#I do add the cream and sugar. i just also take my first sip on the way to the station to make the actual gauging taste on if its good

[spoonstrek]

I like to imagine traveling back in time to the Victorian Era just so I can loudly find refined white sugar a banal item and can bitch about the quality of tea available in the West

[thelaundrybitch]

So I've seen the post floating around about Donnie and his coffee, but my question is: Even though there is a perfectly good working coffee maker (or three) in the lair, which of the boys horrifies Donnie by making the instant stuff. And which one either jokingly or seriously mentions just chewing the stuff straight up?

***Original Post this ask refers to, along with my Don HC's for coffee, can be found HERE

Alright,

First of all, this ask straight up made me squeal with joy. You got the wheels in my brain cranking overtime 

And. I. LOVE. IT. 🙌

Also, I’ve been thinking about it since yesterday, and here’s my hot take…

Reblogs only, please!

Raph isn’t a huge coffee fan. Boytoy likes it sweeter than candy.

Mocha-extra-sugar-squeeze-of caramel-douse-it-with-chocolate-syrup AND whipped cream on top?

Yes, please.

This is the coffeeless coffee drinker, my pals.

And you thought Don was bad with his sweet tooth 😂❤️

Mike doesn’t really care for coffee.

He doesn’t like the way it makes him feel.

He’s the one that’s going to tell Don to get rid of that big-assed, stupid eyesore from his kitchen and just chew the beans straight.

What does Don do?

Mentions it to Raph - in slight annoyance.

What does Raph do? 

Creates the ice-blended cookie crumble coffee.

What is this, you ask?

It’s an ice-blended, mocha-espresso drink topped with whipped cream, drizzled chocolate, and sprinkled with Oreo cookie crumbles.

The best part?

He blends the ice, mocha, and espresso WITH ground coffee beans.

And it’s absolutely fucking delicious.

What makes it EVEN BETTER?

Mike taking a sip and thoroughly enjoying this newfound beauty of a coffee drink.

And don’t worry,

Raph figures out how to make a decaf version for his youngest broski 😍🧡❤️

Oh, my sweet, sweet Leonardo.

Coffee isn’t even in his vocabulary.

Tea.

Tea for days.

He refers to Coffee as “The C-word.”

He tried it once when he was a teenager.

Straight from Don’s morning mug.

The poor guy didn’t sleep for days.

Meditation? 

Out of the question.

Katas?

He was a fucking maniac.

However…

The lair was very clean that day after that one splendiferous sip.

He totally blames that one sip of coffee for his OCD now.

And let's not forget your question about instant coffee.

That.

That.

THAT.

Is something Don refuses to acknowledge is even IN the lair.

Why is it there?

Splinter.

Splinter drinks it.

But only when Don makes an unusual appearance at breakfast time.

It goes something like this:

Don walks into the kitchen and brews himself his triple shot hazelnut latte, and sits at the table with a homemade frosted cinnamon bun - courtesy of Mike.

Splinter wanders in, fully set on making his morning tea.

He sees Don enjoying his fancy-schmancy coffee and sweet treat.

What does he do?

He goes to the forbidden cabinet

Retrieves the blasphemous instant coffee tin.

And brings his cup of hot water and said tin to the table.

Don looks up out of the corner of his eye and visibly cringes

Splinter S L O W L Y adds scoop, after scoop, after scoop of the abomination to his mug.

And stirs it, making sure the spoon sCrApEs the bottom of the cup

It’s like a train wreck.

Don can’t look away.

Splinter picks his mug up and slorps the drink as a 5-year-old would with soup from a spoon.

After the third slorp Don stands up in a huff and storms from the kitchen with his latte and pastry

muttering something about needing to finish his 'research'

Splinter chuckles

Stands up

DUMPS OUT the coffee

And makes himself a cup of tea.

😂🐀🤎

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[em-dash-press]

How to Use Sensory Details in Fiction

The five basic senses are powerful tools for writers.

They're how readers experience stories instead of just reading about them.

They're the secret to showing, not telling.

These are a few ways you can wield them like an expert and improve any story.

Seeing

Visual descriptions can have layers that describe your protagonist's world while telling the reader about more than what your character can see. Here's an example:

Example: Rain fell outside her window.

Revision Example: Rain fell outside her window in heavy sheets of droplets that hid the world past her porch.

In the revision, it's easier to see how hard it's raining. The difference sets a unique tone. Maybe the sun is setting and it's the protagonist's first time home alone, so not being able to see the street in front of her house makes her nervous. Maybe she loves that rain because she wants to hide from the world. It depends on the story.

Descriptions can also add emotional weight or understanding via:

Colors

Adjectives ("angry" sheets of rain; "comforting" shower of droplets on her roof)

Personification (making the rain "angry" gives it a personality/emotional intention)

By all means, every visual description shouldn't be this wordy. Your readers will get overwhelmed, bored, or annoyed. But restructuring visual descriptions here and there will add depth to your storytelling that your manuscript might lack.

Hearing

What your character hears can also strengthen your story. Think about what a scene calls for. Should your character feel some kind of tension? Do they need to relax? Add that into your manuscript via sound.

Example: Their foreheads pressed together, Marcus said, "I adore you."

Revision Example: Their foreheads pressed together, Marcus whispered the words Henry's heart ached to hear. They slipped past his lips, soft and hesitant. "I adore you."

Using auditory descriptors can make your writing better when you need the reader to feel a specific way about dialogue or something happening around them.

Some other details you can focus on besides the sound of someone's voice:

Environmental sounds (birds calling, trees rustling, the wind, cars on a street, etc.)

Interpreted sounds (what the protagonist thinks they hear happening in another room, etc.)

Emotional sounds (add a line about the fear your protagonist feels when they hear footsteps in the middle of the night or the comfort of a crackling fireplace)

Tasting

People learn about the world through their sense of taste from the moment they're born. Good flavors create great memories and emotional connections. Tasting something terrible ruins your mood. These things are all important in fiction.

Example: The first sip of morning coffee always takes care of my morning grumpiness.

Revision Example: My morning grumpiness doesn't stand a chance against a cup of my coffee. The amount of sugar and cream I consume in a single cup should probably be outlawed, but a single sip never fails to make my day seem brighter.

Taste can also set your characters apart from the known world. If your character accidentally bites the inside of their lip and scowls at the metallic tang of blood, you know they're unhappy. If the same thing happens and the blood carries a sweetness that makes them want more, you know they're a vampire.

Think about adding factors like:

Flavors

Textures

Emotions/memories/cultural significance of a flavor

Smelling

The sense of smell may be one of the first ways people understand the world around them. You use it before ever opening your eyes. It sets the tone for a scene and can change the dynamic between two characters.

Example: Their first date was perfect until she hugged him goodbye. He smelled bad.

Revision example: Their first date was everything she'd hoped for until she hugged him goodbye. His sour body odor slammed into her, shattering the idea that he could be her prince charming. Instead, the reeking musk promised a lifetime of reminders to shower and use deodorant. She was not dating to become a grown man's mother.

Smells affect how someone feels, thinks, and responds to others or events. You can also add smell descriptors for things like:

Universal scents any reader can relate to

Mood-related scents

Scents that affect tension (smoke coming from somewhere in the protagonist's house, something rotting behind a wall, etc.)

Feeling

People are constantly experiencing life through their sense of touch. Without it, any story or scene will feel like it's missing something crucial.

Example: The kids jumped into the lake that summer afternoon.

Revision example: The kids plunged into the cool lake water to escape the summer heat.

The simple addition of describing the temperature of the lake water gives the characters and reader some relief in a summer story. The reader knows how refreshing it is to swim in cool water when the day is super hot. This description likely changes the character's moods, their outlook on the rest of the day, and the tension caused by environmental factors like stuffy hot air.

You can also write about the sense of touch with:

Physical situations (a soft kiss, a painful punch, a back-cracking hug)

Similes ("The grass was rough beneath his feet, like an unshaven face.")

Inward sensations (a heartbeat, a deep breath, an anxious stomach knotting up)

---

You'll know you're overdoing it with your sensory descriptions if you have dense paragraphs with extremely long sentences. You may also re-read a chapter/short story and feel like the pacing is too slow due to wordiness.

Sometimes you only need a few words to utilize a character's senses and enhance your story. The best way to find that middle ground is by writing, revising, and reading your work out loud.

With time and patience, your work will shine because you put so much thought into the sensory aspects of your world.

[sapphire-heart-tippy]

Edit: This may have been a Selfship event story, but it is also a major part of the Sapphire Heartverse: Sugar Crash Void Bash canon!

Day 1: Share your very first romantic kiss

Well, it's already known how Vanilla and Tippy had their first kiss! (here!) But here's a short story on how Vanilla and Tippy had their first kiss with Bel!

It's a crisp, calm, delightful autumn evening. The three gentlemen are walking down the sidewalk, taking in the scenery, breathing in that nice fall air, watching the leaves twirl off the branches of trees, and… they're trying to find a way to break the silence! Bel glances up at Vanilla, who's in the middle of the other two. Xe locks eyes for a brief moment with the tall man and averts xis gaze to the trees beside xem. Vanilla, who has been the unfortunate victim of having to wear pants this season, puts his hands in his pockets and looks down at Tippy,

"It's quiet. Pretty peaceful out this evening, hm?"

"Oh yeah." Tippy smiles. Bel wants to chime in and say something. They're a little nervous because of everything that happened about a year ago… they used to be influenced by an evil gemstone…and yet these two not only wanted to be their friend but also take them out on a date. Tippy looks over at Bel, noticing xe's a little shy at the moment. He pipes up and smiles at Bel,

"So, what are you gonna get at the cafe, Bel? Are you more of a sweets kind of person or savory?"

"Me? Oh, huh… I mean, like, I do enjoy a nice treat here and there. But, like, I guess I could just go with anything, you know? I mean, I can be pretty picky, not going to lie about that," Bel chuckles and touches his own chest, gesturing to himself, "Okay, honestly, I am a more than just a little picky… but, I'm willing to try almost anything once honestly. Ahahahaha!" Vanilla tries to add to the conversation, but Bel continues, "Sometimes I even think about trying random foods from all around the world, like, I'll probably try to do a little country to country taste testing, you know? Maybe, like, get one thing from each country-" Bel puts their hand up, "WAIT. Maybe I could get one of the same thing from each country I go to. Or wait, maybe I should get something different-? I don't know, it's all so confusing, like-" Bel laughs and looks over at Vanilla and Tippy. 

He instantly feels self conscious. Shit, I'm talking too much about myself again. Why do I keep doing this? Bel thinks to himself. He clears his throat,

"Uh hum…yeah…"

"I think that would be fun, heheh!" Tippy grins at xem. Vanilla nods,

"Hey, we're here." He opens the cafe door for the other two fellas. 

"Thank you so much, Vans! Oh you're such a sweetie pie." Tippy touches Vanilla's arm as he walks inside. Bel checks xis nails as xe walks in, but catches xemself,

"O-oh! Thank you, Nilla. You always were the better servant boy." Bel attempts to make a little joke, but as that sentence came out of their mouth, they instantly felt like a jerk saying it, "Wait, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that in a bad way."

"You're fine." Vanilla tells them. 

As the three get to their table next to the window, they all admire the autumn view. The leaves blow in the slight breeze. Tippy takes a sip of his pumpkin spiced hot chocolate, then squeaks.

"Sweetie, are you okay?" Vanilla looks concerned.

"Yeah, I just got my tongue burned!" Tippy says. "At least I can just lick the whipped cream until it cools off though, heheh."

"OMG, that reminds me of this one time back when I was working at that crusty old mansion, one of the guys that used to work there found a scorpion? And he like, grabbed it? I was like, 'what are you doing put that thing down right now' and he was like, 'watch this' and I was like 'okay' and he freaking… puts this creature in his mouth and it like, bites his tongue- well, it didn't bite his tongue, it stung it," Bel interjects. As xe continues xis story, Vanilla daintily puts a spoonful of sugary whipped cream covered in caramel and chocolate sauce in his mouth. The other two listen to Bel talk and tell stories. Not only about his time working at the mansion, but also about what happened while he was under the jewel's influence. 

Bel suddenly realizes, after about 20 minutes of talking nonstop, that they didn't let either of the two say a single word. They feel self conscious once again and try to wrap up their story. They end up stumbling over their words and embarrassing themself. They sip their equally as sugary coffee and stare down at their drink.

Tippy's brows frown, understanding what Bel might be feeling right now. He just has a lot to say… maybe the reason he talks so much is because he just needs somebody to listen… Tippy thinks to himself. Vanilla isn't very talkative and he's introverted, where Bel is extroverted, and Tippy is ambiverted. Unbeknownst to Bel, Tippy has empathy for xem while Vanilla is happy to listen to other people talk. It's true that Bel has some problems involving selfishness, carelessness, and the need for popularity…but all of that stems from poor self esteem yet at the same time, his inflated self image. 

Tippy reads them like a book,

"Bel?"

"Yuh huh?" Xe looks at Tippy curiously.

"You're not bothering us, you know. You can talk as much as you'd like." Tippy gives xem a gentle and knowing smile. Vanilla nods,

"It's true. I know back when we disliked each other, I would say pretty nasty things. We were both at each other's throats… I want you to know that I take it all back. I don't hate you anymore, and I genuinely enjoy your company, Beleza."

Bel looks back and forth between the two fellas. He smiles and politely nods his head, then takes a drink from his coffee. Tippy softly touches the back of their hand,

"We mean it. You fit right in with us, you know? You're always welcome at our house."

"He's right. We're misfits. Look at us, we were all outcasts and outsiders. We didn't work at Lord D- I mean, Dio's mansion for no reason. If you ask me, I would call that fate." Vanilla tells them, "Bel, it's true. Anyone who has ever worked at Dio's mansion is an outcast in some way or another. But we found security in each other. We found comfort and safety in one another. To hell with the ones who shunned us for who we are." 

"Well said, Vans!" Tippy lightly claps, then he jokes at Bel, "You can tell he's a little passionate about this kind of stuff, haha!"

"I guess you guys are right… ugh, it just… I dunno." Bel sighs and looks at his coffee. Vanilla reaches for Bel's hand and caresses the back of it softly,

"You're always welcome in our home, Beleza. We mean that."

As the three of them walk out of the cafe, all smiles and laughs, Tippy lightly bonks his head on Bel’s shoulder. Bel giggles and playfully bonks xis head on top of Tippy’s. Vanilla smiles at the other two and teasingly bumps his shoulder into Bel. They look up at him, give a shy chuckle and touch his bicep,

“You guys are, like… really affectionate. I kind of figured since I’ve seen you two nuzzling and kissing all over each other all the time, ahahahaha!” 

“Yeah.” Vanilla rubs his neck with a slight smile, “It’s funny. I’ve always been a hopeless romantic. I never thought I would find a kindred spirit such as Tippy… and hm, now you.”

“Nilla! You should have known I can never get enough attention.” Bel teases. 

They all walk back to Vanilla’s black SUV. Bel feels a great sadness wash over him, he really enjoyed spending more time with his potential partners. Vanilla opens the passenger’s side for Tippy, then the middle door for Bel.

