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clairewritesjjkxreader · 9 months

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Sukuna’s Wife and Yuuji’s Onee-chan (Sukuna x Reincarnated!Y/N) scenario: Heian era childhood

Request by @serendipitylovescat

A/N: This is a possible origin story for Sukuna and Y/N in this onee-chan au, but I haven’t made up my mind as to how the two met and what their lives were like in the early days. Much like with the Joker’s multiple choice past, it’s the mystery that keeps on giving. Anyway, HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE.

Trigger warning: child abuse, bullying, violence, swearing

Ryomen Sukuna. Two-faced Sukuna. Bastard. Murderer. Halfling. Demon.

Normally, parents give extra thought when naming their children. For a lot of boys, they’re usually named based on desired traits like “strong” or “powerful.” But for this son, his father snidely called him “two-faced” and the name stuck.

Like every baby when they are born, Sukuna arrived in this world covered in blood and weeping. The other villagers could only think of the worst outcome for his mother. After all, so many young wives who were healthier than she died during labor, so it was only normal to expect the stick-thin woman to pass on.

But for better or worse, she survived.

A smooth delivery would normally be a thing of celebration, a living mother and her plump baby were supposed to be a blessing. For Sukuna’s parents, such a thing was a curse.

Born with four arms and four eyes and suspiciously symmetrical birthmarks, such an abomination could only be a curse.

His father suspected his wife of seducing a yōkai, he became a drunk and beat his wife daily, unwilling to even look at the thing that she claimed to be his own son. The other villagers believed that he ate his twin inside their mother and was punished by the gods.

No one knew the truth, not even the child himself.

One thing they could all agree on was this: Sukuna was a monster.

He was a monster who pushed his father into doing bad things. He was a monster who caused his mother shame and suffering, as she loved to remind him every single day.

Sukuna leaned on the tree, watching as the other kids in their little village played tag. His stomach growled but he could only ignore it. If he returned home to eat, his mother would yell at him. He only ate when she was asleep or beaten into unconsciousness by his father.

“Found you.”

Sukuna looked up and beamed. That’s right, everyone except one person hated him.

Unlike him, you were normal as far as his eyes could see, but you didn’t like staying in your house and you didn’t talk about your family. Neither of you liked anything or anyone in this village, only each other.

“Onigiri with fatty tuna I caught this morning,” you said, sitting next to him.

Sukuna voraciously bit into the rice and fish, savoring every moment with gratitude. “You’re the best cook I know.”

“Tell me if you want some tea. I managed to sneak some out.”

“Thanks–” his grin faded when he spotted familiar black and blue spots on your inner arm. They were the same bruises his mother had when she tried to block her husband’s hands.

“Who did this?” He asked, his three free hands grabbing your wrist.

“Ryo-chan,” you said his nickname–you were the only one who was never afraid of saying his name–“you’re hurting me.”

“S-sorry.” He pulled away two hands and softened the grip on the remaining one. He gently rotated your arm to get a better look. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You grinned. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

“Did you—”

“Hey, Ryo-chan…” You shook off his grasp, causing him to frown, but you quickly intertwined your fingers together, making him blush. “If I told you I plan to run away, will you come with me?”

He almost dropped the onigiri.

Your smile became sad. “I… You’re the only one I will ever miss. I don’t like this place.”

He put his remaining hands over your connected fingers and he blurted out, “Yes!”

You blinked, wide-eyed.

He cleared his throat and looked away. “I-I mean, yes, let’s go.”

Your face brightened and he smiled back.

That’s right. Even if this damned village burned to the ground, as long as your hand never let go of his then nothing else mattered.

Additional headcanons for this scenario:

Sukuna’s dad never hit him because deep inside the man was actually afraid. So he took out his frustrations on his wife, who in turn, blames her misfortune on her son.

Speaking of Sukuna’s mother, she was a vain beauty, the most gorgeous in their village during her prime, and was distraught when her appearance faded due to malnutrition during her pregnancy. The entire time, she silently prayed that the baby would die early so she could recover quickly. So in addition to her husband’s mistreatment of her, the loss of her looks has made her resent her son.

The other village kids didn’t like Sukuna because he gave off a “disgusting energy” (or “bad vibes” as today’s lingo would call it). Some avoided him but others went out of their way to gang up on him, beating him up and stealing whatever he carried, be it food or toys from you.

Sukuna didn’t fight back because he truly believed that he deserved every bad thing that happened to him. That being said, he allowed himself one selfish choice and accepted your company, enjoying your friendship. The only warmth in his otherwise dead existence.

The first time Sukuna resorted to violence was…it was a few days after your proposal. It was a few minutes before day break and he caught the other kids holding your head down a nearby pond. He didn’t know what he did, only what happened after: you were crying into his chest, hugging and thanking him despite the blood all over him.

After washing himself, he walked you home, hair and clothes still wet from the pond, your mother was the first person to see you. Instead of concern or worry, she slapped you across the face in front of everyone before dragging you away by the hair.

Because it was your mother, he could only watch on, until your eyes met and you whimpered his name.

That night, a little village with no more than fifty people, burned to the ground as two children watched hand in hand.

A/N: Speaking of multiple choice past; in JJK (and sadly, even in real life parts of the world), twins are considered bad luck. What if Sukuna didn’t consume his twin in utero and they both survived? What if both fell for Y/N? What if the current Sukuna killed and ate his own brother because he wanted to, in his own sick way, combine himself and his twin into one being so that Y/N wouldn’t have to choose?? Hot damn. The perfect yandere love triangle. But what a pain that would be to write without illustration LOLOLOL.

@shadowywizardarcade @hannya-exists @nineooooo @lilachaeyo @pumpkindudeishere @jessbeinme15 @fluffy-koalala @cringeycookies @frogzxch @isimpfordanielpark @marvelsgirl4ever @sanzusmom @sheccidoscar @alastorhazbin @satosuguswife @lumanii @leahlovesreading @blackstaw @boba–12

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lets-go-banana-fishing · 11 months

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Rating Bf characters on how well I think they would perform at their Part-time job

Y'all remember the Banana Fish part-time job artworks? Well I remembered it so now it's my job to share my unwanted opinion on all of them :)

1. Ash as Pizza delivery boy: 5/10

With Ash it just really depends on his mood

He's the fastest deliverer if he wants to

But he's also the guy to deliver your pizza with half the pizza missing and his explanation being: "sorry bro I got hungry"

Also your order will "mysteriously disappear" if you don't tip him enough

2. Shorter as Waiter: 10/10

I mean it's canon that Shorter works at Chang Dai

He wants to be the future owner of the diner so his grind is strong 💪💪

Makes the customers feel comfortable and I just feel like the vibe would be good with him.

3. Sing as Messenger Boy: 7/10

I can see him having fun at this job

Problem is when he starts to have too much fun and gets too invested in people's businesses

He's gonna know every secret in every neighborhood that's nearby

Bonus point because despite acting like he's a delivery boy from the 1900's (definitely tried to speak like them as well), he does a good job

4. Eiji as Pet Groomer: 100/10

Staff was so right for this

Puppy happiness increases by 1000%

5. Yut Lung as Beauty Advisor: 9.5/10

Okay first of all he ABSOLUTELY KNOWS what he's doing so this is an amazing job choice

Will give his clients actual helpful advice and make sure they look STUNNING

Also he definitely lets you rant about your day and will gossip with you whilst fixing your mascara

(and he absolutely calls his clients "honey" or "sweetie" so bonus point)

Minor problem is he WILL judge you if he doesn't like one of your requests and he WILL let you know

6. Blanca as Bartender: -1000/10

I do not trust this man with my drink.

#but ofc they all slayed their outfits #AND PLEASE THEY ALL LOOK SO CUTE #LOOK AT THOSE DOGGOS WAAA #banana fish #ash lynx #eiji okumura #shorter wong #lee yut lung #yut lung lee #sing soo ling #blanca #also why are Shorter's glasses at the back of his head LMAO WHAT #mimi posts

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peaches2217 · 9 months

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Stealth has never been Mario's strong suit, so it takes every ounce of his concentration to keep his footsteps light. He gets a few amused glances from the groundskeepers, but they don't interfere, nor do they hint his presence to his target, who's now only twenty yards away, fifteen, ten. He's decided he'll bring them a heaping plate of bruschetta tomorrow to thank them for putting up with his antics. But for now, he has more important matters to attend to.

Now he's five yards away, and the blonde bombshell sipping tea in a wrought-iron garden chair is still none the wiser to his presence. He can't help himself; he rushes forward, balancing his delivery precariously in one hand as he approaches, and the surprised squeak Peach emits when he covers her eyes from behind immediately validates his efforts.

"I'm thinking we're overdue for a nice merenda, yeah?" He's proud of how light and naturally he's able to say it, given the cake he's poured so much time into is about to slip out of his grasp. He's able to reach around her so that the dish falls from his fingertips and directly onto the table without so much as disturbing her teapot and saucer.

The impromptu acrobatics coupled with Peach's delighted giggle makes him feel invincible. He really is Number One.

"Chocolate?" Peach guesses, sniffing the air, and the eagerness in her voice is enough to melt his heart.

"Close!" He uncovers her eyes then, and Peach gasps in excitement as she takes in the dish he's placed before her. "Double dark chocolate cake with three layers of chocolate mousse and a generous sprinkling of powdered cocoa! As requested."

While he's still out of her line of sight, Mario can't help but pump his fist in victory. He's been cycling those exact words through his head since early this morning, when Peach awoke him with a craving so insatiable that it drove her to tears. Though she was asleep again within twenty minutes, he made it his sacred duty to fulfill her wish, and now here he is, seeing it off without a hitch.

Not normally one to brag on himself, Mario can't help but acknowledge just this once that he's like, the best husband ever.

As he fishes for a serving knife and fork from the cocoa-stained burlap apron still tied around his waist, Peach's elation fizzles into something far meeker. "Oh, stars," she groans, setting her teacup back on its saucer so she can lean back and bury her face in her hands. "Mario, I'm so sorry, I—"

"Ap ap ap," Mario cuts in. "No apologies! Just cake." He comes to her side so that he can retrieve the extra plates from beneath the cake's serving dish, and she looks up at him then, her face pink with embarrassment but bright with happiness in spite of it.

She recomposes herself with a deep breath and sits back upright, her swollen belly making the action only slightly less graceful than normal. "You're incredible," she sighs, smiling softly.

Mario debates pushing the cake aside and kissing every last inch of her until she's squealing with laughter, but he's an Italian man with a pregnant wife, so even thinking about letting her go hungry makes him feel worthy of capital punishment. He dutifully serves her with a generous slice and internally pats himself on the back once more.

Peach melts into a puddle of bliss as she savors her first forkful of cake. "Oh, sweetie, you're my hero." Mario, now seated across from her with his own slice of cake, opens his mouth to respond, admit that Toadsworth is the true hero because he's the one that walked Mario through each step of the baking process and ensured the dessert would actually look as good as it tasted... but then Peach's face changes, her bliss replaced with something that looks like surprise.

Before he can inquire, she relaxes again, resting her free hand on her belly. "Our hero, sorry," she rectifies, and the fondness in her eyes as she looks down and pets the bump in her abdomen has Mario reconsidering his whole Cake Now, Kisses Later stance.

"Ah, so she likes it too?"

"Who do you think has been giving me all these cravings in the first place?" Spearing another bite of cake on her fork, Peach giggles. "I can assure you she’s very happy right now.”

Mario’s heart leaps in his chest, realizing right away what she means.

The baby’s recently started moving, according to Peach. Subtle movements, movements she can’t really put words to, but gentle and very real affirmations that there’s a fledgling life within her. It tickles, she’s told him.

Mario still hasn’t gotten to experience it yet. He’ll spend long stretches of time with both hands and one ear on her stomach, holding his breath and keeping his muscles as still as humanly possible in the hope that he’ll feel or even hear their baby. Nothing has come of it yet except acute oxygen deprivation and the information that he looks like a Goomba when he’s so intently focused like that.

It’s enough just to know, at least for now. That alone brings him joy beyond words. He eats his cake in silence as Peach tells him about her day so far between bites, half-listening and half just admiring the way she glows in the afternoon sunlight.

Between Peach, who’s eating for two, and Mario, who always eats for two anyway without the excuse of pregnancy, the cake is gone in half an hour.

“Oh… I’m going to regret that,” Peach sighs, but her contented countenance betrays her complete lack of remorse. “Will you walk with me? I’ll be in a sugar coma before sunset if I don’t get some exercise.”

Their walk finds them meandering through the garden’s central hedge maze together, their feet following the familiar path blindly as they chat back and forth about various projects and undertakings and plans they’ve found themselves saddled with of late. Peach is in the middle of pressuring Mario once more to reveal his Big Secret Building Project to her (a nursery, with completely hand-crafted furniture, but he’s still a month or so out from completing it and he so desperately wants it to be a surprise) when it happens again: she stiffens slightly and draws in a quiet but quick breath, stopping mid-sentence and touching her stomach tentatively.

