Adm. Monster Hunter @huntsmen-united - Tumblr Blog

That was one of the most dreadful phrases for underpaid baristas all over the globe. Especially when spoken out of the mouth of someone who clearly had too much money to have to settle for a shitty cafe like this one. His voice was level, carrying authority… but oddly soft. Like, even when upset, he was used to working with something skittish. Maybe a farmer, or a hunter.

Judging by the insignia on his coat it was rather obvious which he was.

"Well? Is no one going to fess up?"

The angel, yes, angel, had fluffy blonde hair. That strawberry kind that picked up ever so slightly red in the light. It was littered with the pigmentation one might see in a man going grey, well, hiding that he was going grey. Thick streaks of silver and occasional lines from bleach. his stubble was lined with those little salt and peppers, clearly growing in a beard too fast to hide the lack of colour on his face. His bangs framed sharp dark brown eyes that despite his annoyance didn’t hold a glare. Actually he had that assholeish grin you get from smart guys, fangy smile accentuating the lines contouring his face brought on by age.

His wings were … huge. Impressive, intimidating thing. Many angel or avian species would find ways to bind them so that it didn’t disrupt others. The blonde in front of them however saw no point in that. The limbs connected to his back stretching out behind him as he tapped his hand waiting, knocking over a nearby flimsy stand that was advertising a new drink that was available for a limited time.

"This isn’t what I ordered."

Unfortunately Bear had left the backroom just in time to find out the business man was looking for them. Their coworkers face souring as he ranted about how he ‘didn’t understand what was so difficult about getting a drink right’.

The other couldn’t help but notice…

A girls name was on his cup. He’d picked up the wrong order by accident. The one THEY made.

uh oh.

- 🍷 ( @huntsmen-united )

It just so happened that Bear, or well, [----], from the hastily done pin on their apron strings was just getting off work. Most of the time, they'd handle the transitionary closing shift for when BRING ME COFFEE OR BRING ME DEATH would prepare for the influx of customers that were sure to come in the night, and so when the store was arguably at its busiest in the one hour of rest, there always happened to be let's say, unpleasant closers who barged in and made everything worse for everyone.

This customer was one of those people.

Wow. Big customer. Bear had to swallow past the lump in their throat that appeared once he was looming over the counter with those wings of his. It's almost terrifying how large he was while going on ranting about "basic drink making skills" and pointing to the "20 year anniversary" board to ask about "if you've even learnt anything in that time." Most customers were hard to calm down. But Bear had a strategy nailed down: offer a free drink, grovel and beg and bow a few times, and wipe the sweat off your brow after the customer leaves with a grumble. It's natural that a species such as them was accustomed to dealing with larger, more irritable predators, what with their history of scraping by life's offerings for basic survival, but in this coffee shop, the counter was a battle they were more than well equipped to win. And by God they will win.

First, however, they tuck their employee pin into their pocket. Just so he wouldn't get any ideas and threaten to call the manager on them. Manager, being them. But, there was no harm in being cautious. Compared to the displeased customer, Bear's presence had the sense of someone desperately trying to blend into the background. In their black shirt and their chestnut brown work apron, they stood at a much shorter height, barely reaching the angel's shoulder as they took the counter, shoulders surprisingly broad for one of their stature.

Dark brown eyes that crinkled with age stare up at the man under even darker black bangs that fall across their face so neatly, you'd think the mess was part of their disguise. Instead, they look at his eyes (which seemed to have softened?) with a confident neutral customer service expression, only made more successful with the lack of life in their face whatsoever. It'd be concerning if he wasn't more focused on the drink. The only thing that disrupts this clandestine sequence is the slight bump in their nosebridge that peeks out before continuing straight down.

A quick glance at his drink does give them a crack in the mask, dread coloring their face as they realize that he's holding what is in fact, their drink. Which was a recipe that they were not selling today. Oh no. Employee privilege. Actually they can't let anyone know about this.

"Good evening Sir. I'm so sorry to hear about your drink, could I have your name and order number to reconfirm what you were promised?"

huntsmen-united

"Yeah I’m sure you’re sorry you —"

….

“You uh.."

oh my god. They are so pretty. Some people might be ashamed to think that, yet damn, he was just at a loss for words. Raphael knew his taste was sort of fucked, he thought his boss was hot after all and he was a tentacle monster, but this was its own battle. The way the sun hit their eyes was reminiscent of Amber, dark jets of hair framing them like curtains does an equally stunning window view. The man didn’t know where to look, face flushing ever so slightly before his eyes settled on their chest.

"Order, er, number 042… Malt Chocolate Special with almond milk ‘nd.. extra whip cream."

Gah! Why did he say that! He didn’t know much about how to be charming but those pick-up artist he watched said to never act emasculate around a women! They’ll lose interest immediately if you aren’t the natural leader of the pack! It’s biological! Science proves it! However… that pin … maybe it was different with non…nonbinaries? Is that the plural? maybe they’s aren’t prone to the same biological urges for an alpha.

Or maybe they are and he blew it. fuck. he went to smile at them, relieve some building anxiety, but he felt his fangs against his gums. He was too monstrous, he’d scare them away. After a quick flash of teeth he closed his mouth, letting his lips drift into an indifferent, ‘cool’ expression.

“It was too sweet, like a bioweapon in all honesty. Did … Did you make it, uh, ma'a—sir—" quick think of a gender neutral term! "—dollface?"

Was dollface gender neutral? There was boy dolls and they dolls, right?

“I was ‘promised’ something edible."

nothingofnotetomention

Surprisingly, all this angel's bite dropped out of him the moment they settled in front of the counter and just so happened to give him one look. Bear would have been happy about this change of events if they weren't utterly confused by how quick the man's countenance changed from ego-pushing arrogance to shy and bashful as if he was a Victorian who'd just been flashed an ankle. Though, from their time with the Tudors, Bear didn't really see what the big appeal was with those old bones anyways. Men usually lost their cool for two reasons: 1) being out of embarrassment due to being usurped by their colleagues, or 2) a pretty woman was around. Though, as Bear looks around, none of their colleagues were in view. Hm.

He's awfully fidgety too, hands picking at each other in some sort of anxious tic while his fangs (fangs?) peek through, though interrupted by a deep breath where that nervous smile was pulled back into a deadset expression. Bear would be disappointed if they weren't grappling with the complex problem of what exactly he was so anxious over. I mean, there weren't any pressing threats like giant predators looming over his throat or mean bosses about to yell at him, so why was he so scared? He trips over his words when from the back they'd heard him flow so nicely, but fumble in the face of them? Could he be scared of them? They specifically chose to be short to prevent this! AH!

Bear looks up at him again, checking his order against the lone drink left on the counter that was signed for a particular "Raphael", but furrows their brows when he starts rambling about how sweet their drink was. Bioweapon... Of course it was sweet, it wasn't meant for you! Though, with what he ordered, there was a bit of a surprise at the fact that he'd noticed any difference at all. That drink wasn't known to be ordered by men who wanted to look cool and intimidating. It had whipped cream on the top! Men hated that! Though perhaps it was in line with how fluffy he looked, humanoids rarely subscribed to one ideal of appearance. Maybe it was on them for judging.

"Alright. It seems that your order is actually right here." They hand it to him. Trying not to think about how big his looked in comparison. "There's no need to worry sir. Your drink was mixed up with another employee's."

Wait.

Did he call them dollface?

Oh... for some reason that nickname made them feel embarrassed to be in his vicinity. They could hear gossiping from the backrooms, though right now they were focused on dissecting the curious feeling that had settled in their chest. There was something about this angel. They swear.

huntsmen-united

"Employee? ah… someone copying my style? Didn’t know I had fans like that.”

The angel fake laughed outloud, a dramatic ‘hah hah’ following. He brushed his hair out of his eyes, watch on said wrist shining in the light as he did so. Honestly, the barista was right to question his appearance. It was completely alien to what they usually saw from the clientele at BRING ME COFFEE OR BRING ME DEATH. Wearing a thick, deep brown tweed jacket that framed his muscular form, a dark red velvet waistcoat helping shape his chest (which’s button was undone, did he know that?). And finishing the look with a shiny little bolo tie. A pale hand went to said cord, throat bobbing as he tightened it.

"That wouldn’t have happened to be you, was it?

Something about the fact that they hadn’t walked away was giving him confidence. A very unfortunate thing, to be flirted with by Raphael.

"That would be convenient, hm?"

His wings fluttered nervously behind him. Coincidentally the second he tested his correct drink he’d accidentally pushed over a wastebin near the side counter he was currently leaned against. Retracting the things to press against his back, now fumbling to clean up his mess.

"God, nothing is nailed down in this place. ew, does anyone take out the trash ‘round here?"

THAT WAS THEIR JOB, NOOO! WAS HE AFTER THEIR JOB????? DID HE WANT THEM FIRED??? :(

Despite his over the top jerk persona he wasn’t a complete heartless bastard. He crouched, legs flexing in a way that stained against his dress pants to show off his build. Careful to not get any dirt or muck on himself he shoddily picked up garbage, face momentarily bitter from the disgusting texture of dirty coffee cups. His demeanour changed however when he saw the other enter his line of sight again, smiling lazy before getting up and dusting himself off.

