#@ the two asks rotting in my askbox i promise i will get to you

[dolce-tenebra-toscana]

Hi! 💕

Can you please request about how Melone's former love reappears in his life to return the relationship. But there is one point: Melone meets with the reader. How would Melone react and solve this issue?

Thanks 👾

Hello darling! So sorry for answering to your request this late but i hope is gonna be worth the wait! Thanks again for checking my askbox and for being patient (that’s how i understood the request, i hope it’s ok) :)

Request: Melone x reader where his old love comes back and how he reacts to it.

TW: brief violence cause Melone has all the right to be mad

You and Melone have been together for almost 2 years, and you could proudly consider yours a serious  relationship: you had your routine, your own apartment, you even adopted a cat!

Whenever one of you came home from a mission/your job the other had prepared a cozy meal, put on a vhs to watch together and then go to bed to either snuggle or make love.

It was pure domestic bliss, sure you did fight and sometimes you needed time apart from each other to clear your minds, but in the end the door of your shared aparment would open and let the two of you embrace and mumble a “ i’m sorry, it won’t happen again”

That day Melone had prepared a surprise for you; it was your second anniversary and he had asked Risotto a day off to get everything he needed to welcome you later that night to a “homemade spa”

He was just to start putting candles and rose petals around the apartment when he heard someone knocking at the door. He was sure it wasn’t you cause you never forget your keys (it was one of the rules for your own safety, especially if he wasn’t around: never lose your keys and always lock yourself in) so he carefully shouted a “ who is it?”….His blood froze in his veins when he recognised the voice behind the door

Melone rarely loves, even if his whole persona is very laid back and flirty, but when he does it’s HARD. He gives 100% and more in a relationship( for the best and the worst, he’s human too after all)  cause he truly believes in the “ happily ever after”, but if he gets his heart broken in tiny little pieces, is humiliated and left to rot in his own sadness like the person in front behind the door did to him years ago….that’s another story. HERE you see the dangerous mafioso he is, here you see why Risotto specifically asked the Boss to put him in his team…

Melone opens the front door and stares at his former lover with an emotionless face and fakes to listens to their words. He sees the lips moving, those same lips that spat such hurtful words to him in the past…are now trying to win him back with phrases covered in honey and lies. He mantains position, he has to wait for the perfect moment to strike.

When he feels the arms of his ex lover embrace him and whisper seducing promises to his ear, truly believing he was so stupid to fall for that trick…He quickly stabs the person in the back with the knife he used to cut the strawberries that decorate your chocolate lava cake.

he looked at their painful and surprised expression when he let them fall to the ground, trying to crawl away to safety and only asking “ why..did you do this…i love you..”, only for melone to sit next to them,  giving them a cold stare and saying  “ i called my collegues earlier, they’ll leave you in front of a hospital. You have exactly five minutes to cry for help before the blood loss kills you…You know i could have slaughtered you here and now, but my beloved y/n is coming home in a couple of hours and is a special night for us…blood on their favourite carpet is not a nice gift don’t you think? Stay.away.from.us…and if i ever see you, hear you, even sniff that cheap cologne/perfume you still use even tho smells like cat piss…next time i won’t “ miss “ the artery…”

He hears footsteps and stands up only to see Illuso and Formaggio: one is smirking like a devil while the other is as bored as usual. Illuso picks up the person laying terrified and wound on the floor and enters in the mirror world, while Formaggio shrinks the blood on the floor so it’ll be easy to clean with a sponge in a couple of minutes. He thanks his teammates and tells them to bring his ex lover to the hospital, he is a man of word…unlike them. Once the pair disappears in the mirror he calms himself down, clean up the now small spot of blood, quickly puts his clothes in the washing machine and dress up fancy for your arrival.

You had a very stressful day at work, so the thought of coming home to your beloved boyfriend to celebrate your anniversary was sure the only thing keeping you from passing out on the floor. Once you opened the door you saw your cat, Luigi, coming into your direction and meowing what in human language could have been “ Y/N HELP, GET THIS THING OFF ME!!”

You laughed so hard at the poor thing, wearing a pair of cupid’s wings with the note “ Follow the little plumber cat  to the bathroom, i have a surprise for you my love”

You took off your shoes, picked up the annoyed furball and happily ran across the apartment, seeing petals and candels everywhere…you truly felt like a kid during a treasure hunt.

 You stop in front of the bathroom door, finally free the poor kitty from his costumes and, while giggling, you knock on the door. You hear Melone’s excited voice say “ come in!!” and once you opened what a wonderful surprise was displayed in front of your eyes: the bathtub was filled with warm water and bubbles, your favourite wine was in a cooler on a small stool, you favourite tunes were on from his boombox and there was the man of the hour, laying on the carpet dressed like soap opera hero, a rose in his mouth, wiggling his eyebrows…

You literally jumped at him, covering his face with kisses and telling him how much you loved him, how much your relationship meant to you and how happy you were he chose you as his partner.

Melone hugged you back, he took the rose from his mouth and put it in a small vase beside the tub, and with a relaxed tone said “ I know you do my love, i can feel your feelings are true…and that’s the most beautiful gift you could have offered me tonight”

You could sense something troubled his soul, but you quickly shook your head and started kissing him again.

Whatever happened wasn’t your business, and if it was…tonight wasn’t the night to talk about it. Tonight it was all about the two of you and your love.

[twstddream]

Hey! Do you have any friendship/queerplatonic headcanons for the first years and Yuu/MC?^^

This ask has been sitting in my askbox for such a long time, sorry about that! I love the first years and their dynamic so I’m super happy this is the first request I’ve received.

These are going to be in no specific order. I would put the characters at the top of their section but I feel that these overlap a bit too much for that.

• Sebek is prickly at the best of time, but if anything or anyone is bothering Yuu he’ll tone it down a bit. But don’t think he’s doing it for their sake! He just realizes that Yuu’s situation is more unique than others and they might need more help, that’s all... (He cares so much but there’s no way he’ll ever let them know)

• Speaking of showing he cares, there are two ways he’ll show it.