“Peachy?” Mario inquires.

Rather than respond, she takes his hands and places them on her belly, and his heart thumps a bit harder as she guides his left hand to a spot just right of her navel. Then she leaves it there, her hand resting atop his, and waits.

He doesn’t feel anything. The disappointment is short-lived, because even if he can’t feel it, he knows their baby is stirring beneath his hands right now, and the thought alone fills his heart to bursting.

“Don’t be shy now,” Peach urges in a gentle croon, stroking her right hand over the back of his left. “Wasn’t the cake yummy? Don’t you want to tell Papa thank you? I know that would make him very happy.”

Mario clears his throat to avoid choking, because the maternal affection thick in her voice so overwhelms him with love that it’s making him dizzy. He imagines their baby all curled up within Peach, soothed and intrigued by a voice she surely recognizes as her mother’s by now, and then he’s imagining that same baby wrapped in soft blankets and cradled safely in her mother’s arms, being rocked to sleep to the tune of a lullaby in the dim light of the stars—

And then he feels it. A nudge, directly against his palm, quick but pinpointed.

He stares down at his hand for a moment, wondering if maybe he imagined it. Maybe he was daydreaming so hard that now he’s feeling phantom sensations. But when he meets Peach's eyes, he finds her grinning ear to ear, and he knows right away that his senses aren't tricking him.

“Wh—” A matching grin, one filled with disbelief and awe, spreads across his face. “When did—”

“Just earlier today.” Peach chuckles into the knuckles of her gloved left hand. “I was speaking in front of the Parliament, and suddenly she just started kicking. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a hard time keeping a straight face!”

As if on cue, it happens again, a tiny kick against Mario’s palm. Their baby, their little girl, strong and healthy and growing every day and now finally making herself known— it’s too much to bear.

“Ah!” Mario cries, and then he’s kneeling on the cobblestone path, pressing kiss after kiss to that exact spot where he felt his child move for the first time. “Brava!” Mwah! “Nostra talentuosa principessina!” Mwah! “Sei proprio una brava calciatorina!” Mwah!

Peach is shrieking with laughter in no time at all, crying out from ticklishness but making no effort to stop him, and pretty soon he’s laughing right along with her. He really is Number One, he finds himself thinking again, though not in self-satisfactory pride this time around. He’s the number one luckiest and happiest guy in the world.

#I warned y’all.#tw pregnancy #super mario bros #smb #mario #princess peach #mareach #mario x peach #peaches' fancy fics #daddy marioposting

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mybelovedwoo · 1 year

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dates with ateez - headcanon

how would a date look like with ateez members

headcanon, romance, fluff

gn!reader x bf!atz

wc. ~0.4k

an: you can request headcanons if you want to!! if you want to be tagged in any of my fics you can apply here <3

masterlist

hongjoong -shopping dates, where you both help each other to pick out outfits -just complimenting one another -studio dates, where you surprise him with food late at night -just eating delivery food and talking about anything and everything -him showing you what he's working on lately -making you playlists that you listen to together all the time

seonghwa -as funny as it sounds, lego dates -just the two of you building legos, or if you don't like it, you just sit there and admire him or cuddle him -just going on a walk, holding each other's hands -he pays attention that you walk on the inside, where it's safer -if you're cold he gives you his jacket

yunho -ohh game dates for sure -he hates losing, but sometimes he lets you win just for fun, and totally not because he likes to see you being excited about it -doing fun things, like going to a karaoke bar or renting a small boat and going fishing, or going to an amusement park and trying out every ride -lots and lots of laughter

yeosang -really random dates without any planning -picnic in the winter? sure. exploring a whole new city just for fun when it's pouring rain? sure. arranging a scavenger hunt at a place you don't even know? sure. -just a very sweet guy who listens to you all the time, and wants you to be the happiest -gym dates, if you don't like working out, you just sit there in the gym and watch him

san -the sweetest boy in the whole world -wants to do everything you like and makes you happy -you mentioned once that you would like to learn how to crochet, he books a course for the two of you the next day -he is the type of guy to bring you home, spending time with his family, showing his hometown around for you, telling you stories from his childhood -just staying at home and watching a movie -loooots of cuddles and kisses!!!

mingi -drive-in-movie, buying everything that is available at the buffet -not even watching the movie properly, but making fun of it, and laughing all night long -going to a concert of your favorite band together and going out to a bar afterward -always a lot of fun -just talking about nonsense things, non of you understand but it makes sense for the two of you -having a lot of inside jokes no one else understands

wooyoung -you'll never be bored with him that's for sure -going out all the time -going to all the restaurants in town, then rating them, and going back to the best on your anniversary -going to the han river at night, and exploring the city -never letting go of your hands and pulling you closer if somebody is a little too close to you -spending a lot of time with his family too

jongho -going to cafés, drinking americano, although you don't like it and always end up ordering something else -going to the park afterward, sitting on a bench, and talking about everything -he is a very good listener and gives the best advice -buying each other books and reading them, then telling each other what it was about -always buys you a gift, when you are on his mind, so the next date he can give it to you

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meowzilla93 · 9 months

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Possessive Derek! maybe a little OOC buuuuut thats what HC and AUs are for!

At the request of the lovely @differenteagletragedy! now im not going full yandere style, just more like, they have wanted you and want to keep you to themselves type deal

Ill throw out one for Baxter and Cove a little later on, these boys make me feel so many thing

Derek:

Lets go back a bit with Derek because he has been there since you were 13, this boy has been around and has had to listen to everything that you have gone through

You guys are keeping contact throughout high school, and of course the holidays come and go, but each year, Valentines day comes and Derek is slightly fuming

You are in your 10th year and this year, you receive chocolates and roses from people, some just as a holiday thing, others who are trying to vie for your affection

Of course, you already have someone who has captured your heart, even though you haven’t really admitted it to them yet

You’re having you chat with him after school and you both are giggling over some story he is telling you

Derek then asks how school was and you tell him of all the flowers and chocolates and confessions you got due to Valentines

He goes quiet, and in a low voice asks how many flowers, chocolates etc etc

You have no idea why he is asking but tell him regardless

Rest of the conversation goes swimmingly, like nothing ever happened

A few weeks later though, you get a delivery, from an anonymous sender

It’s a bouquet of your favourite flowers, snacks and a little card attached to it

“No one will ever know you the way I do.”

You cant help but blush at that proclamation, trying to figure out who would’ve sent that, not considering the conversation that happened during Valentines day

Oh but its school holidays now and he has that rare week or day off? He is going to spend his time attached to your hip

You are at the shopping complex and you walk into your friends from school, and one of them is just that bit flirty

You pay them no mind, as you are used to their antics, and as they turn their attention to the other, you cant help but feel Dereks presence next to you, as you feel the ghost of his hand hovering over the lower of your back

When you look up at him, you are stunned by the dark look in his eyes as he stares at the friend that was flirting at you earlier

“Derek?” The look disappears as if it wasn’t even there to begin with. “Yes?” “Is everything okay? You looked, upset…” “What? No everything is fine!” Throwing you a smile that would put the sun to shame “Do you want to ditch these guys and make our way to the beach? I’ll even carry you the whole way.”

Letting out a little squeal you agreed in a hurry, as Derek dips down to let you on his back and he carries you away, looking back on last time, catching the eye of the friend and making sure to deliver the message to stay away

Oh but when he hears about dancing boy come back into your life and finds out how open and flirty he is, Derek is beside himself

He cant meet with you until the end of summer

At the start all he can do is message you each day, making sure you are fine, fishing for information about Baxter and how he was acting towards you

You are fond of the monochrome man, but just stay as friends the entire time, but Derek can only see you falling further and further for him

A little self conscious of his emotions, he pulls back a touch and stops contact for a bit, blaming the scholarship he was doing

The Mountains trip comes and this was his undoing

He begs you not to go, its not safe, what if something happens, he isn’t here for you

But nothing deters you and you go, a touch annoyed with how he acted about this

The trip comes and goes, and a few days after you are back at home, there is a knock on your front door

Its Derek and his beautiful emerald eyes, staring at you longingly and sadness

He apologizes for the way he acted, he didn’t want to push you away and it seems he was becoming a touch controlling over you

You have a long talk and are able to get back to where you both were before all this happened

Proposing the idea to meet Baxter so he can meet him himself and see that he was harmless

Within moments of meeting, Baxter clicks that Derek is head over heels for you as when the two shook hands, Baxter felt a hard pressure on his hand. Though there was a sunny smile on Dereks’ face, there was a touch of a threat in his hand. Smiling amiably, he doesn’t react to the events transpired, but does ease off the flirty banter with you

After that summer ends, and Baxter hurts you with his dismissive attitude, Derek makes a promise to you that he will never let anyone like that hurt you ever again, making a mental note to maybe wreck pretty boys face if he ever gets the chance

Once you finally get together, he will always make sure to be by your side so that no one makes the mistake thinking you are available

Should you get compliments from someone at work, he will make sure to send you something to the office to remind you of him, and make others aware of him

Someone catcalls you, and he is right there? Oh there will be words

In the club or a bar and someone tries to hit you up. You end up on his lap/knee with a firm hand on your hip as he stares down the other person

Derek has spent 10 years yearning for you and trying to make sure you see him and no one else. He will spend the rest of his life keeping your gaze only on him

#our life beginnings and always #olba #our life #our life derek #our life headcanons #olba hc #derek suarez

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theangrycomet-art · 8 months

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Sonic Underground Reprise: Hedgehog Family Tree Hedge

Here- the parents, the aunts, the uncles, the grandpa and grandma's and even some cousins.

Now, are most of these characters relevant to the main plot? No. But if you have followed me for any amount of time you should know of my love of expanding character's family trees.

COMMISSIONS OPENED

Kofi

Family Notes: (this gets kinda long)

Parlouzer Lore (paternal side)

Charlotte was a sailor who split her time exploring and fishing with her crew

she may or may not have been a pirate

Maurice was a skilled carpenter who worked from his home workshop in Port Mobius

he was just a humble, if a bit on the quiet side,

the two met by chance when Charlotte was exploring the area while Maurice was trying to get groceries

instantly charmed with one another, they kept in touch and she made it a point to always come back to see him every chance she could

after about 5 years of this she proposed to him and the two were married the next day

Chuck was born shortly after (honeymoon baby)

he mostly stayed on the mainland with his father while Charlotte continued working on the high seas

Julius was born when Charles was 12, and Pauline Pauli when he was 19

Chuck left for college early at 16, so he wasn’t particularly close with his younger brothers until they were practically adults

Jules ran away when he was 13 to join the circus, completely cutting off contact for nearly 5 years

At 17, he and several other members of the circus (including Argus) were arrested in Casino City after being framed for treason by a rival performance troupe. Due to their age however, the two were given an alternative to jail time: enlistment, which they begrudgingly accepted (this was HIGHLY illegal btw, as both were underage and therefore not qualified to be enlisted)

around 3 years into service, Chuck got wind of the bullshit charges placed on his brother and threatened to raise hell if the two were not brought back home immediately

Jules and Argus were then hired as a part of the Royal guard where they were charged initially with guarding King Max’s son, Crown Prince Nigel

Pauli avoided trouble growing up, having taken more after his father than his lovely, impulsive older brothers

Ihe developed a passion for piloting and decided to start his own delivery business, which would be how he would meet his future wife Bernie

Bernie

Nadim Lore

ditch the royal family part and exchange it for a powerful magic fam

Hatshe is the matriarch of a powerful magic guild, the Rising Sun, though she has retired from any official position

the Rising Sun was formed by Aman-Rapi long ago

Hatshe met Olgilvie when traveling through the Kingdom of Mercia when the then King requested the aid of the Rising Sun’s strangest magician (they had meant to request “strongest” but their had been a slight typo, luckily for them Hatshe was both)

Bastard son of a a duke, Olgilvie was knight renound for his skills with a blade as well as the strings

he was assigned to aide Hatshe in her assignment

the two did not get along initially, as both were headstrong individuals who had their own way of doing things, but eventually became friends, and later lovers

He ran off after her once her assignment had been completed and continued courting her back home

Layla is Aleena’s older sister, as well as the current leader of the Rising Sun

Though she may appear calm, collected, and regal, outside of official appearances she is a very much a dork who is not above a little mischief

she met Terios when the were children during the family’s travels

more specifically, she found his half dead body lie partway out of a river bank

he was taken in to the guild, where he showed strong promise in healing magic

childhood friends-> lovers, slowburn 160k words basically

everyone knew that they liked eachother except themselves

despite some initial mishaps, the guild has been thriving under her leadership

despite Robotnik’s efforts, their guild halls have remained hidden to him, as well as serving a safe havens for those trying to escape his reign

they work loosely with the Resistance, though Layla leaves it up to the individuals to come forwards and offer aid

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rayofdawnworld · 6 months

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Too Late part 3

Here is part 3 of Too Late a fic that was inspired by this board done by the brilliant @darkficsyouneveraskedfor, please check out her page if you don't already know her and @thezombieprostitute also a brilliant writer that you look in too in case you don't already know her either.

