#remember this: bean is in there. classic

[nobodysomeday]

dumbass take that lyric shitpost thing

[radio-4-is-static]

You Could Have It So Much Better: Franz Ferdinand Interview + In the Studio ⤷ Week Two of FranzFeb: appreciation for your favorite album

[7-andahalf-rats]

slug ted call that bitch sled

[helpless--romantics]

come on eileen

oh

i swear on my beans

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

Tough

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Singer!Reader

Summary: Jack Harlow and his girlfriend have a new song out together and while they are on the press tour he can't stop flirting with her in interviews.

Interviewer: "You two have such different styles—Jack, you're all about the bars and swagger, and [Y/N], your music is dreamy and poetic. What was it like blending those worlds in your collaboration?"

Jack: grinning "Man, it was like putting hot sauce on vanilla ice cream. You wouldn’t think it works, but then you taste it, and you’re like, ‘Oh, this is kinda fire.’"

Y/N: laughing "Did you just compare my music to vanilla ice cream?"

Jack: "In the best way possible. It’s classic, it’s smooth, and everyone loves it. Meanwhile, I come in with the kick—you know, keep things spicy."

Y/N: rolling her eyes playfully "So I’m just plain vanilla?"

Jack: leaning in with a smirk "Nah, you’re that fancy vanilla bean kind. The expensive kind they keep locked up at the grocery store."

Interviewer: laughing "So would you say the collab pushed you both creatively?"

Jack: nodding "Absolutely. She made me tap into a softer side, and I think I made her realize rap isn’t just about flexing—sometimes it’s about storytelling too. She’s already a lyrical genius, though, so really, I was just tryna keep up."

Y/N: grinning "You did alright."

Jack: "Alright? Baby, tell them the truth."

Y/N: pretending to think "Okay, okay. You did good. Solid B+."

Jack: laughing "See, this is what I deal with!"

Interviewer: "Jack, you’re always praising [Y/N]'s music. What is it about her artistry that you admire the most?"

Jack: grinning "Everything. The lyrics, the emotion, the way she can make you feel like you’re floating while simultaneously breaking your heart. She could literally sing the alphabet and make you rethink your entire life."

Y/N: laughing "That’s dramatic."

Jack: "Nah, for real. I’ll be in the studio like, ‘Damn, should I be crying right now?’ And she’s just sitting there, all calm, like, ‘Jack, it’s a song about a garden.’"

Y/N: smirking "You did get emotional over that one."

Jack: "Because you made a metaphor about love and decay, and I wasn’t ready!"

Interviewer: "So when it comes to making music together, who takes the lead?"

Jack: "She does. No hesitation."

Y/N: raising an eyebrow "That’s funny, because I distinctly remember you acting like a control freak over the second verse."

Jack: hands up in defense "First of all, I was simply suggesting a minor, tiny, insignificant tweak—"

Y/N: "You rewrote it completely."

Jack: grinning "For the art!"

Y/N: shaking her head "Yeah, and then I changed it back."

Jack: "And that’s why she’s the boss."

Interviewer: "Jack, do you ever give [Y/N] rap lessons?"

Jack: laughing "Man, y’all are acting like she needs ‘em. She could out-rap half the dudes in the game if she wanted to."

Y/N: playfully smug "He’s just saying that because I freestyle better than him in the car."

Jack: grinning "Whoa, let’s not spread misinformation."

Y/N: "You want me to drop a verse right now?"

Jack: leaning back dramatically "Nah, let’s keep it peaceful. I’m tryna make it out of this interview alive."

Interviewer: "Jack, what’s your favorite song by [Y/N]?"

Jack: without hesitation "All of them."

Y/N: laughing "That’s such a cop-out answer."

Jack: "Nah, I really mean it. But if I had to choose… I’d say the one that was clearly written about me."

Y/N: raising an eyebrow "Oh? And which one is that?"

Jack: grinning "Every single love song you’ve ever written."

Y/N: "Wow, so humble."

Jack: "Listen, I’m just stating facts. You don’t gotta admit it now, just let the music speak for itself."

[ashthesalamipiece]

Hi I love your writing ! Could you possibly do bakago catching his daughter kissing midoryias son

Blasting Hearts and Puppy Love

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Katsuki Bakugo

Tags: Humor, Family Fluff, Teen Romance, Angry Dad Mode™, Soft Bakugo™, Deku Cameo

Word Count: ~2600

---

The Bakugo household was... loud.

Always had been. Always would be. But over the years, you’d learned to decipher the difference between “I just stubbed my toe” shouting and “the chicken’s on fire again” shouting.

What you weren’t prepared for was the shout you heard that Saturday afternoon.

“KATSUHARU BAKUGO, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

You dropped your coffee.

Spinning on your heel, you bolted through the house, nearly tripping over the cat and catching the tail end of your husband’s warpath—shirtless, hair wild, explosions popping on his palms like sparklers having an anxiety attack.

And there she was. Your daughter. Your beautiful, clever, slightly-too-much-like-her-dad daughter—Katsuharu Bakugo—with that look on her face. The one that screamed “I regret everything.”

Beside her? Green hair. Freckles. The startled look of a deer about to get steamrolled by a rocket-powered bulldozer.

You didn’t even need the full picture.

She was kissing Izuku Midoriya’s son.

---

Five Minutes Earlier

Katsuharu had sworn her parents were going out. “They’ll be gone for, like, two hours. We have time.”

And honestly? She wasn’t wrong. You had planned to run errands. Emphasis on planned. You’d forgotten your wallet. Classic.

So there she was, half sunk into the couch, lip-locked with Midoriya “I’m-Actually-A-Little-Taller-Than-My-Dad” Izumi, when she heard the front door open.

They broke apart fast enough to get whiplash, eyes wide.

Then—

BOOM.

Explosion.

Yelling.

The sound of slippers being yeeted into the stratosphere.

---

Present Time

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” Bakugo shouted, stalking across the living room like a lion that’d just caught a hyena stealing his meat. “YOU’RE SUCKIN’ FACE WITH A DAMN DEKU SPAWN?!”

“I—I wasn’t—” Izumi stuttered, holding his hands up like it might protect him from certain death. “I swear I didn’t mean—!”

Katsuharu, cheeks still pink, hissed, “Dad, you’re being dramatic—”

“OH I HAVEN’T EVEN STARTED YET!”

You stepped in between them like a seasoned war general mediating nuclear diplomacy.

“Okay! Okay, Katsuki, I get that you’re having a full emotional breakdown, but maybe—maybe—we don’t detonate the child?”

“He’s not a child, he’s a Midoriya!” Bakugo snapped. “That’s a betrayal of blood!”

“She’s not in a gang, Katsuki! She kissed him, not sold state secrets!”

“I might as well be stabbed in the back with a broccoli!”

“Dad, I like him!” Katsuharu shouted. “He’s sweet and smart and—”

“AND A DAMN NERD!” Bakugo howled.

“Excuse me, I’m standing right here,” Izumi muttered, eyebrows raised.

“You’re lucky you’re still standing at all, bean sprout!”

---

10 Years of Parenting Flash Before Your Eyes

You remember when Katsuki first held Katsuharu in the hospital. Swaddled in a pink blanket, already scowling like her father. He looked down at her, called her a “tiny grenade” and promised he’d protect her from everything.

You had a sneaking suspicion that included the concept of kissing forever.

“You,” Bakugo said, turning a fire-eyed glare toward Izumi, “have exactly three seconds to explain yourself before I start decorating the walls with your limbs.”

Izumi’s face paled. “I-I like her! I’ve liked her since we were ten! She’s fierce and funny and amazing and—and she beat up a kid who called me broccoli boy—”

“That was one time!” Katsuharu shouted, flustered.

“She broke his nose,” Izumi whispered fondly.

Bakugo squinted like his soul just physically left his body.

“GET. OUT.”

Izumi didn’t hesitate. “Yessir!”

He bolted out the front door like his shoes were on fire (they might’ve been, considering the burn trail behind him).

Katsuharu groaned, “Ugh, Dad!”

“You’re grounded for eternity!”

“I’m seventeen!”

“Grounded until the earth collapses in on itself and all that’s left is ash and regret!”

You, ever the peacekeeper, held up a hand. “Okay, that’s enough end-of-days poetry. Katsu, take a breath before your blood pressure explodes.”

“I’m calm,” Bakugo growled, completely unconvincingly. “I’m totally. Freakin’. CALM.”

The throw pillow he detonated in his hand said otherwise.

---

Later That Evening

After the dust (literal and metaphorical) settled, you found Bakugo brooding at the kitchen table, arms crossed, eyes twitching.

“She’s growing up,” you said softly, pouring him a cup of tea.

“She’s supposed to grow up into a badass. Not a—kissing Deku's kid badass.”

You smirked. “Izumi’s sweet.”

“He’s a walking fern with nerves.”

“He also volunteers at the animal shelter and knits scarves for homeless people.”

Bakugo looked like you told him his daughter was dating Santa Claus.

“I should’ve sent her to a nunnery.”

“She’d have blown it up.”

“She gets that from you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Bakugo grumbled. “Okay, fine. She gets it from us. But that don’t mean I gotta like her getting all sappy with broccoli’s spawn.”

“You do realize we kissed around that age too, right?”

“Yeah, and I almost broke the windows doing it.”

You laughed, ruffling his hair. “Katsu, she’s a good kid. And she picked a good kid. That’s what matters.”

He huffed. “I still don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it. You just have to not vaporize it.”

“...Compromise.”

---

Epilogue: The Apology BBQ

To make peace, you and Bakugo invited the Midoriyas over for a backyard cookout.

It was... awkward.

Izuku beamed nervously. “Wow, it smells great out here!”

Katsuki threw a burger patty on the grill like it owed him money. “You shut your damn mouth, Deku.”

Inko Midoriya and you exchanged exhausted parent glances while sipping lemonade.

Katsuharu and Izumi sat very far apart—until you weren’t looking.

Then came the hand-holding.

Cue Bakugo exploding the ketchup bottle.

“YOU THINK I DIDN’T SEE THAT?!”

[gf2bellamy]

Hiiii! I love your fics! How does your brain work is one mystery! I have a request - you know how in 1.17 A Real Rain where they had a case in NYC and Reid says his he has never been there and how in the ep he doesn't know how to use chopsticks, I was think a sunshine!bau!reader x spencer!reid where she gives him a tour around the city and teachers him how to use chopsticks. They can have an established relationship or friends in love or anything, up to you! Thank you Anna love you lotsss!!!

tour — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: established relationship , they eat lots of food , its honestly just pure fluff a/n: i had so much fun writing this but pls keep in mind that i've never been to new york so if i got something wrong i'm vv sorry ! <3

“Okay, time to start the tour!” you announced, clapping your hands together as you and Spencer stepped out of the hotel lobby and into the crisp morning air of New York City.

Spencer adjusted the strap of his messenger bag, his eyes wide as he took in the towering skyline. You couldn’t help but grin at the way his head tilted back slightly.

 God, he’s adorable. 

“You’ve really never been to New York before?” you asked, nudging his shoulder with yours. 

He blinked, shaking his head. “I’ve read about it. Does that count?” 

“Absolutely not,” you declared, grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers through his. “Reading about New York and experiencing New York are two entirely different things. And lucky for you, you’ve got the best tour guide in the city.” 

Spencer smiled down at you, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “Where are we starting?” 

You squeezed his hand and tugged him forward, weaving effortlessly through the crowd. “With the classics,” you said, your voice bubbling with excitement. 