“I guess it’s time for you to take me back to the hotel, huh?” Bel gives them both a bittersweet smile. Vanilla and Tippy look at xem forlornly, then at each other. Vanilla speaks,

“That is correct… but it doesn’t mean we can’t still hang out for a while after that.” Bel looks up into Vanilla’s eyes, his smile still a little sad,

“I would really like that.” 

The three sing along to songs and make jokes the entire way back to the hotel where Bel is staying for a while. Xe takes them both up to his room, where Tippy proceeds to leap face first on xis bed and lays there for a while.

Bel and Vanilla both look at each other with an amused face, then burst out laughing. Bel jumps on the bed next to him, and Vanilla just sits down daintily on the bed. Tippy sits up and giggles with Bel. They both end up playfully wrestling with each other while Vanilla watches. He covers his mouth and chuckles at the two goofing around. Bel holds onto Tippy and watches him try to wriggle free,

“Hey! No fair, you’re stronger than me!” Tippy laughs. Bel smirks,

“Well, maybe you should hit the gym, little man!”

Vanilla chuckles at the two of them then crawls over,

“Don’t make me come over there. I’ll sit on you both!”

“Sounds good to me.” Tippy teases. Bel playfully tugs on Vanilla’s sweater, 

“Why don’t you join us, big guy?”

Vanilla leans over and lays next to them both. After a lull in the conversation, Bel speaks up,

“So… um…” They lean up and look over at the other two, “Ugh, this is so awkward…”

“What’s up, Bel?” Tippy asks.

“Well, like… you guys are so cute.” Bel covers his face, “I want to ask… for… like… a kiss… or something.”

Vanilla leans up and gently takes Bel’s hands away from their face. The two of them stare deeply into each other’s eyes. Vanilla lightly touches Bel’s chin and tilts his head,

“I’ve been thinking the same thing… Beleza…”

Tippy covers his mouth and watches the other two share a tender moment. Bel feels his cheeks get hotter as Vanilla leans in with his eyes closed. Their lips meet finally. Bel feels Vanilla’s warm, glossed lips, the taste of vanilla sugar flavored lip gloss glides over his mouth. Bel holds onto Vanilla’s shoulders and kisses him back. Vanilla slowly pulls away and gazes down at Bel with hooded eyelids. Bel is in a daze from kissing this man who he finds to be very very handsome. Vanilla smirks and gives a low chuckle,

“You look pleased…”

“O-oh! Yeah, I… oh my god, I just… that was uh… yeah.” Bel covers xis mouth, still tasting Vanilla’s lip gloss. Xe glances over at Tippy, wanting to kiss him as well. Silently, the two of them make their way to each other. Tippy leans up and Bel leans in. Their lips lock, even more gloss gets mixed in. The taste of Tippy’s raspberry flavored gloss glides over Bel’s lips, making xem lightly lick Tippy’s bottom lip. Tippy gets surprised but welcomes it, kissing xem deeper. Bel melts into Tippy’s kiss and softly touches his arm. The two of them pull away for breath, looking each other in the eyes. Bel averts his gaze, catching his breath a bit,

“Wow… you both really know how to kiss a guy, huh?”

Tippy smiles and wraps Bel up in a hug, which Bel enthusiastically returns, falling backwards and having Tippy lie on top of him. Vanilla jokingly lies on top of the other two, not putting his full weight on them though.

“Waugh! Vans, you’re crushing us!” Tippy teases him.

“I’m crushing you both with my love.” Vanilla kisses Tippy’s cheek and leans down to kiss Bel’s forehead. Tippy and Vanilla end up peppering Bel’s face with kisses on either side of his face, making him giggle.

“Oh yeah, I could get used to this!” Bel squeaks with delight.

The End

[tastesoftamriel]

Does Tamriel have hot chocolate? If so, what different kinds do you think would be served throughout the continent?

While not every race traditionally consumes cocoa, trade across Tamriel has meant that it's spread far and wide. Of course, every Province has a special way of preparing my favourite drink (after mead, of course).

Altmer

Hot chocolate? How about chilled? The High Elves love to mix their cocoa powder with crushed ice to make a deliciously refreshing beverage that suits the climate of Summerset perfectly. Usually made with bitter dark (or sometimes white) chocolate, these chocolate slushies are sometimes blended with espresso, berries, or whipped cream.

Argonians

Cacao plants grow well in Black Marsh, and hot chocolate is a local delicacy that's said to boost your health and stamina. Unlike other races, Argonians add very little sugar to their cacao, mixing it with hot water and coconut milk until a runny paste forms. It's very bitter, but I personally enjoy it more than coffee!

Bosmer

Non-Green Pact adherent Bosmer love their cocoa as much as anyone else, but of course, it has some Valenwood flair. If you've never tried crispy bacon bits on top of your whipped cream and hot chocolate, have you really even lived? Obscenely unhealthy, and absolutely a must-try for any hot chocolate lover.

Bretons

If you're picturing the ideal fancy hot chocolate with marshmallows, whipped cream, caramel sauce, cointreau...look no further than High Rock (of course). Served in towering glasses or mugs and laced with anything you could possibly desire in a hot chocolate, you'll find nothing but satisfaction with Breton-style hot chocolates.

Dunmer

House Hlaalu first popularised hot cocoa through trade, and of course the beverage has a local twist on Vvardenfell. Roasted cocoa beans are crushed together with fresh, sweet marshmerrow and a bit of comberry, and mixed with a diluted, sweetened scuttlecream. The end result is a bittersweet and flavourful beverage that hits the spot when you're ashed in!

Imperials

It wouldn't be an Imperial-style hot chocolate if it isn't thick enough to stand your spoon up in! More akin to a thick chocolate soup than a drink (not that it's ever stopped anyone from glugging it), the cocoa drink of Cyrodiil is usually accompanied by churros or sugar cookies for dunking.

Khajiit

Moon sugar caramel hot chocolate. I could just leave my description at that, because words cannot convey the sheer delight that this beverage summons. Cocoa beans are grown across Elsweyr, and the Khajiit know their chocolate. Topped with whipped coconut cream and a dash of cinnamon, this (very) sweet treat is immensely satisfying to drink.

Nords

Hot cocoa is a drink preferred by the wealthy of Skyrim, and it's never really caught onto the mainstream. Here, we simply mix melted milk chocolate into hot frothy milk, and sometimes add a splash of mead. Some Nords also like their hot chocolate topped with snowberries and cream, which is admittedly delicious.

Orcs

When we're talking about hot chocolate, the Orsimer take the "hot" bit very, very seriously. Dark cocoa powder is mixed with lard, milk and sugar, and heated to scalding temperatures to make sure the mixture does not congeal. It's almost impossible to drink without burning yourself, so proceed with caution if you dare!

Redguards

Spicy and aromatic, the Redguards flavour their cocoa with coconut sugar, vanilla beans, cinnamon, and a touch of chili powder to create the most divine hot chocolate. The mixture is stirred into hot goat's milk, and is sipped from small metal cups. Absolutely mouthwatering stuff.

[albakore]

Domesticity

Synopsis: small moments with the boys that make their heart flutter.

Characters: Kaeya, Diluc, Zhongli (gn!reader)

Warnings: none!

Kaeya

You didn’t hear the door open which was what usually alerted you to your lover’s arrival home. It was evening and even though you two hadn’t gotten the chance to grab dinner yet like you normally did, you couldn’t wait to find something to satiate your craving — more specifically, your craving for something sweet. So here you stood at your kitchen counter, not even bothering to take the extra few steps to sit down at the table, enjoying the cake you had picked up from the local baker in town.

“Oh, what’s this? Dessert before dinner?” Kaeya’s smooth voice right beside your ear made you jump, arms encircling your midriff. Even though you couldn’t see his expression at the moment you knew he had that mischievous glint in his eye that hadn’t faded from when he realized he could take advantage of you not noticing his entry.

“I’ve got an extra slice in there for you too.” You noted aloud before taking another bite of your own cake. You turned your head to observe Kaeya for a moment, just appreciating his beauty. You chewed slowly as your eyes drifted over the features of his face and hair before coming to complete the eye contact he had been holding one-sidedly with you for a few moments now.

“Aw, you bought me some cake too? Thank you angel.” He hummed before adding on, “I’d like to save mine for after dinner. I’d appreciate it if I could steal a bite from yours now though if you don’t mind.” He added on cheekily at the end. You rolled your eyes but nonetheless mumbled a small fine to indicate your approval, lips quirking up in an involuntary smile at your lovers antics. His fingers twitched as he had planned on grabbing the fork to do it himself but quickly stilled his arm when he observed your actions and concluded that you already had something else in mind. He watched as you cut off a piece before scooping it up on your fork, turning in his embrace with a hand under the fork to catch any stray crumbs. He opened his mouth compliantly and took the fork into his mouth without taking his eyes off you. You withdrew your fork from his mouth and turned back around to get another bite for yourself. He couldn’t help the feeling that arose in his chest of total adoration at the action. It wasn’t necessarily like you were taking care of him or anything of that nature, but the thoughtfulness still has butterflies erupting in his stomach. He smiled a soft, genuine smile often reserved only for you as he rested his head on your shoulder. “Thank you, princess.” He murmured softly into your skin, pressing a gentle kiss there.

Diluc

Though he rarely ever admits it out loud, he loves seeing you in his clothes. It feels like he’s providing for you in yet another way, and it’s a way he can provide from afar which is even better. Something about knowing it’s his coat that’s keeping you warm or his shirt that you decided you’d be most comfortable in. He often feels guilty about not being around as much as he should, but when he steps into you two’s shared bedroom and sees you lounging on your side of the bed atop the covers with his shirt hanging from your frame loosely and a book in hand, he can’t help but feel all the moments spent longing to be by your side are worth it.

“Good evening, darling. What are you reading?” He normally wasn’t the one to break the silence first, he understood as well as anyone that there’s not much that’s more annoying than having your peace and quiet disturbed unwillingly. But when your eyes flutter up to meet his with a soft expression on your face, he can’t help but feel like you don’t mind his intrusion.

“This old book I found on one of the shelves out there,” you motion toward the door behind him, “Adelinde said it was one of your childhood favorites so I thought I’d give it a read. Maybe it’ll provide me more insight on the mind of Diluc Ragnvindr.” His lips curl upward at your playful statement as he shrugs his coat off and places it over the desk chair that’s in his room.

“The mind of Diluc Ragnvindr?” He repeats with mirth laced in his tone.

“Precisely!” You chime, your smile growing wider as you watch Diluc slip off his shoes and loosen his tie.

“Well, I’ll offer you some insight into my mind. I think you’ll find it quite a boring place.” He glances back at you to see your focus is still trained on him. “I’d much rather have you in my arms right now than in my mind.” He doesn’t miss your little giggle as you carefully mark your page in the book and place it next to you before slipping off the bed. He takes in your appearance once again as you make your way toward him, realizing that not only are you wearing his shirt but you also seem to have found a pair of his socks to claim as well. And when you raise your arm to hug him, he notes that you don’t seem to be wearing pants either. His arms find their way around your waist and his hands lock together as the rest on your lower back. “Much better.” He muses, eyes looking at you with the softest expression this man could ever muster.

“Tell me, what is the mind of Diluc Ragnvindr thinking right now?” You ask, reaching up to brush a strand of his hair out of his face.

It’s thinking that I’m the luckiest man in the world right now, he thinks. It’s telling me that I’ve found the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. But instead, he settles for a simple and common phrase: “it’s thinking that I love you.” He replies softly after a few heartbeats.

Yes all the moments of longing to be by your side are worth it indeed, he can only hope you feel the same.

Zhongli

“Here you go.” You crooned, placing down a fresh cup of tea in front of him. His focus was currently on some paperwork that you had watched Hu Tao hand to him earlier so you can infer that he’s probably working on funeral parlor related documents.

“Thank you darling, would you mind bringing me th-“

“The cream?” You finished for him. “I already put some in there.”

“Ah, thank you. How about-“

“Sugar?” You conclude for him yet again, watching him fondly as he scribbles something down on his paper. “Already put that in also. Three cubes, just like you always add.” You watch as his focus finally breaks from his work and instead his gaze comes to rest on you. His hand absentmindedly reaches out for the spoon in his cup and stirs it a bit.

“How long did you steep it for?” He inquires curiously. Not that it really mattered to him, he was just intrigued by how much attention you seemed to pay to his routine, he was flattered even by your thoughtfulness.

“Five minutes. This particular kind of tea usually runs strong but I remember you mentioning that when you did less than that it was a little weak.” You seemed proud of yourself for the level of care you took in preparing his tea. You took one more step closer to him before brushing his bangs out of the way and planting a gentle kiss on his temple. “You’ve been working hard lately, it was the least I could do.”

Zhongli has spent centuries by himself, merely observing couples who act the way you two are now — but without the title of “geo archon” to accompany his name any longer, he sees no reason to deprive himself of the pleasure that is a romantic relationship any longer. His amber eyes stay trained on you a moment longer before he brings the cup to his lips, blowing some steam off the top and taking a sip. You watch the way a smile forms on his lips as he tastes the tea you so carefully prepared for him. “Thank you, (y/n). This is very kind of you.” His compliment brings a soft blush to your cheeks as you shrug it off.

“Don’t mention it.” You glance bashfully down at your hands. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Just as you step away his gloved hand catches yours and brings your knuckle to his lips. It’s a fleeting moment before his eyes are once again focused on the paper in front of him. He takes another sip of his tea and he swears it tastes better than when he makes it himself. Perhaps, as corny as it may sound, because this tea was made with one extra ingredient: love.

[bubblyhoney]

can i request a fic where sapnap takes the reader to his hometown? like the classic going to places he went to when he was younger. maybe playgrounds and ice cream shops idk

places i used to go

warnings: language of course, an allusion to virginap, my uneducated guess of what sapnap was like in highschool, tiny detail of long haired!sapnap, singular canon detail of underage drinking, jokish about marriage

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

words: 2191

A/N: you are a god, anon. i love comfy and nostalgic fics like these and it was so fun to write. if you hate it dont tell me but if you like it lemme know akskdjd

inbox/requests: open

-

The wind whips fast on your bare fingers, cool and quick and raising goosebumps in its wake. You blink in the haze of the early sunset, head lolled to the side of the headrest. It feels good.

“That’s where I went to high school.” Sapnap interrupts your thoughts and points a finger at a collection of tall brick buildings down a side street. The silver of the lettering is dull, but you can still feel the nostalgia.

“And you’re about to see the park that me and my friends used to hang out at after work and—actually, nevermind.” His arm drops to the middle console and he looks straight ahead with slightly pinker cheeks.

“Do what?” You ask, voice all sweet, and a grin grows on your face. You turn towards him and wiggle your eyebrows.

“Nothing. Homework.” He avoids your eye contact and hikes his hand up higher on the steering wheel. “Anyways— Do you want to get some food before we head out? I know a great place.”

You two were just coming to a close on your little trip to visit his family; it was his step-mom’s birthday and you decided to make a week of it. It was your first long-term trip with Sapnap, and also your first time meeting his dad’s side of the family. You were proud to say she loved you. His little sister took a little more effort to talk to you of her own volition, but soon enough she was on your side.