 - If Yuu confide in him about their problems, he’ll do his usual “humans are lesser beings” spiel, but the next day Yuu’ll find that their problem has mysteriously resolved itself overnight. Sebek will act unusually smug the next day around them and that’s his only giveaway.

 - Or he’ll be blunt and tell Yuu to fix it themselves.

“I’m watching over the Young Master!” this and “This is your problem, fix it yourself” that, but maybe he can lend a helping hand just this once. But just this once, okay?!

• As long as the concept of promise rings exist I headcanon that Sebek makes or buys promise rings for the rest of the first years (and one for Silver too) and makes a little charm for Grim to wear one. He promises that they’ll be friends forever as cheesy as that sounds.

• Sebek gets sad that he’s going to outlive all of his friends. Even Silver will die before him. Because of this he becomes more distant and he’ll never tell why.

• Yuu is his first ever friend besides Silver, and he deeply cares for Yuu. Of course he’s friends with the other first years, but Yuu is his favourite. But don’t tell them that, okay?

• Epel will throw himself between Yuu and a bunch of rowdy Savanaclaw students to protect Yuu. He’s getting his ass kicked, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t protect his friend. (I mean all of them would but Epel would but is the fastest to do so)

• He loses.

• But Epel doesn’t mind being patched up afterwards if Yuu is the one to do it. Of course he’ll still complain that he lost, but “How dare they target you!”

• He’ll take offense for Yuu.

• Yuu please stop him he’s going to get hit.

• Muscle training with Yuu! It doesn’t matter if Yuu doesn’t want muscles the size of beer barrels, they can just watch and keep track of his training! Or if they do want to join in then he has a buddy to show off with! He’ll drag Yuu around with him and show off to Ace and Deuce how big their muscles are and how high their endurance is!

This of course leads to Ace. Deuce, and Grim wanting to join in, which leads to Jack becoming their unwilling instructor, with Sebek joining to “monitor their progress” (He just wants to spend time with his friends) And it becomes a weekly thing the first years do together.

• Epel loves Grim. Epel happily carries him around campus. Vil will scold him for getting cat fur on his uniform, but Epel could care less. The world ceases to exist when he’s with Grim.

• If he notices that Yuu is more into fashion and the likes than he is then he’s going to pass all of Vil’s tips to them. Though he doesn’t understand at first, it’s something they can talk about together, and Yuu seems to enjoy themselves. so he supposes he can stand talking about his skincare plan a while longer.

• Epel will get Yuu to sample all of his family’s apple orchard products, he’s excited to hear what they think. He often brings them during lunch break and tries to get Jack to incorporate them into his dishes.

• Epel carves Yuu amazing apple skin sculptures. The best ones he’s ever produced are given to Yuu and have a spell placed on them so they don’t rot.

• He’ll help Yuu cultivate plants and wildlife for an assignment if it calls for it.

• Jack will also help Yuu with taking care of the plants in the botanical garden.

• Jack’s cooking is transcendent. And he’ll often cook himself something after his workouts. As long as Yuu and Grim help out with the cooking process he doesn’t mind sharing with them.

• Just like Epel, Jack will invite Yuu to go on his morning jogs with him, and even offer Grim to play Magift with him.

• After seeing the full extent of Ramshackle dorm he helps Yuu with repairs. Him and Sebek are the new repairmen of Ramshackle. Jack works with the ghosts to restore the dorm to it’s former glory so that his friends have a safe place to live. He’s also 100% going to decorate the dorm with jade plants, aloe vera, burro’s tail and many others. Ramshackle dorm practically becomes a second botanical garden.

• Though Jack doesn’t like fighting others as much as the rest of his dorm he’s ready to throw hands for Yuu. He’ll warn the offending person once but after that it’s on sight.

• Ah, Ace and Deuce. The Adeuce combo. The no braincell gang. They would lay down their lives for Yuu.

• If Yuu’s got problems, then woah, they’ve got problems too.

• Everything that is Yuu, is everything that they are.

 - They are the kindness Yuu showed them when they draped a blanket around their sleeping forms, textbooks and pencils sprawled out in front them.

 - They are the patience Yuu practices with them each and every day.

 - They are the mischief that Yuu will only indulge in with their closest of friends.

 - In many ways, they are apart of Yuu

• Yuu has helped the both of them more than they could have ever imagined. Even if it wasn’t through the easiest of methods.

• Sappy stuff aside, these two are absolute bastards.

• They can and will buy out Sam’s entire stock of snacks and drinks for a movie night that ended in disaster.

 - Ace insisted on watching a horror movie trilogy, Deuce countered with a guns ablazing action film, while Grim wanted to watch this new animated movie that Cater was talking about.

 - They ended up watching all 5 movies until the crack of dawn.

• But Yuu wouldn’t trade them for the world.

[xu-ren]

The first time Xiao tells you he loves you, you don’t hear him

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Xiao x reader

Wordcount: 500+

My requests and askbox are open, so pretty please don't be shy.

I wrote something that’s kinda a sequel for this:  You are in his arms 

Masterpost

*~*~*

Xiao is panicking, was this it? Did he finally succeed in driving you away? Stubborn, overly optimistic you who clung to him like a particularly persistent wolfhook?

Was it because of how harshly he told you to go when you were wishing him goodbye as you left? How he snapped that he wouldn’t miss you when you asked? He is eating his words now, much to the amusement of the innkeeper. He is sure that you would be delighted when you come back and hear about it. He can already imagine how you would tease him for it, how your eyes would sparkle, how your grin would split so wide he wonders how it doesn’t hurt, how your very being would exude joy. He thinks that he would let you tease him this time, simply because of how much he missed your presence.

Two more days pass by before he finally gives up waiting. For the first time ever, he looks for you instead of the other way around. He goes to your house, which shows no signs of recent inhabitation. Then, he goes to the places you mentioned when you talk his ear off. He always listened to you, even when he showed no signs of doing so.

