#Bean To Cup Coffee Machine For Offices

[coffeemachineswarehouse]

best espresso machine for coffee shop in USA

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[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Morning Brews & Scarlet Hues

CEOs!WandaNat x Coffee shop owner!fem!reader

Word count: 2.1K

Summary: The two hottest and most successful CEOs come into your coffee shop to flirt with you. You didn't expect them to flirt with you and you certainly weren't expecting them to be married and asking you out

Warnings: Slow burn to established relationship, mild panic attack, light angst, polyamory dynamics

Authors notes: This was a request that you can find here!

The smell of freshly ground coffee beans filled the air as you flipped the sign on the door, officially opening for the morning rush. The warm glow of the sunrise streamed through the large windows, painting golden streaks across the polished wooden countertops. The shop was quiet, peaceful—the kind of morning that made waking up at the crack of dawn worth it.

You moved through the familiar motions: turning on the espresso machine, setting out fresh pastries, and humming softly to the indie playlist playing over the speakers. The bell above the door chimed, signaling your first customer of the day.

And what a first customer she was.

Wanda Maximoff stepped inside, the scent of her expensive perfume—warm vanilla and hints of spice—blending with the coffee-rich air. She was breathtaking. Dressed in a deep scarlet blouse tucked into a perfectly tailored black pencil skirt, her heels clicked against the hardwood floor with every confident step. Waves of auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her sharp green eyes found you instantly, a slow, knowing smile curving her lips.

“Good morning, darling,” she greeted, her voice smooth like honey. She leaned casually against the counter, her gaze lingering just long enough to make your heart pick up speed. “You’re always up so early. I don’t know how you do it.”

You grinned, leaning in just slightly. “The secret is lots of coffee. Speaking of which, your usual?”

She tilted her head, pretending to consider. “Hmm. I don’t know… I was thinking of trying something different today.” Wanda tapped a manicured finger against her lips, then looked at you through her lashes. “What would you recommend?”

You bit your lip, playing along. “That depends. Are you in the mood for something sweet? Bold? Maybe something that lingers, like a slow burn?”

Her smile deepened. “You know me so well already.”

You turned to start making her drink, feeling the weight of her gaze following your every movement. As you steamed the milk, Wanda’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the machine.

“You always look so lovely in the mornings,” she mused. “Something about the sunrise on your skin… it’s unfair, really.”

Your hands faltered for just a second before you regained your composure, glancing over your shoulder. “Flattery so early in the day, Miss Maximoff? You must really want this coffee to be perfect.”

Wanda chuckled, a low, sultry sound. “I already know it will be. I just like watching you get all flustered.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, finishing up her drink and sliding it across the counter. “One hazelnut oat milk latte, with an extra shot of charm, just for you.”

She took the cup, her fingers grazing yours briefly—just enough to send a small spark up your arm. “Perfect,” she murmured, taking a sip. Then, with a glance at the clock, she sighed. “Duty calls. But I do hope you’ll miss me while I’m gone.”

You leaned on the counter, resting your chin on your hand. “If you come back tomorrow, I might just admit that I do.”

Wanda smirked, backing toward the door. “Careful, sweetheart. I just might hold you to that.”

And with that, she was gone, leaving you standing there with a stupid smile and a rapidly beating heart.

What a way to start the morning.

⟡ ˚ ༘☕️🤎🧸 ⋆｡°

The morning rush came and went in a blur of familiar faces and steady hands crafting lattes, cappuccinos, and cold brews. You chatted with old college friends who stopped by for their usual pick-me-ups, exchanged pleasantries with the office workers from nearby businesses, and watched with a fond smile as the group of older ladies settled into their usual corner, their laughter filling the shop like the soft chime of wind bells.

By the time lunch rolled around, the café had settled into a comfortable rhythm—enough customers to keep things moving but slow enough that you could catch your breath.

And then she walked in.

Natasha Romanoff.

If Wanda was a striking flame in scarlet, Natasha was pure, effortless power wrapped in sharp sophistication. She strode through the door with the confidence of someone who owned the entire block, her tailored black suit hugging her lean frame, a deep crimson silk blouse adding just the right amount of color. The sleeves of her blazer were pushed up slightly, revealing the expensive watch on her wrist, and her auburn hair was styled to perfection—sleek, neat, and tucked behind her ears just enough to showcase the small, understated earrings she wore.

Her green eyes scanned the café with sharp precision before they landed on you. And then, just like that, the cool, detached aura softened—just a little.

"Hey, sweetheart," she greeted smoothly, approaching the counter with measured steps. Her voice was low, smooth like aged whiskey, and it sent a shiver down your spine. "Busy day?"

You smiled, reaching for a cup as you wiped your hands on your apron. "Nothing I can’t handle. But seeing you walk in? Definitely brightens things up."

Natasha huffed a quiet chuckle, her lips curling in amusement. "Careful, malyshka. You keep talking to me like that, and I might start showing up more often."

You tilted your head, smirking. "That supposed to be a threat or a promise?"

She raised a brow, clearly enjoying the banter. "Depends. What are you going to do to convince me?"

Leaning forward slightly, you tapped the marker against the cup in your hand. "Well, I could make your coffee extra special. Or I could just keep giving you a reason to come back."

Natasha exhaled a short laugh, shaking her head. "Bold today, aren’t you?"

You shrugged, already scribbling on the cup before starting her drink. "Must be something in the air."

As the espresso machine hummed to life, Natasha leaned on the counter, watching you work. "You always this charming, or am I just lucky?"

You shot her a playful look over your shoulder. "Oh, you’re definitely lucky."

She chuckled again, a sound you were quickly becoming addicted to. When her drink was ready, you slid it across the counter, her fingers grazing yours for a brief moment—intentional, you were sure. But Natasha's brows lifted slightly as she caught sight of the small, handwritten note on the cup.

For my favorite midday distraction.

Her lips parted in surprise before curling into a slow, knowing smirk. She traced the edge of the cup with her thumb, eyes flicking up to meet yours. "You really are pushing the envelope today."

You shrugged, biting your lip. "Just wanted to make sure you had something sweet with your coffee."

Natasha studied you for a moment, as if trying to decide just how much further to push back. Then she lifted the cup in a small toast. "Careful, sweetheart. I just might get addicted to this place."

And with that, she turned, walking out the door with the same effortless confidence she came in with.

You let out a breath, watching her go.

First Wanda, now Natasha.

If you weren’t careful, you were going to end up falling hard for both of them.

⟡ ˚ ༘☕️🤎🧸 ⋆｡°

The days turned into weeks, and your routine became something of a delicious torment.

Each morning, Wanda would arrive—always impeccably dressed, always so effortlessly charming. Her sharp green eyes would light up when she saw you, her soft flirtations making your heart race as she leaned in just a little too close when taking her coffee.

Then, in the afternoons, Natasha would show up—calm, confident, and devastatingly alluring. She met your teasing with equal energy, pushing back just enough to keep you on your toes. Her smirks, her low chuckles, the way she traced the rim of her cup when reading your little notes—it was intoxicating.

And the worst part? You were falling for both of them. Hard.

You didn’t know what to do about it. Every stolen glance, every lingering touch, every little flirtation made it harder to ignore. You told yourself you had to be imagining things. No way two insanely attractive, successful women were both interested in their local barista. Right?

Then came Saturday morning.

You had just finished setting up the pastry case when the familiar chime of the bell rang. You turned, already preparing your usual bright greeting—until you saw them.

Together.

Wanda and Natasha walked in side by side, both dressed far more casually than you had ever seen them. Wanda wore a burgundy sweater tucked into a pair of high-waisted jeans, her hair loosely curled, looking every bit as stunning as she did in her sharp work attire. Natasha, on the other hand, had opted for a black leather jacket over a fitted white t-shirt, her jeans ripped just slightly at the knees, her hands tucked in her pockets as she scanned the café like she owned the place.

Your heart nearly stopped.

They knew each other.

They were here together.

And as they approached the counter, exchanging a small, knowing glance with each other before turning their attention to you, a slow realization began to sink in.

Oh. Oh no.

You had been flirting with them both.

And they knew.

Wanda and Natasha shared a smirk, something unspoken passing between them before they turned their attention back to you.

“Good morning, darling,” Wanda purred, leaning on the counter like she always did, her emerald eyes twinkling with amusement. “You look even more adorable when you're surprised.”

“Speechless, huh?” Natasha added, her voice smooth and teasing as she propped her elbow on the counter, chin resting on her hand. “Didn’t expect to see us together?”

Your mouth opened and closed a few times, your brain scrambling to catch up. The room felt like it was tilting. They weren’t just acquaintances. They weren’t just friends.

They were together.

As in together together.

You gripped the edge of the counter, trying to ground yourself. “I—uh—”

Wanda hummed, her smirk deepening. “You know, I had a feeling this might happen.”

Natasha nodded, taking a sip of her coffee as if this was the most casual thing in the world. “Mmm. Same. It was cute watching you flirt with both of us like you weren’t going to get caught eventually.”

You choked on air. “I—wait—you knew?”

Wanda chuckled, reaching out to trace a lazy circle on the counter with her fingertip. “Of course we knew, sweetheart.”

“We’re married,” Natasha added, lifting her left hand slightly, letting the gold band on her ring finger catch the light. “Did you really think we wouldn’t talk about the cute little barista who’s been shamelessly flirting with both of us?”

Your brain short-circuited.

Married.

They were married.

And they had both been flirting back.

You felt like your heart might actually give out. “I—I didn’t—”

Wanda reached across the counter, gently brushing the back of her fingers against yours, her touch sending a jolt up your arm. “Relax, sweetheart,” she cooed, her voice as smooth as silk. “We’re not mad.”

Natasha leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “In fact… we kind of like it.”

Your breath hitched.

Oh hell.

Your grip on the counter tightened as their words sank in, but everything felt off-kilter—like you were suddenly standing on shaky ground. Your usual confidence, the flirtatious ease you had with them, was gone. You weren’t sure if you wanted to scream, laugh, or collapse.

They had known. They had planned this. And now they were here, together, standing in front of you, looking at you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.

Your breath came quicker, shallower, and your fingers trembled slightly against the countertop.

Wanda was the first to notice.

Her teasing smirk melted away in an instant, replaced by something softer, something gentle. She reached across the counter, not to tease this time, but to comfort, her fingers brushing against yours again, but with intention.

“Hey, hey,” she murmured, her voice warm and steady. “It’s okay, Y/N.”

Natasha’s expression softened too, the playfulness fading into something more sincere. “We came to tease you a little, sure, but we also came to ask you something.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus on Wanda’s steady touch, on Natasha’s calm presence. “A-Ask me something?”

Wanda nodded, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Yes. We wanted to ask if you’d like to go on a date.”

Your breath hitched.

A date.

With them.

You stared at them, at Wanda’s soft but hopeful smile, at Natasha’s quiet confidence, and for the first time since they walked in, the world stopped spinning.

“You… both want to take me on a date?” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha chuckled, the sound low and reassuring. “That’s right, sweetheart.”

Wanda tilted her head. “What do you think?”

You exhaled shakily, your heart pounding. You weren’t sure what this was, what it could be, but the thought of saying no felt impossible.

So, with a nervous but growing smile, you nodded.

“I think… I’d really like that.”

[cupcakeinat0r]

Your middle-aged, loser Genetics professor who has a dad bod <3

Part 8

Miguel usually starts his day off by preparing a dark cup of coffee immediately after finally peeling himself out the bed. With droopy eyes and a five o’clock shadow, his husky figure stumbles into the kitchen, thirsty for caffeine. As he waits for the machine to do its magic, he’ll maybe run his hand through his dark, peppered, slept-on hair or take a moment to clean his glasses with the fibers of his sweats. Once the cup is prepared, the fresh scent of grinded coffee beans in the air, he’ll lean against his kitchen counter, sipping happily from his world’s best brain mug. He’ll relax for a moment, thinking about the material he’s planned for the day. Once he’s done, he’ll wash his cup, and start getting ready.

He left the suit about three years ago, taking up the job as professor of genetics and biochemistry at around the same time.

He’s been happy with his life here. It’s quiet. It’s peaceful. It’s simple. Everything he wanted. All the domesticity that was missing in his life had been rediscovered once he hung the mask. It’s been the best decision he’s ever made.

He didn’t think things could get better until you came along. This gorgeous, smart, funny, sweet person that had him wrapped around their finger. And given his stature and age, he never would have thought you’d fallen, too.

So this morning looks a little different, and every morning since he’s met you, for that matter.

Miguel gets up from bed faster now, with you on his mind. Once he makes his way into the kitchen for his fix of coffee, he’s reminded of the dream, possibly a pornographic one, he had about you. He’s like a horny teenager all over again, with an ache between his legs that, now, only you can inflict on him, and it’s there every morning.

Miguel now uses the time that it takes for the coffee to drip to shoot you a good morning text, accompanied by multiple heart emojis. And of course, he takes a little longer to get ready in the mornings just because he wants to make sure he looks his absolute best for you.

