees. All of these reasons fly out of his mind the minute this boy opens his mouth, leaving TJ sitting there stammering like an idiot.

“Well, uh, I—” TJ gulps. It’s now or never. “I came for you, honestly.”

“That actually does sound a little stalkerish,” The boy admits, but he’s still smiling.

“Sorry, I just…you’re just really cute,” TJ blurts out.

At his admission, the brunette ducks his head, probably embarrassed by TJ’s feelings for him. A lump forms in TJ’s throat, and his fingers squeeze the fabric of his hoodie like it’s a stress ball. Finally, the boy brings his head back up, and TJ can obviously see the blush adorning his prominent cheeks.

“You’re cute, too,” the boy says, clearing his throat. “But there’s one problem.”

This is it. He totally has a boyfriend already. TJ is going to get rejected, and this time it won’t be because the guy is straight, it will be because he’s taken. TJ prepares himself to apologize and hastily retreat.

With a completely expressionless face, the boy says to him, “I don’t think I can date a guy who doesn’t like donuts.”

TJ giggles at him, and his laughs cause the other to start laughing alongside him.

“I’m Cyrus, by the way,” he introduces between breathy laughter.

“TJ—oh crap, you knew that already…” TJ snorts.

Cyrus smiles and gathers his stuff, moving it all over to TJ’s table. He bites into his donut, crumbs speckling his face. It’s adorable, even if the sight of eating a donut makes TJ’s nose wrinkle up in disgust.

“For our first date, I’m taking you to get these amazing pumpkin donuts,” Cyrus states. “I swear that I will make you like donuts if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

TJ’s mouth parts in surprise. “First date?”

This time, it’s Cyrus’s turn to act shy. “I mean, if that’s okay with you?”

“Yes! I mean, cool. Although you’ll never succeed in changing my mind on donuts.”

Cyrus sticks his tongue out at him. Both of their hands rest on the tabletop, inching closer and closer together until their fingers touch lightly.

“You’re ridiculous, TJ. But I’m glad you stalked me, or I would never have worked up the nerve to talk to you.”

“I didn’t stalk you!”

Their fingers interlace fully now. Cyrus’s glasses slip down his nose again, and this time TJ reaches instinctively to push them up with his other hand. His finger brushes the side of Cyrus’s face on accident, and it sends shudders through them both.

And if on their first date a few days later, TJ happens to like donuts a bit more than before, it certainly isn’t because of the cute boy he met at a donut shop.

#tyrus #andi mack #tyrus fanfic #cyrus goodman #tj kippen #fanfiction #answered #asks #theobligatedklutz

[gayvink9]

Just another day as a Barista.

Yet another drabble for @connorsmarkus because my poor dude is having a time(tm).

-----

You could say that Markus didn't have much of an interesting life. He went to college, painted as a hobby and worked a part time job as a barista at a local coffee shop to help him get on his feet, though he had a good bit of help already from his father. He appreciated that fact, of course, but he wanted to spread his wings and earn his own money.

It had only been a summer job at first but now he'd been working here for two years, and honestly, he loved all of his customers. Especially his regulars. Markus had learned their orders by heart and listened to them gladly. His manager had heard nothing but compliments towards him, which had led to multiple raises plus an offer for a higher position. Markus refused. He liked where he was.

Though he had been reamed out by both Gavin and North. He had to explain to them over and over again that he was perfectly fine where he was.

It was just a quiet summer morning. It was already heating up and Markus was just designing the chalk sign to go outside for the day, which was to offer their new iced coffee flavours. There were a few people already settled inside with either tea or coffee, either chatting, reading or working. It was peaceful.

Markus was just about finished the sign when the bell on the door chimed and he looked up to greet the person who walked in. He saw a freckled and pale skinned man stroll inside the coffee shop. Someone he'd never seen before, which was a little bit of a surprise. The second thing he noticed about him was the fact that there was a huge snake around his neck.

Oookay.

"How can I help you today?" Markus asked as the other male approached the counter, eyeing the brown and black snake, which said man had started to stroke.

"Um… Can I get a large caramel iced coffee? Extra ice?"

"Sure. That will be three-fifty," Markus responded and the male tapped his card. He handed him his receipt and without a thought, the next words just flowed out of his mouth.

"Aren't you afraid that thing's gonna strangle you?"

Soft brown eyes blinked at him and then his customer started to laugh. Markus noted how beautiful that sound actually was.

"What? No! Timothy here is just hanging on. He'd never try to constrict me," he said, petting the snake again, which was just indeed hanging off this man's neck and seemed to be content there. "The only thing he would ever hurt is his food."

Markus nodded. "Huh."

He turned away to make Snake Man's coffee and in a few minutes, he finished it off with whipped cream and caramel drizzle. Markus turned back and set the drink on the counter. "Here you are."

"Thanks. Hey. Would you like to hold Timothy?"

"What?"