You aren’t anywhere to be found. Did you leave Liyue just to get away from him? Do you hate him so much after all, even after you promised to come back? But then again, you promised that you would be back in two days, it has been a week since those two days have passed.

There was one last place to search before he gives up, before he accepts that he has succeeded in chasing you away for good. He goes, hoping to find you there, so that his mind can be put to rest.

He finds you, except he never ever wanted to find you like this and his whole world comes crashing down. He distantly registers falling to his knees, but his attention is on your face, on your lifeless eyes. He has never seen your eyes so lifeless, not you whose eyes shone with all your emotions.

He reaches out to hold you and notices how much his hand is shaking. His hands have always been as steady as the Archon he serves, even as his comrades fall before him but the sight of you causes them to shake.

He cradles you to him, more gently than he ever has, and adjusts you to your preferred position, your face resting in the crook of his neck and your arms around him. Except, no matter what he does, there are things that are different from the previous times. The persistent smell of rot and decay instead of qingxin, the lack of content signs, how you don’t shuffle so that you can be even closer to him, how you don’t whisper your love to him and how you don’t tighten your arms around him, as if afraid that he would leave you (in the end, aren’t you the one that left first?).

It doesn’t matter, because he will do it for you this time. He hugs you closer to him, mindful to be gentle, buries his face in the crook of your neck and for the first time ever, whispers his love to you over and over again as if it would bring you back.

Oh Archons, he should have answered when you called his name. If he did, would you still be alive? But his blasted pride had him denying your call and now, he would never be able to hear his name from your lips again.  He swears an oath to never ignore a call for his name again on his love for you.

*~*~*~*~*

Centuries later, on the anniversary of your death, an otherworldly traveller and their floating companion arrives and calls his name and he answers.

[writingbakery]

starstruck ✨

tamaki amajiki is a junior at UA College hopelessly obsessed with his favorite singer, [y/s/n]. when he finally gets the opportunity to attend one of their hi-touch fanmeets, he’s hoping to make an impression - suave & cool, the man of their dreams even. it.... doesn’t go as planned. [a social media/written chaptered au!]

[pairing: college student! tamaki amajiki x famous! gender neutral reader ✨]

[warnings: tooth rotting fluff, light angst, sappy feelings ✨]

[chapter ii; the incident ✨]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the first thing tamaki registers is that it’s loud. too loud, the frantic chattering of over a hundred fans and security overwhelmingly clear.

kiri’s close beside him, a hand already on tamaki’s shoulder - he knows just how the other gets with crowds, loud noises, essentially everything inside the arena.

“i’ll go first, okay? so i can be waiting for you by the exit and we can leave as soon as you’re done,” kiri promises, flashing tamaki one of his signature spiky grins. all tamaki can do is nod, hands so sweaty he can barely hold on to the plushy he’s gotten you - he couldn’t show up to your fanmeet empty handed, especially not one this big.

it’s a small, pink bat, with foldable wings and soft plush fur that he just wants to bury his face in. he hopes you’ll like it - it’s more unique than the other ones you’ve already received, and he wants to make a good impression.

ahead of them, the line is moving fairly quickly, each fan getting about three to four minutes of your time as you chat, hold their hands, and sign whatever they’d brought. he & kiri aren’t quite at the front of the line, so he can’t see you yet, but the top of your head is just barely visible, [h/c] locks shining under the heavy lights.

the nerves are starting to set in a little heavier than before, fidgeting in place as the line moves ahead. kiri can sense his growing anxieties, pulling out gis phone to distract him almost immediately. “i’m gonna tweet [y/s/n]’s hot manager. you think he’ll see it?” kiri asks cheekily, already tapping out a tweet before tamaki can stop him. he makes the taller man pose for a quick, slightly awkward selfie, laughing at their equally silly, smiley expressions. “we look good! i bet he’ll be so in love with our faces that he’ll show [y/s/n],” he teases, and tamaki goes so red he matches the ribbons decorating the arena.

shaking his head at the silly tweet, tamaki just focuses on his feet for a moment, attempting to calm his racing heart.

he’s close enough that he can see you now, your face lit up with the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen. he’s been to your concerts, he’s seen you in person but up close? you’re an angel, ethereal and gorgeous in a way that makes his heart skip a beat or seven. he’s well aware that he’s staring, but he can’t help himself - you’re just so captivating, and you hadnt even spoken two words to him yet.

far too soon for tamaki’s liking, kiri’s next to meet you, and his nerves only triple when he sees the usually cheery man fidget a bit in his spot. if kirishima eijiro - one of the most impressive and brave people he knows - is nervous at the prospect of meeting you, then he should be terrified.

kiri disappears up the stairs with a security guard in minutes, and tamaki can’t help but freeze up, palms slick with heady anxieties. he attempts to calm himself down, the stampede in his stomach, but nothing’s working, and he can’t even speak.

“next!” the security guard already looks fed up with the entire event, and tamaki’s feet are moving on their own - his mind’s going haywire, barely able to comprehend the situation as he makes his way to the center of the platform.

eyes glued to the floor, he’s so nervous his hands are shaking, sweat lining his temple as the world spins faster and faster around him. your voice breaks his frantic panic, a heavenly melody to the crashing drums of his anxiety.

“hey, are you alright sweetheart?” your tone is laced with concern, yet still so airy and sweet that he just has to look up. indigo eyes meet your own [h/c] ones, locking with a surprising jolt; the entire world came to a screeching halt along with his racing mind.

you were so beautiful.

there were no words to explain how he felt, no phrases or terms to fully embrace the way his heart stuttered and his world grew brighter, simply from the sight of your smiling face.

he fainted instead, vision blurring into a rush of frantic yelling and the last image of your worried face burned into his eyes as the floor rushed to smack him in the face.

oblivious and completely confused, kiri frantically scans the crowd, phone blowing up with concerned tweets and texts.

“where the hell is he?!”

