#coffeeshop chats | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hedgehog-moss · 10 months

Text

Here are 7 little facts about my donkey and how his summer is going :)

1. I received an anon the other day asking if Pirou was still a working donkey who carries my firewood for me, and the answer is yes. I've been cutting some branches from the big cherry tree that fell down the other day, and Pirlouit has been valiantly carrying them to the woodshed—fun fact, for this activity he likes to wear his ears like this:

Probably because this T position is reminiscent of Jesus' sacrifice on the cross, which is how Pirlouit perceives himself as he carries heavy logs for me. He's willing, but his martyrdom should be acknowledged.

Here's Poldine acknowledging it with a nose kiss, because Poldine.

I stopped so they could have their little chat.

2. Pirou has been chatting with a lot of new friends lately—we met these horses on a walk and he was so happy to stop and touch noses with them while making equid noises. Llamas are good with the nose-touching but their llama noises are just less interesting to Pirlouit. He had such interested ears here! "Finally a serious grown-up conversation"

We also met this goose during the same walk and Pirlouit was a lot less eager to go say hi to her. The goose was yelling threats at us and we prudently stayed away, and Pirou was clearly thinking "this bird is doing a better job at protecting her home from intruders than Pandolf ever could" (it's true, Pan assumes intruders are friends until proven otherwise)

3. You'll notice that there are houses in this pic! Our walks got longer and longer until one day we went all the way to the village (it took 1 hour 20min at Pirlouit's leisurely pace). I was so proud of him. I've been trying to convince my friends to go to the village on donkeyback (this requires two people, because you can ride Pirlouit but you can't tell him where to go unless there's someone holding his rope and leading the way)—my friends were reluctant because they still sort of perceive Pirou as the feral animal terrified of everything that he was when I got him. They know he's made a lot of progress but going to town on donkeyback still seemed foolhardy.

So we've been riding Pirlouit in the woods, in familiar environments, and we also went to town with him but without riding him. He was amazingly calm and brave! There's a river that cuts the village in two and the first time we went, we stopped before the bridge, since it's pretty narrow and cars would have to drive very close to Pirlouit, we didn't want to risk it. We just went to say hi to the librarian who lives on the right side of the river, but since Pirlouit was very serene, we did cross the bridge the second time.

He did not care at all about cars driving very close to him (he had one familiar human on either side of him and the drivers were very considerate and went slowly), which emboldened us to stop for a drink on the terrace of the coffeeshop on main street (< also a narrow street with cars driving by quite close to Pirlouit). There was just no problem at all, Pirou let total strangers rub his forehead and was more interested in iced tea than main street traffic.

It was a hot day and we gave him all the ice cubes from our drinks and he chewed them enthusiastically.

4. We made a stop at the pharmacy on our way home because we had another 1 hour 20min walk ahead and I had a blister, and the pharmacist noticed my donkey parked outside his shop and in a determined tone he said, "I want to try something." He took one of the donkey milk soaps from the overpriced-Provence-soaps-for-tourists display and opened the door and offered it for Pirlouit to sniff.

... I'm not sure what he was expecting—for my donkey to go "ohhh this smells like Mother's milk and aloe vera 🥺"—but unfortunately nothing happened.

(4. bis—Sorry, this 4th fact was anticlimactic.)

5. Pirlouit is now the proud owner of a surcingle. Not for equestrian vaulting and not for his log-carrying job because I don't know if it would be solid enough for the weight of a bag full of logs, but I'd like to tie bags or baskets to it to take Pirlouit grocery shopping, now that I know he's okay with going to town :) He even seems to enjoy the adventure, and the attention he gets from children.

And actually I shouldn't write off equestrian vaulting because Pirou is also remarkably chill with weird things happening on his back. I used to be very careful to climb on his back in a quick & fluid way so he wouldn't spook (because he used to! a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil used to spook him!) but now that my friends are riding him I can confirm we've reached a point where you can climb on Pirlouit's back in any way you want and he'll just be like "...... sure"

6. I almost forgot to mention that Pirou turned 15 last month, according to his ID papers :) Donkeys have a longer life expectancy than horses, they can live 30-40 years on average so he's still a young lad really. Happy 15th birthday Pirlouit :)

7. I wanted to conclude with a nice aesthetic pic of Pirou's shadow on the road during all those walks, like I did with Poldine, but unfortunately donkey shadows do not have the chic je-ne-sais-quoi of llama shadows. Pirlouit looks like a hammerhead shark wearing a tiny fez and that's not his fault.

#crawling along #i am so proud of him!#4 years ago i couldn't even touch him let alone halter him let alone... any of this #he's a great donkey. very curious and interested in the world around him especially iced tea bottles

4K notes · View notes

lizardsfromspace · 4 months

Text

Screencap of a tweet by a white teenager: Damn. Jim Carrey's The Grinch be the Rizz King, no cap

An English major on Tumblr: No but do you ever think about The Grinch? All alone on his mountain. Cold. Windy. His heart is small but the heart of the Whovillians who hate him without knowing him are smaller. Cold. Their love is selective, based in material things. The tragedy is that the Grinch stole their Christmas, but they always stole his Christmas. Did they know? Did they know they were consigning him to a cold death on that mountain? The death of a heart......

Cottagecore blog with Taylor Swift lyrics URL: I never thought about that before...it's so true. This is what capitalism is doing to us...the Instagram effect...

Twitter transplant: lol it's not that deep

15 year old with thoughts on fanfiction: No but the Grinch is the VILLAIN. Don't you get that?

42 year old "fandom mom", writing a Horton Hears a Who coffeeshop AU on her lunch break at Raytheon: Um, sweetie, he may be a villain but I still wanna know what else grows five sizes ;)

LicentiousGisela: Come do chat of the sex with the ⛑️ BRAVEST 🥫 MOST BREEDABLE 🥫 CLAIMS ADJUSTER 🎳 IN NORTHEASTERN OHIO 🇻🇨😜

#tumblr

437 notes · View notes

engie-ivy · 3 months

Text

@wolfstarmicrofic 5th: Cupid💘

817 words

When Remus let James Potter set him up on a date with his best friend, Lily had hoped that at least he would find out dating really isn't that terrible, and finally start allowing Lily to set him up on dates as well.

Not Sorry

Lily stumbles a little as she walks over to Remus, because damn those bloody heels.

Remus turns towards her from where he's standing at the bar and arches an eyebrow. “Lils, you might want to go easy on the wine.”

Which is ridiculous. Lily has only had three glasses. And some champagne before that. And maybe a cocktail at some point.

“Don't change the topic!” Lily says, even though they hadn't actually been talking yet. She jabs her finger at Remus’ chest. “I'm still mad at you!”

“Oh, come on, Lils," Remus chuckles. “You're going to have to get over it at some point.”

“We had a deal, Lupin!”

“I know, Lily, but-”

“A deal! All I ever wanted was to get you this fun and exciting dating life,” Lily sighs wistfully. “So you could have handsome men take you out and boost your ego like you deserve, and we could share dating stories and laugh about weird guys together. But did you allow me to set you up on a date ever?”

“I did not,” Remus admits.

“You did not!” Lily exclaims, as if Remus didn't already just admit to that. “It was all ‘No, Lily, I'm just the sort of person who's better off by himself’, ‘No, Lily, I'm not looking for anything’, ‘No, Lily, I'm too independent and need my alone time’, and yadda yadda.” She rolls her eyes. “But then what happened? You allowed your new coworker to set you up on a date with his best friend!”

“It's just very hard to say no to James,” Remus defends himself.

Lily scoffs. Although, while she has only met James Potter a few times, if she's honest she can kind of imagine. When Potter is looking at you with those puppy eyes of his, giving you that hopeful smile, all bright and eager and- Lily shakes her head. She's getting off track. “But we came to a very clear agreement,” she continues, placing her hands on her hips. “If you would learn that going on a date is actually not such a dreadful experience as you seemed to think, you would finally start letting me set you up on dates as well. And was the date dreadful?”

“No, it wasn't,” Remus sighs.

“And did you let me set you up on any dates afterwards, as you promised?”

“No, I didn't,” Remus sighs.

“No, you didn't!” Lily mimics. “Not one date, nothing!” She lets out a dramatic sigh. “And I had so many ideas… That cute redhead from the coffeeshop, that fit bloke from my yoga class, the hot guy from accounting… It would've been so fun, so exciting, maybe we even could've gone on double dates at some point!”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Sirius appears at Remus’ side, sliding an arm around his waist. “But as much as I enjoy bonding with your family– our family–,” he corrects with a smile. “Your Aunt Joy has been telling me about her bad knee for half an hour now. The sooner you get that woman some wine, the better.”

“And you!” Lily says, turning her attention to Sirius. “You're to blame as well, you know!”

Sirius blinks at her. “Alright, Evans?”

Lily jabs her finger at Sirius’ chest now. “You just had to snatch him off the market right away, didn't you?”

Sirius blinks again, and then barks a laugh. “Well, can you blame me, Lils? I couldn't risk letting this one get away, now could I?” He presses a kiss to Remus’ cheek. “I had to lock it down as soon as possible.”

Lily purses her lips, because, well, no, maybe she actually can't blame him for that.

