#that's why the coffee shop au is suffering

[upsidedownwithsteve]

A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [3.7K]

THE TIMELINE

"There was something 'bout you that now I can't remember, It's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender. And I miss you on a train, I miss you in the morning, I never know what to think about. I think about you."

- About You By The 1975

V. HAWKINS, INDIANA: 1988

Two years had passed since the last gate had closed and despite the aftermath of the “earthquakes,” Vecna had yet to make any sort of reappearance. 

Max’s bones healed, eventually, and she regained most of her sight, relying on thick lensed glasses when she grew tired or the words in her books turned blurry. Nancy went to college, Jonathan tried it for a year, Hopper took El on a month-long camping trip to see something other than the town repairing itself and Lucas went to therapy. 

Soon, each kid followed suit, attending sessions that eventually helped them sleep a little better because even though they couldn’t tell the person on the other side of the coffee table about monsters and the world under their feet, there had been enough death and suffering to fill the hour with regardless. 

Dustin told Steve he should go too and Robin agreed. After Eddie’s funeral, the one where they all stood with Wayne, a guy from the garage Eddie worked at on weekends and the remaining Hellfire members beside a small gravestone, they had another one. 

A second ceremony near the woods behind Eddie’s trailer, close to where he died, to where Dustin had found him bleeding and proud. The kids cried and Joyce held on tight to Will while Jonathan hugged Nancy and Dustin punched a tree trunk. It felt better than the first one, easier somehow, when they didn’t have to lie and hide the guilt they had at knowing each and every one of them felt a little shame in having a hand in someone’s else’s death. 

But it was closure. 

The town healed, roads were repaired, houses rebuilt, new flowers planted in the park in memory of those who had been lost in the accident - the natural disaster that made headlines, the one that no one could have predicted. 

Steve helped Dustin clean Eddie’s grave when the spray paint covered the dead boy’s name. Robin stopped crying when she looked in the mirror each morning. Jonathan left his room. 

The kids got better. They smiled more, went to the new arcade on opening day, shared slushies and rode their bikes around town again. Joyce visited Wayne when she could, took him pies and meatloaf and eventually got him out of his armchair and into a coffee shop for a full hour. Hopper got his job back, had a ceremony that preceded the funeral he had years before and Robin managed to get her and Steve a sweet gig at the record store that replaced Family Video. 

It felt fresh. New. Clean. 

So why was Steve still dreaming about gates?

For the third night in a row, he woke up gasping. A yell stuck in his throat that tasted like metal, like blood, and he was drenched. Shirtless, his sheets stuck to his chest, the weight of them tangled around his legs in a sickly familiar way, vines tugging at his ankles. His room was dark, the house empty, too quiet. Quiet enough that his breath ripped from his lungs in harsh pants, his head pounding from the exertion of running in his dream, back in a place that he hadn’t seen in almost twenty one months. 

At first, he dreamt of death. 

Of Eddie and how they found him lifeless and in Dustin’s arms. How Max was barely conscious in the attic of the Creel House, her body broken in ways that no doctor could understand. He dreamt of how he had pulled Lucas away from her, the boy sobbing and yelling, fighting with more strength than he knew he had as Steve tried to restrain him just enough for the paramedics to get Max into the ambulance. 

Then the dreams turned empty. He dreamt of losing everyone, Robin, Dustin, Hop. El was gone, Will too, Mike nowhere to be found. Nancy’s house was empty, Joyce and Jonathan didn’t exist and Steve sat alone in a town that turned grey, crumbling to dust until the vines came back and the clouds turned red. 

He ran miles every night, searching for his friends, his family. Woke up to shaking breaths and sore legs like he’d really sprinted across a town that was no longer home and each morning when the sun rose, he sat with a coffee and his bare legs dipped in the pool in his backyard. He stared at the water until the ripples blurred and wondered how long it would take for Barb to come haunt him too, if she’d reappear in his dreams despite the years that had gone by, if she’d come crawling back out of his pool like she used to, dripping wet and with no eyes. 

But Barb never came and he stopped dreaming of the kids, stopped hearing Lucas’ screams, stopped seeing Max in a hospital bed with blood coming from her eyes and eventually, one night, he dreamt of a gate that he’d never seen before. 

It didn’t even really look like a gate. 

Not the ones Steve knew. It wasn’t framed by dead vines, it didn’t pulsate, it didn’t have a red glow coming from its innards. This one didn’t look like rotting flesh, like a wound in the earth that couldn’t be healed. This one wasn’t at the bottom of a lake, lined with wet moss and cracked rocks, it wasn’t in the Munson trailer nor in the middle of the woods. 

This one opened on a blank wall in Steve’s bedroom, replacing the shelves where his old basketball trophies sat, where he usually left his pile of clothes before falling into bed. In the dream, it started as a crack, a crumbling of plaster and blue plaid wallpaper and Steve watched it open, a yawning thing that split the room and bathed it in light. It was too bright at first, like blinking into a summer sun. And once the white-hot of it cleared from Steve’s eyes, he saw blue skies and he could smell the ocean. 

There were trees he’d never seen before in real life, something out of a movie, tall and green and narrow as they swayed in a breeze he couldn’t really feel from his spot on his bedroom carpet. The buildings were a pinky-peach colour, like clay, with orange slate tiles and there were foundations and statues carved into the walls, water trickling from the mouths of gods and vases that stone faced women held in their marble arms. 

It was like looking at a painting, a canvas between his bed and his old desk, framed with olive branches and large, red fruits that protruded from the gates mouth. 

Pomegranates. 

Steve could smell them, a sweetness that mixed with the ocean air, a kind of freshness that you couldn’t find between the fields and farms that surrounded Hawkins. In the dream, he wanted to move closer but found that he couldn’t, his eyes wide and his bare feet rooted to the spot as he stared at the scene. It felt like a memory the more he looked, the buildings becoming familiar, a baby blue door that looked like somewhere he’d once owned the keys to and the cobbled streets became a well walked way home. 

Then, as if he weren’t supposed to really see it, he spotted something move in an upstairs window. Two houses from the front of the gate, with rusted shutters and white linen curtains, he saw a girl stand between them. 

A pretty girl, with eyes he knew he’d seen before, in a white dress that he was sure he remembered the feeling of. 

The sight of her made Steve’s heart hammer, the dream making him dizzy, the realisation that he knew that girl making the line between unconsciousness and reality a little blurry. He didn’t know her name, or where he knew her from. He didn’t even know where he was looking or why the gate was there. 

But he stared and stared until the girls eyes met his and before he could lift his hand, or even try to speak, there was a crack that seemingly came from the sky - the one above Hawkins or the one inside the gate, he didn’t know - but something flashed, the gate went dark and the rip in his bedroom wall stitched itself back up. 

He woke up feeling like he’d remembered and forgotten something all at once. Like a book he’d read back in middle school, a photo he’d once misplaced, a song he hadn’t heard in years but still remebered some of the words too. 

He knew her. He knew her. 

Steve thought about the girl so much, so often, that it didn’t take him long to think of her, to refer to her, as you. You were someone he’d once known, from a memory or another dream, he wasn't sure. It was the same feeling as watching a movie and seeing a pretty actress on screen, in a different outfit with different hair but knowing her face and wondering what show he’d seen her in before. 

Except with this, there was an aching want that buried itself in his chest at the sight of you, an awful feeling that grew larger each night. And every time his wall cracked open again, it seemed like his ribs did too. A crushing feeling, a yawning expanse inside his body that made room for the way his heart seemed to grow and grow at the sight of you. 

Yearning, that’s what he thought it was. A slow, burning build of it. 

The second night, he dreamt of you in a garden. A sprawling, green lawn with a pond so green-blue it made his eyes hurt. There was an awning beside it, a pergola of sorts made of white stone and it had ivy growing between the pillars, covering the roof and reaching down to trail its flowers in the water below. You were closer than before, than you were in the window, and Steve could see the way your lashes hit your cheeks as you looked down, stitching something that you held in your lap. 

There was a wicker basket beside you, a loaf of fresh bread wrapped in a cloth and he could still smell pomegranates, sweet and tart. There was a space beside you on the blanket, enough room for two but no one else came. 

You were always alone. 

Steve tried to talk to you, to reach out and see if this gate worked like the others, if he could walk through into this other world, this other dimension, but it didn’t work. 

Not yet, anyway. 

You seemed to notice him more on the fifth night, as he watched you walk along the edge of a lake. Your hair was shorter now and your clothes had changed. They look more modern, more like his, the cabins behind you reminiscent of a summer camp, a holiday lodge or something. He could hear music, a song he swore he heard on the radio not too long ago and that night, you watched him back. 

It seemed like you were waiting for someone. And when Steve saw your face light up with a smile, his heart stumbled. You raised your arm, reaching out a hand to the edge of the gate, off to the side as if someone else was in Steve’s walls. He saw another hand reach for yours, larger, definitely male, with a freckle where the thumb joined the palm. 

The jealousy he felt was unmatched, a burning thing that scorched his chest and his throat, hot needles at the back of his mouth. Before the man came into view, the crack in his wall trembled and the gate stitched itself closed once more, leaving plaster dust and flakes of paint on his carpet. 

Apart from the small mess, no one would have ever guessed another world opened up inside of Steve Harrington’s bedroom each night. 

It took him a week and half to notice his hand had a freckle in the same spot. A small beauty mark he’d never really paid attention to before, painted in the space that joined his thumb to his hand. He tried not to read too much into it, tried not to hold onto the hope that maybe it meant something - because none of this made sense, not really. 

They were just dreams. Strange things, brain scrambling things. But it was a welcome reprieve from death and darkness and vines that held onto him too tight. He no longer woke up in a cold sweat, he no longer wished for morning to come, no matter how tired he felt when he opened his eyes. 

Steve wondered if anyone else was experiencing these kinds of dreams. If the rest of the party were getting glimpses of other worlds, other timelines. He wasn’t sure what they were, too scared to ask, too afraid to make everyone else worry. The thought that these dreams could be a trick crossed his mind more than once, a new tactic from Vecna, an infiltration of his sleep that was meant to lull him into some kind of false sense of security. 

Safety - an unknown feeling. 

But everyone else spent their days talking about school and their new bosses, the fair that was coming to town to celebrate the town hall finally being rebuilt. No one mentioned Vecna or dreams or gates or girls they knew from somewhere they couldn’t place. 

So Steve accepted the fact that whatever these dreams were - whatever they meant - they were just for him. Which meant that you were his too. 

Weeks went by with Steve viewing you from the split in his wall, sometimes hearing music, sometimes hearing your muffled voice. Never real words, never loud enough to hear and it didn’t seem like you could hear him either. But Steve watched, enraptured, following you around different parts of the world, new countries and scenes that he could never really place but, oh my god, each one felt like home with you in it. 

Then one night, he saw himself. 

He felt the surge of panic flood him even in his sleep, his body jolting against his bed as he saw the familiar face, staring back at him, nonplussed. He looked a little different, maybe older. His hair was shorter at the back, cropped closer to the nape of his neck but the biggest difference was how happy he looked. 

This Steve, the one in his dream, inside this gate - this Steve from another time, another life - he looked lighter. He didn’t have purple smudges under his eyes, no deep lines settling across his forehead from frowning so much. His clothes were different too, looser, less fitting, the colours more muted. He wore a pair of jeans that looked much more comfortable than his tight Levi’s, a soft burgundy sweater that had the sleeves rolled up. 

Steve didn’t recognise where this dream took place, but he knew it wasn’t Hawkins. America, yeah, the street signs and licence plates on the cars in the street giving that detail away, but he wasn’t too sure where. The buildings were bigger, shinier, more glass than brick but the skies were still blue and it looked peaceful, warm. 

Safe. 

Dream Steve strolled down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, looking back over his shoulder every now and then as if to make sure the real Steve was following him. He walked past storefronts and stopped to pet a dog, a golden retriever who was waiting for his owner outside of a bakery. When he came to a bookstore, Steve could see a large building in the distance, a huge billboard atop it that looked like it was advertising a new movie, or a show maybe. It didn’t have much details on it, no actors nor dates to tell what year this was supposed to be. 

Certainly not 1988. 

It only had lettering across it, big and bold and red against a pristine white background: “ANOTHER LIFE.”

The bell to the bookstore jingled and then Steve saw you. As pretty as you had been in every other gate, every other world, every other lifetime. Like a figurine inside a snow globe, like something from a fairytale. Steve had never seen you this close before. 

He watched your smile, the way it widened at the sight of his counterpart, this other version of him. You were so pretty that his breath got caught in his lungs, his sleeping body kicking out in shock when you lunged at the dream version of him, throwing your arms around his shoulders in greeting. 

Steve watched the two figures embrace on the street, he watched how this luckier man got to bring his hand to your cheek and hold to there to kiss, how his lips - Steve’s own lips - met your own and parted them, mouths melting together in something that was so much more than a quick hello. 

Steve didn’t have it in him to feel jealous then. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to. He watched the hand that held your jaw, the thumb that caressed your cheekbone as you grinned into him, your own hands clutching his waist now. There was a freckle, the same as the one he had on his own hand, in the matching spot on yours. This Steve took that hand and kissed that very mark, smacking kisses across your palm and up your wrist until you were laughing, head thrown back, eyes bright. 

