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aliennooboo · 1 year

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I was asked to tell more about the holidays in my legacy gameplay, so here is a super long and detailed post on the subject! 😊

How I use holidays in my game

I used to hate the holidays, cos I saw them as something my sims had to participate in and there was always so much pressure to complete all the traditions! But then I cracked it...

Holidays are a great way to add objectives to gameplay! When every day is some kind of a holiday with its own theme, there's always something for my sims to do.

I tick the "day off" box only if the holiday is a major one or the traditions would feel too rushed if my sim worked on the same day.

I try to have a lot of outdoor/traveling holidays in the spring and summer, and more home lot based holidays in the autumn and winter.

For some holidays, I add a diverse set of traditions and then choose only one or two to complete every sim year.

Sometimes my sims are just too busy with other things in life to participate at all. The No more "awful holiday" sad moodlet mod (linked below) is super useful because it completely takes the pressure off of completing holiday traditions!

It's very refreshing to use custom icons for the holidays, it matters more than you'd think! I use the More selectable icons mod (linked below) for this feature.

I've taken ideas and inspiration for some of my holidays from countless lists made by other simmers over the years.

Holiday mods

Traditions

Please note that some of these mods feature some of the same traditions - pick and choose so you don't get duplicates! Every custom tradition I use in my game is from these mods.

Icemunmun's traditions

LittleMsSam's traditions

Kiara's traditions

Renegadesims's traditions

Lychee's traditions

Pet traditions

Toddler traditions

Kids traditions

Occult traditions

Crafting traditions

Relaxation traditions

Eco-friendly traditions

Food traditions

Baking traditions

Writing traditions

A Night Out traditions

Cottage Living traditions

More Cottage Living traditions

Island Living traditions

Snowy Escape traditions

More Snowy Escape traditions

Paranormal traditions

University traditions

Realm of Magic, Paranormal & Vampires traditions

Other

More selectable icons

No more "awful holiday" sad moodlet

Holiday traditions in my game

The number next to each tradition shows which mod it's from. If there is no number, it's an EA tradition.

Spring

🌅 New Year's Day (day off) A chill day for spending time with your family after New Year's celebrations.

Family dinner ³

Cleaning

Cook pancakes ³

Play cards ³

Tell stories

🌟 Resolution Day It's time to make those New Year's resolutions reality! At least on this one day of the year...

Fasting

Exercise

Donate ³

Volunteer ³

Find penpal ¹⁵

🔫 Play Day Play is the work of the child. Child sims should invite their friends over for some play time!

Activity table ⁸

Make an experience ⁸

Monkey bars ⁸

Play pirate ⁸

Space explorer ⁸

🌄 Explorer's Day (day off) Once per season, sims have a day off for exploring the world! Maybe this year you could go on a mini vacation to Granite Falls to experience it in every season? Whatever you decide to do, this is a day for adventure!

Go hiking ³

Go for a walk ⁶

Go on a vacation or travel

Go sailing ³

Go camping ³

🌍 Earth Day You take care of nature and nature takes care of you.

Apply eco upgrades ¹²

Give gift to wild animal ¹⁷

Island clean up ¹²

Socialize with wild birds ¹⁷

Go hiking ³

🥪 Picnic Day Pack some tasty snacks and go on a picnic with your friends.

Go picnic ¹⁸

Invite guests

Play horseshoes ³

Collect bugs ³

Fire

💝 Love Day (day off) Take your significant other on a date and show them how much you love them! Or stay in and watch a romantic movie... with a special someone or alone, either way is fine!

Romantic spirit

Go on a date

Out for coffee ¹⁶

Send love letter ¹⁵

Watch romantic TV

🌮 Dining Day Today's all about eating as many different meals as you can. Taste something new or stick to old favorites!

Eat cultural dishes ³

Eat grilled cheese ³

Eat pizza ³

Hot pot ¹³

Order food ¹³

🧨 Gnome Day It's gnomes. Just gnomes. We can survive this. It's only once a year. We just have to keep them happy. It should be easy, right?

Holiday gnomes

🧽 Spring Cleaning Spring gives you a boost of energy. It's time to clean the house and fix anything that needs fixing!

Cleaning

Do laundry ³

Upgrade animal shelter ¹⁷

Upgrade chicken coop ¹⁷

Water crops ¹⁷

🪩 Party Night No self-respecting sim stays home on this wild night! It's time to partaaaaaay!

Out for coffee ¹⁶

Drinks at the bar ¹⁶

Go bowling ³

Bubble blower ³

Party spirit

🛠️ DIY Day It can't be that hard, the tutorial made it look pretty easy... Famous last words.

Build-a-bot ¹⁰

Crafting ¹⁰

Fabrication ¹⁰

Juice fizzing ¹⁰

Woodwork ¹⁰

🐇 Bunny Day (day off) Children's favorite holiday that's all about bunnies!

Egg hunt

Socialize with rabbit ¹⁷

Baking

Flower Bunny

Give gift to wild animal ¹⁷

🌺 Festival of Flowers A celebration of the spring turning to summer.

Flower arranging ¹⁰

Give flowers

Visit flower stall ¹⁷

Sunbathe ³

Gardening

Summer

☀️ Start of Summer It's finally summer and you can do all those fun things you dreamed of in the dark of winter!

Streaking

Go fishing ³

Go swimming ³

Kiddie pool ⁷

Play basketball ²

🐶 Pet Day Show your pet how much you love them on this special day!

Feeling the love ⁶

Pamper pets ⁶

Play with dog ⁶

Play with laser pointer ⁶

Teach tricks ⁶

Go hiking ³

Go for a walk ⁶

Go on a vacation or travel

Go sailing ³

Go camping ³

🧸 Children's Day Spend time with your children today. Take them to the park or the beach, or play with them at home.

Voidcritters ¹

Build sand sculpture ³

Games

Puppet show ³

Space explorer ⁸

🐄 Farm Day Visit a farm in Henford-on-Bagley and get to know the cows, chickens and llamas!

Harvest animal produce ¹⁷

Harvest crops ¹⁷

Take care of farm animals ¹⁸

Make animal treats ¹⁷

Socialize with villagers ¹⁷

🌞 Summer Vacation (3 days off) Enjoy summer to the max with 3 days of vacation!

Go on a vacation or travel

Go swimming ³

Invite guests

Sunbathe ³

Water fun

🍼 Toddler Day Take your toddler to the park or arrange a toddler play date.

Ball pit ⁷

Kiddie pool ⁷

Slide ⁷

Tiny treehouse ⁷

Jungle gym ⁷

🎵 Music Day Enjoy music in all its forms. Sing, play, listen.

Dancing ²

Music ³

Party spirit

Watch live performance ³

🌻 Garden Day Does anything make one happier than a thriving garden? Shower your plants with love (and water) today, make a new garden plan, or sow new seeds.

Sow seeds ¹⁷

Fertilize crops ¹⁷

Gardening

Collect bugs ³

Plant oversized crop ¹⁸

👩‍👩‍👦 Family Day Sometimes life feels so busy that you barely see even your own family. Make sure to spend some quality time with your loved ones today.

Baking

Family dinner ³

Games

Puppet show ³

Water fun

🏝️ Beach Day (day off) Celebrate summer in Sulani!

Build sand sculpture ³

Interact with dolphin ¹⁹

Go snorkeling ¹⁹

Go sailing ³

Collect seashells ⁵

🍃 End of Summer One last chance to enjoy a warm summer evening... Have a barbeque with your family and friends!

Bar-B-que

Sunbathe ³

Hot tub ³

Eat ice cream ³

Juice keg ²³

Autumn

🔥 Bonfire Night Dark autumn evenings are perfect for a little gathering around a bonfire. Look at the stars, roast some marshmallows, and wrap yourself in a blanket when it starts to get cold.

Fire

Stargaze ³

Fireworks

Tell stories

Fire dance ⁵

🧛 Occult Night They're creepy and they're kooky... mysterious and spooky... They're the occults and this is their night!

Alien powers ⁹

Mermaid powers ⁹

Use vampire powers ⁹

Cast spells ⁹

Use cauldron ⁹

🎲 Game Night Play some games with your family or friends to bring a bit of fun into this dark season.

Games

Go bowling ³

Play cards ³

Play darts ²

Play foosball ²

Go hiking ³

Go for a walk ⁶

Go on a vacation or travel

Go sailing ³

Go camping ³

❓ Life Change Day Do something today that has the potential to change the rest of your life!

Meet or adopt ⁶

Go on a date

Write a book ¹⁵

Go on a vacation or travel

Run errands for villagers ¹⁷

💡 Skill Day Learn something new today! Either work on skills you already know, or try doing something outside of your comfort zone.

Art & music spirit

Woodwork ¹⁰

Juice fizzing ¹⁰

Candle making ¹⁰

Craft wool items ¹⁷

🛋️ Couch Potato Day After the toil of yesterday, take it easy in good conscience today. It's not a day off, but you could always call in sick... Cough, cough.

Watch a movie ³

Sports TV

Sauna ¹¹

Read a book ³

Relaxing soak ¹¹

🍂 Autumn Day Enjoy the crisp air, the sunshine on the colorful leaves, and cosy autumn activities!

Fall fun ⁴

Fire

Canning ¹⁸

Drink tea ³

Candle making ¹⁰

🧓🏽 Parent's Day If you're in good terms with your parent(s), today's the perfect day to remind them how much you love and appreciate them.

Family dinner ³

Gift a parent ³

Hug parent ³

Remembrance

Tell stories

⚽ Sports Day Whether you like pumping iron or shooting hoops, do some exercise today.

Exercise

Go rock wall climbing ¹

Play basketball ²

Play soccer ³

💋 Date Night Whether it's your significant other or someone you don't even know yet, ask them on a date tonight!

Go on a date

Woohoo ³

Romantic spirit

🕯️ Other Side Day The veil is thinning... If you have business with someone in the afterlife, today's the day to get in touch.

Summon Bonehilda ⁹

Summon a ghost ²²

Conduct a seance ⁹

Commune with the departed ²²

Remembrance

🌽 Harvestfest (day off) Give thanks for everything the land has given you this year. Treat your garden, treat your animals, treat yourself.

Invite guests

Grand meal

Thankful spirit

Make animal treats ¹⁷

Harvest crops ¹⁷

🎃 Spooky Day (day off) It's time to get spooky!

Carve pumpkin ³

Spooky spirit

Trick or treat

Wear costumes

Use cauldron ⁹

Winter

🥧 Baking Day Get your baking supplies out, because today's all about the magic of flour and sugar! Have pancakes and coffee for breakfast, and bake all your favorite pastries.

Baking

Cook pancakes ³

Drink coffee ³

Decorate cookies ¹⁴

Make cupcakes ¹⁴

Go hiking ³

Go for a walk ⁶

Go on a vacation or travel

Go sailing ³

Go camping ³

📚 Written Word Day Read your favorite book in your favorite armchair, or go the library to find something new to read. Write a letter to someone, or finally start writing that book you always dreamt of.

Find penpal ¹⁵

My private journal ¹⁵

Writing skill ¹⁵

Read a book ³

Send love letter ¹⁵

💥 Chaos Day It seems like everyone's lost their social filter today! It's chaos all around! I hate all my friends! OOPS, did I say that out loud...

Air grievances

Fighting

Mischief spirit

Streaking

Magic duel ⁹

🎁 Do Good Day Today is all about being good to others. Make the world a better place by helping those around you.

Donate ³

Make pet food ⁶

Run errands for villagers ¹⁷

Volunteer ³

Vote for policies ¹²

🤝 BFF Day Invite your best friend over for a nice cup of tea or coffee. Share secrets, cry and laugh, have some fun.

Invite guests

Drink coffee ³

Drink tea ³

Play cards ³

Out for coffee ¹⁶

🧘 Mindfulness Day Take care of your mind and body.

Meditate ¹¹

Sauna ¹¹

Massage ³

My private journal ¹⁵

Do yoga ¹¹

🏔️ Snow Day (day off) Celebrate winter in Mt. Komorebi!

Go rock climbing ²⁰

Go skiing ²⁰

Go sledding ²⁰

Go snowboarding ²⁰

Hot springs ¹¹

🏡 Homebody Day (day off) Have you ever dreamed of just staying at home when it's dark and cold outside? Well, today you can!

Canning ¹⁸

Knitting ¹⁰

Cross-stitching ¹⁸

Practice herbalism ¹

Make pet food ⁶

🎄 Winterfest Eve Put up decorations for this wintery holiday, cook a delicious dinner, and then enjoy the evening as you wait for Father Winter's visit.

Attend holiday ceremony

Decorate

Festive spirit

Father Winter

Grand meal

☃️ Winterfest Day (day off) It's the most peaceful day of the year. Spend it with your loved ones.

Invite guests

Family dinner ³

Baking

Go skating ³

Open presents

🎨 Creativity Day Get your easel down from the attic, find your old camera in the garage, or pick up the knitting needles that have been collecting dust on the shelf. Let's do some arts and crafts!

Art & music spirit

Activity table ⁸

Cross-stitching ¹⁸

Writing skill ¹⁵

Knitting ¹⁰

❄️ Yamachan Day Travel to Mt. Komorebi to meet Yamachan!