You have a couple hours to kill before making your flight back home, so Sapnap has taken it upon himself to give you a quick tour of his hometown.

“Yeah,” you decide, bottom lip popped out. “Can we get ice cream after?”

“Uh, duh.” The Neighbourhood’s Stargazing starts through the speakers and he reaches to turn it down. “I’m so ready to get home and sleep.” He stretches his neck in his seat, letting out an uncharacteristically inappropriate grunt when his bones pop. You make a disgusted face, nose wrinkling, but stretch your own back, slumping down in the seat. The day had been full of packing up and this horrible hike his dad liked to do early in the mornings, so you two were pretty beat.

“Okay, we’re here,” he announces three sleepy minutes later in his best attempt at a whisper. Lifting your head off of the corner of your seat, you blink in the setting sunlight as a yawn splits your face. “You’re so cute.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, and struggle to get your seatbelt off in that post-nap haze. You’d barely been asleep for thirty seconds, damn it. The air is a swampy heat when you step out of the car onto rocky gravel and nearly twist your ankle climbing over the curb. Sapnap catches you by the lower back, trying to hide his laugh but failing miserably. You slide him a dirty look, smacking his shoulder as hard as you can manage while limping towards the front entrance.

The door jingles when you two breach the doorway, alerting a bored-looking hostess that the circus has arrived. She looks at Sapnap a second longer than she should, eyebrows screwed together in silent confusion. But she leads the two of you to a booth near a large window, handing you sticky menus and promptly fucking right off to the host station. She nearly runs.

“Do you know her?” You ask, inconspicuously hiding your face in the search for their 24/7 breakfast menu. You feel his eyes on you.

“Don’t think so.” He leans on one elbow and slides his phone out of his jeans’ pocket. In the 25 seconds it takes for you to find their french toast and sides menu, he has browsed and closed his phone with an animatedly shocked look on his face.

“What?” You give him a weird look and put down the menu.

“I totally went to homecoming with that girl.” He eyes the hostess. You glance over at her again, meeting her gaze, and offer a polite smile. She turns away quickly, eyes wide.

“She’s cute,” you say, voice high and fake, and he drums his fingers on the tabletop as an amused look makes its way onto his face.

“Are you—?”

“What?” You reply right back.

“Nothing.”

Thank God the server comes up to your table then and starts asking for drink orders, or else you’d have to admit (sheepishly) you were a tiny eensy-weensy bit annoyed. Only a tad. But after requesting a Dr. Pepper and a water the conversation surrounding the nervous-looking hostess dies.

“I’m so hungry I think I feel my stomach shrinking.” You flop your head onto your arm on the table top and make a whiny noise into the stack of napkins your server left at the table. Sapnap rubs his thumb into the side of your forearm, touch warm and nearly dissolving the pangs of hunger and jealousy.

“You weren’t hungry an hour ago.” He lifts your hand to his face and plants a kiss on the back of it. Oh, pulling out the big guns, huh? “I would have made you something.”

You tilt onto your chin, pouting, and stare up at his cute face. His cute, scruffy, perfectly-kissable face.

“I think I got hungry staring at you for half an hour.” A mischievous grin grows on your previously-petulant face and he just shakes his head.

“I do have that effect,” he admits with cockiness in his tone, lifting his eyebrows and leaning back into the booth with his lips pursed.

The server returns with two glasses and takes your food orders onto their little yellow notepad. You chug the water down when they leave for the kitchen, getting your lap and chin thoroughly wet in the process. Sapnap just snorts at you and shoves the napkins your way.

“So,” you start, patting dry your jeans. “tell me what you were like in high school.” You cross your arms and settle into the booth, smirk on your lips.

“What I was like?” He parrots, sipping at his soda, looking thoughtful. “Firstly, a virgin.” You make a noise. Duh. Dude had a buzz cut his junior year. (You’ve seen the pictures. His step-mom particularly likes them.) “Secondly, I was actually— well, I wasn’t popular, but I had a lot of friends. We were all semi-athletic lonely band kids but we had fun. Had one girlfriend senior year but she went to Cal Tech in the fall and I didn’t. I, um, worked at a Dairy Queen in the summers and gained so much weight I had to lose all over again for Unified Track.”

“Relatable,” you comment, drinking noisily at your water. He fiddles with the paper straw wrapper and crunches it up into a ball. It goes soaring into your drink with a quiet “Kobe” and you just give him a look. He smiles toothily right back at you. “Stop being cute, I’m trying to listen to your story.”

“Oh, my bad,” he mocks. “Anyways. That’s what I was like in highschool.” You fish the paper ball out of your water and flick it wetly at his arm. It sticks and you choke on a laugh, cheeks puffed.

Two plates of warm food are set down loudly onto the table and you thank the server with a surprised smile, Sapnap mirroring you.

Two minutes of wordless chewing passes, minds occupied just by “food, me eat” instead of anything related to your previous conversation. You realize that Sapnap is one of the loudest chewers ever, and he realizes that you fail to notice the streak of maple syrup in your hair.

“C’mere,” he mumbles through a mouthful of omelet and hash browns and beckons you with his hand. You lean closer, chewing slowly, as he pats a napkin at the strands of hair trapped in syrup.

“Thanks, baby.” You take the napkin from him and pause your assault of the warm french toast before you to clean the sticky sugar out of your hair. He just watches you, half of a smile on his lips.

You two finish your food in record time. It’s borderline vacuum-like. There’s a short grace period where you just sit like two lazy cats, slumped down in the booth and holding your full stomachs. But the check comes soon after, and you both pay your way and are out of the restaurant without any mad dashes for the bathroom. A miracle, really, because of the American-like amount of butter you both consume.

“I’m a much more functional person now,” you mutter into the cotton of his shoulder, swinging your hand in his. He just hums in agreement.

“I guess we’re not getting ice cream, then,” he teases, and you just groan in response.

“I don’t feel like having diarrhea on a plane, unfortunately.” You sigh heavily when you have to split and get into your respective sides of the rental car.

The entire trip (somewhat roundabout because of the amount of side quests to show you things from his childhood) to the airport Sapnap is a chatterbox. He’s like this when he has sugar: either bouncing off the walls with energy or talking your ear off.

“That’s where my dad proposed to my step-mom. I was kinda young but I remember being surprised at how big the ring was— dude broke the bank for her.” It’s a little gazebo you catch a glimpse of through the trees in a park. It probably was an incredibly picturesque moment, and you can sense how much she must have loved it. With just meeting them this weekend, you can already see how much love those two have for each other.

You hope people can see how much you love Sapnap.

“Oh my God, it’s still there.” He points out the side of your window to what looks like a Dairy Queen that has been through World War 3. “My buddy Eric and I once spilled a gallon of that liquid ice-cream-shit all over the men’s bathroom.”

You shoot him a horrified look. “Why was it in the bathroom?”

He just smirks.

“—And that’s my Uncle Ron’s house. Had my first beer there.”

“And last, hopefully,” you add, pulling a disgusted face. The two story bungalow is cute, and one of your favorite colors: olive green. “That shit is nasty.”

He just shrugs and continues down the side street.

“Is this the park you were talking about?”

He pulls into the gravelly parking lot of a small clearing of tall trees, a picnic table and campfire sat squat in the middle. But he doesn’t respond, just turning the car off and climbing out. He reaches the passenger door without speaking, and opens it for you. You climb carefully out, confused.

“Come on.” He takes your hand and starts for a small path to the left of the picnic table. The mid-sunset shade envelopes the both of you.

“I hope this isn’t where you kill me.”

“No,” he snorts. “I just wanted to show you something.”

It’s just a few moments of stumbling through the damp underbrush before you’re coming face to face with a small, mossy pond that sits right underneath an incredibly old willow tree. He stops right on the edge of the rocky path and turns toward you.

“This your make out spot?” You ask between a grin as he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush to him. Your innocent smile fades when you feel the press of his lips to the side of your neck, light and ticklish. Oh.

“No,” he murmurs, and just breathes you in. “I came here once—the night before I graduated highschool. And I told myself when I really really loved someone I’d take them here with me.” He sways with you in his grasp, a gentle and song-less dance.

You grip his shoulder tighter in your hand and lean into him.

“That’s— awfully romantic, huh?” Your voice is quiet. Almost nervous. He just makes a noise of agreement.

“So here we are.” His voice is the opposite of yours, all strong and confident.

You two just move together for a moment. The sun breaks through the tree canopy, shining bright orange down onto the glassy surface of the pond. Crickets and frogs chirp back and forth as the willow vines swing in a cool evening breeze. You watch nature come alive around you, suddenly grateful for the man in your arms.

“Don’t propose,” you whisper, breaking the gentle tension. A laugh breaks the silence and he’s pulling away to look at you. Maybe in disbelief. A strand of hair falls into his eyes and you brush it away, fingers stilling on his temple and sliding down onto his cheek. Stubble scrapes against the skin of your palm and he stares at you through those meadow eyes.

You realize in that moment that he is exactly himself. Of course he is. He’s Sapnap, and everything that encompasses that. Dark and light and fiery and cool. He always has been, and always will be.

You realize you wouldn’t mind if he proposed.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. let me know what you think

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 109: Coffee Shop

"I can't believe this actually worked," Ron said as he stared at the line of customers that was out the door and halfway down the sidewalk.

"You're starting to sound like your better half," Harry teased as he made a perfect latte for the customer at the end of the counter.

Ron laughed, "I'm sorry but I just couldn't have imagined that a coffee shop would work out in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes." He shrugged and snagged one of the scones Harry had made that morning, "I assumed that people would have thought we were trying to pull something."

"We need to hire some help," he said as Lee sent another half a dozen drink orders in his direction.

"Right," Ron said. "I'll post something."

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

Five days later, after the shop had closed, Harry started going through applications. "Seriously, Ron?" he asked. "Is this really the applicant pool? There are dozens of applications here."

Ron shrugged, "What did you expect?" he asked through a mouthful of pastry. "You're Harry Potter."

He groaned and continued digging through. "Wait," he said, pausing on an application. "Did you see this?"

"No," Ron said without looking up from sorting through the crate of potions in front of him.

"This application says Draco Malfoy," Harry said, brow furrowed as he read through the application in his hands.

"Bin it," he said.

But the further Harry read through, the more sense it made. "I'm calling him in for an interview."

(Read more below the cut)

Draco Malfoy came in the next morning before the shop opened. He actually arrived before Harry, in fact.

"Sorry to ask you here so early," Harry said, unlocking the door and gesturing for Malfoy to enter ahead of him.

"It's no trouble," he said, voice soft and a touch hesitant in a way that Harry couldn't have ever imagined. "Thank you for considering my application."

This wasn't the boy he'd known. "Sure," Harry said with a nod as he turned on the lights. "Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

"Oh," Draco said, sounding surprised, "Umm, yes please."

He started brewing the coffee, "So, why do you feel that you're qualified to work here?" Harry asked.

"Right," he said, "Sorry, are you actually interviewing me?"

"Yeah," Harry said, looking over at Draco, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Isn't that why you were here?"

The other man shook his head, "Yes, of course. I'd very much like to apply for the job, it's just," he glanced down at his hands, shaking his head.

"Just what?" he asked curiously.

Draco glanced up, "Just that normally people don't actually want to interview me." He looked down again, avoiding Harry's gaze.

He cleared his throat and changed tactics, "I saw on your resume that you'd completed your Potions Mastery. Wouldn't you rather work within your own field?" he asked as he poured two cups of coffee. "Do you take cream and sugar?"

"Just sugar," Draco replied. "May I be blunt?" he asked as he accepted the cup from Harry.

"Please," he said, nodding toward the tables.

Draco took a seat and crossed one long leg over the other. "I can't find work in anything to do with creating potions or health care. Not that I blame them," he hastened to add, "But people don't generally want to trust an ex-death eater with their health."

"You were cleared of all charges," Harry protested.

A sardonic little grin appear on Draco's face, "You underestimate people's capacity to hate."

"Well, anyone with a Potion's Mastery ought to be able to manage making coffees and doing a little baking," Harry said, deciding right then and there that he was going to hire Draco Malfoy if he'd have them.

Draco blinked, "Yes," he said quickly. "Yes, I can."

"It's full time," Harry said. "We're able to offer 2 galleons an hour-"

"That's above minimum wage," Draco said, obviously surprised, "That's fairly uncommon for people who work in cafes."

He shrugged, "Perhaps, but it's the right thing to do. And whoever is working will split the tips. We're looking for a bit of flexibility where the hours are concerned. Lee, Ron, George, and Angelina rotate through to help with the busier hours but the position we're hiring for would be to cover more of the hours including opening duties and closing duties on a rotating schedule."

Draco nodded eagerly, "Yes," he said. "Yeah. I can do that."

"Good." Harry nodded, "Great, in fact. When can you start?"

"Are you serious?"

"Yes." Harry said before he took a sip of coffee.

"Sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I can start any time. I can start today, if you'd like."

"I would like that very much," Harry replied. "The shop is only open for 8 hours, but we're in an hour before and an hour after so once you're trained in we'll stagger a bit."

"Thank you," he said. "Seriously, I don't even know what to say."

He gave him a smile, "Don't thank me yet. You haven't been through a morning rush." With a little chuckle he stood up, "Let me show you opening procedures."

"Alright," Draco nodded, standing up and following Harry back behind the counter. "Potter," he said hesitantly.

"Harry," he corrected, glancing over at him from where he was pulling out aprons for the two of them.

"Harry," Draco said, "Sorry."

"Stop apologizing," he said, "You're welcome to ask any questions you have."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Honestly?"

Draco nodded.

"Because you were the only applicant that I felt like wasn't going to be more trouble than you were worth."

He swallowed, "I feel it's only fair to warn you that I have a rather undesirable effect on business. I wouldn't promise that I won't be more trouble than I'm worth."

Harry couldn't help but smile at him, "What I mean is that you are the only candidate who wasn't applying simply because you wanted to get close to me." He patted Draco on the shoulder, "I trust you."

He was surprised to find that he was telling the truth.

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

Draco learned quickly. He was a good listener, he had a good memory of what repeat customers wanted, he was friendly and nearly always in a good mood, and he made food and drinks accurately. Harry couldn't have been more pleased.

They had the odd run in with people who didn't take kindly to being served by Draco but Harry was quick to nip that in the bud.

"I'm sorry," Draco said, after the first time Harry had kicked out a customer who had berated him."

"What on earth for?" he asked in befuddlement.

Draco was fiddling with his apron strings, "Chasing away your business-"

"Don't be ridiculous," he replied, "I have no interest in that sort of business," he bumped Draco's shoulder with his. "You're worth a hundred of him."

"Thanks," he whispered.

"Don't mention it," Harry replied.

----------

The longer they worked together, the more Harry liked Draco Malfoy. He was clever and funny, he worked hard, and he never made Harry feel like he was anything other than a guy who worked in a coffee shop. It also didn't hurt that he looked more attractive than anyone had the right to in slacks, an apron, and a button up shirt with rolled up sleeves.

One night, when Draco was supposed to have left a few hours before close but ended up staying because of how swamped they were, Harry couldn't help but blurt, "Can I get you dinner?"

Draco stopped wiping down the counter and turned to look at Harry, "You don't have to do that. I don't mind staying to help."

