#I don't actually know anything about coffee or what you do on coffee shop aus this was inspired by an anon ask

[canisalbus]

✦ Coffee Shop AU ✦

#own art #own characters #CanisAlbus #art #artists on tumblr #Vasco #Machete #anthro #sighthound #dogs #canine #animals #comics #he's been trying to work up the courage to break the ice for a week and a half #Vasco figured out on day four #I don't actually know anything about coffee or what you do on coffee shop aus this was inspired by an anon ask #I like to think he's well off enough to treat himself and that's an Armani coat

[meltedheartz]

thinking about ftm!reader and mean!izuku who thinks it's so cute how they just can't defend themselves against him :((

tw : college!au, dub-con, condescension, mild bullying (in a way), chubby reader, reader wears glasses, reader's a bit of a loser, dacryphilia, creampie, no protection (don't be silly, wrap that willy!), mating press, izuku's a whore for reader, praise and petnames, don't care how big you are cuz izu's bigger, gn pronouns used :3

word count : wrote this on a whim, so i honestly don't know..

it starts when you accidentally bump into him, stumbling back yet he was barely even startled. you apologize profusely, and izuku just waves you off at first.

you think it's rude, before rushing off to wherever you were trying to get too—forgetting about it.

but izuku spots you around that coffee shop near the campus, sees you in the hallways with books nearly stumbling from your arms, watches as you take notes as the professor speaks.

a couple of people whisper about you, how you never bother speaking to anyone, and how nervous you seem when someone approaches you.

it's like cornering a bunny, izuku thinks when he decides to speak to you.

well, it's more like being passive aggressive than actually conversing.

"wow, you're soo smart. you must be real fun to be around, huh? your voice is really high pitched, are you sure you're alright?"

you tell him to stop being a dickhead, if he doesn't wanna be around, he doesn't have to be. izuku waves you off and laughs, says you're like a startled animal that thinks it's intimidating, and it makes you frown.

"you're an ass," you poke at his chest, before picking up your bag and adjusting your glasses.

"hm? where are you going?" izuku pointedly ignores your insult, but it feels more ticklish than insulting or hurtful.

you ignore him right back, attempting to storm out of his dorm room. of all the people you get to work with, you get paired with him. it's annoying—more an inconvenience, than anything.

izuku watches as tears well up behind those clear rims you wear, sees the furrow in your eyebrow and nearly laughs at it, wants to call you a crybaby for it; just like everyone used to do to him.

he can sort of see why they did it, and when it comes down to someone as soft and quiet as you, it's nearly impossible to resist.

"we're not done with either of our parts. you don't need help on yours?"

when you don't answer, izuku takes it upon himself to grab you hard enough to stop you, but not enough to hurt. it causes a slight discomfort, makes your breathing stutter a bit as you sniffle and try to pull away—but you physically can't.

izuku speaks again, looming over you with a small scowl. "why are you ignoring me? i thought you wanted to get this done, what happened to that?"

you just wanna slap him for asking that. he knows the answer — knows exactly what he did wrong and why you got fed up.

"let go of me. i'll work on my part by myself, dickweed."

"nuh-uh, that's not fair to either of us, is it?" izuku coos, grabbing your bag for you and tossing it onto the futon he has sitting just a little bit away.

you sniffle again, more tears welling up and threatening to tip over and down onto your chubby cheeks, and you can't even wipe them away cuz you're arguing with such an asshole.

you seem so frustrated and angered, but he knows that instead of yelling, you cry. it's pathetic, makes him wanna bite your cute face and boop your nose just to see you sniffle some more.

"you mad at me?" izuku asks, tugging you back into the small apartment that you stupidly decided to visit to get your joint assignment done.

"this is stupid — let me go, midoriya." he frowns at that, his grip loosening just a bit before it tightens again.

he clicks his tongue and drags you right back to his room, with all the superhero posters and expensive collectors items that can't be found anywhere else.

izuku sits you down but doesn't let you go—hasn't let go of your arm since he got a hold of it. "what happened to calling me by my name?"

"that is your name," you snark back. you watch as his eyes narrow a bit and he makes his way on to the bed, looming over you.

you feel.. small. it's not like you were ever bigger than him, he goes to the gym more times a week than you can keep track of and is over 6'0" — of course you aren't bigger than him.

"don't get smart with me honey. you know you don't wanna do that." izuku sighs and makes you lay down, and you feel your heartbeat speed up as your eyes widen.

you struggle and squirm, but he just smiles and puts more of his weight on you, making it near impossible to even move.

"m-midoriya—"

"izuku. say it," he breathes out, tucking his face into the crook of your neck almost forcefully.

he hears you hiccup, sees as the tears flow over and how your eyes get all glassy—all doe-eyed and he laughs.

"izuku, get off me—" you try to move again, you feel the grip around your wrist tighten more and it feels more and more uncomfortable as it does.

"i love you. you're so cute, what would you have done if it was someone else on top of you? hm?" izuku raises his head to look at you, and feels bad.

feels that guilt of actually making you cry, seeing how scared you are of him. "ah-ah, shh. i'm sorry. i didn't mean to make you upset, okay?"

that doesn't make the tears stop, but izuku thinks it's fine. the apology sounds genuine—more genuine than the usual sarcastic 'sorry' he gives you, more genuine than the mean laughs he gives you after making you throw a crumbled paper ball at him.

"i hate you, you're s-so mean," you hiss, wanting to kick and scream at him.

you feel the hold he has on your wrists loosen, but he doesn't let go entirely. but it's more than enough for you to wriggle free.

izuku smiles again, "i know. i know, 'm sorry."

the words that leave his mouth make you hiccup and stare at him, the typical scowl you always give izuku on your lips.

"you never show that you're actually sorry." you sniffle, and have to move to wipe the onslaught of tears the stumble down your pretty face.

izuku pauses when you say that, eyes grazing over your face before he lights up.

"how about i prove it, would that make you feel better?"

"s-slow down—"

"mgh—s-sorry," izuku gasps, but doesn't make any move to slow down, hips stuttering into yours as he watches you shake and clutch at the sheets.

it's been a little over thirty minutes, you think, but you're not sure. it's not like you can think when you can feel izuku's pretty cock all the way in your tummy—making sure you know he's actually sorry.

he spent all his time before this slurping at your pretty cunt, fingering you to completion as he sucked at your cute clit and made sure you felt good.

even now, izuku was trying to make sure you felt as good as you possibly could with him, watching your eyes roll back with every thrust into you.

"love you s'much, soo soft n pretty-" izuku whines, kissing you all sloppily yet so lovingly.

it makes you clench up around him, trying to close your legs but you jus can't because of the mean mating press he has you in.

"such a good boy for me, yeah?" the words paired with his dick stirring up your guts make you wail.

it's almost too much, but it's not enough as you cream around his cock—a milky white ring forming at the base of it as he pants and gasps right next to your ear.

he pounds a little faster—a little harder before his thrusts get sloppier and nearly lose rhythm. you can barely see his face without your glasses and the tears blurring your vision further.

but izuku makes sure that you can hear him good and well as he moans and whines, feeling the blunt tip press against your cervix as though it never wants to leave.

"shit, shit— 'm cumming," he gives short little thrusts as he does, cumming harder than he has in months just knowing that he finally has you.

you're both sweaty and you feel a little icky, embarrassed at all the crying you did. izuku kisses you—softer than he did before, wiping some hair from your face as he does.

"love you." izuku mutters. he doesn't care if you don't say it back, just as long as you know he loved you at the very least.

"i love you too."

A/N ; i haven't written smut or anything in MONTHS. i hope this is good in some parts, it's very rushed and not well thought outt :((

b4 anyone asks, minors are allowed to interact with my account. i don't care, as long as you aren't under 15. i fully understand that you guys have hormones, and the "minors dni" thing is straight bullshit to me. luv you guys, i will be making an account intro, but it won't be anytime soon cuz i'm lazy.. ＼(≧▽≦)／

#heartz.png #heartz.png files #izuku midoriya smut #midoriya izuku smut #izuku smut #deku smut #midoriya smut #bnha smut #mha smut #mha #bnha #midoriya izuku x reader #male reader #trans reader #poc reader #izuku x male reader #midoriya x male reader #midoriya x you #izuku midoriya x you

[navstuffs]

Heart to-go

Pairing: RE2Barista!Leon x GN!Reader

Summary: You hate coffee. Of course with your luck, you end up falling in love with a cute blushing barista.

Warnings: COFFEE SHOP AU, SUPER FLUFF, blushing leon, tooth-rotting fanfic, reader DOES NOT like coffee (i could never), reader/leon are clueless and shy, sabrina and gabriel are names used in this fic, image taken from google

Author's Notes: hey, im back (sorta?kinda?). i had this fanfic saved for a while and since i haven't been able to produce new material, i decided to edit and post some of my old drafts. i plan on posting the other coffee shop au - nsfw version, but from now i hope you enjoy reading this one!

If someone told you before that you would visit a coffee shop and actually order the same cup of coffee every day, you would laugh at their faces. You don't like coffee, period. There is something about the smell or taste you just don't like it. Warm, cold, sweet, unsweet, with chocolate, you tried it all. It just isn't your thing, which made some people look at you as an E.T. sometimes, but hey, to each its own, right?

Your co-worker Sabrina is the one who invites you out to a popular coffee shop nearby your work. Before you even attempt to say no, Sabrina explains that yes, there were other drink options and some delicious pastries, like "some of the best brownies" she had eaten her entire life.

So you agree, with the promise you wouldn't regret it.

There is no line when you enter, around 5 pm. You pass this coffee shop often going to work, the smell strong in your nose if the door is open. You never entered, of course, but now inside, you must admit it looked cozy. A lot of natural light comes from the big windows in the front, illuminating the entire space. There are tables and chairs, at this time empty, compared to how full and hectic they could get in the morning.

As Sabrina orders her long order, your eyes wander the menu, written behind the counter on a giant blackboard. They had other options, as Sabrina explained before, such as handmade Italian sodas and some juices. When Sabrina is done, you turn your attention to the very attractive cashier. The kind you see on the cover of magazines, like a model or something. And cute. He has innocent blue eyes, a soft face, and blonde hair under the black cap. Your eyes glimpse at his name tag, "Leon," as he waits for your order.

"What do you want?"

And the words come out of your mouth before you can even think, something you would never have ordered in a million years.  

"A coffee?" 

You can feel Sabrina's neck twist, shocked. You ignore her, ignore how your voice went two higher tones than it should, focused on Leon, who continues smiling, patiently waiting for the rest.

"Sure, which one?"

"Coffee?" Your eyes roam around the many, many names and sizes as if you know what all those names mean, and you decide to risk it all. "How about your favorite order?"

Leon's eyes widen briefly before a faint red tone rises to his cheeks. He chuckles, surprised, before placing the order on the computer. 

"Right, okay then, my favorite order. Anything else?"

"Nothing, that will be it."

You pay your bill without looking up. Sabrina looks semi-concerned and amused when you are done ordering, a strange smile on her face.

"Are you okay?"

"I panicked," You whisper, hoping Leon can't hear the panic in your voice as you pull her to a table before she can start asking more questions.

You sit to wait for your order, and you notice Leon and another young blonde lady behind the counter. He seems to be blushing about something she says, and you wonder if that wasn't the most adorable thing you've ever seen.

"You are staring," Sabrina warns, her voice denoting humor. Why does it sound like Sabrina is having fun with your misery? You look out the window to the traffic slowing down since it is the end of the afternoon. When your order finally arrives, you turn excited, expecting to see Leon but being greeted by Ashley's happy face.

"Enjoy!" Ashley exclaims before leaving. You grab your small cup of warm coffee with a top layer of foam on it. It smells like cinnamon and vanilla. You really, really don't want to drink it.

"Careful now, Leon is watching," Sabrina teases, making you turn to look for Leon. He is indeed staring at you, his blue eyes filled with expectation. When he catches you looking, he turns his face away, a deep blush on his cheeks, too focused on cleaning something behind him.

"I can do this." You tell yourself, taking a sip from the cup. Yeap, still bad. Still bad as the first time you tried it. You drink another small sip because Leon could still be watching before placing the cup on the table. "I don't think I can do this." You confess in a whisper to Sabrina, who doesn't answer. She giggles, drinking her coffee as water. She saves you the dignity to not tease you anymore, at least.

Noticing she wouldn't be any help, you take small sips while listening to Sabrina's news. It was easier to drink while she talked so that you could ignore the sour taste in your mouth.

When your cup is finally empty, you sigh in relief. You have done it. You are NOT disappointing any cute blushy barista today. Leon appears at the side of the table, eyes filled with expectation.

"How was it?"

"It was so good. My friend over here loved it, right? Right?" Sabrina smiles happily in your direction. You want to strangle her, but you nod, smirking instead.

"Perfect, Leon. Thank you."

Leon's eyes lock on you, and you stare back, starstruck. No one should be allowed to be this charming. His smile lights up his entire face, making him look even more special. The type you could fall in love with if you aren't careful enough.

"I will get those for you, then," He cleans the table, then leaves, nodding in your direction. When he is out of a safe distance, Sabrina sings low.

"I think he likes you!"

"Shut up, Sabrina!"

-x-

After that, you start to visit the coffee. Daily. You get to meet the rest of the employees: Luis, a handsome man with a captivating smile who constantly flirts with you. You already know Ashley, a young college student who is always excited to see you. And well, there is Leon. It is odd how you click so fast with Luis and Ashley; you could joke with them as much as you wanted, but things worked a little differently when it came to Leon. He made you nervous.

He always welcomes you with a warm smile and treats you with respect. You tried to tease Leon once, but it died in your throat when you watched his expression. He just looked so innocent, you just didn't want him to dislike something you did or said. What if he misinterpreted?

You also continue ordering the same coffee. Your newfound trick to not throw it away? Take it to work and give it to Sabrina. You know you are wasting money, but Leon's smile is worth every cent, especially when you place the money on the counter for "Leon's order". Like one morning, two weeks after your first visit, you enter the shop, and it is Luis at the register.

"Hello, pretty thing. Same order?" Luis asks, winking. 

"You know me, Luis, I am loyal." 

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Luis sighs, pretending to be disappointed. Ashley waves in your direction when she sees you, asking. "Let me guess, another Leon's order to go?"

"You know, it is my dream. One of those days, you will enter those doors and ask 'Can I get Luis's order or maybe Ashley's?" Luis teases, "No, it must always be Leon's order. I have started to wonder why."

"I like his coffee," You whisper in your defense. Luis smiles, knowing exactly what you like. He points to Leon's back, too focused on a coffee maker. "Your boyfriend is waiting."

You show off your tongue, rolling your eyes and going toward Leon. He guides a cup of steaming milk into a to-go cup, almost as if he is drawing. You don't say anything, watching his concentrated face as he finishes. Every inch of his attention to whatever he is drawing. When Leon is done, he turns toward you, opening a smile.

"H-hey. Here it is."

He puts the to-go cup in front of you, uncovered. You find it weird but don't discuss it.

"Morning. Thank you. My favorite, as always." You grab a lid nearby, closing it. Leon seems disappointed but doesn't say anything. You quickly take a sip, holding back a scowl. "Perfect as always, Leon. Thank you. I don't even know where I would be without Leon's every morning... Leon's order, I mean!"

The frown is gone, and Leon smiles timidly, blushing. Of course, you must embarrass yourself in front of him, but honestly, you don't mind. Your mornings always got much better after seeing his smile. You leave the coffee, waving bye to Ashley and Luis. When you are gone, Ashley and Luis surround Leon, too curious.

"Did they see it this time?" Luis wonders.

"No."

"Such a nice person, but so clueless," Ashley sighs, holding her chin. "Maybe you should just try writing your phone number on the cup, it would be more direct."

"Or maybe they don't like me that much..." Leon declares, making his co-workers groan.

"Not this again, Leon."

-x-

Three weeks pass like that. You go in, say hi to Ashley and Luis, get your coffee with Leon, smile at each other, and leave for work. There is some teasing here and there from Ashley and Luis, you tease back, and that is it. You wonder if you should get a different order, but Sabrina seems happy enough with the coffee, you are happy enough to see Leon, so it works.

The next morning, you enter the café to find Ashley organizing a casket of brownies. After greeting each other, you grab one from the basket. So those were the limited edition brownies Sabrina always talked about.

"Hey, Ashley, are those the famous delicious brownies?"

"Yeah. Made by an extraordinary chef, but I can't reveal his identity. It is top secret."

"Can I get one? And also a Le-"

"Leon's order? Yes, yes, I know," She groans, sounding tired. Leon appears from the back office, opening his usual smile when he sees you. You like to think it is your special smile, but it is probably how he smiles at every single client.

"Hey."

"Morning, Leon."

He starts preparing your drink the way he always does. You wonder if Leon is bored or if he can even make it with his eyes closed. Maybe you should ask him if his favorite order has even changed next time? As you watch Leon work, you give a big bite to the brownie. It is delicious. The perfect balance between chocolate and sweetness. 

"Ashley, those are so freaking good!" You exclaim, bringing her attention back to you.

"Oh really? Our chef will love to hear that!" Ashley says with a suggestive tone, giving a quick side look to Leon. You finish the brownie in a few bites as Leon puts your cup on the counter, his cheeks painted red. Again your cup is uncovered. You grab the lid and close it. It has become a ritual by now. 

"Thanks again, Leon."

When you look up at him, Leon has a different expression in his eyes. He blushes, no more than he usually does, his hand raised. Before you can ask what is wrong, he places his hand over yours on the cup lid. His hand is warm, probably normal for someone working with hot drinks all the time. You don't say anything, waiting. Leon seems to be waiting as well, for you to say anything. Neither of you does, and the moment is broken when the door opens, a huge group of women coming in.

"Sorry, I don't know—" 

"Bye!" You rush out of those doors, not looking back.

Well, that was certainly odd, you think. Leon has never touched you before. It seems that he wanted to tell you something, but at the same time, he was waiting for you to say something? When you get to work ten minutes later, the cup still warm in your hands, you search for Sabrina, not finding her. Gabriel, your other co-worker, explains she is sick.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Nasty flu."

"Oh, okay. I will message her later then."

You look at the cup in your hands to her empty table before asking Gabriel.

"Hey, do you want some coffee?"

"Free? Don't mind if I do! What has on it?"

"I guess coffee, milk, cinnamon? I don't really know."

"You don't know?" Gabriel asks, grabbing the cup from you. "You don't know what is in your cup? Here, let me smell it, I have an excellent sense of smell." He opens the lid to smell it and exclaims, "Awn, this is cute."

"What?"

"The heart."

"What heart?"

Gabriel carefully gets the cup to show you a heart drawing on top. You want to hit yourself in the head; is that what Leon has been doing? That's why he held your hand this morning to show the heart? No, it couldn't be. When Gabriel starts taking the cup to his mouth, you pull the cup back, placing the lid.

"Sorry, Gabriel, gotta go! I will return with another one!"

You rush back to the store, holding the cup firmly. Maybe, just maybe, Leon has been drawing those for you only, and you always close the lid? Maybe this is what he was trying to tell you this morning. What if Leon draws a heart for everyone? Shouldn't you be paying for that? What if—? No, no time to think of that. Perhaps this is your chance. You enter the shop, gasping for air. Ashley is nowhere around, and Leon is dusting around the table. When he sees you, his brows furrow, but he doesn't hesitate to get close to you.

"Are you okay? Something wrong?" Leon sounds concerned, his eyes scanning you.

You try to speak, still catching your breath. You pull the lid, triumphant.

"What does this mean?" 

When you two look at the cup, the drawing is gone. There is just a mess of brown liquid, smelling like vanilla and cinnamon. You can't believe it. You turn to Leon, pointing at the cup and him, your mouth opening and closing.

"Have you been drawing hearts in my cup this whole time?"

"I have." He admits, blushing. 

"Thanks?" Jeez, you couldn't come with something better. Leon nods as if understanding before starting to turn away. "No, wait, please, I mean, I like them. A lot."

His face lights up, and you wonder how someone can look so adorable. It is so unfair for you poor heart.

"Tha-that's good, then. I was wondering when you would see them."

"Well, 'cause the lady who drinks my coffee doesn't open the cups!" You try to explain to him, biting your tongue. Leon waits, confused. "Yeah, I don't like coffee," You finally confess your secret somberly, like a sinner talking to a priest.

"So wait. You don't like coffee and keep ordering it? Why?"

Well, now it is your turn to feel your face burning. Realization passes through Leon's face, and he starts stuttering something before three older ladies walk in, going directly to the cashier. He grabs your cup, his heart thumping as he rushes to write something. When Leon gives you back, you see his number written in black ink.

"Ca-can we discuss this better later tonight? If you want to, of course," Leon asks. You nod. "Then you can tell me all about your hate for coffee."

"I would love to."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy fluff #am i happy with this? not entirely. but i laughed a lot writing this so this has to count for something

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 19 all chapters

“Jane! Will you hear reason? (he stooped and approached his lips to my ear); “because, if you won’t, I’ll try violence.” -Rochester, Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte

WARNINGS: NSFW, POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T, PLZ TAKE CARE, LOVE U ALL 😘😘😘😘

-It is unfathomable, the amount of dread that manages to build inside you as you make that short walk up the stairs and down the hall. Back to the bedroom, which may as well be your jail cell. The locks on the door engage with what is to you, an ominous click.

Did you really think you were going to get one over on a man who was a professional predator?

You little fool.

You find it hard to read John’s expression. Not mad, exactly, but not happy either. Pensive. You realize he’s deep in thought, and that almost scares you more than if he’d peppered you with threats.

What is he going to do to you?

He drops you down on the bed, hard enough that you bounce. Your first instinct is to try to scramble away, but he is on you in a second, pulling you closer with hands on your thighs that will not be denied.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

He leans over you, trapping you in the cage of his arms and his torso. He is so much bigger than you, and you hate it that you find his looming body equally titillating as it is terrifying. Your hands gravitate to his chest, as though to keep him at bay, but mostly…just resting there, on muscle that is like warm carved granite.

You dare to look up meet his gaze, and find his eye has turned from swollen red to a vibrant royal purple. You know it must hurt.

Even more fucked up, you actually start to feel bad about it.

You reach up to touch his cheek lightly. “John…I’m sorry.”

His eyes narrow, and he looks you up and down so neatly trapped beneath him. “Oh, you’re going to be,” he practically purrs.

A trill of fear skitters down your spine.

“My ankle hurts,” you whine, angling for sympathy.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Pretty sure it’s yours.”

He chuckles at you, though there is a dark note beneath it all that lifts every hair on your body.

You are so fucked.

You cannot help but think he is savoring your nervousness, like a cat toying with a mouse. You are shaking like a leaf, and you flinch when he lifts a hand to your face. But he doesn’t strike you, just caresses the curve of your cheek.