Now. Markus wasn't at all afraid of snakes. He liked going to the zoo and seeing all the different snakes that they had. He liked garter snakes and those corn snakes he would occasionally see in the pet store if he was picking something up for North's cat. He had never in his life, however, held one. He had never asked to. Never been asked to. He just assumed that would that.

But, here comes this rather cute guy, walking into his coffee shop and asking if he wanted to hold his snake. Good lord.

"If you're scared, I understand, just thought I'd ask."

"No! No, I'm not scared. Yeah. Sure, I'd like to hold him. Just give me a sec."

Markus turned back away and headed to the back. Another barista, a scruffy looking guy with a scar across his nose, popped out and Markus came back out after him, no longer sporting his sky blue apron or nametag. This Snake Man grinned wide and they walked outside to the front, just in case.

"So. This is Timothy, as I said. He's a ball python," the male said and Markus nodded as he was handed the snake.

He stared at it, watching it slither in his hands and up his arm. 

"What's your name then?" Markus asked, continuing to watch the snake.

"Connor," his companion responded with a soft chuckle. "And you're Markus, right? Unless that's a fake name on your nametag."

"Yeah. My name's Markus. I'm not clever enough to make up a fake name."

Markus let the snake crawl up his arm to his shoulder and his neck, Timothy curling up there. "Woah…"

"It feels good, doesn't it?" Connor asked and Markus hummed.

"I wouldn't say good. It feels weird, though."

Markus looked to Connor and he let the other man gently take his snake back and he smiled warmly. As he stood there, he really noticed how those freckles perfectly lay on the male's skin. Also how his wavy brown hair curled over onto his forehead. Wow. He was absolutely adorable.

"You wanna stop staring at me?" Connor snapped, but Markus caught the playful tone in his voice and he chuckled.

"Oh, sorry. I couldn't help it. Not every day I see a cute boy with a snake."

"Cute, huh?" Connor cooed and he smirked, digging into his pocket and pulling out a rather worn and faded looking pen, taking Markus' hand and writing his number down on his wrist. "Maybe you can meet my other pets later on."

Markus was shocked, but he wasn't complaining. Taking his hand back, he grinned. "I look forward to it."

Connor nodded and the man grinned himself before sipping at his iced coffee and he shrugged. "I should be heading off. See you later, Markus."

"Bye, Connor."

Markus turned away to head back into the coffee shop, feeling like he was on cloud nine. Gavin, from behind the counter where he was stocking some donuts, gave him a knowing smirk. 

Guess he had to give the details to his friend first and then text Connor after.

#rk1000 #rk1k #dbh #detroid become human #dbh connor #dbh markus #conkus #your cliche coffee shop au #because ya boy had to do it to 'em

[sourwolfstories]

sourwolfstories top 10

co-workers au

1. Glazed and Confused by wishingonalightningbolt

or, In Which Love is More Important than Donuts.

Stiles is a forensic tech with the San Diego FBI. He thinks he's been fairly lucky, since he's never had his life threatened, sustained few injuries, and only has to work with his least favorite agent every once in a while.

And then all of that changes.

2. (Insert Cheesy Title Here) by Vellenox

Derek is a socially awkward, struggling writer who works in his parent's grilled cheese restaurant, barely able to cope with the fact that this is his boring, simple life. A single blog changes all of that. A single post on thegirlwhoknewtoomuch.wp.com about how divine the Hale Melt's grilled cheese sandwiches are ensures that the store is bombarded with an enormous amount of new customers. They hire on Stiles Stilinski to help out - he's loud and he's spastic and he gets along with Laura eerily too well - but somehow an unlikely friendship forms between Derek and Stiles. With Stiles's help Derek learns to overcome his confidence issues and from that point on Derek's life finally starts to come together.

3. Can’t Take The Heat? by Ilovesocks_24

“Hi, I’m Stiles, and what I have for you today is…”

“Stop, just stop.” Grumpy Eyebrows interrupted. “That is honestly the worst looking Pasta Primavera I have ever seen. I don’t even want to eat it, it looks so bad.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes. No one insulted his creamy bacon carbonara without even trying it. And no one insulted his creamy bacon carbonara after they tried it either.

“It’s actually a Creamy Bacon Carbonara, asshole,” Stiles snapped. “And for the record, it’s supposed to look like that.” Or the one where Stiles is a new sous chef at Full Moon Steakhouse and Derek is the Gordon Ramsay of all head chefs. So of course they fall in love.

4. Historically Inaccurate by asocialfauxpas

Stiles is surprisingly okay with all the weird shit that goes on at Beacon City Historic Ghost Town - ghost lights, howling, pianos playing on their own. Having to work closely with the surly blacksmith is another matter.

5. Care and Feeding by otter

Derek desperately needs to fire the newest volunteer at the kitten nursery. Mostly because the guy keeps saying things.

6. Be the Life of the Party by Mimiminaj

His father’s face suddenly turned serious again.

“He is twenty four though, son. I don’t care if his smile shits rainbows and his laugh births puppies. You are his employee. It would be bad to cross those lines during your first job. Or ever.”

Stiles’ face hit the table.

