#bookstore season is here

[amu-says-hav-says]

okay not to make myself sad here or anything, but what if Aziraphale stopped and looked back at the elevator because he was hoping Crowley would recognise his fear after hearing about the second coming and would rush over and rescue him, as he always does, and when Crowley didn't Az knew he'd really fucked up.

#good omens #good omens s2 #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens season 2 #good omens spoilers #ineffable husbands #ineffable divorce #just here to cry don't mind me #first watching it felt like Az was just conflicted #and ofc I was still hopeful he was going to turn back #but now rewatching already knowing what happens #I wonder if he was too scared to 'rescue' himself at that point #then realised it was too late #he'd missed his chance for Crowley to rescue him #we see from the bookstore battle #Az is v short-sighted when it comes to plans #because he relies on Crowley always coming back to save him #this time it's his turn to make that leap of faith #and... he falters. he's too scared. #ofc they're so out of sync by then Crowley doesn't see it #he just sees Az making up his mind #choosing heaven over him #even as he waits there. giving him the choice to turn back. #'not to make myself sad' makes myself sadder

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Pt III good omens but i STILL SOMEHOW haven't watched it (and i'm increasingly passive aggressive)

i'm now basically held hostage adopted as mascot by this fandom. it's fine i'm fine *SIGNALS FOR HELP DESPERATELY*

Alright fuckers I swear this time I'm going to get some shit right. Without further ado, here's my third attempt at a good omens summary:

Everything everywhere is queer all at once

Angel Aziraphale and demon Crowley on earth likey each other

The car is a bentley and it is BLACK not silver and everyone is very upset about this. my bad yall it was reflecting light therefore i guessed more silver than black but I'm not Anish Kapoor take your black.

Then it is yellow, and aziraphale likes it. crowley preferred the black because he's a flamboyant emo.

God is a deadbeat absentee parent and you are all children of divorce.

There's a naked archangel and they cause problems for the husbands somehow. By being naked? By being an archangel? By being at their doorstep? Who knows not me

They were actually married for 6000 years, they just are the last to know about it.

Crowley is on fire. Like, he's slaying for sure, but also he is literally on fire, like Aziraphale's bookstore.

The actors like I said before are Michael Sheen and David Tennant but this is the place where I finally admit that I don't actually know who is whom. I'm going to assume Michael is Aziraphale because Michael sounds angel-y and David is Crowley because uh Michaelangelo made David and was gay for him.

Terry Pratchett is not fictional.

He co-wrote the book with @neil-gaiman, who IS fictional, because he does not have social media. Several of you have assured me that he is in fact a fandom inside joke. I like to think he would be proud of me.

They adopt a preteen and Crowley gives him bad advice.

At some point a baby was delivered to someone and was exchanged for the son of Satan. Idk if the baby is the preteen, or the son of satan is the preteen, or neither. This could be a fanfic, I have no way of differentiating the fanfic from canon on tumblr, except that the canon is weirder.

Crowley does not go down a chute. He goes down a telephone cord after making himself microscopic to pole dance on a pin with shroom-induced backgrounds.

During this his stage name is Disco Tony. Get it king go slay you're making better life choices than I am tbh.

Aziraphale is a biblically accurate angel, and you have all gone to extensive lengths to prove this to me. I understood nothing, but there you go.

It's all very queer, just like the fandom.

Crowley is a retired demon but he still sins by breaking the speed limit.

They eat at fancy restaurants and bicker but like in a sexual undercurrent way.

Crowley gives Aziraphale a private dance that is not a lap dance, it is an apology dance, but not in a kinky way, until it is.

Their haircuts keep changing and range from 'this is acceptable and gay' to 'i let a drunk chimpanzee take gardening shears and a blowtorch to my hair'

It's all ineffably queer my good fellows

Everyone keeps trying to convince me Neil Gaiman is the villain yeah no guys I know it's really you. Y'all be like 'SEASON TWO BROKE ME' and then you're making headcanons to make it sadder yeah I see you mmhm.

There is a final fifteen. It is sad. What is it? No one told me.

The demon turns goats into crows and the angel turns them back and then children are turned into newts (does the angel turn them back? who cares not yall) and the demon was the snake in the Eden garden and everyone's furry game seems to be on point.

There are a rather lot of children. I have not seen them. But I am assured they are there. They are, guys. I assume they were turned into the alcohol Aziraphale and Crowley drink or something.

There was an apocalypse plotline. It was averted. It is not important. You don't talk about plotlines in this fandom, no sir.

Crowley doesn't want to go to heaven. Aziraphale is sad.

The kiss is not nice, just like this fandom. It is queer, just like this fandom. It is sad and desperate and masochistic, just like this fandom.

Aziraphale doesn't want to stay back with Crowley. Crowley is sad.

Season 2 ends. Fandom is sad.

Everyone's sanity is hinging on the promise of a happy ending in season 3. Good luck guys.

Y'all better appreciate this. I can't even boast to my mother about this legacy of mine, hey mum your son has been held hostage kidnapped inducted into a cult adopted by a fandom he's not part of look he's winning at life.

#good omens #good omens fandom #ineffably queer #good omens summary #good ineffable omens #aziraphale #crowley #azirafell #aziracrow #azirowley #aziraphel #just tumblr things #masochistic fandom #we could have been us #tell me you said no #angel #demon #unforgivable #wall slam #6000 years of pining #queer #lgbtqia #accurately summarised good omens #reblog at your peril to ruin someone else's life #deadbeat parent #absentee parent #aka god #lot of gay eye contact #ineffable husbands #god's plan doesnt exist??

[solaireverie]

op81 | best he'll ever write

summary: [ author!oscar piastri x f!driver!reader — social media au ] being the partner and muse of a celebrated author means that fans start connecting the dots sooner rather than later

faceclaim: gracie abrams

author’s note: i'm secretly a ya romcom book girlie and i feel like that shows SO MUCH in this fic 🙈 delusional for life!

[ masterlist / guidelines / lola's masterlist / series masterlist ]

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, liakblock and 534,230 others

geotag: melbourne, australia

yourusername short break down under 🐨

view comments

user great race at the australian gp y/n!

↪ user first points of the season let's goooo

↪ yourusername and hopefully many more to come 🙌

logansargeant STRAYAAA 🦘🇦🇺🦘🇦🇺

↪ yourusername VEGEMITE ON TOAST 🤤

↪ user sometimes i forget that logan and y/n are both gen z 😂

user the puppy is so adorable 🥺

↪ user i wonder whose it is 👀 y/n's said that her schedule doesn't allow for pets

oscarpiastri not my birthday cake...

↪ yourusername sorry not sorry 😉

↪ user who the hell is oscar piastri and why is y/n replying to his comment 😭

↪ user don't you talk about my favourite best-selling author like that 🤺

oscarpiastri has added to their story

seen by yourusername, logansargeant, jennyhan and 124,203 others

you replied to oscarpiastri's story

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, landonorris and 3,393,210 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername can't believe that little kid is now a 3-time nyt best-selling author 🥹 so proud of you oscarpiastri 💗 i haven't been able to put eighty-one seconds down 📖 available in bookstores near you!

view comments

user i love how y/n always supports and promotes oscar's books 🥺

↪ user they're so adorable together my heart can't take it

oscarpiastri Thanks for the encouragement. Couldn't have done it without you 👍

↪ yourusername damn right you couldn't have 😤

user okay but who took the photo of y/n 👀

↪ user i'm betting it was oscar 😜

↪ user hello what 😳😳😳

↪ user oh my sweet summer child...

liked by yourusername, hachetteaus, johngreenwritesbooks and 293,192 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri Thank you to everyone who's been on this journey with me. Eighty-One Seconds is finally yours and we can't be more happy to share it with you. As many of you have guessed, it is my homage to Y/N and all the time we have spent together. My wife, my love, my heart. I'm grateful that you're in my life. Forgive me for re-using my words, but here's to eighty-one more years together.

view comments

user hold on a damn second 🤚 his WIFE??? when was this a thing 🧐

↪ yourusername 🤭

↪ user give us answers please 🙏 i haven't had peace since oscar posted this

yourusername i love you too, oscar jack piastri 🤍

↪ user oh he literally named his mc after himself 😭

↪ user GOODBYE??? JACK AS IN HIS MIDDLE NAME??? oh my god they really weren't subtle

williamsracing signed copy when 😏

↪ hachetteaus already on its way 🫡

user honestly i'm surprised they managed to hide their relationship for this long 💀

↪ user oh they did NOT we were just blind

↪ logansargeant I didn't find out until I got the wedding invitation in the mail 🤝

↪ landonorris i think that's just cause you're oblivious mate 😂

↪ logansargeant what???

↪ landonorris they literally make out all the time in williams hospitality

↪ yourusername lando... 😒

user if your man isn't writing a book professing his love for you, what's he doing with his life?

↪ user oscar's set the standard 😌

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

taglist: @scenesofobx @vellicora @boiohboii @julesbabey @flannelforthetoads @misartymis @c-losur3

#solwriting #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #f1 social media au #f1 imagine #f1 smau #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfic

[neil-gaiman]

Hey Neil! All your asks are about Good Omens! Does nobody know you wrote and created a whole mess of good stuff anymore? Neverwhere!!! American Gods!!!! Stardust!!! Norse Mythology...Okay you didn't create that as much as make it come to life...Hey that's an American Gods thing, the old gods made to live again! You even narrate my life when I am in a state of internal dialog. I blame that on your audiobook readings. Though I have trouble hearing you say my cat's name Jehoshaphat The Mongrel Cat or Joe for short. Anyway thanks for the talk, make sure you tell these kids about the old days, when guys like me had to go two or *gasp* even three bookstores to find your books sometimes.

When Sandman came out last year all my asks were about Sandman. It's seasonal here. Sooner or later all my asks will be about Dead Boy Detectives. Not to worry.

[sleepy-vix]

i've participated in so many tag games, i think it's about time i make my own

use this order and insert images according to how you view yourself!