“I'll be right there, babe,” Remus says, squeezing Sirius’ hand.

Sirius nods and walks off to deal with Remus’ aunt.

Remus looks at Lily and shrugs. “What can I say, Lils? James just struck gold the first time. If you want me to apologize, I'm going to have to disappoint you.” He looks over at the other side of the room while touching the brand new golden ring around his finger, to where Sirius is chatting to his aunts. Sirius catches his gaze, and the forced smile on his face turns into a soft, genuine one. Remus smiles as well. “I'm really not sorry at all.”

Lily watches Remus and Sirius make their way through the room to chat with all their guests.

They do look awfully good together, she thinks sourly.

Then she turns on her heels, having decided to go look for James Potter and give him a piece of her mind. Stupid Potter, thinking he can play Cupid and set their best friends up for their happy-ever-after! Like, who does he think he is? Making Remus so bloody happy, making her bloody cry with that stupid best man speech of his, and looking so bloody handsome in his stupid suit!

Yes, she'll tell him alright.

#wolfstar microfic #matchmaker prongs #drunk lily evans #wolfstar wedding #smitten remus lupin #smitten sirius black #wolfstar #jily #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #lily evans #james potter

222 notes · View notes

dragonnarrative-writes · 2 months

Note

im gonna be honest, I keep rereading pt 3 and 4 of the slasher handler and fantasising about how incredibly sexy it would be if kyle acquired a handler of his own by accident or on purpose and he finally understands simon's obsession now 😵‍💫

Slasher Handler Masterlist

Kyle and Simon aren't friends, per se. They only met through Johnny, because Johnny is sloppy and impulsive and never knows how to clean up his own messes. It's offensive to Kyle's meticulous nature and, apparently, appeals to Simon's need for a pet.

Since Johnny's been serving time for the last nine months, with nine months to go (sloppy work, he's lucky Kyle was able to clean things up), Simon's gone to ground. Every now and then, news of his work pops up. Once, one of the victims had ended up at the hospital Kyle works at.

"The Ghost Killer strikes again! Ah...! Run...!" Kyle had muttered to himself, taking the unconscious young man's rapidly fading vitals. They'd found him in an abandoned building, an old hospital well outside of Simon's usual territory. Which means something has changed.

That evening, sipping a beer, he'd called Price on his burner.

"What can I do for you, Kyle?"

"Just letting you know that your dog is out of the yard. The big one, not the terrier," Kyle answers with a smile. "He left behind a bit of a mess, but there was only one little rabbit left suffering. I handled it."

Price had hummed on the other end. "I saw the news. 'S not like him. I'll check in." And then he'd hung up.

Months later, and Kyle finally has an answer when he catches Simon trailing behind a woman not once but three times. He's surprised to see her face, an old classmate and the justification for his second ever human kill. He's almost sad to know that she's been marked for death. When he hears about the Ski Lodge massacre and the Ghost copycat, he has a drink in her honor.

So it's a surprise when she reaches out to him online and asks to meet.

She's frazzled and wild-eyed when she sits in the chair across from him. She's also wearing one of Simon's beanies. And when she reveals what Simon's been up to, he can't help but laugh.

Simon - the weird, off-putting, murderous Ghost - has somehow managed to find the one person in the world who devotes herself to a project more than him. The Final Girl Girlfriend.

They're both doomed.

Kyle begins the painstaking process of reviewing his daily journals for mentions of Simon and their shared connections. It's very unlikely that Simon would be caught alive, and even more unlikely that he'd say anything about Kyle or Johnny or Price. But unlikely isn't impossible, so it's important to start getting his stories straight now.

Reviewing, flagging, and annotating his journals from his initial meeting with Johnny to now takes a month and three days. It's always an interesting process, looking at his life with the advantage of hindsight. There's always a new fascinating pattern to examine. For example, that first summer, he'd meet with Johnny every other week, and two and six days later, he'd gradually step up a patient's blood thinners.

Another pattern that's emerged is that he hasn't dated anyone for more than 35 days in the last three years. That's about as long as it takes for his exacting nature to become... a conflict. It's not much of a problem. He's a nurse, he works long hours. He's got a gym routine and volunteers at the local pet rescue once a week. He's a part of the community, so he doesn't stick out as a loner. But he's also solidly at a point in his life where someone would expect him to have a partner.

He makes an online dating profile. It takes a week for him to delete the app.

"Darlene," he greets the head nurse with a smile and her favorite coffee at the beginning of his next shift. "How are you today?"

"Kyle." As always, she barely glances at him, just holds out her hand for her drink. "You're early. What do you want?"

She's right, he's thirty minutes early. He grins. "You wound me. Can't I just want to know how a beautiful woman is doing?"

Darlene gives him a blank look over the top of her bifocals. "Save it for the maternity ward, Garrick. What do you want?"

"Just wanna know the lay of the land," he says, coming around the desk and taking the seat next to her. He likes Darlene because she only expects him to be coy for a short time. "Been on the apps, trying to date. But my hours make things difficult. You know everybody's business. How is anyone in a relationship around here?"

"The surgeons are all on meth, the rest of the doctors are on coke, and the nurses are either fucking each other or their high school sweethearts," Darlene says, dry as a desert. "You know this already. What do you actually want?"

"That's it," he says with a shrug. "Just want to know who's not seeing anyone, or if you know of someone at another campus with the time."

She takes a sip of her coffee and thinks for a moment. "Stay off the psych and plastics floors. Maternity floor's about to get a whole new batch since all of those idiots got pregnant within three months of each other. But there's something in the water up there, so unless you also want a baby, I'd say leave them alone."

"James is on the maternity floor," Kyle points out.

"James cheated on his boyfriend and his side piece with another nurse," Darlene points out, settling into her coffee and gossip. "Which is another reason to stay away from plastics, but also trauma and rads. I didn't know you were bisexual."

"Doesn't come up much," Kyle dismisses, sipping his own coffee.

By the time Kyle has to clock in, they've explored the pros and cons of almost every department. The prospects are pretty grim. Maybe being single isn't the worst thing in the world.

He makes a point of spending time with the other nurses for the next month. He goes out for drinks and karaoke, attends a couple of baby showers. Lets on to a couple of gossips that he's looking, tells another that he's not sure he has time to date. Enjoys the conclusion of a project when a racist old bastard finally has the heart attack he can't bounce back from.

And then the nurse coroner flags the death for investigation.

Kyle doesn't panic because technically all deaths in the hospital are investigated. But he is intrigued. His own notes show that the patient's condition was well within the expected parameters of recovery and relapse. His medications were administered appropriately while Kyle was on shift, and the hydrogen peroxide added to his IV would have been nigh undetectable.

In the end, the hospital is not determined to be at fault for the death, and that's all that administration cares about. But the cause of death is changed from heart attack to embolism in the record, and that is intriguing.

"Knock knock," Kyle says, poking his head into the office area of the morgue. He expects to see Dennis, the older gentleman running the morgue unit, who waves back at him. He doesn't expect the new face, sitting across the desk from him.

"Good morning, Kyle," Dennis greets, waving him in. "Been a bit since you've come to see us. Care for some tea?"

"Can't," Kyle says, apologetically. "Just dropping someone off."

"Well, at least let me introduce our new nurse!"

The new nurse gives him a no-nonsense handshake and a nod. They don't say much beyond their name, and Kyle is pleased to put a face to the name on the investigation into his last project. He wasn't exaggerating when he said he couldn't stay long, so he says his goodbyes.

But when his next completed project is flagged for investigation again, he decides that maybe it's time to take an interest.

#cod #fanfiction #dark fic #slasher handler #kyle gaz garrick #gaz appreciation nation #dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction #coffeeshop chats #thank you so much for this ask #this really helped me push through the writers block!

141 notes · View notes

1hot-mess-express1 · 25 days

Text

Ex-Husband!Nanami knew you deserved more. He was cold and distant after leaving the world of Jujutsu. Drowning himself in his work to avoid the constant nagging in the back of his mind, he lost sight of what really mattered, the one piece of that world that followed him wholeheartedly into the unknown. The nights when he did come home, you were perched at the dining room table, food long forgotten and head resting peacefully on the shiny oak. He runs a large hand down his weathered face, rubbing at the creases in his brow and cursing himself a little. How did it get like this?

Ex-Husband!Nanami knows it’s over when he returns to see that same dining room table empty, save for the meal you had prepared that had long since gone cold. He doesn’t bother to check the rest of the house; instead settles himself on the couch, head in hands, wondering why he felt happy for you; he should be consumed with distraught, but the thought of you getting all of the love and care you deserve brings a crestfallen smile to his features.

Ex-Husband!Nanami doesn’t expect to see you again. He fancies the idea of strolling into a coffeeshop, looking over, and seeing you curled up in the booth, entirely too comfortable for a public place, nose deep in a book, but he knows that won’t happen. He likes to think that you’re tucked away in the lavish home of some rich man, surrounded by beauty and poetry, the likes of which come second only to you and the warmth you radiate. Imagine his surprise when he walks past a veil and sees your beautiful ear-to-ear smile as you chat away with a manager. You looked so much younger than when he last saw you; your skin was radiant, and your eyes weren’t sunk in; your posture was befitting of someone like you. You looked nothing like the shell of a person he had left behind.