“I hate my life,” he moaned.

Scott laughed cheerfully. “Don’t worry sheriff! It sounds to me like the entire cinema staff feels the same. Stiles doesn’t stand a chance with Derek!”

“Scratch that,” Stiles mumbled into the wood. “I hate you two more.”

Or – Stiles starts working at the movie theater. His boss is Derek.

7. We’ll Still Have Summer by allyasavedtheday

He’s too busy waxing poetic in his own head about the surly – dreamy – dude holding the sign for the hotel to notice Scott already making his way over. He pauses halfway when he realises Stiles isn’t following him, turning around and eyeing Stiles curiously, “Dude, come on, the guy’s waiting.”

Stiles snaps himself into action and pushes his cart carrying his suitcases over to where Scott’s introducing himself to Stiles’ future husband.

“-And this is Stiles,” Scott is saying just as Stiles arrives next to him.

“I’m Derek,” the guy replies gruffly, folding the sign up and tucking it under his arm. “I’ll be taking you back to the hotel.”

8. Stay, Maybe by toraten

Stiles meets Derek Hale on a business trip and immediately gets attached to the man's surly, overworked attitude. Luckily - surprisingly - the attraction is mutual. Once they get back home Stiles figures that it's at least worth a shot, right? So he asks Derek out.

In which their relationship has a deadline, and Stiles gets more and more anxious the closer that deadline comes.

9. The Office by stilinskisparkles

“Sure, I like him,” Derek scowls right at the camera, “We’re friends.” He blinks, expression suddenly going hopeful, “Why, did he say something?”

*

“I have worked at Beacon Hills Office Supplies for two and a half years,” Stiles pretends to hang himself with his tie, glances out of the conference room to where Derek is signing for a package with a suspicious look on his face. “It’s not all bad, I guess?”

10. for science (this has nothing to do with science) by ericaismeg

"I bought my friend a neon pink dildo as a gag gift but I accidentally got the presents mixed up and gave it to you instead and now I have to awkwardly explain what happened” AU

Honorable Mentions

Around the Bend by lupinus, uraneia

The first time Derek catches sight of the new yoga instructor, Stiles is in the middle of showing a class how to do downward-facing dog. Derek walks into a wall.

Things don’t exactly improve from there.

Derek can't stop staring at Stiles, the bendy new yoga instructor at his family's gym. Stiles thinks Derek's a repressed homophobe who hates Stiles for making him want the D. They fall in love.

Derek Hale From HR by nogitsune_lichen

"Derek? Fancy seeing you here! I was just-er, getting a new chair. I think mine has a squeaking problem so...yeah I'm just gonna take a chair and--"

The man closed the door with a soft click before holding up the Captain America sticky note with Stiles' patented chicken scratch handwriting on it. Stiles gnawed on his lip, trying and failing to come up with some sly excuse. Instead he hung his head in defeat when Derek didn't so much as say anything or make a move.

"Enough playing around; I dig you, and it's your last day. Meet me in the abandoned closet at one," Derek quoted, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Stiles sighed, "okay not the best choice of words, but it got you here didn't it?"

"Yes it did," Derek nodded before adding, "and I dig you too by the way."

#sterek #sterek fic rec #sterek fanfic #sterek fanfiction #co workers #co workers au #top 10

[miraclejune]

HERO’S SOUP: Chapter 1

Antique Shop

Sunlight seeped through the curtain. Painting the white walls with vivid hues of orange and yellow. A figure groaned, rustling underneath the duvet. Sleeping wasn't really an option.

He sat up from the bed. Fluffy brown hair ruffling as he did so. With a wave of his hand, the curtains close, engulfing the room with darkness. He connected his phone to the charger, reminding himself not to spend his 'sleeping' hours playing that stupid farming game.

Lifting himself up from the bed he made his way towards the shower, not bothering looking at his faint reflection on the bathroom mirror. After a quick shower, he threw on a black shirt and wore a black hoodie over it, slipped on some denim jeans and walked out the room.

After tying the knot of his sneakers, he continues downstairs. Taking his time switching the lights on and making sure the heater was at the right temperature. Of course by doing so he had to search the weather and compute the right temperature to balance out the freezing temperature outside. 

As he was walking to the counter, he noticed a pool of red liquid on the floor. Panic sets in. He disappeared abruptly and came back with a mop and a bucket full of water, casually cleaning up the mess.

"I need to get me one of those anti-spill tumblers. This is the 3rd time this week this has happened."

Pretty sure you have a gentle grasp on what's going on. No, he didn't murder someone. No, he's not a psychopath. No, he doesn't work at a hospital.

Any guesses? While you try to figure it out, let's get back to the story.

The smell of old stuff and books somehow masked the scent of blood. He was relieved that opening up an antique shop has benefits. Aside from the money of course.

After cleaning up, he disposed of the 'evidence'. Went around the counter towards the door and flipped the sign “We’re Open!” 