[chapter iii; the aftermath.... sneak peek!✨]

[excited for chapter 3? hit my askbox & tell me your thoughts! ✨]

[taglist; @monst @blu-that-one-nerd @queerly-anxious @black-bhabie-2000 @the-random-multi-shiper @tamaki-is-hot @katsukisprincess ]

[wexhappyxfew]

Hello Shannon ! 2,3,8,9,16,17,28,30 for the writers asks??💗

HELLO SARA!!! Might I just say THANK YOU FOR PROVIDING FRIEND OMG!!! You have me beyond excited to answer these let me tell you haha!! Thank you so much truly, you always stop on by and even though I have a bunch of your older asks just in my askbox, I promise to get to them some day!! :D School happens sometimes LOL!! Alrighty now - enjoy! 

2. Why do you write fanfiction?

Fanfiction has always been a way for me to express myself. I’m not a person who does well expressing emotion to others - I tend to hide it, cover it with a smile, maybe some humor and intend to go cry about it later all alone. That’s just how I’ve always been, maybe it’s the introvert in me, but I hate when people see me cry. Not anything specific about it, it’s just weird for me. And so, fanfic gives me an outlet - when I’m happy, I write happy stuff, sad - sad stuff, angry - a whole lot of angry stuff. It’s always just been an outlet for me, especially during the pandemic where there was so much vast uncertainty where this, writing fanfic, was some sort of ever-present constant. It’s like a safety net, a little protective blanket. Knowing you can vibe all alone, play some music and just create a story with words.

I always found that fascinating truly - people can create a world from WORDS!! From mere WORDS! I think that it was truly drew me in - you can string words together and create something to read and something people will enjoy. Truly, it’s just so incredibly fascinating and more than anything a joy to do! 

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

Hm, interesting question. I’ve always been told that I create characters that people really grow to love and care about. I’ve been asked before how to craft a character and put them in a story and if I ever have advice in that realm of things! And I’d say generally, I’m my #1 cheerleader, I’ll always love my writing no matter what stage it’s in because it’s truly me on that page and it’s what I want to see and what I want to see written across that page. 

BUT ALSO -- now that I’ve started crafting Death in Landslide, I’ve really been told that people enjoy that aspect a whole lot. They love the personification of Him, and how I incorporated Him into the fic! I think He brings a whole other dynamic to Landslide that really makes Landslide different in a way! 

@iilovemusic12us said it and I will ALWAYS bring it up - but she talked about how reading Landslide was almost like sitting at a poker match(?) if that sounds correct, in a darkened room with a spotlight over the two, as the BoB boys fade in and out of the background just awaiting the next move of either Death or Natia and I really love that comparison so so much! 

It’s like with each chapter more and more tension continues to build and you have no idea where it might end up leading in the end, but you want to know more and Death really brings that to the table! 

8. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write?

Okay, I won’t be doing OCs for this because I click into the OC’s persona when I write them and just roll with it really, so I’ll do BoB boys for this! 

George Luz for me is definitely one of the easiest to write, I don’t know how to describe it, but I feel in some ways I can match his energy and just go with it and that’s where it comes from.

IS IT WEIRD TO SAY BOTH JOE LIEBGOTT AND RONALD SPEIRS?!? I don’t know what it is but those two come SUPER easy to me. Especially Speirs for some weird reason. Maybe it’s because in context I throw on 2WEI and suddenly I am embodying Ronald Speirs to the next level. I have absolutely no idea, nor why, but YES, these two as well! 

9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write?

I feel many people say this, but Richard Winters (for BoB). I’m not sure what it is, but I feel it’s so hard to hit his voice just right because - on the outside I feel he doesn’t seem super complex, but in reality I feel he really is and it’s shown throughout the entirety of the series. It’s why with Landslide, I’ve really worked on a different side of Winters, more of a ‘I have to warm up to you before we are on good terms’ sort of person and having him have to combat Natia in multiple circumstances brings that along. But ultimately he is always the most difficult for me, but sometimes, most of the time, in a good way!

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

FRIENDS-TO-LOVERS, man I am such a sucker for that trope 100%, I always am and always will be, just everything about it, I’ll always love it. BUT ALSO - found family. God I love found family. Found family just, any day I’ll take found family over anything. Found family is just *chef’s kiss*....*side eyes Landslide* LMAO!! I just really love these two! 

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

Okay, I’m really bad with this question because I’m suddenly blanking out big time on it...uh.....maybe like someone who is written as ‘perfect’ I guess? Idk, just it’s not realistic and I can’t enjoy the story because everything goes just right when life is not anywhere like that. 

28. How well do you handle criticism when it comes to your writing?

Pretty well I feel! Of course constructive criticism is what I’m referencing because I really take that generously, especially when I know it will better me as a writer and a person in many senses! I’ve been told before that I took constructive criticism really well, so yeah I guess! BUT, criticism that is strictly just like hate, or passive-aggressive criticism or just a word dump of anger that is ultimately useless to me - I tell myself not to let it get to me but more times than not it does and I try not to lose my mind. But I have a great group of supportive people who help me through and have my back and recently 2 people really had my back and did it publicly on Wattpad (comments were deleted) and it meant a lot to me, just to know I always have people there. I just...this world has so much hate and hating on people who enjoy something like this and you get to read it for free - I know we should expect it but I won’t lie that if the person has an issue that can just stop reading and not waste their time on hate comments, but the world isn’t perfect SO! :) 

30. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

B O T H !!!!!! Give me merciless angst and then absolutely tooth-rotting fluff FILLED with mixes of whump +hurt/comfort and you’ve sealed the deal for me LOL!!

[sunshinemiranda]

Starlight Grounds - Phillipa Soo x Reader

Summary: The reader is a barista at a coffee shop. There is a beautiful girl who comes in at the same time every day to get the same drink. She asks after the music. A mixtape happens. 

Warnings: None, except for MAJOR TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF. Honestly. 

Words: 2,424

A/N: Day 2 of the Write-A-Thon! Sorry for posting so late, I had a really big day. There are songs that go along with this fic, and I’ll add links in the paragraphs! Just click on the titles. Thank you to @protecting-my-legacy for proofreading this and letting me use your wonderful self as a side character. 

askbox | masterlist

Starlight Grounds was a little hole in the wall coffee shop, tucked neatly into the corner of West 46th Street in the busy crowd of New York City. It serviced the tired actors and crew who needed a morning pick-me-up before going to a day of rehearsals at the Richard Rodgers, which happened to be just down the street. Every day was a long one, even for such a small coffee shop, but the job was happy and provided good tips. It was perfect for you.

