#flake solo work

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

Posted by IG account frankproftofficial...

....is Flake having a new acting gig...? ❤️

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚☀️・₊✧ 𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶'𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 & 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 ♡₊˚☀️・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 he's obsessed to the max 𖥔 ceo x baker 𖥔 grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 she talks a lot x he listens a lot 𖥔 spoils the literal shit out of you 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content in vague details 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 super soft nanami 𖥔 close proximity 𖥔 he loves kissing the fuck out of you

: ̗̀➛ words: 7.7k

: ̗̀➛ notes: you guys are so sweet for supporting my toji fanfic which is why i wanted to write another and this time its about my husband, the father of our children, the man who deserves every beautiful thing in this world. if you enjoy my work, please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy!

Nanami Kento entered your bakery at exactly six o' clock.  

You carefully observed the moments he dedicated to perusing the array of pastries, the vibrant mountain of macaroons, and the freshly baked, warm casse-croûte that you unfailingly prepared for him when he clocked out. There was a tender quality to his countenance, noticeable in the slight release of tension between his brows as the soft, buttery flakes dissolved on his tongue in your presence. Without fail, he consistently left a generous tip in your travel jar, dedicated to a solo trip to Malaysia.

"Did you know they've got this thing about not wearing yellow in Malaysia?" you mentioned during your initial meeting, eyeing the distinctive black-dotted tie worn by the stoic salaryman. "Well, not that your tie would get you in trouble; it's not entirely yellow. In fact, I think it's perfect as it is, just like your hair, which also has a touch of yellow.” 

Please cut your tongue off. 

Anticipating a polite nod and perhaps a slightly regretful five-dollar tip left in the jar, you were taken aback when he queried, “Why is that?” 

“Oh, uh . . . a bunch of protesters wore the color during a demand for their prime minister to step down," you stumbled, feeling a twinge of embarrassment for veering off into an unintentional crash course. Dropping trivia about Malaysia wasn't exactly the same as flirting. "So, it's kind of become a symbolism for protest and, well, threat. I read it in a book once. I don't know if it's a legitimate law, though."

“Do you like reading?” he asked, still interested in conversing with you. “Most people would Google information.” 

“I like reading. It’s easier to retain information that way.” 

Nanami acknowledged your gesture with a nod of gratitude as he accepted the casse-croûte and exited your bakery. Anticipating that he might not return due to his reserved nature and your awkward attempts at compliment-flirting, you were surprised to find that he was, in fact, full of surprises.

Nanami became a regular visitor. Day after day, for the past year, he arrived at precisely six o' clock. He continued his routine, whether he purchased a box of pastries, a pair of bagged bread loaves, or simply a casse-croûte and a small cup of milk coffee. You always prepared his order five minutes ahead of time, just in case you were occupied with other customers.

"Enjoy!" you chirped, casting a warm smile at the customer you just served as the bakery slowly emptied, leaving only Nanami browsing the delightful array of small cakes. "Good evening, Mr. Nanami!"

Nanami raised his head in your direction. "Good evening." He finally settled on the black forest cake from the open freezer and brought it to the counter.

"Special occasion?" you inquired as you rang him out, sneakily not charging him for the casse-croûte and coffee. There was a special occasion of your own that you were eager to share, hanging from the tip of your tongue.

"An intern's birthday."

"Sounds fun!" You had been saving up for your birthday present since summer, and Nanami had played a significant role. "When's your birthday?"

"July third."

Your eyes widened with surprise. "No way! Mine is July sixth. We’re summer babies."

“Happy belated birthday,” he said, fishing for his wallet, gaze barely meeting yours. 

"Same to you." Offering the sandwich and coffee, you extended them towards him. "Consider it a belated birthday treat."

Nanami’s brows crinkled. “I cannot accept.” 

"Why not? It's a gift." You slid the items closer with a subtle nudge, leaving him little room to refuse. "And you've given me a priceless gift, Mr. Nanami." Your eyes hinted at the tip jar's location, which now lay empty. 

“Were you robbed?” he asked, concern evident in his voice. 

“What—? No! Oh my god. You’re so funny.” A chuckle escaped behind your fist, and he observed you momentarily before glancing away. "I'm heading to Malaysia next week!"

Nanami gave a subtle nod. Although his lack of a more animated response disappointed you, you understood that shortness was his nature. "Congratulations.”

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami. Your generous tips really made a difference. They covered half of our trip.”

“Our? It’s not a solo trip?”  

You let out a little nervous laugh. Should you really be telling Nanami about your crippling love life? Would he even be interested? Well, he seemed to listen carefully when you talk. Maybe he wouldn’t care, but you really needed someone to talk to about this. Unfortunately, all your friends were too busy with their marriages to care.

“Well?” Nanami prompted. 

"Right, sorry. It's just—I've actually been seeing someone. Funny enough, we met in a Facebook group for solo travelers. He lives in a nearby town.”

Unexpectedly, Nanami's first question caught you off guard. "Can you trust him?" His concern surfaced, causing you to pause. "I'm only asking because you met this man online. You can't trust strangers on the internet."

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami, but I’m capable enough to know about stranger danger," you said with a funny smile, dismissing his parental concern. "Besides, we’ve gone on a few dates over the past month."

Nanami's frown remained intact. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you paying for him, too?"

"Yes."

“Why?” Nanami asked, firmly placing his palms on the counter, making it clear he wasn't leaving until he was convinced you wouldn't get in trouble during your Malaysian adventure.

"What do you mean 'why'?"

His mouth opened but then closed into a thin line, his forehead lines deepening. "It’s not my place to tell you what’s right and what isn’t—"

"Yes, you’re right about that," you interrupted.

"—but this is bordering on recklessness. You cannot use your trip’s money to pay for a man you’ve known for a mere month. Why is he even in the traveler’s group if he cannot afford to pay for himself?"

"Mr. Nan—"

"You are being scammed." 

Your teeth clenched together. You rarely got impatient. Years in the hospitality industry and dealing with misogynistic tenants didn't break you. Even setting up your bakery and almost draining your savings didn't dim your optimism. 

But getting scolded by someone who barely spoke more than five sentences to you in a whole year of being a regular? That's pushing it.

He didn't know you or Toji, the guy you're seeing. He didn’t understand how much you appreciated him accompanying you. So what if you covered his share of the trip expenses? Toji promised to pay you back, and he's been paying the bills for your dates. They might not be fancy, but it's the gesture that matters.

Sure, Nanami chipped in some money, and you're thankful for that. But he has no right to question you. Other people also contributed to your travel fund; it's not like he single-handedly financed the whole trip. You appreciated his support, but he was not in a position to lecture you.

With a sigh, you managed to contain your frustration and said, "Have a great rest of your night, Mr. Nanami.”

Nanami's frustration was palpable as he stood firm, his gaze piercing through the windows of your soul. “I suggest you take my advice into serious consideration. It would greatly upset me if you had the chance to visit one of your favorite countries taken from you.” 

You didn't bother watching him go. Instead, your discovery awaited you at the counter—the money for the coffee and casse-croûte lay there, accompanied by a crumpled yellow note that had slipped to the floor. Moving around the counter, you picked it up and smoothed out its wrinkles.

What greeted you was your own name scrawled across the sticky note, repeated around fifty times, the letters overlapping in a chaotic dance. Some were hastily scratched out, while others were executed with perfect cursive precision. You didn’t know what to make of it.

During your confusion, a new customer walked in. Quickly, you pocketed the note, focused on carrying on with your day despite the lingering frustration that Nanami's cryptic message had left in its wake.

Toji never showed up.

You waited for him for two agonizing hours, extending the torture even more after your flight had taken off. It dawned on you that he likely didn't bother getting a ticket. He probably pocketed the money you sent him and vanished into thin air. Every attempt to reach him failed miserably—your calls were forwarded, and the fifth one hammered the heartbreaking truth that he had blocked your number. To compound your misery, you sent him a string of text messages that refused to deliver your pain. You didn't even know where he lived, as your encounters were always in the obscure locations of your budgeted dates.

The thought of reporting him to the police crossed your mind, accusing him of theft, but the lack of photographic evidence left you helpless. To make matters worse, he hated taking pictures, and you were uncertain if the name he provided was even real. All that remained was a flicker of hope that you might cross paths with the bastard and unleash your pent-up rage with a hard kick to his dick. 

With a heavy heart, you gathered your strength, brushed away the tears until not a single trace remained on your lashes, and lugged your suitcase and carry-on outside the airport, hoping to hail a cab.

The idea of facing the upcoming days at work felt agonizing, goading you to spend them in the isolation of your shabby apartment. You were engrossed in a depressing routine—microwaved dinners, aimless hours on the couch, and a marathon of old cable TV shows.

As hunger struck again, you contemplated your options. Baking seemed like a possibility, but motivation had abandoned you. Pasta could be an option, but the lack of noodles and tomato sauce made it impractical. So, you settled for the one thing that required no ingredients: crying.

At least that was free. 

Despite the inner turmoil, you mustered the strength to shoulder your overcoat, sporting your fleece pajamas printed with candy canes and well-worn second-hand boots. 

The short walk to the corner store felt longer than usual, the biting cold making you clutch your threadbare coat tighter. Your teeth chattered in protest as you entered, and the rush of warm air was a momentary relief against the chill. Fingers numb, you mindlessly reached for familiar comfort snacks—chips, chocolate milk, anything to dull the ache.

A hand much larger than yours beat you to the last packet of croissants.

“Ah, sorry.” You let it go. “All yours—” You choked as you looked up, and up, at Nanami staring at you wide-eyed, his hazel eyes flickering at a rapid speed as if he were hallucinating your presence. Your face flushed with embarrassment, and the weight of the past five days crammed upon you—his uncanny prediction, your own naivety, and the sting of being swindled. “Mr. Nanami . . . ”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in—”

“Good night.”

With a dismissive shake of your head, you left the basket on the counter, mumbled a quick apology, and retreated back into the biting cold. 

You’ve faced tons of humiliating moments—slipping in front of customers, your purse strap getting snagged in a door and dragging you back, and that one unforgettable instance when a little boy labeled your eyebrows as caterpillars in front of a line of onlookers. Yet, none of those incidents could hold a candle to the awkwardness of bumping into the very man who had warned you about the ill-fated choice of paying for a stranger's trip—stranger now—when it was supposed to be your trip. 

You felt a firm grip on your wrist, making your restless pacing suddenly stop.

Startled, you turned around to find a pair of expressionless hazel eyes and a slightly out-of-breath figure. Now is not the time to ogle Mr. Nanami’s broad shoulders, you idiot!

Releasing your wrist, he handed over a white, plastic bag. With a raised eyebrow, you peered inside to inspect its contents. It held everything from your shopping basket, including the last packet of croissants. Even more unexpected, he had paid for it all. 

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” you assured, your eyes already scanning for the nearest ATM, just in case you forgot. "But for now." You pulled out the packaged croissants and extended them toward him. Your body was shaking, not because of November but because of how you were scammed after being forewarned by Nanami. “Please. Take it.” 

He took your small hand in both of his, the warmth immediately melting the tension in your body. “So cold.” 

A soft giggle escaped you at the obvious observation, and you placed your free hand on top of his. "So warm." Sniffling, tears welled up in your eyes. "You know what else is warm? The sun. And it's yellow. It's so yellow."

“Factually speaking, it is white.” 

You wiped an arm across your nose. “What?” 

“The sun. It’s white. It’s only yellow in children's books.” 

You weren't about to argue with the guy who vindicated your slip-ups. Still, given the circumstances, you wished he'd soften the bluntness and let you bask in the illusion that the sun was a simple shade of yellow.

"I've always loved the color yellow," you mumbled. "Maybe getting scammed was a blessing. I'd probably get fined for wearing yellow otherwise. I couldn't afford to mess up on my trip. Besides, it all depends on the shade, right? Imagine how many fines I'd rack up just testing which shade of yellow suits me—"

Nanami tugged you close, capturing your lips with his.

A sharp intake of breath filled your lungs, eyes widening in surprise. Instinctively, your hands pushed him away, fingers grazing your tingling lips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay. Don’t—Don’t worry. About it.” You tucked your lips in and tasted chocolate and mint—two of your favorite combinations. Nanami always seemed like the kind of man who would hate both flavors independently and dependently. “You’re okay. I mean—You’re okay in general. You’re not okay with kissing. You’re probably great, I’m sure.” Your tongue traced the curve of your lower lip, and Nanami’s eyes followed the motion. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.” 

You walked up to him, grabbed the lapels of his coat, and tugged him down a notch, your lips colliding with his. 

Nanami's touch was calculated, his hand sailing onto your cheek, feeding warmth to your cold ear before vanishing into the labyrinth of your hair. Simultaneously, the other serpentined to the small of your back, his magnetic energy drawing you snugly against his chest. His warm tongue delicately swept across your lower lip, an unspoken cue that encouraged you to part your lips in response.

Nanami deepened the kiss, your tongues stroking against one another feverishly as if it were your last kiss. Who knows? Maybe it could’ve been. But the way he kissed with such desperation, releasing soft moans, not allowing you a moment to catch your breath, made you think that maybe this was just the start.

And you kissed him back just as needy.

If your hands slightly released their hold on his lapels, you'd gently cup the sides of his neck, rising on your tiptoes. And if your calves protested, you'd draw him down, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers entwining in his pale, golden locks. The taste of mint chocolate lingered on your lips, and a smile curved on your mouth as he stole a quick peck, pulling back just to gaze into your eyes for a moment before kissing you again.

You’re not sure how long you two stood and kissed there. Nanami was the one who always took the lead, savoring the taste of your pink, tender tongue, kissing your chilly cheeks and dewy eyes. The desire for each other made it hard to break away, yet the need for a breath of air was undeniable.

Finally, you decided to be the one to step back, signalling the end of your first kiss with him.

Your bottom lip tingled as you pulled it in, jaw aching from the infectious smile that had taken over your face. You couldn't help stealing glances at the tall man before you, who returned your gaze with a soft, almost imperceptible grin. Yet, in his eyes, under the gentle glow of the streetlight, you could see the excitement and joy of kissing you, twinkling brightly.

“I'm gonna—”

“I should—”

Both of you sighed; you with a soft chuckle, and him with a discreet throat-clearing.

“I've already missed quite a few workdays,” you said. “Gotta earn that dough if I want to make next month’s rent.” Nanami didn’t quite catch your bakery pun, but he nodded in agreement.