He sighed, loud enough for the voices in his head to hear how boring his life is. Although he's still surprised by the fact that he has a lot of customers, it never occurred to him that people these days still consider buying old and vintage stuff even for a hefty price.

As soon as he placed his hands on the counter, the bell rang, indicating a customer. The faint smell of cherries tickled his nose. Cherry shampoo. He hummed, pushing himself to the door. Momentarily, he stopped in his tracks. There was no one there. 

Usually people would stand there like meerkats peering over tall cabinets to see if the predator is out there to hunt them and take their money in exchange for a vinyl record they won't even have a purpose for but in this rare occasion, no one was there.

He made his way around the sections of antique clocks and saw a tall figure with his or her back facing towards him. “What can I do for you?” the customer yelped and spun around facing him.

“I’m sorry for startling you.” His voice was low and casual. The guy looked at him with widened eyes, shaking his head vigorously. 

"It’s okay!” the guy smiled.

“So, what are you trying to find?” again, he asked, eager to finish the transaction and be left alone. The guy's curious eyes scattered around the place. He hummed. “I’m not really trying to find anything.” the owner raised his eyebrows at him. 

“Oh.” he was about to turn his back when the guy spoke again, “How long have you been here, sir?'' The sudden curiosity annoyed him. But he had to make a good impression on his customers.

“I’ve been here for quite a while now.” the guy nodded and proceeded to look around. “Huh, that’s weird. I have never seen this place before, and that’s funny because I was born and grew up around this area.”

“Well, it’s not really an eye-catching place so you might have never noticed it.” okay, that was stupid. A shop with big glass windows that sells vintage stuff and has a ton of customers each day is NOT noticeable? A whole ass store doesn't normally pop up that instantly! He has to come up with a much better excuse.

Well, it's too late.

He tried to sound as casual as he could. The guy shrugged and gave him a smile.

“Maybe you’re right!” ok, this dude is dumb as rocks. 

"Why don’t you look around? Maybe you’ll find something you’d like.” the guy nodded.

Before he can even escape the scene (temporarily). The guy spoke again.

"Oh! I'm Jeongin by the way."

"Chan." He briefly shook the guy's hand, turning to his heel quietly. 

‘This is gonna be a long day…’

-

It’s been weeks since Jeongin first visited the antique shop. He completely forgot about the fact that the store suddenly popped out of nowhere. Chan was a bit bothered by his daily presence but eventually got used to it. He found himself waiting for the guy.

“Chan! I brought you donuts!” the familiar voice resonated around the shop. Chan was busy tending to a customer, he excused himself and shouted back at Jeongin. “Hang on, Jeongin. I have a customer.” he knew the guy would just walk towards the counter and sit there and wait for him. 

The bell rang again, Chan almost groaned, he hadn't rested until this morning except for the lunch break. Customers have been in and out for the past 6 hours. “I’ll get it, don't worry!” Jeongin shouted, racing to the door. Chan was thankful, although he doesn’t express it quite often.

Jeongin has been helping him for almost a month now. The guy was convinced that Chan wasn’t really a people person, that's why he didn’t hire other employees. Partially, he got it right. Jeongin wanted to change that, so he started coming into the shop after his classes and on his free day. He can clearly tell the shop owner was annoyed but he pushed further, until 1 week after his frequent visits, Chan offered him some tea. Feeling accomplished, he started coming into the shop even on weekends.

Jeongin was practically an unofficial employee at Chan’s antique shop.

He made his way to the customer, following them from behind. Answering their questions about the products. After almost a month of working there, he already knows almost all the vintage stuff, where they are located and how to price them. Not unlike the first time he made a beeline around the shop and ended up confusing both himself and the customer.

“Oh that, Sir, is a locket from 1882. It belonged to a farmer who was deeply in love with this rich woman. He sold half of his land just to buy that and gave it to the lady.” the customer was in awe and mentioned something about his wife liking vintage jewelry. Jeongin beamed at him. “Well isn’t that great! She would love this!” that was genuine happiness. Chan gave himself an imaginary pat on the back. ‘I have trained him well’ he thought.

Jeongin handed the customer the paper bag with a small box in it containing the necklace. With a bow and a smile, he thanked the customer. He didn’t even notice Chan creeping up beside him. “Nice work.” he flinched. He could never get used to Chan just popping out of nowhere inside the shop. It’s like he teleports. 

“Thanks!”

The customer Chan was tending to, wanted to be left alone so he went back to the counter. When he heard the customer call, he pushed Jeongin back into his chair. “I’ll get it.” earning a soft smile from the guy. Chan made his way to the customer to answer his question about the vase he got in China or Japan? Honestly, he can’t keep track anymore.

Jeongin watched Chan’s figure vanish into the clutter of stuff. He smiled. The guy was clearly lonely here. And he felt good about himself, making Chan befriend him, although the man hasn’t officially said it and he kinda annoyed him into this so-called ‘friendship’. 

His eyes rested on the flask that was sprawled onto the counter. He stood up to see if it was open. Glad that it was sealed shut, he arranged the container just to make sure it didn't spill. But curiosity drowned him.