"Not because you stayed late," Harry said, "Just," he shrugged "because."

"Because?"

He nodded, "Because I like you," he confessed.

A delightful blush covered Draco's cheeks.

"I'd like to get to know you better," he said. "If you'd like?"

Draco smiled and nodded. "I'd like that very much."

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

Within a year, Harry's coffee shop inside of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes became Harry and Draco's coffee shop.

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

Day 108: Ideal | Day 110: Rough

[ifmywishescametrue]

omg now im jealous about all of the breaking up and making up stories!!! they're all so wonderful but is it okay to ask for a steve/tony one? i know you've made one inspired by ts (amazing) and this time, maybe they meet/bump in a coffee shop? idk angst potential but also hopeful/happy ending aahhh. your stories are amazing esp ivy!!! thank you! <3

thank you so much!! it ended up being more cute than angsty, but I hope you like it!

Steve's pencil drifts idly across the page of his sketchbook with no end vision in mind. He's killing time until Nat shows up, which could be anywhere between the next five minutes and the next two hours with her vague text that simply said running late. When he looks up to reach for his near empty coffee cup, he freezes with his hand in the middle of the air.

At first he thinks it might not even actually be him. Tony's hair was never quite this well styled before, always a tangled mop on his head that sometimes fell into his eyes. Steve used to spend hours sometimes running his fingers through those wild curls while Tony slept on his chest. It's been tamed since then, cut shorter and held into place by some type of product. The facial hair is new, too. He remembers a time when it would always come in patchy and uneven, and Tony would pout as he shaved away the latest attempt at looking older than he was. The eighteen year old boy in oversized hoodies and stained jeans he met years ago has been replaced by a man in a well-pressed, expensive looking suit with a leather briefcase, like he just stepped out of a boardroom a minute ago. From what Steve has read about his life since they broke up, he probably did.

Steve stares without fully meaning to and for much longer than he would have if it was intentional. He watches him order his drink and smiles when the barista’s eyes widen at what he knows is an overly complicated order, wondering if Tony ever did finish his quest to find that perfect combination of syrup flavors, sugar, and cream that only he would ever like.

He catches the double take when Tony notices him there, right as he’s taking his first sip of the iced drink, and the cough when he chokes on it is anything but subtle. Steve looks away with red cheeks and tries to pretend he wasn’t staring, but it’s a futile effort. He can’t say he minds, though. Not when it means Tony walks over to him and unceremoniously drops himself into the chair across from him.

His mouth forms a familiar smirk, and he says, “You seem to have a staring problem, Rogers.”

Suddenly, Steve is nineteen again, falling hopelessly in love with the boy in his introductory chemistry class. It felt sort of like fate at first when they were paired together for the final project, and Steve remembers thinking that his chances were shot to hell when Tony sat down next to him and said those exact words. He never was any good at being discreet.

Back then, for that first time, all he could manage was a stuttered apology in response. But eventually it became their thing. Something just for them that no one else could ever understand. When Steve would watch him from across the room at parties, because he knew how much Tony loved having his eyes on him, and Tony would saunter over with that same smirk and those same words, there was only ever one reply.

“Guess I just really like what I see,” Steve says, and Tony’s face splits into a grin that matches Steve’s own. He’s still beautiful, even if it’s different now. Less softness to his appearance and more defined edges and sharp lines, but heart stoppingly beautiful nonetheless. He doesn’t quite say as much, but he does comment, “You do look good, by the way. Different, but good.”

Tony’s smile softens into another familiar one. It’s his smile for compliments, when he’s thinking self-deprecating thoughts that he won’t voice. Instead he’ll turn the attention back around, shifting the spotlight.

“So do you. The good part, but not really the different part.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair, contemplating if not looking different contributes to the good or not. He should look different somehow, shouldn’t he? After two and a half years not seeing each other in person and what feels like a lifetime’s worth of heartbreak in between then and now, he should look as changed as he feels. As changed as Tony looks now, like he’s someone new entirely. He’s pretty sure the t-shirt he’s wearing now is one he owned back then.

“Thanks,” Steve says anyway, for lack of anything better.

Just before it has the chance to fall into awkward silence, Tony says, “I didn’t know you were in New York these days. I would’ve called or something if I’d known.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Would you have?”

“I don’t know, maybe. I would’ve thought about it, at least. You know, stalked you online, found your number, dialed and hung up a few times.”

Steve laughs, fiddling with the straw wrapper from earlier to give himself something to look at other than Tony. “I moved back last year. Thought about calling, but I figured you were busy. Didn’t want to waste your time.”

It’s only a partial truth. He did think about calling when he came to Brooklyn after his year-long internship in London ended, but he didn’t want to know what Tony would say if he did. If he would have some sort of transparent excuse to avoid seeing him or if it would be an outright rejection.

“I would’ve made time for you,” Tony says, so painfully sincere that Steve has to look up again to meet his eyes.

He wonders if Tony is thinking of that last fight, if it’s a purposeful or coincidental reference to some of what Steve said. It was by far the worst fight they’d ever had, all over the phone with an ocean between them and so many things that Steve still wishes he could take back. Accusations flew on both sides until the entire thing was blown so completely out of proportion, yet impossible to reel back in. He should have just hung up the phone before it went that far. Before he could tell Tony that he always felt unimportant compared to everything else in his life, which was sometimes true but entirely unfair. Before Tony could say that Steve talked about Peggy in the same way he used to talk about him, and he didn’t have to finish the thought for Steve to understand the implication.

“Are we talking about it?” Steve asks.

Tony shrugs, feigning casual, but just the corner of his lip is between his teeth in that way that means he’s nervous and trying to hide it. “I guess that depends on what this is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we said back then that maybe it was just bad timing. You were in London, and I was in Boston until graduation, and it was always going to be a bit of a mess, but there was always that someday chance, right? So maybe this is someday, and we talk about it, and try to get it right this time,” Tony says. “Or maybe that was just something we said and didn’t mean, and I ask you about your life, and you ask about mine, and we talk and laugh and pretend that we’re friends again for the next half hour or so before we go our separate ways.”

It’s an easy choice, really. If there’s one thing that Steve’s sure of, it’s that it’s always been him and always will be.

“I don’t want to go separate ways,” Steve says. “The first time was hard enough, and I never really moved on. I got better, but I don’t think I’ve been more than just fine in a long time.”

Tony nods slowly, “I kept thinking you would call, you know. Back then. I thought you would call and tell me that it was a mistake and it would be okay again, but you never did. Although, I guess I could’ve called, too.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“For the same reason as you, probably. I couldn’t risk it if you didn’t want me again. Couldn’t risk getting back together just to break up again, either. We weren’t exactly the poster children for making long distance work.”

“We were terrible at it, weren’t we?”

Tony’s smile is tinged with the pain of the past. “It’s kind of funny because I remember thinking that it might be a good thing for us when you told me about London. Can’t get sick of somebody if they’re not always around.”

“You thought I would get sick of you? You never told me that.”

“Why would I?” Tony laughs. “Just put all my insecurities on display like that? Come on, Steve, that doesn’t sound like me, does it?”

Steve laughs with him briefly, “No, but I could’ve told you back then that it wasn’t possible. Told you that I wanted you around all the time and I missed you every second you were gone. I might’ve even stayed if you had told me. I was thinking about it, you know? I almost turned the internship down. Probably would’ve if you’d asked even once for me not to go.”

“It was your career. I never would’ve asked you to give that up for me.”

“There would have been something else. Another job somewhere closer to you.”

“I still wouldn’t have asked,” Tony says. “And I would have told you to go if you’d said you were staying.”

Steve knows that, which is why they never talked about it much before he left. Tony pretended to be happy for him, and Steve pretended to be happy for himself, when really it already felt like the beginning of the end. A year apart is longer than it seems, and it didn’t take more than a few months to realize it.

“I never…” Steve starts, trailing off when he doesn’t quite know how to finish the sentence. “There was never anyone else. Not while we were together, and never with Peggy.”

“I know. I knew back then, too, that you were never that kind of person. Jealousy’s just a real bitch sometimes.”

“There’s really not been anyone since, either,” Steve adds, and Tony’s mouth quirks into a half smile. “I mean, a couple of people here and there, but nothing like what we were.”

“There’s not a whole lot out there like what we were, is there?”

Steve smiles, leaning back in his chair, “No, there’s really not. But I do remember reading a rumor that you got engaged.”

Tony groans, and it’s so much like he used to sound when he was nine pages deep into a ten page essay at three in the morning that Steve has to laugh.

“Don’t you dare laugh. That rumor haunts me, Steven,” Tony says, belied by a grin that he seemingly can’t control. “Do you know how I found out about my supposed engagement? When my mother called and asked why I hadn’t told her I was planning on proposing.”

“So I’m still the only person you’ve ever proposed to,” Steve teases, just for the way he knows Tony will get indignant about it.

“How many times do I have to tell you that one didn’t count?”

“You were on one knee, you asked a question, and you had a ring. All the boxes are checked, sweetheart.”

“It was a blue raspberry ring pop, and you ate it,” Tony argues. “Not to mention that I actually asked you to marry me someday in the distant future. That’s not a proposal.”

Steve laughs again, thinking about that day in the middle of their living room, just a few weeks before Steve got the call that would take him to London and change everything. It was almost like a joke, and for anyone else it would have been. Not for them, though, because Steve remembers the look in Tony’s eyes when he dropped down in front of him, spur of the moment and impulsive like almost everything was back then. He remembers how it still felt like a promise, even if it wasn’t the real thing.

“But I said yes, which I think technically means we’re still engaged.”

“Absolutely not,” Tony scoffs. “It’s going to be a production when we get engaged. Elaborate and planned and romantic as hell.”

“When, huh?” Steve grins.

Tony’s cheeks pinken a touch, but he doesn’t take it back. He reaches for Steve’s hand on the table. “Yeah, when. Is that alright with you?”

Steve threads their fingers together, holding on tight. “That’s alright with me.”

[kirishimaswife2819]

This is my very 1st request, I hope you won't have trouble answering it! May I ask for headcanons of Bakugou, Midoriya, Todoroki and Kirishima in a Coffee Shop!AU? I don't mind if they own coffee houses, are baristas or frequent customers! Thank you so much for heeding my petition, have a nice day and take care!

Them in a Coffee Shop AU (+Quirkless AU) || Midoriya, Bakugou, Kirishima, and Todoroki

Masterlist 1 || Masterlist 2

↠Author’s Note: Hi! I also made this a quirkless AU so it made more sense with the story. Anyway, thanks for requesting! I hope this okay and I hope you like it. -Danielle <3

↠Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugou, Eijiro Kirishima, and Shoto Todoroki x Reader

↠Summary: Coffee shop AU with Izuku, Katsuki, Eijiro, and Shoto

↠Genre: Fluff

↠Word Count: 2.1k 

↠Warnings: None

↠Notes: Idrk know how coffee shop hours work, so just pretend like they work however I said, okay?, also y/o=your order

Izuku Midoriya:

Izuku works at a fairly popular coffee shop, and he’s literally the best worker there

Unlike most of the workers, he pays a lot of attention to the customers and what they specifically ask for, and he’s also always so polite, he was only ever rude to a customer once, but that was because she was being ruder, so it was okay

He also rarely ever gets orders wrong, and when most people come there, they ask specifically for him to make their coffee, so he gets pretty overwhelmed throughout the day and rarely gets a break

Most of the time he didn’t really pay much attention to the customers that asked specifically for him, but most of them straight up flirted with him, and he’s made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t interested in getting a significant other

That was until he met you

Normally, Izuku worked afternoon shifts, so from about one in the afternoon to nine at night (this was partially because he was the only one who closed up the shop correctly), but they recently began changing the schedules up and he got stuck with six to two in the afternoon

He didn’t really have a problem with waking up early, since he normally woke up fairly early to go for a run, not as early as he was now, but still pretty early

It was his first time working that shift when you came in for your morning coffee

You were playing on your phone when he called out to the next in line, you looked up and proceeded forward and to the counter, you looked up expecting the girl that normally worked in the morning but instead it was Izuku

“Are you new here? I’ve never seen you before,” You asked, clearly confused. Izuku gave you a small smile, and his face got a little red, you were really attractive, despite obviously just waking up

“No, I’ve always worked here. I just normally have afternoon shifts but they changed it,” Izuku replied.

“Oh, are you going to be working in the mornings from now on?” You asked, and after a nod, you spoke again, “Okay, well my name’s Y/n L/n, you can call me Y/n if you want, I come in here every morning and I’ll take a y/o.”

He immediately made your order and it was the best that it ever has been

After that day, you and Izuku both got secretly excited to see each other every morning, and you took got on first name basis with each other

You two ended up developing an odd sort of bond, whenever you came in, you two acted like best friends despite only seeing each other for about fifteen minutes every day

You started drinking your morning drink while at the shop, and you always sat at the bar so you could converse with Izuku while he was working

Eventually you two ended up exchanging numbers and hanging out outside of the coffee shop, and then he asked you on a date, and then shortly after that you began dating

You still went in every morning even after you started dating, and everybody working there thought that you were the cutest couple ever

Katsuki Bakugou:

Katsuki comes to get coffee every morning, and everybody at your shop knows this, and they all play rock paper scissors the day before to see who gets to deal with him the next day because he’s a pretty tough customer

He always finds something wrong with the coffee that he gets and he will make the barista remake it until it’s perfect, and he’s made multiple baristas quit because of this

And I know what you’re thinking “why doesn’t your boss just ban him from the shop” but your boss is a bigger asshole than he is, and he has chose Bakugou’s side every time that he’s been brought into it, so the workers just stopped trying to get him to help after a while

The two of you met on your first day working there, since you had tried to defend Katsuki when you first met them, saying that he couldn’t possibly be that bad, when they tried warning you about him, so they forced you to deal with him on your first day on the job

“Good morning,” you said, smiling at the blonde that came in, as he stared at his phone, he didn’t recognize your voice so he looked up and he was pretty surprised to see how attractive you were

“Morning,” he replied, hiding the fact that he liked you, and turning his phone off, before placing it in his pocket

“What can I get for you?” You asked, still smiling at him, hoping that he really wasn’t as bad as all your co-workers said. He told you his order, before giving you his name as well

All your co-workers were listening in and were shocked when he didn’t add on a rude “And don’t forget the extra cream” or “And if you fucking add too much sugar again, I’m calling your boss and complaining”

You made his coffee, before setting it on the counter, and tapping a few things on the screen, and giving him his total price, which was around seven dollars

He took out his wallet, before placing a fifty dollar bill on the counter. This was also strange to your co-workers because Bakugou never paid before he got a sip of his coffee, in case he wanted a refund or for them to remake it/give it to him for free

You picked it up and went to give him his change, but he stopped you

"Keep the change."

"What?" You asked

"I said, keep the change, you fucking deaf or something?"

"Uh, no, but sir, you handed me a fifty."

"I fucking know what I did, do you want it or not?"

"Yeah, I want it," you said, grabbing the change and immediately putting it into your pocket, "Thank you, sir, and have a good day."