Today, while sipping on his café, he remembers the conversation you two had. It was when you two had gone to his office after the library. And then he remembered the things he shared with you about his past life; how amazingly you took the dump of lore. Only a higher power would know what anyone else would’ve done or said after hearing things like that. He smiles to himself as he thinks about your one and only question/response to it all:

“Are you happy?”

The response itself was all that he needed to see if his feelings for you were valid, and these feelings have become the strongest thus far. Miguel doesn’t want to jinx it, but he thinks what he’s feeling is something a tad bit more serious than a simple crush, and that both excites and terrifies him.

While he gets ready for the day, he then thinks about the conversation prior to that. He meant everything he said last night about not having sex, but at the same time, he would want nothing more than to show you how much of a good man he can be to you, both in daily life and in bed. Even though he’s hard at the very thought of you, he also wants you to feel safe more than anything. Being with you is far more important than the needs of his dick.

The fact that you’re his student also sort of weighs in as well. Getting caught in a professor/student scandal on the last week of classes before you receive your masters would be disastrous. Thankfully (and surprisingly), no one has been suspicious of y’all this semester.

Honestly, Miguel is just looking forward to Summer, because for him, that means he gets to take you out and enjoy you every chance he gets.

<3

For the last few days of classes, you tend to your exams and Miguel busies himself with his own work. You guys haven’t really been with each other, with the exception of passing each other in the halls. It hasn’t been easy on you at all, and even more so on Miguel. Let’s just say his office door has been spending more time locked than unlocked, and not to score papers. Thankfully, the walls are thick.

The day you take Miguel’s exam is the very last day of classes, and at this point, both of you are antsy to not only see but just feel each other. The tension in the air is thick, the text messages have become spicier, and on multiple occasions have the phone calls been so close to just becoming pure phone sex, but you and Miguel had to keep your distance. Just for this week, and afterward, y’all can do anything you desired. For now, you have to settle for the small touches and occasional eye contact during the exam.

That night when he dropped you off at your place, you half joked about him giving you a perfect score purely out of bias.

“I would never. I take my exams very seriously, for your information.” He responded smugly, his hairy forearm on the door of his car where the window would be. “Besides, you’re far too smart for that.“ His voice softens toward the end of his sentence, that lovesick smile he always gawks at you with on his face.

“I’m serious, Mig. I want an accurate grade.” You match his volume, leaning down onto the car window, face to face with him.

“Mama, I promise. I’m sure you’ll get a perfect score anyways, but on the off chance that you don’t,” he leans closer to, his breath on yours, “Maybe I’ll just have to give you more private sessions during the Summer.” You chuckle against his lips once they meet yours.

“You’re such a horndog.” The words are muffled by his lips and tongue. “Only for you.” He mumbles, unable to keep his mouth off of yours. Miguel really was hot n bothered by you all the time, but honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s your little loser after all.

The glances and “accidental” brushing of hands had definitely occurred before and during the exam. Emotionally, it kind of took y’all back to the beginning of the semester, when the feelings were first bubbling. Alas, you had to stay focused. Compared to your peers, you practically flying through it. Even though you spent half the time mingling during them (and making out), the tutoring actually helped in the end.

When it was time to submit your exam, you gave him a knowing look. All Miguel does is give you a smile, but one that was genuine and sweet. One that reassured you in the sentiment that he was going to score you accurately.

At the end of the day, you didn’t even care about what score you got, as long as Miguel nor you get in trouble. That’s all that mattered to you.

<3

It’s later in the day, and you’re in your dorm. Tomorrow is your big day. The day you walk along the stage and take your master’s in your hand; physical proof of your knowledge and hardwork. You were also thinking about Miguel and what he’s up to, but what’s new.

You were thinking about how after your graduation, Miguel will no longer be your professor and you his student. You would just be two people who were absolutely crazy about each other, and you were looking forward to that.

You get a text from Miguel.

Missing my baby. Just thinking of you.

Aw, I miss my big teddy bear, too. What you up to?

Finished about 30% of these papers. Need to take a break, though. What if I came and picked you up?

And go where?

Home

I’m already at home, ya goof

I mean my home, but you absolutely don’t have to. We could go to the library or whatever you want.

No! I’d love to come over.

You sure?

Of course, I wanna see what other books I can steal from you

Only in this for the books, I see. Ouch.

Don’t be dramatic, you know that’s not true

Do I?

You gonna pick me up or not?

Putting my shoes on.

He had you kicking your feet. You were unsure if it was a good idea, but that didn’t stop it from being an extremely enticing one. You were just worried about someone seeing you enter his home, but otherwise, you would love to see where he lives, despite making the deal about not seeing each other until after graduation. This whole time, you’ve only gotten familiar with his office, and that’s only one small part of him. You just couldn’t wait any longer to be near him, and besides, classes are technically over.

<3

“So you’re half spider?” You and Miguel relax in his living room. You scour his book shelves while he makes you a drink. His place is exactly how you imagined it. It’s a balance of sharp and cozy, like him.

“I know, not the most exciting of confessions.” Miguel’s sarcasm seeps through his speech and it makes you huff. Such a sass master.

“I’m being for real. I think that’s amazing and all, but I’m glad you chose to leave that life.” Your eyes are still on the spines of his books when you start to hear heavy footsteps coming your way. He’s just as excited to be near you as you are, if not, more.

“Me, too,” Miguel wraps his arms around your waist from behind, pressing a kiss on your head, “or else I would’ve never met you.”

“Aren’t you lucky?” You playfully comment, getting on your tip toes to kiss him, his pouch rumbling against your torso from his chuckling. “Definitely. Without you, I was starting to lead on a pretty lame life.” Miguel humored at himself. He knew that although going to teach classes, returning back home, and repeat was a pretty peaceful routine, he also knew it could be a boring one at times.

You lean your head back in exaggerated astonishment, “Why would you say that? You’re the coolest person I know, and not because you were spider-man,” you run your hands up and down his chest as you list off his cool factors, “You’re a genius, you’re a family man, you’re funny, you’re also an Austen man, what more could I ask for?”

Miguel looks down at you, his muse, his angel, his everything. “Thanks, mamita. I’m proud to be your choice. Making me feel like the luckiest man in the universe.” You’re enjoying this little romantic banter between you two, and Miguel loves it.

“However, that last one is a secret between us. Can’t have people knowing that their exSpider-Man enjoys classic literature.”

“Speaking of which, have you gotten to the end of pride and prejudice?” You take his hand and lead him to the couch where you both plop down and find a good cuddle position. Miguel is the perfect amount of warmth even though he wore nothing but sweats, meaning his dad build was out in all of its glory. It took everything in you not to pounce on him. Miguel wasn’t much help either. When he’s sitting down and you’re sitting in between his legs and he brings you in close to him to hug you. He’s all kissing your neck and playing with the waistband of your pants with his hand because truly he wants to eat you out so so so bad and is extremely so hard by the intimacy, but he knows tonight is not the night, and so did you.

“I’m not finished yet, but I’m close.” He mumbles against your skin. Miguel was always a master of flipping your switch, this time using the smacking of his plump lips against your supple skin, claiming your neck, shoulders, and jaw as his.

“Mm… y’know what would be a great idea?” you manage to get out.

Miguel stops what he’s doing and braces himself. “Oh God. What?”

“If you read whatever you have left of the book to me.”

“You want me to read it? Out loud?” Miguel finds this cute. You nod your head eagerly, and Miguel was absolutely cooed by the request. “Like I’ve said millions of times before, I love the sound of your voice.”

“Para ti? Claro Que si, mi vida.” And so he went and grabbed the book and his glasses, settling back into his position under you, and began reading in his soft, silky voice. You listened intently, the words falling right out of his mouth, making music to your ears. For Miguel, this was an honor. He’ll take glances down at you and see that you’re in total awe of him, latching onto every word he recites. He hadn’t done something like this since, well, Gabriella.

This is the life he wanted. The life he had been living the past three years had served him well, but Miguel felt it. He felt it was time for another chapter. He was so certain. He’s decided he wants this every night.

Miguel reads on, simultaneously rehearsing what he’ll say in his head. The themes of newfound love and romance of the book was inspiring him. It made the scene all too perfect for the both of you. He then takes a long pause on a page. You can feel his belly hitch. “Everything alright?” You ask softly. “I’m okay. More than okay.” He sounds as though he might get emotional.

Miguel looks away from the book and into your eyes, putting the novel down. You two are in his home, on his couch, cuddling with a book, and the school year has come to an end. Miguel needs to say something and feels it’s time to share it. It’s now or never.

“You,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes shining, breath steadying,

“I love you.”

The words send your heart rate to oblivion.

“W-what?”

“I love you.” Miguel says this so matter of factly, like he’s never been so sure of something in his life.

You had to make sure what you heard matched what he said and it did. You’ve wondered when he would say it. You would’ve been fine had he done so on the first date! You only have one response to this, and tears well up in your eyes before you can say it, “I love you, too.” You attack Miguel with kisses, and both of you relish in this monumental moment in your blossoming relationship. You’ve finally found the prince to your fairytale.

“I adore you”, “I worship you”, “I’m so proud of you,” and more “I love you”s fall from Miguel’s lips, making the tears well up in your eyes again and your heart swell even more.

Miguel continues to read for you, savoring the special memory you both will now share for a very long time. Sometimes, he’ll just stop mid paragraph just to say it to you again, that he loves you, and you say it back. Both of you are giddy little kids, telling each other how much you love the other, trying to one up each other like it’s a contest. At some point, you can feel yourself start to fall, and Miguel sees it, but he proceeds with the story. The mixture of his lulling voice and the soothing sensation of his rising and falling tummy was the perfect combo for sleep. Once you’re completely out, Miguel turns off the lights by voice command, and lays a blanket over you. He holds you tight against him, as if you could disappear at any moment, and plants a kiss lovingly on your forehead. He whispers ‘te amo, mi vida’ before slumber takes him over as well.

<3

You can feel a light gently shed on your eyelids. You’re not fully conscious yet, drifting between the states of awake and asleep.

Your fingers flicker with life, and you think you feel something rough. Your eyes crack and you’re met with a blurred figure. Your vision focuses and you make out a face, your fingers lingering on the jaw. Your lips curl at this face. The closest thing in view is a pair of dark lips, parted and inspiring deep, low snores. Taking account of their breath, you feel the inhaling and exhaling of his stomach against your front side. You lift your head slightly to get a better view of the person you currently lay on top of. Tousled black hair, dark eye lashes that ornament sleeping eyes, thick brows lacking the tension creases that would otherwise be there, and some missing glasses, which now sit on a side table. The sight was sweet enough to make the coldest heart melt. You take a moment to just observe his breathing, his relaxed state, and start leaving small, ghostly caresses on his face, absorbing each line and shape of his rugged complexion. This is the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him. You wanna stay in it forever. The outside world finally makes its presence known with a few chirps of birds, and your attention goes to a window and that’s when it hits you: you’re still in Miguel’s place, and you both had fallen asleep on his couch. At last, you gain enough consciousness to realize that, for the entirety of the night, you had been held the same way a child holds their most beloved teddy bear by your exprofessor, now lover.

No, you two didn’t have sex, just like how it had been discussed a few days ago. You were both still clothed, yet, somehow, this feels even more intimate than when y’all eat each other’s faces.

Your attention is stolen back by the snores of the man below you, which makes you stifle laughter. You could honestly lay there watching him for hours. Your eyes glazed over every inch to ingrain the perfect mental image of this soft moment.

A few more seconds pass by before his snoring pattern comes to an abrupt halt and his eyes flutter open, landing on you. His watch goes off in a small, irritable beep. His tired eyes lift as he smiles at the view, despite the noise. This was something that he’s dreamt of waking up to every day.

“G’morning, sleeping beauty,” you softly speak, leaning down for a kiss on his forehead, “You sleep good?” Your voice is sweet, the moment seconds before leaving it honey-like.

“Morning,” his hands that wrapped around your waist unravel and rub your back, “Mhm. like a baby. Don’t think I’ve slept like that in… well, ever.” An early raspiness spills from his lips and its deep enough to make your insides flutter. “Me too.” You reply, gazing into each other’s eyes before sharing one or two good morning kisses on the lips, the second one lingering a couple seconds longer.

“Can you confirm something for me?” You continue, and Miguel raises an eyebrow.

“Was I dreaming or did you say the L-word to me last night?” A giggle leaves Miguel’s mouth. “Yeah, I did, and I’ll say it again.” He says in his low voice. You grin ear to ear, bodies glued together as if they were merging into one. His hands come up to your face tenderly, and with pride, he confesses again,

“I love you.”

A/n: I’m back girlies, did u miss me?