This is a work of Dark Fiction. It WILL contain dark themes. I will post the appropriate tags as they become relevant.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. Don't Like? DON'T READ!

I do not consent to ANY of my works to be posted for profit. I do not consent to ANY of my works to be posted on to third-party sites. I only have ONE AO3 page and I post what I want on it.

MINORS ARE NOT ALLOWED ON MY BLOG! DO NOT INTERACT! MDI

Please tell me your thoughts, this is my first Reader insert so I'm still a bit unsure if I'm doing a good job. I love constructive criticism.

Will tag you if you ask.

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Part One, Part Two

Mr. Beckwourth was a kind soul. You came across him one early morning on your way to the university, six months into your escape, unconscious by the sidewalk. You didn’t know how long he had been there, but he did have a wicked gush on his forehead. Luckily for you and him, the milk lad was passing by on his way to deliveries when he spotted the two of you and recognised the old man instantly. Telling you to wait with him, the young man sprinted in a direction and came back with the man's neighbours, a foreign middle-aged couple. After telling them where you worked and asking them to send any news, you collected yourself and made your way to work.

You received news about him a week later. The poor man was robbed; yes, he was fine; no, he didn't see who did it. After some visits and friendly banter, you became friends and had a standing agreement that every Saturday morning, you would go out to the docks with Mr. Beckwourth to get his supply of fish and then help him sell it in the market.

You were busily accepting an order of salmon and herring when your stomach lurched. Surely you were mistaken.

Ever since you ran away from your previous life, you have lived in fear of a tall figure with broad shoulders finding you and dragging you back to those horrid people you called family. They would kill you if you ever went back home before you came of age, after what became of Darling Anne.

There was no way that a man like Sherlock Holmes would come to the market to buy his food. Unless he was in one of his cases, why would it bring him here? You had no clue; you just hoped that whatever it was didn't bring him to this point.

Oh, yes, you had followed the news discreetly (no point in letting those around you know you were literate.), but diligently. You knew all about him and his service to the crown and its citizens. Best not to test fate. I’ve come too far. Your thought was desperate as you dove below the stall and rubbed some fish guts on your cheek and head. I’ll have to spend some money in one of the washhouses with warm water then. Mrs. Acker will have a fit if I show up soiled again. You rose again with a cheery smile, despite your fear about whether you may or may not have been seen.

You were hyper-aware of yourself leaving the market. Once, twice, three times you could have sworn you were being followed, but when you stopped in front of a shop or pretended to turn in the wrong street, with a piece of paper in your hand to make it believable, you had either come across a vagrant or no one at all. It took you longer than normal to get to the washhouse, but it was worth the coin and your time. You didn't afford yourself many luxuries, but good ointments and oils for your skin, courtesy of the two nurses, who were just old school mates and the young governess who took care of some lonely boys on the other side of London at night, and a weekly wash—a habit picked up by your mother and father's stay in their respective corners of the east—were a must. It was, in part, also why you decided to help Mr. Beckwourth. Not only did you like the old man, it also gave you a reason to visit the washhouses once a week. The ones with warm and hot water were cheaper than the tepid tub that Mrs. Acker managed. Having one last look around, you quickly dogged into the washhouse.

It was closer to evening when you finally made it to the house. Exsusted, not only from the week of labour you had but from walking up and down the streets of London just in case your follower from last night or that nuisance Sherlock Holmes had seen you or at least suspected it was you and tried to follow you back to your residence.

Thanking Mrs. Acker for allowing you to take your supper in your room, you made your way up to what once had been a small attic workshop with a partial glass roof but was now a small room. You didn't mind it. The glass part of the roof had a hatch you could open in the summer, keeping the room cool. After all, who would climb to the roof to steal steel from a humble boarding house? And since the fireplace chimney ran through your room, it kept the winter chill out, despite part of the roof being made of glass. You liked the roof like this. It saved you on candles and gas for the lantern; it provided you with lots of natural light for you to read when you were in your room. And you always did love the sound of the rain.

All in all, it was a quiet place with its share of whimsy. You had fallen in love with it the moment you saw it. Yes, it was a hassle to go down a flight of stairs every time you needed to go to the washroom, but since it was on the smaller side and was in the attic, it did come in cheaper than the other rooms, which suited you nicely. After eating, you settled down for some well-earned rest.

You didn't know that on the other side of London, in an apartment on Baker Street, a tall man with wide shoulders and dark blue eyes seethed in anger.

It had been by sheer coincidence that he found you at the market. Watson had to do some hours at the hospital, and Mary, being heavily pregnant, asked him to help her with her errands at the market. He stood silent as you helped an older man behind the fishmonger's stand. You couldn't help but notice your still-smooth hands. They had thickened with what he deduced was years of hard work, but they were still fine with smooth skin. On the subject of your skin, that too was fine, smooth, and quite clean. It didn't have any of the telltale muck common among the more impoverished folk. He didn't see how you could afford the cost of regular baths in a boarding house, so it could only be through the use of the washhouses that you could keep so clean. It still didn't explain the softness of your skin and healthy glow. Sherlock only had time to quickly turn around before you raised your eyes in his direction. He was going to take advantage of his luck. It seemed that he would move his plans forward by a whole day and a half. Making sure that Mary was alright and excusing himself, he made his way to the first beggar he found near the steps of the market.

He was going to put his homeless network to good use. He would know where you lived by nightfall.

Nightfall provided him with nothing. Despite no less than fifteen of his best in the Homeless Network having followed you discreetly, you still managed to give them the slip, more or less where he had followed you last night. He grabbed the skull on the fire mantle and threw it angrily at the wall. He then shot the wall for good measure.

That sent Mr. Hudson into hysteria, threatening him about calling the Yard. No doubt Watson would have some choice words come Monday morning if previous fits of rage had taught him anything. He growled and threw more things at the wall opposite him.

Pussycat was in for a right spanking when he finally got his hands on her.

Pussycat was in for a whole lot more when he got his hands on her. A lot more.

Sherlock smiled in the darkness, clutching his violin bow in his hands.

#obsessed!sherlock #dark!sherlock holmes #reader insert #smart!reader

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thefandomdirtymind · 10 months

Note

I love your sanji fics so much it’s crazy, I was wondering if you could make an angsty sanji fic!!

A/N IMPORTANT: Hi anon ! Damn this one have make me doubts myself. Angst wasn't my strong suit but I had this idea about those mistake you made when your young and the result push me to ask myself what I would do in those kind of situation and how much a person can grow from his mistake. I also enjoy write more of Zeff, even adding a little Bonus scene. Thank you for your request !

Shout out again for : @alienstardustwrites !

Oregano and others things

Soundtrack : Mine by Kelly Clarkson

OPLA - Sanji

Warning: Angst, Cheating theme, young mistake, redemption

Sanji / OPLA Masterlist and Coming Soon

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.

----

The water was agitated, making your little marchand boat tang a little more than to your liking. Taking a deep breath, watching the floating restaurant in front of you, you know what you have to do. You have to put your feet on that dock, wear the waiter uniform waiting for you, help Zeff with his understaffed problem and come back home. Simple, truly a walk in the park. All that and…avoid Sanji.

You came from a respectable family of fishermen and herborists selling their catch on the local market. Little girl, you were in charge of carrying the ice for the cold table and wrapping the customers' fish. You will always remember the day your parents had started making business with Zeff. The tall man, even sitting at the little table in the back of the stall, was imposing enough to at the same time scare you and make you curious. But, the little blond boy, only a few years older than you, following him like his shadow, intrigues you even more.

As you grow up, gaining new responsibility in the shop, you soon regularly help your dad doing the delivery to the Barratie, having the chance to pass some time with Sanji. Their pretext being that you would both benefit from having somebody your own age around, even if it’s for a few hours when it was in reality, for them, a moment to share a drink and talk supplies. The young cook would usually profit from this occasion to make you taste his cooking and ask you many questions about your knowledge on fish.

Adolescent, you had at many occasions,succeeded to sneak out of the not so watching eyes of the adult to respond to some question like only puberty could ask. Partner in crime for many first in your life, it was now hurting you like a knife in the wound to see him, an hour, a minute, a second.

Pushing the side door of the restaurant, many fabulous smells filling your nose, you quickly make your way to the changing room. Place which had welcomed many child games like Hide and Seeks and other less childish things like : what’s hiding under those clothes.

It wasn't the first time that you were serving tables for the Baratie. Your loyalty was, of course, going to your family,putting them first. But often, in occasional need like this, you had accepted to cover some shift to help. However, it's been a few years since you came back here for more than an exchange of ingredients and money. But, like riding a bike, you could remember the important stuff and Zeff had assured your dad that nothing had changed. You wish you could have liked to say the same.

Freshly changed, taking a nervous deep breath but confident, you exited the room, not noticing the tall blond getting out of the kitchen, angrily putting back his suit jacket.

Sanji couldn’t believe it, it was the second time this week that Zeff was rejecting one of his creative plates, sending him to play the waiter. Didn’t the old man see that his mediocre menu was killing him, and making him serve tables was the ultimate insult. He was, after all, the best cook of all this shitty restaurant.

A vision pushes him, half-way in a move to pick a fresh tray of rolled bread, to stop ruminating his dark cloud to instead freeze in place.

A little writing pad in hand, you hair styled into a practical but elegant way, your old uniforme clinging to your curve, you were standing in front of a table of happy imbeciles ( ready to all order medium well prime ribs for sure he presume) who’s was devouring you with their eyes. But the worst, for Sanji, was your smile, a generic one but a rare sign he hadn’t had the joy to see for way too long.

Seeing you like that, moving like a fish in the water around the tables, was bringing back the best and the worst moment of his life all at once,twisting his guts. And he knew exactly who to blame for that.

Turning on his heels, returning in the busy kitchen, his footstep quick and stiff, he easily spotted his mentor.

“ Zeff, why the hell is she here ?” Sanji asked, not feeling the need to clarify who ‘she’ could be. The old pirate already knew, of course, only him could have made her come to help as a waiter.

“ We’re under staff, little eggplant, she knows the job. Deal with it.” Zeff replied, his focus on inspection of the plates ready to go.

“ Really, even after you know our history ? Let me bring back your ex here and tell you the same. Would you deal with it ? “

“ Ex and History” The old man crackle” Is that what you call your little pathetic teenage adventure ? Anyway,you’re welcome to try to bring my Ex here, but I encourage you to prepare yourself to freeze your arse off. The bottom of the sea is pretty cold, just like that fucking witch. “

“ We don’t need her. We can absolutely run the restaurant like we have always do “

“ Sure we can,little eggplant, but we run way better now that she is with us. Anyway for what you did to the poor girl you deserve to feel some guilt. Now stop whining and get out of my kitchen ! “ The chef cut the discussion crossing his arms, his expression dissuading any replies.

His lips pressed in a thigh line, facing his second defeat of the day against the old man, Sanji makes his way to the double door, before stopping at only a few each of the exit, his breath stuck in his throat.

Entering the overheated place, ready to ask for the order of your customers, you briefly meet his gaze, momentarily losing your smile, regaining it as you face Zeff.

“ Four prime ribs…” You begin to say.

“ Let me guess, medium well ?” Sanji sarcastically said from the doors.

“Medium well for table five “ You still finished trying to ignore his chuckles or the caress of his gaze on you after so long.

“ Ignore him, little peach. Four prime rib mediums-well for table five !” Zeff advises you, before shouting the order.

“ I do my best uncle…Chef “ You smile, remembering your kitchen manners.

“ This table seems like a bunch of idiots, let me serve them for you “ The blond offered, his voice softened.

“ I can handle them myself, thank you “ You coldly replied,leaving him behind, trying to regain control of your emotions. Even after all those years, your traitorous heart was responding to his presence.

Making a stop at a few of your tables, seeing on the side Sanji do the same on his own. You gave table five their drink. It was obvious that those four weren't the best sailor sailing on the east blue. It was in fact, almost a miracle that people around them hadn’t complained since they were one of the most noisy tables around. But, you didn’t need his help, you will follow the plan even if the avoid part was now near impossible.

“ two old fashioned, a whisky net, a beer and a long Island “ You enumerate, placing the drink in front of the right person, putting the last one in the middle. “ You’re order is place in the kitchen I will come back soon to give you your food”

“ Wait pretty ! “The taller one exclaimed, pushing gently the long island in front of you “ This one's for you “

“ I’m sorry, I can’t accept it or drink on the job.” You declined,plastering a polite smile on your lips.

“ Oh come on pretty, only a sip, we will not tell ! “ Another with greasy hair laughs.

“ No thank you, Gentleman, I will come back with your order soon “ You firmly answer suddenly feeling the hand of the tall one grab you arm.