Spencer let you lead, his long legs easily keeping pace with your eager strides. He watched the way your eyes lit up as you pointed out little details—the faded graffiti on a brick wall, the smell of fresh pretzels from a street vendor. 

“First stop,” you announced, stopping in front of a small, unassuming bagel shop tucked between a deli and a thrift store. The scent of freshly baked dough and roasted coffee beans spilled out onto the sidewalk, and Spencer inhaled deeply, his stomach giving a quiet growl. 

“We’re starting with a classic New York bagel,” you said, grinning up at him. “And—” you leaned in conspiratorially, “—they have amazing coffee. Trust me.” 

Spencer’s lips quirked. “I do trust you,” he said softly. “But statistically, New Yorkers overestimate the quality of their coffee by at least—” 

You pressed a finger to his lips, cutting him off. “Hush, Dr. Reid. Just let me prove you wrong.” 

He laughed, the sound warm, and you felt your chest swell with affection. 

Inside, the shop was cozy and crowded. You ordered for both of you—an everything bagel with scallion cream cheese for him, a cinnamon raisin with honey walnut for yourself—and two large coffees.

“You remembered how I take my coffee,” he noted, accepting the cup from you. 

You rolled your eyes. “Spencer, I’ve seen you drink approximately three hundred cups of coffee in the time I’ve known you. It’s not exactly a hard pattern to recognize.” 

He smirked. “Fair point.” 

You found a tiny table by the window, your knees bumping against his under the cramped space. Spencer took a careful bite of his bagel, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. 

“Okay,” he admitted after swallowing. “This is significantly better than airport bagels.” 

You grinned triumphantly. “Told you.” 

He took another bite, humming in approval. “The texture is perfect—chewy but not dense, with just the right amount of—” 

You reached over, swiping a dollop of cream cheese from the corner of his mouth with your thumb before he could finish his analysis. Spencer froze, his cheeks flushing slightly. 

“You had a little something,” you teased. 

He cleared his throat. “Right. Thank you.” 

You sipped your latte, watching him over the rim of your cup. “So,” you said, tapping your fingers against the table. “After this, I thought we would check out a bookstore, its right around the corner and its perfect for you trust me.”

The moment you mentioned a bookstore, Spencer's entire demeanor shifted. His hazel eyes lit up, and he practically inhaled the last bite of his bagel in his haste.You couldn't help but giggle at the way he nearly choked in his enthusiasm, cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk as he tried to chew and declare "I'm ready!" simultaneously. 

"Easy there, speed reader," you laughed, standing and offering your hand. He took it eagerly, his long fingers wrapping around yours.

The walk to the bookstore was challenging.

Spencer kept surging ahead like an overeager puppy, his natural long strides carrying him three steps forward before you'd have to gently tug him back toward the correct crosswalk or sidewalk. 

"You're worse than a kid on Christmas morning," you teased as you finally reached the store with its hand-painted sign.

Then Spencer saw the shelves. 

His mouth fell open in pure wonder, his grip slackening in yours as he took in the towering bookcases that seemed to go on forever, the stacks of novels teetering on every available surface.

You didn't need to look at him to know what he was thinking.

"Go on," you murmured, squeezing his hand once before releasing it. 

Spencer didn't need telling twice. He pressed a quick, grateful kiss to your cheek that left your skin tingling, then disappeared into the literary maze.

You wandered through the bookstore, trailing your fingers along spines.

Nearly 30 minutes later, you turned a corner to find Spencer balancing a stack of books in his arms, his hair slightly mussed from running his hands through it in excitement.

"They have the most amazing first editions," he breathed, his voice hushed. His hazel eyes practically glowed in the dim light. "This 1937 printing of 'The Hobbit' has the original color plates, and this copy of 'Frankenstein' is from 1823, and-" 

His words tumbled out in an excited rush, hands carefully shifting to show you each treasure. You watched, utterly enchanted, as he explained the significance of each book.

"Should I ask how much all these are going to cost us?" you asked, raising an eyebrow playfully. 

Spencer's excited ramble stuttered to a halt. He blinked down at his armful of books, then back at you, suddenly looking adorably guilty. "...I might have gotten carried away." 

You reached up to smooth a wayward curl behind his ear, your fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary. "Good thing I love seeing you happy," you murmured. 

The soft, grateful smile he gave you was worth every penny those first editions would cost. 

As you emerged from the bookstore, Spencer was practically glowing with happiness, his arms full with three bags.

 "Time for one of NYC's most famous places," you announced, slipping your hand around his bicep since his fingers were too occupied with book bags to hold yours. You'd offered to swing by the hotel first to drop off his purchases, but he'd refused - as if parting with his new books for even a moment might make them disappear. 

 Spencer tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "Yes?" 

You grinned, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. "Times Square. The crossroads of the world." 

His face immediately lit up with recognition, and before you could take another step, he launched into an animated explanation: "Did you know Times Square was originally called Longacre Square until 1904 when the New York Times moved their headquarters there? And the first electrified advertisement appeared in—" 

You listened with fond amusement as his words tumbled out in that rapid-fire way they did when he was excited.

As you rounded the corner, Spencer's lecture cut off abruptly. His steps faltered as the full sensory overload of Times Square hit him - the neon lights, the towering digital billboards flashing advertisements and Broadway snippets. His eyes darted from one spectacle to another, his mind clearly working overtime to process it all. 

"Look at that," he murmured, nodding to a massive screen displaying a clip from a Broadway musical. "That staging technique is fascinating." 

"We can go see it if you want," you offered, already mentally calculating how to get tickets. 

But Spencer was already distracted by something new, his head tilting back to take in a skyscraper's animated LED facade. You let him absorb the moment, content to watch his wonderment. 

Then you spotted it - the iconic "I Love New York" store. 

"Oh my god," you gasped, tightening your grip on his arm. "We're buying you a mug." 

Spencer opened his mouth, likely to protest that he didn't need more souvenirs, but you were already steering him through the crowded sidewalk and into the store before he could form a coherent argument. 

The shop was full of t-shirts, keychains, snow globes, and of course, rows upon rows of mugs. You beelined for the display, immediately grabbing one with the classic logo in bold black letters. 

 "You need this," you declared, holding it up for his inspection. "Every genius needs a good coffee mug for all those late-night reading sessions." 

Spencer's protest died on his lips as he saw your enthusiastic expression. He sighed in mock resignation, but the way his eyes crinkled at the corners betrayed his amusement. "I suppose it would be terrible to visit New York and not get at least one cliché souvenir." 

You stood on your toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "That's the spirit. Now help me find the cheesiest one they have - I think I saw a glitter version back there." 

As Spencer laughed and allowed himself to be pulled deeper into the store.

Once you bought multiple mugs , you wandered down quieter streets, your energy finally waning after hours of exploration. You leaned your cheek against Spencer's arm with a dramatic sigh.

"I'm hungry," you admitted, the words muffled slightly against his sleeve. 

Spencer looked down at you. The bags of books swung gently from his other hand as he adjusted his stance to better support your weight. "I'm sure you already have a place in mind," he said.

You pulled back just enough to grin up at him. "You know me so well." 

Without hesitation, you guided him toward a cozy little restaurant tucked between two taller buildings. The delicious aroma of soy sauce and ginger wafted through the open door. 

"We," you announced as you stepped inside, "are teaching you how to use chopsticks." 

Spencer opened his mouth—probably to protest that he could learn just fine from a book—but the hostess was already leading you to a corner table draped in soft yellow light.

Soon enough, you found yourself unable to contain your laughter as Spencer attempted to maneuver the chopsticks. His brow furrowed in intense concentration, the tip of his tongue peeking out between his lips. The chopsticks slipped again, sending the food tumbling back onto his plate with a quiet plop. 

"You're enjoying this too much," he accused as he caught your poorly-hidden grin. "I thought you were going to help me," he added when the chopsticks clattered into the bowl of miso soup for the third time. 

"Sorry, sorry," you giggled, finally pushing back your chair, as you moved to sit beside him on the padded bench, your thigh pressing warmly against his. 

You reached over to rearrange his fingers, your skin brushing against his in a way that made his stomach flutter. "Like this," you murmured, guiding his grip. "Thumb here, middle finger there... and you have to hold the bottom one completely still." 

Spencer's hands were warm beneath yours, his long fingers trembling slightly as he tried to follow your instructions. You could see the exact moment when it clicked for him.

"Ah," he breathed as he successfully lifted a piece of cucumber roll. The triumph in his voice was utterly endearing. "It's all about the fulcrum point." 

You rested your chin in your hand, unable to wipe the smile from your face as you watched him carefully, proudly, eat his first successful bite.

"See?" you said softly. "I knew you could do it." 

Spencer bumped his knee against yours under the table, a silent thank you that spoke volumes. Then, he used his newly-acquired skill to place a piece of salmon directly onto your plate.

Two hours later, you collapsed onto the hotel bed with a groan as you threw an arm across your face. 

"I can't feel my feet," you mumbled into the crook of your elbow. 

Spencer carefully set down his precious book bags—their contents now safely deposited on the dresser—before joining you on the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, causing you to slide toward him until your head naturally found its place in his lap. His fingers immediately carding through your hair.

"Me neither, to be honest," Spencer admitted with a chuckle, his free hand already pulling out the first book from his bag.

You closed your eyes, letting the motion of Spencer's fingers in your hair lull you into relaxation.

"I got us tickets for that Broadway show you saw on the billboard," you murmured into the quiet. 

The pages stopped mid-turn. 

"What? How? When?" Spencer's voice held equal parts surprise and delight, his fingers pausing their movements in your hair. 

You cracked one eye open to see him looking down at you, his hazel eyes wide.

"When you were staring at that one picture in the Met Museum for like fifteen minutes," you said, a smug smile tugging at your lips. "The one with the fruit basket that you insisted had 'hidden symbolism.'" 

Spencer's mouth opened and closed several times before he managed, "That was Caravaggio's 'Basket of Fruit,' and the decaying—" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "Wait, no, that's not the point. You really got tickets?" 

You reached up to boop his nose, enjoying the way it scrunched in response. "Front row center. Tonight at eight." 

For a moment, Spencer just stared at you, his expression softening into something unbearably fond. Then, he bent down and kissed your forehead, his lips warm against your skin. 

"You," he murmured against your hairline, "are incredible." 

You hummed contentedly, closing your eyes again as he returned to his book, though you could feel his fingers trembling slightly with excitement in your hair.

The Broadway show had been spectacular—more than you'd dreamed. His hand unconsciously reaching for yours in the dark when the romantic duet began. You'd laced your fingers together, his palm warm against yours.

Afterwards, you wandered back towards the hotel, ice cream cones dripping down your fingers while swinging bags of freshly baked cookies and still-warm donuts between you. Spencer kept bumping your shoulder every few steps—partly to avoid the jostling crowds, mostly because he wanted to be close to you. 

Back at the hotel room, you changed quickly—you into Spencer's favorite sweater (the one that swallowed you whole, the cuffs falling past your fingertips), him into worn cotton pajama pants that made him look unfairly cozy.

You settled onto the bed, tucking your legs beneath you, while Spencer leaned against the headboard, already halfway through a donut.

"This is perfect," he murmured around a mouthful, his voice thick with sugar and something soft. You nodded, your own cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk's with chocolate chip cookies.

"I hope you liked my tour," you finally managed after swallowing, grinning at him.

Spencer set his donut down —a telltale sign he was about to say something heartfelt. He reached forward, his fingers brushing a crumb from your cheek before tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering just a second too long. 

"I loved it." His thumb traced the curve of your ear absentmindedly. "Thank you." 