You know deep down that he’s just priming you for what is to come, but fuck if it doesn’t feel wonderful to lean into his touch, and you can nearly pretend that he cherishes you. It almost puts you at ease—but you have already learned this man offers no comfort without exacting some impossible price for it later.

He settles farther into you with a low sound like a growl, rubbing the scruff of his beard against your face as though marking you. It is so primal, so far removed from anything civilized, and you…cannot suppress a sigh.

You should struggle and bite and kick—but in that moment, you just...don't want to.

“Hmm,” he grumbles, a sound from deep in his chest that you feel as much as hear. “My fierce little kitten. What am I to do with you?”

“Let me go?”

You don't know why you even ask. You already know his answer, but you just can't stop yourself. You are filled to the gills with the most agonizing mix of arousal and fear, nearly sick with the adrenaline racing through your veins.

This man will kill you just with the threat of waiting, it seems.

He answers by pressing his mouth to yours, taking your lips in a possessive and probing kiss that curls your toes. He pulls you closer, offering you a firm thigh between your legs to grind upon, and goddamn it that if lost in the moment, you don’t take him up on it. You feel him smile against your mouth, nipping at your lower lip.

 It leaves you dizzy with desire, and he takes advantage of your stupefied state, suddenly flipping you on your stomach. You scream a little with surprise, finding yourself bent over the edge of the bed, his narrow hips flush against your backside. You try to struggle up on your elbows, but he pins you down with a large hand between your shoulder blades. 

“Stay there,” he warns you. “Or I'll make you stay.”

Your heart is a thunderous timpani roll in your ears. With your face down in the soft sheets that smell so deliciously like him, you fear you know what’s coming next. Yet he takes his time about it, his gentle fingertips tracing your curves, down to the sensitive skin of the backs of your thighs. It makes you shudder—why does he have to be so gentle, while he’s being so terrible?

You feel his fingers bunch in your hem a moment before he wrenches your skirt up past your waist. 

You cry out, writhing on instinct, but again he pins you with his torso moulded against your back. The warmth of him, and the weight of him…is a damnably delightful thing.

“My bad bad girl.” You feel his fingertips ghosting up your thigh, up to trace the line of your panties over your buttock, teasing just inside the elastic. Your hands fist in the sheets; you can hardly stand it. His light touch feels uneasily wonderful, and your fruitless squirming beneath him is equally fueled by desire and dread. You can feel his erection pressing into your flesh. It does not help the growing ache between your thighs. It's possible you arch into him for a moment, before you regain your wits again, grinding your teeth against every iota of tainted pleasure this man makes you feel.

He cups the round of your butt with a groan of approval, the breadth of his paw making you feel impossibly small. 

“Such a perfect ass. Just made for spanking.”

A spear of cold fear pierces your insides.

“Please don't hit me.” You hate how utterly pathetic you sound, whimpering into the counterpane.

“No? You hit me first.”

“I...you kidnapped me!” 

“Hmm.”

You are realizing that's not going to be a viable defense with this man. 

“Just remember, kitten. Anything you can do.” He kisses the knob of your spine on the back of your neck, making you shudder.  “I can do to you.” Another kiss, lower on your exposed spine, that absolutely fries the wires in your brain. “Ten times worse. Understood?”

“Yes.” You are proud that your voice sounds somewhat level, because all you want to do is sob into the sheets. It makes you so angry, that he can manipulate your body this way, and that the threat of his brutality merely seems to serve as an amuse bouche to your arousal. What the fuck is wrong with you?

“So. My darling doesn't like hitting. I don't either. Should we make a deal?” 

“A deal?” 

“You won't hit me, and I won't hit you.”

“Ok,” you sigh, relieved yet knowing this is not something that in a sane world, should win your gratitude. Little by little, he's tying your hands more, stealing your ability to fight back, catching you up in the web of his game.

His voice drops low as he warns you, “Don't break a deal with me, sweetheart. You won't like it.” 

“I won't.” Your voice is so small, you hardly recognize it.

He makes a sound of approval from deep in his chest, running his hand down your back, almost like he’s petting you.

“But now we're back to square one. How am I to punish you?”

You make a squeak of surprise.

“But—”

“I’m going to have a black eye for at least a week. You owe me something.”

He kidnapped you, and you hit him trying to escape, so you owe him.

Class, welcome to Gaslighting 101.

Worse yet, you know it, but there’s not a goddammed thing you can do about it.

When you remain silent in your fury he further prompts, “Any suggestions?”

You cannot stop yourself from spitting, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He actually laughs at that, a low sound that tugs at your belly and makes you pulse between your thighs.

“I think I have an idea.”

His fingertips hook in the sides of your panties, drawing them down to bare your ass to him. “No…” You try to roll away, but he pins you again with his hips against the bed.

“Feeling shy now? I literally had my tongue inside your sweet little pussy a few days ago.” The reminder of this invokes a throbbing in your cunt that is not helpful at all.

“That was different…”

“Was it?”

A lump rises in your throat, and you barely manage to speak around it. “I trusted you then.”

“I’m still the same man, y/n.” He caresses the curve of your ass cheek, so gently. His fingertips stray agonizingly close to your weeping center, and you know you are a broken thing, for the flood of slick that answers him between your legs. You tremble as you fight not to strain towards him, like a flower seeks the sun. “I think you knew I was dangerous, even then.”

Your breath escapes in a shuddering sigh. He might be right about that…but the rest. There’s no way you could have even dreamed all the rest. You did not sign up for this. You’re going to have to keep reminding yourself of that, no matter how tenuous your reality becomes.

A small sound escapes you, as he bends to kiss the small of your back.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, y/n.” His lips stray lower to the globe of your ass, and you quiver in a mixture of anticipation and fear. His thumb rests at the crease where your thigh meets your butt cheek, so close to your center that you could scream. “A bruise for a bruise.”

“Wait—”

His teeth sink into your ass, hard, and you squeal. 

“John!”

He holds you down, sucking mercilessly, leaving what you realize will be the worst hickey in the history of hickeys. It hurts, but a little voice inside your head sings out, it could be so much worse... and as it goes on...his mouth working on your flesh sort of feels good. You force yourself to remain still, gripping the sheets so hard that you feel like they should tear.

When at last he finishes with you, planting the gentlest kiss over the site he just utterly ravaged, you whimper with relief...and want. He continues his soft kisses, feather light, up your spine again, until his body is draped over yours once more, his erection in his pants fitting snugly in the crack of your ass.

Fuck.

You are a quivering mess beneath him, and there is a chaotic knot in your chest made of fear, desire, revulsion, and yearning. You are coiled tight as a spring, and you know, you just know that if he moved to take you like this you would absolutely let him, weeping with relief, even if you would loathe yourself for it later.

He kisses your cheek, ever so sweetly, as though he hadn’t just scared the bejeezus out of you and practically tried to take a bite out of you besides. “That’s my good girl. You took that so well.”

You can hardly believe the intoxicating flood of warmth that fills you at hearing those words. For the umpteenth time you wonder what the fuck is he doing to you?

You feel him start to move off of you, and before you can stop yourself you make a sound of protest, not wanting him to go.

“Shh. I’ll be right back, sweetheart.” He claps your behind just enough to make a sound—and a spear of longing to shoot through you.

Before you can complain about your deal of no hitting, he’s gone, leaving you cold and exposed upon the bed, wondering what the fuck just happened.

-By the time he returns you’ve righted yourself again, pulled up your big girl panties and got in a quick, semi-cathartic cry against the pillow that smells so wonderfully of him.

Dog is at John’s heels, and he is ever so happy to scarf down the remains of your sandwich that still littered the floor.

John scoops up the book that nearly took his head off. You can see his left eye is swelling angrily. He should have iced it immediately—but he had other things on his mind.

“Did it have to be War and Peace?” he grumbles with a frown.  

“Seemed fitting.”

He snorts, though the look he pays you isn’t exactly kind. “Remind me to hide Anna Karenina,” he says, but just replaces it on the shelf, not even bothering to take it away from you.

You guess he won't fall for the same trick twice. 

You're right about that.

After he wraps your ankle with ACE bandage and sits for a while with frozen peas on his eye, he installs a camera up in the corner of the room, right where you can see it. 

“This will stay here until you prove to me you can be trusted with privacy.” 

You frown, but say nothing in return.

-Later, you are resting together in bed, almost like a normal couple. At his demand you agreed to snuggle with him, settling in at his side. His arm is around your shoulders, your head on his chest. The scene is almost sweet, but he has the cold pack on his eye again, and you are elevating your ankle on a pillow.

What a pair you make.

He adjusts the compress on his eye, and you are taken aback after he so insisted on punishing you, he seems to find it funny, a huff of laugher escaping him. “Don't tell anyone you got one in on John Wick, they'll want to hire you.”

Though you should be cautious after everything that just happened, this piques your voracious curiosity once more.

“Were you a big deal, in your world? 

“I was...good at my job.”

“How did you get into that?”

He juts his bottom jaw, the way you've noticed he does when he's agitated, or thinking about something he doesn’t like. 

“I never really had a choice,” he answers finally. “I was an orphan, and the people who took me in trained me to be a killer.” 

You blink at that, trying to decide if he's fucking with you or not. 

“That's like, some Agent Salt shit.”

He tilts his head, not following. 

“You know. Like, KGB Russian sleeper agents?”

He snorts. “Sure, I guess. I might have liked KGB training, compared to what we went through.” 

Before you can stop yourself, you reach up to touch his face, stroking his beard with the blade of your thumb. 

Jesus, you should not feel sorry for this man. But Goddammit. Something tells you that he's absolutely telling you the truth. Something about the way he delivers it, and the way he is…it tracks. He’s not trying to sound tough, or brag, or make up a good backstory about his past.

It just…is, and it breaks your heart in two. 

#john wick #john wick fic #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #bittersweet john wick imagine #yandere #yandere john wick #please enjoy your weekend dose 😂😂 #😘😘😘😘😘😘😘

[star-hoon]

OBSESSED (p. sunghoon)

I’M SO OBSESSED WITH YOUR EX

(based on the song obsessed by olivia rodrigo, but through the pov of crushing on your best friend’s ex)

pairing: sunghoon x fem reader

includes/warnings (16+): best friend’s ex! au, reader and hoon smokes (pls be safe lol), suggestive material, angst, profanity, smoking/drinking, pda (let me know if i missed anything!)

word count: 2.3k+

synopsis: you and your best friend were as close as friends could be, never keeping secrets from each other. you told each other everything—including exes and past relationship horror stories. but you’ve never seen or met her ex, park sunghoon. but in bullet points you did know him; his blood type, his star sign, heard about how handsome he is, and the way he’d kiss…all through your best friend’s ramblings.

after all three of you end up at the same party a year after they broke up, can things remain the same?

— PART 2: IN PROGRESS ᝰ.ᐟ

OBSESSED SOUNDTRACK

"i fantasize about it all the time if you were mine..."

you hummed along to ariana grande playing in your headphones as you headed to your favorite coffee shop.

as you approached the front of the cafe, you couldn't help but notice a girl sitting alone with tear stained cheeks. you removed your headphones and could hear her sniffling. seeing the handful of used tissues was not a subtlety to her crying.

you didn't want to intrude considering she was a stranger, but you could sense she was there alone and looked like she needed someone to check on her. hesitantly, you approached waved your hand in her eye-line as if you were approaching a bunny and trying not to scare it.

"hi, i'm so sorry if i'm intruding or disturbing you. but i was wondering if you're okay?" your tone soft and eyes naturally falling on her smudged mascara.

once she composed her sniffles and cleared her throat she replied, "thank you...that's very nice of you. i-i'm fine..." the latter half of her was more of statement of convincing herself. despite the tears still brimming her lash line, she smiled.

"i'm fine" she repeats wiping under her eyes. "my boyfriend and i just broke up and this was the closest place to my apartment. just wanted to get out and get some fresh air you know?"

"i'm sorry to hear that. screw him, you probably deserve better anyways" you tease trying to lighten the mood.

"do you mind if i sit? i'm y/n by the way" you pointed toward the chair across from her at the table. she nodded with a with a shy smile. "i'm sage"

"nice to meet you, can i buy you a coffee?"

it's been a year since you and sage met. since then you have become best friends and inseparable. because you two live basically across the city from each other and both worked, it was hard to find time to see each other from day to day. so weekends and your guys' friday sleepovers were precious to you.

sage poured each of you a shot of soju as you took the takeout boxes out of the plastics bags, spreading them out across the dinner table.

as the clear liquid in the soju bottle slowly decreased as the night went on, the volume of your guys' laughter echoed louder throughout her apartment. you and sage were swiping through screenshots of terrible dating app conversations together, cringing at what guys have said to you both.

"oh god...looking at all of these terrible dudes makesme missss sunghoon" sage slurring her words as her sentence tapered off.

you almost choked as you weren't sure if you heard her correctly. "i'm sorry did you say you miss sunghoon?!" your eyes nearly popped out of your head.

sage never was one to handle her alcohol well.

"c'mon y/n, i'm just kidding. well sorta..." you shot her a look of 'elaborate what 'sorta' means in this situation'.

"i don't actually miss him of course. we broke up over a year ago! so i'm way over it. and i think sunghoon and i broke up for the better. i'm just saying seeing all these gross guys is just making me reminisce about a relationship that was good while it lasted you know?"

you giggled and let out a hum of acknowledgement.

"but i will say..." sage's eyes filled with mischief as her lips upturned into a smirk. "sunghoon was suuuuuch a good kisser though. he's definitely the hottest guy i've dated."

her cheeks no longer only flushed from the alcohol. she continued to ramble on about sunghoon and leaving you with a bullet point list of useless facts about sunghoon: his favorite color, his blood type, his astrology sign, his love of ice skating, and *other* details of their private life that you didn't ask to know about but were forced to hear anyways.

eventually you decided the night was coming to close as your wobbly guided sage by her shoulders to her side of the bed, laughing at her useless mumbling. you pulled the covers over her shoulder as she snuggled closer to her pillow.

you made your way to the bathroom to get ready for bed. as you stared back at yourself in the mirror you couldn't help but find the situation funny.

you knew what the textbook definition of 'park sunghoon' was but you've never met him, you don't even know what he looks like.

because why would you, right?

the next day (saturday)

"hey, you remember my friend jake right? he invited us to his party tonight"

"australian one, looks like a golden retriever?"

"bingo"

you didn't say much after that. you weren't much of party person. you weren't quite the social butterfly like sage. it always felt like you were just the 'quiet best friend' to your much more interesting counterpart.

sage always reassured you that wasn't true. she would always say anyone who didn't like you was the lame one.

"c'mon y/nnn please?...it'll be fun i promise. jake always throws the best parties" she gave you her best attempt at puppy eyes. "i know you don't love parties but its an excuse to put on a cute outfit at least."

you rolled your eyes with a smile at her ridiculous yet infallible girl-logic. she always knew you liked putting on a cute outfit and taking pictures more than actually going out.

"fineee....!" you replied.

"yay!!! we're gonna have fun tonight y/n trust, do you think jake's gonna invite any hot friends?"

"too bad your ex don't do it for ya,

walked in and dream came trued it for ya..."

you and sage were having your own personal world tour in your bathroom scream-singing to sabrina carpenter. her hairbrush and your makeup brush each being your respective microphones.

after spending way too much time getting ready and taking photos together, you two were finally ready to head to jake's house.

you and sage stepped out of the car, already hearing the heavy bass booming from the house.

sage linked her arm with yours as you guys approached the front door. a chill went up your spine and it wasn't from the night air.

it's just a party. what's the worst that can happen right?

you stepped into the house and naturally it felt as if everyone already knew sage, greeting her with the usual "sage!! omg you're finally here!" and her having to introduce you as you give shy, awkward smiles.

"y/n!!" you whipped your head around because someone (that wasn't sage) was calling your name.

"yooo let's gaurrr! y/n! i'm so glad you could make it, i didn't think you would!" jake greeted you with that ever-charming smile of his and pulled you in for a hug.

"hi jake! thanks so much for inviting me, this party is no joke" you nodded and glanced around at his impressive DJ set up and lights.

"what can i say? i play hard" he shrugs and flirtatiously bites his lip. as you were about to respond, one of his friends calls for him from across the room.

"i'm so sorry my boy over there needs me but there are drinks in the kitchen and the bathroom is the last door down the hall, have fun!" he shouts over the loud music as he makes his way through the crowd of people.

you were left alone and sage was god-knows where. you made your way to the kitchen to get a drink and after some failed attempts of finding your best friend, you made your way to the backyard.

the cold night breeze was refreshing to breath in as you stood at a wall near the pool. you reached into your bag and pulled out a cigarette and lighter.

you cupped your hands around the cigarette in your mouth, trying to get the last bit of juice from your almost-dead lighter. so concentrated on clicking the lighter, you barely noticed the figure that approached you.

it wasn't until a flame hovered around the outside of your hand did you look up. all you could do was stare back at the stranger in silence for what felt like forever. he was the most handsome guy you had ever seen.

he wore a vintage denim jacket that complimented his tall frame perfectly. his beautiful pale skin was perfectly illuminated with the lights coming from the porch, contrasting his slightly messy dark hair. everything about him exuded a cool and mysterious aura. he smirked and quirked his thick eyebrows at you. he truly looked like a prince.

you dropped your hands as you moved your cigarette to the flame of his lighter. as the tip of your cigarette was engulfed in the flame, you could feel his intense gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips.

once your cigarette was lit, you pulled away and stared into his eyes. inhaling and exhaling the smoke along with a shy "thanks".

"any time" he responded, his pointed canines peeking out as he spoke.

"that's a sick lighter, by the way"

"oh yeah? thanks it's vintage from japan..." your compliment suddenly making him seem shy. you smiled at his suddenly adorable expression.

"...i feel like other people don't really get to see it because no one i really know smokes" he continued.

"oh? so i'm not 'other people'? wow i must special" you give a sarcastic shocked/proud expression while batting your lashes at him. the mix of alcohol and nicotine suddenly hitting, making you bolder than usual it seemed.

"yeah, you could say that" he chuckled and bit his lip, eyeing you up and down. he took in your all-black outfit, your mini skirt and cropped tank top not leaving much to his imagination. you were cutest girl in this whole damn party.

touché, two can play that game.

"can i actually have a cig? must've dropped my pack on the way here" you nodded and put your cig in your mouth free up your hands, reaching for your purse.

before you could do anything else, he leaned in closer to you and extended his left arm next to your head, caging you in to the wall you were leaning against. he gently pulled the cigarette from your mouth drawing a puff for himself. you didn't miss the way he licked the hint of your lipgloss from his lips that was on mouth of the cigarette.

god damn...can this guy be any hotter?

the smell of smoke and his clean cologne filled your lungs, intoxicating you with nothing but lust. "thanks" he replied with a wink, handing the cigarette back to you.

"so, what's a cute little thing like you doing out here all by yourself hm? i figured you'd be in there with every guy all over you" nodding towards the house behind you.

you almost forgot about the party completely. this handsome stranger totally consumed your whole mind in the span of minutes. you stared down at the buttons on his jacket, flashing a coy smile with a faint laugh.

"parties aren't really my thing, and trust me guys usually don't even notice me. my best friend dragged me here and she kinda just left me in there. she's probably the one with guys all over her right now" you cringed at yourself, letting your self-deprecating humor slip.

"i should thank her then: she brought you here and i get you all to myself."

your gaze went down to his lips, they were just asking to be kissed at this point. he leaned in even closer, you could feel his breath against your face.

"fuck, can i please kiss you?" his pupils were blown out waiting for your response.

you closed the gap between you two, dropping the butt of the now finished cigarette on the ground next to you.

he sighed into the kiss, right hand landing on your waist. your hands went up to the nape of his neck softly tugging on his dark strands.

he deepend the kiss pressing you flush against the wall, one hand cupping your face and the other touching the small of your back. fingertips against exposed skin between your skirt and top pushing you into him. his touch made your skin feel like it was on fire. you parted your lips slightly, giving him the perfect opportunity slip his tongue into your mouth.

the kiss tasted like mint, smoke, and the slightest hint of whatever fruity alcohol you guys consumed. it was so hot and you couldn't get enough.

his lips moved to pepper soft kisses down your jaw and gradually biting and licking on your neck. he bit on the sensitive part of your neck leaving love bites behind, his pointed teeth scraping your skin causing you to let out a soft whine.

he inhaled your sweet perfume, the smell fueling his lust even further. "fuck you're driving me crazy princess" he groaned lowly in your ear.

the pet name turning you into a whimpering mess, trying not to be too loud considering you two were still in public was damn was he making it difficult. his hand grazed your outer thigh, riding up slightly under your skirt as slotted his thigh between your legs.

you began to grind into him letting out a weak "please..." you begged grabbing onto the collar of his jacket and the back of his neck. you didn't quite know what you were begging for, but you just knew you needed him in every sense of the word.

he looked down at where your body met his thigh, grinding helplessly against him. "i know baby...such a good girl for me". in between kisses, he whispered all of the dirty things he wanted to do to you.

"can we go back to your place?...let's get out of here" you panted desperately trying to catch your breath for intense kiss. he nodded with a cheeky grin.

"wait, what's your name? I'm y/n." you both laughing into one another that you didn't even ask each other's name until now.

"i'm-"

"SUNGHOON?!" both you and the raven haired boy whipped your heads in direction of his name that didn't even get the chance to leave his lips.

holy. fuck. it was sage.

and you just made out with sunghoon.

“i’m so obsessed with your ex, i know [he's] been asleep on my side of your bed"

PART 2?

taglist: @yeonzzzn @gyuoonz @woniebae @dimplewonie @gudkc

author's note: HOLYSHIT my first work! i really hoped this lived up to the expectations to the people who wanted this fic ;-; lmk if you guys want part 2 hehe

ahh i was lowkey so nervous bc i have no idea if my writing is good (like at all) and so many things changed with what was in my mind vs. when i actually started writing but i'm looking forward to creating even better stories, and get even better at writing!

thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it, please let me know what you think <3

reblogs, likes, & comments are always appreciated!!

#enhypen #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen blog #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen park sunghoon #enhypen fic #enhypen ff #enhypen fanfiction #park sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines #enha imagines #enha x reader #enha #enha sunghoon

[excalibur-gone-missing]

Paring: seungcheol x you

Requested: no

Release date: 24-04-24

Genre: mafia au, reverse of getting kidnaped by the mafia boss, fluff, e2l, crack, assistant au

Warning(s): mention of abduction, guns?, cheol is a menace, brief mentions of drugs (do tell me if i missed anything)

summary: It was not supposed to be like this, it was a meticulous plan perfectly curated by you, Jun and Seokmin. You were supposed to go get the man who was the future heir of the Kim Corps named Mingyu, you ever had a pic of his. Most importantly it was definitely not supposed to be the man who now sits in your basement claiming that he is the leader of the mafia organisation you three work for.