“Right,” you murmured, subtly veering to the side, putting on a little show as you started to walk away. You admitted it—you were a hopeless romantic. You secretly hoped for him to steal a kiss on your cheek and watch until you safely disappeared around the corner. “I’m off now.”

“Goodnight,” Nanami replied, subtly licking his lips for the sixteenth time. Yes, you were keeping count. 

“Night-night.” 

Nanami strolled down his end of the sidewalk. You followed suit, turning down your street. 

Luck had only sometimes been on your side when it came to men and their romantic gestures. Oh well. At least you experienced a passionate kiss from one of your favorite customers. Asking for more seemed a bit too much—

A hand gently pressed against your back, and as you turned, it gracefully curved around your waist, drawing you in. Nanami caught your gasp and kissed you with an urgency that doubled, holding onto you as if his life depended on it, lifting you off your toes. Three sweet pecks later, he released you, both of your faces flushed.

"Get home safely," he whispered, walking away without a second glance.

That night, you couldn't help but giggle into your mascara-stained pillow.

The morning after, you were a whirlwind of joy and light, twirling through the bakery with trays of freshly baked pastries, replenishing boxes and take-out essentials. You greeted customers with an extra dose of sweetness, and to top it off, you even handed out a tray of delectable chocolate jam cookies. And you wore a yellow bow in your hair. 

The oven beeped as the casse-croûtes finished baking, signaling their readiness for Nanami's arrival in just five minutes. You took special care in preparing his milk coffee, indulging in a quiet chuckle at your undeniable favoritism. Though the neighborhood bakery wasn't bustling with a large customer base, your attention was solely dedicated to him—your only regular as everyone else buzzed in the distant city an hour away.

With his coffee prepared and two casse-croûtes packed, you added a chocolate-mint cookie to the bag. Then, you decided to rearrange the shelves of gift baskets to pass the time. 

Setting up the ladder, you ascended the shaky steps until you were eye to eye with the fifth shelf. Heights were never your forte, which, in hindsight, was another reason why flying to Malaysia was out of the question. The more you thought about being scammed, the more your heart wrenched from your lost trip. You’d again brought out your tip jar and prayed the odds were in your favor. Hell, maybe you’d ask Nanami to join you if you decided to take your relationship to the next level. 

As you secured the bow on the basket, your gaze landed on the clock—6:30 p.m., and Nanami was a no-show. 

Anxiety surged through you in an instant.

Did he leave you hanging? Maybe that kiss was a turnoff, and he chose to disappear rather than be upfront about finding you too overwhelming. Did your breath smell bad? Were you a terrible kisser? Or, worse, did something happen to him?

A torrent of worries flooded your mind, breaking through like a burst dam. Each imagined scenario seemed more nightmarish than the last, causing your head to spin. Recent events, like Toji's betrayal, fueled this self-doubt, made you question your intuition. While Nanami was clearly wealthy, consistently tipping a twenty each day, you found yourself questioning whether he had plans to use you for something else. As if that weren't enough, doubts crept in about your appearance and your optimistic, extroverted personality.

It started to make sense, didn't it? Nanami led a tranquil life, sticking to a routine of work and home, while you were a whirlwind of spontaneity—constantly buzzing with new ideas and discussions, unable to sit still or resist laughter at the silliest jokes. Everything seemed to fascinate you, yet nothing appeared to faze him. How could you have been so naive to entertain the thought—

“Good evening.” 

“Ah!” you yelped at the sudden baritone intruding into your thoughts. Your foot, betrayed by the unexpected intrusion, lost its balance on the step. Your arms flailed in a desperate attempt to find stability as you teetered backward, the impending hazard of a severe concussion and potential spinal cord injury looming.

But just as you were prepared to shake hands with God, Nanami's powerful arms swooped in at the last possible moment. With a secure hold, he cradled you in a bridal style, and you clung to him like a shaking puppy, arms looped around his neck.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his breath slightly labored.

You gingerly peeled one eye open to peek at him. His expression was one of calm disorientation; eyebrows knit together while his lips maintained a straight, tight line.

"Yes," you whispered, soothed by his timely intervention.

Nanami steadied you back onto your feet but maintained a firm grip on your elbows. “Look at me.” As you did, he inspected each eye closely while keeping his hand steady on your left cheek. He checked below your jaw, down to your dusty palms, which he cleaned with his silk handkerchief. He also patted down your tousled hair. "Are you sure you're okay?"

“Mm-hmm.” You could cry from how gentle he was with you. “A-Are you okay?” 

“I am now.” He took a composed breath and effortlessly retrieved his suitcase from the floor, brushing off invisible dust. “I apologize for being late. My . . . car broke down.” 

"What? Oh my god! Do you need me to give you my mechanic's number? I promise he's not as bad as the Google reviews say. He's actually quite a sweet man. And he gives me a friends and family discount because my father was close with him." You beamed, and Nanami squinted his eyes as if the brightness of your smile momentarily blinded him, but he tried his best to reciprocate.

“Do your parents live here?” 

You shook your head. “They passed away a while ago.” 

“I apologize.” 

"Don't be." You quickly switched subjects by fluttering towards the counter to pick up his items. “Tell me how your coffee tastes.” You turned around, adding, “I switched to a new brand of milk—”

Nanami pressed his lips against yours, momentarily freezing you. His seamless transition afterward could have fooled an onlooker into thinking you'd been married for years. "Thank you.” He took a sip and nodded thoughtfully. “It’s great. Everything you make is great.” 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, sudden shyness enveloping you. From the kiss? The compliment? Him? You didn’t know at all. “Do you still need me to give you the mechanic’s number?” 

“It’s all right. I had it fixed. Minor battery issue, that’s all.” 

“Ah, okay. See, that’s why I prefer to walk.” 

Nanami glanced elsewhere, nodding. “Then, would you like to walk with me after you’ve closed?” 

“Oh.” A subtle flicker of surprise crossed your features. Nonchalantly, you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear before smiling warmly. “Of course, yes. I’d love to go on a walk with you. Where are we going? There are lots of cafés in a nearby shopping district. I know all the best places to take you to.” A grave thought struck you just then. “Oh, actually. Hmm.” 

Curious, he tilted his head down, meeting your worried gaze. "What is it?"

"Well," you began, your thoughts taking a cautious turn, "you probably have a set time to be home unless you live nearby. In that case, we could spend the entire evening strolling around. Only if you're interested, of course."

Nanami’s lips twitched. “I live nearby.” 

“Where?” You weren’t ashamed to have been so upfront. It was more of a precautionary measure. 

And he didn't seem bothered, quickly revealing the familiar neighborhood you instantly recognized. It was a fifteen-minute walk from your own place.

"May I step out momentarily to make a call?" Nanami asked, pulling out his phone. It was the latest model you noticed—one that came out last week and mocked your own that was five versions older. “It will be quick.” 

“By all means.” You had to fix your hair and make-up anyway. 

Nanami nodded and exited the shop, leaving you to flee behind the counter. As you crouched down to check yourself in the small mirror tucked away in the lower drawer, you couldn't help but feel a warmth on your face from the unexpected collapse, the sweet, brief kiss, and his impeccable navy blue suit decorated with yellow cufflinks. Maybe a café was too casual for him; a restaurant might have been a more suitable choice. An expensive choice. However, you were adamant about not letting Nanami cover the entire cost.

Upon his return, five minutes later, you both settled at one of the three round tables in your bakery (he even pulled out your chair for you). Sipping on your coffees and enjoying the casse-croûtes and chocolate pastries, the conversation seemed somewhat one-sided. Yet, Nanami's aloof demeanor never made you feel inferior for dominating the dialogue. He listened to every word and vowel with his undivided attention, nodding alongside and adding in short sentences when he could relate to your childhood shenanigans. 

"Wait," he interrupted, causing you to halt in your tracks. The sun cast a warm glow on his face, making his eyes narrow into slits, but God did he look handsome. He extended his hand and brushed a thumb near your lips, discovering a small chocolate smudge. Swiftly, he licked it clean and tidied up the area around your lips with a napkin. "Beautiful."

“What?” 

Nanami was a deer in headlights. He sunk his head, beating himself up from murmuring his thoughts aloud—at least, that’s what you concluded. "You look beautiful," he declared with more assurance, his gaze on your face. "You are beautiful, Y/N."

Oh, my. 

Your heart was going to claw itself out of your chest. You could cook an egg on your face from how heated it had gotten. In fact, you were burning hotter than the sun, which continuously made him squint and blink. “Thank you.” 

He nodded twice, finishing the remnants of his coffee. Rising, he disposed of the cups and wrappers in the garbage bin, then extended a hand to help you stand. "I'll wait outside while you close up."

At a lightning pace, you ensured that everything in the bakery was safely unplugged and shut off. Grabbing your purse, you gave yourself a quick once-over in the mirror, adjusting your face and hair. Stepping outside, you meticulously locked the door and gates.

Without a word, Nanami entwined his fingers with yours, causing you to smile like an idiot at him. He maintained a straight, vigilant gaze, seemingly unresponsive as you wrapped yourself around his arm. A subtle smirk tugged at your lips when you felt his muscles flex.

You walked for hours, café-hopping and trying pastries, baked goods, and sweet drinks. Every time Nanami attempted to cover the expenses with his cash, you scolded him, insisting that since you had suggested the place, you should be the one to pay. It was a rule you had read about online, and all your friends stuck to it religiously. The thought of Nanami spending his hard-earned money on your interests made you feel incredibly guilty.

As a matter of fact, you were feeling guilty about tons of things. He told you he worked at an investment firm, which meant it was a nine-to-five, likely sporting a migraine he kept hidden, and now he was being dragged around the shopping district by you, forced to listen to you because he was a man who didn’t complain, wouldn’t complain, and long, story short, you wanted to die. 

“Kento,” you muttered, removing your hand from his, goosebumps rippling on your skin. 

“Yes, darling?” 

Your chest felt like it was being clenched in a fist. “I'm . . . I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“For making you do all this. For making you pay for everything. For dragging you around when you're probably on the verge of exhaustion." Avoiding his gaze, you fixed your eyes on the concrete beneath you. “I know I can be too much sometimes—well, all the time.” A self-deprecating chuckle escaped your lips. "Exes in my past relationships have made it clear. I get overly excited easily, crave attention like one needs oxygen, trust people too easily to the point of getting scammed, and, well, I don't bring anything particularly special to the table. I'm sorry, Kento. Maybe it's best if we just stay friends?”

Nanami’s soft fingers lifted your chin up. Your words absolutely shattered his face, leaving you to feel worse than before. His lips were parted into a frown, his brows were scrunched up, brown irises flickering like he couldn’t believe you said that. This was the most reaction he had given you in the year that you’ve known him. 

“No,” he said. 

You blinked the tears gathered at your waterline. “No?” 

“No.” Nanami took a calming breath, closing his eyes. His forehead gently pressed against yours. “Please, let me be selfish for this once. For you. I can’t let you go—I won’t let you go."

"Kento—"

"I want to do this, Y/N. I want to pay for everything. I want you to drag me around because I’ll never be too tired for you.” Nanami drew back and cradled your sobbing face in his large hands. “I know I fail to show it, darling, but I love your excitement. I love paying attention to every detail of you because you’ve become my oxygen source. You’re a good, kindhearted woman, and anyone would be lucky to be seen by you. And you don’t have to bring anything to the table because there isn’t one dividing us, keeping us lengths apart.” His lips brushed your forehead, imprinting his words into your mind. "I want us to be more than just friends. I want us to be best friends. Lovers. In this life and the ones that follow."

You could explode. 

Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, seeking support as if the ground beneath you was about to crumble. Yet, you knew he would catch you, just as before. He was so real, embracing you wholly, both of you breathing in each other's scents to confirm a human like this could exist. How grateful you were he stumbled into your bakery that one rainy night, and how grateful he was that you offered him free coffee and a casse-croûte while he was freezing and trembling. His presence brought life to your bakery, gave you something to look forward to when you were at your lowest, and you gave him . . . everything. You were his everything since the first day. 

As the shared silence lingered, Nanami's phone shattered the moment, its noisy ring cutting through the haze. You instinctively stepped back, but he clung to your hand as if afraid you might slip away.

Never, Nanami Kento. You’re stuck with me. 

When he took out his phone, you caught a glimpse of the contact name: Satoru (assistant). 

Before you could process the fact Nanami had an assistant, he swiped right. “Yeah?” 

The voice on the other end resonated with loud cheerfulness in the quiet alleyway. Nanami half-rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Very well. Leave it there. I’ll be there when I want to.” 

The assistant chuckled and sang his goodbye, the cheerful tone abruptly cutting off as Nanami ended the call and slid his phone back into his pocket.

“Do all stockbrokers have assistants?” 

He tilted his head. “I’m not a stockbroker.” 

“Oh? I’m sorry. I assumed because you worked at an investment firm.” 

“Yes, I was a stockbroker.” He nodded, warming your hand in his, then casually added, “But I own a firm now.” 

Your brows hit your hairline. “That’s amazing!” 

“Thank you. We have several locations around the country. Kento Investments. Have you heard of it?” 

Heard of it? You were a client some time ago when you were starting your bakery. All you encountered were glowing reviews about their ethical practices, a refreshing leave from the scheming ways of most investment firms that had previously taken advantage of you. It stood out as the industry leader in your research, and the team was lovely in guiding you through the process, so much so that you even invited them to your grand opening.

"Ah, you have." Nanami grinned, gently tilting your chin upward and closing your gaping mouth. "Therefore, my darling, don't feel guilty about me covering the expenses. I'm quite secure in my position to support both of us for centuries."

All you could manage was a disbelieving chuckle as you rested your forehead against his chest. Taking it as an invitation, he embraced you, crowning you with kisses. 

Lifting your head, you said, "There's something I want to get for you."

"What is it?"

Hand-in-hand, you pulled him back toward the bustling district, the sound of his deep laughter echoing in the air. Your own laughter naturally joined in.

As you strolled past a vendor selling accessories, your attention was drawn to an item you had briefly noticed earlier in your walk. Although you planned to purchase it the following day and surprise him in the afternoon, tonight felt like the perfect moment.

Politely approaching the elderly vendor, you asked, "Could I please try those on?" He handed you a pair of round sunglasses with a green tint to the lenses. Standing on your toes, you carefully placed the glasses on Nanami's nose, adjusting them to sit perfectly on the bridge. The sides of the spectacles featured a stylish steampunk design that complemented his narrow, sharp features. "Handsome.”

"I'll take it.” Nanami reached for his wallet. However, you were one step ahead, swiftly bringing out the spare change you had set aside in your coat pocket. You had already calculated the price, ready to outsmart him in this little game of charity.