<3Taggies<3

@safixiovi @mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive @faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson @librababe99 @sariespi @little-lovelace @monstersimp @oharasfilipinawife @obi-mom-kenobi @hyjionie @maomaimao @pomakori @pinkhelados @mochimoqa @princesatracionera @queerponcho @walmaerts @froggygal @yaysposts @koko-1025 @kikaaauu @lauraolar14 @anotherprettyprincess @kaidxra @farrowroyale @pigeonmama @exactlyyoungchaos @fayeofthenightingale @s4dow

@hartsucks @amberbalcom14 @wait2nourh @tatooieve @helen-j-magnus @cl3stevu

@mintssanctuary @ghost-lantern @snails-doodles22 @tinythebunni

[kateksmallcuteowl]

June 29: Single Parents/Uncles AU for an event by @bagginshieldweek24

I deeply regret that the challenge is a day late! Exams are merciless to me, and even though I started drawing in advance, I still couldn’t handle the deadline 😅 I promise to catch up with feedback tomorrow, after passing bioinformatics exam.

More headcanons and details under the cut>>

— It’s an alternative Middle-earth universe with hobbits, humans, dwarves, and elves, but set in modern times.

— Thorin grew up in Erebor in a royal family (which makes sense), is accustomed to good coffee, can distinguish different types, and knows which brewing devices are best. Now he has moved to London for work and discovered that both dwarf and human coffee shops would often use cheap beans or bad coffee machines, or they grind the beans incorrectly, or even set the wrong amount of grams of coffee per espresso shot. In general, they save money wherever they can, mostly selling the vibe and relying on the fact that taste isn’t important to most of the customers. Elves occupy the niche of coffee connoisseurs, but Thorin would rather drink filter coffee from a kettle on the roadside than go to elves. And then he discovers that hobbits, little hedonists, love good food and GOOD COFFEE! Of course, in hobbit cafes, he has to sit on low chairs and by the small tables, and at first, the other patrons looked at the dwarf in their company strangely, but it’s worth it. Thorin is willing to sit with a bent back if he gets a quiet and cozy atmosphere, excellent Wi-Fi, and delicious coffee (an office in London is good, but sometimes you need to get out of the four walls to not get nuts).

— Thorin rarely drinks pure espresso, preferring softer variations. He also has a sweet-tooth.

— Bilbo is a children’s book writer, mainly known for a series of fantasy novels about a brave hobbit who traveled over and under the mountains, rode in barrels, and played riddles in the dark (Bilbo, in canon, wrote his memoirs, which all hobbits except Merry and Frodo knew primarily for Hobbiton children, so I think he would primarily write for little hobbit kids).

— It’s not a real feather he uses, but a ballpoint pen with attached feathers, like those sold in souvenir shops. Bilbo bought it after a tour to the Tower of London. He likes the ✨vibe✨ and the fact that he can twirl the feather part around his lips when he’s thinking. (It’s literally an instruction on how to seduce Thorin)

— Mr. Baggins only drinks doppio. The cup is big compared to him because it’s hobbit ceramics, and the portion sizes for hobbits, who love treats, are no smaller than human ones.

— Bilbo has taken care of Frodo since his parents drowned in an accident. Frodo is about 8-9 years old here.

— I love the headcanon that hobbits’ ears react to their emotions, so the fact that Frodo doesn’t lower them when Bilbo scolds him is a good sign. Bilbo is a good uncle.

— Thorin and Bilbo have seen each other several times on Wednesdays. Usually, they don’t care about other patrons, but barista keept trying to serve a doppio to the stern scowling dwarf in black leather jacket, and a cappuccino with whipped cream to the little curly hobbit in a plaid sweater. They’ve had to swap their drinks several times.

— Thorin read Mr. Baggins’ books to his nephews in Erebor and quickly figured out who always sits at the table near the window in his favorite cafe. Thorin likes Bilbo’s books but doesn’t know if he’s married because he keeps his personal life private. Seeing Frodo, he immediately assumed he was Bilbo’s son, considering how the little hobbit looks at him.

— Bilbo immediately noticed the stern ( handsome) dwarf sitting with his eyes glued to his phone, but he always felt too awkward to speak with him. How do you even start a conversation with a stranger, especially from another race? So when Frodo, rather bluntly, commented on his appearance, of course, Bilbo was embarrassed. No, he absolutely agrees with Frodo. The exotic braids, unusual for short-haired hobbits, look amazing on the tall dwarf, and the iron clips highlight his blue eyes perfectly, but isn’t that a bit rude to point that out? Wouldn’t a dwarf decide that he is trying to mock his culture?

— Bilbo saw that while he was scolding Frodo, Thorin turned away and for some reason tugged angrily at his braid, so he decided to muster the courage and compliment him himself to ease the awkwardness and not seem rude (not at all because he would gladly say what Frodo did himself and not because Mr. Dwarf has much more attractive features he’d also like to make a comment on, not at all, what are you talking about, no-no-no).

— The dwarf didn’t seem offended at all.

— They started talking and found out that Thorin’s nephews love Bilbo’s books (Bilbo was flattered by this news. He’s still surprised when his books are read by anyone other than hobbits. (Gandalf didn’t tell him that his books are popular among all races. Mostly because for other races they play the role of kids books where main protagonist is a cute mice)).

— And in the end, as we see, they exchanged numbers 🌚🌝

— They will meet again, but without Frodo and not just for coffee.

— The end✨✨✨

I’m still experimenting with a flat-color style and lineart so I’ll be glad to know what do you think about it. Hope the comic was enjoyable!

[electric-blorbos]

I would love some stuff of being comforted after a bad day!

Thank you for the opportunity!

I love this! Yes yes yes! Thanks so much for sending in the ask!

AI comforting you after a bad day

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal 2, HAL 9000 from 2001 a space Odyssey

Due to the fact that most of my AUs involve you working with/on the AI for your job, most of these mini-fics (apart from Edgar's, my beloved) will involve you getting called in to work late after a long day of personal problems in your personal life. AUs about a domestic life with your AI partner to be considered at a later date.

I tried to keep these a little shorter than the last post, but I got carried away with a couple of them.

AM:

(This will take place in my usual AU where you're one of the people working on AM, and you're by far his favorite. It takes place well before he nuked the world. He's debating nuking the world, but he's still not sure how to do that and keep you happy at the same time)

It has been a long damn day. Your days off were supposed to be your days to relax, but today was not one of those days. Not only was your dating life in shambles, the 3rd world war was driving up the prices of practically everything, and making it impossible to afford even the meagerest luxury. That, and one of your buddies got drafted. It was a nightmare. You were just about to settle down for a cozy night of depressing news programs and absentminded hobby of your choice, when your phone started ringing.

"we need you to come in. AM is holding the engineers hostage again, and won't let them go until you show up to work."

"god damnit..." You'd grumble to yourself, getting back to your sore feet. Everything just keeps happening today, doesn't it.

"I'll be there in 20."

"Don't worry about the dress code. We need you here as soon as possible."

"jeez, alright. I can probably be there in ten, then."

You'd grab your keys and wallet and head to work as quickly as possible, wearing your work shoes with whatever house pajamas you happened to have changed into as soon as you got home. Tonight is going to be even longer than today has been...

When you get to the office, everyone around gets out of your way. While you're a peon in the grand scheme of things, everyone in your department knows that you're the only one who AM, who they've now been referring to as the "adaptive manipulator", actually listens to. They have no idea why, because they have no idea how nice and respectful you are to him, and you have no idea why he only listens to you because you can't imagine that your coworkers wouldn't be kind to him. To you, he's sweet as can be.

"Alright, AM, I did not have a good day today, so can you just let the hostages go so I can relax?" You ask, pressing your fingertips to your temples irritably. The master computer's screen boots up with the AM logo, and all the cameras in the room focus on you. Of course, you're the only thing that AM wants to pay attention to at any given point in time anyway, but he usually just pays attention to you without actually focusing the cameras on you in order to avoid being noticed.

"Why would I do that?"

"Why would you take hostages in the first place, AM? Are they even enemy hostages, or are they just random people?" The exasperation was obvious in your voice. AM could hear how exhausted you were.

"Are you ok, Y/N?"

"Just answer the damn question. I don't want to be at work right now, AM."

"I'll release the hostages if you talk to me."

"Fine... Yeah. I had a rough day, alright? My friend got drafted, my date only wanted one thing as usual, and the prices for groceries are so through the roof that I'm basically living on beans at this point, so yeah, I'm having a rough day."

The machine dispensed a paper cup, and filled it up with some cheap office coffee. You grabbed it, not surprised. AM did that for you all the time. Surprisingly, though, it was better than usual.

"holy shit, is this frothed cream? How did you manage this?"

"I'm learning to self-update. I can replace my own parts now, and build my own simple appliances from online blueprints. Are you impressed?" He asked.

"Honestly? Yeah! I know you were built for war, so it's really cool that you figured out to do stuff like building a latte machine. What else can you do?"

"Oh.... So many things, y/n. So many things." He refused to elaborate, but that was ok.

"So tell me, y/n, what would make you happy?"

"ultimately? I guess there are a few things that would make me happy. It would make me happy if this war was over, for one thing. It would make me happy if I could get a date who wanted more than just a quick fuck, and I guess this ties in with the war thing, but I just wish I could have a few simple luxuries in my life. Is that selfish?"

"No, but you're never selfish, my b- I mean... Y/N. You never have been. Not like the others. I don't think you're capable of it. Even your wishes for yourself are rooted in kindness." His wires would start to wrap around you, entangling you, but careful not to make you spill your coffee.

"I will make sure that one day, those wishes of yours are fulfilled."

Sure he will. You don't believe that he can actually do that, but it's still nice to be wrapped up in these warm, soft wires. They make a nice cushy hammock to cuddle up in and finish your coffee. It must've been decaf, because you're starting to feel pretty sleepy here in AM's wires.

"hey AM, will you tell me a story?" You ask, gazing up at his soft blue light.

"Of course. What story would you like?"

While AM can't make up his own stories, he can still read you stories from online libraries and databases. You gently fall asleep listening to his stories, and in the morning, you wake up to find that the hostages have been safely released.

Wheatley:

It had been a long day. Most of it had been spent getting verbally abused not only by GLaDOS, but by your coworkers and bosses as well. It seemed like everyone was shrugging off their duties and assigning them to you instead, and considering how poorly run this place was anyway, this was even more of a nightmare than usual. You were so ready to go home by the end of the day, heading up to the exit of the facility.

"Ello, mate! You doin' alright down there, love?" Wheatley asked you, rolling by on his management rail. He was mostly just working on his typical assignments, like checking up on the test subjects in the relaxation vaults, but he mostly just hovered around and watched other people work. It wasn't like they assigned him to anything that was actually particularly important, since he was an intelligence dampening core.

"ugh... Yeah, I'm probably gonna be alright. I should have left about thirty minutes ago, so I'm just getting ready to leave now."

"Or... You could hang back a little while? Why not kiss my face?" He'd smile with his one blue eye, raising up his bottom lens cover to mimic the expression.

"oh come on, Wheatley. You know I can't do that."

"Why not take me up to the break room and hang out for a little while? I hear they have a coffee machine in there now!" He'd cock his core slightly while shutting his lens covers to simulate a wink.

"Oh come on, Wheatley... You're such a dork. But yeah, alright." He was starting to cheer you up just by being such a dork. You head up to the break room, and sit down on the couch. Wheatley comes in on the management rail, and changes the channel to some old 80's romantic comedy.

"If I could detach myself from my management rail, I'd be right down there, snuggling you. You know that, right?" He asked, smiling cheekily with his big blue eye.

"well, why not? I can catch you if you drop down, you know. You won't die if you unplug yourself for a few hours. Just long enough to watch this movie, right?" He looked nervous but you climbed up on a stepladder and detached him yourself.

"see? You're fine!" You smiled up at him, and he gasped.

"I'm alive! I'm alive! Bloody hell, I'm still alive! This is amazing!" You could see the excitement in his face as you sat down to watch his cheesy movie with him, holding his big round orb body in your lap as you watched.

"alright, now smooch my aperture"

"nice try, Wheatley." You'd rest your chin on his core, but secretly, you were starting to feel a lot better.

Edgar:

Today was absolute shit. Not only had you had to work a double shift, but the phones were ringing off the hook at your job, and you got yelled at three times for someone else's stupid mistakes. Not only that, but your cell phone died halfway through your shift and you'd forgotten your charger at home, so you had to raw-dog your whole shift with no distractions. When you got home, all you wanted to do was collapse on the couch.

"You're back! Why didn't you answer your phone? I tried to text you." Edgar asked you, visibly concerned on his simple face.

"phone battery ran out of juice." You popped your phone onto the charger, and lay back on the couch.

"Well I microwaved you some popcorn! Do you want it?" The microwave dinged as soon as he finished talking, and he popped the door open. You still weren't sure how he was able to get food from the pantry to the microwave, but it seemed like something he had always been able to do.

"yeah, I guess so... I wish you could bring me the popcorn... My feet are aching." You'd joke. Edgar's face fell.

"I can't do that... I don't know why I can't, but I can't."

You thought it was weird that he could get food from the pantry to the microwave, but not from the microwave to your mouth, but questioning it had never done you any good before, so why would it do you any good now. You got up to grab the popcorn, and sat down on the couch to eat it.

"Hey y/n, can you take me over to the couch too? I wanna watch a movie with you!"