Steve hadn’t seen anything so happy. 

He woke up before the dream finished, before the gate closed. Steve woke up with tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, his vision blurry in the navy gloom of his bedroom. It wasn’t yet morning. There was no gate on his bedroom fall, no new city between the plaid striped wallpaper. 

He thought it could’ve been Chicago, maybe New York. Perhaps Philadelphia. 

He wondered if he left and went looking for that bookstore, that street, that billboard, he’d find you too. If he was supposed to, if you were real, if this life was all he was supposed to get. 

Something told him otherwise, that open crack inside his chest that made him ache for hours after he awoke. He never forgot about you during the day, each life he’d watched you live, how you had grown your hair out and then cut it, how you seemed to change your clothing depending on where you were, from old petticoats to jeans and shirts with logos on them he’d never seen before. 

Steve felt like he’d lived a thousand lives with you. 

He wasn’t sure what he had to do to get you in this one. 

After two weeks of dreaming of this life with you, one that he was so sure would happen, he spoke to Joyce. He waited until the kids dragged Hopper out into the yard to help them with some sort of rocket they wanted to make and he found her in the kitchen. It was the closest kind of feeling he had to home - bar from the sight of you, but he wasn’t really sure if that counted when he was asleep. 

So he tried to sound casual when he leaned over the Byers kitchen counter, elbows avoiding the jelly stains that Mike had left after making a sandwich, and asked, “hey, uh, do you believe in soulmates?”

Joyce blinked at him, flour and butter between her fingers as she tried to turn the page in her recipe book back to the instructions for apple pie. The book flopped shut when she let go, her hands reaching for a rag instead. Her eyes never left Steve’s. 

“Uh, well. I guess so,” she paused, head tilted to the side as she watched the younger man, how his cheeks turned pink and his gaze fell to the floor. “I haven’t thought about it all that much. Why’d you ask?”

Steve didn’t know what to say then. So he floundered, flushed in the face and nose scrunched as he ran his fingers through his hair too harshly, hoping that no one else walked in. What was he supposed to say? That he was dreaming of gates in his bedroom walls? But it was okay? ‘Cause these ones didn’t have monsters or creatures set out to kill him, no, these gates held something that he thought he’d once had, that they held something he was so sure he was supposed ot have again?

Maybe, just not in this life.

Maybe, this time, something was broken. Wires were crossed, cut, unravelled. Maybe the upside down messed up a timeline, maybe it ripped apart whatever plan it had originally laid out for Steve Harrington. 

He didn’t know. But he knew it sounded crazy, even in his head.

So he shrugged and said, “no reason.”

And then that night, after Joyce gave him funny looks over the dinner she served him and the rest of his friends, the kitchen table full, he went home and lay on his bed, hardly bothering to pull the sheets over his bare chest.

He counted his breaths, hoped for sleep and wished for you.

Like always, his room grew darker, his lids heavier and the crack in his bedroom wall crumbled and split until the dust settled and he saw your face. You were alone this time, pretty as ever and in the same looking city he’d last seen himself in. The skies were blue behind you, the buildings still tall and shiny looking, all glass window panes and metal framework. If he concentrated enough, he could smell summer.

Hot tarmac and sunscreen, fresh fruit from one of the stores behind you, tart lemons and freshly ground coffee. 

You were looking right at him and even in his sleep, Steve smiled. Your eyes were pretty, too pretty, the colour bright and your gaze excited as you gazed at him. Like you’d been waiting. You held out a hand, coaxing, kind, soft, patient. And for the first time, when Steve reached out too, his hand slipped through the gate. 

He was right, about the season, about it being summer. The air inside this world was warm on his skin, like the sun was on him despite being sprawled out in the blue gloom of his dark bedroom. It felt like a July morning, right before the heat hit. 

He was almost touching your fingers when he woke up alone again.

[coolprettyleo]

my soul has changed? - will smith au

wc: 1.4k

tw: depression, suggestion of an ED, awkwardness? mean girl.

will smith x oc celebrini sister!

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lola celebrini was in a point of her life where everything felt still. she was pretty sure she was suffering from depression and it was a cycle she didn't know how to get out of.

she would wake up, go to school, go to work, and then sleep. she was lucky if she fitted a meal in between that meant she had lost tons of weight.

she had been a pretty healthy teen, she played hockey up until high school alongside her brothers; but when the time came to play college hockey, she got no offers. contributing to her depression.

it was a sport she held so much love and dedication, she couldn't understand why she hadn't been good enough? I mean her brothers were good enough, they got college offers. macklin was even projected to go first overall, so why couldn't she?

those were thoughts that were constantly haunting her mind. if she found something to forget them they would flood back in, like if they wanted her to be a lifeless doll she had been feeling like.

her family had been really worried for her. she had finally seen her brothers after a year, at the NCCAA playoffs and it only caused them to worry more.

flashbacks

lola knew that macklin and aiden were gonna bombard her with questions as soon as they were alone. they could hardly recognize her. growing up she was always a smiling person with a big personality and now she was about forty pounds lighter and was a ghost of the person she used to be.

"april what's going on" macklin said shutting the door behind him.

"what do you mean"

"cut the bullshit. I know your not okay, you barley answer my text anymore, what's wrong"

"it's nothing mack-"

"no it's not nothing, maybe I can fix it-

"you cant 'fix' it"

"and why not-"

"because I don't know what wrong with me!"

that had been about two weeks ago. she just didn't know what to tell her family. she really didn't understand why she had been feeling that way.

she was currently at work where she was a barista in a cute coffee shop. she honestly loved working there, she had got the job when she was in high school and had kept it till college. seeing as she didn’t move far away for college, choosing to stay close to her parents.

she often wondered if she might be happier if she moved away just like everyone else did, just like her brothers did. but it would always end in her telling herself; that it's not worth dwelling on.

it was currently six am and at this time of day there weren’t many customers. the cafe was always busy mid day when people were looking to find somewhere to study.

so she was surprised when she turned the open side around, to find a boy waiting outside to come in. a boy who looked a lot like will smith.

lola wasn’t an idiot to hockey, she kept up with it a fairly good amount, so she would have to be living under a rock to not know the guy who dominated the ice at her brothers rivalry school.

that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to act like she didn’t know him.

he reached for the handle and took a look at her before turning as red as a tomato and blushing,

“hey, are you guys open?” he asked nervously, mentally slapping himself because he just saw her turn the sign around, to ‘open’

“uhm yeah I’ll be with you in a sec” she told him.

will couldn’t help but think her voice was cute. she had a rasp to it that made him want to give her everything she’s ever wanted.

lola finished up, putting the coffee too brew and turned to the counter.

“okay! order when your ready”

“uhm. i actually never been here before… any recs?” he asked after a moment nervously scratching his neck.

“well I get a dirty chai, but considering my brothers hate it, you might hate it too… I guess you might like a frap?” she told him, a little too monotone.

“yeah okay” he told her again nervously. he found her to be breathtakingly beautiful.

he paid and stood back as she got to making the drink.

“you from here?” will asked hoping to make small talk.

“uhm kinda. I was born in Vancouver but moved here when my dad got a job”

will panicked. oh god was she still in highschool

lola must of saw the worry on his face because she added,

“that was a couple years ago, im eighteen now” she said smiling at his face. something she didn’t do often anymore.

“oh, i’m eighteen too”

“oh yeah, what brings you to san jose, school?” she said innocently knowing very well he was drafted here and was most likely here to work on development.

“no. I”m came to meet with some people here. I go to boston college” he answered. lola starting to not feel so bad because she saw he didn’t want to right away say he was a hockey player.

“far from home huh”

“yeah, i’m literally across the country from everything and everybody i’ve ever known” he told her wanting to slap himself. did she need to know that!?!

“i’m sorry. it’ll get easier” she said remembering her brother had been homesick too but utimatly started feeling better after some time-- as she handing him his drinks and gave him a sympathetic face.

“yeah i hope so, i should be moving here soon, if everything goes right” he said as he took a sip.

“hey this is good!” he said taking another sip as lola smiled. something that will thought looked amazing on her.

lola smiled at him remembering the fact her brothers liked that drink. boys were so typical

“i’m glad… and hey— if you ever need a friend in town my names lola” she told him as she held her hand out to him to shake.

will starred at it for a moment before he quickly met her hand.

“will” he told the girl with a smile.

they were cut out of there moment when two customers walked in.

“I should get back to work. i’ll see you around will” she told him as he smiled a nodded and walked right out.

say something! ask for my number! do anything!

lola felt really dumb after she basically just presented herself in a silver platter to the boy and he didn’t finish his part in asking for her number. he had definitely rejected her in the nicest way someone possibly could.

meanwhile will got into the Uber with a gitty feeling. she seemed really cool and having someone to hang out with other than his teammates was going to be so nice.

he was midway into the meeting with some general managers when he realized he didn’t even ask for her number.

“oh my god” he mumbled as he came to the realization

"i'm sorry?" one of the GM's said confused.

“uhh— I said I was excited to join the franchise!” he covered up, feeling like an idiot.

hopefully she was still there after the meeting.

the meeting had gone a little to long for his liking and as he raced down to the coffee shop he hoped she was working a long shift.

he opened the door to see a blonde girl who looked old but yet looked young, and a taller boy with curly hair working behind the counter.

“hi. is lola working today?” he said breathlessly

the blonde eyed him for a moment before smirking,

“I don't recall a lola ever working here...my name samantha though” she said with a face that will knew was a face of someone who was lying.

“yes there is, she helped me earlier-"

“if your here to file a complaint against her, I can totally help you then,” she said

“no she was great— wait, you said you didn’t know an lola-“

“your looking for lola?” the other barista cut in

“yeah she was here earlier, i was hoping she was still here”

“she got off like two hours ago but i can give you her number!” the curly haired boy told will. he was one of lola's friends and he wasn’t going to ruin this opportunity for her.

“you totally can’t do that!” the blonde girl said in a nasally voice.

“shutup samantha. go take candy from a baby or something” he sassily told her.

she rolled her eyes before walking away to wipe a table down.

“sorry about her, here’s her number— good luck!”

“thankyou so much” he told him as he thought about what exactly to text the pretty girl.

both lola and will not knowing the epic love story they were about embark on.

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hi guys! i hope this is kinda good, dont feel shy to send in ask and au thoughts… i like never get any but im so open to it!!

[itsrainingbubbles]

So I have this very specific idea but I'm struggling to put it into words and I'm gonna try anyway so it might not make sense

Highschool au/ college au idk just some type of school but I'm biased towards highschool au I just love them

Anyways Luffy goes into the library to 'study' and by study I mean he knew he needed to study but he didn't want to so he got as far as opening the book and then immediately got bored as he read the same page over and over again not really registering the words

About an hour goes by and all he's accomplished is writing 'this is boring why is this a thing' on the page or something along those lines about it being annoying and then he leaves the library

Then law comes along who also needs to study and gets the same book Luffy had and finds what Luffy wrote and he writes a response and doesn't end up checking out the book

So then Luffy comes back because yeah he really needed to study and gets the book again and finds a response to his writing so he writes a response back and leaves the book in hopes of getting a response again cause in his mind this could be a new friend!

Idk why law would go back and look at the book again but he does and finds that the person responded so he decides why not write a response back again

This goes on for weeks and Luffys friends are actually kinda worried cause he's been going to the library like 3 times a week and he always seems excited about it too

Then one day law comes in looking for the book but it's not there so he asks the librarian if someone checked it out and she tells him that they had to take it off the shelf due to excessive vandalism and that it's already been thrown away

Law told himself this didn't upset him even though it obviously did, his friends tried to get his mind off it even if law insisted it didn't matter to him

When law inevitably gave in and let his friends take him out the first stop of the day was getting him coffee and by some miracle Luffy worked part time there and wrote laws name on the cup, which law recognized the handwriting of but only like 2 hours later to which then (though he'll later deny it) ran back to the coffee shop to see luffy

Law caught Luffy just as he was about to leave, completely out of breath all he could say was "library...book.....you?" In between his shallow breaths

It took Luffy a minute to figure it out but when he did he was ecstatic and hugged law, who was still trying to catch his breath, in the tightest hug imaginable so law was just suffering but he had also never been happier

I wanna say they started dating like a month later and luffy never did study lmao

[synthetickitsune]

It was supposed to be a nice, cozy job (minus all the necessary interaction with people but beggars can't be choosers). You liked the vibe of the place, you seemed like a good fit with the people you met during the interview. Everything was fine.

Then you found out that another person is being hired along with you. Cool. Fine. Except not.

Yoon Jeonghan is mildly inconvenient at best and infuriating at worst. He's also the reason behind the sudden spike in popularity of the small cafe you work at. If it were just his looks, you'd understand.

But why is this pathological liar pretending to be a fortune teller in the dumbest way possible?