"See. M' a good boy and clean up my messes. Now, doll if you could just be good yourself and get me a discount or free drink comp. I’ll be on my way. Real emotional damage from that drink of yours, totally traumatic. I could sue yknow."

nothingofnotetomention

"It's a very popular drink, sir." It was! They weren't even lying this time! It was the top order when the heatwaves rolled around. Bear had never seen so many people stumble into the air-conditioned cafe with loud complaints about how warm it was, or the collective sighs and groans of relief when they'd sipped on their iced drinks of choice. They never understood why everyone was so upset about the heat. If you asked them, it was the cold that had real bite.

Customers always laughed at things that were mysteriously out of their knowledge to what was considered funny. What this customer was laughing at was one of many. Honestly, Bear was baffled at this interaction in more ways than one, unfortunately letting this confusion show through on their face in the form of furrowed brows and pursed lips. This incredible grandstanding wasn't at all surprising considering his overall appearance and general countenance, but it begs the question for where his uncharacteristic bashfulness fit in whenever they'd accidentally meet his eyes and he'd shut right up. They'd taken to wringing their apron strings in their gloves hands as they try to examine him once more.

He was obviously of higher status, what with how thick his tweed jacket was with the shine of that velvet waistcoat, but what stood out to Bear was how ill-fitting his entire getup was. Did he know his shirt was unbuttoned? It was already bad enough that they could see puffs of feather fluff sticking through the openings (how indecent...), but what was even more surprising was that he didn't wear any sort of undershirt? What was his goal, really? His chest was so puffed out and his voice was so loud as if he was trying to maintain their attention in any sort of way, akin to how male birds court their mates with distracting plumage and attention-grabbing dances. Though, Bear wasn't a bird, were they? He's so... perplexing. But Whatever he was doing wasn't conducive to attraction, they figure, because as he tips over a trashcan with his wings, Bear found more annoyance building in their throat than anything else.

"Convenient? How so?" Did he think they specifically timed their drink order for him to pick up? How would that even work! What was he trying to say? That they were trying to steal his drink? They didn't even like almond milk... They lean over the counter to watch him surprisingly pick up what he's spilled over, but tilt their head at his lazy little smile once he realized they were watching. Weird...

Somehow he's already at the counter again, leaning into their every word like whatever they were saying was gospel. But really, they were just looking at their timesheet. "Um. Since your drink was to your taste I don't see a reason for any complimentary offerings, sir. Or any discounts for that matter."

Bear tries to be nice but the way he was talking really ticked them off. Why would he get a free drink if he already had his? He's the one who picked up the wrong one.. after insulting theirs too.. Hmmm... They've never been dissatisfied with customers that weren't outwardly antagonizing, but whatever this man was doing was really challenging their positivity first approach to everything.

huntsmen-united

"it’s a matter of principle. What if I drank something I was allergic to - I could’ve died! Not to mention you’ve all wasted my time."

Time he chose to waste complaining about this drink. Is he even real? It was hard for Bear to tell the validity of what this guy was saying. He was very, overwhelmingly cocky. Talked in that way where you could tell he was so full of himself… and yet, he couldn’t look them in the eyes. Currently opting to look at the side, now interested in the sign behind the brunette that held the specials.

Raphael didn’t know what to do. Usually the pieces sort of fell into place. He sees someone pretty, he walks up to them, they think he’s so so cool, and they end up at his place. Sure they usually make him buy a few drinks first or take a drive around in whatever car he brought but… he was a hot commodity! People wanted him! Smoking hot hunk with loads of cash, a charming personality, and total alpha male pheromones that made chicks compelled to talk to him! He’d want himself! Yet this was different. The angel didn’t want a quick hook up or those little desk weights his old boss would bring to the office. He wanted to talk with them. They had this soft smile that was intoxicating for him. When he saw them walk over his heart STOP! Fuck they were completely adorable! gah, how does someone ask someone for that.

"I, well…"

Raphael was going to try some smooth pickup line. Those usually worked. However when their eyes locked suddenly the words were stuck in his throat. WHAT IF THEY SAID NO. In a blur of colours his wings covered his face. A few feathers flying in the air from how fast he moved in the open area. Voice now muffled from fluff he simply put down a simple tip of 50$ 'for the troubles' and grabbed his drink.

"—Never mind."

The man found himself sitting at the far end of the cafe. Wings still protecting his flushed face as he scrolled on his phone through his emails. Mostly work related… anything to distract himself. Maybe if he sat here long enough he’d figure out what to say. God, is this how normies felt? Humiliating. He almost felt bad for Lt. Doberman now.

What a weirdo.

nothingofnotetomention

Bear was lost for words. Honestly, they expected this interaction to go over quite differently since most men of his cadence argue until they begrudgingly hand over the complimentary drink or discount, and though that's where they thought this was headed, said customer just. Immediately folded after one measly sentence of protest. He refused to meet their eyes either, widening in surprise when they locked gazes before flitting around to focus on anything but them— oh no. Was there something on their face? Did he realize they were annoyed at him?

The man seemed to be struggling with an invisible battle known only to him as he nervously looks around, stature somehow much more smaller despite the fluttery noises of his wings puffing up whenever Bear so much as opened their mouth to ask him any reconfirmation. Losing all of that cocky self-confidence to then nod quietly, start, and then falter before pulling out his wallet to fish for a single 50 dollar bill before running away in a flurry of feathers. Their mouth still stayed open in shock, gears turning in their head while they manually close it. There's something off about this dude. While this happened, the gossiping from behind the counter suspiciously dies down.

Bear turns around, drink in hand, only to be ambushed by their eclectic coworkers. Who immediately dragged them into the employees-only room so they could go on their "post-customer-douchebag briefings" as they so ehm.. vulgarly called it. Though at this point in time they had their own amount of questions to throw in the ring rather than being a silent observer.

Ronnie, short for, actually they don't know, is the first to speak, red hair glinting against the warm light as her ponytail swishes, circular glasses dipped low on her nose. "HE LIKES YOU." Hands on their shoulders, shaking them just a little bit, while Jer, short for Jeremy, short for Jeremiah (though he never liked them calling him that), hisses out a "SHH. HE CAN HEAR YOU." His hair's adorned with beads color-coded to the day, septum ring peeking out from his nostrils as he pushes them up to hide.

"HUH??"

"Dude did you see the way he looked at you. He basically choked when you came up in front."

"Ohhh it's nice to have pretty privilege."

"HUHHHHH?????"

huntsmen-united

Raphael had fumbled. Majorly. There was no other word for this. Embarrassing. Maybe he was getting too old for this. The game had changed. We were in the Information age now, and he was obsolete. Did people even care about where they were in a wolf pack? He sadly sipped on his admittedly sugar filled drink. Playing with the whip cream at the top, some sticking to his lip and stubble. Without as many mixins and shots of vanilla it was now edible. Mmmmmmmm….

Luckily… this WAS the Information Age. And with that he had a SMART PHONE. Google had become one of his best friends, he typed with both hands, searching up a slew of topics that were important if he planned on taking on this bounty! Maybe he shouldn’t call trying to befriend the barista a mission or hunt.

> "how to ask someoen out romantically nots exuslly."

> "hooks up but for kissing.”

> "is it inappropriate to ask someone out on a date if you just met.”

> “nonbinary meaning.”

> “can nonbinary like men?”

> “pronouns ?”

> “how to use them they cute.”

> “can petname they them.”

> “is doll offensive they them”

> “cute pet names nonbinaru.”

> “is I love you gendered.”

> “platonic version of I love you.”

> “can a cafe see my searches if I’m using free wifi newyork.”

> “how to delete searches.”

> “I’m sorry.”

Yeah. Very important research. He’d figure out how to ask for their number eventually.

Hopefully.

nothingofnotetomention

Bear's face was burning. At least, they felt like it was, since these two suspiciously were free enough to gossip over every single minute reaction the angel had to their, ehm, "nonchalant sex appeal." Seriously, what was with these young adults and using such indecent language to prop up someone's prowess in the dating scene? Bear could swear on their heart that they weren't doing anything especially provocative to garner his attention either... just doing their job... to which they were bombarded with more squeals over how it was a "love at first sight" trope "IRL." Eye Arh Ell. Hmm.

"He obviously has a soft spot for you! He's that asshole we always complain about but you never see him since you're always working in the back on our shifts.. he's totally different around you it's crazy."

"Do we really want to pair [----] up with him though is the question."

"Duh. Did you see the way he was stuttering. Like that's crazy. He lost all of that jerk stuff immediately."

Bear's brows furrowed the entirety of this conversation, arms crossed against their chest as their foot taps against the floor. There was something annoyingly obvious about this whole thing that they couldn't put a name to, tormented constantly by revolving conversation and giggles as they're pushed back and forth. Though they never were eloquent with what emotions they were feeling, this confused them entirely until their hands threatened to disengage from the bottom up in their little worker gloves. Bear had to pull themself together before shaking their head over the background noise.

