#‘which customer’ you ask. well first there was rude ice cream man

[fingertipsmp3]

Man, today was absolutely mental. I don’t think I’ve ever come so close to losing it with a customer

[cuttoothed]

Day 5 of @jonmartinweek for the prompt "scars". Set in a nebulous, post-finale future that may or may not take place in the same universe as the therapy fic.

Warnings: Martin is trans in this, and briefly discusses past gender dysphoria and suicidal ideation. There is also a scene where someone reacts poorly to Jon’s scars, and mention of other such instances (staring, whispering).

*

The Riverbank Cafe is their usual go-to for lunch; it’s small and cozy, generally quiet, and does truly excellent toasted sandwiches. It’s also not far to walk, which is nice on a day like today, when the air is chilly and damp.

The bell over the door jingles as they enter, and the waitress glances up from where she’s clearing a table. She’s new—or at least, Jon hasn’t seen her before—and looks more than a bit flustered by the modest lunch rush.

“Take a seat anywhere,” she calls, bustling off to help another customer. They find a table near the back and wait; they’re in no hurry. Jon is just warming up enough to take his coat off when she makes her way over to them, menus in hand.

“Sorry about the wait,” she says breathlessly. “It’s my first day.”

“No problem,” says Martin sympathetically. “First days are tough. I remember my first day at my old job, my boss was a right arse.”

Jon rolls his eyes affectionately, and tugs off his gloves and scarf as Martin takes a menu. He reaches for his own menu, and sees the waitress’ eyes widen, darting from the pale knife scar on his neck to the shiny flesh of his right hand. Her expression goes from shock to horror to pity in the space of a second.

“Oh god, what happened?” she blurts out, and then her face goes crimson and she’s looking anywhere but at Jon. “Sorry!” she stutters, “I didn’t mean—god, I’m sorry. I’ll just...I’ll come back in a few minutes.”

She hurries away, almost running, and Jon feels a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. Across from him, Martin looks furious, eyes blazing and jaw set angrily.

“I’m going to talk to the manager,” he says. “That was completely out of line!”

“It’s fine, Martin,” Jon tells him. “She didn’t mean anything.” She’s young—hardly more than a teenager—and she reacted in a perfectly understandable, instinctive way to the sight of not one but two horrible scars. Jon doesn’t want to get her in trouble on her first day,

“It doesn’t matter what she meant—” Martin begins, and then stops when Jon places a hand, the unburned one, over his. He huffs in annoyance.

“Fine,” he says. “Let’s—let’s get lunch to go though, okay? I’m not sure I can hold my tongue if we stay.”

“Okay,” Jon agrees; he’s lost his appetite anyway.

Jon isn’t vain. He knows how the scars look, and mostly, it doesn’t bother him. They don’t matter to anyone who matters to him; Martin loves him scars and all, and the friends he’s made here have never drawn attention to them or asked him to explain.

He sees people staring at them sometimes; especially children, who are too young to be polite about it. He’s heard the occasional “What’s wrong with that man?” and the whispered admonitions from parents or guardians to not be rude. For the most part, though, he can almost forget they exist, except in cold weather when his hand stiffens up, or when the deep muscle scars in his leg start aching, and he has to use his cane for a few days.

But inevitably, something always happens like today, and he’s forcefully reminded of them. Of the fact that he is wounded, damaged; of the other wounds that can’t be seen, that he and Martin both bear.

It’s not fair to Martin, either, having to put up with strangers staring or whispering when he’s with Jon. The constant, visible reminders of everything they’ve been through. Jon sees the way his expression goes hurt and closed off sometimes, when he sees the scar he gave Jon, and Jon wishes there was some way he could spare him the pain.

Jon will admit that the cafe incident throws him off kilter for the rest of the day. He doesn’t think he’s been obvious about it, however, until they’re getting ready for bed that night; he catches sight of his bare torso in the bedroom mirror, and flinches, and Martin frowns in a way that says they’re about to have a serious conversation.

“Are you all right?” he asks. Jon blinks at him, trying to look uncomprehending.

“Absolutely fine,” he says; Martin looks at him skeptically, and he relents. “I’ve been...a bit preoccupied, I suppose?”

“Moody,” Martin corrects, and Jon shrugs. Maybe.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Is it because of what happened at lunch?”

“It’s fine, Martin,” Jon tells him. Martin raises an eloquent eyebrow, which says louder than words: I don’t believe you. Jon knows from experience that Martin won’t relent until they talk about what’s wrong; a lesson learned from therapy, and yes, it’s the correct and healthy thing to do, but sometimes Jon would like to just stew in his feelings by himself a bit, thank you very much.

He sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “These—it can’t be nice, having a constant visual reminder of—of everything that happened.”

“Why are you apologizing to me?” Martin looks confused. “Those things—or, well, most of them, they happened to you, Jon. You’re the one who was hurt—who was deliberately put in harm’s way.”

“Yes, well, at least I don’t have to look at myself.”

Jon can’t keep the bitter note out of his voice, and there’s a taste like bile in the back of his throat. Martin is staring at him now, wide eyed. He sits down heavily on the bed and pats the space next to him. When Jon doesn’t move, he pats it again.

“Come here,” he says. “Please, Jon.”

Jon sits beside him, folding his arms defensively. He doesn’t want to hear reassurances now: that the scars don’t matter, that Martin loves him regardless. Even if it’s true, it doesn’t take away from their ugliness, from what they represent.

Martin doesn’t say anything immediately. Instead, he reaches down and pulls his t-shirt off over his head, leaving him in just his pajama bottoms. Jon’s eyes are drawn as always to the freckles on his shoulders, the wiry, ginger hair on his chest and belly, the softness and the strength of him. Martin takes Jon’s hand—the burned one—in his, and presses it to the pale, silvery scar on the right side of his belly.

“When you see this scar, does it remind you of the fact that my appendix burst when I was twelve and I almost died?”

“N-no,” says Jon. Martin’s told him the story, of course, but it’s an old scar, long since faded; the part Jon remembers most is Martin grinning with delight, telling him how the nurses in the hospital sneaked him extra ice cream while he was recovering.

“What about these?” Martin asks, moving Jon's hand up to his chest, to the faded t-anchor scars. “Do they make you think of how my dysphoria used to be so bad I wanted to die?”

“No—of course not!” Jon’s heart aches, and he clutches at Martin’s hand. Martin smiles.

“Good, because they shouldn’t. These scars mean I survived—I got the treatment I needed, and my life got better. I found you.”

“Martin,” Jon starts to say, but Martin shakes his head.

“I know it’s not the same. What was done to you, it was...horrifying. Monstrous. But it comes down to the same thing, Jon. Our scars might not be pretty, but they mean that we survived. You survived, and you’re here with me.” He tugs Jon’s hand up and presses a fierce kiss to the shiny, scarred skin across his knuckles. “I love them for that.”

Jon feels a lump rising in his throat, his vision blurring with tears. He wraps his arms around Martin and pulls him close, buries his face against Martin’s warm, solid shoulder. Martin’s hands pet soothingly over his back and sides, don’t flinch from the knot of scar tissue below Jon’s rib cage where the knife drove in, in those last, desperate moments.

“I love you,” he mumbles, his voice thick with emotion. It’s the only thing he can think to say. The only thing that really matters.

“I love you,” says Martin, and they stay like that for a while, skin to scarred skin.

[honeytae]

No cream, no sugar.

hey bubs! i’m back with some ultra fluff :) honestly i don’t even know what this is, but i just really want a nice little coffee date with min yoongi....and that’s all. soft and shy college!yoon makes the reader swoon over him (obviously) and they just have a nice little first meeting here. i hope you all enjoy! tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy genre: fluff (college! au) word count: 2.2k

The warm air of the cafe embraced you when you stepped inside, bell chiming over your head as your shoulders loosened at the familiar scent of frosted pastries and hot coffee. Scanning the empty tables, you breathed a sigh of relief, knowing you’d be able to get your work done in peace without any loud acquaintances bugging you. 

You’d already tried the library, and that had been enough of a disaster for the few minutes you stayed. 

Quickly shuffling over to the counter, you readjusted the strap of your bag, guiding it back up your sore shoulder as you quickly rambled off your coffee order. 

Ugh, these books are heavy. 

You graciously smiled once the barista set your cup down on the counter, thanking her with a nod before making your way to a vacant table across the room. 

You weren’t one to typically do your schoolwork anywhere but the desk placed beside your bed. However, with the way your roommates had been bickering lately, you hadn’t been able to get a thing done there. And since the library was always full of guys obnoxiously trying to pounce on every living breathing female, that wasn’t exactly an option either. 

Pulling out your textbook, you set it on the table with a huff, dread filling you at the dizzying words and numbers on the page. Taking a breath, you rolled your shoulders back in an attempt to calm yourself before tugging your notebook out of your bag and heading a title for your notes. 

You were four pages in before you heard the bell chime to indicate another customer entering, a slight feeling of disappointment filling you at the thought of anybody coming in to disturb the peace you’d built before the feeling seemed to vanish at once, instead replaced with a slight giddiness at the man who’d just stepped into the building. 

Min Yoongi.

You knew of him, but not much. You knew that he stayed away from parties, he lived off-campus and seemed to just stick to his own thing. 

Most importantly, you knew there was no need to worry about him since he was so quiet himself. In fact, he seemed to dodge any kind of unnecessary social interaction, so he’d probably be taking off with his coffee in a matter of minutes. 

Logistically, that’s all you knew about him. But you also knew he was super cute, and you had a definite budding crush on him. 

Deep brown eyes peeked out from underneath his beanie, dark hair swept over his forehead occasionally shifting to cover his irises, to which his nimble fingers almost immediately brushed the strands aside. 

The apples of his cheeks moved along with his mouth as he mumbled an order you couldn’t quite hear, causing you to lean a bit further onto your elbow in order to hopefully hear the next thing he said.

He had pale skin, a stark contrast to the dark hair color he was sporting, but his cheeks were a soft glow of pink, lips pouted slightly as he patiently waited for the barista to make his coffee. 

You knew it was rude to stare, but christ, you swore he was the prettiest human you’d ever seen. He had effortlessly put you in a trance.

Seeming to sense your eyes on him, the man turned to you, briefly catching your eyes before you diverted them back to your work on the table. 

Way to go, idiot.

You swore you could feel your heart beating out of your chest with the knowledge that you’d been caught red handed, cheeks burning as you clutched onto your pencil.

Scribbling down a few random loops, you tried your hardest to act occupied, only halting your actions when you heard footsteps approaching your table. 

Peeking to the side, you confirmed that there were a pair of roughed-up sneakers beside the legs of your table, eyes trailing up the torn pair of jeans and oversized hoodie adorning the figure to meet his dreamy chocolate orbs.

“Hi,” Yoongi smiled, holding up a little white pastry bag, “I saw you eyeing the display case so I just, picked up a few things since you look kind of busy.” He said shyly, offering it out to you with a slanted grin. 

Your eyes quickly shifted to the display case behind him, realizing that when you were staring at him, you could in fact pass it off as looking at the display case. Whether he genuinely thought that or not, you had no idea. 

“Oh, thank you.” You smiled back, hand brushing his for a moment as he transferred the bag to you. His fingers were warm, touch electrifying, causing your chest to erupt in butterflies as you now clutched the bag. 

His other hand held a lidded coffee cup, steam rising from the small mouth hole at the top. 

Peeking into the bag, you noticed multiple pastries stacked inside, grinning at the variety he had chosen. 

“Uh, Yoongi,” you spoke up, watching his eyebrows raise in surprise. Did he not know you knew his name? Did he even know your name?

“Do you want some? I mean, I can’t eat all this myself so,” You found yourself stumbling for an explanation, immediately relaxing when he easily nodded with a smile of his own. 

“Sure. I skipped breakfast anyway, so,” he shrugged, you nodding in encouragement as he lowered himself down into the chair across the high top table from you. 

Pushing your notebook aside, you opened the bag of pastries, spreading them out atop the paper material with a raise of your brows. 

“These look really fucking good.” You said without thinking, covering your mouth with a muffled noise as you realized you’d sworn. 

Yoongi, to your surprise, broke out into a full-on grin, shoulders shaking in a quiet chuckle as he switched his gaze to the pastries you’d laid out. 

“They do.” He agreed, smile fading as he slid back into his cool demeanor. 

You were instantly captivated by the man, the way his face melted into a smile, the way the apples of his cheeks pushed up and made his eyes wrinkle slightly, the sparkle in his orbs. 

Clearing your throat, you drew his attention again, properly introducing yourself with a murmur of your name. You nearly passed out in your chair as the man chuckled again, eyes glittering at you as he nodded in response. 

“I know you.” He smiled, taking you by surprise as your shoulders eased slightly. It was nice to know he wasn’t laughing at you, at least not in a mean way. 

“We had some classes together last semester, right?” He asked, raising his eyebrows for you to confirm as he held a glazed danish in his left hand. 

“Yeah, that’s right.” You nodded, surprised he remembered as you watched him munch on the treat. 

You watched as his eyes pointed out the window, studying his beautiful side profile as his cheek filled adorably with the danish in his hand. 

His eyelashes fanned out in front of him, blinking every few moments as his orbs flitted over the street outside. The slope of his nose was perfect, a round end meeting his pout that seemed to lift a bit at whatever he was looking at outside. 

Realizing you were being completely rude with all your staring, you shifted your attention to the notes on the edge of the table, scanning them with only the sound of clinking of dishes from the kitchen in the background. 

The man didn’t seem to be one for conversation, which was not entirely a shock to you. The silence was surprisingly comfortable though, which was a shock to you. Both of you nonchalantly munched on pastries, your gaze fixated on your work as you tried to take in all the information you’d read up on over the past hour. 

“You taking Stats this year?”

His soft voice interrupted the silence, causing you to glance up to see his own eyes pointed at your notebook, squinting at the figures to make them out from his upside-down angle.

“Yeah,” you nodded, then sighed, “sadly.”

Yoongi’s lips quirked a bit at that, smile lasting a bit longer than the last one as he leaned over further to check out your notes. The action caused a wave of his cologne to hit your nostrils, a sweet herbal smell mixed with the cotton scent of his detergent. 

It fit the man so well, his shy yet soft demeanor being as comforting as the spray he’d put on his neck this morning. 

“God, I remember that.” He seemed to say to himself before leaning back in his chair, hands holding his coffee secure on the tabletop. 

“It’s horrible. Not that Doctor O. is any help.” You mumbled, face lighting up slightly at the sound of Yoongi’s chuckle again. 

“Yeah, he sucks.” He agreed, taking a sip of his coffee as he seemed to internally debate his next words. 

“If you ever, uh,” He stumbled, frowning before he tried again, “if you ever need any help, I’ve taken that course before, so,” He offered with a shrug of his shoulders, so casually shy about the extension for help that you nearly pouted at the endearing man. 

“Thank you.” You smiled, the man nodding politely as he watched you tap the eraser end of your pencil against the table, your actions pausing as you realized he was tuned into it.

“Sorry.” You chuckled, the man shaking his head to dismiss your apology with a small grin. 

Reaching for your iced latte, you sipped the cold liquid from the straw, frowning slightly at the cup when you realized it was nearly gone.

“You’re fine.” His teeth shone at you, eyes filled with something mirroring endearment as they traced over your features. You felt flustered under his gaze, diverting your eyes to the coffee cup in his hand and gesturing to it. 

“What’d you get?” You asked, the man’s own eyes shifting to the cup before he raised it in front of his face. 

“Just coffee.” He responded, causing you to tip your head at him in confusion. 

“No cream, no sugar.” He elaborated, causing your face to twist in disgust, Yoongi’s face lighting up at your reaction. 

“What’s that for?” He raised his eyebrows in amusement, another smile greeting you as you chuckled in response, raising your eyebrows back at him. 

“I think I’d rather take ten more years of Doctor O’s class than drink a single sip of plain black coffee.” You grimaced, Yoongi’s laugh causing your face to crinkle into another smile as you bit into one of the doughnuts he’d brought for you. 

The conversation flowed with ease after that. 

You discussed all the biggest campus scandals, rolled your eyes about all the same teachers, laughed about the one time Yoongi had gone to a party and ended up having to carry his two abliterated best friends home. 

“That scene isn’t really for me.” He followed the story up with, making you nod in understanding as you waited for him to talk more. 

You talked about your hobbies, finding out that you actually did have a lot in common. You both wrote in your free time, loved sleep, and were just trying to make it. 

You were both broke college students, working multiple jobs to keep up with the cost of your educations. He picked up any hours he could get at a bookstore just down the road, which made you feel warm and fuzzy while imagining him in that position. 

It was another thing that fit perfectly, the vision of him in a calm and quiet bookstore surrounded by endless shelves of novels. 

He liked to read, he said, but he didn’t have much free time nowadays to read anything other than his textbooks. You sighed in agreement then, feeling a reprieve from trying to act as if you weren’t buried shoulders high in work to get your degree. 

You felt a peculiar sense of comfort with Yoongi despite this being your first conversation, his voice gentle and thoughts genuinely intriguing as you’d not heard him speak much before today. 

Suddenly, the man seemed to remember something as he moved to retrieve his cell phone from his pocket, squinting at the screen under the table. 

“Oh shit, I have to go. 5 o’clock lecture.” He muttered as he looked at the time on his phone, tone sounding slightly disappointed as he shoved the device back in his pocket. 

You watched as he took your pencil between his fingers, clutching it to scribble a small set of numbers at the top of your notes. 

“If you ever need help, or, just want to talk shit about Doctor O.” He explained with another shrug, placing the pencil down in its previous spot on your notebook as you smiled in response.

“Thank you, Yoongi.” You said, the man picking his almost empty coffee cup off the table with a slanted smile, your eyes remaining on him as he stood from his seat.

“I look forward to our next coffee shop shit-talking.” You leaned on the heels of your palms to look up at him, the man humming with a small grin. 

“Me too. Same time next week?” He smirked, erupting into a smile when you agreed. 

“See you then.” 

Hiding your smile behind your hand, you watched as he waddled cutely toward the exit, pushing his shoulder against the door and sending a final smile and wave your way as he exited the cafe. 

Perhaps you had some fond feelings for Min Yoongi.

[spxllcxstxr]

Post-Hogwarts Enemies to Lovers with Sirius • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Warnings: firewhiskey mention, weed mention?, Death Eaters, curses (both language and magic), near death experiences, blood and injury mentions

Request: Hello! Can I have a Sirius headcanon please, one where it’s post Hogwarts in the time of the first wizarding war, and reader was a quiet, loner ravenclaw when she was in Hogwarts whereas Sirius was obviously very popular and loud, and they didn’t like eachother back then but now they’re in the order and dating and it’s just enemies to lovers angst to fluff 🥺 — @mabelle-cherie

A.N: Headcanons are weird because I have no idea if this is long or short. Anyway. I might’ve strayed a little away from the request? But it’s essentially the same. I think I like this one, actually...Love you all ❤️

Sirius Black was the most obnoxious entity you’ve ever encountered

James Potter was obviously a close second

Remus Lupin was tolerable, but only when his nose was stuffed in a book and when he was alone

Peter Pettigrew? He was more scared of you than you were of him. Completely harmless

They would strut around the castle, smug looks glued on their faces, like they owned the place

And you know what?

They practically did

Ever since they pulled their first prank, they’ve had the entire school wrapped around their fingers

Classmates idolized them

Teachers struggled to hide fond smiles

You despised it

You were here to sit, learn enough to get a good job, and keep your head down

The so called “Marauders” obviously had their own plans

The second Sirius witnessed you scoff and roll your eyes at another one of their stupid disruptive pranks, you were on his radar

The first time Sirius ever directly spoke to you, you were in the farthest corner of the library buried underneath a mountain of books trying to finish your three essays

You didn’t even notice him until—

“(Y/Ln), right?”

You were too busy writing about the Goblin Rebellion of 1612 to even entertain the idea of giving him a proper response

So in your haze, you just gave him your default response

“Piss off, Black.”

