#i am your local barista

[fingertipsmp3]

Why is my granddad messaging me and shading my uncle

[whispers-of-magic]

I finally have a job but good god is it tiring

[mattscoquette]

your arm was hooked around matt’s bicep and your cheek rested on his shoulder while you both waited in line in the cafe, softly murmuring about what you were both getting. the second the weather dropped and the leaves began to change color, you’d made it a point to go to your favorite local cafe to try the new fall drinks.

“i think that apple cider shit looks good,” matt mumbled, turning his head to speak into your hair as he planted a kiss to your head, “what are you gettin’, doll?”

you hummed softly, looking up at him with a smile. “white mocha.”

he scoffed, playfully rolling his eyes. “you always get that.”

“it’s good, though.” you giggled, hiding your face in his arm.

the both of you continued your light banter until you got to the register, the both of you ordering your respective drinks before heading to the end of the counter to wait. while you were standing, matt tugged you into his chest, hugging you closely as you both swayed back and forth. you both often found solace in just being close with one another. matt perked his head up at the sight of the barista placing two coffee cups down at the counter, softly mumbling to you that your drinks were both ready.

the two of you grabbed your drinks before heading out the door, heading down the street as you walked hand in hand to go for a small walk. you both admired all the little stores you passed, the windows on full display for the autumn season that was now upon you.

“this is soooo good.” you sighed after taking a long sip, looking up at matt with a smile.

“yeah, so’s mine,” he mumbled in agreement as he looked at you over the cup while he drank.

“can i have a little sip?” you smiled, perking up.

matt laughed, shaking his head. “no.”

you eyed went wide as you whined, dramatically and almost childlike, “what? why not?”

“you shoulda ordered this instead of your white mocha shit.” he chuckled, sounding matter of fact while he took another sip tauntingly.

“matty, please?” you pouted, stopping in the middle of the side walk to peer up at him, your best pleading eyes on display.

“no,” he pouted back as his bottom lip jutted out, his expression laced with faux sympathy.

you huffed in annoyance, clearly upset. you flicked your eyes down, then back up again, tears beginning to well. “please?” you rasped again

matt laughed, shaking his head yet again. “no, baby, you got your own drink. drink that.”

“you’re so mean.” you whined, a couple tears falling as you tried to rapidly blink them back.

matt was used to you overly-sensitive nature by now. when you’d first started dating, matt was always in a state of constant worry about what could possibly set you off, and try to find ways to calm you. now, he knew it was nothing serious. he knew that you would get over it and the world would continue to turn.

“yeah, i am, aren’t i?” matt chuckled down at you, softly cupping your cheek and wiping a tear with his thumb.

you sniffled, nodding your head as tears pooled out of your eyes. “yeah, i just wanted a sip an’ you’re not lettin’ me.”

“aww, poor baby,” he cooed teasingly, pulling you into his chest. he wrapped his arms around tightly, softly stroking your hair, “i’m just the worst, right? never met anyone meaner than your matty.”

you whined into his chest. “stop makin’ fun of me, you’re being so mean.”

“i know, i know,” he mumbled into your hair with a smirk.

you sniffled and cried for a few more minutes before pulling away, wiping your tears away with the sleeve of your sweater. you looked up at matt, still a bit upset as he laughed. “matty it’s not funny.”

he shook his head, leaning in to kiss your forehead before letting his hands fall to your hips, giving them a squeeze. “i know it’s not. this is serious.”

you huffed, pulling away from his grip as you joined hands once more, continuing your walk down the street, only this time a bit more annoyed. you sighed, taking another sip of your white mocha, smiling to yourself quietly, gaining matt’s attention.

“what’s got you so giggly over there, princess? they put somethin’ funny in your coffee?” matt asked with a smirk playing on his lips and his eyebrow raised.

you shook your head. “no, this is just really good an’ i’m glad i got this and not apple cider.”

© mattscoquette

[dolene]

ESPRESSO ; max verstappen x singer!reader

summary: after the release and her performance on coachella. who knows that her newest single is hinting an attraction from a certain person.

taglist: @callsignwidow (and for those who commented in my previous deleted post, please re-comment)

yourusername

liked by ameliadimz and 1,936,558 others

yourusername just wanted to put out a little song before Coachella 🤎

Espresso 4/11

8pm EST

view all 31,769 comments

username LET ME BREATHE OMG BILLIE, GIRL IN RED, TAYLOR, NOW Y/N

teamyn instant caffeine boost

username YNCHELLA IS GONNA EAT DOWN

oliviaobrien the most gorgeous girl in the world are u kidding 😭😭😭

username gonna start drinking espressos bc mommy said so

username BABES WAKE UP MOTHER BREW US ESPRESSO TONIGHT

pinterest The gift that keeps on giving 🥹

ariana_greenblatt yum

username NEW MUSIC WE CHEERED

juliamichaels Love this songgggggg 🙌

username thank you from baristas everywhere

username Listening to this song every time I drink coffee (I'm a coffee addict)

iheartradio espressOMGGGGG

username We're eating good this yeaarrrrr

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1 and 1,103,996 others

yourusername Are you thinking about me? ☕

view all 31,847 comments

username YES YES YES WE AREEEE

username looking so mother already

laufey 🖐️🖐️🖐️🖐️🖐️🖐️🖐️

username thinking about you and that weird ass looking man at coachella, but mainly thinking bout you bb

username That's Barry. If it's not him, I owe you 50 bucks

maisiehpeters Not only thinking, BUT LISTENING TOO 🔊🔊🔊🔊

username I swear I've seen Max liking this post but WHERE IS HE

username MAX LIKED MAX LIKED

username oh that man be gone just as fast as he snatched that trophies last year

username ＠redbullracing I'VE GOT MY EYES TO ONE OF YOUR DRIVER

redbullracing We swear we didn't know anything about all these stuff been going on

username just fell into my knees at my local coffee shop, ordering a espresso straight after.

teamyn Good choice after being starstrucked 🤭

iamrebeccad Yes I ammm

jennaortega Thinking my thoughts in a loud speaker

maxverstappen1 added a photo to their story! · 12m

yourusername

liked by redbullracing and 1,148,577 others

yourusername Have you met your eye refresher yet?

view all 8,461 comments

username WHAT THE HELL

username I AIN'T EXPECTING THAT AT ALL

username pls explain THAT outfit first, max

maisiehpeters WHAT??? BUT HE CAN'T BE WEARING ANY OF THAT FUNKY SINGLET??

radvxz I am shocked too

yourusername 😁

username 2024 is the year where we're not seeing his redbull hat anywhere but as an impact, his fashion sense is now in the brink of death

username #giveus2023maxfashionback

username what did she whisper to you in your sleep

username Girlfriend effect that is really effecting

[calliopesdiary]

“you’re too sweet for me”

summary; you partially own your mums coffee & flower shop, so it’s no secret that you’d have a little (big) work crush on a boy whom you only know from his signature on the receipts.

ships; poly!marauders x fem!barista!reader

contents; mild language, reader has long enough hair to tie up into a ponytail, sirius is a flirt

a/n: this is so short but i needed to write something having to do with this song!! part two anyone??

YOU HAD A LOT OF ENERGY for 5:30am.

thirty minutes until opening, you tied your hair up into a pastel pink ribbon.

the soft and crisp spring air pooled into the shop from the open windows, as you set some fresh flowers at your counter.

“ready for opening, dear?”

“yes, mum!”

you responded.

she had certainly noticed your level of chipperness in the mornings had doubled since you started working there, probably because of the young man she’s seen you conversing with every morning at exactly 7:42 am, which was when he always came in.

unless the boy was sick, or busy he’d be in the shop atleast once a day.

“can’t make coffee to save my life, you know?”

he’d always insist.

you heard the bell on the door chime, alerting you of the first guest.

“hi, welcome in.”

you turned around to spot him, and two other boys. odd.. he usually comes in alone.

“new friends, hm?”

you teased, leading him to smile brightly.

“no, they just don’t wake up early enough.”

you nodded, grabbing your pen and paper.

“what can i get for you?”

you were surprised how well you kept your cool, i mean— the other two boys were almost as good looking as he was, and it really made you question yourself.

“i’ll have my usual, darling.”

Sirius— atleast that’s how you thought his name was pronounced— leaned against the counter smugly, as his tall, lanky friend scoured the menu.

“can i have the iced caramel mocha, please?”

the slightly less tall, messy-haired brunette with circular glasses smiled sheepishly.

“do you have almond milk?”

“mhm.”

“okay… can i have an iced matcha green tea latte with almond milk?”

the lanky one finally asked.

“of course, can i get a name for each?”

you fidgeted with the pen in your hand softly.

“Sirius, James, and Remus.”

“how are their names so hot???” “god y/n… you dirty slut, you should not be thinking this way about customers.”

“….your drinks will be ready soon.”

you flashed a small teethy smile as you rushed to go make their drinks.

you brought their drinks out on a tray, and set it down on the table.

“enjoy your coffee.”

you smile softly and begin to walk off.

Sirius gets up to pay, and pulls out some cash.

“there you go, love. amazing as always.”

he winked, and you desperately tried to keep your composure.

“any time.”

he signed the receipt, and as you grabbed his change. you decided to make a bold move.

besides, would him and his gorgeous friends really call the local baristas number she left on the check?

the answer was yes.