Then, quieter, his gaze dropping to where your fingers twisted in the sheets: "Do you think we can spend another day here?" Before you could answer, he rushed to add, "I'd like to go back to that bookstore," his ears flushing that adorable pink you loved. 

You tilted your head, unable to resist teasing. "Were the thirteen books you bought not enough?" 

Spencer hesitated, his nose scrunching. "No?" he said, the word lifting at the end like a question, and you couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up.

"Of course we can stay," you grinned, nudging the cookie box aside before gently bumping your knee against his. His smile was worth every changed travel plan in the world. 

"Besides," you added, peeking up at him through your lashes, "I saw how you looked at that first edition Poe. We're not leaving until it's yours." 

Spencer's smile could have powered Times Square. 

[sentryluvs]

“Between the Stacks” Bob Reynolds (Sentry x reader)

Summary: Bob sneaks out for some fresh air and meets you at a bookstore near the old Avengers Tower.

tags: Fluff, Bob is the cutest awkward bean, bookworm! bob, reader is a bookstore employee, set after the events of Thunderbolts* Yelena and Ava are besties.

First fanfic! short chapters

parts three to five and epilogue | special chapter

Please comment down below what should I write next!

00.1 - Fresh Air

The old Avengers Tower, now home to the new Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, the Thunderbolts* was pure chaos. Alexei and John were in a shouting match in the kitchen, Yelena was sharpening her knives with an leave me alone look while seated on the large sofa, beside her was Ava, strategically planning future mission logistics on her comically big Ipad, and Bucky was trying to keep Alexei and John from ripping their heads off.

On the other hand, Bob Reynolds stood by the window, staring at the city lights from above. He could feel the Void scratching at the back of his mind, restless and hungry. He needed air. He needed… out.

He managed to slip out quietly, barely noticed. The city at night was a different world-cool, alive, anonymous. Bob wandered for a while, until he found himself in front of a cozy bookstore, its windows glowing gold against the dark. The sign read Tower View Store. He hesitated for a minute, then pushed the door open.

The bell chimed. The scent of coffee, old paper, and wood greeted him. Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, and a few customers browsed in silence. You stood behind the counter, sorting a stack of new arrivals.

Bob looked up to the ceiling, his eyes following the arrows and sections that pointed around the whole store, then drifted to the fiction section, after a little bit, he ended up picking up two books, frowning at the covers.

You noticed him when he lowered his gaze and kept walking, taking in his appearance: cozy, baggy, grey tones. Posture slouched, clean shaven face, unruly hair, anxious looking and very handsome. You couldn’t help to drop your customer service smile into something more genuine as you gently approached him.

“Excuse me”

He jumped a little as you appeared behind him, apologizing inmediately for his startleness. That made you smile even more. Seeing that you werent uncomfortable around his presence, he relaxed a little bit.

“If you need help picking, let me know!”

You said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

His gaze lowered again. “Uh, yeah. I can’t decide. They both look… interesting.” He said with a hint of uncertainty.

You glanced at the titles-one was a hopeful fantasy, the other a gritty dystopia.

“Depends on your mood. Want to escape, or face the darkness?” You joked light heartly, oh

Bob blinked.

“Escape. Definitely escape.”

You grinned.

“Then go with this one.”

You handed him the fantasy.

“It’s got heart. And dragons.” You winked in a friendly way and his heart fluttered, feeling better.

He smiled, a little awkward.

“Thank you. I’m Bob, by the way.” He stretched his hand, but remembering what would happen he tried to pull away panicking, however, you shook his hand softly before he could even try

“Nice to meet you Bob, I’m Y/N, hope to see you around, enjoy your book” You smiled and turned around before he would speak again.

Left in a bit of a shock when nothing happened, he repeated your name softly, testing how it felt.

It felt good

002- Bookish beggining

Bob became a regular. Every few days, he’d slip in during your shift. Sometimes he’d buy a book, just browse, or just try to have a conversation with you. You started to look forward to his visits.

One afternoon, you caught him lingering by the classics.

You snuck behind him, hoping to give him a little scare.

“Ever read Tolkien?” you asked, holding up The Hobbit. He didn’t flinch, turning around like normal.

He shook his head. “No. Should I?”

You smiled. “Absolutely. It’s the perfect place to start if you want adventure with a side of comfort.”

You turned around “Let me know if you want it, this one’s on the house”

The next time he came in, he was halfway through.

“I like Bilbo,” he admitted. “He’s braver than he thinks.”

You grinned. “Most people are.”

He looked at you, something vulnerable in his eyes. “Do you ever feel like you’re pretending to be brave?”

You nodded. “All the time. But sometimes pretending is how you become the real thing.”

He seemed to consider that, then smiled. “Maybe you’re right.”

003- Close to You

Your conversations grew longer, drifting from books to life. You learned Bob liked the smell of rain and old paper, that he always checked the endings of books before starting them, that he loves a good cup of french vanilla. He also opened up about his struggle with drug addiction, and his rehab process. He told you vaguely about his job at the old Avengers Tower. You couldnt helped to feel curious but didnt mind too much about it.

One evening, as you were closing up, he lingered by the counter.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, voice low, eyes looking at you expectantly.

“Of course, what is it?” You said, carefully counting the money from the registers.

“Why do you work here? You seem… I don’t know. Too smart for retail.” Bob said while rubbing the back of his neck nerviously.

The question caught you off guard, you laughed. “I love it here. “ You tell him with sincerity, his heart warmed at the way your eyes glowed with admiration.

“I love helping people find stories that make them feel less alone. Plus, the view’s not bad.” You nodded toward the window, where the old Avengers Tower loomed in the distance.

Bob followed your gaze, then looked back at you. “It is a good view.”

Bob felt very comfortable around you. You noticed how he relaxed, fixed his posture and his smile came easier. Sometimes, you’d catch him glancing at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

You questioned internally if he was really talking about the Tower’s view.

continue to next part here

[velunas]

can you do some nsfw five headcanons? thanksss

aw hell yea man. i want aidan gallagher so bad it’s criminal i need to be locked up in horny jail !! (surprise surprise i like another white man)

five hargreeves nsfw headcanons

tw: smut !! mdni plz xoxo 💋

ngl it took him a WHILE to stop cumming so quick after the two of u had sex for the first time. dude was alone for like 50 years with nothing but a mannequin and his left hand ok cut him some slack

but trust me when i say he always made up for it. if he’s cumming after 5 minutes he’s making u cum at LEAST two times that night (more for himself than for you bc busting so quick damaged his ego a bit)

had never eaten pussy before you so he was super hesitant going into it at first, even though he didn’t act like it

probably spent a few minutes exploring what you had down there before rlly going to town on you

picks up on things very quickly bc he’s so smart so it was easy for him to figure out what you liked and didn’t like

is able to make you cum the first time he goes down on you and will never forget it (huge ego boost)

blowjobs are one of his favorite things in the world, second only to actual sex with you

he’s heard his brothers talk about sex in passing but brushed it off as some stupid superficial thing they were obsessed with

but oh man after the first time you two do it he wants it all the time

for the first few months he’s practically insatiable, which is so far from his normally calm and collected persona

after a while, he’s able to control himself more. it becomes less of an addiction and more of a luxury to him

but don’t get me wrong, just because he doesn’t need it every day doesn’t mean he doesn’t need it often

he considers it the perfect way to unwind from a long and stressful day

or the best way to apologize after upsetting you

prefers using his fingers over his mouth on you because he gets a better view of your face and how good he’s making you feel

he gets super possessive sometimes (especially when he’s drunk) so he will occasionally leave dark bruises on your neck, just below your collar. easy enough to cover up but easy to show off as well

doesn’t like hickies on himself but appreciates scratches on his back from time to time

doesnt talk about your sex life with his siblings, but it’s clear by the way he relaxes around them more after the two of you get together that he’s getting that ‘good good’ (direct quote from diego said to a disgusted allison)

keeps his hair long because he likes when you tug it

favorite position is missionary bc he’s a classic man what can i say. he loves that he can see your entire body and your face all at the same time

however you on top is something he’ll never refuse

pls just top him every once and a while he’s so tired from saving the world thrice and taking care of his siblings and murdering people… he needs a break !

is always so hesitant to relinquish control to you but he knows he always enjoys himself in the end

doesn’t usually get into ‘roles’ during sex but he prefers being the one to call the shots

if ur able to get him to sub be prepared bc he’s a mouthy little brat

probably likes being slapped around a lil bit i can’t lie

is a secret sucker for soft romantic sex (but he saves that for special occasions like anniversaries and birthdays)

he’ll cradle your face and whisper how pretty you are and press gentle kisses to your cheeks. he’ll even hold ur hand the whole time!!

ok last addition but i feel like when he gets super drunk he’ll accidentally spill the beans about your sex life to klaus and ben and now ben can’t look at him or you the same without remembering that five told him you swallow LMAO

[popatochisssp]

hiya poppy! i dunno if this is a silly ask but I’m a bit curious… do any of your unique boys have weird condiment obsessions or comfort foods?? tale sans has ketchup, swap paps has honey and so on, i assume that the rest of hoodie gang (what i loosely refer to the lazy brother role as) has the same weird habits. mostly curious about ash, brick, ell, nemo, sunny!

(Anon, I know you did not initially send this on anon, and you included an Art with it that I enjoyed very much, which is why I was so very upset to somehow lose this ask??? Luckily, tumblr cannot eat my emails so I still had the text saved and can at least answer the question, but if you wanted to re-add your art to this post, I would like that very much 😭)

I did do a favorite condiments/toppings post ages ago, when I only had ten of these losers, so it might be about time to update it!

Sans (Undertale): Yeah, it’s ketchup, he likes it on anything and everything, and he will drink it straight ���cause he’s a terrible gremlin man. He started doing it as a joke to freak people out but it grew on him and, uh… well, now, he just likes it. This is his life and he has no shame.

Papyrus (Undertale): Nothing so uncouth as his brother, ugh! …But… on occasion…very rare occasion, mind you! He…has been known to sneak a spoonful of peanut butter straight out of the jar… Just the one, though, he never double-dips! He’s not disgusting!

Sky (Underswap Sans): As far as condiments go, he likes relish! He won’t eat it straight, if anyone’s looking, but who doesn’t like a hearty helping of it plopped onto a hot dog? Or a hot cat, he’s not picky! Spicy or sour is equally fine, just not the biggest fan of sweet.

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): Nothing new here, he likes honey a whole heck of a lot, though mostly just to sweeten his tea… or in a candy-bar, or drizzled on a pastry or something… Damn, he’s making himself hungry just thinking about it…

Jasper (Underfell Sans): Mustard, obviously, anything else on a ‘dog is the blatantly incorrect choice. Also pretty good on a sandwich, but you’re never gonna catch him guzzling it straight from the bottle. He never tried to pull that prank like his classic counterpart did, and never got accidentally hooked on his own condiment of choice. Ha!

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): He’ll deny it to his dusting breath, but you cannot bring Nutella or any kind of chocolate spread into the house and expect it to still be there when you come back. He will eat it directly out of the jar, the whole thing, especially if he’s had a hard day or something. You’ll just never find the evidence. He’ll do it with ice cream, too, so y’know…keep an eye on your groceries.

Mal (Swapfell Sans): He likes spicy flavors so any kind of salsa or hot sauce is a favorite for him. His tolerance is damn good, so he can–and will–pull a Power Move and drink it straight if he feels the situation calls for it, but he generally just likes it on his food, like a normal person. Don’t test him, though, remember the freak that lies just beneath the surface…

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): Can he pick literally everything sweet ever? No? Okay, then it’s probably maple syrup that he likes best, he’ll have it on waffles, in candy, or even to sweeten up some normally more savory foods like beans or ham or just about anything else you can think of. …Not that he, uh…really knows how to cook, himself… But he was a picky eater as a kid and syrup was easy to get in Snowdin, so it was usually used as a bribe to get him to eat A Thing He Didn’t Like and it’s a bit of a comfort-flavor for him now!