Word count: 5.8k

Other works

Beta reader(s): @wonuwrites-main and @anonmonty (sweet sweet angles helped me with proof reading, or else im fucking incompetent)

disclaimer: this is not the exact representation of the subjects in real life. I just use them for my inspiration.

a/n: I request each and every one of you to comment on this fic don't be a silent reader it helps me as an author to understand my readers and i would love to communicate with all of you. Constructive criticism is always welcomed by me so do talk about this fic or send me an ask. Plus, if you loved it enough don't forget to reblog, it will help me reach a larger audience.

[permanent taglist] [only for those interested, don’t fill the form otherwise]

It is a beautiful day, and like they always say: beautiful things happen on beautiful days, and you were damn ready for the said beautiful thing to happen!

The plan is simple—you and Jun have gone over it at least fifty times, and Seokmin has been standing there listening to you both intently throughout the whole ordeal. 

“So, let’s go over it once again,” you say, pointing at the white board with the picture of a man, Mingyu to be exact, the heir to the Kim Corp. and your target. 

“He leaves his office to have coffee every afternoon exactly at 3pm at the nearest café named ‘Carvery’, am I right?” Jun and Seokmin nod with a concentrated look on their faces. 

“Next he goes to the park, sits there for fifteen minutes, on most days, and then takes the path that leads them straight back to the building, correct?” The two men again nod, and then Jun takes over the talking. 

“More often than not, he hates company during his afternoon runs, so the best chance we have of abducting the man is when he is between the café and the park. This will give us at least a twenty-minute head start before the police and his family start looking for him.” 

Now you and Seokmin nod at the man, and Seokmin takes the podium to present the next part. 

“Jun and I will be on the streets while y/n waits in the car, and from the background check we ran last month, we know the man is well trained in martial arts, so we will try and attack him with the anesthetic as soon as possible.” 

“And after the guy is unconscious, we will flee with his ass~,” adds Jun. 

“Sounds like a solid plan,” you laugh as you high five the two men. 

Indeed, it was a solid plan. You three had considered every possibility and chosen this day to execute your plan. It’s perfect and thorough, so what can go wrong? 

-- 

A lot apparently. 

You reached the destination ten minutes early to give Seokmin and Jun ample amount of time to prepare for the attack. 

As you parked your car near the pavement where the abduction would take place, you see a man walk past the car wearing a beige trench coat with some sort of concoction from the coffee shop. 

Now if you were a seasoned abductor, you would have known not to mess with the person as the timing was not right. But that was not the case, and seeing a person who vaguely matched the physical descriptions of the man you were actually supposed to abduct gave you enough reason to jump the gun and take this man hostage. 

Before you could process anything, Seokmin jumped on the guy, trying to tackle him while Jun tried to find a way to inject the drug into his system. After another minute of struggle, taking at least five punches in their abdomen and faces, both the men were successful in sedating the man.  

They hurriedly carried him to the car and you three sped off to the base to ask his family for ransom. 

-- 

You have been back at the base for three hours now. As you look at the unconscious man tied to the chair in front, you realize the grave mistake you made by not seeing his face the minute you were actually kidnapping him. 

“I mean if you look at his eyes, they look very similar to the real target, you know. Maybe he ate too much last night and is a bit swollen now,” Jun says in a wise tone. Now if you were stupid like Seokmin, you would have accepted this analogy of his just like the hundred others he had spewed in the past two hours, but you are not. So, you hit the guy’s head while calmly saying. 

“Will you keep quiet for a minute? You know as well as I that this is the wrong man. We don’t even know who he actually is. So, we wait for him to gain consciousness and then interrogate him.”  

You have figured that screaming and crying will get you nowhere. All it will do is trigger Seokmin’s panic attack, and you do not think he can manage another one after the one hour long one he just resurfaced from.  

“Our best bet is that we abducted a pretty important dude, or else we know the boss will have our meat served to his dogs for their nightly feasts,” you continued. 

“I can see he is wearing pretty costly brands all over. My guts say he is rich,” Seokmin pipes up. 

“Seok, your gut told you to scream for the past hour. I don’t trust it a lot now,” you complain. 

“I think it’s your fault, too. You should have stopped us from abducting the guy instead of just staring from the car, you know,” Jun says. 

Now, you will consider yourself to be a level-headed person, but one thing that gets to you more than anything else is a false accusation. On top of that, the bitch has the gal to accuse you of being careless when they were the ones showing literally no care about their work, owing to the fact you were not even supposed to abduct the untouchable Kim Mingyu in the first place. The leader of your clan, although you three had never seen him, mostly operated through Jeonghan, his right-hand man. The guy you agreed to kidnap was apparently remarkably close to your boss. But when faced with the tough choice of loyalty towards one gang and the lump sum of three million, you three had to face the situation and betray your gang. You know you should not, but the small jobs with the gang were not enough to even pay your rent!  

So, who does Jun think he is to shift the blame towards you when you have done nothing but try to make a secure living for all three of you. Therefore, you do the thing that your sane brain advises you to. 

Go off at Jun. 

“So, if I fail to babysit two grown men while on an extremely important mission that included them, the blame is shifted towards me?!” 

“You were both supposed to wait for my instructions before confronting the poor bloke. Now, if things go wrong, it will be your faults, and I will be dragged into it because I was the main brain behind the planning.”  

“Guys, I think we should focus on the guy more; I think he is stirring.” 

This statement from Seokmin caught both of your attention, causing you to cease the argument immediately to take a look at the man in front of you. 

Without hesitation, you put your gun on his head and ask, “who are you, tell us about yourself.” 

The man albeit good looking with his doe eyes and plump lips, gave you three a mean stare before speaking sassily. 

“Shouldn’t you know the identity of the person you kidnap?” 

“If we knew, I don’t think I would have asked about you,” you reply. 

The man scoffs before informing you the most gut-wrenching piece of information you have ever heard. 

“I’m Choi Seungcheol leader of Choi Clan.” 

-- 

When Seungcheol met Mingyu today, he was feeling particularly drained and sought the comfort of a familiar face, longing for a brief respite from the relentless demands of his job. Mingyu, sensing his friend's exhaustion, proposed they take a detour to unwind, considering Seungcheol's grueling schedule. Gratefully accepting the suggestion, Seungcheol had embarked on what he thought would be a much-needed moment of relaxation. 

Oh, how wrong he was. 

As he leisurely sipped his coffee, enjoying a fleeting moment of calm, the tranquility was shattered by the sudden onslaught of a group of thugs. Seungcheol had braced himself for a possible mugging, but the idea of being abducted never crossed his mind. He curses himself for sending Soonyoung away earlier, now regretting not having company in this unforeseen predicament. 

To make matters worse, Seungcheol felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. A mafia boss getting abducted! 

How humiliating.  

Now, do not get him wrong, he was, in reality, as far from incompetent as the Sahara was from water, as Seungkwan was from being calm, as Jihoon was from showing affection—you get the point. 

In fact, he had been the first in three generations to successfully reclaim the southeastern part of the city for his clan from the Yoon family, a testament to his capabilities. 

Now bound and surrounded by three hapless captors whose incompetence was glaringly evident, judging by the one who he suspects was crying prior to their conversation with him. He suspected they had targeted Mingyu, but mistakenly seized him instead. Seungcheol could not help but shake his head at their sheer incompetence. 

Now, again, he is not that scared. He knows he has a trusted pack of workers who would join heaven and earth in search of him. No, he is least bothered about himself. 

What he is actually bothered about is who planned to abduct Mingyu, because he is strictly off limits for his clan members. He knows this as much as anyone that they respect the young heir a lot, not only due to his kind nature, but also because of the relationship he has with their leader. 

So, when he informs his three kidnappers his name, he gets the weirdest of responses ever—a chorus of ‘shits’ and ‘fucks.’ Moreover, he sees all three of his kidnappers suddenly fall down at his feet and grumbling out the most nonsensical bullshit ever. The only words he vaguely captures are ‘it was supposed to be someone else’ and ‘sirs’. 

This confuses the man even more. But then he suddenly sees all three of them take their masks off, revealing two men and, dare he say, a very gorgeous woman. Now in any other situation,

Seungcheol would have laughed, but now that he is in it himself, the only reaction he can provide is a confused head nod as the woman immediately goes to untie his hands. 

-- 

“So, you are telling me that you were paid to abduct my friend who you know is off limits, but still went ahead with the idea, even though you are the members of my gang?!”  

He says as he looks at your group standing in front of him with their heads bowed down looking like kids getting scolded.  

“But sir, we barely make any money from doing the jobs assigned to us. The only way for us to pay our rent was for taking up jobs from outside, and this one paid us a huge sum. We never wanted you to be the one getting abducted instead, we swear!” you suddenly exclaim with the extreme need to explain yourself. 

Your two partners beside you do their dutiful job by nodding their heads with your rant. 

“You three fucked up really bad, didn’t you?” He says, looking a tad bit amused. 

“We are really sorry!” Seokmin chokes out, visibly scared by the whole ordeal. 

“Well, it’s time I go back, so take me back to the office.” 

Right after that statement comes out of his mouth, you three are escorting him out of the door to the car parked outside to take him back. 

-- 

“So, you are telling me these three, these newbies who literally didn’t have any good job for them to gain experience, drugged your ass and took you to god knows where, and you couldn’t even put up a good fight?!” 

Jeonghan exclaims, looking at the seated, nervous, and scared faces of the three of you from Seungcheol’s office’s glass. 

“Apparently not,” the older man sighs. 

“My friend, are you sure you are a real mafia? Because in light of the current happenings, I am starting to question your integrity a lot.” Jeonghan says as he barks out a laugh, taking immense pleasure at his friend’s humiliation. 

“Or maybe you were too caught up staring at the pretty lady to notice that you were getting kidnapped.” 

The bitch continues to make fun of the older man. 

“I just thought I was getting mugged, so I didn’t fight hard enough. Who knew I would be kidnapped instead.” Seungcheol grumbles, pouting a bit. 

“Which is even worse, because you are telling me you would have let people just mug you for no reason when you are one of the most influential people underground!” Jeonghan said while looking pretty concerned about the statement his superior just spewed, and he does indeed have a hard time accepting it. 

“Ahh! Just get over with it and let me go. Plus make sure the three of them face the appropriate consequences for not only abducting me, but also trying to abduct my friend,” Seungcheol barks out while walking out, thoroughly humiliated, and annoyed that his junior was having fun at his expense. 

So Jeonghan does the very thing at which he is extremely good. 

Create chaos. 

 Right after his superior leaves, he strides towards the group and says, “so because the boss has instructed me to do something with you three which will stop you guys from going off the hook, I’m going to assign you some jobs in the organization because I can.” 

Now, anyone even vaguely familiar with Jeonghan would recognize the expression he wore just before chaos ensued, but contrary to popular belief, Jeonghan is actually quite amiable—at least, that is what he believes, and that is what matters, right? 

He continues, “Junhui, you will be overseeing the artillery division. Our deputy head Chan will ensure you are well informed about your job. You will meet him tomorrow. As for Seokmin,” he paused, a sly smile crossing his face, which made Seokmin visibly nervous, “You, my friend, will be our esteemed boss's driver. Lastly, y/n, you will be his assistant. You shall be meeting Chan tomorrow, too; he will explain the workings of your new role.” 

Normally, in any ordinary conversation, you would not dare ask inappropriate questions, but the circumstances were far from normal, so you proceeded with the most audacious question you could muster: “Why did Chan leave his previous post?” 

Jeonghan politely responded, “He left because the job didn’t suit him, so we shifted him to the artillery department as a deputy head.” 

Unspoken was the fact that Chan had been worn down by the boss's relentless bullying, quietly requesting a transfer for at least three years before Jeonghan finally relented. Since then, the turnover of assistants had been alarmingly high. Jeonghan desperately hoped you would stick around. Moreover, if either you or Seungcheol objected to this arrangement, he had enough leverage to ensure you both comply. Enough dirt to keep both of you in line. 

-- 

Your meeting with Chan the next day went well. He explained to you the workings, gave you tips and tricks on how to make sure all the work gets done. Overall, a 10/10 experience, except the small hiccup at the end where he cryptically said something along the lines of “Best of all fucking luck with this job because you will need it.” 

Now a small best of luck is never a bad gesture, but that statement! 

That shit was a bit too hostile, even for you. But you are fine, happy even. Anything that saves you from getting your life cut short by a mafia leader is always welcomed. 

-- 

“What are you doing here?”  

“Where is Jeonghan?” 

The first two sentences to ever leave The Choi Seungcheol’s mouth the minute he sees your face when he comes into his office that afternoon. Indeed, so delightful! 

"Sir, I've been assigned as your work assistant for the time being," you reply, your eyes downcast. It is a surreal turn of events considering just yesterday this man was tied up in your basement. After that ordeal, everything seemed to take on a different hue, almost as if you were hearing the bells of heaven. So, that reaction seems pretty appropriate to you given the circumstances. 

Now you see our oh so beloved Mr. Choi was not just an underground mob because what is the fun in that, right! He mostly did international business under the guise of his company named The ChoiTech, solely based on providing technological change using sustainable means. Pretty cleaver tactic, although overused, but still gets the job done, so who are you to judge. 

The man looking extremely shocked at your statement immediately rushed inside his office, you presume, to call Jeonghan. And sure enough, within five minutes of him disappearing from your sight, you could hear him loudly complaining to his secretary on the phone. “But Jeonghan I can’t be collaborating with her, after what she did to me yesterday!” 

The man whined and then suddenly you could hear hushed whispers, so being the curious cat you were, slowly crept near the door to hear the conversation better. 

“But man, it’s humiliating. She kidnapped me for fucks sake”, the oh so powerful man, who people assumed will one day rule the underworld, whined like a kid who has been denied to go on a playdate with their best friend. 

By this time, you were almost pressed onto the door when suddenly the sound of someone clearing their throat made you jump away from it and look about for the person who stopped you from consuming you daily dose of gossip. 

The culprit, Joshua, stood right in front of your desk with an amused look on his face. 

Now Joshua is someone you were extremely familiar with, being the man who took care of assigning roles to the lower members of the group, you have had a lot of angry conversations with him. 

“I would ask you if Seungcheol is busy, but the way you were trying so hard to eavesdrop, makes me think otherwise,” he says, making you roll your eyes. 

“Just give me a minute to tell him you are here, then you can go in.” 

The man nodded still looking thoroughly amused at how sad you looked due to missing out on whatever conversation you were listening to. 

After a minute, the man was inside, now looking even happier that he has seen his next victim to torment. 

-- 

“So Jeonghan was indeed right,” he said, looking like he was having a tough time controlling his laugh. 

“Not you, too,” the pouty man whined from behind the desk. “But really, can you tell him to not put that woman as my assistant? I get war flashbacks every time I see her face,” he continued whining. 

“I mean, I could do that, but where is the fun there, right!” Joshua, thoroughly enjoying his boss’s misery, replied. “But in all seriousness, you could just treat her like Chan. The boy is still traumatized by the amount of work you made him do,” he thoughtfully added. 

The older replies, “I liked Chan, he was nice, would do anything you ask him to!” 

“And so will she. Her life is at stake here, give her some benefit of the doubt.” 

This statement made the older think like never before. Plans of tormenting you to quit your job rushing past his brain at high speed. Suddenly everything made sense. 

“I can take my revenge! That is exactly why Jeonghan made her my assistant. Oh, my friend is such a genius!” Seungcheol said, looking a bit too enthusiastic. 

“Ok, I am sure it was done to decrease his workload, but whatever you say, man,” the younger said skeptically after seeing the diabolical look on the elder’s face. 

-- 

It has already been three weeks and suddenly you understand what Chan meant all those days back when he wished you good luck. To put it quite plainly, your boss is crazy. 

The man was a combination of workaholic and perfectionist, which resulted in him getting swamped by work and by default the same fate befalls you every day, too. For the past three weeks, you have had a challenging time at the office to even take a break to eat food. 

The men you called your enemies once, aka Jeonghan and Joshua, are the ones now saving you from dying out of malnutrition. You are eternally thankful to them. But more than anything now, you regret trying to kidnap Kim Mingyu—the name makes you want to cry in a corner and throw rocks at people, if you had any time to do so. 

“Sir, you scheduled two appointments at the same time: the new project for the Orin Community Park and another one with Mr. Xu for the narcotic deal.” 

You informed the man who had his face shoved in some papers, reading something diligently.  

“Why did you not stop me from doing so then, you were right beside me when I was going through the plan.” 

Now, it is your job to curate the perfect schedule for the man to follow, but Seungcheol being the guy born only to cause you inconvenience made his schedule for the week himself this time. 

Why you might ask?

Purely because the man is a chronic insomniac and whenever he has trouble sleeping, instead of taking measures to have a peaceful sleep, he tries his hands in different works because he can, and this time his victim was the poor, poor schedule of his. 

“Because you had already sent them both emails, sir,” you say, thoroughly exasperated. 

“Ok maybe I did, so now I obviously can’t cancel on both so you figure out something so that I can attend both the meetings, because I ain’t missing any.” 

The man just turns his chair around and keeps reading whatever he was reading in the first place.

With an extremely calm voice, you say, “sir I need you to stop trying to do something to pass time when you can’t sleep. I need you to actually go to a doctor.”  “Can’t,” comes his response, making you sigh more. 

Sometimes it feels like you are working as a babysitter to a grown man instead of an assistant to a CEO. 

Seeing the conversation would be going nowhere if you keep talking to him, you go out and do the second-best thing in your books. 

Call Chan. 

“Lemme guess, the boss is giving you a hard time!” The first sentence he says right after picking up the phone. 

Sighing, you tell him all of Seungcheol’s various administrative behaviors throughout this week. When you got to the part where he had so bravely and meticulously made the perfect schedule, Chan started laughing. The gall of that boy! 

“Wait, he still does that!” He exclaimed between his laughs, making you feel even more annoyed. 

After calming down he says, “just make Jeonghan or Jihoon go for the community meeting and let him manage the narc. I know you are thankful, so do not mention it, but maybe buy me a meal when you are free, as a repayment.” 

Chuckling at the younger boy, you agreed to get him whatever he asks for purely because he is a literal angel, and he deserves the world. Ok, maybe it is a bit too dramatic, but the boy was indeed your angel in disguise. 

Planning on following through with the advice Chan gave you, you called both Jeonghan and Jihoon simultaneously. As Jeonghan was busy, Jihoon accepted the work of going to the community welfare meeting instead of Seungcheol. 

After that, the whole day was smooth sailing. But the main root of all your problems was happy, maybe not healthy, but the look of pure happiness and the twinkling eyes when he passed by your desk was hard to miss.  

This man was slowly but surely making sure to strip you of your patience bit by bit. 

--  

The last straw to eradicating your already depleting patience came when Seungcheol in all his glory, during one of his nightly ‘Imma take away other’s jobs because sleep refuses to befriend me’ escapades, deleted all your assistant notes for the server by mistake. 

You still are baffled as to how he did that. Truth be told so is he. He was scrolling away on his phone when he saw this reel about ‘how to increase your Wi-Fi speed.’ Extremely intrigued by it, he had actually tried to increase the internet speed in his house, and he swears on every god on planet earth it worked. So, he tried doing so with the one in his office, which weirdly enough resulted in removal of all the information that you had stored in your laptop. 

Now if this would have happened to his computer, too, you would not have gotten as angry as you were, but the motherfucker’s computer was all well and good and if you actually pay attention, it seems that his internet speed has increased, too! 

How this man become a CEO is beyond you. What is not so beyond is your pure hatred for him and his technologically challenged ass. 

So that night when Seungcheol, stayed back as usual to do work, you took your chances, entered his office, and slammed a ball of yarn and two knitting needles on his table while scaring the life out of the, not so, poor man. 

“Start knitting!” you calmly said. 

“But I don’t know how to though!” he replies, thoroughly confused. 

“Then learn, Seungcheol! I don’t care what you want to do, I need you to learn and pick up a hobby, start gaming, try knitting anything! Just make sure you are not trying to turn the office upside down.” 

Anyone who knows Seungcheol also knows never to question his nightly routines, but more than that, they also know the pride of the man is too high to ever accept his mistake. So, when you commit the grave crime of pointing out his mishap with the Wi-Fi router that morning, you hit the nail on the head and pissed him to the fucking moon. 

“So, you think I’m bad at what I do?!” 

“No, I think you are technically inept. And you should leave it to people who are good at it.” 

This pisses off Seungcheol more than anything, but you don’t let him intervene as you keep speaking. 

“On top of that you are constantly making changes in your schedule without informing me. You’re your assistant. Maybe have you ever considered the fact that your schedule was made so that your day is smooth sailing, and no two activities overlap!” 

“Just because you refuse to go to a doctor and try and find a way to manage your stress does not mean you make the workplace hell for us.” 

By the end of your rant, you were fuming and Seungcheol was stunned. 

Clearing his throat, he says awkwardly, “I’m sorry you feel so, I will try and fix my schedule.” 

Now, although this statement made you feel better, it also confused you, as you were fully prepared to have a full-blown fight with the man. Him backing down was never an option. But now that it has happened, you muttered a small, “I shall be going then”, to which your boss meekly nodded. 

After you were outside, you ended up feeling better due to unloading all your anger on the man. It was refreshing. Now you just needed to see what changes tomorrow will bring for Seungcheol. 

-- 

It had been two months since you had the argument with Seungcheol, more like your single woman shouting spree. But things have been better. He has tried to keep his need for new experiences down and this has made your life exponentially easier.  

Did you now have time to eat. Absolutely not! 

But the office was not a nightmare anymore.  

If someone would have told you five months ago that this is what your future held for you, you would have straight up laughed at their face and told them to get themselves checked. But life has weird ways of throwing you in situations you don’t expect yourself to be in, and you have no other ways of getting out but learn to go with the flow. 

You sometimes talk to Jun and Seokmin, and you have realized you got the hardest of all the jobs.

You asked Jeonghan about it once and his answer was, “because I can and its fun!” 

So here you are sitting on the couch with Seokmin while enjoying your sandwich when you see Seungcheol come outside carrying a bag, Jeonghan trailing behind him sporting this devilish look on his face. 

The big man walks towards you and hands you the bag. Opening it you notice a green scarf sitting at the bottom. 

“Seungcheol’s first knitting creation, and he says thank you for forcing him to learn knitting. It helps him sleep now.” Jeonghan says while pointing at the bag even before the older man could open his mouth. 

Seokmin tries to make himself as invisible as possible while looking extremely interested in the whole situation unfolding in front of him. 

Seungcheol waves his hands at Jeonghan trying to hush him down and whines, “let me speak!” 