This was the first time he ever saw that container on the counter, or even around the shop. He really didn’t take Chan as someone who drinks. He started turning the lid. Chan, on the other hand, hadn't noticed what Jeongin was doing because he was busy explaining to the customer. Jeongin expected to be welcomed by the strong smell of alcohol, with a final twist he removed the cap of the flask and took a whiff. His eyes went wide, and the flask slipped from his hands, falling onto the floor with a loud clang. Painting the marble floor in a deep shade of red.

Chan’s head snapped towards the counter right after Jeongin opened the lid. Chan prayed to his ancestors, wanting the boy to not try to see the contents of the flask. “Um, excuse me?” the customer piped, waving his hand in front of Chan’s face. Chan faced the guy and apologized; he tried his best to answer the question. If he was capable of sweating, he might already be standing in a pool of it.

A loud sound made him panic. With the blink of an eye, Chan vanished into thin air. Startling the customer.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was low and deadly. Jeongin fell onto his butt with the sudden figure of Chan standing in front of him. He swore to himself that the man just magically appeared. With a surprised face, his gaze went back and forth from Chan and the mess he just made.

The customer screamed and started running towards the door. Chan snapped his hands, the door locked by itself and the blinds were also pulled down. He did that while staring right into the boy’s eyes like he was ordering him not to move a muscle. He slowly made his way to the customer, leaving Jeongin in a trance. 

“Forget.” the customer's face was stoned. Again, with a snap, the door flew open. “Leave.” The customer slowly walked out of the room. With the loud thud of the door, he was back to his senses. Clearly forgetting a whole chunk of his day as he walked home.

Chan sighed and popped back in front of the fox.

Chan noticed the guy’s erratic heartbeat, but that didn’t stop him from moving closer to him. His mind was clouded by anger. Jeongin should’ve never visited him here. He shouldn't have entertained him. He should’ve just pushed him away. He even warned the boy multiple times to not touch his stuff. Chan felt betrayed and at the same time, he was mad at himself for letting the boy soften him up.

Jeongin’s breathing was hitched and he could feel every muscle in his body stiffen. He couldn’t move because he was terrified. “Wa--you---” with a small voice he tried to make out the words: What are you?. Chan’s face appeared right in front of him. Jeongin noticed the absence of his usual soft stare. Chan slowly opened his mouth. The boy saw how 2 large fangs grew from Chan’s canine teeth. And at that moment he knew…

He’s gonna be killed by a vampire.

_

“CHRISTOPHER!!” a loud voice appeared out of nowhere. Jeongin still couldn’t move, he heard the voice, but his attention was focused on the situation right in front of him. There was a flash, out of reflex he covered his face with his arms and braced for impact. When the bright light vanished, he slowly peeled his eyes open. Chan has vanished in front of him. His wide eyes looked around, searching for the vampire.

“Jeez, you can never control your goddamn temper---Yang Jeongin, right?” a tall boy appeared right in front of him, his hand outstretched. Jeongin’s gaze slowly lifted up to the unknown person’s face. His mouth went agape.

“Aren’t you gonna take my hand?” Seungmin’s voice had a hint of annoyance. Not waiting for the boy to respond, he withdrew his hand and started waving it. Jeongin was suddenly lifted up in the air and with a soft thud, his feet were back on the floor. He never thought that one of his seniors in university would be saving his ass. Maybe because he doesn’t know what the fuck is happening.

Chan found himself laying on his bed with a gag on his mouth. With muffled screams, he easily broke free from the shackles on both his feet and hands. His eyes were blood-red as he looked at the door. “That fucking witch.” within a millisecond he appeared right in front of the scene. His frantic eyes found Jeongin facing the witch with a bewildered look. Chan stomped his way towards them.

Jeongin recoiled at the sight of Chan, his eyes were red, fangs were shown, and he also noticed his claws. The sight terrified him. Never in his life did he imagine encountering something like this. Sure, he believed in some fairy tales because they wouldn’t exist if they weren’t true. But he never begged to see them in real life. Oh god, he wished he never even encountered any of those… those monsters. But here he is, standing in front of Seungmin, which seems to be somewhat magical and Chan who is a blood-sucking monster.

Seungmin saw how the guy's face grew pale. He sighed and turned to Chan. Their faces are only centimeters apart. His expression didn’t change. “Who the fuck do you think you are to sto-” Seungmin held up his finger and lifted Chan of his feet. The vampire’s eyebrows furrowed as he struggled in the air. “Put me down, you witch!”

Seungmin looked the devil right in the eyes before sighing. He chuckled a little, making Jeongin more uneasy with the situation. Seungmin clearly knows Chan is beyond mad and now he still has the audacity to chuckle, Jeongin prepared for the worst. “It still doesn’t make sense how useless a powerful vampire like you becomes feeble when being levitated in the air by magic.” Seungmin laughed a bit loudly, making Jeongin shake in fear. He tried stealing a glance from Chan but was stopped by the witch.