[simplygojo]

Public Display of Humiliation

Author’s Note: Hey friends!!! I wrote this little blurb a while ago and figured I’d post it now since I am just working away on a few of y’all’s requests! TYSM to everyone who has requested something, I love all the ideas so much and I LOVE Y’ALL!!!

I hope you enjoy this short blurb, this is my first shorter piece of writing!:) Also, heads up for you beautiful people, I am doing something super special to give back to y’all when I reach 1k followers (we are 140 away!)!!!

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!reader

Inspiration/summary: Gojo gets a kick out of embarrassing you—he likes to watch how flustered you get trying to shut down his antics—he likes to watch the pink warmth rush to your cheeks as he makes you the centre of attention, at all times.

Word Count: 0.8k (blurb/hc)

Warnings: Second hand embarrassment hehe, not even edited once

Requests are open! Please read the Request Guidelines before submitting a request <33

Gojo absolutely lives to embarrass you in public. It’s like he makes it his personal mission to see how red your face can get before you explode from sheer humiliation.

Whether it’s dragging you through busy malls, crowded streets, or even your local café, nowhere is safe from his antics.

It usually starts off innocent enough—just the two of you grabbing coffee or shopping for the day. You’ll be holding his hand, trying to pretend like he isn’t up to something (which, of course, he always is), and that’s when it happens.

Out of nowhere, Gojo stops in the middle of the crowd, wraps your arm around his waist, pulling you closer as he trapped your hand.

“Excuse me!” He’d shout, catching the attention of every passerby.

“Can someone help me? This woman’s trying to kidnap me!” His voice echoes through the busy walkway, and you feel every single pair of eyes turning toward you.

People whisper, some are confused, others look concerned. Your heart drops, and you try to pull away, but his grip tightens as he grins down at you with those impossibly blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Gojo, stop it!” You hiss through clenched teeth, trying to maintain some dignity. But he just tilts his head, giving you the most innocent look he can muster.

“Why? Are you denying that you’re my kidnapper? Look at her, everyone!” he laughs, holding you even closer.

The worst part? People start smiling, realizing it’s all a joke, and suddenly you’re the center of attention while he’s just standing there, thriving off your embarrassment.

And when he’s not making you the subject of some dramatic performance in public, he’s pulling his other favorite move—telling strangers you’re related. Just as you’re about to pay at the cashier or make a casual purchase, he’ll lean in casually, completely straight-faced, and say,

“Yeah, she’s my favourite cousin.” The poor cashier or barista just looks between the two of you awkwardly, especially since you both *look nothing alike*. But before you can even open your mouth to correct him, he grabs your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands, and plants the most obnoxious, lingering kiss on your lips.

You go completely still, your face burning hot as you feel everyone around you pause in shock, wondering what kind of "relationship" you two really have. And when Gojo finally pulls away, he does it slowly, like he’s savoring every second of your mortification.

“What? I can’t kiss my *cousin*?” he’ll say, feigning innocence while the smirk tugging at his lips betrays him.

“Oh my god Satoru please shut up—That’s not true!” You’d shout, trying to hide the visible embarrassment you were in.

The people nearby exchange confused, amused glances while you stand there, frozen and speechless, torn between wanting to crawl into a hole and slap the smirk right off his face.

His favorite stunts are always the unexpected ones. You’ll be walking side by side, and out of nowhere, he’ll scoop you up, throwing you over his shoulder like some kind of damsel in distress.

“Help! Help! Someone call the cops, I’m being abducted by this woman!” He’d yell as you pound your fists against his back, furiously kicking your legs while people stare, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

He’d carry you around like that for a good minute or two, even stopping to chat with strangers while you’re still dangling over his shoulder, your face practically glowing with embarrassment.

And of course, no one ever takes him seriously.

They laugh along with him, completely entertained by his theatrics while you’re left to deal with the humiliation. Every time you beg him to stop, he just grins and says, “Aww, come on, y/n. You look so cute when you’re flustered.”

It’s infuriating, the way he can so effortlessly push your buttons and have you turning red in seconds, all while he’s cool, calm, and utterly shameless.

But as much as you hate to admit it, you know that deep down, he loves it. Seeing you flustered, watching you get all worked up, is his favorite kind of entertainment.

And no matter how embarrassed you get, no matter how many times you threaten to never go out with him again, he never stops.

Because, in Gojo’s mind, teasing you in public is just another way of showing how much he loves you—even if it does mean turning you into a blushing mess in front of half the city.

[moonswolfie]

Princess of the commoner cafe

Oikawa, Miya twins, Ushijima, Hinata, Akaashi x fem!reader

ohshc AU!!

I've been watching a bit of ouran high school host club lately (still havent gotten very far but i am HOOKEDDDDDD) and i'm sure others have written something like this before but i wanted to throw my own hat in the ring and write this delulu ass scenario

also i apologise PROFUSELY if anyone is ooc it has been a WHILE since my last haikyuu rewatch

(btw i am working on your request anon dont you worry ;) )

Somehow, you managed to get into the prestigious Ouran Academy based on your academic success alone. Your parents were overjoyed to send you off, even if you felt embarrased about not even being able to afford the official school uniform. You stuck out like a sore thumb on your first day, that's for sure.

At first, you thought you wouldn't fit in with anyone here. Your hypothesis was mostly correct. Everyone in your class is always talking about their latest designer bag or bragging about their new lambo or bugatti. Needless to say, it's like they're speaking in a foreign language.

They quickly lost interest in you after you couldn't list your top ten designer brands (with reasons as to why you chose those specific ones!!!). Yeah, friends are kind of out of the picture.

So when your curiosity got the better of you one day and you visited the host club all the girls in your class keep squealing about you didn't expect things to develop like this.

"Are you gonna visit today too? Are you?!" Hinata, the boy from the other class attached himself to your arm and looked at you with sparkling eyes. "Of course I am." you smiled at him, a little giddy about returning to the club once more.

"We have a special theme today, just for you..." he told you that while wearing a mischevious grin but refused to elaborate. The boys at the club always go through great lengths to get you curious and draw you back into the club. Not just Hinata, all of them.

Let's just say you've become quite the sensation among the hosts of the Ouran High school host club. You aren't exactly sure how you managed to get yourself in this situation, but you aren't really complaining, either. You'd definitely take being adored by the 6 hotties of the school over being ignored by everyone for all your 3 years of high school.

All you did was visit the club a few times out of curiosity, far too afraid to actually openly interact with the hosts considering the crowd of girls always gathered around them. Not to mention you'd definitely get gawked at for your clothes, mannerisms and conversation topics (and not in a good way).

Akaashi was the first to take notice of you, and somehow that evolved into every other host becoming interested, too.

Anyways, Hinata seemed very satisfied with your promise to come visit once again and ran off, shouting that you have to promise to come visit him first.

Well, there's nothing to it but to do it, you suppose.

.

"Welcome, dear guests, to the host club!" all the guys greeted you and a group of other girls who also came as soon as they possibly could. They were practically pushing eachother in front of the door. Not that you can blame them.

As soon as you stepped into the room, you felt like you were standing at the local cafe located just around the corner from your house. It felt warm and homey. So this is what they went for this time. A strange choice, considering their usually extravagant themes.

"Heya, gir-" Atsumu's smug voice greeted you from behind and you turned around to see that he was about to envelop you in his arms. "Hey, ya lost the bet. I get her first." Osamu pulled Atsumu back by his barista apron before he could actually touch you. Atsumu grumbled something you couldn't quite hear, which you presume was some not so nice words directed towards his brother.

"Actually, I made a promise to Hinata that he'd be the first one I visit." you smiled at the twins apologetically. Neither of them seemed too pleased about the prospect of that, though. "Why? Ya like him more than us?" Atsumu placed his hands on his hips, glaring at you.

"Hahaha, a promise is a promise. I'll be back for you two right after, don't worry." you waved the twins off, winking. That seemed to soften their expressions a bit. But maybe it wasn't the smartest idea, looking back on it. They're definitely going to fight over which one of them you winked at later.

Hinata greeted you enthusiastically, looking overjoyed at seeing you. His cheeks blushed a nice pink color when he smiled at you. "Wait here, wait here." he held out an antique looking chair for you and you sat down behind one of the tables. Then he ran off somewhere.

You're always impressed by how lavishly they decorate their club. I guess being rich can really do wonders for club decor.

"Are you enjoying today's theme? I made sure to pick out some fitting decorations." Akaashi suddenly appeared behind you. You could have sworn you didn't hear his footsteps. Maybe you were just too absorbed in observing the theme, though. Haha, even all the hosts are dressed like baristas.

"Yeah..." you looked into Akaashi's eyes, admiring their color. You've always found him to have a calming presence, even if he can be mischevious at times. That just adds on to his personality, doesn't it? You think it's quite a shame that he isn't as popular as a certain someone in the club.

"It seems to me you're enjoying something other than the theme." you got snapped out of your thoughts by Akaashi's voice. Oops, you must have been staring at him again. You turned away, making a quick apology. You felt a little giddy all of a sudden.

"Oh, but when did I ever say I dislike the attention?" Akaashi gently grabbed your chin, turning your face back to him. Somehow, he seems more affectionate towards you than he does to the other girls who request him. Atleast you've never seen him grab other girls' chins. You were sure you probably looked awestruck in this moment.

"Hey! Stop hogging her to yourself!" Hinata was running back to the two of you, holding a fancy cup of (presumably) coffee. On his way to stop Akaashi from wooing you, he didn't notice a wire below his feet and he tripped over it.