He was obnoxious. They know this. What he was doing was pissing them off, for lack of a better word. And though they never were privy to negative emotions in the way where it made their heart curdle, they were well versed in frustrations to know how it made them feel. So why wasn't that a dealbreaker? Bear would have thrown up over the thought of being paired with any other random man on the street, and though several had acted quite similarly in the way this new angel did, they couldn't find the distaste in their heart that seemed to come so easily otherwise. So why? Sure, he was pretty and sure he looked so strong and sure he looked fluffy and sure he looked cute and sure his voice was so clear and so nice but physical markers aside they wouldn't care for whatever he was made up of if his personality was to be lacking. So why?

While their coworkers still argued over whatever they were arguing over now, Bear steals away from the spotlight to steal a glance at the mystery man once more. In this angle they were plagued with this nagging feeling that there was more they were supposed to know about this until they've made their way.

All the way across the room.

Face to face with him.

What.

When the angel eventually turns his way to face them they're struck with an almost lightning bolt's worth of shock. Both from walking across the room and the fact that his face is undoubtedly, obviously, now strikingly one that belonged to someone far back in a time they'd rather forget. He's that scrawny angel they couldn't stop thinking about back when She was alive. It's unmistakable. He's got the same eyes, staring at them sort of wide, now. That same hair, just shorter, tamed now into something more "refined" by his tastes. Wings thicker, healthier, and face wider and sharper with age. Oh my god. Oh god. How long was that ago, 10, 12 years back?

Wait. What were they doing here. Oh my god. They'd hide their face from the virulent sense of embarrassment grasping them but it's actually too late since he's fully turned to face them, almost lighting up at the attention while they're starting to lose their mind because this is exactly the Raphael that they used to fawn over and now he was fawning over them without even recognizing them and ouch, that hurt but. Wow. Look at him now. He's so pretty.

Bear would have almost forgotten they'd been standing in front of him for the past 2 minutes if it weren't for the angel staring right up at them.

huntsmen-united

Raphael’s face had defaulted to that distant, calculating look they’d remembered before. When he used to be running numbers for a case in his mind while picking up orders for his boss like a little assistant. He WAS a little assistant. Now a little more assertive, stronger, yet somehow still working for others. His phone was busy with notifications, an email currently drafted on his phone to one ‘Venus of the lost’. Something about tips for chicks. Maybe he WAS a farmer and worked with chickens!

When his eyes glanced up he panicked instantly. Hands fumbling to close his device and accidentally dropping it against the flimsy wooden table in the process. He was usually much more aware of his surroundings, caught with his pants down like this was just embarrassing.

…

Oh what the heck. This was great. Now he can clear things up, really get their attention.

"Change your mind on the coffee comp'? No need. I’m happy here with this little brew you made."

His voice was quieter now. He used to have the cadence of someone trying to yell the loudest. Like a bird squawking! The angel always had the faintest country drawl, now barely hidden by that grin in his voice. Over the years since they last saw each other it had become so controlled. Calm. One might even say dreamy, but not bear. That was the narrators opinion.

Why did Bear have to come over while he had cream all over his face! He was supposed to be cool! Intimidating! He was a monster hunter! Raphael made a sound reminiscent of a dove’s coo, wiping his face with a napkin. He was still a dork, that didn’t change. The loser used to ramble about cars to the baristas coworker for like half an hour! stats and stats and stats… was alpha bro gym talk better or worse… hard to tell.

What mattered is that smile that reached his face when he saw them. Regardless of how much he’d changed there was still that cute, dumb grin. Showing off his fangs. The angel literally beamed when Bear came over.

"Or did you want to sit down? I get it, I hear m' very charming."

He winked, making an obnoxious sipping sound from the plastic straw of his cup.

#ic #txt #rp #rp reply #bear trap

nothingofnotetomention

"Who made this?"

That was one of the most dreadful phrases for underpaid baristas all over the globe. Especially when spoken out of the mouth of someone who clearly had too much money to have to settle for a shitty cafe like this one. His voice was level, carrying authority… but oddly soft. Like, even when upset, he was used to working with something skittish. Maybe a farmer, or a hunter.

Judging by the insignia on his coat it was rather obvious which he was.

"Well? Is no one going to fess up?"

The angel, yes, angel, had fluffy blonde hair. That strawberry kind that picked up ever so slightly red in the light. It was littered with the pigmentation one might see in a man going grey, well, hiding that he was going grey. Thick streaks of silver and occasional lines from bleach. his stubble was lined with those little salt and peppers, clearly growing in a beard too fast to hide the lack of colour on his face. His bangs framed sharp dark brown eyes that despite his annoyance didn’t hold a glare. Actually he had that assholeish grin you get from smart guys, fangy smile accentuating the lines contouring his face brought on by age.

His wings were … huge. Impressive, intimidating thing. Many angel or avian species would find ways to bind them so that it didn’t disrupt others. The blonde in front of them however saw no point in that. The limbs connected to his back stretching out behind him as he tapped his hand waiting, knocking over a nearby flimsy stand that was advertising a new drink that was available for a limited time.

"This isn’t what I ordered."

Unfortunately Bear had left the backroom just in time to find out the business man was looking for them. Their coworkers face souring as he ranted about how he ‘didn’t understand what was so difficult about getting a drink right’.

The other couldn’t help but notice…

A girls name was on his cup. He’d picked up the wrong order by accident. The one THEY made.

uh oh.

- 🍷 ( @huntsmen-united )

It just so happened that Bear, or well, [----], from the hastily done pin on their apron strings was just getting off work. Most of the time, they'd handle the transitionary closing shift for when BRING ME COFFEE OR BRING ME DEATH would prepare for the influx of customers that were sure to come in the night, and so when the store was arguably at its busiest in the one hour of rest, there always happened to be let's say, unpleasant closers who barged in and made everything worse for everyone.

This customer was one of those people.

Wow. Big customer. Bear had to swallow past the lump in their throat that appeared once he was looming over the counter with those wings of his. It's almost terrifying how large he was while going on ranting about "basic drink making skills" and pointing to the "20 year anniversary" board to ask about "if you've even learnt anything in that time." Most customers were hard to calm down. But Bear had a strategy nailed down: offer a free drink, grovel and beg and bow a few times, and wipe the sweat off your brow after the customer leaves with a grumble. It's natural that a species such as them was accustomed to dealing with larger, more irritable predators, what with their history of scraping by life's offerings for basic survival, but in this coffee shop, the counter was a battle they were more than well equipped to win. And by God they will win.

First, however, they tuck their employee pin into their pocket. Just so he wouldn't get any ideas and threaten to call the manager on them. Manager, being them. But, there was no harm in being cautious. Compared to the displeased customer, Bear's presence had the sense of someone desperately trying to blend into the background. In their black shirt and their chestnut brown work apron, they stood at a much shorter height, barely reaching the angel's shoulder as they took the counter, shoulders surprisingly broad for one of their stature.

Dark brown eyes that crinkled with age stare up at the man under even darker black bangs that fall across their face so neatly, you'd think the mess was part of their disguise. Instead, they look at his eyes (which seemed to have softened?) with a confident neutral customer service expression, only made more successful with the lack of life in their face whatsoever. It'd be concerning if he wasn't more focused on the drink. The only thing that disrupts this clandestine sequence is the slight bump in their nosebridge that peeks out before continuing straight down.

A quick glance at his drink does give them a crack in the mask, dread coloring their face as they realize that he's holding what is in fact, their drink. Which was a recipe that they were not selling today. Oh no. Employee privilege. Actually they can't let anyone know about this.

"Good evening Sir. I'm so sorry to hear about your drink, could I have your name and order number to reconfirm what you were promised?"

huntsmen-united

"Yeah I’m sure you’re sorry you —"

….

“You uh.."

oh my god. They are so pretty. Some people might be ashamed to think that, yet damn, he was just at a loss for words. Raphael knew his taste was sort of fucked, he thought his boss was hot after all and he was a tentacle monster, but this was its own battle. The way the sun hit their eyes was reminiscent of Amber, dark jets of hair framing them like curtains does an equally stunning window view. The man didn’t know where to look, face flushing ever so slightly before his eyes settled on their chest.

"Order, er, number 042… Malt Chocolate Special with almond milk ‘nd.. extra whip cream."

Gah! Why did he say that! He didn’t know much about how to be charming but those pick-up artist he watched said to never act emasculate around a women! They’ll lose interest immediately if you aren’t the natural leader of the pack! It’s biological! Science proves it! However… that pin … maybe it was different with non…nonbinaries? Is that the plural? maybe they’s aren’t prone to the same biological urges for an alpha.

Or maybe they are and he blew it. fuck. he went to smile at them, relieve some building anxiety, but he felt his fangs against his gums. He was too monstrous, he’d scare them away. After a quick flash of teeth he closed his mouth, letting his lips drift into an indifferent, ‘cool’ expression.