“Don’t, he can kill you with his stare.” hearing the seriousness behind Seungmin's voice, he  nodded and looked away. The witch was exaggerating of course. 

Seungmin turned to Chan. The vampire’s expression was terrifying, even he earned goosebumps just by taking a small glance. He knew Chan could easily control him, so he avoided the vampire’s gaze. “You have to calm down.” the vampire continued to growl in a low tone. Jeongin was still shaking but he felt bad about what happened. It was all his fault if he had not opened that flask, both him and Chan would have been enjoying the fresh donuts he got from the bakery. Jeongin looked down on his bag, thinking to himself that they’re probably soggy by now.

Seungmin waited for the vampire to calm down. Chan, on the other hand, had no plan on doing what the stupid witch said. Seungmin furrowed his eyebrows.

“I’ve never seen you this angry whenever a human finds out you’re a vampire. What’s up with you?” Chan's eyes faltered. Seungmin had a point. He continued to soften up a bit until Seungmin finally let his feet touch the ground.

The witch turned to Jeongin who was still standing and catching his breath. He gave him a casual smile while putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “This will not hurt.” 

“What would not hurt? What are you planning on doing to me?” Jeongin looked at both of them with wide eyes. Seungmin gave his shoulder a light squeeze.

“We’re just gonna have to remove all your memories starting from when you entered this shop up to the present.” That made sense.

Jeongin accepted his fate. He knew what was gonna happen, he felt sad and defeated. Chan was the only person who was nice to him. He knew the man was clearly annoyed at first by his frequent visits, but Chan never said anything that would offend the boy. He didn’t push him away. It was a shame that their friendship would end like this.

All of a sudden, the door shot open, alarming all three of them. Chan knew he locked the door but who would be powerful enough to bring down an antique door sealed shut by magic. His query was answered when Woojin came dashing through the store with a strong smell of blood that was visible when he arrived in front of the counter. His eyes were full of worry and anger as he looked into the eyes of the vampire. 

Chan's displeasure towards the boy had vanished. “Woojin…” those were the only words that were exchanged between the two. Woojin held back his tears and approached Chan, ignoring the two unknown presences watching the scene unfold. Chan's eyes traveled from the man’s face to his bloody shirt. “It’s Jisung…” Chan's head snapped back to Woojin’s face. His face was stern and serious. He didn’t need an explanation. Both sprinted towards the door, leaving a baffled witch and Jeongin.

Seungmin let out an exasperated sigh and gripped the guy’s wrist before dragging him outside the shop, shouting “REALLY CHAN? WEREWOLVES??!!” as he did so.

#straykids #stray kids au #stray kids #woojin #bangchan #changbin #seungmin #jeongin #hyunjin #jisung #felix #minho #lee know #stray kids oneshot #stray kids imagines #stray kids paranormal #paranormal #werewolves au #vampire au #kitsune au #fox au #stray kids story

[nutbrain]

How to Block a Number

So funny story, I actually wrote this before @kiruuuuu released her Ivan fic for recruitverse (which as you can see I’m simply enamored with and highly recommend y’all read) but I never got around to posting this. So here it is :) There’s a few bits of the Spetsnaz, but most of it is centered around Ivan.

It was a quiet day when Shay approached Ivan.

“How do you block a phone number?” Random questions were no strange thing from Shay as his mind quickly jumped gaps from one topic to another, but Ivan didn’t think he liked where this was going.

“Depends on cell service. Why you need to block number?” Ivan hauled himself up from the reclined position he’d been in on his bed. It was just the two of them at the moment, the other three doubtlessly still being run into the ground by a furious Blackbeard after they’d replaced all of his shields with plastic wrap and wire. Shay bounced awkwardly from foot to foot.

“Well, I got a text from this one guy that said Jojo gave him my number because he’d thought we’d be good together. He was nice enough at first, but then it got…weird? I don’t know, it’s probably stupid.” Shay was playing with the bottom of his sweatshirt, but finally looked up, embarrassed and somehow expecting to receive judgement from the large Russian.

“Not stupid. What did he say that make you uncomfortable?” Ivan slid his phone away and made sure to give Shay his full attention. The other man maybe twenty-four, but he was still innocent to many of the things that happened in the world.

“I don’t know. It’s hard to say. But he kept asking about my age and didn’t believe I was as old as I said. Mentioned it was really hot that I looked underage and I…it just made me feel kinda gross, ya know? But don’t tell Jojo, I don’t want to hurt his feelings because this didn’t work out.” Ivan highly doubted that Jojo had passed along Shay’s number, especially given the German’s growing attachment for Shay. However, Ivan would respect Shay’s wishes and nodded.

“Give phone. I will get number blocked in town.” Shay smiled gratefully, visibly relieved as he passed over the phone. Ivan knew full well he didn’t need to head into town to get the number blocked, but after procuring the passcode and waiting for Shay to leave, Ivan opened up the messages. He didn’t snoop in his other texts, but quickly found the contact that Shay was upset by. The last message exchange had involved a variety of eggplants and water droplets, to which Shay had merely responded to with a question mark. Whether or not the Brit actually knew what they meant was inconsequential. Ivan scrolled up a bit to see that the other man, marked ‘Jojo’s friend’, had been pestering him to visit him in his home. Ivan did not like that.