...Which happened to spill hot coffee all over your shirt and shattered the cup to pieces. "Ugh... I'm okay, don't- AAAAH!" Hinata yelled upon seeing your shirt.

"I'll go get new clothes!" Akaashi seemed tense, quickly turning on his heels and running off.

Luckily, the coffee was cool enough to not give you burns. You aren't even worried about the shirt that much either, you've been on the fence about donating it anyways.

"Aaah, I'm so sorry. I'm so so so sorry." Hinata seemed almost dramatically apologetic, bowing down before you in apology over and over.

"What is going on over here?" you heard a smug voice that could belong to one person and one person only. The leader and self proclaimed king of the club, Oikawa, was now approaching the two of you. And he didn't seem very happy, mind you.

"Ah, Oikawa! It's, umm..." Hinata nervously whipped his head around to meet Oikawa's charming chocolate eyes.

"Hinata accidentally spilled coffee on me." Hinata looked at you sadly, like you just betrayed him. You gasped, realising you weren't supposed to reveal that unless you wanted Hinata to feel Oikawa's wrath. Normally he would just scold Hinata for his clumsiness, but when it comes to you specifically, he gets protective. Somehow, he even looks like a supermodel while wearing a barista uniform.

"He... Oh, that won't do. You should spend less time with clumsy good-for-nothings and spend more time with..." he tilted your chin towards him "...Me."

As much as you think Oikawa is an obnoxious jerk, he always manages to charm your negative feelings away when he does something like that. Gets you feeling all giddy like the main character of a badly written shojo anime.

"Uh-huh. Whatever you say, bro." you kept your face as cold as you possibly could in that situation. It seemed to you like the word "bro" was a direct stab to his heart, but he quickly recovered, putting on his best flirty face. "I will help you clean yourself up, my princess. We simply must get you out of that dreadful shirt." Oikawa shot poor Hinata a glare. You're definitely buying him "that one good commoner chocolate" (as Hinata likes to call it) later.

"Uh, Akaashi's already-"

"Now now now, what's goin' on here?" things are about to get a lot more complicated, you reckon. Because now the twins have showed up.

"We heard precious china shatterin' and wanted to see what caused it." Osamu added. A few girls were blushing a few meters behind the twins, probably too nervous to approach the two right now.

"Ya said you'd come visit us right after! And now yer here with this a-" Atsumu immediately stopped complaining when he saw your shirt. Both the twins shot poor poor Hinata a glare. (One "poor" for each twin.)

"See, I told ya I was a better fit for ya. I'd never spill coffee on ya." Osamu crossed his arms.

"What do ya mean "the better fit for ya"? Clearly, I'm the better one 'round here. And say the wink was meant for me while we're at it, won't ya?!" Atsumu's anger was now directed back at Osamu. (Akaashi would joke that it's back to where it's supposed to be.)

"I was kinda winking at-"

"Oh, please. Don't joke around with me. We all know I'm the best fit for her." Oikawa posed dramatically, which looked funny because of his not very prince-like outfit.

This always ends up happening. At this point you've given up on stopping it. The twins start bickering with Oikawa while girls on both sides squeal for them to calm down, tearfully inviting the boys back into their embraces.

You look behind you, where Ushijima is staring at you knowingly. You give him a relieved smile, knowing what's about to come. Whenever the other guys get into duels over who gets to recieve your attention, Ushijima is always there to pull you out of the situation.

The duels get so heated that you get to spend a few minutes alone with him before the others even notice you're gone. And so you follow the routine of letting him whisk you away to a lonely corner of the club room.

"Do you know why the theme is a commoner cafe?" he asks after a few moments of silence. He's looking at you with complete seriousness, but you don't miss the hint of a smile on his face. Enchanted by such a sight, you shake your head no dreamily.

"It was to impress you. Akaashi thought of the idea." Your eyes widened. Now you just feel giddy that Akaashi actually remembered that one time you told him you used to visit a cozy cafe close to your house with your parents growing up. It was all the way back when he first acknowledged your existence and decided to sit around with you for a few minutes, sipping tea from a cup that probably costs more than your phone.

"Oh... I like it. I really do." you smiled up at Ushijima. You could swear a bit of blush appeared on his cheeks. He silently put an arm around you, pulling you close to him. You like when he does that.

When all of the hosts are swooning over you like this while wearing barista uniforms, you feel like the princess of a commoner cafe.

[meganslife]

Spelling Errors - P. P.

MCU!Peter Parker x Fem!reader

summary: the cute barista at your local coffee shop always spells your name wrong.

warnings: none!! pure fluff:)

a/n: ooohhh my god i am obsessed with mcu peter lately so i did something. it’s rushed and barely proofread so i’m very sorry if there’s mistakes xoxo 💋💋 enjoy lovelies

Being a regular at a coffee shop had its perks.

One, it felt safe and secure.

Two, you always knew what to order.

And three, the cute barista.

Peter Parker. He was charming, and probably the most gorgeous guy you’d ever seen. But there was one problem.

He always spelled your name wrong.

Sure, it’s okay if it happens once or twice. But every time you ordered, he spelled your name wrong. It was a good thing that he was cute, otherwise you would’ve been mad.

The adult thing to do would have been to correct him– but it has been a year of ordering the same couple of drinks. It would have been very awkward to correct him now, a year deep into flirting and being a regular.

You hadn’t been to the coffee shop in a few days. The flu was kicking your ass. You started to feel slightly better at the three-day mark of being sick, so you walked down to the coffee shop. Hopefully, your go-to drink will make you feel better.

You walk in through a secret back door, mostly because you want to sneak up on Peter. You could only pray that he was working today.

“Your girl hasn’t been here in a bit, Peter,” One of his coworkers says, and you hear a sigh from your hiding spot in the secret hallway.

Peter groans, “Don’t remind me, Ned!”

A mug drops on the floor, and that’s your cue to walk up to the counter.

Peter is cleaning up the mess when you walk over, and he practically senses that you’re there.

“Hey,” You smile, “Made a mess?”

He grins, “I’ll be with you in a second.”

You wait by the counter, making occasional eye contact with his coworker, who you assume is Ned.

Peter eventually comes to the counter, asking if you want your go-to order. You say yes, and he gets on making it.

When he hands you the to-go cup, your name is spelled right, and his phone number is on it.

“You spelled my name right!” You beam, before slapping a hand over your mouth.

Peter turns around. “I was spelling your name wrong?”

You sigh.

“I should’ve told you, I know, but it was too late! By the time I noticed, you’d been spelling it wrong for almost a year. I’m sorry,” You explain. Ned snorts behind the counter, causing you and Peter to shoot daggers at him.

Peter looks at you after a while of awkward silence, his gaze soft and hesitant.

“Call me, okay?” He says, smiling widely.

Your throat kind of goes dry as you say, “I will.”

“Okay,” Peter smiles, “Well, you need to leave. You’re distracting me.”

A laugh erupts from you as you walk out. “Am I banned?”

“Just for today.”

[sleepynoons]

dr. ratio x gn!reader, sfw, not beta read

cw: explicit language

notes: college!au ratio is scrumptious + i love trying new characterizations of such a well-written character. some emotional angst regarding insecurities + never feeling good enough. platonic btw, though feelings spark at the end. also, requests are now open – please read all of my acc + request rules, which are linked in my nav. finally, repeat after me: YOUR HOBBIES DON'T HAVE TO BE YOUR JOBS.

YOU HAVE got to be shitting me.

you gawk as you stare at the student across from you. piercing eyes, gold laurel accessory adorning indigo hair, apron crisp and clean – why the hell is the veritas ratio here?

you’re a simple student. day and night, you’re studying to pass your classes and working a part-time shift as a barista at a local café to scrape in a little bit of extra cash. the difference between you and ratio is more than the distance between heaven and earth. the only time you ever interacted with your college’s “legendary genius” was at a study review session for one of your classes that he happened to be a teaching assistant for.

the first ten minutes of the session were wasted because ratio was criticizing the hell out of another student. to be fair, the latter was acting like an asshole. you had overheard some of the snarky comments they made about ratio as you all were waiting outside the classroom. but ratio was equally, if not more, biting and ruthless as he made comeback after comeback after comeback. you didn’t have a good opinion of him either. and so, you snuck out of the review session and never attended one led by ratio again.

you try to shift your expression into a more amicable one as you sit down next to him. out of all the places to meet him again, you would have never predicted it to be at your favorite pottery studio.

it’s fine, you think, it’s not like he knows who i am.

you’re not good at pottery – mediocre at it, at best. but the feeling of the wet clay against your hands, how pliable and cool and malleable it is, is soothing. even the sheer act of throwing a ball of it onto the wheel is stress-relieving. you frequent this studio once every few weeks or so, and it’s become something of a third home to you, a place that you can run away to really at any time.

ratio has accolades in the arts as well, especially renowned for his sculptures, so pottery doesn’t seem too farfetched. yet you’ve never seen him here before.

you’re deep in thought, until a steady voice interrupts with a call of your name.

you perk up, looking around. another call of your name. there’s no one else in the vicinity besides you and ratio.

you squeak in surprise. “oh! yes, um, hi, ratio! what’s up?”

ratio’s response shocks you. he asks, “i am having trouble with pulling the sides of my bowl up. would you mind showing me how to do it?”

what. ratio needs help – and your help at that? you quickly pull yourself together, though, because you’d rather not get berated by him.