Main course: Yoon Jeonghan x reader With a side of: Joshua Hong & reader Garnish: coworkers Minghao, Chan Genre: coffee shop au, fluff, some angst Includes: oblivious idiots, coworkers to lovers, fake dating, one-sided jihan rivalry, some fake texts Warnings: switching pov, food mentions, reader suffers from anxiety a lil ...to be added as the story goes on A/N: this was supposed to be a short and sweet thing but then @hanniedream slid into my dms like "what if hannie had a rival? :)" and fed my dellusions a little too much and here we fucking are

Chapter I - [Milk Swirls of Destiny] Chapter II - [wip]

[ja3mln]

hi can u do renjun e2l fluff when he sees u get hurt please!

cw: gn reader, fluff, wound, mention of blood (only once), e2l au

words: 585

a/n: it's my first time writing e2l so it's not rly good im sorry😭 hope u like it!

requests open!

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you love your little summer job as a bartender in a cute, small coffee shop. no, the job really isn't the problem. your coworker, though, is another story. working with renjun is exhausting—his mean comments, leaving you to do all the dirty work, and mocking you whenever he gets the chance. nevertheless, you've learned to ignore all of this because it's just a summer job, and it will be over in two months. that's what you tell yourself every day.

today was different, though; you had a long and exhausting day. it was just one of those bad days that happen. you started your shift pretty late but tried your best to serve clients with patience. the thing is, today, renjun has the same shift as you, and just hearing his irritating voice makes you want to quit on the spot. but you hold on.

as the hours pass, you find yourself getting more and more tired, and renjun's comments surely do not help. it's as if he enjoys seeing you suffer. it was a busy night. you're used to rushes and know how to manage them, but today, you were just too mentally and physically exhausted. as you hastily carry a tray filled with drinks, you stumble on your own foot, causing the tray to tip dangerously. in a reflex, you try to steady the tray, but in doing so, a shard from a broken glass pierces your palm. "fuck," you whisper a bit too loud because you hear footsteps coming your way. but you just stand here, looking at your bloody hand and feeling your eyes getting watery. you don't even know if it's because of the pain or because today wasn't your day and you couldn't take it anymore.

too deep in your thoughts, you didn't notice renjun standing besides you, holding your hand and looking at you with a hint of worry in his expression. "shit, are you okay?" he asks, and you can hear panic in his voice. you don't even have the strength to answer or fight back and just let him bring you to the staff room to get the aid kit. you just sit there, renjun holding your hand and trying to take care of it, and you can't do anything but watch him and try to collect yourself.

"i'm... i'm sorry," he mumbles after a long silence, while his shaky hands clean the wounds. you look at him, a bit surprised by his words and looking for any sarcasm, but he's avoiding eye contact. you totally forget to answer for a minute, and he looks at you, a bit hesitant and ashamed. "you're what?" your voice is shaky because of the pain but also the tiredness.

"i'm sorry, okay? i'm sorry for being such a jerk," he says more clearly, and you can't help but laugh, you don't even know why. renjun looks at you, confused, and he lets go of your now bandaged hand. "thank you" you say softly, and you don't know if you're thanking him for the bandage or for the apologies. maybe both. he just nods, a bit confused by the situation, but when he sees a small smile appearing on your lips, he smiles back at you.

since that day, renjun has been nicer to you. it took some time for you both to get along, but it was way better than before. renjun tries to help you more often, sharing the dirty work with you, and you both even have small talks. the summer is almost over, and renjun was getting more and more fond of you. he was just waiting for the right time to ask you out.

[slothquisitor]

Invisible String: Chapter Six

A Baldur’s Gate III Modern AU.

Chapter Summary: Astarion realizes he doesn't know that much about Liv's past, and while he's not sure if he can ask her about it, he knows someone who can.

Read from the beginning.

Read on AO3.

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Astarion never used to like weekends. Once they meant the busiest nights at Cazador’s club, performance and touches he didn’t want but couldn’t say no to. In freedom, they’ve meant odd shifts at the Elfsong, smiling and cajoling and smoothing things over for patrons in a safer, but still too familiar role. But now that Liv is here, the weekend is none of those things. 

It’s slow Saturday mornings with the apartment smelling of coffee, of books scattered on the coffee table, and Liv with her laptop open telling him about some obscure manuscript she’s thinking of incorporating into her exhibition. Weekends mean bickering over what constitutes ‘cleaning music’ and both of them calling out at intervals to the smart speaker, “Hey Selune, play…” increasingly ridiculous songs in an effort to annoy each other. Saturdays mean takeout he suffers through eating because he can’t tell her he’s already eaten when she’s home all day, but even as he swallows down ashen food and then sneakily throws the rest away, it’s still kind of nice sharing a meal with someone. 

And then Monday comes and Liv returns to work, and he’s left alone in their apartment whiling the hours away with work and shopping and messaging her on The Weave. She’s different on the Weave, but not by much, just more open. He feels like he can ask her more questions there than he ever can in real life. She’s still so guarded so much of the time. She makes little comments, jokes here or there and he holds onto them, hoards these little gems of information she offers him. He’s learned startlingly little. She hardly ever talks about her family or her life in Cormyr, but she’s happy to chat about work and friends and anything here in Baldur’s Gate. Even after nearly a month as roommates, he’s still not sure what he’s allowed to ask. 

But even if he can’t, FangtasticLover can. So, during one deeply boring afternoon, he does.

FangtasticLover: I realize that you’ve never told me much about your family. Is our pocket comradeship at a high enough level for that personal of a question?

Books>People: It’s not about the level of comradeship, but instead how bummed out you want to be this afternoon. 

FangtasticLover: That bad?

Books>People: Yeah, and also kind of embarrassing, honestly. 

FangtasticLover: Why? Now I’m wondering what could both be a bummer and mortifying at the same time. 

Books>People: It’s more that I feel embarrassed sharing it? Like…how could I be so stupid kind of a thing? 

FangtasticLover: I would never think you’re stupid. You don’t have to tell me anything. 

He adds the second bit more out of obligation than any real belief. He desperately wants to know whatever it is she’s hiding about her family. Was this what drove her away? Is this why she avoids ever bringing them up? What sort of scandal can he look up on her? His internet search of Vires in Cormyr hadn’t returned anything of use so no one was in jail or had made a big enough fuss to get a headline written about them. Still, he’s dying to know. 

Books>People: I went no contact with my family about six months ago. I have a sister that I’m still cool with, but kind of on my own now. 

No contact? Liv went no contact with her family? Astarion stares at her message. Well, they must have done something exceedingly fucked up for her to cut them off. She’s far too nice, too polite, too concerned about being an inconvenience. He’s seen it in the time they’ve lived together like she’s constantly trying to measure how much space she’s allowed to carve out for herself. It’s almost no wonder she hadn’t ever added a damn thing into their shared space until he’d suggested it, and now the art hangs on the wall, her books fill the shelves, but it still feels tentative somehow. 

FangtasticLover: Well, good riddance then. 

Book>People: People tend to be a tad more incredulous when I tell them about it. 

FangtasticLover: They clearly don’t know just how good of taste in people you have then. 

Books>People: Oh?

FangtasticLover: Well, look at me. Practically perfect in every way. So if you say they’re not worth your time, I believe you.

Books>People: Thank you. That was why I moved. Cormyr felt too small and like too many people knew my family…my parents especially. They have a good reputation there, so a lot of people didn’t understand. 

He remembers what it was like in Cazador’s club, the way he charmed and dealt with patrons until no one would ever believe he’d be cruel to Astarion and his other siblings. He remembers trying once, to tell someone what it was really like. Their disbelief had hurt worse than the torture after Cazador found out. So, some part of him is glad to believe her. To give her that at least. 

FangtasticLover: That must have been hard when you knew what they were really like. 

Books>People: Except that I didn’t…not really. I mean, my parents had always been difficult. Impossible to please, hard to read their ever-changing moods, and entirely dismissive of any criticism of themselves. But I didn’t realize how bad it really was until there was this big family event thing, you know with extended family and friends and shit? My mom asked to see me beforehand; I didn’t have any idea what it was about, but she came over to my apartment, she parked out front so I went down to talk to her there. I didn’t understand why she didn’t want to come in. It was so weird. 

Books>People: And then she laid out a patchwork of lies they’d been telling our whole lives, and then told me that I had a half-brother I’ve never met. Which…it wouldn’t have been that bad or terrible a thing to learn, but then I found out that everyone else in my family already knew about it. I was the last to know, and she’d only told me because she didn’t want someone to say something at the family event where I could cause a scene. 

Books>People: Problem was…I was still expected at the event…and I showed up like the dutiful daughter. Only to get berated by my parents afterward because ‘everyone could tell something was up with me’. They didn’t care that I was hurt, they were concerned about me shattering the illusion of the perfect family they’d built. 

The messages roll in, one right after another. And he reads them once, twice. He’s trying to imagine the shape of it, Liv at this event discovering that everyone else in her family already knows more about her life than she had. 

FangtasticLover: So then you went no contact? 

Books>People: I wish I had. I tried to salvage it…have a conversation about it. My parents just made me feel like the crazy one for being upset at all. I’d gone into the conversation with a whole list of talking points I’d made with my therapist and it all had gone so poorly. I just…I remember driving home and realizing then I’d been gaslit the whole time. And that’s when I knew I had to cut them off. 

FangtasticLover: That’s terrible. They deserved to be cut off from you. 

Books>People: I don’t know that they give much of a shit either way, but I know I deserve better than them. 

FangtasticLover: You do. And this half-brother? Have you met him?

Books>People: Nope. Though he’s reached out a couple of times on social media. I just don’t think I have it in me to try for a familial connection if I don’t know that it will be better than what I walked away from. Besides, I have my sister, and she gets it. 

Astarion sets his phone down and runs a hand down his face. He shouldn’t have asked her this, shouldn’t have pressed. Somehow he got exactly what he wanted, but he wishes he hadn’t. This isn’t Liv confiding in him; it’s Liv confiding in some random internet stranger that she thinks she’ll never have to look in the eyes. And somehow that bothers him, that she’s willing to tell a stranger more about herself than him. In fairness, he’s never pressed her on her family, hoping that it means she’ll avoid the subject with him too. But she shouldn’t have to. 

Still, it’s impossible not to pass this past month of living with her through the lens of this new information. Now he wonders how much of her commitment to being unobtrusive is really a personality trait and not a coping mechanism. He’s overstepped, this was a mistake. He needs to cut off contact with her on The Weave immediately. This is…he shouldn’t do this. 

Books>People: What about your family? Please tell me you have some drama to rival this. 

Well, maybe he doesn’t have to sever this connection. Maybe he just…shares too. Offers up some of his own truth. That…that ought to be good enough right? Cancel out the trust she’s placing in him. The problem is that he’s never sure how to talk about any of this. He’s been free for two years now, but he spent decades in Cazador’s power. And he hates admitting that, hates admitting who he was, what he did. He settles for the scrubbed version, the one he’s shared in the group therapy he was required to attend. It’s a version so sterilized that it hardly feels like his own story. 

FangtasticLover: Plenty. It’s…a rather long story. But suffice to say that I know about terrible parental figures. He was an abuser and a bully, and I lived in a state of constant fear, worried that one wrong move might mean a beating or much worse. The worst part was how long I stayed, I didn’t have to…I just…I didn’t have anywhere else to go. 

Books>People: I’m so sorry. No one should be treated that way. Are you safe now? 

He expects pity, but the concern surprises him. But it is so perfectly her . He remembers the night of the festival, the way she’d dismissed her friends to check in on him. He’s sure if she was here, he would see the same fierce protectiveness in her eyes. It warms something in him. 

FangtasticLover: Yes, though your concern is appreciated. 

Books>People: If it helps to talk about it, I’m always willing to listen. But I also understand if you don’t want to. 

FangtasticLover: Thank you. 

He does feel less like a piece of shit for having shared a little of his own past. So he goes about his day, working and pretending like he’s not simply waiting for Liv to come home from work so they can hang out and watch their show or do something together. He’d rather not admit how much he likes this time in the evenings, even if during the week Liv isn’t willing to stay up very late. She seems pleasantly surprised by the attention, by his insistence on her company.

Tonight, she’s in her pajamas, hair pulled up in a claw clip as she folds herself into the couch beneath a soft blanket. He sits beside her rather on the extreme end of the couch and she rolls her eyes and shares her blanket making some comment about him being too lazy to get his own. He likes the way she looks when she’s annoyed, so he regrets nothing. 

“Stop that,” she says without looking at him. 

“Stop what?” he asks. 

“I know that something huge is about to happen because you keep looking at me!” she hisses, snatching the remote from him and rewinding the last ten seconds of the show so she doesn’t miss a thing before setting it back between them. 

Astarion hadn’t even been aware he was doing that, but he turns his attention back to the show, pointedly not looking at her. Something huge is about to happen though. A character everyone believed to be dead in the first season is about to make a return. He wants to know if Liv will be as utterly shocked as he was. 

She doesn’t disappoint. Her jaw drops, her hands pointing at the T.V. then back to him and then back to the T.V. And the episode ends. “Are you kidding me? That’s it?! That’s the end of the season!? Give me the remote, we’re at least starting the next episode.”

He grabs for the remote, holding it out far away from her. “Not so fast. I had to wait six whole months for the next season, you’re suffering for at least five minutes.”

“But! That’s her brother! And oh my gods, his wife is remarried. Did he come back to life or was he never dead?!” She leans over him, attempting to steal the remote back. 