Ex-Husband!Nanami returns to Jujutsu tech the next day. He tells himself he’s doing it to protect you, that he couldn’t live with himself if you died on some mission while he was blissfully unaware, off-playing salaryman. He knows this isn’t true; he knows that you were a much better sorcerer than he ever was. Nanami knows that you were made for this life, unlike him, always the hero donning a sweet smile and preaching about the importance of sorcerers in a curse-filled land. He knows that the reason he returns is entirely selfish, that he wanted to peer at that beautiful soul he nearly let wither away at his dining room table. He would be happy to lay down his life in this world if it meant that he could watch you bloom.

Ex-Husband!Nanami knew you deserved more, but deep down, he was a selfish child and he was going to indulge those youthful desires once more. He had grown old at much too young of an age, but seeing you like this made him feel young again.

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #kento nanami #nanami drabbles #exhusband!nanami #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #kento x reader #jjk kento #jujutsu kaisen nanami

130 notes · View notes

monsterbvg · 2 years

Text

adrien but it's my au

#art #fanart #digital art #miraculous fanart #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #chat noir #miraculous au #coffeeshop au #mlb #my art!!!

33 notes · View notes

luvkuvi · 10 months

Text

"anything else ?" "your number..." !

In where auntie nahida finds a cute barasita and tries to play matchmaker.

Gn! reader, coffeeshop au, supportive auntie nahida finding her nephew a partner

Imagine Nahida trying to try the cafes around the area she had her nephew Scaramouche over for the summer so he can have a fun summer but he doesn't seem interested in going out and locks himself in his room where he plays video games despite Nahida wanting him to go out with her once and awhile.

So today she decided to find some spots where she thinks scara might be interested. "Cafés are popular among scara and his peers," she thought that's why she sought out nearby cafes and most of them were okay but she knew her nephew(more than his mother) and those cafés don't have the thing she was looking for until she entered this cafe and saw you.

As soon as she entered the cafe she saw your smile as you greeted her. "hello! Welcome, to [ insert cafe name], I'm y/n and I can take your order!" The cafe was small and quiet but still had some customers so it's not busy but not empty either. that earns two checks for Nahida's mental checklist.

"Well, what would you recommend?" You hummed pointing at the menu displayed above you and to the pastries available. "Well if you ask me, I like our [ favorite flavor of cake] and [ favorite type of coffee]" Nahida shifts her eyes to the pastries and the beverage available then something catches her eye. "Are the lattes with foam art available ?" She swore your eyes twinkle when she said that. "mhm!" you ring her up after telling her the price. "Anything else ?" you asked, handing back her change. "nope! that's all."

Nahida has found the perfect place.

For the next few days, Nahida would come to the cafe every day at the same time she made sure you were working. You two have grown fond of each other chatting as you tell you why you're working etc.

And after a few visits, Nahida concluded you would like Scaramouche! So yesterday she told you all about Scaramouche

"Well, my nephew is about 5'4 and about your age! he's a little stubborn but he means good!" you giggle at her description of her nephew "really now? He seems sweet. How about bringing him here one day ?"

And she took your words fast as the next day she brought in a boy around your age with indigo locks, and the most beautiful violet eyes you've ever seen, you cleared your throat as she and the boy headed to the counter and you never thought that her nephew could be this handsome! "Welcome back miss Nahida!" you turned your eyes to the boy who wore black head to toe "And I assume your my loyal customer nephew" you giggled as his cheeks began to glow red as he looked at you again. "yeah..im scara" he muttered avoiding eye contact, you only smiled at him as you asked for their order. Nahida ordered two lattes with foam art, by the looks of it scara wanted to argue but Nahida shushed him with one look. Scara said he'll sit down and as you rang them up Nahida wanted you to add a little of something else to one of the lattes

A few minutes later you head to their table to place their orders. "Hope you enjoy you two!" as you walked away scaras eyes followed you before snapping out of it and then looking at the drink Nahida ordered. "What do you think scara ?" Nahida asked him, smiling at the cute foam art you added. "I told you I don't like sweet–" observing the drink he brought it close to his eyes, seeing his design is a bit different from Nahidas seeing the cat blushing with a heart next to it. He felt himself getting hot again and gave you a glance who wasn't doing anything and caught his gaze and waved at him. Feeling embarrassed he turn his head again looking at Nahida who had a smirk on his face. Looks like he had fallen into whatever plan his aunt had in store for him.

a few moments later with a flushed face and a small(adorable) scowl, Scaramouche approached you

"Oh hey! Do you need anything else ?" you smiled at him. He looked back at Nahida giving him a thumbs up which he groaned and looked back to you and you gave him a puzzled look. "your number…" he mumbled. You blink at him a few times feeling yourself being hot but you asked him to repeat it because you don't trust your ears. "U-Uhm…repeat that please ?" You felt his purple eyes pierce through you making you gulp, did you make him mad? you thought. "I know you heard me, your number, idiot." your body perks up at his sudden cocky attitude change you stared at him with disbelief and he raised an eyebrow. "what? you asked if I need anything else and what I need right now is your number" Scaramouche didn't know where this surge of confidence came from but it was worth it to see your flustered figure trying to find a paper and pen to write it.

Maybe he will need to visit this place more.

#scaramouche x you #scaramouche #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader #genshin scaramouche x reader #scaramouche fluf #scaramouche x reader fluff #scaramouche imagines #genshin scaramouche #genshin imapct #genshin impact scara #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff

817 notes · View notes

barefoothighlander · 1 year

Text

mary on a cross - until it sleeps

-simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

-warnings: descriptions of violence, mdni, slight stalker!ghost, male masturbation, mentions of alcohol, unwanted male attention, mentions of smut

-word count: 4.5k

-summary: you've recently moved to manchester, while looking for jobs you come across a run-down pub looking for bartenders. upon meeting its owner simon, you find out there's more to him than meets the eye. mercenary au

next chapter fic masterlist

a/n: okay so the poll isn't over but this au was winning and I got too excited to write it.

Simon woke up to light peering in through the bedroom window, turning his head to glance at the woman that lay beside him in bed. It wasn’t rare that he went home with someone, usually some woman who had come to the pub alone and he ended up chatting with to kill time. To him, these hookups were simply a means to an end, an easy way to get rid of some stress, most times he’d sneak out of their flats before they woke up, praying they wouldn’t come back to the pub for some kind of confrontation, and they usually didn’t. The time spent with his hookups was almost the only source of sleep he’d get, spending his days at the bar and his nights on the streets or rooftops.

He gathered his scattered clothes from the floor quietly, hoping not to wake the sleeping woman whose name he couldn’t remember, carefully dressing and making his way to the front door, descending the stairs and walking out onto the streets of manchester. It was unusually warm for April, with barely a cloud in the sky, a welcome change from the constant rain that the city usually endured, the pub wasn’t far, maybe a couple of blocks, he’d shower when he got there, his own flat residing directly above the pub. The walk was short, Simon occupying his time by watching all the people wander the streets, going into shops or chatting together, he reached the pub, unlocking the door and heading up the steps to ready himself for the day.

You were utterly lost, the city streets a maze to you, you’d lived in the city for close to a month now but you spent most of that time unpacking and organizing your flat. It was modest, to say the least, the best you could afford, but it had a decent bathroom and kitchen, and you were determined to make it feel like a home. Decorating it with plenty of rugs and throw pillows, even having a small open cupboard designated to your collection of mugs, your building was mostly occupied by elderly people and their small dogs, you weren’t central to anywhere but there was a nice coffeeshop across the street which you frequented.

This morning you woke up in good spirits, determined to have a good day after the weeks of stress endured by your move and your ex-boyfriend, you had decided to make the move after finally breaking up with him, 4 years of your life spent being belittled by him and you finally got sick of it, choosing to put as much distance between you and him as possible, but you were running out of money, whatever you have saved up quickly depleting, so today, you had to find a job.

You had ventured to a handful of different shops around the city, giving your resume to anyone who would take it, hoping that one of them would call you back. Yours were exhausted and you heard your stomach start to grumble, facing forward you notice a small pub tucked between a flower shop and a boxing gym, deciding it was as good of a place as any to grab something to eat. Ushing through the heavy doors you’re met with the heavy scent of wood, cigarettes, and whiskey, setting yourself down on a stool at the bar, looking around for any sign of life. It was early but it also wasn’t rare to see a few people littering the pubs around noon. Calling out to anyone who might be there you turn your head at the sound of a door opening, standing up from your stool only to have your entire body freeze.

Your eyes locked on a large blonde man, he was wearing a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but he was massive, tall enough that you’d have to crane your neck to look at his face, his hair was damp, but what you notice first was the number of scars scattered over his arms, some shallow and some deep, all drawing your eyes to the large tattoo on his forearm, black and white but with a heavy amount of detail. Before you could make out any of the markings his deep voice rang through your ears.

“Can I help you love?”

You pull your focus to his eyes, they’re a deep colour in this light, as a smile pulls at your cheeks.

“Yeah, I was just wondering if you serve any food here?”