Yamachan ²¹

Make a Tanabata wish ²¹

Hot pot ¹³

Order from Mt. Komorebi festival food stalls ²¹

Go hiking ³

🥂 New Year's Eve It's time to celebrate the year gone by, and welcome the new one that's right around the corner.

Countdown to midnight

Drinking

Eat pizza ³

Fireworks

Make resolutions

More holiday ideas

If you want to create your own holidays, but struggle with coming up with ideas, here are some things I always consider when I create holidays.

Can you match a world with a season? Summer holidays in Sulani, winter holidays in Mt. Komorebi, etc.

Alternatively, have a summer holiday in Sulani when it's winter elsewhere, a winter holiday in Mt. Komorebi when it's summer elsewhere, etc.

What if you took the default holidays and placed them in a different season? Celebrate Winterfest on the beach in the summer!

Can you match a world with a theme? Nature holidays in Granite Falls, city holidays in San Myshuno, etc.

Think of a simple theme for your holiday (games, sports, food, animals, books, etc.) and choose traditions based on that.

Create a holiday that requires your sim to travel from world to world to complete all the traditions.

Have a 3 day holiday for a vacation trip, with different traditions to complete each day.

Create holidays for specific life stages. What would a teen or an elder sim do for their holiday?

Create a holiday for each occult type. How would a Spellcaster spend their holiday?

Can you think of a way to combine holidays and clubs?

Put two really different holidays right next to each other so you have lots of variety in gameplay.

If you're playing a legacy, create a holiday for each heir sim based on their personality, and have their offspring celebrate these holidays to honor them.

Research real life holidays that are celebrated around the world to find new ideas.

Can't find the traditions that you need in your game? Follow this tutorial by LittleMsSam to create your own traditions!

#ts4 #the sims 4

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fatehbaz · 3 days

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In just eight blocks of sidewalk in quiet neighborhood, walking through the not-quite-rain of a sunshower, today I encountered four missing shoe soles. Little pieces of plastic and rubber, detached from pedestrians' shoes, now lonely on the concrete, with the weeds.

No such thing, really, as a "weed", though. "Weed" is not a botanical term. Instead, describes perceived pests, at the discretion of the observer. At the discretion of the authority. Designated as weed by the one with power over that land. The agronomist, the rancher, the plantation manager. The weed wastes space that could otherwise be given to a monoculture cash crop, an "economically significant" plant. The weed interferes with the productivity of the plot of land. The weed interrupts the extraction. The weed diminishes the value. The weed doesn't belong in this place.

People are made to be weeds, too.

Some cities will designate you as a weed, and then they'll take action to pull you out. They'll uproot you. But it's not always explicit, like "we're outlawing loitering" or "we're outlawing taking a nap in the park" or "we're defunding the library". Sometimes it's quite clever, it's written into the physical landscape. Self-congratulatory "progressive" cities learn to co-opt language, to obscure the violence, to use and abuse space.

Thinking about things you might encounter, you might perceive, after you've been destitute, broken, lived at a homeless shelter, for years. Little signs of other peoples' misery. Indicators of desperation that some might overlook. And the way that environment shapes, and is shaped by, these miseries.

A friend asks "why is there always an unusual amount of scuffed detached missing shoe soles on this particular stretch of sidewalk? There are hardly any homes around here, it's all asphalt and empty lots, so where are all these be-shoed people coming from?" Because even though this is a wide expanse without either home residences or any kind of commercial or recreation space someone would want to visit, these blocks are the straight-line direct path between a low-income apartment complex and the cluster of corporate big box stores, and there's no bus line that runs between the two areas. "But don't the vast majority of customers of shopping malls and box stores drive vehicles, hence the obscenely massive parking lots?" Sure, customers drive, but guess who actually has to work at those places? An underclass of people living at that apartment complex with harsh restrictions and cheap amenities, who can't afford car insurance or who might be too physically disabled to bike. And so that apartment complex is a de facto "company town", the residents are essentially in confinement. It is written into that landscape. It can be read. "Why is there always debris, wrappers, coins, etc. in this particular quiet couple of blocks of the boulevard?" Because these blocks are between a thrift store and a same-day drop-in clinic, so many impoverished people will routinely be walking between these two locations. They attend their appointment, and then have forty-five minutes to kill before the bus comes back around, so why not check out the thrift store? The city and county collaborated and placed all the low-income assistance offices on the far side of town, which conveniently forces the poor and disabled to both stay away from the luxurious downtown district and also to waste their time making a four-hour commute, catching various connecting buses or else riding the bikepath, across the city just to attend a ten-minute-long appointment.

Then this spatial layout, this city's physical environment, will shape the physical body. This violence writes itself into the flesh. The way the denim is chafed and discolored on the left shoulder of someone's jacket from carrying a small backpack around by foot, day after day after day. The way someone's heart rate increases when they see a white and black vehicle in the periphery of their vision, subconsciously recollecting institutionalization and institutional abuse, or fearing what a ticket fee would mean for their budget (they might not be able to afford rent). The way someone develops a painful limp, maybe occasionally depends on a cane, because they had to walk great distances every day to get to work and their shoe sole fell off on the sidewalk, but they can't replace the shoes because their employer is underpaying them, and they're forced to stand all day at work anyway, and they already had some modest nerve damage in their foot because they've been rationing their insulin and can't afford their prescriptions, and federal medical insurance keeps denying them because their physical letters in the mail always show up too late or not at all, and groceries are too expensive so it's hard to get good nutrition to heal, but the diabetic nerve damage has by now damaged their digestive tract too so they have a strictly limited bland diet and can't enjoy the simple pleasure of a home-cooked meal (if they can even afford a home, at this point), and all those "little" miseries add up, and now they're hungry, and in pain, because they were forced to walk kinda funny for a long time over all those decaying sidewalks with all those other weeds.

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bunkoos-mole-enthusiast · 3 months

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Weekly Jungkook Fanfic Recs

Some fine JK fics for your reading pleasure. 🔞 Please show your appreciation to all the wonderful authors :)

Cockblocked: In which a pair of best friends are hopelessly in love with one another but they’re both too dumb to realize, even when everyone around them are dropping hints every five minutes. https://mercurygguk.tumblr.com/post/631541640682733568/cockblocked-m-jjk

Cherry Bomb: You’re a cocktail waitress in a high end nightclub and you’ve been mutually crushing on one of the bartenders. Tonight, one of your customers oversteps boundaries and when Jungkook gets involved, you’re ready to toss your ‘no dating co-workers’ policy out the window. https://milfgyuu.tumblr.com/post/644786158437629952/cherry-bomb-m-pairing-jeon-jungkook-x

How To Make Him Cum 101: You’ll love each other in sickness and health, hungover or hangry, sexless or… well, it’s becoming a little harder for the pants to stay on despite the calls of ‘let’s take this slow’ on the first date. https://mimithings97.tumblr.com/post/189072265733/how-to-make-him-cum-101-m

Wine & Cheese Nights: Kicking back and relaxing to the sweet sweet burn of red wine and the even harsher sting of soft touches from your boyfriend, spells for cheesy conversation and great sex. https://mimithings97.tumblr.com/post/189081951388/wine-and-cheese-nights-m

Thirteen Rounds: JK's boxing coach tells him he can't come for four weeks before his title fight. Ah, four weeks isn't that long, right? ... Right? https://www.tumblr.com/moni-logues/707976218275889152/ thirteen-rounds?source=share

Across A Crowded Room: Dissatisfied and uncomfortable at a party where you don’t belong, in a country where you feel like you don’t belong, you see a man looking at you from across the room. Maybe he’s what you’ve been missing. https://moni-logues.tumblr.com/post/729185822501371904/across-a-crowded-room Up All Night: You’ve moved into a nice, new apartment but there’s just one problem: your noisy neighbour with the voice of an angel who insists on doing karaoke in the small hours. You decide it’s about time to tell him off and get a whole lot more than you bargained for. https://moni-logues.tumblr.com/post/708080075543805952/up-all-night Sweet Dreams: You’ve been working (and flirting) with Jungkook for months now, waiting for him to make a move. When he does, it’s not the move either of you expected but it opens the door for you both to get exactly what you want. https://moni-logues.tumblr.com/post/707272336755277824/sweet-dreams

Admiring From Afar: You owed a friend a favor, a favor which entailed a blind date. But the catch, it was only blind on your side. https://www.tumblr.com/jeonsalibi

The Curious Lifespan Of Migrating Monarchs: Streamer JK x oc. Strangers to lovers au. https://www.wattpad.com/1418357364-the-curious-lifespan-of-migrating-monarchs-seven

#bts jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic recs #jungkook imagines #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #bts jungkook fanfic #bts fic recs #bts smut #bts imagines

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lurochar · 8 days

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His Baker

Human!Alastor x Baker!Reader headcanons

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Alastor had heard about you through his co-workers at the radio station. They had even brought a box of baked goods to share among each other.

He's not a fan of sweets, but even he admits your beignets are quite tasty.

You became an overnight sensation, despite only having worked in your father’s bakery for a few months.

Your kind demeanor and pretty looks plus your fantastic baking skills have earned you many suitors.

You’re flattered, sure, but not looking for a partner as you are content with your life for the time being.

Then Alastor Hartfelt shows up.

He's an interesting fellow, you have to admit, and you do listen to his radio shows when you can, but you're not starstruck as so many are when they find out who he is.

That catches his attention.

He mentions he doesn't care for sweets and you go out of your way to make other treats such as gingerbreads, coffee cakes, or lemons bars.

Out of your way, just for him

He insists on driving or walking you home as you usually get off work a few hours before his own shift starts at the radio station.

It becomes yours and his routine and people are beginning to talk since you and Alastor are seen together so much in public.

He cares not for rumours (and even perhaps enjoys them a little. You, the sweet little baker, his secret wife?) and tells you to ignore them as well.

Customers who get too rowdy or handsy with you tend to go missing, only to be found horribly mutilated later on and they are thought to be victims of the Bayou Butcher.

Just some poor souls in the wrong place at the wrong time. It had nothing to do with you, much to your relief (though you were still saddened. Those former customers didn't deserve that.)

You're thankful for Alastor's presence when he takes you home. Those murders gave you a reminder there's a killer on the loose.

Alastor would offer for you to stay at his house, but ultimately doesn't go through with it since it may be too forward of him.

You may be safe from the Bayou Butcher, but there are many degenerate men out there and who knows what could happen to you if he's not looking out for your well-being?

He stalks you in his free time, purely for your own safety of course.

He goes to your father not long after, using the unease in the air to manipulate the situation in his favour.

Your father has given him his blessing and you find yourself being courted by Alastor Hartfelt, much to your surprise.

It's not that you didn't like him, he was the perfect gentleman! You just thought you would have more time for yourself.

Alastor doesn't force you to quit (perhaps work less, however? He can support you fully and completely). His home is big and you can bake to your heart's content there.

He has totally fantasized about gruesome things. Are there any baking ingredients you can substitute with human parts?

What would the expression on your face be when you do eat that meat for the first time, even unknowingly?

Alastor feels a thrill at the thought and heat warming his body that's quite… unfamiliar to him.

As long as Alastor doesn't take away your autonomy, you're cozy enough in this relationship with him to continue on with it.

You teach him how to bake and he teaches you his cooking style. He's no pro, but he's got a talent for it.

It may take a long, long while before he ever tries to sneak human meat in your meals, even if the thought gets his blood going. You do know flavours, after all.

You and Alastor are married after a year and you are happy with life – after all, you got a handsome gentleman of a husband, a job you love, no financial issues, and a lovely home.

What could possibly go wrong?

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #human alastor x reader

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navybrat817 · 2 years

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Sugar and Spice

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader Summary: You make a sweet impression on one of the new tattoo artists in the neighborhood. Word Count: Over 2.3k Warnings: Flirting, fluff, innuendos, brief moment of insecurity (reader's mom kind of sucks, sorry!), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Future couple, slight angst, and feels. A/N: Because I "need" another tattoo AU, let me introduce you to Hottie and Sugar. ❤️ Thank you to @rookthorne , @sweeterthanthis, @dreamlessinparis, @11thstreetvigilante for listening to me ramble about this man and some future upcoming shennanigans. Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thank you!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard by yours truly, divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics, and Bucky edit by the wonderful Nix. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The first time Bucky Barnes walked into your bakery, your best friend and co-owner, Tess, assumed he was lost. Maybe because he didn't appear to be your average customer. A confident aura surrounded him, like he took what he wanted without question. You hadn't encountered a man who looked like sin incarnate before.

It took you a moment to greet him with how dry your mouth had gone.

The stranger didn't smile as he made it to the counter in a few strides. It surprised you that he got through the door with his massive frame. The dark t-shirt and jeans looked painted on and the skin you could see was littered with tattoos. A handsome package wrapped up with chestnut brown hair past his ears, short beard, and steel blue eyes.

Lust at first sight was an understatement.

It was as if he walked out of your wet dreams and into your life.

Sin. Incarnate.

You smiled from ear to ear when you saw him up close, even though he still didn't smile back. You didn't take it personally. Tess once said you were too sweet for your own good, but you replied you never knew what was going on with your customers. Maybe a bit of kindness would brighten their day.

You weren't sure if it was friendliness that he needed, but he wouldn't stop staring at you.

You admitted to yourself later that his gaze made your heart pound and it wasn't out of intimidation.

"Hi. What can I get for you?" you asked.