He’s not sure he’s ever been this close to her. She smells warm, like amber and a hint of citrus. She’s touching his shoulder, and he…doesn’t mind exactly, but he’s keenly aware of the contact, of the heat radiating from where her hand rests. 

And then she freezes, looking at his neck. “What happened here?” 

Oh, shit. She’s noticed the bite marks on his neck. He usually covers them up or else wears high-collared shirts and sweaters, but today he hadn’t bothered. And now she’s seen. The fight for the remote has turned into naked concern, and this is how she finds out. He’s sure of it unless he can find some way to distract her, to shift her attention elsewhere. 

Later, he will tell himself that it is the decades of habit forcing their way through. That it means nothing, that it was simply a means to an end. And he’ll believe it. Probably. 

But in the moment of sheer, blinding panic, he kisses her. 

***

It happens so suddenly, so unexpectedly that it takes her more than a mere moment to realize that Astarion is kissing her. She’s pretty sure that this is what it means to blue-screen. Astarion is her roommate, and in her head that makes him incredibly off-limits, but she’s still surprised by the surge of want that hits up against her ribcage. She knows she definitely shouldn’t, but she kisses him back anyway. Kissing him feels exactly like that one time she’d done a rope course that had ended with jumping off a high tower, only this time, she’s not sure if there’s anything slowing her fall.

His lips and hands are cool, and she shivers as his hand snakes around her waist, pulling her close so she’s suddenly straddling his waist. Somewhere, distantly, there are alarm bells going off in her brain. The last scraps of her rational mind are screaming that this is a terrible idea, but her heart is pounding and Astarion is shockingly enthusiastic. This isn’t like her…it’s impulsive and stupid and hot . And it makes her want it all the more. 

He kisses down her neck, one hand cupping her shoulder and the other hand spread wide on her bare thigh. Suddenly her pajamas, rather ordinary shorts and button-down top feel obscene for the amount of skin they give him access to. And he’s using it to his advantage; his hands are everywhere while his tongue dips into her mouth, his teeth scraping against her lips. It occurs to her, belatedly, that he is better at this than she is, the confidence radiating off of him with each brush of his fingers and touch of their lips. 

Her breath is coming in greedy swallows, gods, she’d forgotten what it felt like to feel wanted. It’s been…a while. She doesn’t really do casual, and normally she’d want to ask a lot of questions about what exactly is happening, what are they doing and what happens after. But for once, she just wants to make a poor decision. Because he’d kissed her, and he wants her, and that’s enough for right now. 

When he pulls back, she’s sure it’s because he’s somehow changed his mind or made the same calculations as she has about how utterly stupid this is. But instead, in the crimson of his eyes, there’s something like want, dark and jagged. “May I?” he asks, fingers hovering over the buttons of her shirt. 

Oh. So they’re like…really doing this. Gods. She really shouldn’t be okay with this. But then she’s nodding and his answering smile is a sharp thing, but there’s something missing. She feels as though there’s a joke here, something she hasn’t been able to quite catch. He can’t really be serious about this, can he? But he’s unbuttoning her shirt, and she can feel the jut of his hardening erection between them. 

This is real, isn’t it?

 But even as he kisses down her sternum, slowly brushing her shirt aside, there’s something…off. Perhaps it’s just that doing this with him puts her entire living situation in jeopardy. Perhaps it’s the forbidden nature of the whole thing and how much she knows she’s making a mistake. Her fingers tunnel in his hair anyway, and he makes a soft, thoughtful sound as her fingers scrape his scalp. 

And then his phone bursts into a chorus of sound. 

The spell is broken; they jump apart as if his ringing phone is a parent walking in on two teenagers in the dark. Liv finds herself pulling her gaping shirt closed as Astarion stares at the name on his phone. She catches only a first name on the screen: Wyll. 

“I have to take this.”

She nods, folding her arms across her front and covering herself with her blanket. “Of course.” Her voice comes out pitched too high, the words too fast. 

He still hasn’t answered and the phone is somehow still ringing. The look Astarion gives her is a complex one. She expects regret or apology or frustration. Instead, he looks rather relieved as he picks up the phone. 

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite erstwhile hero,” Astarion says before disappearing into his room, the door snapping shut behind him. 

The second he’s gone, Liv jumps up from the couch and sprints for her own room as if leaving the scene of the crime will erase it. What the fuck? She’s done plenty of stupid things in her life, but making out with her roommate might top the whole fucking list. She hadn’t even realized he was interested in her…she replays back the time spent together the last few weeks, and she doesn’t see any sign that he feels that way for her. So what would this have been? Just a casual hookup? 

And then there’s the complicated tangle of her own feelings. Does she like him? Clearly, her body does! Oh, gods. It doesn’t get to matter. Because he’s her roommate and even if she did like him, and she’s not admitting that she even might….she really doesn’t want to nuke her entire living situation. 

Her stomach sinks. They have to talk about this. She puts herself back together; it will almost certainly be worse if he comes out of his room to discover she’s disappeared. So once she feels as though she’s calmed down she goes back out to the couch, folding herself into the corner cushion and burying herself under a blanket. And then she pulls out her phone and scrolls without actually seeing much of anything until his door opens up. 

He’s dressed for going out. His casual clothes are gone, now he wears a dark blue sweater, his coat draped over his arm. As he exits the room, he looks at her, as if he forgot for a moment that she’s here. Well, that stings. 

“I have to go,” he says. “A friend of mine needs my help.”

Oh. So they’re not going to talk about this. Like at all. Are they? 

“Okay. Um…we’ll save the next episode for later,” she says, voice clearly unsure. 

“You can watch it without me if you want,” he says. 

And somehow, despite the fact that she had been in his lap and he had been kissing down her chest mere minutes ago, he feels further away than ever. 

“I’ll wait.”

“Alright.”

And then he strides to the door and out of the apartment. Liv collapses face-first into the couch and screams into the cushion. Why did she let that happen?!

She’s not sure if she means the kiss or everything after.

[crazylittlejester]

For the mini fica, what about modern au with the boys studying for a test? Let us suffer together even in this

This one’s not at all inspired by an actual event that happened earlier this week, why would you think that haha (finals are beating my ass)

Here you go!! (389 words):

“Are you…? Are you watchin’ fucking youtube right now?” Twilight stared at him in horror, and Sky just looked back at him with tears in his eyes.

“I need a break…”

Warriors was sitting at the end of the table, banging his head into his textbook. “I can’t do it anymore, guys.”

Final exams were always rough, but for some reason they were really struggling this year, which felt so unfair because of how close they were to graduation. Sky was so tired, he’d pulled an all nighter trying to study for this morning’s exam, and now here he was with his best friends at their study group. It was a tradition that had started after the three of them met first semester freshman year in a stats class.

“C’mon Wars,” Twilight shook his arm gently to get him to raise his head. “You got this buddy.”

“You have to kill me,” Warriors whined, letting his face slam back down into his book. “Mercy kill.”

Sky looked up at the ceiling, only half paying attention to the audio of the video he was watching. It sucked when he was so tired he couldn’t even enjoy the thing he was trying to do as a break.

“I ain’t killing ya, and I ain’t graduatin’ without your ass, so pull yourself together,” Twilight grumbled, poking the top of Warrior’s head.

“We should run away into the woods,” Sky huffed, closing his laptop.

“I second that,” Warriors threw a lazy arm into the air. “Hylia, I’m so tired I think I could fall asleep right here.”

“And whose fault is it that you decided to take eight classes this semester??” Sky asked him.

His friend raised his head from his textbook and shot him a glare. “Four of them were one credit.”

“Ouch,” Twilight shook his head. “Okay, we’re not even gettin’ work done. Break time.”

“Oh thank Hylia!” Warriors sighed, getting up to shove his things in his bag. “I need to go walk around so badly.”

Sky wasn’t going to argue, so he packed his things up as well, throwing his headphones back in his bag and following after his friends as they headed to the small coffee shop just off campus. They were so close to freedom he could almost taste it. Just one more week. One more week….

[hauntedparadisebandana]

Thinking about Desmond and the gang in a modern au😋

Desmond successfully secured a job at a local coffee shop in town, it has relatively nice pay, easy to do, and he needed a distraction between his classes. Yet besides the rush hour or lunch, he has nothing to do, really. Luckily today was the day the supervisor watched the work in the shop (he despises these days), so he has to run around acting like he's actually getting work done for three hours.

He swept the floor three times, mopped twice, and reorganized the already organized creamers and sugars. Every time he finished a task, the supervisor would nod to him with a smile and walk off to hover he other co-workers. Finally it was his break, he pulled out a sandwich and sat at a table in the back near the far window, while eating his very dry turkey and cheese (he didn't add mayo because he forgot to buy some more) he got a text.

Group of idiots

*Becca* 10:00

>what time are u guys done with classes today????

>let's get food!😋

*Lulu* 10:01

>well I don't get out of class until 11, and I really need to catch up on work Bec.

*Stickintheass* 10:03

>rebecca, unlike you, some people have work to do. I have to finish my paper tonight.

*Becca* 10:05

>booooo, u guys are no fun. Des?🙏🏽

>don't leave me hanging😢

Desmond let out a chuckle before replying

*Dessyboy* 10:07

>I wish, but I'm stuck at work till 12😔

*Becca* 10:08

>UGHHHH I can't believe u guys😩

>wait I got an idea

>what about a study date kinda thing?

*Stickintheass* 10:08

>Absolutely not. Every time we do a "study date," you always end up distracting me and I get no work done. Plus you don't even study.

*Becca* 10:09

>I swear I'll do work the time, pinky promiseeeeee.

*Stickintheass* 10:10

>😮‍💨

*Becca* 10:11

>So is that a yessss?????

*Stickintheass* 10:12

>fine. I'll go.

*Becca* 10:12

>YAYYY

>Lu we'll meet up with u at 11 and then we'll go to des's job to mess with him until he's off work.

*Lulu* 10:14

>👍👍👍

>I gtg, talk later

*Dessyboy* 10:15

>hey I didn't agree yet

*Shaun* 10:16

>you don't have too, you're going. If I have to suffer, you have to too. Plus, I don't think Rebecca will let you off the hook.

*Dessyboy* 10:16

>ok🥲

Sighing, he threw away his trash and got back to doing the same thing over and over again until his friends arrived. While fake sweeping for what felt like the 50th time, the bell above the door jingled, and in walked Shaun, Rebecca, and Lucy. Rebecca waved with much enthusiasm while Shaun rolled his eyes. Lucy chuckled and shook her head at the two, they always irritate eachother, despite living together and studying the same field.

They sit at a booth and talk amongst themselves quietly as Desmond walks over.

"Hey guys, how's your life besides mine?"

Rebecca chuckled "yo des, im great actually, why do you make it seem like you're in hell right now?"

"Because I am. I've been repeating the same tasks for 3 hours trying to make it seem like I'm actually doing something."

"Well dont worry, you'll be off soon. It's only 30 more minutes." Shaun states.

And like Shaun said, the 30 minutes seemed to fly by. He was soon hanging his apron in his locker, grabbing his bag, and leaving the employees' only room.

"Finally free from hell guys, so where are we going?" He adjusts him backpack straps.

"Ummmm we haven't actually established that yet. What about the little Ceasars a few blocks down?"

Shaun groaned "Rebecca we ate there last week."

"It won't hurt to eat there again. It's pizza of course. Oh and let's walk, the fall weather is nice at this time."

The group left the coffee shop and started the walk to the local little Cesars they eat at every other week. None of them actually want to eat there, but it's cheap, and they haven't done any grocery shopping yet. Upon walking in, the group gets hit with the smell of fresh pizza. Desmonds stomach growls as a reaction, all he had was that dry turkey sandwich way earlier in his shift, so he was practically starving.

Once more, they pick a booth big enough to fit them all. Ordering a large pepperoni, they chow down on it while "studying" (writing down things and forgetting about it).

"Sooooo how's classes going for you guys?" Lucy questions to break the silence of them stuffing pizza in their faces.

Desmond is quick to complain, "Ugh, don't even get me started on my professor, biggest asshole on the planet. On top of that, I have a final due soon."

"Sucks to be you, my friend. Me on the other, I completed my final yesterday so I am free from the pain and suffering of work and worries." Rebecca laughs

"Whateverrr."

Shaun glances down at his watch, sighing upon seeing the time. "I'll have to make my leave soon. After noon classes."

"Seriously? But we just got here!"

"Rebecca, it's been two hours. Plus, you weren't studying anyway, and we have the same class to attend idiot."

"Ah. Right," she rubs the back of her neck sheepishly.

"I'll leave with you guys," Lucy quips. "I to have afternoon classes."

Desmond sighs at this, giving all his friends a hug before they are off to class again, leaving him bored.

"Bye guys...."

"Desmond, stop making that face, we're literally all roommates. We'll see you later tonight." Rebecca pinches his cheek and runs after Shaun and Lucy, who are already in the car.

Group of idiots

*Dessyboy* 2:03

>it was fun being able to hang out again😿

*Stickintheass* 2:04

>God stop with the dramatics, we'll see you later.

*Dessyboy* 2:04

>but still, I'm bored now

*Lulu* 2:05

>des, there is plenty to do around here. And why are you texting us already, we just left.