Slate (Horrortale Sans): For obvious reasons… he’s not picky. He’ll eat anything– burnt, flavorless, or even a little moldy, just drown it in ketchup and it’s good as gold. Like his classic counterpart, he’ll drink it straight, but surprisingly he’s also developed a bit of a fondness for mayo, mostly post-surfacing. It is not an unusual occurrence to find him just eating it straight, especially if he’s managed to get ahold of one of those squeeze-tubes that make it even easier. You might think he’s trying to pull a vanilla-pudding-in-the-mayo-jar prank but…alas, it’s real.

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): He’s in the health field and knows in great detail why this is a thing he should probably not be doing but… You know those tubs of whipped topping…? Yeah, he’ll eat that with a spoon until the, “Oh My God, Why Am I Doing This” thoughts hit him and he shamefully puts it back. It would easily be one of the most mortifying moments of his life if you ever caught him at it, standing in front of the fridge in the dark at two in the morning like an oil-and-corn-syrup-loving cryptid.

Ash (Undergloom Sans): Worcestershire sauce is probably his top choice of condiment. His brother’s cooking has spoiled him a little bit, so plain old ketchup doesn’t quite cut it for him anymore. A lot of his favorite foods are hearty, heavy, meaty or all of the above, and Worcestershire can go on and in most of them! Now, will he drink it? No, probably not… but if there’s any on his plate that he can sop up with a bread roll and eat, he absolutely will be doing so.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): No one can know. Whenever he buys those little jars of maraschino cherries, it’s for garnishing drinks or desserts or whatever else he might need them for, and when he cleans out the jars to reuse them for other things, there’s no reason to wonder what he’s done with the juice, probably dumped it, right? Well…no. He drinks it, straight from the jar, like some kind of fucked up, bookish skeleton hummingbird. Don’t judge him!!!

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): Whether he acknowledges it or not, he’s living a bit more of the high life these days than he used to, and with that tends to come some upgrades in the little things around you. In his case, that means he still prefers mustard over any condiment, but it’s Dijon mustard specifically that he tends to reach for—a bit fancier, more of a bite to it, and now the plain yellow stuff feels like a downgrade. He’ll eat whatever, he’s not picky, but y’know…if given the option…

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): He has no such vices…that he’ll admit to. But neither will he back down or show even a hint of shame if you catch him squirting a bottle of chocolate syrup straight into his shaker full of milk that you may have previously assumed was a protein or workout shake of some kind. As for whether or not he’ll drink the syrup straight… You’ll never catch him. Don’t even try.

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): Probably sweet-and-sour sauce for him, there’s a lot of different things to use it on and he likes the versatility of that. To the point that he’d drink it? Yes, sure, boldly so, in front of anyone, admittedly mostly as a bit for the reaction but hey, it’s tangy and delicious, no regrets!

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): His favorite topping to snack on is also a backfired prank. His brother is a baker and buys more new and unnecessary kinds of sprinkles than anyone could ever reasonably need, and he may’ve stolen a bottle or two to see how long it’d take him to notice. …And then maybe…grazed on them a little bit one time, when he was hungry and busy and didn’t want to get up. In his defense…they’re crunchy?

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): He’s still all about the hot sauce, baby! Buffalo sauce in particular is probably the favorite, perfect for wings, but he’ll branch out if there are options—especially if they’re advertised as the hottest around, or put to him as a challenge. He’s a defiant thrill-seeker at heart, he all but has to drink it straight from the bottle if someone thinks so highly of it.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): He’s a caramel fiend. He pretty much always has been, in its candy form, but pretty much as soon as he started cooking for himself and realized how easy it was to just put a few things in a pan and have caramel sauce? It was over for him, he does it all the time now. It’s lucky if it actually makes it on top of anything because he’ll eat it by the spoonful almost straight out of the pan, but if he doesn’t, it’s still a perfectly good snack after it’s cooled a little. Not even store-bought jars last any longer in his house.

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): He loves a good steak sauce, obviously for steaks but on pretty much anything—burgers, sandwiches, jazzing up some veggies, what can’t it do? He’s not quite at the level of drinking it straight from the bottle, but it can seem close some days when he’s really slathering it on.

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): Definitely some kind of weakness for tahini. It makes such a good dip, or spread, or partner with jam on toast to make a not-quite-pb&j, so even though he doesn’t usually find it on a menu, he tends to keep some around the house. Would he eat it all by itself? Has he? Well, what’s the fun in just telling? He has some kind of mystique to maintain, you know…

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans): Ketchup is super nostalgic for him, a very comforting flavor. He’ll totally drink it straight or eat it out of a packet just for the taste of it, even if he doesn’t have the hunger to actually eat it with something. He’s also gotten a bit more adventurous, though, and is a lot more open to trying different varieties of ketchup, and those trendy combos with other things—spicy ketchup, mayochup, thousand island—if it’s available, he’ll try it, and he’s slowly amassing a personal catalogue of favorites tried all across the globe.

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus): He doesn’t eat. He doesn’t need to and he’s not actually capable of it, so… It’s fine, he really doesn’t miss it or think about it much. …But whenever he gets around to having that back-up body made, probably the first thing he’d eat with it is a big jar of peanut butter, the crunchy kind.

Xanth (Ascendswap Sans): Having almost completely done away with any sense of shame and a large amount of awareness of social norms, he is no longer shy of straight-up eating relish. He is also not shy of going for maximum sour, vinegary flavor and will fully sip pickle juice out of the jar. He is living his truth and we are all so proud.

Piper (Ascendswap Papyrus): Did I call somebody else a hummingbird? I should’ve saved it for him, he’s graduated from honey to something a bit more concentrated—agave syrup. He follows the trends a little more attentively these days, gave it a try when he heard about it as a honey-substitute, and that was…kind of it. His sweet tooth is his weakness, and he doesn’t even mind paying a little more for the ethically sourced brands, he’s too hooked on that super-sweet sweetness for his tea and candy and pastries and whatever else he can find to drizzle it on.

Carmine (Underfell Fruition Sans): He’s a cool ranch guy, all the way. As a dip, it’s the perfect accompaniment to anything crunchy and he’ll freely load up his carrots and celery and chips with it. As a proper condiment, it’ll go on anything from pizza to burgs, and while he’s definitely taken a swig once, just to try it, he probably likes it better as supporting cast than the lead act.

Tank (Underfell Fruition Papyrus): He was ruined the first time a jar of marshmallow fluff came into his possession. He didn’t get much in the way of sweets growing up, so pure, soft, sticky sugar…? He has no defense against it. He’ll actually need to be told you can make things with it if you want to, because eating it with a spoon is all he knows and that’ll be a beautiful brave new world for him.

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans): He’s a barbecue sauce fan. His preference is for the smoky or spicy kind, but even the sweeter stuff has its charm and he hasn’t really eaten a kind he hasn’t somewhat liked. He won’t take a swig from a bottle, but if he ever comes across a brand he really likes, he may go out of his way to buy some to take home, and that's a huge compliment from him.

Hunter (Swapfell Fruition Papryus): Butterscotch is his thing, actually. He likes it as a topping in sauces and cocktails quite a bit, but if there happen to be any butterscotch chips around, that’s more to his preference. Be wary trying to get any baking with them done around him, he actually prefers them outside of the baked goods and he’s not above petty theft. In fact, he’s below it, far below it, a little quick yoinkery is the least of what he’ll do to get something he wants.

Kohl (Descendtale Sans): He’s a soy sauce kind of guy. It’s salty, savory, and strong, a little goes a long way even to overpower a flavor you’re sick of, but you have to eat because it’s nearly all there is… Yeah, he got a little hooked on it when monsters started eating the echo flower root, and it stuck around as a new favorite after. Would he drink it? Not unless it would be really funny, he has limited room in the tank these days and would prefer to use it for food he likes, not on a bit.

Bram (Descendtale Papyrus):  Nothing beats a nice crème anglaise drizzled over something sweet… Of course, he’s not much of a cook so mostly he just waits for vanilla ice cream to melt and that’s basically the same thing, right? Ice cream soup is delicious and also a perfectly valid topping for all manner of deliciousness, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it!

And as for comfort foods…well that’s a whole other post to update! ;)

[kurishiri]

Ikemen Villains: Vogel character card translations

translations may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties. Please reblog, not repost!

Darius Vogel

birthday: 10/14

height: 177cm

affiliation: Vogel

curse: Swan Lake • Rothbart

hobbies: finding Cursed ones, milk puzzles

skills: has a good sense of smell, has very good eyesight (as good as a falcon’s)

favorite foods: anything that looks hard to make or looks hard to obtain

least favorite foods: scones, potatoes

dislikes: taking care of living things

weapon: sword in a cane

Nica Schwartz

birthday: 03/02

height: 180cm

affiliation: Vogel

curse: Swan Lake • Odile

hobbies: reading and writing to gain knowledge, reading records of sea voyages

skills: forging handwriting, imitating writing, tying a cherry stem with his tongue

favorite foods: expensive-looking foods

least favorite foods: cheap-looking foods, jelly beans

dislikes: platonic love, any type of deep affection

weapon: gun

Ring Schwartz

birthday: 03/02

height: 180cm

affiliation: Vogel

curse: Swan Lake • Odile

hobbies: staying at the edge of his room, siesta while staring at the sky

skills: battle, classic martial arts, getting animals to like him, remembering the names of flowers

favorite foods: foods that come in a large amount

least favorite foods: jelly beans

dislikes: eating meals alone

weapon: long sword

( Darius ╱ Nika ╱ Ring ) — the cast’s first impressions — character cards

[cranberrymoons]

a love to last past saturday night

here's the first 3,500-ish words of the coffee shop au i've been working on!

—

There’s a little cafe at the end of Steve’s block that he’s only ever been in once. 

It’s called Corroded Coffee and it’s dark in there and maybe a little pretentious, but not pretentious as in… people reading classic novels or having discussions about French Cinema. Pretentious in the sense that there’s an intimidating collection of vinyl records taking up half an entire wall and they use single origin arabica beans and the scary baristas look at you sideways if you order regular milk in your latte. 

He knows this last part because the one time he did stop in, shortly after he moved to the neighborhood, he asked for an iced vanilla cold brew with cream, and the redheaded girl behind the counter looked him up and down as she punched his order into an iPad. 

“Okay,” she said slowly, disdainful and bored like she was barely concealing an eye roll. “I guess that’s eleven dollars, if you’re sure that’s all you want.”

Steve was sure. He was also sure that he’d never forgive himself for spending so much on a single cup of coffee that he could probably make at home for about fifty cents, but… support local businesses? Use his company card? Also, he was too embarrassed to tell her to cancel the order. 

So. 

Anyway, it’s about three months later when he goes in there for the second time. This time, it’s because his coffee pot broke (a shitty off-brand Keurig that he bought on Amazon for about twenty bucks, which for the record is less than the cost of two iced coffees from this place), and he really has to get to work, and the coffee at the office is – fine, actually, but – whatever. 

Whatever.

The coffee in the office is fine, but he’s walking toward the train feeling like his hair and his tie are somehow both on sideways, and a customer pushes out of the café and into the street, bringing with them a wave of caffeinated air, and before Steve has the chance to make a conscious decision one way or another, he’s standing inside the shop, eyes adjusting to the sudden shift to dim lighting.