“It was too sweet, like a bioweapon in all honesty. Did … Did you make it, uh, ma'a—sir—" quick think of a gender neutral term! "—dollface?"

Was dollface gender neutral? There was boy dolls and they dolls, right?

“I was ‘promised’ something edible."

nothingofnotetomention

Surprisingly, all this angel's bite dropped out of him the moment they settled in front of the counter and just so happened to give him one look. Bear would have been happy about this change of events if they weren't utterly confused by how quick the man's countenance changed from ego-pushing arrogance to shy and bashful as if he was a Victorian who'd just been flashed an ankle. Though, from their time with the Tudors, Bear didn't really see what the big appeal was with those old bones anyways. Men usually lost their cool for two reasons: 1) being out of embarrassment due to being usurped by their colleagues, or 2) a pretty woman was around. Though, as Bear looks around, none of their colleagues were in view. Hm.

He's awfully fidgety too, hands picking at each other in some sort of anxious tic while his fangs (fangs?) peek through, though interrupted by a deep breath where that nervous smile was pulled back into a deadset expression. Bear would be disappointed if they weren't grappling with the complex problem of what exactly he was so anxious over. I mean, there weren't any pressing threats like giant predators looming over his throat or mean bosses about to yell at him, so why was he so scared? He trips over his words when from the back they'd heard him flow so nicely, but fumble in the face of them? Could he be scared of them? They specifically chose to be short to prevent this! AH!

Bear looks up at him again, checking his order against the lone drink left on the counter that was signed for a particular "Raphael", but furrows their brows when he starts rambling about how sweet their drink was. Bioweapon... Of course it was sweet, it wasn't meant for you! Though, with what he ordered, there was a bit of a surprise at the fact that he'd noticed any difference at all. That drink wasn't known to be ordered by men who wanted to look cool and intimidating. It had whipped cream on the top! Men hated that! Though perhaps it was in line with how fluffy he looked, humanoids rarely subscribed to one ideal of appearance. Maybe it was on them for judging.

"Alright. It seems that your order is actually right here." They hand it to him. Trying not to think about how big his looked in comparison. "There's no need to worry sir. Your drink was mixed up with another employee's."

Wait.

Did he call them dollface?

Oh... for some reason that nickname made them feel embarrassed to be in his vicinity. They could hear gossiping from the backrooms, though right now they were focused on dissecting the curious feeling that had settled in their chest. There was something about this angel. They swear.

huntsmen-united

"Employee? ah… someone copying my style? Didn’t know I had fans like that.”

The angel fake laughed outloud, a dramatic ‘hah hah’ following. He brushed his hair out of his eyes, watch on said wrist shining in the light as he did so. Honestly, the barista was right to question his appearance. It was completely alien to what they usually saw from the clientele at BRING ME COFFEE OR BRING ME DEATH. Wearing a thick, deep brown tweed jacket that framed his muscular form, a dark red velvet waistcoat helping shape his chest (which’s button was undone, did he know that?). And finishing the look with a shiny little bolo tie. A pale hand went to said cord, throat bobbing as he tightened it.

"That wouldn’t have happened to be you, was it?

Something about the fact that they hadn’t walked away was giving him confidence. A very unfortunate thing, to be flirted with by Raphael.

"That would be convenient, hm?"

His wings fluttered nervously behind him. Coincidentally the second he tested his correct drink he’d accidentally pushed over a wastebin near the side counter he was currently leaned against. Retracting the things to press against his back, now fumbling to clean up his mess.

"God, nothing is nailed down in this place. ew, does anyone take out the trash ‘round here?"

THAT WAS THEIR JOB, NOOO! WAS HE AFTER THEIR JOB????? DID HE WANT THEM FIRED??? :(

Despite his over the top jerk persona he wasn’t a complete heartless bastard. He crouched, legs flexing in a way that stained against his dress pants to show off his build. Careful to not get any dirt or muck on himself he shoddily picked up garbage, face momentarily bitter from the disgusting texture of dirty coffee cups. His demeanour changed however when he saw the other enter his line of sight again, smiling lazy before getting up and dusting himself off.

"See. M' a good boy and clean up my messes. Now, doll if you could just be good yourself and get me a discount or free drink comp. I’ll be on my way. Real emotional damage from that drink of yours, totally traumatic. I could sue yknow."

nothingofnotetomention

"It's a very popular drink, sir." It was! They weren't even lying this time! It was the top order when the heatwaves rolled around. Bear had never seen so many people stumble into the air-conditioned cafe with loud complaints about how warm it was, or the collective sighs and groans of relief when they'd sipped on their iced drinks of choice. They never understood why everyone was so upset about the heat. If you asked them, it was the cold that had real bite.

Customers always laughed at things that were mysteriously out of their knowledge to what was considered funny. What this customer was laughing at was one of many. Honestly, Bear was baffled at this interaction in more ways than one, unfortunately letting this confusion show through on their face in the form of furrowed brows and pursed lips. This incredible grandstanding wasn't at all surprising considering his overall appearance and general countenance, but it begs the question for where his uncharacteristic bashfulness fit in whenever they'd accidentally meet his eyes and he'd shut right up. They'd taken to wringing their apron strings in their gloves hands as they try to examine him once more.

He was obviously of higher status, what with how thick his tweed jacket was with the shine of that velvet waistcoat, but what stood out to Bear was how ill-fitting his entire getup was. Did he know his shirt was unbuttoned? It was already bad enough that they could see puffs of feather fluff sticking through the openings (how indecent...), but what was even more surprising was that he didn't wear any sort of undershirt? What was his goal, really? His chest was so puffed out and his voice was so loud as if he was trying to maintain their attention in any sort of way, akin to how male birds court their mates with distracting plumage and attention-grabbing dances. Though, Bear wasn't a bird, were they? He's so... perplexing. But Whatever he was doing wasn't conducive to attraction, they figure, because as he tips over a trashcan with his wings, Bear found more annoyance building in their throat than anything else.

"Convenient? How so?" Did he think they specifically timed their drink order for him to pick up? How would that even work! What was he trying to say? That they were trying to steal his drink? They didn't even like almond milk... They lean over the counter to watch him surprisingly pick up what he's spilled over, but tilt their head at his lazy little smile once he realized they were watching. Weird...

Somehow he's already at the counter again, leaning into their every word like whatever they were saying was gospel. But really, they were just looking at their timesheet. "Um. Since your drink was to your taste I don't see a reason for any complimentary offerings, sir. Or any discounts for that matter."

Bear tries to be nice but the way he was talking really ticked them off. Why would he get a free drink if he already had his? He's the one who picked up the wrong one.. after insulting theirs too.. Hmmm... They've never been dissatisfied with customers that weren't outwardly antagonizing, but whatever this man was doing was really challenging their positivity first approach to everything.

huntsmen-united

"it’s a matter of principle. What if I drank something I was allergic to - I could’ve died! Not to mention you’ve all wasted my time."

Time he chose to waste complaining about this drink. Is he even real? It was hard for Bear to tell the validity of what this guy was saying. He was very, overwhelmingly cocky. Talked in that way where you could tell he was so full of himself… and yet, he couldn’t look them in the eyes. Currently opting to look at the side, now interested in the sign behind the brunette that held the specials.

Raphael didn’t know what to do. Usually the pieces sort of fell into place. He sees someone pretty, he walks up to them, they think he’s so so cool, and they end up at his place. Sure they usually make him buy a few drinks first or take a drive around in whatever car he brought but… he was a hot commodity! People wanted him! Smoking hot hunk with loads of cash, a charming personality, and total alpha male pheromones that made chicks compelled to talk to him! He’d want himself! Yet this was different. The angel didn’t want a quick hook up or those little desk weights his old boss would bring to the office. He wanted to talk with them. They had this soft smile that was intoxicating for him. When he saw them walk over his heart STOP! Fuck they were completely adorable! gah, how does someone ask someone for that.

"I, well…"

Raphael was going to try some smooth pickup line. Those usually worked. However when their eyes locked suddenly the words were stuck in his throat. WHAT IF THEY SAID NO. In a blur of colours his wings covered his face. A few feathers flying in the air from how fast he moved in the open area. Voice now muffled from fluff he simply put down a simple tip of 50$ 'for the troubles' and grabbed his drink.

"—Never mind."

The man found himself sitting at the far end of the cafe. Wings still protecting his flushed face as he scrolled on his phone through his emails. Mostly work related… anything to distract himself. Maybe if he sat here long enough he’d figure out what to say. God, is this how normies felt? Humiliating. He almost felt bad for Lt. Doberman now.

What a weirdo.

nothingofnotetomention

Bear was lost for words. Honestly, they expected this interaction to go over quite differently since most men of his cadence argue until they begrudgingly hand over the complimentary drink or discount, and though that's where they thought this was headed, said customer just. Immediately folded after one measly sentence of protest. He refused to meet their eyes either, widening in surprise when they locked gazes before flitting around to focus on anything but them— oh no. Was there something on their face? Did he realize they were annoyed at him?