"Yeah, whatever," he replied, picking up his coffee and leaving

As soon as he was gone, all of your co-workers were around you, asking you what the hell you did and why he wasn't rude to you, and you could only answer them with a shrug because you honestly had no idea

After that day, you were the only person that ever made his coffee because he was actually nice to you, and because of you he saw how it wasn’t really that easy to do the job

He figured that they just always messed up because they weren’t trying but they were probably just stressed, and it was probably partially his fault

Eventually, he ended up asking you out on a date and you two got to know each other and then eventually you started dating

Eijiro Kirishima:

Like Izuku, Kirishima works at a coffee shop, he just isn’t the most perfect worker ever, but that’s alright because nobody expects him to be perfect

He makes his occasional mistakes, and I would probably give him a 7/10 when it came to doing his job, but he gets an 11/10 for customer service

He’s not just polite, he’s also really friendly and if you just simply have a conversation it’ll feel like you’ve known him forever

He doesn’t really notice if anybody is flirting with him, he just assumes they’re being friendly and is friendly in return, but sometimes Kirishima’s friendliness can come off as flirting, even when he doesn’t realize, so sometimes he has had to reject somebody asking him out, and apologize for not realizing what they were doing

He never specifically tried flirting with anybody, not until you at least, he purposely flirted with you, because immediately after glancing at you, he knew that you were the one

Or that’s what he assumed, you just looked like his type, and he immediately wanted you

Your old coffee shop had shut down and this was the closest one to where it was, so you started going there instead

“Hi!” He immediately greeted you, happily, despite it being seven in the morning

“Um, hi?” You asked, in return. In your last coffee shop the worker that you normally got was pretty vague, and normally talked in a monotone voice, so Kirishima’s happy and cheerful voice was a bit of a surprise

“How are you doing this morning?” He asked, tapping something on the screen

“Good,” you replied, “Do you guys have y/o?”

“Yup, what size would you like?”

“Medium,” you replied, and he tapped something on the screen, before replying

“Okay, that’ll be $5.30, but it’s on me,” he said, smiling at you, picking up a medium disposable cup, “What’s the name?”

“Wait, what?” You asked, referring the first part of what he said, not the question

“I asked what your name was,” he explained, giving you a smile

“No, why is it on you?” You asked

“Oh, I always pay for somebody’s coffee if I find them cute,” he replied, causing your face to heat up

“You find me cute?” You asked, and then he nodded, “Sir, I just woke up a little over half an hour ago. There are huge bags under my eyes, there is no way that you find me cute.”

“Sure there is! Because I do, now what’s your name?”

“Whatever, it’s Y/n,” you replied, and he used a sharpie to write the name on the cup, before going to get your order ready

And he returned with it, giving you a smile, and telling you goodbye

You thanked him for the coffee and once you returned to your car, you read the receipt and found that his number was written at the bottom along with “call me :)”

And that’s exactly what you did

Shoto Todoroki:

Like Bakugou, he’s also a frequent customer, but not every day, he normally comes in every other day, or every three days

He was normally pretty vague, not wanting to interact too much with the barista, he wanted to get in and get out in as little time as possible

He didn’t have a problem correcting the barista if his order was wrong, and he didn’t expect it for free. He just expected them to remake without him having to pay extra

He also didn’t make a big deal if there was a little too much cream or sugar, they probably just added a bit too much, and that’s pretty easy to do

Shoto never really paid much attention to the barista he got and he didn’t really care about who it was, until he walked up to the counter and you were there

“Good morning, what can I get for you?” You questioned, tapping something on the screen

“Morning,” he said, and then he proceeded to make his order

“Alright? And your name?” You questioned, holding the sharpie up to the cup

“Shoto,” he replied, surprising the barista next to you that was listening in. Shoto never used his first name and it surprised her because he normally just said either “Todoroki” or “I’ll be standing right here, just hand it to me, please”

“Alright, Shoto,” you said, using his name, “I’ll be right back with your coffee.” He nodded in acknowledgement and stood off to the side, watching you as you made his order

“Here you go,” you said, handing it to him, “Sorry if I messed it up. I’ve never made one of those before. I’m new here.”

“That’s alright,” he replied, taking a sip. He hid the fact that he didn’t like it, because you had in fact messed something up, maybe you didn’t add enough of something, either way, he faked it with a smile, “Thank you, have a good day.”

Later that day, your co-worker informed you that she was watching you while you made it, since she knew that you never made one before, and she told you that you messed it up. Then she told you a little bit about Shoto and how it was obvious that he had a crush on you

The next day he came in, you apologized to him, and he brushed it off, saying that it was alright

You made a pretty bold move and left your number on the receipt with a little note “call me sometime?”

He did just that the same night when he got home from his work, and you two agreed to go on a date

[lilcherrytree]

D. GRAY MAN Komui Lee x F! Reader

(I’m basing this off a dream I had)

Komui needs some more love and appreciation tbh, so I’m here to provide it myself, and hopefully start something

LATE NIGHT CUDDLES:

Being an exorcist came with a lot of challenges, but you didn’t expect love to be one of them.

You had fallen hard for your best friends brother, Komui Lee.

Lenalee didn’t know this yet, but one day when you asked how she made his coffee, she seemed to piece the pieces together.

“I can teach you, sure! But why do you want to know?”

“I-I just wanna make him happy...that’s all.”

Maybe you should’ve phrased that better, because once Lenalee gasped, you knew you had screwed up.

“OH MY GOSH! You like my brother don’t you? The two of you would be so cute!”

“Y-you think so? You’re not mad that I like him?”

“Mad! I’m ecstatic that someone finally likes that clingy brother of mine! Finally! Someone else he can channel his clingy self on!”

“Of course you had an ulterior notice.” You deadpan, But you weren’t really surprised.

“Well yes, but I also genuinely think the two of you would be so good for eachother! Especially since if he’s in a pinch with an Akuma, you can come to his rescue~”

“I doubt that will happen often though.”

“Be more positive than that Y/n! I totally support you getting into a relationship with him! Now come on, I’ll show you how I make his coffee~”

You couldn’t help but feel as though you’ve signed a pact with your best friend, but if by some miracle she does get you together with the robot and sister obsessed maniac, you would go to her for all of you future dating advice.

After showing you how much cream, milk, and sugar to put in Komui’s coffee, you decided to make a slight suggestion,

“Is it alright if I add in something else, so that he won’t assume you made his coffee?”

“Great idea! What do you have in mind?”

“Maybe...some vanilla?”

At this, Lenalee face palms herself in the face.

“Oh my gosh, how come i never thought of that?! He loves vanilla! But I guess I kinda forgot that he did...how horrible of me...don’t worry though! I won’t take your recipe for his coffee, it’s all you sister!”

“I-I think it’s a bit too soon to be calling me that, don’t you?”

“Nonsense Y/n! Now get in that messy office of his and give him that coffee!”

You nodded, trying to settle your nerves as you walked into the office with Lenalee, handing each hard working person a coffee.

When it came time to give Komui his coffee, you picked up his signature bunny cup up gingerly, your hands slightly shaking nervously as you hand Komui the coffee.

“H-here’s your coffee Komui.” You stutter, but you had no time to feel embarrassed by it since you were eager to see his reaction on the coffee.

“Thank you Y/n, a cup of Lenalee’s coffee always makes my day!~” Komui hums happily as he takes a sip of the coffee.

Suddenly, his face turned serious.

“This isn’t Lenalee’s coffee...who made this.”

Lenalee nudged you playfully in the side, giving you a supportive thumbs up to give you the courage you so desperately needed.

Slowly, you raised your hand.

“It was me...I made your coffee Komui.”

Komui’s eyes widen in surprise, and then he gently set down his cup.

“You did? Really? Hm, well I must say...” Komui drifts off, adjusting his glasses.

You felt scared, did he somehow not like it?

“THAT IT’S THE BEST COFFEE I’VE EVER HAD!”

Never mind.

The Komui that usually smothered Lenalee in affection suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist, affectionately rubbing his head on yours.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU WERE SO AMAZING AT MAKING SUCH DELICIOUS COFFEE?! THIS IS THIS FIRST TIME I’VE HAD SOMEONE ELSE’S COFFEE AND DIDN’T SPIT IT OUT!”

“I-I uh, thank you?” You sputter our, feeling the heat quickly rise to your cheeks.

“I’M SO PROUD OF YOU MY PRECIOUS LITTLE Y/N!~ YOU DID SUCH A GOOD JOB~”

“P-precious? I-what?” You question, confused and unable to produce a sentence due to your currently malfunctioning brain.

If making a good coffee was all it really took to win over his affections, you should’ve tried this method forever ago.

Lenalee was silently supporting you from the background, while the rest of the guys there seemed to be relieved for whatever reason.

“If Komui has a woman, Maybe he won’t annoy us as much.” One joked.

“True, but it sucks that Komui of all people got a girlfriend before me.” Another one said, to which the rest of the single guys in the room nodded in agreement.

“From now on, please make my coffee my dear Y/n~” Komui pleads, suddenly stopping from his affectionate assault and giving you those puppy dog eyes of his.

“Well...okay.” You agreed, unable to say no.

“YAY! Y/n’s special coffee!” Komui cheered like some little kid getting his favorite candy.

You couldn’t help but laugh as he assaulted you with more affection hugs. Being childish was one of his lovable charms.

Nothing else significant happened between the two of you, which you expected but you still felt slightly disappointed.

Night time came, and you laid asleep in the comfort of your bed, until suddenly someone burst into your room.

“L-LENALEE! I HAD A BAD DREAM!” Komui sobs dramatically.

You sat up and rubbed your eyes, recognizing that overly dramatic voice from anywhere.

“Komui?” You respond lightly, still tired from your sudden awakening.

Suddenly, Komui seemed to go back to a normal state once he realized that this was not, in fact, Lenalee’s room.

“Oh...Y/n. Apologies, I didn’t mean to awaken you like this. It was hard to see in the dark, and I thought this was Lenalee’s room.”

“Hm...it’s alright, you didn’t mean to.” You tiredly smile.

“I’ll just be out of your hair now so you can have a good rest..”

“Well...since you’re already here, won’t my comfort be good enough to soothe you?” You question.

To be honest, you were still way too tired to even be embarrassed by asking such a question, but clearly Komui wasn’t.

His face flushed lightly, as he suddenly seemed shy.

“I wouldn’t want to be a burden to you...”

“You could never be a burden to me Komui. Now, come lay down.”

You patted the spot next to you in your bed, silently hoping he would accept your invitation.

Komui seemed to be hesitant, but eventually, he joined you in your bed, under your blanket.

You rolled over to face him, which made Komui blush when he realized how close the two of you actually were.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“W-What?” Komui stutters out, falling out of the daze he was in when he saw your pretty face so close to him.

Gosh, was your face always so pretty? How come he’s never noticed before? You were so stunning!

“Your nightmare.” You say, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“O-oh...right. Well...in my nightmare, the person I held precious to me died before my very eyes.”

“Lenalee right?”

“Yeah....but then, I witnessed you die too. You’re very strong and capable and I know that...but you chose to die in order for my life to be spared, and it hurt. It hurt so much Y/n...”

Komui sniffles as he curls up his body to make him smaller as a small tear trickled down his face.

“It’s okay Komui, it was just a dream. Your sister is alive, and I’m right here by your side, perfectly fine. You’ll be okay Komui, we’re both still here.” You say gently, stroking his hair to soothe him.

“You’re right...” Komui drifts off, meeting your warm gaze.

You were about to fall asleep again, assuming that Komui was fine now, but he suddenly spoke up again,

“A-actually before you go to sleep...” Komui drifts off, his face gradually becoming more and more red.

“Hm?”

“C-can I ask for cuddles? You know...to hug all of the scary nightmare monsters away...”

You chuckle, heart feeling warm and fuzzy from your love for this childish man, snuggling your head onto his chest as his hair tickled your forehead.

“For you Komui, I’ll cuddle away all of your worries.”

Komui gazed warmly at your frame as he hugged you back, welcoming the comfortable warmth you provided. A warmth that made him feel safe.

“I feel like a fool for figuring this out so late.” Komui chuckles as he strokes your head. You were already fast asleep.

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead and held your face gently with his hand.

Once he lightly pressed his forehead onto yours, he said in a whisper,

“I love you Y/n.”

And fell asleep.

However, tomorrow he had full intentions on showing how much he loved you, along with taking you on a long overdue date.

A/n: my first one shot, so sorry if it sucked 😭

[cosmiclatte28]

Baking! (Yuta x you)

a/n : heyyo it’s friday, let’s have some “me” time and enjoy some imagine with Yuta! Idea came from @yutahoes comment on previous post HOT PATCHED

warning : none! suggestive, how you ended up with a bun in the oven! (your beloved Nami), and of course 2020 was a baking year and I am more than willing to share you the recipe i am referring to for this story! DM me :D also i got a bit too carried away :) but it’s gonna be fun :D

tagging : @2-3-t-i @yutahoes @ailoveyuta

with that said.. enjoy your scene! 

Ever since the pandemic started and staying at home becomes a mandatory rule, you and your fiance, Yuta have been trying to overcome boredom with all possibilities. On the first month of staying home, you two are very excited about having “leisure” time while working at home. Both of you are delighted by the fact that you don’t have to wake up early, drive in the busy streets, and you just have to slip into your proper clothes when there is a board meeting. Considering your job is a magazine editor, you have meetings but luckily not every day.

Second month, you start to do yoga and exercises with Yuta every time he is bored, and he has nothing to do. Well, his comeback is still in preparation, so he only comes for regular practice and always got home when your office hour ends.

Fourth months, you pick up a new hobby and because your magazine company needs to make a new fresh content that suits the situation, the team comes up with a baking page. You are assigned to make the content, including taking pictures and trying the recipes your team made. You also have to do the editing but there’s help with that. You take the challenge, though you never bake before you see this as the perfect opportunity to start a new hobby. Things were great, the content is rising in demand since the world is baking suddenly! You got your raise and you enjoy doing this until your silly ass fell from challenging yourself to a wild yoga pose. You hurt your arms, they are a slightly fractured and you cannot make your baking content for the first three weeks of recovery, but you are so irritated to just stay in front of the laptop and watch your other friend make the pictures and cakes. So, when you can no longer hold yourself back, you plead the director board to give you back the baking section and they did love your job so you won the part back.

“Yuta can you come home earlier today?” you question the man who already wears his mask and has his training bag ready on his shoulder.

“Me?? I guess I’m done after lunch, I only have to practice singing today. Why?” he asks you back

You put on your sweetest smile “Don’t you want to try baking? I need some help with the rubric.”

Yuta’s eyes twinkle, it’s been his wish to try baking but because of practice and the amount of tools to wash and lack of time he hasn’t been able to do it. Now that you are offering him, he thinks he can seize the opportunity.

“Okay, I’ll try, who knows NCT will have a baking vlog after this, might flex about my skills” he smirks and you only grin at his cockiness.

“Okay, you can go.” You push him away after kissing his cheek and blushing when he winks at you and disappear behind the door.

Today you just have to wait for the team to send you the ingredients and recipes. You wonder what you’ll bake today no, what Yuta will bake today.

He was lucky the baking procedure he has to do today is easy. Simple lemon cake and you manage to get good pictures of Yuta’s hands and the aesthetic bowls and whiskers. You manage to hold the camera with your stiff casted hand, but it works even when you look super silly.