When he comes to his senses, there’s a brief moment where he considers just turning around and walking right back out, but before he has a chance, the guy behind the counter leans an elbow against the shoulder-height glass pastry case and says –

“Hey man, what can I get you?”

Too late. 

Steve blinks and focuses on him. He’s tallish with long hair that’s been pulled back into a puffy knot on top of his head, dish towel slung over his shoulder, indecipherable band tee, nails painted black, a flock of bats and a long line of perfect crescent moon phases running up his forearm, and – yeah. Steve, in his crisp Brooks Brothers button-up and ironed slacks, is definitely not the right kind of cool to be coming in here.

“You do want coffee, right?” the barista prompts. He raises his eyebrows in question. “I just watched you Pepe Le Pew your way in here, so.”

In spite of himself, Steve laughs. Call it the exhaustion. He takes a step closer to the counter. 

“You saw that?”

The man grins. “You’re hardly the first exhausted corporate zombie to stumble his way through my door.” He reaches for a paper cup, pen in hand. “What’ll it be?”

“Just – coffee?” Steve suggests, then he flushes. “That was dumb. Sorry. I uh – I don’t really know much about coffee. Just a normal one with milk?” Then, remembering last time, he says, “Oat milk. I guess.”

“One drip with oat milk, coming up. You want a muffin or anything with it?” He taps the glass case with the end of his pen. “These just came out of the oven. The cranberry orange.”

“Oh, I –” Steve eyes the muffins in the case, crystalline sugar on top, shiny and perfect-looking. He does kind of want one, but he pictures himself juggling it and the coffee and his phone and – “No, that’s fine. Just the coffee, thanks.”

The man shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He punches a few things into the iPad then flips it around for Steve to pay. “Three seventy five.”

Steve narrows his eyes. That… can’t possibly be correct based on his last experience with the place, but he taps his card and punches in a tip, then nods to the barista as he shuffles off to the end of the counter to wait for his drink. He sends another look toward the muffins, and his stomach grumbles; maybe there’ll be leftover bagels in the office from the morning’s sales meeting?

By the time his coffee is ready, he’s lost in a very detailed fantasy about veggie cream cheese, and the barista has to wave to get his attention to pass him the cup. When Steve takes it, the man produces a little brown paper box and wiggles it in his direction. Steve frowns, confused.

“Oh, that’s not mine. I didn’t –”

The man raises his eyebrows and holds it further toward Steve. “On the house," he says. "Take it.”

Steve sets down his coffee on top of the case and accepts the box, flipping it open to reveal a cranberry orange muffin wrapped in crinkly parchment paper. He closes the lid and gives the barista a smile. 

“You didn’t have to.”

“Obviously I didn’t have to,” the guy says. He rolls his eyes, but it’s not – it doesn’t make Steve feel stupid the way the other girl had. “You looked like you wanted one, so you got one. Now be a good boy and say thank you."

Steve feels his face heat. “Thank you.”

The barista nods in approval then gives him the ghost of a wink before turning to help another customer, and Steve reclaims his coffee, retreating to the door and back out into the cold.

—

He doesn’t really mean to go back the next day, but – well. The coffee had been good, okay, and the muffin had been really good. And it’s Friday, and he’s allowed a treat, and he obviously hasn’t had a chance to replace his own broken machine yet, so.

He doesn’t really have a choice. He’s here by necessity. That’s it.

“You’re back,” the barista says, eyeing him up and down when he gets to the front of the line. “Was my muffin that good, that you had to come crawling back for more the very next day?”

Steve, more alert this morning than he’d been yesterday, manages to smile like a normal human being. 

“Your muffin?”

“Our muffin,” the barista says. He spreads out his hands in front of himself. “New York’s muffin. The world’s muffin.”

“No, I meant –” Steve laughs. “You made them? It was good.”

“I know it was.” He shrugs, then taps the stack of cups on the counter next to him. “Coffee?”

Steve glances at the menu on the wall. He has a suburban Starbucks level of knowledge when it comes to this stuff, which basically means he knows the difference between like… a cappuccino and a latte, sort of but – not really?

“Just the same again, plain with oat milk,” he says. “That was fine yesterday.”

The barista narrows his eyes. “Fine?”

“Good,” Steve corrects. “It was good. Like I said, I don’t know a ton about –” He waves a hand through the air vaguely. “Whatever.” He fidgets under the barista’s continued scrutiny, then adds, “Maybe sweetened this time though? I added sugar when I got to my office yesterday.” Then belatedly, “Sorry.”

“Tell you what,” the man says at last, apparently taking pity on him. He picks up a cup. “I’ll make you something that I think you’ll like, and I won’t even charge you for it. That way if you hate it, you can just – dump it down the drain or something. No hard feelings.”

“I can pay,” Steve says, frowning. “I don’t want you to get in trouble for giving me a bunch of free stuff.”

“Oh, I won’t. The owner likes me,” the man says easily, already busy behind the espresso machine. A burst of steam comes shooting out in a cloud, and he offers Steve a smile. “What’s your name, by the way?”

“Steve,” he says. He hikes his bag higher on his shoulder where it’s slipping down. “Sorry, you probably needed that for the… the cup, or whatever.”

The barista’s smile widens, and he gives Steve another up-and-down look as he waits for the espresso to finish bubbling into the cup. “Nope. Just wanted to know.”

“Oh,” Steve says, feeling himself flush. He shoves his hands in his coat pockets to keep himself from fidgeting even more than he already is. “Okay, what’s yours then?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Kind of why I asked.”

The man places the cup on the counter and presses a lid into place, sliding it toward Steve along with another little paper box that, when Steve peeks inside, contains a single croissant. He takes a sip of the coffee, and it’s… delicious, unfortunately, vanilla and caramel and maybe chocolate too? And he’s pretty sure that’s real milk, thank god.

“Come back tomorrow and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“We’ll see,” Steve says mildly, taking another sip. “Thanks for the coffee.”

He gets a teasing little wave in return. 

“Have a good day at work, Steve.”

—

Robin is aghast when he tells her at drinks later that night.

“You’re saying he’s been there this whole time, and you’ve just been – what, walking past and not noticing?!” she asks, leaning forward in her seat. She takes a distressed sip of rosé and widens her eyes at him. “This whole time?”

“Maybe not,” he says defensively. “Maybe he’s new. Maybe – I don’t know.”

“You don’t just give out free coffee on your second day, Steve,” she says, exasperated. She picks up a fry and jabs it into the little pat of mayo on the edge of the plate, gesturing wildly with it before stuffing it in her mouth. “Free coffee and free pastries! He’s totally been there this whole time, and you were just too chicken shit to go in there and see him for yourself.”

“I literally met him by going in and seeing him.”

“Still.” She groans in frustration. “Ugh, I can’t believe you’re getting seduced via baked good. Literally if I could find one single solitary woman in this city who would give me free baked goods as a mating ritual, I’d let her step on my throat.” She places a hand on his forearm and gives him a very serious look. “My throat, Steve.”

He laughs and shakes her off. “You don’t know he’s trying to seduce me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You’re right,” she says. She finishes her wine and sets the empty glass on the bar with force. “The hot tattooed barista who keeps winking at you and giving you free shit for no reason is totally just trying to drum up a loyal customer base for his coffee shop.”

“I didn’t say he was hot.”

She gives him a contemptuous look. “Is he hot?”

He pokes at the lime wedge that’s floating in his gin and tonic and doesn’t meet her eye. “Maybe.”

“You’re blushing. He’s obviously hot. I hate you so much.”

“Okay, don’t – we live in the Village. It can’t possibly be that hard for you to find a lesbian who likes to bake.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Don’t stereotype. Just because we’re ladies and we have breasts.”

“I’m not stereotyping. I’m just saying: go to any plant store, pick a girl with a choppy haircut and a canvas tote bag.” He finishes his own drink and signals to the bartender for another round. “Odds are seventy thirty she’s a lesbian with a chocolate chip cookie recipe.”

“Literally every word out of your mouth just now was a stereotype. I’m breaking up with you.”

She turns her barstool away from him abruptly, and the guy seated on the other side of her blinks in alarm, looking at Steve over her shoulder with wide eyes. Steve gives him an apologetic look and places a hand on Robin’s arm, tugging her back around to face him. 

“Alright, come on, you’re scaring the public.”

She huffs, then gives the stranger a tight smile, then turns back to Steve. “You’re going back tomorrow, right? I’ll forgive you right now if you promise me you will.”

He sighs. “Why do you even care?”

“Because he’s hot,” she says, widening her eyes, “and he has tattoos, and he obviously wants to take you back to his place and do filthy, filthy things to you, Steve, and he knows how to make really good muffins.” She shakes him again. “Steve!”

“Yes!” he laughs, wrenching his arm free of her hold. “Fine, okay. Yes, I’ll go back tomorrow. I don’t even know his name yet. He said he’ll tell me if I do, so – I will.”

“Oh my god.” She buries her face in her hands. “I swear to god, if you fuck this up.”

—

Steve has always been a relatively confident guy. It’s not that. He’s not normally awkward or even shy. 

If anything, he’s better than average at blending in, even managing to convince his parents that he’s still the same person he was when he was a sports star back in high school: he finished his MBA without flaming out like half his class, he got a good-paying job in the city, he even goes back home to Indiana once or twice a year for Thanksgiving or Christmas. 

He’s normal. He’s… acceptable.

Just – he also knows when he doesn’t know something, and that’s when he gets flustered.

Like now, Saturday morning. He’s been standing in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom and staring at himself for a long time – probably too long – fiddling with the cuffs of his jeans and the swoop of his hair and the weird little… thing his sweater is doing where it bunches up around his waist. 

Maybe he should change. Or just… not go? Robin would forgive him, right?

Robin absolutely would not forgive you, says a horrible little voice in the back of his mind that sounds suspiciously like the woman herself. She absolutely would not, and then she’d come directly over to your apartment and let herself in and drag you there herself.

Fine. Just go. 

He takes a deep breath and releases it in a sharp huff. He can do this. He can totally, obviously, absolutely do this. It’s literally just leaving his building, walking three hundred feet down the street to the corner, and entering a coffee shop. That’s all he has to do. That’s all.

He does it.

When he walks in, he casts a curious glance around the space since, for the first time in here, he’s not in a hurry. It seems like no one else is either: it’s busy in a different way than it’s been for the past few mornings, fewer people calling out orders and pushing back and forth through doors, more occupied armchairs and tables with laptops. There’s a record playing in the background, something scratchy and smooth, interrupted by the sound of occasional jets of steam issuing from behind the counter.

And behind the counter is – Steve feels disappointment curdle in his stomach. 

Oh. 

The scary redhead. She’s sitting on a barstool with a knee drawn up to her chest, studying her nails and pretending like she hasn’t seen him. He steps closer to the counter, too close to ignore, and she sighs, looking up at him like his very presence is an affront to her. In spite of himself, he feels a little bubble of nervous laughter crawl up the back of his throat, and he swallows it down.

“Yeah?” she asks.

“Just, uh – a coffee?”

“It’s all coffee,” she tells him in a bored voice. “Are you asking for a drip coffee?”

“Yeah, just that, with oat milk,” he says, then adds, “Thanks.”

She jabs at her iPad then flips it around for him. “Eight dollars. Oat milk’s at the end of the bar, you can add it yourself.”

He gives her an awkward smile as he pays, and she just stares back at him impassively. He’s slipping his card back into his wallet and preparing to run away with his tail between his legs when the door behind the counter pushes open, and Steve’s barista – the nice one who gives him real milk and doesn’t glare at him – backs through it, balancing a tray of cinnamon buns in his arms.