He blinked and looked toward the display case, giving you a chance to exhale.

When did you start holding your breath?

"Something sweet," he said, his voice huskier than you expected as he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Those were the exact words my punk friend said."

"That's extremely helpful in a bakery," you deadpanned.

His eyebrows shot up as you dropped the serious expression and started laughing. It surprised you when he laughed with you. Not only did you consider his reaction a personal victory, but it made him look even more handsome.

How was that possible?

"Exactly what I said."

"Well, not sure if he's allergic to anything or how many of you are eating, but we can do an assortment of cookies if you'd like," you suggested, walking to the end of the case to show him the different flavors.

"That sounds good. A dozen should work," he said, narrowing his eyes as he placed his large hands on the glass and looked it over again. Was it rude to stare at him? "And since the punk didn't tell me what he wanted, surprise me."

"I'll pick the best flavors," you smiled as you grabbed a box and tongs.

"What's your favorite?" he asked curiously, folding his hands and resting his chin on top of them as you selected the cookies.

Your cheeks flamed when you realized he was watching you. You hoped you didn't drop anything. "Can't go wrong with chocolate chip. It's a classic. If I had to pick a favorite treat overall, I'd pick the caramel chocolate brownie. Simple, but full of flavor."

"I'll take one of those, too, please."

"Sure. You'll have to let me know what you think," you said, placing the best brownie from the batch in a smaller box.

"So, you're saying you want me to come back," he said with a half smile as he pushed himself off the display to follow you back to the register. "Is that it?"

Is he flirting with me? No, he couldn't be.

Your mom chastised you for ending things with your recent boyfriend. According to her, you should've appreciated that a charming, good-looking man wanted you all of all people. It hurt to hear that, but he turned out to be a jerk and you refused to settle for less than what you deserved.

You also wouldn't let negative thoughts cloud your safe space.

"I wouldn't mind," you giggled before you cleared your throat. Even if by some miracle he was hitting on you, you weren't supposed to flirt while you worked. "We like having repeat customers," you added.

"I'm sure you have plenty. It's a cute shop."

You looked for a hint of sarcasm on his face and found none. "Thanks," you said, holding your head a bit higher. The shop was your baby and you took pride in it, always doing your best to make it as bright and welcoming as you could. "And I really would like to know what you think. Always looking to improve if we can."

"It's a good thing I'm just across the street," he said as he got his wallet out. "I can sample the entire menu."

You began to ring him up when you paused. "You don't happen to work in the new tattoo shop, do you?"

Some of the other business owners on the block weren't too happy about a tattoo parlor opening up, afraid that it would attract a rougher crowd. You knew better than to judge a book by its cover. You also felt bad that you hadn't had a chance to go over to introduce yourself.

"Co-owner. What gave it away?" he asked, reminiscent of your deadpan delivery moments ago.

"Oh, just this feeling," you teased, wondering how many tattoos he had hidden under his clothes. You cut that thought off and stopped him when he took some cash out to pay. "On the house as a small welcome to the neighborhood."

He moved his hand over to the tip jar and dropped the money in. "Thanks," he gave you a half smile again as he glanced at the nametag on your bright apron and said your name.

It sounded like honey on his tongue.

"I'm Bucky, by the way. Nice to meet you," he said, taking the boxes.

"Nice to meet you, too," you smiled back, a wave of heat rolling down your chest at the thought of him coming back to see you. "Enjoy the treats."

"I'm sure they'll be as sweet as you, Sugar," he smirked.

You stood there, stunned, as he walked out of the shop. Thankfully it was a slow time of day and you had a moment to fan yourself once you remembered to breathe. You had half a mind to get a tattoo as an excuse to see him again.

"Who the hell was that?" Tess asked from behind you.

You jumped and clutched your chest, forgetting that she was in the shop. "My new crush," you answered without thinking.

"Obviously. I thought he was lost until he ordered something," she snickered as she nudged your shoulder. "You were giggling."

"Yeah. Well, I doubt he'll be back," you mumbled, going to the case to wipe it down.

"Oh, he'll be back. I saw how he looked at you," she said, moving her eyebrows up and down. "You're the sugar he wants to taste."

"Did you see how hot he is? He has plenty of 'sugar' out there and I'm," you waved your hand as you tried to think of a good comparison. "I don't know. I'm Splenda."

"Okay. First, that sounds like your mother talking, which is not allowed in here. Second, you're not Splenda. You're the whole bakery. No putting yourself down in our sanctuary," Tess said sternly. She liked to give you a hard time as your best friend, but she was serious when it came to your love life and self-esteem. "For real. You're a catch."

"Maybe he'll fall in love after he eats the brownie I gave him," you joked.

"That's the spirit," Tess said, graciously not calling you out on your deflection. "He'll be back."

You didn't want to get your hopes up over a stranger, but you did want to see him again.

You just didn't expect him to visit your shop again the very next day.

"So," he said when he went to the counter and set his hands on it, blocking out everything behind him. "About that brownie."

"Yeah?" you asked breathlessly, praying you looked halfway decent. "What did you think?"

"Best fucking brownie I've ever had," he grinned and rubbed his stomach. The praise rendered you speechless. "What else is good here?"

Me. I'm good.

You wished you said what was on your mind, but you gave him one of the leftover sample cakes instead.

It went on like that for over a week. Bucky would stop in and select a new dessert. On the slower days, he tried the treat at the counter and chatted with you. Tess messaged you on your day off to tell you how disappointed he looked when you weren't there. He bought two items when you saw him the next day.

The brownie was still his favorite.

So you decided to surprise him when he showed up at his usual time. The blue Henley made his eyes stand out more and the smile he gave you sent heat through your core. Your hand managed not to shake as you held up a plate for him. You couldn't help but want to impress him.

"Is that my brownie?" he asked when he went to greet you.

"With a twist. Caramel chocolate brownie, but I added chocolate fudge frosting," you replied, handing it to him. His fingers touched yours and you wished at that moment that the counter didn't separate the two of you. "I hope you like it."

"I'm sure I will," he said, keeping his eyes on you as he brought the brownie to his mouth and took a bite. They slipped shut as he let out a deep moan. His head fell back briefly, too.

Your fingers twisted in your apron as you pressed your thighs together. Did he do that on purpose or was it that good? You didn't think your treats were worthy of pornographic sounds.

"Fucking delicious," he promised as he opened his eyes and took another bite. "It'll hurt my feelings if you don't add this to the menu."

"Thank you. I'm glad you like it," you said, wondering if the words sounded as breathless as you felt.

"I haven't tried a single thing here I didn't like, Sugar."

"Why do you keep calling me 'Sugar'?"

"'Cause you seem sweet, like these treats you make for everyone," Bucky stated as a matter of fact. "I can stop if you don't like it."

"Please, don't stop," you said. You liked hearing it from him.

He smirked as he licked a bit of frosting off his thumb, your mouth salivating at the sight. "Not how I expected to hear those words from you."

Blood rushed to your cheeks as your brain tried to process what he said. You could play it cool. Or play along. "Well, Hottie, if you're lucky, you might hear them in a different way."

Bucky's mouth shifted from a smirk to a full blown grin. "Hottie?"

You tried to summon the ground to swallow you up, but it didn't work.

"Well. Yeah. I mean, you call me Sugar, which makes you Spice. Spices can be hot and you're a hottie," you said with as much dignity as possible before you giggled. "Or I can just call you Bucky and we forget this entire conversation."

"I won't forget. My memory can be fuzzy at times, but I'll remember this conversation," he promised, tapping his temple. "And keep calling me that. I like it."

You leaned across the counter, trying to look as enticing as possible. At least, as much as you could in your work apron. He visited the shop multiple times now and he was definitely flirting with you now. You could make a move.

Don't be Splenda. Be the whole bakery.

"Bucky, would you want to-"

The door swung open before you could finish your question, your shoulders slumping in defeat. "There you are, Buck. Andy is actually smiling at someone. Hal's trying to get a picture. You gotta see this."

Bucky's nostrils flared as he closed his eyes. "Fucking punk."

He sounds as disappointed as I feel.

"Friend of yours?" you guessed.

"That's just Steve with his impeccable timing."

Bucky stepped aside so you could get a look at his friend. The man was just as large as your newfound crush, also covered in tattoos with long, blonde hair and a trimmed beard. And he was beaming at you.

"You must be Sugar. Buck mentioned you."

"Is that right?" you asked.

"Oh, yeah," Steve smiled. "Hasn't shut up about you."

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you gazed at the brunette. He didn't look ashamed or embarrassed as he stared back. You must have made some sort of good impression on him if he spoke to a friend about you.

"Are you working tomorrow?" he asked, ignoring his friend for the time being as he handed you his empty plate.

"Yeah. I'm opening the shop," you answered.

"If I'm not arrested for murdering my best friend, I'll come back and we can finish our conversation," he said as Steve frowned. You couldn't stop yourself from smiling. "If that's okay with you."

Who in their right mind would say "no"?

"More than okay. I'll see you tomorrow," you said, giving Steve a wave as Bucky stomped toward him. "Nice meeting you, Steve."

"You, too. Keep making those cookies! They're so good!" he chuckled as his friend chased him out of the shop.

"Oh, who the hell was that?!" Tess shouted from the back of the office.

"A friend with bad timing," you called back with a shake of your head.

"You were finally going to ask him out, weren't you?" she asked, poking her head out. "About time. Sick of hiding in the office so I don't have to watch you two flirt."

You scoffed when you caught her smiling. "You love being in the office. And tomorrow is a new day. I'll ask him."

"You better wear something pretty for your hottie."

She's never going to let me live that nickname down.

You weren't sure what you were going to wear tomorrow, but you knew you couldn't wait to open the shop and see Bucky again.

Hope you liked this sweet introduction and can't wait to share more of this Bucky and the other boys. More from Hottie and Sugar with And Everything Nice. Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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ghouljams · 7 months

Note

You’ve made allusions to an android AU, may I venture a hc?

König (my beloved) is the most likely out of all of the guys to just. Literally not have a face. This boy was built exclusively for heavy combat - he’s probably got five cameras for eyes on a composite ceramic face. There is no synthskin. Briareos from APPLESEED vibes.

OK Android au is a Ghost au because that's my husband. I love the idea of König as a heavy duty mech. Let's run through what my thoughts on the au are and then never speak of it again

So Ghost as an android. Military grade, top of the line. I mean literally irreplaceable, no one knows how they made him, where he came from, or how he's able to think and do the things he does. It's almost unbelievable. You, the 141's mechanic, don't believe it. You've fixed up plenty of androids, you'd rerouted circuit boards and rewritten enough code to know that Ghost should not be doing the things he's doing. You think he's thinking. He shouldn't be thinking. Not the way he seems to be, at least.

Androids think, to a certain degree, but artificial intelligence is... well it's not exactly real. It's pattern recognition and computers running simulations. It's math. Complicated math, but still math. Ghost isn't doing math, he's making decisions. The 141 lets him out, free range, in the field and trusts him to think and act within the parameters- Fuck do they even set parameters for him?

He comes to see you the same way the men go to see the doctor. Reluctantly. Another thing he shouldn't be doing, that he's hiding from the rest of the unit, feeling. That's what first tipped you off that he was thinking, the way he lingered in your doorway when other androids would be marched in by their COs. Ghost stood in the door to your workshop and hesitated, like he didn't want to see you, or was hoping you wouldn't be in. When you'd made eye contact with his cameras, the red glow behind sculpted bone, he'd marched right in and sat down in front of your work bench.

"Need some maintenance," He's said, the transmitters for his voice box warm and rumbling behind the slight static. You'd never heard false vocal cords like that.

He's a wonder of mechanics. His back plate is dented, the synth-skin charred and bullet ridden, and when you take too long poking around trying to figure out how to get it off he reaches back and presses a button at the top of his spine. The black composite plates lining his spine -what a human would call a spine- release with a hiss and the back plates on either side pop up with a quiet click. You could spend hours looking at the motors running his muscles, like cogs in a clock. They spin silently, just on the edge of warm when you touch them, expanding his synthetic muscles almost like he's breathing. A cooling system you assume, or exhaust exchange. You grab a few tools from your bench and tug your safety goggles on to get started.

It's strange, you feel like a proper doctor working on him. Ghost sits like a rock for you, but he's sitting, he's active. You glance at his face like you'll catch him flinching away from the laser you drag against powder burns, or think he'll roll his shoulder to test the fit when you tighten one of the millions of tiny screws. You'll have to come up with something new to use on the tight coils of synthetic muscle he has. You've never seen anything like it, you'll need something custom if he comes in with anything bigger than a bullet wound. He's patient as you reshape his back plate, banging the dent out and soldering a patch over the hole.

"You'll need a new one of these," You tell him. He makes a noise almost like a hum, you chalk it up to motors whirring. Strange when they'd been so quiet before.

"Battle scars," He jokes, and you freeze, "That's what Soap calls them." He covers, but- He made a joke. He's covering, it's a good cover, but- He made a joke. Androids don't make jokes, they approximate jokes.

You're still thinking about it when he leaves. You're a good mechanic, a great one, but you can't explain Ghost away as subroutines and ai. You stare down at your diagnostic report, your repair report. You hesitate and mark "functioning optimally" before jotting down the repairs you made. It's probably nothing. No reason to snitch on the 141's prized android just because you're a little spooked.

