#Tea Shop of Mysteries AU

[evilminji]

Okay, so maybe it's just me? Projecting my new Tea Phase?

Cause for med reasons, no more energy drinks, only Teeeeeeaaaaa~☆

But honestly? Now that I am an adult and ACTUALLY KNOW HOW TO MAKE IT? Really digging it! Am enjoying the Teas. Mmmmmmm~ leaf broth. I like the fruity ones.

So! IMAGINE~☆ If you will:

Danny. 14 and his parents are LOUD AS FUCK (CRASH BANG SMASH BANG WHIIII-) dispite it being, once again, a school night. This has been going one For Years. That STUPID fucking machine. All God damned hours. Crashes and bangs and powertools. Explosions.

When will it ever end!

He's... he's honestly used it.

Unknowingly? This is is a skill that will come in handy later. Living and functioning while sleep deprived. Healthy? Fuck no. But it's USEFUL. He IS the ten year old downing Monster drinks in the parking lot before school.

It makes him a jittery weirdo. Twitchy. Too much caffeine, not enough sleep, his parents either blew up or TOOK APART the washing machine AGAIN. He... he never stood a chance. It's a miracle the indoor plumbing hasn't been compromised yet... AGAIN.

His blood is more sugar, caffeine, and guarana or whatever those other things in the can are, then actual human blood. He doesn't CARE. He just needs too get decent grades, graduate, and become an astronaut. It's... it's FINE. This is normal. They're FINE.

(If they weren't... someone would have noticed, right? Would have DONE something. Cared. So it HAS to be fine. His family's just weird. It's FINE.)

But THEN...

The Accident.

And his biology CHANGES. Green goo, wrapped vicious and loving, around his very DNA. Like Kintsugi of the body and soul. In green, Green, GREEN. It... it's a lot. Everything changing all at once. Maybe that's why it takes him so long to notice.

Why he thinks "oh, I'm just tired cause I'm running more then usual. Fighting and flying. Doing ghost stuff."

When... when honestly? Some part of him always kinda KNEW. From the very moment he stumbled out of the portal. The aftershocks. The pain. Sam and Tucker crying, scrambling to help him up the stairs. Sam tearing her bag apart looking for her cramps medicine. Because... because pain medication is pain medication.

"It's gonna be okay, Danny. Please. Please god, just take it! I promise it's gonna be okay!"

How do you look your panicked, crying, strongest-person-you-know best friend in the eyes and tell her... you can FEEL it dissolving in your throat. Like the pills were dumped in a human shaped pot of acid. That... that the pain isn't changing... and you... you don't think it's going too.

When you're scared. Might be dying. And you can already tell they think it's their fault. W... when you're all just KIDS. And all you can think is... you can let them know how bad... how bad it hurts...

They'd never be able to live with that knowledge.

Yeah. Yeah, Sam. Thanks. T... The pills helped a lot. He feels better. You really saved the day. He lo... loves you guys so much.

...

.....

He thinks about that moment A LOT. About how much he realized and knew, before the denial kicked in. Before he got so... Tired. Fresh of all that energy. And? You'd think he realize. The mood swings. The irritability. The headaches that disappear the SECOND he goes ghost. That he's in caffeine withdrawal. But? Nope.

He kinda blames the constant ghost attacks for distracting him.

But see... Sam? Doesn't drink tea. Goes against her diet. Tucker was where he GOT his illicit borderline illegal energy drinks. And his sister? Big on flavored sparkling waters. Which are gross to him.

His PARENTS drink a thick tar they insist is coffee. It might be liquid fudge. Zone knows its nearly the same consistency. It's horrifying. No thanks, he wants to LIVE.

It's? Ironically? Mr. Lancer and his constant detentions, that help Danny realize somethings up. Because Mr. Lancer shares. If he makes a cup for himself, he'll make one for you. It's how he was raised. And, yeah, the after school detentions? Those were herbal blends. No caffeine.

But...

But they tasted nice. Were warm. The classroom was quiet and as frustrating as it was? The tea itself? Was always... the one exception to how shit the situation was. So Danny finally broke down and asked about it. Learned Mr. Lancer knew a? Surprisingly LOT about tea. Huh.

Then one day he gets SATURDAY detention. Oh joy!

Bright and early. One of the few times he could be trying, desperately, to be sleeping through his parents cacophony. Catching up on his desperately needed Zzz's. Here he is... getting a handed a new cup of different tea?

Breakfast blend? And a bagel..

N...none hostile breakfast? A quiet space to catch up on his homework? No Dash? Just... just a quiet classroom, some tea, and the sounds on a peaceful morning outside?

......oh.

It's the best time he's had in school in... God, in YEARS. He gets so MUCH done. For once can concentrate. And? Actually, now that he thinks about it? Feels... awake? Or at the very least, not as sleepy. And being a Fenton, whom to the LAST are a genius if eccentric family, it's pretty damn easy to put two and two together.

Tea.

He felt more awake after having Lancer's breakfast blend tea.

He obviously asks about it. Then, after detention is done. Calm packs up. Goes home. Drops his back in his room. Goes ghost. And SHOOTS for the Far Frozen with his phone and an energy drink. Because clearly he's missing something and it's time to ask.

The good doctors of the Frozen are... gently horrified. Clawed hands steeples infront of their mouths as they try to tactfully figure out how to word "Great One, WHAT THE FUCK!?!? Why would you DO THIS TO YOURSELF!?" Because that... is not professional. Breathe. In, out, in, out. We can do this.

They get the most patient and restrained of their elders to... CALMLY, very VERY Calmly, ask some medical questions. Listen. Without judgements! Because they are medical professionals. Who do NOT want to scream, forever, into the void. Certainly not. So Calm! (They are going to BURN THAT CAN IN-)

Which! Huh. Yeah, that explains the constant exhaustion. He was poisoning himself. Kinda. Not so much the GHOST but the human half. Putting to much strain and too much trace chemicals, minerals, and buckets of sugar. General "mmmm :/ Don't Like THAT ™" energy from the Goo causing it too try and constantly burning it all out of existence. Endlessly.

The more he put in, the more there was to burn. The more there was to burn, the more tired he became. The more tired he became... well, the more he put in. It was a slowly lethal starvation cycle. Big Yikes.

The TEA on the other hand? Those are leaves. The good recognizes leaves and water. Other various plants, dried or otherwise. It ignores them as "fine" until they reach a "problematic" threshold, apparently? So... *blank look at the doctor*

*sighs in medical professional*

Tea? Good. Satan Can of Halfa Poison? Bad. Please drink tea.

👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

And it's like MAGIC. He's suddenly BACK, baby! Ha ha ha! Skulker you fuckin THOUGHT?! Oh it's 2am? Well SUPRISE bitch! He's bright eyed and bushy tailed! His grades are up AND he's beating you like a drum! He has ice breakers for old people discussions now!! The local Tea Shops have NEVER been so well protected.

He actually manages to graduate with not just decent grades? But GOOD ones.

And the second. The INSTANT. He is legally his own man? Has his important paperwork squirrelled away and the go bags safely WELL outside of Amity. It's time. He meets OUTSIDE the house, because he's not an idiot. He's been practicing his Clones and has them ready to grab his parents so he can get out of there alive. Jazz is on video call from Star city.

His parents... suspected. Not at first, but as goofy as they are? They aren't ACTUALLY idiots. They've been watching, going over old research. Trying, failing, to get in touch with the League to have THEIR team test their research. Peer review is critical after all. They... they had been so certain. Are still somewhat certain.

But their research doesn't exactly ACCOUNT for this "halfa" phenomenon. So, there is a very real chance they are missing something. The one thing the DO know? Danny is their son. Stuck in some eternal mortally wounded state or not, he is a hero. And they weren't there for him.

They can't change their beliefs on a dime. But they've clearly missed a great deal. And refuse to fall to academic bias. The very thing that got them LAUGHED AT for decades. Mocked and belittled. This is their life's work. By God they WILL find out the truth.

It's? Better then he could have hoped. Not perfect. But better.

He helps set up safeties and a security check point at the portal. Both sides. He's kinda a big deal these days, mom, dad. Ghost scientists eager to work with them. A whole TEAM under their command. It certain endears ghosts to them a whole lot more. Then?

Copy of the blue prints, go bag turned into normal bags, Danny's off to college.

Bounces from major to major. Nothing really capturing his interest. As he aged, he's need less sleep. Gotten stronger. Grown into his father's height and grandfathers build. Tucker keeps calling him a dorito. Danny retaliates with Ancient Egyptian Cyber/Pharoah Twink allegations. According to SAM they are both dumbasses.

She's not WRONG... but hey D:<

Eventually? A really niche botany seminar run by Pamela Isely catches the attention of Tucker, who forwards it to him n Sam. Nice ™. It's being held in her Murder Park! Cool! Obviously they have to go. So off to Gotham they go. And? When they get there? Sam is APPALLED.

She may HATE landlords as much as the next activist.... but LOOK at all these run down, foreclosed, rotting buildings! Beautiful gothic infrastructure! Those could be businesses or homes! Danny, busy with signing them up, makes the mistake of tuning her out as she rants in fury. She does this some times. Needs to vent. Uh huh, you're very right. You should contact somebody. I agree. Mmmhmmm.

Hey, Sam, Ms. Isely needs your-....

Sam?

Oh FUCK ™.

By the time the Seminar come around? Sam has violently kicked in the door of more then a feel reality offices. Owns QUITE a few buildings. Danny is sweating. She... she's doing the THING again. The "gimme your Ghost Crew, I KNOW you have a highly specific Ghost Crew, don't you DARE lie to me or I take your knee caps, Danny" stare.

>.> Sam you can't keep doin- *stare intensifies* Yes Ma'am. *Pulls out Fenton phone* and so? Here come the renovation crew. The ONLY honest building Crew in all of Gotham. They cut no corners. Can't be threatened. Gangs, villians, and even local government office try to arrange... accidents on the build sites.

Nothing. Nada. In fact, it turns out more dangerous for THEM then this crew of outsiders!

Wtf!

Then? After these two College age weirdos finish Poison Fuckin Ivys HIGHLY SUSPECT biology seminar? Manson fucks off to who knows where! Leaving what HAS to be "the muscle" behind. Cause I mean? Look, at the guy! He's huge! And what does he do?

Goes building to building. Rents them out to low income families. Honest, hard working shop keepers. And? Eventually decides to settle smack dab in the middle of Gotham, in the shadow of Wayne fuckin tower, spitting distance from the Space museum..... and open? A tea shop? The FUCK?

"The Zone".

In a weird shade of green. With little ghosts, wearing crowns, because and I quote "it's funny"? Certainly crazy enough for Gotham. But like, it's loud as FUCK here. Crowded. There are gas attacks and shit. It'll never las-....

It stays untouched for MONTHS.

Sometimes being the ONLY building near it to be untouched. Gas NEVER getting in. The damn place a BUNKER. And? Despite looking like it's two floors? It's three. You enter and your actually on the second floor. No one's even sure where the fuck the guy LIVES, since he never seems to leave.

Not only THAT. But it... it's like one of those old school apothecaries. Big ol bank of drawers. Guy'll mix up your blend for you right as you watch. Tea nuts are actually risking COMING to Gotham to try his stuff. Writing articles. Apparently he has some pretty rare shit in those drawers.

Some UNKNOWN shit, according to one guy on ViewTube.

There's this whole debate on if it's Ultra Super Rare or that means it's just super cheap knock off crap. Some of them he won't make for people, even if they ask. There's a rumor it's for Meta's with specific diets. Or alien blends. But no one can verify that. Cause like?

Anyone who tries to cause trouble?

Can't fucking FIND the place. And if you're already inside? You just... drop. Stone cold unconscious. It's definitely magic but no one knows if it's HIS or Manson's? You know? He won't talk. Gets annoyed when harrased.

Which off course!

Leaves Only ONE gentleman for the job. An elite special forces trained expert. Polite, dignified, enjoyer of fine Teas. Alfred "Why do you chucklefucks keep forgetting I was in the Queens Service and a Registered Badass" Pennyworth.

After all! He DOES have the days shopping to do.

@babbling-babull @the-witchhunter @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @lolottes

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #Tea Shop of Mysteries AU #alfred pennyworth

[solarockk]

13 year old tea

designs // first meeting

shiny duo pokemon au "Pokémon’s Shiny Jewels Sun&Moonstone" by @wyvernspirit and I

#geminitay fanart #pearlescentmoon fanart #smallishbeans fanart #ldshadowlady fanart #mcyt #pokemon au #pearlescentmoon #geminitay #joel smallishbeans #lizzie ldshadowlady #sol art #artist on tumblr #A wild Lizzie enters the chat #And Joel I guess #Hey look guys it’s Barbie! ..and Ken #shes everything.... hes just ken #love you joel #They’re having tea.. in a tea shop.. as in.. it might be a teapot👀 #Ooo is that a wild cameo of a Katherine Elizabeth I see? #Is that the champion- oh no nevermind he’s still missing #Who’s that mysterious guy? Itsssss a loser #a girl failure #the best story of the AU and it’s not even the main plot point #how long can one run from their responsibilities? 13 years apparently! #we love him tho #i swear #not tagging who tho lol #joel might just be the funniest character btw #happy tuesday upload! #pokemon shiny jewels sun&moonstone

[theostrophywife]

the crush theory.

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader.

song inspiration: london boy by taylor swift.

author’s note: this is just a cute indulgent coffee shop! au with my sweetheart enzo. majorly inspired by all the boyfriend vibes louis has been serving with miss olivia lately. let’s not even talk about the ass grab with his big hands and rings…🫣

Enzo Berkshire never quite managed to master the language of love. 

Despite being a polyglot and a linguistics major, romance remained a complete mystery to him. It wasn't like he could craft a conjugation chart to help him not make a fool of himself in front of the girl of his dreams. When it came to matters of the heart, Enzo often found himself at a loss for words. Perhaps that was the reason why he never mustered up the courage to speak to you. 