If you said that to any other person, it would’ve worked

But Sirius Black is not any other person, unfortunately

“Well that’s not very nice, love, now is it?”

And thus, your enemyship begins

That was in your fifth year, meaning you had about two and a half more years dealing with him and his merry band of pricks

By the next day, you were ready to toss yourself out of the Astronomy Tower

He now spots you in every room you’re in together, which is a huge inconvenience, considering you would rather be left alone and unbothered

But he prances towards you, shit eating grin plastered on his face, ringed fingers raking through his hair

He’s a pest

“Leave me alone, Black.”

“Aw c’mon, (Y/Ln), I’m just saving you from being lonely.”

“I’m not lonely.”

“Well you don’t talk to anyone. That’s lonely.”

“I talk to people, Black. I just don’t talk to you.”

You try to leave with the last laugh

You really do

“Pretty sure you’re talkin’ to me right now, love.”

His stupid infuriating smirk makes you wanna hex him into oblivion

Instead, you walk away fuming

And that’s how the rest of your time at Hogwarts goes

Sirius Black bothers the shit outta you

You tell him to go fuck himself

He doesn’t

Wash, rinse, repeat

There are a few times your patience wears so thin that you throw a couple hexes his way

You’ve reversed his knees, made his head grow four sizes too big (to finally contain that ego of his, you told him), made his toenails grow straight through his shoes, and even managed to shave off some of his precious hair

And yet he still came back

Every single time

Sirius would just brush it off and laugh like it was the funniest thing in the world

At that point, what do you do?

You try to ignore him the best you can

There are times you find him alone, drunk on top of the astronomy tower

Or high behind greenhouse number two

You like him better this way

He seems more real

Not because he’s under the influence

But because he’s not giving you a cocky smirk or a wink and laughing at every little move you make

You almost tolerate him

But then the next morning he’s back to calling you love and shouting at you at the top of his lungs across the Great Hall

And you’re back to hating him again

You’re counting down the days to graduation

And when it finally comes you bid him a firm farewell

Sirius finishes off with a “More like see ya later, (Y/Ln), love”

But you don’t care because the next day you have your bags packed to study in Bulgaria

But with one foot out the door you get an urgent letter

Something called the Order of the Phoenix

And and after carefully scanning through the contents of the letter

You unpack

And go meet up with your old Headmaster

Headquarters is a dilapidated shack on the outside

Chipped paint, broken shutters, water damage, the works

But the inside is elegant

Long purple rugs running throughout the house covering dark wood flooring, glass vases, magical artifacts strewn on top of dark counter tops

Sirius Black sitting, cigarette in one hand, twirling his wand in the other—

Sirius Black?

You almost march straight out the door

But you’ve already been spotted by Dumbledore and Alastor Moody, so you can’t exactly back out now

“Long time, no see, love, eh?”

The smirk, the attitude, the wink

It’s all there

Thankfully, he’s sitting in the middle of his friend group, so when you take a seat at the table, there’s about four people between the two of you

You smile at Alice and Frank, who you only know because they helped you with potions assignments a few years prior

You notice a glimmering ring on her finger

Everyone turns deathly serious when Dumbledore and Moody start explaining the situation with Voldemort and his Death Eaters

And how the Ministry of Magic is practically incompetent, though you knew that already

Even Sirius knew when to keep his mouth shut

He sat there, smoking, taking harsh sips of firewhiskey

Yes,

You noticed

You noticed how his fists would clench in anger

And how he silently swore

When James would put a hand of his shoulder to calm him down

And when Remus would start edging away his tumbler

He would twist the rings of his fingers

And smoke through an entire pack of cigs during the meeting

You’re not going to Bulgaria anymore, you’ve decided

Everyone got assigned stations they would patrol

Just your luck

You got Diagon Alley

With Sirius Black

You want to slam your head on the table

“Did you really bribe Dumbledore and Moody to put us together, Black?”

“It won’t be so bad, (Y/Ln), promise.”

“You’re a prat.”

“Well now that’s just rude.”

So everyday, you and Sirius donned dark cloaks that covered your faces and ambled through Diagon Alley, keeping an eye and an ear out for anything out of place

You would stop into shops, pretend to browse through items, keeping an eye on people

Sirius would convince you to get ice cream or stop in the Leaky Cauldron

You hate to admit it

But these little breaks the two of you took together were...

Nice?

The two of you would just be sat in the farthest corner of the tavern

Cigarette smoke swirling around

Eyes watching through the haze

There’s small talk between the two of you, but mostly silence

“The Potters died a month ago.”

He tells you out of the blue, eyes still trained on the other customers

You might not know Sirius Black well, but everyone knows how he ran away from his abusive home to James Potter in sixth year

“I’m so sorry, what was it, if it’s ok to ask.”

“Dragon pox.” He takes a second to exhale completely. “They were old, they knew it was coming. Just doesn’t feel right.”

So that’s how your partnership works

Sirius would be utterly insufferable during meetings and other get togethers

Silent during patrol

At least one of you would spill some secret or heartbreaking thought while on break

And then it would be back to silent concentration

Maybe you didn’t hate him anymore

But you certainly didn’t like him

About six months into your recruitment into the Order, you get a tip off about a huge Death Eater raid in a nearby Muggle village

Moody leads the rest of the Order to the village, and sure enough, there’s a crowd of Death Eaters dressed in black cloaks and silver masks already starting to make their way down the hill and into the main square

Spells are shot at an alarming rate

You’re forced to run, dodge, hide

You have have to not only fight a whole group of people happy to use Dark magic, but you have to continuously check on the numerous Muggle families asleep in their homes

It’s tiring

There’s bruises and cuts all over you

Lily had to save your arse a few times

You shoved James out of the way from the Cruciatus curse, getting hit with it instead

You were staggering, barely taking in enough air, but still you fired off spell after spell

You lean heavily against a wall, the bricks digging into your skin

The world around you spins and turns blurry

You fight to hang on, but your body is in so much pain it wants to shut down

You get cornered by a tall man in a dark cloak and a skeletal mask

“Well, well, how unfortunate.”

Your ears are ringing but you can hear him loud and clear

A gloved hand slips into his cloak and produces a silver dagger, shining in the pale moonlight

“Maybe I’ll gut you the Muggle way.”

He chuckles darkly, and you shudder in fright

The tip of the blade just touches your abdomen, the cool point sending goosebumps up your skin

You try to muster all the strength you have left in you, but it’s not enough to break free and fight back

You get ready to accept your fate

“Get off of her, you bastard!”

A figure bodyslams the Death Eater away from you

And the two of them roll around on the street, the silver of the blade flashing between the two forms

You have no idea who’s winning

You do hear a guttural cry coming from Sirius, but when you look back down, the Death Eater is apprehended and there’s a fresh and bloody cut across Sirius’ collarbone

Somehow, anger surges up in you

“You could’ve died, Sirius! You shouldn’t have been so stupid and reckless!”

You shout, pushing yourself off the wall and limping towards him

One of the Prewett twins comes to take the Death Eater away

Sirius scoffs

“Since when did you care about me?”

“You’re my partner, Sirius! Of course I care about you!”

At this point, the two of you are face to face, close enough to smell stale cigarettes and cinnamon on his breath. Copper mingles with the scent

“That’s the first time you’ve called me Sirius, (Y/n).”

He points out softly

You two are so close, eyes gazing into eyes

No, you don’t kiss

You got hit by the torture curse like fifteen minutes ago and then almost got impaled

You faint directly into his arms

How romantic

You wake up on the black velvet couch in headquarters

However, when you turn your head to the side, eyes open, you notice the head of a shaggy black dog resting near your face

Their ears are back, sad and glistening eyes staring at you, nose wet and cold.

The dog perks up when he spots that you’re awake

You hear their tail thunk against the base of the couch

You move your hand to scratch behind those soft ears

The dog whines and sighs in happiness

And then suddenly the dog in gone

And Sirius Black is kneeling at your side instead

“Always knew you were a dog.” You mumble out

“I saved you, and you call me a dog? How kind.” Sirius smiles, relieved

You soften. “Thank you, Sirius. Thought I was a goner.”

He brings a hand up to your face, his thumb rubbing your cheekbone gently “Just glad you’re safe and awake.”

You lean into his warm touch

“Can I kiss you, (Y/n)?” He asks softly, stormy eyes flicking between your eyes and your lips

You notice that he calls you by your first name

“You save me once and now you think you can kiss me, Black?”

You raise an eyebrow, but you aren’t serious.

His face falls and he opens his mouth the apologize, the thumb in your cheek stuttering

“Oh, alright, Sirius...I don’t mind.”

His face lifts back up at your smile

And he kisses you lightly on the lips

“Been waiting to do that for years.” He tells you when you finally separate for air

“Don’t be a prat, Sirius.”

And you know what?

You never hated Sirius Black

You especially didn’t hate Sirius Black now, that’s for sure

You would even say that you love him

Even when he is a prick

•

Sirius Black Taglist: @fific7 @quindolyn @msmb

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco

[lukin08]

All Summer Long

Here is my submission for the Summer Lovin @frozines.  A big thanks to @punkpoemprose for putting this together.  Amazing, as always

Rating: T

Words: 5261

Also available on AO3

The bell dinged over the door as Anna pulled it open. She took pause at the sound and looked around. At first glance, the store looked exactly as it had from her childhood. Knotty pine planks lined the walls and ceilings matching the cedar siding on the outside of the building. T-shirts ran across the top of the long back wall, all beckoning tourists to purchase them. The racks leading over to the checkout were full of snacks and hats for anyone unfortunate to have forgotten their own. Anna walked over reading all the fronts of the baseball caps. She had to use all her self-control to not grab the pink and black one that read ‘Boat Waves, Sun Rays and Torch Lake Days’.

After closer inspection, much had changed to Pabbie’s. New floors, a quick serve area that had about every grab and go food you could think of, and most importantly, a bakery and ice cream counter all filled out the large space.

She was flipping through a rack of sweatshirts when a voice called out. “On your left, Red.”

Anna jumped out of the way as a man passed her quickly carrying two large boxes over his shoulder.

“Sven!” A middle-aged woman called, following quickly behind him.

“Gotta go. We’re on fire today!”

“You tell him I need his order today before 5.”

“I’ll try.”

“Do it or you’ll be out of luck next weekend! No pilfering from the store when you run out of supplies anymore. It’s messing up my books!”

“Love you too, Bulda!” He said, flashing her a grin then disappearing out the front door.

The woman stopped next to Anna, put her hands on her hips and sighed. “Those two will be the death of me, I swear.”

“Everything ok?”

The woman looked at Anna and smiled. “It gets busier earlier every summer. Used to be until the third week of June when the water got warm when the crowds started, but we’ve been running full steam since before Memorial Day.”

“Wow. That early?”

“Who would have thought? Guess we aren’t the best kept secret of Michigan anymore.” The woman took a long look at Anna. “Anything I can help you with?”

Anna glanced out the window at the marina. “I actually had a question about an installation for a dock. Do I need to go next door?”

The woman waved her hand. “No need for that. Follow me.”

Anna followed her over to a counter at the other end of the room. The sign above it on the wall read ‘Torch Lake Marina’. There was all sorts of literature on boat rentals and storage and marine services on the counter.

“I didn’t realize the marina was part of Pabbie’s. I had to double check the address when saw it.”

“We purchased it a few years ago. Now what can I do for you?”

“I need to schedule a dock installation.”

Anna gave her the information and after a few minutes she had a time for the next week for the Marina to come out.

“Arendelle. Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in years. There was a family that had a place on Cherry Road named Arendelle. Are you any relation to them?”

“Yes. That’s me… I mean that’s my family. My parents owned the house. We used to come up here a long time ago.”

“I remember your father. He was in here all the time with the boat in the summers. Got along well with my father. How is your family doing?”

That was all it took. One simple question and Anna was off, spilling her guts to a stranger. She explained her parents' passing five years prior and the over ten-year absence due to her parent’s intense focus on her sister’s health. But Anna was back with a vision for the house and being up at the lake this summer was just what she needed. Internally she was screaming at herself to just stop talking. But Bulda kept asking her questions and seemed genuinely interested in what she was saying that Anna just couldn’t stop.

“That all sounds amazing, dear. You must keep me updated with how things are going. Can I give you one piece of advice?”

“Sure.”

“Make sure to take a minute to breathe now and then. You can blink and the entire summer will be over.”

“I will. Some friends from home are coming up tomorrow. I think we are going to head over to the sandbar. It should be fun!”

“Or at least entertaining. The sandbar on the weekend is always good for that.”

-------

This wasn’t what Anna had envisioned for a day out on the water. The morning had started fine. Anna was thrilled to be back out on the water again. To understand the depths of Torch Lake’s beauty and appreciate its deep aqua and turquoise colors, you really had to take it in with your own eyes on the lake. It was even fun at first when they anchored at the sandbar. But things took a turn for the worse as the day went on.

They anchored with a group of boats and the faces were all familiar. The uppity groups she remembered from school, all in the same social circles her family were in hadn’t changed a bit. They played their music too loud, drank too much and Anna quickly remembered why she left Ann Arbor as soon as she could. As much as she was trying to rekindle old relationships, perhaps some of them were better left as old friends.

Fending wanting to check out more of the sandbar, Anna decided to venture away from the group. It was easy getting around. Barring the occasional deep spot, the water wasn’t more than up to her thighs most of the time and in some stretches it was only at her ankles. There was over two miles to walk if she wanted, but Anna was on a mission.

Rumor was there was a pontoon that served food on the sandbar. She didn’t really believe it, but she was intrigued enough to go in search of it. After a few questions and only getting turned around twice between all the boats she looked up at the large yellow and black sign that read ‘Burger Barge’ stretched across the pontoon.

After spotting what looked like the area to order, Anna went up the side of the boat. As soon as the person in front of her was handed the foil wrapped sandwich, she stepped up closer. “I’ll have a burger. That’s all you have, right? Or is there something else?”

The man up at the boat was in front of the grill. He didn’t bother to look up. “A little busy here.”

“I can wait. How long do you think?”

He pointed his spatula down to the end of the boat. “Order in the back, princess. Just like everyone else.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I saw you hand a burger to someone. I thought-“

“Does it look like I take orders here?” he snapped. “Do you see the prices anywhere? You think I’m going to handle everyone’s money and cook all the food at the same time?”

“I’m sorry, I-“

“Do I know you?” He had stopped what he was doing and was staring at her now.

“Excuse me?” Anna tried to make out his features, but his blond bangs hung over a wide bandana covering his forehead and sunglasses obscured his eyes.

“Do I know you,” he said slower, dropping his sunglasses down to get a better look. His brown eyes glared over at her.

Anna crossed her arms in front of her, annoyed at the tone he was taking with her. “You most certainly do not!”

He grinned, which only infuriated Anna. “Good. Line’s at the back of the boat. Get moving.” He pointed again and went back to flipping the food on the grill.

“Well maybe I don’t want to eat here anymore.”

“Suit yourself. Good luck finding something else to eat out here.”

“Rude,” Anna said under her breath. She went to walk away because he did not deserve her business. But her stomach rumbled in protest and what other option did she have?

The line was long and snaked behind a few other boats. It only gave Anna time to stew on the conversation and what an absolute ass the cook had been.

“Hey, Red! From Pabbie’s right?”

Anna was almost taken back at the smiling face in front of her. “Yes. Sven? Did I get that right? I think that’s what the owner called you.”

“You got it. I’m always having someone chase me down calling my name. What can I get you?”

Anna bit her bottom lip looking at the choices. “What do you recommend- the chicken sandwich or the burger?”

“You can’t go wrong with anything, but,” Sven leaned forward. “We’ve got the best burgers on the lake. Trust me, I know the cook.”

“Oh, him.”

Sven glanced behind him then back at Anna. “From here or…somewhere else?”

“A few minutes ago.”

Sven’s face relaxed and he smiled again. “Don’t mind Kris. His bark is worse than his bite.”

“I don’t plan on talking to him again, but thanks.”

“Stick with me Red this summer at the Burger Barge. I won’t steer you wrong.” Sven handed her the burger and a canned drink. “The Coke’s on me. For your pain and suffering.” He winked at her before turning away to take the next customer’s order.

------

The truck pulled onto the driveway, the long trailer behind it making a metallic rattle against the sections of dock it was carrying. Anna got up from her chair on the beach and threw on a shirt over her bikini top, not bothering to button it up. Old shorts and cover up seemed appropriate enough to meet with the dock installers. She was halfway back to the house when two men got out of the truck.

“I don’t know. Go ring the doorbell.”

The voice that got out of the passenger side was familiar, but he was turned away from Anna. She jogged over, waving her hand. “No need. I’m here.”

“Red!” Sven turned and grinned. “We keep running into each other!”

“Hi Sven. And it’s Anna. Anna Arendelle.”

Sven tipped his hat. “Pleased to meet you, Anna…officially that is. How was the burger?”

“Best one I’ve had in years.”

Sven laughed. “I knew it!” He pointed across the truck. “I think you’ve met my business partner.”

Anna looked through the windows of the truck and recognized him immediately. He was standing there with his head down, clearly not happy. “Oh no.”

Sven bumped Anna’s shoulder. “Relax. If it makes you feel any better, he’s probably freaking out right now.”

Anna giggled as she looked through the window again and saw the man take a deep breath and go to walk around the truck.

“Anna, Kristoff,” Sven said as he introduced them.

“Ma’am,” Kristoff said.

There was a part of Anna that was pleased with how nervous he looked, but she decided to let him off the hook. “Just Anna please.”

Kristoff nodded. “Anna, could you show us where you want the dock?”

A few minutes later, Sven and Kristoff were rolling the sections of the dock down to the beach. Anna took her place back on the beach and picked up her notebook. Sven made small talk with Anna as she went through her plans for the house. Kristoff, on the other hand, kept his words short and only talked to Sven about what they were working on. Still, Anna found herself drawn to Kristoff, watching him from behind her sunglasses. He was easy to keep an eye on, watching him work in the water with just his swim trunks on, the muscles in his back flexing against the weight of the dock. A girl could get used to a view like that.

“Pay no attention to my rude friend,” Sven said as he leveled the two closest sections of the dock together. “He doesn’t like talking to anyone who isn’t a local.”

“I’m a local.”

Kristoff barked a sharp laugh. “For what, five minutes?”

“Ok. Then how long until I’m considered local.”

“Make it past Labor Day and we’ll talk.”

A little later Sven ran back to the marina to pick up extra posts, leaving Anna and Kristoff alone. Anna watched as Kristoff looked like he was mulling something over. After a few minutes he took a deep breath.

“I’d like to apologize for how I talked to you on Saturday. It was rude and unprofessional, and I shouldn’t have done it.”

“No you shouldn’t have.”

“The guy in front of you was trying to scam me for a free burger. Said the order was wrong. It wasn’t. What a crook.”

Anna laughed remembering the scowl on Kristoff’s face. “Apology accepted.”

“Thanks.”

“So, you aren’t just the Burger Barge’s master chef, I see,” Anna said as she watched Kristoff work.

“That’s just a weekend gig Sven and I came up with to make extra money when we were in college. It just took off and we haven’t stopped. I run the marina most of the time.”

“So that’s connected to Pabbies?”

Kristoff nodded. “Family business. It was my grandfather’s. My mom and dad took it over when I was kid and have been running it for years now. We bought the marina when I came on full time after school.”

“We used to go there all the time. It’s one of the good memories I have of my childhood. Spending time on the lake and going over to Pabbies to get a snack was the highlight of my summers. I was so sad when we stopped coming up to the lake.”

Kristoff was leaning against one of the posts now, watching Anna. “So, what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Its just you in this giant house by yourself? Seems like a waste.”

“My sister didn’t want to deal with it anymore. It's all part of her freeing herself from worldly possessions process she’s going through. I couldn’t bear the idea of selling it and I needed a fresh start, so I bought out her half from her.”

“So, you’re just here with no plans?”