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steddiealltheway · 9 months

Text

Part Three of The Danger of Romanticizing. Part One. Part Two. Ao3 Link.

Over the next few days, Steve asks Robin to tell Eddie he says hi, adding it to his morning routine. And every day without fail, he gets a responding hi back. Sometimes, he even gets a question about what the polo of the day is. Robin starts shoving Steve sticky notes to write down whatever he wants to say which she hands off to Chrissy.

He finds himself looking forward to the notes whenever he gets home, fingers tracing over Eddie’s slightly sloppy handwriting before sticking them to his wall.

On Thursday, Steve comes home to find Chrissy sitting on the couch with Robin, fingers intertwined as they appear to do their separate class readings. “Hey,” Steve says, hoping that they’re not too deep into the studying zone.

Chrissy gives him a bright smile and says, “Hi, Steve.”

Steve can’t help but glance around, trying to find some trace of Eddie in the place. For some reason, he thinks that he would know if he was there.

“He’s out with his... friend,” Chrissy explains, giving Steve an apologetic smile.

Steve nods. “Right, the sort of boyfriend.”

“I wouldn’t call him that,” Chrissy says with a slight frown. She shakes her head and turns back to her work.

Robin stares at her girlfriend for a moment before asking, “How come you never talk about him?”

Chrissy glances at her and her expression immediately softens. Steve feels like he finally understood the phrase “heart eyes” when he first saw the way Chrissy and Robin look at each other.

“I haven’t met him yet. But Eddie doesn’t have the best track record with guys. I mean, he deserves the world, but he doesn’t understand why. I used to make him recite these affirmations to try to make him understand his worth, but he’s Eddie, you know? A lot of those deep emotions he deflects with jokes.” Chrissy sighs and holds up a packet of paper. “Sorry, I’m currently learning about coping mechanisms.”

“No apologizing, remember? You’re allowed to talk about the things you’re passionate about,” Robin gently reminds her.

Chrissy leans over and plants a soft kiss on her cheek. “Thank you,” she says softly.

Steve turns away as he watches Robin blush and duck her head. He resists the urge to make a comment that will ruin their moment and instead goes to the pantry and pulls out a box of pasta. He silently starts on dinner contemplating if he can pry about this mystery man in Eddie’s life through the sticky notes.

“Oh, Steve!” Chrissy says over her shoulder.

“Yes?”

“Eddie said that he’s sad to miss you and he hopes he can see you again soon.”

Steve smiles. “Tell him I hope I can see him soon.”

“Will do,” Chrissy replies with a bright smile.

And god, Steve really hopes he can.

-:-:-:-:-:-

The next morning is rough.

Steve sleeps through his alarm and in the process of rushing out the door he forgets to write Eddie a note and spills a cup of coffee on himself on the drive to work.

He walks in pressing napkins against his shirt, trying to soak up some of the liquid. Of course, this is the day he decides to wear a light pink polo.

“Nice look, Harrington,” Collin says loudly, causing everyone else to look up from their desk at him.

He already gets enough shit for being the boss’s son, so he’s sure that today will be worse than usual.

And it is.

It’s like everyone teams up on him to make jokes pretending to trip while holding coffee mugs in their hands. It gets old pretty fast, especially when his co-worker Aidan actually ends up pouring more coffee on him while he’s talking to a customer. And while he’s cleaning up again, Collin is able to swoop in and swindle his customer.

It’s all bullshit.

When the workday ends, he tries to grab his stuff and stalk off to his car quickly, but Collin manages to get in a quick, “Better luck next time, champ.”

Steve ignores him but he can’t help but feel like the final straw was broken for him.

He gets stuck in traffic and wants more than anything to just get home, shower, change, and put on a shitty movie. When he finally gets to his apartment, he manages to drop the keys while unlocking the door twice before pushing it open only to find Robin standing on the other side.

“How was work?” she asks overly bubbly.

“How do you think it was?” Steve asks gesturing to his shirt.

Robin cringes and teases, “Clumsy day?”

“Not now, Robin,” Steve sighs, trying to take his shoes off quickly. He finally gets them undone and finds that he’s wearing one navy and one black sock.

Robin points down to them and laughs.

“Seriously, Robin, I’m not in the mood,” he says and crosses his arms.

Robin grabs onto his arms with a bright smile and says, “But I have a surprise for you.”

Steve sighs and ducks his head, trying to make his way past her.

“Hold on!” Robin says, blocking his way. “God, you reek of coffee.”

For some reason, the comment really gets to Steve, and he snaps, “Can you just fucking give me some space?” He storms past her and rounds the corner to his room only to find that they’re not alone.

He looks up and takes in Chrissy and Eddie standing in the living room looking extremely uncomfortable.

“I...” Steve starts then turns around mumbling, “Fuck,” under his breath as he practically runs out the front door, grabbing his shoes on the way out. He jogs toward his car and pulls on the handle, realizing it’s locked. He digs into his pocket and mumbles, “No.” He checks his other pocket and comes up with nothing.

Of course, he left them on the hook by the front door.

He quickly puts on his shoes, wincing when he feels a rock in his right shoe. He sighs and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. He knows he shouldn’t run. He always runs.

He hears footsteps thudding on the sidewalk behind him. “Hey,” a voice softly says.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut a little harder before running his hands over his face and slowly turning around. “Hey,” he mumbles, making fleeting eye contact with Eddie before staring at the pavement.

“Going somewhere?”

Steve crosses his arms and leans back against the hood of his car. “I was, but I left my keys inside.”

Eddie digs into his pocket and pulls out a set of keys, dangling them in front of him. “I have mine. Come on,” he says, already stepping back on the sidewalk and walking away from Steve.

Steve pauses but follows him around the corner of the building where he’s parked. He wonders if he purposefully parked there in order to surprise him. God, it just makes him feel worse.

He climbs into the passenger seat and stares ahead.

“Where to?” Eddie asks.

Steve sighs, “Whatever store carries pints of coffee chocolate chip ice cream.”

Eddie starts his van and asks, “Your favorite?”

“Robin’s favorite.”

“Ah,” Eddie says as he backs out of the side parking lot. “I have an extra shirt in the back if you want to change.”

Steve almost passes it up, but he doesn’t think he can stand the smell of coffee any longer. He twists in his seat and glances at the back, finding a random shirt thrown on the seat along with a lot of random shit that Steve wants to ask about. Instead, he tugs his polo off and quickly shrugs on Eddie’s shirt.

In any other situation, he would’ve been ecstatic about the softness of the shirt and embarrassingly tried to smell the collar or something to commit the scent to memory. But the heaviness of how he treated Robin weighs too heavily on his mind.

They sit in silence for a few moments, and Steve grows increasingly sorrowful.

“Want to talk about it?” Eddie asks.

Steve glances at him, noticing the lack of judgment in his expression which puts him at ease. “I just had a really bad day at work, and I was an asshole and took it out on Robin.”

“Chrissy always tells me that we take out our stress on the ones we love the most.”

“There’s definitely a reason she’s a psychology major.”

Eddie snorts and shrugs, eyes not leaving the road as he talks. “She’s going to be an amazing therapist. But what I meant by that is that I’ve had my fair share of frustrating exchanges with Chrissy as well.”

Steve sighs and leans back in his seat. “Yeah, but usually I save the part where I reveal that I’m an asshole at least a few months after meeting someone.”

“Romanticizing yourself,” Eddie says with a small smile. He approaches a red light and turns to Steve to state, “You’re not an asshole. You’re just human.”

“A little too human,” Steve argues.

“The best people are.”

“Sounds like you’re romanticizing me,” Steve says, trying to brush off the sincerity of what Eddie said.

Eddie rolls his eyes and turns back to the now green light.

They sit in comfortable silence as they make their way to the parking lot of a grocery store.

With the words still weighing heavy on his mind, Steve finally says, “Thank you.”

Eddie pulls into a parking space and replies, “No need for all that.” He gets out of the car before Steve can argue with him.

As they make their way inside, Steve changes the subject, “Ever since you brought up how empty my room is, I can’t stop noticing it.”

Eddie winces. “Sorry, I have a tendency to chronically put my foot in my mouth.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I just suddenly want to do something about it.”

Eddie suddenly stops in the middle of the store, causing the person behind them to nearly hit him with their cart. Eddie turns and says, “Sorry,” before placing a gentle hand on Steve’s back and guiding him away from the frozen aisle they were walking toward.

“Where-”

Eddie puts his finger to his lips and says, “No questions.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow but he keeps his lips shut as Eddie guides him to some random place in the store. He lets the warmth of Eddie's fingertips through the thin layer of the shirt distract him for a few moments until he notices that they’ve stopped.

Steve glances around and asks, “Clocks?”

Eddie sighs and tugs him past the section to the picture frames. “Stay here and pick a few you like. I’ll be right back.”

Steve can’t even give him a confused look before he takes off. He turns back to the frames, scanning them before he grabs a white frame with a gold stripe that he thinks looks nice. For some reason he also finds a small silver circular frame that he thinks is kind of cute and funny, so he grabs it. He holds the two side by side and smiles. They look horrible together, but he likes them.

Eddie suddenly appears at his side, winded as if he just ran across the store. He holds up a small disposable camera and smiles proudly. “And this should be good for now. Time for ice cream.” He turns and heads toward the frozen aisle before stopping in place suddenly again.

Steve runs right into him and stumbles back. “Do you do this often?”

“Absolutely,” Eddie answers. He glances down at the frames and says, “I just realized I didn’t look at what you chose. The small one is funny.”

“Right?” Steve says, relieved that he understands.

Eddie looks him in the eye and his smile grows. “Good choices.”

Steve finds himself flushing a bit red after the direct affirmation from Eddie. Luckily, Eddie doesn’t notice as he leads the way to the ice cream.

It takes a few moments to find the ice cream, but Eddie suddenly excitedly says, “Yes!” and grabs a pint out of the freezer. Steve can’t help but think that he might be his good luck charm.

They check out quickly. Eddie asks Steve to grab him a candy bar, taking the moment of distraction to hand the cashier money, paying for everything. When Steve realizes, he tries to protest but Eddie shuts him down saying, “I’m the one who told you to get those things. It would be a dick move to make you pay for them too.”

“I could’ve at least covered the ice cream.”

“And risked it melting while we wasted time with a second checkout?” Eddie asks, acting flabbergasted at the idea.

Steve just laughs and at least takes the bags from him.

“My hero,” Eddie jokes, fluttering his eyelashes. As they get to the car he asks, “By the way, what candy bar did you get? I forgot to check.”

“A Three Musketeer. I hope that’s okay.”

Eddie smiles and hits the center console excitedly. “That was the inspiration behind naming Dart! You know? D'Artagnan.”

Steve shakes his head coming up with nothing. Eddie digs into the bags and grabs the candy, pointing it out to Steve.

“Oh. Dustin’s going to be so excited to hear that. Three Musketeers are his favorite.”

“You really love that kid,” Eddie comments with a smile as he starts the car.

“He can be an annoying little shit sometimes, but I love him like a brother.”

Eddie laughs. “I’m excited to meet him.”

“Me too,” Steve replies and suddenly remembers what Dustin told him. “Hey, I didn’t know you also illustrated the book. I don’t know how I skimmed over that, but that’s incredible.”

A light blush covers Eddie’s cheeks. “It’s alright. I used to design stuff for Hellfire in high school, but I’m absolutely shit at faces. That’s why you never see The Boy’s face.”

“I somehow never noticed that. But I think it’s a good choice. It lets the reader kind of imagine themself in the role, you know?”

Eddie pauses for a moment before asking, “Yeah? You can relate?”

Steve shrugs and leans back. “I can relate to the found family, and I mean...” Steve trails off and looks down at his hands. “Sometimes I feel like an outcast. And yeah, that sounds ridiculous since I was a pretty popular jock in high school. But I had this kind of reality check and suddenly I didn’t see the appeal of being ‘King Steve.’ I spent the last semester of my senior year sitting next to my ex and her new boyfriend during lunch. It was a miracle that I put in my resume at this ice cream shop because that’s how I met Robin. But even at work now, I just don’t fit in.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe we’re the same,” Eddie cheesily quotes the title of his book. Before Steve can ask what he means, Eddie presses on. “I have one question.”

“Mhm?”

“Did they really call you King Steve?”

Steve groans, “Yes. God, I hate that nickname.”

Eddie laughs. “Alright, I promise not to call you that.”

“Thank you.”

“Your Highness.”

Steve sighs but he fails to hide the slight humor in his expression.

“Okay, I promise to never bring it up... After this car ride, my lord,” Eddie says with a wicked smile.

Steve buries his face in his hands for the rest of the ride home, trying not to laugh too hard at the ridiculous nicknames Eddie pulls out of his ass. But as they get closer to his apartment, his happiness dies down as he faces the reality of what he’s returning to.

Eddie quiets down during the last minute, sensing the shift in emotions from Steve. He parks outside and quietly asks, “Are you ready?”

“No,” Steve says, unbuckling his seatbelt and grabbing his bags before getting out of the car.

He slowly steps up to the front door but pauses to turn around to Eddie. “Thank you for all of this. Really.”

Eddie just puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “I had a good time. I hope your day has gotten a little better.”

“It has,” Steve admits with no hesitation. “As long as I can apologize to Robin after this and hope she forgives me.”

