He came in one day when you were still nursing a hangover over your register.
It was only 10 AM. You realized later on that this was an unusual time for him to come in. The door chimed and you groaned internally, unprepared to start the day as a functional human being.
Your interest was peaked when you glanced at the reflective glass and saw someone wearing what appeared to be a heavy leather jacket. In July. Curious, you watched as the stranger ran a hand through his raven locks and walked over to the fridge.
He was broad shouldered. Tall. Wore some heavy boots and a couple of heavy ring on his fingers. You licked your lips anxiously. His aura was intriguing and you were suddenly nervous about seeing his face.
He swung open the door and rummaged through the bottles. You bet yourself he would get a Red Bull. Or even a beer. He totally seemed like a guy that would get a beer at 10AM. The sleeve of his jacket rode up a little and you saw what seemed to be an intricate tattoo. You squinted to inspect further but he suddenly cleared his throat, grabbed a carton of milk and began to gulp it down with gusto.
You watched as a trickle of milk rolled down his chin, his adam’s apple beating rhythmically. When the last of the diary had reached his mouth, he gave a satisfied sigh, smacked his lips and wiped his mouth.
You wondered if he was the Terminator.
He sauntered over to the register, milk carton still in hand and you got a real good look at him. He was good looking in the way that it was almost too predictable. Steel grey eyes, high cheekbones, full lips. His hair fell effortlessly round his jawline. He wore a white tank top under his jacket which failed to conceal the plethora of tattoos spread across his chest. His fingers were tattooed. It was almost as if he purposely trying to look scary to distract everyone from noticing how handsome he was. You tried to suppress a scoff.
“How much?” he asked, his voice deep and rumbly. His stormy eyes looked past you, tired but alert.
“Two forty nine.” You replied, your eyes scanning his face, trying to memorize his features so you could remember this as the most interesting customer you’ve had so far.
He dug into his pockets, dropped the change, and walked out before you had time to open the register. And he was gone. Just like that. Just like a dream.
It was August 9th the next time he came in.
You were working the overnight shift. Why you agreed to this, you still weren’t sure. You wanted to torture yourself. Maybe you were bored. You assumed you’d see more interesting characters at night. You were almost wrong.
The bell chimed as you chewed your gum and you barely glanced up from your trashy tabloid magazine. You sensed him before you saw him. You smelled the leather and the faint scent of cigarettes. He was already at the fridge when you finally saw him.
He grabbed the same as last time. One liter, Mrs. Perry’s fresh farm whole milk. You were two percent fan. You wondered if normal people even drank whole milk anymore. He opened the carton again and drank it in one steady gulp. You watched as milk dribbled down his chin again.
He walked over and nodded at you. He seemed more awake this time.
“Pack of Marlboro” He drawled, setting the empty carton down on the counter. You reached behind you to get them feeling his eyes on your back. He opened them immediately and placed a slender, death stick between his lips as you ran the register.
You wondered if he always opened products before paying for them. You could see where he was coming from. Testing out the product before committing right? What’s not to say the milk wasn’t spoiled (it wasn’t–you only stocked it this morning) or the cigarettes weren’t faulty (you wouldn’t know, you’ve never smoked). It was perfectly reasonable. But you know if your manager was on duty he would reprimand you.
You stammer the price out this time. He reaches deep into his pockets and leaves a crumpled twenty. He’s out the door before you can give him the change.
It was almost 2AM when you start dozing off. You’re doing an overnight again. This time it’s on purpose.
You’ve only thought about the leather clad stranger about fifty times. Everyday your head would perk up for every customer entering the door but it wasn’t him. Not at 10AM or 7PM. The only logical explanation was that he’s vampire. Hence he only comes out after midnight. So you switched with Peter, the chubby, watery eyed new guy for the overnight. He was more than happy. You wonder if you made a stupid mistake.
Visions of cigarettes, milk, leather and spice cloud your half closed eyes. The door dings but you’re too exhausted to care at this point. You hear laughter and footsteps towards the fridge and you know it’s not him. He doesn’t laugh. At least you’ve never heard him.
“Padfoot, I don’t know why I agreed to this. I really don’t think they’re moving tonight. You’ve staked out here for the past month. Its not today.”
The fridge door slams and you finally snap awake. You see a mop of jet black hair and your heart leaps for a second. You blink rapidly only to realize its just a man with a wide grin and glasses. He’s holding a red bull. Typical.
You ring up the register when you see him. He has a pack of crisps this time. The milk is already open and finished. His friend visibly cringes at the empty carton.
“Honestly Pads, I don’t know you can drink a liter of milk every frickin day,” the friend blanches putting his red bull on the counter.