“I made this cause you told me it would help me sleep! I didn’t think it could actually help me, but it looks like it did, so I’m extremely thankful for your suggestion.”

“Good job!” Jeonghan says, patting Seungcheol’s head like he was a child, making you laugh a bit. 

“Thank you for listening to me, sir!” 

“Oh, no, call him by his name, or else he will become weird with you again!” Jeonghan says, making you laugh again. Seungcheol pouts at both of you and storms back to his office, with Jeonghan at his tail making fun of him yet again. 

After that, you kept the bag in your desk and went to bid your friend goodbye. 

“He looked like he was confessing to his crush, you know”, Seokmin muses. 

“Maybe he has a crush on you!” He exclaimed after pausing for a moment. 

“I don’t, he is a weird person,” you had replied thoughtfully. 

Realizing he has been chatting with you for a long time, Seokmin quickly rushes outside while loudly screaming a ‘goodbye’ for the whole building to hear. 

When you came back to your desk, Jeonghan was waiting for you there. The man just looked at you with a smirk and said, “see you later y/n, and make sure to wear the scarf!” 

Jeonghan is a weird person. You more often than not don’t listen to what he tells you to do. He forces you to do them anyways. 

“Seriously, lady, do wear the scarf. Plus, it’s cold outside—you won’t get a heatstroke if you do so.” 

With that he was outside of the office, too. Slowly work caught up with you and you forgot about the scarf altogether. 

-- 

That evening, as you were finishing up at work and preparing to leave, you grabbed the scarf that had been gifted to you and wrapped it around your neck before stepping out of the office. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man who had given you the scarf felt a rush of joy upon seeing you wear it. Concealing his flushed cheeks, he quietly followed you out and spontaneously invited you to join him for dinner, explaining that he had given Seokmin the night off and now was in extreme need of a dinner companion, as Seokmin would fill in that position on most nights. It was unusual for him to make such a request, but you were both hungry and couldn't resist the offer of a free meal, even if it was from someone as harmless as him. 

"So, what do you think?" Seungcheol asked as the two of you sat at the ramen shop waiting for your orders. 

"About what?" You replied, genuinely puzzled by his question. 

"Didn't you read the letter?" He asked, his face turning even redder as he mentioned it. 

"What letter?" You responded, glancing around until Seungcheol nodded towards the bag in which he gave you the scarf, looking inside you noticed an envelope that matched the interior perfectly sitting at the bottom. 

"Oh! I can read it now," you exclaimed. 

"Don't worry about it right now," he interjected as the waiter arrived with your bowls of ramen. 

Despite his reluctance to discuss the letter further, your curiosity only grew stronger after he dropped you off at your doorstep. Once inside your home, you wasted no time in retrieving the letter from your bag. Its contents filled you with excitement like never before. 

The following day at the office, you placed another letter on Seungcheol's desk before getting on with your usual tasks, eager to see his reaction. 

-- 

"So, let me get this straight—you've been dating our boss for the past month?" Exclaimed Jun, eyes wide with disbelief. 

"Why didn't you tell us sooner? How did this even happen?!" Chimed in Seokmin, equally stunned by the news. 

As soon as you revealed your relationship with Seungcheol, you found yourself bombarded with a flurry of questions from your friends. It was amusing to witness their sheer astonishment, and yet, deep down, it felt incredibly rewarding to share this surprising news with them.

What started as a casual hangout quickly transformed into a lively interrogation session, with your friends firing off all sorts of curious inquiries. Most pressing among them was the question: 

“How and when did all of this happen?!” 

You couldn't blame them for their curiosity. It seemed like just yesterday that you had kidnapped Seungcheol off the street instead of his friend Mingyu, which resulted in Jeonghan gaining the perfect opportunity to bully you both half to death. And let's not forget the hell and back experience you were subjected to from Seungcheol himself, the man who had once resorted to extreme tactics to get you to quit as he was reminded of the oh so humiliating experience he went through every time he saw your face. But somehow, it all worked out in the end, and you couldn't be happier about how it turned out. 

Near the end of your gathering, you couldn't resist the urge to pull out your phone and reveal the most treasured image in your gallery: a photograph capturing two pieces of paper resting on a desk. One paper bore a lengthy paragraph, while the other simply displayed a single, bold sentence: 

"Take me out on a proper date first!" 

The photo encapsulated perfectly how you both worked so well with each other. It was a sweet reminder of how unexpectedly love can bloom in the most unconventional of circumstances. 

As your friends marveled at the photo, you couldn't help but reflect on how far you and Seungcheol had come in such a short time. Despite the initial hurdles and challenges you faced with the man, you were grateful for the bond you now shared—a relationship built on laughter, friendship, and, of course, a bit of unexpected romance. 

The end hope you like it !!

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[kiwisbell]

Las Mañanas || Chapter 5 [javier peña]

She’s a waitress in a little café. He’s a DEA agent who likes the coffee. Just the coffee. That’s all. Or, slices of life (and sometimes pie) shared between Javi and his wife, including his tireless journey to making her his wife.

series masterlist | my masterlist

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags/warnings: javi getting the fucking love he deserves, coffee shop AU if you squint really hard, reader no longer has a shitty husband(!!), mentions of sex work, soft and sweet!javi, protective!javi, grumpy!javi, simp!javi tbh, alcohol, smoking, so much fluff, nobody fucks with javi's girl, overuse of spanish pet names, poorly-translated spanish, "she" pronoun used throughout, oral sex (m and f receiving), guilt & shame, brief relationship angst, stakeouts, stechner is a dick, javi is an idiot for a while, premature ejaculation, makeup sex (actually makeup pussy-eating), chucho being peak dad, nightmares

word count: ~ 7.6k

a/n: communicate with your partners, people.

chapter five: love me until i love myself

They don't fight often. But when it happens, it's usually Javier’s fault. This time is no different. 

You could hardly call them fights. Sometimes he forgets he's allowed to share things with her, that he doesn't need to stay silent and mope the way he was used to doing before they met. Sometimes he catches himself smoking by the window when she's asleep because he's woken up and can’t go back, no matter how warm and soft she is beside him. She’ll wake up, too, sensing his absence—then she'll sit by the window with him and give him a good stare until he realises he can talk. He can open up. 

Sometimes he doesn't. It happens when he gets worked up, when he's been suffering through bureaucracy and red tape and evasive weasels. He doesn't want to burden her with that shit, so he buries it; he needs to feel it, to stew so he can get past it next time. But she doesn't take it. 

“Be honest with me,” she said, softly, sliding onto his lap in the chair by the window. “Is there anything I’ve done to make you feel like you can't tell me these things?”

It wasn't a vindictive question. It was a real one, full of genuine curiosity. And it made him feel like a total asshole. “No, baby. Fuck no.”

She pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him there. “We're partners,” she whispered against his skin. “It kills me to see you so down, honey. I know it's the job, but I hate knowing I can't help.”

Javier crushed his cigarette and pulled her in close, flush to his chest, while he blew out smoke. “You help me just by breathing, amor.”

“Talking takes breathing,” she said teasingly, nosing along his cheek. “You can talk to me, Javier. I know sometimes you don't want to, and that's okay, but what’s not okay is you shutting me out, ignoring me. I had enough of that when I was married.”

And that gentle scolding kicked some real fucking sense into him. “Shit,” he grunted, rubbing his hand over his face. “Shit, baby, I know. I’m sorry.” He cradled the back of her head and looked into her eyes. “I’ll talk.” He pulled her in and kissed her. She sighed into his mouth. 

He was a complete dumbass. He didn't deserve the way her body curved into his or her soft moans melted his bones. He didn't deserve the kindness of her reprimands when he'd been so fucking stupid. But, like she sensed his self-loathing creeping up, she pulled away and said, “I love you. Nothing’s going to change that. You’re not like him and you will never be like him. Te amo, vaquero.” She kissed him hard. “Te amo.”

This time, it feels worse. Los Pepes have him on edge, worried about when they'll inevitably turn, deciding she's a good target if he makes a wrong move. He’s in bed with narcos, while he sleeps next to the love of his life. It's the stupidest decision he's made in a long time, and it's a decision he made to keep the streets safer. 

He didn't know then that digging in deep would put her trust in him at risk. 

“Los Pepes will serve him justice,” says Don Berna with a mirthless laugh. “Ever in your service, Agent Peña.”

Javier sniffs. “You're in your own service.”

Tomorrow morning, Los Pepes will raid the home of Rodolfo Vargas, a trafficker recently recruited by the Medellín cartel to move drugs through his auto body shop. They're effective and efficient, and they're bloody as all hell. More violence isn't what Medellín needs, but it's what they'll get if they want any chance at taking down the cartel. It's not a rosy job, and Javier hates himself more and more for it each visit he makes with Berna. 

“Got a cigarette?”

It's a bait of a question. Javier’s clearly already smoking. It’s a test to see if he’s willing to stay and chat after their exchange. He isn't, but this means Berna’s got more to say. 

Javier passes him a cigarette, but he lets the man light it on his own. “That's one beautiful woman you keep on your arm, Peña,” says Berna good-naturedly. 

That gruff voice of his grates Javier’s ears and incites a vague panic. But his fury rings loud and clear. “I’ve seen many beautiful women in my life,” he says evenly. 

Don't you dare fucking talk about her. Leave her out of this. 

Berna’s laugh is a real goddamned smoker’s laugh. If Javier doesn't quit the way he’s been talking about, he'll sound like that before he’s forty. “It’s a nice little place she runs. Good coffee.” His eyes slide Javier's way. “Don't see a ring on her finger.”

“Do you have a point, Berna?” He can pass off the tightness in his jaw as his cheeks hollowing around his cigarette. But not for much longer. He's learned his limits when it comes to her; it doesn't take much taunting talk like this for him to show his hand. He needs to manoeuvre carefully. 

“No point, my friend,” says Berna. “It's good to see men like you happy. And with a woman like her”—he whistled—“I can see why you smile. Do you do this for her?”

Javier scoffs like he couldn't be bothered for such unmanly talk. “I came out here to smoke alone, you know. I do this because it's my job.”

“That's good to know.” Berna takes another drag. “Los Pepes will make Medellín safer for your girl.” 

Berna knows he's in Javier’s head. He's got the upper hand with the mention of her. He must have seen them together last night. Javier took her out to dinner. “Fuck you, and fuck your threats,” he says at last. “We have a deal, Berna. Aiming threats at her is the best way to break it.”

He crushes his cigarette and leaves in his truck. By the time he gets home, it's an hour later than he promised, and his body is tense enough to saw a plank of wood in half. She's still awake, as they promised so long ago, lounging on the couch while the TV drones a telenovela. She loves them. They're the kind of mindless drama she gets sucked into. The real-world shit has burned her one too many times. 

“Hi,” she says softly, sitting up and yawning. “Everything okay?”

And she isn't angry. Of course she's not angry; it's their deal that they stay awake for one another so they won't go to bed upset. It's perfectly reasonable. 

So Javier, like the moron he is, grunts and leaves for the bathroom without so much as a kiss hello. 

He splashes water onto his face and stares in the mirror as the seconds tick by. He turns the shower hot, hot enough to scald, and stands underneath the stream. He doesn't even wash himself. He just drowns in self-loathing until enough time has passed that he can call it a shower. 

When he leaves the bathroom, she's moved to the kitchen. He smells soup, and his stomach grumbles with hunger he didn't know he was feeling. He hasn't eaten since breakfast. 

Neither of them speaks until she places a bowl in front of him and sits down. “You had a hard day,” she says, looking him in the eye even as he feels too ashamed to meet hers. “I understand. It's unfair of you to treat me like I don’t.”

He knows. Fuck, he knows. She doesn't deserve this. But his brain won't let him pry his mouth open to let her in. It's like someone’s put a lock in his own head. He feels tight inside, his stomach a coil that won't snap. It’s not you. It’s. Not. You. I just can't stop hating myself and the things I do. I love you so fucking much. I need you to be safe. Know that. Please. 

He can't say any of it. “Everything’s fine,” he shoves out. 

Her lips purse. “You're scaring me, Javier. You're coming home late, and you're acting like I’m not here, and you look out the windows every five minutes. Is there someone coming for us? Do I need to be worried?”

“I told you,” he bites, “everything’s fine. I just—”

“Had a hard day.” She nods slowly, but that pinch of irritation in her eyes doesn't leave. “But it isn't fine. I think you know by now that I know you better than anyone. So what makes you think I’m going to leave this alone?”

“Nothing,” he says, and it snaps harsher in the quiet air than he meant it to. “Nothing makes me believe you'll leave it alone, because you never leave anything alone. You keep digging and digging and I don't want to fucking talk. Talking doesn't solve shit. So just leave. It. Alone.”

He doesn't even mean it. And he certainly doesn't mean to say it all to her. Never her. But he can't take it back, and now he sounds just like her ex-husband. 

Her face crumbles. She doesn't even look angry anymore; she just looks sad. She shuts down, pulls her hand back. “I’m going to eat downstairs with Connie,” she says, her voice breaking. “She’s alone tonight, too. I’ll let you think.” 

When she stands, she lifts her hand like she wants to touch his cheek the way she usually does when they stand from the dinner table. Javier chokes on every word he wants to say. He wants to stand up and grab her and pull her close, and he wants to let everything fall out while he begs her to stay. I can’t lose you. 

But he lets the door click softly shut behind him. 

He feels the bed dip a little after midnight. He's still awake when he feels her lips against his cheek, but he keeps his eyes closed. He's definitely still awake when he hears her sniffle quietly beside him, the sound muffled. She's facing away from him. 

~

They wake up at the same time, their eyes meeting in that slow, groggy way until they both remember where they are. Where they are. 

He opens his mouth, but she scrambles out of bed like a bomb went off and heads to the bathroom. 

“You should let me drive you,” he rasps when he leaves the bedroom to see her packing her purse for work. She's already dressed, fresh-faced and ready, but her eyes are sunken. 

She fakes a smile, and he notices the way her eyes don't fully meet his. She just looks at a spot above his brow. “I’m okay,” she says, too brightly to be real. “I’ll be safe. Have a—” She catches herself before she can say Have a good day. “I’ll see you after work. Love you.”

She leaves without letting him return it. Without a kiss good-bye. He deserves it all. She deserves to shove a knife straight into his chest and twist. It would dull the pain that rests there now. 

“I love you,” he says to the empty room. 

~

I’m going to fucking kill you. 

Nonono. Not him. Please, take me, not him. I love him. Please.

Not her. Leave her alone. I’ll fucking hunt you down. I’ll fucking kill you, I swear.

You’ll regret leaving me. I’ll make you watch him die. Then I’ll take you back. You’ll remember that you loved me.

She jolts awake from another nightmare. Her hand comes up to stifle her cries so she doesn't wake Javier.

Javier, who's lying next to her, his face gentle and serene with sleep, lips slightly parted, naked and holding her close. The morning light turns his face golden, and he's so peaceful she can't think to wake him just because she had a nightmare. So, she slips out from under his heavy arm, from his legs which are tangled with hers, and stumbles to the bathroom. She clicks the door gently shut and sinks to the floor so she can let herself cry.

Javier wakes when he feels her warmth slip away. He shuffles absentmindedly toward her side of the bed, eyes still closed, only to pout when her body isn't there for him to bury himself deep into. For a moment, he's just grumpy, but then he blinks himself awake and starts to feel uneasy. Like something is wrong.

The bathroom door is closed, but there are soft sniffles coming from within. Javier's heart spikes and he pushes open the door without thinking.

What he sees destroys him. She's sitting on the floor with her nightgown on, knees drawn up to her chest, leaning against the vanity. She scrambles to her feet when the door opens, wiping underneath her eyes aggressively. "Morning," she says weakly, trying to smile.

Javier smooths back her hair and presses a kiss to her forehead. "Baby, what's wrong? What happened?"

His mere touch seems to set her off again. She grasps his wrists hard and sobs shudder through her body. "Bad—" She hiccups. "Bad dream. I'm sorry, this is stupid. Didn't mean to wake you. It’s late."

"It's morning, honey." He doesn't like the way the corners of her mouth pull down, the way her eyes shine with such misery. He especially doesn’t like that he put that look on her face when he refused to let her in. "Talk to me," he says softly. "¿Sí?"

She sniffles. "He made me watch you die. He killed you. I couldn't even look. I just wanted to die, too. I'm sorry. I'm..." She buries her face in her hands and begins to cry again. Javier's heart snaps.

"Ven aquí, cielito, ven aquí." He keeps on muttering to her while she wraps her arms around him and holds on tight, her nails digging into his back. He doesn't mind. "I'm here, baby," he says into her hair. "I've got you. I'm here. Not going anywhere."

She presses her face so deep into his body it's like she's trying to make them one person. “Can't lose you.” 

“Never gonna lose me,” he says, kissing the top of her head. “Got a lot to stay alive for, hey?”

She sniffles and looks up at him. “I didn't deserve the way you talked to me that night.”

“No. You didn't. I’ve been a complete asshole.” He caresses her arms.

“Want to tell me why?” she offers. 

The unbreachable safe inside his head cracks open when she places her hand over his heart. “Fuck, baby, I just—you’re my life.” He breathes in and surprises himself when it stings, when he feels the hot prick of tears behind his eyes. “I say it all the time, but I can't lose you. I can’t. It would kill me. And what I’m doing—it's dangerous and stupid. It's something I never should have done. But I’m in deep, and if I make a wrong move…”

He's crying before he knows it, but he doesn't try to stop. He buries himself in her, holding her close and wetting the crook of her neck while her hands rub soothing circles over his back, his neck. “Javi,” she whispers, her own voice choked with tears. “It’s okay. We're okay. I’m all yours.”

She's babbling just as much as he was, but it feels so good, uncoiling the tight wire around his heart. “I just want to know that you trust us both enough to talk to me. That you trust us to fix things when they're wrong.”

“Wanna keep you away from all of it,” he huffs into her hair, grabbing a chunk of it just because it’s so soft. “Never want you to see another fuckin’ second of pain.”

“Vaquero,” she coos. “I lived a tough life when I came here. Made bad choices. I’ve seen pain and I’ll see more. But you’re the one who brought me out. You helped when you never had to. I loved you all the way back then, and I’ll love you no matter what you have to do.”

“How…” He chokes on the words, but forces them out anyway. “How can you say that when you don’t know?”

What he’s done, what is yet to come. The laws he’s broken, the people he’s cut a deal with.

She shakes her head. “I trusted you enough to put my life in your hands. I trust that you’re good. That’s all I know, Javier. I know you’re good.”

Their kiss is wet and salty with tears, but it feels like a bridge has mended. 

This is what happens when you love a person: you blame everyone in the world but them. You blame the world itself for opening up a rift between you. When it closes, you go to bed, and you rest your head upon their chest and feel the stitches where the edges were sewn back up. It will be okay. 

~

Lying in bed with his head on her chest, he tells her everything about Los Pepes. Her stomach plummets and her lips press together, but when he's done, she keeps on stroking his hair and she whispers, “Thank you.”

She's terrified for him. But he feels strangely lighter, falling slowly asleep on her as she hums a song she used to sing to her sister. Los Pepes is a speck that he can wipe off the window. This, here, with her, is the only clarity he's ever had. 

~

She's three orgasms in, and Javier just. Keeps. Going. 

She's going to be late for work. The morning sun spills over the bed, warming her naked, sweating skin, but she’s lost track of time. She's twisting her fingers into the pillow she grabbed two orgasms ago, holding it to her face when he pulls her clit into his mouth and sucks… making her come for a fourth fucking time. 

Her scream is raw and practically noiseless. She can barely see with the tears clouding her vision, but she seeks his face out, trying to bring herself back to reality. Her whole body is limp and useless, her thighs twitching as she comes down. 

He looks like he's in heaven. His eyes are open, their soft brown wide and seeking, making sure she's all right, not too stimulated. His hair is wild from her grip and his fingers are going to bruise her legs, but he looks so beautiful like this. He closes his eyes and groans when he tastes her cum, lapping around her clit and licking up into her, drinking it all down. She thinks she's going to black out. 

She tells him as much. He chuckles, which only makes her yelp from the stimulation at her clit as he returns to it, licking in aching circles. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she cries. “Fuck, Javi, I can't… Feels too good… Fuck!”

He just keeps working her up until her whole body is trembling, her mind lifting free of its shackles once again as she crashes into Earth like a meteor, no more body, no more bed. She floats. 

She knows he's making up for the two days they barely spoke, but she can't be bothered to call him on it when she lost her ability to prod around her own brain hours ago. 

To his credit, he's always loved eating her out. It's like a sport for him, an addiction. He loves making her squirm, holding her by the thighs while he sends her head soaring into space. He loves tasting her, soaking his face with her, making her cry and moan until her throat rips raw. He's obsessed with her, wants to be possessed by her. And he's so hard he's leaking a constant stream on the sheets, grinding into the mattress when it gets too agonising. This is about her. 

It doesn't stop the wet, hot sensation underneath him as he sucks her clit into his mouth, a familiar shuddering crash knocking down each knob of his spine. He grunts, hips jerking into the bed. 

She comes for a sixth time before she taps him frantically on the hand and he lifts his head, resting his cheek on her thigh. Her eyes are staring up at the ceiling, her mouth open, chest heaving. She's sweating and her hair is a halo around her head. She's a vision. 

He shifts, crawling up the bed and rolling them over so she's on top of him, knowing she can barely support her own head. She hums on his chest but frowns when she wiggles her hips up against his. 

“You…”

“Yeah.” He pulls her in and kisses her hard, helping her centre herself in the world again. 

He came on the bed sheets. Without her touching him. 

“Mi vaquero,” she mumbles, kissing all over his face, her lips grazing every square inch from his jaw to his temples. “So good to me.”

He hushes her at that, grabbing her jaw and kissing her on the mouth again. He doesn't want to hear that. He's been terrible, fucking awful to her. But she's different this morning, already visibility lighter as she chirps about the bedroom, pulling on a sundress. He's old enough that his refractory period isn't what it was as a teenager, but his cock is already growing interested again as he watches her move about, her ass a beautiful sight in that dress. When she walks close to the bed, he pulls her back down on top of him. 

“I’m already late!” she laughs, playfully smacking his chest. He rolls over and pins her down, naked atop her. “Aye, viejo. You’ll hurt your back.”

“Don’t give a shit,” he murmurs, kissing down her jaw, throat, and collarbones with sloppy caresses of his tongue. “My fucking beautiful girl.”

She shrieks as his hands leave her wrists to drag down her waist. “Tickles!” She tangles her fingers in his hair and lifts his head up, grinning down at him with flushed cheeks. “Honey, if we don't get up now, we're not getting up at all.”

“Mmm.” He sinks his teeth playfully into her throat. 