He shakes his head a little, staring down your form. “No, just drinks, sorry”

You don’t know why, but you feel inclined to stay here, even if it meant enduring an empty stomach.

“Any scotch?” you ask with a tilt of your head

He nods, urging you over to the bar, as you sit down he pulls out two glasses and a bottle of brown liquor.

“That’s bourbon,” you state

“I know, better than any scotch you’ll have in this town”

You laugh a little and he looks up to meet your face, smiling slightly to himself. He slides the glass over to you and you take a small sip.

“Not bad,” you say, he nods in agreement “So do you own the place?”

“Yea, bought it a few years back, needed something to do”

“And it’s just you that works here?”

“Most nights, sometimes I have a friend come and help out if there's a football game on, too many people for just me”

“So you’re looking for bartenders,” you ask, eyes widening

“Not particularly,” he says furrowing his brows oh. You bow your head a little and continue sipping on your drink.

“You new in town?”

You nod your head, “yeah, moved here about a month ago, need a job” you say as you huff a laugh to yourself.

“You don’t want to work here,” he says as you look up quirking an eyebrow, urging him to explain. “It’s a dingy old pub, always full of rowdy old blokes, not exactly a great position for a pretty young girl”

You smile, “I can take care of myself, I bartended in college, you should see some of the fights that break out during the Superbowl”

“Believe me doll, Americans are nothing compared to English folk,” he says, finishing his drink before placing the glass below the bar.

“C’mon, give me a shot, if I screw up you can fire me, I won’t be mad”

He stares into your eyes, thinking for a minute, weighing the options in his mind.

“We open at 1 and close at 3 am, can you be here tomorrow?”

Your face lights up and Simon can’t help but smile.

“Yes, I can,” you say, almost jumping from your stool. Simon nods his head.

“I’m serious kid, you mess up my pub and I will fire you,” he says, knowing in his head that it’s a lie.

You’re beaming with joy as you stand up and turn to leave. “I promise you won’t regret hiring me” Before you can leave he shouts over to you.

“Oi, I’m Simon by the way”

You turn and give him your name, and he smiles and waves you out. You practically skip out of the pub, making your way back to your flat, glowing with the joy of a successful job hunt. While Simon stands alone behind the bar, he can’t wipe the smile from his face, you’re just so different from anyone else who comes into the pub, like a physical ray of sunshine, a stark contrast to the environment he stands in. He finds himself repeating your name over and over while cleaning the bartop and preparing for patrons, he’s never felt that calm with someone before, usually keeping conversation to a minimum when people approach him, but you pulled answers from him so easily, he doesn’t know what it is about you that has him taking his guard down, but he’s sure it’s going to get him into trouble.

You wake up the next morning early, you don’t have to be at the pub till 1 but you want to get there early to get some sort of lay of the land, chucking on some denim shorts and a top you make your way, stopping first to grab a coffee for both you and Simon.

When you get to the pub you walk in and find Simon sitting at a table, flipping through papers.

“Good morning” you beam, placing the coffee infront of him, he looks up at you the down to the drink.

“What’s this?”

“Didn’t know what you liked, figured black was my best be” wrong

“I prefer tea” he states plainly as your smile falters a bit, “but thank you”

“Should’ve figured, people aren’t big into coffee here” you say, sitting across from him.

“You’re early” he says, turning his attention back to the pages

“Yeah I-” you stop for a second, looking at his arms, he has a bandage wrapped around his forearm and his knuckles are pink and swollen. Noticing your stare, he pulls his arms off the table to his side. “I just wanted to get a feel for the place before starting”

“Well there’s not much to it, pretty much everything in the front, extra of everything is kept in the back there, and the back stairs just go up to my flat”

“You live above the pub?” you ask

He takes a beat, “Yeah, makes it easy to get to work”

You giggle a little and he can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips.

“So you’ve bartended before?”

“Yea about 3 years total”

“Can you pour a pint?”

“Of course”

“Show me.” he gestures to the bar, you make your way behind it and grab a glass. Stationing yourself at one of the taps you begin to pour.

“That has to be the ugliest Guinness I’ve ever seen,” he says with a smile, you scoff in defence.

“Here let me show you” He scoots his body behind yours, eyes locked on yours. He grabs another glass and gives it to you, holding your hand as you grip the glass, mind suddenly fogging from the close contact. His hands are rough and large, they encapsulate yours. You can smell him, he smells clean, but there’s hints of cigarette smoke and amber. He grabs your attention by pulling the spout down, tilting your hand to hold the glass at a 45-degree angle before allowing the ale to fill the glass, turning it back upright before stopping the pour, letting it settle, then topping it off.

“There, that’s a proper pint,” he says, placing the glass down, chest still pressed to your back. You turn your head back to look at his face and he stares at you for a minute, then quickly breaks focus moving away from you. Chills cover your body at the sudden loss of contact.

“You should probably wear something a little less revealing as well,” he says, gesturing to your shorts “Men around here can get quite crude”

“It’s alright, I’m sure you’ll just beat up anyone who messes with me,” you say jokingly, but he would he’d do more than just beat them up, he nods and smiles in response.

The two of you fill the time making light conversation, it’s mostly you talking but Simon asks a lot of questions, he wants to know where you’re from, what you studied in college, why you moved here.

“Um, I just had to get away from a guy,” you say sheepishly, he nods in understanding and doesn’t pry more, but he can sense a hint of sadness in your tone when you talk about it.

“So what about you, why a bar owner,” you ask

“Left the military and needed money”

You laugh, “Seriously, that’s all I get”

He grins, “There’s not much to it, I served for over a decade and when I left everything was just so quiet, needed some excitement and I guess I got that in the form of old drunk men shouting at a football match”

A few minutes of silence pass, you continue cleaning tables, “what’s your favourite movie?”

“Huh?”

“Films, movies, what’s your favourite?”

“Uh, I don’t really watch movies”

“Come on, everyone has a favourite movie, it doesn’t have to be some super macho pick, just, what’s your favourite?”

“Only one I can think of is Harry Potter”

“You’ve seen Harry Potter?”

“Yea I took my nephew to see it a while ago”

“Awh thats sweet, do you see him often?”

His smile fades and he turns away from you, “No”

You bite your cheek at the feeling that you’ve overstepped. Finishing your cleaning in silence before the bar opens and people start to fill in. The night was busy, people in and out, constantly running around to bring drinks, thankfully Simon helps you out a lot, pouring drinks and dealing with most of the rude customers. By closing time you’re exhausted, your hair is a mess and your feet are sore. Setting yourself down in a chair after wiping all the tables, you watch as Simon cleans a few glasses, stacking them neatly behind the bar.

“So, am I getting fired”

Not a chance in hell, “no, you did pretty well” he says

You smile wide, turning to face the ground and blushing to yourself.

“Listen I’ve got some stuff to take care of, so you can take off now if you’d like”

“Oh no, I’ll help,” you say standing to move towards the bartop

“It’s mostly financial stuff, super boring”

“Oh, alright, well I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you say, smiling to him

“Yea, have a good night doll,” he says before turning back to his task.

You gather your things and start walking home, the streets are dark and few street lights guide your way. You still haven’t memorized the route and end up taking a few wrong turns, ending up in an unfamiliar alley, cursing to yourself you turn around before two dark figures come into your line of sight. You feel your breath hitch, quickly making your way out onto the street, you turn back and the men are facing you, picking up your pace, anxiety starts to flood your veins. You hear the men shouting something at you but the sound of blood pumping in your ears is too loud to make out what they’re saying, rushing your way down the streets, the men continue their pursuit. You stare ahead and continue, turning back when you notice their shouting has ceased, you stop in your tracks as the men have disappeared. Confused you look around, maybe they just gave up, you collect yourself and continue home, making it safely to your flat.

You set your things down and lock the door before stripping your clothes and entering your shower, taking your time to clean all the sweat and spilt liquor from your skin. Stepping out in a towel you walk into your bedroom, noticing your open window, you move closer and glance out the window, the alley behind your flat is dark, used mostly to hold dumpsters, but you swear you see the figure of a man leaning against a wall. Mind freezing you panic slightly, shutting the window and closing the curtains before turning to your dresser to pick out something to sleep in.

Simon stumbles into his flat at 4am, his body fatigued, stepping into his bathroom he glances at himself in the mirror, his face covered by his balaclava, only his eyes can be seen. He takes a deep breath collecting himself, before washing the blood from his hands and cleaning his cuts. His knuckles were raw and red, he wraps them loosely and sits on the edge of the tub. He had followed you home, he didn’t mean to but when he left the pub and noticed you taking a wrong turn he wanted to make sure you were safe. Following slowly behind you from the roofs of the buildings, he didn’t want you to see him and get scared, he never wanted to scare you. But when he noticed two men following you he couldn’t just stand by, quickly descending a fire escape to sneak behind the men, grabbing one by the throat and breaking his neck before removing the knife from his belt and placing his hand over the other man's mouth to keep him quiet, and stabbing him in the side of his neck. He pulled the two bodies into the nearby alley and positioned himself so he could see you. Making sure you got back to your flat safely.