Every morning, right on time, a dark-haired, beautiful girl came in and ordered a venti cinnamon dolce latte. Every morning, she hummed a different song and even sang softly, with a beautiful, crystal clear voice. Every morning, you swooned a little more over the stranger who you only knew as “Pippa”, as it was written on her coffee cup.

“All you know is her favourite drink and her nickname, and you’re half whipped for the girl already.”

“I am not!”

This argument with Mackie, your sweetheart of a coworker (correction: scathing sweetheart) had been going on as long as the customer of your affections had been coming to your workplace.

“Look,” sighed Mackie, all hands on hips and perked eyebrows. “Just ask the girl out. Maybe write something cute on her cup if you’re feeling risky. Don’t just stare at her like an idiot and ask her the same question every day.”

“It’s my system.” You pouted, crossing your arms with a huff. “And it works.”

“Like hell it does.”

Despite your colleague’s hard work to push you forward, the next morning followed the very same schedule. The doorbell rang as the minute hand on the clock hit 5:36, and you scrambled out of your seat to take her order.

“Hi!” You inwardly cringed at your cheery employee voice. “What can I get you?”

“A venti cinnamon dolce latte, please.” She grinned, sliding exact change over, already knowing the price by heart.

God, she was adorable.

“Oh, also, could you maybe tell me the name of this song?” She smiled, gesturing to the speakers that happened to be playing music that you had selected.

You were bursting with pride as you pulled her drink together. She liked your music. Yours.

“Of course!” As you slipped a protective sleeve onto the cup, you pulled out the Sharpie that was perched behind your ear and scribbled out, Blue Velvet - Lana Del Rey, before handing it to her.

She looked down, eyes following your note as her smile grew. “Thank you so much!” Reaching over, she pushed a ten dollar bill into the tip box, sending you a heart-stopping smile before exiting the coffee house as quickly as she had left.

Frozen on the spot, you stared at the door that had already closed, the doorbell echoing softly, full of a blush and a heart that just couldn’t slow down.

Mackie looked up from her magazine, cocked an eyebrow and took a pointed bite of her apple.

“Jesus, you have it bad.”

No amount of denial would change the fact that she was utterly correct.

The next morning, Pippa whooshed through the door, looking pretty as always and rubbing her hands together from the cold winter outside. She was humming a song, and it wasn’t until she had pulled up to the counter that you realized it was the very same song you had written on her cup yesterday. Your heart did a tapdance.

“Hi there! Can I get a-”

“Venti cinnamon dolce latte?” You offered a shy smile.

“Yes!” She exclaimed, a little louder than she had planned, and blushing. “I do come here a lot, don’t I.”

Mackie coughed from behind the panini press, something that sounded dangerously close to the word, “whipped”.

Pippa tilted her head, listening to the speakers that were, again, playing your music.

“Jeez, it’s like every time you come in here, you’re playing music I like! Can I get the name of this one too?” She smiled sheepishly.

“Of course!” You blurted. “You like French music?”

“Oh yes! I love the language. Always wished I could speak it.”

“Me too,” you smiled, pulling out your Sharpie to add, Ava - Coeur de Pirate to her cup.

Giving you a word of thanks, she sent you a beautiful smile and swept out the door and on her way. This girl was killing you with her wonderful smile, her great taste in music, the way she dressed, talked, and sang your favourite songs under her breath. God, there was no way you could survive the shift without poring over your song selection to find the perfect song for tomorrow morning. The day would not end fast enough.

The “music incidents” as you and Mackie had come to know them, kept going throughout the week. Every morning, your infatuation would appear like an angel at the door, right on time, always humming the last song you had suggested. Sometimes she even sang it under her breath and your world pretty much exploded. Always, she would ask after your song choice.

On Monday, her cup said The Only Thing - Sufjan Stevens.

Tuesday, it read Sleepwalk - Santo & Johnny.

Wednesday morning brought, Sea of Love - Cat Power.

Thursday was marked with, Someone New - Hozier.

Mackie was certain that it was her way of hitting on you, but you, on the other hand, summed it up as some angelic kindness on her part. After all, this girl was practically perfect in every way. In what twisted, upside down world would someone of this league and stature want anything to do with you and your disorganized playlists? It was too good to be true, and though Mackie tried (more than once and in many different ways) to prove that you were wrong, the concept was simply too unfathomable.

After the Thursday shift had come and gone and you had been nearly run off your feet with grumpy New York inhabitants, grumpy before their first touch of caffeine, you slouched into a leather chair next to an equally tired Mackie.

“I think I know what I’m gonna do.” You mumbled, eyes closing to gather your thoughts.

“And what exactly would that be? Gape at her beauty some more? Keep giving her song names and nothing else? Memorize her coffee order and never get her number? Stare at her agai-”

“Mackie, no. I’m gonna make her a mixtape.”

There was a pause and you opened your eyes to gauge your best friend’s reaction. She glanced over at you, expression serious now.

“I think that’s the best goddamn idea you’ve had since you decided to join me in this horrible barista job. Now get home, you’ve got a lot of work to do. I’ll close up.” She sent you a lopsided grin.

“Oh my God, seriously? Yes, you are the best Mackie, I love you, I promise to-”

“(Y/N), I didn’t give you free time just for you to waste it. I’ll close up. Now get the hell out of my coffee shop.”

There was no point in throwing away the opportunity.

A quick bus ride and a two-block-walk later, you had arrived comfortably at home and got straight to work. A few weeks ago, you had bought a few blank cassette tapes, planning on making some birthday playlists for some close friends and family when the time came. Thank God for that. Immediately, you pulled up all your music on your phone, sifting through it and marvelling at how many of the songs reminded you of the beautiful girl who appeared in your dreams.