“ It’s not polite, we had brought you something, you could at least drink a little of it with us.”

Opening your mouth to put them back at their place, you hear Sanji behind you, his voice cold as ice.

“ First of all, a gentleman should never force a lady or touch her without consent “ The blond tells, removing finger by finger the hand of the man on your arm. “ Second, the lady say no, drink yourself your poisonous gift and let her work in peace.”

“ Sanji, it’s okay, those gentlemen were about to lower their tone and let me go” You explain embarrassedly, looking around to see many side eyes enjoying the drama. Pirates, as well as most of people,were always fond of dramas.

“ Calm down, we are only trying to know her better “ The third protest, throwing to your Ex a dark gaze.

“ Trying to know her,while she is stuck at serving you and already told you no.”

“ Sanji…” You tried.

“ It isn’t a way to treat a lady forcing her to endure your deplorable attempt. Just face it, she’s too good for all of you” Sanji finished.

“ Oh, that’s it, you want her for you lover boy “ The taller laugh” Sorry to say it to you but at the gaze she give you, you seem to have less chance that’s us”

“ Oh no, not at all. I already have the pleasure to kiss her sweet lips, even if she annoy by me, I could never be lower than you.” The blond smirked.

“ That’s enough ! Gentlemen, I came back with your plate. Please lower your tone, you disturb the dining room and you,come with me !” You said,taking Sanji's hand, forcing his taller stature than yours to follow you in one of the storage rooms.

The room, lit by a solitary lightbulb, was one you didn’t come to really often, only once in fact and it was that fatidical day. Surrounded by the many shelfs full of goods, you take three deep breaths before facing the only one you wanted to not face today.

“This was ridiculous” You abruptly said“ Everything was under control and they didn’t have to know our past history.”

“ Under control ? “ Sanji laughed,closing his eyes before tilting his head. “ Ma chérie, he gripped your arm. I know you hate that I was right about those idiot but I truly had help you there”

“ I’m not your chérie, not anymore” You remind him, the old wound reopening slowly.

You could perfectly remember that day. You turned seventeen in two days and, as your birthday was approaching, your dad had promised you that you would be the one doing the delivery alone to the Baratie for now on. Excited about the news, you had sailed to tell Sanji the good news. But, as you had searched the kitchen, the dinner room and even climbed to his room, you couldn’t find him. It’s only when a cook told you he had seen him near the storage that you regain hope. However, as you were approaching the room, you didn’t have the force to go further.

His hands, who had so gently touched you, were locked around another girl's waist, his lips you loved so much pressed against hers. Only his gaze, enlarged in shock, was fixed on you. Tears were rolling on your cheeks without you even noticing that you were crying. The only thing you noticed was a piercing pain in your chest and your body reacting by himself, stepping away as Sanji was trying to reach you, calling your name, telling you that he was sorry.

You hadn’t answered, running as fast as you can. This year, you didn’t make the delivery at the Baratie. It was only when your father felt sick that you finally take your place in the delivery bargain, only dealing with Zeff and no one else.

“ You had broken my heart, Sanji, remember ? “ You painfully said, angry about yourself to hear a point of sadness in your voice.

“ Y/N I was young…” He sighs, guilt painting his trait.

But, as you were trying to calm your heart,years of anger filling your veins.

“ You were young…that's your excuse ?!” You spit, your hand turning into fist. “ After all those years, I was waiting for an explanation who’s never come, crying every night. I finally thought I was able to get over it but it was it...you were young ?…I was too ! “

“ I know I am the one at fault here but you weren't the only one to suffer” Sanji muttered, his gaze darken, refusing to meet yours “ I didn’t know why I did it, and would you have accepted to see me, talk to me ? Your father was looking at me like he wanted to gutter me like his fish and Zeff wasn’t better, kicking me everytime he heard you were crying, whether it was my fault or not ! “

“And for today ? If it should have one who doesn't want to see the other it should be me. So what’s your problem !?” You abruptly asked.

“ My problems…My problems is that I hate having to fight everyday with Zeff about his shitty menu and I hate he put fucking oregano everywhere ! I hate that he has asked you to help knowing how it will make me feel, I hate how sexy you look in that uniform and the way that throws me back. I hate those guys who hit on you without knowing how a fucking brat you can be. “

Sanji answered, passing angrily his hand on his hair,planting his gaze in yours.

“But I hate even more that I was scared of my feelings back then ! I was a coward okay, you were amazing I freak out ! I used to think about how to impress Zeff every day and night, new recipes or new knowledge to become the best chef but the only thing I was about to think about was you. If you would come with your dad the next day, would you enjoy my Risotto or hate it? Should I make you something sweet ? Did you enjoy our kisses as much as me? How can your skin be so soft under my hands or did my hand feel too rough? Did you think of me as much as I did of you? I was falling in love so fast with you but I knew I didn’t deserve you.”

Letting a sigh escape his lips as his voice takes a more annoyed or that is an embarrassed tone as he continues his confession. You couldn’t turn your gaze of his, mute by his raw feeling finally exposed.

“Yet, the worst of all is that I hate the fact that I still do it after all those years. Every night I ask myself if you will be the one doing the delivery tomorrow, will I be able to have a glance of you or will you finally meet my gaze, will you stay mute like everytime or finally say hello and forgive me, that’s is my problems Y/N”

You didn’t know at first what to say, anger having left his place to sadness. As you were standing both still. You could clearly tell by some details in his features and physics how much he had grown since the last time you had stood like that face to face. But being scared wasn’t a reason, neither erased his act or the pain you had endured. Worst, how could you trust him after all this.

“ Well, at least after all this time, I have answers. Yes, I think about you everyday. But it also hurts me everyday,how could I trust you, I don’t know you anymore. The last time I was here we were young and you made the choice to hurt me. It’s too late for us,maybe we could try again someday, in another life. “

Leaving him behind, heading back to the restaurant level, trying to catch the tears from falling out of your eyes, you distantly heard Zeff asking you if everything was okay. Nodding of the head, putting back a smile on your lips, you take your orders and come back to the dining area.

As the sun was pursuing its course, coloring the sky with a vibrant shade of orange, pink and purple. You gave a hug to Zeff, his smell, a mix of leather, sea salt and spice recomforting you.

“ Thank you for your help Little Peach. I know it wasn’t easy with…all this…but you truly help us today “ He tells, freeing you of his bear hug.

“ I was glad to be able to help Uncle Zeff”

Lifting his gaze to the restaurant, the old man seems to shortly struggle to find his words, playing nonchalantly with one of his braids.

“ Sanji isn’t a bad kid, a brat who made some terrible mistake, yes, but I think he really regretted what he had done. I made him regret it too for your sake of course, little Peach…But I saw how his mistake had made him grow. Sometimes you have to lose a treasure you thought was already yours to realize how important it was for you. “

“ I know Zeff “ You smiled, letting so many things go unsaid,trying not to cry again. After all, how do you explain to the old man that feeling of not knowing that man in a suit when you had only known him with a cook uniform or unable to knot a necktie.Or knowing perfectly why his loyalty to the pirate chef will forever prevent him from leaving the restaurant.“ Same hour tomorrow ? “

“ Like always” The old chef smiles, helping you step in your small boat, watching you leave his dock. “ Keep your feet dry “

—

A week later.

The fresh air of the morning was filling your lungs. On the water, the fishing boat was immobile, painting a peaceful image succeeding alway to put you at ease.

As you were preparing the stall, for your opening of the day, careful adjusting the spice jars on their little shelfs, waiting for the fisherman to bring your fresh fish, you heard a small cough.

“ So it was you who sold all that oregano to the old man, “ Sanji's voice gently said, as if he was trying to not scare you away.

Standing at only a few steps of you, a duffel bag on his shoulder, his suit and tie impeccable in the sleepy dock market, you take a full minute to process his presence.

“ You had left The Baratie…” You shockingly said, more a realization of a thing you thought would never happen than a question. “ I mean, what are you doing here ?” You finally asked, still unsure if it wasn’t a trick of your brain. Young Sanji would never leave the restaurant or miss an opportunity to learn kitchen tricks, other than for necessary utility.

“ Yes, Zeff had sent me as a return of favor for the help you gave us and I didn’t protest” He replied, taking a few precautionary steps, the idea that you still could decide to attack him by throwing one of the jars at his face, not far in his brain. “His precise words were to work my ass off or be ready to have my butt kicked. Look, I know that I mess up everything and I will regret it all my life. But I’m well intended to work right today and prove to you that we can maybe have a…fresh start ? “

“ A fresh start “ You repeat, considering the idea. Even if nothing could change the past, you had, in the last week, known that climbing to it now that you had your answers wouldn’t help you in any aspect of your life. And, now that miracle seems to happen, it was maybe all you need. “ You will not say to the clients that oregano is for savages, is that clear ? “

“ Even if it’s the truth ? “ He asked, an amused smile playing on his lips. “ We will have to review the quantity you send to the restaurant it’s way too high “

“ You really have a problem with it are you “ You let yourself joke.

"Hadn’t hated another herbs as much as this one, “ Sanji replied, putting aside his bag.

“ Maybe your taste is just too fancy” You laugh, feeling your heart seem to regain its pace for the first time in a long time.

“ Maybe that’s why your lips always look to me like a one of a kind delicacy “ Sanji flirted.

“ Sanji, fresh start !” You laugh, returning to your opening preparation. “ Just for that you will refill the oregano jar ! “

“ Yes Madam “ The blond cook responded, a smile on his lips, a spark you thought long gone freshly back in his eyes. “ Fresh start “

—-

Bonus :

His old back against one of the piles supporting the platform surrounding the restaurant, his wooden leg removed, Zeff was smiling.

“ They aren’t bad kids, mistakes have been made, kicks have been given. But it’s the good things in life. Errors make you grow and paths who’s we thought never crossed come back. Often it doesn't work, but I hope for them it will.”

“ I hope Zeff, you have grown too, you had more lines in your face than the last time” The timeless woman said, his head resting on his crossed arms, the lower half of his body undulating in the dark water.

“ It’s not everybody who’s an immortal sea witch, “ Zeff replied.

“ I had offered you to share my ageless life, you had decline it “ She remind him.

“ The little eggplant needed me, he was only a child. But I never thought you would forget us on that rock. “ He argued, still bitter of the memory.

“ Time is an abstract notion for us, but you survive, don't you ? “ The sea witch smiles, having the decency to look embarrassed of his own mistake.

“ Will you forget me when I die” Zeff asked.

“ Probably, but the water will remind me of Red boots Zeff and his sacrifice to save a little human.” She simply said, returning into the deep of the sea.

Turning his gaze to the stars, Zeff smiled.

---

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custardcrazy · 1 year

Note

Hi there! Idk if you're taking requests but here's one for now:

Ted Logan x reader

Reader works at a music shop (they bond over a love for music or a specific band). Reader doesnt play the guitar. They ask Ted for some pointers and hes all flustered trying to teach her.

you're so wild (and wonderful)

summary: It's not every day that a cute near-stranger offers to teach you guitar. (gn!reader)

wordcount: 5.2k

A/N: uhhh little to no beta so again. correct me if i terrifically fucked up some grammar thing or spelling and i'll be SO SO grateful

tagged: @kurt-nightcrawler

You'd worked at the mom-and-pop record store long enough to get a good feel for the place.

It wasn't small, but it also wasn't big and shiny like other popular outlets; tucked into a street corner in downtown San Dimas, it wasn't exactly noticeable if you didn't know where to look. Because of that, you mostly encountered the same people -- the lady always wearing cable-knit sweaters, the teenage punk with a pretty gnarly mohawk, and last but not least the middle-aged guy who came in every so often to check if you had any new Beatles records.

(You usually didn't, but it was nice to hear him talk about how his various fishing trips went instead.)

Sometimes, someone new wandered in now and then, drawn in by the faded sign and various music posters plastered around or on the door. Of course, not all stayed; some just found what they were looking for and left, others got overwhelmed and did the same. It didn't really matter, because most of what you did anyway was sit behind the counter and wait.

But it wasn't unpleasant in the slightest. The hours were excellent, the pay was good, and you got a discount if you wanted to buy a record for yourself. All in all, it was totally worth the occasional music snob who ranted to you about the newer generation "ruining music" or whatever. You didn't get paid to listen to that.

Today wasn't too different from any other -- you checked all the deliveries, made sure everything was in order, and double-checked the new arrivals. Then, you found your familiar post by the register, pulling up the familiar battered stool. It did nothing for your poor back, but it was better than standing for sure.

Your coworker, Alice, arrived a couple minutes after you. She was slight in build with more than a few piercings, always sporting an oversized band tee. You were generally friendly to each other, but since she usually killed time by looking through all the various records and other things on sale, or just straight-up vanished into the back; you didn't get many opportunities to speak to her. Which kind of sucked, because she was ridiculously funny. In a sort-of sarcastic, biting way.