He scrolled back down and typed in the text bar ‘I’d like to come over. You home?’ Not even a minute passed until the stranger responded with the address followed by ‘See, I knew you’d come around eventually babe.’ and ‘I’ll make us some drinks, though you look too young to buy alcohol ;)’ Ivan did not like this one bit. He was now convinced that this had been Jojo’s creepy date that kept asking about Shay’s age. Jojo had not been amused and promptly kicked him to the curb, but apparently not before he’d lifted Shay’s number.

Now that he’d gotten an address, his next task was to get into town. After throwing on civvies, Ivan wandered to the Spetsnaz quarters and knocked on the door. Fuze opened after a minute and quirked an eyebrow.

“Is Glaz here?” he queried in Russian. The Uzbek nodded and stepped aside to allow him in. Fuze pointed him to Glaz’s room and trudged back to the living room couch. Ivan was used to the operator having very little to say and appreciated the efficiency of it all. After knocking and getting a response, Ivan stepped into Glaz’s quarters and glanced around. The walls were adorned with colorful paintings, vibrant against the otherwise boring walls. The bed was neatly made, and aside from the giant paint covered sheet on the floor, everything was incredibly orderly.

“Good afternoon Ivan. Did you need something?” Glaz asked in Russian as he turned his attention away from the canvas he was currently working on, filling it with bright yellows and oranges. Ivan didn’t know what it was supposed to be just yet, but trusted the sniper had a plan to bring everything together eventually.

“Yes. I was wondering if I could please borrow your car? I have a few errands to run and it’d be easier to drive than take a taxi. I’d be happy to pick up anything you’d need while I was there.” Glaz hummed, wiping of his hands before standing up and fishing his keys out of a glass bowl on his dresser.

“As long as you don’t scratch it up.” He said teasingly as he tossed Ivan the keys, “If you have time, would you be willing to pick up some paint for me? I’m nearly out of yellow.” Glaz smiled, gesturing to his canvas, and opened up a drawer, pulling out his paint set to show Ivan the brand name and what the tubes looked like. Ivan noted that Glaz was also running low on several other colors, though none nearly as low as the yellow. The sniper fished out some money to cover the cost after Ivan agreed and wished him good luck getting his errands done. On his way out, he nodded to Fuze who gave him a short wave before turning back to the TV.

Finding Glaz’s car was simple enough and he ran a quick check to make sure no one had slit the tires or dinged it while it sat. Once he started it, Ivan ensured the brakes worked; Kapkan had recently upset Jager and he wouldn’t put it past the mechanic to try and get revenge. Though Ivan doubted the revenge would be anything this extreme, he also was well aware that Bandit was extremely vindictive, especially when it came to teammates. With his ability to stop the car once it started moving intact, Ivan put the address into the GPS of his phone. It wasn’t a long drive, but boring; the radio was playing nothing good, so he switched over to the CD player. The only two discs were The Cranberries and Three Days Grace. Ivan thought this combination of music was strange, but had no doubt that saying something about it was a bad idea.

While he was still driving through a relatively empty road listening to Dolores O'Riordan belt out “Zombie,” Shay’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Ivan tugged it out, careful to keep an eye on the road. ‘Can’t wait to see you gorgeous’ was displayed on the screen, soon followed by another message which contained an image. Ivan debated opening it, but his morbid curiosity got the best of him. He regretted it instantly and pulled a face; this was worse than seeing the nudes on Sledge’s phone. Nonetheless, he responded ‘Be there in 30’.

Furious at how this person was attempting to take advantage of Shay’s innocence, Ivan thumbed the button to switch CDs. He turned up the volume and found an angry song from Three Days Grace to get him focused and picked up his speed a bit.

Ivan parked his car down the street after finding the address and scoped out the area. He always liked to have an exit plan should things go sideways and found several ways he could make a quick retreat. He’d concealed his handgun in the back of his pants, but had no intention of using it. This was a particularly seedy part of town, so Ivan figured he wouldn’t stand out too much as he walked past dilapidated buildings.

The apartment itself was in the basement of a three-story complex and he had to go around back to enter. Double checking the number, Ivan walked up to the entrance and ran the doorbell. The man on the other side opened the door with an excited look on his face that quickly fell.

“I’m expecting someone. You’ll have to come back later.” He tried to rudely close the door, but Ivan planted his foot in the way and pushed it back open. The man stumbled back and fell, letting Ivan get a good look at him as he scrambled. He was probably in his 30s, hairline already receding, but well built; strong enough to possibly overpower Shay. Whether or not he would was another question, but one Ivan didn’t ever care to find out the answer to.

“Why you keep texting my friend after he tells you not to?” He advanced menacingly before hefting the shorter man off the ground by his shirt collar, feet dangling as he stared wide eyed.