“Vampiro,” she huffs, but he can feel her getting worked up, rolling her hips against his naked cock even though she’s already come six times. They roll again, and she's on top. A soft growl sounds through his throat when he sees his precum stain the front of her dress. The friction is fucking good. Javier’s mouth falls open and he loses his grip on her involuntarily when she pulls down the straps of her dress and exposes her breasts to him while she rides. “You can come like this, can’t you?” she pants, grinding against him.

He’s nodding frantically, but he can’t even hold his head up once she starts rolling her hips harder. “Sh—shit,” he whispers, reaching out for her hips to help her along. She whimpers. “Fuck, baby. Fuck, keep going. So good. Shit, sweetheart…”

Her head falls back against her shoulders, and he admires the smooth column of her throat as her mouth drops open and she cries out. Freezing on his cock, her whole body shudders, and she comes. “That’s it,” he bites out, “take what you need, amor.”

She’s grinding on him again before she comes down all the way, planting her hands on his chest. It doesn’t take long for him to come, too, baring his teeth and barely choking out, “Coming.”

She slides down his body and takes his cock in her hand, pumping until he begins to spurt his cum over his chest. He slams his hand down on the mattress and twists the sheets in his hand, eyes squeezing shut. They fly open immediately once he feels her hot mouth wrap around his cock and take the last few spurts down her throat. The sight alone prolongs his orgasm until his cum spills out of her mouth, dribbling down her chin. She swipes it up with her thumb and swallows it all down. Even softening, his cock still twitches in her hand. 

He swallows. “Christ.” His voice is raw. “I’m late.”

“We were late when you made me come the fourth time.” She kisses his cheek. “C’mon, viejo. Drive me to work—I’ll bring you something to eat on my break.”

She does. Javier is still looking down at his typewriter when Murphy cheers, lifting his coffee mug into the air. He’s on the phone. “Empanadas! Can I have some, sweetheart?”

Javier rips the receiver out of his hand. “Baby, why'd you call Steve instead of me?”

“You weren't answering your phone,” she says sweetly. 

“My phone hasn't rung.”

“Maybe I just wanted to bug you.” She’s grinning wickedly from the sound of her voice. “I’m talking with Penny if you wanna see me.”

He really does. He tosses the receiver back at Murphy, who keeps on talking to her while Javier makes his way downstairs to the front desk. She's in a different outfit because he stained her dress when he finished on it: a pair of jeans that show off her ass in a way that makes his eye twitch and one of his polos, tucked into her waistband. He's surprised he manages to refrain from pouncing on her like a cat when he reaches her. 

“Mi amor,” he whispers in her ear. “Long time, no see.”

She bites her lip, still holding the phone to her other ear. “Yeah, Steve. I’ll tell him. And you're both invited to dinner Saturday night. Yeah. No, no, don't worry about it. Yeah. Bye, Steve. Say hi to Connie for me.”

Javier holds her around the waist when he greets Penny, pushing his sunglasses down his nose and winking. The middle-aged receptionist blushes at him like she always does. His girl kisses him on the cheek and hands back the receiver to Penny. “Thank you, honey,” says the receptionist. 

She hands Javier a paper bag that's warm to the touch. “Yeah,” he says lowly, kissing her because he can, “thank you, honey.”

She looks up at him with doe’s eyes. “I’ve got an hour.”

That's what he likes to hear. Javier takes her hand and guides her upstairs, hoping to find an empty conference room for the pair of them to eat away from prying eyes. 

“Aren't you two a pair.”

Bill Stechner wanders out of the men’s bathroom and blocks their path down the hallway. She curls up close to Javier and wraps her hand around his arm. He's told her about this asshole. “Stechner. I've got lunch to eat.”

He doesn't budge. “So this is the infamous Señora Peña. Well, not yet, but I’m rooting for you. If only he would just get on with it, right?” His good-natured smile has a predatory gleam to it. 

She smiles politely. “Mr. Stechner.”

No Nice to meet you, the way she usually greets people. The man doesn’t look at Javier, keeping his eyes on his girl instead; it’s enough to heat up Javier’s blood a couple degrees. “I’d like a word, Mr. Peña,” he says.

“Told you,” he bites out. “Busy.”

“Wasn’t a request. The pretty lady can manage five minutes alone, right?” 

Javier feels his eye twitch. 

“Honey,” she says, “I think I’d like a kiss.”

And she pulls Javier down by the back of his neck, kissing him hard enough to bruise, right in front of Stechner. She pulls the sunglasses off his nose while their mouths are connected and places them atop her own head. Lost in the addictive sweetness that surrounds her at all times, Javier slants his mouth over hers and slips his tongue past her teeth. It takes an obnoxiously loud cough from Stechner for her to break away, smiling up at him like she's innocent, like she didn't ride the soul out of Javier this morning. 

“Your word with my husband can wait,” she tells Stechner. “I’m here on my lunch. Have a nice day, Mr. Stechner.”

She slips by him as he watches her with a vaguely amused sneer. Javier follows her, but Stechner claps him on the shoulder. “Good woman,” he says quietly. “Knows what's best for you. I’ll see you in my office when she's gone, yeah?” He walks down the hallway in the opposite direction, repeating the words “good woman” under his breath. 

Javier scoops up her hand and takes her into the closest empty conference room he can find. “Javi,” she says softly, “your nostrils are flaring.”

“Yeah.” He barely gets the word out before he's on her mouth again, a bruising kiss that lets him push all his need, all his desperation and tension, into her lungs. He wants to consume her. His brave, strong girl. The whirlwind. The calm when the gale dies down. She's everything, and he kisses her like it. 

He's devouring her, messy, sucking on her tongue and slipping his hands underneath her shirt. She stumbles against the table and he lifts her up onto it, staggering himself as he tries to find something to hold onto and chooses her instead: her face, her throat, her hips. 

He only pulls away because she's panting, desperate to suck in air, and he won't have her struggling for breath just yet. “Shit,” she gasps, prodding her lips with her finger. “Shit, honey, I didn't know you liked other people watching us that much.”

He nudges his nose against her cheek. He can't move away from her; he just keeps shifting closer, one leg between both of hers, his torso flush to her chest. He wants to become part of her. “So fucking good,” he mutters. “Making him look like an idiot. Showing him who I fuckin' belong to.”

“Mmm.” She drags her nails up the base of his neck and he bares his teeth against her skin. “You like that, vaquero? Kissing me in front of that asshole?”

He shifts his hands to her thighs just so he can squeeze her. “Yeah, I do. Most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen. And all mine.”

“Siempre, Javier,” she breathes into his cheek. 

He grins, biting her jaw. “Don't think I didn't catch that, baby.”

“Catch what?” she asks coyly, sending blood rushing to his cock. 

“You called me your husband.”

“Did I?” She shrugs, wiggling against him and pulling him closer, somehow. “Oh, well. Felt like the right thing to say.”

He cannot cope with the amount of love inside him. It breaks him in two, cleaves him open at the chest and pulls his beating heart right out of it for her to see. To touch and hold and keep forever. He doesn't know how to tell her she owns the part of him that keeps him alive, so he kisses her again. “Mi amor,” he mumbles. “Mi esposa. Gonna marry you and keep you with me forever. Everyone’s gonna fuckin’ know it's you, baby.”

She giggles, a bit drunk from kissing him and bruising her lips. “Better work on that proposal, then, cowboy. My hour’s running out.”

“Not here,” he says. “I’m gonna do it properly. Romance you.”

She lifts a brow and places a hand on his chest. “Can’t do that on an empty stomach. Eat.”

They sit next to one another at the table and dig into her empanadas like they've never eaten a day in their lives. It feels true, given they missed breakfast to fuck. Her feet up on his lap, he rubs the bone of her ankle with his thumb. “He's a dick,” she says out of the blue. “He's entitled and he's dangerous. He's got too much power over you, Javi.”

He squeezes her ankle. “So do you, baby, but you don't see me complaining.”

She gives him a hard look. “I don't have anything to do with your job. He does.”

They can’t talk about Los Pepes here, not with the chance someone could overhear. But he knows her code, the way she knows his. Javier cups her cheek and traces her bottom lip with his thumb. “Wanna know what I know?” She nods, looking up at him with her softened, buttery eyes, the eyes that make his brain spout any nonsense as long as it makes her happy. “I know I don’t have shit if I don’t have you.”

She bites her lip to stop her smile. “Don’t let any of those guys out there hear you say that.”

“Those guys…” He leans forward slowly only to grab her thigh and pull her onto his lap. “… don’t have you. Don’t know how fuckin’ crazy you make a man.”

She hums, grasping his jaw in her hand. “Just one man.”

It makes him feel manic, primal, his head buzzing with desire. His blood is hot and his fingers squeeze her thighs hard enough to leave indents. He shifts to wrap his arm around her waist possessively. All of him feels possessive—he’s crawling with the itch to keep her close to him, bury himself in her, never let the world touch her the way it has before.

He breathes into her neck like it’s oxygen and he’s drowning. “Need to… Fuck, need…”

“Javi,” she says gently, her touch a cooling balm to his heated skin as she slips her hands under the collar of his shirt and presses down on his shoulders. It grounds him here, with her. “I need it, too, Javi. Need you all the time. But I have to go back to work.”

It’s a perfectly reasonable excuse. Her hour’s almost up. So he reacts reasonably: he shoves his face into her hair and huffs like a grumpy old dog. She laughs, exasperated. “Drive me back.”

“It’s a block away, baby.” He’s still grumbling against her, the need for her so intense he refuses to peel himself away.

She lifts a brow at him like she can’t believe he would dare to refuse her offer. “Drive me back,” she says again, “and take the long way around.”

He perks up, the dog who knows he’s going to the park. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, sliding off him and offering her hand. “I forgot to wear panties.”

He’s certain every single person in the building knows why they’re leaving together, but he doesn’t give a shit. He keeps his hand on her lower back and when they find a side street, he spreads her across the bench of his truck and buries his cock deep inside her. 

~

“Javi, your dad’s on the phone.”

He walks out of the shower with his hair still damp and shakes it over her when he meets her at the table. She yelps, smacking him on the shoulder. He just gets onto his knees so he’s at eye-level with her tits, on display in her unbuttoned blouse, and she has to grab hold of his hair to keep him away from them. 

“No, Chucho, he’s just got out of the shower. Of course he wants to talk to you!” She grins into the receiver. “No, he hasn’t done it yet. Of course I’m going to say yes; él es el amor de mi vida.” She looks down at him and winks. “I’ll put him on for you.”

He sits his ass on the floor so he can rest his cheek on her inner thigh, happily sandwiched between her legs and deliciously close to her lacy panties. “Hi, Pop,” he says, grabbing a cigarette off the table while he wedges the phone between his ear and her thigh, close to purring with the way she brushes through his hair with her fingers.

“Tu amor sounds more and more beautiful every time I talk to her,” says Chucho. “It’s a shame I barely know what she looks like.”

His father has been pressing Javier like an embosser on paper to take a break, visit him in Laredo. He wants to meet his future daughter-in-law so badly he keeps saying it’ll kill him. Javier lights his cigarette. “Pop—”

“There's plenty of room on the ranch,” he cuts in. “I’ve got the guest room made up.”

Javier lazily meets his girl’s eye. Guest room, he mouths. She bites down on her lip and shimmies a bit, her tits shaking against the silk of her shirt. He elects not to look away. “Yeah, Pop,” he says vaguely. “We're gonna visit. Make a vacation out of it.”

She leans down to speak into the receiver. “Make sure you put him to work, Mr. Peña.”

Javier’s too busy taking the opportunity to take a nipple between his teeth to retort. She huffs, smacking him gently upside the head. “Why do you think I invite him?” says Chucho. 

Javier asks about the calves and the crops (all thriving), and he asks how Chucho’s back is doing (about the same; back problems run in the family). She stands to make dinner while they're chatting about Laredo (the sheriff’s department's latest drug bust, the gossip about Chucho’s next-door neighbour a mile down the road and his latest affair). Javier follows her into the kitchen like a puppy, tucking the phone between his cheek and shoulder while he chops tomatoes. He’ll hand the phone to her when his father wants to talk to her, which is most of the time. 

What's for dinner, mija? How’s your mother doing? Do you know how to milk a cow?

Javier smiles. They've been making friends with one another since the first time Chucho asked him to put her on the phone. She’s it for me, Pop. 

Gonna give me grandkids?

He’ll just laugh and say, Talk to you next week. 

It's not that they haven't talked about it. They have—at length. But if they're going to try, it won't be while he's working against the most dangerous people in Colombia. 

When he sets down the phone, she slides her hand across his stomach. “That shirt,” she mutters. 

He looks down at her, lifting his brow. “This shirt,” he prompts. 

She slides her other hand up his arm, a ghost of a touch, and it's enough to send blood to his interested cock. It doesn't take much from her. “So sexy,” she hums, fisting the yellow polo by the collar. 

She has a unique appreciation for his wardrobe. Always says he's stuck in the ‘70s, that he owns one too many loud patterns for his own good, that he sticks out in his tight jeans. But Christ, she likes it. “Sure it's not the body, baby?” he asks, low and deep, abandoning the cutting board to slide his hands beneath her silk blouse and pull her mostly naked body to him. “Worked hard for it. Running over rooftops all day.”

“Oh, it's the body, all right.” She lifts up the hem of his shirt. “You’re so handsome. So strong. All mine.”

He's putty in her hands when she tells him he's handsome. She can shower him with affection and words and he'll melt, butter, pliable as she has her way with him. He likes it: knowing she sees him as strong, good, capable. Sees him as someone she wants to bee seen with all the time. 

And right now, she needs it. He's more than willing to give. She's hands and lips, feverish in the way she pulls his shirt up over his head and shucks her own blouse off. He has to brace his hands on the counter just so he doesn't keel over from the blood leaving his brain when she begins to kiss, lick, nibble all over. From his neck to his chest, all the way down to his stomach until she’s licking his aching hardness over his jeans. “Fuck,” he hisses, slamming his palm down on the countertop. He won't guide her. He wants her to take him the way she wants. But even like this, he's leaking, making a mess of himself. He goes white-blind for a moment when she takes his zipper between her teeth and tugs it down. 

“Jesus,” he groans to himself. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

He tries not to let his eyes cross. He really does. But she takes him into her wet, hot mouth after shucking his pants down his thighs like they owe her money. And he chokes on his own tongue with how fucking good it feels, his hips stuttering and his hands white-knuckling the counter. 

She slides her tongue around his head while she takes him down to her throat, licking along his veins and swallowing around his length. She sucks his cock as if she needs it to survive, and he just might die. 

Her hands caress his thighs as she moans around him, and then they migrate to his balls, reaching around to squeeze his ass just because she loves to, because she knows he’ll let her do anything when he’s this far gone. His head is fuzzy and he can't form a sentence; he just curses and says her name and curses some more. She keeps her eyes on him so he keeps his on her, and they become the only two people in the world. 

His hearing comes back in a rush, like emerging from underwater, when she takes him down to the base, her nose brushing the hairs at the base of his cock, and chokes in her excitement to swallow, to make him feel good. 

The word good isn't in his vocabulary when it comes to this. This is ecstasy. Javier shuts his eyes and even stumbles a little when he comes. She holds onto his thighs, keeping her mouth locked around him as he spurts every drop of his cum inside her. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Mmmhmm,” she groans, eyes watery, mascara dribbling black tears down her cheeks. He reaches out to tangle his fingers in her hair just to hold onto something so he doesn't fall over. He just keeps coming until her cheeks expand and she pulls off; the last of his cum drips out onto her bruised lips. 

He wants to drop to his knees and propose right then and there when she opens her mouth to show the mess he made of her mouth, clearly awaiting his instructions. He collects himself enough to do two things: firstly, he remembers he cannot propose to her while her mouth is full of cum; second, he croaks out a barely-audible “Swallow.” She does. 

“Fucking…” He squeezes his eyes shut and opens them again, hoping to clear his vision. “Fucking… baby, I—”

She shakes her head and kisses his softening cock gently. It makes him twitch, but he's too spent to go again. “I know,” she says, her voice a bit raspy and ruined. She leans her head against his thigh and sighs happily.

He helps her to her feet, tucks himself back into his jeans, and kisses her hard. He pants against her cheek when he's done nibbling at her lips. “What did I do to deserve that?”

“So handsome,” she whispers, like it's a sufficient answer for her. “Just love you so much.”

“You're so”—he kisses a path along her cheek to her jaw—“fucking”—he bites down on the curve of her throat—“good to me. So good to me. Fuckin’ love you, mi alma.”

Usually, she's a giggling mess when he bites her like this. Mi vampiro, she'll say, indulging him with a hand at the back of his head. Now, she moans, body curving up against him. “Javi,” she breathes out. “Want you to watch me.”

“Shit. Shit, honey, is it my fuckin’ birthday?” He slips his hand around her waist, but she pulls back and smiles wickedly. 

“You can't touch.”

And there's the kicker.

He pouts down at her, and she presses her fingers to his lips before she slides them down her body, sweet and slow. It's rare they make dinner on time during nights like these. Tonight is no exception. 

~

When Javier proposes, it's private. 

He does it in their apartment because she doesn't like spectacles. Neither does he. It's just for them: the dinner he cooks, three courses he only knows how to perfect by being with her; the lilies he bought in bulk just to spread them around the place because she loves them so much; the way he tells her to close her eyes and she does, even though she's got a giddy grin on her face and knows what he's up to. 

She opens them and begins to cry nonetheless, seeing him on one knee at her feet. 

From the moment he walked into the café, he fell in love with her. He gained a friend and a partner in that little window of time that was only for them. He trusted her before he trusted himself. He feels like a teenager when he's with her, so excited to be in her company and giddy with the simplest touch; and he feels more like an adult than he ever has, knowing she’s the most important part of his life and he needs to cherish her, protect her. He loves her smile and her laugh. Her voice. Her eyes. Her kindness and her patience. Her smart mouth. The way she knows him long before he's figured it out himself. The way she can calm the storm in him with a whisper and a touch. He's difficult and grumpy, and she chooses him every time. He loves her so much it hurts. 

He tells her all of this. And then he asks her if she'll marry him, since it's customary. Even though they’ve been organising their documents and ensuring everything is in order for months, he still asks. She deserves to hear him ask.

She says yes. 

~

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#kiwisbell's fics #las mañanas #javier peña #javier peña smut #javier peña fic #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #narcos #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction

[mrs-kmikaelson]

01| The Tribrid

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x daughter!reader, Marcel Gerard x reader (platonic) Summary: While you're away on an impromptu break, Marcel comes to try and get you to come back to help him face the Mikaelsons who just so happen to be your long lost family (but no else knows that). Warnings: none Words: 3.2K

Masterlist | Part 2

a/n: i guess this kinda fits in with season one, but it's more of an AU than anything. so, it has elements of the s1 plot, like the marcel and klaus feud, the hope plot, but the villains from s1 won't really be present. like i said, AU. but without further adieu, on we go.

New Orleans was a land of plastic beads and festivals for days–a tourist attraction, which basically meant a blood bank. I knew what lurked in the shadows, what whispered through the grapevine behind the music, but Originals... I didn't know they were back.

Word travels fast around the Quarter, but I haven't been there; I was in Mystic Falls, too busy following up on a lead about the Mikaelsons to even realize that they were at the place I started, my home. 

Marcel wouldn't stop talking about it. As soon as I got back, I was flooded with information and, as soon as I got back, I could hear the whispers from a mile away. Most reactions to the arrival of such a family were scared, livid, shocked, but I was none of the above.

I didn't have a thing to say back to Marcel, not a thing to say to the people who were suddenly confusing me with Rebekah Mikaelson. I didn't have an inch of emotion about it, not surprise, not fear. I mean, how could anyone be surprised? How could I be surprised, scared?

How could I be surprised by my own family?

"Klaus needs to learn his place." I internally rolled my eyes at Marcel's, basically, monologue, continuing to sift through pages of the magazine in my hands. "He's outta line." 

Klaus Mikaelson was always out of line– he had no line, no boundaries. He was Klaus Mikaelson and that was the only line there was, but I didn't say that. When Marcel was having one of his tantrums, I learned to just listen to him; interrupting or putting my own two cents in just made the conversation longer and I only wanted it to end. 

"He thinks he can just kick me out of the Quarter, out of my home, the bastard. Who does he think he is?" Rhetorical question, I had to remind myself, holding my tongue. The former king of New Orleans was sitting across from me at a coffee shop in New York. A coffee shop.

He was calling this his 'vacation' but we both knew that the only reason he was here was because boss man told him to leave. Honestly, I don't know why I'm here. I'm supposed to be in a university class, but it doesn't really matter if I can just compel the grade, right?

I was doing psych this time; Cami's always saying all these things to me about how she thinks my brain works and I honestly want to learn how it does. Saying I have a PhD might actually get me a significant other, but, knowing myself, the whole triangle of creatures thing might freak them out. 

At least I haven't gone as low as Marcel.

"Y'know, just because that ass is an Original doesn't mean he's suddenly the shit." 

This time, I didn't bother trying to hide the roll of my eyes, continuing to flip through my magazine as I responded. "Uh... it kinda does." I could feel his glare on my forehead as my eyes widened at Kim K's ass. Not even being a Vampire gives you that- "And, Marcel, I don't know if you've realized it yet, but he isn't just an Original."

I looked up at him for the first time since his rant started and gave him a pointed look. Sometimes, he didn't think with his head. 

Marcel shrugged like he was saying, 'so what' silently. "Tyler what's-his-name is a hybrid, too."

I raised a brow at him. "A hybrid turned by Klaus, and wasn't he the guy who tried to kill Klaus' wife or whatever, inadvertently but intentionally trying to kill himself, and then failed?" 

"Not the point, Y/N/N." The fuck it isn't- "The point is that the man is such a dick because his is so small." Gross. Didn't need to hear that.

"Didn't he adopt you or something?"

"Is that all you're getting from what I'm saying?"

I made a face at him, putting my magazine down on the table. "Can I be honest and say I don't get anything from this conversation?"

He deadpanned, "You're annoying."

"Glad you're just now figuring that out, Cellie." I got up from my seat, patting him on his back. "Please, though, go have this talk with Camille instead."

I started walking away, but Marcel only got up and began following me out, making me hold in a groan. God, men, they can never take a damn hint.

"Hey, where you headed?" He asked, but he dismissed his own question just as quick as I would've. "And aren't you supposed to talk to me and help me figure out my problems? You're studying psych, aren't you?"

I scoffed, "Yeah, people usually pay for a psychiatrist to talk to them." Honestly, I don't know why Marcel was here. With a God complex like his, you'd expect him to stay and, y'know, get himself killed. It's not like him to use his brain so suddenly.