It took two hours to finish the tape, and you realized that doing so was not easy. A load of calculation went into how to fit the songs on both sides, and that wasn’t even mentioning the twenty minutes you wasted trying to find the perfect song to start the playlist with. By the time everything was finished, your eyes had been strained so badly that it was hard to write out the names of the songs and artists on the slip of paper in the cassette case, but it was worth it. Your motivation stemmed from excitement to see her face when she saw your gift. Hopefully, it would lead to a nice enough segway into asking her out on a date, but for now your focus was entirely on the mixtape in front of you.

As you fell asleep that night, your stomach flipped in waves of anticipation and nervousness. It was like being a high school kid again, the night before the Valentine’s Day dance where you were planning to ask your crush for a slow dance. Except, this was real life, not a dream, and you were an adult, which meant people were quicker to judge and expectations were easily crushed, stabbed, punched in the face and run over with a bus just for good measure.

Pippa (or whatever her name might be) seemed to be different. Her smile promised warm hugs and her laugh made you want to hold her hand and there was just something about the way she sang that hit your heart like a warm bath against tired skin. She was the epitome of beautiful and it wasn’t just a coincidence that she appeared so frequently in your dreams.

Before you went to sleep that night, you wrote out a neat title on the cassette: For the girl who likes cinnamon dolce lattes.

No morning before a confession can be fully complete without an almost complete freak-out. The clock was speeding towards 5:36 and Mackie had spent the past half hour trying to quell your fears.

“She’s going to hate it, I look so creepy, oh God, why am I doing this?”

“Because you like her. And you made this awesome playlist and you are going to give it to her and ask her on a date.”

“I can’t,” you breathed, head in your hands as you quaked at the very thought. “I can’t do this, I really can’t-”

“(Y/N) (L/N).” The decisive way she threw your name out, like it was a command, caught your attention. “You listen to me and you listen hard. You stayed up all night making this disgustingly adorable mixtape for a girl you like. You put time into this. If she doesn’t appreciate it, then she’s not worth all the fuss and bother and frankly, I don’t want you going out with someone who can’t appreciate the work you put in. This is going to happen, and it’s going to happen well. Now get yourself together, stand up, and face her. That’s right.”

She stood you up with a firm grasp, turning to the counter to retrieve the cassette you had banished and pressed it into your hands just as the doorbell rang. You mouthed a silent, thank you, before moving slowly but surely to the till to take Pippa’s order.

“Hey! Just the regular.” She threw you a grin that sent your mind into a tornado as you typed her total out, taking her money with mechanical movements.

“Sounds good,” you managed, but your voice was weak and wavering.

As you reached for a cup to scribble her name down, her eyes widened as she caught sight of what you had still clasped in your hand.

“Oh! Is that a cassette?”

“What?” You almost jumped, realizing that you had it in plain sight and quickly hid it in the pocket of your apron. Quickly, you busied herself making her drink. “Um, y-yeah. Yeah it is.”

“That’s so cool. I have a tape player at home but nothing is on cassette anymore, so I’m not sure if there’s a point.” She sent you a sad smile as you topped her drink with a black plastic lid.

“It should come in handy one day.” You replied with a watery smile of your own, passing over the cardboard cup.

“I hope so! Thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She waved over her shoulder, still smiling before walking out the door.

The cassette hung heavy in your pocket, full of regrets and ultimately, a plastic reminder that you had completely failed. You were just accepting defeat when Mackie hurried over and grabbed your sleeve, tugging on it viciously.

“Go after her.”

Something about the way she said it pushed you right into gear and before you knew it, you were hurrying out of Starlight Grounds and into the morning crowd of West 46th Street, still clad in your green barista apron and armed with a cassette for a beautiful girl. A familiar head of hair caught your eye and you wasted no time in hurrying forward.

Your voice seemed to take control of its own fate and without even noticing, you called out her name.

“Pippa!”

Her head whipped around and she startled as she realized it was you, but waded back towards where you stood on the sidewalk.

“Oh my God, (Y/N), hi.”

“Wait. You know my name?” You stared at her in shock.

“Of course. It’s on your nametag.” She grinned, pointing.

That was more than embarrassing.

“Oh. Right.” Rubbing a hand over your face, you steeled your nerves. “Listen, I just…I wanted to give you something.”

Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out the tape gingerly and offered it to her in an open palm.

“This-This is for you. I made it. It’s got all these songs I thought you’d like since you always ask me about the music I play so, I thought you would appreciate it?”

She stared, breathless at the gift and reached forward, picking it up with awe in her eyes.

“This is…oh my goodness, (Y/N), this is too much. I can’t believe you did this for me.” Looking up, she grabbed your hands, giving a wide smile. “Thank you. Really.”

“Anytime.” You smiled, giving her hand a squeeze as your heart fluttered in your chest.

“Hey, would you…like to go grab — well, maybe not coffee, ‘cause you must be sick of that — but do you wanna get dinner with me some time?” She asked, blushing badly as she stared at where your hands were clasped.

“I was just about to ask you that.” You grinned. “Yes. Of course, I’d love to.”

She let out a delighted giggle that made your knees weak. “Awesome. What’s your number? I’ll call you.” When Pippa appeared at your door the next night, right on time at eight o' clock, she was holding a mixtape with your name on it.

[sunshinemiranda]

Cotton Candy - Okieriete Onaodowan x Reader

Summary: Based on a carnival prompt, the reader runs the cotton candy stand (by accident) at the carnival. Oak wants to talk to her, but needs an excuse. 

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff. Literally. And like one swear word?

Word Count: 2,550 (I got so carried away)

A/N: I’ve been a little stuck recently with my final chapter of First Impressions, so I used this to loosen up a little, and it turned out great! I hope you enjoy it. This is based on a prompt from sweet, sweet @alexanderhamllton! Love you to bits. 

askbox | masterlist

The sixth time he came up to the stand, you realized it wasn’t just for the cotton candy.

