Title: The Best Day Ever (Reader x Natasha Romanoff)
Summary: Natasha and the Reader are having a laid back, relaxed day of staying indoors and cleaning. All is full of rainbows and smiles until Natasa insists that she can handle cooking a box of macaroni and cheese.
Word Count: 1129
A/N: OMG THIS IS JUST TOO CUTE AND UGH ADORABLE. I love it so much, and hope you do, too. I hope you enjoy! :)
Holtzmann has no candy preference. If it’s sweet and bad for you, she’ll eat it, but she loves to set up jelly beans across her desk and “Pac-Man” them up, or goes for the ‘I’m snorting cocaine only I’m inhaling jelly beans instead’ approach and scares the shit out of Erin. She’s also been known to suck the cream out of a Cadbury cream egg.
Patty loves exotic chocolates. You get her a gourmet chocolate box from Sweden and she’ll hug you tight enough it might count as premeditated murder on account of being suffocated in boob. Hollow chocolate rabbits are a close second.
Abby is a slut for chocolate bunnies. The bigger the better. And bags of Starburst jelly beans, which she has to wrestle away from Holtz. One year, Patty gave Abby a big hollow chocolate rabbit she filled with enough chocolate liquor, salted caramel vodka, and half-and-half to drown an alcoholic. That quickly became her favorite Easter treat.
Erin love peeps. This is a secret she has to hide from everyone on account of the ‘busters distaste for the marshmallow candy. The more colorful the better, in her book. Reece eggs are close second and she shares a love for jelly beans with Holtz and Abby, only in slightly less moderation.
21. A Promise (I added Valentine’s as a theme too)
Much like many other high schools, Fukurodani Academy’s homeroom classes were divided by year, with third-years on the topmost floor and first-years on the ground floor. Currently, students on every floor could hear the rapid, stomping footsteps of a third-year storming his way down the halls and down the stairs to the second floor, screaming,
Second-year-in-question, Akaashi Keiji, face flaming red from his hair-line to his collarbone, fled down the opposite stairwell to the first floor and out toward the gym.
The aforementioned third-year, Bokuto Koutarou, captain and renowned ace of the school’s volleyball team, gave quick pursuit, catching him eventually behind the gym.
“Bokuto-san, please be quiet!” Akaashi panted, hunched over to catch his breath.
“You gave me Valentine’s Day chocolate!!!”
“…you’re louder than I am right now, though,” Bokuto pursed his lips, clutching the small rectangular box of gourmet chocolates in his fingers.
“You gave me chocolate! You must really love me, huh?” He was grinning now, eyes flashing and both rows of teeth glittering brightly in challenge.
“It’s…” Akaashi fiddled with his fingers as he struggled to form the right words. Keeping their little truth a secret meant there was no way to stop the usual swarm of girls sending the nationally-ranked ace chocolates and a mountain of other sweets in adoration. Akaashi couldn’t stop them. But if he could just make a small dent of his own… knowing that Bokuto would treasure his contribution more than any of the others…
“You know…” Bokuto carefully closed the distance between them, eyes out for any stray students wandering by the gyms. “…it’s really bad of me, but I always forget about White Day presents in return. But this year!” He held up Akaashi’s box between them. “This year, I’ll remember! It’s a promise!”
“If you forget, I won’t forgive you,” Akaashi mumbled.
“I won’t forget! It’s a promise! I never forget promises!” Deciding they were alone enough, Bokuto hopped forward to steal a quick smooch.
A promise sealed in a kiss behind a gym over a box of chocolates to the ringing chimes of the first bell.
What the actual fuck is wrong with people? Who needs to pick up and unfold
- EVERY - SINGLE - SHIRT -
on a display? What takes customers seconds to mess up takes you minutes to fix and while that may not seem like a long time, multiply that by four displays per aisle, and multiply THAT by the dozen in your department alone. And you don’t even want to THINK about all of the destroyed clearance racks, shuffled hanging displays, and repetitive questions from rude shoppers that will pepper the rest of your six hour closing shift.
Keeping the store neat is your job though, just behind making sure customers have a “good shopping experience,” whatever the hell that means. Thankfully, you have a partner today, someone to watch the ever busy fitting room while you try and maintain the merchandise on the floor. Quite frankly, it feels exactly like bailing a sinking oil tanker with a measuring cup.
Ah, the wonders of retail.
“Can I have all associates meet at the registers for the nightly huddle?” your manager’s peppy voice screeches out of your ear piece as you grapple for the volume knob on the walkie talkie, turning it down to save your hearing.
Nightly huddle, great. Fifteen minutes taken out of your meticulously planned folding schedule for the luxury of knowing if the store reached corporate’s sales goal, credit goal, unreasonably high service score goal, and other, completely useless information.
You would admit to hating it, but you need the money.
It’s the middle of summer, after all, and what better way to spend your break from college than at your part time job? At least your coworkers are nice. Most of them.
“Welcome, welcome, welcome!” your manager coos, clapping her hands excitedly, “We have big, big, big news today!”
Just like the big, big, big news yesterday, but you fail to bring it up, opting instead to share her large, but impressively genuine smile because kissing up to managers is one of the things you do best.
As the other employees slowly congregate, setting down the clothes they had been fixing nearby instead of waiting idly, you nod your polite hellos, happy to see some more than others, naturally. You pause your visual sweep, the motion abruptly stopping on a new face, and immediately notice two things.
yoongi is the kind of heavy sleeper that wouldn’t so much as budge a single muscle even if the zombie apocalypse were to break out and chaos befell the world around him.
he’s actually been known to sleep through a consecutive string of wake up calls consisting of seven pre-set alarm clocks, one shouting manager hyung, and a really annoying air horn that taehyung had picked up from somewhere in america during one of their pacific tours (seokjin has tried to get rid of it on many occasions, but taehyung must have some kind of hidden powers because the thing manages to reappear no matter what the circumstances).
however, returning to the point, min yoongi can pretty much sleep through anything.
but when there’s a five foot seven, hundred and thirty pound boy sitting on top of your stomach, effectively cutting off the flow of your air circulation, even a sleeper like yoongi is bound to be jolted into waking up.
and yoongi is definitely not pleased, no matter how much jimin might be his favorite.
Title Be Mine? Rating General Word Count 3,600+ Notes HAHA guess who was your Valentine, @obsessivedino? IT WAS ME. I was so happy that I got you, I love writing for you and need to do it much more :* HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY INK!! __________________________________
Something had been bothering Noiz for a couple of weeks now. He couldn’t entirely put it into words, but it felt like a heavy weight settled on his chest, bothersome and ever-present.
Aoba had been spending more time around Theo lately. A lot more time than usual, without even telling Noiz. Even more than that, when he stepped out of his office, the two of them were usually standing in the hallway, whispering excitedly to one another, and as soon as they noticed Noiz was near, they went quiet, looking in opposite directions like nothing happened. Whenever Noiz asked anything about brief encounters like those, Aoba avoided the question entirely.
Once when he brought it up, Aoba brushed it off by asking a question of his own.
“It’s nothing, really. Why are you so worried?” he asked while finishing up drying the last of the dishes from dinner. Suddenly his lips curled into a smirk. “Could it be that you’re jealous?”
“I am not jealous,” Noiz refuted, speaking far too quickly and far too hastily, taking the plate from Aoba’s hands and putting it away.