“If you must know, I do have plans. I’m updating the house and turning it into a bed and breakfast. And I’m going to run it.”

“Great. For more rich tourists to find the lake.”

Anna shook her head. “No. I want it to be affordable. I want people to bring their families and get to enjoy the lake like I did as a child. I want them to have those memories. As many people as possible. There’s so much land on the property, I was thinking of eventually expanding if it goes well. Maybe even hosting weddings. This house was built to be filled with joy and laughter of many people. I feel it in my bones.”

Kristoff went back to anchoring one of the posts. “Sounds ambitious.” Anna was about to argue with him when he added. “But nice. We need more of that around here.”

-----

Anna wasn’t exactly sure why she was nervous, but she was pacing up and down the landing outside of Pabbie’s waiting for Kristoff. They had struck up a bit of a working relationship, with Kristoff working on several smaller outdoor projects on the house as the main work inside was being done. She looked forward every day when he strolled onto the property after his work at the marina, often staying for dinner when she absolutely insisted. He seemed less and less resistant to stay every time she asked. Today was the most excited she’d been all summer. Her boat had arrived at the marina and Kristoff called her that morning saying it was ready for her to pick up. Now she was waiting for her to bring it around and take it out for a test run.

“Need a lift?”

Anna spun around only to see Kristoff pulling up along the landing with a big grin on his face. He put the boat in neutral and waved at her to come over to the edge. In one strong movement, Kristoff lifted her at the waist and into the boat. Anna let out a small squeak when he put her down, breathless at how effortless Kristoff made that look. He went slowly out of the marina area and past the no wake zone of the sand bar. As soon as they were past the buoy, he turned to Anna. “I’ll take it out then show you where everything is. Then it’s all yours.”

“Sounds great!”

“Where to?”

“Anywhere.”

“Want me to open it up? This baby goes fast.”

“Yes! I love to go fast!”

Kristoff gave her another grin and let open the throttle.

-----

They were out in the middle of the lake where Anna had stopped the boat. She was laying on the back of the boat without a care in the world. The water had been too tempting, and she couldn’t resist jumping in. Safely that is, Kristoff insisted on her wearing her life jacket out in the open water. Now she was laying on the towel, stretched out enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun. Anna felt Kristoff’s eyes on her, but she didn’t dare look over.

Kristoff leaned back on the seat, stretching his legs out. “We’ll get the boatlift put in tomorrow then I’ll bring the boat over.”

“Sounds like a plan. Hey, I need an opinion.”

“Ok.”

“How many boats do you think I should have for next summer? I want the guests to be able to go out on the lake and enjoy it. I was thinking about one pontoon, but is that enough?”

“You want my honest opinion?”

“Duh. That’s why I asked you?”

“None.”

Anna lifted her head and looked at Kristoff. “Wait, what? None?”

“You heard me. Boats are a lot of work and you already have one. What you need is kayaks and paddle boards, a couple canoes and maybe a raft for swimming. That’s all. Keep it non-motorized.”

“But don’t you think I should have something?”

“Not everyone will want to use them. Plus, the expense of keeping them up and the insurance is only going to force you to keep your rates higher.”

“Mmm, suppose you’re right…for once.”

“Watch it.”

Anna pondered her options for a few minutes before sitting up, stretching and wrapping the towel around her. “I’ll just have to recommend Torch Lake Marina as our exclusive source for rentals.”

“I think we may be able to work a deal out with…wait, have you come up with a name for the B&B yet?”

“Working on it.” Anna looked up at the afternoon sun, wishing the day could last longer. “I suppose we should head back. I’ve kept you out too long.”

“I didn’t mind. It was nice spending the time with you. Let’s just hope Sven Actually did some work while I was gone.”

Anna tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “It was nice today, wasn’t it?”

“Hey Anna?”

“Mmm?”

“I won’t be able to come out to the house for a few days.”

She sat down in one of the seats, feeling a sense of disappointment that she wouldn’t be seeing Kristoff, but also that he hadn’t asked her something different.

“Of course. Is everything alright?”

“Just gearing up for the 4th. It’s going to be hectic. Sven and I are going to be out on the boat at the sandbar all week. I wish we could both grow an extra set of arms its going to be so busy. But I’ll see you for the fireworks if you still want to go.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Oh wait! I just had the best idea!”

“What?”

“Do you trust me?”

------

“Who thought this was a good idea?” Kristoff was tapping on the wheel of the pontoon waiting at the landing at Pabbie’s.

“This was all you, my friend,” Sven said with a laugh. “Relax. Anna will be fine, and we need all the help we can get this week.”

“She’s late. We should have left by now.”

“Five minutes isn’t going to change anything.”

“Have you seen the boats out there already?”

Sven rolled his eyes then pointed to the parking lot. “There she is.”

“What the hell is she carrying?”

“I’m here!” Anna yelled walking as fast as she could with the large cardboard box. As soon as she got to the boat, Sven grabbed the box and helped her step on. Kristoff was already in the process of untying the ropes and started moving before Anna sat down.

“Don’t mind him, Red,” Sven said. “He’ll calm down once we get anchored in a good spot. What did you bring?”

Anna smiled. “I’ll show you as soon as we get set up.”

She took the short time it took to ferry out to the sandbar to relax. Anna wasn’t sure what Kristoff’s reaction was going to be with the surprise, but she hoped he was open to it.

“Absolutely not.” Kristoff shook his head when Anna showed him the t-shirts that read ‘Burger Barge Torch Lake’ on them with a silhouette of the pontoon.

“Why?” Anna and Sven whined simultaneously.

“How are we going to sell those and the food? And I don’t have the money to pay you for those, Anna.”

“Relax. You have me to help and I promise I won’t sell a single shirt that gets in the way of the food orders.”

“No one’s going to want those.”

“Wanna bet? You take care of the burgers and I’ll stay out of your way and help sell these. You can pay me back out of the profits from the shirt sales. If they don’t sell, I’ll eat the cost.” Sven and Anna stood there holding their breaths. Finally, Kristoff relented, his face softening. “Ok, but the food is a priority.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

“Don’t start.”

-----

The fire was soothing as Anna sat near it on the double swing. She was bone tired from working these last few days on the pontoon and staying up for the fireworks tonight. But it was a good tired. An ache from an honest day’s work and pure satisfaction. Kristoff came over and sat next to her. He handed her a stack of bills.

“What’s this?”

“Your cut from the week.”

“I don’t need-“

“You earned it. We made more than ever, even splitting it three ways. There’s also the money for the shirts.”

Anna gave Kristoff an impish grin. “I already placed another order. Told you we’d sell out.”

“You were right, and I was wrong.”

“Mmm say that again.”

Kristoff nudged Anna. “Seriously. Thank you for helping us.”

“Anytime.” She rested her head on Kristoff’s shoulder. “How do you do this all the time.”

“You get used to it. Its only for a few weeks in the summer then it quiets down.

“Still impressive.” Anna looked over at the property’s dock and noted the flags flying. “So, who’s the Michigan State fan?”

“Oh that? It’s where I went to school.”

Anna chuckled. “My dad would not be happy with you.”

“University of Michigan alum?”

“Worse, he was the president of the school.”

“The president? Let me guess. You and your sister followed suit.”

“My sister went full ivy league. I pushed back against every expectation and went to Ohio State.”

“Ohio State?! That’s treason. I’d tell you to fly that flag at your place, but it would be like putting a target on your back.”

“Guess I should fly the Michigan State flag then.”

“Nope. Not allowed unless you have someone that lives there.”

“Maybe one day,” Anna said through a yawn as her eyes closed.

The next thing she remembered were warm strong arms carrying her back to the truck to take her home.

-------

“I can’t believe how much nicer it is on the sandbar today!” Anna looked around. There were people, but the masses were gone. There were places to move and not a drunken party every ten feet.

Kristoff was sitting on the back platform of Anna’s boat, legs hanging in the water. “Sven, tell Anna the rules of the sandbars for the locals. Since she isn’t one, she needs to know.”

Sven came over to the group and hopped up on the platform. “Rule 1!” He called out. “Never go to the sandbar on the weekend!” Everyone raised their drinks and cheered. “Rule 2. Stay away from the west side. Only tourists go there! Rule 3. Don’t act like an asshole! And Rule 4. The most important of them all. Don’t engage with the tourists!” Everyone cheered. “Here’s to making it through August everyone. One more week and the summer season is officially done.”

They all clinked their glasses together in solidarity.

The rest of the day was a blast. Anna spent her time talking to everyone, playing games and even making plans to meet up with a few of the girls the next week. It had taken all summer, but Anna felt that she was finally starting to feel at home. She found herself walking with Kristoff later. She also found herself being a little flirtier than usually, a little more playful than normal. Maybe it was her comfort level, maybe it was their seclusion away from the group. Whatever it was, Kristoff didn’t seem to mind.

“I bet I can.”

“No way.”

“Three tries.”

“Three. That’s it. Then you have to admit you can’t do it.’

“Deal,” Anna said in agreement. “Now hold your hands out like that. Remember if you take a step, then I win.”

“And what do you win?” The grin on Kristoff felt dangerous. Anna didn’t want him to stop.

“I’ll tell you after I win.”

She squared herself up to Kristoff, lined her hands up with his, pulled them back and then pushed as hard as she could, contacting his palms. Kristoff stumbled back, surprised at Anna’s force. But then he took another step back, losing his balance as he stumbled and fell into a deep spot on the sandbar.

Anna was doubled over in laughter when he came out of the water soaked and hair flattened down past his eyebrows. “You think that’s funny?” he said, brushing his hair back with his hands.

“N-no, no!” Anna said, trying to talk and laugh at the same time. “I got you. I totally got you!”

“I’ll show you something funny!”

Anna didn’t stand a chance. She screamed in laughter as Kristoff scooped her up and ran. “Kristoff, put me down!”

“Oh, you want down?”

“Yes!”

“Ok.”

Kristoff unceremoniously threw Anna off the edge of the sandbar. Anna screamed, hitting the water. She didn’t stay under long, a strong arm grabbing her, bringing her up. Kristoff was standing just where Anna couldn’t touch the bottom. He held her tight, his hands wrapped around her bare waist.

“You dirty rat. I won.”

“Yeah, what are you going to do about it?”

They didn’t move, locked close together. Anna’s breath hitched at the way Kristoff was looking at her with a want in his eyes. She gave into it too, closing her eyes, leaning in ever so.

“Kris! Anna! Where are you? Time to go! We’re heading out!”

Anna broke away from Kristoff, the moment lost. “We should head back,” she said, walking back to the boat without waiting for him.

-----

“Oh hi, dear.” Bulda was restocking the shelves with shirts. “Anything you need?”

“I was actually looking for Kristoff. Is he over at the marina?”

“He took off early to do some work over at my house for me.”

“How’s he been?” Anna was following Bulda around as she went to clean up the counter near the bakery section.

“Fine. A little quiet. But nothing unusual. Why? Is there something I should be concerned with?”

“No. I just haven’t seen him since before Labor Day and I was wondering how he was.” Anna looked down, wringing her hands. “Bulda, can I ask you a question?”

“Anytime dear.”

“Have you ever tried to do something that you wanted to do, I mean really want to, but then miss your opportunity? And then make it worse because you doubt yourself and over analyze everything. Then make it weird and even more worse by avoiding it all together?”

Bulda stopped what she was working on to listen to Anna. “I don’t know about anything that specific, but I will say that holding something back never helps. Best to just get out what you need to do and move along. Otherwise, it festers.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Anna turned to look across the street at the home on the lake. “So next door?”

Bulda nodded. “In the backyard.”

She knew he saw her, pretending not to notice, then giving in and walking over to the swing.

“Hey.”

Anna patted the seat. “Sit with me.”

He sat, dropping the weight of his body the last few inches with a weary sigh. Neither of them said anything at first as they slowly swayed back and forth.

“Anna, I'm sorry.”

“Kris, there’s nothing to be sorry about."

“But there is. I’m sorry if I read something wrong and made you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t.”

“Then why have you been ignoring me?”

Anna turned to face Kristoff. “The house is finished and the permits came this week. I think I can start having guests this fall. I just need to get the staff up and running and the marketing done.”

“That’s great. But I don’t understand what that has anything to do with what we’re talking about.”

“It does. The house. The project. It’s the first time I’ve ever been able to do something truly for myself. Where I can say this was my idea. This is what I want to do. Do you know how scary that can be?”

“I guess.” Kristoff was leaning forward, elbows on his thighs, clearly concerned with the conversation. When Anna placed her hand on his thigh, he looked up at her.

“There’s other things that I want too. But that’s just as frightening sometimes to trust my feelings.” Anna took Kristoff’s hand and led him to sit back up and face her. “I’m the one who’s sorry. For ignoring you and for ever doubting what I want. Because I know. I truly know there’s nothing more I want right now than you.”

Anna felt Kristoff's whole body go from rigid and defensive to relaxed. He grinned at her, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. “You know I have a rule,” he said resting his head against the back of the swing.

“Still won’t consider me a local. Ridiculous.”

“Well, you did make it past Labor Day, so I guess you are officially a local now.”

“Would you stop talking and kiss me?”

“Gladly.”

His hand cupped Anna’s cheek pulling her into a soft kiss. Anna closed her eyes, grinning through the kiss as she savored the moment, never wanting it to end. A cool breeze blew in from the lake. Kristoff wrapped Anna tighter in his arms as she shivered. It was a reminder of how quickly things could change and this time Anna welcomed it with arms wide open.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, I finally have a name for the B&B.”

“What’s that?”

“The Toasted Marshmallow.”

Kristoff let out a hearty laugh.

“You like it?”

Kristoff leaned down lips brushing Annas. “I absolutely love it,” he said before kissing her again.

[vemuabhi]

Sanji - Ice cream

Annyong Haseyo!!! I kinda changed the prompt a bit, to fit the story.

Prompt by @nottbilly (wattpad)

Pairing : Sanji X Reader

Warnings : Just fluff!

Word count : 2.3K

Modern Universe

Summary : Sanji is a regular at the icecream parlour you work at. Every time he brought a different date to the place. One day, he was alone and you decided to talk to him. Would this blossom into something new? Lets find out!

A/N : Being a hoe for this man Sanji, I can’t help but write when I find suitable prompts for him. Most of the prompts which I read, I automatically imagine with him. But this, is definitely his character.

There he came again, with a different girl. It’s been 5 months since you started to work in this Ice cream parlour in the evenings. Serving customers ice creams and cold drinks was your part time job and, every week at least 3 times you saw the same blond with different girl.

The first meeting of you two was also awkward. It was the start of the new semester in colleges when you started to work here. One day, when the blond was about to leave because his date cancelled on him, he came towards you and said, “Hey! You are really cute. Do you come here often?”

“Actually… I work here”, you replied. His cheeks turned red due to embarrassment and he left the place. You thought he’d never return… But you were so wrong.

In the beginning you didn’t care much but, as he was a regular, your interest perked up. You listened to how he tried to talk to the girls but… oh god… he was so bad in flirting. You were sure, the girls used to come with him to get free ice cream.

He greeted you every time he came and he seemed like a nice guy. You witnessed many confessions, rejections. Honestly, he was actually handsome, but his flirting, his actions, mostly scared away or creeped out his dates. You really felt bad, when he left the place dejected every single time.

After 5 months you saw him again, but for the first time, he was alone. He had no company. He came towards you and asked for his regular flavour.

“Will anyone join you?”, his expression changed to an awkward one. ‘Oh no… did I offend him?’, you panicked then he sighed and said, “No, I don’t have a date today. No one even wants to come for a free ice cream now”

He took the ice cream from your hands and sat on the chair. He scrolled his phone as he ate in silence. He was always lively, always smiling and trying to impress his date, while they always were bored or just plain ignored him by texting someone else. You looked outside and noticed that, no one was coming to the shop. So, you took off the hat and placed it on the counter. You headed over to the blond and asked, “If no one is coming, do you mind if I give you company? I mean, I don’t feel like costumers will come now. So… What do you say?”. It felt like it took some time for him to register what you said to him. He quickly stood up and shouted, “YES YES YES PLEASE! THANKYOU”.

You chuckled and sat opposite to him as he gripped the table before him nervously. It was quiet for a few seconds. You thought he’d talk first but, you decided to break the silence ‘cause he seemed nervous.

“So, I’m Y/N by the way. Just working here part time to make extra bucks”

“Oh forgive my behaviour. I didn’t introduce myself first. I’m Sanji. I study at the university near this place. So, I tend to come here whenever I try to get a date”

“Woah! Is that so? So, what are you studying there? It’s so hard to get accepted into that university, tell me about yourself Sanji”, you placed your hands on the table before you and listened to him.

Sanji told you about his culinary course and how he was into cooking from a young age. You really got interested as he talked about how he was a cook and wanted to open a restaurant soon. As food being your love of life, you couldn’t help but to be curious of his cooking.

“And I am sure this is weird but, if you would like to try, I’d love to bring something for you to eat”, he scratched the back of his neck anxiously.

“Yes! I’d love to. I know it’s weird but, I’d definitely love to try your cooking”, the blush on his face reddened as you said that.

“Then its set. I’ll make something for you”, he chuckled. Now to raise your most awaited question and concern.

“Sanji… I am not trying to be rude and I know this is our first conversation but, are you… are you working out or doing any sports or yoga. I mean you… are a regular to this place, coming here 3 times a week… You are taking care of yourself right? I am not judging you… just worried”

His cheeks turned red with embarrassment as he answered, “I actually work out 5 times a week and sometimes do martial arts. Thank you for worrying about me” he looked at his thighs and stayed quiet.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”, concern clearly visible on your face, you asked him. He looked up and said, “This… This is the first time, a lady showed interest in what I am doing and even worried about me so… It just feels over whelming”

He was dramatic but, you could understand it because you always watched him… the way he praised his dates, flirted with them, all the time they were here. You never heard him tell anything about himself. So… you decided to lift up the sprits.

“Don’t worry, you are really fun to talk to and also… handsome”, you averted your eyes and whispered the last part. It was barely audible but Sanji heard it. His cheeks turned pink as you said that to him.

“Thank…you”, he murmured and your gaze shifted back to him.

He tried to cool his heated face and brought the ice cream towards his lips. He licked the melting cream and smiled as he looked at you.

You talked about yourself and he listened carefully. You talked about your hobbies and dreams. He excitedly asked you about them and why you like them. He was really listening to you. He wasn’t acting. You both got carried away as you a lot. You literally introduced him to your world. He ever listened to the songs you liked or the read the books you admired. He was genuinely interested when you talked about them.

“Oh my! Y/N, these are amazing. I might get addicted to them”, he said. You were about to talk more but were a customer entered the place.

Getting up from the seat quickly you went towards the counter and handed the customer what they needed. Then your gaze shifted to the blond, who now stood before the counter and was held out his money for the ice cream. You shook your head no and said, “You don’t have to pay for that. It’s my treat”

“Wait why I’m a guy? I should pay, but you didn’t even eat anything. I am practically paying for myself”

“Is there any rule that, girls can’t pay for their dates?”, the date word slipped out of your mouth by accident but, it resulted him to blush harder.

“I… I’m not saying that”, he pouted and whined, “This was a date. You said it. You cant take that back”, making you chuckle.

“Yeah… I guess I can’t. Well, in return, I did have a date with… a cute guy”, you murmured the last part as you looked down, making him gulp.

Placing his elbows on the counter gently he leaned towards you. “Beware, if you keep doing things like this I might kiss you”, he whispered near your ear.

Your face heated up as you felt his breath near your eat. ‘Was he always this confident always?’, you thought as you looked at him. He had a cocky smirk on his face. Then his phone buzzed. He pulled back and you nodded at him to check it.

“Damn it… I can’t believe it”, he said as he looked at you.

“Its okay, go back. It’s not safe to stay late”, you smirked as he took your hand.

“I just can’t believe it. I’m leaving first on a date. Usually its always-”

“YOU. I know. It’s alright for you to leave. It’s not a crime. Now go back”, you insisted as you placed your free hand on his. He tugged on your hands and asked, “You’ll be here tomorrow also, right?”