Realistically, you weren’t even supposed to be here. At least, at the stand. You were supposed to be enjoying a day of rollercoaster rides and the Starship Arcade with a group of your friends, not handing off pink candy to bawling kids. That wasn’t even the worst part. It was the children who thought you hadn’t heard their parent say a clear no to the cotton candy stand, trying their hardest to bat pretty eyelashes and work out “a compromise”.

Uncle Theo was the coordinator of this year’s annual carnival. He had promised a free day pass for yourself and two other friends, which you were all too happy to accept, but you should have read the fine print. The moment you had arrived, he had swept you up, placed you in a scratchy polyester staff shirt and plunked you down at the cotton candy stand before you could come up with an argument of some kind. The day was dragging out in waves upon waves of kids tugging their already tired chaperones to the machine you were trying to keep in check and the six hour shift you had promised your uncle was dripping by. You had just reached the five-hour mark when a very nervous, very not a child customer came up to trade two tickets for a treat.

The first time he came up to the stand, you didn’t think anything more than, he’s kind of pretty.

“O-One please.” His voice cracked.

“It’s, um, it’s only two tickets.” You pulled an extra from the trio he had passed over and pressed it back into his palm.

“Sorry-sorry, I just…sorry.” His hand shook slightly as he pushed the ticket back into his pocket.

“No need to apologize.” You shot him a quick smile and reached for a paper cone, leaning over the machine to start covering it in pink floss.

He waited, patiently, but the lack of a line behind him led to an awkward silence and, from the way he shuffled, it was only making his clear nervousness extremely obvious.

“It’s-It’s pretty cool that you can do that.” He mumbled.

You had just opened your mouth to deny the difficulty of the task (it really wasn’t all that hard), when a snicker came from the other side of the stand. A curly head of hair leaned over, eyes meeting the nervous man to your right.

“Oh yeah. Hardest part is the…twirling? You know, it’s just so difficult. She’s incredibly talented.”

“Shut up, Diggs.”

“Come on, Oak, you can do better than that.”

Oak, as you now knew him as, blushed and you breathed a laugh, leaning on your tiptoes over the counter.

“One cotton candy, for…Oak, right?”

He froze, a little wide-eyed. “Ye-Yeah, that’s me. Thank you.” He took it with a slight smile, stepping away with a hand still tucked in his pocket.

His friend, (Diggs?) grinned, and rocked back on his heels. “Didn’t know you even liked cotton candy.”

“I do!” He blurted, a little loudly and the colour on his cheeks worsened. “I-I do.” As he said this, he looked at you, a little frantic and you only laughed. He grabbed his friend’s arm and all but dragged him away.

A part of you was sad to see him go, but that didn’t have to last long; five minutes later, he was back, with the right amount of tickets this time, and the same friend trailing along behind him.

The second time he came up to the stand, he tried his hardest to find out what your name was. Without asking.

After ordering a second cotton candy with minor stuttering or voice cracks this time, you were painfully aware that his gaze had started straying lower than your collarbone. And then lower again.

“Hey,” you said with a grin. “My eyes are up here?”

Diggs snickered again. He was enjoying this.

Oak all but fainted of embarrassment at that. “Oh God, no, I-I’m so sorry! I was trying to read your nametag.”

You looked down at found that yes; his eyes were trained on the little piece of black plastic clipped to your shirt, which read (Y/N).

“Mm, likely excuse.”

For the second time in ten minutes, Diggs was asked, a little more frantically this time, to shut up.

You laughed, handing over the second cotton candy, and added a teasing wink. 

“It’s okay. I didn’t mind.”

He sputtered a thousand words at the same time, plucked the candyfloss from your hand, and pulled Diggs away before his friend could choke on his laughter.

He waited longer before coming back, this time, and was proud to have resisted the urge for so long. Twenty minutes later, you saw him approach.

The third time he came up to the stand, he was without a friend this time. To avoid worsening his situation.

“You really like cotton candy, huh.” You shot him a grin and he laughed a little sheepishly, handing over a routine two tickets.

“Actually, Daveed ate the last one.” He defended, throwing his hands up in a retreat.

You only laughed in response; setting to work on what would be his third cotton candy in an hour. This guy was worse than the masses of children.

“That Daveed guy,” you raised an eyebrow. “He’s, um…

“Horrible and gross and so embarrassing. I am so sorry.” His hand came up to pass tiredly over his face.

You grinned. “Not at all. I think he’s funny.”

A look of understanding and disappointment mixed as you passed a finished candyfloss to him.

“Oh, right, yeah. Of course.”

He was walking away, head down, shoulders a little hunched when you called after him.

“Oak!”

He whipped around so fast you thought he might have injured his neck. “Yeah?”

“Make sure to come back, okay? This Daveed guy may be funny but you’re my best customer.”

His smile lit up the carnival and he nodded enthusiastically, backing up and tripping over his feet in excitement.

He wasted no time in returning as quickly as possible.

The fourth time he came up to the stand, he was less nervous this time and proud of it.

“Back again?” You smiled.

“Oh, you know it.” He pressed two tickets into your hand and you noticed the change in his demeanor. No more shaky voice. “Best cotton candy in the place.”

“I’m the only cotton candy stand here.”

“Really? Dammit, I was counting on that one. Thought of it on my way over.”

It was your turn to blush now, the idea creating a little flutter in your stomach. “Well, it’s the thought that counts.”

Another silence settled as you poured a little more sugar into the machine, but it was comfortable this time, no need to fill it with a comment on your skill at making candyfloss.

“Mom! Mom, look! There’s cotton candy! You promised, remember?”

A little boy’s voice broke the spell, and Oak’s head turned the moment yours did too.

“Sweetheart, I know, but we don’t have enough tickets.”

The boy, disappointed but understanding, turned to go, but Oak shot you a look to say, wait a second, before hurrying to catch up.

“Hey! Wait, wait. I have an extra ticket. Do you want to use it?”

The fifth time he came up to the stand, an adoring eight-year-old named Toby accompanied him.

“Oh my gosh, thank you again! I’m so excited.” The child was bouncing with laughter as his mother looked on with a smile.