“Something tells me that she will.”

Steve glances up at Eddie, wondering if he can express how much that fills him with relief. He steps forward, intent on wrapping his arms around the man and holding him for as long as he’ll let him.

The door swings open before Steve’s arms can come up.

“Hey, I thought I heard the van doors shut,” Chrissy says with a small smile.

“How is she?” Steve asks immediately.

Chrissy puts a hand on his arm. “She’s alright. I think she’ll be happy to talk to you.” She squeezes him before turning to Eddie and asking, “You ready to go?”

Eddie’s eyes flicker to Steve before settling on Chrissy. He gives her a conflicted look, but Chrissy raises her eyebrows at him causing Eddie to sigh and turn to Steve saying, “Maybe I’ll see you soon? We’ll plan it this time.”

Steve feels his face suddenly get very warm with embarrassment. “That would be great.”

Eddie nods at him and turns away to make his way back to the van. Steve waves goodbye to the pair before going inside. He drops the bag with the frames and camera on their table in the small dining area before grabbing two spoons and the bag with the ice cream.

He purposefully makes his footsteps a little heavier as he makes his way to Robin’s room to prepare her for his presence. He lightly knocks on the door and waits.

“It’s open,” she says.

Steve slowly pushes the door open and finds Robin lying in her bed staring at the ceiling. “Hey.”

Robin turns and gives him a small smile. “Hey.”

“I brought the goods,” Steve jokes as he walks toward her bed.

Robin sits up and makes grabby hands at him, taking the pint and a spoon as soon as she can. Steve can’t help but think that’s a good sign, but he’s not going to pretend everything is normal. “I’m sorry I was an asshole to you. I shouldn’t have taken out my bad day on you.”

Robin glances at him with a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth. She takes a moment to eat before she sighs, “It wasn’t just you though. I shouldn’t have been so pushy and glossed over your bad day. And I definitely shouldn’t have surprised you like that.”

“Are you kidding? Any other day, I would’ve been ecstatic.”

“Just not today,” Robin says, staring down at the ice cream before taking another spoonful. She glances over at him and asks, “Want to talk about your day?”

Steve shakes his head. “Just Collin being an asshole and the other guys joining in.”

“Charles and Ryan?”

“Aidan this time.”

Robin sighs, “I wish I could go in there and give them a piece of my mind.”

“I think I deserved it today.”

Robin raises an eyebrow at him. “No matter how much of a dick you can be, I’m not leaving you, dingus. And you definitely don’t deserve that shit.”

Steve shrugs and takes a stab at the ice cream. “Eddie made things better.”

“Yeah?”

Steve nods and avoids eye contact as the coffee flavor melts in his mouth.

“Speak of Eddie, is he the reason you’re wearing a Metallica shirt?”

Steve glances down at the shirt and smiles. He had forgotten he was wearing it. “Yeah. He had an extra shirt in the back and let me change out of the coffee-stained one. I think I left that polo in his van though.” He shrugs and gets another spoonful of ice cream. “He’s really great.”

There’s a longer pause before Robin rests her hand on Steve’s and asks, “Steve, do you... like him?”

Steve’s eyes snap up to Robin quickly, swallowing a mouthful of cold ice cream in the process. His heart beats a little faster, and he hopes Robin can’t feel his pulse. “No, it’s not like that. Besides, I barely know him.”

“Yeah, but you’ve liked people with a lot less information about them.”

Steve sighs and puts his spoon down to lay his other hand on top of Robin’s and look her in the eye. “Even if I do like him, he has a sort of boyfriend. Plus, I’m not going to do anything reckless that will risk the happiness of your and Chrissy’s relationship, okay?”

Robin stares at him for a few seconds too long before she nods. “Okay. But... you can talk to me if those feelings ever change.”

“And they won’t,” Steve reassures her.

Robin looks conflicted before she gives him a small smile and goes back to the ice cream.

Steve is able to easily change the subject and things finally feel normal again once they’re both laughing so hard they have to wipe at the tears running down their faces.

But when Steve lays in bed that night, his thoughts drift to Eddie. He can’t fall for him. Really, he can’t. He can’t do that to Chrissy and Robin.

So, for once, he tries to turn off all the thoughts romanticizing the man. But he doesn’t know how to humanize the man when he’s been nothing but... perfect.

He’s so screwed.

Part Four

Hi Tag List <3:

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@monsterloverforhire @sherilitchi @anaibis @ashwagandalf @overhillunderhill @marklee-blackmore @messrs-weasley @tolgakolik @pearynice @fruitandbubbles @classof86baby @aellafreya @r1ver-6 @l0st-strawberry @munsonslure @moltenchocolatelavacake @sleepdeprivedflower @0milkman0 @ihavekidneys @bird-with-pencils @sharingisntkaren @novelnovella @zoeweee @socksfanpage @viridianphtalo @octopus-in-cripsis @lillemilly @genderless-spoon @pineappleskiesxx @meganwinchester @phoenixtheone @jaybren @patricks-fabulous-face @idoquitelikebread

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie fanfic #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #the danger in romanticizing fic

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piichuu · 17 days

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♡ ETERNAL SUNSHINE - THE FIRST MEETING

SYNOPSIS: they first met when he was the leader of a big gang in tokyo, and five years later it doesn’t seem like much has changed, except for the fact that this time, things turn into love.

WARNINGS: none really, just messy writing

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

SERIES MASTERLIST | CHAPTER TWO

the sun has set as you’re walking down the streets. work has been kicking your ass for the entire evening and school the same. there aren’t many people outside at the moment as it’s still a weekday and close to 11pm. but those you see seem to be on their way home, most likely from work as well.

there are music playing in your ears as you continue walking, currently ten minutes away from your home as you suddenly hear the sound of motorbikes coming from behind. the sound grows louder and you eventually turn your head to see a whole crew of people wearing biker helmets and driving past on their motorbikes.

it’s not uncommon for gangs to be on the streets of tokyo, especially during this late into the evening. this time it’s the tokyo manji gang who are roaming the streets, evident on the shirts their wearing as the name of the gang is written on the back of them. they’re more people than you thought which only makes it scarier even if they probably wouldn’t just jump an innocent citizen. but you never know, right?

you quicken your pace for the rest of your walk home, and when you finally reach your apartment, you step inside, locking the door behind you.

the apartment is dark before you switch the lights on and kick your shoes off. you drop your bag onto the floor before heading towards the kitchen. there are still a few dishes there that you didn’t have time to wash before it was time to leave this morning.

as it’s already pretty late, you only make yourself a sandwich before it’s time to head to bed. after such a long day like this, the bed does certainly grow more comfortable. and while laying in bed, you can still hear the sound of motorbikes outside the building, but they soon disappear into the distance once again.

the window is slightly open, making all sounds outside just a little louder. the warmth inside your bedroom is too much to take in this early summer evening.

there’s a few people talking while a few cars pass by, but all those sounds are drowned out as you slowly but surely close your eyes and drift off into slumber after a long day.

it does however not take long before it’s time to wake up again, this time only for work and not school. most classes were cancelled as there’s barely anything else to do during this semester, so you decided to take a shift instead and earn some money even if you would very much prefer to stay in bed all day.

you’re supposed to work a ten hour shift today as many of your co-workers are either in school or busy doing something else. so you make yourself breakfast to be able to at least hold out until lunch. even if you only work at a convenience store, it can become busy at times.

you grab your bag where you put your lunch box before putting on your shoes and walking out the door, locking it behind you.

the birds are chirping outside as you’re walking down the path towards work. there are plenty of cars passing by as most people are either going to school or to their jobs. the city grows more busy during the morning than any other time of the day. night do however tend to be a little busy as well during the weekends.

as you enter the convenience store, only your co-worker is there as well as one customer who seems to be buying breakfast for themselves. it’s usually pretty calm this early in the morning, so it doesn’t come as a surprise.

after greeting your colleague, you go to change into your work attire before heading back out into the store and getting ready to start the day.

as the hours go, more and more customers enter the convenience store and as the evening comes, it’s slowly starting to calm down. you’re sorting a few things on the shelves to make sure it looks presentable while more of your colleagues are arriving to soon take your place.

you’re about to back away from the shelves when someone bumps into your shoulder, causing you to drop the few chocolate bars you were holding in your hands.

“oh, i’m sorry,” a boy speaks and when you look to your side, you see someone with blonde hair, almost touching his shoulders. his eyes are black as they meet yours and there’s a gentle smile playing on his lips. he eventually bends down to pick up the chocolate bars and hands them back to you, but that’s when you notice the jacket he’s wearing. he’s a part of the tokyo manji gang.

you look at him with wide eyes but allow him to give you the chocolate back. “thank you,” you speak, flashing him a light smile.

as you look around the store, you notice that there are more people from the gang that have arrived. so you quickly walk over to the cash register to help them pay for their things.

the blonde boy who bumped into you continue to look for something to buy while the others pay for their things, one of them looking familiar. “takemichi?” you ask, smiling at him when he puts his things on the counter. he’s the boyfriend of your best friend, but she never told you he was a part of a gang.

he smiles brightly when he sees you. “y/n! hina didn’t tell me you worked here,” he says as you scan his items. “and she didn’t tell me you were in the tokyo manji gang,” you reply, causing takemichi to slightly look away and scratch the back of his head.

“well, she probably didn’t want to scare you, i doubt you would approve of me if she told you i was in a gang. but we’re all nice though, it’s not like we go around and kill people,” he tries to explain and you nod your head, putting his paid items in a plastic bag that you hand over to him. “it’s okay, and it was probably for the better that she didn’t tell me.”

takemichi chuckles lightly and tells you goodbye before he leaves with some of the others to their motorbikes that are waiting outside the store.

“i’m sorry for bumping into you earlier,” someone suddenly speaks as they put a few things on the counter. you look towards the person and it’s the same blonde man you met briefly just a few minutes ago. “no no, it’s totally okay,” you smile reassuringly.

he smiles back and watches as you scan the items. “i see you already know takemichi though?” he says more as a question and you nod. “yeah, he’s my best friends boyfriend, so i’ve met him a few times. i had no idea he was in a gang though.”

the blonde boy continues to look at you. “he’s a bit of a cry baby, so i can see why you wouldn’t think he could be in a gang. but he can be pretty tough when he needs to,” he smiles. “what’s your name?”

you put his things in a plastic bag and hand it over to him. “y/n, what’s yours?” “manjiro, but most people call me mikey.”

wait, isn’t that the name of the infamous leader of the gang who are currently in the store? he doesn’t look like what you would imagine. he’s not extremely tall, nor does he have large muscles and scary tattoos. he looks like the regular guy. “i’ve heard that name before, you’re the leader?”

mikey nods and grabs the plastic bag. “yup, it was nice meeting you, y/n,” and with that he leaves the store with the rest of the tokyo manji gang. you just met the leader of one of the most infamous gangs in tokyo.

only a few minutes later, you finally get to leave work after a long day. you and hina had planned to meet up afterwards, so this was the perfect time to ask her about takemichi and the rest of the gang. but since she hadn’t told you anything about it before, you were unsure if she would tell you any details now.

“y/n!” your hear her voice as you step outside the store and you wave at her with a big smile on your face. as you approach one another, she pulls you in for a hug. “did you have a long day?”

you nod and begin to walk towards her apartment where she lives with her parents and younger brother. “do you know who i met today?” you ask, but hina shakes her head. “takemichi. you didn’t tell me he was a part of the tokyo manji gang.”

when she hears that, her cheeks grow slightly pink and she looks away for a quick moment. “i didn’t want you to judge him, i know gangs seem scary, but him and his friends are really nice,” she tries to explain. “some of them are a little scary, but most of them are actually very sweet.”

you nod. “i get that, i just don’t want anything to happen to you. if he would be in a conflict with another gang, they could easily find you and hold you hostage or something to get what they want from takemichi. just because the tokyo manji gang isn’t that dangerous doesn’t mean others aren’t.”

hina smiles softly and puts her arm around you for a side hug. “i know, but i love him, so i don’t really want to think about any of that. i know he’ll do anything to protect me.”

“okay, but i’m still gonna worry,” she laughs lightly when hearing that. “i met mikey as well though, i didn’t know he was the leader when i first saw him. he doesn’t really look that scary.”

“i think he’s one of the scariest, at least when he fights. he can go a little crazy at times, at least that’s what takemichi told me. like, he looks innocent and like a normal boy, but in reality he’s the typical gang leader. but he can also be nice and sweet when he wants to,” hina explains. “his childhood was pretty difficult as well apparently. he lost his older brother when he was young.”

the two of you reach hina’s apartment and step inside. “but i don’t think you need to be scared of him, he’s actually really nice.” “it’s not like i’m gonna meet him again, hina. i don’t think i have to worry about him.”

TAG LIST: @reiners-milkbiddies @miffysoo @youatemylollipop @dolledupformanjiro @jmclouds @kissesmellow21 @haitanibros0007 @1-800shutthefuckup

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allcustomboxesco · 1 year

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#All Custom Boxes Co #Custom Boxes Cheap #Custom Boxes In Usa #Custom Boxes Wholesale #Custom Packaging Usa #Custom Packaging Wholesale #Gift Box #Gift Boxes #Gift Boxes For Women #Gift Boxes With Lids #White Gift Boxes #Wholesale Custom Boxes

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sundaylemon-if · 1 month

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Coffee & Co.