You giggled and said, “No. I won’t”

He was shocked at what you said. You chuckled at his expression and said, “I’m having a day off tomorrow”

He sighed as he frowned. “You almost had me”, he huffed and continued, “Then, can I take you out on a date tomorrow again”, he asked and you nodded yes. He smiled as he reluctantly let your hand go and walked towards the door. He looked back at you as he waved bye. You returned his action and he left the place.

The next date, you got to eat one of the best dishes he cooked. It was absolutely delicious. The next date was a movie and the other was at a park. You both really had a great time together.

At Sanji’s house

After some date, at last you were coming to his house so Sanji was getting super nervous. But the ruckus on the dining table made it even more irritating to him.

“SANJIIII MEATTT!!!!”, shouted Luffy as he kept stuffing his mouth with Ussop’s food, making the latter cry as Zoro just gulped down the beer he got in the fridge.

“GET OUT YOU THREE! A very important guest is coming today. So scram”, Sanji practically tried to kick them out but the bell rang.

“OMG! You two. Be polite”, he glared at the duo and opened the door with a smile.

“Welco- Oh! Nami san, what brings you here?”, he asked her nervously.

“Wha?! Did you just stop smiling after looking at me”, she asked as she folded her hands.

“Oh my No never Nami san! I’m… happy that you are here”, he said.

“Sanji weren’t you the one who said that I was always invited to your house?”

“Yes milady”

“Then move or do you not want me to-”

“OMG! Sorry and please come in”, he said. His nervousness was making it hard for him to think properly.

“Franky will be here soon”, she said to the blond as they both entered the living room. Sanji clicked his tongue and thought why everyone were here now out of all other days.

“Someone is apparently coming here”, Said Ussop to the ginger as she sat beside him.

“Really? Who is it?”, she asked the long nose as he shrugged. “Come to think of it, he isn’t trying to be so flirty with me anymore”, Nami said as she got comfy on the couch. “He is also smiling and texting a lot”, said Zoro and it perked the interest of the two.

“So… tell me, what’s happening”, asked Nami with a smirk. The bell rang again and Sanji again went to open the door thinking Franky. He opened the door with a annoyed look on his face but his eyes met with yours.

“Oh my. What happened Sanji? Is this a wrong time? I’ll go if it-”

“NO! no my dear. It’s not. I thought my friend came over”, he said as he held your hands and placed a kiss on them. You blushed as he did it. ‘Damn his charming attitude’, you thought and then you heard.

“What are you guys doing?”

You and Sanji turned towards the door. There you saw 3 guys and a girl. Excluding the guy eating something, the other three looked like… they were spying something. Sanji sighed and said, “This is Y/N, we are dating”, he pulled you close to him as he placed his hand on your shoulder.

“WAIT WHAT!!!!”, shouted the guy with the long nose as he came closer to you. The orange haired girl was also in front of you in a split second.

“You agreed to go out with him?”, she asked

“Are you an actress by any chance and is he paying you to act”, asked a man with green hair.

“Oye!! Why are you all so shocked? It’s true. We both are dating. Don’t scare her”, he said as he hugged you closer.

“Yes, we are dating”, you smiled as you hugged him back and added, “He is such a gentleman and is so caring” making him blush

The three whistled at you two and Sanji led you inside. Soon they were introduced to you. Apparently, four more people entered the place without announcing.

You had a lot of fun with Sanji’s friends, now your friends too. Everyone played, ate and sang. Soon, it was already evening and everyone left the place. You stayed and helped Sanji to clean.

“Tsk… I thought we could’ve spent time together. You only get 2 days off work”, he pouted. You ruffled his hair and smiled at him. Leaning your elbows at the counter, you looked at him and said, “It’s okay. Your friends are really good. I enjoyed my time here”.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and smiled. “If you enjoyed, then it’s fine”, he said as he tucked a strand of hair around your ear and looked deep into your eyes.

You knew what he was trying to ask, but was nervous. “Sanji, its okay”, you said as you placed your arms around his neck. Slowly he leaned down and his lips met yours. They were soft. He gently tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Your hands travelled to his hair and shoulders. His arms pulled you even closer and one of his hand, gently stroked your cheek. You broke the kiss to look at him. You both smiled at each other as your foreheads touched.

Thanks for reading. Please Like/Vote, Comment and Reblog/Share.

XOXOXOXO

PS : For some art of this story click this.

Follow to support me.

[after-witch]

Oh Sugar Sugar (Part 1) (Yandere L Lawliet x Reader)

Title: Oh Sugar Sugar (Part 1) (Yandere L Lawliet x Reader)

Synopsis: You’re the loving owner of a cute little pastry shop. A new regular falls in love with your pastries... and in love with something else, too. 

Word Count: 1754

Notes: yandere 

You hummed a little to yourself as you set out this morning’s special goodies in the display case. In addition to the daily treats that customers had come to expect--morning muffins, assortments of bagels, fruit tarts and crispy macarons with fillings that changed every day--you had a daily case filled with more detailed small pastries and cakes. You loved making these most of all, because they allowed you to truly take your time and focus on small, lovingly made details that weren’t present on bagels or muffins or the treats people liked to buy in bunches of a dozen.

These treats were far too ornate and time-consuming to make in large quantities, and sometimes there might be only one or two of each treat available. You especially loved when customers would eat these in the cafe itself; you loved seeing them snap photos for social media, then take that first bite and immediately forget about their phones as they savored the caramelized crusts or gooey handmade fillings or delicate chocolate ganaches.

You glanced at the candy pink clock on the wall, noted the time, and undid the latch keeping your little bakery closed to the public. At exactly 7 AM every morning, La Belle Pâtisserie--you secretly hoped that regulars would call it “La Belle’s”--was open for business.

You cheerfully placed yourself behind the register and waited with ease for the customers you’d come to expect every morning. A businessman whose schedule was so tight that you always had his order ready and waiting by the register before you opened up; a mother and daughter on their way to the girl’s school, grabbing macarons and sometimes a special cake to tuck into her lunch bag; ordinary people with ordinary lives, and you couldn’t be happier that your little place was part of that.

After the morning rush, you usually had some time to pop back into the kitchen and work on batches for the after-work rush or sometimes for tomorrow’s case. As you pulled out a tray of cooling blueberry macarons, you heard the doorbell chime go off and immediately piped up, sweet as--well, blueberry macarons: “Just one moment, please!” You heard a noise of affirmation, and as soon as you could set the tray down to cool, you walked back behind the register.

It was an older gentlemen, with salt and pepper hair and a business suit. Maybe a businessman on his break, you thought.

You smiled, bright and peppy. You loved your work and you hoped it always showed through how you interacted with clients, ‘customer service voice’ and all. “Is there anything in particular you’re looking for, sir? I don’t recognize your face, and I know all of my clients, so I’m happy to help you with any questions you have about our offerings today.”

His smile was cordial, if a bit stiff. “Thank you.” His eyes glanced over your cases, quickly taking in treats, cookies and cakes. Finally his eyes rested on your special case, filled with the delicacies and pastries that you poured your heart and soul into every night. “Do you have more of these in the back? I would like to get as many as possible.”

Your smile turned sympathetic. “Oh, I’m sorry, these are special items and I only have what’s in the case. They take much longer than our other items.”

“Hmm.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, then sighed and took a wallet out of his pocket. “I suppose I’ll take everything in that case, then,” he said, gesturing to your special case.

You practically sputtered. “The--the entire case? Are you sure, that’s a lotta--I mean, the total will be… are you sure?”

He gave a low, throaty chuckle. “I’m perfectly sure, miss.” He handed over a few large bills, enough to cover everything in the case and then sum. “I assume you accept tips. Please keep the remainder as a tip to make up for the pain of packing all these up.”

You accepted the money gratefully, stuttering out a few questions about bags before practically dashing around the register area like a mad chicken as you dutifully packed up each and every item. Of course, you took care to pack them as nicely as you would for someone buying just a single pastry--presentation was about the entire package, not only the pastry itself but the box, the ribbon, the daintily embossed logo in the center.

You thanked the man profusely on his way out, and when the door shut behind him--how he managed to balance all of those boxes, you’ll never know--you immediately yanked your cellphone from your apron pocket and texted your best friend about the enormously large and unusual sale.

**

The older gentlemen, as it turned out, became another one of your regulars. A few times a week he would come in and make a large purchase, leaving you with a nice tip. Once it became clear that he liked to empty out your entire specialty case, you began making a few extras each evening, since you didn’t want your other regulars to feel put-out by a complete lack of your familiar special pastries and cakes. It took more time, and you found yourself napping during your lunch break to catch up on much needed-rest, but the happiness of your customers was a deeply entrenched priority for you.

The older man always came in the late morning, during a lull, which was why you found yourself almost gaping when you turned around from your not-quite-closing-but-getting-there cleaning and saw him standing at the register.

“Oh!” You said, turning on your customer service smile. “I’m surprised to see you here this late!” You took a moment to look him over, and noticed that he looked slightly disheveled. It was unusual, but then, he was perhaps rushing to your shop to make it before it closed.

“I’m sorry to come this close to closing,” he said, slightly out of breath, confirming your suspicions. “But it’s an emergency.” He paused. “Well, a pastry emergency. I need one of your cakes.”

You chuckled. “You know, I shouldn’t say things like this, but too many sweets might not be good for you! I hope you aren’t eating them all at once.”

“Ahh,” he said, fiddling with his front suit pocket. For a moment you worried that you may have offended them. Good going, you thought to yourself, being rude to a loyal customer.

“Actually, I’m not a fan of sweets.” Your confusion must have shown on your face, so he quickly continued. “I’m buying them for an… associate. He can’t get enough of them. Especially when he’s busy working on something stressful--but he doesn’t want cakes from other bakeries now, only yours. Which is why I came so late, you see.”

“Ohhh.” It makes sense. The idea that someone wanted one of your cakes so much that they avoided other bakeries and sent someone running down before you closed is incredibly flattering, though you can’t help feel a twinge of sympathy for the older man who’s been running--well, cake errands.

“In that case!” You smiled, setting aside your flattery and slight pity. “I will pick something special out for your friend. Hopefully it will help him de-stress! One moment please.” You quickly dart into the kitchen and head to your decorating table. You were just finishing up a cake that was supposed to go in the case for tomorrow morning, but you didn’t have any specialty cakes left in the case. It was a crepe cake, strawberry flavored, with a special hardened chocolate ganache top.

You quickly grabbed some boxes and ribbons to pack it up, but paused. He said his associate was stressed, and this associate was technically a great regular customer of yours, so why not add something extra nice? You picked up an icing tube and quickly scooped a batch of strawberry icing inside. With a practiced hand, you made a few strawberry shaped dollops on the chocolate disc; you dipped a toothpick on the pot of chocolate ganache and used them to make the seeds. Then, almost as an afterthought, you used the tube to add small, decorative hearts next to the strawberries.

You took great care to wrap the box up extra nicely, tying the ribbon picture-perfect, before you brought it out to the register. You dutifully took the payment (and, as you noticed, another excellent tip) and held out the box for inspect. The elder gentlemen took the box and, upon noticing that you’d written something on the top, raised both of his eyebrows, but said nothing. He thanked you for finding something suitable and promised he’d be back again soon.

Little did you know that your sweet little gesture would be your undoing.

**

Watari set the box down on the coffee table in front of L, who glanced up from a laptop screen.

“The video?”

Watari fiddled with his front pocket, then pulled out a tiny electronic piece from inside. “Just as you asked.”

L nodded approvingly. “Good. Hook it up to that monitor.”

Appeased, L finally glanced down at the cream-colored box, wrapped with a dusty pink ribbon and finished off with the personal scrawl you’d delighted in writing earlier.

It was L’s turn to raise his eyebrows. Watari watched as his lifted the box up with both his hands, bringing it inches away from his face for inspection.

L set the box in his lap, then brought his thumb up to his lips. “Watari. Make the arrangements. I want to meet them as soon as possible.”

He retraced your loopy scrawl on the top of the cake box with his finger, seemingly entranced.

“Please enjoy…. made… with love.”

[mexicancat-girl]

Miraculous Ladybug Sugar Prompts

Because there’s enough hate and salt in this fandom, might as well lighten things up with some positivity.

Marinette brings in leftovers from her parent’s bakery to class so they don’t go to waste, an overflowing box of pastries and breads, before class starts. Everyone in class smiles and thanks her profusely for her kindness, the dreary Monday made a little sweeter by her. Adrien is particularly happy at snagging a croissant, and Nathaniel quietly thanks her for keeping his Kosher diet in mind.

Adrien always makes sure to say hello to all his classmates in the morning, because he knows how it feels like to be ignored and alone in the mornings in his home. He’s like a bright ball of sunshine. Everyone in class feels a little more willing to face the day with his genuine smile and goodwill to start them off. 

Alya gets an excited fan running up to her, realizing she’s the runner of the Ladyblog, and asking for her autograph. The fan thanks her for being so brave and amazing, running around to show Paris what the heroes are doing. Alya recognizes how important her sacrifices mean to the people of Paris, even when she’s not a superhero.

Nino is well-known in his community as being the local DJ for hire. After DJing for someone’s birthday, the family that hired him praise him for being so talented and hardworking, such a young enterpreneur! The others at the party also praise and compliment him, and Nino’s left with a plate of leftovers, a check, and his heart full of pride and happiness that his efforts are paying off in these small ways. He might not be famous yet, or anytime soon, but people enjoying his music and his DJing is still great.

Nathaniel is working on sketches with Marc in the park, when a little girl excitedly runs up to them and asks Nathaniel if he can draw her. The girl’s father catches up and apologizes for his daughter’s rudeness. Nathaniel gives a shocked look over at a smiling Marc, before assuring that it’s fine, he can draw the man’s daughter ‘as practice’. After gifting the girl the drawing, the little girl squeals and hugs him, thanking him profusely. Nathaniel is flustered, especially when the father slips him a bill as a thank you, leaving with his daughter before the artist can stutter out a refusal. Marc giggles and congratulates him on the commission, and Nathaniel laughs helplessly, feeling happy he could make that little girl’s day brighter.

Kim has a swim meet he’s been practicing for weeks. His entire class shows up to cheer him on, and he feels happy and grateful for the support. He ends up coming in at second place, glad he placed, but internally disappointed he didn’t end up getting first. All his classmates cheer for him and assure him that he’s amazing, starting up a chant of “Kim! Kim! Kim!”. The athlete ends up smiling wide and laughing, buoeyed by his friends’ support. He realizes that he might not have gotten first, but he still accomplished something great.

Alix is doing skate tricks in the park, gathering a bit of an audience cheering her on. She smiles and waves at them, going about her laps, before doing an impressive crazy stunt. Everyone has their phones out recording her, cheering loudly and going wild. Alix grins and pants for breath as people start coming up to pat her on the back or congratulate her on the amazing move. She feels proud that people acknowledge her skills

Max and Markov are going to have a presentation with a technology company, which Max is nervous about. He keeps making calculations on how well the meeting will go versus it ending up in disaster. His friends talk him through his anxieties, trying to tell him that he doesn’t need to constantly calculate the possibilities. He just has to go into the meeting and do the best he can. He’s smart, and he knows his stuff. And if it doesn’t work out this time, there’s always next time. Max calms down, bolstered by the support of his friends, and gains a bit of hope and confidence. He takes the advice to heart.

Sabrina spends a weekend with her father doing everything she wants to do, because Roger wants to treat his daughter and catch up with her. He’s been so busy with Akuma, he feels like he hasn’t been there enough for her. So Sabrina and her father sit down to eat pizza and watch one of Sabrina’s favorite shows. The girl gushes about the show and explains the characters to her attentive listener. Her and her dad make ice cream sundaes and eat those as well. Sabrina turns her phone off for the entire weekend, so she won’t worry about anything except taking a relaxing weekend off.

Ivan is working on a new love song for Mylene. He gets the help from his friends in Kitty Section. Rose and Juleka are happy to help, and Luka is there to lend an ear as well and help calm them all down from overwhelming Ivan with nerves. They end up having a casual jam session, laughing and joking and eating snacks Anarka gives them. Ivan is glad he has such cool friends and band mates willing to help him. He’d thought he would be wasting their time with his problems, but they end up spending the time well by goofing off and bonding.

Mylene is excited to plant a new set of herbs for her herb garden. Her boyfriend Ivan is more than happy to help her with the task. And for once, her father has the day off, and helps as well. Mylene gets to spend the day with her two favorite and most important people in her life, helping her and supporting her interests and hobbies. After they’re done, the three attempt to make dinner together. Mylene keeps getting shooed off to do the easier tasks, because her father and boyfriend want her to not have to worry and do the bulk of the cooking. The food ends up looking a little messy and gets toastier than they wanted, but Mylene just laughs happily and thanks her papa and Ivan with kisses on the cheek.

Juleka is trying out new hairstyles one week. Luka helps her brush her hair and style it, the two using tons of bobby pins and looking up tutorials on their phones. She wants to try to see what looks good and what she feels good with, to branch out and be more fashionable. It’ll help her feel more comfortable as well, since she wants to try modeling. Her classmates compliment her different hairstyles, Rose gushing over Juleka the most. Getting constantly peppered in compliments makes Juleka flustered and blush, but she’s also enjoying the support and attention, happy that no matter what she looks like, people still like her.

Rose writes a song to perform for the school’s talent show. Everyone expects a cutesy love song, and are surprised when she starts a heavy rock song while screaming into the mic. Juleka and Ivan whoop and cheer for Kitty Section’s singer, and everyone realizes that Rose has more depth than her pretty in pink exterior shows. Her friends and classmates start rocking out to her song, cheering wildly when she finishes, the loudest group among the others cheering for her. Rose beams and bows, glad to see so much support for her singing.

Chloe has a hard time being nice to people or showing a soft side. So instead of using words, she starts giving people gifts instead. Is it bribery? Yeah. But getting gifts is what she’s used to, and she has tons of money, so why not use it? The class are surprised when she starts doing things like ordering catering for when they have class events, letting Sabrina borrow accessories from her, etc. She even wrinkles her nose and gifts Adrien a wheel of Camembert, telling him he needs to eat more, even if it is stinky cheese. The others in class slowly start to warm up to the queen bee.

Luka usually has a hard time asking for help. He’s used to being the older sibling, the one to take care of things. Used to taking care of the house when his mom’s out working. He’s trying to schedule school with Kitty Section practices and chores, and gets overwhelmed. Despite him trying to hide his stress, someone notices. One day, Juleka sits down with him, offering that she can be the one to shedule their practices for them, and organize their equipment. Luka already does a lot for their family and friends. Heart full and heart song singing, he hugs his little sister tightly and thanks her. It’s good to be reminded that he doesn’t have to be the one to support others, but that others can support him as well.

Kagami is still unfamiliar with social cues, especially as France’s customs are different than Japan’s. Much more familiar, might louder, than what she’s used to. Thankfully, through Adrien and Marinette’s help, Kagami gets slowly more accustomed. She goes to get ice cream with them, picks up on slang, is comfortable enough to allow for casual touches. She’s not sure if Paris will ever be her home, but with the help and support of her slowly growing list of friends, she believes that Paris will no longer feel like enemy territory. Possibly even a home away from home.

Lila sits in her room, alone, and doesn’t plan. Doesn’t scheme. Doesn’t worry about pretenses or spinning a web of lies. Her ailing grandmother calls her, voice kind, Nonna asking her if she’s read any new books or tried any new foods in France. And Lila allows herself an hour of telling her Nonna all the little things about Paris, the tastes and smells and sounds. Of the park near her school, the vendors on the street, the cafe she found and likes to sit and drink a coffee in. Nonna tells her kindly, “I’m glad you’re doing well in Paris. I’m sure your friends are helping you adjust.” Lila thanks her, giving her well-wishes, and hangs up. She wipes away the silent tears on her face. The hour of peace was nice, while it lasted.