An hour went by with nothing out of the ordinary. A couple of teenagers came in, and you watched somewhat amusedly as they attempted to pool their money to buy a Pixies record.

Unfortunately, they had to leave empty-handed.

You were staring at the wall when the tinny chime of the bell announced a new customer.

Abruptly, your attention snapped up, and you got a good look at the new arrivals.

One was around average height, with blonde curls in what looked to be a halfway-mullet and downturned eyes that made him look permanently sleepy. He looked around the store with unconcealed reverence, and it was a little funny -- but you respected it all the same. But it wasn't him that really drew your attention.

It was the other guy he came in with.

Tall, dark-haired, rather easy on the eyes and dare you say handsome, he carried himself with an easy, loping gait that immediately stuck out to you. It wasn't often you found someone attractive quite like this, and even rarer that you had to pause what you were doing to look. (Even though the fact remained that in this case you were doing pretty much nothing, it still counted.)

It took all of your effort to remain seated and wait for him -- well, them, to approach.

Thankfully, it didn't take too long. After maybe a minute or two, the newcomers looked at each other. For whatever reason, you waited with extreme anticipation.

Then they grinned. "Excellent."

You were a bit taken aback at the way they said it in perfect unison, but didn't get the chance to dwell on it; they were heading towards you, and you had to put on your customer-ready smile.

Though it didn't escape your notice that it came easier than usual.

"Hey," you said, hoping you didn't sound strained, "can I help you with anything?"

"Hi," replied Blond Guy. "Yeah, me and my esteemed colleague here would like to know if that two-for-one sign that is looking most ragged still applies." He gestured to the back, where all the various memorabilia and tee shirts were -- stuff that usually wasn't popular amongst customers, and were mostly things that the owners found in the depths of their attic. His "colleague" nodded in agreement, hair flopping around a little.

You mirrored the nod, but with less shoulder movement. "Yeah, it goes for basically anything, since everything over there is under ten bucks." Pausing briefly, you added, "unless you try to get a tee shirt for the price of a guitar pick. Then, no."

That earned another nod from Tall Guy. "OK, that makes sense. Thanks, dude."

He grinned, and his smile was bright enough to rival the sun; you were momentarily blinded, but were able to smile back. "No problem. Just ask me if you need anything else."

When the two boys turned away to inspect the goods, you heaved an internal sigh of relief.

And for once, it wasn't because the customers were being annoying.

You put in the bare minimum in pretending to not be staring; only glancing for a split second at the pages of your battered magazine that served as time-killing material before looking back up. But, seriously, even if you were doing a poor job, neither of the guys seemed to notice. They were pretty engrossed in examining a couple Garfield mugs.

After that, they actually moved on to the records -- lingering near Hendrix but not dwelling long on Herb Albert, and then making their way through the racks from there. It was a personal hobby of yours to guess what a customer would buy from their appearance and demeanor alone. But you'd been too … preoccupied to think of it, and you assumed it'd be considered cheating to take a stab at it now.

Eventually, they returned to your counter, and you looked up at their approach. As if you hadn't been watching intently out of your peripherals.

A single record was set in front of you, and you put down your magazine.

"Just this one?" Peering down at it, you quickly recognized the album cover: More Songs About Buildings and Food, by Talking Heads. "Oh, good choice."

"You really think so?" Asked the taller boy, and it was a little overwhelming with how much he was focused on you. It didn't seem like he was doing it on purpose, though. "I liked '77 a lot, but I'm not sure if David Byrne's delivery'll go well in this album. His voice is pretty distinctive, dude."

"Trust me," you grinned, "it's good. You won't regret giving it a listen."

Flipping the record over to peer briefly at the back, you put it back down. "That'll be $6.95."

It took a bit of frantic searching on their part, but eventually, you slid a couple crumpled bills into the register and gave them back a nickel in change.

For a moment, your hand just hovered awkwardly in the air, the coin in your palm. The boys exchanged glances, as if daring the other to take it. But, finally, the shorter of the two grabbed it, shoving it into the pocket of his jeans.

"What're you gonna use that for? A Tootsie Roll?" Grinning, the dark-haired guy looked proud of his joke.

You didn't miss how he glanced over at you, to check your reaction; completely unphased by how his friend shot him a near-murderous look.

"Shut up, Ted, you wanted it too!"

Unfortunately, you didn't catch the blonde's name, as they were already walking away from you, record in tow. The small bell chimed once more. For a moment, you just looked at the door, the store feeling empty again.

At least you had a name to attach to his face.

… But it was kind of embarrassing, how you didn't even think of asking him. Maybe you wouldn't even see him again.

Sighing, you picked back up your extremely entertaining reading material, attempting to bury your shame with a poorly-written article about a celebrity's affair.

The rest of the day was pretty boring, to say the least. Only a couple more customers came in, but at least you made a decent amount of sales. Alice emerged from the back a couple times to put a couple ancient-looking movie posters on the walls -- you recognized Barbarella and Yellow Submarine.

"Don't get run over," was Alice's way of saying goodbye to you, as you grabbed your stuff and headed home just after six.

You stayed up a bit later than usual, but it didn't matter, since you had to be at the record store at around eleven or so. And it wasn't like you got lunch rushes or anything that you absolutely had to be there to handle.

To be honest, it was barely annoying when that Ted kept popping into your mind; nobody could blame you, after all. It was rare that anybody you encountered at work was someone who legitimately had the power to capture your attention. So you entertained the feeling, right up until you arrived back at work the next day.

Sitting down at the counter with a purpose after doing the usual routine, you rummaged around for another crappy magazine. Now you were going to be professional and level-headed.

And that was what you did for an hour or so. Professional stuff, like helping out a confused-looking older woman find an Elvis record, or shooing away a group of what looked to be ten-to-eleven-year-olds who tried in vain to barter for the junk that was already considerably cheaper than everything else in the store.

Everything was going well.

Until, of course, the bell dinged again, and you just had to look up on instinct.

They were back.

This time, the shorter guy was wearing a backwards cap (bright red) with his blonde curls poking out the front. You appreciated that for a moment, and then, of course, your gaze slid over to him. Worn-out Megadeth shirt and all.

To your mild surprise, he met your gaze almost instantaneously. And then he was jogging -- well, practically bounding over.

"Dude!" He exclaimed, once he was directly in front of you. "You were so right. That album was truly heart-stirring."

It took you a moment to recall which album he was talking about. When you did, though, you didn't hesitate to return his once-again blinding smile. "Yeah, told you so. You should totally listen to more Talking Heads, if you liked the album that much." Unlike last time, Ted's friend was hanging back, but you were curious anyway, and gestured in the blonde's direction. "Did he listen to it, too?"

"Oh, Bill?" Nodding vigorously, Ted's grin didn't fade. "Yeah, he thought it was pretty good. But he didn't like it as much as I did."

"At least he still liked it." You shrugged. "I mean, you were the one who bought it, right?"

Ted glanced off to the side. "Well, I was the one who decided to buy it." He ducked his head a little. "Uh, we pooled our money, though."

"Oh, okay."

There was a bit of an awkward silence, before you spoke up again. "... Is there anything specific you're looking for today?"

"Oh!" At that, Ted perked up. "Yeah, actually. I was gonna ask if there were any other Talking Heads albums here, besides, y'know, the ones I've already listened to." Quickly, he added, "uh, and by that I mean '77 and More Songs About Buildings and Food."

"Sure, I remember." You put down your reading material, before getting off the stool and coming out from behind the counter. "Let's take a look."

He followed behind you as you made your way to the T shelf, and stood next to you as you thumbed through the records.

(If you concentrated just hard enough, you could feel how he was only inches away.)

It didn't take long to find what you were looking for, thankfully. Feeling victorious, you pulled out Remain in Light. And right behind that was Fear of Music. It kind of sucked that Speaking in Tongues wasn't nearby, but if you got lucky, maybe you could find it in the countless decaying cardboard boxes in the back.

"There," you announced, "here. This is good stuff, I think." You showed the album to Ted, and he leaned a little closer in order to get a better look.

"It might be kind of a weird listen for some people, but it's good in my opinion. Some of the songs are kind of similar to hip-hop, and they even use elements of African music -- it's pretty cool." When you offered it to him, he took it; he handled it as if it was a delicate piece of treasure, flipping it over to read over the song titles.

"Rad," he said, after a few moments of deep concentration. "Thanks."

"No problem."

You found yourself smiling along with him. "Need anything else?"

"I think I'm okay for now." His shoulders bobbed when he nodded, you noticed. "I'm gonna look at the other albums over here for a sec, I think."

"Sounds good. I'll be over there if you need me."

After you turned your back to walk back to the counter, you didn't catch how he looked up -- before glancing back at the records. Once you were seated once again, the only thing you saw was how engrossed Ted was in finding what he was after. Or maybe he was just examining the album art; who knew for certain?

It was a little while later when Bill traipsed over to Ted, and they quietly conferred. Their very hushed discussion ended pretty fast, and before you knew it, they were in front of you, and the album you'd shown Ted was placed in front of you.

"Just this one?" You wondered if they were going to keep buying singular records. "Same as yesterday. $6.95, please."

Again, it took a bit for the money to be collected from their pockets, but again, there was a nickel left in change.

You didn't miss how Ted gave Bill a smug look as he reached over to take the coin from you.

Ted's fingertips were callused as your hands brushed, and

chocolate brown eyes met yours, and

"Do you play an instrument?" You blurted, and then winced. "Sorry, that was -- "

" -- Actually, yeah!"

But before you could apologize, Ted cut you off. If he was thrown off-guard by your oddly-placed question, he didn't show it; if anything, he actually looked happy that you'd asked.

"I play guitar!" Proudly, he continued, "so does Bill! Which is great, because we can learn all the tough songs together." The previous brief animosity over the nickel completely disappeared as they exchanged glowing looks. "It is most productive."

"Oh." Briefly, you were still caught between guilt and embarrassment, but you recovered quickly. "Oh! That's neat, actually. Guitar's a cool instrument."

Bill seemed to take your praise in stride, but Ted -- he suddenly avoided eye contact. You carried on, though. "I've kind of always wanted to learn, but I've never really committed." Giggling semi-awkwardly, you shrugged. "Oh well, I guess. Maybe someday, right? Actually buying a guitar might be kinda hard, though. I've fooled around on a couple, but never owned one."

"That is totally understandable," nodded Bill solemnly, "it does take a decent amount of cash and time to be able to learn any instrument."

"Exactly," you agreed. Smiling, you nodded slightly in return. "Have a nice day, guys."

Suddenly, Ted's attention was back on you with an intensity. You looked at him -- did he have a question about the album? -- but no, he was practically radiating nervous energy, almost looking like a deer caught in headlights. You watched as his Adam's apple bobbed; he seemed to be steeling himself.

Before you could ask if he was okay, though --

"I could -- " he cleared his throat, "I could, uh, teach you a bit of guitar. If you wanna."

What?

"What?" You and Bill said, at the same time.

"I mean, I'm not, like, prodigy material, but… " Ted's face was gradually appearing pinker by the second. "I know some stuff, at least."

Ignoring Bill's extremely concerning look directed at his friend, you genuinely considered his offer.

This was actually a prime-time opportunity.

It wasn't every day that cute boys just fell out of the sky (well, walked through the door of the record store) and offered to give you free guitar lessons. Sure, it was true that you barely knew him -- but if you said no, would you even get the chance to get to know him? Probably not. You couldn't tell if he was the type of guy to back off if you said no to something like this; and that was a little scary.

He was shuffling a little, and looked pretty nervous by the time you came to a conclusion.

"Yeah," you affirmed.

"That'd be nice."

If anything, Bill looked more surprised than Ted; who, after a moment or two, seemingly remembered his ability to speak.

"Wait, really?" Ted's face displayed open shock, before fading beautifully into joy.

"Killer, dude."

Turns out the bookmark you'd been using also worked pretty well as a means for Ted to scribble down his (and Bill's, apparently) address. His handwriting was a couple steps up from basically illegible, but considering that you'd noticed his hand shaking, you'd take what you could get. You had a sneaking suspicion that, even on a good day, writing wasn't his strong suit.

The apartment building wasn't too far from your own home, thankfully.

You were only a bit nervous when standing in front of the door. Waiting for either Bill or Ted to answer it.

It turned out to be the latter, who looked partially disheveled as he opened the door for you, stepping aside.

"Sorry. It's a bit of a mess, dude," he said, sounding sheepish, "uh, but trust me, it's usually way worse."

Stepping inside, you looked around -- it wasn't the worst place you'd seen, to be honest, and it had a sense of familiarity radiating from all the stickers stuck on basically every surface, and posters, pictures, and other memorabilia everywhere. Most of the posters were of bands you recognized.

"It's fine," you replied, as he shut the door behind you. "Is Bill home?"

"No, he went out," came Ted's answer. "Dunno where, though. He just gave me a sorta squinty look and left."