Until that one fateful fall morning. 

The kiss of autumn arrived on campus a few weeks into the semester, freeing the city from the grips of the summer heat and bringing with it the changing of leaves and the distinct scent of cinnamon and apples. Enzo shoved his hands into the pockets of his burnt orange corduroy trousers and savored the sound of the jewel toned leaves crunching underneath his loafers. As the wind picked up, he wrapped his chunky knit cardigan tighter around himself to shield against the chilly breeze. 

The ivy covered brick buildings and cobblestone streets faded into the background as he walked past the quad. Deja Brew, the little hole in the wall cafe that Enzo frequented, greeted him like an old friend. The coffee shop was located on the outskirts of campus and was only a short walk from his dorm, which made it the ideal place to conduct his tutoring sessions. Not only was it convenient, but the cozy and quiet ambience provided the perfect setting for Enzo to teach his fellow struggling students. 

As time went on, the choice of location became less about convenience and more about catching a glimpse of you—the surly barista that worked the morning shift. For the past few months, Enzo developed a rather embarrassing crush on you. There was something about your scowl and no bullshit attitude that drew him to you like a moth to a flame. Though in his case, Enzo was perfectly content to hover a safe distance from the proverbial light of your fancy French cigarette lest he get burned. 

Upon first glance, anyone would have been intimidated by you. With your faded band tees, ripped jeans, and scuffed leather boots, Enzo was well aware that a girl like you would never be interested in a bloke who's wardrobe consisted of sweaters with elbow patches, floral print button downs, and neatly pressed pleated trousers. Needless to say, you were way too cool for him. 

Enzo was resigned to merely admiring you from afar, but fate seemed to have other ideas. The bell above the door tinkled softly as he made his way into Deja Brew only to stop dead in his tracks when he spotted you at the register. Usually, you were behind the bar manning the espresso machine during the early morning rush, but not today.

Today, you were front and center. 

Part of him considered walking out the door, but given the fact that the shop was nearly empty, a hasty exit would definitely not go unnoticed. Enzo had no choice but to suck it up and approach the register with resignation. The minute he opened his mouth, he was sure he’d muck things up. 

Enzo swallowed thickly and pushed his round framed glasses further up the bridge of his nose; a nervous habit he developed when he was younger. The erratic beat of his heart echoed in Enzo’s ears as his gaze flickered up to your face, expecting to be greeted with a frown. To his surprise, your lips curved into a small smile once you spotted him. 

“Lemon balm tea with two pumps of peach syrup and a dollop of honey, right?” 

Enzo blinked at the melodious sound of your voice, nearly missing the fact that you’d recited his exact order, which shouldn’t have been surprising given the fact that you’ve been making it for him for months. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little warm inside as you looked at him expectantly. He stared in stunned silence for a moment. 

You furrowed your brow in doubt. “Did I get that wrong?” 

“No, no, it’s right. It’s great. It’s perfect—“ Enzo cleared his throat, mentally kicking himself for rambling. “I’m just surprised that you remembered it.” 

“Of course I remember it, you’re one of my regulars. I’d be a pretty shit barista if I forgot your order.” You cocked your head, tapping your lips thoughtfully. “Speaking of which, do you want your croissant warmed up, Lorenzo?” 

“You know my name?” 

Enzo hadn’t meant to sound so starstruck, but hearing his name come out of your mouth made his heart skip a beat.

“And your social security number too,” you deadpanned. Enzo’s eyes widened, which made you chuckle. “I’m just having a laugh. I promise I won’t commit identity theft against you. Unless you piss me off.” 

You accompanied the statement with a cheeky wink, which only made Enzo even more nervous. 

"Don't look so nervous, peach. I swear I don't bite."

“Right. Sure. Of course,” he stammered. “The tea and the croissant sounds good, Y/N.” The realization that you’ve never told him your name came a beat too late. “It’s on your chest. The name tag, I mean. I wasn’t just staring at your chest. Though I’m sure it’s very nice. Bloody hell, I’ll stop talking now.” 

Enzo cringed at himself, but eased when you laughed. “You’re a strange bloke, Lorenzo.” You said as you began making his drink. “But I’ve got to admit, it’s oddly charming.” 

He chuckled, trying to hide the flush coloring his cheeks. “That seems to be my sweet spot.” 

"As sweet as peaches," you retorted as you added two pumps of peach syrup into his tea. "You'll have to excuse the fruit references. Before I knew your name, I referred to you solely as the peach guy."

"Is that good or bad?"

Enzo hiked his backpack over his shoulder and meandered down the end of the counter where you were topping off his tea with a dollop of honey. You swirled it into a heart pattern before sliding the warm cup into a sleeve. 

"Well, I've never met anyone who's preferred drink could constitute as a dessert, so it's certainly something. You're an enigma, Lorenzo," you said thoughtfully. "Though I think I like peach better. You don't really strike me as a Lorenzo."

“You can call me Enzo. I prefer it over my full name. It sounds so stuffy.” 

“We certainly can’t have that,” you said with a smirk. “Enzo. I like it. It’s rather becoming. Not stuffy at all.” He chuckled as you handed him a brown bag. "I might still call you peach from time to time. Force of habit. You understand, right?"

"Of course," Enzo replied. "El loro viejo no aprende a hablar."

"You kiss your mum with that mouth, peach?"

Enzo flushed. "It's Spanish for the old parrot does not learn to talk. Basically their equivalent of you can't teach an old dog new tricks." He shifted his weight onto his other foot. "What I'm trying to say is, I don't mind if you call me peach or Enzo or whatever else you'd like."

"You're giving me way too much freedom, Enzo. I intend on taking full advantage." You winked as you slid his drink over to him. “Enjoy your croissant. I put a little something extra in there for you.” 

Enzo peered into the bag and saw an extra pastry wrapped in black cellophane next to his croissant. The brownie didn’t look like any of the ones behind the counter, which meant that it was probably homemade. Strange, he wouldn’t have pegged you for a baker. 

“Oh, you really don’t have to—” 

“Nonsense,” you countered, waving off his protests. “Really, you’d be doing me a favor. It’s an experimental recipe of mine, which makes you my guinea pig. As payment, I expect a full report on the brownie tomorrow morning. Don’t hold back either, peach. I want a brutally honest review.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” Enzo said in reassurance. “In any case, your guinea pig will take ample notes.” 

“That would be much appreciated,” you said with a serious nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Enzo-not-Lorenzo.”

Enzo couldn’t help but grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.” 

Enzo rubbed his temples, willing the headache forming behind his eyes to vanish. Unfortunately for him, his last tutoring session with Flint seemed to have left a permanent mark. While Enzo usually enjoyed teaching French, Marcus was proving to be a rather difficult case. Not only was Flint unwilling to do the work, the knobhead also spent the entire session leering at you instead of studying the conjugation chart that Enzo poured his blood, sweat, and tears on. 

“Merlin, I have no idea how you deal with rich, smarmy arseholes all day.” 

Enzo looked up to find you seated across the table, sliding a sandwich, a fruit cup, and a bag of crisps towards him without missing a beat. He hadn’t even realized it was already an hour past lunch until his stomach grumbled at the sight of food.

“One could argue that I’m also a rich, smarmy arsehole,” Enzo countered, picking up a grape and popping it into his mouth with a slight smile. “Yet you seem to have no problems dealing with me.” 

“Yes, well, everyone knows I’m just using you for your body. Specifically, your taste buds.” Enzo shook his head in amusement before taking a bite out of the sandwich. Peanut butter and jelly, his favorite. “Besides, how else am I supposed to learn new insults in different languages if I hadn’t met you? Speaking of which, I believe I’m completely justified in saying that Flint is a total gehirnverweigerer.”

“Marcus isn’t so bad. He just needs a bit of a push,” Enzo replied rather unconvincingly. 

“If by a push you mean my boot against his arse, then I wholeheartedly agree.” 

“The French have this saying, petit à petit, l’oiseau fait son nid. In English, it roughly translates to: little by little, the bird builds its nest.” 

“Except Flint isn’t a bird, he’s a twat,” you deadpanned. “The bloke was too busy staring at my arse to even pick up a lick of French. To think, you even made this cute little chart and everything. You have the patience of a saint, Enz.” 

“One of us has to,” Enzo replied as he tore open the bag of wotsits. “Given your proclivity to violence.” 

“Don’t make me take your crisps away, Lorenzo.” 

Shielding his wotsits from your vengeful wrath, Enzo flashed you a saccharine smile. For good measure, he even batted his pretty honey eyes at you. The audacity. “Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite person in the whole entire world?” 

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Berkshire. Now finish your lunch or else I’ll be very cross with you.” 

Enzo smiled to himself, wondering at the fact you were complete strangers until a few weeks ago. Ever since you gifted him with the best brownie he’s ever tasted in his entire life, he became your designated taste tester. Every morning, Enzo would start his day off with his usual lemon tea and whatever new pastry recipe you had chosen to tackle that week. Between the scones and muffins, Enzo learned that you intended on opening your own bakery after uni. Hence, his very important role of reviewing your recipes. 

Granted, Enzo didn’t know how much of a help he actually was given the fact that he thought everything you made was amazing. Still, the novelty of finding a fresh pastry in his bag with a handwritten note from you never failed to brighten his morning. Especially since you signed each one with a crimson kiss print that made him blush every time he laid his eyes upon it. It was safe to say his crush had only gotten worse the more he got to know you. 

As you settled behind the counter to help with the afternoon rush, Enzo attempted to get some work done before classes started for the day. With finals fast approaching, he was caught up on making sure he had everything in order. It wasn’t until Enzo heard a familiar voice when he finally tore his gaze away from his laptop screen. 

Enzo froze as he watched one of his best mates saunter up to the counter. Even from his seat by the window, he could tell that Mattheo was flirting with you. In hindsight, his friend seemed exactly like the type of guy you would go for. The broody bad boy who probably listened to all the obscure bands that you often talked to him about. As Mattheo directed his smoldering gaze at you, Enzo thought he might be violently ill. 

Squinting across the coffee shop, Enzo angrily shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers in an attempt to keep himself from strangling his curly headed friend. 

In a tone that was at least an octave deeper than his regular voice, Mattheo drawled a question at you. “What’s good here?” 

You stared at him pointedly before waving a hand towards the menu. “There’s coffee, there’s pastries. It’s really not rocket science.”

The deadpan delivery combined with the utterly unenthused expression on your face nearly made Enzo snort out loud. It might’ve been an arsehole move to rejoice at Mattheo’s fumble, but he found it immensely satisfying that you seemed to be immune to the infamous Riddle charm. 

“A bit feisty today aren’t we, love? I just wanted to see what the pretty lady behind the counter recommends.” 

Enzo watched in amusement as you slipped on your signature scowl, the one that made him fall for you in the first place. “The pretty lady recommends that you stop holding up the line so she can get to the other customers who actually know what they want.” 

Hiding his smirk, Enzo feigned surprise as a dejected Mattheo plopped down across from him. “Merlin, that was brutal. Is the barista always this mean? I complimented her pins and she stared at me like I’d grown an extra head.” 

“Y/N isn’t really a people person,” Enzo supplied. 

“No shit, Berkshire.” Mattheo tapped his fingers on the counter. “Let’s just get to class before I embarrass myself any further.”

“That’s probably for the best,” replied Enzo. 

Ignoring Mattheo’s glare, Enzo packed up his laptop and put his tray away. He followed his mate through the throng of people, which had thinned out once more. They were a few steps away from the door when you called out his name. With a raised brow, you held out a pink box. Enzo smiled sheepishly in return. He couldn’t believe he’d almost forgotten the dessert of the day. 

“One lemon berry scone. Less tart, per your critique last week.” He took the box from your hands, blushing furiously when your fingers brushed against his. “Have a good class, peach.” 

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll have your full report ready tomorrow.” 

“You better.” Enzo nearly dropped the box when you winked at him. “Later, Berkshire.” 

Smiling to himself, Enzo came face to face with a gaping Mattheo. “For Salazar’s sake, it’s like I don’t even exist.” He muttered before breaking out into a grin. “No wonder my moves had no effect. Mate, she obviously fancies you.” 

Enzo’s cheeks immediately heated as he pushed out into the quad. “What? No. Y/N and I are just really good friends.” 

“Now I understand why you come here so often,” Mattheo remarked. “If the mean hot barista plied me with baked goods and called me peach, I’d be coming here every day.” 

“It's an inside joke about my drink order..." Enzo tried to explain. "The point is, Y/N isn’t mean. She’s actually really nice.” 

“Yeah, because she likes you.” 

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Does too.” Mattheo countered. “Why else would she bake you a scone?” 

“She wants to own a bakery someday. Obviously, that means she needs someone to test her recipes out on,” Enzo explained. “It’s how we became friends.” 

“Right,” Mattheo said with a shit eating grin. “Friends.” 

Enzo rolled his eyes. “Can we just please get to class?” 

“Whatever you say, peach.” 

“I have a theory,” Mattheo announced. 

Enzo sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Not this again, mate.” 

The rest of their friends perked up, abandoning their laptop screens and textbooks in favor of the newest piece of gossip. The little corner of the library that their group had claimed was fairly quiet, which was supposed to be optimal for revising, but Mattheo couldn’t seem to let his conspiracy theory go. He'd been badgering Enzo about it for a week.

“Berkshire here refuses to believe me, but I have it on good authority that Y/N has a crush on him. 

“Y/N,” Theo started, “You mean his mean barista friend? She’s proper fit.” 

“Don’t call her fit,” Enzo replied rather defensively. 

“A little touchy there, Berkshire.” Regulus said with a chuckle. “Is that jealousy I sense?” 

“For the millionth time, Y/N and I are just friends.” 