“Y/N.” 

“Thank you,” you said to the shop vendor, ignoring Nanami’s stare. 

“Y/N.” 

“Yes, darling?" You looped around his arm and began your stroll down the sidewalk. “Oh, come on. Let me be selfish and treat you once in a while.” You cut off his protests with a kiss. 

He surrendered instantly. 

Over the next four weeks, you didn’t realize how quickly you’d become comfortable with Nanami. Like clockwork, he would arrive at your bakery, patiently occupying a table until your duties with customers or decorating displays finished. Now resembling a vibrant florist shop, the bakery owed its transformation to Nanami's thoughtful gestures—bouquets of flowers in every shade of yellow, orange, and white became an amusing routine. As you arranged them in vases, you would burst into fits of giggles like a maniac. 

You and him were like a Venn diagram, overlapping in unexpected places. He enjoyed non-fiction, classics, and history books; you immersed yourself in the world of romance and mystery novels. TV nights were a compromise between his love for documentaries and your penchant for anything sappy on Netflix, occasionally spicing things up with a true-crime documentary. His fascination with astronomy met your fixation with astrology, and surprisingly, he didn't scoff when you read the lines on his palms. Instead, he appreciated it just as much as you cherished his nightly photos of the moon and his ability to name the stars above.

At least, you were both Team Cats.

Nanami introduced you to his friends, including his quirky assistant Gojo, who had a habit of shamelessly flirting with you, seemingly just to get under Nanami's skin. However, your boyfriend was secure enough not to let it bother him. Yet, a trace of possessiveness would emerge during sex—when the two of you were entwined in bed, bodies bared and bathed in the aftermath of shared sweat.

Exiting the restaurant after a delightful dinner date, Nanami turned to you and suggested, "I'd like to invite you to my home tonight."

Finally, you thought, resisting the urge to dip your toes into the topic of visiting his home, especially considering he had been a frequent guest at yours.

The fact that he lived nearby had always puzzled you; he mentioned it casually yet never extended an invitation for a simple coffee or a chat on his welcome mat. Weekends saw him working from your living room, staying overnight, but on weekdays, he'd only spend a brief hour or two with you before heading home, a practice that seemed counterintuitive given his closeness. Despite the confusion, you hesitated to jeopardize your relationship by fishing too deeply.

So far, Nanami hadn't given you any reason to doubt him.

"Are you sure?" you asked cautiously.

"Absolutely, darling.” Nanami took your hand and planted a small kiss on the back of it. "I apologize for the delay. I've been having it . . ." He casually flicked up his sunglasses that had slipped. ". . . renovated."

“Oh, I see. Well, in that case, I’d love to!” 

Nanami nodded and leaned down to kiss your cheek. “Thank you for being so patient. I know it was eating you alive. You're not exactly the master of hiding your emotions.” He gave you a small smile and kissed your cheek again. 

You responded with a smile that crinkled your nose. "Just a bit anxious, that's all."

"Understandable.” He guided you toward his neighbourhood, exchanging a warm smile as you nestled against his arm. Observing the goosebumps on your skin and the faint shivers, he realized you had forgotten your cardigan. Without hesitation, he removed his blazer and draped it around your shoulders, helping you slip your arms through the sleeves and buttoning it up.

You took a deep breath, inhaling the pleasant scent from the collars. "You always smell so good."

Nanami bent down, kissing the side of your neck right above your racing pulse. "As do you," he murmured against your skin. "Always."

“Gosh, you're so flirty,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his midsection and burying your face in his chest.

“Come on now.” 

You walked for another ten minutes, taking a five-minute pit stop to pet a stray cat before stopping in front of a towering residence building. It was one of those extravagant ones boasting a fountain in the lobby and a vigilant security guard who greeted Nanami with a two-finger salute.

Hand on your back, Nanami guided you toward the elevator with mirrors on all sides.

He exuded an air of sophistication in his neatly rolled-up black dress shirt, complemented by beige pants. His pale, blond hair was slicked back, a Rolex clasped his wrist, and veins corded his well-defined forearms. The sunglasses you had given him rested atop his head. 

As Nanami caught your eyes on the reflective surfaces, a sudden blush warmed your cheeks. “What is it?” 

“Nothing,” you whispered, fingers idly playing with the golden butterfly bracelet he had given you on the night he asked you to be his girlfriend. “I was just . . . God, you’re so beautiful. Sometimes, I think I’m dreaming of you. And I don’t want to wake up from it.” 

Nanami released his grip on your hand, wrapping his arm around your waist. He tilted your chin upward and planted a lecherous kiss on your lips. As you stumbled backward, your back met the cool surface of a mirror, and you clung to his biceps. He continued kissing your jaw and nibbling at your neck.

“Ken—Wait, there’s a camera!” 

“I own the building.” 

Without allowing you to react, he kissed you fervently, his hands framing your face and his knee pressing between your legs. Your hips ground against the muscled surface, creating a heated friction that drew a moan from him.

The elevator dinged, signaling its arrival, but Nanami was undeterred. He refused to break the kiss. Lifting you effortlessly, he cradled you with a single forearm beneath your backside and your arms encircling his neck. Laughter echoed as you entered directly into the main corridor of his penthouse.

“Your front door is an elevator?” You marveled with an open jaw. 

“Yes, it seems so.”

Oh, how you loved his monotonous replies. 

Nanami gently placed you onto the expansive white surface of his couch, smoothly moving over your body to continue. 

“I knew you were a clean freak,” you said between his kisses, “but your penthouse looks like it was bought this morning.” 

“Two weeks ago.” He kisses down your neck, sideways toward your left shoulder. “That’s why I waited to invite you. Gojo was having the place decorated. I've installed a library for you, too. We can go book-shopping this weekend.” 

"Wait, what?" You pushed him back by his chest, incredulous. "Hold on, hold on, hold on. You mean to tell me you moved in just two weeks ago?"

"Yes," he answered, tilting his head slightly perplexedly. "When you asked about my residence, I panicked and couldn't come up with a proper answer, fearing you might decline my invitation for a walk. So, I bought this building from the previous owner on the spot. There are also commercial benefits. Quite a strategic move, if you ask me." With that, Nanami resumed his attention, focusing on kissing your collarbones and skillfully lowering your dress, exposing your chest to him.

But you were still stuck on the subject like a pesky fruit fly. “But you don’t live here?” 

“I don’t.” His mouth brushed over the mound of your left breast. “I live in Shibuya.” 

“Shibuya? Kento, that’s an hour and a half away!"

"Hmm." He glanced up, mouth sucking at your nipple.

"You've been faithfully coming to my city every single day, all the way from Shibuya, for a whole year? You've been burning all that gas just to be with me?"

He broke away to say, "Gojo drives me occasionally," and switched to your right breast.

"Nanami Kento, are you out of your mind?"

Finally, he released you and sighed. "I fail to see the issue here." He appeared so innocent, with his moist lips, tousled hair, and a crumpled dress shirt. 

You hurriedly sat up, readjusting your dress, which seemed to displease him. "I'm at a loss for words." Your gaze caught the weariness etched on his face, the bags under his eyes, the slow, heavy blinks signaling his desperate need for sleep. "You haven't actually been living here, have you?"

Upon hearing that, Nanami let out a weary sigh. "I do it when I'm too drained to make the drive back on weekdays."

As the details of his schedule fell into place, you flinched inwardly. He would rise at the crack of dawn, dedicate endless hours to handling clients at the office, and then endure a lengthy drive to your city, only to spend his evenings with you before leaving around midnight to return to Shibuya. The only time he would stay overnight at your place was on Saturdays, and he would depart early on Sundays for work. And all this time, you had believed he had an office in your city.

Oh, God. 

You loved him. 

You loved him so much.

Tears welled up in your eyes at the realization of just how much he loved you. The man had gone so far as to purchase an entire building in your city just to be closer to you. He showered you with affection at every opportunity, devoted his alone time to you with undivided attention and mind-blowing orgasms, and his bank transactions were probably dedicated to you. 

“I don’t deserve your kindness,” you whispered. 

“Neither did I the night when we met.” Nanami’s words always had a comforting effect on you. He gently pulled you onto his lap, and you curled up like a fetus, planting a kiss on his cheekbone. “I’ve loved you for a very long time, Y/N. I love . . . God, I love you so much. I didn't realize I was capable of feeling this much love for another human until I met you. It was all locked up inside me, and you held the key all along, darling." Leaning forward, he smoothly swept his blazer and delved into the pocket, revealing a small yellow box. With trembling hands, you accepted it and opened it to find a petite, golden key inside. “Our front door is an elevator.��� 

Your breath hitched. “What?” 

“Move in with me.” 

“Kento—”

“I know. I know it's quite early to discuss this, and I want to give you the space and time to consider it. As you mentioned, your lease ends next month, and I'll officially be transitioning to remote work with a few business trips every other week. It would mean a lot to me if you decided to join me on those trips." He gently placed the key in your hand, kissing your fist. "I'm scheduled to travel to Malaysia next month."

Overpowered with emotion, you choked out a sob and immediately lunged at him with a hug, causing both of you to stumble backward as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He loved you. He wanted you to move in with him. He wanted to travel with you, starting with Malaysia. Suddenly, the tips he left in your jar took on a deeper significance, backing the idea that you weren't meant to journey alone, why you weren’t meant to go with that swindling bastard. As Nanami's gestures of kindness and service became increasingly evident, your tears welled up, choking him in a tight embrace that eventually had him laughing.

Last November, Nanami Kento had stepped into your small bakery, raindrops clinging to him, unknowingly marking his permanent presence in your life.

[cyberkitty1]

Secrets

- he knows that the work he does is dangerous and could very easily all blow up in his face, but he wants.. no needs to keep you and the other two people he has in his life. He keeps his work away from home he doesn’t want you or his mother to figure out anything. But one small mistake and he releases his secret.

“ Where is he? “ you mumbled to yourself dressed casually ready for your pre-planned date with Miles. You guys where planning on going to small restaurants to eat at them go to him place for a movie. Checking the time on your phone your realize he’s an hour late late. He was supposed to pick you up at 7:00.

So you text him

y/n. where are u??? you where supposed to pick me up over an hour ago

seen

“ Are you kidding me? “. You stare at your phone waiting for a response but it doesn’t happen. you start to get frustrated, upset even. The tears build in your eyes as you tilt your head up to the sealing. This is the fifth time he flaked on you, in a row.

You decide to get undressed, no point in waiting anymore. Just as you where about to lay down and put on your favorite show, Bzzz he texted you.

miles. im sorry mami i got called in for work ill make it up to you

y/n. so work is more important than me now???

miles. dont start now we will talk later

y/n. sure

seen

She was mad, beyond mad angry. The thing that got to her the most was that he told her he would take her out not the other way around. Slowly the anger turned into sadness, why was he always working? Was this so called work even important? was he cheating? No he would never.

You where just so confused. You checked the time and saw is was already 10 o’clock, had you thought that much? You sighed brining the blanket up to your neck turning off the TV to watch tiktoks on your phone. He texted you multiple times but you where not in the mood to respond.

Suddenly you heard the familiar sound of your window being opened. You knew who it was but you didn’t want to look; continuing to face the opposite way.

You heard him close the window behind him and walk a couple steps. “I know youre awake” he said “ I never said I wasnt “ you spit back. “ well you werent even looking at my texts, whys that?” he questioned. You sat up turning twords him “ you know why! “ tears filling your eyes.

“I waited an hour for you to show up but you never did! I waited and waited until i gave up.” Miles sighs holding the bridge of his nose. “ im sorry you know that, I had work-” “ oh! so work is more important than me? Youre willing to ditch me so you can go do your so called “ work” you said doing air quotations.

His face hardens “alto, te dije cuando nos pusimos serios que mi trabajo me llama al azar. Whenever they need me I go” he sighed. You thought about what you were going to say next. “ Ok Miles, but i need you too” you tried to keep your voice even but failed, your eyes welled with tears threatening to fall. He sat next to you on your bed.

“Lo sé mami, lo siento, sé que puse el trabajo antes que tú, pero estoy haciendo esto para mantenerte a salvo, ¿verdad?.” You only stared at him. “ Keep me safe from what?” He closed his eyes taking a deep breath, and explained to you everything from the moment his dad died.

“ Solo lo hago para que mi mamá no tenga que trabajar tanto por dinero. Ella ya hace tanto por mí que necesito ayudar. Do you understand?” You turn and look at his brown eyes just as the moonlight hits them. His eye bags are dark his face is tired.

You know what he does now and for some reason you are not scared instead you feel for him. You had no idea he was going through all that he never told you.

You wrap your arms around his neck bringing him into a hug, in turn be wraps his hands around your waist head resting on your shoulder.

“ You’re not scared of me right mami?” He says quietly “never mi amor.”

This was not proof read that much sorry .

This is my very first writing on here so please be kind. I have more in the works so expect more soon 🤭

[morgana-lefay]

Rammstein - Asche zu Asche live @ Barcelona (11.06.2024) /📹by morgana-lefay (aka, me). Director's commentary:

I love Till's voice here, particularly at the beginning of the video (it's the "rrrrr" on the "Ich komm' wieder" and the way he says "schatten"). It sounds so dark. Love it!

Those two sharing the mic (I think it's what prompted me to start recording, because, at the first, I think I decided I was just gonna rock it all and not film a thing).

Almost didn't get Richard's back voice in the "Ich komm' wieder" part, but you can hear the last one when I zoomed out a bit. Not sure if their mic wasn't working properly at first (Paul does point to his ear) or it was just because I fucked up one of my (new) phone's speakers with all the rain.

You can hear Till screaming one of the many "Vamos" (let's go!) he did during the concert (probably the Spanish word, which we also have in Portuguese, he used the most) when he comes to my side.

Wet Richard™ rocked his ass off (and helped us rock ours) during this song.

Paul kicking his mic stand. Not sure why, but I always love seeing that.

I kinda regret not switching to Flake during his solo/little dance, but I was focused on Till doing his standing thing, which I appreciate very much.

I would have loved to watch the fiery mics, but it did not disappoint! It's one of my favourite songs live too.

In this one I might be caught singing a bit 🙊, but the committed "growler" you can hear is the lovely German behind me. And the screams are not mine. 🤭

P.S - Apologies for all the "grandma on Facetime call" sudden camera movements, but I was really excited about this song, as it's one of my favourites and it was the first time making a video with this phone. 😅

[thru-the-grapevine]

Holiday Rush

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x reader

Summary: Your favorite regular has one hell of a way of saying Merry Christmas (and getting your attention).