*Dessyboy* 2:05

>😮‍💨

>fine

*Becca* 2:06

>all love dessy😚

*Dessyboy* 2:07

>love you guys too

>oh by the way, can someone please go to the store later and pick up some mayo?

>....

>guys???

>Lu? Becca? Shaun?

>guys please I'm tired of eating a dry turkey and cheese for lunch 😭

[hetalia-club]

Today at the coffee shop AU in which I live in:

I accidently told a customer "I love you, bye" on the phone today worst part? He awkwardly said it back. Was going to apologize and walk it back but he was so quick back with the "love you to" It would have been more uncomfy to be like "Psych!" He said nothing when he came to pick up his latte. But we held eye contact and I think he knew it was me. Thank god he said nothing.

Also our iPad go stuck and instead of going down our play list on Spotify it instead played Footloose on repeat for 3 1/2 hours today because we were too busy to go upstairs and turn it off, until eventually a customer who had been in there since open and had been working on his laptop was like. "Why is it still Footloose!?" And I gave him directions and sent him up stairs to rip out the aux cord out of the sound system and end our suffering. I listened to footloose on my way home, didn't mind the loop, the songs slaps.

[t00nyah]

so. i was very bored. and on character ai there's an alternate timeline ai that can come up with things that could happen and such. so i was like. okay let's go wild let's make an au were octarians won the great turf war. so there it is, an au created with ai deciding what would change in characters' lives, what would they end up doing, and, of course, me finilazing it with my headcanons and adding some flavour to some of ideas.

so. yep. octarians won, and, just like in original series, the losing side, inklings, are living in the domes. in my head they still have the great zapfish, while octarians go into a more sci-fi direction and make their own power sources. inklings are...kind of almost erased from their history. i don't know why it clicked in my head, it just did, maybe there's a better way to implement things, okay. x)

onto the characters...

callie and marie didn't form a duet without contest and end up having the most ordinary jobs. i know, right?

callie is a teacher and marie is a journalist! i personally really loved callie as a teacher and i'm just. yeah. marie. you know. marie had me suffering.

i would have design notes here but there's not much to tell so if there's something catching your eye that you think might mean something - it probably does. idk.

i took pearl's money. that's right. now she's forced to work as barista. by me. i want you to know that it was VERY hard to decide what would pearl do now that i stole her money but holy fuck coffee shop aus got to me. (i'm also very proud of the logo i came up with hehe)

alright. so. there's a hard one. and by that i mean in my headcanons three's family is ... one of those traditional families ... you know what i mean. so... here goes kaori, using she/her and having a big identity crisis she's not really able to solve. a little hard when you're not so sure what to make out of it and don't know if you can tell anyone how you feel. kaori does not like when adults make the distinction between girl things and boy things, she's not that into skirts honestly, she's just wearing it to please her parents. kaori is studying to become a scientist to work on improving life in the domes. that's good, right?

speaking of scientists, of course there's an extraordinary - marina ida. we all know marina, she's too smart for all of us. she's helping in multiple researches and is very widely known. (and also gets lots of MONEY for that). *re-reads ai's entry on marina and looks away* UMM okay i totally forgot that part where she's also a professor in university. WELL NOW I KNOW the context to something else. maybe.

so, eight... nana in this au *looks at coroika*, is a student (idk, highschool maybe...i dunno i dunno i think i messed up) who got a bit carried away with a project. and started her research on inklings, because there's a theory going among the historians that the inklings still do exist... so nana, as a very passionate when she has interest octoling, goes to explore on her own! she gets into the domes and meets kaori eventually, who's...got a good eye on weird features and recognises nana as an octoling. not exactly friendly at first, but what can a squid like her do anyways?

eventually they kinda get stuck along because nana wants to KNOW. kaori just desides to go against her better judgement and give her a tour. and leads her to the best coffee shop she knows. they bond with each other eventually and become friends :) and nana works hard to get heard and get inklings to surface somehow maybe, though it doesn't seem like they want it THAT much? i mean, they're established their society already, why would they? they be chillin'. (but yes kaori gets to see the surface FOR SURE.)

i REALLY didn't want to leave four alone on her introductory pic poor lonely squid</3 so there she is! surume, that one school student who's drawing on each lesson(me). she's also *looks at ai's statement* is popular on social media for her art.

she doesn't really meet kaori that often, but when their class goes to see a college where kaori studies, you know, to show their possibilities, where they could go after school or something like that, so they sort of...know of each other? very awkwardly and formally have met each other? kaori will probably die of embarassment when sees surume again because thinks she made a bad impression? lol!

if you follow me you may have noticed that i'm projecting my gender crisis on three hard and usually the one they're consulting with is four... and it stays true to this au, i really want kaori to talk things out and, ay, it's way easier to open up to a stranger sometimes. so yeah. i think it will happen in my au. surume explaining kaori all the stuff about gender identity and sexuality because there's a little more of society pressure in this au... they'll get there eventually.

bonus: ref for marina in her regular clothing! she's so pretty...

another bonus: marina meeting a pretty barista...

so yeah. yeah. marina gets into the domes because nana has caught her interest with her project, so she meets pearl. because if pearlina doesn't happen the universe will explode and we all know that.

also there were doodles i made on our first wbf that you now know the context for :]

thank you for reading this far! it was... a long one... yep. i also really want to thank everyone who's following me fr fr i'm very happy to get feedback and to know that you enjoy my art! love ya'll<3 /p

separate versions under cut

[fukanouna]

Pour me a cup of your attention

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Barista!WandaNat AU where Natasha is tasked to teach the new girl (Wanda) how to prepare coffee. She was supposed to teach the brunette things like how to make a latte or to tell the difference between pour-over coffee and americanos; she was not supposed be a gay mess and fall for Wanda in the process.

Chapter Word Count: 5490

---

Once again, Nick failed to inform Natasha that she would be training a new hire during her Saturday shift.

The moment she walked into the coffee stop with her barista apron hanging from her arm, Steve approached her with an ominously perfect boy scout-like smile that made her internally groan and prepare for the worse. "Alright, don't give me any bullshit. What did I walk into today?"

"Got a new budding barista in the back for you," Steve beamed as he playfully patted Natasha on the shoulder. She wasn't sure if the gesture was supposed to come off as encouraging or give off an "I'm-sorry-you-have-to-suffer-today" kind of energy. When Natasha continued to wear an unamused, deadpanned expression, Steve continued. "If you really don't want to train the new hire, you can be the shift supervisor in my stead, and I'll be the trainer."

"God, no!" Natasha quickly snapped. While she wasn't too keen training someone today (she wanted to practice latte art with soy milk during her down time), she'd rather be a trainer than have to run the shift. Too much responsibility when she was not in the mood. Releasing a resigned sigh, Natasha grumbled. "Fine, fine. I'll train them."

"Great!" Steve's already massive smile somehow grew wider and that same smile turned playful. "I think you're going to like her. She's pretty cute. Definitely your type."

"Eye candy isn't going to make the shift bearable, Rogers," Natasha huffed irritably and strode past him.

It was an unspoken ritual that Natasha came to the shop at least fifteen minutes early to grab and down a shot of espresso. It helped her wake up and mentally prepare herself for her shift. Seeing as her role for the day was going to require extra focus and a professional facade, she asked Steven, who was on espresso bar at the moment, for two shots of espresso topped with a dollop of whipped cream.

"You usually only ask for a single shot. Already preparing for the worst, Romanoff?" Steven questioned with an amused brow as he handed Natasha her small cup of espresso.

"Don't judge me, Strange. After the mess I had to deal with when I had to train that Parker kid, you can't blame me," Natasha grumbled then instantly downed her coffee and tossed her cup into the closest trash can. She greeted Sharon, who was in the process of grinding coffee beans to prepare tomorrow's batch of cold brew, and waved at Sam, who was helping a customer at the register, then took a deep breath as she headed to the back to meet the new hire.

The moment Natasha locked eyes with bright bluish eyes, she was fucked.

Steve wasn't joking, the girl was cute - extremely cute.

It took an incredible amount of effort for Natasha to keep a straight face and ignore the annoyingly smug look Steve was throwing her from behind the girl. "You must be the one Steve mentioned. I'm Natasha," she introduced smoothly and extended her hand. The girl's' hand felt smooth and soft, and god, those eyes were way too mesmerizing.

"Hello, Natasha. It's nice to meet you. I'm Wanda. I'm very new and very clueless when it comes to coffee as I'm not much of a coffee person," Wanda admitted with a soft chuckle.

"Is that so? Why apply to a coffee shop then?" the redhead questioned.

"I've applied to a bunch of other part-time positions, but this was the only place to accept me without any previous experience. Besides, getting free chai tea lattes and London Fogs are really good perks," Wanda explained with a grin Natasha couldn't help but find incredibly adorable.

It's been barely five minutes since I've met this girl and I'm already a mess, Natasha internally groaned.

"I've already finalized her paperwork in the system and gave her a new apron so she's all yours, Nat," Steve beamed and subtly winked at Natasha. God, she really wanted to punch him and his perfect teeth.

"Thank you, Rogers," Natasha forced out a smile and glared daggers at the blonde. Fortunately, Wanda didn't seem to notice the playful animosity she was throwing at Steve and turned her full attention to her.

"I'm ready to be a barista," Wanda declared confidently after putting on her apron and took a step closer to Natasha.

Natasha tried not to think about the minimal space between her and the new girl, then motioned with a hand for Wanda to follow her out onto the floor. As they turned the corner, Natasha quickly threw up her middle finger at Steve.

---

She led Wanda to the back corner of the store where an extra espresso bar was set up. It was typically used for training purposes or for baristas to practice their latte art, but during busy hours, it was actively used to cut wait times. While the espresso bar was turning on, Natasha showed Wanda how to prepare pour-over coffee and how to use the French press, then poured sample cups of different roasts for her to sip. It was important for Wanda to be at least familiar with all the different tastes and flavor notes if she had to recommend a roast to a customer.

Although Wanda was vocal about her distaste for coffee, she willingly tried every roast Natasha poured her. While Natasha preferred darker roasts, she was surprised when Wanda picked the lighter beans as her preferred roast since the flavor wasn't too heavy on the tongue.

Once they switched over to tasting espresso, Natasha was secretly eager in seeing the brunette's reaction to tasting the concentrated drops of coffee. Wanda's reactions did not disappoint. Wanda's face scrunched in disgust when she sipped the bold-flavored espresso, but when Natasha forced her to try a dead espresso shot, the other woman physically recoiled backwards, completely repulsed by the taste.

"That's what oxidation does to espresso if you let it sit out for too long without milk. It becomes extremely bitter, and it almost has this burnt taste feeling on your tongue," Natasha continued to explain, holding back her laughter as Wanda's face was still contorted in disgust.

"Please tell me that's the last of the coffee I have to try."

"For now. You'll tackle iced coffees and cold brews another day, otherwise, you might actually get heart palpitations from all the caffeine you're drinking."

It was a breath of fresh air for Natasha when the first day of training with Wanda wrapped up smoothly, even a little earlier than anticipated. The brunette was a quick learner. There was a systematic flow when it came to making lattes back-to-back, and Wanda was able to make three basic lattes faster than some of the veteran baristas by the end of her training. Hell, Wanda's foam for her first cappuccino was impressive considering it was a first attempt. Natasha was impressed.

Natasha made herself a flat white and a soy Chai tea latte for Wanda in the shop's ceramic mugs before they went to the back for a break.

"Great job today," Natasha complimented. "You've completed all of your Day One training ahead of schedule. If you want to head out early, you can. You'll get paid for the full training hours."

Wanda took a sip of her Chai, letting out a satisfied hum from the taste. "What can I expect for tomorrow's training?"

"Cold coffees, tea lattes, and non-caffeinated drinks like the various kinds of hot chocolates we offer. The thing is, I'm off tomorrow so you'll have someone else train you for Day Two," Natasha smiled apologetically. For once in her life, Natasha wished she didn't have Sundays off.

"I'm sad to hear. I enjoyed having you train me," Wanda confessed and gave Natasha a smile. "You explain things very well in ways that’s easy to understand."

"Considering there have been times I've had to repeat the same step several times to some trainees, maybe it's actually all you. You're a quick learner," Natasha chuckled. She noted that Wanda seemed embarrassed by the praise. Cute.

"When will be the next time I see you?"

The redhead pursed her lips. "Well, I'm here for mornings on weekdays since that's when we're the busiest because of people going to work or college classes, and then for Saturdays I'm either in the morning or I start at noon. Usually depends on where Fury puts me. What's your schedule like?"

"The semester at HYDRA State University starts next week. I put my availability for weekend mornings and Tuesday and Thursday evenings."

“I guess that means we’ll only see each other on Saturdays,” Natasha chuckled under her breath to mask her disappointment. She really enjoyed Wanda’s company. The universe must hate her or something if she was only allowed to talk to the breathtakingly beautiful brunette once a week.

Wanda let out a thoughtful-sounding hum as she took another sip of her latte. Then she turned her gaze back to Natasha and grinned. “Then I guess I’m going to start looking forward to Saturdays now.”