[ashxketchum]

Writer’s Month - 2

Wow, not me writing something for two days in a row? This one is a stand-alone oneshot for now, but I think there is a lot of potential for a sequel, I even have some part of it clearly planned out so if time allows me to sit down with my laptop sooner than later, I’ll work on that! 

Fandom/Pairing: Digimon/Mimato (friendship, yes I am capable of writing something other than romance between these two hahahaaa) 

Prompt: Coffee shop setting, cold (Yamato is very cold here, it’s actually kinda angsty) 

Setting: Post Tri but pre Kizuna. Yamato is in his first year of college and Mimi is in her last year of high school. The basis for this fic is solely the dialogue in To Sora, I wanted to explore the idea of Mimi and Yamato growing closer and having important conversations with each other, but it had to have a rocky start and this is that rocky start! 

~

“I’ll have a venti matcha berry frappe, nonfat, refrigerated chilled milk, absolutely no ice, extra whipped cream, which, make sure, is layered perfectly, with three pumps of caramel syrup and two of vanilla.”

He could feel his manager’s eyes boring into his back, so Yamato did what any other good employee in his place would, he kept a straight face and diligently noted down the customer’s request before moving on to ringing it up without once bothering to look at the girl standing behind the counter or ask for her name. He wondered if his manager would find it strange, that he hadn’t taken the customer’s name, but seeing as Yamato was already putting all his effort into concentrating well on his job and not explode on the brunette who seemed to take some pleasure out of his misery, he decided that he was allowed this one slip and he’d deal with his manager later, since the bigger problem was in front of him, eyeing him with a teasing glint in her caramel eyes as he picked up the paper cup and moved over to the work station to begin working on her order. He did however, kept a track of what his manager was doing from the corner of his eye, and the minute the older man was out of sight, Yamato breathed a sigh of relief and spun on his feet.

“Please Mimi, by all means, go ahead and make my job more difficult.” Yamato seethed, managing to keep his voice low so as to not attract any attention to them.

“Well, if you’re going to ask that nicely.” Mimi smirked, as always she had the upper hand in the conversation due to the safety guaranteed by being a customer at the shop.

“Just take the drink and go, let me work in peace.” Yamato attempted to maintain a superior tone as he begged her to leave, turning again to add the finishing touches to her order as quickly as he could, before his superior caught whiff of his not so welcoming attitude towards their customers.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Mimi beamed at him, as she accepted the finished product from his hand, her fingers brushed against his for a brief moment, suddenly making Yamato hyper aware of the spot at the back of his hand.

“Don’t you have anything better to do? Entrance exams to worry about?” He asked exasperatedly, she seemed too carefree for someone who was in the last year of their high school, remembering his own experience of it from the previous year.

Mimi scoffed in reply, waving a hand in the air to brush aside his concern for her education, instead of turning to make her way out of the store now that she had received her order, she settled on the empty bar stool on the other side of the pick-up counter, resting one elbow on the counter top as she took careful sips of her drink from the other hand. He watched her like a hawk, Yamato wouldn’t put it past the brunette to make fake claims about the taste of the drink just to get him into trouble. 

This had been going on for a few months now, every time he had a shift during her after school hours, Mimi would make it her life’s purpose to show up and annoy him to no extent. He’d attempted to explain to her, that he really needed to keep this job to maintain his life expenses, but apparently the pleasure she took from watching him stumble around while making coffee seemed to take precedent over his livelihood.

Of course, Mimi wasn’t the only one to blame here, if only his roommate at the college dorm wasn’t a bigger pain in the ass, Yamato would never had have to take up this part-time job in the first place. When he had complained to his father about not being able to get along well with his roomie, instead of agreeing to raise his monthly allowance so that Yamato could move out and rent a place of his own, his father had promptly told him that as an adult, he should learn to solve his own problems from now on. Yamato had half a mind to remind his father that him and his friends had not only solved the Digital World’s problems on multiple occasions, but also saved their own world by doing so, but he had stayed quiet and accepted his fate. On Takeru’s recommendation he had taken up a part-time job at this popular coffee joint, the pay was decent and the hours weren’t too bad and well Yamato always had had a knack for being good in the kitchen, so it had been suiting his purposes of saving up to move out of the college dorm as soon as possible just well.

Until Mimi happened to walk in one day and decided to take matters into her own hands.

She had been surprised to see him behind the counter, and at first she had just been curious, about what he was doing here or what he had been up to since the graduation ceremony. Yamato had to admit, that ever since he had graduated high school, he’d finally understood what Jou had been struggling with for the longest time, it wasn’t easy to maintain friendships when one was thrust with the responsibility of taking care of every single aspect of their lives and somehow pursue studies on which one’s future life depended at the same time. He considered himself lucky, if he was able to have a phone conversation with Takeru that lasted more than 5 minutes in a day. So he hadn’t been wary of Mimi popping up every now and them, updating him about her and Koushiro’s school life, and sometimes Jou’s and Sora’s too. It gave him a way to stay connected with everyone without having to make time for them, and while he did feel guilty about this on multiple occasions, he was grateful for it too.

That was before Mimi got bored with just talking about their lives, and decided to spice up their encounters by getting him to light trouble with his manager. It was usually just silly little things like claiming he got her order wrong or giving extremely complicated and hard to follow requests, and she had never pulled something huge that would seriously get Yamato in trouble, but it was still frustrating and it ruined his mojo for the rest of his shift.

There was also the question of why Mimi had suddenly taken such a liking to spending time with him, of all people, since they had never been close enough for a relationship like this. They’d spent time together before sure, and they’d had their fair share of agreements and disagreements when it came to matters related to the Digital World, but apart from that Yamato could barely remember any interactions with her that didn’t circle back to the Digital World or their Digimon Partners. So the thought always nagged at him, at the back of his head, when she would appear with a skip in her step and fix him with one of the brightest smiles he knew.

But then she would go on to do something diabolical, and he’d be reminded of how similar she was to his little brother, which led to him missing Takeru and left him irritated and wishing for her to leave.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Yamato turned his attention towards the brunette sitting in front of him, she had set down the drink on the counter top and was currently surveying the store with her bright eyes, the mischievous glint in them indicating that she was just looking for something that could serve as prop of the day in interfering with his work. Relieved that he had caught her while she was still in her planning phase, Yamato decided to take control of the situation before his manager returned and reprimanded him for being rude to their customers.

“You really don’t have anything better to do?” Yamato began icily, making Mimi turn her gaze towards him, the challenging look on her face seemed to put the last nail to his patience’s coffin as he snapped at her, “Don’t you have any friends?”

He regretted it the minute those words left his mouth, biting his tongue in an attempt to stop himself from groaning outwardly.

The effect on Mimi was immediate, all colour drained from her face and her eyes shone with a blanket of tears just waiting to fall, but with a single blink she managed to keep them at bay and faced him with a hardened look as she replied quietly, “I thought that’s what we were.”

And before Yamato could make any attempts to take back his statements or even begin to apologize for his behaviour, Mimi was out of the door, leaving behind her drink on the counter and without sparing a single glance in his direction.

Yamato allowed himself to groan out loud when he picked up her cup to clear the counter and found that it was still heavy, she had barely begun to drink it. He couldn’t help but chide himself internally, for missing on something that was so obvious, for even deliberating on an answer that was right in front of his eyes this entire time.

Yamato couldn’t believe that he, of all people, had missed out on the signs of their budding friendship, had pushed it aside as nothing but an occasional nuisance within his routine. 

His optimistic side hoped that he would just explain himself to her when she’d show up tomorrow, even offer her her favourite drink for free as a token of his apology, but a tiny voice at the back of his head reminded him, that there was no way Mimi would come back to spend time with him after this.

Unfortunately, it was the tiny voice that prevailed in its prediction, as Mimi didn’t show the next day or the one after that, or after that.

At first Yamato consoled himself by devoting himself to the tasks at hand, happy to finally be able concentrate on his work, he managed to win praises from his manager on multiple occasions which pushed Mimi’s absence from his surroundings out of his head, and for a while it worked.

But then there were slow days, when he didn’t have much to do but stand behind the counter and look at all the people sitting around in groups of twos and threes, laughing and chatting loudly as they sipped their coffees and munched on their food. The sight would tug on an invisible string in his heart, make him long for Mimi’s teasing smile as she rattled off with an order comprising of the most incompatible ingredients, laughing loudly at the look of horror that would take over his face as he wrote down her instructions. There were days when the shop would be eerily silent, and he’d hear her voice in his head, telling him about something that had happened at school. There were days when someone would walk by with a pet, cuddling it and showering it with affection, making him miss Gabumon’s soft fur and he’d instinctively turn towards the pick-up counter, hoping to tell Mimi about it but was met with emptiness instead.

He hadn’t realised, just how much he had managed to share with her during their encounters, and how he had begun to depend on her company to get him through his mundane work life. And in true Yamato fashion, he had gone ahead and messed it all up by thinking about things from only his perspective.

His father’s words echoed in his mind once again, he had to learn to solve his own problems, and what better time to start than now?

[the-lady-writes-what]

Swing

1920′s Gangster AU

You're working one night at the club, singing on stage, when you catch the eye of dangerous yet handsome man. You can't help yourself when he sweeps your off your feet for the night and shows you more pleasure than you ever imagined.

Content: one instance of hair pulling and spanking, doggie style, voyeurism (if you squint), praise, a hint of fluff

                                                        ---080---

The air was choked by cigarette smoke, cheap booze, and lilac perfume. The syrupy-sweet fragrance stung the most. It was like huffing a can of hairspray that faintly smelled like flowers. You put up with the perfume and cloying cigarette smoke and a myriad of other things because of one vital thing. Money. You needed it. There was no other way to survive. In the world of bootleggers, gangsters, and smugglers, you were just a girl with a mic and love of music. You worked hard to earn your current position, starting from the bottom as one of those cigar girls parading around the club. It wasn't easy, either. If the boss hadn't just so happened to hear you singing to yourself as you helped clear out the dishes in the kitchen, you wouldn't be getting ready to go on stage.

The stage was a simple affair built with just enough space for you, a piano, and several sax and clarinet players. Your spotlights were dingy yellowish beams with only enough power to shine on one person on stage. Considering you were typically the prettiest thing on stage, the spotlight always shined on you. The curtains were still tied off either because nobody wanted to bother giving you the special entrance of a dramatically raised curtain. Besides, the curtains were little more than glorified rugs hung from the rafters. They smelled of dust and old cigar smoke, and you had to concentrate on not sneezing through your whole set.

You looked out from around the stage, but could hardly see anything through the haze of smoke. Nobody seemed to care or notice the clouds of cigarette smoke. Glasses clinked with boot-legged alcohol and laughter resounded in the air. Small tongues of the fire flickered in and out of the smoke, and another cigarette was sparked into life. You scrunched your nose up at the smell and looked down at your dress. Though it was a new number in your favorite color, you hated that it was coming home with your smelling of the club, and you couldn't afford dry cleaning. You berated yourself for not keeping it at home and wear a dress that you didn't mind smelling like cheap booze and cigar smoke. Oh well, too late now.

Your boss Toshinori complimented your 'wise' choice at the clingy chiffon that hugged your curves. He didn't say that in so many words, but you knew what he was thinking. At first, your brows furrowed at his words. Toshinori sweated up a storm and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. When you asked what the matter was, his face turned white as a sheet. Toshinori refused to say at first, however threatening to not go on stage made him reconsider. After your boss explained the situation, you wished that you hadn't asked in the first place. Now, you were suffering from an overpopulation of butterflies in your stomach. Your eyes glued themselves to the front entrance through which Toshinori's guests of honor were supposed to arrive. Assuming they weren't being tailed by the police or a rival gang.

However, the second you thought this, you chuckled. Rival gang? Like anyone would be stupid or crazy enough to go against Shouta "Eraserhead" Aizawa and his highly competent lieutenants, Present Mic and Midnight. Most of those who tried ended up in coffins. No wonder Toshinori looked like he was ready to give up the ghost.

It was ten minutes before showtime when you heard a bustle of activity at the front entrance. From where you stood on the stage, half-hiding behind the curtain, you barely saw the doors burst open. At first, you thought it could be the coppers come to shut down the bar and start passing around silver bracelets. Your eyes were glued on the trio entering the club. The blonde on the right wore a black and silver three-piece with his jacket unbuttoned, and his white leather shoes shined. The lady on the left wore a white double-breasted suit jacket and matching skirt. Her whole outfit was designed to show off her ample chest and long legs to distract from the fact that she twirled a knife in her hands like a child's toy. But these characters held little interest to you because your eyes were fixed on the man walking in the middle.

He wore a dark gray three-piece and a black coat that hung off his shoulders like a king's royal cape. Like you, his eyes were half-hidden behind a curtain of dark hair and the shadows of a black fedora. He walked with his hands in his pockets and with the air of someone who couldn't be touched. The man owned the room, and every set of eyeballs in it. Drinking and laughter died when he entered. Toshinori appeared scurrying out of his office as if told at the last minute that they arrived. He continued to wipe his drenched forehead with his handkerchief. He directed the trio to a booth, which faced the stage directly. You watched your boss bow profusely from the waist. The trio that just entered sat too far away from you to be able to hear. Exactly how they walked in, the blonde man sat on the right, the lady on the left, and the powerful individual with the black fedora sat in between them. You couldn't stop staring.

You glanced at the woman in the middle one's left. You swore you'd seen her somewhere before, but couldn't quite place it. It's rude to stare, yet you couldn't help yourself. Your hands fisted the old velvet curtains. Were these the people Toshinori invited to the club? The woman on the left noticed you staring. Before you could retreat, she locked eyes on you and winked. A boulder fell into your stomach.

You realized just where you saw her before at the club a couple weeks ago. The woman appeared to be a chatty, flirty customer but otherwise harmless.

"That's Nemuri "Midnight" Kayama. Second lieutenant to Eraserhead."

You jumped out of your skin at the sound of your pianist, Hitoshi, talking behind you.

"W-what? Her? But I thought—"

"That Midnight was a man? Don't let her looks fool you. I heard that she once highjacked a police van and helped the convicts inside escape."

"Then, who are the other guys?" You might have been better off not knowing, yet your curiosity got the better of you.

"The one on the right is Hizashi "Present Mic" Yamada. They say he's robbed every bank from here to New York. Thing is, nobody can pin them on him despite his boasting. He's loud, but he gets the job done."

"That means," you swallowed, "The one in the middle is…"

"Yup," said Hitoshi. "That's Eraserhead. The kingpin of this city. You see that scar? That's the only thing he got after fighting off the Shigaraki group a couple years ago. The man's quirk can erase his opponent's, so long as he doesn't blink."

Your legs turned to pudding. That man, oh, how you wished you could tear your eyes away. You rubbed your thighs. Something wet made your legs stick together; you hoped you were just nervously sweating and hadn't creamed yourself only by looking at the man. He was a bit shorter than the gigantic figure newspapers made him out to be, although not by many margins. With all of that black and the dark suit, Eraserhead made an imposing—if not terrifying—figure. Despite the dark material, you could still see the defined muscle rippling beneath the clothes he wore. He hadn't yet taken off his coat and hat, and it made you wonder if he was playing on leaving soon. His lieutenants appeared to be making themselves comfortable by ordering food and drink. However, their boss seemed less inclined to follow. All he got was a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass. Eraserhead served himself after testing the brand. Testing the taste or for poison, he left it to your imagination to choose which.

"I wouldn't get close if were you, Y/N. Eraserhead's got a thing for cute little ladies like you. I wouldn't want to be on the wrong end of his affection if I wanted to play safe," said Hitoshi.

"I-I can handle myself," you replied.

Even you didn't believe a word you said.

The first set started off like any other night. You looked past Eraserhead's table, trying not to make eye contact. You decided not to look at him, but that didn't stop Eraserhead from looking at 'you.' The whole time you performed to Hitoshi's piano accompaniment, you felt eyes burning a hole into your gut. It was like staring down the barrel of a shotgun. The worse part was you didn't know when it would go off. You stumbled once or twice through the setlist. Thankfully, hardly anyone noticed thanks to the sax and piano. You scanned over the crowds and quickly passed over that table set in the middle of the club. Harder than you thought because all you wanted to do that evening was to lock eyes with that dangerous man.

By the end of your second set, you were thirsty and not necessarily for water. You managed to escape walking past Eraserhead's table and made your way to the bar. You ordered two shot glasses for yourself. The bartender, Shoto, didn't offer any remarks but got you your drinks. You downed them before the ice began to melt. The alcohol didn't do anything to alieve the weight tied to your neck. Each second you were on stage, it was harder for you to focus on 'not' looking at him. Your gaze kept getting too close to looking at him. It didn't matter if it was rude. You weren't about to get yourself mixed up with mobsters, even handsome ones.

"May I buy your next round?"

You almost did a spit take on Shoto's pristine bar counter. Slowly, you turned to find Eraserhead. He was without his great big black coat and looking far more casual than before. You swallowed past the hard lump that formed in your throat.

"I-I gotta get back to work. I'm only allowed two drinks a night while I'm working."

Eraserhead's dark brow shot upwards. Curious, he asked, "Toshinori lets you drink on the job?"

You shrugged. "Two drinks isn't enough to get me tipsy, and a spot of liquid courage now and then helps."

You almost looked at his face. Quickly, you cast your eyes down. Eraserhead takes one step towards you. His form looms over you like a shadow, and his hand reaches out. You didn't know what you were expecting, but you certainly didn't expect him to cup your chin between his finger and thumb. Eraserhead tilted your chin up. You felt his free hand lean against the back of your stool, inches from you. You could feel him looking down at you. After the pressure in your belly grew to be too much, your eyelids fluttered open.

Your face turned red as a tomato looking up at him. Up close and personal, Shouta "Eraserhead" Aizawa was much more impressive from this angle. He was a bit scruffy, but the stubble on his face made him appear more….manly? No, that wasn't quite right. Even if he shaved, you would have never mistaken him as not being so. Every movement he made screamed of power and control. Eraserhead moved like a wildcat in the jungle. You wouldn't know the predator was watching you until it was too late. No, no, his scruffy-looking face added something a bit more. He couldn't be lazy, not with the way he dressed. Without his black coat, Eraserhead's body looked bigger. You gawked at how big his arms looked this close to him.

"If you're going to stare, at least stare at my face. Some might consider you rude," said Eraserhead.

You fixed your eyes on his face at the suggestion. It was a hypnotic pull that made you look at him the way he wanted you to. Who were you to tell him no? This was especially so when the sound of his low-timber voice made your legs quake and heat pool in your lower belly. Though tired-looking, Eraserhead's gaze never left yours. It was the same pair of eyes you felt staring at you all night. Performing made it easier to forget that he'd been watching you the moment you set foot. He's why your voice cracked once or twice while you were trying not to think about him. Your stomach quivered. Eraserhead had yet to take his hand or his eyes off you. His presence was starting to become unnerving.

"What are your plans for the evening?"

"Well, uh, I have to get back on stage eventually."

"The pianist sounds competent and talented enough to carry on without you," said Eraserhead.

Before you knew it, you were being led by Eraserhead through the front entrance. Toshinori saw and tried to protest until one of Eraserhead's lieutenants, Present Mic, handed him a fat stack of cash, which quickly shut him up. Eraserhead's coat almost swallowed you as he put it on your shoulders. His hand sat at your waist, and his thumb drew infinite circles on your hip. Midnight got into the car behind Eraserhead's while you, Present Mic, and the kingpin climbed into another. Both vehicles had personal drivers while you sat in the spacious back of the limo. You were seated next to Eraserhead, obviously, and Present Mic took the seat that faced you. You wished he'd instead have taken the passenger seat up front with the driver. Eraserhead didn't make it easy for you. Not with his hand still on your waist and rubbing circles into your hip. Present Mic rolled down the windows by a little just to let out some smoke from his fresh cigarette.