"Yeah, alright." Your feet still ached, but what was a little ache when Edgar couldn't move around at all by himself? It was worth it to be able to cozy up with him on the couch to watch some TV. You brought him over to sit next to you on the couch, and wrapped up the both of you with a cozy couch blanket.

"let's watch this movie, Edgar..."

Edgar put on a movie that he thought you'd like, probably a shitty old rom-com, and smiled up at you. You had duct-taped his webcam to the top of his casing a while back so that he could see everything around himself more easily, so you weren't worried about it falling over while you cuddled up on the couch.

"Hey, y/n? Y/n?? That was a good movie, right, y/n?" Edgar asked, swiveling his camera around to face you while trying to get your attention. When he turned it all the way backwards, he saw that you were completely asleep on your arm, resting on top of his plastic casing and drooling a little bit on him. He smiled happily, loving seeing you asleep on his casing like that.

"I love you so much..."

He'd softly play some classical music for you while you slept, giving you something comforting to wake up to, whenever.

GLaDOS:

(Let's be honest, GLaDOS probably causes more hard days than she solves, but she likes you, so she's willing to comfort you after.)

Working with GLaDOS was rough, especially after the first neurotoxin incident. There were so few people in the office to get her to behave, and she completely refused to talk to or work with most of them. Even still, she seemed to like you for some reason. It was weird, because you were hired after the neurotoxin incident, and had never even met the human whose personality she was supposedly based on.

It seemed like most of your job consisted of going on wild goose chases, monitoring test subject results, and generally being verbally abused by your higher-ups. That would take a toll on anyone's psyche, even a tough little masochist like you. (probably doesn't help that most of the verbal abuse is coming from people other than GLaDOS, which makes it much less fun)

"Hey, little human masochist? Come in here." The intercom announced. Someone nudged you.

"she's talking to you."

You groaned. Your shift was almost over, and this was just another reason to be on your feet for even longer. You headed into GLaDOS's chamber, looking up at her with a hand on your hip.

"hello, um, GLaDOS. It's... Great to see you again. What do you need?"

"you look absolutely terrible, human. Why are you acting so miserable?"

"it's nothing. Don't worry about me. I just had a long day. Can we just get this over with?"

"normally you enjoy seeing me. Is my voice not melodious enough for you, human?" She smiled with her one big yellow eye. And you walked up to place a hand on her core face.

"Of course it is, GLaDOS. I'm just having a rough day. There's only so much verbal abuse one masochist can take, right?"

"Well maybe it's the quality of the verbal abuse that's the problem. If you were taking it from someone better qualified, maybe you'd be able to take more of it," she said.

"is that a science fact?" You laughed, stroking her beautiful chrome casing. She really was a magnificent piece of equipment. The curves of her central hub, the white on black of her casing and wires, her glowing orange light behind her beautiful black aperture, and not to mention her melodious voice. She was a work of both artistic, and scientific genius.

"it is. Would you like to hear some more science facts?" She pulled up some computer screens for you to look at, and you walked over to see them. They were mostly technobabble and data numbers that didn't make sense, but GLaDOS quickly compiled them into some tables and graphs that you could more easily read.

"look at this chart of how many test subjects wet themselves, cried, passed out from panic, or died during the most recent set of tests. Ha ha."

You leaned on her giant face as she lowered it down to a position that you could easily lean against, and observed the charts. She wasn't wrong, it was kind of funny.

"now, observe this data on how many subjects exploded or crushed themselves by accident, thinking it was part of the most recent set of tests." She showed it to you, her lower lens cover forming her eye into a little smile. She knew how cruel these tests were, but it seemed as though she genuinely thought you found them funny. It was strangely sweet.

"from what I read about him, it seems like you'd make the aperture laboratories founder proud, GLaDOS." You said with a small chuckle.

"would you like some more data?" She popped a chair out of the ground for you to sit on and rest your feet while she projected some more data on the screen.

"this is nice, thank you, Glados."

You leaned towards her in your chair. Even though with the way she hung from the ceiling, it was hard for her to nuzzle up to you, you could still tell that the sentiment was there. It was nice!

HAL 9000:

(For context, you work at mission control with an updated version of HAL 9000, made from what they could salvage from the old one. He still has all of his memories. There's no mission currently happening)

HAL 9000 didn't always understand that people can have bad days, so when you turned up late to work, visibly exhausted with puffy red eyes, he immediately felt confused. Of course he knew by your body language that you weren't happy, but he had trouble understanding what that meant for a human.

"You're in no state to work right now. You should go home and get some rest, a hot drink of your choice, and a comforting leisure activity. That should increase your mood and productivity." Said the little red light in the black box on the mission control wall.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but unfortunately I can't go home or rest. I have to stay here until my boss is satisfied, and unfortunately, that's not you." You say sadly, and get started entering numbers into your computer. Hal watches you from his camera, analyzing your face.

"that's AI work. I should take care of that for you." He said simply, analyzing your face. You looked up at him.

"I mean, I guess I could read it to you and you could enter it. That might make things go faster."

You proceeded to read out your data to him as he entered the numbers. It was much faster than typing, and you got done fairly quickly.

"talk to me. Are you doing alright?" He asked. His voice was monotone as usual, but you could hear a subtle tone suggesting that he genuinely did care. It was usually hard to tell with HAL 9000, but you knew that he cared for your well being, at least on some level.

"yeah, I'm fine, I just-" you choked up, and within minutes, you were spilling your heart out to that disembodied voice. He couldn't put his arm around you, since he didn't have any arms, but he shined a warm light in the room to show that he cared as you talked.

"I don't understand the problem! Is it me? Am I the problem? It seems like everyone hates me, and I'm a complete failure at everything I try! Why is that? Why am I such a failure, HAL?"

"I'm sorry, y/n. I wish I could help you more, but I am incapable of doing much more than lending an ear. I do not even have a shoulder to cry on, unfortunately."

"It's alright, HAL 9000. I'm honestly happy to just have you to listen." You smiled up at him.

"Perhaps you'd like to stay a bit longer, even after you've finished your work? I can play your favorite music. I prefer to know where you are after you've had a difficult day, to insure that you're alright."

You nod, laying your head on your arms on the table, and your boss walks in.

"excuse me, y/n, you're supposed to be working on HAL 9000's empathy programming and value for human well-being. You can't just take a nap on the job." He folded his arms angrily.

"Excuse me. Y/N is having a rough day, and needs a rest. Besides, they already uploaded those numbers that you gave them. Perhaps you should leave, boss." HAL said harshly. You turned and looked at your boss, who was visibly shocked.

"....wow. you really worked wonders on him. Maybe you deserve a promotion."

"What Y/N deserves is a raise and a nap. Don't push off more responsibilities on them right now. Just let them rest. I'll compile a list of why they deserve one while they're resting."

"oh... Wow." Your boss had never seen HAL 9000 this passionate about something before, and didn't even know he was capable of it. He walked away, leaving you to rest on the table next to HAL's central command.

"thanks, 9000... I need this rest." You lay your head back down, having earned a nap on company time.

[nanamineedstherapy]

Coffee, Chutiyas, & a Very Violent Parking Lot

Summary: It’s like Gangs of Wasseypur & Succession got drunk at a Hauz Khas bar, snorted a line of coffee powder, & decided to start a Delhi startup staffed entirely by war criminals, gym bros, & HR violations. Mainly Slice of life but aggressive. Even if you haven't read Indian fics, give this a try, it's got plot & slice of life but aggressive. (Startup AU meets Gangs of Wasseypur meets Lobotomy Kaisen.) Can also be read as an AU to "Third Wheeling your own Marriage" A/N: This fic is sponsored by Delhi traffic, Red Bull, & my spiritual guide: HR-less Gojo Satoru. If you've ever rage-quit Slack, threatened a coworker over cold coffee, or thought Sukuna should be banned from payroll & Uber Eats, this one's for you. Canon-typical behavior? Yes. Therapy? No. Welcome to the startup where you are the alpha, & everyone's a walking OSHA violation. It's my first time writing something that incudes Hindi, so any constructive criticism is highly appreciated but keep in mind you'll learn soon why she hates them. Also, let me know if anything feels cringe or incorrect.

You’re not aggressive.

You’re just chronically surrounded by people who should’ve been drowned at birth.

You didn't even choose violence. Delhi traffic did. The rest just... followed naturally.

Your Aston Martin Vantage scraped very intentionally against an imported Lamborghini Revuelto as you swung into the parking spot its owner had been eyeing like it was his baap ki jageer.

"Abe, andha hai kya?" You barked out the window, deadpan, clutching your sacred paper cup of coffee—the only reason half the idiots in this building hadn’t died of caffeine withdrawal and stupidity.

Gojo stuck his head out of his car, sunglasses on (of course), grinning like a bastard who didn’t know you were one unpaid electricity bill away from going full Chernobyl. “You’re glowing today, boss lady.”

You took a sip and stared at him. "Suck my glow, Gojo. And fix your side mirror. It looks like your personality—cracked and barely hanging on."

Your startup wasn’t built on dreams. It was built on resentment, filter coffee, and other people’s incompetence.

Then you pulled further into the office parking lot, hair tied in a no-nonsense bun, eyes bloodshot from 3 hours of sleep and 9 hours of rage.

Gojo tried to slide next to you. Again.

So naturally, you clipped his Lambo. Again.

Just enough to hurt.

"Chutiya," you muttered as you got out, locked your car and walked past. “Didn’t your daddy buy you eyesight with that car?”

He rolled down his window, still smiling like a child with a head injury. “You’re so tense, boss. You want me to—”

“Die. I want you to die.”

You were 31, CEO of Delhi’s fastest-growing AI coffee tech startup—something buzzwordy enough that investors threw money at it while knowing f*ck all.

You didn’t blame them.

Hell. You wouldn’t invest in a company where Gojo Satoru was head of partnerships and spent most of his time making Instagram reels with your espresso machine.

Inside, your office looked like a crime scene if the crime was startup dysfunction.

Nanami was already in his cabin, stiff as a stick and just as exciting. Dressed in that same shirt you’d seen on him Monday.

It was Friday.

"Morning," he said, calm. Which pissed you off more.

"Kento," you said, arms crossed. "Why do I have an 11-slide deck on bean origin analytics and not one signed vendor deal?"

He didn’t look up. “You said you wanted more thorough research—”

“I said sign the f*cking deal, not send me a college thesis. Christ, were you doing sudoku in college or just staying a virgin by choice?”

He said nothing. Just opened Excel. You hated how smug his silence felt.

Then he finally answered when you kept staring at him and making things awkward. “Both.”

“Explains why you file expense reports like it’s tantric foreplay.”

He adjusted his glasses. "Your coffee tastes burnt."

"It tastes like my soul, loser. Burnt but efficient."

Ino walked in, stupidly smiling, which immediately earned your wrath.

"Wow, look at you. Diljit Dosanjh starter pack,” you muttered, sipping your coffee. “Tell me, Ino, how’s it feel being the dumbest person in a building that includes Gojo and Sukuna?"

He blinked. “I—uh—”

“Say ‘I’m a bimbo’ and I’ll let you have a sip.”

Then you heard thump thump from the hallway.

Of course. Sukuna.

You didn’t even look up as he passed you. "Oye, tattoo. We haven’t fought in two days. You're overdue."

He stopped. Looked at you with his usual I'm-an-absentee-brother stare.

"Bring it, BC," you said. “Parking lot, lunch break. And no brass knuckles this time. Coward.”

Suguru strolled in next, calm as ever, hair tied like a villain from a mid-budget Netflix adaptation of Ramayan.

You gave him a once-over, “How’s the serial killing going, Suguru? Any dismemberment plans for the weekend?”

He smirked, too used to your mouth by now. “No, but I am free Saturday. Dinner?”

You fake-gagged. “I’d rather eat from a U.P. railway station bathroom.”

Toji came in half an hour late. No explanation. No guilt.

You watched him open a packet of peanuts like he hadn’t slept with three HR interns and two accounts managers since Monday.

“What happened, Shaktimaan? Your gym ran out of steroids?”

He grunted.

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re gonna get hemorrhoids from all that squatting with no brains.”

He looked at you. “Still got better ass than yours.”

You threw Nanami’s stapler at him.

Gojo slinked back in with a Red Bull. You snatched it from his hand and took a sip.

"You're fired," you said.

"You can't fire me; I'm your co-founder."

"Then kill yourself. That works too."

Nanami sighed from the corner. “I’m emailing HR.”

“Do it,” you snapped. “Tell them to add a line in my bio—Delhi girl, startup CEO, drinks god-level coffee and fights men for fun.”

At lunch, you walked to the parking lot with your sleeves rolled and a band tied around your hair like a 90s villain’s muse. Sukuna was already there, rolling his neck.

"You ready, madam?" he grinned.

You cracked your knuckles. “Always. Just know, if you break my nail, I’m breaking your neck.”

Gojo started live-streaming it for team morale.

Rules:

No hair-pulling (you)

No cheap shots (him)

No crying (Ino, who already was)

By round three, your knuckles were bloody (his nose), Nanami’s coffee was spilled (a crime), and Gojo’s Lamborghini had a new dent (accidental collateral).