“y-yeah, sure,” you acquiesce. “what are you trying to make?”

for the next hour or so, you guide ratio through the very few basics of pottery that you’ve become acquainted with. of course, ratio catches on very speedily, but contrary to your initial impression of him, he listens with rapt attentiveness and asks questions only when necessary. the final result is a round bowl with scalloped edges.

during your next visit to the studio, which is a week later, you run into ratio at the entrance. you both nod politely in recognition, remaining in silence as the studio manager helps the two of you set up. this time, ratio does not reach out to you. you notice that ratio creates another of the bowl he made (and you helped with) last week.

you don’t visit the studio again until a month later. midterms season plus additional shifts at the café because a coworker had quit without a two-week notice took up all of your time. yet, here ratio was again, already throwing as you settle at your station.

it’s weird, really. when and why did ratio pick up pottery? no one else on campus seemed to know – indicative by the lack of gossip regarding the genius –, and after a brief exchange with the studio staff that you’ve become familiar with, they thought he was simply a new frequenter.

you’re suddenly feeling courageous. maybe it’s because of the accumulated stress from the past month or the lack of caffeine, but regardless, you’re feeling bold enough to initiate conversation with ratio.

so you start easy, to seem casual. “hi, ratio,” you chirp, even adding in a small wave to appear extra friendly.

he glances up and nods before concentrating back on his work. you take that as your cue to get started as well. 

after half an hour, from the corner of your eye, you see ratio pause his wheel and stretch, judging and evaluating the progress he’s made. you notice that he’s making something new, a wide plate with a shallow rim.

“nice work,” you offer.

“thank you,” he states.

you sigh. now, you’re just getting irritated. going about this in a roundabout way is clearly not working.

you set down your tools and stare right at ratio. “i’m curious,” you ask, “why pottery? i’ve never seen you here.”

“you’re not here often either.”

you groan internally. of course he’s focused on the trees instead of the forest. “i come often enough to know the other regulars, and you were definitely not one of them up until a month ago.”

ratio breaks away from his work and looks back at you. even though you’ve seen him in person a few times now, his eyes always manage to glimmer so beautifully that they steal your breath away. “is one not allowed to pick up a new hobby? or are your conceptions of a so-called ‘genius’ limited to that of a naturally gifted workaholic?”

you have to think for a moment before responding. ratio seems rather uncomfortable with the term “genius.”

you muse, “maybe. you’re the closest thing to being a genius that i know, and you seem to be winning awards all the time. that can’t be possible if you’re not working hard all the time. but… it’s good to know that pottery’s just a fun activity for you.”

he asks, “is it for you?”

“yeah, i think it is.” you smile, though it’s more for yourself. “look, i’m not particularly gifted at anything, not even at pottery. but that’s fine because you don’t have to turn your hobbies into work.”

“i don’t agree with you.” you tilt your head in confusion, slightly wary because you don’t want to debate or argue. ratio continues, “the notion of separating work from hobbies is clear, but claiming that you are not particularly gifted is unnecessary self-deprivation, no? i’ve seen your work from class, and it’s very obvious you have certain strengths.”

you roll your eyes and scoff. “that doesn’t mean i’m talented at anything. everyone has strengths, that’s true, but it’s not like i’m doing anything impressive enough to get on the front page of our university newspaper.”

ratio states your name, but it sounds more like a stern rebuke. “i don’t take pride in being called a genius.”

“why? because you didn’t get nominated last year?”

he corrects, “for the past few years.”

the genius society, the most prestigious nonprofit in the world, offers a scholarship program that selects and nurtures the brightest college students globally. despite all of the research and leadership ratio has contributed, he has never once been accepted, let alone waitlisted, for the program.

you think you have a better idea of the kind of person ratio is. maybe he’s more like the sun to your earth, more tender-hearted and relatable than you had assumed.

“make sure the clay is evenly distributed in the center of the plate,” you note. you know he doesn’t need empty words of sympathy or comfort.

“i will.”

the two of you work until you’re both done; he finishes his plate and you a medium-sized soup bowl because you had accidentally shattered the only one you had.

before you leave, though, ratio calls out to you. (you notice you like the way he says your name.)

he says, “please, call me veritas.”

you chuckle and nod. (he notices he likes the sound of your laugh.) 

“i’ll see you soon, veritas.”

[zorosdimples]

i love a loser man.

not the kind that you see in stereotypical teen movies, wearing glasses and scruffy clothes, getting turned down by the popular girl. that guy isn’t a loser, really—he’s just an awkward teen.

i love a loser man who has a shitty job or a “good” job that he hates. he can barely keep it together. he looks like he hasn’t slept in days not because he’s unhygienic or doesn’t care; he’s simply overworked and underpaid and probably on antidepressants. the barista at his local coffee shop has his order memorized and worries if he doesn’t show up at 7:30 am on the dot.

i love a loser man who flounders horribly at dates and has sworn off love (in words, not in theory) because it takes too much time and effort; failed relationship after failed relationship makes him think that maybe he’s fated to be a bachelor. he’s a romantic at heart, and sure he get lonely—but that’s why he adopted a cat.

i love a loser man who has a wry sense of humor. he hasn’t given up on life and he certainly doesn’t hate women or blame anyone else for his problems. he just laughs at the fact that he probably has the worst luck in the universe, and that he’s more mediocre than he thought he was when he was younger.

i love a loser man who is shocked when you show an interest in him despite all his flaws. who feels young again as you get to know one another; who thinks he has a new lease on life when you confess your feelings; who never thought his clumsiness or bad luck could be charming.

he’s still a loser at heart, yes, but he’s happy. and that’s enough for him. he doesn’t need anything more.

[tinkerbelle05]

Hey :)

Characters: Jaime Reyes x Barista!reader

Summary: You're a barista working at a local coffee shop, and Jaime is this cute stranger who comes in every day at 9 am for his coffee.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none :)

You saw this guy every morning at your shop. He would come in at 9 am and order a cup of coffee. He’d always get a flat black and sometimes a mocha. Which led you to believe he was taken.

Which why wouldn’t he be? Beautiful smile, nice dark hair, warm brown eyes.

“An order for Jaime Reyes,” you called out and he walked over to the counter.

“Yep, a flat black right?” he asked and you nodded along. You gave him his coffee and he gave you his money.

This little interaction, which was maybe 5-15 minutes, has taken up most of your day as you recount them in your memory. You so wanted to ask him out. But you already established that he was taken.

But maybe you jumped to conclusions too quickly. You went into coffee shops to order something for your friends and family multiple times. So why couldn't Jaime being doing the exact same thing.

“You should write your number on the receipt,” your sister suggests to you.

Both of you are lounging in the living room, channel surfing.

You give her look, “What if that’s too forward and he likes, rejects me.”

She shrugs her shoulders, “Then you cry for a week and move on with life. The worst that he can say is no.”

You shake your head at her, “Um me and you both know that is not true.”

But maybe she had a point? Truly, what did you have to lose? He says no and you get embarrassed. What you have to gain is that you get a date with a cute guy you've been crushing on.

“Okay, fine, fine. I'll do it tomorrow morning.”

You walked into your shop that morning on your feet and just doing work. If you are doing work then you can't get nervous about this really, really dumb plan.

And on the dot at 9 am, Jaime walked in with a wave, “You know what I want, right?”

You chuckle a bit, “Flat Black, right? With the Mocha or no?” Your already getting the cups out.

He shakes his head, “Nah, not today.”

You nod your head and worked on his drink as he waits patiently. Now was the time to do it. You wrote your name on the cup along with your name.

“Jaime!” you called out and exchanged the cup for his money. He gives you wave and walks out with the drink.

You took a deep breath and went on with your day. You would be lying if you said that you didn't check your phone for the texts ever so often.

Then at night, when you are about to fall asleep, your phone dings.

It's Jaime, “Hey :)”

If you screamed you into your pillow for a minute, no you most definitely did not.

Tags: @losingmywayyyy, @nightwingandhissquad, @champagnelovers101, @shslsimpette, @asvterias, @wintersdeadd

Taglist & Anonlist & Masterlist & Reqs Info & 500 Followers Celebration!!

[wandafiction]

Drunk

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, very drunk reader, reader gets sick, mentions of blood.

You are sitting on one of the many empty stools at the not so empty bar nursing your third whiskey, or was it fourth? Maybe fifth? The party is in full swing, the birthday boy (Tony Stark) is currently giving a speech on stage. Something about how you only turn 48 once and that people should leave their many gifts for him on the stage. You scoff to yourself, sure you and Tony were friends, but you swear- sometimes - even you wonder why,  when he is so far stuck up his own ass you're sure he can see the daylight coming from his mouth when he speaks. Because my god could that man speak. 

So here you are sitting, drinking, on your own because your girlfriend is currently on a mission and you hate coming to this sort of things without her. Not because you were an antisocial, ball of anxiety…Okay maybe you are…. But you also didn’t know anyone here, not really, you weren’t an avenger like she was. You were just a regular barista at the local coffee shop that just so happened to be the one she would go to every morning for her morning shot of go go juice after going for a run. What you didn’t realise, not until she told you recently, was she only kept coming back to work up the courage to talk to you. 

You smile to yourself just thinking about it. 