He stood outside and waited to make sure you got in, he didn’t mean to watch as you undressed, it made him feel perverse, but he couldn’t find the strength to tear his eyes away, the way your breasts sat, the curve of your ass, he felt his pants tighten at the sight, quickly turning his gaze to anything that would distract him before, occupying himself with his own thoughts.

It was late, you were home and safe, he should’ve left, but something in him couldn’t, he looked back to the window only to find your towel-clad body staring back at him, he froze, there was no way you could tell it was him, his whole body was covered and it was dark. He watched you quickly shut the window, removing any sight he had on you, Simon huffs a breath to himself, a silent get-it-together, before leaving and making his way back to the pub.

The next morning you woke with a strange feeling, you couldn’t shake the sight of the man in the alley, you make your way to the window and pull back the curtains to look out. Exhaling a breath of course no one’s there, you shake your head, feeling foolish and start getting ready for the day. You had a few errands to run before work, some tidying, and a little bit of shopping considering you had barely anything to eat in your fridge.

You finished rather quickly, finding that you still had 3 hours before work to kill, you decide to explore the streets in the safety of the daylight. Finally figuring out the quickest route from your flat to the pub, and checking out a few of the small shops that scattered the streets. You engaged in small conversation with the vendors before checking your watch, 12:30, shit, you had to go, thanking the man at the coffee shop for your drinks you made your way to the pub.

You step into the pub but see no sight of Simon, calling out his name.

“In the back” you hear

Making your way to the back room you find Simon looking over inventory with a glass in his hand.

“Little early to be drinking no?”

“Not here it’s not”

You nod to yourself, extending your arm to hand him a hot tea.

“Didn’t know what you liked, just got some milk"

He looks up at you and reached over the accept the beverage before twisting to grab a few sugar packets behind him, dumping 3 packs into the drink. Your eyes widen at the sight.

“Never would’ve guessed you took that much sugar in your tea”

He laughs and shrugs his shoulders. The two of you exit the back room and situate yourselves across from each other at a table, both enjoying your drinks before you break the silence.

“So something really strange happened last night,” you say, Simon stops sipping abruptly, looking up to lock eyes with you, shit she saw me

You continue, “These two guys were following me on my way home and then I turned back and they were just gone” He doesn’t say anything, just keeps watching you.

You take a beat, “then I swear I saw this guy outside my window, but I don’t know, it was dark, was probably just tired or something” you say, shrugging your shoulders

Simon puts his drink down, trying to think of a response.

“Maybe, I mistake trashcans for people sometimes in the dark”

You laugh, “yea maybe”

He remains stoic, sipping his tea. The two of you finish your drinks and fall back into the same routine as the previous day, serving drinks, trying to mediate arguments between drunk patrons. Simon finds himself smiling while watching you engage in conversation with two men, you seemed passionate about what you were saying, throwing your head back in laughter at something one of them said before one of them places a hand on top of yours, Simon stops what he was doing and takes a step towards the 3 of you, stopping when he sees you turn to pour the man another drink. What am I doing, he feels so protective of you and he doesn’t know why, he’s known you less than a week yet he can’t keep his eyes off of you, he shakes the thoughts from his head and moves to the back room.

He spends a few minutes gathering extra liquor to replace what’s missing from the wall before he hears a glass shatter and you yelp, dropping the items and rushing to you he finds you standing over the bar sink, hand dripping blood.

“What happened?” he asks, hand reaching for yours, inspecting it before turning on the tap to run it underwater.

“Glass slipped, cut myself trying to catch it”

He scans your face for any signs of pain or worry but you’re composed, turning to the men in front of you, eyeing them over accusingly, you pull your hand from the water and reach for the medical kit beneath the bar.

“Here I’ll do it,” he says, holding your wrist in one hand whilst using the other to grab some gauze and wrap to dress the cut.

You chuckle to yourself, “Almost seems like you do this often” you comment watching how quick and precise he is with his wrapping.

“Yeah something like that”

He finishes wrapping your hand and you thank him.

“I’ll take over up here,” he says, nodding to you to move away from the bar, you oblige and occupy yourself cleaning up tables littered with empty glasses. The two of you close the bar early as there was barely anyone there by midnight, you offer again to stay back and help Simon clean but he refuses, telling you to go home and get some rest, so you do. Walking your route home on edge, anticipating any sort of unwanted follower but none come, the walk was short as you descend the stairs into your flat and once again prepare for bed.

Simon’s night wasn’t as simple, like the night before he had made sure you got home safe, thankfully this time he didn’t have to kill anyone, but he did find himself lingering at your window again, this time higher up on a set of stairs so that the darkness of the night concealed him. You had neglected to shut your curtains, whether it was ignorance or intention Simon didn’t care, not when he had a perfect view of your naked form, moving around your bedroom he watched as you put on some underwear and a loose t-shirt to sleep, silently wishing it was his clothes you wore to bed, he watched as you dozed off to sleep, sometimes jostling a little in your sleep. He found comfort in knowing you were safe, that he was the one to ensure your safety, before long he found himself getting a little tired, dropping down from his spot to make his way back to his own flat. Simon was no stranger to being awake for a long time, the military ensured that, and he used it to his advantage, easier to stake out a target when you aren’t dozing off, but something about your presence, it brought him peace, he found himself wanting to fall asleep, only to dream of you, your eyes, the way they crinkle a little when you smile that smile, it lights up your whole face, he can’t help but feel his body untense at the thought of your smile, always kind and warm, everything he wasn’t.

He made his way back to his flat without issue, stripping his clothes off before stepping into the shower, standing under the steady stream of warm water his mind wanders. Your face, the smell of your hair, your soft hands, he feels himself growing harder at the thought of your soft hands touching his body, he reaches a hand down to stroke at his length. Your body, the warmth of your skin against his, the curve of your ass, his mind continues as he begins pumping his hand along his length, small groans leaving his mouth. Your tits, how they would feel when he held them, how perfect they would sit in his large hands, rough hands teasing over your hard nipple, the moans you’d release, only for him. He braces his free hand against the tile wall, quickening his pace, he imagines all the noises he could make creep up from your throat, your whimpers, how you’d squeeze him when he told you how good you felt, how he’d make you scream his name while he buried his cock deep inside you. A strangled moan leaves his lips before he starts shooting warm ropes toward the floor of the shower, he takes a minute to collect himself, evening out his breathing. Fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking these things about you, not when you were so innocent and he was so corrupt, he needed you, craved you, but he couldn’t have you, if you knew anything about him you’d run away and he’d never feel your presence again. He’d be fine with never knowing your touch as long as it meant he got to keep you in his life, but God did he want to touch you, every time he saw you he had to fight the urge to press you against the nearest surface and plant kisses all over you, marking you as his.

He stepped out of the shower, turning on the news to try and distract himself from his thoughts only to see the reporter on his screen talking about how more bodies had been discovered in the streets of Manchester and how the police had no leads. He shook his head, he never feared being caught, not when he was so careful to remain unseen, but then, he had nothing to lose, now, he has you, he can’t won’t lose you, not to this, not to some immoral past time, he had to get more creative, the police can’t find any more bodies.

He lay in bed, watching the screen, feeling his eyelids grow heavier before turning to his side and drifting off to sleep. He’s woken abruptly to the sound of his phone ringing, he turns to check the time, 6am, he looks at the screen and answers the call.

“Hello?”

“It was you, I know it was you”

Shit

830 notes · View notes

cosmicanamnesis · 1 year

Text

everybody loves a coffeeshop au

[part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11] [read on ao3]

October 10th

The first time the cute metalhead came into the Waystation, Steve was on bar and didn't catch his name. His order wasn't complicated, but it was long. Three medium black coffees, one small London fog, a large half sweet vanilla latte with soy milk, and a small hot chocolate. He'd paid in cash, leaving the change in the tip jar, and left in a hurry balancing the drink carriers on top of each other. If it hadn't been in the middle of a rush, Steve would've run around the counter and offered to hold the door for him.

Fortunately for Steve, he came in the next day, at the same time, with the same order, and Steve was on register this time.

"And can I get a name for the order?" Steve asked, punching the drinks into the computer.

"Eddie," the man said.

"Awesome. We'll have that all at the end for you," Steve said with a smile. Eddie dropped his change in the tip jar and wordlessly walked away.

One of Steve's favorite parts of the job was getting to talk to beautiful people. Not everyone was, of course, but a few times a day a customer would come in with long curly hair or beautiful eyes or a charming smile and Steve would fall in love with them for thirty seconds and then usually never see them again and it was fine. It was fun. It was harmless.

Eddie had all those things, all the things Steve was a sucker for, but unlike all the others, Eddie kept coming back.

It took a month or so, but eventually everyone in the shop had either taken or made Eddie's order so many times that they all knew what it was and could start making it before he'd even reached the counter. Or rather, immediately abandon Steve and force him to make it.

It was fine with Steve, though. He didn't mind making long orders, and it gave him a chance to chat with Eddie, not that he ever did. If he were a little braver, maybe he would talk, maybe ask where Eddie works, maybe get the story on why he comes in alone every day to carry an entire office's worth of drinks out.

Maybe get his number.

But Steve wasn't braver, and instead of talking to him, he contented himself to just make the drinks and sneak glances whenever he could to admire the way Eddie's hair fell over his shoulders, the way his rings glinted and drew attention to his hands, the way he would sometimes stick his tongue out, just a little, if he was really absorbed in whatever he was doing.