1. Animal

2. Place

3. Plant

4. Character

5. Season

6. Hobby

7. Colour

8. Crystal

9. Food

here's mine:

cat, bookstore, blue forget-me-nots (idk, i just picked a random image with blue flowers), angel devil (csm), winter, reading + listening to music, blue, moonstone, sushi

tags: @rosees3ray @starr-theoriginal @doing-ur-mum-pt2 @thelovelyvie @urlocalsadkid-l @sad-trash-pigeon @carbonbasedmatter @toxictidepod241 @robinheaney12 @believeinavocado @just-sarah-xx @ali-da-demon @koi0boi @ch1ckpeapancake @rosetintedgreyspaces @dramaticwriter @butterfliesareamyth @bluewrite + anyone who wants to join /np

#tag games #about me #sleepy vix

[malusokay]

Little things to look forward to this Autumn 

Reading while cuddled up in soft blankets

Becoming addicted to tea again (I know I'm not the only one…)

Cute layered outfits with cosy knit sweaters and big scarfs

Foggy and gloomy mornings <3

Studying while listening to classical music

Switching from yoghurt bowl to oatmeal for breakfast

Collecting pretty dead leaves and putting them in your diary as a little memory

Adding cinnamon to your coffee again and making hot chocolate

Baking cinnamon rolls with friends (or at least trying to...lol)

Seeing the first leaves change colour

Buying cute stationery for the new semester

Maroon nails and lips (the girls that get it, get it.)

Reading at night, all cuddled up while it's raining outside

Cinnamon or vanilla-scented candles

Spending hours at cosy bookstores and reading poetry

Soup season. SOUP SEASON.

opening the windows in the morning and letting the cool autumn air inside

Rewatching Gilmore Girls and dressing like Rory (same thing every year, let's be real here…)

Being a cosy girl doing cosy things <3

Let me know what you're looking forward to the most; autumn is such a beautiful season... lots of cosy content planned!! ;)

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

#malusokay #girl blogger #dream girl #aesthetic #it girl #coquette #pink blog #that girl #pinterest #pink pilates princess #back to school #romantizing school #college life #autumn aesthetic #autumn #fall aesthetic #fall vibes #chaotic academia #light academia #dark academia #harry potter #study aesthetic #rory gilmore #gilmore girls #girly things #girlblogging #loa blog #romantize your life #lana del rey #booklr

[drvscarlett]

Let him cook pt 2

Charles Leclerc x Masterchef!reader

Series Part: 1

taglist: @bookstore-of-dreams @barcelonaloverf1life

CharlesLeclercUpdates posted a photo.

CharlesLeclercUpdates Charles Leclerc appeared in MasterChef Australia episode "Cooking to Survive"

User1 Ariana what are you doing hereeeee??

User2 I thought only f2 drivers were allowed for that, why was Charles wandering around

User7 In his defense, Ollie was with him. Maybe Ollie got invited and Charles tagged along.

User3 Okay but did anyone notice how his eyes lit up when Y/N talked to him. The boy was whipped!

User8 Charles can't get Y/N, he can't even cook User9 Agree User8! Besides Y/N has a long-time boyfriend, they are super cute. Do you all not watch the different challenges she dedicated to him?

Y/NCooks posted a photo.

Liked by Charles_Leclerc, friend1, and 255,000 others.

YNCooks what a stunning day! We won today as the captain of the red team and coincidentally there was a red team 1-2 as well??? #AlwaysBetOnRed

User1 Mother you slayed!!! I was so surprised to see you at the GP!

YNCooks me too!! This is one of the best team challenges ever.

User2 Charles is on the likes. Charles is on the likes.

Charles_Leclerc Congrats on your win!!!

Y/NCooks Thank you! You too, you did great!!!

User3 The collab of this masterchef and f1 community is not on my bingo list.

User4 Y/N's boyfriend how are you feeling that Charles is stealing your girl away??

"Are you seeing this right now? They thought that I am stealing you away" Charles grumbles over the phone. You can't see him right now but you can actually visualize the frown lines forming and the soft scowl that he has on his face "Why would I steal my own girlfriend?"

"Oh mon ami"

"And did they even watch the episodes? Like couldn't they piece it together that I'm the one that you are referring to I mean the cake and then the adopted italian narrative" Charles continued to rant on

It was adorable to hear Charles like this. How you wish that you weren't just conversing over the phone, how you wish that you could be there for him right now.

"Y/N you still there?" Charles' voice brought you out of your musings.

"Yep, I'm still here. Just a little bit tired" you explained

"You had a really long day mon amour."He says "I'm really so proud of you. You are slowly achieving your dreams"

"As I am very proud of you Charles. You always shine the brightest when you are up on that podium. I wish I could be there on the front lines cheering for you"

"One day you will be"

There is a peaceful silence shared between the two of you. The thing about you and Charles was that you both understand that this is a better situation than being under scrutiny by everyone. Charles had his fair share of public relationship and he learned a lot from it. He just wanted to keep this as his for a little while longer.

"I love you, I'll see you soon" "Love you more honey"

Risotto challenge

You were not always having a good day in the kitchen and this is one of those episodes that you did not do well hence the elimination challenge. The judges commented that there was no problem with the dish that you made but it was simply not as risky as what the others did. So you are really driven to show them creativeness.

Charles was watching the episode with so much dread as he hears that the elimination dish is a reinvention of a risotto. He watched enough MasterChef season with you to know that this dish is the death dish aka the dish that usually sends people home.

He understands the dilemma that you are facing right now, play it safe and stick to the classic which means it won't stand out or play it risky and be booted for elimination.

"I'm making Quinoa risotto" that was your bold decision and Charles couldn't believe his ears.

"Mon amour, risotto is rice. Quinoa is not rice" Charles mumbled to himself

"I know its a big risk but I have to show them that I am a risk taker and that I am a MasterChef winner material"you confidently state in the interview.

It was a stressful few minutes to Charles as he watched how the judges has already decided that the idea of a quinoa risotto would be an utter disaster. Nevertheless, he saw the determination in your eyes and how you defended why you opted to go for a risotto.

"Do you often cook quinoa at home?" Matt asked as he and Jean Pierre White scrutinize your table.

"I don't really" you replied with a shy smile "Well truthfully I don't even know what quinoa is before my boyfriend introduced me to it. It was a part of his diet so I went ahead and learn how to cook quinoa so he could eat"

This was new information for Charles and he felt warm with this new fact. He remembers how every time he visits you, there will be a variation of his diet meals that will ensure that he won't get bored of food and still be on track with his diet. He takes note that he will be grateful for that when she comes back.

"We're looking forward to taste that risotto" Matt says

Time went by and Charles let out a small sigh of relief after knowing that you completed your dish. Charles have full confidence with the dish that you made and he hopes that the judges will take a new perspective with this quinoa risotto.

"Quinoa is not a risotto" Marco Pierre White stated. It was all so menacing how he said it with flat emotions and a monotone voice. Charles could feel himself sweating as they tasted the dish.

"But this is another take that I will welcome" Another sigh of relief for Charles. He knows that you got this in the bag.

Cooking for a special someone

"We're now down to a challenge for the top two spots in the MasterChef kitchen, are you excited?"

Everything was so surreal. Starting from 20 and now they are down to the last 4 contestant. You were so grateful that you are another step closer to your dream of being a MasterChef winner.

"For this week, we will be bringing in some important guests who you will need to impress in order to secure a spot as a MasterChef finalist."

The contestants were asked to step one by one. You started to notice that they brought in their loved ones and you were fidgeting a bit because you don't know who they will bring out.

"Last but definitely not the least, Y/N step forward" Gary says "Are we gonna meet the boyfriend?"

"Oooh the boyfriend. We have been hearing about him for ages now" Matt teased

"The boyfriend is very busy" you replied as you remembered that he is probably in America right now.

"Oh cmon, cant he miss out a day or two"

"Its a job hazard to miss out a few days" you answered. It's all about the points so you really can't fault Charles not wanting to miss a single day at work.

"Okay in that case, our mystery guest for Y/N is............."

The MasterChef door opens and you were surprised to see not one but two Leclercs.

"What are you doing here down under?" you asked as you gave them a hug

"We're going to support you obviously!" Arthur grinned

It was weird because this was the first time that you will be with Arthur and Lorenzo with cameras rolling. You were nearly in tears when you hugged the two of them. Without even asking, you knew right away that Charles sent them since he will be busy with the races.

"And who are they to your life Y/N?" the judges asked

"This is Arthur and Lorenzo, they are very close friends. They treat me as if I'm one of their own" you smiled.

"I'm sure you are going to be inspired to cook now that you have them around"

The pressure was definitely on especially when you were told that there is a need to present 2 dishes, one sweet and another savory in 75 minutes. However, you were pumped to hear the cheers coming from the balcony as Arthur enthusiastically showers you with compliment while Lorenzo takes photos.

Charles, on the other hand, has been constantly checking his phone, now that he is done with free practice. He felt quite jealous that his brothers were able to see you and support you in person. Although, he was quite happy that they are having the time of life supporting you.

Lorenzo texted him about 30 minutes ago that they will be judging and eating the food that the contestants made. He was slowly getting impatient of the results, he wanted to know what's going on.

1 new text message.

Lorenzo: She got in! She's a finalist!!!

#charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x oc #charles leclerc fluff

[carolmunson]

wake up slow | barista!steve harrington

entry for my fall frenzy requests this request comes in from @superblysubpar: 'there's a scenario with bookstore / library date AND a dialogue prompt that says "what are you reading?"' with steve harrington summary: it's 1990. you're on the opening shift at the bookstore you work at, only to be surprised at a newcomer claiming to be up for an interview for the open barista position in the cafe at the back. sort of put off to start, it's no surprise when things start to bloom over time, and i'm not talking about coffee grounds. tl;dr carol writes a mini romcom.

tw: minors dni, there's nothing too out of whack in this one but i still don't want minors in here. reader is a little sassy but also like, pretty normal overall.

That damn key jams every time it rains -- doesn't help that you left your umbrella at home. Doesn't help that the 'light mist' turned into a heavy downpour the closer you made it to the book store. Doesn't help that you had to park a street over because of street cleaning and had to walk a block in the rain. Now the damn key.

"Come on," you grumble, jiggling an wiggling to no avail. Insert, r-insert, slight tilt to the right, jiggle, pull out a little, turn a little left and then -- nothing. You take the key out only for it to fall to the ground with a fairy like tinkling.