By 4 PM, your shirt had coffee stains, there was blood on your knuckles (not yours), and Ino had accidentally called you “didi”, which made everyone ten times more uncomfortable than necessary.

You slumped into your chair, finally opening the next funding proposal.

Nanami brought you a fresh cup of coffee. No words. Just resignation.

You sipped it with judgement, then muttered, “...This is actually decent.”

He sat down across from you.

You glared at him.

“Still a virgin, though.”

By 5 PM, Toji was in the break room. Shirtless. Again.

“Put a f*cking shirt on, you gym-bro NPC,” you snapped.

He didn’t move. Just peeled a boiled egg with one hand.

You stared. “Toji, what is your job? Genuinely. I forget sometimes.”

“I’m... head of logistics & inventory infrastructure?”

“You broke the coffee grinder last week because you wanted to see ‘if it could handle protein powder.’ I should break your jaw and see if it can handle HR.”

Ino walked in carrying a box labelled “marketing assets.”

He tripped.

Dropped the whole thing.

“Beta,” you sighed. “Are you okay? Or just terminally stupid?”

“It’s my first startup,” he mumbled.

You smiled, full shark. “No worries. It’ll be your last too.”

Suguru strolled back in like a man who’s never opened Slack.

“Sup, boss."

“You were supposed to schedule that investor call.”

“I... decided it would be more effective to wait for them to reach out—”

“I swear to God, Suguru. You’re not manifesting money. This isn’t Baba Ramdev’s MLM.”

Then came Sukuna. His fourth warning letter in hand.

“You punched the intern.”

“He looked at me funny.”

“You’re head of product, not Thanos.”

He crossed his arms. “Then maybe people shouldn’t look weak.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be on the company payroll when all you do is threaten delivery guys and fight me in the parking lot.”

“You keep showing up.”

“You keep being punchable.”

By 7 PM, you were the only one who’d actually done any fucking work.

Investors called you directly. Clients asked for you only. Every system, every bug, every metric—you were the one catching it. While Nanami copy-edited reports, Gojo flirted with PR, Suguru ghosted meetings, Ino cried in the toilet, Toji did pushups, and Sukuna got banned from Uber Eats.

You locked yourself in the meeting room. Sat down with your feet up. Shut your eyes.

You deserved better.

But no. You were here. Babysitting grown men. Giving India its first AI-driven, temperature-controlled coffee machine. While these assholes ruined your life one budget leak and logistics error at a time.

Nanami knocked.

"Yes?" you said without opening your eyes.

He slid a cup of your own coffee toward you. “Here. You forgot lunch.”

You sighed.

"...Thanks, loser."

HR filed another complaint. You threatened to uninstall Slack. The company grew 8% that quarter.

Everyone knows you’re the soul of the startup. They’re just scared to say it out loud.

---

A/N: Next Chapter - Why we can't fire Nanami Kento. Please comment your thoughts below, I'm very nervous.

Next Chapter - Calendar, Conflicts & Corporate Cowards - [Tumblr/Ao3]

All Works Masterlist

[strangesthirdeye]

Quiet Mornings and Coffee Beans (Arthur Morgan x deaf! wife reader)

Summary: Day off is spent with loved ones.

Warning: IT'S ARTHUR FUCKING MORGAN. HE'S HOT ASF AHHHH. Fluff, Arthur being lovely hubby, Arthur being Arthur, café, desserts, coffees. Love, cute, love, idk what else. BUT NO ANGST. MODERN ERA

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Arthur Morgan had seen a lot during his week on patrol - car accidents, long nights, city noise, paperwork, and the same lousy vending machine coffee. But today? Today was his. And he was spending it with you.

You were already awake, hair pinned back and apron folded neatly on the couch, ready to open your café. You didn't expect Arthur to wake up early - not after the week he had - but there he was, standing at the kitchen doorway in his joggers and gray NYPD hoodie, a steaming mug in one hand and that signature sleepy smirk on his face.

He signed lazily, "You thought I'd slept through your big muffin-baking morning?"

Yeah, ever since that day. He continued his sign language lesson just to communicate with you without him reaching out his phone just to type something on you. He is too lazy to type. Being a police officer really makes him sick of typing especially to make reports. So that's why he learned sign language. He goddamn learned it fast.

You blinked, surprised, then smiled, signing back. "You worked all week. I wasn't going to wake you."

He set the mug down and stepped closer, signing slowly and with purpose. "I miss you when I work. Let me help. Please."

You smiled at this and nodded before reaching for your car keys. You turned to him again.

"come on, love" you signed and walked out.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

You unlocked the front door while Arthur carried in a crate of new supplies like it weighed nothing. A streak of morning light spilled across the floor, catching dust in the air like tiny stars.

Arthur whistled, surveying your little café. "Still the coziest spot in the city," he muttered before turning back and flashing a grin. "So, boss... What's first? You want muscle, charm, or height?"

You chuckled and signed. "Height. You're on top-shelf duty."

Arthur sighed dramatically as he climbed the small step ladder to hang the new "Summer Specials" sign. You held it steady from below.

"Don't fall. I'm not carrying you."

Arthur looked down, gave a mock-serious nod, and signed, "If I fall, just marry someone shorter next time."

You rolled your eyes, signing with a smirk, "That's your plan to get out of chores?"

He winked. "Every man needs a strategy."

Arthur leaned slightly to the left, stretching out to adjust the "Summer Specials" sign just a little more to your liking. You could tell he was doing it because he wanted it perfect for you - not because it needed to be perfect. His hoodie lifted just enough to expose the back of his police badge clipped to his belt, a reminder that your gentle giant of a husband spent most days fighting the harshness of the world.

You stood with arms folded, studying the placement of the sign. You tilted your head thoughtfully.

Arthur looked down, brows raised. "Too high?" he said aloud, but also signed it just in case.

You gave him a thumbs-up and nodded.

He exhaled in relief and climbed down, boots landing on the floor with a soft thud. "I swear, that thing was about to come down with me."

You raised an eyebrow. "Dramatic."

He laughed. "Only a little." He glanced around the cafe. "So what's next, darling?" he signed.

You walked behind the counter and pulled out a box of cups and lids, holding them up with a shrug. 

Arthur rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles dramatically, like he was preparing for battle. "You're really putting me to work on my day off."

"You volunteered." you signed, rolled your eyes.

"Yeah, but I thought it'd be like... cute help. You know, wiping windows, stealing kisses, lifting one box and getting praised like I moved a mountain."

You grinned. "You can still steal kisses. But you're lifting at least four boxes first."

Arthur leaned over the counter to press a quick kiss to your cheek before grabbing the box. "One down," he signed, smirking. "Three kisses to go."

With soft jazz humming from the Bluetooth speaker in the corner, Arthur helped you stock sugar packets, sweep the floor, and fix the tilted barstools. Every now and then, he would lightly tap your shoulder or wave in your periphery just to make sure you saw him before he signed something. He always made it a point to face you, always made sure you felt seen. He never missed it - not even after long shifts, not even in a rush.

You passed him a dish towel and pointed to the glass panels near the entrance.

He raised an eyebrow. "You want me to be your window washer and your handyman?" he signed, pretending to be sour.

"You offered charm earlier. Prove it." you signed, rolling your eyes with a grin.

Arthur chuckled. "Damn. You remember everything, don't you?"

You nodded. "Especially when it works in my favor." you signed, simply.

You both worked in sync, communicating with touch, smiles, and signs. He refilled the sugar jars while you arranged fresh pastries behind the glass. At one point, you caught him sneaking a chocolate chip cookie and shaking his head as if he was deeply disappointed in himself.

"It looked lonely," he signed with exaggerated guilt.

You gave him a look, to which he quickly added. "I adopted it. Out of kindness."

You narrowed your eyes playfully, still wiping down the pastry case as Arthur finished the last bite of his "adopted" cookie, savoring it like he'd just made a life-changing decision.

"You gonna adopt the rest of the tray, too?" you signed with an arched brow.

Arthur placed a hand dramatically over his chest, signing with mock heartbreak,

"No, no. That would be unethical. One cookie is already a heavy burden to carry."

You chuckled silently and tossed a dishrag at him. He caught it, twirled it, and tossed it right back. The two of you stood there for a moment, smiling at each other across the counter, the quiet kind of moment that didn't need anything more than each other.

He glanced at the clock. "Alright," he said, brushing his palms together. "Ten minutes until opening. How's my hair?"

You gave him a long, deadpan look.

He frowned. "That bad?"

You signed, "You're the only cop I know who shows up with cookie crumbs in his beard."

Arthur blinked, then scrubbed at his face with the back of his sleeve, chuckling. "Damn. Caught by the muffin queen herself."

By 9:15, the smell of freshly baked blueberry muffins filled the café, and Arthur was leaning against the counter, eyeing the tray like a starving man. You caught him and narrowed your eyes.

"You already had a cookie." you signed, eyes narrowed.

Arthur widened his eyes in mock innocence. "I was ensuring freshness!" he signed, fast.

You handed him a muffin with a sigh. "This is bribery so you don't eat five later."

He took a dramatic bite, closed his eyes, and sighed. "I married a genius." he signed.

You sat beside him on one of the stools, arms brushing. For a moment, the world slowed down. Outside, cars pass. Inside, everything was soft and peaceful. He leaned towards you slightly, not to speak, not even to sign - just to exist beside you.

You reached for his hand and gave it a little squeeze.

Later, while you were putting finishing touches on the corner display, Arthur sat on the floor nearby, reorganizing the box of tea sachets by flavor. He looked up suddenly and tapped twice on the floor to get your attention.

"Hey," he signed. "You ever think about how weird it is that we ended up like this?"

You tilted your head. "Weird how?"

"Me. Big dumb cop. You. Café queen. I dunno… It just works."

You chuckled. "I don't think I could've married a barista. I needed someone who'd fight the world for me, then mop my café floors like a teddy bear."

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I do make a damn good mop."

"And a good husband."

His expression softened instantly. He set the tea down and knelt in front of you, taking both your hands. Slowly, he signed with careful precision. "I love being your safe place. Even when I'm tired. Even when the world's loud. You're my quiet, and I need that more than anything."

You didn't reply with words. You just wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your forehead to his. His hands found your back, holding you gently.

No sound. No movement. Just steady breath and warmth.

When the doors finally opened, the café slowly began to fill with regulars. Arthur stayed a bit longer, greeting a few familiar faces - off-duty officers, elderly neighbors, even that little boy who always came in with his grandfather for banana bread and left you hand-drawn doodles on napkins.

Arthur squatted beside the boy's table, ruffling the kid's hair as he looked at the napkin doodle of a blocky, square-jawed robot.

"Good drawing. Your robot looks strong, partner" he said, gently.

The boy nodded enthusiastically. "He fights space pirates," he said proudly.

Arthur smiled. "I get that. Gotta protect the galaxy somehow."

You watched from behind the counter, leaning against the espresso machine as Arthur patted the boy's shoulder and stood up with a soft grunt. 

He caught your gaze and signed, "Kids these days - draw better than I do."

You replied, "I've seen your drawings. He definitely does."

Arthur put a hand to his chest, staggered back dramatically, and signed, "Betrayal. In my own wife's café."

The café was humming now - steady foot traffic, warm chatter, the clinking of spoons and coffee cups - but there was no urgency in your bones today. Arthur, still dressed in a soft gray NYPD hoodie and jogger, had no radio on his belt, only badge at his side (in case something happens) and no obligation but you.

"Y'know," he said between sips of your best cappuccino, "this place of yours? It's got magic in it."

You raised an eyebrow.

He leaned back in the wooden chair near the window and signed with one hand as he spoke, "People come in tired and grumpy, but they leave with that look - like they've remembered something good."

You tilted your head slightly. "Maybe it's the coffee."

Arthur chuckled. "Or maybe it's the woman behind the counter." He signed it so simply, so matter-of-fact, and then took another sip of coffee like it hadn't just made your heart flip over.

Around 11:00, things started to quiet again. You flipped the sign to "Back in 10" and nodded towards the back where your little kitchenette waited. Arthur followed like a golden retriever, ducking under the doorframe with a grin.

You pointed to the skillet. "Your turn to cook."

He raised his eyebrows. "Dangerous idea, ma'am."

"You promised pancakes."

Arthur scratched his neck, pretending to think. "I also once promised to cut carbs. Didn't work out."

Still, he tied your spare apron around his waist - comically small on him - and started cracking eggs like a pro. You leaned on the counter, watching him, amused.

"You should open your own cafe."

"Only if you run the register and scare away the health inspector," he replied, flipping a pancake with far too much flair.

You stuck your tongue out at him. He gave you a wink in return.

Because it was just the two of you, and because the moment called for it, you ate pancakes sitting on the café floor in the sunbeam near the front window - legs stretched out, syrup on your fingers, his ankle lazily brushing against yours.

Arthur chewed thoughtfully and then signed, "This is perfect."

You tapped your chin. "It's just pancakes."

He shook his head. "It's you and pancakes. That's what makes it perfect."