The man seemed to be struggling with an invisible battle known only to him as he nervously looks around, stature somehow much more smaller despite the fluttery noises of his wings puffing up whenever Bear so much as opened their mouth to ask him any reconfirmation. Losing all of that cocky self-confidence to then nod quietly, start, and then falter before pulling out his wallet to fish for a single 50 dollar bill before running away in a flurry of feathers. Their mouth still stayed open in shock, gears turning in their head while they manually close it. There's something off about this dude. While this happened, the gossiping from behind the counter suspiciously dies down.

Bear turns around, drink in hand, only to be ambushed by their eclectic coworkers. Who immediately dragged them into the employees-only room so they could go on their "post-customer-douchebag briefings" as they so ehm.. vulgarly called it. Though at this point in time they had their own amount of questions to throw in the ring rather than being a silent observer.

Ronnie, short for, actually they don't know, is the first to speak, red hair glinting against the warm light as her ponytail swishes, circular glasses dipped low on her nose. "HE LIKES YOU." Hands on their shoulders, shaking them just a little bit, while Jer, short for Jeremy, short for Jeremiah (though he never liked them calling him that), hisses out a "SHH. HE CAN HEAR YOU." His hair's adorned with beads color-coded to the day, septum ring peeking out from his nostrils as he pushes them up to hide.

"HUH??"

"Dude did you see the way he looked at you. He basically choked when you came up in front."

"Ohhh it's nice to have pretty privilege."

"HUHHHHH?????"

huntsmen-united

Raphael had fumbled. Majorly. There was no other word for this. Embarrassing. Maybe he was getting too old for this. The game had changed. We were in the Information age now, and he was obsolete. Did people even care about where they were in a wolf pack? He sadly sipped on his admittedly sugar filled drink. Playing with the whip cream at the top, some sticking to his lip and stubble. Without as many mixins and shots of vanilla it was now edible. Mmmmmmmm….

Luckily… this WAS the Information Age. And with that he had a SMART PHONE. Google had become one of his best friends, he typed with both hands, searching up a slew of topics that were important if he planned on taking on this bounty! Maybe he shouldn’t call trying to befriend the barista a mission or hunt.

> "how to ask someoen out romantically nots exuslly."

> "hooks up but for kissing.”

> "is it inappropriate to ask someone out on a date if you just met.”

> “nonbinary meaning.”

> “can nonbinary like men?”

> “pronouns ?”

> “how to use them they cute.”

> “can petname they them.”

> “is doll offensive they them”

> “cute pet names nonbinaru.”

> “is I love you gendered.”

> “platonic version of I love you.”

> “can a cafe see my searches if I’m using free wifi newyork.”

> “how to delete searches.”

> “I’m sorry.”

Yeah. Very important research. He’d figure out how to ask for their number eventually.

Hopefully.

#ic #txt #rp #rp reply #bear trap #cw suggestive #kinda

nothingofnotetomention

"Who made this?"

That was one of the most dreadful phrases for underpaid baristas all over the globe. Especially when spoken out of the mouth of someone who clearly had too much money to have to settle for a shitty cafe like this one. His voice was level, carrying authority… but oddly soft. Like, even when upset, he was used to working with something skittish. Maybe a farmer, or a hunter.

Judging by the insignia on his coat it was rather obvious which he was.

"Well? Is no one going to fess up?"

The angel, yes, angel, had fluffy blonde hair. That strawberry kind that picked up ever so slightly red in the light. It was littered with the pigmentation one might see in a man going grey, well, hiding that he was going grey. Thick streaks of silver and occasional lines from bleach. his stubble was lined with those little salt and peppers, clearly growing in a beard too fast to hide the lack of colour on his face. His bangs framed sharp dark brown eyes that despite his annoyance didn’t hold a glare. Actually he had that assholeish grin you get from smart guys, fangy smile accentuating the lines contouring his face brought on by age.

His wings were … huge. Impressive, intimidating thing. Many angel or avian species would find ways to bind them so that it didn’t disrupt others. The blonde in front of them however saw no point in that. The limbs connected to his back stretching out behind him as he tapped his hand waiting, knocking over a nearby flimsy stand that was advertising a new drink that was available for a limited time.

"This isn’t what I ordered."

Unfortunately Bear had left the backroom just in time to find out the business man was looking for them. Their coworkers face souring as he ranted about how he ‘didn’t understand what was so difficult about getting a drink right’.

The other couldn’t help but notice…

A girls name was on his cup. He’d picked up the wrong order by accident. The one THEY made.

uh oh.

- 🍷 ( @huntsmen-united )

It just so happened that Bear, or well, [----], from the hastily done pin on their apron strings was just getting off work. Most of the time, they'd handle the transitionary closing shift for when BRING ME COFFEE OR BRING ME DEATH would prepare for the influx of customers that were sure to come in the night, and so when the store was arguably at its busiest in the one hour of rest, there always happened to be let's say, unpleasant closers who barged in and made everything worse for everyone.

This customer was one of those people.

Wow. Big customer. Bear had to swallow past the lump in their throat that appeared once he was looming over the counter with those wings of his. It's almost terrifying how large he was while going on ranting about "basic drink making skills" and pointing to the "20 year anniversary" board to ask about "if you've even learnt anything in that time." Most customers were hard to calm down. But Bear had a strategy nailed down: offer a free drink, grovel and beg and bow a few times, and wipe the sweat off your brow after the customer leaves with a grumble. It's natural that a species such as them was accustomed to dealing with larger, more irritable predators, what with their history of scraping by life's offerings for basic survival, but in this coffee shop, the counter was a battle they were more than well equipped to win. And by God they will win.

First, however, they tuck their employee pin into their pocket. Just so he wouldn't get any ideas and threaten to call the manager on them. Manager, being them. But, there was no harm in being cautious. Compared to the displeased customer, Bear's presence had the sense of someone desperately trying to blend into the background. In their black shirt and their chestnut brown work apron, they stood at a much shorter height, barely reaching the angel's shoulder as they took the counter, shoulders surprisingly broad for one of their stature.

Dark brown eyes that crinkled with age stare up at the man under even darker black bangs that fall across their face so neatly, you'd think the mess was part of their disguise. Instead, they look at his eyes (which seemed to have softened?) with a confident neutral customer service expression, only made more successful with the lack of life in their face whatsoever. It'd be concerning if he wasn't more focused on the drink. The only thing that disrupts this clandestine sequence is the slight bump in their nosebridge that peeks out before continuing straight down.

A quick glance at his drink does give them a crack in the mask, dread coloring their face as they realize that he's holding what is in fact, their drink. Which was a recipe that they were not selling today. Oh no. Employee privilege. Actually they can't let anyone know about this.

"Good evening Sir. I'm so sorry to hear about your drink, could I have your name and order number to reconfirm what you were promised?"

huntsmen-united

"Yeah I’m sure you’re sorry you —"

….

“You uh.."

oh my god. They are so pretty. Some people might be ashamed to think that, yet damn, he was just at a loss for words. Raphael knew his taste was sort of fucked, he thought his boss was hot after all and he was a tentacle monster, but this was its own battle. The way the sun hit their eyes was reminiscent of Amber, dark jets of hair framing them like curtains does an equally stunning window view. The man didn’t know where to look, face flushing ever so slightly before his eyes settled on their chest.

"Order, er, number 042… Malt Chocolate Special with almond milk ‘nd.. extra whip cream."

Gah! Why did he say that! He didn’t know much about how to be charming but those pick-up artist he watched said to never act emasculate around a women! They’ll lose interest immediately if you aren’t the natural leader of the pack! It’s biological! Science proves it! However… that pin … maybe it was different with non…nonbinaries? Is that the plural? maybe they’s aren’t prone to the same biological urges for an alpha.

Or maybe they are and he blew it. fuck. he went to smile at them, relieve some building anxiety, but he felt his fangs against his gums. He was too monstrous, he’d scare them away. After a quick flash of teeth he closed his mouth, letting his lips drift into an indifferent, ‘cool’ expression.

“It was too sweet, like a bioweapon in all honesty. Did … Did you make it, uh, ma'a—sir—" quick think of a gender neutral term! "—dollface?"

Was dollface gender neutral? There was boy dolls and they dolls, right?

“I was ‘promised’ something edible."

nothingofnotetomention

Surprisingly, all this angel's bite dropped out of him the moment they settled in front of the counter and just so happened to give him one look. Bear would have been happy about this change of events if they weren't utterly confused by how quick the man's countenance changed from ego-pushing arrogance to shy and bashful as if he was a Victorian who'd just been flashed an ankle. Though, from their time with the Tudors, Bear didn't really see what the big appeal was with those old bones anyways. Men usually lost their cool for two reasons: 1) being out of embarrassment due to being usurped by their colleagues, or 2) a pretty woman was around. Though, as Bear looks around, none of their colleagues were in view. Hm.