He could've gone to damn Vegas, maybe LA, but he just has to come to where I am, right after I leave. He's getting a break from his 'Kingly' duties; Klaus is taking that off his hands, so why isn't he enjoying it and taking an actual vacation instead of visiting me and calling it a holiday? I'm not the Eiffel Tower, for Pete's sake.

It's a power struggle. People like him, came from the bottom and wanted nothing more than to be at the top, fighting against people like Originals, who had been where my friend wanted to be since the beginning of time. 

Marcel didn't want to admit he was playing a losing game.

"You telling me to go home, Y/L/N?"

I rolled my eyes. What gave it away? "Precisely, Gerard."

I was just about to make it to my car when Marcel sped in front of me. I looked up at the sky and pinched my eyes. God, he was insufferable. Honestly, it shouldn't have surprised me that he came all this way just to bitch. But what he said next did surprise me.

"Come back with me, then."

My eyes snapped open and I stared at him incredulously. What the fuck.

I rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn't hallucinating and Cellie slapped my arm. "C'mon, Y/N/N. It'll be funnnnnnnnn." The way he dragged out the word did not convince me in the slightest.

I got over my shock and voiced my thoughts. "You want me to come back because you think drama with the Mikaelsons is- fun?"

He was quick with his response. "It could be." He then snorted. "Hell, I'd love to see Klaus' reaction to a girl like you, stronger than him-" I cut him off with my magic, his lips slamming shut immediately. It was only a temporary thing, just stops a person from speaking for a second, so he'd be able to continue right after, but he got the point and shut up.

I've known Marcel for close to fifty years. Met him in the seventies. He tried to kill me and I knocked him off his feet with a classic telekinesis spell. Since then, he's known about who I am and he's also decided that he's better off having me on his team. Whatever the hell that means.

I usually like to keep the whole tribrid thing under wraps, hence why I got Marcel to stop talking.

I gave him a look. "Klaus wouldn't have any reaction what I am, because he wouldn't know." Apparently, my gaze conveyed my message well enough because Marcel raised his hands in surrender. 

"Okay, okay," he conceded. "No one's gotta know. But you should come back anyway."

I can't say I haven't thought about it. I know I can't stay out in New York forever. 

I rolled my eyes. I can't believe I'm actually giving thought to something Marcel says. "Okay, gimme time and I'll think about it."

He grinned and pointed finger guns at me, walking backwards away from me. "Think it over and we'll talk about it tomorrow." He turned around and walked away with a kick in his step before he disappeared completely, moving too fast for the human eye to detect.

I sighed and shook my head, the smallest of smiles growing on my face. Ah, Marcel. 

I pulled out my keys, walking to my car and thinking about what he asked. 

It's sorta odd, I suppose. Considering how long I've been watching the Mikaelsons, you'd think I'd be the first one there in New Orleans, keeping tabs on them, but the only way I knew about their escapades was from Marcel who told me voluntarily.

That was one thing he didn't know about me; no one did. No one knew about my connection to the Mikaelsons, not even the Mikaelsons themselves, which is partially why I don't wanna go back to NOLA just yet.

My apartment's in the Quarter, way too close to the Abbatoir and, according to Marcel, that's now Original HQ. It's too risky, my rational side said.

Yet, the other part of me that spent almost my entire life tracking them, being infatuated with them, thinks that being so close to them would be favourable. 

And, like most times, the irrational part of my brain wins the battle in decision-making.

Fuck. Marcel's gonna have to buy me a lot of alcohol for this one.

Walking through the quarter again is like that human expression 'like riding a bike.' I've obviously never ridden a bike, but I get what the expression is meant to say. It's referring to doing something that comes naturally to you.

That's what this is.

Marcel is beside me as we walk past both all the tourists and locals. It's easy to tell the difference between the two. I compelled movers earlier to unload all my stuff back into my apartment so I have nothing to worry about other than getting reacquainted with my city.

The path we took eventually led us to Rousseau's and as soon as we entered my eyes scanned the bar for Cami, who I know for a fact Marcel is obsessed with. But she's way too good for him.

I went and sat down at the bar and waited for her to come our way. She wasn't paying much attention when she came over, wiping down some glasses. "Hey, what can I getcha?"

"The usual." Her head shot up when she heard me and a smile broke out on her face. "Y/N/N?" She put down what she was holding and came around the counter, embracing me in a hug. "Oh my God, I thought you were gonna be stuck in the big apple for a while still."

I chuckled. "Yeah, well Marcel happened to- no, nevermind, Marcel just happened." She let out a laugh and went back around the counter, greeting Marcel and getting to work on our drinks.

"Well, I'm glad you're back," she said.

Marcel inserted himself into the conversation and I tuned them out after that, letting the two of them flirt. Cami probably didn't define it as flirting, but she definitely was.

I think she liked Marcel, but she was in denial about it. I get why though. She didn't wanna fall for a guy that was bad news and she had doubts about him, reasonable doubts.

But beyond the vampirism and ego, I knew Marcel would treat her right. That's why I got up from my seat straight after downing my drink, catching their attention. 

"Hey, I'm gonna head out, It's getting late anyways and I still have to unpack." Marcel rose a brow at me, knowing I didn't have to unpack shit, but he should be grateful. I'm basically cupid and I'm shooting them both right now.

Cami gave a little sigh. "You just got here, though-"

"I'll be back tomorrow morning, promise!" I smiled at her for emphasis and she untensed and reciprocated the action.

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow then." Her and Cellie both waved bye to me and I walked out the door. God, I was just itching to get out of there. The tension between them was suffocating me. 

I put my hands into my pockets and glanced at the sky that had darkened significantly from when Marcel and I entered the bar. I guess we were there for longer than I thought.

There weren't really any tourists left walking around, only a few people that actually lived in the area. No vampires were allowed to fuck with the locals and, besides, most of the locals were witches, anyways. 

Even humans like Cami should be safe walking through the Quarter at night, but even then, if you didn't know about the supernatural while living in NOLA then you were in a whole other kind of danger. Knowledge is power.

Even if you were a witch, that was still risky. And if you were a werewolf, then forget it. Vampires were the only people without fear nowadays, it seemed.

Luckily, or unfortunately, I was all three creatures. 

"Back off," My ears picked up the sound of a girl growling. My eyes hadn't found her yet, but my nose worked faster. Werewolf.

Whoever she was talking to seemed to have that ability as well and murmured, "You're a werewolf." He was shaken but then he laughed, "Oh, I'm gonna have fun with you." Vampire.

Damnit, my first day back in the Quarter and, already, I'm dealing with the remnants of drama caused by Marcel. I sighed, thinking it's none of my damn business. But I could hear the sound of that girl's heart pitter pattering and I knew I couldn't just ignore it.

Motherfucker.  

I rolled my eyes and strained my ears a little more to guide me to where they were, my senses leading me to an alleyway where the wolf girl and the vampire stood. His back was facing me so he couldn't see me, but the girl caught my gaze and her eyes widened.

The vampire's head cocked. "What are you looking at?" Just as he turned to face me, I ran up to him and snapped his neck. His body fell to the floor with an ungraceful thump and I pushed a lock of hair away from my face, looking up to the girl who wore an expression of shock.

I had a sarcastic comment in my head that I felt like saying, but honestly, I just wanted to go home so I pushed it to the side and gave her a serious look. "You shouldn't walk all alone in the Quarter at night. It can be dangerous."

She shook off her surprise and stood taller, scoffing, "I can handle myself." Oh, for sure, I thought. This time, I was gonna speak my thoughts, but a heartbeat caught me by surprise. I held back a stagger and looked down to her stomach where the little thumping was coming from. 

A pregnant werewolf.

My stare remained on her stomach as I cautioned, "You really shouldn't be out in the Quarter on your own. Especially if you're pregnant." I looked back up to her when her arms quickly wrapped themselves around her stomach. 

She was a little more reserved now, stepping away from me a little and saying, "Trust me, I've got people looking out for me."

I snorted. "And where are they?"

She didn't reply, instead she only wrapped her arms around herself tighter. I get it; werewolves oughta be careful with vampires in this city and she thinks I'm a vampire- or just a vampire, rather. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and waved it. "I'll call the baby's father now and he'll come get me." She kept staring at me for a few more seconds before adding, "So thank you, really, but I'll be fine now." Translation: please go away. 

I nodded at her and turned around as she began dialling. I wanted to get home anyway and I didn't need to stick around to see any baby daddy drama. Since that girl was a werewolf, baby daddy was probably some form of supernatural and therefore huge ego. Entertaining, but could get annoying.

I continued back on the route to my apartment per usual, passing by a few people and a few other neighbours I waved to. I knew all the locals, and I know for a fact girl doesn't live in the Quarter for two reasons. One, I don't know her, and two, werewolves aren't exactly welcome in the Quarter.

Of course, I'm a werewolf too, but no one knows that.

Knowing that werewolves aren't welcome here makes me wonder if she knew that, makes me wonder why she's here in the first place but as soon as my mind starts wandering, I steer myself back, reminding myself it really is none of my business. 

I'll probably never see her again, anyway.

Sooner than not, I make it to my townhouse. Just before I'm about to go up the steps to the door, I stop and turn to the side, staring out at all the other houses and little shops. If I walked a little further, I'd make it to the compound that was no longer Marcel's territory.

If I walked a little further, the Mikaelsons would be right there. And should they ever walk this way, they might just see me.

I shook my head and walked up the steps, opening my door. 

The Mikaelsons are a problem for another day. Right now, I'm going to bed.

When I wake up the next day, it's noon and someone is calling me. I picked up the phone without checking the caller ID, knowing who it was anyway. "Yes, Marcel?" I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand and turned over so the sun wasn't fucking my eyeballs.

"Ooh, you sound happy to hear my voice."

"Just elated, Cellie." I stuck my head into my pillow and grumbled, "Elated."

Marcel snickered. "Well, good because we have a party to go to."

My head moves up from the pillow. "What?" Marcel threw parties all the time, but since he lost his power, he didn't have anywhere to throw one.

"It's a Mikaelson bash." My breath got caught in my throat at the mention of the name, but Marel didn't notice, continuing on with bitterness in his voice. "It's to show the city who's in charge now."

I quickly got over the Mikaelson name drop like usual and probed, "But aren't you supposed to be banished from the Quarter?" I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. "Going to that thing just sounds like a recipe for disaster."

"Sure, you could view it like that, but Klaus won't try anything while we're there."

"And why's that?"

"Because the party's supposed to be a symbol for peace, too. We'll be fine. Plus, I need a date."

I held back a snort. "What, Cami's busy?"

"She's working the bar tonight," he replied. "So you've gotta come with me."

I felt a sigh coming on. For fuck's sake, I just got back. I wasn't expecting this to happen yet.

I was gonna contemplate for a while longer but Marcel didn't give me that time. Instead, he just quickly told me he'd be picking me up at 8 and hung on me, making me gasp.

Son of a bitch.

#klaus x reader #klaus x daughter!reader #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x reader #the originals #tvd #tvdu #tvd fandom #angsty imagine #camille o'connell

[hitomisuzuya]

hiii suzuu could i have some yn scara coffee shop au fluff?

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Fluff. AU. Scara with a smooth pick up line at the end. Some humor.

Hello, dear❤️ Sorry it took me awhile to get to this. I wanted to think of something really cute. I know you guys don't fancy my fluff or romance as much as my smut but I wanna show I am not a one trick pony.

At first, Scaramouche had only stopped in to get a coffee. Get in, order, pay, and get out. That was a plan, anyways. Until he saw you.

When he first walked in, there you were, standing there looking all beautiful as you smiled at him in what he started hoping wasn't an obligatory smile in greeting.

"Scaramouche. What a unique name," You said when you asked what name to put on his cup. You wrote with a marker on the cup. "Spelt like this, right?" You showed him the cup with his name spelt correctly in blocky but somehow elegant handwriting.

No one had ever taken the time or consideration to ask him if his name was spelt right. Were you some kind of subhuman or something?

Scaramouche left that day not having the nerve to ask you for your phone number. Fast forward to this point a few months later. He still hadn't gotten the nerve to ask for your number.

You know what they say about pretty girls? They were intimidating to approach because they were pretty.

Yeah, that was you.

Scaramouche always made it a point to ask you what days you worked so he could come and see you. He would spend his time making idle conversation with you about music or anything when there was a lull in customers, or when you were doing cleaning, or had a spare minute.

And ordering a lot of coffee.

He started picking random mixes, and it become something of a game for both of you. Especially when you started sampling his concoctions with him.

Scaramouche watched you at the counter, handing someone their order. This guy had been coming in quite often, just like he was. He knew what he was after.

He couldn't sit still any longer when the guy lingered by the counter. He needed insert himself into this situation before it was too late.

But, Scaramouche had something working against him. You did that thing where you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear when you smiled. That distracted Scaramouche from seeing that his shoe lace was untied.

Because fate loved him so much, he stepped on his shoelace, tumbling right to the ground. He let out a loud volley of curses.

You rushed out from behind the counter. "Are you okay?" You asked, kneeling down in front of him. You put your hands on his cheeks. "Did you hit your head? Look at me."

Scaramouche's cheeks flushed, gently batting your hands away. "I'm fine," He said gruffly, his pride heavily dented. His breath was stolen from his lungs when he looked into your eyes.

You sighed in relief. "That's good," You offered him your hand. He almost didn't take it out of pride, but that would give him a excuse to actually touch you in some way.

He could barely look at you as he got to his feet. He could smell your perfume. "Wait," He said when you turned to go back to the counter.

"Hm? Are you feeling dizzy?" You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.

Scaramouche shook his head, his cheeks flushing darker. "I'll need your phone number so you can come check on me later," He said, feeling his heart speed up in his chest. He'd finally done it.

His heart dropped when you smiled at him, and walked back to the counter without a word. Were you turning him down? What was going through your head?

You went about making a coffee, making sure it was black like he normally liked it. You wrote what he assumed was his name on the label.

A pity coffee?

"Here, it's on me," You said, handing him the coffee cup. However, his name wasn't on the label. Instead, there was a little heart colored in with purple marker, and your phone number under it.

Your cheeks had the cutest blush on them.

#genshin impact #fem!reader #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin romance #genshin humor #scaramouche #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you

[the-likesofus]

ring the bells

9-1-1 on Fox | Buddie | 5k words | Coffee Shop AU | alternative first meeting, fluff, getting together, first kiss, meet-cute

Written for @ronordmann's Reverse Prompt Challenge. Thank you so much Ro for inspiring me to try writing something out of my comfort zone with this fic &lt;3

"Order for Evan!" 

If ever Buck was to die of happiness it would be in this moment. For hours he has been craving, yearning for some sort of hot, sugary drink. It started with a call to a chocolate factory and ended with an empty milk carton in the firehouse refrigerator and an apologetic look on Chimney's face. 

As soon as Buck got off his forty-eight-hour shift he had made a beeline for the nearest cafe. It was not his usual, he would typically stop at the coffee shop closer to his apartment on his way to work, but this place wasn't busy and Buck is desperate for a sugar hit.

It's because he's so desperate that Buck is taking the first mouthful as he's walking out of the store. 

He anticipates the smooth cream and sweet syrup, the spice of cinnamon to balance it all out but the mouthful slides over his tongue like hot, bitter tar and lands in the bottom of his stomach like a rock. 

"God–what the?" He sticks his tongue out and tries to rid his mouth of the taste. That is definitely not the coffee that he ordered. 

For a brief moment, Buck considers that maybe the universe just knew that he actually wanted black coffee but then decides that that's stupid and the universe is wrong this time because he definitely really wanted the drink he thought he ordered. 

So, against every ex-hospitality worker fiber of his being, he turns back to the counter and gets the attention of the barista that served him 'his' drink. 

"Hi there," he starts as brightly as he can for seven o’clock in the morning. "I'm so sorry to do this but I think you've given me the wrong drink. I ordered a caramel latte with cinnamon but this is, well, black."

"Oh!" The barista looks shocked for a second as he checks the order dockets on the counter in front of her. "I'm so sorry, I must have–."

"Given him mine." An unfamiliar voice sounds from next to Buck and when he turns he finds what is potentially the most beautiful man in all of the greater Los Angeles area. 

The barista nods. "Yes, I'm so sorry. I will remake them both right away."

The man eyes Buck's outstretched hand oddly before saying, "No need." He looks at Buck and Buck's sleep-deprived brain almost gets lost in the chocolate of his eyes. "Do you have any diseases I should know about?"

Buck stops short. "I'm–. What?" 

"Diseases." The man says—like that it is a normal thing to ask a stranger. "Are you contagious or anything? I'm in a rush."

"Ah, no. I don't think so."

"Good. I'll just take this one then." And then he reaches for the coffee that is not Buck's coffee but is in Buck's hand and Buck is too baffled to do anything but let him take it. The man disappears from the cafe and Buck is left standing at the counter with his arm still outstretched towards the barista who looks just as confused but shakes herself out of it faster than Buck does.

"I'll remake yours now." He says briskly. "Won't be a minute."

"Ah, yeah. Thanks." Buck mumbles dumbly and turns to see the man's retreating back disappear around the corner. 

The barista hands him a new cup a few moments later along with a five-dollar bill, obviously intending to refund him for the mistake, but he tucks it straight into her tip jar, thank you kindly, and then leaves, the bell ringing behind him as he goes.

Continue on AO3

#buddie #buddie fic #reverse prompt challenge #round 5 #meegs writes stuff #coffee shop au #911 fox #911 abc #911fic #911 fic #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #911 on fox #eddie x buck #buck x eddie #911 on abc

[wh0iskyra0]

The coffee shop

Teen!Gojo x black fem teen!reader

Pt.1 Meeting

W.C- 686

A/N- Their ages will change throughout the series(if i make it a series). This is also a modern AU (no curses.)

Codes- (f/f) =former friend

(Name) was a hardworking high school student whose always trying their best with work they are given and their job.

.

.

.

. 

(name pov)

I walked through the door of my apartment that I shared with a former “friend” to hear her getting her back blown out again this week. I threw my bag on the floor and threw myself on the couch. “I'm getting tired of this shit” I say rolling to look at the tv. The sounds of moans and groans coming from her room where pissing me even more, I sit up and walk over to her door and banged on the door “(f/f), IM TIRED OF YOU GETTING YOUR FUCKING BACK BLOWN OUT!” I said. I heard the bed stop its annoying squeaking and a few whispers then her door opened. “Look, (name) my bad I'm actually getting something, and you just you know…you” she said while looking me up and down I looked at her and walked away she closed her door. I walked over to the couch and lay down and started to drift to sleep.

The next morning

I sat up from where I was sleeping “Hey (name) I'm sorry about last night, also I have a MASSIVE headache. Do you have any tylenol?” she said, propping herself on the counter I just looked at her and rolled my eyes, I got up and walked to my room to grab the tylenol. After I changed into something more comfortable I grabbed my bag.I walked out of my room and to the living/kitchen area “Here.” I said throwing her the bottle. “I'm going out, I'll be back in a few hours.” I said opening the door, she looked at me with a grin. “i swear if i come back and some rando is blowing your back out aging im kicking you the fuck out.” I said before closing the door and walking out.

I walked out of the apartment and made my way to the cafe down the street. “Hi, welcome to Area Coffee, how may I take your order?” the waiter said with a huge kind smile on her face. After I ordered, I walked over to a table right by the window. After a few minutes the waitress brought me my order. I smiled at her and continued my work. After a few 20 minutes the door swung open and this loud voice started talking “SHOKO!!” The person said loudly ,that I looked up from my computer and saw a white haired male standing at the cash register with a wide smile on his face. The female who had given me my order was rolling her eyes at the male, after they talked he gave her his order.

I continued working until the male walked over to the table I was sitting at. “Can I help?” I said not trying to sound rude “can I sit here?” the male asked me and I nodded and continued working. After a few minutes of awkward silence he finally spoke up “My name is Gojo satoru, what's yours? He said before taking a sip of his drink. “ My name is (name), nice to meet you satoru.”“If you don't mind me asking, What school do you go to?” He asked, “Tokyo-Inter High.” I said while still doing my work, he hummed in response “I go to kokugakuin high” He said smiling at me, I smiled back and continued my work.

As he made small talk I began to grow comfortable with hearing him talk. I looked at the time and noticed how late it was getting. “Hey, it's getting quite late, i'm going to head home.” I said while packing my things “Hey wait do you have instagram or anything?” He said while tilting his head to the side, I wrote my insta on a piece of paper and handed it to him with a smile he smiled back at me. I threw my trash out as I walked out the door. 

Once I made it home I got a notification from instagram:

-Th3r3alG0j0sat0ur has requested to follow u-

#x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jjk shoko #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #modern au #jjk modern au #poc reader #poc writer #black reader #gojo x black reader

[the-boy-meets-evil]

coffee dates & soulmates (myg)

pairing: min yoongi x f. reader genre: coffee shop!au, slice of life | fluff rating: general warnings: none, this is just fluff really word count: ~3.1k summary: you appreciate your routine, don't really like changes. and then you see him sitting in the corner of your favorite coffee shop. a/n: this is for the lovely @bluewhale52 written for the @bangtansecretsanta exchange ❤️ hi mei! i was your secret santa and it was so fun to get to know you. i wanted to have this posted a few days ago but it ended up a little longer than i expected. i hope you enjoy it! thank you: to the always amazing indigo for creating both the banner and my divider. love you lots! @classicscreations

It was early summer the first time you noticed him. 

You walked into your favorite coffee shop, a complete necessity to be able to function without being grumpy, and noticed him sitting in the corner. Despite the temperature outside, he had a sweater on as he stared intently at his computer, oversized headphones covering his ears. His long, slightly curly black hair fell around his face and he just left it there. There was a barely touched coffee sitting next to his computer, beads of water dripping down the sides. 

It’s not like you made a habit of cataloging everyone in the coffee shop, it was just that you had your routine. It was also a local place so there weren’t new faces all that often. And here this man was, so consumed by whatever he was working on that he didn’t seem to even realize there was a whole world happening around him. Didn’t notice the screaming child who’s mom came in three times a week. Didn’t notice the teenager who came in on FaceTime with someone like it was his own personal space and everyone wanted to hear his conversation. Didn’t hear the two women loudly cackling in one corner. Didn’t hear the person listening to music without headphones like everyone wanted to hear. 

It was kind of impressive, actually. You wondered if the entire world could be on fire and he would continue working on his computer. You were kind of envious, too, because you would give everything to have that kind of focus on anything. 

As soon as you had your coffee, you were out the door. But not without a last look at the new face. Idly, you wondered if you’d see him again.

You did. In fact, he seemed to be just as much a creature of habit as you were. You got used to seeing him there. Always there before you, always working intently on his computer, always ignoring his drink. 

Since he became a part of your routine, even though you never spoke, you did what you did with every other person you came across. You guessed what kind of work he might do, what he liked to do in his free time, what he listened to while he worked. There was a comfort in it. He was always so calm, so undeterred by the flow of people around him. 