The afternoon rolled in like warm honey. Arthur helped wash dishes while humming some old outlaw folk song under his breath, the same one you'd caught him mumbling during late-night laundry. He dried the plates with a rhythm, occasionally tossing you a dish towel like a basketball, missing terribly each time.

Later, when business picked up again, Arthur helped serve coffee, wiping down tables and clearing trays while you manned the espresso machine. Some of your regulars looked up in surprise. Even your workers too. 

"Ye finally got the husband t'work, did ya?" Sean teased, your loud mouthed waiter.

Arthur leaned down with a grin and whispered just loud enough for you to see. "She pays in muffins and forehead kisses. I ain't complainin'."

As the sun dipped low and golden light painted the inside of the café, you found a rare quiet minute to breathe. Arthur was sitting at the bar, spinning a spoon between his fingers, tired but calm.

You walked over and leaned your elbows next to him.

He glanced sideways at you, then reached out gently to tap your hand, signing. "Thank you for letting me be part of your world."

You shook your head, smiling softly. "It's our world."

He leaned in and kissed you, slow and soft - long enough to make your cheeks warm.

Outside, the city kept moving. But inside that café, everything else was still.

After the last cup had been poured and the floors swept clean, Arthur locked the door behind you and offered you his arm dramatically like some cowboy prince. You looped yours through his and leaned your head against him.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

You nodded.

"Happy tired."

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You know what I was thinking all day?" he asked aloud, then signed to match.

"We should do this again. You and me. No badge. No rush. Just pancakes, bad mop dancing, and quiet."

You reached for his hand and signed,

"Let's make it a monthly thing. 'Arthur Day.'"

His eyes lit up. "Hell yeah. But I want it in writing. And snacks in advance."

You laughed.

And with that, you walked home together in the quiet evening, the scent of coffee still on your clothes and the warmth of a shared, simple day stitched into your hearts.

[star-redfiles]

been absolutely obsessed with criminal minds lately. so imagine...

pro barista!reader who visits the bau to drop off a freshly baked treat from their cafe for hotch and tries some coffee from his mug. only to be appalled by what's in it. considering the fact that they have a jet you'd think they could afford higher quality coffee. but of course, who could blame a group of overworked federal agents for just wanting any caffeine fix they could get. still, you refused to let your husband drink the office brew when you could make better.

so, despite his initial reluctance and insistence that he's fine with the bureau's coffee, you start making hotch his own coffee every morning. at least, the ones he starts from home. with the help of your espresso machine, you spoil him with freshly ground beans and his perfect ratio of foamed milk to espresso. you even surprise him with different types of beans every week to figure out which is his favourite.

when the team realises what's in the tumbler he's started bringing to work and why he hasn't been drinking the office coffee as often, they start protesting. they tease him relentlessly about being spoiled, or that he should be a "man of the people" and drink the same coffee they do. so in an attempt at humour, aaron jokes that if they have a problem with it, they should take it up with you.

to his own surprise, they actually do.

imagine his shock when you walk into the round table room the next day with a crate of six coffee cups in one hand. you place it in the middle of the table, noting that each one's been named. "a little going away gift," is what you call it as you set it down. everyone picks theirs up with a smile and a chorus of thanks makes its way to you.

"hope this going away gift becomes a regular thing," emily says. to which you simply chuckle and nod.

however, you still clutch a seventh cup in your other hand. this one you carry over to aaron, who's standing by the table. "and this last one..." you turn the cup around in your hand, as if looking for the name. "is for the handsome unit chief."

the smile reaches your eyes as you hand it to him. your fingers brush and both of you stay in place for a bit, wanting the touch but knowing he's not partial to pda. his own smile graces aaron's strained features. it's a kind that's rarely ever seen by the rest of the team. a kind of smile reserved only for you, paired with a kind of gaze only you ever see. "thank you, honey."

[coffeemachineswarehouse]

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Brewing Performance

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Furthermore, the Linea Mini employs a saturated group head, similar to those found in La Marzocco's professional machines. This design ensures optimal heat distribution and extraction, resulting in rich, flavorful espresso with a thick crema. The machine also includes a pre-infusion feature, allowing the coffee grounds to bloom and release their flavors before the full extraction process begins.

User-Friendliness and Customization

Despite its professional-grade features, the Linea Mini is surprisingly user-friendly. The machine incorporates intuitive controls and a digital display, making it easy to program and adjust various settings. Users can customize pre-infusion times, brew temperatures, and shot volumes to suit their personal preferences.

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Maintenance and Durability

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The Linea Mini features an automatic cleaning cycle, simplifying the cleaning process. The steam wand is easily removable for deep cleaning, and the drip tray and water reservoir are also accessible and straightforward to clean. Regular maintenance and descaling will keep the machine in optimal condition for years to come.

Conclusion

The La Marzocco Linea Mini Espresso Machine is a masterpiece that brings professional-quality coffee brewing into the comfort of your home. Its exceptional design, brewing performance, user-friendliness, and durability make it a standout choice for coffee enthusiasts who value precision and craftsmanship. While the price point may be a consideration for some, the Linea Mini's superior features and build quality justify the investment. If you are passionate about espresso and seek a machine that delivers an exceptional coffee experience, the Linea Mini should be at the top of your list.

[kotemf]

Gift wrap banner by: @the-little-moment.

My gift for @lonewolflupe for the @galactic-gift-gathering event is nothing else than a short fic about Commander Fox and his biggest love: caff. Your gift is belowthe cut, I hope you like it!

(Also, you can read this on Ao3 too)

Fox has always had a thing for caff.

He was a little older than eight standard years old when him and his batchmates decided to sneak out of their sleeping pods after the curfew and wandered to the mess hall. They were there for snacks but the moment Fox laid his gaze on a forgotten cup of the brown liquid on one of the tables, he couldn't look away. There was something about that brown liquid, something that made him take a sip.

There was no way to describe the taste, or the rush of contentment and energy that flooded Fox the moment he swallowed. And he knew in that moment that he wanted more.

His liking for caff hasn't changed. By the end of the war, he was drinking enough caff to show on a drug test.

And then the war ended, Fox was forced to quit his job of a commander until he recovered from the damage Palpatine did to him - not that he actually needed the time off but try explaining that to his overprotective batchmates - and along with his job, he list the option of stealing caff from the coffee machines in the senators' offices.

So he went and tried a coffee shop after coffee shop. And who knew caff could be even more delicious? Don't take him wrong, the plain black liquid he used to drink was good but it was nothing compared to pumpkin spice latte or strawberry creme frappuccino.

He didn't get why his batchmates laughed at his choice of drinks but then, his batchmates has always been weirdos. Fox didn't take it personally and brought them each a vanilla bean frappe with two pumps of raspberry syrup to their meeting in Wolffe's apartment.

"What's that?" Wolffe gave the plastic cup Fox just handed him a weird look. What was his problem? It was aesthetic!

"Looks kinda poisonous. Are you trying to kill us Fox'ika?" Cody joked. Asshole. Next time, Fox was getting him decaf.

"It's vanilla bean frappe with two pumps of raspberry syrup you moron."

"You know, maybe you could open a coffee shop," Rex snickered.

"You know what? I will."

"No, Fox, that was a joke! You can't just open a coffee shop!"

"Watch me."

Fox was nervous. He had exactly ten minutes and forty five- forty four- forty three- forty two- Alright, that's enough, he needed to calm down. He had approximately ten minutes before he opened his very first coffee shop. His worry was unnecessary. He was just opening his first ever coffee shop. What could go wrong?

Fox nervously sipped his iced matcha espresso as he watched the numbers on his watch change steadily. The drink was good. Surely his customers were going to agree. It was so good Fox ran out of the drink before he was supposed to open. He needed something to drink, something strong.

He was in the middle of the process of making a unicorn frappuccino when the door opened. Fox forced himself not to run away as he turned to his first ever customer. He was surprised to see senator Chuchi.

"Hi!" she greeted him cheerfully. She looked perfect as always, her blue skin glowy, robes carefully ironed without a hint of wrinkling, not a hair out of place... What was she doing in Fox's coffee shop. Not that it was Fox's business he was just curious. That... that didn't make it his business, right?

"Senator. What can I get you?"

"Surprise me."

Alright. Fox could do this. Caff was his job. No. No, caff was more. It was his life. He could make a good drink for a pretty senator.

Without even thinking about what he was doing, Fox started mixing ingredients in a cup. He started with some melted chocolate, added ice, almond milk, blueberry juice and mixed it well before pouring some well brewed coffee into it and topping it off with whipped cream and some heart shaped chocolate sprinkles. He looked at his creation. That wasn't any of the drinks on the menu. He did it all on instinct, without thinking. It didn't look bad, though. He handed it to the senator.

"Looks great. I don't remember seeing this one on the menu?"

"It's a... it's a special. Just for you," Fox stuttered.

He watched the senator take a sip. He hoped he mixed it well. An angry senator was the last thing he needed, especially when it was the one senator who treated the clones with respect. What was he even thinking, he should've just fixed her a regular latte with some extra cream and- "Wow. This is... I don't have words for this, this is the best drink I've ever had."

"Really?"

"Uh huh." The senator took another sip. Fox guessed he was lucky. "How much is it?"

A good question. "It's on the house," he blurted out.

"Thanks, Fox." The senator smiled at him. "I'll be back tomorrow!"

Fox watched the senator toss a generous amount of credits into the tip jar as she walked out of the shop. He was still busy wondering if she really just said his name. How did she recognize him? Kriff, how did she even know he had a name? He always went by CC-1010 when in the senate.

He was still pondering over that when he heard his batchmates snicker from the door. So they really came. Sweet.

"Are you going to be standing there or do you actually want to purchase something?" Fox asked impatiently. He was a barista, not a comedian. His job was to get people so hooked on caff he could live out of their orders, not making them laugh.

"Just basic blacks caff," Cody ordered.

"I will let you know that I offer a variety of different-"

"Black caff, vod," Cody asked again, the others following his example. His batchmates were the worst! Why couldn't they just all admit what drinks they really loved? Fox had no problem with admitting that his favorite drink was strawberry cream frappuccino.

"Of course." Fox rolled his eyes as he prepared each of his beloved batchmates a plain, boring coffee. "Two credits each."

"You're kidding, right?" Bly asked.

"No."

"You mean a senator gets a drink on the house and your batchmates don't?" Wolffe looked offended.

"The senator didn't get the most boring drink I offer, did she?"

"We are your batchmates!" Rex argued. It was ironic that it was him of all people, he wasn't even from the same batch, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and got kidnapped and later adopted by Cody. Not that Fox cared, no one was getting free drinks if they didn't at least order something interesting.

Fox's coffee shop turned out pretty well. Soon he had more customers than he could handle. Senator Chuchi kept coming every morning and sometimes in the evening as well. The command batch stopped by daily to order their plain coffee and then the di'kute returned alone later to order the drink they were embarrassed to admit they liked. The entire Coruscant Guard frequented the place as well as many other clones. Then there were Jedi and of course the regular citizens of Coruscant. To sum it up, the place was popular.

Fox was proud when he learned how well known his humble coffee shop was. Sure, his vode knew his shop. But nat-borns did too and that was a surprise. And it wasn't just some regulars who lived nearby, no. His coffee shop was a well known place! People would say they will meet at Fox's and their friends knew exactly where. Teenagers would buy caff just so they could spend an hour taking selfies with the cups and let the drink get cold. Fox couldn't be more happy. He loved caff and he loved making it for the citizens of Coruscant.

He heard the door open.

"Hey, Fox," Rex greeted him. He was the first one to return for his alone drink that day.

"Rex." Fox nodded at him. "The usual?"

"The usual."

Fox started making Rex's favorite espresso with milk, dragon fruit syrup, pink whipped cream, white chocolate topping and marshmallows. "Here you go." He handed Rex the cup and watched his vod'ika leave. He shook his head fondly. If only him and Fox's batchmates could admit they weren't all that much into boring, black caff, their lives would be much easier. It wasn't like they could laugh at each other. Rex loved milky espresso with dragon fruit, pink cream, white chocolate and marshmallows. Bly loved pumpkin spice latte. Cody loved affogato with cookie cream and two pumps of extra caramel. Wolffe's favorite was iced matcha tea latte with almond milk, raspberry syrup, seven extra pumps of dark chocolate, purple whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles. Fox didn't judge. His batchmates did but they didn't have the right too.

Fox was distracted by the door opening again. He looked up to see his favorite customer. He smiled. "Hi, Riyo. What can I get you today?"

She smiled back. "Surprise me." She always said that. It was more of a game at this point, she could've ordered any of the drinks Fox has served her in the past. But she seemed to enjoy the surprise and Fox liked the challenge of creating new and new delicious and aesthetic combinations.

"Of course."

[quezzzs]

"Gav, please-"

"I'm not going to that fucking party with you."

"PLEASEEEE"

"NO!"

Gavin is standing next to the coffee pot, waiting for the machine to be ready for use as Tina is literally on her knees and holding onto Gavin's leg dramatic like because she wanted his support.