He's awfully fidgety too, hands picking at each other in some sort of anxious tic while his fangs (fangs?) peek through, though interrupted by a deep breath where that nervous smile was pulled back into a deadset expression. Bear would be disappointed if they weren't grappling with the complex problem of what exactly he was so anxious over. I mean, there weren't any pressing threats like giant predators looming over his throat or mean bosses about to yell at him, so why was he so scared? He trips over his words when from the back they'd heard him flow so nicely, but fumble in the face of them? Could he be scared of them? They specifically chose to be short to prevent this! AH!

Bear looks up at him again, checking his order against the lone drink left on the counter that was signed for a particular "Raphael", but furrows their brows when he starts rambling about how sweet their drink was. Bioweapon... Of course it was sweet, it wasn't meant for you! Though, with what he ordered, there was a bit of a surprise at the fact that he'd noticed any difference at all. That drink wasn't known to be ordered by men who wanted to look cool and intimidating. It had whipped cream on the top! Men hated that! Though perhaps it was in line with how fluffy he looked, humanoids rarely subscribed to one ideal of appearance. Maybe it was on them for judging.

"Alright. It seems that your order is actually right here." They hand it to him. Trying not to think about how big his looked in comparison. "There's no need to worry sir. Your drink was mixed up with another employee's."

Wait.

Did he call them dollface?

Oh... for some reason that nickname made them feel embarrassed to be in his vicinity. They could hear gossiping from the backrooms, though right now they were focused on dissecting the curious feeling that had settled in their chest. There was something about this angel. They swear.

huntsmen-united

"Employee? ah… someone copying my style? Didn’t know I had fans like that.”

The angel fake laughed outloud, a dramatic ‘hah hah’ following. He brushed his hair out of his eyes, watch on said wrist shining in the light as he did so. Honestly, the barista was right to question his appearance. It was completely alien to what they usually saw from the clientele at BRING ME COFFEE OR BRING ME DEATH. Wearing a thick, deep brown tweed jacket that framed his muscular form, a dark red velvet waistcoat helping shape his chest (which’s button was undone, did he know that?). And finishing the look with a shiny little bolo tie. A pale hand went to said cord, throat bobbing as he tightened it.

"That wouldn’t have happened to be you, was it?

Something about the fact that they hadn’t walked away was giving him confidence. A very unfortunate thing, to be flirted with by Raphael.

"That would be convenient, hm?"

His wings fluttered nervously behind him. Coincidentally the second he tested his correct drink he’d accidentally pushed over a wastebin near the side counter he was currently leaned against. Retracting the things to press against his back, now fumbling to clean up his mess.

"God, nothing is nailed down in this place. ew, does anyone take out the trash ‘round here?"

THAT WAS THEIR JOB, NOOO! WAS HE AFTER THEIR JOB????? DID HE WANT THEM FIRED??? :(

Despite his over the top jerk persona he wasn’t a complete heartless bastard. He crouched, legs flexing in a way that stained against his dress pants to show off his build. Careful to not get any dirt or muck on himself he shoddily picked up garbage, face momentarily bitter from the disgusting texture of dirty coffee cups. His demeanour changed however when he saw the other enter his line of sight again, smiling lazy before getting up and dusting himself off.

"See. M' a good boy and clean up my messes. Now, doll if you could just be good yourself and get me a discount or free drink comp. I’ll be on my way. Real emotional damage from that drink of yours, totally traumatic. I could sue yknow."

nothingofnotetomention

"It's a very popular drink, sir." It was! They weren't even lying this time! It was the top order when the heatwaves rolled around. Bear had never seen so many people stumble into the air-conditioned cafe with loud complaints about how warm it was, or the collective sighs and groans of relief when they'd sipped on their iced drinks of choice. They never understood why everyone was so upset about the heat. If you asked them, it was the cold that had real bite.

Customers always laughed at things that were mysteriously out of their knowledge to what was considered funny. What this customer was laughing at was one of many. Honestly, Bear was baffled at this interaction in more ways than one, unfortunately letting this confusion show through on their face in the form of furrowed brows and pursed lips. This incredible grandstanding wasn't at all surprising considering his overall appearance and general countenance, but it begs the question for where his uncharacteristic bashfulness fit in whenever they'd accidentally meet his eyes and he'd shut right up. They'd taken to wringing their apron strings in their gloves hands as they try to examine him once more.

He was obviously of higher status, what with how thick his tweed jacket was with the shine of that velvet waistcoat, but what stood out to Bear was how ill-fitting his entire getup was. Did he know his shirt was unbuttoned? It was already bad enough that they could see puffs of feather fluff sticking through the openings (how indecent...), but what was even more surprising was that he didn't wear any sort of undershirt? What was his goal, really? His chest was so puffed out and his voice was so loud as if he was trying to maintain their attention in any sort of way, akin to how male birds court their mates with distracting plumage and attention-grabbing dances. Though, Bear wasn't a bird, were they? He's so... perplexing. But Whatever he was doing wasn't conducive to attraction, they figure, because as he tips over a trashcan with his wings, Bear found more annoyance building in their throat than anything else.

"Convenient? How so?" Did he think they specifically timed their drink order for him to pick up? How would that even work! What was he trying to say? That they were trying to steal his drink? They didn't even like almond milk... They lean over the counter to watch him surprisingly pick up what he's spilled over, but tilt their head at his lazy little smile once he realized they were watching. Weird...

Somehow he's already at the counter again, leaning into their every word like whatever they were saying was gospel. But really, they were just looking at their timesheet. "Um. Since your drink was to your taste I don't see a reason for any complimentary offerings, sir. Or any discounts for that matter."

Bear tries to be nice but the way he was talking really ticked them off. Why would he get a free drink if he already had his? He's the one who picked up the wrong one.. after insulting theirs too.. Hmmm... They've never been dissatisfied with customers that weren't outwardly antagonizing, but whatever this man was doing was really challenging their positivity first approach to everything.

huntsmen-united

"it’s a matter of principle. What if I drank something I was allergic to - I could’ve died! Not to mention you’ve all wasted my time."

Time he chose to waste complaining about this drink. Is he even real? It was hard for Bear to tell the validity of what this guy was saying. He was very, overwhelmingly cocky. Talked in that way where you could tell he was so full of himself… and yet, he couldn’t look them in the eyes. Currently opting to look at the side, now interested in the sign behind the brunette that held the specials.

Raphael didn’t know what to do. Usually the pieces sort of fell into place. He sees someone pretty, he walks up to them, they think he’s so so cool, and they end up at his place. Sure they usually make him buy a few drinks first or take a drive around in whatever car he brought but… he was a hot commodity! People wanted him! Smoking hot hunk with loads of cash, a charming personality, and total alpha male pheromones that made chicks compelled to talk to him! He’d want himself! Yet this was different. The angel didn’t want a quick hook up or those little desk weights his old boss would bring to the office. He wanted to talk with them. They had this soft smile that was intoxicating for him. When he saw them walk over his heart STOP! Fuck they were completely adorable! gah, how does someone ask someone for that.

"I, well…"

Raphael was going to try some smooth pickup line. Those usually worked. However when their eyes locked suddenly the words were stuck in his throat. WHAT IF THEY SAID NO. In a blur of colours his wings covered his face. A few feathers flying in the air from how fast he moved in the open area. Voice now muffled from fluff he simply put down a simple tip of 50$ 'for the troubles' and grabbed his drink.

"—Never mind."

The man found himself sitting at the far end of the cafe. Wings still protecting his flushed face as he scrolled on his phone through his emails. Mostly work related… anything to distract himself. Maybe if he sat here long enough he’d figure out what to say. God, is this how normies felt? Humiliating. He almost felt bad for Lt. Doberman now.

What a weirdo.

#ic #txt #rp #rp reply #bear trap

nothingofnotetomention

"Who made this?"

That was one of the most dreadful phrases for underpaid baristas all over the globe. Especially when spoken out of the mouth of someone who clearly had too much money to have to settle for a shitty cafe like this one. His voice was level, carrying authority… but oddly soft. Like, even when upset, he was used to working with something skittish. Maybe a farmer, or a hunter.

Judging by the insignia on his coat it was rather obvious which he was.

"Well? Is no one going to fess up?"

The angel, yes, angel, had fluffy blonde hair. That strawberry kind that picked up ever so slightly red in the light. It was littered with the pigmentation one might see in a man going grey, well, hiding that he was going grey. Thick streaks of silver and occasional lines from bleach. his stubble was lined with those little salt and peppers, clearly growing in a beard too fast to hide the lack of colour on his face. His bangs framed sharp dark brown eyes that despite his annoyance didn’t hold a glare. Actually he had that assholeish grin you get from smart guys, fangy smile accentuating the lines contouring his face brought on by age.

His wings were … huge. Impressive, intimidating thing. Many angel or avian species would find ways to bind them so that it didn’t disrupt others. The blonde in front of them however saw no point in that. The limbs connected to his back stretching out behind him as he tapped his hand waiting, knocking over a nearby flimsy stand that was advertising a new drink that was available for a limited time.

"This isn’t what I ordered."

Unfortunately Bear had left the backroom just in time to find out the business man was looking for them. Their coworkers face souring as he ranted about how he ‘didn’t understand what was so difficult about getting a drink right’.