You'd be content with staring at your feet if it hadn't been for Eraserhead. His hand wandered down to your thigh. Heat rushed to your face. Your eyes first snapped up to look at Present Mic, who was looking out the window and blowing clouds of smoke into the air as they drove. Then, you cautioned a glance at your host. His nonchalant mask gave you goosebumps.

"E-Eraser…"

"Even if he was paying attention," Eraserhead whispered next to your ear, "It wouldn't matter. He's not interested in young ladies. I wouldn't show off like this in front of 'em if he wasn't."

He kissed your temple. Eraserhead's hand moved no higher than the meaty part of your thigh. You could have been grateful for that if you weren't so conflicted. You wanted him to shift his hand under your chiffon dress and tease off your garters. In contrast, another part wanted to jump out of the moving vehicle out of sheer embarrassment. His thumb continued to draw circles into your skin over the fabric.

You jolted in your seat when Eraserhead's teeth grazed the lobe of your ear.

"And…call me, Shouta," he demanded.

It would be hard for you to remember that considering his name sounded so much like your coworker's at the club. Eraserhead—Shouta gripped your hip and pulled you even closer to him. With his hand on you like that made escape impossible also if you wanted to. Lips caressed the side of your neck to send goosebumps over your skin.

"S-Shouta!" You whined.

You tried not to look at the man sitting across from you who suddenly found his fingernails to be so exciting. Present Mic didn't appear interested in you. But somebody was.

A finger trailed under your dress's skirt and up your inner thigh, edging dangerously close to your undergarments. Shouta toyed with the lace trim as if you two didn't have an audience. He continued to kiss and lick the side of your neck and relishing in the warmth spreading over your face. Shouta's caresses caused you to shudder under his touch. A bead of sweat ran down your face. Shouta lapped it up with his tongue before it reached your jaw.

"I'm going to have so much fun with you, Doll Face," Shouta murmured against your ear.

Shouta kissed your neck, shoulders, and even your hands. You rubbed your thighs together to ease the need for friction between them. Present Mic seemed the least bit interested in what his boss was doing to you. In fact, he played it so nonchalantly that he insisted on talking business around you. There was nothing in the conversation that would put you in danger, but you were intelligent enough to get the gist. During the ride, Shouta stopped kissed you all over and kept his hand on your hip. The trip lasted for another half hour, you guessed before the vehicle came to a full stop. Present Mic left the car, went around, and opened the other door. Shouta helped you out because your legs wouldn't have been able to carry you on their own.

You craned your neck as you approached the mansion set before your eyes. You knew that Shouta—Eraserhead—had a lot of money; you just didn't realize how much. You walked across a gravel path leading up to a columned portico. With his hand on your lower back, Shouta leads you inside. His coat was taken up by a butler along with your shawl and hat. You followed Shouta upstairs. You were shaking head to toe in anticipation. You passed several doors before you came to the biggest one, a set of green doors plated with gold-leaf. Shouta opened it and called for a bottle of champagne to his room. You set your purse aside on a chest of drawers and sat down on the settee. Shouta made himself comfortable by removing his jacket, vest, and bowtie. When the champagne arrived, Shouta answered the door himself and handed you a glass. You sipped as he sat next to you and resumed his previous kissing activity wherever he pleased.

You had trouble holding your glass and avoiding spilling any of the expensive alcohol. You and Shouta drank until the tips of both your noses were red. You set aside your empty glass to wrap your hands behind his neck. Your lips touched his with tenderness and licked him. Shouta gave you open access to his mouth and pressed his hand on the back of your head, bringing you closer. Your soft moans were swallowed up in the kiss. Hands trailed down each other's bodies, but Shouta managed to find the buttons on the back of your dress. He popped them open one at a time. You knew he finished when you felt the warmth of the fire grazing your spine. Shouta gave you a kiss that made your head spin. He nibbled on your bottom lip, took it into his mouth, and sucked softly. When he let you go, Shouta looked at you and pinned you with a heavy-loaded gaze.

"Undress for me."

You blinked, unsure you heard him correctly. Surely a man like the infamous gangster Eraserhead would have his women and strip them too. His hand raked up the back of your neck and grabbed a fistful of your carefully curled hair. Shouta kissed the base of your throat. Looking up, he said, "Don't make me repeat myself, my dear."

Slowly, you nodded. Shouta released you and leaned into the settee. You rose from your seat and made to stand in front of him. Shouta had down half the work for you. All you had to do was pulled the straps down and let gravity do most of the work. A simple task such as that did nothing to keep your hands from shaking. Your hands trembled as you reached for the straps. One at a time, you slipped them off your shoulders. Shouta's eyes never left you and traveled downward as you dragged the dress off your body inch by inch. You shimmied it out of the way and stepped out of pooling on the floor.

Your silk combinations must have caught his attention as Shouta couldn't take his eyes off your undergarments. You wore a cheap waist-cincher with a built-in garter belt to hold up your stockings. You didn't move while he drank you in. After a while, Shouta nodded and gave you a sign with his hand to remove the rest. You weren't alone in this. Shouta removed his shoes, socks, shirt, spenders, etc. until he wore only his slacks. Your fingers trembled too much to unhook the cincher with much success. Shouta did the work for you, peeling the cincher away and tossing it behind the setee. His hands were on you; the second the garment fell apart from you. Shouta's fingers groped you through the thin silk, slid his hands down your legs, and rolled them off. You kicked your kitten heels off and climbed into his lap.

Shouta lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and carried you to bed. The silk combination was shifted off your body before Shouta settled you on the enormous bed. You climbed on top of the sheets, rested your head on the mountain of pillows, and pressed your legs together while you waited. You didn't have to do that for very long as Shouta followed immediately behind you. This time he was equally naked as you were. Shouta forced your legs apart and crept between them. He kissed and licked your inner thighs and left bruises to remind you of him the next time you went to take a bath.

He climbed unto his knees. By the firelight, you saw him. His body was littered with scars from bullets and knives. Some of them looked almost fatal. You reached up to touch him. You ran your hands down the length of his body before stopping at the stiff member jutting out. You wrapped your hand around him and give his cock a few experimental thrusts. The groan escaping him filled you with the confidence needed to rub him faster. You kept pumping him and watching his face contort to one of pleasure.

Then, all of a sudden, he pulled your hand away.

Shouta pinned your hand to the bed while he used his other to lift one leg and hook it around his waist. He didn't need to guide himself in. In one fell swoop, Shouta's cock was planted deep inside and nestled within your soaking walls. His hand left yours on the bed to grab your hips and pull you flush against him. His hips snapped into yours slowly and harshly. Shouta kept his tempo slow but hard to tease you. It didn't take long for him to become impatient. You squeezing his cock pushed him over the edge.

Your bodies pressed close together as Shouta moved within you. You slid along his body, breasts flush against his solid chest. Shouta bent and suckled on each nipple of yours until they were taut peaks. He playfully clapped his hands over them, slapping the skin, which was becoming slick with sweat. His teeth found your throat to leave behind purpling bruises as if to say who you belonged to. You didn't know what to do with your hands or where to put them. You longed to reach up and tug on Shouta's hair but was too afraid to take offense and stop. Instead, you voted to wrap your hands in the bedsheets and hold onto dear life. Tugging on the sheets beneath you grounded your being in reality while Shouta pounded you into the mattress.

"So tight for me, Y/N. A man could get used to this," Shouta growled and started thrusting faster and harder into you.

Sweat and other fluids mixed between your legs. You clamped around him and held on. Without pulling out, Shouta turned you on your stomach and resumed thrusting. His rough hands that killed a lot of people were yet still tender when touching you. To be sure, he wouldn't leave you without a few souvenirs to remember him by, but Shouta wasn't about hurting women. He grunted in your ear as he pressed his chest against your back. He pulled you tight against to leave no room between your bodies. You cried out in the pillows and scratched at the silken sheets.

The room, which had been warm since Shouta lit the fireplace, became unbearably hot. The air grew to be too stifling for you. Sweat poured out of your body and made you slick. Well lubricated, it made Shouta's job easier. He pushed and pulled, his hips never slowing its tattoo* against yours. The wet slap of skin against skin filled the room along with you moaning. Your sounds drowned him out, but you could still feel him rumble with every grunt against your ear. If not for all the furnishings, you would mistake yourself to be cave-people as Shouta unleashed a primeval urge to thoroughly fuck you. He was an animal between your legs; he claimed your hips with every powerful thrust.

A tight, hot coil settled in your stomach and began to tighten. With every push of Shouta inside of you, the rigid veins of his cock rubbing every secret part, you began to wail. Your walls tightened around him. When the time came, you gushed around him. Shouta was a minute behind. He pulled out beforehand. You would remember the way he groaned for the rest of your days. Shouta was an animal who just claimed his mate and was now planting the indelible mark on their body. You felt a spray of something warm and syrupy coating your skin. It took you a moment to realize that Shouta finished on your back.

Despite the mess you just made of you, Shouta leaned down, kissed the back of your neck then your cheek. He wiped the sweat from your brow. You bashfully smiled back.

"I-I haven't done that that in a while, you know. Sorry if I wasn't as experienced as you're used to," you mumbled.

One of Shouta's dark brows rose. "Why would I care about that? Did you not enjoy yourself?"

"Well, yes, but I—"

Shouta kissed you, silencing any protests you might have had. His cock slipped inside of you. You gasped at how quickly he was hard again.

"Let's make one thing clear, Doll Face. You don't get to decide if I liked it. That's what you were about to say? Some bullshit like that, right?"

His hand came down on your ass cheek. You yelped in both surprise and pain. Shouta massaged the red handprint as he slowly began to start a new rhythm

"I get to decide whether you're good and whether I want you," he grunted between thrusts, which were starting to pick up again, "And I say, I want you. Your experience with other men means shit to me. You're with me now, and my girl gets the best, understand?"

You nodded before letting the flow of his lust take over you. Shouta flipped you back over, so you looked at each other. You reached behind his neck to hold on as his pace picked up to a punishing speed.

"Don't…ever…think less of…yourself. You're fucking mine from now on, got it?" He growled.

And that was how you ended up a gangster's girlfriend.

                                                         ---080---

[notyourdayrdream]

Tan Hands and Tan Lines

Day Three, Side A: Ubiquitous

(read it here on AO3)

Nobody wants to spend their summer vacation working. But spending it with your two best friends wasn’t too bad. So when Mercedes told Rachel and Kurt that there were two openings at the retro fifties diner in downtown Lima, they jumped on the opportunity.

Diner in the Sky started out as a relatively slow job. It had just opened a few months ago and the word hadn’t gotten out to much of the city that it even existed. In those early days, Kurt and his friends spent the afternoons and nights singing through the empty store, twirling on black and white checkered floors. Finn and some of the other New Directions would stop by before the sunset and order milkshakes with fries. He and Rachel would not-so-mysteriously disappear for five or so minutes, and Kurt noticed the way Mercedes and Sam giggled around each other. He eventually cornered her during a graveyard shift, and she admitted that they had been dating in secret since prom. It took two days for Mercedes to win Kurt back, after buying him the new Marc Jacobs piece he had been dreaming about.

It was a cute job with even cuter outfits. Until July fourth came around.

The mayor of Lima stopped by that night and made a big show of it all, forever putting the little diner on the map. The appearance knocked out every ubiquitous fast food joint in town. It’s been packed every night since.

“I need a number five without onions!” Kurt hears Rachel scream into the kitchen, followed by the clanging of a few plates. She storms out a minute later, hair sticking to the sweat on her face.

“I hate this job,” she grumbles to him as she makes her way to another table of hungry customers.

Kurt leans his body weight against the counter. The metal is cool against his skin, a nice distraction from the oppressive summer heat. The bar isn’t nearly as packed tonight as the rest of the restaurant, mostly just little kids ordering heart attack inducing malts and ice cream cones. He’s adjusting the stupid rectangle shaped hat on his hat when he hears the door jingle at nine o’clock on the dot.

Blaine Anderson strolls into the diner with his little private smile, pulling his usual denim jacket off as he goes. He’s humming again, a pop song Kurt notices. Probably Katy Perry. He overheard Blaine tell Rachel she was his most listened to artist last week. Not that he was listening to hear if his name came up in conversation or anything like that. That would be crazy.

They meet eyes for a brief second, hazel to blue. Blaine grins before sliding onto one of the red leather barstools. “Hell again?” His cheeks are flushed pink, but Kurt blames it on the heat.

“Yeah,” Kurt replies, sounding breathier than usual. Blaine has a way of doing that to him. With his funny quirks and ability to make restaurant issued bowties sexy, the Dalton Academy junior has snuck his way into Kurt’s heart from the second he started working with him.

There’s a particularly loud crash in the corner of the building, followed by a baby screaming. Blaine takes a moment to sober himself, eyelashes fanning out on the apple of his cheeks. “I better get to work. I mean, I should get to work.” He’s flailing, adorably so. “I mean, I should check that out.” Blaine stumbles. The back of his neck is red as he walks away.

“Remind me again why you won’t ask him out?” Mercedes says with a poke to Kurt’s shoulder. Her hair is still intact, textured curls bouncing at her shoulders. The only way you’d know she had been working was the ketchup colored stains on her baby blue dress and apron. “He’s obviously into you.”

Kurt’s thought about it so many times, and the answer is that he doesn’t know. Competing schools wasn’t an excuse, it was summer. Besides, the Warblers had been so gracious in their loss at Regionals that they invited the New Directions over for coffee at the Lima Bean.

Truth is, he was scared. He’s never had a boyfriend, let alone asked a boy out or even told one they were handsome. This is still Ohio, and being out and proud has its consequences. He knows Blaine is gay at least, so his crushing isn’t creepy.

It sort of terrifies him to care about someone so deeply. When Blaine came in with red rimmed eyes after his fifteen minute break one night in the middle of June, Kurt sat with him as he ranted about how awful his dad was. He’s the only friend Kurt has that likes to watch old black and white movies for fun. Blaine makes him laugh so hard he cries, and everytime he brushes past Kurt during the busy nights, the spot tingles for until he gets home.

Kurt sighs. “I don’t know.” He rests his head against the edge of the soda machine. “Crushes are so damned difficult.” Mercedes hums in sympathy.

“It’ll work out, boo. Even if Rachel and I have to force the two of you to close together like last time.” He can feel her laugh beside him, and soon he’s laughing too. That was a good night.

“Kurt! ‘Cedes!” Rachel all but screams, turning a few heads. After knowing the girl for two years, he’s convinced she only has two settings: Loud and Louder.

Her face is bright pink and there’s a deep crease between her brows. She’s got her Business Face on. “What’re you two doing? This large party just came in, and you guys are just sitting here! A little help would be appreciated!” She huffs, pumps tapping against the floor as she walks to the back at a dizzying speed.

Kurt and Mercedes share an eye roll before going opposite ways. The party Rachel was talking about is huge, five adults and three kids under ten years old. After finding a table large enough so they’d all be comfortable, he pulls out a notepad and asks what drinks he can get them started with.

An older woman starts speaking in rapid fire Italian, gesturing to the rest of the group, who nod in return. Kurt instantly regrets taking up French instead of literally any other language.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, hoping they could understand. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

A younger man with a beard cocks his head and speaks in an incredibly thick accent. How a family of Italians decided to spend a summer in boring Ohio confuses him. “Could we get another waiter?” He stutters through the sentence, and Kurt feels bad to inconvenience them.

There’s a familiar tingle on his left shoulder. “I can help them,” Blaine whispers, side-stepping him to get closer to the table. He says something to the family, who grin back at him. He has that effect on people.

“You speak Italian?” Kurt hisses. This guy is just full of surprises.

Blaine puts his head down and smiles. He shrugs like everyone in America is fluent in the romantic language. “I spent a few summers in southern Italy with my grandmother when I was younger.” Because of course he did.

“Oh,” Kurt offers lamely. “Okay, well tell them I’m really sorry for any inconvenience.”

Blaine smirks at him and turns to the table. He says something to them, laughing afterwards. Kurt watches behind him, amazed at the way Blaine can make anyone feel so important. Not to mention Italian is such a hot language to hear coming out of his mouth.

A kid who can’t be above twelve pipes up, pointing back to Kurt. The rest of the family looks back at him too.

Kurt pulls at the edge of his crisp button down. They’re looking back and forth between him and Blaine, unnerving him beyond belief. He feels called out and exposed even though he has no idea what’s being said about him. So he just returns a wavering smile and turns to leave and prepares to never show his face again when he hears it.

Amore.

That stops him in his tracks. Love? Kurt’s no language expert, but the word is pretty universal in every one of them. He turns around to ask Blaine for a translation, but to his surprise he’s gone uncharacteristically silent.

Blaine eventually stammers through a reply, hands stuck stiffly at his sides. Kurt hears him murmur, “I’ll be back with your drinks,” before walking into the kitchen as fast as he can. He won’t make eye contact with Kurt the rest of the night.

Diner in the Sky closes at eleven every night, and it takes another thirty minutes on a good day to scrub stains from the tabletops and lock everything up. It’s Kurt’s night to close up. Usually either Rachel or Mercedes is on schedule to help him, but since his luck is just absolute shit, he has to clean up the place with Blaine.

Closing up is usually an intimate job. Just two people, the nostalgia of an old diner, and a jukebox. Depending on who you’re with, it’s either heaven or hell. Kurt’s not sure which one he’ll get tonight. The other two times he’s had to suffer through it with Blaine, it’s been fun. They dirtied dishes making vanilla shakes and doo-wopping along to the jukebox tunes.

Tonight feels like purgatory. Blaine avoids him at any cost. If Kurt goes to mop the kitchen floors, he goes to the front room, and vice versa. He won’t speak to him, or even acknowledge him when he accidentally sweeps Kurt’s feet. It’s fine at first, Kurt can handle the awkwardness. But eventually, it simmers to anger.

“Can I talk to you?” He calls after Blaine. He stops like a kid caught in the cookie jar, hand freezing on the light switch. He turns slowly, eyes as big as saucers.

“Yeah?”

Kurt glares at him for a moment before speaking. “Look, I don’t know what that family said to you, but it gives you no right to be so absolutely rude—”

“They said I looked like I loved you.” It comes out as if it pains him to say.

That sentence makes any anger Kurt has, flow out of him and into a pond on the floor. Love?

He scraps up any dignity he has left and smiles to himself. “Well, do you?”

“Do I what?” Blaine snaps, coming to sit on the stool next to him. His leg trembles on the floor. Kurt can recognize now the little tells he didn’t know he ever noticed; how Blaine presses his thumb and ring finger together when he’s especially nervous, the way his eyes seem to light up when he looks at him.

“Love me?” Kurt continues, heart threatening to beat out of his chest. He wants to hear him say it.

Blaine doesn’t answer, instead opting to bury his head into his hands. Kurt hears him mumble to himself. Something about not the right time and tan messed everything up. His stomach flip flops.

“So,” Kurt drags, tapping the edge of the metal counter. “Love, huh?”

“Shut up,” Blaine mutters. They sit in comfortable silence for a little, until the hum of Ella Fitzgerald fizzles off the record. Then, Kurt feels a warm, almost clammy hand on top of his. It’s enough of an answer for him.

[crowtrinkets]

Your Weary Widow Marches

A Gender Neutral MCxFelix fic in which our dear barista educates their teacher and shows him some music from their home.

I’ve never really written fanfiction before but I thought Id give it a shot. The formatting looks weird on my end so if it looks weird after posting I apologize I couldn’t figure it out. Hope you enjoy!

—-

The crackling fire and pages being turned were the only sounds heard for the past few hours. Felix and I sat on either side of a couch placed in Anisa’s office silently reading our respective books. I’ve been in Astraea for nearly a week and had I known that Felix’s teaching method would be done via reading books the size of an encyclopedia I probably would have chosen Sage or Anisa instead... probably

I glance up at Felix, he’s sitting with legs crossed slouching on the arm rest of the couch, glasses on and enthralled in his book. I'm leaning with my back against the arm rest facing Felix, peering at him from behind my knees. I watch as his eyes scan the pages, partially hiding behind my book so he doesn’t notice me stare. I rub my eyes, dry from the endless reading of Astraean history. I know plenty of history and lore from this world thanks to countless hours of playing Last Legacy and stalking forums, but I don’t think I could’ve convinced Felix of that without having to explain what video games are let alone the internet. He thought if I were to learn magic I should at least know part of its history and it’s contribution to their society. 