Natasha blinked several times, her mind still trying to process what she just heard (though it was difficult because she was also distracted by the way Wanda was smiling at her), eventually opting to take a sip of her flat white to try and hide her smile.

—

Two weeks passed since Natasha last saw Wanda.

Typically, Natasha was not the kind of person to call out from her shifts, no matter how foul of a mood she was in, but Liho threw up multiple times last Saturday morning, and Natasha wasted no time rushing her cat to the vet, resulting in her having to call out. She was relieved when the veterinarian confirmed that Liho would be fine, catching some sort of stomach bug, and prescribed Natasha antibiotics to administer to Liho.

Now it was the following Saturday, and Natasha was doing her best to focus on making drinks and ignore the clock hanging on the wall to her left. The moment she clocked in for her shift, she checked the day’s schedule and saw that Wanda would come in two hours later. It was honestly ridiculous how something so small as knowing when Wanda started her shift gave her the energy she needed to not give a fuck about the usual crowd of teenagers and middle-aged women bitching about how their frappuccinos don't have enough caramel drizzle around the cup and do her job without stress.

When Natasha heard the door open and realized it was a brunette from her peripheral, she immediately knew who it was. Her eyes locked with Wanda's and gave the younger a quick smile and a nod of acknowledgement before turning her focus back on the flat white she was making. Natasha forced herself to ignore the oncoming footsteps and the sweet scent of strawberries wafting into her nostrils while she slow-poured the pitcher of steamed milk into a ceramic cup.

"Hello, Natasha. Long time no see," Wanda greeted with a smile. "I hope your cat is doing better."

"Liho is recovering fine, thanks for asking." Natasha rinsed the pitcher then capped the flat white, briefly leaving Wanda's side to call out to the customer, then returned to where she stood. "How's it been adjusting to the life of a barista?"

"Pretty well, I think. I can make almost all the hot drinks."

"Which ones are you having trouble with?

Wanda scrunched her nose. "Cappuccinos and flat whites. I'm jealous at how you made that flat white look so easy. My foam for cappuccinos look… passable, but they don't look as pretty as others."

"Those take practice to make. I can teach you a few tips to make that journey to mastery easier," Natasha offered. She bit back a smile when Wanda's eyes lit up.

"Would you really?"

"Of course. But how about you clock in first? You're already five minutes late," Natasha said while pointing to the clock, snickering when Wanda cursed under her breath.

"I was so excited to see you that I completely forgot!" Wanda blurted out and shuffled away to the back.

Natasha felt her chest swell happily at what Wanda just said, biting back a smile once again, and tried to ignore that growing feeling by picking up a sanitized rag and wiping the area around the espresso bar till it was clean.

---

She didn't look like it but Natasha was the type of person who always made an effort to be punctual for work. If she was ever late, it was due to factors she couldn't control like if there was an accident on the way to work.

This Monday morning, Tony called her the moment she sat in her car asking her for a favor. Apparently, their shipment of toilet paper and hand soap didn't come in the night before, and there was no doubt the store would run out before noon. Natasha didn't mind taking a quick detour before going in for work and told Tony she'd get the supplies.

What Natasha didn't expect going into work today was Wanda stationed at the espresso bar. She recalled Wanda had classes weekday mornings, and while the mere sight of the brunette made her heart skip a beat, Natasha was also confused. Her mood immediately soured when she realized some guy was yelling at Wanda over the counter.

Natasha set down the bathroom supplies on the back counter and quickly made her way over to the bar. "Sir, may I ask what is the problem that you had to resort to raising your voice at our barista?" she intervened with icy calmness as she stared him down.

"The problem is that your barista is too slow at making the drinks! She's taking too long!" he complained and directed his obnoxious voice towards to Natasha. "My kids are going to be late for school!"

Natasha has heard this excuse before and she internally sighed while forcing to keep her customer-service-voice intact. "Sir, with all due respect, we are not responsible for your children's attendance."

"That's—“

"It is almost 8am on a Monday morning. You made the conscious decision to prioritize grabbing a cup of coffee during a morning rush at our shop instead of taking your children to school," Natasha cut him off sharply, glaring him down as she motioned to the other customers standing around the man. "These people also have places to be, but they are patiently waiting for their order."

Natasha felt goosebumps on the back of her neck when she felt a shaky hand from Wanda slide into hers. She gave the brunette's hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze back. "You are not helping yourself, or anyone for that matter, by yelling at our barista to work faster."

The man's face was red from the neck up as there were murmuring coming from the people behind him. "Then what would you have me do?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"You still have your receipt, right? If you leave now and take your kids to school, come back to our shop any time today and we'll make your drinks for you then. I'll leave a note to the other baristas working today so they know. Or you can get a refund for your order. Your choice," Natasha compromised with crossed arms. Truthfully, she wanted to kick him out for yelling at Wanda, but she needed to push her personal bias aside and try to be the better person, for the shop's image or whatever as Nick put it.

After several moments later, the man eventually chose to come back later for his order. Once he was gone, Natasha stood in front of the espresso bar and immediately began prepping the next order's drink. "I got this, Wanda. You go take your ten," she said while steaming a pitcher of almond milk.

"But Natasha… I feel bad for leaving you with so many drinks to make," Wanda mumbled softly.

"It's fine. I got this." Natasha paused to study Wanda closely. "You were shaken up." She reached out to gently rub at Wanda's upper arm, smiling sympathetically. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. He was an asshole."

"But Natasha…" Wanda said again but with less firmness than before. "I still feel bad regardless. I picked up Carol's shift, thinking I could handle a morning shift since my morning class was canceled, and yet…"

Natasha hated that Wanda was close to crying. She remembered the feeling of being yelled at by a customer for the first time when she was starting out. “It’s shitty, but he’ll probably be one of many customers who’ll take their anger out on you,” she said honestly while capping the almond milk latte and handing it out to the customer. “But know when it’s not your fault. Like I said to him, we’re not responsible for his kids, and no one else had an issue about your coffee-making pace, right?”

“No…” Wanda confirmed with a slow nod. Natasha smiled when she saw that Wanda looked more relaxed.

“Then you did nothing wrong," she said with finality then began working on the next drink in the queue. "If you could take those supplies to the back and restock the bathrooms before your ten, I'd appreciate it."

Wanda swiftly nodded. "Of course." She fidgeted with her silver ring on her index finger. "Um, would you be free after your shift today?"

Natasha quirked up an eyebrow at Wanda while she pumped hazelnut syrup into the latte.

"I know this really good local dim sum spot. My brother and I went there a lot when we were in high school, so the owners know me, and I don't have class till late afternoon, and it's the least I can do so…"

"Maximoff, are you asking me out on a date in the middle of rush hour?" Natasha teased with a crooked grin. Her grin widened when Wanda fidgeted even more.

"I… I just… think you'd really enjoy the food," Wanda mumbled.

Natasha chuckled. "Sure, I'm down. I don't have any plans today. Dim sum sounds great."

Wanda immediately perked and flashed a beaming smile at her. "Great! I'll, um, go do my task now."

From her peripheral, Natasha watched Wanda shuffle to grab a couple of toilet rolls from the pack and a bottle of hand soap before heading to the lobby bathrooms.

She tried her best to focus on making the peppermint mocha in front of her, but she was too focused on the fact Wanda didn't deny that she was trying to ask Natasha out on a date.

---

After weeks of subtle flirting while working Saturdays together and the occasional invitations to grab food weekday nights, Natasha was almost sure there was something between her and Wanda. 

Normally, Natasha admitted she could be clueless when it came to noticing people hitting on her, especially girls, but the entire store could "see the chemistry" between her and Wanda, as Tony put it so loudly one afternoon shift. Carol would nudge her side whenever Wanda walked into the store, Peter would instantly leave the break room the moment Wanda walked in to join her, and even Steven Strange, who displayed little to no emotions normally, was finding amusement in their interactions behind bar.

Still, Natasha never made any move to jump over that final hurdle because there was a boundary. She was a shift supervisor and Wanda was a part-time barista. Someone of her position wasn't allowed to date someone of a lower position due to power imbalance. Nick had a soft spot for her, but he would have no choice but to step in if he caught on. The most likely scenario would be he'd transfer her to a different location. It would suck ass because Natasha genuinely enjoyed the team she had here at this location, but it would be a much better alternative in comparison to the worst-case scenario: Wanda would have to be let go. It's what happened to Laura after Nick discovered Clint was dating her. In the end, Clint quit too.

Natasha decided that the way things were currently were for the best.

---

While Natasha was taking a year off from university, her sister, Yelena, was still a full-time student and in the middle of studying for a major exam for her class in child psychology. Yelena lamented to her that she'd be pulling an all-nighter, so Natasha decided to drive back to the coffee that night to stop and grab a jug of cold brew for her sister. It was a win-win situation because Natasha knew Wanda was working tonight.

Natasha pushed through the familiar coffee shop doors and a broad grin curved on her face at the sight of Wong. "Hey, stranger. Long time no see. How was Hong Kong?"

"Right back at you, Nat," Wong laughed and stood in front of the register. "It was a lot fun since it had been years since I went back. My family fed me well. It's good to be back though. I'm guess you're here because of Yelena?"

"You know me so well. She's currently dying from studying as we speak," she chuckled while pulling out her credit card. "The usual cold brew jug for her and a decaf flat white for me. Throw in a scone too, but it doesn't need to be warmed."

"You got it," Wong confirmed with a nod and entered in her order. "Send my regards to Yelena and tell her not to study too hard."

Natasha gave him an amused look and slid her card into the reader. "Will do, but no promises. You know how she is."

"That I do."

Natasha looked up and saw Wanda emerging from the back with a couple cartons of oat milk in arms. The moment Wanda made eye contact with her, she immediately burst out in a full-blown smile. "Why hello there."

"Hey, you," Natasha coolly acknowledged with a smirk and slipped her card back into her wallet. She didn't miss the way Wong looked at them with a cheeky glance before heading to the back for Yelena's jug. God, she must be so obvious.

After placing the oat milk into the fridge below the espresso bar, Wanda ripped off Natasha's order receipt from the printer and skimmed it. "A jug of cold brew and a decaf flat white."

"The former is for my sister. She needs the fuel because she'll be pulling an all-nighter."

Wanda pursed her lips thoughtfully and poured whole milk into the pitcher. "I'm familiar with that pain. I wish her well. I'll get started on your flat white since Wong is already preparing your jug."

"Take your time. Thanks, Wanda."

Natasha felt her body instinctively hold her breath when Wanda's beautiful blue eyes met hers with an almost playful glint.

"Of course, Natasha."

She shivered at the way her name rolled off Wanda's tongue.

Minutes later Wanda finished her drink and placed the cup in the hand-off area. When Natasha glanced down at her coffee, there was heart-shaped latte art. Her gaze shifted to Wanda's to find the brunette grinning at her. "Impressed?" Wanda asked. "I've been practicing."

"It shows. This heart is beautiful," Natasha praised as she capped her cup. "Shame I'll have to ruin it after the first sip."

"As long as you don't ruin the real thing."

Natasha felt her heart thud against her ribcage, exhaling slowly. "Wanda…"

Wanda didn't look away. "Yes?"

"I—"

"Here's your jug, Nat!"

Natasha's shoulders relaxed when Wong came up from behind Wanda and slid over the jug of cold brew to her. "Thanks again, Wong."

"Not a problem. Take care." Wong waved and headed back to the register to help another customer.

"Have a good night, Wanda," she murmured.

"You too, Natasha," Wanda whispered softly. "You too."

---

After handing off the cold brew and scone to Yelena, Natasha went to her room to leave her sister in peace. She had her smart TV placed on a low table so she could comfortably watch on her giant bean bag chair, though at the moment, she was mindlessly scrolling through her list of saved shows to watch on Netflix. Natasha figured she should be more productive, but her earlier conversation with Wanda refused to leave her mind. She never expected the other girl to be so forward when they first met. It was becoming more and more difficult to control herself.

Natasha felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and tugged it out. When she realized it was a text from Wanda, she swallowed. "Speak of the devil," she muttered to herself and opened the message.

Hey!

I know this is sudden, but do you think you could give me a ride home?

My brother failed to tell me that his car is in the shop till tomorrow so he can't pick me up.

If you can't, that's fine. I can call an Uber.

you don't need to get an uber

give me 20min and i'll be there

---

When Natasha returned to the coffee shop, Wanda was standing in front of the closed store with Wong.

"Sorry for taking so long. I kept hitting every damn red light," Natasha huffed in annoyance as pushed her car door shut and made her way to her friends.

"Not to worry. We weren't waiting long," Wong insisted with a laugh.

"Wong was kind enough to wait with me till you arrived," Wanda explained to her then turned to Wong. "Thank you again."

"It's no trouble at all, Wanda," Wong said with a slight bow of the head. "It wouldn't be safe for you to be standing out here all by yourself. Get home safe, ladies."

Natasha gave Wong a fist bump then unlocked her car for Wanda. The brunette placed her tote bag in the backseats before she joined Natasha in the front. Once they were both buckled in, they both gave Wong one last wave and drove out of the coffee shop's parking lot.