"Come -- the fuck -- on," you nearly growl under your breath while your coat gets heavier and heavier with rain, hood soaking through and dripping water onto your face. You bend down to get the key with a sigh meant for people with back pain, coming back up again to see the coffee bar manager on the other side of the glass door. He chuckles, salt and pepper beared thick over his chin and cheeks. Ruddy skin beams red even in the cool grey light of the morning, 30 years a butcher who pivoted into coffee when he turned fifty and had a really good knack for it.

"Easy morning?"

"Does it look like one, Carl?" you ask, stepping in when he opens the door. He laughs again, a hearty belly laugh that might as well have transported him into a Santa suit in December. "What happened to you?" he asks, following you into the back room where you start putting your stuff in your cubby. You switch out your wet sneakers and socks for the platform loafers and knee highs in your bag. Now that the fall weathers hit, it's all corduroy and knit sweaters, circle skirts and tall socks. If you're going to be on your fifth year working at an idyllic bookstore, you might as well look the part.

"Weather app lied, street cleaning, forgot an umbrella," you shrug, "Just another manic Monday, y'know?" "I know," he nods, "Gimme one second." Carl comes back with a white paper cup and black lid that makes you smile from the inside out, "Is that what I think it is?" "Isn't it always?" he smiles, "I got it ready the second I saw you on the schedule. Caramel latte, hint of cinnamon. Since its -- ya know, fall officially, I put a little maple in there, too." "You spoil me," you sigh, taking the cup from him and letting the warmth radiate through your hands.

"I do," he nods, "But, that latte was the last of my regular milk so I need to run out and grab a few gallons before we open up. You okay to be hangin' out by yourself?"

You nod, of course you're okay to be hanging out by yourself. You take the first sip, letting the caramel flood your tongue. The maple is a good addition. You're about to tell Carl to add this to the seasonal menu but he's already out the break room door with his coat before you can. You hear the jingle of the bell and the lock of the door and eventually the silence settling into the store around you.

You start to re-organize the window display which should've been done last night but 'last night you' said that 'this morning you' could handle it. You wish you could punch last night you in the face, but this is what you get for taking an assistant manager position.

You stack the back to school reads next to your knees where you're sat on them. The dust billows when you move them, making you sneeze with each turn of your head. You rub at your eyes, realizing at that very moment that the mascara you put on this morning has now definitely smudged -- you can't even find the emotional capacity to check considering the store opens in forty five minutes. You wipe down the display shelves, letting the oak gleam under the spot lights. The color is a warm reminder of the cozy moments to come the way that they do this time of year. As you start separating the 'cozy reads' from your 'spooky reads' in the pile on the other side of your knees you hear a knocking at the door --that's not very like Carl to forget his key.

You look over your shoulder, not seeing Carl at all, and if it is, he had some kind of Seventeen Again magic happen to him in that time at the store. You stand up, wiping off your knees and straightening your skirt before getting to the door where the rapping continues against the glass. "We aren't open yet!" you call out.

"M'here for Carl!" you hear, muffled through the panes. "For the barista spot?" you yell back. The guy nods under his hood, the rain picking up in heavy sheets. You sigh, unlocking the door and letting him in. "Carl's not here, he ran out to get some more milk but um, you're welcome to wait in the break room if you want," you explain, wiping a palm over another display through the main hallway and wiping the dust off on your hip. "Thanks," he says, hood coming down to reveal a head full of thick chestnut hair. A gold ring shines on the the hand that runs through it, looks like a family crest type, right on his middle finger.

"I'm Steve," he says with a smile, hand now outstretched to take yours. You look at it and then at him, finally taking in the sight before you. Prominent straight nose, warm amber eyes, lips that definitely use chapstick regularly. He has a nice smile, the kind you read about in the romance novels in the back of the store, the kind people write about.

You take his hand and introduce yourself, he has a business major handshake and you only know that because you dated a handful of them back in college. You try to stifle a chuckle but it comes out airily out of your nose.

"Something funny?" he asks when you both let go. "No, no, sorry, I just thought of something from the other day," you shake your head, "Don't worry about it." He nods, taking off his coat and closing his umbrella following your lead to the back, "It's a cute place."

"Yeah, it's nice in the morning," you nod, "I normally close but -- doing a favor for a key holder today; so you have the pleasure of seeing the troll of the store in her natural habitat."

"What?"

"Nothing -- nevermind," you shake your head, cheeks burning with a wave of embarrassment when you look back and notice that he's genuinely very handsome. You get to the break room, pointing out the spare cubby where he can hang his coat and umbrella. He's in a sweater you swear you've seen on the Cosby Show -- dark green and patterned, a perfect combination of colors against his skin. It cuffs at the wrists, you can see a sliver of his white t-shirt underneath at the collar, a whisper of a gold chain tucked beneath it.

"Yeah um," you start, feeling your heart start to patter in your chest when he takes a seat at the table by the cabinets, "You can just wait here. I'll let Carl know when he comes back."

"Okay," he smiles, "Thanks."

You nod again, heading into the employee bathroom to collect yourself for a moment -- seeing your reflection. You forgot you had rubbed your eyes, masacra smudged in black smears nearly down to your cheeks. "I look insane," you whisper in horror, "Oh my fucking god."

You cover your face for a moment, trying to hide yourself from the embarrassment racking your chest. Definitely looking like the troll of the store, you silently scream into your palms, another dramatic whisper of, "I should just fucking kill myself."

Despite the humiliation, you know it's funny. This would happen to you. This hot guy would come in when your mascaras a mess and your hair is fucked up from the rain, when the weather is bad and your tights have a run, when your allergies are rampant from the dust. Of course he would!

You wet a paper towel and do your best to wipe off the smudges, happy to look a little less insane after a dab of tinted lip balm makes it onto your lips and cheeks.

When you re-emerge he's fiddling with his CD player and his over ear headphones, working on a knot in the wire. You go back over to the counter and take a sip of your forgotten latte.

"What do you drink?" he asks.

"Carl makes it special for me, it's not on the menu," you tell him over the black plastic top before taking another sip. He grins, a soft nod moving his hair with him -- so it's like that. "I didn't ask if it was on the menu. I asked what you drink," he says, leaning back in the chair. His eyes lingering on you sends a zip up your spine, wondering if he's giving you a once over or not.

"It's a caramel latte with maple and cinnamon," you tell him. His confidence both intruiges and enrages you, both making you want to tell him to get out but also learn more about this hot guy that wants to be a barista with a Wall Street handshake, "So why do you wanna work here?"

"Is this the start of my interview?" he laughs.

"No, I'm just wondering," you shrug.

"I'm back in school about twenty minutes away," he says, "Did it for a little when I was in high school -- coffee, I mean. Ice cream shop after that, video store after that. Went to school, took a break, back in it. My dad thinks having jobs like this builds y'know -- character and whatever."

"Jobs like this?" you ask, jaw tensing with annoyance.

"Like, y'know, jobs with the people," he tries to explain, pink building on his cheeks when he realizes he might've said something shitty, "They're not like bad jobs, that's not what I mean -- I mean like, y'know -- not suits kind of jobs. Regular shit."

"Regular shit," you nod, biting back what you wanna say. That gold crest ring should've been enough to tip you off, but your next question is the ace in the hole, "What're you back in school for?"

"Getting my MBA."

Of course.

"Nice," you lie, fake smiling into your next sip -- the latte going cold as your insides when you come to the conclusion that he's just some hot grade A asshole, "Well, good luck."

"Thanks," he calls out while you make your way back to the floor, "I really like your name, by the way! It suits you."

You try not to let that compliment change your mind.

He gets the job, but you don't see him a lot. He opens an then goes to classes at night, you close most of the time -- only catching him really in the first hour of your shift and the last hour of his. You're both too busy to be finding time to talk; him with his mid-shift clean and you with your hourly sales goals and mid-day schedule re-adjustments.

But he does wave when you come in. He calls out your name when you bustle past the coffee counter and weave through the tables to get to where you need to go. It's nice of him, you guess, but the stain of him explaining that the job he's doing is just for regular people taints it for you. Maybe he thinks you're just some menial worker bee that he only knows for now, since his daddy probably has a job lined up for him once he pays through his masters degree.

Job with a suit where the bookstore will be a distant memory for him, whereas you're on a two year track to becoming the manager and likely future owner when the owners get too old to manage it. Job with a suit where he'll pass by the store and shake his head at 'how stupid it was', a 'can you believe people work there?' head toss to a coworker while he get a coffee somewhere else. Meanwhile, it's your entire life, and so are all the stories inside.

A few weeks pass and the days get a little colder, the nights starting earlier as they go. You have an opening shift that chills your bones, hugging your wool coat tight to your body while you fiddle with the key at the door, groaning at the tinkling of it hitting the concrete again.

"Rough morning?"

You look up to the door opening, seeing a pair clean white Nike Air Force 1's singaling who it is.

"It is now," you mumble, grabbing the key and bustling inside.

"Surprised to see you here," he says, following you to the back, "You're not on the schedule." "Last minute switch up, Rochelle has a christening," you say, hanging your coat in the cubby and switching out your sneakers for platfoms again.

"Oh, nice," he grins, "So why is it a rough morning? 'Cause I'm here?"

"Sorta kinda," you shrug, "Did you alread--"

"I got sales report from yesterday on the check out desk, yes," he crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame.

"And th--"

"And the inventory report, and before you ask, yes I checked that all the milk is in stock and that we aren't low on beans. I've been here for a month, honey, I know what I'm doing," he mutters.

"Gross," you pull a face at him over your shoulder, "Don't call me honey."

He shrugs with a smirk, "Rochelle likes it."

"Can you go skulk to your caffeine den and leave me alone?" you snap, "I'm trying to open a store, here."

"Skulk, huh?"

"Too big of a word for you, Harrington?"

"You're on fire this morning," he smiles, that smile they write about.

"I kinda like it," he adds before turning out of the door and back into the warm light of the store towards the coffee bar. You swallow while you watch him leave -- I kinda like it ringing in your ears and floating down to your chest where is settles in, cozy and kind.