He turns, then spots Steve, and his face breaks into a smile. He sets down his tray.

“Knew you’d be back,” he says, tilting his head with a teasing smile on his face. “Max, this is Steve. We like Steve.”

“This is Steve?” She gives him a once-over, then turns to make a face at the other man. “Seriously?”

Now that’s – “Okay,” Steve says. “I’m literally standing right here.”

“Yes. This is Steve, and today Steve would like a white mocha with two pumps of cinnamon.”

“That’s disgusting.” She makes a face. “Anyway, he paid for a plain drip coffee.”

“I didn’t ask what he paid for. I told you what he’s going to get. Can you make it for him, please?”

She glares at Steve’s barista then slips off her stool with a groan and the deepest eye roll Steve has ever seen in his life. 

“Whatever. It’s your shop.”

“Ignore her,” he tells Steve in a voice loud enough for her to hear. “Max likes to think she’s funny, but she’s actually just judgmental.”

She sticks her tongue out at him then sets about ignoring them, disappearing into a cloud of steam. He lifts up onto his toes to lean forward over the top of the pastry case and get a look at Steve.

“You’re very comfy casual today,” he says, dropping back to his own side. He raises an eyebrow. “Cute sweater.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, feeling himself flush. He tugs at the hem of it as he casts another look around the room. “This is your shop? I didn’t realize when you said the owner liked you, you meant…”

“Yep, all mine,” he says. “I can shamelessly flirt with as many customers as I want. No boss to tell me to get back to work.”

Steve widens his eyes. “Flirting with me, and he won’t even tell me his name.”

The man grins at him, resting his face in one hand. “I guess you’ve earned it.” Steve feels his stomach do a flip. “I’m Eddie.”

“Eddie,” he says, trying it out. It suits him, Steve thinks. “Nice to meet you. Officially.”

“Likewise,” Eddie says as Max passes him the coffee and returns to her stool with a huff. Eddie slides it to Steve across the counter. “Your very disgusting sugary coffee, handcrafted with love by our sweetest barista.”

“Thanks,” Steve laughs, accepting the drink. He pries the lid off to peer inside. “Is this the same as yesterday?”

“Nah, I’m still figuring out what you like,” Eddie says. He waits for Steve to take a sip – another winner, maybe even better than yesterday – then says, “Are you busy tonight?”

Steve looks up from his coffee. Eddie is watching him with an amused tilt to his smile. Steve swallows.

“Am I busy tonight?”

“That’s what I asked. Are you?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Steve clears his throat. “No.”

“Okay,” Eddie says as he folds a cinnamon roll into a box and nudges it in Steve’s direction. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

Steve accepts the box, and before he can second guess himself he says, “Yeah, okay.”

Eddie’s smile is slow and easy. “Good. I wrote my number on the inside of the lid. Text me your address? I’ll pick you up at seven.”

—

When he gets home, he calls Robin, freaking out.

“I didn’t fuck it up,” he says by way of greeting when she answers on the third ring.

“What?”

“Hot tattooed… barista guy,” Steve says, pacing frantic circles around his living room and ripping a hand through his hair. “I didn’t fuck it up. His name’s Eddie, and he gave me a cinnamon roll, and it was really good, and – okay, so it turns out he owns the shop, he doesn’t just work there and –” He stops, staring out the window at the building across the street, unseeing. “And we’re having dinner tonight.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the phone, then a shout, then more silence, and then she says, “Holy shit. What are you going to wear?”

—

After much debate and two facetime calls and eventually Robin just physically marching the three blocks over to help him decide in person, and then him forbidding her from sticking around to interrogate Eddie – when the buzzer goes at seven sharp, 

When the buzzer goes at seven sharp, no games played, he stares at the box on the wall in alarm, half expecting it to come to life and bite his face off. When it doesn’t, he recovers (barely) and jabs at the button to let Eddie inside. 

[verstiledolleee]

Food For Thought!

T141 x Southern!reader

+ Simon "Ghost" Riley x Southern!reader

Tags: fem!reader! plantonic with the rest of the crew but you and Simon have a little something something yk?, canon typcial crusing, fluff, the boys just being silly, american and british bickering

a/n: so remember that little brain fart I had? so this is what happens when your bored with nothing to do <<33 I know that this won't do many southerns justice, we're all different from different cities to towns but I just wanted to share this with yall :)) also please tell me where yall from! I really want to know! Enjoy!

"What the hell is this (reader).." Price mumbled under his breath. He cranked his neck back as he looked at you with disgust. You rolled your eyes as you set the plate of fried chicken, string beans, and a nice, thick, creamy and chewy mac-n-cheese. "Okay, I'll go get the sweet tea. Do not and I mean do not touch anything!" You warned, leaving the dineing room to the kitchen. Soap came in as Ghost followed. "Aye. The hell is that?" Soap asked, sniffing the air to the unfamillar smell.

Price hunched his shoulder, and turned to the kitchen as you digged into the fridge trying to find the homemade sweet tea you made this morning. "I don't know, she made this mess. It looks greasy." He huffed. "I heard that! You haven't taste it yet!" You came back with a huge jug of sweet tea, the men looking at you with bewilderment. Gaz, running late had came into the dining room, his cheeky smile fading once the scent of southern food hit his nose.

"What's that?" He looked over to the abunces of food. He smiled as he turned to you and helped you with the jug of tea. "Thank you Gaz, anyways. I know you brits-"

"I'm not British." Soap shouted with offense. You all looked at him and then turning the attention back to you. "Anyways! This here? This here is the shit. Your taste buds will never feel the same after you eat these homemade classics of the south!" You squeaked. The men looked over at thefoood, the grease and butter glowing in the light. The men sruvnhed their noses as they groaned in disgusted.

Your feelings where slightly hurt, but as a proud (southern state) native, you must bring them the food from the home of the free. Eitehr way, any food you cook could explode their brains. "Think we should try it L.T?" Soap asked looking up at him. Simon had a bit of a soft spot for you. He loved your american accent, the way you had some much pride and respectful for yourself. He thought it was attractive. Might I say sexy? He was head over heels fpr you and wanted you to like him as much as possible. And if that means to eat your seemingly gross and fatty american food, then so be it.

"Wouldn't hurt to try." He simply said. "Really? Don't wanna be fat like them americans!" Soap joked. You reached over and punched his shoulder as he laughed. "Oh please! Half the people in this country needs a nice oral cleansing..”

Soap rolled his eyes and ignored your jab at him and moved on. “I think we should try it. Don’t seem so bad.” Ghost mumbled as he sat down next to you, his arm resting on your chair. “Really?” Gaz sighed.

“Yeah. Don’t seem so bad. Just Mac-n-Cheese.” He huffed at Gaz with a slight scorn to his tone. “Whateva you say I guess..” Soap sighed as he sat himself down at the food. “I want to try the tea first.” Simon said as he pointed to the tea jug. “Sure!” You stood up and pour each and everyone of you a cup of homemade natural born tea.

“Alright! Drink up!” You cheered. Price, oddity sniffed it and pushed the drink away. “No.” Ghost lifted his mask up, and took a sip before hacking and lammend the glass on the table. “AUGH! AUHN! WHAT THE FUCK?!” He screamed as you laughed at his intolerance to the sweetness of the tea.

Gaz just smacked his lips and pushed the cup away from him as well. “Too sweet, urgh!” He groaned as he smacked his lips and slapped his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Meanwhile Soap was still taking sip after sip of his drink, almost gone at this point. “Seems like you liked it Soap!” You giggled.

“I just like sweet stuff alright?” He chuffed as he sucked the life out of the cup. “I win!” Soap scoffed as he snatched Price’s cup of tea from him. Price didn’t seem to mind anyways. “You’re not gonna try Cap’?” He shook his head no, “I need to watch my blood sugar nowadays.” You chuckled at his words. Such an old man thing to say. Or someone who has diabetes. Either way it’s kinda funny. Not really.

“Okay try the Mac-n-Cheese now!!”

(Should I add onto this?)

[raihanfucker241]

ok my favessss in no order. many of these are fairly popular i think so most people have probably already read them but anyway. explicit below the cut. ❤️s for like Super faves

More to be added i’ve just had this in my drafts for well over a month now and figured it’s time

■ Iced tea by missusk ❤️

teen & up | leon has too many long island iced teas. split in leon & raihan’s POVs

■ dream in my soul, and i won't let it go by notavodkashot

teen & up | pining idiots and navigating life post leon losing his title (read the longer sequel too)

■ dandelion by superstellar

teen & up | hanahaki disease fic (warning: sad)

■ Kill Your Heroes by Winddrag0n ❤️

teen & up | the boys get sloshed and wake up in unova

■ how to share someone with a possessive lizard by zofgk

teen & up | chari is not interested in sharing leon with raihan

■ Cold by iroiroriro

gen | very fluffy and cute with one of my fave tropes

■ Warm by iroiroriro ❤️

teen & up | same trope as cold but this time in the opposite direction

■ to win at life by Evening_winds

gen | series. delicious mutual pining through the years

■ from me to you by microcosmo ❤️

teen & up | au adjecent. leon becomes hop’s guardian after the passing of their mother. more hop centric than raileon but theyre there in the bg. this is really good please. i cried

■ DMs (orphan_account) ❤️

gen | raihan opens his dm requests on instagram. i really love thisssssssss. wonder who wrote it 🥺 thank you for leaving it up

■ funny how it works out, innit? by symphe

teen & up | proposals 🥺

■ Found by GlitterGluwu

teen & up | first kiss at a new years party

■ by any beans necessary by Evening_winds ❤️

gen | raileon coffee shop au my beloved. barista leon and university lecturer raihan

■ competitive child rearing by antikytheras

gen | single dad raihan and leon with their kids. two fics, just linking the series page

■ Return to Me by SadinaSaphrite and tearsontherocks ❤️

mature | king & knight au. i know i tell literally everyone to read this but you gottaaaaaa you gottaaaaaa. peak literature i’ve read it multiple times despite it being literal novel length

■ Sophomores by timkons

teen & up | american high school au

■ TLC by CrabsCanRead

gen | au where raihan runs a pokemon daycare

■ Virtually Real by CrabsCanRead

teen & up | au where raihan’s a playtester for a new pokemon vr game

■ half baked by VegetaLGBT

gen | au where raihan is a baker and leon (with no sweet tooth) keeps stopping by just to see him. i just think it’s sweet lol

■ 無自覚な恋に気付かせて by Yumiii 🇯🇵

gen | raihan’s been pining for leon for ages, so when he says he’s going to a match making party he joins in

■ 青い炎と裂傷 by 灰 🇯🇵

teen & up | after accidentally kissing as kids (taking raihan’s first kiss) raihan makes leon promise to take responsibility and marry him when they grow up. but is leon the only one who still remembers?

■ Eternity in a Second by murphy_stoffelis

explicit | au where raihan accidentally summons a demon (leon). check out the rest of the series too, it’s good. (cw switching iirc)

■ Sponsored by iroiroriro ❤️

explicit | leon gets sponsored to review lube (cw kbdn)

■ Helping Hand by bananacan ❤️

explicit | leon breaks his arms and raihan has to "help him out"

■ dreams of pillow talk by zofgk

explicit | two dorks figuring out their relationship & sex

■ secondary typing by bukkunkun

explicit | some humans have typings like pokemon, and raihan is dragon type. kinda abo-y i guess? (cw kbdn)

■ Late Night Live Show by Redawilo

explicit | camboy raihan

■ Challenge Accepted by WonderWells ❤️

explicit | leon dares raihan to teach him how to kiss

■ Dosage by Morpheel

explicit | needed to add some classic abo here too (cw kbdn)

[astroyongie]

Hi! Can I request scent for Monsta x? Thank you 🫶🏻

Monsta X Scents They Would Like

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:

Shownu

ᝰ.ᐟ Based on his birth chart, Shownu is the type to enjoy his partner to have soft smells on them so they arent too much. for example the scent of soft jasmine is really a to go  

ᝰ.ᐟ Perfume Idea : Lush – Vanillary: Its a really sweet vanilla bean scented perfume but we can find the hints of jasmine in it that Shownu loves. it's a perfume that will make him feel snuggly and soft with you .