(This game is about the woes of minimum wage labor. + a dash of fantasy and comedy)

Demo

Be a barista!

Everyday is coffee, coffee, coffee; many people shuffle in and out of the shop everyday like zombies as you continue to do what you do best. Make a cup of joe.

Flirt and fall in love with some weird customers, get high with your coworkers, cry in the reach-in-cooler when things get tough.

Just don't get fired.

ROs

Hailey (He/Him): A regular customer who always seems to be running from some place to somewhere. Scatterbrained and forgetful at best, he seems to be losing track of time. He has his own lost and found box under the register.

Andy (They/Them): Your ex- something. Best friend or lover, it was never really clear with them, you loved them but they refused to draw a line in the sand. Hot and cold, they were the most important person in your life at one point. But that was a long time ago, and you're over it. Aren't you?

Mori (They/Them): You know 3 things about Them.

They like matcha lattes with 2 pumps of vanilla and a sprinkle of rose sugar.

Their name is Mori (Maybe).

They've got a sick ass goth witch aesthetic.

Partial ROs

Yuna (She/Her): A customer you can see if you're lucky. She always sits in the corner edge of your vision, scratching frantically into a notebook covered in flowers. When she comes around the shop, the air is even sweeter then usual. But you're probably imagining it.

Coworkers

Ciana (She/Her): Your coworker who takes no shits from anyone, her demeanor is standoffish and brusk. But she cares deep, deep, deep down. She's the type to ask for pickles when you won't. Maybe. Well at the very least she's good at her job and seems to always work to closing shifts no one wants.

Ivan (He/Him): A man who flirts like his life depends on it. Maybe it does, but thats not really your problem. Based on his twitter account he seems to drop all his money on mobile games with shiny graphics.

Seiichi (He/Him): Are you sure he still works here?

(everything is subject to change)

#interactive game #interactive fiction #twine game #twine if

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hometoursandotherstuff · 4 months

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1961 motorhome in Portland, Oregon is a rolling time capsule. It's so big it takes diesel fuel and I can't even describe the custom designed interior. $75,000.

Not sure what that is on the tufted door.

Everything is tufted- the walls, ceiling, and furniture.

There's even a tufted bathroom.

And, check out the pink tufted bedroom. It's cozy, though.

Have you ever seen a mini juke box like this?

The tufted driver's compartment looks like a cockpit.

Pilot to co-pilot.

The dining area has a retro lighted picture box.

Full size sofa with side tables.

This thing is a truck.

The back of it looks like a tour bus.

The snazzy rear lights look like something off an old Cadillac.

I don't understand all this, but I guess it's significant. If looks pretty clean and new for a vintage vehicle.

#facebook marketplace #mobile homes #houses #house tours #home tour

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 2 years

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Grays

Frankie Morales x f!reader

{ Grays Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Grays Part II }

Rating: M

Summary: Frankie wants you to cover up his grays. You want to knock some sense into his salt-and-pepper head.

Warnings: Insecure Frankie in need of self-love comes with his own warning, Reader is a hairstylist and has a related nickname, no physical descriptions other than that Reader has hair that can be dyed, not-quite-friends to *respectfully looking* dynamics, mentions of hair, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, sexual innuendos, lots of teasing and banter.

Word count: 4.8k

Notes: The origin story is here if you missed it. This is dedicated to my Frankie soul sister LJ @prolix-yuy who encouraged me to write this many months ago ❤️ As always, I’m an anxious mess writing for a new-to-me Pedro boy, so please be gentle with me (cos it's my birthday week) 🥺

I have a part 2 (with smut) in mind. I love where this leaves off, but who am I kidding. I probably won’t be able to help myself 😂

The bell on the door chimes with a sweet tinkle, cutting through the low, insistent purr of the hair clipper buzzing in your grasp. You don’t look up as you spy broad shoulders and a battered Standard Heating Oil cap crossing the threshold out of the corner of your eye.

‘Are you lost, Morales?’ you drawl indifferently, focused on the task at hand. ‘I have an appointment with Pope today, not you.’

‘He booked it under his name. Thought you’d take it as a prank if I called in myself.’

You look up to meet his gaze reflected in the mirror sitting in front of Greg, your current customer. ‘I wonder why he’d think that.’

Frankie shrugs, leaning against the reception counter with his arms crossed. ‘Beats me.’

You snort. ‘Really? You’ve insisted loudly and repeatedly for as long as I’ve known you that you don’t see the point of going to a hairstylist when you can have Pope cut your hair with kitchen scissors in his bathtub.’

‘C’mon, Shiv.’

‘Oh, he knows my name,’ you gasp sarcastically. You turn to Greg, who’s clearly amused by this exchange, and loop him in. ‘He usually just grunts at me.’

At this point, Ashton - your apprentice and all-round salon maverick - makes an appearance. Clearly having caught the tail-end of your conversation with Frankie, he glances between the two of you with an arched eyebrow. ‘Are we back to chasing customers away, boss?’

‘Sit his ass down but he doesn’t get a free drink,’ you instruct. ‘I’ll get to him when I get to him.’

Ashton goes ahead and ignores your orders point blank, per usual. After hanging up Frankie’s jacket and settling him at the station furthest away from you in the far corner of the salon, you see him sneakily give him a coffee. He can never resist the handsome ones.

You take your sweet time with Greg, cleaning up his sideburns, even though you’re basically done with him - just to tick off your waiting customer.

Not that it works, and you know it won’t. He just sits there, his wide frame filling up the chair, still as a rock. The dog-eared, months-old magazines strategically placed on the table for idle reading lie untouched. That’s Francisco Morales for you.

You’ve been orbiting each other since sixth grade, as all kids in your close-knit neighbourhood do. In fact, most of your customers went to your school.

You don’t even remember how it started - probably at a sleepover - you discovered one day that you’re handy with box hair dye. By freshman year, you were colouring your fellow classmates’ hair in the girls’ toilets after school, earning enough pocket money to keep your cabinet at home fully-stocked with new hair products on rotation.

Your ever-changing hair colour got you into trouble with the headmaster more times than you can count, who nicknamed you Shape Shifter. Your friends abbreviated it to Shifter, then over the years, whittled it down to Shiv, and it stuck.

After being gifted a set of styling scissors for Christmas one year, you started hanging out at the neighbourhood salon, hustling for an apprenticeship. You practised what you observed on your fellow students, giving out haircuts on the bleachers on non-game days for a couple of dollars (the fee waived if something went disastrously wrong).

That’s how you first met Benny - his then cheerleader girlfriend took him in for a haircut when it got too long for her liking. When you eventually opened your own salon years later, he was your first paying customer, having come home after being honourably discharged from the army.

During the early days, when you struggled to fill your appointments and he couldn’t win a fight to save his life, you made a pact. You would do his hair at a heavy discount for his posters and promotions, and in return, he would let you use his photos for the salon’s marketing.

And it worked. Well, not that you had anything to do with him turning his fortunes around on the MMA circuit, but he had everything to do with getting customers through your door. It only got busier when Santi joined the ranks a couple of years later, and even though Will only shows up when his hair gets really unruly, they both sit in front of your camera with no complaint in return for mate’s rates.

Having these guys on your salon’s social media keeps both the gents and the ladies booking up your appointments.

Frankie Morales, though, is a different animal.

When you finally appear over his left shoulder, his coffee is all gone and he meets your eyes in the mirror nonchalantly. He’s leaning his whole weight on his right elbow on the armest, his left arm outstretched and blunt nails tapping on the table, the only hint of impatience he’s giving away.

He’s good at that - he’s the laid-back one out of the boys, the one who hangs back and observes with arms crossed, but quick to crack a grin and throw in a wicked barb when the occasion calls for it. Nothing ever seems to faze him, and probably nothing does - you hear that makes a good pilot, and from what Pope lets on, he’s a damn good one.

It also makes for highly effective bait for the ladies. He’s a popular fixture on the local bar scene - let’s face it, all of the boys are. You’ve seen him in action more than once when Benny or Pope invites you along on a night out, more often than not without Will since he had a baby girl with his high school sweetheart last year. Frankie’s brooding, quiet, beer-sipping act often works better than Benny’s over-the-top flirting or Pope’s Casanova bit.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Hands on your hips, you goad him, ‘Alright Morales, how do I know you’ll pay up, you cheap bastard?’

‘Pope says to put it on his tab.’

‘Music to my ears.’ You tap him on the shoulder. ‘Sit up and off with the cap.’

With a grumble, Frankie lifts the cap up by the beak, ducking his head as he does so. He tosses it onto the table offhandedly and shifts in his seat, but you’re not fooled by his unconvincing air of indifference. From the way he plasters his palms to the top of his denim-clad thighs, as if to stop them from fidgeting, you know he’s feeling vulnerable.

You can’t say you’ve ever seen Frankie without his headgear - now that you think about it, he’s been wearing it since high school. Heck, he might have gone through several incarnations of that blasted hat in the years in between. You’ve caught glimpses when he lifts it up to fix his hair, but otherwise, all you see is what peeks out from underneath, the longer wisps that coil around his ears and the curls at the back.

As it turns out, there’s really nothing to hide - sure, the cut is blunt and his hair lacks shine, but both can be easily fixed. You step into his space and comb through his locks, starting at the base of his skull and working your way up the sides.

The contact startles him - he practically jumps out of his skin, and you don’t miss the way the veins on the back of his hands pop and he digs his nails into his legs.

'Easy, boy,' you soothe with a teasing undertone, earning yourself a glower from the pilot. As much as you enjoy needling him, you do want your customers to be comfortable. So you let slip a deliberate but genuinely appreciative hum as the dark tendrils, subtly tinged with grays, part softly at your prying fingertips. ‘Wow, your curls are really thick.'

He looks up, an unsure frown on his brow. ‘Oh. Is that bad?’

‘No, Morales, it’s definitely a compliment,’ you tell him encouragingly - your bark has always been worse than your bite. ‘What do you use to wash your hair? It’s a bit dry.’

He shrugs. ‘Shampoo.’ At your insistent stare, he snaps, ‘What?’

‘Don’t lie to me, Morales,’ you warn him in a stern voice.

He huffs and gives in. ‘Fine. It’s a 2-in-1 body wash. I get it at the gas station, happy?’

You shoot him a smug grin as he rolls his eyes. ‘Well, you’re using proper shampoo from now on, and conditioner.’ He opens his mouth, a complaint on the tip of his tongue, when you hold a finger up at him. ‘Don’t argue with me, mister. I’ll throw in a couple of bottles on the house to get you started.’

‘Fine,’ he concedes. Unfailingly polite even when grumpy, he adds, ‘Thanks, Shiv.’

Your trusty swivelling stool screeches in protest when you drag it over on its wheels, before you take a seat and address the elephant in the room. ‘So - I’m guessing you’re here because of the wedding.’

You get a grunt in response. Scratching a particularly scrappy patch of his beard that has turned prematurely silver, he says, ‘My ma says I should cover up my old man grays for it.’

You snort, shaking your head. ‘Ha! And you tell your mother I say - hell no, ma’am! I will do no such thing.’

Frankie blinks at your unexpectedly adamant response. ‘What?’

‘I said, hell no,’ you repeat. Turning his head to the side with two fingers on his stubbled cheek, you comb his locks upwards to study the way the grays blend in softly with the umber, matching the ashen flecks in his beard. He doesn't start as badly at your touch this time, but there’s a telltale tick in his jaw, and you can almost hear the tension that thrums just below his skin where a late summer tan still lingers.

‘See how your grays are mainly coming out on the underside?’ you point out. ‘I like the way they just peek through the brown, it gives more depth to your curls. Natural highlights, if you will.’

He looks unconvinced and swipes at a smattering of silver with dismissive fingers. ‘Dunno. Thought the grays make me look old.’

You chuckle. ‘You’re no spring chicken anymore, Morales, and I mean it in a good way. Grays are natural - they will look even better when you start using actual shampoo and conditioner. Trust me, the salt and pepper works on you. I’m not dyeing your grays, and that’s that.’

For the first time today, Frankie turns his head and looks directly into your eyes. ‘My mother’s coming back to town for the wedding, you know. And she remembers where you live.’

You laugh. ‘Go ahead and send her my way, you know I’m not scared of her.’

He scoffs at your big talk. ‘You should be.’

Your relationship with the Morales matriarch is complicated, to say the least. She was always hard on you when you were a kid, thinking you were too wild and undisciplined. Now that you’re grown, you’re still torn between your admiration for her as a single mother who raised a good man, and the woman who never tires of dishing out criticism, warranted or not.

You give him a reassuring pat on the back, solid and warm under your touch. ‘Leave your mother to me, Morales. The grays stay, and I’ll make sure you steal the show at the party.’

‘Your funeral,’ he quips.

‘You just worry about getting yourself to the wedding,’ you retort, cracking your knuckles. ‘Now, are you ready for some pampering?’

Frankie rolls his eyes, but you see the corner of his mouth tick up in a vaguely upward direction - and you take it as a win.

‘Relax, Morales.’

‘I am relaxed,’ he insists through gritted teeth.

‘You’re about as relaxed as a cow on the butcher’s block. Unclench.’

For someone as economical with words as he is, his body certainly says a lot. Every single part of him seems hellbent on making his discomfort known. He breathes a frustrated exhale through his nose, brow deeply furrowed, his glare burning holes into the ceiling.