"Oh."

An awkward beat, before Ted picked up the thread of conversation; thin as it was.

"C'mon, you can sit down on the couch or wherever. I'll go get the guitars." He smiled at you. "There's probably, like, cereal in the kitchen if you want something." And with that, he practically bolted into the next room.

Doing as he said, you made a place for yourself on the green couch, trying not to knock off any of the pillow and whatnot piled onto the surface. Not that you thought Ted would mind or anything, judging by the semi-cluttered state of the apartment -- but you didn't want to be a rude houseguest, especially during the first time he'd invited you over.

Ted returned pretty quickly, though, carrying two guitars. One was beige, the other black and red.

"You can take Bill's," he said, offering the latter guitar to you. "He won't mind, I think. Unless you break it or something."

"That's not … really comforting." Taking the guitar, you placed it in your lap. "Now I'm nervous."

"Oh. Sorry, dude." He sat down next to you, his own instrument placed on his leg in a position that looked much more comfortable. "I mean, if you did break it, it'd be most calamitous." Seeing your expression, he rushed to add, "but I trust you not to! Since you work in a record store and all."

"That's a good point." Looking at him, you hoped you didn't appear too lost, and you adjusted the way you held your guitar to mimic him.

"So, uh." Ted didn't seem to notice. "You wanna learn a couple basic chords? It's gonna be a bit weird at first, but you'll get used to it pretty quick."

"Alright."

"Stellar." Rolling his shoulders, he grinned. "Here's an A major chord." He demonstrated the finger position, and then strummed his guitar -- it looked easy enough, but still took a couple tries for you to put your hand in the right spot for it to sound right. Eventually, though, you got it, and Ted beamed.

"That's it. Probably the easiest chord. Wanna move on?"

"Sure," you said, "how long will it take to get used to the strings? They're a little tough to keep down."

"Don't press too hard, it'll kill the quality." Ted adjusted himself in his seat, but didn't take his eyes off you. "If you play regularly, you'll get calluses in no time. Don't worry."

"I hope so." You unconsciously mirrored his movement, but weren't able to hold eye contact for as long as him, and dropped your gaze to the guitar in your hands. There were a couple small scratches here and there, which was comforting; because if it could survive a few dings and scrapes, it could survive your amateurish playing.

"I know so, dude." Ted was completely relaxed. " 'Kay, moving on -- C major chord, right? Also pretty easy." He repositioned his fingers, and strummed once more.

Again, after some trial and error, and maybe a little help, you caught on. Ted looked pleased. "See, you got it! You're learning way quicker than I did."

You weren't sure if it was empty praise or not, but judging from how blunt he'd been so far, you doubted it. And it wasn't like you weren't going to take the compliment -- not with how it brought a supremely light feeling into your chest.

Ted had you practice going between the chords a couple times, to get used to switching finger positions. It was awkward, to say the least, but not outright difficult or challenging. You supposed that, with enough practice, it'd get way less fiddly.

"What's next?" You asked, after that. "More chords?"

"You got it!" He'd been demonstrating how to switch positions efficiently, and you tried not to focus on how his fingers easily reached across the fretboard with little to no effort. "Next, we've got the G major chord. Three fingers again."

It was the same process as before, you thought. However, this time, you just couldn't get it right; his fingers and hand were positioned in a way that made it difficult to tell which frets he was pressing. A little frustrated, you tried for the fifth time, and yet. No dice.

Ted didn't seem too bothered, but he sounded empathetic when he spoke up. "Oh. Lemme help, dude."

If you were expecting anything in particular, it probably wouldn't have been him reaching over to move your ring finger onto the correct fret, and then nudge your index finger over a little.

Your heart did a traitorous little skip.

His hands were warm.

"... There." Even he looked bashful as he pulled back. "Uh. That should be good now."

It took you a moment to breathe a "thanks."

Wonderfully, and finally, you got it right. The chord was a little shaky, but you reveled in your triumph.

There was something thick in the air,

but it quickly dissipated as Ted cracked another smile. "See? You got it!"

"Yeah," was all you could muster.

"Let's go between those three for now," he said, mercifully not picking up on your current state of mind. "I think that's a good spot to kinda review, right?" Flicking back his head to get his bangs out of his face, he continued. "I'm not going too fast, right? I'm not, like, a professional music teacher or anything, so…"

At last, you recovered your ability to find words. "No, you're fine. The chords aren't too hard to remember, anyway."

"Right," agreed Ted, "then, can you play the A major one again?"

That was easy enough. You got C major right rather quickly too, much to Ted's delight. And you even remembered how to shift between the two positions in a way that didn't result in uncomfortable finger-twisting. Your fingertips were steadily growing sorer, indented by the strings, but you tried not to focus on it; you'd get used to that later.

However, when you got back to the G major chord… You tried once. Nope. Once more? Couldn't get it.

Third time could be the charm.

No dice. Your guitar emitted a sound similar to that of a severely out-of-tune violin.

"That one trip you up again, dude?" Ted frowned, but it wasn't in a disappointed way at all. More like the sympathy from earlier -- and he sounded a bit guilty, but you didn't know why.

"I swear it's not on purpose," you grumbled, "sorry."

" 'S fine, really." His frown melted into that same easy smile. "I get it. Imagine how long it took for me to get that one right. I didn't have a teacher at all."

Your mind abruptly conjured up an image of Ted, just as frustrated as you were, sitting on the same couch. Struggling to learn the chords you'd gotten in mere minutes. Maybe Bill and him struggled together, when they were both unfamiliar with guitars. Like you were now.

It was kind of a funny image. You were wondering if it was rude to think so; it probably was, right?

But your train of thought was quickly interrupted.

As Ted moved over.

Closer than the last time.

"I have a trick that helped when I first learned the G chord," he began, "uh, you just gotta remember that your middle and ring finger are on the same row, right? And the pointer is just up there." He made a couple hand gestures that didn't really help with the explanation. You understood what he meant, however…

"Where's the pointer finger supposed to go, again?" You asked, a little embarrassed that you'd already forgotten the correct hand position.

Ted opened his mouth to say something. His brow furrowed as he hesitated, before apparently giving up on trying to detail it with words. Gingerly, he placed his own guitar the side.

"Just -- here. Hang on."

Your heart swooped as he reached out again, and --

he was so gentle in how he guided your hand to the correct spot, before carefully nudging your fingertips onto the frets, pressing them ever so slightly onto them.

It took him a moment to speak, and when he did, he hadn't removed his hand from on top of yours yet. He was turned entirely to face you, having been so focused on his task of helping you that he hadn't noticed -- until now.

"Uh," he said, before clearing his throat. "So, see? Middle and ring on the same row, like I said."

His voice was quieter. "And … pointer to the side. There."

You risked a glance up at his face.

It was a brilliant pink.

But he still hadn't moved away.

Every single nerve in your body felt like they were migrating to where your skin met his.

"... There?"

You echoed.

Ted finally seemed to snap back to reality -- pulling his hand back, nearly scrambling backwards on the couch, almost bumping his guitar off it in the process, with how he bounced back on the cushions in his rush to get out of your personal space.

"Yeah!" He blurted as he did so. Face scarlet. Hand flying up to scratch at the back of his neck.

"That -- that should be good."

And now he was avoiding eye contact.

"Okay," you replied eloquently, mentally kicking yourself afterward.

You had to admit, there was a little bit of suspense before you finally strummed your guitar.

And as if from the heavens above, the correct notes finally rang out, just as Ted had demonstrated earlier.

"There!" You declared, and couldn't help your sigh of relief. "I think I'll remember it next time."

It took Ted a second to respond, but when he did, he'd recovered, and was grinning; even if he was still a little pink.

"... See!" He dropped his hand back to his lap to join the other. "The same goes for other tough stuff in music. If you're having trouble, just try to find a pattern." Sagely, he nodded. "Even if it takes you a while to find the pattern, it'll be most gratifying in the end. Makes it way easier to remember stuff."

"Yeah, thanks." You loosened your grip on your guitar. "Actually, that helps a lot. Should we go back to reviewing all the chords again?"

Ted reached back to grab his own instrument, before flicking back his head to get his bangs out of his face.

"Let's do it, dude."

It was about an hour and a half later when your fingertips really started to get sore; even after said hour and a half was interspersed with several breaks, in which your very helpful teacher showed you a couple records from his own collection. And played a couple songs from said couple records.

Most of the songs were from the albums you'd chosen for him.

However, when it came to continuing to practice guitar, half of you wanted to bravely persist, and the other half wanted to stop. Though it was inevitably Ted that made the decision.

"I said it'd take time for you to get calluses, but you shouldn't push yourself too hard," he said, after you winced for maybe the third time. "It hurts, right? And that sucks, that was exactly what it felt like for me during the first, like, few weeks or so." Idly, he pushed back a lock of his hair which had migrated into his face. "I think we could stop for now."

"Yeah, okay." You put down your guitar. "You're right. I should head home to eat, anyway."

"Right," he replied.

There was an awkward beat, before you finally stood up. Ted followed suit.

"Yeah," you repeated, not being able to stop the smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth. "Thanks. Really, it was really sweet of you to offer to teach me a bit of guitar. I only mentioned it in passing, too."

His hand was back on the back of his neck as he walked the short distance with you to the entrance. "It's nothing," he deflected, but his expression said it all. "I'm just glad that I didn't turn out to be a horrific teacher, or something."

"No, you were fine!" Giving him another 'thanks' as he opened the door for you, you stepped out of the apartment. "I'm just glad that I wasn't a horrific student."

Turning to face him, you inclined your head, speaking before he could object.

"Bye. And thanks -- "

"-- you wanna do this again?"

It seemed even he was surprised at the question, taking into account how his face reddened. Once again. "Uh," he added, "I mean, it was fun. To hang out and teach you a couple chords. It'd be nice to hang out again." His tone was wavering. Stilted, almost. "Yeah."

It was cute.

"Sure," you answered without missing a beat. "Give me your number and I'll call when I get home."

His answering grin was powerful enough to power a thousand solar panels.

You probably broke a speed limit heading home, to say the least.

#ted logan x reader #ted logan imagine #ted logan imagines #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #ted logan x you #bill and ted imagine

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lovries · 2 years

Text

AQUARIUM DATE

featuring. the dateables (diavolo, barbatos, simeon, solomon).

summary. going on an aquarium date!

warnings. gn! reader.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ ─── DIAVOLO

Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, Diavolo rents out the entirety of the Devildom Aquarium. After a question about Devildom sea creatures earlier in the week, Diavolo made sure to finish up his work by Saturday so he could take you out on a cute little date!

Diavolo also made sure to learn a bunch of facts about the sea creatures native to the Devildom to further impress you, although he won't tell you about how much he studied during his breaks of paperwork. He was excited to show off his knowledge, taking your hand and enthusiastically pulling you through each exhibit.

"Ah, what about this one, Dia?" You say, stopping in front of a large tank that held red-and-black striped fish with two large golden horns on either side of its head. Diavolo hummed, deep in thought as he racked his brain for information on this specific fish.

"That one can poison other fishes with the horns on it head." He informed you, "but they're actually pretty friendly nonetheless." You let out a small 'oh' as you watch the fishes swim around. "Do you like these ones?" He asked, tilting his head in confusion. There were much cuter fishes, much less deadly ones too, but these ones seemed to capture your attention the most.

"I do," You say, glancing between Diavolo and the fish. You can't help but chuckle to yourself, thinking that they kind of look similar. "I think these ones are my favorite." Diavolo only furrows his brows in confusion at your laughter, but seeing you happy puts a smile on his face.

"Well, we have plenty of time to see the other fishes, lets stay here for a little while longer," He says, whilst squeezing your hand firmly. You nod, and continue to watch the fishes whilst he watches you.

(A few days later, you get a delivery— Diavolo sent you a tank along with those fishes you liked so much!?)

꒰ ♡ ꒱ ─── BARBATOS

Barbatos specifically requested a day off to spend with you, the entire day so you two could go out on a cute little date— and after some research, Barbatos found that aquariums are suitable spots for such activities, so that's where he decided to take you.

"Oh, look!" You gasp nearly as soon as you two enter the building, "Penguins are this way!" You grin, grasping his hand in yours and pulling him along. He freely follows you around, because your amusement is his. "Aw, they're so cute!"

"Very cute indeed," Barbatos agrees, watching as the penguins do a little trick for a fish. You two continue on, going deeper into the aquarium when an announcement through the P.A. System informed everyone that a dolphin show would be beginning soon, and quickly the hallways emptied out. You went to follow the flow of people, but Barbatos gently grabbed your hip and pulled you towards him, until you two were the only people left in the area.

With the dim lights, a gentle glow from the bioluminescent creatures casting amongst you two, you couldn't help but find the atmosphere become incredibly serene. Taking a step closer to Barbatos, you can't help but give him a pointed look.

