bc its requested by anon

A Grocery Store Saviour

Request: Omg i love your writing sooo much <3 I was thinking if you could do a story based off Michael Buble’s ‘Just Haven’t met you Yet’. I understand if you wouldn’t want to do it but thank you for your time :)

Word Count: 2,852

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Requested by Anonymous but also tagging @dont-give-a-bother @red-roses-and-stories and @caseoffics


“Next!” You call, back aching and feet sore. Work usually sucks, but today it’s a living hell. Saturdays are the normally busiest days at the grocery store but add the fact that it’s the first day of spring that’s warmer than 50 degrees, and you’ve got yourself a full store. The bustle of people weaving around one another in the narrow aisles meant that you’d been sent to clean up five separate messes and help one bawling seven-year-old find his mother. His snot covered fingers had wrapped around your own until you’d found his mother who’d immediately decided to yell at you for not bringing him sooner. People bumped into you with every turn, resulting in scowls and foul language from some particularly angry customers. You’d had to ask people to repeat themselves four different times because of the clamor and been asked because of that if it were really right for a woman to be working. On top of all that, you wore heels today so your feet want to fall off and the store’s air conditioning hardly works, meaning hot sweat drips down your back and soaks your hairline.

Despite the annoying customers and the math involved, you’re almost grateful to work at the cash register now instead of work on the floor when you hear the horrific sound of gagging nearby. Your coworker Arthur rushes past you, mop already in hand.

Raising your eyebrows at the situation, you shake your head and take stock of everything a middle-aged man in front of you sets on the counter. He wears a dark suit and a cap to hide what you assume is a balding head. He’s muttering something to himself as thick beads of sweat slide down his face, over the patches of red dotting his cheeks and forehead and collecting on his upper lip. Every time he says something, a bead flings off its place above his lip, landing on the counter in front of you.

You cringe but reach for his items and pull them closer. Flipping the page on your notepad, you begin writing the costs of everything down.

“Do you not bother to keep your customers happy here?”

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you take my hand and drag me head first fearless

anonymous asked:

ffff do u take requests??? can i ask that u draw mikoto??? sksdakli rlly love ur art style (ps. im sorry if you dont take requests plz just ignore it if this does end up being the case)

I HOPE THIS IS THE MIKOTO YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT

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(requested by anon)

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tmr characters random personality types: [ minho ]

zodiac sign: aries ; mbti type: estj ; hogwarts house: slyhterin ; aligment: chaotic good ; bending type: fire bender ; temperament: choleric.

anonymous asked:

What about the first time hiccup kisses astrid?(like in rtte or something)

A/N: Hey, anon! <3 This was a very fun prompt for me, so I appreciate you sending it in! :) Thanks so much!! I hope you enjoy reading it!

Here we go, my first little drabble attempt at the first Hiccup-initiated kiss. 


We Should Talk

You,” an unmistakably distinct voice announced firmly, effectively snapping Hiccup from his trance. It was rather late in the evening, but Hiccup had been pouring over a stack of maps and sketching out lines of charcoal along the parchment as he analyzed them. He claim that didn’t expect anybody to be up at such an hour, though that would be a lie. Of course she was awake at a time like this. She always was, doing Odin knew what.

…Another lie. She just completed her patrols for the evening.

Her second set of her patrols.

In the past hour.

Hiccup usually wouldn’t bother to turn around and pry his eyes away from his work, solely because Astrid never really expected him to completely drop whatever it was he was doing, but the authoritative tone in her voice demanded that he gave her his full attention. In respect to the urgency of the inflection she used, Hiccup set down the stick of charcoal he’d been working with to stand up and face Astrid.

“Me,” he responded with a slight nod of his head and a gentle smile. His expression, however, grew to be more inquisitive upon seeing the one that Astrid wore. She stood at the entrance of the club house, her arms akimbo and her chin lifted the slightest bit as she stared him down. “What can I do you for, Astrid?” he queried, wiping down his coal-smudged fingers down on the front of his tunic, sans the leather armor.

“We should talk,” she said decisively, crossing the room to stand before him.

Oh, Gods.

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