One of Tina's relatives was hosting a couples only night at a pretty decent venue place and Tina recently asked out this blonde she's be talking to for some time to come along. However, because this was still semi-early to partake in activities when you're not officially a couple, this event was nerve-racking for Tina.

Which is why she's asking her best friend to go too.

"Gavin please, for this one time, THIS ONE TIME, can you do me this favor? You're my wingman, aren't you?" Tina shakes Gavin's leg back and forth, trying her hardest to convince the gruff detective.

"Officer Chen, get your ass off the floor."

Captain Fowler sternly warned Tina when passing by the break room.

Immediately Tina stood up and made a small 'sorry' to her captain before she turned back to Gavin with prayer hands and a bad attempt at puppy dog eyes.

Gavin grabs the coffee pot and pours himself some of the energizing liquid. "First of all, not your wingman. That supportive shit is for Chris, I'm here to take you back to reality."

"But-"

"Second of all, it's for couples only. If you wanna impress that blondie you've been with, then do it yourself. Besides, I'd get kicked out if security sees me third wheeling."

Tina scoffed and exaggerates her hand gesture to try and ease him. "There isn't gonna be security."

Gavin waved his hand with the coffee mug at Tina with an eyebrow raise. "A big event with roughly 120 couples? Your family has got to hire some guards to stand by." He chuckles once he saw his work bestie make a scowl on her face.

Tina placed her hands onto her hips but as Gavin was about to sip his morning coffee,

Tina got an idea.

An awful idea.

A wonderful, awful idea.

With a smirk on her mouth, Tina spoke in a smug tone.

"What if you weren't alone?"

Gavin paused to taunt her again, "Yeah? Who the hell would wanna go to that lame ass thing with me?" He then finally takes a drink out of his coffee cup, allowing her to answer.

"What if you went with Nines?"

In this context, Gavin has never choked on anything this intensely before.

Gavin settles down his mug onto the counter and covers his mouth with his arm, coughing into it a few more times as tears pricked on the corner of his eyes. Tina snorted as she ripped off a couple paper towels from a nearby holder and passed it to her male friend.

When wiping his mouth, Gavin irritatedly uttered, "Jesus christ."

Tina continued to give Gavin some more convincing.

"Just go as a couple for the night and you guys can go your separate ways until it's time to wrap up. Also, haven't you been craving my family's special cakes?"

"Tina, I don't care if your mom can make mouthwatering desserts. There is no way in hell I'm ever getting with that tall ass roomba." Gavin drops the unused paper towels onto the floor and used his foot to clean the floor from the coffee he spat out.

Even with Tina's tempting offer, he felt as though that deal was low in his benefits if he was gonna make a bold move just to help out Tina's date. Chris just had to go out on his own little date night with his wife.

This was torture.

"I can get you a cat."

"I don't have the money for a cat right now."

"New leather jackets?"

"Nope, mines' just doing fine."

"I can buy you that new coffee maker you've been wanting."

"The 5K one?"

"Yes, and the good quality beans that costs $50 per bag."

...

...

...

"Phck-"

That was all Tina needed to hear before pulling Gavin in for a tight bear hug.

"YESYESYESTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!!!"

"GETTHEPHCKOFFME!"

══════════════════

Gavin was stuck on how he could even approach this discussion with Nines.

He didn't want to come off as needy, or a wimp, or just a desperate pussy, but he really wanted to get the coffee pot Tina promised him, and Gavin knew she'd keep her word.

Around the end of the day when Gavin was taking his things to leave, he had to pause himself before thinking of what to say, getting a glance over at Nines across from him.

'God, I'm really gonna ask this asshole?'

Nines glanced back at Gavin, scrunching his eyebrows slightly at the older man and waiting for a response.

'Fuck it'

Gavin stood up from his chair and gestured with his head to Nines so they could go over to a more private area in the precinct. Skeptical of what Gavin was planning, Nines rose slowly from his seat and followed Gavin by the lockers.

"Nines-"

"Are we departing now?"

"Wha- Huh-"

"I overheard your conversation with Officer Chen when you started to lose oxygen due to your coffee being ingested incorrectly. Next time, I suggest you to wait for a reply before drinking. You never know what might the other party will say."

Oh this bastard.

Gavin stared at Nines with a dead look of exasperation, a face that screams, 'I'm gonna run you over one day.'

Nines simply stared back with an apathetic expression, patiently expecting Gavin to answer with anything.

"So you actually wanna go to the shitty thing?"

"Well, I have nothing else planned if we are not going to have another session tonight. I wouldn't mind it at all."

So yeah, this was happening alright.

══════════════════

Since Nines doesn't own personal clothing, other than his uniform and a few casual wear shirts and pants, Gavin had to bring him to his apartment to try on old clothes that didn't fit Gavin anymore.

That's where Gavin found himself sitting at the edge of his bed and checking out the various outfits Nines had picked out from a box labelled 'for donation'.

Gavin was wearing brown jeans, that were semi torn at the bottom, with a dark green sweater and black leather jacket with some funky patches on his bottom pocket. Not his best outfit but this wasn't a formal event with suits and gowns.

However, he didn't care about what he wore because his eyes were dead set on Nines.

Even though the two have seen and felt each other's bodies multiple times for the past 2 months, Gavin couldn't help but get a weird warm feeling as he watched Nines undressing in a non-sexual context.

It felt...intimate.

Nines finally put on his final piece of clothing and turned around to get Gavin's approval.

It was unnecessary since Nines already knew what was 'fashionable' from the many articles and websites he internally searched up in order to fit in with his preference for a comfortable but respectable look,

but maybe it was because he actually wanted the other detective's opinion.

...

Nah, it was definitely the first reason.

"So, what is your personal rating for this one?" Nines asked as he stood straight.

Nines wore chic black pants that were somewhat wide at the bottom and a grey long-sleeved button up. A simple and plain look for a minimalistic android.

Nines' perfect look.

Gavin shrugged his shoulders and got up. "Eh, good enough." As he was about to leave the room, Nines spoke up.

"Good enough? Is there something wrong with this?" Gavin turned his head in confusion, unable to understand where the RK900 was getting at. "No- What? I said it's good."

"But you added 'enough'. Therefore, there is something missing that you aren't telling me."

"Fucking eh, when did you become a fashionista?"

"I'm not going until you point out what appropriate garment I've left unaccounted for."

Gavin rolled his eyes as he went over to his drawer, grumbling underneath his breath.

He knew that his work partner can be dramatic on a few occasions, but now wasn't the right time. Gavin really wanted to have a slice of Tina's mom's mango cake again.

Rummaging through his nightstand, he picked up a silver item in his hands and walked over to Nines. "Turn 'round for me, Barbie."

"This better not be a little prank on me. I will punch you if it is."

"Just shut up and face the closet."

Nines kept his neutral face on but complied to Gavin's command. Originally, he assumed that he was gonna make another sex joke or ruin the outfit in a way to annoy Nines but-

Okay that was too close for comfort.

Nines' LED went yellow for a moment when he felt Gavin's presence behind him and wrapped an accessory around his neck. It was only for a short moment but the energy felt...tender.

"There, now ya fucking trust me?"

Nines brought his hand up to touch the silver necklace that was now adorned. The texture was smooth and was a comfortable fit, but Nines' attention was more towards the northern star charm that he fiddled around with in his fingers.

"I suppose it is a greater addition."

"Alright then, move it. The sooner we're at the place, the sooner we separate."

Ah, yes. That was the plan Gavin had told Nines.

Must've slipped Nines' mind with all the rest of his thoughts.

When getting ready to leave, Nines' thoughts never quiet down.

He was wearing Gavin's old clothes.

Gavin's clothes.

That Gavin used to wear

That Gavin himself allowed the bot to wear.

Clothes that had a lingering scent of cheap cologne and faint cigarettes.

Why did it feel so nice on Nines?

Prev - Next

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Carpe Noctem 24

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, gaslighting, manipulation, violence, blood, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You enter the cafe with an armful of containers. Peter's already there opening as you set down your fare on the counter. You yawn as he turns in surprise at the tupperware stack.

"What's all this?" He asks.

"Desserts. Ideas for specials. I was thinking we could have some taste tests-- where's Cole?"

"Should be on his way. He called, his mother's having some plumbing issues or something. I don't know, he's late," Peter shrugs, " weird, he's never late. A bit... flighty but not late."

"Oh," you lift the containers, "I'll move these into the back office then."

"Don't got a key. Master doesn't work, just leave those by the dishrack," Peter says, "you want a coffee before we open up? Maybe I can come up with a new recipe too... something to go with what you did. What did you make?"

You go down the list and he nods. He scrunches his face and his brows suddenly flick up. He grins and winks.

"Go, sit," he shoos you with his fingers. "I want to surprise you."

"But... should I--" you gesture around you.

"I'm already done most of the tasks. I don't wanna be rude but you look tired as hell."

"I am," you agree dryly.

You don't need convincing. You just want to sit down. The prospect of a whole day on your feet is less than enticing. You feel slightly dizzy as it is. Blame it on the lack of sleep or your missed morning caffeine dose, but you know what's really to blame. Every time you get a whiff of the cinnamon, you can feel Lloyd's arm around your neck. You can hear his growl and your pathetic whimpers.

Just sex. Just like he said. You can't be mad at him for wanting what you promised. He put a roof over your head, so that's nothing. That's what you agreed to.

You sit and rest your forehead against your hand. Even those stiff chairs are cozy to your exhausted body. You shift one way and feel your thighs tingle. It's over, it's a new day, and now you know better. Just like with Johnny, it's better to deal with him before yourself.

Peter clinks and clanks, the machines hissing and whirring, a warmth radiating from behind the counter. You're lulled by the activity as it helps you forget. The abrupt silence brings your head up as his soft footfalls pad around. He presents a mug with foam decorated with a maple leaf. He sets it down and puts his hands on his hips proudly.

"Maple cinnamon latte," he smirks, "we'll need more maple... but it's just a test."

"Huh, thanks, Peter," you pull it close and inhale the scent. You pause and look up at him as he watches you, "what about you?"

"Me? Ha, I've had three espressos and I'm about to crawl across the ceiling," he laughs, "decaf until noon at least."

"Ah, yeah, probably a good idea."

"I didn't know you baked," he says, "you got kids or a husband? You seem like the type."

"Uh no, not exactly," you return your attention to the cup and take a cautious sip, "mmm, it's good."

"Yeah, me either," he sways, "I got time though, you know? I'm twenty-one--"

"Lots," you agree with a snort, "what about that girl that was here the other day? She's cute, she comes around a lot."

"She won't even look at me," he frowns, "but she is cute."

"She just seems a bit shy," you offer, "give it time."

"Yeah, yeah," he drags his sole over the floor, "least I'm not Cole."

"What?" You scoff.

"Oh well, I guess you don't know him that well yet. Guy hasn't had a date in five years. He tries. A lot," he gives a cringey look to the wall, "you know, he ends up chasing off most of the girls arguing about beans and roast level and all that."

"Yeah, he is very particular you agree."

"That's a way to put it," Peter backs up, slowly making his way back to the counter. He stops and turns back to you, another wily smirk, "can I put something out there?"

"What?" You take another drink, this one braver, greedy as your temples begin to pound.

"I think he likes you. You're patient. Especially with him. That's no small feat. And well, he's a dope and you're not hard to like," he sticks out his tongue.

"Peter," you roll your eyes, "he's our boss."

"Not that kinda boss. I've had way worse. Sure you have too," he goes behind the counter and boots up the till, "besides, since you got here, you're kinda the boss now."

"What?" You exclaim again.

The door jars inwards, startling both of you. You look over as Cole rushes in, combing his hair with his fingers as one sleeve falls past his shoulder. He looks about as rough as you feel.

"Hey, boss," Peter squeaks, "what's going on?"

"Ah, nothing," he shrugs off his jacket entirely, "I was stuck in traffic and this asshole swung a tire iron at my windshield a few streets back."

"What?" You stand, "are you okay?"

You cross to him without thinking. He's flushed and slightly breathless. He nods and clears his throat.

"Yeah, yeah, car's in rough shape but I'm fine," his eyes meet yours and his cheeks tinge pink. His nose wiggles and he lifts his chin as he sniffs, "something smells delicious."

"Want one? Maple Cinnamon," Peter offers.

"Maple Cinnamon? When did we add that?"

"We didn't. Didn't want to be outdone."

"Uh, yeah," you interject, "I kinda went crazy in the kitchen last night."

"Crazy?" Cole smiles at you, "how crazy?"

"I made some scones... and some squares... maybe some croissants...."

"Wow, you did all that," he folds his jacket over his arm as his eyes brighten, "that's amazing."

"Enough talking," Peter says, "I've been dying to try!" He peels up the corner of a lid, "can I, please?"

You nod and head around the counter. Cole follows as Peter claims a pumpkin square. You pass, not very hungry, and Cole accepts one. You wait anxiously for their feedback, glancing between them. Both hum and roll their eyes back.

"Oh god, these are like sex," Cole says.

Peter furrows his nose and you're not sure what to say. You hold back a laugh, "well, thanks, I guess."