Word Count: 2.4k

Tags: coffee shop au, sugar daddy-adjacent au, fluff

You’ve had less eventful Christmas Eve mornings, to be sure. Especially 4:30 AMs on Christmas Eve mornings. For starters, you were asleep like a normal person on all the other ones. For another, you weren’t usually bailed on out of nowhere by your manager due to “a family emergency”, leaving you in charge of the entire store. Nor were you typically bailed on by two other workers, both of whom had a “sudden onset illness”, leaving you with only three people other than you to cover everything the inevitable last-minute holiday-shopping horde would throw at you.

By the time you’ve got things in some semblance of order and preparation for opening, there’s already a car idling in the drive thru, and there’s a slight ache in your left temple.

“Siobhan, you’re on mobile bar,” you order. “Luke, drive bar. You’ll both have to do your own cold bar since Geo and Kennedy flaked. I need Phoenix on customer support and food. I’m gonna attempt solo drive for the first couple hours, and if it gets nuts I’ll pull one of you in to assist. If it gets slow in your area, work on putting away the order. I may have to turn off mobile if it comes to it, but that’ll piss people off, so let’s try to keep up.”

You slip your headset on, watch the digital clock on the order screen turn from 4:59 to 5:00, then click the button. “Good morning, welcome to Starbucks. What can I get started for you this morning?”

“Morning, Chief. Didn’t think you’d be here today. Happy Christmas Eve.”

A little of the tension in your head relaxes, and you smile, tapping away at the order screen. “Ah, Gyu. You’re early. Happy Christmas Eve. Usual?”

“Sounds perfect, thanks.”

“Come on around,” you say, not caring if you sound a little flirty.

Your store has its regulars, and he is by far your favorite. He comes in nearly every day, orders the same thing (grande caramel macchiato, extra shot, for “Gyu”), makes friendly conversation, and leaves a tip three times the price of his drink. Without fail. You’ve never figured out what it is he does for a living, but given the immaculate cars (yes, plural) you’ve seen him drive through in, it probably pays really well.

The whole staff loves him. Some of the bolder ones flirt with him just to fluster him, but they know if you’re on the floor to let you hand him the drink. For reasons beyond your comprehension, he seems to have a soft spot for you. He mistook you for the manager when he first stopped into the cafe, and he’s called you different in-charge nicknames since then—“chief”, “captain”, “commander”. It’s probably giving you an authority complex. You don’t care. The confidence boost his interest in you has given over the past year has gifted you a boldness that he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Must be Gyu already,” Siobhan remarks when she sees you surreptitiously smoothing your hair.

You flip her off as the hood of a familiar black BMW comes into view.

“Kinda early for Christmas Eve,” you say by way of greeting as the car window pulls level with yours.

God, he’s gorgeous, smiling up at you, all bundled up in his expensive-looking wool coat and black turtleneck.

“Could say the same for you,” he says. “Don’t they ever give you a break around here?”

Your smile turns wry, and you sigh lightly. “They’d perish without me, I think.”

“I’ll drink to that,” he says, grimacing lightly in sympathy. “Hopefully not here all day, right? Got plans for the holiday?”

“Just here ‘til noon, then going an hour north to my family’s for a couple days,” you tell him, grabbing the scanner. “Want me to cash you out?”

“Ah. About that.”

You watch him reach into the passenger seat, grabbing something the size of a woman’s clutch, then extends it to you.

You set the scanner down and go to take it, then freeze, blinking.

“Uh. Gyu.”

“Yes?”

“What is that?”

“...Money?”

“I mean. I. Yeah, like. Is it…real?”

“Yes?”

“That’s…way more than your drink.”

“Yes.”

“Like. Are those all twenties?”

“Yes.”

“...I only need a fourth of a single one of those.”

“I know. Take them all.”

You don’t understand. “I—wh…”

He grins. “I feel like being Saint Nick today. I’m paying it forward for the next customers.”

Holy shit. “The next…thousand customers?”

“Hardly. Probably half that. But you don’t know how many big orders there will be, it could be less than that, too.”

“Sir.” Your head is spinning, hand still frozen inches away from the stack of bills that looks honest-to-god like out of the mafia movies. “Sir. That’s…”

You don’t even know how to finish that sentence. That’s not necessary? Your manager would kill you if she found out you refused generosity. That’s ridiculous? It might be, but you don’t want to tell this man that, not when he’s been so wonderful to you.

“I’m not even sure I’m allowed to take this,” you say.

He shrugs. “It’s all twenties, not fifties or hundreds. You can mark them all with a counterfeit pen if it helps. Call your manager if you need, I can talk to her. If you need to call the cops, even, you can. C’mon, I’ve been planning on this for ages. Let me do this.”

The thing is…he’s allowed to do this. You suppose. Technically. You huff a single, breathless laugh, incredulous.

“You…are fucking insane,” you breathe, grinning, not caring how in awe you sound.

His smile turns flustered, and he laughs a little. “If it doesn’t all get used today, put the rest in the tips.”

He’s finally done it. He’s finally rendered you speechless. You can feel your mouth hanging open, not sure what you’re supposed to say. Not sure what you can say.

Gingerly, like it’s alive, you take the stack of bills he’s offering.

“Dude,” you say, laughing again. Absurd. “Dude. Are you…?”

“Completely sure,” he says, eyes warm. “Merry Christmas to your customers. And your staff. And you.”

“Grande caramel macchiato, extra shot,” Luke says behind you, sliding you the cup.

You linger a moment longer, holding eye contact, before ducking back in the window and setting the cash next to the register, swapping it for the drink.

“Holy shit,” you say, laughing as you hand him the drink. “Have a merry fucking Christmas, Gyu.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” he says, grinning, and then he winks at you.

Your insides light up like a Christmas tree. You indulge for a second and stare after his car as he drives off. God. What?

This Christmas Eve is about to be the most fascinating yet.

You have to get Phoenix on headset to take the next drive-thru order so you have time to count out the bills and cash out the order properly. You feel lightheaded after counting the first several hundred, possibly a little ill by the time you total it out. Three thousand.

“Holy fuck,” you mutter under your breath, laughing as you punch in the frankly ludicrous number. That’s half of what the store makes on a slow day. Granted, today will not be a slow day–you can already see more cars filing into the parking lot–but that money covers a chunk of business.

All morning, you have the absolute joy of watching people come up to the window, ready to pay, and telling them “actually, your order’s been covered by someone further up in line”. The looks of surprise, the occasional relief, and the smiles don’t get old or lose their shine. A couple of people get emotional, and you can’t blame them. You feel your own throat tighten when some of the customers insist on paying for the person behind them.

“Someone spotted me, let me spot someone, too,” one lady puts it, paying twice what she would have paid originally to cover the vanload behind her. “Why not? It’s Christmas.”

“Crazy what a little generosity inspires in people,” Phoenix comments as the lady drives away.

You can’t say you disagree, but there’s only one man in mind when you think it.

Luke points out that the more people keep paying it forward, the less that initial amount goes down, and the more of it that gets allotted to tips. You outright refuse to think about it. I can’t take that. There’s no way. I’ll have to give him money back, that’s just…

Even by the time you switch off of drive with Siobhan, about 75% of customers insist on continuing to pay it forward, keeping the dizzying remaining amount from Gyu fairly steady. Siobhan is far less willing to do the mental work of paying it forward and eventually asks whether it can’t just be cashed out to the tip fund.

“He probably wanted to leave most of it as tips, anyway,” she says, raising an eyebrow at you. “He’s got a track record, plus he likes you.”

You feel your face grow hot. “He does not.”

Siobhan rolls her eyes. “Whatever, live in denial. Can I put this in the tip fund?”

“...Fine.”

For the last hour of your shift, you concentrate on calculating tips. Even divided amongst all the store employees and adjusted for the amount of hours each person worked, everyone ends up with over a hundred in tips total. You end up with nearly twice that, after the hours you’ve done. Crazy. Absolutely unreal. You’re already thinking of the last couple gifts you were hoping you could afford to spring for for family and friends. Easily done now, with this tip money.

“Tips are in the safe,” you tell your coworkers as you zip up your coat and make for the door. “Everyone say Merry fucking Christmas, Gyu.”

You grin as you hear a chorus of “Merry fucking Christmas, Gyu!” behind you as you step out into the cold.

You’re halfway across the parking lot to your car when you notice a black BMW. You wander to a stop, hesitant, as the car pulls even with you in the nearest parking spot and the door opens.

“Did you need more coffee?” You ask, biting your lip as he steps out.

Gyu closes his car door and shakes his head, grinning. “Already got my fix today, I’m good.”

“Shame,” you say, fighting a smile, “because I happen to know that if you went through the drive-thru right now, your order would already be covered.”

He leans back against his car and raises his eyebrows. “It lasted this long? You’d think there’d be more business than that today.”

“Everyone else kept insisting on paying it forward, too,” you say, shaking your head in awe. “What did you start?”

“Well, you certainly deserve it,” he says, and the way his smile softens makes your stomach flutter. “Hopefully it’ll end up as tips, if people keep paying it forward?”

“It’s too much,” you tell him, trying to be as firm as possible. “Far too much. I really can’t accept that.”

“It’s a gift,” he insists. “For how long you’ve been subjected to my patronage.”

“Everyone loves you in the store, they always have,” you argue.

He looks at you intently. “Everyone?”

You feel your face grow hot again. “...Yes. Everyone.”

You push through the way you want to be flustered as he grins. “But that’s what I’m saying. You’re hardly a difficult customer. It was too much.”

“You know,” he says, “it’s possible I just want to spoil you.”

You open your mouth, then snap it shut, then open it again. Holy shit, he’s made you speechless again. Twice in the same day.

“You don’t even know me,” you argue weakly.

He gives you a Look. “I’ve talked to you nearly every day for around a year. I know lots of things about you. Like your cats. Your family, mainly your sister. The saga of your car. Things you like to read and watch. Some of the jokes you find funny. And you know a lot of the same things about me.”

“I don’t even know if Gyu is your real name!” You burst out.

He frowns. “It is, mostly. It’s short for Mingyu. Kim Mingyu. You’ve seen it on the receipts.”

You haven’t, but you believe him. You try out the name. “Mingyu.”

A corner of his mouth curls into a smile. He puts his hands in his coat pockets. “Tell me that hasn’t been your only hangup this whole time.”

“I-I mean…” you stammer. “N-no? I mean, it’s been one thing, but like…you’re, like. Um. You seem very…successful, and I’m…”

He frowns. “You’re successful, too. I—wait. Is this…is it money?”

“I guess I’m just…embarrassed,” you say, feeling your face burn in shame. “Maybe my pride’s too big, I dunno.”

“Hey, I don’t want you to think this is some weird, fetish-y charity case thing I have, or that I think you can be, like, bought or something,” he says, looking serious. “If you really can’t accept the money, I won’t stop you from giving it back.”

He sighs, teeth worrying his lower lip. “I just…I like you. I always have. You seem to be the only person who doesn’t realize it, or maybe I’m the idiot who can’t take a hint, but—”

“Mingyu—”

“But I really do,” he continues doggedly. “I think you work hard, but you’re so kind. You do good work so that you can be kind, so you can give people more than just something to eat or drink, and that’s just…it’s really—”

“I could kiss you right now for that,” you say, then slap a hand over your mouth. Dude??

Mingyu blinks, then laughs. “At least let me take you to dinner first.”

You wish you could sink into the pavement, even as your heart gives a silly little leap. He wants to take me to dinner. “I…I’m…”

“I know it’s Christmas Eve and you’ve got places to be,” he says, and you wonder if he looks a little nervous. “But I really would like to see you. Outside of work. Would you let me take you out sometime?”

You stand there for a moment in stupefied silence. Holy shit, this has to be a dream. A man like Kim Mingyu doesn’t just…give your workplace thousands of dollars to tip you and then ask you to dinner. What in the name of Wattpad...

“I…you’re fucking insane,” you laugh, breathless.

He looks like he doesn’t know how to take this, and before you can talk yourself out of it you find yourself saying, “I’m, uh, I’m free on New Years?”

A slow grin spreads over his face. “Yeah? Funny enough, so am I.”

Definitely the strangest Christmas Eve you’ve ever had. But it may also be your new favorite.

[mintaka14]

Here's a bit of Lukanette fun. This is a Dammit!Ver fic and I blame her for throwing the prompt at me. I also blame the LBSC crowd for their enabling and support, and for the icecream flavour suggestions, and for playing along with suggestions of which fabrics Luka should never wear. Enjoy!

Dating Sucks

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

“Dating sucks, Luka,” Marinette sighed, and curled up around one of his pillows. The moment she’d said it, she could have bitten out her tongue.

Up on deck, Rose and Ivan were still bickering about a drum solo (“You’re going to have to face the spotlight sometime, Ivan, you’re too awesome to keep hiding at the back, and Biker Unicorns from Mars needs a drum solo going into the bridge!”) while Juleka interjected her laconic opinions from time to time. About the point when Luka bowed out of the argument, though, Marinette had followed him down into his cabin, and dropped into her usual place on his bed.

More often than not, when she turned up at the Liberty, she ended up on Luka’s bed, sketching, or talking with Luka, or just listening to him playing something on his guitar that sounded like all the complicated thoughts in her head.

Luka was the one she could talk to about anything and everything. Except her love life.

There was too much history between them to make her feel anything but awkward telling him about the guys she dated, no matter how close she and Luka had become since their one attempt to be something more had crashed and burned.

And she was pretty sure that telling a guy she used to date that dating sucked was bad.

He didn’t seem upset by it, though. He was sitting on the floor, one leg stretched out in front of him and the other bent to support his guitar as he idly tinkered with a tune he’d been working on, but at her words, he glanced up.

“I take it the last one didn’t go well,” he said mildly, and she buried her face in his pillow to muffle her groan.

“Or the one before that,” she muttered, “or before that, or… dating sucks. I never know what to say, and you know how stressed out I get when I start overthinking stuff.”

“It wasn’t that bad when we were dating, was it?” Luka asked, and Marinette pulled the pillow down to look at him.

“Don’t you remember all the times I flaked out on you, or disappeared, or… did we ever get to even finish a date together? I’m amazed you even still talk to me.”

“Yeah, but that was because…” Luka trailed off and didn’t finish the sentence, but his hands had stilled on the guitar strings, and he was frowning a little with his eyes still on her. “At least you don’t have akumas breaking things up now.”

“I almost wish I did,” Marinette muttered. “Dating sucks.”