Until one day, in the fall, he wasn’t there. His normal table sat empty. You realized that you actually enjoyed this mystery man that you knew nothing about. This man you’d never spoken to had become a part of your days.

“What’s wrong?” 

Your friend Taehyung was with you, another departure from your normal routine, but he’d been complaining about the coffee at his normal place for weeks. So you suggested he try this place. 

“Nothing,” you answered, shaking your head. 

“Where’s that guy you’ve been talking about?” Taehyung asked, looking around curiously. You swatted at him in response.

“Not here,” you said quietly.

Taehyung gave you a knowing look that you hated immediately. “Ah, is that why your face looks like that?” 

“What’s wrong with my face?” You wanted to be offended, but you also knew Taehyung and knew he likely didn’t mean anything by it.

“Just looks like someone kicked your dog, is all,” he shrugged.

“I don’t have a dog,” you responded and he rolled his eyes.

“He must be cute,” Taehyung said.

“He’s just…I’ve never seen anyone with that kind of focus, is all,” you said and approached the counter to order. 

The next time you went back into the coffee shop, headphone computer guy was back at his usual table. It was like nothing had changed. He still didn’t look up, still didn’t break focus, and still didn’t seem like he was drinking his coffee. You smiled, immediately thankful Taehyung wasn’t with you this time.

Taehyung had agreed, the coffee at your place was great, way better than his place. But it was out of his way and he was almost always running late. So you started picking up coffee for the both of you most days. Which was better for you, anyway, because Taehyung would periodically pay for both coffees as a thank you for bringing something drinkable.

The next departure from your routine came after you stopped ordering that extra coffee for Taehyung. He was seeing someone new that had convinced him the best thing to do was make it for himself at home, which had resulted in him spending too much money on something he didn’t really know how to use. Oh well, the things we do for love, right?

You were getting too used to the rest of the routine, too used to being able to look at the stranger that always worked on his laptop. Which is exactly how you noticed the change. You went back to your normal coffee order and he glanced up at you. When he saw you were looking at him, he glanced back down immediately. But you had seen it. Maybe he wasn’t quite so oblivious to his surroundings.

Or maybe it was just wishful thinking and you needed to stop making stories in your own head. He didn’t look up at you the next time you were in or even any of the times the rest of the week. 

And then, about a week later, he actually surprised you. You were taking your card out to pay for the coffee you just ordered when the barista told you that it was covered. 

“What?” Your hand paused in your wallet.

“Yeah, you’re all set,” she said and smiled.

That didn’t exactly clarify anything. “Um, how?”

“Oh, that guy over there on the computer paid for it,” she said and your eyes followed her line of vision despite knowing exactly who she meant.

He wasn’t looking up at you, but you swore you saw the faintest twitch of a smile on his lips. Okay, so that was how this was going to go. You waited by the end of the counter, on the other side of the shop from where he sat. As soon as you had your coffee, you walked over to his table and wondered the whole time if he would even look up.

He did, almost immediately.

“Uh, thanks,” you said, unsure what else you were supposed to say.

“You’re welcome,” he said and smiled.

And it was one of the cutest smiles you’d ever seen, all soft and too big and gummy. Every time you’d seen him before, he looked intense and focused. It was why you never thought he realized what was going on around him. Now, he smiled soft, eyes crinkling as he looked up at you. He pulled his headphones off and closed his laptop.

“Do you want to sit down?”

You did, of course you did. It had been weeks and weeks of made up stories about this man that suddenly paid for your coffee and asked you to sit down. There were a million questions that you wanted to ask. It started with his name, though. Yoongi. Pretty. It almost felt weird after all this time to know his name. And to give him yours in return.

You can’t remember what you talked about that first day, only that you loved to listen to the sound of his voice. Gentle but also deep and gravelly. Animated but also somehow lazy. His voice, like everything else about him, was a study in contrasts that somehow worked perfectly together. 

It was another week of chatting every time you came into the shop (he was always already there at his normal table) before he asked you if you wanted to get dinner sometime. An immediate yes from you. 

And it was probably one of the cutest dates that you had ever been on. In the coffee shop, Yoongi seemed calm and at ease, like he was genuinely comfortable. When you met him for dinner, he seemed nervous. Like he wasn’t sure what he was doing. Which actually made you a lot less nervous. He was beautiful and you felt tongue tied around him more often than not. But now here he was, slightly stumbling over some of his words and not at all at ease. It made you like him a lot more.

You were in trouble.

It was nice because you realized how much you hadn’t learned about him yet even though you felt like you’d known him forever. Although he hadn’t given you a clear answer on his work at the coffee shop, he talked about it freely on that first real date. He wrote music. Everything from songs that he sold to artists to scores for movie soundtracks and everything in between. It seemed like he had worked with some pretty big artists, too. He didn’t think it was a big deal, but you thought it was amazing. You also found out, unsurprisingly given his line of work, that he played several instruments including the piano and the guitar. Piano had been his first love, he talked at length about the piano he had at a studio he worked at when he wasn’t at the coffee shop, and guitar had been something he just picked up while writing songs. Even though he didn’t think he was good, he agreed he’d play for you sometime when you asked. Maybe he wasn’t the only one smiling like an idiot

He also wanted to know everything about you and disagreed when you said it wasn’t nearly as exciting. So you told him about your family, about growing up, about dreams that you still had. Things you usually hesitated to share and would never share on a first date. He interjected to share stories of his own. Easy. It was just easy.

After dinner, he walked you to the door of your building and awkwardly shuffled his feet. Again, like he wasn’t completely sure of himself or what to do. You lingered a second longer and were glad you did when he placed the gentlest kiss on your lips and then told you to have a good night. 

Several more dates went by and you realized that you were actually developing incredibly real feelings for Yoongi faster than you had for anyone else before. It had never been easy like this with anyone else, it had never felt effortless. But everything with Yoongi was as natural as breathing. 

When he asked if you wanted to meet his closest friends, you said yes right away. And the way he smiled said you made the right decision. He offered to cook for you and them, promised he’d rope one of them into helping, and promised all you needed to do was bring a bottle of wine, if you wanted.

You showed up at his apartment right on time, like you always did, but it wasn’t Yoongi that answered the door. Instead, you were greeted by a tall, broad man with almost blond hair. His smile was easy, but in a very different way to Yoongi.

“Hi, you must be the woman we’ve heard so much about,” he said, still smiling and holding the door.

“Well don’t just stand there, Namjoon, invite her in,” called another familiar voice.

“Ah, right, sorry,” he stuttered and stepped aside. 

Your eyes fell on another man, shorter than the one he called Namjoon and slender, but with a smile that could break a thousand hearts. He was on his feet immediately and coming towards you.

“Hi, I’m Hoseok and this is Namjoon,” he said and you relaxed. It was good to put names to faces.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” you said.

“You too! Yoongi hasn’t stopped talking about you in…” Hoseok started before there was a clattering from the kitchen.

“Yah, Hobi, I can hear you,” Yoongi scolded. 

“It’s not like she doesn’t know,” Namjoon added quietly and Yoongi rounded on the taller man.

“Not you too,” Yoongi whined before he turned back to you. “I hope they don’t scare you off.”

And there was a little bit of a truth to it, if his face was anything to go by. But you just smiled and crossed the room to kiss his cheek.

“Not a chance,” you said and held up a bag. “I couldn’t decide what to bring so I brought both.”

“Jin’s gonna be thrilled,” Yoongi said, looking at the bag. “Come on, I’ll introduce you and then leave you to those two.”

“Are they not allowed in the kitchen?” You wondered as you followed Yoongi.

“Hobi is, Joon isn’t,” Yoongi said and didn’t elaborate further. 

As Yoongi said, his friend Seokjin was in the kitchen. He was also strikingly attractive (seriously, what was it with this friend group?), but the most surprising thing was his apron. He also had his hair pushed back off his face as he watched the dishes.

“Ah, you’re here!” Seokjin saw you and greeted you as if you’d known each other for years.

“This is Jin,” Yoongi said, a little unnecessarily but you appreciated it all the same.

“Nice apron,” you commented and earned a loud laugh in response.

“Please don’t,” Yoongi muttered and you weren’t sure who he was talking to.

“I can’t get my dinner clothes dirty while I’m cooking,” Seokjin said.

“We’re staying in,” Yoongi whined and now you realized it hadn’t been you he was talking to.

“And I want to look nice,” he said.

“He brought it with him,” Yoongi told you and Seokjin didn’t look remotely bothered.

Yoongi gave you a peck on the cheek, which earned a joke from Seokjin, and sent you back out to sit with Hoseok and Namjoon. It was probably for the best, though, because if you stayed in the kitchen, you’d want to help and two people were already plenty. It wasn’t that big of a space. 

It was also really nice to get to know Yoongi’s friends, who were just as lovely as you would have guessed. Namjoon, as you discovered, was not allowed in the kitchen because he was a terrible cook. He also was incredibly clumsy. Hoseok was apparently a pretty decent cook, but not as good as Seokjin or Yoongi, which meant that he was keeping Namjoon company as well as keeping him out of trouble. 

You could see that they had all been friends for years, the way they interacted and shared stories. But the best part about meeting them and having dinner was that they all included you in absolutely everything. And aside from a few pokes at Yoongi, who apparently never fell fast like this, they completely accepted you. It might have been silly, but you held your breath until you realized that you passed their test.

After the night had been such a success, you figured your friends were up next. Unsurprisingly, that was just as easy. Taehyung wanted to play the fill-in older brother role for you, but he lasted all of five minutes before he was gushing over how much he loved you two together. He also wanted to tell Yoongi about how you had looked for him every time you came into the coffee shop, which he did after you finished the first bottle of wine. You couldn’t stop him from the embarrassing stories. Which ended up being fine because Yoongi admitted he thought you and Taehyung were dating when you ordered him coffees every time.

Nothing in life was ever this easy for you. No relationship, whether it was a friend or romantic, had ever slotted in this easily. Part of you, the pessimistic side, kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. You were sure that nothing like this lasted for you. But the hopeful part of you wanted to believe that you deserved it.

You weren’t really sure how you had gotten here, it was like one day you were observing this quiet man from afar in a coffee shop and the next, you were getting ready to spend Christmas together. Despite saying that he wasn’t much for the holiday, he had been right there with you in decorating, making sure the lights were up, that there were things up on the wall, that the whole place felt cozy.  And you both had stockings. You had agreed on a limit, yet you had caught him periodically slipping things into your stocking every time he was over. 

“Eggnog is disgusting,” you announced as you sunk onto the couch next to Yoongi.

“Then don’t drink it,” he responded.

“Ridiculous,” you said and he laughed softly at you. “It’s a tradition.”

“We can make new traditions,” Yoongi offered.

“They’re not traditions if they’re new,” you said with a pout.

“They are if we do them every year,” he said and you shot a look at him.

“Still planning to be around next year?” You almost didn’t dare to hope.

Yoongi looked into your eyes, more sure than you had ever seen him. “I’ll be around for as many holidays as you’ll have me.”

It was crazy, the way the butterflies fluttered in your stomach, the way your whole body was on fire. You’d never really believed in love at first sight, still didn’t know if you believed in soulmates, but you also knew that you’d never felt anything like what you felt for Yoongi. When you heard him essentially say that he was also in it for the long haul, your heart was ready to burst. 

“This is crazy, right?” Your voice was small and you couldn’t meet his eyes.

“What?” 

“We’ve only been dating for a couple months and we’re celebrating Christmas together, talking about traditions,” you said to your hands that twisted in your lap.

Yoongi’s long fingers reached out to tilt your chin back up. “It doesn’t feel crazy to me.”

“But we’ve only known each other for such a short time and…” you rambled.

Yoongi shrugged. “Who cares if it’s a short time? Who cares about anyone else’s timeline?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’ve always just been a little worried about everyone else’s opinions,” you said and sighed.

“My friends love you, yours love me. We’re happy and I know I’m not alone in saying I’ve never felt like this before,” Yoongi said and you smiled at him. “I don’t think anything else matters.”

“You’re right,” you agreed. 

“So come here,” he said and opened his arms for you to settle against him. “Now we just have one thing to decide.”

“What’s that?” You tilted your head to look up at him.

“Our first new tradition,” Yoongi said and you smiled again.

If all you did for the rest of your Christmas Eves was cuddle with Yoongi and complain about eggnog, you would be happy.

I hope you enjoyed it!

#bss2022 #bangtan secret santa #btscarnivalnet #kvanity #btswritersclub #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi imagine #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fic #yoongi fluff #bts fics #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #bts scenarios

[roseharpermaxwell]

RWRB FirstPrince Coffee Shop AU Recs

Coffee shops, restaurants, bars, delis, cheese shops - you'll find those recs here. Give the author some love if you find something you like!

talk by @smc-27, @dumbpeachjuice. E, 1.1k. Henry records himself for an audio erotica app.

Alex finds it. And listens.

All the Lonely Starbucks Lovers by @kiwiana-writes. E, 1.5k.

“That floor doesn’t look like it’s very comfortable on your knees, is all.” Henry leans forward, scooping out a piece of brownie that got under the counter, somehow. “I wouldn’t worry about that—my knees are quite used to it, I assure you.” A ringing silence follows this pronouncement, during which Henry focuses very hard on opening a trap door directly into hell with the power of his mind.

Or, five times Henry puts his foot in his mouth in front of his customer crush, and one time he puts his dick in his customer crush's mouth instead doesn't.

black coffee and cinnamon rolls by viciouslyqueer. T, 2.1k. Alex walks into the coffee shop asking for a coffee and cinnamon roll. Henry tells him they don't have cinnamon rolls.

That doesn't stop Alex from coming back, though.

Make it Good by @smc-27. T, 3.7k. TurkeyOnRye is so hot Alex almost dies every time the guy walks in. Same thing every Tuesday. Turkey on rye, bag of chips, and a sparkling water.

“The usual?” Alex asks. TurkeyOnRye smiles at him, nods. “How’s your Tuesday?”

He gets the bread, he reaches for the knife, he tries not to cut his fucking hand off watching TurkeyOnRye push his hair back.

you're all that i need by @rmd-writes. M, 3.9k. “Alex.” Henry leans against the wall behind the counter with his arms folded, wearing a pale blue cable knit sweater with the sleeves pushed up and navy chinos. Alex wishes he wouldn’t because it only emphasises his forearms.

He crosses his own arms in response. “Henry.”

“Are you actually looking for a book?” Henry asks with a sigh. “Or are you just wasting my staff’s time?”

“That staff member is my sister.”

“I’m well aware,” Henry says drily. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re probably wasting her time. Which book are you looking for?”

“Oh.” Alex grimaces slightly. “I’m not actually–” He exhales. “Hunter is in the coffee shop, so I got the fuck out.” 

ask a guy his name first by @coffeecatsme. T, 5.2k. British accent. Blue eyes. Alex doesn’t know how he’s supposed to handle any of that without an ounce of caffeine in his blood.

He gulps. “Name?”

“Henry.”

Alex’s shaky hands make the name look like Hanri, with a heart instead of a dot for the i. He drops a bag of Earl Grey in the cup, filling it halfway with coffee before he realizes his mistake.

The second cup, the name Hanriey scribbled on the side, makes its way to the counter.

Or, 10 times Alex "misspells" Henry's name and 2 times Henry does it. 

Stop, caffeinate, and listen by @clottedcreamfudge. M, 5.3k. The second Alex walked into Henry's coffee shop wearing a shirt that said 'fuck the patriarchy' - which is, he presumes, someone else's, due to the fact that it's a little small on him - he resigned himself to falling completely and hopelessly in love. Alex - jewel-bright and caustic, cinnamon coffee and curls that Henry wants to tangle his fingers in - is quite clearly straight, and Henry's foolish heart doesn't seem to care much for the limitations this puts on their interactions. He's lost, irrevocably, and Alex hasn't the faintest clue.

I Hear It (When I Look at You) by @affectionatelyrs. M, 5.6k. “Anyway,” the man—Alex, a glance at his nametag suggests—continues. “What can I do you for?”

Absolutely anything, Henry thinks. Preferably that thing you mentioned you’ve been practicing with your tongue to start.

Instead, Henry says, “I’d like…the tea,” which isn’t actually much better.

Alex smiles, a patient curve to his lips. Henry shouldn’t have allowed it to dismantle him one bit, given that the next thing he says is, “Do you want it hot?”

So hot, sweetheart. I bet you like it like that, want my breath right up against your—

“Do I want it— What?”

Or, The last thing Henry expects while ordering tea is to come face to face with the man whose dirty voicemail has fueled his fantasies for weeks

Will You Brie Mine? by @cha-melodius. T, 5.7k. Today, as Henry tells him all about the Manchego, Alex tries his best to listen and not fixate on the mole next to the corner of Henry’s mouth or the way his shoulders strain the seams of his white uniform shirt. It’s not a particularly easy task for him, in all honesty.

“Would you care for a sample?” Henry asks, as if Alex has ever said no to him.

“I’d love one,” Alex tells him instead of saying I’d like to sample you.

(Or, Henry sells cheese and Alex is somehow his best customer. It's not really about the cheese.)

One Order of Alex, Please by gaytriforce. T, 6k. Alex is just trying to reach his dreams of being a politician by putting himself through school on a lacrosse scholarship and the lackluster pay from his shitty barista job- but the job does have one upside: his favorite regular, a shy, beautiful, British stranger named Henry.

Bea's Bakes by ronans. NR, 7.2k. Well, here goes nothing, he thinks to himself. It’s the first time he’s had Alex alone in a while so now’s his chance. And if it all goes tits up he could maybe move to Paris and begin a career as a reclusive novelist like he’d always dreamed.

‘I hope I’m not reading this wrong, Alex, but would I be able to get your number?’

He can literally hear Alex’s breath catch as he stares at Henry like a deer in headlights. Scratch moving away forever, Henry may just cringe himself to death.

‘Was I that obvious?’

Or, Henry works in his sister's London bakery when the arrival of the Claremont-Diaz-Hollerans shakes things up in a way he wasn't expecting.

Trials and Tribulations by ronans. NR, 8.9k. ‘Shit.’ Alex looks up. There’s an unbelievably attractive man dripping rain all over the floor and holding a steaming mug of something right next to his table. Alex deduces that he’d come here to hide from the rain, bought himself a drink and only then realised that there were no empty tables to sit at. Cue Alex’s saviour complex.

Or, 5 times Alex’s favourite fic author’s notes don’t make sense and 1 time they absolutely do.

Have One (On Me) by @myheartalivewrites. E, 10k. "Henry moves on to help other patrons, and Alex tries not to stare. He’s beautiful, and graceful as he reaches around for glasses and bottles, and then he picks up a cocktail shaker and Alex has to look away as he sets his biceps to work again, shaking it. It’s distracting."

Alex goes to Shaan’s bar regularly. It’s almost a second home to him. But one day, there’s a new bartender working the bar. He’s hot and Alex is into it except… the guy’s wearing a wedding ring.

i know a place by @indomitable-love. M, 10k. The low light of the bar makes it easy to relax. There's a soft hum of chatter and a steady beat to the music that isn't overwhelming. It's easy; smooth dark wood and strings of multi-coloured lights with posters of pieces of history on the walls – pictures from Stonewall, Harvey Milk sitting on the top of a car riding through San Francisco; a poster of Bowie sits one wall next to Freddie Mercury against exposed brick. It’s comforting, safe. 

He doesn't even realise that the brightly dressed bartender has disappeared and been replaced by someone else until he looks back again to see a small woman with black hair in a plaid shirt. Behind her, the blonde guy, who is no longer looking down at his notebook, but looking right across the bar, at Alex.

wherein Alex is early to meet Nora at a bar that he does not realise is a gay bar and he starts to realise some things.

like snow on the beach (you want me) by coffeecatsme. T, 11k. That’s the thing about The Magical Brew. It only appears to those in need, to those who lift their heads from their work, to those who need just a little bit of magic to turn their lives around. The gate is rusty, the lawn overgrown from disuse, but to the one in need, it looks, perhaps, like the most magical place in the world. Alex wouldn’t exchange that for foot traffic and a few more coins in his pocket.

It’s the promise of helping out those in need that keeps The Magical Brew alive. Yet Alex still couldn’t have predicted just how much his life would change simply from a dimpled smile and blue eyes that brighten only in his presence.

Or, 5 times Alex offers a little magical help to Henry, and 1 time he doesn't have to.

and we danced by rizcriz. T, 15k. And we danced

Out there on that empty hardwood floor

The chairs up and the lights turned way down low

The music played, we held each other close

And we danced

or, Alex and Henry meet in a bar.

Take Your Time by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf. E, 15k. “I have an idea,” Nora pipes up, the siblings turning their collective attention on her as a shower of rainbow glitter drifts to the ground at her feet. “How about you find someone to spend the evening with? Just pick someone who draws you in, whether it’s vibes or looks or whatever, and ask them to be your date tonight.”

“I don’t need a date,” Alex retorts.

“No, but you want one, don’t you? You’re always complaining about being our third wheel. So go find a fourth and make it a whole car,” Nora teases, squeezing Alex’s cheek. He swats her hand away and throws up his middle finger. “I’m not asking you to pick out wedding rings. Just find a hot stranger in a mask to grind on for the night.” OR

Law student Alex Claremont-Diaz is dragged to a local up and coming gay bar to celebrate the New Year with his sister and best friend, where he meets the standoffish owner Henry Fox and asks him to spend a no strings attached evening with him.

Catalyst of Change by @uglygreenjacket. E, 17k. Alexander Gabriel Claremont-Diaz is American through and through, so how he found himself going to graduate school in Scotland and working in a coffee shop is still a little beyond his understanding.

And Prince Henry? Well, that's another thing entirely.

When Alex is outed in his last year of college, he packs up his life and tries his best to leave the trauma behind. It's all going fine until he collides, quite literally, with a future he never imagined.

Call Me By My Name by clottedcreamfudge. E, 24k. The fucked up thing is that this isn’t the kind of world where you can ‘not believe’ in soulmates; they’re a scientific fact. There have been studies, there’s a science dedicated to it - Alignment Science, which is just about the biggest heap of bullshit Alex has ever heard - and it is literally just how the world works.

Nobody has been able to adequately explain to him, however, how you end up with your soulmate’s name in your subconscious when you’re born, or why this is the way you have to get it out.

Alex doesn't believe in soulmates, and Henry doesn't believe in the likelihood of finding his. Enter: coffee shops. 

Bite Your Tongue on Purpose by Woodsarelovely. M, 32k. “Hey, man. Can I get a black coffee to go?”

“Er…” he says – a faintly bewildered expression on his face. “Yes, I imagine so.”