The other couldn’t help but notice…

A girls name was on his cup. He’d picked up the wrong order by accident. The one THEY made.

uh oh.

- 🍷 ( @huntsmen-united )

It just so happened that Bear, or well, [----], from the hastily done pin on their apron strings was just getting off work. Most of the time, they'd handle the transitionary closing shift for when BRING ME COFFEE OR BRING ME DEATH would prepare for the influx of customers that were sure to come in the night, and so when the store was arguably at its busiest in the one hour of rest, there always happened to be let's say, unpleasant closers who barged in and made everything worse for everyone.

This customer was one of those people.

Wow. Big customer. Bear had to swallow past the lump in their throat that appeared once he was looming over the counter with those wings of his. It's almost terrifying how large he was while going on ranting about "basic drink making skills" and pointing to the "20 year anniversary" board to ask about "if you've even learnt anything in that time." Most customers were hard to calm down. But Bear had a strategy nailed down: offer a free drink, grovel and beg and bow a few times, and wipe the sweat off your brow after the customer leaves with a grumble. It's natural that a species such as them was accustomed to dealing with larger, more irritable predators, what with their history of scraping by life's offerings for basic survival, but in this coffee shop, the counter was a battle they were more than well equipped to win. And by God they will win.

First, however, they tuck their employee pin into their pocket. Just so he wouldn't get any ideas and threaten to call the manager on them. Manager, being them. But, there was no harm in being cautious. Compared to the displeased customer, Bear's presence had the sense of someone desperately trying to blend into the background. In their black shirt and their chestnut brown work apron, they stood at a much shorter height, barely reaching the angel's shoulder as they took the counter, shoulders surprisingly broad for one of their stature.

Dark brown eyes that crinkled with age stare up at the man under even darker black bangs that fall across their face so neatly, you'd think the mess was part of their disguise. Instead, they look at his eyes (which seemed to have softened?) with a confident neutral customer service expression, only made more successful with the lack of life in their face whatsoever. It'd be concerning if he wasn't more focused on the drink. The only thing that disrupts this clandestine sequence is the slight bump in their nosebridge that peeks out before continuing straight down.

A quick glance at his drink does give them a crack in the mask, dread coloring their face as they realize that he's holding what is in fact, their drink. Which was a recipe that they were not selling today. Oh no. Employee privilege. Actually they can't let anyone know about this.

"Good evening Sir. I'm so sorry to hear about your drink, could I have your name and order number to reconfirm what you were promised?"

huntsmen-united

"Yeah I’m sure you’re sorry you —"

….

“You uh.."

oh my god. They are so pretty. Some people might be ashamed to think that, yet damn, he was just at a loss for words. Raphael knew his taste was sort of fucked, he thought his boss was hot after all and he was a tentacle monster, but this was its own battle. The way the sun hit their eyes was reminiscent of Amber, dark jets of hair framing them like curtains does an equally stunning window view. The man didn’t know where to look, face flushing ever so slightly before his eyes settled on their chest.

"Order, er, number 042… Malt Chocolate Special with almond milk ‘nd.. extra whip cream."

Gah! Why did he say that! He didn’t know much about how to be charming but those pick-up artist he watched said to never act emasculate around a women! They’ll lose interest immediately if you aren’t the natural leader of the pack! It’s biological! Science proves it! However… that pin … maybe it was different with non…nonbinaries? Is that the plural? maybe they’s aren’t prone to the same biological urges for an alpha.

Or maybe they are and he blew it. fuck. he went to smile at them, relieve some building anxiety, but he felt his fangs against his gums. He was too monstrous, he’d scare them away. After a quick flash of teeth he closed his mouth, letting his lips drift into an indifferent, ‘cool’ expression.

“It was too sweet, like a bioweapon in all honesty. Did … Did you make it, uh, ma'a—sir—" quick think of a gender neutral term! "—dollface?"

Was dollface gender neutral? There was boy dolls and they dolls, right?

“I was ‘promised’ something edible."

nothingofnotetomention

Surprisingly, all this angel's bite dropped out of him the moment they settled in front of the counter and just so happened to give him one look. Bear would have been happy about this change of events if they weren't utterly confused by how quick the man's countenance changed from ego-pushing arrogance to shy and bashful as if he was a Victorian who'd just been flashed an ankle. Though, from their time with the Tudors, Bear didn't really see what the big appeal was with those old bones anyways. Men usually lost their cool for two reasons: 1) being out of embarrassment due to being usurped by their colleagues, or 2) a pretty woman was around. Though, as Bear looks around, none of their colleagues were in view. Hm.

He's awfully fidgety too, hands picking at each other in some sort of anxious tic while his fangs (fangs?) peek through, though interrupted by a deep breath where that nervous smile was pulled back into a deadset expression. Bear would be disappointed if they weren't grappling with the complex problem of what exactly he was so anxious over. I mean, there weren't any pressing threats like giant predators looming over his throat or mean bosses about to yell at him, so why was he so scared? He trips over his words when from the back they'd heard him flow so nicely, but fumble in the face of them? Could he be scared of them? They specifically chose to be short to prevent this! AH!

Bear looks up at him again, checking his order against the lone drink left on the counter that was signed for a particular "Raphael", but furrows their brows when he starts rambling about how sweet their drink was. Bioweapon... Of course it was sweet, it wasn't meant for you! Though, with what he ordered, there was a bit of a surprise at the fact that he'd noticed any difference at all. That drink wasn't known to be ordered by men who wanted to look cool and intimidating. It had whipped cream on the top! Men hated that! Though perhaps it was in line with how fluffy he looked, humanoids rarely subscribed to one ideal of appearance. Maybe it was on them for judging.

"Alright. It seems that your order is actually right here." They hand it to him. Trying not to think about how big his looked in comparison. "There's no need to worry sir. Your drink was mixed up with another employee's."

Wait.

Did he call them dollface?

Oh... for some reason that nickname made them feel embarrassed to be in his vicinity. They could hear gossiping from the backrooms, though right now they were focused on dissecting the curious feeling that had settled in their chest. There was something about this angel. They swear.

huntsmen-united

"Employee? ah… someone copying my style? Didn’t know I had fans like that.”

The angel fake laughed outloud, a dramatic ‘hah hah’ following. He brushed his hair out of his eyes, watch on said wrist shining in the light as he did so. Honestly, the barista was right to question his appearance. It was completely alien to what they usually saw from the clientele at BRING ME COFFEE OR BRING ME DEATH. Wearing a thick, deep brown tweed jacket that framed his muscular form, a dark red velvet waistcoat helping shape his chest (which’s button was undone, did he know that?). And finishing the look with a shiny little bolo tie. A pale hand went to said cord, throat bobbing as he tightened it.

"That wouldn’t have happened to be you, was it?

Something about the fact that they hadn’t walked away was giving him confidence. A very unfortunate thing, to be flirted with by Raphael.

"That would be convenient, hm?"

His wings fluttered nervously behind him. Coincidentally the second he tested his correct drink he’d accidentally pushed over a wastebin near the side counter he was currently leaned against. Retracting the things to press against his back, now fumbling to clean up his mess.

"God, nothing is nailed down in this place. ew, does anyone take out the trash ‘round here?"

THAT WAS THEIR JOB, NOOO! WAS HE AFTER THEIR JOB????? DID HE WANT THEM FIRED??? :(

Despite his over the top jerk persona he wasn’t a complete heartless bastard. He crouched, legs flexing in a way that stained against his dress pants to show off his build. Careful to not get any dirt or muck on himself he shoddily picked up garbage, face momentarily bitter from the disgusting texture of dirty coffee cups. His demeanour changed however when he saw the other enter his line of sight again, smiling lazy before getting up and dusting himself off.

"See. M' a good boy and clean up my messes. Now, doll if you could just be good yourself and get me a discount or free drink comp. I’ll be on my way. Real emotional damage from that drink of yours, totally traumatic. I could sue yknow."

#ic #txt #rp #bear trap #OOC: I hate him HAHHAHAHA

nothingofnotetomention

"Who made this?"

That was one of the most dreadful phrases for underpaid baristas all over the globe. Especially when spoken out of the mouth of someone who clearly had too much money to have to settle for a shitty cafe like this one. His voice was level, carrying authority… but oddly soft. Like, even when upset, he was used to working with something skittish. Maybe a farmer, or a hunter.

Judging by the insignia on his coat it was rather obvious which he was.

"Well? Is no one going to fess up?"

The angel, yes, angel, had fluffy blonde hair. That strawberry kind that picked up ever so slightly red in the light. It was littered with the pigmentation one might see in a man going grey, well, hiding that he was going grey. Thick streaks of silver and occasional lines from bleach. his stubble was lined with those little salt and peppers, clearly growing in a beard too fast to hide the lack of colour on his face. His bangs framed sharp dark brown eyes that despite his annoyance didn’t hold a glare. Actually he had that assholeish grin you get from smart guys, fangy smile accentuating the lines contouring his face brought on by age.