“It doesn’t have to.” There was a long silence, and Luka looked as if he was trying to make up his mind about something, then he lifted the guitar from his lap and put it aside. He got to his feet and held out his hand to Marinette. “Come on, Melody. You can tell me all about it while we go get icecream.”

The argument about the drum solo seemed to have been resolved in their absence. Ivan was idly twirling his drumsticks, and Rose was slumped against Juleka on one of the deck chairs, but they all looked up as Luka and Marinette emerged onto the deck.

“Where are you going?” Juleka asked when they headed for the gangplank. “We were going to start rehearsing again in a minute.”

“You’ll have to cope without me. We’re going to go get icecream,” Luka told her, and Rose sat up abruptly. Her wide blue eyes flickered between Luka and Marinette, and she gave an excited little squeak.

“Ooh! Are you – ow! What was that for?” She turned to pout at Juleka, whose foot retreated under her skirts again.

“Like we actually need you,” Juleka muttered in her brother’s direction. “Have fun, loser.”

“I always do, monster child,” Luka shot back amiably, and tugged Marinette down the gangplank before anyone could say anything else.

As they walked slowly along the banks of the Seine, he coaxed the latest disaster out of her, and the history of her failed dates before that. When she’d spilled out all the inner workings of her terrible love life, Marinette let out a faint sigh, and Luka glanced down at her.

There were times when she wished that she hadn’t met him until after that final battle, when she had the chance of a life back and they might have had a chance to make it work between them, instead of blowing her chances with him when Ladybug had to come first. Except she wasn’t sure she would have made it through those years without Luka’s friendship. She was even less sure that Ladybug would have survived to defeat Monarch, and the villains that followed him, without Viperion’s steady presence and Luka’s silent support.

“That’s a lot of bad dates,” he said.

“I’m giving up on the whole concept. It just never works.” Marinette sighed again. “Half of them, I didn’t even want to go on in the first place.”

“Then why do you say yes?” Luka asked, but he didn’t sound judgemental, just curious, and when Marinette glanced up at him he was watching her with sympathetic eyes.

She raised an eyebrow. “Have you met Alya? I have a best friend who’s decided it’s her mission in life to set me up with a boyfriend so I can live happily ever after and go on double dates with her and Nino, and it’s easier to just go along with it. And who know? Maybe she’s right, and I’m just not trying hard enough.”

“Or maybe she should be letting you find your own dates,” he said, his tone unreadable. It looked like he was going to say something else, but then his gaze shifted past her, his mouth quirking up, and she realised they’d reached the Sweetheart Icecream Cart.

“Want to risk Andre’s choice?” he asked her in an undervoice, and grinned at her as she gave the cart a dubious glance.

“Is that wise? The last few times he’s chosen for me, it… hasn’t gone well.”

“I’m curious to see just how bad it can be now.”

Marinette laughed at that. “When we get a scoop of sardines and pizza, it’s on your head, remember that,” she warned him, still giggling, as he took her hand and drew her forward into the crowd around the cart.

Marinette was more focused on the feel of her hand in Luka’s when he didn’t let her go. She was almost disappointed when they reached the front, and Luka released her hand to dig through his pockets for some cash. Andre gave them a big, beaming smile.

She tried not to react to Andre’s flowery predictions of true love and a sweet heart, but the tiny, sidelong grin Luka shot her as Andre scooped out the blueberry and violet icecream suggested that he’d heard her soft snort.

“So, is dating something you’re actually opposed to,” Luka said curiously, as he took the Sweetheart Sundae that Andre handed him and led Marinette back to the low stone wall alongside the path.

“Not in theory,” she admitted. She scooped out a mouthful of icecream, and waited until she’d swallowed it before she added, “It just never seems to go well for me. Like, the whole sweetheart icecream thing? I remember when I used to think that was the most romantic thing you could do on a date.”

“What happened to change your mind?”

“I ended up with a few too many weird flavour choices,” Marinette told him. “The last time I came here on a date, I was here with a boy from Alya’s journalism class that she tried to set me up with, and Andre gave me tangerine for his hair, and peanut butter icecream for his nutty sense of humour.” Marinette rolled her eyes, and Luka smothered a snort of laughter.

“And was he funny?”

“He didn’t crack a smile the whole time, although that may have had more to do with being compared to a tangerine, or maybe because tangerine and peanut butter just tastes weird together. But even that was better than the time Andre gave me two scoops of coffee icecream, to go with my dark and mysterious soul.”

Luka nearly choked on the spoonful he’d just put in his mouth.

“My date that time kept giving me weird looks, until I panicked and told him I had to go home because I’d left the iron on. I’m pretty sure at this point that the whole sweetheart combination thing is more about whatever flavour Andre’s trying to shift that day,” Marinette said, and waited until Luka had recovered himself before she offered him the sundae again. “Don’t tell me you buy into the whole Sweetheart Icecream thing.”

Luka gave a wry smile. “I don’t really think anyone should be taking relationship advice from frozen milk.”

“And yet, you brought me to Andre’s cart,” Marinette pointed out. Although this wasn’t a date, so it probably wasn’t going to draw down the bad luck her love life seemed to attract.

“Well, it is delicious frozen milk,” he said with a grin. He dug out a piece of candied violet and licked it off his spoon. “And he was onto something with the whole blueberry for your bright blue eyes, and violet for the sweetness in your heart line.”

“Luka!” Marinette could feel herself blushing as she giggled at the compliment. She focused on the icecream as her cheeks flamed hotter under his gaze, and then flicked a glance up at him through her lashes.

“He could have been talking about you, you know,” she suggested, and felt a little thrill as Luka ducked his head, his face hidden by the blue fall of his hair, but not before she caught a hint of colour creeping up his neck too. She buried her mischievous little smile in another spoonful of icecream, stealing glances at him as she ate.

She had to admit that her experiences with Andre’s Sweetheart Icecream weren’t all bad, although come to think of it, that first icecream she’d shared with Luka hadn’t really been a date either. It had been just before they’d gone on an official date, and it had been with all their friends. But it had been nice, she thought wistfully.

It was getting dark by the time they finished the icecream and started to slowly wander in the direction of home. The route that they took was not the most direct one back to Marinette’s place, but neither of them suggested a shorter path when they ended up taking the long way alongside the river, and circling the park instead of cutting through it. When they finally reached her door, she hesitated on the doorstep.

The light from the bakery window cast a glow over the dark street, turning Luka’s blue hair a deeper colour, and catching in the dark depths of his eyes as he watched her. She put her hand on the door, but didn’t open it.

“Thank you for the icecream, Luka” she said, feeling oddly reluctant for the night to end, “and for letting me vent about my dating disasters.”

Luka ducked his head, an odd little smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He glanced up at her, and for a moment she thought he was going to say something, but then he simply said, “Sleep well, Melody.”

He turned to go, and Marinette’s hand stayed on the door handle as she watched him walk away. Before he reached the corner, he pivoted.

“Marinette,” he called back to her. “Want to come shopping for new guitar strings tomorrow? That fabric shop next door has a sale on, and maybe we could go there afterwards.”

Marinette found herself beaming at him.

“You had me at fabric shop,” she called back, and he lit up with a grin, his eyes still on her as he started walking backwards. “What time?”

“Call me when you’re awake,” he suggested, and when she nodded, he spun around and kept walking. Marinette watched until he’d disappeared around the corner, and then she went upstairs to bed, feeling inexplicably lighter in spite of her disastrous love life.

She was up earlier than usual the next morning, and her mother’s startled expression when Marinette whirled into the shop changed to a knowing smile when she caught a glimpse through the window of Luka waiting outside. He had his head down, listening to his earbuds, but he looked up hopefully every time the shop door opened and the bell chimed.

“Enjoy your date,” Sabine said fondly, as Marinette dropped a quick kiss on her mother’s cheek. Marinette didn’t bother to correct her. Instead, she snatched up a couple of croissants as a substitute for breakfast, and hurried out the door before her mother could misinterpret the way her cheeks glowed pink.

Luka looked up again as the bell jangled, and smiled when he saw her. She handed one of the croissants to Luka.

“You’re going to need fortification if you’re coming to Marché St Pierre with me,” she warned a little anxiously, but Luka laughed.

“I’ll take my chances.”

“And you have to tell me if I’m taking too long,” she persisted. “Alya hates it when I sort of tend to lose track of time in there…”

“Marinette,” Luka interrupted gently, “it’s okay. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t want to go.”

Finding the new strings that Luka needed didn’t take long at all, even when Marinette tried to prod Luka into trying out the beautiful guitar that he was eyeing off. At her coaxing, he played a few bars of something that drew the rapt attention of everyone in the shop, but then he set the guitar aside and drew her towards the fabric shop next door, and Marinette was distracted from all thoughts of guitars and music.

She drifted between the aisles, running her fingertips over the rolls of satin and lace, and it was easy to lose track of the time without Alya’s impatient huffs behind her, or pointed comments about how much more fabric do you actually need, Marinette?

If Luka was bored, there wasn’t any hint of it in the questions he asked from time to time, or the way he tilted his head to listen as she wandered off into impassioned and rambling lectures about the history of style and the fashion industry. He did eventually suggest that maybe it might be time to get some lunch, and Marinette looked up from the two shades of blue linen she was agonising over, startled to realise that it was well into the afternoon and she was starving.

“I’m so sorry I lost track of the time,” she said guiltily when they found a café. A waitress slid burgers and fried potato in front of them, and Marinette glanced down at the huge bag of fabric beside her chair. “We’ve spent this whole time just looking at stuff for me.”

“Hey, I got stuff too.” Luka reached into his pocket and held up the packet of strings as evidence. “I just like spending time with you, Melody. Is that so hard to believe?”

There was a long silence, and Marinette focused on the food in front of her rather than responding. When she glanced up, Luka was still watching her, a faint frown between his eyes.

“What on earth is wrong with all these guys Alya’s been setting you up with?” he said absently, almost as if he didn’t realise he was speaking out loud. Marinette gave an awkward shrug.

“There’s nothing wrong with them. It’s me. I suck at dating, and it’s never any fun for anyone involved.”

“Hey, I’m having fun,” Luka protested, his frown lightening as his lips quirked up in a smile. “And going to Marché St Pierre with you was educational. I know all about why I shouldn’t ever wear lamé. I know what lamé is now,” he grinned.

He’d held up the slippery, yellow-green fabric and asked if it would suit him, just to see her react, and by the time she’d finished the scathing lecture about the fabric composition, lack of breathability, the colour, and how awful lamé was to work with, he’d been trying so hard not to laugh, and she couldn’t help giggling at him in response.

“That was not quality lamé,” she sniffed. “And I’m not going to start another rant about that again. I’ve already bored you enough for one day.”

His grin grew wider. “I like watching you getting excited about things.”

“You can’t seriously tell me you wanted to spend the whole day trying to help me choose between the cotton voile and lawn,” she accused, pointing a fry at him before she popped it in her mouth. “You don’t even know what the difference is.”

“I’ve been paying attention,” he protested, and stole another piece of fried potato from her plate. “And you’re having fun now, aren’t you?” he asked, returning to their original topic, and he nudged her foot under the table. “Unless that’s a grin of terror.”

She giggled, and then sighed. “Yeah, but that’s different. Spending time with you doesn’t make me so anxious that I want to throw up.”

“It’s probably not a good idea to date someone who makes you want to throw up,” he agreed. “You must have had some good dates, though. They can’t have all been universally awful. What was the best date you ever went on?”

Marinette fell silent and chewed on her lip for a moment, her gaze focused on the salt cellar as she lined it up carefully with the edge of her plate. Without looking up, she admitted, “Crocodile Heart.”

“Seriously?” Luka said in disbelief.

She didn’t blame him. She’d ditched him to deal with an akuma attack, just when he’d been about to kiss her, and left him sitting there on his own in the movie theatre. She’d been an awful girlfriend, and the movie probably brought up bad memories for him, but… she’d been having the best time with him, before the akuma interrupted everything and screwed up her life.

He was lost in thought as he walked her home, but the slow, sweet smile he gave her when he said goodbye left her feeling warm, and even running late for school the next morning couldn’t put a dent in her mood.

“You’re in a good mood this morning. Did you have a date yesterday?” Alya whispered at her as Marinette slid hastily into the seat beside her, and Marinette screwed up her nose at her friend.

“No more dates. Dating sucks, and I’m swearing off the whole idea. I’m probably going to die alone,” she sighed, but she felt too cheerful to be really dismayed at the thought.

Somewhere behind her, Marinette heard a muffled squeak. When she glanced behind her, she saw Juleka with her hand over Rose’s mouth, and Rose turning a little pink. Juleka waved Marinette away before she could ask what was going on, and Marinette turned back to face the front, frowning. Alya poked her in the ribs, pulling her attention back from whatever Rose and Juleka were up to.

“But you went out yesterday,” Alya prodded, and Marinette couldn’t help the smile that crept over her face again.

“I just had a good day yesterday. There was a sale on at Marché St Pierre, and I got some beautiful voile that’s going to make a gorgeous blouse, or maybe a summer dress if I can come up with the right idea for it, and -”

“That’s what you’re grinning about?” Alya teased, rolling her eyes. “A fabric sale? Girl, you’re hopeless.”

“Like you didn’t spend weeks going on about how good the new graphics software for the Ladyblog was,” Marinette whispered back. “I think Nino was starting to get jealous.”

“Yeah, but that was –“ Alya broke off as their teacher cleared her throat and gave them a pointed look.

The moment that the bell rang for the end of the day, though, Alya took up the argument again.

“So, there’s this guy that Nino knows from –“

“Alya,” Marinette groaned as she shouldered her school bag, and her best friend followed her out of the classroom and down into the quadrangle.

“You can’t just give up on love like this,” Alya insisted. “And he’s really cute. You’d be great together, and it’s just one –“

“No more dates,” Marinette said emphatically, and pushed through the main doors. At the bottom of the steps, she could see a familiar head of blue hair, and she felt an odd little kick in her pulse.

“Fine, no dates,” Alya was grumbling somewhere behind her. “But if you change your mind, call me. Later, girl.”

Luka was leaning against the streetlight just below the school steps. He had earphones in, one foot propped against the light post and tapping along with whatever he was listening to, but he looked up as students started streaming past him, and Marinette paused at the top of the steps, just watching him for a minute. He was there for his sister, she knew, but his mouth quirked up in a smile when he caught sight of her, and she gave him a little wave in response.

Juleka stomped past her down the steps, muttering something that Marinette couldn’t hear over the chatter around her. As Juleka reached him, Luka reached out to pull his sister into a hug, but his eyes shifted back to find Marinette again.