The reports are where he said the would be, neat and organized like he was the manager and Carl was his employee. You normally spent at least thirty minutes trying to figure out what Carl had written in chicken scratch on the forms, but Steve's sharp and elegant script was easy to read and perfectly spaced. Annoying.

Even his signature was handsome.

After you get the registers counted and ready you file the forms and mark the reports so they'll be ready for your manager when they get back in store. You check the list of what needs to be done, the chilly late October air swooping in from the cracks under the door. Your face sours while you make your way over to the coffee bar in the back, seeing Steve set up the pastry delivery in the cases on the side.

"Did you come back here to yell at me about something?" he asks, focused on the task at hand, "I got all morning."

"You didn't turn the heat on," you cross your arms, "That's like, the first thing you're supposed to do."

He scoffs quietly, shaking his head, popping back up to lean on glass of the case, "Did you read your morning report or just sit there and admire my handwriting?"

"Excuse me?" you bite back.

"Heats fucked," he shrugs, ducking back down to finishing his display, "They're sending someone to take a look at it later today."

"Whatever," you grumble, turning on your heel to go dust the front shelving and reshelf the returns from yesterday.

"Hey," he calls out, waiting for you to turn around before he continues. Your eyes catch his amber ones, sparkling with a mischief reserved for school boys who are mean to the girls they like, "You look nice today."

You look him over, sucking in your cheeks to kill the smile growing on your lips. His navy sweater hugs a bit across his chest and shoulders, giving way to billow slightly over his midsection and arms. Kahki chinos cut just at his ankles so his sneakers don't even look stupid paired with the outfit, socks just the right height to look cool and not forced. Awful.

"Yeah, you too Harrington," you agree quietly before walking away; and while you killed the smile, he was able to catch that crease in your eyes, the twitch in your shoulders. You thought that was nice, he wonders if he can make you do that again.

You head over to the back of the cafe during your break, no windows near your designated 'break chair'. It's close enough to the fireplace that it always feels like a rainy day even when it's nice outside. Now that Carl started his shift he got your drink ready to go the moment you walked over.

"Well la-di-da," Steve cocks his head when Carl walks over to greet the customer at the register, rag in his hands wiping up the pick up counter, "Expert service and you're not even gonna tip?"

"Here's a tip: leave me alone when I'm on break," you bite. Why did he have to be so handsome? Slight pink on his cheeks from the heat of the espresso and coffee machines, the lights overhead. The heat finally works again and it's almost working too well from the small bead of sweat forming above his brow. He runs a big hand through his hair again, the same way he did when you first met him. You try to ingore the way his bicep bulges in his sleeve when his arm stretches.

His tongue runs over his teeth, settling between them for a second before looking straight at you, "Good one."

"That's what you get when you read books," you say sarcastically, "You should try it sometime."

"You should teach me," he leans over the counter, resting his chin on his palm, "Bet you're a great teacher."

You bite your tongue, pulling in your lips and squinting your eyes to keep the smile from brewing a second time. You pick up your mug and sip your latte while he crosses his arms over his chest. "Nothing this time?" he asks, waiting for you second blow. You shake your head no, occupying your mouth with the rim.

"No?" He asks, you shake your head again, somehow glued to the spot under his stare. He slings the rag over his shoulder, still looking at you. "Well I don't wanna keep you standing here," he teases, offering you a wink that is so soul crushingly charming you could just die, "Enjoy your break."

You've never turned around so quickly in your entire life.

The following week you take another opening shift, happy to settle into the quiet of the cafe now that the morning rush of moms, dads, students, and aspiring writers have cleared out. The fire crackles just right, the leather warmed up to your body heat while the book sucks you in further an further. Thirty minutes pass when you hear a shift infront of you, the subtle squeak of leather being sat in with a soft crunch.

"What're you reading?"

You peer over the top of the spine to see Steve sat in the chair across from you, legs open wide while he leans his forearms on his knees. His long fingers slide together, gold ring shining in the light again to remind you of who he is and where he comes from. As handsome as he is today in his black henley and white t-shirt combo you'll never quite forget the fact that some MBA bro is perched in front of you like a puppy with nowhere to go.

"Sound out the cover, that should tell you," you boredly mumble before tucking back into the chair. His fingers peak over the spine, pushing the book down from the top. He pulls the leather chintz closer to yours with ease -- of course he does.

"Or you could tell me," he says with a softness you weren't ready to hear. Your chest gets warm again, creeping up your neck to your cheeks.

"It's Pride and Prejudice."

"S'that your favorite book or something?" he asks, elbow driving into his thigh so he can rest his chin on his fist.

"One of them," you shrug, "I always read it this time of year, kind of fits the mood of the season."

"Hm," he nods, like he's really listening, "What's it about?"

"Basically," you start, thinking of a way to describe it in two sentences or less, "It's like -- hm -- it's about two people, a love story. One guy is some super rich asshole and he's a jerk because the girl isn't as rich and him. And the girl isn't from the same social standing so she's a jerk because she already assumes that he's a super rich asshole. Like...I don't know, idiots in love who are too stubborn to love each other."

"Hm," he nods again, grin splitting his face, "Interesting."

"What's your favorite book?" you ask, wanting to wipe that smug grin right off his face. His dumb handsome face with that perfect sloped nose, and eyes that look like they're looking directly into you.

"I don't have one," he shrugs.

"You have to have one," you balk, "Like, even if it's one you read in school or something." "Hmm," he sits back up, leaning back in the chair with his hands resting just under his chest.

"You have to know how to read to run a business," you shrug.

"I know how to read, honey," he laughs, "I just don't have a favorite book."

"At least try," you ecourage, albiet annoyed. He taps his fingers on his diaphragm, one knee bouncing while he thinks about it. His shirt rides up just a smidge in the back, revealing a sliver of skin you didn't think you'd ever see.

"Shel Silverstein," he says finally, "Where the Sidewalk Ends."

"You didn't strike me as a poetry guy," you say, closing your book over your finger to hold your place.

"My mom went through this poetry phase -- and I'm my mother's son, so I had a poetry phase with her," he shrugs, "We wore that book out, think we had to get a second copy cause the first one was just like -- destroyed."

"Well that's...you know," you lean your head from side to side, "That's nice. It's cute."

"You'd know, right?" he smiles, that god damn smile Shel would write about in a new book. You'd bring back book burning just to throw it in the flames after it was published. He gets up, disappearing behind you for a moment and reappearing with your favorite green mug. He gingerly places it on the side table next to you.

"Compliments of the chef," he says, presenting it like a Michelin star meal.

You look at it, a perfect pour -- the cream rosetta leaf striking against the warm brown espresso. You can smell the caramel and maple already wafting off it, cinnamon sprinkled delicately on top.

"Um, thanks," you say quietly, taking the mug to your lips. He looks down at you eagerly when you take a sip, waiting for your reaction.

"Did you do something to it?" you ask before you take one.

"No I'm just -- damn, come on. I'm excited to see you try it," he sighs, "I worked hard on it."

"Fine, fine," you murmur, letting the latte flood onto your tongue. Its -- regrettably -- one of the best iterations of you've had in a while. The perfect creaminess without being too milky, enough caramel and maple without being too sweet, the espresso's bitterness cuts the sugar in just the right way to make it smooth. He knows he did it right by the way you go for a second sip without saying anything.

"I did good?" he quirks a brow.

"You did good," you nod.

"Good," he smiles, tapping the top of your chair, "'Cause Carl's putting it on the menu starting in November."

"How come?" you ask into your third sip, the steam billowing over your cheeks.

Steve lets his eyes flicker over your face slowly, offering a half shrug, "I told him to."

November brings the first pre-season snow, not that it mattered now that your favorite drink was a regular menu item now. Caramel and maple always in stock, espresso machine always on first thing in the morning.

You open twice a week now, seeing Steve more often than not. Dropping your key became less common now that he was normally at the door when you'd get there, ready to let you in.

"Another great day, right?" he'd tease.

Now that the holidays were in full swing the bookstore was busier than ever -- sales, bundles, events. You even started carrying children's coloring books and crayons in the kid's section; a whole set up just for kids to sit and color while their parent's browsed.

The stress was getting to you, constantly checking and rechecking the end of day sales versus last year, wanting to make sure everything was on a steady incline with a nice cushion for the next. It helped that the cafe seemed to be absolutely climbing in numbers since September. More and more people wanted to spend time over there, and the more time they spent the more time they looked at books or started reading. It wasn't shocking to see people checking out at the counter with a second coffee and a new book or two in hand.

You don't want it to be true, but you're sure the new barista had a play in what makes so many people stick around. You'd see the way Steve would flirt when he took orders, how he's listen to them intently, make every customer feel like they were the only person in the room.

At least that's how he'd make you feel when he caught your gaze from over the shelving, helping find books for new patrons from the college nearby. You both started to wave at each other at each passing glance, each look caught by surprise, each accidental yearning stare.

Mid-November greets you with a bitter chill, the very early morning doesn't even have the decency to greet with you the rising sun. It'll be atleast another half hour until then.

For the first time in a long time you don't drop the key, pushing into the store with ease. You waste no time turning the heat on, making sure the radiators bled a bit before hand. You rub your hands together while they settle in, putting your coat away in the cubby and switching out your shoes in the break room.

Opening on a Saturday morning isn't common for you, but it's the first event you've planned by yourself. A very simple read-along story telling with some kids from the neighborhood and their parents. You collected three solid winter time reads: The Mitten, The Snowy Day, and A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. A solid hour of reading while the parents could peruse, or sit and watch while their kids tuned into a book instead of cartoons on Nick Jr.

Once you've given yourself the onceover for the morning you feel more confident about the upcoming next few hours. Your knit tights fit snugly over your legs, a touch sheered out with the stretch over your thighs but the pleats in your plaid maroon skirt cover that just fine, hitting just above your knees -- still covered, still sensible. Still cute enough to snag a single dad if one were to show up.

Your feet stay tucked in a pair of worn in platform mary-janes stolen from your sister's New York City closet when you went to visit her over the summer. The chunky knit sweater over the whole ensemble completes you, a spitting image of a 'caught on the street' look you saw in a Seventeen magazine that you still get delivered to you despite being well past the age group.

You thrifted the sweater with Steve in mind, it looked like something he'd wear.

Anyway.