Steve really wanted his number.

December 3rd

“Steve!” Robin yelled from the register. “Your boyfriend’s here!”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Steve huffed, but came up front anyway as the bell on the door chimed. “Hey Eddie. Usual?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Eddie nodded, handing Steve a wad of ones and fives. He dropped the change in the tip jar, like every day, and went to the end of the counter to wait. Steve watched him as he made the order. He wasn’t doing anything, just looking at his phone, but the cold outside had flushed his cheeks bright red and Steve couldn’t help but stare.

“Is it snowing out there yet?” he asked, putting lids on the plain coffees and popping them into a carrier.

“Huh? Oh, no. Is it supposed to?” Eddie seemed surprised that someone was talking to him, but he looked up anyway, slipping his phone back in his pocket.

“That’s what I’ve heard,” Steve shrugged. “Pretty much every old lady in here this morning has complained about their arthritis and the weather, so I just assumed.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie laughed, leaning on the counter. Steve wanted to listen to him laugh all day.

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Perks of the job, y’know? Never have to check the weather, just wait until somebody with a bad knee comes in.”

“I always thought that was a myth.”

“I dunno, man,” Steve shrugged again, sliding the drink carriers onto the counter. Eddie was smiling at him, wild curls framing his face. “They only had to be right a couple times to make me a believer.”

“Well,” Eddie said, carefully stacking the drinks on top of each other. “If it starts snowing later, I might start believing it too.”

Steve could’ve sworn Eddie winked at him on his way out.

“Oh my god, that was pathetic,” Robin said, reemerging from the back. “If you’re gonna flirt with him, just flirt with him. Is it snowing yet? Fuck off.”

“Wait, did Steve finally talk to that guy?” Chrissy, their assistant manager, poked her head out of the kitchen.

“Yeah, sorta,” Robin chided.

“I honestly don’t know what you see in him, Steve,” Chrissy said, bringing a tray of pastries up front to put in the case.

“What? What do you mean?” Steve crossed his arms.

“Nothing! Just… He’s kinda weird, isn’t he? Like, standoffish?” She looked to Robin, who nodded. “I mean, you do you, but…”

“Wait, is this why you guys always shove me up front when he’s here?”

The girls looked at each other and then at Steve.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Chrissy admitted.

“You’re the only one that doesn’t mind him, so… He’s your problem,” Robin agreed.

“Proud of you for actually working up the nerve to talk to him, though.”

“Yeah, even if it was just about the stupid weather.”

Sure enough, it started snowing within the hour.

December 30th, Afternoon

Robin had begged Steve to swap shifts with her so she could go on a date. Normally Steve was an opener. He liked it, because he was naturally an early riser and opening meant more time after work to get shit done. But she had begged, and she was his best friend, so even though taking her closing shift messed with his whole routine, he agreed to swap. Plus, it meant he would have all of New Year’s Eve off, and that was pretty cool too.

It also meant accidentally finding out where Eddie worked.

Steve lived close enough to the cafe to walk there, and the walk took him past places that were usually still closed when he came in in the mornings. Antique store, jeweler, boutique, boutique, hair salon, tattoo parlor…

Steve took a couple steps back and looked in the front window of the tattoo place. Eddie happened to look up from whatever he was doing at that exact moment and gave him a confused sort of look. Steve just smiled and gave Eddie a small wave before going back on his way.

Well, it could’ve been more awkward.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #i mean it wont be a ficlet when i'm done with it but w/e #stranger things #stranger things 4 #text

708 notes · View notes

theonevoice · 5 months

Text

Maggie's spelling mistake

Ok, I've just had a wild thought about this moment, that led many people to theorise that Maggie could be a demon in disguise, given that 1) everything is intentional in this show, so the accent on the "ugrency" detail cannot be meaningless, and 2) demons are repeatedly characterised, of all things, as being bad at spelling.

To be honest, I cannot bring myself to believe the "Maggie is a demon" theory, but I agree that the emphasis on her spelling mistake is weird and it very much looks like a hint.

And now I think I finally have a hypothesis that I like (not because it's plausible but because I find it funny) about what it could be hinting at.

Let me list a couple of premises first:

- we know that when Aziraphale and Crowley "do a miracle together" it ends up "working a little too well"

- we have evidence of animals brought back from death (the dove) and of people brought back from Hell (Mr Brown)

- we have the Nina Sosanya and Maggie Service recasting choice, that I was obviously very happy with but never really understood

So, when in s1 Aziraphale and Crowley meet Mary Hodges, former Sister Mary Loquacious, we see Crowley initiating the hypnosis miracle and Aziraphale "stepping in" and ending it.

He is not just reversing it, he is working within the perimeter of the "miraculous window" opened by Crowley and weaving in an instruction before closing it:

So here's the wild part: what if, upon meeting Crowley after eleven years, Mary Hodges, now successful business owner, was taken back to that fatal night of the Antichrist and her dream of "whatever you like best" got mixed with shreds of memories? What if the satanic order who clearly didn't appreciate her turned into an abusive partner who "never really liked her"? What if the assignment to go fetch some bisquits from the refectory turned into the idea of having a nice little coffeeshop full of sweets and cakes? What if the contact with "His Royal Excellency the American ambassador" caused said coffeeshop to be right in front of a certain bookshop that happens to be an Embassy to Heaven? What if Sister Theresa Garrulous, the only person who that night had showed Mary some validation (although only for a happy miscommunication incident), turned into a neighbour shopkeeper with a strong bond to her mother superior great-grandmother, who keeps coming back to her coffeeshop, over and over, to grab the superfluous child a cup of coffee and have a little friendly chat?

The unknown and unforeseen power of a miracle performed by both Aziraphale and Crowley, although not intentionally and only as a result of a partial overlap of miraculous actions, could have make Mary's dream actually and literally come true. So we are not seeing a funny casting choice, but two actual characters from s1 transformed by the accidental interference of an overflowing miracle and Mary's confused memory-dream cocktail.

But if Maggie was indeed Sister Theresa...

...that would mean that the miracle did not just magically get Mary/Nina a coffeeshop in Soho, it also brought back Theresa/Maggie from Hell. So her "ugrency" spelling mistake could be there not as a sign that she is a demon herself, but as the trace of a sort of demonic contamination, a bad-grammar-contagion either from her time as a satanic nun or from her eleven years in Hell after Hastur killed her.

And if this was the case, wouldn't it be convenient that the only person who can corroborate her family history is none other than Mr Fell, the one unknowingly involved in her comeback, possibly not even knowing himself that there never was any great-grandmother selling records in the corner of his bookshop in the Twenties?

So this:

this could literally be Mary's dream come true, where miss Hodges' entrepreneurial side was fused with scraps of Sister Mary's memories from the night of the Antichrist.

Of course, this could be just Neil Gaiman jokingly referring to Maggies Service's previous role as a satanic nun with demonic acquaintances, but where's the fun in choosing that interpretation when we can run wild with outrageous theories like this?

Also, I like to imagine Mr Brown inexplicably starting to make spelling mistakes all over his impeccable tax returns after his trip to Hell...

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens speculation #good omens thoughts #good omens theory #good omens maggie

103 notes · View notes

eddiemunsonw · 3 months

Text

All I want...

Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Summary: You weren't even thinking about him lately, when Steve asks you to help him chaperone at the school's Christmas Gala. You want to refuse, but you simply can't disappoint your teenage self.

CW/Disclaimer: No warnings I think? Just fluff. Or maybe I should warn that there's a little bit of a certain Mariah Carey song in there. I know some people have a passion to dislike that, so be warned!

Author's note: A Christmas fic? In February?? YES. Life got in the way, okay? Deal with it, it's still nice. I hope. If not, well. Eh.

Words: 4225

The fact that it was such a quiet Saturday at the coffee shop should have alerted you that something was bound to happen. Something weird. Something like your old classmate Steve Harrington stopping by and making a beeline for you instead of the register.

You hadn’t talked to Steve since you graduated, which was almost four years ago. To be fair, you had never really talked to Steve. Not unless he needed to borrow a pencil or wanted to check your notes (aka copy your homework). He knew you were smart, would tell you as such whenever he handed you your notes back. One time he even asked you for help with chemistry. That had probably been the day you talked to him the most. However, you were never friends. Just vague classmates, one who asked for favors and the other who people pleased her way through high school.

College had been in the plans, but instead you wound up working at the coffee shop for a summer job and decided that you liked the stability to save up for your own place. Besides, the work wasn’t terrible and you honestly had no idea yet what you wanted to do with your life. Your friends had all left for college several states away though and it had been a while since you had been chatting with someone your age, if you were honest. So the fact that Steve was currently talking to you not realizing you were very much not registering what he was saying? Not great. Expected though.

“Y/N?” Steve’s animated hand gestures faltered a little as you gazed blankly up at him.

“Sorry, I completely zoned out. You wanna order?”

“Uh… sure, why not,” he said hesitantly, as if he didn’t walk into the coffeeshop to get, you know, coffee. You both walked to the counter, each on one side and you turned on your heel to face him. You watched him expectantly and wondered what was up with him when he stared right back, instead of looking at the menu behind your head.