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:

Minhyuk

ᝰ.ᐟ Mingyuk is a man who loves dark smells, they can be quite strong and intoxicating even just like smoky vanilla which is probably the type of smell he loves the most on someone

ᝰ.ᐟ Perfume Idea: Dior – Hypnotic Poison: This perfume has an almond scent to it automatically making it sweet but we can also finds undertones of vanilla, and notes of musk in it which brings that dangerous feel to it.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:

Kihyun

ᝰ.ᐟ To seduce this man you need a perfume that is intoxicating because Kyuhyun doesn't work with soft perfumes. usually fragrances like musk are his favorite on people's skin

ᝰ.ᐟ Perfume Idea:  Guerlain – Angelique Noire: It's a dark fragrance with the primal scent of green vanilla, but it also has an elegant smell with the undertones of musk which makes it a perfect perfume to seduce Kihyun

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:

Hyungwon

ᝰ.ᐟ I feel like this man loves bourbon vanilla scents on people because they are a scent that are secure and also timeless. You can always wear them in any occasion and it would be perfect

ᝰ.ᐟ Perfume Idea: Guerlain – Shalimar:It's the perfect description of a timeless and regal perfume thanks to its notes of classic vanilla, leather, and of course a few notes of citrus

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:

Jooheon

ᝰ.ᐟ  In Jooheon's case, I seems like he enjoys mysterious scents, like the ones you tr so hard to remember but you can't forget. tones of myrrh on his partners skin really does the magic to him

ᝰ.ᐟ Perfume Idea: Xerjoff – Lira → This perfume is quite something Jooheon would love on his partner. Its main scent is spiced blood orange but it has undertones of caramel, and even notes of vanilla. It makes this perfume darkly sweet.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:

I.M

ᝰ.ᐟ Changkyun likes when his partner has a sophisticated fragrance, something that is present yet not too much. I feel like dry spices would be the type of smell he appreciates the most

ᝰ.ᐟ Perfume Idea: Creed – Royal Oud → Changkyun would love this on his partner, it's a spicy oud with a clean scent with a refined finish executive which makes this perfect a high level luxury one to have on your skin

[woncon]

➳ deal with the devil

➶ enhypen hyung line x demon!reader ｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ "See? Who's the victim and who's the hunter is a matter of opinion. You've got the throwing star, but your neck bleeds because of my teeth. Who's who now?"

The whole university went out to haunt people on Halloween night, but you're in detention. So you're playing a game of hunter and prey. They're the hunters, you're the prey.

Only for a while.

➴ genre: suggestive, demon au, warlock au, supernatural college au, pre-poly / friends in a big situationship

: ̗̀➛ warnings: very slight knife play, jakehoon (not actually, you'll get it), seduction as manipulation (it works!), predator/prey with a twist, biting, making out, actually not as dark as it seems

⌨ :: 4.2K words ♡ ︵ . .

⁀➷ i'm a little late, but it's done. happy halloween, engenes! 🎃

⁀➷ thanks to @wonsheep for beta-ing this <3 i'll give you a pack of jelly beans later.

➳ mlist

The cursed piano plays his favorite classic in the Music Room. Melancholic, dark melodies float towards you as the heel of your shoe beats up the silence of the abandoned corridor. You twirl the sweets in your pocket. Jungwon gave them to you before he left to go and scare people. He probably did it out of pity, since you couldn't go with him to the usual Halloween campus program. The piano in the distance starts a new song, and you take off to push the arched door of the Hall of the Immortals, decorated with vines and skulls. The wood wails to let you enter the hall, where the rituals of demons and witches usually take place. Right now there are no reddish pentagrams painted on the floor or heavy, sinister books and bones on the table. Only a few candles flicker and surround a table with four mugs on it. There's a fifth, held in the warlock’s palm, and he's about to plunge a dollop of thick, brownish liquid from the pot with great care into it.

You wait for the door to slam behind you, shutting out the piano's dismal song, but instead somebody catches the heavy door, and you are perhaps a little startled by the sudden presence behind you.

“Mugs? Really?” Heeseung looks on with disbelief as he sidesteps you. “The school has so many goblets, there's one for every rite. And you put the curse into a mug?”

“Don't be such a snob,” says Jay, placing the filled cup next to the others. He neatly arranges them in a circle.

“I'm not a snob,” replies Heeseung darkly.

“Imagine that it's just pumpkin flavored hot chocolate. Four really is just that, so maybe you don't even have to imagine.”

Although, the way Jay is looking at Heeseung right now, he might want the elder to choose the one with the curse. To somehow relieve the tension you sense, you walk over to the table and eye the similarly plain brown china, from which a fragrant, spicy steam rises.

“They're cute,” you note.

Heeseung snorts and leans against one of the tables against the wall. The light from the candles doesn't reach there, and his tall figure is completely lost in the darkness, in the shadow. Remembering how lonely and desolate the university's castle is this evening, you wish he would drink the curse, that he'd be the one to be hunted down tonight. He's so good at blending in, that you probably wouldn't catch him.

“Where did you get them?” You stroke one of the mugs’ handles and stare hard, in hope that you recognise the cursed one.

“From the kitchen. Someone in the divination department has already got the mugs in advance, so that we can paint on them at Christmas.”

It was the same last year, you painted on mugs before the break. Everyone had a chance to get creative and take the results home. But for now, you're going to play. Christmas is still a distant, frost-white dream. At the hour of death, when the bodies crawl out of the grave and the children dress up as monsters while the monsters themselves walk among them, you are going to play a game in which someone nearly dies. 

One of you.

The door opens with another slam. An impatient demon rushes to the table.

“Are you ready? Is the curse in there?” asks Jake, leaning so far against the table that the drinks are shaken and the tip of his horn almost grazes Jay's skin. “Can we start?”

His excitement spreads to the candles. They flare up, burning orange and giving off enough light for you to see the tip of Heeseung's boot.

“Sunghoon is not here yet.”

“Did he chicken out?” Heeseung asks mockingly.

“Haha, no,” replies Sunghoon, who also emerges from the shadows, but not through the door. He came through the secret witch's passage from the hall, which the demons don't know about, so you can only guess which way the entrance might be. “I've just spiced up the curse to make sure it's effective. With snake venom.”

And the flames burn faster, even more brightly. The white wax drips in hot drops down the melting stump, as if to symbolize Jake's anticipation. You, on the other hand, who has no effect on the lights with your emotions, are merely blown away because the contents of the vial Sunghoon brought you mix so easily with the hot chocolate that after Jay spins the tray on which the mugs are standing, you have no idea which one contains the poison-turbocharged curse. 

You're about to find out.

You're all gathered around the table, and it's not just Jake and the candles that are radiating excitement anymore. You can hardly breathe.

“Everybody take one. On three," Jay says in a serious tone. “One, two, three.”

You reach for one of the cups that looks sympathetic. With a trembling hand you lift it to your mouth.

"Ouch, it's hot!" exclaims Jake.

"Obviously. Because it's hot chocolate," Heeseung rolls his eyes. Sunghoon scowls at him.

“Do you feel strange?” Jay asks Jake, who is fanning his tongue.

“It just hurts like hell.”

Finally, after the interlude, you pluck up the courage and drink your own. You are careful, only taking a tiny sip, so you don't burn yourself like others, but it immediately starts burning your mouth and then your throat. You grip your skin, fingers curling into claws, hoping to scrape the tantalizing taste out of you. This is not what a pumpkin flavored hot chocolate is like, not at all.

You fall to your knees, gasping for air. A supporting hand brushes your shoulder. When you feel better, you stand up.

You feel immortal, and yet very, very vulnerable. Weak. Like a victim.

///

Your friends are lurking to kill you.

Three important events have led to this moment, as far as you can tell. First, the day you were learning in demonology class about the various torture methods that demons have developed together with witches. One of these was the curse of immortality, where a person is immortal and can therefore be tortured beyond the extreme. Then came the time when you summoned a spirit with Sunghoon's ouija board. The spirit lady possessed Sunghoon and flirted with Jake through him. Jake was so embarrassed that the armchair underneath him immediately caught on fire, and half the lounge was burnt down before they could put the flames out. It didn't end well for the community space, nor for you. That's when you were banned from going out into the human world on Halloween to haunt. So that led to the third event, when you were wondering what to do to distract yourselves when Halloween came. What could you do to have fun? Jake suggested horror movies. Heeseung said those are boring because what's the point of watching killers hunt when you could be the ones hunting. And the picture came together. 

That's how your friends happened to be hunting you down today. With crossbows, knives, swords, anything and everything they can find. If they catch you before dawn and make you give up, they win. If you hold out and survive, you win. 

The scariest part is you don't know what they're up to. How they're going to get you, and with what.

You fear Heeseung the most. His family is a traditional one of demons who sacrifice goats on full moons and blood moons. With such experience and your horns twisted into the shape that goats’ ones are, it's easy to imagine you as the animal and take your blood until you beg for them to stop. It's just a sick fantasy, you reassure yourself. Heeseung can't see you as a goat if he recalls you kissing in his bed a few days ago. He probably doesn't do that to sacrificial goats. There is some level of tender emotion here.

You turn in after one of the rows of lockers. You don't know exactly where you are. You don't usually have classes in this corner of campus, and it doesn't help that there's no lighting. Yesterday, colorful decorations hung everywhere and talking, red-eyed skeletons strutted at the doors of classrooms to greet students arriving for class. Real bats fluttered around the ceiling, occasionally getting into the hair of passers-by. Pumpkins were placed here and there and their scent was everywhere. But the memory is not worth much now. The university is haunted. A murderers' den. The den of your murderers.

And as much as you're a successful demon, proud of your professors, at this moment you're nothing but a frightened victim, not sure if you're capable of being a ‘final girl’. But you're trying as hard as you can.

In your pocket, you're fiddling with your sweets. Your palms are sweating, your sweets may be melting soon. When the candy papers make noise, you quickly reach out and look around. It is deathly quiet. Everything is still. You've long since left the piano's surroundings behind you. Have they banded together to hunt you down as a team, or are they looking for you individually? Where are the witches' passages? Do Jake and Heeseung use the demons' ones?

You can't hide your fear. Your breathing gets heavier with each passing minute.

It's just a game. Just a game, you remind yourself. Or at least it is now. In the Middle Ages, it wasn't considered a game by the poor people who were tortured to madness.

Something snaps. Must be the knightly armor worn by the fanged pig statues in the corridors. It's been knocked off, then it fell softly to the carpet. What did they knock it down with? That's an easy question to answer when you hear the heavy weapon being dragged across the carpet. A big poleaxe, a very big poleaxe is coming, and it's coming for you.

Your footsteps become frantic, but you try to remain silent and get as far away from your pursuer as possible. The corridor ends in a staircase somewhere, you can make it that far and then decide which way to go. Except that somewhere nearby a door opens. Right in the direction you're going. You're forced to hide in the nearest room before you're trapped halfway down. As quietly as you can, you push down on the handle, squeeze through the gap and throw your back against the door. You close your eyes in the darkness and try to slow your breathing. In, out, in, out.