As you set up the 'reading rug' in the cafe area you hear the familar unlocking of the door. The sun finally starting to seep in in golden shards through the panes, leaving squares of light on the wood floors and carpets below.

"Hey Carl!" you call out, "I got everything up and running for you."

You hear the keys jingle but not his smoker's cough, not his heavy steps finding their way to the cafe area. Instead you look up to see Steve with his hands on his hips, watching you struggle to move the leather chintz to the back wall as your reading chair.

"Redecorating?" he asks, looking around the cafe. Under his shearling lined aviator jacket is an open hunter green flannel you wouldn't expect to see him in, his white t-shirt underneath hugs tights to his chest and stomach. You unfortunately noticed how great of a view that is for you.

"Um," you started, looking around the room and the dissaray you seem to have made without realizing, "Why are you here?"

"Same reason your here," he says, stepping forward to shoo you away from the chair, "I'm on the payroll."

"You don't work weekends," you say, crossing your arms over your chest while he lifts the chair over the rug with a soft grunt.

"I do today," he says with a slight strain, "Where do you want this?"

"Uh," you start, "Just right in the center against the wall so everyone can see me."

"Oh, so you're reading to the kids this morning?" he laughs to himself after putting the chair down. He wipes his hands off on each other, shrugging off the jacket and holding it in one arm, "Bitter Betty is gonna entertain the young minds of Main Street?"

"Bitter Betty, huh?" you challenge, following him into the back room, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what that's supposed to mean," he shakes his head.

"I am very sweet," you tell him, a serious edge to your voice, "There are so many customer reviews saying how sweet I am."

"Sure," he nods, putting his coat away in his cubby, "I bet there are; since y'know, you're selling them something."

"I'm not just nice when I'm selling something," you say softly, arms coming protectively across your chest. A frustration bubbles in your chest while you look at him, following him back out into the cafe so you can keep getting the place ready before the families start to show up, "You think you know everything."

"I don't," he shakes his head, smiling while he checks over the machines and gets the first pot of coffee started.

"Yeah, you do. You walked in here two months ago and swear you know everything," you huff, getting the cafe back to a place of organized coziness.

"Okay," he chuckles, "Whatever you say, boss."

"You're infuriating," you mumble under your breath.

"Got that caramel latte coming right up for you, by the way," he says warmly.

Your head turns to see him watching you, he smiles, "Maybe you're a little nicer after you've had a coffee."

You smile back, unable to stop it this time.

"So that's a yes, right?" he cocks his head, fingers drumming on the counter while he watches you. That Harringtom charm pumping out at full speed.

"Y-yeah," you nod, "Whatever. You gonna go chop down a tree, Harrington? What's with the flannel?"

He looks down at his shirt and then back up at you with a soft shake of his head, "I better hurry up and get that started for you."

The kids look up at you with starry eyes, their parents smiling along with their coffees, lattes, espressos, and pastries. The Mitten was a hit and The Snowy Day is so far showing up to be a great follow up.

You take your time to really point out the pictures and adding on to the story since all three of them are pretty short. However, you're finding that kids between two and five are pretty easy to entertain if you do enough counting and make enough sound effects. Maybe you should've been a kindergarten teacher -- or maybe not. Maybe you should just keep doing book events.

You're halfway through when you show the illustrations to the group again, listening to them ooh and ahh at all the snow.

"Did um -- Miss -- did you know -- it snowed? It snowed at my house," one of the older kids announces, arm straight up in the air.

"It snowed last week, Michael, that's right," his mom pipes up, "Daddy had to shovel outside."

"Has everyone else seen snow? Raise your hand if you've seen this much snow!" you announce in your perfect parentese, watching while the older kids and parents raise their hands. The two year olds don't really get it so they just sit there and laugh.

You look up at all the hands, an enthusiastic 'Wow!' coming out of your mouth -- but you barely hear it. Behind the hands are a set of warm amber eyes looking at you from the coffee bar, soft and gentle. Enthralled even. You swallow and lick your lips quickly before smiling, catching his smile back as you look back at the book to start again.

After each couple of pages you catch each other, the pink on his cheeks rising when he looks away -- pretending to be occupied with something else. Cleaning, organizing, resetting the espresso machine. He can tell you're flustered by the way you clear your throat whenever you start to read again.

After The Snowy Day you take a ten minute break so that the parents can take their kids to the bathroom or re-up their beverages. The tip jar is full to bursting because nobody knows how to make a single mom feel like Steve Harrington does; and husbands will pay anything to get him to leave their wives alone.

You reset your chair, making sure the books you're reading are on display for purchasing on the shelving close by in your Winter Children's Bundle for a discounted price. As the ten minutes closes up you feel a soft tap on your shoulder.

"Here," you turn around to Steve with a green mug in his hands, "It's just regular coffee this time, but -- figured you could use it."

You take it body first, reaching around for the handle only to feel his fingers brush against yours at the hand of. The soft touch isn't electric like it is in the books, it's like that but better. Warm like an oven, the gooey parts of you rising in a slow bake when you see him look down and turn away -- running that same hand through his hair on his way back to the counter.

"Thanks," you say over the chatter of parents and kids coming back to sit.

"Can I have something ready for you for your break?" he asks back.

"Surprise me," you shrug, sitting back on your chintz chair and taking the final book onto your lap. The kids cheer when they see Snoopy on the cover, a well loved favorite cartoon to finish off their morning. With the crack of the spine you can already smell the sales coming once this little event is over.

You work through your break, ringing up and helping customer after customer on easily one of the busiest Saturday's you've seen in a while. It normally doesn't get busy like this at least for another couple of weeks.

The stress of working through lunch barely matters though because your event was a bigger success than you could've hoped for -- logging in the notes for Rochelle that you should probably start doing this throughout the season just for good measure.

It's starting to get dark by the time your shift ends and the store closes -- early on Saturdays at a tight 4 PM. You let your sales girl go a little early, wanting to take the time to close up the store properly since you were the one who made it such a mess this morning. As you start to put the chairs back that had been moved from the cafe to the children's section you hear him, fingers tapping on the counter.

"You didn't come by for your break," he says, "And I put a lot of effort into that drink."

"Sorry, we can't all be flirting through our shifts like you can, Harrington," you snark with a grin, flipping the last chair over onto it's accompanied table.

"You don't have to clean up the coffee part of the store," he says, coming around with another mug in hand, "That's my job, y'know."

"I know," you say, "But I kind of fucked it up this morning so -- just doing my part."

"Well, here," he says, mug outstretched in his large hand, gold ring gleaming back at you, "For doing your part, I guess."

"You guess, huh?" you laugh lazily, taking it -- he places his fingers in a way that you have no choice but to touch them. You wonder if he did it on purpose, "What do you call this one?"

"'Surprise me'," he replies in a mocking drawl, flipping the rag over his shoulder again and leaning against the counter's edge. The first sip is unfortunately one of the most even temperatured hot drinks you've put past your lips.

"You're good at this," you blurt out, almost offended.

"Well don't look so upset about it."

"I am upset about it," you nod back over the lip of the mug, taking another sip. Mocha -- something. It's like hot chocolate and espresso but better, still caramel, still cinnamon, like a hug from your past but caffienated like your present.

"Consider me surprised," you nod, licking your lips again, "It's good -- it's um -- yeah. It's really good."

"Thanks," he smirks, "A few of the mom's thought so, too."

You let out a sigh through your teeth, rolling your eyes. He expected that, taking a step forward when your gaze comes back to center. You can smell the left over wraiths of his cologne and Old Spice deodorant, count the moles on his neck adorned with his hidden gold chain, see the hair on his forearms from his rolled up sleeves.

"You know something," he says quietly, "If I didn't know any better -- I'd think you like me."

"Like you?" you balk, eyes widening, "You wish."

He clicks his tongue when you get so defensive because it just proves him right. He crosses his arms with another step forward, head cocking to the side slightly while he sizes you up. Why did his creator need to make his forearms so beefy? So perfectly sculpted that you can't look at them without losing your train of thought? Stupid.

"I don't think I have to wish, honey," he says softly, Doc Martins creaking on the wooden floors, "I think...uh, I think I must allow you to tell me how ardently you admire and like me."

Your mouth falls open, staring at him with eyes as glassy at the kids who watched you read this morning.

"You -- no -- you read it?"

"Maybe," he says, another step forward, his arms bumping against your chest.

"Maybe?" you ask back, brow quirking.

"Yeah, maybe I did," he runs a hand through his hair, falling back away from his face to show off his sturdy brow bone, watching you with admiration down the slope of his nose.

He reaches down and takes the mug out of your hand with smooth finesse, arm long enough to reach back and place it on the counter behind him. When he leans back in place he's closer than before, toe to toe, nearly nose to nose.

"Maybe I bought it the day you told me about it," he shrugs, "Maybe I thought it was pretty close to something I had goin' on with a girl I know."

"A girl you know?" you challenge. You know exactly who he means, but it might be fun to hear him say it. "Yeah, sometimes I only see her like, an hour a day. But sometimes I get to watch her read on her break, sometimes I get to close with her on Saturdays," he explains warmly, the timbre of his voice deep against the crackling of the fire in the back corner of the cafe.

"This is the only Saturday you've closed with me," you counter, head tilting up slightly, close enough that the tip of your nose brushes his.

"Who said I was talking about you, honey?" he murmurs back, mischief in his eyes that are half hidden by his eyelids. You feel a puff of his breath over your top lip, still minty fresh like he just brushed his teeth.

"We both know you're talking about me," you smirk, self satisfied while his gaze flickers to your lips and back to your eyes. He steps at an angle, making you step back so you're against the pick up counter.

"So sure of yourself," he he scoffs quietly, leaning over you and getting into your space. Each hand coming to the side of you to lean on the granite, caging you in, "I like that in a pretty girl."

"Most do," you shrug matter of factly.

"Yeah," he nods, "Think that's what I like about you."

"Maybe that's what I like about you, too," you nearly whisper out.

"Maybe?" he asks, lower lip ghosting over yours. "Mayb--"

The hand he uses to run through his hair finds itself flat over the back of yours, sliding down to over your cheek and jaw where he keeps you angled just right. He closes the millimeters between you, warm lips catching yours in a kiss that feels like passion but a power play you want to match.