“Oh,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “uhh… coffee?”

“Just plain black coffee?”

“Sure.”

“Alright…”

Steve Harrington was acting strange and you didn’t know why. Trying not to dwell on it, you prepared his coffee and set it in front of him. He placed a couple bills on top of the counter without waiting for you to mention the amount, still seemingly distracted.

“So… The Christmas Gala at Hawkins needs chaperones. We’re having a massive shortage and it’s my problem now, apparently.”

The what now?”

“Don’t act like I’m suddenly talking gibberish, Y/N. The Christmas gala. They need chaperones.”

“Okay…? That sucks,” you said, unsure why he needed you to know all of this. Of course, you should have known better. He was the guy who came to you when he needed something, after all.

“It would suck a lot less if you’d chaperone with me,” he hinted, giving you his million-dollar grin. You barked out a short laugh, causing Steve’s brow to twitch in subtle confusion.

“Yeah, no thanks,” you told him followed by a chuckle. “Can’t you ask your girlfriend or something?”

What? You were just curious. If he had one. It’s not as if that stupid crush you had on him in high school which made you so inclined to share your work and pencils was still there. Pfft. Not at all. Why and how was he even prettier than he used to be?

“Uhh…” he gave you an awkward look, “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Oh.” Now why did that fill you with glee, huh?

“Please.”

Before you could respond, he was already walking around the counter, only giving you two seconds to back away as he took your hands in his.

“Please please please please please, I really don’t want to have to ask my ex.”

“Nancy?” Everyone knew about Nancy.

“No, she’s not even in town. No uh, another one. None of them, actually. It would be way too awkward.”

“And chaperoning with me, who you haven’t talked to for god knows how long isn't?”

“Huh? No. You’re my pencil buddy from high school! Nothing awkward about that? Come on!” He squeezed your hands for emphasis and gave you his best puppy eyes. Damn him.

“Also… why are your exes the only option? Surely you haven’t dated every—”

Steve gave you a look. It was both endearing and silly. So Harrington was still the same Casanova as ever.

“Oh come on?!”

“You know how I was in high school. I repeated a cycle of that when I just started teaching. Let’s just say some parent-teacher meetings are very awkward now.”

“Were they at least single?”

“Uh…”

“Steve!”

“To my knowledge?! I found out one wasn't during one of those blissful meetings. So yeah. You can guess how that went. Please, Y/N! You want me to go on my knees? I’ll do it, just say the word.”

When Steve was about to drop on his knees you quickly grabbed his arm to stop it and grimaced at the not so PG-13 thoughts that flooded your brain.

“No, no. No need. Fine. I’ll do it. On one condition.”

Stop it, brain. Don’t say it.

“Anything.”

DON’T.

“One dance.”

For fuck’s sake. You cursed your brain for not being on the same level as you.

“Oh, uhm, sure? Is that all?”

He sounded genuinely surprised and you regretted asking for a dance already. How pathetic were you, feeling the need to satiate your teenage self to get a dance from the one and only Steve Harrington?

“And you better have alcohol somewhere.”

“Naturally. Preferences?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure out something nice.”

Steve nodded and finally let go of your hands. Suddenly your hands felt way colder than they had before.

“Alright then… I’ll see you this Friday? Oh and, well I guess you know there’s a dress code.”

“Any theme? Wait… this Friday?”

“Uh, yeah! This Friday. Theme is Gatsby, I think. But any fancy dress will do. Or suit, if that’s your thing. My best friend Robin likes to—”

The bell above the door interrupted whatever Steve was going to say and he gave you a small nod as a bunch of teenagers walked in for a hot chocolate. After a small wave, Steve left through the door right before shouting “See you Friday!”, his coffee long forgotten.

Friday. You should have just said no. A loud sigh escaped through your firmly pressed lips when you eyed yourself in the mirror. The dress was nice, it was just… you’d gained some weight. It fit differently than it did the last time you wore it. Even though it still looked good, it was super flattering in fact, you couldn’t help but worry over what Steve might think. As if he would care. There was no way he cared even the slightest about what you looked like. He never expressed any interest in you and he never would and honestly? That was for the best. You two were way too different to work anyway. At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself. It was easier to shut these things down before they had a real chance to flourish in your mind.

Your decision to walk quickly became something you cursed your past self for as you felt your feet tire out. You weren’t even wearing the highest, thinnest of heels in the slightest, but you were used to your flat sneakers, so it was still an adjustment. As you made your way towards the school, you saw more and more fancy cars pass you by. It somehow made you feel like you were going to prom ten years late or something, with the way you were dressed.

The school was nicely decorated in a classic Christmas theme. Several Christmas trees filled up the hallway leading towards the gym. In true Hawkins Tigers fashion, the greens were decorated with ornaments and ribbons of gold. As you made your way down the hall you noticed that they even put some mistletoe here and there. The kids that passed you gave you weird looks, some mumbling to each other something along the lines of ‘who is she?’, while others simply gawked. Oh well. You arrived at the front where you could leave your coat, but there was no sign of Steve just yet. His laughter found you before his appearance did.

You recognized that type of laugh. It was the one he used when he was talking to a pretty girl. Why you knew this beat you as well. His voice grew louder and suddenly he appeared in the doorway. He was looking behind him, probably still talking to the woman that caught his interest, until you subtly cleared your throat. As his head turned, you noticed a slight widening of his eyes, before his grin followed and he approached you.

“Y/N! You made it!” he said happily, halting in front of you as he put his hands on your arms. “Again, thank you so much for this.”

You were certain he had already discarded his blazer somewhere, leaving him with just his black silk shirt and dark green dress pants. He looked absolutely beautiful, his hair neat in a boyishly styled kind of way. Playful yet suave.

“It’s my pleasure,” you said, though you could tell by his subtle snort that he didn’t believe you and honestly, neither did you. Yet, you wouldn’t have wanted to miss how he looked tonight for the world. His hands brushed down your arms and moved away just before they would reach your hands.

“Right, so, basically… the party’s in there, we look at young love blossoming and stuff and enjoy ourselves.” He waited a beat and then extended his arm towards your waist. “Shall we?”

You were surprised by his gallant way to guide you inside, considering you wouldn’t expect him to want to be seen with you like that. It was nothing, not really, but…

“So, turns out one of my exes is here. One I didn’t really end it badly with, for once,” he snorted dryly and gave you a painful smile as you met him with a near eye roll. “I was thinking… Maybe this is like destiny or some shit, right? I went out of my way to get someone else and yet there’s still an ex…”

Your eyes landed on all the women your age one by one until a blonde caught your attention.

“Let me guess… it’s the blonde over there?”

Steve made a funny face and nodded.

“Yup. Shelly. Looking as amazing as ever.”

You were nodding before you realized you were and sighed to yourself. As your eyes wandered, they landed on the table with drinks. Right, alcohol. You could use some of that.

“So… did you bring any?”

Steve grinned and looked around the room. “It’s in my blazer which is… somewhere. I’ll go find it.”

As he passed you, he gave your waist a gentle squeeze and you wished it didn’t give you so many butterflies. The kids seemed to look so much younger nowadays. It didn’t make you feel old, just not really accomplished in life either. Steve took quite a while, so you decided to leave your spot and wandered around the gym as you slowly tried to remember the kids’ faces. Something to keep you occupied. Just as you turned your route towards the entrance, you spotted Steve. Ah. The blonde, Shelly, was laughing way too hard as her hand landed on his arm. You doubted it was that funny. Not wanting to be too focused on him, you decided to turn your gaze away in search of a seat. The bleachers would do just fine. You made your way to the top, giving you a good overview of the room. The kids were dancing together adorably and from the looks of it no one was really left out, which made you feel a little warm inside. The music made you tap along with your heel subconsciously, so lost in thought that you didn’t even hear the stomping of Steve coming up the bleachers.

“Jeez, there you are! I’ve been looking for you!” he said, a little out of breath for some reason, which felt a little uncharacteristic for this sporty guy in front of you.

“Oh? Were you?” you asked with little emotion as you looked up at him. He frowned and quickly sat down next to you so you didn’t have to crane your neck any longer.

“I was getting the booze, remember?” he mumbled. You snorted as he uncovered it from under his blazer which he was carrying and handed it to you.

“Couldn’t let the kids see,” he explained as he heard your subtle reaction. You nodded in agreement and opened the flash, taking a gentle whiff of it.

“No poison?” you asked, side-eyeing him. Steve chuckled and then shrugged.

“Alcohol is kind of poisonous in a way, isn’t it?”

“I guess. So is life.”

Steve laughed softly. “So dark, jeez.”

When you barely gave him a hint of a smile, he nudged you.

“Hey, you good? Sorry if I was too pushy about asking you to chaperone, maybe I should’ve—”

With a quick head shake you dismissed him and smiled softly.

“No, it’s alright, my mood has nothing to do with that, I promise.”

“Then what… is it? Did something happen?”

You felt like an idiot for being jealous of Shelly. For being envious that his attention was on her and not you. As if you had any right to be jealous! It made no sense at all. You weren’t here as his date, you were here as his last resort. The sincere worry in his eyes made you hate your feelings even more. Who knew that being in the same room with Steve Harrington for the second time in a week was enough to rekindle your stupid crush on him.