The leather seat of the backwash barely contains his tall build, his t-shirt stretched to the seams across his chest as he leans back into the basin. He’s bouncing his left leg irritably, the tight denim straining against his lap.

You try - valiantly - not to gape too obviously at the conspicuous bulge nestled snugly between his thighs under his belt buckle. But you can’t avert your eyes from something of that size. It’s against the laws of physics. Or something.

Even from where you’re standing, at the top of the basin peering down the slope of his body, its heft is clearly testing the structural integrity of the zipper of his jeans. Imagine the view from the other side -

Clearing your throat, you bodily press down on Frankie’s shoulders which are coiled up like the hood of an angry python, forcing them to loosen up. He jerks as if he’s a copper wire and you’re electricity. You tease, ‘So sensitive. You act like you’ve never felt a woman’s touch before, Morales.’

‘You know that’s not true,’ he growls at you, the prominent vein in his neck starting to pulse in frustration.

‘No, you’re right - I do know,’ you smirk, dragging out your syllables.

Your tone has him frowning at you, upside down. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I mean - I know,’ you repeat with a conspiratorial wink.

He narrows his eyes at you. ‘What do you know, Shiv?’

You wriggle his eyebrows at him suggestively, enjoying yourself far too much. ‘I own a salon, Morales. I hear things from the ladies about town.’

One large palm reaches up to shield his face in embarrassment, a pained groan escaping between the gaps of his fingers. ‘For fuck’s sake - kill me now.’

You laugh, wrestling his hand from his face to with an impish grin. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve only heard good things so far - Frankie big boy Morales.’

He blushes so hard that his ears and neck go a livid red, and for a minute, you’re actually worried that he’d pass out from not enough blood reaching his heart. Not keen on the prospect of having to explain to the emergency services that you teased the poor man into an aneurysm, you turn on the water and cut short your little chinwag with a good-natured chuckle.

His hands are still tightly clamped around the armrest when you carefully run the shower head along his hairline and behind his ears, soaking his curls. His biceps flex from the tight grip and the lean muscles strain against the sleeves of his t-shirt.

At least he closes his eyes when you start with the shampoo. The velvety lather froths as you patiently wash his hair, which clings to his wet curls like vanilla frosting. The deep crease between his brows eases with each gentle swipe into his locks, and the invisible force pulling his lips downwards slackens. By the time you rinse out the bubbles, you don’t miss the way the tension in his body unwittingly goes with it down the drain.

When your nails slide slickly into his hair with the conditioner, his stubborn body finally, slowly unfurls. His head tips back of its own accord, baring the column of his strong neck as he leans inadvertently into your touch. Colour returns to his knuckles when he releases his death grip on the backwash.

You smile to yourself, scraping your fingertips along his scalp in a firm massage, watching his chest rise and fall as he teeters on the brink of consciousness.

As your thumbs trace a confident path down the back of his skull, they appear to find a particularly sensitive spot near the base of his neck, and it's as if a switch is flipped. You witness the exact moment he breaks - his back arches off the leather seat, his obstinate lips part with a strangled half-sigh catching in his throat as he yields his full weight into the palm of your hands.

If you're not careful, you could get used to this.

‘Still with me, Morales?’ you tease quietly.

He garbles incoherently, and you grin.

Frankie practically molds into the chair like warm wax when you shepherd him back to the styling station. You’re so chuffed with yourself that you don’t even feel the need to gloat at the way his eyes are glazed over and how his head lolls into the soft pressure when you run a fluffy towel through his hair. The man recoiling at the mere brush of your fingers a distant memory.

You run an assessing eye over him, brushing out his locks to gauge your game plan. ‘I like this length on you, so I’ll just trim the split ends and tidy up your sideburns. You’ll benefit from some layering too - it’s a bit heavy on top right now.’

From the way he blinks owlishly at you, you know he doesn’t catch a single word. He shrugs and says matter-of-factly. ‘You can’t do worse than Pope.’

The salon is quiet this afternoon, as it tends to be on Wednesdays. You let him enjoy the peace for a little bit and tap your foot to Ashton’s playlist as your styling scissors move over his curls in metallic snips.

‘Tip your head forward for me,’ you instruct, sliding around the back of his head on your wheels as you probe, ‘So - how are you feeling about the wedding?’

The fabric of his t-shirt bunches over his shoulders as they quirk noncommittally.

‘It’s just a few days away.’

He makes an indifferent noise. But you’re not so easily dissuaded from conversation, and he knows it.

‘Can’t be easy - watching your ex get married.’

Frankie pins you with a long-suffering stare in the mirror. ‘We broke up a year ago.’

Getting onto your feet, you ruffle your fingers through the crown of his curls. ‘Yeah, but you dated for years. She sure moved on quick.’

He huffs a sardonic laugh. ‘Thanks, Shiv.’

Swapping out the styling scissors for blending shears, you argue, ‘What? It’s a legitimate observation. I’m just making conversation here.’

‘Or we could just sit here quietly.’

Ha. As if you ever listen to him. You press on, ‘Why did she invite you anyway?’

Frankie’s sigh sounds a lot like surrender as he humours you. ‘It’s a damned if she does, damned if she doesn’t kind of situation, I guess. The whole town’s invited.’

‘You sure she isn’t trying to flaunt it in your face or something?’

‘Flaunting implies I still care. I don’t.’

You give him a juvenile nudge nudge, wink wink. ‘Well, on the bright side, you’ll definitely get laid, being the heartbroken ex and all. Chicks love that shit.’

He dispatches a side-long stare in your direction. ‘I’m not heartbroken, and that’s not why I’m going. And you know none of this is any of your business, right?’

‘You’re no fun,’ you pout.

He quips, ‘As a professional hairstylist, you really should be better at making polite conversation.’

You snort. ‘Do you really think it’s a good idea to call me rude when I have scissors in my hands?’

Frankie watches you work in the comfortable lull that’s settled between you, gliding the blades along strands of his curls pulled taut, before running a fine-toothed comb through to brush out the loose tufts. Soft coils land on the floor around his chair as you work your way methodically through his layers.

‘Are you going to the wedding?’ he asks eventually.

You shrug. ‘Maybe, depends on my schedule. I gotta say, I’m kind of curious to see how tacky it will be.’

At his eyebrow sternly cocked, you argue, ‘I know she’s your ex and all, but she’s always been a bit tacky. I mean, that remodel of your house was just tragic.’

Frankie frowns. ‘How do you know all this? You’ve never been to my house.’

You wink. ‘Benny tells me everything when I do his hair.’

He pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘Of course. Benjamin fucking Miller.’

You give him a pat on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, I’m on your side, if it helps.’

‘I don’t need you on my side.’

You flash him an insufferable grin. ‘Too bad, Francisco. I am and there’s nothing you can do about it.’

The hairdryer drowns out any further conversation, and Frankie quietly studies you as you cord your fingers through his hair, ruffling it as it dries.

It’s still a bit damp when you switch off the hairdryer and reach up to pull a couple of jars from the shelf above. ‘On the day of the wedding, I want you to wash your hair just before you style it. You have a hairdryer at home, right?’

He throws you a pointed look. ‘I’m not a heathen.’

You grin. ‘Down boy, just checking. Now, you’ll dry your hair until it’s still a bit wet, like so.’ Presenting the styling mousse to him, you say, ‘Then go on and grab some product - you only need a dollop.’

He dips his index finger into the pot, scooping up a generous blob. Your attention is unexpectedly piqued at the sight of his hands.

Have they always been so big?

Realising he’s staring at you in wait, you shake yourself out of it. ‘Ok, rub the mousse onto your fingertips and run them all over your hair, combing from root to end.’

Frankie does as he’s told, face set to a serious scowl as he impeccably goes over each section of his locks, staring into the mirror to make sure he gets every strand. For the first time, you see the pilot in him up close, and you wonder if he’s this thorough about other things, like -

Laundry, your mind interrupts as it careens on the brink of the metaphorical gutter. Get your shit together, Shiv.

‘Good,’ you smile when he’s done, hoping he doesn't see the strain in it. ‘Now, I want you to rake your fingers through the roots when you dry your hair all the way.’ In demonstration, your nails burrow into the base of his thick hair, then you wriggle your fingers upwards towards the ends. ‘It will give you lots of volume and really show off this cut.’

Passing him the hairdryer, you watch him critically in the mirror. He imitates your movements, a bit clumsily and far too cautiously. Leaning down to his ear so he can hear you over the whir, you instruct him, ‘Don’t be gentle, Francisco. C’mon, harder, deeper - don’t hold back.’

He chokes and pins you with a wide-eyed stare in the mirror that glances right off your oblivious self. Along with your words, nothing about this exchange would register in your head in any other way until much, much later tonight, when you replay the conversation in your head in that limbo between sleep and wakefulness.

It may or may not have you squealing into your pillow in latent embarrassment - and something else.

But for now, you’re happy with the way his hair has set, and you gesture for him to switch off the hairdryer. Turning his chair towards you and away from the mirror, you scan your eyes over him and make small adjustments - tucking a couple of strands behind his ear here, a couple of final snips there.

As a final touch, you bury your fingers into his locks, dragging your fingertips through the roots to impart a final tousle so that the curls are loose and soft. You preen at the way he sways into your contact, all shyness gone, his hooded eyes half-closed - before he seems to catch himself and sits up with a self-conscious ahem.

Grabbing a small bottle from the shelf, you say, ‘Last thing - your beard is a bit dry as well. This oil will keep it nice and moisturised, just two or three drops after you wash up in the morning will do.’

Tipping his face up by the crook of your finger and opening up his neck to you, you smooth the ointment along both sides of his jaw, rubbing circles into his neatly trimmed whiskers and all the way up his sideburns. Sliding downwards, your hands seek out the closely shaved stubble tucked beneath his chin. Then, by sheer momentum, your palms continue down his throat in a slow, sticky descent, until the pads of your thumbs slot into the hollow between his collarbones, your fingers resting at the base of his neck where you feel his pulse rabbiting underneath.

The air thickens and shifts between you. When he swallows, you feel the ripple of the moment against your fingertips.

His eyes are on you, and suddenly he’s too close, his skin too hot under your hands. To your horror, something akin to shyness rears its head and you almost stumble backwards to put a safe distance between you.

Scrubbing the oily residue from your hands on a towel, you break the moment with a wink and a steadier smile than you actually feel. ‘You look good, Morales. Ready to take a look?’

‘As if you would take no for an answer,’ he mumbles under his breath. Fondness might be too strong of a word - but you don't think you're imagining the faint trace of amusement in his voice.

With a dramatic ta-da, you spin his chair around with a flourish.

Frankie Morales is obviously not a vain man - he most likely owns five pairs of jeans that he’s worn on rotation for the past fifteen years, his t-shirts are washed ragged, and his trusty leather boots have seen better days. He probably doesn’t use a mirror other than for purely utilitarian purposes, like checking if there’s something stuck in his teeth from his last meal.

But right now, by the way he’s holding his breath as he meets his own eyes in the reflection, you can tell that he’s really looking at himself for the first time in a long while.

You pretend to busy yourself with tidying up the styling station as you discreetly sneak glances at him, feeling strangely bashful for intruding in this moment. When he remembers to breathe again, he tilts his head left then to the right, and back again, even swivelling his chair from side to side so he can peer round the back.

You’ve parted his waves to the side, the lighter cut allowing his curls to carry their natural shape. The healthy sheen, courtesy of the mousse, tempers his grays to a softer, burnt silver that catches the light fetchingly as he moves. Reaching up, Frankie pushes back a stray curl that falls over his eyes, and his back straightens in a quiet show of confidence.

Running a salon is hard work and often thankless. But on days like this? You know you’re meant to do this.

A dramatic gasp draws both of your attention. Ashton is clutching at his chest, backed up against the neighbouring styling station, gaping at Frankie. ‘Mister - you look good enough to devour. Look at that salt and pepper, I’m living for the grays. Doing the Lord’s work, Shiv!’

You laugh as Frankie flushes, scratching an invisible itch on his forehead. You brush the loose hairs off his shoulders with a towel and give him a nudge. ‘See? I’m not the only one who thinks you look good with the grays. You better stock up on the condoms, Morales, the ladies will be all over you at the party.’

He shakes his head self-deprecatingly as he stands up, rubbing his palms on his jeans, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. ‘I doubt it, but - thanks. I appreciate this, Shiv.’

He shrugs on his well-loved burnt yellow jacket, the one with the sleeves perpetually folded up above his wrists and grabs his cap. You hold out a paper bag with the free shampoo and conditioner you promised him, throwing in a jar of hair mousse for good measure. ‘You’re welcome, and you better not put your hat on again this afternoon after all that hard work.’

His fingers brush yours when he takes the bag from you, then, as if it’s the logical next thing to do, he leans down to press a chaste kiss to your right cheek, his stubble coarse against your skin - and you know without looking it’s the gray patch in his beard that brushes against your jaw as he draws back. You fumble, feeling heat prickle the back of your neck and blooming in your rib cage.

He flashes you the most self-assured smile you’ve seen on him this afternoon, which has you biting your bottom lip. ‘I won’t. Maybe see you at the wedding, Shiv.’

It takes you five full seconds to regain motor functions. By the time you unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, Frankie’s already out of the door with a spring in his step.