"Did you see this happening?" You tease, but when he looks off, seeming a little bashful, you can't help but chuckle. Ah, so he did take a little peak in to the future. Well, you can't blame him: The mood was very romantic now. "Well?" You hum, grabbing his attention away from the glowing jellyfishes, "Aren't you going to kiss me?"

Barbatos lets out a soft, breathy chuckle, before pulling you closer and kissing you. As if the fish could understand, they reacted in the most beautiful way— lighting up, dancing like stars in the sky, amongst the water.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ ─── SIMEON

It was fun showing off human realm fish to Simeon, taking him to the aquarium and reading off the plaques to him, or spouting off your own knowledge of certain sea creatures. Simeon was particularly fascinated with the sea horses.

Hand-in-hand, you knew you two would soon be coming towards the last exhibit, as well as the gift shop. Simeon noticed a small spark in your eyes, something mischievous that had his stomach churning in a good way. "What do you have planned?" He asked, brows furrowed.

"Hm? Oh, nothing, nothing." You stop near the gift shop, "Just... Wait here for a few minutes, okay? I'll be right back!" He nods, a bit shocked at your sudden withdrawal.

"Oh, okay- Uhm..." He watches as your figure disappears. He awkwardly stands against the wall, waiting for you, when you suddenly appear with a giant grin and your hands behind your back. He narrows his eyes, "What do you have?"

"Ta-da!" You say, holding up matching sea horse keychains. "One for you, and one for me!" You hand him one, whilst you clasp the keychain on to your bag. "Do you like it?"

Simeon stares at the sea horse keychain in his hands, a soft smile on his lips. His eyes are filled with admiration— you got him a gift? You really didn't have to! Simeon looks up at you, his smile growing. "I love it, thank you."

Simeon makes a silent promise to forever cherish the keychain you gifted him. The fond memories he'll have whenever he looks at it is just much too great for him to not absolutely adore it!

꒰ ♡ ꒱ ─── SOLOMON

You can't help but laugh at Solomon, he has been taking your picture with just about every fish that was at the aquarium. Despite his hatred for big bodies of water, he doesn't seem to mind fish too much. "Ah, look at me!" He calls for you again, taking his phone out and snapping another picture.

You scoff, taking his phone from him. "Enough, let me take some pictures of you now." The following few fishes you take some pictures of Solomon. Damn, he looked adorable, now you understood his obsession...

Clearing your throat, you state you want to take a picture together with him and the fishes. You two find someone willing, and whilst you aren't looking, Solomon mutters a few words and flicks his wrist and-

Upon receiving the phone back, you look at it with a big smile before noticing something very odd— why were the fishes forming a heart around you two? You look over at Solomon, clearly amazed, when he smirks and takes the phone from you.

"I think this is the best one yet." He tells you as you sets it to his lockscreen. He then makes a show of turning off his phone and then turning it back on just to show you his new lockscreen.

You look back at the fish, they've all swam away now. Honestly, you're impressed Solomon got the fish to do such a task, and he's right, that photo is the best one.

"Hmm... Will you send that to me," You ask, and he pretends to think about it before holding his phone out of reach.

"No, I think I'll keep it all to myself." He teases, enjoying the way you frown in annoyance. However he knows better than to test your patience, he promises send you the photo later, along with the several hundred other he took.

﹙ thank you for reading! have a wonderful day! ﹚

#obey me x reader #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #om x reader #om imagines #om headcanons #omswd x reader #omswd imagines #omswd headcanons #diavolo x reader #barbatos x reader #simeon x reader #solomon x reader #obey me fluff #om fluff #omswd fluff #fluff #x reader

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slurpi13 · 9 months

Text

Demon Delivery

Summary: There wasn’t much Aziraphale wouldn’t put up with for a truly superb meal. But while dining out both luxuriously and otherwise was certainly typical, occasionally the angel desired a private night in.

Crowley had been the first to tempt his angel to the earthly pleasure of a good meal, and it was only right to see him through. Regardless of the meal being a takeaway, Aziraphale deserved no less than perfection, and that’s what he would have.

(OR: Crowley is one hell of a food delivery demon. Aziraphale rewards him thoroughly for his efforts.)

AO3

Explicit - 4127 words

The angel loved to dine in all forms, whether it be an unhurried evening of the finest wine and multi-course dining or a plate of greasy fish and chips.

By all means, Aziraphale preferred the luxurious experience of dining with Crowley at the Ritz—the hum of mild chatter, the soft piano melodies, and the posh excellence as he delighted in his dainty bites of decadence under the demon’s attentive observation. He did always appreciate the finer things, standards and all.

Nevertheless, the pair just as commonly frequented Aziraphale’s favorite chippy despite its typically boisterous crowd and modern decor, the angel mentioning the latter as if they were dirty words. The seating was lackluster, sleek stools and stiff booths, not accommodating to long, lavish dining events. The small shop was narrow and noisy, locals and tourists alike crowding around for their turn. A stray, accidental elbowing from said overexcited patrons wasn’t unusual, inciting warning hisses from the demon when Aziraphale was the recipient of such. Despite the atmospheric shortcomings, it was the best in London, according to the angel.

There wasn’t much Aziraphale wouldn’t put up with for a truly superb meal. But while dining out both luxuriously and otherwise was certainly typical, occasionally the angel desired a private night in.

Often, it was on a Tuesday—first of the month.

Crowley lounged upon his grand throne, one leg dangling over the armrest and chin balanced precariously against his palm. The screen of his phone glared back at him as the digital clock ticked over to five on the dot. Ever punctual, his phone began to vibrate with an incoming call. Straightening up in his seat, Crowley smirked, trying his best to keep it out of his voice as he held for an additional buzz before answering.

“Hello, angel.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale began, delight in his tone as if it were half a surprise to find him on the other end, as if he didn’t know Crowley’s number by heart, as if he hadn’t just dialed it purposefully on the antique phone he kept in his shop. “Are you busy? I was wondering if you might like to come over.”

“Sure. M’not doing anything. Hungry?” He should have waited for Aziraphale to suggest or at least allude to it, but he couldn’t help himself, his own appetite already getting the best of him. Crowley had no doubt the angel noted it, despite no indication.

“Well, now that you mention it, I suppose I am feeling a bit peckish. Would you mind terribly picking up something on your way? Dreadful weather.”

The weather was dreadful, a steady pitter of cold rain dribbling down the window of Crowley’s flat. While Aziraphale did appreciate a sunny day, if rain and a chill stopped the angel from venturing out into the streets, he’d rarely leave the bookshop. Regardless of what excuse the angel may have, Crowley knew that it simply just so happened to be raining on this Tuesday, the first one of the month, when the pâtisserie Aziraphale favored rotated their offerings.

“What do you fancy?”

Aziraphale hummed, making a show of debating over what exactly he had a craving for, as though it hadn’t been on his mind before he’d called, if not all day. It was a formality, as was his polite insistence that Crowley choose something else if he’d rather when he finally settled on his request—three courses of Italian from a restaurant that would balk at the idea of a takeaway.

The angel was letting him off easy tonight.

Nothing crisp that needed to stay that way in a steamy container on a damp evening. Nothing that would spill and slosh onto his Bentley seats if Crowley didn’t cradle it gingerly with his free hand and drive at suboptimal speeds. Nothing that deflated once it reached a few perilous meters away from the oven or started melting the moment it touched room-temperature air. No celebratory towers of fragile pastry meant for parties being tucked away by a single, prim angel.

Slightly disappointed, Crowley’s smirk faded. “Anything else, angel?”

“Perhaps something for our dessert.”

Full fic on AO3.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens fanfic #good omens fic #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale #crowley

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gothdaddyissues · 2 years

Text

In The 20s

Prologue available on Ao3

or under the cut (~2000 words)

Thanks to @ramblingoak for the help and encouragement with this one!

SUMMARY: It's the mid-1920's and Prohibition is in full swing. The Emeritus family are the city's biggest gang headed by the aging godfather Papa Nihil. With a successful bootlegging business and a popular speakeasy known as The Church, Nihil's sons Primo, Secondo, and Terzo fight to maintain their spot at the top of the crime ladder. A rival gang has plans to put the old man out of business for good.

RATING: Mature for violence and language

TAGS: Copia, Terzo, Secondo, OC characters, violence, blood, swearing, illegal activities, Google Translate Italiano

⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧

Copia took one last, long drag of his cigarette, the orange tip burning bright in the darkness. He savored the heat in his lungs before exhaling and flicking the butt into the river. It hit the water with a brief sizzle and disappeared into the murky waves below.

The sun would rise soon; the longer they stood here, the greater their chances of being seen. This was the worst part: the waiting. The uncertainty. Would their delivery arrive? Were they being watched? Would today be the day the police stopped them? It hadn’t happened yet, but there was always the chance. He wasn’t too worried - he knew they could handle any scenario. They were flexible. They had backup plans for their backup plans. That’s why they were kings in this town. But any fuck up meant they’d have to answer to Papa Nihil, and he’d rather spend the night in jail than deal with the miserable old bastard.

It was silent on the dock, the only sounds were the water lapping against the shore and the ‘tip-tap-tip-tap’ of Terzo’s shoes as he paced back and forth. Secondo lit another cigarette and sighed. Copia twirled his cane through his fingers in boredom. Their henchmen - their Ghouls - kept back next to the vehicles, Tommy guns at the ready.

“They’re late,” Terzo grumbled.

“They’ll be here,” Secondo replied calmly, “Just relax.”

“Are you sure? They’ve never been late before.” Terzo’s patience was wearing thin. He was the most anxious and hot-headed of the three Emeritus brothers, traits that were less than ideal as the heir apparent to his father’s empire.

“Give them until first light,” Copia suggested. “We’ll be too exposed if we stay past then.”

“Says the guy in the conspicuous white suit,” Terzo scoffed.

Copia rolled his eyes. “And who’s fault is that? You’re the one that dragged me right off stage the second the show ended and didn’t even give me a chance to change.”

“Shut up,” Secondo said, “Both of you.” He put his hand up to his ear. “Listen. They’re coming.”

The faint sound of a boat motor was drifting across the water, slowly getting louder as it steered closer. The engine misfired, chugging and struggling under the weight of its load. A light bobbed along the surface - a flashlight signaling morse code: short-long-long-short, long-short-long, long-long-short. PKG. Their cargo was arriving.

Secondo took out his pocket lamp and signaled back: long-short-long-short, short-short-long. CU. Message received. He laid the torch on the dock as an impromptu guidelight to help the boat across the choppy river water to the meeting spot.

The first rays of morning light we just breaking over the horizon when the tiny fishing boat finally arrived at the dock. One of the two men tossed the tie rope to Secondo so he could anchor them down.

“Sorry about the wait gents,” the other man said, “I think we overloaded ‘er and it slowed us down.”

“Worry not, my friends,” Terzo assured them, a stark contrast to his earlier annoyance. “As long as you’ve got the goods, everything’s peachy.” He motioned behind him for the Ghouls to come forward and help unload.

“We sure do!” the man said. With a crowbar in his hand, he began prying the lids of the wooden crates to show proof of their contents. “Three cases of the finest Canadian Club whisky, as requested. Two cases of English gin, and…” He saved the best for last. “A full case of French Champagne. I should have more of that in a week or two.”

Terzo beamed with delight. “Champagne! At last! I will take as much of it as you can get. You have outdone yourselves this time. Molto apprezzato!” He turned to Copia and held up two fingers. “Fetch the men their payment, won’t you? I think they deserve a little bonus.”

The boatmen lifted the crates up to the Ghouls waiting on the dock, who then carried each one to the truck parked nearby, while Copia went to the car and returned with two plain cloth bags filled with cash. Terzo took one bag and tossed it to the captain of the boat.

“Your fee, as agreed,” he said. “And…” He tossed the second bag to him as well. “Buy yourself a bigger boat. You’ve earned it.”

The man opened the bags and looked at the racks of bills within, stunned. “Jeepers! Thank you… thank you, sir!”

Terzo nonchalantly waved his hand, “Non è niente,” he smiled, “There’s more where that came from if you keep up the good work.”

“You got it, boss!”

The boat was quickly unloaded and Secondo unhooked the rope from its anchor post. “Now get gone, fellas. The sun’s coming up.”

“Yes sir, thank you, sir,” the man said as he started up the little boat’s motor, “See you next week.” He puttered away from the shoreline to start his journey back across the river to Canada.

With delivery complete and the truck loaded with bootleg liquor, Secondo told the Ghouls to head out. “Get this back to the Church. Quick, si?” The Ghoul in the driver’s seat nodded and the rest piled in for the ride.

Terzo watched the truck pull away, rubbing his hands together in anticipation as he turned to his companions. “Champagne, Copia! I can’t wait! I’m going to treat Evie to a bottle when we get back.” He sighed, blissful at the thought. “A good haul tonight. Papa will be happy.”

“Yes,” Copia said sarcastically, “So happy that you’re drinking his product and fucking his girl.”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, eh?”