Wanda's house was a fifteen minute drive at most from their workplace (assuming Natasha didn't hit every light again). There were times she had to take her home after they bought some deliciously cheap Chinese takeout together or grabbed some authentic Italian gelato, so she knew the way to Wanda's place by heart at this point. But this night ride felt longer than usual. Wanda was quiet, answering Natasha's attempts at striking a conversation with tiny smiles and hums, sometimes a nod. She wondered if their earlier conversation was still on the brunette's mind, but she wasn't sure if it was the right time to bring it up again. At the very least, Wanda wasn't upset at her, given that she still looked at Natasha with a smile. It was kind of crazy how the sight of Wanda simply smiling at her made Natasha feel comforted. No words were needed.

The drive reached its end when Natasha parked against the curb of Maximoff's driveway. She shut off the engine and shifted to face the other girl. "There ya go, Miss Maximoff. Home sweet home."

"Thank you again for driving me home," Wanda said as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

"Anytime. Have a good night, Wanda." Natasha raised an eyebrow when Wanda remained where she was, biting down on her lower lip while wearing a contemplative expression. "What's up?" she gently prodded. Natasha's breath hitched in her throat when Wanda placed her hand over Natasha's that was gripping the gearshift "Wanda?" she breathed out more softly.

Wanda leaned in closer over the armrest compartment between them. In the cramped space of her car, Natasha was hyper-aware of Wanda more than ever and the charged atmosphere and hung around them. She should have moved away, she really should have, but Natasha was frozen by those captivating blue eyes she could fall into forever, shuddering when Wanda moved her hand from the gearshift, up Natasha's arm, to the back of Natasha's neck, coming closer.

"Wanda," she said again, more quietly, more weakly than before.

"Is this okay?" Wanda whispered, but to Natasha's ears, it almost sounded like the younger was pleading to her. And Natasha knew what she was really asking - there was no denying the tension between them anymore. The rational part of her brain knew it was a bad idea to jump over that final hurdle, but her heart couldn't take the sound of Wanda's voice, so soft and uncertain, and didn't want to push her away any longer.

"Yeah… it's more than okay," Natasha answered back and kissed Wanda.

Natasha often daydreamed what it was like to kiss Wanda. She imagined it'd be gentle and slow with a hint of cherries like that one Katy Perry song. Instead, their kiss tasted fruity in a herbal tea kind of way, and while Wanda's kisses were initially gentle, she craved Natasha's lips more than oxygen. Natasha reveled in the whimpering noises Wanda made when she suckled on the brunette's lower lip, then pushed her tongue into her mouth so their tongues met in desperate, messy kiss that stemmed from weeks of repressed tension. Natasha's mind was reeling in a way that reminded her of the way she felt when she was tipsy, but in this case she was intoxicated by Wanda, and she damn wished she could feel this way all the time.

"Sestra! I baked extra pečené buchty and Mama said to give it to your friend as thanks and— WHOA!"

Wanda pushed Natasha away and snapped her head in the direction of the voice.

"PIETRO!" Wanda hissed from inside the car. This was the first time Natasha's seen Wanda's twin brother, and she should be flustered he caught them making out, but she's oddly attracted to a pissed-off Wanda.

"Sorry, sorry! I was just trying to give you pastries!" Pietro bowed his head excessively but his eyes were twinkling in amusement. Wanda huffed and got out of the car to take the brown bag of bread from him. "Thank you for accepting my delivery. You and your girlfriend can continue~"

"Go!" Wanda hissed again and Pietro happily jogged off back into the house, but not before giving Wanda a thumbs up. With a sigh, Wanda slipped back into the passenger seat, clearing her throat with flustered cheeks. "Um, I'm sorry about my brother…"

"It's okay. Kinda should've realized it was risky doing it right outside your house," Natasha chuckled. A pleasant, sweet aroma wafted into her nose and she eyed the bag. "Those smell really good. Are they really for me?"

"If Pietro said so, then yes. He's been into baking recently. Which is strange considering how impatient he is." Wanda cleared her throat again, gazing turning meek when her eyes met Natasha's. "About before…"

"I don't regret it if that's what you're about to ask," Natasha cut in. "I've been wanting to kiss you for awhile now, if it wasn't already obvious. It's just… difficult with my position at work."

"I'm open to the idea of keeping our relationship a secret. I know how much you love working at the coffee shop and wouldn't want to jeopardize that," Wanda hummed quietly as she played with Natasha's fingers. "I know we can make time to see each other outside of work, but I also treasure our time together on Saturdays.

Natasha could feel the butterflies in her stomach fluttering around happily as their fingers intertwined. "Secret but official?"

"Secret but official," Wanda agreed and pressed a kiss to Natasha's cheek. "I should go. My twin senses are telling me Pietro is watching us through a window. I'll see you on Saturday."

Natasha brought the brunette's fingers to her lips and kissed each one of them. "Can I see you Friday night instead?"

"Are you asking me out on a date, Natasha Romanoff?" Wanda teased, head tilted to one side, giggling softly at the gesture.

Natasha recalled the way she teased Wanda with the same question weeks ago, but this time they were both serious. "I am. I can't wait till Saturday morning to see you."

Wanda gave her a shy smile. "Then you will see me Friday night. Goodnight, Natasha."

Natasha smiled back.

"Goodnight, Wanda."

She reluctantly watched Wanda exit her car and made her way back to her doorstep. Wanda looked back at her when she stepped inside her house, neither looking away, until Wanda finally closed the door shut.

Natasha sighed happily and slumped in her seat. She placed two fingers on her lips, still tingling from the feeling of Wanda's lips on hers, still somewhat in disbelief that they really kissed. She wasn't sure how difficult it was going to be to hide their relationship at work, but somehow, she'll make it work.

For now, Natasha turned on the engine and drove away, already mentally planning how she'd like to spend her first official date with Wanda.

---

A/N: Fun fact: I used to work for the green mermaid coffee corporation, so parts of this fic were inspired from personal experiences. You'll have to figure out which parts though ;)

Anyway, this was my first non-MCU WandaNat AU. Hope you enjoyed the fic and thank you for reading! :)

Till next time.

[astarab1aze]

Get to Know the Mun !

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘɪᴄᴋ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ(ꜱ) ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ?

Well, it started with Kaede when I came back (and it was JJK that coaxed me out of retirement), but I took a three-year hiatus from roleplay et al. I didn't feel like I belonged anymore so, meh, left. Decided to focus on a fic (for Kaede ksjdhfs) during that time, some side projects too, but then the idea for the universe this blog focuses on came into being. At first, I just wanted to share it with the homies, but it was so unrefined yet so perfect for OCs, I had to expand and expand and expand - and then I thought, "Why not take it to tumblr, your natural habitat?" So here we are. All of the muses on this blog are rehashings of many many other muses I've had over the years, updated, changed as needed - I wanted to write the oldies without them being old, y'know? I missed them! So I combined some traits from some of them, new faces, etc. Threw 'em all in the pot and fleshed them out a liiiittle bit more through interactions, which only made me want to write them more and now I suffer endlessly (affectionate).

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ?

Aside from the obvious (graphic noncon, pedophilia, incest)? Not really, I'll write just about anything, even if I hate it. Like, I hate coffee shop AUs, but I'll write in one, y'know? I hate murder, but I'll write one. I hate angst, but I'll drown myself in it for free. I don't believe in limiting myself when authors like GRRM exist, and in order to be a well-rounded writer, imo, you gotta try things that disgust or terrify you (in writing). Research, getting into the heads of bad people to understand them so you can write a better villain or problematic 'good guy', further flesh out a life-changing experience for x character, etcetc. I'm just here to write and expand on established technique, style, storytelling ability, symbolism, stuff like that

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ?

It depends on some things, but I like to write stories and about characters who recognize the complications and hardships of life, be they with or without reason. Toxic relationships, smut, family life, monologues, horror when it suits me, dealing with trauma of any kind, romance at all, fantasy fantasy fantasy, etc. Can't think of anything super specific; It's really more about the themes I weave into everything. Growth, healing, wounding, what can make them worse, etc. It honestly goes the fuck on.

ʜᴏᴡ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ?

I get brainworms. Sometimes from single words, a visual, vague inspiration, video game lore - and I think about it forever until it becomes A Thing against my will ksjdhfs On occasion, I'll just have an idea ready to go, but will have to expand on it later

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ɪɴ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴏʀ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ?

I write with music on. If I don't write with music playing, it's because I have to keep my eyes and ears open for the munchkin and puppies. But I have to have noise playing in the background somehow, somewhere, or I go crazy and get nothing done.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇᴘʟɪᴇꜱ ᴏʀ ᴡɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ?

I plan almost nothing. I like to have as organic a response as possible for my replies and asks, and developments.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ꜱʜɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ?

Oh yes, all the ships, give them to me. I love to ship, as long as the characters have chemistry and develop. I'll ship just about anything if the vibes are right.

ᴡʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʟɪᴀꜱ/ɴᴀᴍᴇ?

Taro !

ᴀɢᴇ?

Over 25

ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ?

October 27th

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ(ꜱ)?

Every purple known to man, black, and teal

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ(ꜱ)?

You cannot put me on the spot like this. I listen to way, way too much music and have lots of songs I listen to on repeat from trap to metal to dark country to instrumental to r&b, so on and so forth

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ?

Pretty Things, which, uh, was fucking wild.

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ?

The Witcher - literally do not @ me.

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱᴏɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ?

Fight For Me, by AlicebanD

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴏᴏᴅ?

Potatoes :)

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ?

Spring and Fall and nothing else (i do not count the 87346823 other seasons in my state >:/)

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ?

I have a few tumblr besties! Particularly those I've been writing with for a literal decade, since I first started roleplaying on tumblr ( @elysiumtouched & @melancholymirth , and I love them immensely), but I've made other friends too, and sorta-friends, over the years and enjoy having them around, whether we write all the time and talk or not.

Tagged by: @origami-assassin (and others) ! <3 Tagging: anyone that hasn't done this yet!

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

Do you have any recs for the black phone?

DO I????

Do you guys know how exciting it is to get an ask that isn't about Avatar? Don't get me wrong, I love the Avatar ones, but the other kinds are such a fun change of pace. I have an equal obsession with a lot of other things, if not a bigger one.

So, I have a03 collections for a lot of things, and I do have one for The Black Phone as well. Check out The black phone was legit just like a fine movie it wasn't even that good why am I neck deep in this fandom sometimes I add more. As a massive fan of Steven King's IT (Reddie fics that don't make me think about the fact that this is a horror novel), I absolutely adore horror gay children, and as a massive stan of Donna Tartt's The Goldfinch (the goldfinch fics that don't make me sad and feel hatred towards english majors), I also love doomed love stories. Blah blah "the real horror is the blatant homophobia and trauma inflicted on the children that causes the death of pure imagination and dreams" there are better posts and essays written about that. So naturally I am a rinney stan so it's all rinney fics.

WARNING: This movie is a horror movie about a man kidnapping, heavily implied to be sexually abusing, and straight up murdering children, so there are some serious content warnings for some of these recs. Read at your own discretion. Avatar is a fandom I read pretty light shit for, I don't for The Black Phone always, so I'll try to be super clear with them.

the electric, synthesized, rock ballad of why finney blake can't have nice things by ECLIPSEWXTCH. I literally just made a post about this fic in relation to the pink concert. It's a modern au rinney fic where Robin and Finney lost touch as kids and find each other again as young adults, Robin a successful musician and Finney a student in college. If this fic is never completed I will burn this website to the ground. I have no content warnings for this fic unless you have an aversion to pure wholesomeness. Content warning for there never being as good a boyfriend as Robin Arellano? But we all knew that already.

Coffee boy by mikki_strange. It's a coffee shop au, man, it's adorable and it made me happy. No trigger warnings or anything, simply rinney fluff.

Holding On and Letting Go by Nizhoni93. CW: homophobia, implied underage rape, legit so much trauma and sadness. This is SUCH A GOOD FIC, oh my god. It's one I've reread a couple times now, despite it's length. I have recced this before because I brought it up in reference to the beloved and famed nocorro ghost au. Holding On and Letting Go is the INSPIRATION for all my sad nocorro ghost thoughts. It's entirely from Robin's first person pov after Finney has killed the Grabber and they other boys have moved on. Robin can't leave Finney, and spends his time haunting the other boy and watching as he suffers while Robin struggles too. It is. The biggest bummer ever. It's so heartbreakingly tragic. Even as Robin is describing all these big feelings, his love for Finney or the guilt he feels for having hurt all these people with his death, he'll say something like "And I was thirteen" and I remember he's a fucking eLEMENTARY SCHOOLER. I cried a counted total of nine times reading this fic. Highly recommend especially if you're into the nocorro ghost au. The chapter where the psychic tells Robin he's only hurting Finney by being there? I'll literally kill myself. The homophobia is fairly blatant, and although mentioned rarely the rape and Robin's disgust and shame around it is a hard read.

We Stand Together by HeavensAether. Serious trigger warnings for this one. It's almost a dead dove, tbh. Basically a rewrite of The Black Phone where all the kids are alive and in captivity at once, so they develop a fairly strong bond. The main draw for me was the psychological depth it takes into Finney as he works with the ghosts around him and tries to retain his sanity, his relationship with Robin, and the mystery of how they'll get out with Finney's powers. If dark bummers of a fic aren't your jam, this isn't for you! CW: underage rape, disassociation, homophobia, transphobia. Tbh the rape is (while not graphic) fairly disturbing and goes as a method of showing a characters disassociation. If it was in an earlier chapter, I'd probably not have continued reading. As it were, it's pretty easy to skip those parts, which I would recommend as what little I did read I did not enjoy!