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, heads moving in soft tilts when you change angles. When you find yourself sat on the edge of the counter he uses the leverage to pull you close to him, hips between the fullness of your thighs.

His tongue skates over yours when it slides into your mouth, free hand ridding up the soft material of your tights, tips of his fingers inching under the hem of your skirt in an innocent tease.

Even the way he breathes through it is sexy, leaving you with a lingering guess of what he can do when he presses his lips against your neck. Tongue flitting and striping while he nearly nips a bruise onto your skin. You let out a gentle gasp, enough to admit defeat to him -- much to your chagrin. Steve comes back up to your lips to meet you with a few final deep kisses before you break apart.

He steps back once, the deep golden light of the sun setting cracks through the panes of the back window in the cafe, adoring him in a glow that shines of his hair and eyes. The kind of glow they write about, the kind of glow you read about.

You both take deep breaths, eyes hungry for each other -- unsure if you should go for more. He lingers, coming forward again to rest his hands on your thighs.

"I didn't read it," he confesses. "Pfffft. Why am I not surprised?" you huff, exasperated.

"But! But, but, but," he argues back, pecking you feverishly, "I had to go to like, five different places to find the movie from 1980 so -- I did actually put some effort into it."

"I love that one," you say back.

"I get points for that, right?" he asks expectantly.

"Yeah, fine. You're luck you're cute," you explain, "But you do definitely have to read it, at some point. If you wanna keep making out with me in the cafe after closing."

"Oh, absolutely," he grins, hand reaching to pull you in by the back of the neck for a final searing kiss, "You'll have to teach me, remember?"

You of course start closing together every single Saturday.

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #barista!steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington imagine

[corroded-hellfire]

My Favorite Elf - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: When you and Nancy go to the mall to finish up your Christmas shopping, the sound of a familiar voice leads you to a jolly surprise.

Note: I wrote this for @palomahasenteredthechat’s 12 Days of Joemas with the prompt “Is that velvet?” 💚❤️

Words: 1.4k

The holiday season at Starcourt Mall can be a chaotic nightmare on nights and weekends. Crowds so dense you can hardly see any of the mannequins modeling the latest looks at the GAP. It’s for this reason that you and Nancy decide to make a mall run straight from school one Tuesday afternoon. 

With most parents still at work and middle and elementary schools still in session, the mall is the calmest you’ve seen since before Halloween. You and Nancy plan on taking full advantage of getting all those last minute gifts you’ve been meaning to buy.

“Okay, I got the shoes,” Nancy says, jostling the brown paper bag in her hand in emphasis. “You wanted to go to Walden Books next?”

“Yeah!” you say. “I saw this book there the other day and I think Eddie would really like it.”

“Why didn’t you get it for him then?”

“He was with me,” you laugh. “As busy as it was, I still think he would’ve noticed me buying something.”

The bookstore is on the second floor, so you and Nancy have to take the escalators closest to the food court. Right before you lift your foot to hover over the silver steps, you hear a familiar voice coming from behind the escalators. 

“Are you ready? Come on, we’ll go up together.”

Your brow furrows in puzzlement, and Nancy turns to look at you with the same expression mirrored on her face. Together, you walk around to see what Eddie is doing at the mall and who he’s talking to.

A Winter Wonderland greets you and Nancy as you step around the towering escalators. The centerpiece is a life-size gingerbread house decorated with every type of candy you can think of. Colorful gumdrops frame the front door, pieces of licorice act as shutters to the icing windows, and oversized swirling lollipops stand around the house like a security team. 

Fake pine trees dot the scenery, their needles covered in fake snow. In fact, fake snow permeates about every spare inch on the display. It’s all around the platform and heavily dusted over the roof of the house. 

Sitting right in the middle of it all is the man himself: Santa Claus. He’s perched atop a large red throne smack dab in the middle of the wonderland. The entire display is surrounded by a white, glittery snowflake fence. 

There’s a girl dressed as an elf in a green tulle skirt and red tights standing behind a camera facing the big man. Your eyes then come across the best sight of all.

Your hand comes up to cover your enormous grin as you take in your boyfriend in his very own elf attire. The left half of his button up shirt is red, while the right half is entirely green. The same is true of the pants, just reversed; a green left leg and a red right leg. His hair is tucked up in a bun at the base of his neck and the rest of his curls are hidden by the green Santa hat on top of his head. The hat has golden jingle bells on the top and fake points to rest on top of Eddie’s ears to give the magical illusion of elf ears. The part that tickles you the most though is the shoes. They’re green with pointed toes that curl up, with a golden jingle bell attached to the tip of each. 

“Did you know he was working here?” Nancy asks you, a few giggles escaping her. 

“No!” You laugh but find it strange to look at his hands and see no chunky silver rings. 

The only people in the line to meet Santa are a little girl with long blonde hair, half up in a pink ribbon, and her mother. It’s understandable that there's hardly a crowd here on a Tuesday afternoon. The little girl looks scared and won’t let go of her mom’s hand no matter how much she encourages her. 

Eddie walks over to the girl and crouches down to her level.

“Hi. My name is Eddie. What’s your name?”

“Christina,” she answers softly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Christina. Are you a little nervous to meet Santa?”

She nods her head.

Eddie offers her his hand. “What if we go up there together?”

Christina still looks hesitant.

“You don’t have to be afraid of him,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “He just wants to know what you want for Christmas so us elves can get to work on it. That is…if you’re on the nice list.” Eddie tilts his head and raises his eyebrows. “You have been good this year, right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what I thought! Now, do you want to come up and tell Santa what you want?”

Christina stares at Eddie with wide blue eyes for a few moments before she nods her head. Eddie gives her a smile and extends his hand again. This time, Christina takes it. 

You watch as Eddie leads the small girl up to Santa and tells him her name. He crouches down and stays there until Christina seems more comfortable with Santa. When she climbs on his lap, Eddie steps aside so she can share what she wants with Santa in private. 

Once a picture has been snapped, Christina hops off of Santa’s lap and Eddie gives her a candy cane before she leaves the little Christmas village with her mom.

There’s nobody else in line to meet Santa, but he’s still scheduled to be there for another two hours according to the sign. The photographer elf starts cleaning up around her area and Eddie shuffles around his small space, looking for something to do. You take the opportunity to walk closer to the magical scene, Nancy right behind you.

“And here I thought Hermey the little elf dentist was the cutest elf I’ve ever seen,” you say as you approach the fence.

Eddie looks up and you immediately see his cheeks darken, but he gives you a bright smile.

“What’re you doing here?” he asks.

“Shopping,” Nancy answers, holding up her bags as proof.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask, looking at all the festiveness around him.

“I’m just here for the candy canes.” He laughs when you pinch your eyebrows together. “Figured I’d get a holiday job and make some extra money.”

“What for?” you ask, knowing there’s nothing you want that could cost more than a few dollars. And that Wayne will probably just get a new mug. Again.

“Well,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I know your favorite band is starting a tour next month…”

“My favorite band besides Corroded Coffin,” you say, pointing an index finger at him.

“Yes, of course, that goes without saying.”

“Eddie, you didn’t have to do this,” you tell him, though your heart grows three sizes at the gesture.

“I wanted to,” he says with a bashful shrug. 

You peek behind the gingerbread house and raise your eyebrows at Eddie when you see it’s away from any possible prying eyes. He chuckles and nods his head in that direction.

“Be right back,” you tell Nancy.

“Take your time,” she teases.

Eddie helps you over the snowflake fence and you take another look at his costume. He looks even cuter in it closer up.

“Is that velvet?” you ask.

“No, thank God. Cotton. This already gets hot enough.”

“Look at my adorable elf boyfriend,” you say with a playful smirk.

His face starts to turn red as you wrap your arms around his neck. He places his hands on your waist and gives a small squeeze.

“You know,” you muse, tilting your head to the side. “You didn’t ask me.”

“Ask you what?”

“If I’ve been good this year.”

Eddie laughs and leans in to nudge his nose against yours.

“Because I already know the answer to that one. Pretty sure I contributed to it,” he says in a low voice, causing goosebumps to run down your arms.

He presses his lips over yours and holds you up against his body as he claims your mouth. Your hands slide into his hair, and it makes the green hat move, causing the little bell to jingle.

You pull away, unable to keep kissing because you’re full of giggles. Eddie sighs.

“Fine,” he whispers. “I guess we’ll just have to get naughty later then.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic

[dduane]

Of parsnips and parsnip soup

So the question of parsnips, and particularly parsnip soup, came up secondary to this quote from an interview with Terry Pratchett. (Thanks to @captainfantasticalright for the transcription.)

Terry: “You can usually bet, and I’m sure Neil Gaiman would say the same thing, that, uh, if I go into a bookstore to do a signing and someone presents me with three books, the chances are that one of them is going to be a very battered copy of Good Omens; and it will smell as if it’s been dropped in parsnip soup or something in and it’s gone fluffy and crinkly around the edges and they’ll admit that it’s the fourth copy they’ve bought”.

And when @petermorwood saw this, he immediately reblogged it and added four recipes for parsnip soup.

These kind of surprised some folks, as not everybody knew that parsnips were an actual thing: or if they were, what they looked like or were useful for.

The vegetable may well be better known on this side of the Atlantic. (And I have to confess that as a New Yorker and Manhattanite, with access to both great outdoor food markets and some of the best grocery stores in the world, I don't think that parsnips ever came up on my personal radar while I was living there.) So I thought I'd take a moment to lay out some basics for those who'd like to get to know the vegetable better.

The parsnip's Linnaean/botanical name is Pastinaca sativa, and in the culinary mode it's been around for a long time. It's native to Eurasia, and is a relative to parsley and carrots (with which it's frequently paired in the UK and Ireland). The Romans cultivated it, and it spread all over the place from there. Travelers who passed through our own neck of the woods before the introduction of the potato noted that "the Irish do feed much upon parsnips", and in the local diet it filled a lot of the niches that the potato now occupies.

You can do all kinds of things with parsnips. The Wikipedia article says, correctly, that they can be "baked, boiled, pureed, roasted, fried, grilled, or steamed". But probably the commonest food form in which parsnips turn up around here is steamed or simmered with carrots and then mashed with them: so that you can buy carrot-and-parsnip mash, ready-made, in most of our local grocery chains.