You forgot to breathe. Your heart is going a thousand miles a minute. The thoughts racing through your head are actually quite simple. His name is Padfoot (what kind of name is that??). He looks gorgeous.He does drink a liter of milk every day. He looks so fricking gorgeous He’s been staked out here for a month?!
Before you can stop yourself, your humongous mouth opens. “Are you an assassin?” You blurt out, staring Padfoot in the eye. There is a silence. You are mortified. Maybe Padfoot is his code name.
The friend speaks first, early leaning forward with a cheshire grin. “Well depending on who you’re asking, he might as well-”
“Give it a rest Prongs” Padfoot snaps in response.
Oh no. You’ve offended him. But you might be right?
Padfoot clears his throat. “I’m a detective.” he states. “Undercover,” he adds quickly when you look over his attire. Same leather jacket.
“Me too!” Prongs chimes in. “We’ve been investigating a drug trafficking ring that we think might have their headquarters close to here. Dead boring honestly. Haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary in weeks.”
You nod as you began to bag up the items. Internally, you’re ecstatic. A detective. You know an assassin was too good to be true. But a detective is better than you could have hoped. You wonder if you should work only overnights from now on. You should talk to Peter.
The man named Prongs continued to blabber but you tuned him out. He’s a little noisy. You turn eagerly towards Padfoot and offer a tentative smile. He clears his throat again and pulls out a wallet.
“If you see any suspicious activities, give us a call.” He states casually, sliding a card towards you. You stop breathing again. He nods and heads out.
The card reads: Sirius Black. Senior Investigator.
Magnus and Alec both come back home after a pretty nasty fight. Magnus has exhausted himself, he’s used his magic to its limits, and before going to bed, Alec decides to take care of him…
He’s really exhausted but at first he refuses.
“It’s ok Alexander, I can dot it myself”
“Magnus..” Alec whispers. “Please, I wanna do this for you. You’ve left too much energy into that fight.”
Magnus is very nervous. He sems uncomfortable and Alec doesn’t remember ever seeing him like this. So Alec asks what’s going on, and Magnus whispers something that Alec can barely hear this time.
“I… I didn’t let anyone see my face bare, for a long time…” Magnus is terrified to let Alec see him so vulnerable. His make-up is his armour. Is he ready to let go of it?
Alec is speechless, something in him is now hurting for Magnus. How can this beautiful, magical man, be so insecure suddenly? Magnus Bane is confidence, excentricity, fire. Everything that Alec is not. But this new Magnus in front of him, is so different, and Alec wanna protect him at all cost. No one will ever make him feel bad about himself again.
He sweetly brings his hands to Magnus’s face, caresses his cheeks sweetly and tells him “Look at me, Magnus. You are beautiful…, so beautiful in every way, it leaves be breathless every day.” He pauses. “Don’t be afraid to be yourself with me… let me take care of you, please”.
Magnus feels his heart beating suddently so fast, so he closes his eyes to compose himself, and inhales deeply. Deep down, he wanna trust Alec, he wanna allow the young nephilim to see all of him. He needs it.
So after a few seconds of silence, he nods shyly. He allows Alec to remove his make up, and his jewels. Magnus Bane lets Alec Lightwood remove his armour. He doesn’t need it with him.
Magnus knows that this time, he doesn’t have to be afraid to be his true self in front of someone. So he lets his unglamoured eyes appear as well, for Alec…
This is the first act of intimacy they share, before anything else…
11/100 days of productivity! Today I almost solely worked on my policy report for my Politics SAC, which I put off for ages and now that I’ve started I’m really enjoying it and don’t want to stop!! I had coffee and a chat with my Dad tonight in a nice cafe, talking through the relevant changes to superannuation so that I understand it fully ☺️ This week has gone so fast! 🌸
Sorry these models aren’t the best but I added new merch designs to my redbubble. They are available on everything from stickers to phone cases. I redid my most popular design “So Cute I Crashed Furaffinity”, previously inspired by a beibadgirl/nikkilipstick design. I decided I wanted something more in my style. The other is a brand new design inspired by Pokemon Go!
Six expansions, six system patches. Each and every one has seen its share of controversies. Legion‘s finally went live last week, providing a much-needed defibrillation to WoW‘s heartbeat. While the community has rejoiced at the release, not everyone is happy with some of the changes that 7.0 has wrought.
Players have pushed back against the camera distance change, for example. Certain class changes have also been unwelcome to some, such as Survival’s return to its melee glory days — never all that glorious during classic — or the Holy Paladin’s new emphasis on inspiring your allies with your courage to stand in cleave range instead of cheering them on from 40 yards away next to the other, sensible healers.