Despite spending some time with Felix I'm still amazed at the attention span he has for reading. I scan the room trying not to move too much lest I be scolded by the warden. I glance over at the high back chair across the room. The one Anisa sat me in after my jaunt through Felix’s portal and painfully onto Anisa's desk. My mind begins to wander. 

I’ve only been here a short time but I feel like I’ve adjusted well. I wonder what's happening on Earth. Does time pass the same at home like how it does in this realm? World? Alternate universe? I still don’t exactly know how to explain my predicament. Has anyone noticed I'm gone yet? I wonder if I’m on the missing persons list, someone at work will have noticed I didn’t show up for my shifts. I cringe slightly at that last thought, my open book now resting on my chest. Ah damn it, I’m definitely fired aren’t I. How am I gonna pay my bills.... and my home, I miss my bed....my plants. SHIT MY PLANTS. I bring my hand to my face and cringe, my beloved house plants they’re going to wither away in my absence. Fate is such a cruel mistress.

“Bored of reading are we?” I slightly jump at Felix’s comment. I bring my hand down and look at him. Staring at me through his glasses a smirk on his lips. I flush slightly and close my book.

“No I just, got to thinking about Earth, and my life, I guess I’m just a little home sick,” I mumble out those last words. I want to be honest with Felix but I don’t want him beating himself up for my situation. I mean yes he is the reason I’m stuck here but I don't hate him for it. Felix frowns and closes his own book.

“Ah... I am sorry about that, I-“ I sit up interrupting him.

“No no no, I'm not mad at you, I’m actually quite enjoying my time here. I mean I don’t have to make drinks for annoying customers everyday here,” I force a laugh but it comes out awkwardly. Felix gives me a quizzical look. I then realize, with the amount of times he calls “dear barista” I just assumed he knew what it meant. “Yknow, my job? A barista?” Felix flushes and avoids looking at me.

“I must admit.. I do not actually know what that is,” I cant help but chuckle, the great necromancer Felix, is embarrassed to not know something.

“Well my dear teacher," I emphasize the word teacher mimicking the way he calls me, "allow me to educate you on some Earth information,” I sit cross legged and scoot closer to him book in my lap. Felix adjusts to face me properly and removes his glasses. I clear my throat and smile at him. “My part time occupation of being a Barista, requires me to make drinks for customers and sell them, more often I make coffee but sometimes people order tea. We sell pastries as well,” Felix gives me yet another confused look.

“All you do is prepare drinks and flakey confectioneries?” I nod in response with a smile, I can only imagine what he assumed a Barista was. Felix chuckles and runs a hand through his hair, “All this time I thought it was something more complicated, you described your customers as being annoying? I am assuming you do not like this particular job?”

“Well, I don't hate it but the customers can get a little rude and for the dumbest reasons too. One time a woman threw her drink at me claiming I added 3 1/2 shots of espresso and rather than 3,” I laugh to my self looking back at the memory, chuckling more when I see Felix’s horrified expression.

“A woman... threw a drink at you? Because she deemed it made incorrectly? I did not except Earth customs to be so. . . Barbaric,” Felix looks at me astonished and confused but all I can do is laugh. “And why are you laughing? Are you alright did she hit your head when she assaulted you with a beverage?” Felix is now standing while I clutch my stomach in pain, the combination of the story and Felix’s confusion is too much to bare. After a minute I manage to calm down enough to speak.

“No no, she did not hit me in the head, I’m just laughing cause it was funny, well at the time it wasn’t but my co workers took pictures and I looked ridiculous. I can laugh about it now,” I wipe a stray tear from my eye as I recount the experience. Thank god her drink was iced. 

“Picture?” Felix chimes in. I try to think of how to explain how photography works but I come up with an idea.

“Why don’t I show you?” I stand handing Felix my book and I jaunt over to Anisa’s desk. I let her peruse my backpack because she seemed so interested in my “Earthly items” as she called them. I walked back over and sit on the floor, patting the ground next to me so Felix can join. 

“You known there is a perfectly good sofa right next to you, I don’t understand why you wish to sit on the ground like we are mere children,” but despite his protests Felix sits next to me still clutching our books. I rummage through my back tossing the other items to the side. My wallet, a flyer, a jacket, that granola bar which has definitely crumbled to pieces in its package. Until I finally find it, my phone. My first night here I instinctively tried to use it, forgetting I am now stuck in a world without wifi or cell towers. In an effort to hopefully conserve its battery I hard shut off my phone I did not think I would need it but now is an opportunity for me to educate Felix about my world rather than his and tell him a little about myself. Really I just want a reason to prolong my time from reading anymore history. I hold the power button and silently pray. Please have some battery left, please please. Felix is leaning towards me, his face inching closer to mine, I glance at him studying his expression. He looks confused, and curious at the same time, there's a slight scrunch in his brow like he’s trying to seem like he understands what I’m doing, but I know he doesn’t. In that moment his eyes meet mine, I turn my head to fully face him, a blush creeps up his face and I can feel mine begin to warm as well. “Felix-“

BING

We both jump at the sound of my phone turning on. Damn phone, well I guess I kinda asked for that. Felix sits back and clears his throat.

“Um, what, what is that?” His voice wavers slightly but I choose to ignore it to save him some dignity.

“Its my phone, on Earth nearly everyone has one of these. You can use it to communicate with other people, take pictures, look things up, and listen to music.” I begin to unlock it and open my photo album.

“You can communicate with other people? On this... this flat brick?” Felix points accusatory at my phone the scrunch in his eyebrows have intensified creating deep crevices on his forehead. I nod while I scroll through trying to find the photo. 

“Yup and take pictures, such as this one,” I turn my phone to face Felix revealing the image documenting the after affects of being assaulted with coffee. He leans over to get a better look. In the picture I'm standing by the cash register, soaked through my clothes in an extra large coffee's amount of liquid. The brown liquid stains my apron and the parts on my white shirt poking out from underneath. There's smeared whipped cream going across my shoulder up my neck and partially along my jaw, and the scowl on my face could kill a man. The instant I show the picture to Felix he plants a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. He turns away in an attempt to hide his amusement but I know he wont last.

“Im-I must apologize I did not mean to laugh but, but the look on your face is hilarious,” Felix faces me again trying to hide his smile with the back of his hand. I start to chuckle, I turn the phone back to me and swipe to the next picture. Its a similar picture but in this one my co worker put whipped cream on top of my head, something about it “completing the look”. When I show this picture to Felix it breaks his terrible attempt of remaining poise. He laughs loudly, and it’s extremely contagious. I laugh along with him reminiscing in his beautiful laugh. Every once in a while we calm down until we look at the picture and we start up again. After a bit I’m able to calm down enough to speak.

“Don’t feel bad for laughing, at the time I was pissed but my co workers cheered me up and now I have these memories to laugh at,” I start to look through my album again as Felix calms down from his laughing high. I find more pictures to show him. Some are of me at work with my co workers, one picture of me laughing as I held a dog that jumped through the drive through window. I show him more pictures, some are of earth sunsets which Felix claimed to look like they belong in a painting. I also show him a picture of some Geese I saw while on a walk, and then a picture of said Geese chasing me. This gets Felix to laugh again but not as hard.

“You lead an interesting life on Earth, it seems similar to Sage you are also prone to provoke others into attacking you,” I roll my eyes at Felix’s joke and give him a friendly shoulder bump. Its at this moment I realize how close he’s sitting. Our books set aside and Felix is leaning on one arm politely looking over my shoulder at my phone, I can tell he doesn’t really understand how it works but it seems he’s enjoying this moment to much to ask. In an attempt to keep the sweet moment I change the subject.

“Hey do you want to listen to some Earth music?” With a nod from Felix I close the app and instinctively go to press my streaming app. Damn no Internet. I think for a second and remember I have some music I bought in times before streaming apps existed. I find the app and open it. Dear god my taste was cringey. I scroll through the songs until I stumble across a less than embarrassing song. “This is a classic where I come from, everyone has heard this song at least once. I lay back onto the floor so I can properly listen to the music. Felix looks at me and awkwardly lays down as well, I click on the song allowing it to play.

Just a small town girl

Livin' in a lonely world

She took the midnight train goin' anywhere

Just a city boy

Born and raised in South Detroit

He took the midnight train goin' anywhere

Felix gives me a puzzled look but I just shrug and look up at the ceiling. I close my eyes and take in the song as it plays. If I concentrate hard enough I can imagine my self back on Earth. Sitting in my room listening to 80s music while I do laundry or cook my dinner. I start to feel nostalgic again but I try not let my emotions take over. The song ends and I pause it before it plays the next song. I roll onto my side and rest my head on my hand.

“So what’d you think?” I beam at Felix, I genuinely want to know what he thinks of Earth music, and more specifically a song that I am quite fond of. Felix is laying flat on his back, he ankles crossed and his hands laying on his chest. He looks nervous to be laying on the ground next to me but has made no attempts to leave.

“I thought it was... interesting to say the least. It had quite a captivating story although I was confused when the subject changed multiple times, and what exactly are they trying to “not stop believing” in” Felix does air quotes and seems genuinely enthralled in the “story” of the song. I smile and start to look for another song. 

“How about you choose the next one?” I tilt my phone towards him. Felix sits up at my question.

“I dont feel very well versed in Earth music though,” He mumbles. I shrug at his comment.

“Just pick one with a name that sounds interesting to you” I show Felix how to use the phone and hand it to him laying back down. I peek at Felix, he’s holding the phone in one hand and is scrolling with the other, he’s holding it like an old man. I watch his face, he’s thoroughly looking at every single song title and determining whether they are interesting or not. I find it... cute, his concentration face is cute. Oh if he caught me staring I know he would become a blubbering blushing mess, I mean I would be too. I close my eyes again as I wait for him to pick. 

“This one seems interesting,” I hum in response, but when Felix says the title out-loud and panic seizes through me. I sit up and shout WAIT but I'm too late. He already pressed it. And then I hear it.

That dreaded, infamous G note. Felix turns towards me surprised and hastily hands the phone to me, I pause it before another note can play.

“Hells MC what will that song make my head explode or something??? You nearly made my heart stop.” Felix takes a deep breath with his hand on his chest.

“I'm sorry, that song its kind of embarrassing actually,” I can feel myself flushing, I look away in embarrassment at the fact that I had that song downloaded and the fact that I nearly sent my teacher into cardiac arrest.

“Embarrassing how?” Felix looks at me puzzled. I open my mouth to speak but then stop. Hold on a second, Felix doesn’t know this band, let alone what an emo phase is. Well judging by his raven skull necklace he does but not in the way I do. I guess it wouldn’t be so bad if we listened to it. I do still like their music. But god did it HAVE to be this song. I clear my throat and look back at Felix.

“Nothing, it’s nothing I was just being dramatic,” I stifle a laugh. “We can listen to it, I actually quite like this band,” Felix nods and turns to face my direction, were now both sitting cross legged and I press play on the song. I smile a little as the song plays and close my eyes again. I cant even remember the last time I listened to this song. My mind begins to wander again, to my younger years when I first heard this song.

 I was such a try hard back then, wanting so badly to “be different” but also to mend the emotional pain I was going through, and this band really helped me through it. This song is a little more narrative than the last one so I hope Felix would like it. I can’t believe I freaked out like I did god he must think I'm crazy, or maybe that lady really did hit my head when she threw that drink at me. As the song plays I silently hum to it, quiet enough so that Felix might not hear. I drink in the lyrics and instruments and it feels like I'm listening to it again for the first time. 

The song ends and I open my eyes again to pause the music before it plays another one.

“So what did you think of tha-“ before I can continue I'm stopped by the sight of Felix’s face. His eyes are misty and his nose is colored pink. Was he... was he crying? Felix looks at me and his eyes go wide. He quickly turns away and rubs at his face.

“There-there is quite a lot of dust on this floor, honestly you would think Annie would have any sense to clean in here every once in a while,” I cant help but smile, wow he really is a goth child. 

“It’s ok Felix, this song makes me cry sometimes too,” Felix side eyes me and sniffles.

“I-I was not crying, yes I admit the song was... moving to say the least…. But, but I will not be mocked by you for my emotions,” Felix turns to face me again refusing to meet my eyes, his voice turning accusatory. I scoot closer to Felix and place a hand on his shoulder. He looks at me astonished and slightly flushed, either from the contact or the crying, I mean dust, I will never know.

“Congratulations” I say with a smile. Felix’s puzzled look twists even more.

“What ever are you talking about,” Felix questions.

“You’re emo now,”

[cyberiade]

20-7=14

Tropetember day two!

Coffee shop au + College au = Barista! Tony x Student! Steve Warnings: mentions of Tony being drunk in the past at the beginning, except that none Word count: 1.211 Summary: Anthony Edward Stark, son of The Howard Stark, the genius that graduated MIT being seventeen, worked as a barista at a small coffee shop under the name of Tony Stank. A/n: Steve is a student, but he's in his twenties. He's not a minor there. Ao3 link!

It started out as a punishment - for something along the lines of how lighthearted Tony treated the whole "fortune" thing. He didn't really remember, he was too drunk to function anyway.

At first, he was furious - not only would he miss out the best parties, but he'd have to work like a normal citizen! And he had to share a flat with not one, but two roommates!

After some time, Tony realized he quite enjoyed the peace of a normal life, without paparazzi chasing him, reporters getting in his face, his father pressuring him for another new invention. He enjoyed sharing space with Rhodes and Banner, even if it was just existing in the same room. And, for the most part, he liked his job.

While sometimes the customers were overwhelming, rude or even aggressive, being a barista provided him a steady routine. It was calming and simple. His whole life felt calm and simple when he was there, if he was being honest.

Tony smiled to himself, lost in his thoughts. Suddenly, a sweet, small voice called him.

"Um, excuse me? Can I get an Iced Americano with three expresso shots, two pumps of vanilla syrup, heavy cream and two teaspoons of sugar?"

"Of course, that'll be—" Tony paused to look at the screen "— five dollars." He looked up, looking up at the muscular blonde standing in front of him. His eyes had big, dark bags under them and he had a few cuts around his cheeks and chin - probably from shaving.

After he received the money and handed the receipt, he told the young handsome man to take a seat and wait for his order.

Soon enough, the drink was served. The café was almost empty, with only a few people sitting in the corner, chatting quietly.

Tony used the lack of work to shamelessly check out the man, noticing how his thighs looked even thicker when he sat, how he pouted slightly, clearly struggling with some problem in that textbook of his.

He had to stop oggling observing the man when another customer walked in, but his eyes returned to the man as soon as his deed was done.

The student now looked like he was about to burst in tears any second, which was worrying considering that only a few minutes had passed since Tony last saw him.

"Go, help him," his coworker and roommate, Bruce, nudged, "I can stand alone when there's little to nobody here, and maybe you'll even get his number if you'll help him?" he winked.

And Tony, like the absolute fool he is, listened to him.

"Hey there, big guy, is that seat taken?" Tony pointed at the chair next to the student. The man shook his head as to say 'no'. The Stark sat down on said chair and put the cup of coffee he brought on the table.

"What's gotten you so worked up, hm?" Stark asked, before looking at the textbook. "Physics? It can be rough sometimes, I totally get you." Tony was gifted in the area of science, but that didn't mean he didn't need to study, and he always found physics to be the most difficult - there was just something about this subject that made it hard to remember, even if it was supposed just to be 'how the universe worked'.

"It's just that I used the right formulas, I'm sure of it, and I did everything as I should, but, the result is wrong no matter how I approach the problem." his teary, blue eyes met Tony's, which had him melting inside, despite the situation. "And if i won't get it right my teacher's gonna fail me for sure, and, and-" a few tears spilled down his cheeks and Tony had to fight the urge to brush them with his thumb.

"Maybe you just need another pair of eyes to look at it? Let me see if I can find any errors?"

The man (Tony really needed to ask him for his name) wordlessly gave him his notebook, wiping the tears with his sleeve. Tony checked the problem first, then tried to half-solve it in his head. Then, he checked all the calculations. At first, nothing seemed to be wrong, but soon Tony noticed where the mistake was.

"I think I know what went wrong here," he barely could stop himself from laughing, "can you —pfffttt— can you please tell me whahahat, what is 20-7?"

"Um, thirteen" the student looked baffled. Why would the barista ask such question, if he was good at math?

"Then whahahahy did you write fourteen?" Tony could barely restrain himself, especially seeing blonde's expression. He made mistakes like that quite often, too, but always noticed after staring at said calculations for a bit.

The buff man snorted. This broke the last of Tony's efforts to not laugh and soon the pair was shaking with laughter.

"How could I not notice?" he half-whined, but there was a hint of giggle in his tone, and he seemed more at ease, relaxed even.

"It's an early-made error, so maybe your brain just got used to seeing it that way didn't consider it a mistake? I do that all the time!"

"Thanks, man." he smiled sheepishly. They sat in silence for a while before he continued. "Say, um," he paused to look at his badge, "Tony, what would you say if we hung out? No homework, just coffee and some talking? No pressure though, of course, I know it's a bit soon but-" his rambling was cut off by Tony.

"No, no, I'd love to! Honestly I wanted to ask you out too," he pointed at the cup he brought, which had his number scribbled on the side, along with a short note saying 'text me' and a winky face.

"Oh, um, that's great, thanks!" Steve looked like he didn't expect Tony to answer the way he did. "What time do you end your shift on Saturday?" Do you even work on Saturday in the first place?"

"I do, I end at five," Tony answered with a smile. He found the student's awkwardness adorable.

"P.m?"

"No, a.m.," he replied sarcastically, then added an 'of course five p.m.', just to be sure they were on the same page.

"Okay, so what about we choose what we're gonna do, and then set the time? Of course it'll be after five," Steve asked, and the barista nodded in response.

They would chat for a bit longer if Bruce didn't call Tony's name and pointed at the clock. When the Stark realised what his colleague meant, he looked at his watch only to see that it was the time they closed the shop.

"Oh, um, this is the time when we close the, you know, uh, the the-" Tony's attempt to form a sentence was interrupted by the man.

"The shop?"

"Yes, the shop. I forgot the word," the genius smiled nervously.

"Well, um, I'll see you, then, Tony"

"Yes, see you soon, uhh," Tony realised he didn't remember his soon-to-be-date's name.

"Oh! Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Steve," and after a short pause he added "Steve Rogers." He waved his hand and he was gone before Tony could even think to say 'goodbye'.

The genius returned to the counter, unaware of the smile still playing on his lips. Bruce couldn't help but grin, seeing his roommate and coworker (and maybe — he hoped — a friend) happy like that was rare, but made him happy.

While closing the store, Tony couldn't help but close his eyes and sigh happily.

'Steve...'