It also has to be mentioned that most Irish kids have had this stuff foisted on them at one point or another, and a lot of them hate it. (@petermorwood would be one.) I find it hard to blame anybody for this opinion, as one of the parsnip's great selling points—its spicy, almost peppery quality—gets almost completely wiped out by the carrot's more dominant flavor and sweetness.

Roasting parsnips, though, is another matter entirely. They roast really well. And parsnip soups are another story entirely, as it's possible to build a soup that will emphasize the parsnip's virtues.

So, to add to Peter's collection, here's one I made earlier—like yesterday afternoon, stopping the cooking sort of halfway and finishing it up today.

I was thinking in a vague medioregnic-food way about a soup with roasted bacon in it, but not with potatoes (as those have been disallowed from the Middle Kingdoms for reasons discussed elsewhere. Tl;dr: it's Sean Astin's fault). And finally I thought, "Okay, if we're going to roast some pork belly or back bacon, then why not save some energy and roast some parsnips too? The browned skins'll help keep them from going to mush in the soup."

So: first find your parsnips. I used four of them. You peel them with a potato peeler...

...sort of roughly quarter them, the long way...

...then chop them in half the short way, toss them in a bowl with some oil—olive oil, in this case—spread them on a baking sheet, and season them with pepper, coarse salt, and some chile flakes. (I used ancho and bird's-eye chile flakes here.)

These then went into the oven for about half an hour, and came out like this.

While that was going on, I got a block of ready-cooked Polish snack bacon out of the freezer.

On its home turf, this is the kind of thing that turns up (among other ways) sliced very thin on afternoon-snack plates, with cheeses and breads. But we like to score it and roast it to sweat some of the fat out, and then use it in soups and stews and so forth.

So I scored this chunk on most of its sides, browned it in a skillet, then shoved the skillet into the oven for twenty minutes or so. Here's the bacon after it was done.

While it was cooking, I made about a liter of soup stock from a couple of stock cubes. If you can get pork stock cubes, they'd be best for this, but beef works fine.

This then went into the pot and was brought up to just-boiling while the bacon and the parsnips were chopped into more or less bite-sized chunks. After that, the meat and veg were added to the pot and the whole business was left to simmer for a couple of hours while I went off to do some line editing.

Finally I turned it off and left it on the stove overnight (our kitchen is quite cool, it was in no bacteriological danger from being left out this way) and then finished its simmering time around lunchtime today.

And here it is. (...Or was. It was very nice.)

...Anyway, this is only one of potentially thousands of takes on parsnip soup. Recipes for more robust versions—based on mashed parsnips and more vegetables, or different meats—are all over the place.

Meanwhile, as regards how much damage this soup could do to your copy of Good Omens if you dropped yours in it, I'd rate this at about 5 damage points out of 10. ...Call it 5.5 if you factor in the chiles. Soups along the boiled-and-mashed-parsnip spectrum would probably inflict damage more in the 7.50-8.0 range. But your results may vary: so I'll leave you all to your own experimentation.

#parsnips #parsnip soup #Good Omens #Terry Pratchett #Neil Gaiman #recipes

[lovebugism]

🕸   — FICTOBER: THE MASTERLIST —   🕸

here you will find the entire collection of fictober drabbles, from oldest to newest, organized by character and theme. thanks for spending the spooky season with me lovies! until the next one...

EDDIE MUNSON —   ; 🦇

🕸 eddie buys shy!reader a couples costume (18+ ish)

🕸 eddie and his sleepy gf have a movie night with the gang

🕸 eddie tells jason to leave you alone

🕸 eddie's ditzy gf is excited about their cemetery date

🕸 eddie calms your nerves before a presentation

🕸 eddie realizes his shy gf hates horror movies

🕸 rockstar!eddie gets high and makes a confession (18+)

🕸 a day in the life of you and eddie post-vecna

🕸 virgin!eddie takes care of you on your period

🕸 eddie tells you what he wants to try in bed (18+)

🕸 you obsess over virgin!eddie's new flannel

🕸 eddie gets grumpy with his shy!gf

🕸 rockstar!eddie gets jealous at a bar

🕸 eddie and his ditzy!gf can't agree on a costume

🕸 eddie takes his gf to a drive-in (18+)

🕸 you suck eddie off in a haunted house (18+)

🕸 you tell eddie you want to make your relationship public

🕸 eddie protects his shy bff from her own imagination

🕸 you and eddie are friends with benefits

STEVE HARRINGTON —   ; 📼

🕸 steve holds your hands even though they're freezing

🕸 steve (accidentally) snaps at ditzy!reader

🕸 steve takes shy!reader to a haunted house

🕸 steve comforts shy!reader after a bad day

🕸 steve and punchy have a movie night (ft. eddie spaghetti)

🕸 steve and punchy babysit the kids for an afternoon

🕸 steve meets shy!reader at a bookstore

🕸 steve's ditzy gf makes him a blanket

🕸 steve and punchy spend an early autumn morning together

🕸 steve's shy gf makes him a mixtape

🕸 steve and you come up with a couples costume

🕸 steve runs into his ex after a fight with her boyfriend

🕸 modern!office steve has a quickie with you in the bathroom (18+)

🕸 modern!office steve runs into you outside of work

🕸 steve and you get too drunk and jim comes to save you

🕸 steve takes shy!reader to the city mall

#event masterlist #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington smut #eddie munson smut

[applejuicebegood]

Hi gorgeous!! I haven’t gotten a chance to respond to your message about jason x booknerd!reader, but I wanted to quickly message and tell you that I’ve read it and I’m absolutely in love! You literally always come up with such good ideas, idk how you do it!! You’re awesome and ily!!

-(@midnightorchids)

Jason with a Bookworm!S/O

A/N: I know school has started back up for you again babe, so I don't blame you :((( I was originally planning to expand this for you, hopefully you can read this during a study break or some down time (i might repeat some stuff - just look away). It's IB exam season where I am so I share in your pain. Hang in there dude!! Summer is almost here!!

Masterlist

He's a vintage paperback and leather-bound kinda guy. Crime, Sci-Fi, historical-fiction/romance, magical-realism, and non-fiction are his go-to genres. Favourite authors include; Margret Atwood, Kurt Vonnegut, Haruki Murakami, Frank Herbert, and probably M.T Anderson. He's only a little pretentious about it.

He can spend hours in used book stores digging through the big plastic bins and stuffed cardboard boxes. You help him find specific authors or titles, your basket heavy with your combined finds. He'll carry the bags back to your apartment, his other hand tucked into yours as you gush about excited you are to sort and organise your new additions to your shared library.

He still has some books that Bruce and Alfred gave hm before his murder. Leather bond additions of the Liliad and rare printings of Dracula and Frankenstein. They have these little notes left in the front pages from Bruce that he couldn't bring himself to tear out or throw away entirely. And if you thought his home library was huge- wait until you see the book shelves in his old room.

Since he doesn't spend that much money on himself, he now has every chance to spoil you with your own special additions of your favourite stand-alone's, expensive book-marks, and lavish coffee dates where both of you enjoy your books over the smoothest of richest of espresso.

In the early months of your relationship, most of your dates were spent at bookstores, thrift-shops, and libraries. Your love quite literally grew from the yellowed, torn pages your would both get lost in.

Once his home library combined with yours, most of your bedroom and living room wall space became covered with his floor to ceiling bookshelves. Your bedside tables would each have a small stack of books that you were currently reading.

He absolutely loves how you look with your reading glasses. He thinks it's too cute when you push them up with the back of your hand, entirely focused on an intense passage. Your eyes going wide or your breath stopping at a beautiful line. Your adorable focused stare and sweet round cheeks are accentuated fully. He should be reading the book in his own lap but he's entirely distracted by you. You shut the book with a thump and immediately turn to him to gush about the chapter you just finished only to have his hands catch your jaw and bring your smiling lips against his. And suddenly, you forgot what you were going to say to him.

Jason finds lines and prose in his books that remind him of you and highlight them. He would keep them in a note stack on his phone, just to read them back to remind himself of your beauty. It's something that he could never put into words himself, hence one of the reasons why he adores reading so much. He can find the right order of words that properly express his infinite adoration and care for you.

I've explored this before but you guys have a set date once a month where you'll sit in each-others arms and just read all day. You'll curl up in one of his sweaters with one of your thick Sanderson novels and he'll tuck a blanket around his lap with his special addition of 'Little Women' open in his lap. He'll refill your tea mug because it's always hard to pull you out of your book during your reading days.

You'll order in some warm comfort food for supper and talk about your books respectively. He'll gush about how Jo March is such a revolutionary character and how Amy is actually a metaphor for the loss of innocence girls experience when attempting to emulate patriarchal standards of womanhood.

All while you gaze lovingly back into his eyes, your chin resting on your palm - wondering if a marriage proposal would be too sudden for your evening conversation.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #robin jason todd #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #batfam #jason todd x you #jason todd comfort #red hood x fem!reader #dc robin #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood #batfamily #jason peter todd #dc red hood #the red hood

[walkingnorth]

✨Love and Gravity (the print edition of Always Human season 2, chapters 38 through to the epilogue) is out, in bookstores, tomorrow!✨

Like last time, I have cool goodies to give out.