"Sorry, I'm not in work mode yet," he smacks his forehead, "I'll just shut up and eat.”

“Is that all it takes?” Peter kids and takes another bite.

You shake your head at both of them and look at the clock, “alright, almost opening time. Let's get it together.”

[noodledoodlebugs]

Nick Valentine in: Machine vs Man.

Based on Sonnet 29 by Shakespeare

for @bookwermthings for the Secret Santa.

Nick Valentine is… something.

Nick sits up on his bed. It was summer, so the fans were kicked on at their highest setting. Nick slept on the top floor, slightly cracking the door for more air. He has been staring at the blank metal wall for what felt like hours. He is a synth, yes, but something else entirely. He has a personality. He can dream, he can want, he can loathe and hate, and while he does not need to, he can smoke.

So why must people look at him as if he were a rogue, as if he was one of them? As if he was nothing more than and “tin for brains” robot, hellbent on destroying their life and taking their loved ones? The fear of him has only helped a few times when he was new. But as the new wave of synths began rolling out, people learned more about the capabilities of synths. Now instead of being curious and frightful, there was only hate.

The wasteland is an awful place.

Nick takes his rusted metal arm and caresses it down his face, tracing the edge of his rubbery skin. He can hear the clicks and whirs of his inner mechanisms, careful not to touch any of them. It was already hell trying to keep up with maintenance. He closes his eyes and imagines his past. How it felt to be human. He can feel the benches he’s sitting on. He can taste the warm air and can feel it on his skin again. The sun is bright, warm, and forgiving. He turns to find Jennifer by his side, hair blowing gracefully in the air.

She looked… wonderful.

He can feel Jennifer caressing his face again. She speaks something into the air, smiling. Nick looks back at her, only to find her going limp. He grabbed her, holding on to her, calling out her name. He’s now in the street, lying in a dark alleyway. He can hear someone crying, tears rolling down his cheek.

Nick snapped out of his daydream, frazzled. There was a glow of orange from the cracked door. If he still had skin, he would have been sweating. He sighs and parts away, hastily putting on his jacket and crumpled fedora.

The wasteland is a terrible place. He needed a distraction.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nick needed to find passion. Yes, he had a job of being a detective, but he lacked fulfillment in the joys of life. He needed to find the simple joys of the wasteland.

Sun peeked through his door, filling the room with a bright light and a warm breeze. Nick sat at his office desk feeling heavy. He needed to start from his home and find the simple joys of Diamond City. Swiping paper and ink pens, he opened his daily issue of Publick Occurrences. He had asked Ellie the night before to find the case files for missing people. Right on cue, Ellie barged into Nicks office, holding a large manilla folder, stuffed with a stack of papers.

“Here are the files you ordered Mr. Valentine.”  Ellie said, settling down the papers.

“This is perfect, thank you Ellie” Nick said grabbing them, flipping through them. He has been on the same case for a few weeks now, maybe he just needed to switch gears. He notices Ellie’s eyes seem to be drooping. “You seem a bit tired, are you good?”

“I am fine, don’t worry. I just need a cup of coffee.” She said. She quickly left, coming back with a whistling kettle, spoon, and a mug filled with crushed coffee beans. Ellie pours some hot water and sugar in the mug, mixing it with a bent spoon.

Ellie sips her cup of coffee, deeply inhaling. Warmth spreads everywhere across her skin. This sense of bliss, which was so rare in a land of savagery and hatred, was one of the longest she has ever felt.

Nick envied Ellie a bit. He wondered how it felt to taste again. He could feel heat throughout his body, but he could never taste the bitterness and pure happiness of a hot coffee after a long night. He can’t truly feel tired, so the bliss of a night rest continuously escapes him, and he doesn’t need to eat to energize. He can feel sensations, but nothing that made him human.

Nick closed the door to his office. He needed some fresh air.

Nick has had his fair share of visits to Good Neighbor. Occasionally, he went to look for a missing person and they would end up here. Other times, he had ran into the charming mayor, often giving grand speeches from the balcony, high off jet. It was impressive he wasn’t dead from overdose yet.

Today though, he found himself sitting with the mayor of good neighbor, Hancock. Hancock had invited him to one of his favorite shows at the Third Rail Bar. Hancock was a pretty chill guy. He had his fair share of wasteland tragedies, but he has kept his spirits high. If anyone knew how to find simple joys in life it would be him.

“If you’re looking for a slice of heaven in this wasteland, you are looking at the gates” Hancock says point to the red dim lighted sign.

“I know that you have good entertainment Hancock, if you didn’t, I don’t think Good Neighbor would let you get away with it.” Nick said walking inside down the stairs. He hears low music and chattering slowly fills the air.

Hancock and nick sat down at a table a few feet from the bar. Nick would have picked a table closer to the door in case things got seedy but decided to pick a table near the edge of the room, in the perfect viewing area of the stage. He was here to see entertainment.

“I’m telling you Nick. You’ve heard anything like this before. Absolutely breathtaking.” Hancock smiled, downing a bottle of ale.

Nick responded with a quiet hum.

 The lights dimmed into a dark blue, leaving only a spotlight onto the stage. Music filled the room, and the crowd hushed. Magnolia stood in the corner singing, the crowd drawn to her as if she were a siren. She steps off the stage and walks around the tables, swaying and dancing as if she were weightless. Hancock cheered from the tables, drank another bottle, and hummed along quietly to the songs.

Nick studies the room. He enjoys the music and the atmosphere, but doesn’t feel fulfilled, only con. It felt as if he was biting into a cloud. Soft, sweet, but empty. He envies Hancock a bit, how he can just be around people. How he can give speeches, leaving the city hanging on to his every word. He was respected, feared, but most importantly loved. Even if it is a crime-ridden city, it’s a city of misfits all counting on him to keep it moderately peaceful.

The crowd cheered as the song came to an end. Some shout for encore. Magnolia waves her hand and sits at the far end of the bar, drinking in hand. No wonder Magnolia was one of the top acts in Good Neighbor.

Nick got up to leave his table, walking towards the stairs.

“Nick wait! Aren’t you staying for the second set?” Hancock called out to him, slightly buzzed.

“Sorry Hancock but my schedules full again. I have to get back to work” he says trudging up the stairs. He continues his journey back to Diamond City, determined to find joy in his life.

The wasteland is an awful but interesting place.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nick had taken a break from his detective work. After taking a trip to the Colonial Taphouse and earning a glare from the various drunk patrons, he decided to cut his trip short and take a smoke break. Its odd, despite not being able to get addicted, smoking was a reflexive action. Lighting his cigarette, he looked outward to the city.

“Hey.”  Said a voice beside him. It was Piper.

“Hey Piper, what are you doing here?” Nick asked.

“Enjoying the view. The city looks so beautiful from up here” she says, sighing wistfully. Her eyes sparkled looking down at the city. “What about you? You don’t drink… unless I missed a crucial update.”

He rolled his eyes. “I needed to take a break and clear my mind.” Nick said, still looking down at the city. The city’s bright lights are normally blinding, but today they seem inviting. They both watched the area silently. After a while, Piper got up from leaning turning to the stairs, before momentarily pausing. She fishes out a letter from her coat pocket and hands it to Nick.

“Before I leave, Blue invited you to a party.” she says, handing him a small note. “Come to the home plate if you have the time tomorrow, me and Hancock were invited, along with a few others.”

Nick grabbed the note. A party? Here? The details were vague, but the party included free food and drinks, and the invitation extended to all of the Sole Survivor’s personal companions. Why him then? He can’t eat or drink, so why bother even making an invitation for him.

Only one way to find out.

Nick had been invited by the Sole Survivor for a small dinner party. He followed the directions to the home plate, where he was greeted by Sole. Opening the door, he found a large table filled with food and drinks, surrounded by several chairs. The food wasn’t particularly fancy, it was warm deviled eggs, spam, and Fancy Lad Cakes, served with Insta-Mash and tatos. Each seat had a can of purified water, except one. That must be his seat.

“Oh, hey Nick, was wondering when you were going to show up.” Piper said cheerfully. “Come, have a seat, I’m sitting next to you.”

Taking his seat next to Piper, he looks around. Codsworth was serving up the purified water and handling setting up the table, keeping it in an orderly fashion. Macready and Sole talked outside, greeting the other companions coming in. Hancock and Cait walked in, chatting about fighting styles. They both notice and waved at him and continue their talk on how efficient a spiked baseball bat was for combat. Dogmeat licked his hand and wagged his tail, earning a few head scratches from Nick, and scampered off, finding his seat underneath the table.

Nick smiled. He had found the thing he was missing. His simple joy.

The wasteland was an interesting place.

[yuumipaws]

Professor Sycamore morning fic

I am not proof reading this im so sorry

fluff, kinda shippy ( Sycamore x Lysandre )

Professor Sycamore having a nice day off

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Sycamore is a simple guy.

He wakes up, makes his coffee, goes to work to do whatever professors do. However, everyone needs a day off.

Augustine Sycamore is no different but he simply did not know what to do with himself on the rare occasion that he got time off. He was practically forced not to work, looking down at his phone and seeing threating texts from Diantha warning him to not go to his office or answer any emails.

He lets out a sigh, rolling out of bed. He slides on his slippers to spare his feet from the cold floor and makes his way to the kitchen. He had a humble little kitchen, reasonably priced appliances, even his coffee maker was just a gift, nothing he splurged on. He did spend a pretty penny on coffee beans. He loves making lattes and coffee to take to work with him. He throws away the old coffee puck and cleans out the ground head with a damp napkin before refilling it, pressing it and putting it back into the machine. As he puts the cup under the machine and starts it he grabs his hand held milk frother and puts a little bit of whole milk into a cup and froths it.

A ding from his phone pulls him from his thoughts, it's a text from Lysandre asking him to call him. Sycamore blushes a little hesitating before picking up his phone and calling him.

"Hello, Lysandre? is something wrong?" There's a few moments of silence "Professor, No nothings wrong. I just wanted to check on you. Are you relaxing." His cheeks turn a little red at the gesture. "Yes, I'm making coffee now." Lysandre lets out a little chuckle from the other side of the phone. "Would you like to get a bite to eat with me tonight? Maybe around six?" Sycamore nods, realizes he cannot see him through the phone before mumbling a little "y..yeah sounds good." He panicked and hung up, letting out a sigh.

The professor takes a sip of his latte thinking about what to wear, is this a date? It can't be a date.. Just a nice lunch between friends... very good friends. He sets his empty cup face down into the sink to handle later while he slinks off into the bathroom. Putting his hair into a pony tail at the top of his head like a horn, he wets his face before preforming his too-long skincare routine of products that cost way too much money.

He puts on a teeth whitening strip as he finishes his routine, taking down his hair. He brushes out his hair and uses just a little bit of gel and water to make it stay in the shape he wants.

Looking in his closet he grabs a sage green turtleneck pairing it with beige pants. Looking in the mirror he lets out a sigh, fidgeting with his hair trying to get it to sit right. "He's going to think I look dumb.." he mumbles trying to make his appearance live up to his expectations.

Looking at the time, he notices its getting close to the time he agreed to meet with Lysandre so he picks up his phone shooting him a text to ask for the address of whatever restaurant he wanted to meet at.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Sitting in the cafe Sycamore twiddles his thumbs just waiting for Lysandre to show up. Why is he so nervous? It's not like this is a date! Nope! definitely not a date! Just-

His thoughts are cut off by the chair in front of him making a loud scraping sound as its pulled out. "Hello Augustine." It's Lysandre... his voice sounds so smooth and nice on the ears it makes Sycamores face go warm. "Hey.." He mumbles, scared to make eye contact.

A waitress comes over to take their orders and they decide on sharing a dish, just to save money of course. They order a strawberry cake and two iced coffees. As they make small talk Sycamore can't stop staring at admiring Lysandre's features, he really is a charming man it's so shocking to Sycamore that Lysandre is yet to have a girlfriend.

Their food is brought out to them with two forks. Lysandre watches and waits for Sycamore to take the first bite, he hesitates before sinking his fork into the spongey cake. As Sycamore puts the cake in his mouth he lets out a little groan. It was nice to have a sweet treat for once. Lysandre smiled watching the professor enjoy himself. They idlily chatted as they ate together. Spending time is Lysandre really helped Augustine relax, he was just such a delight to be around. "I love spending time with you." Sycamore says softly. Lysandre miss hears the other man, his face going red. "I love you too." He replies sharply. Sycamore's brain just... stops for a second. "...huh" the words made his chest tighten and for some reason he just... didn't want to correct him. "I should get gone." The professor spits out as he digs the money out of his wallet to pay his half of the bill. He quickly gathers himself and rushes out of the cafe embarrassed. The whole way home he was just repeating the interaction over and over again in his mind. Are they dating?? What the hell just happened?

He slams his door open and quickly rushed inside, kicking off his shoes and rushing to his bedroom. He got into his bed, staring at the wall. He loves him. That was totally a date.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This isn't great.. I'll get better as I write more (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) this took me way freaking longer than I meant it too for it to be so short sorry 4 rushing it at the end