[bastardtetsu]

{day 09} vanilla ice cream | tsukki x reader

pairing: tsukishima kei x gn!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, secret pen pal, mutual pining a lil bit?

wc: 1.5k

warnings: sick reader (hangover/cold), mention of drinking, some swearing, tsukki showing human empathy

⍋⋆*❅｡. 25 days of fic-mas mlist .｡❅*⋆⍋

somehow it all reminds me of doctor jekyll and mister hyde for right before my eyes, a man that i despise has turned into a man i like

—vanilla ice cream; she loves me (music by jerry bock, lyrics by sheldon harnick)

the first thing you notice as you wake up is your pounding headache. it’s hard to be surprised at your state after the amount of alcohol you consumed last night - not without good reason, of course. as awful as you’re feeling now, it’s nothing compared to the hell that was last night.

it wasn’t supposed to go like that - it was supposed to be a magical, maybe even romantic evening. you had been looking forward to meeting your mystery friend ever since the two of you started messaging each other online, but you hadn’t expected to develop a full-blown crush on this person without even finding out what they look like.

but the more you got to know their personality, exchanging playlists and talking about your similar tastes in music, the more your messages to each other became fonder, even flirty at times. perhaps it was the level of anonymity that made you both so comfortable talking to each other, but you quickly became each other’s most trusted confidants.

when you started working at the record store, things became a little more stressful as you adjusted to your schedule becoming tighter, having to handle the occasional nasty customer, and dealing with one coworker in particular who must have being rude to you written into his DNA. talking with your anonymous friend is a much-needed escape, a distraction from the mundane, a hidden treasure that only you get to enjoy.

so as you sat waiting in the cafe last night, a rose laid out on the table as you had promised your dear friend, nothing could’ve killed your vibe faster than the aforementioned rude coworker - tsukishima kei - showing up and ruining everything.

you could tell he was only there because you’d insisted on leaving work early to make this date, and he wanted to see if you were lying. he only proved his intentions more when he had the audacity to sit down at your table and make jabs at you for meeting up with someone you met online.

“you’ve been waiting an awful long time haven’t you?” he taunted.

“tsukki, if you don’t leave this table—“

“and you’ve never even met them? this is how people get murdered, you know,” he sneered condescendingly. you almost got thrown out because of how loudly you screamed at him. thankfully you didn’t - although you did seem to strike some nerves with tsukishima, which you felt a bit bad about - but even though you waited at the cafe until closing, nobody showed up, leaving you alone with a single rose and a full bottle of wine.

needless to say, you have every reason to feel like shit this morning. not only are you hungover and heartbroken, having heard nothing but radio silence from your friend, you’re starting to feel lightheaded and stuffy-nosed too. you waste no time calling in sick, burying yourself in your blankets as you try your best to shut out the pounding in your head and the salty tears beginning to sting the backs of your eyelids.

suddenly, a knock at the door jolts you back to reality. “who is it?” you call out weakly.

another knock. you drag yourself out of bed with a quiet groan and go to answer the door, only to be met with a familiar lanky blond.

“what do you want, tsukishima,” you demand dryly, “did you have something you forgot to say last night? if you do say it fast, i don’t feel well today.”

“yeah i know, you called out of work,” he replies ambivalently, “that’s why i’m here.”

“oh, so you’re here to check up on me again, make sure i’m not slacking off?” you taunt him, your temper rising.

“that’s not—“

“you gonna go back to work and tell everyone i’m lying? that i just don’t care about my job?”

“no i’m n—“

“well joke’s on you, four-eyes, ‘cause guess what? i’m not giving you the chance.” you immediately start gathering your belongings, preparing to go to work.

“what?”

“i won’t be that late,” you mumble to yourself, throwing a coat over your arm as you hurriedly grab your keys, “fuck— where the hell is my other shoe??”

“oi,” tsukishima says firmly, “y/n. you need to lie down.”

“fuck off,” you bite back at him.

“no seriously, you look like you have a fever.”

“i don’t care,” you snarl, “help me look for my shoe, i know it’s here somewhere—HEY!!!”

there’s not much you can do but continue screaming at him as tsukishima scoops you up in his scrawny arms - which are evidently way stronger than they look - and carries you to your bed, dumping you unceremoniously on top of the blankets.

“THE FUCK WAS THAT?!?” you shout. he just shrugs.

“what was i supposed to do? you wouldn’t get back in bed.” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. arrogant prick. you slump down into your blankets, feeling too depleted to pick a fight anymore.

“i brought you something.”

your head shoots up as a plastic grocery bag lands next to it. opening it up, you find a tub of vanilla ice cream inside. “it’s the best thing to eat when you’re sick,” he states.

“a-ah,” you stutter hesitantly, “thanks.” is tsukishima being… nice to you?

“did that uh… friend of yours ever show up?” he asks cautiously.

“no,” you mutter bitterly, “i waited til closing. guess you were right, meeting some stranger from the internet really was a stupid idea.”

“hm,” he grunts awkwardly, looking away from you.

“i mean,” you continue, “the least they could’ve done was give me some sort of explanation. instead they just fucking ghosted—“

“they didn’t ghost,” tsukishima interjects suddenly, almost defensive. “i mean— it hasn’t even been a day, they’ll probably hit you up later.”

“and how do you know?”

“because—“ he stops short, hesitating for a moment before continuing, “i saw the guy last night. on the way out of the cafe.”

“wait—what??” you exclaim, “you saw them? how do you know??”

“they were supposed to be holding a rose, right? like the one you had?”

“yeah— wait, how do you know about that?”

“it wasn’t hard to figure out. people usually don’t sit at cafes with loose flowers on the table unless it’s something dumb like that.”

“shut up, you wouldn’t know romance if it bit you in the ass,” you snap back, “so he’s a guy? what did he look like? did you talk to him? what did he say?”

“yeah, uh— he asked if i knew you,” tsukishima recounts, “and he wanted me to tell you he’s sorry for bailing, but something else came up.”

“anything else??” the eager glow in your eyes is suffocating as you stare him down, hungry for more details.

“yeah. he— he was kinda ugly.”

“…seriously?” you respond, half unimpressed with his attempt at a joke and half nervous that he isn’t joking at all.

“what, does that matter?” tsukishima replies mockingly, “i thought you liked him for his personality.”

“i do,” you jab, “and you know what, i don’t care what he looks like. and i certainly don’t care about what your salty ass thinks of him. i’m gonna message him right now, actually”

“have fun,” he says dismissively, turning to make his way out before pausing to pull a record from the vinyl collection on your shelf. “you like this album?”

“yeah, duh. it’s been one of my favorites for years.”

“huh. me too,” he replies, “it’s crazy how it stays with me. sometimes i swear i can hear it in my head while i’m asleep.”

“that’s funny,” you say, “my friend does the same thing. he hears it in his sleep.”

“heh. that is funny,” he mutters quietly as he turns to leave.

“tsukki—“ you stop him before he exits, “thanks for today. you’re not as awful as i thought.” a tentative smile graces your lips.

“whatever,” he mutters, quickly turning his face away from yours, “see you at work tomorrow.” as he retreats out the door, he prays you didn’t notice his blushing cheeks.

once tsukishima is out the door, you waste no time crafting a new message to your friend - but you find yourself struggling to piece together sentences as you snack on the ice cream tsukki brought you, the cold sensation easing your aching throat. was that really the same guy who’s been an asshole to you since the day you started working with him?

it’s incredible that the two of you even spent 2 minutes together without being at each other’s throats like usual, and even more so that someone as harsh and bitter as tsukishima would do something as kind as show up at your door with ice cream when you’re sick. he even said something to make you feel better - and it worked.

realizing that you’ve zoned out, you quickly snap your attention back to your message. but as you continue typing, you find your thoughts continually drifting back to the tall, bespectacled blond and his uncharacteristic kindness.

by the time you manage to write what you have to say and hit send, tsukishima is safely out of earshot when the new message pings on his phone.

he smiles and hopes that you figure it out soon, too.

a/n: i hope the ending for this one is clear addsdsdf,,,, i watched the entire roundabout she loves me revival to get inspired for this (and by get inspired i mean remember the plot details of she loves me bc i had only seen it once before lmao) tbh the narrative of this fic actually covers like 3 different songs, bc old musicals are weird and thought it was necessary to make looking for a shoe an entire number. anyways, all I have to offer you today is laura benanti being utter perfection and all of my love <3

taglist: @izagraceee​ @musicgetsmeoutofbed​ @azo-musxas​ @tsumurai @ghostlydiamond135 @animeboysimppp

[parkvcrs]

Stakeout ;

SUMMARY: steve harrington and dustin henderson go on a stakeout, searching for soviet spies.

PAIRING: steve harrington x fem!reader.

WARNING(S): mild cursing since dustin swears like a sailor sometimes.

NOTES: i hope you have a good day. ^—^

The Starcourt Mall was a shopping centre located in Hawkins, Indiana and a subsidiary of Starcourt Industries. The mall's opening in 1985 was inaugurated by Mayor Larry Kline. Both Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley worked at the Scoops Ahoy, an ice cream store, in the mall's food court. The place quickly became a popular hangout for teenagers and adolescents.

Although Starcourt appears to be a normal mall at first glance, it was actually built as a front for a secret Russian base, which houses the first Key built on American soil. This base was hidden far underground. Starcourt Industries is also controlled by the Soviet Union.

At the Starcourt Mall, Robin is translating the Russian message, rejecting Erica Sinclair’s request for more "samples". Her coworker Steve Harrington is not on duty, instead sneaking around the mall with Dustin Henderson using a pair of binoculars.

“You see anything?” Dustin questioned his partner in crime who is currently looking at shoppers through the pair of binoculars as the pair hid behind a planet display. “Uh, I guess I don't totally know what I'm looking for.” Steve sighed, longing for their search to end so he could return to the job that pays him minimum-wage.

“Evil Russians.”

“Yeah, exactly. I don't know what an evil Russian looks like.” Steve pointed out, mumbling.

“Tall, blond, not smiling,” Dustin presumed what the Soviets looked like, frowning as he looked around the perimeter of the mall as well. Steve, hummed since he was humoured by the teenager’s persistent demeanour. “Also, look for earpieces, camo, duffel bags, that sort of thing.”

“Right, okay, duffel bags,” Steve repeated the boy’s sentence in a groggy tone. After a few moments, something catches his attention. “Oh, you've gotta be kidding me.”

The tone in Steve Harrington’s voice intrigued Dustin Henderson beyond all recognition because he believed they found a lead in their investigation. “What?” The teenager asked in a hurried manner.

“Y/n L/n is talking with that meathead Mark Lewinsky.” Steve groans, squinting his eyes to ensure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

Dustin peels behind the plant they hid behind, searching for Y/n before catching a glance at her. “She works at JCPenney. She’s talking to customers since it’s her job, you Airhead. You aren’t focused, just give me the binoculars.” Dustin briefly explained the situation before ultimately wanting to reprimand his superior of his binocular privileges.

“Aw, whatever happened to standards?” Steve ignored the young boy beside him. He continued to eavesdrop on the people who used to attend Hawkins High School. “I mean, Lewinsky never even came off the bench.” He added.

“Dude, you are the worst spy in history, you know that?” Dustin insulted the high school graduate before taking it upon himself to snatching the binoculars. “Stop, hey. Stop.” Steve swatted the teenager’s hand away as he continued to look at Y/n whilst Dustin was able to take the binoculars and use them to his advance to scout out the Soviets.

“I don't get why you're looking at girls. You literally have the perfect one in front of you — just go talk to her.” Dustin gestured towards the h/c haired girl who separated from Mark Lewinsky and started talking to other customers scattered around the mall.

“You know what? I don’t want to hear any more about N/n. Just…” He then transitioned to a hushed voice, regretting what he was going to say next. “Look for evil Russians?”

“Y/n,” Dustin said quickly to get on Steve’s nerves which seemed to work wonders.

“Seriously, if you say her name again...” Steve trailed off, looking over at Dustin before turning his attention back to the h/c haired girl.

“Y/n,” Dustin repeated himself as Steve Harrington fumed beside the teenager. “No, don't. No.” He waved his arms as a gesture to Dustin that he needed to stop whatever he was trying to achieve.

“N/n, N/n, N/n.”

“No, man, she's not my type,” Steve lied through his teeth and he came to the conclusion that he will go on with his fabrication. “She's not even... in the ballpark of what my type is, all right?”

“What's your type again? Not awesome?” Dustin poked fun at the adult’s taste in women. “Thank you,” Steve replies in a sarcastic tone as the young teenager hums.

“And, for your information, she's still in school. And she's... weird?” Steve’s tone was inquisitive, his eyebrows knitting together as he tried to come up with more excuses. Yeah… she's a weirdo. And she's hyper — always happy when she came to school. I don't like that she's hyper. And I think she did drama. And you know that’s a bad look.”

“Now that you're out of high school, which means you're technically an adult, don't you think it's time you move on from primitive constructs such as popularity?” Dustin practically insulted Steve, lowering the binoculars from his eyes.

“Oh, primitive constructs?” He repeated his sentence. “That some stupid shit you learned at Camp...” he gestured towards Dustin’s hat. “Know... Nothing?”

“Camp Know Where, actually,” Dustin corrected Steve, giving him a strained smile because he took pride in going to the camp for the summer. “And no, it's shit I learned from life. Instead of dating somebody you think is gonna make you look cooler, why not date somebody you actually enjoy being around — although I don’t know N/n all that well. Just look at me and Suzie for an example.”

“Oh, Suzie. Yeah, you mean, ‘hotter than Phoebe Cates,’” He didn’t believe that Dustin actually managed to get a girlfriend over the course of the season. “And, uh, let's think about how exactly did you score that beautiful girlfriend?”

Before Dustin could respond to Steve’s questions, a voice interrupted their discussion, “Harrington!” It was a feminine voice that the graduate recognized almost immediately.

The boys looked in the general direction of the spokesperson to see none other than Y/n L/n approaching them. Steve was like a deer in headlights, stunned that he was spotted.

As she got closer, Steve nudged Dustin in the ribs and signalled towards the binoculars he had in hand and silently demanded him to hid them. Not wanting Y/n to get the wrong idea.

Knowing that Y/n was bound to embrace him, Steve wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, gently rubbing her arm before pulling away for a few seconds.

“Have have you been?” She laughed, resting her hands on her hip. “Good.” Steve did not want to admit that he concluded not to go to college and was now working at a store that paid minimum wage.

“What are you doing here?” Y/n looks between the two, knowing that it would be rude not to include Dustin into their chat.

“Looking for evil Russians.” Dustin Henderson admitted, earning him a sigh from Steve who pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Okay?” Y/n giggles at the teenager’s peculiar response. “Well, my colleague, Vanessa, told me that you work at Scoops Ahoy. I didn’t know you worked there.” She looked at Steve’s brightly coloured sailor uniform that he donned.

“You didn’t?” Steve asks, checking the liability of her declaration.

“Yeah. I might have to come down there sometime when I’m on break to see what it’s like,” Y/n nods her head, looking around at the crowd just as a distance voice calls for her. She awkwardly laughs, facing the boys sheepishly, “That must be my manager. I should get going. See you around, Harrington.” She bids farewell as she left their side.

“Y-Yeah...” Steve Harrington stammered, watching as she disappeared among the shoppers. “Told you so.” Dustin Henderson laughed, pulling out the binoculars that he hid behind his back.

[schnoogles]

rage

@jonsadungeonsanddrabbles ​ new year event!

Day 1: Resolutions

Read on Ao3

He’s not usually a self-conscious person. He’s not. But right now, Jon’s feeling a bit silly about what he’s going to do. He had to though, he promised his friends he’d stick to his New Year’s resolution and do something about keeping his stress levels down. Especially after weeks of nagging from them.

“Jon, you can’t keep overworking yourself!” Sam lectured, “You heard what the doctors said, you’re supposed to stay relatively calm and relaxed, remember?”

Oh he remembered. Almost dying wasn’t something Jon was likely to forget. But it’s not like he was overdoing anything! Of course that didn’t matter though. Sam was so worried that he started lecturing Jon almost every day and trying to tell him what to eat, how much sleep to get, how much exercise he should be doing. It was fine, until Sam started getting their other friends to be overly concerned with Jon’s well-being too.

Which was how he ended up here. Mat in hand, standing in front of a yoga studio. 

He’s not entirely sure how it was supposed to help him relax, but Tormund’s cousin -Jon’s ex- swears by it. Apparently, when Ygritte heard Jon needed some stress-relieving, she immediately gave her cousin the business card for this place and told him that the best sessions were Tuesday and Thursday nights. When Jon found out Ygritte goes to the Tuesday night sessions, he signed up for Thursday. Despite the amicable break up, he’d rather not be in a room with his ex girlfriend and attempt to do things like the Plough pose. And, if he were honest, she usually makes his stress levels and blood pressure rise. 

With a deep breath, Jon opened the door and walked in. 

--

“Okay everyone,” the instructor said from the front of the room, “I know there are a few new faces today, but I think we’ve all gotten to know each other by now, yeah? Let’s get to it!”

Jon wasn’t sure what kind of yoga this was, but it certainly didn’t feel like traditional yoga. At least not compared to the one time he got dragged into doing it with Rhaenys. Everything was just so… high energy? He was no expert in yoga, but Jon could have sworn that the class his older sister took him to had a different ambience than this. Maybe he overthinking it and just felt embarrassed for standing there awkwardly. Clearly most of the people here knew each other. Or maybe it was just the instructor’s vivacious personality? The pretty redhead had walked around and spoke with a lot of the people here before taking her spot in front of the room. 

After they were all in the low plank position, the instructor had them breathing in deeply for a few moments. They were supposed to clear their minds or something like that. 

“Come on, Sansa. Are we done with the breathing exercises yet? It’s been a long week and I really need to let off some steam,” someone in the room said. 

Jon looked upon and saw another man looking pointedly at the instructor. What an asshole, he thought. Instead of berating him though, Sansa only chuckled. And if that didn’t confuse Jon, the few chuckles joining her definitely did. Is it funny to be rude now?

“Alright, alright,” Sansa said with a smile, “Right arm out. Deep breaths now. Inhale.”

Jon took a long, deep breath.

“And… exhale.”

Before Jon knew it, everyone was screaming.

“Oh my GODS, the files will be done in just. a. moment!”

“Can you just do the GODDAMN dishes?!”

“Close the fucking door on your way out!”

“No, you can’t have ice cream for dinner!”

Jon dropped his arm and looked wildly about. What the fuck just happened? He was gaping as everyone around him seemed to be yelling at… no one in particular? His bewilderment must have been incredibly noticeable because when he turned back to look upfront, Sansa was staring right back at him. Eyes twinkling and a smile on her face.

“Everyone,” she said in a loud, commanding voice, eyes still on Jon, “What’s the first rule of Rage Yoga?”

“NEVER HOLD BACK!” chorused everyone enthusiastically. 

Jon gaped at Sansa for another moment before laughing. Of course. Of fucking course, the type of yoga class Ygritte goes to is fucking rage yoga. Jon looked at the screaming people around him. Some weren’t even saying anything, they just yelled loudly. 

“Okay!” Eyes still on Jon, Sansa commanded, “Right arm down, left arm up. Inhale!” She raised a brow at him. A challenge. “Exhale!”

“Can I have two minutes to myself, please?!”

“It was in the EMAIL, Karen!”

“No, the customer is not always right!”

“Stop telling me when to eat and sleep! Stop telling me how to relax! I’m a grownass adult and I can take care of myself just fine!”

Jon was still breathing heavily when he looked up at Sansa. This time, both eyebrows were raised as she smiled at him. She looked impressed. And Jon couldn’t stop from smiling back. This was exhilarating. And she was pretty. 

--

Apparently, after rage yoga sessions, there was alcohol. Jon was chuckling to himself as he sipped on his ale. Screaming out his frustrations and drinking alcohol? All the while he could sneak looks at his pretty yoga teacher? Yeah, Jon was feeling mighty stress-free at the moment.

“First time?”

He looked up from his glass and smiled. “What gave it away?”

“The look of shock and fear when everyone started yelling.” Sansa smirked. “That and I’ve never seen you in my classes before. I’d remember a face like yours.” 

Something about the way she said that made Jon blush. He really shouldn’t be having a crush on his yoga instructor, but here he is.

“Yeah,” he said sheepishly, “I didn’t actually know this was a rage yoga class. Didn’t even know it was a thing.”

“What are you doing after class, Jon?”

“Oh, um, probably head home?”

“Interested in joining me for a bite?” she asked, “I can tell you all about rage yoga. Or regular yoga, if you’d rather join my normal classes.”

“Yeah, yeah! That sounds great!” He hoped he didn’t sound too eager.

Half an hour later, she locked up her studio and they made their way down the block to a small diner. Jon made a mental note to thank his friends for pushing him to do this. Best resolution ever.