You made sure to make the biggest stick of cotton candy you had ever seen before. Toby’s mother had to tear him away from his new hero Oak, promising him that he could push his bedtime by another half hour to entice him. It worked, but not before Toby managed to pull a very surprised, flattered and blushy Oak into a hug.

“That was really nice, you know?” You smiled, reaching for a paper cone. It was Oak’s turn to receive his treat.  

He smiled, cheeks still flushed from being gushed over. “He’s a good kid; deserves it.”

“And so do you. Here.” You reached out and handed him his order.

He thanked you, but hesitated before backing away, as if working up the courage to say something.

“I’m off work in five,” you blurted, wincing a little at your lack of subtlety. “Just…so you know.”

He nodded, cheeks getting redder with the second. “Oh, good…that’s good. You look tired…”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, well um…see you.”

“Yeah, see you.”

As soon as he was out of sight, you smacked a hand to your forehead. What the hell was that? “Off work in five”, what is this, a high school rom-com? You shook yourself as best you could and collected your thoughts long enough to start counting the tickets in the box beside you. It wasn’t until you had finished that when two arguing voices started to clear as they neared you.

“You’re telling me you went five times, and still don’t have her number?”

“It was weird, I couldn’t just ask!”

“What the hell else were you gonna do, Oak? Sing it? Go, right now before I do it for you.”

The sixth time he came up to the stand, you realized it wasn’t just for the cotton candy. It was because Daveed Diggs was dragging him.

His friend pushed him forward, turned him to face you like a package from the mailman, gave you a grin and a wave before turning and disappearing as fast as he had come.

“Hey.” He mumbled.

“Hi.”

“So…”

“Daveed’s still causing you problems?”

“God, you have no idea.”

You laughed. “Is it always like that with him?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” He grinned back.

“So, are you gonna buy the best cotton candy at the carnival, or what?” You teased, and he laughed, reaching into his pocket for tickets.

He came up with one. The sign read “two tickets per cotton candy”.

“Shit.”

You gave a laugh, propping a hand on your hip. “Looks like you’re a poor man, Oak!”

He grinned sheepishly, backing up already. “Yeah. Sorry about this.”

“It’s fine.”

“Um…”

“Um…?”

“I-I better go find Daveed before he gets into trouble.”

“Oh.” You couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. “Okay.”

“See you around?”

“See you around.”

He turned and walked away, hands tucked into his pockets like how they had been the first time he had visited your stand, and in a split second, with the sight of him retreating, you made a decision.

You flicked the machine on, poured the straggling bits of cotton candy mix into the spinner and pulled out a paper cone. Grabbing a marker you wrote out ten digits before covering up all marks with the remaining cotton candy. It was a pitiful looking thing, but you didn’t care.

Candyfloss in hand, polyester staff shirt still scratching uncomfortably, stand locked up safely, and you, looking to the world like a woman on mission. It didn’t matter if the carnival was closing up, it didn’t matter that your cotton hoodie was not enough to cut the breeze; you would find him.

Amongst the crowd of tired citizens, holding sleeping children, couples holding hands with tired smiles; it was a crowd of people who were exhausted, but happy. Right now, you were just exhausted. But happy could be added to that if you could just get this stupid cotton candy to this stupid cute boy.

You see his familiar broad set of shoulders in the crowd, the dark hair, the way he walks with his hands tucked into pockets, and suddenly you were pushing and shoving, craning your neck as you tried to hurry to him but the current of people was too strong. Just as he was reaching the gate, you gave up and called out.

“Oak!”

His head whipped around, eyes scanning and his face lit up as he saw you. He turned immediately, pushing against the masses of people and finally found you, throngs of people flowing around your safe little bubble like water washing around a rock.

“Hi.” You murmured, blushing. Had this been a bad idea?

“Hey.” He was grinning.

“I um…I brought you a last cotton candy. This one’s on the house.”

He chuckled, reaching out to take the miserable excuse of a treat. “Thank you.”

“I’m walking to the bus stop. Are you going that way?”

He looked up, finding Daveed in the throng. An exchange of knowing smiles passed between them and Daveed disappeared, as if asked to.

“I actually think my ride just ditched so, we’re both taking the bus.” He shrugged sheepishly.

With a laugh, you started walking, the last two at the back of the masses of people exiting the carnival. He offered the paper cone to you and, you took a pinch of it, nodding in thanks. He reached down and did the same, nose wrinkling a little suspiciously as he ate the piece gingerly.

“Hey, Oak?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t like cotton candy, do you.”

“Nope. Actually, I hate it. The amount of cotton candy I have had to scarf down for the beautiful girl at the stand is enough to last me a lifetime.”

You blushed badly, teasingly elbowing him as the both of you laughed. “You didn’t have to eat it all! You could have just come and talked to me.”

“Well, I’m not good at that kind of stuff!” He defended, cheeks colouring.

“I guess it was a pretty good technique. The whole cute boy who bought five cotton candies thing swept my feet out from under me!” You smiled, and his red cheeks darkened.

“However, this cotton candy is, um…well, it’s special. But I can help you eat it.” You nodded toward the paper cone in his hand and he raised a brow but didn’t say anything, the two of you coming to a stop at the bus shelter.

“Really now?”

“Oh yeah.”

In what seemed like less than five seconds he had ripped off every lingering piece of cotton candy on the cone and shoved it in his mouth, you bursting into waves of laughter at the disgusted look on his face. When he realized, though, why this cone was special, almost choked it back out.

“Is this-“

“My number, yeah. I thought after all that effort you deserved it.” You shot him a grin.

The rumble of a bus engine caught your attention and you looked up. “This one’s mine. I’ll see you?”

He nodded, staring at your handwriting a bit distractedly. Before you could board the bus, one foot on the step and the other on the sidewalk, his voice stopped you.

“(Y/N)!” He was wringing his hands, looking down. “I really wanna see you again. Can we…can we go for lunch tomorrow?”

“I’d like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Anything but cotton candy, though.” He warned, grinning. It was the best thing you’d seen all day.