“The two of you will be in a world of hurt if he ever finds out,” Copia warned.

Terzo clapped Copia on the shoulder good-naturedly. “You worry too much, compagno. I have that senile old fart wrapped around my little finger. I can do no wrong. I’m his Golden Boy, his Chosen One…”

“You are a stronzo,” Secondo sneered, “C’mon, we need to get out of here. Andiamo.”

“Don’t be jealous, fratello,” Terzo laughed as the three men moved to make their way back to the car parked at the end of the dock. But they stopped in their tracks.

There, in front of their car, was a young police officer - very young - standing alone, his arm outstretched with a gun in his trembling hand. “S… St-st-stop, in the.. name of the law,” he stuttered.

All three men reached inside their coats, hands on the guns they wore concealed beneath.

“STOP!” the officer yelled. “I mean it!”

Terzo slowly pulled his hand out of his jacket and raised both of his hands in the air above him. “Oh no, fratellos! He means it! We’d best give ourselves up,” he mocked, before dissolving into laughter.

“Put the gun down, child,” Secondo said sternly, “You’re shaking like a leaf - you shoot that thing and you’ll hurt yourself more than you’d hurt one of us.”

“You’re just a fledgling, aren’t you? Lost here all by yourself,” Terzo observed, composing himself. He could see the sweat trickling down the young man’s forehead, his chest heaving with panting breath. “Do you even know who we are?”

“You’re… you’re the Emeritus Brothers,” the officer said, swallowing hard, “And I’m arresting you for illegal… um… importation! The illegal importation of alcohol.”

Terzo looked around him. “I don’t see any alcohol here. Do you?” he asked.

“I saw you bring it in on a boat and load it onto a truck.”

“What truck? There’s no truck here. You have no proof of anything. And no fellow officers with you to back you up. I’m afraid there’s not much you can do, pollo.” Terzo was just taunting him now. He slowly approached the officer, unafraid. “I’ll tell you what,” Terzo began softly, “You put your gun down, get back in your car, and drive away from this place. You never saw a thing, right? Here,” Terzo reached into his pocket and pulled out a $50 bill, which he tucked between the buttons of the officer’s coat, “Something for your trouble, yes? Go on… Take it.”

“I suggest you do what he says, boy,” Copia warned. “Leave while you can.”

The young man was shaking violently, almost sobbing. “You are in… violation of… of… The Volstead Act, and I’m… I’m…”

Secondo sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fuck this,” he muttered. He stomped forward and grabbed the officer’s gun hand, his gloved palm covering it completely. In one swift move, Secondo swept in behind him, bringing his other arm around the young man’s neck in a chokehold. The man gasped and whined as he was forced out onto the dock, closer and closer to the water, his toes dangling over the edge of the wooden boards. The only thing keeping him from falling in face first was Secondo’s grip.

“I told you, kid,” Copia said sadly, “Look what happens when you try to be a hero.”

Secondo took the man’s hand, the one holding the gun, and brought the barrel up against the man’s temple. “How did you find this place, huh? This is private property. Emphasis on private.”

“I… I was just driving by…” the officer wheezed, “And I saw…”

“Bullshit!” Secondo tightened his grip on the gun, placing his finger on the trigger. “You don’t just stumble on this place. Who told you? Who sent you?”

The young man squeezed his eyes shut, tears rolling down his cheeks. He shook his head but did not speak.

“Come on, bambino,” Terzo snarled, “Speak up!”

No response.

“How old are you, boy?” Secondo asked.

“Twen… Twenty-two,” the officer choked out.

“You’re just a baby, so much life ahead of you. Is this really how you want to go out? Hmmm? Protecting someone who sent you straight into the lion’s den?”

The officer would not relent. “It’s my duty… my duty to serve and protect. I’m arresting you…”

The two brothers exchanged looks. Terzo nodded tersely and stepped back. Copia knew what was coming - he felt pity for the young man, but there was nothing he could do now.

“Sorry about your luck, boy,” Secondo said, cold as ice. He pulled the trigger and the sound of the gunshot rang out in the crisp morning air.

Terzo stepped forward and pulled the bloody $50 bill out of the officer’s coat before Secondo let go of the lifeless body, sending it into the river with a sploosh. He tossed the gun in after it. The three men stood in the pale light, watching as the body sank toward the bottom in a perverse show of respect for the fallen.

“So,” Terzo said, handing a black handkerchief to his brother, “We’re either being spied on, or we have a rat. No way was he just passing by.”

Secondo wiped at the blood splattered across his face, nodding. “Either way, our whole operation is in jeopardy now.”

“Imperator’s gang?” Copia assumed.

“Has to be,” Terzo agreed. He looked out over the water at the sunrise, his rage simmering. “Papa does not hear about this until we figure out our next move, si? Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

Copia and Terzo began to head back to their waiting vehicle, but Secondo did not move. He stood silently on the dock for a few moments, his eyes closed. He reached up to the band of his hat and pulled out a folded piece of paper he kept there, a small lined sheet that had been torn out of a notebook. He produced a pencil from his inner coat pocket and added another tally mark to the dozens that were already there. One for each life he had taken in service of his father. He counted up the new total, even though he already knew the number. He always knew the number.

Secondo re-folded the paper and placed it back in his hat band as he walked to join the others. He gave Copia the once over as he passed him: “Looks like you’ve got a bit of a mess on you,” he pointed out.

Copia looked down and saw flecks of blood spattered over the front of his white suit jacket. “Ah, shit,” he swore.

Terzo chucked and handed the blood-stained $50 bill to Copia: “This should cover your cleaning bill, Piano Man.”

#ghost #the band ghost #ghost fan fic #ghost fanfiction #ghost fan fic AU #my fan fic #my fan fiction #copia #terzo #secondo

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abstractnaturaldisaster · 2 years

Text

Steddie Flower Shop / Tattoo Parlor AU

Part One I Part Two I Part Three I Part Four I Part Five I Part Six I Part Seven I Part Eight I Also on AO3!

We’re getting close to the end! A little Valentine’s Day flower delivery update prior to the boys finally getting to have their big date! Thanks for sticking with me! Happy Valentine’s Day!

***

Whatever Robin said, Steve had absolutely not spent the rest of the day yesterday fretting about delivering flowers with Eddie. What he had done was prepare to be excellent company including fishing out his old cassette to ipod converter so he could provide a classic valentines day soundtrack to the delivery route, put together a bag of snacks and a blanket for the car, and tried on more outfits than he was willing to admit to decide what to wear to accompany Eddie on his delivery route. He’d eventually landed on a pair of joggers and a soft light purple sweater. He felt like it looked festive but wasn’t obnoxiously Valentine’s-coded. Robin had taken a different tactic on her outfit and was fully decked out for the holiday including candy heart earrings and bright pink corduroys. After Steve had told her that he would be out all day with Eddie, Robin had volunteered to hang back with Chrissy at De Lucas’.

“Man, it’s a little early to move in with him, Steve,” Robin joked when Steve had pulled together his bag for the day.

“I just want to be prepared, Robs. I want to at least try to be helpful,” Steve answered.

“Dude, it’ll be great. You’ll be the best little passenger princess Eddie has ever seen.”

“Fuck you.” Steve knew Robin was just messing with him; however, he did feel like maybe he had gone a little overboard. But Eddie had spent the last month secretly wooing Steve and he felt like he owed it to Eddie to make at least a little romantic gesture even though they were officially celebrating tomorrow. “Be nice to me or I’m going to start giving you shit about Chrissy.”

“What about me and Chrissy?” Robin asked.

“Seriously?” Steve glanced over at Robin with a smirk.

“Steve,” Robin warned

“Robin.”

“She is not into me that way, dude,” Robin reasoned.

“This conversation is sounding very familiar,” Steve laughed.

“Goodbye, dingus,” Robin said. “It looks like your chariot is ready.”

Eddie was honking loudly across the street and waving his arm maniacally out the window of the van in the direction of the tattoo studio. Steve slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way over to Eddie’s van.

“Are we participating in a heist I don’t know about?” Eddie asked as Steve got closer.

“What?” Steve asked. “Oh, the bag! I just brought like snacks and stuff. I figured you might need stuff to make the long day more fun.” Steve blushed a little but hoped Eddie would think it was just the winter chill.

“Stevie! That’s so sweet,” Eddie said.

“Seriously, it’s not a big deal. Also, I don’t want to, like, distract you from work, so let me know if it’s too much.”

“Nah, I could use something to break up the monotony of Valentine’s deliveries. Ready to get the show on the road?” Eddie said as they got settled into the van.

The van started up and whatever tape Eddie had in the player started blaring. Steve reached over and turned the volume down.

“So, you can totally say no, but I did find my old cassette / ipod converter if you trust me to dj?”

“Do you take requests?” Eddie asked.

“From you, never,” Steve laughed.

Steve loaded up the playlist he made which happened to include the songs from the Hall & Oates tape Steve had gotten Eddie as well as that one love song from Eddie’s Led Zeppelin record. Steve had of course added other classic sappy Valentine’s Day hits and was singing along to them very badly in the passenger seat. Thankfully Eddie didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he’d join in every once in a while.

“Hey, you have a pretty good voice, dude,” Steve said.

“I thought we’d moved past dude, man,” Eddie teased.

“Do you have a favorite pet name?” Steve asked.

“I dunno, honestly, I’ve never really done the whole like ‘going steady’ thing,” Eddie answered.

“Really? Shit. I’m gonna romance the hell outta you, Munson.” “I don’t think Munson is it, babe, a little too sporty,” Eddie laughed.

“Hmm. Back to the drawing board,” Steve said and settled back into the surprisingly comfortable seat. Steve listened to Eddie croon along to an Elvis standard and smiled to himself, wondering how he got so lucky. After driving through most of Chicago’s neighborhoods the morning deliveries were finished.

“Should we go pick up lunch for the girls on our way back?” Eddie asked when he got back into the van.

“Yeah! I also feel like I need caffeine or I will fall asleep on you this afternoon,” Steve answered.

They made it back to the shop with bags of deli sandwiches, chips and chocolates.

“How goes it on the home front?” Eddie asked as he threw open the door to the flower shop.

“We almost ran out of red roses but Chrissy threatened your supplier within an inch of their life until they sent out another order.” Robin answered, her voice full of admiration.

“Yeah, we probably need to send Mr. Lee some cookies or something after today,” Chrissy flushed a little at Robin’s praise.

“Eh, he’ll be fine. He’s just a drama queen. All right. Eat up then we have to get the afternoon deliveries ready!” Eddie responded.

After they eat, the group makes an assembly line to prepare the delivery orders. Eddie and Steve packed up the van again and left Robin and Chrissy to handle any last minute shoppers and clean up the flower shop. Steve held Eddie’s hand over the gear shift as they sped back out into the city.

The afternoon continued much like the morning, Eddie gently ribbing Steve’s music taste and Steve judging Eddie for his horrible takes on Valentine’s Day candy. They finished out the last few stops and made it back just as Chrissy was flipping the open sign off and Robin swept the shop floor.

“Good day, Stevie?” Eddie asked.

“The best, babe.” Steve said and pecked a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “Wanna grab a drink or something or are you ready to crash?”

“As much as I want to, I should probably head in. I need to be in top form for our date tomorrow, big boy,” Eddie answered.

“I get it. Can I kiss you good night?”

“Oh, sweetheart, absolutely.” Eddie said as he pulled Steve into their first kiss.

As Eddie started running his fingers through Steve’s hair, Steve melted into Eddie and pulled him closer. Eddie was about to pull Steve up into his apartment when Chrissy and Robin banged on the flower shop window and whistled. Steve jumped out of Eddie’s arms and Eddie had to laugh.

“Continue this tomorrow, Eds?” Steve asked.

“Tomorrow, princess,” Eddie smiled back.

***

Last part is up now!

Taglist: @a-little-unsteddie @maya-custodios-dionach @eboyawstenn @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadcanadianwinter @thehumblefigtree @throwbackthrowaway @micheledawn1975 @blisschaoss @vecnuthy @grimmfitzz @spectrum-spectre @croatoan-like-its-hot @momotonescreaming @beckkthewreck @korixae @citrus-owl @baron-zemo-trash @sleepdeprivedflower @nuagedemots @lololol-1234 @books-and-current-obsessions @acrolius @mightbeasleep @vi-an-te @gregre369 @i-must-potato @vampireinthesun @steveisabicon @child-of-cthulhu @whimsicalwitchm @aceflavouredyougurt @that-bi-gremlin99 @oxidantdreamboat @goodolefashionedloverboi @notaqueenakhaleesi @briceslayed @raisedbylibrarians @bejeweledbaby @avacrebs @magpiemuseum @majesticenbypancake @r0semaryyy @nerdsconquerall @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @shiyshy2004 @zerokrox-blog @straight4joekeery

#my fic #steddie #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #tattoo artist steve #florist eddie #flower shop / tattoo parlor AU

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