Turns out the guy is also British, which is like, whatever. Alex gives him one of his best smiles. “Great, thanks.”

Hot Barista glances vaguely around himself, then back to Alex. He looks simultaneously surprised and uncertain, like some kind of aggressively handsome time-traveller who’s been unexpectedly yeeted into a different century. After a beat, he says – “From me?”

“Uh yeah. You’re working here, right?”

“Well... yes?”

Alex tries very hard not to sigh.

Great. Looks like he’s dealing with one of those people who are so attractive, they’ve never had the need to develop any kind of personality beyond that of a Tupperware container of room-temperature potato salad.

Alex absolutely does not have time for whatever this shit is.

Five times Henry serves Alex coffee and one time Alex serves Henry.

Strap in, folks. It's a coffee shop AU ...Kind of. 

coffee shop boyfriends series by @strwbrryfox. M, 35k. in which alex just really wants to be friends with his new co-worker, henry, who seemingly can’t stand him. things aren’t looking good for him after a couple of attempts to rectify the situation lead to him making a complete fool out of himself and, by extension, henry. but it’s fine because alex plans on turning all of it around when he pulls henry’s name for their staff secret santa. or the obliviouspining!alex x coffee shop x christmas x secret santa au that no one asked for.

I Get Drunk on Jealousy by aforgottennymph. E, 43k.

Something is crackling in the air, and as oblivious as Henry can be, there’s no mistaking the closeness of Alex to him, the dark look in his eyes that are piercing through his very being. Or maybe he’s just insanely drunk. Because in what other universe would his insanely gorgeous co-worker be looking at him with bedroom eyes, one hand gripping his forearm tightly enough to keep him in place, but not enough to bruise. “I think,” Alex says slowly, as though giving Henry a chance to protest, “that we should fuck.” “Excuse me?”

Henry dislikes doing things that he doesn’t excel at, this includes but is not limited to; baking, interior decorating and acting normal around drop-dead gorgeous men who have eyes he can practically dive into and drown in.

Unfortunately for Henry, his new job involves all three.

But Alex is straight, clearly, given how he flirts with every woman that comes through the door, which is fine.

Two can play at this game.

The Best Bar in the World by @pridepages. T, 76k. If someone had asked Alex to picture a gay bar, he probably would have imagined flashing rainbow lights, pounding club music, and a sticky dive floor coated in spilled beer and vodka. The last thing he would have thought of was this...

As Alex drank in the sight, his companion drew back heavy curtains, allowing sunlight to pour in from the quiet courtyard outside. The man turned back with a smile at the look of awe on Alex's face. "Welcome to Wilde's...I'm Henry, and it's a pleasure to meet you at last."

The same day Alex Claremont-Diaz is dumped by his boyfriend, he discover's Wilde's: the best bar in the world.

Or

The one in which Henry Fox owns a bar and falls for one of his regulars.

I only tag an author once per post, but I'm still figuring out firstprince author handles. If you see one I may not know or find a broken link, please give me a heads up!

Master List of RWRB FirstPrince Recs

Master List of Recommendations

#firstprince #rwrb fic recs #rwrb #alex x henry #red white & royal blue

[mike-haters-dni]

Scalding, unnecessary take that I'm going to use as an excuse to yap about my hyperfixation characters more than anything, but El's character is actually impossible to stick into coffee shop fanfiction No Supernatural Shit AUs. That's Jane you're writing about. Jane and El are not the same person. At all. And like, Jane is interesting to think about, don't get me wrong. I have thought about Jane. I love Jane. She's adorable and vaguely autistic. But Jane != Eleven.

Eleven is the way she is almost entirely because of her experience/trauma of growing up in the lab and having supernatural murder powers. Her main characters traits are being a self-sacrificing hero and not being sure who she is due to the fact she grew up in an isolated sterile inhuman environment. Unless you're directly translating those things into something unsupernatural (like growing up in a fucked up cult or something and like fighting her way out and now she'll fight to protect other people from similar experiences or something idk) you're writing about Jane the normal gorl who got to grow up with a normal personality in a normal world. And like, you can do that. It's fine it's fandom do whatever u want. But personally, the first thing I come up with when I birth an AU is what crazy powers and fucked up backstory we give Eleven here. Also how do we make her and everyone else really fucking cool but that...might be beside the point idk.

The powers have to basically ruin or have had ruined her life at one point. They have to be a curse that she either reclaims or gets rid of at the end. If she isn't tortured she isn't Eleven Stranger Things lmao

And then yeah yeah my next step is to figure out how Mike AND THE OTHERS OK but mostly Mike get involved in this. Which brings me to my next point: Jane and Mike have no real reason to talk to each other. Mike x Jane is just Normal Gorl x Normal Boy which is like, fine sure if that's what you want, but also you kinda just erased everything interesting about their dynamic. You wanna know what makes El and Mike's relationship so compelling? Objectively? I'm objectively right about everything I'm about to say here? Ok their dynamic is this: Eleven is the most important person in the world, and Mike is the only boy who will ever love her. And yeah that second one sounds really sad but 1. yeah it kinda is :) 2. its not really true that's just what El thinks which is like a major theme for her character TO ME, her underestimating how 'normal' she is esp in her later years 3. it also is kinda true because he's the only boy romantically interested in her who actually understands and experienced all the supernatural/lab trauma bullshit and is actively fighting beside her through the plot of the show, and 4. he's literally perfect and also the only boy she'll ever love and need so it all works out.

And to explain the first one, I mean, you know she's saved the world twice right? She kinda literally is the most important person in the world considering its up to her to stop the apocalypse probably in the end? But its not the being important exactly that makes Mike love her ok, that's more of a meta character thing. Like she doesn't have to literally be the key to saving the world and the most powerful being in the universe. Its more that she has to have something really special about her that draws Mike specifically to her and binds him to her permanently and inseparably and he belongs to her forever and ever and they die in each other's arms. Like she deserves. In canon I imagine objectively and correctly that it went like this: Mike is a natural outcast collector and protector due to his pervasive unconscious need to be needed and his fear of losing the few people who like him, who meets the ultimate outcast girl who literally has nothing and needs him in a very real way, and this gives him an excuse to just pour his entire self into her, fulfilling one of his deepest interpersonal needs. The best part is that she's super selfless and amazing and she loves him the same right back so its actually a beautiful thing they get going. Basically the idea of being anything less than perfect for her is so sad and horrible due to how fucked her life was that it drives the already caretaking Mike into overdrive to make her happy. Not at the cost of him still being an individual person, mind you. But that's the vibe. Also let me just say, all the self-sacrificing vibes and obsession and desperation can become toxic under certain circumstances and that is absolutely a feature not a bug. Sorry you don't like watching your faves yell at each other but we are not the same.

Anyway what the fuck was I talking about? AUs? Yeah ok so when translating Mike (AND THE OTHERS...and the others) into other stories there's more flexibility u kno because he's mostly just Some Guy. He really just needs (TO ME) an excuse to be fighting with Eleven (she has to be fighting something with the powers I know you gave her). He shouldn't be directly involved with whatever gave her the powers but he should generally know of and be somewhat affected by it. Or become aware of it/involved with it over time. Like in the show. You get it. Honestly his only real consistent character traits are being kinda moody and being the leader of the party in whatever vague or not way. And being intelligent. Like he has to be leader for a reason. I guess that's a decent base for a character right there.

oh right side note: you have to do something fun with her name. like she was basically branded Eleven by the freak that gave her the powers so u gotta take that energy and translate it into another branded name that has el in it because she needs to get the nickname ofc. unless its a cyberpunk au in which case Eleven is a pretty normal name and she can just go by that lmao.

So the point ig is Jane and Mike break up when they go away to different colleges and don't talk to each other again until their next high school reunion, while Mike and Eleven are...well you should know by now.

#this is truly me rambling to myself but ig that's why we're here right #yes i want to discuss mike and eleven's characters more #yes its exhausting writing shit #yes u can ask questions/talk about ur own AUs or whatever #blah blah engage with me or don't ig #one like and i list my AUs tho #if i feel like it #ig ill tag this #mileven #not like theres anything else in the tag rn hahaha

[precioustarkey]

valentine's day surprise

au where drew is not an actor, but a barista? and in college?

summary: college can be hard, so having a place to escape can be refreshing.

warnings: none

monday morning. arguably the most dreaded time of the week. it was exceptionally difficult to pull myself out of bed this morning. i felt especially comforted by the warmth of the blankets wrapped tightly around me. however, the sound of my alarm was enough for me to throw the comfort out of the window as i smacked my phone angrily. i pull myself up, rubbing my eyes in an attempt to regain my sense of consciousness. 

i glance at the time: 7:36. the light in my closet nearly blinds me as i grab around for anything warm. i make my way to the bathroom, throwing my clothes on the toilet seat. when the warm water from the shower finally hits me i feel instantly rejuvenated. i carry on with my routine, getting dressed, brushing my teeth, etc. my professor cancelled my class for today, but i figured i may as well stick to my usual schedule. 

planning on doing assignments for my other classes, i pack my bag with everything i may need. throwing it over my shoulder and grabbing my phone, i make my way to the only thing that could save my sanity: the coffee shop down the street. cliche i know, but it has always been a goal of mine to be one of those mysterious girls who alternate between coffee shops in the city. 

actually, my mysterious girl fantasy is still in the works considering that almost every barista knows me by my name. i can feel my anxiety in the pit of my stomach as i see all of the red and pink hearts in the windows of every store coming and going. i am not one of those people who despises valentine's day, but i do worry my safe space will be crowded with couples due to the nearing holiday. i enjoy my time there more when it is mostly empty. 

when i step in the door, i am relieved by the warm air hitting my cold hands and face. i am also relieved to see that the crowd is no bigger than normal. my eyes then darted to see who was working today, and i immediately reconized the familiar smile behind the counter. "good morning, y/n," he greeted me as i made my way closer. my grin never leaves my face as i reply, "good morning, drew."

drew starkey. we go to the same university, but we come from very different sides of campus. i spend my nights studying for exams, and drew spends his nights going to frat parties and playing basketball. as much as i hate to admit it, i have grown quite fond of drew since our small talk in the coffee shop began. "do you want your old usual or your new usual?" he teases. i recently changed my order, and he was not happy that i threw off our routine. "new usual, please," i laugh, watching him playfully roll his eyes as he begins preparing my order.

"i have to say i'm shocked you're here so early," i comment as i lean forward, resting on the counter with my wallet ready. he lets out a quiet chuckle. "you have my schedule memorized? i'm flattered." now it's my turn to roll my eyes. "only because i'm here almost every day." "if that helps you sleep better at night," he teases. 

purposefully ignoring his comment, i grab the coffee from his hand, pulling my card out of my wallet. "don't worry about it," he says as he wipes down the counter where he had just prepared my drink. "drew, i'm not letting you pay for my coffee," i insist, handing him the card anyway. "consider it a valentine surprise," he smiles. "well, thank you very much starkey, i'll have to make it up to you," i wink, turning around and making my way to my favorite table. 

my schoolwork takes up about an hour and a half of my time. this time was also spent feeling intense stares in my direction. it was not unusual for drew to be flirty with me. i assume he is that way with most girls he comes into contact with, but the level of concentration he has on me today is new. i am almost uncomfortable. not because i feel unsafe, but because i immediately wonder what i have done to make him so interested. 

in my confusion, i slowly begin to pack up my things, and prepare myself to go back to my apartment. once again, i throw my bag over my shoulder, grab my empty cup and a few loose pieces of paper, and toss them into the trash can nearby. i look over to drew and give him a farewell smile. 

“hey, y/n, wait a second,” he says over the new crowd of people. i turned around curiously. “take this.” he’s holding a card in his hand. “what is this?” i tease, grabbing the card. “open it when you get wherever you’re going,” he grins, going back to his spot to wait on a customer who had appeared. 

i slide the card into one of the pockets on my bag and step outside, greeted by the chilly air. my curiosity is getting the better of me on what feels like the longest walk back home. when i finally see the familiar building, i am almost running to get inside. 

my bag thuds against the ground as i land myself at my desk. the card is still poking out ever so slightly. the ‘card’ being a folded up piece of paper. i quickly opened it to see drew’s messy handwriting. my heartbeat was getting quicker as i read his words: “to make it up to me, you could let me take you somewhere nicer than a coffee shop for valentine’s day.” his number was scratched at the bottom. 

the smile never leaves my face as i read the card again and again. my phone next to me, patiently waiting for his number to be entered. i decide against texting him until later in the day because of his shift. my thoughts race with wonder–had i made him nervous? is that why we shared so many awkward glances? 

maybe a date with drew starkey isn’t such a bad idea.

this is my first post please cut me some slack

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron #y/n #drew starky x y/n #rafe cameron x y/n #outer banks #drew starkey imagine #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey headcannon

[swtstrwbrris]

Espresso Love

request: i was wondering if i could request a miyamura x reader where miyamura works at a coffee shop and one day reader walks in with their friend hori because the place is well known for making good latte art and when it’s time to make the reader’s order miyamura notices the reader staring at him which makes him super nervous because he thinks the reader is cute and he struggles with the latte art because he wants to make sure it’s extra perfect for the reader </3

summary: If there's one thing that Miyamura is confident in, it'll be his barista skills and latte art. Having to work part time at a famous cafe, his technique becomes almost second nature. What happens if you appear in front of him one day to order a drink, causing the skillful barista to become a flustered mess?

pairing: izumi miyamura x f! reader

genre: barista!au, fluff

warnings: none!

a/n: it's sad to see the lack of horimya content there is on tumblr so hopefully this will be an addition to the collection! cheers to my first scenario on this blog 🥂

main masterlist

"Hey hey! Do you have plans afterschool today?" Your brown haired best friend pops up from the side beside your desk, eyes peering over what you were doing. "You're still at it?" She sighs at the sight of your abstract art book. "Mmm..." You hummed, focused on finishing your final stroke. Hori kneels down by your desk, quietly waiting for you to finish. "I have plans on going home." You lifted your pencil with a satisfied grin. "What do you think is the meaning behind this piece?" You lifted your book, showing her your finished product. Hori was always amazed by how beautiful your art looks, knowing that it's your way of expressing your feelings. Regardless of not knowing anything about art, she tries her best to understand it through your perspective.

"Hmm," she stares at your drawing briefly. "I'm getting the vibes of love." she glances up to see your redden cheeks, letting out a laugh as you covered your face behind the book. "What? It's just what I think." She points out the small heart like shapes in your work for her reasoning. "You're not wrong." You nodded, agreeing with her analysis. "Did you not realize what you were drawing?" "I'm not sure. I just drew whatever I was feeling." You started packing your things away. "Then maybe what you're feeling is love!" She nudges you as you tried to hide your bloomed cheeks, keeping your head down as you wore your backpack and headed out. "So Y/N, is there someone you're interested in?" "No." "No as in you're not willing to tell me or no as in you're too scared to admit it?" "No as in I don't like anyone." She lets out a sigh from your boring replies. "How is that love when I've clearly never been in love before?" "Maybe just not yet." You shook your head at her nonsense, walking past the gate. "Wait!" She takes a hold on your arm before you walked off on the opposite direction. "You're not busy right? Let's go visit my friend at work!" She pulls you to her direction, hugging your arm as the two of you headed off. "Who are we visiting?" "Miyamura." Your eyes widen from the familiar name. "Miyamura... Izumi?" You recalled the quiet boy who sat a few desks behind yours. "Yup! He works at a cafe known for amazing latte art! He always sends me pictures of the latte art he makes but I don't believe that he actually did it himself so we're going to surprise him today to see if he's really that skilled as he boasts. But then again, I wouldn't say he boasts because he's rather more humble and all..." Hori rambles off as you quietly followed. You didn't except such a reserved person to be working in a popular cafe.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

You walked up to a cafe at the corner of the street. Despite walking past the plaza multiple times, you never noticed that there was a cafe here. Hori peeks through the window before dragging you in. Ding. The chimes by the entrance rings as the doors opened. The atmosphere of the cafe at first glance was very homey and calm, not filled with too much people. You glanced around for an empty table. Putting your bags by the corner near the window, you joined Hori, who was at the front, chatting with Miyamura.

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to visit?" You were surprised to hear him speak in a tone that's wasn't flat. "Because I need to see for myself just how good you are with latte art!" He lets out a chuckle as you felt an unfamiliar feeling in your chest. Your heart started racing and you couldn't figure out why. "Well then, what would you like to order?" Hori taps her chin as she observes the menu. "Matcha bear latte!" He nods, punching in your order on the machine. "Oh! I almost forgot, this is Y/N. My best friend that I always mention." She stepped to the side as you faced Miyamura. His eyes widen from your appearance as you followed his expression. Was he always this attractive up close? The weird sensation on your chest returns as find yourself unconsciously staring into his eyes. His cheeks slowly redden as the two of you stared into each others orbits. Hori, who was standing by the side, observes the scene and smirks to herself. "Ahem." She lets out a cough, snapping the both of you back to reality.

"S-Sorry." You apologized, feeling your cheeks heat up as you stared at the ground. "N-No worries." He stutters. "U-Um, I'm Hori's friend, Izumi Miyamura." Your eyes travel to see his charming smile. "I'm Y/N L/N." You could hear your heart pounding through your ears. "What can I get for you today?" He slightly tilts his head. With panick, you looked through the menu, mentally scolding yourself for not taking a look earlier when Hori was ordering. "U-Uh... Um..." You mumbled, trying to make a choice between all the cute looking latte art. "How about you surprise her, Miyamura?" Hori stepped in and suggested. You looked over at her with a surprised expression. "That'll be awesome! Would that be alright with you, Y/N?" Your stomach fluttered from him calling your name. "Yes!" You replied, rather quickly. "Well, you guys can just take a seat and I'll bring it over to when it's ready." He smiled before the two of your returned to your seats. Once he saw you leave, he turned around and squatted down, hands in his face. "You good there?" His coworker questioned. "She's so cute." He mumbled. "Who? Hori?" "Y/N. She's so cute. I can't believe I lost my cool in front of her. She must think that I'm some weirdo staring at her." He groaned a complain. "No. I still have a chance to redeem myself. I must make the best latte art I've ever made for her!" He shot up, feeling determined.

"Um, what was that back there?" Hori smirked as you took a seat. "What do you mean?" "The two of you were practically drowning in each other's eyes." The scene replayed in your mind as you hide your face behind your hands. "Did you fall for Miyamura?" "What?! No! Of course not!" You denied, shaking your hands. "Your bright red face says so otherwise." She pointed out, making your face turn into a darker shade of rouge. "I'm sure Miyamura feels the same. The two of you were practically a blushing mess." You felt too embarrassed to face your friend. "I...I just didn't expected him to be that handsome." You confessed, turning to face the window. You heard Hori let out a chuckle. "I never thought I'd see Y/N fall head over heels over a boy that fast. Must be true love if you ask me." She teased before you glared at her, making her laugh at your still red face. "Alright alright, let's do some work while we wait for the drinks."

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

"Gosh! Why won't this turn out nicely?!" The black haired boy groaned at the latte art. This was his fifth cup on trying the get the wave heart latte art to look perfect. His coworker walked passed, to see a line of cups. "What's wrong with these? They look just fine." "They can't look just fine, they have to look perfect!" He grumbled before attempting yet another cup. "Maybe if your hands would stop shaking from nervousness, that'll help." Miyamura looks down at his shaking hands before clasping them together, trying to calm down his nerves. This has to be perfect not matter what. If it's not perfect, it can't be for Y/N.

You were peacefully doodling while Hori studied. You found yourself liking the cafe more than expected. Aside from the fact that your first love works here, you enjoyed the ambiance and mood that was given off. "Hmm... It's been a while since we ordered, hasn't it? I wondered what's taking so long." Hori glanced at the time on her phone before standing up. "I'm going to check on our drinks." You nodded as she walked over, peering to see Miyamura's back as he carefully and delicately pour what seemed to be your drink. Her eyes landed on the row of drinks that he attempted to make. Sneaking to take a quick picture, she managed to snap a picture to show his dedication to perfect your drink. "Miyamura~" The boy finches at his name suddenly being called. Turning around, Hori notices Miyamura's stressed expression. "You messed up my drink!" He whined, placing another cup with his just fine section. "I was wondering what was taking so long." He quickly apologizes. "But now I understand why." She winked. "Do you like Y/N?" "I..." He trailed off, looking at his unsatisfied attempts. "I want to make her drink as perfect as possible." He confessed. The brown haired cupid nodded, before returning back to her seat.

"Is everything alright?" "Yeah, there was some problems with the machine, so they had to fix it." She lied, knowing that only she knew the truth of her two friends. "Say, remembered how you mentioned that everyone has their own ways of expressing their feelings?" "Yeah, what about it?" "Just wondering... I just had a thought on if it's possible for someone to express their feelings in the same way, yet differently at the same time." She thought out loud, as curiosity grew within you. "Wait, what do you-" "I am so sorry about the wait!" Miyamura appears before the two of you, holding a tray with your drinks. "Here is the matcha bear latte." He placed down Hori's drink as the two of you verbalized your amazement. "And here is yours." You saw his hands nervously shake as he struggled to set down the drink. It was a latte with a wave heart design. "It's a mocha latte." He introduced. "...With a wave heart design." His cheeks flushed red. "Wow... This is beautiful, thank you!" You smiled brightly as you admired his beautiful work. The more you looked at the design, the more similar it looked. You looked over at your art from earlier and noticed that it was a similar design. "That's a beautiful drawing you have there." He pointed out your art as your cheeks tinted pink. As much as you didn't want to ruin his hard work, you took a sip of the drink.

"This is delicious!" He couldn't help but to chuckle at your adorable reaction. "But I feel bad for ruining your effort on this." "Don't you worry, he's got a couple more back there if that makes you feel any better." His coworker, who was wiping down a nearby table invited himself into the conversation. Miyamura glared at this coworker, who clearly doesn't take a hint. "You should've see how many times he tried to perfect his drink." The flustered male tried to defend himself. "I even took a picture! Look at all the cups!" Hori slides her phone across the table as you took a look. Your eyes expanded as you saw the multiple cups beside him. Your eyes landed at him before the tips of his ears turned red, hiding himself behind the tray. "Did you do this all for me?" He slowly lowered the tray, revealing his adorable baffled face. "Yeah..." He admitted with embarrassment. "I wanted to make sure I made the perfect one for you." "Thank you, that’s really kind of you. Well, I don't mind drinking them all. I know for a fact they're all perfect to me." With your blushed cheeks, your lips curved up as Miyamura beamed.

Now it all made sense to you. With your way of expressing your feelings through art, Miyamura was expressing his feelings to you through his dedication of latte art. And for that, you would've help but to fall deeper for the flustered boy.

#horimiya #horimiya x reader #izumi miyamura #izumi miyamura x reader