And You Keep On Living by Nichknack (BBCotaku). CW: more common The Black Phone homophobia and also trauma and abuse, but I think so far this one is non-con mention free. It's basically just a post movie fic but where the timeline changes essentially, Finney and Gwen wake up and the ghost boys are all back and the world around them doesn't remember the Grabber and all of those events never happened. Some good rinney as always with a side of brance and it's very interesting, I can't imagine where it'll go.

Five Times Someone Discovers Finney is Spider-Man (And One Time He Is The One To Say It) by sleepysheep (mynameistadashi). CW: nothing let the boys be happy and in love and full of friendship. This one is a silly and cute rec, it just makes me smile. Let the boys be happy. It's just as it sounds, it's Spider-Man Finney and a 5+1 of everyone discovering it.

[nihil-ism]

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖 𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄.

⸻ 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠? Very early on in life, I wouldn't be able to pinpoint an exact age. Definitely somewhere around middle school in a continuous way; it was then that I started to write my own stories inspired by books I read, and even fanfiction. It kind of came naturally to me, just like my art hobby, because it was a nice way to pass time and indulge my escapism (I didn't have many friends, but also always liked spending time on my own).

⸻ 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞? Rarely, I am usually drawn to the same genres and themes I like to write about. I can enjoy a fluffy coffee shop AU once in a while, if it's well done. But most of the time these kinds of genres are too tame for me; I like my drama, complexity, horror and smut.

⸻ 𝐈𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧? I've never been compared to anyone as far as I can remember, and I don't really conciously emulate the writing of other authors -- however, I am definitely inspired by how certain writers phrase things, or by the vocabulary they choose. I have two final fantasy fics that greatly motivate me to expand my english vocabulary and write more intricate sentences, and I have always loved how Patrick Rothfuss writes. There is something about longwinded descriptions and flowery, sometimes even pompous language that I greatly enjoy, especially when it's paired with dark themes, horror, and erotica.

⸻ 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞? Since I recently moved it's mostly a work in progress right now, but I am glad that I managed to get this far already.

I have a dedicated place for all my Resident Evil merch; the general idea for my room here is to be mostly cyberpunk inspired when it's finished (as in, Cyberpunk 2077 // V's room), but with random fan merch occupying the space (and jellyfish!!).

⸻ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐩 𝐚 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞? Engaging with their media of origin, mostly. Usually my muse sparks most when I play their games (when it comes to my main fandoms of resident evil and final fantasy 8), sometimes also when I read other fanfics or even see posts about them. But 9 times out of 10, playing the games will do it. Aside from that, if I don't have time or energy but want to try and coax the respective muses out, I have playlists for them on my spotify which I listen to as I sit down to write. I have playlists for each character/muse, and sometimes also a playlist for the fic I am writing. Also a separate playlist for smut, because that needs a special mood and all.

Part of the whole keeping-myself-inspired thing is also running a sideblog for my fics where I can reblog aesthetics, quotes, and all that to get me into the right headspace.

⸻ 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠? 𝐃𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮? Definitely recurring themes, and they don't really surprise me because they usually don't change. I love focusing on the dark things, on dissecting the characters to see what makes them tick, on expanding what we have been given and twist it into something even darker.

Exploring a character's past and therefore their trauma, find what triggers them into action, have them suffer through all of it again as they progress the story - those things are my main drives to write and the reason why my fics always end up becoming massive instead of short °^^.

Smut is something I enjoy writing, but I often use it as a tool to explore character dynamics and the aforementiones themes, simply because it's fun (and not because I feel smut needs a story, it's simply preference in writing for me).

⸻ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠? Mostly the things I mentioned in the question before, it's my main drive to explore character dynamics; or shine a light on parts of the canon story that were only briefly mentioned (if at all), and see what can be done with that. It's a bit like doing a puzzle to me, in which I try to stick as close to canon as possible while expanding on it and trying to give it my own twist. The main reaction from readers I am usually going for is 1) writing in such a way it's believable the characters would speak and act this way, and 2) make readers feel like they are experiencing a DLC (when I am writing for games), or a secret additional chapter, or a bonus episode etc.

⸻ 𝐈𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠? Sadly comments are a dying breed it seems, so any comment I get is amazing feedback and usually motivates me to at least pick up my notes again and do some background work, depending on how much time and energy I have currently.

Thankfully I have never received a comment that pressed me to continue or anything like that, and I hope it stays this way.

But if I had to choose, I'd say the most gratifying and motivating comments are from people who notice the little hints I leave in my writing when it comes to foreshadowing. When they pick up on me hinting towards something brewing in the background that might come to bite the characters' behinds soon, or when little side-comments hint to other characters that might soon make an appearance.

I also would love hearing what parts the readers enjoyed most, it would help a lot to understand if I am "doing a good job", for lack of better words.

Oh and of course the general excitement when drama is about to unfold, it always makes me smile when people enjoy those parts.

⸻ 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬? ...honestly I have never thought about that before. Maybe, quite simply, that I made their day a little better with my writing. That would be nice.

⸻ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫? Character analysis, I'd say. I'm not sure if I always get across what I have laid out inside my head because it can become quite complicated and twisted (which reminds me I should post more headcanon posts), but character analysis makes up about 70% of my foundations for a fic.

Also I think due to this I am quite good at finding a character's voice (as in, writing in a way that doesn't feel OOC).

⸻ 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠? Oof, that depends.

Mostly I feel good about it, otherwise I wouldn't publish anything for people to read. But when I am forced to take longer breaks from writing, I feel incredibly rusty (mostly because english is not my first language, so I don't use it as regularly in my everyday life). It's frustrating sometimes because it takes time and effort to get back to the level it was when I left off, and so it impacts the time it takes me to finish a chapter, which in turn stresses me out a bit because I know how fast media consumption works these days. I try not to take the whole time-thing too seriously, but sometimes it gets to me.

⸻ 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞, 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐱 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡? Definitely a mix of both. First and foremost I write for myself, because I have a vision and I want to get it out of my system. I used to do that with roleplaying, but due to many reasons that is not a feasable outlet anymore these days. Maybe sometime in the future, with the right people and on the right platform.

I don't know if people who write fics and never roleplayed can relate, but when you write characters in rp, they often tend to develop a "life and mind of their own" (we usually just call it "the muse - aka character - is awake (and rattling the bars of their enclosure)" because that's what it feels like).

But yeah, that inspiration and creativity needs to go somewhere, so writing fics it is!

Aside from that, after a while I try to consider my readers in terms of pacing of the story, structure, internal dialogues versus action and all these things. To me, it's a way to improve my writing and not something I feel is a burden.

TAGGED BY: @judasiskariot (thank you so much, this was a lot of fun!) TAGGING: @blauerregen | @sauron-kraut | @no-bee (( if you want to, ofc!)

[efadefoks]

Okay thank you for your warm welcome of my random rambling so here's another one.

Well I generally believe that the plot of beyond evil is absolutely universal and you can apply it to almost anywhere. like you can clearly imagine the story in Japan (yeah we waiting for that one) you can see it in America, in France, in Germany, in Ukraine. everywhere. yes everywhere you can find a small town with some chilling stories of women disappearance and usually because of some stupid rules or general neglect these cases are getting cold and colder with every passing day. and you can find this poor people bound to this town because of the stories, because they cannot leave or they don't want to leave. And of course it's not a secret that the power among police ranks, among social authorities and within corporations is quite universal as well. so yeah this story the story can happen anywhere.

But the characters, oh the characters and their relationships, especially jwds. this relationship is not universal in terms of making stories about them. What I mean is that I hardly can imagine these two characters in some completely romantic AU, or in some coffee shop AU. Like the biggest part of their personalities is based on the enormous amount of trauma and sadness and sorrow. for 20 years these people just suffered. LDS lost his sister, he lost his father, basically lost his mother, his partner, his father figure, his daughter figure, almost brother who literally stabbed him in the back by being a ruthless killer. One of my favourite quotes from the episode (which keeps me awake at night) is jay ie's words: "at one point there was so much sadness in your life that you couldn't held it anymore and you start acting crazy". And this is beautiful and poetic and such an essential part of the characters background and storyline you just cannot imagine such drama in a coffee shop AU. with hjw there is the gigantic amount of guilt inside of him. this is his moving force, this is why he started all of that. the guilt and desire to be the justice personified. You can't imagine something like that in a simple comfortable fluffy stories. like they are traumatized, they are f***** up beyond all recognition and that's why they're beautiful and interesting and so so fun to dissect and analyze all of their actions and reactions. But if we put in them in a coffee shop, what's HJW is going to be guilty about? not making a coffee order right? steaming the milk foam for Cappuccino wrong? (He won't even work there or drink some coffee from a coffeshop)

The boys are the products of the storyline. The story can move without these guys: missing girls, crazy bastards that kill people, and power abuse can still be there. But this two guys cannot exist without this story.

But in no way consider this as "don't write coffeshop AU about jwds cause some rando said that on the website tmblr dot com".

[noir-renard]

batburger AU is an absolute masterpiece, and I was wondering, if you don't mind sharing, what is your process like for coming up with these incredible plotlines? It's a skill I want to work on, and you, my friend. mmmmMMMMM

ougghhh thank you so much!! ❤️🥰🥰🥰This is a delightful and very flattering question, so I'll do my best to answer it.

I, like many writers, enjoy rotating things in my mind like a rotisserie chicken. (I say "enjoy", but I don't have much say in the matter. These thoughts be roasting and turning 24/7 Costco Style and I'm helplessly standing in front of the chicken rack, warming myself up with the oven heat because I got cold going into the giant refrigerator room to get some berries)(this is a metaphor but it also happens literally to me pretty often. Costco cold. Rotisserie chimken warm.)

Sometimes something good will result from this; sometimes during the more productive sessions of "rotate that thought like a tether ball", neat sentences will form from the ether in my brain.

IYGABAB, for example, was birthed from the randomly generated mind-typewriter paragraph: In a way, it was almost funny. It certainly sounded like a joke—Batman, Bruce Wayne, and Red Hood walk into a bar. Only it wasn't a bar, it was the Iceberg Lounge, and Batman swooped down from the skylight rather than walking in. You might recognize that as the first sentence of the story.

Because I was and continue to suffer from incurable DP x DC Brainrot, my first thought about this paragraph was, heh, that sounds like something Danny would say.

My second thought was, wait, why is Danny at the Iceberg Lounge? And what are Jason and Bruce doing there? And who is wearing the batsuit, and why?

I thought about this scenario for most of the day, coming up with possible answers. When I'd been thinking about it long enough that it was clear Iceberg Lounge Time wasn't going anywhere and the daydream plot was actually kind of interesting and Hey, I'd love to read that story, I started writing it down and kept writing.

The first scene I actually wrote down in full was the one where Sal asks Danny to cover for him at work. Of all the possible answers I came up with for "Why is Danny at the Iceberg Lounge?" the answer I liked the best was "He's covering for a co-worker/friend from his actual job".

Which generated a new question: what's his actual job? Does he work at a coffee shop? At a diner? At a grocery store?

And then I realized the chaos, the beauty, the delightful mayhem that having him work at Bat Burger would be. Like yeah yeah we all know Danny looks like all the Robins already, but to actually make him dress as a Robin for work? I couldn't pass that up.

That's when I knew this story had legs. There was a place for it to start and a place for it to go.

Returning to that initial paragraph helped me generate a lot more questions that needed answering if I wanted to continue the story. Why is Red Hood at the Iceberg Lounge (other than looking for Danny)? What is Bruce doing there (and why does he need to be there as Bruce and not Batman)? Who is wearing the Batsuit (and why are they wearing the Batsuit instead of their regular suit)?

Answering those questions generated a lot of the plot threads, after which I had a general idea of what Bruce, Jason, and Dick were up to (Duke's presence at the Iceberg Lounge came later).

I could have left it at that, but like Marie Kondo I love messes, so I made up some problems for the rest of the batfam and found ways to link them together in obvious and not-so-obvious ways. (If you come back and ask me again after the story is over, I can give a more in-depth answer about this, but I don't want to spoil anything for anyone!)

side note: I wrote the story out of order; when scenes came to me, I wrote them down, even if I didn't know where exactly they fit into the story. Keeping momentum up was more important to me than having a story that made perfect sense right from the start. (I did have to put it in order eventually, and I chose to do this by making a calendar of events as well as document with all the characters and what they were up to at any given point in the story. Was this the best way of doing it? Probably not. But it worked so I'm not going to question it too much)

In this way, I kept building and building the story, layer by layer. I think this method is technically called the "snowflake method", but because I did it kind of haphazardly it didn't really feel like a method 😅

In short, the answer to "what's my process" is this: I find a question so interesting that answering it generates countless other questions that demand an answer, and in the process of answering them all hopefully a story will fall into place.

I hope this is helpful! My mind is a chaotic place that's hard to parse (even for me), but I did my best to describe it in a way that's informative.