“Oh gosh! This is healing.” Yuta exclaims when his first cake comes out of the oven nicely and with a good aroma. You quickly take pictures and once it’s done, Yuta has already cut a slice and pops it into his mouth. “Yummy, I am talented indeed.” He sounds so confident and you hate to admit, his cake is better than what you expect and knowing your husband, you know he won’t stop bragging about this, he might even go as far as trying more baking recipes.

--

Your nightmare comes true, once his promotional schedule with NCT is over, he comes home with a load of baking supplies.

“Yuta, what’s all of this?” you ask when you help him bring in bags of spices, butters, and decorating tools.

“My promotional week is done and I have our well deserved rest! I am going to be productive and bake for you every day!” he smiles like a little kid who just get a chocolate and you can’t say no to him.

“Oh no, not every day Yuta!” you joke as you help him organize the spices into the kitchen racks.

He brought different types of flours and sugars, even bought yeast and baking sodas. Oh he really is planning to bake!

“Well, I have to finish some works have fun baking! Make sure you wear the apron and don’t set the oven too high. Wash the bowls too okay.” You pat his long hair and skip into your room.

Yuta takes his time to shower, sing in the bathroom, check the internet for easy recipes and even compare recipes from different websites.

His choice finally is decided on the famous banana cake, it doesn’t require mixer and he notices you have bananas at home.

“Flour, bananas, eggs, butter…” he bends to take the things out and places them all on the counter. Next he brings out the bowls and whiskers and the rest of the stuffs he needs.

“Okay all set,” he rubs his hands and takes the apron you have. Yuta’s lucky he can use your apron well, (thanks to his small waist). “And where is it,” he walks to the living room to get his small rubber band and as he bites the rubber between his teeth you happen to leave your room to get some water.

“Oh!” you exclaim when you see a hot scene reveling in your eyes. If you bring something, you’d drop it already.

There under the golden hours of the sun from the window, Yuta is tying his hair up and his lip bites is not helping you. Not to mention the apron fitting him well. You kinda regret not buying a “cute” apron.

“Let me help,” you grin when Yuta fails to tie his hair. Somewhat in the middle of tying his hair we was surprised to see you gawking at him. He blushes a little when you step closer and take his hair into one bundle and expertly you tie the band around it.

“There you go! Neat and tidy.” You click your tongue and run a hand down his exposed biceps.

“You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” you playfully ask him this when you learn just how “dolled” up he is. In your apron, smelling good, looking hot, and smirking.

“As much as you want me to tease you, see that?” he points to the kitchen and you follow his finger direction “I am baking you cake.”

You lead him to the kitchen, cool yourself down with a glass of iced water and Yuta starts to busy himself with the recipes.

He starts by measuring the cups of flour, sugars, and spoons of cinnamon and baking soda.

You choose to observe him instead of coming back to your work. You’re glad you have saved your works earlier and don’t have to return for it.

Yuta looks super serious when he cracks the eggs and starts mixing them to the dry ingredients. You take note at how accurate he is, you learned about the small details about baking through your rubric.

“Need help?”  you ask when Yuta starts to whisk the mixture together. He brings his bowl to his waist and with his tilted head and angled hand, he starts whisking the batter.

You have to hold yourself back when you see how he looks delicious right now. With an apron, a tied hair, tongue sticking out of his lips from focusing, his flexed arm and how he smirks at you. Gosh he’s the real cake here! You wonder how will he react if you suddenly come and bite him there on his neck which is inviting you to bite a mark there. Hey mark!

“No, I got this.” He winks at you and continues whisking the ingredients. Another minute passed by, he adds the mashed bananas and some cut apples for better taste. You focus on his actions but mostly enjoying the show he gives to you.

“You look hot.” You blurt that out loud as you secretly eat the choco-chips he will add later. “You think I look hot? You haven’t seen me whisk a whipping cream or make a meringue!” Yuta says as h places the bowl down and begin doing the next step.

You lean over the counter, eager to see what he is doing next. “Okay, all set just add choco-chips and stir and pour to container.” He smiles nicely to you, expecting to get praises or just a satisfied face. But all Yuta sees is your side smirk.

Yuta can always read you like a book, so without losing his cool, he checks you up from head to toe. He notices how you’re not focusing on him, biting your lips, and your ears and cheeks are as red as strawberries right now!

He connects the dots in his head and snaps his finger in front of your face. You jump in surprise “What?” you yell, clearly annoyed that your fantasy session is destroyed.

“No you’re staring at me too intensely! Stop it,” he acts like his innocence just got violated.

You click your tongue “Yuta, blame yourself!” you pull your hair in despair when you feel your body heating up more and feel tingles slowly creeping up.

Yuta is ignoring you when he shows off his flexibility by bending forward to put his container in the oven. “And that’s the right temperature, now we wait!” he tosses the mittens aside and leans his body to the table you’re seating at. He glances to the cup of water with only ice cubes left, he grabs it up and swirls it around before sipping the remaining drops.

“What are you looking at Princess?” his playful remarks are slipping from his lips. You bite your lips down and try to shake whatever idea you have in your head after seeing him drink the last drop of water like that is the best water in the world. His Adam’s apple bopping is not helping you at all, you lick your lips and lowkey will kill him for making this looks so yummy and advertise-able.

“Nothin’” you lie though it is as clear as day that you are “eating” him in your mind.

“You sure? You don’t look like that.” He says and then knocking the glass to his lips to take the remaining ice cubes in his mouth.

You nod your head and turn redder if it’s possible. Dang Yuta is clearly teasing you and you love it. “I-“ you can’t stop your sentence for the next thing he does is taking your lips there with ice cubes in his mouth. The cold sensation wakes you up from your day dream and you press your hands over his trained arms. He passes the cube into your mouth and you’re surprised with this new sensation. Oh Yuta and his surprises!

He continues taking you there until there’s no more cubes left and both of you are already breathing harder and the atmosphere has turn super hot. Next thing you know, you’re already on the sofa pinned down by Yuta as he teases you with butterfly kisses here and there.

“Yuta-“  you moan out his name when you have the chance, your hand pulls on his hair so he can stop kissing you for a while “Your cake.” You breathily remind him about the cake in the oven.

“Hm? My timer hasn’t gone off.” He ignores your attempt to stop taking you here.

“You want this right? Or do you want to eat me instead? You really look desperate earlier.” He nuzzles into your neck and gives some generous kitten licks there.

“Oh you were teasing me!” you defend yourself “Admit it.” You push him away to see his eyes and get the truth out, but Yuta is Yuta and he always has his way of making you lost. “No, I did not. You were this turned on by me, that you were having such sexy thoughts in the middle of the day.” His hand travels south and you already stifle a moan so he won’t be cocky about it.

He already plays with the hem of your pants, only seconds to pulling them away and eating you raw there, but his timer goes off and he has the biggest grin on his face, while you the biggest disappointment. “Yuta!” you’re already sounding so desperate, tears are forming in your eyes and Yuta only chuckles, he wipes your tears and stands up from between your legs.

“Oops! My bad, cake is done! Why don’t we try it when it’s hot?” he leaves you to turn the oven off and takes the cake out. He left you like that! All teased up and messy.

“Yuta- you will pay for this.” You groan before ignoring the pain from the edged pleasure and stomping your feet angrily to the kitchen.

“Come try this, tell me if this is good.” He offers you a forkful and you angrily chomp down on it.

“Bad.” You mutter, as you cross your hands over your chest but still chew on the delicious cake.

“Bad? This is so yummy! I can take this to the boys, and they’ll ask for more.” Yuta towers above you.

You pout “Fine, its yummy.” Your hand reaches out for some more bites, but you stop and shake your head “You. Finish what you did to me, or I cannot enjoy my cake.”

He giggles and in one swift motion already has you in his arms “Alright my princess, let me enjoy my cake instead!” he brings you to the room and you’re already giggly again, giving him kisses and playing with his hair.

You swear you will kill him if he only leaves you in the room and goes back to eat his cake in the kitchen, lucky you he did not do that. You both know that the cake will be cold once you’re done with the session but who cares when Yuta can bake more of them!

 And that is probably how you end up putting a bun in the oven with Yuta!

fin.

[farrawayfromthere]

Let’s Not Let A Year Pass By This Time

Pairing: Jordan Todd/Emily Prentiss

Word Count: 2k

Summary: After the family annihilator case that had been the last straw for Jordan at the BAU, they don’t see each other for a year.

A/N: for Day 4 of CM Fanfiction Week (Underrated character/pairing); tagging @simmonsmilf and @starry-eyed-spence (gif credit to @j3mily)

Jordan’s in line at a coffee shop in DC, eyeing a chocolate chip muffin in the display case with her name on it.

She fidgets with the zipper on her wallet then wonders with a small sigh if she’d be better off ordering an egg sandwich for the protein.

Today, her team’ll be flying up to a small city in New Hampshire who’s two post offices have both received bomb threats in the last couple days. She knows she’ll be interviewing postal workers all day; she’s gonna need the energy.

“Jordan? Agent Todd? Is that you?”

It’s a voice she hasn’t heard in what feels like a lifetime.

Jordan looks over her shoulder and finds herself face to face with a woman she hasn’t seen in over a year, just a couple customers behind her.

Emily’s face splits into that same huge, brilliant smile Jordan remembers.

“It is you! My god!”

She looks.... really good.

“Agent Prentiss,” Jordan says, eyes growing wide, mouth dropping open slightly.

Emily’s grown her bangs out, pushed them to the sides.

Her dark, dark brown hair falls smoothly, elegantly just past her shoulders.

She’s wearing a black pantsuit, well-tailored. A black, silky looking blouse underneath and black, thick heeled boots that make her feel even taller than Jordan remembers.

She looks, really, really good.

The guy behind her clears his throat and Jordan realizes the line has moved along.

She gestures for him and the lady behind him to go ahead, and reaches for Emily’s sleeve.

“It’s great to see you,” Emily says.

Jordan’s laugh is a disbelieving exhale.

The other woman extends a hand to shake and Jordan feels a strange, subtle swoop in her stomach when their palms press against one another’s.

Emily’s is still cool; Jordan’s, still warm.

Jordan wonders if Emily’s one of those people who always feels cold, just like she’s one of those people who always feels warm.

Suddenly, all the turtlenecks and sweaters she’d seen her wear around the BAU make a little more sense.

Emily’s hand squeezes hers back, and Jordan blinks up at her.

Emily’s eyes are bright, and even through their automatic, habitual coolness, suddenly, a little shy.

“Um, hi,” Jordan says, the words a little breathless.

“Long time no see,” Emily says.

“You’re telling me.”

Emily blinks and gives her a rueful little half-grin.

“I never called.”

“Well, I didn’t either,” Jordan says, keeping humor in her voice, “I meant to, in that first month, but—.”

“We just got so busy after you left. I didn’t realize how much time was passing, I’m so sorry,” Emily says.

They’d told each other they would stay in touch, but the days and weeks and months had just—slipped by.

By the time Jordan realized that an unacceptable amount of time had passed and she’d yet to make good on her promise to grab lunch or dinner with the older agent, the mere idea of picking up the phone and dialing her number made Jordan feel antsy with unease.

It would’ve been too weird; too awkward.

“It’s okay,” Jordan says, “Neither did I.”

Emily blows air out of her cheeks, expression full of relief.

“So we’re good?”

“Yeah, Prentiss. We’re good.”

She allows herself to take in Emily’s new hair for a moment.

She gestures lazily at it with her index finger.

“I gotta say. I like the no bangs look on you. Very elegant. Very mysterious FBI woman.”

Twin patches of pink appear high in her cheeks.

“Thanks.”

Jordan smiles.

“You still look like you could kill a man with one stomp of those boots though.”

A grin breaks through Emily’s blush.

“Oh, so they’re giving off the energy I’d hoped they would when I bought them?”

“If the energy you had in mind was ‘don’t mess with me’, then yeah, I’d say so.”

“Next,” the young man at the cashier calls.

Jordan winks at Emily, then steps forward to order her sandwich and coffee. She’s surprised when she finishes and the cashier looks over her shoulder to speak to Emily.

Quickly and efficiently, the taller woman orders herself a medium coffee and an old-fashioned donut from the display case. She pays for both of their orders without a moment’s hesitation, before Jordan can even open her mouth to protest.

“Thanks,” Emily tells the cashier, while Jordan, stomach swirling with a deep warmth that’s startling in its suddenness, places a couple bills in the tip jar.

They sit at a small table for two by the window.

When Jordan looks up from skim milk and raw sugar into her coffee, Emily’s eyes are already cautiously on her.

“So how have you been,” the taller woman asks.

“Uh, good,” Jordan says, then after a moment, ”I’m where I belong.”

“I’m glad,” Emily says, grinning as she mixed cream and a Splenda into her own coffee, “You didn’t seem to like working at the BAU very much.”

“I didn’t,” Jordan says honestly, “But some parts of the experience were better than others. Plus, JJ and I have been friends since our time at the Academy so....”

Emily pushes her hair behind her shoulders, revealing small silver disk shaped earrings that glimmer as she takes a sip of her coffee.

Jordan hesitates just a moment before saying it.

“I’ve gotta say: You look good, Emily.”

Emily’s eyes twinkle; a pleased smile spreads across her face, so genuine that Jordan realizes, for the first time, that Emily Prentiss has a perfect pair of tiny dimples.

Her eyes take in Jordan’s pristine navy blazer, her well styled ponytail. They linger briefly on her mouth, today a deep plum.

“Well, you look better.”

Jordan almost spits out her first sip of coffee; She’s acutely aware that her cheeks have just gone very hot.

Emily‘s smile is a bit too smug for Jordan’s liking. She rolls her eyes.

“I know I do.”

“Oh, really,” Emily exclaims with a grin.

Jordan looks down at her egg sandwich for a moment, appetite suddenly non-existent.

The fluttering in her stomach, the smell of Emily’s perfume is making it hard to think.

She smiles a small, tentative smile.

“How’s life?”

Emily takes a sip from her coffee.

“You know. Chasing down serial killers most days of the week, coming home, watching re-runs of The Sopranos, passing out. Rinse... and repeat.”

Jordan tilts her head.

“No special someone or someones’ to keep things interesting?”

Emily meets her eyes.

“Well I don’t know about special.... Distractions? Sure... but... uh... nobody I care very much about, and definitely nobody who cares very much about me. What about you?”

Jordan snorts.

“I don’t know about special,” she says, repeating Emily’s earlier words before half-smiling and shaking her head, “No. Nobody.”

“That’s good.”

Jordan raises a brow.

Emily winces at herself.

“I mean.... hey, that’s... it’s tough out here?”

Jordan laughs, the sound loud and genuine.

Emily hums, taking a sip of her coffee.

“How’s JJ,” Jordan asks, “The rest of the team?”

Emily sets her coffee down and smiles a soft smile.

“Good. She’s good. We all are,” Emily says, then after a pause, “She loves Will and Henry very much. I think they’re what keep her going now... but... I also think they make everything much harder than it used to be for her. She sees them in every case, and it scares her so much, even though she’ll never admit it.”

Jordan nods, understanding.