But you're not alone here either. Something squeaks in the dark, then croaks. Hisses and scratches. It makes a throat sound, rises, then finally lands on your shoulder. It's the three-headed bird, the university mascot. You don't have to see it to know it's rubbing its raven head against your hair. That's the head on the far left. Then comes the owl, and finally the hawk.

He's waiting for a treat. You give him something every time you see him. If you don't, he starts throwing a fit, which means it starts squawking loudly with all three heads as if were an alarm.

“Hi, Casper,” you greet him quietly. “Look what I brought you.”

You reach into your pocket and take out the first piece of candy. Carefully, you peel it out of the wrapper and drop it in the crow's mouth. It happily closes up. Then the owl's opens. You pop the next candy into it, and so far you're very proud of your thriftiness. The hawk is also waiting for its turn, but there's only empty paper in your pocket when you're rummaging around. You remember that you ate the third piece you had, because the poison still tasted awful, even after you'd swallowed the disgusting sip. You sucked on the candy during the rules discussion, and it tasted so good. At this moment, you miss it very much.

The hawk closes his mouth, opens it again, makes a soft noise, then nips the back of your hand.

“I'm sorry, but that's it. That's all, okay? I'll bring you more next time if you don't open your beak, hmm?” You bargain pleadingly. 

Your physical wellness depends on a sugar-addicted monster bird. As it turns out, Capser is not on your side. He flies off your shoulder, his wings rustling loudly in the dark. Then his voice rings out. All three of his mouths start to wag at once, wanting more than two grains of sugar.

“Fuck.”. 

You need to get out. Quickly.

You start feeling around the furniture. You're in the library, you know the feel of the old armchairs. Since most of the lounge burned down, you've been coming here under strict supervision. As you've been here many times, you know there's a secret demon passage in the wall. If you can get there, maybe you'll get lucky and your blood won't stain the furniture. And if you're lucky, you won't run into anybody in there who wants to stab you either.

You start walking carefully and almost fall on your face, tripping in one of the coffee tables. The door creaks open and the bard clatters on the floor of the room. Scrambling on your aching foot, you reach the secret door and throw yourself behind it. And then, with your ankle throbbing, you dash.

You run and run, as if it was the hot, angry hell at your heels.

Somehow you get to your own room. A pentagram lies reassuringly on the floor. You fall to your knees in it, breathing thunderously. You could do with a fiery cup of coffee or an energy drink to give you strength. But at least this hand-drawn pentagram radiates security. It's like you've found sanctuary.

You need a plan.

But when a masked figure emerges from under Jungwon's blanket, you can't think of plans. You leap up to dart for the door, but a sword stands in your way. If you keep going, it will cut you in two. Instead, you jump back into the pentagram and look up at your captor. His mask is a weeping drama face. He's wrapped himself in a cloak that covers his entire face. You cannot tell if the horns you see belong to him or to the mask. He waves his gloved hand at you.

“What's it going to be? Are you going to skewer me?”

The masked man shakes his head. He gets up from the bed, now towering over you. He draws a question mark in the air with the tip of his sword, then points at himself.

“You?” you ask. “What about you?”

He shrugs. 

Maybe this guessing game is worse than if he'd thrown you up on the edge of his sword in the first minute. Him playing games with you makes you nervous. You're surprised to find your fear is fading. This could have something to do with the beneficial effects of the pentagram. In any case, you're able to forge a plan.

“Oh, come on, now. Take the mask off.”

He shakes his head.

You think about the chains under your bed.

You are not allowed to use weapons. Their wounds will not heal as yours will thanks to the curse. But no one said you couldn't use your charm. If your starting point is that you've been in all of their mouths, you have a chance to play this card. What do you have to lose by trying? If they all want to play, that's fine. If they underestimate you, you can take advantage. They have the weapons, but you're smart. If you push fear and panic to the back of your mind, you can succeed. You can succeed because you're tired of running around with them just waiting here and there, chasing you. 

Let this be a game for you, too.

“Should I guess who's under there?”

This time he nods.

“Then you let me go?”

He pauses, thinking. Then he nods enthusiastically. 

He should know better than to make a deal with the devil.

“Hmm. Give me a minute.”

You get up and dust off your knees. It feels good to be back to yourself. You're not looking at a killer anymore, you're looking at one of your friends dressed as a killer. But which one? Heeseung hates wearing masks at ceremonies, not to mention he's not the playful type. If he has to stab you to win, he'll stab you. He's out. You're taking a good look at the masked man. He's got sneakers peeking out from under his robe. Jay's wearing brown boots. That leaves Sunghoon and Jake.

How exciting.

You reach for the top button of your shirt and undo it. And then the next one. “Wow. I'm so hot from running around.”

When you reach the third button, and most of your chest is perfectly visible, the candle on the desk comes to life and burns orange. You smile in satisfaction and put your hands on your hips.

“So will you take the mask off, Jake?”

He tilts his head towards the table, then sighs in disappointment. He takes the mask off.

“You took advantage of my embarrassment!”

“That's it. Now come here. Your hair is all messed up.”

Jake drops the sword, takes off the cloak, and obeys. You take the mask from him and arrange his locks.

“Good,” you nod. You step out of the pentagram. “Claude eam,” you murmur, and the pentagram glows red.

“What? Did you really just lock me up?” the boy asks, stunned. “But I let you go!”

“Sorry, but I haven't forgiven you for threatening me with a sword yet," you blow a kiss in the air, then reach for the robe resting on Jungwon's bed. “And I need to borrow this.”

“What are you up to?”

You just wink, then put on his mask. It's interesting to wear the enemy's face. When you put on the cloak too, you transform completely. You go from prey to full-fledged hunter.

“Oh. You look hot like this.”

“Thanks.”

///

It's not difficult to find Sunghoon, you just have to follow the sound of the poleaxe scraping on the carpet. You tap his hunched back. He looks up.

“Jakey! Did you find them?”

You nod. Sunghoon straightens up completely.

“Where?”

You take him by the arm and lead him to the nearest room. Luckily, there are windows and enough moonlight to keep you from tripping. You're in the dining room. A fitting location for what you plan to do with Sunghoon. You point to a long table with a tablecloth that reaches to the floor. Sunghoon approaches. He slowly kneels beside it, then peers under the tablecloth.

You take advantage of this and push him to the ground, straddling his hips.

"Jake!" he exclaims in surprise. "What are you doing?”

You put your finger over his mouth. You run it down his chin, down his neck, over his Adam's apple, down and down and down his chest. When your palm strokes his stomach under his shirt, Sunghoon's mouth opens, his head dropping to the carpet. With your free hand, you pull the scarf from your pocket. You stole it from one of the ghost decorations and put it to good use when you blindfold the boy. He looks irresistible like this under you. You take off the mask and kiss his chin.

“We have to find-” You grab his hips. He immediately falls silent.

As you push his shirt up his stomach, he thrusts his hips up. You clasp his wrists, lift them above his head, and pull a magic cuff from your other pocket. You stole this from the torture chamber exhibit. It doesn't open with a key, only with a spell. Sunghoon can entertain himself with it.

You cuff both his hands to the leg of the table. You lean to his ear.

“What were you planning to do with that axe?” you whisper.

Sunghoon stiffens under you, but soon relaxes again.

“I didn't mean to hurt you, just to scare you.”

“You succeeded. I don't want to get you laid either, just to get you horny. Did I succeed as well?” You sit on his groin. Sunghoon moans. “Yeah, it seems so.”

“Please…”

“Don't worry. I'll be back soon. There are only two of you left.”

You climb down and out from under the table. The successful hunt gives you endorphins. You can't wait for the next victim to walk into your trap.

///

You don't have to search for long. As soon as a throwing star whizzes past you, all you have to do is turn around and there's Jay. In his hand, he's twirling the next throwing star.  “Give up.”

“No, thank you.”

He throws the next one, which rips your shirt, but doesn't hurt you. You back up to the nearest wall and let him use you as a target. Jay misses again and again. He doesn't want to hurt you, and that's comforting..

“Give up,” he steps in front of you. “Please. We never should have agreed to play this game in the first place.”

You put your arm around his waist and pull him closer to you. “I'm fine.”

“As of now. But you haven't met Heeseung, have you? You didn't see that fire in his eyes.”

“When we meet, I'll defeat him.”

“How?”

"With my mouth," you tell him. You stroke his jugular with the tip of your nose. "I'll beat you with my mouth too."

You lick his skin, then sink your teeth into it, the movement soft and light like a knife in butter. Jay's forehead falls to your shoulder, but he doesn't flinch, doesn't resist. You lean away and smile up at him. His eyes are misty.

"See? Who's the victim and who's the hunter is a matter of opinion. You've got the throwing star, but your neck bleeds because of my teeth. Who's who now?"

“I'm... dizzy.”

“I know.”

You help him slide down the wall and stretch out on the ground. By the time he lands, he's asleep. 

You smeared your teeth with a sleeping potion called vampire kisses. You bought it as a joke, you’ve never used it before. You had to go back to the room to get it, but at least you could see that Jake was okay. He summoned himself a console, and he's playing on it in the middle of the pentagram. 

You wrap the stolen cloak around Jay's body, then head to finish your hunt for the day. 

You plan the finale to be truly spectacular and grandiose.

///

The cursed piano doesn't play alone. Ten fingers rest on its keys and duet with it. The music is somber and dark, deep but inviting. You hope Heeseung, your last killer, your last prey, will come to hear your serenade. You’re playing for him.

You aren't disappointed. He doesn't even try to hide his footsteps, as if he was just waiting to see when you'll reveal yourself to him.

"It's a painful song," he says when you finish. You turn towards him on the bench.

With the light of the candles you have lit for the occasion, his face is half lost in the shadows, but you easily recognise the pocket knife held loosely in his hand.

“Painful, but beautiful. Just like you.”

Heeseung chuckles. “How can I stab you when you’re flirting with me?”

You shrug. “Be creative.”

“Yeah?”

He steps closer. He lifts your chin with the tip of the knife. There's indeed a wildness in his eyes, but Jay misread that. He's not like this because he wants to kill, but because he can give chase. You know it because your gaze would be the same if you looked in the mirror. The happiness of a successful hunt turns Heeseung's face red and makes his eyes sparkle, but he doesn't actually want to hurt you.

One by one, he cuts off your buttons and looks you in the eye. They all fall to the ground and scatter.

“I met Sunghoon on the way here.”

“Did you like the view?”

Heeseung's tongue strokes his fang. – “You're evil. Wicked.”

“I wouldn't say that. I'm rather consistent. They were the ones who made a deal with the devil. These are the consequences.”

“And what do I deserve?”

“I'm thinking about it.” Even though you say that, you already know what you want to do with him. You want him to remember that you defeated him for a long time.

“That means you're not giving up, right?” Heeseung helps you out of your shirt.

“If I remember the rules correctly, the game is over when I beg.”

“Understood.” He sits down next to you on the piano bench and kisses you. You part your lips and brush your tongue against his. Heeseung shudders. Your palm slides to his thigh, and he drops the knife. 

Of the four, he is the most hungry for touch. He doesn't like to admit it, hiding behind his smug, cold and mocking mask, but when you’re making out, it's obvious. You lean in close, let him touch you where he wants, and when he can't think of anything but you, you ask him.

“Did I win?”

“You won.”

It's as sweet to hear that from his lips as it is to kiss them. It's as sweet as Jay's blood, the fire from Jake's embarrassment, or even as sweet as Sunghoon's commitment to drag a bard across campus just to scare you. Sweet enough to make your victory complete.