“I was interested, man. I thought he was just playin’ hard to get. Nothin’ serious, you know how it is sometimes.” Ivan narrowed his eyes, pulling him closer.

“Really? Because you made him uncomfortable. Commenting about age and pestering. You are fly. I crush fly, da?” The man shook his head, tears now starting fall as he blubbered. Ivan dropped him and pointed at the coffee table where there were two drinks.

“What you put in drinks? Hm, you drug him?”

“What? No mate, no I just…I just thought it’d help him loosen up a bit is all.” Ivan picked up both and passed them off to the man. “Drink.” Wide eyed, he downed both of them with no hesitation. Ivan figured either he hadn’t spiked the drinks or was in full self-preservation mode. Somewhat satisfied, Ivan grunted.

“Give phone. Unlock first.” The other man scrambled around in his pockets before he was passed the unlocked phone. Ivan quickly found Shay’s contact information listed under ‘Jailbait’ and deleted everything including what was backed up online.

“I deleted everything. Now,” he dropped the phone and smashed it with his heel “I’d better never see you again or” and he switched into Russian for this bit to sound more intimidating “I’ll end you faster than you can call for you mother. Clear?” The sobbing man frantically nodded, still continuing to beg and plead as Ivan left, whistling to himself as he walked back to his borrowed car. ‘Happier’ by Marshmellow was playing on the radio and Ivan decided to leave it.

He grabbed donuts to seem like he had been doing something important before dropping by an art supply store that Glaz recommended checking when he had texted him. The supplies were pricey, which explained why the sniper had probably not asked him to replace the others; more often than not, Glaz was left covering the bar tab plus damages. He wasn’t stingy though, and had bought Ivan a drink on more than one occasion. The Russian bought the four other colors that the sniper had been running out of, using a coupon to make it slightly cheaper before making his way back to Hereford.

Once he was closer to base, he filled up the gas tank and ran the car through the wash. Ivan always preferred to give vehicles back in better condition than what they were in before; it made it easier to borrow the next time he needed transportation.

Parking Ivan pulled his supplies out of the car before making the trip back to the Spetsnaz area. Kapkan opened the door and let him know Glaz would be back from the shooting range any minute before pulling him in to try some of Finka’s borscht. It was good and Ivan politely thanked her for letting him try it. He offered donuts, which were turned down by Finka but quickly snagged by Kapkan and Fuze.

True to Kapkan’s word, Glaz was back shortly and Ivan offered him the paint and a donut. Confused by the weight of the bag, the sniper peered into the opening. The look of pleased surprise on his face made the whole trip to the store worth it.

“You didn’t have to get all of these, though I admit I am running low. They’re expensive though, so let me grab you some more money to cover the price.” Ivan brushed it off, assuring him that the cost of the taxi would have been more than the tubes of paint cost. Glaz was grateful, smiling softly and offering to let him join the Spetsnaz movie night. He excused himself, citing that he had some more donuts to drop off before he could relax for the night.

That out of the way, Ivan made his way to the cafeteria where he was sure the other recruits would be. They weren’t hard to find; Jojo and Valenti were currently in the middle of a row as Gian tried to distract them and Shay pushed his peas back and forth across his tray. Ivan slid into the empty spot that was always reserved for him and set the donuts down in front of the others who quickly swarmed the box.

“Where have you been all day? Thatcher was looking for you during afternoon shooting range.” Valenti demanded around bites of donut. Ivan shrugged and told him he had errands to run.

“Did you get it done?” Shay asked hopefully, smiling as Ivan slid his phone across the table. He’d deleted all the messages off Shay’s phone after he had forwarded on the evidence to himself, just in case he ever needed to deal with the man again.

“Get what done? What were you two up to while we suffered?” Jojo peered over, looking at the phone suspiciously and then back to Shay who looked the happiest he’d been in weeks.

“He blocked a number for me! The guy wouldn’t stop texting me to get me to hang out.” That really set the others off as Jojo, Valenti, and Gian asked him rapid fire questions, demanding to know why they weren’t informed. Jojo was outraged that Shay thought he’d ever try and set him up with someone who was such a pig. He went off on one of his signature tirades, but later Ivan overheard him quietly tell Shay that he was more hurt that he didn’t feel comfortable approaching him about it. After getting all the details from Shay, the recruits hustled back to their room and entered turtle mode once they arrived, wrapping Shay in blankets and assuring him he wasn’t ridiculous for feeling uncomfortable.

Once Shay was fast asleep with Valenti and Gian holding him close, Jojo pulled Ivan aside.

“What did you really do in town? You certainly didn’t need to go in to block the number on his phone.”

“I blocked number my way. I don’t think he’ll be bothering Shay again. If he does, I know where to find him.” Jojo smiled brightly at this, pleased with the idea of inflicting violence. The two settled back down into the dog pile of operators, eventually joining Shay in sleep.

#rainbow six siege #r6s #recruitverse #r6s glaz