“I bet it helps though,” she muses, “To have someone to come home to. People to hold you at the end of those long-ass days you all have over at the BAU.”

Emily’s smile grows more faint.

“I wouldn’t know,” she says quietly.

“Well,” Jordan says, just as quiet, “Neither would I. But that’s what I imagine.”

“Yeah, well... it didn’t work out very well for Hotch,” Emily says.

Jordan fixes her gaze on her coffee.

She’d been overseas during Haley Hotchner’s funeral; she’d wondered how her murder had affected the team at the BAU, how it had affected Emily.

They all already had trust issues... she wondered just how much more they all feared intimacy now....

Emily seems to return to her senses, eyes darting up to meet Jordan’s and startling a little when she recognizes the compassion Jordan can’t help but feel for her.

Emily had been the best part of her time at the BAU.

And okay, maybe Jordan had developed a little, truly tiny, irrelevant crush on her in that time, and maybe.... maybe it had been a little devastating that they’d never gotten in touch again after she’d left the BAU—

Regardless, Jordan wants the woman sitting across from her to be happy.

She smiles faintly at her, then her eyes catch sight of the clock hanging over the cafe’s entrance and she starts.

“Shit,” she says, standing up, “I’m gonna be late.”

Emily looks up at her, for a second panicked, then she’s scrambling in her bag for something.

“Uh—please wait.”

She pulls out a pen and takes the cafe receipt Jordan’s crumbled up and forgotten on the table.

“We’ve gotta catch up properly, Agent Todd,” she says, scribbling her number on the back of it, “New number.”

Jordan tugs her phone from her purse.

“Just read it out to me, I’ll add you in right now,” she says.

Emily does.

Jordan smiles at it, then hesitates.

“Can I snap a quick photo of you for your contact? I‘m actively working with four women named Emily on three different continents.”

Emily’s eyes flash with a hint of something Jordan can’t decipher, then she nods.

“Sure—uh—how do I look? You’re gonna have to deal with this picture of me forever.”

“You know you look good,” Jordan says, holding up the phone, “But I’ll allow you one retake if you don’t like it.”

“Just one?”

“Just one.”

Emily straightens her back. She gives a small, close mouthed smile for the picture, dark eyes looking deeply into the camera.

“One... two... okay, got it.”

Jordan shows the picture to her and Emily grimaces.

“Ugh.”

Jordan scoffs.

“Oh, come on. You look like an English rose or whatever. It’s a good picture.”

“An English rose,” Emily repeats, laughing.

Jordan glances down at her still open camera and, lips quirking, snaps another photo.

This time, she catches Emily, eyebrows drawn up in amusement, grinning. She’s looking warmly out at Jordan over the lens of the camera rather than looking into it head on.

“Oh, I’m keeping this one.”

“What? Hey. Wait, let me see.”

Jordan shows her and Emily groans.

“No.... no, no, no.”

“Too bad it’s your one retake, huh?”

“But I didn’t even know you were taking it!”

“My phone, my rules,” Jordan says, putting her phone away and looking down at her with a grin, “I guess I’ll talk to ya later.”

Emily’s still grumbling under her breath.

Jordan lets a hand fall on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze before making for the doors.

“Hey Jordan,” she hears behind her.

And Jordan remembers in that moment that she likes the sound of her first name in Emily’s mouth.

She looks over her shoulder.

“Let’s not let a year pass by this time, alright,” Emily calls.

Jordan laughs, “Let’s make it two!”

“Please don’t,” Emily calls back.

“Or three!”

On the train, she tugs out her phone again, smiling a little at Emily’s contact photo.

She dials her number and Emily picks up on the second ring.

“Well this is nice. You gave me your real number,” Jordan says.

Emily snorts.

“I see you have a very high opinion of me.”

Jordan hesitates.

“Well, I’ll be honest... I don’t know you very well. All I know....”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a gentle whoosh.

“All I know was that you were the only thing that made my time at the BAU bearable, Emily. You stood up for me when nobody else did. You cared enough to check up on me when I was having a bad day. Even when I just acted like a jerk in return. And I’ll never forget that.“

She stops to let the honesty of her words hang in the air, then:

“I honestly was a little bummed out that we never hung out outside of work like we said we would.”

Emily seems stunned into silence by Jordan’s honesty.

Jordan doesn’t care.

She’s happy she’s said it.

Happy Emily knows that she brought good into someone’s life, at least for a little while.

“I don’t know what to say,” Emily murmurs.

“You’re one of those people who can’t handle intense sincerity, huh,” Jordan jokes.

Silence again; she must be walking.

Jordan can hear the click of her thick heels even over the phone.

“Not on a daily basis, no,” Emily says at last, but there’s a happy edge to her voice, “Confession from me?”

“Go for it.”

“It bummed me out a little too, that we never got together like we’d planned. You were excellent company, Jordan Todd. And I... I guess I didn’t realize until now how much I’ve really missed you.”

Jordan finds herself smiling.

“Sap.”

Emily laughs and Jordan chuckles in response.

For a second there’s silence on the line, then:

“Let’s get lunch this week,” Emily says, “Someplace good.”

Jordan bites the inside of her lower lip, trying to fight her own smile, knowing it’s a fight she’s going to be having with herself all day.

She knows today will be the day she’ll be called out for asking about bomb threat details with a glimmer of a smile on her face.

She doesn’t care.

“How do you feel about sushi?”

“Name the place and I’m there.”

[emitheduck]

Just A Look (Steve x Reader)

A/n: So this is one of my stories from DeviantArt that I figured I would move over to here! I’m probably going to make a part two at some point at well! 

"Can I get you anything else sir?" The waitress asked as she walked over to Steve's table, smiling slightly at him. The rain was coming down sideways, slamming on the windows of the diner where Steve was comfortably seated in a booth. 

"Another cup of coffee please?" He asked her, setting down the newspaper he was reading to take the last sip of his coffee as he watched her walk away. It was finally his time off, and he was going to enjoy it the best he could. Even if it meant late night coffee at the 24 hour diner because he couldn't sleep at night. 

The waitress walked back over, pouring more steaming coffee into his mug. "Just let me know if you need anything else." She said before she turned away.

Steve sighed as he watched her walk away. Sure, she was pretty, but she had also told him a long story about how this job was helping to put her daughter through college and support the baby that she had at home. She also told him about how he reminded her of his husband. That was the part that seemed to hurt the most. Steve wanted a family more than he could imagine, and knowing that he was so far away from having one hurt him badly.

The door to the diner flew open and a young woman walked in. To call her a hot mess would be an understatement. She looked to be coming from a night out; wearing a short dress and high heels, as well as being completely soaked from the rain outside. She walked over to the counter, walking right by Steve in his booth as she went to sit down.

As he watched her, his mind flew with ideas of what she was doing before she came into the diner. Did she go out with friends? Leave a party early because she wasn't having a good time? Had a fight with her boyfriend and stormed out of their house? Something about her was making him want to figure out everything that had ever happened in her life. Maybe it was the Avenger in him. 

"What can I get you?" The waitress asked the girl, snapping Steve out of overthinking the situation.

"Coffee please." She told her, smiling slightly back at her. "I'm gonna need a few cups."

Steve looked back down at his own cup of coffee, trying to decide if he should talk to her. Sure, he wanted to talk to her, but he was also afraid that he would say something to mess any chance that he had up.

The waitress filled up the mug in front of her and smiled. "Let me know if you need anything." She smiled, reaching into her apron before she sighed. "I left my pen at the booth. Steve, can you hand me my pen?"

Just at the sound of his name, Steve seemed to jump in his seat. He quickly picked up the pen and got up from his booth, reaching over the counter to hand it to her. "Here you go."

The girl at the counter looked over at him, her eyes locking with his. She gave him a small smile before turning back to her coffee cup to add her sugar and cream.

Steve smiled back, looking back down at the cup in his hand. She smiled first, and he was going to take it. Sure, she was more than likely being nice and smiling is just something you do when you're trying to be nice to someone, but he was going to hope.

"Hey. Do you mind if I sit here?" A voice asked, causing him to look up. There she stood, in front of him, holding her coffee cup. "I just think I could use some company."

"Of course, have a seat." He smiled, motioning for her to sit down across from him. "I think I could use some too."

"I'm (Y/n)." She smiled, sipping from her cup. Her cheeks were clearly flushed, but her hair has started to dry. 

"Steve. Nice to meet you (Y/n)." He smiled back, trying his best to hide the blush that was dusting his cheeks. "Can I ask what brings you to this diner at 2 am?"

(Y/n) sighed, fiddling around with a ring on her finger. "I took a nice long ride from North Salem all the way to Brooklyn, to get away from home.”

He choked on his sip of coffee, blinking at her. "An hour drive just to get away from home?"

"I mean it wasn’t the worst drive I’ve ever been on. I took a cab the furthest I could go, and then the subway was pretty deserted this time of night. I just had to get away, but I had a reason!” She told him, looking at him from across the table. 

"You had a reason to come to Brooklyn at 2 am?" Steve laughed slightly.

(Y/n) nodded. "I did have a reason. And that reason was to find you." She mumbled the last part, a blush very evident on her cheeks. 

"Me? You came here to find me?" He asked her, clearly shocked. "Out of everyone, you left your house to come find me at 2am?" 

"Okay, you might not believe me, but if you could just hear me out." She smiled slightly. "I came from Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, and I just knew that I would find you if I looked hard enough, and I really did have to look, but then when I--"

"Wait, you're one of Xavier's kids?" He asked, leaning forward to look at her in the booth. "Why did you come here to find me?" Steve knew he had to be stern about this. He could get in serious trouble if Xavier ever found out that he was talking to one of his students. 

She looked down at her hands. "I was kind of hoping that I could just talk to you. I just had to get away from them, whatever you do, please don't make me go back." She paused to finish off the last of her coffee. “Besides, I’m old enough to be on my own anyway, I’m in my twenties.”

Steve sighed, clearly seeing that even if she was a beautiful young lady, she was also a scared child at the same time. But, he knew that he had to help her no matter what; it was his job after all. "Why did you have to leave?"

"I just had to get away. We hear all about you guys in the city, and I guess I just wanted to see the city and meet everyone." She told him, running a hand through her hair.

"If it's not wrong to ask, what are your..um..powers?" Steve asked as he sipped at his coffee.

(Y/n) bit her lip, looking down at her hands. “I have nuclear energy, and before you freak out I can control it. I’m not currently radioactive I promise.”

Steve sighed under his breath, standing up from the booth and putting money down on the table. "Well come on then. I guess you can stay at my place tonight. But I'm calling Xavier in the morning."

"Whatever you say." She smiled, getting up and standing beside him, gently slipping her hand in his.

He blushed softly, saying goodbye to the waitress as they left the diner. "My car is right over here." He said as they walked to the lot next to the diner.

"Is this the part where I tell everyone that I was saved by Captain America?" (Y/n) teased as she got into his car.

"And I tell all my friends that I talked to a pretty girl?" He teased, looking at her in the passenger's seat. "Here, so you don't get cold." He smiled, slipping off his jacket and handing it to her.

(Y/n) smiled and put the jacket on, curling up on the seat. "You are just as nice as they say." She said as she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Steve blushed. "I just can't believe this is happening." He whispered, taking a deep breath as he decided to lean in and give her a soft kiss.

She kissed him back until he pulled away. "This is the best night of my life." She smiled as he started to drive.

As they were halfway to Steve's apartment, he looked over at the girl sleeping in his passenger seat, and maybe he got his wish after all.

MASTERLIST

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ TWO COFFEES ❜

✨ REQUEST: Oh can I have a Nestor imagine where Miguel ends setting the pair of you up??? 💜♥️💜♥️💜

✨ MADE BY ANON.

Gif credits: to the author.

WORDS: about 1.6k.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place or something that makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted ❤ — this work also includes sentences in Spanish, as reader can speak it.

❚❙ NESTOR OCETEVA MASTERLIST.

❚❙ MASTERLIST.

❚❙ JOIN MY TAG LIST.

“Two coffees, please”.

You were with your back to him when you heard his husky voice and a soft latin tone in it. You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow with some kind of confusion at his order. Who comes to a Starbucks just asking for two coffees? Turning at the man with your lips pressed in a funny smile, you took a second to look at him behind the counter.

He is familiar to you. You know him from somewhere.

His black braids were the first thing that caught your attention, before focusing on the red and black shirt under the jacket of his suit. His hands were hidden inside the pockets of his pants, but you noticed his nervousness in the way he had closed them in two fists.

“Normal or decaf? With or without milk? Normal milk? Lactose-free? Soya milk? Almond milk? With sugar, saccharine, or mocca? With or without cream? Do you want it hot or do you want it iced?”

“Normal, no milk, no sweetener, no cream, no ice. Just two coffees”.

You were about to laugh until you heard him talking again. A tone more firm letting you know that he wasn't in the mood for jokes. You could see him gulping a little ashamed when you changed the gesture in your face, but you didn't say anything else. The order was easy and ready in less than one minute. Closing the cups and offering him, you tried to show him another gentle smile but you couldn't. Offering you ten dollars, you waved a hand between the both of you.

“It's on me… Sir”. You told him, an instant before he threw the money inside the tips jar.

Watching him leaving the cafeteria made you feel strangely bad, not knowing exactly why. Sighing as the black car, parked in front of your workplace, disappeared from your field of vision in a jiffy. You hadn't seen that man before, but you wouldn't mind seeing him again. To apologize for being so stupid, of course.

—— NESTOR POV ——

“I fucked up”.

“Yeah, we all have seen the face of that poor girl. I bet you scared her”. Miguel laughed in the back seat of his car, taking a sip from the coffee.

“What the fuck you told him, man?” Vargas stopped the vehicle at a red light, turning at his boss.

“I asked for two coffees, and she started to… give me a lot of options, like milk and sugar and I just got nervous”.

“You? Nervous?” Miguel leaned forward, placing his forearms in both seats, sticking his head out of the gap between both. “The fearless Nestor Oceteva feeling nervous?”

“Fuck off, Mickey! I've been trying to talk with her for a week”.

“Yeah, and you scared her. Did you forget you only had to scare people while you're working?” The other man raised his eyebrows, making his boss laugh behind them.

When the night came and the cafeteria had emptied of customers, you turned off most of the lights inside and locked the main door, to count the cash and write it down in the account book. Playing some soft music on your phone, you took off the green cap and the apron of the same color. It was a long day and all you can think about was in that mystery man with two braids, and who made you feel frustrated for some reason. It wasn't like you wanted to make him smile or to know his name, or maybe get his phone number. Of course not.

Knocks on the crystal door claimed your attention, turning your head towards it and interrupting your task. Gulping nervously finding two suited men with his hands tangled in a big fist, respectively, under their abdomens, you stepped out from behind the counter to lead your feet to their position.

“Are you alone?” One of them asked without any doubt in his words.

Simply nodding, the other man walked to the car parked behind them. Then, you watched Miguel Galindo coming out from it. And now, you were fucked. Of course, you knew the man who came that morning. Licking your lips, freaking out, you unlocked the door to let him walk in.

“Buenas noches”.

“Buenas noches, se—señor Galindo”.

“Are you occupied? May I come in?”