“You go on ahead,” she heard him say, as Juleka ducked away and pulled a face. “I just need to ask Marinette something.”

She came down the steps as headed in her direction.

“Marinette, are you free Saturday night?” he asked, and Marinette looked up in surprise. His voice was as calm as ever, and he was smiling at her, but there was a hint of tension in him that she wasn’t used to seeing while he waited for her response.

She’d given up on Saturday night dates, so of course she was free. Hanging out with Luka was much more fun than any date, anyway.

“I don’t have anything on. What did you have in mind?”

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to show you.”

“What is it?” she asked, but Luka just gave her an enigmatic smile, and shook his head.

“You’ll see.”

The problem with not knowing where they were going, or what Luka wanted to show her, was that it made choosing an appropriate outfit very difficult. Were they going to be inside or outdoors? Would she need sensible shoes? What if she wore the wrong thing? And she knew that Luka would always say that whatever she was comfortable with was fine, but she was still second guessing her choice, and whether she was too dressed up, when her phone chimed on Saturday with Luka’s message that he was downstairs.

It was too late to change, and she snatched up her handbag and flew down to open the door for him, a little breathless.

Luka straightened, his eyes widening a little as he took her in.

“Wow,” he said softly.

Marinette smoothed a nervous hand down the floaty layers of her dress. It was something she’d always planned to wear on a date one day, but that wasn’t going to be happening any time soon. She’d decided that it was a shame to let it go to waste. And it felt nice to have someone look at her like that.

It felt good to have Luka looking at her like that.

She glanced up at him. “Do you like it?”

Luka swallowed, and said a little roughly, “I’m feeling a little underdressed now. You look stunning, Melody.”

“It’s not too much for… wherever we’re going?”

“It’s perfect,” he reassured her. He refused to tell her, though, what they were doing. He just smiled at her as she teased him over dinner about where he was planning to take her.

“And we had to get dinner first?” she asked, one eyebrow arching.

“I was hungry, and there won’t be anything to see for a while yet. Not until it’s properly dark.”

“A clue!” she said excitedly, and she leaned forward, her eyes narrowing at him. “So it’s something after dark… you’re a vampire, aren’t you?”

Luka laughed. “No, that would be Juleka.”

“So it’s not a secret vampire lair?” She pouted, and Luka snorted, but his eyes were fond on her.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” he grinned, and glanced out the window at the slowly darkening sky. “We’ve got time before we need to go – did you want dessert?”

Marinette was so busy trading tastes of his brȗlée with her Baba au Rhum, and trying to coax more clues out of Luka, that she hadn’t even realised how late it was getting until Luka put down his spoon.

“I think it’s dark enough now. Let me know when you’re ready,” he said, and Marinette glanced up, startled. The only light outside the little restaurant was the warm glow of the street lights and the glittering neon of shop signs. When Marinette put aside her own empty dish, Luka stood and offered her his hand.

He kept her hand in his as he led her out of the restaurant and they slowly strolled along the street. There was a comfortable silence between them, and Marinette was very conscious of the feel of his hand around hers. She wished it could always be like this.

Marinette thought Luka was leading her towards the Trocadéro, so when he turned into a little side street, she glanced up in surprise. He turned his head to give her a soft smile.

“Not far now,” he offered. “Are you okay to walk a bit further?”

“Of course. I just wish I knew where you were taking me.”

His smile grew a bit impish. “It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

He stopped in front of a high, ornate, iron fence. In the dim light filtering down from the windows across the narrow alleyway, and the streetlight back on the corner, Marinette could make out bicycle wheels woven into the spokes of the fence, and a motley collection of objects embedded in the gate that Luka was holding open for her.

“What is this?” she asked.

All Luka said was, “Come in and find out.”

She followed him through the gate and into the space beyond.

Marinette was barely aware of the quiet snick of the gate shutting behind her as the soft darkness enveloped them. Luka’s hand in hers led her forward and around a bend in the path under her feet, and then her vision adjusted, leaving her open-mouthed and staring as the darkness bloomed.

There were trees overhead, the branches dancing with fairylights in the night breeze, and coloured lights glimmered among the shrubs that clustered around the path. She could make out the glowing shapes of fantastical lantern creatures lurking among the flowers, and the darker shadows of even more fantastical sculptures that had been formed out of old pots and pipes and rubbish.

The tiny lights twined their way through a tunnel of bicycle parts and junk that was somehow transmuted by the soft, flickering points of light into something that felt like a fairy bazaar, and when she looked down, the golden shimmer skittered over a beautiful mosaic of tiles and pieces of glass and pottery shards that spiralled and wove through this enchanted artists’ garden.

And as her eyes were drawn back up again, everywhere there were dragonflies and butterflies made of golden lights and glass and every kind of metal, settled in the trees and the shrubs and drawing lines of light in the dark night air as the breeze moved them.

“Oh, Luka,” she breathed.

His fingers squeezed her hand gently, but he said nothing, simply letting her draw him with her as she slowly drifted through the garden, taking it all in.

“How on earth did you find this place?” she asked eventually, her voice hushed and almost afraid to break the tranquil enchantment around them.

“I stumbled across it one night when I was on my way home from a gig,” he said just as quietly. “I took a short cut through the alley, and somehow ended up in here. I thought you might like it.”

“Oh, Luka,” she repeated, and let go of his hand to throw her arms around him.

There was a moment’s hesitation, and then his arms closed around her. They stayed like that for a long, perfect moment, and Marinette wished it could go on forever. When he slowly released her, though, Marinette let him go, but her eyes were shining in the shimmer of the fairylights and coloured lanterns as she looked up at him.

“Thank you.”

She turned in a dawdling circle, taking in the twinkling lights among the trees and the shadows, and the way it caught on the sculptures and mosaics. The warm night air felt rich with the scent of jasmine, and charged with the electricity of art and creation, and Marinette drew in a slow, deep breath until she felt full with it.

 “This is… magic,” she said, and her voice was hushed.

Luka’s smile was strangely wistful as he took her hand again. “You deserve a bit of magic,” he said softly. “You make so much of it for everyone else.”

Marinette felt like she was almost floating by the time they reached the bakery again, and as she said goodnight to Luka, she lifted on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and then fled inside.

It was hard to hide her euphoric mood, and even Alya’s pointed comments couldn’t wipe the smile off her face.

“… Seriously, Mari, what’s gotten into you lately?” Alya asked as they followed the rest of the girls back to the Liberty for Sunday study and gossip. “Did something happen that you’re not telling me?”

Marinette managed to deflect the question as they reached the boat, reluctant to tell Alya all about the artists’ garden. She didn’t think that Alya would understand just how special that garden was, and trying to explain it to her would only diminish the moment somehow.

It hadn’t just been the garden, a sly little voice suggested.

She didn’t really notice the odd looks the girls were giving her, and she tuned out of what Alya was saying. She could hear the sounds of Luka moving around in the kitchen, out of sight, and humming a soft tune, and she was trying to work out what it was.

“… Marinette?”

“Hmm?”

“Marinette!” Rose said more insistently, and Marinette turned her head to find Rose with her chin propped on her hands and her bright blue eyes fixed on Marinette. “So, how was your date last Saturday?” she asked meaningfully.

Alya broke off what she’d been saying to turn a frown on Marinette. “I thought you’d sworn off dating.”

“Oh, it wasn’t a date,” she said, ignoring Rose’s huff of disbelief. “Luka just wanted to show me this place he’d found, and… and we got dinner…” Like they’d got lunch together after they’d been shopping, and icecream before that, after the walk along the river, and really, the gardens last night would have been a perfect date, with the fairylights and magic in the air, if they were… “Sonofa-!“

Rose was giving her a smug grin, and Marinette started swearing, creatively and fluently, ignoring the shocked looks from the rest of the girls, and the way Juleka’s mouth quirked up behind her curtain of hair.

Just because Marinette didn’t usually swear didn’t mean she didn’t know how to, and sometimes a bit of profanity was in order.

“That conniving…”

“Luka’s not conniving,” Mylene objected.

“Oh, he totally is,” Juleka muttered back.

“You went on a date with Luka??” Alya practically shrieked.

“…sneaky, tricky, scheming, devious… Couffaine,” Marinette spluttered.

“Hey!” Juleka protested, but she was grinning, and added to Rose, “I told you she’d figure it out in the end.”

Marinette shoved herself to her feet and stalked out of the room, following the sound of opening cupboards and soft humming. She stopped in the doorway of the kitchen with her hands planted on her hips, watching Luka stretch to pull the jar of coffee out of the overhead cupboard and she was not paying attention to the way his shirt rode up to expose bare skin above the waistband of his jeans, or the way his muscles flexed and shifted with the movement.

He turned with the jar in his hands, and broke of his humming when he saw her there, giving her that smile of his that always sent a little fizz of something through her, but she trying to not pay attention to that either.

“Marinette,” he said, his voice making her name something soft and fond.

And she wasn’t falling for that, either. “Why didn’t you tell me they were dates?” she demanded.

“I didn’t think it was a big secret. Is it really that much of a surprise that I might want to date you?” Luka asked, and if she hadn’t been a little distracted, she might have heard the note of strain creep in under the calm amusement in his voice. He put down the jar of coffee, and reached for a mug.

“Of course it didn’t occur to me that you might want to date me again! I was the worst girlfriend ever. I kept running out on you, and I lied to you –“

“I screwed it up too,” he said, interrupting her spiralling flow of words.

She shook her head vehemently at that, because Luka had been amazing. Patient and sweet, and everything she’d wanted…

“I did,” he insisted. “I didn’t realise… I should have known that if you weren’t telling me the truth, it was because you couldn’t.”

Marinette had had her suspicions for a while that Luka knew more than he let on about who she was. He was skirting very close to admitting it.

“I wanted to tell you,” she said, deflating a little. “I wanted to tell you so much, and keeping secrets always goes badly for me. But the thing is, when I tell anyone else, it goes really, really badly for all of… for everyone.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know that now, and I should have known it then.”

He turned the mug over in his hands before he set it carefully on the counter, and looked up to meet her eyes again. “I’ve never made any secret of how I feel about you, Marinette, and if the only reason that we’re not still together is because you had to… ditch a few dates with me and couldn’t tell me why, then I’m hoping you might want to give it – give us another try. You deserve all the romance and magic in the world, and if I can give you a bit of that, if you want me to give you a little bit of that, then I don’t care what we call it.”

As if she’d ever wanted anything else.

“But if I’d known they were dates, I could have been getting kisses,” Marinette said mournfully, and felt a spark of satisfaction as Luka jerked upright and nearly knocked his mug off the bench. “That’s something that happens on dates, isn’t it?”

Luka absently set the mug upright again.

“There’s one way to find out,” he said slowly, his deep blue eyes on her. “Would you like to go out with me tonight? On a very definitely a date?”

Marinette gave him a limpid look and batted her eyelashes at him. “I thought you’d never ask.”

And there were definitely kisses involved.

[derwahnsinn]

31 Days Rammstein Challenge - Day 30: Favourite Ship

When someone asks me about what my favourite Rammstein ship is, my standard answer is friendship. For me, that's one of the things that make Rammstein so special. They have stuck together for not just the duration of the band, but from long before that.

The majority of the band members have played in Rammstein for more than half of their lives. Some of them have played together in bands for close to 40 years. And still, they seem to have enjoy each other's company and have fun together on stage.

To illustrate this, I have picked the five photos Richard Z. Kruspe posted on his Instagram last June, with the following captions (inspired by Placebo's song Pure Morning):

Oliver: A friend in need Schneider: A friend indeed Paul: A friend so sweet Flake: A friend down the street Till: A friend who bleeds

As Flake Lorenz told Strassenfeger: «I see us as friends who have known each other for a very long time. Who have experienced a lot together. And who will definitely get along very well for quite a while.»

--

Day 1: Favourite Song Day 2: Favourite Era Day 3: Favourite Single Day 4: Favourite Album Day 5: Favourite Music Video Day 6: Favourite Member Day 7: Favourite Lyrics Day 8: Favourite B-side or Unreleased Track Day 9: Favourite Remix Day 10: Favourite Live Photo Day 11: Favourite Live Video Day 12: Favourite Making of Day 13: Favourite Picture Official or Unofficial Day 14: Favourite Vocals Day 15: Favourite Bass, Guitar, Drums, or Keyboard Work Day 16: Favourite Outfit Day 17: Favourite Live Moment Day 18: Favourite Pyro Effect Day 19: Favourite Herzeleid Song Day 20: Favourite Sehnsucht Song Day 21: Favourite Mutter Song Day 22: Favourite Reise, Reise Song Day 23: Favourite Rosenrot Song Day 24: Favourite LIFAD Song Day 25: Favourite Untitled Song Day 26: Favourite Zeit Song Day 27: Favourite Pre-Rammstein Photo Day 28: Favourite Solo Project Day 29: Favourite Merch Stuff

[herrlindemann]

Sonic Seducer - 2008, interview with Flake

thanks to ramjohn for the scans.

While his colleagues from Rammstein are working at full speed in the studio on the still untitled successor to their 2005 album 'Rosenrot', we invited the eccentric keyboardist to our psycho couch for an entertaining one-on-one chat. Flake Lorenz on success, idols and the advantages of not owning a wallet!

What is your profession?

I'm forced to call myself a musician, anything else would be a lie! The last thing that would probably apply to me would be the term entertainer. You can't really call me an artist either...

Why shouldn't you be considered an artist?

Because such a view presupposes that I would make art! Music does not necessarily have to be art at the same time. As is well known, there is also dance music that is artistically less valuable.

Do you still have stage fright before performances today?

I still have stage fright, but mostly in situations where I'm not 100% sure about how the performance will go — like during my solo performance at the Berlin Volksbühne some time ago, for example. I prefer to follow a precise schedule with times and other details. I feel very safe knowing the band is standing here, I'm standing there and the crowd is standing over there etc.

Are you a generally insecure person?

Yes. I chronically doubt myself and all other people and things.

Would you describe yourself as a perfectionist?

Not at all! Quite the opposite: I'm a real Schludrian - fortunately!

What was your career aspiration as a child?

I really wanted to be a piano player. In the early days I had lessons, but I didn't have my own piano. So in my free time I practiced at the kitchen table on sheets of paper that I drew the keys on. At some point my parents saw that I was serious about playing the piano and bought me my own piano.

Were you a good student then?

At first, but later I became very bad. From the 7th grade I basically saw myself as a punk and school didn't interest me that much anymore.

Did you have to be bad at school to be a punk?