“No, nothing happened,” you said with a soft sigh and then took a big swig of the flask before handing it back to him. Steve took a swig as well but never removed his eyes away from your face.

“Well, if you’re sure…”

He rested his arm against yours, shifted closer into your space even. After a moment, he nudged you gently.

“See those two? They’ve been dancing around each other in class for a year now. You can see they’re into each other, but neither of them dared to do anything about it. He asked her at last. It’s adorable, isn’t it? Those little shy smiles…”

The kids were adorable indeed, and so was Steve as he looked at them with the softest smile, almost proud. He probably was. While you were distracting yourself by focusing on the kids, Steve casually dropped his hand on your knee. You figured it was accidental, but then he started to caress you gently and you wondered if maybe he had had more alcohol before you arrived. You knew it meant nothing.

“So, about that dance—”

“So you and Shelly, huh?”

You both laughed as you had spoken up at the same time, though Steve’s brows quickly formed a frown when he registered your words.

“Me and Shelly?”

“Yeah. Any rekindling there? I saw how she looked at you. You looked like a couple of highschool sweethearts.”

“Oh, uh…” Steve chuckled awkwardly and removed his hand from your knee simultaneously. “I don’t know. She said it was good to see me, that was about it. Her kid’s gonna transfer to Hawkins soon.”

“Oh, that’s great! You’ll be seeing more of each other then,” you said with a smile, forcing yourself to be happy for him. It was better than to wallow in self pity at a kid’s dance.

“I guess… yeah. Anyway, I—”

“Steve!”

An older woman called for him, probably a colleague, so Steve had to excuse himself. He left the booze and his blazer with you and told you he’d be back. You doubted it. Shelly was already making her way back to him already the moment she caught him in her peripheral vision. It was so obvious she was trying to get back with him. Your eyes went back to the kids Steve pointed out earlier and you smiled when the girl rested her head on his shoulder. Who knew, maybe they’d become highschool sweethearts. You took another swig of the flask, swirled it around your tongue and swallowed to let it burn down your throat. Time got lost on you as you watched the joy in front of you. Most of the teachers were dancing too now, doing a neat job of multitasking while they chaperoned and watched for any illegal activities. Your eyes met Steve’s as he finally managed to get away from what seemed to be an endless conversation, and he tilted his head to the side, beckoning you to come.

With only some slight reluctance, you made your way downstairs. You had momentarily forgotten about Shelly, considering she had gone elsewhere when the older woman kept Steve occupied, until she suddenly stood next to him again. Somewhere between you minding your step down the bleachers she had managed to get all back up in his personal space. Hand on his chest, a flirtatious shoulder nudge… yeah. And Steve didn’t seem to mind.

So, instead of making a total fool of yourself, you approached him, arms outstretched so you could hand him back his blazer, and left him together with Shelly. You even managed an encouraging smile, which honestly gave you a bitter aftertaste. Steve’s eyes followed you out the gym, Shelly’s words falling on deaf ears as his own thoughts were too loud. Had you looked back, you might have seen the concern on his face, mixed with a layer of guilt.

As you disappeared through the doors, a slow song started up behind you. With a wry smile you made your way to the bathroom, which was around the corner on the left way down the hall. The music was loud enough to hear still, though it gave a somewhat melancholic echo, which actually fit your current mood quite well. It was fine, though. You just had to survive a couple more hours and then you and Steve would never be in the same room again and you could go back to pretending your crush on him ended with high school. With the slow song in the background, you took your time in the bathroom to make sure that by the time you went back, the upbeat music had hopefully returned. You weren’t in the mood to see him dance with someone else. After washing your hands two times (you had zoned out so much you forgot about the first time), you finally left the bathroom, only to be met with a pair of hazel eyes that could be mistaken for brown in the darkness of the hallway.

“Oh, uhm, hi?” you said, a little confused. Steve was leaning against the wall across from you, arms crossed, one leg up. His thigh looked deliciously meaty like that but… That. Was. Not. The. Point.

“Hey. You keep disappearing on me,” Steve said, sounding slightly accusatory.

“That’s not fair, I waited quite a while up there,” you shot back, giving him an easy smile.

“Yeah… Ms. Tracy always has a dozen stories to tell, I honestly don’t even remember what she called me down for in the first place. Anyway, no, I meant, when you came down. You suddenly just dropped my blazer off and went? I was hoping you’d be back in time to catch a part of the slow dance song but… no sign of you. So I went to look.”

“Ah, I just didn’t want to interrupt you and Shelly, if I’m honest,” you tried to say as casually as possible.

Steve frowned and pushed himself off the wall. He hung his blazer over the radiator and took a few steps towards you. You felt the heat radiating off his body and inhaled purposefully slowly to prevent yourself from gasping. He smelled really good, too.

“What’s the deal with you constantly mentioning me and Shelly as if there’s anything happening?” he asked, tilting his head in confusion.

“I mean… You were the one talking about destiny. I thought I would only be in the way.”

Steve snorted and shook his head.

“Oh come on, I just meant that I can’t escape my exes. I was just grateful it wasn’t someone that hated my guts,” he said with a soft chuckle, shaking his head once more.

“She sure doesn’t,” you mumbled dryly. Steve smirked and narrowed his eyes at you.

“Wait… are you jea—”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” you quipped, nervously and a little agitated. Steve’s smile only grew wider as he closed the distance between you two.

“Oh you are. Is that why you asked for a dance?” he asked as he gently took your hands in his, which you could only comply with, “you… like me, or something?”

“Or something. I think I could actually strangle you about right now…”

“Hm? Why’s that?”

It wasn’t really a question.

“You look way too smug for your own good.”

Steve laughed and dropped one hand to your waist, shaking his head.

“Nah, I’m just relieved it’s mutual. I really thought you were pushing me in Shelly’s direction because I had misread everything and you wanted nothing to do with me. Like, I put my hand on your leg and you brought her up instantly!”

“I was panicking! I didn’t want to get my hopes up!”

In the background, “All I Want For Christmas Is You” started playing. Steve slowly started to nudge your hips, helping you sway along with him as he pulled you against him. His smile grew softer, his touch gentler, his eyes calmer, though still a little mischievous. He opened his mouth.

“I don’t want a lot of Christmas…”

“You’re not serious,” you whispered with a soft chuckle. Steve nodded vigorously, grinning again.

“There is just one thing I need…”

You just let it happen. You couldn’t stop him, you didn’t want to stop him. He looked so pretty, so cute, so handsome as he softly sang the words to you. It was more of a low, rumbled whisper. It was perfect.

“I don’t care about the presents… underneath the Christmas tree…”

His hand dropped from your waist so his other could turn you in a gentle spin, after which he deftly caught you in his arms, your back flush against his chest. You felt his heart beating fast, not at all as calm as he made himself seem.

“I just want you for my own… More than you could ever know…”

His hand came up to push your hair to one side as his lips gently brushed the exposed part of your neck. You shivered pleasantly, craning your neck as you rested your hand on top of his around your waist.

“Make my wish come true…”

His lips deliberately pressed soft kisses along your neck now, accompanied with pleasant hums that left him. He was driving you insane.

“Steve…”

Steve shook his head, needing to finish the bit.

“All I want for Christmas… is you…”

A kiss right below your ear.

“Can I, Y/N? Can I have you?”

You wanted to turn your head to look at him but he quickly rested his chin on your shoulder so his hair would shield most of his face from you.

“Steve, I—”

“Please reject me quickly if you’re gonna do it,” Steve muttered, his voice muffled. You wondered what was going on in his brain for him to think you’d let him kiss your neck like that if you weren’t the slightest bit interested. Had you not just confessed earlier? A chuckle escaped you.

“Don’t be silly. I’m just— confused, I guess? When did you… Is this, when?”

Steve sighed, making you turn around in his arms slowly so he could face you.

“We didn’t need chaperones at all, as you may have noticed. I just… the past few dates I’ve been on were such disasters, and I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while now but I felt like I would fuck it up with a date somehow? I don’t know. And then this came up… and I thought maybe I could show more of me, in a different setting? But then everyone and their mother interrupted me all the time and you encouraged it too so I thought all hope was lost until you let me kiss your neck I guess. Am I rambling? I am rambling. God I spent too much time with Robin and Eddie.”

“Steve,” you said softly, smiling up at him.

“Yeah?” His smile matched yours, hopeful, yet still unsure. Who knew that someone like Steve Harrington could be insecure? I mean, of course, it happens, but… it was a surreal sight to witness.

“You can have me.”

Steve’s grin had never been wider.

“Oh— Good. I’m gonna kiss you now.”

And true to his words, he cupped your cheek gently with his big, warm hand, and settled his soft lips onto yours for a sweet, Christmas kiss. Hell, you didn’t even need a mistletoe.

If you enjoyed reading this, please know that comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :) Likes are lovely but sadly do nothing to spread the fics around! Help your favorite writers (not saying me - in general) out like that so you can continue to enjoy consuming the free work they put out, it's a win-win.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fanfics #joe keery

67 notes · View notes