“Is that the same friend that makes all those tasty pastries for you?” Draco asked with a raised brow. “I’ve seen the cute little notes she leaves for you posted all around your dorm. With the adorable kiss prints and hearts. Seems to me like Mattheo’s right. Y/N’s sweet on you, cousin.” 

“Do me a favour and stop being a snooping twat, cousin.” Enzo retorted with a frown. “Y/N’s just being nice. It’s what friends do.”

“None of my mates have ever gone out of their way to bake me a bloody thing,” Blaise declared in feigned offense as he wrapped an arm around Pansy. 

“Yes, well, none of your mates even know where the oven is located, let alone how to operate it,” replied his girlfriend. Pansy smiled at Enzo. “Besides, I think their friendship is sweet.” 

“Thanks, Pans.” 

“So you don’t fancy Y/N?” Theo asked. Enzo opened his mouth then closed it. He was well aware that his friend was baiting him, but he refused to fall into Theo’s trap. 

“Like I said, we’re friends.” 

“In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I asked for her number, right?” 

As a matter of fact, Enzo did fucking mind. He minded very much. Too much, probably. But he couldn’t very well say that out loud. Instead, he masked his scowl and returned his attention to revising. 

“Knock yourself out, mate.” 

Theo smirked. “Alright then, let’s go.” 

“Go where?” Enzo asked disinterestedly, flipping through his study sheet for Latin. 

“To Deja Brew,” Theo replied smugly. “We all need a study break, anyways.” 

“You want to go there? Right now?” With each question, Enzo’s death grip tightened on his notes. “To ask for Y/N’s number?” 

“That shouldn’t be a problem, right? In fact, maybe you could introduce us.” 

Enzo would rather walk on hot coals. “I think I'll pass. I've already seen her turn Mattheo down and that was brutal enough as it is. I don’t need an encore.”

“Riddle’s probably not her type.” 

Mattheo frowned, crossing his arms. “I’m everyone’s type.” 

Theo chuckled. “Apparently not hers. Perhaps she’d prefer a handsome Italian, no?” 

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “In your dreams, Nott.” 

“Now I’m intrigued,” exclaimed Blaise. “I’d never miss an opportunity to witness Theodore get humbled. Are you sure you’re ready for a woman like Y/N, Nott?” 

“Please,” Theo scoffed. “I was born ready.” 

Against his will, Enzo found himself at Deja Brew ten minutes later. In his usual corner by the window, he brooded like a petulant child. This was a horrible, terrible, and idiotic idea. All he wanted to do was revise and now his study session had been hijacked just so he could watch Theo flirt with the girl he fancied. 

“You know, you can put a stop to this any time you’d like,” Mattheo said in a sing-songy voice. “Just admit that my theory is right. Y/N has a crush on you and I’m willing to bet that the feeling is mutual. Isn’t it, Berkshire?” 

Enzo crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. Instead of giving into Mattheo’s childish pursuits, he opened his laptop and pretended to be immersed with Russian translations. 

“Have it your way, Enzo.” Regulus declared, nodding towards the register. “Nott’s about to give us a show.” 

As irritated as he was with his friends, Enzo couldn’t tear his gaze away. Theo marched up to the counter with swagger and confidence, slipping on his signature smirk. You looked up from your phone screen, giving the tall and lanky boy a sweeping gaze. The unenthused expression on your face screamed that you weren’t at all impressed.

“Y/N, is it?” Theo drawled, squinting at the nametag pinned to your apron. “A pretty name for a pretty lady.” 

“Thanks,” you deadpanned. “My parents gave it to me. Now what can I get started for you?” 

“Aren’t you going to ask me for my name?” 

“I know who you are,” you replied dismissively. “One of Enzo’s friends, right? I heard about your little stunt in the fountain. You know, December’s not really a smart time to go skinny dipping.” Theo flushed as your eyes trailed down to his crotch. “Certain parts shrivel in the cold, Nott.” 

“I assure you, my parts were perfectly intact.” 

“That’s not what Katie Bell said,” you countered, tapping your lips thoughtfully. “I believe I heard something about shrinkage.” Theo opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. “I’ll tell you what, Theodore. Why don’t I fix you up a cappuccino? It’ll help keep you and your parts warm and cozy.” 

Enzo bit his lip to keep himself from bursting into laughter. The rest of his friends snickered as they watched a dejected Theo return to the table. 

Regulus snorted as he sat back down in defeat. “Merlin, that was hard to watch. Absolutely brutal, really.” 

Theo glared at Regulus in response. “I’d like to see you do better, Black.” 

Regulus winked. “Watch and learn, boys.” 

The older boy had about as much luck as Theo. Though the attempts had put him in a foul mood at first, Enzo was absolutely elated as he watched you turn down his friends. Regulus received an eye roll while Draco reeled from the head to toe once-over that humbled the absolute hell out of him. 

“It’s useless,” his cousin mumbled. “She hates everyone.” 

“Or maybe Y/N just doesn’t appreciate random blokes chatting her up while she’s trying to do her job,” Pansy said with an eye roll. 

“Oh bloody hell, here she comes.” Regulus muttered under his breath. “I don’t think my ego can take another hit.” 

The boys cowered as you came closer, but you didn’t pay them any mind. Instead, you set a fresh mug of tea and a lemon scone down in front of Enzo. 

“Last one, I promise. It’s finally perfect this time.” 

“You said that the last three times,” Enzo said with a chuckle. “They were all brilliant, by the way. Not that you listen to my well crafted reviews.” 

“You say that about everything I make, Enz. Honestly, a girl bakes you a couple of treats and suddenly I’m the best thing since sliced bread.” 

“I’m just being honest,” he replied with a shrug. “You couldn’t bake a single bad pastry if you tried.” 

“I’d like to try a pastry,” Mattheo interjected. 

You tore your attention away from Enzo. The smile that you reserved for him transformed into a scowl, your entire body language turning stern. “I’m sorry. Who are you again?” 

“Riddle,” Mattheo supplied. “Mattheo Riddle.” 

“Right,” you said slowly, as if speaking to a small child. “My pastries aren’t for sale. You’re more than welcome to try the day-old brownie behind the counter though. If you can manage to chew through it.” 

Mattheo sputtered, but you paid no mind to his aghast expression. Enzo fought the urge to kiss you right then and there. 

“Closing again tonight?” he asked, ignoring the blatant stares from the rest of his friends. 

“Unfortunately. Diggory bailed again. Probably too busy snogging Cho to come in for his shift,” you said with an eye roll. 

“Leave those lovebirds alone,” Enzo quipped back. “They’re in their honeymoon phase.” 

“I can’t for the life of me understand how they aren’t sick of each other by now.” 

“That’s because you’re a mean old grump.” You glared at him, which only made Enzo smile. “Luckily for you, that doesn’t deter me. I’ll come keep you company if you want. I promise to be way more entertaining than Cedric.” 

“It’s not a hard task to accomplish, but I’ll take you up on it nonetheless.” 

“I thought you might say that,” he said with a small smile. “I’ll meet you back here after my last class. Pad Thai tonight?” 

You nodded and grinned back. “This is why you’re my favorite, peach.” 

The boys gaped as you ruffled his hair in parting. They waited until you were out of earshot before launching into a tirade. 

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“Just friends my arse.”

“I can’t believe she actually smiled at you!” 

“It’s strange how treating Y/N like an actual human being instead of pestering her while she’s trying to work yields such positive results,” Pansy retorted. “I think you all need to start following Enzo’s example. Clearly he’s had more success than you lot.” 

Blaise patted Enzo on the back. “Mate, you might be the most oblivious bloke in all of Britain, but you’d have to be an absolute knobhead not to see what’s right in front of you.” 

He hummed in response, glancing up at the exact same time that your gaze met his from across the room. You winked, making him blush furiously. Merlin, you were pretty. It was honestly unfair. Maybe Zabini was onto something.

When it came to you, even Enzo had to agree that he was a total and absolute knobhead.

Later that night, Enzo helped you clear the plates and mugs as the last customers trickled out of Deja Brew. The soft sounds of your perfectly curated playlist trickled over the speakers as you flipped the sign to closed. He watched with a small smile as you hopped up onto the counter and beckoned him over. The fairy lights twinkled above the ceiling, illuminating your smile as Enzo took his place next to you. 

The sight of you grinning up at him tugged at his heartstrings. There were coffee stains on your jeans and apron, your thick hair was falling out of its braid, and a cold bowl of Pad Thai awaited in your lap and yet he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life. 

“Aren’t you glad Cedric bailed?” Enzo teased, knocking his shoulder with yours. “Now you get to enjoy cold noodles with your favorite person.” 

You chuckled, nudging him back. “I suppose this is nicer than listening to Diggory ramble on about Quidditch. It’s always bludger this, bludger that. I honestly considered bludgeoning him myself.” 

“To be fair, the man could merely breathe and you’d still find a way to be annoyed by it.” 

“No one needs to inhale that much oxygen.”

“I rest my case, you mean old grump.” 

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “You know, if anyone else called me that I’d poke their eye out with a fork.” Enzo chuckled as you stabbed into your bowl of noodles. “Besides, I have every right to be grumpy. It’s been a long day. Thanks to your incessant little friends.” 

“I’m sorry about the guys,” he said earnestly. “I tried to talk them out of flirting with you, but they’ve got this crazy theory.” 

“Oh?” You asked, raising a brow. “What’s the theory, then?” 

Enzo flushed, avoiding your gaze. “They uh…” He cleared his throat and stared at his shoes. “They think you fancy me.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe they’re not idiots after all. Your friends are right. I do fancy you.” 

White noise rushed through his ears. Enzo’s mouth fell open as he met your gaze. Surely, he hadn’t heard you correctly. 

“You alright there, peach?” 

“You…” Enzo trailed off, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You like me?” 

You chuckled. “I have for a bit. Thanks for finally noticing.” 

“How?” Enzo muttered. “What?” He cocked his head, trying to search for the proper words. “Why?” 

At the moment, it appeared that one syllable words were the full extent of his vocabulary. All those languages in his head and yet he couldn’t form a single coherent sentence. 

“Enz, I know your drink order by heart,” you explained softly. “I make you cupcakes and muffins. I write you notes every day. I thought I made myself pretty obvious.” 

“Gods,” he breathed, silently reprimanding himself. “I really am the most oblivious bloke in Britain.” Enzo licked his lips, turning over to look at you. “I just thought you were being nice.” 

“Lorenzo, when have I ever been nice to anyone?” 

“I am a bloody idiot.” 

“You never made a move, so I just thought you didn’t see me that way. Which is fine, by the way. I don’t mind being friends.” 

Enzo turned so fast he nearly smacked into the register. “Are you kidding? I’ve had a crush on you for months. You’re the best part of my day. Waking up and knowing that I get to see you every morning is the only thing that gets me out of bed.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Because,” he stated matter-of-factly. “You’re out of my league. You’re smart and funny and not to mention way too cool. Honestly, I thought you’d go for someone like Mattheo or Theo or literally anyone else but me. Someone a little more…” he trailed off, waving a hand over you. 

“Scary?” 

“No! Well, yes. Someone more confident and intimidating.” 

“Bad boys aren’t really my type.”

He scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. “They’re not?” 

“No,” you said, setting down your food and turning over to face him. “My type is a nerdy linguistics major who teaches me how to curse in six different languages and who makes cute little conjugation charts and orders drinks that should quite frankly classify as a dessert.” 

Enzo’s smile grew wider. "I like you too, you know. A lot. Like, embarrassingly so. With your grumpy little scowl and all black wardrobe and dry humor. I like all of it."

You beamed as Enzo leaned closer, tracing your lips like he was trying to commit the curves of your smile to his memory. His heart pounded in his chest as your eyes flickered up to meet his.

"Then kiss me like you mean it, Enzo."

Despite your confidence, the air left your lungs as soon as Enzo cradled your face in his hands. The twinkling lights made his brown eyes shimmer like pools of honey in the dark. The tension stretched between you as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing yours ever so gently. They briefly closed around yours—tasting, testing, taunting. Then the dam broke free.

Enzo pressed you closer and kissed you like his life depended on it. You smiled against his lips, melting into his touch as he tilted your head back for more. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as Enzo sighed into your mouth, his lips molding perfectly against yours. The once shy and experimental kisses turned needy and passionate, making you feel slightly lightheaded. Enzo savored your soft sighs, kissing you over and over again to elicit more.

It wasn't until you felt like the air had been depleted from your lungs when he finally relented. He pressed his forehead against yours, noses brushing as you both grinned at each other. It felt right to be this close. It felt like you were made to do this all along. Enzo brushed his thumb over your cheek, looking dazed as he pulled back to look at you. 

“It’s about time, Berkshire.” 

“Hey,” Enzo grumbled, pecking at your lips. “You can’t blame me. I couldn’t even look at you without blushing and making a fool of myself. You’re so intimidating.” 

“Not so scary now, am I?” 

“Oh no, I’m still terrified of you. But I’ve also seen you cry during the Notebook, so I know that deep down inside, you’re just a big softie.” 

You started to protest, but Enzo just leaned in and kissed you again. With his lips pressed against yours, you couldn’t even remember what you were about to say. As he pulled you into his lap, you heard cheers coming from outside. Behind the glass window, his friends were cheering and wolf-whistling rather obnoxiously on the street. 

Enzo responded by flicking them off and kissing you even harder, pressing your bodies together as you giggled. He hauled you to your feet, his arms circling around your waist as he dipped you for a better angle. Your back hit the counter as you raised to your tiptoes, winding your arms around his neck and mussing up his hair as you arched for more. The hollering only grew more incessant when Enzo grabbed your ass and squeezed. The groan that escaped from his mouth made you dizzy with desire.

If one kiss could elicit such a response out of you, it was almost scary to think what else Enzo had in his arsenal. A cheeky little smile curved against his lips as though he knew exactly what you were thinking. You basked under the warmth of his gaze, feeling flushed and flustered. That pretty face had you entirely fooled. Enzo was far from innocent.