You down the rest of your drink taking a look around all the party goers seeing only those she has introduced you to and those you see around the tower when you visit. You see Tony dancing with a drink in one hand swinging his top above his head with the other, cringing slightly at the sight of the drunk man. You spot Steve over on the couches talking to Sam and Bucky on the other couch, all three of them with a beer in hand as they seem lost in the conversation they are having. You smile when you see Bruce raise his drink at you in a small greeting from the other end of the bar, lifting yours in return before you watch him walk over to try and get Tony, who was now trying to rip his pants off as he stood on one of the many tables, away from people. 

“Well what is such a thing like you doing here all on your lonesome?” You turn quickly at the unknown voice behind you squinting your eyes with scrunched brows as you try to see if you recognise the woman. 

“Thing?” It’s now you realise that maybe those five whiskeys, or could it have been seven, were not such a good idea as you struggle to keep your focus on the blonde woman in front of you. Or women, not sure if you were seeing three of her or if there were three different people in front of you.

“Well I saw you enter with Tony Stark himself so I believe I am only right in thinking you must be an avenger, and one of your beauty must be a goddess.” At her words you snort, quickly using your hand to cover your nose and mouth waving the other one at her as your face turns bright red. 

“Goddess?” The three women that you see now merge together, in your drunken state, finally able to see the blonde woman in front of you who has a small smirk on her lips.

“Well now I feel stupid. Are you not a goddess?” You shake your head quickly, not missing how when the woman takes a seat next to you she pulls the stool closer so her knees can rest against yours, but you try to angle your body away from hers not wanting to give her the wrong impression. 

“I am most definitely not a goddess. Just plain old human being.” She gives you a small nod turning to grab the bartender's attention and ordering you both new drinks.

“Okay, well, I’m a normal human being too. You got a name?” 

“Is Y/n. Y/n y/l/n.” You slur out at your hand grabs out for the new drink the bartender has put in front of you.

“Aren’t you going to ask mine?” You shake your head downing your drink as the one woman blurs into more than one again. 

“Sure. What is your name blondie?”

“The names Jessica. But you can call me Jess.” 

“Well thank you for the drink Jesssssssica.” You giggle as you over pronounce her name leaning back slightly on your stool, Jess seeing the opportunity to place her hand on your leg.

“Sorry, I didn't want you to fall backwards.” She answers when she sees you look down at her hand.

“Mhmm, thanks. Anyway, do you not have anyone around here you should be hanging out with?” Even in your drunken state you know what her aim is and you know it's definitely not something you want.

“No. I’m enjoying drinking with you.”

“Well this is my last one before I leave this place.”

“Can I join you? The party is kind of lame.”

“No, I am just gonna head to the sleeping chambers and try to sleep this off.” You try to pull her hand off your thigh but she is persistent and fights against it.

“Oh you’re no fun. I just wanted to spend the night with you, get to know that amazing body. Then maybe in the morning I can show you the best way to get rid of a hangover.”

“Sorry I am really not interested.” She scrunches her brows leaning closer to you with a pout on her lips.

“Come one, I know you want to.”

“I'm sorry I really don’t and I am in a relationship.” You think the woman rolls her eyes, and maybe you hear her scoff but you definitely don't miss the way her eyes bulge out of her head as she looks behind you, and you don’t miss the feeling of a pair of strong hands landing on your shoulders. 

“I’m just going to…” She slowly removes herself from the stool leaving money to cover both of your drinks. “It was nice meeting you.” 

With that she scurries off and you scrunch your brows, turning around to see who is behind you but the 8, maybe more drinks, have once and for all won the battle of making everything blurry and your words a slurred mess. The hands give your shoulders a small squeeze and your head turns left to right to look at either hand. They are dirty, maybe have some blood on them and when you look up at them their face is not much better. 

You take in her beauty. The red hair, green eyes are all you are able to identify mixed with the dirt and the blood on her face. You can see a small look of worry, amusement and something else as her brows furrow as her eyes scan your face.

“I’m sorry. As I just told blondie I have a girlfriend.”

“Is that so?” You nod your head quickly, humming out a yes as the woman only giggles to herself.

“I think it is time for your bed, detka.” You pout, shaking your head quickly.

“But I want to stay up and see my girlfriend, she should be home soon.” The hands on your shoulders move to cup your face tilting your head to look up at her.

“You really don’t know who I am.” Her tone is amused as you push her hands off your face.

“I already told you I have a girlfriend. And she wouldn’t appr-apprec-apprecia….she wouldn’t like you flirting with me.” Once again the woman only laughs, and you scrunch your brows as it sounds vaguely familiar but can’t quite place it.

“How about this? I help get you to bed, and when you wake up I am sure your kind, loving and drop dead gorgeous girlfriend will be there when you wake up.” You take a moment to think about it, looking the woman up and down every second she becomes more familiar and if she is familiar then you’re sure you can trust her.

“Okay. Thank you. My girlfriend would kill me if she knew how drunk I was right now.”

“I’m not angry, in fact it is quite amusing, but I think we do need to get you in bed to rest.” You look up to the woman as she leads you down the hallway, seemingly knowing where Natasha’s room is.

“Hey, how did you know?” The woman turns to look at you with a raised brow as she opens the door and you stumble inside as she lets go of you for a moment to close the door.

You stumble into the room, cursing as you trip over your own feet and fall with your side hitting the bed and landing on the floor with a hmph. You bring your hand up to rub at your side, the other pulling at the covers on the bed to help you stand but it does nothing as the moment you yank the covers they move and you end up falling on the floor again.

“Fuck it. This is where I am sleeping I guess.” You mumble to yourself, reaching for the blanket that you know is on the bed somewhere behind you.

“Hey, let's get you off the floor my love.” You gasp as you look up to see your girlfriend in front of you moving her arms so they are under yours.

“Baby!” You squeal as you wrap your arms around her pushing yourself forwards causing Natasha to stumble backwards and land on the floor herself. 

“Oh so now you recognize me?” You push yourself up slightly, your hands either side of her head so you can look down at her.

“What do you mean?” You tilt your head in question and Natasha raises a brow.

“You mean you don’t remember the past 10….okay nevermind.” She places her hands on your waist gently pushing you off her so she can stand up, your arms moving to hold her hips as you struggle to stand yourself. “Let's get you to bed.”

“Yes! Take me to bed lovergirl!” You jump, knowing Natasha will easily catch you, wrapping your legs around her waist and your arms around her neck as you litter her face with drunken and very sloppy kisses.

Natasha lets you continue smothering her face with kisses as she places you down on the edge of the bed, your body naturally falling backwards; dragging Natasha with you by your arms around her neck. Her hands move out to catch herself so she doesn’t land on top of you and instead hovering above you. You try to use your arms to pull her down more but pout when you realise she isn’t going to budge.

“You can’t be on top of me and not top me baby.” You pout more as your hands start playing with the baby hairs on her neck. “You know I can’t resist you when I see you from this angle.” 

“Not tonight detka. Firstly, you are very drunk and in no way can give consent to anything. Secondly, I’m covered in blood and dirt. Thirdly, you are drunk.”

“Maybe you’re drunk silly because you already said that once.” You giggle as you boop her nose with one hand causing her to roll her eyes at your drunken state.

“Let's get you changed and in bed.” You hum as you close your eyes but only for a second as your brain registers what she said a few seconds ago.

“Wait, blood and dirt?” You push her off of you gently as you sit up, suddenly feeling completely sober in your worried state as your hands and eyes search her body and face for injury.

“It's not mine.” You don’t hear her as your hands grab hers, turning them over multiple times trying to figure out why there is so much blood, but she quickly removes her hands from yours cupping your face and tilting your head so you’re looking at her. “Hey, hey. It’s not mine, my love. It’s not mine.”

“Not yours.” Your voice trembles as you mumble the words back to her and Natahsa nods her head brushing some hair out of your face.

“It’s not mine.” She repeats softly back to you as you look back up to her about to say something but your body says otherwise.

Quickly you’re off the bed and running into the bathroom only just making it to the toilet as the contents of however many drinks you’ve had, surely it was 10. Or maybe 12.Your knuckles turn white with how hard you are holding the sides of the toilet, coughing as the vomiting subsides for the moment. You don’t dare move your head from where it rests on the top of the toilet seat, too afraid that any movement will cause your stomach to turn.

“Oh detka.” Natasha crouches down to your height holding a small cup of water towards you, as her other hand reaches to pull the flush. “Don’t drink too much too quickly otherwise you will make yourself sick, just rinse your mouth out for a moment. 

You lazily nod your head, now feeling the room spin as you do so the feeling of sick raising again. You shut your eyes tightly, your hand that's holding the cup shaking slightly as your body tries to recover from already throwing up, and Natasha seems to take notice as she removes the cup from your hand placing it on the floor next to her. She moves closer to you, her hands going to your hair as she does it up in a messy bun as her eyes stay trained mostly to your face watching carefully for any changes in your appearance. Just as she finishes tying your hair your body lurches forward as another round of vomiting up alcohol begins.

You don’t know how long your head has been down the toilet for, or how long Natasha has simply stayed by your side but what you do know is your throat hurts and there are tears rolling down your face from throwing up. You did eventually stop, and you cleaned your teeth next to the toilet just in case. You lean against Natasha more as she wraps an arm around your shoulders pulling you against her as you both slowly move to lean against the wall of the bathroom.

“I’m sorry Tasha.” Nat is quick to silence you as she shakes her head, pressing a kiss to your temple as she uses her finger and thumb on your chin to turn your head.