In companionable silence, you and Ashton watch the pilot strut - because that’s what he’s doing, he’s strutting with a confidence that becomes him - across the road through the glass front of the salon.

‘What a dish,’ Ashton sighs dreamily, flopping into a chair as if his limbs have given out. ‘I hope he comes back soon.’

You smile. A girl could always hope.

Notes: It's the first time I'm using a nickname for a Reader, but I have a real soft spot for Shiv, and I think she deserves one. I'm not sure where the fandom stands on this, does it disqualify the fic as a reader insert? If anyone has an issue with this, please let me know! For me, Shiv has no physical descriptions so to me she's still a reader insert.

I don't know if anyone expected this kind of dynamics between these two, but it's been so much fun to write with a bit of antagonism in the mix. I hope you enjoyed this, reblogs and comments are so, so appreciated as always. Thank you for reading ❤️

#frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier fanfic #frankie friday #queue

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 2 years

Note

Can you do weathervane employee!reader when Xavier is there on outreach day?

I’m almost out of Xavier requests!! Keep them coming and fill this form if you want to be on my taglists. Would anyone be interested in Xavier x Reader x Ajax? Should I start writing for Ajax too? Let me know <3

keep sending requests for Xavier

—

Outreach Day was the Jericho citizens' least favorite day. It wasn’t a secret that Nevermore Academy wasn’t very loved by the normies — as the outcasts would call them —, but Nevermore insisted on having their students volunteering in town every year.

You were busy cleaning the coffee beans you had spilled five minutes ago when the café’s bell jingled, announcing a customer. ‘’Welcome to Weathervane. Please hold in your order or else I’m gonna get fired for making another mess.’’

Your back was turned so you didn’t see the Nevermore student, mistaking him for a customer.

‘’Eh, I’m not here for coffee,’’ a boy’s voice said. ‘’I’m here for Outreach Day. I’ve been assigned to volunteer here.’’

Shit. You had completely forgotten about Outreach Day. Your co-worker had grumbled about it while helping you with the closing, but it had slipped out of your mind during the night.

You quickly wiped the rest of the coffee grounds and tossed them in the trash. Where was Tyler? He’s the assistant manager. Shouldn’t he be the one taking care of the Nevermore student?

When you finally turned, you were pleasantly surprised to see a boy with shoulder length hair and the prettiest green eyes.

‘’Hi. Welcome to Weathervane.’’ You flashed him a smile, completely forgetting you had already greeted him with those exact words when he walked in. Why must you do embarrassing things?

‘’Hi,’’ he greeted back, returning your smile. ‘’Do you need help with those spilled coffee grounds?’’

You shook your head. ‘’I’m good. It’s all cleaned up.’’

‘’Then you’ll get to keep your job,’’ he inferred with a small smile on his face. ‘’I’m Xavier, by the way.’’

Your smile twitched at the corner. Not only was he handsome, but also effortlessly charming. How were you going to get through your day?

‘’Y/N,’’ you said in return. ‘’I’m gonna go fetch you a shirt and apron in the backroom and then I’ll teach you the basics of coffee making. I’ll be right back.’’

On your way, you crossed paths with Tyler who was coming out of the backroom with a box of to-go cups and lids to restock behind the counter. His eyes overlooked over your shoulder, recognizing the familiar face in the café and making a displeased face.

‘’Ugh, great. Out of all the Nevermore students, it’s him we’re stuck with.’’

‘’You know him?’’

His reaction gave you the impression that he already had personal issues with the Nevermore student. Perhaps a past fight over a girl. All you knew was that it was more than just school rivalry.

Tyler nodded, but didn’t give out any details. ‘’Make him wear a hairnet, it's unhygienic. We don't want a hair in the coffees we serve.’’

You narrowed your eyes at him. Your hair was longer than Xavier’s and Tyler didn’t have an issue with it. ‘’Your attempt at ridiculing him in your environment is pitiful. Whatever beef there is between you and him, keep it outside of work.’’

‘’There’s nothing between us.’’

You huffed, not believing him. ‘’If you say so.’’

Behind you, the bell jingled again and Tyler used it as an excuse to end your conversation. ‘’There’s customers. I gotta go.’’

‘’You’re just jealous he’s gonna get more tips than you at the end of the day,’’ you said as Tyler walked away.

The brown shirt somehow looked great on Xavier. It matched his hair perfectly. His apron was tied wrong, but it didn’t matter. He’s probably never worn one before.

You both stood at the coffee bar where the espresso machine was. Beside the machine, syrups lined up and white mugs with the café's name on it were lined up, right at hand's reach.

‘’Okay, Xavier. Tell me everything that you know about coffee.’’

As cute as he was, you really hoped Xavier had some kind of knowledge about coffee-making.

Xavier hesitated. He didn’t want to come off as an ignorant idiot, but coffee was not his thing. ‘’People pay a ridiculously high price for something they can make at home?’’

You held in a laugh. He wasn't wrong. Some coffee drinks on the Weathervane menu were over eight dollars. That’s crazy. Who in their sane mind pays that much for coffee?

‘’Can you tell an americano from a macchiato?’’

‘’Do I have to use the espresso machine for those?’’

‘’I'll take that for a no.’’ You grabbed the filter from the machine and the coffee grounds, careful to not spill them this time. ‘’It's not rocket science. Once you know how to make a shot of espresso, you can basically make any drink,’’ you explained. ‘’Take this filter and fill it with grounds. Use the tamper to pack them tight.’’

Xavier took the items from you and did as he was instructed, filling the filter and pressing them down with the tamper. Once it was filled to the brim, he glanced up at you. ‘’What now?’’

‘’You steam the milk.’’

Xavier was a fast learner. Twenty minutes later, he was on his own, making lattes and cappuccinos as if he had been working there for months. His effortless charm worked in his favor with the customers. In two hours, he had made more tips than Tyler usually did in a full day. A girl even gave him her number, but he crumpled the paper and chucked it in the trash. Perhaps he already had a girlfriend?

Soon enough, it was close to 4pm and Outreach Day was almost over. You felt sad to have to say goodbye to Xavier, but his time at Weathervane was only for a day.

‘’My time here is up in ten minutes,’’ he said, bringing the dirty dishes he had collected from the tables after you had just finished with a customer. ‘’Would I be out of line to ask for your number?’’

His question came to you as a surprise.

You never gave your number to customers. You were there to make money and — in a near future — get out of Jericho, not find love. But Xavier was not a customer and he was also not a real employee, which wouldn’t go against company policy.

His green eyes were looking at you, waiting for your answer. You didn’t want today to be the last time you saw him.

You pulled a marker from your apron’s pocket and grabbed Xavier’s arm, scribbling your number on his skin. A piece of paper would have been more favorable, but with your number right on his arm, there’s no way he’ll forget about you.

Xavier looked down at his arm, not expecting you to do this. ‘’Normal people use paper, you know?’’

‘’What’s the fun in that? Besides, you don’t have a way to lose my number…unless you lose your arm.’’

He shook his head and grinned. ‘’I don’t plan on it. It’s my good hand so it would be very unfortunate for me.’’

A loud throat clearing came from the side of the café where Tyler was passing a mop, breaking the moment. ‘’No personal business on working hours.’’

—

Xavier Thorpe taglist: @sofiaadler @partyfly @hoodforcalum @thelilacmourning @ellessecretobsession @su-alteza-emia @achoo---uu @not-leaprvt @xaviersgf @peterparkerdilf @roadworkaheadisurehopeitdoes @dragon-chica @coldtacozinepanda @wrldofsage @eddiemunsonsluvrrr @capriaura @officialsaturn @babyfiva @maevaomizzolo @kelloggs-world @whosljt @ajpanda181 @belovedrey @emerycrt @elizabitchsshit @heaven-hiding @lilithlikestoread @est-liber @moonisu @dessxoxsworld @parker-nite @bellblake121890 @vesperazhier @kaldurahms-lover @beeebo234 @nephilimsss @mayuphoenix @sweetheartlizzie07 @watermelon-18 @snixx2088 @555stargirl555 @robinscardigan @chumchum19 @lilttblog @aphex2winn @heizenka @mystargirl-interlude @hwrtsiren @babygirljay20 @wildflowerlyss @strangersomeone @openfandoms @charlottelaffin @iheartmaddyperez @starless-starkov @ali-r3n @poppet05

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe x you #xavier wednesday #wednesday #wednesday imagine #wednesday netflix #percy hynes white

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yearning-for-autumn · 5 months

Note

Eris x gn reader pure fluff and comfort for an insecure reader sfw nothing explicit

Don't Worry Darling

Word Count: 1,016

Pairing: Eris x gn!Reader

Warnings: Feelings of low self-worth

Summary: After a bad day at work you fall into your usual pattern of questioning your worth. Eris makes sure you know how much he loves you.

A/N: Thank you for the request! I was feeling a bit rubbish after losing my first draft of this, but somehow it got finished!

You glanced at the clock, only fifteen minutes until you could escape home. Your co-worker seemed oblivious to your sullen mood and wittered on about her weekend plans whilst you counted the minutes until closing time. Usually, you loved working at the little bookshop. It was tucked away in the heart of the Autumn Court’s main city, and enjoyed by Fae from all walks of life. You were an avid reader, and generally didn’t mind talking to the customers.

Except today.

It had been a throwaway comment, something spewed in frustration and not really meant to be rude though not meant to be polite either. But it had stuck with you. They had come in early, asking for a particular book you thought you had; a beautiful leather bound tome with gilded edges. You had seen it this morning in the stock room, and you told the customer as such. But when you went looking for it, it was gone. You approached your manager, asking if you still had it.

“No, we sold that first thing today.” She said, and you groaned, “But we can always order another copy in.”

This is the message you relaid to the customer, an older High Fae Male with clothes that reeked of money, he rolled his eyes.

“Well you told me you had it out the back. Are you really so incompetent at your job that you don’t know what you have in stock? Don’t bother ordering it, I will be sure to let your manager know that you have lost my custom today.” With that he turned on his heel and strode out the door, leaving the doorbell jingling miserably in his wake.

This was the start of a terrible day for you. You lost your favourite coffee cup somewhere in the cavernous break room, stacked a whole box of new stock on the wrong shelf, and had to miss your lunch break due to a co-worker being off sick. By the end of it all you were totally drained.

Your co-worker was still chatting away when the doorbell rang and she gasped, but you were still running on autopilot.

“Sorry, we’re just closing up, please come again tomorrow.” You said without looking up.

“I’m sure you can make an exception for me, can’t you?” Came the smooth, self-assured voice of your mate. Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court.

You fought the urge to run into his arms and sob with sheer relief. Your co-worker tittered and you barely suppressed an eye-roll. It had been years since the two of you were mated, and he frequently visited you at work when he had the time. Then again, was it so surprising that people couldn’t believe you were together? Who were you compared to him? His smirk dropped when he saw your exhausted expression and he opened his arms for you.

You stepped forward and let him pull you in close.

“Rough day?” He asked, kissing the top of your head. You just nodded against his chest, breathing in his smoky scent. He held you a moment, letting you soak in his warmth, then released you and gathered your things. With a polite smile to your co-worker he winnowed you both home to the Forest House.

Once in your room, you slumped into your armchair. It was your favourite spot in the palace. Next to a large window, it overlooked the golden forests of Autumn that the room in an orange afternoon glow. Eris came to stand at your side, carding his fingers along your scalp.

“Tell me about today.” He said, his words gently demanding. You told him everything as he continued his massage down your neck and shoulders.

“I’ll make you a tea.” He said once you were finished, kissing the spot underneath your ear. You sighed as he left.

The mirror that angled towards the bed mocked you as you took in your tired form, draped in your chair in a way unbecoming of a High Lords mate. Incompetent. That’s what he had said. Incompetent at your job. You had it easy. What was bookselling to running a court? And you couldn’t even manage that. Even now, High Fae and Lesser Fae alike queued for even an audience with Eris at balls and parties, why would he ever have chosen you?

“But I did choose you.” Eris re-appeared in the doorway, tea in hand and expression pained. You realised your innermost thoughts had been pushed directly down the bond. Eris put the tea down and held out his hands, pulling you up from the chair and placing his hands protectively on the small of your back.

“And I will always choose you. You are capable, and smart, and brilliant.” He smiled, and kissed you softly, “You mean everything to me. Sometimes I wonder why the Mother gave me such a sweet mate when I have been so terrible.”

You frowned, and your arms pulled him tighter against you.

“You’re perfect.” You state and he pulls a face. You growl. “No. You are.”

A smirk graces his features and you realise, a bit belatedly, that you have been played at your own game. You huff and bury your face in his shoulder as he laughs at your dawning realisation.

“Tomorrow I’m taking the day off, and so are you. We’re going to spend the day together doing whatever you want.”

“I can’t I—” You start to protest but he silences you with a kiss. You roll your eyes.

“Come to bed, my love.” He says with a self-satisfied smile and you are helpless to stop it as he picks you up and deposits you onto the plush bedding. You wriggle into the soft sheets despite still being in your work clothes and it being well before night time. He shuffles in behind you and you melt into the warmth of his embrace. His breathing is even and rhythmic against your neck and your eyelids droop.

“I love you.” He murmurs against your neck, the last thing you hear before drifting off, dreaming of Eris.

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