“Gods, I really fucking fancy you.”

With a smile, you kissed the tip of his nose. “I really fucking fancy you too, peach.” 

Despite the many languages in Enzo's arsenal, no phrase or saying could convey how he felt better than his lips against yours. Maybe he hadn't quite mastered the language of love, but he had a feeling that you'd be more than willing to teach him.

#my pretty boy give me coffee shop shy enzo #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire smut #lorenzo berkshire fluff

[boombox-fuckboy]

#polls #audio drama #█████ posts #I'll tell you what they all are after the poll's ended

[mulloey]

what you pay for • mingi

you know what he’s here for (aka is it too late for a bouncy au idk)

warnings: western au, cowboy!mingi, prostitution, reader calls him sir but it’s not a kink, fairly dom!mingi, gentle choking, some slaps, threats of punishment, unprotected sex, me wrapping it up way too early because im tired

—————

He catches your eye almost instantly. He’s a little taller and younger than most of the regulars here, scowl on his face as he surrenders his weapons at the door — “Shop policy,” drawls the old man with an outstretched hand. He curses under his breath, they all do, but doesn’t seem any less confident even without his protection. Though you’re certain he’s never been here before, he oozes the confidence not just of a regular, but something even bigger. Something untouchable.

You watch as he buys a drink, served by one of the other girls, and downs it like he’s been waiting for it for years. He mutters something to the bar maid and she blushes. You roll your eyes, imagining he’s trying to buy her a drink but she doesn’t flash the knowing look you all share as you accept the most expensive liquor he can buy, pour yourself some tea, and pocket the cash. So he must be saying something else. You don’t know why you’re wondering what that is — the nature of your job means strange, intriguing characters by the dozen — but there’s something to him you haven’t seen in a while. Endless mystery ends up cancelling itself out, but even as the unpredictable has become expected, he still has you wondering about him. You need to meet this man. Find out his deal.

You stay perched on your table, chewing on the candies your Madame made, trying to look uninterested and passive as you steal occasional glances at him. You take in his broad back and the dark hair hidden beneath his hat before he turns around and finally sees you. Finally, he gets up, thanking the girl for his drink before he approaches you, coming to a stop next to your table. He puts a large, rough hand down onto the wood, just inches from your leg. He shoots a one-sided smile as his eyes rake over you.

“Barmaid says you’re down to play,” he gruffs and wow, his voice is low, low and rough and electrifying. It has you blushing, and this time when you flutter your eyelashes just as Madame taught you, you really mean it.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you giggle. He cocks an eyebrow, amused, and leans in closer.

“That a yes?” He chuckles. You watch as his hand moves along the wood towards your bare leg, tantalisingly close. “If it's not, you can feel free to move your leg outta my way,” he says lowly. You smile, keeping eye contact as you ever so slightly move towards him. He’s toying with you — but this is your game.

When his hand finally reaches you, curling around your ankle, it’s not as dramatic a moment as you expected, as he probably wanted, but it does feel different. Good. Right. And watching his dirtied hand sullying your skin as he runs it up your leg is strangely thrilling. As a saloon girl you’re by no means pure, but the presence, the demeanour of this man has you wanting him to find the one last tiny piece of you that is yet untainted, and crush it in his hands.

His smirk says he knows what you’re thinking but, still respectful, his hand stills before it can go under your skirts and towards your heat, but his grip on your lower thigh is tight and wanting. “You work upstairs?” He asks and you grin.

“Yes, Sir,” you breathe. He helps you off the table and you nod at another bar maid, letting her know what you’re doing before you lead him upstairs and towards your private rooms.

When the door of your room slams shut his hands are already on you, up your skirt, across your face and every inch of you he can reach. His kiss is hungry and desperate but a hand on your neck puts him firmly in control. “Fuck, little girl,” he groans. “You want it?”

Your head falls back as his lips latch onto your neck. Your grip on his waist tightens. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Fuck.”

He smacks his hand scoldingly against your thigh, brows furrowed. “Don’t dirty that pretty mouth,” he breathes. “Terrible language for a lady.”

You laugh softly at that. “You’re the first— fu—” you catch yourself before the cuss leaves your mouth, instead going for a vague, strangled sort of groan and he snorts, but the pleased look on his face encourages you. “You’re the first in a while to call me a lady,” you finish.

“Well you ain’t a man,” he laughs. “Let’s just—” You gasp when his hand finally reaches your pussy, sliding into your panties and finding your clit instantly. He smiles. “Yeah, definitely a lady. Got the pretty little parts to match.”

A long finger penetrates you slowly, as gentle as if you were a still virgin, tight and unbroken. You push into it desperately, whining when he starts to rub slow circles on your clit. You’re more than experienced with men, but you enjoy this careful treatment. You feel almost… cherished.

The finger inside you finds your spot and you cry out, jolting against him until his other hand wraps easily around your neck, holding you still against the door. “Fuck, Sir—”

“Mingi,” he interrupts. “You can call me Mingi, I— fuck, I wanna hear you say my name.”

If you weren’t so wound up you’d smirk — names are not commonplace here, even regulars preferring to keep theirs private lest the sheriff come knocking, so for him to hand out his purely out of desperation to hear you say it must mean he wants you just as badly.

“Mingi,” you moan and he grunts, curling his finger inside you.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispers. “Sounds so good.”

“Then fuck me,” you say and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Tellin’ me what to do now, doll?” He asks. “Don’t do that. You’re fuckin’ electric but I’ll spank you if you get cocky.”

You huff but nod your head. You strangely love the way he talks down to you, telling you what to do and scolding you like a little girl. It’s somehow different from the others, the endless men who traipse into your room and speak to you like a common whore. Perhaps the difference is how Mingi strokes your neck so gently as he humiliates you. Or maybe it’s the finger that fucks your cunt like no one has ever even tried to. But it doesn’t matter. This man is addictive and you already know you’ll do anything to get your fix.

His eyes are piercing as they stare you down, lips twitching as he observes your reaction to every movement. “I do think you deserve it, though,” he says. “To get fucked.”

You should be humiliated by the way you nod fervently, like you’ve been starved of this your whole life, but you’re not. Right now you’re capable of any emotion but unbridled desire and desperation. “Please,” you whisper. “Please, Mingi.”

“Get on the bed,” he orders, smiling sweetly as his hands leave you.

You whine pathetically at the loss of contact and he laughs, watching as you stumble towards the bed. You look back at him, waiting for instruction but he just smiles.

“You choose the position, angel,” he says. “Since you’re being so good.”

“From the back,” you say much quicker than you should have. “Want you to use me.”

The way he grins tells you he was thinking the same. “Ass up then, doll.”

You find the position easily, well-practised but your heart faces as though this were your first time. You feel Mingi’s presence behind you, towering over you as rough hands run up the backs of your thighs. He pulls up your skirts without a word, leaving you bare-assed and more vulnerable than ever. A sharp smack lands against one of your cheeks and it’s painfully delicious. You want him to hurt you, you realise. You want him to ruin you.

“Should I go slow?” He asks. “Or d’you reckon you’re wet enough for me to slide right in?”

You both know the answer. “Wet enough, Sir.”

He chuckles, sliding a finger in to check his grunt of approval is both gratifying and humiliating. “You’re right,” he says. “This cunt is fuckin’ dripping for me.”

Seconds later and his cock is penetrating you without warning, entering you easily but still stretching you. He’s big, you think. You knew he would be.

He doesn’t waste time easing you into it, thrusting into you fast and hard. Your chokes and gasps mix with the sound of skin slapping and his groans of pleasure. A drawn out ‘fuuuck’ fills you with pride. You’re tight even after all this time, like you were made for taking dick, a vessel for pleasure — his pleasure.

You cry his name over and over, chanting it like a prayer — apt, you think, because this is certainly the closest to heaven you’ll ever get. On the edge of bliss he pulls out only to slam back in again, pulling your hips against his to push himself deeper. His grip on you is bruising, as are the slaps he lands on your ass just to hear you scream. A single touch to your clit pushes you over the edge and you collapse into him, breathless and dazed but he keeps going, chasing his release. For once you pray he doesn’t pull out — you want him to come in you, pump you full of his seed, maybe even get you pregnant. You crave it like you’ve never craved anything and he delivers, unloading into you with a yell.

When you come to your bundled in his arms, held tight against his warm chest.

“How much do I owe you?” He asks and you sigh. You’d almost forgotten what this was, a simple exchange of services between two people. But it doesn’t have to be. Business may be business, but you know what you want, and you want it again.

“First time’s free, baby,” you lie.

He hums, not really believing you, but you know he’s just as addicted to you as you are. “Guess I’ll need to come back, huh?”

Yeah, you think with a smile. You guess he will.

—————

Heyy just dropping something small cus I haven’t posted in a while. Not proofread but please reblog and comment if u like this! Requests are still OPEN! Love🖤🖤

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez hard hours #mingi smut #mingi x reader #ateez au #ateez x reader

[the-anchorless-moon]

Ok ok ok coffee shop au though. Seivarden is on like month four clean and set up with a stupid job on a stupid station selling stupid bitter bean tea to stupid uncivilized hicks who wouldn't know real tea if it bit them on their stupid ungloved hands and she is this close to saying "fuck it" and spending the total savings from her minimum wage earnings on a raging bender but also she doesn't because of Mysterious Asshole Stranger. MAS is an arrogant jackass. She calls Seivarden her personal name straight off her nametag like they know each other or something but also has yet to introduce herself. MAS hums constantly in a voice like she's been gargling rocks for the last thousand years and Seivarden has a lot of time to listen to it because MAS is a regular who comes in every morning and does Amaat-knows-what on her handheld for literal hours but also Seivarden literally does not care because MAS speaks fluent Radchaai in an entirely understandable accent and Seivarden is desperate to figure out what the entire fuck her deal is. She doesn't even wear gloves. Is she Radchaai and doing the equivalent of vacationing at a topless resort? Is she just weirdly good at languages? One time MAS watched Seivarden struggle to get the stupid automated cart with the shitty-tea-bean delivery to work for twenty minutes before standing up, picking up a 40 kilogram bag under each arm like it was nothing, and walking into the back with them. She was singing a song about horses the whole time. What is her deal.

Meanwhile Breq has long since passed "why is Seivarden here and alive" and moved on to enjoying making Seivarden bring her tea while using Space Google to figure out whither next on the hunt for the Fuck Anaander Gun

#imperial radch #Seivarden vendaai #breq mianaai

[lovebittenbyevans]

Mystery Girl

Summary: The press finally found out about you and Toji

Pairing: F1driver! Toji Fushiguro x friend! Female Reader

Warnings: cursed words

Author note: Welcome to Toji world. The continue AU series Life In The Spotlight. Enjoy reading!!

– I don’t do taglist at all

Everyday there is always a new headline about Toji Fushiguro. Everyone loves talking about him a lot. The fans love the formula one driver a lot even though sometimes fans can be a bit much.

As of lately the press all they could talk about is him being a formula one driver but soon enough his career was not the only thing everyone is talking about.

Toji Fushiguro spotted out at tea shop with mystery girl

The Formula One driver was seen with his fifth girl this week at a tea shop. These two seems to be looking a bit cozy with one another

You somehow knew eventually the press would catch you and him together. You have always lived a private life while being friends with Toji but now everything changes.

Toji and you have been in a situationship for a few years now but a part of you wants to call it off. You can already tell Toji will never be committed to you fully but you never told him how you actually feel about him.

You stepped out of your hotel room, pulling your hoodie over your head. You quickly got inside the car, closing the door while cameras were flashing nonstop.

It didn’t take the paparazzi that long to find out what hotel you were staying at. You take off your hoodie and sigh. “It will die down in a few days.” Toji says.

You let out a fake laugh. “If you say so.”

Toji wanted to keep you hidden from the world a little bit longer. He wanted to still lay low with you without the press finding out but it was already too late for that.

“Are you coming to my race this weekend?” He asks.

You glance away from the window and glance at him. “I can’t. I fly back today.”

“What? I thought you were leaving Tuesday.” Toji frowned a bit.

You sigh and mumbles. “I changed my flight.” Getting away from London is exactly what you need right now. You wanted to stay and support him but you just can’t right now.

Toji nods while listening to you. He didn’t know what to say. He thought he would have you here in London much longer.

The driver stopped the car and said. “We are here, Y/N.”

Toji looked out the window for a second and noticed he was at the airport. “I thought you would spend time with me on Tuesday before you leave.”

You started to open the door as you looked at him over your shoulder. “Look, good luck on your race Toji. I appreciate London.” Toji attempted to take your hand, but you pushed the car door shut and exited.

The driver closed the trunk and handed your suitcase to you. “It was great to see you again Roger.” He nodded as you walked inside the airport.

Toji sat in the car watching you walk inside the airport when his phone began to ring. He cleared his throat and answered his phone. “Hello?”

“For someone who is so hard headed sure doesn’t listen to me.” His publicist Ryan said through the phone.

Toji rolled his eyes. “What is it Ryan?”

“Shall we make the statement now about you two or–” Toji hung up the phone feeling his heart race.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Toji knew this was about to become the new topic of his life besides his career.

#toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x female reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x female reader #toji x y/n

[mrghostrat]

ok OK listen. here are my latest streamer au thoughts before i try to hop off for the day:

i love "married couple madly in love that no one realises are together because they're so different" but i am also terrible at fic planning for established relationships, and my favourite part about aziraphale/crowley is the lead up and the pining

so what if......... "streamers who no one realises are roommates because they're so different" AND "roommates who are secretly madly in love with each other but are so focused on keeping their own infatuation secret they don't notice it's reciprocated until thousands of online strangers start to point it out" ?????

fic concept: crowley and aziraphale are two full time streamers living together. they have their own spaces. but they mesh bizarrely well as roommates, and have come to really enjoy the routine of eating dinners, grocery shopping, and spending their days off together. there's still some distance between them, that shy sort of "i want to show him something– oh his door is closed, i better not bother him," invitations are actual invitations rather than "i'm doing this and you're coming with me," and they're not a CrowleyAndAziraphale unit yet.

both chats are going mad trying to figure out why crowley's roommate's voice is so familiar, and where they've seen that red hair in the corner of aziraphale's screen before. there's conspiracy theories and a subset of shippers (stoked by both crowley and aziraphale's occasional penchant to sigh and vent about a vague crush they haven't named, but is definitely their mysterious roommate if you watched every stream and collaborated on an elaborate google doc to connect all the dots together) but their mods are the only ones who know they live together. (and ship it. of course they know about the crushes and ship it to death and are just watching with popcorn waiting for these idiots to figure it out)

some people piece it together with all the off hand mentions and mid stream tea deliveries, and more start to believe them when crowley drags aziraphale to a twitchcon event and they're seen being friendly in photos together. they're also aware of people constantly asking and guessing about their illusive roommates, but when crowley finally pops up on an aziraphale stream, both streamers are startled at just how insanely their communities react to the innocuous reveal.

nothing changes for aziraphale and crowley. they were never intentionally hiding the fact, so they just continue referring to each other in their normal vague terms. but now when a new viewer is like "who's your roommate?" long time subs with the lore will fill them in. and it very quickly starts to sound like "crowley lives with aziraphale, that wholesome kitchen streamer. someone's made a clip comp, you should go watch. it's adorable they're so in love" and crowley sees these messages like what the FUCK are yall talking about in here on this day, and bans a message for the first time in six months.

aziraphale of course sees none of these messages because he's a fuckin luddite and can't keep up with chat.

or. maybe he's just choosing not to acknowledge them. because if chat can see he's in love with crowley, does that mean crowley can see it too? and that is just unacceptable and terrifying to him, so he smiles and quickly starts explaining how to saddle stitch a book spine even though literally nobody asked

(anathema, newt, and nina have worked their way through the flavoured popcorn seasonings anathema's aunt sent her for christmas, and are now experimenting with homemade seasoning recipes together) (if maggie knew about all this, she would have put her foot down and demanded they talk to aziraphale and crowley about having a conversation)

#ineffable streamers #good omens #listen someone asked me for a longfic and i want to provide it #streamer au could be PERFECT

[hauntedhokage]

Tattoo Artist!Barbatos Headcanons

Tattoo Artist Barbatos

note: this has basically spiraled into an au that includes some like mob elements I think?? Idk i just work here and don’t really get paid. I've been drinking these might not make sense but here you go

Covered in tattoos (of course) but always wears long sleeves so you don’t know the extent of how tatted he is until you see him in a short sleeved shirt. You can see the hand tattoos when he’s not wearing gloves and what’s on his neck but his arms, chest, and legs?? Total mystery.

Has the CLEANEST shop. It’s decorated in a vintage fashion, dark teal walls with black wood flooring and trim. His walls are covered in art consisting of tattoo flash pages, completed tattoo photos, and his own personal art. 

Also just has snacks at the ready. Homemade and store bought (but his homemade snacks are always on demand). His tea is always ready for anyone who wants it. 

Speaking of, all of his consultations are done over a cup of tea and after his clients finish their tattoos he invites them to sit with some tea to relax a bit before they go on their way. Drinking tea out of a straw should be a crime anywhere else but for a tattoo client he’ll allow it (but only for his favorites, read: diavolo). 

His shop is probably called something like paradox.

He definitely has like the clock tattoo but on him it looks so fucking good. Also has knuckle tats, and neck tats, and some roses somewhere on his torso somewhere.

His shop is like a second office for Diavolo and Lucifer, and whatever possibly illegal things those two are orchestrating around town. If anyone asks, he has a fun little smirk and is excellent at playing dumb when he has to. 

Still is always looking out for Diavolo when and however he can.

#tattoo artist!barb #tattoo au #obey me barbatos #barbatos obey me #obey me imagines #barbatos obey me imagines #barbatos imagines

[sameschmidtdiffname]

i recently had a thought about the reader's online friend!josh futterman, like if these two actually KNOW each other irl but have no idea about it because they use nicknames

i'd really appreciate it if you'd write something like this and I hope my description of it makes sense i used a translator for this lol

in love with your writing btw !!! <3

Bbgirl I gotCHUUUUU

Familiar Strangers

A Josh Futturman x Gender Neutral! Reader Series

Summery: They always say you never know when you'll meet Mister Right. But damn. This is a new level.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no gender specific pronouns for Reader, coffee shop AU, Josh never wins 'Biotic Wars' AU, fluff, meet cute, online friends who don't realize they're friends irl as well, brief mentions of smut, otherwise SFW.

Notes: Alright, first actually planned series! Is it gonna be a slowburn with twenty parts? A mini series? Who the fuck knows! Not me! Let's pray, mfers.

                                 ¤•1•¤

                    °☆>》Maggie's《<☆°

"Please tell me there's a chance for us," she says with baited breath. "Don't tell me you're walking away."

The atmosphere of the small, brick walled coffee shop is calm for 10 o'clock in the morning, but I'm not complaining. God knows I prefer this over the alternative anyways.

"You know that I can't answer that," Oshua says to Tiger, agitated.

This guy, always trying to be mysterious.

"I've waited for you my whole life. You could give me a goddamn-"

The ring of the shop bell tears me from my reading, my head darting up to see who has come to disturb my morning of peace and fiction.

"Hi!" The customer says in overly bright voice. One look at the man and I already know he's the chatty type, not willing to just duck in and out, keys jingling from the black belt on his hip as he flashes a bright, genuine smile, waving his hand enthusiastically while keeping the other in his pants pocket.

Motherfucker.

"Hi!" I try to return with the same bright smile and tone, but I feel irritation spike into my chest as I hear the soft 'click' of my phone shutting off. "Welcome to Maggie's, what can I get you?"

Gentle sunlight streams in through the permanently clouded bay windows of the shop, illuminating the store in its warm glow that just makes a morning feel particularly peaceful. There isn't much foot at this point in the morning, most people already having arrived to work an hour or so earlier, myself included. It was a busy enough part of town, a good location for a coffee shop to thrive, especially with the loyal flow of customers from Kronish Laboratory, a tall, dull building dedicated to scientific research, and the little coffee shop that signs my checks often had the pleasures (read: irritations) of dealing with said researchers and keeping them alive while they work on the miracle cure for herpes. Most of them being particularly rude and short about their orders, usually in a rush for a regular cup of black coffee and swiping it from my hand before storming out to resume their endless work typing away at a computer to log their samples after what must be their too short lunch break. Or maybe too long. Can never tell with those assholes. Most of which I know through mental nicknames. It's partially because I'm no good at actual names. And partially my own form of disrespect and entertainment. Come on, you do it too.

"I don't know," the unfamiliar man says brightly, placing his hands on his hips as he looks at the chalkboard sign hanging behind my head. "What do you like?"

'Whatever gets you out of here the fastest,' I think. But instead I say "Well, what exactly are you looking for? Tea, coffee," the door, "smoothies?"

"Hit me-" gladly. "-with a tea," the bright man says just so... brightly.

Thank you for being so descriptive. "What kind?" I ask, trying to keep my smile sweet.

"Whatever you like," he says with a shrug.

"Vanilla chai?"

"Sure!"

I need to stop being so irritable when someone interrupts my reading. I'm not even allowed to be on my phone at work technically, except the manager generally doesn't care so long as I at least make half an effort to hide it and don't do it in front of customers. And maybe I wouldn't even really care about the interruption except I've been waiting for the release of this part for two weeks, and Nick had been so secretive about the ending he didn't even let me beta read the work before posting.

"What's got you in such a mood?" I ask the smiling man, turning to begin making the drink. Oh, size.

"What do you mean?" He asks, raising his brows, still smiling. Brightly.

"You're like a big... ball of sunshine," I say, gesturing towards him before holding up a small and large cup, now gesturing the two like they were on scales to silently ask his preference.

"Oh, I'm just excited this morning. I'm not usually like this," he says, laughing a little as a small blush grows on his nose, glancing down at the floor before returning his gaze to the cups, pointing at the small.

"Yeah?" I ask, putting the large cup away.

"Yeah. Finished a big project this morning, so I'm like," he shrugs, now scratching the back of his head as he tries to subdue his smile, pressing his lips together and now crossing his subtly built arms across his chest.

"Well, congrats," I say. There's a small moment of slightly awkward silence as the tea quickly brews, both of us not really sure what to say next. This is the part I hate about customer service. I feel bad if I'm not constantly keeping them engaged, but if they're constantly talking I wish they would shut the fuck up. I already can't read regular conversation cues, there's just no winning with this shit.

"I like your uh..." the man I've decided will henceforth be known as Sunshine drawls. "Apron."

I look down at myself, taking note of the dandelion yellow cloth stained with coffee at the bottom from an hour ago when it accidently dipped into a puddle of the stuff while I was cleaning up a spill someone hadn't even told me about only half an hour after opening.

"Thanks," I say, looking back up. "Company issued."

"Oh, we match!" Sunshine jokes, pointing at his grey jumpsuit. Alright, the man may be way too energetic for the morning, but at least he's entertaining about it. I take an actual look at his attire now, a janitors outfit with what I should've expected to be a Kronish Laboratory logo right above his name sewn onto the suit.

"That we do..." I glance at his nametag. "Futturman."

"Fut-turman, not Foot-turman," Sunshine corrects me.

"Oh shit. Shoot. Sorry, man," I laugh awkwardly, offering an apologetic smile as I pour the warm, steeped tea over the ice.

"Iced in Febuary?" He asks, giving me enough grace to not focus on the subject.

I feel my own blush creep onto my skin, a side effect from the name jumble and realizing I hadn't asked his preference. Get your head in the game, idiot.

"I can make you another, if you'd like," I offer sheepishly.

"No!" He blurts, straightening his posture and leaning against the counter. "I mean-" he coughs awkwardly, glancing away. "No, iced is good. I like iced, just uh- figured you... wouldn't have the same preference."

Please, God. It's too early for this.

"I don't like the hot to room temperature texture," I say awkwardly, searching for a lid. "Too... I don't know. Iced to room temperature is better."

"Totally agree," Sunshine says quickly.

Glad to know neither of us can interact with humans properly.

Another moment of awkward silence, except I know what to say this time.

"So, you work at the lab?" I ask. For the small moment I didn't have his attention, he seemed to be surveying the small cakes on display inside the counter beside me, looking at a little white cake with strawberry coating on top before turning back to me.

"Oh! Yeah, no, I just- Carl told me about the place, said I had to try it out," he says, shifting his weight as he stands. "Good vibes and all that."

"Carl..." I say, trying to remember if I've known a Carl.

"Big, like," he gestures his hands long then wide. "Works security, looks like," he makes a sort of stern, almost mean mug face. At that it clicks.

"Oh! Carl!" Deftones Guy. "Yeah, I know him," I say with a more relaxed smile, chuckling a little.

"Yeah, said you guys discuss music sometimes," he says, nodding enthusiastically like he's glad we know the same person.

"A little," I say, placing the drink on the counter. "Alright, Mr. Futturman. $6.70 is your total."

The dark haired man nods, pulling out a green wallet with an emblem on the front from one of his deep pockets. I try to get a clear look simply out of curiosity, but his large, tanned hand covers it too much for me to see what it is.

"Here you are," he says, handing me his card. There's more silence, this time comfortable as I swipe it, our machine beeping twice in decline. At the third beep, Sunshine begins to shift his weight again, licking and biting his bottom lip nervously.

"There should be money on there," he says with a nervous chuckle.

"Oh, it's the machine. It doesn't like working," I clarify. "One sec."

Quickly, I pound my palm into the righthand top corner of the device, right under the chip reader before inserting the blue, cloud covered card once more and waiting for the transaction to clear. At the much more calm, non-nuclear level beep we both breathe a sigh of relief as I return the card to him with a smile.

"Alright," he says with that bright tone to his voice once more. "Now I can see what's up."

We both can.

"I hope you have a good day, Mr. Futturman," I say brightly, still a tad pink from leftover embarrassment.

Sunshine nods and smiles at me, toasting his drink before turning from me and beginning to walk away, taking a sip of his drink and humming in approval, turning quickly and giving me a thumbs up before tripping over his own foot and stumbling into the door like a bit of an idiot, making me giggle slightly before I make myself look away to give him the same grace he'd given me earlier. And with that last exchange he's gone, and I'm free to return to my art.

The tall man looked sadly at- ah shit, I jumped ahead.

"I've waited for you my whole life. You could give me a goddamn answer, Future Man!" Tiger spat in anger and frustration, forcing the emotions she could barely even allow herself to feel overwhelm her in her attempts to communicate.

Emotional angst for my bright morning. God bless, Nick.

-

As I push open the door to my apartment, my phone is buzzing with still silent notifications of what I can guarantee are Tumblr sourced. More specifically, Tumblr messaging sourced. As I push the door shut with my foot, one glance at my old, outdated phone confirms my thoughts.

felinehusband: Okay, give it to me straight.

I smile at the notification, allowing my oversized bag filled with too many items to clatter to the ground loudly, unlocking my phone and responding quickly.

icanfixhimdotorg: Dude.

I walk as I type, entering the kitchen and opening the door to the small freezer to see which cheap meal I'll try not to nuke tonight.

felinehusband: Dude? ,:)

I smile at the message, picking out chicken teriyaki as I hit send.

icanfixhimdotorg: Worth. The. Wait.

I cross to the beaten microwave, the appliance cheap and secondhand from Facebook marketplace. It's honestly a miracle the thing hasn't blown up in my face or given me detectable cancer, but despite the large dent on the side, still usable. Google said if the door still seals and there's no opening, it was safe. And it got that dent from me dropping it on the way inside the apartment on move in day after I already paid $50 for it after getting it from some overworked mom who hardly wanted to even charge that low. I sure as hell wasn't gonna get a refund, or anything functional for cheaper.