The release campaign is running through to the end of August, please go to https://alwayshumanbooks.carrd.co/ for more information and to submit your receipt! There's a Q&A on the site and hopefully that answers most questions. If you have further questions, please ask here and I will answer :)

#always human #walkingnorth #gl #yuri #graphic novel #webtoon #idk what tags to use

[neil-gaiman]

Hello, Neil Gaiman. I am writing this letter of gratitude because I am in despair, but I am obliged to you. I am Russian, I live in a small town in the south of Russia, in the Caucasus. a month ago I turned 16, so now I am fully responsible for all my actions. I'm bisexual, which is now illegal. you understand what I mean, but I’m simply scared to write about such things. absolutely no one knows about this, and I have to hide every day. this is an unbearable burden, but I must say thank you. because your projects are what gives me life. you have no idea how much pleasure it was for me, at eight years old, to fearfully admire Mr. Bobinsky. when, at 14, I finally saved up money for the Russian edition of Good Omens, which I had to order via the Internet not directly, but through my friends, I was quietly delighted. it is worth paying tribute to: this edition is really good and very warms the soul, its design may not be filled with elegance with a golden border, but it is very homely, cozy and imbued with love for the work, this can be felt, even if the translation is not the best. and on the very first pages I felt something that I had never experienced, having problems with the nervous system and anxiety: I felt protected and happy. I felt complete. each line was a sip of life-giving water for me. let me be so bold but this book is perfect for me and it's hard to believe it wasn't written for me personally haha. like two pieces of a puzzle. I hold the book of Good Omens, and I cry almost every time because it feels good just to hold it in my hands. you shouldn’t put this next to fanaticism, it’s just personal happiness. sometimes I felt so safe with this book that I hugged it as I fell asleep. then I saved up to the translation of script book for the first season, and I must say that I am confused, because there are no deleted scenes in it with Crowley shopping or the opening of Aziraphale's bookstore and others, and this was not clear to me. and a month ago, on October 30, my cousin, who is like my own sister, gave me the original Good Omens for my birthday. can you imagine? in all of Russia she was able to find only one person who carried out such foreign orders (please forgive me, I have little understanding of this). so, in some ineffable way, a copy was delivered to me via America from Corgi Books, I think, 2014. soft cover and thin pages, of course, but I'm so happy. and I’m also grateful to myself, because I’ve been learning English since I was seven, and therefore I’m glad that I can read the original. oh, you should have seen with what rapture I waited for the release of the second season at three in the morning! and with what delight I watched it in English without subtitles, understanding what was happening. this is happiness. what I want to say is that you bring…indescribable happiness to my life. you give me strength, and I don’t give up. I cry every time I allow myself to dream that I am escaping from here. that I can meet you and say thank you in person with my stupid accent, not so much because of my native language, but because of the braces, hahaha. but I never stop dreaming about it, although even this is hard. thank you for everything. I wish only peace and love. with devotion, love and gratitude, A.

I'm sending thoughts of love and concern. Stay safe.

[octuscle]

Hello, support? I think I need your help. I am opening a new nightclub in a couple of nights, but I am having a lot of problems finding a bouncer for the door! It seems it is a troubled neighborhood so almost no one wants to work as security here! And the few who are willing are asking for a fortune! And I don't have the skills to do it myself either! Can you help, please? I have invested a fortune and I really need to open ,and safely!

Your mother asks you if you have a job for the son of your hairdresser's neighbor's friend. For whom, please? You ask for the name. You look for a profile in the social networks. The only thing you find is the homepage of the local high school's debate club. He's obviously the president there. Holy shit! What's he going to do as a bouncer if there's a problem? Argue the people who cause trouble to death? Your mom sent a phone number. You give him a call and ask if you can meet up, you might have something for him. He says he's at the mall right now. That works for you, you're close by. You arrange to meet …. In the bookstore!!!

His name is Hank. And he looks like a Hank. You didn't expect anything else with that name. Actually, you can end the conversation right away. Hank looks at you… A book about Siegmund Freud and the Vienna School in his hand. He says that you don't look like you could have an intellectually challenging job for him.

You reply that you're looking for someone who can deal with people. For someone with a C- grade point average, that should be challenging enough.

Hank puts the book about the 2022 football season back on the shelf. He thinks that doesn't sound so bad now. He wants you to tell more.

You say it's cool that he's interested in football. He's looking for someone who has the qualities of a good linebacker. Someone who can take a beating and still remain a wall.

Hank rolls his shoulders and stretches his neck muscles. Pretty impressive neck muscles. He says he's not averse to a good brawl. On the football field. But not off it either.

"Lit" you reply. And you tell Hank that you like his haircut. It looks brutal. Fits the job you're looking for. Hank strokes the back of his shaved head and neck. He does his best to flex his biceps to the max. His hair on top is fixed with so much gel that it almost looks like a helmet.

"Yo dude, I'm always grinding at the gym till 10pm. Can't make it earlier. Cool with that?" asks Hank. "No sweat," you reply. "The club doesn't pop off till 11 p.m. anyway, so if you roll in later, I'll be the bouncer till then. Deal, bro?" Hank gives you a fist bump that almost breaks your ankles.

You couldn't ask for a better bouncer than Hank. An impressive figure who attracts guests like moths to a flame. But who also doesn't talk back. Hank has his door under control. And all he wants is for you to organize some steroids for him and that he doesn't get stressed when he fucks a guest in the staff bathroom during his breaks. Sometimes, if you're lucky, you are his object of desire.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #getting dumber #nerd to hunk #nerd to jock #ai image

[cosmicstarlatte]

Coffee Shop (Obey Me!)

━━━━━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━━━━━

You start a new job at a coffee shop in a popular plaza. You can't help but look forward to a certain regular. ♡

»Characters: Demon Bros + Dia + Barb

»Tags: Fluff, Bulleted Style, GN Reader, LeviLeviLevi-

»Notes: lol when was the last time I made a bulleted fic that wasn't a shitpost???🤯 Just simple short fluff lol, reblogs are appreciated + motivating ♡

Lucifer:

Always orders a cafe con leche every morning

Keeps interactions short but you learned his name

Always so serious but he does look like a business man

A very very handsome business man cough

After working there for a little bit he admits he likes the way you make his drink & hates when you guys miss each other on days off

One day he comes in normal clothes & you got caught off guard when he made it to the register

"It's my day off but I was craving my usual. I'm glad to see you're here."

Pleaseee you gotta be blushing right now alalfkfldk

You notice the record store bag he's holding & start a fun conversation while its slow

It does get busier & unfortunately have to cut the conversation to both your disappointments

"We can continue this later...maybe over dinner if you're available?"

Mammon:

Usually gets an icy blended drink, the flavor changes frequently

You see him every other day, it looks like he works at a retail store in the plaza

You thought he was cute & funny despite how loud he could be

One day he defends you against a really rude customer

You say your thank yous & give him his drink for free that day

"Yeah I guess I am a hero. Heroes get free drinks all the time though, ya?"

You couldn't help but laugh & accidentally let slip "you're really cute!"

He starts choking on his drink, stuttering & blushing

He goes silent for a moment before asking, "whaddaya say to a date one of these days?"

Levi:

Usually orders sweet drinks & likes trying seasonal/limited time things

You've seen him at his job at the anime store in the plaza, since you visit there sometimes

You two are on friendly terms even though he can be awkward

You think he's very cute though, especially when he talks about his passions

You felt like you two were dancing around eachother so you decide to make a move

You drew a Gundam robot on his drink & wrote 'Gun-DAM you're cute!'

You nervously handed the drink & he took it without noticing the drawing on it

You watched as he left the shop,took another sip, then stop as he looked at his drink

You could see he was happily freaking out but then abruptly stop

He looked back to the shop & you waved a shy hello

He ran back inside to make sure, "S-sorry is this a mistake? W-was this for someone else??"

"Look on the bottom"

He raised the cup & looked under

Levi, AkuCon this weekend?

Satan:

Usually orders a simple cappuccino but will add a flavored syrup occasionally

Comes in often on his breaks

You've seen him working at the bookstore in the plaza

He looks like a simple guy yet very charming

You always notice a book on him & one day you decide to ask what he's reading

You learn you read the same things & start having fun conversations every time he stops by

Eventually he asks you if you'd be able to give your thoughts on his writing

"Sure, I'd be happy to read it if you bring it!"

He gave you a flirty smile

"Actually I was thinking maybe we could hang out...like somewhere that's not here?"

Asmo:

Always orders an iced vanilla oat milk latte

You see him every few days, really friendly customer that loves to chat & you become friends quick even though you want more

You find out he works at a nearby agency & is an up & coming model

You felt a little intimidated, he could be really famous one day!

Nevertheless you treat him just the same even as those around him changed, he lets you know how grateful he is

One day he comes in upset & tells you the agency is moving across town to a bigger location so he won't be able to see you there anymore

At the same time both of you blurt out

"I still wanna see you!"

Beel:

You never know with this guy

He works in the sports store across from the cafe

He's always indecisive with the menu & one day just tells you to make whatever

You're his fave barista, he thinks you make the best drinks either way

Doesn't realize he just likes everything & has a crush on you

You can't help but get excited when he looks excited to see you golden retriever energy

You find out he's a foodie type & you guys talk about the local spots around town

"Would you like to check out the new sandwich store that opened a few doors down? Uh...like, maybe a date?"

Belphie:

Usually orders a hot regular latte but occasionally orders hot chocolate

He appears to be a student as he comes in often to study & always looks tired

One day on your break you decide to chat him up & offer help on the subject he was struggling with

He thought you were cute & was thankful for your help

After a few weeks of tutoring (+some heavy flirting), he passed his exam flawlessly

"Actually can you help me with one other thing?"

"Yeah, what?"

"Would you like to go on a date sometime?"

Diavolo:

Has a new favorite every week but really likes lattes/teas

You can tell he's important with his assistant present

You wonder why the assistant doesnt just get his order though

Anyway hes hot really friendly & chatty & can tell a few good jokes, you appreciate them!

He always seems reluctant to leave the shop which makes your heart flip

Always leaves a big tip! ... I want him to give me a big tip 😔

The two of you find out you have a lot more in common than you thought

One day he admits that these coffee runs are the things he looks forward to the most since his day is usually very busy & doesn't get much else normalcy

He lets slip that it's mainly seeing you that adds to his joy so he goes all in

"If you're interested, care to join me for dinner this weekend?"

Barbatos:

Always large orders of a few different drinks (part of his job)

Though you notice he always orders tea for himself & likes to buy different tea blends

He's a very (cute) polite customer, one of the few

You two usually chat as you make his large order & you can't help but fall for him

Knowing he loves to buy limited release tea blends, you usually save him one before the cafe sells out

You never tell anyone about it but:

"I appreciate you always saving me one."

"Oh? How did you know!?"

"I have a friend who stopped by earlier & said it was one of those times they missed out. Yet, there always appears to be one for me even after sell-out. Thank you kindly."

You blush at being found out, "seems I've been caught!"

He chuckles & gives you another shock:

"I've been meaning to ask...will you allow me to take you out one of these days?"

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