“Do not apologise detka. You have nothing to apologise for.” Your bottom lip temples a little as Nat moves a hand to wipe at your tears, your head instinctively leaning into the touch.

“I do. You came back from a mission, and instead of sorting yourself out you’ve been stuck looking after me.” 

“Hush.” She presses her finger against your lips, once and for all stopping you from talking, you knew she was serious by the look she was giving you and it made you shrink back a little bit. “I am not angry, or mad or maybe a little frustrated but that's more to do with the fact that that woman was flirting with you when you were clearly too drunk to even know what was going on. Now let's get you into bed, then I will sort myself out and join you.”

Natasha helped you off the cold bathroom floor leading you back to the bedroom and once again placing you on the bed, this time making sure she had a hold of your body so you didn’t fall backwards. Your eyes start to feel heavy, closing slowly as you feel Natasha start to undo the few buttons on your blouse before lifting it over your head and in the next moment removing your bra. She pushes your body slightly, giggling when you flop backwards so she can unbutton your pants and remove them with some struggle as they get stuck on around your ankles for a second. 

The next moment your arms are being pulled and your body moves off the bed so you are sitting back up. You open your eyes with a goofy smile on your face as you see Natasha grabbing one of her shirts for you to wear. You lift your arms above your head earning a small chuckle and a kiss on the forehead from your girlfriend as she slides the top on you.

“Crawl into bed then baby I won’t be long.” 

You were already nearly asleep, your body and mind exhausted from being drunk and then throwing it all back up, laying on your back because you felt to sick to lay any other way when you feel the bed dip and the covers move slightly. Natasha leves a small kiss on your cheek as she shuffles as close to you as possible without being on top of you knowing it would not help you right now. Her hand rests on your sternum, her finger drawing small shapes as she looks up at you from where her head rests just next to your shoulder. 

“I love you, you big idiot.” You smile tiredly, peeking one eye open to look down at her.

“I love me too.” You giggle as she hits your chest gently rolling her eyes. “I’m joking, I love you too.”

“Good because next time you are dealing with a drunk me.” You smile closing your eyes again as you let your body completely relax again teetering on the edge of sleep, as Natasha’s hand continues to draw patterns on your chest. 

“I would love to see a drunk Natasha.” Is the last thing you mumble before letting sleep consume you not hearing Natasha’s next words.

“I’m so gonna marry you one day you drunken fool.”

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

[forlovvers]

( your fault! )

pair: sunghoon x f!reader | genre: fluff, just a tad suggestive, e2??? | warning(s): a soaked white shirt, one swear word lol | wc: 1k ish | synopsis: in which you and sunghoon are very late for school.

lynne’s notez 🗒️ : another consistent post .. who am i

something about you gets under park sunghoon’s skin. normally, he’s calm and collected, but whenever you enter the room it’s like you make it your life’s goal to annoy him to ends meet. you’re constantly poking at him and making small remarks about the way he pushes his hair back or the way his handwriting wasn’t perfect. 

“why’s your jacket unbuttoned? tryna impress someone, park?” you’d say, drawing his name out. and he’d intentionally roll his eyes, making sure you saw it. while thinking of a snotty comeback, sunghoon would slyly button up his jacket (the unbuttoned thing was suggested by niki, why sunghoon took the younger’s advice is beyond him). maybe he was upset because you were right or the fact that the person who he was trying to impress didn’t give him a second glance. either way, park sunghoon wasn’t very happy that day. 

and of course, you were the one person he bumped into while being late to school. sunghoon had decided that maybe he’d treat himself to some coffee before his classes, but the new barista was very clumsy and had to remake his favorite drink twice! so much that it didn’t even taste like his favorite drink anymore. 

while turning the last corner to school, you just had to be in the way. it was almost like the heavens above were punishing him for skipping that one skating practice in eighth grade. 

when the two of you collide, sunghoon’s drink goes flying from his hands and because the new barista doesn’t know how to put on the top properly, the contents of his iced mocha land across your white button-up and it immediately soaks through the light material. 

“park! are you serious!” you yell suddenly, your hands flying up in frustration. you were already having the worst day. firstly, your alarm was set to 7pm instead of 7am and all of your school blazers had not been done drying since you put them in the washing machine last night. on top of all this you just had to run to into park sunghoon and his stupid iced mocha. 

the coffee stains your shirt and you can feel it bleed through the thin fabric, leaving a big black mark across your chest and the unmistakable smell of strong coffee mixing with your perfume. you swear under your breath, reaching up to try and wipe it off with no luck. 

you spot a hose attached to the side of a local fish shop, you were sure the owner wouldn’t mind if you used it. without a second thought, you walk over and detach the hose and grab a bucket from the stack nearby (hopefully it hadn’t been filled with fishes beforehand). 

sunghoon watches you dumbly as you continue to fill up the bucket. “what are you doing?” he asks and walks over to you to get a closer look. you’ve already pulled your hair to the side as you hand him the bucket. 

“you want me to do the ice bucket challenge on you?” sunghoon’s eyes widen at the odd request and you want to strangle him. this was no time for jokes. 

“are you an idiot? just pour a little on my shirt to get the stain out. i can’t show up to class an hour late and dirty clothes.” you say irritatingly. you tug on the shirt to get it as far from your skin as possible and pray sunghoon doesn’t get any water on your pants. 

“doesn’t this need soap?” sunghoon hesitantly raises the bucket up. although he might hate your guts, dowsing you in fish shop water didn’t seem the most appropriate way to go about this. 

“just do it.”

“okay nike,” sunghoon gently pours the water over the stain, careful to not let too much spill out. the more he pours, the more he realizes how close the two of you are and how your shirt seems to become more and more transparent. 

your shirt is practically see-through and sunghoon really does try to polite about it without spilling water all over you, but it’s quite hard to contain the water without properly looking at you. there’s a pink that dusts his cheeks and he can’t help but want to bang his head onto a wall. 

deciding he’s had enough, sunghoon abruptly drops the bucket to the floor and starts to shrug off his own blazer. he was a gentleman, of course. “wear this.” is all he says, dropping it into your hands. 

you eye him suspiciously but take it any way with a small nod of thanks. “this is all your fault yknow?” you say, buttoning his blazer up. it was a bigger than your own, but you should be able to still get away with it at school. 

“my fault?” sunghoon says in disbelief. he can’t believe he just gave you his blazer (which he might get written up for for not having) just for you to say that. “it’s not my fault you have a shit sense of direction.” he defends himself surely.

“whatever you say, park.” the nickname rolls off your tongue smoothly and the more you use it, the sweeter it sounds to sunghoon. once you finish putting on the blazer, you reach for your previously discarded backpack, but sunghoon beats you to it.

“what are you doing?” you throw him a confused look as he pulls the straps of your bag over his shoulder. 

“it’s the least i could do, i mean it’s my fault, right?” a boyish grin tugs at sunghoon’s lips and he starts walking ahead, forcing you to catch up.

you aren’t sure if it’s his teasing tone, his rolled up sleeves exposing his arms or his stupid smile, but you begin to see sunghoon in a different light.

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 65)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Triggers, Smut

The following morning, Cillian had to get up early again for the filming and you decided to spend a day in town with Mara, leaving early as well.

On your way to the local tram station, you swung by the local coffee shop to get a drink and a croissant, and this is when you saw her again, Annabelle, walking into the shop with another woman in tow, chatting away happily. 

"I honestly do not know what Cillian even sees in her. She is so bland and too young to have any kind of experience, you know," she was saying, not noticing your presence in the corner. 

"But they had a kid together, Belle. So, no matter what, she will stick around even if you get your chance with him," the other woman replied, rolling her eyes.

Your grip on your coffee cup tightened, the heat making the ceramic burn your hand as you listened in on their conversation. But it wasn't just the words that pierced through you, but the way she said them. It was disrespectful and you were worried about her intentions. 

"I honestly think that he is just keeps her around because of the kid. There is no way that he would actually be in love with her," Annabelle retorted back, not noticing the blush on your cheeks from the nearby corner whish is when, finally, the barista called out to Annabelle, letting her know that her coffee was ready.

As she picked up her coffee from the counter, she noticed  your presence out of the corner of her eye and she smiled curtly at you.

"Hey, good morning, Y/N," she said in passing, heading out of the coffee shop before you could even respond. "Big day on set today," she cheered on, and you let out a huff of frustration, feeling a cold dread settling at the pit of your stomach.

"That's bullshit," you muttered under your breath. A flicker of annoyance flashed across your face, and you did what you would usually do in an instance like this. You called your best friend Emma and asked her for advice after telling her that, just last night, Cillian and you rekindled your romance before mentioning Annabelle and her antics.

"Oh, I knew it! I knew you would get back together," Emma exclaimed, her voice vibrating with excitement on the other end of the phone call. "This is exactly what you needed!" she added, her tone warm and comforting.

"I suppose it is," you confirmed, still stewing over the encounter with Annabelle. "But then why on earth am I so goddamn jealous all of a sudden." 

"Because he did cheat and because there are rumors about them, so I would say it is understandable," Emma reasoned and you kept on vending. 

"I suppose you are right," you said again before taking a quick pause and then continuing. "She's so fucking unbearable though, Em and I cannot just stand for it," you sighed as you paced around your newly shared home. "I mean, I know I can't control who Cillian films with, and I won't be making a scene, but she just seems so manipulative and insincere, it worries me."