I leave my phone on the counter as I open the frozen meal, vent the film and slap it inside. Now to wait for seven minutes.

felinehusband: Oh thank GOD. I've been anxious all day.

I chuckle softly, smiling as I lean against the permanently grimy counter.

icanfixhimdotorg: I don't know why!! You always post such good work :)

felinehusband: Well, I post work that always has good reception.

icanfixhimdotorg: The difference?

felinehusband: ... I'll get back to you on that one lol

I tap my foot against the floor, listening to the muffled echo mix with the loud hum of the microwave as I stare ahead at the mint green, poorly painted wall in front of me.

icanfixhimdotorg: No cervix penetration?

There's plenty of ways to meet friends. I didn't not bank on responding to a request for beta readers for fanfiction for some moderate, slowly dying game fandom to be one of them.

felinehusband: ONE TIME!

The quick response makes me laugh, clicking off my phone as I turn my attention now to my waiting meal that I'm going to devour much too quickly while working lines for my production.

Nick and I started chatting about six months ago. I had already been following him for some of his shit posts, midnight blogging, and when he started posting fanfiction I was one of his first readers.

'Biotic Wars' doesn't have a particularly big following on Tumblr as it used to. When the game first came out, people were going insane over how to beat the final level. The community thrived from memes, overly elaborate theories, fanfiction, you name it. It helped that there was a huge boost in the gaming community in general around the time it came out, what with 'Five Nights at Freddy's' cranking out sequels faster than anyone could keep up with, 'Undertale' breaking out onto the scene a little bit later. The gaming side of Tumblr was alive and thriving, and the amount of overlapping there was between fandoms only made it bigger. That was how I found the fandom personally. That and binging several different speed-running videos.

At the point Nick came onto the scene, most had generally lost their interest in the unbeatable 'Biotic Wars.' The fans that remained did so out of genuine interest or hyperfixation instead of temporary trends, and while good work was still being posted, everyone had at that point either begun to shift their own writing focuses, lost time to post frequently, or shifted to other platforms such as Archive of Our Own and had stopped crossposting to their Tumblr. So a decent, well paced, new angst fic following a lone Wolf and Tiger reminiscing on their old journies together as they attempted to survive a bitter winter night without any supplies other than an old tarp being used as their only attempt of shelter as they attempt to ride out a storm after a mission gone wrong popped onto the scene, people were immediately captivated. And even though it was a one-shot, the work received enough attention that a spin-off fic was posted within the following 48 hours. And once those two had blown up, Nick was quickly recognized in the community for his content, shitposts and fics alike. And he was very lucky to have overwhelming positive feedback. Until his first smut, that is.

icanfixhimdotorg: Nico, baby. It's an important first step for every smut writer.

Oh, it was brutal. First, he decided to go off the deep end by just jumping straight into some tenticle situation for poor Tiger. Now, granted, he did post a poll before hand asking if we readers would enjoy the consumption of some outrageous shit, to which 78.8% of voters said yes, myself included. But when reading a 'baby's first smut' fic, one doesn't really expect... that. But I'll admit, it was surprisingly good quality. Until the cervix penetration.

"Coiling in her womb." Yeah, Tumblr had a fun day with that one.

It took less than a day for him to post that he was searching for smut consultants and beta readers, to which I responded both out of genuine interest and a bit of pity since I was sure his ask box was filling with several new comments. No one was surprised when he ended up turning off anon for a few days. And since I had responded to quite a few of his works/posts already, I was one of the lucky few selected for such a job since he recognized me. And once the doorway was opened for casual chatter, both of us just kind of never stopped. Either by constantly responding to each others posts, automatic reblogs at each notification of a new post, or messaging each other about our days kept us both sane as we tried to just survive each new day as adults.

I look up from my notebook where my tragic script is scratched across the $0.75 college notebook as I lazily attempt to memorize my lines while mostly keeping my eyes trained on the old TV in front of me to check the buzz from my phone, swiping it open to read the new message.

felinehusband: So how's season four going?

icanfixhimdotorg: Dude.

I watch the screen until I feel the phone buzz once more in my hand.

felinehusband: No spoilers!! I'm still trying to push through season three for you ;)

Nick was sweet. Good for a joke, claims he's a little awkward, but a good friend. Sweet enough that about two months ago he'd let it slip he'd begun watching my favorite show simply because "If I have to see you go insane over animated anthropomorphic animals interacting with humans again without context, I'm gonna lose it."

icanfixhimdotorg: Binge it!! You're gonna lose your mind!!

felinehusband: You're gonna delay part 10 lmao

As I take the last bite of my meal, I realize the time, sighing as I begin to do the mental math of how long I have until practice tonight. Knowing how little time I have to prepare, I pause the episode and type one last quick text.

icanfixhimdotorg: If it does, it's worth it honestly. You won't believe this shit, Nick.

As I stand from the sagging, horrendously textured couch I catch his parting message while I stretch, popping about five different spots in my back.

felinehusband: Okayokay, if it means I can read your over the top rants again, it's worth it :)

icanfixhimdotorg: Excellent. Got to go, showering for practice tonight.

I trail quickly through the small apartment, grabbing whatever clothes are passable in public while remaining comfortable enough to sleep in when I immediately collapse into my bed around 11 tonight, an old, tattered, turquoise towel I'd stolen from my parents when I moved out, and grabbing my soap from the kitchen sink before making my way to the bathroom. Listen, Seventh Generation is cheap and works just as good on the human body as it does on dishes, alright? I'm trying to get a mortgage one day.

As I wait for the water to shift from its arctic temperature to something more bearable, I check my phone one more time to quickly reblog a gifset and read Nick's departing message.

felinehusband: Knock 'em dead, Mercutio :)

felinehusband: Also, I need some input later tonight for this like. Slowburn thing. May be an AU. Not sure, we'll see. I'm thinking coffee shop

Ah, yes.

icanfixhimdotorg: A classic.

                             >¤》○《¤<

I'm making no current promises on how frequently I update this series. Hopefully it'll be something I can work on while working and such, but we'll see what happens. My current hope is to post at minimum one request and hopefully one part for this series per week. However I will warn one of my current projects is about to wrap up, meaning I'm going to have to focus on that next week as much as possible, meaning I probably won't get anything done writing wise next week unless I aim for a drabble or headcanons. And even then I'm not sure I'll have time for actually editing and such, so don't be surprised if the only content you get next week is some rambles like I've been doing for Peeta lately or nothing at all. Alright, love y'all!! Stay safe, stay healthy <33 see you next time.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

               •▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

#josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson #jhutch #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson fluff #josh hutcherson imagine #josh hutcherson smut #josh futturman #josh futturman headcanons #josh futturman smut #josh futturman x reader #josh futterman x reader #josh futturman x y/n #josh futturman x you #josh futturman x gn!reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #gn!reader #coffee shop au #online friends au #meet cute #fanfic #fanfiction #future man #future man fanfiction #future man fanfic #future man 2017 #future man hulu #josh hutcherson future man #jhutch1992

[squaredbean]

Okay: Morning Crew Wild West AU

Tazercraft: highly wanted outlaws, obviously. They go around robbing places, taking as much as they want, passa tudo and all that. There’s a hefty bounty on their heads, and if there’s a few casualties so what? Recently they’ve broken out of prison and have decided to settle down for a bit before they make their next big heist. Their greatest asset is their kid, who is small to fit into tight spaces, and runs a good distraction feigning poor helpless child in need, and is all too happy to help

Fit: Mercenary, also wanted, but he’s pretty anonymous compared to tazercraft. (He’s also kind of indebted to this crime lord from another town but he’s kind of ignoring that as much as he can). Still, he would be more wanted or have a higher bounty on his head since he is an active hitman. Although, his last job was to kill some guy who owed a shit ton in debt (gambling, cigarettes, etc.) and he caught the guy passed out in his home. Quick job, easily done - except he didn’t realise the guy had a KID. This wouldn’t be a problem in any other case - in fact the kid would be dead if he hadn’t THANKED FIT? Fit panics because why did this kid just thank him for murdering his only parent? And when the kid asks him if he can tag along with him for a bit… Fit just sort of panics and agrees. Besides, he’s not getting payed to kill the kid

Tubbo: grew up in a orphanage until Phil took him in, (Phil owns a saloon, he’s chill af with the outlaws so they meet there a lot) and he’s an underground trader, supervises a lot of exchanges and is slowly building up some sort of mechanical criminal empire. He unofficially adopted an orphaned kid with a few of his friends and she just hangs around with them now, incredibly pleased with her fathers steadily growing wealth

Bagi: runs a private investigation business with her brother, they keep getting in trouble with the law (Sheriff Foolish, and his mysterious silent deputy with the checkered pants) since they work with the outlaws to do their jobs, but they have a conspiracy that the Sheriff is being bought off by a secret organisation called The Federation. They work with the outlaws and the outlaws are happy to comply if it means screwing over the Sheriff. Through investigating the sheriff she has come across a girl who runs a tea shop who is friends with the Sheriff and has become rather captivated with her, even though she isn’t fond of the sheriff himself

In a random twist of fate (or a frankly desperate cry for help from the Fed) Foolish hires Fit to find and kill Tazercraft. Except when Fit tries to sneak out to do the job, Ramon follows him. Fit doesn’t realise this until Ramon is caught by a handsome, dark haired Brazilian. But he doesn’t kill him - in fact, he asks if he’s okay, takes him in and offers him tea (Ramon refuses and Fits heart swells with pride). He watches closely should the guy try anything but eventually Ramon says he has to go back to his dad.

Fit sees the guy at the saloon the next day, confronts him, is then confronted BACK by his pink-haired friend, and eventually they introduce themselves. Pac explains that Ramon reminded him too much of his own kid, and Fit eventually tells them about Foolish’s mission and his original mission. Bagi overhears this entire conversation and is immediately incredibly intrigued, Tubbo being Tubbo wants to be included and inserts himself into the conversation. Shenanigans ensue

That’s all I have the brain power to write for now, maybe this will be comprehensive, maybe it won’t. This is just pure waffle lol

#qsmp #fitmc #pactw #mikethelink #oibagi #tubbo #qsmp morning crew #anyway I’m a strong advocate of Mike and Bagi in the Morning Crew. not undermining the original trios dynamic in any way #but we love bagi and mike thank you very much

[rwrbficrecs]

WIP Wednesday

Happy Wednesday 🌞

A Practical Arrangement by @kiwiana-writes (book-verse)

@heybuddy-drabbles: Fantasy kingdoms and arranged marriages with a plot twist. Beautifully written as always. They never disappoint!

@thesleepyskipper: YES I never read WIPs but I'm reading this! Totally new take on the arranged marriage trope, which will have you hooked immediately but then even more so at the end of the first chapter! I absolutely cannot wait for the rest.

late night devil (put your hands on me) by the46captainswanfiles (book-verse)

@heybuddy-drabbles: Vampire!Henry au that's also a coffee shop!au. It's really entertaining and sweet. Haven't finished the first chapter yet but I'm excited about it!

why are you googling vampires? by @daisymae-12 (book-verse)

@heybuddy-drabbles: ALSO Vampire!Henry au that I've been waiting for SO LONG and it's finally here. It's HILARIOUS.

The Tea Shop on Verbena Street by @dumbpeachjuice (book-verse)

@14carrotghoul: This Practical Magic influenced AU is so funny and magical and sweet and mysterious! Henry is a witch with a missing boyfriend (or several) and Alex is the detective that is looking for answers!

check out our past WIP recs here ❤️

#wip wednesday #rwrb fic recs #firstprince #firstprince fics

[luvxiem]

pink camellias

word count ! ~3.3k pairing ! luxiem x gn!reader (separately) genre ! fluff summary ! flower shop/tattoo parlor au (alternates between reader & the boys bc i want cute flower boys too) song ! whereabouts of the bouquet | kanae

.｡.:*☆ IKE EVELAND !

occasionally on mornings where you're arranging flowers outside the shop, you would spot the handsome stranger across the street opening up for the day. sometimes, the two of you would make eye contact and he would shoot you a pleasant smile before slipping past the parlor door. you never spoke to him—never even got within six feet of him, in fact—but your curiosity was piqued by this pretty boy with fishnet gloves and wire-frame glasses.

your thoughts couldn't help but stray to him—the quiet, mysterious tattoo shop owner across the street. what you didn't know, however, was that he's noticed you too. to him, you're the gorgeous florist with a dazzling smile, and his mood always seems to lift after meeting your eyes. when he gets a particularly difficult client, his gaze will shift from them and out the windows, ultimately landing on your colorful form. the image of you grinning and laughing with one of your regulars shoots a burst of energy in his veins, letting him survive the day with his sanity thankfully intact.

it was a quiet wednesday morning when you finally met.

you were once again arranging a new arrangement of spring flowers out on your shops windowsill, humming a soft tune under your breath. you didn't notice him slowly approaching until he was right behind you, yelping in surprise when you spun around and saw him so close. he let out a soft laugh as you placed your hand on your chest, playfully scowling at him.

"god, you scared me!" you breathed. "how are you so quiet? i didn't even hear you come up." the stranger gave you a knowing smile.

"it seems to be a talent of mine. my friends complain about it quite often as well," he says, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly. taking his hand out of his pocket, he reaches out to shake your own.

"it's nice to finally meet you," he starts. "my name is ike. i work at the tattoo parlor just over there." he points over his shoulder to the shop in question. funnily enough, you swear you can see a figure in the window giving the two of you a big thumbs up. he seemed to be wearing a fedora?

returning your gaze to ike, you smile and introduce yourself in turn. he was much more beautiful in person, you thought. and maybe it was the soft sunlight dancing across his features, or the gentle breeze ruffling his hair in a way that felt criminal, but you felt emboldened by the tranquility of the moment and spoke before you could chicken out.