His wings were … huge. Impressive, intimidating thing. Many angel or avian species would find ways to bind them so that it didn’t disrupt others. The blonde in front of them however saw no point in that. The limbs connected to his back stretching out behind him as he tapped his hand waiting, knocking over a nearby flimsy stand that was advertising a new drink that was available for a limited time.

"This isn’t what I ordered."

Unfortunately Bear had left the backroom just in time to find out the business man was looking for them. Their coworkers face souring as he ranted about how he ‘didn’t understand what was so difficult about getting a drink right’.

The other couldn’t help but notice…

A girls name was on his cup. He’d picked up the wrong order by accident. The one THEY made.

uh oh.

- 🍷 ( @huntsmen-united )

It just so happened that Bear, or well, [----], from the hastily done pin on their apron strings was just getting off work. Most of the time, they'd handle the transitionary closing shift for when BRING ME COFFEE OR BRING ME DEATH would prepare for the influx of customers that were sure to come in the night, and so when the store was arguably at its busiest in the one hour of rest, there always happened to be let's say, unpleasant closers who barged in and made everything worse for everyone.

This customer was one of those people.

Wow. Big customer. Bear had to swallow past the lump in their throat that appeared once he was looming over the counter with those wings of his. It's almost terrifying how large he was while going on ranting about "basic drink making skills" and pointing to the "20 year anniversary" board to ask about "if you've even learnt anything in that time." Most customers were hard to calm down. But Bear had a strategy nailed down: offer a free drink, grovel and beg and bow a few times, and wipe the sweat off your brow after the customer leaves with a grumble. It's natural that a species such as them was accustomed to dealing with larger, more irritable predators, what with their history of scraping by life's offerings for basic survival, but in this coffee shop, the counter was a battle they were more than well equipped to win. And by God they will win.

First, however, they tuck their employee pin into their pocket. Just so he wouldn't get any ideas and threaten to call the manager on them. Manager, being them. But, there was no harm in being cautious. Compared to the displeased customer, Bear's presence had the sense of someone desperately trying to blend into the background. In their black shirt and their chestnut brown work apron, they stood at a much shorter height, barely reaching the angel's shoulder as they took the counter, shoulders surprisingly broad for one of their stature.

Dark brown eyes that crinkled with age stare up at the man under even darker black bangs that fall across their face so neatly, you'd think the mess was part of their disguise. Instead, they look at his eyes (which seemed to have softened?) with a confident neutral customer service expression, only made more successful with the lack of life in their face whatsoever. It'd be concerning if he wasn't more focused on the drink. The only thing that disrupts this clandestine sequence is the slight bump in their nosebridge that peeks out before continuing straight down.

A quick glance at his drink does give them a crack in the mask, dread coloring their face as they realize that he's holding what is in fact, their drink. Which was a recipe that they were not selling today. Oh no. Employee privilege. Actually they can't let anyone know about this.

"Good evening Sir. I'm so sorry to hear about your drink, could I have your name and order number to reconfirm what you were promised?"

huntsmen-united

"Yeah I’m sure you’re sorry you —"

….

“You uh.."

oh my god. They are so pretty. Some people might be ashamed to think that, yet damn, he was just at a loss for words. Raphael knew his taste was sort of fucked, he thought his boss was hot after all and he was a tentacle monster, but this was its own battle. The way the sun hit their eyes was reminiscent of Amber, dark jets of hair framing them like curtains does an equally stunning window view. The man didn’t know where to look, face flushing ever so slightly before his eyes settled on their chest.

"Order, er, number 042… Malt Chocolate Special with almond milk ‘nd.. extra whip cream."

Gah! Why did he say that! He didn’t know much about how to be charming but those pick-up artist he watched said to never act emasculate around a women! They’ll lose interest immediately if you aren’t the natural leader of the pack! It’s biological! Science proves it! However… that pin … maybe it was different with non…nonbinaries? Is that the plural? maybe they’s aren’t prone to the same biological urges for an alpha.

Or maybe they are and he blew it. fuck. he went to smile at them, relieve some building anxiety, but he felt his fangs against his gums. He was too monstrous, he’d scare them away. After a quick flash of teeth he closed his mouth, letting his lips drift into an indifferent, ‘cool’ expression.

“It was too sweet, like a bioweapon in all honesty. Did … Did you make it, uh, ma'a—sir—" quick think of a gender neutral term! "—dollface?"

Was dollface gender neutral? There was boy dolls and they dolls, right?

“I was ‘promised’ something edible."

#ic #txt #rp #rp reply #bear trap #cw misgendering #kinda #cw misogyny #cw alpha male ideology #It’s bad HAHAHA

nothingofnotetomention

Hey sweets, rate this order.

Malt Chocolate Special with

1 half almond milk

1 half full cream milk

2 pumps of extra chocolate

2 pumps of biscoff

1 pump caramel

(extra whipped cream)

+ a kitkat topper

<3 - 🍷 (corkscrew - @huntsmen-united )

Woaw. 10/10. I like this drink very much. Though, it is on the "heavier" side for a morning energy boost, it works better as an evening pick-me-up, or conversely "a little sweet treat." The biscoff and malt blend expertly with the sweetness of the chocolate, along with the mildness of the almond milk doing its part to neutralize the potent full cream milk. The extra whipped cream and caramel is also yummy. You can mix that into the drink to have a milder end-of-cup experience and snack on the KitKat topper at the end if you are OK with getting your fingers dirty. We put the topper on separately sometimes if requested.

Fun facg. This is what I usually order when I am sleepy at 4pm. But of course I go to the other coffee shop across the street "Life's not good without your coffee right now" so as to avoid a biased customer experience. If you are one of the various sexualities and spectrums you cna use the code COFFEE4PRIDE to get 20% on your first order of the month in June. You can also sign u p for the loyalty program at BRING ME COFFEE OR BRING ME DEATH and receive a 2% discount on total orders until the end of June. Woaw. Thank you.

huntsmen-united

Is there any promotion where I can take You out for a discount? :3

I’ll sign up for YOUR loyalty program.

( -🍷 )

nothingofnotetomention

Im confused I am not on the menu and I am also not a drink 😧

huntsmen-united

It’s wordplay. Means I want to get a drink WITH you. I’m sure you’re clever enough to understand that, right?

#ic #txt #rp #( corkscrew 🍷)

nothingofnotetomention

Hey sweets, rate this order.

Malt Chocolate Special with

1 half almond milk

1 half full cream milk

2 pumps of extra chocolate

2 pumps of biscoff

1 pump caramel

(extra whipped cream)

+ a kitkat topper

<3 - 🍷 (corkscrew - @huntsmen-united )

Woaw. 10/10. I like this drink very much. Though, it is on the "heavier" side for a morning energy boost, it works better as an evening pick-me-up, or conversely "a little sweet treat." The biscoff and malt blend expertly with the sweetness of the chocolate, along with the mildness of the almond milk doing its part to neutralize the potent full cream milk. The extra whipped cream and caramel is also yummy. You can mix that into the drink to have a milder end-of-cup experience and snack on the KitKat topper at the end if you are OK with getting your fingers dirty. We put the topper on separately sometimes if requested.

Fun facg. This is what I usually order when I am sleepy at 4pm. But of course I go to the other coffee shop across the street "Life's not good without your coffee right now" so as to avoid a biased customer experience. If you are one of the various sexualities and spectrums you cna use the code COFFEE4PRIDE to get 20% on your first order of the month in June. You can also sign u p for the loyalty program at BRING ME COFFEE OR BRING ME DEATH and receive a 2% discount on total orders until the end of June. Woaw. Thank you.

huntsmen-united

Is there any promotion where I can take You out for a discount? :3

I’ll sign up for YOUR loyalty program.

( -🍷 )

#ic #txt #rp #rp reply #( corkscrew 🍷)

faithblight

Obviously? Oh Prince everyone knows you wear makeup you f*g bomb cherub. Don’t worry, it looks cute on you. Sure your boyfriend loves it. <3

( - corkscrew 🍷/ @huntsmen-united )

It's alright. I know you're just jealous because I don't grow mites in my stubble :)

huntsmen-united

At least I can grow one. You still rock little baby hairs because your face is too girlish to grow any. Like a doll.

faithblight

Been thinking about my face often? Maybe you're the f-g bomb instead. Sorry the me in your fantasies doesn't match up to the real thing, cherub.

But here. You can jerk off to this now. At least it'll be accurate.

huntsmen-united

What man gave you these?

Don’t send me a photo of your face covered in white cream someone will get the wrong idea you fruitcake.

#( corkscrew 🍷)#ic #rp #txt #cw slur #tw homophobia #claude

faithblight

Obviously? Oh Prince everyone knows you wear makeup you f*g bomb cherub. Don’t worry, it looks cute on you. Sure your boyfriend loves it. <3

( - corkscrew 🍷/ @huntsmen-united )

It's alright. I know you're just jealous because I don't grow mites in my stubble :)

huntsmen-united

At least I can grow one. You still rock little baby hairs because your face is too girlish to grow any. Like a doll.

#( - corkscrew 🍷)#txt #ic rp #rp reply #Claude <3

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