"I know Y/N," Emma said, her voice coming through the phone loud and clear. "And here is what you are going to do," she added, her voice brimming with determination. "You are going to call Cillian to see whether he could show you and Mara around on set today and when he does, you will mark your territory,"  Emma emphasized, her voice just a little louder with every word. "Make yourself known as his girlfriend. Give him a little PDA and a big passionate kiss, right in front of her,"  Emma said, and you could almost imagine her wagging her finger at you.

You couldn't help but laugh at her fierce tone. "Oh god, I am not this kind of girlfriend, Em. Cillian would know something is up if I did that," you replied, a little worried about the plan Emma just proposed to you.

"Well, you either do that or you confront her at his workplace and make a huge scene. Because you are not going to let her disrespect you like that, are you?" Emma's tone was stern and even a little disappointed in you for not sticking up for yourself.

"Alright. Okay. You are right. I will stick up for myself," you confirmed, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. "I will call Cillian and ask him about the set visit, and then I will make sure that Annabelle gets the hint." 

"Good for you! And if she tries to be rude again, just tell Cillian. He can sort it out," Emma offered helpfully, and you knew she was right.

After hanging up the phone, you took a moment to gather your thoughts before dialing Cillian's number. He picked up after the second ring, sounding a little groggy, probably because he didn't get much sleep last night as you had a lot of intimate catching up to do.

"Hey, it's me. I know you are busy, but I was wondering if maybe Mara and I could come by the set later and visit," you asked hopefully, crossing your fingers as you waited for his response.

"I would love for you and Mara to visit," Cillian said, sounding genuinely happy. "But I think this morning's schedule is really packed, especially since we are reshooting a few scenes. So, how about lunch? I have break around one I think and then I've got about an hour to show you around," he said, his voice warm and inviting. 

"Awesome. I will be there at one , then," you replied, already feeling a bit of excitement bubbling in your chest at the idea of seeing Cillian in his work environment, as well as the prospect of seeing Annabelle's reaction when you show up. You knew it was a little petty, but you could not help it. You needed her to see her place and being there would clearly send the right message. 

When you arrived at just before one o'clock that day, the set was bustling with activity, but Cillian was true to his word.

At exactly one o'clock, he met you and Mara in front of the soundstage, looking every bit the leading man he was.

"Dada," Mara cried out, beaming up at him as she walked towards him and Cillian swept her up into his arms, planting a kiss on her cheek.

"There's my little angel," he said, grinning broadly before giving her a kiss and walking towards you, carrying her at the same time. 

"Hi," you smiled at him shyly and he wasted no time to  approach you and press a lingering kiss to your lips, making you blush at the public display of affection.

"Come on, I will show you around," Cillian said with a wink, taking you and Mara on a tour of the set. As you walked through the bustling area, Cillian greeted the cast and crew with ease, showing you the different sets and introducing you to a few of his colleagues whom you have not met yet.

You couldn't help but be in awe of the whole process, watching as the cameras rolled and scenes were shot. 

"This is so weird. All those people and cameras," you turned to Cillian with a surprised expression on your face, shaking your head slightly.

"I know, right?" Cillian chuckled. "I don't think I will ever get used to it," he told you just before you ran into Cillian assistant, Lindsay, whom you knew very well. 

"Ah Mara is here," she said excitedly, bending down to give Mara a kiss on the cheek. "Is your dad giving you and Gigi a tour? That must be pretty boring, huh?"  Lindsay asked, smiling wryly at Mara before turning to Cillian. "Do you want me to take her for half an hour so you can show Y/N around properly? We could hang in the staff room and have some cake and maybe play with Gigi?"  Lindsay asked, gesturing towards a building in the distance.

Cillian looked at you for confirmation, and you nodded your approval. "That sounds great," you said, smiling gratefully at Lindsay before thanking her for her generous offer.

"Alright then Mara, let's go huh," she said, as she held out her hand to Mara, who took it without hesitation. "We'll bring cake for you too, Y/N," she called out over her shoulder as they walked away.

Cillian chuckled and turned to you with a grin. "Lindsay adores her," he told you, seeing how, even when you were not together, you kept in touch with his assistant and she even attended Mara's birthday party with a present. 

"She sure does,"  you agreed, watching as Lindsay and Mara disappeared into the crowd of staff before turning back to Cillian. "Shall we then?" you asked, raising your eyebrow and taking his hand, letting him know that you were ready to proceed with the tour, and maybe even cause a little drama while you were at it.

As you walked through the set together, you soon ran into the person you were hoping to see, namely Annabelle  . She was chatting with a colleague, but as soon as she noticed you and Cillian approaching, she stopped talking and looked at you with narrowed eyes.

She noticed right away that you and Cillian were holding hands, which was new to her seeing how, until last night, you were still separated  .

Annabelle's gaze lingered on your joined hands for a little too long, and this made you feel more powerful than ever.

You couldn't help but smile at her as you walked past her, your grip on Cillian's hand tightening slightly.

Cillian seemed to notice the tension between the two of you, and he made a point of leaning in closer to you, his free arm wrapping around your waist as he whispered in your ear, "Why are you so jealous?" 

You shrugged and looked up at him. "I don't know. I guess because I just don't trust her," you replied quietly, not wanting to admit the real reason why you were feeling so jittery, namely because of what you had overheard this morning.

"But you need to trust me and the only woman I want is you,"

Cillian replied, his tone sincere and earnest as he looked into your eyes, trying to get you to understand the seriousness of what he was saying.

"I know, I know. I just can't help it," you admitted, giving him a small smile, grateful that he understood where you were coming from.

You walked a bit further together, Cillian pointing out different things around the set, before you found yourselves walking towards Annabelle again.

She was now standing alone, looking at the both of you with daggers in her eyes.

"Steven wants to reshoot at two," she simply told him, ignoring your presence for the moment  as she looked at the schedule on her phone.

Cillian nodded, looking at his own schedule before nodding in agreement. "This means we still have half an hour and a bit," he told you. "Is there something else you wanted to see before we grab Mara from the staff room?"

Cillian asked, looking at you with a faint smile. You couldn't help but appreciate how patient and understanding he was being, given the circumstances. Instead of getting angry or dismissive about your jealousy, he was doing his best to alleviate your fears and reassure you of his devotion.

"Actually, yes, do you have a trailer?" you asked. "I know that most actors have them and I was always rather curious about what's inside,"   you stated, making your intentions clear and while Annabelle got the hint, Cillian certainly did not.

"I do, but it's nothing special. It's just, well, a trailer," Cillian chuckled, oblivious to what you were suggesting.

"Show me," you prompted him nonetheless  , a cheeky smile playing on your lips.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts @blondie-22

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

[the-guilty-writer]

Pick Your Poison

Request: from @doctorsteeb OH YOU SAY YOU NEED MORE ROSSI!DAUGHTER REQUEST?? I AM HERE I HAVE ARRIVED

Rossi!daughter being a barista and unknowingly serving BAU their coffee all the time? Then eventually learning she’s rossi’s daughter?

(Tell me if this is Too Specific I can be more vague)

David Rossi x daughter!reader, Criminal minds x platonic!reader

Summary: You've been serving coffee to the BAU team for months... imagine their shock when they learn that you're David Rossi's daughter.

A/N: Thank you so much for this request! I love writing rossi daughter. The sass, the italian nicknames, the banter- it's so much fun! I hope you enjoy this! (this does include the request of reader having studied abroad but I'm doing a seprate fic for that one as well)

CW: an absurd amount of talk about types of coffee, if you look up the meaning of rossi's nickname for reader you might cry

---

It was 4:00 AM when your shift at the coffee shop began. It didn’t open until 5:00, but you were in charge of opening the place yourself. You didn’t mind, though; it gave you time to think about how you might mess with your dad’s co-workers that day.

Rossi went back to work at the BAU just before you entered high school. With his busy work schedule, you both agreed that a boarding school close to home would be best. When it came time for college, you applied to a few schools in the States, but you had an itch to see the world. It was an incredible, well-earned surprise when you were accepted into the University of Bologna in Italy. Your dad had been incredibly supportive, and even though your extended family was dysfunctional at best, he was happy you’d be going somewhere there were relatives nearby.

You loved Italy, but after graduation you had wanted to move home and take a gap year. A friend from high school had opened a coffee shop not far from the Quantico office, and having been a barista at a local shop through college to help pay for your student costs (not that you needed it when your dad could easily afford your tuition) it was the perfect situation.

The fact that your dad’s co-workers were your most frequent customers didn’t hurt either. Not that they knew you were David Rossi’s daughter - your tag only displayed your given name - but it was interesting to have such casual interactions with the people your father spent most of his time with. And having been raised by a profiler, you had a little too much fun knowing something that the best minds in the nation didn’t.

---

It was 4:56 AM when Aaron Hotchner pushed open the door to the shop. Had it been any other customer, you would have told them that it didn’t actually open for another four minutes, but the man was there frequently enough that you really didn’t care. Plus, his order was about as simple as possible to make: a robusta medium roast from Columbia with a single shot of espresso. After only a few weeks, you noticed that he ordered an extra shot in his morning coffee about three days after a case, when the paperwork was the most heavy. This happened to be one of those days.

“Good morning, Mr. Hotchner,” you greeted him. “I’m already working on your usual this morning, unless of course you would like to try something new.” You knew he wouldn’t.