No, not necessarily. I became a bad student all by myself... I actually would have liked to have done better. In the early days of Feeling B I was still in 10th grade - when I came home from our performances at the weekend, I couldn't be completely rested and fit again at school on Monday morning!

What do you like?

Shipwrecks.

What do you hate?

Very much! I probably hate a lot more than I like. I couldn't come up with a top 10 hate objects without neglecting the rest of the stuff.

Where is the most beautiful place in the world for you?

At my home in the country, just outside of Berlin.

Who would you want to swap roles with for a day?

Actually with nobody. I've got enough trouble with myself that I don't necessarily have to take on another role!

What do you have in your pocket at the moment?

A tissue.

That's all?

And money. I always keep my money in my ass pocket — I've never used a wallet in my life!

Out of pure post punk conviction?

No. It's just that I wouldn't think of keeping my money in a wallet in real life. So far it has always looked like this: I kept my credit cards loose in my pocket on the front left and small change on the right. In the ass pockets, notes and banknotes for free use. That's how I got through life for a long time. A friend was very concerned that this would scratch my credit cards and ultimately render them unusable. So he gave me a small bag with a magnet closure. However, this magnetic clasp erased the magnetic strips on all credit cards, garage door openers and alarm system code cards the first time I opened it, so I had to apply for everything again! A clear sign of non-improvement! I dare not imagine what could happen if I used a wallet!

How important is success to you?

There's small successes and big successes — it doesn't bother me that a lot of people think I'm great. With the fame I get from working with Rammstein, the positives and negatives are roughly balanced. It is important to develop your own position on these things. If the TV program annoys me, I turn it off — the same with Rammstein: If I don't want to have anything to do with the band, I put my hat on, go to the back room and have my peace.

What will your life look like in old age?

I don't want to say anything wrong at this point. Mick Jagger said at the time there was no way he would still be on stage singing 'Satisfaction' when he was 50... I also never thought I would live very old. The way of life in this band is anything but healthy: the touring life, the flights every day, the excitement, the noise pollution...

Also, there is a lot of drinking. It has gotten better, but in the past people often drank to the point of unconsciousness; especially in the east. Always. With a reason or without.

Do you have idols?

I think Helge Schneider is very good.

What's your biggest fear?

Quite factually: before dying.

What are your goals in life?

There are none today — I'm done, I've done everything I set out to do!

Do you have any regrets?

My only regret is that I didn't do various things. Then nothing.

[theprecuresystem]

The Precure System's Follower PokéChallenge

This is Hanadera Nodoka, PokéMMO edition:

PokéMMO Hanadera Nodoka, who will from now on be abbreviated as PHN, has just moved to the Johto region and found herself with a rulebook of how to live life and complete challenges there. She's been left a different set of rules for different game segments, and this will detail how that goes.

This challenge involves friends giving me specific rulesets to make the game harder, so I asked some friends and some followers to help me out - some of these segments are left blank, so if you want to throw your hat into the ring and take up a section, let me know what section you want and what rules you have for me.

From Johto Arrival Until Beating Falkner - By Yami Bakura of @cosmosiscollective

I was tasked by Yami Bakura to Fight Falkner without utilizing the flying type's natural weakness, and that I wasn't allowed to catch Pokémon that could do that kind of supereffective damage until I beat Falkner. To stick with the spirit, but make the challenge a little harder, I interpreted this to work in a slightly more challenging way. The rules of this segment are now as follows:

I am not allowed to catch any Pokémon of types that would be supereffective against the Flying type (Rock, Electric, Ice, etc.)

I am not allowed to catch any Pokémon of types that would RESIST the Flying type, even if their other typing would be weak to it (So no flying types, even if the other type is grass or bug - Hoppip and Butterfree are BANNED)

Pokémon I catch MUST be of types that are weak to the Flying type (Fighting, Bug, Grass)

I am not allowed to use moves that would be supereffective to the Flying type, but neutral and not very effective moves are permitted.

From post-Falkner to Bugsy - By @shimotachi

I was tasked by Frosted Flakes to use Bellsprout on my team, though I'm allowed to keep Pokémon from the previous segment. While I can keep those Pokémon from the previous segment on my team, it is MANDATORY I use Bellsprout until beating Bugsy. I have to use Bellsprout to beat Bugsy, and if Bellsprout faints, I need to restart the Bugsy fight. I've changed the rules here slightly too, to make it more interesting. They are now as follows:

I must use Bellsprout on my team for this section. No boxing him.

While the Pokémon from the previous segment are permitted to be on my team, they CANNOT be used in the Bugsy fight itself. Bellsprout has to Solo the gym.

If Bellsprout faints at ANY point during this segment, I must also go back and catch a new Bellsprout to use, to honor the Bellsprout Tower monks.

I must nickname the Bellsprout

From post-Bugsy to Whitney - Nobody has claimed this segment yet.

Nobody has claimed this segment yet.

From post-Whitney to Morty - By @luesmainblog

I was tasked by Lue to a VERY difficult ruleset for this segment... One full of milk, udders, and breeding.

I must obtain a Miltank. I may use however I wish, but I am not allowed to remove said Miltank from my party until I have beaten Morty.

The ONLY manner in which I am allowed to heal a Pokémon's HP is MooMoo Milk. If I wish to heal their PP at a Pokémon Center, their HP MUST be full first.

Outside of Trainer Battles, the ONLY area I am allowed to Level Grind at is the Pokéathlon Dome

I MUST obtain a Payday Meowth and bring it to Morty's Gym. This WILL require breeding, as the Meowth in PokéMMO's Johto are too high level to know this move.

Unless the previous segments have made obtaining Bill's Eevee legitimately impossible, I MUST bring a Vaporeon, Jolteon, or Flareon to Morty's gym.

From post-Morty to Chuck - Nobody has claimed this segment yet.

Nobody has claimed this segment yet.

From post-Chuck to Jasmine - Nobody has claimed this segment yet.

Nobody has claimed this segment yet.

From post-Jasmine to Pryce - Nobody has claimed this segment yet.

Nobody has claimed this segment yet.

From post-Pryce to Claire - Nobody has claimed this segment yet.

Nobody has claimed this segment yet.

From post-Claire to Beating the Champion - @the-bar-sinister

You may be wondering why PHN is dressed in all black rather than my signature color of pink. That's Sinister's doing, given this rule segment. For this segment, I have to dress up as a Team Rocket member, and roleplay Team Rocket. There's a lot of things this could mean, but I'm going to be interpreting it as being a Team Rocket Grunt for this segment, and turn it into a ruleset properly. The rules are as follows:

I must be dressed as a Team Rocket Grunt at ALL TIMES until beating the Champion

I must ONLY use Pokémon that Team Rocket grunts can be found using in Heartgold Soulsilver (These are the Drowzee line, Zubat line, Rattata line, Oddish line, Grimer line, Ekans line, Koffing line, and Venonat line)*

*UNLESS that Pokémon's Trainer ID is not mine - These will count as Stolen Rocket Pokémon, opening up encounters with the Spearow in Ilex Forest and the Shuckle in Cianwood City

Most grunts aren't too friendly to their Pokémon, Jesse and James being an exception, so Anything I Catch Myself must have a Friendship Value of LESS than 150 to be useable. This can be determined at the friendship checker.

As you can see, followers! This run will be difficult for us!

We like that it's going to be difficult for us! It's fun seeing everyone's ideas for different segments! I'm currently in progress of segment one, the Falkner Struggle, and excited to post about it when I'm done!

If you'd like to claim a segment yourself and give me some rules, reblog and put what you'd like and the ruleset in the post body or tags! Replying also works! I hope you enjoy our fun little playthrough!

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

Flake reads and tells stories at a session organised by Drecksack Literatur Zeitschrift (posted on yt 2024-02-17)

[boybandbaby]

I'm Not The Only One

Summary: You and Steve hate each other. He sees your boyfriend cheat on you. Will you believe him?

Word Count: 2316

Note: Not revised. This was an idea I got while listening to Sam Smith.

Your best friend was Eddie Munson and he had introduced you to the group when you moved back to Hawkins the summer after he graduated. Eddie spent so much time with his friends, especially Dustin that you grew close to him as well. You assume this is where the hatred from Steve started.

Steve would often hear your name so much it started to piss him off. First it was simple things such as Max or Nancy skipping out on group hangouts to go to the mall or a concert with you. Then it was his two closest friends Robin and Dustin who would go to you for things instead of Steve. It started with Robin: “Sorry Steve, Y/N is actually giving me a ride” after a shift. Then came Dustin: “I’m going to ask for Y/N’s opinion” on his outfit for a school dance or a date. Steve felt he was slowly getting replaced. With his lack of parents and his growing insecurities, Steve could feel himself isolating and becoming lonely. Soon, he would start flaking on group activities too and stop offering rides to his friends. 

Everyone noticed but no one knew how to bring up Steve’s absence. He would ignore their phone calls and door visits. He would be “too busy” at work to talk to Robin about it. He would somehow always be “unloading boxes” or “doing inventory” in the backroom when the kids would appear.

The group then decided to have a little meeting to see what they should do about it. It was when you suggested that maybe you should go talk to him about it, that the group started piecing together your new presence in the group coincided with his new absence. After much bickering from both Wheelers about how this seemed like a bad idea, you decided to just do it anyway.

So here you were, knocking for a third time on Steve Harrington's door. Eddie, Dustin, Robin, Lucas, and Max decided to “hide out” in Eddie’s van across the street to watch. You could definitely see them from the front door and so would Steve if he ever answered. You started getting impatient with Steve. His car was clearly in the driveway and you could hear the sound of a tv through the door.

“Steve, I know you’re in there. I can hear you.” You shouted. “If you don’t want to answer the door, I’ll just say my piece through the door.” You waited a few seconds. No reply. “Okay then, well we’re all worried about you. If me or any of the others did something to upset you, we’d like to know so we could fix it. I offered to come and speak with you because we all agreed ever since I joined the group, you’ve been off. If I’ve offended you or hurt you, I’d like to talk about it.”

The door suddenly opens and Steve’s looking as cozy and handsome as ever. Was he always this pretty? “H-hi Ste-” Your stuttering is cut short by Steve’s glaring and stern voice.

“I don’t want to speak with you.” He looks over your shoulder and can see Eddie’s van with several heads poking through the windows. “You can tell them that too. You know, since you’re this great, amazing, wonderful person. They clearly don’t need me anymore since they have you. Miss perfect.” He scoffs.

“Stev-” You attempt to stop him to ask what the hell is going on.

“Just go. Honestly, just get out of Hawkins. Go back to wherever the hell you came from and leave us alone. More importantly, leave me alone.” And with that the door slams in your face, leaving you in a blanket of embarrassment and anger. That was the start of your hatred for Steve.

-

A few years had gone by, the kids now seniors in high school. You’d met them when they were soon to be sophomores. Steve had integrated back into the group when you dialed back on your involvement. You’d often still hang out with Max or Lucas, and of course Eddie. But you started declining solo hangouts with Robin or Dustin and sometimes Nancy. Steve didn’t want to believe or think he was only useful now that you were out of the picture, well partially, but he appreciated it. It definitely helped with the loneliness too.

Over the last two years, anytime you’d see Steve, you’d just roll your eyes and keep your snarky comments to yourself (and Eddie who’d just chuckle and shake his head). Steve wasn’t as professional as you were though. He’d “accidentally” bump into you causing you to stumble, not enough to where you’d fall or seriously hurt yourself but enough to irk you and distract from whatever task you were doing. If you are at movie nights, he’d steal the entire bowl of popcorn or take the last slice of pizza or be super obnoxious by licking the top of the soda bottle so you (or anyone else) could have some. Of course Eddie would defend your honor and tell Steve to lay off and share his snacks with you, but it started to become too much. And there was the name calling: you forgot what time a hangout was? You’re dumb. You got over excited about a new song or movie? You’re a dork. You were too scared to go into a haunted house? You’re lame. So ultimately you started pulling back from the group even more.

This led you to seek friends in other places. That’s how you met Matt. Friend turned boyfriend. You’d met while on a solo trip to the arcade. He’d noticed you were playing Pac-Man alone and offered to play with you. You’d spent the entire night playing games and shared a basket of fries and chicken tenders. After exchanging phone numbers, you’d promise to see each other again. 

A few weeks later, you’d walked hand in hand into Family Video, all smiles as you searched the racks of movies. 

“Who the hell is that?” Steve leaned his elbows onto the counter, watching you and Matt. “She’s got a boyfriend? Since when?”

“They’ve been dating for like a month, you dingus. I’d think you’d realize that since she’s been spending less time with us.” Robin laughed quietly.

“Surprised anyone would want to date her, since she’s a witch.” Steve smiled at a customer who approached the counter. As he made small talk and rang the man up, you and Matt separated so you could go talk to Robin. Matt continued to scan the shelves, finding something you both might like. 

“Hey girly,” you smiled at Robin. “How’s work?”

“Better now that you’re here.” She winked, both of you chuckling. “How are things with Matt?”

“Good, good. We’re having a movie night at his place.” You smiled and looked over to Steve. “What are you staring at?”

“Nothing, nothing.” He laughed and threw his hands up in surrender. “You know, you might like this movie here. Since you starred in it and everything.” He handed you a copy of The Wizard of Oz.

You rolled your eyes, quick to respond. “You’re in it too ya know? You must have made a lot of money playing three roles. No heart, no brain, and a coward. I guess it didn’t take much to play those roles.”

“She got you there, Steve.” Robin laughed. 

“Matt, I’m going to wait outside.” You called.

“Okay babe, I’m almost done choosing.” He smiled, grabbing a copy of Grease. “Hey man, just this one.” He handed it to Steve.

“Sure thing.” He sighed and rang Matt up. Steve watched as Matt made his way out to you, throwing an arm around your shoulders and walking to his car. Steve scowled while Robin snickered. “What’s funny?”

“Oh dude, you’re so jealous.” Robin hopped onto the counter. “You like Y/N.”

“Absolutely not.” Steve faked a gag. “She’s the worst.”

“Why do you hate her so much? She literally never did anything.” Robin kicked Steve’s hip with her foot.

“She tried to replace me!” He argued.

“She did not. She had just moved here and her only friend was Eddie. She just wanted to make friends. You,” She kicked his butt cheek as he turned to leave from behind the counter. “Got jealous and blew up on her.”

“Did not.”

“Did too. And now you like her.” Robin hopped off the counter. “You try to hide it by being mean to her but you really like her.” She starts to make kissing noises. “You’re such a cliche Harrington.”