"would you like to come inside for tea?" you ask, biting your lower lip slightly. ike's gaze softens at your words.

"i'd love to, älskling."

.｡.:*☆ LUCA KANESHIRO !

luca loved his job. it was clear to see his adoration for tattoos considering the swirling forms of ink adorning his chest, back and arm, and he had the reputation to back it up; great skills, excellent service, and a wonderful conversationalist. the blonde's shop is a popular choice for first-timers thanks to his bubbly attitude and easy-going personality, and he had a way of making you feel comfortable in the chair even with a needle buzzing away and leaving permanent marks on your skin. he knew why he was popular; luca has high emotional intelligence after all. how else could he make his clients feel so at ease as he does? this reputation was what drew you to his shop in the first place.

immediately you felt out of place in your pastel yellow cardigan and white linen trousers. when you called on the phone, the woman you spoke to was enthusiastic about your idea and understood your request for the "nice artist that everybody goes to for their first tattoo". you assume the turquoise-haired receptionist sitting behind the counter was her, and you mustered up the courage to approach at her kind smile.

"hi! did you have an appointment?" she asked. you nodded and gave her your information as she clicked through the files on her computer. turning back to you, she gave you another grin in an attempt to ease your obvious nerves.

"luca's just cleaning up his equipment from his last appointment, he should be ready in five to ten minutes," she says. nodding and shooting her a quick thank you, you go sit down on one of the plush couches as you wait to be called in.

it feels like no time has passed at all before a head of blonde hair pokes out from behind a door, violet eyes sweeping across the lobby before landing on you. suddenly, a bright smile adorns the man's face as recognition flickers in his eyes.

"hey!" he calls, approaching you quickly. your eyes quickly drop to his rather large chest—how are his tits so big? what the fuck. that button is fighting for its life right now. oh god the way his shirt stretches as he moves. is he talking right now? oh fuck i'm staring aren't i shit oh god fuck-

you quickly snap your gaze back to his face, praying to any god out there that he didn't notice your painful obvious staring. lucky for you, luca is the textbook definition of himbo. while he did notice, he thought it was for a completely different reason.

"oh shit, is there something on my shirt?" he asks, looking down to check.

"ah, no, there was a fly but it's gone now," you quickly say, trying to salvage the situation and save your hide. the receptionist is watching the exchange with stifled laughter.

"oh pog, that's fine then," the blonde says. "anyways, as i was saying. it's super cool to finally meet you in person! i'm luca, you own the flower shop across the street right?" you nod, fiddling with your sleeves. he leads you into the studio with a smile, plopping down onto the swivel chair and flipping through a black binder that presumably held your design.

"it's super cool that you're getting a tattoo," luca starts, removing a few sheets of paper from the binder. "i'm honored to design your first one. i know it's a big deal and you might be scared, but there's nothing to be nervous about! here's some of the designs i came up with for your idea, by the way. don't worry if you don't like any of them, we wanna make sure you're a hundred percent satisfied with the design before we start inking!" he finishes. luckily for the both of you, you fell in love with a version on the second page.

luca grins, and soon enough the high buzzing of the tattoo needle fills the room. seeing that you're still a bit fidgety, he racks his brain for a way to calm you down while he sanitizes your skin with an alcohol wipe.

"hey, uh…" he pauses. you look up and meet his eyes. luca bites his lip for a moment before continuing with a small smile.

"how about we make a deal?" you lift an eyebrow showing that you're interested.

"if i can get this session done without any tears or panic attacks, will you go on a date with me?"

.｡.:*☆ MYSTA RIAS !

tucked away in a hidden corner of central london was a quaint little street filled with cute little shops and flowering trees. string lights hung across the buildings while vines crept up the red brick giving it a cozy atmosphere. passerby can be seen browsing the many stores and chatting with each other outside cafes, sipping on their tea and snacking on pastries. overall, it was a popular area for locals and a hidden gem for tourists.

there was one store in particular that got a bit more foot traffic than the others, and that was the flower shop. run by a mother and her son, you could always see at least one patron scanning the many bouquets or discussing events with either of the two florists. they were well known for their great color combinations and meaningful consultations, and the two had a solid group of regulars coming back every week.

one of those regulars was you.

your coworkers can find you at the florists every tuesday morning to pick up your usual order of carnations to decorate the reception desk of your tattoo parlor. they were your favorite flower and there was always a bouquet set aside and ready for you to pick up when you inevitably dropped by.

today, however, you were met with the son instead of the matron who normally worked tuesday mornings.

walking inside, the tinkling of a bell signaled your arrival in the shop. there was one other person here this early in the morning—an old man you see every week picking up flowers for his husband. you shoot him a quick hello and a smile before you turn to the front counter. you saw the carnations wrapped up and ready on the shelf behind the counter, but no florist to be seen. since you were in no rush, you decided to just wait and look out the window, watching a rather amusing dispute between a squirrel and a bird.

about five minutes had passed before you hear a door open. looking over your shoulder, the first thing you notice is his orange shirt, and the rather large basket of peonies in his arms. closing the door behind him with his foot, the man turns around and jumps slightly at the sight of you.

"oh shit!" he yelps, fumbling the flowers in his arms. you laugh a little under your breath at how cute he is before you walk over to him.

"do you need help?" you giggle, reaching out an arm in case the basket fell. he waves a hand signaling that he's fine before sliding past you and gently setting the flowers down onto the counter. briefly, memories of the matron retelling various stories and gushing over her son flash in your mind. he's a lot more handsome than you thought, based off her descriptions of him alone.

"you own that tattoo parlor down the street, right?" the man asks, turning around to face you. "my mum told me you would be coming to pick up the flowers. i'm mysta, by the way." walking around the counter to pick up the bouquet of carnations, he turns back to you and inputs the price into the register. you swipe your card and quickly thank him as he hands them off to you with a grin. you're about to push open the door to leave when you pause, biting your lip. fuck it, you think, turning back around.

"mysta," you call. the florist looks up from where he was arranging another bouquet.

"yeah?" he responds, quirking an eyebrow. taking a deep breath, you smile.

"would you be interested in grabbing a bite to eat later?"

.｡.:*☆ SHU YAMINO !

it only appears when you need it most. at least, that was how the rumor goes. it was hard the believe that the run down building across the street was home to a magical flower shop, but there were too many people who swore they’ve met the sorcerer to brush it off completely.

it was quite an old building—vines crawled up the decrepit brick and weeds sprouted in large clumps in the cracked sidewalk. the archway leading to it was rusted and the gate itself was hanging precariously by its hinges.

you refused to believe it at first. after all, magic wasn’t real, right? but the number of clients gushing to you about the pretty florist kept increasing. it spread to your actual work as well with many of them requesting to get their flower permanently inked onto their bodies.

every morning now when you’re opening up the shop, you find yourself looking over your shoulder to stare at the old building, wondering if you would ever be able to see it like so many others have.

the answer to your question showed itself almost a month later.

when a rather scathing review of your shop appeared on yelp, you couldn’t help but feel insecure of your work and your place in this profession. despite what your coworkers and fellow artists have said in an attempt to reassure you, you couldn’t get that nagging feeling out of the back of your mind.

now, you find yourself locking up the parlor for the day when you hear a faint tinkling. it sounded like wind chimes, but as far as you knew, nobody on this street had any hanging outside. curious, you strained your ears to see if you could determine where the sound was coming from. it was almost enchanting, and you couldn’t stop yourself from walking toward its melody. your feet take you to the rusted gates across the street, and taking a brief look around, nobody else was outside at the moment. it almost seemed as if the world went quiet. pushing past the worn gates, you gasped at the sight.

instead of the dilapidated old building you thought you would see, your eyes are met with a warm brick shop with smoke gently puffing out its chimney. flowers you’ve never even seen before were on display in the windowsills, and the dainty cobblestone path was lined with little orbs of light. for a lack of a better word, it was magical.

pushing open the wooden door, you hear the tinkling of the wind chime that drew you to the shop in the first place. taking a quick glance around, you see various flowers and plants tastefully decorated around the room. the muted purple walls seemed to hum with energy—in fact, the whole place did.

you took careful steps around the displays when you hear the wind chime’s melody once again. this time, it takes you toward the back of the shop where you find a small pot housing what looked to be daisies. you let your fingers brush against the petals lightly, breathing in its pleasant aroma. taking a closer look, however, you see a little label next to the pot that said ‘chamomile.’

“it means strength in adversity,” a voice says behind you. spinning on your heel, you’re met with striking violet eyes and a mischievous smile. the man—who you’re going to assume is the florist/sorcerer everybody has been talking about—is leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. you stare at him for a moment. he really is pretty, you thought.

kicking off from the wall, he walks up to you and caresses the chamomiles with a soft look on his face. turning to you, he grins.

"it's nice to finally meet you, neighbor. i was wondering when you would show up,” he says. “i’m shu; i’m the owner of the shop.” you reach out to shake his hand as you introduce yourself in turn. looking back at the white flowers, you bite your lip. opening your mouth, you ask him how much they cost. shu shakes his head with a knowing smile.

"i don't take mortal money,” he starts. “all my customers pay me with memories or feelings instead. they’re much more valuable to me and my work.”

soon enough, you find yourself sitting on a plush chair with a bowl of swirling pink mist sitting in front of you—mist that was supposed to be your emotions. shu dips his hand into the bowl briefly before he jerks it back with a blush on his face. he coughs awkwardly, unable to meet your eyes. the sorcerer rubs the back of his head before taking the bowl and pouring its contents into a flask he seemed to pull out of thin air.

right when you’re about to leave the shop with your chamomiles in hand, the violet eyed man stops you with a hand gripping your elbow. you raise your eyebrow at him in question.

"um…" shu starts. he takes a deep breath before continuing. “would you be interested in coming back? you don’t need to buy anything, it’s just…” he bites his lip. “i’d like to see you again, if that’s ok.”

six months later, you shrug off your jacket and place it on shu’s chair revealing fresh ink on your shoulder. he grins at the sight.

.｡.:*☆ VOX AKUMA !

AKUMA FLOWERS was well known for its handsome florist. extremely well known. you can often find handfuls of people trailing into the store as if they were hypnotized, an excited smile gracing their face as they greet the man. it's obvious to see that many of these patrons aren't exactly interested in the flowers but vox instead, and despite this he always welcomes them in with a warm hello and an attractive grin. however, it was because of these types of customers that the demon tends to appreciate those with a genuine interest in his work.

vox takes a lot of pride in his arrangements—many nights have been spent memorizing different flower meanings and experimenting with color combos—and the demon knows his regulars appreciate his efforts. the florist lets his familiar smirk soften into a more sincere smile whenever a regular comes in to the store, welcoming them by name.

yes, vox loves flowers. how ironic that a fearsome demon such as he now wears soft cardigans and tenderly cares for roses. but despite this stark contrast in his nature and his job, he doesn’t regret choosing this path. after all, it led him to you.

vox wasn't ignorant of your lingering glances. when you park your motorcycle and tug off your helmet, your eyes automatically land on his store across the street. it’s hard to ignore your presence when more than a few of his patrons have complained about the noise of your bike, but all he can think about is how breathtaking you look every day.

the demon puffs out his chest a little bit more, stands a little taller every time he feels your gaze on him. yes, he preens at your attention. sue him. on more than one occasion he’s considered walking inside your parlor for a tattoo just so that he could have an excuse to talk to you. luckily, he didn’t have to resort to that.

one late afternoon after the last customer for the day left, vox heard the small tinkling of a bell signaling an arrival. he poked his head out from behind a display, the words ‘i’m so sorry, but i’m afraid we’re closed for today’ on his lips when his eyes landed on your form. vox’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ in surprise, before he stood up straight and dusted his apron.

"oh, um, hello there,” he stuttered. internally, vox cursed himself. where did the suave voice demon go?

"hey yourself, handsome,” you purred, sliding up next to him. from this close, vox could smell your perfume and gods was it simply alluring.

"it's nice to finally put a voice to your face,” you say, cocking your head to the side.

"don't you mean, putting a name to my face?” he asks, sure that that was how the saying usually goes. you let out a melodic laugh at his question and vox was sure he couldn’t fall any harder.

"oh, i know your name, vox akuma,” you declare. “my coworkers go on and on about the handsome florist across the street.” the demon feels his face flush at your words, and curses himself for doing so once again. putting on a brave front, he smirked.

"this is a bit unfair then, no? i should get to know your name as well,” he bargains, leaning over slightly. his eyes widen in surprise when you lean closer as well, your eyes darting down to his lips before you meet your gaze again.

"i'll tell you if you agree to grab dinner with me?” you propose. vox doesn’t even have to think before he replies.

"let me close up the shop real quick and we can go. i know a great pizza place down the road.”

WRITTEN ! 081122

#luvxiem.writing #luxiem x reader #luxiem fluff #vox akuma x reader #mysta rias x reader #shu yamino x reader #ike eveland x reader #luca kaneshiro x reader #nijisanji en x reader #vox.txt #mysta.txt #shu.txt #ike.txt #luca.txt #hehe i lub aus #also hopping on the 'ike calls u swedish petnames' bandwagon <3 #can u guess who luca's receptionist was #anyways i like writing vox as being needy #vottom enthusiast is i #wink wonk #also also if u were wondering pink camellias mean longing aha *bits lip*

[ambersgems]

Bonded - Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Soulmate AU where you can feel your soulmate's emotions. When you meet, usually their name appears on your wrist.

A/N: This is my first written piece on here, so any feedback is appreciated/welcomed! It was kind of rushed so not my best work lol. I'm not sure if I want a second part to this or not, so let me know if you'd like to see a continuation. I also would love requests for anything Dean, Chris Evans characters, or Sebastian Stan characters! It can be blurbs, drabbles, or longer! Oh, also I imagine Dean being around 28/29 here while reader is approaching 25.