“Thank you,” he said, looking down at his watch. “Could I get an extra shot of espresso?”

You put a lid on the cup and handed it to him, moving to the register to ring him up. “Already done,” you told him.

He chuckled a bit- the smallest smile escaping his lips. “Do I really look that bad?” He handed you cash as he always did so he could leave the change in the tip jar. This morning he was either so tired he hadn’t thought about the bill he pulled out of his wallet, or he was feeling generous. By what you had heard about him from your dad, it was probably the latter.

“Not at all,” you handed him his change. “We all need the extra boost some days.”

“Thank you,” he said, putting all his change in the jar before leaving the shop.

He hurried out so quickly he didn’t even notice that you had written out his order on the board of specials for the day, calling it “The Unit Chief”.

---

As always, Spencer Reid was the first customer you served once the shop had officially opened. The doctor, unlike his boss, enjoyed exploring the different brews - always asking what region the beans had come from and giving you facts or statistics about his drink choice for that day. You listened to him ramble as you prepared him an arabica light roast grown in Asia; a bean the shop had just received.

“About a third of the world's coffee comes from Asia, but when asked the average American usually assumes that their coffee has been grown in Latin America or Africa,” he explained. “It’s also widely agreed upon by coffee enthusiasts that Asia produces the sweetest coffee.”

“Well then you won’t be needing as much sweetener as normal, Doctor,” you said as you handed him his order. “But I refilled the jar of sugar just for you.”

“Oh, thanks,” he said, grabbing three packs of sugar- two less than normal- and stuffing them into his jacket pocket. “Have a nice day!” He smiled awkwardly before turning and leaving out the door.

As soon as he left you wrote down his order on the specials board, deeming it “The Genius”. He wouldn’t notice you wrote the same words on his cup until he sat down at Quantico.

---

You weren’t quite sure who would be in to get their coffee next, but you smiled when it was Agent Jerau. There was something about the petite blonde and how easily she made conversation that brought a sense of serenity to your day. The rest of the team were very distinct- the kind of people you could look at and simply believe that they worked for the BAU- but other than being absurdly pretty, Jennifer was normal.

Even her arabica “bean of the day” cappuccino was the most common order out of all of them, with the exception that she always bought a single iced cookie to go with it.

“In all the time I’ve worked here I haven’t actually tried these cookies,” you told her as you pulled one out of the pastry display and put it in a bag.

“Neither have I,” she said. “But my son loves them.”

You thought of the little blonde boy that sometimes accompanied her and her fiance to the shop on the weekends. He always got a cup of steamed milk to look like his parents, but he always ended up dunking his cookie in it when they sat down at a table.

“I’ll have to try one then.”

The agent left before she could notice the board, which had her order paired with an iced cookie named “The Mother” written among the rest.

---

Per usual, Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia came into the shop together. You knew their flirtatious behavior was actually a demonstration of a platonic friendship, but that was only because Rossi had told you so.

“Baby Girl,” Morgan said to Garcia as you handed him his normal robusta medium roast red eye with just enough hazelnut creamer that the coffee wasn’t ridiculously bitter, “I’ve got the payment for today.”

“Derek, you know very well that I can and will hack into the system and change the credit card number to mine,” she told him, quickly glancing at you to say. “I promise I’m not stealing money from the shop. I love local businesses. If anything I would give you more money so this place stays open.”

You smiled, preparing her extremely complex order that changed slightly from day-to-day but always stayed as sweet as possible. Today it was an arabica medium roast from Ethiopia with all the fixings to complete the order into a chocolate caramel mocha.

“I’m sure my boss would appreciate that,” you told her. The idea of your father having to deal with a woman as sweet and eccentric as Penelope never failed to make you laugh.

She dug a handful of coins out of her purse to put in the tip jar before her and Morgan bid you a good day and left to go to work. You adjusted the order labeled “The Techie” to fit her drink for that day, but left Derek’s alone - “The Door Destroyer.”

---

Emily Prentiss was the last of the team to grab her coffee that morning. You were aware that she was the most observant in everyday situations, but that morning she was behind schedule by around ten minutes. Her boots clicked against the floor of the shop - lower pitched than the sound of heels but higher than those of men’s shoes. She moved fast towards the counter.

“I have your order ready,” you told her. “Robusta african dark roast latte with a double shot of espresso.”

“Thank you so much.” She paid quickly, leaving a handsome tip.

In all her rush her observation skills had faltered. Not only had she missed that she had a milk mustache, but she also didn’t see that her order on the board was labeled “The Modern Femme Fatale”.

---

“So,” Rossi said casually. “The best coffee near Quantico?”

With all the extra paperwork, the team had decided they needed extra caffeine, a short break, and some fresh air. Even Hotch thought it was a good idea, which is how David Rossi ended up walking towards the Pick Your Poison coffee shop with the rest of the BAU.

“It’s great,” Reid started. “They let you pick everything from the location, the bean type, the roast. There was this one time they got in a robusta from Brazil that-”

“Or you can just pick from their menu,” JJ told Rossi, interrupting Reid before he could go on any further. “It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

“If you say so,” Rossi replied nonchalantly.

The team filed into the cafe and he saw you working behind the counter, your hair pulled away from your face as you checked the machinery. You looked up at them as they entered, all still oblivious to the small daily specials board that had their orders on it.

They greeted you and ordered one at a time, the same thing each of them had gotten that morning, leaving Rossi for last. He smiled when he stepped up to the counter and pulled you into a hug. “Mio passerotta.”

You returned his hug, a wide smile spreading across your face. “Ciao, Papa.”

“Wait-” Emily, being the only other person in the room who spoke Italian, picked up on it first. “You’re Rossi’s daughter?”

You laughed. “Have been all my life.”

The team looked around at one another, all slightly confused.

“How did you not know that we work with your dad?” JJ asked.

You shook your head. “Oh, no. I knew. I just wanted to see how long it would take you all to figure it out.”

Morgan looked stunned, Garcia’s jaw couldn’t drop any further, and Reid was tilting his head, probably trying to pick out the similarities between you and your dad.

Hotch turned to Rossi. “Dave, care to explain?”

“It was her idea, not mine.” He held up his hands defensively.

"You've been working here for five months, three weeks, and six days," Reid said.

"That is an excellent observation, doctor," you replied. "In my dad's defense, he said I had to confess before the six month mark."

"I'm suprised it took a confession in the first place," Rossi, then turned to you. “Now, I’ll speak in English so the nerds can understand. What specials do you have today?”

“Well,” You glanced at the special’s board, “If you’re going for the most caffeine I would choose “The Unit Chief” or “The Modern Femme Fatale”. “The Door Destroyer” has the strongest flavor on the bitter side and both “The Genius” and “The Techie” lean towards sweet. I’d recommend “The Mother”, but it’s past 11 AM and we all know how la mia bisnonna feels about cappuccinos past the morning.”

The team looked around at one another in complete shock over the specials order board you had put together. A smirk crossed your face as they gawked at you ever so slightly.

Your dad chuckled. “I’ll just go with a good old fashioned un caffe, then.”

“Presto in arrivo,” you said, and got to work on everyone’s order’s, but not before adding a single shot of espresso to the board called “Mia Papa.”

[to-the-stars8]

Vigilant Coffee

Batfamily x Reader Chapters AO3

21-Vacation

If anyone ever asked you if the toxic water and/or air of Gotham had any effect on you, you would say no. You were about as normal as any other person you came across in your day-to-day life. That was until you realized you were starting to understand what Kite Man was saying about how cool kites were. Maybe, you thought, you needed a vacation far, far away from this city. 

“Random question,” You said halfway into his tirade. “Have you ever left Gotham?”

“No, why?”

You weren’t surprised. “Nothing. Go on.”

That morning, you put in a request for a week’s vacation. 

And, your trip was wonderful. For the first time in a long, long while, you breathed in fresh air and walked around without the worry of being robbed. Despite the freedom, you felt a sense of longing for your drab city. There was something about Gotham that was intoxicating, and it wasn’t just the water. It was the rush of never-ending life, the kindness felt by the locals despite being dealt the worst hand imaginable, and, most importantly, the vigilantes. 

So, as you tied your apron on for your regular night shift, you felt a sense of excitement to see your vigilante friends again. The night was normal until two AM rolled around and Red Robin along with Robin strolled in. 

“Oh, thank God you’re back,” Red Robin said. “Where have you been?”

Robin leaned up on his tiptoes to look over the counter. “Your replacement was terrible, and kept asking questions.”

“I was on vacation, and that’s not very nice,” You said. “You guys aren’t exactly normal customers.”

Red Robin scoffed. “He wasn’t asking questions about us. He was asking how to make the drink.”

“What?” You laughed. “No way.”

“Very much way,” Robin said as he reached up for one of the wrapped cookies. 

They told you about how the barista, who must have been straight out of training, was running around like a chicken blindsided and with its head cut off. The poor guy didn’t know he’d be dealing with the superheroes or vigilantes, so that must have made him forget any training. 

“Oh, go easy on him,” You said as you gave Robin his hot chocolate. “I was freaked out when you guys first got here.”

“I guess, but it’s nice to see a familiar face,” Red Robin said, mumbling the last part. “Especially, not one that’s trying to kill you.”

You smiled, your heart touched. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that any time soon. Not less you catch me on a really bad day.”

The two boys smiled at you. You were grateful for your vacation, but, damn it, if you didn’t miss those masked faces.