“Am not.” He tosses a rag toward her. “And I don’t like her.”

_

To say this night was a mess was a huge understatement. Not only had Steve’s comments actually hurt, but Matt was acting completely like Danny Zuko. You’d been watching Grease on his couch, snuggled under a blanket, when he tried to pull a move like Danny did to Sandy. You’d declined because you wanted to just watch the movie but he insisted. Then he made you feel guilty about not kissing him yet. You hadn’t had a serious kiss before and wanted to wait a bit. Your first kiss was with Eddie, a friendship pact to kiss each other and get it over with before you both turned 18. It was not good and you’d both laughed while it was happening. Now that you were looking to get serious with someone, you wanted a good first kiss redo.

The night had ended abruptly after you rushed off the couch and told Matt you’d see him later. You promised to call him when you got home. That call was not answered on his end. 

You tried calling him several times over the weekend but they all went unanswered. Had you messed up? No, he messed up. He was the one behaving like an idiot. You decided you’d go to his house and squash this entire thing Monday night after your morning shift.

What you hadn’t known was that he’d been preoccupied all weekend with his ex girlfriend Annalise. 

-

“You’re just trying to hurt Y/N. That didn’t happen Steve. It’s not funny.” Robin rolled her eyes. 

“I’m not Robin! I saw him. He had his arm wrapped around this girl that was not Y/N!” Steve followed her around the store as she reshelved returned tapes. “His tongue was down her throat. I swear.”

“How do you even know it was Matt?” She turned to face him, jumping when she realized just how close he was.

“He had on that stupid sweater vest and that lame haircut. I know it was him. Now you have to call Y/N and tell her.” He urged. 

“Why don’t you call and tell her yourself?” Robin shrugged. “You actually saw them.”

“She’ll believe you. She’ll never trust my word.” Steve pleaded. “Please, you have to tell her.” He grabbed the movie from her. “Please.” He whispered.

“I love Y/N but Steve, I didn’t see it and I don’t want to speak about something I don’t know about. Maybe ask Eddie to talk to her.” Robin snatched the movie back from Steve.

“If I tell Eddie, we’ll both be forced to kick this guy’s ass. I’d like to avoid going to jail for murder.” Steve sighed. “Please just talk to Y/N.”

“Talk to me about what?” Your voice carried across the store as their heads snapped to the door. The bell above the door definitely needed to be fixed. How did they not hear you come in? “Cat got your tongue?” You laughed and approached the counter.

“I was just telling Robin that you forgot to return Grease. It was due yesterday.” Steve muttered. 

“Actually, it’s under Matt’s name. So he forgot to return it. You can give him a call.” You shrugged. “Not sure if he’ll  answer the phone though.” You sighed.

“Well, what brings you in?” Steve asked nervously. There was no normal tone of annoyance or snarkiness laced in his words. You raised an eyebrow.

“Was just looking to speak to Robin actually. Girl problems.” You turn to look for her but she’s nowhere to be found. “Robin? Where’d she go?”

Steve’s just as clueless as you. He clears his throat and steps behind the counter. “So, um… how are things?”

“How are things?” You chuckle. “Why do you care?”

“I’m just trying to make small talk to fill in the awkwardness of this interaction.” He replies honestly. “How’s Matt?”

“I don’t know.” You lean against the counter. “He hasn’t been answering my calls. We kind of had a weird thing happen Friday night. That’s what I came by to ask Robin ab-”

“He’s cheating on you.” Steve blurts.

Your body tenses and you lean off the counter. “What?”

“He’s cheating. I saw him with another girl.”

“That’s not funny, Steve.” You glare at him, eyes narrowing. “You’re always so mean but this is super hurtful.”

“I’m not making a joke Y/N. I saw him!” He steps out from behind the counter as you start to back away. “I wanted to tell you but I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Who else knows? Who else was there?” You ask quietly, tears springing into your eyes.

“Just me.” He sighs. “I was grabbing food after work when I saw-”

“When? What day?” 

“Friday night. I thought it wasn’t him because he should’ve been with you.” He steps forward. “But he was wearing that vest with the diamond pattern. The green one. That’s how I remembered him.”

Suddenly, unfortunately, the bell signaling a new customer went off. Both you and Steve jumped at the sound, looking to the door.

“Welcome to Family Video!” Robin shouted as she entered from the back room. Her eyes flickered between Steve and you. You had to get out of there. And you did. Running as fast as possible back to your car. 

[sangorous]

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔

word count: 1.0k

genre/warnings: fluff? crack?/ none really

toji fushiguro x black!fem!reader

Las Vegas, the city that never sleeps. City filled with bright lights everywhere you went. What was supposed to be a weekend getaway with her girlfriends, turned into a solo trip. All of them flaking last minute, but who was she to stop her fun? Maybe going to Vegas by herself would be a good time. Besides, she didn't need them to have fun, she knew how to have fun by herself.

The flight from her hometown to Las Vegas wasn't that bad in her opinion. Taking the flight for the evening going into the night was the best option she's ever made. Watching the beautiful city lights as the plane made its destination to the airport.

[your name] needed to unpack at her hotel first before she decided to roam the streets of Las Vegas. The hotel was nice, very bright with cheerful people. She wasn't sure if she should've been happy or scared, or maybe both? She walked into the room that was supposed to be for her and friends, but was now for her. It was like a mini apartment, and she was in love. She looked at her phone and saw that it was 7:45, which meant it was time for her to go.

There were many things that she wanted to do on her first night here. The first thing she wanted to do was go to a casino. Neither her and her friends have been to one before, but now she was going to experience it before her friends could.

When she first walked in, it was loud. Not only was it loud, but it was bright. She didn't know if it was bright because of the money or lights, but a small smile formed on her face. She met with one of the workers at the casino who showed her around and how to work the machines.

The slot machine is where she resided. It was evident to those around her that she was good. Never missing a beat and each time she took a sip from her cup, her confidence became bigger. To her, it felt like this machine was made for her and only her.

"Wow..." she chuckled, attempting to collect all the coins.

"Might wanna use this," the deep voice spoke, handing her a bucket.

"Thanks..." she looked up at the male.

Hoping to catch his name, but they continued to stare awkwardly at each other.

"Oh you're waiting for my name? It's Toji," he caught onto her stare while she nodded her head.

"[your name]," he nodded his head while he watched the girl pour all of her coins in the bucket.

"Everyone else got tired of seein' me win huh?" she frowned, getting up from the chair.

"I mean I'd be bored if someone else instead of me was continuously winning, no offense," he chuckled while the frown was still on her face.

"Wow, at least you stayed," she quickly smiled.

"That's because it would've been painful to see you walk back and forth to the front of this casino and to that slot. By the first walk, all your money would've been gone,"

"Anyways, I can show you around here better than the employees can," he yawned, looking at her.

"You want somethin'?" she raised an eyebrow at the male.

"Just a good time,"

And just like he promised, he showed her how to exchange her coins for cash. Then the two went to the bar where they shared drinks and shots. The drinks and shots were nonstop, it just kept going. At this point, she could feel that her body was warm and she was ready to have fun. After their drink fest, they went to the roulette table. There, [your name] guessed a few numbers for Toji and luckily, he'd win.

"You must be a good luck charm," he shouted, picking her up and placing her over his shoulder.

The two of them had no idea what was going on. They were just two people looking to have a good time, and it was like fate brought them together. She didn't expect that she'd be having this much fun with a stranger she met two hours ago, yet here she was.

If she was here with her friends, she wouldn't think that she'd have this much fun.

The two were now walking around Las Vegas just sightseeing. This was Toji's first time walking around Las Vegas. He was usually in his room or at the casino, he didn't really care for sightseeing. For all her knew, was that the light tended to hurt his eyes sometimes. Now here he was with a girl he didn't even know. All he knew was her name.

"This place is so pretty," she gushed before staring at Toji.

He couldn't help but stare at her. She was beautiful. If princesses were real, he'd think that they'd all look like her. His eyes were just focused on her and only her. It was weird for him to feel like this. He only met her for a few hours, and he's feeling differently about her? Was that how love at first sight worked? Or was he getting ready to throw up? It was something and if he was being honest, he was hoping that he was getting ready to throw up. The last thing he wanted was to fall in love with a stranger.

"Are you gonna stop starin' at me?" she chuckled while he scratched the back of his neck.

"This is gonna sound stupid but... I think I'm falling in love with you," his cheeks were a bit red while she awed.

"Is that so?" she looked at him while he groaned.

"I think I'm not sure, I feel a bit funny and I've never felt like this before," he groaned, leaning against the rail nearby.

"Let's get married!" she shouted, looking at him.

"What..." his eyes went wide, looking at the crazy woman.

"C'mon! We're in Las Vegas. Let's do somethin' dumb. Somethin' that we probably won't regret tomorrow," she pleaded, looking at him.

Now she was definitely crazy, but he had no objections. After all, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

"Fine," he sighed, looking at her smile.

꒰𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐚'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬🥲.꒱

this was ass but i needed some toji fluff.

[zot3-flopped]

I know this a z-ot3flopped blog but I'm gonna talk real talk right now. Not as a "soft" harrie or an undercover Niall stan but as a realist. There's not gonna be a 1D tour. Not for a long time. Because, as it stands right now, it's not sustainable. Real talk. Harry and Niall won't do it.

We give Niall a lot of shit and he deserves most of it, but, he's also grown out of a lot of it. Settled down a lot. He doesn't need a reunion tour. If Harry does it he will but he doesn't need it. He made between 16-20 million off his two The Voice seasons, his golf management company (with the exception of Tyrell) is full of young, attractive up-and-coming golfers who are getting sponsorship deals left and right. He doesn't make money off their earnings but he does get a good percentage of the sponsorship deals the company makes for them, and his tour is doing fine so far. He also doesn't waste money on stupid things and drugs like the other three.

Then there's the "flake" factor. The other three are flaky af. No way Harry and Niall are committing to signing a contract to tour with Zayn the no-show king who's high all the time, Louis who drinks on stage and has a whole encyclopedia taped to the floor, and Liam the PR nightmare who can't stay out of rehab. They both have a work ethic and clean images as solo artists.

I'm not gonna list off Harry stuff because we'd be here all day and we're all Harries here. We KNOW why he's not gonna do it. Maybe in 10 years if the dipshit triplets clean up. MAYBE. But, not before then.

'A whole encyclopedia taped to the floor'! Love it. I agree that Niall would be very wary about touring as zot3. When he said that if 1d had carried on 'we'd have ended up killing each other" he wasn't talking about himself and Harry.

[davidkarofskyindie]

alphamales-rp (Owen/Sawyer)

@alphamales-rp

Owen couldn't believe he was actually showing off his webcam setup to anyone, let alone his best friend but he was in something of a bind. A week ago he'd promised his viewers a cam show with another hot guy but the cam boy he'd been talking to flaked on him at the last minute so he had done the thing he always did whenever he needed someone, he called Sawyer. He'd never hid his online work from Sawyer, it was something of a joke between them for years but he'd never actually tried to get the man on camera... until now.

"So that's the lighting rig, I know it's bright you gotta basically make the room as bright as possible for anyone to actually look good on camera. Speaking of, I got three cameras that I can control with a little remote by the bed so we can have multiple angles and cut between them on a whim he was pointing to each of the little things he had around his bed, trying to sound casual as possible "That little laptop there's where the chat pops up, so I can see whos tipping and if they want something or wanna say hi... normally they just ask to see your cock within about 5 seconds of the stream starting, they wanna cum right away and the trick is to hold them there as long as you can" he sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his pant legs awkwardly looking up to his friend "So that's kind of everything... when the show starts you talk to the camera for a bit, then when they start tipping you take some clothes off and soon it's sucking and fucking time. A good show's normally about 2 hours, you can make a couple grand easy and... and that's kind of it" he took a deep breath looking up to Sawyer "If it's too much I totally get it, this is the biggest thing I've ever asked you for and I know it's way beyond when we were younger and jerking off to some porno you found... but I promise, it'll be a good time and if you wanna keep it a secret I have a ski mask around so you can just be a sexy anonymous hunk... or you can go and I'll just tell everyone they're only getting a solo show, again I totally get it if this is too much"

[lewinthelighton]

"Lewin! I have something for you." Nix walked over with a small box and set it on the table. She reached into it to bring out a small white paper packet. "This is waterless body soap. You just rip off the corner, squirt it on your skin, rub it all over and keep doing so until it dries and flakes off. It takes all the dirt with it. There's a bottle of waterless hair shampoo too! Same thing. Think this will be easier for you?"

Lewin blinked at the box, a bit surprised over being gifted something. Huh, waterless soap? Odd, would that even work properly... He took one of the packets, giving it a curious sniff.

It didn't smell overly soapy. It could be easier than a proper bath. "... I suppose I can give it a try," he hummed, wondering if his smell was really bad enough to warrant this kind of gift. Though supposedly he work with students and teachers now, a bit different from his usual fieldwork and solo research. "Thanks, Nix."

[spieluhrzeit]

so. it's over. almost 3 months of concerts all done and dusted. and according to paul, there won't be any in 2025 or 2026. but, a documentary in the works and ramm4 as a single? sounds good to me!

it's probably selfish of me to be sad that everything has come to an end, but i'm glad it happened, y'know? this fandom isn't perfect, no fandom is, but i'm grateful for this wonderful community on tumblr i've squeezed myself into and my amazing mutuals here and in rammtisch, and all the content people have been posting. and i'm glad the boys are getting some time off, heaven knows they need it. i hope all of them find peace and rest in their downtime, and release projects when they want to, not when we want it. [although if anyone sees till rambling around in the woods lmk ;)]

i joined this community in late october of last year, so i'm accustomed to any content droughts from the boys. i will be using the lack of tours to work on my own fanworks. fics mostly, i have ideas for a few long ones, and maybe a few games here and there, even if they're just part of my uni coursework. in a similar sense i would love to see more emigrate from reesh or things from till but like i said, when they're ready :3

and speaking of till, his solo tour starts in september, i hope he has fun! but i also hope that he rests, and spends time connecting to nature (and perhaps the boys, they are one big family). i wish flake well in whatever he decides to do with his time, and if he starts an independent podcast, that is amazing and i will die!!! i honestly have well wishes for all of them, but because my blog is till/flake centric them especially.

finally, i'm glad everything went smoothly this year. the boys were amazing every step of the way, they were motivated, happy, playful and ofc gorgeous. and honestly? their health is all that matters to me.

i'm glad i was here to witness it all. even though i didn't go to any shows, i didn't feel like i missed out on anything. so, thank you, is all i'm saying :)