Word Count: 1.4K

Something was wrong. You knew as soon as your eyes flew open that you weren’t going back to bed anytime soon. Your hand was placed on your chest, heart beating increasingly faster as you laid in the dark. You tried to think back. Were you having a bad dream? No. This must be him. It happened more frequently than you’d like. You’d wake up in the middle of the night, heart pounding and palms sweating. Each time you could feel it, the danger. He was in danger. You just knew it. 

You wondered what he did for a living that would cause him to land himself in such terrifying situations so often. Was he in the military? Maybe he was an adrenaline junky or a storm chaser? Whatever it was, you found yourself silently praying that he survived whatever was causing his fight or flight response to trigger once again.

Swinging your legs off the side of the bed, your feet hit the cool hardwood floors and cause you to shiver. You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to stand and get out of bed to wander into the kitchen. You weren’t exactly sure if he felt your emotions too or not. How could you know if you haven't met him yet? There were times like now that you hoped desperately that he could. Maybe, just maybe, he could feel you trying to calm him in whatever capacity that you could. Sometimes that meant making chamomile tea and reading a book to try and lower his stress response or sometimes it meant a hot shower to relax the intense muscles you felt in your body from him. 

There were other times, however, that you hoped he really couldn’t feel your emotions the way you could feel his. He seemed to already have enough on his plate, with the intense nights and at times what could only be described as heartache. You didn’t know what he was going through, but you knew you didn’t want to add your baggage to it. 

So, when you cried at work the other day, you dried your eyes as quickly as possible, not wanting to burden him if he felt the same heaviness in his chest as you did. It was the same situation at home, though. You tried your hardest not to give into the depths of your lonely despair. After all, most of your friends had already found their soulmate, but yours seemed to be nowhere to be found. There were times that the only way to drown out the hurt was to just stay disconnected. When you weren’t actively trying to calm your mystery man, you tried your best to ignore him. 

You didn’t want to get your hopes up. There were plenty of people in this world who never met their soulmate, and they were left to live a life without them. You’d actually witnessed your friend’s first interaction with her soulmate. 

When you two were back at college, she was a barista at your local coffee shop, while you were a research assistant for one of your professors. You kept completely different hours, which is why on that particular day, you decided to hang out with her in the coffee shop to spend some more time with her, even if you were just studying at one of the tables. She had been anxious all morning, and you knew it wasn’t her emotions that she was feeling. She was a naturally confident person, never second guessing herself, but that morning she was a frenzied mess. She even told you herself that it felt like it was her soulmate and not her own emotions. 

After she had wiped down the tables for the billionth time that morning, a gangly and somewhat dorky guy came rushing into the shop. You could practically feel the anxiety buzzing from him as soon as he came in, pushing his dark framed glasses up his nose and clumsily slipping on the newly mopped floors. There was a loud smack, and the next thing you knew you watched as your friend reached her hand out to help the guy sit up. What really took your attention was the groaning that came from both parties. You watched them both wince in pain, looking down as they watched each other's names etch into the other’s wrist at the same time. It was like the world clicked into place for them both at that very moment. 

It turned out, Luke was a law school student, cramming for a very important exam that morning. His naturally anxious personality was quite the opposite of your friend’s, but they seemed to work together in harmony. 

Fast forward and they were still the picture perfect couple. He doted on her more than any man you’d ever seen, and she was head over heels for her nerdy guy. It was sweet, but you hated to admit how hard it was to be around them. You were happy for them both, but it stung to know that you were getting closer to the Age of Choice than you wanted to be. In a mere 8 months you’d be free to make a decision you never wanted to make.

Age 25 meant you were at what was called the “Age of Choice.” You could choose whether or not you wanted to marry your soulmate. If you hadn’t met them by 25, you had the right to choose someone else. You didn’t have to wait any longer to marry someone else, and somehow that hurt worse than not having met your soulmate. What if he had already reached the Age of Choice and he had already decided on someone else? The thought gripped your chest harder than you would like to admit. 

All of these thoughts ran through your mind as you made your tea in the kitchen, reliving your friend’s soulmate encounter and your fear for the future. You ran on autopilot as you thought about all of these things, finally making your way to the couch to perform your calm down ritual for your soulmate. It took all of about 90 minutes to feel like you had completely settled his nerves. By the time you had realized he had calmed down, you had fallen asleep on the couch.

This time your eyes flew open for a different reason. The loud blaring of your alarm was unwelcomed by your lack of sleep as you wandered back to your bed to turn it off. It was times like this you were glad you had a studio apartment. 

The morning seemed to get away from you. This time it was your turn to be the anxious party. You really couldn’t afford to be late to work this morning. Your boss had scheduled a very important meeting 15 minutes after the workday began and a day filled with projects that need to be completed “ASAP” as your boss would like to say. 

As soon as you entered the office, the atmosphere was different than any other day. You could feel it. Everyone seemed to be stiff and uncomfortable. You didn’t understand until two men turned around at the front desk. 

“You must be Miss Y/L/N?” the tallest one asks as your brows furrow. You didn’t recognize either of the two men, but you studied them as quickly as you could. 

“That’s me. Can I ask who you are?” you questioned, trying to be polite, but not wanting to deal with anything else this morning that you didn’t have to.

“I’m agent Smith and this is agent Jones, we are here to ask you a few questions about your boss,” the shorter of the two answered, reaching out and grabbing your hand.

You hiss and your eyes burn with tears as you look into his green ones, shock filling your body as you yank your hand away from his. Looking down, you see the name “Dean” etching itself into your wrist. Your hands shake as you look up at the tall man, confusion covering your face when you don’t see your name on his wrist. 

He groans, hand gripping his chest. He pulls at the buttons, looking down and seeing your name written right over his heart and underneath another strange looking tattoo. Your mouth falls open as your eyes widen, swallowing thickly. 

“Well, sweetheart, looks like we’re not only soulmates, we’re bonded. And we need to have a conversation,” you hear ‘Dean’ say gruffly, a smirk dancing on his lips.

Tagged by request:

@imaginedreamwrite

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #spn #spnfandom #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester drabble #requests open #taking requests #chris evans #chris evans characters #sebastian stan #sebastian stan characters #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester/reader #supernatural

[thegaangneedstherapy]

Zukka fic list part 2

On ice we fall (in love)

Zuko and Sokka rivals to friends to lovers slowburn competitive figure skating AU.

Foolsong

Zuko is an idiot trying to get over a breakup, Sokka is a hockey boy, and online dating isn't really that awful.

Blue

Iroh insists they create a new life and identity in Ba Sing Se. Zuko wants nothing more than to bide his time until his next opportunity to return home, until he realizes ‘Lee’ can get away with things Zuko never could.

Zuko dons the mantle of the Blue Spirit again only to los e his focus when the Avatar comes to the city. This time, however, his attention is drawn to the annoying Southern Tribe warrior.

winter solstice: an addendum

Zuko gets imprisoned with Sokka and Katara during the winter solstice, and some very unfortunate things come to light. Alternatively: the gaang kidnaps adopts Zuko in book one after discovering just how awful his father is.

I'll Come Back Someday (For You)

“We’ll be together someday. I won’t stop looking until I find you again.”

Those words, Sokka thought, were a blessing.

After living through several lives without Zuko, they now feel like a curse.

They were the last words Sokka muttered to the Fire Lord on his death bed after saving Avatar Korra from an attempted kidnapping, and while he meant them, he didn't know that they would come true.

Yet, he tried, tried, tried again, and after cycling into his fourth life, he's starting to give up hope.

All until he walks into the Jasmine Dragon right next to Republic City University's campus.

(i'm sorry but) i'm just thinking of the right words to say

Zuko is the last person Sokka expects to end up as his roommate when he starts college. Sokka is the last person Zuko expects to befriend when he starts his whole life over. And no one who knows a thing about their shared past expects them to end up together. Except, maybe, Toph.

There's Bound To Be A Ghost At The Back Of Your Closet

Zuko needs a new dad, and Hakoda volunteers. A story spanning Zuko's old life, new life, and beyond

running right back to you

the air conditioning stops working at the Jasmine Dragon, and it's miserable until a cute stranger makes it a bit more bearable

Sorry, I Have to Move to Alaska!

Following a lengthy legal battle with Ozai, Iroh has full custody of his niece and nephew. Desperate to get Zuko and Azula away from Ozai (just in case) Iroh buys a tea shop in Anchorage, Alaska.

Sokka has been living in Anchorage since birth and nothing interesting ever happens in this city. Except less than a month into this school year, the mysterious new kid with a facial scar beats up a well-known student in first period.

purrfect for each other

because sometimes, it takes going to a cat café four times to realize you're in love with your best friend

The World We Dream About

A HS Theatre Kid AU where the gaang is in Hadestown, featuring all our favorite high school nostalgia moments and way too many tropes

when i'm set alight

“I’m going to go practice some firebending forms,” Zuko says stiffly, running a hand through the tangles in his hair. “Tell Aang to join me if he wants to once he wakes up.” Gold eyes dart up to where Aang had strung up a makeshift hammock and was still sleeping soundly, snoring like a buffalo yak.

“Alright,” Sokka says, watching as he walks out without another word, evidently having reverted back into his usual brooding self. “Have fun!” He calls after Zuko loudly, which he means to be sarcastic, but comes out painfully, embarrassingly sincere. His face burns, and as soon as Zuko passes out of sight into the the temple, Katara turns to him, leveling him with a Look.

“You like him.” She says, and it’s not a question.

Born Lucky

Zuko knew this would happen one day.

He really should've prepared better.

Of course, he'd imagined something like this many times. He'd see him-- or anyone from high school, really-- and he wouldn't even be recognized. They'd be immediately enamored with him and wouldn't even pause to think he looked like that one girl from high school.

Instead, he has a 24-year-old Sokka cradling a swollen wrist and smiling awkwardly up at Zuko.

like we're made of starlight

When former High Imperial Prince and Sith Acolyte Zuko defects to the rebellion Commander Sokka is tasked to keep an eye on him and bring him into the fold.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #zukka #zuko #zuko x sokka #sokka x zuko #zukka fic rec #fanfiction #sokka #zukka fanfic #trans zuko #long post #ao3 link #archive of our own #ao3

[velvetwyrme]

So Flipping Fate is my favorite Underfell Papyrus fic but what is your favorite UF! Papyrus fic?

AH 🥺❣️❣️ First off, thank you so much!! I'm glad you're enjoying Flipping Fate! :D!!!

Secondly, there's no need to apologize- my fav/s are definitely in the list you mentioned, but I'm more than happy to answer again here :]!! My favorite UF!Papyrus fic has GOTTA BE Thunderstruck. Absoluuuutely killer characterisation and development, delicious interactions and writing... I love it dearly 💖

Other notable fics (probably also in the list lololol) include; A Smile from the East and Roadside Attraction. ASftE made me fall in love with UF!Pap back in the old days of fandom, and Roadside Attraction made me adore him once again when I returned.

And since you asked so nicely, here are some more (sfw) UF!Pap/Reader recs that. also may or may not be in the list idk I didn't actually go back and check lol

Becoming Edge is a fic all about finding yourself and your identity through fashion and was instrumental in me doing the same. Really sweet!!! Pastel goth Edge... my beloved.

And speaking of pastel goth- My Soulmate is a Pastel Goth (And Other Concerns) is a enemies-to-friends-to-lovers fic with the added elements of Soulmates ✨! Love me some tempestuous soulmate fic. (Note: this fic also features Fem!Frisk as Sans' soulmate in the bg, so if you're not a fan, that's something to note ^^! Fr//ans isn't quite my thing, but tbh I'm really interested in seeing how things turn out for them here!)

Between a Rope and a Wrench, or; this skeleton is buying a lot of really weird, suspicious stuff but you will help him get it because it's your job and later because you're his friend. (Also, you choose his friendship over the possibility that you may become an accomplice in murder.)

Sound of Blooming... MAFIAFELL 💥💥!!!! It's been a bit since I read it but it's in ny bookmarks so... :3c!

A Home for Mending Souls is actually a UF!Bros/Reader, but it still counts. It's really good!! Healing from trauma! Soft moments! Slowly opening up to one another!

Till it Brews Over is a coffee shop AU where you purposefully misspell the name of your asshole regular, who just happens to be one edgy skeleton.

Also for additional fics that star UF!Pap that I enjoy/have enjoyed:

While I was looking for one of these fics it led me to realise that I STILL haven't read Fight Me! (by MsMk- not be confused with Fight Me! by Little_old_lady, which uses the same premise and is also really good, but it features FS!Sans instead of UF!Pap) Anyway, this is truly a travesty because they're a fantastic writer and I can only assume it got lost in my various open tabs >>"!! [Addition while drafting: I LOVE IT he's so sulky... I'm staring warily at the chapter count though. So much time for things to Go Wrong]

I actually really like UF!Pap in Bitty Hunt- his characterization is very much... reminiscent of that era of fic, but all the scenes with him in it are ones that have been seared into my brain !!

Another new-ish fic that I'm enjoying UF!Pap in is Honey Lemon Tea, which the summary succinctly describes it as "Papyrus finds his Grillby's... in the form of a very plain coffee shop.", and which I will less-succinctly describe it as "Anti-harem with a delightfully mysterious barista, with the obligatory awful gf"

Edit: I cannot figure out why for the life of me but the formatting looks REALLY weird on my end, but in the editor it's fine?? So if it looks weird/out of order to you please excuse this post, it seems to be some Tumblr Fuckery

#i WOULD have included 'Love? I Think Not.' purely for UF!Pap's characterisation but uhhhhhhhhh the fic (and series) is pretty much- #everything but UF!Pap/Reader lololol #i Do live for his relationship w/ Kei in that though. my little heart. i love thems. #anyway i excluded my ns//fw fic recs because uhhhhhhhhhhh this blog is meant to be Mostly sfw but if ur interested (and 18+) you can always #- hop over to my other blog and inquire there LMAO. i have tons #fic recs #doozis fic recs #underfell!papyrus #underfell papyrus #anon #inbox