With your heart racing, you gave him enough space to pass you away to the inside.

“I'm sorry if… he tho—thought I was making… fun of him. I didn't me—mean to be disrespectful”.

Your hands were sweating, rubbing one against the other behind your back. Barely breathing. Praying anything you knew.

“Tranquila, it's okay. Do you think I came to… make you something?” His calm attitude gave you shivers. The kind of ones that put your body to tremble. The laugh that echoed all around the empty cafeteria provoked your nausea. “The truth is… you like him. He has been some days trying to encourage himself to ask you out, but my brother is a little dumb”.

Tilting your head with confusion, just like a dog would do, you narrowed your eyes not sure if he was being serious or he was teasing you to have some fun.

“I do—”.

Miguel raised a forefinger to stop you, as soon as his phone rang inside his jacket. Grabbing it from the pocket and reading the name on the screen, he answered the call with the speaker on.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Mickey? Emily just told me you went for two coffees. The fuck you have? Five fucking years old? Leave the waitress in pace!”

Feeling like shit, you bowed down your head because of his words, recognizing the voice at the instant. The man in front of you watched the gesture frowning his brow.

“Nestor, the speaker is on”.

Pi, pi, pi. He had hung up.

“List—”.

“Can you, please, leave? I think you have had enough fun. And you should be ashamed of using your position to do this kind of bullshit to someone humble, who only wants to live her life without being a target to your free time”. Trying to be polite, you pointed at the door with a hand.

“No, no, lis—”.

“If you don't leave right now, sir, I'm calling the cops”. You ruled, taking a step forward with your eyes glued to him, about to cry because of rage. The rage that helped you to lose any fears about confronting the dangerous Miguel Galindo.

In silence, he nodded only one time, turning around to leave the cafeteria. After locking the door, you let the tears fill up your eyes and run down your cheeks. Needing a little break before finishing your work and going home.

A few days have passed since then, not being able to stop thinking about it and why you. Why they decided to play that prank. It wasn't funny. At least, it wasn't funny for you. But you were sure that, later, they commented it and laughed about your gestures. Turning the filter holder of the professional coffee maker, to fit it into the gear, you can't help but look through the reflection on it over your shoulder. Your heart jumps when you find Nestor bent over the counter with both forearms, waiting to be attended to.

“What would you like, sir?” The question comes out from your mouth with a cold tone of voice, not even looking at his eyes, ready to take his order in the TPV.

“Two coffees”. He replies trying to not show any kind of emotion, taking off the sunglasses covering his dark eyes. “One like… just coffee. And another of your choice”.

Filling up the cups with the drink and securing them with the covers, you put them over the counter to grab back the money and give him the change. Holding one with his right hand, the man offers you the other with his left.

“Do you have a moment?”

“No”.

“Por favor”.

“I said no”.

“I'm going to stay here, till you say yes”. The smile curving his mouth, showing you two perfect rows of teeth, convinces you somehow.

Rolling your eyes and tapping your co-worker's shoulder, you make him a gesture to cover you to take a short break. Nestor follows you then to the back alley, not saying a word but trying to prepare a monologue to apologize. Stopping your track and facing him, having a sip from your coffee, you wave your hand waiting for something.

“I told him to not do it”.

“So… was it a bet, or what? Were you bored and thought that could be fun making me feel stupid and ashamed?”

“None of that”. His jaw tensing calls your attention, bowing his eyes to the drink between his hands. “I really wanted to ask you out, but I wasn't sure if you were going to accept. I was nervous and… Miguel thought that he could help me”.

“He didn't”.

“I know”.

“And you, shouting through the phone, either”.

“Yeah, lo siento por eso”. Looking at your eyes again, with regret, he keeps his free hand in a pocket. “If you don't want to hang out with me, it's okay. I came to apologize for what happened”.

“Thank you”. You just whisper.

He tilts his head, pressing his lips and forcing a smile. Nestor waits one second, hoping that you add something else like you would like to have a date, but you don't talk again. Giving up, he nods turning around disappointed, walking out of the alley.

But actually, you're just making him suffer a little. It's called payback.

“I'm free tomorrow night”.

With a brow raised, the man turns around, facing you some steps away.

“We can meet at Jin's chinese restaurant. At seven”.

His smile appears again, infecting you with the same gesture.

“I'll be there at six”.

“Why?” You chuckle, not understanding him.

“To not make you wait”.

“Todo un caballero…”

[vanderlindemorgans]

Cross My Heart (Chapter 4)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings: heavy drinking, someones arm gets broken, also some very vague mentions of a shootout, reader is in denial about being in denial (so the usual pretty much)

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You thought it would just be one coffee. One simple mistake as a result of you being extra tired, or something like that. You’d give it to him, hear his stupid little remark meant to rile you up, and then it’d be done - it would never happen again. 

Here’s the thing, though: you kept making more. After that day, every morning when you woke up, you’d grab two coffee mugs and make one for the both of you - yours with extra cream, his straight black. You knew he liked to add a shot of whiskey to his, even though you pretended not to notice when he not-so-discreetly pulled his flask out. Whatever he needed to get through the day, you shrugged, watching him out of the corner of your eye. You certainly weren’t about to judge him for his drinking habits in light of your own less than stellar track record. 

Neither of you dared to mention it so far. You hoped to high heaven that he wouldn’t: his little tease on that first day was barely enough to get under your skin though it had stuck to the back of your mind every morning you woke up. You’re not getting soft on him, are you?

Shaking your head furiously, you let out a low frustrated sigh as you moved to reach out for the bottle of wine next to you once more, flicking off the top and pouring almost a good half of the bottle’s contents into your glass. It was a Wednesday night but you didn’t much care - if the hangover was that bad the next morning, and it never usually was with a shiraz, you’d get some painkillers and get on with your day. The same thought as before repeated itself in your mind again, doing nothing short of vexing you further. Partially because you were worried it was true. Maybe you were getting soft on him. Maybe you weren’t as strong and stubborn as you thought if Jack Daniels had managed to worm his way back into your heart.

No. That couldn’t be it. You tossed your head back and indulged yourself in a rather large gulp of wine, letting the liquid rush down your throat in a desperate attempt to dilute the pitiful nonsense that had filled your head. What a ridiculous thought. You weren’t falling for Jack Daniels charm once more. No, you simply wouldn’t do that. You knew better than that. You knew that underneath that smooth facade was a flitting and emotionally unavailable man, the man who had broken your heart and made you suffer for what felt like evermore. You may have felt pity on him for his fall from grace, but anyone else would if they saw the state of him. Discarding the glass off to the side, you wanted to laugh at the simple absurdity of such an idea. Are you always this stupid with a wine-addled brain? 

Speaking of the devil, you heard his footsteps from up the stairs, taking you by surprise as you were certain that he was asleep by now. You crocked your head to the side, your eyes travelling up the stairwell to the small part of the landing that was in your immediate vision - you couldn’t catch a single sight of him. Shrugging to yourself, you returned to your almost empty glass of wine, feeling that familiar haze descend over your brain with every sip you took. This was fine. You could let yourself be swallowed by the alcohol, maybe even enjoy the fact that your nerves were loosened for just this once. If it could take all that shit away, then you’d gladly let it. And as for Jack? You’d continue on as you were: barely acknowledging his existence, and regarding him as nothing more than a ghost from your past. That’s what you wanted, right?

You’re lying to yourself and you know it.

Blinking your eyes rapidly, you stared out into the space in front of you, your mind lost a million miles away while you were in complete and utter astonishment over those few words that had crossed your mind. Things were quiet, still, even peaceful in a way, only for a second anyhow. That was before the rush came, that incensed anger that flashed across your mind for barely a moment, settling down into something resembling vague annoyance, directed at none other than yourself. Where the hell did that come from? For god's sake, get a grip on yourself. Standing up abruptly, you didn’t even stumble as you advanced back over to the liquor cabinet, dropping to your knees and scanning the tops of the glistening glass bottles under the dim lamp light. Your eyes landed on the bourbon you had stashed at the back and you reached out for it, carefully lifting it above all the others despite your intoxicated state. Resting the bottle against the palm of your hand, you let your fingers trace the grooves in the molded glass, a small bit of hesitation working its way into your mind, hesitation that was swiftly kicked aside in favour of that pesky little buzz that danced around the back of your head, that stupid little crumb of self doubt that refused to fucking leave. 

Guess I’m gonna need a bottle of something stronger to kick this shit. 

___

He didn’t know why he kept watching you. You weren’t doing anything particularly notable - you’d decided to take one of the horses out for a ride, practicing vaulting and the like. He remembered you’d once told him that as a young kid that you’d entered a number of equestrian competitions, and even won a few - he’d seen the trophies gathering dust on the mantle and the cute photos of you posing with your chosen horse, Buttercup, as a child. You explained years ago that you’d stopped participating in competitions but still liked to take the horses out for a spin every once in a while as a way to relax and clear your head. As he watched you now, he could already see the stressors of the day melting away from your visage, leaving only a steely focused expression in its wake as you cleared another jump. 

It was the first time in weeks he’d seen you truly relaxed at all, or showing any sort of emotion other than your usual show of cheerfulness you splashed on for the customers, woven with a current of underlying stress and irritation. Seeing you like this couldn’t help but remind him of better times: you’d taken him out on the horses more than a couple of times when the two of you were together. Jack had always labelled himself as something of an animal lover, ever since he was a kid. He didn’t, and hadn’t, had any pets for a good ten years now though at some point long ago he wanted something similar to what you had - a nice ranch situated out in his home state of Kentucky with a bunch of animals and his family. That dream had seemed so close to him once that he could have sworn it would be a reality yet fate wasn’t so kind to him in that regard. The memory of it all alone hadn’t ceased to become any less painful to him: seeing the broadcast on the news of a shootout down at a local convenience store only to get the call moments later confirming what he’d already feared to have happened most. 

Not a day passed where he didn’t wish he could go back to a time before that day, where even the simple idea of having a family didn’t seem so foreign and unattainable. He felt himself grip onto the wooden bar of the veranda just a tad bit tighter the longer his thoughts fixated on it, though the sound of a piercing shriek immediately brought his attention back to you, his eyes darting around in a frenzy, determined to know what had caused you to cry out in agonising pain. Upon seeing your body lain flat on the ground he rushed forward, vaulting himself over the edge of the varanda and calling out your name. “Are you alright, sugar?” he shouted, throwing open the gate to the ring and racing over towards where you were lying. The faint sounds of you whimpering did nothing short of send him into panic mode, seeing how much it hurt you to move only adding to his worry. “I’m fine, I just...the dumb horse got spooked by something and bucked me off” you groaned, struggling to pull yourself up, leading you to let out another loud yelp when you tried to move your left arm.

Swooping in to catch you before you fell, Jack gently reached for your arm and pulled it towards him, his eyes widening the moment he caught sight of the horrific fracture done to it. “Darlin’, don’t lie to me, you’re not fine. Arms are not meant to look like this!” he stressed, studying your eyes intensely, trying to gauge if you had some sort of a concussion. They were slightly glazed over, and your gaze kept wandering from him as if you were having trouble focusing. “How’s your head feelin’, sweetheart?”. 

“Kinda dazed. Hurts like a bitch as well” you grumbled, leaning your head against his shoulder slightly. Every bone in your body felt like it was screaming at you like some sort of symphony, the pain in your arm being the worst of all. Your vision had also become slightly blurry and kept splitting double every few seconds, only contributing to your general haziness. Your thoughts were running a mile a minute, scattered around your brain and refusing to slow down. Suddenly, you felt yourself being lifted off the ground and up into Jack’s arms, your head lolling slightly against his forearm as he carried you back up to the house. Running through your memory, you couldn’t really remember what had happened fully: you had just made another jump and were circling around the ring to gain speed for another when suddenly you were on the ground and your horse, Molly, was a few feet ahead of you. 

Jack brought you up to the varanda and laid you down on the bench, grabbing one of the old decorative throw pillows you had to rest your head on.“Stay here for a moment, I’m gonna get you some ice, then I’m gonna call an ambulance and get ya to an emergency room” he instructed before ducking back inside the house.

“Is that really necessary, Jack?” you shouted out after him, leading him to stick his head back out the door to look at you incredulously. “Sweetheart, your arm is broken and you're clearly concussed. I think the situation more than calls for it” he replied with a deadpan tone, disappearing back into your house to find you some ice. Resting your head back against the pillows, you turned to see Molly trotting around near the edge of the fenceline, acting as if she hadn’t just thrown you off her back for no apparent reason at all. 

“Yeah, just had to buck me off, didn’t ya? Thanks asshole!” you shouted out, doing your best to ignore the persistent throbbing in the side of your head and the dull ache from where your arm was rested. Thankfully, partially due to the concussion probably, it didn’t feel as bad as before, though at the same time you could have just simply become more tolerant of the pain. Not to say it didn’t still hurt like literal hell or that it was any less easy to take notice of. 

“Honeybee, I get you’re in pain but yelling at the horse isn’t doing anything” you heard Jack say to you as he made his entrance once more, holding a tea towel containing several large blocks of ice in his hand. Muttering out a small ‘thank you’, you took the towel in your hands and pressed it against the swell of your arm, letting out a small hiss the second you felt the sharp sting of the cold on your skin. “I know yelling at the horse does nothing, but it’s making me feel better” you grumbled. 

“Is it? Is it really?” Jack scoffed, subsequently choosing to ignore the sharp death glare you gave him after his flippant remark. “I’ve called an ambulance, they’ll be here to get you to a proper hospital in no time. You really had me worried there when I heard you scream”.

“Oh, so you do care about me after all” you jeered, your signature sarcastic edge seeping through your tone. You shifted slightly to try to position yourself up a little more so that you could face him properly yet as you moved a heavy sting of pain shot through you, causing you to yelp out a little and tense up in response. As if it were instinctual to him, Jack moved towards you and helped you settle back down. “Try not to move too much until the ambulance gets here” he directed. You didn’t know if it was your imagination or not, but you could have sworn his hand lingered on your forehead a second longer than it should have, his fingertips brushing against your skin and leaving a burning sensation in their wake, something that, shamefully so, made your heart skip a small beat. “Now, about me not caring - sugar, when are you gonna accept that no matter what happened between us that I still care about you as a person?” he asked. Shoving those thoughts to the back of your mind, you settled on glaring back at him with a quick witted quip to combat him, because that’s all he was to you: an annoyance, a nuisance, a royal pain in the ass. You were doing him a favour by letting him stay with you. There was nothing more to this.

“Try never, asshole” you snapped, one note harsher than you originally intended. As usual whenever you bit back at his banter, Jack shrugged and rested back into the wall he was standing against. For once, though, you felt bad at snapping at him like that - there wasn’t any need for it, he was only trying to help. Not knowing if you could fully coax the words ‘I’m sorry’ from your mouth, you settled on something less apologetic but still sort of the message across. “But...really, thank you. For, y’know, helping me out here” . 

Jack looked at you for a moment, somewhat taken aback at what you’d said before he softened a bit.“Of course, sugar. Call it returning the favour for taking care of me a couple of weeks back” he answered, giving you that sweet smile of his that hadn’t managed to unweave itself from those old memories. And for once, you allowed yourself to smile weakly in return.